Before the war you and Katsuki were friends. You’d tag along with the bakusquad during off days and you’d even talk to him about your new support items for your suits. He’d give you two more sentences than he gives to most of the class besides his friends so you considered yourself a part of his little group as well.

He seemed to be less aggressive when you found something to talk about, whether it be music, quirks, mangas or recipes. He was more like a cat with a swishing tail.

But when the second war started, when the coffin in the sky began falling and you couldn’t tell what was what anymore you’d been worried. You’d heard about Midoriya’s displacement, and an operation where the main arsenal was missing made your stomach drop just thinking about the others on the team. And your friend, Bakugou.

When you heard the reporters and the students from the business course started broadcasting the fights to the public, you immediately grabbed your phone, using it to watch the fight. Beaten and bruised as the paramedics tried to get you to safety, your eyes were glued to the screen.

And then you saw it. The flash of light from the coffin. The cameras moved too slow for his speed, capturing colorful sparks as they flashed through the sky. Bakugou. He was still going, still fighting. Relief had never felt so freeing as a spark of hope rose in your chest. It would be okay. It had to be okay.

——

When the war was over, recovery was slow. Everyone’s efforts after the disaster were a step closer to normalcy. UA was rebuilt, fixed and ready for the students to continue their education.

It felt normal. Mostly.

You hadn’t learned this until after everyone was safe, but you’d overheard from medical staff about what had really happed to Bakugou. How his heart had stopped, how he had injuries beyond fixing that no one should’ve been able to survive. That it was truly a miracle he was even able to open his eyes again.

The revelation seemed to strike harder than you imagined. Here he was, sitting in front of you during your lunch hour at UA with the bakusquad, listening as they talked about how excited they were to be official second years. Each one of you with slow healing wounds that would linger longer emotionally than they would physically.

You unintentionally grew into the habit of just…staring at him. It wasn’t on purpose, it seemed like reflex along with the tug in your chest whenever you saw him. You’d watch him when he yelled at Kirishima, trying to guide him when cooking dinner, when he sat in the common room during movie nights with the rest of your class, when Aizawa was talking about something and his eyes were glued up front. You couldn’t help it, the idea of him, Katsuki Bakugou, not being here, not yelling at someone for being an idiot, not declaring himself the best; an empty seat in your class. It hurt.

“Oi,” He swallowed his bite of katsudon raising a brow as he looked at you. “What, you got something to say? Do I got something on my face? Quit staring, dumbass.”