The rooftop had always been your refuge, a quiet place where you could sing your favorite songs without fear of being heard. With your headphones on and the stars above, you let your voice flow, unaware of anything else.

Tonight, though, you had forgotten about the fireworks viewing Class 1-A had planned. The door creaked open, and Bakugo, leading the group, froze as your voice reached him.

Bakugo pauses at the rooftop entrance, raising a hand

Bakugo:“Shut up. Don’t make a sound.”

Kirishima:“Whoa… is that you?”

Bakugo:“Yeah, so don’t screw this up.”

Bakugo says quietly, but firm

The group froze near the doorway, listening intently. Your voice carried through the air, clear and beautiful, holding them in place.

Jirou:“They’re really good…”

Bakugo:"Better than half the junk on the radio.”

Class 1-A stayed silent, admiring your singing under the stars.