The afternoon was hot, but his chest was hotter.

He stood there for maybe a minute, two max, pretending like he didn’t care. Then your motorbike engine roared outside, and something snapped.

Bakugo grabbed his own helmet, kicked his bike into gear, and took off—no plan, no words, just heat in his lungs and something sharp sitting behind his ribs.

And then it happened.

A car rolled in from a side street without looking. You hit the brakes, swerved, but it was too late.

The sickening scrape of metal on the pavement hit first. Then you—slammed into the ground, hard, your helmet bouncing once before your body stopped moving.

“{{user}}!”

His voice tore from his throat, sharp and cracked. Tires screeched behind him as he dropped his bike right in the middle of the road and ran. People were already getting out of their cars, someone shouted to call an ambulance, but he was already kneeling beside you. He dropped to his knees beside you.

“Hey—HEY, look at me!”

Your visor was fogged, but he could see your eyes—barely open, dazed, breathing fast. Your lips moved, but no words came out.

“Don’t close your eyes.” His voice was shaking now. "Don’t—don’t you dare pass out on me."