The fallout from the simulation lingered like smoke after a blast — invisible, but suffocating.
Y/N walked the halls of U.A. with her head held high, but the whispers followed like shadows. Some praised her bravery. Others questioned her judgment. A few asked if she'd do it again — if she'd break formation, abandon protocol, risk everything for one person.
Y/N never answered.
But Aizawa's warning echoed in her head like a drumbeat: Fix it. Or step down.
Bakugo was quieter than usual.
Not cold.
Just... distant.
They trained together in silence, their movements sharp, efficient, but lacking the spark that had once defined them. The rhythm was still there — the instinctive coordination, the unspoken understanding — but the fire had dimmed. Replaced by something brittle.
During lunch, Y/N sat beside Uraraka, picking at their food. The cafeteria was loud, but the noise felt far away.
"You okay?" Uraraka asked, voice soft.
Y/N nodded. "Just tired."
Uraraka hesitated. "You and Bakugo... you're different lately."
Y/N looked at her. "We're under pressure."
She smiled gently. "You're still good together."
Y/N's chest tightened. "I hope so."
Across the room, Bakugo sat with Kirishima and Sero, arms crossed, eyes locked on his tray. He didn't look up. Didn't glance their way. But Y/N could feel him — like gravity, like heat, like something that used to pull them in and now just held them still.
—
That evening, Y/N climbed to the rooftop, the wind cool against their skin. The city stretched out below, glittering and vast. Bakugo was already there, standing near the edge, staring at the stars like they owed him answers.
"You're avoiding me," Y/N said.
He didn't look at them. "I'm trying not to make it worse."
"You're not."
Bakugo turned, eyes shadowed. "I'm not good at balance."
Y/N stepped closer. "You don't have to be perfect."
He reached for them, fingers brushing their cheek. "I just want to be enough."
"You are."
They kissed — slow, aching, real.
And for a moment, the cracks in the mask faded.
But only for a moment.
—
They sat side by side, legs dangling over the edge, the wind tugging at their clothes.
"I keep replaying it," Y/N said. "The simulation. The blast. The choice."
Bakugo didn't speak.
"I knew what I was doing," Y/N continued. "I knew it wasn't protocol. But I couldn't let you get hit."
Bakugo's jaw tightened. "I didn't need saving."
"I know."
He turned to them. "Then why did you do it?"
Y/N looked at him. "Because I love you."
The words hung in the air — raw, exposed.
Bakugo blinked. "You've never said that before."
"I didn't know if I should."
He exhaled slowly. "I don't know how to say it back."
Y/N smiled faintly. "You don't have to."
Bakugo's voice was quiet. "I do."
He reached for their hand, lacing their fingers together. "I don't say things. I show them. But I need you to know — I'd burn the world for you."
Y/N's breath caught.
"I know," they whispered.
—
The next day, Aizawa called Y/N into his office.
He sat behind his desk, eyes unreadable. "You've been compromised."
Y/N nodded. "I know."
"You're a leader. That means making hard choices."
"I made one."
Aizawa leaned forward. "Would you make it again?"
Y/N hesitated. "Yes."
He studied them. "Then you need to own it."
Y/N blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Stop pretending you're not in love. Stop pretending it doesn't affect you. Start leading like someone who knows what they're fighting for."
Y/N's chest tightened. "You're not removing me?"
"I'm giving you a chance," Aizawa said. "Don't waste it."
—
That night, Y/N found Bakugo in the training room, blasting targets with precision and fury.
"You're angry," Y/N said.
He didn't look at them. "I'm focused."
Y/N stepped closer. "You're scared."
Bakugo turned, eyes blazing. "I'm not scared."
"Yes, you are."
He dropped his arms. "Of what?"
"Of losing control. Of losing me."
Bakugo's voice cracked. "I already did."
Y/N reached for him. "You didn't."
He pulled her into his arms, holding them like he was afraid they'd disappear.
"I don't know how to be soft," he whispered.
"You don't have to be."
They kissed — fierce, desperate, grounding.
And in the dark, the cracks held.
But the storm was still coming.