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The night was calm as the city lights flickered in the distance, the soft hum of the wind surrounding Y/N as she stood there, her thoughts a whirlwind. She had always known Bakugo was complicated. He had his walls, his pride, and an air of indifference that could make anyone think he didn't care about anything, let alone about the people around him. But the way he had spoken to her tonight—the softness in his voice when he revealed that he didn't like people getting too close—it had shown her a different side of him. A side that she hadn't seen before.

It was late. The gala had ended hours ago, and while most people had gone home, Y/N couldn't seem to leave the quiet night behind. She turned around, glancing back at the spot where Bakugo had stood just moments ago. The warmth of the moment still lingered, like a glow she didn't want to extinguish. There was something in the air between them now—a subtle shift that she couldn't ignore.

Suddenly, a noise behind her caused her to tense, and she turned around to find none other than Bakugo, standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable. He had obviously been debating whether to return, but now that he was here, he seemed unsure of what to do next.

"Bakugo?" Y/N said quietly, almost as if she were unsure of his presence.

He grunted in response, the usual gruffness in his tone returning. "What? You miss me already?" There was a glint of teasing in his voice, but it didn't quite mask the tension she could feel.

She laughed, though it felt light and soft. "I was just thinking... about what you said before."

Bakugo cocked his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "What part of it?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"The part where you said you don't like people getting too close," Y/N replied, stepping closer to him, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "And that you don't need anyone."

Bakugo was quiet for a moment, the words hanging in the air between them. His jaw clenched as if he were fighting a battle inside, his usually fiery gaze subdued. "I don't need anyone," he repeated, though this time there was a noticeable lack of conviction in his voice. It was more of an automatic response than a belief. "People just... complicate things."

"Maybe," Y/N said gently, "but sometimes, you need people to help you figure things out. You can't do everything alone."

Bakugo shifted uncomfortably, clearly not used to such vulnerability being directed toward him. His hands curled into fists at his sides, but his posture was more tense than usual, a sign that the conversation was hitting closer to home than he wanted to admit.

"I'm fine," he muttered, his voice a little rougher. "I don't need you to tell me what I need."

Y/N stopped a few feet away from him, a small, knowing smile curving her lips. "No, you don't need me to tell you anything. But I think you know deep down that you've been pushing people away for a long time. And I get it. It's easier that way, right? No one can hurt you if you keep them at arm's length."

Bakugo's expression darkened, and he looked away, his gaze distant. "I don't have time for—"

"You don't have time for a lot of things, Bakugo," Y/N interrupted, her tone soft but firm. "But you're human. And sometimes, humans need a little help."

He scowled, clearly uncomfortable with how much Y/N had seen through him. But there was something about her that made it impossible to hide his thoughts. Even if he tried to shove them down, she always seemed to know just when to push and when to let him breathe.

"Why do you even care?" Bakugo asked suddenly, the rawness in his voice surprising her.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his question. She had never really thought about why she cared so much. "I don't know," she admitted honestly. "I just... do. I've never been able to ignore people who are hurting, or pretending like they don't need help when I know they do." She shrugged, offering him a small, reassuring smile. "Maybe that's why."

There was a long pause, and for a moment, it seemed like Bakugo was about to say something. But instead, he just turned away, his usual fiery demeanor flickering back into place.

"I'm fine," he muttered again, this time more as a statement than a challenge. "You don't need to worry about me."

Y/N let out a small sigh, knowing there was no use in pushing him too hard. But there was still something in the air between them—an unspoken understanding.

"I'll stop worrying if you let me in, Bakugo," she said quietly, watching his back. "But if you keep shutting me out, I can't promise I'll stop trying."

For a moment, she thought he might snap back at her with some insult or dismissive remark, but instead, he remained silent, his back rigid as he faced the darkened city in front of them.

The wind stirred again, blowing a lock of hair across Y/N's face. She brushed it away, waiting for him to say something, anything. Finally, he turned back toward her, though his gaze still held that familiar guarded edge.

"I'm not good at this," he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself.

Y/N smiled softly. "No one's perfect."

He didn't respond, but his gaze softened just the tiniest bit. "Don't get any ideas, alright?" His words were sharp, but the softness in his eyes betrayed him.

Y/N chuckled, sensing that this might be the most they would get out of him for now. "Don't worry, Bakugo. I won't."

But as they stood there in the quiet of the night, an unspoken agreement seemed to settle between them. Neither of them had the answers, and neither of them knew exactly how to navigate this growing connection. But one thing was clear: whatever this was, it was undeniable. And for the first time, neither of them was running from it.

"You should get some rest," Y/N said finally, breaking the silence. "It's been a long night."

Bakugo gave her a short nod. "Yeah. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you," Y/N echoed, her smile softening as she watched him turn and walk away.

But as Bakugo disappeared into the night, Y/N felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. She didn't know what the future held for them—she didn't even know if Bakugo fully understood what was happening between them. But one thing she was sure of was this: they were both starting to face something they had been avoiding for a long time.

And maybe that was all that mattered.