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The cool evening air brushed against Y/N's skin as she stood outside the base, looking up at the sky. It was quiet—too quiet, almost—but in a peaceful way. The moon hung high above, casting a soft, silver glow over the landscape, its light dappling the trees and the ground. After the mission's chaos, this stillness felt like a welcome relief.

She had barely spoken a word since they returned. The adrenaline had worn off, and now, everything felt like it had shifted. She couldn't stop thinking about the mission—about Bakugo. About how they'd worked together. How, for the first time in a long while, she felt like they weren't just teammates; they were something more.

Her hand instinctively reached up to touch her side, where a small bruise from the fight earlier in the day still ached. She winced slightly but didn't care enough to make a big deal out of it. She was used to it. Being a hero meant bruises, scratches, and exhaustion.

Still, as she stood in the stillness, there was an undeniable pull in the air between her and Bakugo. It was different than usual. There had been a shift after that mission. She wasn't sure when exactly it happened, but it felt like the walls they'd carefully constructed around themselves were slowly starting to crumble.

The sound of footsteps broke her thoughts. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She could feel the intensity in the air—the same way she had every time Bakugo approached her. Even when he wasn't saying anything, it felt like his presence was more powerful than any words could convey.

"Oi," Bakugo's voice called out from behind her, rough and blunt, but there was a subtle warmth in it. "You good?"

Y/N took a slow breath, letting the moment settle over her. "Yeah," she answered, her voice steady, though she couldn't help but feel the weight of everything that was unsaid between them. The mission had been a mess, but there had been something else in the chaos. She had felt Bakugo's unwavering support, his protection, and, in turn, she'd done the same for him. There was something unspoken in the way they had worked together—something that was impossible to ignore now.

"I'm fine," she said again, more firmly this time. "Just... thinking."

"About what?" His voice was closer now, and she could feel the heat from his body even though she couldn't see his face. His tone wasn't unkind, but there was a quiet curiosity beneath the usual roughness.

Y/N hesitated, her gaze still fixed on the moonlit sky. She wasn't sure how to explain it, but the words were sitting on her tongue, waiting to be spoken. How could she even put into words what she was feeling? How could she tell him about the way her heart had started to race whenever he was near, or the way he had protected her during the mission without thinking twice?

"I don't know," she said slowly, her voice quieter now. "It's just... this mission. We were so in sync, and I don't think I've ever felt like that before."

There was a long pause. She wasn't sure if she should have said anything at all, but it felt like the right thing to do. The air between them was thick with unsaid things. She needed to say something.

"You did good today," she added, glancing over her shoulder at him, her heart pounding slightly. "We did good."

Bakugo was silent for a moment, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken, anxiety creeping up her spine. Maybe she had said too much. Maybe he would brush it off like he always did.

But then, without warning, Bakugo stepped up beside her, his gaze also directed toward the sky. His usual frown was softened by something she couldn't quite place—a hint of exhaustion, maybe, but also something else. Something that, for once, didn't feel like anger.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "We did." He shifted slightly, his shoulder brushing against hers as he stood beside her, a rare gesture of closeness. "And you didn't hold me back. For once."

Y/N blinked, unsure whether she had heard him correctly. Bakugo never gave compliments lightly. And when he did, they were usually buried under layers of sarcasm or mockery. But this—this was different.

"Thanks?" She replied, her voice soft. "I—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Bakugo let out a gruff sigh and turned to walk away. Y/N watched him for a moment, wondering if she had said the wrong thing. But then, as she prepared to follow him, he stopped abruptly, his back still facing her.

"Oi," he said, his voice quieter now, more serious than usual. "Don't overthink it, alright?"

Y/N frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Bakugo shifted again, his back still to her. "I'm just saying... you don't need to make a big deal out of it. It's not like I care or anything."

She knew what he was trying to say. He didn't have to say it outright. He didn't need to. The way he carried himself, the way he distanced himself when things got too close—it was all too familiar.

Y/N couldn't help but smile to herself, a small, knowing smile that she kept hidden. "Sure, Bakugo. Whatever you say."

He didn't turn around, but she could hear the low, annoyed growl in his throat as he muttered something under his breath.

But the tension between them was still there. The connection, the quiet understanding—they both felt it, but neither of them knew how to handle it. Neither of them wanted to admit that they were growing closer, that something more than just teammates and fighting partners was beginning to form between them.

Y/N stood there for a moment longer, the words lingering in the air between them.

And as Bakugo walked away, she couldn't help but feel that, in some strange way, everything between them had shifted. The walls, once so firm, had cracked, just slightly, but it was enough to let something more real, more vulnerable, slip through.