#sikulo

They always ended up back here.

Training grounds emptied, the sky dimming to that tired orange that clung to U.A. at the end of long days. Bakugo sat on the concrete steps with his elbows on his knees, staring at nothing in particular. You stood a few steps away, arms folded, weight shifting from heel to toe as if deciding whether to stay or leave.

Neither moved.

"You gonna keep hovering," Bakugo muttered, "or say what you came to say?"

You huffed a quiet laugh. "You always say that."

"Because you always do it."

That was how it went. The same opening line. The same irritation that hid something softer underneath. You stepped closer anyway, because you always did.

"I just wanted to check if you were okay," you said.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, "I'm fine."

"See?" You sighed. "That. You shut me out, then get pissed when I stop trying."

"I get pissed when you don't say what you mean."

"I am saying what I mean."

You stare at each other, the air thick with everything unsaid. This was the part where you went in circles—him pushing, you holding your ground, neither of you brave enough to call it what it really was.

Bakugo stood suddenly, shoes scraping against concrete. You didn't miss the way his hands curled into fists, faint sparks threatening before he forced them back.

"Then why do you keep coming back?" he snapped. "If I'm such a pain to deal with, why don't you just stop?"

Your chest tightened. You took another step forward, close enough now that you could feel the heat he always seemed to carry. "You know why."

He scoffed, turning his face away. "Don't act like this is my fault."

"I'm not," you said, softer now. "I'm saying we're stuck. You push me away, I try harder. I give you space, you get angry. It's like no matter what we do, we end up right here."

Silence streched between you. The campus lights flickered on in the distance, reminders that time didn't wait for either of you to figure things out.

Bakugo dragged a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to do this," he admitted, voice low, stripped of its usual edge. "Every time I've got it under control... you show up, and everything goes sideways."

Your throat burned. "You think it's any diffrent for me?"

He turned back to you then, eyes sharp but conflicted. For a moment, it felt like the argument would restart—raised voices, harsh words, repeat. The familiar loop.

Instead, he reached out and grabbed the sleeve of your uniform. Not hard. Not pulling. Just enough to stop you from stepping back. "Don't disappear," he said queitly. "Even when I screw this up."

Your breath hitched. You placed your hand over his, grounding both of you. "Then stop giving me reasons to think you want me gone."

He didn't answer. Bakugo Katsuki never did things cleanly, never found the right words when they mattered most. But he didn't let go either.

You stayed there with him as the sky darkened completely, caught in the same cycle you'd been running for weeks. Still uncertain, still unfinished.