You're crammed together on the beat-up couch, shoulders brushing, knees almost touching. The same position you've been in a hundred times before. A thousand times. His warmth is a constant presence at your side, familiar as your own heartbeat.

His phone buzzes on the armrest.

He picks up the phone, thumb already swiping across the screen. A small frown crosses his features, then softens into something you've never seen before. A shadow of a smile, barely there, but unmistakable.

You lean over, just slightly. Curiosity. That's all it is.

The screen glows bright in the dim room. A message thread. Contact name: "Ocho ❤️"

Your chest goes cold.

The game hums in the background. Bakugo's thumb moves, typing out a response. His shoulders relax. You watch the curve of his neck, the way his fingers move, and something inside you splinters.

He sends the text. Tosses the phone back onto the armrest. Picks up the controller.

Your hands feel numb.