Katsuki Bakugou ~ Late Night Calls

The shrill ringing of his phone cut violently through the silence of Katsuki's apartment.

A groan ripped from him as he blindly reached across the nightstand, crimson eyes barely cracking open. 2:17 AM. The screen glowed harsh and white in the dark room.

"What asshole—"

His irritation died instantly the second he saw your name lighting up the screen.

For a moment, Katsuki just stared at it. You hadn't called him in weeks. Not since the breakup. Not a single text, not a single missed call, like the last five years had been surgically removed from both your lives.

Jaw tightening, he answered roughly, voice thick with sleep and lingering bitterness.

"...What."

Silence. Then shaky breathing. Not crying. Worse. Like someone trying very hard not to panic.

Katsuki sat up immediately.

"...Oi."

Another uneven breath crackled through the phone. Then finally—your voice. Small. Strained. Painfully familiar.

"Katsuki... I need your help."

Every ounce of exhaustion vanished from his body instantly. He was already swinging his legs off the bed, already shoving his feet into shoes without tying them.

"What happened?" he demanded, moving fast now, phone jammed between shoulder and ear. "What's wrong with you?"

A sharp sound escaped you. A gasp. Pain. Real pain.

Katsuki froze mid-step, then kept moving, faster.

"...you?"

Another strained breath. Then, quiet—

"I didn't know who else to call..."

Something cold twisted violently in his chest. He was already out the door, down the hallway, keys in hand.

"I'm comin'. Stay on the phone."

His palms crackled. An explosion tore from his hand—propulsion, not combat—launching him off a streetlight into a dead sprint across a rooftop. He didn't stop.

"Almost there," he gritted out, landing hard and pushing off again. "Open the door when I get there."