AN: This is something that I haven't really seen get explored in fics that I wanted to try my hand at.

Happy reading~ :D

Day One: Fragile

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It's midnight.

Past curfew at Heights Alliance – their dormitory for the next three years at U.A.

Ochako's room is filled with blue light coming off her thin pink laptop. The soft humming of the breaking news livestream fills the white noise of her room.

She can't bear to sit still and watch the screen when her mind is running laps.

What-if's and graphic nightmarish scenarios start to wildly fill her.

The anxiety stirs within her, feeling it gnawing at her quirk as everything she briefly touches as she paces around start to rumble in their place. Clasping her hands together, pink padded fingertips align together to release the shaking objects. Bare feet shuffle along her fuzzy orange carpet, feeling as if she could burn a hole through the synthetic material.

Every little creak sets her off.

The first, the coughing sound of the a/c unit kicking on for the entire floor.

The second, muffled phone conversations coming from the wall next to hers of Mina's room.

The third, boots sluggishly trotting down the hallway of the girl's wing on the fourth floor.

It's past curfew, no boys allowed.

Flinging her door open, she doesn't give him the chance to knock. He puts his fist down and looks at her with tired eyes hiding something else within his embers. He's still wearing his hero costume with scoot covering his cheeks, arms dirtied and scratched up, faint traces of blood that's been harshly wiped away. Leaning down, he kisses her forehead and turns to leave. "Just… letting you know I ain't dead, Angel-Face…" he sharply breathes, feeling an aching throb on his left side.

She can't begin to form words, wanting to tell him so much but feeling her throat knot up.

Instead, she watches him leave, giving him space to return to the boy's wing and go change.

In a few minutes, she'll sneak into his room and confront him – knowing him all too well. They're childhood best friends turned lovers in their teenage years. He's too prideful to show emotion but she's too empathetic not to.

Her heart feels lighter, mind freer, frenzied anxiety settling down now knowing that he's safe. He's returned back to her as he's promised to right before he left her on his internship mission with a searing kiss she desperately hoped wouldn't be their last. Patiently waiting for him, she goes back to fully pay attention to the livestream of the news going down in the heart of Downtown Musutafu. It's all just broadcasted zoom-in's of the cleaning crew working hard to have the blocked off roads opened before the morning's rush hour begins for the gloomy new day in a couple of hours from now.

When she feels like she's given him enough time to shower and change, she makes her way towards the elevators and switches over to the boy's wing on the fourth floor.

Once there, she softly twists the doorknob knowing that he's kept it open just for her. Slipping in, she finds him, face turned back to her. A small white towel draped around his broad shoulders with wet hair still dripping from droopy ash blond spikes. He's wearing grey sweatpants, rummaging through his drawers for a black tank to put on.

She sees the nasty bruise he's received, flesh an angry red surrounded by dark colors marring his tanned skin. He knows she won't ignore it but for now, that's not her main concern.

Her main concern is him.

"Katsuki, what's wrong?" she asks, seeing him visibly stiffen.

Acting indifferent, he pulls a black tank over his head and carefully rolls it down his chiseled body. "Nothin', I'm just tired and in pain" he gives her a half-truth.

"I saw the news" she cautiously brings up, knowing exactly how he got that intense bruise. A villain had flung him around as if he were a ragdoll. His body barreled towards a collapsed building in a construction zone blocks away from the main fight.

He turns to face her, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Recovery Girl fixed my broken ribs but as a nice lil' souvenir, I'll be sporting a fuckin' bruise for weeks"

She doesn't need to voice her concern, already knowing that he knows how scared he's made her but he's alive despite being injured. He feels like he should get an award for keeping his composure this long, anticipating what he already dreads she'll ask.

"Is it true? Did Best Jeanist really…" she can't finish her question.

He grits his teeth, hands curling into tight fists to his sides, "I don't fuckin' know!"

The last time he saw his pro hero mentor was when a gurney was preparing to load him into the back of an ambulance. Best Jeanist was unconscious with a battered face but his beaten state wasn't what had taken him down – it had been the bullet now lodged deeply in his abdomen. His life was entirely in the hands of whomever treats his wounds. He doesn't know whether Best Jeanist is still alive or not.

The villain he was facing had played dirty at the end. First using his quirk to make a duplicate of himself to deal with the young teen hero still in training as the real villain robbed a bank. Keeping everyone held hostage demanding to be left to steal whatever he wanted and then quietly leave. If they allowed him his wish, he wouldn't blow the place up to smithereens from all the dynamite strapped to the main pillars of the building. The villain had released half the people to prove that he was going to keep his word. When he saw that the police's special assault team had surrounded the perimeters, he gave up trying to play by the rules and ended up shooting up the place.

Katsuki had just barely ran back to the bank's location, panting heavily while holding onto his injured side as blood dripped down from his head and into his eye. He heard the ringing sounds of firearms and then a big explosion. Watching in horror, the blast had brought down the bank, ultimately killing the villain and dozens of innocent people. Best Jeanist managed to save a mother and child, releasing them from his held clutch as he collapsed to the floor succumbing to his wounds.

He felt helpless, pathetic, and not much of a hero.

He wasn't there to stop the villain in time nor save his mentor.

He wasn't someone that others could rely on when things got rough.

He now has spilled innocent blood on his hands from those he's failed.

He's only sixteen.

Overconfident, energetic, and passionate to do good.

He doesn't deal well with emotions.

Doesn't know how to cope with having those he's supposed to save die on him.

Just one more minute. One more second. That's all it took. He could've saved them. Could've arrested the villain. Could've brought justice to both ends.

He's only sixteen.

Feeling fragile.

She knows that his anger isn't directed towards her.

He's angry at himself as she silently watches his barriers slowly begin to break and crumble right in front of her.

She quietly walks towards him, sitting down on his bed and immediately goes to hug him. Feeling him shudder as his hot tears trail down her bare shoulder, his arms wrap around her petite waist. She's wearing a pink tank with thin spaghetti straps. His damp hair sends a chill down her spine as he nestles his head in the crook of her neck. Holding him tightly against her, she lets him break down.

He's never cried in front of her.

Not with his first run-in with a villain, a sludge villain nearly suffocating him to death.

Not when he was frustrated with Deku, his once friend, suddenly inheriting a quirk.

Not when his father collapsed from overworking and was hospitalized for a month to recuperate.

He's never shown her how fragile he can be sometimes because he deemed it as a weakness.

She constantly reminds him that it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. He isn't invincible and as future pro heroes, there'll be times when they can't save everyone, not even the villains.

Always in a rush to reach the top, it's moments like this that knock him down a peg and open his eyes.

He's scared.

Just the thought of what happened to his mentor – that could've been him tonight. He could've been the one well on his way towards Musutafu General Hospital for emergency surgery to remove a bullet in him. He would've made his girlfriend panic or worse – she could've fainted from her worry and be admitted too.

In that moment:

He's thankful for bruised ribs and minor cuts.

He's thankful for another day here with her.

He's thankful for the opportunity to prove that he can be the very best hero of their generation.

He'll grow stronger beyond his fragility, fears, and doubts.

If nothing else, he wants to be her hero.

Saline tears come to a halt with a new burning determination building up inside of him. He slowly gets up from his leaned over position, moving away but still close enough where she can feel his body's warmth. He cups her pink chubby cheeks in the palms of his hands and gives her a heartfelt kiss.

She means everything to him.

She's not only his rock but his world.

Always knowing what to say to him, easing his troubled mind, reminding him that it's okay to be fragile.

"Thank you" he whispers against her lips, dried tears streaking his crestfallen features.

"I love you" she whispers back, pecking him once, pulling him back in for a hug.

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Done! To be continued.

We all love the Kacchako moment™. The sports festival that made this ship sail but I've never seen Bakugou's fragility get explored nor him breaking down when he can't save everyone/first harsh reality of aiming to be a pro hero/his own safety. Etc.

Okay, thankfully this is the only angsty idea I have for these prompts. *Wipes nervous brow*

See ya tomorrow!

You know the drill! Please R&R – it's greatly appreciated and I always get a kick out of reading your reviews/feedback. And again, please don't be afraid to – I can fluently read Spanish and partial French! Thankies~ :D