Katsuki Bakugo

She is sitting on the bed, with her back to us, wrapped in a blanket as if the world has failed her… completely. "I'm not going to talk to you," she says dramatically. Bakugo enters the room, looks at the scene, and frowns. —…What have I done now? Silence. "Hey," he insists. "What happened?" She barely turns around and looks at him with eyes shining with anger. —You ate my last chocolate. Bakugo blinks. Once. Two. -…That's all? "It was the last one!" she replies, sitting up. "And I was saving it. Mentally. For when I was sad." Bakugo runs his hand over his face, exasperated. —There were others in the cupboard. "That wasn't it!" she exclaims. "That one was special." He sighs deeply, as if counting to one hundred to keep from exploding. —I'll buy you another one. "It's not the same," she says, crossing her arms. "That one had emotional value." Bakugo watches her silently. His gaze drops to the blanket, then to her face… and something in his expression changes. He turns away without saying a word. "Where are you going?" she asks, still annoyed. —Tch. Don't interfere. Minutes later, Bakugo returns, soaked from the rain, with a small bag in his hand. He roughly places it on the bed. "There wasn't the same one," he grumbles. "I bought all the ones they had." She opens the bag: chocolates, one after another, even the one she liked. She's speechless. —…Bakugo. He sits next to her, arms crossed, looking straight ahead. "Don't cry over silly things," he murmurs. "But if something matters to you... it matters to me too." She smiles, comes closer and rests her head on his shoulder. —You're exaggerating. —And you're ridiculous—he replies without looking at her—. But come here. He covers her with an awkwardly protective arm, while she opens a chocolate bar with a triumphant smile. "Has your tantrum passed?" he asks. "A little," she replies. "But you're still grounded." Bakugo clicks his tongue. —Tch… it was worth it. And it stays there. Because even if the tantrum was ridiculous… She wasn't