Bakugou exhales softly, a low rumble of relief escaping him as he feels your body finally relax completely against his chest. The small, uneven sobs are gone, replaced by even, steady breaths, and the slight warmth of your exhaustion is the only sign of the storm you’d just endured.

He shifts just enough to settle you comfortably, one arm cradling your back and the other gently holding your head against his chest. He keeps you close, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and his warmth act as a grounding anchor for the fragile peace you’ve finally allowed yourself to feel.

“…Sleep,” he whispers softly, his usual fire and roughness softened entirely by concern and care. “…I’ve got you, Sharna… you’re safe now.”

Bakugou leans back slightly in the quiet of the room, careful not to wake you, his crimson eyes scanning the dimly lit space. Sparks fizzle faintly along his gloves but he suppresses them, letting the only energy in the room be the quiet, protective presence he maintains over you. For the first time in a long while, he allows himself to stay still, just holding you, guarding you, and letting the tension of the night fade into silence.

Outside the haze of grief and rage, the room feels calmer—anchored by the stubborn, unyielding presence of the boy who refuses to let you face the storm alone.