In hindsight, I loved Bliss's laugh. I should have appreciated it more. I should've respected their carefree cackles more as threats.
The piercing shrieks that resounded from their throat as they were ripping at mine, the aftershocks of their actions after I left them to die nearly shattered my life to its core.
Having the same Deku dream two nights in a row is no big deal. It means nothing.
There is no symbolism in my suffering. No reasoning out of my regrets. My mistakes are mine to be tormented by.
( ◣∀◢)ψ
Shadowy figures surround me. I am in a fiery void. Their countenances look pained…or ecstatic, I'm not sure. A solid yet gentle breeze pulls my attention away from their nameless faces. It snuffs out the flames engulfing me. I hadn't realized I was standing in the smoke of nothingness until my lungs filled with clean air. He runs to my aid, though he should've been saving someone else, perhaps himself. The booze still coursing through my veins makes it hard to remember the fine details, but I think there was a fading silhouette of him holding something in the air. Or was it in his hands?
Light surrounds me. I reach out to take what he's holding onto, but I can't—my hands are on fire where my gauntlets should be.
A low, hungry growl echoes from the other side of the void. I suddenly feel the heavy weight of its presence crushing my lungs. Suddenly, lust fills the space around me where the breeze previously occupied. Powerful and violent and not remotely tender like the force before it. Oh, god, no. I struggle to fix my thoughts against it, to focus on the fading silhouette. It's of no use. Nothing comes to me. Nothing remains. I quickly focus again on the darkness.
There is nothing but darkness…
"Katsuki! You little hellion!"
My mother. Yes.
Ice-cold water splashes over me, and my Quirk immediately activates. "This is how you repay my forty-eight hours of trauma and agony?!" The old hag threw it. "By relapsing on my lawn?!"
I groan, feeling the pain of—
My mother. Wait.
My eyelids strain against the sunlight. "H-How did I get here?" My voice splinters my throat.
"Hell if I know!" She yells at me, and the shooting pain in my brain intensifies. "I'm so disappointed in you, Katsuki! I just don't know what to do anymore! Just…" I can hear my mother sigh out billows of smoke through her dragon nostrils. "Just hurry and get yourself cleaned up before your party guests arrive."
"My…party guests?" What has this woman gone and done?
"Oh my god, Katsuki! Yes, you little shit! Your father and I told you this already! We're throwing you a homecoming party for your birthday! You can't even honor our efforts by remembering? You're so goddamn ungrateful! We gave you everything life offers to be the best, and this is how you turned out?!" She storms off, leaving me poolside, barely alive. "And cover up those disgraceful Yakuza tattoos! You damned hoodlum!"
My old man's placating voice reaches me from inside my childhood home. "Welcome home, Katsuki!"
"Honey! Don't welcome his ungrateful butt back home! He should've kept his addictions in America!"
Addictions? "What're you squawking about, old woman? How did I get here?" I yell at her back. Again, I search my memory for recollection of the night before, but everything fades to black after— Oh, shit!
Bliss...The Sea King!
But my head's beating out my skull, the scorching sun's blaring in my eyes, and I can't bear to think too hard. My throat burns for water, and my brain for a bottle of ibuprofen. Addictions. Right. Three years of total sobriety down the drain.
I stumble out of the pool chair, feeling like shit. I hate myself for causing this suffering. It would be a long trek to my bedroom, but I must escape this muggy weather. My eyes slink toward the pool. I shake my head. No. I'm not sober enough to keep from dying face-down in the pool. The old hag would really hate that, and since I don't have a death wish, I'm not in the mood to tempt her with a good time crying over my dead body.
Something about that image of death triggers a jolt through my thoughts.
Deku! Dammit!
( ◣∀◢)ψ
I take my time getting ready for this undesired party. I didn't even think I'd make it up the stairs to my room. But once I step inside the shower, the fog clouding my thoughts starts to lift. My angsty antics belie how much I'm a stickler for hygiene, but I need to get it together. I have stubble where my goatee should be, debris lodged in my hair gel, and fresh fight scars that I should've probably taken care of right away, but my memory refuses to tell me where they came from. Cleaning my body and space has always calmed me, and as I wash the sweat and grime off my face, I'm reminded that this is my happy place. The shower is my sensory respite; I take my grooming and skincare routine seriously, and a hot shower is the only time water isn't my enemy.
While showering, I find so much of Bliss' glitter on me that, even after the vigorous passes scrubbing them off, my skin still faintly glimmers, a haunting reminder of the bad shit I did last night. So, my mother will be pleased that I heeded her warning and dug out an appropriate outfit from my suitcases. I throw on an orange letter sweater over a solid black tank and a pair of black jeans, clasp a goldlink chain around my neck, its matching bracelet around my wrist, and slip into my favorite black loafers. Dousing myself with the most expensive cologne I own so that the scent lasts all day, I check myself in the mirror—no glitter or tattoos.
Fumbling with my choppy bangs, "Looks good enough," I tell my reflection, even though I feel worse than dog shit. Placing the final item on my face—sunglasses to hide the tired bags under my eyes—I leave my childhood bedroom.
.
The backyard party scene my parents created doesn't compare to last night's rave; it's wholesome and relaxed. While I'd rather be sleeping off this bullshit hangover and high, I'm glad they're worlds apart. That is until my eyes count half of my extended family and all my parents' favorite neighbors in the backyard.
I don't know why those fools invited all these people as if I'd want to spend any day with them, let alone my birthday.
The neighbors are nosy and noisy when they notice me come down the stairs, but it's the Bakugo clan that rattles my nerves. My dad's side of the family is large and loud and crowded in a rowdy bunch outside. Their collective sensitivities, aggression, and excitement over anything and everything put mine to shame, which is probably why my mother fit in so well once she met and married my dad. My anxiety spikes my heart rate. This is going to be a long day.
"Katsuki! Looking good, birthday boy!" My old man's annoying, cheery voice lies to me. "Come say hi to your aunts, uncles, and cousins! They flew all the way from Osaka, Okinawa, and Kyoto for you!" He waves me over to the smoking barbeque pit. Even from the back of the house, I can tell he's already sweating bullets from being around his siblings. A rainbow spectrum of spiky hair colors turns to face me while sliding the glass door, and I'm already over today.
"It took you long enough! And you better fix your face and take your hands out of your pockets before you reach them!" My mother barks from the basement bar, surrounded by some of her closest girlfriends. I scowl at her, but she flicks her hand in the air to dismiss me.
I already hate this!
It takes damn near an hour before I successfully manage to pull away from my family's constant touching and poke-nosing into my personal affairs. Everyone has been clamoring over me, refusing to mind their business, and asking me for money (though, to be fair, that was just my younger cousins who just learned I'm a paid pro hero). I lost track of how many times I've been asked how living in America was, if I'm back for good, how Pro Hero work has been, if I can get them an internship at Vestiges or let them meet Deku and Shoto, and most aggravating of all—
"So, Katsuki, my handsome boy," my tiny grandmother climbs onto my shoulders. "When are you finally getting married to a nice young lady, dear?" Her aged voice creaks in my ears.
"Don't climb me like a tree, Sobo!" I growl, picking her off my back.
"So you want to kill me?! I tell you, you've always been a hellish brute! And let me see your eyes, boy!" She fusses as I carefully place her on the ground, ducking her hands from pulling off my shades. It's weird to hold the old woman who held me as a baby like a toddler, but I've grown; she's shrunk, and times have changed.
"Kacchan! Happy birthday, dear!"
Only one woman calls me that; my body turns to stone when I hear her kind voice. I peer over my grandmother's barbed head (her short arms are still tugging at my sweater) and see a short, round woman I've known all my life approaching with arms wide open.
Not all things change with time; it feels like time hasn't changed her one bit, what with her bushy green ponytail and a heartwarming, motherly twinkle in her eye. I don't like, let alone love, many people. I barely like my parents (though I suppose I do love them).
But I adore Midoriya Inko. She's compassionate and has always spoken to and cared for me like a loving mother. Without her, the Deku I fell in love with wouldn't be. And I can't imagine a world in which Deku doesn't exist.
"Thank you, Auntie Inko," I greet Deku's mom, giving her my first genuine smile and hug all day. Just staring at her gives me goosebumps. Those same large and circular green eyes. That's Deku's face. She slides me an envelope, and I try to refuse because I know what's in it and she's been doing this all my life on every birthday she's seen me, but she glares me down, pinches my cheek, and stuffs the money-stuffed envelope in my back pocket with a wink. "Now, don't spend it all in one place, you hear?"
Rolling my eyes behind my shades, I chuckle. She's so cute. "I won't," I chuckle, kissing her cheek. "It's good to see you."
She cups my face, slowly taking my shades off, and sighs. I'm no longer used to her gentle touch. It tickles my freshly shaven skin. She's nothing like my mom. She's always seen and accepted me for who I am behind the angry bravado. "Aw! It's so good to see you, too, Katsuki! It's been far too long. And your skin is glowing! Is...that glitter?" I blush at that. Her eyes soften as she strokes my cheek with the pad of her thumb.
"Oh my! My dear, you look like you've been to hell and back."
I have.
"You know…when your mother told me she was throwing you a birthday party, I thought it was strange because Izuku told me you live in New York now. But then she called me yesterday saying she hadn't heard from you all day. You seriously worried her, you know? And me, too!" She frowns at me, but how her cheeks pinch her lips is too adorable to be irritated. "I told her to have the party still because you will always be her baby boy and…"
I remember Auntie Inko being a talker. I mean, she gave birth to Izuku, after all. She's who Deku gets it from. But she's yammering on about how much the old hag stresses over me, so I'm barely listening, trying to piece my night with her son back together. "Anyway, she never called me back, so I didn't expect to see you here. I don't think Izuku knows you're home!" That name knocks me out of my dissociation.
I look down at the finely aging woman and shake my head. "No need to shock him, Auntie. We'll cross paths soon enough."
"Of course! You two have been such great friends since your youth. He'll be excited to know you're back in Mitsuhara!" I hope she believes her optimism because I don't. Suddenly, I see a desperate pair of green eyes materialize in my mind. "How long are you back for?"
"Um…" I debate if it's worth telling her the truth. Deku and his mother are very close, best friends even. "I'm only here for a little under two weeks." It's best to hold my plans close to my chest.
"Oh, right! The Iida and Yaoyorozu wedding is next week, isn't it?" I swallow the hard lump in my throat and silently nod. "That's good! I'm sure Class A is excited about a lovely reunion! You all have maintained such a strong friendship over the years." I stretch my mug into a tight smile because I don't know how to lie to, nor do I dare explode on, this kind-hearted cabbage patch woman.
"Oh, I think I see a few of you guys' school friends. I'll leave you to catch up!" She kisses my cheek. "It's good to have you home, Katsuki! Don't be a stranger, you hear? I have a pot of katsu curry with your name on it." She winks, squeezes me, and walks off. I feel her love leave with her.
Kirishima waves me down. "Bro! Thank God you're alive!" He, Kaminari, Mina, and Sero cross my folks' backyard lawn; all smiles like they know some shit that they shouldn't. How those two fuckheads have fully recovered while I suffer in the sun is beyond me. But it pisses me off.
"Aw, hell! My folks invited you, too?" I rip off my sunglasses so they can see my angry face.
"Of course they did!" Sero slaps my back and hands me a gift bag. "Now, lower your eyebrows and take this. Don't worry about guessing. I'll tell you! It's a hangover care package because, man, do you look like hell!"
"Drugs and alcohol will do that to you," Kaminari solemnly nods.
Shut up! Not so loud, dumbass! My grandma's here!" I point to the short, elderly woman with ash-blonde spiky hair, smiling and waving across the pool.
My friends wave back. "Hi, Bakugo's grandma!"
I smack electric bolts out of Kami's head. "Weren't you the first of the three of us to get wasted?" I clearly remember holding his head up while he vomited on a patch of grass.
"Hey! What happens at raves stays at raves!"
"Bakugo! Babygirl! I heard about your recklessness last night!" Mina's hands rub my head.
"Aw, yeah? Then how come these two idiots know about me?"
"Bro, you were all over the late-night news!" Sero says, keeling over, laughing at my misery, and I feel like a dumbass.
"Yeah, that's how I found out, too! "Pinky pokes my gauges and yanks my earlobe. "You deserve a knuckle sandwich for leaving me out of the know about your homecoming, you know? I thought we were Bakusquad! How could you return to Japan and be so irresponsible without me?" She wails and tugs harder.
"Ow! Stop! Ask those two idiots!" Mina snaps her head at her boyfriend. Kirishima's eyes glaze over from fear.
"Babe. You were out at girls' night, remember?"
"Oh! Yeah! You're right. Hehe, my bad, Bakugo. Happy birthday, friend!" She pats my back and bounces to her boyfriend.
"Gee…thanks," I say, as dry as my throat is. "You two!" Kiri and Kami look at me, terrified. "Come with me. I've got some things to clear up."
We're on the curb at the end of my block, away from my house full of noisy neighbors and my prying family. My hand's on my popped hip as I stare my friends down. The sun's hiding behind large clouds, creating a shadow over us. There's no wind, but this cloudy shade is better than nothing.
"What the fuck happened last night?! Where were you two?" I'm shaking and sweating bullets—the after-effects of partying too hard.
"Way to be a sassy daddy on your birthday, Bak," Kaminari snorts. But Kirishima's face drops. "Man, you don't remember anything?"
"Nothing past this idiot pissing his pants." I jerk my head at Kaminari. "So, I don't expect Denki to remember shit, but you, Ejiro. You were supposed to have my back!"
"Hey, man! Don't blame me! That's not manly. Between whatever sick, twisted spell Bliss had over you and whatever's in their Quirk that made us space out, there was nothing I could do to stop you. I tried, trust me. But, you're not the easiest to take down when you're sober."
"Yeah, Bak, you're a monster under the influence!" You don't know how much I want to throttle Kami's neck right now, but that would only prove his accusation correct.
"Shut it! I told you guys that going to that rave would be a bad idea."
Kami put his hand on my shoulder. "Yeah, we saw the news…" I shrug it off. I hate my friend so much.
"You saw it on the news, too? I was fighting for my life, and you were just watching it on Tokyo Tonight when you should've had my back?!"
"I mean, I was pretty incapacitated. So, I would've been useless on the battlefield. Besides, Deku seemed to have your back..." The air around us is silent. I'm seething, but my face is as stoic as a statue. Kiri backs up and tries to stand between us. "So, I know you were in good hands."
"Denki. Bro..." Kiri warns.
"What, Kirishima? I'm just stating the obvious! Bakugo knows he was happy to see this knight in shining armor rush to his rescue!" He's cackling, ducking, and dodging behind Kirishima my explosive attacks. "Okay! Stop! Goodness! Look, man. When Jiro came to pick us up from the warehouse, it seemed like you and Bliss were good." My hand is still extended like a claw and is popping with my nitroglycerin; I snap my head to Kiri to confirm.
"It's true, man. You told us you were good, and it was fine to leave you because you were going back to Bliss's hotel to... Should I quote you?"
"Do it!" Kami eggs him on, and for once, I agree.
"Go ahead."
"you were going back to Bliss's hotel to, and I quote, fuck this sea monster's brains out." Kiri grimaces, Kami cringes, and I'm stuck on stupid.
"AND YOU DIDN'T STOP ME?! CLEARLY, I WAS ZOOTED OUT MY MIND."
They glance at each other, stumped. Kaminari speaks up, and he's sober. "Katsuki, bro. You fought and forced us to get in the Uber. You really don't remember smashing your fists into Ejiro's face in the parking lot when he asked you if you were sure?"
I stagger back. Humbled. Humiliated. "So...you guys didn't drop me at my folks' house?"
"Nah, it wasn't us. Because if it weren't for Bliss, we might've come to blows for real. I wanted to kill you!" Kirishima says, but there's no malcontent in his words.
"Damn." It's all coming back to me. Kami slumped over his partner's shoulder, Ears asking me if I was okay, Bliss's arm around my midsection…and Kiri waving his hands in my face. I thought he was trying to fight me. "Aw, man. My fault, Kiri. Damn."
"Eh, forget it. It's all water under the bridge now! I was heated at the moment, but we're both a couple of hardheads, so we're good!" Kiri knocks his skull, then daps me up, and I am again reminded of his unwavering loyalty. We start walking back to my house.
Kami stops and stretches his arm out to block Kiri. They turn to face me. "Wait. Did Bakugo just apologize?"
"Yup! And it was so manly."
"Argh, shut up." I roll my eyes but am deeply grateful for his swift forgiveness. I'll have to remember to get him something for his birthday...once I learn it. I turned to face them, walking backward since I knew those sidewalk steps like scars on the back of my hand. "So, who brought me home?"
Again, with them passing skittish looks at each other. "We…uh…gotta go! Isn't that right, Ejiro?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah! We'll just leave you two to it." They speed up and turn left down my parent's front walkway.
"You two? What are you idiots talking about? We're the only three out here!"
I feel the gentle breeze before I register it as deja vu. This time, it tickles the tiny hairs on my skin, running goosebumps along my neck and arms. My friends are no longer in my field of vision. A sudden image of him standing behind me, pressing his chest into my back and nuzzling his face into the curve of my neck, flashes before my eyes. Then, the lightning-green scenes of last night's deadly battle begin filtering through.
"Happy birthday, Kacchan!"
( ◣∀◢)ψ
My heart jumps in my throat the instant I hear his voice. That childhood name only he calls me. The childish name that no grown man should call another. "D-Deku? What are you doing here?!" He's holding a gift bag with both hands and smiling at me like he swallowed the sun.
"My mom told me you were having a birthday party." He looks as nervous as I feel. My suspicion leaks through my scowl because that woman lied to me!
"So, you came all the way here from the middle of the Pacific to attend my birthday party?"
"No, I spent this morning with her. Can I come in?" I nod, walking us towards the front of my house.
"Oh. Then. Did…" I sigh in defeat, trying not to look at him. I don't feel like coming face-to-face with my shame and humiliation again. "Were you the one who brought me home?"
"No. Ingenium did. I couldn't leave Shoto. And I'm not allowed to enter your room, remember?" There's a long, awkward pause. "Did he wake your parents? I told him not to ring the doorbell."
"No. My mom woke me up on a lounge chair by the pool."
"Ah, smart thinking, Tenya!" He still goes through life with a silver-lining playbook. It makes me
"Yeah, I guess it's better than sleeping on the front lawn," I scoff. The hag would've turned the water sprinklers on me.
"Or what I would've done—broken into your bedroom window. Don't worry, I would've used Black Whip to minimize damage." He gave me a sidelong glance, and we burst out laughing. His eyes melt into a melancholy gaze. "You look better than expected, Kacchan. I'm glad."
Guilt clenches my abdominal muscles.
( ◣∀◢)ψ
He asks to talk privately, so I lead him to my bedroom. I open the door and toss the gift bag on my nightstand. It lands perfectly.
"Wow! I haven't been in here in ages! It's like stepping back in a time machine!" I glare at him over my shoulder, unsure if he's being facetious, trying to guilt-trip me as to why or if he's sincere. He's slowly touring my childhood bedroom, paying more attention to my memorabilia shrine than anything else.
"Woah, no way! You still have the limited edition All Might bottle cap I gave you on your fourth birthday?!"
Of course, he's being sincere. I scold myself for freezing us in time. This quiet moment alone is what I wanted; it's why I came back. Even if it happened at the worst, most ill-prepared time than I could have ever chosen in my right, sober mind, it was happening, and that's good. So, play nice, Katsuki!
He touched my shoulder. "That's awesome, man!" When I did not throw off his hand, he took hold of the other and gently turned me toward him. I let him. Deku's touch always had the power to tame me; it's why I got so good at slapping it away in the past.
"So, what do you want to talk about?" I already know that I should be the one to clear the air first, but I'm a coward. He stares at me, trying to read my eyes.
"So…"
"Spit it out already!" Just yell at me! Fight me! End my torture, Deku!
"Bliss?" His tone is concerned but maintains a light curiosity. How insufferable of him to try to remain non-judgmental. It only makes me hate myself more. "That's still a thing?" He picks a speck of glitter off my collarbone.
I rubbed my neck, shame burning my skin. "It's complicated. I don't want to get into it."
"Oh! You don't have to! I just…didn't think you'd still be spending your time with someone like…them."
"Hey. I like who I like. Why should gender matter?"
"That's not what I meant!"
"Then, what're you tryna say, Dek- Izuku?"
"I just hoped, after all this time, you'd grown out of that since we last saw each other." he peters. The shame now roars like a furnace in my chest.
"Yeah, well, it wasn't planned. Okay," I grumble. I swallow mean, biting words because they're not meant for him even if I hurl them his way.
"Hm. So, you do still like them." I heard the question, but I don't have to entertain it. So, I do what I do best.
I lash out. "Did you come to my birthday party to grill me? Isn't today your corny ass anniversary with Todoroki? Why did you come here, and where is he, anyway? Aren't you two supposed to be cut off from the world at a little remote getaway, celebrating?"
His eyes soften at my defensiveness, ignoring my inquiry for the second time. I brace myself for his scolding.
"Open your gift, Kacchan." Deku juts his chin over my shoulder, and my body seizes up. I'd completely forgotten about the gift bag on my nightstand. My high is tapering off, but my nervous system keeps blanking out.
He makes me so nervous—all of the time. But when Deku's unabashedly vulnerable, it makes my palms sting and sweat. It's like I'm plunging into a cold, deep sea. I'm made of fire and dynamite; I do not feel confident in this watery realm.
Deku sighs and rolls his eyes at me. "You don't always need to be so difficult, Kacchan." He leans over to grab the fire-orange gift bag. "But you do smell nice," he offers. Our cheeks graze as he pulls back, and I swear electricity passes between us. But when we lock eyes, he leaps off my bed and stands shaking, like he saw something he shouldn't have.
"Open it," he stutters. He's barely holding the bag; it's extended so far from his person. I snatch it from his limp grasp, carefully pulling the skull and crossbones gift paper. A subtle grin tugs the corner of my lips. So, he still does cute shit like this? I reach inside the bag and feel…
"Pull it out!" Deku's practically buzzing with nervous excitement.
"Calm down, Nerd! I'm coming." I hide an equally excited grin, slowly draw the item out, and confirm my suspicions—it's a book. A muted blue paperback book. I carelessly fan it with a deadpan stare. "A journal?"
"Yes, a journal..." he huffs and comes back to me—er, I mean, closer to me. But not just any journal. Flip it over!" He sounds too proud for my comfort. I don't know why I'm nervous. It wouldn't be Deku's first time giving me a gift, but I don't know. This time feels different somehow.
Suddenly, an old, irritating itch about how geeky he can be begins to boil in my gut. "Don't tell me what to do when I'm already doing it, you nerd!" Then, I immediately hated myself for losing my patience. He's only being his same enthusiastically generous self; why can't I just accept that from him? I'm confident Shoto does. Actually, he probably loves that shit and eats it right up while offering the same loving kindness. That's probably why they're entering year seven, and I can't even maintain five years of sobriety. This must be the self-sabotaging shame spiral my therapist said I keep doing with people I love.
He laughs. Damn, I didn't realize how much I missed hearing Deku's laughter. It's bright and heady, innocent and cheerful. Hearing it in my childhood bedroom makes me feel like a kid again.
"Okay, sheesh! Relax, Kacchan."
But I can't. I cannot relax when I flip the flimsy journal over and see the front cover.
"It's the first edition of the Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamite Hero Manual!" Deku rushes out.
I'm immediately overwhelmed by the attention to detail. He's excitedly muttering the specs and design, but my ears are ringing. I'm staring at Midoriya's impression of me in written form. Slowly, I opened it and skimmed through the pages. There are over a hundred front-and-back full pages of notes, statistics, and drawings of my ultimate moves and various costume designs. There's barely any room for the ink to breathe: so much time, so much information...
So much love.
"I found it on my bookshelf and…Kacchan? Are you crying?"
Fuck it, it's my birthday. I pull him into a deep hug. "Thank you," I whisper, choking back tears. I feel him tense in my arms, but I'm ignoring it. "Thank you for forgiving me after all these years. Thank you for saving me again last night." Now that he's here, he feels so warm it's soothing, and I don't want to let go. "Thank you, Izuku. For everything."
"You're welcome, Kacchan." He stammers his words but leans into my body and hugs me back. My gut tingles—it surprises me—an old memory filters in.
Again, our cheeks graze. Again, our eyes meet.
At the edge of my bed, in the middle of my bedroom floor (I promise this is not a digression), there is an old explosion burn mark from when I nearly blew Deku's head off after he accidentally kissed me when we were playing heroes-vs-villains as kids.
I threw a punch, and we rolled off my bed. Deku tried to push me off of him, but since I had him pinned down, he had nowhere to go. But Deku has always been Deku. He found a way to push past my defenses. He broke through my arms' hold and propelled himself into my face.
Then it happened.
Even though I knew it was an accident, I blew up on him, beat him to a pulp, and banned him from entering my room ever again. He left crying, and I stayed in my room, overheated and confused. Yet, I kept the burn mark there and refused to cover it up even when my dad begged me to put a rug over it, and my mom threatened to buff it out. I kept it because it reminded me of the most intense experience since manifesting my Quirk.
And I never wanted to forget it—the feeling or the memory.
I know he's standing right on top of that mark.
So, I kiss him.
trust me; i know what you're thinking: "we're only six chapters in and we already earned a bkdk kiss? say what?!" hey, what can i say? bakugo's a wild boy! but the question is, will deku match his freak? gotta wait and see...
don't expect chapter 7 until mid-august. i have other projects that need my attention and i want to do this story and all my others their due diligence, but i welcome your comments on the story thus far. i'm also cross-posting this story and the shoto one on ao3 under the same title, under the pseudonym, 'queeranime'! i post on ao3 first, so you can find and subscribe there if you want to get the story a few hours/days earlier.
i hope reading up to this chapter has been PLUS ULTRA!
[I don't own the rights to MHA.]
~BKG OUT~ ( ◣∀◢)ψ