Falling in Love with Katsuki Bakugo

Part Nine

I had a good best friend, I guess.

"What do you mean?" I grumbled.

"I mean . . . this was the plan, right? Now that it's done, you and Y/N can 'break up' now, and you don't have to fake anything anymore!" He said, trying to be happy for me. He knew this fake relationship was strange for me. I may have seemed confident, but I had confided a lot of worries about it in Kirishima.

Like . . .

What if my performance wasn't good enough?

What if they never got together?

What if Y/N caught feelings?

What if I. . . ?

I wouldn't let myself give in to something as dumb as that. Who was I? The Great Katsuki Bakugo had no time for such trivial things in life. He had more than enough shit going on by himself. As if he would take on another person's shit in a relationship—yeah right.

But maybe . . . maybe I'm not as "Great" as I thought I was anymore.

I had passed myself off as 'too tired' to continue our conversation and locked myself in my room. Kirishima probably knew better than to take that half-assed excuse, but he was good not to bother me. He at least made himself available.

And that's how I got here.

Alone.

And miserable.

In a dark room.

A roomed that was filled with all kinds of romance manga and novels that I would read on weekends when I had some time to myself. Romances that were far too good to even think of dreaming about for me. Far too tricky.

There was always a pattern in any type of romance.

Any true romance.

It was never straight to the point and fluffy all the time.

There was always the good beginning, the trivial middle, and that determined the end. The end that was either happily-ever-after, or the one that left the character—and the readers—in heartbreak.

Not that I was speaking from experience or anything.

No way would I ever . . . cry over a dumb story. Pfft.

I dunno why sad romance novels always caught my attention. I guess it was an 'outlet,' or whatever Kirishima called it. He was the only one who knew about my affiliation and fondness of the romance genre.

He even called it manly.

Heh.

But now we were back to the current issue. The break-up. Did Y/N know about Kaminari and Jirou finally getting together? I wouldn't be surprised if Jirou told Ashido, and Ashido told Y/N.

My mind flashed back to the scene in the hallway from earlier. The way they had bumped into me and made a small sound was absolutely adorable, and the way they looked up at me so confused and innocently, as if trying to realize what had happened as I held onto their arms, was so alluring.

Wait. No.

I smacked my temple. "Stop that, you fucking moron." Y/N had made it very clear that this whole relationship had been purely pretend. And I intended to keep it that way. But . . . was that still what they wanted?

Thinking back to their mannerisms whenever we were "pretending," their denial of having feelings for me was a bit doubtful.

My heart sank in a matter of seconds. 

What if they just . . . didn't want to like me? Maybe this whole pretend-thing triggered unwanted feelings for an . . . unwanted person. Of course. That made perfect sense. Why would someone like Y/N want to admit to being interested in some useless shit like me? They probably heard rumors. 

About the slime incident in middle school. 

About my rage on the sports festival podium--no, I knew for a fact that they had seen that. It . . . wasn't the best situation I could be in . . .

About the kidnapping during summer training. 

About the way I needed to be saved and couldn't save myself. 

I was a weakling. They were . . . strong. All I had that was "great" was my quirk. I had been told that my whole life. 

It didn't matter what kind of shit personality you may have; if your quirk was strong, people respected you. People admired you. People wanted to be you, wanted to be with you, wanted to be around you. 

At least, that's how it was with all the shallow bitches in elementary and middle school. Even the teachers treated me better cuz of my quirk. I mean, sure, I was smart and pulled my own weight in my studies, but they didn't care about that. Not in a hero society like ours. 

But here at UA . . .

At first, everyone tried to steer clear of me once they knew what I was like. I was defensive, quick to rage, only cared about myself and my own success--more so than now. They still tried to include me in some things, but of course, I would decline, thinking I was too good to be around some side characters. Even Deku had some new friends to hang out with. Our rivalry changed while we were here. It changed for the better . . . much better. I'm friends with him again. It was like we were four years old again, before our quirks were determined, and we were just two kids admiring the fuck out of All Might. It was the people here that helped me grow. 

Aizawa, All Might, Midnight, Present Mic--all fantastic teachers who wouldn't put up with my dumb shit. 

Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido, and Sero--peers who, one by one, became friends and included me in their group, who I somehow became the leader of. 

Deku, Jirou, even Todoroki--others who have helped me in their own, significant ways. 

I had a circle now. 

I was relieved knowing that I could realize that growth didn't happen alone. 

It took a long fucking time, though. Second-year, and I'm still "developing." I still have things that haunt me, still have things that could trigger me. Weaknesses. Things that would make Y/N want nothing to do with me. 

And I could understand that. 

There were days when I thought I was amazing. I had to put on a confident air. I would only break with people I trusted, which were only two at the moment. 

Deku and Kirishima. 

I hated looking weak in front of them. But they made it clear that it wouldn't change their view of me, but rather help them understand me better. 

I had people who wanted to understand me. 

Really, why was I even worried about some dumb fake romance? I didn't need them. 

I'd have to 'break-up' with them soon. 

Maybe . . . not tomorrow, though. 

________________________________

A/N) I would 100% die for him.