𝓝𝓸𝓽 𝓗𝓸𝔀 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓖𝓸𝓮𝓼 | Katsuki Bakugou x Male reader

Chapter 6

(M/N)'s appetite had returned with his desire to fight back. After weeks of feeling too worried to eat, he was famished.

"I want to taste everything in the room," he said to Katsuki.

He could see the blonde trying to read his expression, to figure out his transformation. Since he didn't know that President Nezu thought (M/N) had failed, he could only assume that (M/N) thought they had succeeded. Maybe even that (M/N) had some genuine happiness for their engagement. His eyes reflected his puzzlement only briefly, because they were on camera. "Then you'd better pace yourself," Katsuki said.

"Ok, no more than one bite of each dish," (M/N) said. His resolve was almost immediately broken at the first table, which had twenty or so soups.

Faces appeared, names were checked, pictures taken, kisses brushed on cheeks. Apparently (M/N)'s mockingjay pin had spawned a new fashion sensation, because several people came up to show him their accessories. His bird had been replicated on belt buckles, embroidered into silk lapels, even tattooed in intimate places. Everyone wanted to wear the winner's token. (M/N) could only imagine how angry that made President Nezu. But what could he do? The Games were such a hit here, where the berries were only a symbol of a desperate boy trying to save his lover.

Katsuki and (M/N) made no effort to find company but were constantly sought out. They were what no one wanted to miss at the party. (M/N) tried to act delighted, but he had zero interest in these Capitol people. They were only distractions from the food.

Every table presented new temptations, and even on (M/N)'s restricted one-taste-per-dish regimen, he began filling up quickly. He picked up a small roasted bird, bit into it, and his tongue flooded with orange sauce. But he made Katsuki eat the remainder because he wanted to keep tasting things, and the idea of throwing away food, as he saw so many people doing so casually, was abhorrent to him.

After about ten tables he was stuffed, and they had only sampled a small number of the dishes available.

Just then (M/N)'s prep team descended on them. They were nearly incoherent between the alcohol they had consumed and their ecstasy at being such a grand affair.

"Why aren't you eating?" one of them asked.

"I have been, but I can't hold another bite," (M/N) said. They all laughed as if that was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

"No one lets that stop them!" They led (M/N) and Katsuki over to a table that held tiny stemmed wine glasses filled with clear liquid. "Drink this!"

Katsuki picked one up and looked at it in confusion, before looking back up at the stylists.

One of them smiled at him. "It makes you sick, so you can go on eating!"

"How else are you supposed to try everything," another stylist said as they all laughed together.

(M/N) was speechless, staring at the little glasses and all they implied. Katsuki set his back on the table with extreme precision. "Come on, (M/N), let's dance."

Music filtered down from the clouds as Katsuki led (M/N) away from the team, the table, and out onto the floor.

(M/N) knew only a few dances at home, the kind that went with fiddle and flute music and required a good deal of space. But Emi had shown them some that were popular in the Capitol. The music was slow and dreamlike, so Katsuki pulled (M/N) into his arms and they moved in a circle with practically no steps at all. They were quiet for a while. Then Katsuki spoke in a strained voice.

"You go along, thinking you can deal with it, thinking maybe they're not so bad, and then you-" He cut himself off.

All (M/N) could think about was the emaciated bodies of the children on the kitchen table as his mother prescribed what the parents couldn't give. More food. Now that (M/N)'s family was rich, his mother would send some home with them. But often in the old days, there was nothing to give and the child was past saving, anyway. And here in the Capitol they're vomiting for the pleasure of filling their bellies again and again. Not from some illness of body or mind, not from spoiled food. It's what everyone did at a party. It was expected. Part of the fun.