Stuck With You | Katsuki Bakugou x OC [Book One]

Chapter 117 - The Light He Showed Her

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Bakugou never returned last night. However, Kira knew exactly where he was the whole time, having listened to him train all through the night, venting his anger and frustration out on the defenceless trees. Kira heard his fists beat against wood for hours, never stopping, relentless. Part of her wanted to storm out there and tell him to give it a rest, but she couldn't get her feet to move, too anxious to see his dismissive expression, too frightened of the rejection.

Instead, Kira stayed up with him, watching him work himself to the bone all night through the blinds of her window, his knuckles bleeding, his sweat slicking his hair to his neck and forehead. Neither one of them slept that night.

Akira wondered if everything they shared together during these last few days will simply vanish the second they return to their own reality, if they'll just pretend that certain thoughts and feelings that they experienced never even occurred. She couldn't just forget the words they've shared, the tension, the looks. His brilliant eyes remain constant in her mind, like she'll never be able to rid Bakugou from her now. She didn't know if she even wanted to or not.

Even last night, something was going to happen between the two of them, something that seemed to have a mind of its own. Whether that occurrence was going to be a mistake or something beginning, Kira will now never know, but what's to stop her and Bakugou finding themselves in another similar situation just because they share something new and scary? This sensation she feels is completely foreign to Kira, unlike anything she felt when she was by Kirishima's side. That felt safe, sincere. This is terrifying and unpredictable, causing her heart to leap to her throat at the mere mention of Bakugou's name. She clung to parts of him that only she can define: his eyes, his scent, his undying character.

Kira felt that if he ever admitted feelings to her, sharing the same emotions that coursed through her veins, then she'd simply explode. However, the chance that he mirrors a fraction of her affection is slim. No - it's non-existent. Her mind must have been playing tricks on her last night. After all, it was dark and her mind was galloping, trying to steady her racing adrenaline, her fractured heart. She must have been wanting to see her emotions returned so badly, that she's seeing things that aren't really there. All Bakugou cares about is being the next number one hero.

Today was the day that Class 1A returned home. As Kira watched Bakugou, they simultaneously noticed the sun beginning to rise and so Bakugou wiped the sweat from his brow, observed his handiwork and started to make his way back to the cabin. When he heads back up the steps towards his room, should she bid him a 'good morning'? Or should she simply ignore him? She skipped over to her door on her tiptoes, as if any creak of this old cabin would put her in the spotlight. Such a bizarre thought as she's still in her bedroom with no one around to witness her strangeness. Kira placed her ear on her door, listening for footsteps, when she heard them, firm and loud, like they had zero care in the world - definitely Bakugou. She was milliseconds away from opening her door to greet him when she abruptly hesitated, her hand curved and ready to latch onto the handle, but untouching. What is she: stupid? Wanting to cheerfully greet Katsuki Bakugou after he had just spent hours pummelling a few trees to a merciless death? That's a sure-fire way to meet her own untimely demise.

Instead, Kira cleared her throat and backed away from her door before starting to pack away her belongings, her eyes slowly moving to Bakugou's hoodie and shoes. Two parts of him that are now hers. Kira approached the now dented wall of her bedroom, scoffing at her rashness last night and picked up the hoodie before shoving it into her bag, burying it to the very bottom of her belongings, trying to hide it from the world. She wondered if he wanted it back? She slipped on the shoes, still far too big for her, as if she had expected them to transform into her size.