But he couldn’t stop.

 

 I.Punch. Don’t. Punch. Like. Punch. That. Punch. Shitty nerd! Punch, punch, punch.

 

 The final impact sent the punching bag flying backwards, and Katsuki stumbled in place. Shit, he was tired. So tired he didn’t react in time when the punching bag came swinging back and ended up flat on the ground with an ‘umph!’

 

 For a moment, he just laid there, soaked in sweat and panting and incredibly frustrated. Also, his face was smarting.

 

  Fuck, he thought, this shit is so stupid.

 

 He shouldn’t have even been thinking about this so hard. There was no way he liked that idiot. He had bullied him for years! You don’t bully someone you like.

 

 And sure, maybe he felt a little sick to his stomach thinking back to all the times he’d shoved Deku to the ground, or made him cry, or left bruises on his milky white skin. Maybe he cared about him and occasionally went out of his way to make sure the little shit was staying relatively healthy and happy. Did that mean he liked him? No, it fucking didn’t.

 

 With a huff, Katsuki shoved himself upright, vehemently pushing any other thoughts on that topic to a dark little corner of his mind where they would stay for the rest of eternity, hopefully. He didn’t have time for that shit anyway. He had other things to worry about. Afterall, he still hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to Deku.

 

 He wasn’t just gonna let this go because some goddamn extra snuck a shot of them eating together like a fucking creep. If what he thought was happening was really happening, then he didn’t have time to spend thinking and being angry. He had to confront the idiot as soon as possible.

 

 Still trembling fingers lifted his phone from his pocket and typed out a quick, simple text.

 

  ‘Meet me at the park after your shift.’

 

-

 

 A few hours later had Katsuki slipping down the stairs and halfway out the door, phone in his hand open to a confirming message from Deku.

 

 “Katsuki Bakugou, where the hell do you think you’re going?” The old hag snapped right behind him, one hand on her hip and the other now curled in his hood. Damn hag.

Halfway to the MoonWhere stories live. Discover now