i hate you. (Bakugou Katsuki x OC)

45 | The Perfect Date

I once read that humans are nothing but dead stars. It was from something by Ada Limón—a poem we probably had to study in English class years ago. She painted this picture of humans as spectacular beings, capable of surviving anything, of creating everything.

I think I finally understand it now. Maybe not in the way Limón meant—where she described humanity as forces of nature, built to demand change and protect one another—but in the romance of it all. Before I existed, my atoms were scattered across collapsing stars, and after I'm gone, they'll scatter again—maybe even to help destroy our very own sun. So if that's true, then during my life... what am I, but a dying star?

I'm not usually this reflective. Definitely not poetic—on a normal day, I leave that to the lines inked in my favorite books.

But time feels lost as my body dissolves beneath Mr. Compress's glass. In this space, I contain multitudes. In this space, my existence means nothing. I am a dying star; I am a nebula.

And then, suddenly, I'm not.

A sharp inhale rips through my lungs, and my muscles jolt back to reality as the glass prison shatters. I'm slammed back into my body—solid, breathing, existing again. My ears ring; everything feels too heavy, too loud. A dull ache pulses behind my eyes, and when the world finally sharpens into focus, I realize I'm lying on the cold, wooden floor of a bar.

The first thing I notice is warmth.

Warm arms. A warm body. Holding me.

Katsuki's grip is tight, almost painfully so, like he's trying to keep me grounded with pure force. I blink, still disoriented, the room spinning around me. But as my mind catches up to my body, I begin to take stock of the situation.

We're not alone. Bodies stand, watching us, but somehow, we're both free, sprawled on the floor. And Katsuki is—

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Katsuki's voice slices through the fog in my head, sharp and furious, but underneath, I hear a tremor. His eyes are locked onto mine, a wildfire of anger mixed with something else—something that flickers and dies before I can place it.

"Huh?" My voice cracks, the words I want to say buried under the weight of my atoms realigning. My chest aches like I've been torn apart and hastily stitched back together. "What was I thinking?"

I try to sit up, but my muscles are sluggish, refusing to cooperate. Katsuki doesn't help, his hands gripping me tight, the heat from his palms seeping through my skin.

"You—" His jaw tightens, and he stumbles over the words. "You had to play the damn hero, didn't you? Don't even try to deny it. There's no way Deku or Icy-Hot would've let this happen. You snuck off like a moron and got yourself caught, right?"

His words hit like a barrage of explosions, each one louder and more intense than the last. My heart pounds, half from panic and half from exhaustion. I try to speak, to tell him it wasn't like that, but Katsuki's not done yet.

"Do you have any idea what could've happened to you? We don't even know what these assholes want, and you just waltz right in!"

"Popcorn—" I croak, but he cuts me off before I can explain.

"Damn it, Koyasu!" His grip tightens, just shy of bruising. "You're so stupid sometimes! You can't just—"

"Katsuki, I didn't sneak off!" I snap, my voice cracking under the strain. The words are rough, dragged from the deepest part of me still trying to process what just happened. "Not entirely, anyway. Dabi separated me from Shoto and Shoji."