K.BAKUGO X READER (Cover art by me)
In a life where I'd be safe in one moment and on the brink of death in another, I realized that he was the only force that could ground me. Of all the people in the world. My volatile co-worker. My menacing rival...
AN: the plot gets a little confusing here... blame it on my amateur writing ability mixed with time-travel/alternate timeline nonsense haha... I tried my best to keep things clear but just in case,
Refer to parts/chapters:
★ 11 (after arguing in the hall)
★ End of 9 (nightmare in the cave)
★ 13 (talking with Bakugo outside, the ride down the mountain with Lynx)
★ End of part 6 (the dream of the battlefield)
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part eighteen
━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━
Coffee was a coping mechanism for me. The smell reminded me of childhood mornings. It kept me awake when I grew restless at night. It made me think of Bakugo and our walks together.
Closing the door behind me, I showered, forced myself into new clothes, and made my way down to the cafeteria. When I tried to soothe the ache in my chest with the poison I loved most, to my dismay, the coffee maker was broken... Someone had frayed the crap out of the electrical cord. Whoever was out to get me in my time of weakness would have to pay for it in a different life... That, or someone would be around to fix the machine in the morning.
Nothing changed much at first.
Empty-handed, I retreated to my room. Bakugo came to my door. Maybe to apologize, or to try and convince me that I needed to take care of myself, or otherwise, I'd be a detriment to the mission. He didn't point out my coffee this time like I was some sick addict who needed help.My body wasn't as jittery and wired from the caffeine, instead, half-awake and shuddering from the cold.
He told me to "Go the fuck back to sleep already," and we argued some more. I snipped that he should go without me, to leave me behind.
"So, that's how it is..."
The pain in his voice haunted me, knowing that there wouldn't be warm reconciliation to follow.
Because instead of staying awake, worrying and figuring out what my tired, broken self really wanted, I listened to him. I crawled into bed, and despite the nightmares I went to sleep.
I never ended up at his door. We never talked things through. We never kissed. He never knew the truth of my dreams. All over a cup of coffee...
If my memory served correctly, my quirk obeyed laws akin to the Butterfly Effect. I'd read about it once. Not that I was a genius on the matter, but I knew how it worked. It was a phenomenon to describe the reactionary effects of manipulating time. How the flap of a butterfly's wings may seem irrelevant in the present, but through a chain reaction of imperceivable events, it could be enough to cause a hurricane across the world.
