𝐓𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 (ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏᴜ x ᴏᴄ)

Chapter 19

"𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖..."
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　"𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝔽𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣."　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Music fills my ears yet again, the back door slamming closed behind me. I step into the kitchen, it's a lot more empty in here, a lot calmer. The lights are on too, which makes pouring myself a drink a whole lot easier.

"Did you finish helping your brother?" I glance up to my left, noticing two-toned hair tilting down at me as I focus on not spilling tequila everywhere.

"Yeah, Izuku's still out there if you wanna talk to him." I smile halfheartedly, screwing the cap back onto the bottle.

Shoto let's out a quiet chuckle. "I wanna talk to you." He says. The grapefruit soda I'm pouring into my cup suddenly increases in volume as I unwillingly tighten my hands around the bottle.

I blink down at it, pulling the soda back up and tightening the cap on before picking up the cup, leaning back against the counter, just as he is.

"You having fun?" I ask, genuinely curious if he's enjoying this much... loudness.

Todoroki watches me take a sip of my drink, my eye twitching ever so slightly at the horrid taste of it. "I guess so, are you?"

I refrain from groaning in annoyance, instead taking another sip of my drink before glancing up at him from the corner of my eye.

"I am when I talk to you." I smile up to him, swirling the contents of my cup before offering it to him.

He shakes his head softly, turning down my offer. I shrug, realising that it probably isn't a good idea for me to be drinking this much, anyway.

"You like Bakugou, huh?"

...

"Pardon?" I turn to him, wide-eyed, utterly confused and somewhat mortified.

Is it obvious? Am I being so fucking blatant about it? Wait- I don't even like him anymore. I don't care.

Don't think about him.

"I'm just guessing. You asked me if I thought he was good looking the other day so..." Shoto shrugs, noticing that I seem somewhat humiliated.

I sigh deeply, my brows furrowing with an unintentional tension. "I don't... I really don't like him."

Shoto chuckles to himself, placing his hands back onto the counter as he glances up to the ceiling.

Unwillingly, I let my gaze turn to him, my eyes dropping down to his jawline. It's nice. His face, I mean. It's actually really nice.

Like stupidly nice.

Like... Fucking beautiful.

"You're really pretty." I laugh, almost in disbelief that someone can look that perfect without even trying.

Shoto raises a brow down to me. "So are you." He smiles.