miracle romance (bakugou x reader love story)

summer start

Bakugou never really felt understood. At least, not by most people.

They like what they see, until they don't.

He can tell - and sometimes he's even smug about it - how terrified, how awe stricken, how some sense of respect comes from being a symbol of victory that isn't all talk. He's fucking proud of it too.

That's what he wants people to see, a victor.

But most people strike up one conversation with him and still see the angry kid throwing a tantrum on stage, the angry kid who yells too much, the angry kid who deserved a beating, the angry kid who can't take a joke.

Don't get it twisted, he thinks he's come a long way since the first day of school; he remembers that kid: arrogant, furious, betrayed, scared. But there's always one more thing that'll take him back there.

It's like his brain is always on a timer - counting down, resetting, restarting. God help anyone who hits it to zero. A living, sitting bomb waiting to happen at any time.

That's something he respects about Kirishima; he knows his boundaries, and he didn't have to say shit to him when he brushed past the obnoxiously louder group of guys laughing at a pathetic joke they made and hauled himself down to the back of the bus.

He's so irritated.

Why the fuck did the shitty school have to make camp in the forest again? Didn't they learn anything?!

In the aisle, Kirishima makes a questioning motion with his arms, receiving the answer in the way the hothead's glare never leaves him as he shoves earbuds in and makes himself mighty comfortable.

It's only until he's throwing his feet onto the empty space beside him that he notices the person sitting across from him.

Nails.

You were one of the first people onboard, on a mission to snatch a window seat, which you successfully got. You had already made yourself comfortable on the widest seat on the bus, in the very back, flipping your hair back and turning up your music.

You wonder if you should take the opportunity to nap as you're a bit tired from staying up reading, but just as you're about to find a comfy spot to rest your head on, you catch movement in your peripheral, long plush seat sinking down with someone's blunt weight.

Bakugou...

He slides himself down to the opposite window seat before swinging his feet up in the middle between you, looking mad but when does he not with that scowl forever on his face.

Should you acknowledge him? Like the sad person you are, your little moment at the arcade has crossed your mind more than once in the past week, trying hard to ignore the cringe of the dumb stuff you said out loud.

It should be a good sign that he's not bothered with sitting next to you.

You should say hi, right?

You want to say hi.

Instead, you accidentally make eye contact and instinctively look back down at your phone and pretend to be busy on it.

Maybe another time.

So that's the cold shoulder those idiots meant.

He doesn't know why he expected you to say hi. He's barely interacted with you, but the day last week hasn't left his mind with the new information he happened to get.

Of course, you'd be at the back of the bus, away from everyone, on that damn phone like always. He snorts as he thinks of what Dunce Face and Raccoon Eyes would think if they noticed. Probably whine about how that's more evidence you're a stuck-up bitch.