Among the Amaryllis | B. Katsuki

Two

Two

Two days pass before you see Bakugou again.

You're awaiting a delivery from your usual supplier, repeatedly eyeing the small alarm clock that is propped on the far side of the counter as you busy yourself with a large order of yellow-toned roses. It's another warm day, and today, you've used one of the trolleys to prop open the entrance door in the hopes to encourage the humidity outside. It does little to filter the air, however, and it isn't long before you're taking a break to try and switch on the large air-conditioning unit. However, the machine is notorious for breaking down on you, an it's because of this that you rarely attempt to use it. But today, you're desperate enough to precariously balance on the top of the stool that you've swiped from behind the counter. You're too busy pressing just about every button on the blasted device, other hand thumping down on the lid, that you don't register the sound of footsteps until it's too late.

'Don't think you're s'pposed to hit it like that.'

Startled, you release an embarrassing shriek, followed by a curse word that is expelled from between your lips, your entire body wobbling dangerously atop the stool. A pair of warm, strong hands encircle the width of your bare thighs as they reach out to grip you in order to prevent your fall, and when you turn your head, it is Bakugou who happens to be your saving grace. You're sure that your expression reads as embarrassed as you feel, and you stammer out a rushed apology.

His expression is unusually passive as he slowly pulls away once he deems you safe, before offering a hand to help you down from the stool. You pray that your palms aren't as clammy as you suspect, your hand easily slipping into his.

Once both of your feet are safely upon the ground, he takes a step back, crimson stare unblinking as it sweeps over your entire form. Usually, you'd be giddy with the attention that he's giving you, but the frown that is tugging at the space between his brows as he regards your outfit with a calculated stare is one that makes your stomach drop. Clearly, there's something he dislikes about your clothing, because although he doesn't comment, you'd be blind to not see the disapproval that pulls the corners of his mouth downward.

'You wearin' that to work?'

Your eyes close, and any form of thanks that you'd previously planned to express are rapidly forgotten as you expel a puff of air from between your lips. Personally, you don't see the issue with your clothes; a pair of mid-thigh, light washed denim shorts, and an oversized t-shirt that is tucked into the high waistband. Your legs are bare, save for the dainty anklet that Mina had gifted you after a trip to the seaside a few weeks ago, your feet stuffed into an old pair of sandals. It's definitely on the casual side, but it's also weather appropriate, and so, you turn away from Bakugou's raised eyebrow, swallowing down the pained bolt of disappointment that churns at your nerves.

'It's warm,' is all you offer in response, pointedly avoiding his gaze as you bend to pick up a stem that has fallen from the tabletop.

'You're inside,' he doesn't miss a beat, quick to fire a counter-response—much to your chagrin—because although he's not exactly incorrect, you quickly decide to refuse to allow his matter-of-fact attitude to put a downer on your day.

Instead, you click your tongue at him, unaware as to how the reds of his eyes are fixated to the expanse of skin that is displayed before him, as you're too busy staring up at the air-con unit with a look of contempt twisting a frown between your brows.

'Any idea how to fix one of these, hero?' Your question snaps him from what ever reverie he's fallen into, and his eyes blink once, twice, before focusing on the hopeful smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth.