ARMOR [Bakugo Katsuki x reader]

9: boundaries

"So I figured out that I'm betting my future on you."

It went dead silent in the room. So silent that you could hear a pin drop, and how loudly your heart rang in your ears. If hehad come here to console you or try to make you feel better – he was failing miserably. He positively made you feel worse.

"Please don't say that," you breathed. Your stomach lurched again, and you reached out for your water bottle to try and cool down the sudden dizziness that overcame you again.

"I am saying it because you need to understand how fucking important this is."

"Don't you think that's why I'm freaking out, dumbass?"

A low snort rippled through his throat, and you glared at him in return. How dared he mock you when you were stressed out about fucking up his gear? Bakugo had probably envisioned a short-ass hero career and then been forced into early retirement, just so he wouldn't have one functional arm by the age of 30. Now, you were dangling the carrot of him achieving his dream to have a long career.

"You're shit at trying to console people," you broke the silence after a while, your thumbs picking at the label on your bottle. "Like you could have lied and said it was no big deal."

The silence tucked around both of you again. And you could feel yourself unravel at the seams because of it. Usually, you relished in silence, but right now you wanted to bang your head against the table to make some sound.

"You are a fucking genius when it comes to gear," Bakugo spat after three minutes of utter silence. Yeah, you counted. It was better than trying to fill the silence with something else. "Newbie award at the age of fifteen. You own a five-figure business. Another award last year –"

Your head shot up, and you stared at him in disbelief. How the hell did he know? Those awards were locked awaysomewhere far, far away from prying eyes. You had been proud of those awards for a solid minute and a half, now they were a burden. How far into your life had that hero student really researched? 

"I have done my research, nerd. I wouldn't sign off on something so important willingly, without knowing that the person I trusted took it seriously. I don't understand why you're fucking freaking out, you got this shit in the bag. Fuck, based on that thing –" Bakugo gestured to the mannequin to your left, and to the mind-controlled gear you were tinkering on for your end-of-the-year project, "– You could have made my gear in your fucking sleep."

Was that a compliment? Your gaze narrowed suspiciously. He really must be desperate to try and butter you up like this.

"So I don't understand why you're fucking spiraling."

You let out a low snort. Of course, he wouldn't understand.

"You're used to those life-altering scenarios," you muttered as you finally looked over at him, "I'm not. Those awards you speak of – I won them because I didn't care. It was just an assignment. Just an idea."

"It's not just an idea," he scoffed.

"It was," you shrugged dismissively, before sinking into the chair. "It is."

Bakugo looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a pointed glare – demanding a further explanation for your sudden response. Explaining to someone who put so much hard work in his passion that you just simply didn't care, wasn't exactly what you wanted to do. Your hands rubbed together awkwardly, your thumb pressing firmly down onto your knuckles.

"Fuck it," you exhaled under your breath, "I don't want to make gear for a living – that's why I fucking excel at it. Because I don't care whether it's good or not."