"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐈 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬?" - 𝐊. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨
𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨: This story is Slowburn, follows a couple of months after the epilogue and is accurate/realistic.
WARNING: My writing style is very detailed, so if you aren't into d...
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-2nd person pov-
October 6th, Friday - 2:06 am
Bakugo had just pulled away from Kirishima and Mina's house, the soft glow of the porch lights fading in the rearview mirror as he cruised through their neighborhood.
The streets were quiet and clean, lined with modern homes that all seemed to blur into a calming rhythm as you stared out the window.
Your eyes followed the warm-lit windows, the manicured lawns, the stillness of late-night suburbia, all while Bakugo drove in steady silence.
He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely against the console.
Once the car eased past the neighborhood entrance and merged onto the main road, a realization hit him—he still didn't have your address.
He flicked his gaze toward you.
You were completely tuned out, eyes unfocused, staring through the window as if the glass were the most interesting thing you'd ever seen.
For a moment, he just watched—your relaxed expression, the soft rise and fall of your shoulders, the way your lashes fluttered slightly with each passing streetlight.
He inhaled sharply through his nose—annoyed at both himself and the situation—then reached over and tapped your shoulder with the back of his hand.
The touch was light, almost hesitant, but firm enough to pull you from your thoughts.
You blinked and turned toward him, your wide, shining eyes catching the glow of the dashboard.
There was something curious about your expression—soft, attentive, and a little startled—that threw him off more than he expected.
"Uh..." he muttered, snapping his eyes back to the road, refusing to look at you again. "Put your place in the GPS," he said, pointing curtly at the screen.
His tone wasn't rude, exactly—just blunt, clipped, and expectant.
You nodded quickly. "Oh—right."
Leaning over, you typed in the name of your apartment complex while his eyes flicked between you and the road, as if making sure you didn't put some bullshit.
Once the address was entered, the navigation chimed, and you settled back against your seat.
● ● ●
Ten painfully slow minutes passed.
The car had never felt quieter. Not even the low hum of music from the radio could cut the tension completely.
