"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-
December 1st, Friday - 7:33 am
“Bakugo?!”
You barely caught yourself from blurting his name too loudly, your voice stopping just short of a full-on exclamation.
Bakugo’s head snapped in your direction, his sharp crimson eyes narrowing slightly in confusion before widening just a fraction in recognition.
For a second, he just stared, clearly not expecting to see you.
Then, just as quickly, his expression twisted into something more familiar—annoyance.
“Tch. What the hell?!” he grumbled, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “What are you doing here?”
You blinked, momentarily thrown off by his reaction. “Me? I could ask you the same thing.”
The woman beside him—his mom, you quickly realized—perked up, her eyes flicking between the two of you with growing interest.
Bakugo stiffened, his jaw clenching. “Why the hell do I keep running into you?” He raised a brow, his eyes widening slightly. “Are you stalking me or something?”
“What?! No!” You exclaimed, waving your hands in front of you. “I just come here to work.”
Bakugo scoffed, his brows furrowing. “Work?” He eyed you skeptically. “You work here?”
You shook your head quickly. “Not actually.” You corrected, tucking your phone back into your bag.
“I work for a business that lets me take calls from home.” You gestured vaguely to the café around you, suddenly aware of how ordinary your routine sounded under his scrutiny. “I just come here for a change of environment.”
He made a face, somewhere between unimpressed and mildly interested.
Bakugo clicked his tongue, giving you a once-over. “Uh-huh…”
Before you could respond, his mom suddenly hummed, a smirk tugging at her lips as she slipped her card back into her wallet, tucking it neatly into her purse. “Well, this is interesting,” she mused, eyes gleaming.
She adjusted the strap over her shoulder before turning her full attention to the two of you as she stepped from the register. “You two know each other?”
There was something knowing in her gaze, the kind of mischief only a mother could manage.
She leaned forward slightly, resting a hand on her hip. “And here I thought my son didn’t have any friends outside his usual group.”
