❝Stars Aligned❞ » Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

75

The week didn't bring answers—only silence.

The machine remained broken, the scientists avoided your calls, and no one from the agency dared to follow up. Not even Aizawa. The gloves were a constant reminder, soft black leather hugging your hands like restraints, separating you from the world—and from Bakugou.

You hadn't touched him in six days.

Six long excruciating days.

Not a brush of the fingers. Not a kiss. Not even a hand on his shoulder when he turned away during another one of his quiet spirals. The space between you two had grown extremely heavy. Not from lack of love, but from fear.

Fear of what your hands could do now.

Fear of hurting him. Of hurting yourself.

You wouldn't be able to handle it if you were to do anything to him.

So, you spent most of your time in your shared apartment, locked away from the world. The leather gloves stayed on even while you showered, the steam fogging up the mirror while you stared blankly at yourself. You barely recognized the person looking back.

Not a hero. Not a villain.

Just something in between.

Someone in denial of what they were given which was a quirk that wasn't theirs. A quirk that was dangerous, deadly and monstrous.

Bakugou tried. He made food, left little notes on the counter, wrapped you in blankets even when you protested and rejected the offers. And every time he reached for your face or tried to hold your hand, you'd jerk away—like you were something dirty. Something cursed. Something contagious.

Like you were infected.

It broke him deep down. He didn't say it, but you could see it in his eyes. The pain, the sadness, the rage, the anger and everything in between.

He was angry for you and he couldn't stand to see you go through this.

-

On the seventh day, he came home early from work since it was a rather slow day. You were sitting by the window in the living room, knees pulled to your chest, gloves resting in your lap for once. Bare hands. Naked and terrifying.

When he saw you like that, he froze in the doorway. You didn't look at him at first, afraid of the reality of everything that's been happening.

"I was testing myself," you said after a moment. "I've been sitting here for three hours. I haven't even bothered to touch anything yet."

He dropped his bag by the door, still wearing his hero suit dirty and sweaty as he stepped toward you with cautious footsteps—like he was approaching an injured animal. His voice was low, fragile, scared.

"You sure that's safe?" He was more so worried about you, your thoughts and your feelings.

"No." You laughed bitterly. "Nothing about me is safe anymore."

He sat down beside you on the floor, his shoulder brushing yours. He was trying to be gentle, he was trying to understand but he'll never understand, he'll never get it. He'll never have to go through something like this and he knew that.

"Then we'll figure it out together." He said softly and quietly.

"I can't even hold your hand, Katsuki," your voice cracked. "What kind of life is this?"

He turned to you fully, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his jaw told you everything. He held all the anger for you because you couldn't handle being angry, all you could do was be sad.