"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 21st, Saturday - 9:50 pm
You leaned back into the couch with a satisfied sigh, plate cleaned, glass nearly empty, the sound of the rain still trickling against the windows.
The house felt quiet, warm, lived-in.
You glanced over at Bakugo who was also finishing up, leaned forward slightly with his elbows on his knees, chewing the last bite with an almost lazy efficiency.
"Alright," you exhaled. "We should clean up. You cooked, so I got dishes."
He side-eyed you. "You sure you can handle that?" he asked, tone dry.
You rolled your eyes and stood up, gathering your plate and his before he could say another word. "Be for real, yes."
He grunted and stood up too, grabbing the glasses and the empty lemonade bottle before following you to the sink.
The kitchen wasn't huge, but it was efficient-modern with matte black accents and warm wood finishes.
You turned the water on, rinsing the dishes with practiced ease.
Bakugo moved beside you, grabbed a dish towel from a drawer, and leaned casually against the counter.
He started drying the first plate you handed him without a word.
"You know," you said, eyes on the sink as you scrubbed a fork clean, "for someone who acts like he hates people, you have surprisingly decent manners."
He gave a soft scoff. "Tch. Basic hygiene and respect isn't manners, it's common sense."
You laughed. "Okay, minimalist."
He rolled his eyes but you caught the smirk tugging at his mouth.
You handed him another dish, and he took it without looking at you, drying it in smooth, methodical motions.
For a few minutes, it was quiet.
Just the running water and the soft clink of plates.
