Quirkle and The Firecracker (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

Chapter 18 - Melody

BAKUGO POV

"Idiot..." You grumble softly as you turn your head to look at Y/N, your eyes find their way to the H/C girl. Your breath hitches as the afternoon sun catches her beautiful features, her E/C eyes seemingly shining and sway with the movement of the light... your mind goes blank, for a moment... She is all you can think of.

The curtains flutter as a surprise and harsh breeze drifts into the room as it pulls you out of your thoughts, your eyes catching sight of a guitar case.

"You play?" You inquire looking at Y/N as her eyes travel to the corner.

"Oh... Honestly, not even a whole song. Just some small parts from a few different songs" Y/N responds bashfully

"Play something" You ask, truly intrigued by what she does know.

"I'm not musically inclined, so it will be terrible" Y/N answers...her voice shaking from a slight nervousness

"Just play something" You snap back, taking a false tone of irritation

You watch as she moves over and sets the case down, popping the various locks on the case. Your eyes inspect the guitar, its very well maintained and looks almost brand new. But your eye catches something of even greater interest, a photograph... a picture of two children. One you can make out to be a very small Y/N and another boy with a huge grin and black hair.

"Somehow that kid looks familiar..." you grumble to yourself

You look up at Y/N to see her smiling at the same photo...somehow it's a sad smile...

YOUR POV

You reach for your guitar, surprised that Bakugo is so insistent about listening to you play... Worried that you really forgot all the pieces and fragments of songs, you pop the locks and open the case. Laying your eyes over the guitar, the very instrument you haven't touched or played, in such a long time. Smiling faintly and feeling a twinge of sadness and nostalgia when you see your old photo...you had forgotten it in the case and looked all over for it, though to no avail...you never did find it, until now.

You hesitantly reach for your guitar, picking it up and remembering the faint feeling of when you first got the guitar...how you used to play and practice tirelessly, for hours upon hours. Laughing about it being too big for you, saying you'll grow into it. This guitar was a gift...

A gift from your brother...

Your chest tightened with a familiar pain, you began trembling and felt the heat rise to your face...the familiar heat of when you're about to cry. You look up and meet those fiery red eyes with your E/C ones...your trembling stops.

"Right... I'm playing for you" you mumble, barely audible above a whisper.

You pluck each string individually hearing it's horrendously out of tune, as you begin plucking the strings and tuning the guitar until each string rings out with a clearer and smoother sound. You begin striking a few practice chords, familiarising your hands and fingers once again.

You begin strumming and humming to guide your playing, the chords begin to form a melodic tune as the song rises from the guitar... Humming and accompanying your playing, shyly and hesitantly you begin singing... somehow you couldn't help yourself.

I, I can remember

Standing by the wall

And the guns, shot above our heads

And we kissed, as though nothing could fall

And the shame, was on the other side