A Series Of Incidents (Katsuki Bakugou x reader)

[FOURTEEN]

Katsuki.

That's who I'm up against next.

The words burn into my brain as my eyes scan the board. I shrink into my neck.

"Another one bites the dust," I whisper, clutching my arm.

"Too right."

I jolt, and instantly look to my left, where Katsuki's standing. He doesn't look happy, not sad; there's not a trace of emotion on his face.

I wonder if my parents watch this, if they'll react to me getting blasted across the arena like a pebble...

I swallow loudly.

"I'm going to kick your ass," Katsuki states.

"I want to break free," I mumble. "I want to break free from your lies, you're so self satisfied, I don't need you."

"You talking bout me?!" asks Katsuki, turning to me with a murderous expression painted on his face.

"No," I sigh, "it's a song. I actually think... it's more of a reference to my parents... it's strange but it's true, I can't get over the way you love me like you do." I sing, suddenly in full theatrical mood, "But I have to be sure, when I walk out that door, oh how I want to be free, baby!"

Katsuki stares at me. "You're so weird,"

"I prefer the term unique." I say. "It's more fashionable."

"Jesus, this is like the time when Shitty Hair asked you what your best quality was and you said 1080p. It was so fucking cringy." He groans at the memory, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion.

I chuckle, "I'm so full of it, aren't I?"

"Damn right you are." Katsuki agrees, before side eyeing me. "Or at least you act like it."

I jump. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," he mutters, "joking about your suffering is kinda your thing, isn't it?"

"I'm not going to deny anything." I state. "But neither confirm."

We continue this strange conversation, until it's ten minutes before our fight, and we rush to the waiting rooms. No words are exchanged between us as we walk, and part.

In the quiet room, where the AC buzzes like an annoying trapped fly, I check my phone for the third time.

To my surprise, there's a single notification from the group.

My mother has decided to reply.

Clicking on it with a shaking finger, my wide eyes read over what she's sent.

Mum: we have been catching snippets of it on the television, whenever we break from the conference.

I exhale. Is that all?

Is that all you have to say? Really?

My hands shake with rage, and in a moment of pure anger, I hurtle my phone across the room. The thud of the protective case hitting the wall to rings out ceremoniously.

I sit heavily back down.

But life still goes on.

"Next participants please make your way to the arena. I repeat..."

I can get used to living without, living without, living without you.

Standing up again, I walk across to where my phone is, and reluctantly pick it up. I then decide to put it on do not disturb. Not that they'd bother to disturb me any way. I then place it on the table.