✧ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ✧

Chapter Eleven: The Story That Never Happened

Katsuki Bakugou, Second-Year of High School

"Bakubro!" Kirishima shouts at me from across the empty classroom, it was currently lunch, and I had been trying to avoid what Eijiro had titled the 'Bakusquad.' Still, the dumbass hadn't noticed my displeasure at seeing him.

I keep my feet propped up on the wooden desk, my chair leaning backward, my face angled towards him. "What do you want, Shitty Hair?"

The redhead beams at me and whips out his Nikon camera, holding it up like a child, as if he wasn't worthy of owning it. "Look what finally came in!"

I scowl, withstanding the urge to tell him that his plan to become some half-assed YouTuber was a waste of his talent for acting, but knew Mina would kick my ass. "Cool," I grumble, already bored with the conversation.

"Isn't it, though!? Kaminari told me he'd show me how to set up a YouTube account if I bought him something!" Kirishima leaned against the window edge; we were at the back of the classroom, meaning no one would see us from the doorway. Not that it mattered, we had only kissed once, and since then, we had simply pretended nothing had happened. Which was fine with me, I don't need any distractions and certainly don't want them from that idiot.

"Listen, Bakugou," Kirishima mumbles, his grip tightened around his camera, eyes downcast, and I hold my breath, waiting for what he was going to say. After a little too much censorship, the idiot finally speaks up. "I, uh, do you want to go to the park with me?"

I glower and stand up, trying to ignore the disappointment that was already appearing. "What are you? Five?"

"I just thought it would be fun, is all." Eijiro mumbles, sounding oddly defensive, his hand twisting the lens cover of his camera back and forth.

I highly doubted that. If Kirishima wanted to go somewhere, it was almost always to get bubble tea or to check to see if a new set of Crocs had come out, and considering that he acts like a paralyzed possum around my next-door neighbor, Kota Izumi, it was apparent he was horrible around kids.

I reach down and grab the strap of my plain gray backpack, swinging it onto one of my shoulders. I should say no, exams were coming up, and the last thing I needed was to waste my time with someone as distracting as Shitty Hair. Besides, I refused to put up with continually questioning whether or not the asshole was going to kiss me or not. Despite my mind screaming for me to decline the shitty offer, I found my mouth accepting.

_____

"Oh! Bakubro, could I borrow your notes for Trig? I would use mine, but Kaminari dared Sero to put tape all over it, which distorted the formulas, and when I tried to rip it off, it invariably ripped." Kirishima rambled on about Hanta, barely taking a breath. We were walking along a barren side of town, most of the small buildings here were closed or for rent, making it the most efficient route to the little playground that was falling apart.

As always, I was barely listening to Eijiro, I grasped enough to respond if need be, but beyond that, I couldn't care less. Yet, something I hadn't felt before had begun to develop. Jealousy would be the correct term if it weren't because I wasn't into petty shit like that.

Kirishima stops in mid-sentence and squints at something ahead. I look up to see a massive swarm of people, some elderly, and some young, shouting and cheering around something. Eijiro grabs my wrist, and I'm reminded of the time Kaminari electrocuted himself while handling the lighting in the theater. My whole body, which was once relaxed, was tense, and small little sparks ran up and down my arms. He pulls me along, his crimson eyes eager, and I'm too absorbed in the shock of being touched to shout at him.