#LIKE— UGH! every single cherished memory that you hold dear with him was just rendered… one sided

[autumnalsteahouse]

oh nooooooo

okay but. easily nerd bakugou could be so angsty. because he really doesn't think you see him like that !! why would you !!

okay, yes. he's had you in his room and shown you all his hand-painted warhammer miniatures and you kissed him stupid after that and you both may have gotten a little handsy in the historical non-fiction section of the library and that's why the arm of his glasses is bent, just a little out of whack.

but.

"it ain't like that." is what he tells mina, begrudgingly, when she won't stop asking.

"well," she drawls, eyebrows raised as she leans in too close, as if she could squish the answer she wants out of him. "what is it like then?"

and bakugou just shrugs, digging his fingers into his eyes under his lenses. it's hard to know what you even want out of this, why you're doing any of it with him. doesn't make much sense, 'cause you could have anyone on campus you wanted and for some reason you're toying with him, of all people.

"it's—" he shrugs again, pressing his thumbs into the ends of his pencil until the tension threatens to snap it. "nothin', i guess."

and that is so not the right thing to say.

you find him on the second floor of the library, looking through different lectures on physics for his thermodynamics presentation that's coming up, and he does see you first. between the shelves, standing at the end of the aisle with your arms crossed—but the conversation with mina has been heavy on his mind lately; where is this going, anyway?

it's surprising, and bothersome, to think nowhere is the answer. so he pretends he doesn't see you, because he's not ready to face this.

but you are.

"bakugou."

he peeks around a shelf, just enough to show off his eyes, and—you're fucking pissed. and it doesn't help that you look so cute in your summery shirt and the way you've done your hair today and—

"nothing?" you're not being quiet, at all. whole library is watching already. "this is nothing to you?"

and bakugou doesn't really like having his shit aired out, so he fully comes out to face you, walking forward so you'll maybe lower your voice, but you're only stepping back, further and further from him.

"you're such an ass."

"what?" now his face goes red, temper flaring at the challenge in your tone—though as much as he wants to let you have it, too, it's you. and he doesn't want that. not really.

you, who have snuck into his classes just to watch his presentations and have sat idly by until he was done studying, patient as ever. you, who asked to learn how to build a model x-wing and wants to borrow his worn out copy of the last wish, simply because it's his. who wants to be invited to his next dnd game at the apartment and doesn't seem to mind—just watching, even—when he schools denki's ass in battlefield 3, match after match after match.

you, who is obviously hurt and frustrated and fucking pissed. you, with your bitten lips and watery eyes and clenched fists.

"you think you're so much better than everyone else," your words bite, even if they're weak. "but you're just like every guy ever. you and shindo can trade fucking stories, i'm sure."

ouch. "hey, how the fuck was i s'pposed to know this meant—fucking anything?"

"oh, i don't know, maybe when i was topless in your room! maybe that should have been some indication that this was serious!"

and he really, really hates having his shit aired out like this; the flush on his cheeks spreads to his chest, has him shifting uncomfortably under his sweater—both at the memory and your broadcast of it all.

there's really—nothing he wants to say, because he doesn't want to do this here. so he doesn't. just shrugs, pushing his frames back up his nose when they start to slip.

all you give him is one bitter laugh, a cold nod before you're tossing something onto a nearby table: a figure from his room, a piece from his set of battle sisters that you thought was cute. "kiss my ass, bakugou."

and then you're gone. and then it really is nothing.