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willowser-but-nsfw · 1 year ago

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this is just. a mess. of sad boy katsuki LOL angsty. not meant to be a sad ending. on this account because i will probably do a little more with it.

"alright, jus' sayin',"

katsuki looks up from the label of his beer, how it's peeling back from the glass with all his anxious fiddling, only to fix kaminari with a heated glare that has the blonde raising his hands in surrender.

"between me and you, she thinks you're not interested."

—and his stomach drops. considerably.

this entire night has been a bust, just as he knew it would be, and if he wasn't so sure that walking out would ruin any and all chances with you then he'd be long gone. filing himself down into something likeable has never been katsuki's strong suit; there's a wicked resentment the size of a wild little blonde boy, one that thrives on being as stubborn as possible in times like these.

kaminari whispers loudly, concealing nothing within the hand he cups around his lips. "you gotta make your move, dude!"

and if the doors to the women's restroom hadn't swung open at that exact moment, then there would have been only tatters left of the sparky little shit. katsuki leans back in their shared booth, wiping the threat of his hands off on his pants before tucking into his shoulder; what little bit of alcohol is in his system already has his face hot, and kaminari's subtlety is only furthering his flush.

it's hell, how aware of you he is.

before moving to acknowledge your return, already he can smell that you've reapplied your perfume—something spicy and dark that has his stomach tightening with a desire he doesn't know what to do with—and upon looking at you, all your features are sharper, brighter. remade, maybe, and the dreary tone of his thoughts has him wondering if he's caused the need, that had you wiping tears from your face because he's a fucking idiot.

you look — katsuki doesn't know the words, because they're too fragile and light for his vocabulary, too soft for his bite, for someone like him to hold; the only comparison he can make is to a dream, how you look in all of his.

but still — he finds himself leaning back into the corner, averting his eyes back down to the wood grain as he traces patternless shapes into the table. the heat of your attention makes his cheeks burn and his stomach flux; isn't it obvious, how nervous you make him? katsuki's sure you must be able to see right through the passive facade he's been trying to front all night. that he's been trying to keep up since he met you.

the blue light of your phone glows in his peripheral vision and when he dares a peek, your lips are in a thin line, withdrawn, before you look up to stare at jirou across the table — who just so happens to receive a chiming notification.

talking about him, most likely. how fucking bad he is at this, which is why he never should have agreed to coming out in the first fucking place. should have just kept his interest in you to himself, all in his head where you were safe and out of reach.

"i'm ready to go." ears says it while openly glaring at him, not softening her attitude in the slightest. denki shrinks, eyes jumping to the ceiling as he loudly slurps on his frilly drink. "do you think you can handle getting your date home, bakugou?"

it sounds an awful lot like a challenge and his jaw locks, nostrils flaring as he withholds from flipping the whole table on her. if it weren't for you being in his way, at the end of the booth, he'd be long fucking gone—

"oh, no, that's okay," your voice is soft when you speak up. defeated, almost, and all his annoyance fizzles out at the absence of a smile on your face. "the train station isn't far. don't worry about it."

and that sounds like doubt, so he grits out, "i can handle it," teeth grinding when ears rolls her eyes. something gets mumbled under her breath and denki pales and you take enough of a hint to step out of the booth, eyes on the ground as he shuffles past.

it's not until everyone is outside that you even say anything, hugging jirou too long, whispering in a too-low tone meant just for her. whatever it is earns you a sympathy that makes your eyes shine, and katsuki has to turn away before all the yeast and sugar brewing in his stomach comes back up. if he's made you fucking cry, then he'll never—

"sorry that we dragged you out," you've caught up quicker than he expected and finally, finally, you smile at him — but it's dim, and katsuki knows it's due to more than just a busted streetlamp. looks twice as heavy as it was when you first spotted him tonight, going so far as to leave your seat in order to meet him at the door, only to have him shy away from the hug you'd tried to offer.

a car blows by with the wind and katsuki feels the hands of time ticking away from him; how many nights has he laid awake, wondering what it would feel like to have you? just to touch, just to hold. all for himself.

and now he's fucking up his only chance.

what he should tell you is that he's been looking forward to this night all week, that he spent way too long picking out his clothes and fucking with his hair, that he even broke into whatever designer-brand cologne his old man got him last christmas.

but instead he shrugs, stares at the snow flurries collecting on your shoulder and mumbles, "wouldn't have come if i didn't wanna."

it's not the answer either of you were looking for, but it placates you some, enough that the smile on your face lifts with sincerity. katsuki loses himself in its curve and the apple of your cheeks, how cozy you look all bundled up for the winter; his stomach drops, hard, at the inescapable fact of just — how pretty you are, looking at him like that. intrigued, even after the failure tonight has been.

the hope in his chest thins out and he's taken back to your first meeting, at some show of ears'; intrigued then, too, but you were blind to the ugliness of his insecurities, his indecision. back then you didn't know that it would be like this, that he wouldn't be able to open himself up even a little fucking bit—

"i'm really glad you did," you say, raw and unafraid. "i like spending time with you, y'know?"

and what katsuki should say is that he likes spending time with you, too. enjoyed it since that first night, sitting far down the table from you, snickering to himself at the sharp-witted sarcasm sparkplug was constantly on the receiving end of. funny is a trait he doesn't find often, not in just anybody, and you're loved by the people closest to him and you don't know who he is or who he was and it's like a new beginning; katsuki can be whoever he wants to be, with you, and not just the worn remnants of an angry, vengeful child soldier and yet he's just — fucking it up.

"sorry," you laugh once to break the silence that's found its way back to the two of you, twisting your lips to one side so that the corners won't fall. "ah, i'm being so weird, huh? sorry."

"no, you—" his teeth grind as he thinks, hurried, though it seems like the harder he searches for the words, the faster they slip away. "it's—"

"i keep telling kyouka that she definitely read this wrong," the soles of your shoes scratch across the sidewalk and he thinks you've finally decided to abandon him, but you're just staring up at the high-rise buildings of downtown. blinking heavy, anywhere but here. "maybe now she'll finally get off my case about this."

this: him and his inability, his unwavering fear of coming up short. it's been a long time since he's had to meet someone new, had to hook them and keep them. all the shits in his inner circle planted themselves there against his will; katsuki doesn't know how to try, because he's never had to, not at this. there are very — very — few people whose approval he's ever needed, and wanting for it has never been anything short of painful.

it's okay, he tells himself — but it's toshinori's voice that echoes. it's okay to let people in.

another car goes by, another minute wasted; katsuki grunts, digging his fingers into his eyelids before frowning at you. at the zipper on your jacket, so he doesn't have to witness your disappointment any longer. "'s'why they need to stay the hell out of my business." his discomfort dissolves into irritation and makes itself known in his voice and in his scowl, the way everything does. "then shit like this wouldn't have to fuckin'—"

"it's okay, bakugou, really." you offer a wooden smile, the kind you have to hang up with nails. "you should head home, i don't want to keep you out any longer."

"i already told you i wouldn't—" the edge of his temper flares, reins coming loose. "if i didn't wanna be here, then—"

"seriously," you interrupt, "i'm a big girl, it's fine if you're not interested."

"that's not—" the snap of his teeth rattles his jaw, a muzzle over a wild animal; the bakugou he doesn't want you to meet is making his way out, ill-tempered and too sensitive for his own good. "there's no—fuck. look, i ain't stupid enough to believe that dunce face doesn't tell his little girlfriend every goddamn thing i say about you, so no, ears didn't read shit wrong."

(but maybe this is the only way to get the words out.)

katsuki sighs and steps back, inhaling the harsh december air until his lungs hurt. it's the most he's spoken all night and it's become the hardest thing he's had to say. "i just—don't—fuckin' know."

how to fix this. how to keep you. how to let the cracks in his foundation spread, until they're wide enough to slip past.

quietly, you nod, as if you could possibly understand the disaster of him. as if maybe you'd want to. headlights shine in the city-sheen of your eyes and his heart throbs, literally; how many times has he stared into nothing, wishing to know what it felt like to have you look at him like he was something more than he is? something better?

"what is it you don't know about?"

what he wants. how this will end. the depth this scar will wear into him. and— "you."

finally, finally, you smile at him again and it's as soft as you are warm. as safe as you are terrifying.

"do you want to? know about me?"

and what he should say is yes. what he wants to say is teach him, please, because if he has to go another night wondering if he really is better off behind his walls, he'll crumble. collapse back into himself. if he keeps looking at you as the battle and not the victory, then he'll never survive.

—but instead another car passes, and only silence follows in its wake.

#okay but imagine standing in front of this man trying to make a move and he's just frowning at you. dead silent.#i'd be like HA HA WOW AWKWAAAARRDDD i'm gonna dig my own grave thanks #he wants you but is afraid of you and doesn't like to be touched but wants to touch and is so akhfkjdahf about it all #and he's wasting so much time trying to figure it out on his own and it's driving him !! crazy !!#[ bakugou ]#bakugou drabble #blast from the past: hiatus q

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