Chapter Text
Bakugou hadn’t seen Kirishima in a few weeks, nor Mina Ashido, his best friend. Bakugou supposed it was for the best, so he could get over his heartbreak, but it didn’t fill the gap in his chest. Katsuki was just so used to Kirishima’s blinding optimism and steady shoulder to lean on, that it felt wrong to turn around and not see him trailing behind him on patrol, smiling and teasing the taller man. Although he bitched about how annoying he was, and how he wanted him to leave him alone and Kirishima did the same, neither of them had ever actually meant it before. Now Kirishima did.
He glanced down to his phone. Where there would normally be at least twenty messages nagging him to respond or hang out with the “Bakuquad” (he hated that embarrassing nickname, how had it continued into their adult years?). Right now there was nothing–just a text from his service provider, telling him when his next payment was.
Not even Izuku had texted, although Bakugou told himself he shouldn’t be so surprised. The man wasn’t chasing after him anymore, he was chasing after Uraraka. He had made that very clear the moment he denied his offer, choosing to follow the girl out of the building. He could only imagine how close they had gotten after Deku confessed his feelings for her. The thought made him sick. The only thing keeping him from hurling right then and there on the side of the street was the fact they hadn’t gone public yet, so he didn’t have to see them or pretend to be happy about it. But he could only imagine the nightmare he’d experience once the media got wind of it, or they, god forbid, announced it with a corny instagram caption and a picture of them huddled together, twin smiles on their faces. It would be everywhere for weeks.
Bakugou frowned, turning the corner. His agency was right up ahead–the end of his route for the day. The sun was setting between the buildings, casting an orange glow over the sidewalk. It had been a boring shift, which was annoying considering he had desperately hoped for something to take his mind off Deku’s relationship. Or at least stop these negative thoughts grating on his nerves. Although he tried to be excited for Deku, and most of the time he genuinely was happy for him, his thoughts always became more bitter at the end of a long day. He sighed. It’s for the best, he told himself. Deku deserves her. Uraraka deserves him.
It was sickeningly sweet how much they cared for one another. Even before they started dating, it was clear to see how close they were to one another. Izuku had just… taken the next step. Look away, chasing what he deserved. And left Katsuki behind.
“Um, excuse me?” said a voice beside him. His head snapped towards the noise, surprised to find a sidekick behind him. Normally, he was much more perceptive, but his melancholy state was messing with his head. Now standing just a few feet in front of him, he took stock of her features—the woman was almost as tall as him, lean but with clear muscle. She had her hair tied into space buns, and was wearing an oversized leather jacket that almost fell to her knees. If he remembered correctly, her quirk was metal bending, and it reflected in her studded outfit, undoubtedly worn from many hours of hard work. She’d become a fan favorite quickly as soon as she stepped out of the sidekick position.
Despite this, it didn’t make him any happier to see her.
“Yes?” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. He was trying to be more friendly was extras because Deku had wanted him too–but it was still fucking hard when his natural reaction was either to just brush them aside and carry on without sparing them a glance or shouting bloody murderer.
“I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date with me this Saturday,” she said calmly, holding a fist out. Between her fingers were two tickets. “I have a reservation for Prosiac. I’ve heard it’s quite good, especially for more spicy foods.”
Wow. Direct. And surprisingly thoughtful. If Katsuki didn’t want to scream his head off he’d be impressed. And if he was into anyone other than a certain green haired nerd plaguing his nightmares, he might even be touched.
But no one compared to him.
“No,” he said, shaking his head and stepping away.
Her face dropped—almost imperceptibly, but still there. He winced, realizing how blunt he sounded. After just receiving his own harsh rejection a few days ago, he could understand the feeling, so quickly, in a rare moment of vulnerability he tacked on, “I’m not into women.”
Her eyes widened just a bit before she nodded. “Understandable. Hope all goes well for you.” She bowed slightly before turning away. “Have a good day.”
“You too,” he responded, resuming his walk to his agency, green eyes still sparkling in the edge of his vision.
Driving home that day, he silently hoped she found someone that deserved her.