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Jirou’s eyes swept across the hall. Moonlight washed over it from large windows, providing just enough light for her to see. She was careful to walk on the balls of her feet. No need to let the others hear her. Her stomach growled in protest as she passed the kitchen and lounge room, which made her heart beat faster, since the bright lights emitted by a television usually meant that Kaminari and Kirishima had stayed up late again. Jirou frowned. That blond dunce really knew how to waste his time.
She was tempted to turn off the television- Kirishima had always been kind to her, after all. But she knew it would cost her precious seconds, seconds she couldn’t afford to waste. Jirou scuttled by the television, silent as a cat, following the smell of baked goods. She snorted. Get a load of this guy. Guess he didn’t quite get the memo. Normal people don’t cook past midnight…
Jirou entered the kitchen.
A small stove was nestled between two counters. Bowls sat on the one on the right, various cooking ingredients resting in their centers, joined by cookie sheets and other cooking items. A male with a shock of ash blond hair grumbled as he hurried to the stove, slippers squeaking against the wet floor, bending to open the stove to check on the fried food that lay within.
Jirou contemplated lingering for a bit before she let Bakugou know that she was there. Then, she realized, he would likely try to blow her face off. So she cleared her throat; Bakugou jumped, red and orange sparks bursting into existence above his palms as he hissed, ready to pulverize whatever the source of his irritation was. He relaxed slightly, enough to deactivate his quirk, which seriously made Jirou loose a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in. The violet-haired girl placed a hand on her hip, heading over to Bakugou, who looked at her like he was considering ripping her face off.
“You know,” Jirou said. “I just love it when I get woken up by sounds made by an angry boy.”
“Did I fucking ask you for your opinion? No!”
Jirou sighed. “I came here because...because I can’t sleep. It’s raining, and I can’t help but think about a certain villain’s quirk. It can cause ghosts to come into the realm of the living and just...do freaky things. Like possessing people. And...well...hey. Wipe that smirk off your face! This totally isn’t funny.”
Bakugou snorted, looking all smug. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. There’s no such thing as ghosts. Everyone knows that, Earphone Jack.”
“Kyouka. You can call me Kyouka.”
Bakugou hissed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever! I don’t give a flying fuck right now about anything but…”
The blonde trailed off upon her putting her arms around his waist, resting her chin against his shoulder blade. Jirou realized her possibly huge mistake after it was too late to take it back. She braced herself for the explosion that was sure to come. Even though she and Bakugou were dating now, the overwhelming fear she had of her boyfriend never truly wavered. From what Uraraka had said about Yaoyorozu, it seemed to be a common thing for new couples. You’re just not used to each other, Uraraka had said one evening while the others were occupied with a training exercise.
Maybe Uraraka was right. Maybe she just wasn’t used to Bakugou’s idiosyncrasies. That’s not what I’m afraid of…. I’m worried that I’ll never be used to him. That this fear will always choke me.
“Katsuki,” Jirou breathed against his neck. “I’m scared. Hold me.”
“Feh...Are you trying to look down on me? Kyouka.”
It was her turn to snort. “No. I would never do such a thing! Ever. I’m thinking we could head back to your room. Maybe watch a movie or...or you could just hold me. Stuff ordinary couples do.”
“I’m plenty ordinary, damn it. Fine. Food’s already ready, anyways. Just let me take it out of the oven.”
Jirou released him, despite the ache that spread like a wildfire within her chest. The longing for his touch that made her body shudder. Bakugou opened the oven, heat rushing from within it, holding a pan of fried treats that made her mouth water. She brought one of her earphone jacks to her lips to stifle a laugh. She still found it odd how...talented her boyfriend was. If one took a simple glance at Bakugou, they would probably think that he was just an ill-mannered douchebag.
Part of that was true, but Jirou had looked past what was on the surface, spotting what Bakugou often didn’t want others to see. It first started during the Sports Festival, when she watched his fight with Uraraka. The awesome display of power had left the rest of her classmates speechless, and the divide between them and Bakugou became extremely clear. Jirou saw past that. She compared Bakugou to a glass rose. Beautiful to the eye and touch, yet dangerous to hold.
“What the fuck are you looking at me like that for?” Bakugou asked after setting the pan on the stove.
Jirou brought her earphone jacks together, glancing at her feet. “N-nothing. You know, I just want to thank you for talking to me. I know that you don’t like...well, socializing. So it’s real sweet of you to not tell me to fuck off.”
Her cheeks burned. Bakugou’s mouth hung open as he blinked. She expected him to yell at her to leave him alone, but instead, she felt strong arms lock around her waist, pulling her against a hard chest. Jirou looked into his red eyes, seeing past all the barriers he normally set up, reaching what she thought as his true self. It was very rare for him to hold her like this, or to allow her to touch him. She realized that the others could walk in at any time, but she quickly found that she didn’t really care too much if that would happen.
“I don’t want you to fuck off.” Bakugou’s breath was warm and smelled of peppermint. “Don’t say crazy shit, Kyouka.”
“Are you okay, Katsuki? Because you’re holding me a little too tight right now. You might just pop my head right off my shoulders.”
Jirou laughed, though the sound lacked heart. She, too, was abrasive in her own way. The other girls in the class often tried to talk to her, but she liked to weasel her way out of conversations that made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. Except for Yaoyorozu. She’d always found Yaoyorozu to be tolerable, more so than the other members of her class, despite the bitter jealousy that often clawed its way through her at the sight of being around her. It was that same jealousy that ended their friendship. Now, Jirou could hardly meet Yaoyorozu’s eyes. Why did she have to always be afraid of letting others in?
“Shut up,” Bakugou said finally. “Why go to my room? Anyone tries to walk in, I’ll blow their fucking face off.”
“There you go again with your threats… Katsuki. I don’t really care what you do. I just don’t want to have to hear that thunder.”
That wasn’t all of the truth, and from the way his red eyes narrowed, she got the sense that he recognized that as the case. He inched his face closer until their lips were a hair’s breadth away from each other.
“Liar,” he hissed. “You’re a goddamn liar. Kyouka. You don’t gotta keep people shut out all the time. Because...that just ain’t what heroes do. And if you’re gonna be my girlfriend, I can’t have you acting like a wimp. I’m gonna be the number one hero. Not shitty Deku, or Half and Half, or Wind Guy. It’ll be me.”
“You want me by your side? Aw, that’s almost kinda cute. Though I want to barf.”
She laughed again. Really, it was just a way of trying to relax her nerves, something to try and prolong the inevitable. Jirou and Bakugou had kissed somewhat rarely, and whenever it did happen, it often had a way of making her heart race. Not from exhilaration, but waves of fear. Thoughts usually flooded her mind, all concerned about where them kissing would lead them. They were both eighteen, now, so she wasn’t concerned with the possibility of sex. It’s just… she couldn’t look at her body in the mirror without wanting to cry. Compared to Uraraka or Ashido, she looked incredibly boyish. Her breasts had grown slightly over the three years she’d been studying at U.A, but they still weren’t very impressive in her opinion.
It didn’t take much to figure out the type of women Bakugou preferred.
“Why do you doubt yourself?” Bakugou said. “That’s ain’t the way to be, dumbass. I’ve seen you train. Your quirk ain’t as good as mine, but it’s not half bad. You work well with others. You’re quick on your damn feet, too. And you always come close to beating Raccoon Eyes in those sparring sessions. So keep your damn chin up. I won’t settle for you or any other girl. So start acting like you’re dating the best.”
Dating the best. Jirou could tell from the way his eyes narrowed that he was done talking. She gasped at the feeling of his teeth grazing her neck, the spot that often turned her into putty in his hands. Damn him. She wanted to tell him that the others would hear them, that it was dirty and inappropriate to do this in a kitchen, but her mind gave way to the lust and pleasure, and all thoughts about being caught soon dissolved within her mind.
“K-Katsuki…”Jirou managed.
He sucked on her neck in response. Jirou dug her nails into his scalp, heart beginning to race. She grew wary of this, where it was heading, and she realized with a start that Bakugou was a healthy eighteen-year-old man. With the way she was being touched right then, how his hands were roving up and down her body, she knew he’d been eager for this for a long time. And she, being her abrasive, self-centered self, hadn’t paid much attention to his own desires.
Selfish. That’s what she was. Horribly, horribly selfish.
Bakugou took her lips next, nibbling on her lower one in a way that led to a swirl of heat surfacing in her crotch, before going for a kiss. His hands mapped out her body, squeezing in places she’d never been touched before, making her sing for him in a way she’d never done before for a man.
The fear spiraled through her, hot and cold at the same time, making her eyes snap open. Even if she’d been touched, even if it felt good, she still felt like there was a wall she could not overcome. With the way things were going, it seemed like they would cross the final boundary she’d set, which involved having sex. It was an effort to think properly after what just happened. Bakugou kept kissing her, squeezing her like some kind of wild beast, so she brought her earphone jack against his shoulder blade. He broke the kiss, panting, glaring at her with those menacing red eyes.
Jirou shut her eyes for a moment. It was better not to look at him, lest she get charmed once more.
“What the hell was that for?” Bakugou asked. “Were you not enjoying it or something?”
“I’m sleepy.” Jirou turned to leave the kitchen.
Bakugou’s hand, quick as an asp, grabbed her wrist. “No. What the fuck was that?”
Jirou aimed her earphone jack at his eye. “I said I’m sleepy, idiot! So just leave it at that.”
Bakugou’s face fell, a very pitiful expression for someone who usually was so arrogant. He released her wrist. That was shocking. Jirou brushed that shock away, exiting the kitchen, hurrying past the television, which she barely noticed was turned off. She would worry about what those implications were later on. For now, she wanted to do nothing more than to curl into a ball and weep. Jirou walked down the hall, creeping past rooms of those she didn’t want to disturb at this hour, and the dam nearly broke at the sight of Bakugou’s room, which she forced herself to pass. She entered her room, plopped onto her bed, and cried.
Part of her realized that she was being silly and childish. Jirou also recognized that her emotions weren’t exactly rational, but she didn’t know what to do about that. She’d always been one to push others away with her attitude, perhaps out of fear that she would be hurt if she didn’t. Kindness directed towards her was often met with aggravation and snarkiness. In a way, that night, Bakugou had shown her more kindness than he’d done so in their two months of dating. And in return, she’d pushed him away, too.
It wasn’t because she didn’t like him touching her. She loved that. It was just, well, she didn’t like the emotions that came with the touching, all the things that made her mind a jumbled mess. Jirou saw herself as being made of glass. One comment about her body would break her for days. That was why, despite the growth she’d had, she could never look at herself in the mirror for very long without an unwanted disgust rising up her throat like bile. Bakugou had touched her that night, and it had felt good. But she didn’t get the sense that he was satisfied with the way her body was.
The inferiority that burned within her like embers was the worst part. No matter what, she would never be as curvaceous as Ashido, well-endowed as Yaoyorozu, or the perfect balance between skinny and chubby like Uraraka. And that was what hurt the most. Because Bakugou’s options would always be open. Sure, the majority of the class had never grown to like him very much, but he was handsome. The fact that he’d picked her should have spoken volumes about how he felt about her, but she couldn’t see that right then. All she could focus on was how disappointed he must have felt right now.
Jirou’s phone buzzed.
Blinking away her tears, she unlocked it to see who had texted her.
It was Bakugou.
A long-winded message that seemed to be an apology. Jirou’s finger hovered above the “delete” button.
Jirou sucked in a breath. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t do it. Instead, she began typing a response. One that she knew he wouldn’t like, but had to be given.