𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐌 | 𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐤𝐮 | 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 | ✓

008

"What are we actually doing out here?" I ask Kacchan as we roam around the mall.

"Shopping, nerd."

"Oh, what are you getting?"

"I'm not getting anything. You are."

"Huh?"

"Your wardrobe fucking sucks. And tomorrow night there's a party. Kirishima will be there, so—"

I cut him off with a sigh. "I know, I know, I need to look good. But seriously, if you college students are always partying, how do you get any time for studying?"

"I don't need to study; I'm fucking great at everything. As for everyone else, their shitty grades aren't my damn problem."

"Careful your head doesn't get any bigger," I mutter.

Kacchan grabs my shoulder and pushes me towards the doors of a designer clothing store. "Okay nerd, listen. Your job is to shut up and try on everything I tell you, no ifs or buts."

"But—"

"I know what I'm doing, okay? If the old hag taught me anything, it's how to dress fucking amazing."

I make a zipped-lip motion, and he begins guiding me to clothing racks. He pulls out random items that are bound to leave a gaping hole in my bank account, holding them up against my body and scrutinising them with an unreadable expression.

I clearly know nothing about fashion — he'll hold up something that I think is cute, but then he'll instantly shake his head at it.

After what feels like hours, he's accumulated a large stack of clothes, looped over his arm.

"Change rooms," he instructs, nodding in their direction.

I follow after him and he leads me to the rooms, pushing back the heavy-fabric curtain to reveal a spacious changing room with double-mirrors. The decor, while not overly-extravagant, appears to be expensive, so I can only imagine how much these clothes will cost me.

Kacchan hangs the clothes he picked on a hook and folds his arms, looking at me expectantly.

"Ah..." I start.

"What?" he demands.

"I... could you wait outside?"

He rolls his eyes all the way to the ceiling, but steps out of the room. Before sliding the curtain shut, he calls, "You're such a prude!"

When he's gone, I sink against the wall of the changing room and exhale heavily. Dealing with all of these feelings... it's so confusing.

"I'm not getting any younger out here!" he hollers.

Oh, yeah, right. I was supposed to be trying on clothes. Hurriedly, I strip and grab the first outfit off the pile. A white collared shirt, soft green sweater, and skinny jeans with frayed hems.

The emerald sweater caresses my skin with its delicate threads; it must be cashmere. The collar of the shirt peeks over the top of my sweater and I notice it's embroidered with tiny flowers — how ironic, given my sickness. The jeans are a perfect fit, managing to hug my waist snugly and fall just to my ankles.

Before I show it off to Kacchan, I check the price tag on the jeans and nearly faint. 16,000 yen?! Sweet baby Jesus.

I pull back the curtains and stand awkwardly as Kacchan stares at me.

"Turn around," he orders. I obey.

"Hmm. Do you like it?"

"Yes," I nod my head vigorously. "They're the nicest things I've ever tried. But... there's no way I can affor—"

"Don't worry about that. Try on the next thing."

I turn back to the change room and try out the next few outfits, showing each on to him for approval.

He was right — he knows what he's doing. Everything he chose looks amazing on me.

"This is the last one," I say as I show off a denim jacket.

"Alright. Get back into your clothes and bring everything out of the room," he instructs. He gives me a final up-and-down look, his eyes flickering over the last outfit I'm wearing, and a funny, warm feeling spreads through my body.

I whip the curtain shut as quick as lightning and clamp my hand over my lips. To have him look at me like that... even if it was just because of the clothes... I splutter into my hands, doing my best to muffle the noise.

I look at the flower petals I coughed up. They're stained with blood. Hands trembling, I crush them up in my palm.

I pick up the bundle of clothes in my arms, stepping out of the change room. Kacchan stands up from the cushy velvet stool he'd been sitting on and starts walking over to the check out.

I'm mentally trying to calculate how much this is going to cost me, and how many years it will take to pay it all back, when Kacchan turns to me.

"You have blood on your lip," he observes.

"W-what?" I say, my voice wavering slightly. I'd hurry to wipe it away but my hands are full with clothes.

"You must've bit it." He lifts a thumb to my face and gently swipes it over the corner of my mouth.

"A-all better?" I barely manage to croak out.

He raises his thumb, tinted with a smudge of my blood, to his own mouth and softly licks it clean. "All better."

My knees have turned into jelly. Possible blood diseases aside, that was... really hot. The way he maintained eye contact while doing it almost seemed sexual.

At the counter, I put the clothes on the sleek bench top and wait anxiously as the cashier rings up our total.

The six-figure number makes my head swim, but Kacchan leans his elbows on the counter top and instructs the cashier, "Tell Mom I'm fixing a friend's fashion crisis."

"Yes, of course, Bakugo-san."

Kacchan picks up the fancy paper shopping bags with the store's logo embezzled on them and hands two of them to me. "I told you, don't stress about the price, nerd."

"What— why— h—"

"I'm surprised you didn't make the connection earlier... but then again, you're really dumb. My mother is Mitsuki Bakugo. This is her store."

"Mitsu... Oh my gosh, you're her son?! She's, like, one of Japan's top fashion designers!"

"No shit," he rolls his eyes as we walk out of the store. "I get heaps of stuff free, so no charge to you."

"Wow! That's so cool!"

He looks a little fluster at my enthusiasm, but he shrugs it off quickly. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I couldn't be seen walking with you when you're looking like a fucking fashion crime from 2014 Tumblr."

I ignore the dig and give him a huge mega-watt grin. "Thanks, Kacchan!"