Kacchako Drabbles For The Soul

Make Me Feel

"You? Why would you like me? No girls like me." His tone comes off cockily, though his words were admittedly kind of sad. Not that he'd ever say that.

Uraraka doesn't seem to notice or care, her cheeks only flushing pinker under his vermillion gaze.

"I don't know why I like you!" She huffs. "I just do." The girl pauses for a moment, biting her lips in deep thought before looking up at him and asking, "So... what do you think?"

And he's kind of mortified.

Not because it's Round Face, in all honesty, she's probably the only person he could ever see himself with, but because this never happens.

Ever.

What the hell is he supposed to do?

His eyebrows are creased in shock/disgust/horror, and his eyes are wide with wild confusion.

And he should probably say something.

Letting out a small, disgustingly fake cough, the blond averts his gaze and slumps into the metal bench behind him.

"I dunno." He grunts, absolutely detesting the way that his cheeks have to be glowing pink with the heat in his face. "-This has never happened before."

She gapes at him with wide eyes.

"Really?"

Bakugo, pushing aside the awkwardness of this situation and finding her eyes in a spiteful glare, barks out: "What did I just say!?"

At that she lets out a startled 'eep!' before blinking and nodding furiously. "Yeah! Right. Sorry." She says hurriedly, waving her hands around excessively.

She's mumbling apologies as she laughs nervously, the shock of her confession still weighing heavily on them both.

The poor girl was a mess.

Great. He broke her.

Let out a grumble of discomfort at the way her eyebrows wrinkle in distress, the blond shifts on the bench and sighs.

"Don't say sorry, stupid. Just move on."

And though he's just given her solid advice, something that he never did for anyone, all that Uraraka got out of the quick interaction was that Bakugo had shifted on the bench.

Just enough for her to fit.

So she sits.

And now she is sitting next to him, blinking like an idiot, and he is feeling things.

Things he's never really even tried to feel before. And he hates that he's not even trying now.

It's just... happening.

She's looking at him and his palms are sweating more than usual.

Her knee touches his and his fucking heart stutters.

Her hair blows in the autumn wind and he wants to touch it.

He's not even trying. 

Deciding that he does not like these feelings, at least not when he's still trying to process her feelings, Bakugo looks away from the culprit herself, deciding that he should change the subject entirely and maybe- just maybe forget about her clumsy confession.

Taking in a deep breath, he looks out into the courtyard and sighs.

"Why do you like me?"

Well.