❝ 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 . ❞ [ Katsuki Bakugo x reader ]

11

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽,

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳-𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆...

The phone rang once, twice, then the call was answered.

"Is everything alright, (Y/n)?" Shota asked on the other line. You did not often call him so out of the blue, so instances like these shot instant worry through him. Especially after what happened to you a few days ago.

"Yeah, the hospital just released me," You assured him with a sigh. "But, uh, I've got nowhere to go. Now that Hiroto knows where I live, it's not safe to go back." You heard Shota hum as he took a moment to think.

"I'm still teaching right now, but you're welcome to stay at my place across town," Shota offered generously. "There should be a spare key on the top of the doorframe of the apartment next to mine. I'll send you the address."

"Thank you," You told him genuinely. "I won't stay for long, promise."

"Then I'll see you when I get home." You then hung up, tucking your phone into your back pocket. You took a deep breath, the fresh air filling your sore lungs. You stood on the sidewalk outside of the hospital. You tucked your hands inside your pockets.

After you had woken up, Shota had taken it upon himself to retrieve for you a change of clothes, some shoes, etc. Your apartment was once again a crime scene and it appeared this time unlivable for good.

As you walked in the direction of Shota's home, you felt a lingering pain across your body. It was particularly painful in your chest and your lower abdomen. These injuries were going to last. You had not thought much about the lasting impacts of your fights when you were younger. 

But now, with every step you took, you were reminded of what had been done to you. Perhaps your body was getting too old to sustain your old lifestyle. If you were going to keep taking such injuries, you would die much younger than most. Maybe it was time to consider a new line of work.

Not that you had much of a choice anyway. The criminal underworld knew you were a traitor. You could not go back even if you wanted to. And chances are, your criminal record would prevent you from finally getting a hero's license, but there could be a chance.

You looked over your shoulder. Each alley you passed made you tense and quickly glance out into the darkness. You constantly felt as if someone was watching you. You looked to every rooftop, peered around every corner, all the while your pace not slowing. That paranoia was going to drive you mad.

You reached the building Shota lived in. It was certainly in a much better state than the one you had previously called home. You found his door and consequently, the door next to his. You ran your fingers across the top of the doorframe, causing a little key to fall to the floor. You scooped it up and unlocked the door.

Quickly, you saw how modestly Shota lived. Perhaps modest was an understatement. You shut the door behind you and locked it. Cautiously, you close the curtains when you found they were already locked. There was a sofa in the living room that faced an old TV. There was a small bookshelf against the wall, filled with titles you did not recognize. There was little to nothing in the kitchen, only the essentials to cook with.

You sat down on the sofa with a heavy sigh. Then, it was silent. Shota's walls were not as thin as yours. You could not hear the neighbors arguing next door, nor the city streets below the building. You could hear your own thoughts too clearly.

It hit you hard, harder than you had expected. There was truly nowhere left to run now. The criminal underworld hated you. To them, you were a traitor. You could not go back to your old life even if you wanted to. You did not want to. So why did this revelation feel so... miserable?

Perhaps it was because you were now forced down a path, there was no longer a choice between the two worlds. You had no choice but to continue to cooperate with the heroes, even if they hated you too. No one wants you around, huh? This feeling of alone that sank into you felt familiar.

Your eyes burned. Each inhale you took was as shaky as the exhale that followed. You propped your elbows up on your thighs as you leaned forward to rest your face in your palms. The skin of your hands grew wet with every tear that fell from your eyes. Why you were crying, you could not justify. Too caught up in your breakdown, you did not notice the sound of keys in the front door.

Suddenly, you felt someone place their hand on your shoulder softly. You did not look up at him, you had no desire for your probation officer to see you in such a pathetic state. When you did not respond, Shota sat down beside you. He was unsure what had caused you to become so upset, but he was sure there must be something he could do to help.

Maybe you were not completely alone. You had Katsuki and it seemed you had Shota too. He was trustworthy and it felt as if he cared. Your own insecurity nagged at you, though. Why? You sniffed, swallowing the lump in your dry throat. You wiped your eyes roughly, still hanging your head. In a low voice, you asked,

"Why did you volunteer to be my probation officer?"

𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳...