❝ 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 . ❞ [ Katsuki Bakugo x reader ]

12

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝚆𝙴𝙻𝚅𝙴,

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙳-𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙽𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝚅𝙸𝙴𝚆...

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

Shota was not sure how to answer your question. It was one he had not considered himself. Nezu had approached all of the teachers about taking on the responsibility. Shota had taken a moment to think before he agreed, but only about how it would fit into his schedule. His first instinct was yes and he did not ask himself why. But, he had a bit of an idea.

"I, uh, I felt guilty," Shota admitted, his gaze shifting to land on the floor. "Over an--an old friend." You glanced up at him, surprised by his answer. "We were close, losing him was... Well, I'm sure you know the feeling. I couldn't save him. So I felt like I had to try and save you." You let your hands fall from your tear-stained face. You saw the expression on his face, one worn by trauma and exhaustion.

"You don't need to save me," You said quietly. "The kid did that already." Shota hummed, knowing it was true. Funny how someone who behaved so brash and hot-headed could do so much good for someone. Perhaps you would have saved any kid if they were kidnapped by The League of Villains, but Katsuki was the only one who could have brought you this far.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Shota wondered aloud, breaking the prolonged silence. You sniffled again, sitting up somewhat straight. You nodded your head, deciding that you were done crying. Shota watched you try to regain your composure.

"The school never told us you disappeared," Shota recalled somewhat mournful. "They tried to bury it, the press didn't even find out... But what happened that night?" You let out a bitter laugh. It was getting easier to talk about what had occurred, but it still made you uncomfortable. Regardless, you did not protest.

"I was sent after what we thought was a low-level criminal," You began with a small sigh, "but our intel was wrong. It was an A-rank villain, I didn't stand a chance." You flexed your fingers. "He, uh... he laughed as he beat the shit out of me. He should have killed me." You shook your head. "I think I only lived because of my quirk. I was passed out in an old warehouse for days, just waiting to die. But I didn't."

You were starting to realize that was not all of the story. Your therapist made you connect a few dots. You swallowed thickly, fidgeting with your hands nervously.

"I guess I was--I guess when I found out people assumed I was dead, I was... relieved," You confessed. "There was more to that night than the police reports will tell ya. I guess a part of me wanted him to kill me. I wanted it to be over, but I've never had the guts to pull the trigger myself."

Shota's eyebrows raised in shock. He could see the pain written across your face. Your words were not to be taken lightly, there had been a time in your life when you wanted to die. He could not imagine what that kind of suffering felt like. The terrible things you had been through no doubt contributed to the lifestyle you had selected.

Shota almost felt honored that you trusted him with such a personal detail. He knew it must have been hard for you to talk about. The man, though all too familiar with trauma, was not entirely sure how to comfort you. His natural inclination was to try and help, provide you with some sort of solace.

You felt the sofa shift under you as if someone was leaning in. Then, you felt him wrap his arms around you. He pulled you closer, resting his chin atop your head. Contrary to the kind of first impression he gives, Shota was a genuinely kind person.

Tears rushed to pour out of your eyes as you broke out into a sob. Maybe it was the painkillers they gave you at the hospital that caused you to be so emotional. Or maybe that was just what happened when you tried to pretend like you had no emotions. It was only a matter of time before all those buried down feelings resurface in an ugly sob.

You leaned into Shota's embrace as he held on to your trembling body. He did not say anything, he just let you cry. You did not know how long you both sat there and Shota had not kept track either. Sometimes you just need to let it all out.

"It's getting late," Shota spoke softly, his arms loosening. "Let's get you to bed." You dried your eyes with your sleeve and let Shota pull you off the sofa. He guided your weary self down the hall and into his bedroom. It was just as minimal and empty as the rest of the house.

You slipped off your jacket and shoes and climbed into the small bed, slightly surprised he even owned a bed.

"Do you need anything else?" Shota asked. You shook your head. It was clear you were still recovering from your breakdown. He could not blame you either. He had experienced nights like those before and all alone no less. He turned to leave and made it all the way to the doorway, but he then heard you finally speak up,

"Actually, can you... " You hesitated for fear of appearing childish and pathetic. "Can you stay?" Shota thought for a moment and then let out a sigh. He walked back into the room and closed the door behind him. You turned away as he got himself ready to sleep. The last thing you wanted was to violate the privacy of someone who has been so kind to you.

He laid down next to you in his bed. You gave each other an appropriate amount of space, relative to what you had to work with.

"Tomorrow we'll start hunting down Hiroto and his men," Shota promised, his eyes falling closed. Your eyes remained open for a bit longer, observing him. You had not taken the time to look at him before. His dark and messy locks looked soft but unwashed. You wondered why he kept the long hair, short hair would be easier to care for.

His face was well-defined, aged by the stress of his responsibilities. His sharp jawline was dusted with scruffy facial hair that suited him perfectly. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch it, curious as to what that particular scratch would feel like.

His narrow eyes rested shut, prominent bags residing under them. Often, his eyes reminded you of your own. Sometimes, very rarely, you would catch a glimmer flicker in his ebony irises. Playfully sarcastic or pitiful anguish, it was hardly anything in between.

He was handsome. He really was.

"Stop staring at me and go to sleep, (Y/n)," Shota said in irritation, his eyes still closed. You let out a small laugh.

"Sorry."

𝚃𝙾 𝙱𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳...