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frekydeki · 1 year

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Birds of a Feather | Pt. 2

A/n | at this point I shouldn't even be surprised with myself for taking so long to get this second part done. For some reason I struggled so hard getting from point a to point b.

Pairing | (ex)Midoriya x Reader | Bakugo x Reader

Warnings | Lots of cursing.

Summary | In which Midoriya is the love of your life, but you’re not his. In this, you navigate the stormy waters of heartbreak, and at the eye of the storm, you find Bakugo… But you know what they say: birds of a feather flock together.

Masterlist

| Part 1 |✨Part 2 ✨| Part 3: In progress

You’re running. There’s something biting at your heels; cold, looming, crushing. Your legs ache, and each step you take feels like you're wading through rushing water. A straight hallway with ugly grey wallpaper and water staining stretches out endlessly before you. Uneven floorboards that creak with each step and groan with the swaying walls. Old wooden doors are evenly spaced along the walls. You tried a few but found them all locked. The feeling of the icy water against your legs is rising higher, almost to your waist; yet there’s no water in sight.

God, you want to scream, but you can hardly bring in enough air to keep yourself upright. Pressure in your chest and tears clouding your eyes, you struggle to keep your footing against the swaying floorboards. There’s a pinch in your ankle, and suddenly you’re blinking at the deep grooves in the floorboards. What are you running from?

Doesn’t matter. You need to go. You try and push yourself up, legs scrambling to right yourself. Your body goes stiff as you’re consumed by a biting coldness, and slammed against the ground.

You can’t breathe. A single gasp for air, and you can feel your lungs filling with that same iciness. You’ve felt this before. Pulled under the waves at the beach on a family vacation; this horror, the burn… It’s the same. You’re drowning in the middle of a hallway with no water in sight.

Your fingers scratch against the floorboards, and you strain to look up, your gaze becoming fuzzy. Surrounded by light, you see a black figure… A person? Someone, running to you. Your mouth snaps shut. If you could just get the words out, maybe they’ll be able to save you…

Save you from what?

Your vision grows fuzzy, then dark, and your head falls with a harsh thunk on the floor.

You grunt as your fingers run over the cool wood floor. You feel the soft touch of a fuzzy rug and crack your eyes open as the sound of a door creaking open reaches your ears. The white ceiling above you has squares of pink and orange light cast across it from the window, and your sight is blocked by a familiar face craning over you.

“You okay?” You blink at him, ruby eyes steadily keeping your own confused gaze. “Did you hit your head?” He kneels down and waves his hand over your face, “Anyone home in there?” Swatting his hand away, you push yourself up and cradle your head as it begins throbbing.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” He scoffs and then offers a cup of water; it’s in your favorite mug, one of the two that were hanging next to the coffee machine. There’s only one hanging there now. You turn your eyes away and mumble no thanks. “You invited me to stay, dumbass.” Turning your eyes over the room, the suffocating memory of crying yourself to sleep – strangling your sobs with your pillow so Bakugo could sleep properly – rushes back to you. You can only manage to hum back to him in response. You play with the sleeve of your shirt before mumbling the first thing that came to your mind to direct his attention from your dulling gaze.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Once you finally shut up, yeah.”

“I thought you were already asleep!” You squeak. “You were snoring when I left.”

“Just cause I was snoring doesn’t mean I wouldn’t wake back up to you wailing in here…” Shoving the cup of water in your hand, he moves himself to the doorway and gazes down at you. “How’re you feeling?” Your nose scrunches and your eyes narrow.

“Who are you?” He frowns at you.

“Don’t.” The word comes out softly as he crosses his arms.

“What have you done with Bakugo?”

“Y/n, don’t.” His mouth lifts a little and the corners of his lips bury in his cheek. His eyes soften and almost take on a warm glimmer. “Let’s be adults for like ten seconds; are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You quietly say, tapping your fingers against the glass and staring at the ripples. “You?” It’s quiet.

“I’m hungry.”

“How?” Your stomach rolls and you swallow thickly.

“I didn’t get shit faced. Get dressed. Let’s go to the store, I’ll make breakfast.”

“Why do I have to go?” You whine.

“Cause I’m wearing fuckin’ Garfield pajama pants!” He gestures to his pants; you hadn’t noticed. You blink and then scoff.

“You went to the bar in them last night! What’s so different now?” You quip back. He grunts and turns on his heel, shoves his hands into his pockets, and stiffly walks down the hallway mumbling profanities under his breath.

Heaving out a sigh, you pull on a sweatshirt over your t-shirt, and straighten out your sweatpants. You couldn’t let him go alone, especially if the only thing he escaped last night with was a pair of pajama pants… Can’t he just starve like everyone else who’s going through a hard breakup? You don’t even feel like being awake, let alone going to the damn grocery.

“I’ll go.” He finishes tying his shoes and grabs his keys before meeting your eye.

“Thanks.”

You leave the house with a small piece of paper scribbled with Bakugo’s sharp writing tight in your hand; the list is small… It’s easy enough.

Hand closing on the carton of eggs, you cast your eye to the two women on your left. You examine the eggs in your hand for cracks, but also consider the sneer placed on that ladies lips, amplified by the bubblegum pink lipstick painted on them. Usually, you don’t mind what other people have to say about you, but you expect them to not make it obvious they’re gawking at you… These ladies are definitely not considering the assortment of cheeses displayed in front of them. One with curly, short brown hair and deep lines under her eyes looks you up and down while her friend scrolls on her phone and casts piercing glances at you. You meet their eyes evenly before you take notice of the man across you shooting daggers. Heat spreads through your gut. You try and iron out your expression but bite the inside of your cheek.

Do you have something on your face? You lightly run your fingers over the corners of your mouth, push your hair from your face, and pat it down. It leaves your stomach a little heavier than before, and you’re grateful that you only have one thing left on the list. Some people don’t look at you while you pick out bread, but a young couple down the aisle point and whisper. You can’t make out anything they’re saying. You start toward them, set to keep moving past them, but then you meet their eye, and the words are suddenly pouring from your mouth:

“It’s so sad to see adults acting like children.” You look to the keys clenched in her hand, adorned with a keychain that says ‘#MomLife’; it actually makes your eye twitch. “I’m nervous for your kids.” You march away to the check-out.

You’re not sure why so many people in the store shot you looks like you were their high school best friend that stabbed them in the back, but you’re grateful that the clerk didn’t. All you have to do is pay and then you're out of here; no more weird glances, no more grannies mumbling to their son in the checkout lane about you. Your chest tightens and throat constricts. You can’t make out all of the words, but as you collect your bags, you hear her whisper:

“They’re dispicable.”

You flinch at the words and hurry from the store. What does she mean? Why would she say that? How the hell does she even know you? You grab for the car door and smack your lips when you find it locked. Bakugo spares you a glance from his phone and unlocks the door.

“Got it all?” He asks as he looks back to his phone, finishing a very long text with his lips pulled down into a thin frown. You nod, run your hands over your sweats, and turn your gaze back to the grocery store doors, flooded with people going in and out. You think of every eye that was on you, and wonder what would happen if you walked back in. Would they all stare at you like that again? Maybe you have something on your clothes? You pat yourself down, but – aside from a badly coordinated outfit – nothing is amiss. You flip down the mirror to double check your face for awkwardly placed drool.

Just paled skin and your sad eyes staring back. You freeze up as your stomach rolls. Sucking in a deep breath, you push the mirror back up and turn your eyes away again. Bakugo watches you with pinched brows.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” You answer, running your hands over your pants again.

“I don’t like liars.”

“Who does?” You scoff back, keeping your eyes on anything except his eyes that you feel drilling into you from the driver’s seat. Of all the things you find wonderful about Bakugo, his intense gaze has never been it. It’s like he has laser vision, peering right into you to read your mind like a children’s book.

“So don’t lie to me.”

“’Kay.” He doesn’t move to start driving. “What does it matter?” You snap, sending him a glare, but it quickly fizzles out as you meet his eye. Your eyes fall to your hands. “Can we go home?”

“Fine.” Bakugo grumbles at you under his breath for a minute. Your eyes flutter shut, and you rub your eyes.

“Did he message you?” He asks through the silence that's fallen between the two of you.

“No.”

“Look, can ya just tell me?”

“When you go out in public, do people look at you like you’re less than shit?”

“What? No! Did-“ Bakugo glances between you and the road, “Did someone do something to you in the store?”

“Nothing happened-“

“You can’t say nothing happened! Look at you! What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing, Bakugo. Everyone in there… They were just giving me weird looks.” You shake your head. “Maybe I was being crazy.” But that doesn’t explain the whispering. “When I was in line… The women behind me was whispering with her son and said ‘They’re dispicable’. And she was looking directly at me… Could I have heard them wrong? I don’t even know who they are!” He’s silent for a beat.

“What a bitch!” He blurts randomly. “Who just fuckin says that about someone they don’t know?” His hands grip the steering wheel tightly and he speeds up.

“Is my outfit that bad?” You wonder with a dry chuckle.

“No worse than mine.” His gray pajama pants with Garfield eating lasagna and a plain red t-shirt puts a small smile on your lips.

“I can understand why she said it if that’s the case.”

The rest of your drive passes in silence. He stops his car near the building instead of parking; you send him a confused look.

“Whatcha doin?”

“Dropping you off. I have to make a phone call really quick. Head on in and clean yourself up. I’ll be up in a few.” You watch him and nod. Taking up the few bags of groceries, you wave him off. When did he get so nice? Maybe he’s always been this nice, just not to you. He must've bagged it all up and gave it to Uraraka this whole time.

What a waste. It puts a bad taste in your mouth, so you swallow it and put the groceries away. You’re a little grateful for the silence in your apartment – even if it’s short lived – and decide a hot shower should put you right. You grab your comfiest clothes and head to the bathroom. You avoid looking at the mirror, light a candle, and flick the light off; the stupid vent turns on with the light, and you don’t feel like hearing all of that right now. You want a nice, hot, quiet shower.

You stand in the shower, still as a statue, watching your skin become irritated under the water. Emotions pile up on you like dirt and sweat, and you’ve not given much thought to how disgusting you’ve felt. The feeling of the water stream pelting on the back of your head, almost blocking every sound from the outside world, lulls you into a mindless state. You forget yourself as you stand swaying in the shower with shut eyes. Before you know it, it’s been ten minutes and the front door of your apartment is slamming shut. You almost felt the floor shake from how hard the door was slammed, and it makes your stomach tumble right back down into hell.

You scrub up quickly, dry and dress, then head out to the kitchen to see what the deal is. Bakugo is fast at work. His broad shoulders are visibly tense, and the longer you watch him, the more you notice how stiffly he’s moving, how hard he’s slamming the knife down onto the cutting board, and his uneven, heavy breaths.

“You okay?” You’re tired of hearing that sentence; it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but you’ve heard it enough. Bakugo’s hands slow before he continues working away, switching between checking the food cooking on the stove and dicing vegetables. At his silence, you shrug and brew some coffee. “I feel better after the shower. You should take one, I’ll clean up after we eat.” He grunts back at you. “I have some big shirts I can let you borrow… I might be able to find a pair of sweats that’ll fit you somewhere…” You fill the silence with idle chatter, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and offer to pour him some.

“More of a juice guy.”

“Interesting.” You say. You snatch up the orange juice and pour him a glass.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Your chest lightens as he seems to come back into himself a little bit, and you shrug.

“Dunno… Figured you for a bitter drink man. You know, macho man, no one can see you eating anything sweet.” You set the table as he lays out the collection of small dishes he’s put together. “It’s amazing that you managed to put this together from the random assortment of shit in my fridge.”

“Yeah, just don’t go telling everybody I made ya breakfast.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t fit the image.”

“And drinking juice does?” He sits in the seat across from you with a hard look but a lift in his lip. “Anyways, what’s image got to do with being able to cook? Is it a bad thing that you can put together a great meal? Does it make you less of a man? Less of a hero?”

“No.” He curtly responds. “I just don’t want the entire world to know me.”

“Well, that doesn’t make much sense considering your life’s dream.”

“Being number one hero is… Not being a celebrity with tabloid articles being written about every little fucking thing that I do. The littlest shit is fucking gold to those leeches. An accountant goes out to get drinks with his buddies, he just went out to get drinks with his buddies… But me? I go out to get drinks with my buddies and then suddenly I’m a fucking drunk, an alcoholic who went out on a rager and pissed on some grannies lawn ornaments.” You watch him somehow eat his food angrily. Blinking at him, you sit your utensils down, and try to meet his eye.

“Bakugo… What is it?” He stops when you finally catch his eye. “Something is bothering you. You can tell me.” Bakugo tears his ruby eyes away, blinking quickly.

“When you said that people were giving you weird looks in the store… Saying shit like that… I thought, there’s no reason anyone would know who you are.” He pauses, then adds, “No offense.”

“None taken. It’s true.” People – as far as they know – know you’re in a relationship with Midoriya, but you’ve never been one to attend the galas or walking the carpet; the events scared you. Paparazzi never paid you much mind.

“Midoriya tried to keep you from that. So… I had my secretary do a little digging…” Your heart flips in your chest like a fish out of water; you know where this is going, but you’re hoping to whatever god is listening that you’re wrong. Maybe, by some dumb luck, that you’re completely wrong. Bakugo unlocks his phone and drops it on the table, spinning it toward you. Pointing at the screen, he continues, “Published last night. The prick must've been up all night drooling over his laptop.”

“Dynamite enjoys late night fling?” The words almost taste like poison in your mouth. It’s a weak article of four, single sentence paragraphs accompanied by one dark and grainy photo. But anyone who knew Bakugo could recognize the spikey blond hair. Anyone who knows you would see your drunken face or recognize your apartment building. Your breath shutters from you, and you swallow. “Bakugo.” His name is the only thing you can squeeze out. This is bad. This is really bad.

Not just for you, but for him. Especially for him. He has an image to maintain, but if the world thinks he’s the type of man to have a fling with his best friend’s partner… He could lose everything. His lips somehow pull themselves farther down, and his brows fall slack.

“Bakugo, this… This…” He nods slowly.

“I know.”

“This is bad.” Now everyone is going to think you cheated. That it’s your fault things are like this. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Tears bubble into your eyes - what can you say, you're a crybaby for the week - while you try and force out a coherent sentence. The more you try, though, the more muddied your words become. Your heart clenches in your chest, “That’s not true. What do we do?” You heave in a breath, trying to keep your eyes on Bakugo’s worrying expression, but you look back to the photo, “It’s published on Super Gossip.”

Bakugo nods, “Yeah, we’re trying to find who took the picture.”

“It’s midafternoon, Bakugo.” Your lip quivers, “Half the fucking world has seen this already.” You watch his eyes shut as he lets out a heavy breath, and he worries his lip with his teeth.

“I know.” He sighs and roughly rubs his hand over his face, “Best we can do is damage control.” Super Gossip is only the most useless, brain-dead, flaming piece of crap hero gossip magazine in the world. A lot of people read this magazine like the damn bible. You know for a fact that Midoriya has seen this article. Which means he knows that Bakugo went home with you last night. What does he think you did last night? Is he thinking what everyone else is? That you had a late-night fling with him just to get back at Midoriya? Where does Uraraka stand on this?

Your insides are on fire, and somehow, you feel small. You want to cover up all your windows and check outside for some creep camped among the bushes; you didn’t even see anyone in the parking lot when you both got home last night… Violated. You feel violated. Your arms wrap around your quaking body, and you glance to the open kitchen window.

How long were they camped outside of your apartment? Waiting and watching your window for the slightest movement? You heave in a breath and snap your gaze over to Bakugo; you're grateful that at least you had Dynamite sleeping on your couch, it gives you some sort of comfort.

“What do we do?” You repeat. “My reputation doesn’t matter much, I’m just a florist and no one really knows my name unless they dig. But you-“

“They’ll dig.” Bakugo is watching you carefully. A look in his eye, just below his furrowed brow, that tells you he doesn’t want to scare you, but he can’t lie. “They will dig up things you don’t want them to know, and before you know it, you’ll be on the front pages until we make it clear what’s going on.”

“Oh, yeah. Easy enough.” You push your food away; your appetite slunk out the door as soon as you read the article. “I’ll just let them know that the number one hero who I’ve spent four years worshipping the ground he walked on left me for the girl he had a crush on in high school – who happened to be your fiancé – and in my drunk rantings I asked you to stay with me. It’s all just one big misunderstanding… Yeah, let’s just throw this pile of steaming shit on Uraraka and Midoriya’s reputation.” You spit out in a panic. If you just went out there and told the media the truth the fingers would start pointing at Midoriya. That’s if they even believe you – a nobody who grows flowers for a living – over their golden boy Deku.

“It’s the truth.” Bakugo reasons. “I’m not gonna just let these little ants sit there and spread lies like this.”

“They’ll eat Midoriya alive.”

“What do you care?” He snaps at you, stands from his place at the table, and snatches his phone up. “That asshole is the reason we’re all here.” “Uraraka had a hand in it too, Bakugo. They’ll dig into her too.” Your voice is low as you stand from your seat and put yourself in the doorway of the kitchen; he’s started to clean up the barely touched breakfast.

“And they’ll get what they deserve. They did this. I’m not just gonna sit around and let my career suffer for them.” You open your mouth to reason, “If they cared about their reputation, they wouldn’t have gone behind our backs like that.”

“So, what? You’re gonna call the author up and ask him to coffee?” Bakugo stares at you blankly before nodding.

“Yeah. I am.” You stand in silence, watching Bakugo until you near him and start to help pack the leftovers away.

“Super Gossip will take everything you say and twist it into something you never said. Maybe you should talk to your manager first?” He shakes his head while putting the last of the food in the fridge. He takes up his phone.

“No. I’m telling this asshole he’s an idiot and he’s pointing his finger at the wrong people.” His gaze is sharp as he stares at you – you know that anger is not for you, but it makes your heart flip to see it in his eyes – before he begins dialing a phone number.

“Okay, okay… Look, maybe we need to call Midoriya and Uraraka before we do this?” You reason, pulling his phone from his ear.

“You’re asking me to ask him for permission?” Under his suffocating crimson gaze, you feel your shoulders sag, just a little bit, but you keep your eyes locked on his. “To tell the truth?”

“Not permission, Bakugo. Just because Midoriya acted like a piece of shit, doesn’t mean we should too.”

“How is this,” He sends a glance to his ringing phone, “shitty?” His eyes narrow at you.

“If we’re going to the press, we need to consider what we say and do. We don’t need to ruin their reputation like this.”

“Ruining their reputation is shitty? Y/n, you’re kidding me!” He rounds the table to near you, bending slightly to match your height, “You have to be kidding me! They cheated. They fucking cheated on us and now we have a gossip article written about us?” His raised voice falls, “You think we’re the shitty ones?” You tap the screen to end the call.

“We’re not shitty. But what will pointing our fingers back do?” He shakes his head and continues.

“This is not shitty.” He waves the phone between the two of you. “You know what is shitty, Y/n? Sleeping with your best friends fiancé.” His voice begins raising, “Showing up to my house in the middle of the night with a few boxes and crying ‘Oh, Y/n left me. Let me stay best friend,’ is shitty. Smiling in my face, eating at my table, sleeping in one of my beds, and then fucking my fiancé while I’m trying to sleep?” His eyes have become irritated with tears, and they bunch up on his bottom lid. You’ve drawn back, gawking at him with your mouth opening and closing. "That's shitty, Y/n. Not this. Not me."

“Is that how you found out, Bakugo?” You whisper. His chest is rising and falling with heavy, frantic breaths, and you can see his hands shaking as he tries to keep control of himself.

“I wanted a glass of water.” His voice was so quiet compared to what it just was. A bitter smile pushes over his lips as he turns away from you and walks into the dark living room. “It’s all just a fucking joke.” Bakugo throws his phone onto the coffee table and his hands find purchase in his sandy blond locks. “It’s just a sick joke, Y/n.” You swallow, your lips quivering and stomach twisting. You saw Bakugo like this last night, and you don’t find it any easier to see now. With a deep breath, you sit on the opposite side of the couch.

You’d like to comfort Bakugo, but you're reeling in a storm of new emotions and thoughts you didn’t have last night. Finding out how Bakugo discovered all of this out; he probably didn’t even see it coming. Your heart is caving in for him. Also learning that even though Midoriya swore he was telling you the truth; he was still lying to your face. You’re considering every time that he pulled away from your touch, seemed to be so uncomfortable with even the slightest display of affection. It feels like your chest may burst if you don’t ask Bakugo the question bouncing around your head; how long had their relationship been physical?

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can manage. You’ve not got much in your cup. Hell, your cup is dry as a desert right now.

“So let me make the call.” He pleads, head rolling to look at you. “Look,” Bakugo breaks the silence again, leaning forward with his elbows rested on his knees, “It’s not like I am happy to throw them both under the wheel like this… But I won’t lose my job for this.” His eyes are set, and his lips in a thin line. When this look crosses Bakugo’s eye, you know better than to try and change his mind. You sigh.

“Even if you do call them, why would they believe you?” He draws back. “Anyone accused of being a cheat would have a story lined up just like this. You do this and it’ll just look like you’re pointing a finger away from you.” He’s quiet, for once. You’re a little surprised. “If we call up Midoriya and Uraraka, explain the situation, and ask them to set things straight, we might be able to settle this issue without any problems.”

“You think they’re gonna want to admit what they did to the world?” You shrug.

“I don’t know.” Bakugo rolls his head and rubs the back of his neck. You can tell he’s not too happy with the situation, but you can’t think of a better solution. “But on the off chance that Midoriya will do it, I think we should at least try.”

“Alright, but you call him. And if he refuses the first thing I’m going to do after I kick his ass is call this magazine up and air all of his dirty underwear.” He levels you with a stern look, “All of it.”

“At that point, Bakugo, I wouldn’t stop you.” A ghost of a smile pushes onto your lips. “I’ll get my phone.” It’s great that he is listening to you right now and all… But you never thought that you’d be the one calling those two; it just didn’t cross your mind. It makes your legs heavy as lead as you trudge back to your room. It’s the last thing you want to do. Staring at your phone on your bed like you’re superman and it’s kryptonite, you start to wonder if it really would be so bad to just let Bakugo make that call. Midoriya is the piece of shit that, after taking up five years of your life, fucked the woman that he said was just his friend and lied to you about it twice.

You take up your phone and head out to the living room anyways. Your skin has paled, and you give Bakugo a sideways glance; he’s onto you like white on rice.

“If you don’t want to make that call I can just-“ You raise your hand to him and click your tongue.

“Ah, ah!” You level him with a strong, yet watery-eyed look, and say, “A good friend wouldn’t tempt an alcoholic with a bottle; don’t give me an out.” He surrenders his hands.

“Suit yourself. Personally, I’d let those two rot.”

“I’m not doing this because I care about what happens to them,” That’s a lie and you both know it; Bakugo gives you a flat expression, “It’s because I’m a reasonable adult who wants to handle this so we can all make it out unscathed.” Your voice and fingers are trembling as you type in his phone number. Your throat tightens up when his contact pulls up… You haven’t changed his contact name yet, so it still has that stupid heart and the nickname you gave him long ago; and that stupid picture of him too. It has your lungs burning and tightening for more air.

Are you ready to hear his voice? Your body feels like it’s being torn apart; one end being pulled by excitement, longing to see him and hear him again, and the other being pulled to hell with rage, betrayal, and disgust. What will you even say? What if you stumble over your words? You know you will as soon as you hear him say hello; everything you have scripted out will fly from your head just like it did last night. Your heart is racing, and it feels like there’s syrup running through your veins instead of blood. It hurts. And it won’t stop until you just call him.

You clench your jaw; you just have to call him.

“Y/n? You okay?” Bakugo’s voice butts in like he’s calling you from the end of a tunnel. Your eyes are wide and unblinking on the phone screen as you nod and hum back to him. No, you’re not okay… Why are you saying you’re okay? You feel like your about to throw up your heart and the world might break in half.

Midoriya can’t know that though, so you take a few deep breaths and repeat over and over, “I’m okay.” You say it until your voice doesn’t crack, doesn’t waver, and isn’t thick with tears. You dial his number and bring the phone to your ear. Fingers tap your knees as you wait, and you can feel Bakugo’s eyes burning holes into the side of your head. Maybe he won’t answer – the thought makes you feel a little giddy – and you’ll be able to say you tried calling him when he's the one with an article written about him.

“Y/n?” You almost black out when you hear his voice come through the phone. So soft, shaking, like he thinks he could kill you with just one word. You’re sure he could do just that, and it scares you a little. “Hello? Y/n?”

“Yeah... Midoriya…” You’re quiet, and you look down as you begin to play with the hem of the shirt you’re wearing. “Listen… You’ve…” You let out a heavy sigh. “You’ve seen the article?” The line is quiet, and you're left standing on pins and needles waiting for him to respond.

“We saw it.” You nod; you knew that… God, what must he think of you? Why are you even worried about that? He cheated on you for fucks sake, you shouldn’t care what he thinks of you! Your hands are quaking all the same. “Is it true? That he went home with you?” “Yeah, he crashed here tonight.” You clear your throat.

“And did you-“ He stops short, and sighs. You wait for him to finish his sentence, and you know exactly what he’s trying to ask. You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes.

“Did I what, Midoriya?” Your words are sharp and aggressive. He thinks you’d do that? After five years with you, Midoriya thinks that you’re that shallow…

“Did you, you know…” It’s like he doesn’t want to say it, so you say it for him with a raised voice.

“For fucks sake Midoriya grow up and just say what you’re thinking.” You snap. You didn’t know you had it in you to be so harsh to Midoriya, but your sharp tone continues on as you do, “Did I sleep with him? Is that what you want to know, Midoriya? Did I fuck Bakugo to get back at you?”

“Jesus Y/n I didn’t mean it like that!” His words are wet with emotions.

“Why would you even need to know? Hmm? What would it have to do with you?”

“It has to do with me because you’re my ex and he’s my best friend-“

“Let me be clear, Midoriya, you have no right to ever ask me that again.” Your words are stone cold. You can hear his heavy sigh over the phone.

“You’re right. I guess it doesn’t matter.” You cast a glance to Bakugo, and he’s simply staring at you with wide eyes, watching you like some tv show that has him on the edge of his seat. “What did you need, then?”

“The article… What are you and Uraraka going to do about it?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“You need to come forward Midoriya. Both you and Uraraka need to come clean with the press. It’s not right that Bakugo gets slandered like this.”

“I know. I just don’t know what to say so that it doesn’t reflect badly on us.” His voice is high pitched.

“You should’ve thought of that before you started fucking her.” Your words are dripping venom.

“We never had sex, Y/n.”

“Give it up. Bakugo told me everything.” He falls silent again.

“It would be best if we can meet somewhere so we can talk this out.”

“Why should Bakugo and I have to do that? This is your problem, so fix it.”

“Y/n, please! The publicity will be bad for Uraraka-“

“What about Bakugo? The world thinks that he’s going behind your back with me. They’re making him the bad guy. He doesn’t deserve this. Uraraka should’ve also thought of the repercussion before snaking into your pants.”

“Come on.” Bakugo hisses. You send him a sharp look.

“Can we all just meet so we can figure out the best way to handle this?” You burry your lips into your cheeks and look to Bakugo.

“He wants to meet… To talk about it.”

“Why the fuck should we have to do that?” You shrug at the blonde.

“Not sure. Guess he doesn’t want to admit he cheated.”

“Y/n…” Midoriya whines through the phone; he must be crying again.

“We’ll meet you for dinner tonight.” You promptly hang up the phone and let out a heavy breath.

“What the hell do you mean we will meet them for dinner?” Bakugo throws his hands out, “I’m not going!”

“Okay, whatever. Hide in the bathroom and cry about it, I have princess bandaids in the medicine cabinet if your ouchies get a little too painful.” You snap at him.

“It’s got nothing to do with that. I just don’t want to see either of their fucking faces right now.”

“And I do?” You snap back. “I’m just trying to get this over with.”

“Alright. Whatever.” Bakugo stands and collects his car keys. You almost ask him where he’s going but realize you don’t really need to know. It’s not like you’re dating or anything. “I’m gonna go get some clothes. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“’kay.” With the slamming of your front door, you lay down on the couch and close your eyes.

You wonder, as you drift off to sleep, if maybe you’ll die while you sleep. Then, you wouldn't have to suffer sitting across the table from them.

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