the night was young, laughter ringing through the room like vibrations of joy, and yet katsuki bakugo just would not kiss you.
of course, he had not bothered to partake in the game of spin the bottle. sitting lazily on the couch nearest the circle of giggling teens, he had barely lifted his eyes from the rim of his cup before grumbling a rough “no.” despite the response being entirely in character for the blond, the immediate denial — almost as if he had been long prepared to deny the opportunity to kiss you — was mildly humiliating. it was a difficult task to conceal the embarrassment coating your face in warmth, but you hoped that those around you were too inebriated to notice. they were, luckily… except for him. all too sober, he almost felt bad, but he believed his reasoning was enough to justify his firm dismissal.
denki nudged him by the shoulder, giving him a look that was promptly ignored. “dude,” he said quietly, almost gritted.
a nasty glare was shot in his direction, one that spoke multitudes. oddly enough, it seemed to soften into something more complex when it dropped to his lap, but his words were brash all the same. “kaminari, shut your trap. now.”
denki ran a hand down his face, groaning. it seemed that everyone in the room had a shared sort of exasperation; they somehow saw right through him in a way you could not. for once, you seemed to be the only one that did not understand him.
your attempts to dismiss it and move on, to put the spotlight elsewhere for but a moment, were flushed away when mina interjected with a “why not?”
red eyes narrowed into slits, his jaw ticking. “because.”
he was visibly growing flustered, brows knitting together in barely concealed frustration. fists clenched, the red plastic of his solo cup crumpled enough to make a sound. “I said no. fuck off.”
a series of protests and drunken whines echoed through the muggy room. “just do i-“
a pause. his face went red. the room fell silent in what was barely a beat, eyes boring saucer shaped holes into the both of you. your lips parted almost as if to speak, but nothing came out save for a single dry croak. everyone looked at you except for katsuki. ever the confrontational, suddenly shying away from a bit of eye contact.
turns out that yes, he had refused to kiss you, but not out of disgust or even a lack of romantic attraction to you. he had refused to kiss you in the dingy confines of this dimly lit room, countless eyes trained on you, putting on a show that would be forgotten by morning. he had planned to do it some other time — properly — because he knew that was what you deserved. not the taste of cheap liquor and erupting cheers, but the gentle embrace of a lover and the bliss of something new.
a/n: why am I writing for mha and katsuki of all people what is wrong with me