Tap, tap, tap, tap. Your heels clicked on the tiled floor as you walked to your apartment. It was late, so the hallway was mostly deserted, the only other person in sight being an inebriated young man stumbling out of a room. You nodded to him as you passed, but he ignored you. That was to be expected, no one in the building was particularly friendly – it was a city thing – and that characteristic just became more pronounced at night. No harm done.
Your suitcase rolled along the floor behind you, clicking as it caught on the edges of the tiles every now and again. You’d been gone for almost two weeks, sent to the United States to attend a conference for your company. It was a nightmare. It had been dominated by arrogant men all convinced that they knew more than you about topics you were researching. So, when the opportunity arose to leave early, you grabbed it. Nothing sounded better than going home and spend some much-needed time relaxing with your boyfriend. You had opted not to tell him you were coming, wanting to leave it a surprise.
Once you found yourself in front of your apartment, you fumbled around in your purse, trying to find your keys. They jingled faintly, taunting you as they lay just out of reach.
“There we go,” you muttered to yourself as you freed your keychain from the purse, the metal clinking together. Unlocking the door and throwing it open, your lips pulled back into a bright grin as you prepared to greet Bakugou.
Except, he wasn’t in the living room. You wheeled the suitcase ahead of you, letting the heavy door fall closed. He might be asleep. As much as he liked to get any and all work done the night before, he also liked to get his beauty rest.
Prying off your heels, so as not to disturb Bakugou, you tiptoed toward the bedroom. You expected complete silence – Bakugou was a heavy sleeper after all and didn’t snore – but to your surprise, could hear some heavy breathing. Was he okay?
“Hah… Mmm… Bakugou-san…” An unfamiliar voice. An unfamiliar female voice. An unfamiliar female voice making sex noises.
You threw open the door and hit the light switch. In the instant before the lights came on, you prayed that it wasn’t what you feared it was, that you had somehow misunderstood the situation, that there was another explanation. Bakugou wasn’t the type. He wasn’t.
But you must not have known him as well as you thought you did because with the lights on and the moment of hopefulness passed, you found yourself staring at a stranger’s naked back while she rode your boyfriend. For a moment, you found yourself unable to move, simply transfixed on the horrific repetitive movement, each thrust sending another brick crumbling down from your perfect life. You were disgusted. You just wanted to be gone, anywhere but there. Maybe even back to that god-forsaken conference.
“[Y/N]?!” The voice snapped you out of your daze. Bakugou had pushed the woman away from him and was fumbling to cover himself with anything within arm’s reach.
“Don’t bother,” you spat. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before.” He threw the blanket over himself anyway. The stranger was fumbling around on the ground for her clothes, sheet draped haphazardly around her torso. “And you.” She scrambled to look back at you, mortification painted across her face. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
“Um, I- just a mome-” She fumbled about with the clothes, struggling to get anything on while still keeping herself a little bit covered.
“Just take the fucking sheet with you. God knows I’m going to have to burn the thing anyway.” The woman looked over at Bakugou, terrified and seeking any sort of assistance, but he was too focused on you. “I said get the fuck out of my house.” Your teeth were clenched, jaw growing sore from the pressure. “Now.”
“Um, yes, right.” She scooped up an armful of her clothes – possibly getting some of Bakugou’s in the process – and rushed to the door, accidentally bumping into you on the way out. “I’m- I’m so sorry.” You didn’t acknowledge her.
Once you heard the front door slam shut and were sure she was gone, you turned to your boyfriend – well, soon to be ex-boyfriend – ready to yell your lungs out. Bakugou was stumbling around in his underwear, trying to find more clothes to put on, but he froze when he noticed you looking at him.
“What the actual fuck were you thinking?” you practically screamed. “Please enlighten me because this is not the kind of shit that I thought you would stoop to.”
“I can explain.”
“Oh, can you now? Please do.” He stopped tripping around for clothes and stood up with perfect posture, pausing to choose his words carefully.
“I didn’t go out with the intention of sleeping with someone else.”
“Well, that makes me feel loads better.”
“Don’t interrupt me.”
“You don’t get to be making demands in this situation.” You gave him a blank, hardened stare and he furrowed his brow in response, but didn’t protest.
“I didn’t go out with the intention of sleeping with someone else,” he repeated. “I just wanted to go drink at a bar by myself for a while, so I went out to our usual place. But, after about an hour there, that chick recognized me.” He motioned to the door, as if it were unclear what “chick” he was referring to. “She kept pestering me, asking for autographs and to drink with her. It was fucking annoying, but I don’t know…” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “She kinda looked like you and you’d be gone for a long time, I was fucking- I was fucking lonely.” He was being more sentimental than usual, up-front about his feelings. Probably because he realized that was the only way he had a chance of getting you to listen. “So, I agreed to drink with her for a bit, but I’d already had a lot to drink and I started to lose track of time. The bartender gave last call and I don’t fucking know… She asked to come here, I don’t know why I said okay.”
“You knew what would happen if you invited her over.”
“Maybe some part of me did, but I didn’t think about it.”
“Not thinking about it is just as bad,” you snapped. He didn’t respond, so you prompted him. “Explain how it happened.”
“I don’t think…”
“Explain how it happened.”
“We came here once the bar closed and we drank some more. She just helped herself to some of our wine and I didn’t stop her. After a while, she started coming onto me.” He paused to read your expression, but continued when he came up with nothing. “I should have refused. God, I should have fucking refused, but her kisses were warm and I was drunk and I stopped thinking and just accepted it.”
“You don’t seem super drunk now, how long ago was this?”
He bit his lip, looking to the ground.
“Oh my god,” you breathed, realization washing over you. “How many times did you do it?”
He didn’t answer.
Still no answer.
“What the fuck? Six? Seven? Jesus Christ, Katsuki, you and I haven’t done it that many times in a row.”
“It wasn’t fucking seven times,” he retorted. Bakugou was growing more and more heated the longer you two argued and from your perspective, that was just hurting his case. It did make yelling a little easier, though.
“Well, then, how many?”
“[Y/N], can we not focus on that? I’m sorry.” To his credit, he did sound genuinely upset and regretful, but the didn’t necessarily make a difference in this scenario.
“Just tell me.”
“I don’t thin-”
You didn’t know what to do with that information. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, all it did was hurt more and you were hurting enough as-is. You stood silent.
“Wow,” you managed. “That’s a lot, huh?” You chuckled to yourself. Your anger was fading, leaving a heavy, growing pain in your chest that refused to back down. Something about the situation felt like a sick joke. “She must’ve been good.”
“[Y/N], I told you, it’s not like that.”
“No, no, really. Was she good? Was she better than me?” You didn’t want to know the answer to that. Why did you ask that? “I bet she got down on her knees and sucked your dick for you, let you fuck her into the mattress, let you throw her around. Made you feel like the goddamn king of the fucking world. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Huh, King Explosion Murder.” You said the fake hero name tauntingly, enunciating each word separately. Bakugou opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off before he could answer. “Sorry, sorry, it’s Ground Zero, isn’t it? Ground Zero the great, amazing top-ten hero that every girl out there wants to fuck.”
“You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren't gone so fucking much!”
“Oh, this is my fault? I walk in here to find you cheating on me and you have the gall to blame me for it?” You felt your eyes starting to sting, but fought off the incoming tears. “What’s it like being an arrogant bastard?”
“I’m not being arrogant, you’re not fucking listening to me!”
“Well, I was listening earlier when you were panting for her like a fucking dog.”
“Good because maybe then you could learn a thing or two from her technique.” You froze.
“Get out of my home.” You threw an arm out, pointing to the open bedroom door. Words weren’t coming easily anymore and you could feel yourself approaching a full-blown meltdown, but you refused for Bakugou to be around when that happened.
“Wait, no, [Y/N], I didn’t mean that.”
“I don’t care. Get out.” You yelled internally, urging yourself not to cry. Now is not the time. Don’t cry. “Go to Kirishima’s house or a hotel or your office or anywhere but here, I don’t fucking care. Just leave.” Don’t cry. The words were getting caught in your throat as you crept closer and closer to sobbing. “Tomorrow morning, you can come pack up your stuff.” Don’t cry. God dammit, [Y/N], do not cry.
“[Y/N], I wasn’t trying to hurt you, I swear.”
“I don’t care that you weren’t trying to.” Your voice cracked halfway through the sentence. Oh no, here come the tears. “You still did.” Once the dam broke, you couldn’t stop the waterfall of tears that went streaming down your face. “Sometimes intentions don’t matter, Katsuki. You may not have been trying to hurt me, but I’m still standing here with my heart on the floor and your boot-prints all over it.” You pressed the heel of one hand against your eye in a vain attempt to stop crying. Your voice when quiet, weak. “Please, just go.”
“[Y/N]…” He took a step toward you. You took a step back.
“Please.” The word was tiny and broken, the spoken epitome of everything you felt at the time, everything you were.
Bakugou didn’t respond, instead pulling on a pair of pants and the nearest shirt as well as grabbing his keys on the dresser. You closed your eyes and drew in a sharp breath. Once he’d gathered his things, he stepped next to you, ready to leave on your order.
“I still love you,” he whispered. You gasped out a puff of air, resisting the urge to hug him, and turned your head down away from him. He sighed. “I’m sorry.” Two dozen paces and the door’s click. He was gone.