Three hours later, your intercom buzzed.
You were sitting on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket, staring at the wall. The television was on, but you weren't at all focused on watching it. You hadn't eaten, or even cried. You felt alone…empty. As if all the warmth Katsuki had infused into you with his hands, his mouth, that cock that had filled you until you forgot your own name, had vanished into thin air.
The intercom rang again.
You struggled to your feet, your legs heavy. You pressed the voice button. "Who is it?"
Silence. Then, you heard his hoarse voice. "Open the fucking gate."
Katsuki.
Your fingers trembled on the button, but you pressed it anyway and opened the door for him. You heard him climbing the stairs two at a time, his footsteps heavy and furious. Then the door swung open with a kick.
He was there, standing in the doorway. His hair was disheveled, his eyes bloodshot and full of anger. His wrinkled shirt looked as if he'd thrown it on in a hurry; his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.
"Katsuki..." you whispered, instinctively stepping back.
He kicked the door shut and lunged at you, grabbing your arms with a force that hurt. "Tell me it's not true," he growled, his face so close you could smell the beer — and the anger — on his breath. "Tell me you're not going back to that piece of shit."
You shook your head, tears finally starting to stream down your beautiful face. "I'm not going back to anyone! I just told you he called me, that's all! I didn't do anything, I didn't…"
"Then, why the fuck do you want to see him?" His fingers dug lightly into your flesh. "HUH? TELL ME? Do you want me to fuck you again? Do you want me to treat you like the whore you are?"
His words hurt.
"NO!" you screamed, trying to break free. "I'm not a whore! And I didn't do anything, damn it! He called me and…"
Katsuki slammed you against the wall, his body crushing you, immense, suffocating. "Then why the fuck did you say yes to him?" His mouth was so close to yours, his eyes burning with a jealousy so pure it took your breath away. "Tell me the truth. You want him. You want him to touch you, to kiss you, to fill you with that old man's limp cock…"
"ENOUGH!" you shoved him, surprising us both. He took a step back, his eyes wide. "It's not like that!" You cried, your chest rising and falling, your cheeks wet. "I don't even know what I want! But it's not him! It's not just him!"
Katsuki remained still, breathing heavily. Then, slowly, his shoulders slumped. The anger faded from his face, replaced by something much, much worse: pain.
"So…" His voice was broken. "So it's me."
You looked at him, confused. "W-what?"
"I'm the one you want." He ran a hand through his hair, the desperate gesture of a boy who didn't know what to do. "But it's not enough. I'm not enough. Is that right?"
"No…" you whispered, but the word died in your throat.
Because it was a lie.
Because Katsuki was enough. He was too much. He was fire and passion and possessiveness, his hands branded you, your mouth demanded him, your pussy craved him. But no matter how hard you tried not to think about the past, you had to admit to yourself that Toshinori was still there. There were unanswered questions. There was the need to know, to understand, to have closure.
And you couldn't tell him.
You couldn't tell him that, yes, you wanted Katsuki. That you wanted him more than you'd ever wanted anything. But that there was something—or someone—pulling you back, whispering that you couldn't just let go.
Katsuki leaned in again, slowly this time. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away your tears with a tenderness that broke your heart. "I love you," he said, his voice shaking. "Fuck, I love you so much it hurts. And I know I shouldn't tell you this, I know I'm a mess, I know I'm hurting you unintentionally, but..." He stopped, swallowing hard. "I want you to be mine. Really mine. Not just to fuck, not just to hide, not just for when we feel like it. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want people to know this, for EVERYONE to know this. I want you to know this too."
Your heart stopped.
His words resonated in your bones, in your blood, in every part of you you'd always dreamed of feeling. But now they were there, real, tangible, but all you could feel was fear.
"Katsuki…" you murmured, your voice cracking. "I…I don't know what to say."
He closed his eyes, as if expecting that answer. When he opened them again, they were slightly watery. "Then…give me time," he said. "Give me a chance to make you fall in love with me. Like I fell in love with you."
You couldn't breathe. You couldn't think.
He leaned in, brushing your lips against his in a kiss so sweet it hurt. Then he pulled away, leaving you there, shaking and confused.
"See you tomorrow, at school," he murmured, turning toward the door.
"Katsuki, wait…"
But he was already out. The door closed behind him.
You remained still in the living room. Your lips still burned from his kiss, your body remembered his touch too well. But then, the thought of Toshinori crossed your mind.
What would you do when he arrived?
Dinner was cold by now, but you hadn't been hungry for hours.
***
It was 10 to 8, and you were already outside your house waiting for Toshinori to arrive. You could feel that disgusting humidity sticking to your skin, while the cotton of your oversized T-shirt clung to your sweaty torso and the lace of your black bra barely scratched your nipples, already hard from nervousness. You hadn't worn anything underneath, just that piece of fabric that made you feel both protected and exposed, a contradiction that made you feel really good in that moment. The ripped jeans were tight around your thighs; that evening you'd opted for a more sober look, since you'd only be talking to Toshinori, and nothing more.
The clock on your phone finally struck eight with a vibrating sound in your pocket. You didn't need to look ahead to know he'd arrived. The roar of the Lamborghini's V10 was unmistakable, a roar that made your stomach clench with anxiety. You saw him appear at the corner of the enormous tree down in the little square, his headlights piercing the darkness like knives, his black body blending into the evening gloom. The door opened with a hydraulic hiss, and Toshinori emerged with the predatory grace of a feline. From afar you saw his muscles moving under his shirt, his imposing height and black trousers outlined his cock, already semi-hard, already waiting.
He didn't smile. He didn't look at you with his usual game of glances and crooked smiles. He remained there, still, with his hands buried in his pockets, as if afraid that if he moved them, he would upset the precarious balance that still kept you two connected. You pushed away from the wall, feeling your back cold from the lack of concrete, and walked toward him. Every step was a small death, a goodbye to something that perhaps had never truly begun. You thought that tonight, you would have all the answers you needed, to clarify the situation between you and him once and for all.
Once you arrived, you got into the car.
The scent of leather seats and men's cologne filled your nostrils, making you want to close your eyes and let go. But you didn't. He followed you in, slammed the door, and turned to face you.
Toshinori was about to start the engine. But before he did, his fingers drummed on the leather steering wheel, his breathing too rapid for someone who wanted to appear calm. He turned back to you, and as you looked at him, you saw a storm in his eyes (perhaps remorse, or desire)... in short, something that dangerously resembled fear.
"Don't start the car. We won't be late," you said, your voice sharp. "I'll just stay long enough to hear what you have to say. Then I'll go."
He clenched his jaw. The veins in his neck were visibly throbbing, betraying the adrenaline coursing through his blood. "Damn…" he whispered, running a hand through his hair. "I screwed up. I know it."
"Enlighten me," you replied coldly. "I want to hear exactly what you did."
Toshinori closed his eyes for a second, as if gathering his strength. Then he opened them again, and the gaze he gave you was so intense that you felt the need to tighten your grip. "The second night you were gone," he began, "I thought that maybe the confession I made to you in the car had somehow made you…frustrated. Maybe you wanted some space. But then the days went by, you weren't replying to our messages, you weren't going out with us anymore, you weren't coming to the parties... And I..." He stopped and swallowed, "I'm an idiot. I thought you'd moved on. That you'd found someone else. Someone better."
You felt a lump in your throat. "So, you decided to console yourself with Midnight."
He nodded slowly, as if every movement was a tremendous effort. "Yes. She came to me, told me you were out of the picture, that you wouldn't be going out for a while, and that maybe it was because you were engaged. And I…" He burst into a nervous laugh. "I gave in. Because it's easier to sink into a tight pussy than to face the fact that the person I really want just dumped me without even…"
"I didn't dump you," you interrupted, your voice shaking. "It was as if I indirectly asked you for some time to think. You confessed to me, and I… I didn't know what to do. It's also true that I didn't ask you to give me time to figure it out. But you preferred to screw the first girl who came along. And who, of all things, you despised. You teased me, saying nice things, and then…"
Toshinori shook his head, his eyes shining. "It didn't happen like that. I… fuck, I don't even know…" He stopped, clenching his fists until his knuckles were white. "Every time I was inside her, I thought about you. How I wished it were you. How the fuck I ruined everything for a moment of weakness."
You felt your lips tremble. Not from jealousy—that was long gone—but from anger. The burning disappointment of knowing that, once again, he had chosen the easy way out. "So you fucked her," you said, every word coming out of your mouth feeling like a nail being driven into your chest. "You made her cum on your cock while I sat at home wondering if it was worth it to try it with you."
He closed his eyes, as if those words had hit him squarely in the face. "Yes," he admitted, "And every second I was inside her, I hated myself. Because she wasn't you. Because you'll never be her."
A moment of silence. The weight of his words was suffocating, unbearable. He leaned toward you, his eyes burning on your beautiful face. "But you're here now," he whispered, "And I won't let you go without a fight again."
You shook your head, a tired, confident gesture. "There's nothing to fight for."
"There's an us," he growled, his hand resting on your knee, his fingers slipping under the hem of your ripped jeans, brushing the bare skin of your thigh. "There's the fact that I know exactly how to make you moan, how to make you cum until your legs shake. I know how to lick you..."
You felt the heat invade your treacherous belly. His touch was like fire beneath you, making your inner muscles contract, making you want to spread your legs and beg him to fill you. But then you saw Katsuki in your mind's eye, his red eyes filled with a devotion Toshinori had never shown. The way he spoke to you, as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him. The way he touched you, too, not just to possess you, but to adore you, drove you crazy.
"There's someone in my life now…who treats me like I'm precious," you said, your voice strangled. "Not like a hole to fill when he feels like it."
Toshinori clenched his jaw again, his fingers tightening on your thigh, leaving a mark. "I guess you're talking about Katsuki Bakugo, right? Everyone's talking about him now."
You didn't answer; he didn't need to know. "Well, I don't care. I'll treat you much better. I remember well when you begged for my cock, when you came so hard in the countryside, you wet my thighs. Tell me that's not true. Tell me I didn't make you feel alive."
You moaned, despite the thought of Katsuki, and your thighs clenched to contain the wet heat flooding your panties. "Enough," you whispered, but you didn't move. You didn't push him away.
He smiled. "Tell me the truth…you don't want me to stop," he murmured, his fingers still trailing up, grazing the lace of your bra while his thumb brushed over your hard nipple. "You want me to rip these fucking jeans off…don't you?"
You closed your eyes, your breathing short. "No."
"Liar," he hissed, as his mouth was on yours, violent, possessive, his tongue invading you as if he wanted to brand you, while you tried to push him away.
Suddenly, someone slammed their fists on the car's windshield. You recognized him immediately: it was Katsuki. His face was twisted into a mask of anger and something very similar to pain. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white.
"HEY, GET YOUR HANDS OFF HER, YOU BASTARD!"