I'm so fucking sick right now-

———

The whole interview with the press, was least to say, stressful.

Those nosy journalist assholes pressed on private matters- immediately attacking Katsuki's comfort zone on touchy details about both him and Izuku, not caring if they made the two uncomfortable or not; which resulted in Katsuki lashing out and (almost) throwing a table.

Fortunately, Izuku was there to restrain him from doing so- by holding his hand and practically glaring at him with a challenging look of "I know you won't fucking dare". It strangely reminded Bakugou of his mom.

So Midoriya just covered his part, considering he was already fuming at the press, and the only thing that came out from his open mouth were curse words.

He smoothly admitted that they were both in a relationship, showing their intertwined fingers for back up when Katsuki gave a smug smirk at the cameras. That's right- he was his. No one else's. Suck on that, you damn press.

Izuku also explained that they just recently got together, showing the magazine cover they posed for and saying that they were in a relationship right after. It elicited some odd looks.

After all, who gets together with only days of knowing each other? Them, apparently. But Midoriya was quick to assure them that what they felt was real, adding on a convincing, soft, signature smile to woo the journalists and maybe shut them the fuck up from asking about their relationship.

It was a surprise, because of Midoriya not being overwhelmed easily by the amount of meddling shit heads, because Katsuki fucking knows that if he was in Izuku's position, he would've been low key grumpy. And it was strange, because he bore the obnoxious questions with an easy smile and transfixing, hypnotic voice. What a saint, am I right?

All in all, Katsuki just sat there for two hours, mind wandering away to the bold promise he made at the dressing room.

'I'm going to fucking ride you,' his own voice echoed in his mind as he drowned out the dull sounds of the press crowding their table. His ears tinged pink at the thought. 'Fuck, what was I thinking?', he almost smacked himself from his stupid he was.

His red eyes landed on Izuku, who was right next to him.

He had their hands intertwined together, resting on Katsuki's lap as his thumb rubbed comforting circles around the back of his palm to try and assure him. It brought his foreign, fluttery feeling in Bakugou's stomach, and the feeling wasn't unwelcome. It felt somewhat.. Pleasant, much to Katsuki's favor.

"Kacchan," Izuku's soft voice cut through his thoughts. "Are you alright?" Katsuki jerked out of his day dream, unintentionally clenching Izuku's hand in his.

Soft, forest green eyes locked onto him with genuine concern, and for a moment, Katsuki forgot they sat in front of a crowd. "You were spacing out. Want to slip out from here? They're questioning one of my friends right now. I should've known you wouldn't do too well in such a crowded place- the camera flashes could induce a high amount of stress and-"

"Shut the fuck up," Katsuki quietly seethed, furrowing his eyebrows as he took a glance beyond Midoriya's turned back, and confirmed that the model (one of Izuku's co-workers) Kyoka Jirou was being interviewed in place of Izuku now. She had her short hair pinned up with a purple flower with pink gradients on it, matching her dark lavender shirt and black tights.

The girl looked flustered, eyes squinting a bit whenever a camera flashed her way. Her hands, which were hidden under the table, tangling and untangling repeatedly with the cloth draped over the furniture. She was obviously feeling anxious, considering the interview was already two hours in without any signs of stopping.

Two other (extra) uprising models sat beside them, Ibara Shiozaki on Izuku's left side, and Pony Tsunotori on Katsuki's right. They both looked nervous- considering they were sitting right beside two big shots in the model industry. Katsuki felt smug at that, his pride swelling a bit more.

"Katsuki. Are you alright?"

Izuku's tone was now firmer- with Bakugou realizing this is the second time he has spaced out. "Yeah," Katsuki inhaled, not liking the putrid smell of bad expensive cologne wafting through his nose, scrunching the bridge up. "Fucking fine."

In truth, the damn cameras constantly flashing in his face was taking a toll on him already, judging by the way he clenched his jaw whenever a camera was pointed towards him. It made his skin crawl. His ass already hurt, he had stupid back pains that no twenty three year old should fucking have, and his legs had already fallen numb.

The day he admits he needs help is the day he fucking dies.

Izuku silently observed him, flashing his blinding smiles to the camera- but Katsuki could easily tell it was strained.
He was concerned, and that made the searing feeling of anger and burning shame well into a bubble in his gut. He didn't need help. He was fine!-

Midoriya suddenly stood up, still holding Katsuki's hand.

"We're taking a leave," Izuku said into the microphone, his voice loud enough to gather the attention. "Something came up. I would love you thank you for inviting us to this event, and I also look forward to meeting all of you again."

Izuku stiffly bowed as the crowd stopped their cameras momentarily, before they let out sounds of reluctant agreement. Is was already getting late, after all. He then pushed in his metal chair with a screech, clasping Katsuki's hand in his, and before he could register what was happening- he got dragged off the stage with a stupefied look on his face.

Katsuki blinked a bit when they arrived backstage, wincing at the sudden change of lighting. Moments ago, it was bright, and now they stood in a dark area with a bunch of vanity mirrors, cheap suits that hung on racks, and a deserted room.

"Kacchan," Izuku stopped walking before turning to him with a scolding look on his face. "You should seriously tell me if you're uncomfortable about these kinds of things. I would've excused us earlier."

Katsuki's bewildered look morphed into a rueful glare. How fucking- "Stop fucking mothering me!" He grunted, ripping his wrist out of Izuku's grip and stuffing it vehemently in his pocket. "Kacchan." Izuku looked at him sternly- and he hated it. He hated how this shit head cared for him. "I'm not helpless! I'm not a fucking child!" Katsuki pressed on, stomping towards Izuku's shorter figure.

Izuku was babying him.

He didn't need help.

Izuku embarrassed him in front of everyone! He was fucking fine!

"Kacchan you-" red hot anger thrummed trough his veins at the concerned expression Midoriya shot him. "I'm not weak! I don't need your annoying fucking ass bothering me! Fucking hell, Deku!"

Midoriya's expression hardened a bit, furrowing his eyebrows at the taller male continued to back him up into a wall. "I'm not saying you're weak, Kacchan-" "Shut the FUCK up!" Katsuki grit his teeth, jabbing a finger on Izuku's chest- a painful gesture to point at his heart. He doesn't need anyone! He doesn't need-

"I don't fucking NEED you, fucking useless Deku!"