————

"I mean- honestly man, that was a dick move."

"Yeah- no shit, Sherlock. Stop fucking rubbing it in you fucking shitty-haired asshole."

Katsuki mirthlessly groaned into his pillow, regret and shame boiling in his nerves- two newly discovered emotions he absolutely fucking hated.

He was Bakugou Katsuki for Christ's sake- he's got an emotional range of a fucking teaspoon as his mother put it.
He was either prideful, angry- and well, angrier. He has no time to feel shame because he's a Bakugou, damn it! A rich, respected family in the modeling field! Masaru was a photographer- along with a designer for their own brand. Mitsuki was the boss around here- a foul-mouthed banshee that made absolutely sure that Katsuki was in check in front of an audience.

Katsuki was prideful; rightfully so.

Kirishima chilled on his beanbag on the floor, a half-hearted frown playing on his mouth and his eyebrows twitching in concentration at his friend's problem.

They both relaxed in Katsuki's room- a plain white, boring one, with a bed and shelves stuffed with expensive books. What are good looks without a bit of knowledge, right?

His room was practically empty- always going to business trips, hitching planes on the regular, and busy posing for the camera in different countries- COUNTRIES, for fuck's sake, so you'll have to forgive him for being such a trash interior designer.

"Alright, Bakugou. I have a solution to your plan." Kirishima broke the silence, interrupting Katsuki groveling in his own guilt and shame. Bakugou eagerly looked at Kirishima- suddenly being slightly suspicious of the apprehensive look the red head wore. "Fucking spit it out, you damn dick twitch. What is it?"

"You're.. Not really going to like it.." Kirishima trailed off- looking a bit unsure.

Fuck it.

Katsuki was desperate to make a amends, anyway.

"Spit it or I'll fucking shove my foot up your ass you'll be tasting shoelaces for a week."

Kirishima, unperturbed by the half-hearted threat, snorted a bit with an amused look on his face.

"You'll have to apologize."

———

Fuck this.

Fuck the universe, fuck whoever created them- fuck his inflated fucking ego that matches Mt. Fuji if piled up, fuck that damn red- headed block head and most importantly,

Fuck himself.

Fuck himself for getting in this situation- where he was in his pajamas, late at night- angrily browsing flowers in a flower shop, where no employees dared to approach him considering he looked like an unhinged time bomb about to explode and kill everyone within a 200 mile range.

"Fuck shit-" he hissed, accidentally scraping his wrist against a pink rose's sharp stupid thorn. He sharply inhaled, counting down from ten in order to calm himself down and avoid the charge of second-degree murder charge towards the employee at the back who was watching his with weary eyes.

"You.. Do you need help.. Sir...?"

A female employee coughed, hesitantly gaining his attention before speaking in surprise at the scalding glare that suddenly fixating on her. ".. Yeah." He forcefully exhaled, glaring at the Hibiscus flowers all up in his face.

The employee- Mejin Shiku he read on the name tag- began introducing him to the various flowers, some with a strong scent that made Katsuki dizzy, others either too bland or not colorful at all. 'What a fucking failure of a flower shop,' he inwardly sneered.

That was a thought in his head- until he came across a simple bouquet of Peonies and radiant pink Dahlia's that were- indeed, eye candy.

"That," he pointed at the bouquet on display, not caring if he rudely interrupted the employee who was rambling about Aster flowers. "How much?"

The employee, who seemed somewhat annoyed and elated at the fact that Katsuki was buying something from their trashy flower shop, perked up. "$25, sir," she grinned widely. "A good pick too. It's fresh from a batch earlier!"

Bakugou nodded along, formulating a plan in his head.

He will show up- right at ten a.m. at Izuku's door first thing in the morning, shove the stupid fucking flowers in his face, and force him to forgive Katsuki by stamping his ass down on the curb.

What a good idea.

———

Except it wasn't.

"Don't worry, Baku-fam! You'll do fine!" Mina, his coworker (friend) grinned toothily at him, a growl escaping his throat as she gave a light hearted, free laugh, unbothered by the deadly glares she was receiving.

They both stood in front of Katsuki's complex- the time reading nine-forty a.m., both running into each other by accident. Mina had been tasked by her boss to deliver more paperwork about Mitsuki's products to the Bakugou residence- not expecting to see a bone-rattled Katsuki pacing back and forth with a banquet of flowers in hand.

It earned a mischievous grin from Ashido- but she swore on her heart that she won't tell anyone, so Katsuki begrudgingly explained his situation.

Mina had listened attentively- almost creepily so, before giving him some tips and pointers that were actually fucking useful for once.

"Remember," Mina said. "Admit that it's your fault, yeah? And then you could explain yourself on why you lashed out like that. And THEN, take him out on a date. He at least deserves another apology treat."

What a fucking pain in the ass- Love was.

But he can't get the stupid, stupid green-haired, nerdy idiot out of his goddamn mind- guilt eating him inside out and turning his fucking heart purple.

Katsuki hesitantly thanked her- walking into his driveway before receiving a solid smack on his upper back followed by a playful "Go get 'em, tiger!" After he turned around. Ashido- despite her petite appearance- held the strength of a fucking fifty ton lifter. Well, Katsuki didn't really expect any less from a goddamn silver medalist for winning in a national wrestling championship.

"Strong ass bitch," he cursed her under his breath, not even bothering to bolt after the girl. He may (barely) match up with her with strength and agility- but she was probably long gone the second she laid a hand on him.

———

"Ah! Bakugou, what are you doing here?"

Inko Midoriya's smile radiated pleasantness and calm, slightly soothing Katsuki's heart which was beating quite wildly- threatening to rip out of his chest any moment due to the sheer amount of nervousness. "Good morning, Midoriya-san," Katsuki stiffly bowed, the bouquet of flowers in the middle of his curled hands.

He took notice of the working clothes she had on- an elegant green dress with a simple silver necklace- a ring hanging by the chain.

She had her hair tucked into a neat bun, a beige shoulder bag hooked around her neck. "Going to work, ma'am?" Katsuki offered an empathetic hum, knowing how taxing fashion designing could be- proven by the amount of crumpled paper that regularly sat on Masaru's desk, a take from Mitsuki's unorganized one.

Inko nodded, confirming his thoughts. "Yes, well.. Won't you come in? Izuku is upstairs in his study- the room to the very right end. He's been cooped up with his paintbrushes since yesterday night, and I can't even get him to take a break." Inko's face softened sadly, which felt like a sucker punch to Katsuki's gut. "He was acting off since yesterday night; I hope the press didn't do anything."

Bakugou dryly gulped, energy leaving his body as his mood deteriorated. He has really fucked up, huh?

"Nevertheless, I'll be leaving him to you, seeing how you're here to comfort him." Inko's face brightened at the sight of the bouquet of flowers in hand, before looking at him with a serious but gentle stare. It unnerved Katsuki at the amount of protectiveness and unwavering love the familiar green eyes displayed.

"I'll leave him in your hands for now, Bakugou. I hope that whatever is going in his mind right now will be lifted now that you show up."