Tsuki placed her hand on her knee, sitting criss‑cross apple sauce. They were both across from each other, eating the ramen Tsuki had cooked up for them. Bakugo reached over for the small glass of water and chugged half of it.
"Sorry, I couldn't have made some real food for you," she commented. "I would have, but someone decided to pull up without giving me a call."
He licked his bottom lip. "I don't have your number," he said, continuing to slurp up his ramen.
Tsuki eyed him. "That was your cue to ask me for it, you bastard."
"Hmrph?" he sounded. He used his chopstick to eat a cucumber. "My phone's on the couch," he said, using his chopstick to point to a spot near where she was seated in the living room. "Add it."
She sighed. "Why was I cursed for being a hopeless romantic? " She lifted herself up and grabbed his phone. Holding it in her hand, she proceeded to look at him. "What's your code?"
"My birthday."
Tsuki flared her nostrils. "April ..." she paused, "20th."
Bakugo nodded. "2001."
"So 04 ... 20 ... 01?" she asked.
He ignored her and continued to eat his ramen. She typed in the code, and the screen opened to contacts; she added her name as "my moon (;" and entered her phone number. Then she threw the phone onto the couch.
"Di‑id you text it?" he asked, his mouth full, sitting up and grabbing a cucumber from her plate.
She nodded. "I sent a 'hey'." She grabbed her phone from the table, and her eyes looked at the text that had popped up. She added the number to her contacts and named it "Katsukiꨄ︎." She lifted her arm and showed him the contact profile. "Look at the cute heart."
Bakugo looked up and stared at her phone. "You did tell that old lady I was your boyfriend." He grabbed the cup of water and drank the rest of it.
Tsuki felt a twinge of embarrassment flush her entire body. Her heart pumped painfully. "Wh‑what do you mean?" She cracked one of her fingers with her thumb. "Weren't we practically together?"
He shrugged. "I thought you weren't into labels." He used his thumb to wipe the side of his mouth and licked it. "Or was it just so the lady didn't question why I was there with you?" He set his chopsticks on the rim of his bowl and placed his arms behind him, propping himself up.
Tsuki stared at him for a moment. "I do whatever I want," she clarified, "and I pretty much say whatever I want, too."
He stared back, letting her words hang in the air. "You're so American." He exhaled through his nose with a laugh. "Land of the freedom, or some stupid crap like that."
Tsuki laughed. "I'm not American!"
He shrugged. "You talk like one." He tilted his head. "So did you want me to ask you?"
Tsuki's face flushed; her lips parted. "Ask me?" Her heart skipped a beat. "Ask me out? " She tilted her head while eating a cucumber with her hand. "Ask me what?"
He looked at her, annoyed. "Don't play dumb with me." He eyed her; his stomach felt lightly queasy. "I hate that you always try to get me to say crap ... out loud ..." His eyebrows twitched. "Damn, moon kisser."
She hummed, "You should ask me," and smiled.
"You're the one who said I was your boyfriend," he responded.
"Is that an issue?" she challenged, "Mr. Bakugo?"
His neck hairs stood up at the sound of his last name; he eyed her. "No."
She smiled. "Then ask me out anyway, for the sake of young romance."
He rolled his eyes. "You're so annoying."
She smiled. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead and muster up the courage."
His ego flared. "Tuh," he said as he sat up, placing his forearm on the table. "Courage?" He glared at her. "It's just a stupid question."
"Then ask it."
He clenched his teeth, fighting the pounding in his chest. "Why does you always make my body overreact to stupid crap? " He clenched his fist. "I—" He fought the slight waver in his voice. "I don't like asking for crap." He furrowed his eyebrows at her, exceedingly annoyed.
"Then don't," she said calmly, her voice slithering down his ear canal and weaving into the nerves of his spine. "Tell me."
Her words echoed in his head; he felt his hand twitch. "Tell me? " he repeated in his head. "Tell her what? " His finger fiddled with the material of the carpet. "Tell her instead of asking? " He cocked his brow. "You cheeky bastard," he said, sitting up straighter and using his chopstick to point at her. "You ..." He paused. "You're mine." His tongue flicked across his upper teeth. "Whatever title you'd like to say ... I don't care." He shrugged. "I've never been a fan of labels, myself."
"Okay, Mr. American," she said in an American accent. "Ohhh kaaaaay."
Bakugo laughed, rolling his eyes. "You're such an idiot."
She smiled while her heart pounded lightly against the bones of her rib cage. She crawled over to him.
"You're such a cutie," she said as she threw her arms around his neck.
His face turned a light shade of red. "Cutie?" he said, annoyed, looking down at the top of her head. She dramatically snuggled her face into his neck. "Why does you always say that kind of crap to me?" he exhaled slowly. "She's so stupid."
She kissed his neck. A raw chill sent a shiver spiking the nerves in his entire body. He hesitated, unable to move. Tsuki laid her body weight into him. One of his hands rested on her lower back; a few fingers slipped under the lining of her shirt. The coldness of his fingers spread along her back, and goosebumps formed on her legs. She slightly tightened her grip on his shirt. Bakugo felt the warmth of her body heat and slid the rest of his hand under her shirt, his palm running along her lower back.
"She's so small," he thought again, his entire hand fitting the small of her back. "She's ... like ... delicate." His finger drew circles along the skin of her back.
Tsuki's heart fluttered, hard. His touch made the veins in her heart palpitate. She felt as if every time he touched her, she could never get used to the nerves or the tension they constantly emitted between them.
...
