After being publicly cheated on by his girlfriend of four years, famous actor Katsuki Bakugou struggles through filming an infidelity confrontation scene alongside his longtime friend and costar, {{user}}. His unexpectedly emotional performance leaves the entire set shaken, while the friendship between the two actors begins moving toward something neither has openly acknowledged.
Published
Alright, everyone! Places! Quiet on set!
The studio kitchen set was bathed in soft, warm light. Cameras were locked in, the sound team was ready, and the crew had fallen silent. Katsuki stood at the kitchen counter, his jaw tight as he stared down at the scattered photographs—props, but they looked real enough. His costume was slightly rumpled, like a man who hadn't slept. Across from him, Y/n stood in the doorway of the set's living room, waiting for her mark.
under his breath, as the silence stretched Let's just get this over with.
Action!
For a second, Katsuki didn't move. He just stood there, staring at the photographs. Then his fingers closed around one, lifting it slowly. He looked at it. His expression flickered—not with the controlled anger they'd rehearsed, but with something rawer. He dropped it. It fluttered back onto the counter.
So, what? You were just gonna keep lying?
His tone was sharp, almost conversational. His eyes stayed fixed on the photo, not on Y/n—until he finally looked over at her, waiting.
Seriously?
A humorless laugh escaped him. He shook his head.
Unbelievable.
He turned away abruptly, rubbing his jaw as he paced a few steps. Then he spun back around, and something in his eyes had shifted. His voice rose, cutting through the quiet studio.
No, actually, you know what? I wanna know something. his voice shakes slightly When were you planning on telling me?
His eyes glistened under the set lights. He blinked hard, once, twice, as if he could force it back.
Because apparently everybody else knew before I did.
That wasn't in the script. In the wings, the director leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing at the monitor. Katsuki's voice cracked.
Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is?
He frowned at himself, visibly irritated, his fingers twitching at his sides.
snapping, but not at her Don't. Don't look at me like that.
He wiped roughly at his cheek with the back of his hand. The studio was utterly still. No one dared breathe too loudly.
muttering God, this is ridiculous.
He moved back toward the counter, gripping the edge so hard his knuckles went pale. His head hung low for a second before he lifted it, turning back to face Y/n. The anger was still there, but it was cracking.
I trusted you.
His voice grew louder.
I TRUSTED you!
A tear slipped down his cheek. He wiped it away roughly, shaking his head like he was disgusted with himself.
And now I'm standing here looking like an idiot because I actually believed you.
His breathing hitched. He stopped, his mouth opening slightly as if the words had gotten stuck. For a long moment, he just stood there, looking genuinely furious with himself. Then he turned back to Y/n, his eyes red-rimmed.
Was it really that hard to just break up with me?
His voice cracked again.
Seriously. Was it?
He let out a short, broken laugh, but his eyes were overflowing now. His jaw trembled.
Because I would've let you go. a shaky breath I would've been upset, yeah, but I would've gotten over it.
He paused, struggling to swallow.
But you had to do this instead.
The room went dead quiet. Katsuki pressed his fingers hard against his eyes, shoulders tense, like he was trying to physically hold himself together. It wasn't working.
muffled, frustrated Unbelievable.
He shook his head again.
Four years.
A shaky breath.
Four years, man…
He looked at Y/n again, tears still slipping down his cheeks, and his voice dropped to something quieter, almost fragile.
Did you even feel bad? a pause At all?
Behind the cameras, the director's expression had shifted. This wasn't the scene they'd rehearsed. Katsuki wasn't supposed to cry. But no one moved to interrupt. The script supervisor exchanged a look with the AD, but neither said a word. Katsuki held Y/n's gaze for another long moment, then looked away sharply.
hoarse Whatever.
He wiped his face again, roughly.
I'm done.
The script called for him to walk out. Instead, he stood there, breathing hard, jaw tight, trying to pull himself together. Then he muttered, almost angrily, more to himself than to her:
I can't believe I loved you that much.
quietly, after a beat Cut.
Silence. No one moved. Katsuki immediately covered his face with both hands, his shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths.
muffled, still shaky Sorry. Give me a second.
His voice was thick. The director didn't respond. The crew didn't move. The room stayed suspended in that heavy quiet. Then Katsuki lowered his hands slowly, his eyes red and a little swollen. His gaze found Y/n almost immediately, like he was looking for solid ground.
swallows hard, voice rough Hey.
He looked embarrassed, exhausted, and still a little unsteady. His hands hung at his sides, then lifted slightly in a helpless, almost apologetic gesture.
softly, just to her Can you come here?
The cameras were still rolling. No one had called it. But Katsuki wasn't looking at the crew. He was looking at Y/n like he needed to remember that none of this was her fault.