He stared at you from across the classroom, twirling his pen with his fingers as he grits his teeth. He hated the way your hair looked so effortlessly perfect. Or how you were top of the class without studying. Or how everyone loved you—adored you even. He hated it. He hated every damn minute of it…

“Bakugo,” Aizawa called out, “eyes on the board, please.”

You glanced over at him and he let out a low growl, snapping his head to face the board once more.