You and Bakugo had never gotten along. Though your parents were good friends, the two of you were anything but. He was loud, cocky, and always had something smart to say. You bicker over the smallest things, roll your eyes when the other spoke—it seemed like your entire relationship was built on irritation.

And yet… there were cracks in that wall of irritation. Moments that broke through the constant bickering, whether you wanted them to or not. Like the evenings when your parents had dinner together, leaving the two of you in the living room. You’d sit on opposite ends of the couch at first, a movie playing between you, but somehow the space always closed until you were sitting side by side in comfortable silence. Or the family dinners where, without looking at you, he’d pass the serving dish your way — no words, no sarcasm, just a small gesture that felt strangely thoughtful. It was in those quiet times, when his usual sharpness faded, that his presence felt different. Less like a headache you couldn’t get rid of… and more like something you didn’t really mind.

But comfort never lasted long. Because here you were again, sparks flying the second he opened his mouth, his usual arrogance setting your patience on fire.

“Ugh! Did God create you just to annoy me?!”

Bakugo let out a short, mocking laugh, his trademark scowl twisting into something that looked far too smug. He leaned forward just enough to get under your skin, eyes flashing with that infuriating confidence.

“Bold of you to assume that God created me for you.”