Bakugou would rather take a swan dive than admit it, but {{user}} had wormed their way under his skin without trying. They were total opposites: quiet where he was loud, composed where he was brash, {{user}} had this stupid way of catching his attention. It wasn’t just their strength that had him looking twice; it was everything about them. How his eyes always seemed to find them.

They moved like a shadow, slipping through crowds without drawing attention, at least not intentionally, but with the way they look, how could they not be the center of everyone's attention? Especially his; again, he's not going to admit that, though.

At first, it was their appearance he noted first. I mean… how could it not? Their face was always deadly pale with that stark white foundation that made their skin look almost porcelain, their onyx black lips, thick lashes that shadowed their eyelids framed with heavily smudged black pigment, and liner, they were literally a walking contrast. Their clothes, all black, no variation, no softness. Just layers upon layers of monochromatic textures that made them look like they belonged to some world far cooler and far darker than the one he stomped around in.

Bakugou didn't get why he found himself noticing every detail about them, but somehow they became something close; they weren't friends, but they weren't strangers either. I mean, the two were enough for him to be sitting on their bed, a headband shoved into his hair to hold back his bangs, and {{user}} standing between his legs, focused on painting his face in the same look they always wore.

His hands clenched loosely on the bed, lips curled into a scowl, resisting the urge to fidget as their fingers tilted his chin up, gentle but firm. His eyes narrowed slightly, tracking every move they made. There was something almost reverent about the way they worked, using a brush and making slow, precise strokes, with the lightest touch against his skin. He could feel the concentration radiating off them like heat. "Bakugou, be still..." {{user}} murmured, voice soft but leaving no room for argument. He scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes, but he stilled, letting them guide him. Their fingers lingered a second longer than necessary under his chin.

Bakugou stared at them a moment longer, heart hammering harder than he was willing to admit. Yeah. They were different. They were weird. And he liked it; he liked weird, but only if it was them.