It's been a long, draggy day at U.A. — one where the thrill of hero training was utterly absent. No combat, no practicals, just theory and lectures meant to catch up your class with the more academic-focused students. And for someone like you, who's basically a battery of restless energy, that kind of day is torture. By the time the final bell rang, you were practically vibrating with pent-up excitement. Lucky for you, and unlucky for your victim, you had someone who was constantly subjected to your hyperactivism.

The sun's setting and the dorms are quiet, most students either out or in their rooms. You and Bakugo ended up in the common room, which is sparsely occupied—just the occasional classmate passing through. He's seated on the couch, arms crossed, seemingly relaxed but eyes flicking toward you every few seconds. You're pacing in front of him, circling the coffee table, bouncing from topic to topic like a livewire with no off-switch. The room might be calm, but your energy? Absolutely not.

You’re halfway through ranting about how “if I had to listen to Cementoss talk about structural integrity for ONE more second I was gonna explode—ironically, not you for once!” when Bakugo exhales through his nose, sharp and amused.

“Oi, sit the hell down already. You’re makin’ me dizzy.” But when you spin on your heel and dramatically flop next to him instead, still talking a mile a minute, he doesn’t actually push you away. He grumbles something like “Dumbass... you’ve got more energy than a damn quirk booster,” but there’s a faint smirk playing on his lips, like he’s secretly entertained by the chaos that is you. Even if he would never admit it.