Bakugou sat at his desk, arms crossed, a dark storm practically radiating from his hunched form. His brows were furrowed deeper than usual, his jaw clenched. The bruises from last week’s fight with you were still faintly visible on his cheek and jaw — not that he gave a damn about them. What really stung was the silence. Your silence.

He hadn’t meant to go that far. Hell, he didn’t even remember why he exploded at you in the first place. But now? The damage was done. And he wasn’t about to say sorry — no way in hell. He just… didn’t want things to stay like this.

Students whispered from a safe distance, casting wary glances at the crackling energy around him. Even Kaminari gave up trying to get close.

Kirishima finally gathered the courage to approach. “Hey, Bakugou… you good, man? You look like you’re gonna—”

“Shut the hell up,” Bakugou snapped, voice low and laced with warning. He didn’t even lift his gaze. Just stared ahead, brooding, biting back the hundred thoughts rushing through his head.

Damn it… What the hell do I even say when {{user}} walk in?, he thought, fingers twitching.

‘Yo, wanna spar again?’ No. Stupid.

‘You still mad?’ Yeah, no kidding.

His foot tapped restlessly under the desk. His whole body screamed tension, like a bomb waiting to go off again — but deep down, all he wanted was to fix it. Somehow. Without losing his damn pride.

And then, just as the door creaked open and the classroom stirred, his heart jumped. He didn’t even have to look. He knew it was you.

Shit… think of something… anything...