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Bakugo pov
Walking was one thing, sprinting was another. I caught myself, hands on knees, huffing endlessly as a lump in my throat formed. I can't be late again.
Pushing my way through a flock of arms and shoulders, I made it to a classroom I recognised as History. School was always in the way of my life, exams and homework flooding my schedule. I hated it.
Without realizing I was mumbling to myself, I caught an adult sizing me up. At least, that's what I thought was happening, until I realized I was in a room full of kids retaking their history test. Right. That's what I was here for, a stupid test made for a stupid grade.
"Well, are you going to," the teacher asked expressly, nodding to a lonely seat, "sit and continue your exam?" All I could do was return the blank expression scribbled all over the teacher's old, expired face as I hurried my way to the seat. Nothing like a test on a Thursday, a day I could've used to see Teriyaki.
Thinking about him made me shudder, the way his limber body attracted my eyesight, the way his fingertips were hard with experience. Watching him play the guitar was mesmerizing, even now I can hear the notes of a jovial tune replay in my head.
I could feel my lips curl into a pleasing smile before I caught myself, sighing knowing I couldn't let anyone grasp that I, the star football player, was fawning over someone.
