"Love was so fucking cringey until I met you."
You and your delinquent brother had been "troubled" kids, since the very beginning of it all.
Before things got bad; and, before things got good.
Constantly wreaking havoc just for the fun of it, lea...
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It was lunch time at U-A high.
Luckily for you, the hero course students had been given a private cafeteria for when they eat lunch as to not be disturbed by the other students.
One notable thing you were fond of at U-A, was the gourmet food available for anyone who wanted it. Such as your—angry little—self.
The first few lessons of the day went smoothly. Slowly, achingly slow, but smooth, nonetheless. The kids chose to keep their distance from you which was to your extreme liking—as Aizawa had a long chat with the entire year the night prior; alerting them of things they all might benefit in knowing about you.
It did piss you off to know that they were talking about you, though.
Through the day, you had sat nonchalantly in your newly assigned table, and clicked your pen repeatedly, or burnt your distinguished graffiti tag into the table with the tip of your pinkie finger.
You know - bad girl things.
There were multiple cases in which dumb blonde from the day before had been caught staring at you. He would always look away, after you childishly cocked your head forward in fabricated intimidation, or simply grinned back, projecting confident torment.
There was one time, in the middle of Math's specialists, when you waved at him sarcastically, with a snake-like rope of black fire circling your hand and intertwining with your fingers.
He couldn't work you out.
It was pissing him off.
Not long after the dismissal bell rang, you headed to the cafeteria—as instructed strictly to do—and found the most isolated table you could. You were mostly in triumph when you found a four person booth at the very back.
(It would be a good note that everyone in the level was just waiting for Bakugou to snap and go full-out on you for humiliating him.They thought he was plotting.)
Ten minutes later, and the rest of the students had folded into the room, bought their food and taken their seats. You were glad they got the hint not to sit with you—and you were happily alone.
You let your head fall into your arms, resting with little-to-none posture and slumped in rest, on the table.
You close your eyes and simply focus on your unhitched breathing, as you breathed into the small space your crossed arms had created.
