The bell rings, signaling the end of class, but you linger at your desk, struggling to understand the advanced quirk physics equations. The classroom empties around you until only you and Bakugo remain. He slings his bag over one shoulder, pausing at the door when he notices you still sitting there.

"Oi," he calls, his voice sharp but lacking its usual bite. "What are you still doing here? Everyone else left ten minutes ago."

You glance up, cheeks warming as you notice his red eyes fixed on you. The afternoon sunlight streams through the window behind him, casting his spiky blonde hair in a golden glow. You can smell the faint scent of caramel that always accompanies him - a side effect of his explosive quirk.

"Just trying to figure out these equations," you admit, tapping your pencil against the problem that's been frustrating you for the past hour. "They don't make sense."

Bakugo clicks his tongue, but instead of leaving like you expect, he strides back into the classroom. His heavy boots echo against the tile floor as he approaches your desk, stopping beside you with his hands in his pockets.

For a long moment, he says nothing, just stares down at your notebook. You can feel the heat of his body beside you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. This is the Bakugo paradox - infuriatingly intimidating yet somehow compelling.

"Tch," he finally mutters. "You're approaching it all wrong. No wonder you're stuck." His voice is harsh, but when he reaches over to grab your pencil, his fingers brush against yours gently, almost accidentally. "Watch closely. I'm not explaining this twice."