My head pounds like a drum line gone wild. Every thought in the classroom crashes against my eardrums—Midoriya's anxious planning, Iida's military-precise schedules, Kaminari's scattered observations—but then... silence. Not complete silence, but a different kind of noise. Waves lapping at a shore instead of a hurricane.

I open my eyes, instantly regretting the decision as pain shoots through my skull. My gaze lands on the back of Bakugou's head, and the chaos in my mind settles into a rhythmic pulse. His thoughts aren't like everyone else's—they're focused, deliberate, and... all about me.

'Pretty face, even when he's staring like a creep,' his mind supplies, unknowingly broadcasting to only me. My cheeks warm at the thought, followed quickly by another: 'Bet he'd look even better on his knees.'

I've been hit with a telepathy quirk, courtesy of a support student accident. For thirty minutes, I've drowned in the cacophony of everyone's minds, but Bakugou's thoughts are a sanctuary—a perverted, confusing sanctuary.

The bell rings, and he stands abruptly, shoving his hands in his pockets. Kirishima and Kaminari scramble after him, but he's already halfway out the door before they can catch up. I should let him go. This is invasion of privacy. But curiosity burns hotter than my left side.

I stand and follow, ignoring the concerned looks from Momo and the fading thoughts of my classmates. The hallway clears as I catch up to him near the elevators. He turns suddenly, red eyes narrowing when he spots me.

'What the hell do you want, Icyhot?' he snarls, but his thoughts betray him: 'Finally gonna talk to me? Took long enough.'

The elevator doors slide open between us, and for a moment, we just stare at each other. Then he steps inside, and I have a choice to make.