Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 22

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I'd just like to start this chapter off by saying...

Look at this beautiful boy ⬇️

I saw it on Pinterest, it is not mine and the creator's name is on the photo

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I saw it on Pinterest, it is not mine and the creator's name is on the photo. But can we appreciate how great it is?

Thank you for your time. ☺️

The artist can message me if they want me to take it down!

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Life. Is. Shit.

You can say this for many reasons, but we're going to focus on your main issue right now. You got less than 30 minutes of sleep last night due to a stakeout mission with Keigo. By the time you got home on Saturday morning, it was already time for you to meet up with the squad for a group study session. It felt like reviving the dead as you flop on your bed only for your alarm to go off seconds later.

Needless to say, you broke the innocent alarm clock that was only doing what you set it to do.

So, you get ready as quickly as your tired body can before sprinting to the train station. Sero had offered to let everyone meet at his place to study so you have to take the train over to his area of Tokyo.

As you step on, you promptly take a seat and twist to stare out the window. Once the doors close and you start moving, the shaking of the train rocks you to sleep. Just as you're about to pass out, a finger firmly digs into the back of your shoulder. With a whine, you look up to get a glimpse of the asshole stopping you from sleeping.

Surprise, surprise when you look up to see Bakugo Katsuki towering over you with his resting gremlin face.

Of course you ended up on the same train.

"The fuck you think you're doing?" Bakugo asks, digging his finger into your back again.

You slap his hand away, flipping him off before turning back towards the window. You aren't capable of putting up with his bullshit right now. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the fucking bed," He grumbles, plopping into the empty seat on your left.

"Bold of you to assume I slept," You say back, voice hoarse.

Bakugo sends you a strange look, "Why didn't you sleep?" He asks with a listless voice. He probably doesn't care, just trying to make conversation to make it less awkward.

"Work."

"Dumbass."

You ignore his name-calling, turning so your back is to him and you can lay the side of your head against the window. The sudden jolting is uncomfortable, but you're so tired you don't even care. You allow yourself to be lulled into slumber by the rocking and fading voices of distant passengers.

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