how content someone like Izuku Midoriya was amidst the mess that was his first-year experience. He was luckier than most; he had both of his best friends from high school attending the same college as he was. Unfortunately, that didn't spare him any loneliness; as they were studying fundamentally different majors and minors, and were a part of different halls.

So, apart from odd coincidental meetups, or the occasional weekend coffee and catch-up, Izuku didn't see his friends often.

The first few weeks were spent in accordance with that notion, and he wasted no time to retreat to his dorm room as soon as his classes for the day were over. No socialization, no lingering, just solitude (which, as an anxiety-ridden introvert, the greenette enjoyed). In the comfort of his bed, he'd review his notes for the day before catching up on his favourite series or manga. Maybe he'd even paint if he felt like it.

This comfortable, three-week cycle broke abruptly one Thursday afternoon.

The students of the Introduction to Poetry course sat somewhat quietly in the air-conditioned classroom, waiting for their late lecturer. Izuku lightly tapped his pen on the desk impatiently.

The door opened, and the sound of heavy boots hit the floor.

The students who thought the person could've been their teacher mumbled in united disappointment before returning their attention to something else.

One gaze didn't leave the person, though.

Izuku found that he couldn't help but stare at the tall male, who still stood hesitantly at the door, almost as if he wasn't sure if this was his rightful class.

The male was sporting a long-sleeved black T-shirt with skulls on the sleeves, dark ripped skinny jeans, and stylish black combat boots. His blond hair was styled in fluffily- looking almost like spikes. His eyes were a bloody red, his skin was incredibly clear and even, and he had a permanent scowl etched into his handsome features.

Go away, gay thoughts, Izuku thought anxiously.

"You," the teen spoke up, his voice pleasingly raspy and deep.

Izuku jolted and glanced around. Was he talking to him?

"Yes you, dumbass," the blonde sighed in slight annoyance. "Is this LITS1001?"

"Y-yes," the greenette positively squeaked. The taller male continued to stare, inspecting Izuku's face absentmindedly- much to the latter's discomfort.

It was then Izuku noticed his small nose ring and silver helix piercing that shimmered under the lights.

"Katsuki, sit down," the lecturer, who'd finally arrived, said tiredly.

The newly dubbed Katsuki obeyed begrudgingly, choosing to slide into the seat right next to Izuku's.

Some of the other students eyed Katsuki warily, for a reason that was beyond the greenette.

"Sorry for being late, had to grab some coffee," Mr. Aizawa mumbled, the bags under his eyes prominent in his otherwise good looking features.

"Today we'll be talking about cultural differences in the poetic format. Or, in short: European poetry versus the 'exotic' or minorities," he air quoted the word exotic as he gave handouts to those in the front to pass around.

"Define 'exotic'," a student spoke up.

"Depends on what you define that as. For some, it's anything non-western or person of colour oriented. Caribbean poets, for example," The lecturer answered.

"Psst. Asparagus," Katsuki leaned towards Izuku discreetly. When Izuku turned his head, he almost jolted from how close their faces were.

Katsuki whispered. "Got a pen?"

A pen?

Oh.

"Yeah," Izuku replied, going into his bag to retrieve a pen before giving it to him.

Katsuki simply hummed and leaned back again.

As the blond fiddled with the pen between his fingers, Izuku noticed that his nails were painted black. His eyes moved up to the teen's face as he unknowingly admired his side profile. Katsuki's sharp jaw clenched a little as he somewhat aggressively chewed on...gum?

Izuku didn't realize he was staring at Katsuki until the latter mentioned it. "Hey, can you not?"

"Sorry." Midoriya's face reddened a little. He returned his attention to the paper in front of him. Aizawa spoke up again.

"I want you to do two things for me by our next class. First, do a close reading and analysis of this poem."

"What's the second thing?" Izuku asked.

"I want an original poem from you every week. Any format is accepted. I'll pair you guys up, and your piece is going to be analyzed by your partner," Aizawa announced, ignoring the mumbles that littered the space.

"I'll grade your works monthly, so don't slack off; not only on your poetic expressions but also on your skills of interpretation and analysis."

The tired-looking educator began his random pairing by looking at the class register.

"Neito and Mezo. Ibara and Juzo. Bakugou and Midoriya-"

"Bakugou?" Izuku muttered to himself.

"Wait, who's Midoryia?" Katsuki scowled.

Izuku jolted. "Me?"

Bakugou's upper lip curled in distaste. "You've got to be kidding."

Aizawa observed the interaction, but sighed and ignored it. "Kaminari and Shinso-"

"Oi! Why am I paired with this fucker?" Katsuki barked, his facial expression so intense and frightening to Izuku that he shrunk in his seat a little.

"Is that insult really necessary?" Izuku weakly retorted.

Katsuki ignored him. "I can't deal with this shit."

"Hey, watch your tone!" Izuku whisper-yelled, which was pointless since poor Aizawa was subjected to hearing it anyway.

"Oh, apologies. I can't deal with this shit, sir," Bakugou said sarcastically.

"Bakugou, you know I won't assign you to any of your friends. You can do this assignment, or fail. This makes up forty per cent of your grade, and I'm getting real sick of your bullshit," Aizawa shot back.

Izuku observed the interaction with concern but kept quiet. He'd never encountered this much excitement in years, and it made his head hurt.

Katsuki huffed stubbornly but didn't object further.

The clock hit 3:00 and Bakugou was the first to leave the room. Izuku hurriedly packed up his materials and hurried out too.

"H-hi," Izuku said, his thumbs twiddling idly as he followed Bakugou down the hall like a lost puppy.

"What?" The blond barked.

Midoriya flinched. "Um, I was wondering...if we could exchange numbers. That way, we can contact each other on when to meet up and stuff like that."

I actually spoke without stuttering! Izuku thought, his eyes wide and glued to the pavement.

"Fuck off, I'm not doing shit with you brat," Katsuki said simply, walking a tad faster as he did.

"How am I the brat here? I know you could probably care less about dropping out but I have to pass this class," Midoryia persistently followed. The exchange was starting to attract attention.

Katsuki stopped and turned around. His face was blank.

"Find another partner, asparagus."

And with that, he took off again.

Izuku's face was beet red- it was like the irritation pumped all the blood to his face.

___________