"Pssst, Bakugou..!"
Red eyes shift towards his right, squinting the slightest bit with instinctive irritation as he locks onto the source of the attempted whisper. When his attention slips from where Aizawa is muttering apathetically about their assignment, Katsuki finds it's Kirishima who's pestering him, as usual. The other's eyes are shining with a mixture of things he can't quite understand, nor place- he's never been good at reading emotions. Body language, specifically the kind present during combat? Yes. Strategy? Yes. Anything other than physically conveyable rage? No. The statement had been quiet- well, as quiet as a loud mouthed spazz like him could muster, Katsuki figures.

Not quiet enough, however, as it still manages to garner attention; this becomes apparent as he sees the blonde behind Kirishima lean forward, his tell-tale grin pulling at his lips, honey-colored eyes gleaming with curiosity. They're both staring at him now, dumb, dopey smiles on their dumb, dopey faces. Once again, Katsuki finds, he's annoyed. He's not sure if it's the fact that Kirishima sucks so much shit at whispering, or whether it stems from Kaminari's stupid face, but it's a tolerable annoyance- the both of them. Kirishima more so than Kaminari, but in the end he can inwardly admit he considers them...close acquaintances. Maybe friends? They were the only ones who really spoke to him outside of class, the only ones who (aside from Ashido and Sero) he could stand- yeah, whatever, they were friends-

"Why do ya hate Midoriya so much?" He bristles. Nevermind. Not friends. Definitely not fucking friends.
The hand he'd been resting his chin on absentmindedly beforehand slams down onto the surface of the desk, cool against his heated fingertips. How fucking dare this idiot ask him a question like that.

"What the FUCK is it to YOU, huh?!" He snaps, eyes sparking to life as anger pools in his veins. Kirishima isn't fazed, though, and that annoys him even fucking more. His smile unfaltering, the red head closes his eyes and puts his hands up in a gesture of defense.

"Whoa, no needa get so hostile! He's not even here!"
"Yeah, he went to go, like, pee or something!" Kaminari chimes in, causing Katsuki's glare to shift from Kirishima to him instead. The way the other squirms under his fiery eyes appeases his pride for a moment, however brief it may be. Katsuki knows that. He knows Deku went to the bathroom a minute or two ago; 'Deku.' The name leaves a bad taste in his mouth even when he simply thinks about it.

"Just 'cause that shitrag ain't here doesn't mean I wanna fuckin' talk about him," Katsuki grits out, volume more subdued than before after the first outburst got him a couple stares; not that he cares. Their judgement means less than literal garbage to him, the only look he cares about being Aizawa's agitated one. He knows better than to pick a fight with that dry-eyed fuck, though that sure as hell doesn't mean the urge isn't present.

"And don't you ever go putting your dumbass words in my mouth again, hair-for-brains!" He can see the retort forming on Kirishima's tongue, but right as it does the door slides open and in pops a splash of green. 'Deku.' He thinks bitterly, and he can once again taste the way it feels on his tongue as he contemplates saying it. Katsuki's jaw clenches as he practically rips himself from the position he's in, turning away from both Kirishima and Kaminari in order to face the front of the room again. Crimson eyes lock onto the board, and he steels himself in order to keep from looking at the broccoli haired fuck that just walked in. He will not look. Izuku closes the door behind him. He will not look. He hears the way his feet lightly shuffle back towards the row they sit in. He will not look- his eyes betray him for next thing he knows he throws a side eyed glance towards Izuku as the boy steps past him, and is mildly surprised to find his eyes lock with Deku's own. The surprise in his gaze burns up quickly enough, however, glare narrowing as he sneers at the other.

"What are you staring at, hah?! Sit down, shitty Deku!" The exclamation causes Aizawa's apathetic gaze to dart over to the pair, which quiets the class in the process, and makes Izuku's face contort in a manner where Katsuki knows he's trying to fight the urge to blurt apologies. He'd been doing that, as of late- growing a pair. Or at least trying to; becoming less apologetic and, frankly, less of a pussy too. A lot of things had been changing about Deku, he notes- he was less skittish, happier, more confident- thanks to everyone in this room except Katsuki himself.

That irritated him.

"Bakugou, hallway." The monotonous demand snapped his gaze from Izuku's apprehensive face towards the board, where Aizawa stood with a finger pointed towards the door.
Suddenly that ugly anger reared its head, causing him to lurch forward and to his feet, both hands planting violently onto the desk with explosive speed.

"WHY?! Because Deku's taking his sweet fucking time getting his ass to his chair?! He-" He feels a hand- no, Deku's hand- hovering slightly adjacent to his shoulder, as if he'd almost placed it on him. "K-Kacchan, please don't make Aizawa angry.." It's a soft request, pleading and gentle but it stabs Katsuki right in the pride and he feels a roar of retaliation barrel through his body.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING TO, SHITNERD?! I'LL KILL YOU-" A sigh. A sudden force restraining his arm, the one he almost threatened to launched at Izuku's face. "Stop acting like a child and blaming others for your disruptive behavior. Either sit down, or get out. I don't care which." He feels his lips curl into a toothy snarl, feels the blood pumping through his veins, feels the ire exploding through his body; telling him to turn around and sucker punch Deku out of his fucking life.
But he also feels the bindings wrapped around his arm, hears the word "childish" rumbling through his skull, and ultimately he chokes down the tidal wave of trash he was about to talk. Opting instead for breathing raggedly as he forces the tension in his arm to settle. Yet, the moment Aizawa's wraps loosen their grip he's stomping towards the door.

He can't do this shit today. Can't deal with Aizawa. Can't deal with Deku. Can't deal with that stupid fucking question Kirishima asked him. Not to-fucking-day.

As the door slams shut and his fist makes contact with the wall opposite of the classroom Katsuki feels like he can finally breathe again for the first time since Izuku walked into the room. The sting in his knuckles mixes with the burning heat in his hand and he finally feels the anger bubble in his core- no longer exploding through his every nerve and he wonders if it's because that punch was meant for Deku. Wonders if his body craves to cause his childhood friend pain. The bell rings. Movement catches his eye- there's a window mere inches from his fist and when he stands back from the wall, breaking the soothing contact of his skinned knuckles against it, what's left staring back at him are the passing figures of his classmates as they head to lunch. Just as he doesn't miss the weary glances thrown his way, he also doesn't miss that Izuku comes out last, with two bags rather than one. Katsuki doesn't turn around to face him- he can't. He can't knowing that anger is once again churning in his gut and that makes him even angrier- since when has he ever been hesitant when it comes to anything regarding that shitnerd? Never. Never and it wasn't gonna start fucking now.

But before he can turn around he watches Izuku's reflection as he quietly places the bag down behind him. When he stands up again Katsuki can see the pull of his lips as if he's going to say something, can see the way Izuku's hand begins to reach out to him, and for a moment Izuku's mouth opens. For a moment, Katsuki holds his breath, afraid of breaking the thick air of something that hangs between them; yet his body does not still completely, fingers twitching as he braces for contact. Izuku catches it- eyes darting to Katsuki's tensed shoulders, before running down the length of his arm to look at the semi-clenched fist at the blonde's side. That something between them breaks. The words sitting on the tip of Izuku's tongue never come, and he watches the way those green eyes fall. He practically feels the way Deku's demeanor shrinks, mouth closing silently into a thin lipped frown as he looks dejectedly at the ground. Hand dropping back to his side he watches as Izuku slowly turns and leaves, walking down the corridor to the cafeteria.

Disgusting.
Pathetic.
Worthless.

Red eyes peer back at him in the window. For once, he's not sure if those words are directed at Deku.

(They're not.)