(( @ask-kingexplodo ))
Hitoshi grumbled under his breath, recalling the events of the cafe as he ambled down the hall down to lunch. His eyebrows furrowed. Why was that bright-eyed, red-haired class 1-A student able to remain so close to Katsuki without any detestful glares that Hitoshi had always obtained? And why did it seem that the blond seemed to prefer Kirishima’s presence over his? Not that he minded Kirishima, of course. He was a good person, and an individual he would not mind calling his friend. Despite this... Running his fingers through his hair, these thoughts raced through his mind in an indeterminable fog. He snapped out of this state when he spotted the ever-memorable mess of hair that could stand out in any crowd, regardless of how thick the masses were. To no surprise, he was with Kirishima. Irritated, he stormed over, his expression more than sufficient enough for him to clear a path in the sea of people like Moses. Without so much as a word, the tall male grabbed Katsuki by the arm and jerked him to follow him into one of the less crowded hallways. He ignored the explosively loud comments from the red-eyed male, determined to get a word in with him before the end-of-lunch bell resounded through these halls.
As soon as they had entered an appropriate hallway, he released his grip on Katsuki’s arm. “I don’t see what you see in Kirishima, Bakugo,” he hissed bluntly, his eye practically twitching as his hands curled into tight fists. He would not allow for him to be interrupted. He had intel he was determined to obtain, and no amount of Katsuki’s mindless blubbering was going to deter him from his mission. Whatever this boiling in his blood meant, he didn’t care. He had to know.