𝗨𝗡𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗬 𝗕𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗬

003. 𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗣𝗬 𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗬

Her room reeked of jasmine. Denser in the center of her space her bed was still unmade, curtains half drawn and her worn clothes thrown on her stool, she sat down on the comfy mattress, drawing out a relieved sigh as she inspected her messy zone.

Suddenly standing up to view the book she'd thrown on her study table, she picked it up, She hadn't noticed it before but his notebook oddly smelled like caramel, a little bit of burnt sugar, and an unidentified fragrance she couldn't pinpoint, was it apples? Or perhaps it was a men's cologne. Did he especially scent it for her? Seemed like it.

Seeing her phone she instantly kept it back in its original position, interested in checking on the latest news about recent incidents, unfortunately, as soon as she opened it, she saw a lot of messages on her insto and reluctantly decided to hold off her mundane endeavor.

As she tasks herself to answer, she finds a few accounts of her classmates, and then it leads to her curiosity heightening and ripening, perceiving their cringe profile and caption, description, in the end, she manages to unearth one shocking discovery.

Her bully had an account.

She couldn't negate the familiarity between him and her hypersensitive torturer, it had to be him, no posts were made just a simple deposition to show his personality, she wanted to bet his side-bubbies did this for him, but there was always a possibility of it being a copycat account. Most of her classmates were following him, except her, and her online friends.

Maybe he was dared to make an account- there's no way he did it out of his own will.

KATSUKI BAKUGO IS NOW FOLLOWING YOU. 1 SEC AGO.

Her eyes grow wide.

She receives the notification before a request to message, she wildly couldn't approve his follow petition, she could block him. Even if that sounds harsh, he's committed worse.

Sadly for her, he is just going to afflict her more misery if she doesn't.

His proclamation reads, 'Follow me back loser, you don't forget to bring my notebook tomorrow if you don't return it, I'm going to kill you.' He cared more about his paper tablet than her feelings.

She stiffly hovers over the button, her thumb slightly trembling, stare trained on the smirking face of her bully, his picture confirmed it.

It was him.

Hesitantly her fingers tapped on the letters, erasing her sentence twice, rephrasing it properly in case he assumed it wrongly, the entire time, she didn't realize she was holding her breath and chewing on her lips, reading her memo thrice, she sent it.

She accepted to follow him back and then blacklisted him. She couldn't see his messages and it was better that way.

Besides, not that he will care.

About to retire from her device to freshen up, disregard, and forgive, she gets an unknown call she immediately rejects it, standing up to close her curtains. It was likely just a bogus call.

Now adorned in soft clothes, she plops on her chair, her phone on mute, prepared to relax and binge-watch videos, but her mother shouting for her presence downstairs had compelled her to put her idea on wait again. She internally groans, carrying herself towards her mother's voice.

She retreated to her dull space after a tough while had breezed by, mildly annoyed but still had a soft tint in her eyes, grabbing her gadget to take pictures of her bully's notes since she didn't feel like writing and it was impossible to jot it down in a single day, she could print it out the next morning before school. She opened the slab, gently turning the papers and observing his rather neat handwriting, too elegant for a fella like him. She was astonished.