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It was Kaminari’s fucking fault. And Mina’s.
Bakugou snarled and beat his fist against the heavy door a few times for good measure.
Fuck it, he’s throwing the sticky bastard and hard head in there too. They’re gonna get dead, too.
“That’s not helping.” The voice behind him grumbled. The harsh fluorescent lights in the hall bled through the cracks under the door, barely illuminating the outline of
Todoroki sitting on the floor. The glow highlighted the slight upturn of his lip, a look Bakugou learned meant disgust on his annoyingly stoic face. But whether the look was because of the harsh smell of cleaning chemicals in the closet or the angry inhabitant—that was something he couldn’t figure out.
Bakugou felt his own lip turn. He didn't fucking care either way.
“Yeah, cuz you’re doing so fucking much right now.” Bakugou huffed, setting his eyes back onto the definitely not moving door. “Useless bastard.” Bakugou didn't need to turn to know that Todoroki was scowling.
“You’re the one who doesn't want to break it open,” Todorki said, letting his head fall back onto the mop behind him. Bakugou bristled and bit his lip to keep from wheeling around to scream at the asshole.
“Because I’m not a fucking idiot who wants to get suspended or put in disciplinary classes.” Bakugou gritted out, his traitorous eyes sliding to watch the mismatched locks of hair fan out over Todoroki’s forehead. “Again.” Todoroki’s scowl grew, his mouth turning into a twisted pout. Bakugou wanted to punch himself as the words ‘cute’ crossed his mind.
The skin under his uniform shirt burned . He could feel the twisted heat at his ribs. The god-awful sensation half made him want to scream and half made him want to curl into the pretty boy’s side like a pathetic loser.
This.
This was the fucking problem. Bakugou thought as his fingers began to twitch towards his side. That stupid mark. Those stupid fucking things.
The reason they got into this mess.
Bakugou never understood it. They were branded into every form of media and the public consciousness. It affected everything from sports to hero work to politics, even though some folks don't admit that last one.
Birth Marks, Soulmate Marks, Brands, What The Fuck Ever. Everyone had a different title for it but the concept was the same. When a stupid kid is born, they will have a symbol somewhere on their body that is supposed to link them to some other person in the world.
Bakugou believed this much.
It was hard to argue with the near stabbing sensation that happened when the two-toned bastard so much as breathed near him. The thing that every person in the world got heated over was what it meant. There were no instructions for the damned things. In the past, it was who your true love was. Then who you were destined to marry. Then who you were most compatible with. Then—
Well, quirks changed the world in every way. And this was the one that Bakugou begrudgingly had to agree with.
That the marks just said who’s quirk you matched up with.
It made shit easier that way. Tons of people had matching marks and sure as hell didn’t look like soulmates. Bakugou grimaced as he looked at the door. Everyone knew that Rei Todoroki had a beautiful bonfire emblazoned on her hand, curling up from her ring finger. It was practically poetic in its scarlet glory.
And Bakugou found out how that story ended from behind a dusty corner at the sports tournament.
So that must be what it meant. It had to be. It made sense. He felt it during the attack on I-Island as if all his adrenaline was running from that one spot on his ribs as he stood back to back with Todoroki. He could feel its burn thrumming like a baseline under his skin when he threw his excess Nitroglycerine for him to ignite. Then its cold flash when he saw Todoroki’s smile on the roof.
It felt good. It felt right.
He hated it.
He knew Todoroki probably did too.
They’ve sparred together for months now, they’ve changed in the same locker room, and no one could miss the fireworks in their chest when they fought on I-Island.
But he never said anything. Bastard.
So when Kaminari got his head out of his ass and laughed giddily when he saw Todoroki shirtless after training he made a huge fucking fuss about it.
"Holy SHIT!” He yelled, grabbing Todoroki by the elbow and yanking it up. Kaminari was gesturing wildly at the bloom across an affronted-looking Todoroki’s side. It was a bombastic mark—it dominated most of his left side, curled against his ribs, and partially down his back as it wrapped against the soft pale muscle. It was an explosion, a twist of fire and smoke, oddly beautiful in its harsh contrast to the lithe form of its owner.
And it ended abruptly where the mark on Bakugou’s torso began.
Bakugou wished he put his damn shirt on sooner but Kaminari laughed louder and pointed, the eyes of the room followed his finger to Bakugou.
“Dude! Doesn’t it match you-”
Bakugou didn’t hear the end of it as he slammed out the door into the hallway, angrily yanking on his uniform shirt. Who cared if it matched the kaleidoscope of fire and ice on his right side. It didn’t change shit. He didn’t need someone’s quirk to make his stronger. It was bullshit.
Plus, Todoroki didn’t care either.
So it didn't fucking matter anyway.
But he still found himself getting ambushed by half of 1-A (and almost fucking won, by the way) and bound up in Sero’s tape and flung into a storage closet with an irritated-looking Torodoki who still hadn't moved from his spot on the floor.
“Can’t you call one of the teachers? Isn’t this like a fucking rule violation?” Bakugou said, scowling at Todoroki who just gave him a flat look in return.
“They took my phone. Just like I’m assuming they did yours?” He said to Bakugou’s angry huff.
“Fucking assholes.” He turned to the door and kicked it a few times for good measure. “You hear me!? Fucking ASSHOLES! All of you!”
“I thought you said you didn’t want to break it,” Todoroki said as Bakugou tried to ignore the notes of amusement in his voice.
“It’ll live.” He snarled and dropped to the ground, he’ll sit but he’s not gonna be fucking happy about it. “Janitor’ll probably be here in thirty.” He grumbled.
“I’m assuming that’s what the others were counting on.” Todoroki sighed. “But I dropped off some papers for Aizawa-sensei this morning to the office and saw the board. A lot of staff took today off because of the holiday.”
“Great.” Bakugou gritted out. “We could be here all damn night.”
“Possibly,” Todoroki said noncommittally. The same way he said everything.
Bakugou hated him.
So they sat in silence.
Five minutes passed. Ten minutes.
Todoroki’s pants made a shifting sound as he stretched his legs out.
Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes.
Bakugou sneezed.
Thirty minutes. Thirty-five.
Todoroki yawned.
Forty. Forty-five.
Bakugou wriggled his toes, trying to chase away the feelings of pins and needles.
Fifty. Fifty-five.
“God, I have to piss,” Bakugou grumbled. There was a short huff of surprised laughter. Closer than he expected. Bakugou squinted in the darkness, the hallway lights flickered out ages ago due to curfew and Todoroki was a quiet fucker. He was blind in this dark. A small part of himself was glad he got over his claustrophobia as a child, the darkness was damn near oppressive and the air was stale and unmoving.
“We should—”
Whatever Todoroki was about to say was cut off by the loud clattering of the lock, a rattling sound, and a near-deafening snap as the two boys stared at the door in shock.
And were quickly blinded by a flashlight being shined in their faces held by a nervous (normal) looking Deku and a constipated (normal) looking Iida.
“As class president, I must apologize for the behavior of-”
“Sorry! We didn't know about the jani-
Bakugou rolled his eyes and looked away from idiots tripping over their own apologies and started to shift his weight onto his cramped legs.
And froze as his heart lurched. Todoroki was much closer than Bakugou had anticipated, and the pressure on his ribs twisted as he saw his expression. Eyes just a fraction wider and mouth slightly opened. As close to ‘panicked deer-in-headlights' as possible for him.
And his hand was hovering just inches above from Bakugou's.
Like he was reaching for you. His traitorous mind supplied as he lept to his feet and marched out the door, ducking his head and making sure his shoulder slammed into Deku and the class president as hard as he was capable of.
“Whatever,” Bakugou snarled. The mark burned. It ached. He wanted to scream, but instead, he just raised his hand pointing at the three staring at him in various states of shock.
“Don't do that shit again.” He heard his voice say.
None of them knew who he was talking to.
Bakugou Katsuki wasn't sure himself.