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Bakugou had never wanted to fail a test before. He was a straight-A student, top of the class. He excelled in everything he did with ease.
He really, really didn’t want to excel at this.
Let this be the one test in my life I flunk, he pleaded silently.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t that sort of test. Everyone passed this one, even the biggest freaking idiots around. You turned 19, you went to the government lab, you got some blood drawn, you answered some questions.
You got assigned a soulmate.
It was supposed to be the biggest breakthrough of the century: finally cracking the code behind romantic compatibility. Some lonely dweeb in a lab had come up with a way to tell if two people were well-matched for each other. Divorce rates had plummeted. The dwindling population bounced back. Society’s entire concept of love and relationships shifted. Now you didn’t need to worry about finding the one. Old Uncle Sam would do it for you, and everyone could have their happy ever after.
Bakugou didn’t want a happy ever after. He still couldn’t put words to it, but somehow the idea made his skin crawl. He wanted to finish university and he wanted to design rockets and he wanted to spend his nights drinking fancy cocktails in a classy penthouse suite with a view and there wasn’t room in his vision of the future for a soulmate.
“All right, this next part might pinch. Just relax okay?” the nurse said, cheerful as ever.
Bakugou didn’t even flinch as the needle probed him. Face practically folded in half in a deep scowl, he watched blood fill the vial and cursed whatever idiot though that life should end at 19. Granted, many couples didn’t get married right after getting matched. It was still acceptable to go through a courting process, take some time to test the system, see if destiny really was coded in the DNA. Eventually, though, everyone ended up with their soulmate.
“How long do I have?” Bakugou asked.
With a giggle, the nurse replied, “Impatient, are we?”
More like wondering how much time I have left before everything ends.
“Well, if your soulmate is already in our system, the results will come back in as little as a couple of days!”
Bakugou’s stomach plummeted.
“But if your soulmate hasn’t turned 19 and had their test done yet, you’ll need to wait for that to happen.”
Maybe I’ll get lucky and my soulmate is some little kid, and I still have another decade left before we get matched.
That idea was more concerning than comforting. Dealing with someone else crowding up his life was bad enough, but if he was old enough to have to be a parent figure on top of it? Bluh. What Bakugou really hoped for was no soulmate at all. There was nothing he could do to influence the results, so he bid the nurse goodbye. All that was left to do was wait.
Bakugou waited a long time. A week became a month became three, and the dread in his stomach dissipated little by little. Maybe he would never find his soulmate. Maybe he was an anomaly, the only person in the world without an other half. Wouldn’t that be nice?
So he went about his business, watching the seasons change and throwing himself into his work. Maybe once in a while he felt pangs of loneliness, but they weren’t the sharp rose thorns of lovesick winding around his heart. They were a cold seat on the couch, a refrigerator full of leftovers that he couldn’t eat by himself. A sense that once in a while on the weekends it would be nice to unwind with somebody. Unfortunately, he was at the age where all his friends were preoccupied with soulmates of their own. Nowadays, a person’s early twenties were known as their “puppy love” days. Everyone shelved friendship until their early thirties, after they’d glutted themselves on a decade of sweet nothings. So right now Bakugou was in limbo, the only sock in the drawer without a match.
He didn’t want a soulmate, but sometimes it would be nice to have a friend or two. One that didn’t have their head up their ass with all this romance stuff. But. He'd take loneliness over… that mushy stuff. Right now, things were okay. He could live like this. Things were fine.
His equilibrium was shattered early the next year. He got a packet in the mail, thick manilla and official seal.
Please be jury duty, he thought to himself as he tore into it.
No such luck. The note read, Congratulations! Your soulmate has just been found. Below is the contact details for your new love!
His eyes skimmed over the details. Birthday: Jan 11. That explained why he was just receiving this now. A boy, enrolled in a university across town. He could hop on a train and be there in half an hour.
He did no such thing. Crumpling the letter into a craggy ball, he slam dunked it into the wastebasket. It wasn't like the government could force him to meet this Shouto Todoroki. Probably. He'd actually never heard of anyone refusing to meet their soulmate. Like most of Katsuki's life, he didn't fit into the standard slots. Too independent, too stubborn.
Broken, a voice in the back of his head whispered. There must be something wrong with you.
Bakugou stuffed the noise down, drowned it out with work as he'd done most of his life. Time passed with the same tense impending doom as the countdown timer on a bomb. He kept waiting for it all to come crashing down. It didn't.
A week and no word from this other man. Surely he'd gotten a letter, too. Maybe he was as incurious as Bakugou about his government ordained heartthrob (Ha! What a joke! Of course Bakugou was curious about what this person was like. He was just determined not to admit it to himself), or maybe he was waiting for Bakugou to make the first move. He'd be waiting a long time.
Bitter winter winds gave way to the constant patter of spring showers. Bakugou exchanged scarf and gloves for umbrella and tall boots, sloshing through puddles on his way to school. It was on a particularly soggy grey day that it happened. He was on his way home, trekking through waterlogged streets, thinking about the Tupperware full of leftover curry waiting in the fridge.
Sitting on the steps outside his apartment was a figure dressed in a grey windbreaker, looking sodden and sullen on his stoop. They didn't usually get homeless in these parts, and as Bakugou approached he slowed his gait. The splish of his steps must have given him away, because the figure looked up.
It was a man his age, features mismatched, lip split and one eye swollen shut.
"Hey," the figure said, observing him for a moment, "are you Katsuki Bakugou?"
"Who wants to know?" Bakugou asked. In his mind, he was already taking inventory of the medical supplies he had stashed in his apartment. That eye looked bad. Maybe the discoloring was a scar that had been there before? Or maybe he needed to call a hospital.
The man reached into his windbreaker and pulled out a frumpled piece of paper, blackened around the edges like it had survived a wildfire. He held it out to Bakugou, letting him catch a flash of the contents.
Congratulations! Your soulmate has been-
"No," Bakugou breathed.
“I’m Shouto,” the man introduced himself. “I’m your soulmate. I just ran away from home. Can I stay here?”
The first order of business was a warm bath. Apparently Shouto had been crouching on his stoop for a couple hours, and his cruddy little windbreaker hadn’t done much to keep him dry. After that it was patching up wounds. Bakugou wanted to take him to a doctor, but the boy balked, the look on his face one of horror so deep Bakugou chose to give in rather than stress him out further. He insisted the eye wasn’t that bad, that it was just a black eye, filtered deep purple under a preexisting scar. He also insisted on taking care of his wounds himself, cloistering himself in the bathroom with the first aid kit and refusing any help.
Of course Bakugou’s soulmate would be a stubborn ass.
Soulmate. Bakugou had a soulmate and he was here, and he wanted to stay here. It was like a surreal dream, not quite a nightmare, just strange and unsettling.
Bakugou did not want a soulmate. However, how could he turn away this boy, bleeding and shivering on his step?
“You hungry?” Bakugou asked when the boy finally stepped out of the bathroom.
Shouto looked at the carton in Bakugou’s hands, as if afraid it contained something that might bite him.
“It’s curry,” he said defensively.
“I… I’m okay.”
“Suit yourself.”
Bakugou bustled around the kitchen, preparing his meal and doing his best to ignore his unexpected guest. As weird as this whole situation was, he wasn’t going to let it get to him. Shouto could crash here for a while, that was fine, but he wasn’t going to… act like they were lovers or something.
His thoughts were interrupted by a protracted snarl from Shouto’s stomach. When Bakugou turned to look at him, he crossed his arms, suddenly growing very interested in the wallpaper. He hadn’t bothered to sit down, was standing in the middle of the room like a baby chick looking for its mother.
“You sure you’re not hungry?”
Still not meeting his gaze, Shouto nodded his head. Bakugou just sighed, retrieving another bowl from the cupboard and spooning curry into it. He popped both bowls in the microwave and leaned back against the counter while they warmed up. He took this opportunity to get in another cram session of studying Shouto.
The boy was tall and lean, but it was hard to tell with the way he hunched in on himself. He’d had plenty of time to warm up by now, was dressed in a dry set of clothes from Bakugou’s closet. The black tank hung loose on him, his chest not as wide as Bakugou’s, and the sweats ended a good inch above his ankles. He looked so young. He had turned 19 only a couple months ago, was almost a full year younger than Bakugou, but he looked even younger than that. Maybe it was the round cast of his cheeks. Or maybe it was the way he looked completely lost and scared.
The microwave beeped, and Bakugou transferred the bowls to the table.
“Eat,” he ordered, gesturing to the spare seat and the food placed in front of it.
“I… don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s leftovers. I’m sick of eating them anyways.”
Cautiously, Shouto slid into the seat. He poked at the food with his spoon, searching Bakugou’s face for a reaction. The one he got was a roll of the eyes.
“Look, what exactly do you plan to do if you don’t eat my food? You got any money to buy your own?”
Shouto flinched, looked down at his knees and said, “I’m going to get a job at a convenience store or something. I’ll start work as soon as possible.”
“All right. But in the meantime, you gotta eat, don’t you?”
The argument was enough to win him over, and Shouto picked up the spoon and hesitantly began to put food into his mouth. Bakugou let him get a reasonable amount in before the interrogation began.
“So what’s the real story behind your injuries?” he asked. “Running away from home? Aren’t you an adult? You can leave home whenever you want.”
“It’s a long story.”
“One that I think I deserve to know if you’re staying in my house.”
Shouto hunched further down in his seat, poking forlornly at his bowl of food. They sat like that for a long time, but Bakugou didn’t take his eyes off the other man. Finally his stony silence forced the truth out.
“My dad is… controlling. If he knew where I was, he’d try and get me back. He has a lot of influence, you know.”
Bakugou didn’t know. He quirked one eyebrow, and Shouto continued.
“Enji Todoroki? He’s a politician?”
Oh.
“I’m not going to be charged with kidnapping or something, am I?” Bakugou asked.
“No. I- that’s why I thought it would be safe here. He wouldn’t dare take me away from my soulmate. That would undermine everything his party upholds.”
Shouto explained to him that his father was one of the strongest proponents of the Soulmate System. There had been pushback when government arranged marriages had first been introduced, but these days it was mostly taken for granted. However, some parties were advocating for even greater power, demanding that soulmates not be mere suggestions, but requirements. Apparently Enji Todoroki’s own marriage was through the Soulmate System, and he had used the science behind it to overrule his wife’s demands for divorce. Divorces were rare nowadays, and practically impossible to get if you were married to your soulmate. After all, if you couldn’t make it work with them, who could you make it work with?
“Dear old dad spent years claiming that love was an artifact of a bygone era, and that the new system was a formulaic guarantee of creating the strongest bloodlines. He was so sure I’d get matched up with some genius and create a superbaby. Then he found out it was another guy and I wouldn’t be having any biological children, and he was furious.”
He pulled out his slip of paper again, waving it in Bakugou’s face so he could see the charcoal-crisp edges.
“He tried burning it, but I snatched it out of the fire. Heh. He’s been working behind the scenes to try and covertly get me a retest. What a hypocrite. Spends years preaching that people shouldn’t have a say who they spend their lives with, that if science says you should be married to an abusive asshole that must be your fate, but then he goes and tries to tamper with the results of his own son’s test because he wants grandkids.”
Shouto let out a series of humorless chuckles, clutching at the left side of his face.
Maybe your dad was right. The tests had to be screwed up to give you a soulmate like me.
“So what do you plan to do now?” Bakugou asked.
“Like I said, I’ll find a job. Save up money to move far away. In the meantime, I don’t think he’d dare split us apart. It would cause too much of a scandal.”
So I’m his cover story. Okay. I can live with that.
“Thank you for doing this… Katsuki,” Shouto said, trying the sound of the name in his mouth. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I- I’ll do what I can to make it up to you.”
Bakugou scoffed and shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t need payback from a pampered brat like you. Just… don’t expect any of that mushy soulmate crap from me, okay?”
At this, a little of the tension washed out of Shouto’s shoulders, his body slackening from the stranglehold of stress.
“Yeah. That sounds good.”
Shouto did good on his word not to get in Bakugou’s way. His presence was practically undetectable in the apartment, only a few tell-tale traces here and there, such as an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, a backpack tucked behind the couch. Those first few days Bakugou barely saw him, as he also kept to his promise of searching for a job. By the end of the week, he was working the early morning shift as a dishwasher for the local diner. It was a decidedly unprestigious job for the son of a high-profile politician. However, if Shouto had any complaints, he kept them to himself.
He kept a lot of things to himself. The kid was withdrawn, barely speaking, spending what little time they occupied the same space in silence. On one hand, Bakugou was absolutely relieved that the man didn’t demand affection or sweet nothings or… all that other stuff. However, the presence of a miserable, tense roommate was kind of a buzzkill.
“Do you play video games?” Bakugou asked one night after dinner.
Shouto looked up at him, surprised.
“No. I was never allowed to.”
“Hm. Well, you’re learning how to. Now.”
And he thrust a controller into his hands and coerced him into being his number two. Predictably, he was absolutely awful. Unpredictably, he smiled during the process. An actual smile on his dour features. It made Bakugou warm in parts of him he hadn’t realized were cold.
There were other things. Shouto insisted on helping around the house. He was shit at most of it, and Bakugou had to teach him. But the kid was such an eager student, eating up all his instructions with a sort of rapt attention Bakugou had never received from anyone before. Instead of mocking Bakugou’s need for order, he rose to the challenge.
Things were better with him around. It shouldn’t have been a shock. After all, Bakugou had known he was lonely. What he hadn’t known was just how perfect Shouto fit all the holes he hadn’t noticed were there. He wasn’t needy or clingy, didn’t yammer Bakugou’s ear off. But he had plenty of dry quips, the perfect dash of humor added here or there to diffuse tension. He was careful and thoughtful in a way Bakugou wasn’t, often forced him to slow down when he wanted to rush ahead.
They were perfectly matched. That didn’t change the fact that Bakugou didn’t love him. He liked Shouto, was begrudgingly willing to admit that he cared about his well being. But. Bakugou didn’t do love.
“Do you believe in soulmates?” he asked Shouto one night. They were playing a round of cards together, kicking back after their respective days of work.
“You mean the Soulmate System?” Shouto asked, not looking up from his hand of cards. Kid had a perfect poker face. “No. Maybe it works for some people, but… I’ve seen it fail firsthand. I know the damage it can do when you let an algorithm dictate someone’s life.”
He was talking about his parents. Bakugou had gathered bits and pieces from him, drawing the truth out of him detail by painful detail. If anyone had reason to doubt the system, it was Shouto.
“Not just that government propaganda,” Bakugou elaborated. “I mean like the concept in general. Do you think there’s a such thing as two people… being made for each other? Perfect in every way?”
This finally got a crack in the flat granite facade, a waver between his eyebrows.
“I’m not sure. I don’t… think much about love.”
“Guess we have that in common,” Bakugou said.
This evoked a small smile from Shouto, but then he was back to poker face.
He wiped the floor with Bakugou that game.
“I should be ready to move out soon,” Shouto informed him one day. They’d been living together for months now, and the announcement was as unexpected as snowshowers in July.
“What?” Bakugou asked, pausing his pasta stirring duties to gape.
“Yeah. I sent in my passport application, and I have enough money saved up. My sister lives overseas. She said she could take me in. I’ll be out of my father’s reach there.”
“Oh.”
Bakugou turned back to the boiling pot, the churning noodles swirling around each other like fish at feeding time. They hadn’t ever talked about Shouto’s long-term plans, other than they involved going away somewhere when he had money. That was vague enough that Bakugou assumed it would take forever.
“I want to thank you again for your hospitality,” Shouto said. “You didn’t have to take me in. But… you did. And even if I think the system is bogus… I’m glad you’re the doorstep I ended up on.”
Bakugou opened his mouth to say something, but there was a lump in his throat, a boa constrictor of nerves around his vocal chords. He still couldn’t look away from his boiling pot.
Finally he managed to choke out, “It’s going to be quiet with you gone.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize I was noisy.”
“You aren’t,” Bakugou snarled. Sometimes Shouto could be so dense. It was frustrating. Endearing, but frustrating. “I just meant I’ll miss having someone around.”
When he didn’t get a reply, Bakugou dared to turn around. Shouto was frowning down at the sudoku puzzle he had been working on. However, Bakugou could tell he wasn’t really seeing it. He had that thousand yard stare he got when he was thinking too hard about something best left to rot.
“I’m sorry you got assigned me as a soulmate,” Shouto replied. “You might be able to ask for a retest after I abandon you. They don’t like to advertise it, but sometimes things go wrong and-”
“I don’t want a replacement,” Bakugou snapped. He turned the burner off with a vicious twist of his wrist, left the noodles stewing past al dente. “Hell, I never wanted a soulmate in the first place. I’m not built for that lovey dovey bullshit. But I- I don’t know! I guess I like having you around, and I don’t see what the rush is to move out!”
He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, to betray that much emotion. But there it was, ugly and raw for the whole world to see. But Shouto was there too, placing his hands on Bakugou’s shoulders and looking him in the face. Those mismatched eyes didn’t get any less strange the longer he was exposed to them, but they were captivating to look at.
“I don’t know exactly what you want, but I don’t think I’m the right person to give it to you,” Shouto told him, staring levelly into Bakugou’s eyes. “At least, not in any way that matters. After seeing everything my mom went through, I don’t want to be in any relationship, least of all one picked out by that damn system.”
So that’s it, then? The one person I can stand doesn’t want to be with me because of the same system that put us together?
“What if I… didn’t want a relationship?” Bakugou asked. “What if I just, I don’t know, want a roommate that’s chill and we could hang out and we wouldn’t have to do any of that romance shit, but we could just… be cool together?”
“You mean like what we’ve been doing so far?”
“Yeah. Exactly like that. I’ve been happy these last couple of months. I don’t know, I thought you were happy too.”
Shouto opened his mouth, paused, obviously struggling to find words. He removed his hands from Bakugou’s shoulders, and suddenly Bakugou felt cold and bare. He wasn’t the begging type, but if he was ever going to start, it would be now.
“You’re my friend, you know that?” he said. “One of the best ones I’ve ever had, and I guess I don’t want to lose you.”
He could see something troubled and unsure creeping in the depths of Shouto’s mind.
Finally, the man opened his mouth and said, hesitantly, “I don’t have any use for a lover. But I guess… I’ve always wanted a friend.”
Bakugou let out a choked sound, some embarrassing combination of a sob of relief and a laugh.
“We’ll have to get you a proper bed, then,” he replied. “There’s no way I’m letting you stink up my couch forever.”
“And my own stuff in the bathroom. I wouldn’t stink so much if I didn’t have to use your awful body wash.”
“It’s spice flavored!”
“That’s not a real thing, and it’s disgusting.”
Bakugou gave Shouto a playful punch, and the other boy smiled, pushing back.
Yeah. I think this is going to work out.