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Summary
Todoroki tilts his head, lips twitching.
“You’re funny.”
Bakugou doesn’t dare meet the bastard’s eyes. He can’t bear to think what kind of expression is there if that voice sounds so damn amused.
“You’re fucking weird.”
Todoroki shrugs, sliding his silver gloves off one slender finger at a time. It’s really unnecessary and dramatic, Bakugou is totally done with this. He hates that his eyes won’t fucking listen to him, tracked to follow every motion. Like it’s a target to hit later.
“I don’t get out much. I’m sure you know why better than anyone. You were hired to kill me, after all. Obviously, you failed.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Bakugou hisses.
Unaffected and unfazed, Todoroki continues.
“You came closer than anyone ever has. So congratulations, I suppose.”
From a distance, Todoroki Shouto is nothing more than a target through the sniper lens. Up close, he's far too real.