todobaku | burning touch

Absence

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Bakugou avoided any and all contact with Shouto, so he eventually stopped trying to catch his eye to apologize. Bakugou's clear hatred for Shouto and anything associated with him surprisingly made Shouto feel a twinge in his chest, although he supposed going through multiple life-threatening battles with someone could do that. Before the whole...Incident, Shouto had thought of Bakugou as a friend, but it was quite clear that the feeling was not mutual. It was basically anything but, in fact, so Shouto decided to give up on his previously held sentiments and accept the fact that he and Bakugou would never be anything more than rivals. The thought was strangely...disappointing.

Time crawled along, and as it did so, Shouto's discomfort increased. In class, he couldn't focus, too busy scratching at his wrists or trying to think through the pounding in his head. At one point, Midoriya may have even tried to talk to him, but in the blurry haze that was his memory, Shouto couldn't really tell for certain. He must have replied with something, Shouto reasoned, or else Midoriya would surely be dragging him bodily to Recovery Girl's office to get him examined. The thought brought a brief smile to Shouto's lips.

"Todoroki." Aizawa's monotone voice cut through his thoughts and brought him back to the present. Shouto glanced over and saw that the entire class was looking at him. He straightened.

"Yes, Sensei?"

Aizawa levelled him with a disapproving look. "I've called your name three times now. I expect you to pay attention in the future." Embarrassment coiled hot in Shouto's stomach, but he kept his face carefully neutral through the pain and emotions.

"Yes, Sensei. Sorry." Stupid stupid stupid stupid - Aizawa motioned for Shouto to follow, and as he did so, he noticed Midoriya's worried look - stupid. You can't just zone out like that. Do you think villains will wait for you while you daydream? Flashbacks of his childhood zipped through his mind try as he might to suppress them - memories of scalding words, of burning touches, of-

Shouto forcefully smothered those thoughts. How was he supposed to be a hero if he was bothered by every little training session? In front of him, Aizawa came to a stop. Shouto halted behind him.

"Bakugou, Iida, and Asui will be your partners for this training. Get ready; the other group will be done soon." With that, Aizawa left, leaving Bakugou and Shouto alone, as Iida and Asui had previously exited the room to watch the other match. Shouto looked at Bakugou. Bakugou looked back. Well, more like glared, actually. His eyebrows slanted down, creating a little crease between them, and his eyes were narrowed. The highlight on his irises looked...nice,  Shouto thought, the red a nice contrast on his fair skin. He quickly backtracked, though; that was dangerous territory. Why was he thinking this, anyway? The itch under his skin made him think maybe it was just the sickness.

As Shouto looked at Bakugou, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. Was he really standing here, making eye-contact, with Bakugou? It seemed too easy after all the evading Bakugou had done previously. At that, Shouto thought, oh. Maybe he should talk to Bakugou about what happened in the locker room. After all, Bakugou would most certainly be back to avoiding him after this. This would be the only chance Shouto got to explain.

"Bakugou, about what happened in-"

"Save it for someone who cares, Halfie," Bakugou snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's just get this over with, and then I won't have to look at your ugly mug ever again." Shouto pursed his lips. That didn't make any sense.

"But you'll still have to see me in class, not to mention that we'll likely be partnered up again at some point in time-"

"Shut up!" Bakugou growled. He opened his mouth again, most likely to spew creative profanities at Shouto, but the buzzer sounded. His glare was turned on the alarm instead, then, but before anything could be launched from his mouth, Aizawa leaned into the side room and told them to get going. Cursing, Bakugou glanced at Shouto.

"Just stay out of my way and don't fuck anything up, got it?" Shouto blinked, but nodded. Bakugou scoffed, but accepted it regardless, trudging ahead and leaving Shouto behind with his thoughts.

Without Bakugou near to distract from the prickle of pain that crawled beneath his skin, Shouto became acutely aware of it, leaning against a wall for support. His entire body felt like it was being pricked by pins and needles. It was as if his entire body had fallen asleep, but ten times worse.

"Halfie, what the fuck? You're holding everyone up!" Bakugou stomped into the room, fury on his face as per usual, but he stood still when he saw Shouto. "What, are you - fucking sick?" Shouto corrected his posture anxiously. He hadn't meant for anyone to see that.

"...I don't know," Shouto said, because he didn't. It seemed to go away and come back at random times, and - it wasn't particularly good now, but - it would get better.

It would get better.

His eyes landed on Bakugou's wrist, but he dragged them away just as quickly. He wasn't going there today. That was - dangerous. Looking at Bakugou's wrist reminded him of what happened in the locker room, and remembering what happened in the locker room made Shouto think that maybe if he touched Bakugou, all the pain would go away. But Bakugou wouldn't let him do that, had gotten angrier than Shouto had ever seen him when he had, and Shouto wasn't particularly fond of the idea of getting another scar on his face. So.

"Well, fucking - come on, then, if you're not fucking sick." Shouto nodded, gathered all his concentration, and managed to follow Bakugou out of the room and into the training area. A swirling feeling gathered in his gut.

He didn't think this was going to go well.