todobaku | burning touch

Fear

Shouto woke up, gasping. His skin prickled all over, invisible knives slicing into his arms, legs, torso - everywhere. He felt hot, way too hot, so he activated his right side to try and find some reprieve. It didn't work.

Desperate, he increased the output, frosting over his entire body in the process. Still, he remained scorching, a roaring flame amidst the cold. The ice on his body began to evaporate.

Why is this happening? He tried to think, but the searing heat and the prick of needles under his skin made it virtually impossible. His tongue felt heavy and thick in his mouth. Is this what dying feels like?

Abruptly, his alarm went off next to his head. It sounded as if Present Mic was screaming right into his ear, full-blast, and Shouto wanted to die. "Fuck," he choked out, willing his hand up and over so he could slam down the stop button. The movement aggravated numerous aches that Shouto hadn't even known he'd had, and he allowed himself a moment to recuperate as best he could from the surprise.

Well, first things first. Why was he feeling like this? Once again, he tried to think back, but his mind was foggy with pain and discomfort and all he could really focus on was how much he hurt. And God, did he hurt. He hurt so much that he felt like he could vomit all over himself.

No, remember your training, he reminded himself. The ice cold water from the showerhead. The hours of shivering, chattering teeth, blue fingers and lips. The angry words of his father. You must learn to ignore it. Do you think villains will care if you can't fight properly from pain? They'll kill you without a second thought. Endure.

And so he did.

He endured through all his academic lessons, suppressing his shudders and tremors and forcing himself to breath regularly and deeply no matter how much it pained him. He endured through lunch, where the food felt like fire traveling down his esophagus and into his stomach. He could barely bring himself to eat a quarter of his lunch. He threw the rest away.

He endured all the way up until quirk training. That was where he found himself now, in the locker room, getting ready to partake in whatever training the school had planned for them. The rest of the boys chattered around him, excited for the activity, but all Shouto felt was a roiling pain that twisted from his toes all the way up into his temples. He braced himself against a particularly strong wave of nausea, pausing in unbuttoning his shirt as he did so.

"You look like shit, Icyhot." Shouto glanced over. Bakugou leaned against a locker, already dressed in his hero costume. He was looking at Shouto skeptically, eyes roving over him in a way that made his gut twist.

Shouto opened his mouth to reply, but found no words. What could he possibly say to get out of this?

"I'm fine," was all he could respond. His half-hearted answer made Bakugou stand upright, that all too familiar anger flaring to life in his eyes.

"You're fine?" Bakugou stomped closer, nostrils flaring. "You're fucking shaking! You haven't even gotten out of your school clothes! Everyone else has fucking left already!"

Shouto looked around at his words, surprised. Oh. Everyone really had gone.

"Fucking pay attention!" Bakugou snapped, hand wrapping tightly around his wrist and yanking him closer, and - oh. The relief was all-consuming, enveloping Shouto like a mother's embrace, and it distracted him so much he couldn't find the strength to catch himself from barreling straight into Bakugou's chest like a newborn fawn still trying to find its footing. Bakugou shouted, shocked, and released his arm, stumbling back a bit.

Shouto slumped against him, barely registering what he was doing. All he could focus on was the coolness that emanated from Bakugou, how his relentless headache was fading away, and how his head was growing clearer by the second.

But then Bakugou was pulling away, swears spilling from his lips. All too soon, Shouto was left standing, his now assuaged but ever-present pain still coiling hot in every fiber of his being, and he moved before his mind could stop him.

His hand caught Bakugou's wrist and a real, honest-to-God whimper pushed itself past Shouto's traitorous lips as he felt that relief once again. His mind cleared completely in what felt like decades, and he sucked in greedy gulps of air as he breathed without any stabs of pain.

And then he realized what he was doing.

He dropped Bakugou's wrist like it was a red-hot iron, backing away quickly as his eyes snapped to red ones.

Bakugou was staring at him, eyes wide and vulnerable. His mouth was open slightly, parted in pure shock, which was also probably why he wasn't blasting Shouto to ashes right now. His arm was hovering in the space between them, like Bakugou wasn't sure whether it was even safe to touch. Neither of them moved.

"What..." Bakugou paused, taking a shaky breath. "What the fuck was that, Icyhot." It was a demand, not a request.

"I...I don't know, I just..." Shouto felt his breaths come quicker. What had that been? Never before had Shouto ever felt that desperate, never before had he felt he needed something that crucially.

With more effort than Shouto felt should have been necessary, he dragged his gaze back up to Bakugou's. Bakugou was looking at him, disgust and fury in his eyes. "Don't touch me."

And then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him with a slam that sounded utterly final.

________________

That's right, shit's going down and it's only the second chapter! I will admit, I only had a vague idea of where I wanted this chapter to go when I started writing it (and this story haha), but I like where it ended up!

Don't worry, things will get better!! I hope you enjoyed!