@ explosivo

[indeed, that night of rest had been as futile as he expected, spent tossing and turning with a rich foreign flavor on his tongue and the ghost of another against it, of hands that are (always?) too warm and too rough on him, flaxen hair between his fingers; the next day at school means trying to carry on like nothing had happened, but a moment of eye contact that lingers too long between them, too full of things that were left unsaid and questions left unasked, tells him he isn't alone in it]

[still, he says nothing. not for days, not until he finds Bakugou alone one evening in one of UA's many gyms, dressed down and doing what he always does — pushing himself]

[Todoroki lingers, watching the heat flooded on his skin and the sheen of sweat on him, before his feet carry him over, dropping a gym bag on a mat some several steps away]

Bakugou.

[there's a pause, like he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say, before finally — ]

Spar me. Without our quirks.