"So," Bakugou said with a mouthful of fries, "what gives?"
"Pardon?" Todoroki asked, looking taken aback. He'd been eyeing his enormous burger rather doubtfully, but Bakugou knew that between the two of them, he'd be the one having a rough time later due to the food.
"Wanna talk about why you were beating the shit out of that poor striking bag or would you rather just chow down?" Bakugou asked, relishing in the idea that talking with his mouth full of food was probably going against everything Todoroki had ever known in life.
"Has anyone ever told you that you have terrible bedside manner?" Todoroki said in an amused tone. There were still subtle tear tracks on his cheeks, but Bakugou wasn't going to point that out.
"I've found that a blunt approach usually makes people more comfortable than flowery speech," he said, giving his own burger a doubtful look as well. This was a terrible idea. He was going to get so sick.
But then Todoroki picked up his ridiculous tower of a bacon cheeseburger and bit into it, so Bakugou had no choice but to eat his too.
"Are you eating to avoid the question?" he asked, peering over the bun to look at the other boy. Todoroki looked sheepish but couldn't answer around the giant mouthful. Bakugou set his burger back down and flopped backward in his seat. "Look. I don't do this, ever. I'm not even used to having . . . friends, so I'm not exactly the best at playing shrink. That's more Kirishima's thing. But I know that when he talked to me, he wanted me to feel, well, comfortable. And said he'd only press it if it was really bad. So it's up to you whether you want to talk about it or not, because I have no idea if it's just upcoming midterm stress or as bad as extreme trauma."
Todoroki stared Bakugou down for a moment, then set his own burger on his plate and daintily wiped the grease from his fingers with a napkin. He leaned over to reach into his bag and pulled out what Bakugou recognized as a makeup wipe.
"I don't really do this either," he said hesitantly. "I just . . . my method of handling it - it isn't working anymore. Maybe I'm just feeling impulsive. I don't know. I . . . just don't know." He ran his free hand through his hair, looking nervous.
"You share whatever you want to," Bakugou shrugged. "I'm not someone with a lot of friends to gossip with and I'm not actually a total asshole, despite how I may come off to people. It's not like I'm gonna run around spilling your secrets."
"My family is what you might call . . . messed up," Todoroki said, looking down at the makeup wipe in his hand. Bakugou definitely understood the desire to avoid eye contact when spilling your guts. "My father, he is a perfectionist through and through. He wanted a perfect wife and a perfect family. When he met my mother he became obsessed, so he . . . blackmailed my mother's father so she would agree to marry him. He thought the specific perfection he sought for his children was somehow in her genes."
"That is really some super-villain shit," Bakugou said when Todoroki paused. He was serious too. This was already horrifying, and Todoroki seemed to have barely started.
Todoroki was nervously pulling at the makeup wipe. "My mother tried her best with us, but I-" he swallowed thickly and looked sick for a moment. "I look the most like him. She couldn't stand the sight of me, but I didn't know it until one day . . . " he trailed off. His eyes were glazed over, like his mind had completely traveled somewhere else.
Bakugou waited as patiently as possible for a moment. Finally, Todoroki moved. He bowed his head and raised the makeup wipe, scrubbing at his face for a moment. When he finally looked back up, Bakugou was at a loss for words.
