elevator hours. | todobaku

seventh hour.

—PROPERLY BEAUTIFUL—

Beep.

The lights blinked.

Black.

The elevator shakes— it's violent and it's ceaseless. Vibrations thrum through Bakugou's veins as his vision turned into nothing but cracked, ragged screens.

Everything was black.

"Fucking hell, fuck." Bakugou grunts, laying back against his corner, movements rendered useless as the shakes ricochet back and forth and hitting him repeatedly with no mercy.

The trembling progressed, but then suddenly-

It stops.

Todoroki gasped out a breath, at the as Bakugou sat up, a relived sigh slipping out of his lips. Shaky hearts returning to their own pace. Bakugou's mouth stretches into a small closed smile.

But of course, good things never last.

The two knew that, because then they felt it.

The fall.

Todoroki broke out in a yell, fingers scrambling blindly for something to hold onto in the pitch black elevator for support— his hand finding Bakugou's shoulder, and the surprising thing was-

Bakugou was grasping onto him, too.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUUUUUCK!" Bakugou screams over Todoroki yells.

"SHIT. SHIT. WE'RE FUCKED. FUCK THIS." Bakugou shouts brashly. And Todoroki did not stop yelling.

"FUCK! SHIT! FUCK!"

Todoroki's yelling died out. And then there it was again.

"FU-" The stop.

The elevator was swinging, as though it were an aftershock to the shaking and the fall. Pants and jagged breaths filled the air.

"....fuck."

Todoroki and Bakugou's hands remain on each other. Like it was an assurance that they weren't alone. None of them dared to release their breath— anticipating, waiting.

It's so familiar.

The grip did not loosen.

Minutes of silence in the eerie, broken down elevator ticked away with the relentless palpitation of their hearts, gradually slowing down their pace.

Todoroki exhaled.

"...Bakugou. Are you... okay?"

There was a pause, and then...

"...Don't underestimate me, IcyHot." So, it's a yes, right?

"Of course." Todoroki chuckles.

"Fuck, it's dark as hell." It's dark, sure, Todoroki didn't need to see Bakugou to know there was a scowl planted on his face.

"Hm. We should use our quirks. For light." Todoroki suggests, only met with an empty reply.

And then Todoroki hears a crackling sound. It didn't take long before a smirking face and ashy blond hair came to view. Bakugou obliged, and Todoroki grinned at that, raising his left arm, and mirroring his actions.

They were close. So close. That tough their light source wasn't the most effective, Bakugou could still see the dark rim of his right eye, and the flecks of azure in the pool of his blue colored left eye. He has never seen anybody's eyes this way. Or rather, he has never seen anyone this way.

Todoroki's skin looked golden next to the small crackling fire from his hand, milky and creamy and soft, like he had silk on his face instead of flesh. Bakugou could spot every mid tone and shade of each curve and edge of his face— the cut of his cheekbone, the shadow of his jaw.

And that goddamn smile.

The bastard... looked nice.

Bakugou didn't like this at all. The warmth—that perturbing thing radiating from where he held Todoroki side, and from where his fingers molded against his shoulders. That thing swarming his insides, rivaling the diminutive explosion on his palm, and the contained fire emitting from Todoroki hand combined as one.

He did not like it at all.

But he didn't look away.

He can't look away. It was as though Todoroki's eyes were a magnet and Bakugou couldn't repel against them.

No speaking was involved as they kept eye contact. The two simply reveled in the presence of one another- reveled in the warmth of one another.

The moment their eyes met, the time came to an abrupt pause— cutting them away from reality, stuck inside their own little world, the world they made in this broken down elevator.

Without moving opened lips, they conversed. It was the type of connection that exceeds the levels that words were too inadequate to describe— something that can't be explained, but rather, felt.

Because it didn't need to be described. It didn't need to be explained. Nothing needed needed to be said. No actions needed to be made.

In this broken down elevator, it's scorching hot, the simple task of breathing suddenly wasn't so simple, electricity is unavailable— but they felt it and now, none of those things matter anymore. Not in their world.

That's what makes it utterly and properly beautiful.

And in that moment, as the color of their eyes blend, getting lost in the other, it's when they knew.

Everything's alright, after all.