08 — i'd rather be a riot than indifferent

[vibreaks]

[When Shindou finally arrives, he's ten minutes late and wearing the kind of easy grin on his face that says he's doesn't care in the slightest that he's made Bakugou wait.

His approach garners a few curious glances from some students on their way out, but he takes it all in stride. Or, rather, he doesn't seem to notice at all, his sights set on something past the other boy's impatient figure, past the iron gates. The truth is, Shindou's only seen U.A. in photos or a news coverage. Like everyone else, he's keenly aware of the prestige attached to the school's name, it's just... seeing it up close shoves every impressive thing he's heard about it right into his face. It's strange.

Even once his feet have stopped beside Bakugou, Shindou's not really paying attention to him, eyes still fixed on the stately school building. Ketsubutsu looks like an molehill in comparison. Maybe less than a anthill!

Letting loose one low-pitched whistle, he shakes his head, then turns to actually regard his soon-to-be opponent, as if he's only just now noticed him.]

Oh, hey.

[And then, for lack of anything better to say—]

I brought your jacket.

Comments

[vibreaks]

[It is perhaps a little too true that he's kept an eye on Bakugou since the sports festival—not in, like, a creepy way or anything. And, certainly, he's learned more with each news coverage featuring the guy, each ill-advised interaction. But all of that accumulated knowledge feels completely useless now. None of the combat analyses Shindou's devised could have possibly prepared him for this stupid, pointed question, a veritable dagger angled at his throat. If he were a more honest person, it'd be easier to answer.

But since he isn't, Shindou just plasters on a grin, wanders over to a locker that's already slightly ajar, and stalls his ass off.]

Not all night. I listened the second time you told me to fuck off!

[More like the fifth... not that his companion that evening remembers. He would have fucked off sooner if the cab hadn't taken so long to get there. Probably.

Letting his backpack hang from the hook against the back wall of the locker, Shindou yanks the zipper open none too gently, unveiling the sheer amount of crap he has inside. How he'd managed to stuff Bakugou's jacket in there is beyond anyone's imagination. Reaching past all the textbooks, supplies, and borrowed games, he wrenches out his tracksuit from the bottom of his belongings.

Well. He tries to, anyways. The thing's catching on something.]

But if you—[TUG]—really want me—[TUG, TUG]—to tell you—

[With one final tug, his tracksuit breaks loose from whatever had kept lodged in there, whipping into his face. He casts a glance Bakugou's away, still grinning, in spite of how ridiculous his earlier display had been.]

Try kicking my ass first.

[damagedpride]

[That's not a fucking answer, and Bakugou knows avoidance when he fucking hears it. It's obnoxious for several reasons, but one of the worst being that trying to chase after actually getting an answer means looking like he actually gives a shit. Luckily, he's gotten good at misdirecting people by using anger and impatience in his favor. And he's about to demand he just fucking spit it out already, but he's mildly distracted by Shindou and his game of tug-of-war with his backpack.

His brows knit in both amusement and annoyance as he watches, distracted from doing anything more than opening his own very organized locker.

He snorts when Shindou finally gets his clothes free, though whether that's a win for him or the bag when it smacks him in the face, he's not sure.]

I don't need any more motivation to kill you. But fine, I'll beat a confession out of you.

[Because that's what it would be, isn't it? He's not that fucking clueless. Shindou had no obligation to watch him, and if he was just a fucking goody-two-shoes type of hero, he could admit that up front. Anything else means he either likes him, or he was watching him as a favor for somebody he does like. Or Bakugou did something totally stupid and he was waiting to pull out the blackmail material later.

It didn't change anything. So with a shake of his head, he turns back to his own locker and slips off his jacket, hanging it on one of the side hooks inside before he's rapidly undoing the buttons on his dress shirt and shrugging it off, an easier task with the absence of the tie that the rest of the male students wear.

It goes on a hook too before he's slipping out of shoes and then pants that fall to his feet the moment he undoes his belt, leaving him in obnoxious orange boxer briefs. At least until they're quickly covered up by the blue and white UA tracksuit.

He pulls his combat boots out of his locker and sits down on the bench to slip them on, eyes drifting back over to Shindou as he finishes up.]