The Stranger

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The scrape of the window sliding up against the frame cut through the sizzling of frying chicken strips. Yet Todoroki didn't turn around. There was only one person who came in by that window, 3 storeys above the ground. It wasn't long before he heard the familiar footfalls. "Don't get blood on my floor."

The footsteps halted, as if the person had stopped with one foot still in the air. "How'd you know I was bleeding Halfy?"
Bakugou said eventually.
"Lucky guess." Todoroki poked at the chicken with a spatula. Abandoning his cooking and switching off the stove, Todoroki looked out of the kitchen entryway and narrowed his eyes when he saw Bakugou draped over the couch; his arms splayed either side of him. Blood dripped freely off his chin.
Bakugou's eyes opened a slit as Todoroki approached him. They were a little glazed over, which was reason enough for him to grab his wrist and yank him forward, earning a deep groan in response.
"You're getting my couch dirty." The first aid kit was still in the bathroom, so Todoroki headed for it.
"Ha... That couch is plenty dirty already." Todoroki's hold on the blondes arm tightened considerably.

Bakugou had shown up 4 months and 5 days ago.

~~~

It was 3am. Someone was in his kitchen. Another clatter broke the deafening silence. The moon hid behind the clouds, casting a haunted darkness across the living room. Todoroki could make out nothing at all but dark lumps of furniture. Waves of vibrations crawled down his body, reacting to the icy air bleeding through the open window that he knew shouldn't have been open. The once neat rug was scuffed up at the corner. The wooden floor he finally mustered up the effort to clean just hours before now littered itself with drops of red. He took a shaky step backwards, only to release the most earth-shattering creak. The quiet was poisonous in its nothingness. He could feel its fingers coiling around his neck, almost squeezing his eyes out of their own sockets. It hissed in a husky drawl. "Scream and I'll kill you, Extra." Except the voice wasn't the darkness, the fingers weren't the darkness. It was a man. His face was darkly shadowed, eyes smouldering red underneath his stony expression and sharp tips of ruffled blonde hair, wet with blood. Todoroki tried to not tremble in his vice grip; words stuck under his calloused fingers. "Be good, pretty boy, and get me some tweezers. Don't even think about calling for help, alright?"

By the time Todoroki had stumbled back into the living room, the stranger was shirtless. Glass and blood pooled between the ridges of muscles rippling along his back. Todoroki gulped unconsciously, looking away. "Stop pissing about and start getting this shit out of me already..." He growled, keeping a cautious eye of the dual haired's movements over his shoulder. Another tremor racked through Todoroki's body before he shuffled behind him, hesitating only for a second before plunging.

It was a long time before he spoke again.   
"Don't talk much do we?" The taunt sounded half-hearted though. If it had not been, Todoroki might have dug in the shaking tweezers a little deeper than necessary. Picking up the tatters of his confidence, he replied.                                       "Nothing to say."

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