An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Todoroki Touya was six years old when his school first held a mandatory soulmate course, that went over the history of soulmates as they had suddenly appeared hundreds of years ago. The origin of them is something no one could fully understand.
Soulmates are identified by matching marks on their bodies, something that shows up during one's teen years, like a tattoo that will simply fade into existence on one’s body. Sometimes it’s large, other times it’s so small that a person needs help finding it.
Less than 1% of the planet’s population is markless.
Everyone was excited to get their soulmark, to use it to track down their ‘other half’ so they could figure out how their lives were meant to meld together.
Because everyone has a soulmate.
—
Twenty-seven-year-old Touya enters Eraser Head Ink as he does every Monday through Saturday.
Touya is average height at 180cm, lightly muscular and toned. His ears are lined in black studs, an industrial on his right ear, and 10mm gauges in either side with large red fangs through them. He has three piercings in his lower lip, dimple studs, and three studs in his left nostril.
He is, of course, covered in quite a bit of ink, almost entirely done by his mentor and boss, Aizawa Shouta, every piece custom designed by Touya himself.
His left arm is coated in blue flames from his bicep down to the back of his hand, wrapping all the way around.
His right shoulder sports a large green and gray grenade surrounded by pink Sakura flowers that wrap his entire bicep.
He has ‘FUCK OFF’ tattooed across his knuckles in bold black English letters, outlined in bright orange.
His spine from the back of his neck down to his tailbone is covered in a traditional Japanese floral design with bursts of red flowers throughout.
On his left outer thigh is a quote surrounded by vines and bleeding red roses, ‘A soulmate is someone who understands you like no other, loves you like no other, will be there with you forever, no matter what,’ meant as a reminder of the importance of soulmates.
Aizawa is already inside, so Touya shoves the door open with his shoulder, careful not to jostle the hot travel mug of coffee in his hand.
“Morning,” Aizawa says in his usual monotone.
The man has long, curly black hair done up in a loose bun at the nape of his neck. His eyes are black, lined with heavy eyebags that clearly showcase his need for something stronger than coffee. Like Touya, he’s also covered in a significant amount of ink, though he only has piercings in his ears.
“Morning,” Touya grumbles back.
Touya always leaves his small office/station room in perfect order, but he still wipes his table down again before his first client shows up.
This day is pretty slow, he has one client coming in for a soulmark enhancing tattoo—something many people do.
Tattooing over a soulmark is a taboo that many people refuse to do, Touya included, but enhancers are designs added around the soulmark, but never over it.
Touya sighs and sets his coffee down as he pulls out the designs he’s been working on for his client. The man had supplied only that his mark is a circular shape and approximately 18cm in diameter on his back. He wants simple black flowers and vines around the design, so Touya has been working up a few things for the guy to compare.
At 11am on the dot, the doorbell jingles and Touya walks out of his office to greet the man.
“Midoriya Izuku?” Touya questions as he steps closer to the front counter.
“Yeah, that’s me,” the man confirms, nodding his head of wild curly green hair. His wide, bright green eyes are full of excitement as he looks at Touya. “Do I pay now or after?”
“Half now, half when it’s done,” Touya says.
The man nods enthusiastically and pulls out his wallet, flipping through some bills before handing Touya half of their previously agreed upon price.
“This way,” Touya says as he turns and leads the way to his room. “I’ve worked out three different ideas of what you might like.”
He spreads the three works across his desk for the other man to inspect.
“These are amazing,” Midoriya says, smiling excitedly as he leans closer.
Touya hums his agreement, fully aware of his own skill.
“I like this one best,” the man says, pointing to the more traditional design.
“Okay,” Touya says, picking up the sheet. “I’ll get this printed out in a transfer sheet. Take your shirt off. I’ll be right back.”
The man nods and Touya makes his way across the shop to the main office and printer. He hums along with the rock music playing overhead. Something he’d quickly learned about Aizawa when he’d started working here nearly ten years earlier is that his perpetually exhausted mentor has surprisingly good taste in music.
The printer finishes and Touya makes his way back with the original in hand. Midoriya is shirtless as instructed, but he’s seated on the edge of the padded table and Touya cocks a brow at the man.
“You’ve gotta lie down on your stomach for me to put this on,” Touya explains.
“Oh, right,” Midoriya says. “Sorry, this is my first tattoo, I’m nervous.”
“It’s fine,” Touya says with a huff, fighting against his instinctive response to roll his eyes.
He grabs his wipes and pulls his stool up to the side of the table before looking down at the soulmark and freezing.
Midoriya Izuku’s mark is a half-red, half-white fire and ice ying-yang wrapped in green vines on the center of his upper back.
“Holy shit,” Touya says.
“Is something wrong?” Midoriya asks, craning his neck to try to see his own back.
“Have you met your soulmate?” Touya asks, still staring down at the mark.
“No,” Midoriya says.
“I know who they are,” Touya says, moving his eyes to catch the man’s gaze. “I have his phone number. I know where he lives.”
Midoriya’s eyes widen. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t fucking lie about this shit,” Touya says seriously. “I can call him right fuckin’ now.”
Midoriya licks his lips as he considers. “After the tattoo.”
Touya nods and gets to work, wondering exactly what to say to his baby brother.
—
Six months after Touya introduces Shouto and Midoriya, the two move into an apartment together.
Turns out, they both attend UA University and actually shared a couple courses, but they’d never discussed soulmarks, which is shocking in a society that practically begs people to ask about them.
Touya is happy for them, really.
He shows that happiness by spending more time working to push his limits at the gym and ignoring family gatherings.
His professional social media account that doubles as his portfolio had gained hundreds of thousands of followers after Midoriya and Shouto had shared the enhancement to Midoriya’s tattoo, as well as the story of leading the two together.
Midoriya is apparently already famous online as the stepson of a film star, Yagi Toshinori.
It's been excellent for business. He now has appointments scheduled out for months.
Although under Aizawa’s strict rules, he’s required to give himself two full days off every week. He works those out around the schedules of his co-workers, Shinsou Hitoshi and Jirou Kyouka.
So, Touya’s life has changed a bit with his increased popularity.
—
Yesterday, he finished moving into his new apartment. It’s a ten-minute walk to Eraser Head’s, much better than the previous twenty-minute train ride and fifteen-minute walk from his cheap studio apartment.
His new place is modern with wooden floors and granite countertops in the kitchen. It’s a one-bedroom, but the room is large enough for him to have a desk so he can sketch at home instead of camping out overnight at the shop.
The apartment has a large bathroom with a square tub and an open shower, all tiled in grays and whites. The living room looks a bit less pleasing than he’d like, but he isn’t about to replace his old, super comfortable faded leather sofa.
He is much more excited to have a bigger bed after years of sleeping on a twin. Although admittedly, bringing the Queen mattress and bunkie boards up five flights of stairs because it wouldn’t fit in the elevator had not been a pleasant experience.
But, as Touya leaves for work after a night in his new place, he is damn proud of it.
He locks up and makes his way down the street, silently thankful for the warmth of the early fall air.
His ripped jeans tease at his thigh tattoo, and his white t-shirt shows off his hard-earned body as well as his ink.
The only coffee shop on the short walk to the parlor is a smaller place with ‘Plus Ultra Café’ written in white letters across the navy-blue awning.
Touya pushes the door open, jingling a little bell that sounds much cheerier than the one at Eraser Head’s. He steps up to the small counter, next to a glass display case that shows off various pastries.
“One second!” A deep, gruff voice yells out from the room behind the counter, no doubt leading to the kitchen that is the source of the sweet aromas filling the café.
Touya doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the black chalkboard menu behind the counter. He chews at his lower lip rings absently as he reads the coffee options. They have one drink that immediately has Touya’s attention.
“What the hell is a ‘Mexican Spiced Mocha?’” Touya calls out to whoever is in the back.
“It’s literally got a description on the fucking board, genius!” The person shouts out, their heavy footfalls storming closer as they make their way toward the front. “It’s hot chocolate with cayenne and cinnamon mixed with coffee!”
The person rounds the corner, Touya is still looking up at the board, barely noticing the flash of blonde in his periphery. The footsteps fall short and Touya turns his eyes to look at the person.
The man is a bit shorter than Touya, with pale blonde hair that fans out around his head in wild spikes. He has a sharp jaw and angular eyes, the irises a bright scarlet.
Touya turns more fully to face the guy, cocking an eyebrow at the other man’s stunned expression.
“What?” Touya snaps, not caffeinated enough for this shit.
“Nothing,” the man says, scowling as he walks the rest of the way to the cash register behind the counter. “So, you wanna try a Mexican Spiced Mocha?”
“Sure,” Touya grumbles as he pulls his wallet out.
“That’ll be 450¥,” the blonde says.
“Whatever,” Touya says, sighing as he pulls the bills out of his wallet and hands them over.
His eyes lock on the other man’s and he feels a bizarre urge to scratch his left eye. The other man blinks a few times and turns to grab a paper cup.
“Name?” The blonde grouses, holding up the cup and a marker.
Touya frowns. “The hell do you need that for?”
“I’m supposed to write the name on the cup,” the man says flatly.
“I’m the only person in here,” Touya says, narrowing his eyes at the other man.
The blonde rolls his eyes and puts the marker down. “Whatever, Patchwork.”
When he turns his back to start brewing the coffee and hot chocolate, Touya takes a moment to really take in the man. Even with the loose blue and white uniform, the man is clearly well-built.
Touya can appreciate an attractive person when he sees them, and this guy is certainly that.
“One Mexican Spiced Mocha for nameless cranky dude,” the man says as he turns around while capping the drink.
Touya takes the cup from him and sniffs it apprehensively. He takes a small sip and gives a small, surprised hum.
“Not bad, Doll Face,” Touya says.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” The barista snarls. “My name is Bakugou, asshole!”
“Says the guy who's calling me Patchwork,” Touya says, cocking a brow at the blonde.
Bakugou scowls. “Asshole.”
“Takes one to know one,” Touya says, unimpressed. “But the drink isn’t bad.”
“Whatever,” Bakugou says.
Touya rolls his eyes and makes his way to the door.
—
The next day, Touya goes to Plus Ultra again. He’d fallen behind on laundry, so he’d had to pull out an older pair of jeans that are a little too tight and he’s feeling more agitated than usual.
He shoves open the café door with a bit more force than is strictly necessary, and the bell over the door falls to the floor with a loud clatter.
“Ah, shit,” Touya says as he turns and bends over to pick it up.
“What the fu—oh,” the familiar voice behind him ends on a stunted, surprised note.
Touya straightens up and carries the bell up to the counter, a grimace on his face.
“I’ll replace it,” Touya says.
“It’s fine, I’ll hang it back up,” Bakugou says, and then he clears his throat. Touya looks up at the man, whose face is a vivid shade of red.
“You good, Doll Face?” Touya asks, eyes trailing around the flushed hue.
“Fuck off,” Bakugou snaps. “What d’you want?”
“Mexican Spiced Mocha,” Touya says as he places the exact change on the counter.
Bakugou’s face is starting to return to its usual color. “Right.”
Bakugou grabs the cup and immediately turns around to start making the drink, grumbling agitatedly under his breath. Touya eyes the man curiously. He seems almost embarrassed about something.
Touya opts to just shrug it off. He doesn’t particularly care and isn’t interested in finding out.
The door opens behind them, weirdly silent without the cheerful little jingle.
“Whoa, where’s the bell, Blasty?” A familiar voice questions.
Touya turns around to see one of his coworkers, Jirou Kyouka. She’s short and petite, with angular purple hair and black eyes.
“Oh, hey, Touya,” she says, slightly surprised.
“Kyouka,” Touya says with a nod.
“I’ve never seen you in here,” Jirou says. “This place is closer to your new apartment, huh?”
“A startling revelation,” Touya drawls.
“’Sup, Earjacks?” Bakugou says when he turns around. He sets Touya’s coffee on the counter and smirks at the purple-haired woman. “Iced Caramel Macchiato to further stunt your growth?”
“I have nothing else to lose,” Jirou says, shrugging.
Touya grabs his coffee and starts walking to the door, but Jirou stops him with a hand on his shoulder. Touya shrugs it off and turns to glare at her and she winces, having forgotten that the man doesn’t like to be touched.
“Shit, sorry,” she says, taking a step back. “I’ve got this client who wants flowers on her enhancement.”
Touya cocks a brow. “Okay.”
“Well, she wants this specific arrangement of peonies and dahlias…” Jirou trails off.
Touya nods his understanding. “Alright, give me whatever you’ve got so far when you get in and I’ll fix it.”
She gives him a smile. “Thanks, man.”
Touya just shrugs and nods on his way out.
—
Touya has to skip Plus Ultra for a few days while he helps Jirou with her redesign on top of his usual work, but the purple-haired woman brings him his Mexican Spiced Mocha every morning.
“Bakugou sends his regards,” Jirou says on the third day of no Plus Ultra as she sets his cup down on his desk.
Touya cocks his head at her. “Who?”
“The… barista?” Jirou says.
“Oh, Doll Face,” Touya says with a nod as he grabs the cup. “He called me Patchwork.”
Jirou cracks up laughing. “That’s so mean!”
“He seems like a dick,” Touya says.
“Oh, he is,” Jirou says, sniffling as she calms her mirth. “Shinsou and I went to high school with him. You get a nicer nickname over time. That’s where Shinsou’s came from.”
“What was his original Bakugou nickname?” Touya asks curiously.
“Eyebags,” Shinsou says as he walks past Touya’s door.
“Yikes,” Touya says, cringing. The man still has intense eyebags. “How’d he become Mindfuck, then?”
“Tattoos!” Shinsou yells out from the front room and Touya nods his understanding.
“Makes sense,” Touya says with a shrug.
Jirou walks out the door as she talks, “Hey, Hitoshi, do you do drugs while you do your tattoos?”
“Only the sketches,” Shinsou says. Aizawa levels him with a glare and Shinsou grins unrepentantly.
—
When Touya next goes back to Plus Ultra, the doorbell is back in its usual place. The day is warmer than usual, so Touya had opted for a black tank top and dark wash jeans for the day.
“Patchwork,” Bakugou says boredly from his spot behind the counter.
“Are you the only fucking person who works here?” Touya blurts out.
“No,” Bakugou says flatly. “Sparky works the afternoon shifts. Satou works the bakery part, but he’s always in the kitchens.”
“Using someone’s actual name, huh?” Touya cocks a brow as he sets the 450¥ on the counter. “Mexican Spiced Mocha.”
“He’s not a fucking idiot,” Bakugou says flatly.
“That must be a major compliment from you,” Touya says with a huff.
“It is,” the blonde says simply, reaching for one of the paper cups. He clears his throat, cheeks pinkening lightly. “Your tattoos are fucking cool.”
“I know,” Touya says dryly.
“Ah, fuck,” Bakugou says, scrunching his nose up. “Sorry if any are fuckin’ soulmarks.”
Touya grimaces. “Don’t have a soulmark. They’re all tattoos.”
Bakugou makes a small, surprised sound. “Huh. Never met another markless person before.”
“It’s a thrilling demographic,” Touya deadpans.
Bakugou snorts as he starts making the drink. “Right? I used to draw on myself with markers and pretend it was one.”
“That’s stupid,” Touya says. Although he had absolutely done the same thing when he was younger. “Bet your art is shit, anyway.”
“It is,” Bakugou says with a chuckle. “Were yours any good?”
“My art is always good,” Touya says defensively.
“Oh?” Bakugou drawls, smirking over his shoulder. Touya blushes, realizing his admission too late.
“Shut up,” Touya grumbles.
Bakugou huffs, amused. “Whatever. Did you draw your tattoos, then?”
“Doll Face, the only thing I didn’t do is stick the needle in my skin,” Touya says.
“Damn,” Bakugou says as he turns and puts the lid on Touya’s coffee. “Not bad, Patches.”
“I know,” Touya says, cocking a brow, like he dares the blonde to challenge him. “I did all the art on myself and only tattoo my own art on others. None of the generic bullshit people ask for. Not worth my fucking time.”
“You’re a tattoo artist?” Bakugou asks. Touya nods and the blonde takes a deep breath and exhales. “Holy shit. Anyway—you got social media or something? I’ve always wanted a tattoo.”
Touya contemplates that for a moment before nodding. “Dabi.”
Bakugou’s eyes blow wide. “Fucking seriously?”
Touya cringes and grabs his cup from the blonde’s hand before the man can accidentally crush the cup during his small existential crisis.
“You? You’re the fuckin’ soulmark artist who worked with Deku?” Bakugou asks, staring wide-eyed at the white-haired man.
Touya blinks and takes a sip of the coffee. “Shit, this is good. If I have to find a new place to get coffee because you freak the fuck out, I’mma be pissed.”
“Shut up,” Bakugou says, scrunching his nose up. “I don’t give a shit. Just can’t believe you worked with shitty Deku. Nerd’s been insufferable since meeting Half-n-Half.”
“Right,” Touya says dryly. “I’m leaving.”
“Door’s right fuckin’ there,” Bakugou says, frowning.
Touya observes his expression for a moment; the dejection and pain he understands all too well. With a sharp nod, he turns and walks out.
—
Touya doesn’t go to Plus Ultra the next day, Sunday. Partly because he doesn't have to go to Eraser Head’s, and partly because he has no idea if the café is even open on Sundays.
But on Monday, Touya pulls on a pair of black slacks and a long-sleeved, deep blue button-up. He’s supposed to be meeting his family for dinner after his shift and doesn’t want to waste time going home after work to change.
He pulls on his black sneakers because fuck formal shoes, and he makes his way out, ensuring that his door is locked behind himself.
The bell jingles when he steps into Plus Ultra, and Bakugou pops up from under the counter as he approaches, wild blonde spikes as untamed as ever.
“Patchwork,” Bakugou nods to him.
“Doll Face,” Touya says, cocking a brow as he drops his usual cash on the counter. He and Bakugou exchange equally unimpressed looks before the blonde turns and starts making the drink.
“You’re fucking busy,” the blonde grouses. “I called Eraser Head’s and got put on the list for when you start taking clients on again.”
“That’s what happens when you’re good at your job,” Touya says, his pride puffing his chest lightly.
“Right,” Bakugou says, shrugging as he turns.
He leans lightly over the counter to pass Touya his drink and the light catches the man’s scarlet eyes at a new angle.
Touya swiftly moves the coffee out of the way and grabs the blonde’s sharp chin, tugging him closer as the man gasps lightly in surprise. Touya narrows his eyes, glaring at the man as he observes his irises.
There, inside the man’s left iris, is a barely noticeable pale white circlet around his pupil. Touya clicks his tongue and shoves the guy’s face away. Bakugou is bright red and for once in his life, he’s at a loss for words.
Touya grabs his coffee and takes a sip.
“Your soulmark is in your left iris,” Touya says flatly before turning and leaving the café.
—
Once again swamped with large pieces needing to be done, Touya doesn’t go into Plus Ultra the next day. But at 9:00am sharp, Jirou rolls into Eraser Head’s with two cups of coffee and a massive grin on her face.
“You changed his life, Touya!” Jirou practically screams.
Touya drops his pencil and flexes his hands, willing himself to not smack the excessive volume from her face.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Touya snaps.
Jirou hands him his coffee, carefully avoiding the papers on his desk.
He places a protective plastic sheet over them and leans over it while he sips his drink with two hands.
“Bakugou,” Jirou clarifies. “You noticed the soulmark in his iris. I spent, like, half of my night in his apartment taking pictures of his eye so he could see it.”
“Got ‘em with you?” Touya asks.
It’s no secret to anyone that he enjoys looking at soulmarks. He’s one of the few people in the area who can rapidly identify the difference between a soulmark and a tattoo without needing special instruments.
“You know it,” Jirou says as she pulls her phone out.
She scrolls through her pictures and clicks one before handing the phone over. Touya looks closely, zooming in as far as the phone will allow.
The shape is fascinating—the ring itself has jagged edges that mimic an explosion, but it has small cracks with what looks like flames and smoke rolling out.
“Badass,” Touya says as he hands the phone back.
“Think you could draw up a larger version if I sent the images to you?” Jirou asks.
“He wants the design tattooed somewhere else,” Touya says, it isn’t a question.
“Yup,” Jirou says, tapping away at her phone. “There, I emailed all the pictures to you.”
“You owe me,” Touya says, leveling her with a glare. “It’s hard to see. It’ll take a while with all the other shit I’ve gotta do.”
“That’s fine,” Jirou says, waving him off. “You’re booked out for months and he’s already on your list. He’ll never admit it, but he’s about ready to pay anything to get your tattoo on him.”
“Whatever,” Touya grumbles before chugging the last half of his drink.
“No, really,” Jirou says, voice much softer. “I’ve known him for years. He was a bigger asshole in high school, and eventually I found out it was because he thought not having a mark meant he wasn’t wanted or something.”
Touya takes a breath to attempt to calm himself before glaring at her. “Yeah, I’m perfectly fucking aware of how shitty it is to not have a soulmark. Your doll faced friend is lucky that someone finally noticed it.”
Jirou gives him a measured look. “Maybe—”
“No,” Touya cuts her off. “Whatever you’re gonna say, I’ve looked. There’s nothing. Fuck off, Kyouka.”
—
Touya has the next day off work, so he stays in and pulls the images of Bakugou’s soulmark up on his computer, adjusting the size and altering the image to make the mark more clearly visible.
With the alterations, it’s easier to see that the mark covers nearly the entire iris.
Touya diligently drafts the stunningly intricate mark out onto his sketchpad.
It’s a circular pattern in a pale white, only just visible inside the scarlet orb it resides in. It wraps in a circle around the pupil, a little ring with jagged edges, flames and smoke curling around the entire thing.
—
Touya pushes open the door to Plus Ultra with his sketchpad tucked under his arm, the bell once again jingling merrily above him.
“One second!” Bakugou’s voice calls out from the back room.
“Whatever,” Touya says, voice still gravelly with sleep as he approaches the counter. He sets the sketch pad down and rubs at his eyes as he yawns.
“Whoa, you look like shit today,” Bakugou says as he makes his way to the counter.
“Thanks, Doll Face,” Touya deadpans.
“I ain’t gonna lie,” Bakugou says boredly, crossing his arms.
“Fair enough,” Touya says, shrugging and dropping 450¥ on the counter.
Bakugou grunts and turns to make his Mexican Spiced Mocha. Touya picks his sketchbook back up and flips through the pages until he reaches the one with Bakugou’s soulmark.
He stares at it blankly as the blonde makes his drink. Looking at the design brings a weird pang to his heart that he can’t properly discern.
“The fuck’s that?” Bakugou asks as he places Touya’s cup on the counter.
Touya picks up his coffee and holds the sketchpad out. “Your soulmark.”
“Oh,” Bakugou breathes out.
He reaches out and takes the pad with slightly shaky hands. He stares at it with an awed expression in his ruby eyes.
After a solid minute of silence, Touya clears his throat. “I can email the design to you. I don’t give away my sketches.”
“Okay,” Bakugou says, still entranced by the drawing. “This is fucking insane. I still can’t believe I have a mark.”
Touya snorts. “Congrats on the new demographic.”
Bakugou huffs and carefully closes the sketchpad before handing it back to Touya. “Thanks. This… means a lot to me.”
The blonde gives Touya a genuine smile that makes his heart clench painfully.
Naturally, Touya reacts to his body’s attempt at emotions by scoffing and taking the sketchpad back, tucking it under his arm.
“Whatever,” Touya says before sipping his coffee. “Do you know where you want it?”
“I was thinking around my wrist,” Bakugou says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want any enhancements on it, and it’d be easy for me to see it there.”
Touya shrugs. “Makes sense.”
He stares at the blonde for a few moments, feeling his heart swell with more feeling than it has any right to for a man with a soulmark.
Touya sighs. “Be at Eraser Head’s on Friday at 6pm.”
Bakugou blinks. “Huh?”
“For your tattoo,” Touya explains. He rolls his eyes at Bakugou’s surprised expression. “Just be there, Doll Face.”
Touya turns and walks out the door, not sparing a glance back at the stunned blonde.
He makes his way to Eraser Head’s, finishing his coffee before he steps inside. He tosses the empty cup in the bin and goes straight to the primary printer/scanner to digitize Bakugou’s soulmark.
As the mark is scanned in, showing up on his phone as it’s automatically saved to his entire online storage system, Touya wonders why looking at it makes him hurt.
—
Friday at 6:00pm, Touya sits at the front desk at Eraser Head’s, relaxing on the office chair, head tilted back as he lightly bobs his head and sings under his breath to the music. He’s the last person left in the shop, just waiting on Bakugou.
Touya cracks his eyes open after a couple songs finish and glances at the clock on the far wall. 6:09pm. Touya cracks his neck and stands up.
If Bakugou isn’t going to show, Touya will just deep clean the shop while he has the chance.
He stands up and suddenly feels like eyes are on him. He glances around the shop, even with the overhead lights on, the slowly darkening sky makes him feel like shadows are closing in. He can feel his breathing increase as his heart starts pounding.
“Fuck,” Touya wheezes. He pulls out his phone and dials Shouto’s number, barely holding the phone up with his shaking hands.
“Hello,” his youngest brother says in his usual monotone.
“Shou, I can’t fucking breathe,” Touya says, voice tight with panic.
“Oh, shit,” Shouto says, rustling sounding over the phone. “Where are you? Do you have your anxiety medication with you?”
Touya speaks through gritted teeth. “I haven’t had a panic attack in over a year. I don’t have a single fucking thing with me.”
“Are you at home or Eraser Head’s?” Shouto asks, and Touya can hear a door closing.
“Eraser’s,” Touya wheezes, his chest feels dangerously tight.
“I’ll be there in ten,” Shouto says. “I’m gonna drive, so I’m going to hang up now.”
“Fuck,” Touya says as he hangs up, panting heavily.
He drops his phone and leans across the countertop, gripping the edge tightly and pressing his forehead to the cool marble.
He tries to focus on his breathing—in for five, hold for five, out for five. Repeat.
He doesn’t look up when the door swings open. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he feels completely drained. His knuckles are white-tight on the counter and his legs feel useless.
The voice that speaks is decidedly not Shouto, however.
“Fuck, what’s going on, Patches?” Bakugou asks as he steps up to the counter.
“Fuck off,” Touya says weakly.
“Should I call an ambulance or something?” Bakugou asks, reaching out to touch Touya’s hands.
“Touya!” Shouto yells before he even opens the door. The bell jingles and the half-white, half-red haired man is at Touya’s side before the door finishes closing, rubbing small circles on his upper back. “What happened?”
“Eyes,” Touya breathes.
“Okay,” Shouto says calmly. “It’s just me and… wait, Bakugou?”
“Fucking Half-n-Half,” the blonde says, scowling. “He’s having a panic attack?”
“Yeah,” Shouto confirms. “Touya, I called Natsuo, he’s on his way.”
“Great,” Touya grumbles, breathing still shaky.
“Okay, we need a distraction,” Shouto mumbles as he runs through ideas in his head.
“A grenade, huh?” Bakugou grouses, reaching out to trace the tattoo visible through the cutoff sleeve on Touya’s right shoulder. “I’m on the UA boxing team, and my stage name is Dynamight.”
“Oh, right,” Shouto says, nodding to Bakugou. “Izuku talks about that a lot.”
Bakugou scowls. “Whatever. How the fuck d’you know Patchwork?”
“He’s my elder brother,” Shouto says and Bakugou’s eye twitches.
“Jesus, shut up,” Touya groans.
Shouto smiles and Bakugou snickers softly, the distraction is clearly working.
“Are you one of Touya’s clients?” Shouto asks curiously.
“I’m late, but that's why I was coming here,” Bakugou says, grimacing at his own tardiness. “I got held up at the fuckin’ gym with Shitty Hair. Shoulda been here at 6:00.”
The doorbell jingles and Touya doesn’t even register the tall, broad-shouldered white-haired man that enters the shop until he’s tugging Touya away from the counter and pushing him back down into the office chair.
“What the fuck, Natsu?” Touya snaps as fiercely as possible.
“None of that,” Natsuo says as he grabs Touya’s wrist to take his pulse. “I’m your friendly neighborhood paramedic, and I’m not gonna take your shit, Touy.”
“Friendly my ass,” Touya grumbles.
Natsuo ignores him and clicks on his penlight, “Look straight ahead.”
Touya blinks and squints at the brightness.
“Knock it off, asshole,” Natsuo chides. Touya forces his eyes wider and Natsuo moves closer, tilting his head curiously. “Hey… um, Shou, do you see that?”
Shouto steps closer to look at Touya’s face and his eyes widen slightly in surprise. Natsuo hums and clicks his light off.
“The fuck are you assholes looking at?” Touya asks, blinking away the new spots in his vision.
“Shut up,” Natsuo says as he pulls his phone out. “Hold still.”
“Fuck you,” Touya snaps.
Natsuo levels him with a glare. “I will knock your ass out if you try to fight me on this, Touya.”
Touya snaps his jaw shut and scowls. Natsuo nods and hands his penlight to Shouto, instructing him to turn it on and angle it a specific way. The paramedic then pulls out his phone and takes a series of pictures with the flash on.
“Get him some water while I look at this,” Natsuo says as he reclaims his pen light.
Shouto hurries off to the small break room while the middle Todoroki brother looks intently at the images on his phone.
“Here, it’s super faint and hard to see,” Natsuo says, holding his phone out.
Touya takes the offered device and blinks at the picture of his left eye. He furrows his brow and opens the image up in the phone’s editing app.
He zooms in, adjusts the saturation and brightness, and stares blank-faced at the very, very familiar soulmark.
“Here’s some water,” Shouto says, holding out a water bottle. Touya nods, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the image. “Do you recognize it?”
Natsuo makes a sound of surprise. “Whoa, do you?”
“You good there, Patches?” Bakugou asks, still standing at the other side of the counter.
Touya’s eyes snap up to meet the other man’s concerned expression. Touya bites his lower lip and leans forward to place Natsuo’s phone on the counter.
Bakugou looks at it and blinks once; twice. He turns his gaze back up to meet Touya's.
Both men have wide eyes as they stare at each other in awe.
“That’s your soulmark,” Bakugou says; Touya nods once.
“Holy shit,” Natsuo whispers. “Shouto, we should leave. Grab my phone and send him the picture.”
“Right,” Shouto whispers back.
The two not-so-quietly leave the shop and Bakugou and Touya continue to stare at each other.
Bakugou makes the first move, rounding the counter and stepping up to Touya. He leans down over the seated man and gently cups the tattooed man’s lax jaw in one hand as he angles his face up and looks into his turquoise eyes.
The blonde pouts, unable to see it. He moves closer, until his breath tickles Touya’s lips.
Overwhelmed by the sudden proximity of the man he’s been crushing on for the past couple of weeks and the knowledge that the man also happens to be his soulmate, the one person who will be his perfect half…
Touya tilts his head slightly and presses his lips to Bakugou’s.
Bakugou stiffens for a fraction of a second and then kisses him back. Their eyes flutter shut as their hands move up to pull each other closer.
The kisses are chaste and soft, tentative first kisses from two people who have spent years believing they would never have a moment like this.
When they break apart for air, they stay close. Bakugou opens his eyes first, Touya a moment later, and they both gasp lightly.
Their soul marks have changed—not all that unusual, but for two people like themselves, it’s stunning to see.
The once faint, barely visible mark is now an explosion of color—orange twisting with pale blue, speckles of red and white all along it.
“Holy fuck,” Bakugou breathes.
“It’s beautiful,” Touya says.
“Guess this means you’ll let me take you on a date, hah?” The blonde says, laughing a little breathlessly.
Touya hums and kisses him again. “Maybe.”
