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Katsuki Bakugou was born on a rainy day in the spring so that summer could worship him. It made Shouto so incredibly jealous that he wanted to fight the sun.
The very same sun that burned and peeled his own skin adored Katsuki in all the ways Shouto wished he could. Its rays lovingly painted white-gold flecks through blond hair and Shouto wondered what those strands would feel like between his fingers. The sun also tanned Katsuki’s skin until it turned the color of warm honey, peppering freckles like the kisses Shouto wanted to give him across his nose and the tops of his shoulders. Katsuki came alive in the summertime, while Shouto suffered in silence. My quirk is better in hot weather, the explosive teen always boasted, sunset-red eyes full of pride, because of course his quirk was at its most powerful when Shouto had to work twice as hard at cooling his body temperature enough to use his right side in battle.
Katsuki was very much like the sun, Shouto figured, and he himself was a longing Icarus. He knew he would combust if he got too close to the other, but he wanted nothing more than to be consumed by the blaze that was Katsuki Bakugou.
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As a class they had all decided that they would take a weekend reatreat to the beach. Much to everyone’s astonishment, it had been Bakugou who proposed the idea, and his friends were delighted that they did not have to coerce him to participate the way they frequently did. The plan fell serendipitously into place when Momo meekly revealed that her family owned a vacation home on a private stretch of beach as if it was the most casual thing in the world. While such luxuries weren’t unusual to Shouto, he noted that humble Ochako had turned sickly pale in the face at the prospect.
And so Shouto sat on a towel underneath a wide beach umbrella with Momo lounging at his side, the girl reading a book and occasionally making conversation with him. His legs were outstretched, and his arms supported his weight behind him as he watched Bakugou and Kirishima dashing along the shoreline in a fierce, quirkless race. They played dirty, shoving each other and kicking out to trip one another in dastardly efforts to thwart their opponent while the rest of their squad cheered on. Kirishima grinned broadly and suddenly scooped his friend up by the waist, cackling devilishly as he flung Bakugou into the ocean. He sprinted ahead and won the race while Bakugou shrieked in indignation behind him, wading out of the sea like the sun rising over the horizon. Denki, Mina, and the others erupted into laughter and from some meters away, Todoroki snickered quietly to himself. Somehow, like always, Bakugou picked out the sound of his voice above the clamor of all the others and locked onto him, a missile heading straight for the hot and cold fledgling hero.
“What the fuck do you think you’re laughing at, icyhot?!”
Oops. Todoroki couldn’t help the way his lips formed the tiniest of smiles, and he ignored the exasperated look in Yaoyorozu’s dark eyes as she wordlessly tried to discourage him from saying something impulsive for the sake of making Bakugou detonate. If she knew him at all, she wouldn’t have bothered with a warning. Or perhaps it was because of how well she knew him that she tried to deter him to no avail. He would lay down his life to get a rise out of Katsuki, probably.
“Good effort, Bakugou. Second place is still very commendable,” he called out, paying no mind to Momo’s frail plea— Shouto, no! He rose to his feet and fearlessly faced Bakugou as the older boy accosted him.
“Go die, asshole. It doesn’t count if he fucking cheated,” Katsuki growled, extending a hand toward Shouto’s face and curling his fingers menacingly.
If Katsuki was the sun, Shouto mused, losing focus, then he must have been a planet in his orbit, always circling him, feeling the heat, but never touching. There was always this painful distance between them and although Katsuki’s hand was popping threateningly, a firecracker so close to his eyes and nose that it threatened to singe his eyelashes, Shouto imagined what it would be like to press his cheek into the palm of that brutal hand and surrender his life.
“What are you fucking staring at?!”
“Race me next,” Todoroki blurted out and Bakugou bared his teeth. It might have been a smile, but Todoroki could never be sure. The uncertainty was addictive.
“I hope you planned your fucking funeral,” Katsuki challenged, digging his heels into the sand and bracing himself to start sprinting.
“You have seaweed in your hair.”
“That’s it—!!” Bakugou screamed and Todoroki darted off as fast as his legs could carry him with the other teen right behind him.
Shouto expected to lose the race because he knew Katsuki was faster than him, with and without their quirks. What he did not expect was the powerful explosion behind him that propelled him forward and into the sand. He quickly flipped over, realizing that Katsuki had launched himself upwards, and within seconds, he was hurtling down towards Shouto, landing on top of him and pinning him to the ground.
“I thought we weren’t using quirks. You cheated.”
“New race, new rules, stupid. I win,” Katsuki sneered, face only inches away and Shouto thought he was hallucinating when he saw Katsuki’s eyes flicker to his mouth for just a second.
Shouto could have responded with an earnest no, you didn’t win, because you didn’t even cross the finish line. Instead, he wound his arms around Katsuki’s neck, tugging him down to press their lips together. He decided he would worry about the consequences later when Katsuki uttered a noise of surprise and fervently returned the kiss as if he had been starving for it. In that moment, Shouto hoped that summer would last forever.