Chapter Text
Katsuki forces himself to look ahead rather than at the back, where he is. Clenching his fists, he takes a deep breath and eyes the blackboard intently, with a murderous glare as if it had personally offended him. Some whispers arise, but he doesn’t give a single fuck about any of these extras.
When Nemuri enters, most of the students sigh as they take in their sexy teacher, but Katsuki simply uncaps his pen and gets ready to write down whatever absurd assignment she’s going to give them. By the way she’s smiling, and her eyes are shining, he bets it's some random bullshit she has just come up on her way here like always.
This is an art class; when one thinks about art class, the first thing that comes to one’s mind is drawing, painting, and if one is in a private school, even sculpting… but no, in his fucking high school, with this weirdo he unfortunately has as a teacher, they do draw but also—
“COLLAGE!” She exclaims, clapping her hands. “Today, you guys are going to pick a magic color and a mystical object,” much to Katsuki’s dismay, she starts to wiggle her fingers theatrically trying to engage them, “and then one of you gentlemen and ladies will help me carry from my car all these old magazines I’ve brought so you can do the task! Isn’t it wonderful? What a wonderful idea I’ve come up with, huh?”
Katsuki bangs his head on his desk as he grouses a string of curses under his breath. He can’t believe this shit. The only reason why he decided to take the art class was because it’s an easy perfect score: his parents work in the fashion industry, he’s got innate artistic skills, and even if he would rather die than recognise it, the workload and having to keep up with perfect scores for every other subject is taking a toll on him. He needed an easy class to relax a little and unwind… but this? This is borderline ridiculous. What’s gonna be next, finger painting?
Obviously, most of the extras immediately are on board, and a couple even start to fight among themselves to be the chosen ones to help their teacher. She’s considered to be the most beautiful woman in the building, the sexiest, yadda, yadda, yadda. Bullshit if you ask him. If any of these extras want pretty, they should glance at the back of their classroom. He is the epitome of perfect beauty… and the only reason why he hasn’t dropped out of this class and why he’s so tense. Fuck. The need to steal a glance at him comes crashing hard into him.
Swallowing, Katsuki curls his face into a sneer of pure hatred as he decides that glaring at his classmates is the best cover; after all, he’s just glaring at them, and he is one of his classmates, nothing suspicious there.
Some of the extras stop yapping their mouths and quickly avert their eyes when Katsuki starts to glare at them, and when his eyes reach the back of the class, his heart skips a beat as he takes him in: Shouto Todoroki, the prettiest motherfucker he has ever seen. The boy has pouty full lips that are inviting to be kissed, a nose that is cute as fuck, and his eyes… those mismatched eyes that, depending on the lighting, seem to be one hue or another aaaand that have just connected with Katsuki’s. Well, fuck.
He quickly turns around and wants to smack himself in the head. Could he have been more obvious? He should have grimaced at him like he would have done with any of these extras, but… but he’s not sure. Shouto seems kind of unapproachable, just like Katsuki is, but on a different level. While he’s loud and explosive, Shouto is quiet and calm, and his expression is always set in a blank canvas by default. Katsuki would like to ask him out, but if he sneers at him, that would be kind of counterproductive, right?
The problem lies in the fact that one, he’s Katsuki Bakugou, he has a rep; two, he doesn’t know anything about Shouto, only that he’s fucking good-looking and that has given Katsuki more wet dreams than he would like to recognize, and three… he has no idea how one is supposed to ask another person out. Should he simply use this stupid class and once it’s over, simply go there and say: oi, you look pretty as fuck, wanna hang out and maybe kiss?
That sounds good, but he has a feeling Shouto would impassively blink at him and say: thanks, but no thanks.
Rejection is not something Katsuki appreciates or enjoys.
While he’s been so-not having this mild mental breakdown, Nemuri and a couple of guys have returned with a huge pile of old magazines and what seems like sticker rolls. Then, she pulls out a couple of plastic bags and shakes them.
“This is where your future awaits you! Well, at least for the rest of the class. Alrighty, my sweet little darlings, I’ll move around, and you’ll introduce your hands in the bags of destiny~”
He bites his tongue to not scream. Even if he has quite an attitude, Katsuki would never do anything during class beyond some sassy remarks. He doesn’t want to mess up with his grades. This is why, when she comes along, shaking the stupid bags, he says nothing, just frowns, and, curling his lip, he takes out two pieces of paper.
“What have you got?” She asks him.
Unfolding it, he sees Red and Dress. Rolling his eyes, he conjures up a nice design his mom has been sketching for the past few weeks. He guesses he could simply do that with magazine cuts in hues of red; that’s what a collage is, right? Sliding his phone out, he quickly googles it, and yeah, it’s definitely that.
He takes a couple of magazines that one of the extras hands him and quickly cuts away every piece he sees that looks vaguely red.
He guesses he was right, this class is so easy even a brain-dead zombie can do it… the downside is that since he doesn’t need to be actively thinking, his mind slips back to the pretty guy and how to approach him. What does he know about Shouto? Nothing. He doesn’t even know if they have been classmates for years, if he has moved recently, etc. Katsuki has never bothered to keep up with his peers, and only Shouto’s good looks have made him realize that hey, there’s a hottie in his class.
The guy has no friends, or at least, he doesn’t seem to talk to anyone, and if someone dares to come too close to his personal space, he clams up and simply stares at them unblinking, answering in a dull voice tone with monosyllables. Kind of neat if you ask him. He hates clingy people.
When class ends, he signs his name with neat handwriting and hands his assignment, smirking proudly as he sees he’s pretty much the only one who has managed to finish.
As always, Shouto is long gone. Scratching his neck, Katsuki exits the classroom, deep in his thoughts about how to approach him.
People part away from his path as they are afraid of him. He doesn’t mind, not really, but he still doesn’t really understand how he has got this reputation and the hundreds of rumors that run free along these halls regarding his persona. Some go from him being a mob boss waiting to be of age to make it official, to others that are half-truth, like how he beat a guy last spring in the parking lot of the gym. He did that, but not because the guy ‘dared to even glance at him’, no, he did it because the perverted little shit was trying to force himself on a poor girl… so Katsuki forced on his skull how fucked up that is.
He puts his thoughts about Shouto in standby, as he needs to focus on his chemistry class and taking notes, but once that class is over, he keeps thinking about it, and so on for the rest of his day.
While he’s walking back home, his phone beeps and he sees it’s his old man, saying that he and the hag are going to be late and that he’s going to have to make dinner and probably eat alone. Whatever, as if he needed them.
Kicking some pebbles from the path, he halts mid-kick. Wait. His old man has just given him an idea. If Katsuki doesn’t recall it wrongly, his dad once talked to him, trying to do some kind of weird bonding shit between father and son —or so he called it— and the man talked on and on about doing mixtapes to his old girlfriends and shit like that. That’s kind of perfect. If he does mixtapes to Shouto, he won’t be invading his personal space and would test the waters to see if the man is receptive —and he won’t expose his ass that much; a true win-win situation.
Tapping his fingers over his desk, he waits patiently for Shouto to enter the class. He has left the mixtape on his locker, and now he’s waiting for some kind of reaction. He has spent almost three days doing that shit, as he had to go out and buy tapes, and guess what, that stuff turns out to be old and kind of hard to find, but whatever, it feels righter than putting together a lame-ass playlist on Spotify.
The mixtape took him some effort, and since the length of the tape was limited, he had to choose his favorite songs very carefully. Picking which song should open the mixtape was also tough to the point that he ended up tossing a coin as he couldn’t decide which one was better, and he refused to spend more time on this—three days is already bad enough, what is he now, some indecisive loser? In the end, the chosen one was Kashmir from Led Zeppelin, followed by Enjoy the Silence from Depeche Mode. He closed the tape with Black Betty by Ram Jam.
Biting his lip, he stares ahead as the class starts to fill, and still there's no sight of Shouto.
All this building anticipation makes him feel like an idiot when he sees the boy enter the class… and nothing. Then again, what the fuck was he expecting exactly? He has simply written with blocky letters the names of the songs and which track they are, as well as the time frame he has calculated they must be, that’s it. But that last bit of info is not even relevant, as one can’t choose the time, only skip a track in a Walkman.
Cursing himself in silence, his aura must be even gloomier than usual, as no one dares to even breathe in his direction. They do another stupid collage, and he half-asses his on the first half hour of the class, before he kicks his own butt and starts to do it correctly.
This class might be ridiculous, but he’s no quitter, and he wants a well-earned perfect score.
The day passes by, and he recognizes that he snaps at everybody he comes across way more than usual. When he arrives home, he sulks on his bed for an hour before he moves on, ready to finish his homework and do his daily hour of study. One never knows when a surprise exam might appear, and he won’t risk it.
The problem is that his desk has all the recording tapes shit and that annoys him a lot, to the point that he simply groans and changes into his workout outfit. Maybe running around town will help him calm down.
Sweat is dribbling down his back, and he knows his face is red from how hard he’s pushing himself when he sees Shouto. Almost stumbling with his own feet, he quickly catches himself mid-air before he does something embarrassing like face-planting in the middle of the street, and quickly hides behind a tree.
Yeah, not suspicious at all, just a guy chilling near a tree observing another one. Completely normal…
But none of that matters as he realizes something: Shouto is listening to a Walkman. What are the odds that it’s not his mixtape?
His stomach jerks with jitters, and he feels more sweat sticking his hair down to his nape as he takes in the scene before him. Shouto is on a bank, eyes closed as his fingers tap at the beat of the music along with his foot. He seems so calm, beautiful, and ethereal that Katsuki curses himself for not having brought his phone with him. He could be sneaking a picture of him to ogle it whenever he wanted, well, damn his fucking luck.
Smiling, he runs back home.
Shouto likes his present.
The pretty boy is listening to his mixtape. Rushing, he takes the fastest shower he has ever taken and deems that after he’s done with his homework, he’ll cut down his study time to just 30 minutes, and then he’ll start putting together another mixtape.
Katsuki is already thinking about his next playlist as he writes down his literature essay due in a couple of weeks.
After the fourth mixtape, he dares to leave a message along with a small pack of strawberry chewing gum. He has seen Shouto eating strawberry-flavored shit, so wild guess right there.
What’s your favorite song?
Katsuki is not sure how Shouto is going to answer him, since after all, Katsuki always sneaks around, and as far as he knows, no one has ever seen him leaving the tapes on Shouto’s locker. He has considered leaving the tape on his desk or chair, but that would easily give away that they share the art class.
He gets his answer the very next day, as he sees a sticky note on Shouto’s locker.
Enjoy the Silence
He can’t help snorting as he takes the note and carefully folds it as he keeps moving down the hall.
Of course, Mr. Chatterbox would choose that one. It’s only when he arrives home and dares to unfold the note and re-read the three simple words over and over, admiring the neat handwriting, that he notices the small message written in the back.
What’s yours?
“Every single one, moron,” he whispers fondly. But huffing, he sits on his desk chair and considers it.
Does he have a favorite one? He doesn’t really think so. He has a bunch of favorites, but right now, none come to the top of his head screaming pick me, pick me up! Lately, it’s true that he has been listening to Minerva from Deftones on loop, but would that be considered his favorite? Maybe of the week, but that’s it.
He decides to use that as a criterion and comes up with a really weird playlist, as it ends up including classics like Space Truckin’ from Deep Purple and modern stuff like Obey from Bring Me The Horizon.
He adds a small message rather than just the track list.
I don’t have a particular favorite, but these are the ones I’ve heard the most these past couple of months.
He won’t deny he feels a little bit bummed when the day after dropping the mixtape, he sees there’s no note waiting for him. That day, they have art class, and Katsuki is mindlessly spinning his pencil as he considers whether he should try to actually approach Shouto once class is over. It’s clear that, like himself, he’s not that unapproachable… and the fucker seems to be getting prettier and prettier as days go by, or at least, that’s his perception.
When Nemuri finally enters the room, he freezes as he knows something fucked up is coming.
“GUUUUUUYS!” She starts to clap her hands, and yep, Katsuki’s fears get ultimately confirmed: she only does this when she has some weird shit on her agenda. “Today, we are going to start to work in pairs for our next project. Hooray!”
Frozen still in his seat, Katsuki glares at her. Okay, he might have been considering approaching Shouto, but he wasn’t actually ready, not yet, at least, but no way in hell he can let some extra take this golden opportunity to approach the other boy.
Gripping the pencil tightly, he clicks his tongue in annoyance as his classmates are already moving all around, causing a huge ruckus, while she hasn’t even explained what the assignment is about.
“WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY!?” He roars, slamming his hand on the desk. “She hasn’t even said what the fuck we are supposed to do.”
Nemuri nods. “Thank you so much, darling~ Well, as Katsuki has said, you guys haven’t even heard what you're going to be working on for the next two weeks. I do love to see your passion, oh youth! But maybe you should know what you need a partner for, wouldn’t you agree?”
A low mumble overtakes the classroom, and Katsuki grimaces as he can feel some people glancing at him. Without sparing a look at them, he simply flips them off. Fucking Extras. Their teacher chuckles, amused and used to his behavior, before she turns around and starts writing a complicated as fuck description of what is basically a photography assignment on the blackboard. That’s it. They have to take pictures of shit that ‘matters to them’ and make a small portfolio for the last day of the month, aka two weeks from now.
Huffing, Katsuki leans back, swinging his chair over its rear legs. Why do they need to work in pairs for this? He knows how to work a camera, the old man has several professional ones all around their place, and whenever he tried to calm Katsuki after whatever might have riled him up, if they couldn’t go hiking, he would let him be his little helper with his work. This is how he knows so much about fashion, it's not thanks to the hag —well, she has also contributed, he guesses— but mainly his dad.
Once the task has been explained, the chaos returns. He cringes as he hears the screeching of the tables and chairs all around.
Clenching his fist, he takes a deep breath and steels himself to look as if he wasn’t as nervous as he actually feels, when he stands up and goes nonchalantly towards the back of the class, where luckily, Shouto is still alone.
“Hey there, wanna partner up? I have a camera.”
He wants to punch himself in the face. ‘I have a camera?’ Everybody fucking does. Nemuri never said that phones weren’t an option…
Shouto glances up with an unreadable expression, and Katsuki’s breath hitches as he sees that holy fuck, his eyelashes are bicolored like his hair and extremely long and curved. Shouto is even more stunning up close, and he has a hard time not bending over and touching him. Is he even real? He’s having a serious time trying to decide if maybe he’s just hallucinating, when the boy simply says, “Okay.”
…
That’s it?
Swallowing, Katsuki nods numbly and, putting his hands on his jeans’ pockets, he considers what he should do now. Glancing around, he realizes most of these extras are actually giggling and talking among themselves. Should he drag his chair over here as well to talk with him?
Shouto’s face doesn’t help, as he actually looks kind of bored over this whole ordeal. Katsuki won’t admit it, but somehow, he had a little bit of expectation that maybe the fucker would recognize him as the mixtapes’ author… Whatever.
Spinning over his heels, he marches towards his desk and takes his shit along with his chair before he goes back to Shouto’s desk. He sees that the only recognition the other has shown towards their new partnership is cleaning half his desk for him to use. Well, he guesses that's something.
“Alright, so, taking pictures, huh?”
Shouto hums and tilts his head as he seems to be studying his desk. Frowning, Katsuki follows his gaze and freezes as he realizes that Shouto is looking at his notebook.
At his written page.
At his handwriting.
Well, fuck. Does he actually know? Has he recognized it?
“Polaroids.”
“Huh?”
Shouto’s sudden talking leaves him lost. Polaroids? What does he mean?
“Our project,” the boy clarifies. “Lately, I fancy old stuff. So, polaroids.”
He can only nod dumbly. “O-okay.”
Tapping the tip of his pen over his notebook, he tries not to stare at the man too much, as it’d be too creepy, but turns out that Shouto has no regard for that matter, as Katsuki can feel him staring.
Glancing right back at him, both boys seem to be holding a staring contest without saying anything. Katsuki hears the rising whispers and his name mixed along with Shouto’s, but damn if he gives a single fuck: he’s too captivated by Shouto’s eyes. They are simply… beautiful. Breathtaking.
The impulse to lean over and kiss him intensifies. He still doesn’t know anything about him, but he’s lusting pretty hardcore over here.
“What should we take polaroids of?” He whispers hoarsely at last.
Shouto finally breaks eye contact and hums as he glances over Katsuki’s back.
“Well, Baku—”
“Katsuki.”
Shouto smiles a little at that, and something flashes through his eyes. “Katsuki. Well, Katsuki,” a shiver runs down Katsuki’s spine, “there it says we have to capture ‘that which matters the most to us.’ What would that be for you?”
Okay, wow. Shouto’s eyes are so intense… and the question is so invasive, he can’t help sneering at him, which is definitely not how one charms the boy you want to ask out. Damn it. But rather than recede in fear or show any negative emotion at his outburst, Shouto remains impassive, still waiting for his answer.
“I don’t fucking know,” he replies with honesty.
The bicolored boy nods. “I see. Well, I don’t know about it either. I guess that’s the challenging part of the assignment.”
“Yeah.”
They glance at each other once more. One white lock of hair slides over Shouto’s grey eye, and Katsuki wants to tuck it back in its place. He’s sure that’s what makes him blurt, “wanna go out with me?” Shouto blinks slowly, and Katsuki stills as he realizes what he has just said. “To do the work! The homework.”
His heart pounds on his chest as he prays to whatever superior power might be out there listening, that Shouto believes his more-than-obvious cover-up lie.
“Okay.”
Now it’s his turn to blink, perplexed and gaping a little… it has worked? Okay, wow, he'd better seize it then. Clearing his throat, he nods. “Good, okay, I mean. Uh— O-once classes are over, I guess we could meet at the entrance and like, decide where to go and what to do. That okay with you?”
Shouto just nods, and Katsuki imitates him. Well, he already knew that the boy wasn’t exactly talkative, so nothing new here, really.
Focusing back on his notebook, he tries to be productive as he writes down possible cameras they can use that he knows his father has lying around, unused. He thinks they could simply print the pictures as Polaroids and be done with it. That way, they can guarantee the quality.
He’s doing a nice job until Shouto starts to hum a song that he easily recognizes since it’s Enjoy the Silence, Shouto’s favorite among all the ones he has recorded for him, or so he said in the note. Katsuki might have been listening to it on a daily basis ever since…
Clenching his teeth and the pen, he tries to ignore it, but his eyes betray him as they move up, looking at Shouto… who is already looking at him.
“Do you know it?” He asks him.
“Huh?”
“The song?” Shouto clarifies.
He decides to play it dumb. “Yeah, it’s like an old one, right?”
Shouto hums in agreement. “I’ve recently discovered it. I’m afraid I’m not really well-versed in a lot of things.”
That makes the blond frown and forget about his task at hand. “Like what?”
Shrugging, Shouto simply looks out of the window. “I don’t know, general things.”
“Well, that’s not cryptic at all,” Katsuki mumbles. But Shouto’s words make him remember an idea he got at 3 am, when one’s numb brain has the best and worst ideas. In such a state, Katsuki dared to imagine what would happen once he told Shouto that he found him handsome and that he was the one behind the mixtapes, finally asking him out. This is why he slips for the second time, “Ever been to the arcade in the mall?”
Tilting his head, mismatched eyes bore into him with curiosity. “I’m afraid I haven’t.”
“We should go there. Out. Together.” FUCK! He panics and tries to savage it quickly. “As friends. Yeah. We should be friends. Two lone wolves.”
Shouto’s mouth hints a tiny smile. “Isn’t that kind of contradictory? If one is a lone wolf, pairing with another one would make them not be alone.”
“Well, they can be alone together.”
“Fall Out Boy.”
For a beat, Katsuki is too stunned to say anything back. “What?”
Shouto now truly smiles. “Alone Together is a song from Fall Out Boy. I’ve recently discovered it as well.” To prove it, he starts to sing the chorus of the song softly.
Wow, Shouto not only listens to his mixtapes, but he seems to have memorized them? His chest hurts from how hard his heart is pounding. It’s only then that he realizes that he’s acting like a stupid teen in love, which he is not, he refuses to believe such nonsense.
Coughing to compose himself, he curtly nods. “Yeah, I’ve heard of them.” And listened to that song for hours. “So, maybe we could hit the arcade? Maybe you fall in love with it, and we end up taking sick pictures in there.”
The pretty boy seems to consider it, and leaning over, he bats his eyelashes as he whispers, “Only if you pay for it.”
“Deal.”