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It goes like this: Katsuki is in love with Shouto.
He comes to that conclusion near the end of first year and it’s—strangely pretty simple.
Katsuki thinks it’s probably the simplicity of the answer that’s getting to him, though. Maybe, though, the fact that the answer for such difficult, complex, complicated feelings is something as simple as love is what’s getting to him. Or maybe—it’s the fact that there’s nothing difficult, complex, or complicated about it at all. Not really, not truly. Profound, if anything, maybe, Katsuki thinks. Yeah. Probably.
Because really, there’s nothing complex about the way Katsuki feels when he looks at him, he realizes. It’s straightforward. Frustratingly straightforward, too, if anything. Because when Katsuki’s sitting there, trying to do his work, minding his business, and the doors to Alliance Heights open and his stomach jumps a little at the voice giving one-word answers to Deku, it’s clear. When Katsuki’s hanging on to every one-word answer and two-syllable word that comes out of his mouth, just to bask in the voice that makes him feel like he’s swimming if he closes his eyes gently enough—he knows what that is.
He knows what he’s feeling when he can’t stop his own gaze from being glued to him whenever he is in the room. How his mind supplies sweet adjectives and poetic comparisons every time he gets a look at his hair or the flushed tip of his nose or his gentle eyes and pretty pink lips. Like strawberries. Peach. Something soft and fuzzy, like cats. Kittens? Yeah. He’s a kitten—that’s fitting in the weirdest way.
When those same pretty pink lips plague his mind constantly and Katsuki can’t stop thinking about how they’d taste, how they’d feel; It’d be lasting, for one. It’d be memorable. It’d be something Katsuki knows he’d chase after the first taste—it’d be something he’d begin to crave, something he’d start to need to make him feel like everything was right in the world. He knows what it is. All of it. He isn’t stupid, he isn’t oblivious to what his own heart wants, what his hands crave to hold, or what kind of touch from who his skin is itching for.
It’s burning. Burning, burning, burning and his mind knows what can cool it. Knows who can cool it. Who can make the burn go away because—he already does it. Just not with his touch. Katsuki doesn’t need to be close to him for the burn to cool, but he longs for skin-to-skin contact, anyways.
So yeah, it’s simple. Really simple. Katsuki loves—is in love with—Shouto.
And it’s not hard. Not at all. Just earnest. It’s deep. It runs deep. But it’s easy. So easy, in fact, so earnest and obvious, that by second year, it’s nothing Katsuki hides. Wouldn’t be able to, even if he tried, but he doesn’t anyway, so it’s whatever.
By second year, when class 1A is class 2A—everyone knows. Everyone except the one person who probably should know. But besides that, it isn’t a big deal or anything.
It’s just—another thing.
It feels kind of… Good. In some odd, strange way, that it’s out there, in the open. Maybe because it feels ensured, affirmed—the fact that it has to be them. The fact that Katsuki is in love with Shouto and so they’ll have to happen, eventually, regardless of circumstance. It’s written in some magical, enchanted papers, it’s fate—they belong together and they’ll be together; Katsuki’s just caught on way sooner than he was probably meant to.
When the three stooges (Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero) have successfully forced their way into Katsuki’s room on what’s supposed to be a lone study night for him, and he’s forced to do his homework with the constant bickering and obnoxious laughter as some kind of background noise, and the topic of ‘crushes’ come up, sure, maybe Katsuki tenses a little at the mention of it, but it’s nothing to make a fuss over. Because it’s a done deal already, nothing to worry about.
“But we already know you’ve got it bad for Midoriya,” Sero laughs as he pokes at Kaminari’s side. The latter who’s been subjected to torment and teasing for the past, maybe, fifteen minutes. Katsuki glances over his notebook from where he’s got it propped on his legs as he leans against the headboard of his bed and he smirks at Kaminari’s flushed ears.
Kaminari loosens his posture and looks to the side as he says, “Honestly it’s not even that big. I just think he’s cute, so it’s whatever…”
They all know it’s a lie. Kaminari and Deku have been dancing around each other since the middle of first year and it’s starting to get exhausting just watching them—what they have is complicated.
It’s shy and scared and wary and it’s the exact opposite of what Katsuki has with Shouto.
Sure, Katsuki isn’t with Shouto, but he’s got it all figured out already. They aren’t dancing and Katsuki isn’t scared. He’s waiting. Waiting for Shouto to catch up, catch on—catch something. Because he hasn’t yet. And it’s the only reason they aren’t officially anything yet. Katsuki knows, and maybe Shouto does, too. He just isn’t aware that he knows Katsuki is the one. But he’ll wait.
He’ll wait.
“You gotta get him already, man,” Kirishima grins at Kaminari, punching his shoulder softly. “You gotta. Cause like, things like this are time-sensitive sometimes. You know, you wait too long, and then,” Kirishima snaps his fingers, “suddenly they’re gone. Not exactly trying to rush what you’re not ready to do, but—just remember it’s better to try and fail than to not try at all.”
Kaminari looks unsure as he pulls at his lip and Sero bumps his shoulder with his own, “What’re you waiting for, anyway? You both like each other and you both know you do, so…?”
Kaminari shakes his head and shrugs, “I don’t know guys… I don’t know. I’m just—scared that it’ll change everything.”
“It will,” Kirishima shrugs, “But that’s not always a bad thing.”
“Yeah. I-I’ll figure it out—just- stop picking on me! Don’t any of you like someone? I can’t be the only one suffering here. Sero?”
Sero purses his lips with a hum as he shakes his head.
“Kiri?”
“Just me and my weights, bro.”
“Okayy, then how about… you, Kac-chan?” Kaminari’s smile is smug as he hums over at Katsuki, wiggling his brows, eyes dazzling with mischief. The excitement and hope to stir trouble don’t last too long, though.
Kirishima frowns at Kaminari, “Dude. You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“I’m pretty sure Bakugou’s in love with Todoroki,” Sero supplies, shifting from where he’s sitting as he pulls out his phone. He yawns and narrows his eyes at his screen, “Or something along those lines.”
“Wait—what?” Kaminari’s eyes go wide and he’s looking from Sero to Katsuki frantically, “Really? Wait, like actually?”
Katsuki looks up for a second and catches Kaminari’s gaze. He can’t help but let out an amused huff before refocusing on his math homework, finishing up the last question.
“Yeah,” Kirishima nods, and then states matter of factly, “Bakugou is in love with Todoroki.”
He shrugs and scoots over to where Sero is to look over his shoulder and see what he’s looking at on his phone. Kaminari stays, though, like he’s considering the information, perhaps wondering why it seems like the news has already been known and established (because it has been, for a while, but Kaminari’s behind on a lot of things so that isn’t too much of a shock, either). It isn’t news, though. And it isn’t a secret, either.
“So,” Kaminari tilts his head, “Uh. Does he like you back, then?”
Katsuki hums, “Probably.”
“Huh… Well, okay. Then what are you guys waiting for?”
“For him to realize it,” Katsuki says as he scans his finished paper. He slides it into his notebook and places it on the table beside his bed. Katsuki shrugs, “He’s kind of an idiot, so.”
They stare at each other for a second longer. And then, Kaminari grins, “Whatever you say, dude,” and he lunges over to where Kirishima and Sero are, laughing at some meme.
And Katsuki’s phone chimes. He glances at the notification; A text from Shouto and Katsuki smiles. Shouto’s idiocy is confirmed almost immediately at that moment.
Katsuki kind of has to wait on Shouto for longer than he’d like to. But it isn’t that big a deal.
Maybe it’s on him for catching on to his own feelings so fast. Or maybe it’s on Shouto for being dumb and catching on so slowly. Or… Katsuki decides it’s nobody’s fault. Because it’s supposed to be like this, really. And like he already said, it isn’t that big a deal. And he doesn’t hate it, the waiting. Far from it, actually.
Because he isn’t just waiting. He’s watching, too. Watching Shouto figure it out. And it’s kind of beautiful. It’s mesmerizing, and makes Katsuki’s heart flutter; The fact that he can understand the too-long gazes Shouto has on him when he thinks Katsuki’s looked away. Or when Katsuki can feel that Shouto’s fingers are lingering on his skin for two seconds longer than they need to after they finish sparring.
He can see it.
Katsuki flexes his bruised fingers and Shouto sits up from where he’d been knocked to the ground suddenly to say, “I feel like I’m floating.” through his pants. He’s out of breath, hair is damp and stringy, sticking to his flushed face, and he squints up at the sun from where they’re on the ground.
Katsuki turns to him, drops his hand in his lap, and narrows his eyes, “The hell does that mean? You need me to take you to the infirmary or something?”
Shouto immediately shakes his head and he—he laughs. It’s more like a puff. An amused puff of air. But the corners of his lips turn up and he blinks a few times, “Ah- no, I’m alright,” he turns to look at Katsuki.
And Katsuki knows those eyes. They’re fond. Shouto narrows his gaze like he’s trying to figure Katsuki out and he shakes his head again.
“I mean. I feel like I’m floating when I’m with you. Always.”
Katsuki’s looking back at him. And they sit, holding each other’s gaze, sharing an understanding that he’s sure Shouto doesn’t even know they share yet. He’s catching on. He’s catching on, and Katsuki wants to say it—he wants Shouto to cool the burn with his touch always, always. But he won’t. Not yet.
“Yeah, Halfie,” Katsuki gets to his feet and holds out a hand to help Shouto up, “Me, too.”
Shouto looks up, a little confused, “You- feel like you’re floating when you’re with me?”
“Always.” He takes it upon himself to grab Shouto’s hand and pull him onto his feet. Katsuki fixes his gloves, “Let’s get back to this.”
Shouto looks a little dazed, but he gets back into position. It’s evident that something’s on his mind the rest of the sparring, though. Katsuki doesn’t question it and doesn't confront him. Because he already knows. And all he has to do is wait. So he does exactly that—he waits.
Katsuki waits through the entirety of their second year. And a majority of their third year.
Deku and Kaminari have already figured themselves out by that point, actually. Toward the end of second year was when it happened for them, and it was kind of big. Deku almost died, for one, and Kaminari couldn’t stop crying for the fucking life of him, and it was raining when they kissed, and Deku was bleeding from, like seventeen different places. It was the most cliche confession Katsuki had ever seen. But it was kind of beautiful to watch, too—they’re beautiful to watch sometimes—which is something Katsuki will never say out loud.
Instead, he drags himself across the common room and glances at them cuddling on the couch with a scoff of, “Get a room,” to the two before joining Shouto in the kitchen, where he’s attempting to make some kind of dinner for himself. Katsuki assumes it’s soba. That’s only going by the pot of water on the stove that is, presumably, supposed to be boiling.
He taps the counter as he watches it and Katsuki folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall as he watches Shouto. Shouto knows he’s there. And Katsuki knows Shouto knows that he’s there. It’s kind of routine, this entire thing. But it isn’t one that ever gets old.
“I’ve watched videos,” Shouto tells him with a sigh, finally looking over his shoulder and back at Katsuki. And Katsuki raises his brows with a hum. Shouto continues, “I think I can do it this time, really. I’m trying my best.”
“Alright. Then don’t let me stop you—and how about you turn the burner on to actually get that water boiling,” Katsuki hops on top of one of the counters as Shouto jumps and does as he’s told.
Katsuki begins his assistance five minutes in.
And again, it’s routine, but not one that ever gets old—Katsuki doesn’t think it can. Not when every time he holds Shouto’s hand to help him stir, he gets to squeeze a little longer and a little tighter every day. Not when Shouto grips his waist as he moves around the kitchen a little more sure, a little more firm with every meal they make together. Not when Shouto laughs a little easier and Katsuki’s lips are more prone to curling up after every basic cooking rule Shouto learns.
It’s easy, being with Shouto, teaching Shouto, admiring Shouto. Because it’s routine. Loving Shouto’s always been easy, though, so it isn’t much of a surprise.
And when they finish the dish, Katsuki gets to press the chopsticks to Shouto’s lips and hold his gaze as he tastes what they made together. And Katsuki can see himself, feel himself having nights like this three, five, ten, twenty years into the future. And he can feel himself loving Shouto’s soft smile every time he eats something he likes. Katsuki feels like he’s looking through the eyes of himself eons from now, looking at a Shouto eons from now, and he gets the feeling that nothing will change except for maybe bands on each of their fourth finger and a few papers (that aren’t really needed) that let everyone know they’re each others. And maybe a few kisses here, three special words thrown there, and a name for this ‘thing’ with each other that they have.
But for now, Shouto opens his eyes and says, “it’s delicious,” as he pulls away from Katsuki.
For now, Katsuki waits. And he turns back to the food for plating. For now, his ears perk when they catch the sound of Uraraka’s laugh and Deku’s voice, not too far from them at all. He looks up from where he’s twisting the soba noodles onto Shouto’s plate.
“So,” Uraraka starts as she shakes her head, scrolling through her phone, “Todoroki’s in love with Bakugou, huh,”
And Deku’s tapping at his notebook with the end of his pencil as he nods, rather distractedly, “Yeah…” he says, squinting at some words on the page, “I think so. Has been for a while. Probably.”
Katsuki glances behind himself and Shouto’s looking at his phone, but he’s smiling. Small.
And then he looks up, over to where Uraraka is—and then to where Katsuki is. And Katsuki keeps looking, and they’re looking at each other. And they smile. Yeah. For a while.
It happens at the end of their third year. One week before graduation, Kaminari thinks it’d be a good idea to throw a pre-celebration party, just for class 3A since the actual graduation party for the Hero Course would include both hero classes and teachers. And they all agree because the bond between their class and their class alone is something that should be cherished. They’d been through a lot, and they deserved to have a night of celebration to themselves to bask in what they shared.
It’s quiet as they clean up the aftermath, everyone hangs around the common room to clean, but not much of it is actually getting done. It’s mostly quiet, easy conversation. There are few laughs, more tears than anything—mostly from Deku, Kirishima, Momo, Mina, and Hagakure—but a strange kind of peace despite that. Something twists in Katsuki’s chest, something tugs and pulls, and hurts and makes him grit his teeth if he thinks about him too long, but it’s fine.
It’s ending. And again, that’s fine, because they’d all still have each other regardless.
But this—being in the dorms and living with the class he’d spent countless days and fought countless battles and laughed and cried and felt during countless special moments with—it’s something special. And it is ending. And it hurts.
Shouto washes dishes and Katsuki dries them and they’re both silent.
Katsuki doesn’t really know if there’s anything to say. Not goodbye because regardless of their plans after graduation—Katsuki would make sure there isn’t a goodbye for them—and nothing sentimental, because that would point to some kind of ending which isn’t what’s happening for them. Still.
He’s hyper-aware of the way his heart is beating, hyper-aware of the sweat in his palms and the heat in his cheeks and when he looks over at Shouto to take another dish to dry—it kind of just feels right. Because Shouto is beautiful, standing there, washing dishes, thinking to himself silently. He’s beautiful because he’s being him, always, always.
So Katsuki says it. He grabs the plate from Shouto, places the cloth on the dish to begin drying, and he says it.
“I’m in love with you, by the way.”
Shouto pauses. He stares at Katsuki, the water is running, the dish is clean, and it’s quiet as Katsuki places another dish in its respective place. His heart speeds up a little and his cheeks heat, but he isn’t exactly scared. He closes the cabinet and faces Shouto again, lips pressed shut. Shouto doesn’t move, the water is still hitting his wrist and the dish, they’re staring at each other, and a very long, quiet moment between them passes.
Shouto parts his lips, then shuts them, blinks a few times, and finishes washing the dish.
And when he hands it over to Katsuki, he smiles and says, “I’m in love with you, too.” He turns off the water and Katsuki notices he can breathe a little easier. Shouto frowns a little, “I kind of thought I’d be the one saying it first, though…”
Katsuki frowns at this, “The hell. Why?”
“I’m not sure. That’s kind of just how it happened in my head. But it’s alright, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Shouto takes Katsuki’s face in his hands and presses his forehead against his. Katsuki closes his eyes and his own hands encase Shouto’s on his cheeks and he squeezes them. His cheeks are cool with Shouto’s touch and he doesn’t burn anymore. He’s warm, but he doesn’t burn.
“We’re graduating,” Shouto says quietly, “We’ll be busy.”
“Yeah, I know.” Katsuki steps closer to Shouto, lays his head on his chest, and wraps his arms around his waist. He squeezes and squeezes and sighs into the fabric of Shouto’s shirt. He can hear the steady rhythm of Shouto’s heart. It isn’t fast, isn’t out of control, isn’t skipping beats. Katsuki huffs, amused, “It’ll be fine. Because you’re in love with me.”
Shouto smiles against the poke of Katsuki’s hair, “And you’re in love with me. So we’ll figure it out.” He presses his lips to Katsuki’s temple in a gentle kiss, “we aren’t late at all this…Are we?”
“No,” Katsuki says almost immediately. “It was supposed to happen just like this. We’re perfect.”
He doesn’t explain himself, his answer, his reasoning—and Shouto doesn’t ask him to. He just hums, “Okay. Then let’s go to bed.”
He pulls away from Katsuki, takes his hand, and it seems the majority are headed to bed as well.
“Ah- look at that,” Kirishima says from a good distance behind them.
Sero yawns with a hum, “Oh, shit. They did it, huh. Can’t believe it took them three years.”
Katsuki waited and Shouto caught on, caught up, and he’s cooling Katsuki with his touch. The amount of time it took didn’t matter—Katsuki doesn’t really care about the entire “three years” thing—Shouto and him were inevitable, regardless.
And it’s worth it. The three years and the waiting and the patience is worth Shouto cooling his burning skin. It’s worth Shouto’s touch and smile and love, love, love. It’s worth everything that comes with this ‘thing’ that they have.
Katsuki squeezes Shouto’s hand tighter, and the corners of his lips lift against his will and there’s really no stopping it. He glances up at Shouto and his chest swells when Shouto’s already looking down at him. He parts his lips and mouths, I love you.
And he smiles. Shouto is in love with Katsuki.