Chapter Text
Hanta knows he’s been staring for a long time, but he can’t pull his eyes away. If he looks hard enough and focuses his eyes just right, he can see the bluish cold tint of Shoto’s nails on his left hand. Perhaps a side effect from the use of his quirk. His hand works tirelessly, completing his school work with ease while his other taps along to the beat of the music playing lowly in the back.
He wonders, just for a moment, if he’d get chills if their hands were to interlace.
There’s a seamless transition from the porcelain pale skin on Shoto’s cheek to the nasty red scarring over his eye. The lid is heavier than the other, drooping down the slightest bit due to the scar. He seems to squint more often with that eye. A habit he developed since the injury, Hanta presumes.
“Staring is rude, you know,” Shoto says. It’s deadpan. His voice is stoic and flat. Hanta wants to hear him say his name because the baritone in his voice ignites his skin on fire.
He blinks, clearing his throat. “I wasn’t.”
He’s a liar. Shoto knows it too. He can tell by the way his gaze locks onto his for a moment, stealing his breath with the now clear view of his face. There are smaller blemishes around the scar as if whatever had scarred him splattered haphazardly across his face.
He wants to ask about it. He knows he shouldn’t.
There’s a sort of aloof mysteriousness to him that Hanta finds himself entranced by. Hanta had almost forgotten that the two weren’t alone. They were sitting in a group, studying at some diner Eijirou suggested due to the calming atmosphere. There were six of them. An odd bunch.
Shoto and Katsuki had offered to host a study group. So of course, Hanta had to come. Mina and Izuku as well. Hanta is only half sure Izuku tagged along because Katsuki was here. His marks were perfect so there was no need for the extra cramming other than the fact his boyfriend was tutoring. Perhaps that’s why Hanta was so adamant about coming as well despite his distaste for studying. To see Shoto.
Obviously, he wasn’t getting much studying done.
It was a small crush. A small distracting, heart palpitation-inducing crush. But small nonetheless. It wasn’t as if he planned to do anything about it.
It was too risky. Too nerve-wracking to even think about expressing his feelings. He didn't even…he didn't even know if Shoto liked boys. If he didn't, maybe Hanta could take the potential rejection better. But on the off chance that Shoto Todoroki was gay and still rejected him? Well, that would just crush him completely.
“Did you finish your work?” Shoto asks. “Is that why you’re looking at me?”
All eyes were on Hanta now and he could feel the back of his neck heat up. “Er— um, no. I just got distracted by something. I’m almost done though, no biggie.” He had a tendency to talk too much when he was nervous.
Stupid. He was so stupid. He wasn’t normally like this. Mouth agape, dumbly spitting out words and shamelessly staring. But Shoto was sitting right across from him. All he had to do was move his foot mere inches and they’d be touching. He can see the nicks in his skin from what looks like a poorly handled razor. Hanta imagines Shoto’s face as he struggles to shave in the mirror, half asleep and droopy-eyed.
He has it bad. He definitely has it bad.
Shoto blinks in confusion while Mina snickers into the back of her hand.
“Is there something on my face?” His bluish fingertips move to wipe his face before Hanta could say no, you’re just so nice to look at.
“Hey!” Katsuki interrupts. “Are we goin’ to study, or what? Stay focused or this whole thing is meaningless.”
That’s right. He has to stay focused. Focused on… What was it they were studying again?
Hanta blinks at his half-finished homework. His handwriting was small and neat. For a moment he almost wanted to risk looking over at Shoto’s paper only to see what his handwriting looks like. He imagined it was large, almost fancy, and refined.
He blinks at his paper again and inwardly scolds himself for fantasizing about something that dumb. He was a pining fool, that’s what he was. A pining fool who couldn’t even get his work done in the presence of the guy he liked.
Hanta decided he didn’t like having a crush anymore. He didn’t like how it flatlined his brain and made his cool personality jumbled up inside him and come out as nothing but sputtering words. He didn’t like how he had no self-control and uncontrollable wandering eyes.
It was all too risky. If he keeps this up, someone’s going to notice.
It was at this moment that Hanta decided he was going to pretend to be cool. If he pretended his hands didn’t tingle every time Shoto’s two-toned eyes locked onto his, then maybe Shoto would believe it too. Maybe, just maybe, he’d seem cool enough to catch his attention.
Hanta wasn’t a self-conscious person at all. Not normally, anyway. He knew what he was—that being average—and he had no problem with that. It wasn’t like he felt the need to be anything more than that.
But for Shoto? To be with Shoto? He’d have to be someone special. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could convince him that he really was that special person.
Hanta finished up his work quickly after that, wrangling his mind back into focus. He was actually able to retain some of the information today because Shoto’s cool voice was easy to listen to. He’d listen to it for hours if given the chance. If he was his teacher all the time then maybe studying wouldn’t be so bad.
“Well, I’m done!” Hanta says, slouching in his seat at the booth next to Mina. His arms fly up, his hands resting on the back of his head leisurely. His elbows have a tendency to take up a lot of room when rested on tables, so instead, he opts to keep them up and out of the way. “How many of you are finished? Just me, huh?”
Shoto looks up, “Is it done correctly?”
Hanta’s heart screams at the thought of Shoto checking over his work. Maybe he’d move seats, get up and close to make sure he was following along. They’d bump shoulders and Hanta would try his best to pay attention because Shoto was spending time on him specifically.
His fantasy is shattered the moment Katsuki snatches Hanta’s work from across the table and looks it over with a scowl. His hands wrinkle the sheet, holding it much more aggressively than necessary.
Hanta rolls his eyes. “Don’t blow the place up if my work is better than yours.”
Katsuki squints at Hanta’s paper bitterly and Izuku seems to hold back a laugh at that.
“It’s ‘ight,” Katsuki finally says, tossing the paper back to him. “You need to work on your handwriting, though.”
“That’s not true! You’re just picking at anything now ‘cause my work is perfect!” He had Shoto’s voice to thank for that.
“No, your handwriting is just shit,” Katsuki argues.
“Let me see,” Shoto says, taking Hanta’s paper right from his hands. Their fingertips brush for a moment–Shoto’s right hand is so warm–and Hanta’s brain almost shuts down. The warmth from that moment of touch seems to spread from the tips of his fingers all the way to his chest, squeezing around his heart.
“If you think this looks bad, let’s see yours, Bakugo,” Shoto says. “It looks perfectly fine to me.”
The paper is handed back to him and Hanta almost keels over at the fact Shoto just complimented him. It’s a basic complement, something anyone else wouldn’t even sweat over. But Hanta has it bad. He has it so bad that the back of his neck is heating up once again because Shoto said his handwriting was “Perfectly fine.”
There’s a squabble, of course. Katsuki yells and complains about Shoto questioning his penmanship and Shoto simply stares back blankly, not seeing what’s gotten Katsuki so heated.
“Maybe you should focus on your own handwriting before critiquing anyone else,” Shoto says and Hanta is half sure he’s doing it on purpose to provoke him.
Izuku, of course, does nothing to help stop the arguing and instead shyly smiles in a silent apology to the surrounding tables. His hand is interlaced with Katsuki’s on the diner table for everyone to see and Hanta’s insides burn with envy because that could be him and Shoto. It could be, but it won’t be.
Eijirou, being the peacemaker he always is, puts a stop to it when he sees one of the waitresses walking over, her face watching Katsuki in annoyance.
Needless to say, they left the diner after that.
𖥧 𖤣𖥧 𖤣𖥧
It’s autumn.
Fallen leaves crunch under Hanta’s shoes as the group walks back to the dorms. Mina and Eijirou take turns giving each other piggyback rides—Mina is carrying him as of right now—and Izuku and Katsuki are debating over which All Might hero costume was better.
But Hanta couldn’t care less about any of that because Shoto was walking next to him. The fall winds pull Shoto’s bangs back, exposing his forehead, and Hanta couldn’t help but notice how it’d be a perfect opportunity to plant a soft kiss right on the crease of his brow.
But there was a sort of frustration in his face every time his hair flew back, so Hanta decided not to tease him about the wind. Instead, he watched him from the corner of his eye, noticing how his nose wasn’t a pretty pink like the rest of the group. Rather, he seemed not to be phased by the chilly autumn weather.
“You’re looking at me again.”
Hanta snaps his eyes away, instead, looking at Mina who is currently doing lunges with Eijirou on her back. He looks more than nervous, perhaps a bit scared to be off the ground.
He looks away when she almost trips, eyes properly finding Shoto. “Hey man, you’re not cold? I mean, you’re not even wearing a scarf.”
Shoto raises a brow before his lips part in a silent ah of realization. “I don’t get cold,” He says. “Not like the normal person, anyway. My quirk allows me to regulate my body temperature so weather isn’t an obstacle for me.”
Hanta gives him a quizzical look. “But you shiver and or sweat when you overuse your quirk, though.” Hanta notices it because the way sweat licks down Shoto’s neck during training is almost as captivating as the bluish tint of his left hand. Like always, he looks for far too long.
Shoto shrugs, “Excessive use makes it hard to keep up, so there are instances where I don’t bother. I’m still human, I’m going to sweat if my clothes are on fire.”
“Oh,” Hanta says, sort of dumbly. “That makes sense. I wish I could do something like that with my quirk. I’m forced to wear oversized everything because of the hassle with my elbows fitting into sleeves.”
He flops around his oversized coat sleeves for emphasis. To be able to regulate his body temperature would save him the annoyance of his large sleeves falling down as he washes his hands. And maybe he could do something about the heat constantly rising to his neck as well.
“My quirk is kind of lame. I can't do much with it.”
“Yes,” Shoto says and Hanta almost stops dead. Yes? What was that supposed to mean?
“I mean, no,” Shoto corrects himself. “I mean, yes you can do cool things with your quirk too. Not regulate body temperature, of course, but your quirk is useful. You have amazing control over it. And I like it.”
There are a few heartbeats of silence before Hanta lets out a nervous chuckle. “Thanks, man.” He didn’t mean to come off as self-deprecating. He was just annoyed with wet sleeves.
“I was—I was disagreeing with you,” Shoto clears up, almost panicking. “It’s not lame. You did a very good job using it as a sort of capture weapon against me during the sports festival. You still lost, of course. But you were a great opponent. Your quirk doesn’t mess with mine, so if we worked together at some point in the future then we could—“
“It’s okay, I got that!” Hanta stops him short. He doesn’t think he could handle hearing a slew of compliments from him right now. “Don’t worry, man. I know what you meant.”
Shoto takes a breath. “Okay.”
That was the most words he’d ever heard him speak at once. Hanta felt a sort of warmth in his chest for a long time after that. There was silence for a long time too. It wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was nice, listening to the whistle of the wind and the birds, harmonizing a song only they know. The leaves crunched just a bit louder every now and again, but it was nice.
Autumn is nice.
“Hey, Roki,” Hanta says before he can think about it. They’re approaching the dorms now. The rest of the group had already gone inside, but it seemed that the two were walking slower than the rest, admiring the autumn scenery.
Shoto turns to him again with a hum, his eyes wide and curious.
“Do you wanna…” He trails off. Do you wanna, what? Go out? Talk to me outside a little bit longer? Hold my hand so I can finally know what your fingers feel like laced into mine?
“Do you like manga?” He settled on asking.
Shoto seemed surprised by the question. He blinked once, then twice before tilting his head to the side. His bangs fell over one of his eyes and Hanta wanted to push the hair back so he could see them both.
“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered.
“Do you wanna come up to my room and read the new manga I Bought last week?”
“Oh. yeah, sure,” Shoto says, and they continue walking into the dorms. Half of their classmates are on the couch, Izuku and Katsuki are still in the middle of their debate—the two are relentless—and Hanta smiles while talking off his shoes.
Shoto sets his shoes next to Hanta’s, lining them up nicely. It was so natural as if he didn’t think anything of it. That does something to him and the butterflies in his stomach squirm.
Their coats hang next to each other too, and for a moment, Hanta wonders if he’d get to see the same scene one day if they were to live together, share a space and come home to kisses and warm smiles.
Everyone is so caught up in their own bubble of things, Shoto and Hanta are able to easily slip up the stairs without interruption. It felt nice to have him all to himself for a moment. Hanta doesn’t know what was holding him back from asking to hang out before.
The stairs creak under their feet and Hanta’s palms are beginning to sweat. Shoto had never been in his room before. Not really. There was that one time when they first moved in, but he wasn’t truly in Hanta’s room. He was just looking at it. Besides, it wasn’t truly his yet. And Hanta is almost positive Shoto wasn’t really paying attention then.
But now he’s going to be in his room. For real, this time. His place where he sleeps and spends most of his time. Suddenly he was regretting his decision. Not asking Shoto to hang out, oh no. He could never regret that.
He was regretting not inviting him for lunch or suggesting something that didn’t involve sharing his personal safe space for the first time.
He wanted to impress him. That’s what this whole thing was about, anyway. He wanted Shoto to like him. If his room was lame then all of that would go out the window. What if his room smelled bad? Then surely Shoto wouldn’t think Hanta was cool.
He took a deep breath before opening his room door.
Then he slammed it shut again.
“Uh,” Shoto started, confused.
“Just—just wait here a sec,” he said, opening the door a crack and slipping inside. But not before his elbows got stuck in the small opening, and he had to make it a little wider to step inside, leaving Shoto standing alone.
His room was a mess. There were piles of clothes thrown to the side waiting to be folded and stray papers crumpled up on the floor.
He kicked a pair of boxers underneath his bed.
Hanta wasn’t a messy person. He valued health and efficiency. He liked to keep his space clean. But training had been hard this week and maybe he forgot to clean up along the way. Obviously, he forgot to clean up along the way.
As quick as he could, he hid away any incriminating messes and tossed the papers in the trash. He gave it a quick look over before finally taking a breath and letting Shoto inside.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Oh! Yeah, dude. I just…” Hanta struggles to think of an excuse. “Needed to put some stuff away.” He was always a terrible liar.
“Oh.”
“Not anything weird! I wouldn’t have that stuff like that! Like, I meant my clothes! It would just take up space and—and yeah. Um, anyway.” He scratches the back of his ear with his pinky, the back of his neck heating up once again.
Stupid. He was so stupid.
“Can I sit here?” Shoto asks, gesturing to his desk chair.
“Yeah, sit anywhere you want. The hammock might be more comfortable for reading, though.”
Shoto shakes his head and sits in the chair.
“Is it okay if I light some incense? I don’t know if you’re like, sensitive to that stuff or not.”
Shoto shakes his head once again. “No, it’s fine. What does it do?” He tilts his head to the side, just as he did before, but this time Hanta finds his bangs cute. Shoto huffs and pushes them back into their rightful place.
“Oh, it’s like a candle! It can help raise serotonin levels and calm you down. Some people use it for spiritual reasons but it’s good for aromatherapy too. You ever meditate before, Roki?”
Shoto shakes his head, watching as Hanta lights the incense stick.
“It’s really nice, you should try it sometime. Helps clear your head and shit. We could even do it together.”
Hanta pauses, realizing what he just said. Before he could take it back, however, Shoto nods, this time more enthusiastically.
“That sounds nice, actually,” he says. “I usually just nap when I want to stop thinking.”
Hanta smiles. “That’s good too.”
“So, where’s your manga?”
Right. That’s what he came up for. Not talks of aromatherapy and meditation.
Hanta pulls out a bin from his shelf. Inside, he keeps all his manga volumes stacked neatly on top of one another.
“Let’s see,” Hanta pulls them out of the bin, organizing them in their respective stacks. “Here are the new ones from last week. I got these a while ago, so I’ve already read them. I haven’t started these yet and—“
“You have all of Inuyashiki?”
Hanta blinks, sort of stunned that Shoto interrupted him. “Yeah,” He says, and hands the stack of manga to him. “You’ve read it?”
Shoto marvels for a moment, eyes wide at the collection. “I’ve never gotten to read past volume 4. I never found it anywhere.”
Hanta feels giddy. “You can borrow mine!”
For the first time today, Shoto smiles.
It’s soft and small, but Hanta catches it anyway. His left eye closes a bit from the fullness of his cheeks, matching the other eye's size. The right side of his mouth quirks up more than the other, a small dimple taking home on only one side of his face.
Hanta’s heart squeezes in his chest at the sight.
It was then that he realized: All Shoto had to do was ask and he’d give him the world only to see him smile like that again. Even if it was small, barely there, Hanta wanted to see it every day for the rest of his life.
“Thank you,” Shoto says. The baritone in his voice was gone, instead, it was soft and appreciative. “Really. I don’t have a lot of manga at home. It’s nice that you’re letting me read yours.”
“Of course, man. You can borrow them any time you like. Just be sure to bring it back,” he jests.
Shoto nods seriously. “I will.”
Hanta has it bad. He has it real bad.