Archive of Our Own

Lifting the bright red metal lid of the postbox without too much thought, Shouto slides the letter to his mom inside and turns around, ready to go back to the dorms, or tries to. 

He’s pretty much on autopilot: he just sends his weekly letters and then goes back to the dorms, leisurely enjoying his Sunday, that’s it… But today something strange happens. As he starts to pivot on his heels, he hears the characteristic squeak of the mailbox lid and then a soft thud hitting the floor right behind him. It could be someone else dropping by, sending their own letter, but the thing is that just a second ago there was no one else around, and it’s quite hard to believe someone has simply materialized out of thin air behind him and—

He turns around and just as he thought: there’s no one else here.

His eyes move down as he recalls the sound of something falling, and there it is, an envelope.

Blinking, he stares at it before crouching to pick it up and return it to the postbox. Maybe when he pushed his in, there was someone else’s letter hanging or something, and it has now fallen and—

Todoroki

His name stares back at him. For a second, he wonders if it’s his own letter that has fallen, but that can’t be, because he’s sure his letter has not only entered the mailbox correctly, but this Todoroki isn’t written by his own hand: he has written with neat calligraphy on his envelope, and this one is done with almost… anger. 

Fingertip grazing the kanji that compose his name, the image of a certain boy pops into his mind, and a tiny smile appears on his face as he can almost see him, brows scrunched as his tongue hangs out from his mouth in distaste, cursing him and his half-assed ass while writing and—

“Why would Bakugou write me a letter?”

And most importantly, even if he did (which he certainly believes he hasn’t), why would he use this precise mailbox to send it to him? 

Shouto is sure that if Bakugou wrote him a letter, he would surely stomp his way upstairs, and after aggressively knocking on his door, he would shove the envelope with a dismissive and curt grunt, trying to mock down his own efforts, trying to play it cool, as if he didn’t care, as if the letter meant nothing.

Smiling, Shouto keeps caressing the angry Todoroki in the envelope, as the whole scenery plays out in his mind.

Bakugou would be wearing his sweatpants and that tee of his, the giant black one with the fading white skull. Shouto knows Bakugou is worried about how the skull is fading away due to so many washes. He caught him once, caressing the painted edges in the laundry room, with a tiny frown. That reminds him to check whether he can find the same one or a similar model to gift him ‘anonymously’ to replace his frayed one. Shouto loves how well it fits Bakugou, and it would be a pity if he no longer wears his emblematic tee because, you know, laundry.

“Excuse me, could you please move aside? I need to send this letter, and you’re… You know.”

Bowing his head, he moves aside and apologizes quietly before he resumes his walking, the letter still in his hand. He’s almost two streets over the mailbox when he sits down in a small stone wall near a park and just stares at the white envelope.

It has his name… what are the odds?

“Maybe it’s for another Todoroki family?” 

Holding it up against the sunlight, he squeezes his eyes, almost as if this way he could see what’s inside. He does this for almost a whole minute before he realizes what’s missing in the envelope. What's wrong with this letter.

There is no address.

Quickly lowering the envelope, he turns it around in his hands, trying to see if perhaps whoever has written it has done it wrongly, on the backside or—

Nothing.

Blinking, he keeps staring at the wrapper as he turns it around, over and over, and over again, almost as if he was expecting magic ink to pop before his eyes, called by his eager search for an address or anything but nothing whimsical as such happens. 

Todoroki.

Shouto now wonders how many Todorokis might use that same mailbox he uses and on this fine day of the week. He bets not many, maybe only he… Surely only he. Or maybe that thought is pretentious and—

“The letter must be for me.”

Once more, the image of Bakugou appears in his mind but once more, it makes him frown a little because he’s sure that if it were Bakugou, he would personally give it to him and what’s more, Bakugou doesn’t look like the type who would write letters, he’s the kind of guy who screams into your face what he’s thinking with or without you wanting to hear it. Shouto does, by the way, he always wants to know what Bakugou might be thinking. That’s what friends do, and Shouto really wants to be a good friend for Bakugou… he even wants to be his best friend, his forever best friend. Yeah, that sounds good, that sounds nice.

Fingers drumming over the envelope, he hums as he keeps observing his name.

He’s still sure the kanji has been written angrily. The marks of the pen are too obvious, too deep in the paper, and there’s a point where it almost looks as if it had been torn apart or almost.

He has seen some of Bakugou’s notes. Whenever they hold study sessions with the rest of their friends, Bakugou always ends up writing like this, especially after he smacks Kaminari and Sero and barks at them what a pair of idiots both are; then Bakugou clenches his teeth and grips his pen with a maniacal death grip and writes down for the third or fourth time the most basic and core summary of the lesson for them to memorise and if after that, neither of the boys understands it, usually Kirishima intervenes as Bakugou’s pen either explodes or is thrown with lethal and precise aim.

Their study sessions are never boring, at least, and Bakugou surely is a good teacher… although Shouto has to recognize that whenever Ashido joins them, he doesn’t really do much studying as she loves to paint his nails and do little braids on his hair, and he has to recognize the feeling is too nice and soft to say no. He doesn’t mind either. Bakugou does, though. He always glares and huffs at them, yelling at them that next time neither he nor Ashido are welcome to join him, or what’s even better: 

“There ain’t gonna be next time. I’m tired of you losers. Don’t be at the bottom, idiots! Now die.”

“I’m not at the bottom. I’m right next to you, at the top of the class, and—”

“Then why the fuck are you even here, Halfie, huh? Why are you here? If you are so good, up and mighty, then why are you asking me for help?”

“I’m here because you are my friend. And I enjoy spending time with my friends. I like being with you, Bakugou, and you reviewing the lesson is only a plus and—”

“Gosh! Shut up! Fucking half and half bastard! DIE!”

He opens the envelope with a little smile still on his face. As he slides the single sheet of paper out, he decides that if he reads the letter and it’s not for him, he will try to find the Todoroki to whom it belongs and give it back with an apology for having read their private mail, and if it’s for him… Well, then he would just satiate his curiosity regarding who might have sent it and why someone would use the same mailbox he uses and—

Todoroki,

You BASTARD. 

I told you a hundred times to stop messing around with the toaster, and now look at this, the fucking piece of shit is DEAD. Caput. Out. 

STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY KITCHEN, YOU USELESS BASTARD.

The only reason why I’m not throwing the fucking toaster into your head, bashing your brains (that if you have any ) all over our bed is because then I’d be the one trapped doing laundry since you’re also a pathetic excuse when it comes to do that and let’s face it: blood is a motherfucking pain in the ass to clean off… we both know that since you know, work.

Anyway, you’re also sparred from me kicking your ass out of bed because I know yesterday was a hard day at work and I tried to wait for you to come back home but I guess you had your fair share of shit to do after that happened and I had my early morning shift, so I hit the bed and barely felt you get in, only your arms wrapping around like the koala you are.

I’m 

Are you ok 

It wasn’t your

Look. We’re heroes, and that means we have to save people, but sometimes we can’t save everyone, or in the way everyone wants us to. I know you know that, but I’m just saying it.

You did a fucking good job yesterday.

Fuck everyone who says otherwise.

And fuck that reporter. I always cause a lot of damage, and I’m still the best, so what if you did some ice and some dumbass slipped and fell? If you hadn’t, maybe someone would have died. You use your ice to move, and you always leave a big chunk of iceless, so fuck them idiots who CAN’T fucking see the giant ice path and still choose to move over it. It ain’t your fault if they fall and crack their heads open. Fuck them.  Well deserved.

I

I’m making soba tonight. So you'd better be back home early. And bring a fucking TOASTER. We are currently toaster-less. Thanks to you, asshole.

But I guess it’s better you fried the bread over the toaster than that time I caught you trying to make toast with your hand. Actually, no, I just remembered your face when you tried to bite that bunch of burned dust, it's too fucking good, wish I had taken a pic. Fucking useless thing that you’re…

Anyway, I’m gonna be late, and it’d be your fault. Like always. Goddamn it, even when you’re sleeping, you’re still a menace to my punctuality: you either hold me back by being a clingy asshole or you make me write you fucking love notes. Ugh. Disgusting.

You’re rousing. I can hear you mumbling my name… and you just fucking apologized about the toaster, but you’re still asleep. Good to know you know your place, bastard. 

YOU OWE ME.

I hate you. You just kissed me for like ten minutes before I kicked you inside the bathroom. Now I’m fucking late.

You don’t deserve this note.

BUY ME A FUCKING TOASTER, SHOUTO.

I’m not joking.

STOP LAUGHING!

No. I don’t love you,

I HATE YOU.

He reads the letter, sorry, ‘the note’ four times in a row before he lowers it and stares ahead, at the end of the street, before he blinks three times and quickly re-reads it again.

He’s confused. 

He’s on one hand sure the letter is indeed for him, but on the other, how can it be for him?

It does say Shouto and Todoroki, so that’s him, Todoroki Shouto. (Or is there another Todoroki Shouto? Maybe he should check that out. After all, neither his name nor surname is that unusual. The odds of both are low, but still there…)

It also mentions someone who works as a hero, and here he is, a third-year student of the hero course. This person also seems not to be a good cook or a laundry person… which neither is he. And last but not least important: the soba mention. The sender/writer of the letter seems to consider it important that he’s doing soba tonight. Such line is made with the clear intention of ‘lifting his spirits’, and he loves soba. If he was feeling down, as the letter seems to point out, he would for sure appreciate it if someone did soba for him.

So… is the letter for him? He would like to say that it is, yes.

But who is the sender?

The image of Bakugou returns to his mind tenfold. It is true that as he read it, Bakugou’s voice read it along with his, and the way it’s written could easily be replaced by Bakugou hissing and sneering the words with fake contempt while deep care lies hidden under it. It’s obvious the whole toaster thing was just an excuse, or maybe the trigger for the letter. 

This person was worried about Shouto and wanted to check on him, afraid he was going to wake up all alone after whatever happened the previous day. 

He smiles as he imagines waking up, feeling bad and then seeing the envelope, waiting for him right there, the perfect mood lifter if whoever has written the letter is not there…

BUT.

Kissing. 

Bed sharing.

Rereading the letter only confirms his suspicions: he hasn’t misread it. The person seems to point out that he and Shouto do share not only an apartment, a home, but also a bed. 

And they kissed.

For ten minutes.

Yes. He checks it again. Ten minutes… that’s quite a lot, right?

His lips tingle and, face heating up, he grazes with his fingertips his lips, smiling a little bit as he can almost feel the ghostly touch of some lips over his. He wonders if the kiss would be sweet. Surely not, ten minutes sounds like something a little bit passionate, but then again, he has just woken up… that does sound like something sweet and soft.

He bursts into flames, literally, because he can’t believe he has just imagined himself doing that, especially with Bakugou because Bakugou is his friend, the same friend who he’s still imagining writing that letter… However, it can’t be, because he and Bakugou are not heroes (not yet at least) and he’s more than sure that they don’t share an apartment or… or a bed. And they definitely don’t kis—

The flames erupt fiercely, coming into life with such strength he has to throw the letter away from him to avoid it getting burned. 

Taking a deep breath, he calms himself down and hastily picks the letter up before the wind can blow it away.

It makes no sense. 

“Is this a joke?” 

It has to be. For sure it is. Glancing around, he tries to see if there is someone nearby, if it’s maybe Kaminari or Sero pulling a prank on him, trying to get him back for accidentally ruining their chances while they were hitting on some freshman girls last Wednesday. He has already apologised a couple of times, but Kaminari especially seems not to be over it, complaining and sobbing that he was really close to getting their Line contacts… 

He calls their names softly. Nothing. No bush moves suspiciously, nor does he detect someone spying on him. He glances up, trying to see if maybe they’re up in the sky, floating or using a drone or something. 

He doesn’t see anything. 

He reads the letter again. And again, and again and again. Over and over again, until he can recite the words along with Bakugou’s voice inside his brain.

Bakugou. He can’t read the letter without hearing his voice, both are now perpetually tangled inside his head, but this makes no sense. He’s pretty sure Bakugou would never write a letter like this, or pull a prank of this kind. 

He’s rushing back to the dorms before he can even comprehend it, letter safely tucked in his pocket. As he bursts through the doors, he sees some of his classmates look at him with a tiny frown, as it’s not a thing he usually does, he’s Todoroki Shouto after all, the calm and composed boy from 3-A. He’s not one of his ‘rascal’ friends that kicks or stumbles upon doors.

“If you’re looking for them, I think Kirishima and Bakugou are sparring in the gym,” Tokoyami quietly pipes from close by.

Shouto nods and thanks him before he pivots on his heels and rushes back outside, heading straight toward the gym. He doesn’t even need to get inside to hear his friends, screaming and laughing, egging both boys who are supposedly fighting. The lack of explosions, though, makes him curious. 

As he steps through the gym’s doors, he’s greeted by Sero’s giant grin, and approaching him, he’s quickly briefed that Kaminari made a joke that rubbed Bakugou off in the wrong way, and Kirishima stepped up, coming up with this no-quirks training.

“But why?” he asks, perplexed.

“Endurance,” Sero replies with a shrug. “Kiri wants to check how long he can go at Baku without using his hardening and Baku… well, when does he say no to a good ol’ fight?”

Shouto hums at that. One of his favourite things about Bakugou is his lack of holding back. He never does, but he’s always extremely careful not to harm his opponent. He can make you bleed and leave you bruised all over, but Shouto has never truly needed to hit the infirmary after one of their spars. Bakugou is definitely something.

As both observe in silence the fight going on, Ashido and Kaminari make comments, imitating Professor Mic and doing weird moves that Shouto has been told are ‘hip-hop’ moves. Once Ashido tried to teach him, saying he should know how to do breakdance and whatnot, but in the end, after a couple of ‘lessons’, she hugged him tightly and cried theatrically, saying something about ‘cute kittens and charming princes are not made for the street moves’… Whatever that might mean.

Getting comfortable on the floor, he remembers the reason why he was in such a hurry to return here as the envelope crunches a little bit inside his pocket.

“Sero?”

“Huh?”

“Are you and Kaminari pranking me?”

Sero’s face snaps towards him with a deep frown. “What? Why would you say that, Roki? You wound me, dude. If I was pranking you, you’d know. Trust me.”

He has to agree with that. Sero knows how hard it is for him to detect when someone is being sincere and when they’re being sarcastic or joking, so he always tells him when he’s being literal and when he’s using rhetorical figures. Sero also winks at him and does ‘finger guns’ when he’s pulling a prank on him, so Shouto can choose if he wants to tap out or keep going on.

Feeling bad as he has simply jumped the gun, thinking poorly of his friend, he apologises.

“No, no, don’t worry, Roki… but may I ask what’s wrong, buddy? Did Kami do something?”

“I don’t know.”

Biting his lip, he glances at Bakugou, and something inside of him stops him from simply pulling the letter out of his pocket and showing it to Sero. If Bakugou has truly written that, Shouto knows he would never forgive Shouto if he goes around showing it off… but then again, why would Bakugou write a letter talking about stuff that hasn’t even happened?

“I… I’ve received a strange… note. The content doesn’t make sense.”

Sero’s brows scrunch in confusion. “A strange note?” he repeats slowly. “What did it say? Was it like dark stuff?”

“No, no.” Shaking his head, he considers how he can summarise what it’s written without giving away too many details. “It… Mmh. It made references to things that haven’t happened.”

Sero looks even more lost. “Things that haven’t happened?”

“Yes. It mentioned me breaking a toaster. I haven’t broken one.”

Sero snorts at that and shakes his head. “Yes, yes, you have. You broke one last year, remember? You and Kami tried to make s’mores like the guys in the movie we were watching did, and Kami overused his electricity, and then you froze it when flames appeared. It was a chunk of useless plastic after that,” he finishes with a snort.

Oh. It’s true. But— “But it also said we’re pro-heroes. Not students, but heroes-heroes.”

Blinking really slowly, Sero rolls his eyes. “Ooookay, now I see why you asked me about the prank. So it looks like someone is trying to make you believe a letter from the future has reached you.”

A letter from the future. 

Shouto’s eyes widen before they immediately move towards Bakugou, who is in that moment blocking an attack from Kirishima before he fiercely grins and sweeps the larger boy off his feet with a snarled, “Take that shitty-hair!”

“Oi, Kami!” Sero yells. “Have you been watching Back to the Future again? Or another sci-fi movie lately?”

As Sero leaves him, crawling towards Kaminari, Shouto stays rooted in his spot, observing the fight as his brain goes at full speed, trying to imagine a future where he and Bakugou seem to still be close together, living together even and—

He bursts into flames, making everybody freeze whatever they were doing to stare at him.

“Roki?!”

“Todoroki?”

“Halfie.”

It's that last calmed one that makes his flames burst even wilder.

Kissed me for like ten minutes.

Kissed. Ten minutes.

Kissed.

Kissed.

Kissed.

Kiss—

Water cools him down, and as he blinks and stares at the person who is standing before him, he sees Bakugou with a deep frown, observing him as he still holds over Shouto’s head his now empty water bottle.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you bastard?”

His fire comes alive again, and Bakugou jumps away, quickly grabbing Kirishima’s water bottle and emptying it all over Shouto while he barks curses at him.

“SNAP OUT OF IT, ASSHOLE! This is a regular training room, you jerk. We can’t play with fire in here. If you wanna go at me with your quirk, fucking say so and we’ll move to the fire-proof room, you fucking dimwit!”

Standing up on wobbly legs, he quickly marches away, feeling a turmoil of confused feelings fluttering inside of him as he softly recalls the letter and then Bakugou’s annoyed expression as he poured the water over him and—

He freezes in the middle of the hall and quickly pulls out the letter from his pocket. It's drenched. He tries to warm it with his fire to dry it, but the second he feels the paper dry, he realises belatedly he has glued it together, and now he can’t open it without tearing it away.

The letter is useless.

Just like how he feels.

The incident with the letter lingers in his mind for the rest of the week. He gets called out because of that, with his friends calling him at first more spacey than usual and at last, with worried and concerned whispers, asking if something is bothering him and bright reassurances that whatever it might be, he can count on them.

Bakugou, though, seems concerned since day one, narrowed eyes following his very move as he aggressively tries to make him blurt what is worrying him. Shouto knows he means well, knows Bakugou is offering him his unconditional support and help him work through it… But the last thing he needs is to be near him, as he feels extremely warm and confused whenever he gets close to the explosive boy. 

“Sero?” He opens the door of his friend’s bedroom, knowing Sero has been drilling into his head that he can come in whenever he wants, and for once, Shouto does. He enters without politely waiting outside for the other to open the door because he’s too worked up over these weird feelings he’s been feeling lately. His head hurts, and his stomach also feels funny.

“Roki? Hey, what’s wrong dude?”

“I’m not feeling well.”

Sero was reading a manga, perched over his hammock, but the second Shouto finishes talking, he springs from it and, using his tape, he ushers Shouto towards his bed, making him sit on it.

Crouched in front of him, Sero examines his face while he nods.

“You do look paler than usual. And sweaty. I’m gonna go call Aizawa Sensei so the doc can check you up and—”

“No. Wait.” Grabbing him from his arm, Shouto hesitates as he knows it’s not something physical that’s wrong with him, he knows that much. “I. It’s not like that. I do feel strange, but I don’t think it’s some sickness.”

“Oh… okay?” Slowly standing up, his friend cautiously sits next to him, making the bed dip softly as his black eyes keep observing Shouto’s face. “Alright, so how do you feel?”

Nodding, he parts his lips, but no words come past them. He snaps his mouth close as he mulls over what he wants to convey, how to express through words how he’s feeling, but he’s also confused about that as well. So he says so.

“I’m not sure. It’s just… I feel strange. I feel too warm, but it’s not my quirk nor fever. I’ve checked.”

“You have checked?”

“Yes. I got a thermometer, and I’ve been checking my temperature: it’s within the acceptable parameters, and you’ve seen me in today’s training. My quirk is okay.”

Sero hums and glances at the ceiling, indeed finger-tapping his chin as he seems to consider Shouto’s words.

“So you feel hot… But we’re in October and even you, being you, you’ve never truly shown that this weather bothers you… Actually, you’re never bothered by the weather since you can regulate yourself.”

“It’s not my quirk, Sero,” he insists.

Sero raises both hands and grins. “Relax, relax. You know I’m kinda dumb. I’m just saying aloud the facts. Sometimes it helps.”

Shouto frowns at that. “You’re not dumb, Sero.”

“But I’m not smart like you or Baku.”

Shouto’s heart does a weird thing at the mention of Bakugou. His mind starts to echo with the fading words of the letter, and that makes him happy and sad. Happy because he cherishes the meaning behind the letter, even if today he’s still wondering if it was a prank or something; sad because some parts of it his brain no longer retains word-by-word what it said.

“Was it Kaminari?” he asks out of the blue.

Sero blinks, perplexed, looking lost at the sudden veering of the topic. “Huh? Roki, I, I’m lost? Like we were talking about you being hot and—”

“The letter,” he says.

Sero still looks lost, and his eyes quickly move around, almost as if he was mentally rewinding his brain, trying to find the exact point he and Shouto might have talked about a letter. Shouto waits patiently as he can’t really find it in himself to bring up their conversation from almost a week ago, and in the end, Sero snaps his fingers and exclaims, “The letter!”

“Yes.”

“Last Sunday dude, oh yeah, I totally forgot. Say, has Kaminari left you another weird letter?”

So then it was Kaminari. 

Shouto feels… disappointed.

Shoulders sagging, he shakes his head. “No, no, he hasn’t. Did he tell you why he did it?”

Sero shakes his head. “No, actually, Roki, I never asked him, you know? I was trying to, but then you burst into flames and well… what was that by the way? I never got around to ask you, and you know, shit I really didn’t want to actually ask you but oh well, what’s up with you dude? You’ve been weirder than usual, you know? I dig you being a lil weirdo, I think it’s cool, and it’s a you thing but not this kind of weird. Is it like you being hot? Fuck that just sounded so bizarre,” he mumbles, trailing off.

“Yes.”

It’s not a lie… but it’s not a complete truth. It’s a little bit more than that, but he’s still not sure how he can explain, so he simply agrees with Sero’s words.

His friend nods and clicks his tongue.

“I still think you should check it out with the doc, especially if it keeps your head up in the clouds like this week, dude, but you do you, I guess. Hey Roki, wanna chill with me? I’ve a new manga I think you might like, and if you start to feel hot again, then maybe I can help you discover why.”

Shouto kind of knows what makes him get hot: whenever he thinks about Bakugou and the letter, he only lacks knowing why, but staying with Sero sounds lovely and fun, so he agrees quietly and laying down on Sero’s bed while his friend does the same on the hammock, both boys start to read manga.

“Don’t set my bed on fire, alright Roki?” Sero jokes.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

And that’s it, Shouto spends the rest of his Saturday evening with Sero, mind empty save for the manga panels and the amazing story Sero has so kindly shared with him. They end up discussing the manga during dinner, making their friends roll their eyes and call them out for being a pair of nerds, but Shouto can see that Bakugou is also intrigued by the storyline, no matter how much he tries to cover it.

“Would you like to read it?” He asks him at one point, when he notices Bakugou eating in silence, too focused on what Sero and he are discussing.

“HAH?! Fuck no! I ain’t a nerd like you two.”

“But you are, Kaminari says you are a nerd, and Midoriya has also agreed with that statement. Both pointed out that your vast knowledge of video games and All Might are clear signs of—”

Bakugou punches him in the shoulder while Kaminari kicks him under the table as he makes a cutting move over his neck, shaking his head before he starts to laugh nervously.

“Kacchan! I swear Rokitoki here isn’t telling the truth. I’d never badmouth you with Midoriya. You’re not a nerd. I mean, it’s not as if you have all kinds of merch in your room or—”

An explosion cuts him off before he yelps and hides behind Kirishima, while Bakugou stands up and menacingly walks around the table, getting close to them. Shouto observes the scene, slurping his soba while Sero laughs, watching it all unfold as well.

As Bakugou grabs Kaminari from his shirt, he roars, “DEKU!”

A tiny yelp coming from the other side of the room makes everybody glance at the green-haired boy who is gulping and sweating already.

“Ka-Kacchan! Wha-what’s wrong?”

“You and this shit-head are saying around I’m a nerd?!”

“… well. Technically speaking, you are.”

It’s pandemonium after that. Half of their class laughs and starts to agree with Midoriya’s statement while the other half sighs and keeps eating, ignoring the explosions and yelped pleas for mercy from both Kaminari and Midoriya, who keep hinting that Bakugou is indeed a nerd just like them.

“Why is it such a bad thing?” Shouto whispers.

Sero laughs, banging his hand over the table as he cries. “Y-you always provoke this kind of mayhem, and then you just sit in there, wondering why. I love you so much, dude.”

Shouto blushes as he recalls the letter, the ending sentence. 

If the author truly was Bakugou, that hate would mean love, and that makes him feel warm and—

A glass of water is once more thrown over him, and smoke slowly rises to the ceiling with a low hiss. Blinking, he realises everybody is looking at him. This time it's Ashido who seems to have poured the water over him, and she quickly apologises.

“I’m so sorry, Shouto-kun. It’s just… I know Kacchan did it last week and well, you were just on fire and your sweater… Oh dear, I think we might need to go shopping tomorrow.”

“Mina dude,” Sero snaps. “I think we should first hit the nurse, don’t you think? Like, he just erupted in flames again. Roki buddy, are you feeling hot again?”

“Yes. No. Kind of,” he mumbles, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by everything and because he can feel so many pairs of eyes on him. It’s just too much, and his brain feels even more scrambled.

Before he can do anything else, burnt sugar hits his nose, and then warm arms surround him, pulling him up.

“Let’s go.” 

Then he’s being carried out of the room. Just like that.

“Bakugou?”

“No, the motherfucking tooth fairy.”

Shouto realises Bakugou is carrying him across the campus, towards the main building where the nurse's office is. He feels hot again but manages to control his quirk this time, even if his heart won’t cooperate.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, and weirded out by that, he glances up and sees with shock how concerned Bakugou looks to be.

“Ba-Bakugou?”

“SHUT UP!” Worry pours through his voice, hitting Shouto harshly.

The rest of the trip goes by in a quick haste through the dark halls until Bakugou kicks the nurse’s door wide open and barks at Recovery Girl about the situation.

“His quirk is fucked up. He keeps setting himself on fire from time to time, for no apparent reason. I haven’t noticed any outside factors, so it might be in his head. He seems spacey, more than ever, and his eyes seem to be looking far away. Bring the psych or something.”

Recovery Girl nods and thanks him before she asks Shouto to sit in a gurney and ushers Bakugou away. Casting him one last glance before his friend leaves the infirmary, he answers with honesty all the questions the doctor asks him. 

She does take his temperature, but the more Shouto tries to explain what has happened, the more amused the elderly woman looks.

“Ah, I see. Well, Todoroki, my boy, I’m afraid I can’t really help you with that.”

“You can’t? Is it that severe?” He asks her worriedly. Recovery Girl is known for being one of the best in the field, but if she says she can’t help him, then maybe it’s something lethal and unstoppable or maybe—

Recovery Girl shakes her head. “No, no, it’s something most boys and girls of your age go through. It’s called being in love, Todoroki. I think, and I’m sorry for being nosy, but I believe your feelings for your friend Bakugou are not platonic.”

“What does that mean?”

Smiling further, Recovery Girl sits on her chair. “It means you no longer want Bakugou as just a friend. You love him.”

“I do.”

“No, not like that, not anymore. Your love is now deeper, Todoroki. You’ve a crush on him, you want to date him.”

Date him.

Kissed me for like ten minutes.

He bursts into flames again, and Recovery Girl observes him, impassive, waiting until he calms down. It takes him a little, but he manages to extinguish his fire.

“Just as I imagined. Knowing you and… your story, I assumed that much. This is your first time dealing with this, and like a kid, you’re still getting used to this. You said your feelings overwhelm you, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“There you have it. You need to be in full control of your feelings to not set yourself on fire so easily.”

He nods and winces as he can’t believe he’s simply losing control of his quirk with something like… this. He almost sets himself on fire again as his mind diverges towards the boy that might or might not be outside, waiting for him in the hall, and dread pools in his stomach as he wonders if Bakugou has heard them talking. He knows Bakugou has the bad habit of listening to conversations (especially Shouto’s), and he has never minded that much, since he has never really cared about the matter, but what if this time he has listened to him and the doctor talking? This is not something he feels Bakugou should know, not yet at least, not until he gets a full grasp of what’s going on.

“How does one get rid of a crush?” he asks.

Recovery Girl blinks and then her smile fades away. “There’s nothing wrong with being in love, Todoroki. It’s only normal, a natural way of growing up and maturing. I mean, there’s also aro and ace people, and that’s also normal and fine, but in your case—”

“I— He’s my friend.”

“Yes.”

“What if…” Frowning, Shouto swallows as he recalls all those times Bakugou has fake-gagged at the mention of dating or love. “He seems against it.”

This is also why he was so confused about the letter. It did sound like Bakugou, but the gesture was something Shouto couldn’t wrap his head around. It wasn’t something Bakugou would do, joke or no joke. Even if the letter per se wasn’t sweet… he couldn’t imagine him and Bakugou doing that, being that.

“Say, Todoroki, was Bakugou the first one who reacted?”

“What do you mean?”

“He carried you here, didn’t he? And from what I’ve gathered, he seemed to have been observing you for quite a while. He gave me a complete report of your status. I'd ay, he cares about you.”

“He’s my friend.”

Recovery Girl sighs. “Teens. No matter the decade, century, or their position in class, it’s always the same drama,” she mumbles. “Todoroki, there’s nothing wrong with you, physically or mentally. My recommendation would be to practice and get used to these feelings of yours and to ask a close friend about them. Someone who knows you and Bakugou well enough to assist you and give you advice… Although I’m quite sure it’ll all be alright. Now, I’m sure your friend is still waiting, and don’t worry, the room is soundproof.”

He breathes again at the mention of that and, thanking her, he dresses himself again, buttoning his shirt properly and heading outside, where Bakugou is indeed waiting for him. He’s sitting in a chair with his arms folded over his chest, one of his feet tapping the floor impatiently while he glares ahead with a deep frown on his face.

“Bakugou,” he whispers.

The boy in question glances at him with a little of shock before he scowls and sneers, “What the fuck are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you fucker be resting or some shit?”

Shaking his head, he approaches him. “No. Recovery Girl said I’m okay.”

“Tsk. Knew it.” Bakugou’s eyes seem to scan him, and after a profuse observation, he nods curtly and stands up. “Let’s go. I should have been sleeping for the last ten minutes.”

“Oh, so then it’s 8:40?”

Bakugou elbows him and huffs. “Do I look like a fucking clock?”

“No. But you do go to sleep at 8:30.”

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou tries to smack him again. Shouto dodges it easily and keeps walking next to him, smiling softly as he realises Bakugou is walking slower than usual, clearly not forcing Shouto. He feels warm again, and as he notices that, his heart skips a beat as he wonders if this is also part of being in love with someone.

“Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Are you in love with someone?”

The explosion he receives on his face and the angry screams and kicks don’t give him the answer he wanted to, but as he lies in his futon, googling with his phone what being in love exactly entails, he concludes that he is indeed in love with Bakugou. Just as Recovery Girl said.

He stands before the red mailbox again, clenching the letter to his mom tightly as a cold sweat runs down his spine. The postbox looks like always: same shape, size, and color, and if you ask him, the same rust spots. It looks normal and since it’s been a week and the letter is just a crusty dried square hidden in his desk drawer, impossible to ever be read again; Shouto is starting to wonder if maybe he didn’t dream it all, if maybe it was just a blank piece of paper all along and his subconscious has just tried to get him on with the idea that he’s in love with Bakugou and—

“I lack the imagination to pull such a thing.”

And that statement is true. He almost failed his literature assignment of creating a short story as he lacks imagination. He struggled for hours to create a short tale, and even as he finished it, he knew it was bad. Bakugou always mocks him for his hero name, saying that he chose his name because he’s lame like that.

He feels warm again at the mere thought of the other boy. Taking a deep breath, he manages to calm himself down.

He’s running on fumes: he hasn’t really slept at all, since he’s been trying to control his emotions regarding Bakugou. After determining he is in love with his friend, Shouto googled what to do with these feelings of his, and well… the net seems divided between this being a curse or a blessing.

Having feelings for your best friend surely looks hard. 

It’s a blessing because if your feelings are reciprocated, it seems the relationship is easier, as both know each other and it seems the ‘pining’ eases dating ideas and, well, it’s a mutual dream come true.

It’s a curse because if it’s not reciprocated, the friendship might be lost as your friend might be uncomfortable, and eventually these feelings might push you apart.

Shouto doesn’t want to lose Bakugou, and he’s sure his feelings aren’t reciprocated… so he has tried option C, which was his first impulse: suppress these feelings. Now he’s trying to keep himself under control so he doesn't become a human torch whenever he thinks about Bakugou because he knows his best friend is too perceptive, and if he behaves a little bit off, Bakugou is just going to know. Shouto knows he’s just going to. 

But alas, here he is, because why wouldn’t he send a letter to his mom? It’s not his mom’s fault that he’s going through this, and since he can’t visit her as her new home is too far away for him to travel back and forth every week, he sends letters. Both like it, Rei has told him a thousand times she loves his letters and how nostalgic and magical it makes her feel. So there he is, with his mom’s letter in hand while he stares like an idiot at the mailbox.

“Why am I hesitating so much?”

He should just do it. What’s the worst that can happen? Another letter coming out for him? So what? If it’s a prank, it’s a tasteless one, true; but if it’s not a prank… well, he will need to figure out that one later on, but a letter is pretty harmless if you ask him.

He’s still considering all the pros and cons before Bakugou’s voice makes him snap out of it.

“Will you stop being such a half-assed IcyHot?”

He pushes the letter down the metallic lid and holds his breath…

And…

And nothing happens.

Blinking, he stares at the postbox, feeling disappointed even if it’s just what he imagined: the mailbox is just that, a mailbox, and the letter he received last week was surely a prank Kaminari tried to pull on him.

Turning around, he starts to walk away when he hears the same metallic squeak of the lid being moved and then the soft thud of an envelope hitting the paved street. Frozen on his spot, Shouto clenches and unclenches his fists before he moves slowly, and there it is: another white envelope with just his surname written over it, or at least, that’s as far as he can see.

Approaching it slowly, eyes quickly glancing around, trying to see if maybe his friends are around, if maybe Kaminari is silently laughing from the sidelines, biting his fist as he observes him being all puzzled by his prank, Shouto picks up the envelope and finally observes it, turning it around over and over as he can only see his name, Todoroki, written over it.

No address.

No sender information.

No stamp.

Just the blank envelope with 轟

He caresses the kanji and blinks as this time it doesn’t seem to have been written in an angry haste. He opens it and blinks as he sees it’s once more one sheet of paper, but this one has cat paws printed on the margins, and he smiles as he can see himself using this stationery material and silently wonders if maybe Kaminari will tell him where he has got it because he’d like to send a letter to his mom using this same paper and—

Shouto,

You’re sleeping while I write this. Nothing new there, huh? You’re always sleeping, fucker. But. This time is special because today marks ten years since you and I started dating, and I think it’s time to move on.

Shouto’s heart clenches at that, and a tiny no escapes his lips, but as he keeps reading, the watery feeling in his eyes changes drastically from sad to a blissful one.

Don’t fucking cry, dumbass. I’m not breaking up with you. I love you too much for that, and I’ve invested in this relationship way too much to just throw it away like that. No, you stupid candy cane princess, I meant that it’s time we take the next step.

Shouto, I’ve already told you this a million times, but when I see myself all cranky and wrinkled, I see myself next to you, so you better say yes because otherwise you’re dead.

Shouto, I’m asking you to marry me, you stupid noddle-brain. I bet you’re now with a stupid looking face, all stunned and crying as you look around for me. Tsk, I ain’t there, silly. That's why I’m leaving you this letter. I want to marry you… but it ain’t gonna be easy. If you want to marry me, first you have to find me. Yeah, this is a game of hide and seek, so there you go:

FIND ME

Ready to play? Find me, and I’ll give you your ring. 

Find me, and I’ll kiss you and ask you in person. 

Go on, you already know where I am.

You’ve one hour, 

Your future husband,

P.S. The hour officially begins at 11:30, since I know you won’t wake up before that.

He is crying, and he’s definitely shocked, just as the letter says. Once more, he can't help but read the letter with Bakugou’s voice, even if the letter isn’t signed again… but it just sounds like something Bakugou would do or would write.

He reads it again, even if the second time is harder as he already knows how it’s going to end, but now he can focus on all the little details such as the line that says they have been dating for ten years.

That shatters him. 

Sitting in the middle of the street, he stares a hole in the pavement as his recent discovery of his feelings for Bakugou and all the research he has done about it comes crashing into him. 

If this is a joke, it’s truly a tasteless one.

He reads the letter again and again, until he has memorised it all, and walking across the streets without a care in the world about his destination or anything else, he thinks thoughtfully about everything.

If the letters are a joke, only Bakugou could have written them, because Shouto knows no one else could write in such a Bakugou-like style except the same Bakugou… but then again, he simply can’t see Bakugou pulling this kind of prank on him.

His head hurts.

He’s still a confused mess by the time he reaches U.A.’s grounds, and as he makes a lame excuse and holes himself up in his room, reading over and over again the letter, he doesn’t get anything clearer either. The rest of the week goes by in the same manner. Aizawa calls him after class and asks if something is troubling him. He mumbles that he’s fine, and his sensei clearly doesn’t believe him, but with a dry, “seek me whenever you’re ready to talk about it,” he leaves him be.

His friends are harder to dismiss, especially Sero and Bakugou; Sero because he knows something is up and Shouto has almost told him, but tapped out, too ashamed in the last second and Bakugou… because well, he’s Bakugou, he’s perceptive so of course he knows something is ‘fishy’ with him (his own words) and also because he’s the main reason why Shouto is such a mess so of course Shouto is behaving a little bit odd with him.

When the next Sunday comes around, he seeks another mailbox but finds none, and in the end, he decides to go to his usual one, but before he shoves his letter inside, he opens the lid and, using the light from his phone, he double-checks that there’s no envelope addressed to him in the lid or anywhere sticking out of the postbox.

There’s none, and he feels a little bit disappointed and a little bit alleviated, along with other feelings that he would rather not focus on for too much. 

Dropping his own letter inside the mailbox, he takes a couple of steps back, eyes fixed on the red box and as he checks that nothing out of the ordinary has happened, he nods and resumes his way back to the campus, and this time he walks normally, not backwards, eyes fixed on the mailbox as he really, really wants to do.. but as he turns around, he hears the unequivocally sound of the lid opening and then the soft thud of an envelope hitting the floor.

His blood freezes because now he knows for sure this has to be an elaborate scheme to mess with him, but the key question is why and how.

Staring at the envelope that once more seems devoid of anything except his name, he glances around, trying to see who might be behind this.

He picks it up and hurries back to his room, deciding not to give the satisfaction to whoever it might be, to see him reacting out in the street to whatever the letter might say. He mumbles hellos to his classmates and quickly apologises to Ashido as she tries to drag him towards their friend’s group that is hosting a video game tournament on the couch, with Kirishima laughing loudly as he teases Sero, who seems to be losing against him.

Shouto stops in front of the elevator as he considers for a second joining his friends and having fun. Screw the damn letter! But his curiosity weighs too much, and in the end, he simply goes to his room, and after locking the door and drawing the curtains close, he carefully opens the envelope and gasps as this letter seems lengthier than any of the previous ones.

Shouto, I’m sorry.

There, now that that’s out of the way, let me explain why I behaved like I did yesterday, and please, I can only hope you read this whole thing because fuck, you won’t pick up the phone and Sero has already tapped my ass twice when I tried to get to you since I know you’re in his apartment.

I was drunk, and I know that’s not an excuse, but I swear I DIDN’T KISS THAT CHICK. She kissed me, and because I was drunk, I didn’t push her away fast enough. 

And I also didn’t realise it wasn’t you. 

She tasted like alcohol, but I know I should have noticed immediately that it wasn’t you, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m also sorry because we both hit that club already being a little bit mad with each other, and I know that after my harsh words at you yesterday, you walking on me with a chick sitting on my lap, fucking kissing me, is definitely not what you needed.

I’m not sorry for that, by the way, I still stand with what I said… but it’s true that maybe I shouldn’t have yelled at you, nor should I have said it in the way I did.

I know your family is still a sore spot for you and I’m sorry about that.

But your dad is still a piece of shit, and yeah, your mom was his victim just like you, but c’mon, she was still your mom and the way she said that rubbed me the wrong way because she was YOUR MOM and she should have done something. She should have picked you and your brothers and left him years ago, before everything went down to hell.

I know I sound like a jerk saying this, and I know you’ve probably stopped reading this letter by now, but I still stand by that. 

I know it’s harsh but it’s the truth, and if you’ve picked up this letter again and are now reading it with anger, trying to find out what I’m saying more to make a list of reasons why you should get over me, you won’t find them because Shouto, think it like this: if it had been you, if you had been in your mom’s place, what would you have done? Apart from fighting that bastard, we both know you’d have done the same thing as me: you’d have done ANYTHING to protect your kids, aka you and your siblings, from your dad. We both know you would have slapped him across the face and taken the kids away from him.

Your mom was a victim… but I still think she should have done something or talked with someone. She said she didn’t even make an attempt until it was too late, and we both know how well that went. 

Maybe I’m a jerk, and I know it’s a sore thing, a thing everyone walks on their toes over, because it’s a topic no one wants to touch, not even with a stick and from a safe distance, BUT I love you. And I hate knowing how fucked up your life was just because the adults that were supposed to protect you, be there for you, left you all alone to fend for yourself.

Your dad is— [there are several words that have been crossed so many times it’s impossible for Shouto to even get a hint of what they were]

I hate him. 

I used to dislike him, but the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve gotten to love you, the more that dislike has turned into just unadulterated hatred towards him. 

I loathe his guts. 

I no longer respect him even as a hero because I can’t believe he chose to hurt you. You, one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met. I just can’t, and I hate it because I know I can’t do anything to solve it, and I hate it, I hate it, I hate it because I’m supposed to protect and take care of you, and I know I can’t. I know there’s nothing I can do to protect you from your past, and I know that even if you’ve moved on and healed, I know that some days your mind drifts back there, and no matter how hard I try to reach you, you sometimes slide through my fingers, and I hate it. I hate how your eyes dull and how you get so sad.

And that brings me to your mom. Because even if she was a victim, she was also an adult here, and she agreed to go on with it, to give birth to you and your siblings, and she could have tapped out. She could have done so many things, but she remained passive, and I KNOW there’s a point of no return where she actually couldn’t do anything, I KNOW THAT. But what about before? 

I just. The way she talked about that, the way she admitted she just gave up and accepted the situation, accepted that your father was just going to keep beating and abusing you, keep pushing you until you broke or succeeded… made me angry. Because you’ve never given up on her, because I know you would have never given up and I know she has mended her mistakes, I know she has apologised, but that doesn’t change shit. I know that better than anyone else. I’ve changed from how I was, and I’ve mended my mistakes, but my past still haunts me sometimes. However, I don’t let it stop me, but she, she just made it sound like that.

So I snapped. 

And I’m sorry I did it with you, but I still stand by my words.

Please, come back home. 

I love you Shouto and I’m willing to take you back against your will and make you listen to me if it’s necessary. 

Fuck okay, maybe that 

Please come back so we can discuss this. 

I didn’t kiss that girl. I would rather die before cheating or hurting you, you know that.

I’m sorry.

Please don’t leave me because of this. Leave me because you no longer love me or something else, but not because of this. I couldn’t

I’ll fix it, okay? 

We need to talk about this, and I want us to talk through and about this because this isn’t healthy, Shouto. We can’t be in a fucking relationship for this long and still play hide and seek around this big elephant in the room.

And yeah, I know that means I also need to talk and I… I will, okay? Yeah, I’m leaving this written so you can shove it in my face: I promise I’ll talk about what’s in my mind if, in exchange, you do the same .

No more silent reading between you and me: we’ll actually talk like normal people… and god help us, because this is gonna be a shitshow. I’m not the best at that, and neither are you. But we need to because I don’t want to lose you, so I’m willing to go through that if that means I can still be with you.

The only question is: do you want to lose me?

Please, come back home. I’ll be waiting for you.

Don’t make me wait too much.

Take as long as you need.

His fingers caress that last line. It seems to have been written as an afterthought, quickly scribbled, and Shouto tries to get rid of this knot that has appeared in his throat as his eyes sting and his vision starts to water and blur around the edges.

He has actually felt just as the letter has described: he has forced himself to keep reading with the vain hope of getting over his stupid feelings for his even more stupid friend because he really can’t believe what he has just read here about his mom… 

But. 

But. 

BUT.

He kind of agrees with the feeling behind the words… But he also hates himself for it and, crumbling to the floor, he cries as he considers this new letter and everything it conveys.

He understands Bakugou’s point, he knows what he meant but that doesn’t mean he likes it or is willing to echo the words and go along with them, and what’s even worse: he can’t exactly go around and seek Bakugou for comfort or confrontation (he’s still on the edge about that, still doubting if he wants to punch him or kiss him) for his words because he still doesn’t know from where these stupid letters come from, so he’s left all alone, dealing with this. How lovely.

As he cools down a little, he re-reads it and yeah, no, that wasn’t a bad idea, it was worse: it was the mother of awful ideas because he feels himself getting ignited all over and not in the crush-y way he has got kind of used to. Shoving the letter inside his desk’s drawer, he heads outside, sitting on his balcony with his legs hanging out, through the spaces the banister offers. 

Forehead pressed against the cold metal, he bites his lips harshly as he considers everything, gaze lost in the sea of trees he has ahead.

These letters started sweet and kind of innocent… but this one? This last one is way too personal. However, the way it has been written clearly shows it’s not someone who is talking just for the sake of talking. 

He hates to admit it, but he has asked himself a couple of times if maybe his mom couldn’t have done something to protect them from his dad, if maybe she could have filed for divorce or something, taking them away, showing the more than obvious evidence of what was going on inside their house… And he loathes himself for it, so seeing it written down has been more than anything, a shock and a direct punch in the gut, a bitter slap of reality. 

Some birds chirp nearby, and Shouto observes them, trying to keep his mind blank, devoid of anything else as he considers that he has enough on his plate to also add an extra dose of pain for a wound that is closed… or should be already closed. 

“I need to find out where the letters come from.”

His quiet words are taken away with the wind, and closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath before he opens them and finds himself staring down at his neighbour’s balcony under him. Bakugou’s. 

Shouto is sure the author of the letters is either Bakugou or someone trying to mimic him… but why? Why is he so sure? It’s true that the man (because he’s sure it’s a man who is writing them) talks in the same manner he can easily see Bakugou doing… but maybe it’s just Shouto’s heart's cravings, imagining that he and Bakugou have that kind of relationship in the future; that is clouding his senses from actually seeing who else could be the author of the letters. 

He goes back inside and makes a list with every person he knows and starts to cross off names.

Iida and Midoriya are some of the first ones he crosses. He simply can’t see either of them cursing on paper, especially Iida. Shouto is sure there’s like a rule or something inside of Iida’s brain that forbids him from cursing. Although it’d be funny to see. 

“I’ll tell Sero and let’s see if between him and Kaminari we can make him curse at least once,” he whispers before he crosses out Kouda. Shouto hasn’t heard him talking that much… but there’s simply no way. He crosses Satou next: his neighbour is also composed, and Todoroki has never heard him curse nor being so aggressive out of his sugar rush.

Ojiro, Shouji and Tokoyami are next as he just can’t see either of them being the authors of the letters, and that leaves him with just a list of his closest friends (because he hasn’t written Mineta to begin with): Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero, Shinsou and Bakugou. 

Kaminari is a prime suspect. He is, along with Bakugou, the person Shouto can see writing these letters the most, if only with the sole purpose of messing with him… but this last one makes him cross his name, because no matter how much of a jester Kaminari might be, his friend would never intentionally harm him and this last letter is way too personal, so Kaminari is out of the list.

Next is Shinsou because, well, his friend is not even here to begin with. He’s away, on an undercover mission for the agency he’s interning with, and he’s going to be gone for at least a couple of weeks more, so he’s out of the way as well because Shouto knows how seriously Shinsou takes his hero studies and there’s just no way he would ever waste his free time pulling a prank of this magnitude on Shouto. Although after Bakugou, Shouto thinks Shinsou could be the author… for the cursing part at least. However, he can’t really see Shinsou writing down his feelings. He’d simply blurt them with a dry sarcasm that later on, Sero would translate for him if Shinsou is feeling extra spicy and decides to leave Shouto in the dark. He mostly doesn’t, he always makes a hand gesture with his pinky and ring finger to allow Shouto to know he’s not being literal, but sarcastic with his words. Also, there’s a huge lack of cat and coffee mentions in the letters for it to be Shinsou, so he crosses his name.

That brings him to Sero. His friend is also off the list because after asking Sero about the letters, he highly doubts Sero would do this to him; moreover, Sero is lately super worried about him, and Shouto knows, he knows he should just talk with him and confess that he’s in love with Bakugou and what’s going on with the letters but… He just can’t. Not yet.

Kirishima is also a big no, and he actually shakes his head as he double-crosses his name. Yeah, he should have crossed his name along with Iida’s and Midoriya’s because Kirishima is a warm sunshine and he’s one of the best friends one could ever ask for, so he would never pull a prank like this on Shouto… but from everyone else in the list, only he’d be able to replicate Bakugou’s style so precisely. He’s the only one who could impersonate Bakugou so faithfully since he knows him so well. Not even Midoriya could, not anymore at least; Kirishima and Bakugou just have a connection, and Kiri is always there for Bakugou.

Shouto realises too belatedly that he feels a little bit sour and envious of that, as he has pretty much made a hole in the paper from how many times he has crossed Kirishima’s name. He apologises quietly as he feels ashamed of his own behaviour. 

He has nothing to feel envious of. Kirishima and Bakugou are just friends, and Bakugou deserves a friend like Kirishima just as Kirishima deserves a friend like Bakugou.

And he’s beating the bush, as Bakugou would say, because there’s only one name remaining in the list: Bakugou’s. 

He simply can’t see anyone else writing those letters except the man himself, and no matter how hard he tries to picture someone else, he just can’t see it. 

He writes down Yoarashi’s name only to cross it as soon as he’s done, because even if the two of them talk still from time to time as Camie insisted on having a group chat between the four of them, Yoarashi just doesn’t know that much about Shouto, nothing beyond what the public already knows and Shouto isn’t sure, but that last letter hinted some stuff only someone Shouto truly knows would share with… although Bakugou already knows most of it from even before they got close, so… who knows, really.

Sighing, he falls back and, lying on the tatami floor of his room, he stares at his ceiling before he stretches his arm and picks up the letter he has shoved inside the drawer. He reads it slowly, trying to keep his feelings in line, and as he finishes it, he reads it again and again before rolling over to his drawer and picking up last week’s letter and the destroyed first one that is impossible to read.

Only Bakugou echoes in his mind, and groaning in frustration, he hides once more the three letters inside his drawer before he stands up and decides he’s too hungry to keep thinking about this. 

But of course his mind keeps going back to the three letters (two and the ruined one and oh, how bad he wishes he hadn’t got that first one ruined). 

As he’s heating some leftovers from Bakugou in the microwave, spoon hanging from his mouth, he considers Sero’s first comment about the letters being from the future, and the spoon falls from his mouth because what if? What if the letters truly are from the future? If that was possible, then maybe he and Bakugou are truly a couple in the future, or maybe… maybe the author is not really Bakugou, but someone else who is kind of similar to his friend but who loves Shouto like that. 

That idea makes his heart flutter, and a giant grin appears on his face at the perspective that he and Bakugou can remain friends while he finds someone similar to Bakugou who loves him and writes him love letters and—

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Blinking, he turns around and finds Bakugou observing him with narrowed eyes. 

Clicking his tongue, Bakugou groans and enters the kitchen, picking up the fallen spoon with a deep grimace before he kicks Shouto outside of the room.

“But my food—”

“You mean my food?” Bakugou snarls.

“You said I could—”

“Get fucking lost!”

Pouting, he drags his feet all the way to the living room and, sitting heavily on the first chair he comes across, he stares at the wooden surface of the table with a frown as he bitterly thinks that the fake-Bakugou from his letters for sure would spoil him with a tasty lunch and amazing food whenever Shouto asked him for it. Yes, he’s sure his future husband-to-be would surprise him with delicious food and—

“Hey Roki, what’s wrong?”

“Bakugou.”

Sero snorts and sits on the chair next to his, humming softly as his grin widens. “Oh yeah? What did our resident gremlin do to you on this fine day?”

“I’m hungry.”

“Mmh, afraid to tell you this man, but you’re always hungry. Or sleepy.”

Shouto narrows his eyes and huffs, but he can’t really deny Sero’s words, so rolling he’s eyes, he sighs and agrees with him. “But he said I could eat his leftovers whenever I felt like it. And I wanted to… but he has kicked me out of the kitchen.”

“Oh no, the nerve,” Sero dryly says, and Shouto doesn’t need to look for the wink to know Sero is being sarcastic. “You know, Bakugou is worried about you. I bet he’s probably making something new from scratch just for you, to see if maybe this way your spirits get better, dude.”

“You think so?” he asks him with hope.

Sero’s grin only widens. “Yeah, he’s our momma hen, and you know it. Dude doesn’t look like it, being all feral and snarls... and yeah, he’s actually kinda insane when you think about it, buuuuut he really does care. About us.”

“He does.”

Sero laughs and nods at that. “Yeah, and he really cares about you, Roki.” Bopping his nose with his lanky finger, Sero throws a wink at him, and Shouto freezes, feeling lost all out the blue because, does this mean Bakugou doesn’t really care about him? Was Sero just now being sarcastic too or—? “Hey Roki, Katsuki really, really, reaaaallly cares about you. You’re pretty much what’s on his mind lately.”

Shouto has a hard time controlling his flames but manages to do so out of habit… a habit he has mastered just this week, so it takes him almost five seconds to be able to ask Sero what he means.

“You know,” Sero shrugs. “Lately you’ve been acting weird.”

Oh. 

Heavy disappointment pools in his stomach, and glancing away, Shouto tries to keep a blank expression to not show how much he wished for Sero’s answer to be different.

I love you, Shouto.

Biting the inner side of his lip until the metallic hint of blood hits his tongue, he tries to keep his voice at a level tone to not give away how desperate he’s to know the answer to his next question.

“Sero, do you think Bakugou would ever be in love with someone?”

His friend almost falls from the chair from the leap he does. Staring at Shouto with wide, wild eyes, Sero laughs nervously as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Uh. Haha… why… Roki buddy, why would you ask me that? Like… what the heck, Roki?” Leaning forward into the table, almost pressing their faces together, Sero hisses, “Did someone…? You know. Oh god, I’m so dead. Uh… Roki, why?”

“I think I’m in love with Bakugou,” he blurts.

And this time, Sero does indeed fall from the chair, making it fall along with him.

The loud crash makes a couple of people come around, and Sero laughs it off, ushering them to go away, but it’s nothing compared to when Bakugou himself appears in the room, drying his hands with a towel and looking mad, annoyed, and tired at them.

“What the fuck, tapeface? You don’t even know how to fucking sit now?”

“Yeah, but then I remembered your stupid face, and I couldn’t help but laugh my ass off, so I fell from it,” Sero replies with a wide grin.

Throwing the towel on the floor, Bakugou points at him menacingly and curses, finishing off with his infamous, “DIE!” Before he picks up the towel and marches back to the kitchen.

Sero wastes no more time before he springs back to his feet and grabs Shouto from his wrist, yanking him all the way towards the elevator. Shouto goes along as he’s still in a dreamlike state after confessing his feelings to one of his friends and, well, getting that reaction out of him. 

He’s perplexed to say the least.

They end up in Sero’s room, and as his friend locks the door behind them, he starts to pace all over his room, up and down, mumbling something excitedly under his breath, and Shouto, whose heart feels one beat away from leaping out of his chest, blurts his fears and his last hope that he has just discovered in the kitchen.

“I don’t want to lose my friendship with Bakugou. That’s why I think I should find someone else to fall in love with, someone like Bakugou but who is not Bakugou himself.”

“NO!” Sero is there in an instant and, grabbing Shouto from his arms, shakes him violently. “No dude, no. Wait, Roki, just fucking wait, alright?”

Shouto can only nod as this is the first time he has ever seen Sero act so… un-chill. 

Cursing a little bit more, and making Shouto feel all worked out because… what if the letters are actually from Sero? True, this is the first time his friend has acted like this, but it’s clear Sero can also be aggressive and curse, so what if it’s him his future husband-to-be? 

“Roki… let’s go step by step, alright? You said you think you love Bakugou?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, uh… why?”

He can’t tell him, not without mentioning the letters, and even though he was considering telling Sero about the letters that might or might not be from the future, now that he’s actually considering him another possible suspect behind them, he can’t just do that, can he? How does one tell another friend, ‘Hello, I think you might be my husband from ten years from now, that if we start dating at this right moment so, uh… are you the one who is going to write me love letters and then somehow send them from the future to my present self?’ 

Is that even possible?

“It must be a quirk,” he whispers. “A time-altering quirk.”

“What?”

Glancing at Sero, he shakes his head and offers no further explanation, as he knows that if it is a quirk, he just knows the person he should be asking for advice. No one knows more about quirks than him after all… 

“Roki? Hey, uh… It’s okay if you don’t want to talk anymore, but as your friend and as Bakugou’s friend, I do really need to ask you about this: why would you say that you need to find someone who is like Bakugou to fall in love with? Why not just… Bakugou?”

Biting his lip, Shouto observes Sero and, unsure of what to do now, he just blurts, “Are you in love with me? Do you think you and I could get married in ten years?”

Now Sero doesn’t fall to the ground, but his jaw nearly does. 

Staring at Shouto almost as if he had grown a second head, he starts to nervously laugh while sweat falls down his temples. “Uh… Roki? I, uh, dude, why would you ask me that? Please, don’t ever say that again, especially not with Bakugou nearby. I don’t want to die, and I, uh,… no? I mean, you’re totally husband material but not… not to me?!”

Sighing in relief, Shouto sits in Sero’s bed and takes a deep breath.

“That’s wonderful. No offence, Sero, but now that you’ve said it, I really don’t see myself kissing you for ten minutes after I wake up.”

Sero stumbles back and observes him with a scrunched face. “What in the world?! Dude Roki, you always say weird shit, but this? This might be the weirdest and most random stuff you have ever spitted, so why? I just— Dude, half of the time I don’t get how your mind works, and I usually don’t care, like it’s cool you think so out of the box, but for the sake of my sanity I think we should go back to track. Roki, what the heck? What’s up, dude? Why are you being so spacey? Why are you… Why are you against Bakugou? Like, don’t you like him?”

Too many questions, and Sero seems to notice he has asked too much of Shouto in such a short span of time, because he sits next to him and slowly repeats all his questions, one by one, giving Shouto enough time to answer them, not pressing for further answers, simply moving on.

“Why are you being so spacey lately?”

“I had a lot on my mind.”

“Was your crush on Bakugou part of it?”

“Yes. I was trying to figure that out and keep it under control.”

“So, you do like him.”

“Yes.”

“Then, why are you against liking him?”

“I’m not.”

“But you said that you should fall for someone like Bakugou, but not Bakugou?”

“It would be the best, yes.”

“For whom and why?”

Shouto blinks at that as he considers it. “For everybody. Sero, I’ve read online that when someone falls in love with their best friend, two outcomes can happen: one, the other likes them back, and they date; or two, the love is not shared like that, and the friendship gets ruined. I don’t want to lose Bakugou.”

Sero swallows and bites his lip softly before he whispers, “But what if… what if you don’t?”

Observing Sero, trying to understand why he would say that, why he would feed his hopes up like this, Shouto sees his friend averting his gaze, swallowing loudly thrice in a row and keeping a nervous tic on his eye… which gives away that he’s hiding something. It was Bakugou who told him about Sero’s tick one day while they were playing poker. He also hissed to him Kaminari’s and Kirishima’s tics, the things that gave away that they were lying. Only Ashido escaped them, as she seems to really know how to play her cards, in well, a card game.

“Sero?” he tries again, with a little pout.

“Sorry, Roki, but I can’t do that. I’d be a dead man walking before night comes. I can’t be the one who tells you that, BUT you should definitely not move on from Bakugou. He’s your friend, you know? And I think you two would make a nice couple like… you two would be a great power couple! Yeah, like in all those mangas we read. You two would be such an amazing pair of heroes. All villains would shit themselves when you two came into the battlefield, and on a personal level, I think you manage to ground him, like… he’s less feral? I mean, he’s still a little rabid dog, but you seem like his dog-whisperer, and he makes you smile and be like, softer. Yeah, that. You actually smile when he’s around.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, dude. Kiri told me once and even snapped a picture of you two. Baku found out, but since he’s, you know, Kiri, he didn’t bite his head off because he knew the man wasn’t going to share it around… and he didn’t. I still have only seen a glimpse of it, as Kiri won’t send it to me, says only will to you and Baku.”

Shouto makes a mental note to ask Kirishima about the picture as he too is interested in seeing it. 

Deep in his thoughts, Sero clears his throat and goes back at it. “Roki? Dude, now for real, what’s up with you? You’ve been acting weird for like three weeks now. What’s wrong? You know you can count on me, right?”

Seeing the little hint of hurt in Sero’s eyes, he quickly tries to reassure him the best he can. “I do, I do. I know I can, but I… I’m not sure if I should.”

Sero’s face falls at that, and Shouto is ready to confess about the strange letters that might or might not be from the future and from Bakugou when the boy himself starts to kick at the door.

“OI FUCKERS, OPEN UP!”

Yelping, Sero quickly hurries there and opens the door wide, laughing nervously as he welcomes Bakugou.

“Baku! Hey there… buddy.”

Bakugou narrows his eyes at that and observes him with suspicion written all over his face. Shouto then gets distracted by what Bakugou is carrying: a tray filled with steaming food.

“What is that?” he asks softly, standing up from Sero’s bed and approaching them.

Sero blinks and then bursts into laughter, phonily wiping away his tears, making it more dramatic than it’s needed while he says, “A pair of idiots, I swear you two are truly made for each other. Oh my, and everybody thinks Kami and Mina are the idiots of the group. Wait till you figure this out, what a pair of morons.”

Angry, Bakugou shoves the tray at Shouto with a grunted, “fucking eat, halfie,” before he pushes him out of the room and closes the door behind him. Then Shouto hears some hissing and angry screams and Sero mocking Bakugou further, teasing him with something that Shouto can decipher as a loud explosion going off. 

Glancing down at the tray full of food, he lightens up as he sees Bakugou has made his favorite, soba, along with some miso soup and some seasoned meat on a side dish to accompany everything else. He goes to his room, knowing that no matter how rough those two might play, in the end neither will truly end up hurt, as both Sero and Bakugou are friends, so Shouto happily eats the food Bakugou has made for him, and as he’s munching it, he freezes as he realises Bakugou has indeed done all this for him. 

His head snaps back to his drawer, and he can almost feel the letters palpitating, sending shockwaves to him. He glances at the wall that separates his room and Sero’s and notices he can no longer hear either Bakugou or Sero, but he’s pretty sure both boys are still inside the room, because he hasn’t heard the door opening and then closing, and Bakugou is well known for, well, kicking doors, not softly closing them.

He finishes the soup, and there it is: Sero’s door bangs against the wall as Bakugou storms outside and opens Shouto’s with another kick.

“You,” he hisses.

“Bakugou. Thank you for the food.”

“Yeah, fucking whatever, as if I care.” Then he stands right there, hands in his pockets and looking all constipated as he glares at him. Shouto shifts a little bit, nervous as he’s not sure what to say next, but Bakugou beats him. “What the fuck did you tell Soy Sauce face?”

He almost spits the soup, and coughing, he glances with panic at Bakugou and then at the wall that separates him from his friend… or well, who he considered a friend. He never even thought about the possibility of Sero telling Bakugou about Shouto’s crush, and looking at Bakugou and seeing how the boy seems to be getting more and more angry, Shouto feels dread as his brain starts to go into panic mode.

He knows. He has to know I’ve a crush on him and now he hates me, just like all those people I’ve read on the net, who warned me to get over having a crush on my best friend because this was bound to happen and—

When Bakugou suddenly gives him the coldest glare he has ever given to Shouto and simply leaves with a “fuck off,” for the first time, Shouto knows he means it. It’s not just a dismissive Bakugou thing to do: he actually means it, and for the first time, Shouto decides to take it for real and doesn’t just ignore it, chasing after him, knowing his friend didn’t mean it because this time, he did.

He stops eating and pulling his futon out, goes to sleep after he locks his door.

The food feels glacial when he wakes up, but he eats it nevertheless, even if cold soup is not… good, and once he’s done, he goes back to sleep. He doesn’t feel like doing anything else, and his phone shows no messages from either Sero nor Bakugou. 

He sleeps.

The rest of the week goes by in a weird haze. 

Bakugou is still pissed at him and Sero, so he goes the extra mile to avoid the two of them. Sero seems squeamish and acting not like his usual self around Shouto… so Shouto avoids the two of them as well. 

It’s Kirishima who chases after Shouto, and it surprises him because he expected Kiri to go after Bakugou, but when he tells him so, Kirishima just laughs it off and tells him Kaminari is with Bakugou while Mina is with Sero.

“Mina?”

“Ashido,” Kirishima clarifies as his cheeks show a hint of red.

“Oh.”

A silence settles between them. Kirishima breaks it by pointing at the blank page Shouto has before him. “What’s that? Do we have some homework due for tomorrow?”

“I’m writing my mother a letter.”

“Oh, right, right… but I thought you did those in your room or like, I’ve never seen you doing them here, around the living room I mean.”

Shouto smiles at that before he frowns. “I don’t. I usually write them in my room, but today… I couldn’t focus.”

“Ooooh, why’s that?” Sitting on the couch across from him, Kirishima kicks his slippers off and cross-sits with a giant grin, looking at Shouto with no hidden intentions, just plain curiosity shining in his eyes.

“I’m not sure I want to deliver this letter,” he says at last, and it’s true. He does have a lot to tell his mom, but he’s wary of when tomorrow morning comes, and he has to go there again. He has checked it, and there’s another mailbox not so far away from here, in the opposite direction to his usual one… but he’s afraid a letter is going to come out of that mailbox either way.

“Why is that?” Kirishima asks him with a frown, head cocked to the side.

“The mailbox.”

“The mailbox?”

“Yes.”

“… Todoroki, are you like, afraid of the mailbox? You just sounded as if—”

“Yes.”

Kirishima blinks and stares at him with his mouth shaped like a perfect o before he starts to chuckle and quickly tries to compose himself… but more chuckles escape him and apologising quietly, he hides his face behind a cushion while Shouto can easily see from the movement of his shoulders and his muffled laughter that he’s still laughing.

Not even a minute after, Kirishima’s red face appears from behind the cushion, and with a toothy grin, he’s still laughing softly as he tries to say in all seriousness, “Todoroki, my man, are you scared of mailboxes like Kami is of roaches?”

“No.”

“Oh, thank god,” Kirishima says, but he still chuckles. “I, umm…  I’m not sure I follow you. Like, dude, I knew some people were afraid of spiders, bugs, or you know, creepy clowns, and it’s manly to have fears! But… mailboxes? I just. Sorry, sorry but… it’s kind of funny?”

“I’m not scared of mailboxes, Kirishima.” Only of what might come from them.

Kirishima nods again and, after coughing, trying to hide a couple more cackles, he composes himself. “Okay, uh, that wasn’t manly of me. Sorry. So, so sorry. Okay, so, Todoroki, my friend, I guess you already know why I’m here.”

“I do.”

“That makes this easy… So, what’s up? What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was talking with Sero about something, and then Bakugou came. He kicked me out of the room and the next thing I know he’s angry, like truly angry with me. I think Sero might have told him about… my something.”

Kirishima frowns at that. “I-I can’t really deny that, but I don’t think Sero would do such thing! You’re his buddy, Todo. He wouldn’t break your trust like that.”

“He’s avoiding me,” he points. “Why would he avoid me otherwise?”

Kirishima’s lips part, but he presses them in a thin line before sighing. “I… let me call Mina, see what she’s got from his end, but Todo? I… uh, I’m not sure what happened between Sero and Bakugou, but trust me with this: Sero would never hurt you like that and Bakugou isn’t angry with you. I know that he’s angry with himself, but I still don’t know why.”

Before Shouto can ask him what he means, Kirishima is up, walking away as he pulls his phone out and seems to be calling Ashido as he greets her with a cherry, “Mina!”

Looking back at his letter, Shouto picks up his pen as he guesses he really has a lot to tell his mom about his week, so he starts writing.

Dear Mom,

This week I think I’ve had my first real fight with two of my friends, and right now, the rest of our group is trying to make us be a whole unit again. I’m still not sure of what happened, but I think it’s time for me to tell you about a recent discovery I’ve made about myself and that might or might not be behind this ‘incident’: I’m in love with one of my friends, Mom, and I’m afraid he might have found out and is now disgusted by it.

What should I do? I would like to get over him, but this other friend told me not to, but when I asked him why, he became cryptic… and now he’s avoiding me. I’m so confused…

Kirishima returns by the time Shouto has finished writing the first page, and as he’s ready to turn the page around to keep pouring all his doubts to Rei, he clears his throat and looks at Shouto with a tight smile.

“That’s not good news,” he says dryly.

Kirishima winces. “I, uh… okay, so, Sero won’t talk. BUT. My point still stands because you see, he has told Mina that he can’t tell her anything because it’s your secret and Bakugou’s, so pretty sure Sero didn’t tell Baku anything, just like he’s not willing to let either of us know what you told him, or like, what Baku told him.”

Nodding, Shouto glances down at his letter and realises this is the first time he has barely begun telling his mom about his week, and he has so far almost filled a whole page.

Being in love with your best friend surely is messy.

Once more, he wishes he could just fall out of love, wishes he could go back to before he found that first letter and his feelings for Bakugou changed into these confusing ones.

“Kirishima, have you ever heard of a quirk that allows things to go back in time?”

“Huh? I… no? But maybe Midoriya has.”

Shaking his head, Shouto starts to tidy his things up as he feels too tired already. All this thinking has drained him. 

“Forget I asked. I’m going to sleep.”

Kirishima seems taken back but he nods and offers him a grin. “Hey Todo, talk with Sero. Bakugou will eventually pull his head out of his ass, but you two not talking is weird, and I’m sure seeing you and Sero acting so out of it is also making Baku reticent to make amends with himself.”

Bowing deeply, Shouto clenches his fists as he apologises. 

“I’m sorry Kirishima, this is all my fault. I promise I’ll work hard to get back to the way I was before.”

Then he leaves, and Kirishima stares at him with wild shock as he wonders what has just happened.

He’s once again standing right in front of the cursed mailbox. His mom’s letter is bulkier than ever, and Shouto knows his mom is for sure going to call him this time to talk with him as soon as she reads it. He has unpacked simply too much on it. 

Without checking if there’s a letter for him already waiting in the mailbox, he simply slides his in. He starts to turn around, but the letter comes out before he has even moved his hand away from the lid. Shouto stares at his hand, holding the new baby blue envelope that this time has his name written over it… Well, not even his full name.

Shou

His heart skips a beat as he caresses the shortening of his name and a smile blooms on his face before he remembers all the troubles these letters have brought to him and—

He opens it and starts to read.

Shou, 

Today is a bad day. 

I felt it as soon as I woke up, but I said nothing, and I know we promised that, given the case, we’d wake the other up, but it’s not as if I just had another nightmare. I’m fine, I promise. I just feel uneasy, and you know how much I hate feeling weak.

Either way, just looking at your face has helped me. You’re truly beautiful, princess. Even when you’re dead to the world, you somehow manage to stay pretty. Fuck, I kind of hate you for that. So pretty and for what reason? We both know your head is empty, simply filled with soba and a dumb cat napping the whole day.

I just did breakfast and stopped observing you because that’s too lame, even for me… so now I’m just writing a dumb letter that I might or might not give you, who knows. You’ll probably read it either way, but perhaps not today or tomorrow. Maybe I’ll give it to you in a box, like I did last time, simply giving you all these dumb notes I write to you from time to time. 

Fucking shittyhair, it was him who recommended to me that dumbass therapist, and that fucking hippie told me to write down my feelings in a journal, but like hell I’m gonna be like that shitty nerd, so I guess you’re the best damn next thing to a journal. Or not. At least journals don’t say dumb things back. But one can’t get his cock sucked by a journal, so I guess you do have your perks ;)

Shouto combusts as he reads that last line, and taking a deep breath, he crouches next to the mailbox as he tries to calm himself down because he can’t just believe Bakugou has just written that, but in the end, it just fits him. And now Shouto is even more sure the author is Bakugou: it has to be him because only he calls Kirishima shittyhair and then would refer to Midoriya as shitty nerd.

He keeps reading, skipping over that last line but re-reading the paragraph to keep on with what was being said.

The news is still running our catch of last night. They are praising us, but I can’t help but see how sloppy I’ve become. I know you saw it too. I saw it in your eyes when you asked me if I was okay. I let my guard down, and even if I knocked out that guy, he almost got a hit on me, and we both know that shouldn’t have happened.

I guess I kind of lied before. Today is not just a bad day: today is the continuation of a series of bad days, and I’m fucking tired of it.

I just wanna do our job and live without consequences. I hate these stupid ‘traumas’ and why do I even have to have them? Shouldn’t I be strong enough to do my job and keep moving on?

I know you would probably tell me that there’s nothing wrong with having feelings, it’s part of who we are and what we do, but still… feelings suck. Except the ones I’ve for you.

Fuck being sappy.

This isn’t that kind of letter fucker, stop making me say mushy shit. I kind of hate you sometimes because you make me soft, and I hate it… and now I kind of miss how, if I was talking this with you, you would have laughed and ruffled my hair, kissing my forehead and assured me I’m still as scary as back when I was a fucking kid, but we both know I’m not. I’m not even in the ranking of heroes that look like villains like I used to be back when I was in my 20s… what a fucking disgrace. Kids these days have no respect or know what to fear.

You’re now awake and sitting on the couch, eating your breakfast. You know I’m writing this, but you ain’t gonna ask because you just know in the end you’re gonna read this, to which: FUCK YOU. 

Here, I’m now drawing a giant dick on another piece of paper, and I’m gonna give you that instead. Let’s see what face you make then. Let’s see how smug you are then… You’re probably gonna give me the same dead fish look you always give me when you’re not amused the slightest. 

Fuck you, Shouto, you just threatened me not to have sex for a week, which HAH! As if you could keep your horny self from jerking off for a whole day. FUCK YOU and DARE ACCEPTED.

You’re playing dirty, princess, prancing around naked, shaking your ass while making doe eyes, but I won’t fail. I’ll endure and—

Shouto’s flames arise a little as he sees how the letter suddenly ends with a long line from the pen quickly being jerked from the page, and then, near the bottom, his eyes bug out as he recognises the calligraphy:

I won.

It’s his handwriting. Shouto can easily recognise his own calligraphy and the words… ‘I won’. 

Eyes moving up, he swallows nervously while the flames on his hair go wilder as he realises what exactly he won.

He can’t glance at Bakugou after reading… that. There’s no way he can keep himself calm and composed as he thinks about his future self and Bakugou doing… doing that. He simply can’t, so he keeps avoiding him and then his friends as he can see them trying to talk with him, probably further worried about him, about the two of them. 

He can also see some of his classmates give him curious glances, such as Midoriya and Yaoyorozu, and for a moment, he considers talking with them because once, he and Yaoyorozu seemed to get close… but then Bakugou and his friends kind of ‘adopted’ him as Kaminari once joked, and if he’s honest, Shouto never truly looked back because Yaoyorozu is polite, too polite, and there’s something about his friends that makes him feel alive and extremely happy and Midoriya… Midoriya was his first friend, but somehow, they just kind of drifted away, both staying with their respective group of friends. 

He’s also no longer that interested in what quirk might be sending the letters back in time, especially after this last one. No way he can show anyone that, and who cares if the letters are from the future or not? He doesn’t think they’ve a bad intention behind them, so the evil quirk theory gets ruled out, so there, nothing to worry about in the matter.

So he keeps it all to himself, and when Sunday comes around, he rushes to the mailbox and presses his mom’s letter in, quickly waiting for his letter to come out of it, wondering what new surprise is waiting for him.

He’s not disappointed when a new one comes.

Princess, 

I’m not drunk. Fuck Pikachu for insinuating so... I’M NOT.

Shou, Shou, Shou… you’re so fucking pretty. Did you know you’ve faint freckles on your ginger side? No? Fucking pity. I want to count them all and kiss them and then lick them all over. 

I want to eat you alive and then spit you back and do it all over again.

Your eyes are also fucking pretty, like who gave you the right to look so good? And they’re always so shiny and soft and look so full of love, and I still can’t believe it’s me who you look like that, like, why me? You could have had aaaaaaany other fucker in the world. Guys would love to tap that ass of yours, anyone would, but you’re mine, and YOU BETTER NOT FORGET IT .

Kami just puked. See? And he said I was drunk. I’m still not driving. I did drink a lil bit, and I would never drink and drive. I’ve standards, and I’ve someone waiting for me back home, but shhhh, don’t tell him I love him. He’s a dumbass, but he’s my dumbass.

Shit, I think I might be a little bit drunk. I just called my boyfriend, and he said I was drunk and that he was coming here to pick me up. Then, when I said we should fuck in the bathroom, bastard hung up on me and told me to stay put. The nerve. I’m gonna fuck him in the car. Fuck Kaminari. He can sleep against the dumpster while I fuck you, Shouto, you hear me? Wait, are you reading this? I don’t see the blue tick saying you have. Actually, there are no ticks. What kind of shitty phone is this and why is my hand so tired?

Shouto laughs as he reads the letter, and as he turns the paper around, trying to find out more, he guesses his future self did come to pick Bakugou and Kaminari up. He doesn’t burst into flames, he has already read the last letter way too many times and kind of got used to it… But he still feels a myriad of butterflies going wild inside of him at the mention of having sex with Bakugou.

Folding the letter neatly, he heads towards the dorms, and that’s where he gets ambushed by none other than Sero, who looks nervous and uncomfortable.

“Roki— I mean, Todoroki.”

Shouto winces at that. “Roki,” he softly tells him. “You can, I mean if you still want to, keep calling me that.”

Sero’s shoulders lift with his words, and a tentative grin appears on his face. “Roki, I… I’ve wanted to talk with you for a bit, but lately you’ve been avoiding me, and I’ve given you your space, but I think time’s out and I— I’m sorry. Please, I’m not sure what has happened, but I miss you. A lot.”

Shouto smiles and approaches him. “I’ve missed you too, Sero, and I… I’m not sure of what happened either. To me it seemed as if you started to avoid me.”

Sero’s face falls at that. “I just— I’m sorry.”

A silence appears between them, and swallowing, Shouto decides to be the one who breaks it, asking the only thing that has been bothering him. “Did you tell Bakugou about my love for him?”

“What? NO!” Getting close to him, Sero shakes his head vehemently. “I’d never do that, dude! He actually got mad with me because I wouldn’t tell him.”

“You wouldn’t tell him?” he asks slowly, making Sero pull a grimace and shift uncomfortably over his feet.

“I, uh… I can’t really tell you either… But you guys suck. If you only talked, my life would be much, much easier. Knowing both of your secrets sucks and I swear I’m like this close to kick your asses inside a closet and lock you there but alas, we’re almost 18 and I thought, I don’t know, that maybe you two would be mature enough to actually talk about it but I guess it was too naive of me to think that because it’s clear you’ve no idea of what to do with this since this is your first crush and Bakugou… Bakugou has the emotional maturity of a sack of manure, so my fucking fault I guess.”

Shouto feels the need to comfort Sero, just in the same way his friend has done for him countless times before, but from what he has managed to get clear out of his frustrated speech, it’s obvious he is one of the reasons why he’s so distressed, so… oops? 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Snorting, Sero dismisses it. “Don’t sweat it, it’s not really your fault, really. I just— Ah! I can’t really be impartial or be there for you, and that makes me an awful friend, Roki, because you really need someone to hold your hand, huh? But I’m too biased, and I know way too much and, ugh. Now the one who sucks is me.”

Playing with the strap of his messenger bag, Shouto considers it. “Sero, would you like it if we just hang out pretending none of this exists? Just you and I before I messed up.”

Sero’s eyes had lightened up at first, but by the time Shouto finishes talking, they look dull again and tiredly, Sero shakes his head. “You did nothing wrong, Roki. Falling in love is not wrong.”

“But it’s messy,” he insists. And it is. It’s a headache, that’s what it is.

“Only because your other half is being a stubborn coward and he knows it. Roki I— oh fuck it, if he wants to kill me, then so be it, but at least invite me to the wedding, even if it’s from beyond the grave—”

“WEDDING?!” he gasps. Laughing nervously, he takes a step back. “I, uh, no, no that comes in ten years from now and that if I manage to catch him because he’s playing hide and seek and I need to find the clues and—”

Sero blinks and stares at him with a frown before he simply says, “Huh? What are you talking about? Roki? You making plans of getting married in like… ten years from now?”

“No? Yes. No. Kind of? Not me! Him! It’s him who asks me to marry him ten years from now and well, I say yes and—”

Sero looks pale as he stares at him with a horrified face. “YOU’RE GOING TO GET MARRIED, AND YOU HAVE ALREADY SAID YES?!”

A loud explosion goes off somewhere behind them, and Sero looks even more livid while Shouto’s heart plummets, taking a free fall inside his body. He doesn’t turn around, but there’s no need as he can feel him, glaring at them.

“So,” Bakugou says at last, hissing coldly. “Congratulations on your engagement. I guess it’s another marriage of convenience. Seems to be the thing in your fucking family. What did you get out of it this time?”

Now it’s Shouto’s turn to get beyond mad, and Sero looks one beat away from passing out as he stares bewildered at Bakugou and then with fear at Shouto, who feels his whole body turned into ice. 

A thousand of angry replies come to the tip of his tongue… but instead he simply grips tightly his bag and moves away, heading towards their dorm building, offering Bakugou his coldest shoulder as he knows that will hurt the other more than any other reaction he could give him, since Bakugou is such an asshole he starves out of the attention people give me and he loathes whenever he gets none. 

The tiny explosions and snarled hisses he hears behind him only confirm it, but he doesn’t stop, and his face must be showing off how pissed he is, because people gasp and move away from his path, some even averting their gaze as they get close to him. 

When he reaches his dorm, he shoves with contempt the letter inside the drawer and for a second, he considers burning it along with the others because there’s no way he and Bakugou can truly be in a relationship in the future, no way he can ever date someone like him, stay with someone like Bakugou who so easily says such cruel and painful things without even batting an eye and—

He cries. Crumbling on the floor, he unfolds the letter and cries brokenly as he can’t believe the person who is praising his good looks and being so… lovely has just said such an awful thing to him. 

He recalls the third letter, and pulling it out, he scrunches his nose as he realises maybe Bakugou can, as he says so in this letter, that the way he told those things to Shouto wasn’t the best but that he’s willing to change and become better. 

Since there are no timestamps in any of the letters, he has no idea of when each one happens, so who knows when Bakugou decides to become a better man for him.

“But I still like him,” he whispers, angry with himself, and it’s true, even with his flaws, Shouto still likes Bakugou, even if at the same time he kind of wants to punch him in the mouth and then kiss it better.

Love surely is messy and contradictory like that.

He doesn’t like it. 

He doesn’t like it one bit.

He avoids Bakugou for two days, being all cold and turning his face away with a huff whenever he catches the other even looking in his direction. He knows he’s being a little bit dramatic, but he can’t really forgive him.

Sero isn’t faring too well either. He looks kind of sick whenever he looks at either of them, and Shouto wishes he could clarify this whole mess, but he’s not sure he actually wants to. 

The Bakugou from his letters is his and only his, and he wants to keep it like that. And that realisation is also messing with him because he’s now wondering if maybe he’s falling in love with the Bakugou of the future, the man that he might never get a chance to know because right now, he can’t really see himself dealing with present Bakugou, and this future version of him seems to only exist because actual Shouto should start a relationship with him. But one, Bakugou surely doesn’t seem ready or interested in that, and two, Shouto is still pissed.

It’s a mess, and it becomes even worse when Aizawa pairs the two of them for a match. It’s brutal as neither holds back and both act even more ruthlessly than ever. He freezes Bakugou’s body completely, leaving him with too much cold within his bones, to the point his concern erases all his anger as he sees him pale as a ghost and with clattering teeth so loud, he fears one might break away… before Bakugou blasts him across the space, making his body collide harshly against a metal post, bending it with the shape of his body, knocking the air out of him and surely breaking a rib if that crack he has just heard is any indication.

Aizawa shouts at them to stop it right there, but Shouto attacks back and Bakugou does the same.

In the end, both end up in the infirmary, being grounded and scolded for almost an hour before Recovery Girl tells him he does have a broken rib and three bruised ones and orders him to lie down and sleep it off for a couple of hours. She only heals the broken one per Aizawa's order, as it’s their punishment to deal with their wounds to learn the lesson, as he can’t believe two of the top students from third year would do such a stupid and petty thing.

He’s disappointed, and Shouto feels that. 

Lying in his bed, he tries to ignore Bakugou’s presence in the bed next to his, but it’s kind of hard when he can hear him still shivering from the cold he has left in him.

He wants to offer him his arm and warm him up, but he’s still angry, and before he can stop himself, he coldly says, “You had no right to say that, and even if that was the case, it’s my life, but you should know better than anyone else that I’d never get married out of convenience.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but Shouto can sense he wants to. Too bad he’s done with the conversation, and turning around, he offers him his back.

Bakugou remains silent, and by the time Shouto leaves, he can see from the corner of his eye that Bakugou seems tired and done... and sad.

Shouto,

Today I saw a cat that reminded me of you. Fucker was a cute little thing with mismatched eyes and followed me around like a pest… Sounds familiar?

He makes up with Sero, and Sero apologises deeply and over and over for blurting what he did back that day, but he drops it when Shouto asks him to never again bring it up. He also asks him to drop the topic of his love for Bakugou, and it seems the rest of their friends are now torn between the two of them. Shouto tells them not to pick a side, because this is between him and Bakugou, but still, Sero seems to only hang with him, and when Shinsou comes back, he simply takes a look at all of them and, rolling his eyes, he flips Bakugou off before sitting next to Shouto.

“You better start making soba for a year, you porcupine.”

“I know,” Bakugou hisses from the other side of the couch.

Shouto pretends he hasn’t heard anything as he keeps reading his book. They are supposedly playing video games, but he isn’t, and neither has Sero. 

Shinsou talks with Kaminari about his mission, without giving away too much, as it’s still an undercover thing, but Shouto stops reading to give him more attention because even if it’s just some tidbits, Shinsou’s adventure sounds really interesting. Kirishima seems to think so too, because he drops the controller and plummets right onto the floor, sitting cross-legged right next to Kaminari as he listens to Shinsou spellbound, almost as if Shinsou was a siren singing.

He’s also too into the story that he doesn’t even notice Bakugou moving away, only to return with a little serving of soba that he places next to him, in the armrest of the couch. He doesn’t say anything, just leaves it there, and when Shouto picks it up, his heart almost leaps out of his chest as he takes notice of the small folded note that comes along.

Meet me at the door at 17:45

He can’t help but compare the calligraphy with the one he has come so used to. He can see the similarities as well as the differences, and once more, he wonders why. It’s something that has been bugging him ever since he first got the first letter. He knows Bakugou’s calligraphy, so then why couldn’t he immediately recognise it? It’s strange. Does one person’s handwriting change so much as years go by?

“Sero, has your handwriting changed over time?”

His friend frowns, but it’s Shinsou who answers.

“Sure, and it also depends what I’m writing for.”

“Explain.”

Shinsou snorts. “Explain,” he mimics him. “You just sounded like a teach. Okay, so if I’m writing notes for myself, they’re messy because you know, my notes, but if I was writing, I don’t know, a really important document to be read by others, I’d definitely give my best and do my best kanji with neat strokes and perfect and legible, you know, everything.”

His answer gives Shouto a warm feeling, and he fights the urge to glance at Bakugou because, well, does this mean the letters he writes (or will write) to Shouto are important enough to look neat and pretty?

When the time comes, he excuses himself and realises Bakugou is already gone, so he hurries to the door and sees Bakugou is actually down the path, looking at the little woods that surround their dorm building. He approaches him warily, wondering if maybe Bakugou is looking for a rematch or—

“Let’s go.”

Without further explanation, Bakugou starts to walk ahead, and Shouto follows him a little bit cautiously as he’s still lost, without knowing what exactly is going to come out of this. When they finally stop, he can’t help but die on the inside from the cuteness as the most precious kitten approaches them.

“I’ve seen it around,” is all Bakugou says, and Shouto doesn’t care because he’s too busy petting and cooing at it.

He’s been playing with the kitten for who knows how long when Bakugou talks again, and the way he so hesitantly does so makes Shouto frown because this is a new thing for him: Bakugou never doubts.

“I, uh… What happened that day, actually, what happened a long time ago I— I… Fuck it.” Blinking and observing him, Shouto sees Bakugou is struggling with himself, teeth and fists clenched as he glares at the floor before he spats, “I’m sorry, okay?”

Well, that surely is the most aggressive apology Shouto has ever received, but it still makes him happy because it’s a Bakugou apology and he guesses he’s dumb and in love and—

“I’m still pissed,” he mumbles.

“I know. Shit, fuck… I know.”

“You still owe me a lot of soba… and cats.”

“Shut up!”

And just like that, both know it's okay. With a huff, Bakugou sits next to him and hesitantly starts to pet the kitten, who seems to thrive at the new touch, making Shouto frown as he can’t believe he can be so easily replaced and—

“I was angry when I heard that. I just… I lost it.”

“But why?” he asks him, lost. He truly has no idea why Bakugou would get so pissed with something as silly as that.

“I don’t want you to… to do that.” Bakugou finishes lamely.

Shouto frowns and turns around to face him as he feels his mood getting somber. That’s not what he was expecting to hear because ‘that’ is getting married, and does this mean Bakugou never wants to ask him to get married? Does this mean the letters are fake or—

“Are we changing the future?” he whispers with dread.

“What?”

“I’ve to go.” Placing the cat in Bakugou’s lap, he rushes back to the dorms and then speeds to his room, before kneeling in front of his drawer and, with shaky hands, he opens it and pulls the letters out. He starts to unfold them with fear, and relief goes through him as he sees they’re all still intact with the same words he has come to memorise, so then why… “Why would Bakugou say that?”

He obtains his answer three days later, during class, and it’s definitely not the answer he was expecting nor hoping for. It actually leaves him in shambles and utterly destroyed, as in today’s class, they discuss the multiverse… or parallel universes. 

As he sits in his chair, he hears about worlds that theoretically could be exactly like theirs but with a tiny difference that might change everything.

“It’s like a tree with infinite branches, endless possibilities: for example, I could be wearing these same clothes but with a green vest, and that could trigger something to happen in juxtaposition to me wearing this orange one.”

“Maybe you find your love, teach!” Hagakure jokes, and some laugh along while Shouto grips his desk tightly because what if?

Glancing at Bakugou’s back, Shouto starts to tremble as he wonders what if the letters aren’t from this future, his future, but instead from a parallel world where he and Bakugou are actually together but they do not end up together in this world he’s living, and what if—

“Todoroki?” Yaoyorozu whispers at him. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

“I, uh. Yes, yes, I’m doing okay.”

Biting his cheek, he quickly puts on his best facade of blankness and pretends he’s listening to the rest of the lesson, even if he’s panicking inside, wondering all the what-ifs of this new… discovery.

It makes sense. The Bakugou he knows would never write him love letters, yet the letters sound like Bakugou. For sure, it must be an alternative Bakugou who is still him but not at the same time.

That knowledge shatters Shouto, and as the class ends, he excuses himself and runs away as he holds the pieces of himself barely together, mourning the loss of something that was never his to begin with.

“You’re acting strange, stranger than usual, I mean.”

Glancing up from the manga he was reading, Shouto meets Sero’s concerned eyes.

“I’m not, I’m fine.”

“No, no you’re not. You’re acting all spaced out, and it’s giving me the creeps because one can only stare at the void for so long without going cuckoo-crazy, and you’re way beyond that limit, dude.”

“I just… I’m thinking.”

“Yeah? Well, you better be coming up with the next best damn invention that will make support group shake in fear, because damn.”

Shouto smiles softly at that, and Sero offers him a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes, showing off how truly worried he is. Shouto’s smile falls as he can’t believe he’s making his friend so miserable when this is all his own fault and trouble and—

“Dude! Roki, for real, if… if you can’t trust me with it, just— Just talk it out with someone else, but please? Don’t go all Early-Roki on us. It’s just not right.”

That makes him gasp, and closing the manga, he stares at Sero with wide eyes, “You think I’m becoming my past self?”

Sero chuckles at that. “No, no, and your reaction is enough proof of it, but Roki? Seriously dude, you should try to find someone to talk to because I can see you’ve got a lot inside of you, but you won’t let it out and that ain’t cool… is it… is it your crush on Bakugou? I know I said not to, but please talk to me.”

Biting his lip, Shouto considers it. “I… It’s not exactly that. It is… but at the same time it’s not.”

“Explain,” Sero says teasingly, imitating what Shouto usually says.

Shooting him a narrowed glance, Shouto fakes a little bit being annoyed before his expression falls, and playing nervously with a wrinkle on his pants, he sighs as he guesses maybe he should actually bring up the letters and his theory of the parallel worlds and—

“Do you remember the letters?”

“Uh… no? I mean, what letters? Oh, you mean the ones you write to your mom?”

Shouto hesitates a little bit. “Uh, no, not those. I. Okay, so I do write letters to my mother and every Sunday, I send them.” Sero nods at that. “Okay, so the mailbox I use… well, I think it’s affected by some quirk because whenever I send a letter, another one comes for me.”

“What?!” Standing up, Sero approaches him and starts to study him. “Dude, why didn’t you say anything? What if it’s something evil or villainous or—?”

“They are love letters, Sero.” That makes his friend open his mouth, and his eyes become wide open. 

“What? Who?”

“Bakugou,” he whispers.

He expects Sero to laugh it off, make an off-handed comment or joke about how Bakugou would never write love letters to him, how he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body or anything except the nervous swallow Sero does, followed by a quick avert of his eyes.

“Sero?”

“Uh… I don’t get it, Roki. Bakugou writes you love letters? Then why are you two still dancing around? And why do you say the mailbox has a quirk? I mean, I just—“

“Stay here.”

Going to his room, he hesitates before he picks up the last letter he got, but he guesses that one is pretty tame and inoffensive and its contents will work well enough to illustrate his point. 

When he returns, he sees Sero mumbling something under his breath and running a hand through his hair over and over, making a small crest atop his head with his shorter hairs before he blinks and refuses to take the letter Shouto is handing him.

“Ah no, no, no, no! Roki, today I’m not feeling suicidal, and if Bakugou finds out I’m reading your mail and that you are giving it away like that, we’re both dead, you get me and—”

“Just do it!” he snaps. “Please? You’ll understand everything once you read it.”

Lips quivering a little in a nervous tic, Sero licks them and tries to control his shaking hands before he grabs at last the folded letter Shouto was offering him.

Closing his eyes, Shouto starts to mentally read what Sero’s eyes must be seeing for the first time now.

Shouto,

Today I saw a cat that reminded me of you. Fucker was a cute little thing with mismatched eyes and followed me around like a pest… sounds familiar?

Before you can ask me the answer is no: no, we can’t adopt it and have it we’ve been over this a thousand of times, we work way too much and the poor beast would go insane and no, we can’t simply adopt two so they keep each other mutual company because we both know the second I give you the go, our place is gonna become a shelter for every fur ball you come across during your patrols so no .

Don’t make me puppy eyes either, it ain’t gonna work. Too many years with you and your pouts fucker, I’m already immune.

Either way, I saw the stupid cat, and it reminded me of you, but maybe it’s only because you’re gone and I kind of miss you… But only a lil bit, okay? It’s not as if I need you, fucker. I’m actually enjoying living all by myself in our place: no extra dirty dishes, no daily soba or fights for the lack of daily soba, no messes to clean in the bathroom after certain princess is done make a recreation of London on his best day, no punches or kicks in the middle of the night because certain someone has drunk way too much before bed… no cuddles, no kisses. Fuck I miss those. The kisses, not the cuddles, get down from your horse!

Tsk, you’re insufferable and I should be living the best moment of my life because at last I’ve our home all to myself BUT I kind of miss showing you how wrong and stupid you are, I kind of miss having you always there, perched over the counter, observing me cooking while you blurt whatever dumb shit crosses your mind, making me lose it because damn babe, and people think you’re intelligent? They should just cohabitate with you for a day and let’s see what they think after that.

Remember that time you bought a telescope and spent a whole week trying to catch aliens with it? You had been seeing some weird conspiracy videos online, and no matter how much the idiot squad or I told you that you weren’t going to see shit, you still did it, taking notes like the shitty nerd in your own nerdy notebook. I think we still have that somewhere in a closet.

FOUND IT! 

Fuck you! Oh my fucking god! I can’t believe you!!! Was it all a prank? Were you actually messing with me? I’m reading your notes, and they’re all observation notes about me and hypothetical questions about how long it’s gonna take me before I snap???

Pikachu and Tape Face are dead .

I can’t believe you made a bet, and I can’t believe the prize you got out of it was so fucking low. Fuck OFF!!! My sanity should be worth more money. I fucking hate you.

No, I don’t. It’s been three days since I wrote that and two since I last received any communication from you. I know you’re okay. You have to be .

You better be okay, Shouto. You have to come back home to me. You promised.

Never mind, you’re a fucking moron. You can die for all that I care. You fucking forgot your charger???? I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.

I hope you choke with your stupid soba, and guess who ain’t gonna do heimlich on you? This good-looking boyfriend of yours.

Fuck off and die,

When Sero finishes, Shouto sees him re-reading the whole thing again, and with every read, Sero becomes paler and paler. 

“Do you understand what I mean now?” he asks him quietly. “The letter is from Bakugou, but not from this Bakugou. It's a Bakugou from the future, but now I’m afraid maybe it’s not the Bakugou from our future.”

Sero blinks slowly and glances at him, devoid of any emotion, trying really hard to not let Shouto see any of what’s going on through his head.

“W-what do you mean? Roki, I— How do you know this is from Bakugou?”

Shouto’s world crashes. Like piles of glass, everything crumbles around him. 

“What? What do you mean? C-can’t you see it? That letter is clearly Bakugou’s. Who else would be writing like that? It’s the way he speaks and— Can you seriously see someone else writing that?”

Sero winces at that, lips curving down while his brows scrunch as he does a quick read of the letter in diagonal. In the end, he shakes his head a little.

“No, I guess I really can’t see someone else writing this… but Shouto, where? Where did you get this from?”

“I told you,” he repeats, a little bit weary. “The mailbox. Every Sunday, whenever I send a letter to my mom, the mailbox gives me that in exchange. At first I only picked up the first letter to check to whom it was addressed since it only said Todoroki, but when I saw my name, and I could only see Bakugou writing it, I— I…”

Sero nods slowly and, swallowing, he folds the letter before handing it back to him. “So there’s more?”

“Yes.”

“I, umm, I’m not sure if I should—”

“No,” he curtly says. “They’re too personal.” Blushing a little bit, he rubs his arms while he looks anywhere except at Sero. “I can’t show them to you, but trust me, they are from the future, and only Bakugou can be the author. I actually made a list with all of you and crossed out your names.”

Scratching the back of his neck, Sero rubs his hands over his face before he sits heavily on his bed and sighs. “This is giving me a headache. Dude, why didn’t you say something else sooner?”

“I did! Remember? I asked you if it had been you or Kaminari pulling a prank on me because the first letter hinted something that I hadn’t done, and I was confused, and you said it had probably been Kaminari, but then I don’t know… A lot of things have happened as well.”

Sero swallows again and nods. “Yeah, now that you mention it, I do recall that conversation, and now that I actually know this, a lot of weird stuff you’ve been saying makes kind of sense… Wait.” Turning at him, Sero’s face lights up a little as he points at him with his finger and teasingly asks him, “Does this mean it’s Bakugou who you get married to in ten years from now?”

The influx of warmth he feels on his face tells him he’s blushing, and the loud cackles Sero does only confirm it. But in the end, he has to burst the bubble with a soft kick on Sero’s shins. “Sero, I told you I’m now no longer sure these letters are from our Bakugou.”

“Huh?”

He quickly gives him a run-through of his latest theory, the one about parallel universes, and as he finishes, Sero looks kind of dizzy and lost before he slowly starts to shake his head, only to do it more vehemently. 

“No, no, no! You. Roki I— Trust me with this: you’re missing a big chunk of key information, but no. I… I’m pretty sure our Bakugou can write those letters to you. Trust me.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me that much and—”

Sero laughs at that, and falling back on his bed, he keeps laughing while cursing and muttering something under his breath before he sits up with newfound energy.

“You two need to talk, like yesterday, and get over this bullshit. Roki, do you know why Bakugou got so mad when I teased you first about getting married?” Shouto’s mood falls at that reminder. “Don’t,” Sero warns him. “Trust me, he was a dick, a total dick, and he knows he has fucked it up, but he did it out of jealousy and because he has the maturity of a three-year-old, but he has learned and this,” he grabs the letter again and shakes it, “only proves it. He’s… uh, how old is he in this letter?”

“I don’t know. There’re no timestamps.”

“Right, right, so anyway, even in the future, Bakugou is still like an overgrown kid because it’s obvious the guy is whipped for you and still tries to play it cool, saying shit like how he doesn’t miss you and telling you to ‘die’. See? Emotional damage as a kid, I’m telling you. Guy needs some love, and that’s where you need to step up: write him back.”

“What?!”

Sero now looks all happy and excited as he snaps his fingers and rushes to his desk, only to return with a torn piece of paper and a pen that he shoves against Shouto’s chest.

“Write him back! Or, well, write him a letter. Tell him how you feel if you can’t confess your love to him as you are now. Because you can’t just go to his room and say: Bakugou, I’m in love with you. Date me… Right? Although that would make things muuuuuch easier.”

“You want me to write Bakugou a love letter,” he dryly says.

“Yup!”

Now Shouto is sure Sero has lost it because he can’t see how his latest theory must be the right one? The letters are from Bakugou, but no way they can be from their Bakugou. It simply can’t be.

They have a little discussion about this, with Shouto parroting back all the points he has already explained to Sero about the parallel universes and Sero trying to knock them down.

“I’m telling you he would never write me a love letter!”

“And I’m telling you he would, he would totally do it if you told him you like them, and when I say that, I mean even with an off-handed comment because dude is totally head over heels for— Ugh. Forget I just said that,” Sero quickly hurries in a breath. “Please Roki, I just— Oh fuck me. Please, please, please don’t ask me further, but trust me: the letters, if they’re from the future and this isn’t a new villain trying to fuck up with you… They’re truly from our Bakugou, the same one that is downstairs, dying to get your attention, so please? Stop being so stubborn and— Wait. Roki? When, when did you, I mean… when you told me you were in love with Bakugou… what triggered it? Was it the letters?”

“Yes.”

Sero seems on the edge of passing out and gripping his hair, takes a deep breath before he grabs him from his shoulders. “Roki, no, Shouto, I need to ask you something, and I need you to think about it really carefully before you answer me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Are you… are you in love with Bakugou-Bakugou or… with the one from the letters?”

He wants to laugh it off and say the first one, but doubt hits him as he remembers how once he mourned how the Bakugou from the letters wasn’t real and how badly he wished it existed because then he would definitely kiss him and—

“Both?” he says in the end. “I mean, I do like Bakugou, but the one in the letter is… he is… he’s not perfect, like the real one, but he loves me and—”

“Our Bakugou does too,” Sero whispers grimly. “Trust me, Roki, you’ve no idea of how much he does, and if he ever found out… fuck, I bet the guy would go nuts even if he were going to be jealous of himself or a hypothetical himself from the future or who knows from where and— You need to stop it with the letters.”

“No.”

“Roki, you need to talk with Bakugou, like now.”

“I can’t.”

He pushes Sero away from him as he’s so confused and hurt and betrayed because, can’t Sero see the Bakugou from downstairs is only going to shatter his already fragile heart? True, the one from the letters has also wounded Shouto and will keep doing it (see the second letter), but in the end, he loves him and isn’t afraid of saying, writing, and showing it, but his Bakugou… His hands move to his sides, and he frowns as he grazes the ribs Bakugou bruised while they fought. True, Shouto also sent Bakugou to the infirmary, but still— would the Bakugou from the letters do that? Maybe or maybe not, but—

“Shouto,” Sero whispers. “I… This isn’t healthy. I-I get it. A lot of shit has happened ever since you first got those letters, and lord knows Bakugou has been a total gremlin with you and all that, but please? He’s hurt too, and you know how he has this huge ego and sometimes bites first, asks questions later. It’s just who he is, and you know it. Don’t let yourself get blind and sidetracked by a mirage from the future. People mature and remember how Bakugou was three years ago? Just. Think about it. The one you are clinging so badly to is a work of maturity, and I’m sure he’s also been curated by love, so it’s not fair you compare them.”

After that, he left Sero’s room, and now here he is, still ruminating on everything that both have talked about. He knows Sero is right, and the thing is, he really likes Bakugou, his Bakugou, with his flaws and awful mood swings, with his silent care and intelligence, with his lack of… emotional maturity, as Sero calls it. 

He likes him.

But.

Glancing at all the letters he has all over his desk, he can’t help but feel lured by them, including the first one whose content he no longer recalls. Fingers grazing every single one, he smiles as he can feel the traces of the pen on the paper from how harshly its author pushed it.

It’s such a Bakugou thing to do he can’t help but smile.

Bakugou,

I’m not sure why I’m doing this or if you’re ever going to receive this letter (probably not), but here I am, writing it. I won’t probably tell Sero I’m writing it because then he would surely nag me to give it to you, and I’m still not sure of your reaction or if I can endure it.

I do agree with everything I read online: being in love with your friend is messy. 

My life has veered into a path I no longer know how to control ever since I acknowledged these feelings for you and I gave them a new name.

I’ve considered it, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you for awhile now but before, it was easy, loving you was and is easy because you are easy to love… but the problem is me, because I also adore our friendship and it’s a hard pill to swallow to recognise that ever since I opened my eyes and told myself I wanted to kiss you, our friendship seems to have sunk. It’s my fault. I’m the only one left to blame here, am I not?

I want to be your friend, but I also want you all to myself, and I want to do all the things couples seem to do because the idea of you holding me and kissing me makes me go on fire, literally, and I want that now that I know I could have it, but I also know you don’t want that and I hate it.

Writing letters is hard, and I’m not sure what else to say, so I’m going to finish this one here and instead write to my mom. 

With love, 

Shouto.

Sero gives him glances during the rest of the week and tries to push him and Bakugou together, which is kind of nice since Bakugou is back to his normal self… but it’s also a little bit exasperating because Bakugou, if anything, is observant and Sero isn’t being exactly sneaky. But Bakugou doesn’t snap at Shouto, instead, he explodes Sero’s face and hisses at him something before he goes back to sit next to Shouto, pretending he hasn’t just done that. Okay, weird.

Aizawa matches them again with a curt, “If you end up in the nurse again, it’ll be because I’m kicking you all the way there, you got it?”

Shouto almost replied a ‘yes, sir’, but Bakugou slammed a hand over his mouth and hissed that it was a rhetorical question, so Shouto remained silent and allowed Bakugou to drag him all the way to the arena before he moved away and their match began.

Both still attacked and smacked each other around, but it was within the normal and acceptable limits of the hero course, so Aizawa didn’t even scold them, just pointed out all the things both still have to work through, and in the end, Bakugou approached him and asked him to meet him later to work on them, and they did exactly that. Both sparred and worked on their attacks the whole evening until Kirishima joined them with Tetsutetsu. 

It’s nice, it’s normal, it’s everything he wanted and asked for, right?

Wrong.

Bakugou, 

It’s really hard to pretend I’m just your friend. When we walked back to the dorms, side by side, I had a very hard time trying to hold myself back from reaching you and linking our pinkies like I’ve seen done in some movies. I know your hands are warm, but I really want to feel them around mine and—

I’m really an idiot, am I not? I got what I wanted: I got you back, I got our normal friendship, and now I’m wanting something else. I’m truly awful.

He leaves the dorms with the letter for his mom, safely tucked inside his messenger bag, and as he starts to make his way out of the U.A. grounds, he hears someone calling for him. He sees it’s Sero, and his stomach jerks as he has an inkling of why his friend is here.

“Roki!” Panting as he has run all the way here, Sero gives him a half-sided grin before he becomes all serious. “Roki, are you going to the mailbox?”

“You know I am.”

Sero nods and quickly glances away. “Why?”

“To send my mom her letter.”

“And that’s it?” he asks him tentatively. “You’re only going for that, not because—”

“Sero.”

His friend raises both of his hands and shakes his head. “Roki, I’m just worried about my two idiotic and emotional constipated friends, that’s all. Have you talked with Bakugou?”

Annoyed, he blurts a no and Sero winces. 

“You should really do.” 

“Is that all?”

Rolling his eyes, Sero makes a go-on gesture with his hand, and Shouto takes it as his cue to leave. 

The journey to the mailbox feels longer than ever, and as he stumbles upon the street, he sees a strange shadow moving away from the mailbox that makes him halt himself and question if perhaps he should turn around and— 

He moves and, following where the shadow has disappeared, he finds out it was a cat, a cute black tabby that welcomes him with a loud meow. After petting it for a little while, he moves to the mailbox and slides in his letter while he places his hand under the lid and waits for his letter to come out.

And waits.

And waits.

And waits.

No letter comes, and panicked, he kneels on the floor and opens the lid, trying to see if maybe the overture is plugged or constricted with another letter or—

A letter smacks him straight in the face, and Shouto rubs his nose because that hurt. Picking it up, he sees it’s another bulkier letter. Frowning, he weighs it up and down his hand.

“I should read this now… Otherwise Sero might bug me to not do so and—” His train of thought makes him halt. He shouldn’t feel so guilty or be thinking about sneaking around to read a letter, yet that’s exactly what he knows is bound to happen.

He heads to a nearby park and, stepping through the little trees and bushes that are around it, he finds a small clearing and squats right there, getting comfortable before he pulls out the long letter. The first thing he notices is the stains, how the ink seems blurred at some points and how it smells of something really strong that makes his nose scrunch up, especially when he notices it’s alcohol.

Shouto,  

Todoroki, 

I’m not sure if you’re ever going to read this. Maybe you’re simply going to burn this to smithereens the second you see it in your mailbox, and why wouldn’t you? You hate me now, don’t you? That’s fine. I hate myself too.

This isn’t a letter asking for your forgiveness or for you to take me back. I know we’ve broken up and I know you’ve all the right in the world to hate my guts and want nothing to do with me anymore. I KNOW IT. But still, I have this clusterfuck of thoughts and feelings inside of me, and I need to release them before everything becomes too much, and I know I’ve mocked you in the past for doing this, for writing down your feelings, which I know is beyond shitty of me, but I think I finally get it. It’s almost as if your head gets cleared and your heart feels less heavy, doesn’t it? 

Paper can’t judge me either, so that’s a plus. You know I hate pity and stupid questions and interruptions, so being able to just pour out all my monologue feels good, I guess.

Anyway, it’s been almost a week since I last saw you, and you’ve no idea how insane that has made me go because everywhere I go, I see you . 

Your fucking ridiculous hair is dumb and so, so characteristic of you… But I still found myself chasing a poor kid with an awful dye job thinking it was you. I almost ripped his head off when I realised it wasn’t, and I was so prideful and wounded I didn’t even apologise, which is another thing to add to my shit list of traits, huh? I guess that one is so fucking long is no wonder you want nothing to do with me.

Shouto I. I’M SORRY. And I know it’s too late now. I know I should have said it first when I wounded you, and I know I should have said it a million times when you started to pack your things to move out. But no. Instead, I kept yelling awful shit to you, shit I didn’t mean to say or thought because I’m a prideful idiot and fuck! You’ve my permission to smack me with a pan in the head next time I do it again because I’m an asshole and it seems violence is the only way to knock it out of me. By the way, tell Sero that nice hook, my jaw still feels it days after.

I’m sorry I’m a disappointment not only to you but also to our friends, especially him, whom we dragged into our shit for so long. Take care of him, alright? He’s a fucking good friend, and I hate that I’ve not only lost you, but also him.

Shouto, I’m so, so fucking sorry. I can’t even describe with words how wrong I was, what an idiot I was. Do you think maybe one day you could forgive me or like, give me a chance to properly apologise? I want to. I want to say it to your face. I don’t want to hide behind this piece of paper. I want to look you in the eyes and tell you how sorry I am, how badly I’ve messed it up and—

The phone just rang, and I fucking fell over my own feet trying to pick it up, foolishly thinking it was you, that somehow that connexion of ours we seemed to have had made you sense how badly I need you… But no. It was a fucking commercial.

I’m crying from how pathetic I am, especially because after that, I destroyed the phone, smacking it over and over into the stupid holding thing and I just realised how right you were: I’m a monster, I’m awful and I only destroy everything I touch and no please, don’t say you didn’t mean that even if I saw it on your eyes the second you told me: you were right . I’m like Midas, but everything I touch turns into ashes or shit.

I act all cool and mighty. I act pretending I’m the best, but we both know it’s all a facade, and I should have never crossed the line because out there? I’m allowed to play as much as I want that role, but inside our home? No. Inside our home, I shouldn’t do that. I should share with you everything. I should give you back everything you give me, and I shouldn’t hide anything because that’s what we’re supposed to do: take and give back, and I’ve been a selfish asshole that has only taken and taken and taken, and I’M SORRY.

Shouto, I miss you so badly. I wish I could cuddle against your body and press my face into your neck, taking a deep breath of your smell because in just one second, I would feel instantly relieved and I really need that, okay baby? I really need you because my chest hurts. My heart is bleeding, and nothing I do, eat or drink makes it go away, and this pain is consuming me.

Are you in pain as well? 

I bet you are. Fuck I’m so awful. Because I did that and here I am, crying and bitching about how I want it to be over when I’m the one who did it.

Shouto, Shouto PLEASE FORGIVE ME.

Guess I lied because here I am, asking you to please, please, please, take me back in. I love you. I love you so, so much, and please, give me another chance. Let me love you like you deserve. Let me make it up to you. Please, Shouto, come back home, come back to me.

I’M BEGGING YOU.

Holding back his own tears, Shouto stops reading the letter as he notices how awful the writing turns from that point on, how it reminds him of the other letter where Bakugou was drunk, and he can see there are several splashes here and there of alcohol if the smell is any indication, so he knows, he knows it’s only going to become worse.

He keeps reading.

Do you know when I first fell in love with you? I don’t think I’ve ever told you. I’ve shared with you when I first realised and how I tried so, so hard to stop these feelings from fucking it all up, and you told me you too had tried really hard to keep yourself from wanting to be more than my friend, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually told you about when I first gave my heart to you.

I can’t remember the day. I’ve tried, so, so many times to think about when it was, but I only keep the image, that moment that made me go ‘fuck, he pretty’ but no context whatsoever.

The sun was getting low and we were walking to somewhere or from somewhere, just the two of us and you had that stupid and annoying habit of walking ahead of me, which irritated me to no end, so I remember I was going to snarl at you to walk behind me but when I looked at you, your stupid hair was like floating and I think it must have been in spring because there were sakura petals around and some got stuck on your hair and you looked so fucking pretty. The sun looked almost as if your hair was on fire and your eyes were sparkling with happiness, and I remember I thought, ‘Am I doing this? Is he happy because I’m here?’ And then you kept talking about some shit, asking me for my input, and when I didn’t say anything, your eyes lost their spark, so I blurted back something, and there they went: shining again.

And in that moment, Shouto, I felt like the luckiest motherfucker on Earth, like the most powerful man that had ever existed because I had done that, I had achieved that. And I remember when we started dating how you once said one of your biggest fears and the reason why you were so reticent about saying anything was that I only wanted to be a hero, and in our world, there’s barely any time left for romance, and you know what? I’m an idiot because I already had the perfect answer to you, but I stayed silent, and I shouldn’t have done that.

Fuck Shouto, I should have said something, I should have told you this, but I didn’t, and I hate myself for it.

I’ve always wanted to be a hero because heroes don’t lose, because they always come out victorious, and I don’t want anything except winning. But Shouto, when I’m with you, I feel invincible. I feel that I’m already winning, so being with you is everything I have ever wanted.

And now I don’t have you anymore, and I don’t know what to do. 

Please forgive me. I can’t promise you that I won’t fuck it up again because I know I will. But. I can promise you I’ll work hard to become better, and I won’t ever make this same mistake. I won’t ever take you for granted, and I’ll work harder than ever to be worthy of your love and time.

Please, Shouto, give us another chance. 

Come back home. Come back to me.

He moves aimlessly through the rest of the day, with his gaze looking over everything and everyone, feeling the pain from the letter as his and, in a way, he guesses it kind of is. He can see Sero shooting worried glances at him, but he shakes his head, and his friend doesn’t seem to like it, but accepts it.

Bakugou seems to know something is up as well and every single time Shouto looks at him, he can’t avoid but wonder what it was, what might have gone wrong between them to cause such pain between them, to make him break up and leave Bakugou into a drunk mess that cries and pours his feelings over a letter he might, or might never give to future Shouto.

He goes to sleep and wakes up at midnight, crying as he dreams of Bakugou drowning himself in alcohol, crying and whimpering his name over and over, begging him to come back home.

The walk down to the kitchen feels eternal and really cold, and as he reaches the kitchen, he’s surprised to see he’s not alone, and the person who is there is kind of the last person he wanted to see, as well as the only person he needed to see, to check that he’s alright.

“Bakugou,” he whispers.

“Cinnamon?” Is everything Bakugou asks him, and Shouto nods because yeah, he feels like some cinnamon tea.

Sitting on a stool, he looks through the window, trying to see the moon while Bakugou moves quietly around the kitchen, making his tea and whatever it was he was doing for himself. Once it’s done, he sits next to Shouto and takes a long sip of what Shouto sees it's a warm milk in a mug.

“You always look like shit on Sundays. I thought your mom was doing better,” Bakugou says casually. “Or is it something else?”

Shouto almost leaps a little but manages to hold himself back as he takes a sip, buying himself some time while he considers what he can say, what excuse he can come up with to Bakugou.

“My mom is doing fine,” he says at last, ignoring the last question.

Bakugou hums at that and his nose scrunches up. “Want to spar?”

“What?”

Shrugging, Bakugou starts to stretch and point at the small patio that can be seen through the double doors. “Sparring. Doing exercise for sure will tire us out so much we won’t be able to think about anything… that if you can even think about anything beyond soba and cats.” 

The little jab stabs him straight in the chest because Shouto is sure he has read that same thing in one of the letters.

Hiding his face behind the mug, he takes a long sip as he considers if he should or shouldn’t do this. In the end he agrees because he has too much to unwind and it seems Bakugou needs this as well, so there they go, beating each other, pinning the other into the grass and okay yeah, maybe it wasn’t a bright idea because Shouto feels on the edge of bursting into flames as this sparring session seems more intimate than anything they have done before and… why is Bakugou’s face so close to his and so handsome and—?

He pushes him away and Bakugou easily rolls over. He too seems to be going through something, and as both lay panting on the cold ground, neither says anything while the silence between them stretches on and on, becoming more and more tense.

“Christmas is coming,” Bakugou says at last. “This is our last Christmas together.”

Shouto’s eyes widen at how definitive that sounds, and he sits up, feeling tears on his eyes as he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want to lose Bakugou. He wants to be there, next to him with him for many Christmases more and—

“Oi, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I. Are you— Do you no longer want to be my friend?”

Now it’s Bakugou’s turn to look shocked and devastated before his eyes harden. “No. That’s not what I meant, Halfie. I meant with the whole bunch of extras. Why? You thinking you were gonna get rid of me that easily?”

“NO!” Flustered, he glances down and plays nervously with the laces of his pants as he whispers, “No, I just… I want to spend more Christmas with you.”

Bakugou remains silent for too long, and finding courage from who knows where, Shouto dares to glance up and sees he looks… like he's blushing. 

“Me too,” he rushes in the end, and Shouto nearly fires up, but he doesn’t as he grabs a fistful of poor weeds that had done nothing wrong except exist in that unfortunate spot, too close to his hands.

“That’s good,” he mumbles back.

They stay silent for a long time until Bakugou shivers and Shouto realises too belatedly it’s almost the end of November, so of course it’s cold, and Bakugou is well known for not withstanding the cold that well. He immediately turns his heat on and, wiggling his way to him, he offers him his warmth. Bakugou stiffens before he glances away and leans into him, accepting, welcoming Shouto’s aid.

It makes him tremendously happy, but that bliss gets outshined by the painful reminder of the letter he has just read. Is it worth this brief instant of happiness, knowing both are going to go through such pain, without even knowing if that was it for them? Because that’s the tricky part: Shouto has no idea if he and Bakugou break up in ten years or in twenty from now, so who knows if he never forgives Bakugou, if they end up their romance just like that, and wouldn’t that be even worse? Because what if it happens just right after Bakugou proposes to him? What if they don’t even get married? Then for sure the pain will be even worse because if now Shouto is already a mess, he can’t even imagine how bad a break-up will be after ten years and an almost marriage.

“Oi, what’s up?”

“Bakugou,” he says really slowly because he needs to ask someone, and he guesses who would be better than the other person affected by this? “If… if hypothetically you knew something was going to happen in the future and you were given the choice to avoid it but that meant you would never get to experience something that could also be the best thing of your life… Would you do it?”

“Huh?! I got no fucking idea of what you just blurted. Could you be less cryptic?”

He frowns as he really can’t, no. He still tries.

“I. Let’s say hypothetically you were told someone is going to hurt you really, really badly in the future and they would also get hurt in the process.”

“Like a fight?” Bakugou says plainly. 

Shouto meets his eyes and sees Bakugou is trying really hard to be a blank slate, giving away nothing of what’s actually going through his own mind. It’s kind of unnerving because Bakugou is always kind of easy to read, so easy to know what he’s thinking and feeling, and this… this feels wrong.

“Yes,” he whispers several beats later, still feeling strange. “A fight. A really bad one. One that is so bad two people might never get over it. If… if that could be avoided by, let’s say, keeping those two people apart, would you do it? Would you simply avoid—?”

“That’s bullshit.” Bakugou cuts him. “Hypothetically,” he says mockingly. “Hypothetically my ass. What’s really going on, Todoroki? Has Sero told you something, huh? Are you playing with me?”

“What, no, I… Why would Sero tell me something?”

Bakugou seems taken aback by that, and moving away from his reach, he stubbornly mumbles that it was nothing, but now Shouto knows it definitely was something, so both remain silent until Bakugou speaks again.

“No. The answer is no. I wouldn’t fucking chicken out of it. If something is fucked up, you fucking fix it. It can always get fixed. Unless it’s a death. There’s no going back from that, but a fight? I ain’t a coward. And what do you mean ‘keep them apart’? You first said something about it being the best thing in the world, so what? Are you willing to be miserable your entire life over a stupid fight?”

“But it’s really bad. And painful.”

“Fights always are,” Bakugou whispers. “Even if it’s just for a couple of minutes, that span of time you’re not on good terms with the person you care about feels like hell because even if it’s just for a brief moment, you can’t help but wonder if maybe this is it, but if you run away from it? Then for sure it’s gonna be the end, so no. I wouldn’t just avoid it because that’s bullshit. I would fight back for it.”

The way he meets Shouto’s eyes as he says so makes Shouto’s heart throb and he can feel a lonely tear falling down his cheek as now he knows what will happen in the future: even if future Shouto doesn’t read Bakugou’s letter, even if he does burn it like the man said in the first lines, Bakugou will chase him down and will make him listen. He will get his forgiveness, and he’ll try to be a better man because he promised, and Bakugou never promises things in vain.

He hugs him, or well, his body falls into his, and Bakugou’s instant reaction is to catch him, but then Shouto wraps his arms around him, and that totally counts as a hug, right? Especially when both stay like that for so long, just in silence, enjoying each other’s warmth.

“Shouto,” Bakugou whispers, and Shouto has to hold back a little whimper because that’s the first time Bakugou has called him that, not Todoroki or halfie or— “What’s truly going on? Why are you so sad lately?”

He can’t tell him, so he grips his tee tighter and buries his face into the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath, getting that sweet scent of burnt sugar tucked deep inside his lungs, enjoying it, just like future Bakugou writes he wishes he could do with future Shouto during their break-up.

“You’re right,” he whispers. “Even if it’s painful, some things are worth being experienced.”

Because if this hug feels so good? Then he can’t imagine how being with Bakugou like this for ten years at least must feel like. And he wants to experience it. He wants so, so badly to go through it. All of it: the ugly and bad times included.

Shouto,

Today we went on a date, and it’s something silly, right? Because we’ve been in hundreds of them over all the years we’ve been together, but I don’t know, something feels special about this one. Tonight you looked more gorgeous than ever, and I couldn’t help but kiss you every here and there, and you liked it. I know you did because you kissed me back with equal passion to the point some people called us out… but we didn’t stop.

Maybe it’s because it feels like it’s been ages since we last did this. Lately, we’ve been both too busy with work, too tired to even do anything else beyond some lazy kissing before and after we go to bed. 

Now you’re taking a bath, and I know what’s going to happen next, and baby, I can’t wait for it. 

I’m going to make you feel so good, and I know you’re going to do the same, and maybe this is going to make us more eager to find little windows of time where we can have more moments like this, just you and I, doing something fun just for the sake of doing it.

But now, if you excuse me, I have an amazing ass to tap, and I plan on doing it all night long.

The internship periods begin again, and Shouto goes with his father, like he’s been doing for the past three years. Bakugou goes with Miruko, so both are kind of really busy and barely hang out with each other, which Shouto considers to be a good thing as he takes these moments of being away from the other boy to analyse his own feelings and kind of unravel everything from this clustered mess that has been going on.

As he works alongside his father, he believes firmly he’s on the path of being a better hero, but as the job stops, or he has a free moment to reflect, he wonders if he’s a good man. Looking at his father’s reflection, he’s not sure. 

His father, Endeavor, is a good hero… but a good man? Maybe he’s on a redemption road to get there, but Shouto knows his father isn’t a good man or didn’t use to be, so what if? 

The heavy letter filled with pain still weighs on his mind, and he can’t simply stop thinking about it. The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders why. What happened between him and Bakugou? What went wrong? Did he do something as well? Surely he has, will, because Bakugou attacks (that’s true), but he usually does it under certain circumstances, and if he truly loves Shouto (or will love him), then he must have had a good reason to attack and wound them like that, so what was it? Why did they fight? Will they solve it?

“You seem to be deep in your thoughts,” Burning comments. “You thinking about a case?”

Shouto shakes his head. “No. I was wondering about some personal matters.”

“Oooh. I see, I see. Well, I can only hope you don’t mess up as bad as your old man there. If he wasn’t such a good hero, I’d have kicked him in the crotch a long time ago. He’s shit as a person, but a good boss.”

Shouto smiles at Burning's words. “Thank you. Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you… do you think I’m like my father? I mean, I don’t want to just be a good hero.”

Burning laughs and starts to move away. “Shouto, do you seriously think someone who is just a good hero would be asking such questions?”

He glances out, through the giant windows his father has in his office, and smiles. No, he guesses his father only started to change once he started to wonder the same.

“Thank you,” he whispers, even if Burning is long gone.

“Sero?”

“Yeah, Roki?”

“I’d like to hang out with you. Just reading some manga and catching up with how you are. Only that.” 

Sero seems a little bit taken aback but agrees, and when Shouto comes later, bringing along with him all of Sero’s favorite snacks, his friend grins widely, and Shouto feels a ball of lead on his stomach as he realises he’s been an awful friend to his friends.

They spend the whole afternoon just relaxing, talking about their internships and the manga series both are reading, sharing recommendations and exchanging opinions about the current arc that is going on.

“I think he’s going to die.”

“You think so?” Shouto whispers.

Sero nods. “Yeah. I honestly can’t see another ending for his character. Just think about it. He’s beyond the turning point, and even if he doesn’t, what else is left for him? Nah, I don’t think he’s going to live that much.”

“Oh. He was one of my favourites.”

Sero laughs at that and offers him a cookie. “Of course he was.”

Sighing, Shouto decides to change the topic as he doesn’t really want to mourn the hypothetical death of one of his favourites. “Say, Sero, who is that girl you keep mentioning from your internship? Lady Ra-something?”

Sero quickly coughs, clearing his throat and nods. “Yeah, Lady Nact, n-a-c-t, not r. She’s, uh… she’s truly something. She’s really cool and strong aaaaaand has a boyfriend, which ugh. But it’s fine, I mean, who has time to have a relationship, right?”

That last comment makes Shouto frown as he recalls the date letter.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he says slowly. “I think that no matter how busy your life can be, if you really want, you can still make time.”

Sero lightens up at that, and with a wide grin he pretends to wipe away some tears. “Look at you. Oh man, my baby Roki is now a grown-up little man! So cool and cute, ooooh, someone is not ready to give me some good ‘ld advice, huh? You think you can give me romantic advice, bro? So, does this mean you and certain someone have finally talked it out and—?”

“You seriously think he’s going to die?”

Sero’s smile falls at his sudden cut and veering of the topic.

“Really, Roki? You and Bakugou still haven’t talked?”

“Th-there’s… We have talked.”

Sero narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue. “… saying hi and good morning doesn’t count, dude.”

“We. Have. Talked.”

Rolling his eyes, Sero sighs. “This is lame. You’re lame. I swear the day you get your shit together, I’m going to make you pay and make so much fun of you two, idiots.”

He simply hums at that, and by the time he goes back to his own room, Sero grabs him from the wrist and meets his eyes.

“Todoroki, I mean it, dude: talk with Bakugou. Do it. Like, for real. I’m giving you until next year. If by the first of January you two haven’t talked, I no longer care: I’m holding an intervention. Just. Ask him to spend Christmas together, alright?”

“But… isn’t that something only couples do?”

Sero winks at him and releases his wrist. “Is it? I wouldn’t know, but hey, ask Bakugou and let’s see what he thinks about it.”

He does not ask Bakugou like Sero told him, not at first, but after reading one of the letters, he does.

Shouto, 

Just when I thought you couldn’t surprise me, you go and do it. I’ve seen you skating on ice for years but never before with such a big smile and a relaxed face. I guess it’s kind of normal as well, since whenever you have done so, it’s been out of the necessity of using your quirk for some hero thing. 

But not today.

Today we’ve hit one of those tourist traps, and seeing you skate across the ice was really awesome. I loved seeing you be so carefree. 

That I could tease you because it’s Christmas and your hair fits with most of the decorations is only a plus.

Merry Christmas, babe,

Stay pretty ;)

“Bakugou, I was thinking maybe we could do something for Christmas…”

“Huh?”

“I mean, I don’t have to work, nor do we have exams, so…”

Bakugou seems a little bit nervous for a split second before he hides it all under a mask of indifference. “You want to hang out with me during Christmas?”

“Yes.”

He pretty much holds his breath while he waits for Bakugou’s answer, and when it comes, he takes a deep breath and smiles.

“Whatever.”

“Thank you.”

All his merriment fades away as he takes one of the letters out of his drawer and something starts to bug him. The little box where he has put them somehow seems to be… less filled. He places all the letters over his desk and counts them, and yeah, he has the eerie feeling he’s missing something, but he’s not sure of what.

He starts to read all the letters and still nothing. 

Placing back all the letters, he begins with the latest one he has received down to the first one, the one where Bakugou asked him to find him in that hide-and-seek game in order to properly get asked to marry him. 

He doesn’t understand. There’s nothing wrong with the letters, he double-checks, reading them all, and yeah, he’s pretty sure the text is still the same in all eight letters. He still checks them all again, one by one, and nothing.

“The last one was Christmas, then the date one and before that… the break up. The cat one, the drunk one, the… sexy one, the other one where we fought and marry me. That’s it. All the letters are here. Eight.”

He places them back inside the box and then places the box inside the drawer, but as he closes it and glances at his calendar, his breath hitches because his numbers don’t match. If he has received a letter per week, then he should have received the first letter in the middle of October, and he’s pretty sure that if he’s not wrong, it all began at the beginning of October, so then…

He pulls them all out again and scrambles his brain, trying to find what’s missing, but nothing. He can’t really remember it. So out of a gut feeling, he writes a big 8 on a post-it note and places it inside the box before he goes to sleep.

Shouto,

Next year I’m picking up our vacation spot, you got me? This is hell. When I told you I wanted a sunny place, a place that should be hot, I didn’t mean HELL. This is way hotter than an oven! 

I hate it here, and why are there so many bugs? And oh, let’s not forget you almost passed out because you got too much sun. Like, really? You’re paler than Frosty the snowman, yet you said it was ‘fine’ and then proceeded to spend the whole day under the sun. No wonder you have sunstroke. You’re fucking lucky I love your ass that much or otherwise I’d have kicked you out a long time ago, dumbass.

I hope this serves you and—

Can’t believe your nerve! You just asked me to put all over you some sunscreen, which okay, okay, that’s good because skin cancer? That shit is real, and once more: YOU’RE PALER THAN A VAMPIRE, but were you really worried about that? No, no, you were completely naked, and I’m pretty sure your dick didn’t need me to put on some sunscreen, so.  Sex . You only wanted sex, and instead of asking like a normal person, you decided to play coy, so fuck you and your pout (I bet you wish I had done that, huh?), but I haven’t played along. I’ve covered you up from head to toe with the stupid lotion, and then I’ve kicked you out of the room. HAH! Take that fucker.

I bet you’re now pouting in the hall or on the beach, sighing at the great loss of not getting this dick on you, huh?

… fuck now I’m horny. I hope you’re still around, now you owe me.

Shouto frowns as he’s going to put the letter inside the box and sees a giant Post-it note with an 8 written on it. Counting the letters, he shrugs as he counts 8. Eight, counting this new one, so… why would he write down an eight? Why would he be already counting a letter he didn’t even have? Weird.

Christmas is in three days, and he’s really excited because his kind of date with Bakugou is coming. Today, he’s going to hang with all his friends at a pre-Christmas party since some of them are also not going to be here, even if most of 3-A is, as they want to celebrate their last Christmas together… Shouto and Bakugou are amongst the people who won’t be there, and he knows he should feel worse than he feels, but he’s also really happy because, well, an almost date.

He’s going to deliver a letter to his mom when Sero comes around, and Shouto has the weird feeling he shouldn’t let his friend see him doing this, but Sero simply winks at him and, eating an orange, he points with his chin at Shouto’s bag.

“Another letter to your mom?”

“Uh, yes.”

“Cool. Only tell her good things about me, alright?”

“I… yeah.” Sero is about to turn around when Shouto just blurts, “Sero? Did I… haven’t I told you anything else about the mailbox?”

He’s not sure why he’s asking him that, but it’s strange, right? Sero is his best friend, and he should have told him about Bakugou’s letters from the future, yet he—

“Nope.”

He crashes both physically and mentally against an invisible wall inside his brain as he stares at Sero.

A weird thing is happening in his memory: he’s sure he has told Sero, and he also has this vague feeling that they had like a fight about it, but he can’t remember and—

“I did. I told you about the letters, I’m sure I did, I—”

“You okay dude? And of course everybody knows about you sending your letters to Todoroki-san on Sundays. You’ve been doing it for years.”

“No. I mean the Bakugou letters.”

Sero chokes on the fruit. “Shit! You and Bakugou are writing letters to each other?” he scream-whispers. 

Something is wrong. Something really wrong is going on. He grabs Sero from the wrist and starts to drag him with him.

“Wait, wait! It’s cold out there, and I’m not even wearing—”

Taking off his own coat, Shouto places it over Sero and then waits for him to put on his shoes before he shoves him out of the door. He doesn’t talk with Sero, nor answers any of the hundred questions his friend is giving him. He knows he’s acting weird, he knows Sero has all the right in the world to smack him in the back of the head and send him to hell, but Sero is definitely the best friend one could ever ask for, as he just sighs once he sees Shouto isn’t going to add anything and follows him in silence.

“It’s here,” he says at last as both stand in front of the mailbox. “Look at this.” Opening the metallic lid, he points his phone inside to show that there isn’t anything, no letter hanging from there, nothing like that.

Sero blinks and stares at both the postbox and Shouto as if he were insane, and he guesses he does look like it. Without further ado, he pushes inside the letter to his mom and makes Sero turn around as he closes his eyes and prays it works, prays it’s not something that only happens when it’s only him and—

The metallic squeak of the mailbox happens like always and then the soft thud of an envelope hitting the street. Releasing Sero, he quickly picks it up and then shoves the letter right in front of Sero’s face.

“THIS! This is what’s been going on for months, and I’m 100% sure I’ve already told you this and I-I I’m sure we even fought about this and—”

“Why are you showing me your letter?”

Shouto shakes his head and shows it better to Sero, pointing it with vigor. “Look! Look! It only says Todoroki. Not Todoroki Rei, and look, there’s no addresses anywhere. You saw mine: it had my mom’s address, and in the back, I wrote down my own just in case and— Look at this.” He opens the envelope and prays it’s not an X-rated one. He prays this time Bakugou has behaved… but this is Bakugou they’re talking about, and he always manages to squeeze something sexy here and there. “See? It says Shouto! Because it’s Bakugou who wrote it, but look, look! It’s from the future. I’m sure it’s from the future or maybe— Uh. I can’t remember, but I think I had another theory, but it doesn’t matter. Read it with me.”

Shouto,

Today was a tiring day. My shift kept going on, and on and on and on for so, so long I thought I was going to die in my chair. I hate desk duty, but I guess I’ll have to endure this fucking bullshit for a little bit more until my fucked up shoulder gets better. So annoying.

At least I can use my free time to write you shit, even if you barely reply to me. Which fuck you, asshole. I know you have read my messages. The blue tick gives it away, and stop sending me stupid cat pictures, or if you do, don’t send blurry ones. So annoying. Ever heard of focus?

Anyway, Tape Face has come around, swaying through the window like the idiot he is because why use doors, right? One of these days I hope the window is so clean he smashes his stupid face against it and maybe then, he will stop being such a jerk. He has ‘invited us’ to an evening at his place… which I know you’ve already said yes because you two are like hand in glove, so fuck you two for trying to play me!

Either way, I guess there goes another Friday night with just the two of us together. Shit. I just read what I wrote, and I guess my letters are really bitching ones. But hear me out: I’m shit at talking, and I guess writing it’s kind of easier, so I guess I can complain and—

Fuck it, I’m still going to tell you in the face, but let me show my point across in all media: I want us to have a fucking Friday date night with just the two of us.

When was the last one we had? C’mon, just think about it. And no, Shouto, two weeks ago doesn’t count because Pikachu crashed it and then raccoon eyes did too, and yeah, we got rid of them pretty soon, but the mood was long gone. Who needs enemies with those jerks we have as friends? I surely don’t. Our ‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘friends’’’’’’’’’ have crashed so many of our dates it’s not even funny anymore. I swear this might be my villain origin story.

I hope you’re happy. I know you’ve just seen my latest message AND chose to left on read. Fucking whatever, let’s see how you do when you come back home, and I’m sleeping, stomach full of delicious food, while you find a big fat nothing waiting for you in the fridge.

Have nice hungry dreams, ASSHOLE,

“It’s definitely Bakugou,” Sero says. “Gosh, he’s truly an asshole even in a prank, huh?”

“What?”

Sero taps the letter and then looks around. “I have to admit I’m kind of shocked you two have decided to run along with this joke considering… well. I, uh. Nothing. So, BAKUGOU?! C’mon, you can come out, man. And hey Roki? How did you do the whole mailbox thing?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he mumbles. “Sero, this is what I meant. Look, this has happened to me a lot of times and I’m starting to think it’s definitely a quirk and I’m starting to freak out because I’m so, so sure I’m forgetting something and I’m sure I did tell you about this but you’re acting as if I hadn’t so please, if now you’re playing a joke on me stop it. It’s not funny.” 

Sero’s grin falls, and looking at Shouto, he glances around one last time before he shakes his head. “No. I’m not joking, Shouto. I.” He becomes silent all of a sudden, and making a painful face, he rubs his temples before he really slowly says, “I… I think I can remember it now. But not really? I think you’ve already shown me a letter before? I can’t really remember, like it’s too fussy, but yeah, and did we have a little arguing?”

“YES!” 

Relieved, he grabs Sero once more and both rush to the dorm, heading straight into his room where he pulls the box with the letters and opens it, pouring all its contents all over his desk. Two Post-it notes fall, and Shouto observes them with fear because he can’t remember putting those in. Well, he kind of does remember one, but not the second.

Sero picks them up, and Shouto sees a giant eight scribbled and then another one with a six written on it, but as he counts the letters, he does see there’s six, yes, but if one counts this last one he’s still holding.

“Uh… Roki?”

“They are missing. The letters are gone.”

“But aren’t they on the table?”

Shouto opens them and starts to read, and tears of frustration come down his cheeks as he knows now for sure some are missing.

“The first one is this. I do remember this one. Bakugou asks me to marry me, but I’m sure this drunk one is not the one that came after. I’m sure there was another one between these two a-and… Last week was the vacation one, but I think there was another one between this and our night date, and so many more are missing and—”

He can’t breathe, and Sero grabs him from his shoulders and orders him to take a deep breath and then release it and repeat it until he can breathe again.

“Okay. Let’s start from the beginning, alright?”

They begin to reconstruct with the aid of a calendar how many letters might be missing and since there’s a giant eight in a post-it, they decide at least there was a point where Shouto owned eight letters at the same time but maybe he has received nine or ten in total because who knows if by then, back when he wrote that post-it, he was already missing some.

“Do you think maybe someone has them?”

“No,” Shouto whispers. “If that was the case, I would still remember those letters, right?”

“Right, right. Uh… damn, I wish Bakugou was here. I mean, he’s the intelligent one. For sure he could help us figure this out.”

Biting his lip, Shouto echoes Sero’s feeling. He wishes Bakugou was here to hold him and offer him some comfort like that night he did after he read the breakup letter and—

Gasping, he takes a step back as more tears come down his eyes. “No, no, no!”

“Roki?!”

“No… Sero… Sero, what if, what if I forget that as well?”

Sero looks lost. “Forget what?”

“There’s an awful letter there, that bulky one. Bakugou and I broke up, and I was so devastated I couldn’t sleep, so I went downstairs and then the real Bakugou was there and he… he made me tea, and we talked, and then he hugged me and… I don’t want to forget that.”

Sero winces, and after he glances back and forth between the letter and Shouto, he sighs and puts them all inside the box.

“I can’t guarantee you, you won’t forget that special night, that moment with Bakugou.” Shouto whimpers at that, and his heart breaks at the idea of forgetting such a nice moment between the two of them, but Sero isn’t done. “BUT. I can tell you this: stop tangling your life with these letters and you won’t. If… If for some reason you and everybody who comes across these letters forgets stuff that involves them, then if you stop thinking and doing things because of them, you won’t forget, right? So stop even looking at them, pretend they don’t exist and just live your life?”

“I— But how can I do that? What if… What if I got close to Bakugou that night because of the letters, what if I stop doing that and—”

Laughing, Sero flickers him in the forehead. “Don’t be stupid, Roki, that’s my thing. You and Bakugou have been friends before any of this started. Say, Roki, you love him, don’t you?”

He blushes at that and nods. “Yes, I do.”

“And it’s beyond these letters, right?”

“Yes.” He has no doubt about it, even if he has the strange feeling that he held some doubts about it, but not now, not any longer.

“Then you’ve nothing to worry about. Look, you two have a date. It’s a date,” Sero teases him. “No matter how you two stubborn asses refuse to call it as such, it’s still a date, so go on, have your date, and if you want a Bakugou letter… then ask him to write you one. I bet he’ll send you to hell, grunting he doesn’t do such things, and then he’s going to spend the whole evening crafting one, over and over until it’s perfect before he slams it against your chest and pretends he hasn’t poured that much effort on it.”

Shouto can’t help but smile as that definitely sounds like something Bakugou would do.

“You’re right.”

“Yeah, ‘course I am. Better yet, why don’t you write him a letter yourself?”

A déjà vu sensation hits him, and as he blinks and stares at Sero, he just knows that at some point, he and Sero must have had this conversation, and he just knows it even if he has no recollection of it.

When Sero leaves, he does it, warning Shouto to not touch the letters, to let them fade away, and to only open the box if, for some reason, he starts to feel sick or something. “Only if this inoffensive quirk turns out to be a bad one, alright?”

“Okay,” he had agreed, but now… now he can’t help but keep his mind trapped inside the box, along with the remaining letters, while his fingers tingle as he really wants to open it and read them all over. He wants to read Bakugou’s sweet words and—

He leaves the room and heads downstairs, one floor down to be precise. Knocking on the door, he waits while fidgeting on the spot.

Bakugou opens the door, yanking it with a deep frown while metal music blasts from his neck, a pair of headphones hanging there while his hair looks kind of plastered, almost as if he had just been lying on his bed, doing nothing from the lack of open books and notebooks scattered anywhere.

“Can I come in?”

Bakugou turns the music off and observes him, inquisitive eyes filled with curiosity and worry, and Shouto hates that last one, because he knows lately he’s only been a source of concern to his friends.

“Sure, come in but don’t fucking touch anything and don’t—” Shouto plummets on his bed as Bakugou closes the door and dryly says, “don’t take my bed. Fucker. Tsk. Move over.”

Shouto does, and Bakugou sits right next to him, crossing his legs and observing him, waiting, with a brow raised. His whole face seems to be saying ‘so?’ but Shouto isn’t sure of what to say, so he closes his eyes and hums, blindly hitting the button on Bakugou’s headphones, making the music blast once more in the otherwise silent room.

Bakugou huffs, annoyed, and turns the headphones off again, before he disconnects them and instead resumes the music directly from his speakers, making it echo across the walls, drowning the silence.

Shouto shoots him a tiny smile that makes the blond roll his eyes, but it doesn’t matter, because he has already done it, he has already had that gesture with Shouto, and that’s everything that matters. 

They simply sit next to each other, and Shouto must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knows, he’s lying on Bakugou’s bed, with a blanket thrown over him, and he’s all alone, with all the lights turned off. He yawns and sees, thanks to the bright red numbers on the clock, that it’s almost 20.

“Bakugou?” He knows the boy isn’t here, but he still calls for him, almost expecting him to come through the door, yelling at him to get out of his room and stop annoying him, but Bakugou doesn’t come. Sitting on the bed, with the blanket still draped over his shoulders, Shouto observes the room and smiles as this is the first time he’s here, all alone, unsupervised. 

Standing, he moves around, not touching anything, just looking around, imagining a future where his things are mixed among Bakugou’s, where they call each other by their first name and tease endlessly the other, where he can get as many hugs as he wants from Bakugou and even kisses. 

He feels himself warming up, so taking a deep breath, he easily composes himself before he keeps observing thanks to the dim light coming through the window, all the figurines and posters Bakugou has all over the shelves and desk as well as reading some of the books’ spines. He smiles as he wonders if maybe Bakugou would like to read some of his manga, if maybe he can convince him to join him and Sero in one of their manga evenings… or if maybe he can ask him to just the two of them reading them; yes, that sounds lovely.

He ends his tour, and as he sits back on Bakugou’s bed, he lies down and takes a deep whiff at the pillow, feeling his chest heating up as the sweet scent of burnt sugar smacks him with raw strength on his lungs. It’s addicting, and he loves it and wants to roll on it for the rest of his life and—

The door opens, and he stills while all the lights are turned on.

“Fucking finally. Although pity, here I was, thinking I was going to have the perfect chance to punch you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To wake you up, IcyHot, to wake you up. C’mon, move your lazy ass out of my bed and… what the fuck were you doing?”

Quickly sitting up, he pats the pillow and clears his throat. “I, uh… I was checking if your pillow is an ergonomic one, you know, one of those that when you lay on it it adapts to your body and then—”

“I fucking know what those are,” Bakugou cuts him sharply. 

Shouto nods and then sees what Bakugou is carrying. “That’s food.”

“Good to know you’ve a pair of functional eyes. I’m sure you must be real proud of them.”

Shouto blinks and nods. “Yes, on our last medical examination I got a perfect score on my sight. The doctor said I won’t be needing glasses anytime soon.”

“Gosh, you’re annoying,” Bakugou hisses. “Fucking eat before it gets cold, alright?”

“This… this is for me?” 

He glances at Bakugou, trying to see if maybe he has misunderstood him, but Bakugou refuses to look at him, and then he simply sits on the floor, offering Shouto his back while he picks up a random book and starts to read it. Shouto whispers a thank you that makes Bakugou grunt. Before the other boy can change his mind, he starts to eat.

It’s not soba, unfortunately, but it’s still really tasty, and as he starts to eat dish after dish, he realises it’s a really complete and balanced dinner with all the food groups included. He has some vegetables, some rice, some protein, fruit, and some sugary treat as a dessert. As he finishes munching it all, he thanks Bakugou once more before he moves back to the bed and laying down, he closes his eyes and yawns.

“What the?! Oi, what are you doing, bastard? Get your lazy ass upstairs, this is my bed, not yours.”

“I know, but I’m sleepy, and this is comfortable.”

Bakugou makes a strange sound before he curses him for a little bit more, and turning the lights off, he takes the tray and leaves the room.

Shouto’s heart starts to beat so hard he’s afraid he might be suffering a stroke, and he wonders for the first time what he is exactly doing. He knows he should leave Bakugou’s room before he comes back. He knows he should move upstairs to his room, use the balcony even, and pretend everything is alright, that they’re just two friends and that he was just not sniffing like a creep on Bakugou’s pillow and—

He does it again. He takes a deep breath at Bakugou’s pillow and sighs because, well, it just smells like Bakugou and that makes his chest go all warm.

Eventually, Bakugou returns, and Shouto stiffens, knowing he has to leave, knowing he can’t stay… but Bakugou doesn’t say anything, and when he lies next to Shouto and simply grunts at him to share the blanket, Shouto does automatically while he’s inwardly screaming because this is happening.

He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but he can’t because his heart and mind are doing weird things and—

“What do you wanna do on Christmas?”

The question catches him off guard, especially the way it’s been so softly said.

“I’m not sure.”

“Tsk. Weren’t you the one who asked me? I expected you to, like, have an idea of what you wanna do.”

“I don’t know, I just wanted to spend the day with you,” he blurts.

The silence that follows his words makes him realise what he has just confessed, and feeling his face warming harshly, he waits with impatience for Bakugou to say something, to do something, but Bakugou doesn’t. He just lies there. Disappointment settles on Shouto’s stomach because he’s sure he has surely messed up. He must have made Bakugou so uncomfortable the other boy doesn’t even know how to send him to hell and—

“Me too.”

The confession is so quiet Shouto wonders if he has heard it correctly, but the way he can feel Bakugou lying so, so still next to him tells him he has indeed just said that.

The happiness he feels asphyxiates him, and in a rush, he just proposes what he’s sure he saw in a movie, what the main couple did for Christmas. “We could walk around, just watching the lights, and then we could go to a karaoke? Have dinner there or something.”

“I don’t sing.”

“I can sing for you.”

Bakugou curses him and covers his face with an arm, mumbling something unintelligible before he spits, “Fine. Fucking whatever, I guess. We can do your dumb idea.”

He hugs him, and he’s not sure who’s more surprised by it, if Bakugou or himself.

He’s waiting in the entrance of the campus, rocking himself over his heels while he waits for Bakugou to come. According to his clock, there are still ten minutes until their official not-date begins. Because this isn’t a date no matter how much Sero teases him about it, it’s just him and Bakugou, two friends hanging out on Christmas Eve, a date usually for couples but hey, no one said friends can’t also hang and—

“Damn it, I wanted to be the first.” 

Glancing up, he sees Bakugou buried under a black scarf and wearing a giant dark green coat that reaches his knees. Shouto lights up as he knows Bakugou hates the cold, yet here he is, willing to do this for Shouto.

“It’s okay, you’re still early. It’s not even the time we agreed to meet. Should we wait until then or—”

“Dumbass, let’s just go. Tsk. Why the fuck would we wait for nine whole minutes in the stupid entrance?”

“We could talk.”

“We can talk while we walk.”

Nodding, he agrees with him. “That’s true.”

Bakugou sighs exasperated and kind of fondly before he starts to move and Shouto realises happily that he’s not walking ahead but instead next to him, without Shouto needing to catch up or slowing down. He even checks it at some points, doing so, and Bakugou always keeps up with him, shooting Shouto some annoyed glances, though that makes Shouto cease his little experiment.

“Do you want something hot? There’s a cafeteria nearby.”

“Sure. This fucking winter cold might kill me.”

“Is it really that cold?” Glancing up at the sky, he tilts his head as he observes the sun still visible through the clouds.

“Not everybody is a walking heater, halfie.”

Stepping closer, he opens his coat and turns his fire on, emanating warmth towards Bakugou. The boy leans instantly closer to him, and Shouto smiles softly while Bakugou scrunches his nose… but remains right where he is.

They hit a cafeteria, where he asks for a tea while Bakugou asks for some black coffee before he pours three packages of sugar on it.

“Why didn’t you ask for something sugary instead?”

“Tsk, I like black coffee.”

“…can that be called black coffee anymore?”

His question was genuine, but alas, Bakugou doesn’t take it as such, as he kicks him in the shins with a huff before he starts to march outside, towards the street.

They walk in silence, side by side, taking sips of their beverages while the sun sets down and all the lights get turned on. The streets seem to get really crowded with more couples that seem to be out with the same aim they have. Shouto marvels at the pretty lights, and Bakugou rolls his eyes and calls him out a couple of times, mocking his enthusiasm, comparing it with a little kid, but otherwise, he lets him do his thing, following him without any complaint even if, by now, they must have walked kilometres across the city, watching the same lights over and over. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Bakugou snorts and points at a street. “I think I saw a karaoke bar back there. You still want to go there or—?”

“Yes!”

When he enters the local, he’s not sure of what he was expecting, but this surely isn’t like in the movie he saw. This place isn’t as bright nor as big as the one from the film, but when the woman at the front desk guides them to their room after both pay the fare and leaves them there, all alone with a menu full of food, he starts to feel nervous out of the blue.

Bakugou doesn’t seem to be affected as he just reads the menu and mumbles under his breath what he wants. Shouto tries to imitate him, but he can barely read anything because, well, he’s all alone with Bakugou in a karaoke room during Christmas, and maybe Sero was right, maybe this is a date and all these feelings he’s been harbouring for Bakugou are starting to bloom like wildflowers, drowning him and is it just him, or does the room suddenly feel really hot?

Taking off his sweater, he’s thankful to be wearing a white shirt under it because he still feels hot and the material is really thin, so imagine if he was still wearing that thick sweater and—

“You doing alright, IcyHot?”

“It’s warm.”

“…you for real?”

“Yes?”

“…it’s winter.”

“The AC must be turned on too much.”

“Todoroki. You. Are. A. Living. Human. Heater. Just turn on your damn ice!”

Oh. He does, and it immediately feels better, but Bakugou is still looking at him with a weird expression, the same one he had when they woke up after that day they shared a bed in Bakugou’s room. Shouto woke up after Bakugou, and when he opened his eyes, he caught Bakugou looking at him with this same expression, even if it was only for a couple of seconds before Bakugou pretty much kicked him out of his room, calling him an airhead and a damn annoyance.

When the woman returns, Bakugou orders his food, and when it’s Shouto’s turn, he just says, “soba.” Which makes Bakugou sigh and roll his eyes, telling the woman to bring two of everything he has just asked for and Shouto’s soba.

“Are you that hungry? I’m sorry. I made you walk a lot and—”

“Shut up and sing,” Bakugou cuts him.

Shouto blinks as he sees Bakugou has just dropped a heavy folder on his lap. As he picks it, he sees it’s actually a list with all the songs the karaoke offers but he’s not sure of how this works because in the movie, the people just went into the karaoke then there was a cut and in the next scene they were all singing and eating so he has no idea of how does one get to the signing part and looking through the plastic pages of the folder doesn’t help him.

“Uh… Bakugou? How does karaoke work?”

Bakugou curses him but explains it in an efficient way, turning on the machine and everything with the remote and then helps him choose a song he’s vaguely familiar with. 

“Oh, so that’s how it works.”

“Yeah, now just follow the lyrics and sing to your heart’s content, I guess.”

Nodding, he starts to sing and well, it’s a little bit more complicated that he expected it to be because the lyrics are going faster and he doesn’t really know them, just vaguely but at least Bakugou is laughing, crying even, so that makes him happy because he did this, he’s making his friend have a nice time with him, and that’s good, right?

“Oh fuck’s sake. You sing so awful! I love it.”

“You do? I can sing another one,” he offers.

Something crosses Bakugou’s face before he nods, and picking another song Shouto believes he has heard before, he starts to sing. This time Bakugou doesn’t laugh, but he keeps his eyes on Shouto, and it makes him a little bit nervous, to the point he can’t focus on the lyrics and he just stops singing altogether. The music keeps going on until it ends, and before he can ask him anything, the woman comes in with their food, and Shouto realises Bakugou has asked for two of everything to share with Shouto, as he pushes half of his food towards him.

“Do you want some of my soba?”

“Damn. That’s almost like you offering your precious treasure to me. I feel honoured. Sure thing Halfie, let’s seize this once-in-a-lifetime chance.”

He frowns at that and, shaking his head, he says with honesty, “No, if you ever want some of my soba, you can always ask me, Bakugou. I’ll always be more than happy of sharing it if it’s you.”

Again, Bakugou’s face shows something that he can’t really read but leaves a warm feeling inside his chest. Bakugou hides his face and sags down the couch before he stuffs his mouth with some grilled peppers, and Shouto imitates him, eating some of the warmer food until he starts to crave his soba. Before he starts to eat, he picks some and gets to the bowl closer to Bakugou. He offers him the chopsticks full of noodles with a tiny smile.

Bakugou blinks, perplexed, before he opens his mouth, and as he finishes eating, Shouto wastes no more time before he dives into his soba, eating them too.

“Did you… were those your chopsticks?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, they’re.”

Bakugou’s face becomes a tad red, and he quickly downs a glass of water, leaving Shouto wondering why he just asked him that.

“Do you perhaps want more soba?”

“Nah, it’s uh, it’s fine.”

They keep eating, and once they’re done, they just sit there, in silence, with the sound of the muffled music coming from the other rooms filtering through the door or through the walls, who can really tell.

“Don’t you want to sing?”

“Oh? Not really, no. Do you want to sing?”

“I don’t sing.”

“I see.”

The silence keeps stretching, and Shouto plays with the plastic binder that has all the songs, flipping the pages as he reads all these weird and unknown songs.

“I can barely recognise these,” he mumbles.

Bakugou leans closer to him and reads the page. “Tsk, neither can I. Turn the page.”

They read all the songs, and in the end, Shouto doesn’t really know any song, but he does recognise almost eight, seven for sure, one he thinks so but he’s not too sure; Bakugou claims he knows three and recognises twenty-three.

“Well, out of the thousand songs offered, I believe we can say neither of us knows too much about music.”

“Tsk, that’s because these songs suck.”

“Right. You prefer metal, right?”

“Yeah, and rock too.”

“They do not have any of those here?”

Bakugou chuckles at that. “Nah, it’s uh, do you remember how the lyrics sounded?”

“Kind of like screaming— Oh, I see.”

“Yeah. So, not what ordinary people can sing… although I’d love to see you trying to sing one of those.”

“Give me the lyrics, and I can try. You have your phone here, right?”

Bakugou observes him with amusement before he nods and types something on his phone before he hands it to him.

“Ready? I’ll hit play now, and when I tap your shoulder, that’s when you’re supposed to start singing.”

Nodding, Shouto swallows and quickly scans the lyrics, trying to read ahead so he doesn’t make a huge mess like earlier. He wants to do a good job, wants to put on a good show for Bakugou because this is a song he likes and he wants to make him remember this moment.

Bakugou will surely remember this moment but not for the reasons Shouto expected or hoped for.

The singer is really screaming, and Shouto just sings the lyrics emotionlessly, reading them actually as he realises there’s no way he can do what the ‘singer’ does. Bakugou loses it and even falls from the couch, laughing so hard that tears fall down his face. Shouto only keeps going because at one point when he stopped, Bakugou begged him not to, so he does: he keeps reading the lyrics while Bakugou laughs, and as the last note of the song echoes in the room, almost ten seconds after Shouto stopped reading along the lyrics, he takes a deep breath and sits back on the couch.

“Okay, uh… fuck! Oh god, Todoroki, you… fuck, you’re so fucking funny.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

That makes him happy because on his search online, he has found out people usually want to date funny people, so he can only hope Bakugou does too. 

“I also think you’re funny. I like it when you make sarcastic comments.”

“Even if you need the keynotes from Sero?”

“Yes. With you, I actually don’t really need Sero’s help. I know when you mean things and when you don’t.”

Bakugou looks surprised for almost three seconds before he smirks and, cockily, sits better on the couch. “Oh yeah? Tell me more.”

“Alright. What do you want to know?”

“So you know when I mean shit and when I don’t?”

“Yes. You’re honest, and most of the time you’re just direct and tell things the way you mean them. That makes it easier for me. But when you use rhetorical figures, you usually roll your eyes or your voice drops a little bit, and you also sag one of your shoulders. I can easily tell then you’re being sarcastic. Like, you don’t actually think Kaminari was dropped on his head as a baby.”

Bakugou bites his lip to not chuckle before he clicks his tongue. “Nah, he has just short-circuited himself too many times.”

“He has,” he agrees. 

“But he’s useful to have around. I’ve never run out of battery ever since I’ve had him around.”

Shouto smiles because he can see in Bakugou’s eyes that he loves Kaminari beyond that shallow reason, and Bakugou is actually one of the few people he barely uses Kaminari as a living charger. Actually, their friend has praised several times how whenever he hangs with either Bakugou or Shouto, he doesn’t have to worry about either of them asking him to recharge their phone.

“How is your internship going?” Bakugou asks him. “Is that fucking stinky old man of yours still trying to be good or…?”

Shouto snorts. “He is. He’s still far away from the father of the year award, but he’s good. I think. But…”

“But?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Really? Thought you couldn’t do that, that it was like, I don’t know, against the core principle of lacking a brain.”

“I’ve one.”

“Don’t show it to me, pretty boy, keep it inside your skull.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Bakugou chokes and starts to cough, and Shouto is too flustered, smiling like a fool as he realises that Bakugou’s lack of denial means he did mean it.

“I think you’re beautiful too, Bakugou,” he says at the same time Bakugou finally roars, “NO!”

Shouto’s face falls. “Oh. I… Well, I do think you’re beautiful. Sorry.”

Glancing down at the table, he plays with the edge, pressing the pad of his finger while Bakugou curses next to him. He feels weird because he thought… he thought Bakugou actually thought he’s good looking, but of course, who would like someone whose face is disfigured like his and—

“I think you’re pretty.”

It comes muffled and so shakily and quiet it takes him almost two seconds to process it, and as he glances at Bakugou, he sees him with his face hidden behind his hand, but he can see through his fingers that his whole face and ears look red.

“Really?” he whispers with hope. “You really think so? You don’t think my scar is ugly or—”

At the mention of his scar, Bakugou moves his hand away, and his eyes harden as he curtly blurts, “No. Fuck that. Your scar is part of you, and I’ve never cared about that. Your eye actually pops out even more, and I’ve never thought less of your beauty because of it. It’s just part of you, just another thing that makes you be you.”

He can feel his vision watering and his eyes sting as this warm feeling inside of him keeps expanding. The words are just there, choking him and before he can hold them back, he just says them because he’s been keeping this secret for long enough and damn it, even if he’s afraid of messing their friendship now he knows Sero was kind of right: this is definitely like a date and Bakugou would never toss him aside just because he’s in love with him and they should really talk about this.

“I like you. As more than a friend, and I want this not-date to be one. I want to hold your hand, and I want to kiss you. Please,” he adds in the end as an afterthought.

Bakugou’s face turns even more red, and he gapes, eyes quickly moving all over Shouto’s face before he glances at the ceiling and curses really loudly. 

“You’re such a moron. Can’t believe I like such an idiot and goddamnit IcyHot, you’re lucky you’re so pretty because otherwise… This is a date you fucking half-assed bastard. No pair of friends hang in Christmas for fuck’s sake!”

He sounds exasperated and fond, and Shouto brightens up and tackles him in a hug that Bakugou easily reciprocates. Shouto melts between his arms, and closing his eyes, he remembers that night they first hugged like this, under the stars. He… he can’t exactly remember why, but he does recall he felt sad until Bakugou embraced it all away.

When they leave the karaoke, they keep walking around the city streets, this time holding hands, and Shouto feels giddy and so, so happy he feels like he's floating. He keeps smiling the whole way back to the dorms, and even if they take a huge detour, it still feels way too short, but alas, they kind of have a curfew, even if for today the teachers have been nice enough to stretch it to midnight.

“Well, just like Cinderella, here we’re.”

“Yes, we’re.”

Bakugou nods and both stop before the doors of their dorm building. They can see the party is still going on, and Bakugou clicks his tongue, tugging on their joint hands towards the back of the building. 

“C’mon, use your ice. My explosions would be too loud, and I don’t really want to—”

Shouto doesn’t need further explanations before he creates a block of ice that lifts them up to Bakugou’s balcony. As they step over the railing, both take their shoes off, and before he can ask Bakugou if he’s supposed to leave or what, Bakugou tugs him inside.

They get changed, both giving their back to the other, and Shouto feels warmer than ever as he ends up wearing a pair of sweats from Bakugou and a giant hoodie that smells like candy. Bakugou swallows when he turns around and observes him before pointing at the bed with his chin. Shouto goes there and lies, pressing his body against the wall like he did last time. 

Joining him, Bakugou turns off the lights and both just lie there, hearing the muffled sounds of the party coming from downstairs, the music and the laughter from their classmates.

Their hands somehow find each other, and Shouto smiles and hides his face under the sheets as Bakugou squeezes his hand, giving the butterflies inside of him a wild shake.

He’s almost asleep when he feels a feather-like touch on his cheek, and as he flutters his eyes open, he sees Bakugou right there, kissing his cheek.

“Bakugou?”

Without replying, Bakugou does it again, pressing his lips a little bit below to where he had first kissed Shouto. Breath hitching, Shouto stays still as he waits, heart pounding on his chest.

“Can I?” Bakugou whispers, and Shouto doesn’t need any clarification of what before he just closes his eyes and nods, waiting.

It’s soft, but it still sends a shiver running through his body, and it feels more powerful than anything he has ever experienced.

Bakugou’s lips press against his for almost five seconds, and Shouto wants more, so when Bakugou moves away, he chases him, slamming their mouths together in a painful way, making Bakugou grunt before he presses back, an arm sliding over Shouto’s waist, keeping him right there.

When they move a little bit away, he briefly opens his eyes before he sees Bakugou cocking his head to the side and diving back into it, making this time their lips meet better, making them fit better somehow. Actually, now that he thinks about it, in movies the actors always tilt their heads and if he’s not wrong, they part their lips… so he does it.

Bakugou’s lips taste like the food they’ve had and beneath all that, like coffee and then sweet like sugar. Maybe it’s his own flavour, or maybe it’s the three little packages of sugar he has poured before, still lingering in his mouth. Moaning, Shouto’s hands grip Bakugou tightly, pressing him closer because this feels better than great. This is the best thing that has ever happened to him, and he wants more.

“Move your lips,” Bakugou whispers. “Move them, Shouto.”

And Shouto does with another moan because he loves the way Bakugou has just said his name. He loves the way his name felt against his lips, and he wants to feel it again and again and again and again…

They keep kissing for what could be hours or minutes, who knows, who cares really. They go slow, still learning and a little bit unsure, but eventually both grow more comfortable and used to it, and Shouto decides he likes it when Bakugou nips his bottom lip and then licks it. He also likes the weight of Bakugou’s body over his and the way his hands tangle in his spiky, yet soft hair. He also loves the little grunts and moans the man does whenever he tugs softly on his hair and even loves it better when it’s him who ends up moaning from how good it feels.

At first, breathing is kind of complicated, but they get the hang of it and learn how to breathe and kiss at the same time, making their kisses become deeper and more substantial.

“Shouto… think we can move to French kissing?”

“I, uh… I only know English? I mean, beyond bonjour and a couple more words Aoyama has told me I don’t—”

“Fuck, you’re so dumb… I kind of love it. I’ll kill you if you tell anyone, tho.”

“Okay, yeah, I won’t.”

He soon learns French kissing involves tongues, like lots of it, but he likes it, and Bakugou goes slow on him. They explore each other’s mouths, and it feels good, like really, really good. He decides French kissing is good too.

“Bakugou—”

“Katsuki.”

“Katsuki.”

“Yeah?”

“I like this.”

Snorting, Katsuki kisses him softly on the lips, just a peck. “Yeah? I could tell. But we should probably go to sleep. It’s kind of late, like… shit, it’s almost two.”

“Really?”

Tilting his head back, he sees it is indeed beyond 2 am, almost a quarter past. Bakugou rolls away, but then he tucks Shouto against his side and sighs. Shouto closes his eyes and falls easily into the arms of Morpheus, feeling safe and satiated like he hasn’t felt ever before. 

He’s almost done packing his things when he opens the drawer and finds an empty box that contains two Post-it notes. One has an eight scrawled on it, and the other a six. He stares at both notes and feels weird, but he can’t, for the sake of his life, recall why or when he did these. Maybe it was some kind of game he played last year with Sero? A manga contest or…?

“Are you done?”

“No.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Katsuki kicks the door closed and barrels inside, grabbing an empty box and starting to empty the rest of the drawer.

“Thank you, love.”

“Tsk, you’re impossible.”

“You still love me.”

“Who said anything about love?” 

Shouto kisses his cheek and throws the post-it notes inside the box, making Katsuki take notice of the empty box.

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. I just found this inside my drawer.”

“Weirdo.”

“…yet you still love me.”

It earns him a kick in the butt, but Katsuki doesn’t deny it, which makes Shoto hug him tightly, pressing a loud kiss on the back of his neck before he moves to his desk. He’s packing his letter stationery materials when Katsuki wraps his arms around his waist.

“Why are you still writing letters to your mom? I mean, why not send her an email or call her?”

“I like letters. I think there’s something intimate in receiving and writing one, and it shows care. Wouldn’t you like it if I wrote you one?”

“Fuck no.”

“Oh.”

“…do you want to?”

Shouto preens at that, but then he becomes shy as he’s not sure if he should. Katsuki squeezes his waist and encourages him. “What? What is it?”

“I might have actually written you some already,” he confesses.

“You have?”

“Yes.” Opening another drawer on his desk, he pulls out an old notebook, and there they are, six neat envelopes with Katsuki’s name written over them. Two actually say Bakugou, and only the last three say Katsuki, while the one he wrote last night simply says Katsu with a tiny heart at the end.

Katsuki swallows and observes them. He doesn’t make fun of them, doesn’t show any hint of wanting to either. His face shows other emotions though, a wide range of them and Shouto knows Katsuki finally starts to understand why Shouto writes letters to his mom. Offering them to him, he kisses his cheek and mumbles he’s going to start moving the boxes downstairs, toward Katsuki’s room, giving him some privacy to read them and also because he doesn’t really feel ready to see Katsuki reading his letters.

He doesn’t really need to move the boxes downstairs. Even if all their stuff is going to be sent to their new shared apartment, they can keep their stuff in both of their rooms, and U.A. will still send it to the same address, but he guesses the excuse is as good as any.

As he sits on Katsuki’s bare bed, he lies down and observes the ceiling, wondering what Katsuki must be doing in his room, wondering if he’s reading his letters and if he thinks they’re too sappy (probably), if he likes them or if he hates them. He hopes Katsuki doesn’t mind them, because Shouto would like to keep writing him more letters, even if from now on, they’re going to be living together… for the rest of their lives, he hopes.

He counts up to a thousand, and after that, he guesses it’s time to head upstairs, so he does, but on his way out, he meets Kirishima, who smiles widely at him.

“Todoroki! Is Bakugou inside?”

“No, he’s in my room, helping me pack.”

“Oh, that’s so manly. I wish Mina would help me pack too… but I actually think I should be the one who helps her. She has a lot of stuff.”

“Then do so.”

“Yeah? I mean, it’s still the girls’ wing so…”

“But she’s your girlfriend, isn’t she? And if she gives you permission and Uraraka doesn’t mind having you around, I don’t see why you can’t.”

Kirishima beams at that and, nodding, he heads towards the elevator. “Good idea! Thanks, Todo, and say hello to Baku for me, alright?”

As Kirishima takes the elevator, Shouto takes the stairs, as he guesses he’ll make it upstairs sooner than if he waits for the elevator to come up again. 

When he reaches his door, he knocks, giving Katsuki some time to do whatever he needs to do, and when he hears a grunted, “Come in, you dumbass. It’s your room,” he does.

“Kirishima sends his regards. Well, he literally told me to say hello to you. So here: hello.”

Katsuki smiles and tries to hide it when a roll of his eyes before he pulls Shouto in a hug, a tight one. “You… you’re so freaking ridiculous.”

Shouto hums and hugs him back, seeing all his letters seem to have been opened, so Katsuki has probably read them all. When he asks him quietly if he has hated them, Katsuki pulls him in a passionate kiss before he can even finish his question, so he guesses the answer is no, no, he hasn’t hated them, not one bit.

Five hours later, the whole class 3-A holds a toast in the living room, and between hugs and some tears, they all say goodbye. Shouto goes around, shaking hands and giving hugs to almost all his classmates. He gets a ton of invitations to hang out: Tokoyami simply asks him to save him from time to time from Hawks; then Iida, who invites him and Katsuki to have dinner next Saturday along with Midoriya, Uraraka, and Asui.

“I’d love to, we’ll be there.”

“Huh? Why the fuck do I have to go there as well?”

“Because I’m going… or do you want to eat dinner all alone?”

“OOOOOOH ROASTED!” Kaminari yells, and soon, all their friends join them, teasing Katsuki endlessly.

In the end, it’s only the seven of them standing on the side of the building, and Shouto feels an immense wave of sadness as he looks at his five best friends and his best-best friend… even if he knows he’s going to see them as soon as tomorrow, but still.

Ashido is the first one to start crying, and then Kaminari joins her, and no, never mind, Kirishima is actually the first one who started crying, but he did it silently. Shinsou is rolling his eyes, but Shouto can see his lip is actually quivering, and Sero’s smile is too wobbly as well. 

“I hate you all,” says Katsuki, but it comes too softly, and they all know what it actually means.

“GROUP HUG!” Kaminari yells, and Ashido echoes it, their arms already stretched.

The seven of them fuse in a giant hug, and this isn’t the first time they’ve done this, but this is different because this is the last time they are going to do this here, in the place that has been their home for the past three years.

“I want us all to promise that we’ll still hold our Friday wild nights.”

“You mean watching you lose sorely at Mario Kart?” Shinsou pipes. “Sure, count me in.”

“Me too,” agrees Katsuki, high-fiving him while Kaminari complains that he doesn’t lose… always.

Kirishima is still crying with Ashido and Sero trying to calm him down, and Shouto feels lost because yeah, he and Bakugou are going to be living together and technically speaking Kirishima is only going to be a couple of blocks away from them and Sero not even six down… but it’s still blocks not just meters and—

“Roki?”

Sero tackles him in a hug, and Shouto realises he’s crying. 

“I don’t—”

“Shh, it’s okay. I got you, man.”

Holding Sero incredibly close, he cries, wetting his shirt while their friends start to pile over them, hugging him as well.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he whispers in the end.

Ashido cries harder and then smacks Katsuki. “Your boyfriend is ruining my make-up.”

“Fucking smack him then, not me!”

“It’s your fault!” she replies. “Bad boyfriend! You should be comforting him.”

“Tsk, it’s not me he needs right now, you dumbass. I’m literally going to be sleeping next to him for the rest of our lives, he ain’t gonna be missing me.”

There’s a couple of beats of silence before Katsuki curses loudly and then the endless teases begin. It makes Shouto laugh as Katsuki kicks Kaminari and Shinsou away, then explodes Kirishima’s face away as he starts to make kissy faces and laughs louder when Sero whispers into his ear, “you’ve got him so whipped dude… it’s hilarious.”

Yes, he’s going to miss his friends a lot.

It’s another Sunday, and as he sends his mom her weekly letter, Shouto walks back to his apartment, curiously looking around this new path he knows he’s going to be walking down for many, many years. This is the first Sunday of a million (he hopes) that he’s going to travel back and forth from his new apartment to the mailbox. As he enters their new home, he smiles as he sees the empty boxes piled on the side of the entrance. There were only three when he left, and now there are five.

“He surely likes to get the job done,” he whispers as he kicks his shoes off and starts to make his way down the hall, seeking where Katsuki might be, but he stops, right on his tracks, as he sees the envelope waiting for him on their dining table.

Todoroki

Looking around, he almost expects Katsuki to come from somewhere, but when he sees his man isn’t going to, he gently picks it up and, sitting on the couch, he opens the envelope, feeling a strange déjà vu sensation, but that can’t be, right? But somehow, he has like the vague sensation he used to read letters on Sundays, right after he sent his mom hers… 

“Weird,” he whispers before he pulls out the letter. 

Todoroki,

This is weird. But I wanted to give it a try, so here I am, although I’m still not sure of this.

You’ve told me you just write what you’ve done during the week, but we’ve been together pretty much the whole week, so I don’t really see the point of retelling you that. Instead, let me tell you about something else, such as how my debut as a professional hero has made me feel and how seeing your own debut has also made me feel. If I had to describe it shortly, I would say happy and proud because I’m proud of us and we both looked so kick-ass out there…

Epilogue

He’s finishing writing his report when Midoriya comes crashing through the window, sending a huge air wave and making some of his papers fly, not too many thankfully, because between him and Hanta, Shouto is already too used to having papers flying all around, so he has taken measures, aka rocks that weigh and keep them down.

“Midoriya, it’s really late. Shouldn’t you be back home?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, but I saw the light in yours and Kacchan’s office and I decided to swing by.”

“That’s more Hanta’s thing,” he replies, amused.

Midoriya snorts. “Uh yeah, don’t tell him that. He might tape me to the ceiling.”

“Oh? Still traumatised by that?” he teases him.

Midoriya makes a face, and Shouto laughs as he recalls how almost twelve years ago, back when they were still in their twenties, they threw a party and someone (Denki) thought it would be a good idea if Hanta taped them to the ceiling. Midoriya was one of the ‘lucky’ ones, and it seems he’s still not over it. Of course, Hanta’s tape can be extremely sticky and even more so when he’s drunk and not really in control of how ‘sticky’ it can be.

“So I take you haven’t waxed since—”

“TODOROKI!”

“It’s Bakugou,” he replies, amused. “It’s been almost three years, you should already be used to it.”

Midoriya flips him off, making him raise a brow and examine it before he writes a three on a post-it and shows it to him.

“What’s that?”

“My grade to your bird. It’s a three out of ten. You should ask Katsu to give you a masterclass. He can do them even while he’s asleep.”

“I could never be as proficient as Kacchan when it comes to sending people to hell.”

“No, I bet you can only dream of it,” he agrees.

He can see Midoriya wants to say something, but today, he’s feeling a little bit mean, so he pretends he hasn’t noticed and, picking up the couple of papers that have actually flown from his desk, he keeps filling his report before Midoriya huffs and sits on one of the chairs he has on his desk.

“Shouto?”

“Yes?”

“…do you remember how once you told me something? I mean, you were actually telling Sero, but I was also there, and in the end, you told me too. You were a little bit drunk, and I didn’t really think too much about it but—”

“Izuku.” He sighs, amused because, even these days, Midoriya gets lost rambling and he needs a little push to get back on track.

“You once said you had had an experience with a time-travel quirk.” 

Shouto stills at that, and as he tries to remember exactly when he shared that bit of information with Midoriya, he recalls how the man had just mentioned he was a little bit drunk.

“I did?” he plays the dumb card.

“Yes. You said back when you were a teenager, you had received some letters from the future, from Kacchan, and that you had forgotten about all that but that as Kacchan was actually been giving them to you, your memories were slowly coming back to you and Sero said that now that you had mentioned it, he was also recalling it, something about you two talking about it and you even showing him the letters...”

Biting his lip, Shouto studies Midoriya’s face, only to find his friend with a giant grin on his face.

“Why are you—?”

“I’ve found her.”

“Her?”

“Yes. It’s a student from Shinketsu. Yoarashi introduced her to me. She’s in the support class there, and her quirk Shouto…”

“Inasa introduced her to you?”

“Yes, she actually wanted to meet Mei, but you know her, Yoarashi knows she likes to… blow up her lab every three out of two days, so he thought it would be better if I met her first.”

“Oh yeah, your insurance policy still goes like crazy thanks to Hatsume, right?”

Midoriya’s forehead hits the table as he dryly says, “Please, stop torturing me. I’ve ordered Mei to create a fire-proof lab for her. I’ve even strictly ordered her to make it bomb-proof, to make a literal shelter, and she… she… she still blows it up! Not even Kacchan is that destructive.”

Shouto kicks him softly and raises a brow. “That’s my husband you’ve just insulted. Comparing him with Hatsume, tsk, tsk, tsk. Katsu is way less destructive. He wishes he could be like her.”

They stare at each other for a couple of seconds before both laugh. “Shh, Kacchan is going to tear us a new one, Todoroki-kun.”

“Oh please, he knows better than to do that. So, Inasa has introduced you to one of his students… but why is this support girl, future destroyer of your budget, so relevant to be in my office at almost… midnight?”

“Because of her quirk, Todoroki! Because of her quirk. C’mon, ask me what it is.”

Rolling his eyes, he spins his pen over his fingers and parrots, “What is her quirk, Midoriya?”

Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, Midoriya shifts on his chair, and holding his head over his hand, he says, “Oh well, since you asked me so nicely, Bakugou-kun… yeah, no, I still can’t, sorry.”

“It’s okay, I really don’t mind if it’s you.”

Midoriya nods at that, and with shining eyes, he keeps going. “Well, as I was saying, I know about those letters of yours and, knowing you, I also know you’ve kept them all because you would never throw away anything Kacchan gifts you… including those awful cat slippers he totally mock-gifted you.”

“It was a present.”

“They’re horrendous, Todoroki, and everybody agrees. He only gifted them to you because Shinsou dared him to after Kaminari said not even you would wear them… and you do.”

The way he says it, with a little shiver makes it look almost as if it was a crime and Shouto frowns because okay, the cat looks bad, it’s printed wrongly and the yellow eyes might make it look almost as if it had the rabies but it’s still a cat and a gift Katsu gave him so, what else is he supposed to do with it? Throw it away? No way.

“She can send things in the past,” Midoriya says, cutting off all his thoughts in the span of a second.

“Come again?” he sputters.

Grining, Midoriya hums. “At last! Finally, I’ve got your whole attention, huh?”

“You do. My undivided and complete attention.”

“Well… say, Todoroki-kun, would you like to meet her?”

“I would. I would like a lot to meet this girl of yours.”

Snorting, Midoriya winks. “I knew you would appreciate my visit in the end.”

Picking up his phone, he dials his husband’s office… even if it’s next door. “Yeah?”

“Love, remember that thing I told you about your letters and how you literally told me, ‘go home, you’re drunk’ and then forbid me from watching more ‘weird videos on the net at 3 am’?”

“…fuck’s sake, that was years ago! And I told you I do believe you… especially after Tape Face— Why?”

Grinning at Midoriya, he points at the phone.

“Kacchan!”

“Fucking nerd! Don’t you have someone else to pester? Why the fuck don’t you go to Four Eyes’ or Moon cheeks’?”

“Be nice, Kacchan, because I’ve just solved your sci-fi mystery, well, Todoroki-kun’s.”

“It’s Bakugou, you jerk! Three years and you still call him that. I really hate you, you nerd, and you make it so easy and— Wait… what?”

Both smile at each other, and he starts to dial Hanta on his mobile phone because, apart from Katsuki, his best friend also deserves to know the whole story, and while Midoriya and Katsuki banter on the phone, before Katsuki simply makes his way inside his office, yelling and stomping, still wearing half of his hero costume, Hanta picks up the phone.

“Roki?”

“Hey Han, guess who has just won some money?”

“Me?” His friend says with a hint of hope.

Shouto laughs because he knows Hanta has no idea what bet he’s talking about since they have over twenty currently going on. “Yep. I owe you a dinner: Midoriya has just found a girl with a time travel quirk or something. He was just going to explain it to us.”

“Holy shit! The letters.”

Katsuki pinches his nose before he screams, “Just how many people fucking know about this? And it ain’t love letters!”

This time, both Hanta and Midoriya talk at the same time. “Who said anything about love letters?”

Laughing, Shouto watches his husband turn red before Midoriya starts to explain how his newest intern’s quirk works, with Hanta making a ton of questions. Shouto doesn’t, because glancing at Katsuki, he just knows the how doesn’t really matter because everything is going to be alright. He got Katsuki after all, the rest is just history.

[fin.]