Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"It's so hot," Dunce Face whines the fucking obvious, or maybe Kirishima. Katsuki can't really tell, head thrown back on the couch and eyes shut. And, really, it's for the sake of everyone that he's been in this position for, like, the past fucking hour, or else he would've blasted everyone's dumb face off. Maybe grabbed them by the neck and flailed them around until their body dropped.

But it's not like Katsuki wants to do that. Y'know. Like, if Kaminari whines one more fuckin' time, then yeah, maybe. If he shuts his damn mouth, then he won't.

Sure, he would've obliterated the floor with them and used them as rags in their first year, when everything was shit, but—But not now. Now, he's on the couch. Eyes shut. Arms folded behind his head.

And he has no damn clue how he's lasted this long without exploding shit up because his quirk is going absolutely batshit crazy, shirt clinging to his skin, the fabric sticking to every dip and crevice of his body, and—

It's too fucking hot. It's too hot.

"You guys sure the air conditioner's on?" There's a loud hiss of the cushion deflating, and he opens his eyes barely enough to see Sero slump on the single couch, fanning his face with his hand like that's gonna do a fucking thing.

"It is; I checked." Kirishima wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt. Then he starts flapping it aggressively like there's any fucking chill that could ride up there and cool the exposed skin. Greedy-ass fucker tryna steal all the ventilation. "Like, for the seventh time."

Shut up. Shut the hell up.

He can't handle any more complaints, but it's not like he can just go upstairs to his room; this shitty-ass academy has even shittier air conditioners in their separate rooms.

Like, what the fuck?

Katsuki's about to open his mouth and promise he'll smack them back to where they came from if they make so much as a peep, when the sound of footsteps enter the doorway, trailing to the kitchen.

"Todoroki, how are you not sweating, man?" Kirishima gawks as he sits up, and Katsuki peeks to find Todoroki in a cotton shirt with sleeves a little too long, pouring cold water into a cup, hair neat and rid of sweat. 

This motherfucker.

Of course, he's chilling like the sun doesn't exist. Fuck him and his quirk.

"Why would I be?" He lifts the now full cup and walks over to them, and—And this guy has to be fucking with them. Has to be, with the way he's as dense as a brick and as conceited as a prick. "Is something wrong?"

Katsuki swears he feels a vein pop. And—And everyone's defeatedly watching the couch sink as the fucking asshole sits on his left like there's no other damn seat.

Wrong?

I'll show you what's fucking wrong when I smack you off the fucking couch and blast you six feet under, you dipshit.

"'Cause it's fuckin' hot, dumbass." Katsuki's brows furrow with a huff, forehead glistening with sweat as he wipes it with the back of his hand. Which doesn't do shit because his hands are already damn wet from his overwhelmed quirk. "Dunno how you forgot not all of us are a fuckin' walkin' freezer."

Todoroki tears his gaze away from Sero and to him, like he just noticed Katsuki's here. Even though he literally decided to join him on the couch. "Oh."

And that—Well, that makes Katsuki more pissed off, as if it's fucking possible. Lights something inside him, the scorch different than the burn of the summer heat, in a way.

"You know what would really help right now?" Tape Face starts, getting everyone's attention, but his eyes are on Halfie. "Ice cream."

Dunce Face sits up so fucking fast he probably got whiplash (like goddamn, how the hell did his neck not break?), but then he melts back onto Kirishima just as quickly, groaning. "That's a good idea, but I'm not going out there, bro."

"Yeah, it's too hot." Kirishima gently pushes him off with a soft glare, which is too kind because if that was Katsuki, he'd have smacked him seven ways to Sunday. "Way too hot."

"Get Halfie to do it," He mutters, mindlessly wiping his clammy hands across his pants, careful not to create too much friction.

Seriously, it's a genius idea. If the fucker's acting like there's a breeze blowing in the air, then he might as well be the one to fetch their solution for the heat stroke they're having.

He hears Todoroki hum beside him, either agreeing or considering—doesn't matter, 'cause Katsuki wasn't offering anyway.

Maybe if he just—Just stays still for another two hours, it won't be so shitty. It's gotta get better when it reaches sunset, right? The sun's gotta hop off their dicks at some fucking point, right?

Right?

Fucking hell.

Katsuki throws his head back, a little noise as it makes contact with the backrest. Maybe it shook the couch because he sees Todoroki glance at him from the corner of his eye.

Whatever.

No one fucking told him to sit here. If he's annoyed, he can go sit his ass somewhere else.

(Katsuki's sure stupid Tape Face would volunteer to be Todoroki's chair, no fuckin' doubt.)

He flutters his eyes shut.

And then—Then he feels it.

A chill.

At first, he thinks his ass is so fucking desperate it started hallucinating, like when bitches stranded in the desert start imagining water, but—

But the chill grows. At first, it's real faint, hovering over him, as if it's scared to touch. Then it grows, kisses his hot skin, starting to dry the glistening layer of sweat on his biceps and along his forearms. Slips under his shirt, where the end of the fabric's ruffled, and envelops his chest.

Holy shit.

Holy shit, finally.

Someone opened a damn window.

Actually, that's gotta be an air conditioner, 'cause there's no fucking way there's a breeze outside.

So, it's an air conditioner.

But the air conditioner's so fucking shitty here.

Wait.

He opens his eyes. Glances at Todoroki, who he swears was not that fucking close a second ago.

Is he—

Shit.

The bastard definitely knows Katsuki's looking at him. He's gotta fucking know, but he continues to sip from his cup, not even batting an eye at him, and it makes it—Irritating.

Yeah. Irritating's the word.

The brief shock wearing off, the small discomfort in his chest.

Irritation.

"Todoroki, we'd never force you to go out in the heat, man." Kirishima starts again, maybe after contemplating an idea. "But it would be really manly if you did."

"You want me to get ice cream?" He parts from the cup, confusion almost seeping into his tone as Katsuki continues to watch him. And Halfie's gotta fucking know, because he increases the cool sensation, makes something turn in Katsuki's stomach.

Shit.

This feels so fucking good, holy shit, what the fuck, what the fuck?

What the hell do you think you're doing?

(But also don't fucking stop or I'll twist your head off.)

Honestly, he's not fucking sure what made Halfie become his personal air conditioner, and he should be at least a little fuckin' pissed off that the bastard thinks he needs his pity (first-year Katsuki would've been fuming right now), but shit, desperate times call for desperate measures, and in this case, fuck yeah, it's letting Halfie cool him.

Katsuki's not fuckin' dumb. One complaint and the fucker will stop the breeze, and boom, he's back to square one: pathetically melting into a fucking puddle.

So. He shuts his mouth, leans back, and relishes that shit.

"Yeah, dude. There's, like, a little corner store nearby and we can get permission," Kirishima smiles. "It's just better, cuz, well, your quirk."

Halfie pauses, gears turning in his shitty brain. "Okay. Sure, I can do that."

"Oh my god, Todoroki," Kaminari yells, punching the air, almost scaring half of the fucking group to death. "Thank you so much, man, thank you."

As if his excitement wasn't clear enough by the wave of electricity that surges through his hair, Dunce Face rushes off Kirishima and to Halfie. Katsuki watches him get on his knees with clasped hands in a prayer position.

No, seriously. He's on the damn floor.

"Thank you so much." He aggressively bows his head, completely folding onto himself and—okay, this is getting ridiculous.

"Get the fuck up," Katsuki grimaces, second-hand embarrassment clear on his face. "Why the hell are you actin' like he's God or some shit?" 

(Yeah, Todoroki's cooling him, but that doesn't mean shit. Is Katsuki gonna get on his knees? Fuck, no.)

Kaminari snaps his head up, looking extremely offended. "Bakugou, you should be more grateful. He's getting us ice cream, isn't he?"

"Ice cream?" A shout comes from the stairs as Deku and Uraraka emerge from fuck-knows-where.

"Who's getting ice cream?" She asks, all wide-eyed and shit.

Deku side-eyes Kaminari (who's still goddamn kneeling in front of Halfie) so fucking hard that Katsuki almost bursts out laughing. "Can we have some, too?"

"Yeah, we should probably write this down." Sero stands from the couch and kinda looks around like there's gonna be anything to write with in the common room or kitchen. Idiot. "Shit, no pen and paper. I'll just text you the list, okay, Roki?"

Halfie nods, and while everyone is sorting out what flavours they want, Katsuki's realizing that Tape Face has Todoroki's number. And they text. Hell, Kirishima, Kaminari, and fuckin' Deku probably have his number, too.

And it's not like—It's not like he had no fuckin' clue, because, obviously, after what all of them have been through together, they've gotta have each other's numbers and shit.

So. So, yeah, Katsuki already knows that. In the back of his brain, not so frontward, like it's something he sat down and thought about, and, well, he's had Halfie's number at some point, too.

Obviously.

Just—He doesn't have it now. Used to, but not now.

"Bakugou, what flavour do you want?" Kirishima's voice brings him back to the room when he didn't really think his brain left it that much. But he's back now anyway, and everyone's—Everyone's fucking staring at him.

(Not Todoroki. Todoroki hasn't glanced at him once.)

He's about to throw an insult and refuse the offer, but it dies halfway, nerves reminding him he's a furnace on the inside. (He's pretty fucking sure he won't have a drop of saliva left in his mouth in, like, thirty damn minutes.)

"Anythin'; I don't care."

Sero nods and types it down, fingers hurriedly tapping at his screen. "Alright, I sent you everything, Roki." 

"Bro, wait, we need money," Kaminari groans, and suddenly they're all reaching into their pockets, Uraraka pulling out lint without a doubt.

"It's fine," Halfie sets down his cup on the table, "I'll use Endeavor's card."

Katsuki watches him get off the couch, the heat slapping him in the fucking face like a bitch.

Fuck.

That's right.

His personal air conditioner is leaving to get ice cream, which means he's going to be left alone. Left to die. Left to get absolutely, atrociously murdered by the summer sun and his own traitorous quirk, and these fuckers moaning and groaning every second, and—

Yeah, hell no.

"I'll go with you," He quickly says, accidentally too eagerly from the weirded-out look Todoroki gives him. (The bastard for real turns his whole fuckin' head, and—And that doesn't seem like much, but Katsuki fucking knows him.)

"Huh?" Dunce Face slowly scratches his face, speaking for all the surprised dimwits staring. "Didn't you say to send him because it's too hot?"

Katsuki frowns. Musters a glare. "Shut up, the hell does it gotta do with you?"

Todoroki's brows raise for a moment. He wants to smear the reaction off. Matter of fact, punch him and fuck up his face, since he wants to look at Katsuki now.

(Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. It doesn't.)

And he's pretty sure he's sending the warning with his glare and everything, but Halfie's a prick, so of course he decides to continue to get on his damn nerves by saying, "Then let's go, Bakugou."

Katsuki huffs. Watches him make his way out. "Don't tell me what to fuckin' do, Halfie."

He follows anyway, ignoring his classmates bidding them goodbye.

"The fuck are you walkin' so damn fast for?" He yells at the asshole who's way ahead of him, fucker basically speed walking like they're on a goddamn mission.

"Fast?" Todoroki looks over his shoulder, but continues to walk. Katsuki feels his eye twitch. "I'm not, though."

"You're not, my ass." He didn't leave the dorms to go running in this fucking weather. Sure, any other fucking day and he'd start running batshit crazy and beat the bastard at this race they never planned, but it's so damn hot and he can't do this. Can't do this with the son of a bitch lighting up the sky, making his quirk go crazy. Sweat pooling between his inner elbows, slowly dripping down his muscles. "Practically six hundred seventy kilometres away."

At that, the dipshit stops basically sprinting, rubber grinding against asphalt.

"I didn't think you wanted to walk together." He explains when Katsuki reaches him, walking side by side.

"We're not. Walk behind me."

He doesn't, but a cool sensation starts to spread in the air. Kisses his scalding skin, and drifts into the opening of his shirt, enveloping him whole.

Katsuki looks at him, but the asshole's staring ahead instead. Acting so casual. Unbothered. It makes little things in his stomach. 

Bastard.

Even when the heat is gone, his tongue feels dry.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. Looks down at their steps. They're in sync. "The hell do you keep doin' that for?"

"Doing what?" Halfie turns his head.

Does he really not know?

Is this so casual?

"That shit." Katsuki motions at the space between them, attempting to explain without actually saying the words, "Why do you keep makin' sure I'm not gonna have a fuckin' heat stroke?"

He shrugs. "You're a fire hazard."

Then he shifts his attention to the street again. Conversation over. Answer simple.

So. It's out of fear. Out of concern. He's cooling Katsuki because he might sweat too much and blow them up. He's cooling Katsuki because it's dangerous.

(Inside him, the burn stays. Lingers.)

"So that's it, yeah?" He starts, voice slightly increasing in volume. "Scared I'm gonna make an explosion, Halfie? Maybe I should blast that dumb face of yours."

Todoroki doesn't even glance at him. He doesn't even glance at him. "Wouldn't be the first time."

♡ ♡ ♡

"Did we get all the ice cream?"

Todoroki scrolls through the text message, lips slightly parted. "I think so."

"Good. Pick one." He orders, sliding the freezer open again. The chill is so, so good (but not nearly as good as his personal air conditioner).

The hand he's waiting for doesn't reach in to grab an ice cream, so he turns to look at Todoroki. "Hey, Halfie, you gonna pick one today?"

He slips his phone away, glancing at Katsuki before tilting his head at the ice cream. "I'm not sure what to choose."

"It's ice cream." He sort of exasperates, vaguely pointing at the freezer with one hand while the other holds its door open. "Strawberry, vanilla, chocolate. Just pick one."

A soft frown takes over his mouth. "What do you recommend?"

Recommend?

What is this, a damn five star restaurant? Katsuki's about to ask why he's acting like he's never had ice cream bef—

Oh.

Right. Okay. 

He swallows. Shuts the freezer door, since this is gonna take longer than expected.

And it's not like—It's not like there's a shit-ton of options in front of them. It's just, well, he can barely pick a fuckin' treat for himself since he usually prefers salty and spicy shit over dessert, and now—Now he has two to choose for.

"I think," He starts, eyeing a thin, pink, square-shaped plastic container of ice cream, "I'm gonna get strawberry."

"Me, too." He nods seriously, reaching for the same pile.

"No," Katsuki grabs it, so fucking cold and good against his palm, the best and most important part of his body to cool right now. "Get another flavour."

Halfie stops, arm midair. "Why?"

"Don't copy me and find one on your own." He grits out, dropping the ice cream in the small shopping basket on his shoulder. "Plus, if you end up hatin' it, you'll fuckin' blame me for ruinin' your first try, and I don't want none of that shit."

Todoroki lightly puffs his cheeks before exhaling (it makes Katsuki sort of, kind of, want to punch the soft flesh but with his index finger instead of his fist, and gently instead of aggressively), the somewhat exasperated sigh coming out foggy from his quirk, as if they're in the dead of winter. "But I won't."

"I said get your own, Halfie." He half-heartedly rolls his eyes, 'cause this guy's real stubborn, before going ahead to the cash register.

He hears him huff like a damn kid from the freezer aisle he's abandoned in, but the blond continues to pass the cold treats to the cashier. (He thinks Halfie probably didn't even act like this when he was an actual child. Maybe Katsuki indulges him too much. And maybe it's not a problem.)

Realizing their payment method is with the dumbass who's still having a silent crisis at the back of the store, he turns from the cashier to shout, almost stuffing his face full of Todoroki.

Now he's about to yell for a completely different reason, but Todoroki quickly pulls out Endeavor's card and starts cooling the air again. Perfect method to shut the blond up.

"I chose this," He says, a hint of pride in his voice as he hands the cashier a green-ish blue ice cream to scan.

"Mint chocolate? Outta everythin'?" Katsuki raises a brow, a teasing grin on his face. "Maybe I should've picked for you, after all."

He's never tasted mint chocolate ice cream in his life. Hell, he has nothing against it, but bothering Halfie is fun.

And when he's met with two heterochromatic eyes softly glaring at him, Katsuki decides yes, teasing Halfie is fuckin' fun. Satisfactory. Rewarding. Another word on the tip of his tongue.

"Well, it seems less boring than strawberry ice cream." Todoroki takes the bag of treats they're given.

"Yeah?" Katsuki smiles. (Doesn't mean to; Halfie getting defensive over his first choice of ice cream is definitely not cute.) They walk out of the store, a ding of the automatic doors, and the heat doesn't really hit him this much now that he has his own air conditioner.

So good.

So fucking good.

Todoroki hands him his strawberry ice cream, only to quickly reach in the bag again to take out his own.

"Not gonna wait until we get there?" He asks, turning the container in his hand. Presses the rim against his fingertips, cool to the touch. "You're that impatient?"

Todoroki hums absent-mindedly, working his ice cream package open. The grocery bag slides down his forearm, deciding to rest in between the curves of the muscles there.

Katsuki watches the scene, the way he practically bats his long-ass lashes like he's got a fuckin' crush when the plastic tears to show mint chocolate ice cream. It takes a second for him to realize he's supposed to hold it from the popsicle stick, but when it clicks in his shitty brain, he holds it like a precious thing.

Their eyes almost meet, but Katsuki quickly looks away. He'd rather burn Deku's All Might merch and get fucking murdered than let the clueless, puppy-eyed dumbass next to him catch him lacking.

Fuck that shit.

"We gotta go, Halfie." He coughs, eyes trailing down to the ground. His brain won't let them look up, convinced they won't be able to look away. "Can't stay here."

"But I want to sit," Todoroki says, not so flatly, not so monotonously, a mix of eagerness and disappointment grasping the tone just a bit.

"What 'bout their ice cream? They'll fuckin' melt."

"They won't," He simply says, and just like that, a loud sound pierces the air as he effortlessly freezes the bag.

Just how stubborn is this guy?

Katsuki wants to tell him there's literally no difference if they eat while walking. But with that glint in those bright coloured eyes, and the plead behind the action, he can't say no.

Why are you buying us more time?

Why?

"Sly bastard." He mutters instead, sitting down on a shaded edge of the curb. Todoroki follows quickly, making sure to sit on his left.

"Thanks."

He can hear the smile in his voice. He hears it. He wants to see it. But he can't bring himself to look up. So, Katsuki focuses on opening his own to reveal bright, beautiful strawberry heaven with a small disposable wooden spoon.

"Yours looks different," Halfie states the fucking obvious, tilting his head at the blond's treat.

"Well, yeah." Katsuki side-eyes him. Distractedly attacks the smooth surface of the ice cream, mixing it all up. "We got different types. I scoop mine; you lick yours."

"Oh." Halfie watches him scoop strawberry onto his spoon and into his mouth. The cool treat almost immediately dissolves on his tongue, refreshing his throat as it travels down with a swallow.

Fuck.

Shitty-ass sun. Needed that so bad.

"So fuckin' good," He sighs, leaning a little backwards into the air in a half-assed attempt to stretch the happiness entering his veins. The cool sensation fixing his dry throat. "You dunno what I just felt, Halfie."

Todoroki stares. Just stares real fucking hard at Katsuki's ice cream before mean-mugging his own treat.

Then, slowly, he brings the mint chocolate to his mouth and—And takes a bite.

Katsuki's mouth drops open. And for a second, all he can do is watch in absolute horror as the crunch of the ice cream between Todoroki's teeth fills the air.

Somehow, though—Somehow his brain gets its shit together and he manages to utter the most exasperated, weirded-the-fuck-out, confused, "What the hell are you doin'?"

The dumbass pauses chewing, looking like a whole-ass chipmunk with the broken bits of dessert puffing the inside of his cheeks. "Eathing?"

(Katsuki wonders how he'd react if he were to just tug on his cheek. He tries hard to hold himself back.)

"You fuckin' lick. I said lick. Why would you do such a shitty, horrible thing?" He watches the moron try to defend himself, only for it to come out gibberish—not even fucking Japanese—as his mouth puffs and puffs.

And then. He swallows the mouthful. Stares at Katsuki like he's the monstrous piece of shit that bit an ice cream. "I said, I was eating." 

"That's not how. Lick. You lick."

"Oh." Todoroki blinks at the mint chocolate. Slowly moves towards it, licking a stripe from the base to the top. (Holy fuck, Katsuki almost has to take his eyes off but contemplates it's worse to miss the view than to indulge in it.) "Makes sense."

"Yeah," He quietly mutters, bringing strawberry to his mouth again.

He should've—Should've fucking stayed at the dorms. Wouldn't have made a difference, really. If Katsuki knew this was how shit was gonna go, then, yeah, he would've—Would've stayed at the dorms.

Not here.

Not here with this crappy, one-of-a-kind view right beside him, and "But I want to sit", and "No, they won't melt", and this stubborn as hell idiot, and—

"Bakugou."

Holy shit. When the fuck did he get like this? Thought he had it under control. It's not good for him, not good in the summer. Stupid bastard. That's what he is.

"Bakugou."

Oh. That's him.

He glances at Todoroki. Finds him rushing to catch a drop of mint ice cream trailing down the edge of the popsicle. Licks it clean, tongue slowly leading it back to the top. Only when he's sure he's got it all does he look back at Katsuki. 

"You want to try?"

Katsuki blinks. "Hah?"

"You were staring, so I thought you wanted to try." He licks the faint coat of cream on his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue. (He internally screams, kills himself, and curses Todoroki's entire bloodline.)

He wants to whack him on the head. No, don't offer me your ice cream. This is not a thing between us.

What makes you think it's a thing between us?

"I don't wanna try your stupid ice cream." He settles on saying instead, and Todoroki shrugs.

"It tastes good."

He doesn't know why he does it. Really. But when Todoroki scoots just a bit closer and brings the mint chocolate to him, he can't help but lean in. He tastes the soft, melting ice cream as Todoroki holds it steady for him, and when he pulls away, he catches eyes watching his lips. 

"It's okay," He eventually manages to choke out, cleaning his mouth, burning, burning, burning despite Halfie cooling them the whole damn time.

(To be fucking honest, Katsuki didn't taste anything. He got a handful on his tongue, really, but his senses were too distracted to register the flavour.)

"I want to try, too," He says in this tone, eyes still stuck on the blond's lips with no shame.

"No."

The fucker raises his brows like he genuinely thought Katsuki was gonna say yes. The hell? "But you ate from mine."

"Don't be greedy, asshole."

A small frown.

Shit.

That's not fair. That's not fucking fair.

It's just a stupid fucking frown. So what the hell if he's frowning?

(Something tightens in his chest. A certain quirk is cooling him, but the tightness overpowers.)

Fuck this shit.

He grabs Todoroki's ice cream out of his damn hands—all roughly and begrudgingly—and switches it with his. "Here you go. Fuckin' happy?"

For a second, Halfie just blinks. Just—Just fuckin' blinks at him. And, well, it only makes what he did sink further between them, only makes his chest start moving and twisting again, like it can't make up it's fucking mind, so—So Katsuki's about to snatch his shit back and cuss him out, embarrassment threatening to warm his face, but—

But Todoroki finally lifts the wooden spoon. Hesitantly digs at the strawberry, scooping some and placing it in his mouth.

(No, it's not a fucking indirect kiss. It's not. So what if he casually uses the same fucking spoon? So what if they licked the same damn ice cream?)

"It's good," He decides, satisfaction softening his features despite the lack of a smile. Smile. Why doesn't he smile? "I like both. Do you think there's strawberry mint ice cream?"

That, Katsuki grimaces at. "God, Halfie. Don't start mixin' random flavours now. An amateur like you is a real menace, y'know."

In more ways than one.

There's a ring. (Definitely ain't Katsuki's; this shit sounds like it came from the seventeen hundreds. Who the hell has a default ringtone anymore?) Halfie reaches into his pocket.

Katsuki absent-mindedly starts to eat the mint chocolate in his hand, trying to focus on what sounds like Tape Face on the other line.

"Everything okay, Todoroki? You guys get lost?"

He shakes his head, even though Sero can't see him. Katsuki grins against the ice cream.

"No, we got the ice cream." Brushes a few bi-coloured strands away from his eyes. "We're on our way now. Sorry."

"Fuck, that's good." A soft sigh from the other end, and then someone groaning but also collectively losing their shit and sobbing. (The hell is happening?) "You're fine, buddy. We're kinda dying, is all."

"We should go," Katsuki says when the call ends, standing up. Dusts his pants off. Todoroki, seated, looks up at him, lips pressed into a thin line. "We can't stay here forever, y'know. What's the difference, Halfie?"

His eyes go everywhere, anywhere, and then he lets out the smallest sigh known to man. "Nothing."

Seriously, what's up with this guy?

With that, Halfie grabs the strawberry ice cream and gets up, the frozen plastic bag hanging on his forearm.

Is this... Is Halfie sulking?

No. No fuckin' way, he's not.

It's just the heat playing tricks, and Katsuki's shaking his head, focusing on their feet as they walk. Except his gaze is slipping up again to the guy cooling him, and—And Katsuki watches him slowly eat what was once his ice cream like he was the one who fucking bought it. (Well, he did, but that's not the damn point.)

"S'that yours now?" He raises his brow, trying to fight an amused smile from taking over his mouth. (Long ago, Katsuki would've had a fuckin' tantrum. Busted Halfie's lip.)

"Huh?" He hums in question, barely glancing away from the dessert. Shit. Asshole's fucking hooked on this now, isn't he? "I thought we were sharing. It tastes really good. I like both."

Soft. Right now, at this moment, that's what Todoroki's face is. Soft, with his brows relaxed, and the small flutter of long-ass lashes, and his damn mouth not fuckin' frowning anymore.

And. Well. That does a tiny thing to him. To see Halfie try something new, something he's been deprived of, and love it so much.

Katsuki stares hard. Decides this is for him. This sight is only for his eyes.

"Do whatever the hell you want." Comes out eventually. Meant to have some attitude, a done-with-you tone. Ends up a whisper. "Just don't bite the ice cream like that ever again. The others will lose their shit."

Katsuki's licking the mint chocolate when he hears a faint, breathy sound, almost a half-assed way of laughing, and it makes him almost drop the fucking popsicle, the shitty thing about to smear against his face.

Was that Todoroki?

'Course it was, who else would it fucking be?

Shit.

Stupid ice cream. Stupid ice cream distracted him from catching what that would've looked like.

Fuck. What? As if Katsuki cares. He doesn't wanna see that bastard laugh. The hell is happ—

"I guess my quirk lets me easily bite it. I didn't know it was so unusual." Todoroki boasts, like the conceited bastard he is.

His eyes look really nice with the summer sun hitting them at just the right angle. It's unfair. Annoying. Angering. Fuck you.

"It's not unusual from you; you're a weird fucker." This one does come out with attitude. Not even sprinkled with it. Not laced. Full-on stuffed with it. 'Cause now this is war. War, that the idiot's decent to look at.

The bastard rolls his eyes, the back of his free hand reaching for his mouth to hide a grin just as it creeps up—and oh, holy shit, that is a fucking sight.

"The fuck are you rollin' your eyes at, Halfie?" Katsuki almost yells, fucking—fucking screeches, heat probably visible on his cheeks but maybe, maybe it could be mistaken for the weather. "Watch that shitty face of yours."

"Why are you so angry, Bakugou?" Todoroki taunts, he's sure the asshole is taunting him. "All riled up for what?"

This bitch.

Katsuki's really about to make some fireworks.

"You fuckin' dickhead—"

A chill abruptly spikes, attacking the space surrounding them, cool breeze nipping at the shell of his ears, kissing his neck. Faintly blows at his knuckles and revives the treats in their hands.

"Calm down, Bakugou." Curious eyes explore his face. Something else glinting in them. "You're too easy to mess with."

The blond's about to spit out one hundred and a half more vulgar words than he planned at first, but Todoroki opens his mouth again: "I think it's nice that you joined me. It wouldn't have been as good walking alone."

Katsuki's jaw shuts, as well as his brain and his heart, but not the pool of lava in his stomach, in his face.

Where the hell is this coming from?

No, seriously?

"Maybe the next time they want me to get ice cream, you could come again?" Todoroki's mouth does this thing, this pleasant thing where its corners quirk up just a little, showing a bit of pearl white teeth, and it's a pretty sight. So pretty with the sun's orangish rays highlighting his face as it sets, and this faint trace of wind playing with his red and white hair, and oh, something curious in his chest wishes to feel the soft locks beneath his fingers.

Fuck him.

Fuck you.

Fuck you, you stupid fucki—

"Bakugou, Todoroki!"

Kirishima's voice from afar grounds him. Oh. He left again. He didn't realize.

And, well, his gaze is stuck. Won't leave, plastered to the view, even as the unmistakable loud sound of hurried footsteps approaching them gets closer.

But Todoroki's eyes don't even bat to the noise—No, his attention stays on Katsuki (as it fucking should; no one's more important than him) with the same soft smile, and fuck all of them if they think they're ever gonna see such a sight.

Todoroki's a bit taller than him so it's kinda tricky, but Katsuki takes a step forward, makes Todoroki back up onto where the ground slopes downwards, and this way he can kind of tower over him despite their height difference. 

Yeah.

Yeah, this works.

(Of course it would, it's a smart idea. His idea.)

Shielded by Katsuki's body, Halfie looks up at him as his smile melts into confusion, but it's okay, because this new expression is engraved in Katsuki's mind. Somewhere special and safe.

"Yeah," He finally breathes out, the previous illogical annoyance and anger leaving his body to be replaced with something else. Something mellow and curious. "Maybe, I will."

A hand rests itself on his shoulder, firm and sure as it grabs at his muscles and turns him around, forcing him to unblock Todoroki.

It's Kirishima. He looks fucking crazy, like he ran a couple laps around Japan. Even more when he just tightens his grip on Katsuki's shoulder and breathes out a, "Dude."

"What are you guys doing, standing here?" Kaminari groans, flailing his arms, looking less crazy than the other dimwit but more fucking stupid.

The hell is happening at the dorms?

"Come on, we've been waiting for the ice cream." Kirishima's hand slips from his shoulder to gently pat his upper back instead. Halfie's eyes follow the motion. Turns all stoic again.

"Yeah," He monotonously says as Dunce Face snatches the frozen bag from his arm.

The fuck?

Wasn't he smiling just now?

Weird-ass guy.

"We were on our fuckin' way." He shrugs Kirishima's hand off with a roll of his shoulders. "You idiots can't be patient for once in your life, like, damn."

"To be fair, you guys took a long time." Kirishima ruffles the back of his red hair, put up in a ponytail from the heat, but a few strands stick out at the front.

"Seriously, I was dying, bro. Dying." Kaminari keeps fucking complaining like a little bitch, but pauses when his eyes take in the opened ice cream in each of their hands. "Oh, I get it. So, you decided to enjoy yourself and forgot about us."

"Actually, Bakugou and I were sharing ice cream," Todoroki says.

It goes—It goes silent.

Absolutely fucking silent.

"What do you mean Bakugou wa—"

"We weren't fuckin' sharin' ice cream," Katsuki shouts, voice echoing, hot, hot, hot, even when he's being cooled.

"But we were?" He raises a brow, because this fucker never shuts the hell up when you want him to. "You're eating my ice cream right now."

Holy shit. Is he completely incapable of taking a goddamn hint?

"Would you just shut the fuck up?" Katsuki seethes, contemplates shoving the popsicle in his hand down Todoroki's throat as Kaminari and Kirishima stand so fucking still, their fear of getting murdered right on the spot painfully obvious.

Todoroki stares. Trails his eyes along Katsuki's pink face, then settles on his mouth. "Okay."

"Uh," Dunce Face awkwardly and cautiously starts, "let's go inside, the heat's gonna actually kill me."

What?

But it's not hot?

Katsuki turns his head left and confirms Todoroki is still using his quirk. So, how—

Oh.

He's only cooling him. 

He's only cooling him.

Chapter Text

This is really annoying.

Shirt and pants off, lying atop the sheets with only boxers and the sound of the air conditioner ringing throughout his ears, Katsuki decides: Yeah, this is fucking annoying.

This stupid air conditioner is weak as hell. He knows damn well the academy can invest in stronger shit.

Groaning, he runs his hands through his hair but chooses not to pull the strands and go fucking bald.

Downstairs... downstairs isn't any fucking better. If anything, there will probably be people and he'd have to listen to them make noises he never wants to fucking witness. 

He eyes the fan in his room that's holding onto dear life, pathetically whirring in the background.

Ugh. Maybe he could gather some fans into one room, make the ultimate replica of a freezer, and just kick back.

Fans. Where would he find more fans?

Todoroki.

Cue the fucking butterflies in his stomach. 

Katsuki lets his back fall against the mattress, rubbing his hands against his face. Fucking hell...

Without his damn consent, images of that bastard smiling and happily eating ice cream fill his brain. The way he was cooling Katsuki... He can almost feel the sensation even now, skin burning for it amid the warm sheets. 

God, he'd love to have that right now. Fuck. Fuck.

Where is that bastard, anyway? Maybe he can just happen to see him, and maybe Halfie could just happen to cool him.

Yeah. And then Katsuki would just stay with him the rest of the day 'cause, you know, to stay cool.

Yeah. Sounds good.

He throws on a pair of pants and a t-shirt, making his way down to find the usual group decomposing in the common room: Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari—No Halfie.

Frowning, he grabs a cup and the jug of cold water from the fridge, ears listening to a conversation about some new episodes of a series.

"We thought you were napping, Bakugou."

He looks up to find Dunce Face looking at him from the couch.

"No. Too hot."

"Okay, well, Todoroki went to get everyone ice cream. If you want, I can still text him and tell him to count you in."

He stops filling up his cup. "He went alone?"

Kaminari pauses, kind of tries to get a read on Katsuki, then frowns. "Um, yeah. Is there—Did you want something?"

"He left just now. Like, barely five minutes ago." Kirishima gives a smile, a smile with something in it. "I don't think he's far."

I don't think he's far.

Katsuki doesn't like the implication behind that, doesn't like the stupid smile Kirishima's wearing.

He looks down at his cup and taps the counter with his fingers.

I don't think he's far.

Okay. So. Clearly the red-haired bastard over on the couch is implying that, y'know, if Katsuki were to follow Halfie, he would make it. Not that Katsuki is going to do that, 'cause he's not fucking predictable and he sure as hell doesn't care that Halfie went alone.

I think it's nice that you joined me. It wouldn't have been as good walking alone.

Fucking hell.

Shit.

Someone kill him already.

Katsuki puts away the jug, an annoyed huff leaving his lips. He makes sure to avoid making eye contact with the fuckers on the couch because if he does, he swears he'll see a smug look and he can't promise he won't wipe it off.

♡ ♡ ♡

Okay so, Katsuki might have run.

Of course, he walked at first because he runs after and for nothing. But then he couldn't spot Todoroki, and it's hard not to spot two-toned hair, so surely the idiots back there have a warped conception of time and made a fool out of him.

So, yeah, he's running in the fucking heat and he absolutely loves the looks he's getting from elders walking by. (His annoyance doesn't grow only because it could be their last day tomorrow for all he knew, so might as well not push the funeral service.)

If only he had Halfie's number. Really. All of this could have been av—
 
Oh.

Red and white hair. Sitting on a bench under a tree.

Katsuki slows down and evens out his breathing. He doesn't register the faint panic at the back of his mind until his eyes scan the figure, confirm it's Todoroki, and the feeling subsides into relief. (All this over not being able to catch up—What kind of fucking hold does Halfie have on him?)

At least this time Todoroki's wearing something sensible: a thin, white t-shirt and jeans. He doesn't seem to be holding a grocery bag, but Katsuki thinks he sees a phone resting on his lap.

Todoroki only seems to notice him when he halts right in front of the bench, snapping his head to him with slightly widened, pretty blue and grey eyes.

His face relaxes after realizing who's in front of him, and when it does, the air immediately cools, swirling around Katsuki.

Oh, fuck.

It's so refreshing, and the complete change of temperature brutally slaps him in the face for a second. Coupled with the butterflies suddenly batting away in his stomach, it almost wavers to too much. Almost.

Katsuki ignores the backflips in his gut and restrains his expression. "The hell are you sittin' here for?"

Halfie tilts his head in a very not cute way. "I was waiting for you."

What? Surely this guy doesn't have super instincts for another quirk, right?

"What?" Katsuki frowns, taking a couple of steps forward until his legs press against Todoroki's knees.

Now, he has to look up to meet red eyes. "Sero told me you were on your way to me, so I stopped." 

Katsuki swallows. Lets his gaze wander over the excessive amount of exposed skin as Todoroki's neck cranes up, the way his hair's falling from the angle, pretty lashes flaunting their length as they look up at him, just—just lets his eyes wander all around, lets them have a fucking field day.

"Yeah. S'hot, and I didn't wanna die. That's all."

For a bit, Todoroki stays silent, as if turning something over in his shitty-ass brain. Then, he opens his mouth: "I didn't ask because you were in your room."

Whatever. I don't fucking care.

Not like he got butthurt in the kitchen and then ran here like a madman.

"Gimme your phone," Katsuki's about to add I'm giving you my number, but Todoroki's already reaching for the phone in his lap, placing it on the outstretched palm in front of him.

Katsuki pauses, blinks, then finds it in himself to unlock it. (No password, and somehow that seems like Todoroki—Does he even know how to put one in?)

"Next time, just tell me when you're goin' out." He finishes typing in his number and slips it back, fingers brushing (which doesn't matter, but he wants to note that the fucker takes his sweet time retrieving it, unnecessarily stretching the contact).

"So I can text you, right?" He tucks his phone away, something in his voice, something in those pretty eyes looking up again, and Katsuki almost thinks he's eager.

He's going crazy. Katsuki's going crazy.

"Why else do you think I gave it, moron?" He doesn't know how but he controls his tone: smooth, calm, with a hint of fake irritation—thank fuck. Maybe he should drop out of UA and be the number-one actor instead.

Todoroki looks away, a slight crease on his forehead as his pretty lips frown.

No. No, look at me.

"You... You are really confusing, Bakugou." He mutters, right foot gently hooking around Katsuki's left Achilles tendon, and the blond's knees almost buckle right then and there.

Somehow, he manages to stand still, continuing to press his legs against Todoroki's seated knees. "What the fuck's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," He breathes. "You tell me."

♡ ♡ ♡

"Got it all?" Katsuki asks, finally reaching in to get ice cream for himself while his other hand holds the freezer open.

There's a variety of flavours in front of him, but he's still lost. He doesn't feel like eating something unique right now, like the pile of lavender ice cream on the side—and is that wasabi ice cream? 

He sends a nasty look to the green inanimate object—because some shit doesn't have to be turned into dessert—and neatly searches the options with his free hand.

"Yeah, I think so." Halfie finally answers, eyes scanning the text one last time. "It's pretty much like the first time."

"'Kay," Katsuki grabs a vanilla cone. It looks like it has some pistachio at the top and a drizzle of caramel. 

Whatever, fuck it.

He puts it in the shopping basket hanging on his shoulder and moves to the side, making room for Todoroki as he closes the freezer because he just knows he'll take a whole week and a half observing everything. "Come pick."

Todoroki's at his side, leaning into the glass to see closely and Katsuki watches his hair messily mixes colours, soft strands draping over his face and blocking some of his vision.

He doesn't think about it before his body is moving. (Actually, it doesn't seem like he's been thinking at all lately.)

So, he just does it.

Katsuki reaches out and gently gets a hold of the other's soft hair in his palm, running his fingers through it to hold the strands away from his forehead. He keeps his hand pressed there because if he lets go, it'll just succumb to gravity and drape over Todoroki's view again.

(Yeah, that's definitely why.)

Todoroki doesn't really react other than the quick flick of his eyes meeting Katsuki's in surprise, but then he's back to focusing on the freezer. (He thought he felt the forehead under his hand go extremely warm for a second, but then Todoroki cools the air even stronger, so he's unsure.)

"Found shit you like?" A patient tone engulfs his question; he can't find it in himself to be irritated when the butterflies in his stomach are having the time of their lives, skin contact challenging his heart.

So, yeah. There's no rush.

Halfie doesn't answer at first. Instead, he finally straightens up and opens the freezer door. The chill that escapes makes no difference compared to his quirk.

Katsuki watches him grab an ice cream sandwich, the biscuit part shaped like a fish and the cream in between dark brown.

"This is in the shape of a fish," Todoroki states, handing it to Katsuki, who finally realizes he doesn't need to hold the strands anymore and begrudgingly lets go to take the ice cream.

He looks down, eyes running over the packaging. Looks back up at Todoroki. "Sure looks like it, Halfie."

"I want it."

"Sounds good." He puts it in the basket, trying to fight a confused laugh from slipping out. 

Todoroki makes his way to the register, and when he's done politely passing the worker their numerous ice cream, he quickly pulls out Endeavor's card.

"I know you're rich and all," He playfully starts, "but you sure you can keep makin' Endeavor pay for this shit?"

Todoroki shrugs, a beep piercing through their conversation when he taps the card against the machine. "Not my problem."

(Katsuki doesn't know why but this just made Todoroki hotter.)

♡ ♡ ♡

"This shit is so sweet," Katsuki grimaces, pulling away from the vanilla cone, a string of caramel almost following his lips.

"It won't be anymore once you get through the top," Todoroki says, unwrapping his own ice cream as he gets comfortable on the curb beside Katsuki.

The cool air surrounds them and the frozen plastic bag lay between them, water droplets slowly dripping from the ice onto the stone of the curb.

He takes another lick, making sure to have more of the vanilla in comparison to the caramel in hope of it overpowering the sickeningly sweet taste.

Todoroki rips the packaging open then silently stares down at the sandwich.

Katsuki's got to give them credit; it looks exactly like the picture: the biscuits are perfectly cut into the shape of a fish with outlines of scales engraved in the tail, cream neatly resting in between thanks to the freezer at the store.

"What are you starin' at, Halfie?" He watches, amused. "Waitin' for it to swim again?"

Todoroki rolls his eyes before sticking the tip of his tongue out to cautiously taste the ice cream in the middle.

First, it's a blank expression as he swallows. Then, his nose wrinkles, forehead furrowing with a purse of his lips.

Clearly, whatever he tasted was so horrendously bad but all Katsuki could think of first was: new face unlocked.

"You good?" He asks, laughing loudly when Todoroki excessively shakes his head.

"No." He holds the sandwich away like it's going to fucking attack him, licking his lips before he's grimacing again from the aftertaste. "That wasn't chocolate."

"Not chocolate?" Katsuki reaches for the sandwich in Todoroki's hands to hold the edge of the wrapper, stretching it in an attempt to read the text. "Says the flavour right here."

He leans in closer, the shitty words hard to read amongst the colourful print, and this way he can almost feel Todoroki's soft breath on his forehead.

Not that it matters.

"It's fuckin'—It says red bean." 

"Red bean?" Todoroki echoes dumbly, leaning down to see too—and oh, this is way, way too close, Katsuki realizes when he glances up and is mere centimetres away from a pair of pretty pink lips.

Todoroki's focused eyes shift from the wrapper to Katsuki's, pausing as he registers the lack of space, cheeks turning pink.

Pink.

Todoroki's blushing. 

Todoroki-fucking-Shouto is blushing.

"I... I didn't know it was red bean," He whispers and Katsuki can't breathe, not when Todoroki's eyes linger on his lips. "I thought it was chocolate."

Put some space. Right now. Katsuki needs to put some space.

He backs away to sit at his original spot, red eyes focused on the street because he knows if he glances at Todoroki and sees his flushed cheeks, he knows—he knows he wouldn't be able to stop himself from kissing him stupid.

"You don't like it?" Katsuki asks, clearing his throat. He can feel the guy beside him activate his quirk even more, spreading the cool air. 

He's getting rid of his pink cheeks. He's getting rid of his pink cheeks.

Katsuki is not dumb to not notice, but he's definitely fucked. Beyond saving, brain recalling the scene on loop, thoughts revolving around one damn thing. One damn person.

"No, I don't like it."

"Yeah?" Katsuki licks his ice cream distractedly, hoping the vanilla would slide down to his stomach and swat one of the butterflies dead. "Well, you should've paid more attention."

He hears a grumble, so he looks. Todoroki's muttering something before gently kicking a pebble with a frown. 

This guy... This guy is totally doing this shit on purpose. This is not fair game. Not fair game when Katsuki's hit with such vile and totally not cute sights.

"I thought it was chocolate," The cheating bastard defensively yet deflatingly repeats, "and it was a fish."

"For fuck's sake," He groans, switching his ice cream with a confused, slightly wide-eyed Todoroki. "Just have this and stop fuckin' whinin'."

Halfie stares down at the vanilla in his hand with partially leftover pistachio and caramel on top. Then, he looks at Katsuki. "Thank you, Bakugou."

"Whatever." The blond frowns, and in all honesty, he just wants to go to his room to cry and break shit because his stomach just won't shut up with the fluttering—it's too much. He's been put through too much.

And now he's stuck eating this fucking dumb piece of shit of a red bean ice cream shaped like a fucking fish because the moron beside him decided not to read the fucking flavour. After all, he just wanted to eat a fucking ice cream that looks like a fucking fish.

What a fucking joke.

Katsuki looks over to see Todoroki licking the pool of vanilla threatening to spill over the edge of the cone, with this stupid, small, gorgeous smile, and—and eating this disgusting sandwich doesn't sound that shitty anymore.

Chapter Text

Studying in the common room isn't that fucking shitty.

Sure, yeah, usually there's an overwhelming mix of people occupying the tables and couches, and some using the kitchen to cook or bake. The noise and smell mix to make a perfect imperfect place for a study session. This shitty-ass situation is worse these days with summer rounding the corner (though considering the heat with the intensity of hell, it could be argued that summer's already arrived and spit on Japan).

However, knees deep into math review, Katsuki thinks this is pretty fucking decent.

He's claimed a table in the common room, study material neatly organized into piles in front of him, and the music flowing through his earbuds is quiet enough for him to be able to concentrate but loud enough to drown out the dumbasses hanging out on the couches (except when Tape Face playfully threw Kirishima over the couch then started loudly wrestling and Katsuki had to shout only half empty threats).

He turns the paper, eyes fixating on the stream of equations and word problems. 

"Bakugou?"

He looks up to find Todoroki.

Todoroki, with his hand resting on the side of the table to support his body while he slightly leans down toward Katsuki, red and white hair framing his face, strands falling from the angle due to gravity. (If he leans down just a tiny bit more, they would spill over Katsuki's face and tickle his skin.)

(That doesn't sound so shitty.)

"Bakugou?" 

He watches the pretty lips move, barely hearing what they're saying over the tame beat travelling through his ears.

They came back from getting ice cream a few hours ago, and when everyone eventually parted after hanging out while enjoying the cold treats, he thought that would be the last he'd see Halfie for the day.

But he's right here. Still wearing that stupid, thin, white shirt that if you look at intently enough you swear it's see-through, hugging Todoroki's torso a bit too tight, fabric stretching around his biceps before the short sleeves end, leaving the rest of his arms bare.

Bastard.

Does he really not know the shit he's doing? Does he really not notice their class—No, the whole damn school looking at him? Are Katsuki's eyes on him not fucking enough?

Maybe he stares for too long, because confusion starts to paint Todoroki's shitty face. 

He quickly pulls out his earphones. "Yeah? The hell is it, Halfie?"

"Are you studying?"

Katsuki shoots a look at his clearly crowded table and then back up at him. "No, I'm fuckin' dancin'."

It doesn't seem like the fucker appreciates the smart-ass response because he shuts his eyes for a moment and lets out an exasperated sigh. "Exams start in a few days. Can you help me?"

Katsuki blinks. He doesn't know what he was expecting but Todoroki asking for help reviewing material was not on the damn list. Hell, shouldn't he be asking that nerd or Ponytail? She's the top student in the class and would definitely lend him a hand and her heart while she's at it, with the way she's always around him, circling him like a shark taunting its prey.

And sure, Katsuki's marks are very high, but even he has his pile to get through to ensure passing; letting down his guard is the perfect opportunity for him to fall behind, so he needs all the time he can get.

But, still. Still, he isn't an idiot. And only an idiot would be in Katsuki's place with Todoroki Shouto standing in front of them asking for a one-on-one session and refuse.

He chews the inside of his cheek. "Sure."

A smile forms on Todoroki's lips, making Katsuki's heart drop, the instinct to create a blast in the common room and let the smoke hide the rare expression clawing at his skin. For a second, the room crumbles around them and he's back to the first day they got ice cream together, outside with the breeze finally making its presence between the humid air, playing with Todoroki's hair, the sun toying with the shade of those mismatched eyes as it sets and—and Todoroki's smiling, asking to do this again, and Katsuki's the only one there to see it because it's for him.

But this time it's not. This time there are some classmates here, the girls studying together at the table right behind them, and they're for sure looking. Because who wouldn't? Who the hell wouldn't look at Todoroki Shouto?

"Thanks. I'll be back." He says then turns around to leave.

Katsuki watches his retreating back, lingering a bit too long on the curve of his waist, the damn shirt giving away so much with the way the fabric extends in the right places, outlining years of hard work.

When his figure eventually rounds the corner and disappears, Katsuki finally tears his gaze away, red eyes scanning the room before accidentally meeting Kirishima's.

He's been—He's been looking for a while, hasn't he?

As if answering, Kirishima gives a soft smile, and Katsuki burns. Burns because he's been caught.

♡ ♡ ♡

"Good?" Halfie asks, pushing his notebook toward the blond.

Katsuki eyes the paper littered with characters, corrections and reminders written in a combination of colourful ink above Todoroki's writing.

He's sitting on Katsuki's left as they share the space in comfortable silence with an occasional disturbance when Todoroki's progress needs to be checked and work discussed.

Every time he finishes, he patiently stares at Katsuki until the blond is done writing his sentence, and only when he puts down his pencil does Todoroki gently turn his book, guiding it to him.

Every time. And every time, their bare arms rub together—Halfie's a tad bit colder due to his quirk. It doesn't make Katsuki nervous. Nor does it make it slightly difficult to focus on his own work, the pit of his stomach running warm. It doesn't. Really.

So, instead of obsessing over meaningless shit or addressing the slight flush at the tip of his ears, he silently takes the notebook handed to him and reads.

Todoroki's great. His understanding, Katsuki means. Todoroki's understanding is great—Not perfect nor flawless. But great. Good. At least good enough that asking for a one-on-one session seems like a stretch.

"It's fine," Katsuki mutters, the rustle of papers almost drowning out his voice when he places the notebook back. "Just remember to follow the corrections. You already made me rewrite them six fuckin' times."

When he finally looks up, he finds Todoroki's pretty eyes already looking at him, chin resting on his hand with his elbow propped on the table.

He looks all comfortable. Like he could stare all day.

Katsuki wants to say: Me too. I could stare all day, too. I have been.

Todoroki opens his mouth to reply, but the next words are not said in his voice:

"Geez, Bakugou. Be nice to our saviour, Todoroki. He's the source of our ice cream."

Dunce Face.

Katsuki turns his head to find the fucker standing at the edge of their table, summoned by God knows what.

"You think that was mean?" Apparently, Kirishima decides to join the conversation, leaving the couch area to walk up to them, Sero trailing behind. "When Bakugou and I study together, he hits me with the books when I mess up."

"It's called discipline," Katsuki explains, brows furrowing.

"Yeah?" Sero grins. "You hit Roki, too, as 'discipline'?" 

Katsuki tries to argue, but can only muster a sharp intake of breath before snapping his head to the left to see Todoroki. He's still in that stupid pose, watching the whole thing play out as if it doesn't concern him, and then his eyes finally land back on Katsuki, all curious.

"That's called pretty privilege," Kirishima snorts. "Consider yourself a lucky man, Todoroki."

Katsuki is seriously considering revoking Kirishima's best friend title. (Not like he's ever admitted that shit out loud; the absence of the sappy friendship confession is compensated by the traumatizing shit the pair has been through together, but still.)

"Can you idiots just leave us alone?"

"Bro, no way!" Kaminari exclaims way too loudly in a room full of tense and tired students, earning glares from the girls seated behind them. "Let us study with you. I need to prepare for exams, too."

At that, Sero and Kirishima share a look.

"Uh, actually, let's study alone this time." Sero laughs, except it sounds unnatural. Forced.

Katsuki frowns. What the fuck is it this time?

"Come on, we'll study in my room or something." The red-haired dumbass insists, pushing the energetic blond out of the room. Tape Face almost follows but pauses to give a small smile and thumbs up to Katsuki before striding after them.

Oh.

He's going to kill them. After he's done studying with Todoroki.

When Katsuki turns, mismatched eyes are wandering all over his face.

What's wrong with this guy? He hasn't even said one word throughout the whole shit.

"What?" He tries to sound unbothered, yet it comes out strained, on edge.

"Pretty privilege?" Todoroki tilts his head a bit, resting his cheek against his hand instead of his chin now. "I have that?"

Katsuki scowls, a flutter running over his body. It's probably the stupid red bean fish ice cream from earlier, swimming in the lava at the pit of his stomach. "If you say cringey shit like that, I'll take it away."

Todoroki smiles and his expression is so open, so content. "So I do have it?"

"Fuckin' hell, if you say one more word a black eye is what you'll have."

"I already have a burnt one."

Katsuki glares at him.

♡ ♡ ♡

"I'm scared of the physical exam tomorrow," Kaminari whines, and Katsuki is unsure if the slight sweat gleaming on his skin is from nervousness or the merciless heat as they stand outside of the academy.

"Please don't bring that up, dude." Kirishima slings his arm over his shoulders in an attempt to be comforting. "We just finished the written exam, so let's just celebrate that, okay?"

True. A winding down is in order. Sure, Katsuki didn't share the same amount of adrenaline as them while writing the test—thanks to a strict studying schedule since, well, ever—but it's still a significant weight off his chest.

Usually, like in the past, after the written exam is done, he would spend the afternoon sparring and training for the physical one the following day. But not this time; not in this heat. He'll sweat too much, which could challenge his control over how powerful his blasts will be—Not to mention the fucking heat stroke he'll have.

"How about some ice cream?" Kirishima laughs when Dunce Face beams at his suggestion, patting his back before pulling away.

"What's it with you and sugar?" Katsuki grunts, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his pants. While Kaminari starts to immediately spout defensive remarks, Katsuki scans the crowd of students scattered around the front yard of the academy, some meeting in groups to discuss the stressful day while others leave together.

He spots red and white hair.

Okay, he seriously doesn't mean to.

Seriously.

But, you know, colours like those are hard to miss. And, maybe—just maybe, Katsuki's eyes tend to gravitate to Todoroki lately.

Halfie is talking—No, he's listening to Sero talk enthusiastically about something that has to be good because Todoroki is smiling. (It's very small, not like the one he gave to Katsuki that one day, but still.)

It's possible he got too distracted because Kaminari stops fucking ranting about how he's not obsessed with sugar—but even if he was, then, "So what? It doesn't hurt to have a guilty pleasure, Bakubro." (It still doesn't count as a guilty pleasure, because you have to feel fucking guilty about it, you fucking idiot.)—and follows Katsuki's gaze. "Oh, hey, that's Sero and Todoroki!"

"Yeah," Katsuki mumbles, pulling his eyes away.

Kirishima side-eyes him, then clears his throat. "Let's tell Sero, he'll wanna join us."

With that, the two start walking toward them.

Katsuki follows a few steps behind. For no reason. (There's a flutter in his stomach and it's ridiculous because he's just going to be near Todoroki and not even alone, so it's fucking frustrating that his body is having such reactions and—and he's suddenly really, really fucking thankful for the weather because it can take the blame for the pink colouring the tip of his ears.)

Dunce Face basically throws himself at Sero's back with a shout of his name, making Sero slightly bow from the sudden impact, his chest colliding with Todoroki's but not hard enough that they all fall, so—So, their chests stay touching, Sero being supported by Todoroki.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't—

"Woah, bro, you're way too energetic," Sero complains with fake irritation before muttering "Sorry" to Todoroki, who doesn't even fucking react. "Get off, Kami."

Todoroki looks at Katsuki, finally officially acknowledging each other. Then, keeping eye contact, he slowly reaches for Sero and rests his hand on his forearm to steady him while Tape Face tames the hyper beast on his back, as if the guy needs more support than the fucking chest he's leaning on.

And if that didn't set something off in Katsuki already, because Kaminari is Kaminari, he excitedly thrashes around in protest, forcing Sero to fully rest on Todoroki's torso like that was even fucking possible. Then—Then, the fucking strawberry and vanilla bastard actually holds Tape Face closer to him.

Okay. So. It does matter. It fucking matters.

Katsuki grabs the back of Kaminari's shirt and not so gently pulls him away and back to his own two fucking feet, ending the unnecessary show he put on. 

"Thank you," Sero says, laughing when Kaminari playfully pouts, but all of that doesn't fucking matter because Todoroki's hand stays, stays, then slowly glides down Sero's skin as he pulls away, stretching the contact instead of simply taking it off like a normal fucking person would do.

Fucking hell.

Fucking hell, Katsuki can breathe right again.

This is not good. This is not good.

The guys are saying something but there are no sounds as their mouths move. He swallows and lets himself get it together amidst the implications of the sour emotion, the hot weather, the heat pooling in his stomach—amidst everything.

"Ice cream? Sure." Sero looks back at Todoroki, grinning. "Wanna join us, Roki?"

Katsuki can focus again.

And what is up with that weirdly intimate nickname?

(Sero has one for almost all his friends; he just called Kaminari one, for fuck's sake. It's fine. It's fine.)

Todoroki nods.

"Sweet, let's go!"

Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari walk ahead, caught up in a conversation about some show again. No clue what is so fucking amazing about this damn show.

Katsuki trails a little behind them with Halfie walking on his left, gently clutching the strap of his backpack. It makes the side of his shirt ride up just a bit, giving a teaser of his abs.

Katsuki's not looking. If he looks, he wonders; if he wonders, he gets tempted; if he gets tempted, he'll have to control his urges (and if he can't, Todoroki would be on Katsuki's bed, under him, with more than his fucking stomach showing).

They don't speak to fill the silence; a hello isn't required between them. Plus, the sour feeling that shall not be named is still bubbling in his body, so if he were to greet Todoroki, it would be with his fist.

Eyes are on him. He feels it. Restraining himself from meeting Todoroki's gaze is difficult even when annoyed, so he gives in and looks.

They're so pretty. Well, everything is—not only his eyes. Though, right now, they look so nice with the sun hitting them. It's really fucking annoying. Now he wants to beat him up properly rather than just a single punch to his jaw.

Katsuki has seen him around after their previous unplanned study session. Hell, they're in the same class, but it's been so busy with preparations for exams that everyone's been doing their own shit, so no one's been thinking about ice cream, which means they never got to go together again. Because why would they go alone?

Todoroki blinks at him all innocently.

Bastard.

Katsuki rolls his eyes and makes sure to glance at Sero's back for good measure.

Maybe it clicks in Todoroki's small fucking brain because he starts to cool Katsuki.

Don't be mad, I was just teasing, the breeze whispers to him, carrying a message from the sender, a meaning.

Or, at least that's what he wishes it was saying. Todoroki owes him nothing. They are nothing.

♡ ♡ ♡

"Ugh, why can't I have more than one?" Kaminari whines, lifting ice cream from the freezer, two in each hand.

"'Cause you'll have a sugar rush and I'll have to knock your ass out to get you back to the dorms," Katsuki casually says, hovering over the other freezer.

"What Bakugou means is you'll get an upset stomach and it's not worth some ice cream." Kirishima smooths over, looking through the glass of the freezer with Sero and Dunce Face.

There's more grumbling and hushed protests from a disappointed and stubborn blond. Katsuki can't hear a lot due to the distance and eventually ignores the sound for good (for Kaminari's sake). 

There's a breeze to his left. He didn't open the freezer, though?

His confusion gets answered when Todoroki enters his field of view, standing beside him to peer at the ice cream. Katsuki glances away to the options in front of them too, but he couldn't care less, honestly. As long as it's not the wasabi hiding in the corner, he doesn't mind.

He doesn't exactly know why he tagged along. It wasn't for some sweets, that's for sure. And, to Katsuki, winding down after exams means being alone in his room and letting his body rest after the stress while the final days of school come to an end. Not here, still in his uniform and outside with people in the fucking heat.

But, still. Still. Studying for tests was draining. It kept everyone busy. Standing here next to Todoroki, finally, he can almost feel himself deflate. Slowly, like a balloon full of so much air it's seeping out the knot with a low hiss.

He almost didn't notice it when it was happening. When he was studying in his room alone, tired and in need of a break to gather himself. A text. A call. To simply see red and white hair around the dorms and hallways. It was enough to get a glimpse of it—to know he's still there. Well, it makes sense because when it was happening—when this longing was happening, the stress covered it. It's unmistakable now with Todoroki's body so close. The want vibrating through him. It wants to seep out, too. (God, it's begging to seep out—Katsuki covers the cracks but there are too many.)

It's probably the heat; this stupid heat makes everything harder. But Todoroki is cooling him. He's always cooling him. Even then, Katsuki still melts. He wants to let himself melt. (What if he slips through Todoroki's fingers? He falls and hits concrete. He falls and hits concrete. There were never hands waiting for him at the bottom; it was delusi—)

Todoroki slides the freezer door open, reaches in, then hesitates as he pulls back. Katsuki shakes his head, grabbing whatever the hell his hand manages to choose first.

It's a thick, rectangular mango popsicle. Simple. Acceptable. He heads to the register to join the others, sparing one last glance at him over his shoulder.

"Don't take years choosin' one, Halfie." A pause, a flashback of a red bean fish playing in his mind. "And make sure to read the fuckin' flavour this time."

When he reaches the front, the guys' attention are on him.

"It was a fish." Todoroki's voice is behind him, almost exasperated and a little defensive. "And I thought it was chocolate."

So, he didn't take another 51 years to choose ice cream. Surprising.

"Yeah, whatever you say," He grins, turning away to face the guys, who are—who are smiling, staring at them curiously.

He frowns. "What?"

Kirishima shrugs while Tape Face dismissively gathers their ice cream for the worker to calculate.

But then, as if he didn't catch whatever the fuck the other two were silently playing at, Dunce Face opens his mouth with this ridiculous look on his face. "Hey, what, you guys have your own little things now? This is so—"

Sero elbows Kaminari's side and the guy doubles over in a very exaggerated way. (Actually, Tape Face has one hell of a pair of elbows, so maybe it was a genuine reaction.)

Halfie ignores that whole mess, proudly presenting his choice of ice cream to him instead. "Cookies and vanilla."

(He's been doing that a lot; ignoring these stupid attempts at teasing both of them. Katsuki doesn't know why it kind of bothers him when he ignores the teasing, too. Maybe it's because he at least acknowledges the annoying, playful statements. He ignores it but yells at them; Todoroki flat-out dismisses it. It's a little...)

Katsuki's eyes shift to the small cardboard box in his hand. It's a classic cone with a fat scoop of cookies and cream on it.

Cookies and vanilla. That's funny. The bastard's unintentionally funny, Katsuki decides, a little smile on his lips.

"It's cookies and cream," He enlightens him.

"Same thing. Vanilla, cream—same thing," Todoroki says, tapping the card against the payment terminal.

"You're so cool when you pay like that, Todoroki," Kirishima gushes when the machine beeps in response. Katsuki thinks he can actually see specks of admiration in his eyes over paying with a fucking card. (It's not like he doesn't have manners, but still.)

"Are you sure you're not saying that so he keeps paying?" Sero laughs, each of them grabbing their ice cream.

"Hey, you know that's not it."

"It's confirmed: Kirishima's a gold digger."

"Oh, shut up, Kaminari."

Katsuki tears open his ice cream as they head out of the store. He's on Todoroki's right, who immediately cools him the second they walk past the automatic doors. Katsuki watches him open the box then get momentarily stumped when the cone is in another small plastic wrapper, impatience displaying on his face.

So eager for a simple treat.

It's kind of cute.

The guys halt in front of the store to open theirs, continuing to talk. Halfie stays by his side, ripping the bag to finally reveal cookies and cream that seem to have already started the process of melting, a sticky vanilla residue clinging to the inside of the wrapper when he pulls the cone out.

He stares at it real good before cautiously moving it to his lips. Maybe he's getting a bad flashback of the red bean fish, Katsuki thinks. It's the most plausible reason because he's looking at it like it's a villain in disguise.

His tongue makes contact with the ice cream. Slow. Careful. When he registers the taste, he pauses and then licks it. Pauses again, and goes for another lick. And another. Another one, too.

Katsuki smiles. So, he likes it. That's good. That's good.

"So, it's gonna be summer vacation again." Sero takes his ice cream out. It seems like he chose an orange popsicle because when he bites into it, a soft filling oozes out, revealing small bits of real orange. "We spend so much of our time here, that it kinda feels wrong to leave."

"Yeah," Kirishima laughs bitterly, "we're gonna graduate. Really soon."

Even Dunce Face pauses licking at his rocky road ice cream, a frown taking over his content. "Oh man, I guess we are, aren't we?"

Katsuki stares at them then glances down at his mango ice cream. It already started to melt, warm orange slowly making its way down to hang from the bottom of the popsicle.

Melting. Everything is melting. All around him.

"Hey, dumbasses." He loudly starts, and they meet him with slightly widened eyes. "Did you come here to sulk or to celebrate finals? Hah?"

Three faces are on him. For a bit, they only stare. Then their smiles break out, a little sound of laughter.

"Yeah, I guess we are," Kaminari repeats, but this time differently—happily. He goes back to licking his ice cream, shaking his head with a grin.

Satisfied, Katsuki finally tastes his. It's alright. Good. Well, it's mango. He has nothing against mango, so he doesn't mind.

When he looks up, Halfie's watching him. It's difficult to tell if it's a neutral expression or maybe upset because, well, he's making the one he usually makes. It's not easy to read. He's not easy to read, as a whole.

Katsuki nods at him in question, not wanting to make noise and catch the others' attention, who are gradually finding better shit to talk about.

Todoroki opens his mouth. Pauses before closing it with a shake of his head. "Nothing."

How he hates that word coming out of his mouth.

He's back to licking his cookies and cream like a damn cat. 

"You like it?" Katsuki asks a question he already knows the answer to, following right behind the others when they start to walk.

"Yeah," He admits, licking the white on his bottom lip. "I do."

"Good, 'cause I wasn't gonna eat shit 'cause of your picky ass."

Halfie's mouth presses into a thin line. "My ass is not picky. It's fine."

It's more than fine, Katsuki wants to say but—

"Hey, Todoroki!" Tape Face calls, turning his body around to face them. "Summer doesn't change anything. We'll still share those mangas, right?"

It's a bright smile Sero's offering. Todoroki almost returns it. "Okay, we will."

A sour feeling. A sour feeling is returning to his stomach. Maybe it never left.

Katsuki glances down at his ice cream. It's melting. The sugary droplets stray from the top, and he watches them shake when they reach the bottom, getting ready to fall.

When he looks up, Todoroki's eyeing them, too.

"What?"

"It's melting."

Katsuki watches the droplets finally fall, hitting the ground while they walk. "I know."

"You're not catching them." There's a mix of confusion and maybe frustration in his tone. "You're letting them fall." 

"I know."

A hand engulfs Katsuki's own and tugs, making him bring the mango to Todoroki's lips, who tilts his head and licks the droplets as they trail down, eyes staring into red ones.

Katsuki watches, jaw slack, the feeling of Todoroki's hand holding his steady burns into his nerves, his brain.

Wet lips pull away from the ice cream. "If you know, catch them. Don't just let them hit the ground."

Catch them. Catch them. Don't just let them hit the ground. Catch them.

Todoroki lets go of his hand with a dart of his tongue cleaning his mouth, before returning to eating his cookies and cream.

Katsuki blinks. Blinks again. The last few seconds replay in his mind—Todoroki's hand on his, the eye contact, his tongue licking at his mango ice cream—until his brain loads.

Then blood is rushing to his cheeks. 

"You fuckin' bastard," Katsuki grabs the hem of Halfie's uniform, giving it a shake. The guys immediately turn around, panic on their faces. "You greedy li'l fucker, just say you wanted my ice cream, yeah? What the fuck was that?"

Todoroki may be a bit taller, but Katsuki has more muscles, and it's proven as Todoroki's body sways, being shaken from his tie by a flustered blond sputtering more angry insults.

"Bakugou, please, we're in public," Dunce Face stammers, flailing his arms like fucking Four Eyes.

"Woah, easy, you're gonna make Roki fly at this point."

"Fuck you and your fuckin' Roki. 'Course you're concerned 'bout this sly fuckin' bastard."

There's more sputtering, not from Todoroki (the fucker is wearing the most unbothered expression, even still licking his ice cream as his shit is being rocked), but from the three guys and mostly Dunce Face.

"Are you seriously fighting here?" Kirishima's calm voice.

Katsuki's abuse dies down and finally lets Todoroki back onto his two feet, ruffled uniform and all. (His red tie is barely hanging on, a few buttons of his shirt open.)

"Not fighting," Todoroki reassures nonchalantly, not bothering to fix himself. He hands his cookies and cream to Katsuki. "Switch, please."

Katsuki takes it, grumbling more profanities as he gives Todoroki his mango in return.

"Thanks," The asshole says, already eating the popsicle. "Don't let them fall."

"Yeah, fuck you." Katsuki begrudgingly tastes the vanilla in his hand.

Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari watch them, dumbfounded. Then they turn, sharing a look, grins creeping up before they're full-on laughing in disbelief, and maybe—maybe other things they know.

But it's fine. It doesn't matter. All of this doesn't matter because Todoroki has his ice cream and he's making sure he catches every drop.

♡ ♡ ♡

When they reach Heights Alliance, they bid goodbyes as each of them goes to their respective floor. (Dunce Face first, then Kirishima and Katsuki, which leaves Sero walking with his fucking Roki together. It's fine, whatever.)

Kirishima pauses in front of his door, hand on the knob. "Anyway, I was just wondering..."

"What?" Katsuki furrows his brows. "Just spit it out."

He doesn't say anything for a bit like he's carefully choosing his words. "Just wondering if something's wrong. Everything okay, man?"

"What do you mean?"

"You and Sero." Kirishima rubs the back of his neck. "Well, earlier. You know what I'm talking about. Even before that, really, you grabbed Kaminari off Sero pretty roughly, dude."

"What the fuck, no I didn't." Katsuki frowns.

Kirishima gives him a look. He wants to punch him. He wants to punch him for knowing so much, reading so much. Maybe he should tug his red strands, one by one. Make him bald instead of that fucking porcupine look of his.

"Don't you think they're too fuckin' close?" Katsuki buries his hands in his pocket, eyes trailing to the floor.

"What do you mean?" Kirishima's smiling. He knows without having to look; he can hear it. He's smiling, all gently. Knowing. So knowing.

"Nothin', just never mind."

It's silent for a bit. Katsuki thinks he'll hear the rattle of the knob and a soft goodbye, but instead, it's his friend's voice again:

"Huh, they watch shows together. Or I think read mangas?" Kirishima says, staring at the ceiling in thought. "Not really sure."

Katsuki looks up.

"Sero told me they hang out in his room and read," He explains, pausing as if considering something. "But, y'know, you never know what they're actually up to."

Katsuki likes to think Kirishima isn't hinting at what he thinks he means, but the fucker is wearing the most shit-eating grin when the blond scowls. "What? What the hell?"

"What?" Kirishima grips the handle harder, ready to flee. "What's up with that reaction, Bakugou?"

"What fuckin' reaction? I ain't havin' a fuckin' reaction," He defensively replies, maybe a bit too loudly, and it echoes in the hallway.

(Okay, maybe he's having a fucking reaction.)

"Bakugou, you're smart. All I'm saying is, claiming what's yours is manly." Kirishima almost sternly says, playfulness leaving his tone. Katsuki feels like a rabid dog being tamed. "And smart. He's really pretty, you know."

"Fuck you," He spits out, glaring. "Fuck you, I'm fuckin' leavin'."

Laughing, Kirishima opens his door while Katsuki turns around to his own room, right beside him. "Bakugou, come on, just think about it, yeah? I'm right. He's really pretty."

"Fuck you." 

It echoes in the hallway, along with the sound of an angry blond slamming his door shut.

Something else, too. Something else is echoing, as Katsuki's back leans against the wall, face pink.

His heart. It's going crazy. Echoing against his ribcage, throughout his room. He wonders if Todoroki hears it from upstairs. If his heart is answering, too.

Chapter Text

Katsuki likes summer break. Not because school momentarily stops and allows the chance to slack off—No, it's the opposite.

Summer break provides both time to train and for his body to properly heal. So, Katsuki takes advantage of it because he refuses to fall behind. The past week and a half have been filled with a shit-ton of training, like lifting and full-body workouts at home when he doesn't have the chance to have a proper session at his preferred nearby gym. (Well, it's not so near considering the pretty long bus ride there, but this is something Katsuki is fully committed to.)

But as much as summer break lets him get better than everyone else and their mama, it also allows a shit-ton of time to think about a certain candy cane.

Like. A fucking shit-ton of time. And it's fucking eating him, leaving cavities.

It's not like he does it on purpose. Hell, if he had a say in this, he would twist his head off and blast it to the ends of the Earth with his quirk, never to see that shit again. Maybe farther to outer space, let a group of aliens play volleyball with his head or some shit. As long as it's not being used to think of the fucking idiot, it doesn't matter.

It's fucking annoying. There's this ball of yarn in the pit of his stomach labelled Todoroki Shouto, each thread representing too complicated emotions, vivid flashbacks and memories, and it's all tangled together—So, so tangled.

Katsuki doesn't even try to unravel the yarn anymore. He tried twice.

Once in his shower while he scrubbed himself clean after a workout, the adjacent mirror from where he was standing fogged up. He thought he saw Todoroki, somewhere in the steam-filled room. Or maybe it was the warmth of the water that brought him to mind. Or the fresh air that hit him when he opened the bathroom door after he finished, cool air shocking his hot skin. It was just like the bastard.

The second time, he was laying in bed, trying to fucking sleep but the humidity in his room was unbelievable, despite having the window slightly open to welcome in the cool night air and the fan whirring in the corner next to his closet. Somewhere, between the frustration bubbling in him and the steam that might as well be coming out of his ears, his skin missed Todoroki's quirk.

Maybe every part of Katsuki was shouting for him in the darkness, because at some point he saw him come to life on the ceiling: his brain played the flashbacks and his eyes bore the image on the wood above; his ears thought they heard his low voice; his arms thought they felt the mattress dip, thought Todoroki joined him in bed.

On the ceiling, Todoroki grabbed his hand to make him bring the mango ice cream to his lips. His lips were so close. Pretty. Only shit he wanted.

Katsuki ended up taking a cold shower.

In other words, he tried to unravel the damn things. He did, but when he tried to straighten at least one of the strings, it eventually required him to pull out another from the fucking tangled mess. And that's not possible, so he stopped trying.

So, no, he doesn't mean to be thinking about Halfie, but he can't help it either. He sees shit that reminds him of the fucker everywhere he looks. Everything red. Everything white. Fuck his life if it's both red and white. (That's overkill.)

Worse, it doesn't stop at physical appearance.

For example, just a few days ago, he went out with the guys to do fuck all (which ended them up at an internet café for hours until Katsuki called it and went to do his daily night run before heading home). On their way, there were little children and their fucking great-great-great-great grandmother holding ice cream—It's summer; there's no escaping that.

But foolishly, for a second, Katsuki thought he could as his friends unknowingly distracted him with their loud presence, yet all it took was a turn of his head to see a kid holding ice cream in one tiny hand while her other wrapped around her parent's pinky, and his brain went spiralling to flashbacks of Todoroki. 

Or when his old hag called to tell him about her new craving. It's routine due to her big-ass sweet tooth, so he's used to getting calls out of nowhere to be told about which dessert her stomach wants (like it's a worry of his).

Then, as always, she slowly works up the pleas: "Oh, Katsuki, just make it, won't you? I'll get the ingredients, and you bake it. Seriously, you do it best."

(He knows he does it best. No one can deny the kitchen is his, but he's still not going to just cook whatever she fucking wants like he's her personal chef.)

He remembers mindlessly answering in return, small grunts now and then in response as he distractedly scrolls through his phone on the couch. Until he hears daifuku and then, eventually, red bean. Immediately, of course, his brain paints a perfect picture of the stupid red bean fish ice cream that Todoroki bought and didn't even finish. The stupid ice cream that he had to eat instead, which led to them exchanging treats, a gorgeous smile on Todoroki's face, his tongue, and—Todoroki, Todoroki, Todoroki.

"Hah?" Katsuki says into his phone, interrupting both the old hag and his train of thought. "What did you say?"

"You never listen," She scolds and he tries to fight the urge to roll his eyes at his screen. "I was saying, I'm craving daifuku. Let's make some, yes? With red bean."

Let's make some. He scoffs into the speaker and makes sure she can hear it. She talks like she's not going to merely throw the ingredients at him and then watch television while he does them himself.

"You want 'em homemade? Why this of all shit?" He shuts his eyes, killing a visual of Halfie's disgusted expression when he tried the fish ice cream for the first time. His scrunched nose almost made him look like a bunny, his red and white hair so fluffy. He didn't think the bastard could make such... expressive faces.

Katsuki's lips betray him, corners quirking up at the memory. He literally fights his facial muscles, trying to glare at his phone instead. "You even want the red bean from scratch. You do it yourself."

"Hey, when did you get so impolite, you brat? It's not that hard." The sound of a car's signal starts clicking from the other side. "I got the beans and everything. I'm almost home, so get yourself ready."

Katsuki loudly huffs before hanging up, not bothering to respond. It's not like she'll listen. She's stubborn as hell on a good day, and when her sweet tooth is in question, there's no changing what she says.

So, that's why he ends up in the kitchen, ingredients spread out on the counter and an apron wrapped around himself.

He stares at the almost-done red bean paste, cautiously licking some off the spoon to taste the state of the flavour.

It's a paste, for fuck's sake. It's only paste.

But the second it makes contact with his tongue, he's remembering the way he accidentally leaned in way too close to read the flavour of the fucking ice cream, the way Todoroki's lips were right there when he looked up—They were right there.

Then, Todoroki's cheeks went pink. 

Fuck.

The spoon slips from his fingers, clattering as it falls to the floor, a small pool of anko messily dripping from it.

Katsuki pulls away to put some needed space between them. Todoroki's pretty eyes stare at the ground, locked on the pebbles under their feet as he desperately cools the air with his quirk. It doesn't work; his cheeks only grow darker. "I thought it was chocolate."

He groans, cupping his warm face with his hands to hide his blush, even though no one else is in the fucking kitchen.

"Are you okay?" His old hag calls from the other side of the wall over the faint sound of the television. "What was that?"

"Nothin'," Katsuki splutters, face probably matching the shade of the fucking paste. "Just watch your fuckin' show!"

But fuck all of that. That was days ago. It's shameful for Bakugou Katsuki to be slain by red bean paste. This is not him. This is not the shit that's going to tear the foundation of his reputation.

And to make sure it won't, he's decided to use this frustrating pain in the ass as a tool. It took a couple of sleepless nights due to his brain not shutting up with images of Halfie, but eventually, a strategy was developed:

Katsuki told himself every time he thought of Halfie, he would run.

He would just—He would just fucking run. He would go on a fucking run until his lungs burn, until his sides hurt. Until his legs are sore and exhaustion is so strong it makes him forget the bastard.

That's why, at this very moment—two in the fucking morning—he's standing outside in the middle of an empty street. He can't see much because the street lights are fucking shitty and can only do so much, but he can make out enough of what's in front of him, so it's fine.

He rounds the corner, running under the trees. The absence of the sun lets faint wind rustle leaves, pebbles crackling under his feet. He fixes his headphones, which threaten to fall from his fast movement.

You know what's so fucking annoying?

That jackass looked so fucking eager when Katsuki gave his number, batting his long-ass lashes and all, asking, "So, can I text?" in this damn indescribable tone and dumb pretty eyes, and—and the fucker never texted. He didn't text during the last days of school or the summer. No, not once.

Did Katsuki really imagine it? Was he hallucinating things purely out of want? Did he say it monotonously, then? Did he add too much meaning to Todoroki hooking his foot over his, how he didn't pull away when Katsuki pressed their knees together? Did his forehead not grow warm when Katsuki pushed his hair out of his eyes?

His side hurts. He's starting to cramp. That's not normal. At least, it shouldn't happen this early.

Maybe from running so fast. Maybe—Maybe from the wasps in his stomach, the emptiness nipping at him.

That blush though. The blush that took over Todoroki's face was unmistakable—it fucked with his heart. The way he furiously lowered the temperature with his quirk. Katsuki couldn't have imagined Todoroki's hesitant tone, he didn't even know how that shit would sound until that day. He couldn't have imagined that. This one thing—This one thing at least, he didn't imagine.

Right?

Right?

Shit.

He didn't think he was running so fast. With a blink, he's registered the pain shooting through his legs every time his shoes hit the ground. Somehow, it doesn't compare to the one in his chest.

When the forgotten song fades out and welcomes the silence surrounding him, he can hear his harsh breathing, his loud presence being made known every time his soles hit the rocks.

Still, he ignores his shirt annoyingly clinging to his skin, the sweat dripping down his forehead and pooling on his inner elbows.

Still, he runs. He runs until his fucking lungs are on fire, until his heart is beating in his ears, until he's gasping for breath, and—And still, he thinks of Todoroki.

Even when his ribcage hurts like hell, when his body aches from its very bones, and his mouth is fighting for oxygen, he thinks of Todoroki.

What the fuck? What the fuck is he supposed to do?

Katsuki doesn't have anything more to give. He doesn't have anything more to offer. Please. Please.

♡ ♡ ♡

A shower was a good idea.

It's not like he feels resurrected or some shit, but at least he washed away the filth. (More like scrubbed the hell out of his body, frustration taking over.)

He opens the bathroom door, cool air barging in and shocking his skin but mentally kicks away the memory nipping at him from the back of his brain, and wraps a towel around his waist.

No one else is in the fucking house, which is not unusual—and kind of his preference—but, fuck it, having his old hag or man around would be so much fucking better than the vacancy.

So much fucking better than having his brain be so fucking loud.

When he gets to his room, he shuts the door anyway out of pure habit and slides the curtain of the window close, the room dimming as it's deprived of the bright, warm rays of the summer sun shining through the glass.

Sure, the house is all his but he doesn't want to accidentally flash his neighbours, thank you very much.

Maybe Kirishima wants to hang out today. Or Dunce Face. Fuck, at this point he's willing to ask to do something with Sero. Fuckin' bastard probably saw Halfie more than Katsuki did this summer.

He just can't be alone in this empty house. There is no fucking way he's going to make it out alive.

So, as one hand ruffles his wet hair dry with a towel, he unlocks his phone with the other in hopes of finding one of the guys planning something for the day.

Except there's a text already waiting for him.

It's an unknown number: Hi.

It sits there, taunting Katsuki, so very simple and short. And it's been there, he checks, for more than fifteen minutes.

Could this be Todoroki? Could it actually be the bastard? What kind of fucking timing does he have?

He stares at it, a hundred thoughts forming in milliseconds, and the text message stares right back.

He tries to type at his keyboard with yarn in his stomach, but his hand's too fucking damp and he can't tell if it's from the shower or the message has his quirk acting up—And if it's the latter then he is so, so fucked and all because of the fucking bastard. (Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.)

He impatiently wipes his hand with the towel and then practically punches at his keyboard again. This time, it works.

Bakugou: Is this you halfie?

Okay. Okay. That's over with, and he's not going to eagerly stare at his phone for a reply like a loser or a fucking puppy, so he does the sane thing and continues where he left off.

He lets the phone fall on the mattress and carries on with drying himself, even though his heart is beating so fucking loud and fast he thinks he should dial for an ambulance instead, and picks out something to wear.

There's a ding from the bed.

He doesn't run. Katsuki simply, slowly, and very, very casually pulls his head out from the closet and retreats to the side of the mattress to check. Again, very casually and in a normal fashion. Just to make that fucking clear.

Yes, this is Todoroki Shouto.

Amidst the butterflies swarming in his stomach, Katsuki laughs. Like, throws his head back and laughs.

So fucking formal.

It's not cute. It's not.

Katsuki saves his number before returning to their chat.

And, you know, he can't say what took you so fucking long, so instead, he shushes his heart and sends something else.

Bakugou: The hell you texted me for?

The response is immediate.

Halfie: I want ice cream.

What the fuck?

The bastard took fucking forever to reach out and this is the shit he has to fucking say?

Bakugou: Go get fucking ice cream then

The typing bubble pops up, only to disappear again.

Katsuki waits. It doesn't come back.

He eases his shoulders and gets up to grab an outfit like he was going to do before getting fucking distracted.

His ears don't pay more attention to a certain sound over the whirring of the fan in the room, or the shuffling noise as he puts on his clothes. They don't. 

It just happens to be that when he's no longer naked and he's grabbed a hairbrush, there's a notification sound.

He walks calmly.

Halfie: Together
Halfie: I want to get ice cream together

Fucking hell.

Fucking hell, the gates have opened in his stomach and there are swarms of butterflies everywhere.

Shit.

He throws his phone back on the bed rather aggressively. (He doesn't mean to, he doesn't, but his face is getting hot, and his hands are getting clammy, and—)

He stands in front of the mirror, ignores the fucking pink tinting his cheeks and starts working on his hair. He imagines he's punching Todoroki every time he drags the brush through because, somehow, it helps him calm down.

(Fuck you, take this, and that, and this again, and fuck you, you fucking bastard, you piece of shit, fuck you again, he pictures saying while beating the shit out of the asshole.)

Unsurprisingly, it works. His hair is done, and only then does he go back to his phone.

What the hell does he even say?

He dumbly eyes the screen, heart hammering in his ribcage as it shouts, we miss him, we miss him, don't fuck this up, we miss him.

So, he responds with the only correct option:

Bakugou: Now why the hell do you think we would get ice cream

You fucking blond dumbass bitch, his heart screams.

Halfie: Because we did before? And I want ice cream.
Halfie: We can get something else.
Halfie: Maybe lunch then?

Lunch? What the fuck? Is this a fucking date?

What the hell, it's not a fucking date, you stupid bitch. Why are you acting like you've never grabbed lunch with Kirishima?

But this is different. This is not Kirishima. This is not Tape Face or Kaminari. This is Todoroki, and Todoroki is—

Either way, something about getting food with Halfie, one-on-one, has him sweating, so there is no way in fucking hell or heaven they're gonna go to a restaurant.

The bastard will probably choose one solely by whether or not their menu includes cold soba, anyway.

The typing bubble comes up for a bit, disappears, then returns.

Halfie: Do you not want to

Panic shoots through him.

Bakugou: No
Bakugou: Shit wait
Bakugou: I meant no to lunch let's get ice cream

So much for not messing shit up.

Halfie: [GIF attached]

It's a cat. The happiest fucking cat Katsuki has ever seen, and it's kneading the air.

Halfie: Is in 2 hours fine?

What? They were talking about today? Like as in to-fucking-day? As in two fucking hours? He's going to see the bastard in two fucking hours?

Bakugou: I didn't eat shit yet
Bakugou: do you not have lunch halfie??
Bakugou: I bet you just fuckin woke up you lazy asshole

Halfie: I'm not lazy
Halfie: I just finished training and I'm about to shower.
Halfie: Is in 3 hours fine?

Don't tell me about your shower.

Bakugou: yeah
Bakugou: And eat some real food before we get ice cream so you don't break your fast with sugar

He can't help it, his fingers moved on their own. This feeling—It's crazy shit.

Halfie: OK.
Halfie: I will shower now and eat.

Stop talking about your fucking shower. Stop talking about it.

He's had enough glimpses in the locker room to imagine the scene, and his brain will create it faster than he can blink—And oh shit, he can already fucking see it.

Bakugou: I hope you fucking slip
Bakugou: And get a fucking concussion
Bakugou: And your dumb head cracks open and spills strawberry and vanilla yogurt twist all over the fuckin tub
Bakugou: Bitch

Halfie: Thank you, I will make sure to be careful.

Katsuki groans into his pillow like a teenage girl, face pink and brain full of only one damn thing.

♡ ♡ ♡

They settle on meeting at a konbini that's a fair distance from both of their houses.

He is so fucking happy the address he was sent wasn't an ice cream store, but a convenience store. Something so unofficial. Something even less than casual. They're meeting up to grab cheap-ass ice cream from a convenience store and walking around. Bastard says he knows a busy street he wants to show Katsuki. Katsuki doesn't reply to that, wonders what could be left to show when Todoroki's already shown him so much.

He's a bit early. This isn't a fucking dentist appointment, but his legs moved on their own and started leading his body to their other half.

Which, when Katsuki rounds the corner, finds leaning against the wall of the konbini, waiting.

Todoroki's wearing a dark red button-up shirt, except it's completely open, revealing a thin, white shirt underneath. The red sleeves are pooled at his elbows, rolled up to show the rest of his arms.

He glances up from his phone—not at Katsuki; he can't see him—and stares ahead before carelessly running a hand through his colourful hair, brushing the strands back.

The yarn in Katsuki's stomach shifts a bit. Bounces against his intestines, threads tangling more.

He's right there.

The asshole looks like he came out of a magazine. A summer special edition people would buy the hell out of. Some bitch definitely came up and tried to shoot her shot.

His heart pushes his feet to walk toward Todoroki, even when his brain protests, but it's not like he can turn around and run back home.

So, he lets himself cross the distance and stands beside him, a respectable space between them. Short, yet so fucking far.

Halfie quickly turns his head to him, mismatched eyes wandering all over his face. The air immediately cools around them.

"Bakugou," His lips move with the name. A small smile takes over, slipping his phone away without taking his eyes off Katsuki's. "You're early, too."

Yeah, I missed you.

It sits at the tip of his tongue but from the pit of his heart. Ready. Eager. Too honest.

"Was there a girl here?" Katsuki asks instead, stuffing his restless hands into his pockets, afraid they might reach out to Todoroki and pull him close.

His brows furrow, pretty eyes tearing away to scan their surroundings. "No."

Bullshit.

There is no way you were standing like that and no one approached you.

"Should there be? I told you, it's just us." He adds when the blond huffs.

"Yeah, never mind." Katsuki turns around and opens the door to the store, aware of Halfie following right behind.

He hasn't been here, but it makes sense for the noisy-ass ice cream freezers to be at the back, so he wastes no time walking through the aisles.

Bingo.

Two freezers full of ice cream.

He hovers over the one on the right.

Todoroki stands beside him, their sides ghosting on each other. Katsuki has to stop himself from leaning onto the body on his left.

"Wow, so many flavours." A deadpan tone accompanies a phrase that should be said expressively, as usual.

Katsuki looks at him, at the red and white strands falling over his vision from gravity. 

A familiar scene.

His hand itches to recreate it.

He doesn't. Instead, he looks away and eyes their choices.

Fuck.

What a pathetic front. He's not even here for the fucking ice cream.

It's funny. It's funny, he almost laughs.

The freezer's door suddenly slides open, and he pulls his hands away from the glass so his fingers don't get stuck through the crack, caught off-guard.

An ice cream sandwich is shoved in front of his face, Todoroki's other hand closing the freezer again.

"Do you like this?"

Katsuki slowly flicks his eyes to it, only after drinking in Todoroki's patient, expectant expression. The eyes focused right on him, waiting.

It's a sandwich. The biscuits are monaka wafers, hugging a huge amount of vanilla ice cream, but there's a thin sheet of chocolate in between the white. 

"No."

Halfie frowns.

"You gotta bite 'em and it hurts my teeth," Katsuki explains in an attempt to salvage the situation, to rid the knot in his stomach from the simple sight of Todoroki's disappointment. "So I don't like sandwiches."

"Oh," Fucker says, the arm holding the sandwich going slack. "You ate the fish one for me."

"Yeah, and that's not happenin' another fuckin' time."

"No. I wasn't going to make you eat another." His face does this thing, this expression like he's filing a piece of information away to the back of his head. For later inspection, later assessment. "I was just saying. You ate one for me."

He wants to defensively reply, an anxious feeling bubbling up his throat as if Todoroki's tiny-ass realization would be enough to expose his feelings. But he's stuck.

"I don't think it would hurt mine," He continues, gaze thoughtfully contemplating the other treats like Katsuki isn't one slip-up away from a panic attack. "I'm unsure about regulating the temperature of my teeth, but I'd be able to do the rest of my mouth."

"Yeah? Good for you." Katsuki looks away with a sniff, an attempt to seem nonchalant, trying not to dwell on the idea. The image. The possibilities. "Such a good-ass quirk." 

The pads of the bastard's fingers start to gently tap the glass, just enough to make a small noise, ignoring the sarcasm. "So, you don't like it?"

"No," Frowning, Katsuki crosses his arms, tone more impatient than irritated. He can't find it in himself to gather some genuine anger when all he feels is yearning. "Are you not fuckin' listenin'?"

"Okay." He stops the rhythm his fingers created and slides the door open to put the sandwich back. "Then, I won't get it."

Katsuki blinks. "What?"

"What, what?"

"Why'd you put it back?"

Halfie tilts his head to the side a bit, lips drawn into something similar to a frown. "Because we're sharing. How are we going to share if you don't like my choice?"

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Says it like how the grass is green. Like how the moon and stars come out at night. How Todoroki's beauty is immeasurable, irresistible to anyone.

A tiny flame wakes in Katsuki's chest. It was bound to come to life whether he wanted it to or not, so he pushes on anyway. Shifts his weight to the other foot, and crosses his arms tighter. "You're not even tryna hide how much of a greedy asshole you are anymore."

Todoroki shrugs, grabbing another ice cream. He twirls it in his hand, eyes inspecting it before lifting it for Katsuki to see. "This, then."

It's a chocolate cone with soft serve on top, coloured a light shade of purple. The picture covering the packaging case claims there's a sprinkle of small, dried lavender petals on the very top. It's probably only for the aesthetic, though.

Katsuki furrows his brows. "That's lavender."

"Wow, you can read." The dipshit deadpans.

Katsuki thinks of throwing a punch to his perfect, sharp jaw and bruising the perfect, smooth skin, but he holds back. There's something holding him back. "Why do you have shit taste?"

Todoroki raises an eyebrow, offering a challenge on the table. "Have you ever had lavender ice cream before?"

He doesn't want to lose. But he's not a liar either, so he bites his lip, spits it out anyway. All bitterly and begrudgingly. "No."

There's a satisfied grin threatening to take over Todoroki's mouth, even when the fucker looks so done with Katsuki. It reassures him in some way that this is the way they communicate: an unspoken dynamic they fell into, one they mutually let themselves be moulded by; a language they've created for themselves, their fluency deeming it as their mother tongue.

But Halfie doesn't smile, feigns annoyance instead. "Then, don't say shit."

Katsuki drops his arms to frustratingly gesture at the bastard with an open hand. "It's gonna taste like shit." 

And then, then, the fucking jackass actually says, "Don't be picky."

Okay. Nevermind. Turns out there is some anger in him. The anger is here. It's fucking here.

This fucking piece of shit.

"Me? Picky?" Katsuki scoffs, a laugh of disbelief ready to bubble out. "You bein' fuckin' serious right now? I ain't the one who couldn't handle a li'l fuckin' anko."

"I don't like it frozen." It's said with a huff, muttered with annoyance, pretty lips frowning and—and the view melts Katsuki's irritation.

Todoroki could be such a brat. Picky and hypocritical, too. Cute, not only hot.

(Is it a blessing or a curse is the fucking question.)

"Yeah?" Annoyance leaves his tone, gentleness stripping it bare and making it calm. Katsuki drops the accusing gesture and stuffs his hands in his pockets, offering a truce. "Should've defrosted it with your quirk, then."

"It doesn't work like that." Accepting the proposal, Todoroki raises the stupid lavender ice cream again. "So?"

"Just get it, asshole."

"Sure." The bastard sets it on the side before reaching into the freezer. He glides his hand along the treats, and the wrappers make a crinkling noise as they shift from the light touch of his fingers.

The flame grows, screams. Or maybe it's his heart begging to be the plastic instead.

"You want this?"

Yeah. So fucking much.

Katsuki realizes the question's directed to something else when he looks up, a chocolate soft serve ice cream sitting on top of a classic cone in Todoroki's hand.

Wow. Finally, something that doesn't sound atrocious.

"That's better, Halfie." Katsuki takes it from his hand, careful not to touch his fingers because he's not sure he'll be able to let go if given the chance. "Guess you've redeemed yourself."

Todoroki hums in response, following the blond to the front. It takes a second, but he eventually realizes that he's about to tap Endeavor's card against the payment terminal.

"The fuck are you doin'?" Katsuki raises his hand to pull his arm away but stops mid-action. Thankfully, Todoroki pauses anyway, giving him a confused look.

"Paying."

"You're not payin'."

Look, there's something about the idea of Halfie paying for both of them when they're doing this alone. Sure, he paid every time they went to get ice cream for their classmates, but that was a class thing. A whole group thing. Not just them two. Not—Not Todoroki paying for only Katsuki.

It makes sense in his head. Okay? So fucking shut up. It makes sense. But this situation doesn't; it makes his stomach stir instead, giving a hollow feeling like before a drop on a roller-coaster.

"You're not payin'," Katsuki repeats, hurriedly grabbing his wallet from his back pocket. "I'll pay."

"Oh." Todoroki tilts his head again, a pout almost taking the shape of those pretty lips, and Katsuki wants him to fucking change the expression because the clerk is staring at them. "Why?"

"Just fuckin'—Fuckin' listen to me, yeah?" Katsuki finally manages to grab the thin cash through the fucking tight-ass pockets of the stupid wallet and—

There's a beep.

He looks at Todoroki.

Todoroki, who has Endeavor's card pressed against the machine. It flashes a green arrow, finishing the transaction, and he pulls the card away before grabbing their ice cream from the clerk with a polite nod.

He really hates this guy.

"You never fuckin' listen, do you?" Katsuki glares, following him out of the store anyway. "What the hell did I say, asshole?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Halfie pops open the plastic lid off the chocolate ice cream and holds it out for the blond. "I don't think it matters."

Katsuki stares at him. Looks down at the ice cream then back up into pretty eyes, with a glare. But he could only hold it so much when presented with such a scene: Todoroki's outstretched arm offering chocolate heaven. A peace offering. And what a fucking fool he'd be if he rejects Todoroki Shouto's hand.

So, he doesn't. 

"Whatever. Just listen to me next time." He grabs the ice cream, accidentally but not unpleasantly touching Todoroki's fingers in the process, and the fucker smiles. Shows pearl white teeth. A flashback to the first day they went out together like this, a flashback that haunts him constantly. 

There's another pop as Todoroki takes off the lid from the lavender ice cream, almost gaping at the sight. Well, gaping in a Todoroki Shouto way, but there are signs to pick up on, subtle movements of his features that are hard for Katsuki to miss. No, not when he stares at Todoroki all the time. Not when his face is engraved in his mind.

He can't say you look cute like that, with that twinkle in his blue and grey eyes and the mix of admiration and fascination seeping into his pretty face, so he fixes his expression instead. Nods his chin up at Todoroki. "What's up with you?"

"This looks pretty."

So do you. So do you. You always do.

But, still. If a frozen treat is what has Todoroki like this, then it is what it is. So he tears his gaze away from the pretty bastard and observes the dessert instead.

(Well, technically, Todoroki fits the criteria for a dessert too, but—)

The cone's tall, biscuit dark brown. It's chocolate, texture rough with patterns. For the ice cream, it looked light purple back inside the store, but now that they're outside the bright sun has made it almost white. It's smooth, a beautiful swirl that sits perfectly on the cone, and at the top, there are dried lavender petals. 

It wasn't only for the aesthetic, after all.

"That's 'cause it's soft serve." Katsuki watches him throw the lids in the garbage bin outside the store. "Soft serve usually looks better."

Todoroki replies with something (nothing, more accurately, with the soft way it was said, as if dismissing the new piece of information), eyes stuck on the lavender ice cream before slowly leaning in and licking along the direction of the swirl. He pulls away to clean the purple residue from his lips with his tongue, but the view is already stored in Katsuki's brain.

"You like it?" He manages to ask despite the flame growing, roaring.

"Yeah," Todoroki aims higher this time, taking a petal in his mouth. "It's good."

"You're such a liar."

"I'm not lying. Try it."

The asshole doesn't even wait for an answer, gently shoving the ice cream in his face, mere centimetres from his mouth. 

Katsuki looks at him, but mismatched eyes are on his lips. "Don't want to."

"Don't be stubborn." He would've yelled at the bastard for saying that any other time, but the words have no bite, almost hushed. Todoroki's eyes don't even bother to leave his lips while responding. It creates butterflies everywhere. Everywhere in his fucking stomach. "Just try it."

So, he does.

He crosses the short distance between the treat and his mouth to lick the soft ice cream. It melts in his mouth instantly, the lavender flavour far from overwhelming. Or maybe his brain is too busy for his tongue to register the taste, eyes watching Todoroki's gaze on his mouth.

He pulls away, subtly licking his bottom lip to rid it of the purple. "You can keep the fuckin' petals."

"What?" Todoroki takes his eyes off Katsuki's mouth to meet red eyes instead. He blinks, clearing his throat. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Okay."

What the actual fuck?

Katsuki stares at him with furrowed brows, trying to see what the hell is up with this guy and—And spots the faint pink tinting his cheeks. Todoroki looks away, mumbling something, the colour getting darker.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

"So, you've been training, yes?" The strangled but steady voice cuts through the ringing in his ear.

There are too many fucking thoughts crowding his head at the moment to get himself together in between all the fucking nausea flowing through his body, let alone develop a fucking answer. (What the hell, he didn't imagine that, did he? Did he?)

"What?" Katsuki grimaces but manages to get his footing straight when they start to walk side by side. The bastard said something. Asked something. What was it? "Oh, obviously. Everyday. If you think you're gonna beat me then dream on."

(Halfie was staring at his lips. Right? That reaction... It wasn't his imagination. Maybe? Is he just going completely crazy at this point? Can you become deranged from these shitty feelings? Schizophrenic?)

Todoroki pauses licking his ice cream to press his lips into a thin line, a soft, frustrated sigh leaving the pretty mouth. "That's not it, Bakugou."

Katsuki watches him collect his thoughts. He wonders if he always had trouble expressing himself. (If so, it wouldn't be a fucking surprise.) Katsuki's not one to talk though; he's not better off. Not like verbal communication was ever his forte. 

There are words stuck in his throat, too. A lump of questions, wishes. Compliments and confessions. He licks the chocolate soft serve, lets the ice cream push it all down before they make it to the tip of his tongue.

"I was wondering how you were doing," The bastard finally says with some emotion Katsuki can't place. "Friends do that."

The yarn tightens.

"I told you, we're not—"

"So what are we doing here together, then?" This tone he knows. Stern, almost irritated.

I don't fucking know. What are we doing here together? What are we doing?

"Don't interrupt me, Halfie." Katsuki looks away and stares at the trees ahead. At the sparkling chocolate in his hand. It's melting. They just got it and it's melting. "Yeah, I've been trainin'. Workin' out."

Todoroki nods in the corner of his vision, satisfied with the cooperation as he takes another small lick of lavender. "Like what?"

"Everythin'. Mostly at the gym, but if shit doesn't work out, then at home." Katsuki swallows. "A lotta runnin'."

He quickly lifts his head from the cold treat like he's remembered something interesting, and the sudden movement almost makes Katsuki jump. "Oh yes, you always run in the morning." 

It used to be just the morning. It used to be. You've got me so fucked up.

"Yeah," He mutters instead, half-heartedly busying himself with the ice cream, a frown tugging at his mouth.

"This heat is really strong, though. You should be careful."

He almost thinks it's his imagination. A hallucination powered by severe want. But when he looks to his left, Todoroki's thoughtfully staring at the clear sky, genuineness laced in his deep voice. "Working out too much in this weather can be dangerous, Bakugou."

He nearly stops walking, the pit of his stomach running so fucking warm and it spreads everywhere. He wants to be angry that the bastard thinks he needs his fucking reminder but the words shake his core, stir his intestines up. Wake something deep in him.

"I can't always be there to cool you from a heat stroke." There it is. Back to normal. Back to familiar territory, one Katsuki doesn't have to tread carefully; Todoroki's wearing that one expression when he can't help but show how much of a fucking nuisance he is. (Although, it probably looks like his usual stoic one, but not to Katsuki. Katsuki knows.)

"Shut the hell up, asshole." He snaps, meeting heterochromatic eyes. "You're so fuckin' annoyin'. You think a li'l heat will beat me? I don't need your shitty-ass quirk."

Todoroki raises an eyebrow, and the view feeds the fire. Katsuki might punch him. He really might punch him, right there on his perfect jaw.

He tilts his head to the side. "Don't be silly, Bakugou. You do need me."

That's it.

Katsuki stops walking to kick the bastard and make him trip before pushing him into the street and hoping a big-ass truck or an elephant runs him over, but Todoroki knows him, dodges the attack with a short, breathy laugh.

Shit, the flame roars at the noise, bursts stronger in his chest with a vicious sound.

Now surged with overwhelming emotions and a new urge to hurt the dickhead, Katsuki tries kicking him again without dropping the ice cream in his hand, but Todoroki swerves and reaches a hand out in defence. "Stop, stop, Bakugou, our ice cream will fall."

Desperation and amusement colour a voice he is used to being nothing but monotonous. It shouldn't surprise him every single damn time since this has been occurring more lately, but it does. (It catches him off-guard, travels into one ear and stays there, replaying the tune in his eardrums until it's the sole thing he hears.)

The fingers of the outstretched hand almost graze the thin fabric of his shirt, his chest, but it never does no matter how much Katsuki wants to feel the touch, to engrave the sensation into every nerve in his body.

Halfie's arm finally retreats when he realizes the short-tempered boy has shown rare mercy, something close to the aftermath of laughter accompanying his words. "You are so easy to anno—Stop, stop, my ice cream." He quickly turns his back to Katsuki when a sound akin to fireworks sets off on heated palms. 

The asshole is spewing more annoyed yet desperate remarks. (Something about, "I thought you were taking anger management classes" and, "I just want to eat my ice cream".)

But that doesn't matter. He's finally out of Todoroki's field of view, so he might as well try to get his shit together. Collect his thoughts and calm his heart. Pour some fucking water on the conflagration and take deep breaths.

Fuck, if Kirishima saw his pink ears he'd probably never let him hear the end of it.

He stares at how red and white hair falls perfectly on a soft nape, lets his eyes wander around Todoroki's back, the red button-up looking so fucking good when the guy already has so much red on him.

He's so close. He's right there, only a few steps away still fucking talking.

He watches Todoroki's shoulders, so tense they rise to his ears. It's funny. Cute, that he thinks simply facing away would protect his ice cream. Still, Katsuki stops his quirk, the threatening crackles dying off.

Halfie stops monotonously reciting a persuasive essay on why he shouldn't be blown up and takes a breath at the silence. "Are you going to blast me?"

Katsuki puts his hand in his pocket, the other holding the chocolate ice cream steady. The overflowing yearning neutralized the angry fire, and returned it to a flame—Momentarily clipped the wings of the wild butterflies in his stomach.

He's calm now. Not completely, but not on the verge of exploding one of them either, so it's an improvement. Still, he fakes an irritated tone. "Maybe."

"I'm going to turn around and you won't blast the ice cream." A pause. "Or me."

"Sure."

"Bakugou."

He doesn't think Todoroki's said his name so much in little time. In so many tones. Can someone get delirious from hearing their name being said by their—

He's so fucked.

"I'm not gonna blast your fuckin' ice cream, Halfie. Just stop bein' an annoyin' li'l shit."

"I'm not annoying. Or a little shit."

"Don't lie to yourself."

"I'm turning around," He announces before cautiously facing Katsuki again, revealing the ice cream he's cradling like it's his source of life.

Todoroki sends him what looks like a glare if not his usual unreadable expression, but relaxes his shoulders when the blond simply responds with an eye-roll.

"I've been training, too." He resumes the conversation as if there wasn't a... commercial break. "Iida sometimes asks to do stuff together. We swim a lot. It's a good workout, but it's difficult to get the water out of his engine."

Katsuki hums in response, mindlessly eating the chocolate in an attempt to show disinterest even though his ears are hanging to every syllable. Images of a shirtless Todoroki with damp hair play in his brain.

And Four Eyes being there to see that shit in person.

(Why has everyone been hanging out with Todoroki but him? Why? Why didn't Todoroki text him?)

"You should come visit my mom with me, Bakugou."

A lump of chocolate almost goes down the wrong tube, nearly sending him into a coughing fit.

"Hah?" He bewilderedly stares at a nonchalant face. "Where the hell did that shit even come from?"

Todoroki shrugs, licking a stray purple droplet from the rim of the cone. "I get to visit her more in the summer but I don't have much to share. I think she'll have me stop visiting if I tell her I trained one more time. And, she would like to see you."

Katsuki doesn't dwell on the fact that Todoroki Shouto tried to say a joke (though credit has to be given where it's due, and Halfie's definitely getting better). No, his brain sticks to something else.

She would like to see you.

She would like to see you.

My mom would like to see you.

Katsuki is being tried today. He is being beyond tested. His sanity is in question and Todoroki controls the fucking answer.

Chill. Fucking calm down. Halfie wants you to see his mom, so fuckin' what? The world's not ending. It's not like you're getting her fucking blessing or some shit.

(Should he?)

He focuses on his ice cream, on eating it for the sake of a distraction and nothing else. The damn flavour's not even getting registered anymore. 

"You talk to her 'bout me?" Hell, yeah. Perfect execution: tone casual, face neutral. The question is said in a way that almost makes it seem rhetorical.

"Yeah," Todoroki turns his head to him and the second they connect eyes, his heart hurts at the sunlight shining in those pretty blue and grey. "I do."

Katsuki opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, but the next words don't come from him.

"I want to switch." Todoroki presses the lavender ice cream to Katsuki's free hand, and it takes a good minute for him to respond to the action, accidentally limply wrapping his hand around Todoroki's without actually taking the cone.

There's just so much shit going on, goddamn, okay? So, shut the fuck up and give him a fucking break.

Eventually—Eventually, his fucking mind loads and accepts the trade, letting the chocolate treat be taken away from his other hand.

Todoroki starts to walk again once he's satisfied with the exchange before Katsuki follows instinctively. He doesn't even have a damn clue where the fuck they're headed or where they've been headed this whole fucking time (but his legs blindly comply, a magnetic force between their bodies convinces his heart its other half lies with Todoroki).

"Did anyone tell you you're fuckin' bossy?" Katsuki inspects the new treat in his hand, the ice cream halfway done. Well, both of them are, at this point. He's not necessarily aware of time when the bastard's with him, in the flesh and not a fucking memory. "The others will never believe me if I tell 'em how much of a brat you are."

"I get it from you." Halfie glides his tongue along the faint swirl outline of the soft serve. Or, whatever is fucking left of it anyway. "Bakugou, do you not know how to properly eat ice cream? You ruined the pretty shape."

The fucker actually sounds annoyed. Katsuki watches him "fix" it, his tongue reforming the pattern, lips going everywhere his once were.

Oh, yeah. The butterflies regained their fucking wings, alright.

"Don't be so damn picky—it doesn't fuckin' matter," He grumbles, eating the rest of the lavender. He makes sure to ruin the pattern Halfie has been religiously maintaining. (It's not like they're going to trade again, anyway.)

It's a pretty nice change, from powerful chocolate to such a vague, simple flavour. There's no more of the petals left; the bastard took them all. Katsuki likes to think he did it out of greed and not because the blond said he didn't like them.

"Where the hell are we goin'?" He manages to finally ask a crucial question that's long overdue, the biscuit of the cone crunching when he nips at its edge.

"Oh, the street market nearby. There's always new stuff." Todoroki takes more ice cream in his mouth. "And so many cats because of the fish stall."

Katsuki pauses chewing a piece of the cone to stare at him. "Street market? You go to... street markets?"

"Yes." Maybe Todoroki senses the sudden attention on him because he stops eating too, to return the look. "Fuyumi likes to get certain ingredients from there."

Katsuki grins. He doesn't mean to, but fascination wins, because, what the hell, why has he never thought of Todoroki Shouto going to street markets?

"What?"

"Nothin', just—She buys ingredients from there?" Katsuki tries to focus on his ice cream again, eating the leftover lavender hiding in the narrow part of the cone, but for some reason, the new image presented to him is too interesting and strange for him not to entertain. "I mean, like, you're rich. You can buy a whole damn grocery store or some shit if you wanna."

"Fuyumi says sometimes there are ingredients that are best from traditional street markets. It's not about the price. I think supporting them is better, anyway." Something flickers through Todoroki's face. He quiets for a second, a quick flash of teeth timidly biting his bottom lip before they're gone. "Why? Do you... Do you think I flaunt our money?"

"What?" Katsuki furrows his brows. "No, Halfie, I don't fuck with snobby shits. Was just wonderin'."

"Oh," Relief casts a shadow of a small smile on the corner of his lips. He turns to his dessert again. "There are cats there."

"Yeah, you said that."

"They like me."

"Good, at least someone does."

"They remind me of you, Bakugou."

"Hah?" Katsuki doesn't mean to shout, he doesn't, but all the blood rushes to his face. Then, more calmly, "What—What the hell does that mean?"

Todoroki doesn't even bat an eye at him. "It's hot in the summer. They stick to my right side, too."

Fuck.

Katsuki trails his eyes away, trying not to lose himself in the image his brain created: Todoroki sitting with a bunch of stray cats huddled to his right for cool air. Purring and cuddling up against him.

The yarn compresses.

"Oh," Katsuki finishes up the ice cream, chucking the last part of the cone in his mouth. "No one would say no to free air conditionin', Halfie."

He thinks he sees Todoroki's figure shake a bit, but nothing comes out. Only a smile in his voice. He wishes he could hear the laughter, too. "Air conditioning? Am I an air conditioner?"

"Yeah, you are. Why do you think I joined you when you went to get ice cream?"

Something shifts. In the air. In the guy next to him. Todoroki swallows the remaining part of the treat, clapping his hands together to rid them of the dry flour from the biscuit. "I'm thirsty."

What the hell?

You know what, whatever.

"It's all that damn sugar." Katsuki puts his hands in his pocket, watching their feet move in sync now that there's no food to distract him.

"Do you have water?"

He scrunches his face. "Does it look like I got water?"

The dumbass actually gives him a once-over.

"I don't have water, dipshit." Katsuki kicks a pebble as they walk. "We're almost there, aren't we? We'll just buy one there."

He peeks to his left to see pretty lips frown.

God fucking dammit.

Katsuki defeatedly looks up at the sky with shut eyes and heaves the biggest fucking sigh he's ever had to do in his life. He slowly rubs his face with his hands, hoping whoever is watching from above gives him a helping hand, some fucking strength.

"Okay, look." He puts his hands away to find Todoroki watching him, either confused or intrigued. "There's, like, vending machines everywhere. I'm sure we'll find one—"

"Oh," Todoroki very rudely interrupts him as they turn the corner. "There's some right there."

I'm a fucking genius.

As they approach the machines, Katsuki can see that two of them are filled with a shit ton of drinks. Such bright colours and fun flavours that suit the summer, but their goal is plain old water. The third machine has a tiny-ass variety of ice cream.

Yeah, no thanks.

Halfie takes the machine on the left to see if it has water. Katsuki goes to the other one.

It's things like this. It's simple shit that has him spiral further. How they understand each other, wordlessly communicate. It's like Todoroki's in his head. He is in his head, for fuck's sake. All the damn time.

"Here," Katsuki says when he spots the bottled water in the corner amidst the juice and coffee.

Todoroki's instantly at his side, arms brushing as he scans Endeavor's card and taps the code for the bottle. It falls into the pick-up box with a loud noise. He doesn't get it; Halfie can get his own stuff.

"Hot," Todoroki says when he retrieves it.

"Dunno what you were expectin'. Hot weather, hot machine."

Lukewarm water isn't the end of the world, but some cold water going down his throat would be so good right now.

There's a little hissing sound as Todoroki holds the bottle in his right hand, and Katsuki watches how the water moves a bit as it changes temperature, condensation starting to form on the outside of the plastic.

Halfie looks at him with a smile, like he's done something real smart (which he has, and it was so fucking hot and hypnotic).

Katsuki scoffs, "Sly bastard."

His eyes are stuck. They're stuck, observing Todoroki drink the water like a man stranded in a desert finding an oasis, but he looks nothing but an elegant prince. Even when some of the water falls from his mouth to his chin, drops cascading down the curve of his throat and collarbone before they soak the hem of the shirt.

His eyes follow the trail the liquid made, watching the white fabric turn see-through as it starts to cling to skin he's aching to touch. (Can he touch? Please, just one fucking touch.)

Shit.

He's thirsty too. Fucking dehydrated.

Todoroki pulls his lips away and lightly shakes the bottle. "You want?"

Yes. Yes, I want. So bad, so fucking bad.

"You drank the whole damn thing." He crosses his arms across his chest instead, trying to frown when the fire inside him is no longer tame, setting him ablaze. "What are you offerin' me, a single molecule?"

Todoroki turns around. Taps the card again and the code. Another bottle falls to the slot, and he picks it up before offering it to the blond. "Here."

Katsuki blinks.

"What the—I didn't tell you to buy me shit. I got money, y'know." He pulls out his wallet from his back pocket to make a point. Whatever fucking point it's supposed to be. "Money I was gonna use to buy us ice cream, but you have spiderwebs where your brain's supposed to be and didn't fuckin' listen."

"Yes. Now I bought this, so take it." Todoroki throws it at his chest and Katsuki instinctively catches it.

The bastard starts to walk away.

Katsuki glares at the back of his head, so many emotions going through him. So many but none are hostile even though he wants to chuck the bottle at him in frustration.

"I'll make a fuckin' dent in your head, motherfucker."

Todoroki doesn't even look back. "Yeah, just come here. I'll cool it for you."

And Katsuki goes there, because who the hell is he to refuse that?

♡ ♡ ♡

There are all kinds of clashing smells around them. Raw fish, fresh batter turned into sweets, flowers, and meat cooking over a supervised fire fill their nostrils. And so much fucking noise.

That's a street market, alright.

Typically it would be way busier, but considering the weather, people may be waiting for the sun to retreat before strolling the streets of Japan. Aren't street markets more boisterous during the night, anyway?

Katsuki's not one to complain about the lack of a crowd, so this atmosphere is more than fine. Even though having more people would probably force Todoroki to stick closer to him. (Still, beggars can't be choosers.)

They pass a stall of fruits and vegetables when Todoroki stops in front of one full of traditional crafts, a collection of colourful fans on display.

Burying his hands in his pockets, he walks over to stand next to him. The woman doesn't notice them yet, talking to a customer on the other side.

"You're into this shit, Halfie?" Katsuki softly asks, watching the one he seems to have his eyes on.

The paper of the fan is a fiery red while the sticks are white, providing contrast. There's a lion in the middle, striking a fierce pose with his paws in the air, roaring. There's a shit-ton of detail in limited space: the fluff in his mane and the shading of yellow and brown on his body, down to his sharp, white teeth matching his claws. It's beautiful.

Maybe Katsuki doesn't walk around carrying a fan—or any kind for that matter—but he can appreciate the fine, traditional craft.

"Not really," Todoroki says, finally tearing his eyes away to look at Katsuki. "But, I like that one a lot. It's stunning."

Stunning.

Must've really caught his attention, huh?

"What vocabulary you have there." Katsuki pulls out his wallet and flips through the slits for the correct amount of cash. "Tell her you want it when she finishes, alright?"

"What?" Todoroki catches on. "No, not for me."

"What?" Katsuki pauses to look back up at him. "Then, who? I don't think this is your sister's type, Halfie. I mean maybe somethin' with flowers or a stream—"

"For you."

What?

"It reminds me of you." Todoroki glances away as the woman bids the customer goodbye and turns to them. "I think it suits you."

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

Fuck, this is too much for one day. It's too much, his stomach is flipping and his intestines are getting abused by the flutter of butterflies and—

"This one, please." He hears him say to the woman, pulling out money. They exchange polite words and payment, but he can't move, still holding his wallet open.

A couple steals the merchant's attention as Todoroki turns to him with a small bag. "Here. Be careful, she wrapped the fan with paper, but still. The stand for it is in there, too."

Katsuki absent-mindedly accepts the gift—the gift—and slowly puts his wallet away. "This... For me? Why?"

"I told you, it reminds me of you."

"An aggressive lion?" Katsuki asks, confusion hindering his tone to uncharacteristically quiet. "You sayin' I'm aggressive, Halfie?"

"You can be, but no, that's not what I meant." Todoroki starts to slowly walk them through the lively market, and he follows even when lost in a trance. "Lions symbolize strength, royalty, and protection. Do you not read literature, Bakugou?"

The bastard is saying it like it's nothing. As if it's that simple; a train of thought that led to the blond, so he bought it. But Katsuki's heart is beating so fast in his ears, it's drowning out the chatter around them.

He hangs his head low, looking at the bag in his hands.

It's stunning.

It reminds me of you.

He looks back up at Todoroki. The faint breeze plays with his hair now that the sun is starting to leave. His sharp jaw. His smooth skin. His beautiful eyes trail around as he takes in the stands, but Katsuki's watching him instead. His lips.

I want to kiss you.

I want to kiss you, Shouto.

He doesn't notice that they've stopped in front of another stall, or the smell of chicken sizzling on charcoal shoved up his nose until a familiar voice speaks.

"Are you hungry, Bakugou?"

He blinks to find Todoroki patiently waiting for him. Heterochromatic eyes wander everywhere on his figure with a mix of unknown emotions, it almost makes him feel insecure.

"Do you want yakitori?" The smooth, low voice cuts through everything again because his ears will always listen for it.

Is he hungry?

How long has it been?

They've been together for so long, the sun's going down. (Can they stay like this for a bit more?)

He tries to get a sense of how he's feeling other than the drum of his heart hammering or the smoke of the fire inside him. The yarn still tangled and sitting.

"Yeah," Katsuki carries the bag in his other hand to get money out. "I'll pay."

"Can we get some for the cats, too?"

Anything for you.

♡ ♡ ♡

"You really weren't kiddin', Halfie." Katsuki focuses on the cats eating from the chicken skewer Todoroki's holding out for them. He's crouching, a cat slumped against his right side, enjoying the cold from his quirk.

The other two cats are sharing the yakitori in Halfie's hand. "They are cute."

Not cuter than you.

"Hold this for a second." He gives the skewer to Katsuki, who crouches beside him so the cats can continue to eat.

There's a loud sound as Todoroki hovers his hand over the ground, forming a medium-sized bowl out of ice. The shape's not neatly round nor perfect, but it serves its purpose as he pours three water bottles they bought earlier from a stall into it.

One of the two cats eating, a grey American shorthair, abandons the blond to go drink from the cold bowl.

"You sly bastard," Katsuki grins in disbelief because this is the guy he's down in the gutters for. "You live up to the title more than I thought."

Todoroki smiles at him, all genuine and soft. "I can't help it. It's hot and they're strays. It helps cool the water I give them, so..."

"I won't tell." He looks away to watch the orange cat stop taking apart the last piece of chicken to nibble on the wooden skewer like a dumbass. "Nothin' bad 'bout it."

Halfie gently pets the grey cat as it drinks, and the white one resting against him gets up to slowly stretch, a huge yawn boasting pathetic canines. Katsuki could beat those.

Once it stops obnoxiously stretching for a long-ass time, it blinks at Katsuki, at the skewer the orange one is abusing, then approaches the bag carefully placed on the ground near them.

It starts aggressively sniffing it like the damn thing is filled with anything but a mere fan, then it opens its mouth, ready to chew on the—

"Oh, hell, no." Katsuki yanks the bag away, making the cat dramatically jump all the way to the fucking clouds. "Not yours."

Todoroki laughs. Like, shoulders-shaking-twice laughs. Like, a beautiful-smile-on-his-face laughs.

"Fuck are you laughin' at?" Katsuki nods upward at him. "The idiot was gonna ruin the present."

"I thought you didn't like it, Bakugou."

"I never said that. Don't put words in my mouth."

"Since you like it, you will use it, yes?" Todoroki softly scratches the grey cat's head when it leans further into his touch. (Please, let that be him.) "I got it because it reminded me of you, but you can also use it when I'm not there."

"I don't think a fan is gonna be able to replace you."

Todoroki stops petting the cat. Looks up at him, like Katsuki's grown horns. Just stares.

Fuck.

Did that sound too much like a confession?

But it's barely anything I've been dying to say.

When he's about to speak, to say anything, whatever shit that would redeem himself, he sees it then. Sees the pink on Todoroki's cheeks, and watches it flourish through his face.

He did that.

He did that, there is no mistaking it this time, there is no way anything else could have been the source.

"Bakugou, I—"

The ringing of a phone startles them. Breaks whatever was building through the earnest eye contact. Todoroki glances away to get his phone.

"Sorry, it's Fuyumi," He says before standing up and stepping away to accept the call.

Katsuki doesn't feel good. Like he might throw up the yakitori they had earlier. The fire's gone. Something put it out. Something put it out, but it smoulders, the smoke ruining his flesh and suffocating his lungs.

He doesn't know how long he just stares at the ground, impassive to the hungry, orange cat rubbing itself along his arm for attention.

"I have to go." A body crouches to his left, their sides pressing against each other as Todoroki answers the neglected cat. "I wasn't aware of how long we've been out."

"It's fine," He manages to mutter, letting his body lean against Todoroki. He doesn't know why he does it. He feels weak, almost limp. Maybe it's because even the fire, one that burned so strong with so much determination, is gone. Left nothing but scorched logs and twigs—evidence of one.

If Todoroki notices the added weight, he doesn't mention it anyway.

"I want to do this again, Bakugou." He says it all hushed like they might break to the utmost sound.

Why?

Why are you doing this to me? What are you getting out of this?

"Text me, then."

"Bakugou, I—" Todoroki stares at him, forgetting the cat. "I'm going to text you. So, please answer me."

I don't think I could even stop myself from that.

(Why would you be worried about that?)

(Why is that a worry of yours?)

"I will." Katsuki forces himself to lean away, to stand up, but the body follows him.

"My place is the other way, so—"

"Don't worry 'bout it, I can handle myself."

Todoroki stands so unsure and brittle. Someone who usually looks fearless and stoic stands anxiously in front of him. Biting his tongue, holding back so much. Something in the pretty blue and grey screaming.

"Okay." He nods, slowly rubbing his wrist with his warm hand. "Take care of it. Please."

Katsuki tightens his hold on the bag, looking away at the streetlights that've turned on. At anything other than whoever is in front of him, because that's not Todoroki; the display of a person as uncertain as him.

"Good night, Bakugou."

"Yeah." He turns and walks away because he doesn't think any of them would've left otherwise. Doesn't look back either, because the sight might have him run back. Run back, intertwine their hands, and kiss him. Never let go.

At some point, his body reaches a familiar environment. Familiar houses and gardens. He's here, then.

His feet feel so light but his organs so heavy. He's missing something. He's missing something. Something important. What is it?

His heart. He left it somewhere back there. On the ground, next to the cats. Or at Todoroki's feet. Maybe he picked it up, then. Katsuki probably should've asked him to take care of that, too.

He'll put the fan away in his room. Somewhere safe. Then go run.

Chapter Text

Katsuki's gonna die.

He's gonna die for sure.

It's too hot.

It's too fucking hot.

He balances the bags hanging from his arms, almost stumbling up the steps of the porch and into Kirishima, who is taking his sweet fucking time turning the knob.

Scratch that, someone's gonna die today and it's gonna be a certain redhead within a five feet radius.

"C'mon, get the hell inside," Katsuki yells, desperate to feel the slightly cooler air in the house than the humid heat nipping at his skin from the sun.

"Alright, alright." Kirishima finally opens the front door before going inside with the bags of groceries they've just bought.

"Fuckin' hell." Katsuki closes the door with a loud sigh, wiping his forehead with the collar of his shirt.

Shit.

The house isn't as cool as he thought it would be. It's fucking suffocating, even though they left the windows closed so the heat from outside would stay the fuck outside. Fuck. He'll have to secure the food before they fucking melt into puddles, too.

"Sitting room or your room?" Kirishima asks, words surprisingly comprehensible despite the hairband being stabilized between his teeth, both hands busy combing bright hair into a ponytail.

"My room; it's cooler there." Katsuki hauls the bags again and into the kitchen before opening the fridge, the cool air immediately seeping out and hitting him square in the fucking face—and a flash of red and white crosses his mind.

Right.

He fishes out his phone and slides open his notification bar, not a mention of Halfie anywhere on the panel; the message Katsuki sent roughly two hours ago remains unseen by him.

Whatever. Idiot probably fell asleep again, judging from how lazy he is. Even though they were texting in the morning.

Halfie needs to fix his sleeping schedule. Not because Katsuki wants to talk to him more. Matter of fact, he doesn't give half a shit. Actually, not even a fraction of half a shit. You know what, not even a fraction of a fraction of hal—

"Alright!" Kirishima's loud-ass voice rescues him. He's brought to the present once again, store-bought drinks and vegetables in his hands momentarily forgotten. He quickly stuffs them in the fridge (in an organized manner; he's not a monster).

There's some rustling from behind him and he glances over his shoulder to see Kirishima's hands searching through the plastic bags for the new Playstation game they bought with the biggest fucking grin on his face. "Can't wait to play this baby."

Not helping it, he snorts, 'cause Kirishima has been excited all fucking day. The guy asked to check it out together and Katsuki accepted on the condition that they go grocery shopping for his old hag too, which apparently wasn't a problem for Kirishima, who was practically vibrating with excitement in the aisles while the blond went through the shopping list.

(At one point, the dumbass couldn't stay still and bumped so hard into an aisle it shook, threatening to tumble down on them.

"You idiot, can you stop fuckin' dancin' before we gotta pay for the whole fuckin' store?"

"Bro, but I'm barely moving. Here, loo—Oh shit, that was by accident, Bakugou, I swear I can pay for—".)

"Don't take long, man. I'll turn on the fan."

Katsuki grunts, doubting his half-assed reply was even heard by Kirishima, who's already zoomed into his room to turn on the console.

He unpacks the green onion, chicken, tomatoes, and milk into the fridge, grabbing each item one by one until there's nothing left but a mess of empty plastic bags littering the kitchen floor. He eyes the drinks again, contemplating whether to offer one to Kirishima right now, but the asshole would probably only complain about it going warm under the sun's abuse. So. Later, then.

There's a whistle.

A loud whistle that rings throughout the house, one he knows—

"Bakugou, that's one hell of a lion!"

Lion?

Lion.

Fucking hell, the fan.

With the deepest fucking sigh that's ever grazed his foul mouth, he drops his face into his hands and tries to find a fucking reason to live.

It doesn't come. What does, though, is another excited yell from his bedroom testing his will to live.

But, the pest has seen the treasure and the fucking cat's out of the stupid bag, so all he can do now is make sure it doesn't get out of control. So. Groaning, he grabs the chips and pocky they bought and heads to the hallway.

"Don't touch shit, dumbass," Katsuki calls as loudly as he can, halfway to his room. He opens the door to see Kirishima with a controller in one hand and the other reaching out for the fan that's perfectly displayed on its stand at the perfect angle on his clean dresser, just right so the rays from the summer sun give the lion a perfect glow, pouring in through the warm glass of the window—

"Don't touch shit," He says again at the sight of Kirishima replicating a deer caught in headlights, backing away to raise his arms in surrender.

"Didn't touch anything, dude." A pause. With a grin, he puts his arms down and Katsuki already knows the dipshit's gonna play at something. "That wasn't here before."

He scoffs. "What, you counted every fibre of the carpet, too?"

Kirishima only stares.

Katsuki glances away and looks at the All Might figure on his dresser instead. He nervously massages the chips in his hand, the bag crinkling under the pressure of his fingers. "Halfie bought me it."

It's so heavy on his tongue. So fucking heavy in the air, in the open, even more when Kirishima's eyebrows raise and the only thing that leaves his mouth is a stupid fucking, "Oh."

He doesn't like this. Doesn't like this ugly, nauseating feeling reappearing in the pit of his stomach.

"Don't do that," He warns, stops abusing the chips to cross his arms against his chest. A twitch of his eyebrows, a delicate frown on his mouth. He tries to make it deeper to intimidate Kirishima from fucking Irish dancing on this shitty shaky territory, but his facial muscles won't cooperate, body too busy pushing away nausea.

Kirishima shrugs, all exaggerated and animated like he's got a fucking halo floating atop his empty, big-ass, rocks-for-brain head. "Do what? I'm not doing anything."

Yeah, right.

"Like you know shit."

"All I'm saying is I didn't know he comes over."

As-fucking-if. Over his twice-dead fucking body. Like he'd ever have Todoroki here. Bastard's already everywhere: his thoughts, his bed, his shower—A real fucking parasite without actually ever stepping a foot into his home.

"'Cause he doesn't. We were at a street market and he got me it. That's it. End of the fuckin' story."

Kirishima blinks. Doesn't say anything. But he doesn't need to, not ever, because he always finds ways to communicate without ever uttering a single fucking word, always expressive, suggestive, one hell of an instigator. "Shut up."

"Look, it's just so obvious."

"Shut up." Katsuki drops his arms and pushes past him, setting the snacks on the desk. "He didn't even text me."

Okay, yeah, he did, but it took him a whole fucking week. And a little more. Like, what the actual hell?

(He's more sour about it than he'd like to admit, all acidic and vinegary, coating his tongue, his teeth, and gums; a reminder Todoroki doesn't owe him a goddamn thing and certainly not a stupid text.)

Kirishima turns around to face him, lips pressed into a thin line. "Well, did you?"

'Course that's what he chooses to fucking say.

Katsuki glares, annoyed at how he always knows what buttons to push, what needs to be said, whether the blond likes it or not. "I was—" Nervous. "—I didn't even have his damn number."

A red ponytail bounces as Kirishima shakes his head like he's heard the most unbelievable thing, and Katsuki has half a mind to grab him and chuck him out the window. At least grip his head and twist it off. "No way you didn't have his number. You guys were always—"

"I didn't bother givin' him my number after he broke his phone, okay, so hop off my dick."

Kirishima stills, racking through his memories. Squints, like the answer's gonna pop out of the fucking air if he tries hard enough. Then, his brows draw together, frowning. "Do you mean during training when it fell outta his pocket? Dude, that was decades ago."

Katsuki doesn't respond. He sits on his rolling chair, leaving the bed for Kirishima knowing he gets more comfortable on the blankets. (Always messing the bed up and getting smacked on the neck when he leaves anything remotely close to a quarter of a crumb on it.)

Of course, the fucker doesn't take the hint that this is in fact not a conversation he wants to have now or fucking ever—not even with whoever's fated to greet him after death in front of the pearly molten gates of hell.

The console's on; he can hear the upbeat theme of the game softly playing in the background. Unfortunately, he can't see it due to a buff, bulky, dumb nuisance called Kirishima Eijirou standing in front of him, blocking his view of the screen.

"Bakugou, maybe he was nervous." Okay, so they're having this conversation. Great. Real peachy. "Uh, cuz he's human and you could be scary as hell."

He snorts with a little unconscious jerk of his head. Kirishima knows nothing; Halfie is the only person who was never scared of him from the start. Was never intimidated, never wary of him, that bastard was always so—So fucking cool around him, always impassive to his yelling and witty insults.

But then there's a flashback: there's Todoroki and he under streetlights, standing in between cats, fingers tightly gripping a gift. His eyes refuse to look at a heterochromatic pair, ears refuse to listen to an unsure voice. "Take care of it. Please."

Fuck.

He doesn't want to remember that. Not ever. It makes him feel weird. Shitty, in some way. All hollow, like the only way to be whole again is to be with To—

"Prolly wasn't nervous swimmin' with fuckin' Four Eyes or in Tape Face's room." Leaves his lips before he can help it because he's always been damn petty. Blame his fucking mom.

Kirishima actually gapes as if he's arguing with the most idiotic person that's ever stepped on the planet, which is so inaccurate considering Katsuki's not Kaminari.

Then, there's the shuffling of pacing footsteps; one lap, two, three, before Kirishima slumps on the bed, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. "You're jealous."

"I'm not fuckin'—"

"Back at the dorms, I was messing around. Yeah, I thought you were jealous, but like, a li'l, cuz who wouldn't be after something like that? But— you're jealous." Astonishment laces his low voice as if he's coming to a ground-breaking realization, one too out of this world. (Which is not true. Not true, not true, not true, not true—Stupid Tape Face has nothing on him.) "You actually think Sero coul—"

"Stop sayin' that, I'm not fuckin' jealous." Gripping the armrests, he leans forward in his seat, watching the idiot lay like a starfish on the mattress, face to the ceiling. "So, shut the hell up before I fuckin' kick your ass."

"Good, cuz if you were, that would've been the stupidest thing I've ever heard, man." He lazily lifts his head just enough for them to meet eyes. "Including every single thing Kaminari's done while fried."

"Did you just fucking compare me to Dunce Face?"

He smiles, a soft, small gesture—Not a teasing grin, not like Katsuki possibly being jealous is something to be made fun of, a sliver of vulnerability to be ridiculed. "So, you admit you're jealous."

He's seriously considering punching him. Blasting him out of his house.

Sometimes, he hates having friends. He hates having friends who know. Friends who care.

But he doesn't. Instead, he grabs the pocky and chips and chucks them at the bastard, who immediately hardens himself just as they hit his body before turning his quirk off.

"You dunno what I fuckin' saw, alright?" He spits out defensively, bitterly. Sour and vinegar in the crevices of his gums.

An eyebrow raised, Kirishima props his elbows on the mattress to lift himself for a better view of the blond, and Katsuki hates it, hates it, hates it. Hates having friends.

Swallowing, he looks away, slightly massaging the armrests, grazing his nails against the rough texture. The whirring of the fan almost drowns out his hushed voice, the lump in his throat. "He only came 'cause Tape Face was there. That's why. They were already together, too. Talkin'. Smilin'—He was smilin'. Okay. So. Fuckin'—That's why he said yeah to us."

There's shuffling as Kirishima sits completely upright, back against the wall with crossed legs, not caring to pat down the stray strands poking out from his messy ponytail. "Are you being serious?"

Red eyes narrow. "Does it look like I'm fuckin' jokin', asshole?"

Silence. Kirishima tightly shuts his eyes, does a subtle turn of his head to the ceiling as if he's fucking praying, then opens them again.

"Bakugou, I know you're so much smarter than this." Frowning, he frustratingly ruffles the back of his head, and at this point, he needs to redo his hair all over again. "I can't watch you do this. Shit, he was literally stuck to your side the whole time."

Katsuki doesn't say anything. Runs his fingers over and over the armrests, pressing his thumb harshly on the rough leather until the dots poking out of the pattern imprint onto his skin, his fingertips. Tries to pull himself out of the shitty feeling in his stomach.

There's a loud sigh.

"Okay, they were together before we asked, and let's say Todoroki only tagged along cuz of Sero. But— and hold on, stay with me, I know this is mind-boggling for you— but then, why was Todoroki walking with you the whole time instead?"

The bastard's mocking him but he can't seem to be mad, asking himself the same question, brain recalling every moment that happened that day, and—And it's true. Todoroki was by his side the whole time. Sure, there was that annoying as hell moment where Dunce Face decided to be real fuckin' extra and jump on Sero's back, but other than that—Other than that, Todoroki was by his side. The whole fucking time.

"He ate from your ice cream, not Sero's. He ate from—" Kirishima interrupts himself, voice getting louder without realizing it as he practically vibrates on the damn bed, messy hand gestures excitedly executed. "The day you were in your room and Todoroki left to get us ice cream, he asked where you were. Not Sero. Who, by the way, was sitting with us on the couch. You."

Warmth pools at the tip of his ears, an ugly flutter in his stomach. Fuck. This idiot has to stop talking. Has to stop before his face turns pink and blasts both of them. The whole fucking room, really. (But a greedy part of him wants to keep listening, wants to know Todoroki wants him, too.)

"And did you see the way he looks at you? Oh my god, dude's always—Did you see how happy he got when you agreed to study with him? No, you were busy checking him out, but he was smiling so damn hard when he was walking away, I saw him—Todoroki, Todoroki Shouto smiling, and—"

"Can you finish one fuckin' thought?" He tries to grumble out, to sound more annoyed than embarrassed. "You stare at us the whole time or somethin'?"

Kirishima pauses, and the view makes him look like a frantic scientist about to make a break in his experiment from classic cartoons, with the whole deranged look in his eyes and the absolutely atrocious fuck-up of a hair standing up like he starred in the Trolls movie, and—Well, everything about him right now. "I dunno if you can tell, but I'm a little invested."

Katsuki has to fight off a smile, which gets harder as Kirishima's sheepish, toothy grin takes over his mouth. He can't help it, ends up smiling a little. "You should stop creepin' on people and mind your own damn business instead."

"Your business is my business, bro." He opens the chips with a pop. "And you've gotta get it together before I have to give away fifty."

Katsuki raises an eyebrow.

"'Who would make the first move.'"

"Fifty?"

He closes his fingers into a fist, banging once on his chest with a determined expression, all dramatic and shit. "That's how much hope I have in you."

"Get outta my house."

"Just kidding, it was if Sero would kiss Todoroki f—" This fucking son of a bitch. "Bakugou, I'm joking, I'm joking, don't blas—"

♡ ♡ ♡

"You should've told Eijirou to stay for dinner," The old hag says while she drains the recently washed rice. "His mom's been yapping in my ear 'bout how much she's been craving beef stir-fry."

"Yeah, well, we finished our game way before you came," Katsuki grunts out, the sound of the knife hitting the wooden cutting board as he slices vegetables almost punctuating each word.

"So? Next time lock him in so he doesn't leave," She pours the white grains into the rice cooker before adding water. "Then, he'll have no choice but to join us for dinner."

If there wasn't a little hint of a smile on her face, Katsuki would think she was being completely serious. His mom's crazy. Fucking stubborn, too. She'd do it, just so she can make sure Kirishima eats well. (He's a good kid, that boy. I like him.)

Not bothering to point out that that's literally illegal, he pushes the slivered onion to the edge of the board for her to take. "Wouldn't have to do a fuckin' thing; he'd stay in my room for hours. Idiot loves takin' over people's personal space."

"Oh, yeah, talking 'bout your room," She pauses gently stirring the beef in the teriyaki sauce.

Katsuki raises a brow, sparing her a glance before landing his eyes back on his hands chopping vegetables. "What 'bout it?"

"Thought I was in the wrong house when I saw the fan. Would've never even fucking thought, 'cause I always gotta wrestle you into anything traditional." She laughs like it's so bizarre for him to have a simple fan in his room in the summer hea—Oh god, she's talking about the fan.

The knife cuts awkwardly through the bell pepper, the blade almost cutting his finger instead.

"Shit," He says out of instinct, not because he's bleeding—No, his blood is busy collecting in his ears. Always his stupid ears.

"What the hell?" He stops to look at her instead because, for some fucking reason, everyone and their goldfish is interested in the damn fan. "Did you snoop around in my room?"

"What?" She turns with her brows all raised like Katsuki's the one who searched her bedroom like a fucking S.W.A.T. team. "Of course I didn't, you moron. I was calling your name a hundred fucking times but you were out running, so I checked your room for your deaf ass."

Oh.

He watches her add the rest of the vegetables, feeling his cheeks heat up.

He feels stupid. Real fucking stupid. 

Way to go, overreacting like that. So fucking embarrassing.

"And ease down on the running, yeah? Are you tryna lift a whole-ass building with your foot?"

He slowly picks up the knife again. Tries to save his dignity like nothing happened as he glides the blade against the board, cleaning the residue off. "Don't tell me what to do."

There's a clatter as she places the chopsticks down, crossing her arms against her chest. "Alright, who shoved a stick up your ass?"

He doesn't say anything. Glares at the running water while he scrubs the dishes clean.

"You don't even get like that when I bring Izuku up." She keeps going because of course she fucking does. "What, did he give you it?"

Hell, no.

Hell, no.

Deku and he fixed things a bit, but the suggestion still makes him almost throw up. The implication. "No fuckin' way."

"Okay," She nods to herself before she just stands beside him while he cleans the utensils, fully invested in this damn conversation that Katsuki doesn't ever wanna fucking have. "Did you steal it?"

He drops the spoons in the sink, beyond exasperated as he throws his soapy hands in the air. "I didn't fuckin' ste—"

"A boy then," She says excitedly, confidently, like she knows shit. "A boy gave you it."

For a bit, they only stare at each other, her eyes unrelentless. Katsuki glances at her smile, the genuine excitement shining in every fucking way. Looks away to the sink, arms slowly lowering to continue rinsing the spoons. 

"Todoroki gave me it," Katsuki eventually mutters, not meaning for it to come out so gently, heart gradually going into cardiac arrest. He can feel his quirk act up, but the sweat on his hands washes off just as quickly under the stream of water. "This idiot at school."

"Todoroki," She repeats, family name on her tongue.

"Todoroki Shouto," He corrects both of them, not wanting the bastard to be introduced as that.

"But I've never seen him visit." She pauses. Then, a stupid, big-ass grin takes over and Katsuki knows whatever shit is gonna come out is— "You sneaking guys in, you sly little shit?"

Oh my fucking god.

"What," He yells, honest-to-god almost self-destructs right then and there, don't turn red, don't turn red, don't turn red. "I'm not fuckin'—He's not—We're not—"

And then she has the fucking audacity to throw her head back and laugh like this is the funniest shit ever, even going as far as holding her damn stomach. "You should see your face right now. I swear, a replica of a tomat—"

"I hate you," His jaw tightens, thinks if he bit down hard enough he'll hopefully snap it wide open and instantly die. Preferably. "So fuckin' annoyin', I hate you."

"Yeah, right." She wipes tears from her eyes, laughter dying down as she grabs a tissue from the roll on the kitchen counter. "Shit, I haven't laughed like that in so long. Thanks, Kat."

"Like I was fuckin' sayin' before you decided to be real fuckin' funny," Katsuki starts, ignoring her as he busies himself with putting the clean dishes on the drying rack, "you haven't seen him 'cause he didn't fuckin' come here."

"Well, why the hell not?" She folds the napkin. Carefully presses it to her eyelashes to dry her now wet mascara 'cause she got a case of the fucking giggles. Serves her. A real fuckin' comedian. "Bring him over, the boy gave you a nice fan."

"It's ugly as hell."

"Pfft, yeah." She goes back to the food, stirring it, lowering the heat to a minimum. "That's why you have it propped up and shit in the middle of your room."

He places the last cup on the rack, putting both hands on his hips. Tries to frown to send a stop-fucking-with-me face, but the pink apron is just foul. Straight-up ruining his fucking image. "Do you ever shut up?"

She spares him a glance before she quickly looks back at the cooking, her chest puffing out for a second as she swallows down a laugh. "So defensive over a friend. Invite him to dinner sometime. What does he like?"

"We're not friends," Katsuki grumbles, hastily undoing the apron's tie. "And can you stop force-feeding people? He's never settin' a damn foot here."

Too much. Too much. Fuck, Todoroki's already everywhere.

"Who fucking raised you, you brat?" She juts her chin at him. "I already told you your dad and I won't be home for a few days, so bring him the hell here. Be a good host, for once."

Katsuki hangs the apron on the hook. Kisses his teeth. "I'm not bringin' shit."

His mom opens her mouth, because she can never mind her own damn business, but a loud ding from his phone thankfully interrupts her.

He digs into his pocket for it and his heart absolutely does not trip over the name lighting up the screen.

Halfie: Sorry, I was catching up on sleep.

Katsuki looks at the time, frowning at the numbers staring back at him. It's nearing the evening.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin'," He dismissively says, annoyance too evident in one word. "Does no one mind their own fuckin' business anymore?"

"Fuckin'—" He rinses his hand, hastily slapping it on the towel in a half-assed attempt to dry his palm, which earns him a raised brow from his ever-so-curious mom. Spurs him on to continue his rant. "Fuckin' done with this shit. Everyone's nose is so damn big, stickin' it everywhere but their damn business. Shit's longer than Pinocchio's, goddamn."

He walks away to the sitting room, aware a pair of eyes are without a fucking doubt following him from over the kitchen island.

Bakugou: What's got you playing sleeping beauty?

One second. Two. Doesn't take three before the message is marked as read and a bubble appears while Todoroki types.

Halfie: ? I don't know that game.

Katsuki rolls his eyes so hard he almost sees black.

Bakugou: Why the fuck aren't you getting enough sleep dumbass

Seen. Bubble appears. It stays, stays, stays, the three dots flowing over and over. Stops. Comes back. Stops again.

So fucking slow.

What's up with him?

With a heavy sigh, he throws the phone on the couch and goes to set the table, because what-fucking-ever. Fuck this shit. He doesn't care. Doesn't care that Halfie's sleep schedule is all over the damn place and doesn't care why or the shitty fact that they barely have a fucking conversation because the bastard disappears out of fucking nowhere or—A sharp rattle echoes as he sets down the dish on the dining table. Well, more like fucking slams that shit, but the feeling only eats and eats and eats at him.

He's just— He's just annoyed. And maybe not with Halfie, but with everyone else. Everyone butting into their— their whatever-ship when he doesn't even fucking know himself.

There's a ding.

The old hag shoots a look at his phone. Katsuki glares at her and decides to make a statement by not running over to it. Continues to place the last of the things on the table instead. Y'know. Making a point. Whatever fucking point it's supposed to be. Then, he walks over to the couch and reads the message. 

Halfie: Bakugou. What are you doing tomorrow?

Shit.

Shit, his stomach does this thing. A squeeze, a pathetic thing over a simple text. Over a damn text.

Why is he asking?

And why the hell did he ignore the damn question?

This guy's so fucking weird.

"Are you blushing?"

He slowly lifts his head, breath held. Considers the pros and cons of being a murderer and having one less parent to deal with.

"Every fuckin' day I wonder how you didn't die single," He snaps, stomping to his room, ears hot, hot, hot. "Fuckin'—Had to bully Dad into a relationship."

She's yelling something back. Maybe laughing a little, too, and honestly—honestly, he's glad he didn't hear it. She's always like this. They're always like this. It's not bad; it's them—always been. But right now, he's going crazy.

He can feel his quirk, can feel his fingers become slippery against the screen. He groans into his pillow once the bedroom door's shut, brain running and running and running and running and—And he kind of wants to pop the top of his head open and take it out. Wants to carve out the part Todoroki resides in, but he thinks that would be inside the thing beating in his chest instead.

Does he want to see me?

(I want to see him so badly.)

Slowly, he rolls over onto his back. Stops suffocating himself with his pillow and brings his phone to his face again.

Bakugou: I don't know. So far the guys might go to the gaming cafe

Do you wanna come, he starts to type, but deletes it. He doesn't want Todoroki with those idiots. With Tape Face.

Why? he sends instead.

A second. Two.

Halfie: Nothing. Never mind. 

Katsuki frowns. Don't be a pussy.

A little voice in his head laughs. You're the one being a fucking pussy.

Shut the fuck up, no I'm not. 

Yeah? Ask him out then.

Katsuki bites his cheek. Taps at his keyboard.

Bakugou: what are you doing?

Bakugou: Sleeping like the lazy asshole you are?

Halfie: I'm going to visit my mom.

Oh. So he has something already. He didn't wanna do shit together after all. 

Okay, no. No using this as an excuse to be a coward.

The guys are going in the afternoon. And Halfie definitely won't be in the hospital the whole damn day, right? So, maybe... Maybe they could still see each other.

(When did he get so clingy? When did his heart become so eager?)

(When, when, when?)

Bakugou: All day?

Halfie: Visiting hours end at 8 but I don't think I'll stay that long.

Halfie: Why?

Katsuki stares and stares and stares. Decides he can never put the answer into words. Can never spell it out.

Bakugou: You're actually so annoying I hope you know that I'm actively praying a car violates you on your way there

Bakugou: And I'm not even fucking talking about those mini ones like I'm saying a bigass bus or a whole damn monster truck just knocking your shit out

Bakugou: It takes so much fucking sanity not to beat the shit out of you at any given moment you literally get on my damn nerves so much with every breath you take

He pauses.

Bakugou: Just to let you know.

Okay, that felt kinda good to get off his chest. Displaced aggression, his anger management teacher would call it, but Katsuki disagrees. This aggression is very well placed. Arguably not placed enough.

Halfie: Bakugou all I asked was why

Bakugou: I know

Bakugou: It was my last straw

Halfie: I'm going back to sleep.

No. No. No. No. No.

Bakugou: Todoroki if you go back to sleep I'm gonna burn your house down

Bakugou: This is not a threat it's a promise

Halfie: Just make sure Endeavor is in there.

Bakugou: Stop

Bakugou: Why are you going back to sleep you just woke up you fucking asshole fuck you you fucking bitch I hate you

He probably sounds whiny. He sounds whiny. Clingy and pathetic and needy and why is he like this he is never like this please stay I just want to talk to you I want to see you please please—

Todoroki left him on read.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Bakugou: I'll make sure Endeavor survives

The message is immediately seen. Of-fucking-course.

Halfie: I'm awake

Halfie: I'm here.

Bakugou: Good now fucking stay

Halfie: I will if you stop insulting me.

Bakugou: That is so not fucking fair

Bakugou: You're asking for a miracle

Halfie: Bakugou

Halfie: Drop the attitude

Katsuki swallows. Feels his stiff body ease into the mattress.

Bakugou: Okay

He waits. And waits. And waits.

Then, Todoroki calls him.

He hits accept.

♡ ♡ ♡

His head hurts.

Hurts like hurts, 'cause Katsuki's not a little bitch, so when shit hurts, it actually fucking does. Not just his head; the pain's kinda affecting his eyes too, so when he leaves the fog-filled bathroom after his shower and steps into the hallway, it feels like he's going blind from the brightness of it all. The sun screams its existence, proving itself as it pours through the windows, forcing his eyes closed as he makes his way to his room.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The pain, he means. Or the exhaustion, really. 'Cause Katsuki always wakes up before the last star vanishes from the night sky and starts his day with a workout, but he found himself so fucking sensitive to everything since the morning.

Like. It's so fucking hot. Hot. Yeah, it's summer, it's been a month or two like this, but shit, his body—It can't handle the heat, feels like he's suffocating.

It's nothing. It's nothing, he just slept late. Ended up calling Halfie way longer than he was planning to last night, and he's fucking—Fucking paying the consequences. 'Cause this is what happens when you get wrapped around an idiotic, annoying, pretty guy's finger and—He's not getting into that.

It's not like he hasn't been thinking of the stupid conversation he had with Kirishima. Really, it's the only damn thing he's been thinking about aside from the subject himself, with his long-ass lashes and mismatched eyes and deep voice pouring from the other line at night talking about everything and nothing that always leads to petty arguments in-between. (Sometimes, they call during the day, too—Todoroki's voice in the background while Katsuki cooks lunch or rides the bus after the gym.)

It's—It's really fucking nice. Okay. It is, but sometimes it feels like his heart's being ripped out, feels like the persistent hum pulsating in his core is growing and growing and growing until his whole body yearns for more, and fucking hell, it hasn't been long at all since they were together at the street market, but his heart felt so full then, and it's aching to be whole now. Now. Later. All the time.

And he's—He's kinda thrown the yarn all the way down so he doesn't have to deal with the damn mess, but after that shitty talk, he's willing to. To try, at least. He's found that it's kinda loosened a bit, not so tight and impossible to pull a thread out, and no, he's never gonna fucking admit Shitty Hair had anything to do with it. That idiot should mind his own business for once in his life.

He wants this. Can't not want it; his body won't let him. Won't let him ignore the urge, the need, the—All the shit. But he can't help but think about the bigger picture. Like, let's fucking say Todoroki and he get together under the possibility that Halfie feels the same shitty way about him, then what? What the hell, then?

He told Kirishima during the talk how he felt about this, that they're heroes, not kids anymore—were never kids—and don't have time for shit like this, definitely not in a career so dangerous either, and he remembers the way Kirishima started choking on the chips:

"I can't believe you just—Agh. Said that." Kirishima coughs as he straightens up on the floor, no longer on the bed so he doesn't dirty it and have Katsuki smack him back from where he came from. "You sounded like your old self for a sec."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean, fuckwad?"

"Talking about—" Pushing his chest out, a scowl takes over his face as he puts on a show. His tone changes to aggressive, a different voice and—Is that... supposed to be him? "I don't give a fuck about anyone. I don't need friends. I will be number one. Die, die, di—"

"Shut the fuck up." Katsuki throws a napkin box at him, smacking him right in the face. "You can't fuckin' tell me that we share the same love life as everyone else."

Kirishima rubs his cheekbone, where the edge of the box whacked him. Dramatic. "I mean, guess not. But what are we supposed to do, not like anyone? Not dream of marriage and kids?

I'm jus' saying, man. We've always been older than we are. Why not act our age for a sec and date who we like? You like Todoroki, so date him. Screw everything else."

Katsuki's hand idly twirls a pocky along his bottom lip, brows lowered as his mind travels far away, his brain marinating in a cold bucket of Kirishima's words.

"Plus, who the hell says you can't date as a hero?" He continues, throwing a chip in his mouth, fucking that shit up again, his 'swollen' cheek forgotten. "You act like Todoroki sucks. The dude can handle himself; both of you can. Nothing's gotta change. You'll just have each other's back on the battlefield and outside." Kirishima trails off, a shit-eating grin emerging, and traumatic flashbacks immediately appear in Katsuki's brain. "And in bed."

Fucking hell.

Katsuki grabs his big-ass All Might figure, making sure it's the one with the sharp edges at the top and chucks it at him. "You wanna fucki—"

So. So, yeah, the damn yarn's looser now. Maybe he doesn't have to figure out this whole shit right now. Not on his own, at least.

For now, he wants that dumbass beside him. And his even dumber quirk, or else he's gonna fuckin' lose it before he meets up with the guys.

When Katsuki gets to his room, he dries his right hand against the towel hanging around his waist and unlocks his phone.

Good. There's a notification waiting for him, from when he was complaining about the heat earlier.

Bakugou: I'm gonna lose my shit at the gym I feel like the weights are gonna slip from my damn sweat any fucking sceknd

Bakugou: sceond

Bakugou: Fuck my quirk

Bakugou: Im going fucking insane

He scrolls down to the new text, kinda surprised Halfie didn't take longer to respond. Well, it's been two hours or so since he was at the gym in the morning, but at least the idiot decided to wake up earlier this time.

Halfie: Bakugou, there's an empty room in my mom's hospital if you want.

Insane. Katsuki rolls his eyes. Glances out the window to check if anyone saw his little smile.

Bakugou: Shut up

Bakugou: You think you're so funny

Immediately seen. Wow. An improvement.

Halfie: You can become best friends and I'll visit both of you.

Bakugou: Who says I'd even let you

Bakugou: I'll have you banned with a whole restraining order and everything

Halfie: Well, you just lost your only visitor because we all know no one else was going to come see you.

Katsuki's jaw drops. Looks around his bedroom like there's a camera or a fucking crowd witnessing Todoroki's true self, 'cause if he ever told people how much of a brutal bitch that bastard is, most wouldn't fucking believe him.

Bakugou: Fuck you

Bakugou: Look both fucking ways when you cross the street cuz I swear I'm praying on your downfall

Bakugou: Pinky knows how to manifest you better believe I'll be manifesting the hell out of that

Halfie: Manifest a better personality.

Halfie: And some friends to visit you while you're at it.

Goddamn. And people say he's fucking bad. The hell's this?

He hates this guy. Hates him so much, swears to it as the smile breaks into a grin.

Bakugou: You gonna go see your mom with that attitude, asshole?

Halfie: No.

Halfie: The attitude is only for you.

Bakugou: Wow

Bakugou: What a fuckin honour

Halfie: Are you being sarcastic?

Halfie: You're being sarcastic.

Bakugou: Hell yeah I am

Halfie: So you don't appreciate how well I treat you?

Halfie: Then I won't cool you anymore.

Bakugou: No one complained about you cooling me??? Wtf

Bakugou: I just said I didn't want your bitching

Halfie: If you can't handle me at my worst, you don't deserve me at my best.

Bakugou: No fucking way you just pulled up a quote

Halfie: You don't deserve me. I'm sharing ice cream with someone else.

Katsuki pauses. Forgets the droplets pooling at the end of his strands. Forgets the need to dress before he has to leave for the café.

Bakugou: Wtf????? Who tf do you think deserves you if not me???

Todoroki's typing bubble falters then completely disappears the second Katsuki sends the text, and it takes him a good second to realize why, judgment momentarily clouded by—By the sour feeling from back when Tape Face was pressed against Todoroki.

So. So it takes him a second, yeah. But then the seventh time his eyes are reading over his own text, he realizes. And he's—Turning pink. Because what the hell, he didn't mean it to sound like that, but also that's one hundred-fucking-percent how he wants it to sound, oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

The typing bubble doesn't come back.

He's just—Left on seen. 

Is Todoroki... blushing?

Katsuki throws his phone across the room at the idea, cringing so fucking hard because he's acting like a little fucking kid, but the flashback of Todoroki going pink between the cats that one day is too much.

It's so hard to catch that bastard off-guard, to paint him in emotions—So, moments like these fuck with him, an indescribable feeling welling up in him until it blooms across his chest in warm fluorescence (though he guesses Halfie was way worse in their first year, completely emotionally constipated).

It's humid as he slips on a shirt, the fabric sticking to his slightly damp skin, and it's just—So fucking annoying, feeling it stick, sensitive, sensitive, sensitive. Stupid texts made him forget to dry himself properly, and when he's about to put on his jeans while cursing everyone he knows out, his phone beeps.

His head lifts at the sound, motions slowing but buckles his pants before reaching for the damn thing.

Halfie: Then call me

♡ ♡ ♡

"—on't mind." There's shuffling on the other end, then a door closing. "Are you there yet, Bakugou?"

The bus comes to a stop, a shit-ton of passengers getting down. One of them pushes Katsuki, almost knocking his phone out of his pocket. He kisses his teeth, aggravated as he stabilizes the earphone in his ear. He taps his IC card against the card reader and finally leaves the bus. "Just got off. Shit's so fuckin' hot, I'm already fuckin' sweatin'."

Halfie hums in response, and the sound fills him as it comes in from both ends, enveloping him. It melts away a bit of his annoyance, his narrowed gaze softening, no longer glaring at the dipshit who bumped into him. "The café has air conditioning, right?"

"Fuck, yeah. Else I wouldn't have agreed to nothin'." Katsuki scoffs, shielding his eyes for a moment as he crosses the street. "You there yet?"

"Ah," Pours into his ears, and his nasty, down in the gutters brain fucking—Saves it immediately, making it echo and vibrate through his core, and Katsuki has to act unbothered, sniffing as he brushes his knuckles against the bridge of his nose dismissively, tryna get his shit together in public. "Actually, I left the house just now."

"Psh," Katsuki shakes his head but doesn't smile, catching it before his lips could make such a warm gesture. The familiar dark-themed exterior of the café eventually comes into view. "So lazy. Fell asleep again, didn't you?"

"Only when you were gone, at the gym." Only when you were gone, only when you were gone, I woke up for yo—Stop. Fucking stupid brain. "I should get her something, right? Maybe... Ice cream."

"You and your stupid ice cream. I'm sick of it." Katsuki stops in front of the café, pulling his phone out to check for messages from the guys' group. "I'm there now. Text me what you end up gettin', yeah?"

"Okay," Softly flows in between the racket of engines and merchants hawking their products from stands. "Goodbye, Bakugou."

He's about to respond when an arm swings around his shoulder, bringing him around.

"Dude, I've been yelling behind you for I don't know how long," Kirishima sighs, throwing his head back as he ruffles the bottom of his red hair. "Shit, I shouldn't have run in this weather."

"No one told you to run," Katsuki says, shrugging his hand off.

"I know but you wouldn't stop," He groans, tightly shutting his eyes in the dramatic way he always is. (He gets it from Kaminari, really.) "You just kept on talking and talking and moving your mouth. Who is it?"

"Oh," Katsuki glances at his phone, but the call's done. Frowning, he pulls his earphones out and buries them in his pocket. "No one."

"Talking to yourself?" Kirishima leads them inside. "It's okay, man, it comes with age."

"Fuck off."

"Here," Kaminari yells, waving his hand in the air. They turn to find him sitting at one of the computers, Sero standing behind his seat as he points to something on the blond's screen.

"Hey, already playing?" Kirishima grins, patting them on the back.

"Yeah, hop on." Sero leans away from Kaminari to sit on the computer next to him instead. "We saved this row for us, come on."

"You want a burger, Bakugou?" Kaminari offers, pulling out the chair beside him for him. "We already ordered Ramune with extra ice."

"Nah," Katsuki hesitantly sits, rubbing his palms on his pants. Fuck, it's so ho— "Hold on. Why the hell is it hot in here?"

Kirishima pauses turning on his computer. "Wait, you're right. I didn't even notice."

"What, the heat's too much for you, Bakugou?" Tape Face leans back in his chair to make eye contact, and Katsuki feels a vein pop.

This isn't a day he should be tested, patience way too fucking thin and nonexistent. He's tired with a headache bigger than the fucking planet and his whole body is missing Halfie again, even if to only hear his stupid voice at the bare minimum.

"Here, I'll ask." Kirishima glances around until he locks onto an employee setting down fries at another group. "Be right back, guys."

Katsuki sighs, reaching out for the power button when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

Halfie: I'm on the bus now. I think I'll get her ice cream.

His fingers hover over the screen to type.

"Okay, he said the air conditioner is broken." Kirishima's voice comes from his left.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, Katsuki lifts his head to look at him.

Blinks.

Realizes Kirishima's not fucking with him.

What if he just—Just fucking self-destructs right here, right now? Fuck this place up?

"The actual hell?" He shuts his phone, gripping the armrests to get up. "Fuck this shit, I'm not stayin'."

"What?" Kaminari grabs his chair, dragging him close. This bitch. "But, Bakugouuuu, please, please, please—"

"No," He pushes him away, fucking hot, hot, hot. "You can stay here and rot. Rot here, there, in hell, I don't care."

"Where are you gonna go?" Sero slips off his headset, a brow raised.

"I don't fuckin' know. Home?" His phone beeps, his hands automatically reaching for it. "Anywhere that's cooler than here so I don't fuckin' die."

Halfie: This is more difficult than I thought.

Halfie: Did you cool off?

Bakugou: There's no damn ac so I'm leaving

Bakugou: I cant beleibe I just went out for this shit jsutfor there not to be an ac 

Bakugou: Ugh my quirk

Katsuki groans, wiping his right hand on his shirt.

Halfie: Do you want to come here?

Halfie: I'll keep you cool.

Shit.

No. No, you won't.

You'll drive me insane.

He shuts off his phone to rub his hands over his face, lingering on his aching temples while he feels the extra blood heat his ears.

"Bakugou," Kirishima pulls him out of it, nudging his chin at the phone. "What's up with you?"

"Leave me alone," He sluggishly snaps, watching the rest of the guys set up their game.

"Bro, are you gonna put the headset on or what?" Kaminari asks, whiny, whiny, whiny, and Katsuki's head hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts. "Please, Bakugou, please."

"No. No, I'm leavin'."

"Yeah?" Kirishima's hooking his hand under his armrest and dragging Katsuki away from Kaminari's irritating persistence. "Where to?"

"Not home, so don't fuckin' bother goin' there to fuck around in my room."

"Got it." Sero raises a thumbs up with a bright smile, those ridiculous, weird-ass rectangular teeth on display. "We'll watch TV in the sitting room."

"Fuck off, I'm being serious."

"You wound us." Kaminari throws himself back in the chair, its cushion hissing from the impact. (This is what he fucking meant by Kirishima getting his dramatic acts from, fucking hell.)

"Chill for a sec, guys. You start playing, I got it." Kirishima's wheeling him around so they're facing each other, the other dipshits finally backing off.

"I'm tellin' you, I ain't fuckin' stay—"

"I'm not gonna tell you to stay," He hushes, out of earshot from those two gremlins. "You're gonna go to Todoroki, right?"

Katsuki glares at him. Swears to the sky above that he feels his eye visibly twitch.

"Got it, have fun." A wide smile, like he's been told something to be this hype about. This guy really is fuckin' invested. "But I told you, make a damn move cuz those signs are so big a blind man can see them. I know you're not dumb."

He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again to curse Kirishima and his knock-off Trolls hair, and his fucking ancestors, too, but the guy's turning his chair away already to set up his game.

Okay.

Okay, so he's doing this.

He turns on his phone and pulls up Todoroki's chat, realizing that he left him on read twice.

Fuck.

He's such a fucking idiot, he probably thinks Katsuki doesn't wanna hang out.

Ugh, why is everything going so damn shitty today?

Stop.

Stop, it's fine.

Get your shit together, goddamn. You left Todoroki on read for a few seconds, right when the guy asked you if you wanted to join, so fucking what?

Okay, that's so bad.

(When did Katsuki ever care about shit like this?)

He stares at the message.

Halfie: Do you want to come here?

Halfie: I'll keep you cool.

Butterflies. Literal butterflies, it's pathetic. So fucking pathetic and to be fucking honest, Katsuki wants to reach out through the screen and strangle that motherfucker for being able to make him feel this way.

His thumbs indecisively type out a response just to erase over and over again. (Yeah, yeah, fuck yeah I wanna see you, wanna see you so bad, please—)

Fuck his life.

Bakugou: Where are you

♡ ♡ ♡

Only a bit more. Only a bit more and he'll make it, only a bit more and—Fuck, he accidentally steps on a big-ass pebble, shitty bitch almost sending him flying as it sticks in between the soles of his shoes.

He's just—Walking too fast. Didn't mean to, but it's fucking hot, so, so fucking hot and the address Todoroki gave him says that it's just around the corner, and did he fucking mention that it's hot because it is and he even wore a sleeveless shirt and the thing is almost sticking to him.

"Oh," Fucking comes outta nowhere, scaring the shit out of him as he rounds the corner and almost knocks over this random girl. She freezes, faces inches away from his chest, and the second she lifts her head to look at him, her face crumbles. "Oh, sorry, sorry, excuse me."

What the fuck?

He doesn't look that scary, does he?

Like, sure, it feels like he's being roasted alive but he checked in the mirror of the gaming café before he left, and his hair and face are fucking fine, okay, like dam—

"Sorry, I'm just going t—" She's still stuttering, blinking at his chest, and if his old hag thought he looked like a tomato in the kitchen, then he sure as hell doesn't know what this girl is. "I mean, that w—"

Katsuki glares at her, ends this fucking mess of a show as he shoves past her, 'cause she's dragging this on for way too fucking long when all she could've done was move her ass the other way and get on her with her fucking day. But no, she decided to waste his fucking time stammering like an idiot when Todoroki's so so so close and waiting for him.

Not to fucking mention that he doesn't look bad.

He doesn't.

He checked, so shut the hell up, shitty-ass brain. His hair's dry, still got its fluff going even though the sun's being a bitch, and he smells nice. (Well, kinda like burnt sugar, but not really—He can't help his damn quirk.)

A few more steps and he's pulling the handle of the small convenience store open, a little bell chiming his presence. It's empty aside from the receptionist at the front, cashing out a man. He doesn't waste a second, walking inside and checking the aisles.

Come on, come on, come on, where are y—

Todoroki.

Todoroki's here, leaning over a freezer full of ice cream with his back turned away, his stupid short hair falling over his eyes a little. And his stupid light blue button-up shirt, completely open with a stupid white shirt under.

Katsuki wants to grab the canned soup on the shelf next to him and bash it into this bastard's skull.

Piece of shit. Fuck you.

Fuck him. Fuck him, fuck him, because there's a wave of something completely taking over Katsuki, drowning him in a sensation so ugly and passionate. Leaves him drenched in the aftermath of never-ending yearning.

He finds himself stomping over to the asshole in charge of it all, pushing Todoroki around by his shoulder, whose mouth parts in the fucking tiniest hint of surprise while he's manhandled and shoved against the freezer.

Todoroki blinks up at him, forced to lean backward, elbows planted atop the freezer's door as his back bends over it so he doesn't end up splayed on it, all pretty and—

"Bakugou," There's an immediate change in temperature, cool air materializing, slapping Katsuki in the fucking face, and fuck, fuck, fuck, it feels so damn good. "Did you get in a fight?"

"Shut it," He says, eyes closing tightly, fingers grasping the edge of the freezer, hand on each side of Todoroki, trapping him in. "Be quiet for a second. Shit."

There's the hum of the machine under them, drumming under his palms, and the low pop music playing through the speakers overhead. Outside, the rumble of the street on a typical summer day, and—It feels like Katsuki can breathe again. Can feel his lungs swell with oxygen.

"What's wrong?" His eyes flutter open at the voice, except it's no longer only a fucking voice, there's a body, there's a body, a body, body, body, and it's here.

Todoroki's staring, but not at his eyes. More like kinda downward, to the side, and Katsuki follows the motion.

It's his biceps, which, under the ceiling light, are shiny, glistening with a fading layer of sweat thanks to his personal air conditioner. It's nothing, but this is giving him a flashback of the girl earlier. At least the bastard isn't stuttering and blabbering shit like her, but just fucking—blatantly staring.

"Fuck off, everyone sweats in the summer." He doesn't mean to sound defensive, he honestly gave zero shits about the girl, but Halfie's attention is different. "Actin' like I'm fuckin' soaked or some shit."

"No, that's not it." Mismatched eyes finally abandon his triceps, glancing down his forearms before they look up and lock with Katsuki's. "You're... fine. But why are you angry?"

"Angry?" A soft frown takes over his mouth, brows lightly stitching together as his gaze runs over the guy under him, drinking in the view as quickly as possible. "I'm not angry."

Halfie tilts his head, and he hates it, hates it, hates it even more now with the scene in front of him: Spread back and pretty, Todoroki trying not to lose his balance, not to lay his back on top of the freezer. (It's fine, Katsuki will make sure he doesn't fall, even though he really fucking wants him to.) "Then, what did you shove me for?"

"I didn't fuckin'—shove you." He insists, fingers flexing against the surface, begging to close the distance between his hands and Todoroki's waist. Begging to hold onto it, glide his fingertips to his lower back where his torso's bending against the edge of the cooler. "Makin' it seem like you're an abuse victim."

"But I am," He nonchalantly says, because of course he fucking does.

"Ugh, shit, fine, but not my abuse vic—" Katsuki stops, throws his head forward with an exasperated groan, golden strands tickling Todoroki's face. Then he takes a deep breath before raising his head again. Just enough to be eye to eye. "I didn't shove you."

"You so shoved me," The idiot argues, voice threaded with provocation, keeping his gaze levelled with Katsuki, even when the blond's leaned down to him, bringing their faces closer, threatening, threatening, threatening. (He wonders how Todoroki would react if he leans down a bit more and pecks him.) "You're still pushing me against the freezer right now."

Katsuki makes a show of looking around, no one in sight at the back of the store with them. "Debatable."

"Do you always smell sweet when your quirk gets too much?" He asks, elbows pushing against the surface so he can tilt up a little toward Katsuki, and—What the fuck, he watches pretty lips get closer and closer, brain too fucking slow to react because the butterflies in his stomach are faster, and—Abort, abort, abort, what the hell.

He frantically grabs the dickhead's shoulders and pulls him away from the freezer, pushing him aside and to God knows where. Just—Just fucking throws him somewhere.

A resounding smack echoes when Halfie's body hits the fridge at the other end of the fucking store.

"Weird-ass, pole-built prick," Katsuki mutters, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand to hide the ghost of a satisfied grin from view.

Fuck him. Katsuki hates him.

Hates him, fucking annoyed with him for having this stupid fucking effect, but his brain can't help but be a little pleased. For managing to get so close, lips, lips, lips, lips.

But now he kinda regrets it since the air conditioner's gone, the atmosphere's hot again.

"Finally," He turns around to find Todoroki's reappeared already, usual unbothered expression on his face as he tilts his neck. Slowly winds his right shoulder, once, twice, three times, footsteps approaching. "My back was starting to hurt."

"Yeah?" Katsuki can't help it, can't get enough. "Couldn't arch your pretty back any longer?"

"No," A beautiful, beautiful breeze hugs him when Todoroki stands beside him, looking into the glass full of ice cream. He slides its door open. "Couldn't stand looking at you any longer."

"What if I hypothetically push your head into the freezer, slide the door on your neck, and suffocate you until you turn blue, then grab you by your shirt and smash your skull against every shelf in the store until you lose the fuckin' attitude?"

Todoroki pauses. Glances at him. "I feel like this isn't hypothetical."

"For real?" He rests his elbow on the edge, fingers mindlessly drumming against the humming machine. "We got a fuckin' Sherlock Holmes in here."

"You say I have an attitude, but you're the one who practically tackled me for no reason, Bakugou." The dickhead rolls his eyes, reaching into the cooler. (Katsuki didn't tackle him. He grabbed him, spun him 'round, and pinned him against the freezer. Then, proceeded to mentally recharge himself. What's so fucking bad 'bout that?) "Seems like you're going back to your bullying tendencies."

"No fuckin' way you ju—"

"Do you want chocolate?" A package is shoved in his face so fucking close, his lashes kiss it.

"Give me that," Katsuki roughly grabs it, stressing a damn under his breath.

"Well, I think you just burst it with that grip, so forget it."

"My grip's fuckin' fine," He spits out, just seen each other but the fucker already knows how to get under his skin. "Go worry 'bout your weak ass not bein' able to stay awake for one goddamn zeptosecond." 

Fuckhead could sleep through a fucking war.

Surprisingly, the topic of his shitty sleep schedule shuts Todoroki up.

Okay, then. He still doesn't know what fucked it up 'cause his question was never answered when he asked, but it's whatever.

He settles his attention on the small, frozen bag in his hand. It's one of those ice cream that come on a stick. Y'know, the ones covered by a layer of crunchy chocolate while the inside's vanilla? Except this one's filled with hazelnuts on the outside, too.

"No," Katsuki hands it back. "I don't want shit that isn't soft serve."

"Okay," He puts it away. "Pick a flavour then."

"Uh. Fuckin'... Vanilla?"

"I'm trying to taste every flavour and you choose vanilla?"

"Shit, fine, aren't we gettin' two? Just get the other one in whatever weird shit you want."

He watches Halfie silently mull over the variety of treats. Uses the chance to check him out. (Shut the hell up, he hasn't seen him in so damn long, his body is aching.)

His gaze starts from the top and painfully slowly makes its way down, tryna bore every detail into his desperate brain.

His hair's neat, completely fucking dry because the summer heat doesn't have a single fucking thing on him, even though Katsuki sometimes wishes the sun would grow a long-ass hand and reach down to Todoroki, wrap it 'round his neck and choke the bitch out. Maybe then he would get off his high horse 'bout Katsuki needing him for his stupid quirk.

It kinda looks like he trimmed his bangs, even if it was a short cut, 'cause his irritatingly pretty eyes are more visible now. Katsuki doesn't have to sell his kidney every time he wants to get a clear look at them anymore.

Why does this guy have such a good fucking side profile?

He wants to bash his face against the glass.

The white shirt underneath isn't as see-through as the last one, but they can make it work. The shade of the blue button-up is nice, definitely an upgrade from the fashion sense Halfie had in their earlier days. Doesn't make Katsuki wanna scratch at his face until he's legally blind, at least.

His gaze trails along Todoroki's shoulders, mentally noting the way the fabric tightens around his biceps. Rakes over the white material curving around a torso he wants to touch, wants to slip his hand aro—

"How about matcha?" Todoroki pulls out a soft serve with a clear, plastic lid on top. The ice cream's green, obviously, but has a light dust of matcha on it. It's a classic cone, the tip of it designed in waves, which is nice 'cause when it'll start to melt, it won't dribble down and make a mess.

"Fine," He jerks his shoulder, a half-assed way to shrug, but he's focused on something entirely different from picking a flavour. Shit's gonna get eaten anyway, as long as it ain't weird. Could've been worse if the weirdo chose wasabi in hopes of getting creative.

"Oh," He raises an eyebrow, pressing his lips together for a second. Katsuki follows the action, can't help it. "Thought you'd put up a fight."

"Just wanna get outta here." It comes out unintentionally soft, not so much as a complaint, eyes refusing to leave a different coloured pair. "Day's been shitty."

"Do you want to go home and sleep?" He suggests, hand going into the cooler once more for the second ice cream. "Since you've been saying your head hurts."

"Fuck, no." Wanna stay with you, wanna stay with you, wanna stay with you.

"This has vanilla and also strawberry." Another one's handed to him, this time the lid being bigger because the cream's surprisingly a good amount. Half of it is strawberry (a vibrant red) and the other vanilla (white), merging in the middle as the swirls combine, finished off with a piece of strawberry at the very top.

"Wait," Katsuki lifts it into the air and beside Todoroki's face to compare them, cold treat pressing against his cheek. "Hey, Halfie, this looks like you, yeah?"

"Very funny," He says in a tone drier than the Sahara desert, and his done-with-your-shit expression is all it takes to do it. It's not funny, it's not, but for some reason the view makes him forget his massive bitchy headache as he throws his head back and laughs, all loud and eyes shut.

"It really does, shit." He manages in between breaths, harder when Todoroki pushes his hand away from his face, done, done, done with Katsuki's bullshit. (This scene seems familiar, played once in a kitchen; he is his mom as much as she is him.) "You should see your fuckin' face right now."

"I'm thinking of making your hypothetical scenario come to life, Bakugou."

Fuck. A few more heaves of his chest as his laughter dies down and he's opening his eyes again, tryna wipe away slight tears clinging to his lashes. He seriously needed that.

When he's tuning back into the present to make fun of him more, Todoroki's just—Staring. The annoyed crease in the middle of his brows gone.

"I regret inviting you." Comes, eventually. But his tone isn't that. Isn't regretful, he means. More like something else laced in the mellowness of it all.

Yeah, right. As-fucking-if. Bastard's just sour that they found his doppelganger.

"'Kay, let's get your mom somethin'." He grabs a plastic shopping basket from the neat pile in the far corner, putting both ice cream in there before slinging it on his shoulder. Tries not to laugh his ass off again. "How come you're gettin' ice cream, anyway? Ain't she always cool or some shit?"

Todoroki's leading them to the other side, where there are more selections but in different forms, slowing at the question. Looks back at Katsuki in that one way he always does when he's about to twist his words outta context. "Are you saying we can't have ice cream because we run cooler?"

"That's obviously not—" He purses his lips. Doesn't try to waste his fucking breath. "Todoroki, all I'm fuckin' sayin' is I don't think I've ever had this much fuckin' ice cream in my life."

No, seriously. Never in his damn life did he eat this much, not even in previous summers. He's just—It's just Todoroki.

Who, Katsuki now realizes, is kinda looking at him weirdly. Only for a second—Or barely, really. But Katsuki caught it. The little way he paused for a minute as if startled. Like he said something unexpected, batshit crazy.

"Okay," He says, and then he just turns away and starts busying himself with the options, hand running over a random treat without even glancing at it before he grabs it and pretends to read it.

Like it's so obvious, so obvious he doesn't know what to do when Todoroki brings the bag even closer to himself, acting real damn interested in the text printed on it, so the blond can't see his face.

Okay. Okay, what the—What the hell is happening?

The fuck is he hiding his face for?

"What are you—" Katsuki pauses. Truly lost tryna decipher this... mess. Scene. Todoroki's attempt to act subtle (but about what)? "The fuck are you doin'?"

"Reading." Comes from behind the bag.

"Todoroki, that's literally upside down."

There it is again, except this time the cool air hesitates.

He watches as the product's slowly turned the right way. Then, delayed: "Thank you for telling me."

Fuck this. Show me your damn face.

Katsuki yanks the item away, finally unblocking his face, quickly running his gaze over to see if anything's wrong and—Bastard's fine. Completely neutral, almost back to stoic if not for the faintest rose fading from the edges of his stupid, perfect cheekbones.

Nothing's wrong with him. Katsuki gives him a suspicious look which he doesn't think the dimwit even caught and chucks the dessert in his hand toward the general area they got it from. "You done actin' unique? 'Cause we needa get your mom somethin'."

"Oh." Responsive as ever. Todoroki doesn't look like he's totally here yet, but he hesitantly holds the handle of the fridge in front of them, staring down a tub of peppermint ice cream.

"Absolutely fuckin' not." Shaking his head, he smacks his fingers away. "Are we just gettin' anythin' that looks like you? 'Cause if that's the case, I saw a garba—"

"I do not look like that." Yeah, the pink's gone. Gone and replaced by a glare Todoroki probably thinks is intimidating, but Katsuki just wants to kiss him. Wants to kiss him until the sharpness of his eyes from their pointless bickering evens out, until softness fills his features and all his pretty lips can do is kiss Katsuki back and—He just wants to kiss him. Wants to kiss him. "I'm not sure what to get her."

Her?

Right. Rei.

"The hell you mean you dunno what to get her?" 

"I don't know what she likes." A gentle frown takes over his mouth, blue and grey carefully scanning the poor options on display. "Ice cream. Or any kind of sweets. I don't know."

Right.

"'Kay, that's fine," he smoothly says, setting the shopping basket on the floor to check out the other side. There's gotta be better choices there. Like a pack or some shit. Maybe an assortment of fruit jelly or mochi or something so he doesn't have to see that kicked puppy look. "We can just get a coupla different shit and see what she likes."

"Oh." Ugh. That's all the fucker says but he somehow manages to capture sounding thoroughly beaten in a single word (barely one, more like sound). At least he's following Katsuki around (like a puppy). "That's a good idea."

"It's my idea, so 'course it's a good idea," leaves his lips distractedly, not really there, more focused on skimming past every frozen treat in all the shitty fridges in hopes of finding something actually nice. Fuck everything twice if this little fucking convenience store (that's too generous, it's not even that, really) thinks it's gonna keep an expression like that on Todoroki.

He sees it then.

A package of something colourful. Promising.

He walks closer to the fogged-up glass, barely making out the print Yukimi Daifuku. It shows different flavours of mochi on the cover, stuffed with ice cream.

Hell yeah.

He opens the door and grabs it, turning around to show him. "Here. Look at this."

Todorki's eyes flit to it, hand slowly reaching out to wrap around the package, their fingers touching. But Katsuki doesn't budge. Doesn't let him take it. Lets their hands overlap each other.

"It has chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry." He points under the drawings, fingertip tracing the Japanese characters, which is completely unnecessary because Todoroki is literate, but he's a desperate bastard, taking advantage of how their limbs constantly brush with the glide of his fingers. "It even has matcha. Maybe it'll have traditional red bean fillin', too. I know you're picky as hell, but maybe your mom's not."

And. And there's been no response whatsoever, he realizes as his proud smile fades away. Finally glances at Todoroki to find him with that expression still clouding his face: uncertainty tugging the corners of his mouth downward, like he's still not entirely convinced.

A heaviness settles on Katsuki's chest. He feels it, like those nasty, cheap polyester fiberfill stuffings in kids' dolls, except it's in his ribcage. Thick and overbearing and hot, hot, hot, hot, hot and he wants to rip them out so he can breathe again.

"Hey." He grabs Todoroki's chin. All firm and sure, because touching him is something his body will never question. Katsuki lifts it, forcing his eyes to pull away from the treat to meet with his instead. "Stop makin' that look."

And they do, at some point. Bastard doesn't rush to answer the command. Doesn't flinch either, because this is okay; the way Katsuki's fingers perfectly fit along his chin and jawline is okay, his thumb tempted to nudge a little more upwards so it can glide across Todoroki's bottom lip (but never does) is okay, it's—It's fucking okay.

His lashes are so long. He feels like he doesn't say it enough, but they're so damn long, especially when his gaze is openly wandering everywhere on Katsuki's face, unwilling to settle, endlessly searching for something (and a small part of his brain believes that Todoroki shouldn't have to search so hard to find it; his shitty feelings have consumed him long ago).

Still. Still, he's so soft like this, soft in a way that Katsuki wants to kiss him.

Wants to lean down a bit more and press a kiss on his lips. Or maybe pull him by the chin until there's no space left between their mouths, and—And Katsuki wants to kiss him. Just wants to kiss him.

"What look?" Todoroki finally asks, but it doesn't come out in an actual questioning tone, more faint, like it's lost its purpose.

I want to kiss you.

Want to kiss you.

Want to kiss you so fuc—

"That dumb fuckin' look, c'mon." He grabs his arm, picks up their abandoned shopping basket in the corner, and leads them to the front.

Burning. From the inside, he's burning. Melting. Maybe from anticipation, maybe from craving this for so long, but—His nerves are pricking, a tingling sensation all over his body, and fuck. Fuck.

And when he releases his grip so they can pass the ice cream at the register, Todoroki doesn't move away. Stays so close, their arms press against each other. Stays so close, Katsuki can feel the chill radiate more than fucking ever.

But he's still melting. He's still fucking melting.

"Bakugou," There's a sharp sound as Todoroki freezes the plastic bag in his hold, and then they're walking into the street together, steps falling into a synchronized rhythm. "Do you have your IC card?"

"'Course I do," He stuffs his right hand in his pocket, leaving his left arm hanging out since it occasionally bumps against Todoroki's. "How do you think I got here, dumbass?"

"A simple 'yes' would've been just fine."

Katsuki grimaces when they pass a tall building, its height no longer blocking the sun. The rays pour over them, an indescribable heat swallowing him whole, bright light going right for his fucking eyes.

He sharply turns away from the fucking sun and to the left, facing Todoroki.

"What is it?" Asshole asks, giving the blond a curious once-over. "Is the sun hurting your eyes?"

"What do you fuckin' think?" And now he's forced to look at Todoroki, or otherwise the son of a bitch lighting up the fucking planet in the sky is gonna fry his eyeballs to ashes. But Katsuki can't keep staring directly at his face, or he'll fixate on a pair of pretty lips, so he lowers his gaze to Todoroki's shoulders. Glares at the blue, open button-up tightening around his biceps. "Why the fuck are you wearin' that?"

"Wearing..." He glances down. Looks back up with a raised brow. "A shirt? Why am I wearing a shirt?"

"Why are you wearin' a fuckin' shirt on top of a shirt, you dimwitted, nitwitted, half-witted, doubl—"

"Are those even real words?"

"Holy shit, if you don't take your shirt off, I'm gonna kill myself."

"You're hot, so you want me to take my shirt off? How does that even—"

"Just take the button-up off."

Todoroki stops in his tracks, an ugly sound of rubber against pebbles. Slowly blinks at Katsuki. "I am not taking my shirt off."

"You have one under, so what's the damn problem?" He insists, frustration coating his tone as he realizes they've reached the bus stop. He slumps against the bench, then quickly jumps to his feet when the wood makes contact with his pants, scalding in the summer heat. "Fuckin' hell, I can't even sit down."

He's gonna lose it.

He's gonna lose it right here, right now.

"Shit. Fuck. Shit," Katsuki runs a hand through his hair. It's dry. It's dry, but he swears he's melting. And Todoroki's just standing there. He's just standing there. "How the hell are you not hot?"

"Bakugou." It's soft. Calm. "I'll cool the bench for you, okay? Give me a second. I'll cool you."

He doesn't know why or how, but something in him clicks. Almost like a switch sliding to the right setting, and he's—He's not losing his shit anymore, brain on pause.

Todoroki places his right hand on the bench, steam rolling off the planks before a very thin layer of ice covers the seat. And that—That makes something twist in him. Makes something flare inside him, as if he needs more shit right now.

He swallows. It hurts.

"Come sit."

He's not in the mood to be a bitch. So he sits, Todoroki joining him too.

Please don't fucking say anything.

Katsuki props his elbows on his legs. Buries his face in his hands, a long sigh drawing out.

That was so fucking embarrassing. Practically telling the guy to strip, what the hell?

It's just his inner demons. Got a little silly and rowdy and shit. He swears on his life that today is hitting differently because what the fuck is up with the heat?

His quirk—His quirk doesn't fucking help either.

"Bakugou." Todoroki says his name so much. He says it so much. "What's wrong with you? You're more unstable than usual today."

Unstable.

Fucker said unstable.

This fucking bitch.

"Shut the hell up," Katsuki snaps, rubbing his eyes. His temples. "I didn't sleep good and my head's been hurtin' like a bitch since mornin'. I'm fuckin' exhausted. So, shut up."

The bench creaks. Once. Twice. And then something is pressed against his left side. A body.

Todoroki's.

He uncovers his face, slightly tilting to the side to get a look and, sure enough, Todoroki's scooted next to him until there's no fucking space left and—And it's so cool like this. The chill, it's crazy. Feels it seep through Todoroki's shirt. And he can breathe. He can breathe.

"Better?" A smooth voice. He crosses his arms on his legs, chin resting on his hand, almost mimicking Katsuki. Then he bends down until their eyes meet. "You should've gone home after the café didn't work out. To rest."

His gaze is glued to Todoroki's mouth. Watching it as it forms different syllables, ears drinking in the sound. And he's convinced a foreigner who doesn't speak Japanese could find their way around it if it's Todoroki they're talking to; the way he clearly accentuates everything, like each letter matters. A guy can get entranced. Can get curious.

(But that guy better be only him.)

"Don't tell me what to do." No bite, kinda lax. Katsuki finally finds it in himself to pull his attention back up. Leave his mouth alone. "What, you tryna get rid of me?"

"Get rid of you?" Their arms are touching. Their arms are touching. He's right here. And they're touching. "No. I want you to stay."

Want me to stay...

Do you want me to kiss you, too?

(I want to.)

"Bakugou." He says it so much. He says it so much. "You went to the gym this morning, right?"

He can't bring himself to move his tongue, throat real fucking dry as Todoroki rests his cheek on his hand, bangs falling, perfectly framing his face. And he's looking straight at Katsuki, all his attention right here.

So, he nods. Watches Todoroki lean into him.

And then. And then he's saying something. A lot of things. But Katsuki's brain blanks out, fucking stuck on how close he is, on the feeling of their sides pressed together, and holy shit he can lean forward and kiss him. Right now.

"I told you not to...It's really hot and..." Fuck, he's blanking. Focus. Focus. (His lips are so close.) "Already feeling faint...Why are you so..."

Fuck.

He can feel his body drum. Literally drum.

This isn't enough. This isn't enough; their sides squished together, it's—It's not enough.

"—Kugou." He blinks into the present: Todoroki all up in his face, frowning with his brows drawn together. "Bakugou, the bus is here. Are you okay?"

No.

No, I'm not.

I think I'm going fucking insane from wanting to kiss you.

Wanna kis—

"Yeah." He gets up. Rubs his palms across his pants. Pushes it all down.

♡ ♡ ♡

Fujiya Hospital. That's where Rei is. Well, where they are now.

The building's huge, fucking massive, really. Painted white with a shit-ton of windows from every damn side, and when they walk in, it's not much different.

Smells like a hospital. He doesn't know how to explain it, but you just know the smell.

And Todoroki knows his way around, so much he wonders if the guy spends every waking moment in here. In the long hallways and on the uncomfortable-as-hell plastic chairs in the lobby. In between patients and the constant beep, beep, beep of machines all over the place.

"Oh, Shouto." The medical receptionist greets them (well, one of them) when they get to the front desk, all smiley and shit. "Rei's in her room. She just finished lunch. She'll be happy to see you."

"Thank you," He politely nods, a subtle motion, and raises the plastic bag of ice cream so she can see it over the desk. It's dripping a bit since they melted it outside the hospital doors, barely two minutes ago. "Hopefully she isn't too full. I got her something."

"Oh, is that so?" Katsuki doesn't know how, but she manages to smile brighter. All teeth and gums. Holy fuck. Then she adjusts her glasses, looking past Todoroki and at him. "Looks like you brought her something else, too."

"Huh?" Asshole turns around, actually visibly confused. Did the fucker forget Katsuki's here? "Oh. No, he's not for her. He's mine."

What.

Oh my fucking god.

"That's not what she fuckin' meant, you empty-headed, little—" Katsuki reaches for Todoroki's hem but the dipshit dodges. "Honestly, what the actual hell is wrong with—"

"It's okay," She says, voice cracking from nervousness. Awkwardness. All the -ness at this fucking point. "It's fine, you can—You can head upstairs."

"Okay." And then he starts walking with zero concern whatsoever even though Katsuki thinks that woman is gonna rethink every word that comes out of her mouth for the rest of her life.

Dumbass gave her PTSD.

"We'll have to take the stairs because the elevator is always being used." He leads them further into the building and steers them right, past the door to the staircase. And Katsuki's feet follow, on autopilot, not quite here.

He's mine.

Flutters. Flutters in his stomach as they make their way up, step by step, but it isn't just the bold, poorly thought-out, straight-up statement, but the reality of where Katsuki's going setting in.

They're heading to Rei.

To Todoroki's mom.

This isn't Todoroki's shitty old man. This is Rei. That's, like, his everything. She's so much. She's so much.

What am I doing here?

What the fuck am I doing here?

There's a loud sound as his steps falter, almost losing his footing and tripping up the stairs.

Todoroki glances at him. "What's wrong?"

He doesn't move. He's stuck, shoes sinking in place. "I can't—Why am I here?"

Something flashes through Todoroki's face. Big and indescribable, but it's gone in an instant. "What do you mean? You decided to come with me."

"No, I know."

"Are you having second thoughts?" Todoroki's fingers hold the railing. "Do you want to leave?"

"No, that's not what I'm—" He stops. "I don't do shit I don't wanna do, Halfie. All I'm askin' is, you sure you want me here?"

At that, Todoroki's shoulders relax. He didn't even notice him go tense. "Yes, I want you here."

"Okay."

"Okay."

And then they resume going up the stairs. Don't say any more words, but it seems like the misunderstanding's been swerved even if the silence is a bit heavy, and Katsuki's busy diluting the anxiety brewing in his guts. 

They reach Rei's floor and exit the staircase to enter the hallway. Todoroki takes them to the right door. There's a plate on the side that reads TODOROKI REI.

His hand wraps around the knob but doesn't turn, pausing to shoot Katsuki a questioning look—and okay, he is nervous but it's not like he's gonna pee his fucking pants, so he furrows his brows and not so lightly shoves his elbow in Todoroki's torso just to communicate how offensive that was.

(Fuck, he's sweating like hell, quirk dancing on a tightrope and he's pretty damn sure Todoroki sees through his one-man show, but the guy only gives a small shake of his head before finally twisting the door open.)

The first thing he sees when he goes in is, well, the whole room because it's that fucking small. To the right, the wall caves out to make a bathroom area: A sink, mirror, dresser, and shelves holding some towels in all unnecessary shapes and sizes; to the left, a green chair pushed under a desk that has a stack of books and letters.

Actually, no, the first thing he sees is the whole fucking room but also Todoroki's mom, in the middle of it all, sitting on the edge of her bed as she peers out the window, back turned to them.

And Katsuki's always been one to observe everything, hear everything, analyze everything, so of course his eyes immediately frantically rake over her, but this whole situation is so fucking bizarre that all his brain can come up with is she has white hair.

('Course she does.)

"Mom." It's Todoroki's voice, deep as always but with a hopeful lilt to it, a sort of steadiness that pulls her away from whatever's absorbed her outside to finally notice them.

First, it's recognition that paints her tired face, but then her eyes look past Todoroki, slightly widening when she sees Katsuki.

"Hi, Shouto." A pause. She shifts, the bed creaking as she adjusts herself on the mattress so she can face them, still so surprised, and Katsuki comes to the obvious conclusion that Todoroki's lack of expression does not come from any of his family members. (No, it's been built, it's been moulded, and Katsuki wants to break it, break it, break it.) "You brought a friend."

Shit.

He shouldn't have come here.

Why did he come here? Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did he think he could enter this part of Todoroki's—

"You must be Bakugou," She smiles, and it doesn't quite reach her eyes, but it still radiates warmth in the air-conditioned room. "You can call me Rei. I've heard so much about you."

I've heard so much about you.

I've heard so much about you.

I've heard so much about you.

Maybe he stares for a while because the silence stretches on for way too fucking long, and the only thing that pulls him out of it is Todoroki's arm brushing against him, cold, cold, cold against his bare skin where his shirt remains sleeveless.

"He is Bakugou." A bicep presses firmly against his, now not a featherlight sensation, almost as if it's to get his attention, to pull him out from the flutter in his stomach—and of course it fucking works, because even a simple, soft intake of breath leaving Todoroki's lips is enough to grasp his attention, to consume him whole and entrap him in his fucking thoughts. "Just nervous."

Katsuki knocks their shoulders together so fucking hard he's sure he could've sent him to Brazil. "Shut the hell up, I'm not fuckin' nervous."

Unbothered, Todoroki tilts his head as always, like he's tryna solve world hunger. "But you said—"

Katsuki's about to slap his hand across the bastard's mouth to shut him up, but the sound of Rei patting the mattress stops her son from spewing more shit.

"Come sit down so we can talk, you two. I want to know everything." She lifts herself off and sits on the chair across so the boys can take the bed instead. "What did you do today? Did you spend it together the whole time?"

Katsuki says no at the same time Todoroki says yes, which of course he fucking does. (Stupid. They were absolutely not together the whole time.)

The mattress dips when they sit on the edge of it, and if he could have it any other way he would've pushed the asshole off and watched him land smackdown on the floor, but unfortunately, he can't, so he decides to argue instead.

"Yes," Todoroki settles close to him even though the side of the bed is long as fuck. Not enough for their arms to touch, but their thighs ghost against each other. "We did, Bakugou."

"No, I was at the gamin' café with the guys."

"But you left them so we could hang out."

"I didn't leave 'em so we could hang out." Katsuki defensively spits out, because Todoroki's totally painting the wrong fucking picture to Rei. "There was no air conditioner."

"Well, you're here, anyway."

"Actually, I'm not."

Todoroki stares at him like he's the dumbest fucking person on the planet. (Okay, shit, fine, that one left his mouth without thinking, but admitting that he wants to spend time with Halfie in front of his mom is way too fucking much.) "Why do you have to disagree with everything?"

"I don't."

"See?"

He turns to Rei, pointing an accusatory finger at Todoroki. "Tell your son to shut up."

Todoroki tugs on the blond's shirt like a little kid, offended, agitated, brows stitched together and Katsuki wants to caress it with his thumb, to smooth out all negative emotion from his face. "Hey, don't team up with my mom."

He's so fucking close. Katsuki's breath doesn't hitch. It doesn't. (Lava in his stomach.)

It doesn't seem like the idiot realizes his actions, that he's leaned into Katsuki's space so much their chests almost brush, that his cold, slender fingers are tangled in Katsuki's shirt.

(He has to push through. To resist. He has to. It's what a hero would do.)

"Then stop bein' a dumb, annoyin', irritatin', frustratin', irritatin', moronic, irritatin' asshole that has an ice cube for brains, dumbass."

Todoroki's not impressed, and if it's not evident with the way his unamused expression shifts to annoyed, then it's the way he tightens his grip on the bundle of fabric, pulling Katsuki closer; a threat, a promise, a dynamic they've created. "You've repeated 'irritating' three times."

So close. So close. So close.

(Push through. Resist. It's what a hero would do.)

"Yeah?" He wraps his fingers around the wrist of the hand that's tugging his shirt, and Todoroki doesn't even pull away, doesn't, doesn't, doesn't and it's so skinny his palm covers it so easily, fitting so perfectly, and the lava turns and turns and turns. "Make that four, 'cause you really are fuckin' irri—"

Laughter cuts him off, gentle and airy, filling the room, floating off the walls. They freeze, both turning their heads to the sound: Rei with her hand politely covering her mouth as she laughs, but it's futile, her happiness so strong it takes over her face, making dimples under her squinted eyes.

Something shifts in his body at the view. Different. New. A mix of surprise, satisfaction, a trace of pride, and he's not fucking sure where they're coming from but he manages to pull his gaze away to glance at Todoroki. The bastard's forgotten their illogical argument, heterochromatic eyes a little wide before the corners of his pretty mouth curve upwards into the softest smile and the grip on his shirt goes slack, wrist loose in Katsuki's hand.

(Satisfaction. Pride. Rei's dimples. Todoroki's smile.)

"It hasn't been five minutes and you've already found something to bicker about." Despite her words, she doesn't seem annoyed. "I didn't believe Shouto when he told me, but seeing it in person is funny."

Katsuki turns to the boy. Doesn't let go of his wrist, but doesn't tighten his hold on it either, in case Todoroki's forgotten and the smallest squeeze will remind him to jolt away. "What shit did you tell her?"

Being addressed, pretty blue and grey lock with red and something deep, deep inside him starts fucking praying, begging.

Don't notice. Don't notice. Please, don't fucking notice.

(Molten lava. Insides melting. Ice cream under summer heat.)

"That you're insufferable and pick a fight if I so much as breathe."

This guy's such an asshole. A prick with a massive fucking attitude, and a real fuckin' handful, for others, maybe, but Katsuki's not one to back down from a challenge. Especially not one initiated by Halfie. Especially not of something he so, so desperately wants.

(In reality, the bastard's irritating personality spells out the sole thing he would ever fucking settle for—and, ha, that's five now, you fucking bitch.)

So. He doesn't back down. Forces a scowl, the expression everyone knows means they have five seconds to run for their lives before all hell breaks loose—but not Todoroki. Never works on Todoroki. "I'll show you insufferable."

"Boys, no fighting." A mother's stern voice always sounds familiar, but he didn't think he'd hear it here. Not from Todoroki's mom. 

It's not like he underestimates her or pities her or some shit. He's not like that. But hearing it gives him a sliver of reassurance that Todoroki's visits paid off. That their beyond complicated relationship due to their fucked up family is not past fixing. The liveliness of this small room—the decorations, the glass vase of blue flowers on the table, the small random souvenirs gifted by Todoroki's siblings littering the shelves, and the pile of letters signed with messy as hell handwriting that he's one hundred-fucking-percent sure belongs to the dumbass sitting beside him—it's a relief.

For some reason, it is. Even though this doesn't fucking concern him, he tells himself as he's sitting here visiting Todoroki's mom in the hospital, as he's welcomed into this part, into this corner—and suddenly, he doesn't feel real good.

"What a weird pair of friends."

Don't say that.

Don't say that.

Please, don't fucking say that.

He lets go of Todoroki's wrist. Leans away, shifting his body forward to Rei instead, and runs his palms on his pants, hot, hot, hot. "Not friends."

Todoroki raises an eyebrow at his mom and she giggles. 

Frowning, Katsuki crosses his arms against his chest. "What?"

"He said you say that every time."

"What haven't you been tellin' her?"

"Well, I didn't tell her we got her ice cream."

We.

"Hmm?" Rei hums, watching Todoroki slightly twist to the left to properly reach for the bag. "You brought ice cream?"

He distractedly nods, a gentle, tiny motion as loud, aggravating crinkling echoes in the room while he shuffles through it to get the mochi package out. (It's so fucking annoying that such a stupid, meaningless action makes Katsuki ache. How can a nod be cute? How can a fucking nod be cute?)

"Yes," He belatedly replies, finally grabbing the package. He offers it to her. "I didn't know what you'd like. So. This one has a lot of flavours."

"Thank you, Shouto." A warm smile as she takes it, turning it over to inspect it. "This is lovely. I haven't had mochi in a long time."

Katsuki watches the scene. Looks at Todoroki, whose eyes are still lingering on Rei, lips pressed into a thin line as his finger starts lightly scratching the blanket, between his and the blond's legs. An unconscious habit.

Ugh. He hates seeing him like this. Hates how it can physically hurt him, how Halfie simply being hesitant guts him. And the fucker is so discreet about it but Katsuki's brain can't not pick that shit up. And it's not like he's gonna just fucking sit here and let it happen. So.

"Well?" He grunts out. "He doesn't know, so you gonna tell us which one's your favourite?"

He ignores the fucking somersault his stomach does when Halfie stops his damn fidgeting to look all surprised at him (and because the universe fucking loves torturing Katsuki, the spot where the dumbass decides to still his hand is so fucking close, pinky touching the side of the blond's thigh).

"Oh," Rei brings a hand to her mouth, thoughtfully tapping her finger against her lower lip. "I don't have much of a preference. As long as it's not crazy, it's okay."

Yeah, no. I didn't go through shit for you to say that. That ain't good enough.

Todoroki's gonna fucking know what his mom likes.

"Yeah, look." Katsuki starts, unfolding his arms for a moment to gesture at Halfie with his thumb. "Let's say I pointed a damn gun at his big-ass head and told you to pick a flavour. Which one you choosin'?"

Rei's mouth falls open, blinking before she does this short, surprised laugh. The fingers grazing his outer thigh tug at his pants to get his attention, Todoroki leaning into him with a frown.

"My head is not big. And why do I have to be getting shot? Who says you get to be the one shooting?" He complains like a little fucking kid, the only thing missing's a whiny tone, and Katsuki tries so fucking hard to glare at him as the bastard keeps leaning closer for his attention. (Fuck, fuck, fuck, if only he fucking knew he always has it.)

He's sure Todoroki would never pull a move like this with someone else. A part of himself is proud. (Greed, greed, greed swirling within.)

"I say so, so that's what's fuckin' happenin'." He scoffs, playing irritated, quietly thankful for having his arms crossed against his chest or else he would've instinctively wrapped one around Todoroki's waist to keep him near. "And t'was either shootin' you or bashin' your head five hundred fuckin' times against a spikey wall, so you pick."

Todoroki's eyes narrow, hand leaving Katsuki's thigh to settle between them on the mattress. "I'm about to throw you off the bed."

"I think I'd choose vanilla," Rei curiously says, holding her chin in thought, already used to them. "Oh, but strawberry's good too. Yes, I think I'd choose both."

Boom. Fucking genius, that's what he is.

You're fuckin' welcome, bastard.

"Strawberry," Todoroki repeats, drawing away and back to his seat. (His heart hurts at the loss. Hurts, hurts, hurts.) "That's Bakugou's favourite ice cream flavour, too."

"No, it's fuckin' not." (It is.)

"Bakugou, do you ever think of shutting—"

"Okay, how about we eat before everything melts?" Rei contentedly interrupts, carefully ripping the package open.

Halfie grabs the leftover treats in the plastic bag, handing the matcha to him. "I'll have the strawberry first so when we switch, you finish off with what you like."

(Melting, melting, melting, melting, melting.)

"Don't care," Katsuki mutters. Lowers his gaze, his head, to the matcha in his lap, hoping the fluff of his hair hides the heat threatening to flourish throughout his face and ears. He pops off the plastic cover before throwing it in the small garbage bin beside the bed, making the shot, 'cause of course he would. Why wouldn't he?

Okay, so the ice cream's fine. In one fucking piece, at least. Still got the satisfying soft serve pattern, standing its ground enough that the wavy tip of the cone where it meets with the base of the ice cream isn't very soggy, and the light dust of matcha is still visible.

When he's about to take the first lick, Halfie presses something cold against his mouth. He freezes, fucking startled—because holy fuck that shit came out of fucking nowhere—until he realizes it's a strawberry. The strawberry now missing from the top of Todoroki's ice cream.

Katsuki grabs the wrist of the hand trying to shove a fruit down his damn throat and pushes it away so he can fucking speak.

"What the hell are you doin'?" He manages to calmly ask the dumbass who's staring with usual stoicism like this is perfectly fucking normal. (Well, maybe, it has been normal between them.)

"You don't want it?" He glances at the green monstrosity in Katsuki's hand. "Thought you might want some strawberry, at least."

(Melting, melting, melting.)

Katsuki looks at Rei, finding her busy matching each colourful mochi to the flavour indicator chart on the box without a care. He looks back at Todoroki.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Burning, burning, burning, his grip on Todoroki's wrist tightens as he guides the hand to his mouth again, opening his mouth for Todoroki to feed him the fruit when the strawberry touches his lips.

And then he's pulling his hand away from Katsuki's hold, turning his attention to his stupid red and white ice cream. Like it's nothing. Like it's nothing.

Katsuki's not gonna bawl his fucking eyes out. He's really fucking not. But there's that feeling, the feeling that never ever fucking leaves, always consuming him, eating him, a billion times worse than some pathetic fluttering butterflies in his damn stomach—And he's going to throw up.

Slowly, his teeth gently sink into the strawberry in his mouth. Biting it and taking it apart, letting it cleanse his tongue from all the words itching to leave as his eyes find Rei again.

I want your son.

Please, let me have him.

(Please, let me fucking have him.)

♡ ♡ ♡

"Shit," Katsuki softly curses, stretching his limbs as they step out the hospital doors and into the cool night. His shirt rides up as he winds his elbow, a slight chill of air welcoming the newly exposed skin.

He didn't realize this much time passed. Honestly, they wouldn't have left any time soon if the nurse hadn't kicked them out ten minutes past visiting hours.

And it actually wasn't bad. Meeting Rei, he means. He thought it would be awkward as hell, crickets chirping in the background and everything, but it was pretty normal. They talked about a lot of things and nothing at the same time, things that led to all types of illogical arguments while Rei watched from the sidelines, hand over her mouth and dimples under her eyes.

It was—Nice.

He cracks his neck. Slowly rounds it to the left. To the right.

Then they're walking down the hospital steps and into the street.

"I don't want to go home, Bakugou." He glances at Todoroki just in time to see him raise a hand to cover a traitorous yawn. And it's not that he wants to see the trivial action; his attention gravitates to Halfie without any intention, an instinct his brain developed, engraved into every organ and nerve in his body. And, well, he looks a little bit like a cat, yawning like that. The small stretch of his mouth, slowly, slowly, ever so quietly, elegant like everything else he does.

It's infuriating. Fuck him. Fuck you.

"You look like an elephant ran you over. Then backward. Then sideways." A pause. "Then frontward again," He adds (for good measure).

You look pretty, lays in-between the lines, hangs in the cool night air, sits at the tip of his tongue yet never makes it out, teeth timidly holding it down. So fucking pretty.

"Thank you." Todoroki distractedly moves a few bangs from his eyes, and his stomach almost drops thinking he's going to pat the messy, fluffy hair down, but relaxes when he simply retreats his arms back to his sides.

"Not a compliment." It comes out breathy, low, and Katsuki pulls his gaze away because one more second at the view would really fucking do him in. He watches their feet move in sync amidst the night, streetlights yet to turn on, the dark orange and red hues of the setting sun highlighting everything instead. "Bus at this late... will prolly come in 35 or some shit. Definitely not 'fore half an hour."

"Do you want to eat together?" together together together together together together together together together "We didn't have dinner."

"No."

He can hear the bastard frown without having to look. "But you didn't eat."

"I'll make somethin' at home. You go to sleep."

There's a sigh. The piece of shit is pouting. He's pouting. Katsuki knows. He doesn't have to look. He won't fucking look. "Not even noodles? Soba sounds good."

"Soba? You really wanna have hot soup right now?" He grunts out, finally looking up but not at the fucker on his left—No, straight ahead, breathing in the slightly cool air from a certain quirk. "It's fuckin' summer."

"No, not kake soba or something. Just soba. Cold soba."

"'Course," Katsuki involuntarily laughs and, for a second, Todoroki pauses, the air going back to real fucking warm. "Well, I don't like your lame cold soba, so if we go to a noodle shop, I'll have to eat somethin' hot."

"I'll keep you cool." Todoroki tilts his head, a stupid, ridiculous habit that cuts precious years off the blond's life, but his tone is not cute, no, it has this thing to it, this playful yet curious note, a little flir— "Am I not doing that right now, Bakugou?"

Yeah. Asshole's teasing him.

"Fuck off. I said no." A few steps and they'll arrive at the bus stop, which by the looks of it is empty, the whole fucking street actually, no pedestrians but three or four cars driving by every few minutes.

He just has to last a little more. A little fucking more.

Todoroki doesn't reply, thankfully. Finally shut his pretty little mouth up. So Katsuki takes it as his chance to calm down. To think things over. He can see him in his peripheral vision, their arms lightly brushing with every step.

He's really here. He's here, and they've been together almost the whole fucking day. His body's doing this thing again. This thing where it longs and longs and longs and he has to stuff his hands deeper into his pockets because otherwise they'll reach out and pull Todoroki close. This thing where he has to actively bite his tongue so his mouth doesn't end up opening on its own to say he's changed his mind, that he wants to have dinner together.

The bus stop isn't an enclosed space like one of those little rooms. Instead, there's a glass wall with metal support on each side, and it extends at the top to make a roof, with a bench under it.

Good. So, Katsuki won't suffocate and blow them up. At least there's a little more light here, a digital rectangle-shaped advertisement built into the glass wall, flickering through pictures of various products.

Two more steps and Katsuki sits first. Todoroki follows to his right, which momentarily confuses him, 'cause wasn't the idiot spouting that he'd cool him a few seconds ago?

Whatever.

He crosses his arms, not so much self-conscious than concerned. Because Todoroki's sitting so fucking close. Because he longs and longs and longs and his hands will find a way to make his fingers interlock with another pair.

Todoroki gets up and walks over to the long wooden stand a few strides away to read the bus schedule on it. Red eyes stop inspecting an advertisement billboard in the distance to follow his figure, watching his every move. Up. Down, slowing at the curve of his waist, his hips. Up again.

So annoying. So fucking annoying.

He finishes reading whichever stupid section, turning around to make his way back, and now Katsuki has to reluctantly dart his eyes away. "The bus will be here in a little less than 40 minutes."

"Should've gone with the train." He focuses on the billboard again, feigning disinterest as the bench creaks, Todoroki joining him on his right once more. Blue and black illuminate the empty street, the trees, and the balcony of apartments, after an advertisement of a men's watch lights the huge screen. Then it changes to different ice cream on display, along with cakes, for a dessert shop, maybe. One of them is mint chocolate.

Mint chocolate.

That's the first flavour Todoroki and he shared. Not like he fucking cares. It just came to him, is all. A little memory.

He remembers how the dumbass bit the fucking thing like it was the most sensible thing to do and then sent Katsuki spiralling into a lecture about basic fucking ice cream etiquette that no one ever has to clarify unless they've got a twig called Todoroki-fucking-Shouto.

A little smile grazes his mouth. He turns to the right. "Was it really your first time eatin' ice cream? Back then."

Todoroki returns the gesture, but only stares with a parted mouth as the little gears in his empty brain strain to work. "Oh. No, I'm sure I've had it before, when I was young. Before I turned six, I think."

Katsuki swallows. Aches somewhere. Because that's still young. That's still so fucking young.

"I just forgot the taste. I remember it now. I remember." He's not sure what layers lay in between, but his soft smile is so... So— "Thank you, Bakugou."

Katsuki looks away. Hot. Hot. Hot everywhere. Fuck. He should've made him sit on his left. Made him use his quirk. "Shut up. I didn't do shit."

There's a low squeak from the wooden bench as Todoroki slightly shifts, body going slack when he leans back to rest his head against the backrest. "I haven't had ice cream in so long. I haven't—So. You did."

His voice, his words—They're low, relaxed, a soft hum to them. Maybe from the lack of rest, maybe from something so clear yet shrouded, but it makes warmth pool over his abdomen. Makes it difficult to breathe.

"I can tell it's been a while with the way you bit the ice cream the first time. Stupid."

"It's not that I don't know to lick it. It makes sense for me to eat it with my quirk."

"Yeah? I'll make you eat shit right now."

"Bakugou, do you want me to keep cooling you or not?"

"Hah?" He straightens up, turning his whole body to the fucking jackass, who's still staring up at the sky like this doesn't concern him. (Katsuki tries not to focus on the curve of his neck, the pale throat calling his name.) "No one even asked you to cool me from the start, you bastard."

Todoroki finally turns his head toward him, mismatched eyes locking with his. "You never had to ask. You never have to ask."

He can't respond—His mouth is so, so fucking dry at the view, and so he only stares. He stares, and he's always been greedy, always been so fucking greedy, so he lets his eyes rake over Todoroki's visible collarbones, sharp as his neck cranes to the side to look at him, to look at him, and he drinks in the view, drinks it all in, his soft skin, his—

"Your ears are red." 

Katsuki blinks.

"Are you still hot? Do you want me to sit on the other side and cool you?"

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Impassive. Play impassive. Be impassive.

He clears his throat. "I'm fine, you look like you're 'bout to turn into a fuckin' zombie. When we get off the bus... Go straight home. No stops."

"No, I don't want to go. I want to stay with you."

He's going to throw up. He's going to throw up.

I want to stay with you.

I want to stay with you.

His stomach hurts so fucking much. The butterflies, they're fluttering too much—And Todoroki's lashes are so long, decorating a pair of worried eyes, worried Katsuki might ditch him.

"You know... You know we can't stay here."

It's like the first time they got ice cream together all over again: Todoroki stubbornly refusing to leave the curb and eat the treats on the way.

We can't stay here.

We can't stay here or I might kiss you.

He counts the pebbles on the ground. Tries to, at least, but Todoroki's left hand rests between them, and he can't help but be so conscious of it, of the fact that he could just reach over and—he could just fucking connect their hands, trace his palm with his fingertips, touch his slender fingers, nails always so neat and filed. His body feels so alive, a steady thump, thump, thump of searing, hot want swimming through his veins.

What does he do?

What does he fucking do?

Does he bleed?

"What did you do with it? The fan I gave you."

The question catches him off-guard. Katsuki glances at him, the inconsistent lights of the digital advertisement behind their back barely highlighting the softened features of a perfectly sculpted face, the unusual faint ruffle of bi-coloured hair. The hues stick to his jawline and cheekbones as it flickers through different promotions, different palettes.

(Katsuki doesn't blame them; if he were the reflection of an LED display, he'd take the chance to colour Todoroki, too. Paint him in the dark. But he's not, so he watches the deep tones slowly dance on fair skin. His hand itches to feel.)

(He tucks it away, just in case.)

"What?" leaves his lips eventually.

Todoroki doesn't answer. He only stares, patiently, and there's something so unfamiliar about the dull glint in heterochromatic eyes, the shadow of something similar to a frown, not really a pout, on pretty lips—always so, so pretty. So tempting.

Todoroki looks away. Grinds his palms into his eyes, a slow, circular motion that Katsuki's gaze cannot help but follow as a sleepy voice fills his ears. "The fan I gave you. I'm just wondering."

"What do you think?"

He smiles. It sits lazily on his lips, the muscles of his face barely putting effort into the action, and the softness of it makes it so fucking unfairly attractive. "Threw it out."

"Fuck off," He snorts.

"So you didn't?"

"See, this is the problem with fuckers like you. Think you know everyone and everythin'? You dunno shit."

"That's a really long way of saying you kept it."

"D'you wanna keep your life?"

"Do you use the fan?"

"Not really." Because he doesn't lie.

"Oh."

He doesn't need to explain himself. He doesn't. He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't, but the disappointment that paints his exhausted face—

"My arm gets tired. Like my fuckin' wrist's 'bout to fall off," He quickly says, a breath of defeat escaping after. Peeks at Todoroki from the corner of his eye. Then, his mouth hesitantly parts, and on its own, quietly, barely a whisper: "So. Like I said. Can't replace you."

Todoroki abruptly turns his head to him, mouth almost mimicking the shape of a small O. It's quiet for a moment, and he wills himself to keep staring ahead, ahead, ahead at the pebbles on the ground and not turn to Todoroki and kiss his mouth closed.

"Bakugou."

"What?"

"I think I'm hallucinating."

Okay now he turns to him with a raised brow—because what the fuck—to see him clasping a hand over each of his ears, on and off, as if he's testing something.

"What the hell are you doin'?"

The idiot stops to look at him with a very serious expression, looking like the fucking monkey emoji with a palm slapped over each ear. "I thought I heard you compliment me just now."

This damn bitch.

Katsuki grabs the collar of his shirt and aggressively pulls, Todoroki's body pliantly following the motion, and the hands that were once raised drop, one holding onto the backrest of the bench for balance, the other wrapping around the blond's waist. "You wanna die?"

Todoroki holds eye contact. But not for long, because his gaze—His gaze flicks down to Katsuki's lips and just. Just stays there. "No. I want to stay with you."

Not this shit again. Not this shit again, not this shit again, not—

The lava turns and turns and turns. His free hand itches. Itches to wrap around a body so close to his. To slip under Todoroki's shirt and explore, memorize each beauty mark, each scar. Find exactly where his temperature changes.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Is this a fucking sign? Is this shit what he was told to look for?

No. No, this is just Todoroki being Todoroki.

He's being tested. He's being tested by the universe. The bastard doesn't understand what he's doing; he's a dumbass. He's a dumbass that doesn't know social cues, never has, and Katsuki's own stupid, stupid, stupid yearning has manipulated it into foolish fucking signs that the guy pressed against him fucking likes him.

He's so fucking sick of this shit. So fucking sick of wanting and wanting and wanting and never ever fucking getting.

So, say so.

Say so.

What the fuck is stopping you?

Is this what you end up being a coward of?

Bullshit.

He is far from a coward. He is far, far from a coward. Because wanting someone this much is already—

So.

"Look at me." The command isn't followed immediately, but eventually blue and grey look into red, and Todoroki's lashes are so fucking full. Mesmerizing. He wants to pluck them out, one by one. "Are you fucking with me? Yeah? S'that it?"

"I don't understand," The idiot frowns, and it sits badly on him, sits badly on a pair of lips that once wore a lazy smile, and it makes a wave of guilt wash over Katsuki. It douses his organs and neutralizes his stomach. The anger. The lava. Todoroki's arm unwraps from around him. "Do you not want to stay with me, too, Bakugou?"

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

(Calm verbal communication is of great importance, Bakugou, rings the voice of his annoying-ass teacher, the stupid reminder repeated countless times in the anger management class he's forced to take.

And maybe it's not so fucking stupid right now. Not right now—Not with Todoroki. So. Calm verbal communication, it is.)

He loosens his grip on Todoroki's shirt. Lets his hand fall between them, on a slightly warm lap.

"Why do you wanna..." Swallowing, Katsuki trails off. Squeezes his eyes shut, before hesitantly spitting it out, heavy, heavy, heavy on his tongue. "Why do you wanna stay with me?"

"I keep thinking of us getting ice cream." It comes out quiet, and the answer is so bizarre he can't help but think he heard wrong, the steady thump, thump, thump of his heart, his insides, drowning out the actual answer.

"Of us gettin' ice cream," He repeats slowly, unblinking.

Todoroki fidgets. Todoroki doesn't fidget, but he is, lean fingers picking at the fabric of his pants, awfully close to where Katsuki's hand rests rigidly atop his thigh. "Yes."

"'Kay," Climbs up his dry throat and pushes through his teeth to freedom. He tries to pull away from the view, but he can't. It's so strange. It's so fucking strange, Todoroki's uncertainty so loud in the silence, in the vacant street, for only his eyes to lay upon. "Can you, I don't fuckin' know, explain to the class, maybe?"

He finally lifts his head, momentarily pausing his focused assault on a stray thread poking out. Looks right. Looks left. "There is no cl—"

"If you continue that sentence, I might murder you and then kill myself."

He shuts his mouth. Stares, but doesn't say anything else. The only things that remain moving are the colours decorating his face, stubborn while they cling to every eyelash, highlighting the bridge of his annoyingly perfect nose, making a home in his irises as the LED reflects in them. And Katsuki wants to say: That's not yours to settle in. Not yours to brighten.

"Look," He breathes out. "I keep sayin' that you don't know what the hell you're doin' 'cause you lack basic social skills. But you've gotta fuckin' know when you say weird shit. When you do weird shit. You've gotta know what it comes off as."

No answer.

Katsuki runs his hands down his face. Keeps them there. "Sayin' you wanna do this again. Sayin' you wanna stay with me. That you keep thinkin' of us gettin' ice cream. Stupid fuckin' ice cream. Do you know what that hints? Do you know what that shit does to—"

"I think of you so much I can't sleep."

The world stills.

It is— Still.

He is sure even his heart paused its furious beating, just so the words could travel into his ear, clear. Unmistakable. His diaphragm, too, halts, the need to breathe forgotten, his expanded lungs abandoned, but even they know this is more important than oxygen; know not to plead for air.

He wills himself to peek through the cracks between his fingers, palms covering his face. He can barely see Todoroki, who's looking down, absent-mindedly playing with his pants again, bangs hiding his face.

"I think of you so much I can't sleep." A hushed, steady voice repeats, and it still manages to steal the remaining breath hitched in his throat. "You're everywhere. I can barely focus during training with Endeavor. I can barely do anything but think of you. Of us getting ice cream. Over and over again. So." 

Burning. His cheeks are burning against his hands. His lungs—They are on fire, but he can't bring himself to inhale; his body won't cooperate, refuses to believe staying alive is greater than this.

He'll blow them up.

He'll fucking blow them both up at this rate.

"So. I do want to stay with you. I do want to do this again," Todoroki pauses, the tense silence stretching on for a few seconds. Then, the faintest whisper, bound to go unheard if the earth did not stop its turning for this moment and this moment alone: "And I do know what it means."

Katsuki's unsure if his hands are trembling when he finally puts them down, hesitant as they lay on the wooden bench instead, eager, eager, eager to touch the boy beside him.

(It's hard to resist; his heart continues to yell, its shouts echoing painfully throughout his ribcage: Just fucking kiss him, kiss him, he's ours, kiss him—)

"Todoroki," He tries to sound collected, but his traitorous piece of shit of a body betrays him, voice strained. Breathy. The air is a fucking furnace, more than it should be, and Katsuki leans into the source. Crowds him. "Look at me."

The noise of trimmed nails on fabric stops. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly, Todoroki lifts his head, meeting the red eyes towering over him, finally showing his face, and it's—Flushed. Fucking flushed. A dark shade of pink tints his cheeks, and he's clearly trying to force indifference onto his face, but it's pointless; Katsuki watches the blush as it spreads, the slight quiver of pretty lips, and oh fuck, it's too much, this view is too much to handle, it's too fucking cute, too—

"Bakugou," The whisper tickles his mouth, their faces so close. The blond's focused stare stays unwavering, too busy to answer as dilated pupils burn the rare, heart attack-inducing view into his brain, but that seems like enough of a reply. "Don't you want to stay with me, too?"

Fucking hell.

Fucking hell.

He considers reaching out and smashing their mouths together but stops, thanks to whatever tiny-ass rational part of him left reminding him one spark could blow shit up. "I need you to fuckin' stop cookin' us alive so I can show you just how much."

"I'm obviously trying," Todoroki argues, frowning as his brows draw together, cheeks pink, pink, pink, pink. "It's just—It's not working."

Okay.

Okay. That's like. That's like the cutest fucking shit ever. It's going to make him feral, going to drive him insane. Also not to fucking mention, being able to be the one doing the tormenting feels so fucking good. (No, he is not a sadist.)

"Why not?" He grins, butterflies uncontrollable, pushing, pushing, pushing into Todoroki's space. "Something's got you hot and bothered, Halfie?"

"Bakugou, can you—Bakugou, you're too close." He snaps, more flustered than anything, and it only makes Katsuki laugh, loud and teasing as a pair of hands plant themselves on his chest, trying to push him away or at the very least put some space between them. Of course, Katsuki doesn't budge. "And stop smiling like that, it's not helping. Stop laughing."

Laughter echoes from the street to balconies—the only part of this that'll ever be shared with others—before it dies off as he calms down. When he comes to, Todoroki's silent as ever, watching him with a glint in his eyes, and it creates lazy bubbles at the surface of the lava. The previously defensive hands on his chest slacken, permitting him to get closer. (He doesn't think it's possible; Todoroki's squished against the backrest. Fucking pinned, really.)

Still. Faces close like this, he's fucking pretty, as always. As always.

"You are annoying," He monotonously says, beyond fucking done with his shit, but the pink that remains on his face indicates otherwise. "I take back everything I said."

"You ain't takin' back shit. You can't." It doesn't look like there's steam coming off him anymore, so Katsuki holds the back of his neck. An implication, a warning, a promise to an event his heart has been waiting for since soil has known rain. And Todoroki does this little tilt of his head, shifting to a better angle so Katsuki can perfectly slot their mouths together as he flutters his stupidly breathtaking eyes shut, and—And that's enough of an answer.

But. But he's greedy. He's so fucking greedy, so he makes Todoroki wait a bit, just a bit more so he can burn this view into his brain, too: the faint crease in the middle of his brows, his slightly parted lips, the unusual rosiness dusting his pale skin fading away—This whole fucking expression he's making. Like Todoroki wants this, too. Waited for it.

He frowns. Frowns, not because it's bad. Not because he dislikes that his shitty feelings are reciprocated. Frowns, because Todoroki's pretty. Todoroki's so pretty, too pretty like this. Too fucking pretty it makes his heart swell, makes it hurt, a dull ache that breaks him from within, and he almost contemplates clawing his heart out of his chest to prove it would continue to pump blood even when torn from its arteries, because it doesn't beat for Katsuki's body, but that Todoroki is near.

Eyes still shut, Todoroki curls a gentle hand in the neck of his shirt.

"Bakugou," He gives a little impatient tug. Doesn't open his eyes. Doesn't dare to. "Bakugou, kiss—"

Katsuki leans in.

And loses his shit the second their lips connect. 

Like. Fuck. Fuck. Talk about a fucking backstabbing bitch. He thought the merciless urges calmed down, but hell no, it all comes crashing over and not down. It's everything yet nothing all at once because the butterflies carved a hole in his gut for his heart to drop out of his fucking ass, and he's trying not to start his quirk up because, holy fucking shit, Shouto's lips. His nerves are fried, overwhelmed, unable to report back to his brain how fucking life-changing this feels.

He can't hear anything. He can't hear anything. It's just this ringing in his ears, the stupid needles in his fingertips, where one of his hands continues to card through the soft locks on Shouto's nape while his right pushes against the bench, supporting his weight as it without a fucking doubt dampens the wood there, his stupid damn quirk plummeting out of line.

It's—It's clumsy. Clumsy, because Shouto's mouth moves slower compared to his; steady, nervous, cautiously experimenting. Clumsy, because Katsuki's cruel yearning is so evident in the way his mouth moves like he's fighting a war against himself, fighting between kissing the light out of Shouto or just barely turning it on; an unrelenting flame with a soft glow.

He has to get his shit together. Has to.

He blocks out the ringing in his ear. Pushes the flutter in his stomach all the fucking way down. Tilting his head a little more, he finally matches a slow pace as he takes Shouto's bottom lip between his own, kissing it, the unhurried push before he pulls it in again, like a tide calmly rolling back and forth to its shore.

Good. Good. So fucking good. Holy shit, kissing him is so fucking good, with the way Katsuki feels him relax, Shouto's limbs easing into the bench like nothing else matters anymore, and of course he takes it as a sign to shift his hand from moist wood to Shouto's thigh instead, letting his hand just rest there. Hold it.

(Usually, he doesn't hesitate with anything he does; Katsuki does everything with purpose, with confidence, yet his fingers tremble a bit as they feel Shouto's thigh beneath their touch, and his brain confirms this is real, this is real, this is fucking happening, this is—)

Still. Still, he's greedy. So, he can't help himself from giving a little lick, teasing Shouto with his tongue, and he fucking gasps, makes this soft noise that Katsuki immediately swallows, keeping it safe where it's only for him, where it travels down his throat and joins his burning lungs.

This way his noises can't slip out, can't be shared with the rest of the world—But, somehow, a small woosh grazes the air anyway, then a smooth sound of a breeze from something similar to an air conditioner.

Hold on.

What?

Katsuki slows, keeping Shouto's lower lip motionless between the gentle bite of his teeth. Opens his eyes. Blinks, and only then does it hit him how fucking warm it is around them, how clammy his hands are, the red strands of Shouto's hair on fucking fire and he realizes the whirring is his cold side activating to level the temperature.

They're fucking melting. They're melting.

Shit.

He quickly pulls away even though every part of him screams to stay, leaning back into his seat, scooching a little farther, and it's hot, hot, hot, hot everywhere, their breaths faintly echoing as their chests calmly rise and fall for air.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It's—There's so much shit happening, his heartbeat is so damn fast, and his stomach hurts like hell, hurts to pull away when he can finally want and get.

Retracting his hand from Shouto's thigh, he runs his palms against his pants so the other's quirk doesn't set his off, body on autopilot because not a part of him is here yet, brain looping the sensation of their lips touching over and over and over and—

"Bakugou."

He blinks into existence. Looks to the right and contemplates saying fuck it, fuck this bus stop, fuck this city, fuck being discreet and not making an explosion, because holy shit Shouto is going to fucking kill him looking like that.

His half-lidded eyes don't leave Katsuki's as he swiftly runs a hand through his coloured hair, carelessly putting out the tame fire. 

Fuuuck, Katsuki just wants to beat the shit out of him.

"Stay there." The reasonable part of him forces him to say, stupid heart sobbing as it slips out his mouth. "Stay there, you're—We're gonna blow shit up."

Shouto's immediately shaking his head, a whistle piercing the air as he furiously cools it, cools them, and the cold feels so damn good on his clammy hands, on his forehead. Katsuki opens his lips to let it envelop the inside of his mouth, let it travel all the way down his stomach to freeze the lava into igneous rock.

He shuts his eyes. Flexes his fingers, testing his muscles, feeling his hands dry completely. Tries not to lose his shit over Shouto trying so hard to prove everything's okay so Katsuki can kiss him dumb again. Kiss him enough to lose control over his quirk.

The bench creaks, and he doesn't have to open his eyes to know Shouto's moved closer (so impatient, so desperate, so spoiled), but Katsuki does anyway. And the sight of—of his face, of his disheveled hair, it does something. A lot of things. Tests his sanity and restraint and the pathetic thread his willpower is hanging by.

"See? I have it under control." He licks his lips, the bottom one already glossy from the blond's ministrations, and Katsuki breaks eye contact to follow the action, follow the small glimpse of a tongue before it's gone.

He doesn't reply, feigns nonchalance, all unbothered like he's not trying his fucking hardest not to drag Shouto to an alleyway.

A soft frown takes over Shouto's mouth. He looks a little helpless like that. It makes something turn in him. Still, Katsuki only stares, doesn't indulge him. Watches as Shouto leans forward until he feels a mouth hover by the side of his jaw. 

"Please," The whisper hits the shell of his ear, and he has to fight off the fattest fucking shiver. "Please, Katsuki. Don't you want to kiss me?"

Oh, fuck.

Yeah.

Yeah, fuck this bus stop. Fuck this city and fuck everything and fuck all of this.

He drapes an arm over the backrest, the other wrapping around the back of Shouto's neck, pulling him away from his ear. He brings him in, in, in, in then stops just before their mouths touch, because Katsuki is cruel and Shouto doesn't mind how mean he gets.

Yeah, his heart beats for him. But he's never had Shouto like this before, like putty in his hands and under his touch, giving up control.

(He's pretty sure the lack of sleep is mostly why Shouto's been pushed to this extent, almost as if he's one more rejection away from whining, from staining his cute cheeks with tears.

Katsuki's not that cruel.)

"Didn't know you could get so polite," He murmurs, their lips brushing as his mouth moves with each syllable. "A li'l kissing's all it takes to get you like this?"

Long fingers slip into blond hair, holding his head but refraining from pulling him closer. "Katsuki. Katsuki, shut up and kiss me."

He grins. Tries not to laugh.

It's—It's real fucking nice, this feeling. The residue of the previously way too fucking intense emotions now watered down, never weak, never forgotten, but at the moment they buzz into the background rather than take up his whole fucking brain.

Shouto closes his eyes as Katsuki pulls him in, connecting their lips. It's... It's—Fuck. Fuck. Kissing him is just so easy. Too fucking easy, he doesn't have to think about it, doesn't have to do shit but let instincts take over.

He feels Shouto's body slacken, melting, melting, melting onto the backrest, not trying to hold himself up anymore as he tugs Katsuki closer and closer, and of course he follows even though there's nowhere else to fucking go, no gap left to close until he pries Shouto's legs open and scoots in between them, his other hand resting on his hip.

He gives a subtle lick; a question, a request, and Shouto immediately accepts as he parts his lips for him to slip his tongue in.

Ice cream.

The faint taste of ice cream. A hint of something sweet before it turns bitter, and between the daze he's under, his brain eventually clicks: Strawberry and matcha.

Running the tip of his tongue along under Shouto's upper teeth, something so, so fucking awful turns his stomach upside down when he feels the graze of sharp canines.

That's so hot. That's so fucking hot. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He leans an inch away for both of them to breathe, but Shouto's spoiled and needy as he takes Katsuki's bottom lip and tugs, heavy heterochromatic eyes opening to steal a glimpse, and holy shit he tries so fucking hard not to blow both of them up—That's so fucking hot.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck yo—

"Katsuki," Shouto says all breathlessly, all desperately, a sound that's going to forever replay in his fucking brain. His stomach drops, drops, drops, feels like he's being strangled, shoved underwater to drown. But seeing Shouto like this, he can't help but think that his yearning smothers him, too. That he probably didn't have a fucking clue what to name what he was feeling, being sheltered all his life like that, exposed to nothing but dread.

"Katsuki," Shouto kisses him again and again and again as if he can't wait enough to finish whatever shit he was gonna say, and there it is again: something shitty, ugly, intense in the pit of his stomach. Katsuki wants to hold him and never let him fucking go.

"Kats—"

"Stop," He calmly interrupts, Shouto frozen as he blinks up at him, red and white hair messily spilling over the backrest as he leans his head back on it. So fucking pretty. So fucking pretty like this. "Stop. Breathe, yeah? We'll—We'll fuckin' kiss."

For a bit, Shouto doesn't say anything. Only bats his long-ass eyelashes as Katsuki towers over him. "We'll kiss?"

Hell, yeah. "Yeah, we'll kiss."

"Okay, kiss me now."

"No, not now."

"You just said we'll kiss."

"Yeah, I fuckin' know. We will kiss."

Shouto frowns. "Okay, will you kiss me now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"'Cause—'Cause we're at a fuckin' bus stop and you're drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"I don't care, kiss me. Want you to kiss me."

He's about to tear his hair out. "Can you shut the hell up with that?"

The bastard huffs but shuts his mouth. Huffs. Katsuki spares him one last glance before he moves away and sits back in his place, beside him, 'cause one more look at a view like that will fucking kill him.

Bringing his shirt to his mouth, he wipes it dry with the hem, ears pink. Definitely pink, because they're always fucking snitching.

There's a breeze again. He can feel it from the other side, hot summer air fighting the chill as it gets cooled, steadily making its way around to him. 

It's Shouto, because of course it is.

They were about to make a fucking explosion with him sweating like that and Shouto so flustered he was roasting them alive, bound to spark his quirk.

It's kinda funny, really.

No, it's not. Fuck. Fuck, they're at a bus stop. Good fucking thing this one isn't facing the street, otherwise whatever amount of cars passed by would've had one fucking show.

And Katsuki's sure as hell not fine with sharing. 

He peeks at Shouto. Runs his eyes over his annoyingly tempting face, illuminated by the giant-ass screen in the glass wall. He looks like he's not here yet, with his soft features and wrinkled shirt. But his body cools Katsuki anyway.

I want more.

Shit. So much for having feelings for the bastard beside him, only for them to have their first kiss on a random day, on a shitty-ass bench of a fucking bus shelter.

But—But that seems like them. That's them.

"How long?" Suddenly comes from his right.

What, he's about to ask, before it clicks.

How long?

How long did you feel this way?

"I don't fuckin' know." Always, I think. It just took a while to realize. "But I fuckin'—I fuckin' knew it the first time we got ice cream, when we were headin' back to the dorms. You smiled."

"I smiled," Shouto repeats, slowly.

"Yeah," He glances away. "You?"

"Longer than you, I think."

"You think?"

"I... I didn't know," Shouto says. "I didn't know."

Katsuki swallows. So, he was right. Must've been shittier, not knowing. Just wanting and wanting and wanting. Going crazy.

Part of him wants to pull Shouto in. Never let go, even if it means suffocating him in the crook of his neck, because it's safer there anyway. Katsuki would make sure of it.

Instead, he cocks his head to the side. "Longer, huh? Why didn't you say shit, then?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you think you would've kissed me if I told you before we got ice cream together?"

"Prolly, yeah." Definitely. Always.

"Well, it's fine." He sits upright, patting his shirt down in an attempt to make it straight. It doesn't work; Katsuki's ruined it with all the manhandling. "Now you can't say we're not friends."

Are you being fucking serious right now?

"Do you want this bus stop to turn into a fuckin' crime scene?" Katsuki genuinely asks, leaning closer into the other's space, their thighs pressing together.

Wait. Shouto's smiling.

Oh. He's fucking with me.

"Wow. Killing me right after we started dating." Shit, he likes the sound of that. Really likes the sound of that. "You know, that would still be your longest relationship."

This fucking bitch.

"I'm gonna shove my IC card so far up your ass, you'll be able to pay by just openin' your mouth."

"Actually, it wouldn't work becau—" Katsuki kisses him, pressing him to the bench. Feels good to shut him up like this. Such an annoying bastard. (His, his, his.)

When he pulls away, he fucking swears he sees Shouto trying to chase after his lips, craning his neck up to reach, and—Shit. Hell no, that's going to fuck with him. 

"Hey," Katsuki starts seriously, frowning, "if you do that shit, I might kiss you to death."

"Kiss me to death?" Shouto's eyes wander everywhere on his face. "Can you really do that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I can." I really fucking can.

For a bit, they don't say anything. But then Shouto gets this look on his face, one he can't read. "You're very pretty."

Katsuki's heart stops. Truly almost has a heart attack, and he considers pounding his chest once or twice to get it to work right again but somehow, he manages to keep a steady voice. "Look who's talkin'."

"I can't look at myself right now."

Too busy fighting off a heart stroke, he doesn't bother to roll his eyes nor explain the phrase. And then, as if Shouto's out for his neck, he says again: "You're very pretty."

"Sometimes," He pauses like he's trying to find words that could do whatever he's going to say justice. "Sometimes, it hurt to look at you. Because you're so pretty."

And I couldn't touch, Katsuki's heart finishes, because he understands. Knows.

(Melting. Melting, melting, melting.)

He lowers his gaze to Shouto's lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," He replies gently, it almost being only a soft breath of air. Looks at Katsuki with eyes that glitter. Tired features. "Wanted to kiss you. So I took your ice cream."

Oh.

So that's what all of that was about.

"I couldn't stop thinking of you," Shouto's voice drops, the confession only for his ears to hear. Like anyone else could even steal it. Like anyone else is even around. "I couldn't stop thinking of you, Katsuki."

The thing with Shouto is that he has no filter. Doesn't know when to shut the hell up; says things as they are. The thing with Shouto is that he bottles up his emotions until they consume him, and one day that will be his downfall.

It's fine. Katsuki plans to change that. To shatter the bottle and let all the emotions paint him. To strip Shouto down to his soul; not a boy, nor a quirk project, nor a carefully built weapon.

The bus should be here soon. Has it even been thirty minutes? Maybe it'll come in ten.

"I couldn't sleep," He says, like he can't help it. "Because you're very pretty, I couldn't sleep."

Katsuki stares at Shouto. And then he softly kisses him.

"Shouto," He pecks him again. "Come to my house. We'll get you some sleep, yeah?"