Chapter Text
Soft morning sunlight filtered through half-drawn curtains, casting a gentle glow across the small apartment bedroom. Todoroki Shoto stirred awake slowly, blinking sleep from his mismatched eyes. Warmth radiated against his back – the solid, familiar presence of Bakugou Katsuki still curled around him from behind. In the quiet dawn, Shoto smiled to himself. Mornings like this had become their cherished routine: waking entwined in each other’s arms, sharing the first moments of day in peaceful silence.
Katsuki’s arm was draped over Shoto’s waist, his palm resting on the toned plane of Shoto’s stomach beneath the thin fabric of a sleep shirt. Even in sleep, Bakugou held him protectively close. Shoto covered Katsuki’s hand with his own, marveling at the contrast: his fingers gently tracing a faint scar along Katsuki’s knuckles, a remnant from countless training sessions and battles. Once, those hands only knew how to destroy. Now, they held Shoto with unparalleled tenderness.
A soft sigh tickled the back of Shoto’s neck as Katsuki began to wake. The blonde shifted, nose burrowing for a moment into the crook of Shoto’s shoulder. Shoto felt a quiet flutter of happiness at the mundane intimacy. Without opening his eyes, Katsuki mumbled, voice husky from sleep, “Mornin’...”
Shoto laced their fingers together over his stomach. “Good morning,” he whispered back. He tilted his head enough to press a light kiss to Katsuki’s forearm. In response, Katsuki tightened his embrace for a brief second a silent hug before relaxing again. They lingered like that, savoring warmth and tranquility, neither in a rush to leave the cocoon of blankets and each other.
Eventually, Katsuki shifted onto his back and stretched, his joints popping quietly. Shoto rolled over to face him. Tousled ash-blonde hair stuck out in all directions; half-lidded red eyes blinked at the ceiling, still heavy with sleep. The early sun gilded Katsuki’s sharp features, making him look softer than usual. Shoto’s heart felt full just looking at him.
“Sleep okay?” Katsuki asked, turning his gaze to meet Shoto’s. Despite his gruff tone, concern flickered in his eyes always checking if Shoto had any nightmares or restless nights.
Shoto nodded. “I did. And you?”
“Mm.” Katsuki shrugged one shoulder. “Can’t complain. You didn’t hog the blankets for once.” His lips quirked into a teasing smirk.
Shoto huffed a quiet laugh. This small talk was comfortable, peppered with playful jabs and soft looks. “I don’t hog the blankets every time,” he protested gently.
“You kinda do,” Katsuki snorted, then relented with a smirk. “But I guess I’m runnin’ hot enough that I don’t need ’em.” As if to demonstrate, he tugged Shoto closer by their still-linked hands. Shoto gladly scooted nearer until their foreheads almost touched on the pillow.
He could feel Katsuki’s breath, warm against his face. “You are pretty warm,” Shoto murmured, free hand idly tracing along Katsuki’s bare arm. He could sense the gentle thrum of heat from Katsuki’s quirk beneath the surface. Combined with Shoto’s own naturally cooler side, it made sharing a bed surprisingly balanced one of them a furnace, the other cooler to the touch.
Katsuki rolled his eyes mildly. “Yeah, well. Perks of dating Half-and-Half,” he said, using the old nickname but in a tone that had long since lost any edge. Now it was practically an endearment that made Shoto’s lips twitch in a smile.
“Perks, huh? I thought you hated waking up cold,” Shoto replied, feigning ignorance with a slight tilt of his head.
“Tch. I hate waking up alone more,” Katsuki muttered so quietly Shoto almost missed it. A hint of pink warmed the tips of his ears. He quickly sat up to hide it, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “C’mon, I’ll make breakfast.”
Shoto propped himself up on one elbow, watching Katsuki pad shirtless across the bedroom to grab a t-shirt. Even now, the sight made heat bloom in Shoto’s chest admiration and love rolled into one. Long gone were the days when he only saw Bakugou Katsuki as the brash, explosive boy from class. This Katsuki was his Katsuki, still brash, yes, but also caring in his own way, hardworking, and fiercely loving.
Katsuki tugged the shirt on and glanced back at Shoto still lounging in bed. “You just gonna stare, Icyhot, or you comin’?” he challenged, trying to sound annoyed but failing thanks to the small grin pulling at his lips.
With an amused exhale, Shoto slid out of bed. The floor was a little chilly under his feet until he found his slippers. “I’m coming,” he said. As he passed by Katsuki, Shoto leaned up a fraction Katsuki automatically bent down the rest of the way, meeting him in a brief, sweet good-morning kiss. It was unhurried and soft, Katsuki’s hand coming up to cup Shoto’s jaw for a moment. Even after they parted, the tender pressure of Katsuki’s palm lingered like a promise of the day to come.
They went about their morning routine with practiced ease. In the kitchen, Katsuki set water to boil and pulled ingredients from the fridge, moving with confidence and purpose as he cracked eggs and chopped vegetables. Shoto hovered beside him, reaching for the teapot and loose leaves to brew their morning tea. It always went like this: Katsuki cooked, Shoto handled the tea or coffee and set the table. A division of labor that required few words, each anticipating what the other needed.
When Katsuki reached for a pan on a higher shelf, Shoto was already stepping forward to pass it to him. Their fingers brushed, and Katsuki shot him a quick, grateful look. The corners of Shoto’s mouth lifted in return. Silence between them was never awkward now; it was companionable. Only the sizzle of eggs and vegetables and the clink of dishware filled the air.
A few minutes later, Katsuki slid a perfectly made omelet onto each plate. He had sprinkled Shoto’s with a bit of extra seaweed seasoning he remembered Shoto mentioning how he liked that taste. It was a small detail, but Shoto noticed and his chest warmed with affection.
“Thank you,” Shoto said softly as he sat at the small dining table.
Katsuki joined him with two steaming mugs of green tea that Shoto had prepared, setting one by Shoto’s plate. “Eat up,” he said brusquely, though his eyes were gentle. They ate in comfortable quiet, knees bumping under the table occasionally, a soft grunt of satisfaction from Katsuki when he tasted his own cooking and saw Shoto enjoying it.
They tidied up the kitchen together, falling into an easy rhythm born of practice.
In the end, Katsuki did the scrubbing while Shoto dried and put away, working side by side in sync.
As Shoto slid the last plate into the cabinet, he glanced sideways at Katsuki. Without thinking, he reached up to lightly brush a soapy bubble off Katsuki’s cheekbone with his thumb. Katsuki looked at him in surprise, then huffed a soft laugh. He turned his face and pressed a quick kiss to Shoto’s palm, his wet hand coming up to hold Shoto’s wrist for a second.
Shoto’s heart fluttered at the sweet gesture. For a moment they simply looked at each other Shoto’s eyes shining, Katsuki’s gaze uncharacteristically tender. In that quiet moment, they needed no words. Everything between them the warmth, the trust, the love that had grown so naturally was understood.
Finally Katsuki cleared his throat, releasing Shoto’s hand. “Alright. We should get moving or we’ll be late for patrol,” he muttered, sounding a bit begrudging, as if he wouldn’t have minded lingering in their domestic bubble a while longer.
Shoto nodded. “Right. I’ll get ready.” He gave Katsuki’s hand one last squeeze, then headed off to change into his hero uniform. As he left the kitchen, he felt Katsuki’s eyes following him a comfortable weight of affection on his back.
Their morning routine was ordinary by any measure, but to Shoto it felt precious. Every shared smile and playful jab was a reminder of how far they’d come together. And as he fastened the last piece of his uniform a short while later, Shoto found himself smiling for no reason except that he was happy and he was loved.
Class 1-A managed to gather for a reunion party at Kirishima’s apartment, and the place hummed with laughter and music as everyone let loose and caught up.
In the midst of the lively chaos, Bakugou Katsuki and Todoroki Shoto naturally gravitated toward each other. They ended up side by side on the couch, slightly apart from the loudest festivities. Shoto sat with one leg tucked under him, shoulder snug against Katsuki’s. Katsuki draped an arm along the back of the couch behind Shoto – casual-looking, but also a silent claim and a source of comfort for them both.
They watched their friends’ antics with amused eyes. When Mina managed to coax a blushing Jirou into a dance, Shoto felt a chuckle rise in his chest. He leaned in to murmur an observation to Katsuki some dry quip about how even the ever-stoic Iida was tapping his foot off-beat. Katsuki snorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a grin reserved just for Shoto. Without thinking, he let his hand slide down from the couch back to gently toy with a strand of Shoto’s two-toned hair. The gesture was absentminded and tender, fingers twirling a bit of red-and-white between them. Shoto’s heart skipped at the affectionate touch; he relaxed further into Katsuki’s side, angling his body subtly into the circle of Katsuki’s arm.
Across the room, Midoriya Izuku found his attention straying toward the pair on the couch again and again. He stood near the refreshment table, ostensibly listening to Uraraka talk about a recent mission. But his green eyes kept drifting over Ochaco’s shoulder, drawn to the sight of Kacchan and Todoroki sitting so closely together.
Izuku had known they were dating – he was one of the few that had noticed the shift, the change in their interactions had been impossible to miss. At the time, Izuku had felt a mix of surprise and something he couldn’t quite name. He told himself he was happy for his friends. And he was, truly. But tonight, watching the easy intimacy between them, a different emotion churned in his chest.
He saw how Kacchan’s normally sharp features softened when he looked at Todoroki. How Todoroki’s reserved demeanor warmed in Kacchan’s presence, a tiny smile playing on his lips at something Kacchan said. He saw Kacchan’s hand brush against Todoroki’s shoulder as he leaned in to whisper in Todoroki’s ear; Todoroki responded by passing his half-finished drink into Kacchan’s free hand without a word, as if he already knew Kacchan would want a sip. Sure enough, Kacchan took a swig from Todoroki’s glass with the familiarity of long practice, then returned it. Such a small, natural exchange yet it spoke volumes about their closeness.
Izuku’s heart clenched. That could have been me, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. He remembered a cold evening six years ago under UA’s training field lights, when Kacchan had stood before him, fists trembling not with anger for once, but with vulnerable anticipation. Katsuki’s confession had been halting, almost angry in its delivery, but the meaning had been clear: feelings laid bare that Izuku had never expected to hear from his childhood friend and rival.
In that moment, Izuku had panicked. He hadn’t been ready unsure if he could return those feelings and Ochaco’s bright smile had been foremost in his mind. So he let Kacchan down as gently as he could. He’d thought they were too volatile together, that maybe Kacchan didn’t *really* know what he wanted. And a part of Izuku… a part of him had been curious what if, but ultimately, he said no.
Now, watching Kacchan laugh softly at something Todoroki murmured, Izuku felt a sting of regret so sharp it nearly took his breath away. Back then, he had gone on to pursue Uraraka. He and Ochaco dated for a while – he believed that was what he wanted. But things with Ochaco had gently fizzled out in third year; they realized they were better as friends. By the time Izuku might have reconsidered his choice, Kacchan had drifted firmly into Todoroki’s orbit.
Izuku knew Kacchan looked happy with Todoroki. Yet jealousy coiled in his stomach tonight, bitter and unwelcome. He tried to ignore it, focusing on stirring the ice in his cup as Ochaco chatted on. But his gaze kept sliding back to the couch: to the way Todoroki’s eyes visibly brightened when Kacchan reached up to wipe a crumb of food from Todoroki’s lips; to how Todoroki shyly bumped his shoulder against Kacchan in thanks, earning a smirk and an affectionate roll of Kacchan’s eyes.
Each stolen look fed the ache in Izuku’s chest.
“Deku? You okay?” Ochaco’s voice finally cut through, gentle and concerned.
Izuku jolted, realizing he’d been miles away. “Ah! Yeah, I’m fine,” he lied, mustering a quick smile. He set down his barely-touched drink. “Sorry, I got distracted. What were you saying?”
Ochaco gave him a searching look, but before she could press, a crash from the other side of the room drew everyone’s attention – Kaminari had tripped over a stack of stray weights (why did Kirishima have those out at a party?!), and was now sheepishly being scolded by a flustered Momo. The momentary chaos gave Izuku an excuse to slip away from Ochaco’s worried eyes.
He wandered through the party, exchanging greetings and small talk, but inevitably he drifted closer to the couch where Kacchan and Todoroki sat. Izuku hung back just out of their direct sight, pretending to be engrossed in the bowl of punch on the side table.
By now Kirishima had come over to say hi to the couple and then bounded off elsewhere, leaving Katsuki and Shoto alone again. Izuku took a breath and finally stepped forward.
“Hey, Kacchan,” he greeted, keeping his voice as light as he could.
Katsuki glanced up, mildly surprised. “Deku.” He gave a short nod. His arm was still around Shoto, though he shifted slightly on the couch to give Izuku more of his attention. “You enjoying the party, nerd?”
Todoroki offered Izuku a polite nod. “Good evening, Midoriya.”
Izuku returned the nod with a smile. “Yeah, it’s great to see everyone again.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then directed his next question at Katsuki, unable to help himself from prying a little. “What about you, Kacchan? I’m surprised you came – you usually hate crowds like this.”
Katsuki shrugged, a quick glance at Shoto betraying his true reason. “I manage,” he said. “It’s not so bad.”
Shoto’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. Izuku could tell Katsuki had come because Todoroki wanted to, or at least because it was tolerable with Todoroki by his side.
“That’s good,” Izuku replied. He suddenly found himself at a loss for what to say next. Part of him wanted to insert himself somehow into their little bubble, to maybe recapture even a scrap of the closeness he used to have with Kacchan. But with Todoroki right there, settled comfortably under Kacchan’s arm, Izuku felt more like an intruder than a friend.
A brief awkward silence fell. Todoroki sipped his drink quietly, eyes flicking between Katsuki and Izuku as if sensing an undercurrent. Katsuki cleared his throat and tried to fill the void. “You still geeking out over All Might’s latest book or what?” he asked Izuku gruffly, a teasing glint in his eyes.
Izuku managed a laugh, grateful for the semi-normal question. He launched into a quick, animated reply about the new training techniques outlined in All Might’s memoir. Katsuki rolled his eyes, muttering “nerd” under his breath, but he listened, and Todoroki politely did too. For a few moments, it felt like old times just friends talking.
But all too soon, the conversation hit another lull. Izuku’s gaze kept snagging on little details: the way Kacchan’s thumb absently stroked Todoroki’s shoulder; how Todoroki seemed content to lean into Katsuki’s side, silent but obviously happy. It hurt, in a quiet, persistent way.
Desperate to keep talking (and to ignore that hurt), Izuku blurted, “Todoroki, how have you been? You two have been working together a lot, right? I heard you handled that Shinjuku villain incident really well.”
Todoroki sat up slightly, seemingly happy to let Izuku shift the focus. He described the mission in his usual straightforward, modest way, giving more credit to Katsuki’s quick thinking than his own contribution. Katsuki snorted at that but didn’t disagree, merely adding a gruff remark that the press overstated their heroics.
Izuku nodded along. He noticed how even in telling a simple mission story, Todoroki and Kacchan spoke with a comfortable rhythm, one of them picking up where the other left off, as though they shared one mind. It was lovely, and it made Izuku’s chest ache.
As the music inside swelled again, Katsuki grimaced and stretched. “I need some fresh air,” he declared, apparently done with being sociable.
He shot Shoto a look – a silent invitation or request. Shoto immediately scooted off the couch. Izuku stepped aside, expecting they’d head to the balcony together.
Katsuki tossed a brief glance at Izuku. “Catch you later, Deku,” he said, in a tone that was polite enough but clearly dismissive. Then he placed a hand at the small of Shoto’s back and guided him through the crowd toward the balcony.
Izuku remained standing by the vacated couch, feeling the sting of being quietly dismissed. He watched through the glass doors as Katsuki and Todoroki stepped out onto the small balcony, the city lights beyond them. Katsuki immediately pulled Todoroki close against his side for warmth; Todoroki slipped his arms around Katsuki’s waist and smiled up at him. From inside, the couple was a silhouetted tableau of intimacy against the night sky.
Izuku’s throat tightened. They looked so right together. He realized with a sinking heart that for all his dreams of the past, this was the reality: Kacchan had someone who fit him perfectly, and it wasn’t Izuku.
Still… Izuku’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He wasn’t ready to surrender hope yet. Maybe it was selfish no, it was selfish! but the regret and jealousy eating at him wouldn’t let go.
He had to know if Kacchan still harbored any of those old feelings.
Izuku turned away from the balcony, determination hardening in his gut. If there was even the smallest part of Kacchan that still wondered about what could have been with them, Izuku needed to find out. He would find a way – however subtle – to test those waters. I won’t let him go without trying, he vowed to himself, guilt and desire warring in his chest.
In the days following the party, Izuku made a point to be around Katsuki and Shoto more often. At first, Shoto didn’t think much of it – Izuku was their friend and colleague, after all. But as the encounters added up, Shoto began to feel an undercurrent of something… off.
One afternoon, after a joint patrol ended uneventfully, the three of them grabbed lunch together at a small ramen shop near their agency. They squeezed into a booth: Shoto and Katsuki on one side, Izuku across from them. The air was filled with the rich scent of broth and spices as they waited for their orders.
Izuku started reminiscing casually, stirring his water glass with a straw. “It’s funny being on patrol like this together,” he said with a smile. “Reminds me of our school days. I mean, we’ve come a long way since U.A., huh?”
Katsuki shrugged. “Tch, obviously. We’re pros now.”
Izuku’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward. “Or that time we all went to the summer training camp,” he continued excitedly. “Kacchan got captured by those villains and I was going crazy trying to find him.”
Katsuki’s expression stiffened a little at the mention of his capture – an old wound to his pride. Under the table, Shoto felt Katsuki’s leg press against his own; whether Katsuki did it consciously or not, Shoto responded by pressing back gently, offering silent comfort.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t *find* me. The pros did,” Katsuki muttered. Clearly he still hated remembering that night.
Izuku gave a sheepish smile. “True. But I tried. I really thought I might lose you forever.”
An uncomfortable silence fell. Shoto watched Katsuki’s face; the blond looked torn between annoyance and something softer. Shoto reached for his water to hide the frown tugging at his lips. Izuku’s tone had been so heartfelt just now.
Thankfully, their food arrived, breaking the moment. Katsuki immediately focused on his ramen with a gruff “Itadakimasu,” and Shoto followed suit, though his appetite had diminished.
As they ate, Izuku kept steering the conversation down memory lane. He chatted between bites, bringing up stories from their UA days – some that included Shoto, but many that didn’t. He laughed about classroom mishaps, retold inside jokes from their dorm life, and reminded Katsuki of little incidents that only the two of them would recall.
Katsuki mostly responded with snorts or the occasional sarcastic remark, but Shoto could tell he wasn’t completely indifferent. Every now and then, a genuine grin would threaten Katsuki’s scowl when Izuku mentioned something particularly nostalgic. And each time, Shoto felt a tiny pang in his chest.
He wanted to be happy listening to silly school stories. And part of him was – he cared for those memories too. But he also felt… out of place. Like he was peeking through a window at a world where Katsuki and Izuku were inseparable, a world that existed long before Shoto had become close to either of them.
“Hey, Kacchan, do you remember that local summer festival back in middle school?” Izuku piped up after a while, as the meal was winding down. “The one at the Dagoba beach park?”
Katsuki paused, a noodle dangling from his chopsticks. “Hah? Why bring that up now?”
Izuku chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “I don’t know, something about the beach atmosphere we passed earlier made me think of it. We got lost in the crowd and you ended up winning that huge goldfish plush for me at one of the game stalls.”
Shoto blinked in surprise. This was new, Katsuki had never talked about middle school, let alone winning Izuku prizes.
Katsuki groaned, clearly embarrassed. “Geez, you’re dredging up that? I only did it ’cause you sucked at the game and wouldn’t shut up about wanting the prize.”
Izuku’s smile was fond. “Maybe. But you carried that big plush all the way home for me. I never forgot that.”
Katsuki grumbled inarticulately and shoveled more noodles into his mouth, ears pink. Shoto’s gaze darted between them. There was a softness in Izuku’s expression as he looked at Katsuki, a kind of yearning that was impossible to hide. And Katsuki… Shoto knew Katsuki well enough by now to read the fluster under his bravado.
Shoto lowered his eyes to his nearly empty bowl, his appetite gone. A heavy feeling had settled in his stomach. They have so much history, he thought. Shared years of memories , good and bad.
It wasn’t that Shoto resented it. He respected the bond Katsuki and Izuku had developed over time. But as Izuku’s reminiscing continued, Shoto couldn’t help feeling like an outsider listening to two old friends speak in code.
Eventually, Katsuki stretched and declared he was done eating. Izuku had barely touched his own bowl, too busy talking, but he nodded and put down his chopsticks as well. They paid and headed back toward the agency building together.
Walking down the street, Izuku drifted closer to Katsuki’s side. Shoto noticed, of course he noticed! how Izuku would angle himself toward Katsuki whenever he laughed or spoke, as if trying to pull Katsuki’s attention gravitationally. And more than once, Shoto caught Izuku casting Katsuki a wistful, almost longing look when Katsuki wasn’t paying attention.
To his credit, Katsuki seemed largely oblivious. He walked on Shoto’s other side, and Shoto felt a warm pressure as Katsuki’s hand briefly found and squeezed his. The casual squeeze said I’m here and we’re good, and Shoto squeezed back, grateful and reassured for the moment.
As they reached the agency, Izuku cleared his throat and asked with forced lightness, “You two are really good together, you know. It’s… it’s nice to see Kacchan so, um, calm.”
Katsuki raised an eyebrow. “Calm? Who’re you calling calm?” he scoffed, though he smirked a little. “Must be Icyhot’s influence.”
Todoroki gave a small, humble shrug, leaning just a bit into Katsuki’s side. “I think we balance each other out.”
Izuku smiled, but it wavered at the edges. He hesitated, then blurted, “Do you guys… um, live together now?”
Shoto blinked at the unexpected question. “Not yet,” he answered quietly. “We still have our own apartments. But… we spend most nights together. And we are planning to move in soon.” Admitting that made Shoto flush slightly, but he held Izuku’s gaze, proud of how far his relationship with Katsuki had come.
Something unreadable passed over Izuku’s face – surprise, maybe even dismay – before he quickly returned a smile. “That’s great. I’m really happy for you guys,” he said softly.
Katsuki, sensing none of the subtext, just grunted. “Damn right,” he added, almost defensively. “We’ll get a place once we find one that isn’t a dump.”
Izuku gave a tight nod. “Well, I should get going. Lots of paperwork to finish at my end.” He turned to Katsuki, and for a moment his facade faltered. “Kacchan… take care, okay?”
Katsuki frowned, puzzled. “Uh, sure.”
With that, Izuku waved and headed off down the street. Shoto watched him go, an uneasy twist in his gut. Izuku’s tone when saying *take care* sounded almost like a goodbye.
Katsuki clicked his tongue and glanced at Shoto. “What’s with him asking if we live together? Nosy nerd,” he muttered.
Shoto managed a faint smile. “Maybe he was just curious.” He reached for Katsuki’s hand, lacing their fingers right there on the sidewalk. He didn’t care if any passersby (or agency coworkers) saw – he suddenly needed that physical reassurance.
Katsuki squeezed his hand. “Well, it’s nobody’s business but ours,” he said firmly, then eyed Shoto. “You alright? You’ve been kinda quiet.”
Shoto opened his mouth to respond – to say he was fine – but the words caught. Was he fine? Izuku’s lingering looks, that odd question… Something about it left Shoto’s thoughts unsettled. But he didn’t want to jump to conclusions or worry Katsuki over what might be nothing.
“I’m okay,” Shoto lied gently. He mustered a small smile. “Just thinking about which one of our places has less laundry piled up. We should probably decide where to stay tonight.”
Katsuki snorted. “My place, then. Your floor was a disaster this morning.” He tugged Shoto toward the agency doors, letting the subject drop.
That evening, Shoto tried to brush aside the nagging feeling that Midoriya’s interest was more than friendly curiosity. Katsuki was as affectionate as ever, pulling Shoto into his lap on the couch as they watched TV and later kissing him slow and sweet before bed. Shoto melted into those kisses and told himself he’d imagined the tension.
Katsuki chose me, he reminded himself as he drifted to sleep in Katsuki’s arms. I have nothing to worry about.
Still, a seed of uncertainty had been planted in Shoto’s heart. And it wouldn’t be long before his deepest fears were forced to the surface.
A week later, Shoto found himself standing outside Katsuki’s office door after hours. He had finished his own duties early and decided to surprise Katsuki by picking up dinner – the spicy curry Katsuki loved – on his way back. But as he approached the partially ajar door, he heard voices inside, low and tense.
“…didn’t ask you to come here just to dredge up the past,” Katsuki was saying, tone edged with irritation.
“I know,” came Izuku’s voice, soft and pleading. “Just… let me finish, please, Kacchan.”
Shoto’s pulse quickened. He stopped short of the doorway, not meaning to eavesdrop, but unable to announce himself either.
Inside the office, Katsuki stood rigid behind his desk while Izuku faced him. The air between them crackled with emotional charge.
Izuku drew a shaky breath. “I made a mistake, back at U.A.,” he began quietly. “When you… when you told me how you felt, I didn’t know what to do. I was scared, and I hurt you. And I’m so sorry, Kacchan.”
Katsuki let out a sharp exhale. “Deku—”
“Please,” Izuku pressed on, voice wavering. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it lately. About you. Seeing you with Todoroki… it made me realize what I threw away.” His words tumbled out in a rush. “You were always there, pushing me, inspiring me, and I cared about you so much. I think— no, I *know* I felt more than just rivalry. But I was a coward and I chose someone else because it felt easier. And I regret it. I regret it so much.”
Shoto’s breath hitched. He clutched the takeout bag in both hands, knuckles whitening. Izuku’s confession was raw and heartfelt – and every word felt like it was chiseling a crack in Shoto’s chest.
Inside, Izuku took an unsteady step closer to Katsuki. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I just… I need to tell you the truth. And I need to know. Do you ever think about it? About *us* — what we could have been? If I’d said yes… would we have been happy?”
A heavy silence followed. Shoto realized he was trembling ever so slightly, straining to hear Katsuki’s response. His heart pounded, blood rushing loud in his ears.
When Katsuki finally spoke, his voice was low, rough. “You really want to know, Deku?”
Izuku sniffed, sounding on the verge of tears. “I do,” he whispered.
Katsuki swore under his breath. “Yeah. Fine. You want honesty? Here it is.” He paused, and when he continued, his words were measured, as if dredging up something painful. “After you rejected me… I wondered. Hell, I tortured myself for months thinking about what I did wrong, what I could’ve done different. I imagined what it might’ve been like if you hadn’t run off to Round Face. Thought about it every damn night for far too long.”
Izuku let out a tiny, hitched breath, but Katsuki wasn’t done.
“I told myself I wasn’t good enough, that I lost to you in something that actually mattered. It messed me up.” Katsuki’s voice shook with remembered hurt. “So yeah, I *did* think about what could’ve been. Of course I did.”
Shoto felt like his heart was in a vise. He pressed his back against the wall, eyes stinging. He knew Katsuki had been hurt, but hearing the extent of it in Katsuki’s own voice was agonizing.
Inside, Katsuki continued, softer now, “But things changed. I moved on. I wasn’t sure I ever would… then Shoto—” He broke off, voice catching on the name.
Shoto’s eyes widened. He edged closer to the door without thinking, needing to hear that part.
Katsuki took a breath. “Shoto… he found me at my worst and he didn’t give up on me. He made me feel worth something again, bit by bit.” His tone warmed with affection that Shoto could hear plainly even through the door. “He’s… he’s the best damn thing that ever happened to me. I need you to understand that.”
Izuku was silent, but Katsuki pressed on, gaining confidence. “I’m not gonna lie and say I never remember how things were between us, or that I never think about that old stuff. I’m only human. Sometimes a memory pops up, or I wonder for a second. But—”
At that moment, Shoto unconsciously leaned his weight forward, and the toe of his shoe nudged the door. The quiet creak of the hinge might as well have been an explosion in the silence.
Katsuki cut off mid-sentence. “Who’s there?” he barked, alarmed.
Panicked at being caught, Shoto almost froze. But he couldn’t hide now. Slowly, he pushed the door open.
Izuku turned, eyes wide and cheeks wet with tears he hadn’t bothered to wipe. Katsuki stood behind his desk, looking thunderstruck and a little afraid.
Shoto stood in the doorway, heart in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically, his voice barely steady. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“K-Katsuki…” Izuku began, stepping back, guilt written all over his face. “Todoroki, I—”
Shoto couldn’t look at Izuku. His eyes were locked on Katsuki’s. “I came to bring you dinner,” he explained softly, lifting the bag in a slight, meaningless gesture. “I didn’t know… I just got here.”
Katsuki rounded the desk, his movements abrupt. “Shoto, listen, this isn’t—”
Shoto couldn’t do this. Not here, not with Izuku’s confession hanging in the air. His composure was fracturing by the second. “I should go,” he managed to say, voice tight.
“Don’t—!” Katsuki started, reaching out as if to grab him, but he stopped short, torn.
Shoto mustered a tight, polite smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Enjoy the curry,” he whispered. “I’ll… see you at home.”
Before either of them could stop him, Shoto set the takeout bag on a chair by the wall and turned on his heel.
“Shoto!” Katsuki called after him, desperation in his tone, but Shoto kept walking, swift strides carrying him down the hall.
He made it to the elevator and punched the button with more force than necessary. The doors slid open mercifully fast. As they closed behind him, Shoto’s composure shattered.
His vision blurred with tears. He pressed a hand over his mouth to stifle a ragged gasp as the first sob escaped. Katsuki’s words replayed in his head on an agonizing loop: *“Of course I did. I thought about it every damn night… Sometimes I wonder…”*
A choked cry tore from Shoto’s throat. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. He tried to breathe slowly, tried to force down the rising panic, but it was useless. The hurt was overwhelming.
*No matter how much Katsuki says he loves me*, Shoto thought bitterly, *part of him still pines for Midoriya. If Deku had said yes back then… would I even matter now? Was I only ever the second choice?*
The elevator doors opened on the ground floor. Shoto hurried out, head down and vision swimming. He couldn’t face anyone right now. He needed the solitude of his apartment, needed space to process the pain clawing at him from the inside out.
By the time he stepped into the chilled night air outside, tears were flowing freely down his cheeks, hidden by the darkness. The ache in his chest was almost physical, a deep throbbing pain.
Shoto had known that loving Katsuki meant accepting he had a past – accepting the complicated bond he’d shared with Izuku. Shoto thought he’d made peace with that. But here it was, laid bare tonight: Katsuki had loved Izuku deeply, and a piece of that love still lingered in his heart, haunting the corners of their happiness.
It was too much. Shoto wasn’t sure what hurt more – imagining Katsuki broken and longing for Izuku, or fearing that some part of Katsuki might always wonder if he’d be happier with his first love.
All Shoto knew was that it hurt. It hurt so much he could hardly breathe through it.
And for the first time since they’d gotten together, Todoroki Shoto was truly afraid that he could lose the man he loved.
Shoto sat in the stillness of his apartment, the only light a faint glow from the streetlamp outside. He had barely managed to hold himself together on the way home; now, in the silence, the tears he’d been holding back slipped free, one after another.
His phone kept buzzing with Katsuki’s calls and messages, but Shoto couldn’t bring himself to answer.
What could he even say? That the very foundation of his world felt cracked and unsteady? That he was terrified Katsuki’s heart might still belong, even a little, to someone else?
A clap of thunder rumbled outside as rain began to pour, matching Shoto’s turbulent emotions. He curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around his knees, trying to will himself to stop shaking. *Maybe I’m not enough for him,* he thought miserably. *Maybe I never have been.*
A sudden pounding on his front door jolted him upright. Katsuki’s voice, raw and urgent, came muffled through the wood: “Shoto! Open up!”
Shoto’s breath caught. He hastily wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeve and stumbled to his feet. Part of him wanted to hide, to pretend he wasn’t here. But Katsuki wasn’t going anywhere – the pounding came again, louder.
With trembling fingers, Shoto opened the door.
Katsuki stood there in the hallway, rainwater dripping from his ash-blond hair, chest heaving as if he’d sprinted the whole way. The moment his eyes met Shoto’s, relief and worry warred on his face. “Thank god,” he breathed, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation.
Shoto retreated a half-step as Katsuki entered, rain-soaked and frantic. “Katsuki…” he managed, voice hoarse from crying.
Katsuki pushed the door shut behind him. His gaze swept over Shoto, taking in the tear-streaks, the redness around his eyes. Shoto saw Katsuki’s jaw clench, guilt flashing across his face. “You ran off,” Katsuki said, a slight tremor in his tone. “I tried calling—dammit, Shoto, you scared me.”
“I-I’m sorry,” Shoto stammered. He realized Katsuki was shivering; whether from cold or nerves, he wasn’t sure. “I… I didn’t know what to do.”
Katsuki raked a hand through his wet hair. “So you *left*?” he burst out, frustration and hurt bleeding into his voice. “You don’t think you owe me a chance to explain?”
Shoto flinched at the sharpness. Immediately, Katsuki’s expression softened into regret. He scrubbed a palm over his face and took a careful breath. “I didn’t mean to yell,” he muttered. “I was… I am worried. And you… you wouldn’t pick up.”
Shoto swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he said again, quieter this time. His eyes darted anywhere but Katsuki’s face – he wasn’t sure he could bear what he’d see there. “I just… I needed to leave.”
Katsuki stepped closer, dripping water on the floor, but neither of them cared. “I know you heard a lot,” he said, voice rough but pleading. “But you didn’t hear everything. Please, Shoto, let me explain. Let me fix this.”
Shoto’s resolve crumbled at the raw desperation in Katsuki’s tone. He nodded mutely and closed the distance between them by a half-step.
Katsuki reached out as if to touch Shoto’s arm, then hesitated, his hands hovering uncertainly. “I’m so damn sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out. “You shouldn’t have had to hear any of that. Not like that.”
Shoto’s eyes stung, fresh tears threatening. “But it’s how you feel, isn’t it?” he whispered. “You… you *do* wonder what if… with him.” Saying it aloud hurt more than he expected; his voice broke on the last two words.
Katsuki’s face crumpled. “It *was* how I felt,” he insisted. “Past tense. I was talking about *then*, not now. Not after… not after *us*.”
Shoto finally lifted his gaze to meet Katsuki’s. “How can I know that?” he asked, pained. “You said you thought about it every night. That part of you still remembers it. How am I supposed to just ignore that?”
Katsuki made a low, anguished noise. In two quick strides he closed the gap between them and gripped Shoto’s shoulders. “Because I love you,” he said fiercely. “I *choose* you, Shoto. Don’t you get that? Every day I wake up and I—”
Shoto cut him off, voice cracking. “Would you have chosen me if he hadn’t rejected you?” There it was – the ugly fear laid bare. Shoto’s eyes searched Katsuki’s, desperate and sad. “If… if he had wanted you too, would you ever have looked at me the way you do now?”
Katsuki’s breath caught. For a heartbeat, the only sound was rain pelting the window. Shoto could see the conflict in Katsuki’s eyes as he wrestled with the question.
“Maybe not then,” Katsuki admitted quietly at last. Shoto’s stomach plummeted, dread flooding him – but Katsuki continued, voice passionate and sure, “Because I was an idiot back then. I didn’t see what was right in front of me. But even if I’d gotten what I *thought* I wanted, it wouldn’t have lasted. I would’ve realized the truth sooner or later.”
“T-truth?” Shoto stammered.
Katsuki’s grip on Shoto’s shoulders tightened, grounding him. “That it’s *you*, Shoto. It’s always been you, even if I was too blind to realize it at first.”
Shoto’s lips parted in a soft gasp. He wanted so badly to believe that, to let those words mend all the cracks in his heart.
Katsuki took Shoto’s face between his hands gently, rain-chilled palms against flushed skin. “Look at me,” he pleaded.
Shoto hadn’t even noticed he’d dropped his gaze again; now he looked up into Katsuki’s eyes, finding them wet and earnest.
“I thought I loved Deku,” Katsuki said, deliberate and clear. “Maybe I did, in my own stupid way. But what I feel for you… it’s bigger. It’s *real* in a way I never knew I needed. You…” His thumbs stroked tenderly along Shoto’s cheeks, wiping tears. “You accept every part of me – the good, the bad, the *worst*. You call me on my crap but you also believe in me. You make me want to be a better man, for you and with you.” Katsuki’s eyes blazed through the tears gathering in them.
“I love you,” he whispered, voice fierce. “I love you so damn much it scares me sometimes. And it has nothing to do with him. It’s all you. It’s always been you.”
A broken sound escaped Shoto – half sob, half laugh of relief. The next thing he knew, he was in Katsuki’s arms, clutching the back of his soaked jacket with trembling hands. Katsuki hugged him tightly, almost lifting Shoto onto his toes with the force of it.
“I love you too,” Shoto choked out against Katsuki’s shoulder. He was crying again, but he didn’t care. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I doubted—”
“Shh.” Katsuki buried his face in Shoto’s two-toned hair. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who made you doubt. I should’ve shut Deku down long before it got to this. I won’t let anything like that happen again.”
They clung to each other as the rain drummed on the windows. Shoto could feel the rapid thud of Katsuki’s heart against his own chest. He breathed in Katsuki’s scent – caramel and a hint of smoke beneath the rain – and let it calm the last of his frayed nerves.
After a long moment, Katsuki pulled back just enough to see Shoto’s face. He brushed damp bangs away from Shoto’s eyes, then pressed a firm, lingering kiss to Shoto’s forehead. “We’re okay,” he murmured, more a question than a statement, his breath warm against Shoto’s skin.
Shoto nodded, lifting his chin to meet Katsuki’s gaze head-on. The love shining there left him momentarily breathless. “We’re okay,” he confirmed softly. *Better than okay*, he thought.
Katsuki exhaled slowly, relief evident in the way his shoulders sagged. He guided Shoto over to the couch and they sank down together. Katsuki immediately drew Shoto into his side, an arm around his waist. Shoto nestled against him, fitting into that familiar spot against Katsuki’s chest.
For a while, they sat quietly. Shoto’s head rested on Katsuki’s shoulder, and Katsuki’s cheek leaned against Shoto’s hair. The storm outside raged on, but inside their little living room, a sense of peace – fragile but growing stronger by the second – settled around them.
“I’m sorry about Izuku,” Katsuki said eventually, breaking the silence. His tone was frustrated, but not at Shoto – at himself. “I should’ve realized what he was doing. I just… I didn’t want to think he’d do something like that. Not to us.”
Shoto sighed, turning to loop his arms around Katsuki’s middle. “He was hurting,” Shoto replied quietly. He could acknowledge that now, the initial sting of betrayal tempered by Katsuki’s reassurance. “It doesn’t make it right, but… I understand it, a little. He didn’t know what he wanted until it was too late.”
Katsuki frowned, affectionately rubbing Shoto’s arm. “You’re too nice, feeling sorry for him after all this.”
Shoto gave a small shrug. “I know what it’s like to feel you missed a chance.”
Katsuki was silent for a beat, then he let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Guess we both do.” He tilted Shoto’s face up gently. “But we didn’t miss ours. We won’t.”
Shoto leaned into Katsuki’s hand, the last of the tension draining from his body. “No, we won’t.”
Katsuki bent down and captured Shoto’s lips in a slow, tender kiss. Shoto sighed into it, his hands finding purchase on Katsuki’s shirt. The kiss was different from their desperate one earlier in the doorway – this one was steady, reassuring… healing. Katsuki poured all his love and apology into it, and Shoto returned all his forgiveness and devotion.
When they finally parted, Shoto’s cheeks were flushed and Katsuki’s eyes had regained their usual confident spark. “Tomorrow,” Katsuki said softly, “I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he understands that I’m off the market for good.” He smirked, adding, “Not that it wasn’t already obvious.”
Shoto managed a tiny laugh. “Alright. Just… be kind, if you can.”
“Tch. I won’t kill him,” Katsuki promised, rolling his eyes. “But he’s gonna get an earful for making *you* cry.”
Shoto squeezed Katsuki’s hand. “I’ll be okay. And… I think he will be too, eventually. He values you, even if it’s not the way he hoped.”
Katsuki didn’t look entirely convinced, but he let it drop. His focus was wholly on Shoto now anyway. He shifted slightly, reaching into his pocket. “Here,” he said, pulling out a familiar item – Shoto’s keys. “You forgot these at the office.”
Shoto blinked, realizing in his distress he must have left without them. “Oh… thank you.” He took the keys, but Katsuki didn’t let go right away.
Instead, Katsuki inhaled, as if steeling himself, then spoke in a rush: “Actually, keep ’em. I mean, keep *all* your stuff here. Or I’ll keep mine at your place. Let’s just—” He huffed, frustrated by his own lack of eloquence. “Move in with me, Shoto.”
Shoto’s eyes widened. Katsuki had *said* they’d look for a place soon, but hearing the outright invitation now made his heart skip. “Katsuki…”
“I’m serious,” Katsuki pressed, crimson eyes intense. “Why wait? I want to come home to you every day. I want you there when I go to sleep and when I wake up. We were already going to – let’s do it. Now.”
A slow smile dawned on Shoto’s face, genuine and bright. Happiness, warm and golden, unfurled in his chest, pushing aside the remnants of hurt. “Then let’s do it.”
Katsuki looked momentarily startled, as if he hadn’t expected Shoto to agree so easily. “Yeah?” he asked, almost cautiously.
Shoto nodded, lifting one hand to run his fingers through Katsuki’s damp hair. “Yes. Let’s move in together.”
Katsuki’s answering grin was like the sun breaking through clouds. He tugged Shoto fully into his lap, wrapping both arms around him in a tight hug. Shoto laughed softly as he settled straddling Katsuki’s thighs, arms draped over Katsuki’s broad shoulders.
“Tomorrow we can start planning,” Shoto murmured, leaning their foreheads together. “Or even tonight—”
“Nah,” Katsuki interrupted gently. “Tonight, I just want to hold you.”
So that’s what they did. They curled up on the couch, tangled in each other. The TV still played softly in the background – some late-night program neither of them was actually watching. The rain outside faded to a light drizzle.
Shoto’s head rested against Katsuki’s chest, listening to the steady heartbeat beneath. Katsuki’s fingers carded slowly through Shoto’s hair, a soothing repetitive motion.
“Shoto,” Katsuki said quietly after a long stretch of comfortable silence.
“Mm?” Shoto tilted his face up.
“You’re it for me,” Katsuki whispered, earnest and a little gruff. “You know that, right? I choose you. Every time, I choose you.”
Shoto’s breath caught. He reached up to cup Katsuki’s cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of a beloved cheekbone. “I know,” he whispered. In truth, hearing it stated so plainly sent a thrill of joy through him. “And I choose you, Katsuki. Always.”
Katsuki turned his head to press a kiss into Shoto’s palm, then nudged upward to capture Shoto’s lips once more. The kiss was soft and lingering, filled with the promise of all their tomorrows.
When they parted, Shoto felt light – like a heavy weight had finally lifted off him. The doubts and fears that had haunted him were gone, washed away by Katsuki’s unwavering devotion.
He tucked his head back under Katsuki’s chin, and Katsuki pulled a throw blanket down over them. They stayed that way, wrapped in each other and the gentle quiet of the night.
By the time the rain stopped and the clouds began to clear, both of them were drifting toward sleep, warm and secure in their embrace. Just before Shoto slipped under, he felt Katsuki press one more kiss to the crown of his head and murmur, “Love you.”
A soft smile graced Shoto’s lips as he tightened his arms around the love of his life. “Love you too, Katsuki,” he whispered.
Together, they let the peaceful darkness take them, hearts entwined and at ease. Whatever storms might come, they would face them hand in hand. Because Katsuki had chosen Shoto, and Shoto had chosen Katsuki – and that made all the difference in the world.