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By the tail end of third year Katsuki has avoiding his problems down to a fine art. Personally, he considers this an overall improvement. Was less than two years ago that he’d have thought the only way to solve his problems was by blowing them up.
In hindsight he can sort-of-maybe-a-little acknowledge the shortsightedness of that approach. After all, he’d tried to blow fucking Deku up more times than he had the fingers to count and yet the fucker always seemed to bounce back stronger than ever.
He’s a fucking improved person. Maybe not the shining beacon of morality like goddamn Deku and All Might strive to be, but he hasn’t tried to murder his classmates in at least six months. Well, he hasn’t tried any more than half-heartedly. What’s a little bit of bloodshed between friends, anyway?
He’s a work in progress, fucking sue him.
These days Katsuki’s two-step plan to avoiding his problems looks like this:
Step one: if a problem arises, the first course of action is explosions. (What? He’s an improved person not a new one, sometimes the best approach in life is the classic one.)
Step two: if step one fails, pretend like it worked. The problem is now dead to him, refuse to acknowledge its continued existence until it has the gall to try and blow up in his face.
In general, it’s a strategy that’s been working wonders for him. He’d had high hopes that it would carry him through to graduation where he’d be able to spit on the grave of his highschool life and be out the door before anybody could so much as realize he didn’t intend to sign their fucking yearbook.
He’d felt good about it. Daringly optimistic. He’d had dreams at night of living a peaceful life full of nothing but fire and explosions and screaming. Sometimes, it’s the simple things that get you through life at UA.
Three weeks out from graduation, his strategy begins to fail and he sees his dreams crashing around his feet. It starts small, in the way that an avalanche might seem like a snowball before it turns into your worst nightmare.
Todoroki catches him one day in between classes, and although he’s not dumb enough to try and touch Katsuki, the way he settles against the wall beside the door is far from subtle. Nobody else notices, because everybody else is already halfway down the corridor. It’s not like either of them are the sort to have classmates waiting eagerly on them.
“What?” Katsuki snaps, grip tightening over the strap of his bag like he’s planning on using it as a weapon.
If Todoroki feels threatened in the slightest it doesn’t show. He raises a brow and calmly puts his hands in his pockets like he’s got nowhere else to be, which Katsuki knows is a blatant lie because Midnight will skin them both alive if they’re late.
“Are you in a hurry?” Todoroki asks in what very well might be a drawl. He looks amused, or at least Katsuki thinks he does, because Todoroki is about as expressionless as you average rock and Katsuki does his level best not to spend too much of his time staring at his face because it’s bad for his heart.
“We’re in class, dipshit,” Katsuki says. “What do you fucking think?”
“It’s cute how much you care about your grades,” Todoroki says, making him bristle. “Would never have thought it just by looking at you.”
“Some of us don’t plan to make it in life by riding on our parent’s coattails,” Katsuki says, but it’s untrue, and, even worse, both of them know Katsuki doesn’t actually mean it. Todoroki doesn’t so much as bat an eye.
“We should talk,” Todoroki says.
Katsuki stiffens. “I don’t have jack shit to say to you,” he lies with far more venom than is probably necessary.
Todoroki snorts and the look he gives Katsuki is dry enough to put a desert to shame. Katsuki feels judged and he feels exposed, and he doesn’t like either of those feelings. He likes even less the idea of what might possibly come out of Todoroki’s mouth next.
Once, when this whole mess started, he’d tried to blow Todoroki up. It hadn’t worked.
With that in mind, he enacts step two.
“Get out of the fucking way,” he says, shouldering past hard enough to nearly knock Todoroki off his feet. He’s out the door and down the hallway before Todoroki can get another word out. Katsuki refuses to think of it as fleeing, because that’s beneath him. If anything, it’s a tactical retreat. Even a hero has to know when the cards aren’t in their favour.
He doesn’t turn around and look, but he feels Todoroki’s eyes on him up until he turns the corner.
.
If Katsuki had thought that would be the end of things, he’s sorely mistaken.
Todoroki waits two days, long enough that Katsuki makes the mistake of lowering his guard. It’s not a mistake he’s going to repeat, that’s for sure.
This time, they’re not alone. It’s a Sunday, and the lot of them are camped out in the rec area of the dorms. It’s movie night or something, which explains why all of class A is there, and Katsuki wishes it didn’t explain his presence too.
For the first year-and-a-half he’d fought this stupid thing with all of his might. By the start of third year though, the impossible had happened; they’d broken his damn spirit. Even Katsuki can only get so much pleasure from spite, and after being asked week after week, month after month, year after fucking year - it had just seemed easier to give in.
At the very least, he gets his own couch. He takes his wins where he can these days.
Well, he usually gets his own couch. Not tonight apparently, because he’s barely finished stuffing six pillows under his ass when he feels something settling down beside him. Even before he looks up there’s a sinking feeling in his gut.
“Hello,” Todoroki says mildly, looking completely unperturbed in the face of Katsuki’s growing horror and apparent fury.
“What,” Katsuki says, eloquent in his rage, “the fuck?”
“All the other spots are taken.”
Katsuki stares at Todoroki and then looks around the room, at the empty chair beside Mina, the sprawl of space besides Deku who would no doubt love to have Todoroki sit with him. He looks back at Todoroki wordlessly, and Todoroki has the goddamn nerve to smile at him.
“Get your own damn couch, you fucking asshole, this one’s mine.”
“I don’t see your name on it,” Todoroki says, which Katsuki hasn’t heard since his days on the playground. Before Katsuki can say anything though, Todoroki adds swiftly, “Looks like they’ve picked a movie, better be quiet. You know the rules; whenever somebody causes a scene, they lose their turn to pick.”
Katsuki clamps his mouth shut instantly, which just pisses him off even more. He hasn't picked a movie for three months now though, and if he has to watch another one of Aoyama’s shitty foreign films he’s going to destroy this whole damn building, and he doesn’t care who he takes down with it.
(at the very least Mineta got himself permanently banned after only one movie. Katsuki hadn’t been a participant of these nights back then, but you don’t need a vivid imagination to guess what happened there. Frankly, he’s hanging out for the day Mineta is banned from group bonding in general. He has money riding on Mina throwing him out a window before graduation.)
“Everybody good?” Yaoyorozu calls out, getting to her feet and brushing off her dress, beaming at the group while the DVD player begins to whirl. “Anybody need popcorn? A pillow?”
“Momo, it’s nice that you want us to be comfortable, but we all live here too, you know? You don’t have to play hostess,” Jirou says. “We’re all good, come sit down.”
“Hold on,” Katsuki bursts out, “I’m not -.”
Yaoyorozu flicks the lights off as she passes by them and Jirou says, “Shut up, Bakugou. You know the rules; lights are off, mouths are shut.”
Beside him, Todoroki snorts, pressing a smile into his wrist. Katsuki clenches his fist tight, feels explosions building and fizzling against his palms, and reminds himself that he’s literal weeks away from freedom, and he can hold out, he can absolutely hold out.
The movie starts. It’s some boring classic that Katsuki thinks he’s seen playing on daytime TV at least a hundred times over the course of his life. He can’t fathom why everybody else in the room looks so invested, but he bites his tongue and settles as close to the arm of the couch as he can.
He can see the tiny strip of no-man's land between Todoroki and himself from the corner of his eye. It seems insignificant, and Katsuki can’t help but fixate on how very easy it’d be to close it. It’s an awful thing to consider, and he has to tear his gaze away, settling on the weeping widow on the screen as he grinds his knuckles against his chin.
The movie is as boring as the last time Katsuki remembers seeing it, but with nothing else to distract him he winds up getting sucked in anyway. He’s so reluctantly invested in the widow’s dramatic reunion with her not-so-dead husband that he almost misses the feeling of something brushing against his knee the first time.
The second time though, he glances down in time to see Todoroki’s knee bump against his own.
Katsuki has never been electrocuted before, but he imagines it’d feel a lot like this; the sharp, aching jolt of awareness, the heartbeat of a moment where his lungs are too shocked to breathe.
It’s just a touch. Logically, Katsuki knows it feels like nothing, that it means nothing. His body doesn’t get the memo.
Todoroki isn’t even looking at him, he’s watching the movie play out with an expression that could either be rapturous interest or complete boredom, Katsuki sure as shit can’t tell. The screen is painting blue shadows on his face beneath the red of his hair, and Katsuki experiences an extremely disorientating moment where he’s not entirely certain whether Todoroki has frozen over while he wasn’t paying attention.
“What are you doing?” He hisses.
Todoroki’s mouth twitches but he doesn’t so much as look over. “Watching the movie, clearly.”
“Don’t be a fucking dick, you know exactly -.”
“Bakugou!” Mina shouts. “Shh!”
Katsuki falls into seething silence, but wrenches his leg away, crowding up against his side of the sofa and out of range of Todoroki’s wandering limbs. It’s uncomfortable, but Katsuki’s heart is beating easier, so it’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.
He tries to watch the movie again, but he feels like he’s on red alert, can’t possibly bring himself to relax enough for it.
It’s just as well too, because this time when the attack comes it’s from behind, fingers grazing along his far shoulder, warm enough that he feels the burn of them through his shirt. He goes to lean back, but Todoroki’s arm is behind him and he leans right into it.
And then there’s a touch on his knee again, a tactical ambush, and when he looks over Todoroki is right up in his space, thigh pressing tight along Katsuki’s in such a flawless move that it wouldn’t look out of place on a battlefield if the goal was to seduce the enemy instead of kill them.
Katsuki feels like he might fall victim to both of those things right this very minute if he doesn’t get some space back. There’s nowhere to move though, not unless he actually gets up, and he’s suddenly so dizzy he’s not entirely certain he remembers how his feet work.
“I hope you don’t think you’re being smooth, you fucking asshole,” Katsuki says, taking care to barely move his lips.
“You were the one who didn’t want to talk,” Todoroki counters without missing a beat. The hand on Katsuki’s shoulder slides up, fingers brushing against his bare skin and the heat of it is so familiar and enticing that it takes everything he has not to lean into it. Todoroki’s hand skates up further, tilting Katsuki’s head to the side so it can smooth along his jaw.
Shit, Katsuki thinks. Fucking shit.
Nobody has noticed, and Katsuki doesn’t understand how. Surely they know that his whole world is rocking on unstable foundations? Todoroki is putting off enough heat to fry a small town and Katsuki thinks he’s one more touch off self-destructing.
Todoroki pulls him and, against his better judgement, Katsuki allows it. He tips near enough that when Todoroki turns his lips brush against his ear.
Oh hell. Fucking christ, oh shit, goddamn, fuck it all, fuck everything, jesus shit fucking fuck.
“Are you,” Todoroki says, lips moving against Katsuki’s skin, “ready to talk about it now?”
Katsuki freezes. That’s just like Todoroki, honestly; overbearing heat on his skin one moment, and the frigid shock of ice the next.
There’s an explosion on screen (normally Katsuki’s favourite thing, and there’s a part of him that’s sad to have missed it) and it’s enough to galvanize Katsuki’s heart back into beating. He’s on his feet in a split second, and he catches sight of the surprised look on Todoroki’s face but he doesn’t get a chance to linger and enjoy it because he bolts from the room without pause.
He can hear the startled and offended shouts in his wake, and he’s distantly furious at the fact that Todoroki has probably just cost him his next movie pick, but he wouldn’t stay in that room right now if somebody paid him.
“What the hell was that about?” Kaminari asks.
“It’s nothing,” he catches Todoroki saying just before he’s out of earshot. “He’ll work it out on his own.”
.
The thing is, Katsuki isn’t a fucking idiot, okay? He didn’t get to be at the top of the class by luck alone.
This thing between him and Todoroki, he’s been aware of it since the start, whenever the fuck that was. Felt like eons ago now, but he guessed that was just how time felt when you lived through more in three years than most highschool students did in their whole life.
They’re the same, deep down. A whole lot of anger and resentment that simmers and tips to a boil when least expected. Todoroki is better at hiding it, but they’ve all seen what he’s capable of in moments when the bad thoughts in his brain drown out the good.
Katsuki knows that over the years Todoroki has bought into Deku’s happily-ever-after club, might even believe he’s earned his place there, but they’re made from the same sort of stuff, and they recognize that in each other.
So sure, fuck, whatever. There’s a connection there. And only a blind man would ever accuse Todoroki of being hard to look at. Katsuki’s got fucking eyes, alright? He’s man enough to admit to getting a little lost in the endless expanse of his neck or the muscles in his shoulders.
But so fucking what? It doesn’t mean jack shit. None of that means he’s gotta do anything about it. It’s a bad idea. Usually, Katsuki likes bad ideas, considers them more a challenge than anything else. This one though? This one feels like it might be synonymous with mistake, and Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t fucking make mistakes.
It’d be nice if Todoroki was on the same damn page though, but it’s beginning to feel like they’re not even reading the same fucking book on the subject. There’s only one way Katsuki can think of to address that though, and it involves beating Todoroki at his own damn game.
If there’s one thing Katsuki’s good at the very least, it’s doing the opposite of what’s expected of him.
.
Katsuki doesn’t give Todoroki the chance to get the jump on him again. He spends the week after the Movie Night Incident keeping his space, and if their classmates notice the increase in prickly distance between Katsuki and the world at large they have enough tact not to mention it.
He knows Todoroki is watching him still, but he doesn’t approach, which is just as well, because it means when Katsuki storms into his room nine days after vanishing off the grid, he gets to appreciate the truly floored look on his face.
It’s nice. He’s going to memorize that expression to replay whenever he’s feeling down. Todoroki Shouto looks fucking stupid when he has his own plans turned upside down on him.
“So here’s the thing, asshole,” Katsuki says, slamming the door behind hard enough that the walls shake. “I know exactly what you’re fucking playing at, and you need to cut that shit out right now before I fucking make you, okay?”
Todoroki stares at him, one hand still poised with a pen over his homework. He recovers admirably though, calmly setting it aside and closing his book like this had been part of his evening plans all along. “You’re going to need to clarify,” he says. “I don’t think I know what you mean.”
The surge of irritation that hits him then is so powerful that there’s a small family of explosions in his palms before he can tame them. “My bad,” he says, “I didn’t realize you were fucking dumb as well as stupid.”
“Both of those words mean the same thing. Did you rehearse this before you came storming in here? Because if this is the best you can do, I’m disappointed.”
This time Katsuki doesn’t even make an attempt to stop the explosions that light up Todoroki’s room. He stomps his way across the room, snaring Todoroki’s shirt and hauling him up from his chair. Todoroki’s fingers come up to circle Katsuki’s wrist, but he doesn't even blink, seems nothing more than mildly inconvenienced by the whole thing.
The fabric Katsuki’s touching starts smoking beneath his touch.
“Let me be perfectly clear,” Katsuki snarls. “Cut. It. Out. This isn’t a fucking game, and some things shouldn’t be played with.”
“I never thought I’d hear that from you of all people,” Todoroki says. The grip he has on Katsuki’s wrist twists slightly, but it’s a distant sort of pain. “But I’m not playing.”
That’s not what Katsuki wants to hear, and it’s the start of a conversation he wants to have even less. “Whatever, I don’t fucking care - just let it go, okay?”
He goes to step back, but Todoroki doesn’t let him, uses his grip on Katsuki to haul him in closer. “I told you, I’m not playing. You’re really making this way more complicated than it has to be.”
Katsuki can’t help but stare at him incredulously. “You really think this is ever going to be simple? Us?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Todoroki says and Katsuki doesn’t even realize Todoroki’s dropped his wrist until he feels hands on his face, one like a fire-pit and the other a glacier.
Up close, the mismatch of Todoroki’s eyes is disgustingly hypnotizing. A more eloquent man might call it ethereal.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Todoroki says like a warning. “You’ve got approximately three seconds to decide whether you’re going to keep being weird about this or whether you’re tired of being difficult.”
Katsuki experiences a moment of completely out of character horror, because three seconds is far too short a time to expect him to make a decision like that. It’s difficult to be objective when Todoroki’s face is this close to his, and the dangerous part of his brain that lead him to fall in love with explosions in the first place is positively singing right now.
Katsuki’s hands are frozen by his sides, and there’s enough sweat trickling down his spine that he could blow this whole room to kingdom come without a second though. He thinks he can feel the beginnings of a frost beneath Todoroki’s fingertips.
He doesn’t move.
He’d thought of this roughly a million times before. Abstractly, specifically, and whatever was in between. The reality is a thousand times better and a thousand times worse. Todoroki’s mouth tastes like the soy sauce they had with dinner, but his lips are smooth, and they guide Katsuki’s mouth open with such ease that Katsuki cannot help but think he has to have done this before.
That seems stupidly unfair, and also highly unlikely, because this is an awkward dance they’ve been doing for almost as long as they’ve known each other, and Katsuki cannot picture Todoroki as the kind of guy to do this with just anybody.
Pay attention, Katsuki thinks, semi-hysterical. You’re not going to get a chance to do this again.
It’s not romantic, Katsuki refuses to consider it romantic, and when Todoroki goes to pull back he’s overcome with a moment of sheer panic, because once this stops they’re going to have to face the fact that it happened.
Katsuki isn’t so good with consequences, and this seems like the kind of thing that they should talk about and Katsuki would sooner die than discuss what kissing Todoroki Shouto did to him.
His hands came up lightning quick, hauling Todoroki in before there’s so much as an inch between their lips. Todoroki lets out a startled noise and has to throw out a hand to the wall to keep balance. Their mouths mash together hard enough to hurt, and Katsuki’s eyes water as Todoroki gives a pained hiss.
“What was that for?”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Katsuki chants, and he tilts his head, trying in a rush to figure out how the fuck he’s meant to do this. Kissing shouldn’t be hard, all those stupid fucking movies Yaoyorozu picked made it seem so fucking easy, and oh great, now he’s thinking of Yaoyorozu when he’s kissing Todoroki Shouto of all people, and he’s too gay for that shit and -
Todoroki takes pity on him, a hand curving under Katsuki’s jaw, angling them just right and slotting their mouths together perfectly, cutting off the rambling monologue drowning out all other thoughts in Katsuki’s brain.
Todoroki is really, really, really good at this. To be fair though, Katsuki doesn’t have much to compare it to. Maybe Todoroki actually kisses like a fucking slobbering dog, and Katsuki just doesn’t know enough to tell the difference.
“Stop smiling,” Todoroki mumbles against his mouth, sounding frustrated. His thumb grazes the point just below Katsuki’s chin that makes him shiver. “It’s hard to kiss you when you do that. What’s so funny?”
“Doesn’t matter, not important,” Katsuki says, because he doesn’t think he’ll ever live it down if he tells Todoroki the truth. He drags him back in, and this time he doesn’t completely botch it, and the thrill he gets as Todoroki follows his lead for once is going to be something he thinks about every night for the rest of his life.
Todoroki steps in closer and Katsuki drops a hand so he can slide it up and underneath Todoroki’s shirt, suddenly conscious of the endless wealth of untouched skin he has open to explore before him. Todoroki makes a hungry noise against his mouth which Katsuki slots away for later analysis.
Todoroki’s backing him up and Katsuki has no choice but to walk awkwardly backwards or send the both of them to the ground. His back hit the wall hard enough to hurt, but that seems fairly unimportant when compared to the way Todoroki’s fingers are tucking themselves into the waistband of his jeans.
Oh shit, Katsuki thinks, and he doesn’t like the fact that Todoroki has the upper hand here, is reducing him to distraction so effortlessly. Things are spiraling out of control, and Katsuki thinks he could probably be stuck here all night, unable to pull away long enough to get his brain back online and remember why this wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place.
He doesn’t need to remember, however, because a second later the real world reminds him, does what it does best, bursting in where it’s unwelcome and leaving a mess in its wake.
The door bangs open, and a voice that Katsuki knows he recognizes but no longer has the brain power to place says, “Sorry, Todoroki, I just thought of - oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see anything, I didn’t see anything!”
It’s like somebody has poured cold water down his spine, and Katsuki is pulling away even before his brain can catch up with what’s happening. With the sudden distance, he can see the flush in Todoroki’s cheeks, the red of his lips, the sharp, focused glint of his eyes.
Shit, Katsuki thinks, ever articulate.
Todoroki looks like he’s about to say something, and Katsuki can absolutely not stand here and hear it. He turns, disappears out the room without a backwards glance and Todoroki doesn’t stop him.
Deku is standing just outside the door, wringing his hands and looking vaguely traumatized. “Kacchan,” he say, “I just -.”
“Deku, shut up,” Katsuki snarls, slamming his palm into the wall above him. He doesn’t hold back, lets lose an explosion harsh enough that he can actually see it singe the tip of Deku’s hair.
Deku barely flinches. He’s grown so fucking much from the miserable runt that Katsuki remembers from their childhood that it’s infuriating. His eyes are big and green and very earnest, and he says, “If you need to talk -.”
Katsuki has never needed anything less in all of his life. He turns on his heel and goes, and the explosion he lets off in his wake is big enough to turn half a wall to rubble.
.
They’ve got a week left now before they’re out of UA and into the real world.
The excitement in the air is so thick that Katsuki is positively choking on it. People keep trying to talk to him, ask him what he’s planning, where’s he’s going, does he have a job yet? Which offer did he accept? Did he want to exchange emails? Phone numbers?
Even some of the assholes in class B have been approaching him, and Katsuki can only say “who are you again?” so many times a day before it starts to get old.
Todoroki does not approach him, which is probably the smartest thing he’s ever fucking done. Katsuki isn’t entirely sure what he’d do if he wound up cornered, but if the lumps of demolished wall still turning up in the dorms is any indication, it probably wouldn’t be pretty.
Two days from graduation, Deku of all fucking people tracks him down.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, what do you fucking want, Deku?” Katsuki asks, sounding far more aggrieved than furious.
“I know what you’re doing,” Deku says, and at Katsuki’s confused look clarifies, “after graduation. Our moms are still friends, you know. Your mother told mine.”
Of fucking course she did. Next time Katsuki goes home to visit he’s tearing the house to fucking shreds.
“So?” He sneers, tucking his hands in his pockets and doing his best not to be obvious about the way he glances past Deku to make sure nobody else (Todoroki) is in earshot.
“I think it’s stupid and you’re far smarter than that,” Deku says with such unexpected honesty that Katsuki is taken aback. He stares at him, and for the first time notices that Deku has grown when he wasn’t paying attention, is tall enough that they aren’t far off the same height.
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” he says.
“No,” Deku admits, “but I think sometimes you need to hear when you’re being an idiot.”
Katsuki bristles. “Look, if you’re here to -.”
“I won’t tell him,” Deku says.
“I didn’t -.”
“But, for what it’s worth, I think the both of you could be good for one another.”
“I’m not -.”
“So, happy graduation, Kacchan,” Deku says, and he smiles at him with white teeth and knowing eyes. “I hope the future works out for you.”
He turns and goes then, leaving Katsuki speechless in his wake.
(he does not second guess his plan, it’s far too late for that, but he will admit to thinking, just for a second, on what ifs)
.
Katsuki doesn’t go to graduation. He doesn't think it necessarily surprises anybody. There’s nothing in the UA rulebook that says one has to be present at the ceremony to receive their highschool diploma, and Katsuki is all about exploiting any and all loopholes.
Besides, Katsuki has had his exit plan in place for months now. It’d be a shame to put it in jeopardy just because Deku of all fucking people went and tried to stir up some doubts in the mess that was becoming his head.
He’s got an apartment in Tokyo and he’s signed up to start at a big name agency Monday. They’d been positively ecstatic to take him, and Katsuki had been ecstatic that they hadn’t asked for his diploma on the spot because Japanese post is good but it’s not that good.
Katsuki has three days by himself, no pressures, no deadlines, no worries. After the whirlwind of the last few years and the disaster of just the past few weeks he expects it to be indescribably liberating.
And it is. For a day-and-a-half.
By the end of the second fucking day, he begins experiencing moments of mourning so fucking bizarre and misplaced that he’s honestly concerned for his wellbeing. He can’t get the TV to turn on, and for a second he almost calls out for Kaminari to jolt it back online. He can hear whispering next door, that crazy old bitch who’d glared at him when she saw him moving in, and he wishes he had Jirou to tell him if she was planning on offing him next time he sets foot outside.
He even misses Deku for a second there, just because he’s in a bad mood and it’d be nice to have somebody to take it out on, which is how he knows things have gone too far.
(he does not think about Todoroki. That way leads to madness, and Katsuki already has a tenuous grip on sanity at the best of times.)
By the start of day three, Katsuki is willing to admit he may have miscalculated slightly. He’s spent the formative years of his life practically living in the pockets of class A; he really should have anticipated there might be something of an adjustment period, a learning curve, to being alone.
He’s been clinging to the idea of being on his own for so long he hadn’t stopped to consider if that’s what he even still fucking wants anymore. And it is. Of fucking course it is. Who the hell wants people getting in your face, making your business theirs? Nobody, that’s who.
But maybe total isolation had been a hasty extreme. He’s in too deep now though, and he can’t bear to contemplate the look on Deku’s face if Katsuki went crawling to him after only a few days on his own.
He thinks he’d sooner take his chances falling off the far side of a cliff.
By Sunday night he’s positively crawling out of his skin. He feels like he has places to be, although he does not, and he keeps thinking about how they’d only been halfway through those awful Indiana Jones films Kirishima wanted to watch, and how it would have been Jirou’s turn to pick a movie.
The TV still won’t fucking turn on though, although that has less to do with faulty electricity and a lot more to do with the fact Katsuki put the remote control through the screen.
His apartment is too small and too quiet, and when he curls up on the sofa he can’t help but flash back to Todoroki beside him, creeping into his space and being a general dick about things.
Katsuki isn’t miserable. He refuses to admit to being something so pathetic. But, he thinks as he grinds the heels of his palms against his weary eyes, he might but… discontent.
He’s so wrapped up in cloud of fury and irritation that he almost misses the sound of his doorbell ringing. The second time it rings, he thinks he’s hearing things, because the only person who knows where he lives is his mother, and she has far more important things to do than chase her wayward son to Tokyo.
It rings a third time, and if it’s the fucking old bitch who lives next door, Katsuki is going to strangle somebody.
“What?” He snarls, throwing the door open hard enough that it bounces off the wall. “It’s ten in the fucking evening, the fuck do you -.”
“Well,” Todoroki says calmly, looking as serene and peaceful as ever, “I see distance definitely hasn’t improved your attitude any.”
Katsuki stares at him, absolutely wordless.
Todoroki glances over his shoulder for a second and then back. “Can I come in, please? Your neighbour has been staring at me through her window since I got here, I think she thinks I’m your drug dealer or something.”
Katsuki fists his hands in Todoroki’s shirt and hauls him inside, slamming the door. “What the fuck are you doing here?” He hisses. “I could not have made it any fucking clearer I wanted to be left alone.”
“You’re the king of mixed messages, actually,” Todoroki says. “Midoriya said -.”
“Deku,” Katsuki repeats scornfully, fisting his hands. “Should have known he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Midoriya said,” Todoroki repeats, with forced patience, “that he couldn’t tell me where you went, because he promised you he’d keep it a secret.” He smiles at the bewildered expression on Katsuki’s face. “He did, however, heavily imply that his mother might know something and maybe I should speak to her.”
That was just fucking like Deku. Katsuki loved discovering loopholes, but surprisingly it was Deku that delighted in creating them at any opportunity.
Todoroki tucks his hands into his pockets and looks around. Katsuki lets him, he’s already here, and the tension of the last few days have left him surprisingly exhausted. Besides, if Todoroki’s distracted, it gives Katsuki a chance to look at him.
He looks exactly the same as the last time he saw him; which is to say ridiculously attractive and infuriating at once.
“So,” Todoroki says, startling Katsuki. “How is it?”
“How is what?”
Todoroki smiles thinly. “The fruition of all your hopes and dreams. Is it exactly as fulfilling as you thought it would be?”
Katsuki takes in a deep breath and lets it out as steadily as he knows how, which is not very steadily at all. “You think you know fucking everything, don’t you.”
“No,” Todoroki says placidly. “I think that you’re not as mysterious as you think you are, and I’ve been watching you long enough to figure out the way your mind works. You see, you’ve got this strategy, and it’s very easy to tell when you’re working through it.”
Katsuki can’t help but raise a brow at him. “Oh?”
“Mmh.” Todoroki steps in closer, and Katsuki is too tired to even pretend to be affronted when Todoroki sets a hand to his hip, thumb smoothing up over Katsuki’s hipbone. “Your first move is to destroy the problem. Whatever that problem is. Usually with your quirk, which is messy and inefficient.”
“Watch your fucking mouth, I can still kick you out.”
“Step two,” Todoroki continues, like he’d not spoken at all, “is to pretend there isn’t a problem. This is the most amusing step to watch, because you do a lot of running away.”
“I don’t run away -.”
“Step three,” Todoroki says, throwing Katsuki for a loop, because he no longer has any idea where Todoroki is getting his information, “is my favourite step though.”
“I don’t know what -.”
“Step three is when you actually stop being an idiot and think things through. To be fair, you so very rarely get to step three because it takes an unstoppable force to survive steps one and two.”
Katsuki can’t help but snort. “What the fuck does that make you?”
Todoroki’s smile this time is about as soft as their jagged edges are ever likely to get. “An immovable object, I guess. I’d have to be to put up with your issues.”
Katsuki shoves him in the shoulder, but Todoroki does nothing more than sway with the force, giving him an amused look as if to say see?
“This is a really bad fucking idea,” Katsuki tells him. “Chances are I’m going to blow you to pieces inside a week.”
“Not the ideal blowing I had in mind,” Todoroki says without missing a beat, but continues before Katsuki can even process that, “but you can certainly try. I don’t think your neighbour would approve if we totaled your apartment only days after you moved in.”
The smile he gives then might be called friendly only by somebody passingly familiar with the term. There’s teeth there, just the edge of it, and a darkness in the challenge of his words. Katsuki is reminded again why this whole thing even got this far, that for every push Katsuki gives, Todoroki is ready to meet him halfway.
“You’re not staying,” Katsuki tells him. “I like my fucking space.”
“You hate your fucking space,” Todoroki says without blinking. “It reminds you of how empty it is.”
There’s absolutely no way Todoroki can know that unless he’s developed a mind reading quirk while Katsuki was away, and he stares him down. “How the fuck -.”
“Do you think,” Todoroki says, “that you’re the only one who’s got some adjusting to do?”
There’s nothing to say to that, and Katsuki isn’t interested in discussing it even if there was. He gives in to the inevitable magnetism of an unstoppable force and immovable object, and pulls Todoroki in so he can drop his forehead down on his shoulder, taking care to make it more of a head-butt than anything else.
“I’m tired,” he mutters. “Fucking shit, I feel like I haven’t slept in days.”
“Whose fault is that?” Todoroki asks, but the hands on Katsuki’s waist are disgustingly gentle. “Come on, you can go to bed later. We’ve got places to be, and Jirou is going to be upset if you miss the start of the movie.”
For a second Katsuki is so tired he’s utterly convinced he hallucinated. “The fuck?”
Todoroki shrugs him off his shoulder and grins when he takes in Katsuki’s baffled look. “It’s cute how you thought everybody was just going to let you run away and lock yourself up in your apartment like a villain in the making,” he said. “Yaoyorozu and Jirou are hosting the movie night this time, but I’m pretty sure you’re apartment is up next, so you should be prepared.”
“You’re all fucking crazy,” Katsuki says. “We just graduated, I’ve had enough of all of you. Leave me alone.”
“Sure,” Todoroki says agreeably, but he’s already steering Katsuki to the door with a hand to the small of his back. “What are you going to do? Avoid us? Historically, how has that really worked out for you?”
Katsuki didn’t have anything to say to that either and when Todoroki smiles at him there’s a fondness growing ever familiar. “You’ve tried blowing us all up, and that didn’t work. You tried ignoring us, and that didn’t work. I guess there’s nothing left but to use your head, and I’ll save you the trouble of all the heavy thinking; we’re not going away, you’re not driving us off, and the sooner you acknowledge that you don’t want either of those things, the happier you’ll be.”
Katsuki has a horrible feeling that Todoroki isn’t just talking about their asshole classmates, but it’s been a tough few days and a long night and he’s had enough heavy conversations tonight as it is.
“Shut up and take me to this movie night,” Katsuki says.
“It’s a date,” Todoroki says smoothly.
And holy fucking shit, Katsuki realizes, it fucking is.