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Shouto’s holding the sides of the doorway, and leans in. His head’s looking down at Katsuki. A faint glow from the electric fireplace washes the slightest orange over his cheeks and streaks smooth light over his lips.
‘What are you doing here?’ Katsuki asks. He doesn’t have the time for this. He was seconds away from sleeping when Shouto knocked too.
‘I want to talk to you,’ Shouto says, he steps in, Katsuki pushes him out. ‘Sorry,’ he says, not looking sorry at all, ‘I was thinking I should talk to you.’
‘…Be fast, fuckass.’
‘I think…’ he hesitates, wetting his lips with his tongue, scattering that warm orange light. ‘I think I like you, Bakugou.’
His face doesn’t give him away, but his hands do: they’re tight fists by his side, and his shoulders forcibly relax. Bracing for a shout, the one Katsuki will offer him any moment now. Yet it doesn’t come, replaced by a whispery, ‘Like… you like-like me?’
His head’s totally spinning right now. ‘I think I do,’ Shouto says. But he corrects himself after seeing Katsuki’s face fall at his uncertainty. ‘Yes. I do.’
The world cuts to the sound of the simulated flickering of a fireplace and a loud heartbeat.
Somebody likes Katsuki. That’s all he can think about. The fact somebody actually said they like him. From day one, Katsuki’s love life wasn’t a love life at all: just moments and jokes from middle school, even though he’s now in year two of U.A he remembers it clearly: how his friends would say some pretty girl liked him as a joke, and then they would howl madly with laughter. They all knew that nobody really like-liked Katsuki. And much less Shouto Todoroki, Katsuki’s not-so-enemy.
‘No you don’t,’ Katsuki says, and he shuts the door. Or tries. Shouto holds it open, and gets his face caught in it, Katsuki squeezes it on him but watching Shouto’s annoying face get squished by a door doesn’t make Katsuki happy, so he stops. ‘Go.’
‘Bakugou,’ Shouto’s feeling a hand through his face, and he’s managed to step inside in a short moment. He’s standing upright. The orange light shining on him and reflecting on his nose. Katsuki doesn’t know when he stepped back, except he did and now Shouto’s hesitating. ‘Do you not believe me?’
‘I’m trying to sleep,’ Katsuki says. ‘It’s nine.’
‘I do like you,’ Shouto tells him.
‘You should sleep.’
‘I was trying.’
‘Try harder.’ Katsuki knows he’s being mean, but Shouto doesn’t even look like he understands that. He seems alright. Calm even. Except he’s still touching his face like Katsuki kicked it with all his might instead of pushing it in a door a little. ‘What you think of me is not my business.’
‘It’s mostly my fault.’ Shouto admits. He walks around Katsuki, and sits on the bed. He relaxes, hands on the scattered quilt but his eyes are on Katsuki. Like he’s daring him to kick him out. Katsuki should, really, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sits by him, and offers a cup of half-drank water by reaching over to the nightstand. Shouto stares at it, and takes a sip.
‘It’s my fault actually, because of my taste in boys,’ Shouto says, ‘Uraraka said I have bad taste.’
Katsuki tries not to look offended, it’s easy, because he’s so appalled as Shouto goes on about how much he’s crushing on Katsuki… to Katsuki.
What type of idiot shares their crush struggles… to their own crush? He’s sharing his dilemmas bit by bit, every single one of his panicky moments and insignificant times he’s talked to Katsuki, like it’s been killing him and now it finally has a place to go. And worst of all? Katsuki gets sucked in. And Shouto’s making him out to sound princely and likeable, which Katsuki himself never would have thought possible.
Shouto starts a new story. He’s told around five so far, and it’s a bit after ten now, according to Katsuki’s nightstand clock. ‘When I asked you for a pencil this morning…’
Katsuki feels the need to explain before he continues, ‘I told you to fuck off cause you never return them.’
‘I know,’ Shouto says, then he gets quiet, ‘I didn’t need the pencil. Just wanted to talk to you.’
That shouldn’t make Katsuki feel this happy, and he knows there’s a weird, wavy smile coming across his face. It’s ugly and constipated-looking and he doesn’t even have to look at the mirror to know. But Shouto smiles back, his hair streaked with a digital firelight. His eyes hold beads of light, and he looks so impressively happy, though the smile isn’t much, it’s such a feat of emotion from Shouto, Katsuki half-expects to wake up from all of this.
He doesn’t.
‘I promise I like you,’ Shouto’s eyes look to the fireplace, ‘like-like you.’
‘Fine then. You can like me.’
‘Thank you. That’s all I ask,’ He gets up, and moves to leave. He’s barely walked three steps before Katsuki decides he wants him to stay. But stay and do what? Share the bed? Make him continue telling him how much he loves and adores Katsuki? Izuku’s been doing that for years. He doesn’t need another fanboy. But Shouto’s at the door when Katsuki remembers what he should say.
‘Good night,’ Katsuki says. He hates how shy it sounds.
Shouto looks over his shoulder, as graceful as a character in an oil painting, with rich firelight touching him even from around the corner, he smiles. ‘Good night.’ He opens the door, and closes it gently behind him when he leaves.
Katsuki gets back to sleeping. Pulling the sheets over his body, as that ugly smile returns. He’s still smiling when he dozes off.