Archive of Our Own ^beta

The final bell rang, a shrill sound that signaled the end of the school day. Students pushed back their chairs, the faint scraping of metal legs on the floor blending into the chatter as they filed out of the classroom. Bakugo Katsuki slung his bag over his shoulder, already halfway out the door when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Katsuki," Aizawa's tone was low but firm, with just enough edge to make the explosive teenager freeze.

Bakugo sighed, his lips curling into a faint scowl as he turned on his heel. "What now?" he grumbled, his voice lined with impatience.

The pro hero-turned-teacher didn’t flinch at the tone. He rarely did. Instead, he met Bakugo’s glare with his usual unbothered expression, his tired eyes steady. "There’s an assignment you missed last week. You’re staying fifteen minutes after class to finish it."

Bakugo blinked, the irritation in his fiery red eyes flaring momentarily. "I didn’t miss anything," he retorted sharply, though the faint crease between his brows betrayed a flicker of doubt.

"You did," Aizawa replied simply, cutting off any further argument. He tapped a stack of papers on his desk, the top sheet highlighted in a glaring yellow. "Unless you’d prefer to take the zero, in which case, I’ll notify your parents."

The threat of his mom finding out sent a ripple of hesitation through Bakugo. His mother’s voice, already loud and biting in his memory, echoed in his mind. He gritted his teeth, his frustration palpable. "Fine," he spat, slumping back into his chair with a dramatic huff.

Satisfied, Aizawa gave a brief nod before returning to his desk. Bakugo pulled out his phone, shooting a quick text to his mom, who was waiting outside in the car.

“Gonna be another 15. Don’t yell.”

He tossed the phone onto the desk with a sigh, the screen still lit with his mom’s typing bubble appearing, vanishing, and then reappearing. He braced himself for her response.

While waiting, Bakugo stared blankly at the paper in front of him, already annoyed. He could hear the muffled sounds of students laughing and talking in the hallways, their voices growing fainter as the building emptied.

Aizawa, seated at his desk, barely spared him a glance, busying himself with paperwork. The silence that followed was almost suffocating, leaving Bakugo alone with his thoughts and the faint tap of Aizawa’s pen against the desk.

"Fifteen minutes," Bakugo muttered to himself, his voice barely audible. "Let’s just get this over with."

---

Mitsuki Bakugo drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, her lips pressing into a thin line as her eyes scanned the schoolyard. Students streamed out of the building, some rushing to meet their rides while others lingered in groups, chatting and laughing. But there was no sign of her son.

“Damn brat,” she muttered under her breath. “Always taking his sweet time.”

Her gaze landed on a familiar head of red-and-white hair weaving through the crowd. One of Katsuki’s classmates—Todoroki, if she remembered correctly. He wasn’t hard to miss. Rolling down her window, she waved him over.

“Hey, kid!” she called out, her sharp voice cutting through the bustle.

Todoroki paused mid-step, glancing her way. His expression was calm, though his brows furrowed slightly in confusion. After a moment’s hesitation, he approached.

“Yes?” he said, his voice polite but neutral.

“You’re in Katsuki’s class, right?” Mitsuki asked, leaning out of the window slightly. “Do you know where he is? He’s supposed to be out here by now, and I don’t have all day.”

Todoroki nodded. “I saw Aizawa-sensei ask him to stay back after class. He’s probably finishing something up.”

Mitsuki groaned, slumping back into her seat. “Figures. That damn kid never tells me anything.” She glanced back at Todoroki, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re…Todoroki, right?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Todoroki Shoto.”

“Right, right,” Mitsuki said, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re the quiet one. Not like the rest of those loudmouths in his class, huh?”

Todoroki shrugged. “I try to stay out of unnecessary conflict.”

“Smart,” Mitsuki said with a smirk. “You’ve got more sense than most of those idiots. Katsuki included.”

Just then, her phone buzzed. She picked it up, squinting at the screen. A message from Katsuki lit up:

“Gonna be another 15. Don’t yell.”

Mitsuki rolled her eyes, muttering a string of curses under her breath. “That little—ugh. Fifteen minutes, huh?” She shoved the phone into her pocket and turned back to Todoroki. “Well, looks like I’m stuck here. You in a hurry, or can you keep an old lady company?”

“You’re not old,” Todoroki said matter-of-factly. “But I’m not in a hurry.”

Mitsuki laughed, a sharp, barking sound. “Flattery’ll get you everywhere, kid. Alright, pull up a seat on the curb or something. Let’s chat.”

Todoroki set his bag down and sat on the edge of the sidewalk, his posture straight but relaxed. Mitsuki leaned her elbow on the car window, studying him with sharp eyes.

“So,” she began, “what’s your deal? You’re way too calm to be in the hero course. Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘silent but deadly’ types.”

Todoroki’s lips quirked up in the faintest smile. “I wouldn’t say that. I just try to focus on what’s important.”

“Focused, huh? Must be nice,” Mitsuki said, rolling her eyes. “Katsuki’s got all the focus of a squirrel on caffeine. How do you even deal with him in class?”

“He’s…intense,” Todoroki admitted, choosing his words carefully. “But he’s also hardworking. It’s clear he wants to be the best, even if his methods are a little…loud.”

Mitsuki barked another laugh. “A little loud? Kid, you’re too polite for your own good. Katsuki’s a walking explosion—literally and figuratively.”

“That’s true,” Todoroki agreed, his tone light. “But it’s not all bad. He pushes people to be better, even if they don’t realize it.”

Mitsuki raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “Huh. Never thought I’d hear someone defend him like that. Most people just complain about him being an ass.”

Todoroki shrugged. “He can be, but I think that’s just his way of showing he cares. In his own…unique way.”

“Unique is one word for it,” Mitsuki muttered. She leaned back, tapping her fingers on the doorframe. “So, what about you? Got any siblings? Or are you an only child?”

“I have siblings,” Todoroki said. “An older brother and sister. And…” He paused, his expression growing distant for a moment. “Another brother.”

Mitsuki tilted her head, sensing the shift in his tone. “Family drama, huh?”

Todoroki nodded slightly. “You could say that.”

“Join the club,” Mitsuki said with a smirk. “Katsuki’s a pain in my ass, but he’s my pain in the ass. Bet your family feels the same about you.”

“Maybe,” Todoroki said, his voice softer.

“You’re alright, Todoroki,” Mitsuki said, leaning her elbow on the car door as she gave him an appraising look. “You ever been told that? You’re not as stiff as you look.”

Todoroki blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Not often, no.”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Mitsuki said with a smirk. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Honestly, it’s a miracle you can deal with my brat of a son without losing your damn mind.”

Todoroki allowed a small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth. “Bakugo isn’t so bad. He’s…unique.”

“‘Unique.’ That’s a polite way of putting it,” Mitsuki said, laughing. “Anyway, you seem like a good kid, so let me ask you something.”

Todoroki tilted his head slightly. “What is it?”

“You ever come over for dinner?” Mitsuki asked casually, though there was a spark of genuine interest in her eyes. “We’re not fancy or anything, but I know how to whip up a damn good meal. And you look like you could use a break from whatever gourmet nonsense I bet you eat at home.”

Todoroki hesitated for a moment, clearly weighing his answer. “I haven’t, no.”

“well, then you should,” Mitsuki said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re in Katsuki’s class, so you’re practically family by association. Might as well come over and get a free meal out of it.”

“Are you sure?” Todoroki asked, his tone polite but uncertain. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Mitsuki waved a hand dismissively. “Intrude? Kid, if I didn’t want you there, I wouldn’t have asked. Besides, it’s nice having someone to talk to who doesn’t yell every five seconds. You’re like a breath of fresh air.”

Todoroki considered her words for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I’d like that. Thank you.”

“Good!” Mitsuki said, grinning. “How about this weekend? Saturday night, say, seven? That work for you?”

Todoroki nodded again. “Yes, that works. Should I bring anything?”

“Just yourself,” Mitsuki said. “Well, maybe a big appetite. I’ll make enough for an army—Katsuki eats like he’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach, so there’ll be plenty to go around.”

“I’ll be there,” Todoroki said, his tone warm but reserved.

Mitsuki gave him an approving nod. “Good. You better be ready, though. I don’t hold back in the kitchen. And don’t let Katsuki scare you off, either. If he says anything stupid, I’ll knock him upside the head.”

Todoroki’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “I think I’ll manage.”

“You better,” Mitsuki said with a laugh. “Alright, get going, kid. I’ll see you Saturday. And don’t flake on me, or I’ll come find you myself.”

Todoroki stood, picking up his bag and offering her a polite nod. “I won’t. Thank you for the invitation.”

---

Bakugo noticed his mother right away, but then his eyes flicked to the figure  next to her—Todoroki. His brows furrowed, and his pace quickened, suspicion clear on his face. By the time he reached the car, Todoroki was still standing by the driver’s side, chatting casually with Mitsuki.

“The hell’s going on here?” Bakugo demanded, his tone sharp as he came to a halt, glaring between the two of them. “Why the fuck are you talking to him, Mom?”

Mitsuki snorted, unimpressed by his outburst. “Relax, brat. We were just chatting.”

“Chatting about what?” Bakugo shot back, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at Todoroki, who looked completely unbothered.

“Nothing important,” Todoroki replied simply, glancing at Mitsuki with a small nod. “I should get going. It was nice talking to you, Mrs. Bakugo.”

“Yeah, yeah, get outta here,” Bakugo muttered, waving him off dismissively. “You’re weird as hell.”

“See you, Bakugo,” Todoroki said evenly before walking away without another word.

Bakugo turned back to his mom, suspicion still etched on his face. “Seriously, what the hell were you talking about? He’s not even that interesting!”

Mitsuki smirked, clearly enjoying his irritation. “Oh, nothing you’d care about. Kid’s polite, though. Maybe you could take some notes.”

Bakugo groaned, throwing his head back. “God, you’re impossible.” He opened the car door and tossed his bag onto the backseat. “Can we just go now?”

“Sure,” Mitsuki said, starting the engine, but as she pulled out of the parking lot, she added casually, “Oh, by the way, Todoroki’s coming over for dinner on Saturday.”

“What?!” Bakugo shouted, whipping his head around to stare at her. “Since when? Why the hell is he coming over?”

“Since I invited him,” Mitsuki said matter-of-factly, keeping her eyes on the road. “Figured it’d be nice to have someone over who’s not a pain in the ass for once.”

Bakugo sputtered, his frustration spilling out in a string of half-formed protests. “You invited Icy-Hot to our house? For dinner? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Calm down, brat,” Mitsuki said with a chuckle. “He’s a good kid. Unlike you, he knows how to have a decent conversation.”

Bakugo sank into his seat, grumbling under his breath. “This is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done. He better not touch my stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mitsuki said, rolling her eyes. “You’ll survive.”

Bakugo crossed his arms, glaring out the window as they drove off. “This is so stupid,” he muttered, but a part of him couldn’t help wondering what the hell Saturday night was going to look like.

--

The doorbell rang precisely ten minutes before seven, sharp and punctual as a stopwatch. Bakugo, slouched on the couch in his usual sweatpants and tank top, scowled at the sound. He knew exactly who it was. His mom had been harping about it all day—“Make sure you don’t scare the poor kid off!”—and she’d forced him to send Todoroki the address the day she invited him, just so there wouldn’t be any excuses.

“Get the door, Katsuki!” Mitsuki hollered from the kitchen, where the sound of pots clanging and something sizzling filled the air.

Grumbling under his breath, Bakugo trudged toward the door. He yanked it open, fully prepared to bark something sarcastic about how early Todoroki was, but the words died in his throat as soon as he saw him.

Todoroki stood on the porch, his posture straight as ever, but there was a faint hesitation in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was dressed in black dress pants, crisp and perfectly pressed, paired with a sleek black button-down shirt that fit him just right—not too loose, not too tight. The first two buttons of the shirt were undone, revealing a sliver of his pale collarbone, and his hair, always perfectly split down the middle, seemed softer somehow, like he’d taken extra care to tame it.

Bakugo stared, his hand still gripping the doorknob, his brain short-circuiting for a moment. He’d never seen Todoroki in anything other than their school uniform or his usual casual clothes—hoodies, sneakers, and the like. Seeing him like this, polished and put-together, was...unexpected.

And he looked nice.

The thought hit Bakugo like a sucker punch, and he blinked hard, snapping himself out of it just as his mom’s voice rang out behind him.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a damn idiot! Let him in!” Mitsuki shouted. Her head popped out from the kitchen doorway, her hair tied up in a messy bun and a dish towel slung over her shoulder. Her eyes lit up as she caught sight of Todoroki. “Oh, wow! You clean up nice, kid. Looking sharp!”

Todoroki’s ears turned faintly pink, though his expression remained as calm as ever. “Thank you, Mrs. Bakugo,” he said politely, his voice quieter than usual.

Bakugo frowned, snapping out of his stupor. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he muttered, stepping aside to let Todoroki in. “Come on, you’re letting the cold in.”

Todoroki stepped inside, his movements precise but noticeably stiff, like he was trying too hard not to mess anything up. Bakugo couldn’t help but notice the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, despite the cool evening air. The guy looked...nervous.

“You’re early,” Bakugo said, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms. His tone was less biting than usual, though he wouldn’t have admitted it if asked.

“I thought it would be polite,” Todoroki replied, glancing around the entryway as if trying to figure out where to put his shoes.

Mitsuki appeared a moment later, wiping her hands on her dish towel as she approached them. “Early’s good,” she said with a grin. “Gives us more time to eat before Katsuki inhales everything like a damn vacuum cleaner.”

“Mom, shut up,” Bakugo snapped, his ears tinged pink as he turned toward Todoroki. “Shoes off, idiot. You’re gonna track dirt everywhere.”

Todoroki nodded, toeing off his polished black shoes and setting them neatly by the door. Bakugo couldn’t help but notice how precise his movements were, like he was walking on eggshells.

“You nervous or something?” Bakugo asked, his voice quieter now, though there was still a gruff edge to it.

Todoroki hesitated for a moment before nodding slightly. “A little,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Bakugo blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. “Tch. Don’t be stupid. It’s just dinner.”

Mitsuki rolled her eyes, smacking Bakugo lightly on the back of the head as she passed. “Don’t mind him, Todoroki. He’s an ass, but he’s harmless.”

“I know,” Todoroki replied, his lips twitching slightly as if tempted to smile. His voice was steady, but his hands fidgeted briefly at his sides, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt before relaxing again. Bakugo caught the motion but didn’t comment, already annoyed by how calm Todoroki was pretending to be.

Mitsuki clapped a hand on Todoroki’s shoulder, steering him further into the house. “Come on, kid. I’ll introduce you to Masaru. He’s the nice one in the family.”

“Mom!” Bakugo snapped, but Mitsuki ignored him, leading Todoroki into the living room.

Masaru Bakugo looked up from where he was flipping through a magazine on the couch. He was dressed casually in a light sweater and jeans, his soft features a stark contrast to his wife’s sharp energy. At the sight of Todoroki, he set the magazine down and rose to his feet, offering a small, welcoming smile.

“You must be Todoroki,” Masaru said, extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Have you?” Todoroki asked, shaking Masaru’s hand firmly. His gaze flicked toward Mitsuki for a moment, as if wondering what exactly she had said.

“Good things,” Masaru assured him, chuckling softly. “Mostly from her.” He gestured toward Mitsuki, who grinned.

“Damn right. Told him you were polite and got good grades,” she said. “Unlike somebody.” She shot a pointed look at Bakugo, who rolled his eyes.

“God, you never shut up, do you?” Bakugo muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

Ignoring her son, Mitsuki plopped onto the couch and gestured for Todoroki to sit as well. “Come on, make yourself at home. Dinner’ll be ready in a bit.”

Todoroki hesitated for just a second before sitting down, his posture ramrod straight. He rested his hands on his knees, his fingers lightly tapping against the fabric of his dress pants in a rhythm too subtle for anyone but Bakugo to notice.

“So, Todoroki,” Masaru said, sitting back down and picking up his magazine again, though he kept his attention on their guest. “Do you live far from here?”

“Not too far,” Todoroki replied. “It was about a twenty-minute walk.”

“You walked?” Mitsuki asked, leaning forward. “Why didn’t you take the bus or something?”

“I don’t mind walking,” Todoroki said, his voice even, though he glanced briefly at the window as if gauging how dark it had gotten.

“That’s dedication,” Masaru said with a small nod. “I’d have just stayed home if it was that far.”

“Maybe that’s why I’m the one who invited him and not you,” Mitsuki teased, nudging her husband with her elbow.

Masaru chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Bakugo snorted from his spot against the wall. “You didn’t invite him. You dragged him into this like some kind of charity case.”

“Watch your mouth,” Mitsuki snapped, tossing a couch cushion at him. “You could learn a thing or two from Todoroki about being polite.”

“I don’t need lessons from Icy-Hot,” Bakugo retorted, swatting the cushion away.

Meanwhile, Todoroki’s gaze shifted between the bickering mother and son, his expression unreadable. He reached up to adjust the collar of his shirt, the motion quick and deliberate, as though he needed something to do with his hands.

“So, Todoroki,” Masaru said again, his calm voice cutting through the noise. “What kind of food do you like? Mitsuki made a little bit of everything tonight.”

“Anything’s fine,” Todoroki replied, his tone polite but slightly clipped. He adjusted his collar again, as if it had suddenly become uncomfortable.

“Oh, come on,” Mitsuki said, her grin widening. “You’ve gotta have a favorite. Spit it out, kid.”

Todoroki hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, “Soba.”

“Soba, huh?” Masaru said thoughtfully. “Good choice. Simple and versatile.”

Mitsuki rolled her eyes. “You would say that. You’re boring as hell when it comes to food.”

“It’s not boring. It’s classic,” Masaru said with a shrug.

“Whatever,” Mitsuki muttered before turning her attention back to Todoroki. “You sad you got siblings, right? How are they?”

“Bet they’re not as big of a pain in the ass as Katsuki,” Mitsuki said with a smirk.

“Mom,” Bakugo snapped.

“Just saying,” Mitsuki said with a shrug. She turned back to Todoroki. “What do they do?”

“My sister’s in college, and my brothers are working,” Todoroki said simply.

“College, huh?” Masaru said, leaning back in his seat. “What’s she studying?”

“Psychology,” Todoroki replied.

Mitsuki raised an eyebrow. “Smart kid. Must run in the family.”

Todoroki didn’t respond immediately. He reached up to adjust his collar again, his fingers lingering on the fabric for a moment before dropping back to his lap. “She’s very determined,” he said finally.

Bakugo, watching the exchange from the corner of the room, frowned slightly. Something about the way Todoroki spoke—or didn’t speak—made him uneasy, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

“All right, dinner’s ready!” Mitsuki announced suddenly, standing up and clapping her hands together.

“Finally,” Bakugo muttered, pushing off the wall and heading toward the dining table.

Todoroki stood as well, smoothing down his shirt and following Mitsuki and Masaru toward the table. He moved with the same deliberate precision as before, but there was a slight rigidity to his shoulders, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it.

“So, Todoroki, what’s it like having that stick-in-the-mud Endeavor as a dad?”

Bakugo groaned immediately, sinking further into the armchair he’d claimed as his own. “Mom, what the hell kind of question is that?”

“What? It’s just a question!” Mitsuki shot back, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. “Don’t act like you weren’t wondering the same thing, Katsuki!”

“Yeah, but I’m not the one asking it out loud!” Bakugo retorted, scowling.

Todoroki blinked at the exchange, clearly uncertain how to respond. “It’s... not something I think about much,” he said after a pause.

“Oh, come on,” Mitsuki called from the kitchen as she rummaged through drawers. “You don’t think about your dad? Not even when you’re training or whatever it is you kids do?”

Masaru chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Mitsuki, maybe let the poor boy settle in before grilling him about his family.”

“I’m just making conversation!” Mitsuki yelled back. “It’s not my fault I’m curious!”

Todoroki’s lips twitched slightly, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and unease. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. “I’m used to questions about my family.”

“See? He’s a good sport,” Mitsuki said, poking her head back into the living room to flash a grin. “Unlike somebody.”

“God, would you shut up?” Bakugo snapped, glaring at her.

Todoroki shifted slightly in his seat, his hands resting neatly on his lap. His gaze flicked toward Bakugo, then back to Masaru. “Your house is very nice,” he said politely.

Masaru smiled. “Thank you. Mitsuki does most of the decorating.”

“And yelling,” Bakugo muttered under his breath.

“I heard that!” Mitsuki shouted from the kitchen.

Masaru chuckled again, then leaned back in his seat. “So, Todoroki, what’s your favorite subject in school?”

Todoroki hesitated for a moment before answering, “Literature.”

“Really?” Masaru’s eyebrows rose slightly. “What kind of books do you like?”

“Mostly fiction,” Todoroki said. “I like stories with complex characters.”

Mitsuki’s voice cut in from the kitchen. “What about those cheesy romance novels? You into those?”

Bakugo groaned audibly, covering his face with one hand. “Mom, for the love of god—”

Todoroki tilted his head slightly, considering the question. “Not usually,” he said, his tone as measured as ever. “But I’ve read a few that were interesting.”

“See? Nothing wrong with a little romance,” Mitsuki said triumphantly, returning to the living room with a tray of drinks.

“You’re impossible,” Bakugo muttered, sitting up just enough to grab one of the glasses.

Masaru stood up then, stretching slightly. “I’ll go help her with dinner,” he said to Todoroki, giving him a small nod. “You two behave yourselves.”

With that, Masaru disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Bakugo and Todoroki alone in the living room.

For a moment, there was silence. Todoroki glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on a framed photo of Bakugo as a child. He tilted his head slightly. “You’ve had the same scowl since you were little.”

Bakugo turned to look at the photo and frowned. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Todoroki shrugged. “It’s consistent.”

“Consistent?” Bakugo repeated, narrowing his eyes.

Todoroki met his gaze calmly. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Bakugo stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “You’re weird, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Todoroki said, his tone entirely matter-of-fact.

Another silence settled between them, though it wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. Todoroki reached for his glass of water, taking a small sip before setting it back down. His movements were deliberate, almost overly precise, and Bakugo caught the way his fingers briefly tapped against the glass before he let go.

“So,” Bakugo said finally, leaning back in his chair. “What’s the deal with you showing up all dressed up like this?”

Todoroki blinked at him. “Your mother invited me to dinner.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Bakugo said, rolling his eyes. “But you didn’t have to show up looking like you’re going to a damn wedding or something.”

Todoroki glanced down at his outfit, then back at Bakugo. “I thought it was appropriate.”

Bakugo snorted. “Appropriate, my ass. You’re making the rest of us look like slobs.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Todoroki said evenly, though there was a faint hint of amusement in his voice.

“You’re so goddamn weird,” Bakugo muttered, shaking his head.

Before Todoroki could respond, Mitsuki’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready! Get your butts in here before it gets cold!”

Bakugo groaned, standing up and motioning for Todoroki to follow. “Come on, Icy-Hot. Let’s get this over with.”

Todoroki stood as well, smoothing down his shirt once more before following Bakugo into the dining room. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it—not directly, at least. But Bakugo caught the slight hesitation in his steps and the way his gaze darted toward the kitchen as if bracing himself for whatever chaos was waiting for them.

---

Todoroki stood outside the Bakugo household, staring at the door. He had taken extra care in getting ready for tonight, something he rarely did. His outfit—a black button-down shirt tucked neatly into dark dress pants—was meticulously chosen. He’d spent longer than usual smoothing out wrinkles, fixing his hair, and debating whether this was too much or not enough. Eventually, he settled on it, though the doubt lingered.

The walk over was deliberate. He hadn’t asked for a ride, even though he could have. Walking helped calm his nerves, gave him time to breathe, and let him sort through the knot of uncertainty building in his chest. Still, as he stood there in front of the door, the nervousness had crept back.

Taking a deep breath, Todoroki raised his hand and knocked, his knuckles tapping firmly against the door. For a moment, all he could hear was his own breathing. Then, the door swung open.

It was Bakugo who answered, his usual scowl in place, though it faltered briefly when he saw Todoroki standing there. For a second, there was only silence between them. Todoroki noted the flicker of surprise in Bakugo’s eyes before it disappeared, replaced by his typical gruffness.

“Is that Todoroki? Let him in, Katsuki!”

Bakugo clicked his tongue but stepped aside, gesturing for Todoroki to enter. As Todoroki stepped into the warm space, Mitsuki appeared, her presence as vibrant as her voice. She looked him up and down with an approving smile.

After awhile they all settled while dinner is being finished up and chat. Todoroki couldn’t help but feel a flicker of confusion as he watched their interaction. The way Mitsuki teased Bakugo, the way Bakugo grumbled in response—it was playful, not cutting. It was strange, unfamiliar. Todoroki had never seen this kind of dynamic before, this easy closeness that seemed to fill the room like an unspoken warmth.

The living room was lived-in, warm, and filled with small details that spoke of the family’s life together—photos on the walls, a slightly worn couch, a pile of magazines on the coffee table. It was nothing like his own home, where everything felt cold, calculated, and untouched.

As the chatter continued he felt a bit out of place. He was used to silence, to walls that seemed to close in around him. Here, everything felt open, even chaotic, but not in a bad way. It was overwhelming in a way he couldn’t quite put into words.

Masaru stood after a moment. “I’ll go see if Mitsuki needs help with dinner. You two behave yourselves.”

As Masaru disappeared into the kitchen, Todoroki was left alone with Bakugo. He glanced at the other boy, who was sprawled out on the couch, his usual scowl firmly in place.

Bakugo and Shoto had conversation then lulled for a moment, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. Todoroki found himself glancing around the room again, his gaze lingering on the little details that made this place a home. It was so different from what he knew, so warm and alive.

Then mid thought- and mid conversation Mitsuki’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready! Get your butts in here before it gets cold!”

As they all sat down to eat, Todoroki couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nervousness. He wasn’t used to such lively, warm dinners, and this felt like a strange new world for him—one where food wasn’t just fuel, but something to be savored, enjoyed.

The table was set with an array of dishes—something hearty, yet simple. There was a large bowl of homemade spaghetti, the noodles perfectly cooked and drizzled with a rich marinara sauce that glistened under the warm light. A medley of sautéed vegetables—bell peppers, onions, zucchini, and cherry tomatoes—sat in another bowl, their vibrant colors inviting and aromatic. In the center of the table was a steaming loaf of garlic bread, its crust golden-brown and crispy, the aroma filling the air and making his stomach growl. The food was hearty, comforting—everything a meal should be.

Todoroki found himself staring at his plate for a moment, his stomach a mix of excitement and nervousness. He wasn’t sure where to begin. Normally, he was careful about what he ate—his father always monitored his diet, making sure every meal was precisely calculated to meet his training needs. But here, in the warmth of Bakugo’s home, he didn’t feel that pressure. He could simply eat, enjoy, and not worry about the next training session or how many calories were in a serving of pasta.

He took a bite, savoring the rich, tangy sauce and the softness of the noodles. It was delicious—much more flavorful than anything he’d ever had at home. The garlic bread was perfect, with just the right amount of butter and seasoning, and the vegetables were tender, cooked just enough to bring out their natural sweetness. It was nothing like the carefully measured, nutrient-dense meals his father would insist on.

He felt himself relax slightly, as though he could let go of some of the tension that had built up during the evening. The atmosphere around the table was lively. Mitsuki and Masaru chatted easily, their voices full of warmth, while Bakugo alternated between poking fun at his mom and muttering about something that clearly annoyed him.

But as Todoroki continued to eat, he realized something: Mitsuki had forgotten to get him a drink. His throat was starting to feel a bit dry from the food, but he didn’t want to interrupt the flow of the conversation. It was strange to him, this quiet feeling of being part of something—a family gathering that wasn’t full of pressure or strict rules. He stayed silent, pushing the uncomfortable sensation down as best he could.

But then, Bakugo noticed.

“Oi, Mom,” Bakugo suddenly called out, his voice sharp but laced with a touch of concern. “You forget something?”

Mitsuki looked up from her own plate, her hand paused mid-air as she was about to take a bite. “What do you mean?”

“Shoto’s thirsty, you didn’t get him a drink.” Bakugo’s tone was dry, but there was something protective about it, something that caught Todoroki off guard.

Mitsuki blinked. “Oh, I—” she began, her face flushing slightly with embarrassment. 

Todoroki opened his mouth to say it was fine, but the words stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to be a bother, and his nerves had already tightened his chest enough. Instead, he gave a polite nod, glancing down at his empty glass, unsure if it was okay to ask for more.

“Don’t let him die of thirst, Mom,” Bakugo said, his voice laced with that typical sharpness, but there was an edge of something else underneath it. Mitsuki, slightly flustered from the moment, threw her hands up in the air with a good-natured eye roll.

“Alright, alright, Katsuki,” she said with a laugh. “Go show Todoroki where the cups are.”

Bakugo huffed but stood up from the table, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Come on, then,” he muttered, his tone almost like an order, but not harsh enough to be cruel. Todoroki followed, though he hesitated for a moment before moving, his body language still slightly stiff.

The kitchen was quiet, the air warm with the scent of dinner still lingering. Bakugo pulled open a cabinet and yanked out a cup. “Here,” he said, tossing one toward Shoto. Todoroki caught it with a quick motion and hesitated again, unsure what to do next. He glanced back at Bakugo, who had already turned away, pulling open the fridge to get something to drink.

“Do you want water, or—?” Bakugo asked without turning, his voice softer than before.

“Water’s fine,” Todoroki replied quickly, his voice calm but with an underlying note of uncertainty.

Bakugo grabbed a bottle of water and handed it over without much fanfare. Todoroki took it, his hand brushing Bakugo’s for a fraction of a second, and it was just enough to send a shiver through him. 

Todoroki nodded his thanks, his fingers curling tightly around the bottle. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

Bakugo grunted in acknowledgment and leaned against the counter, his eyes drifting toward the window for a second. He was suddenly a bit lost in his thoughts, and Todoroki, as usual, didn’t know quite how to bridge the gap. They weren’t friends. Not really. They were just… two people who happened to find themselves in this situation, trying to make sense of it.

“Uh, I should—” Todoroki began, taking the bottle and pouring it into the cup, but in the process, his hand fumbled slightly. The water bottle tipped, and before he could react, it clattered against the edge of the counter, causing the cup to slide off the surface, crashing against the floor.

The sound was sharp, and the moment it happened, Todoroki’s heart seemed to stop. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes locked onto the fallen glass. He immediately froze, his mind going into overdrive.

I can’t believe I did that.

Why did I do that?

Todoroki’s hand shot out, his heart pounding in his chest. His fingers trembled as he picked up the broken glass, but he couldn’t stop his mind from spiraling.

It’s a mess.

I’ve made a mess in someone else’s house. They’re going to be mad. She’s going to be mad.

Todoroki’s mind raced uncontrollably, the pounding of his heart drowning out everything around him. The glass shattered on the floor, and the sound was deafening in his ears. His breathing became shallow, rapid, as the weight of the mistake crushed him. I’ve ruined everything. The words spiraled over and over in his mind, and the panic swelled so fast he couldn’t keep up.

They’re going to be angry. They’re going to hate me. I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve been more careful.

Todoroki’s breath hitched as he tried to keep the pieces together. He could feel the cut from the glass. It stung, but it wasn’t even about the pain. It was about the guilt—the overwhelming, suffocating guilt of messing up, of disappointing everyone around him. His heart clenched tightly, like a fist in his chest.

“Shoto, it’s fine,” Bakugo’s voice broke through the noise in Todoroki’s mind, though it felt distant, like it was coming from far away. “Stop freaking out.”

“I’m sorry.” Todoroki blurted out again, his voice trembling. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and before he even realized it, he was kneeling, attempting to gather the broken pieces of glass, his fingers desperately trying to hold it together. His hands were shaking so badly that he couldn’t focus. The blood from the shards of glass began to pool, but it didn’t register in his mind. He was too consumed by his own panic to even notice.

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up, I promise. Please, I didn’t mean to—I just—” Todoroki’s voice broke off into a strangled sob, but he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. He wasn’t even aware that he was still bleeding from his hands. The glass shards bit into his skin, and it felt like he deserved it—like it was his punishment.

The sharp sting of guilt, the bitter taste of failure, crushed him with every passing second. He was suffocating. He felt like the air was too thick. He could barely think. He didn’t deserve to be here.

“Shoto, stop!” Bakugo shouted, suddenly rushing toward him. He grabbed Todoroki’s hands, pulling them away from the broken glass with force. “You’re gonna hurt yourself even more!”

Todoroki snapped out of his panic, his head jerking up, his vision flickering as Bakugo’s hands wrapped around his bleeding palms. The warmth of Bakugo’s grip cut through the panic, just enough for Todoroki to breathe, to stop the overwhelming thoughts for a moment.

But his heart was still racing. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and he felt embarrassed. He was so embarrassed.

Mitsuki entered the kitchen, startled by the commotion. She stopped short when she saw Todoroki’s hands, blood dripping from his fingers, the broken glass still scattered on the floor. “What the hell is going on here?” she asked, her voice sharp but with genuine concern.

Todoroki, still reeling from the panic, didn’t even register her presence. He flinched away from Bakugo’s hands, trying to pull his own back, but the pain of the glass shards, now mingled with his own self-loathing, made it impossible.

“I’m so sorry.” Todoroki’s voice was barely a whisper now, his breath shallow as he stared at his bloodied hands, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I didn’t mean to make a mess. I’ll clean it. Please, I’m sorry.”

Mitsuki’s eyes softened as she walked toward him, crouching down beside him. She gently reached for his hands, but Todoroki flinched, pulling them back instinctively. She paused, surprised by the reaction.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm, but a little confused. “It’s just a glass, sweetheart. You’re not going to be punished for it.”

But Todoroki’s mind wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t focus on her voice, couldn’t focus on the warmth in her words. All he could hear was his father’s voice in his head, the harsh disappointment, the anger, the coldness that had been his constant companion for so many years.

Bakugo looked over at his mom, equally perplexed. He didn’t know what was going on, why Todoroki was acting like this. It was just a damn glass. Why was Todoroki freaking out so much?

“I don’t get it,” Bakugo muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated, looking at his mom. “Why is he freaking out over this?”

Todoroki, still reeling, didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat felt tight. Please, just let me go back home. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come.

Bakugo sighed heavily, his frustration turning into something softer—maybe concern, maybe just confusion. He didn’t really know what to make of it. He’d never seen anyone act like this over something so small.

“Hey,” Bakugo said, his voice quieter now, a little softer. “It’s just a glass. Stop acting like you’re gonna get thrown out.” He crouched down in front of Todoroki, looking at him with a strange, almost uncertain expression. “We’re not gonna judge you over a damn cup.”

Todoroki stared at the floor, his breath shallow, but slowly, slowly, his heartbeat started to steady. Bakugo’s words cut through his panic just enough for him to breathe, just enough to calm his racing thoughts.

“Just sit up, okay?” Bakugo said gently. He reached for Todoroki’s arms and helped him back into a sitting position. “You’re not in trouble. Stop freaking out.”

It took a moment for Todoroki to respond, but eventually, he nodded, though his hands were still shaking and blood still dripped down his fingers. He wasn’t sure how to feel.

Mitsuki sighed as she reached for a broom, “It’s really alright, Shoto,” she said, her tone much softer now, full of warmth. “You’re not in trouble. You didn’t hurt anyone.”

Todoroki couldn’t quite grasp her words. He nodded numbly, still trying to push down the knot in his throat. His head was spinning, and the pressure in his chest still hadn’t released.

But for the first time since he had stepped into this house, there was no anger. No yelling. No punishment. It wasn’t what he was used to, and the warmth was so foreign, so completely different from anything he had known.

Still, his heart was uneasy. There was no way to explain how all of this felt. He wasn’t sure if he would ever truly understand. But for now, he simply sat there, breathing, trying to get his mind back from the panic that had overtaken him.

And Bakugo, still confused but with a new edge of protectiveness in his gaze, didn’t let go of his hand just yet. He stayed by his side, quietly ensuring he didn’t slip back into that panic. The way Todoroki had reacted was unlike anything Bakugo had ever seen, and it made him pause, made him think, even if he didn’t understand it completely.

Bakugo stood there, his mind racing. He watched his mom kneel down to clean up the mess, her expression softening with every movement, but it didn’t do much to ease the tension in his chest. His eyes flickered back to Todoroki, who was still sitting on the floor, looking like he might break at any moment.

Mitsuki’s voice cut through the noise in his head. “Bakugo, go take care of Shoto. I’ll clean this up.”

Bakugo didn’t know what the hell to do. His handstwitched at his sides, fingers itching to do something—anything—but he was completely unsure how to handle this. He was used to being rough, loud, quick to act without thinking. But this? This felt different. He wasn’t used to someone looking this lost, this fragile. And for some reason, something in his chest tightened.

“Yeah, fine,” Bakugo muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He wasn’t sure what had him feeling like this, but something pulled at him, deeper than his usual irritation or confusion.

He turned toward Todoroki, who still looked like he was about to fall apart at the seams. “Come on,” Bakugo said, more gently than he intended. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Todoroki nodded quietly, his expression distant. He stood, unsteady on his feet, and Bakugo instinctively moved to support him. As they walked toward the bathroom, Todoroki’s hand was still bleeding, but there was an odd calm that settled over him the closer they got to the bathroom. Bakugo wasn’t sure what it was—maybe it was the fact that his mom was taking care of the mess, or maybe it was just Todoroki’s silence—but it was there. 

“Sit here,” Bakugo gestured to the counter once they were in the bathroom. Todoroki obeyed quietly, sitting on the edge of the sink, hands resting awkwardly in his lap. Bakugo took a breath before pulling out the first aid kit, feeling that familiar heat start to prickle at the back of his neck. It wasn’t that he was nervous; it was something else. His fingers brushed against Todoroki’s as he reached for a bandage, and for a moment, the silence between them felt heavier than usual.

“Does it hurt?” Bakugo asked, his voice softer than usual as he focused on cleaning Todoroki’s hands.

Todoroki shook his head slightly, still avoiding his gaze. “It’s fine,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugo didn’t answer right away, his thoughts swirling again. He was trying to ignore how it felt to be this close to Todoroki, how the quietness between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but… warm. He focused on wrapping the bandage around Todoroki’s hand, trying to keep his movements steady.

But despite the focus, his mind kept drifting back to the strange feeling. Todoroki was quiet, far too quiet, and Bakugo didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t like he’d never seen Todoroki look serious, but this was different—this was like the weight of everything was about to crush him. And for some reason, Bakugo didn’t want that to happen.

When he finished, he stepped back, glancing at Todoroki. “There. All good,” he said, not meeting his eyes.

Todoroki nodded, his gaze flicking briefly to the bandages before looking back down at his lap. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Bakugo hesitated, his fingers lingering on the bandage as he looked up at Todoroki, who was sitting quietly on the counter, his eyes avoiding his. There was something about this whole situation that didn’t sit right with Bakugo, and the urge to understand why Todoroki had freaked out earlier hit him like a ton of bricks.

“You know, I gotta ask,” Bakugo finally said, his voice low and surprisingly calm. He met Todoroki’s gaze, his expression serious. “Why’d you freak out back there? What the hell was that about?”

Todoroki stiffened at the question, his gaze flicking to the floor before he met Bakugo’s eyes again, this time with a look that was a mix of confusion and frustration. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again, as if trying to find the right words.

“I just... I don’t understand,” Todoroki muttered, his voice tight. “You guys were acting like everything was normal. Like nothing happened. But it’s not like that for me. I’m not used to... this.”

Bakugo blinked, feeling more perplexed by the second. “What do you mean ‘not used to this’?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Todoroki’s jaw clenched as his frustration started to bubble up. His eyes darted around the bathroom, like he couldn’t contain the rush of thoughts in his head anymore. “I mean all of it, Bakugo. The food, the way your mom talks to me like I’m normal. I don’t get why I didn’t get yelled at for breaking the glass. Why you’re not treating me like I did something wrong.”

Bakugo was taken aback, his mind struggling to catch up with Todoroki’s words. “What the hell are you talking about? You didn’t do anything wrong,” Bakugo said, his voice rising a bit with confusion. “You dropped a glass. Big deal.”

Todoroki clenched his fists at his sides, his frustration growing. “It’s a big deal to me!” he snapped, his voice shaking slightly. “Where I come from, I would’ve been punished for something like that. It’s never just a simple mistake. I don’t understand why this feels so... casual!” His eyes flashed with a mix of disbelief and hurt, his shoulders tensing like he wanted to run but was stuck there in front of Bakugo.

Bakugo’s thoughts reeled, trying to make sense of what Todoroki was saying. His mind quickly flashed back to what he had seen in Todoroki’s expression earlier, the way his hands had shaken when the glass dropped, the panic that had taken over him. It hit Bakugo all at once, the weight of what Todoroki was trying to explain.

“No,” Bakugo muttered, shaking his head as he looked at Todoroki, his voice low. “That’s not normal.”

Todoroki’s face faltered, his eyes searching Bakugo’s like he wanted confirmation but was too afraid to ask for it. Bakugo was taken aback by the vulnerability in his eyes. He had never seen Todoroki so... lost.

Todoroki’s gaze faltered again, and he seemed lost in thought for a moment, his eyes focusing on a distant spot on the bathroom wall. He hesitated, as though deciding whether to say anything more. But after a long moment of silence, his voice broke through, quiet and distant.

“When I was younger, I broke a glass in front of my father,” Todoroki began, his voice tight, his eyes not meeting Bakugo’s. “It wasn’t even on purpose. I was just... I was nervous he was in an bad mood that day, so I was on edge.” His voice cracked just slightly, but he pushed through it, like he had done so many times before. “He didn’t even say anything at first. He just stared at me. And then... he grabbed me by the collar and dragged me to the kitchen.” Todoroki’s breathing hitched slightly, and he paused before continuing. “He told me to pick up the pieces with my bare hands.”

Bakugo’s eyes widened, his stomach twisting in horror. Todoroki’s voice grew quieter, almost mechanical, like he was reciting something long buried. “I tried to do it, but I was shaking so much, and I cut my fingers on the glass. I... I started crying. He didn’t like that. He said I was being weak, and that I needed to learn discipline.” Todoroki’s gaze flickered to Bakugo for just a second before quickly darting away again. “When I couldn’t stop crying, he... he shoved me against the counter. Hard enough that I hit my head.”

Bakugo’s fists clenched tightly at his sides, his breath caught in his chest. He hadn’t expected this. The horror that flashed across his mind made it hard to breathe. He had never seen Shoto like this. Not like this—vulnerable, broken, and so, so lost. He wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat, his mind unable to form a coherent response.

Todoroki continued, his voice steady but hollow. “I remember him yelling at me, telling me that I was useless and pathetic. That if I couldn’t even handle cleaning up a mess, how could I ever amount to anything? He said I needed to understand consequences, that my mistakes wouldn’t just hurt me—they’d hurt everyone around me.” Todoroki’s expression grew even more distant, like he was reliving it all in his mind. “I remember feeling so dizzy. Then he made me kneel on the broken glass until I stopped crying.”

Bakugo felt his stomach churn, his jaw tightening so hard it hurt. The vivid image Todoroki painted made his blood boil, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching Todoroki unravel before him.

“I remember standing there after, my hands bleeding, my knees bleeding, and just... staring at him,” He finally looked at Bakugo, then plaiy says “It’s always been like that.” 

Bakugo stood there, watching him in stunned silence, the weight of Todoroki’s words pressing heavily on his chest. The way Todoroki spoke so earnestly about something so painful made Bakugo feel like he was seeing him in a completely new light. He had always thought of Todoroki as stoic and unshakable, but now he saw the cracks, the deep scars that no one could see.

He didn’t know how to respond. What could he say? He had no idea what it was like, to live under that kind of pressure, that kind of fear. His mind raced for words, but they didn’t come.

Without thinking, his hand moved on its own, almost instinctively, to cup Todoroki’s cheek. The warmth of his palm against Shoto’s skin was both comforting and intimate. Bakugo’s thumb gently brushed over the smooth skin of Todoroki’s cheek, his hand lingering there just for a moment, offering silent support. It was a small gesture, but it felt like it was everything in that moment.

Todoroki froze. His eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, Bakugo thought he might pull away, but instead, Todoroki’s hand hesitantly lifted to touch Bakugo’s, as if to say ‘thank you.’ His fingers brushed over Bakugo’s hand, almost like a whisper of contact, before he placed his palm over Bakugo’s.

Bakugo’s heart skipped a beat, but as quickly as it had happened, he pulled his hand away, suddenly realizing what he had just done. His chest tightened with embarrassment, his face flushing. He didn’t know why he had done that. It was too much, too personal. But it had felt right at the time. It was the only thing he could think to do.

“Uh—” Bakugo muttered, looking away, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Let’s just get outta here.” He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the strange feeling that lingered in the air.

He helped Todoroki off the counter, his hands moving with a surprising gentleness that he wasn’t used to. For a moment, neither of them said anything. There was a silence between them, thick with the weight of what had just passed.

---

Once they camae back, the mess was cleaned up and they resumed dinner. The atmosphere had regained its earlier warmth, though it felt slightly more subdued after what had happened. Misuki immediately turned to Todoroki, her voice full of reassurance as they sat back down.

“You’re fine, Shoto,” she said with a warm smile, waving off any lingering guilt he might have been carrying. “It’s just a glass. No big deal.”

Todoroki nodded, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you,” though his shoulders were still a little tense. Bakugo noticed the faint tremor in Todoroki’s hands as he reached for his utensils, his fingers brushing over the fabric of the bandages now wrapped around them.

Dinner continued, the room filled with chatter and laughter as Misuki and Masaru carried the conversation, occasionally pulling Bakugo in. Todoroki sat quietly, trying to blend into the background, though it was obvious he wasn’t used to this kind of environment.

Bakugo kept an eye on him, noticing every fidget, every quiet glance toward his hands, every slight shift in his seat. It was almost like he was trying to make himself invisible. And Bakugo hated it. The memory of what Todoroki had just shared kept replaying in his head, anger and frustration bubbling in his chest every time he thought about it. He didn’t know how to deal with it, so he did the only thing he could think of.

He leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Hey, I didn’t know you were trying to steal the spotlight, Icy Hot. Breaking a glass just to get all the attention? That’s a bold move.”

The words came out with his usual roughness, but there was a flicker of humor in his tone. Misuki, however, wasn’t impressed.

“Katsuki!” she scolded, her brows furrowing as she shot him a sharp look. “That’s not funny!”

Bakugo rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “What? I’m just saying. At least he knows how to make an entrance.”

The two of them bickered back and forth, Misuki calling him out for being insensitive while Bakugo stubbornly defended himself, though it was clear he wasn’t really trying that hard to argue. Todoroki, watching the exchange, suddenly let out a small laugh.

The sound caught Bakugo completely off guard. He froze, mid-retort, and turned to look at Todoroki, his mouth hanging slightly open. It wasn’t a loud laugh—it was quiet and soft, almost hesitant, like Todoroki wasn’t used to letting himself laugh. But it was there, and for a moment, it was the only thing Bakugo could focus on.

“You’re all so weird,” Todoroki said, his voice carrying a faint trace of amusement as he shook his head. The small smile that lingered on his face was so genuine, so unguarded, that it made Bakugo’s chest tighten.

He didn’t have a comeback. His usual sharp wit deserted him, leaving him staring at Todoroki like an idiot. He felt a heat rise to his face, and he clenched his jaw, willing it to go away. No. Absolutely not. There was no way he was going to let himself go soft over something like this. Over Todoroki. Against his better judgment, a small, genuine smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He cursed the warmth in his chest, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring at Todoroki for just a second longer than necessary. For a brief, fleeting moment, he let himself feel it.

Then, just as quickly, he shoved it down, scowling to himself. No way in hell. Not happening. He looked away, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. 

---

Dinner wrapped up with a feeling of warmth that Todoroki wasn’t quite used to. As he helped set his plate aside, he turned to Misuki and Masaru, bowing his head slightly in gratitude.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said, his voice steady but sincere. “It was delicious. I really appreciated it.”

Misuki smiled brightly. “Of course, Shoto! You’re welcome here anytime. Are you sure you don’t want to stay a little longer? Or we can give you a ride, if you’d like.”

Todoroki shook his head politely. “No, thank you. I don’t want to impose. I’ll be fine walking.”

Despite Misuki’s insistence, Todoroki’s tone left little room for argument. He said his goodbyes and stepped outside, the cool evening air greeting him as he began his walk. The world outside felt different—less heavy, somehow—but the lingering tension in his chest reminded him that his reality awaited him at home.

Just as he reached the end of the street, the sound of a door opening and hurried footsteps broke the quiet. He turned, spotting Bakugo jogging toward him. For a second, Todoroki stopped in his tracks, unsure what to expect.

“Bakugo?” he said plainly, his tone carrying that usual mix of sarcasm and bluntness that somehow never felt harsh.

“Tch.” Bakugo slowed his pace as he reached him, running a hand through his hair like he hadn’t just rushed out of the house. “What? I wasn’t following you or anything, dumbass. Just... happened to be going this way.”

Todoroki raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “Sure. You just happened to jog all the way out here.”

“Shut up,” Bakugo snapped, crossing his arms but not stepping away. “I just—” He hesitated, his sharp eyes darting to the side as if searching for an excuse. “Wanted to make sure you weren’t getting lost or something. You’re not exactly the type who looks where he’s going.”

Todoroki’s smirk grew ever so slightly, his tone light but still pointed. “I managed to find my way here, didn’t I?”

“Barely,” Bakugo shot back, though there was no real heat in his voice. He narrowed his eyes, studying Todoroki for a moment. The calm sarcasm in his words and the subtle lift of his brow were so normal, so him, that it eased some of the worry Bakugo hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

Bakugo gritted his teeth, staring at the ground as he muttered under his breath, “Just—don’t trip on your way home or some shit.”

Todoroki blinked, caught slightly off guard by the random comment. “I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about.”

“Whatever.” Bakugo scowled, crossing his arms. “You’ve got two left feet, don’t you? Wouldn’t want you to break another glass, dumbass.”

Todoroki’s lips quirked faintly, his tone teasing despite his reserved demeanor. “You seem oddly concerned about that for someone who doesn’t care.”

“I don’t care,” Bakugo shot back quickly, his voice rising slightly before he realized how defensive he sounded. He groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Why the hell are you so weird, anyway?”

“Weird?” Todoroki repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, weird,” Bakugo huffed, gesturing vaguely. “You’re always so quiet and... broody. It’s like talking to a brick wall half the time.”

Todoroki considered this for a moment, his expression as calm as ever. “And yet, here you are, still talking to me.”

Bakugo opened his mouth to retort but stopped short, narrowing his eyes at the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of Todoroki’s lips.

“Tch. Smartass,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind it.

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet night, the faint rustle of leaves in the breeze the only sound between them. Todoroki shifted his stance slightly, his gaze flickering back toward the street ahead as if preparing to leave again.

“Hey,” Bakugo said again, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

Todoroki paused, looking back at him fully now, curiosity flashing in his mismatched eyes. He didn’t say anything, waiting, the silence between them stretching thin.

Bakugo's gaze locked on Todoroki, the faint breeze carrying the cool night air between them, rustling the edges of Todoroki’s jacket. Something in his chest twisted uncomfortably, and before he could stop himself, he spoke, his voice low but firm, like it was an order he couldn’t quite enforce.

“Don’t go back.”

The words hung in the air like a tangible weight, thick and suffocating. Todoroki froze, his expression unreadable as he studied Bakugo for a long, heavy moment. Finally, he let out a soft breath, his voice barely above a whisper but steady.

“I have to.”

The answer was simple, but it hit Bakugo harder than he expected. A sharp ache ran through him, one he didn’t want to acknowledge. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. The silence stretched between them, oppressive and endless, as if the world had come to a standstill.

“You could stay,” Bakugo blurted out, his voice uncharacteristically strained. “I don’t—fuck—I don’t know. Here. Or something.”

Todoroki blinked, his mismatched eyes widening for the briefest moment before softening. He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried an air of acceptance, of inevitability.

“Bakugo,” he said quietly, his tone gentle, almost fond. “You know it doesn’t work like that.”

And then the wind shifted, picking up strands of Todoroki’s hair and tossing them lightly around his face. The dying sun dipped low in the horizon, its golden light spilling over Todoroki’s features. The warmth of the setting sun caught in his eyes, making them glimmer like molten gold and ice, and for a fleeting moment, Bakugo felt like everything else faded away.

The world grew quiet, save for the sound of the breeze and the distant hum of the city. Bakugo’s breath hitched as he stood there, frozen, staring at Todoroki as if he were seeing something he’d never fully understood until now. Something about the way the light framed him, the way he stood there, poised yet vulnerable, made Bakugo feel like he wanted to stay here forever.

Not because he cared or anything. Of course not.

It was because he was a hero. Yeah, that was it. Heroes didn’t let people walk back into hell. Heroes didn’t stand by and do nothing. That was all this was. Just instincts. Just responsibility.

Bakugo's fists curled at his sides as he forced the words into the space between them, more to ground himself than to sway Todoroki.

Todoroki took a step closer.

The distance between them vanished in an instant, and Bakugo’s breath hitched. Todoroki was so close now that Bakugo could see every detail of his face—the slight curve of his mouth, the subtle scar splitting one side, the way his mismatched eyes bore into him with an intensity that made his stomach twist.

The golden light of the setting sun bathed Todoroki’s face, softening the sharp lines of his features and making him look impossibly serene, despite the storm in his gaze. Bakugo felt rooted to the spot, his heart pounding in his chest like a damn drum.

What the hell was he doing?

Bakugo clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the flush creeping up his neck. He couldn’t look at Todoroki’s face any longer—it was too much, too overwhelming. He needed to say something, anything, to break the tension before it swallowed him whole.

“Don’t take me lightly,” he snapped, his voice rougher than he intended. “I’m a fucking hero! I’m gonna be number one someday! And I’m gonna do something about this! I’m not just gonna sit by while you—”

“Okay,” Todoroki said softly, cutting him off.

Bakugo’s words faltered mid-sentence, the abruptness of the response stealing the air from his lungs. The quiet weight of Todoroki’s agreement was enough to throw him off completely.

Then Todoroki tilted his head slightly, his gaze unwavering as he added in a voice so quiet it barely reached Bakugo’s ears, “Please save me, Mr. Hero.”

The words hit like a lightning strike, sharp and electrifying. Bakugo’s mouth opened, but for a moment, no sound came out. His face burned hot, and he glared fiercely, desperate to regain control of the situation.

“Fuck off!” he finally barked, his voice cracking slightly. “I’m serious, dammit!”

Todoroki’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, his expression unreadable but somehow knowing, like he could see right through Bakugo’s tough façade.

“I know,” Todoroki said simply, his voice steady and sincere, the look in his eyes grounding Bakugo more than he wanted to admit.

For once, Bakugo didn’t have a comeback. Bakugo's breath was uneven, his glare fixed on Todoroki as if the sheer force of his frustration could hide the turmoil inside him. Todoroki, ever calm, held his gaze for a moment longer before finally letting his shoulders relax, a small, almost imperceptible exhale leaving his lips.

Then, as if moved by some unseen instinct, Todoroki extended his hand—not all the way, not with intention. His fingers brushed against Bakugo's wrist, light and hesitant, as though testing whether the connection would break the fragile air between them.

Bakugo froze. His skin burned where Todoroki’s fingertips lingered, and his immediate thought was to jerk away, to spit some sharp retort. But something in Todoroki’s touch was grounding, steady despite its softness, and Bakugo found himself rooted to the spot.

It wasn’t much, just the faintest contact, but it was enough to carry an unspoken message.

“I’ll be fine,” Todoroki murmured, his voice low and calm, yet there was an undertone to his words—a quiet plea, a crack in the wall he kept so carefully intact.

Bakugo’s jaw clenched. He wanted to believe that, wanted to accept it, but something inside him warred against the idea of letting Todoroki walk away like this. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

Instead, his hand moved almost on its own, his fingers lightly brushing Todoroki’s in response—not a grasp, not anything too much, just a faint acknowledgment.

“Okay,” Bakugo said at last, his voice rough but quieter than usual.

Todoroki offered a small, faintly lopsided smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes but still carried a trace of warmth. Without another word, he stepped back, breaking the contact and turning toward the street. The golden glow of the sunset outlined his silhouette as he began to walk away, the steady sound of his footsteps fading into the stillness of the evening.

Bakugo stood there, unmoving, watching Todoroki’s figure grow smaller and smaller until he disappeared into the horizon. His chest felt tight, his heart pounding in a way he didn’t understand.

“Stupid,” he muttered under his breath as he walked back too his house.