For a while, there was only the pain.

It shook inside of him, just as irrepressible as the petals that fell from his lips. It was all so much, swallowing him up like a rising wave, all of the anger, and frustration, and fear, and even as it seemed like the wave was receding, every painful gasp for air served as a bitter reminder. There was no holding it back. So, he cried. And it didn't matter how vulnerable or ashamed it made him feel, because somehow, it felt good.

The voices were far away, their soft 'it's okay Katsuki, it's all okay's repeated over and over again like a broke record, but there was still comfort in it. With his mother's swaying embrace, comforting fingers running through his hair, his dad's firm rub on his back, it all slowly began to ebb away. The tears, the emotions, even the petals themselves receded, as if they were all used up. As if gone with the tide. Inside of him, the floodwaters left behind a hollow shell, a new sort of numbness. Except this time, the numbness wasn't chemically synthesized. Katsuki was simply at his wit's end.

His arms fell limp from around his mom's torso, eyelids heavy as he leaned into her form, lungs barely bothering to take in even shallow breaths. The exhaustion was overwhelming. There was still the seat of the couch underneath him, still arms wound around him, still the voices of comfort in his ears, but those were the only things tethering him to reality.

"We never taught you, did we? How to feel your emotions." The new words caught his attention. It was his dad. "How to deal with them."

Katsui shook his head. He didn't like that.

"I'm sorry, Katsuki," his mom was speaking next, "I shouldn't have pushed you so hard, not when you were hurting like that."

He didn't want their apologies, dammit. He just wanted this all to be over.

"We're sorry," his dad patted his back, apologizing again, and Katsuki hated it. "We didn't know the medicine would affect your emotions so much."

"But how," he finally croaked out, voice coarse from the coughing. With new strength, his fists clenched into the back of his mom's shirt. "Why couldn't I..."

"That was just the medicine working, Katsuki," his mom breathed. "Just the medicine, that's all."

"It's bullshit," he muttered into her shoulder.

"I know, Katsuki, I know."

Katsuki barely noticed when his father took a box of tissues from the side table, cleaning up the mess of petals that had fallen everywhere.

"It's total fucking bullshit," he muttered again, more to himself than anyone else, a dangerously pissed-off tone creeping into his voice. "What sort of fucked-up bullshit—?"

"—I'll uh, go get him some water," his dad piped up quickly, rising to his feet.

"Why the fuck would they give me something like that?" He finally pulled away, sinking into the couch with a huff.

"Without love, the flowers can't grow, right?" his mom offered. "But it's not like medicine is smart. It can't tell emotions apart, so..."

Katsuki closed his eyes, sighing. "So it just took everything away."

"Yes."

It was all starting to make sense. He leaned his head back, staring up at the ceiling. Studying it. Anything to keep himself from crashing back into reality at full speed.

For a long while, they stayed silent like that. Even when his dad returned with a water bottle, Katsuki only drank from it silently, stewing in his thoughts while his parents waited on.

But finally, he managed to speak.

"What do I do?"

He sounded a lot more scared than he would have liked.

His mom let out a thoughtful hum. "That's what we need to work out next. You have a doctor's appointment tomorrow."

"Fuck. I can't fall behind." He ran a hand down his face. "Not anymore."

"We'll get UA to send a tutor."

"And training?"

"We could look into ways to advance your curriculum when you return to school."

Would it be enough? Would any of this be enough to make up for all that wasted time? There was so much he was missing out on, Katsuki couldn't stop the doubt that ate away at him. But, what other choice did he have?

"What have we been telling you, Katsuki?" His dad placed a hand on his shoulder. "Since the very beginning?"

Katsuki shrugged.

"You'll get through this," his mom responded. When Katsuki looked into her eyes, they were warm. "We're here for you, no matter what. And we love you so, so much. You know that?"

The feelings in his head were growing too much again. Katsuki sighed, closing his eyes as if that would help seal them all away.

He nodded.

~oOo~

His doctor's appointment had been yesterday. After studying the x-rays and assessing Katsuki's condition, the doctor suggested much the same as Recovery Girl – a similar medicine with a lower dosage to help keep the side effects under control. Katsuki had found no will within him, or reason to object. His parents had agreed, too, and the prescription was written and ordered. Now it was just a waiting game.

In much the same way, Katsuki was waiting in his bed that very evening. UA had been more than happy to supply a student tutor so long as their home visit was accompanied by a faculty supervisor. It was just a matter of them driving over after their class' training was finished for the day. And Katsuki had been waiting, cooped up in his room, since that morning, and it had been boring as fuck. At this point, he didn't even care if the tutor was someone annoying, he just needed to have something to do.

From outside his window, he heard car doors slam shut. Katsuki sat up on his bed, looking through the blinds at the sleek black car that was now parked on the street in front of his house. On the side facing him was Mr. Aizawa, still in his hero costume from that school day. Walking around the car, a glimpse of red. Then, of white.

Katsuki growled under his breath. "You can't be fucking serious."

Honestly though, Katsuki should have expected it. It made sense, fucking half-n-half was among the top of the class, not to mention that he had seen the Hanahaki and seemed to somehow know what it was already. But that didn't make it any less irritating.

"Katsuki!" His mom's voice suddenly carried loud and clear from the ground floor. "They're here!"

"Coming," he shouted back, slinking his legs over the side of the bed and rising, dragging his feet to his bedroom door.

The doorbell rang, and right as Katsuki made it about halfway down the stairs, his mother opened the front door while his father stood by patiently, still in his cooking apron from preparing dinner.

"Good evening! Welcome! Come on in, come on in," his mother waved the two guests inside cheerily.

Katsuki watched over the banister as the door closed behind them. Aizawa thanked his mother and briefly introduced Todoroki before toeing out of his shoes. Meanwhile, Katsuki had to suppress a snort as Todoroki stared wide-eyed at Mom for just a moment, something like alarm on his features. Katsuki knew that face. He knew it well. It was the 'holy-shit-the-resemblance-is-uncanny' face.

But Dad ruined the moment by asking if he could hang Todoroki's uniform jacket. Todoroki obliged, placing his backpack on the floor as he shrugged it off. As he stepped out of the genkan and glanced around curiously, his eyes fell onto Katsuki. He gave a curt nod.

Katsuki let out a tch and turned his head away, leaning against the stairwell wall behind him.

"Thank you so much, both of you, for taking your time to do this." Even though his mother casually expressed her gratitude, she still somehow always managed to sound sincere.

"We can't express our gratitude enough. Although, perhaps dinner might help," his dad piped up, motioning for Aizawa to follow him into their kitchen. "It'll be ready in a few. We can prepare some tea as well."

"Todoroki, just follow Katsuki up to his room," his mom smiled sweetly at the guest. "I'll bring the two of you your dinner." Her voice became louder and snappier as she turned towards the stairwell. "You hear that, Katsuki?"

"Yeah yeah, I heard ya," Katsuki rolled his eyes, kicking his foot impatiently against the wall before pushing himself back to standing. "Oi, icy-hot. Hurry up." Without even waiting for Todoroki, he slowly began stomping up the stairs.

It wasn't long before he heard rushed steps behind him. In even less time, their footsteps fell in pace with each other. They made it all the way to the landing in silence.

"She looks just like you," Todoroki finally spoke.

This time, Katsuki did snort. He turned to his room, at the end of the hallway. As he made sure that Todoroki was following him from the corner of his eye, Katsuki watched Todoroki glance around at the picture-adorned walls that surrounded them.

"You were a cute kid."

"Look, can you be not creepy for once? Christ." Katsuki shoved his hands into his sweatpants pockets. "Smalltalk doesn't suit you."

Even still, he couldn't stop his attention from drifting to the frames. Grandparents, aunt, uncle, the occasional cousin. The professional pictures he and his parents had gotten done the previous spring. Before that, his parents' 15th anniversary. And even earlier, from elementary school, some candids from Tokyo Disneyland.

"My old man's a sentimental bastard," he found himself explaining. "Won't take the stupid pictures down."

For some reason, in that moment, Katsuki thought about the conversation he had overheard between Todoroki and Deku during the sports festival. The one about his home life. He couldn't help but wonder just how foreign all of this was to Todoroki.

He reached to open the door. "What the fuck do you even get out of this, anyways?" he called out.

Todoroki looked to him. Shrugged. "Nothing. But, I have to do my homework anyways."

Katsuki sighed. Fair enough.

They stepped across the threshold into his bedroom, and while he'd be the last to admit it, Katsuki couldn't stop the anxiety that was beginning to dig a pit in his stomach. Their tutoring session was supposed to last about two hours. Two hours alone with the bastard who knew way more about his life than was comfortable. The pressure, the curiosity, the questions that were no doubt plaguing Todoroki's mind settled in the room like a goddamn elephant.

And suddenly, Katsuki's own curiosity and questions for Todoroki, ones that had been nagging him for fucking days, didn't matter anymore. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally prompt his own interrogation.

The two of them settled down on the floor, leaning against the bed, placing textbooks and paper on the short table in front of them. Todoroki told him to open his Algebra book, and without further ado, they set to work.

Only about 15 minutes later, his mother brought them their food. But rather than put aside their schoolwork to eat and converse, the two trudged steadily along, first through algebra which had been easy enough, just adding on to what the class had learned the previous week. When Katsuki's dad came to collect their licked-clean plates, they started on their English, whose prepositions were just as fucking stupid as they always were, but the worksheet was standard enough. Then, as the first hour passed, they moved on to chemistry. With each subject, Todoroki would explain the basic principles before they would split off to work on the assignments, mostly alone, and in absolute silence.

That icy-hot bastard was certainly quiet. When they were working independently, he only spoke when he had to, which in of itself was a rarity. The guy was one of the top in the class' academics, after all -- the two of them matched pace easily without much consultation.

It grated on Katsuki's nerves. Something was missing, some sort of banter between the two of them, some camaraderie. Where were those stupid fucking jokes that he always heard? The frustrated huffs that Kirishima would make when he couldn't figure something out? The mumbling under Kirishima's breath when he was trying to think through a word problem, the way Kirishima would cheer when he got something right, Kirishima, Kirishima, Kirishima—

Then there was the squeezing in his chest, the tickling, the goddamn smell, and he was too far gone to hold the roses back any longer. He scrounged his eyes shut, hunching over, coughing into the crook of his elbow.

Goddamnit.

There was no way to know how many fell, for as soon as they were over, the corner of something poked into his shoulder. Katsuki turned sharply, only to see Todoroki fucking shoving a tissue box at him. With a tch, Katsuki took it and began cleaning himself up, tossing the waste in his basket.

And then, after that whole ordeal... they went right back to work. As if nothing had happened. There were no questions or comments or anything. Just a few lingering concerned glances in his direction. Just enough to let Katsuki know exactly what Todoroki was thinking about.

Seemed as though the fucking elephant in the room was the last thing Todoroki wanted to make small talk about, too. Katsuki couldn't decide if the silence made him feel relieved, or more on edge than ever, but the more that time passed uncomfortably between them – the more that Katsuki's own questions felt like they were going to eat him alive – the more it felt like the later. Frankly, it was just really fucking uncomfortable.

Finally, as Todoroki was finishing relaying to him their classic Japanese reading assignments when his mother's voice carried up the stairs, just as loud and brash as always.

"Hey you two! Start wrapping it up!"

"One moment!"

Katsuki slammed his textbook closed, jumping to his feet to cross the room in two steps. Todoroki wasn't far behind.

But Katsuki paused, hand frozen on the doorknob. At this point, he wasn't sure how many days this tutoring thing would last. He had told himself that he wasn't going to talk about... about that, and, he wasn't planning to, at least not really. But, the anxiety, it was growing and it wouldn't stop. He had to know one thing, for his own sanity, before the opportunity was gone.

Eyes fixed ahead of him, he took a breath. "You haven't told anyone?"

There was a brief moment without response. Then, there was a very assured "No."

Katsuki turned his head, letting his voice carry over his shoulder. "And you won't tell anyone, yeah?"

"Of course not."

And when Katsuki stole a glance, the look in Todoroki's eyes... it was understanding. And in that moment, what he felt towards Todoroki... it wasn't trust, exactly, but something similar. Solidarity, perhaps.

Katsuki gave a curt nod. He swung the door open and led Todoroki back down the stairs, back out the front door, back to a freedom that was so far out of his own reach.

And that was that.

~oOo~

His mother placed a glass of water on the kitchen table in front of him. Next to it, a small white capsule.

"Please, please actually take these."

Katsuki stared down at the pill. When they had gone to pick up the prescription from the doctor's earlier that day, they were told it was a lower dosage, but he was skeptical. It didn't look any different. Same size and everything. Probably just less concentrated though.

Still, Katsuki couldn't help the way his upper lip curled into what could have only been a snarl. He looked up to his parents. "Where's the bottle?"

"We were told to hang onto it, and supervise you taking it every morning. At least for now." His dad uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the counter. "You understand, don't you?"

Katsuki pursed his lips. He wasn't a fucking baby, but between being carried to the nurse's office three days ago, being on home rest, needing to be tutored, and now this medical supervision, he was certainly starting to feel like one. And it was not appreciated. Anger was bubbling up inside of him, and he wanted nothing more than to punch something.

In a split second, his thoughts drifted, and through some convoluted game of word association, his brain went from punching to punching bag to Kirishima's punching bag to Kirishima, red hair, sharp teeth, soft lips that, for a moment, he had totally wanted to kiss.

His eyes bulged as something in his chest tightened painfully.

Katsuki popped the pill into his mouth, chasing it with water before slamming the cup back onto the table.

~oOo~

With dinner hot in his stomach, Katsuki was able to let himself focus on this second tutoring session once more. His pencil scratched against the paper as he worked on the draft of a short essay for Hero History. It almost felt like he was able to work through the paper on autopilot, his mind easily able to wander a little as he wrote.

He had been taking the medication for one day now, and... he didn't feel much different. But it had taken a while for the first prescription to set in, too, so it was probably another waiting game. And, while his curiosity about Todoroki's situation still prodded at him, the more they studied together, the more he was able to suppress it all. It wasn't his business. Part of him didn't even want to know the truth anyways.

Still deep in thought, Katsuki pressed the pencil eraser to dispense more lead. Nothing happened. He clicked the eraser furiously. Still nothing.

All out.

He let out a curse under his breath before turning to the redhead that was next to him.

"Hey, Kirishima, do you have any extra lead, my fucking pencil just—"

Katsuki looked over to where Kirishima sat, and he froze. Because, it wasn't Kirishima. Of course it wasn't, it was Todoroki's red left side, and now Todoroki was blinking at him like he'd just spoke fluent fucking Greek or something.

Blush must have been coloring his cheeks because they felt much too warm. On its own, his hand flew up to press against his chest at what must have been the flowers squirming uncomfortably inside of it. Then, right on cue, came the coughing.

As he coughed, Todoroki handed him tissues. Which, in their two tutoring sessions, had become pretty routine. Katsuki couldn't even be bothered to feel that embarrassed about it when it happened anymore. And, as much as he would deny the notion that he was starting to trust Todoroki... perhaps there was some truth in it.

When the episode passed and Katsuki had managed to gather his breath, he collected the spent tissues that were scattered around him and set his notebook aside, standing to his feet.

"Bakugou, where are you—"

"Thirsty," he croaked out, throwing the wad of tissues into the waste basket before nearly stumbling to the hallway.

He began making his way down the stairs when voices floated up to meet him.

"—Yes, but from your position as homeroom teacher... do you truly find it necessary?"

It was his mom. Katsuki froze in the stairwell. The last time his curiosity had gotten the better on him like this, he'd sorely regretted it. But, he just couldn't help himself. For some reason, it hadn't even crossed his mind that his parents and Mr. Aizawa would have things to talk about while he and Todoroki tutored. And Katsuki wanted to know what those things were.

"Frankly, I don't know enough about the condition," Aizawa began to reply. "In the past, we have had students with Hanahaki receive treatment without transferring classes."

For a brief moment, Katsuki wondered if Todoroki was among those students.

Aizawa continued. "But – as Principle Nezu informed you when your son was first diagnosed – UA's involvement in this sort of treatment is solely on a case-by-case basis. When I last spoke with Recovery Girl, she expressed concern over the severity of his condition, as well as his propensity to jeopardize his own treatment plan. She seemed to be under the impression that these measures are the most rational decision."

"Yes, and our doctor agreed." Dad's voice was much more serious than Katsuki was used to hearing. "We understand that this might be the best solution, and I have no doubt that Mr. Vlad will hold Katsuki to the same standard that you do, Mr. Aizawa."

So they were talking about moving him to Class 1B. He pursed his lips.

"Of course, I feel the same." His mother added. "I'm more worried about how he will take it—"

How he would take it? Try: not fucking well. Katsuki growled, stomping down the stairs, making his presence known. Immediately, the conversation stopped.

He marched into the kitchen, where his parents and Mr. Aizawa were sipping tea. Even as he passed them to grab a glass from the drying rack, he could feel their eyes follow him. He poured the water from the tap and took a few gulps before refilling the glass again. With a glare in his parent's direction, he began stomping his way toward the stairs again.

As he walked up, Aizawa's voice carried to him again, much quieter this time.

"There is still time to consider all of the options. But it is important to remember that his health is priority. The last thing we want to do is make his condition worse..."

Katsuki's steps paused again, for just a moment.

"... So, UA would like to know your decision as soon as possible."

"Of course."

He ducked his head. He'd be damned if his parents thought they were making that decision without him. He finished his way up the stairs and to his room, taking his seat next to Todoroki again. And, he thought.

There was comfort in secrets. In people minding their own goddamn business. And, between him and Todoroki... It was as if, through sheer lack of willingness to have a conversation with each other, they had unwittingly reached some sort of mutual understanding. An agreement of silence.

But at this rate, Katsuki was transferring to Class 1B. And as each urgent minute passed, the itch, the need to know how his classmate knew, about everything...

There was still the question of how they both could have it. Statistically it didn't make sense, but if Todoroki did have Hanahaki, and if he had managed to get his symptoms under control, then Katsuki needed to know how. As soon as possible. And if that meant freeing himself from their unspoken agreement, breaking the silence, then that's just what he had to do.

He picked up his notebook again, pencil scratching furiously against the paper.

He cleared his throat.

"So. What do you take?"

Todorok's writing stopped. "... What?"

Katsuki kept his eyes on his paper. "Whatever the fuck you're taking must be working," he mumbled passively, "and really fucking well."

For a split second, Todoroki said nothing, and Katsuki could just imagine how the guy was staring. It would be a blank, stoic stare, maybe a few confused blinks like he always did when something took him aback.

"...What do you mean?"

It was slow. Oblivious. There was no way that naivety was genuine. Katsuki had seen the fear in Todoroki's eyes in Recovery Girl's room. They had shared fucking looks of solidarity, so whatever innocent façade that bastard was trying to pull had to be feigned. Right?

There was no way Katsuki was wrong about this.

"Come on, don't fucking play dumb with me," he half-snapped. "You have it, don't you?"

"No."

Katsuki's pencil stopped.

It didn't make sense. Katsuki could feel his confusion amplify. He could feel his ears burning, too, from embarrassment. He gritted his jaw, pushing the curiosity deep down inside of him. No reason to ask more questions, he'd made a goddamn fool of himself already.

He had been so sure, too.

Before the silence could stretch on too long, he set back to work again, pencil scribbling away. Maybe that way, they could pretend like this little miscommunication hadn't happened. Todoroki took even longer than Katsuki to return to his schoolwork. For a long while, they didn't speak. Only worked side-by-side, allowing the silence to come between them.

There was a sharp voice from the stairwell – "Boys, it's time for them to head out!" – and Todoroki hopped to his feet, gathering his things before Katsuki could even set his pencil down. As the icy-hot bastard was busy hunched over, filing his supplies neatly into his backpack, Todoroki halted for just a second. It was difficult to ignore, the way his eyes wandered over in Katsuki's general direction, and Katsuki watched a look crossed his face, contemplative, before being replaced by his typical sheltered expression once more.

And it was infuriating. If that bastard had something to say, he might as well come out and say it, for fuck's sake.

"I..." Todoroki sighed. "I don't have it now," he spoke, finally, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. "But. I did."

With those words sprang a sinking feeling deep in Katsuki's gut. This was wrong, it was too much. All of a sudden, he was privy to knowledge that he shouldn't know, and Katsuki didn't know what to do with it, his brain short-circuiting, eyes bugging wide.

A shaky breath passed between his lips, shattering the silence. "You...?"

Todoroki turned away, just a fraction. "Yeah."

With a grunt, he hoisted his backpack over his shoulder, and faced the bedroom door. He stepped forward, once, then twice, hand reaching towards the doorknob. The guy couldn't just walk away like that. He needed answers, dammit.

"What happened?" Katsuki called after him.

"I had surgery."

And with that, Todoroki opened the door, leaving Katsuki gawking after him, too stunned to say more.

~oOo~

"... and all I'm saying is, it was a little rude of you to not see Mr. Aizawa and Todoroki out this evening," his mom's nagging voice called out from the couch.

Katsuki only grunted, sinking lower into his chair. It had only been an hour or two since they had departed, and even still his brain was such a whirl that her words entered in one ear and flew straight out the other. That evening's news served as some well-needed white noise.

He had been right. God fucking dammit, he'd been right, but, he still had so many questions that needed answers, and the cacophony in his head was growing so loud that, for a moment, Katsuki regretted knowing anything at all because it wouldn't stop and he was getting overwhelmed.

But now, he had a new goal ahead of him. Something to focus on. He couldn't get ahead of himself.

Maybe his dad was disturbed by his silence, for he spoke up. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Little numb."

"A... reasonable level of numbness?"

He shrugged. It wasn't that bad this time around, at least not yet. But it made it difficult to focus on things. And, he really needed his wits about him for this, because God knows how they were going to react.

He kept his gaze strained on the television, elbow on the chair's armrest, lightly gnawing on the tip of his pinky between his teeth. "I want the surgery," he dropped casually.

In his periphery, Katsuki could see his parents exchange a look. Already, Katsuki knew he didn't like where this was going.

Dad was the first to speak, shifting uncomfortably where he sat. "Why do you want the surgery?"

"It's permanent, isn't it?"

"That's debated," his mom butted in. "So few people have gotten the surgery, there's not really a way to know how permanent or effective it is."

"It gets rid of the flowers or something though, right?" Katsuki could feel the rumble of frustration deep in his gut. "I have to get back to training."

"We just don't know how your body would react—"

"—But it might work," he hissed through gritted teeth, "yeah? Seems pretty fucking worth it to me."

His resolve needed to stay unwavering, so his parents knew how dead-ass he was about all of this. Because, he really was serious. This flowery bullshit needed to fucking stop.

But, there were a few seconds where his parents said nothing, and as far as he was concerned the ball was in their court, so he said nothing too.

When his dad spoke, his voice cut through the quiet. "We just don't want you risking it—"

"—Well good thing that's my fucking decision to make," Katsuki growled.

His mom let out a short laugh. "Yeah, that's not how that works, kid. We're your parents, and unlike you, we actually listen to the doctor when the shit he's saying is important."

The anger inside of him was bubbling up, uncontrollably, fists squeezing so hard he was trembling all over. And the fact that he could feel so much while on the medicine really showed how different it was this time, but that didn't make it any fucking better. His folks were looking down on him, and it was so infuriating because, dammit, his mom had a point. He hadn't listened, that's why his fucking Hanahaki had returned in the first place. And he had a feeling that, that the more vehemently he protested, the less they would listen.

So he grit his jaw and stayed quiet, hoping he could collect himself before another one of their rebuttals came his way.

Just as he expected, his mother took his silence as an invitation to continue. "I'm sorry, I just can't allow it. Do you even know what the surgery looks like?"

And the answer to that was plain and simple – no, Katsuki didn't know what it looked like. He hadn't listened, didn't bother to look it up, or ask questions. He looked down, a pout on his lips. Some part of him, deep down, felt embarrassment.

Finally, he let out a half-assed shrug, giving the only answer that mattered to him: "Removes the roses."

"Yeahhh, it's a lot more complicated than that, and if you had listened to Doctor Yamakawa, you would know that. So, unless you do your research and find a way to convince us, you'll be changing classes. We've already talked about it with UA. It's being finalized now."

Katsuki blinked, trying to stop the slight sting in his eye. Even the air in his exhale was shaky, his jaw wobbling against his will, and the frustration felt like it was growing because he still couldn't counter any of what she said. He knew she had a point, he knew that, dammit.

But, if he and Kirishima weren't classmates anymore, who knew how that would change their relationship? That unknown... it was terrifying. There were so many questions that needed answers, answers that only Todoroki could provide. And, just this once, Katsuki didn't care if it prompted Todoroki to ask questions of his own. He didn't care about the vulnerability. Didn't fucking care if it left his heart more open than he ever wanted it to be. He couldn't afford to care anymore, not when his decisions were being made for him. Not when he was right on the cusp of losing the closeness he shared with Kirishima. Not when every other option left him feeling even emptier than the one before it.

~oOo~

It had been a week since Todoroki had found Katsuki coughing up in the bathroom. A week since having to be carried to Recovery Girl. A week since he had gone home. And once again, awkwardness had settled thickly between him and Todoroki as they sat down for their third tutoring session.

Even though not much had been said between the two of them, about that, everything still seemed a little clearer. But with the new knowledge that Katsuki wasn't alone, that he could find something to relate to in this half-n-half bastard of all people, was... not comforting, per se, but whatever the feeling was, certainly wasn't far from that.

But, with that new knowledge, and with Katsuki's mission in the forefront of his mind, he couldn't stop himself from watching Todoroki, out of the corner of his eye. And every time, he couldn't help but think about what he knew. About what he wanted to know.

That had been going on for about an hour and a half, and they had just started attempting to work on their Hero History essays when Todoroki's pencil suddenly froze. Katsuki could see how Todoroki's eyes were peering from their corners at him.

The guy closed his book and sighed. "If you're gonna ask questions, just get it over with."

Katsuki averted his gaze. Seemed as though he had been caught staring. "I just want to know more."

"More about what?"

"Don't play fucking dumb with me now," he let out a groan. "You said you had it, past tense."

"I told you. I had it, and then I got the surgery. What more is there to know?"

"Maybe, when?" Katsuki clicked his pencil for more lead. "It's not like we're very old."

Todoroki shrugged. "A couple months ago. I didn't have it for long, because, well..."

Right. "The surgery," Katsuki finished for him.

The guy nodded. He looked down. There was something on his face, something akin to misery, but he covered it quickly.

"When did it start?" Katsuki tried again. He still needed to know more about how this whole situation worked out, after all. And, knowing what he knew about Todoroki, the guy had a tendency to overshare when put in a position to.

Sure enough, it was like Todoroki couldn't resist. Maybe he just wanted to be understood.

"It was toward the end of the internships," he began. "First time it happened, I was out patrolling with my dear old dad."

For a moment, the bitterness in his voice threw Katsuki for a loop. Usually, the guy was so fucking guarded, so to hear his words dripping with hatred like that just felt wrong. But when he thought back to the conversation he had overheard during the sports festival... Hell, Katsuki couldn't blame the guy for his old resentments. Endeavor was a piece of shit.

But... there was something else there now. This was not old resentment. The wound that the hatred was dripping from was fresh. And it certainly did nothing to satiate Katsuki's curiosity.

"What happened then?" He asked.

"Apparently, the condition isn't uncommon among heroes, so Dad knew what it was. He had me rushed off to a hospital for immediate surgery. It's not like I got affected for very long, but... that gross feeling, coughing stuff up like a hairball. I'll never forget it."

Katsuki let out a long groan. "Don't fucking remind me. See, that's what I want to do, surgery. Because all of this is complete bullshit and I've been dealing with it for fucking weeks. Can you imagine? There's no end to it. Now, if I could just, not have to worry about coughing up fucking roses every day of my life, that would be fucking great. Wouldn't have to miss classes, I could still train just like you do. But my shitty parents won't even listen to me when I bring it up."

"I'm telling you," Todoroki's words were clipped, stern; "you don't want the surgery."

Taken aback, Katsuki looked up to him. "And why the hell not? Seems to be working fucking great for you."

"It's just not some grand fix to the problem, okay? Don't treat it like that"

Katsuki set down his pencil and crossed his arms. "Well. You can go to class and train and all the shit that I can't do anymore, so excuse me if I find that really fucking appealing."

"And I'm telling you," his voice rose, "if you knew what you were talking about at all, then you wouldn't."

When their eyes met, the look in Todoroki's gaze was intense, colored with what could only be described as... grief. It drew Katsuki in against his will, making him watch as Todoroki continued with his piercing gaze.

"It requires open heart and lung surgery," he enunciated every single syllable. "The procedure is dangerous, and exhausting, and it's only temporary. If the feelings come back, it doesn't end. The flowers can grow back, it might never end, and then you have to go back and get the surgery all over again. And again. And again, and each time you hope and you wish and you pray that this time, the flowers will finally give up for good."

As Katsuki tore his eyes away, he couldn't help but laugh bitterly. He was starting to understand what was going on here. "You trying to talk me out of it?"

"Listen to me," Todoroki urged, the passion in his voice reaching levels far beyond anything Katsuki could have expected. "Even with Recovery Girl's quirk, healing takes days. Each time, her quirk left me so fatigued that she swore she would never do it again. If it comes back, I have to recover without her. She's not going to make an exception for you."

"You're acting like Recovery Girl is the only person with a healing quirk. Newsflash, she isn't, dumbass," Katsuki hissed, frustration crawling under his skin. "There'll be another way. You just wanna stay ahead of me, don't you?"

Todoroki's fists clenched dangerously, his knuckles turning white. "Get your head out of your ass. Idiot. You think I wanted it? You think I'd willingly put myself through that?" The tone in his voice, it was... dangerous, like something within him had snapped. When he spoke again, it shook with actual anger. "My father forces me to get the surgery. The first time, he didn't even tell me what was going on, just drove me, dropped me off, didn't say a word except to the nurses, it was over before I even knew what was wrong with me, before I even knew who—"

Suddenly, as if only now able to regain control of his runaway mouth, Todoroki cut himself off. His breaths were coming out short from his outburst, and for a moment, he just breathed. Then, he straightened his back, shook his head as if to clear it. With a swallow, he looked back to his textbook, as if that was the end of that.

Katsuki just stared at him, aghast.

"You don't know who it is."

It wasn't a question.

Todoroki's shoulders tensed even more than they already were. "Get back to work," he said.

"No, how the fuck do you not know who it is?"

Todoroki screwed his eyes shut, lips pursed into a line, like he was in actual pain, and for a moment Katsuki wasn't even sure he would be able to respond.

"It's the surgery," Todoroki's voice finally broke out, like he was being stretched so thin that he could snap at any moment, "it dampens feelings. And I've never been good at those anyways. If I so much as cough, he rushes to the hospital, and then I wake up in an operating room and I try, I try as hard as I can to feel again so I can know, and I just... can't." He caught his breath with a steady inhale, then an exhale, face pinched with all the ache in the world. "Every day I'm haunted by the possibility of having to live the rest of my life knowing that I was in love but never knowing who."

The silence felt alive. It rushed up Katsuki's spine like chills, blanketing them.

Then, with a tilt of his head, eyebrows scrunched together, Katsuki spoke. "Is... that why you're usually so....?"

"Why I'm so what?"

Katsuki only stared at him. "... Blank?"

Todoroki blinked. "Surgery only affects the feeling of love. Other emotions stay the same."

"Right."

So, he really was just Like That.

And Todoroki, he actually let out a hum, and it almost sounded amused in a cynical sort of way. "Maybe I'm projecting on to you," he spoke, his words much more composed. Much more like his typical self. "...but you don't want the surgery. It's hell. Besides, you're lucky. Despite what you think, you have a chance, which is more than I will ever have. Don't throw it away."

Katsuki didn't believe that, couldn't believe that, and it pissed him off that Todoroki could possibly call him lucky. But some part of him couldn't help the pity that was growing inside of him, the pity that told him to keep his mouth shut before he made said something he would regret. He tried once again to use his schoolwork as a distraction. Todoroki seemed to take the hint, for he followed suit.

"Well it doesn't matter anyways," Katsuki finally mumbled, passively. "I'm transferring classes next week."

There was a sharp inhale beside him. "...What?"

So Aizawa hadn't said anything yet.

"Yeah. I'm moving to Class 1B."

He could feel the eyes upon him. He shifted uncomfortably, writing his next answer on the worksheet.

Todoroki tapped his pencil against his paper a few times. "Who's gonna switch places with you?"

"No idea."

"Well that... sucks."

"You don't fucking say."

"Are you okay?"

Was that... concern?

Katsuki lifted and dropped his shoulders limply. "It's whatever."

"He's worried about you," Todoroki swallowed, turning to his homework once again. "Keeps asking me about you're doing."

Katsuki froze. For a moment, there was pressure in his chest, a tickling in his throat. He let out a deep cough, trying his best to keep any petals at bay.

Todoroki continued. "You still have feelings for him, don't you?"

That time, the petals really did come, just a few, and Katsuki gasped on them, coughing them out until they finally stopped. Like it was routine, Todoroki gave him the tissue box without even looking up from his paper.

"Fucking... Goddamn it, Todoroki, the medicine doesn't work that well. That's why I'm fucking switching classes in the first place. Fuck."

"Sorry."

"You did that on purpose didn't you? You fucker."

"Swear I didn't."

"Whatever," Katsuki tched.

Once again, he aimed the wad of used tissues to the trashcan. It bounced off the wall before landing squarely in the center. Score.

"Why does he bother with worrying about me anyways?" He muttered. "'S not his business."

"He's your best friend."

"Don't go throwing around labels for us, fucker."

"Okay."

But, that wasn't entirely it, and Katsuki knew it. Eventually, he let out a weak little sigh. His voice was impossibly small. "...You're right, though. He is. And, I..." He closed his eyes. "I can't lose that. And, with transferring classes, that's what will happen."

"Well, with you wanting the surgery, it sounds to me like you were trying to give up. Take the easy way out, even if it causes more problems than good."

Katsuki froze. "'Easy way out'?"

"Well, it's easy, isn't it? Not wanting to feel something when it hurts. But hurting is part of life. So live with it."

Katsuki looked away, a grunt of warning catching in his throat. "I don't care about how I feel," he mumbled, some air of finality settling into his voice, "not if losing him is the result."

The room fell silent, for just a moment, and it was heavy. It rested like a weight on top of them, and Katsuki needed something to distract from it because it was too much. He opened his textbook again, setting to work.

"You still go to UA, don't you? So what does it matter if you switch classes? You'll still see him. And, he cares about you. You have a chance, so don't take the easy way out."

At those words, Katsuki couldn't help but look up, catching Todoroki's eyes, ones that dared to stare past his façade, right into his core. And in that moment, Katsuki found himself staring past Todoroki's façade, too, finding in him more than he ever wanted to see.

Todoroki spoke.

"Don't throw it away."

~oOo~

Katsuki wanted to feel angry at Todoroki. Who did this guy think he was, giving him fucking advice or some shit? As far as he was concerned, it was unsolicited and fucking out of line.

But something about that simple sentence hit him. Maybe it was the commanding tone that made the words ring around in his ears even seconds after they were spoken. Maybe it was the overwhelming regret that he found hidden deep in Todoroki's features. Whatever it was, it hit him hard.

The surgery, an easy way out? He had just been thinking of it as his only reasonable option, not some fucking easy way out. But as he tried to turn back to his studies, something about what Todoroki said, starting to blast holes into all of that.

It gave him hope. If the medicine worked even a fraction of a bit, then moving classes was only the end of their friendship if he allowed it to be. And the feelings that he still had, the ones that Todoroki saw as a blessing.... did he really have a chance to turn that into something more? With Hanahaki, was that even a possibility?

Katsuki wasn't sure what to believe anymore. But, for the first time in a long time, he knew what had to be done.

That night, Dad closed the front door behind their guests as they left. "Just one more of those to go," he said. "Then you'll be back at UA."

"Surprised you guys and Aizawa haven't run out of things to talk about," Katsuki grumbled as he trudged his way to the living room. His parents followed close behind.

"It's Mr. Aizawa."

"Yeah, yeah."

His dad had a habit of reminding him about stuff like that, and it usually got on his fucking nerves. But tonight, Katsuki was calm. As if he had resigned himself to his fate. So, he plopped down on the couch without a word, eyes unfocused ahead of him.

His mom watched him, her scrutinizing gaze vigilant, as if watching for is every movement and breath. After a second, she plopped down next to him and sighed. "Okay kiddo, what's wrong?"

"I did my research," he piped up.

"Oh, did you now?" His mom leaned back, crossing her arms. "And what did you find?"

"Regardless of what I found, you shouldn't have made that sort of decisions without me."

"Katsuki—"

"Let me speak."

It was demanding, but not cruel. Just enough to get his parents to shut up and actually listen to him for once.

As soon as he was sure he had their attention, Katsuki continued. "Does UA know it's him?"

The look that his parents exchanged was one of surprise. They said nothing, and with that silence came the reminder of what he most feared. Maybe, he was too late. It was like something icy was grabbing his heart, pulling it downwards, making it sink further in his chest. He breathed, trying to calm the way stomach twisting in knots in a way that had nothing to do with the roses.

He had to continue, before their silence could consume him whole.

"Because I'll concede to changing classes," he said simply, with a casual shrug. "No fights, no arguments – on one condition. Kirishima is... He's the only person I've ever been able to get along with. My only friend, the only person who likes me how I am. I can't lose that."

The way his words were forming, revealing all of his feelings without his consent, laying them out in the open, plain as day for his parents to see... it was all too much, it wasn't supposed to go like this.

"Listen," he tried again, an even stronger edge of desperation creeping into his tone, "I'm willing to deal with the occasional petals. And if I can't train at all like that, then I'll even to go back to the shittier medicine. Wait for my body to get used to it. But if they know it's him, they might not let me see him anymore."

He was trembling, but no matter how much he fought against it, he couldn't stop it. He hated this, he hated this so much.

"So please," he breathed, dreading the answer that may come, "Please tell me they don't know."

When he was finished, his parents just looked at him.

Finally, his mom reached out to rub his back. Her words were rushed. Relieved. "We haven't said anything more than that it's a classmate."

"And you won't?"

"We promise." His dad placed a hand on his shoulder, another anchor for him to focus on. "We figured that was your business."

He screwed his eyes shut. It felt like he was signing a part of his life away. But now he realized – this was the best he could do for now.

So, much to his parents relief, he nodded.

"Okay. Whatever, then it's settled. I concede."

~oOo~

Tomorrow was the big day. Bakugou Katsuki's grand return to UA.

Katsuki knew he should have felt more excited than he did. With each day, something inside of him should have been itching away, biting at the bit to return to classes and training. But instead, he had just been sleeping a lot, the countdown to his return bringing about a stronger and stronger sense of... indifference.

He honestly couldn't tell if that was the new medicine's doing or not.

Downstairs, he could hear the doorbell ring. He flipped to his side, staring at the wall, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep.

"He's just up in his room," he heard his mom say.

"Dinner's almost done," he heard his father say.

Todoroki's footsteps up the stairs felt slower than normal, each one like another countdown, just one more step closer to UA. To Class 1-B.

When his door creaked open, Katsuki let out a groan. "Fucking took you long enough, icy-hot," he pushed himself to sitting, pivoting to swing his legs over the side of the bed, "sounded like you were marching in a funeral procession or someth—"

Katsuki's breath caught in his throat. He stared.

Kirishima was standing in his doorway.

His expression was kind. Pained. "Hey, man," he tried to smile.

And Katsuki's first thought was that this was all some sick prank. Then, it was that whoever was involved would pay for trying to fix his love-life. Probably his mother. The heart in his chest pounded, so quickly, stomach fluttering wildly. The roses, they squirmed, wanting nothing more than to escape, their sickening aroma already filling his airways. It took all of his will to hold them down. His struggle against them felt like it lasted eons as time slowed to a crawl, but finally, for the first time, they released their hold and Katsuki found that he could breathe again.

He blinked, snapping out of it.

"Why the fuck are you here?"

"Well," Kirishima chuckled nervously, hand rubbing the back of his neck, "I figured, you've tutored me enough times, it's about time I returned the favor, so here I am!" He glanced around the room. "May I come in?"

And that was one of the worst ideas Katsuki had ever heard in his life. Of course it was, there was no way.

'Don't throw it away.'

Todoroki's words rang around in his head, and he couldn't shake them no matter how hard he tried. Kirishima was there. An opportunity, to prove to himself that he could do this. That, in spite of everything, he could still be Kirishima's friend.

He nodded.

"Thanks!" Kirishima beamed, and it looked like something had been lifted off of his shoulders. He trotted over to the bedside and in an instant, set his backpack down and took a seat on the floor, back against the bed, like they had done so many times before.

Katsuki hesitated. He couldn't help it, this wasn't how the day was supposed to go, and he had every right to believe that it would now end in disaster. But, the petals were unusually quiet. No disaster in sight. Maybe... maybe that was the hope that Todoroki had given him? So he gave in, quickly sliding down to take the space next to Kirishima.

"Alright-y, let's begin!" Kirishima dug around in his backpack, tongue sticking out like a complete dork. "Hmm, what to do first..." he pulled out a notebook, "Aha! Algebra!"

Okay, maybe this actually would end in disaster after all. Kirishima sucked at math.

Well, maybe the guy had gotten better, Katsuki wasn't gonna give up on him just yet. He grabbed his own notebook, and the two of them quickly set to work.

And yup. Kirishima still sucked at math.

Seriously, Katsuki was the one who hadn't been in class for almost a week and a half, yet by the time his mother knocked on the door with their dinner in hand, somehow he had ended up tutoring Kirishima. But with the scent of curry fresh in their noses, the two put their work aside.

"Thank you for the food Mrs. Bakugou," Kirishima grinned again, grabbing the plate from her outstretched hand, "It smells delicious."

"You are too kind, Kirishima," her voice dripped with sweetness. "And for you, Katsuki," she handed the plate down.

Katsuki glared at her. He didn't grab the plate.

She shook it a little. Take it.

With a huff – so she'd know that he wasn't happy about it – he took the food.

"No, no, don't get the wrong idea, young man," Mom raised her eyebrows, motioning quickly to the oblivious Kirishima. "This wasn't my doing. ...You okay, though?"

He didn't have the patience for her sass today, so he muttered a sour "Just leave."

"Alright. You two work hard!" She said over her shoulder before leaving and closing the door behind her.

Kirishima turned to him, cheeks full of rice like a chipmunk. "What was that about?"

Katsuki grabbed his chopsticks. "Forget about it," he grumbled before stuffing his face.

Just like that, Kirishima shrugged, any concern of his immediately replaced with thoughts of food. The two quickly finished their meal and returned to Algebra.

And everything Kirishima did, from his frustrated little muttering to his shouts of joy, just served as a reminder of just how much Katsuki loved this... and of just how much he was going to miss it when they were in different classes. Soon, they began with the next subject that Kirishima happened to pull out of his backpack – English. Which, the guy wasn't actually that bad with. They worked on the assignment together, a short paragraph using some conditional sentences and at least six prepositions. Then, into their second hour, Classical Japanese. Ten years of school so far, and they had somehow still not read enough Haikus, it would seem.

They talked about Class 1-A, too. Rather, Kirishima talked, and talked and talked and talked, and Katsuki pretended not to listen. That wasn't the sort of stuff that Todoroki bothered mentioning, not that he would have cared if the guy had. But now, it was Kirishima talking to him, gossiping like any other day. On one hand, Katsuki could pretend like everything was normal. But on the other hand, hearing about the student's lives served as a painful reminder – he wouldn't be a part of that class again. So today, Katsuki listened.

And all too quickly, they approached the end of their time together. As the seconds ticked away, Katsuki couldn't shake the bittersweet flavor from his mouth. Their last time studying together as classmates was almost at an end.

And, the way Kirishima was acting, frowning when he thought Katsuki wasn't looking at him, nearly panicking when he saw the time on his phone... it was almost as if he knew that this was it, too. Maybe Mr. Aizawa had finally gotten around to telling the class.

Their friendship would continue, hopefully. It didn't have to end today. But a part of him still wanted to hope. A part of him wanted to believe that maybe something more would come of it. Even now, it was starting to hurt. Maybe, it was that hope that needed to die, to keep their friendship alive.

They had reached a lull in the conversation, each hoping to finish up the last of their Chemistry equation before time was up, when Kirishima took a deep breath.

"Hey, Bakugou?"

The way he said it made Katsuki's stomach do flip-flops. He turned to where Kirishima sat next to him. He was reminded of all the times they had been together, side by side, and it hurt.

"Yes?"

"Today's been really nice." Kirishima smiled, but something wasn't really right about it. "It's really great to see you again and I feel like you're happy to see me too, but I just, want to make sure. We're..." he trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. "We're okay, right? Everything's cool between us?"

Katsuki stared ahead. There was no way this fucking conversation was happening. Not now. "Why wouldn't it be?" he tried passively.

"Well it's like... when I last saw you, back then, when we were sparring, and then, you know..." Kirishima stumbled over his words, sentences not fully forming, "... and I haven't heard from you since, not even a text, or anything, and we're..." he shrugged limply. Lifelessly. "We are friends, right?"

...This entire time, Kirishima had been working about that?

Before his thumping heart could drown out his thoughts, Katsuki gave a curt nod. "Of course. Friends." His mouth was dry, his words like molasses. He swallowed the lump that had settled in his throat, feeling his stomach twist and churn. "Just friends."

"Just friends..." Kirishima agreed.

Katsuki looked down, fighting down the petals with all of his might. Leaving his voice behind, his mouth formed the words again, a reminder to himself:

"Just friends."

He closed his eyes.

There was a cough. Then another. And more and more, gravely and scratchy and painful-sounding, until there was, fluttering to the ground, a single damp rose petal.

But it was not Katsuki's.