I'd like to take a moment to thank Samantha, who originally requested this work on Patreon over a year ago! It's one of my favorite ones-shots I've ever done as commission and I thought it was finally time to release it into the wild! I hope you all enjoy!

Third person pov

Katsuki Bakugo is exactly the type of person Hitoshi grew up hating.

He's cocky, arrogant, and was born with a quirk that put his dream right in his eager, waiting hands. He came up allowed to be loud and narcissistic, thinking he's better than everyone else because that's what he was told, and that's what society deemed him. All because he got something flashier than most, something "destined" to be great. People looked at him and they already knew what he was going to be without Bakugo ever having to try.

Hitoshi, in contrast, has always been labelled a villain. He likely always will be. It hurts less now than it used to. The taunt gets further and further away with every day that passes, buried under training and resolve that hardens like tree sap into amber, wrapped around his heart and set to preserve its thrum no matter what's thrown his way.

Hitoshi was dealt a poor hand and he's had to play with it his whole life. Every step he's taken has been met with resistance. It's a near constant fight, one that leaves Hitoshi winded and questioning whether or not it's worth it at times. Some people come into this world burning stars. Others have to run fast and hard until they're hot enough to combust into one.

Bakugo's entrance into UA's hero course was practically guaranteed, the odds tilted ever in his favor. The physical portion of the entrance exam was designed for people like him. His explosions are destructive and brash, perfect against the robots Hitoshi stood no chance against. He's still somewhat bitter about it. Hitoshi thinks he always will be on some level.

However, he's not a little kid anymore. Things are different now. He's worked hard and he's fought for a place amongst what the world considered to be the upcoming elites, and he got in. It feels well earned. Months of blood, sweat, and more tears than he'd like to admit— and he's here. He's in Class 1-A, his spot secured tightly in his grasp.

It was easier to hate the flashy hero course students when he wasn't living and learning amongst them. Despite insisting he isn't here to make friends, that doesn't stop them from trying, and Hitoshi unfortunately doesn't have a function that lets him turn his own ears off. He learns about them whether he likes it or not.

They're not all that bad. They all have their own stories and their own hardships. He can't bring himself to spite them the same way he used to so intently. They all fought to be here too. They didn't choose to be born with these quirks, but they were and they're choosing to use them to save and protect. Even with numerous villain attacks and attempts on their lives, they're all still here, and they're all still standing.

Katsuki Bakugo seems like the only odd link. Hitoshi had watched him progress the same way everyone else did. It was hard not to as much attention as he drew. He was bright, with a personality that demanded all eyes be on him. He was aggressive to a fault, mean and with a temper worse than any Hitoshi had ever seen. Despite his quirk, he somehow seemed to fit in least in the hero course compared to all his peers.

Hitoshi looked at him and had no idea why he was here in 1-A. Why he wanted to be a hero, what drove him into this career path. Hitoshi had thought it might be for the fame, but he'd seen firsthand that the guy barely put up with the press. It seemed like he hardly cared what anyone thought about him. He marched to the beat of his own drum, his interests of no business to anyone else.

In another life, maybe Hitoshi wouldn't have been curious about the guy at all. Would've shrugged him off as just another asshole with a too big head and a too powerful quirk, someone who thought they were all that and a piece of fucking cake. Something about Katsuki didn't quite fit into that mold, though. Hitoshi just wasn't sure what that something was.

Maybe it was because of the Sports Festival. The award ceremony Bakugo had been forced into, his hands chained and his words muffled by a thick metal muzzle he'd strained and strained against. There had been fiery, potent rage there. His fury hadn't been quite enough to hide the fear that lurked beneath. Hitoshi was intimately acquainted with that brand of terror. It wasn't the type he'd ever seen on anyone aside from himself, and maybe that's why Bakugo drew his eye.

Hitoshi hadn't expected to relate to him. He shouldn't have at all, but it was hard not to when the public had turned so fast. The League of Villain's had taken Bakugo, snatched him from summer training camp and whisked him away to their hideout in an attempt to recruit him. They thought Bakugo would be a good villain, and they made as such clear. And because they thought it... well, everyone else did too.

It was funny how fast society could turn. The drop of the hat and suddenly the opinion was against you, a furious tide capable of ripping you under and drowning you. It was clear by Bakugo's frustration that this was the first time the world had been against him like this. If Hitoshi were a little worse of a person, he might say the kid deserved the wake up call. Instead, all he could feel was bitter sympathy.

So, Katsuki Bakugo is complicated, weird, and not exactly what Hitoshi thinks he's supposed to be. Which makes sense-- people are complex and unique, no two the same. Stereotypes have always been Hitoshi's enemy, so trying to jam others into them is pretty hypocritical of him to begin with. That's not to say he ever planned on trying to seek Bakugo out, nor did he plan on getting to know him. After all, he wasn't here to make friends. He was here to learn, train, and graduate.

That being said, he can't say he expected Bakugo to stumble his way down into the kitchen at two in the morning. But some things can't be predicted. They just happen, and sometimes they can change everything.

Hitoshi has trouble sleeping. Always has. No matter what he tries, his insomnia persists and leaves him feeling sluggish and regularly exhausted. He's grown used to it. He lives the same as anyone else, perhaps just a little more prone to headaches than most, as well as spontaneous naps when his brain allows it. Seeing as Bakugo goes to bed every night between the hours of eight and nine PM just so he can get up and work out at ass o'clock in the morning, Hitoshi was properly blindsided by his sudden appearance.

The guy looked, in a word, terrible. It was obvious he'd been crying. A nightmare if Hitoshi had to guess, which wasn't surprising considering all the bullshit he'd been through since the schoolyear started. The blonde's cheeks were still sticky from the remnants of tears, the red puffiness of his eyes making the bags underneath them all the more prominent.

He froze when he saw Hitoshi sitting at the kitchen's island bar, nursing a cup of warm tea. Hitoshi looked up from his phone with a bland expression upon his entrance, his face giving nothing about how he may or may not feel away. Bakugo looked a bit like a cornered, distrustful stray under his apathetic gaze.

He eyed Hitoshi with sharp wariness, hands twitching like he wanted to reach up and wipe at his face some more but didn't want to risk drawing attention to it, lest Hitoshi notice something he might not have otherwise. As though his tears weren't already obvious. It was odd to see him crying-- he just didn't seem like the type. Hitoshi guessed even spawns of the actual devil could feel hard things too.

Hitoshi could point it out. Hell, if he were one of the more smiley members of their god forsaken class he may even ask if he was okay. But Hitoshi's not. He's tired, he'd jaded, and he just wants to drink his tea in peace and read his gay Harry Potter slow burn fanfiction in peace. Thank you very much.

So Hitoshi simply blinks and turns back to his phone. They're not friends. They don't even know one another. The small handful of times Bakugo has addressed him it's been to call him a Turnip or insult him in some form or fashion. What does Hitoshi care if the guy's having nightmares and crying over them, or having trouble sleeping? If he wants a gold star he can get in line.

"More tea in the pot." Is all Hitoshi says, and he sounds just as exhausted as he feels. "All the cups are in the dishwashers for some reason."

He's met with silence. Hitoshi ignores it, yawning. He's pretty sure Draco and Harry are going to finally kiss forty-four chapters in and he's not letting some ass wipe ruin that for him. He's invested time into this. He deserves some gratification for his efforts.

Bakugo is still for several more moments, and Hitoshi can feel eyes boring into him before the blonde seemingly grunts and decides that sure, he'll have some tea. He stomps over to the dishwasher, opening it and yanking the top rack out so aggressively it causes all the dishes inside to rattle. Hitoshi takes another sip of his own chamomile as Bakugo harshly slams a mug down on the countertop. He's surprised it doesn't shatter on impact.

Bakugo pours his tea. Hitoshi has to temporarily close his browser when Harry and Draco do kiss in order to control himself, staring blankly at his home screen instead and counting his own breaths to keep from doing something stupid like giggling. He blinks when a pair of hands slam down onto the bar across from him, looking up to meet agitated red eyes. Bakugo snarls at him like a wild animal of some kind. Hitoshi isn't impressed.

"Tell anyone about this and you're fucking dead." The blonde hisses out with a scratchy throat, glaring at Hitoshi like the purple haired teen has done something to offend him personally. Hitoshi raises a brow as the blonde turns on his heel and stomps back for the stairs, swiping his mug to take with him as he goes. He turns to give Hitoshi one last look before he goes. "Dead, Turnip Fucker."

Hitoshi gives a mock salute, waits, and goes back to his fanfiction with a stupid grin stretching across his face, finally alone again. He doesn't think about Bakugo again for the whole night.

~~~~~

It's far from the last time Bakugo wanders down. In fact, he's back again a mere two days later, slouching in like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. He looks less taken off guard by Hitoshi's presence this time. Instead he just scowls balefully, stomping his way over to where the tea has already been made, kept warm by the electric kettle. This time he doesn't bother threatening him. Apparently Hitoshi keeping his mouth shut the first time is enough for him.

He comes to the kitchen frequently enough that Hitoshi is surprised he hasn't seen him before, because surely this can't be new. He always scowls at Hitoshi, though his glowers vary in strength depending on how tired he is. Some nights he seems too beat to fully muster it up, the bags under his eyes prominent enough that Hitoshi knows he must be covering them with concealer during the day, because there's no way someone wouldn't have brought them up by now otherwise.

Some days it's obvious he's been crying, and some days his eyes are dry. Some days he seems morose and subdued. Others he seems so furious it's a miracle he doesn't blow up one of the kitchen appliances. Hitoshi mostly ignores him. Sometimes if they accidentally make awkward eye contact he'll nod for lack of any other way to respond.

Things don't change until one AM on a rainy Tuesday. Hitoshi's been up since everyone else went to bed, sitting and scrolling through his phone as he always does when sleep evades him. He hears Bakugo's heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and does his best to look especially engrossed in what he's reading, as he always does when he knows the explosive blonde is coming.

The door to the stairwell slams open hard enough that Hitoshi's surprised the doorknob doesn't go through the wall when it hits it. Bakugo stills, which is almost enough to make the purple-haired teen look up. Bakugo has gotten adjusted to him so much so that he hardly skips a beat upon seeing him. Hitoshi takes a sip of his tea and likes yet another cat post on his Instagram feed, which is populated heavily with them.

There's a sniffle. Hitoshi freezes, eyes slowly ticking up and over to where the blonde is standing in the doorway, his hands curled into painfully tight fists at his sides. He looks pissed, his teeth clenched hard enough that it must hurt. What's different about it now is that he's actually still crying.

Seeing him having cried is a lot different than seeing him actively cry. It's a bit of a novel experience, though Hitoshi obviously isn't going to say that out loud. He values his life and doubts he'd make it out of the encounter alive. Iida would find his cold, dead body on his way out for his morning run and that would be that.

"G-God fucking dammit." Bakugo hisses out. Hitoshi stares, unsure of what to do. His wet cheeks reflected vaguely, his entire form backlit by the brightened stairwell behind him. Hitoshi watches awkwardly as the blonde storms over to where the kettle is waiting. "Why the fuck are you always up? Every fucking night I come down here you're just sitting here. Your dorm room not good enough for you, you overgrown Turnip f-fuck?"

The stutter and hiccupping sort of ruins the effect of his words, which warble precariously, though he still sounds utterly furious. Hitoshi opens his mouth. Pauses. Closes it again, unable to find words to respond to that. He observes the way Bakugo's shoulders hunch, the way he curls into himself defensively. Like a porcupine rolling into a ball, sharp, barbed quills poised to pierce anyone who dared try and touch.

Asking if he was okay would probably get his face blown off, right? Hitoshi should act... completely normal. Like nothing is wrong. Or maybe he should just stop hanging out in the kitchen at all. It wouldn't be hard not to. He'd miss the easy tea and snack access, but he supposes he could always wander his way into the lounge area of the dorm as well and still be close enough. Since Bakugo was clearly upset about their constant crossing of paths.

Bakugo was an angry crier. His expression wasn't open or vulnerable, nor was it heartbroken. It was purely pissed, just daring Hitoshi to bring it up. He looked like he always did when he was mad. The only difference was that his eyes were leaking tears. It was... odd. How angry he was over it. Like he hated himself for showing such weakness in the first place but had no idea how to make it stop.

"Can't sleep. Insomnia." Hitoshi responded simply, shrugging. Bakugo grumbled something too quiet to hear, slamming a mug down onto the counter top. His tears continued to fall despite his shuttered, hard expression.

"Don't see why the fuck you have to be down here to be a-awake." Bakugo hiccupped again which only seemed to make him angrier. He slammed the cabinet door with a deafening bang. His breathing was even despite his continued tears. "You practically fucking live here. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Than read fanfiction and scroll through cat pictures on Instagram?" Hitoshi rose a brow, turning his phone to face him. Bakugo squinted blearily at the screen. It was a cat in a pumpkin hat sitting in a basket of fall leaves. "Of course not."

Bakugo, to his credit, didn't blow his phone up. He did storm back up the stairs though.

~~~~

Bakugo doesn't come down crying again, but he does still come for the tea. Hitoshi makes a mean pot of the stuff, having honed his craft over the course of many sleepless nights. They don't normally talk. Sometimes Bakugo will snap at him, accuse him of living in the kitchen, insult him. The usual. Hitoshi's heard far worse, so it rolls off him like water off a duck's back.

It's a little past three in the morning when the blonde comes down this time. He looks angry. He always looks angry, but this time it seems... more somehow. Hitoshi shoots a few glances at him when he's sure his explosive classmate isn't looking. His expression is twisted into something ugly, his brows drawn and his lips set into a heavy scowl. He looked older with his face all scrunched up like that.

Instead of going for the teapot, he bypassed it entirely and opened one of the lower cabinets. Hitoshi half watched him start pulling metal bowls out, half watched cat videos on his phone. He didn't move. Bakugo didn't acknowledge his existence, pulling things out of drawers and other nooks and crannies Hitoshi had never bothered to explore before. He couldn't even make chicken nuggets in the oven without burning them. The microwave was the extent of his cooking knowledge.

Bakugo, though, he knew what he was doing. Hitoshi watched curiously as his angry expression slowly melted away and made way for something more... focused. It was as relaxed as Hitoshi had ever seen him. He looked almost normal, and Hitoshi was startled to see that he actually looked quite pretty when he didn't look like someone had just pissed in his cereal.

Sure, most of the boys in 1-A were attractive. The girls too. Hitoshi had just never thought of it in regards to Bakugo before. Objectively, Hitoshi could admit that he he was well built, with nice hair and sharp eyes, and a squared jaw. He had a perfect nose and flawless skin most would die to have. He looked almost soft when he didn't have everything clenched. Hitoshi had just never noticed before. Bakugo's anger was so fierce and hot it shielded all his positive features, which were already few and far between.

Bakugo furiously baked, though he was meticulous with it. He sifted the flour, gradually mixing things in like the instructions said to instead of just throwing them all in at once. Hitoshi gave up pretense of looking at his phone and instead amused himself watching his classmate move around the kitchen, cleaning up his mess whilst the cookies he was making baked in the oven.

Hitoshi had no idea how he'd kept so clean. There was hardly a spot of flour on him, and he hadn't even used an apron. If he asked he'd probably just be told to shut up, or that it was a basic talent, and it wasn't Bakugo's fault that Hitoshi was a fucking moron. Ugh, since when had he gotten to know him well enough to call that? He guessed you could be just mildly acquainted with Bakugo Katsuki and predict what he was going to say, though. He didn't treat his friends all that differently than he treated anyone else.

Hitoshi pursed his lips a bit, eyeing him as he pulled the cookies out of the oven. He had amazing arms. Probably because of his quirk. Where Bakugo had packed on muscle, Hitoshi had stayed lithe and skinny, more about acrobatics, flexibility and speed than durability. He was taller than Bakugo too, closer to Mr. Aizawa's height. Bakugo was built like a juggernaut.

"The fuck are you looking at?" Bakugo bit out, staring at Hitoshi with those burning eyes of his. Hitoshi raised a brow at his defensive tone, propping his chin up on his hand tiredly.

"Your biceps. They're nice." He admitted, his judgement clearly impaired by lack of sleep. Bakugo froze, staring at him with narrowed eyes. Hitoshi's gaze dropped to the cookies, the smell causing his stomach to rumble eagerly. "Are you going to share those?"

Bakugo dropped the hot pan right in front of him harshly. Hitoshi blinked down at it as it clattered, and when he looked up, Bakugo was already disappearing back up the stairwell. He shrugged, leaning back so he could wait for the baked goods to cool off. More for him, then.

~~~~

The first time Bakugo sits down at the bar instead of going upstairs Hitoshi has to resist the urge to turn in his stool and squint at him.

Sometimes he bakes and drops the pan in front of Hitoshi after he's done, presumably cooking out of stress rather than an actual desire to fuck up his strict diet with desserts. Sometimes he just gets tea and vanishes. Other times he guzzles a cup of ice water and stands leaned against the counter for a moment, occasionally making an effort to insult Hitoshi or give unsolicited comments about his eyebags as though his aren't just as bad.

He just never sits down. Now that he is sat at the other end of the bar, Hitoshi can see that he's got the essay they have due for their Media and Heroics class due. It had just been assigned that day, but Bakugo did seem like the type to get all his work done as soon as humanly possible. With a topic like the one they'd been given, maybe it made sense.

The essay was on public relations. It was supposed to be a personal essay in which you were meant to highlight the type of hero you wanted to be and how you wanted the media to perceive you, and how you would get them to see you in such a light. How would you brand yourself, and why. All stuff that didn't apply much to Hitoshi as someone shooting for the underground, but he'd make something up.

Bakugo caught him looking but he didn't look overly pissed. Frustrated, sure, but more at his paper than at Hitoshi for staring. He grit his teeth and glared down at his blank page like it was his mortal enemy, pencil clutched so tight in his hand his knuckles were white. Hitoshi was surprised it hadn't snapped.

"They already think I'm a fucking villain." Bakugo hissed out, more to himself than to Hitoshi. "No way in fuck am I changing my whole personality just so they'll think otherwise. Not like it'll matter. They're all fucking convinced I'm going to blow this place up one day anyway."

Maybe he did care what people thought of him, Hitoshi realized. Or maybe he just didn't know how to get them to stop and see him in another light now that they seemed so convinced he was bad. After all, he was still new at this. He should count his blessings. Hitoshi happened to be a veteran in the field.

"Been there, done that, got the shirt. Welcome to the club." Hitoshi sighed out, moving to look back to his phone only to pause when he saw Bakugo's head whip his direction, surprise painted in the furrow of his brows. Hitoshi raised a brow of his own, elaborating dryly. "I have a brainwashing quirk. I've been a future villain from the moment it manifested."

He shrugged like it was no big deal. Bakugo's face twisted into an expression Hitoshi wasn't sure he'd ever seen on his face before. It looked almost... confused. Like he couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Hitoshi'd had issues similar to his own. It would've been comical if it weren't so sad. Hitoshi waited patiently for him to get through his emotional constipation and sort through his thoughts.

"What the fuck?" Bakugo eventually seemed to settle on, scowling. He sounded almost calm, his volume normal for once. "That shit doesn't make sense. What, you tell someone to walk off a fucking building or something?"

"No, but I could've, and that scared them." Hitoshi shrugged again, turning back to his phone for real this time. He liked a picture of a cat in a tiny tuxedo. "Look, you're not the only one who's been called a villain just for being the way they are. It's just the way things are. You're angry and loud and explosive and that makes you dangerous. My parents used to muzzle me to keep me quiet because my quirk takes a verbal trigger. Pot, kettle."

"Then what the fuck did you do? Are they still doing that shit?" Bakugo asked sharply, and Hitoshi was surprised to find he sounded genuinely upset over the fact that Hitoshi had been wronged. A righteous sort of anger you could only ever feel if you were feeling it on behalf of someone else. Hitoshi snorted, lips curling.

Bakugo was staring at him with a terrifying intensity, like he'd never seen Hitoshi before now. Bakugo glanced over most people, deeming them not worth his time. Even his own friends he hardly bothered with at sometimes, not viewing them as worthy of his attention whilst they were up to their stupid shenanigans. Now, he peered at Hitoshi and saw him, analyzing with intelligent eyes.

"They stopped a while ago. Now I just avoid them." Hitoshi propped his head in his head, his cheek squishing against his palm. "And what do you mean what did I do? I proved them wrong and got into the hero course anyway. Obviously."

He gave a wry grin, gesturing sweepingly at the kitchen. Bakugo's head tilted a little as he considered the answer. His anger was gone again. In its place was something thoughtful that softened his entire face. He drummed his fingers on the counter, the only sound aside from the ticking of the clock hung on the wall by the stairwell.

Bakugo grunted after a moment of ruminating, turning back to his paper. He stared at it for a beat before hunching over the page and beginning to write. Hitoshi peered at him a little longer before shrugging, turning back to his phone silently.

(The next day, Bakugo made an entire pie, taking out a slice for himself and for Hitoshi both. He dropped the plate in front of him, a bold contrast to the scalding pan Hitoshi usually got. He took his seat at the other end of the bar silently, stabbing his fork into the spiced apple dessert without giving Hitoshi so much as a second glance.)

~~~~

Bakugo sits at the other end of the bar more often than not. Sometimes they engage in incredibly short conversations. Sometimes they don't. Hitoshi's not sure how to feel about it, nor is he sure how to feel when he stumbles down from his dorm to find Bakugo already waiting there, his cheeks wet and his hands curled around a cup of tea.

"This is a fucking first." He gripes, voice slightly clogged from his crying. Hitoshi blinks blearily at him, massaging his jaw. It always aches after nightmares about his muzzle. It's odd. Talking about it and thinking about it doesn't bother him anymore, yet he still wakes up in terror from memories of the thing. "You look like shit."

"Thanks. So do you." Hitoshi responds blandly, beelining for the tea pot. "Nightmares too?"

He's not sure why he asks. Hitoshi never asks. Maybe it's because they've been playing this song and dance for so long that it almost feels like an odd form of friendship, or maybe he feels an odd sense of guilt and displacement for not having been here first for once. And sure, it's possibly not the first time Hitoshi has missed Bakugo. It's just the first time he's walked in on him, and it feels... weird.

Bakugo clearly feels the same way if his scowl is anything to go off of. His weird way of crying, where he acts the same as he always does and doesn't give anything away in his expression aside from anger, holds firm tonight. Hitoshi feels an odd sense of discomfort watching him cry, even if he's seen him emotional several times before. He pours himself a cup of tea to distract himself and frowns.

"Obviously, you fucking moron. You think I come down here for fun?" Bakugo scoffs, though he ignores the existence of his tears entirely. Hitoshi doesn't try to call him on it. The blonde looks at him, cautious and nearly skeptical. "...You said your shit ass parents used to muzzle you."

It's not a question, but it is a request. Hitoshi can read between the lines. Hitoshi hums into his cup of tea, leaning back up against the bar. It feels odd to have their positions reversed like this but it doesn't seem like a bad thing. With just the two of them being down here-- somehow it makes it okay.

"Had a nightmare about it just now, actually. Doesn't bother me as much as it used to." Hitoshi admitted easily, head tilting slightly as he thought about it. "Got to the point where I can wear my voice modulator-- you know, the one that's a part of my hero costume. It doesn't bother me anymore. Sometimes memories just resurface."

Like tonight. The nightmares about the muzzle were few and far between. It used to freak him out. He could barely touch his own face without freaking out. Facial coverings of any kind were a no-go. He probably could've gotten over it faster with the help of a therapist, but he'd done alright on his own all things considered.

"How?" Bakugo demanded, setting his own mug of tea down. He'd stopped crying, instead staring at Hitoshi with that same, terrifying intensity. "Before UA I got wrapped up by this sludge villain fuck. Almost suffocated and shit. Fucker encased me in his body like a goddamn stapler in jello. Couldn't move or breathe-- it was total ass. Sometimes my blankets fuck shit up for me if I move in my sleep and get wrapped up or something. Can't wear a fucking mask either. So, how?"

It was blunt, explanatory, and straight to the point. It was the most Hitoshi had heard him talk in one go, at least down here. It was more than he ever expected Bakugo to share as well, especially with someone like Hitoshi. He'd just... opened up. Dumped a whole plethora of information right in Hitoshi's lap, and the purple-haired teen had absolutely no idea what the hell he was supposed to do about it.

Bakugo had done it just as casually as Hitoshi had. He supposed that made sense. Give what you get and all that. Hitoshi still had to wonder-- Did anyone know Bakugo had nightmares? Did anyone know why he had them? Hitoshi was struck with a sudden sense of humbling. Here he was with a total asshole, one who acted like a standoffish, feral cat that hid under the couch and tried to kill you if you so much as breathed in its direction, and he'd just shared something personal. Actually, willingly shared something.

"Fuck. And then they locked you up at the Sports Festival." Hitoshi realized suddenly, blinking. He leaned against the counter this time. It felt almost comical to look at Bakugo now, standing instead of sitting. "What assholes."

"Then those shit ass villains. Don't fucking know why I can't get a handle on it, but I need to hurry the fuck up and get over it." Bakugo seemed to agree, scowling darkly. It was an amazing show of trust. Maybe Hitoshi never breathing a word of his baking or his tears had earned him some without him even realizing.

"I'm no therapist. What I did worked for me, so don't kill me if it doesn't transfer over." Hitoshi warned, because it was true. All he had were the shoddy methods that helped him get by. "I started in the mirror at home, and I made sure I was entirely in control of the situation and alone anytime I did it. I used to clap both hands over my nose and mouth and hold my breath. Used to freak me out, but once I got used to it I moved on to a light medical mask pulled under my nose. Then over it. Then I'd put a hand over my mouth and nose in public, mostly in class while sitting at my desk. Eventually I just stopped being afraid as I got used to it."

It was simple. It felt stupid to put it the way he had, but it had worked for him. He'd unlearned his fear response. He can't say he'd do well if someone tried to grab him and shove something onto his face themself, but his nightmares had significantly lessened. That had been the end goal seeing as Hitoshi's sleep was already sparse enough uninterrupted. Him being able to wear his voice replicator was just a bonus.

Bakugo glared thoughtfully at him, nodding slowly at his words. He used to glare at Hitoshi with a certain glint in his eyes, one that just dared him to try and overstep his invisible boundaries. It was gone now. Hitoshi supposed it would have to be for him to bring something like this up.

Hitoshi had never been one for socialization. He still wasn't particularly here to make friends, though he'd long since accepted that fending Izuku Midoriya off was quite literally impossible. Now, with Bakugo, he knew not befriending him was impossible too. It was just the natural order of things. They weren't afraid of his quirk. There was nothing to stop them from drifting closer.

"You still have nightmares." Bakugo noted, though there was an undertone of accusation in his voice. He was glaring again. Hitoshi sipped at his tea. It wasn't his favorite in the world but Bakugo didn't brew a bad cup either.

"Not as often." Hitoshi shrugged. "It's a lot better than before. Like I said, that's just worked for me. I hadn't expected to be able to wear my support equipment. It's a bit of a miracle I can at all."

Bakugo grunted his acknowledgement, scowling down at his cup of tea. He'd obviously wanted a quick and easy route to fixing his issues. Hitoshi wished it worked like that. Would make his life a hell of a lot easier, that's for sure. He eyed the blonde for signs of oncoming violence. It wouldn't do him much good to get attacked for daring to see Bakugo in such a vulnerable state.

Hitoshi eyed him carefully as he made his way to his designated stool, the tea warming the ache in his hands away. His head was pounding from lack of sleep and the sudden wake-up call his nightmare had given him. He sunk down into his seat, a heavy feeling of malaise sitting in his chest like a weight he wasn't strong enough to lift.

Bakugo didn't say anything else, but it was clear as day he was distracted by what Hitoshi had said, not upset. He peered down at his tea as though he'd find his answer in the dredges, brows furrowed in thought. Hitoshi eyed him a few times but mostly stayed to himself and his phone. More Harry Potter fanfiction. What could he say? He was going through a phase. Eventually he'd move on to the Voltron fandom when he felt like being hurt again.

Bakugo's departure a few hours later was quiet and wordless. He didn't spare so much as a glance Hitoshi's way, but Hitoshi hadn't expected him to. He just rinsed out his mug and left, stomping his way back up the stairs so loud it was a small miracle he didn't wake the entire dorm with his footfalls. Hitoshi watched him go with a scrunched up nose and yet another shrug-- his signature move at his point, he did it so much.

Hitoshi wondered if his methods would work for his tetchy classmate. He guessed if Bakugo stopped coming down so often, he'd know.

~~~~~

He didn't stop coming down, but he did start to talk more. About things that Hitoshi would almost call normal topics, but surely the great Katsuki Bakugo wouldn't be willingly engaging him in useless conversation, right? Hitoshi was a skeptic at heart, what could he say? It just seemed terribly out of character.

Not only that, but he was... well, open. Like, he kept talking about his feelings and stuff. To Hitoshi. And Hitoshi really wasn't sure why, nor was he sure what he was supposed to do about it. It's not like he could just ask him to stop. That would probably end with his head detached from his body if he weren't careful. And besides, he couldn't say he exactly... hated it. It was just weird was all. Unexpected.

"Shitty fucking Deku." Is the first thing Bakugo says when he storms down the stairs, rage lighting up his face. Not unusual. "Did you fucking see him today? Stealing my moves? Who the fuck does he think he is?!"

Hitoshi made a face as the blonde slammed a mug down on the counter, and surprisingly, the piece of ceramic glassware did crack this time. Right down the middle. Hitoshi was very careful not to make a noise of amusement at Bakugo's incredulous look as he pulled out a different cup, muttering to himself about 'useless fucking dishes' under his breath. There was a redness to the tips of his ears that spoke to embarrassment.

"I think it was more taking inspiration than it was stealing." Hitoshi mediated drily, diverting attention away from the cracked mug. "I mean, I use Mr. Aizawa's techniques. I'm basically copying everything he does, capture weapon and all. Would you call that stealing?"

"Fuck yes." Was Bakugo's immediate response. Why had Hitoshi expected literally anything else? Ugh. "You should develop your own style instead of using that shitty old man's shitty moves. And besides, at least you have permission. Deku just copies me like some sort of freak. He's always following me around and looking down on me."

Bakugo sounded incredibly sure of himself which Hitoshi found... astonishing, really. Because if there was anyone Izuku Midoriya admired more than All Might in this world, it was certainly his precious rival 'Kacchan'. Their dynamic was one of the worst Hitoshi had seen literally ever in his entire life. It was unhealthy and toxic, and really he'd love nothing more than to see it crumble into nothing so the two involved could both go their own separate ways.

Bakugo was the aggressor in this scenario. Midoriya was a little overbearing and way, way too cheerful, but he wasn't necessarily doing anything wrong. He was just... peppy. And yeah, very enthusiastic, especially when it came to anything hero related. He had Bakugo on a pedestal so tall you had to crane your head to see the top of it, which extended past the clouds and well into the Earth's outer atmosphere. How Midoriya could look up to someone who was such a dick was beyond him.

"He's not looking down on you." Hitoshi noted simply, because anyone who looked down at Bakugo would have to be a certified moron, and that's the last thing Midoriya is. In fact, the guy's way too smart for his own good. "He admires you. It's actually a little freaky how much."

Bakugo turned to look at him flatly. Clearly he wasn't buying what Hitoshi was selling. Hitoshi took a sip of his tea, which was beginning to cool.

"You think that shit ass little nerd admires me?" Bakugo scoffs. "Get your vision checked, eyebags. All that fucker ever does is look down on me. He thinks he's better and stronger. Always has."

"Nope. That's not right at all." Hitoshi said it very plainly because there's no way Bakugo's pea-sized social skills center of the brain would be able to wrap itself around it otherwise. Hitoshi clearly wasn't the one who needed to get his vision checked here. "He doesn't think he's better and stronger than you. He wants to be better and stronger than you. Because you're the best and the strongest, and he's smart enough to know that."

Someone call him Dr. Phil. When did he become Bakugo's personal therapist? No, really. Someone give him a cohesive timeline in power point form so he can fully grasp the scope of this. He wants to understand how he even got to this point. It's entirely surreal. He doesn't even want the job, either. He just happened to be here.

He can't deny that it's interesting. Hitoshi isn't sure if he helps or not. He rags on Bakugo's social skills, but the truth is that he really doesn't have much going for him in that department either. He had no friends growing up. It's only now that he's in 1-A that he's beginning to forge connections that could be called... ugh, friendships, or whatever. He still can't believe he came into this stupid class saying he wasn't here to make any. That had been moronic. He might as well have looked Midoriya in the eyes and challenged him directly.

"What the fuck? Of course I'm the best and strongest." Bakugo said, which really didn't make any sense in the context of what Hitoshi had just said. The explosive teen looked a little confused. Poor guy. Maybe Hitoshi needed to put this in toddler terms. Or would that get him killed? Yeah, scratch that. Using a baby voice would probably get him offed.

"Yeah, I know. That's what I just said. You're strong, top of the class, you have great arms, and your face is nice. Midoriya knows this. He wants to be like you." Hitoshi said bluntly. Might as well drill it in. He's too tired to feel shame, and it's not like he's lying anyway. "All of us sort of do. You have noticed that Midoriya likes to copy All Might too, right? You think he looks down on him? No, he just admires him. So he tries to be like him in any way he can. In pursuit of being the best, or whatever you crazy spotlight chasers are after."

And Bakugo looked... completely and totally dumbfounded by this revelation. Like he absolutely couldn't believe he'd never thought of it that way before. As though Hitoshi's words were somehow news to him. Had Hitoshi just broken him? That was awkward. He wondered if Bakugo would get pissed if he bailed. This was starting to get weirdly close to existential crisis status. Hitoshi really didn't want to ebb into that territory.

Hitoshi continued to sip at his tea as Bakugo stared at him with big eyes. Eventually he hesitantly got out his phone to scroll through more cat photos. He liked the ones of them in little outfits best. Especially crochet hats that covered their little ears and made them look especially round. Quality content. He really couldn't believe it was free. He'd pay money just to look at their little paw pads. It should be criminal for something to be that fucking cute.

Bakugo processed. Watching his expression morph and change was pretty funny. It was different every time Hitoshi risked a glance over into the blast zone. Eventually the blonde made what sounded like a noise of frustration, standing up so fast he almost sent his bar stool flying back in the process. He didn't storm up the stairs like Hitoshi expected. Instead he went for the fridge, already pulling out milk and eggs and all the other things he'd need to bake.

Hitoshi watched him idly. He had no idea how one rage baked without getting flour and sugar all over everything, but Bakugo achieved it. The kitchen remained fairly spotless just as always. Any accidental spill was wiped up before Hitoshi could so much as process it was there. Neither of them said anything again, not until the cake pan was in the oven and set to bake. Then, Bakugo whirled on him.

"He isn't looking down at me?" He demanded. It came out sounding like a threat, just daring Hitoshi to lie. Hitoshi wasn't impressed.

"No, Bakugo. In fact, I think it's safe to say nobody is looking down on you. Except maybe that psycho blonde guy from 1-B." Hitoshi made a face. "I'm pretty sure he looks down on everyone, though."

Bakugo iced the cake purple and served them both a slice, looking pensive. Hitoshi let him ruminate, lips curling into a smile as he liked yet another Instagram post. He hoped Piko the British Shorthair, wherever he was out there, knew that Hitoshi would die for him.

~~~~~

The very next day, something astonishing happens. Something that has even Mr. Aizawa's brows raising incredulously. Because during training, when they're asked to pair up for some one-on-one sparring, Bakugo doesn't go off with his redheaded best friend or one of the other morons that hovers around him. He stomps over to where Midoriya stands.

He looks pissed as always. Hitoshi half expects him to murder Midoriya on the spot just for existing. Everyone else seemed to think the same thing is going to happen if their cringing was anything to go off of. There's a brief silence as the blonde approaches, everyone bracing for the inevitable explosion that always seems to come when Bakugo and Midoriya are close enough to breathe the same air.

Only it never happens. Bakugo stalks over and comes to a stop next to him, crossing his arms over his chest. His new gauntlets are slimmer than his old, bulky ones. Streamlined for easier maneuverability. They've helped his mobility a lot, especially in the air.

"...Kacchan?" Midoriya winces a little as he says it. The blonde grunts and glances at him. Midoriya looks like he wants to sink into the floor. "C-Can I help you with something?"

"The exercise, you idiot." Bakugo scoffs at him like he is the absolute biggest moron he has ever had the displeasure of talking to. Hitoshi blinks when Bakugo's red eyes find his purple ones from across the gym. There's a flash of something-- amusement, maybe?-- before he's turning to scowl down at the green-haired boy at his side. "We're supposed to spar. Or were you not listening?"

Midoriya looks like he isn't sure if he should be calling Recovery Girl or jumping in place out of excitement. He seems to choose to latter, eyes wide as he practically vibrates out of his skin. A grin stretches across his face, wide and unbidden. Bakugo scowls back, but Hitoshi can see that he's looking and really watching, carefully trying to pick apart Midoriya's expression for signs of the arrogance he'd been so certain was there before.

Hitoshi snorts, turning to Kaminari, who's bounded over with an insistence that they fight one another. Bakugo won't find what's not there. And if he does-- well, then maybe he's not as smart as Hitoshi thought.

~~~~~~~

Bakugo comes down to the kitchen, crying again, and sits himself in the stool right next to Hitoshi's. Plops down like it's nothing. Hitoshi stills, glancing at his classmate with raised brows as the blonde buries his face in his arms, leaning to rest them on the countertop. He didn't even bother to get tea.

"That bad?" Hitoshi asks.

"Shut--" Bakugo hiccups, venom in his voice. "--the fuck up."

Hitoshi wordlessly slides his own cup of tea over for the guy, grimacing. Bakugo's red-rimmed glare could melt through solid steel, but he takes it anyway.

Hitoshi scoots the barest of inches further away in search of a little distance and decidedly doesn't comment when he spots Bakugo blatantly looking at his feed full of cat content. In fact, he even angles the phone so he can see them a little better. Therapy in its finest and most precise form, if you ask Hitoshi.

Neither of them say anything else all night, but the silence is companionable. And maybe that's all that matters.

~~~~~~

"Call me Katsuki." Bakugo demands, plopping down into the stool next to Hitoshi, as though the purple-haired teen has literally ever had any reason to say his name. After having sat there the first time he just never stopped, settling himself down with insistence and a glare that dares Hitoshi to mention the change. "What the fuck was your name again?"

"Hitoshi." Hitoshi doesn't even bat an eye at Bakugo not knowing, too engrossed in his Harry Potter fanfiction to care. Bakugo grunts, squinting and leaning forward to peer at his phone. They're both drinking tea again. Bakugo seems to enjoy the way Hitoshi brews it, though he'd probably never say so out loud.

"That's a stupid as fuck name." Bakugo says, seemingly on reflex. Hitoshi hums idly. Bakugo scoffs. "Draco fucking dies in chapter 47 of that."

Hitoshi freezes, finger still poised to scroll. He stares at his phone for a beat, processing the words, really turning them over in his head a few times. Ever so slowly, he turns to look at the teen next to him, eyes unblinking. Bakugo raises a brow, unfazed as he takes another sip of his tea. Tea that Hitoshi is very tempted to splash up into his face regardless as to whether or not it will result in his untimely death.

First of all, that spoiler was vile and unjustified. Second of all, who the fuck was going to tell him Katsuki Bakugo reads gay Harry Potter fanfiction? Third of all, Katsuki Bakugo himself just admitted, openly, to reading gay Harry Potter. That's a fact most would take to their actual grave and he just told Hitoshi. This is a new level of trust. A level he hadn't even realized was possible to reach.

"...It's not tagged with major character death." Hitoshi's grip on his phone tightened, his eyes narrowing. Bakugo seemed entirely nonplussed, leaning back in his seat and shrugging like the useless rat he just so happens to be.

"The author's a bitch." Bakugo said. Which if he was telling the truth, then yeah, the author sure as shit was. "Just saved you the pain. You're not even to the only one bed trope yet. They build that shit up just to break it all down."

Hitoshi wordlessly closed the tab, not emotionally strong enough to handle a heartbreak like the one he's describing. Bakugo held out a hand. Hitoshi-- wondering if he might be dreaming, or perhaps having a very vivid nightmare-- handed the device over without complaint. What more was there to lose? Almost 50k words in and now he's being told the main ship isn't even going to happen because one of them dies? And by Bakugo of all people? This must be hell.

Bakugo taps away aggressively at his phone as though this is an entirely normal scenario. Hitoshi sits there desolately, sipping his tea but not really tasting it. He's far too tired for any of this.

"Read that shit." Bakugo thrusts his phone back at him. "I also put my number in there. If you don't answer I'll fucking kill you."

Hitoshi sighs heavily.

~~~~~

Bakugo texts a lot.

He texts during class. Training. In the locker rooms. In the halls. During lunch. At the dorms during all hours, barring their kitchen meetings. Hitoshi can be standing literal feet away from him at any given time and he'll still whip his phone out to text him instead of talking to him out loud like a normal person.

Hitoshi is pretty sure he's been accidentally classically conditioning Bakugo Katsuki into being emotionally open around him. He comes downstairs when he's most upset. Hitoshi responds to his open emotional vulnerability with delicious tea and no judgement whatsoever. That's positive reinforcement if Hitoshi has ever seen it. Now, seeing Hitoshi seems to incline him let some of his feelings out.

Still, that doesn't mean he expected it to translate over text. Or maybe Bakugo-- sorry, he's supposed to call him Katsuki now, right?-- is just fucking with him. A very real possibility.

It's just... weird. Definitely weird. Bakugo, Katsuki, whatever you want to call him-- he's exists in a different world than Hitoshi. He has a strong quirk. He's incredibly attractive, with a sharp wit and a promising career full of fame and fortune ahead of him. People flock to him like birds to breadcrumbs. He's a sun that planets are set to orbit, not a plain old asteroid floating through space like Hitoshi is.

Their relationship shouldn't even exist. More than that, Hitoshi shouldn't enjoy it as much as he does. He likes Katsuki. Likes the person that exists underneath the anger and pure rage he projects at everyone else. He's funny. He likes to bake to relieve stress and knows all the best Harry Potter fanfictions. He secretly loves cats but would never admit such out loud.

He's surprisingly insecure. He has an inferiority complex, which pairs very oddly with his narcissism. He likes his friends more than he lets on and wants to live in an apartment with a lot of natural light one day, and a big balcony that he can listen to music on. He's anal about how he ties his shoes because he wants both bows to look identical, and he's surprisingly a stickler for the rules despite his issues with authority and being told what to do.

Katsuki: 
Shitty hair hurt my fucking feelings.

Hitoshi stares at the text blankly, unable to believe what he's reading. Bakugo-- Katsuki? Katsuki got his feelings hurt. And the person he's decided to share this fact with is Hitoshi. For some reason.

Which was a mistake on his part. But surely he must know that by now.

Hitoshi:
Good.

He's probably not going to get blown up this late into the game for saying something like that, right? It's not that Hitoshi doesn't care that Katsuki apparently got his feelings hurt. He just... doesn't care that much. Nor does he see how it's his problem. Katsuki's not a loser, he can handle it. Hitoshi's brows wrinkle as he thinks about it. It usual.

Katsuki: 
Shut the fuck up you turnip-haired idiot.

Katsuki: 
He said it's weird that jello makes me nauseous and shit. And I know he didn't fucking mean it but it's still ass. Like he doesn't have fucking wet dreams about that Crimson Riot fuck nobody even remembers anymore he's been gone so long.

Oh. So not good, then. No wonder he brought it up.

The slime villain attack. Katsuki had shown him the news footage of the incident and jello was a good way to describe the guy. He'd been transparent, a giant blob of thick, suffocating goo that Katsuki had been trapped in for a shockingly long time. The heroes had all stood by and done absolutely nothing, watching him struggle for air and fight for his life until Midoriya showed up and bought him some breath, and then All Might swept in.

It wasn't something to make light of. Hitoshi felt surprisingly angry all of a sudden. Even if Bakugo didn't have trauma and jello just happened to make him feel sick on some whim, why would someone poke fun at him for it? Especially if he was obviously sensitive about that fact. Katsuki always gets an agitated look on his face when he talks or thinks about what happened-- surely someone else would be able to coin that as discomfort.

"Are you okay, Shinso?" Tsuyu ribbits out as he rises from his seat, shoving his lunch tray away from him as he does. Everyone turns to him as he steps out of the bench, rolling his shoulders as he goes.

"Peachy." Hitoshi gave a mock salute, eyes scanning the cafeteria until he found his targets. "Be right back. I just have to do something real quick. Watch my lunch?"

He waits until he gets some hesitant nods before slinking off, hands shoved in his pockets. His past general studies classmates scowl at him as he passes. Hitoshi sticks his tongue out petulantly in response but keeps his expression bored otherwise. There's a lot of loud laughter coming from Katsuki's table. The blonde teen looks less than amused, his teeth grinding together hard and his arms crossed over his chest.

He can see the moment Katsuki notices his approach. He looks a little surprised, though he hides it well. Jello had been on the menu today, and almost every single one of Katsuki's friends had gotten it on their trays. Worse, it's key lime flavor, a paler shade of green than regular lime. Hitoshi frowns, reaching forward and swiping the bowl Kaminari had been jiggling around jokingly.

Kaminari freezes, blinking rapidly and turning to see who'd just taken is food. Hitoshi takes Kirishima's off his tray, and then Mina's, and then Sero's. He pauses before he takes Jiro's too, piling them all up and ignoring the stunned looks he's getting. Hitoshi doesn't say a word until he has them all, stopping only briefly to glance over them all. Checking for any he may've left behind, just in case.

"Don't be dicks." He advises once he's sure, giving them all a nod. He glances down at Katsuki. He looks more relaxed already, though he's begun to stare at Hitoshi with that burning gaze again. Like he's trying to pierce through him. "Do it again and I'll tattle."

It's petty. They obviously don't actually know what he's doing or talking about. Hitoshi doesn't give a shit. He walks off to go return the bowls to the dirty dishes intake, not so much as glancing back as he does. He scowls at the jello as though it personally harmed him when he settles the stack of bowls down. The dishwasher looks mildly concerned for him as he does.

His phone dings once he returns to his table, settling down in front of his waiting tray. His friends don't ask what he went to do. Only greet him with smiles, glancing at one another in question but ultimately shrugging it off. Hitoshi pulls his phone out to check his texts.

Katsuki:
Thanks.

His lips curl into a smile.

~~~~~~~

Katsuki is staring at him. Intently. Which isn't entirely unusual, but it is a little disconcerting considering they're sitting close enough for their elbows to brush.

They're definitely friends. Hitoshi had been unsure if he could label them as such in the past, but now he's certain. He and Katsuki Bakugo are friends-- good friends. Maybe even best friends if you want to push it. Hitoshi can deny it no longer.

They see each other almost every night, eating baked goods, talking, sharing tea, reading Harry Potter fanfiction with one another-- which is quite frankly insane. They text constantly back and forth. Hitoshi knows an alarming amount about Katsuki, from his favorite food to his deepest trauma. They get along like a house one fire, Hitoshi's dry humor and lack of offense at insults working well with Katsuki's brashness and hard edges.

They understand one another. Which is great and all. There's just... a problem. That problem being that Katsuki is incredibly pretty and Hitoshi is incredibly not straight. You can see the issue, right? That's not to say two not straight guys can't be friends without having feelings or anything. It's just that Hitoshi can't help it. Could you, in his shoes?

Katsuki is complicated. He has an odd way of showing he cares, but once you figure it out, you'll find he worries over a lot more than you ever assumed. He'd the very definition of strength on top of all of that. Hitoshi can't stop the way his eyes trail him sometimes, or the way his gaze lingers on the golden curve of his jaw, or catches on the ruby shade of his eyes.

Hitoshi isn't any of that, though. He's a little greasy, and he's always tired, and he's a little mean. Which sure, Katsuki is super mean. The difference is that he's actually soft really deep down in there somewhere, and Hitoshi is just... not. He's lazy and quiet by nature. Mellow, you could almost say. He wants to be an underground hero where Katsuki wants to be number one. He doesn't have any lofty goals of being number one, any burning ambition to be the best. He just wants to make it.

"Is there something on my face?" Hitoshi asks finally, unable to stay still. Katsuki doesn't so much as blink as he turns to look at him. He's close-- too close if you ask him. Or maybe that's just the gay in him talking.

"Fuck no." Katsuki responds mildly. Or at least as mildly as someone like him can. "But there could be."

That's... ominous. Hitoshi stares at him for a beat, eyes flickering down to his tea. It's practically untouched. His he going to throw it in Hitoshi's face? It'd be on brand for him. Probably. He seems like the type to throw things at people for no reason.

Katsuki follows his gaze and immediately rolls his eyes upon seeing what he's looking at. Which Hitoshi personally finds offensive, but also views as proof his suspicions have merit. This is another thing you can't blame him for. Besides, if Katsuki were attractive and nice, that'd be too many positives for one person to have. You've got to offset it somehow. Like how Midoriya is unfailingly determined but incredibly annoying. Or Iida is super smart but is only capable of speaking like a customer service agent.

"...Right." Hitoshi says slowly, still eyeing the tea suspiciously. Katsuki looks distinctly unamused. "Of course. Theoretically, there could be something on anyone's face."

"You fucking moron." Katsuki scoffs like this was supposed to be obvious. "I'm talking about me."

Hitoshi can physically feel the moment his heart stops beating in his chest. A million thoughts fly through his head and yet his mind is somehow still entirely blank at the same time. He freezes, staring at Katsuki uncomprehendingly. The words don't fully register. Katsuki sits patiently whilst they attempt to, a shocking move from someone like him.

Have you ever walked through molasses? Hitoshi hasn't, but he imagines this is probably what it feels like. Katsuki stares up at him, chin propped up on his hand, waiting. Those eyes are burning again. The intensity there speaks to something else, Hitoshi realizes now. Something he hadn't recognized before. Something he still doesn't.

"...You." Hitoshi blinks. "You could... what?"

Katsuki scoffs like Hitoshi's an idiot, leans forward, and kisses him. Hitoshi guesses that explains what he meant pretty well.

~~~~~~

Hitoshi's not sure why he thought they'd only kiss once, or that it wasn't that serious. Not the case. They kiss a lot now. Katsuki also changes his own contact in Hitoshi's phone to read 'boyfriend' with a shit ton of explosion, skull, and knife emojis at the end. He tells Hitoshi that if he so much as looks at anyone else, he'll kill him.

Hitoshi personally doesn't know what the fuck is going on so he just nods, blindsided entirely. The bags under Katsuki's eyes lessen and something in his eyes brighten, but that doesn't stop him from coming down to the kitchen every night, or sometimes even to Hitoshi's dorm room if he can't find the teen waiting downstairs. They still talk, still open up to one another, still bake and drink tea-- they just kiss more. A lot.

He doesn't hate it, of course. On the fucking contrary, Hitoshi can't believe this is actually happening. The reality of it occurs to him one day when they're standing side by side in gym, in a line with the rest of their classmates waiting for Mr. Aizawa to finish talking to Vlad King from 1-B, their hands subtly brushing every so often. It just clicks in his brain. He's dating Katsuki Bakugo. Him. Hitoshi Shinso. Is dating Katsuki Bakugo.

For a moment he just stands there in total shock, turning to look down at the blonde in question with big eyes as though seeing him for the first time all over again. Hitoshi is like, substandard. He's below the bar. He can hardly take care of himself. He's a gremlin who lives off of coffee during the day and tea at night, reading fanfiction and acting reclusive. He obsesses over cats, has wild hair, and generally looks like something that accidentally fell out of the back of a moving garbage truck.

Katsuki has told him he doesn't give a shit anytime Hitoshi has brought it up, but he really doesn't care. That Hitoshi is like... you know. Hitoshi. And it somehow doesn't matter to Katsuki, and now they're dating one another. As in, they're in a relationship. A functioning, real relationship. Hitoshi likes him a lot. Katsuki somehow seems to like him back just as much.

"Fucking finally." Katsuki rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. He draws the attention of his friends, who turn away from their own conversation to look at him. Hitoshi blinks rapidly.

"We..." Hitoshi stares at him. He drops his hands from where he'd been fiddling unconsciously with his capture weapon, brows furrowing. He gestures between himself and Katsuki with a hand. "We're dating."

There is a sudden silence in the gym that has everyone, including Mr. Aizawa, turning to stare at him like he's insane. Which yeah, this is absolutely fucking crazy, he thanks them for noticing. Katsuki raises a single, perfect eyebrow. Hitoshi feels frazzled. Like yeah, they've been making out in the kitchen practically daily at three in the morning, but it's serious. For real serious. Between them.

"Yes, Hitoshi." Katsuki drawls out, reaching out to pat him on the back consolingly. "We're fucking dating. I'm glad you finally fucking noticed. Can we hold hands now or do you need some more time?"

He holds out a hand. Hitoshi stares at it for a moment, thoughts whirring, before he sighs and takes it. Katsuki looks fairly satisfied with this turn of events. Hitoshi swears he hears him mutter something about how it'll be up to Hitoshi to propose, because Katsuki sure isn't doing it after that. He tells himself he's just imaging things.

He looks up from where he'd been staring at their interlocked hands and finds that he's not the only one stunned. All attention is on them, eyes wide, a few jaws even dropped. Mr. Aizawa looks pale and like he's seen a ghost. He stares at Hitoshi like he's seeing him for the first time. On Katsuki's other side, Mina slaps her hands up to her cheeks audibly.

"I'm sorry." The girl leans into their space. "But what?!"

Katsuki grins, wide and all teeth, and Hitoshi sighs all over again.