izuku couldn't always be there for his scary nights. his internship called him away at all times of day and night, and sometimes shouto woke from a nightmare, gasping and reaching for a body that wasn't there, and the cold wrapped its teeth around his wrists and bit him until he cried. he knew he shouldn't have been so dependent, especially on someone vying to be the symbol of peace. when they were older, izuku would have to leave him often, a thought that plagued and haunted him, and he tried not to think about that future too much. he'd grown too addicted to him, grown to need him too much—exactly what he'd been trying to avoid coming into ua as a freshman. but now there was nothing to be done. izuku was a permanent fixture in his life, and when he had scary nights and izuku wasn't there, he freaked out. layered half the room in frost, singed his sheets, muffled his screams with the palm of his hand and bit into his skin until blood pooled on the tip of his tongue. izuku couldn't always be there for his scary nights, and that was initially how it started.

without his comfort person, shouto turned to something else, anything else, for solace. found himself digging through izuku's drawers, grabbing the first article of clothing he came across, which just so happened to be the extra extra large banana yellow sweatshirt izuku had gotten for his last birthday. and even though izuku was shorter than him, shouto drowned just as easily in his sweatshirt. it was made from cotton, but felt as soft as a cloud, hugged his body with just the right amount of cushiony looseness, so that he didn't feel suffocated or trapped by that softness, didn't feel lost in it, but rather aloft in it. like he could just float away, like he could just fly. it was warm too. so warm and soft and it smelled like izuku, like his scented lavender soap and his apricot face wash and his scented candles and him, him, him.

aloft in it, warm in it, and he quickly took to wearing izuku's huge sweatshirts while he was away. he worked his way through izuku's entire collection, trading his regular black pajama shirts for one of izuku's things each night and falling into dreamless slumber with his fingers curled around the fuzzy hems and his nose buried in izuku's pillow case.

when the fabric of izuku's big, big sweatshirts brushed his skin, he didn't feel so damaged, didn't feel like rough, rough, rough scars and rough bones and rough burns and rough boy, rough, tough boy, so cold and strong and he felt warm and soft and floaty. he felt small and sweet, like he could be one of those dewey eyed boys in the weird animes izuku watches in the middle of the night when he thinks shouto is sleeping, gentle like those rose-cheeked boys who kissed with their lily bud lips and giggled like cherry cola and cream.

he felt like a boy his mother could have loved, a boy his father never hit. wearing izuku's sweaters, he felt mm, soft.

after those first few times, everything began to feel different. after a long day at school, his t-shirts were too coarse and his blazers were too sharp and his turtlenecks were too tight. he started rummaging through izuku's closets in the evenings too, dwarfing himself in those big sweaters and sweatshirts and sniffing at his sleeves and curling up around a pillow. it was harmless and private. he never really intended for anyone to find out, certainly not izuku. he hadn't really thought about it. at least, not until izuku walked in on him sniffing his hoodie like a weirdo.

well, he hadn't exactly been sniffing it, he'd been wearing it. it was pastel blue and had a cartoon rice ball in the middle and it smelled like izuku, but it was the smell izuku only had when he first woke up, sunlight and sleep. he'd worn it while he took a quick nap, and when he roused from slumber, disoriented and foggy eyed, he found izuku standing in the doorway of his bedroom with the weirdest expression on his face. he'd evidently just come from exercising with kirishima in the gym, as he was still dressed in his pastel purple leggings and jogging shirt, and so shouto couldn't tell if the pretty pink blush on his cheeks was from exertion or something else.

he was just standing there, staring at him with his lips parted and his viridian eyes foggy with dazed film, staring at him like he was the strangest creature he'd ever beheld, some foreign beast slumbering in izuku's bed. shouto was just conscious enough for his anxiety to set in, and for him to realize he was still in izuku's hoodie. the fabric had hiked up in his sleep, bunched up around his waist, and he still had the sleeve tilted toward his nose, as if he'd fallen asleep inhaling izuku's scent. he immediately realized how inconsiderate it was of him to have taken his sweet, forgiving boyfriend's sweatshirt without asking him first, for just taking advantage of his kindness and helping himself.

"sorry, i'm sorry," he slurred, propping himself up with a crooked frown dripping down against his lethargic lips and his brows furrowed in quiet distress. he yanked at the neckline of izuku's sweatshirt, trying to pull it off, but he was uncoordinated and sloppy, confused by his own fatigue. "should've asked if i could borrow it first..."

he pulled it upwards, expecting it to slip right off his head, but he'd forgotten he'd left his arms still in the sleeves. he cried out in befuddlement and slight panic as the fabric slipped over his face and forced his arms up into an awkward, mildly painful position. he squirmed, attempting to fight his way out of the sudden darkness, but he only ended up more stuck.

then he heard izuku giggle. his frown deepened, and he scowled, prepared to offer some sarcastic retort to defend himself from his boyfriend's unprompted ridicule, but then the sweatshirt was being pulled back down, and his face popped back out from beneath the neckline. he found izuku startlingly close to him, an amused little grin on his strawberry lips and his head tilted. he let go of the sweatshirt, letting it fall back around shouto's body as it had been before, and shook his head softly. there was something foreign and tender nestled in the plains of his flushed face...shouto was sure he'd never seen this emotion before. strange...

"i'm not upset, shouto-kun," he laughed gently. he placed a hand on shouto's shoulder. it was warm, so warm that its heat sunk through the cotton fabric and raised a few goosebumps on his skin. he'd never get used to izuku's touch. "you don't have to apologize. you know, boyfriends usually share each other's clothes. it's not like, um, unusual or anything."

"do they?" shouto muttered distractedly. izuku's eyes were especially pretty up close and his eyelashes were so curly. "interesting."

izuku's smile broadened, and shouto was instantly winded by the sight of it.

"i think you look cute." he said, almost whispered, like he was sharing a secret. his freckled cheeks burned a dark shade of red. shouto thumbed at the blushing skin, resting the pad of his finger on the lift of izuku's soft cheekbone.

"do i?" he mumbled. "strange. i didn't know i was cute."

"you're always cute, but you're especially cute right now. you look so tiny."

shouto nodded. sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if it was normal to feel nauseous when one's boyfriend calls one cute.

"almost as tiny as you?"

izuku huffed. "hush, you."

shouto hummed teasingly. he blinked his heavy lids, and izuku huffed an amused little scoff at his gooey expression, pressing against the crook of his fingers.

he looked so pretty in the afterglow of his post-training bliss, adrenaline still ringing his eyes in electric elation, self satisfied pride nestled in the corner of his soft mouth. his hand was firmer on shouto's shoulder, a little bolder. he didn't hesitate before sweeping his fingers along his neck, nudging at where bare skin met the sweater's hem. shouto shivered, but remained still as izuku ran his calloused thumb along the slope of his pale collarbone, folded against the dip there and followed it down to his clavicle.

he wondered if izuku could feel his furiously his heart was beating, if he could taste his desperation as it slowly mounted, as it slowly dragged its eager claws across his stomach and left him sick with it. he was still so starved for touch, even after all this time, and izuku was so good about indulging him.

"you have really pretty collarbones shouto-kun," izuku whispered, and shouto felt the gentle kiss of his words on the surface of his lips. his gaze had been soft soft soft like his sweater. "i never really noticed before because i can never see them. you always wear turtlenecks and button ups and ties and stuff. fancy people things."

"fancy people things," shouto mumbled, half-mocking, half-bashful. "they're just normal clothes. and how are my collarbones pretty? they're just bone and you have them too."

"i dunno, they just are." izuku sighed, and he rubbed at his collarbone again, like he'd found something especially nice there. shouto shuddered at the sensation, a little harder this time.

shouto captured his hand in his own, pressing it hard against his chest. he was breathing very slowly now, sluggishly, but his heart felt like a hummingbird's cage, pecking feverishly at his ribs. izuku met his eyes, and they were perfectly sated, perfectly gentle. quiet. and...

"you make me feel so soft." shouto whispered, stare flickering down to izuku's tilted lips, full and plush.

izuku giggled. "you are soft. i don't understand why people don't see that. you're just a cute teddy bear. a big ball of fluff."

"fluff." shouto whispered.

izuku surged forward, fit his mouth against shouto's. his lips were warm, a gentle pressure against shouto's, moving at a sluggish, unhurried pace yet devastating all the same. shouto's cheeks and neck and ears all burned with fiery blush, and he kissed back, just as slow. he was still a little bit clumsy with kissing, always a bit too desperate and too needy, and sometimes he clanged their teeth together or bruised their mouths by pushing too hard. but izuku was good at soothing him, good at sighing into the seam of his mouth and stroking the length of his spine with the tip of his finger. shouto released izuku's hand as it moved from his chest, down his stomach to his hip, fitting beneath the hem of his sweater and pressing flush, skin against skin. another jolt of electricity spiked through him, and his stomach seared like it had been doused in alcohol. he sucked in a ragged inhale, grasping onto izuku's shirt with a lightly trembling hand, and izuku soothed him softly, stroking circles into his hip bone.

"you taste like strawberries." he breathed shakily into his mouth, and izuku hiccuped a stuttered hum, sliding their lips against each other.

"u—uraraka's lip gloss." he said almost shyly, and shouto kissed him again, a little rougher this time to get the message across.

i like it. i like everything you do. i like you, i like you, i like you.

they kissed until their lips felt a little swollen and their breaths were shallow. shouto pulled away from izuku reluctantly, sucking in a harsh gasp and resting his forehead against izuku's. he tongued at his mouth and got sticky residue from izuku's lip gloss, sighed and felt the phantom press of his mouth. izuku was still stroking his hip, soft, soft, soft. his other hand pushed against the place where his heart was, felt its stupid fluttering.

"you can wear my sweatshirts whenever you want, sho," he hummed. "and wherever you want. no one here would judge you. and if they do, i'll beat them up!"

"you're about as threatening as a marshmallow." shouto retorted, a shaky smirk edging at his mouth. izuku flicked his hip, indignant.

"i fought overhaul!" he huffed, adorably petulant. "i almost beat you at the sports festival too! i could definitely beat you now!"

"is that a challenge?"

"hey, no, i'm not gonna fight you right now, i said i'd fight for your honor." he pouted, and shouto couldn't resist kissing it away with a soft peck.

"i know, 'zuku," he said, and he felt izuku soften against him. he smiled, earnest and raw. rawer than he ever thought possible when he first arrived at ua, intimate in a way he'd never really known until izuku. "thank you, really."

"mm," izuku murmured. he turned his head until his nose nudged at shouto's cheek. "it's really nothing, shouto-kun. i just uh—i just want you to be comfy and...y'know, happy."

"and because i look cute in your sweaters." shouto added seriously, and izuku bubbled over with fizzy giggles, cherry cola and cream and mm, warm—

"yes, and that too," he said tenderly, and shouto felt his smile against his skin. "of course, that too."

and shouto closed his eyes with a sigh.

after that, shouto didn't keep to his room when he wanted one of izuku's sweatshirts. he returned from training or from internships or from class and he shed all of his 'fancy people clothes' like ill fitting skin. he searched through izuku's closet and picked out one of his big sweaters and let himself be soft, soft, soft.

and the first time he walked into the common room wearing one of izuku's cat themed pastel pink sweaters, half of his classmates looked at him as though he'd suddenly grown a second head. at first he'd been a little terrified, too hot in his gut like he'd swallowed coal and his head spinning with cold boy, rough and tough and cold and you're so but then kirishima stood up and clapped him on the back with his perfectly broad, perfectly firm hands, like he was knocking him back to earth, and he told him that he looked cute with a charming, sharp grin and hearth red eyes.

once the silence was broken, then everyone surged in on him with outstretched hands and sticky confectionary coos, like he was a sweet toothed baby in a dinosaur onesie. it was a weird adjustment, because before, everyone gave him a rather wide berth. it wasn't that they disliked him or ostracized him or isolated him, but he knew they were vaguely wary of him. though he resented it, he was still and always would be endeavor's son, endeavor's fucked up art project, endeavor's little robotic science experiment forged in hellfire and blood. when he'd first arrived, he depended so fiercely on his ice in an attempt to scorn his father that he ended up freezing up, ended up trapped in eternal winter, locked in his marble and snow fortress, untouchable in his nightmarish tundra where no one could get to him.

they were wary of him because he still flinched when someone raised their hand at him, and because sometimes his words didn't come out right and he ended up gritting hail through his teeth on accident. they said he was tall and cold and mysterious and dark, and so he was different and they had to be careful, oh so careful not to you're just like him—not to burn—he's only five! careful not to, so he wasn't someone to can't raise this child anymore—just like him—pathetic—

but now. for some reason, they touched him now. sometimes, he'd watch cartoons in the common room with his arms wrapped around his waist and his face shrouded by one of izuku's fluffy hoods and then denki would wander out with his pikachu jumbo plushie clutched in his arms and plop down on the floor in front of him, and he'd lean against his knees with a long sigh and ask, "you don't mind, do you?"

and shouto would just shake his head dumbly, and they would watch cartoons together, denki's back against his knees, soft.

or, sometimes, he'd go to momo's bedroom to ask for an extra pillow—because she always had the softest pillows—and jirou would be there, and they would both look at him with warm, hazy eyes and rose lips spread on a quiet "awe". he'd tilt his head, confused, and they would tell him they liked his sweatshirt—which had been sailor moon themed, even though he had yet to see the show—and he'd say, "oh, it's izuku's, but i'll tell him that you like it." and they'd go all sweet and gentle again, and then momo would stuff a bunch of pillows and blankets in his arms and then jirou would pat his head—pat his head, and then she'd bark a laugh at his wide eyes and poppy colored cheeks and she'd pat his head, what—and momo would tell him that he could come by any time, for more pillows or for academic help or even if he just needed to vent. she didn't stutter or stumble once, didn't look away from him and bite her lip and suck on her cheek like she was nervous, like he was scaring her making her nervous. she just looked at him like he was...something. something that made her feel warm.

it was nice.

and, and, satou started baking him pastel colored cupcakes and asking him to taste test his new muffins, and, and tokoyami started asking for his opinion on old american authors like edgar allen poe and then smiling at him when he said something that he liked or agreed with—liked, he likes me? i made him smile, he likes me—and, AND, mina started giving him cutesy pokèmon keychains she and uraraka got from the mall and hugging him around the waist when he said things—she said he was being cute, but he was just speaking, how was that cute—and, and, AND, the girls let him sleep in their room when he had nightmares and izuku wasn't home, and sometimes, they even cuddled him—cuddled him, like a big cuddle pile, and it was warm warm warm warm warm, and they didn't even get mad when he said it was too much and asked for a cuddle break because touching made him so weird inside and they were nice and soft—

and everyone was so nice, everyone was so nice.

even shinsou—EVEN SHINSOU—seemed to sort of like him he likes me!

he hadn't interacted with shinsou much since he joined their class. not because he was actively avoiding him or anything like that, he'd just never had any reason to engage in one on one conversation with him. he was friends with izuku, and he sometimes hung out with them during their uno nights, but shouto didn't know him very well. definitely not well enough to be comfortable letting his guard down around him.

but, one night, eri had an emergency at the hospital and izuku had to leave to deal with the situation. shouto could have gone to one of the girl's rooms or stayed with iida or kirishima, but he'd been tired. he didn't know why, he just had days like that, when he felt like he was sitting at the bottom of a pool with his lungs screaming and his body bloated. his mind so murky, he couldn't sort through his own thoughts, could barely grasp the sound of his own name, and his eyes wavering, distorting his reality into something foggy and intangible and unreal. he hadn't had the energy to speak, as the act of even opening his mouth seemed too much. he'd let izuku kiss him on the forehead before he went, and it was only once he was gone that the cold set in again.

he'd laid in izuku's bed with his body crumpled around an all might plushie, drowning in izuku's baby blue hoodie and nosing at his sleeves, but still so cold. he ended up thrashing in his sheets, mouthing distressed cries into the pillow case but he lost his sound in the darkness, felt the cold press him to the mattress with heavy hands and fanged teeth. he scratched at his wrists, ripped off his sweatpants because his skin felt wrong, wrong, it's all wrong—and then he tucked his knees beneath the cotton hem and folded his bare legs into his stomach like he could protect himself that way, but it didn't help it didn't too much, and izuku wasn't there and he just wanted izuku, he wanted i want izuku, i want izuku, i want, i want—and he felt suffocated and scared and abandoned at the bottom of the pool—pathetic—

he'd needed to get out, needed to do something other than lie there and gasp for air, so he'd wandered into the common room in nothing but izuku's big hoodie and his cotton white socks, holding his boyfriend's allmight plushie in his cold hands, vulnerable. and he'd been intending to curl up on the common room sofa, watch one of those homecafè videos koda showed him. but then, shinsou was there.

he was sitting on the sofa, sipping tea from a team rocket mug and staring at the tv with glazed eyes and a deep frown digging into the corners of his lips. he looked pale and ghostly in the tv's blue light, his lilac curls hanging limp about his face and tumbling down his neck, his blasé expression broken by something strikingly heavy smeared haphazard over his angular features. and he was watching tv and shouto was standing there, with no pants on, in his hoodie, with izuku's plushie, with his spine crumpled and his lips parted on a soundless heave and he had wanted to watch tv—wanted to watch homecafè videos on the tv, like koda showed him—but now he couldn't, of course he couldn't, because shinsou was using the tv right now and he was standing there—pathetic—standing there...

he swallowed hard, tried to take a step back to depart from the room as quickly as possible, but he was sluggish, dazed. he tripped over himself, must have made some kind of noise as he tumbled, because shinsou's head jerked up and his startled gaze met shouto's panicked one.

"um..." shinsou spoke uncertainly, and though his voice was velveteen and cradled low in his throat, like a secret in the dark, it felt like thunder, cracked like thunder against shouto's ears. he felt like he was seeing shinsou's confused face through distorted glass, squinting at him from the bottom of that murky pool with his body bloated and his lungs screaming and standing there except now he was shaking and he didn't have pants fuck—

"sorry," he mumbled. his voice came out too quiet, squeezed around the knot in his throat, the coal at the base of his tongue. he sucked in an inhale. it was too shallow. "i'm sorry, i just—i'll just go."

he yanked the hem of his sweater down, but the chill crept up his bare thighs anyway. he tried to move, but he was slow, slow, slow, like there was syrup in his bones and he was all sticky and so slow. shinsou placed his mug on the coffee table in front of him, turned to face shouto with a weird expression he couldn't read—expressions—expressions were so weird, what is that face, that face, is he annoyed—? and shouto took a step backwards, but it wasn't a big enough step because he was still in the common room, staring at shinsou.

"todoroki." shinsou said, careful. shouto's shoulders hiked up.

"i'm leaving now." he told him. he didn't move.

shinsou's brow furrowed, and his lips slipped further down, into a watery frown that shouto couldn't entirely make out in the dark. he seemed annoyed tired. shouto felt bad stupid for disturbing him.

"lea—" he tried to say again, but he choked. shinsou loosed a soft sigh, and shouto flinched, drawing back as if physically struck. his mouth curled around some soundless shape but the words never came. instead, a rugged exhale shuddered between his teeth, and his heart banged relentlessly against his chest.

"todoroki, please sit down." shinsou told him, and shouto shook his head minutely. he was confused, he was leaving—i'm going now, i'm leaving, why am i not moving—but shinsou stood from the sofa, speed walked to his side. shouto stared dumbly at the frown on his lips, that hazy frown dragging his mouth into a darkened trench and he was annoyed tired, he's annoyed with you he's just tired, he's—

shinsou placed a hand on shouto's shoulder. he startled, expecting the sting of a slap, and for a moment, lavender irises became eyes wreathed in flame, and the frown twisted into a scowl. but shinsou's touch was soft, feather light. the tension bled from the bow of his shoulders as shinsou curled slim fingers around his trapezius.

"come sit down todoroki." he said slowly, steady and measured. he guided shouto over to the sofa—shouto blinked and they were sitting down—when did i sit down?—shinsou's thigh pressed to his own, shinsou's hand still on his shoulder. it was surprisingly warm. not as warm as izuku's, but still warm. this was the closest he'd ever been to shinsou, and he smelled like jasmine tea. shouto loved jasmine tea.

"what—" he forced out, but his syllables were all warbled. shinsou shook his head.

"just breathe for a second," he said, and his gaze flickered over shouto's pinched face. his frown looked a little softer now, and when he tilted his head, his lilac curls swayed over his eyes. shouto followed their lethargic motions. "what are five things you can see?"

shouto blinked. i know this, izuku does this, i know this, i can do this—

"you, the tv, your mug, the floor, 'zuku's plush—plushie, and...uh, the coffee table."

"good," shinsou said. "name four things you can touch."

shouto flexed his hand.

"zuku's plushie, your leg, my hoodie, um...your hand."

"good, three things you can hear."

"the tv, your voice, the air conditioning."

"two things you can smell."

"you—jasmine tea—and zuku's smell."

"good," shinsou huffed a small chuckle, smiling faintly. "one thing you can taste."

shouto tilted his head.

"...my saliva."

"that works," shinsou hummed, and his voice was so low and soft, it made shouto sort of sleepy listening to it. he regarded shouto carefully, and his stare made shouto a little nervous, but he looked clearer now. more real. his eye bags were dark as bruises against his pale skin, and his amused little smirk was wonky. "you feel calmer?"

"yes," shouto said. "thank you."

he clutched izuku's plushie tighter to his chest, tucked his nose to its head. shinsou watched him curiously, a perfectly arched brow lifting in silent question.

"what are you doing up?"

"just," he started, pushing his knees together. "couldn't sleep."

shinsou hummed again. shouto's neck prickled under the heat of his scrutinizing stare, and though the churning fire at the pit of his stomach had quelled beneath his steady breaths, his heart still beat like an erratic drum, panicked and loud enough to fill the entirety of his head. his tongue tingled beneath his teeth, eager for silence, or for sound. it was hard to tell what he needed sometimes.

i want izuku, his mind whispered. he batted the thought away.

"what are—" he cleared his throat, wincing at the faint rasp to his voice. "what are you doing up?"

shinsou sighed, something heavy and nonchalant, like this entire situation completely unfazed him.

"same as you i suppose," he drawled, reclining back against the sofa. his long legs stretched out in front of him until his socked feet pressed up against the coffee table's legs. shouto shifted, and the fabric of shinsou's sweatpants rubbed along his skin. "i can't sleep. never can."

"i'm sorry about that." shouto muttered, and shinsou shrugged.

"it is what it is." his blasé tone was so slow, so steady. so reminiscent of aizawa sensei's, it was almost comical. shouto narrowed his eyes.

secret love child—

"what did you come out here for?" shinsou interrupted.

"i was going to watch homecafè videos."

"homecafè?" shinsou asked, and shouto nodded.

"koda showed me."

shinsou waited for shouto to explain.

he didn't.

"no follow up to that?" he said, and shouto could hear the curl of his smirk in his voice. "okay. well i'm not stopping you. remote's right there."

"aren't you watching something?"

"eh," shinsou shrugged. "not really. just some dumb reality show, doesn't really interest me. go ahead."

shouto hesitated a moment longer, staring wide eyed at his lap, but then shinsou judged him with his knee and he grasped for the remote, squinting against the brightness of the tv screen. he found the youtube app on the home screen and logged into the class 1a account. shinsou waited quietly as he looked up hanse homecafè and clicked on the first video that popped up. shinsou made a soft, curious noise as the video started in silence, showcasing a single glass sitting atop a white table against a whiter backdrop. then, a pair of cat themed tongs appeared, dropping a cube of ice into the cup. a satisfying clinking noise sounded. shouto sighed.

"is this like, asmr?" shinsou questioning, squinting. shouto's brows drew together.

"asmr...?" he asked, quirking his head. he didn't know what that was...

shinsou chuckled. "asmr is like...actually, just ask izuku."

"okay," shouto agreed solemnly. "is it some sort of attack method? did aizawa sensei teach it to you?"

shinsou outright laughed at that, throwing his head back with his mouth spread in a wide grin. shouto flinched at the abrupt break in the quiet. his ears flooded with heat. shinsou's laugh was quite nice, shouto had never heard it before, but it was really gentle. shouto didn't really understand what was funny, but he didn't think shinsou was laughing at him, so he didn't mind.

"sure, it's an attack method," shinsou snickered, and when he looked at shouto, there was something brighter about his eyes, a gleam against the deep set purple that shouto couldn't really place, and his smirk looked a little sharper. "a really important one, so make sure izuku teaches it to you."

"in that case, maybe we should ask aizawa sensei to host a class on asmr," shouto proposed. "it would probably come in handy in another villain attack. everyone should know how to do asmr."

"todoroki shouto," shinsou cooed fondly, and something warm curled up at the base of shouto's throat. "you are an absolute genius."

"oh," shouto blinked. oh. a genius? "so you—"
he likes me, he likes me, he likes me, GENIUS. "thank you."

"anytime." shinsou grinned.

a flutter of heat dusted shouto's cheeks, simmering beneath his skin. a pleasant, tickling pressure, not like his father's searing presence and his hand-me-down power licking at his fingertips. it was the absence of rage and the presence of something softer. shouto pressed his open palm against his chest. his heart gave a delighted skip.

"you look cute in that sweatshirt by the way." shinsou commented offhandedly.

shouto flapped his arm, and izuku's too long sleeve slipped off his wrist, flopping loosely through the air. shinsou chuckled again, and a tiny smile slid against the edge of shouto's mouth.

"thank you." he said. and then they fell back into easy silence.

shouto bit his lip. it's sort of cold, and shinsou's so warm—not izuku warm, but still warm, still warm, and—he was nice, he—five things you can see—warm and nice—

"i wonder if he drinks all the stuff he makes." shinsou wondered as hanse poured his third drink of the video. shouto hummed.

"was wondering that too..."

he leaned a bit further into shinsou's side, clenched the inside of his cheek between his teeth so hard that a bead of blood rose from the puncture. but shinsou didn't shove him away. he just offered him a slightly curious look, shrugged, and then returned his attention to the video. he doesn't mind if i shouto wriggled his feet, just a little bit happy.

i should hang out with shinsou more often.

"you sure you're okay?"

shouto smiled fondly and pressed a chaste kiss to izuku's furrowed brow. uraraka gagged into her palm when izuku hooked his fingers around the dips of shouto's waist, pulling him close with a worried sigh, and shouto allowed a tired chuckle to slip from the seam of his lips. izuku's eyes were a fearsome shamrock that morning, clouded by that same concern that baffled shouto when they first met. so demanding, almost daring, as if izuku was one second away from wrapping him up in bubble wrap and hiding him away in a bulletproof room for the foreseeable future. shouto tangled a hand in his messy head of curls, twisted a forest green tress about his finger.

"you don't need to worry," he breathed against his cheek, and izuku's hiked shoulders fell back beneath his ears in a slumped bow, mouth twisting in a confused little half frown that shouto only just resisted kissing away. "i'm fine, really. just tired."

izuku regarded him carefully, pulling away just enough for their breath to tangle between them and their stares to lock in place. shouto's heart gave a silly start—stupid thing still went crazy when izuku so much as glanced his way—and he fought back the shiver starting cool at the top of his spine. everyone was waiting for izuku now, loitering at the door with varying expressions on their faces and iida's wrist was poised in front of his eyes as he took note of the time. shouto nudged at izuku, prompting him to hurry. he knew he was worried—worried, worried about him—but this was perhaps the one time he had no reason to be. shouto was perfectly fine that day, had woken up with his skin fitting just right and his consciousness held in place by the grasp of his skull as it was supposed to be. his muscles were a bit sore of rigorous training, and fatigue had tied a string around his wrist, yanking him insistently in the direction of his bedroom, but that was all. he was...okay. perfectly okay.

and izuku seemed to see that in his eyes because his creased pink mouth softened at the ends, smoothing into a vaguely suspicious frown. shouto pressed another kiss to his nose, and izuku giggled quietly, squirming in place.

"do i get a nose kiss too?" shinsou called, teasing. shouto squinted at him from over izuku's head, and he gave a roguish wink.

shouto blinked.

"did you want one?" he asked, confused, and shinsou opened his mouth to answer, but izuku interrupted him with a hushed laugh.

"okay sho, i believe you," he surrendered, squeezing at his hips one last time before withdrawing from him. shouto tried very hard not to chase after his warmth like an attention-seeking puppy, curling his hands instead into the hem of his sweater. "call me if you need me. promise. i'll be here in five seconds flat."

"whipped!" denki hissed into mina's ear with a cherry red grin.

whipped? what is that? like whipped cream?

shouto shook his head, resigning to ask about it later.

"i will," he assuaged, nodding towards the door. "now go, have fun. oh, and don't forget to buy a new water bottle since you broke yours."

"no, you broke mine," izuku huffed, but granted him a devastating smile that invalidated his feigned exasperation and had shouto choking on his own saliva. "but i will. see you later, sho. love you."

"i love you too."

shouto watched as izuku skipped over to the rest of their friends and uraraka threw an arm around his neck, shaking him in place. the majority of class 1a filed out of the door, and just before it shut closed behind them, shinsou, the last in their little, disorganized line, turned his head to todoroki and blew him a sarcastic kiss. shouto was incredibly confused by this, but he hesitantly blew one to him in return, which shinsou caught between his fingers and pocketed before following the others out. shouto hummed beneath his breath. perhaps it's a new friendship thing izuku never taught me.

he'd have to ask him about it later.

with the dorms now vacated, the atmosphere fell to almost deafening silence, and shouto clapped his hands together. the smack of his palms resonated like a crack of thunder and he almost flinched.

"well, time to get to work."

the others were going on an impromptu trip to the mall. they had the weekend off, and aizawa-sensei told everyone to spend the free time relaxing and indulging in leisure so they'd be fully prepared for the incoming week, so class 1a decided to go to the shopping center for a group hang out. they'd asked shouto if he wanted to come as well, but he'd declined, which had worried izuku since he'd stopped declining group activities ages ago. but he had a reason for staying behind today. everyone was being so nice to him. they always had been, but especially lately, they'd been...incredibly kind. shouto wasn't used to their affection or their attention, which they all offered up so readily. he spent his childhood digging for scraps of love at the bottom of a pile of resentment, avoiding attention because all attention was bad attention, ducking away from touch, meeting gentleness with anger because pathetic, because just like him. love was strange. they were strange.

izuku practically drowned him in love, practically shoved his endearments down his throat until he was so warm and so full from it all that he felt he could just melt, and the others followed suit. he searched for rage in their eyes and saw none. he looked for a heaviness to their hand, but that heaviness was saved only for enemies, and they'd apparently decided shouto wasn't one. he'd come to realize that he was safe with them, come to realize that if he obliterated all his walls and thawed out before them, they wouldn't yank his heart from between his ribs and squeeze it until it bled all over their fingers, wouldn't point to his scarred insides and bruised lungs and laugh like he was a circus freak. everyone was vulnerable here, everyone was bleeding, and everyone was soft too.

he was safe with them, and while that was a hard conclusion to come to, it was one they helped him find. he would always be eternally grateful for that.

and so, to thank them for that, he was going to make them all strawberry muffins. not that he knew how to bake, because he most certainly didn't, but he'd watched satou move about the kitchen and he'd seen izuku make cupcakes for tsuyu's birthday and that had seemed easy enough, so he was positive he could do it.

he threw on izuku's my neighbor totoro apron so his sweater wouldn't get stained while he baked and began to put out all the needed ingredients and utensils. he put a giant bowl on the counter beside the carton of strawberries and then pulled out a knife—he didn't know what kind he needed so he just grabbed the sharpest one—and poured a handful of strawberries onto the naked counter. the lady in the video he'd watched had said to cut their stems off first and then cut them into smaller pieces before emptying them into the bowl, so he positioned a strawberry between his fingers to hold it still and swiftly brought his blade down on its red skin, just beneath its stem.

which. was a bad idea.

shouto didn't initially realize what he'd done wrong, staring confusedly at the uncut strawberry until he felt a fierce stinging bite the skin of his forefinger.

oh, he thought, lifting his hand before his eyes. his lips parted, and without his consent, a shocked yelp jumped from his throat. he was bleeding.

what do you do when you cut yourself? he thought, but he couldn't quite remember. the path scarlet blood traced down the length of his finger was mesmerizing and the slight pain was jumbling his thoughts, for some reason. he thought of calling for izuku, but then he remembered, izuku had left that's why i'm doing this in the first place, stupid so it was just him.

what do i do?

what do i do?

what—

"—the FUCK are you doing?"

shouto startled hard at the rough shout, and the knife still clutched in his hand clattered against the counter. the blood had reached his knuckle and was now pooling in the crevice between his fingers. he grasped his hand with a wince as he turned around, and he found bakugou standing in the doorway with a familiar scowl on his lips and his teeth bared.

"oh, bakugou," he muttered faintly, a little breathless why are you breathless, what do i do. what do i do— "i didn't know you were still here."

bakugou didn't answer. instead, he stomped over to where shouto stood, braced against the kitchen counter. shouto made a small noise of shock as he grabbed shouto's wrist and held it in an almost bruising grip, scalding the nerve endings there with his sudden heat warmer than izuku, weird shouto blinked.

"what are you doing?" he asked, and bakugou jerked his head up, enraged. the crimson of his eyes flashed a bright, almost blinding shade. shouto could almost see the mini explosions happening behind them.

"what am i doing?" he growled, and his teeth flashed beneath the kitchen lights. "what the ever loving shit are you doing half n' half bastard! the fuck are you doing in my kitchen!"

"well, it's not your kitchen—"

"the FUCK it isn't—"

"bakugou, it's the ua kitchens—"

"shut the fuck up!" he shook shouto's limp wrist and stared at his bleeding hand as if he'd never seen anything like it before. his scowl sharpened, if that was even possible, and there was something weird about his face, a furrow between his brows and a pinch around his mouth. shouto didn't know what expression that was. he assumed it was another variant of anger, because bakugou was almost always angry. "what the fuck is this?"

shouto blinked very slowly.

"it's blood," he said carefully. "bakugou, it's clearly blood. are you okay?"

he knew bakugou was a bit stupid, but surely he wasn't that stupid—

"SHUT UP YOU FUCKWAD, I KNOW ITS FUCKING BLOOD!" he tugged shouto again, and he almost went careening into bakugou's firm chest. "i meant why the fuck are you bleeding all over my damn floor! come here!"

with a growl, bakugou adjusted his grip on shouto's wrist and yanked him over to the kitchen sink. shouto's breath hitched as he pushed shouto up against the counter and held his wrist beneath the faucet's spout. he squirmed in bakugou's grasp, but bakugou just slewed a series of incomprehensible insults and forced him still.

shouto nearly swallowed his own tongue when bakugou shoved his own leg against shouto's thigh to pin him to the counter's edge as he turned on the cold water. he stood incredibly close, with his fiery heat bleeding into shouto's skin, warming him all the way down to the bone. it wasn't unbearable. more like sitting too close to a furnace during the winter, shoving his hands up against the fire place's gate and pushing forward until his face tingled from the warmth. with bakugou this close to him, that's how he felt. like he was sitting too close to a hearth. sort of nice. he smelled like burnt sugar and caramel, weirdly enough, and a hint of smoke, which shouldn't have been a nice combination, but it was it's really nice and i wonder if he could bakugou shoved his knee into the back of shouto's and he almost fell backwards.

"you should be more gentle." he told bakugou, and bakugou just scoffed.

"i would if you would stop tryin to fuckin' move!"

"i'm not moving anymore."

bakugou grunted in some strange form of affirmation, but he didn't budge.

"the hell were you tryna do anyway?" he spat and shouto hummed, nodding towards the counter where he'd left all his things.

"i was making strawberry muffins." he said, and bakugou scoffed again.

"how'd you cut yourself doin' that?"

"i had to cut the stems off the strawberries. i can't put strawberry stems in muffins, that wouldn't taste good."

"you're so fucking weird."

shouto narrowed his eyes. "you're weird."

"you wanna fucking go icyhot?" bakugou said, but there wasn't as much harshness to it as usual. he wasn't even looking at shouto. he was staring at his cut, watching as the last of the blood washed away and fled down the drain, leaving only the pink cut stretched across two of his fingers. bakugou turned off the faucet and only then did he remove his leg from the back of shouto's thigh but it was warm which shouto was thankful for. but he kept a tight grip on his wrists as he dragged him across the kitchen, like shouto would bolt if he let go for even a second.

he looked weird when he was concentrated, his jaw clenched to a strong line as razor sharp as the blade shouto had cut himself with and his eyes narrowed to vermillion ovals, his mouth all twisted up like he'd tasted something especially vile. he wrapped shouto's wet hand in a wad of paper towel and put pressure on his fingers until the sting of it forced a wince.

"i'm making strawberry muffins for the class," shouto was explaining before he could think about it, chasing off the strange, stilted silence that had fallen unevenly between them. "to thank them."

"thank them for what?" bakugou hissed, quieter than before. the corner of his lips dragged down into a softer, yet still frustrated frown. "they haven't done jack shit."

"they're nice to me," shouto blurted out. bakugou tilted his chin up and fixed him with a questioning glare. it was piercing, cutting him straight down to the center. shouto tilted his head. bakugou's eyes were intense, but not like his father's. that was an interesting thing he hadn't noticed before. "they're nice to me. nicer. they've been nicer to me recently. i don't know why, but i'm really grateful, and i heard that you give gifts when you're grateful. homemade gifts are the best. strawberry muffins are a gift and they're homemade."

bakugou snorted. it was an unattractive noise, but somehow, it didn't make bakugou unattractive. like when izuku drooled on his pillow or when mina sucked water up her nose on accident. he'd asked izuku why people could do things considered unattractive and still be attractive and izuku had said something about cute habits and caring about people and how that made them endearing.

"you're dumb as shit," bakugou said lazily, and strangely enough, shouto didn't feel offended by the accusation. "those idiots don't need to be thanked for that. and why would you try to make them strawberry muffins when you can't fucking bake? that's stupid as hell. and the fuck do you mean you don't know why they're being nicer? it's obviously cause you—"

bakugou stopped.

shouto tilted his head.

bakugou was doing something...weird, with his face. bakugou was an enigma at the best of times, and shouto had gotten somewhat used to reading his reactions, but at the moment, he was completely and utterly lost. his nose was scrunching up and his mouth was doing this thing where it tilted sideways and then pursed, and his cheeks...his cheeks were turning a ruddy shade of raspberry jam pink. shouto followed its infectious spread as it seeped across the prominent bows of his cheekbones and climbed along his jaw until it tinged his ears the color of a bleeding sunset.

"it's cause i?" shouto prompted, but bakugou remained silent. his adam's apple bobbed unevenly against his throat.

shouto stared, uncertain, as bakugou's gaze drifted down, down, down to the place where his sweater collar rested, just beneath his collarbone. he looked down, checked that he hadn't spilled anything on himself that the apron hadn't been able to catch, but he was perfectly clean.

he pinched his brows.

what—oh.

"you don't like my sweaters." shouto concluded. he tried to sap the emotion from his voice, tuck all his tangled feelings at the bottom of his heart chamber and leave them there to rot, but he didn't quite succeed. something heavy chased the words off his tongue and made them sound almost defeated.

bakugou blinked rapidly, seemingly caught off guard. his eyes snapped back up.

"what?"

"you don't like my sweaters," shouto repeated, a little faster now. "well, izuku's sweaters. you don't like them, or, or you don't like me wearing them, which is—" he hates you now. "which i understand because—" pathetic—rough tough boy—strong and cold and you're so—

"it's weird." he forced out. he grabbed the fabric of izuku's apron, wrung it tight between his fingers and squeezed it to his palm until his knuckles paled. oops, i swallowed coal again. his stomach churned.

bakugou stared at him blankly.

"what?" he repeated, and shouto sighed, but it came out too ragged, like a shredded exhale.

"you don't like my sweaters—"

"what the hell are you talking about?" bakugou shook his head, shook it so hard that his staticky blond hair shook with him.

shouto frowned. breathed again, but it still sounded weird, still rushed into his lungs too fast and curled up sour and shallow. pathetic—

"you're looking at my sweater and you're upset—"

"i'm not upset," bakugou groaned, and frustration settled back in, as recognizable and familiar as ever. "and if i am upset, it's not cause of your dumb sweater, it's cause of how damn stupid you are."

"you don't like my sweaters—"

"stop fucking saying that!"

shouto fell silent and bakugou heaved a big, aching inhale, raising his stare heavenward. shouto traced the dark seam of his mouth as it dragged down and sideways, the shape of his full lips as they crumpled up like a crumpled rose blossom. he released shouto's hand and shouto tried not to panic as he drew it back to his side, as his heart began jack hammering like it was trying to dig a hole in his muscle tissue and escape. he sucked in another breath. it tripped on his tongue. why am i freaking out, why am i freaking out, why am i freaking out, why am i—

"oi, todoroki," bakugou growled. he kicked at the tiled floors with the toe of his foot, and the bleeding sunset on his cheeks burned even darker. "your sweaters are fuckin' fine. i don't have a damn problem with you wearing them, i'm not that big of an asshole."

shouto pinched his lips together. bakugou crossed his arms, and shouto couldn't resist watching the way his muscles flexed against his chest. hug me they were just there, of course shouto looked at them hug me, strong arms are good for hugging he didn't even need bakugou's opinion, why was he freaking out hug me, strong arms are good for—hug me—hug now—shut up—

"whatever," bakugou huffed. he shook his shoulders, as if to roll something down his back, and straightened back up again. he yanked open the drawer to his left and shuffled through it with one hand until he found what he was looking for. he emerged with a box of hello kitty band aids resting against his palm. "gimme your hand."

shouto obliged, and bakugou plucked a bandaid from the box. shouto watched, wide eyed, as bakugou ripped the wrapper off with his teeth. he cradled shouto's fingers in one warmwarm calloused hand and wrapped the bandaid around the first cut. then he repeated the process and applied it to his second finger. shouto remained still throughout, unmoving and flushed in his grip.

"thank you." he murmured once bakugou finished, and bakugou grunted again.

there was a moment where they both stood uncertainly across from each other, shouto's fingers furled against bakugou's hand, both their gazes cast downwards. then bakugou made a little scoffing noise at the back of his throat and practically stomped over to the counter. he grabbed a new knife from the knife block, one far less sharp with a thicker base, and grasped the strawberry shouto had been trying to cut between his thumb and forefinger.

"get over here." he gritted out, and shouto scrunched his nose, befuddled, but shuffled to bakugou's side anyway. as soon as he was within reaching distance, bakugou grabbed onto his forearm and yanked him forward. shouto, anticipating his manhandling, went along with it as bakugou wedged him between the counter's edge and his chest. the heat and that dizzying conflation of burnt sugar and caramel surrounded him again, and a knot formed in his throat.

"take this," bakugou said roughly, right beside his ear, and shouto tried not to shudder, taking the knife a bit clumsily as bakugou passed it to him. "since you can't do shit on your own, i'm teaching you how to cut a strawberry."

"oh," shouto hummed, pleasantly surprised. a warm thrum buzzed behind his rib cage. "okay."

and then bakugou was caging him in his arms, reaching around his body to place both of his hands over shouto's and he thought what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck—

shouto swallowed hard as bakugou's hand moved to guide him, leading the knife to hover above the strawberry's top. his chest moved against shouto's shoulder blades, so incredibly warm and firm and steady and hug—shut up and shouto could feel his heartbeat, faint and quick.

"you fuckin' hold the knife like this, and keep your fingers here so you don't hurt yourself like a dumbass—" bakugou spoke, and the hairs at the back of shouto's neck rose. he physically fought back the rough shudder working its way down his spine, forcing back the tingly flush beneath his skin. he stood, limp, as bakugou nudged his fingers into position and warm hands and brought his hand down so the tip of the blade dug into the strawberry. "and then you—"

bakugou leaned forward so he could properly help shouto cut, but then his arms flexed again and shouto's mind screeched hug hug hug HUG NOW and he melted into bakugou's semi-embrace like a soggy noodle.

bakugou made a strange, sort of startled growl as shouto's weight pressed into him.

"this ain't a hug, half n' half!" he hissed, and shouto blinked dazedly. "i'm teaching you something, don't waste my damn time!"

"you volunteered your time," shouto muttered, and bakugou started to bite back with some rude retort, but then shouto blurted, "you're really warm." and kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, kill me, KILL ME—

"fuckin—" bakugou huffed. he pinched shouto's side with one hand, and shouto wrinkled his nose. "shut the fuck up!"

"you keep saying that—"

"you keep talking! now fucking listen to me and cut the damn strawberry!"

somehow, they managed to bake the strawberry muffins without burning down the entire kitchen. while they were in the oven, bakugou taught shouto how to play mario kart on kaminari's nintendo switch, although it wasn't so much teaching as it was aggressively ordering him around, but shouto had fun all the same. when everyone returned from their shopping trip, they found shouto meticulously setting the table and bakugou placing plates of muffins at everyone's designated seat.

izuku gave him another kiss—always a win—and then shinsou smirked at him—strange, but not unpleasant—and when he explained that he'd made the muffins for them as a gift, everyone got all gooey and sweet again. he found himself in the center of multiple group hugs, which was overwhelming but ultimately nice—really nice, they like me, THEY LIKE ME—and then everyone sat down to eat them.

"i didn't know you knew how to bake, todoroki-kun." hakagure observed.

"i don't," shouto told her, taking a seat beside izuku. "bakugou helped me."

at that, everyone paused.

"bakubro?" kaminari asked, his eyebrows raised half way up his forehead, and the others made varying noises of surprise. they looked to the head of the table, where bakugou had seated himself and was aggressively shoveling chunks of his broken muffin into his mouth. when he noticed their staring, he scowled, which didn't look half as intimidating when his face was covered in crumbs.

"what? got a fucking problem?"

"no," uraraka giggled, a mischievous smile on her lips. "i just didn't know you like, helped people. or let anyone inside the kitchen that wasn't you or satou."

"i agree with ochaco-chan," tsuyu added in. "it is strange for bakugou to give anyone access to the kitchen, and he doesn't usually help people out of the goodness of his heart—no offense."

"bakugou is super sweet!" kirishima exclaimed, throwing out his hands. "he's just tsundere about it—"

"i'm not a fucking tsundere—"

"thanks for helping shouto, kacchan," izuku said softly. he reached for shouto's knee beneath the table and squeezed. shouto softened beneath his touch. "that was really nice of you."

bakugou's cheeks flared that rosy sunset red. he glared, and threw down his muffin wrapper as if it had personally offended him.

"shut up you damn nerd! eat your fucking muffins, i didn't spend a whole afternoon with half n' half for nothing!"

izuku just laughed, and shouto sighed, letting his head fall to the junction of his shoulder.

everyone's so nice.

"ah, i miss todoroki-kun!"

izuku lifted his head from where it lay cushioned on the ua floor's thick carpet. uraraka was sprawled across tsuyu's lap with a soft pink pout on her lips and her eyes fixed on the ceiling panel above her. he pursed his mouth, digging his fingertips into the carpet fluff. she'd spoken for him, said what he'd been religiously thinking to himself since his boyfriend's departure. he hadn't dared voice how dearly he longed for shouto out loud out for fear of annoying his classmates, but it seemed they all missed him too, perhaps just as much as izuku did. the dorm atmosphere had been especially lethargic over the last few days, void of its usual zealous energy and electric anticipation, far quieter than anyone was used to. even denki had grown morose, spending his evenings curled up against the sofa by himself with a chew necklace clenched between his teeth and a furrow to his brow.

kirishima sighed, perching himself up on the armchair he'd thrown his body across.

"man, i wasn't gonna say anything," he dragged out, frowning—which was a strange sight to say the least. "i miss him too. it's only been two days but it feels like a lifetime."

"where'd he go again?" shinsou questioned tiredly. izuku winced at the rasp in his voice. he sounded even more exhausted than normal.

"his dad's house," he said. he tried to tamp down the flare of intense worry in his chest at the reminder. "there was an incident with his mother at the hospital, so he went home to be with his siblings and to visit her."

"damn, that's rough." jirou hummed. izuku made a soft sound of affirmation.

shouto had been panicked when he'd gotten the call, had insisted that he had to go and peppered izuku's face with a half a dozen rushed apology kisses before packing a duffel bag for a week away. he promised he'd be back in five days at the most, promised that he would take care of himself while he was gone, promised that he would stay as far away from his father as possible, that he would call if anything went wrong. still, izuku worried. he thought that, in a way, they all did. most of them knew shouto's father did not act as one to shouto, knew that his childhood had been difficult, had been painful, even if only izuku and bakugou knew to what extent.

"did he at least take your sweaters?" kirishima asked, and izuku nodded.

"he did. i wanted him to take them all, but he said i needed them too, that i should keep them in case i got cold."

"he's too precious for this world." uraraka groaned, and the others hummed in agreement.

they lapsed into a forlorn silence, and all fell quiet beside the low thrum of the air conditioning and the occasional sigh. izuku let his eyelids fall closed, twisted the carpet fluff between his fingers absentmindedly as he drifted down the plains of his own brain, dwelling on unsavory thoughts of shouto all alone in that house he so despised. well, not all alone, because he had his siblings but—ugh he just wanted shouto to come home already.

he rolled over to his stomach, propping his chin up on the heel of his hand and found shinsou already staring at him from the other side of the room. it was sort of disconcerting. his stare was intense, his displeased frown so sharp, izuku almost flinched, even knowing that displeasure wasn't aimed at him.

"i want your boyfriend." he stated evenly, and izuku almost choked. he blinked hurriedly because surely, surely he misheard that. he opened his mouth to ask shinsou to please repeat himself, but then the door swung open and iida's raised voice shattered the quiet with all the force of an anvil coming down.

"class 1a—" he started in his 'announcement' voice, startling kirishima half out of his seat. then he looked around, squinting at the near vacant room from behind the clear lenses of his glasses and furrowed his brow. "where is everyone?"

"gym, track field, cafeteria. doing stuff." uraraka sighed, and tsuyu hummed, running her fingers through uraraka's hair.

iida pushed the bridge of his glasses further up his nose with a disappointed huff. "aizawa-sensei asked me to tell everyone that we have tomorrow off. the teachers are attending a faculty meeting, so classes are cancelled."

when no one did anything more than offer disinterested blinks and noncommittal hums, iida's shoulders slumped. he regarded them with a soft frown.

"what's wrong with you all?" he demanded, waving his arms about in a chopping motion. "usually, you would be rife with excitement."

"the vibe is off." jirou told him and kirishima nodded solemnly.

"yeah, read the room, iida." shinsou muttered, dropped his head into the crook of his elbow with a dragging exhalation.

iida huffed, narrowing his eyes. "well why is the 'vibe off' as you say?"

"sho isn't here." izuku mumbled, subconsciously pushing his bottom lip out in a petulant pout.

"we miss todobro. i just wanna squish his little face." kirishima complained.

"he does have perfect cheeks for squishing." tsuyu remarked. uraraka's pout intensified.

"i miss hugging him." she confessed, and yes, izuku could perfectly understand that. he missed hugging him too. his arms felt empty now, his skin constantly aching with the phantom ghost of shouto's familiar semi-warmth, hands itching to touch, lips itching to kiss. he missed burrowing in the space between his shoulder and his neck, missed rattling off details about his day while shouto hummed and nuzzled into his hair. perhaps it was unhealthy to be so dependent, but shouto was so easy to be dependent on. he was a necessary fixture in their lives, no matter how quiet, no matter how timid.

"yes, i see," iida said, bobbing his head almost robotically. a little furrow formed on his brow. "i must confess, i too miss todoroki-kun. it seems silly. he has only been gone for a short time."

"mm." izuku agreed.

"well," iida announced after a few more moments of oppressive silence, clapping his broad hands together. "since it seems we are all eager for todoroki-kun's return, why don't we go out and look for welcome back gifts for him? seeing as we have the day off, i'm sure we'll have time to—"

uraraka gasped, launching herself from tsuyu's lap so quickly that she nearly head-butted her girlfriend in the chin, her frown evaporated in favor of a bright, beaming grin. she squeezed her fists together with a squeal, so elated that she began to float several inches above the ground. tsuyu grasped her ankle with one hand so she wouldn't go too far.

"that's a brilliant idea, iida-kun!" she laughed. izuku sat upright, a smile of his own working its way across his lips.

"it really is. shouto-kun doesn't get many gifts, so he would be really touched." he said and iida beamed, seemingly pleased with himself.

shinsou tugged at the back of izuku's red hoodie, and izuku nearly leapt out of his skin. he had no idea how shinsou had gotten there without him knowing, slinking from the other end of the room like an elusive shadow. he didn't offer izuku any explanation, instead holding up the fabric with a calculating gleam in his eclipsed eyes.

"and shouto needs some sweaters of his own," he said, and izuku blinked. when did shinsou start calling him shouto? "while i'm sure you've got enough for the both of you, he might appreciate having something exclusively for him. and it would come in handy if there comes a time when he doesn't have access to your closet."

"sweaters for todoroki-kun!" kirishima cheered. "we could all get sweaters for todobro! he'll love it!"

"sounds fun." jirou remarked with a tiny smirk.

"very well!" iida concluded, propping his hands on his hips. "i will host a class meeting to notify everyone of our plan and we'll head to the shopping center tomorrow morning."

iida sent a text to the class group chat—minus todoroki—and called a class meeting in the common room. soon enough, izuku's classmates came filing in, taking seats on the floor, the arm chairs, and the sofa, and sitting at rapt attention as iida explained the objective for tomorrow. everyone was more than on board with it, suddenly emerging from the depths of their melancholy with twinkling eyes and an entire list of ideas for themed sweatshirts and stores they could stop at. even bakugou seemed eager, which izuku shouldn't have been surprised by considering what shouto had told him of their little bonding session in the kitchen, but he still was all the same. he claimed that he needed something from the gaming store anyway, that he wasn't going for 'the stupid icyhot bastard' but his ears were stained pink and he kept doing this weird half scowl half smirk thing with his mouth, so izuku knew the truth.

once everyone was in agreement, iida dismissed them all for the night, and they spent the remainder of the evening discussing various topics, all of them centered around izuku's boyfriend. izuku didn't mind though, he was just happy to have someone to complain with about his absence.

the next morning, iida woke everyone at nine in the morning, and the dorm was teeming with life. izuku hurried to dress and then ran out to meet the rest of his classmates, who seemed far more zealous than before. then iida directed them all to the subway and they rode the underground tunnels to the shopping center.

before they entered, iida had everyone surround him so he could impart their instructions for the day.

"we'll be splitting up into three groups of six and then we'll spread out! you can go wherever you like as long as you don't leave the mall and then we'll all meet up in the cafeteria at one o' clock. is everyone clear?"

everyone gave enthused exclamations of agreement, and iida nodded, satisfied with his good work. izuku ended up in a group with shinsou, bakugou, jirou, aoyama, and mina. once everyone had split off, shinsou turned to him with an expectant brow quirk and a small smile.

"what?" he asked nervously, and bakugou scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"what store do you fuckin' shop at?" he grumbled, scuffing his shoe against the mall floors. "if he likes your sweaters, we should shop at your usual place, damn nerd."

"oh, right," he laughed. he scratched at the back of his neck and pointed down to his right, a sheepish blush reddening his cheeks. "i shop at french macaroon. it's that way."

"cool." jirou hummed, tucking her hands into the pockets of her black jeans.

"eh bien, allez-y!" aoyama exclaimed, holding out his arm, and mina happily took it, hanging off his elbow with a joyous giggle and a cherry blossom grin. "come mes amours, for monsier todoroki!"

"i'm not your damn mes amour!" bakugou sneered, but aoyama swiftly ignored him and pulled mina along. jirou shrugged and trailed after them.

shinsou slung an arm around izuku's shoulders and guided them forward, a far too amused smirk on his lips and an almost frightening anticipation behind his eyes. izuku had no idea what was going on inside his head, and for some reason, that unnerved him. but he followed after him anyway, allowing his hand to guide them both forward and swallowing down a bubble of laughter as the sound of bakugou's telltale stomps thudded behind them, indignant enough to crack the ground beneath his feet.

french macaroon was a small, severely underrated aesthetic clothing shop centered mostly around kawaii themes and pastel-colored clothes, as showcased by the shop's faded palette. it was where izuku had snagged his favorite banana milk hoodie, his fuzz lined cat sweatshirt, and the extra, extra large sailor moon sweater shouto was so incredibly fond of. he adored the shop, but he often went alone, and if he did take someone, it was uraraka, who shared the same love of cute things that he did. walking in with bakugou and shinsou of all people was a surreal experience. while aoyama and mina quickly took to the shop, exclaiming over the adorable knick knacks and eagerly sifting through rows of overalls, bakugou stared at the layout as if he were glaring into the pits of hell, and shinsou only seemed to grow more roguish when faced with the interior. the dark gleam to his eyes flickered, and a low hum sounded at the back of his throat, as if he'd seen something that pleased him. which was...good, izuku supposed.

"you can, uh, go look now." izuku stuttered out, cringing at his own stiff awkwardness. bakugou bared his teeth and fixed izuku with a fiery red glare that had lost its effect on him long ago.

"don't tell me what to do." he scowled, but did as he suggested anyway, speed walking to the back of the store.

"this'll be fun." shinsou purred, quirking his head to the side. before izuku could inquire the meaning behind the statement, shinsou was slipping away, his attention caught by something on the rack to izuku's left.

izuku had already given shouto a multitude of gifts. their confessions had been dramatic things, breathed between the seams of salt stained lips, both a whisper and a shout between them, and as such, the relationship that bloomed as a result of their unveiled truth was equally as dramatic. izuku had never had a boyfriend before shouto, so he wasn't well versed in romance. even so, he committed himself to wooing shouto as if they were a victorian era couple required to complete a series of courting rituals before they were allowed to brush hands in public. he'd noticed the way shouto trembled when they kissed for the first time, had taken note of the way he curled up on himself like crumpled paper thrown into an open fire whenever he thought izuku might be upset with him. his father had taken much from him, had forced him to work for things he should have been given at birth, and so he wasn't used to being cared for. so, naturally, izuku spoiled the shit out of him.

he bought him far more gifts than his bank account could afford, and therefore didn't necessarily need to buy him another gift now. but, in his mind, giving too many gifts just wasn't possible, especially if he was giving those many gifts to shouto, who deserved the world and far more. he ended up purchasing a cream colored sweater with pastel blue stripes, a half moon embroidery, and a wide neckline in extra extra large for shouto, along with a pair of knitted baby blue socks. after taking his shopping bags from the cashier woman, he stood in the corner and waited for his classmates. it wasn't long before aoyama, jirou, and mina came to him with gifts in search of approval.

"for monsieur todoroki, i found this beautiful—ah, what is it—studio ghibli! studio ghibli sweater, with a gorgeous blonde man on the front!" aoyama announced, presenting his find.

izuku smiled fondly and bobbed his head. "that's howl, aoyama-kun," he informed him, and aoyama blinked his starry eyes at him, parting his heart-shaped lips on a cute gasp. "shouto-kun will like that. he really loves howl's moving castle."

"mm," aoyama hummed, regarding howl's picture with a small splotch of dahlia pink marking each cherub cheek. "perhaps we may watch it together when he returns...i believe i've taken quite a liking to this howl man. il test tellement beau, digne de moi!"

"he'd really like that." izuku giggled.

then mina whipped out her own gift, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"i got this because oh my god, todoroki would look so good in lavender, don't you think? his skin tone is really good for it, and it would make him look so cute! especially if i put his hair up for him!"

izuku studied her space themed lilac sweater.

"yeah, i agree," he said, and fuck, shouto's collarbones would look so good against that color he grinned at her. "i think he'd look super cute!"

then jirou pulled out her pick, a pastel pink sweater with a turtleneck collar and a strawberry milk carton pasted on the front.

"he looks like a strawberry milkshake when he mixes his hair together," she explained, a fond little smile on her lips. "he's cute. oh, and i also got this rabbit plushie for momo."

"thank you jirou," izuku said. "he'll like that sweater a lot. he loves strawberry milk. and momo will probably be happy you thought of her."

jirou offered him a shoulder pat.

the three skipped over to the counter to make their purchases and izuku hummed to himself.

this was going incredibly well so far. it has been a good idea on iida's part, and the perfect way to get them all out of their heads. he knew shouto would be so happy when he came back, hoped that proof of his classmates affections towards him would help quell the ache of old scars, remind him of the world that awaited him beyond his father's burning gates. he always seemed to forget that, when he visited his father.

izuku pushed onto the tips of his toes, trying to catch a glimpse of bakugou and shinsou from across the store. it seemed bakugou had taken up an interest in a long row of bright sweaters near the back, and shinsou...was nowhere to be found. izuku furrowed his brow and did another survey of the store's layout, only to huff when he still couldn't find shinsou's head of purple hair. he wondered if shinsou had left the store, and was about to dig out his phone so he could call and check when he felt a light tapping on his shoulder. he started and turned on his heel to find the boy in question standing before him with that same crooked smirk on his lips and that same heavy lidded gaze.

"oh, there you are." izuku sighed, relieved. then he realized shinsou had his arms crossed behind him. like he was hiding something.

"did you find something?" he prompted, and shinsou gave a little, rumbling chuckle, tilting his head to the side almost condescendingly.

"did i ever." he mused. in one swift motion, he revealed an oversized sweater so long it would probably reach past shouto's thighs, and colored a rich and beautiful shade of soft lilac, reminiscent of shinsou's eyes. embroidered on the front was a white kitten lounged on its stomach, woven baby blues squinted. it's expression was blank, bored. like shouto's resting face. it was cute, and it had a wide neckline like izuku liked like shouto liked, but with a fuzzy lining. izuku opened his mouth to praise shinsou's choice, but then he realized. shinsou's other hand was still behind his back.

"what..." he began, narrowing his eyes. "what else have you got?"

"zuku, dearest," shinsou drawled, all secretive and smug. "i'm so glad you asked. i've found quite the gem."

and then, from behind his back, he whisked out a pair of cat ears.

izuku blinked. then blinked again.

surely i'm not seeing this but he was seeing this. shinsou was holding up a white headband with a pair of fluffy white cat ears attached. it even had little pink ribbons tied to the tips. and it wasn't just cat ears. there was a lilac satin choker lined with lace and with a little silver bell dangling at the middle. and, AND a fluffy white cat tail to complete the look with a hook for a belt loop.

good god.

"so, am i approved?" shinsou crooned, and izuku tried to scowl, tried to be stern, but fuck, he was blushing and he knew it, could feel the warmth simmering hot and itchy beneath his cheeks, creeping down his neck.

"what—what is this?" he choked out, shaking his head. he attempted to tug his eyes away from those dastardly ears and their cute ribbons, but he was mesmerized. "shinsou, this isn't what you're supposed to do—"

"what ever do you mean?" shinsou hummed. "the objective here is to buy a gift for shouto, yeah? something cute. just as cute as he is. what's cuter than a cat?"

"shinsou—" izuku protested. shinsou shook the lacy choker and izuku bit his lip as the bell tinkled, a pretty, gentle chime. "shinsou, no. this isn't—no."

"c'mon 'zuku," shinsou persisted, smirk curled further up until his self satisfied expression resembled that of the cheshire cat's, perfectly misleading, perfectly persuasive, perfectly eager for chaos. "just imagine it—"

"i don't wanna imagine it—"

"yes you do. imagine our—" our? "cute, adorable shouto dressed up in the pretty things i picked out for him. you know, for someone so tall and fit, he's surprisingly lean, and he drowns in those sweaters of yours. imagine how big this one will be on him? how the neckline will just..." he shook the bell once more. "slip down his shoulder. and shouto will be none the wiser, you know how he is, all wide eyed and so easily flustered—"

"shinsou i swear to god—" izuku squeaked out. his heart was beating a mile per minute, and shinsou hummed teasingly. he could tell, izuku just knew he could tell he'd sunk his claws in him, had him hooked.

"and how soft and cute would he be, in this pretty lilac sweater, curled up in your lap—"

"shinsou—"

"with these fluffy cat ears on his head—"

"stop—"

"and this beautiful choker around his neck, with its cute little bell, a bell that's sure to—"
another shake and the bell chimed again. "whenever shouto tilts his head, like you know he always does—"

izuku stared at him, gaping. his blood was a rush, a torrential downpour pounding against his skull, thrumming incessantly in his veins, because though he denied it, it was oh so easy to imagine shouto in that ensemble, utterly adorable, utterly oblivious to just how adorable he was. prone to soft blushes when izuku held him, prone to stumbling awkwardly over his words when he got too close, prone to curling up against him when he drew him near, and oh—

"you're terrible." izuku accused, and shinsou shrugged, utterly unfazed.

"so?" he asked, quirking his brow like he didn't know, didn't already fucking know—"am i approved?

izuku sighed. pinched the bridge of his nose and briefly fought with himself. he would hate to take advantage of shouto's surprising innocence, would hate to use his lack of knowledge on pop culture against him. but shinsou was right. he would look adorable, and he did so adore soft things. cat ears were soft. and shouto loved cats too, tried to adopt every stray they came across. he supposed...he supposed it wouldn't hurt to give it a chance.

what is wrong with me?

"fine," he resigned, and shinsou grinned wolfishly. "but if shouto doesn't want to, he doesn't have to wear it."

"of course," shinsou agreed easily, and izuku exhaled in relief. "i would never force shouto to do something he didn't want to. but, you know. he can be persuaded."

"i'm not letting you smooth talk my boyfriend into dressing up as a cat boy."

"boo, you're no fun."

izuku face palmed.

"just go buy it."

shinsou gave a mocking salute and made toward the check out counter, humming an idle tune beneath his breath. izuku swore he could feel a headache forming.

he rocked on the heels of his feet as shinsou purchased his items and joined the others a few feet away. he checked the time on his watch—12:34—and did another survey of the store, trying to pinpoint bakugou's progress and ascertain whether or not he would need help—and how to go about offering it to him. but bakugou seemed to have found something and was already heading in izuku's direction with a bundle of fabric in his arms. he didn't even spare izuku a glance once he reached him, glaring pointedly at the floor's paneling and growling at nothing—or was he growling at izuku? it was hard to tell—before shoving the fabric into izuku's hands.

izuku fought off his amusement and held up the sweater bakugou had found. compared to what the others had purchased, it was rather plain. a simple butterscotch yellow sweater with intricate stitching, big enough to envelope shouto's body. it was soft beneath izuku's fingers, loose. the hem flared out a bit at the waist, which he knew shouto would like. though the sleeves were a bit strange. they were stretched long, and at the elbow, a seam encircled the fabric. then, the ends of the sleeves flared out so that fabric would hang off of shouto's arms. when izuku shook it about, it flopped. a little weird, but still adorable, and he knew shouto would appreciate both its material and its cut.

"so?" bakugou gritted out, clenching his jaw tight.

izuku, again, tried to speak, only to be cut off by shinsou, who had drifted over at the sight of bakugou's clear state of discomfort.

"good pick," he remarked, looking over the garment with a meticulous stare. then he caught sight of the sleeves, and something seemed to dawn on him. "oh. and you got those wide sleeves, cause he likes to flap them around. that's a nice touch, i didn't realize you even noticed he did that."

bakugou scowled, but its full effect was ruined by his flushed ears. "fuck off, i didn't notice shit!"

"wow kacchan, i didn't even think about that." izuku awed, because genuinely, wow, i didn't know bakugou paid shouto so much attention.

"shut the hell up you damn nerd!"

"well, i always knew he was a simp." jirou snickered.

"monsieur bakugou is secretly rather sweet, yes?" aoyama drawled elegantly, batting his lashes at bakugou's hunched figure. "how wonderful, i did not know this about him."

bakugou snarled. "you fuckin'—"

"oh, you didn't know?" mina giggled, and before bakugou could make a move to deny her, she was wrapping her arms around his waist and nestling her chin in the space between his shoulder and his neck. "our bakugou's the sweetest ever, he's just very good at pretending to be an absolute ass all the time."

bakugou released a rather unsettling noise of fury, but he must have been used to mina's touch by now. he didn't push her away, accepting her doting with a twitching eye and a fierce sneer.

"i am an ass." he declared, but he stood still as she pressed a cherry lip balm kiss to his cheek. she hooked her arm around his and took the sweater he'd picked out from izuku's hands.

"i'll take this one to buy his gift—"

"it's not a damn gift, raccoon eyes—"

"you guys can go on ahead if you want—"

"get off me dammit! it's not a fuckin' gift—"

"we'll just wait for you outside." izuku told her, and she smiled at him, patting his cheek fondly before dragging bakugou over to the cashier woman, who was looking more and more freaked out by the second.

izuku took shinsou, aoyama, and jirou outside and they loitered at the entrance to the store until mina and bakugou emerged. they stopped at the gaming store before going to the cafeteria to meet the others since bakugou really did need something from there, and then, once everyone had acquired all they needed, they made their way to the designated meet up spot. most of class 1a had arrived already, save for hakagure and ojirou. they waited for them a while longer, most of izuku's classmates chatting about their purchases and betting on who's shouto's would like the most until the two arrived, both breathless and red cheeked. ojirou sheepishly admitted that he'd lost hakagure in a poorly lit goth themed clothing store, and iida excused their tardiness on account of uncontrollable circumstances.

iida allowed everyone an hour more to eat, and izuku spent his lunch munching on fries and pointedly ignoring shinsou's silver tongued comments about cat boy shouto and how similar he was to a cat already and what if he purred and what if—

then, once it was time to return to the dorms, they all filed out of the mall with bags of clothes and snacks and a few new fidget toys for kaminari and they hopped on the subway back to ua. the 'vibe' had returned after the mall trip, kaminari restored to his usual hyperactive self, kirishima back to arm wrestling sero in the living room, bakugou back to shouting at people about their bad cleanliness habits and the like. that night, rather than spend another night alone in a bed without shouto, izuku grabbed one of his big, worn black t shirts, threw it over his weary body, and wandered down the hall to uraraka's bedroom. he nestled between her and tsuyu, inhaled the scent of petrichor and washed out floral perfume, and basked in their warmth, eventually drifting into easy sleep.

by the time shouto returned to the ua dorms, he felt frozen over. he'd spent at least four days locked up inside his father's fortress, his fingers hooked around his sister's rib cage, shoving morsels of stolen warmth into her chest as she cried frosted tears over their mother, half crazed inside a sterile room. it was his father's fault, as it always was. in some last ditch effort to make amends, he'd gone to shouto's mother with a bouquet of cheap violets and a dead apology on his forked tongue. he shouldn't have even been allowed on the premises, should have been barred from her hospital room, but he wasn't. he walked in, and just like always, he brought his hellfire and his destruction with him, shattered the illusion of peace his mother had managed to weave behind the ward's walls, the safety she'd managed to convince herself of.

he left her sobbing with a lazy accusation and a pointed finger, and shouto had arrived just in time to see the doctors put her under, talking about some sort of anxiety attack as if they hadn't been the ones to allow this set back, as if they hadn't let the man responsible for her shambled mind through the doors meant to guard her from his hands. he'd shouted at her doctors until his throat was raw, shouted at their retreating backs with ice creeping down the length of his fingers as they wheeled her away. fuyumi had cried and natsuo had raged and the house was a battleground layered in snow so frigid, it numbed shouto's skin, bit him down to his aching bones. his only comforts whilst there had been izuku's sweaters, which he slept in, and the pillows he squeezed between his arms and pretended it was his body.

his father hadn't laid a hand on him that week, but he returned feeling as though he had, feeling as though he was composed of raw nerve endings, open wires, and bleeding bruises reaching the peak of their soreness. his eyes were glassy and his vision hazy, the world before him insubstantial, and he longed fiercely for the warmth of his friends, for izuku, i want izuku and jasmine tea and soft and strong arms are good for hugging and he longed badly, he longed, he longed, he longed take me home, home.

aizawa-sensei picked him up from the train station, greeted him with a tired smile and a firm pat to the shoulder hug me, hug me and then he guided him into the backseat of a limo with tinted windows take me home. the drive back was quiet save for shouto's shallow breaths and aizawa's occasional questions. when they arrived, aizawa helped him out, steadying him with a light touch to his elbow like he knew shouto was one second from falling apart a little woozy right now tough boy, rough boy, strong and cold and you're so and lead him towards the door, dragging his luggage behind them.

"the others will be happy to see you." he told him, and shouto hummed noncommittally, registering distantly that this was something he should be happy about but unable to grasp the feeling. his skin ached, oh, it hurts, izuku and aizawa seemed to see something in his eyes that made him quite sad, as his lips bowed in a severe frown.

he didn't say anything more, despite what he may have been thinking, and instead prompted shouto to enter. classes had yet to let out. it would be a few minutes before everyone came to welcome him, and aizawa seated him in the common room. he left to make him a cup of tea—presumably, because shouto didn't remember him leaving, just remembered the thud of the mug against the table—and sat with him in weary silence as the minutes dragged by. unlike most adults, aizawa didn't make shouto especially nervous. his presence wasn't as erratic as everyone else's. he was steady and quiet and always there. though shouto hadn't spent much one on one time with him, that was how he felt to him. always there.

he must have dozed off against the back of the sofa at some point, because quite suddenly, he was being lightly tapped on his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes, his lashes were heavy as lead and aizawa was standing over him, saying something about class ending. almost as soon as he had left, the front door was swinging open again. shouto only just managed to catch a glimpse of the first person across the threshold—kaminari—before he was gasping and practically rampaging across the common room to reach shouto. he had no time to brace himself as kaminari threw his entire body weight into his arms, and he flinched at first, hands aimed to deflect a slap, as they had been all week. but kaminari just wrapped his lanky arms around shouto's neck, practically straddled him on the sofa with his thighs pressed to either side of shouto's legs, his chest pressed to shouto's, his face nuzzled in his shoulder.

and the first touch—it was—

"todobro," kaminari warbled against his ear, breath cascading down the bend of his jaw. "missed you, missed you so much!" the palm of his hand gripped shouto's nape, and touching me, he's touching me, he's warm, been long since i've been warm, how long since i've been warm, he's so warm, touching me, touch me more, more, more, more—

shouto melted into kaminari's embrace, might have loosed some tiny, embarrassing noise against him as he sunk against his chest. he smelled of ozone, of lightning and rain and storms and oh, he smells nice, everyone's so nice and where is everyone, i want everyone and shouto let his eyes fall closed, let his lips part on a high exhale as kaminari dragged his fingers through the back of his hair. he gripped at the back of kaminari's uniform blazer, clutched him closer because he felt like he was thawing, he felt like he was thawing, he needed to be warm, and then more people.

kirishima and sero and mina and bakugou, and then tokoyami and shouji and satou and ojiro, and then jirou and momo and hakagure and everyone and everyone and everyone. everyone was shouting and exclaiming and saying things shouto couldn't understand, and then there were arms and hands and legs and arms and hands and legs and arms and legs and hands and touch, touch, TOUCH, too much not enough touch me more too much, more, more, more, too much, TOO MUCH and shouto felt light, so light his breaths weren't coming quite right. they were too, what's the word—shallow? short, shallow, fast, too fast—mm, felt good but so much and shouto was not breathing right, he wasn't—

"you're crowding him!" a familiar rough voice cut through the buzzing air, cut shouto down right to his center, cut him down, cut him down, cut him good arms are good for hugging bakugou. "get the fuck off, give him some damn space will ya? geez, he just got through the door!"

next thing he knew, the arms and hands and legs were withdrawing, followed by chiming apologies, and the warmth moved away. not too far, cause shouto's fingers were still tangled in kaminari's shirt but he wasn't on top of him anymore, was standing in front of him now with a sheepish blush and an apologetic smile.

shouto tried to speak, but he choked. his voice wasn't quite there yet. that was fine, that was fine though, because sero read his half frightened eyes, read his crooked mouth sliding between a frown and a smile and gave him a soft grin.

"midoriya-kun!" he called out, and shouto's heart gave a hiccuping jump at that, pounding, pounding, pound—i want izuku—ing.

then izuku pushed through the crowd, rumpled in his ua uniform, windswept and unkempt like a wild child in fake clothing. he was vibrating like he always did when he was fighting the urge to do something impulsive, like throw himself into the eye of a losing battle or kiss shouto during an important school function or adopt some gap toothed, red eyed kid they found on the dirty streets. his curls resembled a tree's limp branches, forced to bow and twist with the rage of a thunderstorm, and his big eyes were glossy and a little crazed. his hands lay clenched by his thighs, like he was squeezing his desires against his palms, squishing them against his fingertips, except shouto wanted him want izuku wanted his hands on his aching skin, slowly, slowly—i like you, i like everything you do—love me—need you—

"sho, you're back," he breathed, all shaky like his lungs were squeezed too tight. "god, god, you worried me, oh no—" he was rambling all fast and jumbled like when he had anxiety attacks or when he got angry or when he was thinking too much and not saying enough. he reached out for shouto's cheek, and without meaning to, shouto flinched away from him. he hadn't done that in forever i thought it was better must have been because he spent the weekend with his pathetic father just like him nothing to do with izuku can't raise this child anymore—

"oh, sho, sho," izuku implored, and shouto almost keened when he curled his fingers against his cheek, rubbed his thumb against skin, touch me. "you don't look well—well, you don't look—"

"calm down, 'zuku," shinsou reminded him carefully from where he stood, shrouded in the corner, pressed up against the wall. his lilac eyes, endlessly deep and unreadable pierced shouto's, and his breath hitched, stumbling in his soured lungs. "you can't calm shouto if you're freaking out."

"i know, sorry," izuku murmured, shaking his head. he blinked slowly, let out a sluggish sigh. "sorry, i just—i missed you. i was worried. i'm so happy you're okay."

the others voiced their agreement, drawing just a bit closer to shouto, but not close enough to suffocate him.

"todoroki-kun is clearly quite distressed," iida remarked quietly. his arm muscles tensed, resisting moving in their usual chopping motions as to not scare shouto. "before we do anything else, we should try to soothe him after what must have been a harrowing week. shouto, i see you're not wearing one of izuku's sweaters. wearing one might make you feel more at ease. izuku, if you would take shouto to your bedroom to change—"

"yes, of course." izuku agreed. he held out a hand, and though confused as to what exactly was happening, shouto didn't hesitate before slipping his own into izuku's grasp. he followed izuku to his bedroom and sat still on his bed, dazed and fatigued to the marrow of his bones as izuku dug out a long, creamy white fuzzy cotton sweater. he made fast work of undressing shouto, quite used to sharing this sort of intimacy with his boyfriend.

his hands moved evenly as they tugged off his black overcoat and unbuttoned his crisp dress shirt, tugging the sweater over shouto's head and then assisting him in maneuvering his arms into the sleeves. shouto wasn't really in the mood for pants, so izuku just tossed him a pair of small baby blue pajama shorts that disappeared beneath the hem of his sweater. once he was properly dressed, eased by the silken glide of cloud soft fabric against his skin, izuku touched him again. slowly, slowly he grasped his chin in his soft, warm grip, smiled sadly at the sharp intake of breath shouto drew through his teeth at the sudden contact.

"sho," he whispered softly into the small space between them, and the shape of his own name ghosted shouto's lips. he shivered hard as izuku drew a finger along the slope of his jaw, gripping onto izuku's hips with quivering fingers still chilled at the tips. izuku's eyelids dipped. "sho. i love you so much. i wish you never had to go back there ever again. i wish i could protect you. i want to protect you so bad."

shouto hummed. he swayed forward until his brow met izuku's forehead and his warmth tingled the surface of shouto's face, his lips hovering so close, perfect pink and pressing out delicate exhales.

"it's okay," he whispered back, and his voice shook ragged from disuse. "i love you too, it's okay."

and it sort of wasn't, but shouto didn't mind so much at the moment. he felt he could be fine. he could be fine one day. if only izuku would keep holding him like this.

class 1a waited to give out their gifts until after shouto had been properly cared for, rolled up into a bundle of blankets on the sofa cushions with a cup of green tea and at least four hands combing through his hair. once he seemed well enough, talking with everyone as normal and cuddling into izuku's stomach like a kitten seeking heat, momo declared it gift opening time, and gathered everyone around shouto with their shopping bags in hand. some had gone the extra step and wrapped theirs in the leftover wrapping paper from christmas while others had left theirs as it came. shouto looked around at them all with his glass sheen eyes and his soft lids and his parted lips, a small flush to each his cold cheeks and his hand tangled in the fabric of his sweater, breathing slow through his teeth until warmth curled up like a lost lover in the space between his ribs. everyone was looking at him with their ooey gooey eyes and bittersweet grins, and their hands outstretched for him THEY LIKE ME.

they'd gotten him gifts because they missed him, izuku said "we missed you man" kirishima had cried and shouto wasn't sure what to do with that. he was so warmsoftwarmsoft and he loved everyone and they liked him, they LIKED HIM and they bought him gifts because we missed you—worried man—missed you, missed you so much!—and shouto had never really been missed before. he'd never been touched so softly, never been stared at as though he were someone to be thought of and talked about. he'd never been someone people gave gifts to because they were worried.

"you okay?" izuku whispered, laying a hand on his knee. shouto inhaled sharply.

"yeah," he breathed. a watery smile curled at the edge of his mouth, and he placed his palm over izuku's. "yeah, i am, it's just...everyone is so..."

izuku nodded. he understood shouto perfectly well, pressed a warm kiss to his nose.

"okay, okay, me first!" kaminari exclaimed, flapping his hand erratically—his way of expressing his excitement. kirishima chuckled as he stumbled over himself in his haste to reach shouto, plopping himself down at shouto's feet with a grin. kaminari shoved his gift bag into his arms and once shouto had a good hold on it, wrapped himself around shouto's leg like a koala.

shouto removed the white tissue paper stuffed into the top of the shopping bag and pulled out a folded piece of baby blue cotton soft fabric. he held it up to the light, squinting as the hem rolled down to reveal a blown up image of piplup, a penguin pokèmon. one of shouto's favorites.

"it's a piplup sweater," kaminari rambled, squeezing shouto's shin between his arms. "i got in extra, extra, extra large since you like big soft things. piplup is one of pikachu's best friends, so i got it for you cause we're like, the bestest of friends too!"

"cute." shinsou snickered.

"i...i love it..." shouto said, half breathless. his chest felt all swollen, like he'd swallowed a watermelon and it was close to bursting. he looked down and found kaminari's liquid gold eyes already fixed on him, teeming with a faint, barely perceptible anxiety. "i love it, kaminari. thank you."

"aha!" kaminari cheered, bouncing up and down. "he fucking loves it! beat that losers, i'm gonna be todoroki's favorite!"

"like hell you are!" bakugou snarled, bolting upright. "mine is the best gift, try me, sparky!"

kaminari opened his mouth to retort, but kirishima, predicting the chaos that was sure to ensue should the conversation continue, interrupted with a broad laugh.

"alright!" he announced, clapping his hands. "who wants to go next?"

uraraka volunteered eagerly, depositing her gift in shouto's lap with a bubbly giggle. shouto awed as he examined her offering, a pastel pink cardigan with sleeves long enough to fold thrice over his wrists and a hem that would fall down the backs of his thighs. uraraka explained that he could wear it over his uniform shirt, that she was sure aizawa wouldn't mind so long as he kept the rest school's uniform on. he thanked her with a smile, and then opened his hands to receive his next gift. he received a variety of things, so many he didn't even know what to do with them. about a thousand key chains and cutesy plushies from hakagure, a number of bath bombs and herbal soothers from momo, a strawberry milk sweater from jirou, soft, squeezable fidget toys from ojirou, a make up kit from iida, a pair of white and pink striped thigh highs from kirishima—"fuck yes"—"shinsou stop being a pervert"—"hey, i'm not the only one"—and more sweatshirts than shouto could possibly fit in his closet. aoyama gave him a howl's moving castle themed sweater and asked if they could watch it together, which shouto readily agreed to. he even got a pink pleated skirt from tsuyu, who gave him a cheeky smile and declared he would look pretty in it. shouto had been touched by the sentiment, and though he wasn't sure why sero's nose started bleeding when he held the garment to his waist, he thought everyone else liked it too. by the time most of them had given away their gifts, shouto was drowning in piles of bags and fabrics, wonderfully content.

however, shinsou, bakugou, and izuku had yet to reveal their gifts. izuku went first since bakugou was adamant about his gift being last—best for last fuckers—at least that's what bakugou said—and though shouto didn't understand why izuku had felt the need to buy him another gift—he spoiled him so dutifully already—he was touched all the same. the creamy sweater izuku bought for him was insanely soft, and shouto spent a good two minutes brushing the fabric across his scarred cheek and sighing at the smooth glide, much to izuku's amusement. then bakugou huffed and demanded shinsou go already because his sweater was way softer than what fucking deku bought.

shinsou was...confusing. he settled at shouto's other side, squishing himself tight against shouto's side until his jasmine tea scent was making shouto a little sleepy and his lilac curls brushed his skin. izuku shot shinsou some strange, unreadable look as he pushed his gift bag into shouto's hands. shouto frowned, confused by the exchange. he opened his mouth to ask izuku about it—had he missed something while he was away—but then shinsou elbowed him, leaned in until his lips were hovering just above shouto's ear and his breath tickled the surface of his skin.

"open my gift now, sho." he purred, and shouto shivered. he felt izuku's hand tighten around his knee.

spurred on by shinsou's indiscreet nudging, shouto pulled the tissue paper from the bag and pulled out the first item. his lips parted in pleasant surprise.

it was a softsoftsoft lavender sweater the same shade as shinsou's kittenish irises, big and warm and long with loose sleeves and a fluffy neckline wide enough to leave breathing space around his neck. on the front, there was an embroidered picture of a white kitten with sleepy eyes and a blasé frown. cute, cute, cute. shouto smiled, hugged it to his chest with low sigh and fluttering lids.

"nice?" izuku asked teasingly, and shouto hummed, nodding.

"that's not all." shinsou told him, and there was something oddly secretive and silvery about his tone, a drawling stickiness to his low words.

"more than one?" shouto questioned quietly, pinching his brows. he dipped his hand back inside the bag and felt around until his fingers met something else. he pulled out a blush colored choker.

"woah..." he whispered. he ran the pad of his thumb along the fabric, sighed in delight at the sensation of satin beneath his touch. it was lined with white lace too, delicate and intricate designs woven along its edges, and in the center, a little silver bell was attached. when he shook it, the bell swung and gave a small chime. shouto's breath hitched. "pretty..."

"just like you." shinsou's voice hummed against his ear, and shouto startled. what? what what what what what what what what what what—

"what did you say?" he asked because pretty, like me? like me? like me? i'm not pretty, 'zuku's pretty, not pretty, 'zuku's pretty, not pretty, not pretty—what?

"nothing," shinsou answered easily, and from his other side, shouto heard izuku give a small snort. shinsou nudged at shouto's leg with his knee. "there's more. keep going."

shouto obliged, and his fingers found two things. he pulled them from the bag, and as soon as they'd emerged, the room was overflowing with noise. his classmates loosed outcries of shock, gasping into their palms, hissing through their teeth, blushing up to their ears, and izuku was groaning into his hands. he could hear bakugou growling, could hear shinsou's breathless chuckles and kaminari's flustered stammers, but shouto, shouto was just confused. because he was staring at a pair of white cat ears and a tail to match.

his forehead crumpled, mouth dropping in an uncertain frown. he turned to shinsou, tilting his head.

"what's this?" he asked, holding out the odd pair of gifts, and shinsou met his befuddled stare head on with a gaze so intense that it left shouto momentarily winded. his lashes hung low over his lethargic irises like the bow of willow tree branches, and they made him look even more mischievous than normal, further concealed those hidden intentions that shouto couldn't decipher if he tried. he watched as shinsou steepled his long fingers against his chin, touched his plush bottom lip with the tip of a finger and tapped, as though pondering.

"oh that?" he drawled lazily. "i happened to come across them while out shopping for you and i thought they would suit you."

"suit me?" shouto prompted, blinking sluggishly. shinsou cooed, a deep, rumbling sound that made shouto's chest heat up and his stomach burn.

shinsou tapped shouto's nose with one finger. shouto went cross eyed trying to follow it and uraraka whispered something shouto couldn't hear.

"cats are cute," shinsou elaborated simply. "cute and soft and warm...that's how you like to be too right? cute and soft and warm?"

"this is insane." izuku hissed into his palms. shouto hummed, scrunching his nose.

"you got me this stuff because you think i'm...cute?"

shinsou chuckled. he opened his palm to shouto, keeping his fingers perfectly limp as if to demonstrate something hidden within the creases of his palm lines. shouto squinted at it, significantly lost. shinsou was just holding his hand there. like people hold their hands out for handshakes. or like how izuku held his hand out when he wanted shouto to hold it. except, shouto didn't think shinsou was trying to hold his hand, his palm wasn't really positioned for that. then he remembered something kaminari had done with kirishima, a strange action shouto remembered being bewildered by at the time.

oh! he realized. without hesitation, he leaned forward and propped his face against shinsou's palm, allowing the heel of his hand to cradle his jaw and his fingers to caress his cheek. he smiled, internally pleased with himself for figuring out what shinsou wanted. he wasn't usually good with people, usually needed someone to dissect the expression on their face before he could understand what it implied. it sometimes made him feel stupid, but izuku told him that it wasn't his fault, but his father's for keeping him isolated so long. usually, he'd need someone to explain something like this, but he'd figured it out all on his own! and shinsou was smiling now HE LIKES ME, HE LIKES ME and shouto was smiling too, nuzzling into shinsou's touch with a low hum. his eyelids slipped shut as shinsou stroked a slow circle along his cheekbone, pleasantly warm and pleasantly gentle.

"just like a cat," shinsou breathed, scratching lightly at shouto's jaw, and he swallowed down a keen, melting in relief. touch me more, more, more, more, more, more, MORE. "see babe? i don't think you're cute, i know you are."

"the FUCK—" bakugou choked out, but then shinsou hushed him, shooting him a playful wink.

"don't," he warned, and his smirk broadened. "can't you see how relaxed he is?"

"our lord who art in heaven, please fucking kill me." kaminari hissed, yanking at his honey tresses. shouto blinked his hazy eyes back open at the sound of bakugou's reverberating growls. he felt izuku tug at his sleeve.

"sho, you don't have to wear them if you don't want to." he murmured, and when shouto pulled away from shinsou's warmWARM touch touch me more, touch me, TOUCH he was met with an odd sight. izuku was all dusty reds and strawberry cheeks, gnawing on his bottom lip and tugging at his skin with his pinched forefinger and thumb. at first, shouto assumed he was anxious, but then he saw his eyes, and they weren't liquified as though they'd been doused in gasoline and set alight by a forest fire. they were darker, dark like they got when they were alone, and shouto was whispering his name while he laid kisses on his knuckles.

does he want to kiss me now? is that why he's red and dark eyed?

shouto shook his head, deciding that izuku would probably kiss him later, once they were away from everyone else.

"i want to," he told him firmly, and izuku pulled a strange half wince. why does he look like that? i don't think he's upset, but why does he—? "shinsou bought it for me because he thinks i'm cute, so i want to. it would be really rude not to."

"yeah 'zuku, that would be so rude. it would hurt my poor feelings." shinsou chimed in, tucking his chin against shouto's shoulder.

shouto nodded, and turned to shinsou with a small smile.

"thank you for buying me the gift. that was very kind of you."

"no problem, pretty boy." shinsou hummed, and shouto tilted his head, prepared to inquire further into this statement. but bakugou, impatient as ever, snarled and stomped over, practically slamming his feet into the floorboards.

"fuck off shithead!" he spat at shinsou, who simply laughed at the insult. "it's my turn dammit! move the fuck over before i blast you through the wall!"

he shoved shinsou to the side, and he hardly had any time to scramble out of the way before bakugou was slamming himself down aggressively into his seat, almost throwing his gift in shouto's face.

"such elegance, such grace." shouto deadpanned, raising an unimpressed brow, and bakugou scowled at him.

"shut the hell up you half n' half bastard! open the fucking present or i swear to shit i'll beat your ass!"

"i think that defeats the meaning of the gift—"

"shut! up!"

shouto quickly obeyed, as bakugou seemed very close to exploding with his face the color of a fire hydrant and his pointed canines bared and prepared to bite. he removed the wrapping paper layering the gift and handed the scraps to izuku, who chucked them into the nearest trash can. bakugou looked away with a petulant huff.

shouto hummed, exceedingly curious.

the gift in his lap was similar to every other gift he'd received that evening, a folded garment of butterscotch yellow fabric, soft to the touch, knitted just loose enough to hang from shouto's form and billow about his figure. except there was something quite a bit different about this one, though seemingly plain at first glance. izuku helped him hold up the sweater and shouto watched, enraptured, as the fabric tumbled and fluttered about, revealing the entirety of the article.

oh, oh, oh, oh, OH.

shouto's eyes widened, and that watermelon in his chest was pressed to his sides, bloated behind his rib cage, a shell of barely withheld affection. he parted his lips, but ended up mouthing around silence, his tongue tingling between his teeth. without his consent, his blood flooded his face, flooded his cheeks until they burned the same fiery red as the half of his hair, until his neck prickled with phantom touches and his eyes ached.

it had floppy sleeves. at the elbow, a seam encircled the fabric, and after that stitch, the sleeves fanned out, flared so that it would hang limp from shouto's forearms and swish when he moved. such a small thing, he knew, he knew it was such a small thing, but that was what made it so so nice, so nice, so nice, so nice, so nice because ever since pathetic ever since just like him ever since can't raise this child anymore he's never been human a real person in someone's eyes hate you—just like him—can't raise this child anymore—except izuku's and—rough, tough boy, strong and cold and you're so—and recently, class 1a's eyes as well, but he always thought bakugou might hate you, he hates you—strong arms are good for hugging—likes me, likes me? TOUCH ME—thought bakugou might—

"well?!" bakugou demanded, fisting the fabric of his sweatpants. his crimson irises were shivering with something akin to dread, but a little softer, a little lighter, a little more of something shouto didn't understand, and his head was bowed, chin drawn to the dip of his clavicle. his cheeks looked almost cherubic when they were flushed, when he was bleeding sunsets down his face, lips all twisted up. "why the fuck are you staring at me like that?"

he'd always thought bakugou might see him that way too. like his father's experiment. like his fucked up little art project burned up and forsaken. thought maybe that was why bakugou wanted to fight him so bad, wanted him to turn his father's hellfire on him. because if he could defeat shouto, he was proving to the world he could beat endeavor's demon son, his most successful product. he thought, for a time, maybe he really was just a stepping stone for him.

but the sweater in his hands was soft, and bakugou was looking at him, soft, and shouto was sitting there, softsoftsoft as a boy who's mother had loved him, who's father never hit him, who's body could be broken.

"i got you the one with the big sleeves cause you do that weird ass thing when you wave your arms around and flap your sleeves like a bird on crack or some shit, but if you don't fucking want it, just—"

shouto hugged him.

it was clumsy and awkward, as shouto still wasn't used to giving hugs. his hands were fumbling, unsure of where to go, his arms gawky and bent, and with such an unwilling participant, it was hard to find a comfortable position. bakugou kept shoving at his shoulders, snarling curse words against his hair, but shouto was unrelenting. he dug the tips of his fingers into the junctions of bakugou's firm back muscles and clung on for dear life. izuku helped lift him up, grabbing his hips in each hand and pushing him up and onto bakugou's lap, so he was resting on top of bakugou's thick warm thick warm thighs, knees squeezing around his waist.

"get the fuck off!" bakugou screeched, but it was far too late now. shouto had found a comfortable place nestled against him, his face cradled in the space between his neck and shoulder, basking in bakugou's heat, light headed from his aroma. bakugou was so strong so strong he could probably crush me and shouto felt tiny almost dainty in his arms. almost safesafesafe nice.

"thank you." he mumbled into the fabric of bakugou's shirt, a smile slipping onto his lips, and bakugou, at those words, finally seemed to admit defeat. with awkwardly splayed, broad hands, he grasped for shouto's waist his touch, his touch, his touch to hold him steady, grunting in displeasure as shouto pressed closer, burrowing into his chest with a hiccuping sigh and a relaxed hum. distantly, he heard his classmates cackling at the off-putting sight, heard their jeers and teasing remarks and heard bakugou shout at them over his shoulder. but he was happyhappyhappy and so soft.

"this is going on instagram!" mina cried triumphantly and shinsou cackled.

"send that to me mina, please!" kirishima begged, and bakugou tensed in shouto's tight hold.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" he spat, and jirou howled with laughter.

shinsou snapped another photo. "this is gold."

"i'm gonna need this in polaroid."

"does anyone have a polaroid camera?"

"hakagure does!"

"hakagure-kun, go get the camera quick before bakugou breaks free—"

"GO FUCK YOURSELVES!"

"only if you watch me—"

"shinsou!"

shouto grinned.

everyone's so nice.

safesafesafe.

"did you like everyone's gifts?" izuku whispered, nosing at the long slope of shouto's collarbone. his fingers crooked around the crest of his hip, pulled him close until izuku's mouth met his neck and his heartbeat pecked its hummingbird's refrain into the gaps of izuku's ribs too, trilling love confession after love confession after love confession. izuku's hands traced love confession after love confession after love confession into his sensitive skin, spelled out the words they whispered in the dark, when all the world fell silent before them. it was almost hard to think with izuku's hands on him touch me more, but shouto was so happy, so soft, that the sated words fell slurred from his tongue like the after effect of affection's alcohol, the most intoxicating tonic.

"i loved it. i love them."

izuku paused, his fingers stumbling to a halt against the dip of his waist. shouto wasn't often so bold, wasn't often so open. but the night had left him raw, bakugou's heat still simmering beneath his flesh, shinsou's voice still echoing in his ears, the ghost of kaminari's hand on his leg, his mind still victim to the ever-present fog, and he could only think of izuku's lips on his neck, on his neck, on his neck, and how it felt to bathe in attention. to bathe in love remember love to be just shouto.

"i'm so glad." izuku mouthed into the column of his throat, and shouto gasped, a cry in the silence. his toes curled in his socks, and izuku hummed so soft it shuddered through shouto's bones, raised a hand to the curve of his shoulder. a small nudge and the wide neckline was tumbling over, falling beneath his collarbone. izuku trailed a fingertip along his trapezius. shouto's eyes began to ache.

"you're so pretty, sho."

shouto blinked. blinked again but the fall of his lids only seemed to make the aching worse, only seemed to smear the ceiling.

"i—i am?" he choked out, and izuku hummed again, curious. he raised his head and his viridian eyes shone like twin emeralds in the dark, found shouto's face and crinkled at the edges.

"sho, love, why are you crying?"

crying?

he tried to lift a hand, to feel the wetness on his cheek, but he couldn't lift his arm. it was wrapped around izuku, slung around his hips. izuku reached up for him, thumbed at the hot tears flowing from his eyes. his brow pinched in worry.

"sho?"

"i'm just—" he swallowed hard, and izuku stroked his cheek, soothing. a quivering smile tugged at the corners of shouto's mouth, sat shaky on the seam of his lips. but it was genuine. "i'm just so happy."

"oh," izuku sighed, and now izuku looked as though he were going to cry, batting his lashes frantically, capturing shouto's face in his hands. "oh sho, oh my god—"

"i'm happy." he breathed again, and izuku laughed, a watery sound, all fond and warm.

"i know, you're happy, you're happy. oh, i'm so glad you're happy."

"me too," he said, squeezing izuku tight. "i'm glad too. 'zuku?"

"yes, love?"

"thank you."

izuku kissed him, sweet and soft on the lips, sweet and soft, again and again and again.

"happy," he whispered between them, breathed into izuku's mouth. "i'm so happy."

"me too," izuku whispered back. "me too."

"kiss me again."

"i am."

"again."

"sho, love, i am."

and shouto was rough tough boy, strong and cold and you're so—you're so—warm boy, cute and pretty and you're so soft, soft, soft, soft, soft, soft, soft, soft, soft.

// hi lovelies!! how was this one shot? please leave comments telling me your thoughts and feelings!! // i love you so much! you're beautiful and you deserve all the love and happiness in the universe and i want you to know that. // i want you to be treated like angels and to treat yourselves like angels. but i know mental health is long journey and the word can be ugly. you're only human. // don't be so hard on yourselves. and never ever ever use your own pain against you. you are valid. you are not a freak or broken beyond repair. you're hurting and that's okay!! please take care of yourselves, be kind to yourselves, and treat yourselves because you're special and you're worth it. i'm sending you all warm virtual hugs. eat and stay hydrated! love you!! //