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Shouto is bored.
It's not uncommon for him. He finds little enjoyment in most social activities, and the lectures in classes are either of no interest to him or on topics he's already familiar with.
(He also doesn't really want to be a hero. Not anymore. But that's a discussion for later).
So, he's bored. If he were more like his classmates, maybe he would play a mindless game on his phone to pass the time. Maybe he'd try to have a hushed conversation with Momo; he'd be sure to fare better in that than Kaminari and Kirishima do, what with the frequency that Aizawa-sensei calls them out on it.
The thing is: Shouto isn't like his classmates. He never has been. That part was clear from the moment he walked in. He doesn't feel any sort of way about it. They don't matter much to him. They seem nice, he thinks, but he has no desire to follow in the footsteps of any of them.
So, rather than just not paying attention in class— Shouto starts ditching right after homeroom, silently exiting the classroom to wander the halls instead of going to the rest of his classes.
He knows it isn't a great idea. He also can't be bothered to care, most days. He goes to classes when he has tests (and damn near aces all of them, who do you think he is?), but not for much else.
Eventually, after too many close calls with teachers in the hallways—
"Why did you say you were out of class, again?" Hound Dog asks when he finds Shouto once again missing English.
"I had a headache. I was on my way to Recovery Girl." Shouto lies back, deadpan as ever, and begins walking away. He is going opposite the direction of Recovery Girl's office.
—he finds a place to sit rather than walk around aimlessly. Above one of the General Education gyms is an area that probably used to have a purpose, but it's mostly empty now. And dusty, Shouto thinks, after sneezing for the third time in the maybe-five minutes he's been there.
It's not ideal. It's better than classes. He makes it work.
After using the area for a few days to try (and fail) to relax, he decides to spend one whole day cleaning it, and he even skips hero training to do so. That's the class he goes to the most, even though he's not much more fond of it than other classes. He only goes because he enjoys the freedom of being able to use his quirk without the overbearing presence of his father constantly at his back, and hero lessons present the perfect opportunity for that.
Once the dust is mostly cleared out, it's a nice place. He manages to sleep there, sometimes, on days where he's too tired to do much else. Sometimes he likes to spend this time on the Internet, reading about people's obscure theories on a variety of topics.
He particularly likes the theories about Endeavor secretly being in love with All Might, strung together by people who have noticed how excessively he talks about the man. Those ones make him laugh, on occasion.
Most of the time he doesn't do much of anything. He'll sink down on the floor in the corner farthest from the stairs and stare at the wall opposite him, zoning out until it's either time for hero training or time to leave.
He's more lethargic than usual, those days. The gym is always hot, so even without exerting energy he sweats enough to have his shirt clinging to his back, the sensation all that keeps him grounded as he floats in that in between space. Where he's not entirely sure if he's a person.
It can be nice, sometimes. The heat settles atop him like a weighted blanket, and he's able to drift. Moderately uncomfortable, sticky with sweat, and irritated by the constant buzzing of cicadas, yes— but it's pleasant, still. He doesn't have to think about anything of any importance, so he doesn't. He thinks about the cicadas and how long they have to live; he thinks about the wall and how the paint is beginning to peel off of it; he thinks about how he forgot to charge his phone and should probably do that later.
Other times, the quiet is unnerving. The silence allows his brain to run overdrive. Thoughts of his future and his father overcome him, and he has to pace the room just to avoid a break down. Shouto hates those days, but he'd rather be anxious and alone than anxious and in class.
For the most part, though, it's peaceful, if nothing else.
And what is peace meant for, if to be disturbed?
It's on an especially calm day when Shouto is interrupted from his thoughts by a loud noise, making him look over at the stair well from where he is sitting in the corner. Loud, bounding footsteps make their way up the stairs, and he peers curiously at the door when it opens. In walks none other than Bakugou Katsuki, who is perhaps the antithesis of calm and peaceful. He looks bothered by something, but that's normal for him from what little Shouto has seen of him. He absently wonders what he's doing here.
It's not long before Bakugou notices him.
"Oh, so this is where you've been running off to, Icyhot?" he sneers at him.
Shouto just nods. He isn't wrong. "Yes."
Bakugou scoffs and walks up to him. Shouto stays sitting. "What, you think you're better than us? You can just fucking miss class and breeze on by, right?"
Shouto frowns. "I don't think I'm better than you," he turns away from Bakugou, finding his face unnerving. "I just don't like going to class."
Bakugou makes a noise that Shouto can't be bothered to decipher, and then sits next to him, also on the ground.
"So what, you don't like class so you just don't go? That doesn't make any damn sense." He takes out a lunch and begins eating. Shouto is perplexed.
"It makes sense to me… and anyway, isn't that what you're doing right now?" He looks at Bakugou, tilting his head. His expression tells Shouto nothing; he perpetually looks angry, that doesn't mean anything.
He finishes chewing what's in his mouth and glares at Shouto. "Hah? Who do you think I am? No, I just don't want to spend my lunch surrounded by the dumbasses. They piss me off."
Shouto doesn't spend enough time in class to understand the dynamics between students, so he has no idea who Bakugou is talking about. He just nods.
Bakugou looks as if he's disturbed by Shouto for some unknown reason, but he's no more inclined to break the silence. At some point, Bakugou pulls out his phone, gets up, and leaves— presumably back to class— without a word.
Shouto isn't bothered, either way. He's comfortable alone, but Bakugou's intrusion on his solitude is interesting enough.
He catches himself wondering if Bakugou will come back any time soon.
Oh well, he figures. It's not any of his business.
Shouto is quickly confronted by reality. Reality being that— even if it wasn't his business, it becomes his business.
Because Bakugou comes back the next day. Striding right over to the wall opposite Shouto and sitting down, pulling out his lunch as he did the day prior.
Shouto blinks, staring at him but not saying anything. Bakugou is quiet for a surprising amount of time before speaking up.
"What, do you come here just to stare at a wall and shit?" He furrows his brows at him.
Shouto turns to look out the window. "Just now I was staring at you, actually." He turns back to Bakugou. "But usually, yes."
Bakugou looks at him like he did something outlandish, mouth open, before snapping out of his daze and going back to his food. "Don't say shit like that," he says, then adds on absentmindedly, "fuckin' creepy."
Shouto considers asking him exactly why that would be creepy but ultimately decides against it. He isn't sure he wants to know what goes on in Bakugou's mind, to be completely honest. Instead, he goes back to staring out of the window.
Neither one of them seems intent on continuing the conversation, despite Bakugou's incredulous glances in Shouto's direction. At the end of the lunch period, Bakugou leaves. And that's that.
They keep this… routine of theirs up for a good few weeks. Bakugou shows up at lunch, asks Shouto a question (or similarly begins insulting him), Shouto responds bluntly, and Bakugou gets frustrated and the rest of the time is spent in silence.
On days where Shouto can't help but overthink, Bakugou is an anchor he wouldn't have otherwise. The days Bakugou walked in to him pacing were far and few between, and Bakugou never treated him differently no matter his mental state. It was nice, in a quite unexpected way.
Other than the brief deviations from their pattern, it kept up.
Until today.
Today, Shouto wakes up bright and far too early, the sun piercing his eyes in a way he feels has to be targeted. The sun must hate him today, he thinks, as he puts on his uniform haphazardly. There's no other reason for it to be so bright. He wants to glare back at it, but he knows that not only would that be futile—it would also hurt him in turn, so he resigns himself to sighing and going on with his day.
Already grumpy, he decides to forego going to homeroom at all. He figures one full absence won't matter much in the grand scheme of things. If Endeavor has the time or resolution to bother checking his attendance and is pissed about it… then that's a problem for future Shouto.
He swiftly makes his way to the gym, not wanting to be stopped by the teachers, and is frankly a little worn by the time he arrives. It's not even 8 in the morning yet, cut him some slack.
Upon opening the door, however, he is greeted by an unexpected and unfamiliar scene. Or maybe you expected it—he certainly didn't, because sitting in the corner farthest from the stairwell is none other than Katsuki Bakugou, not looking up from the book in his hand.
Shouto lets the door shut behind him and steps in, walking until he's only a few steps in front of Bakugou.. He decides to say something to Bakugou— not quite an invitation for conversation, just an observation. "You're here earlier than usual." Bakugou startles, dropping his book into his lap and letting out an array of curses.
"Yeah? And what fucking of it, Icyhot? Got a problem?" He picks up his book and sends a glare at Shouto.
Shouto simply says, "No, I was just pointing it out," before sitting down next to Bakugou— much closer than Bakugou would normally sit next to him. Bakugou makes a face at him and asks, "What the hell are you doing?"
Shouto hums. "Sitting," he says, followed by, "What are you reading?"
And because, clearly, neither of them know how to answer questions like normal people, Bakugou asks a question in lieu of answering.
"What's it to you?"
Shouto pulls his knees to his chest and rests his head on them, glancing sideways to Bakugou. "It's my turn to ask questions now, right? Since you got here first?"
"The fuck's that supposed to mean?" Bakugou seems like he's trying to look menacing. Shouto thinks he looks more akin to a flustered cat.
"You ask me questions," he points out, as if stating the obvious.
"Yeah, I'm making conversation! Like normal people do." Bakugou near shouts back, much too loud given their proximity. The tips of his ears are faintly red, Shouto notices. It feels important for him to notice that, he thinks, but he doesn't know why.
"I'm making conversation, then." Shouto says, and repeats his question from earlier. "What are you reading?"
"Tch," Bakugou grumbles in annoyance, glaring at Shouto in a futile attempt to get him to back off. "I'm reading Pride and Prejudice, alright? Now can you go back to— whatever it is you do here, because I don't even fucking know— and let me read in peace?"
"Of course," Shouto replies, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander.
He doesn't plan on going to any classes at all today, unwilling to explain his absence from homeroom. Especially to Aizawa Sensei. He might actually get in trouble, if he did that.
That leaves his options for the rest of the day more narrow than normal. But then he remembers that Bakugou is here, and he's not supposed to be here, which means his day will probably look much different from his usual, anyhow.
"Why are you here so early, anyway? You never skip class," he questions to quell his curiosity.
"Didn't I tell you to can it?" Bakugou turns the page, not looking up.
"Not in such terms."
"Well maybe I just didn't want to go to class, you ever think of that?"
Shouto frowns. "That's what I told you I was here for; you said it was stupid."
Bakugou rolls his eyes. "Yeah. It is. Get used to it."
Shouto doesn't know what to make of that, but he has no further reason to question Bakugou's motives for being here. If he has anything to say— he will. Shouto has no desire to push him. He lays on his back, mapping out patterns in the ceiling in relative silence for the rest of the day. Bakugou gives him some of his lunch. He stays all day, a first for him.
He is certainly odd company. Shouto doesn't hate it.
So, they form a new pattern. Most of the time, Bakugou still only shows up at lunch, but on occasion he'll stay for the whole day— usually to read. They ask questions to each other before falling into a comfortable silence.
It's nice, Shouto thinks, as he watches Bakugou through drooped eyes. Being around Bakugou makes him content. He feels settled, grounded, relaxed enough to sleep.
Bakugou acts different here, compared to how Shouto has seen him act during class. He's still the same brash , abrasive person he always is. But he's also softer. He's quiet as he reads, though every so often he'll react to something in his book, scoffing at the stupidity of the characters.
He's kind to Shouto, too, in his own way. He may insult him on a regular basis, but he also regularly brings Shouto food.
While Shouto is pondering on all of these things— the multitudes of Bakugou Katsuki— he doesn't notice when Bakugou stops reading, staring back at him in favor of his current book. After a few minutes without hearing the repetitive sound of a page turning, Shouto blinks out of his daze and finds himself making direct eye contact with Bakugou.
He has to actively prevent his quirk from flaring up. This happens often, but it still brings him embarrassment from time to time. After a moment or so, he looks away. Bakugou begins to speak.
"Hey, tell me something."
Shouto looks back at him, "Hm?"
"Why do you…" Bakugou lifts a hand and gestures in Shouto's general direction, making a face, "zone out all the time? Or whatever the fuck it is you're doing."
Shouto hums. "I'm not sure. It's comfortable."
Bakugou rolls his eyes. "Yeah, okay, but why do you always stare at me when you do it? Wall too boring for you all of a sudden?"
Shouto is a bit surprised by this observation, as he hadn't noticed it himself. Though, thinking back on it, he supposes it is true that he's been looking at Bakugou more often than not, lately.
"Does the staring bother you?" He asks, voice a tad quieter than usual. He quite likes looking at Bakugou, for some reason, and isn't keen on stopping. But if he asked him to, he would.
His ears are tinged red again, Shouto notices as Bakugou sputters out his response. "No it doesn't bother me, Icyhot. I just wanted to know if you had a damn reason for it, or if you were just being weird."
Ah. Well that makes sense, Shouto figures. Many people find his mannerisms— and especially his staring— weird, it's not much of a surprise that Bakugou's one of them. Except— where with other people he'd move on and be fine— for some reason he doesn't like that Bakugou finds his staring weird. No, he doesn't like it at all, he decides.
"Oi! Stop doing that." Bakugou's voice tears him from his thoughts.
"Doing what?" Shouto isn't sure what he's talking about. That happens a lot.
"Coming up with your own ideas instead of just asking me about whatever shit's bothering you," Bakugou says, a glare on his face.
Oh. That's… nice of him, Shouto thinks. Odd— but most things about Bakugou are. "Okay," and, true to his word, proceeds to ask, "you think my staring is weird?"
Bakugou stops his glaring and instead just looks confused. "What? No— I don't," something must have shown on Shouto's face, then, because when Bakugou looks at him, his tone softens. "I don't think your staring is weird, Icyhot. It's just you."
It's just you repeats in Shouto's head. Bakugou looks mildly irritated, and the flush in his ears has moved to his face, which Shouto is suddenly overcome by the urge to touch.
Ignoring his wants, he responds, quietly elated. "Oh. Thank you."
Bakugou makes a noise and looks away. "Yeah, yeah, don't let it get to your head. You're still stupid."
Shouto hums in response and lets his head settle against the wall, warmth coursing through his body. He drifts off.
When he wakes up, Bakugou is still there, reading, and he smiles.
A week passes, two. Shouto grows to enjoy Bakugou's company more by the day. He's not easy to talk to, but in an odd sort of way… it's comfortable. That's quite fitting for Shouto, really. He's been known to take comfort in odd things.
Today's one of the days when neither of them bothered with going to class at all. Class B had hero lessons today, so there wasn't much point. They can both pull their own weights in other classes anyway.
Shouto glances at Bakugou, noting that he was only a few pages from the end of his book. He thinks maybe they could do something, go somewhere, but it's not exactly easy to get off of UA property. But even so…
"Bakugou," he lets out softly, cautiously, curiously—continuing when he looks up at him sharply. "We should go to lunch."
Bakugou gawks, redness reaching his ears once again. "And how are we gonna get off UA grounds, dumbass?"
"Not today, but… couldn't we just skip?" Shouto asks a blushing Bakugou.
Today, they're sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. This rare closeness is part of what emboldened Shouto to ask in the first place. He can smell the sweet scent of nitroglycerin coming off of the other boy.
Bakugou huffs. "You wanna go out for lunch, Icyhot?"
Shouto feels his cheeks burn. He doesn't know what it is about the question, but he's suddenly very nervous. He nods.
Bakugou lets a broad grin make its way onto his face.
"Then let's go out to lunch. Tomorrow. I'll text you where." He says it with so much confidence that Shouto finds himself nodding along absentmindedly. Except—
"You don't have my number."
Bakugou is still grinning. Wide and arrogant and proud. It distracts Shouto, a bit.
"You're right."
Oh.
"Are you asking for my number?" Shouto asks after a moment.
"And if I am, Icyhot?" Bakugou retorts, confident, so confident, it makes Shouto feel small.
"Then I'd give it to you."
Bakugou turns pink again, looking down as if reading his book (Shouto can clearly see that he is on the references page). "Then I say you give me your number, Icyhot, and we can go out for lunch.
Shouto flushes. It's much too hot in this room, he thinks. They're much too close. He can hardly think.
"Okay." Shouto manages.
He likes this… whatever they have. He likes being able to exist with Bakugou in a space that is so removed from the rest of the world. But he thinks he'll like to be with him outside of this room, too.
Because the truth is, really, Shouto just likes Bakugou.