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Chapter Text

The complete shitstorm began one drab Wednesday afternoon. An algebra exam on exponential expressions was coming up, and while the material came easily enough for Katsuki, the same could not be said for a certain shitty redhead. A certain persistent shitty redhead, who had the absolute worst pouty-face and the tendency to use flattery to get what he wanted, whether the guy realized it or not. And that’s how Katsuki had inexplicably found himself roped into yet another tutoring session with Kirishima Eijirou.

“Nope, nope, stop,” Katsuki pointed at the worksheet, jabbing the equation impatiently a couple of times with his finger. “See, that exponent’s negative.”

“Ri-ight...” Kirishima paused. He tapped the end of his pencil to his mouth, and it didn’t help when he did shit like that because it was really fucking distracting. “Uhh, what does that do again?”

“You need to flip the fraction in the parenthesis.”

“Okay, yes, I knew that. Just making sure.”

The past hour or so had been like this. To be fair, the whole situation could have been a lot more unbearable. Tutoring Kirishima wasn’t the worst thing Katsuki could do with his time, and it wasn’t like Kirishima was an idiot. The guy had the basics premise down, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy figuring things out. It was math that was the problem, and when all the steps were combined together, Kirishima would get overwhelmed. Then he’d start second guessing himself, looking lost and confused because he’d have no idea where to start.

It was whenever that started happening that Katsuki found himself wanting to bang his head against a wall.

The redhead’s pencil scratched against the paper, his eyebrows furrowed deep in thought, sharp teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, and for a fleeting moment, Katsuki wondered how he wasn’t breaking skin. There he worked, writing furiously, the occasional eraser shavings flying this way and that.

After about a minute, Kirishima set his pencil down and lifted his head, his mouth breaking into a sheepish grin, almost apologetic. “I think I did alright on this one?” The way his voice went up at the end told of his uncertainty. He slid the worksheet over to Katsuki. “There are just so many little rules to remember and I always end up confusing myself.”

“If you’re bad at math, then you just gotta work your ass off even more to get it down.” He snatched the paper, eyes skimming over the chicken-scratch. “This is right, by the way.”

“Oh thank God,” Kirishima heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “It’s like what Crimson Riot said. Perseverance leads to victory!”

“It fucking better,” Katsuki mumbled under his breath, because at this point, he wasn’t so sure.

“I should have started coming to you way earlier, you’re super smart about this type of stuff!” Kirishima turned to him, beaming, and there was a pattering in Katsuki’s chest, that annoying one that he always happened to notice every time Kirishima smiled. “But seriously, bro, you’re a lifesaver. I’ve been really stressing.”

“You don’t fucking say.” The sarcasm was nearly palpable.

‘Stressing’ was the goddamn understatement of the century. Kirishima had practically dogeza-ed right there in the dorm common space, begging for his help. And even now, Katsuki wasn’t sure what had compelled him to say yes. Wasn’t sure what always compelled him to say yes, every single fucking time Kirishima asked for tutoring. Maybe it was just how goddamn persistent the guy was, and at this point, Katsuki had resigned himself to this fate.

“Think I can get the next one right by myself?”

And there it was again. He was so damn persistent, and determined, about everything, even when trying meant he would probably fail. And maybe Katsuki was starting to admire that about him.

So he shrugged. “You can certainly try.”

“Sweet~!”

Immediately, Kirishima set off to work, his pencil scribbling frantically across the worksheet, writing in numbers, and scratching out mistakes. Occasionally, when he had to think about what to do next, Kirishima would tilt his head to the side, bring the pencil to tap against his temple, the tip of his tongue sticking out like he was so deep in thought that he had forgotten about it.

Meanwhile, Katsuki waited, as patiently as he could.

Finally, Kirishima held up the paper with a triumphant “Done!” He slammed the worksheet down in front of Katsuki, his grin spreading from ear to ear, teeth practically sparkling. “How’s this?”

Katsuki glanced over the equation. It was actually one of the more difficult ones, with a lot of steps and rules to consider, and for a split second, he was impressed that Kirishima would choose this one to work on alone.

“So…?”

“Fucking, give me a second,” Katsuki murmured. He worked out the problem to the side in pen, just in case, and to his complete and utter satisfaction… it was actually correct. As if the past hour and a half hadn’t been a complete waste of time.

And in that moment, pride overtook him. Kirishima had listened to him. He had learned, done it all on his own, and it didn’t even matter how long it had taken for them to get to this point because the result was just so goddamn satisfying.

Katsuki looked up to Kirishima, who was carefully watching him, practically bouncing in his seat like a little kid.

He rolled his eyes. “Fucking took you long enough, ya moron.”

Kirishima let out a loud cheer, hands in the air, pencil flying, a look on his face of pure triumph. He turned to Katsuki with a smile on his lips, eyes twinkling. And if Katsuki had to pick the turning point, the fulcrum, the exact moment where everything started going to shit, this would be it.

Katsuki knew what was about to happen. He could see it unfold before his very eyes, practically in slow-motion, like some sort of intuition, and his dumb ass still didn’t bother to think of getting out of the way until it was too late. Kirishima had leaned forward and wrapped him up in a big hug.

Now, Katsuki fucking hated it when Kirishima pulled shit like this. He hated physical contact in general, from anyone, but with Kirishima it was about ten times worse because something about it made Katsuki feel like he had been missing out on that sort of thing his entire life. Like he had been ignoring starvation for so long that his body was soaking it in, absolutely relishing it, his heart ramming too quickly in his chest, cheeks heating up, palms sweating, and he didn’t understand why. Maybe that’s what he hated the most about it.

“Oi, you fucker—”

“Yes! Yes, I did it! I actually got it, thank you, Bakugou!” Kirishima practically squealed, his celebratory shouts drowning out all protests from the blond, his arms winding tighter around him, and Katsuki felt like his lungs were going to collapse in on themselves, “There’s no way I’m gonna fail this test now! I’ll do you proud, just you see!”

“Yes, right, good, whatever,” he wheezed, grabbing onto Kirishima’s forearm with smoking hands, “Now get the fuck off of me.”

“Right, sorry, sorry,” Kirishima pulled away before Katsuki could bring out the pyrotechnics. He plopped back in his chair, spinning it around in celebration, “But, god that felt good! Ya know?”

In a way, Katsuki did know, because in that moment, he felt something too, something other than pride. He had felt it a few times already, here and there, on and off, but it was still jarring no matter how many times it had happened before. It was like he was suddenly hyper aware of his own heartbeat, and his breathing, and the way his stomach was tightening, twisting into knots, fluttering. Usually, he ignored the feeling, pushed it to the back of his mind, because it didn’t matter. And it normally wasn’t too difficult a thing to do.

Except that Kirishima was just so fucking happy. And for some goddamn reason, that made Katsuki really fucking happy as well.

His insides started churning, his heart like it wanted to shrivel up on itself.

He wanted Kirishima to be happy like this. All the time.

The feelings, they were too much, everything was too much, they made his head foggy, skin clammy, his chest squeezing so tightly by his pounding heart, his ribcage like it was being stuffed with cotton, and Katsuki thought he was going to suffocate. He grasped at his chest, taking in a slow, steady breath. A breath that stung his airways all the way down to his lungs.

“Hey…?” Kirishima piped up, but it was like his voice wasn’t in focus. It sounded all fuzzy around the edges. “You look kinda pale, are you okay? Bro?”

And then, all at once, those feelings in his chest became stronger, amplified in a way he had never felt before. There was a stinging in his heart and in his lungs and everywhere else, his insides like they were physically contorting. A cough started, deep in his throat, his diaphragm lurching so much with each contraction that he felt like he was actually going to be sick.

He bolted to Kirishima’s bathroom, nearly tripping over his own two feet, barely managing to close the door behind him before hunching over the toilet. And it was like he needed to cough, or needed to be sick, all at the same time. His eyes were shut so tight that he could see waves of white, and he was hacking his lungs out so much that his throat felt like it was raw, as bile and god knows what else was forced out of his mouth.

And then, the coughing subsided. He wiped away the tears that had stung the corners of his eyes, sat back on his heels, taking the few seconds he needed to gasp air back into his lungs. Exhaling a shaky breath, he ran his hands down his face before glancing into the toilet basin.

He froze in wide-eyed horror.

There were petals. Like actual, literal flower petals, just floating in the water.

“What the fuck?”

There was a soft knock on the door. “Hey, dude, are you ok? Do you need water or something?”

The door handle twisted, and before Katsuki could even think, he flushed toilet. Because whatever the fuck that was, was not something that Kirishima needed to see. Or anyone else, for that matter.

As the door opened, Katsuki stood up, wiping his mouth, his voice coming out hoarse. “I’m… I’m fine.” His legs were shaking. And when his eyes landed on Kirishima, he almost felt like he was going to be sick all over again. But he forced it down.

Kirishima gave him a once-over, his brow creased in concern, as if he couldn’t decide how to be the most helpful. “Do you need me to take you to the Recovery Girl? I don’t think she’s left for the night yet—”

“No.” It came out more forceful than he had intended, but Katsuki could not think straight, his head was still spinning. Why did he feel so dizzy? Why was his chest in pain? What the fuck were those petals?  “No, I must have just, fucking, eaten something that was bad. I’m fine now.” He cleared his throat. “I swear, they’re feeding us poison at this school.”

Kirishima laughed at that, but it was a little forced. The guy was still worried. “Yeah, well I trust the Lunch Hero, so maybe you’ve been snacking on something in your room that’s expired?”

Katsuki grunted, neither in denial or agreement. He pushed past Kirishima and made his way back to the desk. “Let’s get back to work. Ya gotta show me your correct answer wasn’t a fluke or something.”

Kirishima trailed behind him, his concern seemingly already forgotten. “Yessir!”

Well, whatever it was, it seemed to have passed. But as he and Kirishima studied, and as his heart continued to flutter and his lungs continued to squeeze, Katsuki couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that something was really fucking wrong.

The second time it happened was during school break the next day. The teachers were switching classrooms, so everyone was eating snacks, socializing, being complete and utter fucking nuisances. Meanwhile, Katsuki had just been minding his own damn business, listening to his ear-buds so he didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone. The usual.

There was a burst of laughter from his right. He turned sharply to the culprits – the pink girl must have just cracked a joke, and great, now half the goddamn class was having a jolly fucking time. But above all the others' laughs stood out one, so obnoxious and so loud that he could make it out over his music. Katsuki glared at the offending redhead, whose laugh was so strong that he was practically doubling over on himself from the sheer force of it. But, it was lively, hearty, all dimples and teeth – just an all-around genuine, strong laugh, and for a split second, Katsuki found himself wondering what he could do to make Kirishima laugh like that.

It wasn’t as powerful this time, just starting as a tickle in the back of his throat, the slight floral scent in his nose, so slight that he didn’t even notice it at first. But it quickly escalated, and next thing Katsuki knew, his heart felt like it was pressing in on itself, tightening, restricting its own beating, a cough rumbling from his chest, shit, not this again.

Katsuki hid his mouth into his inner elbow as he hacked into it, the beginnings of the petals already starting to escape. He wrenching himself from his seat, practically skidding across the room, not caring whose eyes trailed curiously after him. He burst into the hallway, barely missing a collision with Present Mic as he bolted to the bathroom and promptly coughed up in the nearest stall.

Sure enough, there were petals. Not as many as the first time, but the sight was still really fucking disturbing, and Katsuki couldn’t help but stare for what was probably far longer than necessary. They were large, a deep red, rose petals. Honestly, what the fuck was even happening? He stood to his feet, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, leaning against the stall wall until his head stopped swimming.

It was probably just the side effect of some shitty quirk. Like that girl from Class 1-B or something. Katsuki wasn’t certain of the details, but he was pretty sure her quirk had something to do with plants. He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t be bothered to remember. If it was a quirk, it would probably just wear off on its own anyways.

The next time it happened was right before that afternoon’s training.

They were supposed to be doing 3v3 battles in some alleyway setting, but Katsuki didn’t even make it that far.

Most everyone had put on their costumes and were congregated in the gym area, stretching, warming up for the upcoming fights. Katsuki had just wrapped up his standing routine and had taken a seat on the floor, legs stretched in front of him at a ninety-degree-angle. He bent at the waist, arms stretched in front of him, meeting his left knee with his nose, exhale.

Just then, the door to the boy’s locker room opened, and out came the tape guy and Kirishima. Kirishima, with his fucking stupid shoulder gear things, and his face mask that honestly looked a bit painful, and his weird skirt cape that had literally no purpose whatsoever. The guy was fucking ridiculous. And Kirishima’s eyes scanned the gym mats in front of him, surveying his stretching classmates, his eyes making contact with Katsuki’s. The redhead smiled, beamed, gave a little wave. He left Tape Guy’s side, walking as if to sit next to him.

This time, Katsuki could sense it coming a mile away. He could feel his heart rate pick up, could feel his lungs aching already, as if they knew that they would soon be in need of air. He could feel the tingling, stinging, tickling feeling in his throat that always triggered a cough. But just because he knew it was coming didn’t make it any better.

The last thing Katsuki wanted to do was bring attention to himself when he was in this state. As he stood and more or less rushed his way back to the locker rooms, he tried his best to be discrete. Tried his best to ignore how Kirishima’s voice called after him, filled with concern. But once the door closed behind him, Katsuki sprinted to the bathroom.

And as he kneeled, coughing over the toilet once again, hand on his abdomen, breath coming in uneven, shaky gasps, head spinning so much that he felt like he could faint, the thought occurred that he should probably see the nurse. Katsuki couldn’t afford to waste time on shit like this. He was supposed to be learning how to kick villain’s asses, not dealing with this absolute fuckery. But, on the other hand, if word got out that he was coughing up rose petals, and that it was getting in the way of his training, who knows how the UA faculty would treat him? If it was starting to affect his respiratory system, they might force him to lighten up on physical activity until the effects wore off. He couldn’t allow himself to fall behind like that.

Katsuki flushed the toilet. Then, he listened carefully to his surroundings – not a sound. He let out a shaky sigh of relief. Seems he was alone after all. It was better that way, with no one there to look down on him at him all worried, no one to tell Eraserhead that he had just been coughing up in a bathroom stall. He just needed to get back out there, start the training exercise, and hope that this would all just go away.

If it really was just someone’s stupid quirk, the effect would have to wear off eventually. He could work it out by himself, no need to get anyone involved. But – and his stomach sank at the thought – the last thing he wanted was for the coughing to get worse.

In that moment, as Katsuki exited the stall, he made a decision: if whatever this bullshit was, was still happening by the time the weekend rolled around, then maybe it would be in his best interest to get it checked out.

What this all boiled down to was a waiting game. If waiting was all it could take to fix the problem, then it was something that Katsuki was willing to put up with. He just hoped it would all stop sooner than later. He was fucking sick of the taste of flowers.

That same afternoon during the training exercise, it happened again. And again, when he was returning to the dorm common space after dinner. Another time that Friday morning when he woke up. Then scattered throughout the day, during a break, at lunchtime, even once during a class, making Aizawa ask him if he needed to go to Recovery Girl. But he hadn’t waited long enough yet, so with ears burning in embarrassment, Katsuki had refused.

Sure enough, later that evening, Katsuki was mentally kicking himself for not agreeing to see the nurse when he had the chance, because now she was off campus for the weekend while he was coughing up petals into a toilet for the ninth time that day.

Needless to say, it hadn’t stopped. If anything, it was getting worse, just based on sheer number of incidences alone.

And then it was Saturday morning, birds chirping, the young sunlight gently flitting through the window, and Katsuki was kneeling over his toilet, hacking from his lungs, petals falling from his lips. And it hurt. His throat was raw, his diaphragm ached, his eyes stung, and there was this nagging in his brain, making him come to a conclusion that he had been avoiding for most of the week.

Quirk effects usually don’t last this long. This was something new. He couldn’t keep ignoring it.

Finally, when it felt like the coughing fit was subsiding, he grabbed his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen for just a moment, hesitating. But Katsuki wasn’t an idiot. Sure, he didn’t like help when he didn’t need it, but he was smart enough to know when he did need help, and he definitely needed help now. So he gave in, unlocked the phone. Called the one person he could think of to call.

He counted the rings, until finally there was a click followed by a sleepy voice on the other end. “Mmh? What’s up, kiddo?”

“I feel like shit.”

His mother sighed. “Katsuki, it’s six in the morning—”

“No, I’m serious, I—” Katsuki had just barely managed getting his phone out of the way in time for him to kneel over the toilet, another wave of petals forcing their way from his lungs and out his mouth. He hacked and coughed, cheeks burning, the insides of his ribcage like they were contorting, until it finally relented. “Fuck. I think I’m really sick.”

There were whispers on the other end – Katsuki could make out deeper voice, ‘maybe the flu?’, and fucking great, now his dad was getting involved. When his mom’s voice came back on the line, she sounded a lot more alert. “Are you throwing up? Do you have a fever?”

“It’s not the goddamn flu, it’s…”

He peered down at the bowl, with water and floating petals, roses, deep red. How could he explain something like that? And over the phone? His lungs still burned, his breaths raspy.

“It’s complete bullshit is what it is,” he finally managed to gasp out, bringing a hand to wipe at his singing eyes.

“Do you need me to take you to a doctor?”

A doctor’s visit was the last thing Katsuki wanted. But his egotistical need to work through his problems by himself was kinda being shat on by his profound need to know what the fuck was going on. What else was he supposed to do?

“Yeah,” is all he mumbled.

Of all people, his mom would know what degree of severity it takes to get Katsuki to accept help. Her voice turned grave. “I’m getting out of bed now. Be ready in 20 minutes. I’ll deal with the school.”

“Ma’am, your son has developed a condition called Hanahaki Disorder.”

It was bullshit. All of it.

Trees and cars and buildings flew by, and his eyes trailed after them all. Even still, he could feel his rage boiling inside of him. They pulled up to a stop light, and he heard his mother sigh, which always happened right before she opened her goddamn mouth, and frankly Katsuki didn’t want to hear a single word of what she had to say.

For a few seconds, her finger just tapped the steering wheel in time with the turn signal. She took one more breath.

“You caused quite a scene back there, kiddo.”

Katsuki clenched his jaw and kept quiet, waiting for them to start driving again. At least when they were moving, the whizzing scenery was a distraction.

“Seriously. Firing off your quirk, threatening the doctor, in a ward full of extremely vulnerable people? Not a smart move, you’re lucky they didn’t sedate you or something.”

When they picked up speed, he tried to read each road sign as they passed, count to ten forwards and backwards, anything to occupy his mind. Usually, he didn’t bother with those fucking stupid anger management techniques, but his previous outburst had made him face his mother’s wrath once that day, and he was too fucking exhausted to deal with it a second time.

“Katsuki…” his mom tried again when he didn’t answer, because that’s exactly the type of insufferable woman that she is. “Look, I know it’s weird, and maybe even scary, and uncomfortable—”

“Uncomfortable? What gave you that idea?” He snapped. His heart rammed in his chest, his anger seethed. “Is it the fact that I cough up fucking flowers, all the fucking time, like it’s a fucking thing to do? Is that what gave it away?” He turned back to the window, shook his head. “You don’t know shit, so stop acting like you do.”

“Watch the sass, punk, I’m being empathetic here.”

That didn’t even warrant a reply, so he just tched.

His mother sighed again, as if she wanted to say something else. As if every silence was some fucking invitation for her to share her shit opinion. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. Then, her voice turned quiet.

“Do you know who it is?”

Katsuki didn’t know how to respond at first. He just blinked. Then, he turned sharply toward her, eyes raging with fire. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what the doctor said, Katsuki.”

Yeah, unfortunately. As if he would believe any of that horse shit. He couldn’t stop the growl that built in his throat.

“He’s wrong.”

“He’s a professional.”

“That don’t mean jack shit.”

His mom laughed at that. “Listen, ya brat, I’d take his medical advice over yours any day. Just because you don’t like his answer—”

“He literally doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about.”

“Oh really? Cause it sounds to me like you’re the one who’s clueless, and if you’d just pay attention to your own feelings for once, then you’d really be doing yourself a huge favor here.”

“He doesn’t know me, and neither do you, so fucking drop it.”

“Holy hell, kid,” she huffed, shaking her head in disbelief, her eyes set on the road ahead. “Sometimes talking with you feels like banging a head against a wall, ya know? For one, I know you’re stubborn – god do I know it. And if you’re perfectly happy with sealing yourself off from the rest of the world, not confronting the root of the problem, and living the rest of your life barfing up flowers every time you so much as get butterflies in your stomach, then by all means, be my fucking guest.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“But I am your mother, Katsuki.” With that, she turned to look at him, for just a moment, her eyes intense. She turned away. “I’d say between the three of us, I’ve got you figured out the most. And believe it or not, as your mother, I want you to get better. And so does Dr. Yamakawa, it’s his fucking job. Why can’t you seem to get that?” She raised an eyebrow, her lip upturning slightly. “Too stubborn?”

This was not a battle worth fighting, so “whatever” was all Katsuki grumbled before glaring back out the window.

The atmosphere became still, the only sound the rumble of the car motor and the occasional shifting of gears.

“Well, maybe when you figure out who it is, you can hang out with them more? Give yourself some opportunities?”

Rage, pure rage was boiling in him. “No, we are not having that fucking conversation.”

“Oh yes we are,” his mom responded snappily. “You gotta face your emotions at some point, kiddo. Don’t be arrogant, the doctor even told you the only thing that can cause the disorder.”

He couldn’t forget the doctor’s words even if he tried. They echoed around in his head, lingering there.

He screwed his eyes shut, bringing his hands to cover his ears. “Shut up! Shut up, I’m not—”

 ‘A person who is susceptible to developing Hanahaki Disorder is someone who experiences a deep love—’

“—I’m not, fucking, in love, or whatever—”

His stomach lurched.

In love.

An image flashed through his mind – a cheery face, a glistening smile, bright eyes. Shitty hair.

No.

His insides were fluttering, chest hurting, his lungs aching from pressure, and he was coughing again, hacking deep in his rib cage, enough to sting the back of his throat and make his diaphragm throb from the exertion. And there was a floral scent in his nose, a disgusting taste in his mouth, and two damp petals fell into his lap.

“Katsuki—?”

His fist slammed against the dashboard. “I said shut up!” he gasped between breaths. He buried his face in his hands, hoping to hide any of the stinging tears that might be hanging from the edge of his waterlines. “Just shut up.”

The car parked – were they finally home? – and there was a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles as he wheezed out a few labored breaths.

There they sat for the several moments that Katsuki needed to recover. His mother just patted his back, whispering soft words that he couldn’t even make out under her breath, but something about the faint sound was comforting. It reminded him of when he was a kid, sick with a cold, or crying because he had hurt himself, and as much as he hated to admit it even in his own mind, it really did help. It lulled him into a calm trance, just like it always had.

After a few minutes, his mother took her hand away and passed him a tissue. “Your medicine will be at the pharmacy sometime Monday,” she finally spoke. “Until then, you’re staying at home for the weekend. Okay?”

Katsuki nodded. He was numb.

“And – hey, look up at me, okay?” His mom brought her fingers under his chin, lifting his head. She saw his face, all red and blotchy, and she didn’t laugh. She never laughed at him when he looked like this. “If you ever need to talk about things, like how you feel, or anything else that’s bothering you, your dad and I will stay right here, at home for you. We’re gonna help you get through this. Okay?”

He set his jaw and said nothing.

“Alright, kiddo, let’s get lunch made,” his mom ruffled his hair before opening her car door and stepping out. “You chop the veggies, if we hurry, it’ll be ready by the time Dad gets back from his photo-shoot.”

If Katsuki needed to find a good distraction from this absolute hellweek, cooking was definitely it. Whenever he had a tantrum as a child, his parents would ask for his help preparing dinner, and he usually calmed down. Ever since then, cooking had a sort of cathartic effect on him. Chopping things up, it was relaxing, and at this point, his muscles could go through the motions without much thought.

“You almost done with the cabbage?”

Katsuki hummed, bringing the knife down a few more times before handing the cutting board to his mom, who scraped the strips of veggies into the pan so they could join the chicken. She handed back the board, motioning absentmindedly to a few carrots on the counter, which he set to work on.

There were heavy footsteps approaching the back door, and then his dad strolled in, the door slamming behind him. “Hey, I’m back.”

Both Katsuki and his mom mumbled an obligatory ‘Welcome home’.

His dad let out a relieved sigh, surveying the domestic scene in front of him as he toed out of his shoes. He stepped into the kitchen and looked over Mom’s shoulder, placing a hand on her hip. “Smells good.”

“Mmm, yakisoba.”

Katsuki wanted to hurl, for real this time. Seriously, he was standing right there, and he had eyes and everything.

“So what’s the diagnosis?” Dad walked past Katsuki on his way to the kitchen table, ruffling his hair as he did. Katsuki’s grip on his knife tightened, just a bit. “You dying already? Although if it’s the flu, I advise you to step away from the food.”

His mom turned, pointing her spatula at Katsuki’s dad with a hand on her hip. “Your son is barfing up flowers.”

“He’s…?” His dad trailed off, blinking in surprise. “Well, that doesn’t sound like the flu at all.”

“No shit,” Katsuki muttered under his breath. He handed his mom the cutting board again so she could add the carrot, and then he started on the onion.

“I mean I knew it probably wasn’t the flu since you wanted to wait for me to get home to talk about it, but what?”

His mom stirred the pan a few times, poking her spoon at the cabbage as it wilted. “Doctor called it the Hanahaki disease or something. Apparently it’s pretty rare. Says it’s nothing too serious though, as long as it is treated. He sent me a bunch of websites about it, blogs and stuff, we can look through it all tonight when the brat’s in bed.”

“I’m literally standing right here, you assholes.”

“But, flowers?” His dad ignored Katsuki’s comment, instead glancing over to him, his eyebrows set low. “Do you mean that literally? Or, more… I don’t know, metaphorically?”

Maybe it was because they were talking about his condition, reminding him about it, because Katsuki felt the signs that meant it was about to happen again. It was the way his heartbeat sped up, the burn in his lungs. That’s how it always started, followed by a tickle at the back of his throat. He braced one hand against the counter, coughing harshly a couple times into his inner elbow. A single petal this time.

“Nope, no sir,” his mom hissed, whacking at Katsuki with a kitchen towel. “You fucker, what did I tell you about roses near the food?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake—”

“I’m serious, think of the germs!” She pressed an entire roll of paper towels into his chest, waving her other hand as if to shoo him off. “Just leave the rest to me, it’s almost done anyways.”

“I’m not a fucking invalid, sheesh, woman—”

“Table! Sit. Now.”

Katsuki stuck the knife in the cutting board and groaned, rolling his eyes, sulking to the trashcan where he disposed of the used towel, and then dragging his feet to the kitchen table to plop down as ungracefully as he could. As soon as Dad was done placing dishes, he joined him.

“So. Uh. You were not kidding.” His dad’s face actually looked a little pale. He stared at Katsuki like he had just sprouted a new head or something, which was definitely not appreciated. “You’re literally coughing up rose petals.”

“Oh I know, it sounds like complete bullshit,” Mom called out over her shoulder as she stirred in the noodles to the pan. “If it was the effect of some quirk, then maybe it would be a little easier to swallow, but an actual medical condition? But he’s been doing it all morning. You saw it yourself just now.”

“Please tell me there’s a cure.”

“Dr. Yamakawa said, usually if it’s left untreated, it can lead to a whole slew of other health problems, so we can’t just hope that it will sort itself out. Thank god there’s medicine available.” She clicked the stovetop off and brought the pan to the table, setting it on a potholder and taking a seat. “The condition is pretty uncommon, so the pills have to be specially ordered, shipped all the way from India.”

Katsuki took a small portion of noodles, but honestly he wasn’t very hungry. Wasn’t sure how much he could stomach. He hated talking about all of this.

If his dad’s expression was anything to go by, he was having a hard time grasping it, too. He was all wide-eyed and scrunched eyebrows, with a confused lopsided frown. “How long will treatment take?”

“About a week for the medication to stop the symptoms, and until that happens, he needs minimal physical exertion. Which, I know you’re not gonna want to do,” Katsuki’s mom turned to him, and it was ridiculous how she was chiding him for something he hadn’t even done yet. “But we don’t want you suffocating on your own flower petals out there, so until the meds kick in, lighten up on the training would ya?”

Katsuki let out a growl, glaring daggers into her. “I can fucking handle myself.”

She just gave him a look, an eyebrow arched, clearly unconvinced. Katsuki broke eye contact. He was tired of looking at that patronizing bullshit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mom turn back to her food. “After the meds, it’s monthly check-ups, and the rest is really just gonna depend on him. It’s not like he can have a surgery and the problem’s over -- it's expensive as hell, it's super invasive, and it's just all-around impractical, especially when the medication exists. It's going to take time, though. And he’s got to learn how to get over himself.”

“Oi, fuck off—”

“Get over what?” His dad cut in, his need for answers making him overlook the dangerous tone in Katsuki’s voice. “How does something like this even happen?”

His mom froze at that. She looked up to Dad, then over to Katsuki. Then back at Dad again. Like she thought they were about to tread on a field of landmines and was trying to calculate the safest path. Finally, she let out a sigh. “Well, the doctor said it’s because—”

“He’s fucking wrong, I already told you—”  But before Katsuki could fight back, his words faltered. There was that burning again. And the squeezing, and the twisting.

“No, nope, not while we’re trying to eat,” His mom pointed frantically towards the stairwell. “Deal with that in your room.”

And Katsuki didn’t have the strength of will to protest, his coughing fits were embarrassing enough as they were. He grabbed the paper towels with one hand, the other coving his mouth, and he bolted to the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time he reached the top landing, there were two petals in his hand. And it was so disgusting, so frustrating. He hated it.

But Katsuki wasn’t an idiot. There was no reason he couldn’t have just gone into the tatami room, or the office, which meant that his mom wanted him as far away as possible so they could talk about him. No way in hell he wasn’t gonna listen to what they had to say. So he barreled his way to his room, making his feet stomp as loud as possible. At the last second, he slammed his bedroom door in front of him before turning around and tiptoeing back to the top of the stairs.

He couldn’t hear anything at first, so he slid his way down a couple of steps, trying to keep his weight distributed evenly so nothing would creak, just like he had done when he was a nosey kid. Finally, he could start to make out his mom’s voice.

“…the face he makes whenever it’s about to happen. See it. Learn it. Know it well. Have tissues ready. Be prepared to steer him to the closest toilet.”

His dad said something very low and deeply perplexed, but Katsuki couldn’t quite hear what was being said. Then there was a very distinct “But seriously, how does that even happen?”

“That’s another unbelievable thing. Literally no one can figure out how it’s possible. Not doctors, not researchers, not biologists.” There was the clanking of dishes, maybe they were clearing off the table already. His mom’s voice turned thoughtful, if not a bit hesitant, “But the doctor did say something, it’s what made Katsuki have that outburst at the hospital.”

Oh no, not this shit again.

But no matter how much he didn’t want to hear this nonsense again, his mom’s voice carried quite clearly up the stairwell. “He said the only way the disorder can develop is if a person experiences a deep, unrequited love.”

Katsuki rested his face in his palms, groaning. Willing the ache that was building in his chest to fucking go away.

 “… Love? You can’t be serious, our Katsuki? And, we’re just supposed to believe that?”

Yeah, his dad knew what the fuck was up. He knew how completely bullshit it all was.

“Well, what else can we believe?” His mom’s voice had turned shrill, almost desperate. “For all we know, he could be like, madly smitten over someone, and he doesn’t even realize it because, well, you know how he is. He’s so… so emotionally…”

“… Constipated?”

“Exactly.”

And Katsuki wanted to burn the whole house down right then and there. If his parents were gonna spew shit out of their mouths like that, they might as well say it to his fucking face.

“But the thing is…” There was a pause, and his mother’s voice turned even quieter, to the point where he could barely make out her words. “I think it’s true.”

He could feel his jaw grit, his teeth grinding together.

“But who… who would he even—?”

“It would have to be someone who means a lot to him, right? And you know how he is, so there can’t be too many people who fit that bill. Well, I’ve had a few hours to think it through, and…” Her voice paused. It turned even lower still. “You know the kid that Katsuki tutors sometimes? The cute little redhead?”

There was a heartbeat. Then two. Then more, thumping, faster and faster.

No.

“Remember, Katsuki picked him to be on his team in the Cavalry Battle.”

He brought a hand to grasp at his chest, where there was a fire in his lungs, in his heart, the flames clenching and unclenching, squirming, writhing.

No.

“And, according to UA faculty and the police reports, he’s the kid that coordinated his rescue from the villains.”

Then there was the tickling in the back of his throat, like he had swallowed water down the wrong pipe, but it was growing, sickening perfume filling his airways, he couldn’t even breathe.

No, no, no.

His dad’s voice was next. “Are you sure?”

No. She’s fucking wrong.

There was one last, pounding heartbeat, as time slowed to a crawl.

“Kirishima Eijirou.” Her voice rang out, loud and clear. “It’s definitely him.”

And then his mind was filled with red hair and sharp teeth and a glistening smile, the sound of his laughter, so beautiful that he wanted to listen to it forever, and it wouldn’t go away. It consumed him, all of him, his entire body, worse than it ever had before – the butterflies in his stomach going wild, his heart trying to beat out of its cage, his lungs burning for air, and it hurt. It hurt, so much he doubled over, his eyes stinging so badly he could cry, and he couldn’t hold back the coughing any longer. He let out a hack, his throat already scratching in pain.

The voices in the kitchen immediately went quiet.

Shit.

He stood up as best as he could on wobbly legs, his coughing threatening to throw him off balance. Not caring anymore about making sound, he clambered his way up the top three steps until he was safe on the landing.

“Katsuki-?” A voice called after him.

Fuck, fuck, goddammit…

The petals piled up, one by one with every cough and hurl, into his mouth and into his hand, overflowing, falling everywhere. He bolted to his room, leaving a trail in his wake, slamming the door behind him.

He tore his hand from his mouth, gasping for air, as a mass of petals plummeted to the floor, flitting every which way. He watched them with disgust, trampling them with a few angry stomps of his foot.

Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

He let out a yell, turning to his wall and kicking at it in frustration. Not enough to damage it, just enough to hurt, to ease out even just a fraction of his rage. Then he did it again, because there wasn’t anything else he could do. Next was his fist, his quirk, knocking against the wall, each blow followed by a bellow, a snarl, over and over until it felt like his muscles were too tense to continue and his brain was too numb to even care anymore.

He let out a shaky gasp, turning his back to the wall, leaning against it, sliding to the floor. He glanced at the petals that had fluttered to the ground around him with disinterest.

He was not in love with Shitty Hair Kirishima.

His arm reached out dazedly, his fingers picked up a petal. His eyes studied it.

He wasn’t in love. He wasn’t.

The roses said otherwise.

Chapter Text

Katsuki couldn’t think of anything else he could do, so he stayed locked up in his room that night. His parents left him alone. Which was probably the smartest fucking thing they had done all day, Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stop himself from flying off the handle. At some point, one of them had left something by his door, probably dinner from that evening. Katsuki wasn’t hungry.

The sky outside had since gone dark, and at some point he had heard his parents head off to bed. That had probably been a few hours ago, but Katsuki didn’t really know for sure. He had just been lying on his bed, staring at his wall – and, once the sun had set, staring into darkness.

It wasn’t like he was actually sleeping or anything, he probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep even if he wanted to. Which, he wanted to.  If he was asleep, he wouldn’t be stuck thinking about bullshit. But, as he was begrudgingly coming to realize, not thinking about something was infinitely easier said than done. The best he could do for now was keep his thoughts foggy, his mind in a haze. Not focus on anything, just to keep the petals at bay.

But suddenly, his phone let out a buzz, the screen lighting up his dark room. As if by instinct, Katsuki grabbed it and squinted at the notification.

        [Shitty Hair] 23:46

        Hey Bakugou! Just checking in :) I heard ur mom picked u up this morning, everything ok?

And, shit, he was gasping for air before he had even finished reading the text.

It was the same shit all over again. In a frantic scramble, Katsuki swung his legs over the side of the bed, feet making landfall, and then he was bolting to his door, a bit of a stagger in his steps as the sudden shift in position made his head swim and as the beginnings of the coughs set him off balance. The way his chest was already heaving, over and over again, as petals forced their way up his wind pipe, made it difficult to focus on finer movements. After struggling with the lock, he swung open the door and stomped to the bathroom, barely managing to get his head over the toilet basin before the petals fell.

There he coughed and hacked, so much that he felt like he could throw up, drool dripping from his mouth like some sort of an animal, fingers practically clawing at his chest and throat, until it finally relented and air shakily entered his lungs again.

Honestly, fuck Kirishima. Fuck him, for being so… so…

The hallway light turned on behind him, the room brightening as the door creaked open, and there was the soft padding of footsteps approaching, a hand resting on his shoulder.

Katsuki turned sharply, glaring.

It was his dad, robed and bleary-eyed, holding a water bottle down to him. Without a word, Katsuki grabbed the bottle and uncapped it, shrugging the hand off of his shoulder before draining half the water in just a few gulps.

His dad’s let out a yawn, scratching the nape of his neck. “You alright?”

Katsuki stared him down.

“That’s… a big no. Point taken.” Dad rubbed at his eyes, his voice a grumbled mess. “You want food? There’s leftovers downstairs. Curry. I made it extra spicy.”

“No. Leave me alone.” Katsuki flushed the toilet and lowered the lid so he could sit on it while he caught his breath.

“Well, in that case…” His dad blew air from puffed-up cheeks, looking around him like he wasn’t sure why he was even there. But then, he slowly looked up to Katsuki, his brow quipped curiously. “What set it off?”

“Eh?”

“The flowers. One of the blogs said there’s usually a trigger or something.”

Katsuki looked away, jaw set. “It’s not like that. Fucking, mind your own business.”

“I just want to understand what you’re going through, that’s all. It's why I want to ask questions. That way, I can know how to help. But if I shouldn’t even bother trying, then I won’t.”

Katsuki continued to look to the side, a pout on his lips. It wasn’t that he needed someone to understand. He didn’t need sympathy, or empathy, or pity, or any of that bullshit. But, there was something comforting in the idea of venting, letting all of his frustration out on open and willing ears. Maybe it would lift some of the weight that had found itself resting heavily on his chest. So he shrugged, keeping his eyebrows low so his dad would still know how decidedly not happy he was about it.

Taking the shrug as an invitation, his dad nodded, more to himself than anything. He leaned against the doorframe, hunkering down as if they were gonna have some sort of a deep conversation. “Then, if it’s okay to ask, what does it feel like? When you… you know.”

“It’s hell.”

 And Katsuki should have just left it at that. An immediate, jarring deadpan, no hesitation. It was hell, and that was all that his dad needed to know. But the look in Dad’s eyes – uneasiness, curiosity, concern, all wrapped into one – for some reason, it urged Katsuki on. So he kept his head down, cleared his throat. Let out whatever his voice would allow.

“It’s like that feeling of food going down the wrong pipe. Except, imagine it fucking ten times worse. It burns, stings. Smells like shit, tastes like shit, so bad that I could actually puke. It can happen literally whenever it fucking feels like it. And once it starts, it won’t stop no matter how hard I try.”

The room fell completely silent at that. And when Katsuki finally looked up, their eyes meeting, the way his dad was looking at him… it was pitying. And it was infuriating. That’s exactly why he should have just kept his goddamn mouth shut. The water bottle crinkled harshly in his tightening grip, his jaw so tense that it was starting to hurt. With a snarl on his lips, he fixed his eyes on the floor again. His dad staring at him like that, it made him feel cornered. Claustrophobic. It needed to stop.

He stood, taking one last long gulp of water before crunching the plastic totally in his hands and tossing it into the waste basket. "I'm going to bed."

“Oh, right, before you go...” his dad piped up, his hand reaching for something in his robe pocket before offering the object to Katsuki. “Here's this. You dropped it when you came in here. You’re lucky the screen didn’t crack on the tile.”

Fuck. It was his phone. In his mad dash for the bathroom, it must have slipped through his fingers. Katsuki grabbed it, pressing the home button and watching it light up in his palms. The notification was still there, bright like a beacon, and he could feel his stomach lurch at the sight, petals threatening to cross his lips again. He tried his best to keep them at bay, through sheer force of will alone.

“If only we knew what the trigger was,” his dad wondered out loud, quietly, some curious tone peeking through his voice. “Then, maybe we could avoid something like this it in the future. You know?”

With scrunched brows, Katsuki looked up. His eyes locked with his dad's, who was peering at him knowingly. Katsuki’s gaze lowered back to his phone. To the text notification that was glowing back at him. As realization struck him, a growl rumbled deep in his throat. He glared back at Dad, one last time.

That nosey fucker.

“Fuck off. I mean it.”

 “Alright, alright,” his dad held up a hand in surrender. “You deserve privacy, and if you don’t want to talk about it, then we won’t talk about it.”

With a grunt, Katsuki pushed past him, trudging through the hallway.

“But if you do want to talk about it…” his dad’s voice started calmly after him, the sincere tone making Katsuki freeze in his tracks. “If you ever need to, you can. We’ll listen, both me and your mother. You…  you do know that, right?” he asked. “Right, Katsuki?”

Katsuki didn’t say anything at that. Didn’t turn around, didn’t even hum in acknowledgement. Just flipped his middle finger over his shoulder and sulked down the corridor, slamming his bedroom door behind him.

It wasn’t until well after noon that Katsuki finally reemerged from his room, stomach grumbling loudly in complaint about its neglect. He ignored his parents calling out to him from where they were working in their office, and prepared himself a late lunch. It was just leftovers from the previous day, and much more than his strict training diet would usually allow. But his regimen had already been fucked over by this whole ordeal anyways, and he was really fucking hungry, so whatever.

The coughing fits had subsided, just the tiniest bit. Probably because he wasn't at school around any possible triggers. But the smallest thing could still set the petals off at any time. A newscaster on TV, with hair fiery red under the bright studio lights, the occasional text from a certain concerned classmate, these types of things left him racing for the nearest trashcan. So Katsuki turned off the TV. Turned off his phone. He tried to occupy his mind the rest of the day by taking a shower and finishing his weekend’s homework. He went to bed early again, hoping to shorten the time until all of this bullshit would finally stop.

And then it was Monday morning, another doctor’s appointment. The doctor talked his parents through the medication, how it worked, its side-effect, as well as more briefing about the nature of the disorder itself. Katsuki was supposed to be listening, too, but his anger and frustration was nearly all-consuming. Even when he tried to mentally distance himself from the situation, he could still feel them nibbling away at the back of his mind, like some sort of parasite. To keep himself under control, he just blotted out the conversation.

Then, he and his mom were finally on the road, driving back to UA. The weather outside was beautiful, and it wasn't fucking fair that nature was in such a good mood on what was already starting to be one of the top five worst days of his life. Mom had been running her mouth since they had left the hospital, nagging him non-stop about the same exact shit that the doctor had just told them before, except this time it was all but impossible to block out.

“Your father should be calling the school now, making arrangements for us to meet with the principal and the nurse, as well as some of your teachers, so they know how to best help you. That'll happen later today or tomorrow.”

 “Hm.” As long as he didn't have to sit through that meeting, as long as he didn't have to endure the stares of pity or disgust or confusion from his teachers, then he couldn't complain. His parents could do whatever the hell they wanted.

“And remember – I know you have some deep-seated hatred against feelings, but you have to be responsible. Technically, school policy says that students need to take prescriptions with the nurse present to make sure that it's taken properly, but for you they’re allowing an exception. You better not abuse that.”

Katsuki’s eyes flickered down to the backpack that was by his feet – where his medication was. A capsule, taken once in the morning and up to two other times a day as needed. As for how it worked, Katsuki didn’t know and he didn’t care.

His mom seemed like she was waiting for a response, so “yeah, yeah,” was all he muttered.

“Your homeroom teacher has been warned in advance. This first week, your respiratory system will be compromised until the medicine kicks in, so you better keep the workouts light, ya hear?”

“Whatever.”

Katsuki glanced out the window, watching the gates of the school approach. Their car was let through. They pulled pulled to a stop on a round-about outside the main quad, and his mom shifted the gear to park. Finally, he was here. Katsuki grabbed a strap of his backpack with one hand and reached for the door handle with the other.

“You got all of your school books? Your medicine?”

He grunted before swinging the door open, stepping out of the car.

“And remember, you already took some this morning, so hold off for a while—”

“—I know.”

“And in training, go easy on yourself, for a week at least—”

“—I know—”

“—And, you have a phone so if anything happens, you call right away, ya hear? Or even just, fucking, text every once in a while, for goodness’ sake—”

“—I fucking heard all of this the first three times, Christ, woman.”

“Katsuki.”

“What?” He turned, leaning down to look through the door, thoroughly pissed.

And Mom… she didn’t look right. Her face was all sunken in with worried, more than he was used to her letting show. He didn’t like it.

“Just, call if you need anything, alright?”

He tch-ed. “If I say yes, will you fucking get off my back?”

“Sure.”

“Then whatever.”

“Alright then,” she rolled her eyes, amused, shifting into drive, “See you later, kid. Study hard.”

Katsuki slammed the door and slung the backpack over his shoulder, listening as the car sped off, taking in the academic scene in front of him. He heaved a sigh.

Plus Fucking Ultra, or whatever.

Once Katsuki entered the school grounds, he made it a full eight minutes before  he was coughing up petals in a bathroom. The moment he had walked into the cafeteria, he had spotted a blaze of red hair across the way, and rather than spend the end of lunch break getting a meal, Katsuki found himself hunched over a fucking toilet. Again. And it wasn’t like he could take another pill so soon after he had taken his first one. Fuck.

Once the episode had passed, Katsuki settled for a few gyoza from the cafeteria, something he could eat in the short lunchtime that he had left. Sure enough, soon after he had finished, the bell rang, and it was time for class. He made his way down the hallways, avoiding anyone he recognized, being sure to trudge into the classroom at the last possible second, planting himself in the seat just as the lesson began. The less time to interact with his classmates, the better, and avoiding Kirishima like the plague seemed like a solid plan in general, even if his parents were completely and totally wrong about the whole... love thing. With Katsuki’s desk being at the front of the room without a single strand of red hair to gaze upon, that afternoon’s classes went by without incident. Could have been a lot worse.

But then came their training.

It was a Monday, their most warm-up heavy day. After throwing on his gym clothes, Katsuki made his way out to the gymnasium, fully prepared to work his way through their routine stretches. But before he could make a space for himself on the floor mats, Aizawa approached him.

“Bakugou, you’ll sit out for today.”

“Seriously? All of it?”

Aizawa gave a curt nod. “Doctor’s orders.”

Yeah, yeah, the doctor did say that some bullshit like this would happen, so Katsuki had been expecting it. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“It’s just warm-ups,” he grumbled through clenched teeth.

But Aizawa’s look was stern, and he handed over a packet of make-up work from earlier that day, motioning to a lone chair in the far corner of the gymnasium.

Katsuki literally wanted nothing more than to say ‘fuck that’ and blast through exercises and training like it was nothing. Like he knew he could. But when Katsuki glanced over to his chattering classmates, as one voice singled itself out over the crowd, loud and cheery and obnoxious, “what did you guys get up to this weekend?”, he could feel his lungs practically shudder. He turned back to Aizawa, grudgingly snatched the paper out of his hands, and sulked over to the sidelines.

To put it plainly, Kirishima wasn’t helping matters a single fucking bit. The guy was pushy, always asking to be tutored, or to go sparring, or to play video games, or watch a movie, or fuck-all. Which, certainly wasn’t out of character for him, and before this whole ordeal had started, Katsuki would occasionally accept his offers because he had nothing better to do.

But right after that Monday’s training, while Katsuki gathered his things, Kirishima approached him to ask for god-knows-what, and the sensations in his chest were so strong that Katsuki had no choice but to push the redhead aside and storm away in a mad search for a trashcan, or some paper towels. He had to run away. There wasn’t really another way to put it. He was running away. Pathetic.

And it wasn’t like that was the only time it happened that day, either. Outside of the classroom, there wasn’t much for Katsuki to focus his mind on, so it was easier for his thoughts to get distracted, his own damn mind wandering without his control, and then he’d start thinking about fucking bullshit, embarrassing bullshit that he would deny well into the grave. And then he'd have to dart to his bathroom.

Not to mention that the universe was a complete and utter sadist, and had some twisted sense of humor too, since their dorms were right fucking next to each other. Before, it hadn’t bothered him too much, it was better to have Kirishima as a neighbor than literally anyone else. But now, it was the fucking bane of his existence.

Because now, every time Kirishima knocked on his door to ask for help with a chemistry problem – petals.

Every time he heard Kirishima’s trash workout music playing a little too loudly through the wall – petals.

Every fucking time he heard one of Kirishima’s doors open, for any goddamn reason, at all, even if it was just him going to go take a goddamn piss – fucking petals.

Honestly, at this point in the day it felt like nothing had changed at all. The petals were unrelenting, setting off at the smallest thing, and there was only so much medicine he could take to counter them. Hell, with how shitty just this first day had been, he wasn’t even sure if the medicine was helping a single bit.

On Tuesday morning, Katsuki was late for class. And not for some vaguely excusable reason either, he just had the worst timing in the goddamn world. He and Kirishima had walked out of their rooms to head to class at the same time, making Katsuki dart back into his room, slam the door behind him, and wait for the coughing fit to pass. At this rate, Kirishima was going to start worrying about him or some shit. No training that day either. And he still didn't know if the medicine was working,

"These things take time". He did remember the doctor saying that. But Katsuki couldn't afford to just wait around. He had things to do. He had a life to live, a future to prepare for. How long was time going to take?

Wednesday went by alright, all things considered. Only three incidences happened at school – only one was during an actual class during some group activity, one happened during a break, and the last while he was sitting out, watching everyone else train. Maybe, since he could take his medicine up to three times a day, the petals were becoming a lot easier to manage?

Although, it was getting more and more difficult ignoring his fucking nosey classmates. Katsuki could just tell they were already wondering about him, all hushed behind his back.

He heard them, sometimes. The curious whispers under their breaths as he walked back into the classroom after a mad dash to the toilets. The snooping glances thrown his way during lunch. The concerned expressions he got as he sat, stuck in the sidelines watching everyone else train their bodies and quirks every afternoon. It was frustrating, enough to make his knuckles turn white and his jaw hurt. So, he ignored them, let their whispering bade to the background.

He especially ignored Kirishima. Or at least, he tried to. He seemed to be at least somewhat successful in that regard. Even after the school day, the petals seemed to have lessened, but it was too soon to say if it was the medication’s doing, or if he was just getting really good at avoiding Kirishima despite the red-head’s relentless attempts to flag him down at literally every fucking opportunity. Maybe the guy was just finally taking a hint.

All of that to say, it could have been a lot worse. But it was still pretty damn shitty.

Thursday went by much the same. There weren’t as many petals, which should have been a relief, but the fact that they were still happening at all seemed to be presenting a new problem.

The thing is, Katsuki was supposed to be slowly reintroduced to the training schedule. Per doctor’s orders (and the permission of his parents and administration), the first few days were to remain largely exercise-free, no warm-ups or anything. But as his condition improved, Katsuki should have been allowed to rejoin the class during their more minor drills, at Aizawa’s discretion. But, as the school week was coming to an end, and even as Katsuki’s incidences became relatively few, it was becoming clear that Aizawa had no intention of allowing him to join the class anytime soon. Seems as though training wasn’t going to happen at all until the petals stopped completely.

Which, was complete horseshit. His medicine was working, wasn’t it? There was no way it was just some sort of fucking placebo effect. Hell, even if it was all in his mind, the petals were going away regardless, and that had to count for something, right? He should be able to work out, train, be around the other students, even stupid redheaded ones, and he should still be alright.

Though, would he really be alright around Kirishima? There was really only one way to know for sure, but it wasn’t like Katsuki was going to go out of his way to make it happen. He would just have to wait for the opportunity to present itself. And, knowing Kirishima, that probably wouldn’t take too long. The guy was persistent, after all.

And, fucking, lo and behold, that Thursday afternoon, Kirishima finally managed to get him cornered.

Katsuki was moping around in the school locker room, waiting for it to clear out so he could put on his outdoor shoes in peace. Most of the other students were gone already, and he was just rummaging around his locker when he saw a flash of red appear next to him.

He looked over the locker door that was swung open, and saw Kirishima leaning with his back against the lockers, looking straight ahead of himself. His expression was... contemplative. Or, reflective.

And his stomach was fluttering, and twisting in knots, and it was so goddamn uncomfortable, but Katsuki tried his best to push it all down. It felt like he was challenging fate or something, being in Kirishima’s presence and refusing to let the petals consume him through sheer force of will and medication alone. He looked away from Kirishima, focused on getting his backpack out of the locker, and that helped ebb the discomfort.

After a little hesitation, Kirishima finally spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Sure miss sparring against you.”

And the sound of that voice, it was doing things to Katsuki’s chest just like it had before. His heart was beating, too quickly to be normal. He could feel his breath coming a bit short, his stomach fluttering. But there was something else there too, something new. It was like cotton filling his brain.

“Hm,” was all he could say.

“We should do that again sometime soon. Sparring.”

Yeahhh, that wasn’t going to happen until he got better. Katsuki gritted his teeth at the bitter reminder, but just hummed again.

“You know,” Kirishima said, tilting his head to the side, a curious pout on his lips, “You seem a bit different.”

“Eh?”

“I dunno, you're just more… mellow? Chill? If that makes sense? You don’t seem to be as… feisty as you usually are.”

Katsuki slammed his locker shut as hard as he could, making Kirishima jump a bit. “I’m always fucking chill,” he deadpan-ed.

“Ahaha, sure you are,” Kirishima snorted.

And this mindless conversation, something like banter between the two... this was something he could do now. He could hold a conversation, and the petals weren't coming. That was an improvement, right?

As a silence swept over them, Kirishima settled for looking down to the floor, as if contemplating the words that were on the tip of his tongue. Finally, his voice cut through the quiet. “Bakugou, is something wrong?”

And here comes the question.

Katsuki turned to him, lips pursed. “Like what?”

“Dunno, er… nothing. Never mind. Well,” Kirishima pushed his shoulder off of the lockers and grabbed at the book-bag that he had placed by his feet. “I hope to see you back in training soon, ‘kay?”

“Yeah.”

Well, getting Kirishima off of his back had been a lot easier than expected. But no doubt the guy would be asking again sometime soon.

And as Kirishima walked away, leaving him alone, there was the twisting, ever so faint, and a slight tickle at the back of his throat. But there was also the cotton in his head, the static. And there were no petals.

That was something that Katsuki should have felt really happy about, because fucking finally. Finally, he could get through some sort of an interaction with Kirishima, without that fucking disgusting flowery shit deciding to ruin his fucking day. It should have felt like a triumph.

But honestly, it didn’t feel all that exciting. Everything was just a little… dull.

As that first week came to an end, the incidences still happened occasionally, maybe twice a day at most, but they were less severe. Katsuki even found that carrying around a couple tissues was all he needed to take care of a few of the weaker coughing fits. That was a relief, since the convenience meant he didn’t cause a scene making a getaway from wherever he happened to be at the time, and he didn't have to worry about his classmates seeing him take some strange pill in the middle of class. The types of questions that could bring up, were not the type of questions he ever wanted to deal with.

But something that was weird about these final petering of petals, was that they could happen at any time. Katsuki wasn’t stupid – even if his parents had it all wrong, even if he didn’t feel like that about Kirishima, something about the guy was definitely the source of the coughing. Or, at least, the guy had been. Now, the petals fell whenever they goddamn pleased, which was a bit more annoying. They weren’t as predictable when they were like this. But, he figured that meant the last surviving petals were clearing themselves out of his system by any means possible. So, while Katsuki could no longer control the petals simply by avoiding Kirishima, that also meant that he could stand being in Kirishima’s presence for longer than five minutes. Not that he wanted to. But, he could. If he did want to. Which, he didn't.

Sometimes he could still feel the discomfort in his chest, and whatever that cottony static in his brain was, was becoming a lot more prevalent. It was annoying. But his throat no longer felt constantly scratchy and raw, and Katsuki didn’t have to smell or taste fucking roses all the goddamn time, which was nearly all he could have asked for.

Now, all he needed was for Aizawa to let him train already.

The time came soon enough. At the beginning of the following week, with the petals dwindling to nearly non-existent, Aizawa actually let Katsuki join the class for their pre-training stretches and warm-ups. It was finally a little progress, one step closer to being back on the hero track. But then Wednesday rolled around, and god-knows-what set off a flurry of petals in Algebra, and word must have passed on to Aizawa in the teacher’s break room because Katsuki was forced to sit in the sidelines again that afternoon.

It was so goddamn frustrating. Katsuki knew he could be doing more. Knew he should be doing more. But for some reason, Aizawa was still holding him back.

That evening, there was a knock on his door.

Katsuki looked up from his phone, staring the door down as if sheer willpower alone would be enough to send the person away.

They knocked again.

With a groan, he rolled out of bed and shuffled his way to the door, swinging it open. And it was Kirishima, because, well, of course it fucking was.

“Hey, Bakugou!” He grinned, pointy teeth blinding.

Katsuki took a deep breath through his nose. “What do you want?”

“Sorry to bother you so late, but, well… I’m really stressing out about that Algebra quiz on Friday.” He held up a notebook and a pencil. “Think you could help a bro out?”

The guy wanted tutoring. Figures. Katsuki’s first thought was a definite ‘No’, a tutoring session was how all of this had started, and he’d be damned if a tutoring session made it all go to shit again. But, the discomfort in his chest, the one that he had come to expect every time he laid eyes on Kirishima... for the first time in a long time, it didn’t happen. At all. No speeding heartbeat, no burning, no churning or twisting or anything. Just that static in his mind.

Huh.

Maybe… maybe a tutoring session with Kirishima wasn’t such a bad idea? Maybe, this was just the opportunity that he needed to test the strength of his medicine. Not to mention that maybe, if he got more used to Kirishima’s presence, seeing him in class or in training wouldn’t throw him off guard as much. Maybe, he could avoid future incidences, especially ones that Aizawa could hear about. Plus, he had literally nothing better to do.

So Katsuki shrugged, “Whatever.” He turned on his heel, leaving the door open behind him. “Just don’t piss me off by getting distracted by cat videos again.”

“Come on, that was one time!” Kirishima laughed, boldly following him into the room.

Thus, their studying began. At first, it felt like nothing was wrong, like none of this roses bullshit had happened. It was a small taste, a slight reminder of normalcy. Even after nearly an hour and a half of drilling equations and talking through word problems, there was not a single sign of the petals.

Just the static.

Kirishima had more-or-less gotten a hang of the material, so they were about to wrap things up. But, as the guy was gathering his things to head back to his room, he hesitated.

“Hey, uh. Bakugou?” He began.

Katsuki looked up to him. “Hm?”

“Well… I wasn’t going to bring it up again, and maybe I shouldn’t, but…” He turned to Katsuki, slowly meeting his eyes. “Are you... okay?”

And goddamn, he had called it. He knew another conversation like this would happen eventually. Katsuki just pursed his lips. “Yeah…? Should I not be?”

 “No, no, not that, it’s just…” Kirishima’s shoulders fell in some sort of defeat. “I dunno, it’s probably stupid but, I’ve been worried about you a lot lately.”

“Why?”

“Just a week or two ago, you were acting all funny. You kept leaving classes, and training. You didn’t look too well, you apparently got so sick that you had to go home, when we have Recovery Girl here! I was… super concerned.” Kirishima shrugged, but he went quiet, as if waiting for an answer.

Katsuki didn’t want to respond. Maybe it was that he couldn't respond, he didn’t know. But regardless, his silence only encouraged Kirishima to speak more.

“For a while there you weren’t talking to me either, or to anyone else,” The redhead scratched at his chin. “Which, I suppose isn’t too unusual for you, but it almost seemed like you were avoiding me. You haven’t been training that much, most of the time Mr. Aizawa won’t even let you. Even today, these past few hours, you... you haven't been acting like yourself.”

“So?” Katsuki managed to grumble out. “It’s not your business.”

“But as your bro, I’m making it my business.” The look on his face was determined, resolute, but his voice was so soft. “What happened? Is… is there something wrong?”

Katsuki could only stare blankly at him. He didn’t have to answer, he knew that. He had never told anyone before, he didn’t want to ever have to. But the room was so quiet, filled with Kirishima’s worry nearly palpable in the air. It was so much. Katsuki closed his eyes, let out a slow breath.

“I’m sick,” he answered plainly, voice breaking for just a moment. “Really sick.”

“Oh.” Kirishima froze at that, his lips downturned, eyebrows creased in concern. “…Is it serious?” he finally managed to ask in a low whisper. “Like… just how ‘really sick’ are we talking here?”

“It’s whatever. It’ll go away.”

“Oh.” Kirishima blinked.

Katsuki's nonchalance seemed to simultaneously relieve and and perplex him. The blond had hoped it had be enough to ease his curiosity, but with the way Kirishima was lingering, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip, he could just tell that he had created more questions than answers. Questions that he didn't want to talk about. So he stay put, sitting in his chair, watching his fidgeting fingers. Waiting for Kirishima to take his cue to leave.

“Bakugou…” Kirishima began, and it suddenly struck Katsuki just how close they were. How close their shoulders were to brushing against each other. “ We've been through a lot together, right?"

That they had. Katsuki thought back to the USJ. Back to the training camp. Back to his rescue from the villains. Memories that used to fill him up with emotions, so many that it was overwhelming. Frustration at not being able to overcome on his own. Relief at being saved. The feeling like he had finally found someone he could rely on, and confide in, for the first time in his life. It was all replaced by static.

"And after all of that..." Kirishima was searching his eyes. Searching his soul. "You do know I care about you, right?”

He could only shrug. The static in his head was jarring, overwhelming all of his other emotions. Why was it there? Why did it feel like he was losing something?

“Now, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, and you don’t have to tell me or anything. But, I want to help you if I can. Is there anything I can do?”

Stay away, his mind was screaming at him to answer. Stay far away from me so I don’t have to deal with any of that shit ever again.

But his mouth mumbled something different. “Don’t bother.” Somehow, Katsuki managed to break the hypnotizing gaze, effectively breaking whatever private moment had formed between them. “The medicine’s already working.”

He slid his chair back, standing out of it and walking to put his textbook back on his bookshelf.

“Well that’s… uh, good, isn’t it?” Kirishima chirped up from behind him. “I’m glad. If you’re alright, then that’s all that matters!”

Katsuki still wasn’t looking at him, but he practically could hear the smile that formed on the guy’s lips. He couldn’t hear if it was genuine or not.

Even though they had been so close, even with the words that Kirishima was saying, there still wasn’t a speeding heartbeat. There wasn’t the burning, or the churning, or the twisting, or anything. Just static.

Just numb.

Katsuki felt numb.

That Friday, their class was working with All Might. It was one of the first times that they trained with him after Kamino, and it was still strange hearing his distinguished if not more reserved voice coming from such a small form. But that didn’t matter. What mattered, was that All Might was letting Katsuki train.

Or rather, when Katsuki joined warm-ups, All Might didn’t say that he couldn’t. And when he followed the rest of the class out onto the gymnasium floor, All Might didn’t hand him a packet of extra schoolwork and demand that he sit in the sidelines. Aizawa wasn’t there to correct him, and Katsuki wasn’t going to either.

It was the last Friday of the month, anyways – they always did a fun exercise, as if to celebrate a month of hard work. It usually wasn’t anything too strenuous, just little competitions and things to keep the class’ spirit high. In fact, they were usually pretty dumb, not the type of thing to take seriously. But it wouldn’t be anything Katsuki couldn’t handle.

As the class waited around for All Might’s instructions, someone gave Katsuki’s back a large pat. He turned quickly, hands smoking and ready to explode a dumbass. But it was just Kirishima, all smiley and bright. The redhead slung his arms around Katsuki’s shoulders.

“Glad you could join us today!” he beamed. "Been a long time coming!"

And a week or so before, something like that would have definitely caused a coughing fit. But, Katsuki felt fine.

So far, so good.

While his classmates were starting to bounce with anticipation, wondering what today’s exercise would be, Katsuki was just relieved to even be there. After nearly two weeks of being left and forgotten about at the sidelines, just the thought of finally being able to flex his muscles, and fire off his quirk again, without some fucking petals holding him back… it was liberating.

As they were split randomly into two teams, and as All Might placed foam balls in the center of the court between groups, the rest of the class was so abuzz that All Might had to raise his arms and call for them to quiet down. With several harsh ‘shhh’s, the students finally calmed down, watching curiously as All Might got this amused glint in his eye. Then, he spoke four little words: “Quirk Dodge-ball. Go!”

And the class erupted into absolute chaos.

And holy shit, this was going to be a fucking mess. But at least it was something Katsuki could be a little excited about. When Katsuki played dodge-ball, he was absolutely ruthless. There was only one winner in dodge-ball, and he would honestly do just about anything to make sure that it was him. And in a version where quirks were allowed...

The first few seconds started out tame enough. Well, as tame as 20 teenagers with superpowers could be when playing a cutthroat match of dodge-ball. But it was in those preliminary few seconds that several were wasting time trying to figure out how to best use their quirks to simultaneously throw and avoid projectiles. But for Katsuki, that came easily enough. He could use his quirk’s mobility to dodge, while adding firepower to every throw. Simple. With a strategy already planned out, he was sure to use his opponents' hesitation as an advantage. After gathering his first armful of ammunition, he blasted to the side to dodge an incoming projectile, using his momentum to carry him towards he closest enemy. He swung his arm over-hand and fired.

“Kouda is out! Better luck next match!”

Just like that, 20 seconds into the match, and he had gotten the first kill. And god did it feel good. Finally. Fucking finally.

It didn't take long for the rest of the class to start stepping up their game. As a general rule, Katsuki tried to block everyone else, only focus on his targets, but some of his classmate’s quirk uses were admittedly very clever.

Like on the opposing team, the stupid-looking guy with the grapes on his head had managed to stick one of his own teammates to the floor, so she couldn’t leave the court even after she got hit, and he started using the her like a shield. At one point, someone was making a literal cannon, which was pretty damn cool, but she was hit right before it was completed. It was too bad, half of Katsuki kinda wanted to see if it would work.

But when Todoroki figured out that he could throw ignited dodge-balls at the other team, it was a total game changer. He wasn’t even trying to hit anyone, that bastard was herding them, making it easier for their team to pick off the scattering enemies one by one. That strategy worked pretty solidly for the first half of the game, and Katsuki took advantage of it, managing to hit three more opponents. And the rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins, the feel of his body exerting itself for the first time in such a long time… it was just a stupid game of dodge-ball, but he felt alive.

But then the icy-hot dumbass let his guard down and somehow, fucking Deku nailed him right in the face. Katsuki would have laughed if it Todoroki hadn’t been his own teammate.

It all went downhill from there. The teams had been pretty even up to that point, but without the fireballs raining down on them, the opposing team could actually focus on offense rather than defense. Then, the octopus guy took the opportunity to use all of his hands to throw a ton of dodge-balls at once, wiping out pretty much all of Katsuki's team. The only reason Katsuki had survived was because that invisible girl happened to be standing right in front of him.

And just like that, it was Katsuki versus Octopus Guy, and a few of his remaining cronies.

While the two sides spent a moment catching their breaths, the rest of the class was cheering from the sidelines, so loud and obnoxious that it was starting to give him a splitting headache. Above all, Katsuki could hear Kirishima’s voice, wishing him good luck. It was really fucking annoying. Now, he just wanted the game to be over with, he needed to rest. Which was bullshit, it was just dodge-ball and he should not have felt so winded. But that's Hanahaki for ya. If only he could take out octopus guy, who was really fucking huge so it shouldn’t have been that difficult a challenge, all he needed was a dodge-ball. But, Katsuki's feet weren't exactly cooperating, and his head was starting to ache.

Octopus guy's remaining teammates were too busy gathering every dodge-ball they could find, and rather than possibly wasting a few shots trying to hit Katsuki, they were handing them off to their teammate, who was taking one in each hand, and shit it was time to dodge.

In a split second, Katsuki followed his gut instinct and blasted to the air, explosions from alternating hands keeping him balanced and off the ground. It was a good thing the ceiling was so high, all the more room to maneuver. It seemed like a good idea at first – this way, he could move faster in a larger area, making himself a lot harder to hit. And it did work at first -- the first three attempts to hit him were unsuccessful. But as the cheers from his classmates got louder and louder, the headache would not go away. In fact, it seemed like the more he moved around, propelling through the air, the more light-headed he felt. He tried to ignore it, push it to the back of his mind, focus on dodging, holding out until they ran out of ammunition, his sights set on victory.

But then came the fourth brutal attack, coming straight toward him, and he positioned his hands underneath him, shooting himself upwards to get out of the way, going nearly as high as he could go, and that set his head spinning. Something was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, up felt down, left felt right, the dizziness, the disorientation, it was too much, he couldn’t get his bearings, the room spinning so quickly that he felt like he would actually be sick to his stomach.

There was only the feeling of flying, then the feeling of falling, the sounds of concerned shouts from somewhere far away, growing louder and closer with each millisecond. With eyes squeezed shut, Katsuki could only surround his head with his arms, tucking his legs to his chest, brace himself for an impact that he knew was coming.

He felt himself collide, felt his body skid across the floor. He felt his bones creak, muscles shake, head pounding and pounding and pounding.

And the world faded to black.

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. His chest ached, head thrumming, pulsing, thoughts jumbled by the pain. But above all, he was exhausted.

As his senses slowly came to him, Katsuki could start making out voices. They were far away, like he was trying to hear them from under water, their words hard to grasp, not retaining any meaning. But their tones sounded urgent, and the more he focused on them, the louder and clearer they seemed to become, eventually anchoring him back into reality.

“…it’s true that I knew about his condition, and if I had known of the severity of the side effects as well, I would not have let him participate in the first place.”

That voice was low, soft-spoken and nearly unfamiliar. Yet somehow, it was unmistakably All Might’s.

Someone else sighed. “It’s honestly alright, you didn’t know.” This voice belonged to someone he recognized, too. A woman.

“I truly am sorry, Recovery Girl. You as well, Aizawa.”

“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” a third voice mumbled, tired and gravely. “Look, he’s finally coming around.”

As his motor skills finally came to him, Katsuki couldn’t help but let out a groan. He finally opened his eyes, squinting at the bright lights of his surroundings. Sure enough, he was lying down in the nurse’s office, white and pristine, flushed orange by the sunlight outside. Three pairs of eyes were trailed onto him. Katsuki couldn’t look, couldn’t bring himself to see their pity staring back at him.

Of the three adults in the room, Recovery Girl was the first to speak up. “Young man, can you tell me why you’re here?”

“I…” Katsuki trailed off, swallowing, wracking his brain for answers. Sensations, images, flashed into his head one by one as the memory came back to him in full. The dodge-ball match. The dizziness. The impact. Well, that certainly explained this fucking insufferable headache. He shut his eyes again, grimacing. “I fell.”

“Good. And, your name, age, and school.”

“Bakugou Katsuki. Fifteen. UA.”

“Now, lift both of your arms in front of you, please.”

He did.

“Now lower them. And, blink a few times for me.”

He did.

“Good.” Recovery Girl swiveled to her computer, typing. “You must have hit your head pretty hard back there. You had a broken nose, a dislocated shoulder, and one of your elbows got shattered. The bruises and fractures in your ribs were not a pretty sight, either.” She shook her head, tutting. “With how All Might described you slamming into the ground like that… I’ve seen much worse, but you’re quite lucky that you passed out afterwards. You managed to avoid feeling the worst of the pain.”

“Hm.” Katsuki blinked a few times, trying to take it all in, but the words were swimming around in his head. When he finally started grasping them, he looked to his shoulders. Moved them a bit. They felt fine now. So did his nose, and elbows, and torso. The aching was still everywhere, and he was utterly worn out, but he could move.

“Any traumatic brain injuries you might have gotten seem to have healed already,” she continued. “But if you start to notice your memory acting funny in the next few days, be sure to stop by and I’ll treat you again. Other than that, you’ve made a full recovery.”

“And the flowers?” The question had left his mouth before he had a chance to stop it.

Recovery Girl tilted her head to the side. “What about them?”

“Did you heal the flowers? Are they gone?”

She leaned back in her chair, resting her clasped hands in her lap, a curious expression on her face. Her voice turned low. “Hanahaki is just as much a physical disorder as it is a psychological one. My quirk could help your body deal with any resulting harm, like internal bleeding, should the flowers get too out of control. But I can’t cure you.” Recovery Girl shook her head. “Not to worry! The flowers seem to be dormant now, so your medicine is working just fine.”

“Right.” Slowly, Katsuki pushed himself off of the cot, swinging his legs over until his feet touched the floor. He couldn’t help but let out another long groan, bringing a hand to his temple. Fuck, now his head was spinning again.

After typing a few final details to the report, Recovery Girl swiveled her chair around so she could face the teachers. “I suppose this just goes to show how even the fun training exercises can go wrong.” She let out a resigned sigh. “Now All Might, what do you have to say for yourself?”

All Might took a step forward, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry about what happened today, young Bakugou. I wasn’t fully aware of how your treatment was affecting you. It was negligent of me to let you go straight into training in that condition.”

Katsuki stayed staring forward, his hands balled up into fists on his lap, jaw set. He said nothing.

It was then that Aizawa cleared his throat. “This is why I’ve been overly cautious so far. Holding you back on training seemed like the most rational thing to do, at least until we know the full side-effects of your medication.”

“And the side-effects are?” Katsuki finally managed to rasp out through his clenched teeth. “What happened to me back there?”

“Vertigo,” Recovery Girl spoke up from her desk, her voice firm and composed. “Your treatment affects the consistency of the fluid in your inner ear, causing disorientation. It’s a pretty common effect for this type of medication. Until your brain gets used to it, you should probably avoid using your quirk for mobility. More strenuous exercises should be avoided as well, in case you get dizzy.”

“In other words, you’re not gonna be training any time soon,” Aizawa mumbled from behind his scarf. “Not for a few more weeks, at least.”

Those words pounded in his head, again and again, like a final nail being driven into a coffin. Katsuki looked down. Even after all of this, and he still couldn’t train. He felt the frustration boiling underneath the surface of his skin, anger and resentment all rumbling like a monster ready to awaken at any moment.

But it was subdued. Muted. Numb.

Numb, numb, numb.

“You should be all set now, but you’ll be tired from my quirk, so take it easy for the rest of the day,” Recovery Girl reminded him. “One of your classmates has offered to walk you back to the dorms.”

Great, now he couldn’t even walk without supervision? It was already too much to begin with, but now this? Damn. Katsuki could feel his nails digging into the palms of his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge Recovery Girl, or any of his teachers, or their words. Could only keep staring into the distance.

Numb.

With a nod from Recovery Girl, Aizawa opened the door, allowing a new figure from the hallway to enter the room.

“Hey, man.”

Katsuki snapped his head up in alarm, frozen like a deer in headlights. Red eyes smiled back at him. Pointy teeth, spiky hair.

The universe was definitely mocking him now.

“Come on, you two,” Aizawa began as he continued to hold the door open. “It’s getting late. We teachers still have some things to discuss, not to mention your parents to update.”

Katsuki glanced out of the window behind him. The sun was hanging lower in the sky – late afternoon. How long had he been out? And just how long had Kirishima been waiting for him?

But his coughing really did seem to be completely under control. And, as much as he wasn’t in the mood to see Kirishima right now, he didn’t have much of a choice. So with one last, apprehensive look in the redhead’s direction, Katsuki pushed himself to his feet and shuffled to the doorway.

As they entered the corridor, the door closed behind them, leaving them completely alone.

“Here, I got your school bag for you!” Kirishima started, not allowing any sort of silence to envelop them for more than a single second. He grabbed the backpack from one of the waiting chairs in the hallway. As he held it out, he smiled, but there was some underlying tension, something straining his expression. He looked… tired.

Without a word, Katsuki took the bag by the strap and slung it over his shoulder, making his way down the corridor ahead of Kirishima. Maybe if he created enough distance between them, the guy would take a hint and leave him alone.

No such luck. Thinking nothing of the growing gap between them, Kirishima did a little jog to close the distance.

“Do you have a clean uniform at your dorm?” He asked as they fell into step.

Katsuki let out a frustrated puff of hot air through his nose. “Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re still in your work-out uniform. I wasn’t gonna root around your gym locker for your stuff, so today’s school uniform is still there.”

As they reached the stairwell, Kirishima held out his arm, as if expecting Katsuki to take it for support. Katsuki ignored the offer and began down the stairs.

Kirishima wasn’t far behind. He was never far behind. And his voice was still just as cheery and insufferable as it ever was. “Since you have a spare, we can just go straight to the dorms now. You can just grab the other one another time.”

Katsuki just grunted, stepping onto the landing, heading to the entryway lockers so he could put on his outdoor shoes. They had taken off his gym shoes, and walking around in just socks was plain weird. After rummaging around in his locker, he sat down on a bench and began unlacing his other pair.

“Did I miss anything?” Katsuki finally managed to grumble out.

“Not really,” Kirishima took a seat next to him, his own pair of outdoor shoes in hand. “All Might actually ended training early. He managed to transform, just so he could take you to Recovery Girl himself. I think he felt pretty bad for not catching you.”

“So, I’ve been out for…”

“About two hours, yeah.”

This time, as they changed shoes, Kirishima did let silence take hold of them. The guy was worried, that much was obvious, but the resulting quiet was so stuffy. It made Katsuki feel uncomfortable, and restless. He wanted nothing more than to get away.

But surprisingly, Kirishima was the first to push himself off of the bench and make his way to the door. Katsuki could only follow suit.

The two made their way across campus to the dormitory. The air between them was filled with Kirishima’s mindless rambling about this and that, their pace set by a slight hop in his step. On the surface, it was just like any other day after training. But there was something off about it, Katsuki could tell. There was a lag in Kirishima’s step, too many uncomfortable pauses in his chatter. It was all a front. Kirishima’s attempt to distract himself from his worry. And it wasn’t working.

And Katsuki wanted to be angry about it, too. There was no reason for Kirishima to worry about him, or to act differently around him because of it. It was bullshit. But so much of him just felt like not caring.

As soon as they entered the dormitory common space, the room went quiet, and all eyes turned to them. Turned to Katsuki, focusing on him, gazes boring into him. Curiosity. Worry. Pity. He ducked his head and began making his way toward the stairwell, when Kirishima grabbed his forearm.

“Let’s take the elevator today.” He kept his voice low, quiet enough that no one else would overhear. “Aizawa told me to make sure that you take things easy.”

Katsuki huffed. Jesus fucking Christ, now he wasn’t even allowed to take the fucking stairs. At this rate, he wouldn’t be allowed to walk to his toilet by next week. But at the same time, he didn’t have much of a fight left in him. So when Kirishima started steering him towards the elevator, he just let it happen. What else could he do?

But as soon as the doors sealed shut, Kirishima turned to him.

“Hey…” His voice was soft. Uncertain.

And this was something Katsuki should have anticipated – Kirishima, once again, using their solitude as an opportunity to have some sort of conversation. A conversation that Katsuki was determined not to have. So he stared at a fixed point ahead of him, hoping to block everything out. Hoping to just ignore the problem away.

But then there was a hand on his shoulder, tugging him back to his surroundings.

“Bakugou, are you sure you’re okay?”

He shook off the hand. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t have to pull that ‘I’m fine’ crap with me. I know you’re not.”

With a snap of his head, he turned to stare at Kirishima, eyes widened just a tad. Other people weren’t usually so perceptive of his emotions. Hell, Katsuki wasn’t usually so perceptive of his own emotions, either. But he quickly turned away, eyeing the floor numbers as they ascended, willing the elevator, or even time itself to go faster so he could escape far away from this.

But escaping the elevator wouldn’t escape the fact that Kirishima was right. He wasn’t fine. Of course he wasn’t, he had just dropped from 20 feet in the fucking air. He couldn’t feel things like he used to, the numbing static in his brain wouldn’t let him. He had some bullshit disorder that fucked up his body, made him cough fucking flowers. And he was cornered – between the Hanahaki and the stupid medicine, he couldn’t fight. Couldn’t train, no matter what he did. It was all sorts of fucked up, how was he supposed to be fine with any of it? What could he even do to fix it?

But this whole other people caring about him thing wasn’t something Katsuki was used to, either. It was uncomfortable. The elevator dinged, and as soon as the doors opened, Katsuki darted out of it, away from it all. But before he could make it to his dorm, retreat to the safe seclusion of his own room, Kirishima called after him.

“You’re not okay.” His words carried over Katsuki’s shoulder, making him stop in his tracks. “And, that’s okay.”

“Kirishima…” he rumbled. A warning.

“I don’t mean that your suffering is okay or anything! All I mean is, it’s okay to be not okay, if that makes any sense…?”

“Kirishima,” Katsuki tried again, his voice turning dangerously low.

“What I want to say is… you don’t have to pretend to be okay when you’re not. Especially around me.”

At that, the air between them turned still, as if each of them were holding their breaths, waiting for something. Anything. The tension between them was too much.

Finally, Katsuki managed to let out a shaky breath. “Just, drop it.”

There were soft footsteps behind him. “Bakugou—”

“I’m serious. Drop it.”

“No.”

There was a strong hand on his shoulder again, enough force to make Katsuki turn around in surprise. Then there were arms wrapped around him, Kirishima’s chin resting on his shoulder. A proper hug. Katsuki froze, hands prepared to push away but brain first trying to process what was happening.

“Kirishima—”

“You scared me today, okay?” He cut in, his words muffled by Katsuki’s shoulder, circling his arms tighter before Katsuki could push away. “You’ve been scaring me all week. You still are, even now.”

That hug, so gentle, with Kirishima’s hair against his nose, firm arms around his waist, a quiver in his voice as it shook with emotion… it should have been overwhelming.

“And I know you don’t want to talk about it, and that’s fine.”

It should have made him feel a lot, just like he would have felt before.

“But I’m worried that you’re bottling it up, not taking care of yourself.”

He should have felt embarrassment. He should have felt infuriation. He should have felt confusion, and warmth, contentment. Gratitude. More than even that.

“So if you’re going through something tough, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

He should have felt so much. So fucking much.

 “Right?” Kirishima lifted his head to meet Katsuki’s eyes, his brows drawn together in worry. “Right, Bakugou?”

Katsuki lowered his gaze. He searched within him for something, anything. An end to the static.

With a grunt, he pushed Kirishima away. He opened his door and let it fall shut behind him.

He felt nothing.

 “Katsuki??” His mom’s voice nearly shrieked through the phone.

Katsuki winced at the sharp sound and pulled it away from his ear. “Yeah?”

“Oh my god, you actually picked up, I can’t believe it.”

He huffed at that. Surely it wasn’t that fucking surprising? Katsuki swung his backpack onto his bed and sat down next to it. “What do you want?”

“The school called a while ago and explained everything.” She sounded… tightly-strung, to say the least. “They said you were healed up and fine now, but I wanted to hear it from you. You alright, kiddo?”

Katsuki rummaged around his bag for a bit, searching for something, the actions distracting him from his answer. Eventually, he let out a clipped “I’m fine.”

“You sure as hell don’t sound fine.”

Fucking hell, not with this again. Katsuki groaned. “This is just what I normally sound like?”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” his mom’s sigh carried loud and clear through the phone. “Are you absolutely sure you’re okay? You seem a bit… well, from how the nurse described your injuries, falling like that must have been not fun.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Ri-ight. I’m hanging up now.”

“What? Don’t— Fuck, Katsuki, I swear to God, I will march over there—”

“—Fine, fine, fine, whatever, I won’t! Sheesh.” With a shake of his head, Katsuki turned his attention back to his bag, where he finally found his pill bottle in a side pocket.

His mom sighed again. She’d been sighing too much lately. “We haven’t heard from you much, how’s everything else been? How are the petals?”

Katsuki stood from his bed and let out a stretch. “They’re fucking fine.”

“… Really?”

“Yeah. They’ve gone away already.” He made his way to the bathroom.

“That’s… really nice to hear, actually.” This sigh was more in relief than anything. “Wish you’d let us know earlier though, ya brat. Not like we’re holding our breaths over here or anything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Katsuki carefully shut the bathroom door behind him.

 “Well good news, the doctor said that you don’t have to go to him for an appointment since UA’s nurse handled everything.”

He took a second to examine the pill bottle’s label, glancing through the side-effects, muttering a passive “Sounds good.”

“And— oh hold on, your father’s calling.”

“Mmhmm.” He gave the bottle a little shake against his free ear.

 “I’ll text you or something. You better text back, alright?”

“Uh, yeah.” He unscrewed the lid of the bottle, peering at the contents. “Sure thing.”

“Bye.”

 “Hm. Bye.” He hung up the phone, set it on the counter, held out the bottle in front of him.

And dumped every last pill into the toilet.

At first, nothing changed.

Not Friday night, not Saturday morning. Not even Saturday evening, after an entire day of not taking any medication. With the chemicals still lingering in his system, it was probably too soon to notice any effects. But that night, sleep didn’t come as easy as it normally did. Maybe it was withdrawals or something? Or maybe it had nothing to do with the medication, just one of those nights where sleep was nearly impossible. But it was the weekend. A little lack of sleep was the least of his worries. At least the petals were still at bay.

Although that night, the thought did cross his mind once or twice that maybe what he had done hadn’t been the best idea. Ignoring a doctor’s instructions, stopping cold turkey on a medicine that he knew nothing about, that was supposed to cure him from a disease that he also knew nothing about… It wasn’t exactly the smartest thing to do.

Scratch that. He was a total dumb-fuck.

But hey, what’s done is done. There was nothing Katsuki could do about it now but hope for sleep to come. And in the early hours of the morning, he did finally manage to nod off.

But, as Katsuki woke up to the bright light of late Sunday morning, it was like a circuit had switched inside his brain. It was like there was a pool of energy, his energy that had been frozen over without him even realizing it. And now, the surface was finally beginning to thaw.

And by the end of the day, he was swimming in it.

It made his heart race, just a bit. Made his legs bounce restlessly as he tried working on his homework. It was exhilarating, all of the energy that he used to have was coming back to him all at once. But with that energy, came the anger. The resentment. It was distracting. He needed to work it down to a manageable level.

So Katsuki spent the rest of his Sunday afternoon drilling. Sit-ups, lunges, push-ups, jogging in place, jumping jacks, any reps that he could do in the small confides of his dorm, until sweat was dripping down his face and his muscles were worked to exhaustion. Anything that would elevate his sudden restlessness. Distract him from the all-encompassing frustration that was finally starting to creep back into his mind after so long.

But even that wasn’t enough. Warm-ups weren’t going to catch him up to the other students. He needed more.

Which, as expected, Aizawa wasn’t gonna let him do. That Monday afternoon, Katsuki was forced to sit in the sidelines again, working on alternative assignments while he watched his peers train. On a positive note, his grades had never been better. And his grades had always been really fucking good. All of the extra time to study the material and work on homework over the past few weeks had paid off, albeit in a small way.

Yet all of that meant jack shit when he couldn’t even do what he came to UA to do. If he wanted to be a regular student with regular classes and regular assignments and regular grades, he would have applied to fucking General Studies or something. But Katsuki sure as hell was not a regular student. He was supposed to be in the hero course, for fuck’s sake. And at this point, he had absolutely nothing to show for it.

But Katsuki’s homeroom teacher had no say in what he did outside the classroom. And he had to do something, because at this rate, whatever compromises the school had made for him and his condition weren’t gonna work.

And that’s how, that very evening, Katsuki found himself knocking on Kirishima’s door.

It wasn’t too often that Katsuki turned to people for help. But lately, if he ever entertained the idea, Kirishima was the first person to come to mind.

“Coming, coming~”

The door opened, revealing Kirishima in sweats with a headband running across his forehead. The sight didn’t have an effect on Katsuki. Not a sign of the flowers.

Kirishima’s face immediately lit up. “Bakugou? Hey man, what’s up?”

“Wanna go sparring?”

“Uh.” Kirishima’s lips pouted in slight confusion. “What?”

“You, Me. Sparring. Now.”

At first, Kirishima just blinked a few times. But then, his expression sagged, just a little. “Bakugou, you shouldn’t.”

Katsuki let out a huff. “I need to train.”

Looking to the side guiltily, Kirishima chewed at his bottom lip. “You’re supposed to be taking things easy, though.”

“Oh sure, but ‘taking it easy’ and ‘doing fuck-all’ are not the same fucking thing, and you know it.”

“I suppose, maybe, I could go with you to a practice room, spot you while you do warm-ups or something?”

“That’s not training, that’s stretching. Come on, Kirishima.”

Not to mention that, Katsuki had tried using a practice room yesterday, but apparently, his student ID’s key swipe no longer had clearance to that area of campus. Go fucking figure.

“…Right. Well…” Kirishima shrugged a little, clearly thinking through some options. “I do have a punching bag. I know it’s not the same as actual hand-to-hand combat. But I think it could do you some good. Help you release whatever you’ve got bottled up.”

Katsuki couldn’t help but let out a tch. He didn’t bottle things up. Hell, even if he did, some stupid punching bag wasn’t gonna fix it.

“Hey,” Kirishima let out sharply at the disgruntled look on Katsuki’s face. “It’s my punching bag. I didn’t have to offer it to you. Do you want to use it or not?”

Katsuki thought for a second, considering his options. Either train alone in his room, or beat up something. And, he had already trained alone in his room.

“Fine,” he grumbled, pushing Kirishima aside and stepping into the door. Without wasting any time, as soon as he reached the bag, he squared up, lifting his fist.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, hold up, stop.” Kirishima hopped across the room to a drawer in his desk. He rummaged around in it before offering Katsuki two boxing gloves. “You’re gonna need these. Jeez,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re certainly… enthusiastic today.”

Katsuki just looked down at the gloves, upper lip lifted in repulsion.

“They’re just my spare. I haven’t used them, they’re clean.” Kirishima shoved them toward him again, more forcefully this time. “Boxing wraps. Gel ones, the good stuff. Please don’t blast them too much.”

With another petulant huff, Katsuki snatched the gloves and pulled them on. He wrapped the Velcro around his wrists, giving each a few rolls to gauge their support.

“…Thank you,” he mumbled, as if saying it low enough would make it feel less significant.

“No problem, man!” With a smile, Kirishima crawled back onto his bed, where a textbook and notes were sprawled about. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just be working on that English vocab.”

Katsuki nodded in Kirishima’s general direction before turning his attention once again to the punching bag.

He didn’t really get the point of punching bags. Sure, he knew the techniques, knew a jab from a hook, but he didn’t see the appeal in beating up an object that couldn’t fight back. Where was the challenge in that? It just didn’t seem like training to him, and it certainly wasn’t what he had been planning to do with his afternoon. But, as Katsuki gave the bag a few experimental jabs, then an undercut, then a short right hook, he realized that maybe Kirishima had a point. This would certainly be better than nothing.

So with a satisfactory grunt, Katsuki began. Keeping his elbow loose and close to his body, left foot forward, right foot back, fists held high, he jabbed the bag for real this time. Then he let out a few hooks, wides and shorts, then a few body-shots.

And he thought. He thought about his condition. He thought about his medicine, he thought about his parents and teachers, his training, how much he was being set back. How much he would rise above it all when this all boiled over. He imagined all of those souring thoughts to leave him, lifting weights off of his shoulders, burdening themselves on the bag instead with every hit.

When he felt his frustration building up to dangerous levels, he let out a cross with his back arm, lifting his right heal to help him carry through the motion, the extra momentum making a much stronger impact. Powerful. When his anger became too much, he would switch it up, hop back and test out a few kicks. But he wasn’t a fan of kicking as much lately, so he mostly stuck with the punches.

It didn’t take long for him to find a rhythm, a sequence that worked with the natural movements of his body. Jab, cross, hook, undercut. Over and over again. Eventually, he found himself bouncing from the ball of one foot to another, could feel his heart rate pick up, could feel his cheeks flush and his forehead acquire an even sheen of sweat, and everything started to recess to the background. And for just a moment, things were starting to melt away. In that one moment, he felt just a little bit free.

Goddamn, this really was cathartic.

But, it still wasn’t enough. It wasn’t long before it all came crashing back to him, the like the ocean tide reclaiming his thoughts to the depths. No matter how hard he swam against the current, no matter how many punches he threw, his mind sank back to how trapped he was. How fucked up everything was. How it had all turned to shit. He needed more distraction, needed to train harder, he couldn’t fall behind. Not again. It started consuming his mind, he had to do something else, something more.

With a snarl, Katsuki hit the bag with an open palm, and the sound of an explosion filled the room, so sudden that even he jumped a bit in surprise. As the little smoke cleared away, Katsuki lowered his hands to his side, panting, letting the familiar, comforting burning scent to fill his lungs.

 “You, uh… You okay?” a voice piped up behind him.

Damn, he had almost forgotten Kirishima was even there.

 “Felt good,” he grunted out.

Kirishima's voice turned hopeful. “Yeah?”

Katsuki turned to face him, his lips upturned into a devilish grin. “Fuck yeah.”

At first, Kirishima just looked at him, eyebrows raised, blinking. But then, he let out a smile, so wide it was nearly blinding.

“Glad to have you back.”

For a second, Katsuki froze. Those words, they were the same ones Kirishima had said before the dodgeball match, when Katsuki was allowed to train again. But this time, he got the feeling that Kirishima wasn’t talking about the training.

Katsuki nodded, to himself more than anything, his own grin refusing to leave his face.

Yeah. He was glad to be back, too.

For a few days, the punching bag became a normal, and quite welcomed part of his schedule. Every day after the class’ training, while Kirishima worked on homework, Katsuki would run a few drills. On Tuesday night, Kirishima even showed him a few exercises than an instructor had taught him a while back. They incorporated more footwork, more mobility, working with a wider range of muscle groups. More ways to spend his newly abundant energy reserves.

Because it was like two sides to the same coin. Right along with his energy, came that anger. And not just rumbling under his skin, either. By now, it had grown into a beast, fierce and untamed. It was everywhere, trying to consume him. And so were all of his other emotions. At least with a punching bag, he had an outlet.

But, hey. The flowers still hadn’t returned. Katsuki wasn’t so naïve to think that he was cured completely, but even so, some small part of him still wanted to hold onto hope that maybe, it was all over. He needed to get back to training already. Real training.

“Are you sure about this?”

Katsuki clicked his tongue impatiently. “Of course I am, Shitty Hair.”

“It’s just… Ehh, I’m not really sure we should be doing this.”

“Oh come on, you’re the one who’d been bugging me about this, for fucking ages.”

“That I have,” Kirishima gave a smug little grin. “Alright, in that case…” He rolled his shoulders, stretched the joints a bit. Katsuki did the same. “We’re gonna take things easy at first. Just to get you back into the swing of things.”

Katsuki sighed. “Right.”

“No quirks yet, though. No contact, either. Just…” The redhead let out an uneasy breath. Seems he was more nervous about this than he was willing to let on. “Just go through the moves in slow motion, see if you get dizzy at all, yeah? Maybe then, we can move up to something more. But if I think you should take a break, I’m calling ‘break’.”

“I don’t need to be fucking babied,” he snapped. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like waiting outside the nurse’s office for two hours again. Not to mention that your key swipe doesn’t work on these practice rooms anymore, right? You need me to get in here, so...” Kirishima shrugged. “I could always just, take back my offer…?”

Dammit, Kirishima had a point there. That asshole. Katsuki glared to the side, jaw clenched.

“So… you accept the terms?” Kirishima chirped. “Take it easy, slow-mo, no contact, no quirks, yeah? In the beginning, at least.”

“Whatever, just get on with it already.”

Kirishima brought his hands together in a clap. “Alrighty then. Let’s do this.”

He squared up with Katsuki, facing him head on, only a little less than a meter away. The stance he took was low, knees bent, a slight bounce to him as he shifted weight from one foot to the other. With a duck of his head, he brought his fists in front of his chest and face, like a boxer’s pose. Immediately, Katsuki mirrored his position.

Then, Kirishima brought a fist forward, aiming it at Katsuki’s face. It was fast, sure, but not anywhere close to speed, and with a swerve of his head, Katsuki could easily dodge it. In response, he aimed a hook at Kirishima’s jaw, just as slowly and without much force. Kirishima lifted an arm, his forearm blocking the hit.

Their ‘fight’ was more like a call-and-response. Their movements were too slow to be helpful, each so painstaking that it looked as if they were performing some bizarre dance with Kirishima taking the lead. He’d take a step forward, Katsuki would take a step back. One would attack, the other would defend, each taking their turns.

There was no spark behind their jabs, no intent to injure or to even make contact. Each of Kirishima’s hits stopped short of their targets, each implementation so predictable that Katsuki had no trouble dodging and retaliating in turn, and he had no choice but to match the nearly unbearable pace.

But after an agonizing minute or so at this speed, Kirishima let out an upper-cut that was just a little more forceful than any of the throws before it. Katsuki immediately noticed, and leaped back to dodge accordingly. Seemed as though things were kicking up a notch, and Katsuki was eager to match the new pace.

This pace had the hits coming faster, with more purpose behind them. The time between each attack lessened as well, so it was a lot easier to rely on instincts than think through every move. Just how Katsuki liked it. But, Kirishima was still holding back, tremendously. Even with the change, he still wasn’t aiming to hit. Even as Katsuki blocked and dodged, he could see that each strike stopped just short. If Katsuki chose to stand perfectly still, refuse to get out of the way, Kirishima’s jab would still probably not hit him.

It was absolutely maddening, nearly insulting. This half-assed bullshit wasn’t gonna cut it, he needed a full-on fight. He needed to actually train because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let himself fall any more behind than he already was. He needed to feel his muscles strain and feel the sweat on his brow. He had anger, and frustration, roaring inside of him for the first time in days and he needed to let it out, fight it all out. He was ready for it.

So with a bellow, Katsuki let his next punch make contact with Kirishima’s shoulder. Not too hard, but enough to take the guy by surprise and cause him to stumble on his footing a bit.

“Oi,” Kirishima grunted, hand instinctively reaching up to sooth the point of impact. After a quick roll of his shoulder, he turned back to Katsuki with a dangerous smile and a glint in his eye. The tension was nearly palpable. “Alright then, if you’re up for more...”

Kirishima stepped forward, and his next punch was fast, almost full-speed, a jab aimed straight at his face, and Katsuki was sure that if he hadn’t leapt to the side, he would have gotten a bloody nose.

That was more like it.

In this new off-centered position, Katsuki’s dominant arm was in the perfect position to strike Kirishima’s midsection. So he let out a body-shot, aiming for the underside of Kirishima’s ribcage. Kirishima pivoted to dodge, and the force of his own attempted punch caused Katsuki to lose balance and stagger forward. Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in his neck. He grunted, stumbling forward a few more steps, rubbing his nape. The bastard must have whacked him with his elbow, right where it hurt.

 “Break,” Kirishima puffed out through his deeper breathing. “Ohh man, I’ve missed this. Also, that was really good for having not trained in so long, although I suppose I don’t expect anything different from you—”

“What do you mean, ‘break’?” Katsuki growled. He turned to Kirishima, eyebrows lowered, a smirk on his lips. “Not when I’m just getting warmed up! Don’t underestimate me, bastard!”

Kirishima paused for a second, looking Katsuki up and down, seemingly considering his options. Finally, he shrugged. “Well, come on then. Show me what you’re made of.”

And the way he raised an eyebrow, playfully, like it was some sort of a challenge… in an instant, the cinders in Katsuki ignited into a full-blown fire. It was a challenge, one that he was sure to face head-on with all his might.

In a blink of an eye, Katsuki lunged toward him, trying to knock Kirishima off balance. Kirishima braced himself, widening his stance and holding his ground to withstand the attack. He even managed to aim a hit in the process, right at Katsuki’s stomach as he approached, nearly at full strength, and as the fist made impact, pain blossomed in Katsuki’s abdomen. He stumbled back. It hurt, but he’d had a lot worse than that. He breathed deeply, composing himself, giving himself a second to recover before an attack that was sure to follow.

Sure enough, this time Kirishima lunged at him, fist raised and ready to strike, his lack of subtlety giving Katsuki the chance to anticipate where it was aimed – his shoulder. He darted out of the way. With one hand, he grabbed the wrist of Kirishima’s punch, and with the other hand he whacked the inside of Kirishima’s elbow, forcing the arm to bend. Then, maintaining his strong hold on Kirishima, he pushed his entire body forward. In an instant, Kirishima pushed back, his arm folded up between them, their bodies so close that neither of them could attack with any significant momentum.

Now they were in gridlock, tension building even higher, like two head butting deer locked at the antlers. Their heavy grunts filled the room as they struggled for some sort of dominance, trying to push the other away first. And Katsuki could feel the sweat beginning to bead on his brow, could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Feelings that he had been missing, emotions that had been shrouded by static for so long were finally reaching the surface. It was exhilarating.

But it still wasn’t all there yet. He needed more, he needed to feel himself go all out, reach his full potential, like he hadn’t been able to do for weeks. He needed to feel the power in his hands, needed to feel the fire in his veins ignite between his fingers.

 “Quirks,” he managed to rumble out through clenched teeth.

Kirishima peered over to him, eyes wide. His hold slackened, just a bit as he panted, “Really?”

 “Quirks,” Katsuki grunted again. “Don’t you dare hold back.”

“Heh, if you say so...”

Suddenly, the skin underneath his fingertips became rigid, a tough armor, sharp and glossy like obsidian. Katsuki blasted into the quirked skin, the sparks offering the little push that he needed to get the upper hand. He pushed Kirishima away, aiming a blast towards his face.

The room erupted in light and a loud boom.

“Ha, you’re gonna have to do more than that to get me!” Kirishima croaked out a laugh as the smoke cleared around him. The top of his shirt was singed, and small puffs of smoke were rising from the tips of his hair, but otherwise, he looked fine. “I’ve improved since the sports festival, you know!”

“Yeah?” Katsuki grinned back, dangerous. “Then show me.”

With a bellow, Kirishima charged at him, letting out a tirade of throws, causing Katsuki to take the defensive as they took step after step, Kirishima pushing onwards and Katsuki having no choice but to fall back for the time being.

“I’ve learned control,” Kirishima panted between hits. “I’ve learned efficiency.” He threw another punch. “How to localize my quirk even more,” punch, “so it’s only activated where I need it most.”

The attacks kept coming. At this rate, Katsuki was going to get backed into a wall. He needed a way out, and fast. For just a second, there was an opening at Kirishima’s side, so he aimed a blast there.

Even if it didn’t do any damage, the force was enough to push Kirishima off of him, and Katsuki seized the opportunity to put some distance between them.

Kirishima just leered at him from across the way, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I told you, that won’t work on me.”

“Yeah, but what about when localization doesn’t matter?” Katsuki brought both of his hands out in front of him, palms facing forward. “Ya see, that’s the good thing about explosions – they aren’t very picky about their targets.”

Without warning, he fired his quirk, as big as he dared, loud and bright, hot waves exploding from his very fingertips, and god did it feel good. He let out a little laugh, not giving a single fuck about how absolutely bat-shit crazy it made him sound.

But then there was the smoke, thicker than it had been from the smaller blasts, and slow to clear in such a small, unventilated space. Through the veil, he could hear Kirishima in front of him, coughing as he scrambled to his feet. Then, there was just an eerie stillness. Katsuki lowered hands, listening closely for any sign of movement.

All of a sudden, to his left were footsteps, stomps, running, and with a shout, Kirishima burst from the smoke and bulldozed into Katsuki, tackling him down.

The next thing Katsuki knew, the back of his head was slamming into the ground, and his arms couldn’t move, his body couldn’t move. When he creaked his eyes open, he saw Kirishima looming over him, straddling his torso, pinning down his wrists.

The air was filled with their heavy panting, their chests expanding and contracting with each hot breath that mixed between them, the smell of their sweat as it beaded and trickled down their faces. Katsuki needed water, his mouth was dry. And, they were close. So close.

“Break,” Kirishima finally wheezed out.

Katsuki couldn’t find the will to object.

With a sigh, Kirishima released Katsuki’s wrists and brought his own forearm up to wipe the sweat away from his brow. His other hand grabbed the bottom hem of his shirt and waved it around, cooling off his chest. Meanwhile, Katsuki managed to prop himself up on his elbows, closing even more of a gap that was between them, head hung low, chin against his collarbone as he just let himself inhale, and exhale.

“Heh, see?” Kirishima breathed, a grin lighting up his face. “I’ve gotten better. You okay?”

“I’m…” Katsuki trailed off, still struggling to catch his breath. The weight on his chest was really not helping – nor was the fact that, even with the fight finished, the tension between them hadn’t yet dissipated. If anything, it was getting stronger. “Yeah,” was the only affirmation he could manage to croak out.

Kirishima looked down to him, his warm smile now radiating from ear to ear. “I can’t believe it.” His voice was airy. He leaned his head back as he took another deep breath, looking to the ceiling. “Hah! I won! Finally!”

He let out a weak little whoohoo, fist pumping the air in victory before promptly dropping to the ground beside him. He laughed as he brought his head back to look down at Katsuki. Tuffs of his ridiculous hair fell across his forehead, sticking to the sheen of sweat. The corners of his eyes were creased, from what must have been years of smiling and laughter, kindness, joy. His cheeks rosy and glistening, the small points of teeth showing between his lips, lips that were sure to still be upturned in a proud smile, pink, soft.

With a flicker of his eyes, Katsuki stole a glance, for just a moment. Some part of him wanted to know what they would feel like against his own.

And then, his eyes widened as realization slapped him in the face.

Because, right now, he wanted to kiss. He wanted to be kissed. He wanted to feel that stupid red hair between his fingers,  he wanted to feel hot breaths against his lips, wanted to feel sharp teeth bumping into his. For the first time in his life he wanted all of that.

They were close. So close.

His eyes snapped up to meet Kirishima’s gaze again.

Kirishima was still looking down at him. His smile had lessened, his face taking on a curious expression, head tilting to the side, just a bit, eyes wide, like he was in some sort of a confused trance. He lowered his own gaze, eyes fluttered close.

The air around them stilled, a beat speeding up in Katsuki’s chest. And maybe it was just his imagination, but the distance between them felt like it was disappearing, slowly. And it would be so easy to lean forward, just a little bit, close the last remains of the gap between them, press their lips together.

They were close. So damn close.

His heartbeat grew, louder and louder, pounding in his ears, deafening.

It would be so easy, and it was so fucking stupid.

His breaths came out shorter and shorter, his lungs burning.

Because there was no fucking way that Kirishima wanted it too.

Then, there was a fragrance in his lungs and throat and nose, overpowering, unmistakable.

Roses.

The blood in Katsuki’s veins turning to ice, his breath shuddering against Kirishima’s lips.

“Get off.”

Kirishima blinked his eyes open. “What?”

“Get off,” Katsuki growled, pushing Kirishima off of him. There was too much pressure in his chest, his lungs and heart screaming out, this was bad, shit, shit. He scrambled to his feet. “Fucking, stay away from me,” he snarled as he sprinted to the door.

“But… Bakugou, wait, I-I didn’t—”

The door slammed behind him, drowning out the shout. With a mad dash, Katsuki bolted down the hallways, skidding around corners until he found himself in the bathroom. Throwing a stall door open, he kneeled over the toilet, just in time for the coughing to begin.

And, once the coughing began, it wouldn’t stop.

And it was worse, so much worse than any time. It was as if the flowers had reawakened, and were determined to come back with an absolute vengeance. He hacked and gagged and hurled into the basin, his stomach lurching, lungs shuddering for breath, and it hurt like a motherfucker. It hurt so much, leaving his muscles tense and cramped and weak, limbs shaking, forehead clammy, eyes damp, his body screaming for oxygen.

The only chance that he had at actually stopping the petals, and in one moment, one stupid, impulsive moment, he flushed it away.

His hands grasped the seat of the toilet, knuckles white as more petals forced their way out, their scent more pungent and nauseating than ever. He kept gasping, hoping every heave would be the last. But as soon as it felt like they were relenting, they came back again, like a never-ending cycle, refusing to stop. Why wouldn’t they stop?

That medicine had been his only chance. His one chance, and he blew it.

Tears stung at the corner of his eyes, only one thought on his mind, a myriad, over and over again: make it stop. Make it stop, make it stop, please, just make it stop.

 “Uhhh… Bakugou?”

In an instant, Katsuki’s head snapped around, panic-stricken, coming face to face with candy-cane hair and a pair of concerned multicolor eyes.

Chapter Text

The thing about hunching over all undignified, coughing up bullshit flower petals into a toilet in some bathroom stall, is that, generally, it’s supposed to be a pretty private affair. It’s draining. Confusing. Downright humiliating. Not something to show the world. And definitely not something to be interrupted.

But apparently, Half-n-Half didn’t get the fucking memo. That bastard.

There he  stood, drenched in sweat from what must have been his own workout, just… staring. His expression was so devoid of emotion that it was downright freaky, eyes not hesitating to stare into Katsuki’s like the guy was trying to read him. And for several moments, Katsuki could only stare back, frozen, wide-eyed, horrified. It felt like his stomach had  just dropped away.

“Leave,” he finally managed to croak out.

Todoroki’s head tilted. He took a step forward. “Bakugou—?”

“—Leave.” Katsuki’s voice erupted into a snarl, and for a moment, he tried to scramble to his feet, legs shaking, palms already beginning to smoke even as they pressed against the toilet seat for leverage. “Get out, you bastard! I’ll—”

But before any semblance of a threat could cross his lips, before his quirk could fully ignite, another wave of coughing overcame him. He sank back to his knees as he hacked, bringing fingers to his lips a moment too late, unable to stop the petals that fell out between them. They fluttered down his front, one by one, deep scarlet piling on the tile floor.

Todoroki watched them fall curiously, eyebrows raised in surprise, and Katsuki wanted to scream. He wanted to yell, shout out curses at the world, but the roses wouldn’t let him. They choked back his words, restraining him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. With a snap of his head, he lurched back over the toilet as even more petals forced their way out.

Katsuki’s body continued to riot against the flowers with all of his strength, leaving his arms shaking, chest heaving, head swimming. It had never been this bad before. He had fucked up. His body just wanted to give out, give up. Along with the floral scent was a new taste tingeing the back of his tongue, sharp, metallic, blood.

Shit.

He had fucked up big time.

His eyelids were screwed shut so tight that swirls of white were starting to dance behind them, and he was only vaguely aware of a figure – fucking Todoroki, he reminded himself bitterly – approaching him, lowering to his level, a hand patting awkwardly against his back, as if that was going to help a single fucking thing. And Katsuki wanted nothing more than to fight against it, wanted nothing more than to be left to deal with this in peace. But his body was trembling so much, making him weak, and he couldn’t do a single fucking thing about it.

With several quick gasps for air, the petals finally petered out. Katsuki watched as a string of saliva dripped from his mouth, red mixing with the clear, the strong taste of blood still lingering on his tongue. He inhaled as deeply as he dared, feigning black-out, before sitting back on his heels. But even that was too much effort, so finally, he collapsed to sitting, leaning his back against the stall wall, eyes shut as he just breathed, allowing the silence to settle around them.

And then, Katsuki wanted to laugh. Because that nosy bastard was still there, kneeling right next to him, probably still watching him like some fucking creep. Would he be disgusted? Just plain confused? This was already shaping up to be one of the shittiest situations in his entire life, but at least he had one thing to look forward to. The look on Todoroki’s usually vacant face was sure to be fucking priceless.

But when Todoroki finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly composed. “Do you have medicine?”

He sounded much too close. Katsuki growled in warning. Stay back.

“Bakugou,” Todoroki tried again, a hint of irritation coloring his otherwise monotone voice. “Surely you take medicine or something, where is it?”

Honestly, of all the questions Katsuki had been expecting, that had definitely not been one of them. But, Todoroki was a guy of few words, relatively speaking. Maybe, through his disgust and confusion, he still managed to select the most essential ones.

But when Katsuki opened his eyes, coming face-to-face with a kneeling Todoroki, the guy didn’t look disgusted. He didn’t look confused. His eyes weren’t bugging out of his skull. There was no gaping fish mouth, or lip upturned in repulsion. He didn’t even look entirely surprised. In his eyes was only worry. And it was so goddamn unsatisfying, what the fuck was up with this guy?

“Don’t have any,” Katsuki grunted, looking away.

“Why not?”

“Threw ‘em away.”

When at first no response came, Katsuki stole a glance in Todoroki’s direction. Todoroki was just staring at him, again, like it was the only thing he was good for.

“… What are you, an idiot?” The guy finally mumbled, monotone, a sigh the only sign of what must have been exasperation.

And that should have made Katsuki’s blood absolutely boil. And it did, a little bit, but what he had done was really fucking stupid, and he knew it. So he only snorted, closing his eyes again as he leaned his head back against the stall.

He didn’t owe an explanation to anyone, much less to this nosy icy-hot bastard.

His head was still swimming, pounding.

“They were fucking with my brain.” Katsuki cleared his throat. “They made me dizzy, made me fall. So I flushed them. I wasn’t gonna train on that shit.”

“That’s only going to make things worse, you know.”

“Go to hell.”

For a moment, silence surrounded them again. Then, with a grunt, Todoroki began to move, and Katsuki realized he was standing. Was… was he actually leaving? The toilet flushed, taking the petals with it, but even over the rushing water, Katsuki could sense that Todoroki wasn’t going anywhere.

“Come on,” Todoroki finally spoke. “Let’s go to Recovery Girl.”

Katsuki creaked his eyes open, focusing on the hand that was reaching down to him. As if he was going to take it or something.

He swatted the hand away.

Almost immediately, there was a strong, cold grip on his bicep, trying to pull him to his feet. “Don’t be stubborn, get up.”

“Stop fucking manhandling me.”

“I’ll stop manhandling you when you get up. I’m not leaving you on the bathroom floor.”

Katsuki scowled. It was humiliating, because dammit, Todoroki was strong. But, as much as he did not want to take Todoroki’s hand, just a few minutes ago he had been coughing up blood. He had his pride, sure, but Katsuki wasn’t stupid, and he needed to go to the nurse. Honestly, though, even with help, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stand on his own without his legs collapsing underneath him. He was in no state to fight this, and he knew it. So, he gave in.

As soon as he stopped resisting, Todoroki’s grip slacked, just a bit. He tugged on Katsuki’s arm, Katsuki using his other hand to push himself off of the tiles. By keeping his back against the stall, he could use it as extra support as he stood on his wobbly legs. His head was swimming, lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but he was on his feet.

Todoroki slung Katsuki’s arm around his shoulders, and the two of them slowly exited the stall. After leading them to the sinks, Todoroki turned on a faucet. He didn’t say a word, but Katsuki understood. He cupped his free hand under the running water and brought it to his lips, swishing it around before spitting it out again. The water was stained light pink, bright against the porcelain. The metallic taste in his mouth had abated, just a bit. He took another palm-full and gulped it down, giving his throat some much-needed relief. With water dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt, Katsuki turned off the faucet, giving a slight nod. He was ready to go on.

They walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway side by side. Todoroki was several centimeters taller than him, which made their position feel all the more awkward, and the hand pressing harshly into his waist to keep him upright was definitely not appreciated. It was a slow process, slower than it needed to be, but it seemed like Todoroki wasn’t willing to take any chances. And frankly, neither was Katsuki. The last thing he wanted to do was faint.

As they passed the training rooms, Katsuki couldn’t help but steal a glance through their windows. Kirishima was already gone. That was probably for the best. Kirishima wouldn’t have to see him like this.

They continued out of the training facilities and onto the main quad, making their way towards the academic building that lay only a couple of yards away. Katsuki scanned the area swiftly, following a few far-away students as they roamed the campus. It was after classes, but not quite dinner yet, so there were few students outside – most importantly, none that he recognized. No one to witness him in this hopeless, pathetic state. They entered the academic building without incident.

There was still no denying how embarrassing this all was, but as much as he hated relying on the guy like some sort of weakling, at least Todoroki stayed quiet. Todoroki didn’t ask questions. The same could probably not be said for most of his other classmates. And for that, Katsuki couldn’t help but feel just a tiny bit… thankful.

By the time he and Todoroki reached the elevator, Katsuki had managed to push himself off of Todoroki’s shoulders, settling for a strong grip around the guy’s upper arm for support instead. Todoroki made no comment. The entire elevator ride was silent, uncomfortable – Katsuki, too busy sulking and trying to keep the rage that was bubbling inside of him in check, and Todoroki, too busy keeping to himself. Who knew what he was thinking about?

After one final stretch of hallway, the two finally reached the nurse’s office. Todoroki brought his knuckles to the door, rapping firmly against it.

“Come in,” Recovery Girl’s voice called out. Todoroki slid the door open just as she began swiveling around in her chair. “What can I help you with…?” She trailed off, eyes settling on Katsuki. “Oh dear.”

 “He was coughing up petals, and blood.” Todoroki’s voice was urgent, but unwavering. Far more composed than he had any right to be in this situation.

Recovery Girl let out a long, resigned sigh. “I feared something like this would happen. Did you forget to take your medicine this morning?”

Before Katsuki even had a chance to open his mouth, Todoroki cut him off. “Said he threw them away.”

With eyebrows raised, Recovery Girl let out a tutting sound. “Set him down on a cot. And, stick around. I may need you.”

Todoroki nodded, maneuvering the two of them as best he could across the room and dropped Katsuki off on the edge of the mattress before taking his seat in the visitor’s chair.

After donning rubber gloves, Recovery Girl rolled her swivel chair over, inserting a stethoscope into her ears and motioning for Katsuki to turn around. He did as best as he could, sitting at an angle so his back was mostly to her. She reached under his shirt and the cold circle of the stethoscope against his back sent chills up and down his spine.

“Breathe deeply.”

He did as she said.

“Good.” She moved the stethoscope a few inches to the right. “And again…”

Between his breaths, she repositioned the stethoscope several more times. Katsuki could feel how his breathing was shaky, strained. Shallow. No doubt she could tell. After a few more movements, she pulled his shirt down. Katsuki turned to face her again.

“What were you doing that set it off?”

No use lying. “Sparring.”

“With who?”

Katsuki shuddered. There was a memory, red hair, a bright face looming over him, imagination spiraling out of control, pressing lips against his, lips that had been so close before, and in an instant, Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat. The squeezing in his chest returned, the sickening scent tickling the back of his throat. He nearly doubled over, coughing into his inner elbow. The petals came out, scarlet tainting scarlet, mouth filled with the flavor of roses and a tinge of blood.

Recovery Girl observed him closely. There was something knowing in her eyes. “Todoroki, could you please pass Bakugou the box of tissues on my desk?”

Todoroki obliged immediately. Katsuki glared as he approached, grabbing the box from his hands, watching Todoroki return to his seat before wiping up his petals.

“To be clear, blood is not a good sign,” Recovery Girl explained. “Could just be all that coughing rubbing your throat raw… or, it could be internal damage from the rose thorns. And after hearing your breathing, I think it’s the latter. They’ve gotten out of control.” She hopped down from her seat and approached the cot. “Sit still, let me heal you.”

Katsuki did as he was told, sat still while she pecked his forehead. No matter how humiliating it was, he couldn’t deny that she had an amazing quirk. He could actually feel some hidden stinging in his chest lighten up. Not long after, a wave of exhaustion overcame him.

“Feel better?”

He looked away, nodding.

“Good.” She returned to her chair. “Now, why did you throw out your medicine?”

“It was messing with my training.”

“Hanahaki is messing with your training,” Recovery Girl corrected flatly. She rolled to her computer and began typing away at her keyboard, filling in what must have been some sort of a report. “Is today the first time the petals returned?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded. “When was the last time you took anything?”

“About a week ago.”

Her typing came to an abrupt halt. After a beat, she turned slowly to him.

“You’ve been off your medication for a week.”

Her words were slow. Deliberate. It didn’t sound like a question, either, yet it seemed like she was waiting for an answer.

So Katsuki just dropped his shoulders. Gave a little shrug. “Yeah.”

Recovery Girl’s lips pursed into a thin line. “You should never do something like that. Medicines are chemicals that affect your body, and to take that away… it can do some serious harm.”

 Katsuki looked at the floor, fists clenched in his lap. He knew it had been a fucking stupid move. He knew that, dammit.

Recovery Girl just let out another long sigh. “I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. Only surprised you didn’t have to come and see me sooner.” She finished typing a few last notes onto her computer before reaching out and taking her phone in her hand. “I will call your parents, and your doctor, so they are aware of the situation. They’ll be the ones to decide what to do about your treatment.”

Whatever conversations she had to have, must have been conversations that she did not want Katsuki to hear, for in a matter of moments Recovery Girl had stood out of her chair and crossed the room, sliding the door open then shut behind her. Leaving Todoroki and Katsuki entirely alone.

The silence that surrounded them became uncomfortable in a single instant. It crept under Katsuki’s skin, made him seethe, made him want to fight or flee. He looked down at his hands in his lap, clenching his fists until his fingernails left little crescents indented into his palms.

Looking for a distraction from it all, Katsuki slid into the cot, his back against the wall, looking at literally anything other than that half-n-half bastard. It was that guy’s fault he was even here in the first place, a growling part of his brain insisted. But Katsuki knew that wasn’t the truth. It was his own damn fault. Of course it was, he’d have to be a fucking idiot to think otherwise. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about Todoroki being there either.

They sat in this absolute quiet for what must have been several minutes, the faint sound of Recovery Girl’s phone calls drifting into the room.

 “Why the fuck are you even still here?” He finally piped up. The aggravation was nearly palpable.

For a while, there was no response. Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki could only see Todoroki’s still form, his steadfast gaze staring straight through him. Watching. Thinking. Why wasn’t he answering? Why was he always so damn quiet? On one hand, it was a fucking blessing, it would have been worse if the guy was talkative. But in this moment, with all the questions that were no doubt racing around that guy’s head, Katsuki would rather get it over with than sit in silent, hair-pulling anticipation.

Finally, Todoroki shifted in his seat. Swallowed a lump in his throat.

“It’s Kirishima, isn’t it?”

Katsuki’s eyes widened. He lurched forward, bringing a hand to his mouth, and no matter how much he tried to push it down, it wasn’t long before he was hacking the petals out of his lungs again.

“What the fuck, Todoroki?” He wheezed out between coughs.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”

At least there wasn’t blood this time. As the coughing fit finally passed, Katsuki rested his forehead against his palms and just let himself breathe for a few moments. When it felt like air had sufficiently returned to him, he ripped a few tissues from their box, cleaning what petals had fluttered about. With one well-aimed shot, the tissues landed in the waste basket by Recovery Girl’s desk before resting against the metal headboard again.

Okay, that time had definitely been Todoroki’s fault. That fucker. Katsuki clenched his jaw, folding his arms across his chest, settling for looking out the window. As Katsuki watched the sun as it sank lower and lower in the sky with each minute that passed, silence surrounded them once more. And he thought.

And the more Katsuki thought, the more questions he needed answers for. It began as a small itch of curiosity, but it blossomed into something unavoidable. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, allowing his raspy voice to carry around the room.

“How do you know?”

At first, there was only the sound of Recovery Girl’s muffled voice through the doorway. Maybe Todoroki was surprised that he had spoken at all. But then there was a shifting in a chair, followed by a clear voice.

“You two have been through a lot together. There’s no one else it could be—”

“—No.”  Katsuki turned to Todoroki, his stare steadfast, his eyes burning. “How do you know?”

For a split second, Todoroki’s eyes widened. It was quickly replaced by his typical expression, and he stared back, his face blank. But Katsuki had seen it, how caught off-guard he had been.  He noticed the way Todoroki had straightened in his chair, had swallowed a lump in his throat. The guy had given himself away – he was nervous.

Their gazes did not waver for quite a while, like they were in some sort of a stand-off. Finally, Todoroki opened his mouth, as if to respond.

Just then, the door slid open, and the tension released its hold on them. Todoroki broke eye contact, watching Recovery Girl as she made her way to her chair.

“Your father will be on his way shortly, and until this is resolved, you’ll be staying at home.” She took a seat and turned to Todoroki. “Thank you for bringing him in, and for watching after him. I can take it from here. You may return to your dorm.”

Todoroki stood to his feet quickly – too quickly – giving her a curt nod before walking to the door. Katsuki couldn’t help but stare after him, his mind a whirl of confusion and shock and the frustration of too many things left unanswered.

Recovery Girl sighed, watching as the door slid shut. “You are very lucky that it was Todoroki who found you.” Her words were slow, deliberate. “Otherwise, you would have had a lot more explaining to do.”

“… He knows what this is.” It wasn’t a question.

Recovery Girl rolled to her desk, forgoing a reply.

Katsuki looked to her sharply, brows furrowed. “How?” he demanded. “I thought it was supposed to be rare.”

As if blatantly ignoring him, Recovery Girl began typing again. And it was so frustrating, the feeling like he was being kept in the dark. He looked back down to his lap. He just wanted to understand.

After a moment, the computer clicking paused, and Recovery Girl’s voice cut heavily through the quiet.

“Two people, in close proximity of each other, developing the same rare condition… it seems statistically unlikely. And it would be, if the condition developed randomly. But usually, there are factors that contribute to susceptibility. Meaning, certain populations are at greater risk of developing certain conditions. Hanahaki Disorder is no different. And, love is not the only causal factor.”

The way she said it, expression solemn, with an air of finality, made it seem like that was all she had to say on the matter. But there were still things Katsuki needed to know. Things he needed to be certain of.

“What else is there?” He tried again, struggling to keep the edge of desperation out of his voice. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m afraid, UA’s carelessness has put our students at greater risk.”

The following silence pounded against his eardrums, brain on overdrive, trying to digest this new information. He still didn’t know what it all meant, but he had a sinking suspicion, one that made his stomach plummet, and a part of Katsuki felt like he was beginning to understand more about his icy-hot classmate than he had ever wanted to. But another part of him was left with more questions than answers, and the frustration of uncertainty just kept eating away at him.

Recovery Girl spoke again, dragging Katsuki out of his shell-shocked reverie.

“I assume that your condition is being triggered by one of your classmates?”

The way she paused, looking to him, it was as if she was waiting for affirmation. But Katsuki couldn’t say it, couldn’t nod. Affirmation would be admittance, and he couldn’t admit it, not even to himself. Not yet. So he just stared straight ahead.

“That complicates things, quite a bit,” she continued, seeming to take his silence as confirmation anyways.

Katsuki let out a sigh, letting his eyelids flutter closed. “So what happens now?”

“Are you asking me about your treatment?”

He nodded.

“Well, that will ultimately be for you and your parents to decide with your doctor. A more long-term option would be a surgical procedure to remove the flowers, but there have been so few patients that not much is known about its effects. In this way, it’s risky and unpredictable. When I spoke with them on the phone, neither your doctor nor your parents were too keen on it – and frankly, neither am I.”

“Then what else is there?” He couldn’t help but clench his jaw, his words pressing between his teeth. “There has to be something.”

“I have suggested a lower dosage of your previous medication. The side effects won’t be as strong, but that means the medicine itself won’t be as effective either. The petals would be subdued, but they may not go away entirely.”

“So I’m just, supposed to live with the petals?”

“That might be all you can do. The only other option would be removing you from the trigger.” Recovery Girl leaned back in her chair. “Even if you are put back on medication, it’s quite likely that your doctor or UA faculty will decide that the best course of action moving forwards is to move you to Class 1B.”

The words engraved themselves into his mind, repeating, echoing, until they didn’t even feel real anymore.

Class 1B.

Katsuki ducked his head, heart absolutely sinking. He scrunched his eyes shut, as if hoping that would make it all go away.

“Your father should be here within the hour. Until then, you best get some rest.”

The ride home was awfully quiet.

His dad wasn’t usually the type of guy who would let awkward silences last, he’d rather ramble on about nothing just to hear his voice fill empty space. So it was really fucking freaky to not hear a single word from him, but oddly enough, he kept his mouth shut. It was a relief, really. There was too much thinking to do anyways.

The scenery whizzed past them, but it faded into the background. There was only the vague sense of scenery becoming more and more familiar as they approached home.

Home.

In a way, home was a relief too. No Kirishima, who had no idea what he did to Katsuki. No Todoroki, who knew all too much. But, on the other hand, he was just falling more and more behind, wasn’t he? He should be in class. Should be training. He wanted to be a hero, and he would never give up on that, but taking pit stops every week or two was only going to make things harder. How long would be be home? A day? A month?

And what might await his return? The other hero course. That shouldn’t have mattered, it really shouldn’t have. Class 1B was just as much a part of the UA Hero Course as Class 1A. Wasn’t like he knew all of his current classmates anyways. He just needed to change dorms, get his new schedule. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

But, the way his stomach had dropped, the way the utter dejection had rendered him feeling hopeless… the way he wanted to yell and shout in objection, the way he was willing to do just about whatever it would take to stop that from happening…

It did matter. It mattered a lot.

A small voice in his head wondered why. But, he knew why.

Finally, they pulled into the driveway, and it started to sink in, just what was coming for him. The drive had just been the calm before a storm. What was sure to be a very large, very angry storm.

Sure enough, as Katsuki toed off his shoes and stepped out of the genkan, the storm reared its head.

“Katsuki!”

His mother immediately looked up from where she was seated at the kitchen table. She stood to her feet quickly and rushed across the room to them. For a moment, her eyes were wide, almost lost. They searched Katsuki’s face, as if making sure he was all there and that he was alright. Katsuki had only seen her look like that twice before, as if she just wanted to embrace him and all of that sappy shit. It wasn’t like her.

But then, her eyebrows drew together, her distress giving way to rage.

“And just what sort of bullshit were you trying to pull?”

He kept his eyes low, his lips pulled back in a snarl as he pushed past her. “Leave me alone.”

“Not until I have answers,” she called after him, hot on his tail. “I can’t believe you would do something so irresponsible, something so reckless. It was dangerous, when we got the call from the nurse I was worried sick. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Katsuki tried blocking out her nagging, but she was so damn loud and his blood was boiling already. If he couldn’t try blocking her out mentally, he just had to try something else. Some sort of a distraction. If it annoyed her, that was even better. So instead of locking himself in his room, Katsuki headed straight towards the living room, petulantly grabbing the remote and turning on the news before plopping down on the couch. His mother groaned from behind him.

“Mitsuki,” he heard dad’s voice carry faintly over the newscasters, “Maybe we should give him some space…”

“He needs to take some fucking responsibility first. An explanation, at the very least!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Turned up the volume.

That did nothing to stop his mother. She marched into the room, standing between him and the TV. “Why did you stop taking your medicine in the first place? Where is it now?”

“In the sewers,” he gritted out from between his teeth, “Where garbage like that belongs.”

“What?” his mom practically shrieked.

Katsuki turned up the volume more, until he started to hear base frequencies rumble in his chest.

“Nope, no siree, we’re talking about this right now. Turn that off.”

She stormed to the television and pressed the power button, turning to him, brows furrowed in both anger and confusion. He blinked up at her.

After a moment, she placed a hand on her hip and sighed. “Katsuki, why the fuck would you throw your medicine away? You know it’s supposed to help you, right?”

“Fucking obviously.” He leaned back in the couch, pouting, waiting for the cushions to swallow him right up. “I’m not an idiot.”

“See, you do know, yet you stopped taking it anyways.” She brought her fingers to her temple, rubbing whatever headache she must have had there. “Is this… I don’t know, one of those problem-with-authority things? Teenage rebellion? A way to disillusion yourself into thinking that you have control over the disorder? Something like that?”

He let out a huff, head shaking in disbelief. He hated when his mom tried to psychoanalyze him.

With another groan, she waved her arms around in frustration, “Then I just, don’t understand why you’d do something like that. There’s gotta to be a reason, right? …Right?”

She looked desperately to the space behind Katsuki – where his dad must have been – as if asking for help. He heard his dad clear his throat.

“You’re a smart kid, Katsuki.” He slowly stepped into Katsuki’s line of vision. “I know you are, I tell you that all the time.” His dad’s voice was calm, but his body was rigid. Stressed. Completely out of his element. “And, your mother’s right. Doing something like that without a good reason just doesn’t sound like you.” He sat down next to Katsuki on the couch, letting out a long, resigned sigh as he did. “We just want to understand.”

Katsuki didn’t acknowledge him. Either of them, not even while they were waiting for him to respond. He couldn’t, not for some time. Not when there was finally some peace and quiet. He just stared straight ahead, jaw gritted, leg bouncing. It was better that way. He didn’t have to look at the disappointment on their faces.

Finally, he let in a slow breath. “It made me dizzy,” he mumbled.

His dad was the first to speak up. “Dizzy?”

Katsuki nodded. “Some inner ear thing. When I fell, that was the medicine’s fault. They wouldn’t let me train.”

There was more. Of course there was, but he didn’t want to say it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his dad nod, satisfied with the answer, and that was a relief.

But his mom just brought her hand to her chin, deep in thought. She paced the floor, something she always had done to help her work through problems.

“That still doesn’t make sense to me,” she started slowly, and Katsuki let out a grunt, because of course that wasn’t good enough for her. She was too damn good at reading him. “If the side-effects were bothering you that much, you still should have talked to Dr. Yamakawa. Stopping anything cold-turkey is dangerous, I know you know that.”

“Of course I know that,” Katsuki rolled his eyes, set his jaw. He wasn’t just gonna take her talking to him like an idiot. He gathered up all of the frustration, all of the attitude, all of the sass that he could muster. “What if I just didn’t want to take the medicine?”

His mom leaned on one hip, arms crossed. Her eyebrow arched. “Mhm? Why wouldn’t you?”

“That’s easy, I wanted to piss you off specifically.”

“Nice try, smartass.”

With a growl, he stood to his feet, facing her head on. “I’m a stupid, ungrateful brat who takes things for granted.”

“Except I know you aren’t! There has got to be something else going on, something you aren’t telling us, why else would you —”

“Oh, I don’t fucking know, maybe I just honest-to-fucking-God didn’t want to take it! Fucking sue me.”

“But why not? What’s the point in that?”

“I told you, you old hag, I couldn’t train on that shit!”

 “Well clearly, you can’t train off that shit either, so what you’re saying doesn’t make any sense—”

“—Because I couldn’t feel anything anymore!”

In an instant, the tension between them shattered, leaving only silence. There the two stood, staring at each other, chests rising and falling with each inhale and exhale.

His mother’s rage dropped from her face. In its place was only confusion.

“… What?”

He couldn’t look at it. He screwed his eyes shut, his breaths becoming shaky.

“I couldn’t feel, at all,” the broken words tumbled out of his mouth, just as uncontrollable as the petals, bearing it all, “Couldn’t feel, not for anything, not for him, I…”

His body was trembling. He wouldn’t say it.

 “Katsuki…” His mom’s voice was soft. Patient. She didn’t usually sound like that. He heard her step towards him. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He shook his head, tears starting to sting at his waterline. He couldn’t say it.

 There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Katsuki?”

 “I…” His jaw wobbled, broken voice hitching in his throat.

He creaked his eyes open, lifted his head until he met hers.

He couldn’t say it. Couldn't admit it. But he didn’t have to. She already knew.

"... Mom..."

And finally, his tears began falling.

Arms wrapped around him, holding him close, but he couldn’t feel them. There were whispers, soft words of comfort in his ears, but he couldn’t hear them. There was a scent in his nose, a squeezing in his lungs, petals falling all around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. They didn’t hurt. Not compared to the hopelessness he felt.

Because, it was hopeless. He knew it was, he had known all along, since the very beginning. The doctor had made it very clear.

‘A person who is susceptible to developing Hanahaki Disorder is someone who experiences a deep love that is unrequited.’

Unrequited.

And why would Kirishima love someone like him?

Chapter Text

For a while, there was only the pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was just the medicine working, Katsuki,” his mom breathed. “Just the medicine, that’s all.”

“It’s bullshit,” he muttered into her shoulder.

“I know, Katsuki, I know.”

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

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

“—I’ll uh, go get him some water,” his dad piped up quickly, rising to his feet.

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

But finally, he managed to speak.

“What do I do?”

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

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

“Fuck. I can’t fall behind.” He ran a hand down his face. “Not anymore.”

“We’ll get UA to send a tutor.”

“And training?”

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

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

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

Katsuki shrugged.

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

Katsuki growled under his breath. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

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

“Katsuki!” His mom’s voice suddenly carried loud and clear from the ground floor. “They’re here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “She looks just like you,” Todoroki finally spoke.

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

“You were a cute kid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katsuki sighed. Fair enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamnit.

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

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

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

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

“Hey you two! Start wrapping it up!”

“One moment!”

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

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

Eyes fixed ahead of him, he took a breath. “You haven’t told anyone?”

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

Katsuki turned his head, letting his voice carry over his shoulder. “And you won’t tell anyone, yeah?”

“Of course not.”

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

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

And that was that.

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

“Please, please actually take these.”

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes bulged as something in his chest tightened painfully.

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

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

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

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

All out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bakugou, where are you—”

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

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

 “—Yes, but from your position as homeroom teacher… do you truly find it necessary?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “… So, UA would like to know your decision as soon as possible.”

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

He cleared his throat.

“So. What do you take?”

Todorok’s writing stopped. “… What?”

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

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

“…What do you mean?”

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

There was no way Katsuki was wrong about this.

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

“No.”

Katsuki’s pencil stopped.

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

He had been so sure, too.

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

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

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

 “I…” Todoroki sighed. “I don’t have it now,” he spoke, finally, keeping his eyes locked on the ground. “But. I did.”

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

A shaky breath passed between his lips, shattering the silence. “You…?”

Todoroki turned away, just a fraction. “Yeah.”

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

“What happened?” Katsuki called after him.

 “I had surgery.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine. Little numb.”

“A… reasonable level of numbness?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s permanent, isn’t it?”

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

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

“We just don’t know how your body would react—”

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

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

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

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

“—Well good thing that’s my fucking decision to make,” Katsuki growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“More about what?”

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

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

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

Todoroki shrugged. “A couple months ago. I didn’t have it for long, because, well…”

Right. “The surgery,” Katsuki finished for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened then?” He asked.

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

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

“I’m telling you,” Todoroki’s words were clipped, stern; “you don’t want the surgery.”

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

“It’s just not some grand fix to the problem, okay? Don’t treat it like that”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Katsuki just stared at him, aghast.

“You don’t know who it is.”

It wasn’t a question.

Todoroki’s shoulders tensed even more than they already were. “Get back to work,” he said.

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

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

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

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

Then, with a tilt of his head, eyebrows scrunched together, Katsuki spoke. “Is… that why you’re usually so….?”

“Why I’m so what?”

Katsuki only stared at him. “… Blank?”

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

“Right.”

So, he really was just Like That.

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

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

“Well it doesn’t matter anyways,” Katsuki finally mumbled, passively. “I’m transferring classes next week.”

There was a sharp inhale beside him. “…What?”

So Aizawa hadn’t said anything yet.

“Yeah. I’m moving to Class 1B.”

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

Todoroki tapped his pencil against his paper a few times. “Who’s gonna switch places with you?”

“No idea.”

“Well that… sucks.”

“You don’t fucking say.”

“Are you okay?”

Was that… concern?

Katsuki lifted and dropped his shoulders limply. “It’s whatever.”

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

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

Todoroki continued. “You still have feelings for him, don’t you?”

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

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

“Sorry.”

“You did that on purpose didn’t you? You fucker.”

“Swear I didn’t.”

“Whatever,” Katsuki tched.

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

“Why does he bother with worrying about me anyways?” He muttered. “‘S not his business.”

“He’s your best friend.”

“Don’t go throwing around labels for us, fucker.”

“Okay.”

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

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

Katsuki froze. “’Easy way out’?”

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

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

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

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

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

Todoroki spoke.

“Don’t throw it away.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s Mr. Aizawa.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

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

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

“I did my research,” he piped up.

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

“Regardless of what I found, you shouldn’t have made that sort of decisions without me.”

 “Katsuki—”

“Let me speak.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So please,” he breathed, dreading the answer that may come, “Please tell me they don’t know.”

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

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

“And you won’t?”

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

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

So, much to his parents relief, he nodded.

“Okay. Whatever, then it’s settled. I concede.”

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

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

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

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

“He’s just up in his room,” he heard his mom say.

“Dinner’s almost done,” he heard his father say.

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

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

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

Kirishima was standing in his doorway.

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

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

He blinked, snapping out of it.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

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

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

‘Don’t throw it away.’

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

And yup. Kirishima still sucked at math.

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

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

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

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

She shook it a little. Take it.

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

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

He didn’t have the patience for her sass today, so he muttered a sour “Just leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Bakugou?”

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

…This entire time, Kirishima had been worrying about that?

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

“Just friends...” Kirishima agreed.

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

“Just friends.”

He closed his eyes.

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

But it was not Katsuki’s.

Chapter Text

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

But it was not Katsuki’s.

Katsuki blinked a few times. For several moments, that was the only thing he could do, his brain was too occupied with thoughts of ‘What The Fuck’ to do much else.

The sound of labored breathing filled the room – Kirishima’s breaths, heavy and coarse. His shoulders shuddered with every inhale and exhale, hand clenched desperately at his chest as if hoping to relieve the discomfort, the pain. As time passed, slowly, Kirishima’s breathing evened out to a more manageable pant. He reached up to wipe away the strand of saliva that had been dripping from his mouth.

Kirishima stared down wide-eyed at the petal that lay in his lap.

After a beat, he cleared his throat. “O-kaay…?”

The sound of his voice snapped everything back into focus. The ‘What the Fuck’s that had been circling around in his head diminished, but were quickly replaced by a new thought – ‘No one told me this shit was contagious’.

Kirishima’s eyebrows knitted together. The longer he studied the petal – poking at it, lifting it to eye-level, examining it – the more uneasy his expression became.

“What in the world…?” he muttered.

Curiously, he held the petal up to the light, like a cashier testing a bill for authenticity. Then he dropped it, as if spooked. As if reality was finally setting in, as if panic was finally setting in.

“I-I don’t…” He stumbled, the words catching in the back of his throat. “This is… I’ve never… I’m sorry but what the hell is this?”

“Hanahaki,” Katsuki stated dumbly. His mouth was dry. “Hanahaki Disorder. It’s… rare,” he added, because yeah, it was rare, so this shouldn’t be possible.

Kirishima lifted his head, doe-eyed. “Flower… spit-up?” A tense sort-of laugh escaped between his lips. “Well, they certainly call it what it is. But, what’s…?” he trailed off, an edge of panic creeping into his voice once again. “I-I still don’t understand.”

It wasn’t like Katsuki did, either. No one did. Even so, Kirishima deserved as good an explanation as Katsuki could offer. But the shock was still fogging up his head. This illness that had plagued him, rendering him useless for weeks... How could he even begin to explain something like that?

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Come on Bakugou, you’re making me nervous.” Kirishima scratched the back of his neck. “You know what this is, right?”

He certainly did know what it was, it had been his own personal hell for the past month. He knew it all too well. And he knew this shit wasn’t contagious. Which meant…

Katsuki blinked. “Do you love me?”

Kirishima’s cheeks went pale.

“W… What??” he squeaked.

With a palm pressed against his floor, Katsuki turned onto a knee, facing Kirishima head-on. “Kirishima…”

He let out a little amused huff, because the fog was finally clearing from his mind and everything was starting to fall into place and it was ridiculous. It didn’t make sense, it was too good to be true, and yet, the crimson petal spelled it out in bold. And, maybe he was being too confrontational. Maybe he was being a little unfair. But he had to know for sure.

“Do you love me?”

In an instant, the world around them froze, like it was holding its breath alongside them. A journey crossed Kirishima’s face. First were his wide eyes, reluctant, disbelieving. Then was his gaze retreating, hazy and unfocused, as if searching within himself for an answer that he wasn’t even sure was there. Then at last, his eyes met once again with Katsuki’s.

 “Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I do.”

Something within Katsuki’s chest began to unfurl, and he wanted to shout, or laugh, or cry, or everything all at once because finally. But he couldn’t let himself feel relief. Not yet. Not when Kirishima was turning away, embarrassed, unable to meet his gaze. Not when Kirishima still didn’t realize just how much he meant to Katsuki.

No, there was something he needed to do first.

As if in a trance, he reached out, slowly, until his palm covered the hand that lay in Kirishima’s lap. He gave a reassuring squeeze. Kirishima sat, captivated by where their hands met. Gently, he opened his fist, watching as their fingers intertwined.

“Oi,” Katsuki spoke.

Kirishima peered up to him, scared and confused and hopeful, and Katsuki’s heart surged. He could feel the corners of his mouth upturn, just the littlest bit, could feel the way his eyes softened.

Finally, he could admit what he should have admitted to himself ages ago. Finally, he could accept it fully and without reservation. Finally, finally, he could say it, out loud, to the one person in the word who deserved to hear it most.

“I love you too, Kirishima Eijirou.”

Kirishima’s breath hitched. His hand clamped down painfully on Katsuki’s fingers. In an instant, he was gasping again, his whole body shaking.

Katsuki’s eyes flew shut as a wave of familiar sensations washed over him. It must have been what Kirishima was feeling too, but for the first time. There was writhing around in his chest as the vines twisted around, the pressure building and building and Katsuki braced himself for what he knew was soon to follow.

But instead of the scent of roses, instead the hacking and coughing that he had come to expect, there was… nothing. All at once, it just stopped.

There was no way it was as easy as that. No way.

 “What—” Kirishima wheezed out through his shuddering breaths, “—What was that?”

There had to be something else going on. There was no way the petals were done just like that, and yet… He took a deep breath. And, he could breathe. As if he hadn’t even realized how little he could breathe before. He inhaled deeply again. Exhale. And again. And again, relishing in the unobstructed feeling.

Finally, his voice came to him. “I think, that was you being cured.”

“Cured?” Kirishima looked up to him. “How?”

The only words that came to mind were ones that his doctor had uttered. Slowly, Katsuki repeated them, verbatim: “A person who is susceptible to developing Hanahaki Disorder is someone who experiences a deep love that is unrequited.”

“That’s a thing?” Kirishima’s eyes widened. He continued slowly, carefully. “And because I… felt that way, about you, then I…?” He looked down at where their hands were still joined. Then, he looked over to the petal in his lap. “How the heck does that even work?”

Katsuki shrugged. Hell if he knew.

Kirishima glanced up, making eye contact with Katsuki once more before quickly averting his eyes. “Sorry, sorry,” he swatted his free hand in front of his face frantically, as if that would distract Katsuki from his crimson cheeks. “This is just a lot to take in, how do you even know about all of this anyways?”

Since it was mutual, it shouldn’t have felt as embarrassing as it did. Katsuki knew that. And he didn’t want Kirishima to see his reaction and think that it was something he should be ashamed about, either.

But, he had been holding on to this secret for so long. Even before he accepted the nature of his feelings. For that reason, admitting his condition left him feeling vulnerable in a way that his love confession hadn’t. It was fucking stupid, and it didn’t make sense. But even still, it was his secret. Letting it go was not easy. But that didn’t matter. Kirishima deserved to know.

Katsuki closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. “Because, I think I was just cured, too.”

The air stilled, weighing heavily down on him. He could hear his heart beat against his eardrums.

“Bakugou,” Kirishima finally muttered, his voice warm. “You mean…?”

His body was frozen, unable to respond.

Kirishima seemed to understand. He gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Everyone knew something was wrong. But we didn’t want to talk about it behind your back, so we tried ignoring it. But it was difficult, I was so worried. But, all that time when you weren’t acting like yourself… When you had to sit out for training. And when you fell. And, being sent home. This was why?”

Katsuki nodded.

“Because of how you feel about me.”

“A lot of it was the shitty medicine’s fault,” Katsuki explained, because Kirishima was exactly the type of person who would try to blame himself over something like this. “It fucked with my balance and shit. Here.” He held out the tissue box.

As if still in a daze, Kirishima cleaned himself up and tossed the tissues away.

“But you… You love me.” It was like Kirishima was stuck on it. Like he couldn’t wrap his head around it no matter how hard he tried.

Katsuki closed his eyes. Nodded.

The air around them teetered on the edge of what was sure to be a suffocating silence. But before it could settle, Kirishima barked out a laugh. “Oh man. Oh man, I thought you hated me.”

“What?” Katsuki’s eyelids snapped open. Of all the reactions he’d been expecting, that had not been one of them. “You kidding? Why the fuck would I hate you?”

“I mean, I knew we were friends, it’s just…” Kirishima shrugged. “Well, you know, with what happened last week when we were sparring. It was so good to see you back in your element, you were so happy like that, and it made me happy too, and I guess I just got a little wound up. But when I went to kiss you, you pushed me away, so I… I mean I just assumed—”

“You…” In an instant, Katsuki’s jaw dropped. “You fucking what?”

Kirishima blinked. “That’s… why you pushed me away, right? Because you didn’t want to—”

“—I pushed you away because I needed to spit up rose petals into a fucking toilet. Not because I didn’t want…” Katsuki snapped his mouth shut. He flushed deep red. What followed was a nearly-unintelligible mumble. “Guess we really were on the same fuckin’ page.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I had no idea. I thought I had read the atmosphere wrong. And when Mr. Aizawa told us that you were transferring to Class 1B, I thought you wanted to get away from me. That sparring had been the last straw, and you saw me as a distraction. Or a nuisance. I knew I just couldn’t let it happen without setting the records straight.”

“That’s why you’re here?”

“Yeah.” Kirishima’s smile was warm, a little sheepish. “I was so scared that my dumb feelings had finally messed up our friendship, and it made me feel sick. Seriously, dude. I’ve been in love with you for months. And I didn’t know what to do about it.”

And Katsuki didn’t quite know how to take this information. He averted his eyes, hoping to god that he didn’t look bashful or some shit. “… Really?”

Kirishima squeezed his hand. “Really really.”

And maybe it was just now setting in, that this was happening. And fuck, it was a lot to take in, and he still didn’t understand it. But that didn’t stop it from being real. Katsuki looked to where their hands met. The breath he let out was wobbly.

Kirishima watched him, concerned. “Bakugou…?”

“Fuck, it’s so stupid,” Katsuki groaned. “It’s just, this has been ripping me apart, for so fucking long…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kirishima’s voice rooted him, calmed him. “It’s over now.”

Katsuki nodded.

“I love you so much, Katsuki,” he continued. “So much, you have no idea.”

It didn’t make any fucking sense, but Kirishima kept saying it and kept showing it – with his smile and the way his thumb rubbed gentle circles into Katsuki’s hand – so it must be true.

“We’re both okay now.” Each word that Kirishima spoke sent warmth through Katsuki. “It’s not unrequited. We just thought it was.”

And that was something Katsuki hadn’t even considered before now. That before, it hadn’t mattered if Kirishima felt the same way or not. What mattered was that he had convinced himself that there was no way Kirishima cared about him as much as he cared about Kirishima.

The silence that followed was comforting. For a moment, they didn’t have to say anything. Being next to each other, their fingers interlocked, was enough.

Just then, his mom called from the bottom of the staircase, “Boys! Time to pack up!” Because of course, she just had to ruin the goddamn moment.

At her voice, they froze. Katsuki didn’t want their time to be over. Not so soon, not when there was still so much to talk about. And, it seemed as though Kirishima didn’t want it to be over, either. His face was panicked.

“Are you still going to have to move to Class 1B?” he whispered.

“I don’t know—”

“Boys?”

“Give us a sec!” Bakugou shouted. He brought his attention back to Kirishima. “Not if I can help it though.”

Kirishima’s panic faded into a sort-of shy smile. “Okay.” Then, he deflated, just a bit. “Guess it’s time for me to go.”

Some subconscious part of Katsuki’s mind made him tighten his grip on Kirishima’s hand.

“We can text?” Kirishima’s voice was hopeful.

Katsuki shrugged, passively. Still, his grip tightened. At that, Kirishima let out a little laugh.

“Come on, Bakugou, you’re gonna have to let go of my hand eventually—”

“—Katsuki.”

Kirishima lifted his head, eyes wide. “What?”

“My name’s Katsuki.”

“Oh. Right. Katsuki.”  As the name rolled off of his lips, Kirishima swayed happily. “And, it’s Eijirou. If you’d like.”

Eijirou.

Something about thinking it, about letting his mouth form the name quietly, was such a relief. Nothing could stop the soft smile that lit up his face. Finally, he let go of Kirishima’s — of Eijirou’s hand, so he wouldn’t get in the way of school supply packing.

“You should probably get checked out by a doctor or something,” Katsuki mulled aloud, watching Eijirou file his notebooks into his backpack. “Recovery Girl at the very least. Just in case.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“And, maybe, don’t mention it until you’re in the car with Aizawa? My parents would cause a fucking scene, and it’d just be embarrassing for all of us.”

Eijirou’s laugh practically shimmered in the air. “Sure thing.”

He stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and reaching his hand down. Katsuki took Eijirou’s hand, allowing the strong grip to help him to his feet. Even with his feet planted sturdily under him, neither of them broke the contact. They entered the hallway, shoulder to shoulder, only letting go of each other’s hand when they reached the top of the staircase. Kirishima bounded down the stairs – Katsuki not far behind – and joined Mr. Aizawa in the genkan to put on his shoes.

Katsuki shoved his hands into his sweatpants and leaned against a wall, trying to feign disinterest as his parents bothered with formalities. Anything to hide how crestfallen he felt seeing Eijirou leave.

“It’s a relief this plan has worked as well as it has, but it’ll be good for your son to be back at UA.” Aizawa muttered.

“Of course,” his mom bowed, “and we cannot thank you enough for your willingness to help our son. Both of you.”

“It was no problem at all!” Eijirou beamed at her. “I’m just glad I got to see him again.”

She smiled at Eijirou, kindly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. When she glanced at Katsuki, for a split second, some sort of expression cross his mother’s face. Was it… disappointment?

A part of Katsuki wanted to laugh. She was in for the surprise of the century. But that would have to wait.

Dad swung the front door open, beckoning the guests over the threshold and into the air of late evening. The Bakugous watched from the entryway as Eijirou and Aizawa crossed the lawn to the sleek black car that was parked along the curb.

Each step that Eijirou took was a step further away from Katsuki. Even if Katsuki did manage to return to Class 1A, that didn’t stop the distance that grew between them from stinging, just a little bit. He wasn’t used to having someone to miss.

Tomorrow, he mentally chided himself. He would see Eijirou again tomorrow. And they would text until then. No need to be this fucking pathetic about it.

But when they were about halfway to the car, Eijirou froze. He turned on his heel and darted up the sidewalk, up to the house, up to Katsuki. And before Katsuki could even register what was happening, there were arms wrapped around his torso, tightly, embracing him.

His parents beside him gasped, and for a second, Katsuki could only stand, stunned. He wasn’t used to this sort of thing. But, it was just Kirishima. Just Eijirou. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and returned the embrace, taking in every sensation that he could.

“Kirishima—” Aizawa called.

The arms around him hugged even tighter. “Gotta go,” Eijirou muttered in his ear.

As he pulled back, he pressed his lips against Katsuki’s cheek. And then the arms around him were gone and Eijirou dashed on ahead.

As he jogged back to the car, Eijirou turned to wave at Katsuki. “See you at school!”

Katsuki watched him go, wide-eyes blinking in a daze. “See you at school,” he responded, too quietly for anyone but himself to hear.

As the car doors slapped shut, his mother let out a piercing shriek. His dad’s hand ruffle his hair. But it didn’t even bother him. He could only reach his hand up, hovering over his cheek, where Kirishima’s lips had pressed just moments before. He smiled, dumbly.

His mom took the news about as obnoxiously as he thought she would. There had been a lot of squealing. And hugging, from both of his parents. A lot of questions, ‘What brought this on, huh?’, ‘What the fuck do you mean he has it too?’, ‘Okay punk, start from the beginning, tell me everything’. And it was fucking insufferable. Deep down, he knew it was just because she cared a lot. Even deeper down he couldn’t help but wonder why. So, he had stuck to answering as sparsely as she would allow.

Then, there were phone calls to make. A lot of phone calls to make.

As it turned out, returning to UA wasn’t as simple has Katsuki had hoped it would be. UA preferred that he check in with his doctor first, and it was difficult scheduling a doctor’s appointment on such short notice. So he apparently wasn’t returning to UA until the following evening.

There were still meetings to schedule and logistics to work through. Boring shit that had the potential to last well into the night. His dad was the best at that sort of thing, so he took over that operation. His voice carried faintly into the living room from the kitchen. Unfortunately, that left him in the sole presence of his mother and what were bound to be a lot more questions.

 “Hang in there, kiddo,” Mom beamed, but otherwise she was unexpectedly calm. She leaned against the couch’s armrest next to him and ruffled his hair. “Things’ll fall back into place before you know it.”

“Quit it,” Katsuki swatted her hand away and sank into the couch cushions in evasion. After a moment, he let out a snort. “About goddamn time. Can’t happen soon enough.”

“Oi. Patience is a fucking virtue.” She was still smiling.

“Easy for you to say, ya old hag. You’re not the one who’s been coughing that shit up for weeks on end.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that, huh.”

Katsuki’s phone let out a buzz.

It was Kirishima. Eijirou, he mentally reminded himself. He could call him Eijirou now.

Eijirou’s check-up had apparently gone very well. According to him, Recovery Girl had said that the disorder hadn’t had the time to cause significant damage. But still, Eijirou whined about being told to sit out the following day’s training. Seemed as though UA had had enough of flower-barfing students causing further harm to themselves. They were not too keen on taking any more chances.

Katsuki quickly shot back a text and pocketed his phone, before his mom had the chance to get nosy about it.

Sure enough, she was smiling at him with a knowing glint in her eyes. Slowly, she sank into the cushions next to him. Even as he kept his eyes locked on the TV screen, absently absorbing the evening news, he could feel her gaze boring into him.

After a moment, she spoke. “I’m glad you found someone, Katsuki.”

Katsuki blinked. His first instinct was to protest, because seriously. Hearing sappy shit like that, from his mother of all people, was weird as hell. But then another thought came to mind, cutting his retort short. What would bring her to say something like that in the first place?

And then it occurred to him – perhaps, Mom hadn’t thought it was possible. He was volatile, and really fucking unpleasant sometimes, and Katsuki knew that. So, maybe some part of her had been resigned to accept that it would never happen. That he would live his entire life without finding someone who he would love. Someone who would love him in return.

He couldn’t blame her, not entirely. Not when he had convinced himself of the same thing, too.

The silence that surrounded them was more comfortable than not, the white noises of his father talking in the kitchen and the TV at low volume droning in the background. Mindlessly, they watched the week’s weather forecast.

“Why?” Katsuki finally asked, to no one in particular. “Why him?”

“Well, he seems like a nice kid.”

“That’s the fucking understatement of the century,” Katsuki muttered, some part of him having the audacity to be amused about it. “He’s so goddamn nice. Too goddamn nice, to everyone, to me, and it makes me feel all weird.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow curiously. “How so?”

And fuck, Katsuki knew what she was playing at. And he’d be damned if his mom got him to start monologuing about sentimental shit like feelings.

“Mind your own damn business.” It was all bark, no bite. Sulking, he gave out a little shrug. “’S not like I wanna feel all that shit in the first place. I’d be a lot better off if I didn’t.”

 When Mom looked over to him, her brows were drawn together, and there was something sad in her eyes. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

Katsuki didn’t know what he meant. So, he shrugged again.

“Katsuki…” Mom let out a sigh. “How you feel for that boy, and how he feels for you… It’s a beautiful thing.”

Christ, did his mom have to go and make this a fucking sap-fest? His cheeks began burning immediately. With a huff, he turned away, remaining pointedly quiet.

“Love is a beautiful thing, Katsuki, it really is.” She took his silence as an opportunity to continue. Her hand rubbed one of his shoulders. “And I’m worried that, with all that’s happened, you’ll start to resent those feelings. That you’ll push them away, even more than you did before.”

 “Would you blame me if I did?” His voice was barely above a whisper. God, he hated how his voice cracked on the words.

Mom said nothing at first. She just watched him, carefully, and Katsuki shifted under her gaze. After a moment, her lips pressed into a pained smile.

“No,” she admitted. “No I wouldn’t blame you. But, I hope you understand, Katsuki. Love is not what made you sick. You… you do know that, right?”

Did he though? His mother’s voice was hopeful, her eyes patient, offering him time to truly consider her question. Katsuki pouted. Slowly, he allowed himself to sink into his feelings, be overcome with them. He imagined Eijirou’s smile. Every time Katsuki saw that smile, his heart wanted to beat out of his chest. Just remembering Eijirou’s laughter had a way of making his lips want to lift into a soft smile. And Eijirou’s kindness, to him of all people, made his world shine a little brighter.

Something had to have caused the roses. But it couldn’t have been love. He did know that, deep down. There was no way that something as beautiful as love could have been the root of so much pain.

Katsuki drew a knee to his chest. “Yeah.” His own voice pounded against his eardrums. He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah I do.”

Mom’s smile widened in relief. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I’m proud of you, Katsuki. And of Kirishima too, of course. Both of you, for working it out.”

Okay, now this was getting out of hand. Before he knew it, his mom was gonna start spewing even cheesier shit, things like ‘Look at my little boy all grown up’. Or worse, teasings. The hand clutching at her heart, ‘Ahh, young love’. A pinch of his cheek, ‘So when’s the wedding?’. Katsuki could imagine it now. He shuddered.

 “Whatever,” he finally grumbled, willing himself to sink lower into the cushions. “Just don’t go around inviting him to family dinners or any of that bullshit.”

She let out a sharp laugh. “But Katsuki! How else will we get to see more of him?”

“Eh? I’m the one who should be seeing more of him, not you old farts.”

“Well, you’ll be seeing more of him a lot sooner than you thought,” his dad’s warm voice suddenly filled the room. He lazily tossed his phone onto a side table and joined them on the couch, taking the spot to Katsuki’s right. “I just got off the phone with Principle Nezu. He said the arrangements are easy to reconsider, and it won’t be a problem for you to stay in Class 1A.”

Katsuki looked to him, wide-eyed. “Really?”

“Yes, really. And your teachers are happy to offer supplemental training to catch you up to your classmates. Things are looking up.” Dad patted his back. “You’re in good hands, Katsuki.”

And just then, something clicked.

Just a few weeks ago, everything his life had been uncontrollably flipped upside down – and to make it worse, he had gotten used to it. He had been so complacent in his shitty reality that anything that challenged it just felt like a dream. Even Eijirou coughing up flowers had seemed too good to be true.

But now, with each reversed shift, what felt like a dream was beginning to feel more and more like reality. Eijirou loved him back. He wasn’t changing classes. He would start training soon. He would catch up. All thanks to the people in his life banding together, supporting him, and he didn’t understand why. And yet, it was real. All of it was real.

Usually when Katsuki cried, it was because he was angry, or frustrated, or hopeless. But, as the overwhelming relief finally cut its way into reality, as it sank into his skin and into his heart, he felt his eyes dampening.

“Ohhh, Katsuki,” his mom’s hand rested on his shoulder, “What’s there to cry about?”

“I’m not fucking crying.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay to cry.”

He tried holding it back, tried telling himself that it he was happy so it was stupid to cry, but a sharp pain cut into the joy. Why did they care so much? He didn’t deserve this.

“I’m just…” His body shook. “I can’t fucking get over that this is happening. That it’s over. That someone out there – that Eijirou – that he actually… And, you guys, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, why…”

His voice was hoarse, ragged, and the rest of the sentence would not come out. He let out a groan and hunched over, resting his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. It took all of his might to stop his body from shaking. He didn’t deserve any of this.

Why wouldn’t they hate him as much as he hated himself?

His mom wound her arms around his torso gently, rested her chin on his shoulder. “Katsuki…”

 “Come here,” his dad grunted, kneeling on the couch and slowly guiding Katsuki into his chest. “We love you, so much. We’re here for you. And yet, you always pull away. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Katsuki choked out.

“I think I know why, Katsuki,” his mom’s voice was heavy. “I know why, and it breaks my heart. So, let me ask one more question.”

The arms around his waist hugged even tighter. His mom let out a sigh.

“Katsuki… What’s got you convinced that you are unworthy of love?”

Upon his return to school, Katsuki was immediately sent to Recovery Girl’s room. She listened closely to his breathing, his heartbeat, the cold metal of her stethoscope sending shivers up and down his spine. A part of him almost expected the check-up to go wrong. Almost expected her to tell him that there had been some sort of mistake. That it wasn’t over.

But of course, she said no such thing.

After lunch, he was finally permitted to return to class. His parents had assured him that Aizawa would tell the class of his return, but not any specifics about his condition. There were murmurs from his peers when he entered the classroom. Then, Eijirou shouted his name and bounded up to him, taking Katuski’s hands in his own and welcoming him back with a cheery smile.

Even though Katsuki had already mentally prepared himself for such a welcome, composing himself was still nearly impossible. He let it happen anyways, because it was Eijirou.

But what Katsuki wasn’t expecting, was for the other students to join in.

It wasn’t the entire class, and it would have been even weirder if it was. But several of them circled around him, all talking over each other about how good it was to have him back.

Racoon-Eyes – Ashido, Katsuki reminded himself – said she was happy he was feeling better. The one with the cakes – What was his name? Satou? – offered him some sort of a home-baked miniature spiced loaf. Sero gave his back a big pat. Kaminari threw an arm around his shoulders and cracked some sort of a joke, and everyone laughed. Including Katsuki.

He hadn’t even realized how much like a family this class was to him.

Then the door slid open and Aizawa entered the room, his hair floating this way and that and his eyes glowing red, and everyone promptly returned to their seats.

As he crossed the room to his desk, Katsuki glanced to the back of the room – meeting mismatched eyes. Todoroki gave him a curt nod. Katsuki nodded back. He took his seat.

Aizawa briefly acknowledged his return, and then class was underway. And slowly, with each day that passed, everything was returning to normal.

Well. Almost everything.

Katsuki and Eijirou were knocking out some algebra homework in his dorm a few nights later, when…

“We should go on a date sometime,” Eijirou dropped like a bomb.

Katsuki choked on the water he was drinking, almost spewing it across the desk. “What the fuck.”

“Sorry!” Eijirou’s laughter was explosive, deep from his gut. “It’s just, well. We’re… dating, right? Or. Yikes, maybe I shouldn’t just assume something like that.”

“Do you… want us to be dating?” Katsuki started, slowly, as if he was scared that any sudden loud noises would ruin everything.

“Well yeah!” Eijirou bulldozed through. “I mean I won’t force it, but if you want us to be, then—”

“Do whatever,” Katsuki mumbled. “We already know how we stand, feelings-wise.”

“Well, yeah, but, confessions are only half of it, the rest is a grey area! With dating, there’s more to it. Like, going out. And kissing. And… well…” Eijirou trailed off. He gave a little shrug. “Right, Katsuki?”

Hearing Eijirou say his name like that… it made Katsuki feel really happy. Not that he would admit it. He turned to hide his blush. God, he was not used to any of this.

“But hey, I think I understand.” Eijirou’s smile was warm. He placed his hand over Katsuki’s. “This past week has been a lot to take it, huh? For both of us, but especially for you. There’s a lot of stuff for us to navigate. I don’t know what I’m doing. And I know you don’t, either. You’ll be sure to tell me if I’m making you feel uncomfortable, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Like you said, we know how we feel, so, there’s no rush. Okay?”

 “Okay.”

“Maybe, for right now, a grey area is good enough?”

Katsuki rubbed his thumb in slow circles on Eijirou’s hand. “Yeah.”

“Oh man… I can’t help but feel like it’s fate or something,” Eijirou continued, an air of whimsy coloring his voice. “I did a lot of research on Hanahaki last night because, hey, I gotta know what’s going on, ya know? And, do you know how weird our situation is? The worldwide prevalence is like, a fraction of a fraction of a percent. And yet, we both got it. What are the chances of that?” He clicked his pen. “Fate. It’s gotta be.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Katsuki muttered, but honestly, he wasn’t convinced.

Recovery Girl had admitted herself that the disorder did not develop randomly. There were contributing factors, increased likelihoods. And then, there was Todoroki. A third person in a very, very small sample. There were pieces that wanted to fit together, but Katsuki didn’t know how to get the edges to line up. And unless he figured it out, none of this was making any sense.

Maybe Eijirou noticed the frustration on his face, for he murmured, “Hey. Everything okay?”

“No, yeah, I’m fucking fine,” Katsuki sighed. “I just, am finding it really fucking difficult to take this all in.”

“I know what you mean. I’m still in a little shock too. I thought there was no way the feeling was mutual.”

That wasn’t what Katsuki had been frustrated about – Eijirou had no way of knowing what plagued his mind – but maybe the topic change could work as a sort of distraction, so Katsuki played along.

“I mean, it took me developing a fucking love disorder to figure it out how I felt,” he snorted. “And even then, I denied it for weeks. But, there just came a point where I couldn’t anymore.”

“For me, it was Kamino.”

Katsuki looked up to Eijirou in surprise. “That early?”

At that, Eijirou hummed, his smile crooked from embarrassment. “I mean, I knew I cared about you before then, but I had just figured I had a crush on you or something.” His lips were smiling, but there was a pain behind his eyes. “And then you were gone, and I panicked. I had to go after you, get you back, or I would never forgive myself for letting you go. That’s when I realized, there was no way it was just a crush. But, I didn’t know how to tell you about it.”

“I think we’re just cursed with really fucking poor communication.”

This time, it was Eijirou’s turn to snort. “Guess that should be a top priority of ours from here on out. Really, if it weren’t for Todoroki, none of this would have been possible.”

 “Todoroki.”

“Yeah! Aizawa told us you were switching classes, and, well…” Eijirou rubbed the nape of his neck, which Katsuki was starting to realize meant he was a little bashful. “I didn’t take it the best. And I think he noticed, so he asked me to replace him as your tutor. It’s thanks to that shove that we’re even here.”

For a moment, Todoroki’s voice echoed around in Katsuki’s head.

‘You have a chance, don’t throw that away.’

So it hadn’t been his mom who asked UA to send Kirishima in Todoroki’s place, after all. It had been…

Katsuki let out a tch. “That bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

But it wasn’t really nothing. Because the more he thought about Todoroki, and his story, the clearer everything became. A piece of the puzzle had snapped into place. And Katsuki could feel that a few others were not far behind.

Several days later, Katsuki’s hand hovered over Recovery Girl’s door. Something inside of him made him hesitate. With a shake of his head, he wrapped his knuckles.

“Come in, come in.”

He opened the door. Red hair and a smiley face beamed back at him. Of course.

“Hey, Bakugou!” Eijirou waved from the cot. “Fancy seeing you here!”

Katsuki froze, and for a moment, he could feel his face betray his surprise. He collected himself quickly, offering a weak smile and a ‘hey’ before turning his head away. God, he was still fucking awful at this sort of stuff.

Recovery Girl sat on her chair in front of him, pressing her stethoscope against his completely bare chest. “One moment, Bakugou, I’ll be right with you.” She repositioned the stethoscope a handful of times before removing the earpieces and rolling her chair back. “Very good Kirishima, everything seems in tip-top shape. I think today is probably the last check-up you need.”

“Woohoo!” Eijirou hopped to his feet and tugged a t-shirt over his head. “Guess it got itself worked out before I even knew it was there.” He grinned at Katsuki. “And that’s all thanks to you, you know!”

Katsuki nearly choked on his spit. His hand flew up to cover his own mouth. “Shut up, dumbass,” he muttered between his fingers, “you can’t just, fucking…”

At this rate, it was as if Eijirou couldn’t physically stop himself from smiling. Even still, his gaze averted and he brought his hand to rub at the nape of his neck, a blush tinting his cheeks. “Come on, Hanahaki twin, no need to be like that!” He hooked his arm around Bakugou’s shoulders and flashed a warm grin. “In a super weird way, I really should be thanking you. Of course, I should thank Recovery Girl, too!” He turned to her and gave a little bow. “Thank you so much for looking after me, ma’am!”

“Oh, please,” she waved her hand in a shooing motion. “I’m just doing my job.”

“And without you doing your job so well, Bakugou and I would be in a lot worse shape!”

“Yes, yes, fine, that’s quite enough, young man.” Her voice was tinted with exasperation, but under the surface, Katsuki could feel how fond she was of Eijirou. Honestly, he was starting to think that it was impossible for anyone to dislike the guy. “Weren’t you just telling me about an essay you haven’t started?”

“Oh right,” Eijirou snapped a finger. “Can’t forget about that. I, uh…” He glanced over at Katsuki and flashed another grin. “Guess I’ll see you later!”

“Yeah,” he grunted out. God, what was wrong with his voice? “You too.”

With casual interest, he watch as Eijirou strode towards the door, hoping that his face didn’t look too longingly after him as the door slid shut.

“Hanahaki twins…” he echoed under his breath, exasperated, because how on earth did Eijirou even come up with shit like that? But still, a smile tugged at his lips.

Then the words settled uneasily in his stomach. Twins.

He turned to where Recovery Girl sat at her desk. “He doesn’t know about Todoroki.”

At first, Recovery Girl didn’t acknowledge him. Just kept typing away, filling in whatever report she was working on.

Finally, she let out a sigh. “So. He told you, did he?”

He lowered himself onto the cot and gave a hum of affirmation.

“That boy…” She pressed her lips in disapproval. “It’s dreadful what his father puts him through, what with the surgery and all. Absolutely dreadful. But you didn’t hear that from me,” she swiveled her chair toward him. “Todoroki is still afflicted. And he still wishes to keep it on the down-low, you understand.”

Katsuki nodded grimly.

“I do hope he is able to fully recovery, as you and Kirishima have.”

With any other condition, her words would not have been so strange. But, due to the nature of the disorder, her words were layered with meaning. She hoped Todoroki would be cured. That he would find love. And normally, Katsuki wouldn’t give a shit about Todoroki. But he had been affected by Hanahaki long enough to never wish it on even his most heated rivals. And so, some hidden part of him found itself inexplicably agreeing with her.

“What about you, Bakugou?” She returned her attention to her computer and pulled up a new form. “It’s been a week since you returned to UA. You’re healing perfectly, and are well on your way to being completely cured. So, what brings you here?”

“Check-up.”

The last time he had been called to her office for a check-up had been on Monday. It was Wednesday now, and he had come of his own accord. If Recovery Girl found it strange, she didn’t show it. Only nodded and rolled her chair towards him.

As she approached, he lifted his shirt up so she could place the stethoscope against his skin. At her instructions, he inhaled and exhaled, knowing perfectly well that no air was catching in his lungs.

As she pulled the stethoscope away, Recovery Girl spoke. “Something else is on your mind, isn’t it?”

She had always been an observant woman. Katsuki adjusted his shirt, collecting his thoughts. “I think I’ve worked some things out,” he finally responded. “About Hanahaki Disorder.”

She tilted her head. “And what’s what?”

“Somehow, three students in the same class have developed it – and that shouldn’t make any sense. But before, you mentioned that there were factors that could make people more susceptible. You even admitted that UA’s lack of responsibility put students at higher risk.”

He watched Recovery Girl carefully, but her expression remained unreadable, so he continued.

“When we were studying, Todoroki told me something that didn’t even strike me as odd until later. He said that Endeavor knew a couple Pro-Heroes who had this same condition. This same rare condition. So I think about all of this, and I think about what our class has been through that sets us apart from everyone else. And I think I’ve worked it out.”

“There really isn’t much known about the condition,” Recovery Girl let in a deep breath. “But, we do know where it first appeared. There was a war a long time ago, and upon the solder’s return home, many were diagnosed with serious mental disorders. General Anxiety Disorder. Acute Panic Disorder. PTSD. And some, had developed Hanahaki. Today, it develops most often in victims of freak accidents, survivors of natural disasters, Pro-Heroes. There are individual exceptions of course, but every statistical analysis points to the same thing.”

“Trauma,” Katsuki finished for her.

Recovery Girl nodded, her lips pursed bleakly. “Hanahaki isn’t just a disorder of unrequited love. It seems to be somehow related to a person’s stress response, found in those who have experienced tremendous trauma. Life-threatening trauma. If you happen to fall in love with someone who shared those experiences with you, especially if they’re the ones who helped you overcome it, then…” She trailed off, allowing Katsuki to finish her thought for her. With a tut, she continued. “This school has been doing you students rotten, leaving you all susceptible like that, with minimal preventative measures. It’s downright shameful.”

She sat up a little straighter in her chair, as if realizing the inappropriate nature of her rant. “Even so, Hanahaki Disorder is not guaranteed. An individual’s coping mechanisms, or resilience, might stop the development. It is still rare after all. But, with those conditions met, the likelihood increases tenfold. This isn’t exactly the sort of thing that the hero community wants to be common knowledge, you see. I only wish that UA would do something to better prepare its students for their future reality.”

It was nice, hearing his suspicions confirmed. Katsuki thought back to the USJ. To the trip to I-Island. To his rescue. Villain attack after villain attack. And through all of that, there was only one person who stayed by his side, every step of the way.

“That… makes sense,” he conceded. The two of them really had been through so much together. Just like Todoroki had said.

Todoroki. In an instant, his thoughts fixated. He thought of Todoroki’s story. His childhood, his experiences at UA. There had to be some common denominator. If all of this stuff about trauma was true, then for Todoroki, that meant…

He stood abruptly to his feet. “I think I just figured something else out, too.”

Katsuki hated having unpaid debts. And, according to Eijirou, he owed Todoroki. Big time. But Katsuki didn’t seek him out. Todoroki found him first.

Katsuki was supposed to be chilling with Eijirou and some of the others in the common room. He could tell that those closest to them, like Ashido and Kaminari and Sero and even Jirou, were picking up on the change between the two of them. Katsuki didn’t mind if they knew – and, more importantly, they didn’t seem to mind either. Eijirou even told him that the class seemed so much happier now that he was back. Katsuki wasn’t sure he believed it, but he could tell that Eijirou did, whole-heartedly.

It had only been a few minutes since they had congregated on the couches, and the others were already making a ruckus. And maybe Katsuki was having a little fun, too. But there was a flash of red and white from across the room. When Katsuki looked up and the two of them locked eyes, Todoroki gave a tilt of his head. Come with me.

It was as good an opportunity as he would ever get. Almost immediately, Katsuki was on his feet.

“Bakugou…?” Eijirou whispered. Katsuki liked it when he called him by his given name, but around their teachers and classmates, they were both a little careful about it.

“Just give me a moment,” he answered calmly, eyes trailing where Todoroki turned the corner.

Eijirou followed his gaze, catching sight of the red and white hair before it disappeared. His mouth shaped into an ‘o’, and then a smile, and he gave Katsuki a nod. So he understood. That was a relief.

As he walked, Katsuki stuck his hands in his pant pockets. Up ahead was the corridor that lead to the boy’s communal amenities. This time of night, there was one room that was likely to be empty.

Sure enough, when Katsuki entered the washer room, Todoroki spoke.

“I didn’t say it before, but welcome back.”

His voice was as level as usual, but when Katsuki met his eyes, he could see the intense gaze that Todoroki was observing him with.

“Yeah.”

“To Class 1-A.”

Katsuki looked to the floor. Dug the toe of his slippers into the linoleum floor. Eventually, he gave a curt nod.

 “So I was right. Kirishima, he—”

“—That’s none of your business.”

“Of course it isn’t.” There was something petulant in Todoroki’s tone. Something frustrated.

Katsuki leaned against one of the washers, arms crossed. For a good minute, neither of them said a word. And as each second passed, Katsuki began to realize that he would have to be the one to speak next. Otherwise, nothing more would be said between them.

He didn’t know how this Icy-Hot bastard responded to thanks. Would he say ‘you’re welcome’? Or try to brush it off like it wasn’t a problem? Or maybe he would act oblivious, like he had no idea why he was being thanked in the first place.

Regardless, Katsuki was about to find out.

“I suppose I should thank you or something,” he grunted.

Katsuki could say more. He could thank Todoroki for realizing that Eijirou felt the same way even when he couldn’t. He could thank Todoroki for setting up the opportunity for them to work things out. But he didn’t have to. Todoroki knew what he had done.

He could feel Todoroki’s eyes on him. After a moment, he saw from the corner of his eye Todoroki give a slight nod in acknowledgement. A reaction that was well within what Katsuki had expected of him.

The words that followed were so soft, Katsuki almost didn’t catch them.

“What does it feel like?”

Surprised, he looked over to Todoroki. The guy’s eyes were downcast, lost-looking. And Katsuki shouldn’t care. But somehow, he really, really did.

“You know what it feels like.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could even think, but that was okay. He had to do this. He had a debt to pay.

“I don’t.”

“You can recognize it in others, can’t ya? So why not yourself?”

Todoroki opened his mouth – to protest? – but he promptly shut it again. Katsuki used his silence as an invitation.

“Listen to me,” his voice was nearly in a growl. “You know who it is. Deep down, you know. Someone who has been through hell with you, stood by your side through it all, but you’re too fucking scared to admit it to yourself.” He kicked himself off of the washer and reached for the door handle. “You have a chance.” He swung the door open.

“Bakugou—”

“Don’t you dare throw it away.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

The rest of the week came and went without much excitement. Both he and Eijirou were permitted to begin training again – this time, for Katsuki, with supplemental exercises every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday afternoons. Which was a goddamn relief. If the work from that Saturday’s exercise was anything to go by, he was sure to catch up in no time. Hell, by the end of the semester, he was sure to gain an edge!

Although, the lesson had left Katsuki exhausted, so that evening, he worked on his homework alone in his dorm room. He had just finished up an assignment on the Silver Age of heroes, when there was a knock on the door.

Katsuki set down his work and went to open the door. His eyebrows raised practically to his hairline.

It was Eijirou, dressed to the nines in a pair of nice slacks and a button-up. The ensemble was brought together by a god-awful patterned tie.

He smiled tensely. Nervously. “Hey Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” he corrected tersely, and it would have probably sounded a little intimidating if only his mouth would quit smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Right. Katsuki. It’s just… Oh man, I know it’s sappy. And I know that sappy isn’t really your thing. But Todoroki was just so manly today,, and it really inspired me to do the same, so—”

“—Woah, woah, wait, hold the fuck up,” with a wave of his hand, Eijirou paused. “… Todoroki?”

“Oh. Didn’t you hear?”

“… Hear what?”

“He asked out Midoriya today!”

And Katsuki tried to hide his shocked expression, he really did. It wasn’t that it was fucking Deku – he’d had his suspicions ever since his talk with Recovery Girl. It wasn’t even that Todoroki figured it out. No, what surprised him most was that Todoroki actually went and did something about it.

 “I heard it from Uraraka, she was sitting next to them when it happened.  It was totally out of the blue, right in the middle of lunch, like the first official date in the class was no big deal. She doesn’t even think Midoriya realized what was happening at first, he was fine one moment and then beet-red the next, can you imagine? And then he told Midoriya this thing, about not wanting to throw away his chance, and I remembered what Crimson Riot said about living life without regrets. And it made me realize a few things.” Eijirou caught a breath. “About us.”

Katsuki blinked. “Yeah…? What about us?”

“I know that we talked, and that we sort of agreed to go with the flow. But also, I feel like Hanahaki took away from us the sorts of things that teenagers look forward to. And, I don’t want us to take our feelings for granted and end up getting stuck in some weird grey area. I want to do things properly.”

“What are you talking about?” Katsuki stood straighter, for the first time really noticing how Eijirou was dressed. How Eijirou looked like he was hiding something behind his back. “Wait, what do you have—”

“Bakugou,” Eijirou bowed, holding his hidden gift out in front of him for Katsuki to finally see. “I love you so, so much. Please go out with me!”

And god, did that make him feel things, how could he reject that? The ‘Fucking whatever’ had almost passed his lips, when Katsuki caught sight of the gift.

A single red rose.

As if on instinct, his hand flew up to cover his airways. His palm muffled a sharp “Fuck no.”

Eijirou’s shoulders tensed. Slowly, he lifted his head. “…What…?”

“Fucking hell, Eijirou, a rose? Seriously?”

“… Oh my god. ”

“I might actually throw up.”

“Holy fucking shit. I’m a dumbass.”

“It’s not like I don’t appreciate the sentiment,” Katsuki waved his hand, nearly theatrically, “you just better not bring it on our date tonight.”

At that, Eijirou looked up, hope in his eyes. Then his lips broke into a wide smile. “I won’t, Katsuki, I swear!”

“Good!” Katsuki couldn’t help but smile back. This was fucking absurd. “You have 10 minutes to get it out of my vicinity. If I smell so much as a whiff by the time I’m done getting ready, I’ll find it and blow it up myself!”

Eijirou gave a thumbs-up. “You can count on me, Katsuki!”

“I better be able to!” With that, Katsuki slammed the door shut.

… And then proceeded to bury his blazing cheeks in his hands.

God. Fuck. Fucking hell, Eijirou was so fucking ridiculous, and it did fucking ridiculous things to his head and his heart and his everything and he never wanted Eijirou to stop. He wanted Eijirou to be fucking ridiculous. All the goddamn time.

Honestly, with this past week helping him wrap his head around the idea, a date with Eijirou didn’t sound like such a bad idea. It was such short notice, there was no way they’d be allowed to leave campus. But hell, if Eijirou wanted to dress up all fancy just to eat pizza rolls and sabotage each other in fucking Mario Kart, then that’s what they’d fucking do.

But, the flower did have to go.

Katsuki was really fucking sick of the smell of flowers.