Chapter Text
Sleepless nights are not an unusual occurrence for Todoroki.
The Todoroki household was never one known for being conducive to a good night’s rest. It was grueling training sessions that sometimes stretched far into the night and even into early mornings. The sun would barely begin to crest over the horizon when he’d finally get a chance at rest. Even in the moments of peace, the atmosphere permeated every space like a vacuum. There wasn’t much space for general pleasantries, let alone sleep. Now, in the dorms, where endeavor is reduced to a phone call or text, nights still remain difficult.
It’s a cycle he just can’t seem to break. A combination of thoughts that never cease their tumbling through his mind. Nightmares swirling reality and fiction into a particular breed of horror that leaves him unsettled even sometimes into the afternoon. Some nights it’s easier to just avoid sleep entirely. When things feel especially heavy and his mental barriers just a touch too thin.
Tonight, happens to be one of those nights.
He’d had a long day. He was bested in training, and he was falling behind on his schoolwork. Despite his best efforts to catch up, he felt like it was only setting him back further. Everyone else was racing toward their goals. Half the time he wasn’t even sure he had any goals at all.
On nights like these, his phone is usually entertaining enough to occupy him. Tonight, though, as he scrolls through rows of monotonous text, he feels a spike of panic clawing at his conscious that refuses to be pushed back into its cage. Something rough and raw that he just can’t shake.
He briefly considers a few drastic solutions. Leaving the dorms. Acting out like a true problem child. Causing a dramatic scene of epic proportions. Surely then he’d be free of this torment. Unfortunately, he’s aware that wouldn’t fix anything in the long run. Probably would make things worse. Plus, he might risk waking someone else up. That’d be rude.
He opts, instead, to grab the soft cashmere cardigan foisted over his chair and wrap it around himself. The gentle texture of the fabric feels comforting. It had been a gift from his mom, since they’d started trading letters. It felt nice to be able to talk to her again, to know she didn’t truly hate him. He’d mentioned it being cold in the dorms, once, in-between regaling her with stories about his classmates and school. She’d sent one of her jackets along with her next letter. It was warm, and soft, and it still smelled like her. A lingering visage of the woman who’d held him crying all those times when he’d needed her, despite everything she had been going through. It was nice.
He carefully toes on his slippers and proceeds towards the door of his dorm. He flips through his phone to turn on his flashlight, trying to avoid tripping over something and cracking his skull open. A vicious part of him thinks it’d be deserved. A kinder part wills him to continue taking careful steps.
He gently twists the handle and pushes it open, creeping into the hallway and pulling it shut behind him. It makes a silent shushing sound as the door slips back into its frame and he holds his breath as he lets go of the handle. It flicks softly and then he’s free.
He pads through the hall and takes the stairs down to the first landing, ensuring he places each footfall heal to toe to minimize the sound. Yet another habit from his home that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to shake. Just one of the many perks of being the famed endeavor heir.
Silence had been his friend as a child. Sneaking around, stealing quick exchanges with siblings he was never allowed to see. Slipping in and out of rooms to avoid his father’s rage. It had become a piece of him. Something he knew he could rely on. As he’d grown and found his way out of his father’s clutches, though, it had become a double-edged sword.
He’d become too accustomed to the need to hide. Now, in moments where he wanted to be seen, it felt almost like cutting a rock with a butterknife. So futile, as he fumbled for the right words, and phrases. Bumbling around trying so desperately to relate to his peers, and seeing it come so easily to them. It was a painfully frustrating existence.
It’s nice, sometimes, to be able to fade into the background. Free from the carefully measured interactions and curt conversations of normative society. It just makes the moments where he wished he could be loud and joyous as easily as his friends taste all the more bitter on his tongue.
He feels his body relax when his foot touches the first-floor landing, but his guard is drawn again the instant his ears catch up with his surroundings. Instead of the dead silence he was anticipating, he hears a rhythmic clicking noise coming from the common area. He opts to approach warily. Pressing his back to the edge of the wall that blocks the view of the stairs from the lounge, he prepares himself for whatever sight might greet him. Ever since their fiasco of a first year, they’ve all been wary of attacks. Slowly, he peaks his head around the corner, prepared to throw up an ice wall should the situation demand.
At first glance, he doesn’t know what he’s seeing. The lights are off and its dark aside from the light casting off the TV at the far side of the room. It blinks furiously with vibrant flashes in the dark space, casting twisted shadows throughout the room. His eyes flit to the source of the noise. There, on the couch, is a figure sitting in the dark. He squints, willing his eyes to focus. He feels a sense of relief flood him when he recognizes the ‘threat’ as his classmate.
Bakugo Katsuki. Not a threat, but still not who he would’ve hoped to run into. One of the more frustrating people he’d met in his life. The boy in question was horribly and unapologetically brash at all times, and Shouto just couldn’t make sense of it. It felt like from the first time they’d met, Bakugo had held some personal vendetta against him.
Obviously, in his early days, he might’ve deserved it. He’d approached his classmates coldly, throwing them the same attitude he’d thrown at everything. He’d been so determined to best his father that he couldn’t see anything else. He’d been barely more than a shell. Just a husk of his broken childhood fueled with a deep-set rage, destined to either ice the world out, or freeze himself trying. Until his match with Izuku, he couldn’t blame anyone for hating him. Not even Bakugo. He’d hated himself too.
It'd taken a long time to shake himself of that burden. He’d since learned he could make friends and rely on them when he needed it. Even though it was hard to connect with them at times, they all rallied around him like he was worth it. He’d managed to form even small connections with almost everyone in the class. All, except for one Bakugo Katsuki.
It was strange. Something about the boy had always been different from his other peers. With his friends, his nerves came from venturing out of his own comfortable bubble of quiet. With Bakugo, it was something else. He couldn’t quite place the feeling, but every interaction left him flustered. It was one of those uncomfortable feelings that he found could be best dealt with by avoiding altogether. Bakugo had never seemed particularly keen on being friendly with him anyways, so it wasn’t like he was even actively avoiding it. He wasn’t.
Ever since they’d met, Bakugo hadn’t seemed to acknowledge his existence any more than an elephant might acknowledge a mouse. Just sidelong glances, and a series of crude nicknames. The few instances he’d tried forging a connection had been met with a look of. Something. Shouto honestly wasn’t entirely sure what, but he could guess it might’ve been disdain. Maybe annoyance. Abhorrence even. Sometimes he wished he had Izuku’s talent for empathy.
His ever-agitated classmate was sitting on the couch, gaze focused on the fervently flashing screen. What Shouto couldn’t quite recognize was the something in the boy’s hands that he was furiously clicking away at. It looked vaguely like a guitar- one of those electric ones with the cool body shapes. He’d seen them in the old concert videos he’d stumbled upon on another one of those nights.
Loud, pulsating venues filled with people cheering like no one and nothing else in the world mattered but that moment. There was clapping and singing, everyone seemed beside themselves with excitement. Then there was the music, always something with an edge to it. A guitar’s chorus would rip through the stadium and fuel a barrage of screams and chants, daring the musicians to get even louder.
His father had never been one for any new age music. It was a rare occurrence that he was able to sneak away to listen to anything his father hadn’t approved of, and the man had admonished just about everything besides orchestral classics. Said they were the only things good for his concentration. Said listening to anything else would eat away at his attention that needed to be devoted to his goals at all times. His goals being endeavors. Not to be confused with anything Shouto himself had ever wanted. He often wondered if he’d actually ever looked forward to anything of his own volition.
Before his thoughts had the opportunity to truly spiral away from him, Bakugo was, rather aggressively fiddling with the device. Pressing something on it in and out, wobbling a piece of the ‘guitar’, and causing one of the strange symbols on the screen to move in kind.
He thought it looked like a guitar, at least, but the instrument in question wasn’t exactly like the ones from the pictures either. It was smaller, for one thing. Looked more like something made for a child. There was also the matter of material. The guitars from the videos he had seen looked heavy and sturdy, made of metals and wood that could hold the strings in place while being strummed. This little guitar looked like it might fall apart with a steady gust of wind. Stringless and made of fragile plastic. Somewhere in himself he felt he could relate.
Its poor constitution did not a problem make for his classmate who was still furiously pressing the five colorful buttons lining the top of the fret board in place of strings. He decided to move himself closer, pulling around the wall quietly so as not to disturb the deep concentration present on the other boy’s face. As he approached, he noticed the tv was flashing vibrantly with tiny circles filtering down a slopped surface, almost like a conveyor belt. They were the same series of colors at the top of the little guitar, and the game, he realized finally, was accompanied by music he hadn’t noticed before.
It was just barely audible but enough that you could tell the clicking of buttons correlated with the tune spilling from the tv speakers. Despite its low volume he could tell the song itself was loud. Heady bass underlying a commanding guitar sequence with heavy drums outlining everything. It was overwhelming, to an extent, but in the same breath it scratched his brain in just the right way. Something about it was so satisfying. He felt almost like he could become addicted to its demanding chorus.
The little circles flew by at a rapid pace, each being met by a lifted cylinder at the bottom of the screen that seemed to catch them before they tumbled into some unseen video game abyss. Some weren’t caught, but it appeared Bakugo must be good at the game because those were far and few between.
Suddenly, Katsuki swung the neck of the guitar up and the colorful circles became a vibrant neon blue. The effect was entrancing. Everything lit up brightly and, even with the new lack of coordinated colors, his classmate remained undeterred. It only lasted briefly, flashing away as quickly as it had shown up. The matching colors returned to their places, and he was left wondering what it had meant. Before he could even think to settle his curiosity, the boy on the couch chose to acknowledge his presence.
“Oi, you just gonna keep standing there staring like a weirdo, or were you planning on making yourself known at some point tonight?” His classmate questioned, giving him a quick glare over his shoulder before returning his attention to the screen. The brashness was per the norm. Just Bakugo being Bakugo. The simple fact that it was directed at him for once was the strange part. He’d barely shared more than two words with the other boy over the course of the last year and a half. Maybe it was just too late into the night for careful avoidance, or perhaps he hadn’t realized who he was talking to.
“What was all that blue stuff?” He wasted no time getting to the point. He’d never been the best at navigating conversations. Here, in the dead of night between two people who should probably be asleep, he felt like maybe he could just ignore the general order of things and get right to his burning questions.
“The blue-? Oh, the power up- look, I’ll tell you if you stop vulturing and sit, you’re makin’ me nervous” the other boy responded, patting the couch square next to his by way of invitation. Shouto eyed the couch skeptically. He didn’t think Bakugo would do anything to him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to break his streak of nothingness with the walking timebomb. He didn’t know if that was such a great idea. Regardless, he slowly ventured towards the other boy, still keeping his footsteps quiet.
“Quit actin’ like a damn house cat icyhot, I’m not gonna bite, moron.” Bakugo barked. Shouto glared at that and roughly sat down on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest with an accompanying eye roll.
“Wasn’t expecting anyone else to be awake. What is this?” Shouto probed, once again straight to his point. Bakugo wasn’t exactly imbued with fantastic social graces either, so he didn’t think he’d care.
“Guitar Hero? Its only one of the best games to come out of the first decade of the 21st century- you’ve seriously never heard of it?” Bakugo asked, sounding surprisingly genuine. Ah. Evidently another one of those key pieces of childhood he’d never gotten to experience. He wondered if somewhere there was a cruel deity laughing at his expense. He shrugged his shoulders minutely in response, hoping the blonde would take the opportunity to fill in the blank.
“Right, shitty dad and all that, sorry. I used to play it a ton when I was a kid- good for anger management or whatever. The hag thought it was a good outlet.” The strangely apologetic statement caught him off guard. He’d known Bakugo to be a great many things but being outwardly regretful of anything really had never seemed to be in his wheelhouse. Regardless, if Bakugo was feeling generous, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“How do you play?” he deadpanned, and Bakugo responded in kind with a flat look.
“The fuck does it look like? You hit the buttons when the matching circles get to the bottom. Just gotta follow the music” the blonde responded gruffly, scrolling through what Shouto assumed were the musical selections. Very notably none of it was in any way classical. His father wouldn’t approve.
“Can I try?” Something about the silence and the mildly mellowed out attitude of his classmate made him feel brave.
Bakugo raised an eyebrow at him but relented nonetheless with a shrug, offering the plastic device to Shouto. He took it gingerly, holding it the way he’d seen the other boy holding it before. He pushed the buttons experimentally and strummed the small black lever at the base of the guitar. The selection bar moved with it, quickly flicking up and down.
He didn’t recognize any of the songs on the screen, not that he was expecting to. He opted to just click the first one, noting that it sounded just as loud and intoxicating as the other had.
The screen came alive with the same steady stream of circles, notes, his brain supplied. It was at this point Shouto realized a vague understanding of the game was by no means enough to be able to successfully play the thing. The notes flew past, and he flailed at the buttons trying and failing to get any to do anything other than clang obnoxiously at him. As suddenly as it had started the screen changed to a large ‘Incomplete’ screen with another series of options.
He turned to see Katsuki keeled over in laughter at his expense. He felt his face heat.
He passed the guitar back to Katsuki defeatedly and proceeded to begin maneuvering himself to leave. Before he could get himself up, a hand wrapped itself around his wrist. Something about the touch sent a jolt up his spine.
“No, c’mon Sit icyhot, don’t be a sore loser. That’s kinda a rite of passage for this game- everyone gets tricked into thinking they can hack it their first time, you’re not special, princess” Shouto reeled internally at the new choice in nickname, though outwardly he’d done nothing more than stare. Obviously, he knew it was a joke, but something about it caused a fluttery, unplaceable feeling to root through his chest.
The short circuit prevented him from doing anything aside from settling back down onto the couch cushion. Bakugo took the guitar from him and, with a practiced ease, returned to the song selection menu and switched to something else. This one, though still loud, was a bit slower than the other two. He started the song but paused it before the notes could begin their descent. He flicked the little black bar until it settled over the ‘difficulty’ option, and he shifted it up until it read ‘beginner’.
“There. That should make it a little easier” Bakugo said smugly as he passed the guitar back to Shouto. This time when the notes started to filter across the screen, it wasn’t little circles at all but long rainbow-colored bars that moved in the same steady pattern.
“Now you don’t have to focus on getting the right notes, just figure out getting the timing right. Hit a button and the bar at the same time when the note is in the right spot.”
He simultaneously talked and reached out with his hands to strum the bar and press a button at the same time, demonstrating how the bar on the screen seemed to blink away–instead of just disappearing off the end of the screen uselessly–like the little circles had been earlier when Bakugo was playing. Shouto was glad for the low lighting as he felt his face heat for the second time. He offhandedly wondered if he was getting sick.
He refocused himself on the screen, this time proceeding more confidently since he knew the rules now. For the first time, instead of the awkward clanging, he heard the genuine sound of music come from the speakers. His elation was short lived as he proceeded to miss the next two notes, but still, in the end, he managed to make a mix of correct and incorrect notes rather than all incorrect.
It was a start.
“Not bad. I didn’t think you’d make it all the way through the song to be honest.” The other boy praised with a huffed a laugh. He reached out to take the guitar back and Shouto let him, watching as adept fingers wrapped around the neck and pulled in towards his chest. He was still processing the fact that it almost sounded like Bakugo had complimented him. He wondered if this all might be some bizarre dream.
“Why didn’t it turn blue like when you played?” Shouto asked, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. He needed to distract himself from the path of overthinking he was steadily headed for.
“Oh yeah- I don’t know if it happens on the Beginner mode, but for the others there are star shaped notes. When you hit all those in a row without missing, you get a bonus power- just makes everything worth more points. It’s not that important- I usually forget about it.” Bakugo recites as he moves to a different song and repeats the process for switching the difficulty. Shouto watches as he parses down the selection bar until it falls on the ‘Expert’ setting. Shouto balks.
The song starts and Shouto is immediately captivated. It’s fast and loud like the others, just pressing all the right buttons to soothe his racing mind. It’s a funny thing, but the way the song overwhelms him makes his mind go fuzzy, and its nice. It’s not silence, but it gives him that same sense of comfort.
Apparently, he hadn’t been silent about his appreciation either, as Bakugo started to miss notes. He looked up to find the other boy had fixed him with a look, though this one was different from the other times. It was still something he couldn’t identify, but this time it was more... Gentle? He wasn’t sure. Bakugo seemed to shake off the feeling, quickly righting his gaze back on the screen and recovering from his streak of missed notes. Shouto wondered if he’d just imagined the whole thing.
Neither of them spoke for a while after that. Just sat and listened to the music coming off the tv speakers, Bakugo expertly pressing buttons and hitting notes while Shouto watched in awe. The other boy made it seem easy, but as Shouto observed closely, he could tell Bakugo’s face was set with a fierce concentration. The same look he’d sometimes wear in training exercises, besting his opponents while also thinking up creative ways to insult them.
Shouto realized, rather abruptly, that he liked that look on Bakugo. The fluttery feeling returned. He did his best to ignore it and refocus on the music.
The song sounded like it was coming to its end, as the notes started to pop up more sporadically and the tempo dropped. Bakugo played another long note, and this time did the same thing he’d done earlier, furiously pressing up and down on the little lever sticking out near the bottom of the guitar. Both the bar on the screen, and the song itself seemed to wobble accordingly.
“What’s that do?” Shouto questioned, quickly breaking the silence as the song ended and the room once again fell into a quiet hush.
“called a whammy bar- just gives you more points on the long notes, but also its kinda fun. Uh- here” Bakugo hesitated for a second before passing the guitar back over into Shouto’s hands. The other boy grabbed his wrist and moved it, so his own hand was settled on top of the little metal lever. He moved his hand down so it covered Shouto’s and proceeded to press it in and out, pushing the ‘whammy bar’ up and down. Shouto found his hands were frozen. He didn’t think he could pull away if he tried. He wasn’t sure he wanted to try. Then, just as soon as the moment had started, it ended. Bakugo pulled the guitar and his hands back into his own lap and started to sift through the songs again.
“What was that song?” Shouto asked, and immediately questioned whether or not he should have, as Bakugo fixed him with a look of pure shock.
“you- you’re serious?? You don’t know ‘smells like teen spirit’? but- its nirvana for fucks sake! icyhot you’re killing me. Here just- gimme your phone” Bakugo says and holds out his hand expectantly, mumbling something about having ‘shitty taste’. Shouto, with no real reason to say no, gingerly places his phone in the other boy’s hand.
Bakugo sets to work quickly. He pulls up the app store and searches up ‘Spotify’. When he finds it, he passes it back to Shouto.
“download that then give it back- m’ gonna make you the best damn playlist you’ve ever heard” The boy grumbles, pulling up the same app on his own phone and beginning to scroll through it.
Shouto follows instructions, downloading the app. It pops up on his home screen, amongst the few other apps he’d gotten during the period of time he’d had the phone. He passed it back to Bakugo who once again seemed to stare at it in shock.
“this had better be a damn backup phone. get a game or social media or something, this is just sad.” Bakugo commented. Shouto had never really felt the need to have an excess of things on his phone. Took up space, and time, and his father wouldn’t approve of them. Then again, there wasn’t exactly anything in particular preventing him from downloading games and the like. Maybe he would out of spite.
The other boy started typing things into the search bar, shuffling through options, and pressing buttons accordingly. He bit the inside of his lip as he seemed to contemplate something, before evidently deciding to just go with it anyways. The determined expression he was wearing stole Shouto’s attention more than whatever it was he was doing on the phone itself. For a moment, he had to question whether time was actually moving slower or if he was just suddenly much more aware of its ever-steady passage.
Just when he thought he might be trapped in a time loop, Bakugo, seemingly satisfied with his choices, roughly pushed the phone back into his hands. He jumped minutely in surprise, bumbling the phone for a second before being able to right it again.
“just the basics- if you liked the one I played then you’ll like these” Bakugo offered, before looking away. His face looked just shy of possibly being considered sheepish before he looked back up with an exasperated raise of his eyebrows.
“Thank you. I-” He doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentiment before Bakugo cuts him off.
“listen to them and meet me back here tomorrow night, ok? That way I can show you how to actually play the damn game, moron.” As much as he tried to act unbothered, there was a touch of that unplaceable look that Shouto was starting to think might be something the other boy reserved just for him. As quickly as it had been there, the other had shaken it, fixing him with an expectant scowl only the Bakugo Katsuki could summon up.
“Ok.” Shouto agreed easily. He was excited to see what was on the little green app that Bakugo felt was so necessary for him to hear. The first thing he saw on the screen was the title of the playlist. He gave the other boy a flat look. ‘The basics of having music taste for dummies.’ He rolled his eyes and clicked the icon, opening up to look at the list of songs Bakugo had decided on for him.
Just as he’d started to scroll through, he heard a click followed by the soft shush of the TV being turned off. Bakugo lifted the guitar and pulled the black strap attached to it in one swift movement. It fell over his shoulder, and he let it hang behind him against his back.
“g’night” the other boy mumbled over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs. His feet shuffled loudly on the carpeted floors and Shouto felt himself cringe at the noise. Before he could even respond Bakugo was walking up the stairs, stifling a yawn as he as he disappeared past the threshold of the first landing.
The silence that filled the room was a welcome distraction. He checked the time on his phone- 2:09 flashed up at him. Late, but not the latest he’d ever stayed up. The latest would be the days when nights bled into mornings and the concept of sleep seemed too arduous a task. He’d slump through classes until, by the end of the day, he was too tired for anything to matter. He’d finally find rest, and his usual tumultuous sleep would be replaced with emptiness lining the vast expanse of his mind.
Oddly enough, the interaction had left him less anxiety-ridden than he’d been before coming down. Usually being sociable required an excess of concentration and left him uneasy, but this strange accidental bonding moment had been somewhat relaxing.
As he tip-toed his way back up to his room, he wondered at the sense of disappointment he felt at the moment being over.
As he got back to his room he considered his eagerness for the next night, being able to see the other boy and play the silly music game again.
As he fell asleep, he thought of heavy guitar, bright blue circles, and a gentle touch over his hand carefully guiding his movements.
Sleep came easier.
——-
On other nights Shouto couldn’t sleep it was almost always driven by some sort of angsty torrent coursing through his head. Occasionally, it was simply because sleep insisted on avoiding him, despite his best efforts. Tonight was the first night he’d spent wide awake, waiting impatiently for night to pass.
He’d spent his free time during the day listening to his new music in an old crumbly pair of earbuds he’d kept from a flight he’d once been on. The sound was poor, and the static-y interference was downright infuriating at times, but they worked ok for the most part. It was better than not being able to listen at all.
He’d never really considered investing in any personal listening devices prior to this development. Classical music had sounded painfully mind-numbing and the idea of having it pushed directly into his ear canals seemed like it’d be annoying. Now, though, he thought about buying a pair of headphones, if only to be able to properly appreciate the essence of rock that had been thoughtfully curated by his- friend? acquaintance? Insomni-buddy?
He’d hoped seeing Bakugo in the daytime again would help clarify the strangeness that had surrounded their nighttime interaction. It hadn’t.
The other boy hadn’t given him so much as a sidelong glance the entire day. To the point that Shouto had gone back to once again remind himself that yes that had happened, and yes, the playlist he’d been listening to did actually exist.
He’d thought at the very least he might get a nod of acknowledgement, but no. His ever-frustrating classmate had returned to once again being just that.
Frustrating.
Of course, it wasn’t like it really bothered him, or anything. He’d gone this long receiving the same treatment, it wasn’t like one night was enough to make him feel entitled to the other boy’s friendship. It was fine.
He’d gotten a few questions about the earbuds throughout the day. Most were wondering why, seemingly out of nowhere, he’d decided to suddenly have music going at all spare moments. He briefly rolled around the idea of elaborating about his midnight escapades, but something about that felt wrong. Subconsciously his mind had assigned this strange little secret as sacred, a treasure only to be shared by him and the other boy. He brushed their questions off instead, opting to explain it away as a part of his new studying regimen.
Classes had dragged on worse than normal. Shouto could typically take notes like the best of them but something about the subtle drone in Mr. Aizawa’s voice, and the painfully steady tick of the clock on the wall made an hour feel like a million years. He’d never really felt the need to count down to the end of classes, as his afternoons and nights were often just as boring, but today was different. Today he’d get to learn to play the guitar game. Today he had new and exciting music to listen to. Today he’d see Bakugo again.
Usually, that wouldn’t be anything to write home about, but he was eager to see the other in low lighting again. Where his voice was quieted so as not to wake their sleeping classmates. His brashness numbed just enough to feel almost approachable. His hands gentle and soft feeling against his own.
He didn’t necessarily want to put extra thought into what that meant for him, exactly. Why calloused hands had felt so nice against his skin, and careful guidance had caused his mind to haze around the edges, and the tenor of Bakugo’s voice as he’d called him. A nickname.
He checked the time on his phone.
11:57.
It wasn’t quite midnight, but it was nearly. He could walk slowly. A part of him wanted to wait longer. Didn’t want to come across as overly eager as he felt. The louder part of him was already coaxing arms back into his cardigan and feet in his slippers. He pulled the earbuds from his ears and tucked them away into his pocket for safe keeping.
The same as the previous night, he slowly pulled the door ajar and slipped out, gently tugging it closed behind him with a soft shush. Letting the latch catch with a clipped click. Free once again.
He still walked quietly down to the first floor, but this time, in his haste, he realized he hadn’t followed his usual regime. A habit he could never bring himself to break, dropped in the wake of his excitement. Before he could stop to start overthinking, he’d made a beeline for the couch. He briefly noted Bakugo and his little plastic guitar before plopping himself down on the square beside him.
He realized he probably should’ve done more to announce himself when the other boy, determinedly focused on mashing the colorful buttons, startled violently beside him.
“FUCking hell- DAMNIT warn a guy next time would’ya? fucking moron” Bakugo snarled, shifting his focus back to the screen with a signature scowl. Shouto rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“sorry. forgot.” He followed, unsure of how to broach the topic of the playlist he’d been given.
Thankfully, Bakugo must’ve been prepared for his brand of awkwardness as he asked first.
“d’you listen to the music I gave you?” he asked, flinging the guitar up to activate the power-up like he’d done the previous night.
“yeah. I liked the yellow one. with the forks.” he responded, still watching the screen closely as Bakugo, the expert, barely missed any notes in the frequent stream. Apparently, his response had been odd as Bakugo fixed him briefly with another exasperated look.
“that’s not helpful- what was it called?” Bakugo responded as the song seemed to come to its close, and the note conveyor belt came to a final line at the end of its track.
Shouto pulled out his phone and scrolled through its contents, searching for the song cover he’d been describing.
“this one” he answered, holding up his screen with the picture he’d been talking about
“Plug in baby. see it has-” he was prepared to go about explaining the picture when Bakugo shoved the guitar into his hands abruptly instead.
“yeah yeah i’ve got eyes. here” He maneuvered himself close enough to where Shouto was sure he could almost smell the faintly sweet scent of caramel on the other. Not that he was trying.
Bakugo grabbed his hand moved it over to the little black lever before slowly pushing his fingers down, controlling the song selection on the screen. He wasn’t sure it was entirely necessary as he’d figured out how that worked the previous night, but he wasn’t going to complain. The touch felt nice. Right. Comfortable.
A feeling that, if given more time, he could sink pleasantly into until his thoughts were nothing but a fuzzy mess. Instead, as soon as the touch had started it was removed, pulled away, but, as Shouto’s mind sweetly provided, the movement was arduously slow.
He wasn’t sure why that fact was nice, but he knew he liked it.
The selection bar was now hovered over the aforementioned song, playing a snippet while it patiently waited to be interacted with. He clicked the green button and watched as the loading screen followed.
This time when the notes started to filter across the screen they weren’t nearly as fast as they’d been for Bakugo, but at the same time it was still different to when he’d been playing on beginner before.
There were only 3 colors he could see falling slowly down this time. Just green, red, and yellow. He tried for the first note as it approached. Predictably, he missed.
He looked down at his hands and back up at the screen quickly, positioning his fingers in the right place and waiting until he was sure and- click. This time when the note was in the right spot it was caught by the little cylinder and the sound of the actual song came through. He was absolutely elated. He’d actually hit a real note! In his joy, he managed to flub the next two notes, but, with some effort, he managed to hit his second note of the night. He nearly cheered.
Then, just as he thought he was finally getting the hang of things, the chorus of the song picked up and the notes started to fly at him faster. He panicked, flailing his fingers at the three notes and watching as the little circles danced past the end of the screen into nothingness, accompanied by an unpleasant clang each time. He saw a collection of star notes start to filter from the top of the screen but, by that point, the pulsing red had already been going around the edges of the screen. Before he could right himself back into the rhythm, the obnoxious ‘Incomplete’ in all red letters was flashing across the screen.
Evidently, he’d worn his frustration on his face more than he’d intended to, because he heard a chuckle come from the boy beside him. It was uncharacteristically soft. He didn’t have the chance to think about the way it made his stomach feel warm and fluttery.
“hey c’mon that wasn’t bad, princess, don’t get all pouty about it” Bakugo offered, and there was that nickname again. He turned to look to maybe address the second usage of the term princess, but before he could his brain short circuited at what he saw.
Something about Bakugo looking at him with an honest to goodness smile caused every wire and cell in his brain to fry. It wasn’t rude or mean looking at all, not even teasing. No, this smile was filled with what almost looked like some kind of admiration- but that would be madness. Surely it was directed elsewhere. Otherwise… Shouto wasn’t sure what to think.
Before he could process it, it was gone from the other boy’s face, once again replaced with a more typical, unreadable expression. He cleared his throat before looking back towards the screen.
“So, d’you have another song you want, or do you want me to pick one for you this time?” he spoke quicker than normal, Shouto noticed. He considered the other songs he’d managed to get through earlier in the day. There were many he hadn’t gotten to, only because the list of music Bakugo had collected him was incredibly long. Among the ones he could recall, there was only one other that had really stuck out to him.
“there was another one- it was like. um. he says something about jumping out a second floor window? i think? and that someone broke their foot and they’re apparently not ok” He explained, trying his best to remember the lyrics he could from the song.
Clearly, he’d said something very funny, because the other burst out in a boisterous laugh. He felt his face heat. Again.
“FIRST of all- that is not the point of the song AT ALL i have no idea how you managed to get that from the easiest song to understand- and second, of course it’s my chemical romance you emo mother fucker” Bakugo managed to get out in between residual laughter. Shouto crossed his arms over his chest and looked away bashfully.
“I don’t know what that means- and I don’t think it was that funny” he mumbled pushing the guitar back into the others lap. With an eyeroll that seemed almost playful, Bakugo moved the selector to a song farther up. Eventually he landed on the title ‘I’m Not Okay (I Promise),’ and passed it back to Shouto.
“trust me it was funny- now play it already” Bakugo ushered him back to the screen, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.
Instead of admonishing the other for laughing at him so brazenly, he opted to just click the little green button instead. Deciding it just wasn’t worth it, and that maybe he didn’t mind a little playful banter as much as he thought he did.
As the loading screen gave way into the note stream, he took a steady breath and met the first note. He felt pride when it didn’t clang at him.
This song, unlike the other, was much more consistent in the note pattern. They weren’t crisscrossing the screen intimidatingly, but instead following a steady, rhythmic line along with the beat. That he could do.
He still missed a good number of notes, even ending up in the red a few times, but, to his pure astonishment, he managed to actually finish the song. As he floundered to keep up with the last few notes, he felt a buzzing excitement when he recognized the end of the song was near, and just when he thought he’d failed, the notes ceased their scrolling. Finally, the little bar signaling the end passed by on the screen.
He initially looked over at Bakugo to gloat, something along the lines of look who’s emo now, he still wasn’t sure what it meant but he hoped it’d come across like he did. The words died on his lips as he looked at the other. He was wearing a look full of pride that left Shouto completely speechless. He felt a spire of glee in his chest and before he could even think about what he was doing he found himself smiling back.
They shared a second where neither of them spoke. The air filled with an unbroken stillness and something about the quickening of his heart and the pleasant buzz in his chest was just good, and right, and everything. It only took a few seconds for them to both look away, but it felt like it could’ve been hours.
“not bad icyhot- but it’s not good either. you’ve still got a way to go before you could ever hope to be on my level” he accompanied it with a smirk. Back to the average amount of snark and ego Shouto was used to.
They played for a while longer after that. He won a few, and lost most, but he still felt he’d made a pretty big leap from where he’d been the previous night. His fingers were starting to adapt to the placement of the buttons, and timing the strum with the note was beginning to come more naturally to him. He still wasn’t good as Bakugo had oh so kindly stated, but it was a start.
They’d parted ways with little fanfare. Same as the previous night, Bakugo threw the guitar over his shoulder like it lived there, and started to leave, instructing Shouto to come down again the next night before casually tossing a final goodbye over his shoulder. Only this time, he seemed to hesitate and stopped before he reached the stairs.
“You- uh. you aren’t- um- awful to hang out with. or whatever. I guess.” The other boy stumbled uncharacteristically over his words, stopping and starting like getting the syllables to filter past his lips was somehow painful.
Shouto went to respond but the other boy was already thumping up the stairs before he could eek out a reply. Not awful? He wondered if that was truly the other boy’s best attempt at trying to be genuinely kind in a straightforward way. He was both honored and a touch less embarrassed of his own lack of social graces.
He checked the time on his phone.
1:56.
And, just like the night before, after he managed to drag himself back up the stairs and ungracefully flop himself sleepily onto his bed, his eyes closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
No room for anxiety or stress, but just enough space to think of a sweet, wide, toothy grin on a usually scowling face, and a look of pride meant just for him.