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The neon signage of The Midnight Mic buzzed with a headache-inducing flicker. In the reflection of the glass door, Shouto looked like the picture-perfect university elite—cool, composed, and effortlessly popular. Beside him, Katsuki looked like he was being marched toward a firing squad.
"It’s just a couple of hours, Katsuki. Iida and the others haven't seen us in weeks," Shouto said, his voice clipped as he checked his watch.
Katsuki stopped dead on the sidewalk, his oversized sweater swallowed by the chilly night air. He reached out, grabbing the hem of Shouto’s coat. "Shou, come on. It’s Friday. We could just...go back. Order that spicy ramen you like. I’ll even let you pick the movie. Let’s just cuddle, okay? My head hurts from the lab."
"You said you wanted to come, baby. We're already more than half way there."
"I know, but Shou-"
Shouto pulled his coat out of Katsuki’s grip, his jaw tight. He was tired of the constant tug-of-war between his social obligations and Katsuki’s introversion. "If you didn't want to come, you should have stayed home. I didn't force you to get dressed."
The words were cold, sharp, and entirely unlike the way Shouto usually spoke to him. Katsuki flinched, his crimson eyes widening behind his glasses. He looked like he’d been slapped. His mouth opened to retort—to scream, to explode—but instead, his lips wobbled into a hurt pout. He went dead silent, his gaze dropping to his scuffed sneakers.
He didn't say another word as they walked inside.
The bar was a sensory nightmare. The air smelled of cheap hops and cherry-scented vape clouds. Almost immediately, Shouto was swept into a booth by a group of architecture students. He tried to keep an eye on Katsuki, but the blonde had drifted toward the back, his shoulders hunched, looking small and miserable.
An hour passed. Shouto’s irritation had long since melted into a pool of anxious regret. He shouldn't have snapped. He scanned the room, his heart hammering against his ribs when he didn't see a spike of blonde hair at the bar.
Then, he saw him.
In a dimly lit, plush velvet booth in the far corner, Katsuki was sprawled on someone’s lap. Shouto’s blood turned to ice, then immediately began to boil. He strode across the sticky floor, his eyes fixed on the scene.
Katsuki looked completely dazed. His face flushed a dark, feverish red from too many liquid courage cocktails. He was humming a low, tuneless song, his forehead pressed against the neck of a terrified-looking stranger. A lanky guy who looked like he’d just wanted to enjoy a quiet beer.
Katsuki’s arms were wrapped loosely around the guy's waist, his fingers clutching the fabric of the stranger's shirt. "Smell...smell different today, Shou," Katsuki mumbled into the guy’s collarbone, his voice thick and slurred. "Still mean...but you’re warm. Don’t be mean anymore, okay? Stay home next time."
The stranger looked up and saw Shouto approaching. His eyes went wide with unadulterated terror as he realized the most popular guy in the building was staring him down.
The guy froze, his hands hovered awkwardly in the air, terrified to even touch Katsuki to push him off.
"I-I swear, man, I didn't—he sat down!" the stranger stammered, his voice trembling. "He thinks I'm you! I tried to tell him, but he’s...he’s really strong!"
Shouto didn't even look at the guy. He reached down, his hands sliding under Katsuki’s armpits to haul him upward.
"Katsuki," Shouto said, his voice a low, possessive rumble.
Katsuki blinked slowly, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. He squinted at the stranger, then turned his head to look at Shouto. His brain seemed to process the image in slow motion.
"Oh," Katsuki whispered, a tiny, wet hiccup escaping him. "Two Shous? It's a nightmare. One was...one was mean to me."
"I know. I'm so sorry, princess," Shouto murmured, shielding Katsuki from the rest of the room as he pulled him into a crushing embrace, effectively reclaiming him. He looked over Katsuki's shoulder at the stranger, his eyes flashing a silent, deadly warning that sent the guy scrambling out of the booth.
Katsuki melted into Shouto's chest, his hands fumbling for Shouto's face. "You came back. Did I do it right? Was I...social? Did I stay long enough?"
Shouto’s heart clenched so hard it physically hurt. He tucked Katsuki’s head under his chin, ignoring the curious stares from the bar. "You did perfectly. We're going home right now. No more karaoke. Just us."
Shouto’s grip on Katsuki’s waist tightened, his knuckles white as he pulled his boyfriend flush against his chest. The protective, possessive heat radiating off Shouto was enough to make the temperature in the booth feel like it had dropped ten degrees.
The stranger was pale, his hands shaking as he held them up in a universal sign of surrender. He knew exactly who Shouto Todoroki was—everyone on campus did. The idea of being caught with the Golden Boy’s lover in his lap was a fast track to social ruin.
"I-I’m leaving! I'm going!" the guy squeaked, sliding out from the edge of the booth as fast as possible.
Shouto began to hoist a limp, dazed Katsuki toward the exit, Katsuki’s head lolling back over Shouto’s shoulder. His glasses were dangerously lopsided, sitting halfway down his nose, and his eyes were swimming with drunken affection. He spotted the retreating stranger, and his face split into a wide, clumsy, and devastatingly cute grin.
"Bye-bye, other Shou~" Katsuki chirped, his voice high and melodic with intoxication. He lifted a heavy, sluggish hand and gave a slow, floppy wave. "You were...you were nicer. Don't be a stranger, Shou!"
Shouto froze. He had to close his eyes and take a long, rattling breath through his nose to keep from losing his composure. The "other Shou" didn't even look back. He practically sprinted toward the fire exit, terrified that Katsuki’s niceness would be the thing that got him pulverized by the real Shouto.
"Katsuki," Shouto rumbled, his voice strained with a mix of jealousy and heart-wrenching guilt. "That wasn't me. And he is definitely staying a stranger."
Katsuki let out a long, wet hiccup and pouted, his lower lip trembling as he looked up at the real Shouto. "Then why're you...why're you the mean one? The other one didn't tell me to stay home alone. He let me sit. You're...you're a grumpy architect."
Shouto’s heart did a painful somersault. He tucked his arm under Katsuki’s knees and lifted him into a bridal carry, ignoring the gasps and whispers from the surrounding tables. He didn't care about his reputation or the Popular Shouto persona anymore.
"I'm sorry," Shouto whispered into Katsuki's messy blonde hair as he made a step towards bar's exit door. "I was a jerk. I was a huge, grumpy jerk. I'm taking you home, and I'm not letting 'other Shou' or anyone else near you ever again."
The movement seemed to make Katsuki even loopier. As Shouto carried him toward their exit, Katsuki started poking Shouto’s cheek with a clumsy finger.
"You're real Shou now? The one with the...the pretty eyes?"
"Yes, Katsuki. I'm the real one."
"Good," Katsuki mumbled, his head dropping onto Shouto’s shoulder with a thud. "You smell better. Like...like home. But I’m still mad. You made me sad on the sidewalk. I cried a little bit in my head."
Shouto squeezed him tighter, navigating the floor with practiced ease. "I know. I'm going to spend the whole weekend making it up to you. No bars, no 'other Shous,' and definitely no being mean. Just us and as much cuddling as you want."
Katsuki hummed, a tiny, satisfied sound. "And spicy ramen?"
"And spicy ramen."
Shouto was halfway to the exit, his arm locked like an iron band around Katsuki’s body to keep the swaying blonde close, when a hand landed on his shoulder.
"Whoa, Todoroki! You’re leaving already? The night’s just starting!"
It was a guy from Shouto’s advanced studio class—someone who usually basked in Shouto’s calm, professional aura. He didn't seem to notice the storm brewing in Shouto's dual-colored eyes, nor did he seem to care that Katsuki was currently using Shouto’s chest as a pillow.
"We were about to start a round of shots for the project group," the classmate continued, gesturing back to a crowded table. "Come on, man. You’re the life of the party. Stay for one more?"
Shouto didn't even turn his head. His grip on Katsuki tightened, pulling the smaller man so close there wasn't a breath of air between them.
Katsuki, hearing the chatter, blinked his heavy eyelids open. He looked up at Shouto, his glasses sliding further down his nose until they were perched precariously on his tip. He let out a loud, wet hiccup that shook his entire frame.
"Mean Shou..." Katsuki mumbled, his voice carrying enough for the classmate to hear. "Are we...are we staying longer? Does that mean I get more juice on the couch? That guy...the other guy...he had juice."
The classmate’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze flickering between Shouto’s thunderous expression and the flushed, dazed nerd clinging to him. "Uh, Todoroki? Is he...okay?"
Shouto’s gaze hardened into something icy and lethal. He looked like he was ready to dismantle the entire bar brick by brick if it meant getting Katsuki out of there. The possessiveness in his chest was a physical ache, fueled by the guilt of knowing Katsuki had spent the last hour seeking comfort from a stranger because Shouto had been mean.
"No," Shouto said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm register. "We aren't staying. And he doesn't need 'more juice.' He needs to go home with his boyfriend."
He shifted his weight, effectively shielding Katsuki from the classmate's view as if even a look was too much. "Don't ask again. I'm done for the night. In fact, I'm done with these mixers entirely."
The classmate took a hasty step back, his hands raised. "Right. Yeah. Got it. See you Monday, man."
Shouto didn't wait for a goodbye.
"Home?" Katsuki whispered, his fingers curling into the fabric of Shouto’s shirt.
"Home," Shouto promised, his voice cracking with a sudden, raw tenderness. "No more mean Shou. Just me. I've got you, Katsuki."
* * *
The apartment was quiet, the only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator and the soft, heavy thuds of Shouto’s heart against his ribs. He had Katsuki sitting on the edge of the bathtub, the blonde’s legs dangling limply while Shouto knelt between them.
Shouto was trying to be gentle, but his movements were stiff with a cold, simmering possessiveness. He had a warm, damp washcloth in his hand, and he was meticulously wiping the scent of the bar—and that stranger—off Katsuki’s skin.
"Katsuki," Shouto started, his voice strained as he wiped a smudge of grime off Katsuki’s cheek. "The guy in the booth. The one you were...sitting on. Why did you stay there?"
Katsuki tilted his head back, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling as he tried to navigate the fog in his brain. He let out a soft, melodic hum, his fingers clutching Shouto’s shoulders for balance.
"I don't know, Shou," Katsuki murmured, his voice airy and sweet. "A lady...she gave me juice. We drank it in a circle with other people. It was nice. Then...then I saw you on the couch. You were just sitting there."
Shouto’s hand froze on Katsuki’s neck. He squeezed the washcloth, water dripping between his fingers. "That wasn't me, Katsuki."
"But he looked like you," Katsuki pouted, his lower lip trembling again. "And when I hugged you, you didn't touch me back. You just...sat there. You smelled different, too. Not like peppermint. Like...like old pennies? And you kept sweating. You kept asking me, 'Are you okay? Are you okay?' over and over. You were so nervous, Shou."
Shouto’s jaw clicked shut. He felt like he was losing his mind. The image of some random, terrified student being cuddled by his brilliant, beautiful boyfriend—while Katsuki held onto him—was enough to make Shouto want to go back to that bar and tear the booth out of the floor.
"Then I told you I wanted to go home," Katsuki continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as his eyes fluttered shut. "I cried a little. Just a tiny bit. And then you rubbed my back. You were finally being nice, even if you were sweaty."
"I'm the one who's supposed to rub your back," Shouto frowned, his voice cracking with a raw, jagged jealousy.
He moved the cloth to Katsuki’s chest, rubbing a little more firmly than necessary, as if he could physically erase the memory of the stranger’s touch. He was losing the battle with his own temper, but seeing Katsuki like this—flushed, vulnerable, and completely oblivious to how close he’d come to a dangerous situation—made Shouto’s protective instincts override his anger.
"He wasn't nice, Katsuki. He was a stranger," Shouto muttered, tossing the cloth into the sink and grabbing a soft pair of pajamas.
He began to undress Katsuki with efficient movements, his hands lingering on Katsuki's waist. He was marking his territory in his own way, his touch firm and constant, reminding Katsuki’s body who actually belonged there.
"You're never going back there," Shouto whispered, pulling the soft cotton shirt over Katsuki’s head. "I don't care if I have to skip every architecture gala for the rest of my life. You're staying in this apartment. With me. Where I can rub your back and you don't have to cry to strangers."
Katsuki hummed, his head falling forward onto Shouto’s shoulder as he was maneuvered into his pants. "Mmm...okay. No more sweaty Shous. Just the pretty one."
Shouto let out a ragged sigh, picking Katsuki up one last time to carry him to the safety of their bed.
* * *
The Saturday morning sun was a personal insult to Katsuki’s retinas. He groaned, a sound that was more of a pained rattle, and tried to roll over to escape the light. But he couldn't. There was a heavy, immovable weight anchored across his middle. He saw an arm like an iron bar pinning him to the mattress.
Katsuki squinted, his vision blurry without his glasses, and felt the hot, steady breath of Shouto against the back of his neck.
"Ugh...Shouto, let go," Katsuki croaked, his voice sounding like he’d swallowed a bag of gravel. "My head hurts and I need water. I feel like I got hit by a chemical explosion, and the glass from a beaker entered my brain. Why are you being so touchy?"
He tried to shimmy out of the hold, but the grip only tightened. Shouto didn't move an inch. Instead, he buried his face deeper into the crook of Katsuki’s neck, his nose brushing against the sensitive skin right behind Katsuki's ear.
"Stay," Shouto mumbled, his voice thick with a possessiveness that Katsuki was too hungover to decode.
"Stay? I'm dying of dehydration over here!" Katsuki huffed, though he didn't have the strength to actually fight back. He reached out blindly, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand. "What happened last night? I remember the walk there...you being a total prick...and then...nothing. Did I win a karaoke contest or something?"
Shouto’s heart did a slow, painful thud against Katsuki’s spine. The fact that Katsuki didn't remember the 'other Shou,' crying into a stranger's shoulder, and the panicked, sweaty guy rubbing his back made Shouto’s protective instincts flare into a white-hot blaze.
If Katsuki didn't remember, he didn't know how close he’d come to being taken care of by someone else. He didn't know how much he’d scared Shouto.
"You aren't going anywhere," Shouto said, his voice dropping into that low, absolute tone that usually meant he was designing a building or winning an argument. "I’ll get you water. I’ll get you medicine. But you aren't leaving this bed, and you aren't leaving this room."
Katsuki blinked, finally getting his glasses on and looking back over his shoulder at his boyfriend’s intense, brooding face. "Whoa. You’re being weirdly intense. Did I barf on you? Is that it? I’m sorry, okay? Just let me go pee."
Shouto finally shifted, but only enough to loom over Katsuki, his bi-colored eyes scanning every inch of Katsuki’s face as if checking for any lingering traces of the night before. He thought about the way Katsuki had smiled at that stranger, that Other Shou.
"You didn't barf on me," Shouto said, his hand sliding up to cup Katsuki’s jaw, his thumb pressing firmly against the blonde’s lower lip. "But you're never going to a karaoke bar again. Or any bar. From now on, your socializing happens right here. Within my reach."
Katsuki’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion, his mouth opening to retort something about overbearing architects, but the words died in his throat when he saw the raw, jagged look in Shouto’s eyes.
"Okay, fine, you possessive weirdo," Katsuki grumbled, his ears turning pink despite the headache. "Just...bring the water here. And maybe some toast. If I’m stuck in this tower, I want service."
Shouto leaned down, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to the corner of Katsuki’s mouth in a silent, marking gesture. "Whatever you want, Katsuki. As long as you stay right here."
Shouto returned to the bed with a glass of ice water and two tablets, but he didn't hand them over immediately. He sat on the edge of the mattress, looming over Katsuki with an expression that was halfway between a protective gargoyle and a grieving widow.
"Drink," Shouto commanded, helping Katsuki sit up.
Katsuki drained the glass in seconds, his throat clicking as he swallowed. Once he set the glass down, he squinted at Shouto’s stony face. "Okay, spill. You’re acting like I committed a federal crime in my sleep. What the hell did I do?"
Shouto took a slow, deliberate breath. "You didn't do anything wrong, Katsuki. But you got...confused. You found a booth, sat in a stranger's lap, and cried into his neck because you thought he was me."
Katsuki froze. For a long, silent second, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall. Then, a sharp, dry laugh escaped his lips.
"Nice try, Half-and-Half. That's a pathetic lie," Katsuki scoffed, though his face was rapidly turning a shade of red that matched his eyes. "That doesn’t sound right. Are you making it up because you’re still mad at me? Is this some twisted prank for me wanting to stay home the other night?"
"It's not a prank," Shouto said, his voice flat and heavy.
"It has to be!" Katsuki’s brows furrowed in a desperate, confused denial. "I don't hug strangers! I don't even like you touching me when I’m grumpy! Why would I sit on some random guy? You’re just trying to make me feel guilty so I don't complain about your stupid architecture parties anymore."
Shouto looked at him. He saw the way Katsuki was clutching the duvet, his knuckles white, his eyes darting around as he tried to find a version of reality where he hadn't been that vulnerable.
Shouto felt the irritation rising, ready to snap back about how he was the one who had to scare the guy off, but then it died in his throat. He looked at Katsuki’s messy hair and his crooked glasses, and all he could see was that terrified student rubbing Katsuki’s back.
In another world, with a different stranger, someone less scared and more opportunistic, Katsuki might not have made it home in Shouto’s arms. He could have been someone else's boyfriend for a night that would have scarred them both forever.
Shouto let out a long, shuddering sigh, the fight leaving him entirely. He leaned forward, boxing Katsuki in with his arms and pressing his forehead against the blonde's.
"I wish I were making it up," Shouto whispered, his voice cracking. "I wish I hadn't seen it. But you were so sad, Katsuki. You told him I was being mean to you. You asked him to stay home next time."
Katsuki went quiet, his breathing hitching. The denial was still there, but the raw honesty in Shouto’s voice was starting to poke holes in it.
"I...I said that?" Katsuki whispered, his eyes finally welling up with frustrated, hungover tears.
"You did," Shouto murmured, his heart aching as he pulled Katsuki into a crushing embrace, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of Katsuki's neck. "But it’s okay. I’m here now. And I’m never letting you get that far away from me again. If you want to stay home, we stay home. If you want to cuddle, we cuddle. I’m done being the 'mean Shou.'"
Katsuki didn't argue. He buried his face in Shouto's chest, his hands gripping the back of Shouto’s shirt like a lifeline. "You better not be lying, you bastard," he muffled into the fabric.
"I'm not," Shouto promised, his eyes darkening with a fresh wave of possessiveness. "Now, go back to sleep. I’m not letting go until Monday."
* * *
Shouto didn’t even look up from his laptop. His jaw was set in a firm, unyielding line as his finger hovered over the 'Decline' button on a series of calendar invites. The blue light of the screen washed over his face, his expression looking colder than usual, until he glanced over at the mass of blankets where Katsuki was currently burrowed.
"Shou?" Katsuki croaked, squinting as he tried to focus on the screen from over Shouto’s shoulder. "What are you doing? Those are important for your networking. You’re supposed to get an internship at that firm—the one with the fancy glass atrium."
Shouto clicked Delete on the gala invite. Then he moved to the next one, a mixer for the senior design cohort, and clicked Decline there, too.
"I don't need a glass atrium," Shouto said, his voice low and devoid of any doubt. "And I don't need to network with people who think a Friday night is better spent in a loud bar than here."
Katsuki’s brow furrowed, his discombobulated brain trying to keep up. He felt a weird mix of guilt and a strange, fluttering warmth in his chest. "But...you've been talking about that internship for months. You said the lead architect was a genius. You're throwing it away because I.. because I sat on a 'sweaty Shou'?"
Shouto finally turned, closing the laptop with a definitive thud. He moved back into the center of the bed, crawling over the duvet until he was hovering over Katsuki. He tucked a stray blonde lock behind Katsuki’s ear, his touch lingering on the sensitive skin there.
"I'm throwing it away because I almost lost you in a room full of people I don't even like," Shouto murmured, his eyes dark with a possessive shadow. "The 'genius' architect can wait. My priorities were skewed, Katsuki. I thought I had to be 'Popular Shouto' to succeed, but 'Popular Shouto' is the one who was mean to you. I’d rather be the guy who stays home and makes you spicy ramen."
Katsuki pouted, his face heating up. "You’re being...dramatic. You’re an overachieving drama queen."
"Maybe," Shouto conceded, his hand sliding down to grip Katsuki’s waist through the blankets, pulling him flush against his chest. "But I'm a drama queen who isn't going anywhere. From now on, if they want to network with me, they can email me during office hours. My Friday nights are strictly reserved for my grumpy, nerd-glasses boyfriend."
Katsuki huffed, but he didn't push him away. Instead, he let his head thump against Shouto’s shoulder, his fingers curling into the hem of Shouto’s shirt.
"Fine," Katsuki whispered, his voice finally losing its edge of confusion. "But if you fail your degree, don't come crying to me. I’m the one with the high GPA, remember?"
Shouto let out a soft, relieved laugh, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'll keep that in mind. Now, stop talking. You're still hungover, and I'm still making sure you don't disappear again."
Katsuki hummed, closing his eyes as the tower felt more and more like the only place he ever wanted to be.
* * *
Sunday morning bled into a lazy afternoon, and for the first time in months, the heavy weight of university expectations seemed to stop at the front door. The apartment was warm, smelling of toasted sesame oil and the sharp, mouth-watering sting of chili flakes.
Katsuki was finally upright, though he was still cocooned in a nest of blankets on the sofa. His headache had retreated to a dull thrum, replaced by a ravenous hunger that Shouto was more than happy to feed.
Shouto emerged from the kitchen carrying two steaming bowls of ramen, having gone all out to satisfy Katsuki's specific tastes. The meal featured extra marinated soft-boiled eggs and double portions of spicy chashu pork, all submerged in a broth so vibrantly red it resembled molten lava.
"Here," Shouto murmured, settling onto the sofa and tucking himself firmly against Katsuki’s side. He didn't just hand over the bowl; he made sure the tray was stable and even opened a fresh bag of the Extreme Heat habanero chips Katsuki obsessed over.
Katsuki took a long, appreciative slurp of the noodles, his eyes fluttering shut as the spice hit his tongue. "Finally. Actual food. Not that garbage 'juice' from the bar."
Shouto watched him eat with a gaze that was almost uncomfortably attentive. He wasn't eating much himself; he was too busy doting. Every time Katsuki reached for a napkin, Shouto already had one ready. When Katsuki’s water glass reached the halfway mark, Shouto was up to refill it before Katsuki could even ask.
"You’re staring again, Shou," Katsuki mumbled through a mouthful of noodles, though he didn't sound particularly annoyed. "You look like a dog guarding a bone."
Shouto didn't deny it. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over the back of Katsuki’s hand. The image of Katsuki’s confused, teary face in that bar was burned into his retinas, a permanent reminder of what happens when he lets go.
"I just like looking at you," Shouto said simply. "And I like knowing exactly where you are."
Katsuki huffed, his cheeks flushed from the spice and the bluntness of the compliment. He reached into the bag of chips and held one out to Shouto’s mouth—a silent peace offering. Shouto took the bite, wincing at the heat, but he didn't pull away.
"We're watching the movie now," Katsuki announced, grabbing the remote and scrolling until he found an old, loud action flick they’d both seen a dozen times. "No deep-sea squids today. I want to see stuff blow up."
As the opening credits rolled, Shouto pulled Katsuki back into his lap, ignoring the protests of "I'm trying to eat, you clingy bastard!" until Katsuki settled in, leaning his weight fully against Shouto’s chest.
Shouto rested his chin on Katsuki’s shoulder, his arms wrapped securely around the blonde’s waist. He felt a profound sense of relief. There were no strangers here. No "Other Shous." No crowded rooms where his boyfriend could get lost in the noise.
"You're okay?" Shouto whispered in his ear.
Katsuki leaned his head back, his glasses clinking against Shouto’s forehead. He looked at the bowl of spicy ramen, the chips, and the man who was currently holding him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
"Yeah, Shou," Katsuki muttered, his voice softening into something genuine. "I'm okay. This is...this is better than the bar."
Shouto squeezed him tighter, a silent vow echoing in his mind. He never wanted to see Katsuki in anyone else's space again. If it took a thousand bowls of ramen and a lifetime of cancelled parties to keep this version of Katsuki safe, fed, and entirely his, then he’d consider it the best trade he’d ever made.