Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Bakugou, we’re going to be late.”

Distantly Katsuki hears his asshole roommate complaining about getting to the one class they have together, but he can’t open his eyes to see him. Who’s we?

He tries to tell him to fuck off, but all he manages is a soft, pathetic groan.

Everything hurts.

His bones feel like they’re made of lead, and his muscles ache in every possible way. His nose is stuffed, and his throat feels like he swallowed a pint of gasoline. And that asshole thinks he can talk to him.

Something ice cold touches his forehead. Katsuki winces, his eyes fluttering open just enough to see the silhouette of– something before the cold thing is taken away, making him whine softly in dismay. He didn’t realize it felt good until it was gone.

Todoroki says something else (at least he thinks it’s him), but Katsuki may as well be in another room for how it sounds in his ears. It’s just probably some weirdo bullshit and not actually anything important.

Sleep claims him before it matters.

He hates these kinds of dreams. Nightmares he can handle, but these vivid, near acid trips make him feel like he’s going to barf. He tries to wake himself up multiple times to knock himself out of it, but the one time he managed to force his eyes open, there was a big red and white chicken sitting on Todoroki’s bed. Fuck, he wishes his dad was here.

He hasn’t been this sick since he was seven years old and pledged he would never get sick again, but then some loser sneezed straight into his mouth two days ago. Can you believe it? Didn’t even try to cover it up or anything. It was biological warfare with Katsuki as the first victim—and last if he ever figures out how to get out of this bed and do something about it.

It feels like he’s in and out of it for days, his eyes unable to open long enough to decide if the sun is out or if the light behind his eyes is the first sign he’s made it to the afterlife. Either way, before he can come to any conclusion, he falls asleep again.

He’s barely conscious when his head is lifted up, someone in the distance grunting as they prop him up. His mouth is forced open and a sticky sweet pill is pushed past his lips. He swallows it before the coating can melt in his mouth, his dry throat soothed by the bottle of water tipped towards him after it. Water dribbles down his chin all the way to his chest, but fuck does it taste good. Has water always tasted like this?

It’s too cold as it slides down his throat. He coughs pathetically, even as he’s lowered back down. He blinks his eyes open long enough to see a cornflower cashmere sweater, and frowns slightly.

Dad?

Did he come?

No, his hands have never been this cold.

They touch his face again, feeling his forehead with clumsy pats before a tissue is roughly shoved beneath his nose with a merciless swipe. He tries to jerk away, but he’s too weak to move. He hates how raw and sticky he feels enough without the reminder that he’s crusty too.

“Stop,” he rasps before he’s given more water. He gulps it down until he physically can’t drink anymore, his head sinking into the pillow as once again sleep drags him down.

The next time he wakes, his body doesn’t hurt anymore. Well, it does, but the aches are manageable. Whatever medicine he was given kicks in enough that he is disgustingly aware of how filthy he is. His clothes and sheets are soaked with sweat and snot, and god, the room he shares with that persnickety asshole probably stinks like the dead. He’s never going to hear the end of it. Todoroki probably asked for a temporary transfer already and got his loaded ass parents to pay for it.

Katsuki misses his own loaded ass parents so much it makes his eyes burn.

“Bakugou, you need to eat something,” a voice says, muffled like he’s under water. Katsuki mumbles an incoherent response that he doesn’t want to, which goes ignored as he’s hoisted back up. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”

He thinks he can do it himself, but neither his mouth nor his arms move to declare it. He does manage to blink his eyes open long enough to see Todoroki furrowing his brow at him with a sharp crease between them Katsuki could stick a coin into. Katsuki can’t focus on his eyes long enough to decide what color they are today, a fact that changes depending on how annoying he is. Mushrooms and anti-freeze for days Katsuki wishes he got the solo room. Storm clouds and butterfly wings when Todoroki dresses up to go out without telling him where or without coming home.

Fucker.

He feels his breath blow lightly into his face.

The blandest soup he’s ever tasted in his life is spooned into his mouth like an ancient form of torture. He grimaces, but he isn’t lucky enough to escape it. He can’t smell anything, but if he had to guess, it probably smells like dishwater and old people feet. Whoever made this should be charged with attempted murder.

Katsuki is fed a cruel amount of soup before he’s finally released, and with no hesitation at all, he curls back into his bed, pulling the blanket over his head in case Todoroki ordered chocolate covered mothballs for dessert.

He sleeps for another length of time until he hears someone’s voice low on the opposite side of the room.

“Should I call for an ambulance?”

“No,” Katsuki tries to answer, but the person isn’t talking to him.

“I found his advisor this morning. She said she’ll email his professors for me, but I don’t know his passcode to call his parents. No, I– I don’t have their numbers. I don’t think he likes me very much. I got the medicine you told me to, and I think his fever’s gone down, but he’s still sleeping right now. Thank you, Nee-san. I’ll call you if something happens.”

For some reason Katsuki feels like he did something very, very wrong.

Two days later Katsuki can sit up on his own.

There’s a plastic bag of medicine on his side table from the pharmacy a couple blocks away from campus with a half-empty bottle of water and an unopened liquid IV. His trashcan is full of used tissues, but he can’t remember ever blowing his nose.

He blinks in a daze, forcing himself to breathe in and out. He knows he’s gone to the bathroom a few times on his own, but this is the first time since he got sick that he’s actually felt like he was present in his own body.

This probably means he’s better.

The door opens, and Todoroki walks in, looking disheveled for the first time since they first met at the beginning of the semester. He sees Katsuki and stops before letting out a breath.

“You’re awake,” he says, relieved.

“Yeah,” he says. His throat is still a little sore, but it’s not as bad as it could be. “How long was I down for?”

He takes a deep breath as his eyes shift up like he’s looking at an invisible calendar. “This would be day four.”

Katsuki’s face drops. “Shit.”

“Some of your professors should have emailed you the course material you missed, I think,” he says. “I sent you my notes from Ancient History if you want to look over them.”

“Thanks,” he says because there isn’t anything else he can say to that. No one asked him to take care of his classes. Katsuki would have been fine to do his own makeup work.

“It’s almost dinner time,” Todoroki says. “Do you want to try to eat something, or do you want more soup?”

“I don’t want to come anywhere near that fuc–,” he says automatically before he sees the slight change on Shouto’s face like a puppy just separated from his litter and swallows the rest down. And that’s who made the soup. Shit. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“You haven’t had anything solid in a few days,” he says. “I was about to go to the cafeteria to pick something up for myself. Do you want rice or a sandwich?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, rubbing his face when it seems that Todoroki isn’t taking that for an answer. “Sandwich, I guess. Whatever they’ve got left.”

Todoroki nods, satisfied with that. “I’ll get a sandwich and some fruit. You’re not allergic to anything are you?”

“Not that I know of,” he says.

“If you want to call your parents, I kept your phone charged,” he says. “Oh, and I didn’t want to invade your privacy, but when your mom called, I answered for you and told her you weren’t feeling well. I hope you don’t mind.”

Katsuki blinks, mildly surprised. “Oh. Thanks.”

“They were both worried,” he says. “Your parents. They sound like nice people.”

Because Katsuki’s never let him meet them.

That’s all he says before he leaves Katsuki alone, a heavy mountain of guilt making itself comfortable in his stomach.

I don’t think he likes me very much.

And yet he looked out for him this much, worrying himself to the bone and making himself look like a badger did his hair for him.

Katsuki’s face tugs down in a scowl. He really has been an asshole to him for no reason.

And he definitely told his parents once or twice just how much he hates him.

Because that’s what he has to tell himself to make nights when Todoroki goes out and doesn’t come back bearable.

He presses his mouth in his hand, and he doesn’t move until Todoroki comes back with dinner for both of them and a fresh bottle of water.

“They only had egg salad left,” he says. “I hope that’s alright.”

“I can’t taste nothing right now anyway,” he says before standing up. “You eat. I’m gonna take a bath before I gross myself out.”

Todoroki nods and pulls himself out a sad little box of soba, keeping to himself on his side of the room like he has ever since Katsuki first demanded it.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Thanks, uh, for not letting me die, I guess,” he says.

Todoroki nods, looking at his food and not at him. “That’s what friends are supposed to do.”

Katsuki rubs his face, his pulse picking up because he’s really about to just flip the switch here, isn’t he?

Well.

Fuck it.

“Hey, uh, when I’m not contagious anymore, there’s a little restaurant that sells the good shit,” he says, pointing vaguely at Shouto’s dinner. “Grandma style. It’s just a 10 minute ride on the train from here. I’ll take you so you don’t get lost.”

Shouto’s brows raise at the offer, but Katsuki turns and leaves before he can respond. It’s in the air now and out of his hands.

The steam makes him cough like an old man. It’s probably a good thing he didn’t use the word date. Any person with a brain would have taken one look at him like this and said fuck no.

Meanwhile, alone in their room, Shouto smiles to himself like he’s finally won something. He’s always heard that good things come to those who wait.

Who knows? Maybe one day Bakugou would like to come with him when he spends a night at his family’s estate. His sister is a much better cook than he is.

And he does know which restaurant he’s talking about, but he keeps that little fact to himself.