The Art Of Thorns|| BakuDeku Au

03|| The Art Of Being A Fucking Roommate (1)

03|| THE ART OF BEING A FUCKING ROOMMATE (1)

"Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly."
― William Shakespeare, As You Like It

                                             ╭────»»❀❀❀««────╮

It was days like this, with Katsuki silently suffering from choking down petal after petal and thorn after thorn in the middle of something important, that he'd come to the conclusion that life fucking hated him.                

Naturally, some part of him knew he was most likely blowing things out of proportion―which he tended to do regularly―but this did nothing to ease his tempestuous mind. 

Aizawa had been understandably upset with the students, though empathetic just the same. He assessed the damage thoroughly, sending each of them to Recovery Girls' office to do a quick check-up. They weren't permitted to enter the dorm rooms for a few hours while the staff conversed with one another on how to handle the situation without delaying anything more than need be.

Nezu had generously offered to repay for all of the damage done to the students' interior decorations and necessities that got destroyed in the crossfire. Which everyone had rejoiced about.

Katsuki had spent the better part of the two hours lounging in the courtyard with the others. The sun had finally set, painting the field of grass and concrete in an ethereal glow of blue and purple. Most importantly, it had done the same for Izuku's skin. Something he found himself staring from time to time . . . No matter the damage it did to his lungs to do so.

But damn it, right now he couldn't possibly care. 

It was a bittersweet, one-sided, exchange between the boys. As much as it pained him to admit, those minutes where Katsuki had feared the worst for Izuku . . . that he had been caught crossfire of Kaminari's mishap . . . it sent his entire body into a silent frenzy. He hadn't been able to tear his eyes away from the boy ever since. Worried. Always so worried for him.

He was laughing with Uraraka and Todoroki, the sound flowing like music to Katsuki's ears. So breathy and carefree. The soot that once stained his cheeks had been wiped clean off long ago, replaced by its usual rosy hue and skin full of freckles.

Damn it, Izuku would be the death of him.

Quite literally, in fact.

At this point, Katsuki knew his staring was beginning to attract attention. The blond had only been half paying attention to what his friends were discussing, but the way Ashido had stopped mid-sentence and angled her body to stare at Katsuki, he knew he had been caught in the act. But again, he had not a damn care in the world right now.

In hindsight, Katsuki knew he seemed kind of . . . stalker-like . . . obsessive . . . and all-around questionable. But in his defense . . . the disease made him do it.

"Katsuki?"

Katsuki gave a noncommitting grunt in response, arms folded and scarlet eyes never peering away from Izuku. It psychically pained him to even think about looking away. He stifled a cough as he felt the telltale sign of satin-smooth petals running along the line of his inner throat. 

Damn it all to hell.

"You've been staring at Midoriya for the past―" Sero looked down as his watch, "―forty minutes, bro. You good?"

Again, another grunt of acknowledgment was given in response as he continued to stare at the boy in question. Izuku and Uraraka were speaking quietly to themselves, leaned over in hushed whispers and muted laughter. Katsuki's heart stuttered when a bright, dimpled smile broke out into Izuku's face. He smiled.