And They Were Roommates 2

Years Younger

He's drowning.
Dual coloured hair floats in front of his eyes, waving almost mockingly. The speckling sunlight gets further and further away as he continues to sink into darkness. His limbs don't move the way he wants them too and his lungs feel on the edge of bursting.
He can't breathe-

The light blinds him as he snaps up into a sitting position. He can hear himself hyperventilating, whole body convulsing with heaving breaths. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust.

He expects a number of things. Maybe a creepy basement - or a suspicious facility. Honestly, just somewhere he isn't familiar with. So it shocks him when he find himself in his own room.
Except it's not his room in Tokyo.
It's his dorm room.

He sits in stupor for a moment - blinking like he's not seeing things right. And he can't be seeing things right because he's looking at something impossible. His dorm room doesn't exist anymore. He'd never forget the feelings he felt packing boxes at the end of their final year. And yet, everything's exactly where he placed it. The tea set Momo gifted him on his coffee table, a halfway finished manga at his bedside - a pile of fresh textbooks on his drawers.
What kind of sick game is this?

Shouto doesn't get to answer that question as there's a knock at his door. He immediately freezes, unsure of his next actions.
There isn't the possibility that he's physically travelled back in time. Those kind of quirks simply don't exist, which means this is a very well crafted set - or he's under some sort of illusion.

"Oi! Open this fucking door, Half'n'half."

What?

Shouto can't quell the burst of relief at the sound of Katsuki's voice. He rises to his feet, a little disoriented being so close to the floor. He hasn't slept on a futon in a long time. It has to be some sort of trick. Cautiously, he unlocks his door, quirk at the ready.

Even though he expects Katsuki - he doesn't expect this Katsuki.

"Did you forget about our spar? I've been waiting for ten minutes, asshole."
Katsuki looks...
Young.
Like 18 year old young. Like - no stubble, no frown lines kind of young. He's thinner, smaller and his hair is a literal birds nest.

"Katsuki?" He breathes.
"The fuck?! Don't use my fucking first name." Bakugou snaps, contradicting the sudden redness seeping up his neck.
Oh.
Shouto forgot.
They didn't date in UA. They're just friends. Or rather not not friends as Bakugou used to say.

"Ugh you're such an idiot. You look like shit."
Actually, Todoroki has no idea what he looks like. Is he young too?
The skin on his face feels the same - he can't really tell if he's a few years younger or not. Bakugou is slightly taller than him though. Now that he thinks about it, the only year Bakugou has ever been taller than him was third year. His own growth spurt was a little later.

"Don't- don't take it seriously bastard - you're just acting weird."  Bakugou stumbles out, getting increasingly agitated. Shouto can almost hear his teeth grinding, hands balling into fists.
He also forgot how easy it was to rile Katsuki up.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to think of a reply as the door to the right of them clicks open.
"Bakugou. It's 8 in the morning, my guy."
"Yeah Kacchan, we're trying to have a slumby."

He peaks past his door frame, matching eyes with Sero, who instantly frowns at whatever expression he's making.
"You good, Roki?"
No. No he is definitely not good. All of this had to be some kind of dream - an awful game. But everyone's too real. This can't just be made up.

"Guys? What's going on?"
Shouto's on the verge of tears as he watches a head of red hair peak from behind Kaminari.
Eijiro.
His hair is shorter, just shy of ponytail length. There's couple scars missing on his face but his eyes are still bright and kind. Somehow, he doesn't seem like he's changed at all. 
"Todoroki?" Kirishima questions, noticing his stare.
Todoroki.

This isn't real. It can't be real. It has to be an illusion.

"I'm..." He starts.
Several sets of eyes watch him with varied degrees of concern. Kaminari finally seems to blink out of his sleepy haze, swivelling to figure out what's going on.
"... about to pass out."

It's Bakugou that catches him.

...

"What did you do?"
"What? Nothing!"
"Then why the fuck was he looking at you like you threw his damn soba on the ground."
"I would never!"

Shouto sighs, burying his face further into the warm skin of Bakugou's neck. The blonde is holding each of his thighs in a firm grip. It feels nice - comforting. The rhythmic sways of each step rock him into a prolonged doze. There's faint bird song and the breeze makes his hair tickle against his skin.

"Is he ill?"
"Doesn't feel hot."

Bakugou tightens his grip, and jolts Shouto a little further up his back, hands sliding higher on his thighs. Shouto's arms fall over Bakugou's wide shoulders, bumping against his chest. He groans a little as his bangs are brushed from his face, exposing him to the morning sun.

"He looks pretty out of it. He was fine yesterday though, right?"
"Yeah, it's weird."
"Hopefully recovery girl will know what to do."
"She fuckin' better."

Shouto squeezes his eyes shut, curling into Katsuki's back. He wishes Eijiro's hand had lingered a little longer.

Please - please don't let go.