Chapter Text
The season ended the way it began—with Japan on top.
Bakugo watched the final match from a hotel bar in Manila, South Korea's own season already wrapped.
On screen, Todoroki moved like something inevitable, like he'd spent the last few months learning exactly how untouchable he could be.
The game finished 2-1, Japan's second consecutive championship, and when the confetti fell Bakugo saw Todoroki's smile—the one that didn't quite reach his eyes. Like he knew he did well, but damn he was tired.
The headlines came fast. Todoroki Shoto: Back-to-Back MVP Frontrunner.
Most Dominant Season in League History, Without Coach Todoroki.
Two weeks later, the league made it official at a resort in Singapore.
Bakugo straightened his tie in the bathroom mirror of the Marina Bay Sands, Kirishima leaning against the doorframe behind him.
Kirishima gave him a once over. "You good?"
"Fine."
"You've adjusted that thing like four times."
Bakugo's hands stilled on the silk.
In the mirror, his reflection looked composed. Like someone who was definitely not about to walk into a room full of cameras and reporters and watch his boyfriend accept an award he couldn't celebrate properly.
"I'm fine," he said again.
Kirishima just nodded, giving him a sympathetic smile, and didn't push the subject any further.
*
Bakugo had been to plenty of these—award ceremonies, galas, the kind of mandatory networking events that came with the job.
But this time felt different, because for some reason he was tense as fuck.
Every camera flash made his shoulders tight, every reporter's glance lasted a second too long, and he couldn't tell if he was paranoid or if they were actually watching.
He found a spot near the back, Kirishima at his side, and tried not to look like he was scanning the room.
Kaminari was at another table with Sero, who'd flown in to attend the ceremony with his boyfriend.
And no, Bakugo was not jealous, thanks for asking.
Then Todoroki walked in.
And like... fuck.
He looked—Bakugo's brain stuttered over the word and landed on devastating.
Charcoal suit, slim cut, the kind of tailoring that cost more than most people's rent.
His hair was styled back, silver necklace just visible at his collar, and when he moved through the crowd it was with that same fluid confidence he'd carried all season.
And even in a room filled with hundreds of people, Todoroki found Bakugo so easily.
Their eyes met across the room.
Just for a second. Just long enough for Bakugo's heart to ache for him.
Then someone pulled Todoroki toward a photographer, and Bakugo lost sight of him.
*
The ceremony itself was brutal.
Bakugo stood with the rest of the crowd as one of the hosts took the stage, as they ran through the season highlights, as Todoroki's name was finally called.
The applause was deafening. Cameras flashed like strobe lights as Todoroki crossed to the podium, and Bakugo clapped until his palms stung because it was the only thing he could do.
Todoroki's speech was brief. He thanked his teammates, his coaches, the league. His voice was steady, and Bakugo knew—knew—that he'd practiced this, that he'd stood in front of a mirror somewhere and rehearsed keeping his composure.
Because Bakugo knew how much Todoroki hated being the center of attention, no matter how much he deserved it.
When Todoroki's gaze swept the room and caught on him for half a breath, Bakugo felt it like a hand around his throat.
Because he was so fucking proud of that man, and was absolutely not allowed to show it.
*
The cocktail hour was worse.
Bakugo nursed a whiskey at the bar, fielding congratulations from players he barely knew, smiling through small talk about South Korea's strong season.
Across the room, Todoroki was surrounded—reporters, officials, teammates, everyone wanting a piece of the MVP.
He looked perfect. Bakugo couldn't help but stare.
But he also looked... exhausted.
Bakugo was on his second drink when he felt it—that pull, that gravitational thing that had been killing him since the moment Todoroki walked in.
He looked up.
Todoroki was moving toward him.
Not obviously. Not in a way anyone else would notice.
But Bakugo could see the path he was carving through the crowd, and his pulse kicked up because no, don't, we can't—
Todoroki stopped beside him at the bar, close enough that Bakugo could smell his cologne. "Good evening, Katsuki."
God, his name in that voice.
Bakugo gripped his glass tighter.
"Congratulations," he managed. Fucking barely.
"Thank you." Todoroki signaled the bartender, and ordered something Bakugo didn't hear.
His hands were still, but there was tension in his shoulders, in the careful way he wasn't quite looking at Bakugo directly.
They stood there in silence. The ballroom hummed around them—laughter, music, the clink of glasses—but Bakugo could only hear his own heartbeat.
Then Todoroki's hand came up, fingers brushing the cuff of Bakugo's sleeve where it had somehow twisted.
The touch was feather-light, the kind of unconscious gesture that partners made without thinking.
Todoroki's fingers lingered on his wrist, thumb pressing gently against his pulse point, and Bakugo forgot how to breathe.
Lean in, something in him screamed. Just lean in, just close the distance, just—
He didn't.
But god, he wanted to.
He wanted it so badly his chest hurt, wanted to turn into Todoroki's space and press their lips together and whisper I missed you I missed you I missed you until the words stopped meaning anything.
Todoroki's eyes were half-lidded, tired and wanting, and Bakugo watched his throat work on a swallow.
Bakugo was three seconds away from risking it all, when Kirishima walked over.
"There you guys are!" His voice was loud and bright, and his arm slung around both their shoulders like he'd just found his best friends at a party. His smile was wide, but his whisper was urgent. "Lots of photographers here, my dudes."
Todoroki's hand dropped from Bakugo's wrist. "Nice to see you, Kirishima."
Bakugo felt the retreat like cold water.
Kirishima kept smiling, kept his arm around them both, and to anyone watching it just looked like three friends catching up.
Besides the fact that Bakugo wanted to scream.
"Shima!"
Midoriya appeared through the crowd, and Bakugo watched him take in the scene—Kirishima's pose, the careful distance Bakugo and Todoroki were trying to maintain...
Understanding flashed across Midoriya's face.
"It's so good to see you!" he called out, loud enough to turn heads, and then he was pulling all three of them into a hug.
Midoriya laughed and squeezed tighter, pulling them all together, and in the center of it—hidden by Kirishima's bulk and Midoriya's exuberance—Bakugo felt Todoroki's hand find his.
Just for a second. Just their fingers threading together in the space no one could see, and Bakugo squeezed back so hard it probably hurt.
Then Midoriya was pulling back, still grinning, and their hands separated.
Todoroki's fingers slipped away and Bakugo felt the loss like a wound.
"Congratulations, Shoto!" Midoriya was saying, completely sincere. "You were outstanding this season. Best captain I've ever had."
"Thank you." Todoroki's eyes were still on Bakugo. "I'm so lucky to have your support. I really couldn't have done it without you."
Bakugo stared right back at him.
Kirishima launched into some story about South Korea's season, keeping the conversation moving, keeping them all looking natural.
Bakugo let the words wash over him. His hand still felt warm where Todoroki had held it.
Across the ballroom, a camera flashed.
*
They didn't get another moment alone.
Todoroki was pulled away by reporters, then other players, then more photographers.
Bakugo watched him move through the room, watched him answer questions and be everything the league wanted their MVP to be.
And it was kind of devastating. To be so close, and so far away at the same time.
So Bakugo left early.
Kirishima walked him out.
In the elevator back to his room, Bakugo's phone buzzed.
Tori:
I miss you already.
Bakugo stared at the screen until it blurred.
Katy:
miss you too
so fucking proud of you tho
Three dots appeared, and stayed for a while.
Like Todoroki was either crafting the longest text imaginable, or typing and deleting over and over.
Bakugo just stared as the elevator moved.
Tori:
I don't know how long I can keep doing this.
The distance, and... the hiding.
It's killing me.
I just wanna hold your hand.
The elevator doors opened.
Bakugo stepped into the hallway, and he felt tears behind his eyes.
Katy:
soon. promise.
He didn't know how. Didn't know when. But standing in that hallway, hand aching where Todoroki had touched him, he meant it.
They'd figure it out.
His phone buzzed again.
Tori:
Can I see you?
Please?
Room 3247.
Bakugo looked down the hallway.
He thought about the cameras in the lobby, and the reporters still lingering at the hotel bar.
He thought about all the ways that this could go wrong.
Katy:
gimme ten minutes baby
***