Maybe it was because of the lack of normal human contact in his childhood years, but Todoroki found it difficult to put his emotions into words.
Which is exactly why he covered up his scar with makeup and always wore a hood to university every day.
It had been like this ever since middle school.
He was abused at home by Enji and bullied because of his unusual looks in middle school. Luckily though, Fuyumi was kind enough to teach him some basic skin cover-ups, and while she suggested dying his hair, he was strangely against that idea.
Maybe because it was too much of a pain to maintain dyed hair, or maybe he thought of his two-toned hair as a strong reason to keep on hating Endeavor, he decided to hide them by wearing a hood, a cap, or, like on most days, a wig.
He knew grown-ass people probably wouldn't bully him for his hair like how a bunch of immature children did, (they had better things to do than that), but the very thought of having to deal with people he knows, with his natural hair out on display seemed to make him so anxious.
His thoughts were usually straight and to the point, but when it came to simple matters as such, they spiralled on and on.
Just like how he was right now, in bed, overthinking all this, instead of getting his act together and heading to uni.
He sighed, tying his hair back into a ponytail (he reminded himself to cut it later), and slapping on a headband and his black hoodie, he was all set.
He lugged around his bag, having to go through the painful ordeal he called college life. Most days, he didn't really mind studying, it was comforting, in a sense, it gave him a break from his thoughts, but these days, he couldn't concentrate at all, and it was because of that boy he met at the library.
It took him only about two days to finally admit that.
Checking the bare essentials he needed to survive uni, or rather, go through his day without any issues, he grabbed his keys, locked his doors, plugged in his earphones, and walked.
*
Izuku Midoriya slumped down on the table, breathing a heavy sigh.
"What happened, nerd? I thought you liked history? Never seen you of all people act so bored in class. You're always going on and on with that shit grin. Act like a regular human and hate studies sometimes, you freak."
"Says the one holding the 2nd rank in class?"
"It's called being naturally talented."
"Well, sorry for not being 'talented' like you, Kacchan."
The class held back some muffled chatter before the teacher bundled up the papers, did a classic 'thak' against the desk to get them in one neat pile, and finally left class, signifying lunch break.
"..."
"Oi," Kacchan grumbled, shifting in his seat to face Deku.
"What." He exclaimed, staring straight at the blond.
"Spit it out. What's bothering you?"
"Aw, is Kacchan actually worried about me?"
"I will punt you in the face with a wet sock."
"Why do you have a wet sock-?"
"Don't change the topic. Out with it already, I got better shit to do."
Izuku sighed again, "Okay, so there's this kinda pretty guy—"
"Nope."
"What-?"
"I said nope. Your silence was freaking me out, but I swear to god if I have to listen to your boy troubles-"
"It's not that, Kacchan, I don't have a crush on him, I swear."
(Bakugo Katsuki will remember that)
"Oh really?"
"Yes."
"There happens to be a 'kinda pretty guy' and you don't have a crush on him?"
"No, Kacchan, I don't have a crush on every pretty guy."
"That's news to me."
"kACCHAN—"
"I speak truth."
"No you don't. Besides, it's not just about their looks, you know?"
"Then what's it about?"
"It's their smile, Kacchan. They gotta have a pretty smile, you see? A smile brighter than anything I've ever seen."
"This is boring me."
"You started it."
"Because you have a crush on him."
"I do not."
"Then what is it?"
"It's just, I met this guy at the library over the weekend, and he called me a broccoli. So I sorta can't get him out of my head."
"The fuck is wrong with you?"
"Ouch. But anyway, I felt like I'd seen him somewhere, but I can't really tell."
"Whadd'he look like?"
"Very pretty, but he had a huge scar on his right? No, I think his left eye. And he also had two-toned hair. Like, red and white. Can you believe that, Kacchan? Red and white. And it was split perfectly half too. It's like he's an anime character."
"Hanging around with a broccoli sucked enough and now I hear about some candy cane freakshow. Great, I am surrounded by freaks."
"Kacchan, you literally look like someone exploded 7 squirrels on your head."
Deku got punched a lot that day.
"There's no way you've seen him around. Imagine forgetting about someone with two shades of half-split hair. Loser."
"You're kinda right. If I'd seen him before, I'd definitely have remembered his hair. There's no way I could forget. But there was something about him that made me feel like I know him?"
"This is so stupid."
"Kaccha, don't be mean-"
"What was his name? Did you ask him for that?"
"Wait I know, it was Todo-?" He trailed off, his eyeballs glancing to the left in deep thinking, "Todoroki. I think."
Bakugo's eyes widened.
"No fucking way." He slammed down the chopsticks he just broke apart.
"...you know him?"
"How do you NOT know him?"
"You mean that Todoroki? The second year Todoroki?"
"Yeah, the 'ice prince', apparently." He scoffed, clearly not holding him in high regard.
"What? No, that can't be, I don't think he studies here. I'd definitely have noticed him. Besides, the ice prince of our uni has white hair. And he doesn't speak a lot. No way he'd be working at a library of all places."
"But his name's Todoroki Shoto, idiot. Can't be a coincidence."
"But he doesn't even have a scar—"
Bakugo huffed, "Ever considered makeup? The old hag back home uses it to look somewhat presentable. Take it off and she looks like a devil. That thing works wonders."
Izuku chose to politely ignore that point.
"I want to check something. Do you think I could sneak a peek into the second-year building to see if I'm right?"
"Go ahead and do whatever you want, keep me out of this, I'm not tolerating you more than I have to." And with that, Bakugo Katsuki left him behind to continue to stuff his face with food.
"Suit yourself." Midoriya whispered before he made his way out of his class.
He was a first year, and so was Kacchan, so he hadn't met the Ice Prince as frequently as he should have, and if it really did turn out to be the guy from the library, he decided there was no harm in saying hello.
Although, he considered, it could get a little awkward.
He let out a "meh", shrugging his shoulders, and continued to walk.
It was a bit of a stretch, but he really hoped it was the same guy he met two days ago.
With that, Izuku hummed and entered the second-year building.
*
Recess was the most tiring part of the day, Shoto thought to himself.
He didn't want to come across as a braggart, but he was tired of being swarmed around by people constantly trying to push him into a conversation.
And without a teacher around to discipline the class, it was even harder to stop the crowd from, well, crowding around his desk.
"Heeeeeeey, Todo, dude, there's this mixer happening after school, and I heard some real hot chicks from Shiketsu would be there too, whaddya say about joining in?"
"Thanks, but I'm really not good with people. And please don't call me that."
Why are you even inviting me there? I don't even know you.
"Oh my God Shoto-san, do you have an Instagram? You gotta be lying if you say someone like you doesn't have thousands of followers."
"No?"
I don't have social media. Please stop asking that every day, I'm not lying.
"Todoroki-san, would you be willing to tutor me this semester? You're the highest in the grade, please—"
"I'm sorry, but I'm kind of busy."
Even if I did, I'm pretty sure you'd get bored of me soon. You should probably ask someone more likely to get along with.
"Shoto-san, can I please have a photo with you?"
"Why though."
Wouldn't you rather click it with someone famous?
"Todoroki, wanna—"
"No, sorry."
I'm not trying to look like a busybody, please just leave me alone.
"Hey, Todoroki, you gotta see this!"
"Yeah, that's funny."
Who even are you?
"Shoto! There you are! I've been looking for you! What happened to that—"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
We've never talked before. Why do you keep coming after me?
"Todoroki! Wanna sign up for our club?"
"Thanks, but I'm not really interested in basketball."
Please just stop. My head hurts.
"Todo-san, the teacher told you have to work on—"
"I will, thank you."
I'm used to it. This happens every day. But how much longer will it last today.
"Todoroki—"
HOW MUCH LONGE—
"So it was you! The guy from the library!"
His eyes, which were shut closed without him even realizing, suddenly snapped open.
He knew that voice.
His shaking eyes met those of the boy he met at his job.
He was met with a smile, a bright, calming smile. And welcoming eyes.
They were so green he found himself amazed by them.
The chatter continued, but it was a muffled blur. He couldn't hear it clearly.
But the words the boy spoke were very distinct.
"Oh but wait, it couldn't be you either. I mean, you've got different hair. But the face cut is so similar. So are the eyes." The broccoli boy from earlier, no, Midoriya Izuku, didn't seem to be talking to him, rather, he was whispering those words to himself.
He mumbled a lot.
"I'm sorry if it's the wrong person! Uh, but just in case—" he fumbled his words, glancing up at him, waiting for some sort of sign, some confirmation that maybe, just maybe, he was the same tall, quiet, awkward guy who helped him get a book down.
He was holding that very book in his hands.
Todoroki looked at him, then the book, then back at him again, vaguely aware of the array of questions directed towards him by his other classmates.
But right now, the only question he wanted to answer was his.
He wanted to say, 'Yes, it was me. I'm the one you met in the library. I look different because of reasons. But it's me, I promise. I helped you with that book, I accidentally called you a broccoli, I'm so sorry for that. I saw you humming as you left the store. I saw your soft, fluffy hair and I saw your horrible fashion sense. I also couldn't stop thinking about you for the last two days. I also want to know why you're here. Why didn't I recognize you if we went to the same uni? How did you find me here?'
But despite all that, he couldn't really speak.
He forced the words out of his mouth, leaning away from his desk, and almost standing up, starting at him.
His eyes spoke volumes.
But all he could actually push out, was, "What are you doing here?"
*
When I say this wasn't how their first after-first-meeting meeting was supposed to go-