The gentle light of the streetlamps and glow of the vending machines tinge the deep evening sky with cool tendrils of light that swirl and billow outwards.
Two sets of measured steps echoed along the sides of the overpass, gentle against the thrum of the traffic above, and the whizz of a passing bike.
The peach-flavored Calpis Jirou requested jostled and pressed, weighty, in Shouto's bag, lightly cutting circulation to the fingers on his right hand.
Click. Click.
The two forms made their way to an intersection. The plastic bags in hand flicker and catch light from the steps they descend.
Skin-heat rose and pressed away the chilled evening air to kiss the sides where they moved, millimeters apart from each other.
"Shouto."
"Hm?"
Quietly, Bakugou brushed his fingers against Todoroki's.
Ears heated, his eyes flick over to the still crinkling bags, the road, and back.
Each step is thunder- thick, deafening.
Through the seemingly crackling air, he turns towards Shouto.
He flushed at the understanding warmth in Shouto's eyes, and then again, even more at the way Shouto caught his hand gently as he had begun to pull away. Sliding their fingers together.
Shouto's thumb pressed against his knuckle, and the warmth from there, from the press of their palms sliding together, catching onto their calluses, crept up his arm and sat full and heavy in his cheeks, swishing about like a particularly satisfied cat.
How he'd managed the first half of his life without this, Katsuki doesn't know. He presses his arm closer to Shouto, skin sliding, burning on contact.
"Let's go get taiyaki."
He doesn't want this to end.
"Ok."
Let's stay like this, just a little longer.