Hitoshi's skin was crawling and Hitoshi's skeleton was crawling out of his meat suit.
That's how he felt at least.
He was being cooked alive, there was no other way to call it since he was sweaty enough to substitute for the broth where his meat-suit could be simmering.
He was lying in his bed, well, on his bed, on the covers, which provided at least a shadow of coolness against his hot skin. Even the fact that he has foregone clothing, leaving only his binder and panties on, didn't help.
"Someone please kill me," he murmured to himself, right before someone knocked on the door. "Are you there to kill me!?" he shouted at the door without thinking. Oh well.
"No, I'm here to be miserable alongside you because your room is a whole one degree colder than mine," came Izuku's slurred voice. Ah.
"Come in then, let's die together!" he rose to sitting position but then got hit with a wave of such intense laziness that he just flopped back on the bed without sparing it another thought. By god the heat was horrible.
Izuku let himself inside, put two water bottles on the night table, and sat on the bed heavily. He was bare-chested but wearing shorts— Nevermind! The piece of clothing hit the wall sadly and Izuku flopped on the bed, face-first, but carefully not to touch Hitoshi.
They spent an unknown amount of time just lying next to each other, breathing, trying to ignore the heat sipping into their bones, and making their skeleton want to crawl out of meat-suit.
Who invented this?
Finally, finally, after what felt like hours but has been actually minutes, Izuku rose from the bed with a groan and went to Hitoshi's wardrobe.
Hitoshi peered at him rummaging through the drawers with mild interest. Damn, he looked fine. His back muscles were just *chef's kiss* so carefully sculpted by hours spent in the gym and hauling trash. His shoulders were starting to get wider than his waist and Hitoshi felt a prickle of jealousy which was quickly overridden by the sheer appreciation of how strong and unshakable his boyfriend looked.
So maybe Hitoshi chose an eye candy, so what. Can you blame him?
Izuku's back wasn't the only thing worth watching. He had a bubble-butt so cute Hitoshi had to stop himself from squeezing it a few times a week. He just looked so damn good in his hero costume alright?
... Okay so maybe Hitoshi was a pervert—
But he never did those things. And the thinking was fine, it always has been a safe thing.
He doubted Izuku would mind the extra attention either way.
The main course of his body though was his thighs. Ah, the sweet sweet death Hitoshi so craved in this weather would be so much more enjoyable if it was dealt by Izuku squeezing his head between those thighs. What a way to go!
Before he could continue his musing Izuku got up and threw a bra straight on his face. Oh, come on.
"Change, knowing you you've been in the binder since the morning, it can't be comfortable."
"Nuuuuuuuuu…" Hitoshi whined, taking the fat-lump holder from his head. "I don't want to move."
Izuku looked at him disapprovingly.
"Do I need to get you out of it?" Of course, Hitoshi knew Izuku wouldn't touch him without permission but the thought disgusted him enough as it is so with a groan he rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a thump.
"Mmmmmm It's not colder than bed covers, I'm disappointed."
Izuku huffed, splaying himself on the bed. "Go change you goof."
Hitoshi looked at the door of the bathroom, then thought about the energy needed to stand up and then thought about pros and cons and it just didn't add up you see…
"Don't look down," he murmured unpinning his binder and quickly changing it for the bra— hold on. "Why the fuck did you choose the pink one, like why, why did you want to torture me? I feel betrayed. You lost your clothes-choosing privileges," he grumbled crawling back on the bed.
Izuku sent him an amused look.
"You mentioned this one is softer and not as hot as other ones. Thought you would appreciate it in this weather."
"Mmmmmm you've got the point but you still don't get your privileges back."
Hitoshi smiled to himself, it was nice, being able to suffer with someone instead of alone.