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When Izuku takes his first step into the room with mirrors on all the walls, he loses his breath. He turns, looks at himself in one mirror, and then turns again to look at himself in another, mesmerized.
He hears someone chuckle lowly from behind him—they must have just entered—and Izuku sees a boy who looks to be around his age reflected in the mirror before he whips around to face him. This stranger has a certain poise about him, a natural aura that compliments this very room and the mirrors in it. He’s very pretty, and Izuku’s breathing catches in his throat.
“Is it your first time here?” the boy inquires, gaze sweeping around the room but landing and sticking on Izuku. Izuku notices that his eyes are two different colors, one blue and one brown.
Izuku chokes up. “I—Yes—My—” He stops, re-orientates himself. “My grandma signed me up for… for a class… I…”
“The next class starts in fifteen minutes,” the boy says, and he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Usually people come to the front desk before wandering into the studio.”
Again, Izuku flusters. He curses himself for acting like this before he seals his mouth shut and, blushing, nods at the stranger and follows him back to the front room. He’ll have to tell his grandmother when she picks him up that she’d dropped him off on the wrong side of the building.
“Do you care to introduce yourself?” the boy asks as they walk down a hallway with pictures of competition winners and championship titles hung up on the walls. Izuku observes with wide eyes the pictures of people in fancy dress, their mouth pulled into wide smiles and medals hanging from their necks.
For once, Izuku doesn’t stutter as he answers, “Midoriya Izuku.”
“Todoroki Shouto,” he says back, and then he steps through the doorway to the front room with Izuku at his side.
When they reach the front desk, a woman with white hair that Izuku recognizes from some of the pictures in the hallway brightens up, “Shouto, I’ve been looking for you!” she says, and Izuku lets his eyes wander to the people that stand around this front room and chat, awaiting the lesson. “Who do you have here?” she asks Todoroki, fingers steepled in front of her as she looks curiously at Izuku.
“I’m Midoriya Izuku!” Izuku introduces himself with a bow, and the woman smiles at him.
“He came in through the back,” Todoroki states, and Izuku feels his face begin to heat from embarrassment again.
“Oh, I keep forgetting to put a sign on the back door,” she says with a chuckle, “That happens more than you’d think!”
Izuku lets out a sigh of relief. This woman seems very kind.
Todoroki wanders away as the woman—she introduces herself as Todoroki’s mother, and after she says so, the resemblance is striking—helps to sign Izuku up for the lesson and accepts his payment.
It’s only another couple of minutes before everyone begins to siphon from the front room and into the dance studio, though Izuku notes that the next closest person in age to him here for the lesson is probably in their mid-twenties.
Todoroki’s mother leads the group for stretches once they’re all situated, her son demonstrating beside her, movements easy. Izuku follows their lead, stretching his arms behind his head and then bending to touch his toes.
After stretches are over, she calls out, “Okay, everyone, let’s all find partners for our first exercise.”
Izuku freezes, watching with wide eyes as the other people pair up easily while he stands alone. He doesn’t know how comfortable he would be dancing with a complete stranger, let alone one that’s upwards of ten years older than him, but that would still be more preferable than no partner at all. And yet, once everyone’s all paired up, Izuku still stands by his lonesome, blush high on his cheeks. (He wonders if he’ll ever be able to dispel this blush today, or if it’s a permanent addition to his face now.)
And suddenly, Izuku’s spared from his partnerless embarrassment when Todoroki comes up beside him, gingerly taking a hold on his forearm and pulling him to the front of the room. Here, he’s met with a new kind of embarrassment, wide eyes blinking at all the people in the room that now stare at him.
“Ah, Shouto and Izuku-kun will demonstrate! That’s perfect,” Todoroki’s mother comments with a grin, her hands clapped together in front of her. “We’ll first be learning the box step, which is a basic step sequence for the waltz,” she says, and Todoroki clasps Izuku’s right hands in his left while also looping his right arm around Izuku’s torso. Fleetingly, Izuku’s worried that his palm feels sweaty against Todoroki’s, but there’s nothing he could do about it now.
The blush feels absolutely permanent as Izuku sets his left hand on Todoroki’s shoulder and Todoroki presses his hand flat against Izuku’s back. “Fix your posture,” he mumbles lowly, and Izuku hurriedly stands rod-straight.
“Now, this is Izuku-kun’s first lesson, too, so don’t judge him harshly,” Todoroki’s mother notes, and the people watching chuckle at how Todoroki tugs Izuku to take a step closer to him.
Izuku’s heart hammers in his ribcage, and he hardly registers that Todoroki’s mother is speaking again because he’s too busy looking up at Todoroki, at how Todoroki rolls his shoulders and murmurs for Izuku to loosen up, don’t be so nervous.
Which—okay, this is not how Izuku expected this day to go. He’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this. He swallows thickly, tosses a glance back to the other people and how Todoroki’s mother helps them get into the right positioning as Izuku and Todoroki stand as their models.
Izuku’s busy staring at Todoroki’s throat—at his Adam’s apple, and how it bobs every now and again—and regulating his heartbeat while Todoroki’s mother explains the box step, so when Todoroki actually starts to move in demonstration, his hand pulling at Izuku’s and his left foot stepping forwards, Izuku has no clue what he’s supposed to do.
His instincts just tell him to follow Todoroki’s lead, so he does his best to mimic his movements but opposite, so that they move together. It’s awkward and forced on Izuku’s part, but he’s always prided himself in being a quick learner, so they’re at least moving in time with each other. Their shoes click on the floor in a one, two, three pattern.
Once they complete two full box steps, they pull apart, the crowd lightly applauding them and Todoroki’s mother saying, “Very nice, Izuku-kun!” Izuku smiles crookedly at the praise, lifting a hand to scratch at the back of his neck.
Izuku hardly has a moment to recover before Todoroki is holding out his hand again, ready to start again so that the other people dancing can look over and see if they’re on the right track. Izuku sucks in a breath before setting his hand in Todoroki’s and letting him wrap his arm around his torso another time.
The box step goes more smoothly the second time than the first, Izuku not having been caught off guard. Right, left, together—Izuku falls into a one, two, three rhythm as he follows Todoroki’s lead. He actually forgets where he is for a moment, who he’s with, since he’s so concentrated on his steps, his head angled downwards as he watches their feet.
That’s until Todoroki says, “Try without looking.”
Izuku looks up with wide eyes, meeting Todoroki’s intense gaze. He tries to hold eye-contact, but he steps on Todoroki’s foot after only a moment and then stammers out an apology, his hand still resting on Todoroki’s shoulder.
“It’s fine,” Todoroki replies, facial expression unchanged. “Just try again.”
Swallowing thickly, Izuku holds Todoroki’s gaze and tries instead to feel how his feet should move, instead of seeing.
“You’re stiff,” Todoroki comments.
“I’m trying,” Izuku blurts back, and this causes a chuckle to bubble from Todoroki’s mouth. Izuku’s lips part and his words catch in his throat. “...Sorry,” he says eventually, breathy.
“It’s fine,” Todoroki says again, and then he slips his hand from Izuku’s to pat gently on the top of Izuku’s shoulder. “Try to relax your shoulders,” he suggests, smoothing his hand against Izuku’s shoulder and then down his bicep before drawing his hand away.
Izuku drops his shoulders, lets out a deep breath.
“Much better,” Todoroki comments, a hint of a smile on his lips as he takes ahold of Izuku’s hand again, and they fall back into the three-beat rhythm.
—
The next time Izuku stumbles into the dance studio three days later, he carries a vase of flowers and a card from his grandmother. She’d been ecstatic at Izuku’s progress after only one lesson, and she’d danced with him in the kitchen with a bright smile on her face that Izuku couldn’t help but reciprocate.
Todoroki sits behind the front desk as Izuku walks in, his cheek leaning on his hand as he reads something that sits on the desk. When the bell above the door jingles, Todoroki looks up to be met by Izuku and a bouquet.
“Uh—” Izuku starts, stops. “Hi, Todoroki-kun. These are from my grandma,” he explains, approaching the desk and setting the flowers on it. Todoroki eyes them, lifts a finger to touch one of the petals. “She thought I should bring them in as a thank-you.”
“That’s very nice of her,” Todoroki replies, lifting his gaze from the flowers and to Izuku.
Izuku hands him the card. “And this,” he says. “My grandma used to be really involved in ballroom dancing, so she’s very passionate about this…” he trails, sheepish smile painting his face. “I don’t mind learning and it makes her happy, so… could I sign up for another lesson?”
He’s careful not to mention that he doesn’t mind learning because he can’t stop thinking about Todoroki’s hand heavy on his back, Todoroki’s Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, Todoroki… Izuku never really thought of himself as one to develop crushes quickly, but the blush that paints his cheeks as Todoroki hands him a schedule is a tell-tale sign that this is definitely a crush. He finds no use in denying it.
And so, Izuku schedules his next lesson for that Saturday.
“Will you be there, Todoroki-kun?” Izuku inquires, fingers fiddling together nervously before him.
“Yeah,” Todoroki replies, corners of his mouth just barely quirking upwards. “I’ll be there.”