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When Uraraka said there was going to be a storm this morning, Izuku really should have listened to her. He shouldn’t have just looked out his window and thought, “Oh, it’s not raining now so it’s not going to rain when I walk all the way across campus to get food before my choir rehearsal”.
Because it is definitely raining when he’s walking all the way across campus to get food before his choir rehearsal. It is also very windy. And cold. He suspects a thunderstorm is on its way.
He can already hear Aoyama, his well-intentioned but eccentric roommate, telling him “You should have brought an umbrella, mon ami!”
He does have a raincoat, which he supposes is better than an umbrella in the wind, but it doesn’t really work either. His bag is already soaked, just like his shoes, and he can’t go back and change now or he’s going to be late.
It’s just one of those days.
He can feel his socks getting increasingly wetter as he walks past building after building. It’s fairly early, just a little before nine on a Friday, and there aren’t very many other people out. The people who can stomach early classes are probably already in them, and everyone else is barely awake, if they're awake at all. Plus, it’s raining. That puts a downer on an otherwise nice walk.
Putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he watches two tiny brown birds land on the roof of the music building, and he can't help but smile when they start chirping at each other.
As he gets closer, though, something else drowns the birds out; low notes that hum under the steady patter of rain, a melody not quite high enough to soar above it. He hears fast runs, clearer with every step he takes, and before long he's stopped to listen.
Someone’s playing the piano in one of the second-floor practice rooms, a piece that burns with intensity coming from the keys. Unison lines fit right into place while fast glissandos fall down the keyboard like an avalanche, the pianist jumping between extreme dynamic levels with ease. The fortes boom, the pianos float, everything else fits right in between. It sounds regal, like something played for the king in a fantasy castle, and it hooks itself to Izuku’s brain and pulls him closer until he has to stop himself from trying to jump up to the second floor to match a face to the music.
It's beautiful, though, anonymous or not. He only wishes he could tell them.
“Deku-kun?”
Izuku doesn’t realize just how close he is to the window until he hears Uraraka’s voice, which makes him shriek and jump back at least a foot as he tries to think of an excuse. In what instance would staring into a practice room window not be creepy? He’s got nothing.
“What are you doing?” Uraraka asks. She holds her umbrella up to cover both of them, and Izuku only realizes then just how soaked he is.
“I-I was just listening to whoever’s practicing in there!” Izuku’s eyes fly over to the window to avoid meeting Uraraka’s, and thank goodness there’s still sound coming from the window. “It’s not as weird as you think, I swear-”
“It’s okay!” Uraraka laughs, following Izuku’s gaze to the window. “It sounds nice, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with stopping to listen.”
“Okay, good.” Izuku sighs with relief. The piece is just ending, with three grand chords that seem to echo across campus. “Breakfast?”
With a dissonant crash of sound, the pianist immediately lets their head fall onto the keys. Izuku knows it when he hears it, but he doesn’t know why it’s there to begin with. It sounded perfect, what could make them that frustrated?
Uraraka giggles. “Sure.”
They walk together as the opening notes from the pianist’s next selection fade out into the distance. It sounds calm, soft and warm and tender, the opposite of what they were just playing, and the contrast makes him want to stay back and listen a little longer.
He mentally slaps himself in the face. He doesn’t have time for that.
The melody still lingers in his ears even when he has a few slices of toast with jam and an assortment of berries on his plate, sitting at a table with Uraraka in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. There aren’t very many people in the building at all this early, but they’ve been coming to this spot for months now and it would be strange to give it up.
“Did you hear about Ojiro-kun?” Uraraka asks.
“What about him?” Izuku asks back between bites.
Uraraka leans in close, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Tsuyu-chan told me he broke his arm yesterday,” she says, “So he’s out for the rest of the month at least and we have to find a new accompanist.”
Izuku blinks. “Yamada-sensei has to know someone, right?”
“Yeah, but the concert’s in two weeks.” Uraraka frowns. “Does he know anyone who can get all the music performance ready by then?”
She has a point.
“Well.” Uraraka’s frown tilts into a smirk. “I bet whoever was in that practice room is still there, want to go ask them? They seemed pretty good.”
“Oh my god.” Izuku can feel his face turning bright red. “Can you just forget that ever happened?”
Uraraka laughs. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Izuku rolls his eyes, finishing off the last of his toast. He’ll save the fruit for later, when he’s hungrier. Human beings aren’t meant to eat substantial meals this early.
They walk back to the music building, thankfully entering on the other side so Uraraka can’t make fun of Izuku anymore. He can’t help wondering if the pianist is still practicing, though, conjuring up an entirely different feeling from the same set of eighty-eight keys.
He hangs his coat up on the rack next to the door and wipes his shoes on the mat so he doesn’t slip on the wood floor before taking his seat right in the middle of the room. It’s not like wiping his shoes off helps any, though. His socks are soaked and his feet are freezing.
“Nasty out there, huh?” Sero asks in lieu of a greeting.
“Yeah, really.” Izuku chuckles. His hair is probably plastered to his head by now. “At least you look like you had an umbrella.”
“Sucks.” Sero shrugs. “It’s supposed to clear up by the time we’re out of here.”
“That’s good.”
A soon as the last few people shuffle in, all in similar states of wet, Yamada starts the rehearsal with all the typical warm-ups that seem to come for the low end of Izuku’s vocal range personally. It’s not like he can help having one of the highest voices in the tenor section.
“We’ve got a situation,” Yamada says, putting one foot on his stool in that way he always does when he wants to stay cool when talking about something serious. “If you haven’t heard the news yet, Ojiro has a broken arm, which means he’s out of commission for the concert.” He clicks his tongue. “Shame he couldn’t have broken his left leg instead, huh?”
The room is silent for a while, one question on everyone’s minds that no one wants to ask.
“So what are we going to do?” Kirishima asks.
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.” Yamada grins. It looks painful. “I’ve asked around and no one can make it, so if you know any good pianists, tell them to talk to me ay-ess-ay-pee.”
Izuku tries to ignore the way Uraraka looks at him.
Sero raises his hand. “I might know a guy.”
“Are they good?” Yamada asks.
Sero grins. “He’s really good, it’s kind of scary.”
“Then get him here on by any means necessary,” Yamada says, “Bribe him if you have to, tie him up and carry him here over your shoulder if you have to. Got it?”
Sero nods. “I’ll try.”
“Perfect. Hopefully that’s settled.” Yamada lets out a breath. “I’ll step in for now, but just warning you, my piano experience is very limited.”
Everyone laughs, wonder and curiosity loud and clear underneath.
When Izuku wakes up on Tuesday, he thinks it’s Monday and wonders why he’s waking up so early when his first class isn’t until eleven. But no, Monday was yesterday. Today is Tuesday. Today is rehearsal.
Today is when Sero’s mystery friend finally makes himself known. Hopefully.
It’s chilly today, but only cold enough to warrant bringing a hoodie and not an actual coat. At least it isn’t raining. The walk is a lot more pleasant that way.
There are actually a few people outside this morning, going for a run or reading out on the lawn under a tree. The sun is breaking through the clouds, and the chirping of birds and the quiet buzz of conversation is music to Izuku’s ears as he walks past the music building.
He actually got breakfast before he left. Today is the day when Midoriya Izuku is on top of it.
There aren’t any new faces when he walks into the choir room. Not yet. He takes his seat and keeps his eyes on the door, waiting.
“I think I’ve seen this guy on Sero’s story sometimes,” Uraraka says, sitting down in Sero’s seat until he gets there like she owns it, “He seems cute.”
“Like, ‘I’d date him’ cute or ‘He’s like a tiny puppy’ cute?” Izuku asks.
“I don’t know...” Uraraka scrunches up her eyebrows for a second. “Both?”
“Good to know-”
“There you are!” Yamada points right at Sero as he walks into the room. “I thought you weren’t going to make it!”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Sero grins.
Izuku doesn’t notice. Because all his attention is focused on the person behind him.
“Wanna introduce your friend there?” Yamada asks.
“Right!”
In Izuku’s humble opinion, this guy doesn't need an introduction because being the most beautiful person flippin’ ever is introduction enough. His mismatched eyes are cool and mesmerizing, and his hair’s split red and white down the middle but it looks good just like the rest of his beautiful face and how does he make a black t-shirt and jeans look that good? Maybe it's the hoodie. Or the beanie. Or-
“Hello?” Uraraka giggles. “Deku-kun, you there?”
“Yes!” Izuku can feel his cheeks heating up.
He's so screwed.
“This is Todoroki Shouto. He's my roommate.” Sero chuckles. “He's also half-asleep, so if any disasters happen from here on in, that's why.”
Todoroki sure doesn't look half-asleep.
After a round of warm-ups so quick it doesn't feel like anyone’s warmed up at all, Yamada hands Todoroki a thick stack of music and gestures to the piano. “Sorry for the sight-reading,” he says, “As long as you don't completely botch the chords, it's a success.”
Todoroki nods and sits down at the piano before standing up again to move the bench back. He stretches his arms in front of him, behind him, up to the ceiling, and wiggles his fingers before placing them on the keys.
“Concert order!” Yamada calls, putting his hands up for the cue.
The piano part for the first piece is just a simple boom-chuck-chuck waltz, but according to Ojiro, it’s a lot harder than it seems, with big jumps across the piano and the always-lofty goal of being heard above however many voices are singing at the same time. Add that to the tendency of the group to rush and you get a recipe for disaster.
But it’s not a disaster this time, because Todoroki’s playing it, and even though he’s sightreading - sightreading ! Izuku wouldn’t be able to play something like this after three months of practice, even after passing his piano proficiency test - Todoroki has a handle on it. And he looks like it, too, completely calm and collected even in the face of complicated chords he’s never played before.
Maybe he’s making a ton of mistakes and Izuku just doesn’t notice because he’s cute. Really cute.
Izuku misses his entrance because he’s staring. He thinks Sero notices. He hopes Todoroki doesn't. Thank goodness everyone’s in unison, Izuku likes having that crutch before he inevitably messes up his solo later.
It doesn't help that he's in perfect position to see both Todoroki’s face and his fingers as he plays. He touches the keys delicately, like they're flower petals, making a sound that's loud enough to travel across the room but remains elegant and refined. Everything about his playing is methodical, gears turning in his head as he moves his fingers from place to place with mind-numbing agility.
Izuku keeps imagining him onstage in a tux playing something a lot more flashy, which doesn't help his singing at all. Proper breath support is hard when you’re not entirely sure how to breathe in the first place.
By the time the piece is over, Izuku has absolutely no idea how words work and he can’t tell if he was singing the right words or absolute gibberish. Thankfully, in this piece, there isn’t much of a difference.
But that difference is going to be quite the problem if he doesn’t get his shit together and keeps staring at Todoroki the whole time. After all, Todoroki’s practically the sun and he’s going to make Izuku go blind if he looks right at him.
“Everything okay, Midoriya?” Sero asks.
“Yeah!” Izuku tries to hide how red his cheeks are, but since Sero isn’t smirking like Uraraka undoubtedly would be if she was in his place, he thinks he’s in the clear. “I guess it’s just one of those days, you know?”
“Tongue twisters always help me,” Kaminari chimes in, “You know the classic, ‘I am not a pheasant plucker...’”
“‘I’m a pleasant fucker’s son- shit! ’” Sero whistles through his teeth. “It’s nine in the morning, I walked right into that!”
“I suppose we should warm up our jaws when it’s freezing out, shouldn’t we?” Yamada grins. “Three times through!”
“‘I am not a pheasant plucker, I’m a pheasant plucker’s son’,” Izuku recites along with everyone else, thankful for a distraction, “‘And I’ll keep on plucking pheasants ‘till the pheasant plucking’s done.’”
Todoroki joins in the second time around, and Izuku can’t help but giggle when he inevitably says the wrong word. He thinks Todoroki hears him.
Well, shit.
“Midoriya, there you are!”
Izuku’s met with a grin from Yamada as he walks into rehearsal on Friday, and he thinks he’s going to be scolded for being two minutes late. It isn’t his fault, he swears there was trouble with the showers-
“I have a very important job for you today,” Yamada says, almost slyly, “You remember how much time it took to sync up the rubato in your solo with Ojiro, right?”
“...Yeah?” Izuku has a feeling about where this is going, but he’s not sure if he wants that or not.
“I’m giving you fifteen minutes while everyone else goes into sectionals after we warm up.” Yamada glances over to the piano. “If you need more than that, I’m sure you and Todoroki can arrange something.”
Izuku has no idea whether he wants to “arrange something” with Todoroki or keep this to fifteen minutes. If it takes longer, he’ll definitely explode, but maybe that’s worth it? After all, he’s not going to get a chance to actually be alone with Todoroki any other way.
“Okay.” He bobs his head up and down in a nod before taking his seat in the middle of the tenor section. There's no way this can end well, his voice is going to crack or he’ll faint or-
“Hello, Earth to Midoriya!” Kaminari taps Izuku’s shoulder with a grin.
“Yeah?” Izuku mentally curses himself for getting so worked up, he's just going to be working alone with the guy he might have a stupid crush on, no big deal.
“What's up?” Kaminari asks, “You're more jittery than usual.”
“Oh!” Izuku chuckles. “I'm just worried about the solo. You know.”
“When has that not sounded good?”
Izuku can think of a lot of times it hasn't sounded good, but he doesn't think that's the answer Kaminari’s looking for, so he doesn't say anything.
“Exactly, it has never not sounded good,” Kaminari says, “If I didn't know you better, I wouldn't even think you were nervous about it.”
“Oh.” Izuku looks down to hide the blush spreading across his entire body because Todoroki’s definitely going to know he's nervous. “Th-thanks.”
“Don't mention it!”
They do the same warm-ups they always do, scales and arpeggios and breath support and all the rest, and Izuku’s convinced his voice is going to give out on him any second because his luck is just that bad. So he sings quieter than everyone else, using his last chance to blend in before the storm hits.
And as he keeps his voice small, he makes the grave mistake of looking at the storm himself.
Todoroki’s walked in late, awkwardly standing a little ways away from the piano as Yamada gives the notes for warmups. He’s clearly just woken up, if the sleepy look in his eyes is any indication, and it’s even more evident when he tries to put a hand up to hide a yawn, only succeeding halfway through. He looks down at his music, goes through the pile, and looks back up. Yawns again.
Cute , Izuku thinks.
He flushes scarlet again.
“Okay!” Yamada stands up with a bounce in his step. “Midoriya, you can use the upright in my office.”
“Right!” Was Izuku too loud? Probably.
Yamada whispers something to Todoroki, who nods before meeting Izuku’s eyes.
Don’t faint don’t faint don’t faint-
“O-okay.” Izuku stands up, motions robotic as he walks through the sea of chairs and tries not to look back at Todoroki until he’s inside the office. He fails.
The upright is up on a cart, the same way it was in the practice rooms back in high school. Hopefully this one’s at least a little more in tune. Izuku’s more concerned about the fact that Yamada considers a spinny, cushioned office chair a suitable replacement for a piano bench. For Todoroki’s sake, of course.
“Um, excuse me?” Todoroki asks, still standing next to the door.
“Crap, sorry, did you ask me something?” Izuku can feel himself melting into the floor, so much for a good start.
“I didn't get your name,” Todoroki says.
Oh. This shouldn't be too hard. Except it is . “My name’s Midoriya Izuku, and you're Todoroki, right?” Izuku can already feel his mouth starting to run, abort abort abort - “You sounded good last rehearsal, not like I was listening to you specifically or anything because I still haven't memorized the pieces all the way but your sightreading is really solid, and, uh-” He resigns himself to a nervous grin. “...Yeah.”
“Thank you...?” Todoroki narrows his eyes a little.
Way to go, Izuku, now he thinks you're weird .
“Sorry,” Izuku says, bumping the apology count for this conversation up to two, “This stuff is always hard to work out.”
“I’ve worked with violinists, you might want to revise your definition of hard,” Todoroki says, half under his breath.
Izuku snorts before he can stop himself, he can taste the salt from here . “What?”
“Never mind.”
“No!” Izuku grins, glad that Todoroki trusts him enough to complain in the first place. “What’s wrong with violinists?”
“Nothing.” Todoroki frowns. “Some of them are just too stuck-up to work with people.”
“Ooh.” Izuku grabs a music stand and pulls it out into the middle of the room. “Well, I don’t think I’m that bad.”
“I highly doubt you’re even close.” Todoroki sits down in the chair and spins around to face the piano. “This might not sound good.”
“That’s fine-wait.” Izuku blinks. “You don’t want to go over where I’m going to slow down or anything?”
Todoroki pauses for a second. “No one ever asks me that.”
“Really?” What kind of accompanying does Todoroki do ? “Would you rather talk it through?”
“No, that would just waste time.” Todoroki runs his fingers over the keys. “I’ll follow you.”
“O-oh, okay!” Izuku’s kind of glad, honestly. Talking it through means squeaking more. Not like singing it through is any better.
Todoroki plays the first half-measure or so of the intro before turning around again. “Is that the right tempo?”
“What?” Izuku totally wasn’t staring at Todoroki’s hair, nope, no way. “Oh, yeah, that’s fine.”
For the love of all that is holy, Izuku, get a grip!
Todoroki starts playing again, each keystroke distinct yet blending in with the rest. The piece starts slow, melancholy, and Izuku doesn’t know if his singing is going to be able to keep up. All he can do is try.
He silently breathes in before singing his first note, the E flat above middle C. Even as he reads the lyrics on the page, they come to his memory just as quickly, weeks of practice coming to the forefront of his mind right when he needs them.
When he slows down at the end of the first measure, he doesn’t expect Todoroki to follow him note for note, but he does . It almost makes him lose count of beats and rhythms and throw his pitch to the wind because how is someone this talented working with someone like him? He’s not even that good, he doesn’t even know why he has this solo in the first place, and how has his voice not cracked yet -
And suddenly, it’s over. The solo’s over, Todoroki managed to catch all the ups and downs, even as Izuku panicked and made them even less obvious than they already were.
Is he working with some kind of musical genius?
Is he crushing on some kind of musical genius?
“That sounded good,” Todoroki says.
“Yeah.” Izuku can barely catch his breath. “It did.”
“So.” Uraraka looks over the rim of her glass with an orange juice mustache on her lip. “What were you doing with Todoroki-kun this morning?”
“Oh.” Izuku tries not to relapse into his trademark nervous giggle, but that’s exactly what he does. Because old habits die hard and he’s predictable. “We were just going over my solo.”
“You have a solo?” Iida asks.
Uraraka nods. “He sounds really good on it!”
“Of course, I wouldn’t doubt that for a second.”
“Guys!” Izuku looks down at his lap to hide the blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. “I don’t even have it memorized-”
“And the concert’s in two weeks, you have time!” Uraraka narrows her eyes with a smirk. “You didn’t tell me how it went this morning.”
“It went okay,” Izuku says, well-aware that if he lets any of the crush part slip, he won’t hear the end of it for weeks, “He has a lot of accompanying experience, so we barely had to talk about anything. It’s like he can read people’s minds or something.”
“And he’s cute.”
“And he’s cute-hey!” Izuku frowns. “You baited me into that!”
“So you do think he’s cute.”
“What?” Oh, Izuku is in for it now. “No, I don’t, he’s just-”
Uraraka rests her elbows on the table and folds her hands under her chin. “You like him.”
“No, I don’t!”
“You liiiiiike him!”
Izuku has no idea whether more blood can flow to his face at this point. “Iida-kun, tell her I don’t!”
“Judging by your reaction, I’m not entirely sure that she's wrong,” Iida says.
Izuku pouts. “You’re both horrible.”
“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us.” Uraraka smiles. “Right, Iida-kun?”
“Right!”
Izuku sighs. Only a subject change can save him now, and even that could backfire on him. “Iida-kun, your concert’s tomorrow, right?”
“Yes!” Iida raises an eyebrow. “Are you thinking of coming?”
“I'm going to try!” Izuku smiles. “What are you guys playing?”
“Ooh.” Izuku can't say that a tune automatically comes to mind, because he can very rarely match orchestral melodies to their titles, but he generally likes Tchaikovsky.
“Dang, I completely forgot about that!” Uraraka frowns. “I’m working tomorrow night.”
“There's always next time,” Iida says, “We do have a lot of concerts.”
“Yeah, I'll definitely try to make it soon!” Uraraka stands up. “I need to hit the library, wanna come with?”
“Sure.” Izuku stands up to drop his lunch tray off before walking back out into the drizzle, ducking under Iida’s huge umbrella.
Does he need anything at the library? He doesn't think so. He's tutoring someone there later, but that's later.
“Do you guys hear that?” Iida asks as they're walking by the music building.
Uraraka snorts. “Looks like Deku-kun’s mystery piano player is back.”
“What?” Izuku strains his ears to hear over the people talking in front of them, but he hears it: the distinct sound of the piano from somewhere on the second floor.
This piece is calmer than the last, familiar and warm. It's slow and just as beautiful, but delicate and soft. The notes float through the window like leaves blowing in the wind, without a care in the world. The tempo pushes and pulls, seeming to freeze for just a second when tension is highest.
“I know that piece,” Iida says, “It's Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude.”
“Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude,” Izuku repeats absentmindedly. For some reason, he imagines Todoroki sitting at the piano, barely touching the keys but pulling more feeling out of them than anyone could ever expect.
But that’s ridiculous, right?
He shakes it off, ridiculous or not, because he’s done enough thinking about Todoroki for one day. And he has class soon.
Maybe Uraraka’s right after all.
Izuku’s been waiting in the ticket line for five minutes before he realizes that this is the first time he’s gone to an orchestra concert without Uraraka there with him. They’ve always gone together, taking advantage of the fact that all the seats in the student ticket bloc are in front of the cello section so they can see Iida perfectly.
He isn’t used to being alone.
He buys his ticket with a smile and walks past the sea of people in the lobby into the concert hall, picking up a program on his way in. His seat is in the eighth row, just close enough to the stage to hear everything perfectly but not too close for him to have to crane his head to see. He’s on the aisle, and so far, the seat next to him is empty.
They’re starting the program off with Waldteufel’s Skater’s Waltz, which is a name Izuku doesn’t quite recognize but thinks he’d know if he heard it, and then going into the Tchaikovsky. According to Iida, it’s one of the best selections they’ve had all year, and Izuku’s excited for it.
“Sorry, could I get past you?” Someone asks.
“Oh, yeah, sorry!” Izuku quickly shoots up to his feet and finds himself looking into a very familiar pair of mismatched eyes. “Shit,” he whispers.
“I’m sorry?” Todoroki tilts his head to the side.
“Nonono, sorry, that wasn’t about you!” Izuku is very, very screwed. “What seat do you have?”
“I think I have the seat next to you,” Todoroki says, “H2?”
“Oh!” Izuku chuckles. “Yeah, that is the seat next to me. Funny, huh?” He steps out to let Todoroki through before sitting down again and trying to get himself to breathe because what are the chances that out of all the seats in this auditorium, his crush gets the one right next to him?
It’s not unwelcome, obviously, it’s just... unexpected. That’s it.
“So do you come to these things a lot?” Izuku asks, “My friend plays cello, so that’s why I’m here.”
“Mm.” Todoroki looks up at the stage. “I have a friend who plays violin.”
“That’s cool.” Izuku follows his gaze and looks at the musicians walking out onstage and warming up. “What’s their name?”
“Her name’s Yaoyorozu, she sits second chair first violin.”
“Oh.” Izuku’s definitely heard that name before, or at least seen it in a program. Of course he has, she’s in orchestra. But he doesn’t know what specific instance he’s thinking of until it hits him. “Did she play a concerto last concert?”
“The Tchaikovsky, yeah.”
“ That’s where I know her from.” Izuku grins. “She did a really good job.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you said that,” Todoroki says.
“Are there any piano concertos you like?” Izuku asks. He doesn’t know any, but he likes the thought of Todoroki playing one.
“Plenty.” Todoroki frowns. “I’m preparing for a concerto competition right now, actually.”
“...Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?”
“Yeah, it’s just... complicated.” Todoroki exhales softly as his eyes narrow. “My father’s supposed to be one of the best concert pianists in the country, and he refuses to shut up about how he won the same competition when he was my age with the Beethoven Emperor Concerto, so he’s making me enter with it.”
“And you don’t want to?” Izuku doesn’t know what to say; he’s never heard Todoroki talk this much and he really doesn’t want to interrupt.
Todoroki chuckles dryly. “I’d play literally anything else.”
“But how would he make you enter with it?” Izuku asks, “I mean, your teacher helps you choose that kind of thing, right?”
“Not when they know each other.” Todoroki scowls. “My teacher thinks it’s a great idea.”
“Oh.” Izuku frowns. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Todoroki says, “I’ve been trying to learn something else on my own to enter with instead.”
“That has to be hard.” That’s an understatement. Izuku doesn’t think he’d be able to learn anything without some kind of guidance, especially if he has to keep it a secret.
“It is.” A corner of Todoroki’s mouth quirks up into a lopsided smile. “But it’ll be worth it, I think.”
“Yeah...”
Neither of them say anything after that, but the quiet that follows isn’t awkward. People are talking all around them, people onstage are playing selections from tonight’s program, it’s anything but silent.
“Are French horns just called ‘horns’ in French?” Someone asks from the row behind them.
“Are Wagner horns just called ‘horns’ if they’re shoved up Wagner’s ass?” Someone else counters.
Todoroki snorts. It’s barely noticeable, but he definitely does.
Before Izuku can say anything back, or even think about how cute that was, the lights start to dim as the concertmaster walks out on stage. He stands up at the front of the stage and faces the orchestra as everyone tunes to the principal oboe before the concertmaster snakes through rows of violins to the podium. Every orchestra concert starts that way, as deeply entrenched in tradition as it is, but this time is different, if the warm feeling on Izuku’s right is any indication.
Izuku spots Iida in the cello section with a look of intense concentration on his face and can’t help but smile.
The conductor holds his baton up and instruments are brought up into playing position. For a second, everything is silent. Then the baton lifts up, and down.
The piece begins with a slow but noble horn solo, piercing through the quiet rustling as the audience settles into their seats for a night of music and magic. The instruments are segmented as they find their places for the rest of the song, with the flute and piccolo on a playful run that’s echoed by two violins a second later. Every gap in sound feels like much longer than the simple beat or two it actually occupies.
The violins play a longer run that seems to swirl like snowflakes during a storm, and after a long trill of the violins and the woodwinds, the rest of the orchestra comes in all at once on a hit that almost makes Izuku jump.
Oh. Izuku recognizes the melody now.
He finds himself swaying to the beat once the actual waltz starts, the strong downbeats and light offbeats guiding him along. It brings a hint of a smile to his face, and he doesn’t quite know why, but with music, he’s come to accept it as some supernatural force that he can only ever try to understand.
He understands why it’s called the Skater’s Waltz now. Whenever he blinks, he sees a pond on the back of his eyelids, frozen over and surrounded by snow early in the morning. Someone glides over the ice, around the pond again and again, spinning in jumps that make them look like they’re flying for just a few seconds.
Izuku sees a flash of red and white and his eyes snap open again.
Even as he tries to block that part out of his head, his eyes flick over to look at Todoroki anyway, if only for a split second at a time. Luckily, Todoroki’s looking up at the stage and it doesn’t look like he’ll be distracted by anything anytime soon.
But maybe that’s not a good thing after all, because his eyes are sparkling with the reflection from the stage lights and the look on his face can only be described as open , filled with childlike wonder. He barely nods in time with every downbeat, mesmerized by the music.
Izuku imagines himself on the makeshift rink the next chance he gets and falls flat on his face.
Izuku has the main motif from the Tchaikovsky stuck in his head when he wakes up on Monday morning, and it stays right there as he gets dressed and walks out the door to his eleven o’clock theory class. He hums whatever he can remember from the fourth movement to himself, keeping his steps in time when he gets to the fast part.
He almost misses the piano in the background.
The piece is soft again, almost still between notes in a way that makes the rest of the world fade away. Every phrase is the same way: a fast arpeggio that drops off at its peak, fades out as the melody takes over with only a few notes to its name before another arpeggio. There's a sense of anticipation in every note, wanting to know what happens next even when the rhythms get slower.
Izuku stops walking without realizing it, entranced by the music once again.
The piece sounds familiar to him somehow, even though he doesn't know what it is. He's heard the melody before, maybe in a movie or on the radio. The fact that he doesn't know makes it all the more magical.
The arpeggios stop, and he knows the end of the piece is coming. Simple rhythms, chords that have to resolve somewhere, even more stillness .
By the time the piece ends, it's so soft he can barely hear it. The only way he could possibly know where the final release falls is a vague feeling in the air, and yet he decides to trust it. Time starts moving again, slowly but surely, but he keeps his eyes on the window, eager to hear what comes next.
The pianist doesn't play anything else.
Izuku starts walking again. It almost feels like he's floating.
The white noise of conversation grounds him as he pushes open the door to the music building, weaving through the people standing and talking to each other in the hallways as he tries to get to his destination upstairs. The sun shines in through the windows in the stairway, almost blinding him once it hits him at the right angle-
He doesn't notice the other person coming around the corner at the landing until they've already crashed into each other and he's on the ground.
“Midoriya?”
He recognizes that voice, how the hell does this keep happening?
Izuku takes the hand held out to him in the sunlight and stands up, only to look into Todoroki’s concerned eyes. He's wearing a really cute sweater today, wine red in a way that shouldn't go with his hair at all but somehow does and-
Izuku is holding his hand. Izuku is holding his hand .
“S-sorry about that!” He squeaks out, pulling his hand back to his side. “I should have seen you coming!”
Todoroki’s hand hovers there for a second in hesitation before he does the same. “No, I knocked you over, I should be the one apologizing.”
“It's fine.” Izuku offers up a nervous grin. “So, how did you like the concert?”
“I enjoyed it,” Todoroki says, “The program for their next concert is supposed to be even better than this one, though.”
“Oh, really?” Izuku asks. Iida didn't say anything about that. “What is it?”
“ La Mer .” Todoroki’s eyes light up at the title.
“Never heard of it,” Izuku says. He feels like he should know what it is, but oh well. It's too late now.
“It's beautiful.” Todoroki chuckles in a way that makes Izuku’s heart melt just a little. “Of course it is, it's Debussy.”
“Do you like Debussy?”
Todoroki nods. “I'm playing one of his piano works for my next recital.”
Izuku hates that he doesn't know a lot of Debussy, but he can always find out. “Y-you don't mind if I come, do you?”
Todoroki blinks before he abruptly glances out the window. “...It's not for a few months, but I don't see why not.”
“Okay.” Izuku smiles, trying to hide the blush blooming on his face. “What else are you playing?” Not like it’s anything he would know.
“Um...” Todoroki’s brows furrow in thought. “Brahms Piano Sonata No. 3, Rachmaninoff’s Moment Musicaux No. 4, I haven’t decided if I want to do this one Chopin prelude or not...”
Yep. Izuku hasn’t heard of any of those. “Do you like them?”
“They’re difficult, but I’d say yes,” Todoroki says.
“That’ll make it that much better when you finally get them, though, right?” Izuku asks.
“...Yes.” Todoroki nods, a hint of a smile lighting up his face enough to blind Izuku all over again. “That’s a good way of thinking about it.”
Izuku doesn’t know if he can continue this conversation without melting into a puddle onto the floor. Even though he really wants to.
“W-well, I have to get to class, b-but I'll see you tomorrow!” He stammers out.
“Tomorrow...?”
“Rehearsal.”
“Right.” Todoroki turns the corner and starts walking down the stairs. “It was nice talking with you.”
“You, too! Good luck practicing!”
Izuku jogs the rest of the way up, which really doesn't help his heart rate return to anything normal, but it at least gives him an excuse for being red in the face. His watch - he doesn't own a watch - was fast, he thought he was late to class when he was actually two minutes early and ran up the stairs because of it, and now he's walking into class trying to catch his breath from the run. Perfect alibi.
Just as he sits down and looks up at the clock, the name of the piece from earlier comes to him as if by magic:
Clair de lune, by Claude Debussy.
The last two choir rehearsals before the concert are held onstage in the concert hall, where sound bounces off every empty seat in the audience and makes the music seem so much bigger than it actually is. The stage lights shine bright in everyone's faces, so bright that they almost can’t see Yamada conducting in front of them, but they pull it together. After all, there’s some almost telepathic connection formed just by standing up here.
Izuku gets there early for the last rehearsal on the morning of the performance, taking the front door instead of the stage door just to see what it feels like walking through the aisles when they’re empty. He doesn’t know why he wants to, he just does.
He feels a rush of cold air as he pushes the doors open, acutely aware of his footsteps as the doors fall shut behind him, blocking the quiet buzz of conversation from outside. The auditorium feels like a temple now, every footstep muted by the carpeted floors. He’s not used to this, not used to the quiet or the stillness that comes with being here alone.
Todoroki sits at the bench in front of the grand piano, up on the stage that’s meant to fit a hundred people but right now only houses one. His fingers barely grace the keys as he plays, notes soft and light under a delicate touch. The melody he plays is simple, free of the full chords that lace his accompaniment parts, and time seems to stop between every note as it echoes across the room.
The only conclusion Izuku can come to is that it’s magical, somehow.
The tempo pushes and pulls like the tides, notes rising up the keys like the flutter of a bird’s wings and cascading down again like a waterfall until they get so quiet that Izuku has to strain his ears to hear them, even with the ever-present echo. All he can do is stop and hope to listen, knowing that he can’t catch everything. He couldn’t catch every nuance, every subtle choice and phrase, if he tried.
The buildup hits him like sunlight, so bright it’s almost blinding. But he’s glad it’s not, because Todoroki closes his eyes as his hands move with perfect, calm confidence that makes Izuku wonder how long he’s practiced to commit his movements to memory. He looks so serene up there even as the music carries him higher and higher, like this is where he’s meant to be.
A pristine kind of quiet sets in once the notes reach their highest point, a comfortable, ambient kind of quiet that makes Izuku lean in just a little closer with every second that goes by. And the piece dies down, slowly, until it’s so soft and still again that he wonders if the passion that still echoes in the corners of the room happened at all.
Todoroki takes his hands off the keys and stretches his arms up above his head, scrunching his face up tight as he does so before letting out a sigh as he relaxes again. He scans the sea of empty seats in front of him, a ghost of a smile on his face-
He meets Izuku’s eyes, and his own go wide.
“Sorry!” Izuku blurts out, “I shouldn’t have-”
“No, it’s fine.” Todoroki frowns. “Are you early or is it nine-thirty already?”
“I-I’m early.” Izuku looks down at the floor. “Really, I’m sorry for everything, I know how awkward it is to have people listening to you when you don’t think they’re there-”
“I don’t mind,” Todoroki says, standing up from the bench to sit on the edge of the stage, “I was expecting someone to come early, I just didn’t know who.”
“Oh! That’s good.” Izuku smiles nervously, not daring to come any closer. Was there someone Todoroki hoped would come early? “Was that the concerto you’re working on?”
Todoroki nods.
“So you learned that entirely on your own?”
Todoroki nods again.
“Wow.” Izuku can’t breathe all of a sudden, and he knows exactly why, but he's not going to let himself admit that. “Um, it sounded amazing.”
Todoroki looks at him for a second like he’s a UFO touching down in his backyard. “...Thank you.”
“You’re welcome!” Izuku grins. “I bet it’ll sound even better with a full orchestra behind it.”
“I doubt I’ll get that far,” Todoroki murmurs.
“You will!” Izuku says, “You’re really good.”
Is he biased? Absolutely, but that isn’t going to stop him from saying it.
“...I’m glad you think so,” Todoroki says.
Izuku makes his way up the aisle and climbs up the stairs to the stage, setting his backpack down next to the piano before sitting down next to Todoroki, who doesn’t shy away.
The auditorium looks huge from here. He can see the balcony along with all the seats on the floor, and he’s never stopped to see just how many seats there are when they’re all full. It’s almost scarier when they’re empty.
“Do you think you’re ready for tonight?” Todoroki asks.
Izuku chuckles. “Not at all.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“You’re not the one singing a solo in front of all these people.”
Todoroki pauses for a second. “...Okay, you’re right, I’ve never sang in front of this many people.”
Izuku smiles, trying to shove the image of Todoroki singing out of his head so he stops blushing. “So you’re saying you’ve played for more?”
“Maybe not more.” Todoroki pauses for a second, narrowing his eyes at the invisible audience. “...Okay, yes, more.”
“Do you get stage fright?” Izuku asks, “Because I do. We have singing tests sometimes, you know? And I totally freeze up, like my vocal chords just don’t work, and I have to-” He chuckles, realizing that he’s rambling once again. “Sorry, I didn’t let you answer.”
“I don’t know, honestly.” Todoroki shrugs. “I don’t usually remember the actual performances.”
“Really?”
Todoroki nods. “I just kind of... black out, I guess.”
“Like you sit down and your muscle memory does all the work for you?” Izuku was right earlier, he’s definitely crushing on a musical genius. “That’s really cool.”
“It’s a blessing and a curse.”
Izuku laughs. “I’m sure.”
Before Todoroki can respond, the quiet ambience of the auditorium is abruptly broken when Uraraka’s footsteps echo as she walks onstage, dropping her backpack next to the risers.
Izuku tries to telepathically tell her - well, beg her, really - not to mention this to anyone. She just gives him a knowing smile in return, sitting down on the bottom row and focusing her attention on her phone.
Izuku’s multiple dreams about what Todoroki would look like in a tux weren’t even remotely accurate. Because actual Todoroki in an actual tux is so much better than Izuku’s dreams could ever come close to predicting.
So he would be screwed even if he didn’t have a solo. But he does, so he’s extremely screwed.
He's taken to pacing around the warm-up room, trying to deal with the multiple forms of anxiety weighing on him at once and failing miserably. And with Uraraka rushing off to help with something before he got here, he's completely alone in his mild state of panic.
And all the while, there Todoroki is, playing an unfittingly calm soundtrack to this whole ordeal.
“You should go over there,” someone whispers directly into Izuku’s ear.
“Oh my god!” Izuku jumps and turns around to see Uraraka, back from her errand and giggling up a storm. “What was that for?”
“Are you going to talk to him or are you just going to stay back here and let your nerves eat you alive?” Uraraka glances over at the piano, and Izuku doesn't need to be reminded of who she's talking about.
“Talking to him isn't going to help my nerves!”
“That doesn't mean you shouldn't do it!” Uraraka smirks. “He likes you, you know. Have you noticed that he always gravitates toward you before rehearsal?”
“No-” Izuku frowns. “That's just because we work together a lot, and he's a huge introvert so he doesn't talk to people-”
“But he talks to you. More than anyone else.” Uraraka emphasizes the statement with a poke to Izuku’s sternum. “You two have been dancing around each other this whole time, please do something so the rest of us can stop suffering.”
“We haven't been dancing around each other!”
“Excuses, excuses.” Uraraka shoves Izuku toward the piano with a force he didn't know she possessed. “Good luck!”
“Uraraka-”
The music stops. Like a record scratch.
“Midoriya?”
“Hi!” Izuku tries to ignore how confused Todoroki looks, but the mortification sets in just the same. “So, uh...”
“Did you want to run the solo again?” Todoroki asks.
“No!” Izuku shakes his head. “No, I think I'll be okay.”
“If you're sure.” Todoroki glances down at the keys, a tiny half-smile lighting up his face. “Because I'm right here.”
Izuku’s heart flip-flops in his chest. “...I'll let you know.”
Todoroki nods. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“Nothing!” Everything . “What were you playing earlier? It sounded nice.”
“I'm accompanying another singer for a gig next week.” Todoroki frowns. “I still need to work out the jazz sections.”
“Whoa, you do jazz?”
“Barely,” Todoroki says, “Jazz piano and classical piano are entirely different, it's hard to get used to.”
“Oh.” Izuku doesn't want to think about Todoroki playing something jazzy when he's already nervous, but the image pops into his head anyway. “Do you like it, though?”
“Yeah.” Todoroki’s eyes flash in the pink-orange light of the sunset. “It’s fun when you get the hang of it.”
“A lot of things are.” Izuku smiles. “I was in a vocal jazz group in high school, it was great.”
“Oh?” Todoroki raises an eyebrow. “In that case, would you mind singing through a song with me? For practice.”
“What?!” Izuku clamps a hand over his mouth once he realizes how much louder that came out than he intended it to. “I-I mean, it really depends on what it is.”
“Right. I have the music right here...” Todoroki leans over to open something on his phone. “‘L.O.V.E.’”
Izuku short-circuits. He sang a solo on that in high school and he’s pretty sure he still has all the lyrics burned into his memory. “Aw, I can’t say I know it well enough.”
“Of course.” Todoroki frowns. He almost looks... disappointed? Izuku isn’t sure what to make of that. “Sorry to ask something like that of you on the spot.”
“It’s okay!” Izuku looks around with a grin. “It’s pretty popular, I’m sure someone here knows it.”
“I’ll ask around, then.” Todoroki nods. “Thanks anyway.”
“You’re welcome-”
“Five minutes!” Someone shouts from the door.
“Oh, god,” Izuku whispers to himself, the realization and nervousness setting in again all at once. Why did Yamada trust him with a solo on the finale? There’s no way that can end well.
“You’ll be fine,” Todoroki says matter-of-factly. It’s anything but.
“Y-you really think so?” Is Izuku blushing? He’s definitely blushing. Can Todoroki see him blushing?
“Yes.” Todoroki stands up and for a split-second, while his back is turned, Izuku swears he’s smiling. “Break a leg.”
Izuku thinks he just might. In the literal sense.
The concert itself doesn't end up going all that horribly. It has its usual mishaps and technical difficulties, but Izuku doesn't forget any lyrics while in direct view of Todoroki sitting at a piano for an hour-long program, which he considers a success. And he even gets the rest of the weekend to recover, which is a relief since being in a concert is like being drunk regardless of whether alcohol is actually involved and post-concert hangovers are as bad as they come.
But time passes nonetheless, and Monday finds Izuku once again walking to his eleven o’clock theory class. He's been listening to the same piece for his entire walk and then some, the Emperor Concerto Todoroki had mentioned earlier. He swears it just came on shuffle.
He’s been using that excuse with a lot of the pieces Todoroki’s talked about. He listened to the Rachmaninoff yesterday on the way to the library, a tumultuous storm of a piece under three minutes long that almost ruined the sunny day outside, and all thirty-five minutes of the Brahms sonata were playing in the background while he was studying. Needless to say, he couldn’t study very well.
The Emperor Concerto is a beast of a piece. Just the first movement is more than twenty minutes long, and it sounds just as regal as its nickname would have you believe. Or maybe that’s just the early 1800s talking. Izuku’s never found that style of music very appealing. Iida’s told him it’s an acquired taste.
Despite the excitement it packs, it’s faded into the background after a few minutes, just white noise to combat the silence of the walk. If he was asked to hum back a melody later, he couldn’t do it.
But all the while, there’s something familiar about it. He doesn’t know what it is, maybe he’s heard it on the radio or the feeling is just the same as every other classical-era first movement he’s ever heard. No matter what it is, it’s bugging him to no end.
It hits him just as the piece ends. Everything hits him right as the piece ends.
He’s heard this ending before. It’s hard to place with the orchestra behind it when it wasn’t before, but he’s heard it before. And he knows exactly where.
He starts running before he can really collect his thoughts, and that’s the only thing he can do. His legs carry him faster than he can keep up with, and soon he’s sprinting because what if he misses his chance?
The last three chords perfectly coincide with his last three steps that take him to the front of the music building. And then he turns the music off.
Faint piano melodies swirl through the air, carried by the wind from the open window of that second-floor practice room. The wind stifles the notes, makes them seem empty, but the world only seems so much bigger that way. And yet it seems so much smaller, too, because he’s heard those melodies before. He’s heard them in fragmented dreams, in the back of his mind in moments of silence, echoing through the rows of an empty auditorium-
He knows now.
He knows, he knows, he knows .
Only a second passes before he’s bolting, through the doors and up the stairs, leaving confused stares in his wake that he can’t bring himself to care about. His earbuds sit silently in his ears, the only music he needs just around this corner, down that hallway, behind that door.
When he gets there, to the place he’s wanted to go for far too long now but never felt the courage to approach, it’s silent, but he knows he’s not too late. He can’t be. Time feels frozen, like it’s holding its breath.
And Izuku feels the release clear as day.
The music starts again, simple chords without any ornaments or flashes of extravagance, and it’s different now. More laid-back and free where every other sound coming from the room was locked in place by convention and tradition. Rhythms swing, chords don’t quite resolve.
Izuku is spellbound .
The music stops for just a second, on some kind of seventh chord. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale again.
And then Todoroki Shouto starts to sing.
Izuku’s breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the first few lines of “Stars Fell on Alabama”, a song he last heard a friend sing early in high school, but it’s so much clearer here and now, even with the door separating them. Or maybe it’s just Todoroki.
His voice is smooth and low, like dark chocolate, but it’s hesitant and shy, too, in uncharted waters compared to the mapped-out way he plays. Izuku has to strain his ears to hear him, but it’s better that way, because he’s the only person in the entire world hearing this. It’s his secret now, and it’s a secret he’ll protect with his life.
“I can’t forget the glamor,” Todoroki sings, muffled by the door and the walls but perfect nonetheless.
Your eyes held a tender light , Izuku completes in his head. He’s not sure how the lyrics popped into his head, but he’s willing to write it off as magic.
“And stars fell on Alabama last night,” Todoroki finishes.
Izuku knows he isn’t singing about him, but god, is he a good dreamer.
He starts singing the bridge along with Todoroki under his breath, knowing there’s no way he can hear through the almost-soundproof walls. But it doesn’t help to calm his frantic heartbeat, even though singing has been his way of doing just that for years.
He’s not sure he cares.
At least, not until the music stops.
He doesn’t notice for a few seconds, only aware of it when he notices that the piano’s dropped out and he’s the only one singing. And he doesn’t even sound that good, this was a mistake .
The doorknob turns before he can bolt down the hallway and down the stairs and back to his room where he can hide under his bed forever and never go to another rehearsal or go anywhere near this building or go to class ever again-
“Midoriya?”
“Uhhh...” Izuku has absolutely no idea what to say. He can’t go anywhere near the truth, because “Hey, I was just being creepy and listening to you sing and also I’m maybe-sorta-kinda in love with you” doesn’t roll off the tongue, yet he can’t come up with a good lie. He’s screwed either way. “Hi?”
“How long have you been here?” Todoroki asks.
“I just got here!” Izuku lies. “I just, uh, was passing by and you sounded really nice!” Shut up, Izuku, shut! Up! “Not like I was trying to be creepy or anything-”
“...You weren’t,” Todoroki says with a dry chuckle, “I think destiny might be messing with us.”
“...What?” Izuku tries as hard as he can to hide the blush coming to his cheeks because that sounded like something right out of the stupid romance movies Aoyama always seems to be watching on Netflix.
“It seems I can barely get any practice in without you showing up-” Todoroki pauses. “Not like that’s a bad thing.”
“Do you want me to stop?” Izuku asks.
Todoroki half-smiles. “I don’t know if you can.”
“But do you?”
Todoroki freezes for a second before he shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”
“Oh. Good.” Izuku laughs, a horrible defense mechanism for when he has absolutely nothing to say. “You sounded really nice.” He doesn’t bring up the singing part.
“You say that every time.”
“Because it’s true!” Izuku exclaims, “I’m not a piano person, I don’t know what to say!”
“But you are a voice person,” Todoroki says.
“Y-yes!” Oh my god is this actually happening -
“How was that?” Todoroki asks, like it’s absolutely nothing.
“It was-” Where does Izuku even begin? “Um, I don’t know what to say, you have a really great voice.”
Todoroki’s eyes flash with something Izuku can’t name. “Really?”
“Mm-hm.” Izuku nods. “I, uh, think it’s a really good song for you, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know...” Izuku trails off with a smile. “Sometimes songs just, like, work for people.”
“Hm.” Todoroki glances back into the practice room for a second. “Can you come in here for a second?”
“Y-yeah, of course.” Izuku follows close behind him, sitting down on the floor right next to the door as soon as he gets inside.
Todoroki sits down at the piano bench and leans in to look at a piece of paper sitting on the rack before turning to Izuku. “You might want to get a little closer.”
“What-I mean, are you sure?” Izuku asks.
Todoroki nods.
“O-okay.” Izuku stands up on shaky legs and takes a few terrifying steps to lean on the closed lid. “Is this good?”
“I think so.” Todoroki puts his fingers on the keys. “Do you know the song?”
“Mostly, I’ll just improvise if I don’t remember any-” Realization practically punches Izuku in the face. “Wait, you want me to sing it?”
“Is there a problem with that?”
“N-no, just-” Izuku takes a second to catch his breath. “Why?”
“I want to try harmonizing.”
Izuku chokes on air. “U-um, okay, if you really want to! I think that’s great!”
Todoroki just smiles and plays the intro. Izuku wonders if he shifted the key up just for him.
“We lived our little drama...” The lyrics drip off Izuku’s tongue like honey, even as his voice shakes with nerves. “We k-kissed in a field of white...”
He hates how he stuttered on the word “kissed”. Like that isn’t what he wants to do to Todoroki right this instant.
“And stars fell on Alabama last night...” He continues, trying as hard as he can to keep his voice steady, even when he knows there’s no way that’ll work.
Todoroki comes in on the root to Izuku’s third on the next verse, supporting Izuku’s voice from below, and Izuku feels a chill shoot up his spine at the sound of it. He might be biased, or completely wrong, but he thinks they sound pretty good together. Todoroki’s voice cracks on the high notes, just a little, but Izuku doesn’t mind that. If anything, it makes this whole thing sound even more real when he was struggling to believe it.
“A fairy land where no one else could enter...”
“And in the center,” Izuku sings, heart racing when he notices that Todoroki’s dropped out.
“Just you and me,” Todoroki finishes.
Thankfully, he leaves off the “dear”.
“My heart beat like a hammer...” Their voices blend seamlessly, magically. “My arms wound around you tight...”
“And stars fell on Alabama...” They look up at each other. Smile. Izuku doesn’t know whether he’s dead or whether he feels more alive.
“Last night.”
The silence that follows is anything but empty.
“U-um, that was great!” Izuku tries to ignore the implications of that song in particular, but he can’t.
“...Yeah.” There’s a miniscule blush on Todoroki’s cheeks, too. “Thank you.”
“Of course!” Izuku takes almost robotic steps toward the door so he can go outside and scream. “I think I’m going to, uh, go to class-”
“Wait.”
Izuku freezes in his tracks. “Yeah?”
He turns around. He finds himself about an inch and a half from Todoroki’s face. Todoroki steps back. Izuku steps back.
“Um...” For once, Todoroki is the one with nothing to say, and Izuku couldn’t be more grateful for that.
But where words fail, music speaks, and Izuku isn’t sure what else he’s supposed to do.
He leans in and presses a kiss to Todoroki Shouto’s lips. And Todoroki Shouto kisses him back.
It only lasts a second, maybe two, but those two seconds feel like an eternity, and Izuku doesn’t want them to end. His heart is fluttering so much he feels like he could fly if Todoroki wasn’t holding him down.
They pull away, time starts moving again, they stare at each other. Izuku’s brain is telling him to run, but his legs don’t move and his heart doesn’t want to.
“I guess that settles that,” Todoroki whispers. He doesn’t need to say what he’s referring to.
“Yeah,” Izuku whispers back. He can’t look away.
Needless to say, he’s a couple minutes late for his eleven o’clock theory class.