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For as long as you can remember, you’ve always hated the stars. People liked to talk about how beautiful they seemed, shimmering up there, hanging like far-off dreams in a boundless sky. Where most saw dreams, though, you saw broken glass–glass shimmered too, after all. Smashed beer bottles splayed out over dark kitchen tile, waiting to be scooped up by tiny hands. A window, shattered in anger. Shards of mirror reflecting back the image of a child, trembling, whimpering, pleading with the figure that looms over them, even though they know their tears will earn them no mercy.
Not all people think the stars are all that special. Just like not all childhoods are full of love and not all parents are the patient pillar of strengths they should be.
Todoroki understood the latter of those truths. Implicitly. Even if he didn’t share your distaste for those swirling balls of gas littering the night sky, he at least knew what it meant to be afraid, and not just in a childish sort of way. He understood the fear that lingered, even in the absence of immediate danger–the nightmares that endured long after the monsters, once terrifying, shrank back into mere humans.
Maybe that’s why he was so quick to answer your calls–to meet you anytime, anyplace, no matter how late it was or how absolutely irrational your concerns sounded. He was your tether, the only person that could keep you grounded during your bouts of rage, paranoia, and worry. Even in the moments when he doesn’t have words to calm you–when all he can offer is his presence–just being near him is enough. For the longest time, you aren’t sure why that is. Then, as your frantic I need your help’s shift into calmer, more deliberate I want to see you’s, you begin to understand. The way he makes your neck heat up, your chest tighten, your mind go fuzzy–it proves the one thing you already know.
You are hopelessly and helplessly in love with Shoto Todoroki.
Needless to say, when he calls you one night asking to meet at a park about a block away from your apartment building, you don’t hesitate. You arrive and find him perched precariously on the back of a bench (although he makes balancing seem so easy), chin tilted upward, hyper-focused eyes fixed on the expanse of sky above. Taking your place at his side is a matter of habit.
“You came.” He mutters as he finally glances down at you, his trance broken by the harsh thud of your bag hitting the ground.
“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”
Todoroki shrugs. “It’s late.”
“It is.” You affirm, swinging your legs out far in front of you, idly watching as specks of dirt crumble off their soles. “So?”
“You have work tomorrow.”
“I do.”
“And you still came.”
“That I did.”
A gust of wind blows through the park, disturbing the treetops sending a wave of cold down your spine. You’re not positive that Todoroki notices your shivering, but the way he lowers himself down from his perch, scooching in close and radiating a familiar sort of warmth, makes you assume.
“Thanks.” You sigh, your insides buzzing with a pleasant warmness. You suspect his quirk is only partly to blame for that. “I came because you called, and I know you’d show if I needed you to. Now, wanna tell me what’s up?”
Todoroki stares at you, jaw cocked to the side, mismatched eyes reflecting back light from one of the lamps lining the dusty walkway. He looks as though he’s on the cusp of saying something–answering your question–but then he’s turning his face upward again.
“Shoto? What, were you just in a stargazing sort of mood or something?”
“If I said yes?” He asks, tilting his head against the seatback. “If I said I wanted to sit out here and stare at the sky for a while?”
You exhale. “I’d ask why you called me.”
“I don’t know. I just–” He shuts his eyes tight like he’s trying to read imaginary words tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. “I saw the stars and thought about you…got this sudden urge to see you.” He sighs. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like some sort of emergency. Sorry.”
Thought of you. He’d been thinking about you.
There’s quiet for a while. Usually, silences with Todoroki were easy–thoughtful moments were just a natural byproduct of conversation. This one, however, is different. Tense. Apologetic. Awkward. You hate it, but you’re not exactly sure how to make it disappear.
So you speak–say the first thing that pops into your head, even though it might be opening a door you might not be able to close.
“See, I think of you when I see the sun. You know I’m not a huge fan of the stars.”
Todoroki’s eyes snap open and he turns to face you with a narrowed gaze and an upturned brow.
“The sun is a star.”
Your mouth hangs open for a second before you promptly yank it shut, resisting the urge to burst out into laughter as you do. For someone so smart, Todoroki was dense.
“Well, yeah, I mean technically. But it’s different too. The sun isn’t just some stupid thing that sits in the sky and looks pretty. It does something–keeps us alive and warm and healthy. The stars were only ever good for navigation or some crap like that, and now we have computers to do that for us.” When he scoffs, you roll your eyes, but continue anyway. “Hell, you can’t even see them up there half the time; The lights in the city drown them out. But it doesn’t matter where you are or what else is happening around you-you always know the sun is there. Even if it’s hidden behind a cloud or something, you can just feel it shining down on you.
“The sun is dependable and consistent,” you breathe shakily, “Just like you. Maybe that’s why I like y–” You catch yourself midword. “It…so much.”
To his credit, Todoroki doesn’t so much as flinch at your admission. Then again, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t even recognized it for what it was, hadn’t realized that you were pouring your heart out for him in the form of a hastily-composed metaphor. You watch him inhale, then exhale–study the way he runs slim fingers through his hair–searching for a tremble, a twitch, any gesture that might betray his composed demeanor.
Before you manage to find anything, he’s speaking again, mumbling words you can barely hear over the sound of your own breathing.
“The sun is a star. It doesn’t matter what it does or when it comes out, that’s just what it is.”
You groan. “Shoto, if I’d known I was in for a lecture on celestial bodies I would’ve–.”
“You think about me too, then?” Todoroki cuts you off with a question that saps the air from your lungs. When you just sit there, eyes the size of a dinner plate and voice unanswering, he presses on. “If you do, is it just when you see the sun?” He looks away suddenly, one hand drifting down to the edge of the bench, fingers curling so tightly around it that they go white. “Or…more often?”
You deliberate for a moment–debate the weight of your sentences, how they might change everything. You consider playing it all off as nothing more than “picking the wrong phrase.” Everyone thinks about someone sometimes, after all. Why make it into a big thing? Something that could completely change the good thing you had going on now?
Then again, it certainly sounded like Todoroki liked you. And not just in a “call-you-up-every-so-often” kind of way. No, this was more of an “I-saw-the-stars-and-realized-I-needed-to-be-with-you-forever” sort of situation (if you were the one making the judgment), and this opportunity seems too good to let pass you by. Besides, not all change has to be bad.
“More often.” You confess, feeling a wave of heat surge outward from your chest as you do.
“And not just when you need to talk?”
“Right.”
Silence returns, but it’s brief. Todoroki breaks it.
“What do you think about.”
You shake your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek and trying to choke down any stuttering. “Is this a game of twenty questions or something?”
“I want to know. What do you imagine when you think about me?”
Your heart pounds angrily against the inside of your chest, so loud you have to wonder if he can hear it too.
“My god, Shoto, don’t make me say it out loud.”
The rise and fall of Todoroki’s shoulders is anything but steady. Still, his voice sounds firm enough when he speaks again.
“Then I’ll go first.” You think you see a twinge of pink creep up his neck. “But I don’t think I want to say it out loud either.”
He moves slowly, but everything seems like it happens so fast. His hand rises–releases it’s vice grip on the bench and drifts upward. Before you know what’s happening, icy fingertips are tracing the line of your jaw, making every part of you tingle. There’s no concealing the shudder that courses through you when his nails brush over the edge of your ear.
Everything feels so right.
“Is this okay?”
You nod slowly, leaning into his touch. Todoroki shuffles along the bench, bringing himself closer. Then he leans in and you can feel his breath across your nose, your cheeks, your lips.
“And this?” It’s barely a whisper. Hesitant.
“Yes.” You breathe, aching. Your tongue darts out to wet your impatient lips.
The bench creaks. Your eyes flutter shut and a nose bumps against yours, clumsy, but you barely have time to notice. Less than a second later, Todoroki’s warm mouth is pressed against yours and you feel as though you’ve ascended; There’s humming in your ears, pinpricks stretching across your arms and back, a fuzzy sort of high buzzing in your skull.
You don’t mean to giggle when he pulls back and just looks at you. It’s just the first sound that crawls up from your throat, nervous and excited and giddy all at once. You throw a hand over your lips and shove your face into his shoulder, desperate to hide the less-than-subtle flush splayed across every inch of your skin. He doesn’t say anything, but you’re almost certain you can hear the heavy beating of his heart through his coat, rapid and every bit as erratic as your own.
For the first time in your life, you’re thankful for the stars. Because as useless as they usually were, at least they’d led you to him.