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It starts with the color purple.
Jirou doesn't consider herself shallow, but she does care what people wear. Not to judge them, or anything like that, but because a lot of people express themselves through clothes. She knows when Kirishima is sick because he isn’t wearing his normal workout clothes. She knows Uraraka is feeling good because she wears yellow, her happy color. She can tell a lot about her classmates by what they wear.
So when she sees Tokoyami wearing a purple sweater, she does a double take.
Tokoyami’s wardrobe consists mostly of black. She would say roughly ninety percent is black, the other ten percent being red or shades of dark gray. They’ve lived in the dorms long enough that everyone except for Momo has repeated clothes at least twice by this point. And Jirou’s definitely never seen Tokoyami in that.
It’s a dark purple—she’ll give him that—but nowhere near his usual black-as-my-soul vibe. There are black bats all over it, which is more up his alley, but she can’t get over the purple. It matches the color of black feathers when they catch the sun just right and shimmer like a gemstone.
She leans forward, nearly falling off the sofa. Are the bats glittery?
Is she dreaming? This has to be a dream.
“I like your sweater, Tokoyami,” Tsuyu croaks.
Tokoyami pauses. He looks down at his sweater then back at Tsuyu. “Thank you. I admit, I was unsure at first, but now I am very fond of it. It is quite comfortable.”
He keeps walking.
It takes Jirou another ten minutes to convince herself she’s not dreaming.
It started with purple, but now it’s nail polish.
Midoriya doesn’t really spend a lot of time looking at people’s hands, unless their quirk is related to their hands, and he tries to not be creepy about it. (Bakugou and Uraraka will tell anyone it’s definitely creepy especially when Midoriya starts to mumble.)
Aoyama’s hands don’t really play a role in his quirk so Midoriya doesn’t notice until lunch when they’re all sitting underneath a tree outside—Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, Aoyama, and Tsuyu. Aoyama does a signature flourish and his hand sparkles. A lot of things about Aoyama sparkle, but never his hands.
“Are you wearing nail polish?” Midoriya asks without thinking.
Aoyama holds his pose, only turning his head to look at him. A few months ago, it would have been eerie and creepy, the way Aoyama's eyes just bore into the person he looks at, but now it's a familiar intensity.
“Why, yes," Aoyama says, "thank you for noticing!”
He holds out his hand like a woman would his engagement ring. His nails are black, but when he tilts his head just so, the light catches on them and they shine all different colors like a pearl.
“They’re beautiful,” Urakaka says. “What brand is that? Is it cheap?”
“I cannot say,” Aoyama replies, still holding the pose. “It was a gift from someone precious and I thought it would be rude to ask the cost. But I am more than willing to share. I prefer a clear coat, myself, as to not distract from my natural sparkle.”
Uraraka shakes her head. “No, I could never—”
“It is no trouble at all. Perhaps we can exchange shades for an evening, make a night of it?”
Uraraka seems to know she’s fighting a losing battle. A smile takes over her face. “That would be fun!”
Aoyama pulls another pose that Midoriya has come to learn means that Aoyama is positively thrilled.
After the nail polish, it’s gemstones.
Kirishima is the one that points it out while the boys study under Bakugou’s reluctant, intense, nightmare-inducing tutelage. Tokoyami’s phone buzzes and he picks up, and Kirishima sees the back of his phone case.
Before, Tokoyami's phone case was just black, at least from what Kirishima remembers. Now it’s still black, but with a little skull on the back made of tiny fake red gemstones. It looks like something out of the 90s grunge scene and Kirishima loves it immediately. It reminds him of Bakugou in a weird way.
“Dude,” Kirishima says, which makes Tokoyami’s head slowly rise, “that phone case is manly as heck. Where did you buy it?”
“Oh dang, that is cool,” Kaminari says, leaning against Tokoyami to get a better look. “It’s not really your style, though, is it? I didn’t think you liked shiny stuff.”
Bakugou eyes it, clearly liking the skull but not say anything.
“It was handmade,” Tokoyami says, answering Kirishima’s question first. “I, too, was hesitant, but these faux stones do not shine the way true gems do. I am also quite fond of skulls.”
“We’ve noticed,” Kaminari says.
Tokoyami huffs, a sound close to laughter, and puts his phone away. Bakugou snaps at them for wasting his time and the topic moves on.
Then there’s the skulls.
Midoriya doesn’t notice the skulls at first because they’re so subtle. He wonders if they appeared all at once, or if he’s missed them. Either way, he keeps finding skulls around Aoyama.
First, it’s on his phone case. A rose-pink base with a white skull surrounded by pastel purple flowers. The skull throws Midoriya at first, but the flowers and color fit Aoyama perfectly. And he supposes the white skull is more cute than gruesome.
The second skull he notices, it’s the candy Aoyama brings to their study session. Pastel skulls that taste like strawberries and oranges. Aoyama takes the bag out and sets it with the other snacks on the floor of Uraraka’s room—a bag of chips from Midoriya, granola bars from Iida (“I thought we deserved a treat after all our hard work and got the ones with chocolate chips”), and taffy from Tsuyu. The candy skulls are gone within the first ten minutes they’re so good.
After that, Midoriya begins to notice skulls everywhere. A single faint silvery skull on the breast pocket of his pastel yellow sweater, little diamond skull earrings, a black doodled skull drawn in sharpie half-washed away on his inner forearm surrounded by red sharpie roses and black bats. He goes into his room once and sees at least two gemstone skulls in pretty purple colors that shine like rainbows.
He brings it up when it’s just Iida, Uraraka, and him.
“Have you two noticed that Aoyama has started to like skulls?” Midoriya asks.
Iida frowns, confused, but Uraraka surges forward, eyes suddenly focused. “Yes! Tsuyu pointed it out to me two weeks ago and now I can’t stop seeing it. I thought I was going crazy because no one else mentioned it. Did you see the little purple skull pin on his bag? I don’t usually like skulls, but that one was so cute.”
Iida considers this new information carefully. “Perhaps he is trying to change his aesthetic? People do often dismiss him because of his demeanor.”
Midoriya imagines Aoyama without all the glitter and sparkles. It feels weird. Then again, he hasn’t stopped with the glitter and sparkles. Now there’s just skulls. And sharpie doodles of bats, which he still isn’t sure how that fits into this, or how anything fits into this, or what this is.
He needs to consult the notebook he keeps on Aoyama before he can continue.
Later, it’s a bat.
A pink neon lamp shaped like a bat, that is. Not a live, actual bat, which would actually be less of a surprise coming from Tokoyami. The lamp sits on his dresser and is always on whenever Jirou comes to bug him about homework, or music, or scary movies.
The bat itself fits the whole aesthetic of the room, but it’s the color and how bright it is that throws Jirou off. It casts an eerie glow, but it’s by far the brightest thing in his room, outshining his old battery-run fake candles by miles. And it’s pink—pink in a room of pitch black and blood red and iron gray.
“When did you get that?” Jirou asks, pointing to it. They’re sitting on Tokoyami’s floor, a bowl of pop-corn and laptop with a horror movie queued up in front of them.
Tokoyami follows her finger. “I found it online. I originally planned to purchase it in red, but was told pink can have a calming effect. I thought Dark Shadow may enjoy the faint pink when he is restless with righteous fury.”
“Huh.” Jirou looks between the pink bat lamp and Tokoyami, who is focused on finding the play button on his laptop. “Huh.”
“A query on your mind?”
She only knows what he means because she spends so much time with him.
“It’s just not like you, is all,” Jirou explains. “It’s not bad. It’s just… different.”
“Different is not so bad, is it?”
She considers this. “Depends on the different.”
“This different is quite favorable. These days, I find it more similar than different. Rather, I do not think it was different from the start.”
He smiles, presses play, and steals the bowl of pop-corn.
She steals it back.
There’re the flowers, too.
After a post-workout shower, Kirishima heads to the kitchen to refill his water bottle only to find the sink in use. Tokoyami is carefully filly a glass vase. To the side on the counter, there’s a bundle of black flowers. Then he gets closer and he thinks they’re a dark, dark blood red. He doesn't know which suits Tokoyami better.
“Did you buy flowers?” Kirishima asks. “They’re cool looking.”
Tokoyami does not startle. “They are from the student garden. I did not pick them myself, as I spread misfortunate to every plant I have ever touched, but I mentioned liking them in passing. It was quite the surprise when I was given them.”
Kirishima doesn’t even think to ask who picked them for him. Tokoyami finishes filling the vase and moves to the side, and Kirishima fills his water bottle and leaves.
Just when Midoriya thought Aoyama was out of surprises, it’s the phone screen.
Aoyama’s phone screen to be exact. Midoriya doesn’t mean to see it, but he’s sitting side by side with Aoyama on a bench, waiting for the others to arrive so they can go for a jog. Aoyama turns on his phone to show Midoriya a picture, but the picture he sees is his home screen.
“Was that Tokoyami?” Midoriya asks.
“Hmm? Oh, yes! Quite a nice picture of the two of us, don’t you think?” Aoyama pulls up the picture again to show it off.
Tokoyami and Aoyama are sitting outside in the shade, even closer than Midoriya and Aoyama are now, and Aoyama is leaning over to kiss the side of Tokoyami’s beak. Midoriya doesn’t really know if Tokoyami can blush beneath his fathers, but that’s what it looks like he’s doing. Although, Tokoyami doesn’t seem to mind the kiss.
Midoriya stares at the picture silently for longer than is socially acceptable. Hesitantly, he asks, “Are you two… together?”
Aoyama tilts his head, as if the answer had been obvious all along. “Yes. We have been for some time. Have you really not noticed? We never bothered to hide it.”
Memories and facts shift in Midoriya’s head. Things suddenly make sense.
“But you never told us either, did you?” Midoriya asks, suddenly overtaken by guilt. Had he missed something this important?
Aoyama shakes his head. “Fumikage is… private. We discussed the matter and decided that when you all noticed, you noticed, but we would not make a spectacle. If you do not mind, Midoriya, would you please keep this our little secret? For Fumikage’s sake.”
Midoriya nods furiously. “Of course! I’m just surprised, that’s all. You two are really different. But I’m happy you found each other!”
Aoyama smiles. “We are not so different, him and I.”
“If you say so.”