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it’s a funny thing, to love someone.
it’s tearing down walls and dusting the shelves of your heart to make room for them. it’s gently asking them for the key to their own heart, getting cozy in the cavern of their chest.
in some cases, it happens slowly, over time with stolen glances across a room, fingers brushing under the table. or maybe it happens fast, bumping into a stranger and falling into their arms, catching a glimpse of the light in their eyes and deciding, this is it.
but for us, shouto todoroki thinks to himself, we walked right into it, didn't we, hanta?
walked hand in hand into whatever this was between them, settled down and got comfortable like it was a picnic, like it was always meant to be this way.
maybe someday— shouto turns his head a bit, sneaking a glance at hanta out of the corner of his eye. i could just lean in and—
he sits with his back against hanta sero’s wall, legs criss-crossed as pretends he’s totally not staring. hanta leans into him, possibly without even meaning to, as he flips the page of the manga they're reading with a chuckle.
there was no falling, no stumbling, no getting lost.
something must’ve been funny. shouto isn’t really paying attention anymore, too entranced by hanta thumbing the pages absentmindedly, fingers dipping beneath the black and white, knuckles shifting with the movement. it’s a small thing, a thing shouto had never really noticed until these last few months, never really noticed until they started sitting this close, until shouto started seeing hanta in a new light.
and suddenly this close isn't close enough.
shouto kinda wants to kiss those knuckles. maybe hold his hand, but he stays still, never pushing too far, never pulling too hard, always watching. always listening.
hanta mumbles the dialogue under his breath. his dark hair comes untucked from behind his ear, and he lifts a hand to tuck it again.
shouto kinda wants to kiss that hand.
it’s a funny thing, to care for someone.
it’s checking for a fever when they're not looking so well, it’s watching for the darkness under their eyes to fade, it’s bringing an extra water bottle along with you.
it’s answering a phone call at midnight. it’s leaving your door unlocked. it’s leaving them a space to sleep beside you.
“another nightmare?”
“mhm.”
“come over.”
hanta shifts and their arms brush; shouto can feel his muscles move when he turns the page again. shouto’s knee presses into hanta’s thigh. shouto could just lean down and place his chin on this boy’s shoulder if he wanted.
he kinda wants to do exactly that, but he stays completely still. it’s easier to stare from this distance, anyway.
with hanta’s hair tucked back again, shouto can map the planes of his face with ease. there’s the pointedness of his brows, the roundness of his button nose. there’s his cheekbones spattered with a few freckles, then there’s the cut of his jaw, the sharpness of the bone, the dip underneath.
shouto kinda wants to kiss him there.
there’s a constellation of more freckles on his neck shouto may have seen in the sky before.
shouto kinda wants to kiss him there, too.
there’s the jewelry in his ears. there’s the darkness of his eyes, the way the colors fade from inky black to charcoal gray, and the shadows of his thick lashes. then there’s the smudge of his liner, and it’s this moment shouto realizes it’s not at all fair how beautiful hanta is.
it’s a funny thing, liking anyone at all. as ridiculous as it sounds.
hanta is saying something.
shouto doesn’t really hear it, only watching as his lips move. it’s this moment that shouto realizes he’s not at all content with sitting this close to hanta anymore, and he’d very much like just a little bit more.
a chin on a shoulder, a hand in his own, fingers running through hair.
maybe—maybe a kiss. maybe two. or three. shouto could be content with just one.
maybe.
hanta is saying something.
“we can read something else if you want,” hanta murmurs. he doesn’t turn his head, only nudges shouto with his shoulder. “or—shou, you’re not listening.”
shouto blinks. hanta is looking at him now.
“hm?”
“you’re staring.”
shouto watches as a riot of pink bleeds onto hanta’s cheeks, his shoulders tensing as hanta calls him out on his bullshit. so he was staring, sue him, but maybe it’s not the best idea to openly admit that right here and now.
“was not.”
neither of them lean away, even as hanta comes to realize just how close they really are, which is, like, really close.
“liar.”
shouto purses his lips, begs his eyes to maintain contact with hanta’s. begs his eyes not to betray him, not to fall where they really shouldn’t.
“am not.”
then hanta’s lips morph into a grin, a knowing grin, and shouto can’t help it when he steals a glance at them. one brow raises, and shouto kinda wants to kiss him there, too.
that thought is what blows shouto’s cover completely. heat crawls up the back of his neck, and he purses his lips harder as he’s sure that heat sinks into his face, into his cheeks. then hanta’s eyes flash, and the corner of his mouth quirks higher, and shouto considers hunting hanta’s parents down and personally thanking them for creating someone as breathtaking as the boy before him.
needless to say, his mind is spinning a mile a minute.
“now you're blushing,” hanta giggles—the bastard giggles —and sets the manga to the side.
it’s incredible how quick shouto went from shamelessly staring to wanting to melt into the floor with all this new, focused attention hanta is giving him. maybe he should’ve been sneakier with his staring. maybe he’s basking in the attention. maybe he did this on purpose.
maybe you’ll never know.
the statement makes shouto blush harder, despite his valiant efforts to keep the heat in his face under control. he sputters, “i’m not blushing, i’m not—“
“you totally are.” hanta’s voice is laced with a smirk, but it quivers around the edges as he leans forward just a tiny bit, not even enough for shouto to notice. he’s too busy keeping his eyes away from hanta’s lips, inviting as they are. “did i get the ever so stoic and powerful shouto todoroki to blush ?”
shouto’s mouth falls open with a small, mildly affronted gasp.
he thinks i’m stoic and powerful?
focus!
“don't be ridiculous, i’m not— “
“oh, sure,” hanta laughs at that, and it’s music to shouto’s ears, silky and airy and amazing and intoxicating. out of the corner of his eyes, shouto sees him pick up the manga again, and when he realizes hanta’s about to turn away, he panics.
“you just—“ shouto starts, unsure of what he wants to say. hanta looks at him again, stealing the air right out of shouto’s lungs. “just, um—“
“just what, shou?” he presses, pushing shouto further toward his demise. shouto wants to kiss that stupid smirk right off his stupidly pretty face. hanta’s blushing but it doesn’t even matter, because he’s calm, cool, and collected, making shouto look like a flustered schoolgirl.
the manga gets put to the side again. barely, just barely, hanta readjusts a bit so he’s somehow even closer, planting his hand on the bed beneath him. it’s—it’s too much.
shouto’s never wanted to kiss him so bad in all the years he’s known hanta. in fact, shouto’s never wanted kiss anyone this badly in his entire goddamn life.
it’s a funny thing, to have closeness and to still crave more.
so maybe shouto’s selfish. maybe he’s greedy.
he opens his mouth, the words sitting right at the end of his tongue. “hanta—“
hanta looks like he already knows , and shouto wants chases that light in his eyes.
he wants and he wants and he wants.
he settles for this: “can i kiss you?”
the boy full of stars falters, seemingly frozen in place. shouto watches as his eyes widen, as his chest heaves for a sharp breath.
so he scrambles. “please? it’s proper manners to—“
but he doesn’t get to finish, because hanta is pushing forward to close the short distance between, much less than elegantly. it takes a moment to adjust, to relax, to find a pace that matches that greedy want in shouto’s veins.
a fire burns in shouto’s chest, rages beneath his skin as hanta’s lips meld into his own. those slender, calloused hands find their place on shouto’s warm cheeks, cupping them and bringing him as close as they can possibly get without being on top of one another.
shouto grips hanta’s shirt, dizzy and electrified and out of breath.
holy shit.
it’s a supernova behind his eyelids. he’s pretty sure they both suck at this, but without prior experience, who's to say?
hanta pulls away after a moment, hands faltering and landing on shouto’s own as he tries to steady his breathing. he plants his forehead to shouto’s, then he laughs and the sound makes shouto dizzy all over again.
i just kissed him.
“holy shit,” hanta breathes, his words washing over shouto’s face. he’s so beautiful, so pure and breathtaking and shouto has no idea what to do with himself.
he just kissed me back.
“um—“ shouto starts.
“hey.”
shouto meets his eye, heart ready to crawl out of his throat. “yeah?”
in slow motion, hanta pecks shouto’s nose, and it’s so disgustingly sweet shouto can only smile like an idiot. the cup of his face is comforting and shouto just melts as hanta tilts his head up so they can lock eyes again. he can hardly see straight.
this moment is endless, immortal, untouchable.
“kiss me again,” hanta whispers, and goosebumps erupt over shouto’s arms. “please?”
it’s a strange thing, to be in love, but they figure it out together.