Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Are you alright?"

This was a question that had a clear answer: no. No, he wasn't alright. Shouto hadn't been 'alright' for some time now. But what was he to do? Answer honestly and worry Momo even more? That just didn't seem like an option.

Even as he resisted to answer, Momo saw right through him. His father never hurt him in a way that left any obvious marks, but the tension in his shoulders was difficult to ignore. He was getting better at ignoring the unloving man's words, but it still wasn't enough where he'd come out completely unscathed.

Momo sighed, unhappy with his lack of response. "Well, I need to get going to piano practice soon. I really wish you'd--" She paused. They both knew that it was hard for him to talk about his home situation. "I'm sorry." Momo said. "I know you're going through it. And I know you don't owe me any explanation. I just wish I could help. Maybe, to get things off your mind, you could journal or something?"

"I wouldn't know what to write." He said. He tried before, but he just blanked as he sat down before an empty word document.

Momo hummed. "Well, that's fair. I find it hard to parse my feelings too, sometimes."

He doubted that. Shouto didn't want to snort at his friend's suggestion but he felt rather uncharitable toward her at this moment. It wasn't fair for him to think of her like this—Momo was just trying to help. But he did so anyway, tired of trying and failing to be okay.

"You could try reading to take your mind off things?" Momo looked over at him. She was searching for something behind his gaunt face, but Shouto offered nothing.

"I guess I could." He had nothing else to lose.

"Perfect!" Momo immediately brightened up. "I got this book from my cousin the other week. She said it was pretty good. I haven't had a chance to look at it but maybe you could take it instead?"

The book was titled "A Map of the Stars." The cover was a simple, matte black filled with shiny, silver dots—most likely to represent the stars. He turned it over and read through the summary. It was about a mother and her son. Shouto pursed his lips, unsure if he wanted to read about something that hit so close to home.

As if reading his thoughts, Momo said, "Really, you should give it a try! It's from a debut author. Apparently, the story has already received a lot of attention. My cousin has nothing but praise for it."

"I'll try, but don't hold out for me." Shouto said, pocketing the book in his bag.

Momo smiled. "That's all I ask for."

The book had been tough to read. The story read through the mother's perspective and her failings as a parent. She left her son early in his life and only came back in his early teens. Shouto stayed up all night to finish the book as he needed to know what would happen.

It was strange how obsessions formed. He didn’t expect to care so much about a book, but it happened anyway.

He was a zombie the next day in school. The words replayed in his head over and over. He wanted to circle every single sentence that spoke to him, but he was afraid he’d have to give Momo her book, fully highlighted.

So instead, Shouto wrote down the snippets that mattered most to him.

Momo remarked that he looked more alive than usual. Her smile seemed to be full of wary hope. He handed her the book back and thanked her. Everyone else told him he looked dead tired, but that wasn’t quite true. Underneath the layers of sleep deprivation was someone who felt born anew.

Midoriya Izuku.

That was the name of the man who wrote "A Map of the Stars." It was his first novel and it already received many accolades from others. Shouto found one interview from a small literary magazine. The questions were generic: what inspired you, what did you write having in mind, does this reflect your own life? Even so, through the removed layer of an article, Midoriya's charm bled through.

Shouto decided then and there that he'd follow this man's works.

(He really needed something to think about other than his family life, after all.)

"Have you read Midoriya Izuku's short story?" Shouto asked. He was sitting outside an ice cream parlor with Momo and her new girlfriend, Kyouka. The two girls had been friends since the start of college but it was only until their third year that Kyouka gained the courage to ask Momo out.

"I haven't had the time." Momo sighed. "School work has been piling up like crazy. Hasn't it been like that for you? I mean, you probably have a bunch of essays to go through, right?"

That was true, but Shouto didn't mind staving off his school work to read through Midoriya's work. His second book—a thriller involving a couple—was a resounding success as well. And then, Midoriya decided to change tacks and write a short story.

It wasn’t a long read. He wished there was more.

"I have time." Shouto shrugged.

Kyouka groaned. "Ugh, I don't know how you manage. Literature majors have so much reading to do. If I had to do that, I'd die."

"I agree." Momo sighed, as if pre-med wasn't more stressful than either Shouto or Kyouka's majors.

"You should read it when you get the chance to." Shouto said.

"I don't know if I have the time… Kyouka, why don't--"

"Oh, you're not tricking me into reading. I didn't pick accounting to analyze literature." Kyouka stabbed her spoon into her rainbow sherbet.

"Who said anything about analyzing?" Shouto said, confused.

"Isn't that what you do when you read?"

"For classes, yeah. But if I'm reading on my own, I just read."

"That's not all of it, is it?" Momo asked, looking curious.

Shouto paused, considering Momo's words. He looked down at his ice cream—a plain vanilla bean. Kyouka had made fun of him for it but he liked the simplicity of the taste. The shop had high quality ingredients and it was obvious from the flavor alone.

"It's more that… the story seems to understand me. I read Midoriya-san's stories for that, anyway."

"He's only had two books out so far, though, right?" Momo leaned back in her seat, in an uncharacteristic slouch. Clearly she was tired of schoolwork if she was doing such an unladylike move. "I only read his first book, but..."

"Wait, wait—who is this guy?" Kyouka asked, looking between the two. "I thought he was your favorite author?"

"He is." Shouto nodded.

"How can he be your favorite author if he's only written two books? I mean, don't you have to read a couple more books than that to have a favorite?"

"Do you?" Were there rules to having a favorite author? "I just like both of his books."

"What if he writes a bad novel?"

"I doubt he'd do that." Shouto didn't know where his confidence came from. He wasn't the one writing these books after all.

"What was the story about?" Momo asked.

Shouto ate a spoonful of his ice cream as he thought about how to sum up the short story. "Violence."

Kyouka looked intrigued. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Shouto nodded. "The story was about a man who bullied his coworker. No one else knew what was happening, or if they did, they didn't care. It started to escalate more and more until, well. Spoilers."

"You're still holding out on us to read this story, huh?" Kyouka asked, amused.

"It's interesting." Shouto said, looking down at the ice cream. In the short story, the main character’s favorite ice cream flavor was vanilla bean. It was a strange flavor for a cruel man. But maybe he, too, had access to high-quality ice cream.

"I might read it. What’s it called?" Momo said, thoughtfully.

“Dead Man’s Party.” Shouto said.

“Huh, isn’t that an Oingo Boingo song?” Kyouka asked.

Shouto shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Ugh, remind me to introduce you to real music.”

"I didn't expect Midoriya-san to pick a story so dark. But I suppose his first book did have inklings of that." Momo said, tapping the edge of her ice cream cup with her spoon.

"The topic doesn't bother you?" Kyouka asked Momo, looking surprised. "I thought you'd find that sort of stuff… distasteful."

Momo laughed. "You think too highly of me."

"Well, obviously." Kyouka mumbled. "You're my girlfriend."

Momo blushed.

Shouto caught her eye and shot her a knowing smile. He was glad he pushed Kyouka into confessing. Momo deserved someone at her side after having been with Shouto for so long. Now that he was pursuing something he cared about, he didn’t need the same level of support as he once did. Now, all he needed was more of Midoriya Izuku’s books.

Todoroki Shouto braced himself against the garden wall. He unexpectedly had too much to drink. It wasn’t like him to drink any alcohol in the first place, but the nature of the event drove him to imbibe in red wine.

He finally saw Midoriya Izuku in person. It was a writer’s event where different writers came about to talk about their craft. His university hosted one and Midoriya just so happened to be one of the main guests. The luckiness of this event felt too good to be true, but it was real. Shouto had seen him.

Midoriya talked about his upcoming third novel and explained his inspiration. Shouto had been captivated. So much so that to clear the buzzing crawling through his hands, he took one too many drinks. He didn’t know what to do with the excitement in him. What did people do when they were before their idols? Momo had been concerned and suggested water, but he waved her off. He needed fresh air more than anything. Being among so many people, and so close to the person he admired most, was overwhelming in a way he couldn’t quite process. It was… too much.

So, he found himself standing in the garden outside of the university’s banquet hall. It was small, private, and dark. Just perfect. He needed to sober up or he was going to regret this hangover. God, Kyouka was right—he was a lightweight.

“Are you hiding from the others too?” A voice called out. Even in his inebriated state, Shouto could tell who it was.

“Midoriya-san?” He said, trying not to stumble over the plants underneath him. The best thing to do now was to walk away and leave the man to his own. He was out here for a reason. But the reckless, drunk university student in him let him be drawn to Midoriya Izuku like a moth to the flame.

“O-Oh! Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Midoriya seemed startled. Shouto could barely make out his expression in the low lamp-light. The night was particularly cloudy, so there was no moonlight to guide him. “Would you like to sit down?”

Shouto sat without saying much else. Fire coursed through his veins. He was glad he still kept some of that buzzed feeling left in him or else he might’ve not plucked up the courage to sit beside his favorite author.

The two were quiet for a bit. “You’re a student at UA?”

“Yes.” Shouto looked over. Why was it that alcohol dizzied your eyesight? He wanted to see Midoriya properly, but he couldn’t even see all that well in the dark. “You have freckles. I didn’t know that.”

“What?”

“Freckles. The interviews never mentioned them.”

Midoriya laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, I guess you’ve heard of me?”

“I’ve read your books.” Shouto confirmed. He stared at Midoriya longer, trying to map out the constellations on the older man’s face.

“Are they that strange?” Midoriya asked, rubbing a finger at his cheek.

Shouto blinked. “Strange?”

“You keep staring, so…”

“No. They’re not strange.” Shouto said, shaking his head, but that made him feel dizzy, so he stopped. He didn’t know how to explain to Midoriya how this all felt. How unreal it was to have him beside him in this barely-lit garden. The man that wrote words that Shouto drank in like an animal to a watering hole. Before his books, Shouto hadn’t been living. No, Izuku couldn’t sense the simmering underneath Shouto’s skin.

Maybe that was for the best. He didn’t want to scare Midoriya off.

“I guess people don’t talk about my appearance all that much since literary magazines are there to talk about books, you know?” Midoriya was humoring him, clearly.

“Probably for the best they don’t know. It’s distracting.”

Midoriya laughed. “I’ve never been told my freckles were distracting!”

“I’ve been trying to connect the dots, but it’s not making anything recognizable.”

“But connect-the-dots was always numbered, wasn’t it? God, it’s been so long since I’ve done anything like that.” Midoriya sighed and leaned back onto his hands. Shouto pressed his hands into the bench trying to feel what the other man felt. It was comfortably chill to the touch.

“I liked connect-the-dots.” Shouto said, trying to continue this inane conversation. “I miss when homework used to be that simple.”

“You must be swamped in a lot of work as a student, huh?” Why did his heart feel so light just now? Was it because Midoriya was paying attention to him? “What’s your name?”

“Todoroki Shouto. I have a lot of books I have to read for the classes I’m taking.” He paused, knowing he stepped forward a few too many steps. “I’m a literature major.”

“Nice to meet you Todoroki-kun. I’m Midoriya Izuku—I guess you already know me?” Midoriya was clearly flustered at the thought of being known to someone else. Shouto could understand that, but he wasn’t about to pretend he didn’t know Midoriya. “But, wow you’re a literature major! How nice! Do you like it?”

“Yes.” Shouto hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I wanted to study literature because of your books, Midoriya-sensei.”

Midoriya parted his lips and Shouto lamented the fact that there were no proper close-ups of the man online. He barely had photographs of himself. Which was a pity because his face was perfect. (A fact he was only willing to admit to himself in this buzzed state.) “W-Wow. I, um, never thought I’d be able to inspire anyone like that. You don’t have to call me ‘sensei’ though. I’m really not used to it.”

Shouto didn’t know what to say to that. Should he detail exactly how Midoriya’s books helped him in his younger years? How he found solace within the pages? How the pain and resentment of his tenuous relationship with his father and consequently, his family, had been soothed by the comforting words that Midoriya offered in his stories? His copy of Midoriya’s first book, “A Map of the Stars”, had been dog-eared so many times that Shouto bought a second copy just to keep as a neater version for his bookshelves.

But that seemed too intimate, too personal, to tell this man he just met. It was true that Midoriya’s books offered support when he most needed it, but it wasn’t Midoriya’s job to do the same. The books and the man were two different people. Never mind that the books came from the mind of said man.

“Your books helped me a lot when I was younger.” Shouto said, leaving it at that. That was enough for now, wasn’t it? “So I picked up literature as a major.”

“Wow. That’s… really nice to hear. Thank you.” Midoriya smiled at him and Shouto’s brain stuttered. He knew this man’s smile was wonderful as he saw him stand at the podium and present his story. But it was an entirely different thing to be on the receiving end of the smile. “I always knew—I mean, Hitoshi said—um… never mind. It’s just nice to hear my books mean a lot from someone else. I think I really needed that just now.”

Shouto continued to stare at Midoriya before gathering up the courage to speak again. It seemed like the buzz was wearing off. “How did you pick the topic for your short story?”

“Dead Man’s Party? You want to…ask about that story?”

Was that the wrong thing to ask about? “Yes.” Shouto nodded, trying not to second-guess himself.

“I’m surprised you’re asking about that and not my new book.” Midoriya chuckled.

“I haven’t read your new book yet.”

“That’s true. Alright, I’ll talk about that one. Have you read anything by Mary Gaitskill?” Shouto shook his head. “Well, it’s primarily inspired by a short story she did called ‘The Other Place.’ I read it in my college years which was, what, 5 years ago for me? Anyway, I think it stuck to me all this time so… I made a story about it.”

“What was the short story about?”

“I guess the simplest way to sum it up is that there’s a man who has an obsession with violence. But the story doesn’t lead to murder which I found interesting. Normally, you’d think that there would be death involved.” Midoriya seemed to shed some of his self-consciousness while talking about another author’s story. Shouto was now just realizing that Midoriya Izuku was not someone who was comfortable with the spotlight. Maybe that was why he didn’t have too many images of himself out there. “The story is mostly concerned with a man who has these fantasies about violence toward women. He tries acting on it, but he doesn’t succeed. And then there’s another part to the story where he sees his son have those same tendencies, so he tries to make sure to cultivate someone who doesn’t give into those urges.”

Shouto watched Midoriya talk as he came alive. For a brief moment, it appeared as though the light was shining brighter, but then he looked up and realized that the clouds simply uncovered the moon for that moment. Maybe, it could be a sign.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble like that.” Midoriya said, ruefully. “It’s a bit easier to talk about other authors’ stories than my own writing.”

“Can I ask another question?” Shouto said, brushing aside Midoriya’s bashfulness. He would’ve done his best to comfort the other man, but curiosity overwhelmed him.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Your second book was a murder mystery, but this one isn’t.” He paused, unsure of how to phrase the question. How did one ask ‘why violence?’

Midoriya smiled. “You’re going to ask me why I picked such a dark topic, right?”

“Yes, but it’s not like—like I’m judging you.” Shouto said, haltingly. He didn’t want Midoriya to think that this was coming from a place of prejudgment.

“It’s okay, I get what you’re asking.” Midoriya laughed. He rubbed his neck and looked out to the banquet hall building. “I guess….recently, I’ve thought about the darkness in humans, so-to-so speak. Darkness can often lead to violence, and none of us are exempt from that. I think it’s in all of us. But only some really give into those thoughts. I guess I’d say, I remembered that story recently because of—of some events…”

Midoriya fell silent, looking pensive.

“Events?” Shouto prompted.

“It’s just—how do I explain this?” Midoriya picked at his cuticles. Shouto noticed how torn and red they were—it was visible even in the low light. “I both don’t understand aggression and do. I know we all have these thoughts—these impulses to hurt others. But I don’t understand the mind of someone that would go through with it.”

“I don’t either.” Shouto murmured, thinking of his father’s anger. “Some of it might have to do with anger, though.”

“But some of it doesn’t.” Midoriya sighed. “I don't really know if I’m explaining myself well. I guess I just picked the topic, part because that short story stuck with me for a while and part because I’m just trying to understand the people I’ve come across who get so—so angry.”

“So the story was to understand people?”

Midoriya hesitated as if debating something. He looked toward Shouto with an unreadable expression. “The short story was based on some personal events. I, um, used to get bullied. So I wanted to see the events of what I went through from the perpetrator’s eyes.”

So Midoriya-san had been bullied…

“Did you get anything from writing it?”

“I...I don’t know.” Midoriya admitted. “I don’t know if I, um, healed or anything. But I guess I understand a bit more.”

Shouto was quiet. Making sense of his father’s anger helped him, as well.

“Ultimately, you could say it’s to make sense of violence. My second novel has a bit of that too, remember?”

Shouto nodded. He read that one obsessively when it came out.

“Right, well, the main character of my second book goes through with hurting his wife because he loves her too much. It’s ridiculous to even phrase it like that, but I know people must struggle in that same position all around the world.”

Shouto was silent. “I don’t understand that, though. How can you hurt someone you care for?”

“People do it all the time, I think?” Midoriya smoothed over a ring on his hand. It wasn’t on his engagement finger. Was it a couples ring? “The frustration of not having that person understand you often causes them to become furious. That’s just one reason, of course. Anger isn’t predictable. But whatever the result is, it doesn’t mean you don’t love the person.”

Shouto frowned. That felt very much like an excuse.

Midoriya laughed. “You don’t look like you buy it.”

“I don’t.” Shouto said. “If you loved a person, why would you hurt them?”

“Humans hurt each other all the time. It’s not something we can help.” Midoriya said. “Even if you try your best not to do it, it’s going to happen.”

“But that’s different from constantly hurting someone. Doing it by accident is one thing but doing it on purpose is another.”

“Yeah. It is.” Another sigh. “I guess, I just want to explore this topic in any which way. Sometimes it leads to violence and sometimes, it doesn’t. Frustration and irritation can evolve into ‘I’m going to hurt her.’ I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be tired of the topic, truthfully. Are you… still going to read my latest book in spite of this?”

“There’s no ‘despite’ here, Midoriya-san. I’m always going to read your books.”

“That’s… kind of you!” Midoriya looked flustered once more. “Wow, it’s always so different hearing it from someone that’s not a friend or family.”

“You don’t do book signings, right? I’ve been looking forward to that for the third book, but I didn’t catch wind of any.” Shouto said. He really was hoping to get a signed copy of the book.

“Yeah, they make me anxious… My publisher really wants me to do one, but it’s a bit too out of my comfort zone.” Midoriya let out a rueful chuckle. “E-Even so, if it’s not too presumptuous, do you want me to send you a copy of my third book with my signature?”

Shouto stared. “Yes. Yes, please. I’d love that.”

“Actually, I might have a few copies in my hotel room. Wanna go grab it now?” Midoriya asked, standing up.

“Alright.” Shouto stood up. The ground wasn’t swaying as much as it did before. It seemed like the fresh air did him some good.

Shouto began making his way with Midoriya out of the garden before being suddenly stopped by a man with black, spiked hair. He was tall and well-built.

“Izuku! Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.” The man sounded harried. He shot an appraising look toward Shouto. “Who’s this?”

“Yo, I told you I’d be in the garden.” Midoriya’s voice dropped low. “He’s a fan. I’m thinking of giving him a signed copy of the book.”

“Really?” The man looked Shouto up and down. “Is that all?”

Midoriya sighed. “I just need to get him a book and we can be on our way.”

“Yeah, no. We need to go inside now. There’s some people asking for you and I told them you’d go meet with them.”

“What? But I-I told you—”

“Come on, there’s a journalist from the New York Times. She wants to speak to you, specifically. Are you going to let this chance slip through?”

It felt odd being caught up in the middle of this. “You can go ahead, Midoriya-san. This sounds important.” Shouto offered, not wanting to take up the author’s time if he could help it.

Midoriya’s expression was not relieved, as Shouto expected it. He looked distressed, but Shouto didn’t know the other man well enough to read much into it. “U-Um, alright then. Do you still want the book? If you don’t, that’s fine—”

“Of course, I’d like that book. But I don’t want to give you trouble.” Shouto would give his right arm to get an autographed copy from Midoriya, but the person called Yo was staring daggers into his head. It was probably best he left before he caused trouble for the writer.

“How about this—” Midoriya pulled out a notecard from his pocket and scribbled an email on it using a black pen he kept in his pocket, “Email this. I’m sure whoever is on the other end can hook you up to something.”

The email was strangely unofficial sounding. ‘[email protected].’ Shouto looked up at Midoriya to question it, but the man’s expression caught him off-guard. His smile was strained—nothing like the gentle one he wore only moments earlier.

Shouto pocketed the note without saying another word.

Midoriya’s shoulders relaxed. “It was nice meeting you, Todoroki-kun! Good luck in your studies!”

The man beside Midoriya did not relent his gaze that was trained on Shouto. “Let’s go, Izuku.” He said, bringing an arm around the shorter man.

“O-Oh. Yeah, okay…” Midoriya shot one last smile toward Shouto before being pulled away from the garden.

Shouto watched the two leave, feeling strangely put-out. He pulled out the notecard and did his best to memorize the permutation of letters in case he were to lose the paper. But he wouldn’t lose it. He didn’t intend to.

He sighed and went back to the bench. Shouto sat down and leaned back to stare at the sky which was once more hidden by clouds.

Hello,

I was given this email by Midoriya Izuku to see if I could get a signed copy of his third novel that’s just been released. I was at the press signing yesterday and if you ask Midoriya-san, he should be able to validate my story.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Regards,

Todoroki Shouto

***

Hey Todoroki-kun!

This is Midoriya Izuku, actually! This is my personal email, haha. I figured it was better to give this than some random publishing agent. I hope that’s okay! I had a really nice conversation with you last night, and, well, writers have to do everything in their power to keep the interesting people around them. It’s good inspiration!

I’m glad I talked to you then. I was feeling a bit skeptical about my book but I’m glad that I reached at least one person. I’ll get you a signed copy of the book! Do you have a P.O. box I could send to?

This feels a bit strange to me, truthfully. I know that there’s a part of me that’s aware that this is me stroking my own ego--connecting to a fan like this. But, please believe me when I say that I enjoyed what you had to say. I don’t often get a chance to do fan meet-ups and whatnot. My editor, Shinsou Hitoshi, says that it’s good to connect with fans to see what they like in my stories. I hope you don’t mind that I’m enlisting you as the first person for this experiment of mine.

I apologize, I’m rambling. Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon!

Sincerely,

Midoriya Izuku

After that night, Shouto began to look out at the stars more and more often. He never thought to make a connection between them and freckles, but now that he saw Midoriya up close and personal, it felt like an obvious connection.

The email that Midoriya gave him  turned out to be his personal one. It was odd that he didn’t say it right then and there, but Shouto decided to leave it as is. What was the point? He had Midoriya’s email. He had a tangible connection to his favorite author.

Shouto stopped scouring the internet for information on Midoriya soon after. It felt too much like he was a stalker to be constantly on the lookout for the author’s personal details. After all, when he worked up the courage to ask such things, Midoriya would readily answer any question.

The stars aligned themselves that night to bring him this miracle. Or maybe the stars were just a map of the things he should be searching for—like answers to his problems.

It wasn’t long before their cordial letters turned to more relaxed, friendly exchanges.

Hello,

Midoriya-san. I hope your day is going well. Did you know I finished your book in one night? I ended up not completing an essay I had due for the next day and ended up late to a class because of it. I don’t mind though. It was worth the read. (Don’t worry, my grades won’t suffer much.)

Have you read a poem called “I knew something was wrong” by Dorothea Grossman? You probably might have. I read it just the other day and it reminded me of you.

Best Regards,

Todoroki Shouto

***

Hi Todoroki-kun!

Thank you for the poem! I actually haven’t read it before haha. It’s funny you think I know every piece of literature out there, but I swear I don’t. I actually skimp out on poetry a lot of the time! I think it’s probably because half of the stuff I read are things my editor (Hitoshi, if you remember) wants me to try out and he rarely touches poetry. But I liked it a lot! What made you think of me in particular? I’m curious :)

Don’t neglect your studies for a book! I’m really flattered you liked it that much, but it worries me to know I might’ve indirectly affected your schoolwork. But then again, I wasn’t much better at your age….

— Midoriya Izuku

***

Hello Midoriya-san.

Don’t worry about my schoolwork. I’m usually on top of it. If I’m not allowed to indulge in truancy every now and then, then when? That’s something I learned from my friend, Kyouka. She says that breaking rules is good for the soul. I’m not entirely sure I believe her, but I think I see some of what she means.

(Also don’t worry, Midoriya-san. I remember Shinsou Hitoshi.)

I’m not entirely sure of why that poem reminded me of you, but perhaps it just seemed like something you’d like. You’re very good at writing things that feel strange and off. I figured that you must understand the feeling of picking up a piece of sunlight in one way or another.

I feel that the ‘sunlight’ in the poem may be a metaphor for something, but I’m not sure what.

Best Regards,

Todoroki Shouto

***

Hey Todoroki-kun!!

I think your friend might be onto something! I think she’d get along with Hitoshi haha. Or maybe not. I find that people are either put-off by his personality or like him a lot. It’s a hit or miss.

When I read through that poem… I think I understand a little bit of what you mean. There are elements of strangeness in my books like the poem, but also, that’s reflected in my life, as well.

If I were to say the sunlight was a metaphor for something--and this is completely my interpretation--it might be a truth? What if a truth comes into the narrator’s hands, making its presence known. I’ve witnessed lies turn into truths with one small item.

— Midoriya Izuku

***

I’m not sure I entirely understand what that sort of metaphor could mean. But my professors have said that I take poetry at face-value, often. But I thought the point of poetry was to evoke emotions, so I never tried to find answers. Even so, I always wonder if I’m supposed to be doing something with the poem or not.

By the way, do you have a favorite poem, Midoriya-san?

— Shouto

***

I don’t know if it has to mean anything, specifically. But if you want it to mean something, then I say search for a meaning. That’s how I treat much of the things I read--the meaning I find in it will come naturally.

And, while I don’t read much poetry, I do have a favorite! Or rather, I have a few favorites but I’ll pick one for you. Have you heard of a poem called “In the Desert”? It’s by Stephen Crane. It’s a little dark but I think it’s rather special. Maybe I like it because it’s just a metaphor for art in general? I’m not sure!

Though, it makes sense to me to see it that way. If the creature’s heart is equivalent to writing for me, then it’s true that I enjoy it, even if there’s bitterness to it. 

I also like another poem by him called “Behold, the grave of a wicked man.” I think I might find it strangely relatable.

By the way, do you have a favorite poem? Do you like poetry? I’m glad you like it though! I enjoy you sending me these things :)

— Izuku

***

I like poetry very much, yes. I don’t have a favorite poem though. I find it hard to choose. I just find ones I like and copy them down so I don’t forget. If I find something I really like, perhaps I can send it your way?

The poem was an odd pick for a favorite choice, but given the subject of your books, I’m not all that surprised. It’s dark and interesting. I liked your interpretation. But I also assume it can be seen as ‘being comfortable with your bitterness.’ Although, I suppose that can’t apply to you because I can’t imagine you being bitter. You’re very nice to me, especially considering you have no reason to indulge me in this way.

Why do you find the second poem relatable? I don’t see how it could be relatable to you, truthfully.

— Shouto

***

Haha, you’re nice to me too! I promise, I’m not talking to you from the kindness of my heart. I have my secret, evil reasons >:) Really, though. I enjoy talking to you a lot. I don’t know if this will come as a surprise to you or not, but I don’t have many friends. Hitoshi might be my only close friend and I’m not entirely sure how much that counts considering he’s supposed to be someone I work with. I don’t interact on social media much since it’s all so overwhelming, but one-on-one like this? It’s really nice.

It’s funny you say you can’t imagine me being bitter. I do feel it, though. Deeply.

I found the poem relatable because I often think of what it would be like to be all three of the people in that poem: the wicked man, the stern spirit, and the drooping maid. I guess, I’ve been in the position of the maid more than I’d like to admit. (If that were the case, then Hitoshi would be the spirit.)

I see the poem in two ways in how the question is answered: one being that the maid loved a man that wasn’t truly wicked and the second being that the spirit was correct in his judgement. Both elicit different emotions, don’t they?

Anyway, I’ll let you draw your conclusions with that one!

— Izuku

What was it that Shouto felt when he read through Izuku’s latest email? Hunger?

Yes, it had to be hunger. They were just words on a screen, and yet all Shouto could feel was something clawing up inside him to frantically type out “Why? What made you bitter? I want to know everything about you. Please let me crawl into your brain.” The desperation took him by surprise, but it felt ready to burst out of his skin.

This feeling was ‘obsession’, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it an ‘obsession’ to want to know everything that Midoriya Izuku was thinking?

But the small crumbs of life Midoriya gave him left Shouto hungry. It was hard enough to satiate him. But he couldn’t find it in himself to beg for more small scraps of food. It wasn’t pride that stopped him from doing this. But rather, the knowledge that he didn’t have a right to ask for more. There was an invisible line already drawn in by the expectations set forth by society. He couldn’t get too mad. This wasn’t something he could change easily.

Still, Shouto wondered about Midoriya. Where Midoriya’s bitterness started and ended, what it was about, what Shouto would have to do to see the ugly parts of MIdoriya’s soul. He couldn’t imagine the kind man thinking in such a way but the strange dichotomy made him all the more curious. It felt unpleasant to be put outside this circle of knowing. But it wasn’t as though Shouto cared about how others felt. Being left behind never felt like a painful thing until Midoriya unintentionally drew up the wall.

This was ‘obsession,’ wasn’t it?

Shouto felt tired. He pressed the palms of his hands into his closed eyes. The glare of this laptop was no longer visible behind his hands and for a moment, he could ignore the pressure building up inside him. (A part of him knew that this force wouldn’t stop building because, for better or worse, he was a pressure cooker that could handle it all.) He didn’t want it to be preoccupied with Midoriya. It felt as though he was tainting their relationship this way.

“Do you both love each other?”

Kyouka and Momo looked at Shouto with surprise evident in their expression.

“Um—” Momo looked over to Kyouka who was now staring at her with an intense expression. “Yes?”

“You don’t sound sure of yourself.” Shouto pointed out.

Kyouka snorted. “You put her on the spot.”

“And you didn’t even answer!” Momo said with a pout.

“So, do you?” Shouto asked once more.

“Yes.” Kyouka said with a nod. Her embarrassment peaked ever so slightly with the way the soft pink crawled up her ear. “I do.”

Momo blushed.

“How did you know?”

Kyouka shrugged. “I just looked at her one night and decided that I felt comfortable. It felt like… like the same kind of comfort that I have with my parents, so I guess it felt l-like home.”

Momo’s eyes softened. “Really? You feel comfortable with me?”

“Why is that the thing you’re touched by?” Kyouka asked.

“It’s just, you’re like a cat. You don’t want people in your space.” Momo said, smiling now. “But you’re okay with me, so—”

“Of course I’m okay with you. You make it sound like I wasn’t the one who liked you first.”

“It’s different, isn’t it? Liking someone and loving them?” Shouto interrupted.

Kyouka shrugged. “I guess so. In the beginning, when I asked Momo out, I dealt with all the worries and what-ifs. But now, it’s different. More…secure.”

“Less nerve-wracking?” Shouto offered.

“It never stops being nerve-wracking. Smaller things may not worry me as much now. But the deeper issues like just the concept of ‘forever’—I think about that a lot.” Momo said. “That’s just further proof of how much I care for Kyouka.”

Kyouka leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Momo’s lips.

“Was it always about comfort, though?” Shouto asked, interrupting their moment. Kyouka shot him a glare that he knew she didn’t really mean.

“Not at first…” Momo trailed off. “I guess it started off as curiosity. Wanting to know about someone more and then wanting to know even more about them.”

“Yeah, it was the same for me. I saw this girl in my 8AM class that looked so put-together when everyone else looked like they wanted to be anywhere but there. I had to know what her deal was.” Kyouka said. “God, you’re still the only person I know that actually wakes up before 7 for fun.”

“Hey. it’s not because I find it fun! I just wake up at that time. I can’t help it.” 

Shouto tuned them out. He knew what their song and dance would be: Kyouka would refute with something teasing, trying to purposefully get a rise out of Momo while Momo would do the same, albeit in a more successful manner. He thought back to Midoriya. It didn’t have to be an obsession, right? Perhaps, he was just a map-maker, trying to figure out the mystery that was Midoriya Izuku. Or whatever metaphor fit (and didn’t leave him feeling slimy.) 

The correspondence continued. And whatever emotion Shouto was trying to classify in himself grew. He didn’t want to call it ‘obsession’, but ‘desire’ didn’t seem quite right either. ‘Hunger,’ ‘thirst’—none of those things seemed right. There had to be something else.

‘Crush’ wasn’t it either. Too simple of a word, too childish. And ‘love’ seemed too grandiose and unfit for someone like him, who knew much of what it was. He could hardly recognize it.

He’d keep searching for the right word. He wasn’t a writer, so he knew that this would take time. But Shouto didn’t mind looking for an answer. He could be patient.

Chapter Text

The years kept adding up and Shouto still kept in touch with Midoriya. Kyouka often talked about karma and Shouto wondered if this was the way the universe was balancing itself with the abuse he endured from his father. He told Momo and Kyouka as such and they were both unimpressed with his assessment. They said something along the lines of ‘relationships aren’t something you earn,’ as the mistreatment by his father was not something to be rewarded. But even so—for once, things were finally changing for the better.

Midoriya recommended him books often, showering Shouto with his knowledge. It was convenient for his studies—he chose to major in literature for a reason—but more than anything, reading into Midoriya’s unique conception of stories felt like he was getting a peek into the other man’s mind. Midoriya would’ve been a good teacher. But Shouto was glad that he wasn’t, instead he was content to be the only one who had access to this monopoly.

“I like Midoriya-san,” Shouto said to Kyouka in lieu of a greeting. She smirked and let him into her shared apartment with Momo.

“Your writer?” Kyouka asked, sucking through a juice box, closing the door after he entered. 

“He’s not my writer,” Shouto said and then paused. “Although--”

“You want him to be. Wow.” Kyouka smiled, leading him into the kitchen. “Who knew this day would come?”

Shouto blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, Momo and I have been wondering when you were gonna tell us about your thing with your writer. I kinda figured you didn’t have a clue why you were fixating on him, so it’d take some time for sense to be knocked into you.” She smirked. “Actually I was gonna sit down and explain the birds and the bees to you if all else failed.”

“You both knew?”

“It was just a hunch, but it seemed obvious. So, yeah.” Kyouka shrugged, pulling out a juice box from the fridge. She tossed Shouto one which he caught. He looked down at it. He knew that other kids probably tried them in elementary school and whatnot, but he never did. “Good for you though. What now?”

“I don’t know if there is anything I could do, realistically,” Shouto said, pulling the straw out of the plastic wrapper. “He’s dating someone.”

“So? Go be a homewrecker. I’d support it,” Kyouka said nonchalantly.

“I’m telling Momo.”

“Boo, you’re too boring. Besides, she knows what she’s stuck with.”

Shouto didn’t roll his eyes, but he certainly wanted to at that moment. “I just wanted to acknowledge how I feel toward Midoriya-san. That’s all.”

Kyouka regarded him with a curious look before she nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

They stayed quiet for a few moments while Shouto struggled to stick the straw into the juice box. Kyouka sighed and held out her hand. “Give me that.”

Hey Todoroki-kun!

I hope you’re doing well, as always! I’m sorry I haven’t responded to your emails! I receive them and read them all, don’t worry. I’m just a bit busy with personal matters. Nothing too bad! Just busy, busy. You know how it goes, right?

By the way, how have your classes been? You’re close to graduating, aren’t you? Wow, it’s amazing you’ll have a PhD in English. Just one more quarter—hang in there!

Also, I haven’t told many people this—the media included—but it felt necessary to tell you this. I’m probably going to stop writing for a while. Recently, I’ve been lacking inspiration and I’ve realized I’ve reached the high point of my career. So, why not quit while I’m ahead? Anyway, I know you’re a fan of my books (seriously, thank you so much for supporting me these years!) and so I decided to let you know. Please be sure to keep this information from the news, though. My editor really wants to keep this within the circle.

Anyway, that being said, is it alright if we continue our email chats? I really do enjoy talking to you a lot, Todoroki-kun. It’s helped me in many ways and I hope that we can still be friends, even if I stop writing. I can help you with your classes, of course! And I’m sure I can find someone to recommend you to work at a well-off university too. Just let me know what I can do and I’ll be sure to get it done :)

Kind Regards,

Midoriya Izuku

***

Midoriya-san,

Why are you quitting writing? It doesn’t make sense to me. Of course, we can still continue to be friends even if you don’t write, but I want to know what happened.

— Todoroki Shouto

***

Hi Todoroki-kun,

As I said in my previous email, I’ve run out of inspiration. It’s nothing too deep, haha. I’m really sorry that I’ve let you down with this, but I’m glad we can keep talking.

Why don’t you tell me how school is going for you?

Regards,

Midoriya Izuku

***

Midoriya-san,

That’s not an excuse, and you know it. You were the one who told me how you handled your writer’s block in the past. Has something happened to you? Are you alright?

— Todoroki Shouto

***

I’m fine! Really, don’t worry so much, Todoroki-kun. I promise, I’m okay.

***

I don’t believe you.

***

What can I do to get you to believe I’m alright? I promise I’m alright. I’m sorry for upsetting you.

***

Midoriya-san, I don’t want you to lie to me. That’s the issue. Can we call please?

***

“Hello?”

“ Todoroki-kun!” The voice was shaky, but unmistakably Midoriya. Shouto held back a sigh of relief, relaxing a bit in his desk chair. He had been at home, working on his assignments when he received the troubling emails. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. I was occupying myself with a thesis paper, but please don’t deflect from what we were talking about before. Why are you quitting writing?”

The line was quiet for a moment. “It’s nothing too big, but—you’re a lot more hung up on this than I expected. I’m guessing you’ll be upset when you won’t get to read my next book?” Todoroki wasn’t good at reading people—even more so when it was over the phone—but even then, he could tell that something was wrong with Midoriya’s method of questioning.

“I’m worried because I know how much writing matters to you. It’s something important and I don’t know what will happen when you cut it out of your life. When did you decide this?”

“ L-Last month. I—”

“Was that before or after Toshinori-san’s Charity Benefit?”

“ After.”

“Did something happen during then? I thought you were being cold over our emails, but I wasn’t too sure.”

“ Todoroki-kun, I-I don’t—I don’t…” Midoriya trailed off and Shouto wondered what to say. The older man was usually rather forthcoming with most information, but right now he was being unusually evasive. Or rather, he was having difficulty getting the words out.

“Can I visit you?” Shouto blurted out. He was usually a bit more restrained with these sorts of things, but it’s been years since he’s seen his favorite author in person. Besides, he wanted to convince Midoriya not to go through with whatever this was. It was a risky decision—maybe one that was filled with hubris—but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to go through with it.

“ What?” Midoriya sounded confused, even a bit incredulous.

Shouto pushed forward. “I want to visit you. Can I?”

“ Is this to persuade me not to end my writing career?”

“Yes.”

A snort of laughter. The heaviness on Shouto’s shoulders eased a bit. “Todoroki-kun you’re so straight-forward.”

“You’ve mentioned that before, yes.”

“ I—I don’t think you can convince me not to go through with this decision. I’m sorry to — to disappoint you.”

“You’re not disappointing me. I promise.”

“But, even so—”

“Can I visit you, anyway? I have a two week-break until my professors need me back. It wouldn’t be much out of my way.”

“ I—are you sure? I guess this would be the first time we’re meeting in person.”

“We’ve met in person before.”

“ Yes, but it wasn’t the same, right?”

“It wasn’t. Do you not want to meet?” He wanted to see Midoriya. And this time, it wouldn’t be at some writer’s event or something else. This time, Todoroki would see him on his own terms.

“ This is just to convince me to not quit writing, though — ”

“I’m doing this because I’m worried. You haven’t been like yourself for some time and now you say you want to quit your passion? I’m not doing this because I’ll miss your writing, although there might be a small part of me that would miss it.” Shouto took a deep breath. Momo stressed the importance of communication. “It’s because I’m your friend. If this is annoying—”

“ It’s not annoying! It’s just so — so sudden! There’s a lot to keep up with.”

“Oh. Well then.” A beat of silence. The air between the two was pressing.

“ I-I’ll talk to my friend. I’m staying at his place right now and he should have an extra room, but — ”

“Please do ask.” Shouto didn’t have time to be shameful about his requests. He’d push forward so he could keep this relationship with Midoriya Izuku alive and well. He’d take whatever role the other would give. He’d do it so that he wasn’t left behind.

“ Okay. I-if you’re sure. Um.” Midoriya cleared your throat. “I have to go now. But, uh, I’ll talk soon? A-And don’t forget to email me back a report on your classes!”

“Of course.” Shouto said, smiling softly. “I’ll email you soon.”

“ Yeah! Bye, Todoroki-kun. I’m sorry I can’t talk much longer, but it was nice hearing from you. Really.”

“Good-bye, Midoriya-san.”

The phone clicked off. Todoroki's gaze went to the window. He needed to ask his professors for some time off. Right. He could do that.

“What’s the game plan here?” Kyouka asked, throwing down a pile of snacks she had picked up at the convenience store. She was over at Shouto’s apartment to help him deal so to speak. (That’s how she always put it.) Of course, Shouto would’ve preferred to tell both Kyouka and Momo. But, as it were, Momo was visiting home for family reasons, so Kyouka was the only one that could entertain Shouto’s delusions.

This wasn’t a delusion, right? Midoriya-san wanted him to be there as much as Shouto wanted it, right?

There was always an uncomfortable song and dance to play when one didn’t know what the other wanted. Two people could crave each other’s company equally, but if neither showed it, then it was impossible for either person to know. How many people passed through each other's lives thinking that they weren’t being desired in the same way?

But maybe Midoriya-san knew. Maybe he knew and this was his way of gently letting Shouto down. (Maybe he wasn’t quitting writing and it was all a lie to keep Shouto away forever.)

“Game plan?”

“You’re meeting your writer in person, right? You gotta do something,” Kyouka said, settling on Shouto’s couch. She popped open a bag of chips and offered it to him.

“I don’t—I’m just going to find out what happened.” Shouto took the bag of chips as he settled down next to her.

Kyouka sighed. “When are you going to confess? Is he in a relationship with that guy you mentioned before?”

“I don’t think so. He stopped mentioning him at one point.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know if it’s even an option at this point.”

“Why not?”

“He might not feel the same.”

Kyouka stared at him. “Coward.”

Ouch. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“You think it was easy for me?” Kyouka asked, raising an eyebrow.

Shouto sighed. “No, but even so, I don’t know if I should outright say it. It seems like something else happened in his life, so I don’t want to disturb that with my feelings.”

Kyouka gazed at him for a long while before turning away. “Yeah, I get that. All I’m saying is trust your judgement, but also, trust your instincts. Maybe keeping this friendship is important, but your feelings deserve to be heard too. Just remember that when you talk to him.”

Shouto said nothing to that. He simply popped some chips in his mouth, hoping to avoid what he was feeling. But of course, even if he didn’t speak, his mind ran forward.

“Are you sure you want to come, Todoroki-kun? I don’t want to force you.”

“I’m the one asking if I could. Is it not alright with you?”

“No, no! It would be nice to see you again. It’s been a long time after all.”

“Then, it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“No, I suppose not. Well, I look forward to seeing you!”

“Likewise, Midoriya-san.”

Shouto stared out the train window. The scenery blurred past him in a way that soothed his nerves. It was meditative to just watch a scenery that didn’t require much of his attention. However, it wasn’t so much that it kept his thoughts at bay.

Why did Midoriya quit? What was he doing with this? Was it a problem that was too tantamount to overcome? If that was the case, did Shouto have any right to interfere? The answer to the last question was no, of course. Shouto was just a friend at best. Not someone who could tell Midoriya to get back to writing, especially if it didn’t serve him. 

Of course, that was him trying to reason, trying to sound brave as if he didn’t care. As if Shouto really were a selfless person that didn’t need Midoriya’s books. 

What if he still needed the other man’s words? What if this was just a step toward them breaking their friendship? Without books tying them together, what did they have?

The trees in the distance moved slower than the ones out in the front. Signs dotted the train tracks and Shouto could not make out what they said. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, tired of trying to see things in places that moved too fast for him.

Shouto’s screen lit up. It was a text from Momo.

M: Shouto!! Good luck on your trip :) I believe in you!!

M: Also, I know that this must be a scary thing for you. I know you didn’t phrase it that way, but that was the impression I got. I may not know the full extent of the situation, but I’m trusting the universe to do you right. You’ve looked at the stars more than anyone so I’m sure they’ve heard you out at least a little bit. 

M: And remember, Shouto! You have to win him over with your prince-like appeal!

He stared at it and shot back a text.

S: Thank you.

Midoriya was waving to Shouto as soon as the younger man exited the train. Even from a distance he looked vibrant and lively. Almost as though nothing were wrong with him at all. Shouto couldn't help but wonder if what he was doing was even a good idea.

"Todoroki-kun! You're here!" Midoriya's voice sounded even more rich and perfect in person.

"I'm here," he said with a little too much sincerity behind his words. Shouto surveyed past Midoriya if only to push past the embarrassment of what he just said. "Is that Shinsou-san?"

"Ah, yeah! He's here to drive us back. I-uh, I thought you’d like to meet my editor.." Midoriya rubbed his neck. Shouto just nodded, unsure of what else to add. He wished it could've been just the two of them, but he didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

It was nice that Midoriya-san wanted him to meet his editor, though.

Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya’s long time friend and editor, approached the two. Even from this distance, he gave the impression he was contemplating something. His eyes roved over Shouto’s figure in an assessing way, but nothing in his expression gave any insight into his thoughts. Not that it would’ve mattered much—Shouto still wasn’t great at reading others. 

"Done with your reunion?" Shinsou smirked at Midoriya who grew red.

"Hitoshi!" There was silence as Midoriya and Shinsou had a conversation simply through their gazes. Shouto felt left out.

"It's nice to meet you, Todoroki-kun." Shinsou said, turning away from Midoriya. "Are those your bags? Let me help you with them."

"A-Ah, me too." Midoriya said, grabbing one of Shouto's bags.

The car wasn’t parked too far from the station and they soon loaded the bags into the back. Surprisingly, Midoriya took the back seat with Shouto instead of the front seat like he expected. Shinsou got behind the wheel and began fiddling with the radio.

Midoriya fidgeted in his seat. On a previous phone call, he had mentioned these habits (‘yeah I fidget all the time—it usually ends up annoying whoever I’m with. Which makes it worse when I’m anxious’). But being told something and seeing it in person were very different things altogether. It was as though Shouto were rediscovering Midoriya again for the first time. It’s been too long since he’s embraced Midoriya’s presence. And while Shouto knew him well from their many emails, this was an entirely new dimension.

Who knew the presence of another person was so important? So rewarding?

Midoriya met Shouto’s eyes and smiled shyly. Shouto didn’t smile back—or couldn’t. He just stared, trying to drink in Midoriya’s every feature. (Already he had forgotten Shinsou was up in the front).

“It's a little weird meeting like this,” Midoriya said with a laugh. “I know that we only met a few times. But the last time was ages ago, wasn’t it?”

“It’s been a while,” Shouto confirmed. “You don’t look too different, though.”

“You say that, but I’m getting a bit flabbier.” He sighed out dramatically. “I know it’s in my genes to put on weight whenever I’m stressed, but all I’ve been doing lately is eating.”

“You’ve been stressed?” Shouto asked, honing in on the fact. He didn’t quite see the self-deprecation that Midoriya was going for, but before he could reassure him, he needed to confirm what Midoriya was saying. He wanted to know if this was something related to him quitting his writing.

“Uh, y-yeah.” Midoriya trailed off and Shouto held himself back from pushing on the subject. No point in getting intense about it now, right in the beginning of their long-awaited reunion.

Shouto waited, yet Midoriya said nothing.

“This is getting painful,” Shinsou said, groaning up from the front of the car. Shouto’s eyes darted forward as though he was surprised that someone else was in the car. “Izuku’s stressed because he broke up with his boyfriend for the last time.”

“Hitoshi!” Midoriya hissed. Up close, the red crawling up his cheeks were so much more obvious.

“I’m doing you a favor—you gotta rip this band-aid off sooner than later,” Shinsou said, sounding entirely too unapologetic.

Midoriya’s brow furrowed as a worried expression darted along his kind features. Surely, Midoriya-san didn’t quit writing because of this? What had been the man’s name? Midoriya had so rarely mentioned him that Shouto hadn’t bothered to keep track, truthfully. (In fact, a small part of him would pretend that Midoriya was single. This wasn’t the healthiest thought process but some fantasies were okay to keep, right?)

“Hitoshi, please—”

“Anyway,” Shinsou said, interrupting Izuku. “We’re glad to have you here Todoroki-kun. You’ll be staying in the guest room while you’re visiting. I hope you don’t mind, but my boyfriend’s also gonna be in the house.” 

“I don’t mind. I’m glad to be here,” he said quietly.

“T-That’s good,” Midoriya said. Shouto wanted to bombard him with questions. Was he pleased that Shouto was here? What was he reading in his free time? Did he watch any new movies? Why did he break up with his boyfriend when he had nothing but praises for him before? Did Shouto have a chance now?

Shinsou turned on the radio. The uncomfortable silence now punctuated by music. No one spoke up again for the rest of the ride from the station to the house.

“Hey.” Shinsou stopped Shouto as Midoriya went to put his luggage away in the guest room. “I’m glad you’re here. I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but Izuku’s been pushing a lot of people away. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like you’re one of them.”

“Why?” Why him? They were just online friends.

Shinsou assessed Shouto. “I don’t know for sure, but I think the fact that you’re not in his personal writing circle helps. Most of his friends were writers. Or, his exes.”

“I—I don’t—” Shouto looked down at the ground and then up at Shinsou’s tired eyes. “Why did Midoriya-san quit writing?”

Shinsou turned away with a sigh. “That’s not something you should hear from me. Ask him. He probably won’t say no.”

“Probably?” He didn’t enjoy the odds of that.

He shrugged. “Probably. I don’t know what he’s willing and not willing to tell you. But I’ve got my fingers crossed for you. Alright?”

Shouto nodded and Shinsou led him into the house. He began to run through a small tour all while Shouto’s mind was miles away. What could make a person give up their passion?

Shinsou’s boyfriend was unlike anyone Shouto had been expecting.

“Woah, your hair is cool! It’s all two-toned and stuff. Hey, how tall are you?” Kaminari Denki asked excitedly, immediately after introductions were made.

“Ignore Denki. He’s got a height complex,” Shinsou said, smirking from behind his coffee. They were all in the living room as Midoriya passed out drinks. Coffee for Shinsou and Shouto, tea for Midoriya-san, and strangely enough, hot water for Kaminari. Shouto never met someone who drank plain hot water, especially when there were other options available.

“I do not! I mean, Todoroki-san’s pretty tall! Why wouldn’t I ask about that?” Kaminari was scowling at his boyfriend.

The tired edges at the corners of Shinsou’s eyes softened. “Hardly what I thought when I met him.”

“That’s because you’re tall, too!”

“Oh, so you admit you’re short?”

Kaminari’s glare couldn’t be less intimidating, but even so Shouto was on-edge. He didn’t enjoy seeing couples fight. (It reminded him far too much of his parents.) Momo and Kyouka were sickeningly in love so they never had a moment where they were not trying to outdo each other by taking care of the other.

Midoriya laughed, and instantly whatever uncomfortable tension was building up in Shouto, dissipated. “Gosh, you guys fight about the most ridiculous things! I’m so sorry you have to see this, Todoroki-kun. They’re always like this,” he said, in a stage whisper.

“You should be glad I’m not flirting with him in front of you.” Shinsou said, lifting a brow. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see me making out with him everywhere.”

“I-I mean, you’ve seen me...” Midoriya trailed off, glancing toward Todoroki before his eyes darted away once more. “Nevermind!”

Shinsou’s smile dropped and he simply took a sip of his coffee. Kaminari’s smile struck Shouto as strained. There was a beat of silence before Kaminari broke it. “So, Todoroki-san! You’ve talked to Izuku-san for a long time now, right?”

“5 years,” Shouto confirmed.

“Wow, that’s impressive. I have such a problem keeping up with my friends for that long. Do you guys talk about books and stuff?”

“Yes.” Shouto nodded before taking a sip of his coffee. Still too hot. “I like to get Midoriya-san’s interpretation on different stories. He’s very insightful.”

Midoriya rubbed his neck in a bashful gesture. “I-I’m glad you think of me that way. I enjoy talking about stories a lot.”

“You’d be a good book critic,” Shinsou said thoughtfully. “You could—”

“No.” Midoriya’s tone was curt. He winced when he realized what he did and shot Shinsou an apologetic smile. “Um, sorry. I’m just, I want to leave all that behind.”

Shinsou and Kaminari exchanged glances. “Alright, if you say so,” Shinsou said with a sigh. He peered over to Shouto. “Todoroki-kun. Why don’t you tell me what you like best about Izuku’s books? He still has a hard time accepting my praises. I’m sure you probably tell him all the time.”

“Not nearly enough,” Shouto murmured. He saw a slow creeping pink crawl up Midoriya’s face. He was blessed to see this in person, wasn’t he? “If you don’t mind then—”

“W-Why don’t you tell me about what you’ve done recently?” Midoriya interrupted. Clearly, he was avoiding any means of praise thrown his way. The obviousness of a person’s self-esteem was hard to parse through until it was placed in front of one. Even then, Shouto couldn’t understand completely why Midoriya hated the attention the way he did.

Shouto began to fill the air with inane conversation, halting every now and then as he struggled to find something interesting to say. Perhaps, there was something to be said about self-esteem and how it was never so obvious to the person that held those negative beliefs—that they were a fractured look at reality. After all, Midoriya hung on Shouto’s every word as if it was something worth listening to as though his story wasn’t the most boring thing ever.

Soon, Kaminari took over the conversation and Shouto couldn’t help but be both grateful and envious. It was as easy as, “Oh that reminds me—there was this guy at the club...” And the story went on. Kaminari had a knack for storytelling that Shouto didn’t have.

But Midoriya was smiling, so it was alright. Todoroki couldn’t understand a person’s thoughts fast enough, but he could read body language like it was a page from a children’s book. (He had to learn—growing up, Enji’s moods were unpredictable until they weren’t.)

A part of him doubted whether he should’ve come or not. But another part of Shouto reveled in Midoriya’s presence. Even if it was Shinsou’s house, it was Midoriya’s presence that called to him the most. The sight of him, the smell, the sound. The other two senses were a privilege not given to Shouto. But this was enough for him.

It was odd that the first real activity the two of them were doing together was grocery shopping. Such a mundane task that Shouto was all too eager for. 

Midoriya was mumbling over a notebook, counting through the things that needed to be found in the store. He was shopping for the entire household—for both Shinsou and Kaminari if the fruit loops and many cans of Monster energy drink said anything. Shouto followed behind him, pushing the cart at a sedate pace while shamelessly ogling the man.

“Did you want anything for your stay here, Todoroki-kun?”

“Hm? No, I’m alright.” Shouto said, not at all thinking about what he actually needed.

Midoriya turned to shoot him a skeptical glance. “Really? You don’t want any snacks or cereals or—?”

“I’m not really a cereal person, Midoriya-san.” Shouto shrugged.

Midoriya laughed. “Don’t let Kaminari-kun hear you. I swear, if ‘cereal connoisseur’ was an actual job, he’d take it in a heartbeat.”

“Do you know Kaminari-san, well?” Shouto asked, tacking on the honorific even though the boy was younger than him. It felt too odd to be direct with his name seeing as they weren’t close.

“More or less—Hitoshi would often rant about him at 3am to me. He was pretty manic during the time they first met and started dating. And that meant I was privy to their dating life.”

“Manic?”

Shouto was still behind him with the cart and thus couldn’t see the other man’s expression. It was slightly distressing but he couldn't run up to stare at his face, could he?

“He was…..going through it. As was I. And we would end up calling each other late at night because neither of us could sleep. Hitoshi still has insomnia even though it’s a lot better now. But back then—back when I was publishing, I think, my second book? Back then, I’d stay up too late just thinking and pacing for no real good reason.” He let out a soft sigh that was barely discernible.

Shouto pushed the cart up next to Midoriya. “Is there ever a good reason for pacing around?”

“Well, going on walks is nice and good for you, isn’t it?” Midoriya said, while reaching up for a bottle of soy sauce. He was shorter than Shouto which meant that he had to lean up to grab the bottle. Shouto wanted to brush up against him and grab it for him but it was too late. Midoriya already got the bottle. “I’d often go on runs at night to clear my head and think about plot points for my novels.”

“You like to run, Midoriya-san?” Shouto asked, latching onto this innocuous detail about the man.

Midoriya turned to him. “Yes. Why? Do you run too?”

“Yes.” No. He didn’t run. He normally swam at the university pool because he hated the feel of running.

Midoriya’s smile widened. “We should go running sometime then. I’ve all but dropped my workout routine and Hitoshi hates anything related to cardio. Do you want to try tonight?”

“...Sure.”

Shouto really needed to stop lying for attention. This was as bad as Monoma. 

(Monoma was one of the few people in the graduate literature program. His attitude toward Shouto was…..confusing. Most of the time, he kept trying to pick fights with the other man through ridiculous exaggerations.) Best not to stoop down to his level. At least, he was only doing this to get Midoriya’s attention.

As if that was any better.

The problem with running with Midoriya wasn’t that Shouto wasn’t fit or the company was bad. No, the real problem was that he hated running. His personal coach had specifically recommended swimming because of this. So far, they had managed about 10 minutes before Shouto started hating all of this.

But it wasn’t as though he could turn back now. Midoriya was beside him, keeping up easily as if he hadn’t taken any time off from running. Maybe he had lied? No, Shouto was the liar here. Midoriya just dodged the question for things he didn’t want to answer.

They stopped for a quick water break and Shouto gulped down more water he should’ve. He wiped his mouth, knowing well that the run back was going to be awful.

Midoriya let out a burst of laughter. 

Shouto looked up at him, confused.

He was still chuckling as he said, “I’m sorry, it’s so obvious you hate running.”

“It’s that obvious?”

“You were glaring the whole time. Your normal expression is a bit more like—” Midoriya reached up to Shouto’s forehead and smoothed away the crease between his eyebrows with a single finger. Shouto’s expression slackened in shock. “This. There. Now, you don’t look so mad.”

Shouto swallowed.

“Why do you run if you hate it? I’m pretty sure there’s other ways to work out without it being so bad.”

Well, best come clean with the truth. Shouto never figured out how to lie with a story. That was more of Kyouka’s alley anyway. “I actually don’t run.”

Midoriya tilted his head questioningly.

“I just thought it would be fun to do something with you. I actually prefer to swim.”

Midoriya steadied himself against a lamppost as he laughed. The street was dark and no one was around. The night was cool and Shouto resisted the urge to look up at the stars to hide his embarrassment.

“You really should’ve told me! We can find something else you’d like to do.” Midoriya paused, considering the next course of action. “How about this—we go get some takeout and then watch a movie instead? We could go swimming tomorrow if you want to? I’m not the best swimmer but that’s only because running is so much more convenient.”

“I—whatever you want.” Shouto said, bewildered.

Midoriya shot him a soft smile. “We’re also doing this for you. Why don’t we decide where to get food and then go from there?”

Shouto nodded, uncertainly. He was fine doing whatever Midoriya wanted but, perhaps, it was better to share.

“So, Todoroki-kun….did you know that Haruki Murakami runs for 10km when he’s working on a novel?” They had slowed down to a walk and were in the general direction of what Shouto presumed was the Chinese take-out place.

“I’ve heard.” Shouto said, blanching. “It’s insane.”

Midoriya laughed. “I used to be more intensive with my workouts when I was actively writing my novels.”

“Really? You never—” Mentioned. Shouto stopped himself from continuing, realizing what it sounded like if he pointed out how his understanding of Midoriya was essentially through articles, interviews and emails.

“Mentioned? Yeah, I guess not. It’s so mundane to me, it’s not worth mentioning.” Midoriya said with a shrug. It just happens that I work best when I have some adrenaline in me, I suppose.”

Shouto nodded. “Swimming helps me clear my head. My therapist said it was a healthy way of coping.”

Midoriya looked surprised. “You have a therapist? You never….mentioned.”

Shouto shrugged. He didn’t see the point in mentioning something like that.

Midoriya gaped. “Y-you know you can tell me these things, right?”

“I know.” Shouto said, unsure of where this was going. “I just didn’t think it was all that interesting.”

There was silence before them and Shouto could tell that Midoriya was trying to formulate a response. “I….I went to a therapist too. Actually, I still go to one.”

“Oh.” Shouto said. “Does...do they help?”

“Yeah. Yeah, she helps a lot. Um….why did you go to therapy? Or what prompted it?”

“Momo—you know Momo—suggested I see one. I  guess it was nice to talk to someone about my past. Just to get it out there.” Shouto looked up at the stars. “Your books helped, and this was just the next step.”

“You know…..I don’t mind you telling me about yourself, right? Shouto-kun, you always seem to want to focus on me whenever we talk.” Midoriya took a deep breath. “But, I want to learn about you as well.”

Shouto was contemplative. They continued walking. He opened his mouth to speak. “My father was a strict man. And my mother….she was troubled. I grew up not really understanding who either of them were as a result. It started with—”

And the two continued this way, through the dark street, dimly lit by the lights and stars.

They were at Shinsou’s apartment with Chinese takeout laid out on the coffee table. Midoriya had explained that Shinsou and Kaminari would be out. The two rarely stayed at home as they both were party animals. Shouto hadn’t expected Shinsou to be a person who liked clubs but, it seemed like he was mistaken. But he had never been someone who had been good at observing people’s personalities so this seemed right on track for him.

The talk from earlier left Shouto feeling strangely ajar. Open in ways he didn’t know how to process. It almost hurt. But he’d tuck it away for him to examine at night, alone in bed.

The television was playing some reality tv show that left Midoriya cringing. Something about getting married in 90 days or something. It was rather strange to see his author laid out on the couch in some light grey joggers, watching mediocre tv. He didn’t know what sort of impression he had of Midoriya. The man never quite made himself out to be an elegant sort of person or anything but this level of casualness caught Shouto off-guard.

“Oh—!” Midoriya hissed as the person on the screen said something quite stupid. The couple that were on in this episode didn’t have any chemistry. For one thing, they could barely communicate as they spoke different languages.

Shouto counted his lucky stars that he could speak the same language as Midoriya.

Midoriya glanced over, finding Shouto staring dead-straight at his tousled hair. “What is it?” He asked, touching his hair, self-consciously.

“Your hair is….” Shouto began but what else was he to say? “It’s…”

Midoriya waited for an answer but none came. He let out a soft laugh. “You know, I always pictured you as someone who was very eloquent in-person. I mean, that’s how you come off through the emails.”

Shouto pondered this. “But, the night I met you, I was drunk.”

“Yes, but, you were always clear and precise in your messages so I had assumed...well, that’s not to say you’re weird or anything!” He held out his hands in a conciliatory manner. “I’m just surprised at how different you are in front of me.”

“Different? How?”

“You...you stare a lot more at me.” Midoriya looked down with a self-conscious smile. “Do I, um, look odd or something?”

Shouto shook his head. “No, I just—I just like looking at you.” That was too honest, too forward. But he didn’t regret saying it when he saw pink bloom on Midoriya’s cheeks.

“Oh.” He said softly. “Um, okay.”

He looked back at the tv, at the arguing couple. Midoriya didn’t say anything more as he picked up the cartoon of fried rice. But there was something purposeful with his movement now. Almost as if he knew that Shouto was watching him through the corner of his eyes.

It was rude to stare, wasn’t it? Shouto tried to hold back, he really did. He was a little bit more careful after he decided on this edict but he couldn’t help the occasional straying of his eyes. The room was only punctuated by the television noise. The two sat silently there, the quiet charged with something. As if there was something warm in the air itself.

Hopefully, Shouto wasn’t imagining it all.

“Wanna go to the bookstore tomorrow?” Midoriya asked, breaking the hushed atmosphere. “It’s, um...one of my favorite places. Hopefully you’ll like it.”

Shouto paused from eating. “Okay. I’m sure, I’ll like it.”

“You sound sure of yourself.” Midoriya murmured.

“I know what I like.” Shouto said simply. And the comfortable quiet resumed.

They were at a used bookstore the next day.  The place was small and quaint. There were a few benches set out for people to sit on for reading so it was clearly a place meant for people to gather. Even so, given the size of it and the fact that it was tucked away from the main shopping plazas of the area made it so that there weren’t many customers in the store itself. Midoriya was chattering away cheerfully with the man at the front desk. He looked too tired to be working but he tolerated Midoriya’s conversation as if he knew the man before. Did he know Midoriya?

Shouto watched as Midoriya slipped away and came up next to him, shooting him a sunny smile. Sunflowers surely turned his way when he drove by. 

“Do you know him?” Shouto inquired.

“Oh! Yes—he’s actually Hitoshi’s adoptive parent. They’re not related but I swear that Hitoshi somehow inherited Aizawa-san’s bad sleeping habits.” Midoriya said, leading them to his intended destination in the bookstore.

“That’s how Hitoshi got his love for reading.” Shouto mused. “How did you fall in love with reading and writing, Midoriya-san?”

Midoriya laughed. “I know you’ve read interviews with this exact question, Todoroki-kun.” His voice was low and warm—quiet, as loud noises were rarely appreciated in establishments with books. But it had a sweet lilt to it that Shouto recognized as teasing.

“You always say it’s not an interesting story.” He said quietly.

The other man glanced behind with a curious expression. “I’ve just liked books from an early age. I don’t know what else to add to it. There’s sometimes no reason for the things we do.”

Shouto nodded, well aware that some answers were simple. But sometimes—sometimes Midoriya answered him as if the answer was beyond the reach of what he actually said. As if there was a deeper meaning to it all and he was deliberately obscuring the truth from Shouto. It made him feel a tiny bit more lonely to be left behind like this but he was well-aware that he wasn’t privy to every single detail of Midoriya’s life. That simply wasn’t his right after all.

“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya cut in on Shouto’s thoughts, “do you like romance novels?”

Shouto glanced up and saw an oiled-up man on the cover of a book. He was holding a woman by her waist as her hands were splayed against the wall she was pressed up against. Shouto looked around and saw that they were in the romance section of the bookstore.

His bewildered look must’ve given away something as Midoriya laughed once more. “What—too good for the romance genre?”

“What? No, I just—” He closed his mouth, unsure of how to phrase his question. “I never realized you were into romance.”

Midoriya shrugged with a sheepish smile. “I don’t like to advertise it. I mean, I write both literary fiction and thrillers—romance is pretty separate from those two. Hitoshi says that you have to convey a certain image for your market. Besides….it’s a little embarrassing, isn’t it?”

Shouto plucked the book from Midoriya’s hand and read the summary.

“...his touch had become the burning reminder that the fierce hatred she felt for him had become an all-consuming love.” He read aloud. Shouto paused, wondering what to say. “It sounds…..flowery.”

Midoriya let out a snort of laughter. It was a delight to hear the man laugh so much in his presence. Shouto hardly had the personality of a comedian—Kyouka had told him on many occasions to ‘lighten up’—so it was gratifying to hear the man could have fun at all with him. Now, he got why Kyouka would go on and on about some person that often annoyed her at work in an overly hyperbolic way in order to get Momo to laugh. If only he had her skills of story-telling.

“Oh, it is. These books are just...so much. It’s loads of fun to read though,” He took the book back from Shouto and flipped through the pages. “The storyline is predictable, and therefore, relaxing. Because you know that the heroine and love interest will get together at the end.”

“Makes sense.” Shouto nodded. “Should I read one of those stories then?”

Midoriya lifted a brow. “Only if you want to. Although, I’d be interested to hear your thoughts on it. Wait, but—”

He went back to the bookshelves, pursuing them for some particular book he clearly had in mind. Shouto admired the curve of Midoriya's spine. Strange that even the most mundane things on the man were elegant.

“Try this.” He said, handing out a book to Shouto. There was a woman and man embracing and kissing over what looked like a—what was it….a long division sign? The title read as ‘The Kiss Quotient.’ “It was a fun read for me. Hitoshi doesn’t really like romance novels but, maybe you might?”

“I’ll give it a try.” Shouto said, flipping the book over, still surprised by this new side to Midoriya. “How come you never mentioned you like romance novels before? And why now?”

Midoriya bit the insides of mouth, showing off the indents of his (seemingly) soft cheeks. “I don’t know? I guess, it's a little bit easier to be honest when you’re in person.”

“You’ve said the same thing to me over email.” Shouto pointed out. They had talked about their family lives before through their messages and Midoriya had remarked that it was easier to be candid when he didn’t have to see the person in front of him.

“I guess, maybe the emails prepared me to be frank about the smaller things. The things that aren’t really a big deal but, still, also a big deal. You know?”

Shouto nodded, not quite understanding what the man meant exactly but, also realizing that there was something closer between them with this new revealed piece of information. He glanced down at the book. Hopefully he’d like it.

“Did you guys go to Dad’s place?” Shinsou asked, not quite looking up as Midoriya and Shouto walked in. He was lounging on the sofa, flicking through some bundled papers. Perhaps a manuscript?

“Aizawa-san texted you, huh?” Midoriya said, dropping an armload of books on the coffee table. The house, itself, was littered with books, all comfortable with being haphazardly placed around. 

Shinsou took a book from the pile and snorted. “ Confessions of a Mask ? Are you trying to convert Todoroki-kun to your depressing tastes?”

Midoriya smiled sweetly. “Better than your tastes.”

Shinsou chuckled and Shouto envied their easy companionship.

“Oh yeah, that reminds me—are you guys doing anything for tonight?”

Midoriya and Shouto looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Come with me and Denki. It’s about time we all went out somewhere.” Shinsou said, smiling up at Shouto.

His eyes weren’t quite so dull like this. In fact, he was startlingly handsome. It was a shocking realization somehow that this man was Midoriya’s best friend. Did Midoriya have a preference?

“That sounds good! Um, is that fine with you Shouto-kun?”

“Yeah. That’s fine.” Shouto said, snapping out of his thoughts.

A beat of silence.

“How are you enjoying your stay here?” Shinsou asked.

“I like it.” Shouto answered, unsure of how to bottle his emotions into a neat package.

“Yeah? You sleeping alright?”

“As well as one does in a new place.” Shouto said with a shrug. That wasn’t a lie. He used to have sleeping problems but it was never so outrageous that he couldn’t handle them. He was only getting around five hours in Shinsou’s house which was doable for the time. Those hours would catch up, but it likely wouldn’t happen until a week or two.

And he’d be gone by then.

He wasn’t looking forward to it. But he couldn’t think of that now. Not when Midoriya was here, in the present. Even if he had less than a week, he had to make do with the remaining time. He couldn't overstay his welcome, after all.

“Good, good.” Shinsou hummed, picking up the swaths of paper once more, having done his duty as a good host.

Midoriya rolled his eyes fondly. “Come on. Help me take these books to the guest room. We can read until the evening comes.”

Shouto couldn’t have found a better way to spend it.

The four of them—Midoriya, Shouto, Shinsou, and Kaminari—were out for dinner at a Korean BBQ place and found a table that wasn’t quite so secluded. Shinsou had invited them to the place, letting them know he had reservations already and not to bother with takeout. Shouto didn’t mind going along with the plans but he had prepared to spend the night reading in the same room as Midoriya. That was what they were doing after the visit to the bookstore after all.

Shinsou dragged out the two despite Midoriya’s weak protests. Shouto didn’t know if he should’ve stepped in or not. A part of him wished he did.  Midoriya gave the impression that he was uncomfortable as he kept throwing glances at the people passing by and Shinsou was drilling daggers into the doorway as if he expected someone in particular to show up. But who would show up? Kaminari seemed most comfortable with the situation as he was the one cracking the most jokes.

The waiter stopped by with their second plate of meat that Shinsou immediately whisked away and set to cooking. He hardly let the other three at the table do anything stating that the others couldn’t be trusted with such a task. Shouto didn’t mind—he wasn’t the best at these sorts of places. (Usually it was Kyoka taking over the task of cooking meat as Shouto and Momo sat back like royalty. Or at least, that was how she put it.)

People kept passing their table as they sat close to a window. Midoriya had been tense at first but relaxed as the minutes trickled by. He kept glancing at the people walking by—both inside the restaurant and outside on the busy streets. Shouto was sitting at the side near the aisle and found that Midoriya-watching was a far superior activity when compared to people-watching.

“A literature major, huh?” Kaminari swished his beer. “I was a high school drop out, myself. School’s really not it for me. I’m sorta jealous of the people that know how to get through it.”

“And yet, you’re doing fine as is. You’re surviving,” Shinsou said, putting some cooked meat onto his plate. The scent of cooked meat was mouth-watering and was the only thing stopping him from continually taking glances at Midoriya. Hopefully he was subtle. “Besides, I doubt Todoroki-kun would judge. Right?”

The question held a certain edge to it as if daring Shouto to disagree. But of course he wouldn’t. “School’s not for everyone. My older brother struggled with it a lot since he has dyslexia.” Toya struggled with a great deal of things as that was only the tip of the iceberg. But Shouto knew that spilling your guts about your uncomfortable family situation was frowned upon.

Midoriya appeared to want to say something but Kaminari interrupted. “Dyslexia? That’s what I have!”

Shinsou chuckled. “Funny that I’m dating someone who doesn’t read. I vowed I’d never do that when I was younger.”

Midoriya smiled. “Guess love sees past all barriers, huh?”

“Oh yeah, the barrier of not reading every book I like is a huge one.” Shinsou smiled at Kaminari. “The plus point of this is that I never have to disagree with him on the books I liked and hated.”

“Did you two ever have disagreements?” Shouto asked Shinsou and Midoriya.

“More than you’d think,” Midoriya said, his sigh exasperated, yet fond. “He dislikes thrillers and horror as much as I like them.”

“But you watch a lot of horror movies with me?” Kaminari said to Shinsou. His cheeks were stuffed with the food that was piling up on his plate (courtesy of his boyfriend).

“Books are completely different. I just don’t have the patience for the build-up, especially since the focus is often on the situation, not so much the characters.” Shinsou swirled his sake cup. “That’s not to say there's not plenty in the genre that does work.”

“Like ‘I’m Thinking of Ending Things.’ That one you liked, right?” Midoriya came off as a lot more relaxed like this. The collar of his button-up shirt was unbuttoned and tantalizing skin poked through. Midoriya, himself, leant forward on his elbows with a boyish charm that made him appear younger than 30. His attention was on Shinsou, clearly gearing up for a friendly debate. But even if the conversation was engaging, Shouto found his gaze drawn to Midoriya, rather than Shinsou.

Shinsou made a face. “Are you kidding? I hated that one!”

Midoriya scrunched his nose in confusion. “What? Why? It was good, wasn’t it?”

“The ending was just as bad as any ‘it was all a dream’ type of story.” Shinsou groaned. “And of course you liked it.”

Midoriya laughed. “Don’t lie, you know it was more nuanced than that.”

“Sure, the conversation he posed was interesting. But the way it was explored was not.” Shinsou glanced over at Shouto and Kaminari with an appraising air. “Hey, neither of you guys read the book, right?”

“Nope.” 

“No.”

“Alright, a thought experiment then. Say you’ve been alone for a long time. You know this to be true and you’re wondering whether or not this will be your life forever.” Shinsou paused for a moment, his eyes darting over to Midoriya. “The loneliness is unbearable. So you take up a relationship with someone else. But the possibility of it ending is always looming over the horizon. Do you still enter this relationship knowing that it’ll someday end? That you’ll be returned to that state of loneliness you hated so much?”

“Yeah.” Kaminari answered fast, before Shouto could even consider the question. “Even something temporary is better than being alone, right?”

“Really?” Shinsou smiled. “Even if each time a relationship ends, it leaves you broken? You still think you could keep going?”

“I—I don’t know. I’ve never had a breakup like that before.” Kaminari picked at the food. “I mean—”

“I keep forgetting how young you are, Denki-kun,” Midoriya said, sighing. “You’re only twenty, right?”

“Yeah, but—but I mean, I just don’t get how one relationship ending means closing the doors to everything else.” Kaminari turned to Shouto suddenly. “You agree, right?”

“I do,” Shouto said. He didn’t know what else to add.

Midoriya hummed. “I don’t think it’s that obvious. Sometimes just being left behind is unbearable. We often want good relationships to just continue forever—whether it’s familial, platonic, or romantic. I can see that the book was trying to explore what it would be like if you had none of those.”

“Then would you consider ending things?” Shinsou's gaze was trained on Midoriya now. His gaze was piercing, sharp. “If you didn’t have any of that, would you do what the narrator did?”

Midoriya was quiet before breaking out into a sheepish smile. “It’s hard to even imagine being in such a position.”

Kaminari glanced over at Midoriya, expression uneasy. Midoriya looked surprisingly okay with the topic at hand. Was it common for Shinsou and Midoriya to discuss such things with each other? “Alright then, think about this. No matter your efforts in life, you always come back to square one: you’re left with no one. Would you consider ending things? Would death be the best alternative?” Shinsou posed the answer to the rest of the table.

The table was quiet for a moment. Shouto was the first to speak up. “The answer is obvious, isn’t it? Life without relationships is impossible. It’s not even something you can try.” He’d been isolated even within his family. But that loneliness hadn’t been permanent. He had his friends—Momo and Kyouka—and the few family members that did try to reach out. To not have them—it wasn’t something he could imagine. “But even so, It’s better to have something even if it’s temporary. Better to try than to just give up.”

“Alright, I’ll take that. The story had a different viewpoint.” Shinsou piled some meat onto the metal grates. “The ending was shit.”

“I don’t agree.” Midoriya said, observing the waiters and waitresses pass by. “I think it was dramatic, yes, but it was realistic in the pain that the main character went through. I don’t think the story necessarily condones the main character’s actions. Just that, being alone is too unbearable to live through.”

“But that’s grounds for ending your life?” Shinsou interjected.

“Wait, what?” Kaminari seemed startled.

Shinsou turned to the blonde. “The main character ends his life after realizing that he’ll always be alone even after conducting his thought experiment.”

“Is that what the story was about?” Kaminari appeared mystified.

“More or less,” Shinsou said with a shrug. “There was a lot more in it than that. They were playing around DID which, truth be told, I’m pretty tired of seeing the disorder in thrillers. I swear, every other book has that as a trope. God forbid you think once about the people that actually struggle with it.”

“Preaching to the choir.” Midoriya chuckled softly and glanced over at Shouto, catching his eye in the lighting of the restaurant. “By the way, Shouto-kun, I never expected such an answer from you.”

“That’s what therapy gets you,” Shouto said with a shrug. Midoriya let out an open laugh and Shouto's heart soared once more.

Kaminari fixed his gaze onto Midoriya. “Izuku-san, did you ever feel like that?”

Midoriya froze. “Like what?”

Kaminari opened his mouth to clarify his question, but Shinsou cut him off. “Did you want to order some chicken or more steak?”

“Steak!” Kaminari was thoroughly distracted.

Shouto saw the tension release in Midoriya’s shoulders. The dinner continued. And that was that.

“Are you really quitting writing because of your ex?”

Shouto and Midoriya were back at Shinsou’s condo, but without their other two companions. Shinsou and Kaminari wanted to go to a club and it appeared that their tradition was for Midoriya to drop them off and pick them up later. Shouto was glad not to go with them. He didn’t enjoy loud places much and he was happy to share that trait with Midoriya.

They were in Midoriya’s room now, sorting through piles of books that Midoriya collected over the years. Apparently, he wanted to get rid of his less favorite novels and thus, Shouto was allowed to take whatever he wanted from the ‘donate’ piles.

“I—” Midoriya was at a loss for words. “I-I don’t know what you want me to say to that.”

Shouto furrowed his brow. “The truth?”

Midoriya’s gaze was on his hands as he stayed quiet for a moment. Shouto didn’t say anything, unsure of what else he could add to get Midoriya to open up to him. Did he even have a right to pry?

“It’s not that simple,” he said weakly. “There’s more to it than that.”

“Okay,” Shouto agreed. And turned over a book in his hand.

The silence was suffocating, but Shouto wasn’t sure what Midoriya was really feeling. He couldn’t tell. It wasn’t like he could read Midoriya’s mind no matter how much he wanted to. (Was that what love was like? Wanting to know the other person’s every thought? Every breath? Every choice?)

“Shinsou was just saying things.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not like I didn’t consider this before.”

Those words appeared off, but Shouto agreed anyway. “Okay,” he said, once more, like a broken record.

“I just—it was time for me to stop.”

Midoriya still wasn’t looking at him, but instead at the book in his hands. Shouto glanced over and found that it was a book he didn’t recognize. “What’s that book about?”

“Oh this?” He asked, turning it over in his hand. He showed the title to Shouto. Alone, E.J. Noyes, it read. “It’s just a book I found a while back. It’s about a woman who is enlisted for an isolation experiment in the woods. She then comes across a hiker and falls in love.”

“Romance?”

“Yeah.” Midoriya shot him an amused smile. “Is it really a surprise to you that I like the genre?”

“I just thought...that I knew everything about the writer-you.”

Midoriya regarded him for a moment before switching topics to the book, neatly brushing aside Shouto’s intimate confession. (He was thankful for that—it was a little too close to the truth after all). “It’s a strange premise for a romance novel. But it got to me, I’ll admit that.”

“What did you like about it?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t always buy the chemistry, but I guess it was nice to see the main character—who was struggling with loneliness for most of her life—finally find someone. It was as simple as that.” Midoriya leaned back and handed the book to Shouto who flipped it over to read the synopsis. “I think romance is nice because it gives us a nice bow on things that don’t exist in real-life.”

Shouto didn’t say anything, still reading over the words on the back of the book; ‘ But what’s real? Celeste’s reality may lie somewhere between the absolute truth and a carefully constructed deception.’ What does this mean?”

“Oh, it's just that well, she begins to question her romantic relationship with her lover part way through the story, so it’s just her coming to terms with that, I suppose.” The answer was deceptively downplayed. “She finally figures out that Olivia does love her and they have their happy ending.”

Was that bitterness Shouto detected in Midoriya’s voice? “Did you not like the ending?”

“What? No! No, I liked it! It was just—” Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck. “Things are rarely so straight-forward in the real world.”

“A story has to end so sometimes endings are happy.” Shouto said, echoing the words of his first English professor.

“I know that, but I wish life were like a story. By that, I mean I wish there was something to make sense of.”

“Midoriya-san, forgive me for saying this, but your stories were rarely uncomplicated. In fact, I’m pretty sure a bunch of reviewers were praising the complexities of your thrillers.” Shouto brushed his hand over the book. He’d have to keep this one too to see what Midoriya saw in it.

Midoriya laughed. “You’re not wrong but there’s still a point to everything in a story. In fact, even a red herring in a mystery has a purpose. It’s to throw the reader off, right? Editors always tell their writers to cut out pointless story beats and slim it down to its very core to make it a worthwhile reading experience. I know Hitoshi gets mad if I ramble too much in a chapter.”

“But real life isn’t like that,” Shouto concluded. “We have plenty of days that don’t contribute to anything.”

“Right. We go through day-by-day trying to live. Some make meaning through religion, others through purpose, and a few, through pleasure. I think that’s what ultimately makes life livable.”

“There’s a ‘but’ somewhere in there, right?” Shouto asked.

“Yeah.” Midoriya’s smile was melancholic and Shouto wished he could brush away the emotions sitting on his lips. “Sometimes, I tried to make sense of my hardships by saying that these things would contribute to a better story. That these things would make me a more well-rounded storyteller. That my suffering would have a point.”

“Midoriya-san, Shouto hesitated, but didn’t say anything else.

Midoriya curled in on himself. “I wish I could’ve gotten something out of the things I went through. But I’m at the end of my rope. It’s too tiring to relive these moments over and over again in my writing.”

Shouto stayed quiet. He then asked, “What happened?”

A beat of silence before Midoriya let out a sigh. “Let’s go to the living room.”

The room was quiet as Midoriya busied himself with the tea kettle. It was far too late for coffee, but Shouto would’ve taken anything from Midoriya if it was made by him.

“Here.” Midoriya set a mug of tea before Shouto. “It’s rooibos. That’s fine, right? It’s all we have at the moment. Hitoshi and I aren’t big tea drinkers and Denki-kun prefers his energy drinks.”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you.” Shouto took the mug and inhaled the warm steam. Then set it aside to let it cool for a bit. He looked toward Midoriya, waiting for the other man to speak, but for now, he’d take this moment in, appreciating it for everything that it was worth. Who knew when he would see Midoriya again?

“U-Um, Todoroki-kun, how long have we known each other?” Midoriya was fidgeting with his drink.

“5 years, give or take.”

“Right. U-Um, this is a little hard for me, but do you—do you really want to hear the whole thing?”

“Yes,” Shouto said. There was nothing more he wanted than this. To figure out the mystery that was Midoriya. To make a map of his story that would mirror the stars.

“Forgive me for asking this, but why?”

“Why?” Shouto frowned. “Why what?”

“I just—I’m at a point where I can’t find it in myself to share these personal things if they don’t mean something to someone. But at the same time, I’m missing what I need in order to share. D-Does that make sense?” Midoriya ran a hand through his hair. “I just want to share this story with you and I don’t at the same time. I really want to. But I feel as though I need a reason.”

“A reason to tell me,” Shouto mused.

“Yeah! For Hitoshi, I told him everything because it was affecting my work. I suppose I could tell you because you like my writing, but—”

“Midoriya-san, is ‘being friends’ not enough?” Shouto stared at Midoriya. Was their friendship all in his head?

“Friends? T-That’s right, we’re friends.” Midoriya peered down at his cup. “Would we still be friends i-if I wasn’t a writer?”

Shouto was quiet, considering the question. But his silence must’ve dragged on too long as Midoriya’s face fell. “Wait, no—I was just wondering how we’d meet if it wasn’t at a writer’s conference.”

Midoriya gave him a wan smile. “Maybe, it’d be the same way. Maybe I’d be a reporter at the same event we originally met at, but instead of meeting me as an author, you’d meet me as an editor or reviewer or something of the like. And then maybe we’d talk.”

Shouto didn’t say anything as he tried to recall how the night had gone. His brain had been addled by the alcohol so he had been more forward than usual. But he was forward because Midoriya was the author he admired the most—because he wrote things that so succinctly put the trauma into words that Shouto was only then able to process. What other reason would they have talked?

They ran into each other at that moment. If Midoriya hadn’t picked up writing, then they wouldn’t have met. What other chances would the universe have given them to come into each other’s lives? Would Shouto have noticed the blessing that Midoriya was, had it not been so obvious?

“Maybe we could’ve been classmates or something. I think if we were the same age, we’d have a lot more in common and I wouldn’t feel so…” Midoriya trailed off, leaving Shouto to his thoughts.

He couldn’t imagine it. (He knew he lacked imagination to begin with.)

“Todoroki-kun? You haven’t, um, said anything.” Midoriya said, tapping his foot in a nervous staccato.

“I don’t know, truthfully.” Shouto swirled the dark red-amber liquid in his tea cup. He ghosted a palm over the cup, feeling the heat emanating from it. “Your writing saved me. Without it, I would’ve been a different person. Maybe someone that wouldn’t pay attention to others.”

“I see.”

Shouto saw unshed tears floating in Midoriya’s eyes. For a moment, he was frozen by the emotion on the other man’s face. Reverence stirred up in him as he realized that he was privy to a face that surely was rare to the public eye. But then, reality crashed down.

“Midoriya-san, I—” 

“Todoroki-kun, do you know what that sounds like to me?” Midoriya’s eyes scrunched into a glare. The tears still held, on the brink of escaping. “You said that we wouldn’t be friends in another universe. That makes it sound like you only care about my job!”

“That’s not true. I just meant that your writing saved me.” Shouto was grasping for words. Wasn’t it obvious how significant Midoriya was to Shouto?

“You’d have been fine without me,” Midoriya sighed. “A book couldn’t have helped much.”

“I needed it, Midoriya-san. You don’t understand how much I needed your writing.” Shouto’s voice was pleading as he set aside his tea.

“But that doesn’t—” Midoriya buried his face in his hands. “That means, I have no value to you outside of writing. Just like I do with Hitoshi. I don’t—”

But they were friends now, weren’t they? “Midoriya-san, what I meant earlier is that I couldn’t envision how we would’ve met if it weren’t for your writing. Not that I was ever averse to you without the label of ‘author.’ You’re an important friend.”

There were other underlying feelings at work here too, but Shouto wasn’t about to bring it up just yet. 

Or maybe?

“A-And, you’re important in other ways too.”

Midoriya chewed at his lips, considering Shouto’s words. He opened his mouth and closed it before he finally continued. “I know. You’ve told me I’m your favorite author.”

“Not just that.” Shouto stood up, his palms clammy. Was it right to do it at this moment? A voice in his head (that sounded a lot like Momo) told him to go for it. 

Remember, Shouto! You have to win him over with your prince-like appeal!

Shouto walked over to the couch and knelt on one knee before Midoriya. He took the man’s hand—they were rough and calloused. Unusual for a writer, but Shouto was only more charmed by this new fact about Midoriya. (Would he still be able to learn more about Midoriya after today?) From this distance he could tell there was a blush crawling onto Midoriya’s face that was slowly melting away the upset into embarrassment. 

“W-Wha—”

“Midoriya-san, feel free to reject me or whatever you like, but I need to tell you this.” (Stare into his eyes and knock his socks off with your feelings!) “You may have started off as my favorite author, but you evolved into something more. A friend and then a—”

“Stop!” Midoriya pulled away so abruptly, a coldness overtook Shouto. “A-Ah, no Todo—no, I mean, Shouto-kun, I don’t think you should say what you intend to say because—”

“But—”

“I’m not good enough for you!”

Silence reigned between them. Shouto watched this wonderful, perfect man before him and felt truly lost.

“What?”

“I-I mean what I say. I mean you only like me because I’m a writer, anyway.” Midoriya sounded petulant. If it wasn’t for the fact that this situation was stressful, Shouto would’ve found him adorable.

“I was drawn to you because of your books, yes. But I started to like you after we began emailing each other,” Shouto said, still kneeling. (Was he supposed to keep kneeling? The Momo in his mind said yes, while the Kyouka in his mind said no.)

“T-That was only an email correspondence! How could you really get to know someone through that?”

“We were emailing each other for five years, Midoriya-san. You know about my struggles with my father and you told me about yourself growing up. I don’t know. I wouldn’t tell just anyone those things.”

“I-I know.” Midoriya was quiet. He stood up and held out a hand to Shouto who gratefully accepted it. Midoriya pulled him up and they were standing before each other. 

Midoriya was studying his face now. Shouto didn’t break eye contact. He held them and let the intimacy of being seen wash over him. Midoriya was really looking at him now. He was grateful.

Midoriya spoke up after a moment of silence. “Shouto-kun, I don’t think I’m the right person for you. You should be with someone else.”

“I don’t need anyone else,” Shouto said. “I don’t mean that I need you to—to reciprocate. But I wasn’t waiting for a relationship in the first place. I’m fine as is.”

Midoriya laughed softly. He brushed past Shouto to the loveseat that Shouto had just been occupying. He sat down. “You’re stronger than me.”

“What?” Shouto blinked. He took Midoriya’s sad smile as an invitation to sit beside the man.

“It’s true that I’m ending my writing career because of my ex-boyfriend.” Midoriya let out a sigh. “Although, it’s a little bit more complicated than that.”

“What happened?” Shouto tried not to feel jealous of this man who was so capable of influencing Midoriya that he could stop him from writing.

“You remember me mentioning Shindo Yo, right?”

“Not often.” Midoriya rarely talked about his boyfriend through their emails even though he would litter messages with mentions of Hitoshi, and others in his life. Hell, Shouto even knew the names of Midoriya’s psychologist and psychiatrist. Truthfully, he never thought of the man unless he was brought up in passing. “I never asked because I was jealous.”

Midoriya laughed. It sounded a bit more open, if charmingly bashful. “O-Oh, wow. You just said that.”

Shouto shrugged. “You know now. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

“R-Right. Well, um, I guess the reason for that was that he wasn’t very kind to me,” Midoriya said, brushing aside Shouto’s declaration as if it didn’t affect him. (Even so, Shouto could still make out a light pinkness on Midoriya’s soft cheeks in the dim lighting. He counted this as a victory.) “A-And, our relationship wasn’t good. It affected me. A lot.”

“What do you mean?”

Midoriya gazed at his hands. It was as if he was trying to keep them completely still. But when he glanced away, Shouto could see a slight tremble run through them. “I don’t know if I can say anything more than that. It’s hard to even think of him. I started writing first to parse the emotions of my childhood, then my middle school years and then...him.”

Shouto thought back to the books he read by Midoriya. “The book about the abusive relationship—the third one—was based on your relationship with him,” he guessed.

“Y-Yeah. It was. I never really told anyone what happened. I didn’t even tell Hitoshi. I just wrote about it and turned it into a book. I think—I think Hitoshi suspected it then, but all that happened was that the book got published.”

Nausea climbed up his throat. He read that book. He had received a signed copy from Midoriya and kept it as his most prized possession. “How accurate was your experience to the story?” He asked quietly.

Midoriya chuckled. Despite the sweet laugh, Midoriya’s fingers were tightly clutching at his knees, as if letting go would mean that his legs would run away from him. “There was never any mysterious letter in my life. Never any story that I could sum up succinctly. Just a toxic relationship. A relationship that had been unsalvageable for a long time that I— I couldn’t let go.” 

“He hurt you like the man hurt his wife in the book, though. That’s what you’re saying right now,” Shouto asked, trying to reign down the swirling emotions in his body. It was difficult to control, but it didn’t show in any way other than him gripping his knees.

“Yeah.” Midoriya then paused, observing the ceiling light. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly before opening them once more. The quietness of the moment didn’t take anything away from the discomfort coursing through Shouto. “Yeah he did. And it took me too long to realize what was happening. By the time I realized, it was too late,”

“Too late for what?” Shouto asked. Too late to fall in love again? Was Shouto too late?

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I said that. Don’t mind me.” Midoriya shot him a soft smile. “Thanks for listening to me. You’re the only person I’ve told this to besides Hitoshi and my therapist. I don’t think Denki-kun’s heard the story from my mouth.”

Shouto didn’t comprehend. “Is that why you won’t accept my confession?”

Midoriya blinked and then blushed. “That’s what you have to say?”

“No. I want to say other things. But I don’t think you’d like them very much.” Shouto tightened his fists. “Unless you’re fine with threats toward your ex-partner.”

Midoriya stared. “I don’t know what to make of you. I thought you would—”

“How did you think I would react?” Shouto asked. “I don’t—I’ve liked you for years. And to know that you were being hurt all this time is—I don’t know what to do or say. I feel—”

“Helpless?”

Shouto nodded.

Midoriya sighed. “Hitoshi said the same thing when he first found out. He was angry at Yo, angry at me, most importantly angry at himself.”

“Would you have taken me if you had known I was interested in you all those years ago?” Shouto knew this line of questioning was dangerous, but the words slipped out from his mouth before he could stop himself.

“W-Wha—I, Shouto—! You can’t ask me those things. Besides, there’s the age difference to consider and all,” Midoriya said all while Shouto tried not to let the insecurity of not being in the right age range get to him.

“Besides that.”

“U-Um, I don’t know? I was dating Yo on-and-off during those years, so...” Midoriya trailed off.

Shouto nodded. He gazed up at Midoriya. “I’m not hearing a ‘no’.”

Midoriya squinted at him. “Were you always like this? I swear, you never came off this way through the emails.” 

“I think it’s easier to understand you in-person. I never was entirely sure if you liked me very much, but to have you before me—I think I get it. You just don’t know how to accept another person’s affection.” Shouto eyes drifted to the side. “Or maybe I’m misreading things.”

“I…” 

Shouto waited for Midoriya to continue, but nothing else was said.

“Midoriya-san, what will you do now? I thought writing was the way you processed your emotions. What will you do without it?”

Midoriya chuckled humorlessly. “There’s this poem called ‘Do You Consider Writing to be Therapeutic?’ It’s about the speaker’s relationship with their father’s death and how they keep re-living the moment they find about that tragedy when they write. It’s not that writing can’t be therapeutic. I just—I just keep holding onto Yo because of it. When I first started writing, it was just a way of processing the world. But then it became a way of processing him . And now. Now everything I write is tinged with a part of him.”

Shouto noted how Midoriya’s hands shook for the slightest moment before they righted themselves on his knees.

“I’m tired of this. I’m tired of being this person who’s so deeply affected by a man that doesn’t respect me. I don’t want to keep going back to him even if going back to him involves writing.” Midoriya’s gaze appeared lost. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But I suppose it’ll involve lots of therapy.”

The silence that fell between them was difficult to characterize. Shouto knew he couldn’t ask Midoriya to return to writing if this was the reason why. Asking for anything more would be selfish. If the man was hurt by writing, then Shouto could do without all the books in the world.

“Okay. That sounds like a good plan,” Shouto said, wishing he had more to add. If Momo were here, she’d know how to better comfort Midoriya.

Why don’t you try giving him a hug or holding his hand? The Momo in his head said.

He reached out and grasped Midoriya’s hand. The other man started, but then let his fingers lace through Shouto’s hand. Shouto could feel the rough calluses and he had to resist the urge to trace them. This wasn’t his moment to enjoy. It was supposed to be for Midoriya.

Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it.

“Are you disappointed?” Midoriya asked quietly.

“No. I could never be disappointed in you Midoriya-san.”

“Even knowing I’m a weak person? Even if I quit writing?”

“I don’t think you’re weak. You’re just doing what’s right for you.” Even as he said this, Shouto couldn’t deny the disappointment that coursed through him at the prospect of no longer reading Midoriya’s works. At least he was holding his crush’s hand. If he had to trade such a thing for this, then so be it.

“Can we stay like this for a bit longer?”

“Yes. I—yes. Whatever you want,” Shouto murmured. He sensed a weight on his arm and saw that Midoriya was now resting his head against him.

They were quiet for a bit before Shouto found it in him to ask, “Why did you tell me this?”

“Hm? I thought you wanted to—”

“Yes, I know I asked but. But I thought you would’ve ignored me. It seemed difficult for you to talk about it so I’m just wondering if that means anything.”

Midoriya didn’t say anything and Shouto worried his lips, anxious at the thought that he had overstepped. 

“You know when we first talked you just….listened to me. And I know it’s because I’m your favorite author and whatnot but I suppose I just saw it as you trying to hear what I’m saying. It stuck with me. I saw that and I suppose I selfishly wanted to keep someone like that around me.”

“You thought of yourself as selfish for wanting someone to listen to you?”

The other man huffed. “When you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

Shouto inclined his head so that his cheek was resting against Midoriya’s soft hair

Shouto didn’t smile, but he was now closer to contentment than he ever had. He glanced down at his joined hands before closing his eyes.

The door slammed loudly and Shouto jumped up in alarm. He heard some giggling and murmuring from the entrance. Shinsou and Kaminari were likely back. Shouto looked beside him and found that Midoriya was blinking back bleary eyes. The clock indicated that it was nearly 5AM—ridiculously early morning. Had he fallen asleep beside Midoriya on the couch?

Better yet, Shinsou and Kaminari were out the whole night? Why and how??

“Oh, you woke them up.” Kaminari giggled, clinging onto a flushed Shinsou. Both their hair and clothes were askew and Shouto could tell—even with his relatively limited social perception—what had happened.

“Did not….” Shinsou slurred, dragging over Kaminari to the couch, only to flop onto Midoriya.

“Did too.” Midoriya hissed, as Shinsou’s weight draped over him. “But, it’s probably for the best. The couch isn’t comfortable to sleep on.”

“We should all sleep on the couch!” Kaminari exclaimed, throwing himself across the three of them. Shinsou groaned under the weight.

“I don’t think so.” Midoriya said with a laugh. “Shouto-kun, can you help Denki-kun to his bed? I’ll take Shinsou. Oh, but let’s get some water in them, because they’ll be unbearable in the morning, otherwise.”

Shouto nodded and easily picked up the light blonde and slung the other man’s arm over his own shoulders. Midoriya did the same with Shinsou with a similar amount of ease. Impressive, considering Shinsou didn’t look as light as Kaminari.

He dragged Kaminari to his shared room with Shinsou. He laid the man down and was about to leave before Kaminari caught his wrist. “Hitoshi…..don’t leave me….”

Shouto started. “Oh, I’m not—”

Kaminari blinked. “Todoroki? What are you doing here?”

“I’m gonna get you water.” Shouto said, deeming an explanation unnecessary.

“Hey, wait. Did you talk to Izuku-san?” Kaminari said, with a seriousness that didn’t fit a drunk man. “You gotta talk to him.”

“Talk to him about what?”

“About his boyfriend!! Izuku-san is so nice but, like, it’s totally not real…..”

“What?”

Kaminari’s fingers slipped away and fell back on the bed. “Izuku-san doesn’t—he’s not nice on purpose. Not like Hitoshi.”

Shouto watched him a bit before getting up. “I’m gonna get you, your water.”

“Wait, no! This is important!” Shouto waited for Kaminari to say something else. “I just...please be good to Izuku-san. His boyfriend sucked.”

“I am. Or—I try?” Shouto scratched his cheek. “I try.”

Kaminari nodded seriously. “I’m rooting for you.” His blonde locks shifted against the pillow and Shouto could see the exhaustion on his face from a night of being out. How he did it, Shouto didn’t know. But that sort of energy would’ve been useful for Shouto when he was studying for an important final.

“Midoriya-san treats you differently…” He trailed off, closing his eyes. Shouto waited, and to his disappointment, found that the blonde had fallen asleep.

Shit, he needed to get Kaminari his water.

He went out in the kitchen, determined to get Kaminari his water. Was Midoriya’s treatment of Shouto so different that even his friends noticed? Hopefully, this was the case. Then, perhaps, he’d have a chance.

Shouto went to sleep after getting Kaminari his water. Shinsou was to sleep on the couch so as to not disturb Kaminari with his own drunken behavior. Shouto and Midoriya had gotten a fitful amount of sleep the prior night so they slept in until 10AM.

And then it was back to sorting books once more. Albeit, even more quietly this time as to not disturb the other two.

“They stayed out pretty late.” Shouto mused.

“Oh, this is nothing.” Midoriya said with a laugh. “I can’t keep up with them so I don’t even bother.”

“Did you ever go clubbing with them?

“I...did. I usually had Yo come if I went out. But, he and Hitoshi never quite got along and alcohol only seemed to exacerbate the issue.” Midoriya sighed, placing a picture on the picture book piles. It was the smallest stack as neither Midoriya nor Shinsou worked in the children’s books industry. “Yo hated it when I went to clubs. And it was fine with me because I never liked it much, either.”

Shouto stayed silent, aware that this admission meant something to the other man.

“There was so much he didn’t want me to do. I mean, it wasn’t like this in the beginning. But a rule was added every so often, and then it kept piling up….”

“You didn’t like the rules.” Shouto guessed.

Midoriya let out a laugh. “I thought they were helpful. I mean, it was a guide for me to be a good partner. I just could never live up to ever-increasing strict demands. Did you know, he got mad when I answered a text on a date once? I felt bad about it, but then he made it a rule to take away my phone before every date. And then, it was before every time we’d have a private moment. And then, I just wasn’t given my phone, for quite some time…”

Shouto looked down at the books. “How were you emailing me, then?”

“I had my work laptop. He knew I didn’t like social media so he never thought I’d keep in touch with people through emails. My work never interested him enough to check my email, anyway. For that, I’m thankful.” Midoriya gave a rueful smile. “That’s how I got out.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. He’s not in this city, that’s for sure. I suppose if you dug into it, you’d be able to find him, but I don’t want to see him again.” Midoriya glanced toward Shouto. “So, it’s fine if I don’t know.”

Shouto nodded. He didn’t like not knowing. It felt as if this man’s shadow was towering over the two of them. Perhaps, he’d ask Shinsou-san about it. But, maybe not. It might reopen old traumas. He didn’t want to do that to Midoriya.

Tranquility opened up before them once more.

Midoriya finally spoke up after some time. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“I don’t know what I could say. I wish I could’ve helped you, but I don’t think I had the capability to do so back then.” Shouto sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I wish I was an adult sooner.”

Midoriya smiled. “Do you mind the age-gap between us?”

“No! I mean, I wish I had known you earlier so I could’ve helped you. And maybe, you could’ve helped me, as well. I don’t know.” It was a fanciful thought. They weren’t the same age range after all. “It might’ve been like that if we were the same age.”

The other man laughed. “You’re fine the way you are. Or I think we’re fine, this way. Don’t you think so?”

“I thought you were the one that thought you were too much of an old man for me.” Shouto pointed out.

Midoriya smacked him. “I’m trying to be nice here!”

Shouto smiled.  “I like you Midoriya-san.” The words slipped out easily. Now, that he had already stated it before, it felt uplifting to just say it as is. Maybe Kyouka was onto something.

“Oh my god….” Midoriya groaned all while blushing. “I never expected you to be like this.”

“Do you mind? It feels….nice to say.” A thought occurred to Shouto. “I’m not trying to pressure you into anything. I don’t want to come off like your…..yeah.”

“You’re not.” Midoriya said with a sad smile. He looked down at his hands. “Um, Shouto-kun….”

Shouto waited but when it was clear Midoriya wasn’t going to say anything, he prompted, “what is it?”

Midoriya looked at him and shuffled closer. “Should we try?”

Shouto blinked, not moving away from Midoriya as he was enjoying the proximity. “Try what?”

The other man searched for something in Shouto’s eyes and huffed out a laugh. “I’m going to spell this out, aren’t I? I mean….I think we could try dating.”

He could hardly breathe. “What..what made you change your mind?” He asked carefully, not wanting the elation to overwhelm him.

“I don’t know. I guess I feel safe with you. And, you treat me carefully, but not too carefully.” Midoriya leaned in closer and Shouto didn’t pull away. “Maybe, it’s just the fact that you asked about ‘why’ instead of going forward. I like your thoughtfulness. Your kindness. Your gentleness. And just about everything else, too.”

Shouto brought up a hand to Midoriya’s face and stroked it. He looked into the man’s deep green eyes before finally leaning in and kissing him.

Midoriya leaned back. “Yeah. You know what? This could work. I really should stop being afraid and take a chance.”

“Nothing wrong with being afraid. But, I’m glad you’re giving me this. I’m….I’m really glad.” Shouto rested his face on the crook of Midorya’s neck, holding him in a loose hug. “I really like you, Midoriya-san.”

“You should call me Izuku, now that we’re dating.”

“We’re dating?” Shouto asked, pulling back so he could search for a confirmation on Izuku’s face.

“I-if you want?” Izuku said, unsurely. “I mean, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“No, I mean, I want to do what’s comfortable with you.” Shouto said.

Midoriya took his hand. “I’d like it if we took it slow. I can imagine falling for you in the future, but….I just need a little bit of time.”

“I can give you all you need, Izuku-san.” Shouto said, brushing a soft kiss on the stars that dotted across Izuku’s face. Things felt right.