Chapter Text
It was one of the rare occasions in Shouto’s life where he wanted to be early, and of course, he ended up being so incredibly late that showing up was bordering on pointless.
His morning didn’t stray away from the typical pro-hero workday routine. Although his evening patrols were uncharacteristically quiet which, in retrospect, should’ve been a warning because hell erupted ten minutes before his shift was scheduled to end. It seemed like every villain on his quarter decided to spring out of the sewers as if they had a personal vendetta against him. His patrol shift ended up extending deep into the evening, pushing back any previous paperwork he had and then handing him more on top of that. His shift started at 7 a.m. and he only just managed to finish the necessary paperwork, to a frighteningly low standard, at 11 p.m. By the time he’d raced home, showered, and thrown on some appropriate clothing it was 11 p.m.
The U.A. Class 1A ten-year reunion party ended at 12 p.m.
Shouto was so incredibly late.
Midoriya had been texting him updates so he knew the general situation. From the sounds of things: Kaminari and Mina were two shots away from blacking out completely, Kirishima and Present Mic were making ears bleed with their impromptu karaoke contest, Bakugou was bone sober and close to committing arson, Uraraka and Tsuyu were dancing along with Jirou, Yaoyarozu and surprisingly Tokoyami, and Hanta was…well, hot.
Hot enough that Midoriya had felt the need to warn Shouto.
IM: I know I’m dramatic at times but I promise you aren’t ready.
IM: The outfit? The hair? The smile? I’m glad he knows I’m gay because wow. I’d be ready to risk it all.
Shouto had laughed at that.
TS: I’m telling Bakugou.
Shouto didn’t take the warning to heart since he was already so incredibly full of everything which was remotely Sero Hanta. He thought he was safe.
Shouto’s crush on Hanta wasn’t surprising to him, or anyone for that matter. It seemed inevitable when he thought about it now. Shouto had wrecked him during the sports festival, he still felt bad about that to this day, and prompted this strange rivalry between them. Hanta seemed to train extra hard to get revenge on Shouto, he jogged every morning and evening, he lifted weights and called out Shouto to spar anytime he could. There was this competitive edge to his eyes, the need to prove himself which Shouto found himself respecting. So, he entertained him. They spared until they were sweaty and hyperventilating, Shotou didn't call him out for the way his eyes seemed to be trained to him during class either. He wasn't glaring, not exactly. If anything he looked intrigued, and Shotou was more than used to being stared at for the way he looked, so the extra pair of eyes didn't bother him.
He couldn’t pinpoint when or how a semi-hostile rivalry transformed into quiet manga nights and early morning yoga sessions, but he wasn’t going to complain. Hanta was the carefree type, easy to talk to and genuinely friendly to everyone he encountered. He was the antithesis of Shouto Todoroki, at that time, and in being that balanced him so perfectly that he felt as if he’d been walking lopsidedly his entire life.
The peace that Hanta offered Shouto was so simple, so easy, and so attainable that it was frightening.
They spent most nights in each other’s rooms reading, talking about manga adaptations and recommending new stories to each other. Shouto would usually end up falling asleep and he’d always wake up wrapped in Hanta’s favourite blanket, it was so thick it seemed woollen with deep browns and reds intertwined in geometric patterns. It smelt like Hanta too, of soft incense and something that was indisputably herb. They even helped each other study, often venturing into one of the town's cafés and spending all day together half revising and half fooling around.
And Hanta was always so honest. If he felt under the weather he'd say so, if he didn't want to hang out in a large group he'd say so. There were many times when they'd be downstairs in the common room, surrounded by the bustling energy of extroverts. Actually, it was those extroverts that made him self aware of his feelings, to begin with.
*
"The thing is, I don't even understand how." Kaminari was gushing, for what felt like the hundredth time, about how cool it was to work with Shinsou. Kaminari loved all of his friends, but it was rare that he hyperfocused on one for this length of time. Shouto could already see the suspicious glint making its way into Mina's eyes from across the table."It was so cool! one minute it looked like it was all over for us and then bam. He used that mask thing, and literally saved us all from getting decimated."
Shouto was sure he'd never seen Kaminari use so many hand gestures. Then again he rarely joined in with the house activities, so maybe this wasn't as strange as he thought.
Shouto watched as Mina opened her mouth to speak and prepared himself mentally for the interrogation he was about to witness. Luckily, Kaminari's rant and Mina's train of thought was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps entering the living room.
"You two look worn out," Uraraka noted as Kirishima and Bakugou practically fell into the sofa. Kirishima managed to miss Aoyama, but Midoriya wasn't so lucky. He was practically swallowed by Bakugou's heavy, sweaty frame. Not that he minded. If anything, Midoriya seemed thrilled.
Kirishima managed a smile, although his breathing was laboured, "That means we're doing it right. If you're not exhausted and burning up by the end of a workout then it doesn't count."
Midoriya laughed at that. Shouto could just about see the top of his green curls past Bakugou's broad shoulders. "That's very manly of you, Kirishima."
To say Kirishima beamed at the praise would be an understatement. He looked like Midoriya had just handed him the world.
The natural flow of conversation resumed after that. Bakugou pulled himself off Midoriya after a while and decided sitting next to him wasn't the worst thing in the world. Uraraka and Mina were devouring the apple pie Sato had made. Aoyama was being...well, Aoyama. Which meant he was looking up rare cheeses online. Kaminari had started talking to Kirishima about how cool Shinsou was during their training match, apparently forgetting that Kirishima was also on his team.
And Hanta was--
"Wasn't Hanta with you?" Shouto asked, confused. He definitely remembered Hanta mentioning working out with Bakugou and Kirishima at some point. To add to Shouto's confusion, the group just...stopped. They all stopped talking and looked at Shouto, gaping at him as if they were seeing something new and strange. "What?"
Kirishima answered, "He was exhausted after the workout. He showered straight away and headed to bed."
Shouto hummed with understanding, "He has been working really hard recently."
Midoriya caught his eye from across the room. Green eye's glittered in the same way Mina's had which was unnerving, to say the least. Especially coming from Midoriya. He was feral to the bone. Deceptive too. Nobody expected Midoriya to be so nosy, but by god was he. He had to be. He made everything his business in the name of being able to help when he was needed. Respectable? yes. Mildly terrifying? also yes.
"Maybe you should go check on him?" Midoriya prompted. To everyone else his smile must've looked wholesome because they didn't comment on it, but Shouto could tell he was up to something. "You're his neighbour after all."
Despite his suspicions of Midoriya's intentions, Shouto did leave. He wasn't one for big group hangouts anyway, and everybody had come to know that. However, he didn't miss the small whisper of Mina and Kaminari's voices as he ascended the stairs.
"Did he call him Hanta?"
"Not even I call him Hanta--it feels weird in my mouth."
Shouto hadn't even noticed he'd used his first name, but something about it made his body temperature rise with embarrassment. It was a good name, it felt nice to say. That was it.
Shouto realised later that night saying Hanta's name didn't feel the same as calling for Izuku or Katsuki.
*
But of course, no matter how close they became, Hanta wasn’t attainable. As soon as they’d graduated Shouto was swamped with working under Endeavour and Hanta being the naturalist wanted to travel before settling into pro hero work.
*
Hanta had covered Shouto’s eyes and carefully lead him outside the dorms, completely unaware that his kind touch was giving Shouto trouble regulating his temperature.
“Surprise!” He said with a smile, blinding Shouto with the sudden summer light. “She needs some work, but I think it’ll be a fun little summer project.”
Parked in front of the dorms was a chocolate brown Volkswagen Transporter with one flat tire, rusted bumpers, windows that looked like they’d never seen a bottle of window cleaner and one wing mirror hanging on by a thread. Hanta was beaming as if it were brand new.
Shouto wanted to be happy for him, God Hanta deserved nothing but Shouto’s support, but he couldn’t stop thinking—
That is the van Hanta will drive out of my life in.
He was so wrapped up in feeling, in the dread and fear that settled in his stomach and the panic which kept rising and rising until it was burning his eyes and throat that he hadn’t even realized Hanta had been gushing about the van for a solid five minutes, “—I’d put in some real plants but I don’t want to risk them falling over you know, I can’t exactly bust out a hoover and suck up soil from the carpet in the middle of the road. And some fake vines look super realistic, I saw some on Amazon for pretty cheap the other day—god she’s going to look so cosy when she’s all finished!”
He was so so happy, and it made Shouto so so miserable.
“It’s perfect for you,” was all Shouto managed to shake out.
That summer Shouto helped paint that van, rip out and install a new sink and stove unit, he even helped Hanta figure out the ins and outs of getting it insured just encase things went south on his travels. He watched Hanta pin up a map of Japan on the roof’s inside, he listened to him talk about all the places he was excited to go, all the food he was excited to eat, all the trinkets he was going to buy. Shouto’s heart broke that summer more times than he would ever admit, but Hanta was happy…and that was more important. He wasn't sure when Hanta’s happiness became the most important thing to him, but anytime he heard that boisterous laugh or saw the corners of his eyes crinkling with a wide smile Shouto's chest fluttered with a warmth he'd never felt before.
By the time Hanta left Shouto had more than enough work to keep him occupied. He worked hard, too hard according to Mina who he’d ended up getting quite close to over their mutual missing of Hanta. He rose quickly in the ranks and was breaching the top fifteen by the next year. Sero had sent him his congratulations in form of a box of jasmine incense, Shouto’s favourite.
On the occasion that Hanta parked somewhere with a strong internet connection and Shouto had a day off, they face timed each other for hours. Shouto was calmest then, falling back into the natural conversations and teasing as though they’d never stopped talking to begin with. He watched through a screen as Hanta’s hair got longer, as he got taller and more muscled, as he started getting the odd tattoo and piercing. He was changing right in front of Shouto’s eyes, but he was still Hanta. He was still funny, still considerate, and compassionate.
He was still the person that Shouto had realized he'd fallen in love with even if he wasn’t directly in front of him, laughing at how he owned too many cardigans or giving him the vegetables from his plate to make sure Shouto actually ate them. Or cheering on his every win by retweeting every positive pro hero Shouto article he could get his hands on.
The second Hanta had said he was done travelling Shouto suggested they move in together.
*
Hanta looked at him slightly blurry and completely baffled through the screen of Shouto’s laptop, “Are you sure Roki?”
Shouto had never been more certain of anything his entire life, but he didn’t say that “Edgeshot’s agency isn’t far from Endeavour's.” He said, “We can get an apartment somewhere in between and split commute time in half, and it'll be cheaper with two of us paying rent. it just makes sense.”
Hanta couldn’t dispute the logic, so he did one of the things he did best, “I don’t know, are you sure you’ll be able to put up with me? I’m pretty devious.” He joked; a cheeky grin plastered on his face.
In all honesty, Shouto was certain his heart wouldn’t be able to take seeing Hanta day to day. Then again, he was desperate to see him again after a year of scraping by on dodgy Wi-Fi and Snapchat memory notifications. He was desperate to go back to his UA days where Hanta was a stone's throw away at most.
“I’m sure.”
*
They lived together happily for three years. The apartment was homey with warm wood décor, splashes of greenery and plush red bohemian rugs. Shouto got to wake up to the smell of Hanta’s too strong coffee and a soft lo-fi playlist with ocean or forest ambience. If they had time they’d squeeze in a little yoga session, Hanta would always show off his inhuman flexibility just to see Shouto pout. After work they’d collapse into the sofa, or on especially hard days into each other, and watch Mina and Aoyama’s talk show. It was bliss, a slice of heaven. Knowing that he could come home and Hanta would be there to soothe him at the end of it kept Shouto sane.
*
“Rough day?” Hanta had asked one evening after Shouto had stumbled in after a gruelling twenty-hour shift. He was sat on the sofa, one arm draped over the back and a half-empty corona in the other. He was facing the t.v. engrossed in a Spanish drama his sister had recommended. When he turned to meet Shouto’s eyes he was up in a flash, “Holy shit Roki,” he was seeping concern, brows pulled down and tight.
“I’m alright,” Shouto’s voice was evidently strained, “Just—banged my side a little.” He said through gritted teeth, leaning on one of the warm chocolate walls of their apartment, his ice hand cradling his ribs to offer some relief.
Hanta didn’t believe him even for a second, “You need to see a doctor, now. Why weren’t you treated on-site—”
“Really I’m ok, I just need to sit down for a minute.”
Even though he’d gotten better at admitting when he needed help he was still awful at accepting said help. At first, it was because he wasn’t used to…well, being allowed to ask for help. His father had pushed and pushed and pushed him to be strong in a very toxic way, admitting you needed help equated to being weak and there were many things Shouto was but weak wasn’t one of them. He knew better now of course, after all, Midoriya is the strongest person he knows and he’s always actively asked for help with no shame whatsoever.
Accepting help was completely different. He struggled with telling pity and sincerity apart. He feared accepting somebodies help and then them complaining about him later or offering help just for politeness’s sake.
Hanta knew him far too well to fall for whatever façade Shouto would try and hide behind.
Hanta helped Shouto to the sofa, grabbing his elbow and stabilizing his steps with a delicate hand around his bruised middle. He was always so soft with Shouto, so astutely aware of his thoughts and feelings that sometimes it bought Shouto close to tears. As soon as he was comfortably seated, “I’ll run you a bath, don’t you dare move.” His face was rarely stern, but he was so serious that he looked through Shouto in a way that made him shiver and steam up at the same time.
Shouto always accepted help from Hanta, because Hanta didn’t give him any other choice.
He must’ve drifted in and out of consciousness because the next thing he remembered was Hanta putting him into a steaming hot bath in his underwear. He was eternally glad that the room was so hot because it meant Hanta was equally as flushed as he was, albeit for different reasons.
He hissed as his torso stretched into the water, “I’m sorry Sho—” Hanta had mumbled into his hair, lowering him into the tub as gentle as he could. Once he was all in, Hanta settled himself on the edge—grabbing a small jug from under the sink and pouring water slowly over Shouto’s head.
“I can wash myself.” He grumbled, he wasn’t being ungrateful he was just embarrassed. Hanta was so so close, and the lack of clothing was making Shotou's head spin.
Hanta took extra care not to let any water drip down his face, “No, really? I thought every Todoroki came with a personal washer included—” Shouto splashed him weakly, earning a small snort “that’s real mature of you.”
A quiet grin stretched his lips as Hanta lathered shampoo gently into his hair, dull nails scratching his scalp lightly. Shouto couldn’t help it, he fell into the touch completely, he closed his eyes and let Hanta pull his bangs all the way back to reveal the full extent of his scar and forehead. Hanta had never once stared at his scar, Shouto could tell that when Hanta looked at him he was looking into his eyes--nowhere else.
“You gonna start purring?” Shouto could hear the smirk in Hanta’s voice.
“Maybe.”
Hanta’s laugh was light and relaxed as if washing your roommate’s hair while he sat in his boxers in a bathtub was the most natural thing in the world. It wasn’t, Mina would have some choice words about this position for sure, but it felt like it was.
“Don’t stop on my account, purr away.”
Hanta rinsed his hair, making sure he didn’t get a single drop of water or soap anywhere near his scar or his eyes. He kept talking about his day, telling silly stories about Kaminari and Bakugou, he talked about how he'd closed a sizable case against a nasty goblin villain that week, and how he fancied getting a cheeky takeaway to celebrate.
Shouto’s chest was tight, far too tight.
“I will.”
*
Shouto’s fall from heaven was incredibly sudden.
It was their first Saturday off in months and Shouto was excited to spend the day doing absolutely nothing. Hanta was too, he was still full of energy and smiles and snarky comments but the only place that energy was going was toward new manga volumes and his hammock.
They’d gotten maybe four hours of peace. Every so often Hanta would squeal and start rambling about this one thing that had just happened in his manga, it was sickeningly cute how gushy he got about it.
Then the post was delivered.
Hanta’s eyes bulged with pure joy, “Think they’ve given us more takeout menus?” Hanta was the only person Shouto knew who unironically enjoyed getting spam mail. He had a whole drawer filled with different takeout menus from all over Japan at this point. Shouto found it far too endearing.
“I hope not.” Shouto teased, earning himself a pillow to the face as Hanta skillfully rolled out of his hammock and over to the door.
Shouto could hear the shuffling of papers, that quiet satisfied chuckle as Hanta’s collection was no doubt expanded; and then nothing.
He stood in the hallway frozen, staring with wide unbelieving eyes at the white letter addressed to him.
“Hanta?” Shouto did a poor job of hiding the concern rising in his throat as he watched his roommate rip open the envelope. Hanta looked like he was swallowing glass, a horrible twist taking over his mouth for a brief second before it was replaced with something entirely fake. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing—” His smile didn’t reach his eyes at all.
Hanta, the ever so comfortable Hanta, looked incredibly uncomfortable at that moment. He couldn’t meet Shouto’s gaze, couldn’t look at the letter either, he bore holes into the sofa cushions that had tumbled by Shouto’s side.
He looked pained.
“We promised we’d never lie to each other,” Shouto said as he sat on his invisible mountain of half-truths he’d told Hanta throughout the years.
Hanta didn’t know that though and his face softened at the reminder.
“I--uh got a letter from a hero agency in America." He said, "Apparently, they saw me tape up that goblin villain a few weeks back and…” His exhale was shaky, “They’re offering me a position as a sidekick.”
*
Hanta’s leaving party was chaos personified. The charmingly dubbed Bakusquad piled into their shared apartment barely big enough for two. Mina threw up streamers, Kaminari covered every kitchen surface with enough alcohol to kill a village, Kirishima had bought Hanta parting gifts which he gave to him crying, and Bakugou was trying his best to cook up one of Hanta’s abuela's recipes.
“I’m so happy for you- “Mina squealed, “It’s not every day a hero gets picked up from abroad, especially by sheer luck like—god Sero, you’re living everyone’s dreams right now.”
Shouto sat in his usual spot on the sofa, just watching everyone interact. Hanta was smiling, he was blushing, and he was throwing around jokes like he always did; completely unaware that Shouto’s heart was once again being torn from his chest a few feet away.
Hanta was leaving him, again, and Shouto was, once again, fighting the urge to both cry and scream. He couldn’t be selfish, this was Hanta’s future…it’s what he wanted. But Shouto didn’t want him to go. It was laughable that he, one of the most capable heroes of his generation, was completely powerless in his own social life.
“You got everything sorted yet?” Bakugou grumbled from the kitchen, flipping over chunks of perfectly spiced chicken that had everybody’s stomach’s growling.
Hanta sipped his beer, “Kind of. Midoriya said the last of my stuff arrived this morning and I can stay with him until I can find my own place. I feel bad for crashing his style though.”
“He wouldn’t offer if he couldn’t handle it,” Bakugou said, a hint of fondness in his voice.
“Hey, maybe you can use this as an excuse to visit! Long-distance gotta be rough.” Kaminari chimed in.
Shouto had heard far too much about Bakugou and Midoriya’s relationship, mostly from Midoriya’s relentless gushing, and a part of them gave Shouto hope. It was pathetic, really; but if Bakugou and Midoriya could handle a long-distance relationship, then maybe he could too. Sure, Bakugou and Midoriya had known each other for literally their entire lives, but they also went through a few intense rough patches and somehow managed to make it out stronger every time.
He and Hanta didn’t have nearly the amount of baggage. In fact…when Shouto thought about it they’d never even had a proper argument. Sure, they’d squabbled about electric bills and dirty laundry being left out but that was expected when you lived with someone. They’d always made up incredibly quickly, both apologizing regardless of who was to blame.
Yeah…if Midoriya and Bakugou could handle long-distance then maybe Shouto could. He’d have to confess to Hanta for that to happen though, and that idea terrified him far more than any villain ever could.
Bakugou growled around a piece of chicken, testing the flavour, “I don’t need an excuse to visit my boyfriend you dipshit!”
Midoriya had, incredibly predictably, decided to follow in All Might’s footsteps once he’d graduated and took up a job in America. He visited sometimes but never for very long, and his attention was completely glued to his boyfriend the entire time. Not that his attention was ever anywhere other than Bakugou.
As the night progressed, everyone bar Bakugou was drunk in varying levels. Kaminari and Mina were wobbling all over the place, Kirishima was dancing happily to the music on his own with a content smile, Hanta was nursing his third beer and was probably getting a little hazy if the way his eyes kept dragging back to Shouto like a ship looking for a lighthouse was anything to go by.
Shouto wasn’t a stranger to Hanta looking at him, he did it a lot. There were a few times when Shouto had been at the mercy of Hanta’s drunk antics, of those dark eyes raking every inch of him under the comfort of dark corners. That look turned Shouto into a mad man. He knew Hanta was appreciative of his friends in every way, he’d always tell Mina if she looked hot, or tell Kaminari how his ass looked in a certain pair of jeans. That’s just how he was, but he never did that to Shouto. At least, not as graphically. He’d compliment his outfits by saying he looked cozy or cute, and sometimes he’d wolf whistle at him in his hero uniform if they bumped into each other on patrol. It’s not like Shouto wanted Hanta to call him hot or compliment his ass verbatim, but he wouldn’t mind it if he did.
Right now, though, Hanta was looking at him with a dopey grin which reeked a sickening fondness. All Shouto could manage was a weak mouth twitch in return, as he repressed the desire to bask under Hanta’s heated gaze.
Later, when everyone else had left, Hanta asked “How are you feeling?” as he slumped next to Shouto on the sofa. His spine practically melted, leaving him resting his head comfortably on Shouto’s shoulder.
The corners of his mouth lifted, “I only had one beer, I’m not drunk.”
“I didn’t mean, how are you feeling alcohol-wise, I meant how do you feel about…me leaving, again.” There was something lurking underneath his words, but Shouto couldn’t place it.
Maybe if he were a braver man he’d have told Hanta the truth. He'd have told him he didn’t want him to go, that he’d miss him too much, that he didn’t know if he could handle another undisclosed number of years talking to Hanta through a screen.
He settled for, “Mina was right, it’s a great opportunity for you.”
Hanta didn’t settle, “That’s not what I asked.”
Shouto’s breath icy breath caught in his lungs, stabbing him, “I—I’m happy for you.”
Hanta peered at him with an almost disbelieving stretch of lips, his eyes looked watery. “Yeah, you’ve said that before Roki.”
Hanta left early the next morning and he didn’t wake Shouto up.
By the time his eyes had unglued it was mid-afternoon. He rolled over in his sheets as dread settled into his stomach- a horrible sixth sense manifested where he just knew Hanta was gone. He felt sick, if he’d have eaten, he would have bet good money on him vomiting right then and there. He sobbed, cursed Hanta for leaving without saying goodbye, cursed Hanta for being so-so Hanta and perfect. He cursed himself for falling in love with him, for all the sneaky looks and touches and the pining-God the pining, he hated himself for it. He hated that he couldn’t just be happy for Hanta, be the good friend he thought Shouto was.
They still texted each other, still called almost weekly and everything about them was as normal as it had ever been which in retrospect wasn’t that normal. Shouto was hurting, badly. Hanta either couldn't tell which was unfathomable or didn't care which was also unfathomable. It never occurred to Shotou that he bottled his feelings exceedingly well.
They talked about almost everything, almost. Shouto had found out about Hanta seeing other people, getting into relationships, through Twitter trends of all things. Hanta never mentioned anyone other than Midoriya or the pro heroes he was working under to Shouto, and he didn’t know if he was grateful for that.
He didn’t want to think about Hanta smiling that quiet smile for someone else, of cooking for someone else, draping them in his favourite blanket or making them a playlist. And he absolutely couldn’t think about Hanta touching someone else. Shouto quite literally caught fire when he did that. He knew he was jealous; he knew he was seething, and his habit of imagining Hanta with someone else was rotting his brain, but he didn’t care enough to stop it. After all, Hanta was thousands of miles away now and he’d never know anything if Shouto didn’t tell him and or act suspicious when they called each other.
If Hanta ever bought up another person in that way, Shouto would've lost his mind.
He was bitter, so incredibly bitter.
But Midoriya knew about his feelings for Hanta, and he tried his best to soothe him.
IM: I’m serious Sho, he doesn’t like her in that way…he just doesn’t know how to turn her down.
TS: It’s ok Midoriya, I’m not upset.
IM: You literally set an entire apartment block on fire when an interviewer asked you about your opinion on their relationship.
TS: The block was already vacated, nobody was hurt.
IM: That isn’t the point I’m trying to make!
IM: You’re clearly upset, and you won’t admit it. It’s fine to be upset, I’d be more worried if you weren’t upset in this situation to be honest.
IM: But your job is to save and protect people, you can’t afford to lose your mind to this. You’re his friend, can’t you just talk about it? It’s not like he’s going to freak out, he adores you.
He adores you.
Shouto hated how he clung to those words.
TS: Who Sero chooses to fuck is none of my business, I’m not about to make it mine either.
Shouto was pretty sure he’d felt all he could ever feel in relation to Hanta Sero. He’d experienced the giddy butterflies, the blushing and desire to be close to him—to be good for him. He’d swallowed his feelings and sent Hanta on adventures, he’d been selfless, and it had hurt him more than anything else ever had. Then he’d lived with him, was consumed by all his weak little laughs and quiet half-smiles and delicate touches of reassurance. His favourite incense and the sound of him falling out of his hammock at 2 a.m. He’d seen photos of him kissing women, men and he’d screamed and cried until his throat felt like it was bleeding. He’d felt so much, too much.
And yet, he was not safe. He was probably the furthest thing away from safe.
He pushed open the double doors of the hotel’s rented ballroom, eyes scanning the abundance of cheap rainbow lighting and streamers stuck to a vodka-soaked floor. Half of the helium balloons reading UA class 1A ten-year reunion were either wilted or popped.
He'd made it maybe three steps inside before Midoriya called out to him over the sound of some old summer song.
No Shouto was not safe at all; because Hanta was stood only ten feet away in a black silk button-down, the first four buttons undone leaving rippling tanned chest muscles on display, black dress pants so tight Shouto could practically see the outline of his dick. His shaggy mullet tickling broad shoulders, ears gleaming with silver jewellery and Shouto was almost certain he could spot a new patch of ink creeping up his neck. To make things impossibly worse, he was smiling at Shouto—the same goofy excitable grin he’d flash when he managed to pull a real laugh out of him, or when he’d make Shouto blush with a compliment.
Shouto wasn’t even near him yet, and he knew he was going to have to crane his head upward to speak to him directly and—and that was doing things to him.
His eyes focused just enough to see green hair popping out from behind the tank of a man, and smooth lips silently mouthing, “I warned you.”