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“You were the needle in the haystack,” Shouto cleared his throat, suddenly feeling nervous with everyone’s eyes trained on him. He was sweating in places he wasn’t even aware he could sweat from, which was concerning. However, he needed to focus, so he took a deep breath and looked up from the paper clutched between his sweaty fingertips. “I was looking for you when I didn’t even know what I was looking for. My eyes wandered for years, maybe centuries, looking for you, the one person who would understand.”
When Shouto had signed up for this creative writing class, he didn’t foresee himself having to write poetry and then having to read it out loud to everyone. He also didn’t foresee himself falling in love with one of his classmates, either, so there was that.
“The one person who would understand me, who would take my faults as they were and wouldn’t try to change them. The one who would take my scars as they were and wouldn’t try to hide them. The only person who ever saw me for me, and not as my father’s son, or my older brother’s younger one. To be seen, to be heard, to be acknowledged by you is more than I could have ever asked for.”
Shouto looked up from his paper and locked eyes with Hanta across the room, feeling his face heating up at the look his boyfriend was giving him. Hanta’s undivided attention was all he had ever received, and it made him feel like he was on fire and drowning in ice-cold water at the same time.
“If you are the needle in the haystack, I am glad to have had my finger pricked by you, and I would do it again and again if it meant I could be on the receiving end of your smoldering gaze or bright smile, in this life or the next, for eternity.”
Shouto let the paper fall to the side, his eyes still trained on Hanta. The class applauded politely, some harder than others (That was probably Uraraka, she was a bit of a sap, so she ate syrupy romantic stuff like this up). Shouto made his way back to his seat, sliding into the chair next to his boyfriend.
“That was really beautiful, Sho.” Hanta said lowly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it, his eyes wet. “I almost started crying.”
“I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry. It’s just…that’s how I feel.”
“Don’t apologize! Happy tears, I promise!” Hanta whispered back as the next person walked up to read their poem. “Don’t ever say you're sorry for expressing how you feel.”
No one had ever said something like that to him before. Hanta always let him be his genuine self. “I love you.” He couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of him.
Hanta grinned that beautiful grin at him and lifted their joined hands, kissing the back of Shouto’s reverently. “I love you, too.”