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"You're beautiful in the moonlight."
"What?"
Shouto turns to the ravenette from where they're laid out against the dark grass of the Yuuei Dormatory yard. Hanta is already looking at him. His mouth runs dry. "What?" Hanta repeats back to him, looking as innocent as a doe.
"You said I'm beautiful."
Hanta hums softly. The voice comes from the pit of his chest. "I did?"
Shouto simply blinks at him. "I think so." He's so painfully innocent, Hanta has to look away from him and back at the constellatons above so he doesn't turn into an endeared tomato.
The stars don't come close to the beauty of the boy beside him. Shouto remains looking at him, eyes glistening under the shine of the Waning Gibbous. Hanta looks at the moon. It glows bright and beautiful, and for a moment, he thinks it looks just like Shouto's right eye. But then he turns back to him, and immediately the equation is diminished. Nothing comes close to the beauty of the boy beside him.
"Yeah," he sighs, "beautiful."
Statistically, Shouto isn't pretty. He's got downturned eyes, small lips, and half of his face and neck is mangled and scarred from his mother. But Hanta thinks he's the prettiest boy in the whole world. He called him beautiful, because in his mind, he is. Shouto is the caramel to his chocolate, the ice to his green tea, the cloves to his orange. He doesn't have so be there, but Hanta is oh so perfect when he is.
"Impossible."
"What?"
Shouto swallows dryly. Not a gallon of water could cure his cotton mouth. "I can't be beautiful when you're sitting right there."
Hanta turns his head against the grass and their eyes meet. The action is quirck enough to give him whiplash. He stares into those hooded, dilated eyes, which are vastly different from his own deer-caught-in-headlights expression. He stumbles over his words, and Shouto simply watches.
Then Shouto looks away, his gaze flicking back up to the star-filled sky. He's motionless, as still as a godamned statue with his arms folded over his abdomen, and Hanta still thinks he's stunning. "Sorry," he murmurs.
"No." It's all he says, and out of embarrassment, Hanta wishes he could say more, but nothing seems to come to mind.
It's his turn to watch Shouto under the moonlight. Beautiful, he thinks, for probably the millionth time that night. Truly, it's the only word that could describe him. Exquisite, maybe, but that's a bit too formal. Shouto Todoroki is beautiful.
"Did you mean that?"
His neck flexes as he turns. His ear presses flat against the grass, and for a moment, Shouto relishes the feeling of the cool earth against his hot ear. It certainly feels weird for his naturally cold side to feel warm, but he gives it little to no thought. "Of course. I have no reason to lie."
Hanta huffs out in amusement. "Or exaggerate," he quips sarcastically. The moment the sentence ends, he regrets ever speaking, ever even living, because he remembers that Shouto can hardly recognize sarcasm. He winces, and their eye contact falters.
"Especially."
Point stands. Hanta wishes he was dead. Honestly, he feels like he already is. Shouto said it so casually, like it wasn't the most world-rocking remark, and then he has the gull to just look at him with those big heterochromic eyes. Yup, the world is over, Hanta's in limbo.
But then the longer he looks, the more he sees.
Shouto looks at him with pupils big enough to block out the color of his irises completely. They gleam in the moonlight like he's absolutely star struck, and if Hanta weren't so captivated by him, he'd make a Zing joke.
He notices every little speck, flick, or stroke of color. He notices every tremble of his pupil, every twitch of his eyelid. He notices how hopeful Shouto seems to look, and at that moment, he can't hold back the barking laughter escaping from his chest.
"What?" Shouto questions. His eyebrows churn up in confusion, but Hanta can barely see anything through his guffawing. "What's so funny?"
"It's just the way you look at me," Hanta chatters, even through his fit. After a moment of wiping away tears with the ball of his fist, he grins. "It's like you want to kiss me or something."
Then, once again, Hanta direly regrets ever uttering a word.
Shouto hums. It's short, low, maybe even thoughtful if Hanta were to listen to his dreams. "You may be right."
"What?"
"What?"
Do they know how to say anything else?
Hanta desperately attempts (and fails) to swallow the lump of hope in his throat. His hands run clammy, and just as a reflex, he curls and uncurls them by his sides. "You're insane." His voice is spent.
Another hum. Shouto turns back to the stars; he could barely think. Beside him, Hanta lets out a sharp breath. "Perhaps," he mumbles. The differing temperatures within his body rise and fall in their own way, until they level out into a bobbing surface of a cold sweat. He thinks on the remark; maybe he is insane. He certainly felt like it. Hanta made him a (bigger) stumbling statue of awkwardness, and jeez did it keep him up at night.
A moment of tense silence falls over them. Neither of them know what to say, and it's painfully awkward for both. The air hangs thick like a 50lb blanket, and even despite the chill of the late evening breeze, Hanta can feel the back of his shirt dampening with his sweat. He shuffles on the grass for a second, not-so-subconsciously moving closer to the other.
"Maybe we both are."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because-" He cuts himself off, a sudden wave of anxiety crashing over him. It drenches him head to toe, and he freezes, unable to get the rest of his sentence to fall past his trembling lips. He focuses on Aquila within the sky, as if the paper crane would pop out and peck him to death. "Because I think I want to kiss you too."
Shouto turns into an actual stone. His fingers dig into the grass by his sides, and it's something unspoken when small flakes of ice begin to disperse from him. His mind is a giant mess of 'what!' and 'crap!' and it's honestly hilarious when looking at it. There's both nothing and everything running through his mind because he's simply too stunned by the words that played in his ears. Is this insane? Or are they just both hopelessly enraptured by one another?
Rustling against the long grass, Hanta inches his hand closer and closer to Shouto's, until the very tip of his pinky is brushing against his heated knuckles. Shouto begins to shake. Breathing deep and slow, he hesitates, then moves to intertwine their fingers.
It just about kills the both of them.
It's either their palms pressed together and their fingers crossed over each other, or it's the deafening silence between them that hangs in the air like an inevitable curse. If someone speaks, will it fall over them, or will it break completely? The questions scare them too much, they can't take the risk. So they sit. They sit and soak in each inhale of oxygen and exhale of carbon dioxide as they breathe beside each other.
Then Shouto lets his lips curl into the smallest smile, because he knows that Hanta hates silence. He's met with the urge to look over at him, but he ignores it, because this situation is fine enough for him.
"'Roki?"
He hums. There it is. "Yes?"
A beat. "I don't know."
Hanta mentally face-palms. That was probably the stupidest thing he's done that night. How could he be such a big fat dork? He's got to say something now. He can't look like an idiot!
"I've always wanted to do this."
"Do what?"
Shit. He's really got to think before he speaks. "Star-gaze with someone." No backing out. He turns his head against the grass. His bangs fall over his face as he does so, and he has to use his free hand to brush them away. His eyes meet Shouto's, though they're faced away. "Thank you."
"Oh." Shouto breathed. He turns as well, and their eyes fully meet. Hanta watches with a smile as his pupils dilate. "You're welcome."
It's a silent acknowledgement when Shouto's eyes run over his face. Those pupils continue to twitch and pulse, and Hanta can almost see the way they glaze over into a thin glass of something untelligible. Hanta feels almost fascinated. Shouto's eyes look so much prettier when their wet and wide and vulnerable. Shouto looks so much prettier when he's vulnerable.
Hanta doesn't want to look away, but he's forced to when he feels a lick of heat against his wrist. He looks down; Shouto's forearm is red and sparking up. "You okay?" He questions with a soft voice.
Shouto, seemingly surprised by hiw own reaction, inhales sharply and wills away the heat. It doesn't quite leave. "I don't know," he mumbles.
"Talk to me," Hanta whispers, and looks back up to Shouto with a sweet smile. He squeezes his hand, and Shouto squeezes back.
"You make me feel weird."
His voice wobbles, and it's unnatural to hear for the both of them. Hanta looks at him for a moment, his tongue running over his drying lips. "Weird?"
Shouto's hand tightens within his. More frost falls, but it's funny to see, when his face is as red as a ripe strawberry. The eye contact breaks once again when he looks back to the twinkling Lyra. "My mind goes blank whenever I look at you." He draws in a shaky breath, "and it's like the whole world falls apart when I hear you speak."
Hanta stares at him. Shouto stares at the black sky.
"Todoroki."
Shouto looks at him. He licks his lips. "Yes?"
"Todoroki."
Fuck. "Sero."
Holy fucking shit. Hanta is, simply, breathless. His heart is about to jack-rabbit out of his chest and his blood is about to burst out of his veins and Jesus Christ he can't calm the fuck down. He feels like he's floating; his head is far too light for his liking. He stumbles over his words, and Shouto only watches.
Shouto begins to speak, but he can't even get to his second word before Hanta is moving to sit up on his elbow and lean into him. He cuts himself off, and they hold eye contact. A new kind of fire burns within Hanta's chest. He can't quite describe it, but the feeling of the flames licking up the cave of his ribs make his body as tingly as pineapple.
Then he moves again. His body is curling over, and his free hand is steadily moving to cup the side of Shouto's scarred face. He can feel the rumbling heat of his skin underneath his palm. It's liberating.
"Sero," Shouto gasps out. It's breathless, it's quiet, it's butterfly inducing.
Hanta leans in further. The boy's skin is like glittering porcelain under the glow of the moon. He's drawn to the beauty like a victim to a Siren's song. "You're stupid," he hisses, cutting off any further words from the other.
"Excuse me?"
A beat. "I don't know." He doesn't.
A beat. "I can't think."
Hanta huffs out a weak laugh. "And you think I can?" He swallows thickly and runs his thumb over the scar tissue of Shouto's face. It's surprisingly soft (he might've expected sandpaper), excusing the wrinkles and creases. "Do you trust me?"
Somewhat underneath him, Shouto lets out a shaky sigh. "More than anything."
Then, as if an unknown spirit has taken over his body, Hanta closes the small distance between them. There's no fireworks, no confetti cannons, overall no celebration. They just melt. Shouto's lips are surprisngly soft, and almost sweet, and good God it makes Hanta lose all hope in the afterlife. He's found his heaven, it's right here, in the palm of his hand. It's the exchange that's only been in his dreams, so for it to be real, well, fuck this can't be real. Maybe he's in heaven. Stupid, strawberry marshmallow heaven.
Shouto chases his lips when he pulls away. He grunts. "What?"
"You taste like strawberries."
There's a moment or two of silence as they look into each others eyes, before Hanta breaks out in a nervous fit of laughter, his head dipping down. "Sorry, that was so stupid." Curse him!
Out of his line of vision, Shouto smiles. He reaches up to tuck a strand of raven hair from Hanta's face (his heart soars when he sees his face redden). "It's okay," he mumbles, "I liked it."
"You liked when I said you taste like strawberries?" The quip comes out before Hanta can think. Fuck, curse him!
Now eye-to-eye, Shouto lets out a soft, but bright, laugh. "I like when you talk." His voice is softer, brighter. Hanta just about loses it.
"You really are insane."
"When it comes to you?" Shouto gives him probably the cutest smile in the whole world and cups his cheek. The cold pad of his thumb runs along the hill of his cheekbone; he finds the melanin difference them just beautiful. "Yes, I am."
Hanta rolls his eyes. He makes a mental note of 'Shouto knows how to flirt', and leans in to press their lips together once again, and a very sudden, and very loud shout breaks them apart.
"I knew it!!"
Both of them twist around to try and identify the culprit. It's Denki on the back porch, pointing and screaming, with Kyouka standing not too far from him. Her one earphone jack is extended over to the very foot of the grass, jammed into the dirt. Hanta groans. Seems they were eavesdropping.
Denki whips back around to his girlfriend, who's reeling her jack cord back in. "You owe me a thousand yen!" He screeches triumphantly. Kyouka's response isn't audible, but she can be seen rolling her eyes as she turns back into the dorms. Denki follows quickly behind her, whooping and cheering.
"Those idiots," Hanta mumbles to himself. He turns back to Shouto, only to see a face of perplexion.
"They bet on us?" He sounds in the middle of thought.
Hanta hums. "Seems like it."
"Oh." Shouto hums back. He looks down to the terrain, thinking, then, "oh."
"What is it?" Silently, he finds the verbal thoughts of the boy just a little cute. He turns back and lays on his side, propped up on his elbow, with his other hand softly stroking through the white locks of the other.
Again, Shouto hums. He turns to Hanta, making the hand in his hair fall down to his shoulder. "Were we that obvious?"
There's approximately two seconds of silence before Hanta breaks out into a fit of laughter. He clutches his stomach through each howl. "I know I was!" At least, everyone told him so. He never really understood his feelings, but Mina seemed to be deemed a love expert, and she told Hanta about his whipped state every chance she got.
"Mmmh, not to me," Shouto mutters. "I'm rather surprised."
"You are?" Hanta questions back, quickly coming down from his high. He leans in, bumping their shoulders together.
Shouto nods shortly. "Definitely."
Hanta knew it wasn't that bad! Or, perhaps, this just proves everyones point. It's that typical trope: obvious love, obllivious recipients. He scoffs. "Does this mean you'll be surprised when I ask you out?"
Another nod. "Theoretically, yes." He's got that stupid, monotone voice. Sero stares at him, waiting for any kind of response or reciprocation, before quickly remembering once more that Shouto doesn't get those things! When he laughs, Shouto tilts his head in confusion. "What?"
"I'm asking you out, idiot!" Hanta giggles out.
Shouto's face reddens in embarrassment. "Oh." He looks down and picks at the grass while biting his lip; he always hated when this kind of thing happened. It's not fault he can't pick up on social cues! He sighs, then after a moment, smiles. Sero called him that little name so often, it turned into something more endearing than anything. It never carried ill intent, and he learned to love it.
He looks back up to the ravenette with glittering eyes. "I think I would really like that." Then, just to emphasize his words, he moves to take Hanta's hand in his.
Hanta hums and smiles. "Sounds good, 'Roki."
From the windows of the Dormatory common room, Denki watches them kiss, the one thousand yen gripped tightly in his palms. He laughs almost evilly.
"Stop being a creep, Denks. Leave them alone."
"Awe, but, c'mon!" Denki turns around with a pout. He crosses his arms, glaring at his girlfriend on the couch. "I won the bet! Let me have my fun!"
Kyouka looks up from where she's setting up the karaoke machine (per Mina's request). Her eyebrow cocks up. "Your definition of fun is watching our friends kiss in the garden?"
Denki's mouth opens, closes, opens again, then closes back once more. His body deflates, and he trudges over to the couch. "Well, when you put it like that," he starts, before flopping face-first into the couch cushions, "I do sound like a creep."
"I's cus' you are," Kyouka jokes. "Now go get Yaomomo, we need batteries."