Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Monoma said he tried to keep up with everyone from Yuuei, he actually meant it. It wasn’t just a line he fed interviewers to seem more personable. It was the truth, something he clung to even as the years rolled by. Granted, keeping in touch wasn’t always easy. Everyone had their own demanding schedules, and carving out time for a quick text or a check-in call often felt like trying to balance the impossible. Still, Monoma made it a priority. He aimed to message them at least once a month— nothing extravagant, just enough to remind them he was still there if they ever needed his help. When life got too hectic, he would scroll through their social media profiles, catching glimpses of the lives they were leading, marveling at how far they’d all come.

Now, being ranked tenth in the hero rankings, Monoma found himself called out for more critical, high-stakes missions. His days were a whirlwind of pressure, the kind that left little room for anything outside of work. But he didn’t mind. He relished the weight of responsibility that came with his position, the chance to prove himself on bigger stages. Besides, there was a silver lining. Depending on the nature of the mission, he sometimes found himself working alongside his old classmates. No matter how much the world changed, they would always be tied together by the years they shared at Yuuei.

Monoma had always been the one to reach out first. It wasn’t a chore, not really. He liked keeping the threads of their relationships alive, even if it meant carrying the weight of initiating every conversation. Still, it was an unspoken pattern, one he’d grown used to, which is why he nearly dropped his phone when he got home from patrol and saw the notification. Someone had texted him first. Not a reply. Not a reaction to one of his messages. An actual, unsolicited text.

And it wasn’t just anyone. It was Shinsou. Shinsou, who could go months, sometimes even longer, without so much as typing a single word. Shinsou, whose communication style could best be described as “minimalist,” if you were being polite, or “ghostly” if you were more bold. The fact that Monoma didn’t have to prod him, remind him, or outright beg him to make contact made it all the more surreal. For a moment, Monoma stared at the screen, as though expecting the text to disappear under his gaze. It was brief, of course. Shinsou wasn’t one for elaborate conversation starters.

Shinsou: Congrats on ranking tenth. Free for dinner tomorrow night?

Nothing earth-shattering, but enough to make Monoma’s heart do an embarrassing little flip before he even had the chance to type out a response. Monoma continued to reread the message over and over again before snapping back to reality, realizing he was still only halfway in the foyer, the front door wide open. He quickly adjusted himself mentally, closed the door behind him and took his work boots off. He made his way into his bedroom to discard his hero suit, neatly placing it in the designated spot in the closet and grabbing a change of clothes for the night. Then quickly sent Shinsou a response.

Monoma: Shinsou, buddy, you okay? Sooooo strange to see you text me first. Some mean villain didn't hit you on the head or something?

Monoma: Also, I'm free after six tomorrow.

Satisfied, he hit send, placing the phone down on his wireless charger, hearing the charging ding go off. He knew Shinsou wouldn't text him back right away, seeing how he worked mostly at night, and the fact that was just Shinsou's personality. Monoma had long since stopped taking it personally. Still, the invitation lingered in his thoughts as he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, the hot water already fogging up the mirror before he even stepped under the spray.

The day melted away as the scalding water poured over his shoulders, easing the tension in his muscles and rinsing away the grime of the streets. Yet, even as he scrubbed shampoo into his hair and leaned into the soothing heat, his thoughts kept circling back to the text. Shinsou wasn’t exactly the social butterfly type, and their interactions, while friendly, had never gone much deeper than the occasional mission or casual banter. Maybe he’s just being polite, Monoma thought to himself, rinsing the soap from his face. But then again, this is Shinsou we’re talking about. Polite wasn’t exactly his default setting. There had to be a reason for this sudden gesture, and Monoma couldn’t decide if he was more intrigued or apprehensive about finding out.

Once he was fully cleaned, Monoma turned off the shower, the sound of rushing water replaced by a sudden, stark silence. He opened the glass door, only to be met with a biting gust of cold air that pricked his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. His muscles, still warm and loose from the scalding heat, protested the abrupt chill. Grabbing his towel off the rack, he wrapped it around himself with a swift motion, rubbing it briskly over his damp skin. Droplets of water clung stubbornly to his hair, dripping down the back of his neck as he ran the towel through the strands. He moved with purpose, eager to escape the cool draft lingering in the bathroom.

He made his way back into his bedroom, Monoma glanced at the neatly folded clothes he’d laid out earlier. Nothing special, just a soft black sweater and a pair of sweatpants, casual and comfortable for the rest of the night. He pulled them on quickly, the fabric clinging slightly to his still-damp skin before settling into place. The warmth of the sweater was a welcome comfort, and he let out a soft sigh as he tugged the sleeves down over his wrists. Monoma ran a hand through his hair to shake out the last of the water.

He made his way over to the nightstand, his fingers brushing against the phone as the screen lit up with a new notification. Monoma didn’t think much of it at first, fully expecting it to be one of his old classmates or perhaps an update from the agency. But when he saw the name on the screen, Shinsou , it made Monoma freeze mid-motion. For a second, his brain struggled to process what he was seeing. Shinsou? Messaging him again? Twice in one day? It was almost enough to make him question whether he’d stumbled into some bizarre alternate reality. His breath hitched, caught somewhere between disbelief and intrigue, and for a moment, he just stared at the screen as if it might vanish if he blinked too hard.

He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to focus as his heart threatened to pound its way out of his chest. He wasn’t sure why he was reacting this way. After all, it was just a text. But it was Shinsou, a man who treated his phone more like a paperweight than a means of communication. The fact that this was unsolicited, entirely on Shinsou’s own terms, made Monoma’s chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite name. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself, willing his heart to slow down as he reached for the phone. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before unlocking it, eyes darting down to read the message in its entirety.

Shinsou : Cool. Meet me here at seven tomorrow.

The next message was a link to a restaurant. Monoma tapped it with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, watching as the page loaded. The name of the place was sleek and minimalist; exactly the kind of establishment that screamed upscale sophistication without needing to try too hard. It wasn’t a five-star Michelin spot, but it had all the hallmarks of a restaurant that catered to those who joined eating exotic, hard to pronounce foods. The kind of place where you wouldn’t dare ask for substitutions on the menu for fear of a condescending look from the waiter.

His eyes flicked over the carefully curated photos of elegant dishes: artfully arranged portions that were small enough to make Monoma wonder if he'd need a second dinner afterward but exquisite enough to still leave him impressed. For a moment, Monoma wondered why Shinsou had picked such a place. Maybe he's been here before? Or he just wanted to go somewhere special seeing he wants to celebrate my new hero rank? Either way, the choice was surprising, thoughtful even, and Monoma couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth as he typed out a response.

Monoma: Fancy. I’m impressed, Shinsou. Didn’t take you for the “fine dining” type. I was fully expecting you to take me to a 7/11 for cup noodles and canned coffee. 

Monoma: Do I need to break out my suit for this, or is smart casual enough?

Monoma hit send, letting his smile linger as he imagined Shinsou reading the message. He could almost hear the exasperated sigh the man would let out before typing his reply, his lips twitching into that barely-there smirk he probably thought no one ever noticed. Shaking his head, Monoma tossed his phone onto the nightstand and turned his attention to the bed. It had been a long day, and even though the excitement of tomorrow’s dinner buzzed faintly in the back of his mind, his body was begging for rest.

He pulled back the comforter and slid between the cool sheets, letting the soft fabric wrap around him as he settled in. The weight of the day started to lift from his shoulders, replaced by the quiet hum of anticipation. His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and his hand shot out to grab it. He swiped the screen open and read the reply.

Shinsou: Smart casual. Don’t overthink it.

Monoma: Not overthinking. Just trying to keep up with your high standards. ;)

As much as he wanted to stay up and wait for Shinsou's reply, Monoma knew better. Sleep was a necessity, especially after a long patrol, and there was no guarantee Shinsou would reply as quickly as before. He let out a soft sigh, reaching over to place his phone back on the wireless charger. The faint glow of the screen dimmed, engulfing the room in a silent darkness, as he settled into the mattress, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. 

He stared up at  the ceiling, the quiet of the room amplifying the thoughts swirling in his head. The idea of having dinner with Shinsou tomorrow lingered, playing out scenarios in vivid detail. The corners of his lips twitched as he imagined Shinsou dryly criticizing his choice of conversation topics or giving him one of those rare, fleeting smirks that he couldn’t help but admire when Shinsou thought no one was looking. The thought made his chest tighten in a way that felt simultaneously thrilling and unnerving. 

“Relax,” Monoma whispered to himself, shaking his head as if the action could banish the creeping warmth on his cheeks. He rolled onto his side, closing his eyes and letting out a slow, steadying breath. Tomorrow was going to come whether he overanalyzed it or not. And as much as his thoughts tried to pull him into their endless spiral, exhaustion eventually began to take over, lulling him into sleep. Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

—

Honestly, if someone were to ask Monoma how afternoon patrol went today, they’d probably get a blank stare, followed by a delayed “What?” If they were patient enough to repeat themselves, they might be graced with a distracted “Sure,” though what exactly he was agreeing to would remain a mystery to everyone, including himself. Because truthfully, Monoma didn’t have the faintest idea how patrol went today. 

His mind had been preoccupied with one simple though, circling around like a vulture waiting to attack its next prey. Dinner. Dinner tonight. Dinner tonight with Shinsou. And it definitely wasn't like he was overthinking it. No, that wasn't him at all. Monoma didn't overthink things; he carefully planned his next moves, being sure to not insult or hurt those he deemed important to him. He strategized what he would say or text so he didn't come off as overbearing or standoffish. Okay, sure his every thought kept spiraling back to the same hypothetical scenarios. He just wanted to be thorough with his preparation. That's all it was, preparation, and in no way overthinking.

…Okay maybe it was overthinking.

Still, he could barely make in through the day without feeling like the ground was melting away, and swallowing him whole. And that was a feeling he surprisingly understood well from back during his time at Yuuei when he had to work with Honenuki, but that was beside the point. He needed to focus on patrol right now. With him being ranked tenth meant more people came up to him and tried to talk to him. Most asked for a picture, which he accepted without a second thought. Others asked for them to copy their quirks, which he declined. Despite what many thought, Monoma wasn't one to just randomly take someone's quirk just because they asked, especially those he didn't know.

The remainder of the patrol had passed in a haze, a series of vague impressions: the cool afternoon air biting at his skin, the polite nods exchanged with people on the streets and a few low level villains he easily took down. Beyond that? Nothing. It could have been the most uneventful patrol of his life, or an absolute disaster, and Monoma wouldn’t have noticed either way.

By the time patrol ended and he returned back home, he still had no clearer picture of how the afternoon had unfolded. Only thing that was clear was he felt like knots tangled in his stomach, his nervousness growing slightly tighter as it got closer to the time. Monoma didn't do nervous. Sure, he'd be lying if he said he never felt nervous before, because he did. A lot actually. He was just good at hiding it away; from the public, his friends and even himself at times. But something about tonight made him feel heavier than expected.

It was still only four, he still had over an hour before he even had to prepare for dinner. That didn't stop him from questioning everything. From his choice of clothing, trying to decide if a tie bordered too close on the line of smart casual vs business casual. Or if he should have been more specific about the time and exact location they were meet. What if Shinsou thought he was trying too hard? What if Shinsou didn't think he was appreciative enough for the invite?

He looked back over to the clock, now reading five. He really just wasted an hour of his time lost in his own mind. He hauled himself off the couch and made his way into the shower. Something that wasn't a huge necessity, but he would rather be safe than sorry. The last thing he needed was for Shinsou to say he smelt like shit, so a quick five minute shower did more good than harm. Once he was done, Monoma caught his reflection in the mirror as he passed by. Most of the outer parts had begun to fog up slightly, but the middle— the middle was crystal clear. What would normally be his usual self-assured smirk greeting him was replaced by an unfamiliar look of unease. He stopped, wincing at his own expression.

“Get it together, Neito.” He muttered and fixed his hair. “It's just dinner. You've dealt with so much worse than this. It's not like he’s grading you. It's not like you care what he thinks.” His reflection eyebrow raised, shooting him a questionable look. He sighed, straightening his posture. “Okay, maybe you care a little, but not enough to freak out about it.”

And yet, the freak out was happening whether he wanted it to or not. With another sign, he made his way into his bedroom, hoping picking out an outfit wouldn't be a difficult task.

Monoma stood in front of his closet, arms crossed tightly over his chest, lips pressed into a thin, frustrated line. His wardrobe was a curated display of sophistication. From tailored blazers in a spectrum of muted tones, sleek dress pants, crisp button-ups, and the occasional sweater that somehow managed to exude effortless luxury. Normally, assembling the perfect outfit was second nature to him, a reflex honed by years of knowing how to present himself as the picture of polished perfection. But tonight? Tonight felt like trying to solve a puzzle where the pieces refused to fit.

Smart casual. Two simple words, yet they taunted him like some unsolvable riddle the more he overanalyzed them. Casual, but not sloppy. Smart, but not pretentious. He pulled a dark navy blazer from the rack, holding it up to his chest as he squinted at his reflection in the mirror. The fabric caught the light in just the right way. No, it was too formal. With a sigh, he tossed it onto the bed. Next came a plain red T-shirt. He slipped it over his head, only to rip it off with a growl. Too basic. Too uninspired. He flung it aside with more force than necessary, where it joined a growing pile of discarded options. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Why was this so difficult? Why was he so difficult? Knowing Shinsou, the guy would probably show up in a hoodie and jeans, utterly unbothered. And here he was, standing in the midst of his wardrobe warzone, agonizing over whether his shoes should be polished loafers or sleek sneakers. It was maddening, but then again, wasn’t that exactly what Shinsou did to him? Got under his skin, unravelling the confident persona Monoma so carefully crafted?

He yanked a lightweight knit sweater from its hanger, gray with a subtle texture that whispered understated elegance. He paused, inspecting it with a critical eye. Clean. Classic. A compromise. He put it on, adjusting the hem before pairing it with dark wash denim jeans that hugged his frame in all the right places. After a moment of indecision, he grabbed a pair of black polished loafers. The whole look struck the delicate balance he was aiming for: confident without being condescending, refined but not overbearing. Or at least, he hoped it did.

He stood back, studying his reflection one last time. Not bad. Not bad at all. Satisfied— for now, he reached for his favorite watch on the dresser, the gold face catching the light as he slid it onto his wrist. It was a finishing touch, a subtle statement of thoughtfulness. His gaze flicked down to check the time, 6:30 . Shit. He needed to move.

Grabbing his phone and keys, he stole one last glance at himself in the mirror. “Perfect,” he muttered, the word barely audible, more a whisper of reassurance than a declaration. He drew in a breath, straightened his shoulders, and headed out the door. After all, if he was going to be a mess of nerves, he could at least be a punctual one.

The walk over was pleasant, besides a few people recognizing Monoma it was peaceful. Just him and his thoughts. And Monoma wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The one thing he knew was the outside of the restaurant was stunning. The streetlamps had started to turn on, bathing the structure in a warm, ambient lighting. The atmosphere was a blend of sophistication and cozy intimacy. Monoma checked his watch; the gold sparkled under the streetlights, 6:55 . The nerves that had gnawed at him all day had calmed down into a low, constant hum beneath his skin. 

He took a deep breath before he opened the large glass doors, the sound of a bell ringing to announce his arrival. A host greeted him and Monoma gave him his name. He was led back to a table tucked away in the far corner of the restaurant, a perfect spot for some privacy without feeling isolated. Shinsou was already seated, a look of nonchalance across his face and for a second Monoma envied him. His posture was relaxed, his elbow resting on the table and the other aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He looked up, catching Monoma as he approached the table. Violet eyes met light blue eyes and a small smirk tugged at the corner of Shinsou's lips.

“Didn't your mom teach you it's rude to put your elbows on the table?” Monoma teased as he sat down, “or not to have your phone out during dinner?”

Shinsou rolled his eyes as he locked his phone, before placing it into his pocket. He moved so now both of his elbows rested on the table, his smirk growing a bit bigger. “If I’m bothering you, I'll just cancel the rest of dinner.” To anyone else, Shinsou's monotone delivery might have sounded serious, but Monoma could catch the humor in his words.

“Oh, please do. I’d love to see the look on the waiter's face when you tell him we’re canceling because you’re allergic to table manners.” Monoma's tone was sharp but playful. He grabbed at the menu and started to flip through it. “So why dinner? I mean, I'm not complaining, but you're not one to ask to hang out or text first?”

“What can't I invite a fellow Pro Hero out to celebrate his recent ranking promotion?” Shinsou asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No, you absolutely can,” Monoma said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m just surprised you went out of your way to do this. And a place like this, no less.” He gestured around the restaurant with a dramatic flourish. “What happened? Did one of your friends guilt-trip you into being social for once?”

There was a beat of silence, and Monoma caught the brief flicker of guilt that crossed Shinsou’s face— just enough to confirm he’d hit the mark. Bingo.

“Tokage,” Monoma guessed, leaning back with a triumphant grin. “She told you to get out more, didn’t she?”

Shinsou rolled his eyes, but he didn’t bother arguing. If you asked him how he and Tokage ended up “friends,” his answer would be a serious, deadpan, “We’re not friends.” But deep down, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Tokage had latched onto him from the moment they crossed paths at Yuuei, persistent in a way that was equal parts endearing and exhausting. No matter how much he tried to shake her off, she never let go.

And, if he was being honest, he didn’t entirely mind. Sure, she could be loud, chaotic, and far too interested in poking at the walls he kept so carefully protected. But she was also one of the rare few who didn’t let those walls scare her off. Aside from Monoma and a small handful of former General Studies kids, Tokage was one of the only people who constantly checked in on him, who treated him like more than the mysterious, unapproachable underground hero he pretended to be. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud. At least, not without a fight first.

The two continued with light banter, well Monoma did most of the talking, as they flipped through the menus. With such exotic, and hard to pronounce names, both of them had to sneak glances at their phones for translations. Some went on the “maybe” list and others were immediately banished to the “no fucking way” list. After a few minutes of thinking they decided. Monoma picked something from their Molecular section, whatever that meant. Veal topped with Parmesan ice cream paired with artichoke hearts and beetroot foam. Shinous played it a bit safer, getting Goose breast with cranberry sauce and smoked eggplant. And as if the restaurant staff timed it perfectly, a waiter came by their table to place their orders. And Shinsou had to assume either they were just really good at their jobs or the more reasonable assumptions that someone had a mind-reading quirk. 

Not too long after their food arrived, both of them couldn't help but laugh at the speed. They traded jokes about how quickly it must've been prepared simply because of how comically small the portions were. While Shinsou's plate, at least, had some resemblance to food an average person might actually recognize. Monoma's on the other hand looked like it had been conjured straight out of some futuristic research lab.

“You know,” Monoma began, he leaned forward slightly to inspect his plate as if he were some well-renowned food critic. “I wonder how they are able to keep the Parmesan ice cream from melting over the veal. You think the heat radiating from it would have melted it by now.” 

He picked at his food, trying to get a bit of everything on his fork. His expression teetered somewhere between fascination and mild horror. Slowly he brought the fork to his mouth, taking a bite. The first bite was interesting to say the least. As the different textures mingled in his tongue, each flavor coating his palate. His brow furrowed, his mind clearly trying to determine whether it was bad or just different.

Shinsou let out a soft snort, eyeing the creation across from him as if it might grow legs and walk off the plate. “And I wonder if that's actually supposed to be edible.” He quipped, stabbing at his own meal with a bit more confidence. “Pretty sure I saw something similar at my primary school science fair. I think it was in the category of ‘Things That Should Never Be Eaten.”

“Well, at least my meal has some sense of adventure to it. Yours look like the Chef just gave up halfway through and thought, ‘Eh, good enough.’” Monoma replied as he continued to pick away at his food.

Shinsou gave him a small shrug, “True, but at least mine doesn't look like it might achieve sentience if left unattended for too long.”

Monoma gave him a quick eye roll, before continuing to eat his food. Besides the clink of utensils against their plate it was silent. A type of silence that wasn't awkward, it was strangely comfortable, like a blanket they both had wordlessly agreed to share. Monoma’s gaze flickered over to Shinsou every few moments, as if drawn by some invisible force he couldn’t quite resist. Was he waiting for a comment? A shift in expression that might give him something to dissect? He didn’t know, and it frustrated him just enough to keep glancing. Meanwhile, Shinsou ate his food at a steady pace, clearly savouring the taste. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable but far from disinterested.

When they finally finished, Monoma pushed his plate away with an exaggerated sigh. He grabbed at the napkin in his lap, wiping away any remaining food from his mouth. He leaned forward in the table, clasping his hands together, a grin on his face that screamed deviousness.

“Hey,” he began, his voice laced with a familiar mischief lilt that usually meant trouble. “Wanna see a cool trick on how to get free food?”

“Oh, is the number ten hero too poor to afford food from such a high class restaurant?” Shinsou raised an eyebrow at him, his lips twitched as though he was holding back a smirk. “And why do I have the horrible feeling this is going to end with us both being banned from this place?”

“Rude. Unlike you I actually have a public reputation to uphold. So, wanna see the trick?” Monoma asked. The two stared at each other for a moment, and their impromptu staring contest translated to “sure” in Monoma head.

Before Shinsou could finally form an actual response Monoma was already scooting his chair back. He placed his napkin on the table as he stood up. There was a hint of worry in Shinsou's eyes as he did so. And, yeah sure, he could have said something and brainwashed Monoma to sit back down. But there was a part of him that wanted to see where this was going. 

Monoma moved around the table, now standing next to Shinsou's chair. He carefully took Shinsou's hand and lowered himself on one knee. “I've been thinking about what to say at this moment for a long time now.” Monoma's voice was slightly raised, not enough for the whole restaurant to hear. But just enough to catch surrounding tables and a few wait staff, who now have all turned their attention to them.

“From the very first time we met, you turned my world into something I never thought it could be. You make even the dullest days brighter. Every laugh, every tear, every moment we've shared— it's all brought me to this moment.”

Shinsou stared at him in disbelief. He could have once again easily brainwashed Monoma to stop. For him to get up and sit back down like none of this was happening, but for some reason he didn't. He let Monoma continue his theatrics.

“I don't want you to be just another chapter in my life. I want you to be my partner through every page, every twist and turn, till the very end. I want to be by your side, learn with you and face everything life throws at us, together.” Monoma paused for a second, pretending to pull out an imaginary ring box. He held his hand in such a manner so people around them didn't notice his hands were actually empty. “I've loved you from the start. Hitoshi, will you marry me?”

There were probably over hundreds of things Shinsou could have said in that moment. A hundred ways to say no or act like it was a prank. A hundred ways to convince the people around them this was all a stupid joke. Yet Shinsou didn't do any of them, again due to unknown reasons. No, instead his brain must have malfunctioned because the next thing he knew the word, “yes” had already escaped his lips. Before he could correct himself, the sound of applause was heard from surrounding tables. Monoma gave him a smirk and a quick wink, as he pretended to slip a ring onto Shinsou's finger. 

Shinsou's face burned, the heat creeping up from his neck to his ears. His lips parted, the weight of the "yes" still lingering on his tongue, like a piece of food he couldn't swallow. He had absolutely no idea why he said it, and now the whole restaurant was clapping like they were the stars of some cheesy rom-com. He glared at Monoma, who rose gracefully to his feet, bowing slightly to their audience as though this was all perfectly normal.

Monoma, basking in the moment, before he sat back down, the smirk on his lips daring to spill over into a full-blown grin. Shinsou stared at him, and let's just say if looks could kill, Monoma would have been dead already. He wanted to yell at him for his ridiculous show he just put on. But instead, all he managed was a low, “You're insane.” 

“Insanely creative.” Monoma shot back, leaning comfortably in his seat like nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “And may I say, you played your part perfectly, Shinsou. That “yes” was quite heartfelt. Almost made me tear up for a second there.” He jokingly wiped away a few invisible tears from his eyes. 

“You're lucky I don't strangle you right here.” Shinsou’s words came out like a growl.

Monoma let a laugh slip past his lips, “Gonna be a widow before we even have our first dance. Face it, you're stuck with me now. Till death do us part or at least until the dessert arrives.”

Soon after their little show, their waiter was approaching their table with a plate of strawberry cheesecake. “Compliments of the house.” He said, placing the plate down on the table, “and don't worry about your food sirs, that's on us as well.”

Monoma gave him a wide smile, “are you sure? I don't want to seem like we are getting special treatment or anything like that. We have no issue paying for our food.”

“No, it's the least we can do for you, especially since you decided to have our establishment be the start of a new chapter in your lives.” The waiter told him. “Although I wish you would have told one of us beforehand. We would have got the host to sit you at one of our romantic areas.”

“Don't worry, everywhere I go with him is a romantic area. Isn't that right, sweetheart?” Monoma asked, earning another death glare from Shinsou. Luckily the waiter didn't notice the murderous look behind his eyes. “but we both greatly appreciate the gesture. Be sure to let the owner know we thank them for their generosity.”

“I will be sure of it. And congratulations.” The waiter said before leaving them alone.

“And that right there, Shinsou is how you get free food.” Monoma said. He cut a piece of the cheesecake with his fork and shoved it into his mouth. “Cheesecake?” 

Shinsou let out a sigh before aggressively stabbing at the dish in front of him. “Monoma, I swear to God if this backfires, I will—”

“Don't worry. You're an underground hero, so no one even recognizes you. And granted I am the number ten hero, but I highly doubt anyone here actually recognizes me out of my hero costume.” Monoma told him as he enjoyed another bite of the cheesecake. “Trust me by tomorrow everyone here will have forgotten all about this.”

“They better.” Shinsou said. He continued to pick away at their cheesecake. Sure he has never been one for public attention, that's the main reason he became an underground hero. Besides, if he wanted to be humiliated in public he would have just hung out with someone like Kaminari or Bakugo. But he'd be lying if he said this wasn't the best cheesecake he's ever had. So there was a small part— a very very small part of him that didn't mind the attention.

Once they had finished, the two of them exited the restaurant into the cool night air. The distant hum of the city lingered around them, punctuated by the occasional honk of a car. Shinsou shoved his hands into his pockets, his steps heavy with lingering irritation. Monoma strolled beside him, hand swinging freely at his sides, looking entirely too pleased with himself, his grin practically radiating smug satisfaction as though he had won the jumbo prize at the local arcade.

“You really are insane, you know that?” Shinsou muttered, his tone dry but it lacked any real bite to it.

“I've been told,” Monoma replied, slightly tilting his head back, taking in the night sky. “But you can't deny it worked. Free food and the best cheesecake of your life. You're welcome, by the way.”

Shinsou sighed, “That could’ve gone so much worse.”

They stopped at the corner of the street where their paths would diverge, the tension between them settled into something quieter. Shinsou looked at Monoma, then glanced down, his shoulders stiff. Monoma stood still, his head tilted just enough to watch Shinsou without it being too noticeable. There was the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. Before parting, Monoma raised his hand, placing it on Shinsou's shoulder. He reassured him one more time that everything would be fine and no one will care about it come morning time. He didn't linger on the words too long, he knew the reassurance didn't need any embellishment. Monoma's hand slipped off of Shinsou's shoulder. 

Shinsou's jaw tightened slightly, his expression unreadable. He walked off into the night without a word, the faint echo of his footsteps against the pavement fading with each step. Monoma stayed rooted in place, his gaze fixed on Shinsou until he disappeared into the shadows. Slowly, Monoma exhaled, slipping his hands into his own jean pockets as if bracing against a cold that wasn’t entirely from the evening air. With one final glance toward the street ahead of him, he turned on his heels and headed in the opposite direction.

Chapter Text

There were many ways Monoma would have preferred to be woken up on his day off. An alarm, someone shaking him— hell, even a bucket of ice water dumped on his face would have been preferable. Yet he wasn't granted that, instead he was greeted by the non-stop, maddening chime of his notifications going off like a fire alarm. Each ping stabbed into his barely conscious brain. His phone buzzed so aggressively against the wireless charger Monoma was sure one more buzz and it would fall off the nightstand entirely. He groaned, dragging the pillow over his head, but the notifications refused to let him be.

He stared up at the ceiling, his mind still foggy from sleep. He tried to wrap his head around the assault of notifications. One thing he learned from Hero work is usually the only reason something like this happens is for one reason: he was trending again on social media. Maybe it was something good? Maybe someone finally recognized his genius. Maybe the public had come to their senses and were celebrating his talent, his intellect, his flawless execution of heroism. Maybe he was finally getting the respect he deserved— No if you were trending it usually was for something bad.

But the real question was figuring out what he may or may not have done to cause it. His hero ranking had been out for a week now, and he also learned that social media had the attention span of a caffeinated goldfish. After forty-eight hours, people moved on to the next shiny controversy. Whatever this was, it had to be new. And judging by the sheer aggression of his notifications, it definitely wasn’t for something good. 

Monoma groaned as he rolled over, fumbling blindly for his phone. The screen’s harsh glow stabbed at his sleep-heavy eyes, but even before he unlocked it, he knew something was wrong. His notifications were a disaster— texts, comments, emails, all piling up like a digital landslide. One message from Kendou stood out, ominous and a single word: Twitter. His stomach dropped. Nothing good ever followed a text like that. Finally break into the top ten and I’m already getting cancelled?

Bracing himself, he tapped open Twitter. His mentions were a mess, all leading back to a single post: Kirishima’s. Kirishima? What the hell had he done to Kirishima this time? With mounting dread, he clicked the tweet. A video. Last night. The restaurant. Oh, fuck. His eyes darted to the caption: ‘Went to dinner and was interrupted by @phantomthief proposing to our former classmate, Shinsou.’ Monoma stared in disbelief, blood running cold.

No, no, no. That wasn’t— he didn’t— His brain outright refused to process what he was seeing. A low ringing started in his ears, static swallowing up his thoughts as he re-read the tweet once. Twice. A third time. Surely, he was reading it wrong. Surely, his sleep-deprived brain was filling in words that weren’t actually there. But when he hit play, there was no mistaking it. The video was crystal clear. That was him. That was Shinsou. That was Kirishima filming. And that was him dropping down onto one knee, grinning like an absolute lunatic in the middle of a packed restaurant.

Yup. He was fucked. 

Monoma wondered if orchids or chrysanthemums would look better at his funeral. He blinked at the screen, hoping— praying that his brain was hallucinating. Maybe this was just a bad dream, the kind that made no sense when you woke up. One that left you drenched in sweat. He closed his eyes tight, then opened them. Not a dream. The video was still there, taunting him. The likes, the retweets and the absolute avalanche of replies hadn't disappeared either. He was tempted to look at the replies, but his better judgement told him not to. Unless you liked to be insulted, nothing good ever came from reading replies.

He closed Twitter and opened up his messages. Scrolled through the amount of text he’d already received, most from former classmates and a few other Pro Heros he's worked with before. But there was one name that wasn't there: Shinsou. Wait, that's right Shinsou didn't have a social media account, so he probably has no idea what was going on. This was good. Absolutely perfect, even. This meant Monoma had time to think of how not to get himself killed. Before he could even exhale in relief, another notification lit up his screen. Monoma looked at it and swore he could taste his heart in his throat, iron and regret filled his taste buds. The two mixed perfectly into a mixture of chaos.

Shinsou: I'm coming over

Monoma could hear his own death knell ringing in his ears. He genuinely considered throwing his phone across the room, as if that would somehow undo the words on the screen. Monoma was really going to have to figure out what flowers he wanted at his funeral now. Was this how it ended? A career cut tragically short, not by villainy, not by battle, but by sheer, unfiltered stupidity? His legacy wiped away, not by a grand sacrifice, but by his own impulsive, hungry actions? He slowly typed out a question, one he already knew the answer to.

Monoma: Why?

Monoma placed his phone down on the nightstand. His world may be ending but he couldn't just lay in bed and panic all day. He threw the comforter off of himself, stretching as he sat up. There was no way he could talk his way out of this one. Monoma quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the closet and put them on before heading to the kitchen. If he was gonna die, he was at least gonna die with a full stomach. He scanned the kitchen for something to eat, something worthy enough to be his last meal. His stomach growled despite the nausea twisting his gut; he needed to eat something.

Finally he decided on leftover salmon from the other day. He began to heat up the fish, the sound of the sizzling pan popped uncomfortable in his ears. His mind must have been on autopilot because the next thing he knew, he was sitting at the table with a plate in front of him. He didn't remember turning off the stove, plating the fish, or even walking over to the table. But here he was now. Just him, the fish and his spiraling mind. All of this just to get a free meal. I'm actually going to die because of this. All this over some food I could have easily paid for… No, Shinsou won't kill me. He can't kill me. He's a Pro Hero too, that goes against the hero code. But he could easily brainwash me into doing it myself, make it seem like I was the only one involved. Sure people would raise suspicion, but it probably wouldn't initiate an investigation. I'm totally fucked—

Monoma froze when he heard a know at the door. Maybe if he stayed perfectly still, Shinsou would assume he wasn’t home. No, that was stupid. Shinsou knew he was here. Maybe he could fake an illness. Something extreme. Sudden food poisoning. A coma. Death itself. Before he could think up a convincing fake obituary, the knocking came again— louder, sharper. He stared down at his untouched food. So much for dying on a full stomach. He pushed his chair back and stood up, his legs felt like jello, ready to collapse under him at any second. It took all his strength to start moving them. The loud banging continued, only dying down for a few seconds before it started over again.

Monoma forced himself forward, each step towards the door a silent funeral March. His fingers trembled as they reached the hand, his mind already cycling through every possible excuse, every white lie he could weave into something even slightly believable. Maybe he could claim temporary insanity. Maybe he could gaslight Shinsou into thinking he was going insane himself, that there never was a video. No, Shinsou was smarter than to fall for that. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled the door open.

Shinsou stood in the doorway, arms crossed with murder in his eyes. His violet gaze burned with a quiet, seething rage. His eyes locked onto Monoma like a predator toying with its prey— an idiotic, reckless, absolutely doomed prey. The kind that had wandered into danger completely oblivious and was about to face the consequences. Monoma swallowed hard. All the villains he’d fought, all the near-death experiences he’d danced through with a grin. Yet, none of them had ever made his stomach drop like this. Shinsou wasn't using his quirk, but Monoma could feel himself sinking into something inescapable, something that made his heartbeat trip over itself in panic.

Shinsou stepped forward, the light from the hallway casting a sharp contrast against his facial features. His jaw was clenched, his muscles taut like he was holding himself back from throwing Monoma out the nearest window.

“Morning,” Monoma said, his voice cracked in a way that made him internally cringe. Get. A. Grip. He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and forced a smirk on his face, but even he could feel how weak it was. “Lovely weather we’re having.”

Shinsou raised an eyebrow. “Really? You want to explain what the hell is happening?”

Monoma let out an awkward, high-pitched laugh. “Uh, what exactly are we referring to?’

“Don't play dumb with me,” Shinsou's jaw tightened. “The trending video, Monoma.” His voice was steady, but Monoma caught the flicker of something in his gaze. Annoyance? Amusement? No, there was no way in hell Shinsou was amused by this.

Monoma tried for nonchalance, leaning against the doorframe, although it was more to support himself. “Ah, you mean the completely exaggerated and wildly misinterpreted footage of me, a humble citizen, merely engaging in a bit of spontaneous public performance art?”

Shinsou blinked at him, unimpressed. “You proposed to me.”

Monoma waved a hand as if he was brushing off the other’s statement, “allegedly.”

Shinsou pinched the bridge of his nose. “Monoma.”

“Okay, fine,” Monoma sighed and stepped back, motioning for Shinsou to come in. “I was caught up in the moment, okay? It was a joke.”

“You said everyone would forget about it. Yet here we are, video evidence engraved into everyone's mind.” Shinsou stepped inside and shut the door behind him. 

Once inside he pulled out his phone and, to Monoma's horror, played the video at full volume. There he was, on one knee, in the middle of the restaurant. There was Shinsou, looking like he was two seconds away from choking on his drink. There was no denying that it was them, he couldn't pretend like it was two completely random people and not them in any form. He could hear Kirishima make a whistling sound, followed by Mina going “oh my God” over and over again.

When the video ended Shinsou pocketed his phone and stared at Monoma. Monoma cleared his throat. “Poetic, wasn't it?”

Shinsou just kept staring.

Monoma shifted. “Look, if it helps, it wasn’t real! Obviously, I didn’t mean it. It was just— it was—” His words faltered under Shinsou’s scrutinizing gaze. 

“I know it wasn't real, but everyone else doesn't know that.” Shinsou exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how many texts I’ve gotten today? From people I haven’t spoken to in years, people I don’t even know. All of them texting me to ask if I’m actually engaged? My mother called me, Monoma.”

Monoma winced. “Your mom? Oh, shit.”

“Yes,” Shinsou deadpanned. “My mom. She left me a five-minute voicemail about how she was so happy I was seeing someone and that she wants to meet my fiancé.”

Monoma was suddenly acutely aware of how small his apartment was. The walls felt closer, the air thinner. “Okay,” he started carefully. “But hear me out. There is a silver lining to all this.”

Shinsou tilted his head. “Oh, please. Enlighten me.”

Monoma clapped his hands together, ignoring the cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. “Publicity, my dear Shinsou. Think about it— this is free engagement! No pun intended. The media loves a good romance scandal. My hero rankings might even go up from this! Imagine the headlines: ‘Rising Star Monoma Neito and Underground Powerhouse Shinsou Hitoshi: A Love Story for the Ages!’”

Shinsou stared for a long moment. Then, to Monoma’s absolute horror, he smirked. “You think this is funny, don’t you?”

“Not funny, per se,” Monoma said. “Just… strategically advantageous.”

Before either could get another word out, Monoma's phone went off. The sharp buzz cut through the thick tension hanging in the room like a blade. Perfect. An excuse to get away from Shinsou for even a moment. Or so he thought. He barely had time to turn on his heels before he felt Shinsou’s presence shadowing him, a quiet but firm reminder that the hero course drilled into them the importance of never letting a target leave your sight. Monoma’s fingers tightened around the phone as he grabbed it off the nightstand, eyes scanning the illuminated screen. His stomach twisted at the name displayed: his PR agent. Great. Exactly what he needed on top of everything else. With a sigh, he clicked the answer button, barely bringing the phone up to his ear before an explosion of screaming nearly burst his eardrum.

He flinched, pulling the device away as his PR agent’s voice tore through the speaker, a chaotic mess of words and frustration. He could make out a few things; something about damage control, public image, and something else he couldn't make out through the screaming. He barely had time to process it before the shouting dipped into a lower, fast-paced lecture. Shinsou, still standing at the threshold of Monoma’s bedroom, leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold with half-lidded curiosity. 

Monoma did his best to ignore him, though the weight of those sharp violet eyes stared at him intently. The unsettling feeling of them watching his every move was nerve racking, and add in his conversation with his PR agent equal the worst feeling he ever experienced. Yet he tried his best to pretend like he wasn't freaking out, making sure he responded to the conversation. 

“Yes.” His voice was stiff as he responded to whatever was being thrown at him. “Okay.” He rubbed his temple, exhaling sharply. “Sure.” His jaw tightened. “No.” His fingers twitched.

He could feel Shinsou’s gaze dissecting every micro-expression, every shift in his stance. It made him feel even more exposed, as if he wasn’t already hanging on by a thread. He turned away, pacing the length of his room while the voice on the other end continued to rattle off instructions, demands and expectations. Monoma didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t worth it. Whatever mess had been made, whatever headlines were circulating, he’d handle it. He always did. But right now, with Shinsou watching his every move and his agent’s voice drilling into his skull, he just wanted to disappear.

Once the conversation ended, Monoma put his phone down and took a deep breath. “She called to tell me most of the news accounts, even a few international ones, have already discussed our recent engagement.” He looked at Shinsou still standing there, eyes burning holes into him. “Oh, she also said congratulations on our engagement.”

“We aren't engaged… you told her that, didn't you?” Monoma gave Shinsou a look, guilt written clearly across his face. “Monoma, we are not engaged.”

“You keep saying that like I don't already know that.” Monoma said as he moved, silently ushering Shinsou to follow him out of the bedroom. “I just figured after what we discussed before the phone call it would be good publicity for us.”

“We never discussed anything.” Shinsou moved to the table, pulling a chair out to sit down. “So your solution is to just— What? Keep up the lie?”

Shinsou stared at Monoma, who sat across from him with the aura of a man who had just closed a life changing business deal rather than one who accidentally faked a public engagement. Hands folded, chin lifted, entirely too pleased with himself. Between them, the cold salmon sat untouched, a sad little relic of whatever normalcy they’d had before Monoma decided to burn it all down with his theatrics. If either of them were more well-read, one might have made some poetic remark about how the lifeless fish perfectly mirrored the state of their current predicament— cold, unappetizing, and steadily rotting. Shinsou exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to strangle Monoma now or let him keep talking, just to see how much worse this could possibly get. Then strangle him.

"Well, yes, but only for a few months. We pretend to be engaged, let everyone believe it’s real, which they already do, then stage a breakup. Tell everyone we learned we had different plans for life that clashed with each other and we are better off friends.” Monoma said.

“Well we'd have to be friends first.” Shinsou said and Monoma usually assume the other meant it as a joke. But right now he was starting suspect it wasn't.

Monoma gave him a pressing look, “Shinsou, just listen to my plan. This is serious.”

“Oh yeah, your idiotic plan so no one realizes you fake proposed to me for free food is very serious.” Shinsou said, he shifted in his seat and started to relax more, “food you could have easily afforded by the way. Besides, how would any of this benefit me?”

“Easy you get to tell people you're engaged to the number ten hero.” Monoma said, which got an unimpressed look from Shinsou. He thought for a second, trying to come up with an actually good reason. Finally, Monoma’s eyes light up, “money. Think about it, you're an underground hero, and I know the government doesn't pay you well. So maybe if brands see you're associated with me, they will be more inclined to do brand deals with you. Plus more people will know who NightHide is. They will know who Shinsou Hitoshi is.”

Shinsou didn't respond right away. He took a second to take in what Monoma had to say. Sure, he didn’t go into hero work for recognition or money. He became a hero to save people, to prove himself despite the quirk he was born with. But Monoma wasn’t wrong about the government paying him next to nothing. His rent had just gone up, and he’d already had to cut back on little luxuries— like the occasional takeout, decent coffee, and, worst of all, the cat café near his apartment that he’d been frequenting less and less. More money meant more time with the cats, maybe even the chance to finally adopt one instead of just being a wistful visitor.

Still, the thought of faking an engagement to Monoma of all people wasn’t exactly appealing. Monoma, with his dramatics, his smug smirk, his ability to make everything feel like a theatrical performance. Then their was the fact he be in the public eye more, something he was never a fan of. But he wasn’t an idiot. Shinsou knew when Monoma actually took a second to stop and be serious, his plans were usually pretty decent. Plus, if this ridiculous plan actually worked, if people genuinely believed they were engaged, then maybe some better income would start rolling in. 

And maybe— just maybe, it would be nice to have someone in his corner for a little while. Even if it was Monoma. Even if it was all a lie.

Shinsou sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. “A few months, huh?” His voice was reluctant, but there was a hint of something more behind it. Like when you dip your toe into a pool when it's cold outside. Obviously the water would be freezing, yet you did it more as a test to see exactly how bad it actually was.

“I promise. Social media will forget about it in a week or two, then we milk it for a few more months after that. You know so it seems more believable” Monoma said rather too quickly.

Shinsou groaned, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. He was going to regret this. He just knew it.

Shinsou slowly tilted his head back up and looked Monoma in the eyes. “Fine. But only for a few months.”

“I promise only for a few months. Once the hype dies down we can end this.” Monoma reassured him.

“Oh and don't expect a goodbye kiss when I leave.” Shinsou added. Although it was hard for Monoma to know if he was being serious or if he said it as a joke and given their circumstance he picked the latter. 

However that didn’t stop him from teasing Shinsou. Monoma's lips curled into a devilish smirk, and a sparkle behind his eyes. “Oh, Shinsou,” he purred, propping his chin on one hand, his elbow resting lazily on the table. “You say that now, but give it a few months, and you might be the one asking for a goodbye kiss.”

Shinsou leveled him with a flat, unimpressed stare. “Not happening.”

Monoma clicked his tongue. “We’ll see about that.”

Shinsou knew he had made the biggest mistake of his life the moment he agreed to Monoma's plan. He knew it deep down in his bones. He had the same feeling, one got when they knew a storm was coming; dark clouds rolling in, the way the air thickened. That undeniable and inevitable feeling it brought with it.

Monoma, on the other hand, looked absolutely thrilled. Smug, even. He was practically glowing, and Shinsou thought for a second he was going to jump out of his chair in excitement. To those unaware might as well have thought Monoma just pulled off the con of the century. And Maybe he had. Maybe this was all another grand, elaborate scheme he had been plotting for years, just waiting for the right moment to pounce on Shinsou. If it was, Shinsou had walked right into it, willingly put his foot into the bear trap Monoma set up.

—

The next few days were utterly chaotic, to say the least.

It started with Monoma making a meticulously, overly detailed list of everything they needed to do to convince the world they were actually engaged. A schedule. A relationship itinerary. Even a goddamn backstory to their relationship, which he said would be important in case people started to ask questions. They needed to make sure they were on the same page about things. Shinsou glanced over at the mess of papers laid out on the dining table in front of him. Monoma had labeled sections, subsections, and frustratingly color-coded highlights. Shinsou had stopped reading after the first page, and shoved the mess of papers back towards Monoma.

“Alright, we will need to be seen together," Monoma said as he tapped his finger against the papers as if they were a sacred text. "Publicly. We need to go on dates. You know, walks in the park, hand-holding, the occasional longing stares.”

Shinsou had stared at him, face turning into a grimace. “I refuse to longingly stare at you.”

“Fine,” Monoma said, and Shinsou was sure he saw the other roll his eyes. “We will work up to that.”

Shinsou was really going to regret all of this.

Then their first ‘date’ had been a complete disaster.

Monoma, in all his meticulous planning, decided a highly visible café was the best place. One where it conveniently overlooked a busy street, where they were sure to be seen. He had chosen the table by the window with purpose, ensuring that anyone walking past would see them. At first, everything had gone according to plan. They had ordered their drinks, made idle conversation, and settled into an atmosphere that, to an untrained eye, might resemble a casual date.

Monoma, of course, had decided to turned up the charm. He had touched Shinsou’s arm a little too often, brushing fingers over his sleeve, like he had be doing this for years already. His laughter had been just a little too rich, his eyes lingered too long, his smirk curled just enough to make it seem like it was genuinely romantic. Shinsou, meanwhile, had barely touched his coffee. His posture remained relaxed, but his eyes held that ever-present wariness, as if already calculating what, exactly, Monoma was trying to achieve. He tolerated the touches, the coy looks, but with the same patience he might extend to a particularly relentless cat rubbing against his leg.

Then, just as Shinsou brought his cup to his lips, Monoma let out an audible gasp. It was sharp and exaggerated, Shinsou had nearly choked. “What?”

Monoma, ever the drama queen, gripped his wrist. “Don’t look but there’s some paparazzi across the street.”

Shinsou, despite Monoma’s warning and his mind telling him not to, turned his head to look. Sure enough, a few people were gathered, their numerous cameras angled at them just enough that it wasn't super obvious, subtly snapping photos.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Monoma leaned in, voice a whisper. “Quick. Do something romantic.”

Shinsou blinked. “What?”

“Romantic,” Monoma hissed. “You know, something engaged people do when they're in love.”

Shinsou wanted to tell him he wasn't in love, so obviously he didn't know what to do. He let out an audible exhale. “You do realize I still have no idea what you want me to do, right?”

Monoma's first reaction was to laugh because what Shinsou said obviously had to be a joke. “Next you're going to tell me you've never dated before.” Shinsou's eyes widened then quickly shifted downwards, catching the attention of Monoma and out of his laughing fit.

“Never.” Shinsou said, his voice wasn't exactly at whispering level, however if not paying attention Monoma probably would have missed it.

Monoma looked Shinsou in the eyes as if he had just admitted to the most heinous crime. Then, before Shinsou could get another word out, Monoma reached over and took his hands in his own. He interlaced their fingers together.

Shinsou's brain short-circuited.

Monoma's palm was warm against his, the sweat added a somewhat unpleasant feeling to it. His grip was confident, as if he had done this a thousand times before. The casualness of it, the sheer boldness, sent an unexpected shiver down Shinsou's spine. There was no denying the faint blush across his face, he could tell it was present by how hot his face felt. He nearly yanked his hand back out of pure reflex, but from the corner of his eyes, he could see the cameras move slightly closer towards them. Shinsou took a deep breath and forced himself to stay in Monoma’s grasp.

Monoma, of course, looked utterly unbothered. “You look so cute when you're blushing, by the way.”

“I hate you,” Shinsou muttered.

“Say that with more love in your eyes, sweetheart,” Monoma shot back with an obnoxious grin on his face.

This was going to be a few long, painful months.

Chapter Text

The past two weeks had gone by more smoothly than Shinsou had originally thought. They had a couple more ‘date’ nights and an interview together with a local journalist for the daily paper, although Monoma seemed to do more of the talking. Not that Shinsou was complaining. He was never really been one to do interviews, and live televised ones were absolutely always a hard no. That was one of the main reasons he chose to stay underground, out of the public eye, and that had worked great. Until now.

Suddenly, it felt like all eyes were on him, an invisible weight pressing down on his shoulders every time he stepped outside. Anytime he left the house, people would recognize him, even in his civilian clothes. Most of them would just greet him a wave or a thumbs up, and the bolder ones would ask for a hug or a picture. While part of him wanted nothing to do with it, there was another part of him.

A part that enjoyed the friendly faces, enjoyed not being seen as a villain due to his quirk. Everyone who had interacted with him knew of him— knew of his quirk and yet none of them seemed afraid of him. Hell, some seemed overly happy to see him. It was definitely a strange feeling. Shinsou hoped this wasn't just because of the whole Monoma situation because he could get used to this. It was a warmth he hadn't expected, the kind that settled in his chest like an ember refusing to go out. A warmth he didn’t think he had ever felt before.

People had actually started to truly see him, not just as another nameless underground hero, but as a hero they could trust. And that thought unnerved him more than he wanted to admit.

Another thing he noticed was that Monoma was right about getting some brand deals. Only two weeks in and he already had two offers. Not a lot by most hero standards, but to him, it felt like a lot. One was for some hair products, which he turned down simply because he had never used them before. Shinsou wasn’t going to promote anything he didn’t approve of on a personal level. The other one was for a headphone company, and he had said yes only because he had used that brand’s headphones since middle school. Plus, they offered him a free pair of their newest headphones and a hefty check. All Shinsou had to do was narrate a new commercial for them. No acting on camera, no posting about it on his Twitter account.

Oh yeah, that was another thing. Monoma had gotten the brilliant idea to make him a Twitter account.

Although Monoma had given Shinsou multiple reasons as to why he needed one for the plan to work, he still didn’t fully understand why. Yet here he was, with a freshly made account. Monoma had made sure to be the first to follow himself, even added a bio, saying it looked more polished that way. Shinsou rolled his eyes when he read what the other had written:

‘Hypnosis Hero. Engaged to the loml @phantomthief.’

He would never admit to Monoma that he had to google what ‘loml’ meant or the loud sigh he had let out when he figured it out. Despite knowing that he could easily change his bio, he decided to keep what Monoma had written.

It did surprise Shinsou how many people had followed him. Granted, they were all fellow Pro Heroes and a few old classmates, but still, he had expected maybe Tokage and possibly Midoriya to be the only ones to follow him. Yet within minutes of Monoma’s meddling, his notifications had exploded.

Kendo had liked Monoma’s introductory post about ‘finally dragging his fiancé into the digital age.’ Tetsutetsu had replied with a string of fire emojis, while both Tokage and Kaminari, ever the instigators, had commented, ‘So when’s the wedding?’ which had immediately prompted Sero and Mina to jump in with gifs of dramatic proposals and wedding dresses.

Shinsou groaned, rubbing his temples. He should have changed his bio the second Monoma handed over the account. He should have expected this level of chaos. He had spent years keeping his personal life private, and now, in the span of a week, it felt like Monoma had dragged him into the center of a goddamn rom-com. But instead, he just scrolled through the replies, half-amused, half-annoyed at how invested their old classmates were.

Midoriya had sent a simple message: ‘Excited to finally see you on here, Shinsou!’ while Iida had left a proper, overly formal welcome message that probably took him five minutes to type.

But it was Bakugou’s reaction that had him stifling a laugh. A single reply to Monoma’s tweet:

‘Tch. He’s your problem now.’

No context. No explanation— just pure Bakugou.

Monoma looked over at Shinsou with a questioning look. “What’s so funny?”

“Just Bakugou’s reply.”

“If he’s bothering you, there’s a cool feature called the block button,” Monoma told him, completely deadpan. “Trust me, it’s the best thing created. I use mine religiously.”

Shinsou stifled another laugh. “Yeah, you blonds sure know how to bother others. Push all the wrong buttons.”

“Or maybe all the right buttons.” Monoma shot him a wide, snarky grin, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Once Shinsou was back home, he decided to check out Monoma’s account— not in a stalker way, obviously. No, this was simply gathering intel on his ‘fake fiancé.’

He read the other’s bio: 'The Copycat hero #numbertenhero. My better half @nighthide.’

A link to a few different companies he promoted was attached underneath. The tweets were a mixture of retweets of French decor and travel photos, a few brand deals, and the occasional post about his life.

But one post, in particular, caught Shinsou’s eye.

A selfie of Monoma lying down at what had to either be an animal shelter or a cat café, given the sheer amount of cats surrounding him. They were all curled up against him, their little paws stretching over his chest and stomach, completely at ease. Shinsou bookmarked the post— not because of the way Monoma’s blue eyes seemed to pop out or the way his smile looked almost… soft. No, he bookmarked it simply so he remembered to ask Monoma where he was when he took the picture. Strictly to remember where to go next time he wanted to see some cats outside the café.

His phone buzzed.

Monoma: You’re keeping the bio. You must really love me <3

Shinsou sighed, fingers hovering over the keyboard before typing:

Shinsou: Not love. You said it would make this issue more believable to the public eye.

He was tempted to put ‘nightmare’ instead of ‘issue,’ but opted against it. His gaze flickered back to the bio Monoma had written. His finger hovered over the edit button for a moment before he sighed and tossed his phone onto the couch.

Yeah. He wasn’t changing it.

But only for the sake of the arrangement. No other reason. At all.

His phone buzzed again.

Monoma: You wound me, dear fiancé. Here I thought we were building something special.

Shinsou rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. He already knew where this would go if he did, and he had already endured Monoma’s nonsense enough for one night. Monoma had the persistence of a cat chasing a laser pointer— except the problem was, Shinsou was the laser pointer. And Monoma? He wasn’t giving up until he had him pinned.

Shinsou leaned back against the couch, exhaling through his nose.

This was all just a ridiculous PR stunt.

So why the hell did it feel like something more?

Shinsou internally shook the though from his mind and rolled his eyes at the text. He decided it was best to ignore it rather than responding to Monoma’s theatrics. He’d already seen where that got him— Monoma had the persistence of a cat chasing a laser pointer. Except the problem was, Shinsou was the laser pointer. And Monoma? He wasn’t giving up until he had him pinned. He could already picture him now, with his overly dramatic self, pretending to be wounded by Shinsou’s response. The exaggerated gasp, the hand over his chest, the inevitable, “You wound me, my dear fiancé!” delivered with such conviction it could win an award.

Shinsou had been on the fence about this whole situation from the start, and the last thing he needed was to add more fuel to Monoma’s insufferable nonsense. But it was getting harder to tell if he was merely tolerating it or slowly getting used to it.

Instead of indulging Monoma further, he made his way over to the couch and stretched out, his muscles sinking into the cushions with a tired sigh. His eyes traced over the patterns in the rough ceiling texture, absentmindedly following the jagged lines as the past week replayed in his mind like an overplayed recording. He still wasn’t sure how he ended up in this mess— well, he did know. But more specifically, he didn’t know how Monoma had roped him into something this absurd without him immediately rejecting it. And yet, somehow, here he was, engaged to Monoma Neito— at least in the public’s eyes.

Annoying? Yes.

Confusing? Absolutely.

But was it the worst thing he’d ever dealt with?

Surprisingly, no.

He picked up his phone again, scrolling through his notifications before landing back on the picture Monoma had posted— the one with him surrounded by cats. He hesitated for a second before finally liking it, reasoning that it would help make their arrangement seem more believable. That was all.

Definitely only for that reason.

It wasn’t because Monoma looked… different there. Less put-together, less polished like he usually was in front of a camera. There was no dramatic posing, no carefully calculated smirk— just him lying down, utterly relaxed, a sea of fur nestled against him. His smile was softer, his expression more open. It almost looked real. Not the public-facing Monoma, but the real one beneath all of that theatrical bravado.

Something Shinsou had noticed over the past week was that most of Monoma’s magazine photos and social media pictures weren’t as genuine as they seemed. There was always a certain distance to them, a careful control over how he was perceived. When Shinsou had asked about it, Monoma had waved it off with a simple, “Oh, I am happy, but being on all the time is exhausting, you know?”

And now, after dealing with reporters and the public eye for only a week, Shinsou understood exactly what he meant.

His phone buzzed.

Monoma: You’re staring at my picture, aren’t you?

Shinsou exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He should have expected this.

Shinsou: Delusional.

Monoma: You know I can see when you like my photos. Next time if you're gonna lie, at least be more believable.

Shinsou stared at the screen, his eye twitching slightly. He had been about two seconds away from throwing his phone across the room, but then he realized how expensive a new one would be. Monoma wasn’t worth the cost of a replacement phone.

He took a deep breath before responding.

Shinsou: I only liked it so our arrangement would be more believable.

Monoma: Well, if you want it to be more believable, why not add a comment too? I'm thinking, “I love my strong, handsome, perfect fiancé” or maybe “I can’t wait to marry the best hero in the world.”

Shinsou’s eye twitched again.

Shinsou: No.

Before Monoma could respond, he set his phone onto the coffee table, face down. He had already dealt with him more in this week alone than he had in the past five years combined. He needed a break— Monoma was like a parasite that burrowed into his brain and refused to leave. If he had to deal with him one more time tonight, he was going to lose his damn mind.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally— finally felt himself start to relax for exactly six minutes.

Six whole blissful minutes.

Then, there was a knock at the door. Shinsou groaned at the loud banging and a few things ran through his mind.

One: if it was a reporter that somehow found his address, he was slamming the door in their face.

Two: if it was Monoma, he was going to kill him— then slam the door in his face.

Three: maybe if he stayed perfectly quiet, whoever it was would assume he wasn’t home and leave.

The knocking continued.

Persistent. Loud. Annoying.

He sighed, dragging himself off the couch. “This better not be who I think it is,” he muttered under his breath as he stomped to the door.

He cracked it open slightly. “What can I help you with—”

The door was pushed open the rest of the way by the person on the other side.

Tokage slipped past him without waiting for an invitation, plopping down onto his couch as if she owned the place.

“Yeah, it’s totally cool for you to come in,” Shinsou said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he shut the door behind her.

Tokage stretched out, placing her feet up on his coffee table with a shit-eating grin. “Nice to see you too, Shinsou.”

He folded his arms over his chest, unimpressed. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Busy ignoring Monoma, you mean?” Tokage teased, tilting her head. “I’d say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”

Shinsou sighed heavily, already regretting opening the door. “Tokage, if this is about—”

She cut him off, grinning. “Relax, I’m just here as a concerned friend. You know, to check up on you. And definitely not because I want to hear more about you and Monoma.”

She turned her head, locking eyes with him in an almost predatory way before adding, “Oh, and to see how long you two plan on being fake engaged to each other.”

Shinsou inhaled sharply— too sharply causing him to choke on his own spit.

He coughed, thumping his chest as Tokage watched him with barely-contained amusement. Had they really not been that convincing? After all the over-the-top prepping Monoma had done, after all the goddamn effort to make it look real— was it really that obvious?

He glared at her. “How did you know?”

Tokage’s grin widened like a predator about to pounce and then she burst out laughing.

“I didn’t.” She gasped between laughs, clutching her stomach. “You just confirmed it.”

Shinsou froze.

His brain short-circuited. He stared at her, realization dawning at an agonizingly slow pace.

“…I hate you,” he muttered, deadpan.

Tokage wiped a fake tear from her eye, still laughing. “No, no, no, you love me.” She leaned back against the couch, sighing happily. “God, that was too easy. Monoma must be rubbing off on you. Usually, you’re harder to crack.”

Shinsou dragged a hand down his face, exhaling a slow, tired sigh. This was going to be a long night. He could already tell by the way Tokage was looking at him. Half amused, half eager for drama that he wasn’t getting out of this conversation any time soon.

"Anyways," she said, leaning forward with a smirk, "how did he rope you into one of his many, many schemes? Because knowing Monoma, there’s no way this just happened. You got played, huh?”

Shinsou rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. He knew he was going to have to explain. There was no way Tokage would let it go otherwise. So, rubbing at the back of his neck, he started from the beginning, piecing the whole ridiculous mess together out loud.

He told her about Monoma’s absolutely idiotic idea to scam free food— an idea so ridiculous it should have never even been entertained. Then about Kirishima, of all people, who had somehow ended up involved, filming the entire fake marriage proposal and blasting it across social media like it was the most heartwarming thing he’d ever seen.

"And then it just... spiraled," Shinsou muttered, rubbing his temples. “People ate it up. And I mean ate it up just because they ‘love our story.’ Monoma’s playing it up for the camera, and I’m just standing there wondering where my life went wrong.”

Tokage snorted, clearly holding back laughter. "So how did he actually convince you? Because no way you agreed just to be nice."

Shinsou hesitated, jaw tightening. "The money," he admitted finally. "I mean, we didn’t even expect it, but it just started rolling in. Tips, sponsorship offers, people sending us stuff... and, well, I’m not exactly in a position to say no to extra cash."

Tokage whistled. "Damn, so you're profiting off of this scam marriage? That’s actually kind of brilliant."

"Don’t encourage it," Shinsou grumbled, but she could tell he wasn’t really mad.

And then, as if sensing there was more to it, Tokage tilted her head. "Alright, but how has it changed things? Because you don't seem too miserable about it."

Shinsou shrugged, gaze shifting away. He didn't tell her everything. He didn’t mention how, somewhere along the way, the changes had stopped feeling like just an elaborate con. How he was getting used to it. How he almost liked the way people looked at him now— not with distrust or unease, but with something softer. How, deep down, the idea of Monoma being attached to him wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

He didn’t want to admit any of that. Not to Tokage. Not to himself.

So instead, he settled for, “I guess it’s just... different.”

Tokage, sharp as ever, caught the hesitation. But instead of pushing, she just grinned. “Different, huh? That’s an interesting way to put it.”

Shinsou groaned, already regretting saying anything. "I hate that look on your face."

"Oh, don’t worry, I’m just really looking forward to seeing how this all plays out,” she teased. “Because I know Monoma. And if there’s one thing he’s best at, it’s making a mess of things."

Shinsou sighed again. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

"So this is only for the extra income?" Tokage gave him a look and patted the cushion beside her, signaling for Shinsou to join her

"Of course. What other reason would there be?" Shinsou asked as he walked over to sit down next to Tokage on the couch.

Shinsou wondered exactly what she was trying to get at. With her, when she said something, it often meant something deeper, as if she was trying to find answers to a question in her head. And instead of coming out and just asking said questions she would basically play a game of twenty questions to figure out the answer.

And right now definitely felt like one of those times.

"Well it's just…" She stopped and looked away from Shinsou as if she knew something more and wasn't at liberty to say. "Humor me for one second. If I asked you to be fake engaged to me for the money would you do it."

"Hell no. I don't like you like that." He said rather too quickly for his own liking.

Tokage shifted in her seat, eyes lighting up as if the last light bulb had finally been screwed in. "Oh but you do like Monoma like that?" Her elbow nudged him in the side.

"That's not what I meant." Shinsou rebutted, earning a unconvincing 'mhm, sure' from Tokage. "I don't like him like that. It's just when you hang out with him as much as I have for the past two weeks you start to notice things. Like he really not that bad of company, but the money is still the main and only real reason."

"What are you saying trying to say? I'm bad company?"

"Once again not what I meant. As much as I hate to say it your company is nice half the time. It's just different with Monoma." Shinsou leaned back into the couch letting the softness wrap around him, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Tokage, can we just drop this whole thing. I came home so I didn't have to think about Monoma, and I'd actually like to try and do that."

Shinsou watched as Tokage's mouth opened, he could practically see the words about to slip off the tip of her tongue, only for her to shut it again. She knew continuing the conversation was pointless. He recognized that hesitation, that look in her sharp green eyes. She really wanted to say something,maybe a joke or a snarky remark, but she held back.

That had always been one of the things he liked about her. Sure, Tokage was relentless, always trying to stick her nose into issues that weren't her problem, always pushing past the limits. However, she knew when to back off. As much as she would pick and prod at Shinsou like she was a kid tapping the glass of a fish tank that clearly said 'do not tap', she also understood boundaries. If he told her he was done with a conversation, she wouldn't push further. No arguments, no sarcastic responses, no lingering tension. She'd just move on, even if, deep down, she didn't want to.

It had been the main reason why she had been the only person from Yuuei he still kept up with on a semi-daily basis. Despite how chaotic she could be, there was something about her presence that was comforting— well, maybe 'comforting' wasn't exactly the right word. Bearable seemed more fitting for Tokage.

She never took things too seriously, nor did she demand more from him than he was willing to give. She simply existed in his life. Sending him a casual check-in text or some ridiculous meme he never fully understood. She showed up when she felt like it and vanishing just as easily when he wasn’t up for company.

That kind of balance was rare, and Shinsou found himself appreciating it more and more as the years went by. He never cared to admit it to her, that would inflate her ego too much.

The two easily fell back into conversation that didn’t involve Monoma. Well in the end Tokage ended up doing most of the talking, mainly about what she had been up to for the past two weeks. Shinsou rested his elbow on the armrest, leaning his body into it and eyes closed as he listened to her. Every once in a while he would open them up to give her a questionable look when she said something obscured. Like when she mentioned that, a week ago, she had almost gotten permanently banned from Belgium, despite never having been to Belgium. The whole situation didn't make sense to him, but he knew asking her to explain would only make him more confused.

Their banter had continued on longer than both had anticipated. Through closed eyes, Shinsou could sense the sun beginning to set. He sighed, opening his eyes and pushing himself upright. He looked over at the large windows lining the far wall, taking in the sky's hue shift from orange to a dark purple color and the last rays of sunshine peeking through.

"It's getting kind of late." Shinsou told her.

He didn’t mind her being over this late, but he needed to get ready for night patrol, and Tokage needed to head home to get a decent amount of sleep.

Tokage caught the hint that Shinsou was done for the night. "Yeah, I should probably get going. It's been nice being able to catch up with you. I know you're engaged to Monoma but try and keep in touch still." She made sure to make quotation marks with her fingers when she said 'engaged'.

"I'll try."

Tokage finally got up from the couch and walked to the front door, hesitating for a second as her hand gripped the knob. She looked back at Shinsou one last time. "And Shinsou make sure you take care of yourself. I know Monoma means well, but sometimes his schemes tend to do more damage than actually help."

"I'm a grown adult Tokage, I think I can handle myself." He said, voice a tad bit annoyed. He knew she meant well. He took a deep breath before continuing, "thank you for worrying about me though. It's appreciated."

And with that, they said their final goodbyes, and Tokage was gone. Once she was gone Shinsou grabbed his phone to check and see if he had time to make a quick dinner before he had to head out. '7pm' Guess tonight was going to be another night of gas station cup noodles and onigiri. The screen also displayed three notifications. Two text from Monoma from a a few hours ago.

Monoma: You say that like I wasn't the one who created the password for your account. I can just log into it and write it for you

And five minutes later, another text read:

Monoma: That was a joke btw. I wouldn't actually do that to you or anyone. I know how to respect other's privacy.

Shinsou made a mental note to figure out how to change his password, just in case.

The tweets had been from Tokage. The caption read 'helping @nighthide plan his wedding!' and a photo attachment.

He unlocked his phone to be able to view the photo. It was a picture of him from earlier, eyes closed and resting against the armrest. He wondered when exactly she had taken the photo, there had been a questionable expression on his face, as if he were deep in thought. Probably during the Belgium story, but he didn't think to much more about it.

The only thing on his mind now was figuring out how he was going to murder her the next time they hung out.

Chapter Text

Routine was never something Shinsou particularly cared for. He preferred to go about his days on his own terms, doing what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted— without being tied down to any rigid structure. That was precisely what he didn’t get with Monoma. Somehow, without even realizing it, he had fallen into a pattern— a rhythm that seemed to settle into place around them as naturally as breathing. Of course, he had no doubt that Monoma’s meticulous planning had a hand in it, orchestrating their time together with an almost frightening level of precision. Yet, despite his usual resistance to structure, Shinsou found himself slipping into the routine without complaint, without even thinking about it, as if it had always been meant to be.

Every day, Shinsou woke up to some new social media account nitpicking every small gesture they made during their most recent interview. Whether it was Monoma’s eyes lingering a second longer than what the viewers deemed acceptable. Or if Shinsou sat even an inch too far from Monoma, it might as well have been the end of the world. And of course, Monoma always followed up with his own nitpicking about the interview. 'They should have used warm lighting instead' or 'They definitely took what I was trying to say out of context'. At first Shinsou would roll his eyes and say Monoma was overreacting. Now, however, after doing a many interview as he had, Shinsou was starting to not mind Monoma nitpicking. Sometimes he even found himself agreeing with him.

Then Monoma made them go on their dates at least three times a week. It was like clockwork: Tuesdays were their morning to stroll through the park, Thursdays were their brunch date and Fridays were their dinner date. Each place they went was always chosen by Monoma, which was fine, Shinsou didn't get out enough to truly know what places were worth going to or not. Besides most of the places they went Monoma usually knew someone within that seemed to always seat them right away no matter how packed the place might be.

And each date always included paparazzi. At first, it had been a few distant flashes, a couple of journalists lingering by restaurant entrances or parked across the street, pretending not to be waiting for them. Shinsou had assumed after a couple of dates, the attention would fade, that the initial hype would settle like he was told. Yet, it felt like the complete opposite.

What had started as a few discreet photos taken from a distance soon escalated. Small groups here and there turned into a growing swarm, their cameras held high, their shouts blending into an overwhelming cacophony. They waited outside cafes, trailed them from shops to sidewalks, jostled for angles whenever they so much as stepped outside. Flashing lights burst in his vision like fireworks, leaving white spots burned into his sight long after they moved past the crowd. Conversations became interrupted by the clicking of shutters, the occasional invasive question lobbed their way like a thrown stone. Privacy had become an illusion, every glance, every movement, every unguarded smile cataloged, dissected, and sold to the highest bidder.

It was suffocating.

Yet, despite all of that Shinsou had started to enjoy Monoma's company during their dates. Granted he wasn't going to go out of his way to seek said the other's company if Monoma didn't already pre-plan something for them. It was just nice to talk with someone on occasion that wasn't Tokage or his mom.

The more they hung out together, the more Shinsou realized he and Monoma weren't all that different. Especially in their upbringing. He’d be lying if he didn’t find it fascinating how they could have such similar childhoods yet end up with completely different personalities. Or how if people actually took a second to really listen to Monoma's idiotic rambles they weren't as idiotic as one might think. If you actually tried to understand the others point of view he actually had some pretty solid ideas and opinions.

Shinsou had never been one for routines, but he was starting to enjoy them more. The warmth that settled in his body when the day came from their next date had felt nice. It felt nice to have someone he could consider a friend.

And just when Shinsou had finally gotten used to having a routine, Monoma had to go in ruin it.

"Shinsou?" Monoma called out.

Shinsou looked down at the sidewalk, back up at Monoma a few feet a from him, and then back down at the sidewalk. When did he stop moving? When did Monoma get ahead of him?

"Shinsou, buddy you okay?" He heard Monoma ask him, his voice closer than the last time.

He looked up to see Monoma next to him once again. He internally shook away the weird static feeling inside of his brain, "I'm sorry what?"

"I asked you where you wanted to have our date this time?"

Shinsou thought for a second. It was Thursday, so that meant brunch. He knew a total of zero decent brunch places that they haven't already been to. Monoma had always picked where they went, he had been so meticulous about it too. So, why now did he what Shinsou to pick? And why was something a picking somewhere to go seem to fluster him so much?

"You pick."

"Shinsou, I always pick. I've picked out where we've gone for the past three weeks, it's your turn." Monoma told him. He shifted his weight as allowed himself to feel the cool breeze passing by. "Besides a relationship is meant to be equal. Both sides of the party have to put their own input in."

"Once again we are not dating." Shinsou said as he crossed his arms. His response only received him a look from Monoma that was a mixture of 'I know' and 'just pick something'.

Shinsou signed, running a hand through his unkempt hair as he mulled over the dilemma. There really wasn't many places he went to, and even fewer that seemed even remotely screamed romantic enough for a date. Especially one that would match the same energy as the places Monoma had taken them.

The library was an immediate no. Too quiet, too studious, too much of a risk that Monoma would get bored and start running his mouth just to entertain himself. Or worse Monoma would be too quiet leaving Shinsou alone with his thoughts. That was definitely something he tried his best not to do— being alone with his thoughts for too long has never ended well.

The local gas station was, for obvious reasons, out of the question. Not that Shinsou didn’t enjoy the occasional convenience store run, but even he could admit that the flickering fluorescent lights and the smell of cheap food weren’t exactly romantic. And as much as he would rather chew glass than admit it, he did want this to go well. If it had to happen, he wanted to at least put in the bare minimum effort to ensure Monoma didn’t immediately start questioning his decision making skills.

There was also his house. Which was an absolute no. His home was his sanctuary, and Monoma, with his loud opinions and dramatics, would absolutely ruin that. He could already picture it— Monoma critiquing his furniture choices, analyzing the number of cat-related items he owned, probably digging into his bookshelves just to psychoanalyze him for fun. No way in hell.

That left one last place. The cat café.

Shinsou exhaled slowly, considering it. It wasn’t terrible. He liked the place, the environment was relaxed, and best of all, it was full of cats— something he could rely on to distract Monoma if he got too annoying. It was public enough that things couldn’t get weird, and he wouldn’t have to worry about Monoma accusing him of not trying hard enough if he just let the cats do most of the work.

Yeah. Yeah, that might actually be his best shot at getting through this unscathed.

"There's a cat cafe back near my apartment." Shinsou said, hands gesturing vaguely in the direction of the cafe.

Monoma let out a hum of approval, "Well lead the way."

He felt as Monoma linked his arm around Shinsou's, gravitating his body a tad closer than usual. Shinsou felt the warmth of Monoma radiating off of him and on to his own body. The touching was nothing new, even before the whole situation. Monoma always had some part of his body on whoever he was with, and at first Shinsou had chalked it up to the fact the other's quirk required physical touch. So it had only made sense he wanted to touch others to copy their quirks. However, Monoma had informed him recently that wasn't the case. Monoma wasn't one to take quirks from those close to him without asking, or if it was during dire situations like a fight with villains. In all reality Monoma really didn't know why he was so clingy at times. It was just how he was.

At first the excessive about of touching was suffocating, burned even. Shinsou had never been one to receive or offer kinship. Now? Now, it barely registered in his head when Monoma touched him. Only realizing when Monoma stopped touching him and realized the warmth was gone.

Shinsou led them through the city as Monoma told him about what he had been doing since the last time they saw each other. Which mind you had only been two days ago.

Another thing Shinsou noticed about Monoma was he could talk and talk without showing any signs of stopping. God, he could take the most mundane thing, like deciding between Gala or Fiji apples for the week, and turn it into a ten minute rant. While Shinsou didn't fully understand why apples were given such a long rant, he didn't mind it. He occasionally hum or make a face in response. It was a nice dynamic they had going.

Soon the two of them reached the cafe. Shinsou could see from the windows the inside didn't look too busy. Only a couple people scatter around inside. It was never busy during this time on Thursday, and he would know. Shinsou had perfectly calculated when the cafe was the most busy and made sure to avoid the place during those hours. He unlocked his arm from Monoma and opened the door, gesturing for him to go on first.

"Aw, what a gentleman." Monoma said with a wink as he made his way in. Shinsou only rolled his eyes as he followed behind.

They were quickly greeted by a few cats rubbing up against their legs. It took everything with on Shinsou to not toss Monoma aside and play with them the whole time. Shinsou did have manners and he knew it be rude to ignore his date, even if said date was all pretend. A few seconds later one of the employees greeted them and let them know about the specials they had going on this week.

"Why don't you order something for us, while I go grab us a seat." Monoma said, then began to make his way over to a small booth in the corner.

One more thing he noticed about Monoma— not that he was keeping a mental list or anything.

Okay, maybe he was keeping a mental list.

The other thing he noticed about Monoma was he really didn't have a huge sweet tooth. Sure he did enjoy the occasional dessert when they were out, I mean come one dessert was how they got into this mess in the first place. But Monoma never ordered the most overly sweet, tooth rotting thing on the menu. He had always opted for something in the middle, usually something that has fruit with it, allowing their natural sweetness to be enough to curb his craving.

Shinsou placed their order, then leaned against the counter, watching as the barista worked on their order. The soft hum of conversation filled the cafe, blending with the occasional hiss of the coffee machine and the quiet, contented purring of the cats lounging around the room. It was peaceful. A sharp contrast to the chaos of flashing cameras and invasive question that were the norm on all their other dates.

His gaze flickered toward Monoma, who was currently crouched beside a particularly fluffy gray cat, fingers gently scratching behind its ears. His usual theatrics were absent; no over-the-top commentary, no dramatic monologues— just quiet fascination. Monoma looked relaxed. Comfortable. It was a strange sight.

Shinsou didn’t stare for too long. He turned his attention back to their order, double-checking that he’d picked something that wouldn’t result in an entire critique session from Monoma. A pineapple turnover and taro milk felt like the safest bet. Not overly sweet, unique, and just pretentious enough to appeal to Monoma’s finicky taste. As for himself, he went with his usual: tiramisu and a large black coffee.

The barista handed over their tray, and he carefully balanced it as he walked over to their table, setting everything down before taking a seat.

"Oh, you're back— wait is that pineapple? How did you know I love pineapple." Monoma said as he grabbed the turnover and basically shoved half of it into his mouth. Of course Shinsou knew pineapple was his favorite fruit. It's not like he didn't listen to Monoma's describe in great detail for twenty minutes one time as to why pineapple was the superior fruit. "You really are the best fiancé a guy could ask for."

“You’re really taking this whole ‘relationship’ thing seriously, huh?” Shinsou muttered, keeping his eyes on a small calico cat near them.

“Of course I am,” Monoma answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Unlike you, I actually put effort into things.”

Shinsou scoffed. “Excuse me? I put effort into plenty.”

“Sure,” Monoma said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Like what?”

“Like making sure my socks match.”

Monoma gasped, clutching his chest like Shinsou had just shot him. “you wound me. Matching socks are so outta style, have been for over two decades. Here I am, being a perfect, caring fiancé, and you repay me with insult to my fashion sense?”

“You’re not my fiancé.” his voice laced with annoyance as he sipped his coffee.

Monoma made eye contact with Shinsou, giving him a devious look, "explain to me why we're on a date then?”

Shinsou sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “You really think you’re funny, huh?”

“I know I’m funny.”

Shinsou didn’t dignify that with a response, and began to eat his tiramisu. Making sure to fully enjoy every last bite, unlike Monoma who had already finished his turnover in less than ten seconds.

Once Shinsou finished his food, he finally indulged in the white and orange tabby cat that had been rubbing against his legs the whole time, begging to be petted. He reached down and picked the cat up, allowing herself to curl into Shinsou's arm. Shinsou turned the name tag to figure out if she was Peaches or Cream. He read the tag, 'Cream'. Made since Cream had always been more lovey than her sister, Peaches.

When you frequent a business enough you start to learn all of the employees names and their quirks. Granted in Shinsou's case it was the cats the inhabited the business he knew all about. And just like employees you tend to favor one over the others, even if you don't mean to. That once again was the case for Shinsou and the cats. He will never say it out loud but there was a older black cat named, Tanya that he seemed to gravitate to more often than the other cats.

Subconsciously he had been petting Cream on the top of her head just behind one of her ears. Her soft purrs and sleepy meows had started to get at his heartstrings, although he kept a stoic look on his face.

Shinsou leaned back against the booth, his gaze leaving the cat and on to Monoma. He watched as the other stared back at him. Wonder how long he's been staring? "What?"

Monoma tilted his head slightly, lips pursed as if he had been deep in thought, "Nothing. Just thinking."

“That's dangerous,” Shinsou muttered.

Monoma rolled his eyes but didn't take the bait. Instead, he rested his elbow on the table, placing his chin in his hand. He watched Shinsou closely. "You're comfortable here."

Shinsou frowned. “Obviously.”

Monoma’s smirk softened, turning into something almost thoughtful. “No, I mean, you’re really comfortable here. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen you since we started this whole arrangement.”

Shinsou felt a flicker of unease. He didn't like being dissected, didn't like being read so easily. But Monoma wasn't wrong. It was nice not being overwhelmed by the attention of others. It was just him and the cats— and Monoma. It was no mistake Shinsou always felt calmer around cars. He was actually jealous of them. If a cat wasn't in the mood to play with the human they could just leave without a word, and whomever was trying to play with them won't keep bothering them. If only humans could do the same for other humans.

He decided it was best to end that conversation there. Shinsou turned his attention back to Cream, who was now fast asleep in his arms. He knew it was going to break his heart when he had to inevitably had to set her down to leave.

"Hey, no. Don't lick me, please." He softly heard say. Looking over the table he noticed Peaches had joined them, her paws grabbing Monoma's hand trying to lick it. "I'm sorry, bud."

"I get cat tongues are rough but they aren't going to kill you."

"I'm allergic to cats." Monoma said in the most deadpan tone Shinsou had ever heard from him. Then a familiar annoying laughter Monoma saw the look of worry on Shinsou's face. Yup, the normal insufferable Monoma he knew was back. "God, you should see your face right now. Don't worry, I'm only allergic to their saliva and I just get a bad rash from it."

"That's good I guess. I thought was going to have to pick between you and the cats." Shinsou felt Cream stir in his arms, as if sensing Peaches was near by and wanted to be close to her sister. As he placed her down, he looked up at Monoma, "I'd pick the cats."

"I'm not surprised. Anyway I probably should get going. I think I've bothered you enough for today." Monoma said as he began to scoot out of the seat.

Shinsou grabbed Monoma's wrist before he could fully get up. "Hey—" he said pulling his hand away from Monoma as his cheeks turned slightly red. His hand now fidgeted with the half empty coffee cup. He thought for a moment before continuing, "would you wanna go back to my place?"

Why did he just say that? What was wrong with him? Well, a lot of things but that was besides the point. It wasn't like he had blurted it out too quickly to realize. No, he had gave himself time to think about what he was about to say and still said it. Still went against everything he told himself earlier about his apartment being his personal sanctuary. How the last thing he wanted was for Monoma to disturb his sanctuary.

Yet, here he was offering Monoma the opportunity to do so.

"Wow Shinsou taking me back to your place. How scandalous." Monoma teased, his eyes lit up a bit more than usual. "I'd enjoy that."

"Your place is lovely," Monoma said as he walked into the apartment. "I was expecting an empty room, but you actually got furniture and decor. Granted, it's not a lot. Still, I like the vibe."

"Why wouldn't I have furniture?"

"I don't know, man. You're just so… well low-maintenance, I assumed you'd have the bare minimum." Monoma told him.

Monoma stepped further into the apartment, his gaze sweeping over the space with a keen eye. The open-concept layout was unexpected. It helped give the space an airy, unrestricted feel to it. He had half expected something far more closed off— something as guarded as its owner.

The kitchen, though compact and neat, clearly showed signs of use. Good to know Shinsou actually cooked and didn't just live off of takeout. The deep green cabinet, dark wood flooring and charcoal countertops were all spotless aside from a few mugs drying by the sink. There was an island with two simple barstools tucked neatly underneath. It broke up the space perfectly, better than any wall could have.

Monoma's head turned to look over at the large bay window that lined the far wall. The natural light streamed through it, giving it a warm inviting look. Beneath it was a cushioned bench, the wood slightly worn at the edges. Clearly, Shinsou had spent a considerable amount of time there, which made sense given how cozy the space looked. A folded throw blanket resting on the corner and a couple pillows next to it. The sill was lined with a few books and a handful of plants, their leaves trailing just enough to suggest they weren't merely fake decor, but actually plants that were well cared for.

He moved over into the living space, everything felt natural, like it all belonged there. Not too empty that it made you wonder if this was a living space or a ward at the mental hospital. Not overly designed either— just enough to be comfortable, not enough to be fussy. A deep brown couch faced a low coffee table, where a wax warmer sat, harden wax still left in it. A small TV sat in front of the couch and coffee table, nothing overly fancy but not outdated. The bookshelf against the wall harbored a few more books, there was a mix of worn and pristine spines— psychology, philosophy, detective novels, and a few autobiographies by Proheros quietly tucked in among them. No posters, no unnecessary clutter, just the presence of someone who preferred function over excess. Even without an abundance of furniture, the space didn’t feel empty. It felt lived-in.

Monoma made his way over to the couch, plopping down gracefully and leaned back onto the soft cushions. His gaze shifted to the two doors that branched off the main room. One slightly ajar, revealing the edge of a tiled floor, clearly the bathroom. The other closed, safely assuming that lead to what was undoubtedly the bed room. Monoma's gaze lingered on it longer than it should have, curiosity sparking. A bedroom always revealed the most about a person, it was the one place where they let their guard down. It showed all of the hidden secrets the owner wanted to keep hidden from the world, and Monoma was curious as to what secrets Shinsou's room held.

This apartment already told him more than he expected— Shinsou wasn’t just scraping by in some bare-minimum setup, living like a ghost. He had a space that felt intentional, private but not unwelcoming. For all his assumptions, Monoma realized he had underestimated just how much Shinsou had made this place his own.

"So, Shinsou at what point in the date do you take me to the bedroom?" Monoma teased, looking up to see Shinsou was in the kitchen pouring them some water.

Shinsou rolled his eyes as he made his way over to the couch. He placed the two glasses on a pair of coasters before sitting down next to Monoma. Their thighs brushed, close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s touch without overlapping. Neither of them acknowledged the strange, warm spark that ran up their spines at the contact. Why did Shinsou subconsciously sit so close to Monoma? It wasn't like they were in public putting on a show. They were in his apartment, no hidden cameras. Nothing. They truly were alone.

So why did Shinsou seem to actively search for Monoma's touch?

"Never."

"You say that now, but just you wait." Monoma turned his torso to look at Shinsou, "seriously though your place is actually really nice."

"I'm glad my apartment is up to your standards." Shinsou said with a roll of the eyes.

"Anyways, I got a question to ask. I recently got invited to a Gala for the top twenty Proheros and I was wondering if you'd be my plus one?" Monoma asked him.

"A Gala?"

"Yeah you know those high-end parties the rich throw that really is just a way to flex how rich they really are. I get that something like that really isn't your thing, but I think it might be fun." Monoma said, his voice worried as if he had insulted Shinsou or something. "It's in a month and I expect for this—" he gestured between the two of them, "to continue during that time, so it be strange to not have my fiancé there as my plus one."

"I'll go and once again I'm not your fiancé." Shinsou told him.

"Wait really?" Monoma looked at him, surprised. Just when he thought he had Shinsou figured out a curve ball was thrown his way making him realize he didn't know everything. "That's amazing." He let out a soft chuckle, "so, wanna watch a movie or something?"

Shinsou didn’t bother replying verbally; instead, he leaned forward just enough to grab the remote from the coffee table. Without a word, he held it out toward Monoma, a silent invitation for him to choose. Monoma took it without hesitation, flicking on the TV and scrolling through the movie options. When nothing caught his interest on one streaming platform, he switched to the next, sifting through titles until something finally stood out: an old action filled American Western.

Satisfied with his choice, Monoma carelessly tossed the remote back onto the coffee table. It landed with a dull thud, earning him an unimpressed, “Don’t throw my shit,” from Shinsou.

Monoma gave him an apologetic smile. The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as the movie started to play. They were lucky Monoma found a version that had Japanese dub because neither of them were in the mood to read subtitles.

The first half of the movie started off slow, yet captivating enough to catch the viewer's attention. Well, at least Shinsou attention. Monoma however was trying his best to not fall asleep. It wasn't his fault. The movie was already forty minutes in, and for it being action filled it was seriously lacking any action. His head tilted back against on to the couch, eyelids hung low threatening to close with each passing second. He tried his best to fight the tired feeling for as long as he could, until he lost the battle allowing sleep to wash over him.

The sound of a low snore filled the space, pulling Shinsou’s attention away from the TV and onto Monoma. At first, he simply glanced over, expecting to see the other shifting in his sleep, but instead, he found Monoma completely still, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Shinsou blinked, his gaze lingering longer than intended.

Monoma looked so relaxed, as if he had been seriously needing some rest. The usual tension that lined his features, the ever-present smugness or theatrical dramatics, had completely melted away. His face was slack, peaceful, almost serene in a way Shinsou had never seen before. The golden strands of his hair had fallen over his forehead, catching the dim light from the television, and his lips were slightly parted, breath slow and deep.

Shinsou swallowed, shifting slightly on the couch to get a better look— not that he needed to, but something about the sight held him captive. He was always used to Monoma being loud, over-the-top, constantly narrating every thought that came into his mind with a pointed arrogance that grated on people. But now, in the quiet of the room, curled up in sleep, he was something else entirely. Peaceful. Vulnerable.

Cute.

Cute? Hold up— did he just seriously think Monoma was cute? Over-the-top, loud-mouthed, insufferably dramatic Monoma? That Monoma? What the hell was wrong with his brain right now? The thought made no sense.

Wait actually, it did. Shinsou had read somewhere that people often found those close to them cute when they slept. It said something about how their facial features relaxed, how peaceful they looked in unconscious stillness. It was a natural response, a simple observation, nothing weird about it. It wasn’t any different from watching a sleeping cat, really. The way their defenses dropped, the way they curled into themselves, utterly unaware of the world around them. That’s all this was. Just a natural, harmless thought.

"Yet, as he glanced back at Monoma’s face soft and unguarded in sleep, a tiny, traitorous part of his brain whispered: : Yeah, right.

Shinsou let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, eyes flicking back to the TV for a second before inevitably returning to Monoma’s sleeping form. His fingers twitched against the couch cushion, a fleeting thought tempting him to reach out and push back the stray strands of hair that had fallen over Monoma’s closed eyes. Or to wrap his arms around Monoma's waist, pulling him in tight and resting Monoma's head against his shoulder He shook his head slightly, forcing himself to look away, but even as he tried to focus on the moving images on the screen, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that awoke inside of him.

Not long after, the credits started to roll. As much as his mind screamed at him to let Monoma continue to sleep he decided it was best to wake him up. Monoma had to work tomorrow morning and he knew the other didn't just keep an extra hero suit on him. Having to wake up earlier than your shift to get your stuff from home was never fun. Plus Shinsou had important stuff he had to do as well, like sleep.

Shinsou nudged the others side with his elbow. Monoma let out a disapproving noise as he was woken up, his hand moved to rub at his eyes. "Huh?" He opened his eyes to see the TV screen was now black. "Wait did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, like half way through the movie. Don't worry you didn't miss much." Honestly Shinsou wasn't sure what Monoma had even missed. He was too preoccupied sneaking glances at Monoma to pay attention to the rest of the movie himself.

"The first half was pretty boring so I'm not surprised. Anyways—" Monoma stood up, stretching his arms over his head, "I should really get going. Today was a lot of fun. Let do something like this again soon."

"Don't get used to it."

Monoma laughed as Shinsou stood up as well, and began to escort him to the front door. He turned the knob and pulled the door open from Monoma. The other gave him a quick smile before he started to head out. Monoma had only taken three steps before turning back, finding the door already half-closed.

"Shinsou…"

The door creaked open slightly. Shinsou stared at him, waiting.

"Uhh.. I just wanted to say… good night."

"Night, Monoma." Then he quickly shut the door before Monoma could say anything else.

Shinsou wondered if he needed to make an appointment with the neurologist tomorrow. Because why had he allowed Monoma into his house? Why did he start to not mind Monoma's touch? And why in the ever-loving fuck did he agree to go to a Gala with Monoma?

Shinsou let out a deep sigh, leaning his back against the now-closed door as he ran a hand through his hair. His apartment felt different somehow— quieter, emptier, like Monoma had taken all the noise and warmth with him when he left. Which was ridiculous, because Shinsou liked the quiet. He thrived in it. So why did it suddenly feel off? His fingers tapped absently against the doorframe, his mind replaying Monoma’s hesitant good night, the way his voice had dipped, just slightly, as if he had wanted to say something else.

Shinsou pushed off the door, muttering to himself as he made his way to the bedroom. He wasn’t going to think about it. Not about how easy it had become to fall into step with Monoma’s plans. Not about how normal it felt to have him here, to have him take up space in his life, to have his presence linger even after he was gone. And definitely not about the fact that, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone.

Chapter Text

Monoma had thought being in the top ten for the Hero Rankings would’ve been nice—maybe even fun. And don’t get him wrong, it was… in a way. But it was overwhelming, to say the least. From working extra team missions, half of which honestly would’ve been fine without him. To attending more quirk workshops for Uraraka’s foundation. Guess having the number ten hero show up meant more kids would sign up. And okay, sometimes they were fun. Watching the next generation of Pro Heroes enjoy themselves, love their quirks was nice. Nice to see kids wouldn’t have to grow up the way he did.

Then there was the stupid Gala he had to attend this weekend. Meant to celebrate the top twenty Pro Heroes and highlight their most memorable moments this year. So it wasn’t like he could just not go. At least Shinsou would be there.

Oh, and speaking of Shinsou, the whole fake engagement thing was going well. Maybe even too well. Usually, by now, the hype around him would’ve died down. It always had in the past, whenever Monoma trended on Twitter. But not this time. This time, it felt like the only thing people talked about was them being together, and it was starting to worry him. If this was how people reacted to the engagement, what the hell would it be like during the fake breakup?

He could cut their dates down to maybe twice a week, sure. But getting to hang out with Shinsou three times a week was nice. Rare, even. Monoma didn’t spend much time with others. Sure, he got invited to parties by his old classmates now and then, but half the time, people were drinking or the music was too loud for any kind of real conversation. When he was with Shinsou, it was just them. No crowded bars. No obnoxious strobe lights blinding him. Just them.

He enjoyed their time together, so that’s why he couldn’t reduce the dates. And part of him liked to pretend Shinsou loved them just as much.

Monoma wondered if Shinsou even had proper attire for the Gala. Probably not. While Shinsou did dress nicely, his outfits were more casual date with my fake fiancé and less important event with my fake fiancé. It also might have been unfair for Monoma to assume Shinsou didn't own something like a nice suit and tie. Come on—any normal guy would have at least one hidden deep in their closet.

Still, he made a mental note to text Shinsou a few credible stores where he could get one. Wouldn’t hurt to send him the details for his personal tailor either, just to be on the safe side.

He sighed as he leaned against the building behind him, arms crossed as he scanned the surroundings for anything out of the ordinary. Things had been fairly calm today. Everything had quieted down a lot since the war. But villainy was still a thing, so he still had to do his heroic duties this afternoon.

“Guess being the number ten hero means you get to slack off.” The voice was teasing, holding no ill will.

Monoma turned his head toward the voice to see Tetsutetsu walking up to him.

“And what villains would you like me to fight?” he asked, gesturing toward the practically empty road. Besides the people in the stores across the street, there was an old man and a lady trying to somehow walk eight dogs at once.

"I'm joking, dude," Tetsutetsu said as he lightly punched Monoma in the arm—okay, maybe lightly by Tetsutetsu standards. In reality, it was a pretty solid punch, and Monoma had to hold back a wince.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what are you doing here? Thought you worked down in Nagoya?”

“Still do. Kendou has been dying to check out some new stores that opened in the mall here. Although she ended up meeting a few girls from U.A. and ditched me,” he replied.

Made sense. Tetsutetsu was in his street wear. It'd be kind of dumb for him to be working right now—unless graphic t-shirt and cargo shorts were suddenly his new Pro Hero uniform. Now, however if it was an undercover job the outfit would make sense. But Monoma didn’t really think he was meant for that type of work.

“By the way, how have you two been?” Monoma asked, straightening his posture a bit. “Neither of you really talk about your relationship when I text.”

“We’ve been as good as always, although I don’t think we’re planning a marriage anytime soon. Not like some people,” Tetsutetsu said, flashing a wide grin. “By the way, congratulations.”

“True, it'd be bad if our friend had to go back to weddings,” Monoma chuckled softly. Yup. A wedding that was never gonna happen. “And thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Honestly, I’m shocked you kept it hidden that long. You? Mister I-need-everyone-to-know-my-business.” Especially when we’d go out for drinks. You’re quite the secret sharer when you’re drunk, Monoma.”

Tetsutetsu was right. His brain-to-mouth filter definitely stopped working when he drank. Which was exactly why he rarely ever got drunk—barely even drank at all. Last time he did, he may or may not have told half their old class that Komori had a crush on Kuroiro since second year. But hey, the two started dating not long after that. So it all worked out in the end.

“I mean, I should’ve seen it coming.”

Monoma met his eyes with a confused look, head tilting slightly. “Come on, man, don’t give me that look. It was pretty obvious you had a crush on Shinsou back in the day. I know you’re a touchy guy, but you were trying to get your hands all over him during joint training.”

Crush?

Absolutely not. No way in hell Tetsutetsu just used the C-word and Shinsou in the same sentence like it was normal. Like it wasn’t absurd. Like it wasn’t—okay, maybe Monoma was spiraling. He probably just starting to lose his hearing, or maybe he’d just misheard him. Whatever the case, Monoma knew the truth. He knew heard him correctly. But, Tetsutetsu didn’t know the whole situation was fake. He was just twisting past experiences to make it easier to wrap his head around the two of them being engaged.

That was all.

"Geez, you make it seem like I was some crazed, lovesick teenage girl writing his name over and over again in my notebook with hearts all around it,” Monoma said, trying his best to keep his voice level.

“Well, I didn't say that. But you know, you looked at him like he was the only guy in the room… and from pictures of you two, you still kind of do.” Tetsutetsu shrugged, hands in his pockets, leaning back on his heels with that unshakable ease of someone who wasn’t the least bit embarrassed by what he’d said.

“Oh, thanks. I'll be sure to add that to the file labeled ‘things to psychoanalyze at 4 a.m.’” He let out a small, awkward chuckle, trying to make his joke more believable. Although he knew that’s exactly what he would be doing.

“You do that.” Tetsutetsu grinned again, giving him a lazy salute before his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and made a noise that might’ve been a groan. “Kendou’s done shopping. Which means my afternoon is over.”

“Oh no, the tragedy,” Monoma said in an overly exaggerated tone.

“Whatever. Anyway, it was nice to catch up for a bit.” Another punch—this one lighter than the last. Then he turned and began to walk away. He stopped after a few steps and looked back at Monoma. “Tell Shinsou I said hi. And try not to stare at him too much like a lovesick idiot when you think no one's looking.”

Monoma didn’t answer. Didn’t move. Just stood there, as if he’d been told life-changing news. The corner of his mouth twitched, unable to open, frozen between retort and defeat.

Because he had looked at Shinsou like that without even realizing it.

Not during joint training—no, that had been a look of annoyance, admiration, respect, envy, all tangled together in a knotted mess. A mess too impossible to parse.

But now?

Now he caught himself watching Shinsou laugh and thought about what it might feel like to be the reason for it. Now he stood too close on their “fake” dates and let himself get lost in the warmth of Shinsou’s voice, the dry way he told stories that made Monoma smile even when he tried not to. Now he made excuses not to cut back their time together, not because it would look suspicious if they didn’t, but because he just didn’t want to.

Yet he refused to justify his reasoning behind Tetsutetsu’s words. Well, one word: crush.

Disgusting.

The word tasted bitter, trapped in his mouth. You know why? Because he didn’t. He never had a crush on Shinsou before this, and he definitely didn’t have one now. There was no need to give some elaborate reason. Just like with Tetsutetsu, his brain was subconsciously playing up the whole engagement thing. Come on the brain was a funny, complex thing. Every look, every touch, every word—everything his brain made him do was simply to play up the act.

All he had to do was survive the rest of this week and the Gala. Then Operation ‘Fake Breakup with Shinsou’ could begin.

Monoma was pulled out of his little world and back into reality when he felt his phone buzz. His hand reached into his pocket, grabbed it, looked at the message.

Shinsou: What time are we meeting for this Gala?

Shinsou definitely had bad timing. Or maybe it was perfect timing? It was as if he had a sixth sense that alerted him whenever Monoma talked or thought about him. Not like he did that all the time. But still, when he did, Shinsou seemed to perfectly pop into existence. May it be through physical appearance or, in this case, a text.

Monoma’s hands hovered, hesitant over the keyboard, trying to think of some stupid, flirty response. But there was nothing. He sighed. Guess a normal response would have to do.

Monoma: It’s in Fukuoka, so I was thinking we could meet at my house Friday morning and take the train up there.

Monoma: And don’t worry, I already booked us a room… well, the Hero Commission did.

He should’ve turned his phone off and stuck it back in his pocket, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared at their messages, waiting for those three bubbles to appear, like a dog waiting for its owner to return home. He was so lost in his thoughts that if a villain attacked right now, he’d be too distracted to notice.

Then they appeared. Those three bubbles popped up on his screen. They disappeared just as quickly, then reappeared again. Monoma wondered what Shinsou was typing that made him stop and rethink it.

Shinsou: Okay

God, that boy was the driest texter he’d ever met. No “oh, how thoughtful” or even a snarky comment about sharing a hotel room with him.

Monoma: Also let me know if you need good spots to get a quality suit if you don’t have one already. I know a few people who can get you a good deal.

Shinsou: I already have one. I’m not some bum.

Monoma: Never said you were. Besides, I’d never get engaged to a bum anyway.

There’s that teasing personality he knew and loved. Whatever strange epiphany he’d had earlier was definitely over and he was back to his normal self.

Shinsou: We are not engaged.

Monoma couldn’t think of a reply, so he opted to leave Shinsou on read. He turned off his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. His mind tried to drift away from Shinsou and what Tetsutetsu had said earlier. His eyes wandered, looking for anything worth his attention. There still wasn’t much. He did notice, inside one of the stores—a small bakery, where an older man was clearly yelling at an employee. While he couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, he could see the girl behind the counter looked visibly distraught.

He may not be a villain, but I should probably go mediate the situation. He used his foot to push himself off the wall and started to head across the street. I just hope the rest of this week isn’t as boring as today.

As he walked, he felt his phone buzz again. He didn’t check it. He refrained from looking at it. He had a job to do. And not because he was worried if he looked, he’d unintentionally start to smile. Or because any of the people in the bakery might see that giddy smile and—

Well, the next thing you know, he would be that lovesick teenage girl with Shinsou’s name scribbled across her math notebook in glitter pen, dotting the i with a heart.

He was not and never was.

Monoma paced around the train station, nerves rattling through his body like static. It was 5:45. He’d told Shinsou to meet him at their designated pick-up point by 6. It was more than plenty of time before their train departed. Rationally, he knew that. But rationality had never stood a chance against the chaos of planning.

He was the type who scheduled things to the second. The type who spiraled when even one of those seconds slipped out of place. Nothing had gone wrong yet. But that didn’t stop the wave of anxious panic from coiling in his stomach like a tightening spring.

He forced himself to stop pacing, boots rooted to the tile. He couldn’t sit, not while his brain spun this fast. Instead, he turned to double-check his bags for the sixth time—yes, sixth. He'd already done this five separate times before leaving the apartment. But what if he forgot something this time? What if he had to buy toothpaste in Fukuoka like when he had a perfectly good tube already? He unzipped his suit bag, eyes darting over the fabric inside. Crisp, wrinkle-free, pristine. Good. Last thing he needed was to show up to the Gala looking like he’d slept in his clothes. The media would definitely notice and make their snarky comments about it. They’d done it before, and they will do it again.

Barely satisfied he looked up, just in time to spot a familiar figure approaching in the distance. Monoma’s heart jumped in his chest. He waved both hands overhead with way too much enthusiasm, a grin splitting his face.

Why was I even panicking? Shinsou was early. Five minutes early.

Monoma zipped the bag quickly, stood, and threw his arms around him as soon as he was in reach, hugging him tight. He could feel the subtle way Shinsou's muscles tensed.

“Monoma,” Shinsou said flatly, “we saw each other, like, three days ago. You don’t have to squeeze me to death.”

“What, I’m not allowed to hug my fiancé now?” Monoma teased, laughter bubbling up. He released him, stepping back with a mock-offended pout. “You’re gonna make people think this is all fake.”

“Because it is fake,” Shinsou muttered under his breath, glancing around like someone might be eavesdropping.

“I know, I know—God, you really need to learn how to take a joke,” Monoma grinned, fishing into his pocket and handing over a train ticket. “Train should be here soon.”

As if summoned on cue, the overhead speaker announced their train arrived earlier than expected. It was almost obnoxiously cinematic, like something out of a cheap rom-com with too much soft lighting and unrealistic dialogue.

They grabbed their bags and headed for the doors. Monoma slipped his hand into Shinsou’s, intertwining their fingers as he lead them into the first class section. Perks of a high hero ranking: the Hero Commission had footed the bill. And Monoma had definitely chosen first class on purpose. He wasn't about to ride coach when he could have champagne or and legroom on someone else's dime.

The first class cabin screamed comfort: soft lighting, plush seats and the kind of silence that made even whispering feel too loud. Monoma placed their bags into the overhead storage and handed one of the employees near by their suit bags to be placed into one of the closets. He made sure to tell them be extra careful with the bags. Monoma settled down into the winder seat, fingers still twitching from the adrenaline. He took a deep breath reminding himself everything would be fine and there was absolutely no reason to worry. Shinsou took the seat beside him with his usual unbothered slouch, legs sprawled with the confidence of someone who’d grown used to attention but had stopped caring about it a long time ago.

The train rumbled and began to move, the motion was smooth. Monoma turned his head to the window looking out at the scenery, building blurred together. He tried to busy himself by readjusting his seat, fluffing the provided tiny pillow, pulling the lap blanket across himself only to immediately discard it—too warm. He couldn’t help himself for glancing over at Shinsou. No movement. No reaction. The other just leaned back with his eyes half-lidded, arms crossed like this was all routine. Like Monoma did not just spend all of last night and this morning worrying over this trip.

About thirty minutes in, Shinsou pulled out a pair of tangled earphones from his pocket. He didn't say a word. Just untangled them with a surgical like precision, pulled them into his phone and slotted them into each ear. His head tilted slightly, just enough to show music was playing, tuning out any outside noises.

Monoma went from sneaking small glances to full on staring now.

It wasn’t even staring. It was observation, dissection—like Monoma was preparing for an exam he hadn’t studied for, and Shinsou’s face was the textbook. He took in every detail: the way Shinsou’s jaw relaxed just slightly when he was truly at ease, the barely-there crease between his brows that hadn’t quite smoothed out.

Monoma watched for the flicker of emotion, some twitch of muscle that would give away the song’s effect. But there was nothing. No tapping of fingers to the beat, no unconscious mouthing of lyrics, no bob of the head. Just stillness. That same unreadable face, eyes half-lidded and distant. It was unnerving, how Shinsou could disappear like that with nothing but a pair of earbuds and a song. Like the world around him didn’t exist anymore.

The silence between them thickened, not awkward but strange—like they were both drifting in separate currents on the same tide.

Then, without looking, Shinsou took out one of the earbuds and held it towards him. Monoma blinked. Took it slowly, his fingers brushed against Shinsou’s with a bit of hesitation. He settled the earbuds into his own ear and waited, skeptical if he’d even like Shinsou’s music taste. He fully expected some underground grunge band or heavy metal to blast his eardrum.

But nothing like that cam through the earbuds. Instead the sound of violins, perfectly playing together in harmony. Monoma sat up straighter, brow furrowing. He would have never taken Shinsou for the classical type. The music began to pick up in less of a unbearable way, and more of a relaxing way. A few cellos started to join in and he could feel the rhythm in his chest. It curled around his rib cage like it was alive.

He glanced over, “I was not expecting that. I fully thought you'd like… well something heavier.”

“My mind is already a mess, loud music would just make it ten times more messy.” Shinsou calming explained, still not looking at Monoma. “Classical music is nicer anyways. Calming and no annoying lyrics.”

Monoma didn't say anything back for once, opting to continue listening to the music. He leaned his head onto Shinsou's shoulder and wrapped one arm around his torso. If he did this a couple months ago Shinsou would have already pushed him off, but now he allowed it to happen, only letting out a small sign. Monoma closed his eyes, letting the sound of Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for Strings wrap around him like a blanket. The music lolling him to sleep. His breathing slowed, syncing with the steady rise and fall of Shinsou's chest beneath him. Every swell of the strings seemed to soften the tension in his limbs. Shinsou didn’t move, didn’t speak, just let him stay there, warm and weightless. Monoma’s fingers twitched once against Shinsou’s arm before going still again, as if his body was trying to say something his mouth couldn’t.

Monoma felt Shinsou’s shoulder move slightly up and down, and woke up him from his nap. He wasn’t how long he’d been out. He opened his eyes, sitting up slowly, as he stretched out his arms and cracked his neck like that had been the only reason he’d been pressed up against Shinsou for nearly half an hour. “I drool on you?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

Shinsou gave him a sidelong glance, unplugged the earphones and shoved them back into his pocket. “You’d be dead if you did.”

“Huh. Still alive. Must mean I’m the perfect fiancé.”

“You’re not,” Shinsou said, but his voice didn’t have any bite. He leaned forward to grab a bottle of water one of the employees must have dropped off while Monoma was asleep. Shinsou unscrewed the cap, taking a sip before handing it over. “Drink something before you get cranky.”

Monoma blinked at him. “Wow. You do know me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He took the bottle, their fingers brushing again, and drank. The cool water rushed down his throat, and for some reason that made the heat in his face worse.

Why did that feel domestic?

He shoved the thought into a mental box and slammed the lid shut, sealing it with metaphorical chains he had no intention of unlocking anytime soon. Instead, he turned his attention to the window, watching as the landscape rushed past—trees dissolving into streaks of green, buildings flickering like old film frames. It was easier to focus on motion, on the illusion of progress, than to let his mind wander

“They announced we should be at the train station in about five minutes.”

“Oh, cool.” Monoma said keeping his eyes out the window.

The next five minutes were probably the quietest of Monoma’s life. Not the awkward kind, not heavy or stilted, but the sort of quiet that curled up between them like a cat in a sunbeam—warm, still, and entirely content to exist. Something about being around Shinsou in the silence felt grounding, like the world stopped demanding anything from him.

The blurred scenery started to slow as the train began its descent into the station. The brakes hissed beneath them, metal groaning softly as the car gave a gentle jolt before easing to a full stop.

Shinsou moved first. Smooth and unhurried, he stood and reached for his bag overhead, slinging it across his shoulder in one practiced motion. Monoma’s gaze followed him before getting up himself, adjusting his jacket and smoothing his shirt like it mattered. He grabbed his bags and made sure to retrieve their suit bags from the closet, careful not to wrinkle the fabric.

He kept his gaze off Shinsou, trying not to make too much eye contact. If he did, he might start thinking too much again—and he’d just barely silenced that part of his brain.

Once they stepped off the train, it wasn’t long before they were cramming their belongings into the back of a taxi. The hotel was probably within walking distance, but neither of them felt like dragging their luggage through the streets. The ride over mirrored the train ride. Monoma staring out the window in silence, while Shinsou leaned back with his earbuds in, lost in his music.

Monoma wasn't sure what was going on his head, but whatever it was needed to stop. He tried to focus on the passing buildings outside, taking in all of the architecture. Despite being a large city like Tokyo, Fukuoka had a vastly different feel. Everything here seemed to have more laid-back, quiet as if everyone wasn't in a rush to be somewhere. Monoma even found himself contemplating asking if they needed any hero work down here. A more permanent change of scenery didn't sound too bad, especially given how nice the area seemed.

He was pulled away from his impulsive urge to move when the car came to a stop. The two made their way out of the taxi, grabbing their belongings and thanked the driver. The hotel wasn’t exactly a five-star resort, but it wasn’t some rundown motel either. A resort’s probably out of the Hero Commission’s budget anyways, Monoma thought considering they were providing transportation and lodging for the top twenty heroes. Besides, he wasn't planning on spending his whole trip cooped up in the hotel room.

They made their way up the pathway to the front doors. Monoma pulled the door open and motioned for Shinsou to go ahead. Shinsou gave him a small nod in return as he made his way inside. Once inside Monoma could just feel the hospitality radiating through out the hotel. The lobby was calm, bathed in warm lighting that made everything feel soft and comforting. There was a cozy looking sitting area to the right, a dispenser with fruit flavored water nearby. A rack of brochures highlighting things to see in the area to his left, and a large wooden counter front and center.

Monoma strolled over to the counter, offering a polite smile to the receptionist behind it.. “We have a reservation. It should be under Monoma Neito.”

“Yes, sir. Give me one second to figure out which room you two will be staying in.”

Monoma gave her a thumbs up as she typed away on her keyboard. He looked back to see Shinsou hadn't followed him. Instead, he was occupying himself with some of the free water. He watched as Shinsou leaned up against the table, cup in one hand, the other causally trying to fix his hair like it would somehow tame the mess. Even though he had spent a lot of time with Shinsou lately, Monoma was only just noticing how easy on the eyes he was. Monoma watched the way the warm lighting danced across his face, catching his lilac colored eyes. The sight made Monoma's throat go dry for a second. There was a time Monoma found Shinsou’s unruly hair to be lazy, even irritating. Now it was captivating. The idea of him with neatly styled hair felt unnatural and so wrong that the thought made a shiver run down Monoma’s spine. A he wanted to do right now was run his fingers through it and—

“Sir?”

Monoma jumped a bit and turned back to the girl, “yes?”

“Sorry, sir. You two will be staying in room 509.” She told him and held out two key-cards.

Monoma grabbed them, “Thank you.”

“Of course and enjoy your stay.”

He gave her another quick smile and turned away, heading toward Shinsou with confident, precise steps. In one smooth motion, he passed him one of the two key-cards, their fingers brushing for the briefest second.

“Here,” Monoma said, voice light, almost teasing. “Try not to lose it.”

Without waiting for a response, he pivoted and led the way down the hallway, his pace measured but brisk. Shinsou followed just a step behind, watching the back of Monoma’s head bob slightly with each stride. Monoma murmured the numbers as they passed each door, more to himself than to anyone else. “506… 507… 509.” He came to a stop, turning slightly to glance at the number again before looking at the door with a subtle, satisfied smirk.

Shinsou halted right behind him, so close their shoulders nearly touched. The corridor was quiet, dimly lit by wall sconces that cast a soft golden hue across the carpet. Monoma slipped the key-card into the lock, the soft beep and mechanical click breaking the silence. He pushed the door open with a casual elegance and held it there, standing half in the doorway, half out.

“What—”

“Monoma, can you stop blocking the doorway? I’m trying to put my stuff down.” Shinsou tried his best to push past Monoma, making his way into the room.

Once inside, he understood why Monoma had froze. The room was adorned with battery operated tea lights all throughout. Then on the dresser was what looked like an expensive bottle of red wine. Finally, across the bed—the queen-size bed, were a few rose petals arranged in the shaped of a heart.

“You booked us a honeymoon suite?”

Monoma wasn't sure how to read Shinsou's tone, there was a hint of shock and something that screamed murderous attempt. “No, the hero commission booked us a honeymoon suite,” Monoma said matter-of-factually. His legs finally moved, letting him stumble into the room.

Shinsou placed his bags down to the side before turning on his heel, making his way back to the door. “Excuse me,” Shinsou said, slightly pushing Monoma out of the walkway.

“Where are you going?” He turned to look at Shinsou as he walked past.

“I'm going to tell the lady at the front there was a mix up with the rooms… and get a room with two beds, preferably.” he said the last part under his breath.

“No!” Monoma blurted out way too fast and absolutely too dramatically. Shinsou came to a stop, turning back slightly to look at Monoma. He let out an awkward cough before continuing, “I just mean it’d be weird if the engaged couple asked for a different room. It’d be better to just deal with the room to not cause unwanted gossip. Besides it's only for two nights.”

“Fine,” was all Shinsou said before shutting the door.

They stood in a strange silence, neither moving as if frozen in time for a few seconds after the door shut. Monoma peeled his eyes off the comically romantic decorations and kicked off his shoes, tossing his bag onto the small bench at the foot of the bed. Shinsou wordlessly did the same, moving with that same nonchalant efficiency he always carried.

“Gonna shower,” he muttered, already pulling his phone and charger from his pocket. Monoma gave a vague hum, not really listening as he dug through his suitcase, looking for his own pajamas and pretending he wasn’t watching the way Shinsou grabbed his things and disappeared into the bathroom.

The door clicked shut. Water started running. Monoma flopped backward onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had cursed him personally. It’s fine. It’s two nights. No big deal. He repeated it like a mantra, but his chest still ached like something stupid was trying to claw its way out. Why the hell did that look in his eyes earlier make my throat dry?

Monoma groaned and dragged a hand over his face. Maybe he was just tired. Maybe sharing a room with the guy he'd spent the last couple months being faked engaged too; all the teasing, trailing after, and accidentally thinking about a little too often was finally catching up to him.

Not more than fifteen minutes passed by before the bathroom door creaked open with a hiss of steam, and Monoma sat up instinctively. Shinsou stepped out, towel around his neck, hair damp and curling just a little more than usual, like a soft violet halo. He wasn’t shirtless—Monoma’s heart might’ve exploded if he were, but he wore a loose black T-shirt and sleep pants that hung low on his hips like they had a grudge against staying up.

Monoma’s mouth went dry anyway.

Shinsou looked up, pausing when he saw Monoma staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” Monoma replied too quickly, scrambling to make his face neutral. He stood and fiddled with his suitcase, avoiding eye contact like it’d burn. “I Just didn’t expect you to finish that fast. Efficient. Good. Great.”

Shinsou blinked at him, then walked past to toss his towel to the side. Monoma stared at the floor. Or maybe through it. What the hell is wrong with me? His heart was thudding like a trapped animal, stupid and loud. It’s just Shinsou. Same messy hair. Same deadpan stare. Same I-don’t-care-until-I-do attitude. It’s not—

He caught another glance at those lilac eyes, still wet lashes, that faint line down the middle of his throat where a drop of water hadn’t quite dried yet. He forced himself to breathe, to grab his own pajamas and bolt for the bathroom like it was a lifeboat.

The air inside was still thick with steam, clinging to his skin and fogging the mirror. He stood for a second, gripping the sink, staring at the hazy reflection of his own wide-eyed face. Whatever this feeling was it felt too tight and hot and stupid, it needed to go away. Now. He flicked the shower on, letting the sound of the water drown out his thoughts, and stepped in.

At least he left me some hot water, he told himself, like that mattered.

His shower was fast, maybe even faster than Shinsou’s. He barely gave the water a chance to do its job. All he wanted was to wash this feeling off his skin, pull on his pajamas, and fall asleep before his brain came up with more nonsense. Before it thought about Shinsou's eyes again, or the water on his neck, or what would it feel like to touch his hair. No stop that. Towel-drying in a frenzy, he dressed and pushed open the bathroom door, steam trailing out behind him.

He froze.

Shinsou was reaching into the closet, pulling out a pillow and blanket, arms full of bedding.

“Dude, what are you doing?” Monoma asked, voice halfway between incredulous and offended, like he’d just witnessed a crime.

“Going to bed. Or trying to, at least,” Shinsou replied, standing beside the small chair in the corner, a pillow tucked under one arm and a spare blanket draped over the other.

Monoma frowned. “Yeah, and the bed is over here.” He patted the empty side beside him. “Come on. It’d be stupid for you to sleep in a chair when there's more than enough room for both of us. Plus, I’d feel like an ass sleeping on the comfortable bed while you’re over there breaking your back.”

Shinsou didn’t answer. He just kept fluffing the pillow, spreading the blanket over the seat like Monoma hadn’t said anything at all.

Monoma narrowed his eyes, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. I’ll just sleep on the floor, then.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He probably thought it was just a bluff—until Monoma actually started tossing pillows down from the bed onto the hardwood floor.

“Wait…okay. Okay,” Shinsou interrupted, sounding exasperated. “But stay on your side of the bed.”

Monoma gave a smug little nod and scooped the pillows back up, tossing them lazily onto the mattress before sliding under the covers. He shifted around, trying to get comfortable, and paused when he felt the bed dip beside him. Shinsou had joined him—grudgingly, but still.

To Monoma’s surprise, Shinsou didn’t look too pissed about the whole thing. Tired maybe, irritated probably, but not furious. Shinsou turned away from him, reaching to switch off the bedside lamp. A soft click, and the room was swallowed in darkness.

Monoma stared up at the ceiling for a moment, debating whether or not to turn toward him. But that felt risky—too obvious. Back-to-back was safer. Less awkward. Less vulnerable.He sighed quietly, letting his body relax into the warmth of the bed.

“Good night, Shinsou,” he murmured into the dark.

Monoma was the first to wake up, an arm wrapped around him, the weight was comforting. He slowly opens his eyes, getting them adjusted to the sunlight that managed to sneak it's way past the curtains. He looked over at Shinsou. He looked peaceful. Utterly, impossibly so. The kind of peace Monoma had never really associated with him—at least not back in their school days, when Shinsou carried himself like someone always bracing for impact. Now though, there was no trace of tension in his face. His lashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks, lips parted just barely, breaths slow and even. One arm was slung around Monoma’s waist, the other tucked beneath his own pillow, fingers curled gently like he might be dreaming of something nice.

His hair was more a mess than usual, sticking out at odd angles, the strands falling into his face like they’d given up trying to stay in place overnight. But it suited him, it had made him look younger, softer. Vulnerable, in a way he’d never show when awake.

And the worst part—Monoma couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t just the quiet curve of Shinsou’s mouth, or the way the light hit his skin just right. It was the sheer absence of walls. Of armor. It was the way he looked so kissable.

Kissable?

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Chapter Text

Monoma didn't breathe… correction, couldn't breathe. His chest stilled like a single movement might shatter the fragile relationship—friendship—they had. If he shifted even a single degree, it would all be over. They weren't even really friends to begin with, all of this a simple act with the promise of extra income for Shinsou. And Monoma was there because he didn't want to be caught in the web of his own lie.

Why did this act suddenly feel too real, too fast? His heart was beating too hard, the beats rumbling in his ears. It clawed its way up his throat as if it were trying to escape, like it had something to confess. He couldn't let it out. Not now. Not ever. One wrong step and it would be the end. No amount of hero training could save him this time.

He swallowed thickly, forcing his heart down and back where it belonged, caged up inside of him. He bit his bottom lip, threatening to break skin, eyes darting across every detail of Shinsou's face. His jaw was slack with sleep, lips just the tiniest bit parted, breaths warm and even. Monoma could feel one of them brush against his cheek if he leaned just a little closer. Too close. He shut his eyes and counted back from ten, like that might stop the spiral. It didn’t. Rays of light shone through the crack of the curtains, landing perfectly on Shinsou. It was as if the Gods above had decided to utterly screw with him, sitting and laughing as their little puppet spiraled.

What the hell is happening to me?

This feeling was the kind of emotion one should feel when staring death straight in her face—a feeling Monoma had felt once or twice. A feeling he had felt during those times because he had been staring death straight in her face. So why the hell was he feeling the same way looking at Shinsou? One wrong thought, one unfiltered impulse and Monoma would—

Shinsou stirred.

Monoma froze, every muscle tensing as the arm around his waist twitched. Shinsou made a soft sound, something between a sigh and a grunt, and shifted closer, his forehead nudging into Monoma’s shoulder like it was instinct. His grip tightened slightly, fingers splaying just under Monoma’s shirt hem, and Monoma’s breath hitched audibly.

He should move.

He didn’t.

Instead, his hand twitched toward Shinsou’s back, hovering there like it wasn’t entirely his, like even it was afraid of what touching might mean. He let it drop again, fingers brushing the soft fabric of Shinsou’s sleep shirt. It was too much and not enough at once. He felt like a live wire, every nerve buzzing with restraint.

Shinsou mumbled something into his shoulder, voice hoarse and unintelligible, before falling quiet again. Monoma didn’t dare look down. If he looked down, if Shinsou looked up, if their eyes met—chaos. And not the kind Monoma could laugh off with a joke or a flick of his hair. The real kind. The messy kind. The kind you couldn’t walk back.

The kind that starts with just one kiss.

And holy hell, he wanted to.

But instead, he closed his eyes. Took a slow breath. He allowed himself to feel the weight of Shinsou’s arm, the press of his chest, the warm brush of his exhale. Just for a moment.

He needed to end this tonight. All he had to do was put on an act and pretend like he didn't just have a possible life-changing realization. It should be easy, right? Monoma had taken years of acting classes back in primary school; he could do this. Just act natural. All he had to do was get through today and the Gala, then after that end it. End this before he really did something worse than a fake proposal for some free desserts.

They stayed like that for a while. How long? Monoma had no idea. Could have been a minute or two, maybe even another hour. It was hard to keep track of time when you were trying not to have a panic attack. Here they lay, together. Monoma barely holding on to the ledge, looking down at a bottomless pit. Shinsou sleeping, peacefully, blissfully unaware of what was happening to the person right beside him.

Shinsou stirred for a second time, waking up for real this time. His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the bit of sunlight that had crept its way into the room. He grumbled something, low and unintelligible. His head turned up at Monoma, who was looking at him and not looking at him at the same time. Shinsou spoke again, words jumbled, muted as if they were underwater.

“Let go of me.”

Words now crisp and crystal clear in his ears. Monoma cocked an eyebrow, confusion on his face as he stared down at Shinsou, at everything—at nothing all at the same time.

“You're the one with your arm wrapped around me,” he said in a teasing manner as he tried his best to seem normal.

Shinsou scoffed, “and it's your legs that are holding mine in a death grip.”

No, he wasn’t—his legs were on his side of the bed, curled up—intertwined with Shinsou's legs. When did he do that? Why did he do that subconsciously? How did he not notice, not feel it? The way his skin pressed against Shinsou's, their body heat radiating off of each other.

“Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, unlocking his legs from Shinsou's and moving them away.

Shinsou didn't say anything at first, just gave him a dry look, lids still heavy from sleep. Then he rolled onto his back with a quiet sigh, hand sliding off Monoma's waist in the process. The sudden absence made Monoma's skin prickle—like the cold had crept in and taken up residence in the space between them. He didn’t move. He couldn’t.

“You good?” Shinsou asked finally, voice rasped with sleep and something else—something that sounded too knowing.

Monoma forced a smile, sharp and bright like it might cut through the atmosphere. “Never better. Just had a wild dream about swimming in a giant pool of green jello.”

“Huh.” Shinsou yawned. “And here I thought you were having a panic attack or something.”

Monoma’s laugh was too loud, too fast. “Please, as if I'd ever waste a perfectly good breakdown on a sleepover.”

Shinsou didn’t laugh. He just turned his head slightly, looking at Monoma through the corner of his eye. Not quite a stare. More like a study. Like he was trying to figure something out without saying it. Like he already knew.

Monoma felt his throat tighten. He glanced away, fixing his eyes on the ceiling like there was some kind of emergency exit sign hiding in the plaster. He needed to reroute. Get his composure back before he said something stupid. Before he said—

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” Shinsou muttered.

Monoma stiffened.

“You mean weird like pretending to be your fiancé in front of the entire media?” he shot back, voice a little too sharp.

Shinsou didn’t flinch. “No. That part’s been weird since day one. I mean… you.”

“What about me?”

A pause. Monoma could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Every beat of silence was a threat.

“You’ve seemed off, different,” Shinsou said quietly. “Not all the time, but still.”

Monoma’s breath caught in his chest. He swallowed hard, trying to force down the emotion crawling up his throat. “You’re imagining things. I'm just not a morning person.”

“Mhm,” Shinsou hummed. Monoma knew that Shinsou knew there was more to his strange behavior, but it seemed like he either didn't want to know or didn't care enough. “I'm going to see if the hotel offers breakfast, you can join me if you want.”

Shinsou sat up, stretching slightly as he got out of bed. He grabbed a pair of slippers and put them on. His head turned back to Monoma for a second, still lying in the same exact position as before. Something was definitely up, but right now he didn't have the energy to investigate further. The only investigating he needed to do was find out if the hotel had a breakfast bar, stomach growling thinking about it. His body moved down the small entryway, opening the door as he stepped out. The loud click of it echoing across the room as it closed.

Echoed around the now cold, empty room. Monoma looked up at the ceiling, eyes lazily following the fan as it spun. It spun fast, in a mocking manner. With a loud, overly exaggerated sigh, he pushed himself up and out of bed.

He probably should go eat something too, stomach hurting, though he wasn’t sure if it was hunger or nerves making it twist like that. Plus, he needed some space away from Shinsou.

Monoma moved around the room in a daze. His hands moved to the curtains, opening them up, letting the sun come in full blast. Then grabbed the hotel robe from the closet. Despite the warmth filling the room, he felt cold. He wrapped it around himself like armor. The plush fabric didn’t shield him from the swarm of thoughts still buzzing beneath his skin. He stepped into the bathroom, turning on the water and splashing his face. The jolt was bracing, but not enough. Nothing would be enough to rinse out the mess in his head. He looked up at himself.

The reflection in the mirror caught him off guard.

Monoma's reflection looked like it had been through a war… again. Hair wild, skin too pale, eyes rimmed red. He looked tired. Too tired. Like someone who had been trying to outrun something. Something he didn't want to name. He rubbed at his face, hard, willing the tension to melt off. It didn't.

Eventually, he made his way back into the main part of the room, finding himself curled up in the chair by the window, legs drawn up under the robe, head resting against the glass. It was warm there, in the sunlight. Outside, the city was already alive. The faint hum of civilization that felt galaxies away from the small hotel room where his fake engagement was starting to feel far too real.

He shouldn’t feel this way. He shouldn't have said what he said. His tone was too off, too bitter to be him. He always thought he was good at controlling himself, but lately everything had been unraveling thread by thread. And Shinsou—Shinsou looked like he’d seen right through him.

He had to end this. He had to.

His eyelids hung low, fluttering to keep himself awake. He had gotten enough sleep—or at least he thought he did. Still, Monoma's eyes began to close, body curling in on itself more. The hum of life slowly faded away as he let his eyes close.

The door opened with a soft click, and Monoma’s eyes snapped open. Shinsou was back, paper bag in one hand, plastic utensils poking out the top. His other hand held two small boxes of apple juice.

“Didn’t see you downstairs,” he said casually, walking in like everything was normal.

“I was still a bit tired, didn't sleep too well. Y’know, with that jello dream and all,” he lied, shuffling his body, sitting in the chair normally now. “I don't like dealing with people when I haven't gotten my beauty sleep.”

That last part, however, wasn't a lie. Monoma loved people and attention a good percentage of the time. Just not when he was tired. Usually, interacting with others was second-hand nature to him when he was fully alert. Tired Monoma and people did not mix well. Usually resulting in the other person asking him if he's okay. He'd already dealt enough with the “are you okay” talk with Shinsou this morning.

Shinsou raised a brow. “That include me?”

Monoma looked away, shrugging one shoulder as he sank further into the chair. “You don’t count. I’m contractually obligated to tolerate you.”

“Hmm, lucky me,” Shinsou muttered, placing the bag down on the table beside the chair. “Got you eggs. They had like four different kinds. I guessed scrambled.”

Monoma blinked, caught off guard by the gesture. “Oh.”

“That all you got to say?” Shinsou asked, smirking slightly as he sat down on the edge of the bed, juice box straw between his teeth. “No speech about how you prefer them poached with a light hollandaise drizzle?”

“I’m not picky,” Monoma muttered, then added, “but hollandaise does sound nice…”

Shinsou snorted. “Figures.”

Monoma reached into the bag and pulled out the warm container. The smell hit him, and his stomach twisted painfully. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach it; guilt had seemed to already fill the empty void there. Either way, he forced himself to open it.

The eggs were fluffy, steaming, dotted with a little pepper. He didn’t look at Shinsou as he took the first bite. Didn’t dare. If he did, he might say something he’d regret. Or worse, something he’d mean.

The first bite went down, mixing and twisting the guilt in an oddly nice way. Or maybe it was just because the eggs tasted good? It was hard to tell—hard to taste anything.

“So, what's the plan for today?”

Monoma looked up from his eggs with a questionable look. “The Gala?”

Shinsou returned the look, deadpan and unamused. “Yes, and the Gala starts at four. It's…” he looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand, “ten. I know you have something planned between now and then.”

Monoma shook his head. “Nope. I have something I have to help some of the girls from U.A. with. I'm sure you’d rather relax as much as you can before the Gala.”

Which translated to: I need space away from you in this tiny hotel room.

“Okay.” Shinsou didn't question it, even though he should have. Yet, the idea of relaxing beforehand sounded so much better than being dragged around by Monoma like a show pony.

Monoma quickly finished his eggs, the warmth of them doing little to calm the knot twisting tighter and tighter inside his chest. Then chugged down the apple juice, the small box squeezing in on itself the emptier it got. Once it was gone, he tossed it into the to-go box and closed the container. His hands reached for a napkin, cleaning them off as if he were cleaning away the evidence of the storm that festered inside him.

He couldn't stay here.

Couldn’t stay here another second with the way Shinsou was looking at him. Like he knew something Monoma hadn’t even dared admit out loud yet. Like one wrong look might shatter the whole charade into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Standing up so fast he almost knocked the chair back, Monoma removed the hotel robe from around him, letting it fall onto the chair in a bunched-up pile. Act natural. It was easier said than done.

"I should get going," he said, too fast, voice brittle at the edges. "The girls texted earlier. They got a few things they want to do before the Gala, wouldn't tell me what it was. But apparently, they need my help with it."

Shinsou gave him a lazy half-glance from where he sat on the bed, still slowly sipping his apple juice. "You sure you’re okay?"

Monoma barked a laugh, harsh and hollow. "Obviously. But I'll be back before we have to get ready. Promise." He tossed it out there like a casual joke, like it didn’t ache to say it. Like he wasn’t already counting the seconds he could be away from this room, from that look in Shinsou’s eyes.

"You need me to come with you?" Shinsou asked, raising an eyebrow. Half-teasing. Half-serious.

Monoma almost tripped over his own damn heart.

"No," he said too quickly, too sharp. Then, softer, slathered in a smile too bright to be real, "I can handle it. Besides, you’re right. You should relax before you have to be paraded around in a rented suit."

Shinsou grunted a laugh, setting down his juice box. "Not rented, but if you say so."

"Mhm, I’ll be back soon," Monoma called over his shoulder as he slipped on his shoes, hands fumbling a little too much with the laces. His fingers felt clumsy, like his body was revolting against him, demanding he stay. That he fix it. That he fix whatever this was before it snapped and became unfixable. He ignored it.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing the tension inside like a tomb. The hallway was cool and sterile. Monoma leaned back against the door for a moment, head thudding gently against the wood, eyes squeezed shut. He took a long, dragging breath in through his nose, out through his mouth.

Get a grip, Neito.

He pushed himself off the door, straightening his posture, and forced his feet to move down the hallway. Away from the room. Away from Shinsou. Away from whatever was clawing its way out of his chest. He didn’t know where he was really going. He’d text one of the girls later, invent some emergency, fake a project, do whatever it took. Right now, he just needed distance.

He needed to breathe. Before tonight forced him back into the fire. Before he risked burning everything down.

“Okay, the world must be on the brink of another humanity-ending war again, because you never call me first.” The voice rang from the phone.

“No war, but very close to it,” Shinsou replied, his back pressed closer to the headboard, slouching down somewhat. “It’s Monoma, he's been acting weird lately.”

“Monoma always acts weird.”

“Weirder than normal, Tokage. It's like he didn't even want to be in the same room as me—fuck, I mean he didn't want to be in the same room as me. He left in such a hurry earlier today.”

There was silence on the other line, minus the crackle of static. “Maybe he's just worried about that Gala you two are going to. I mean, this is the first time you've really been out since this whole ordeal, in public, around a group of people you both are close with—well, that Monoma is close to. Probably just worried someone else might catch on to the act.”

Shinsou dragged a hand through his hair, nails scraping gently across his scalp. He let a small sigh escape, hand falling down limply against his thigh. His head turned up to the ceiling as if it had all the answers to Monoma's behavior. Spending multiple days out of the week for months with someone and you think you know them. Apparently, Shinsou didn't know Monoma well enough.

"Yeah... maybe," he muttered, but even to his own ears, he sounded unconvinced. "It didn't feel like that, though. Ever since we shared a bed last night—”

“You shared a bed?” Tokage practically screamed into the phone.

Shinsou pulled the phone away from his ear, whining at the static scream coming from it. “Yeah, guess the Hero Commission just assumed we'd be fine with a single bed. But he was the one that insisted we share it, so I really don't understand the problem.”

“Ohhhh, that kind of sharing a bed,” Tokage let out a relieved sound. It took Shinsou a second to realize what other kind of bed sharing she meant. He willingly chose not to say anything about it.

There was a pause.

Tokage continued as if her mind hadn't just been in the gutter, “Look, Shinsou, Monoma wasn't exactly the dating kind back in school, and I doubt he’s one to sleep around. You know being a hero, those two things just don't mix well. He’s probably just not used to such an intimate act… Maybe he—he's probably just nervous about the Gala like I already said.”

“Don't use our names and 'intimate' together ever again,” Shinsou muttered. He hadn't even realized he had been slowly slouching more, slipping down the headboard until he was lying on his back. “You're probably right. I'm just a bit worried.”

“Worried or not, everything will be fine,” Tokage told him. “Now that you're done having your mid-life crisis, I'm going to get some work done. Keep me updated.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

He clicked the end button. He stared at the screen for a long second, the reflection of his own scowl glaring back at him. He tossed his phone down beside him. This wasn't some mid-life crisis, and it definitely wasn't done.

Shinsou stayed lying there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling the pull of exhaustion anchor him deeper into the mattress. His jaw tightened. None of this made any goddamn sense. It wasn’t like Monoma to act like that, not toward him.

They’d been playing this part for months now. Shared schedules, dates three times a week, he had even been over to Shinsou's house. Monoma wasn’t supposed to get weird about it now. Not when they were so close to pulling it off. Not when Shinsou had finally started thinking they might actually make it through this fake engagement shit without everything crashing down.

He rubbed a hand over his face, letting it drag down until his fingers hooked under his chin, thumb digging into the edge of his jaw, grounding him. Tokage was probably right. It was nerves. Stress. Monoma being his usual dramatic self but ramped up because of the Gala.

Shinsou shifted, forcing himself to sit up properly, even as every muscle in his body whined in protest.

"He's just being Monoma," he muttered aloud, needing to hear it, needing it to stick. "It’s not that deep."

His phone still sat beside him, screen black and silent. For a second, he almost picked it up again—almost texted Monoma something stupid just to check in—but he stopped himself. No point in making it even weirder. They’d see each other soon enough.

He pushed himself off the bed with a grunt, shoulders stiff, the edge of irritation buzzing under his skin. He didn’t have time to waste wondering about every little twitch Monoma made. They had a job to do tonight.

And if Monoma couldn't keep it together, well, they'd both have bigger problems than just faking an engagement.

Chapter Text

I'm sorry to be that person, but I'm gonna be this person. I've decided to discontinue this fic. If anyone follows my account you will know I've stopped writing MHA and moved to the Sonic fandom. IMO MHA is just a shitty fandom, and I honestly don't wanna be apart of it anymore. I still love monoshin, but not enough to find motivation to continue writing about it. Sorry to disappoint y'all. But if anyone from here likes Sonic y'all should check out my work from that fandom.