Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The common room is chaos, but it’s the kind that Class 3-A thrives in.

Ashido is perched dramatically in a large armchair, one leg slung over the side and a glittery headband in her hair as if she’s wearing a crown. Kaminari stands beside his boyfriend Shinsou, who leans casually against the wall with his arms crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“Okay!” Ashido calls, clapping her hands. “Pride party planning committee is now in session!”

“We didn’t vote for a committee,” Jirou says from her beanbag, removing her headphones so she can pay closer attention.

“I self-appointed,” Ashido replies, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. “Anyway. We need decorations, a music line-up, and food. I’m thinking rainbow cupcakes and nonbinary nachos.”

“Are nonbinary nachos a thing?” Sato asks.

“They are now!” she declares.

Shouto sits on the floor beside a low table, quietly sipping his tea. Midoriya is next to him, cross-legged with a notebook balanced on his knee. He’s jotting down everything the others are saying, acting as the unofficial notetaker for the group—his handwriting untidy but fast as he keeps pace with the rapid-fire suggestions.

“What about a few party games?” Kirishima pipes up.

"Great idea!" Ashido agrees. "Midoriya, write that down."

"Already have!" he smiles.

Sero sits up. “Does anyone have decorations we can use? Posters, flags, whatever.”

“I've got a pride flag blanket and some rainbow string lights,” Uraraka offers.

“I've got a few posters, and Momo has some lesbian pride throw pillows,” Jirou adds.

Midoriya raises his hand. “I have a bi flag back home, I can go grab it this weekend. We could hang it up above the snack table or something.”

There’s no dramatic pause, no shock. Kaminari lets out a loud “Bi squad represent!” and Jirou grins.

Everyone moves on, like it's just common knowledge. Everyone except Shouto. He blinks at Midoriya, who is already scribbling again, and suddenly the room feels a degree too warm.

They’ve been best friends for years. They trained together, fought villains together, nearly died together. And yet, this is the first he’s hearing of it.

Was he just… not paying attention? Did he just miss all the obvious signs like he's always prone to doing? He thinks back: Midoriya complimenting a male pro hero’s smile. The way he laughed when Jirou teased him about Mirio that one time. The way everyone else seems to just know.

And now he wonders—what else has he missed?

“We should get a bunch of balloons!” Hagakure suggests excitedly. "I also have a bunch of ally pins."

Everyone’s voices suddenly fade away as he mind fixates on this newly acquired information, but after a while Midoriya’s voice brings him back. “What about you, Todoroki? Do you think we should all wear pins?”

“Hm? Oh.” Shouto swallows. “Sure.”

Midoriya smiles at him—genuinely, sweetly, like always—and then turns back to his notetaking. The conversation rolls forward, but Shouto’s no longer part of it. He sits, quiet and still, while the others chatter about glitter glue, confetti, rainbow mochi, and who’s going to DJ.

In his chest, something is shifting. Like a wall being taken down.

Later that night, Shouto lies on his bed staring at the ceiling, eyes unfocused. The dorm is quiet now, the buzz of planning long since faded, but his mind won’t settle.

He can’t stop thinking about the way Midoriya said it. So casual, like it was common knowledge. And maybe it had been. To everyone but him.

Shouto presses his hands over his face. It's not even about the label—bi, gay, whatever. It’s that for so long, he thought he didn’t have a chance. He told himself that over and over. That Midoriya had a huge crush on Uraraka just last year, so he’s not interested in boys. That even if Shouto felt something, it didn’t matter. That friendship would just have to be enough.

He turns onto his side, curling into the sheets. He really needs to kick his bad habit of making assumptions about people...

He doesn’t remember exactly when it started. Just that it crept in slowly—watching Midoriya train, seeing him laugh, hearing his voice late at night when they studied together. A warmth in his chest. A flutter when their hands accidentally brushed. The kind of feelings that made him question everything.

There’s a memory. Clear as day. It was during their second year.

Midoriya had been rambling about support gear upgrades, completely absorbed in his notes, scribbling wildly with his tongue poking out in concentration. And Shouto had just... smiled. He couldn’t look away, and found himself thinking that Midoriya was being very cute.

In that moment something in his brain had stuttered.

Do I like him? Like that?

It hit with the force of a villain’s punch. And suddenly he was searching terms on his phone late at night: Signs that you're in love with your best friend? What if you’ve never liked anyone until now and suddenly like someone? Am I gay? What does 'demisexual' mean?

He hadn’t found all the answers back then, or since. Just a vague understanding that what he felt for Midoriya was different, more than just platonic. Instead of facing these feelings back then, he pushed them down and locked them away—it was less painful that way.

But now, tonight, it feels like a dam cracking open. All the hope he buried rising up, fighting to resurface.

Some time after that second-year moment, after sitting with his thoughts for weeks and avoiding eye contact with Midoriya for days, Shouto had settled on the label 'demisexual.' It felt right. He didn’t feel attraction unless there was already a deep bond—and even then, it was rare. So rare, in fact, that he’d never felt anything close to this for anyone else. Not a single crush growing up. Not even a passing interest in a celebrity. Nothing at all.

Midoriya was the only one.

That part made things even more confusing. Was he only attracted to guys? Was he bisexual, or even pan? Did it matter? He still wasn’t sure.

He’d kept it private, filed away in the mental folder labelled 'inconclusive'.

All he knew was this: he liked Midoriya. That truth had held steady no matter what label he tried on.

And Midoriya is bi. Which means... it might not be completely hopeless after all.

Of course, just because he's interested in guys doesn't mean he's interested in him. Midoriya might already like someone else, someone who makes him laugh without trying, someone who knows how to flirt properly. Someone who isn’t still figuring himself out.

But still, it changes everything.

The possibility alone makes his heart pound. He presses a hand to his chest and exhales slowly, letting the thought bloom in the quiet of the night.

Then his thoughts drift back to what Midoriya had asked earlier.

“Do you think we should all wear pins?”

It had seemed like such a simple question at the time, but now it weighs heavily in Shouto’s chest. What pin would he even wear?

The others would be so confident—Yaomomo with shades of pink, orange, and white, Kaminari and Jirou wearing their bi pins, Shinsou sporting a gay pride one, too, to only mention a few. Heck, even the classmates who consider themselves allies have it all figured out—they at least know they're straight.

It was second nature to them, part of who they were and how they expressed it.

But Shouto? He’s never even come out to anyone, he just sat with it in silence. Wearing a pin would be like shouting it.

Would everyone notice? Would they ask questions? Would they even care?

Most importantly, was he ready for that?

He bites his lip, anxiety curling in his stomach. Part of him wants to participate. To be honest. To not sit on the sidelines while everyone else celebrates openly. But another part still feels like that unsure second-year version of himself—Googling terms in the dark, heart racing at the thought of being seen.

Maybe he could start small. A demisexual pin. Subtle. Safe. Or maybe just a rainbow one—something that can be worn by all members of the LGBTQ+ community and allies alike. Either way, he wanted to try.

He rolls onto his back again and lets his hand fall onto his chest.

Maybe he could do this. One step at a time.

He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and unlocks it. The brightness stings his eyes, but he ignores it and opens up his browser. If he couldn’t sleep anyway, he might as well make use of the time.

He searches: pride pins demisexual, then just LGBTQ+ pride merch. Dozens of options appear—some loud and colourful, others small and understated. Heart-shaped pins, enamel badges, minimalist bands. Flags big and small. T-shirts, some basic and to the point, others on the more humorous side—a few of them even make him smile.

Scrolling through, he taps on a few that catch his eye —he doesn’t add anything to the cart yet, but he bookmarks a few just in case.

Chapter Text

The night of the party arrives sooner than Shouto expects.

He stands in front of his closet mirror, tugging at the hem of his hoodie. The black, gray, white, and purple demisexual pin sits over his heart, a rainbow pin in the shape of a flame displayed next to it. Beneath his hoodie, hidden from sight, is the white t-shirt he’d ordered with the words Figuring It Out written in bright, rainbow-coloured lettering.

He wasn’t sure if he was going to wear the shirt at first. But when it arrived, and he saw it in person, something about it just felt right. He zips up his hoodie for now—maybe he'll be ready to take it off later, maybe not—but he knows the t-shirt is there, and that brings him some level of comfort.

He’s fully comfortable admitting that he’s demisexual, so that’s what he’ll reveal. For now. The flag he ordered—matching the colors of his demisexual pin—rests folded on his bed. He tucks it carefully into his pocket to take down to the common room. Someone will probably tape it up on a wall or drape it over the back of a couch.

He takes one last deep breath before stepping outside into the hallway.

He makes his way down to the common room, which is already mostly set up when he arrives. Strings of lights crisscross the ceiling, and someone has set up a table full of food, mostly rainbow-themed. A few flags and posters are already taped to the walls—some crooked, others perfectly measured.

Midoriya is placing various pride pillows on the couch. He looks up the second Shouto steps in, and walks over.

His eyes immediately land on the demisexual pin.

“Oh,” Midoriya says, a bit surprised, but not in a bad way. He smiles. “I didn’t know you were demisexual.”

Shouto shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Sorry,” he says automatically.

Midoriya tilts his head. “What are you apologizing for?”

Shouto stares at him for a moment, then frowns faintly. “I don’t know.”

Midoriya’s smile widens a little, but he doesn’t push. Instead, his gaze drifts lower, to the folded fabric sticking out of Shouto’s pocket.

“Is that a flag?” he asks.

Shouto nods and pulls it out, unfolding it slightly.

Midoriya’s eyes light up. “There’s a blank space on the wall next to the windows. That flag would be perfect there!”

Without thinking too hard about it, Shouto hands it over.

“Thanks!” Midoriya says, already turning toward the wall and calling out to Sero for some tape.

Shouto stays rooted to the spot until Midoriya returns.

Just then, music starts to play from the speakers, an energetic, upbeat track with a bouncy rhythm. Someone must have finally hit play on the collaborative playlist Kaminari, Jirou, and Ashido had spent all week curating. It’s a mix of queer anthems, danceable pop, and a few oddly specific niche tracks that only a few people in their class would even recognize.

A few more classmates start filtering into the room. Uraraka, Sato, and Iida enter, chatting about the snack table setup. Each of them glance Shouto’s way as they pass, offering warm greetings. Kaminari and Ashido walk by, Kaminari grinning as he claps Shouto lightly on the shoulder.

"Yo, Todoroki! That flaming pride pin is awesome!"

"So on brand!" Ashido adds.

Shouto smiles, "Thanks. I thought it suited me."

Midoriya appears at his side again, nudging him gently. “Hey, want to grab something to eat before it all disappears?”

He nods, grateful for the familiar comfort of Midoriya’s presence.

The snack table is an explosion of colour and puns. A tower of rainbow cupcakes labelled ‘CupGAYS’ sits next to a platter of cookies in the shape of different pride flags, carefully frosted with coloured icing. There’s a tray of mini sliders called ‘Bi Bites’, next to the big platter of ‘Nonbinary Nachos’ piled high and chaotic, just the way Ashido likes them. The tortilla chips are all varying colours of the nonbinary pride flag, and he wonders if the purple and black ones have different flavours or if it’s all just dye.

They both load up a small plate with sweet and savoury treats alike, before moving to the side together, as more classmates gather around the food. It’s loud and bright and messy, but in a way that feels comfortable.

They nibble on snacks for a few minutes, occasionally commenting on the music or laughing at some of the more humourous decorations. Shouto even points out that one of the cookies looks more like a poorly drawn turtle than a flag, which earns a snort from Midoriya.

Then Ashido’s voice rings out across the room, loud and dramatic: “Alright, everyone, circle around! Time for a Pride Month twist on spin the bottle!”

Groans, laughter, and curious murmurs ripple through the room.

“Here’s how it works,” she announces, holding up a sparkly, sticker-covered bottle.

“You spin it. Whoever it lands on is asked a question—within reason, of course, don't be an ass. But—” she holds up a finger, grinning wickedly, “—if they don’t want to answer, they have to do a dare instead.”

Kirishima laughs nervously. “Mina, I fear your dares.”

“You should,” she replies proudly.

Midoriya glances at Shouto, brows raised in amusement. “Should we sit in?”

Shouto hesitates just a second, “Do we get a choice?”

He giggles, that beautiful sound that’s music to Shouto’s ears. “Good point.”

The game kicks off with Kaminari spinning first after winning a game of rock, paper, scissors. The bottle lands on Jirou.

“Name a song that makes you feel totally seen,” Kaminari asks.

Jirou answers in an instant, “Girls Like Girls” by Hayley Kiyoko,” and a few people cheer.

Jirou then takes her turn. The bottle points to Kirishima, and she asks him to share the most embarrassing thing that happened before he got with Bakugou. Kirishima thinks for a moment, then confesses that he once accidentally called Bakugou “babe” one day in the middle of a workout session. It was before they officially became a couple, and it’s the reason that one treadmill in the gym got blown up. The circle erupts with laughter, as Bakugou’s face gets redder and redder. Whether it’s from rage or embarrassment, no one knows.

Kirishima spins next, and it lands on Sero. Kirishima leans forward, grinning, and asks, “Alright, Sero—if you could go on a date with someone in this class, who would it be?”

Sero stares at him for a beat, mouth opening like he might answer—then promptly shakes his head. “Nope. Not touching that one.”

There’s a chorus of dramatic oohs and aahs from the group, and Ashido practically bounces. “Dare it is!”

Groaning, Sero accepts his fate and is promptly dared to do a dramatic reenactment of a hero-themed telenovela scene, complete with fake swooning and declarations of love. He hams it up to perfection, collapsing into Kaminari’s arms at one point and dramatically confessing, “But Captain Voltage! We can never be together—not with your electrified heart!”

The scene earns enthusiastic applause and an exaggerated bow as Sero returns to his spot, grinning.

The bottle continues its journey, passed from classmate to classmate, each new spin bringing out revelations, dares, and laughter. No one’s embarrassed for long.

It’s all in good fun, and even the teasing feels affectionate. There’s a rhythm to it, an unexpected comfort in sharing silly truths or leaning into ridiculous dares with people who‘ve grown so close over the years through difficult circumstances.

Eventually, the bottle slows again, and lands with its neck pointed at Midoriya.

Ashido claps her hands together. “Okay, Midoriya, you’re up!” she says with a mischievous gleam. “Tell us—who was your first hero crush?”

Without missing a beat, he answers, “It’s between Mirko and Hawks.”

A few people whistle and laugh appreciatively. Kaminari claps his hands. “Midoriya’s got taste!”

Midoriya laughs, a little sheepish, but clearly unbothered.

“Alright,” he says, reaching forward to grab the bottle. “Let’s see who’s next.”

Shouto smiles with the rest of them, but the answer lingers in his mind.

Mirko and Hawks.

They're bold. Cool. Fearless. Full of charisma and magnetic energy. The kind of heroes who command attention just by walking into a room. The complete opposite of him. So that’s the type of person Midoriya likes...

He stares at his plate, now mostly empty, and picks at a leftover crumb with a finger. He tries not to let it mean anything, tries not to assign weight to something that was probably just an honest answer to a light-hearted question. But it’s hard not to spiral just a little.

What could someone like Midoriya ever see in someone like him?

He’s not charming. He’s not particularly expressive. He doesn’t light up a room or crack jokes or radiate anything even close to warmth. He’s cold and impersonable and awkward and—

He blinks, and looks down, noticing the bottle in pointing at him. He quickly forces himself to snap out of it and focus.

Midoriya leans forward slightly, clearly trying to keep his question light. “Okay, Todoroki,” he says with a teasing smile, “who was your most embarrassing celebrity crush?”

Shouto’s brow furrows. He glances around the circle, everyone waiting with bated breath. He answers with complete honesty: “I’ve never had one.”

There’s a beat of silence—then a collective gasp, followed by dramatic protests.

“No way!” Kaminari blurts. “Come on, never?”

“You’re dodging,” Uraraka accuses with mock betrayal.

“If it makes you feel any better, I had a thing for Fat Gum when I was like eleven,” Sero adds, hand over his heart.

"Fat Gum? Seriously, dude?" Jirou asks with a frown. “He’s a great guy, but he kinda looks like a balloon.”

"Have you seen him when he's burnt through all his fat reserves, though? Come on!" Sero defends.

Jirou concedes, "OK, OK. that's fair."

"We're getting distracted here,” Ashido cuts in. “Todoroki, are you going to answer, or do you want a dare instead?"

Shouto raises an eyebrow, deadpan. “I’m demisexual. I've never had a crush on a celebrity.”

A few people blink, the teasing dying out into a more thoughtful hush.

“Ohhh, duh!” Ashido says, starting to giggle. “OK, valid. No dares needed.”

Midoriya shifts sheepishly next to him. "Sorry, that was a dumb question..."

Shouto shrugs. "That's OK." In fact, he’s grateful—no need to reveal personal information or do something stupid to embarrass himself. It’s a win-win situation in his book.

Kaminari puts up his hand. "Permission to ask a follow up question? That was a bit anti-climactic..."

Ashido considers it for a moment, then shrugs. "Sure, why the hell not."

"Have you ever had a crush on someone in our class?" Kaminari asks.

Shouto stiffens slightly, caught off guard by the directness of it. He glances around the circle, then down at his hands.

A flush starts creeping up the back of his neck and across his cheeks.

“Yes,” he says finally, voice quiet but firm.

There’s an immediate eruption of gasps and gleeful chaos.

“No way!” Ashido squeals.

“Oh my God!” Uraraka exclaims.

“Wait—who?!” Hagakure demands, already leaning forward.

Midoriya quickly raises his hands, cutting across the noise. “You asked a question, and he answered it,” he says, putting his foot down.

“Booo!” Kaminari groans.

“Come on, just a hint?” Uraraka pleads.

Midoriya just shakes his head. “Rules are rules.”

Shouto catches his eye and gives him the faintest, grateful nod.

Just as the group starts to settle again, Bakugou stands up to refill his drink and mutters something under his breath about "how much more of this do I need to sit through." In the process, he stumbles over an extension cord and accidentally kicks the bottle, sending it skidding across the floor.

Everyone turns to look just in time to see it collide with the wall and shatter.

There’s a collective gasp.

Tokoyami crosses his arms solemnly. “Tragic. Its fate was sealed by the foot of chaos itself.”

Laughter ripples through the group as a few people help clean up the shards of glass. The circle breaks apart naturally, the game ending in a flurry of jokes and inside commentary about the bottle’s tragic demise.

Chapter Text

Midoriya appears at Shouto’s side a few minutes later, a gentle look in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging Shouto’s elbow. “You good?”

Shouto nods once, but his expression doesn’t fully relax.

Midoriya looks around the room. “Want to step out for a bit? Get some air? It’s getting kinda loud in here.”

Shouto doesn’t answer right away, but eventually says, “Yeah. That would be nice.”

They slip out of the common room and into the cooler hallway, walking quietly until they reach one of the side stairwells that’s mostly left unused. It’s dim and quiet, a soft hum of music still audible through the walls but muted by distance.

They sit together on the steps, backs resting against the cool wall. The quiet is welcome, thick with unspoken thoughts but no pressure to speak.

Finally, Shouto breaks the silence.

"Until just the other day, I didn’t realise you were bisexual," he says, voice low but steady.

Midoriya frowns. “I… wasn’t hiding it?”

Shouto huffs softly, more at himself than anything. “I know. I’m just stupid...”

Midoriya gives a small chuckle, nudging Shouto lightly with his shoulder. “You’re not stupid. Just a bit… oblivious sometimes.”

Shouto lets out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh but close.

After a moment, he adds, “So. Mirko and Hawks, huh?”

Midoriya groans and tips his head back against the wall. “Ugh, that was years ago! They’re cool and flashy and badass and stuff, so you can’t blame me.”

Shouto shrugs a little. “So that's your type? Charismatic, extroverted, and confident?”

Midoriya laughs. “Celebrity crushes are not grounded in reality. I’d be more interested in someone who balances me out, someone calm and a bit more reserved. He shrugs. “Basically, almost the opposite of them.”

Shouto glances away. "Right," he says, trying to sound neutral. The knot in his chest loosens slightly, but it doesn’t vanish. There’s still a tiny voice whispering that maybe Midoriya would never see someone like him that way.

Midoriya picks at a loose thread on his sleeve, then glances sideways at Shouto again. “So... since I told you what my type is, can I ask what yours is?”

Shouto is quiet for a long moment. Then, carefully, he says, “I guess I like people who are smart and friendly. A little intense sometimes, and a bit dorky.” He thinks for a moment before finishing off with, “Someone who smiles and laughs a lot.”

He doesn’t look at Midoriya as he says it, but the words hang between them like something half-spoken and fully felt.

Midoriya’s fingers, still on that loose thread, pause. Then he says, “That kinda sounds like me.” His jaw slams shut as if he didn’t mean to say that out loud. He glances away quickly, cheeks pink. “I mean—not saying it is, just—funny coincidence, right?” He laughs nervously. “Like, a female version of me...”

Shouto turns to look at him fully this time, taking in the embarrassed smile, the way Midoriya fidgets. There’s a beat where he considers staying silent and letting it slide.

Instead, he asks, “Is that bad?”

Midoriya freezes. His wide green eyes flick to Shouto’s, searching his face like he’s not sure he heard that right. The silence stretches for a moment, long enough that Shouto begins to doubt himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he’s just made things weird.

“No... no, not at all.” Midoriya glances at Shouto. "Any girl would be lucky to have you as a boyfriend." He smiles, but it feels forced.

There’s a beat of quiet between them. Of course, he completely misunderstood what Shouto was trying to say. Either that, or he’s trying to let him down easy by pretending he doesn’t understand.

Shouto steels himself—he’s gotten this far already, he might as well see it through. "Who said anything about a girl?"

Midoriya blinks, startled. "What do you mean?"

Shouto hesitates, then slowly reaches for the zipper of his hoodie. He pulls it down halfway and opens it just enough to reveal the shirt underneath.

Figuring It Out, the rainbow lettering reads. His heart is beating faster now. Of course, Midoriya wouldn’t judge him for it—no one in Class 3-A would—but it’s still a bit nerve-wracking all the same.

Midoriya’s breath catches—and then he laughs, warm and real, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a great t-shirt.”

There’s a pause, then Midoriya gives him a sideways glance. “So... who is it? The person you have a crush on.”

Shouto studies him for a moment. Midoriya called him oblivious just a few minutes ago, but he’s beginning to wonder who’s really the oblivious one here.

He smiles. “He’s brave and a little crazy. He talks too much, but in an endearing way. Has a lot of freckles and big green eyes that I’m very fond of.”

Midoriya goes still, staring at Shouto with wide eyes.

Shouto just shrugs, his cheeks flushing. The cat's out of the bag, there's no turning back now.

Midoriya looks giddy, his cheeks flushed, and there’s this barely-contained smile on his face like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. He ducks his head, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes when he glances back up, and Shouto feels something warm and fragile expand in his chest.

Maybe—just maybe—he actually has a chance.

Midoriya stares at him for a long moment with a warm smile, then he looks down at his scarred hands.

“I’ve got a crush on someone in class too,” he says casually.

Shouto’s breath hitches, but he tries not to let it show. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Midoriya says, still focused on the scars on his hands. “He’s kind of intense. A little too literal sometimes. He’s got a cool vibe but at the same time he’s really hot.”

Shouto blinks.

Midoriya finally glances sideways at him, a shy smile forming. “Also has this really cool dual-colored hair thing going on.”

Did Midoriya really just throw a pun about his quirk into his confession? He’s not sure if he did it on purpose or if it just slipped out, but either way—it’s dorky and absolutely adorable. He feels something flutter in his stomach, a small spark of something fragile and bright.

It hits him all at once—this isn’t just wishful thinking; he isn’t dreaming—Midoriya actually likes him back. He feels his heart skip in his chest, a rush of warmth spreading through him. The relief is dizzying.

He likes me back. The thought loops through his head again and again, each time more surreal.

Midoriya nudges him with his shoulder, a little grin tugging at his mouth. “You know,” he adds, “when you said you had a crush on someone in class during the game... I tried really hard not to overthink it.”

Shouto lifts an eyebrow. “You? Overthink something?”

Midoriya huffs a laugh. “Unbelievable, I know.”

He hesitates, the smile on his face turning a little sheepish. "I didn’t say anything because I thought you were straight," he admits softly. "I didn’t want to mess things up if I got it wrong. I thought... better safe than sorry, you know? I didn’t want to risk our friendship." He pauses, voice a little softer now. "But I guess I wasn’t the only one,”

Shouto meets his eyes and says, quietly but with a noticeably awkward edge, "I like you, Mi—" He falters, catches himself, and corrects gently, "Izuku. I, uh... I've liked you for a long time."

Izuku's eyes widen at the sound of his first name. His shoulders twitch like he’s surprised by the sound, and a light flush colors his cheeks. He blinks, startled for just a moment, and then breaks into a smile so bright it sets Shouto’s heart on fire.

He lets out a soft laugh, clearly flustered but not trying to hide it. "Well... I like you too, Shouto."

Izuku’s said his name before—usually in battle, in interviews, in the context of hero work—but this time it’s different.

Izuku rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, grinning sheepishly. “We’re both dumbasses, huh?”

Shouto nods solemnly. “Certified,” he responds, before they both start laughing.

The laughter between them fades, but the warmth lingers, settling into the quiet space where something new has started to take root.

Shouto’s hand rests between them, fingers relaxed but unmoving. Izuku glances down at it, then back up at Shouto, hesitant but hopeful.

Slowly—almost like testing the temperature of water—his fingers shift closer.

Shouto notices. His own fingers involuntarily twitch slightly closer too, like some magnetic force is pulling them together.

And then, gently, they find each other. Just a slow, clumsy intertwining of hands, palms slightly sweaty, thumbs brushing awkwardly.

Their eyes meet again, something open and unspoken passing between them. It builds in the air like static. Then they lean in at the same time, without thinking.

Their noses bump. Izuku mutters a quiet “oops,” and they both chuckle under their breath, nerves tangled in the space between.

The second attempt is slower, more careful. Their lips meet, tentative and unsure. It’s slightly off-center and not very practiced, but it’s real and it’s theirs.

They stay like that for a moment, hands still linked, hearts hammering behind their ribs. When they pull away, they’re grinning. Wide, stupid grins that neither can suppress.

They’re a little breathless, a little overwhelmed, but it’s perfect, because it’s them.

When they return to the common room, the lights are slightly dimmed, decorations glowing in soft rainbow hues. Music pulses gently from the speakers, something upbeat and poppy that has a few of their classmates dancing.

Shouto’s hoodie is unzipped now, his new t-shirt visible at last. And Izuku is proudly holding his hand.

Nobody makes a huge deal out of it, but a few smiles are exchanged, a couple knowing glances shared. Jirou gives them a small thumbs-up from across the room. Ashido spots them and lights up like a firework but says nothing, just smiles brightly before she continues dancing.

Shouto squeezes Izuku’s hand. Izuku glances over with that warm, open smile of his and squeezes back. For the first time all day, Shouto feels completely at ease.

Uraraka spots them from across the room, eyes lighting up. She hurries over and grins at the sight of their joined hands.

"Finally!" she says, throwing her hands up. "Do you know how many times I’ve had to listen to Midoriya spiral about his feelings?"

Izuku groans, embarrassed. "Uraraka...!"

"Don’t worry, I’ll keep the details to myself," she teases, giving them both a wink before walking off.

Shouto raises an eyebrow at him, and Izuku’s ears go pink. "You’re not allowed to ask. Ever."

Shouto hums, smiling softly. "Guess I’ll just have to imagine it."

Izuku sighs. "I can't decide if that's better or worse."