Work Text:
Shoto stepped inside the bar and scanned the room.
After almost six months of planning around their schedules, his graduating class had finally managed to find a reunion date that the vast majority of them could make. Granted, a few individuals had to reluctantly decline due to last minute commitments, but as Shoto looked around the pub, the turnout was impressive.
His classmates turned co-workers had rented out the venue for the night—such a large number of heroes in one place garnered enough attention as it was, they'd be asking for trouble if the place was also open to the public—after having started off the evening by getting food together. Shoto had been later clocking out of work than he would’ve liked, so had missed the earlier festivities. However, he did manage to inhale a soba takeout on the journey over, so his stomach wasn’t completely empty.
He scanned the room casually, as if he wasn’t looking for one specific person. Uraraka, Jirou, Asui, Sero and Kaminari were sitting at one of the tables, chatting; an array of glasses were scattered between them. Ashido, Kirishima, Mineta and Yaoyorozu weren’t far away, playing a game of pool, whilst Bakugou brooded in the corner and watched. Ashido was almost splayed entirely across the table to reach the cue, much to the amusement of the others.
He considered a few of the other tables, before casting his eyes to Shouji, Shinsou and Iida, who were sitting at the bar, backs hunched over in amicable conversation.
Shoto furrowed his eyebrows in disappointment at the lack of Midoriya in his vision. The main reason he had decided to come tonight was because his friend had confirmed that he would also be attending. Had something come up at the last minute?
The muffled sound of a hand dryer could be heard, and Shoto turned his head towards the bathroom, just as the door opened. His heart skipped a beat when none other than his best friend came into view.
Midoriya was still in his work suit: the black blazer and trousers hugged his figure just the right amount; well-tailored and still left something for the imagination, which Shoto regularly indulged whenever he saw his friend. The top button of his shirt was undone and his verdant tie hung loose around his collar. Shoto had to do a double take when he realised that Midoriya had finished off the look by wearing brogue leather boots, instead of the obnoxiously loud—but endearing—red trainers that he could always be found in.
Midoriya didn’t seem to notice him standing awkwardly at the entrance, and walked over to the bar. He placed a hand on Iida’s back and said something, which made the group laugh. Shoto wished he’d gone to the bar as soon as he’d walked in, because maybe then he could’ve been privy to what Midoriya had said.
The aforementioned then caught the bartender, giving Shoto the opportunity to make up for his mistake. Target set, he walked forwards.
‘Todoroki-kun’s here!’
He turned his head in the direction of the sound: Ashido, who was fervently waving at him. Shoto waved back, hoping to continue his mission, but now his friends were congregating around him and he was swept up in greetings, hugs and handshakes. This endured far longer than he was equipped to deal with, until a rescuer arrived.
‘Okay, everyone. Give the man some space.’ Yaoyorozu, the voice of reason, placed a hand on his shoulder and shooed the rest of them back out of his personal space. ‘You’ll all have plenty of time to catch up with top five hero-san.’
‘You're no fun, Yaomomo!’
‘You just want to steal Rocki's attention.’
‘True, you caught me.’ She deadpanned. ‘Scatter.’
Once his audience had dispersed, Shoto turned away—eager to return to his task of saying hello to Midoriya—except Yaoyorozu, his saviour, betrayed him by capturing him in a hug. Shoto stood there awkwardly, moving his arms from their stiff position at his sides to hesitantly return the embrace.
‘Sorry.’ Yaoyorozu always had a keen awareness of others, but that didn’t always mean that she changed her actions to reflect it. ‘I haven’t seen you in ages. How’re you doing?’
‘It’s fine, don't worry.’ Shoto pulled away. ‘I’m good. I was just going to say hi to Midoriya, but I’ll come see you after. I don't want to make you miss your turn.’
He gestured to the pool table, where Mineta was aggressively chalking his cue, whilst baring his teeth and glaring daggers at Shoto for what he assumed was the privilege of talking to and touching Yaoyorozu. He then turned his attention to the aforementioned, who was smirking at him.
‘Wow, tactless this evening, aren't we?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Shoto looked unimpressed.
‘Midoriya~’ She enunciated in her best Shoto impression, then laughed behind her hand. ‘Not “how are you, Momo?” or “yeah, it has been a while, Momo”. Instead, it’s “leave me alone, I want to see my boyfriend”.’
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’ Shoto narrowed his eyes, looking off to the side with a sigh. He then sought out Midoriya, making direct eye contact with him. His friend had leant against the bar; his left hand cradled his elbow, whilst the right held his glass. There was a tense look on his face, as if he were upset at seeing him.
He turned back to Yaoyorozu, who was also looking at Midoriya, her mouth pulled wide in a wince. It quickly vanished once she realised Shoto was looking at her.
‘I know, I'm sorry for teasing.’ She patted his arm. ‘I'll let you go say hello, but don't think you're getting out of here before we have a proper catch up.’
‘Oh, I don't.’ He assured, having the decency to wait until she'd turned her back before scuttling away.
He finally made it to the bar. He couldn't help the smile that graced his face; it widened when the object of his affection mirrored him.
‘Hey, Midoriya.’
‘Hey, Todoroki-kun!’
His friend placed his glass on the counter, then leant forward to encase Shoto in a hug, which was readily reciprocated. Midoriya snaked his arms around his waist—it tickled ever so slightly—and he rested his head against Shoto’s chest.
Midoriya never did have that final growth spurt that the other guys in their class seemed to have, but he more than made up for it in pure muscle density. Shoto was experiencing that density right now, and sincerely hoped the head placement didn't mean that Midoriya could hear the frantic beating of his heart.
This hug definitely lasted longer than the one he had shared with Yaoyorozu.
‘I'm glad to see you.’ Shoto murmured, not wanting to be the first one to break contact.
‘Me too.’ Midoriya eventually pulled back, although those hands on Shoto's hips seemed to linger for a moment longer. ‘I thought you might have flaked on me.’
He huffed through his nose.
‘I would never.’ He assured. ‘There was a villain outside the park. Sorting him out didn't take long, but damage control did.’
Midoriya immediately became concerned.
‘Oh fuck, was everyone alright? No one was injured, were they? I hope it wasn't busy.’
‘It's fine.’ Shoto interrupted before his friend could work himself up too much. ‘No one was hurt, just shocked. Mainly kids, so I was busy cheering them up so they don't end up scared of going to the park.’
Midoriya's face immediately softened and he smiled knowingly.
‘You've always been great with children.’
Shoto didn't really know how to respond, other than, ‘Thank you. That means a lot coming from a teacher.’
‘Pffft.’ Midoriya reached for his drink. ‘I know plenty of teachers who aren't good with kids, so that's not always a good indicator.’
‘I could say the same about fathers.’ Shoto deadpanned. Pride filled his chest when Midoriya sniggered in response.
‘Very true.’ He raised his glass in salute, then took a swig. ‘Hey, can I buy you a dr-’
‘Deku-kun, get your cute butt over here!’ Uraraka suddenly called over from her table. ‘I need to settle a bet!’
Midoriya groaned, smacking his hand across his face. He shot Shoto an apologetic look.
‘I better go see what she wants, but I'll buy you that drink later, yeah?’
‘I'd like that.’
Shoto smiled, eyebrows furrowing as Midoriya walked away with a little wave. Truthfully, he was very annoyed at the interruption. That was barely a conversation; he didn't even get to ask Midoriya how he was doing. Uraraka had had all evening to settle whatever bet that was going around.
Kaasan said it's my turn with Midoriya. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Natsuo's crossed his mind.
Sighing, he watched as Midoriya slid his way into the cramped booth and threw his arm around Uraraka, murmuring something that had her in hysterics. Shoto's breath caught in his throat, observing the way both of them seemed to blush.
The sharp and sudden ache in his chest felt like he'd been punched.
‘Hey, Todoroki, are you gonna stand there and stare at Midoriya until he comes back, or are you gonna sit with us?’ He turned his head to find Shinsou staring at him, unimpressed.
Shoto mirrored his expression.
‘Still deciding.’
Iida, who had also been watching him closely, used that as an opportunity to stand up and gesture to his stool.
‘Todoroki-kun, have a seat!’ It wasn't a suggestion. ‘Would you like anything to drink?’
Shoto blinked dumbly.
‘No, Iida. Sit down, I'll pull up a chair.’ Not waiting for a response, he did exactly that: he grabbed a stool from the other end of the bar and sat down next to him. Once he got settled, he noticed the bartender looking at him expectantly. ‘Oh, just a lemonade, please.’
‘Pussy.’ Shinsou snorted.
‘Todoroki-kun is perfectly within his rights to not buy alcohol from this establishment.’ Iida chopped the air between them. Shouji narrowly missed the line of fire. ‘I am also not partaking in the drinking.’
‘Yeah, because you're also a pussy, with your virgin rum and coke.’ Shinsou picked up and drank what Shoto assumed was a gin and tonic. ‘However, our top five hero over here, looks like he needs a drink.’
Shoto ignored him in favour of casting a glance over his shoulder. In the booth, Uraraka's legs were lounging on Midoriya's lap, whilst she and Kaminari pinched his perfectly freckled, blotchy red face.
‘Are Midoriya and Uraraka dating?’ He asked no one in particular.
‘What?!’ Iida sounded flabbergasted, despite Shoto's perfectly reasonable question. ‘Why would you think that?’
Shoto dragged his eyes away from the display and focused on the three men next to him; he shrugged. He didn't want to point out the current physical intimacy they were displaying, at the risk of being vindicated.
‘I'm pretty sure Midoriya would've told you if he had a girlfriend.’ Shouji elongated an arm, warping it around Iida to pat Shoto on the shoulder. ‘You're one of his best friends.’
Shoto pressed his lips together, still doubtful. Maybe Midoriya had figured out his secret and, being the considerate person that he was, decided to spare Shoto's feelings by not telling him.
‘They're not dating, Todoroki-kun.’ Iida said, firm and without mirth. Shoto appreciated it; there was never any hidden meaning when it came to Iida. ‘Uraraka-san likes Tsu-chan-san.’
His eyebrows shot up, but otherwise, his expression remained tactfully neutral.
‘Really?’
‘You hadn't noticed?’ Shinsou snorted. ‘I don't know why I'm surprised. You can really be a dense motherfucker at times.’
Shoto wished he had a witty retort, but maybe Shinsou was right, so he elected to simply glare.
Sensing a change in topic was needed, Shouji interjected to ask Shoto about how work was going. He indulged him, and the conversation persisted with small talk. However, he couldn’t help but shoot glances at Midoriya every few minutes.
He looked like he was having a great time, even once he got up from the table and filtered around the other groups. Midoriya conversed so easily; their friends were talking and laughing with him, hanging on to his every word. Shoto’s heart swelled with pride at how far his friend had come since they had first met. He knew how isolated and anxious Midoriya had been growing up; how difficult it had been to accept that he deserved friends. To see him now, the popular one in a room full of pro-heroes—the glue holding all of them together, Shoto would argue—he was inspiring…
It made Shoto feel all the more guilty when light touches, shoulder bumps and hugs spiked jealousy into his veins. Midoriya could do what he wanted—he could look after himself—but it made Shoto’s chest tighten every time.
Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to stay sober.
Shaking his head, he pushed his stool back and stood up, surprising Iida, who had been in the middle of speaking.
‘Todoroki-kun, are you alright?’
‘Ah, sorry.’ Shoto rubbed the back of his neck, searching around for an escape. ’Erm, bathroom.’
Iida nodded, then addressed Shinsou and Shouji. He resumed his story, about what, Shoto had to admit he hadn’t been paying attention to.
Despite his bladder being perfectly manageable, he had to follow through on his trip to the toilet. It was a pleasant break from the bustling noise of the bar, and he had it all to himself.
As Shoto washed his hands, he looked in the mirror, inspecting himself. He turned his head to the left, then to the right, and frowned when he noticed a pimple on the crease of his nose. He lightly poked it in annoyance, then sighed in resignation—popping it would only draw more attention to it. Instead, he elected to fiddle with his hair; one side stuck out at a weird angle, making the slight parting at the top of his head look like it was thinning. After what was probably a minute of struggling, he reluctantly settled for a more messy look.
Hoping to have more luck, Shoto attempted different facial expressions: his deadpan, cool look, followed by a small smile, which then turned into a smirk. As he continued looking at himself, the more he hated it. He bared his teeth, checking to see if there was anything on them, before smacking his face and dragging his hands down his cheeks.
‘I don’t know why I’m even bothering.’ He murmured. It didn’t matter how many times he actually tried to put an effort into his appearance, Midoriya never noticed or acted any differently. He wasn’t impressing anyone.
Sighing, he turned away from the mirror and exited the bathroom.
He looked across the room and immediately locked eyes with Yaoyorozu, now sitting at one of the tables, in deep conversation with Midoriya. She tilted her head, beckoning, which was all the approval he needed to make his way over.
‘It’s just so interesting the wide application of your quirk-’ Midoriya seemed blissfully unaware of his approach, as he continued what sounded like a Creati quirk analysis. ‘-I had my students discussing the incident in Tokyo the other day, seeing as it was all that they could talk about anyway. Your control-’
‘Hey Todoroki-san!’ Yaoyorozu interrupted. Her cheeks were flushed, which Shoto assumed was a result of excessive Midoriya compliments: typically thorough, sincere and inarguably irrefutable.
Apparently, just a greeting was enough for his friend to stop halfway through his sentence and flash a wide smile his way.
‘Todoroki-kun, hey! Sit down!’
And there was yet another conundrum of the evening: there were three seats at the table, and the only unoccupied one was next to Yaoyorozu. Shoto, not typically one to care about his own rudeness, was tempted to drag the chair around to her other side and sit between them. However, he decided to play the diplomat, sacrificing his own needs and taking the seat next to Yaoyorozu.
Admittedly, it wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to him. He actually quite liked his other best friend.
‘How's it going?’ He asked, tucking his chair in.
‘Good! We were just talking about you actually.’ Yaoyorozu was grinning, whilst Midoroya looked almost startled. ‘But then Midoriya-san felt compelled to tell me just how amazing I am. So, I guess you could say I'm feeling very flustered.’
Shoto looked at him and smiled softly.
‘He has a habit of doing that to people.’ He said, which seemed to turn Midoriya’s cheeks bright red. ‘You really should be used to it by now.’
‘Right.’ Yaoyorozu huffed. ‘My apologies. Clearly I haven’t been subjected to as many compliments as you. After all, Midoriya-san was just saying-’
‘I was just saying congratulations on making the top five!’ The aforementioned hastily interrupted. He then laghed awkwardly. ‘I was just gushing over what an amazing hero you are. Of course, you’ve heard it all before, so erm… I won’t subject you to it again.’
Shoto felt heat bubble along his left side; his heart thudded against his chest. Whilst listening to Midoriya praise him was a dangerous game, given his barely-repressed feelings, he was an addict. It was for that reason that Shoto opened his mouth, about to give his permission.
However, Yaoyorozu beat him to it.
‘That’s very kind of you, Midoriya-san.’ She placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Todoroki-san is a dear friend, but there’s only so much I can take.’
‘R-right, of course.’ Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck nervously, then suddenly stared at Shoto, who admittedly flinched at such a direct look. ‘I owe you that drink!’
Shoto slowly shook his head, until understanding dawned on him.
‘Oh, you were serious?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Midoriya snorted, pulling his chair back and standing. ‘What do you want?’
Shoto had learnt very early into their friendship that Midoriya wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
‘If you insist, I’ll have lemonade.’
He was met with an unimpressed look.
‘Really?’
It wasn’t peer pressure—Shoto knew that Midoriya would order whatever he wanted—but the question seemed to instill a sense of… was it shame? He wasn’t sure whether he could put a name on the emotion he was feeling. It reminded him of all the times where he had selected the wrong dialogue option in a video game.
What he did know was that he no longer wanted a lemonade.
‘Erm, okay. I’ll have whatever you’re having.’ He answered.
Midoriya considered him for a moment, but Shoto remained steadfast. Eventually, he flashed a half-grin and nodded.
‘Okay!’ He turned away, before seeming to remember something and spinning back around. ‘Yaoyorozu-san, I am so sorry. Did you also want a drink? That was so rude of me.’
He smacked his palms together in front of his face and bowed, causing her to laugh.
‘Oh no, don’t worry yourself.’ She raised her glass. ‘I have plenty of this left, so I won’t take it personally.’
Hesitantly straightening up, Midoriya nodded, then excused himself.
Yaoyorozu took a sip of her drink and sighed. ‘Poor sod.’
‘What?’ Shoto raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
She leant her free hand against her cheek and considered him.
‘I don’t know who’s more pathetic out of the two of you.’ She said; her tone was more fond than malicious. ‘You’re both obsessed with each other.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Shoto bristled, feeling his defences rising, albeit he was more offended on his friend’s behalf than his own. ‘Midoriya’s not obsessed with me.’
Yaoyorozu released an undignified laugh, only stopping once she realised Shoto wasn’t joking.
‘Yeah, okay. You know what, I’m not going to argue with you.’ She sighed. ‘The effort to reward ratio isn’t worth it.’
Shoto blinked dumbly, but understood the message. He supposed not everything in the world had to be about Midoriya.
‘Okay…’ He began slowly. ‘How have you been?’
Yaoyorozu smiled, bumping their shoulders together, and the conversation fell into easy banter. Shoto heard all about her woes—juggling personal life with running her own agency—and tried to offer his own anecdotes where he thought them helpful. It was a nice reprieve from the unfounded nervousness he had been feeling since he had walked into the bar. He felt comfortable.
Eventually, Midoriya rejoined them, sheepishly carrying two glasses of whisky.
‘Is that what you’ve been drinking all evening?’ Shoto’s eyes widened.
‘Of course, you can’t mix and match, especially at our ripe old age.’ Midoriya shrugged, sitting down. ‘I’ve been pacing myself.’ Keeping a hold of the one on the rocks, he handed Shoto the other glass. ‘Here, I know you prefer it neat.’
‘Thanks.’ He held the drink—cupped it between his hands like a secret—and smiled. He shouldn’t be surprised that Midoriya remembered such a minute, seemingly useless piece of information.
‘I promise it’s nothing you said, Midoriya-san, but Kyoka’s calling me over. I better go see what she wants.’ Yaoyorozu tactfully excused herself, but not before wrapping an arm around Shoto and squeezing lightly. ‘Thanks for listening to me waffle.’
‘You mentioned waffles?’ Shoto furrowed his eyebrows, earning him an ear flick.
‘Insufferable.’ She grumbled, then raised her glass. ‘Good luck, Midoriya-san.’
The aforementioned blushed furiously, and mirrored the gesture, before having a drink; the ice cubes clinked together with the movement.
Once Yaoyorozu had left, Shoto exhaled slowly. He was still comfortable, yes, but an almost queasy feeling took root in his belly. It happened a lot when it was just him and Midoriya. He had long attributed it to his feelings for his friend, acknowledged it and moved on with the conversation, but he suspected that the fizz from his lemonade had exacerbated it.
‘What was that about?’ Shoto pointed his thumb in her general direction.
‘Oh, erm.’ Midoriya scratched his cheek, looking away from him. ‘I told her I was going to do something either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish tonight, so I imagine it was a reference to that.’
Shoto slowly nodded his head, despite not understanding one bit.
‘Very vague… Are you alright, Midoriya?’ He started to move his hand across the table—reaching out for his friend—but thought better of it. ‘Is it anything I can help with?’
He supposed he didn’t need to know the details; he would do anything his friend asked, no questions required.
Midoriya, to his surprise, laughed quietly.
‘No, it’s okay, Todoroki-kun. Thank you though.’ His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but his tone was sincere. ‘Well, I guess I could do with a distraction.’
Shoto sniffed the rim of his glass—the vague aroma of fruity vanilla—then took a sip. He held it in his mouth, tasting strong oak and spice, before swallowing; he felt that familiar burn down his throat, and he sucked his teeth.
‘Well… how was your day?’ Old reliable. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you since I saw you.’
A look crossed Midoriya’s face that Shoto could only describe as endearing. A warm, fuzzy feeling filled him: he was the reason for the affection.
His friend proceeded to describe how work had been, what he was teaching his students, and what Shoto had missed earlier in the evening. As he was talking, Shoto couldn’t help but settle into a comfortable reverie; he could listen to Midoriya forever. There was so much passion in everything he had to say, a keen awareness of the feelings of others and himself.
His voice was like a song.
And eventually, after an innumerable amount of time had passed, the two of them fell into comfortable silence. Shoto was hunched over his empty glass, smiling. The alcohol had given him a sufficient buzz—coupled with the consequence of not having eaten a proper dinner beforehand—and their friends had kindly given them space to simply enjoy each other's company; no interruptions.
This was the evening Shoto had wished for. This was how he’d spend every evening, if he could have everything his way.
‘This is nice.’ He commented idly.
‘It is.’ Midoriya murmured in agreement. ‘I love spending time with you. I wish we could do it more often.’
Shoto couldn't help but feel guilty.
‘Same. We used to hang out every day at school.’ He smiled, nostalgic. ‘I used to follow you around all the time.’
Midoriya laughed.
‘I never used to mind.’ He admitted, bashfully. ‘It was better than watching you get followed around by a gaggle of admirers every other day.’
‘I never really noticed them.’ Shoto shrugged dismissively. ‘I was never really looking.’
‘Right.’ Midoriya chewed his lip. Shoto tried not to stare. ‘It's impressive. You've caught many eyes over the years.’
Shoto gazed into the verdant ones that had compelled him for the better part of a decade, considering.
‘I wouldn’t know.’
A beat passed, then another. Shoto watched as Midoriya seemed to hesitate: he opened his mouth, shut it, then repeated the action several times. Eventually, he took a swig of his drink and shook his head. That seemed to encourage him to say what was on his mind.
‘Y- y’know…’ He finally looked away, cheeks darkening. There was an almost wistful smile on his lips. ‘I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school.’
Shoto inhaled sharply and his eyes widened; the aged scar tissue around his left eye pulled taut. His heart hammered against his chest with a ferocity rivalling a gruelling villain fight, while all the tension rose to his head, which suddenly felt too small for all the pressure.
And then Midoriya laughed awkwardly—as if the mere idea of such a thing was ludicrous. Shoto, usually one to welcome the sound, felt nauseous.
Those words—uttered by the one person in the world who owned his heart—were both the happiest and most despairing Midoriya could’ve articulated. The knowledge that his feelings were reciprocated, however brief, made him want to press his face into his hands and release an undignified shriek, but there was one glaring detail that extinguished all of it.
Past Tense.
Regardless of the magnitude, Midoriya used to have a crush on him.
As in, he no longer had a crush on him.
Shoto couldn’t blame him. It had been years since they were in school; they had both grown and met many people since. Even the way he had seamlessly made the rounds tonight was proof enough that he was far out of Shoto's reach.
Midoriya raised his glass, covering the lower half of his face as he awaited Shoto’s response.
He had to say something, no matter how painful—extend the same courtesy, seeing as they were being honest with each other—but he couldn’t burden his friend with the full extent of his feelings.
‘I…’ He furrowed his eyebrows and looked away; he couldn’t let Midoriya see how difficult this was for him. ‘Liked you too.’
Past tense.
Except it wasn’t. Not even close.
Shoto sighed quietly. Midoriya was only privy to his left side, where the coarse skin was numb and unable to convey the same emotion as that of his right. Usually, he enjoyed how he was unable to mask his expressions in front of his best friend; the only person he felt completely comfortable with.
Apparently not comfortable with everything.
When Midoriya didn’t reply, Shoto swallowed heavily and chanced a glance at him.
He was slowly drinking from his glass; his face was blotchy and red. Despite the amount that he had clearly drunk over the course of the evening, however, his eyes looked sober, if not shiny from the light’s reflection.
‘Really?’ He murmured, hiding his mouth behind the drink.
Shoto pressed his lips together. The idea that Midoriya would even question his integrity shouldn’t have been surprising, yet he still hadn’t expected it. His feelings had always been so obvious to him—and many of their friends—that it was like asking if water was really wet.
‘Is that so surprising?’ He looked into his own glass, swirling the residual droplets around.
‘Well, yeah.’ Midoriya admitted, quietly. ‘I didn't think you liked anyone.’
Because it's only been you. It was always you.
The pounding pressure in Shoto's head was making him lightheaded, and his entire body was buzzing, albeit he wasn't certain which emotion was responsible. One thing he was certain of, however, was that he definitely couldn't say what he was thinking.
‘Generally, I don't.’ He shrugged, electing silence to follow. He didn't need to elaborate what was obvious to him: Midoriya had and always would be a special case.
Maybe, in a world where his feelings were reciprocated, things would be different.
Midoriya continued hiding behind his glass, albeit his eyes were striking; enigmatic.
‘So,’ He began, tentatively. ‘You don't like anyone now?’
The staring contest began: both of them were stubborn, albeit Shoto hesitated. There was too much weight—vulnerability—and the longer he exposed himself, the sooner Midoriya would find out the truth.
Shoto could feel his body tremble with anxiety; his cheeks were burning. How was he supposed to answer that? He didn't want to lie, nor could he tell the truth. He wished he hadn't said anything.
‘Do you?’
It was Midoriya's turn to look blindsided.
‘W-w-what?’ He stuttered. ‘I- that's not fair, Todoroki-kun. I asked you first!’
Shoto said nothing, hoping his persistent stare would make his friend crack first. No such luck.
Midoriya tried for a compromise. ‘You answer first, then I’ll answer.’
Shoto pursed his lips in response. While he certainly wasn't keen, it was a reasonable enough request where, if he did refuse, he would look suspicious.
‘Fine.’ He took a moment to gather his thoughts, ignoring Midoriya’s triumphant smile. While he couldn’t outright say that his adoration for his best friend was still going strong, he didn’t need to lie entirely. ‘There is someone.’
Midoriya’s smile faded, something which didn’t go entirely unnoticed by Shoto.
‘Really?’ A crooked finger began to pick at the chipped wood of the table in front of them. ‘What’re they like?’
What a question. Shoto wanted to laugh at the irony. Instead, he decided to say what was on his mind. Either Midoriya would be happy for him, or—the more risky option—he would figure out that Shoto still had feelings for him and let him down gently, like the considerate person he was.
Really though, the rejection had already happened with Midoriya’s initial confession. Shoto, apparently, was just a glutton for punishment.
‘He’s… incredible.’ He sighed, staring at the sticky table. ‘Kind and strong and… everything. His smile lights up the room, his eyes are beautiful; my favourite colour. I think about him when he’s not there, and when I’m with him, I feel like everything is right with the world.’ He paused. Would it be too incriminating to add- ‘He’s my hero.’
He scratched the edge of his scar, awkwardly trailing off. He had never been the best at describing his feelings—other than the basic “happy”, “sad” and “angry”s. Hopefully, what he said made some sense, although the way Midoriya was looking at him made him question whether he was even speaking Japanese. His eyebrows were furrowed together in a frown; shards of chipped wood snapped off under his fingertips.
Then, there was a loud sniff and Midoriya was wiping his eyes with his palms. Shoto’s own widened and he stood up, shuffling over to Yaoyorozu’s vacant seat and clasping his friend’s shoulder.
‘Midoriya, what-?’
But then Midoriya laughed, sudden and wet, and Shoto should’ve felt relieved, but instead, his stomach dropped, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.
‘Sorry, Todoroki-kun. That was just… beautiful, what you said.’ He sighed heavily, then placed his hand over the top of Shoto’s own; warm and shaky and a little damp. ‘I’m glad you have someone like that.’
‘I don’t have him.’ He felt compelled to clarify. He simultaneously wanted to retract his hand and keep it in place for as long as possible. ‘I want to.’
‘I’m sure you already have him. You just don’t know it.’ Midoriya smiled, kindly. ‘I, erm, I like someone too. Do you want to know about them?’
Shoto removed his hand, as if burnt, and tried to nonchalantly shrug it off. It would be rude to reply no, but a familiar tug in his lower belly told him that if he heard Midoriya talk about someone else just as earnestly as Shoto had spoken about him, it would destroy him.
Heartbroken, despite a perfectly functioning cardiovascular system.
‘Okay.’
Midoriya watched him closely, as he began.
‘This entire time, I thought he was way out of my league. No matter how many times our friends would call us oblivious, or how many wistful looks or lingering touches, I couldn’t allow myself to give in to hope. I didn’t even know if he was attracted to men, or anyone at all, really.’ He huffed affectionately. ‘Turns out he really was as obvious as they said.’
Shoto’s lips were a thin line. The tingling light-headedness became more pronounced and his heart hammered erratically, albeit for an entirely different reason than he had been expecting. After all, he wasn't so socially inept that he couldn't pick up on the context clues. It certainly sounded like Midoriya could be talking about him, but there was always a chance he could be talking about Iida, or perhaps someone from work.
It wouldn't hurt to gain further clarification.
‘Who is he?’ He asked, tactless.
Midoriya studied him for several moments, then shook his head affectionately. As Shoto nervously awaited the answer—controlling his breathing in a futile attempt to placate the rest of his body—he watched as Midoriya smiled and reached out for his hand; crooked fingers unclenched Shoto’s tight fist, guiding his calloused palm upwards. Midoriya lightly stroked along the creases with his thumb, tickling, before sliding the rest of his fingers alongside it.
Instinctively, Shoto reciprocated, trembling clumsily as they laced their hands together. He looked at the way they fit together, and a shaky exhale escaped him. He dared not move, muscles tense; it took a conscious effort to not activate his quirk. Any movement and this could all vanish, like a dream.
‘I’ve had the biggest crush on you since high school.’
Midoriya’s confession startled him out of his own head and drew his attention. Shoto was captivated by his blotchy, freckled cheeks, wobbly smile and dilated pupils. The words rung in his ears, elated.
Present tense.
Midoriya liked him… still liked him.
‘I’m in love with you.’
Shoto swallowed thickly, surprised at his own admission. However, before he could start catastrophizing, he was met with a flood of tears; and then Midoriya threw himself forwards, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and smashing their mouths together for a bruising kiss. Shoto, who had never kissed anyone before, could only close his eyes, pucker his lips and sigh through his nose.
It was amazing, but fleeting.
Midoriya pulled away, rubbing their lips together, as he leant his forehead against Shoto’s. The air between them smelled of whisky and burning, the latter of which he had a feeling he was responsible for. To compensate, he released a frosty exhale, and the resulting gasp from Midoriya filled him with a different kind of heat.
‘Sorry.’ He murmured, not entirely genuine.
‘Definitely don’t apologise.’ Midoriya laughed quietly. ‘Was that okay?’
He nodded in response, biting his lip. Encouraged, he reached out, snaking his arms underneath Midoriya’s blazer, eager to touch: prominent hips, bulky obliques, and wide lats that stretched his shirt thin. He was just so strong.
This time, it was Shoto who leant in for their second kiss, more prepared this time. Once he figured out how to position his lips so he didn’t feel like a fish, he relaxed fully, stroking Midorya’s back. The aforementioned then opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, running his hands through Shoto’s hair and scratching his scalp.
Eager to reciprocate, Shoto parted his lips; a quiet moan escaped him. It felt so intimate, just the two of them. He was kissing Midoriya. He had dreamt of this for years, but had no idea just how perfect it could feel. All the yearning touches, the tentative brushes… it was nothing compared to this.
Suddenly, Midoriya’s tongue pressed against his mouth, and Shoto panicked. His quirk activated, accidentally freezing his tongue to his upper lip. Midoriya yelped, attempted to pull back, then thought better of it.
‘Shit.’ Shoto's stomach dropped with horror, and he immediately used his heat to thaw the ice.
Once they were free, Midoriya covered his mouth with his hand, eyes comically wide. Shoto watched him intently, wondering if he'd somehow managed to fuck up his one and only chance, but then Midoriya snorted out a laugh.
‘That was probably the most adorable thing you've ever done.’ He sniggered. ‘I'll try to warn you next time I try that.’
‘Next time?’ Shoto asked.
‘Yeah.’ Midoriya huffed. ‘We've just established that we've liked each other since we were in school. Accidentally freezing our mouths together isn’t going to scare me off.’
Shoto smiled, small at first, but it grew alongside the euphoria that encompassed him. Midoriya liked him. Midoriya had kissed him. Midoriya had tried to kiss him with tongue-
Overwhelmed, Shoto leant his head on Midoriya's chest, face pressed against a large, muscled pec—fuck, that's hot—as his hands resumed their previous task of exploring beneath his blazer.
It was comforting to know that his heart was beating just as fast as Shoto's was.
Midoriya returned the hug, resting his cheek against Shoto’s hair, and everything felt right. Vaguely, he was aware that this wasn't exactly a private environment, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
‘When I wake up tomorrow, is this going to be real?’ Midoriya murmured. ‘Will Todoroki Shoto still be in love with me?’
Shoto laughed quietly, the blood flooding to his head. Yeah, he did say love, didn't he?
‘Past, present and future.’ He assured, nuzzling closer. ‘But will Midoriya Izuku still have a high school crush on me tomorrow, once the alcohol has left his system?’
Then, it was Midoriya's turn to laugh—the vibrating rumble of his chest did nothing to quell the heat that Shoto was radiating. He could stay here forever, wrapped in each other; giddy and so inordinately happy. This was the culmination of it all: years of hopelessly pining for a man, who he hadn't known was always in reach.
‘I adore you.’ Midoriya breathed. ‘Past, present and future.’