Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shouto loves the dirty water of the pond. The koi fish swim around in it without a care and Shouto, being the child he is, has half a mind to wonder what it’s like.

His mother would scold him if he fell into the pond, the algae staining his pure white shirt. The amount of times she had had to wash out grass stains from his trousers when he had tripped over his own feet. But he’s a child. His mother tells him it’s all the same down to the very last child. The only thing that was different with the final Todoroki was that he was never a crier.

It was strange, considering that all his siblings had sobbed their eyes out whenever something went slightly wrong. They were all quickly whipped into shape, their father strictly telling them that Todorokis show no fear.

Shouto had been like that from the start. He showed no fear, nor much emotion for that matter. Everything he felt was on the inside, like he was only showing his emotions to himself; his emotions were his and his only. His sister preferred to show her concern and worries on her brow along with her anxiety through her shaking hands. Shouto wasn’t sure about his brothers, as he barely knew them. He had been told that their oldest was the most adventurous, taking life as it came and making the best of it.

Shouto understood why his brothers had been sent away. The eldest Todoroki didn’t sound anything like the way Shouto had been raised.

He grows, still pushed and shoved into his place in the family. He’s Todoroki Shouto, the so-called pride and joy of the Todoroki family. He had been whisked away from his siblings since he was old enough to walk, groomed into the perfect little boy. His father is highly regraded, known for taking care of Shouto after his mother had “abused” him. Shouto was never allowed to speak of what his father had done to her, and soon he was pulled away from his own mother when she was shipped off to a mental institution.

Shouto learns of the word kyoiku mama, a mother who pushes her children into academic achievements, and wishes he could apply it to his father.

As he grows, he forgets. He’d tried so hard to wipe away the memories of his childhood that clung to him like a leech. They swallowed his mind through out school, until he learned to shut them down, along with his feelings. His eyes held no light, just like he wanted them to for years. He’d let the resentment towards his father boil under his skin before freezing it over, shoving it into the hollows of his mind for a later date.

Maybe one day he’d learn to open up. He didn’t care either way. He moved out of home, shutting his father out for the last time before heading off to college.

That had been a few months ago. He now sits in front of the koi fish pond, his hand in the water before he can realise what he’s doing and the thin screen of algae attaches to his hand like the leeches of his childhood.

Shouto isn’t in pain though. He’s calmer than he’s ever been before in his childhood home. He can hear his sister calling out for him, saying his father wishes to see him but Shouto doesn’t look up. His hand is still in the water and one of the fish brush against it. He isn’t frightened, only watches as the only white fish in the pond weaves around his hand, its tail fanning against his knuckles.

Shouto is alone, but he’s always liked the difference between loneliness and being alone. The leaves of the overhanging trees shield the pond from any eyes of the courtyard, and Shouto is grateful.

Todoroki Shouto, the little boy crafted to perfection through discipline and training, is now a nineteen year old with his hand in the koi fish pond his mother would have scolded him for had she seen him.

Shouto pulls his hand out, shaking off the water. Thin algae sticks to his hand and he gazes at it. A hand on his shoulder shakes him slightly but he doesn’t look. He knows it belongs to his sister and as she crouches down next to him, he looks at her.

“Father wishes to see you,” Fuyumi repeats and Shouto nods.

“I know,” he replies, standing up. His kimono straightens out on his body as he sighs. His sister offers his a rag to wipe away the algae, but he wonders what his father would think if he walked into his office with a green and yellow hand.

He takes the rag and wipes his hands.

Shouto’s balcony is small, but it’s just enough for him. His apartment itself is small, so he doesn’t ask for much. His building overlooks the city, igniting his apartment with the transmission tower lights when the sun disappears.

He doesn’t take up much space and it’s not as if he wants lawn chairs or anything like that. He sits with his little round coffee, a bright red radio sitting onto of it along with his feet. He thinks of the German word fernweh, feeling homesick for a place you’ve never visited. He had always wanted to live in the city; to be free from his father’s house but then again, he misses the koi fish pond. He somehow missed the city while he was stuck at home, watching his sister prune the trees of the garden through his window.

The radio tells him the weather as if he’s not sitting in the spring heat, reading over his papers he’s yet to hand in. He leans on his hand, not bothering to think about the handprint that will be left there once he stretches.

What Shouto likes about his balcony, is that he has succulents and flowers decorate what once was empty space around him. Flowers decorate the railing, along with vines that grow over the pots. Shouto loves them, and everyone knows to give Shouto plants anytime a gift occasion arises.

It’s beautiful, he thinks. It’s a shame he’s not a literature major. He could write about his flowers all day but he’s not one for words. He likes simple things, things that don’t take up much of his time.

Shouto’s eyes land on the one large orchid that sits in the clay pot in the middle of all his succulents. It’s yellow, and Shouto remembers when his sister would dye the roses of their garden with their mother. Those roses were white though.

Shouto liked that flowers had meaning, too. White roses stand for purity, yellow carnations for rejection. Emotions expressed through flowers, never being said through words. It was strange, how the world worked.

“And that’s the forecast for today-“

Shouto shuts off his radio and sinks into his chair, paper boy hat flopping on his head. He sighs, papers falling onto the floor along with his hand. He raises his other hand, studying it.

Blue veins crisscross near his wrist. On the back, green veins poke out, leading into red knuckles. Faint scars run over his hands and he drags a finger over them. He cracks his knuckles absentmindedly, along with his neck as he watches the city. It moves, without just one person being in charge. Shouto had always thought that his father ran the world, considering that his father ran his world.

Shouto sighs heavily, lifting himself up. He lives alone, sleeps alone. No one hurts him, harms him, controls him, anymore. Shaking his head, he grabs his small watering can and begins to tend to his flowers.

He switches his radio on again, filling his head with the latest music.

Izuku gazes down at his haiku, green eyes narrowed. His brain feels fuzzy and he can’t get the last line down. He feels like he’s in a movie, trying his best to get the final line of dialogue out perfectly before the director can yell cut.

Izuku runs his hands through his hair and frowns. He’s too exhausted to feel frustrated, the words of his haiku beginning to blend together. He chews his fingernail before sighing, wiping his hand on his jeans before fiddling with his hands underneath the table.

He sighs, rubbing at his eyes. It’s late and he’s tired. He feels dizzy as he packs his backpack.

If only he could get that final line down! He loves writing, honestly. Writing to create a story that image just can’t paint. But he feels completely stuck, staring down at his incomplete haiku. He’s been staring at it for hours but his brain feels like a spec of dust in the wind.

Izuku feels so drained, he might collapse.

He stands up slowly, his legs wobbling from sitting for so long. He grabs his phone and pencil case, tucking it under his arm. He waves to the librarian, taking his leave.

Izuku plugs in his earphones, putting the buds into his ears and letting his fingers tap against his backpack straps.

A walk through the city back to his apartment always makes him feel alive. He breathes in the air through his nose, exhaling through his mouth and sighs. He feels electric underneath the city lamps. He drops his shoulders, feeling the lights of the city fan across his freckled cheeks.

He’s a literature major, painting the world with his words. He feels airy, like he’s walking on clouds despite feeling so drained. The city always makes him feel alive.

Ever since he was young, he loved words. Sounds stupid, yeah. But ever since he’s been able to talk, he’s been describing, wanting, talking, chatting, laughing. Izuku grew up alone, his mother his everything. She’s a children’s book author and illustrator, spiking Izuku’s love for children’s literature.

His mother is his everything, as said before. She raised him all alone, treating him with nothing but care and love. She was quite young when baby Izuku came into her life but she never once complained. Only raised him with everything he deserved and anything she could offer him.

Izuku misses his mother. The city sometimes has never felt so far from his childhood home where he knows his mother is waiting for his next visit. He closes his eyes, remembering her scent of fresh flowers and home.

His apartment is small, but so is he compared to this city. Compared to anyone, actually. The joys of being five foot five!

He doesn’t mind though; nothing really ever bothers Izuku, strangely. Well, some things that he overthinks bother him. Like when he’s in the line for coffee or something and he gets to the front of the line and tries to pay but the cashier starts serving the person behind him and Izuku is still trying to put his change away and he keeps apologising and-

Not many things bother Izuku, like he said. Things that give him anxiety is an entirely different story.

He never asks for much; his apartment is evident of that. His mother supports him, along with his own money from working throughout high school. It’s easy, he thinks. Simple. The apartment building isn’t exactly high class, but it’s not dead end and he likes it.

Calming, the apartment is, which is good for his tendency to be naturally nervous. He’d have to thank his mother for that.

But his apartment is calming, despite being small. It’s only for him and although he feels lonely and misses his mother (straight from high school into college), it’s enough for him to be grateful to even be in that apartment. He longs for home, but the city is his home now, no matter how much he misses his mother.

Posters cover his walls, just like his bedroom at home. He feels safe at the very least, all his super hero posters plastered against his walls and his action figures on his shelves. It’s nerdy, it’s dorky but he can’t help it. He’s a child at heart, of course.

Izuku stretches out on his couch, smiling to himself. His music still plays in his ears and he watches the skyline through the window, sighing dreamily.

The city will swallow you whole, he’s heard. It’s in songs, his friends back home told him, along with his teachers. But he doesn’t feel that way. The city might swallow him, but he’ll fight to stay afloat until his last breath.

Likening the city to the ocean?

Izuku writes that down, hoping to salvage something from it later on.

Shouto digs into his pocket for his mail box key, pulling out his keys. He just in his boxers, no class disrupting his sleep. He nods to a redhead who he usually sees with his hair spiked up to the roof, and he smiles at Shouto.

“Lazy day?” he asks and Shouto nods. The redhead looks roughly the same, a large tank top tucked into one side of his shorts. The only difference is that Shouto is wearing shoes. He notices that the redhead’s fingers and toes are painted black, along with black circles within more circles tattooed on his right shoulder.

Shouto blinks slowly, pulling out his mail. He shifts through the range of newsletters from his university, a few letters from friends back home and stops when he sees his sister’s name.

He shuts his mailbox, nodding to the redhead again and heading upstairs, taking them two at a time.

Todoroki Fuyumi is written on the back of the letter and Shouto opens it, finding the letter is actually from his sister this time, not from his father trying to communicate to him.

She writes about their family home, saying things about their father and about how she’s going and what she’s been doing. Shouto only skims the parts about their father and stops suddenly when he reads hospital.

Fuyumi says she’d like him to visit their mother. Shouto blinks.

She’s just been moved to a new one and I think you’ll like it. She’d love to see you, Shouto. I’m sure of it.

That’s right. Their mother had recently moved hospitals, curtesy of their father himself. He still said he cared for their mother, but Shouto found that hard to believe. Fuyumi would hush him whenever Shouto spoke up about that matter, hoping that their father hadn’t heard Shouto call their father vulgar names.

“You’ll understand one day,” his sister had said but Shouto was positive he never would. He was positive Fuyumi didn’t even understand. Who would understand when their father insisted that he still loved their mother after hitting her and being the sole reason she was put in the hospital?

Shouto grew up with a father that was destined to break him and without a mother who was the only reason he survived his younger days. But she eventually turned against him, screaming and throwing herself against the wall as the boiling water seeped into Shouto’s left eye, staining it forever.

The phone laid on the ground, his grandmother demanding to know what was going as Shouto cried, along with his mother.

Shouto shivered, the letter shaking along with his hands. His finger tips felt cold as he pressed them to his scar, like the wound was as fresh as it had been all those years ago.

Shouto leaves the letter on the coffee table and takes a shower, full well knowing the scolding water won’t wash off the feelings crawling under his skin.

The city feels too much now.

Izuku hunches his shoulders and heaves a sigh. His poems to analyse lie in front of him, unannotated but highlighted in green. He purses his lips, puffing out his cheeks and sighs heavily.

“Fresh air never hurt anyone, right?” Izuku mumbles, opening his door to his balcony and letting the crisp city air flow through his apartment. He leans on his balcony, cracking his back and looking up to the sky.

The stars are clear in the city, despite all the suburban folk complaining about smog and pollution. It’s beautiful. The stars are as bright as they can be on a spring night, the warm breeze filtering over Izuku. It blows his hair into his face, threatening to obscure the stars in his view but he doesn’t let them.

Izuku sighs, rolling over and crossing his arms. His black hoodie flows with the light wind and he frowns when soft music hits his ears. He looks to his right, sweeping his view across the city before he sees his left, eyes widening at the boy that sits there.

A hat covers his eyes but Izuku can see the pure white hair poking out of the hat. He looks peaceful and Izuku figures he might be asleep. He doesn’t blame the boy; the breeze is just enough for the weather not to be hot but not cold. Izuku could honestly fall asleep as well, the light music following over to his apartment and calming his jitters.

Izuku studies him, strangely enough. Succulents sit next to the boy, along with a single orchid, yellow in colour. His chest rises softly in time with the music and Izuku leans over the side of his balcony, towards the boy.

If he fell, he wouldn’t blame the boy.

Izuku feels all the words flow through his head, the ones he’s been missing for days to complete that haiku. The boy is beautiful, to say the very least. Izuku thinks that he’s what fairytales are talking about when they say “prince charming”. He’s always loved fairy tales and now he knows what they on about.

The boy frowns in his sleep before shaking his head and waking himself up. Izuku is a deer caught in the headlights when the boy makes eye contact with him, revealing mismatched eyes and the other side of his hair, blood red in colour. A scar lays across his skin, covering his hazel green eye.

He doesn’t look surprised, but Izuku must look mortified. He can feel his cheeks as hot as the sun on a summer’s day, and stumbles back from the balcony railing. He falls back onto his chair over the arm rest, one leg sticking up in the air.

“Can I help you?” the boy asks like he hadn’t just seen Izuku fall on his ass and Izuku’s eyes widen.

“A-Ah no, no! Not- uh - not really. I’m just-“ He swallows quickly, rubbing his neck. He stands clumsily, hunching his shoulders. “Your… Your flowers are-... very nice. I was... looking at them. They’re very- uh- very beautiful.”

The boy stares at him, his face expressionless. His lips part and Izuku thinks he’s about to say something but he only nods. Izuku grabs the side of the railing, trying to ground himself.

“Thank you,” the boy says suddenly, reaching out to turn his radio off. He stops himself before glancing up at Izuku. “Do you want it turned on?”

Izuku feels his face heat up again when he meets the boy’s eyes. He blinks at him before nodding, his hands tightening on the railing. “Y-Yes! If that’s- um - If that’s alright…”

The boy nods simply, standing up and cracking his back. He opens his door before pausing again. He decides against it, heading inside and out of Izuku’s sight. Izuku stands there like a blushing school girl and swallows, loosening his grip on the railing.

Izuku stares down at his feet before balling his hands into fists and smiling. He knows exactly what to write for his poems, and his haiku. He grabs his notebook, planting himself down on the chair on his balcony, back turned to the boy’s balcony. He glances back every so often to catch the details of the plants, smiling to himself with red cheeks.

It’s probably creepy. Actually, no. It is creepy. But Izuku can’t help it. He’s been lacking inspiration for basically weeks and he needs this. He needs to describe the succulents and lone orchid flowing in the wind. The boy doesn’t seem real, like he’ll turn to dust and fly away just like the yellow petals on the orchid occasionally.

Izuku ends up falling asleep when it’s late, his note book on his stomach and possibly in the most uncomfortable way he could manage in his small chair. There’s a pen held loosely by his fingers while another is behind his ear.

He sleeps like that, in the most uncomfortable position he can muster but it’s a good sleep. One he’s been awaiting for a very long time.

Shouto stands in his kitchen with his tea cup pressed against his lips, a frown on his brow. He swallows, deciding against the rest of his cup and tipping it down the sink.

His bed seems awfully compelling right now and he heads towards it before stopping.

Right. His radio.

Shouto sighs, opening up the door and reaching out to turn off his radio. He glances to his right to see if the boy is still there and does a double take at the position he’s in.

The boy sits with one leg off the banana lounge chair, the other foot pulled close to his thigh, tucked underneath. One hand is on the floor, much like Shouto’s own hand that held the papers a few days ago but instead of papers, it’s a blue pen. A black one is nestled behind his ear and a notebook lays crooked on his chest and stomach.

Shouto can’t help but give a tiny smile at the sight. He can’t reach from here to wake the boy up. He frowns, clenching his jaw. He turns the radio up, hoping he doesn’t get a noise complaint from his obnoxious downstairs neighbours and waits for the boy to stir.

Shouto picks up the radio, inching it closer to the boy by outstretching his arm and gives a tiny nod when the boy’s fingers twitch. He watches as the boy frowns, reaching a hand up to rub his eyes. He glances around, meeting Shouto’s eyes with wide green eyes.

Shouto realises that he’s covered in freckles. How he missed that before, he doesn’t know. The kid is completely covered in them, the darker dots scrolled across his skin. It’s cute, he thinks. It’s appealing. Shouto wouldn’t be surprised if the constellations in the sky above them were hidden in his freckles.

Shouto blinks and clears his head before he ends up saying something stupid.

The boy rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and frowns. “Is it… What t-time is it?” he asks and the radio ends the song, the presenter saying the station and the time: 10:29 in the evening.

The boy swallows, his eyes widening. “I… Th-Thanks for- um- for waking me up…”

“That position could not have been comfortable,” Shouto replies simply. The boy laughs nervously.

“It r-really wasn’t,” the boy manages, looking down at his chair. “B-But when you’re… When you’re as tired as I was, you’ll take sleep any way it comes.”

Shouto knows that too well. The amount of times he has fallen asleep on the bus despite the rocky terrain and squeaky intercom of the bus driver’s raspy voice. He couldn’t help it. Long trips put him to sleep, no matter how uncomfortable or how the dusty chairs were.

Shouto only nods in understanding. He sets his radio down, switching it off. He takes one look at the city below and sighs.

“M-Midoriya.”

Shouto looks at the boy, his eyes a fraction wider. “Excuse me?”

The boy picks at his nails. “M-My name. It’s Midoriya I-Izuku.” He shrugs, averting his eyes. “We’re neighbours, s-so I figured- um- I thought I should introduce myself.”

Shouto sniffs, looking at his freckled hands. “Todoroki Shouto.”

Midoriya looks up at the Todoroki and Shouto resists the urge to roll his eyes. He closes them instead but Midoriya doesn’t say anything.

There’s no “No way! Todoroki, did you say? As in Todoroki Enji? The politician? No way!”

Shouto, for once, is surprised.

He opens his eyes to meet Midoriya’s gaze which seems to be calm for the first time that entire day when looking at Shouto. He gives a wide grin, reaching over the railing and offering his hand. Shouto notices his feet are wedged in between the railing to give himself a few extra centimetres. He really is short, Shouto notices. At least five foot five. Shouto vaguely remembers his mother being a little taller than that, but he can’t place his finger on it. It’s been years, after all.

Once again, Shouto shakes his head and blinks at Midoriya who’s beaming at him.

“Nice to meet you!” Midoriya says and Shouto takes his hand, pale against tanned freckled. Scarred against scarred, he realises.

“Yes,” Shouto replies dumbly, shaking his hand across the balcony. Midoriya beams at him and Shouto can only blink at the brightness that matches his beloved city.

Izuku spies Todoroki looking into a small notebook.

He’s not sure what it is from where he is, but he can gather that it’s either a diary or some kind of puzzle book. Todoroki looks invested in it, but Izuku knows that the weather is beautiful today and as much as he doesn’t want to disturb Todoroki, his papers are begging to be completed in the spring sunshine.

Izuku closes the sliding door behind him, smiling at Todoroki when he looks up. Todoroki offers him a simple nod before turning up the radio so Izuku can hear it a little better. Todoroki goes back to his puzzle book or diary while Izuku sets up.

“Homework?” Todoroki asks without looking up and Izuku nods.

“Unfortunately,” Izuku replies, shrugging. An English band is playing and Izuku hums to it, tapping his pen lightly against his notebook. He’s just drafting at this point, trying to figure out what to group together to write on for his third paragraph. Once he gets that down, he can then complete his introduction.

“You’re a literature major, right?” Todoroki’s voice interrupts Izuku’s thoughts and he looks up, meeting Todoroki’s eyes.

He’s leaning his elbows on the railing, small book in one hand along with a pen. He blinks at Izuku when he only stares back.

“Yes!” Izuku blurts with too much gusto. He clears his throat. “Y-Yeah, I am. Why do you ask? You’re a- um- a medical student, right?” Todoroki looks like the type for medicine, strangely enough.

Todoroki nods. “Yes, I am. Bachelor of Medicine.”

“Hoping to go into journalism,” Izuku replies, smiling at him. “Why- um- Why do you ask?” he repeats.

Todoroki reaches over the balcony, giving Izuku his book of crosswords. So Izuku was right on one hand.

“I need another word for endless,” Todoroki says, pointing to the spaces. “And avoid.”

Izuku frowns at the crossword. There’s seven spaces for endless, and five for avoid. He shuffles through the synonyms in his head for both words, muttering them aloud.

“It- It has to start with e so,” Izuku purses his lips. “Elude? No… Actually! No, because the word oval passes through it.” Izuku blinks at the crossword before smiling. “Evade,” he says, smiling up at Todoroki. He looks for endless and ends up filling in another word, giving the book back to Todoroki.

“Marie Antoinette?” Todoroki frowns, seeing what Izuku has filled in. “Oh. The last queen of France before the revolution.”

“That’s right,” Izuku smiles. “A-And the word for endless was eternal.”

“Ah,” Todoroki replies, looking down at his crossword. “Thank you, Midoriya.”

“I-It’s fine, Todoroki-kun,” Izuku replies, slumping his shoulders. “I’m glad I- um- I’m glad I could help.”

Todoroki cracks his back in one swift movement. He continues to lean on the railing. He bites the inside of his cheek. “Why literature?” he asks suddenly, making Izuku look up.

“Why…?” Izuku swallows. “M-My mother is a- uh- she’s a c-children’s book author a-and illustrator.”

“Are you following after her?” Todoroki asks, his crosswords abandoned in favour of looking at Izuku. He meets his mismatched eyes, blinking a few times.

“O-Oh, no! No, I’m- I’m no artist,” Izuku says, shaking his hands. “I’m- I’m lucky I’m good with words.”

Todoroki nods slowly. Izuku takes the plunge and asks him why he’s studying medicine. He looks avoidant, despite probably knowing that this is usually how conversations go.

“A family member would want me to,” is all he says and Izuku feels as though he shouldn’t pry. Todoroki doesn’t look like he wants to talk about anything anymore, so Izuku drops it.

“T-Tell me about your flowers,” Izuku says instead and Todoroki stares at him. “T-The ones on your balcony.”

“Yes,” Todoroki replies immediately. He stands up straight, picking up a succulent that looks like a blooming flower. “Hayling,” he says, passing it to Izuku over the railing. “A gift from my friend from high school on my birthday last year.”

Izuku tilts his head, looking all around the plant before passing it back to Todoroki as he exchanges the hayling for another.

“Grafted cactus,” Todoroki says and Izuku smiles.

“It looks fluffy,” he says and Todoroki makes a disgruntled face.

“I can assure you most of them are not,” he responds, and Izuku thinks he catches a smile on Todoroki’s lips. He hands the grafted back to Todoroki, taking another that looks roughly the same as the first, only spikier.

“Echeveria Sirius,” Todoroki informs him and Izuku can’t help but touch it. He instantly regrets it and pulls away quickly, shaking his hand.

“Told you,” Todoroki says. Izuku smiles sheepishly, his cheeks heating up. He hands the succulent back, Todoroki seating it back in its place. He waves to the others succulents, mentioning their names. Izuku watches him, seeing the way Todoroki’s eyes gain a little bit of light. Todoroki’s voice is nice. It’s deep but not raspy. It’s a constant tone but not one that bores. Izuku likes it just as much as Todoroki’s radio.

“W-What about the orchid?” Izuku asks and Todoroki looks at his orchid.

“My sister,” he replies, picking up the pot. “She gave me this after I moved out.” He looks down at the yellow orchid. “Yellow orchids symbolise joy and new beginnings.”

“New beginnings,” Izuku echoes, smiling. “T-That’s really sweet of her.”

Todoroki nods, setting the orchid down. “My sister is very special to me,” he says simply, leaning on the railing again. “She is the kindest woman I know.”

Izuku leans on the railing too, the two of them casually talking.

Izuku forgets about his essay, but he doesn’t mind. Todoroki is a lot more interesting than his third paragraph.

It becomes a routine to go outside on his balcony whenever Izuku hears the music from the red radio. It’s easy, for the both of them. They’re not alone in their completely different studies and that’s good for Izuku. With Todoroki’s radio playing softly, the light breeze carrying the music over to Izuku’s ears, it makes him forget about his phone with his earphones plugged in that’s laying on his bed inside.

Todoroki sits there on his balcony, pen in hand along with a laptop on his coffee table. He sits in his throne of succulents and flowers, frowning down at his notebook.

“What did the notebook d-do to you?” Izuku laughs, crossing his legs once his sits down. Todoroki looks up, slumping his shoulders.

“It’s my studies,” Todoroki responds, scratching his eyebrow. “I’m not confused. Just frustrated.”

“I’m- I get- I get that,” Izuku smiles nervously, shifting in his chair. “B-But summer break is coming soon! You-You must be excited?”
Todoroki nods again. Izuku has realised that he’s not always one for talking, but that doesn’t matter. When he does talk, he’s kind of blunt but Izuku doesn’t mind. He can talk for hours, despite his mumbling and stuttering. Todoroki doesn’t seem to mind though. It’s nice, the way they work.

Izuku likes Todoroki. He’s calm and collected. He never speaks unless spoken to, but Izuku doesn’t know why. He’s quiet, but it isn’t bad. Todoroki isn’t expressive, but it’s the slight furrow to his brow when he’s frustrated, or the tight line of his lips when he’s surprised that makes him seem so Todoroki-kun.

He’s the exact polar opposite of Izuku, but he’s not cold. Izuku finds him as warm as the spring sun, actually. His eyes are bright, despite Todoroki coming off as emotionless sometimes. When he talks about his flowers and his sister and his studies, he’s calm and beautiful. Izuku feels like he’s allowed to say that; he’s probably what girls dream about when they’re younger.

Todoroki shuts his laptop, leaning back in his chair. He watches the city as it moves below them before sighing. He speaks suddenly, startling Izuku.

“I don’t think I’ve eaten in two days.”

Izuku sputters, dropping his pen and knocking his water bottle over onto the floor. “You-You what?” he basically yells, leaning forward.

Todoroki turns his head, meeting Izuku’s shocked expression with a blank one. “I ate bits and pieces-“

“Two days!” Izuku rushes inside before sticking his head out to the balcony. “You need to eat!” He grabs the railing, screwing up his face determinedly. “Come over!” he declares and Todoroki’s eyes widen just a fraction.

“E-Excuse me?” It’s Todoroki’s turn to stutter.

“I-I want to- to make you something!” Izuku says and Todoroki blinks, his face blank. He averts his eyes, lifting up his radio. He looks away before taking a deep breath, peering back at Izuku.

“Then I’ll come,” Todoroki decides, hoisting up his radio. Izuku hears his door close before he races to his own, swinging open before Todoroki has a chance to knock.

Izuku meets his eyes with a wide smile and Todoroki only blinks down at him, his eyes clear and light.

The lightest Izuku has ever seen them.

Shouto’s radio sits on Midoriya’s coffee table this time but Shouto finds that he has no problem with it. Midoriya is cutting up spring onions and Shouto feels compelled to help but Midoriya had already told him to sit down once and he wasn’t going to push his luck.

Shouto looks around his apartment instead, noticing the little notes stashed around his apartment. Shouto can only guess that it’s literature. There’s a small book on his coffee table with Romeo and Juliet scrolled across it, along with various other titles Shouto can’t understand. He studies them before swallowing.

“What about Dante?” he says, loud enough for Midoriya to hear. The chopping stops and Midoriya’s eyes shine when he looks at Shouto.

“You know Dante?” is all he asks. Shouto nods and Midoriya smiles. “I-I love his poems! I’m sure you’ve heard of Divine Comedy?”

“Of course,” Shouto replies, his eyes softening as Midoriya goes onto stutter and talk in the way he often does, all about Dante and his works, exaggerating with his hands even with the knife firmly grasped in his right hand.

Shouto has half a mind to think the knife will end up in the wall or something half way across the apartment but Midoriya is too passionate about Dante. Shouto can’t just tell him to stop.

Midoriya serves up mushroom Takikomi Gohan and Shouto thinks of home. The smell of the dish drifting through the house and his mother’s singing comes to mind, and he doesn’t want the memories to go away. It’s bittersweet, but he finds that he doesn’t mind. He stares down at the bowl as Midoriya watches him with wide eyes.

“I-I didn’t know what you like…” Midoriya mumbles. “But… it’s s-something.”

“Thank you,” Shouto replies, looking up. “It looks amazing.”

Midoriya’s smile starts off small before he smiles widely, teeth and all. Shouto shifts forward, and with one glance at Midoriya, he begins to eat.

Needless to say, Midoriya’s cooking is beautiful. It’s a simple dish, Shouto knows, but it’s pleasant. Not overdone, but still impressive. Shouto wonders where Midoriya learned to cook and realises he’s already asked out loud before he can stop himself.

“W-Where I learned?” Midoriya makes a face. “My mother, of course! S-She raised me. B-By herself. It… We learned to c-cook together.”

Shouto nods in understanding. “That sounds nice,” he replies. “Is your mother similar to you?”

Midoriya snorts. “Yeah. We’re exactly the same. Expect she- uh- she faints when she gets nervous.”

“You don’t?” Shouto asks, an obvious tease, and Midoriya laughs.

“Lucky for me, uh, no, I do not.” Midoriya smiles, laughing into his hand. “U-Unless it’s really bad. I- um- I fainted before an e-exam in high school.” He rubs his neck, averting his eyes. “But that w-was only twice.”

Shouto nods slowly, thinking. “My sister is the same,” he says. “Well, not fainting. But she comes close. She-“ Fuyumi’s going to hate him for this- “She throws up sometimes.”

Midoriya nods, his brow furrowed in concern. “T-That’s happened to me before… More often than the f-fainting…”

Shouto sniffs, rubbing his nose. “Fuyumi will never forgive me for telling you that.” Midoriya chuckles, covering his mouth with his hand. Shouto’s eyes soften as he watches Midoriya laugh, his cheeks red.

“Thank you,” Shouto says again. “For cooking. And for helping me.”

Midoriya stares at him, his lips parting. His eyes are wide and he swallows. “I-It’s okay, Todoroki-kun.”

Shouto tilts his head, blinking once. Midoriya shifts before giving a small smile. Shouto averts his eyes, his mouth twitching up. Midoriya breaks and ends up smiling widely, grinning as bright as the sun.

“Do you speak French?”

Izuku looks up at Todoroki who’s leaning over the railing. He stands, meeting him halfway and taking the paper from Todoroki’s hand.

“N-Not really…” Izuku frowns at the paper. “Why?”

“So you wouldn’t know of the French term l’appel du vide?” Todoroki asks and Izuku shakes his head.

“The call of the void,” Todoroki responds, taking the paper from him. “It’s the feeling you get when you’re at the top of a tall building and you feel the urge to throw yourself off it.”

“Oh, God…” Izuku shivered involuntarily and Todoroki nods solemnly. “T-That’s… Wow.”

“It’s a strange feeling,” Todoroki says. “Like vertigo.”

“O-Or deja vu?” Izuku tries and Todoroki cracks a small smile.

“Yes,” he replies, looking down between the two balconies. “You don’t have a fear of heights, do you?”

“D-Depends how high I am,” Izuku says, looking down with him. Their heads almost press together, green mixing with white and red.

Izuku hadn’t realised how high they were but he strangely doesn’t feel scared. The fifth floor isn’t too bad, considering how much higher he’s been before.

“How are you with heights?” Izuku whispers and Todoroki shrugs.

“I don’t find them scary, if that’s what you’re asking.” Todoroki looks up, meeting Izuku’s eyes. “The city is so high up, despite us only being on the fifth floor. I like it.”

“You like heights?” Izuku asks, looking up at him.

“Yes,” he replies. “I never understood why city folk were so angry when I was younger. Now I understand.” Izuku frowns at him and Todoroki gives his millimetre smile. “Altitude sickness.

Izuku snorts, pulling back to slap a hand over his mouth. “A-Altitude sickness?” he echoes and Todoroki shakes his head.

“I’m joking,” he says, folding his arms and leaning on the railing once again. “But I do have a reason. I think it’s because once you’re at the top, there’s nowhere else to go. City folk work to keep themselves at the top of the food chain.” Todoroki looks out into the city with a slightly furrowed brow.

“One thing I miss about home is the koi fish,” Todoroki says and Izuku tilts his head.

“Y-You had a koi fish pond?” Izuku asks and Todoroki nods.

“With only one white fish.” Todoroki studies his hand. “I… When I was younger, I would put my hand in the pond. I had been scolded for it, so I never did it again. I broke that vow a few months ago.”

“You stuck your hand in?” Izuku prompts and Todoroki nods.

“Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?” he says calmly and Izuku feels his cheeks heat up. Todoroki blinks before waving him off.

“I didn’t mean that in a harsh way,” he says quickly. “Pochemuchka. It’s a Russian word. It means a person who asks too many questions. But I like your questions.”

“M-My mother used to tell me I asked too many questions,” Izuku responds. “B-But I was just curious. That’s why I ask.”

“I figured,” Todoroki answers, his voice soft. “Your questions are good, Midoriya. I don’t mind answering them if you’re the one asking.”

Izuku smiles softly at him, his freckled cheeks pink.

Izuku starts his day slow. Todoroki doesn’t have class today but he sure does.

He sits on his balcony, back pack on his shoulders as Todoroki sips his tea. Izuku looks terrible, he knows this. Dark rings under usually bright green eyes. freckled skin pale.

“You look like you just rolled out of bed,” Todoroki says, observing him. “Are you alright?”

“Class,” Izuku replies. “I-I was-“ a yawn - “Um… I was studying.”

Todoroki nods in understanding. “Well, good luck then. I hope you feel better soon.”

Izuku nods, tapping the railing. “I-I’ll see you tonight?” he asks and Todoroki sets his tea down.

“Of course,” he replies, waving him off as he picks up his watering can. “Have a good day, Midoriya.”

“You too, Todoroki-kun!”

Izuku opens his door, blinking down at the letter that’s been slipped under his door. He swallows, picking it up.

Next door is scrolled across it and Izuku opens it up, his eyes bright.

Todoroki’s hand writing is surprisingly messy. Izuku thought it would be neat just from the way he talks and presents himself, but the ink is slightly smudged. But even then, Todoroki’s words are just the same as real life.

Izuku folds the letter again, placing it on his kitchen bench and smiles. He drops his backpack, turns his music off and heads to Todoroki’s apartment, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” comes Todoroki’s voice, louder than usual. He greets Izuku with a nod, turning back to his chopping board. Izuku waves the letter and Todoroki nods.

“T-The ink is a little smudged,” Izuku says. He noticed Todoroki is cutting with the knife in his left hand and shuts his mouth. Todoroki waves his hand for emphasis, dismissing the subject.

“Katsudon?” he asks instead and Izuku smiles widely.

“I-I love it,” he replies. “It’s my favourite dish.”

“Lucky me,” Todoroki responds, hiding his millimetre smile as he cuts up the shallots. “I’m yet to do the egg wash. Could you help?”

Izuku nods, tying his hair back with the elastic band around his wrist. It’s only his fringe, but it’s all he needs to keep his thick hair off his face. He grabs the metal bowl from the sink, rinses it and cracks two eggs in at the same time.

“I’m assuming you’ve made this before,” Todoroki says, scraping the shallots into a small bowl. His eyes are focused and Izuku smiles down at the egg bowl as he whisks them.

“I told you my mother taught me to cook,” he responds, throwing a smile over his shoulder. Todoroki’s radio plays as it always does, music milling around the two of them as they cook.

Needless to say, Izuku had to ask Todoroki to cook more often. Despite Izuku helping Todoroki cook it, it’s still nice to think that Todoroki chose the dish and wanted to prepare it for Izuku.

It’s really, really nice, Izuku thinks. Todoroki is an amazing cook and they just talk as they eat. His mother’s lessons really came in handy and when Todoroki thanked him for the egg wash and began to serve up the food, Izuku’s chest felt warm.

It’s easy. Todoroki’s radio has been taken outside with them, sitting on the floor a few steps in front of Todoroki. They sit on Todoroki’s balcony this time, Izuku taking the boy’s chair as Todoroki sits cross legged on the ground.

“My favourite food?” Todoroki’s brow furrows slightly. “Probably cold Soba.”

“Cold?” Izuku echoes. “E-Even in winter?”

Todoroki nods. “My sister would make it for me any time of the year. It’s been my favourite food since I was young.”

Izuku smiles at him, and feels his stomach and heart and probably his brain jump when Todoroki turns his head, trying to hide his pink cheeks.

Since he had arrived, Izuku had noticed a lot of things.

Todoroki left his things laying around which included his laptop, assignments and little origami cranes and dragons. He had a weird assortment of puzzle books but only two jigsaw puzzles, one of which was spread out on his inside coffee table, a glue gun next to it.

Todoroki seemed to like traditional things. He didn’t own a TV from what Izuku could see, and his walls were bare. Nothing like Izuku’s weird superhero obsession and the posters that covered his walls. Izuku felt like a little kid in a grown man’s body in Shouto’s apartment.

“Why did-... Why did you move to the city?” Izuku manages, resting his wrist on the side of his bowl. Todoroki glances back at him before visibly swallowing.

“To escape,” he replies. “The family member that wanted me to do medicine isn’t around anymore. I… I don’t think she would want to see me.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Izuku knows he’s pushing but Todoroki looks so vulnerable and if Izuku leaves him now, he doesn’t think he’d be able to come back.

Todoroki inhales sharply, but he doesn’t seem closed off. “She’d only see what I don’t want her to.”

“I-If she really loves you, I think she- she can learn to look past it.”

Todoroki looks back at Izuku and sits up on his knees. “Look at my scar,” he almost demands and Izuku does.

“Touch it,” Todoroki says and Izuku swallows. “I’m serious. Give me your hand.”

Izuku feels numb as Todoroki’s fingers wrap around his wrist, easing his hand up to his cheek. Todoroki seems to wince, like he was sure Izuku would pull away.

Izuku’s freckled hands look so different to Todoroki’s scarred face but Izuku doesn’t have it in him to pull away. He doesn’t think he wants to pull away. His cheek is warm, his mismatched eyes searching Izuku’s face, but Izuku doesn’t know what he’s looking for.

“What do you feel, Midoriya?” Todoroki asks, his hand still on his wrist. His brow his furrowed, more than Izuku has ever seen it before. His eyes are just that fraction wider, and Izuku wonders who made him feel this way. “I’ve had this scar since I was young. It’s from her, but I don’t blame her for it. She saw him. Everyone does.”

Izuku blinks at him, feeling his eyes well up. His hand drops from Todoroki’s face to pull him into a hug. Todoroki’s eyes widen but he doesn’t pull away, only hesitantly rubbing Izuku’s back.

“I-I don’t see that,” Izuku whispers. “I d-don’t see him, whoever he is. I only see Todoroki-kun. T-The Todoroki Shouto I met with a succulent obsession.”

Todoroki’s hands still on his back before they tighten around him. He buries his head into Izuku’s shoulder and the boy accepts it, his freckled hands threading through pure white and blood red hair. It’s a sight to see, bicoloured hair slipping through his decorated fingers.

“Find her,” Izuku whispers, eyes on his hand. “That scar was a long time ago. I’m sure- positive- that she still l-loves you.”

Todoroki nods into his shoulder, pulling away. Izuku studies him; takes in his mismatched eyes and hair, his scar, the light freckles of the bridge of his nose, his pale skin. Everything feels so Todoroki-kun. Izuku’s heart swells at the thought of Todoroki and he feels calm.

Todoroki blinks at him before dropping his head, a light chuckle coming from his lips. “Thank you, Midoriya,” he says quietly. “I seem to be thanking you a lot these days.” His eyes are on his own hand.

“It’s okay,” Izuku breathes, patting Todoroki’s hand that’s still on his thigh. It feels extremely hot but Izuku doesn’t mind. Todoroki always gave him a warm feeling.

“I’ll see you once I’m back.”

Shouto looks down at Midoriya who smiles up at him. His hair is the same as it was when he was cracking the eggs into the bowl for the katsudon. Shouto likes it. He wonders how thick Midoriya’s hair actually is, if that’s all the hair the boy can tie back.

Midoriya nods, stifling a yawn with his hand. “Good luck, Todoroki-kun,” he says through his yawn, blinking. “I h-hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“So do I,” he responds. Before Midoriya can close his door, Shouto reaches out and pulls him into his chest. Midoriya stiffens but eases into his hold, slipping his arms between Shouto’s back and his backpack.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Shouto says, pulling away. Midoriya nods, his cheeks red and a small smile on his lips. He waves to Shouto as he shoves his hands into his pockets, heading for the stairs. He turns back before he heads down, returning the wave with a little more than a millimetre smile.

The hospital is eerie.

It doesn’t feel like regular hospitals that Shouto’s been too. He hates the smell of hospitals, but this one smells fine. He can’t stand the constant beeping of machines, but it doesn’t seem to be that loud here. The receptionist is nice, her brown hair bobbing as she walks to where Shouto had requested to go. The receptionists usually hate him, so he’s surprised.

“Here we are, Todoroki-kun,” she smiles, opening the door. He nods to her, managing a small smile before stepping into the room.

Todoroki-san is scrolled across the door and Shouto swallows. The receptionist gives him one final smile before closing the door, leaving Shouto to look at the woman sitting in the chair by the window.

She turns, tucking her white hair behind her ear and meets his eyes. Shouto takes a sharp breath. She smiles, the same smile he loved all those years ago, and Shouto rushes towards her, sliding on his knees to her chair.

“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come,” she says quietly, but she doesn’t sound hurt. Her hand reaches up under his hair and her thumb swipes over his scar. “My little boy…”

Shouto’s cheeks feel wet but he doesn’t feel himself crying. His eyes are clouded but he can still see his mother, smiling down at him with her own tear stained cheeks.

Shouto has recently been doing a lot of things that aren’t “Shouto”. Giving smiles, laughing occasionally, and most of all, crying.

Shouto lowers his head into his mother’s lap and she laughs breathlessly as he cries, her hands threading through his hair like Midoriya’s had done a few days before. He’s not sure how long he cries for, how long he’s mother holds him.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathes eventually and Shouto scowls. She’s not the one that should be apologising. He was the one that had taken so long to see her.

“I love you,” his mother whispers. “I love you so much, Shouto-kun.”

“I-I love you, t-too,” Shouto stutters out, feeling himself smile widely. His mother’s lips press against his hair and he attempts to calm himself.

They talk.

There’s nothing else for them to do besides talk, honestly. That, and do a jigsaw puzzle his mother has been saving especially for him, just like they always did when he was young. He’s missed this; he’s missed his mother telling him what goes where and now he can figure it out for himself but he still doesn’t mind her finger directing him when he’s joined pieces together, helping stick them down.

“How are you, Shouto?” she asks, gluing down a corner piece. Shouto presses another piece to connect it, his mother lifting it and squeezing some hot glue out.

“I’m well,” he responds. “I made a friend recently.”

“Oh?” Her smile is soft. “And how are they treating you?”

“Very good,” Shouto replies, looking up at her. “He’s very sweet.”

His mother smiling knowingly. He frowns at her but her smile only grows. “A mother knows,” she says with a small smirk and Shouto’s frown deepens.

“Knows what?” he asks and she reaches out, taking his hand. She looks at him, her eyes bright before responding.

“Your cheeks are pink,” is all she says before returning to her puzzle, leaving Shouto to stare at her. She laughs, covering her mouth. “It’s cute, Shouto. I wouldn’t stress over it. I think he’s a good influence.”

Shouto blinks before shaking his head, taking the glue gun and sticking down another piece. His mother has always done this, lightly teasing with as Shouto begins to get frustrated.

“And how are you, mother?” Shouto asks and she smiles again. “Are you well?”

“I’m a lot better since you’re here,” she replies, smirking at his flushed cheeks. “You’ve grown so much, my son. But you’re still the same Shouto I fell in love with. It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m glad I could see you too,” Shouto says, gluing down another piece. His eyes feel puffy, but he’s done enough crying for his lifetime. He sighs, shaking his head and spends the day finishing off the jig saw puzzle.

“It was good.”

Izuku glances over his shoulder, cleaning the bowl he had been using. “Y-Your mother?”

Todoroki sits on his couch, a hand thrown over his eyes. “She… She was well. It was good to see her like that.”

“Did- Did you find what you were looking for?” he asks and Todoroki huffs a laugh.

“Yes, I did,” Todoroki responds. “I told her about you.”

Izuku drops the bowl, quickly catching it but not before he splashes water on himself. He gasps and Todoroki sits up in alarm.

“Damn it,” Izuku growls, rinsing off the bowl and placing it on the drying rack. He stands rigid when he sees Todoroki’s hand on his, taking the bowl from him and beginning to dry it.

“Th-Thank you,” Izuku mumbles, averting his eyes. “You… You told your m-mother about me?”

“Yes,” Todoroki replies. “I hope you don’t mind. She said you seemed like a good influence and I think she’s right.”

Izuku swallows. “It-It’s okay. I think y-you are too.” He looks up and meets Todoroki’s eyes, feeling himself fall. He must have swayed slightly, because Todoroki’s hands ends up on the small of his back as he steadies himself.

“I’m okay,” Izuku says, shivering involuntarily. “Thank you.” For once he wasn’t stuttering.

“It’s fine,” Todoroki says quietly, putting the bowl away. He walks away, letting Izuku follow him out to the balcony. He looks at his own balcony and Izuku sees the real smile.

“You admired me that day,” Todoroki says, looking back at him. Izuku nods, his cheeks pink. Todoroki’s hands drop by his sides and he sighs.

“Thank you for talking to me that day,” he says. He leans on the railing, looking out over the city. Izuku joins him and Todoroki looks at him before huffing a short laugh.

“That was the first time I ever heard you stutter,” Todoroki tells him, a smile on his lips. “And I think it’s the only time I’ve heard you stutter that much.”

“I-It’s a habit,” Izuku replies, rubbing his face. “You- You confronted me and- and I got scared.”

“You’re the one that fell asleep on your balcony,” Todoroki responds, an obvious tease. Izuku purses his lips.

“You did it first…” he replies but it’s weak and he smiles half way through. Todoroki smiles too, never as wide as Izuku’s but just as bright for it to be Todoroki-kun standard.

“I’m glad you spoke to me,” Todoroki says. “You fell over your chair and I thought it was cute.”

Izuku blinks at him, feeling his heart pump and he’s half convinced that his cheeks are on fire. He looks down at his hands leaning on the railing, clasped together as Todoroki looks up at the sky.

Izuku shivers, screwing his eyes shut. “I-I thought that you- you must of been what fairy tales talk about when- when they t-talk about prince charming.”

Todoroki drops his head with a sigh. “Prince charming?” he replies and Izuku’s hands tighten on the railing.

“I’m not lying!” Izuku exclaims. Todoroki turns to him and whatever explanation Izuku had disappears when Todoroki looks at him. Izuku swallows as Todoroki inches closer to him.

“Thank you for pushing me,” Todoroki whispers. “To see her.” Izuku feels himself sway again and Todoroki catches him, hand on the small of his back again.

Izuku looks up at him and feels his world flip. The amount of warmth in Todoroki’s eyes fills Izuku head with colours as Todoroki pulls him closer. His eyes are searching Izuku’s face that he’s pretty sure has combusted at this point.

“Do I make you nervous, Midoriya?” he asks and Izuku’s eyes widen.

“I’m- I’m just nervous b-by nature,” Izuku responds. “It’s never y-you, Todoroki-kun.”

Todoroki blinks at him and for a few moments they only stare at each other. Todoroki opens his mouth and sighs.

“You’re… you mean a lot to me, Midoriya,” Todoroki says. “Thank you for cooking me mushroom Takikomi Gohan. For helping me with the crossword.”

“I s-should be thanking you,” Izuku replies, looking up at him. “For the k-katsudon. And the p-poem material.”

Todoroki’s smile is back, and Izuku smiles back. His freckled hand rests on Todoroki’s hoodie, holding it firmly in hopes of grounding himself. He laughs nervously, resting his forehead against Todoroki’s chest.

Izuku has read enough fairy tales to know where this is going. He’s read enough romantic literature, he just never thought it’d ever happen to him. Todoroki’s hands on his back feel hot but Izuku doesn’t mind.

“Midoriya, I-“

“It’s okay.”

Izuku looks up at Todoroki who looks slightly shocked, his eyes a fraction wider just like Izuku has observed. Izuku smiles the biggest smile he can muster and Todoroki’s shoulders slump.

“Can I kiss you?” Todoroki asks hesitantly and Izuku nods, not trusting his voice.

His grip loosens on Todoroki’s hoodie when Todoroki’s lips press against his. It tightens again when he pulls Todoroki impossibly closer to him. His toes curl, along with his fingers around Todoroki’s hoodie and it feels so Todoroki-kun.

Izuku’s hand tangles in Todoroki’s hair, smoothing it down over his scar. Todoroki’s hands rest on his skin underneath his shirt and Izuku hums, blinking up at him when he pulls away. His lips tingle and so do his cheeks when Todoroki’s thumb is stroking over them.

“Y-You have to do that more,” Izuku breathes. Todoroki’s eyes soften before he kisses him again and Izuku feels his heart soar when Todoroki smiles into the kiss.

His throne of succulents grows. Izuku has a habit of spoiling him with different plants recently. When they sit on their balconies, Shouto sits in his throne, smiling at Izuku as he talks about his classes.

Izuku says with no shame that he wrote a poem about Shouto and his throne, smiling widely as Shouto leans over the railing, kissing him firmly. Izuku likes to squish his cheeks as he kisses him, usually tipping his foot up like a lovestruck girl in a romcom.

It seems so them. Todoroki and Midoriya, Shouto and Izuku. They fit together like the jigsaw puzzles and crosswords Shouto loves. He gave Izuku a puzzle, and it sits above his couch on display. Shouto and Izuku work together, filling each other’s lives with things that they’re missing.

Izuku says I love you first, sputtering that Shouto doesn’t have to say it so soon but Shouto folds, pulling him in and kissing him firmly, whispering the words all over his freckled skin as Izuku laughs.

It’s them, hopelessly in love. They’re young and free, in love and maybe reckless. But it’s them. Shouto and Izuku. They don’t care as long as they’re together.

“Starlight,” Izuku says and Shouto nods, filling in the crossword. His head is on his shoulder and Shouto feels calm. His skin is electric where ever Izuku touches and Shouto loves it.

Izuku pokes his hand, where a freckle lies between his knuckle. He always points out Shouto’s freckles, knowing that Shouto can never do it back considering that freckles decorate the entirety of Izuku’s body. He finds that he doesn’t mind, just like how he doesn’t mind when Izuku and his mother both tease him as Shouto rolls his eyes, a small smile on his lips.

He learns that the receptionist’s name is Uraraka. Izuku and her quickly became friends and Shouto realised that Uraraka is weirdly strong. She almost broke his hand when she shook it in formal greeting.

His mother loves Izuku almost as much as Shouto, but Shouto has stated many times that Izuku’s visits would be limited. He saw how quickly his mother and his boyfriend ganged up on him when they met. He’s not going through that again.

They still have different courses, but sometimes Shouto walks home with Izuku to his apartment. They eat dinner together, talk, laugh, smile before falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Shouto loves this the most. He’s curled around Izuku’s figure, Izuku’s back pressed against his chest. Izuku would talk, Shouto replying with low hums.

Izuku would eventually roll over, kissing Shouto’s jaw before his lips. “Goodnight, Shouto-kun.”

Shouto would smile at him, kissing him again. “Goodnight, Izuku.”

“I love you,” Izuku smiles, rolling back over. Shouto pulls him close to his chest, kissing the nape of his neck.

“‘Love you too,” Shouto mumbles against his neck, feeling Izuku flush.

If Shouto can fall asleep with Izuku next to him, his freckled hand over his, he can be happy.

As long as he’s with Izuku, he thinks he can be happy forever.