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Dust coated their lungs. The shopping district was a ruin of concrete and wire. Katsuki had been screaming Shouto’s name for ten minutes. His throat was raw. His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird. Every instinct told him to find that red-and-white hair in the wreckage.
When he saw the hair beneath a concrete slab, Katsuki surged forward. He blasted the debris aside. Air rippled around his palms. He dropped to his knees, gravel biting into his skin. His hands shook as he reached into the gap.
"Shouto! Open your eyes. Don't quit on me, you bastard."
Shouto’s eyelids fluttered. Katsuki’s nerves frayed. Shouto looked at him. He was covered in soot, his suit torn, eyes wide and desperate. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows.
Shouto let out a shaky sigh. His expression softened.
"Oh," he whispered. His voice sounded disconnected. "I must have died. I didn't know angels could look so fierce. Is this where you have been waiting for me?"
Katsuki froze. He hovered his hands over Shouto, careful not to press on his injuries.
"Angel? Hit the brakes. You have a head wound and you're talking nonsense. Look at me. How many fingers?"
Shouto ignored the fingers. He reached up, his movements slow. He brushed a smudge of dirt from Katsuki’s cheek. His thumb lingered, tracing Katsuki’s jaw.
"It doesn't matter. The numbers, the pain. None of it matters. As long as I am with you. How long have we been together? It feels like lifetimes of waiting are ending."
Katsuki felt a chill. He pulled Shouto’s hand away. His face twisted into a mask of aggressive confusion. His neck burned.
"Together? Listen. The quirk hit you harder than I thought. We aren't anything like that. You’re concussed."
Shouto’s smile flickered. A shadow crossed his face. "What do you mean? You’re holding my hand. You look at me as if the world stopped when you found me."
"We’re partners," Katsuki blurted. His voice cracked. "We went to UA together. We’ve known each other since we were fifteen. We’re friends. Barely. We just argue about patrols. There is no 'us,' you idiot. Get your head straight."
The disappointment on Shouto’s face was sharp. He looked at his hand, then back at Katsuki. His lip trembled. He looked vulnerable.
"Friends?" Shouto repeated. "Just partners? But I can feel it. It’s in my marrow. When I look at you, my soul feels like it has found home. How can we be just friends when everything else feels small?"
"Because that’s reality." Katsuki snapped. He looked away from Shouto’s eyes—at the sky, the rubble, his own shaking hands. "Get up. The ambulance is two blocks over. You need a scan. Stop looking at me like that."
Katsuki tried to hoist him up, but Shouto went dead weight. He gripped Katsuki’s sleeve. His eyes narrowed with a stubborn intensity.
"I’m not going," Shouto stated.
"You’re bleeding and hallucinating. Move."
"If you aren't mine, I have no reason to trust those medics," Shouto argued. "I won't leave your side. If we’re only friends, prove it. Don't abandon me now. If you walk away, you’re not a friend. You’re a stranger."
The Chief approached while looking exhausted. He saw the Number Two Hero looking like a kicked puppy and the Number Three Hero looking ready to level the block to hide his red ears.
"Bakugo," the Chief sighed. "The hospitals are overflowing. If he refuses the medics, I don't have the men to force him. Take him to the clinic on the edge of the ward. Actually, just watch him for twenty-four hours. If he won't go without you, you’re his shadow until this quirk wears off."
Katsuki’s jaw dropped. "You want me to babysit? Look at him! He’s staring at me like I’m the only meal he’s had in a year."
"He’s a national asset with a scrambled brain," the Chief replied, turning away. "Take him home. Keep him safe. Try not to let him propose more than once an hour. That’s an order."
They walked toward the transport. Shouto hovered close, shoulders brushing Katsuki’s with every step.
"If we aren't dating," Shouto mused, watching the pulse in Katsuki’s neck, "I have been wasting my life. I’ll fix that today. I’ll start with your favorite meal. I want to know everything."
"There is nothing to fix! Stop asking!" Katsuki yelled. His ears flamed red.
"I’ll court you," Shouto decided. His voice was calm and resolute. "By sunset tomorrow, I will convince you that being friends is the greatest mistake we’ve ever made."
Katsuki groaned and buried his face in his hand. "I hate magic quirks. I’m going to kill the villain who did this."
"I love it," Shouto countered softly. He smiled. "It gave me the eyes to finally see you."
* * *
The café was tucked away from the main battle, but the room was not quiet. Shouto had insisted they stop and get food. He then ordered every item on the menu with a high spice rating.
Katsuki sat across from him with his chin in his hand. He snorted in amusement as he watched Shouto arrange the plates of curry and spicy buns. It looked like he was offering gold to a dragon.
"You are ridiculous," Katsuki said. His eyes crinkled at the corners. "I am the one watching you, and you are trying to bankrupt yourself on chili peppers."
"It is a small price for your favor," Shouto replied. He was so serious that Katsuki had to look away to hide his grin.
Suddenly, Shouto froze. His chopsticks clattered on the plate. His face turned pale, and panic crossed his features. He gasped, his eyes wide.
"Katsuki?" he breathed, his voice trembling. "Could it be? Please, tell me I am not too late."
Katsuki sat up and reached for his capture tape. "Shou? What is wrong? Are you dizzy? Is the quirk hitting you again?" He leaned in, his brow furrowed with concern. "Talk to me. What is the matter?"
Shouto stared at him. He looked devastated, as if someone had told him the sun would never rise. "Please, tell me I am not too late," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Tell me you do not have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Or any other friends besides me. You do not have a husband, do you?"
Katsuki’s jaw dropped. The concern in his chest turned into a heat that felt like his suit was melting.
"I want to be your husband," Shouto declared, his voice rising. "I will marry you tonight. I will go to the courthouse right now and—"
WHAP.
Katsuki’s palm slammed over Shouto’s mouth. The café went silent. The staff stopped what they were doing, and customers leaned over their booths, their faces turning pink.
"Shut up," Katsuki hissed, his face red. He could feel Shouto’s warm breath against his palm. The idiot was still trying to talk, and his muffled sounds clearly meant he was trying to say he loved him.
"You are making a scene, you moron," Katsuki whispered. He looked around at the crowd. "I do not have a husband. I do not have a boyfriend. I have plenty of other friends, but that is not your business."
Shouto pulled Katsuki’s hand down just enough to speak. His eyes were shining with devotion. "So there is an opening?"
"There is no opening. There is a vacancy in your brain where your common sense used to be." Katsuki hauled Shouto up by the collar and tossed money on the table. "We are going to your apartment. Now. Before you try to buy me a ring at a vending machine."
Ten minutes later, they burst into Shouto’s apartment. Shouto searched the shelves, his hands moving fast. He was looking for proof of their life together. He scanned the clean surfaces, and his heart sank.
"There are no photos," Shouto whispered. He stood in the middle of the room and looked at a plant on the windowsill. "Katsuki, if we are friends, why do I not have a single picture of you? Why is my life so empty of your face?" He turned to Katsuki and looked hurt. "Was I a bad friend to you?"
Katsuki leaned against the doorframe. His amusement faded into a strange tightness in his chest. Seeing Shouto upset over the lack of Katsuki in his life affected him in a way he was not prepared for.
"You were not a bad friend," Katsuki said softly. "You are just Shouto. We see each other at work. We just did not think we needed pictures."
Shouto stepped close, invading his space in an earnest way. "I need them. I want to see you even when I am sleeping. If I get my memories back and I have not asked you out, I will be disappointed in myself."
Katsuki looked up and saw the honesty in Shouto’s eyes. He did not roll his eyes. He just sighed. "Well, you are asking me now, are you not?"
Shouto’s fingers fumbled as he navigated to his camera app, his brow furrowed with the intense concentration of a man attempting to disarm a bomb. He held the phone out at an awkward angle, trying to frame them both in the glass.
"I... I don't really know how to do this," he admitted, his voice tight. "Stay still, Katsuki. Please."
Katsuki rolled his eyes, but he leaned in closer anyway, his shoulder brushing against Shouto’s bicep. He didn't bother to fix his hair or hide his scowl, but he caught Shouto’s eye just long enough to see the man's genuine hope.
"Just press the damn button, half-and-half," Katsuki muttered, though his hand came up to steady Shouto’s shaking wrist.
The shutter clicked. Once. Twice. Then, Shouto held the phone like a treasure, his hands trembling as he stared at the screen. The photo was simple. It showed the two of them standing in the living room, Katsuki looking annoyed, and Shouto wearing a look of goofy triumph. As Shouto stared, a deep red climbed to the tips of his ears. His cheeks felt hot, a sign of his joy at having a digital version of Katsuki to keep.
Katsuki watched him from the counter. For the first time, he did not bark an insult. He found Shouto’s reaction, vibrating with bashfulness, to be cute. It was a side of the hero he had never seen. He looked soft and undone by a single selfie.
"You are going to burn a hole in that screen," Katsuki said. His voice was quiet and lacked any bite.
Shouto looked up, his face still red. "I cannot believe I did not have this before. Katsuki, tell me the truth. What was our friendship really like? If I felt this way, why did I not say anything? Why was my life so empty of you?"
Katsuki looked at his hands. "We were kids in a war. After that, we found our way back to each other as pros. We became partners because we work better together. But you never showed interest like this. You were always just… Todoroki. Professional. Reliable. Quiet."
Shouto’s heart sank. He walked over to the counter. "I was a fool. I wasted years being professional when I could have been loving you."
Katsuki reached out and gave Shouto’s arm a squeeze. "Hey. Do not beat yourself up. You have a scrambled brain right now. I know this is just the quirk talking, the courtship and the husband talk. I am not going to hold it against you when you wake up tomorrow and find me annoying again."
Shouto’s brow furrowed. He did not pull away. He stepped closer until their chests touched.
"You think this is the quirk?" Shouto asked. His voice was low. "Katsuki, look at me. The quirk did not invent these feelings. It just broke the lock on the door where I was hiding them. My brain is confused, but my heart is certain."
He took Katsuki’s hand and pressed it flat against his chest, over his fast heart.
"Do you feel that?" Shouto whispered. His eyes searched Katsuki’s with sincerity. "That is not a work partner’s heart. That is a man who is realizing he has been in love with his best friend for a decade. Please, do not dismiss me just because I am brave enough to be a fool for you."
Katsuki stared at him and his breath hitched. He could feel the heavy beat under his palm. He realized that when the quirk wore off, he might actually miss the man who looked at him like he was the only thing that mattered.
The balcony air was cool, but Shouto sat close and acted like a heater. He was not looking at the city. He was looking at Katsuki, trying to memorize his face.
"The sports festival," Shouto began. "I used to think I was just obsessed with surpassing you. But looking back, I remember the air when you were near. It was charged. I did not want to beat you, Katsuki. I wanted you to notice me."
Katsuki leaned against the railing and looked skeptical. "Shouto, you were frozen and trying to blast me out of the ring. That is competitive rivalry."
"Is it?" Shouto countered. "Then why did I keep that training shirt? The one you tore during our sparring match? I told myself it was a reminder to get faster, but I have kept it for years. I just wanted a piece of you to keep."
Katsuki’s jaw tightened. A memory flickered. He remembered a late night in the dorms when Shouto brought him tea without being asked. He remembered the way Shouto always chose the seat behind him on the bus.
"And the mission in the Nabu islands," Shouto continued. "When we were exhausted, I told you my hand was cold so I could regulate my temperature. I did not. I just wanted to see if you would hold my hand back. You did, for three seconds, before you told me to die. Those were the best three seconds of my year."
Katsuki’s heart gave a thud. He remembered thinking Todoroki was being weirdly clingy, but he had dismissed it as shock. Now, seeing the sincerity, the pieces clicked into a clear picture.
"Wait," Katsuki whispered. "The shared patrols. You always signed up for my shifts. And that time you bought that expensive curry and accidentally bought two?"
Shouto nodded, a sad smile on his lips. "I was not very good at it, was I? I thought if I stayed near you, it would be enough. But tonight has shown me that being near is not enough."
Katsuki felt dizzy. All those silent stares, the way Shouto defended his decisions, the quiet good lucks before every raid—it was not work behavior. It was a decade of yearning.
"You have been doing this for years?" Katsuki’s voice was a breath. He saw the lonely boy who had been waiting for a spark Katsuki had been holding the entire time.
"I have," Shouto said. He tucked a strand of hair behind Katsuki’s ear. "Even if I forget this tomorrow, please, do not let me go back to being just Todoroki. Don't let me stay in the cold."
Katsuki swallowed hard, his face flushing with guilt and affection. He grabbed Shouto’s hand. He locked his fingers with his.
"You are a damn idiot," Katsuki rasped, his eyes shimmering. "A stupid, whipped idiot."
Shouto did not flinch. He leaned into the contact. His thumb traced Katsuki’s knuckles with a tenderness more dangerous than any explosion. "Perhaps. But I am an idiot who has found his North Star."
Below them, city lights flickered, but they did not matter as much as the silence between them. Katsuki looked at their joined hands and then at Shouto’s face, which held a certainty that made his chest ache.
"You realize," Katsuki said, his voice a low growl, "that if you wake up tomorrow and do not remember this, if you give me that blank Number Two Hero stare, I am going to lose my mind. I am going to drag you to a specialist and have them fix your brain myself."
Shouto smiled. "Then you will have to make sure I do not forget. You will have to remind me. Every day."
Katsuki huffed, though his cheeks were still burning. He tugged at their hands and pulled Shouto closer. "You are really going to hold me to this? You are going to spend twenty-four hours being an insufferable romantic, and then expect me to deal with it when the fog clears?"
"I expect," Shouto murmured, "that you will realize the truth just as I have. The quirk was the catalyst. We have been surviving together for years. That was not just work. That was us, gravitating toward each other because we were the only two people who could handle the heat."
Katsuki looked at him and saw the man behind the hero. He saw the scars and the capacity for love that Shouto had spent a decade burying. He realized he had not just been working with Shouto. He had been anchored by him. The only reason he had kept his temper in check, the only reason he had pushed himself, was because Shouto was always there.
"You are a menace," Katsuki muttered, but he did not pull away. "Buying curry, taking selfies, talking about being a husband. You are trying to ruin my reputation, are you not?"
"I am trying to build a future," Shouto corrected softly. He moved his other hand toward Katsuki’s waist. He asked without speaking. When Katsuki leaned in, Shouto rested his hand there. "I have spent so much time being the perfect hero. I think it is time I allowed myself to be the man who wants you."
Katsuki’s breath hitched. His defensive posturing dissolved. "You are a damn problem, Todoroki," he whispered.
"But I am your problem," Shouto replied.
He leaned forward, and his forehead rested against Katsuki’s. The world narrowed to their breathing. For the first time, Katsuki did not feel the need to shout. He did not need to win or lead.
He just closed his eyes, let his shoulders drop, and allowed himself to be caught.
"Twenty-four hours," Katsuki whispered, his voice thick with hope. "You have twenty-four hours to prove that this is not just a fever dream, half-and-half."
Shouto’s hand tightened on his waist, and he pulled him against his chest. "I only need one," he promised. "And if that is not enough, I have a lifetime."
* * *
The morning sun came through the balcony glass. It cast long shadows across the messy sheets on Shouto’s bed. As the last bit of the quirk’s hold faded, Shouto did not bolt upright in a panic. He did not look for a medical excuse, and he did not hide under the covers.
He lay still and stared at the dust motes in the light. He felt the weight of years of secrets lifting from his chest. It was like taking off heavy armor. He turned his head slowly. Katsuki was sitting on the edge of the mattress. He was still wearing his hero pants and undershirt from the day before. The fabric was wrinkled. He looked like he had not slept at all. His shoulders were hunched, and his hands were clenched in his lap. The usual restless energy was gone, replaced by a tension that made him look younger.
"You're back," Katsuki said. His voice was raspy. He stared at the floor and would not meet Shouto’s eyes. "I can tell by your breathing. The fog is gone."
"It is," Shouto said. His voice was steady and clear.
He sat up and watched Katsuki’s back. He reached out. His hand was steady, and he cupped the back of Katsuki’s neck. He turned him and brushed a strand of hair aside to cup his cheek.
Katsuki flinched, but then he did something that made Shouto’s heart stop. He let out a shaky breath, dropped his shoulders, and leaned into the touch. His eyes closed. His cheeks were red, and his lip trembled.
"Shouto," Katsuki’s voice cracked. "Everything you said yesterday—about our time at UA, about the pining, about the shirts and the shifts—do you remember it?"
"Every word," Shouto replied. He looked at Katsuki with intensity. "I meant every word. I am not blaming the quirk. It was not a delusion. It was the truth finally finding a voice."
Katsuki opened his eyes. They were filled with tears. "But you are the Number Two Hero. You are supposed to be..."
"I am supposed to be yours," Shouto interrupted. He leaned in until their foreheads rested against each other. "I spent ten years being composed while my heart was shattering every time you looked at someone else. I am tired of being quiet, Katsuki. I love you. Not because of a quirk, but because you are the only person who ever truly saw me. I was just too terrified to ask if you liked what you saw."
Katsuki let out a sob. He gripped Shouto’s wrists as if he were a ghost who might vanish.
"You are a moron," Katsuki gasped. His forehead bumped against Shouto's. "I have been waiting for you to say something for years. I thought I was the only one feeling it, and I hated myself for it."
Shouto laughed, his own eyes stinging. "Then we are both idiots."
Katsuki pulled back. His face was a mess of tears and embarrassment, but he smiled. "Fine. But if you mention the 'angel' thing in public again, I am going to kill you."
"I make no promises," Shouto murmured, and he closed the distance between them.
Their first official date was at the small ramen shop they had gone to for years as partners. It was noisy, their glasses fogged up, and the stools were uncomfortable, but the mood had shifted.
Shouto was trying to be normal. He did not recite poetry, but Katsuki noticed the patterns. Shouto did not just pass the napkins; he knew exactly when Katsuki needed one. He sat across from him and angled his entire body toward Katsuki. He did not look at the television. His gaze stayed fixed on Katsuki with an intensity that felt like a protective shield.
When the spicy miso arrived, Shouto slid his water glass toward Katsuki and pulled the ginger closer.
Katsuki stopped eating. He looked at the ginger, then the water, and then at Shouto. Shouto was watching him with a readiness to serve that made Katsuki’s throat tight.
The quirk did not change him, Katsuki realized. It just pulled back the curtain Shouto had kept drawn for a decade. Everything Shouto had done during that week—the shielding, the need to provide—was the blueprint of his heart. He had spent years wanting to give Katsuki his attention and his care.
"What is wrong?" Shouto asked. His brow furrowed in concern. "Is it too spicy? I can ask them for more broth—"
"No," Katsuki interrupted. His voice was thick. He set his chopsticks down and reached across the table to grab Shouto’s hand. He did not care who saw. "It is fine. You are really doing this, are you not? You are not going back to being just Todoroki?"
Shouto squeezed Katsuki’s hand back. He traced a circle over Katsuki’s knuckles.
"I told you, Katsuki. I am tired of being quiet," Shouto said. "I spent a week showing you what I wanted our life to look like because I did not know if I had the courage to say it. I intend to spend the rest of our lives making sure it stays that way. If you will have me."
Katsuki looked at their joined hands. He thought about the years of silent pining and the decade of partnership that had been hidden devotion. He felt a swell of fierce love.
"I will have you, you damn half-and-half sap," Katsuki rasped, finally looking up with a wobbly smirk. "But you are still paying for the ramen. And every meal for the next month."
Shouto laughed. "I would not have it any other way."
As they walked out into the night, Shouto slid his arm around Katsuki’s waist. He pulled him close, and Katsuki did not shove him away. He leaned into him, realizing that while a quirk might have started the fire, the warmth they had now was theirs.
* * *
It was the one-year anniversary of the "Quirk Incident," and Katsuki was in a foul mood.
The morning had started with a miserable, drizzling rain that turned the city a dull, depressing grey. They were back at the municipal park with the small waterfall—a place that usually felt peaceful, but today just seemed like a soggy, annoying detour. Shouto had dragged him out under the thin excuse of a "mandatory endurance walk" for hero training. Katsuki was stomping through the mud, his hood pulled low, boots squelching with every step. He spent the whole time grumbling about how Shouto was taking the scenic route for no reason instead of the paved path that would have kept their feet dry.
"Shou, I'm serious! My boots are trashed, I'm itchy, and if this overlook isn't amazing, I'm blasting us home," Katsuki barked, kicking a mud-caked stone into the stream.
Shouto walked a few paces ahead without looking back. He seemed focused, his hands deep in his pockets. He stepped over slippery roots with a strange, deliberate grace. "Just a few more steps, Katsuki. I promise it’s worth it."
They rounded the final bend to the waterfall. The mist was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, turning the air into a grey curtain. Shouto stopped at the edge of the rocky pool—the exact spot where, a year ago, he had realized he was in love with Katsuki.
"Okay, we're here. We're standing in the rain. Water is falling, rocks are wet, and I'm pretty sure I have trench foot," Katsuki huffed, wiping a cold drop of rain off his nose. "Can we go find ramen now? My patience is at zero."
Shouto turned around. He didn't have the dazed look of a year ago. His eyes were sharp, clear, and focused in a way that made Katsuki’s breath hitch.
"I remember this spot," Shouto said softly. "I remember standing here and thinking the world had reset itself just to give me a chance to be with you. I remember how hollow I felt when I realized you just thought we were friends."
Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat. He felt a familiar heat in his chest—a mix of embarrassment and a hopeful fluttering he still wasn't used to.
"Yeah, well, you were a head-case that day, you moron. Don't bring up the angel speech, I'm warning you—"
"I’m not an angel, Katsuki," Shouto interrupted, taking a step through the mud. "And I know now the world didn't reset for us. I earned my place beside you through ten years of work, blood, and courting."
Shouto reached into his coat pocket. Katsuki froze. He watched as Shouto dropped to one knee, ignoring the icy mud soaking his trousers.
"Last year, I asked you to marry me because I was desperate and confused," Shouto said, his voice cutting through the noise of the falls. He pulled out a small velvet box and flipped it open. Inside sat a gold band with a small ruby and a pale blue sapphire sitting perfectly next to it. "This year, I’m asking you again because I am the most clear-headed I have ever been."
Katsuki’s jaw dropped. The tough-guy scowl shattered instantly, leaving him wide-eyed and shivering.
"Shou... you planned this? The walk was just—"
"A ruse," Shouto admitted with a small, smug smile. "I wanted to make sure that the next time I asked for your hand, I did it without a quirk as an excuse. I want to be your husband, Katsuki. Not because of a spell, but because every memory I have, from our first sparring match to this freezing second, is better because you're in it."
Katsuki let out a shaky, watery laugh. He looked at the ring, then at the man who had loved him in the shadows for a decade and in the sunshine for a year.
"You're such a calculated, romantic brat," Katsuki choked out. He stepped forward and grabbed Shouto by the collar, hauling him up before he could finish. He didn't wait for the ring. He crashed his lips against Shouto’s in a messy, desperate kiss that tasted like rain and salt.
"Is that a yes?" Shouto murmured against his mouth, his arms winding tightly around Katsuki’s waist.
"It’s a 'shut up and put the ring on me before I change my mind,'" Katsuki rasped, burying his face in Shouto’s neck, his ears turning a satisfied red.
Shouto slid the ring onto Katsuki’s finger. As he looked at his fiancé, he realized he finally had everything he’d glimpsed in that magical fog. This time, he knew he was never going to forget a single second of it.
* * *
The wedding reception was elegant, but it was loud. The ballroom was full of white silk and candles. The air smelled like lilies and the buzzing, excited energy of a hundred different quirks. Half the room was filled with pro-heroes in stiff suits. The other half was Class 1-A, who were already a few drinks in and cheering every time the grooms exchanged a look. A private language of tiny nods and interlaced fingers that no one else in the room could quite decode.
The sharp clink of a glass silenced the room. Shouto stood up. He wore a dark charcoal suit that looked good against the white lily on his lapel. Beside him, Katsuki wore a custom white suit. He had fought the outfit choice for weeks until Shouto gave him a soft look, and Katsuki caved in a second. Katsuki sat there picking at the tablecloth. His ears were a steady shade of pink.
"I am not much for public speaking," Shouto began. His voice was warm and reached every corner of the hall. "But most of you remember the week last year where I apparently would not stop talking."
The crowd laughed. Mina let out a loud whistle from the back of the room.
"I spent ten years in the quiet," Shouto continued. He looked at Katsuki, who was staring at his champagne glass. "I thought loving Katsuki meant being his pillar. Someone who had to be solid, unmoving, and silent. I thought if I showed too much of what I felt, I would ruin the bridge between us. Then, a very intrusive quirk hit me."
Shouto turned to his husband. His face was soft, vulnerable, and completely open.
"For twenty-four hours, I existed without my walls. I saw Katsuki for the first time without the fear of rejection. I saw an 'angel' who made me spicy curry, who laughed when I was absurd, and who let me hold his hand in the park like it was the most natural thing in the world." Shouto paused. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "I have never said this out loud, but I have been meaning to find that villain and send them a very expensive thank-you basket."
The room erupted. Kaminari and Sero were howling with laughter. Even Aizawa, sitting in the back, gave a rare, appreciative smirk. When the noise died down, Shouto’s voice dropped to a register that brought a beautiful silence to the hall.
"Because that week did more than break my filter," Shouto whispered. His eyes were wet. "It showed me that Katsuki was waiting for me to speak the whole time. It showed me that the man I thought was just a partner had been holding a space for me in his heart for a decade. I am standing here today not because of a quirk, but because I finally stopped being afraid to be loved by the most resilient person I have ever known."
Katsuki’s breath hitched. A tear escaped and tracked down his cheek. His lip trembled, and his shoulders shook as he tried to hold it together.
"Katsuki," Shouto murmured. He stepped away from the podium and reached over. He touched Katsuki’s jaw and wiped the tear away. He did not care about the cameras. He leaned in until their foreheads touched. "Thank you for not making me go back to the cold."
Katsuki let out a watery, choked laugh. He looked up at Shouto with red-rimmed eyes full of love. "You are a menace, Shou. You ruined my reputation in front of the cameras. Everyone knows I am a sap now."
"I know," Shouto smiled. He looked at Katsuki like he had hung the stars in the sky. "And I would do it again every day if it meant you looked at me like this."
Katsuki grabbed Shouto’s tie and pulled him in for a tearful kiss. The crowd stood up and roared with applause, celebrating two men who had finally found the same rhythm.
As the music played and the night stretched out, they did not need to speak. They had spent a decade in silence and a year in confession. Now, they had a lifetime to enjoy the warmth.