You and Me!

by rokipeachbear

Summary:

Todoroki and Midoriya were Class 1-A’s golden couple—UA’s sweethearts. Strong, smart, and stupidly in love. Everyone thought they were perfect together. Even Sero did.

But then they broke up.

Now Todoroki’s heartbroken, and somehow, Sero ends up being the one helping him pick up the pieces.

Which would be fine…
If he hadn’t been in love with Todoroki since the damn Sports Festival

Notes:

Okay, so I did post this before… but I kinda hated it, so we're pretending that never happened. If you think you read it—no you didn’t.

Anyway, enjoy the real version!

Edit: Also sidenote, we're going to pretend that whole ass war arc didn't exist since I choose happiness!

Chapter 1: Club

My name’s Hanta Sero, but everyone just calls me Sero. And yes—I am undeniably handsome, wildly talented, effortlessly humble, and absolutely awesome.

I’m fifteen, and I’m here to tell you why being a teenager?

Freaking sucks.

Especially when you’ve got superpowers, and a literal league of war criminals keeps trying to kill you and your classmates on a weekly basis.

Add in teenage drama, and you’ve basically got my life.

So why are you listening to this?
Because I’m bored. And I feel like talking about myself.
Why?
Because I can. And you're here. So buckle up.

Alright, here we go.

I go to U.A. High—the top hero school in Japan. It’s where all the hopeful future heroes go to train, improve their quirks, and try not to die during “training exercises.”

A quirk is basically a superpower, and mine? It's something else.

I’ve got tape dispensers in my elbows. Yeah, you heard me right. I can shoot these long, ultra-strong cellophane tape strips from my arms—and retract them too. I can swing with them, tie people up, rescue civilians, or shut Mineta up (which is honestly the best use).

Hero name? 

Cellophane.

And yes, I am basically Spider-Man in this bitch.

Now, my class—Class 1-A—is stacked with some seriously impressive people. We’ve got powerhouses, geniuses, and absolute weirdos. But my friends?
Top tier. Ride-or-die level awesome.

Let me introduce you.

First up: Kirishima. 

The manliest dude I know. His quirk lets him harden and sharpen his body into jagged rock. He’s strong, loyal, and basically a human golden retriever. Seriously, he’s the heart of our group—even if he won’t admit he’s crushing on our resident human grenade. (We’ll get to Bakugou in a sec.)

Next: Denki Kaminari.

Our human battery. He can generate powerful electric surges—like, blackout-a-whole-city powerful. He did that once. Detention for a week. Still iconic. He can also charge our phones with his mouth. Gross? Yes. Useful? Also yes.

Then there’s Mina.

Pink-skinned, acid-powered, dance queen. She’s a literal powerhouse with insane moves and even better vibes. She’s like a sister to me—and one of my closest friends.

And finally, our grumpy group dad: Bakugou.

Loud, angry, and explosive—literally. His quirk lets him make explosions with the nitroglycerin sweat from his hands. Yeah, it’s weird. But effective. He acts like he doesn’t care about us, but we know he does. Especially when it comes to Kirishima. Just saying.

Now, our group is pretty solid, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t someone else I kinda wish we could add.

That someone is: Shoto Todoroki.

The hottest guy alive.

Cough!

I mean—he’s cool. Like, literally.

Todoroki’s quirk is split down the middle—ice on the right, fire on the left. Two quirks in one. It’s unreal. And don’t get me started on his looks. Heterochromatic eyes—one icy blue, one calm gray. Fluffy, half-red, half-white hair that looks like peppermint candy. He’s unique. He’s powerful. He’s beautiful.

And yeah, I’ve had a crush on him since the Sports Festival.

He froze my ass during our match, and I’ve been obsessed ever since. His attitude was cold, his determination was intense—and I thought he was the coolest (and hottest) person I’d ever met.

His glares? Other people say they’re scary. I say... kinda hot.
I’ve liked him ever since.

Now you’re probably thinking,
“Why don’t you just ask him out?”

I would. I so would.
But there’s just one tiny, inconvenient problem:

He’s dating Izuku Midoriya.

Yeah. That Izuku Midoriya. The class sweetheart. UA’s secret weapon. Smartest, kindest, most perfect dude in the school. I mean, I like Midoriya. We’re chill. But... he’s dating my crush.

They’ve been together for three months.
(Yes, I’ve been counting. Don’t judge me.)

And honestly? I’m kind of sick of hearing how perfect they are.

“Aw, they’re so cute!”
“They’re such a power couple!”
“They’re made for each other!”
“Sero will never find happiness!”

...Okay, that last one was from me, but still.

I hate to admit it, but they are kind of perfect together.
Strongest students in the class. Great chemistry. Endless PDA.

And yeah, it hurts.
But I’m not about to ruin their relationship just because I caught feelings. That’s not how life works. Sometimes you just have to live with it, move on, and hope that maybe, someday...

I’ll find someone perfect for me too.

I hope.

“Sero~”

I snapped out of my daydream at the sound of that familiar, annoying voice. Denki, my yellow-haired, energy-draining best friend, was grinning at me like an idiot and sticking his tongue out.

“Thinking about your crush~?”

Yeah… I made the mistake of telling Denki. That’s on me.

I shoved him away, groaning. “No, you idiot. I’m thinking about this damn project,” I half-lied.

Okay, maybe 60% lied. Sure, I was daydreaming about the man of my dreams, but also about how much I didn’t want to deal with this hostage rescue quirk presentation.

People think, ‘Oh, that sounds easy.’ It’s not. Not when Aizawa’s grading scale is basically rigged against us. The dude grades like he wants everyone to fail. Nine out of ten times, someone ends up with a C—or worse.

“Yeah, right,” Denki teased, wiggling his eyebrows. “You get this look in your eyes when you’re thinking about that person.”

I was about to smack him when my red-haired savior stepped in.

“Kaminari, cut it out. You know how he feels.”

Kirishima, my ride-or-die. Bless him.

Denki slung an arm around my shoulders. “Come on, Sero~ We gotta get you out of this funk.”

“What funk?” I asked, clearly in denial.

And then came the chaos gremlin herself—Mina, popping up out of nowhere.

“Um, the same funk you’ve been stuck in for months,” she said, arms crossed.

I gave her a flat look before pouting down at my homework. “I haven’t been in a funk.”

“Yeah, you have,” Denki and Mina chimed in together.

“Sorry, bro… but you have,” Kirishima added with a sheepish smile.

Et tu, Kiri?

I let out a groan and dropped my head onto my desk.

They were right. Ever since the “power couple” got together, I’ve been… off. Not just sad. Depressed might be the word. My brain keeps playing these little daydreams where I’m with Todoroki—and then I wake up and remember he’s with Midoriya, and the sadness hits all over again.

And it happens every. Single. Night.

“Awww, cheer up, Sero!” Mina squealed, hugging me from behind. “It’s Friday, and the weekend’s here! You know what that means~”

I glanced up just in time to see Denki and Kirishima high-five and strike their signature ridiculous pose.

“Party time!”

Yeah… they’re loud. But someone’s gotta keep the balance. That’s me. The anchor in the storm.

“WOULD YOU SHITTY EXTRAS SHUT UP!?”

And there it is. The Bakugou entrance.

He stood at the front of the room, shooting us all the kind of glare that could melt steel.

“Come on, Bakubro!” Denki winked. “You know you wanna come with us.”

“In your dreams, losers,” Bakugou scoffed. “You’re the last people I’d be caught dead with.”

Denki clutched his chest and leaned on me dramatically. “Ouch, Bakubro. That was colder than Todoroki's ice.”

“Meaner than usual,” Mina added with a pout.

Kirishima shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. He’s just salty his mom’s making him go home this weekend.”

“WHAT THE HELL, SHITTY HAIR!?”

I blinked. For someone Bakugou supposedly likes, he really goes hard on the name-calling. And yet Kirishima just smiled, brushing it off like always.

"Aw, Bakubabe, you could’ve just told us you were heading to the rentals," Mina teased with a cheeky smile. "We would’ve totally understood."

I swear I could see the steam rising off Bakugou’s head. It made me laugh… for like, a second.

Then I saw it.

Right behind our favorite human firecracker.
Right next to my desk.

There he was.
The man of my dreams.

Todoroki sat casually on Midoriya’s desk, the two of them smiling at each other like they were the only people in the room.

Todoroki’s smile hits different. It’s so rare, so subtle—it feels like catching a glimpse of sunlight after a week-long storm. Some people call him handsome. They’re wrong.
He’s pretty. The prettiest person I’ve ever seen.

And he just so happens to be dating the friendliest person alive.

Of course.

"Sero!"

I snapped out of my daze and turned to see Kirishima frowning at me. That expression never looks right on him—it’s like seeing a puppy with a raincloud over its head.

"You okay, man?"

Of course not.

But I wasn’t about to spill my sad little pining heart to the boys.

I forced a smile. "Yeah, of course."

Kiri didn’t look convinced. His frown deepened, but before he could press, the bell rang like it had a personal vendetta against awkward emotional moments.

"Alright," Aizawa mumbled from his cocoon of a sleeping bag, "get out and don’t come back ‘til Monday."

Chairs scraped. Bags zipped. The room filled with chatter as everyone rushed out to start their weekend.

I watched as Kiri slung an arm over Bakugou’s shoulder, leading him out of the classroom like the sunshine and the storm they are. Denki and Mina were already skipping toward the door, laughing about who-knows-what.

I sighed and slung my bag over my shoulder.

Just another day of watching the person I want… love someone else.

As I reached for my notebook, two familiar voices pulled me back in.

"You said that last weekend."
"I’m sorry, Sho. I really need to work on my training."

Sho?

I glanced up.

Midoriya was packing up his books while Todoroki—my beautiful, stoic, tragically taken crush—stood nearby, frustration in his eyes.

I know, I know. Eavesdropping is bad.

But listen. Tea. Is. Tea.

"I wanted to take you out this weekend, Izuku," Todoroki said, quieter now. "We need this."

His voice carried this gentle frustration. A softness edged in ache. I’d never heard him sound like that before.

"I appreciate that," Midoriya replied, "but I’m still not in full control of my quirk. I need Mirio’s help this weekend."

Todoroki clicked his tongue and looked away.

"I—I’ll make it up to you," Midoriya added, softly.

My heart felt like it was doing backflips. I didn’t want to be listening—but I couldn’t not listen.

What was this tension?

Was everything perfect in paradise?

I shook the thought away, shoving the last of my stuff into my bag and making a beeline for the door.

And then—

"Hey, Sero?"

I froze.

That cheerful, chirpy voice.

I turned around slowly.

There they were. Midoriya with his usual sunshine smile, and Todoroki standing beside him. Calm. Cool. Stunning.

And looking right at me.

Holy crap.

"Sero?" Todoroki repeated my name, tilting his head slightly, eyes wide and confused in the most adorable way.

Todoroki said my name.

Oh my god, mi amor is talking to me?!

"O-Oh, hey guys. W-what’s up?" I managed, probably sounding like I was choking on air.

I wanted to disappear. Or scream. Or kiss him.
All three, maybe.

"Oh, um… I wanted to talk to you," Midoriya began, rubbing the back of his neck. "The others and I noticed you haven’t really been yourself lately, and I just… wanted to make sure you’re okay."

I blinked at him. Damn it.
I want to hate this dude.
I should hate this dude.
He’s dating the guy I’ve been crushing on since the sports festival.

But no. He’s just too damn nice.
And he’s worried about me?

The guy dating my crush is worried about me?

God. Damn. It.

"Oh? Uh, thanks, Midoriya… but it’s nothing," I mumbled. "Just… stressed about school. Y’know, assignments and stuff."

"Oh yeah? What kind of work? Maybe I can help!" he offered, like some kind of academic puppy.

WHY is he so nice?!

But apparently, not everyone appreciated his kindness. Because standing next to him, Mr. Ice-and-Fire himself was glaring holes through me.

I gulped.

Okay yes, he's hot, but he's also terrifying when he's irritated. And also still hot. Which is very unfair.

To avoid making things worse, I quickly waved my hands. "N-No, no, you don’t have to do that, Midoriya. I’ll just… work harder. I’ve got it handled."

I saw his green eyes dim just a little. "Well, okay… Just don’t push yourself too hard, alright?"

I was about to respond, but Todoroki suddenly scoffed. "As if you’d know."

And that’s when it happened.
Midoriya glared at him.
Midoriya. The human embodiment of cinnamon rolls.
Glared.

"Shoto," he said through gritted teeth.

Todoroki crossed his arms and looked away with a huff, and then Midoriya turned back to me with a forced smile. "Sorry, Sero. Shoto’s just being moody."

I laughed awkwardly. "N-No worries. I should probably—"

"OH, SERO~!"

I groaned.

I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Seconds later, Denki launched himself onto my back like an over-caffeinated lemur and wrapped his arms around my neck.

"Dude!" I yelped, nearly toppling forward. "What the hell?!"

He just grinned. "What are you doing, man? We were supposed to hit that new club, remember?"

"Okay, okay, you big dummy," I said as I pried him off.

"Club?" Midoriya asked curiously.

I looked up and saw him watching us, while Todoroki stared at the floor.
My smile faltered. Something about his expression… didn’t sit right.

"Yeah," Denki chirped. "New place downtown. Heard it’s got killer food and even better dancing. We need to go get dressed!"

He wrapped his arm around me like the chaos goblin he is.

"It’s gonna be sick. You two should come!" Kirishima added, bright as always.

Panic. Absolute panic.

NO, Kiri. Bad idea. Do not invite the couple.

"Actually, I can’t," Midoriya said with a small frown. "I’ve got more training to do."

"Aww," Kiri pouted.

Behind me, I heard Bakugou click his tongue. He really needs to just tell Kiri how he feels or keep his jealousy in check.

"I’ve got work too," Todoroki said flatly.

YES.

"Aw, too bad," Denki chirped, pinching my cheek. "We were gonna party hard."

"You guys be careful," Midoriya added. "There’s been villain sightings downtown lately. The League’s still active."

Before I could respond, Denki puffed out his chest.

"Pfft, no big deal. We’re Class 1-A. We can handle anything!"

Midoriya and Todoroki gave him matching looks of doubt.

"The only ass you’ll be kicking is your own, Dunce Face," Bakugou muttered as he walked by.

"Oof," Mina winced.

"Bakugou, that wasn’t cool, man," Kirishima said firmly, his usual smile gone.

Whoa.

Kiri rarely calls Bakugou out. That’s friendship-level 100 right there.

Bakugou grumbled something under his breath and stormed off, leaving us all standing awkwardly in the hallway.

"Same old Kacchan," Midoriya sighed beside me.

"Whatever," Denki said, brushing it off. "He’s not killing my vibe. Party time!"

Mina jumped on Kirishima’s back, laughing as he caught her effortlessly.

"Let’s go, squad!"

Denki whooped, and Kiri beamed as he carried Mina. He turned to me.

"You coming, bro?"

"Yeah, just a sec."

I glanced back at Midoriya and Todoroki—only to see something very off.
They were glaring at each other.

Midoriya and Todoroki.

Glaring.

The math was not mathing.

Nobody else seemed to notice, too caught up in club plans. To cut the tension, I gave a small wave and a smile.

"See ya, Midoriya. Later, Roki."

They both paused and looked at me weird.
Uh-oh.

Midoriya chuckled, "‘Roki’? That’s cute."

Todoroki tilted his head, confused. "R-Roki?"

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

I said that out loud, didn’t I?

"Yeah!" Denki jumped in like an unwanted wingman. "It’s a nickname from our cutie Sero!"

I turned and glared at him so hard I thought my eyeballs might combust.

But then—
I looked back at Todoroki.
And I swear on my tape roll—

He was blushing.

Blushing.

My heart skipped. My brain short-circuited. My serotonin skyrocketed.

Was he—was he blushing because of me?

Before I could figure it out, Denki tugged me away toward the dorms.

"Come on, man, let’s go!"

I reached back like some dramatic romcom lead.
But it was too late.

The couple turned and walked the opposite way.

Probably to the library. Or maybe their dorms. Doesn’t matter.

Because my crush—mi amor—was out of sight again.

Holding hands with someone else.

I sighed.
There goes my joy.

Mi amor would never be mine.
And I would never be his.

Life officially: sucks.

I pouted, dragging my feet along the hallway floor.

“Come on, dude, you’ve gotta get over him,” Denki said beside me, nudging my shoulder lightly.

I slipped out of his hold and jammed my hands deep into my jacket pockets. “It’s kinda hard… when he looks like that.”

Mina, lounging lazily on the her shirt, twirled a strand of Kirishima’s hair between her fingers. “There are other fish in the sea, y’know.”

“Yeah, but those fish aren’t as gorgeous, brave, alluring, mysterious, strong, amazing, excellent, attractive—”

“SHUT THE HELL UP.” Bakugou barked right into my damn ear. I hissed and covered my head like he’d physically slapped me with sound.

“Dude!” I groaned, blinking through the ringing. Denki winced beside me too, hands to his ears. Even his lightning-proof ass wasn’t immune.

I glared after the spiky menace. I thought he went ahead of us. Why was he still here?

Oh. Right.

Because someone hadn’t caught up yet.

And by someone, I mean our beloved, overly loyal, sharp-toothed himbo. Kirishima was still walking with us, which meant Bakugou decided to stick around and wait. And he has the nerve to call us soft.

“No one wants to hear you go on and on about that icy-hot bastard. It’s pathetic,” Bakugou sneered, his voice laced with disdain.

I flinched slightly. Yeah… it was pathetic. I knew that. But still—

“No, it’s not,” Kirishima cut in before I could spiral. His voice was calm, steady. Protective.

I looked up and saw him frowning at Bakugou, disappointment etched into his face.

“Liking someone isn’t pathetic. I think it’s actually pretty manly to be real about your feelings.”

He gave me a wink after that, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I smiled back at him, warmth bubbling in my chest.

Bakugou grumbled something too low to catch—probably swearing in Morse code—but even he didn’t try arguing with that. Not when it came from Kirishima.

“Yeah, Kiri’s right,” Mina added, leaning against him dramatically. “But still… I hate seeing you like this, Sero. All gloomy and mopey and tragic-romance hero-core.”

I chuckled a little, about to make a dumb joke, when I caught something out of the corner of my eye.

Bakugou.

His face turned just a bit red. Jaw clenched. Eyes flicked to Kirishima, then quickly away.

Oh.

OHHHH.

Kirishima’s in trouble.

But the lovable redhead didn’t notice a thing—too busy throwing me that concerned little furrowed-brow look he always did when he was worried about someone.

“Yeah man,” Denki chimed in, now with his Serious Face on. “It’s been weeks. You’ve gotta find someone new. Maybe even tonight.”

I blinked. They were right. I’d been in emotional limbo for way too long. Time to stop letting my crush ruin my vibe.

I gave them a sly grin. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll find a babe tonight. Or a fine gentleman~”

Denki lit up and clapped me on the back. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

“Yeah man, go get 'em!” Kirishima added with a fist pump.

Bakugou muttered something that definitely sounded like “losers,” but none of us paid him any mind.

We had plans.

I flashed a big grin at the crew. “Party time, my dudes.”

“YAAAY~” Denki and Mina chorused dramatically, complete with jazz hands.

I slung an arm over Denki’s shoulders as we started toward the dorms, laughter trailing behind us like glitter in the wind.

Honestly? I’m lucky to have them.

And it’s Friday night.

Something tells me this weekend is gonna be legendary.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I looked at myself in the mirror and slicked my hair back, grinning like I was in a music video.

“Oh yeah~ The hoes are gonna love this,” I winked at my reflection.

I straightened my collar and adjusted the sleeves of my oversized black hoodie—it had Spiderman swinging across the front in red and blue glory. Paired it with some black joggers, a beanie, and fresh black high tops. Simple. Clean. Casual with a pinch of swagger.

Mina said to keep it low-key since the club wasn’t some fancy place. Just “look cool, but like, chill,” her exact words. I think I nailed it.

Now... we just have to get inside without getting our asses thrown out.

See, here’s the catch: the club doesn’t allow anyone under 18. And guess how old we all are?

Fifteen. All of us. Except Denki. He’s the old man of the group at sixteen.

So yeah, we’re sneaking in. Fake IDs and everything.

Denki—being the sneaky little devil he is—knows a guy who knows a guy. Dude hooked us up with fake IDs. Even got one for our baby redhead, Kirishima, the literal youngest of us all. We call him “baby” because of it. He hates it. We love it.

Kirishima was not feeling the fake ID plan at first. Gave us this whole speech about rules and honor and “manly values.” We hit him right back with, “Isn’t it manlier to go to the club with your friends?”

That shut him up. We won.

Now our IDs say we’re all 18. Denki’s says he’s 20 for some reason. He claims it’s for “swagger purposes.” No one questioned it.

We even have backup. Sato and Shoji are covering for us in the dorms. Real MVPs. If this works, we’re golden.

Honestly, I’m just excited to party. I need this.

Between school, fighting bad guys, training, work studies, mountains of homework, and watching the love of my life parade around with someone else—it’s been rough.

Tonight? I’m letting it all go.

I sprayed a little cologne on—just a spritz. Didn’t wanna suffocate anyone with the scent. As I got ready, I hummed to my favorite Enrique Iglesias song.

Yep. Bailando.

And yes. 

The Spanish version. 

Like a real fan.

“ Bailando (bailando)
Bailando (bailando)
Tu cuerpo y el mío llenando el vacío
Subiendo y bajando (subiendo y bajando)~”

I even threw in a little spin and finger gun combo in front of the mirror.

I was mid-hip thrust when I heard voices. Muffled, but loud enough to kill the vibe.

I paused the music and listened.

Nothing. Silence.

I shrugged. Probably Denki trying to prank Bakugou again. That boy has a death wish.

But just as I went to press play again, the voices came back—louder.

I frowned. “What the hell…?”

I walked over to my door, cracked it open—and froze.

Figures in the hallway.

Two of them.

Oh no.

I backed up quickly, shutting the door just enough to peek.

Midoriya. And... Todoroki.

They were arguing.

And not in the, “haha you left your bento in the fridge” kind of way. No, this was serious. Intense. Their body language was tense. Cold. Fractured.

Which sucked, because—yeah—I live next to Todoroki. Crush of my life. Walking daydream. Human winter. All that. To some, it’d be heaven. To me? Hell.

I can’t jam out too loud. Can’t make weird noises. Can’t be me without risking total embarrassment. But that’s not even the point right now.

The point is: they were fighting.

And I couldn’t look away.

Todoroki had that icy glare of his. Midoriya’s fists were clenched and trembling. Dude looked pissed.

And that? That was shocking. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him mad unless someone insulted All Might or messed up his notes.

“What the hell was that?!” Midoriya snapped, loud enough for me to hear clearly now.

“I just wanted to be with you,” Todoroki replied, his voice quieter, more controlled.

Midoriya’s eye twitched. “That doesn’t give you the right to snap and almost freeze everyone just because they were helping me train! You embarrassed me in front of Mirio!”

Oh.

So this happened recently.

Damn, I must’ve missed one hell of a training session.

“What is with you, Shoto?! I told you—I have to train!”

Todoroki’s tone suddenly got sharp. “What’s with me?! What’s with you?! You never do anything with me anymore!”

Midoriya facepalmed. “Shoto, we talked about this. Our relationship can’t get in the way of our hero training. That was the deal from the start.”

Whoa.

Trouble in paradise. Big trouble.

I leaned closer, eyes wide.

“Honestly, Shoto…” Midoriya growled. “I don’t understand why you’re so… so—”

“So what, Izuku?” Todoroki’s voice rose, finally losing that icy calm.

I swallowed. That man’s angry voice is terrifying. And hot. Damn it.

Midoriya snapped, “You’re so damn clingy!”

My jaw dropped. I slapped a hand over my mouth.

Did he just—?

No. No way. Not Izuku “Sunshine” Midoriya cursing out his boyfriend. His boyfriend. Who he always held hands with in the cafeteria. Who he used to wait for after class. Who he used to—

Todoroki blinked. “Clingy?” He tilted his head to the side, confused.

He always does that when he doesn’t understand something.

God, he’s such a hot airhead.

“Yes, Todoroki. Clingy. You never give me space. I love you, but I need time to myself. I told you that becoming a hero was my number one goal.”

Silence.

Then—

“I get that, Midoriya,” Todoroki muttered, “but you never spend time with me. You just train and disappear and act like I don’t exist. I thought we were in this together.”

Oof.

His voice cracked just a little. That was real pain. No faking that. He sounded... exhausted.

This wasn’t the first time they’d fought about this. You could feel the history in it.

I looked away for a second, feeling sick to my stomach.

This was too much.

And then—

“Maybe… this isn’t working out.”

Everything stopped.

I whipped my head back toward the door.

No. No way. He didn’t just say that.

But Midoriya did. He did.

Todoroki stumbled back slightly. “W-What?”

Midoriya rubbed his arm, eyes low. “I don’t think we can be… us anymore.”

“I-I don’t understand, Izuku—”

“I think you do,” Midoriya whispered. Cold. Sharp.

Todoroki didn’t answer. His whole body was still.

Midoriya hesitated... then said it.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, Shoto.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Walked down the hallway. Disappeared around the corner.

Todoroki didn’t move.

Neither did I.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t think.

I just... slid down my door and sat there, staring at nothing.

Midoriya and Todoroki just broke up.

Like. Actually. Broke. Up.

I know I shouldn’t be this shook. I know I was eavesdropping. I know I should feel guilty.

But…

Holy. Shit.

Todoroki is now...

Single.

A smile crept across my face.

Shoto Todoroki is single.

I might actually have a chance.

I shot up from the floor, heart thudding. I grabbed my phone, ready to text the group chat or call someone—anyone—but then I heard it again.

A door slammed. Loud.

I swallowed hard. Maybe I should mind my business. Yeah, probably.

But then—BANG!

This one was louder. Closer.

I turned slowly toward the wall. My eyes locked on it like it had said something. I placed my ear against the drywall, cautious. Muffled noises. Something heavy hit the wall again, and I flinched.

Oh god.

That's Todoroki’s room.

“…Shit.”

Before I could talk myself out of it, I ran out of my room like an idiot in a horror movie and found myself right in front of his door. My hand hovered. I was gonna knock… but I froze.

I mean, he just got dumped. Brutally. I should leave him alone. But also… he just got dumped. He’s in pain.

And I—I can’t stand the idea of him hurting alone.

So I knocked.

“Roki?” My voice came out softer than I expected.

Nothing. Just silence and something muffled behind the door.

I knocked again. This time, I pressed my ear against it right after, straining to hear.

Still nothing.

I sighed. Maybe I should just—

CLACK.

The door whipped open, and I yelped as my entire body tilted forward like gravity said “nope”—and SLAM—face, meet hardwood floor.

“Goddamn,” I groaned, clutching my nose. “Why is this my life—”

And then I heard it.

“What do you want?”

Colder than ice. Sharp enough to slice my soul into confetti.

I looked up slowly, still kneeling like some peasant in a medieval movie. My crush—my beautiful, tragically heartbroken crush—was standing there with the nastiest death glare I’d ever seen.

Swear to my abuela’s tamales, I almost peed myself right then and there.

But then I noticed it.

His eyes were puffy. Cheeks red. He’d been crying.

...

Duh, Sero. He just got dumped.

Still… damn. Seeing him like this? It hurt.

“You gonna just kneel there like an idiot or are you actually gonna explain why the hell you're here?” he growled.

I scrambled to my feet, wiping dust off my hoodie and trying to not panic. “I—I was in my room, and I heard, like… banging. On the wall. I just—I got worried, okay?”

“I don’t need your damn worries,” he snapped, venom dripping from every word.

Ouch.

I mean… I get it. He’s hurting. But it still stung, like being sucker-punched in the stomach with a cactus.

“I just—” I tried again.

“I said I don’t care!” he barked. “Leave me the fuck alone!”

Before I could even breathe, he slammed the door in my face. Hard. Like I felt the wind of it against my eyelashes.

I took a step back. Blinking.

“Damn…” I mumbled under my breath.

That’s my love, everybody. The one who’ll probably never look at me the way I look at him.

I sighed, head still spinning when I heard footsteps coming around the corner.

“Sero?”

I turned my head and saw Denki and Kirishima looking at me like I was a raccoon caught going through the trash.

Denki had on his lightning hoodie and his jeans with all the dumb chains he swears are cool. He even had his earrings in—he only wears those when we’re doing something we’ll probably regret.

Kiri, meanwhile, looked like a whole snack. Red cropped tank showing off abs, joggers hugging those thighs, hex gear all shining. Man was dressed like he was about to get hit on every five seconds—and he probably would.

“Why are you standing in front of Todoroki’s door?” Kiri asked, tilting his head.

My mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again.

Nothing came out.

Because what the hell was I supposed to say? “Oh, just eavesdropped on his breakup, then tried to comfort him, then got verbally assaulted and door-slammed?”

Yeah. That wouldn’t go over well.

I sighed. “Let’s just go get Mina.”

They exchanged a look, but thankfully, they didn’t ask questions.

I followed them down the hall, still trying to forget the way he looked at me—like I was the last person he wanted to see.

But I couldn’t.

And I didn’t.

Not even close.

Chapter 2: Sorry

Notes:

I LOVE THIS SHIP!!

Third Person POV

"OH MY GOSH, THIS CLUB IS LIT AS HELL!"

Mina wasn't wrong—and Sero had to agree. This place was insane.

Neon lights pulsed through the building like it was made of glow sticks. The tables twisted like swirl lollipops, the floor lit up beneath your feet, the booths could easily fit ten people, and the DJ was perched on top of a giant rainbow-lit wall, blasting absolute fire through the speakers.

Even the drinks came in glittery, swirly cups—some alcoholic, some not—but all of them sparkled like they were brewed by party gods.

And yeah, this place sold burgers.

Burgers. At a club.
This place was straight-up paradise.

The squad had successfully snuck in—not that it really mattered. The bouncer wasn't checking IDs that hard, so the fake ones were just for show. Either way, they made it, and now they were lounging in one of the massive booths on the second floor, waiting on food and taking in the scene.

"This place is AWESOME!" Denki shouted—for the seventh time.

"I know, right? And I heard the burgers here are the best in town, even though they just opened," Kirishima said, eyes scanning the menu like it held the meaning of life.

"Please. Thank me after I get my burger," Denki joked.

Mina laughed, but her eyes wandered over to Sero, who was frowning and quietly stirring his drink with the straw.

She nudged his shoulder.
"What's wrong, Sero?" she called over the music.

He blinked up at her, a little startled to see the whole table looking at him now.

"Nothing," he replied.

"Come on, dude," Denki groaned. "You've been down ever since we left the dorms."

Sero sighed. He hadn't told them what he overheard. It didn't feel right airing Todoroki's pain like that. Besides, he still felt bad about listening in on something so personal.

"Just thinking."

"About Todoroki?" Kirishima asked gently, sipping his (non-alcoholic) drink.

Sero gave a slow nod. Denki let out a dramatic groan.

"Seriously, man? We're at the coolest club ever!"

"I am having fun," Sero insisted.

Mina and Denki exchanged a look that clearly said he's totally lying, while Kirishima gave him a concerned frown.

"Come on, bro. You've been out of it all night."

"And there are so many hot people here," Denki added.

Mina rolled her eyes. "Really? That's your focus?"

"What? I like older women. Did you not see Bakugou's mom?! That woman is—"

"DUDE." Kirishima gagged.

"You can't lie and say she's not hot!"

Kirishima facepalmed.

Sero just blinked, then sighed. He hated being the one dragging the energy down.

"I'm sorry. I just... got a lot on my mind."

"Like what?" Mina asked softly.

Sero fiddled with his straw again. "I messed up."

"What do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head.

So he explained.

"I was in my room listening to Latin music—like I always do—and I heard something in the hallway. When I peeked out, I saw Midoriya and Todoroki arguing. And it was serious."

Kirishima and Denki exchanged wide-eyed looks. Mina stayed locked in, listening.

"They were yelling... and then... they broke up."

Mina gasped. Denki choked on his drink, coughing as Kirishima's eyes widened.

"No way," Kirishima muttered.

Sero nodded slowly and leaned back in the booth.

They all sat there in stunned silence. Todoroki and Midoriya had always seemed unbreakable—sweet, strong, and hopelessly in love. If they could fall apart... what hope was there for anyone?

"Are you serious?" Mina asked.

"Dead serious."

"Who ended it?" Denki asked quietly.

Sero looked up from his drink. "Midoriya."

"Shit," Denki breathed.

"That's bad," Kirishima said. "Todoroki always talked about how much he loved him."

Mina looked over. "Wait... so where do you come into this?"

Sero winced. "I kinda... watched the whole thing happen."

"Sero," Mina scolded, while Kirishima shook his head.

"It's not my fault!" Sero protested. "They were literally in the hallway!"

Kirishima gave a disappointed sigh. Denki lifted a hand. "Then what?"

"Afterward, I went back to my room to get ready... and then I heard a bang. Like, someone hitting a wall. It was Todoroki's room. I went to check on him, and when I asked if he was okay, he cursed me out and slammed the door in my face."

Everyone went still.

"He what?" Mina asked slowly.

"He slammed the door on you?" Denki added.

Sero nodded. "Yep."

"Damn," Denki muttered.

"Yeah. I get that he was angry, but I was just trying to check on him," Sero sighed.

Mina reached out, rubbing his hand gently. "That's rough."

Sero shrugged. "It's just... I thought maybe I had a chance, you know? But now he won't even look at me."

Kirishima frowned. He understood that feeling—having a crush who constantly seemed annoyed, like anything you did could set them off. He dealt with that every day with Bakugou.

Still, he always hoped.

Kirishima suddenly stood up. Everyone looked at him like he'd grown another head.

He pointed at Mina. "Alright, Mina. Time to show us your moves. We're dancing."

She blinked, then grinned. "Oh hell yeah!"

He turned to Denki and Sero with his signature sharp-tooth smile. "What are you two waiting for? Let's go party!"

Denki clapped Sero on the back. "Come on, dude. Let's have some real fun."

Sero barely had time to react before Mina grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor.

"LET'S PARTY~!"

Denki and Kirishima whooped and followed them down from the second-floor booth.

The lower level was packed. Neon lights strobed through the crowd, and the bass of the music vibrated in their chests. UA students weren't the only ones here—but that only made the vibe more electric.

"Ready to dance?" Mina shouted.

"HELL YEAH!" Denki and Sero answered in unison.

They dove into the crowd. Mina actually danced. Denki flailed around like a maniac. Kirishima sang along and moved to the beat. Sero laughed, just bobbing his head—but he was smiling.

He wasn't totally okay.
But he was better.

And for now, that was enough.
Because his friends were here.
And they had his back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Go, Mina!" Sero shouted from the edge of the dance floor, his voice nearly drowned out by the thumping bass.

Mina was on fire.

Her hair glowed under the club lights, her moves sharp and electric. It wasn't just their group hyping her up anymore—a whole crowd had formed around her, phones out, people cheering like she was a headliner at a concert.

She twirled, hit the beat like it owed her money, and the place lost it.

"Yo, she's killing it!" Denki whooped, bouncing beside Kirishima.

Kirishima pumped his fist. "She's gonna be famous, man!"

The UA crew stood front row, losing their minds. This was easily the most fun they'd had in weeks. After everything—attacks, training, the suffocating pressure to be perfect—this night felt like a breath of oxygen after being underwater too long.

They could finally let go.

Sero laughed, clapping his hands above his head. "Yeah, Mina! Show 'em how we do it at U.A.!"

His mood had done a full 180. The awkwardness from earlier? Gone. The ache in his chest when he saw Todoroki and Midoriya? Faded—for now.

The night had started simple. A few dances, a burger break, some stupid jokes that had them wheezing. Then a group of teens from another school joined them.

One guy tried to flirt with Mina. Another with Denki. Someone even made a move on Kirishima—who, despite not officially dating Bakugou, still gave them the cold shoulder with a loyalty that screamed "I only bark for one blonde."

Sero? He got hit on too—twice. Two numbers. Two college girls.

It should've been flattering, and it kinda was, but Todoroki's face kept popping into his head like an unwanted ad. No comparison.

When Mina's favorite song came on, it was over. She hit the floor like a meteor, and now here they were—trapped in a mosh pit of admiration, watching their girl dominate the club.

Sero took a sip of his soda, grin still on his face, when something buzzed in his pocket. He fished out his phone and blinked at the screen.

Yesterday 9:45 PM – Sugar Man 🎂:
Dude! Sero! Have you seen Denki? He's not answering our calls!

10:59 PM:
Where are you guys? It's almost past curfew. Iida's doing checkups!

11:30 PM:
We're screwed. Aizawa's PISSED. Shoji and I tried to cover but he didn't buy it. GET BACK NOW.

Sero's eyes widened. His heart dropped straight into his shoes.

"...Oh shit."

He looked around at his friends—laughing, drinking, vibing—completely unaware they were living on borrowed time. He reached out and grabbed Kirishima's shoulder.

The redhead flinched and turned. "Dude! I almost spilled my—"

"No time," Sero shoved his phone in his face.

Kirishima's expression shifted from annoyed to horrified in a single second.

Sero didn't wait. He dashed toward Mina, who was mid-spin. He grabbed her arm. She skidded to a halt, eyes confused, the crowd groaning at the interruption.

"Yo! I was being famous!" she pouted.

"We need to leave. Now," Sero shouted over the music.

"Why?"

Before he could answer, Denki and Kirishima rushed up like they were being chased by the devil himself.

"DUDES! OUR ASSES ARE GRASS!" Denki wailed.

"Why?!" Mina repeated, louder now.

Sero didn't sugarcoat it. "Mr. Aizawa knows."

Mina's jaw dropped. She yanked out her phone, checked the time—12:00 a.m.

"OH MY GOD!" she shrieked. "Curfew was eleven!"

They all exchanged panicked glances.

"We're so screwed," Denki groaned.

"MOVE!" Kirishima barked. "Let's go!"

"¡Vamos, idiotas!" Sero yelled, already pushing through the crowd.

The squad broke into a sprint, shoving past confused clubgoers and angry onlookers. There were shouts and spilled drinks, but they didn't have time for apologies. They needed to run.

Once outside, the night smacked them in the face. The streets were empty. Quiet. Cold.

They'd arrived at 8. It was now midnight.

"Bus station!" Kirishima pointed.

They bolted down the sidewalk like a bunch of criminals fleeing the scene.

"Aizawa's gonna kill us," Sero muttered.

"We're gonna be on janitor duty for life," Denki cried, nearly tripping over the curb.

"And detention," Mina gasped, holding her heels in one hand now. "And depowerment! Do you think they can legally take our quirks away?!"

"Stop being dramatic!" Kirishima huffed, although even he looked ready to cry.

Sero just kept running, lungs burning. "How the hell did we lose track of time that badly?!"

"Burgers! Dancing! Flirting!" Denki listed between wheezes. "IT WAS A WHOLE THING!"

"I told you it wasn't manly!" Kirishima yelled.

"SHUT UP, RED!" Mina and Denki snapped in unison.

Kirishima blinked. "What'd I do?!"

They didn't answer. They just groaned as the group barrelled down the street, praying they could somehow sneak into the dorms before Aizawa turned their lives into a training arc from hell.

They were too loud. Too late. Too screwed.

And yet—Sero couldn't help but laugh a little through his breathless panic.

It was a disaster.

But it was their disaster.

And honestly?

He wouldn't trade this chaos for the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

Well... we're so screwed.

"I don't think I can go in there," Denki whimpered, his lip trembling like a kid caught sneaking out past bedtime.

"Denki, stop being such a baby," Mina scoffed, crossing her arms like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I heard Denki's dramatic whining, but honestly? I felt that same pit of dread swirling in my gut.

We really messed up. It took us forever—over thirty minutes just to get back on the bus—and now it was pushing 12:45 AM.

Way past curfew.

We're pretty sure Aizawa-sensei has already told the other teachers. We're officially in deep shit.

Just great.

There we stood, frozen outside the dorms, too scared to face whatever nightmare awaited us inside.

"Okay, maybe if we tell him a villain attacked and we had to fight?" Denki blurted out, desperate for any excuse.

I shot him a 'seriously?' look. Kirishima wasn't buying it either—he just scoffed.

"Dude, the cops would've called Aizawa already. Use your brain."

Mina spun around with a sly smile. "Yeah, and I don't think he'd believe me fighting villains dressed like this." She gave a little twirl to show off her sparkling shirt, jeans not quite so impressive.

Kirishima and I laughed, and Denki just pouted.

We glanced up at the dorm windows—common room lights blazing. Someone was definitely awake, definitely waiting for us.

Mina sighed. "Come on, boys. Time to face our doom."

We groaned, but she was right. We can't hide from trouble forever—though wouldn't that be nice?

We started toward the door, then—wait—a thought hit me.

"Guys!"

They froze and turned.

"What?" Kirishima asked.

"Okay, I know we're wiped and no one wants a lecture. So... what if we sneak in through the windows and deal with Aizawa tomorrow?"

Makes total sense. I'd rather face cranky Aizawa fresh than barely holding it together after a night of dancing.

"I'm in," Mina grinned.

"Yeah, I'd rather deal with cranky Aizawa tomorrow," Denki agreed, ruffling his hair.

I glanced at Kirishima, silent for once.

"Kiri?"

He sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "I guess."

Score.

"Come on, follow me to my room."

I caught their nods and took off toward the back of the dorms, the others trailing behind me as I hunted for my window.

We were way out back, the quietest part of the building. I craned my neck, scanning the row of windows.

"Man, it's pitch dark back here," Denki muttered, rubbing his arms.

"How the hell are we supposed to get up there?" Mina asked, eyeing the height nervously.

I spun around with a cocky grin. "Simple. We use my amazing quirk and climb right up."

Mina and Denki went all 'ooooh,' impressed, while Kirishima just sighed like the responsible adult stuck babysitting.

"I don't know, Sero... maybe we should just talk to Mr. Aizawa," Kirishima suggested, concern furrowing his brow.

"No way," Denki said quickly. "I'm not dealing with him right now. You know how cranky he gets."

Kirishima gave a hesitant frown. "I mean... isn't this a little extreme?"

Mina grinned, wrapping an arm around Kirishima's neck. "Come on, Kiri~ We're just improvising. Not trying to get ourselves killed or anything."

Red-haired Kirishima rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. I shook my head, amused, then finally spotted the window.

I pulled out some tape from my pocket and stuck it firmly to the wall. Then I layered another strip, making sure it was solid enough to hold us all.

"We're gonna be so cool. Like those comics I read," Denki squealed excitedly.

Mina bounced in place, practically glowing. "I can't wait to show off my awesomeness!"

I chuckled, sticking more tape strips, then glanced back at my crew.

"Alright, coast is clear. Who's climbing first?"

"Me! Me! Me! Me!" Mina squealed, practically vibrating with excitement.

Kirishima and Denki both shushed her, but Mina just pouted.

"Do you want us to get caught!?" Denki hissed, half panicked.

"Sorry! I've always wanted to climb on tape," she whined, puppy eyes on full blast.

"Guys," Kirishima whispered urgently.

Yellow and pink ignored his pleas and kept babbling — they're gonna get us busted for sure. And I am not ready for house arrest.

There's this manga series I need to pick up tomorrow, and I definitely can't read it locked up.

"We won't get to climb anything if you keep squealing!" I snapped.

"Well, I've never climbed on his tape before! I just wanna be like that Spider chick or whatever!"

Denki groaned. "Her name's Gwen, Mina! We've been over this a hundred times!"

"Sorry, names aren't my thing!"

They kept bickering while poor Kirishima tried to hush them. I was too focused on making an escape rope, making sure no one got hurt. Kirishima stepped between them and shushed them quietly.

"Dudes, if we keep yelling, we're definitely gonna get caught."

And then—out of nowhere—a deep, menacing voice cut through the night:

"So this is what you're doing now?"

I swear I almost peed my pants.

My blood ran ice cold and sweat broke out across my forehead. I didn't even need to look at my friends' faces to know we were all terrified. We all knew—we were royally screwed.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" A shadowed figure stepped forward.

I slowly turned to face the voice. And that's when I saw it: red glowing eyes piercing through the darkness. The man who could erase us all in seconds.

Shit.

"A-Aizawa-sensei, hey," Denki stammered, voice cracking, failing miserably at sounding calm.

Kirishima and Mina looked like they'd seen a ghost. Honestly? We had.

We were staring death right in the face.

"You four thought it was a good idea to go downtown at this time of night where the League of Villains is running loose?" Aizawa snapped, his quirk starting to activate.

Mina and Denki immediately ducked behind Kirishima. I dropped my tapes and raised my hands in surrender.

I'm betting Mineta snitched on us—the purple pervert was salty we didn't invite him.

I swear I'm gonna kick his ass for this. Thanks to his tattling, now we're in trouble.

Maybe since I'm the 'semi-responsible' one, Aizawa'll go easy on us.

Right?

"Mr. Aizawa, I know this looks bad," I started cautiously.

I thought I heard a growl, and those red eyes seemed to bore into my soul.

I swallowed hard.

Holy crap, this guy is terrifying.

Everyone else was trembling, but I forced myself to stand tall.

"But at least... we're together now, working as a team," I said with a shaky, fake smile.

Silence. The kind that screams doom.

I glanced at my friends—wide-eyed and scared.

This quiet was not helping.

"A team," Aizawa chuckled darkly, slowly closing the distance.

Denki and I nodded nervously. "Y-yes, sir."

"Well, since you're a team... I won't mind taking you all to my office, calling your parents, and doling out a harsh punishment—as a team, of course," Aizawa said, his smile pure evil.

We all whined, but that stopped quick when his ropes whipped out and bound us tight.

I gasped for air while Denki collapsed to the ground, the ropes squeezing the breath out of us.

This man is cruel.

His eyes burned red as he tightened the ropes even more. Kirishima and Mina cried out for mercy, but I just swallowed hard.

"Please have mercy," Denki begged.

"Oh, you kids haven't seen mercy yet," Aizawa hissed.

My eyes went wide.

We're dead.

No manga for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

After an hour of scowls from their parents, the teachers, and even Principal Nezu, the students were finally released.

They barely made it out alive, despite Mr. Aizawa's desire to punish them further—almost knocking Denki unconscious with his ropes was punishment enough.

Their consequences were heavy: a month of after-school detention, a month of house arrest, and whatever additional punishments their parents saw fit to impose.

It was overwhelming.

At least they hadn't been caught using fake IDs—that was the small victory they clung to. Kirishima had almost spilled the truth, but somehow, they'd made it through.

Back in the dorms, everyone except Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya waited in the common area, exhausted and annoyed. Mina and Denki tearfully explained the severity of their punishment, and Iida launched into another lecture about sneaking out. Sero quietly slipped away, heading toward his room.

His body ached, and his mind felt drained. He wasn't too bothered by the punishments—except for the two months of after-school detention, which meant no trips to the bookstore for that manga series he'd been saving up for. He sighed, feeling the weight of it all.

As he reached his dorm door, ready to collapse, he heard another door open nearby. Glancing to his left, his body froze.

There stood the last person he wanted to see.

Todoroki.

Sero still liked Todoroki, but he couldn't deny the fear he felt around him. After all, the way Todoroki had snapped at him hours earlier, the hostility, and the near-freezing incident at the sports festival all left Sero tense whenever they crossed paths.

He wanted to turn and run, hide somewhere far away. Yet a small part of him felt like he deserved this—after all, he'd been eavesdropping on Todoroki's breakup. Witnessing someone's pain like that made him feel intrusive.

Just as he was about to slip into his room, a soft voice stopped him.

"Sero?"

He froze, turning slowly to see Todoroki standing there in his sleeping clothes—a simple grey t-shirt and loose sweatpants. There was something different about him tonight. His eyes were soft, but tinged with exhaustion. His cheeks, usually pale, were faintly flushed. And his long lashes glistened with moisture.

It was clear he hadn't slept and had been crying.

Nervous laughter escaped Sero's mouth. "O-Oh, hey, T-Todoroki."

Todoroki's frown deepened, and Sero panicked. Why was he frowning? He'd only said hello! Why couldn't he ever seem normal around Todoroki?

Before Sero could apologize, Todoroki spoke hesitantly, "A-Are you just getting back from the... club?"

His voice was soft, uncertain—something Sero had never heard from him before. And surprisingly, Todoroki didn't look angry or ready to attack. He was just... talking.

It felt strange.

"Yeah, um, we lost track of time. Mr. Aizawa caught us and was really pissed. So, yeah, we're in trouble," Sero replied, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous smile.

"Oh."

Then came the silence—thick and uncomfortable.

Sero hated this kind of silence. What could he say? His crush had just gone through a breakup and yelled at him earlier. This wasn't the moment to try being smooth or funny.

So he just stood there awkwardly.

Todoroki rubbed his arm, looking down, seemingly just as speechless.

"So... I'm gonna go," Sero finally muttered.

Todoroki's eyes flickered upward, widening. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Sero waited. When Todoroki remained silent, he sighed.

'Why did I expect anything?'

Turning away, he began to leave. Then Todoroki's voice came, soft and hesitant.

"I'm sorry."

Sero stopped in his tracks and turned back.

Todoroki's expression was hurt but sincere.

"I'm sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to be so harsh or rude. You were just being kind, checking on me. I was wrong. I apologize."

He bowed his head slightly.

Sero's eyes widened. Todoroki was apologizing—to him.

For a moment, it felt like the best day of his life.

But then he remembered why.

He gave a small, sad smile. "It's okay. I understand."

Todoroki looked up, surprised and uncertain.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Everyone has bad days. And you looked like you had one. You just have to find a way through it—especially when there's someone or something that makes those days better. I've got those days, too, and—"

He stopped suddenly, noticing Todoroki trembling.

His eyes widened as tears spilled down Todoroki's cheeks, dripping to the floor.

"Oh shit."

"I thought... someone you care about is supposed to be there... even on bad days," Todoroki murmured shakily.

Sero frowned at him.

Todoroki swallowed a sob rising in his throat. He'd told himself a thousand times it was only a matter of time before Midoriya left him. Now he was sure.

Midoriya left because he was too much, unworthy of love.

He had tried to be the person Midoriya needed, but it hadn't been enough.

He thought Midoriya would fill the emptiness inside—but he was wrong.

He looked up, eyes full of shock and sadness as more tears fell. But he quickly wiped them away, feeling pathetic for crying in front of Sero.

He was about to leave when Sero's hand gently grabbed his hand.

Before he could react, he was pulled close.

His eyes widened again as warmth wrapped around him.

He was about to protest, but the scent of calming cologne and the gentle pressure on his back made him stay.

'What is this feeling?'

Todoroki hadn't been held like this since he was a child. Over time, he'd closed himself off to physical contact. But since Midoriya, he'd slowly started to accept hugs again.

Still, nothing like this.

This embrace was soft and warm—like a blanket shielding him from the world.

Away from everything.

His eyes started to get watery and he buried his head down into the warmth and the calming smell. This spot felt soothing and welcoming, something Todoroki hasn't felt in a while.

The bi-colored boy doesn't know why but he just let it out, he guessed he felt a nice safe gate or he was too tired to think properly or just... too heartbroken.

He just gripped the fabric and just cried out his pain and frustrations

Sero looked down when heard whimpers and sobs coming from his chest, he saw the bi-colored boy trembling in his hold. The tape boy frowned as he stood there with the other in his arms.

He didn't know what came over with him when he pulled the other for a hug.

He swear he was going to say some calming encouragement to the other, but seeing him slowly but surely breaking down, just did something to him.

He pulled him into a hug and just let things happen.

The black-haired boy expected to be pushed or just be frozen to death or even roasted to death, but the other just stayed in his arms. In fact, he started holding onto his chest and started sobbing.

Now, on a regular day, Sero knows the other wouldn't be hugging him or crying in his arms.

But since the other is dealing with a breakup, that's why he's allowing him to even touch him. Since the other isn't known to allow others to touch him other than Midoriya.

He guessed he was too heartbroken to keep his cold persona up.

Sero sighed, he just hugged the other tightly and used one hand to pat the surprisingly smaller boy's head.

Sero knows he's taller than most of his classmates, but he always thought he and his crush were the same height. But at this moment, he looked so small in his arms.

He guessed the other liked his head being pat since he felt the heartbroken teen snuggle up on his chest, which made his face turn bright red.

' Holy~ Moly~'

He gulped, he has never been in this position before. He doesn't know what to do or what to say now, he just hugged him and did not think about what happens if he didn't reject the hug.

He only prepared the part where he had to run his life from being frozen or burned to death.

' Think Sero, what did abuelita and abuelito say when someone is in need?'

He was going to panic when nothing came into his mind, but then he remembered something interesting about the other. He hummed at an idea, he looked down.

" Hey Roki? W-Wanna check out my mangas?"

Now, if you heard that as you were crying because your true love just dumped you.

You might just be like, 'what the hell' or ' what the hell is wrong with you,' and Sero was prepared for both or even more negative responses.

Even a shove.

Or a smack.

But he got something different.

" M-Mangas?"

Sero looked down, and his heart broke all over again. Todoroki's face was flushed and wet from tears; his nose red, eyes glossy, cheeks puffy—but still, there was a fragile purity in those eyes.

Sero swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah, I thought... maybe reading could help you feel a little better."

He immediately cringed at how lame that sounded.

'Seriously, Sero? Manga?! The guy just went through a breakup and you bring up manga? I'm such an idiot. Bakugou was right—'

"Ok."

Sero snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Todoroki's soft voice. He blinked, feeling his face heat up more with every passing second as he looked at the other's quiet, beautiful presence.

To hide the blush creeping over his cheeks, Sero slipped on a playful smile. "All right then~"

He gently released Todoroki's arm—and immediately noticed the frown that crossed the other's face. He was about to ask what was wrong when Todoroki unexpectedly hugged his arm again, not looking at him but toward the door.

If Sero had to go out like this—heart pounding, goofy smile plastered on—he'd be more than satisfied.

Turning his key in the lock, he pushed the door open and silently prayed his room was decent.

The light flicked on, revealing a surprisingly clean space. Relief hit him—he was glad he'd tidied up earlier.

Using his free hand, he shut the door behind them.
"Welcome to my humble abode, Roki. Make yourself at home."

Sero felt Todoroki's grip on his arm slowly loosen, which made him frown—until he watched the boy wander over to his manga collection.

A soft chuckle escaped him as he saw Todoroki settle cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide with awe as he examined the colorful spines.

Sero turned to his drawers.
"I'm going to change and do my night routine. But you're more than welcome to start reading whatever catches your eye."

Todoroki glanced up from the manga and gave a slight nod.

Sero flashed a thumbs-up before heading to the bathroom—only to be stopped by a familiar, gentle voice.

"Sero?"

He turned."Yes?"

"Thank you."

Caught off guard, Sero just smiled his usual warm smile.

"No worries."

Todoroki nodded once more before returning to the manga, and Sero couldn't help but chuckle softly to himself as he gathered his pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After finishing his shower and going through an extended version of his nightly routine, Sero finally stepped into his room.

He had taken longer than usual—meticulously moisturizing, fixing his hair just right, and making sure every part of him looked and smelled fresh. Why? Because his crush was literally in his room.

This wasn't the time to look like a tired, scruffy mess. No way. He needed to make a good impression. A great one.

Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, Sero opened the bathroom door. "Sorry for the wait, Roki. I had to do some extra—"

He stopped cold.

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest at the sight before him.

Curled up on the floor next to his manga shelf, hugging a pillow tightly to his chest, was Todoroki—fast asleep.

Sero's eyes widened.

Oh my god.

It took everything in him not to pull a Mina and squeal on the spot. But no—he had to play it cool. Chill. Totally normal.

He tiptoed closer, glancing over Todoroki's shoulder. Sure enough, the boy had dozed off while reading.

Sero let out a quiet laugh when he saw the volume in Todoroki's hand. "Fruits Basket, huh? I forgot I even had that one."

Todoroki didn't stir, his breathing soft and even. He looked peaceful, and Sero hesitated. Waking him felt like a crime.

But he couldn't just let him sleep on the floor like that. What kind of gentleman would he be?

Carefully, Sero bent down and slipped his arms around him, lifting him into a gentle bridal carry.

Thank god he'd been keeping up with arm day—Todoroki was pure muscle. Surprisingly heavy, but somehow still felt...light in his arms.

Sero adjusted his grip, breathing through the strain, but when he glanced down—he froze.

Todoroki's face in sleep was soft—serene, even. Puffy eyes, a red-tinted nose from all the earlier crying—and yet somehow, to Sero, he was still the most breathtaking thing he'd ever seen.

Delicate. Gentle. Real.

With Todoroki resting quietly in his arms and the noise of the world momentarily silenced, Sero felt it deep in his chest—he'd do anything just to see that boy smile again.

He'd always wondered about that scar. Some said it was a birthmark. Others whispered different stories. But to Sero, it didn't matter. Todoroki was beautiful, scar and all. That part of him only made him more real—more human.

Sero wished, in some quiet corner of his heart, that he could be the one to stay by Todoroki's side. That he could be the one Todoroki leaned on. Loved openly. Smiled at without hesitation. But deep down, he knew better.

Todoroki's heart belonged elsewhere... or maybe nowhere at all.

Those were just wishes.

Sighing, Sero carefully walked Todoroki over to his bed. He lowered him onto the mattress with quiet precision, then let out a satisfied huff as the boy settled in.

"Success," he whispered to himself, grinning faintly.

He tugged the covers up and fluffed the pillows around Todoroki's head, taking a final moment to admire the peaceful way he slept. A small part of him wanted to lean in, maybe brush a kiss against his cheek—but another louder part of his brain snapped: Dude, what? No. Weird.

Common sense won.

Instead, Sero padded back to his corner of the room, crouched in front of his beloved manga collection, and pulled out the volume of Demon Slayer he'd been reading earlier. He grabbed his headphones, slipped them on, and sank into the familiar comfort of printed pages and background music.

Grounded or not, this beat spiraling over the fact his crush was currently asleep in his bed.

Even if it meant he was stuck sleeping on the floor tonight.

Still, Sero couldn't bring himself to care too much. Not when Todoroki looked so at peace.

He turned a page with a quiet sigh, completely unaware of the pair of eyes now watching him.

Todoroki had woken up when he was laid down. He didn't move, just watched in silence, blinking slowly as he tried to make sense of the older boy's behavior.

Why is he being so nice to me? Even after how I treated him?

The thought flickered briefly before the warmth of Sero's room—his scent, his blankets, his quiet hums—wrapped around Todoroki like a lullaby. Everything in here felt softer. Safer. More comforting than anywhere he could remember.

His eyelids began to droop again, heavy with exhaustion.

The last thing he saw before sleep took him was the gentle curve of Sero's back, hunched over his manga, completely unaware of the weight of the heart he had just unknowingly caught.

Todoroki drifted off, mind still echoing with the sound of quiet humming and one unshakable thought:

Sero...

Chapter 3: Fairy Tale

Third Person POV:

When Sero woke up, the first thing he felt was a sharp ache in his neck.

"Ugh—damn it," he groaned, trying to stretch. But as he moved, he noticed something unusual: a blanket draped over him.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked around and realized he had dozed off in front of his bookshelf again—right beside his beloved manga collection.

"Shit, I did it again," he muttered to himself, rubbing the back of his neck.

It wasn't the first time. Sero had a habit of reading late into the night and falling asleep mid-volume, sometimes still clutching the book. With a yawn, he stood and stretched, his joints cracking satisfyingly as his body slowly shook off the stiffness.

But when he turned to glance at his bed, he paused.

It was empty.

Worse—neatly made.

His heart sank a little. Had he made Todoroki uncomfortable? He hadn't meant to. Sero sighed, walking over with a tired slump in his shoulders, only to notice something resting on his pillow: a piece of folded paper.

Curious, he picked it up and opened it.

'Dear Sero,

I want to thank you for your understanding and your kindness last night. I really needed it, and I'm grateful you let me use your bed.

I'm sorry for how I treated you yesterday, and I'm especially sorry that you ended up sleeping on the floor. I hope the blanket helped, even if it's not much. I don't think I can forgive myself for making you do that.

You're a great friend. Comforting. And your manga collection is very impressive. I'd love to read some of it with you sometime—if you'd be okay with that.

You're a really good friend.

—Shoto'

Sero's cheeks flushed bright red. His grin stretched so wide it felt like his face might break from how hard he was smiling. Hugging the letter to his chest, he let out a quiet laugh.

"He wants to read manga with me," he whispered.

And for a moment, the ache in his neck didn't seem to matter at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

I didn't want to go to school today. Or any day, really—not if it meant seeing Midoriya.

I didn't even want to leave my room. But skipping class would just lead to the school calling my father, and I couldn't deal with that on top of everything else. So I got up. I dragged myself through the motions and went to school.

I had to walk alone.

Normally, I would walk with Midoriya and the others. I even arrived at the usual time, out of habit. But no one was there.

Maybe it was for the best. I didn't want to see him. Not today. Maybe not ever again.

No one ever warned me that being in a relationship would be this hard. No one told me that breaking up would be even worse. Then again, no one in my family ever talked to me about love. Or emotions. Or anything that didn't serve a purpose.

Relationships were never considered important in my house—just distractions from the only thing that mattered to my father: turning me into his perfect little hero.

But when I was with Midoriya... those voices—my father's voice, my own voice—were quieter. I didn't feel useless. I didn't feel pressured to be something I wasn't.

With him, I just was.

But I guess that wasn't enough. He said I was "clingy." I still don't really know what that means, but it didn't sound good. And if that's what I was... then I guess it's my fault he left.

I thought he loved me for who I was. But maybe who I am is just too much. Maybe I overwhelmed him. I guess I get it. I wouldn't want to be in a relationship with me either.

My eyes burned, and I quickly wiped them. No. Not here. I already fell apart last night—I can't do that again.

Last night, I was pathetic. A crying mess. Curled up in a ball of misery.

I usually don't let myself get like that. I'm supposed to be good at holding it in. But even I have limits.

I crossed those limits when I lashed out at Sero.

I still feel awful about that. He didn't deserve it. He was only trying to help, and I treated him like... like my father would have.

I let that angry, ugly part of me come out. I hurt someone who had nothing to do with what I was feeling.

But Sero... he's so admirable. Kind. He didn't have to forgive me. He didn't have to let me stay in his room that night. But he did.

He even hugged me.

And—strangely—it helped. More than I thought it would.

He didn't pull away.
He didn't flinch.
He just held me while I cried like some helpless child.

And in his arms—even just for a moment—I felt safe.

Some might say he was too kind.
But no, Shoto.
He was being kind. Just...genuinely kind.

And I cursed him out.
Called him an idiot.

Maybe this is why Midoriya doesn't love me anymore—my anger always ruins things.

No. I ruin things.

Just like my father.

I sighed as I stepped onto campus, ignoring the stares and hushed whispers that followed me through the corridors. I knew what they were about. The breakup.

But how did anyone find out?

I didn't tell anyone, and I doubted Midoriya would want to share something like that. Sero didn't ask many questions last night, and he doesn't seem the type to gossip.

So... who?

I didn't know. And honestly, I didn't care. Let them talk.

What I did care about was walking into Class 1-A and seeing him. And facing everyone else.
They'd probably hate me too—because I'm the reason Midoriya ended things. The one who was too much. Too intense. Too broken.

I wouldn't blame them.

When I opened the classroom door, the chatter died instantly. Every pair of eyes turned to me—except his.
Midoriya wouldn't even look in my direction.

That hit harder than I expected.

He used to smile at me every morning. Now, I couldn't even get a glance.
My gaze dropped to the floor as I passed his desk. And just like that, the voices returned—the ones I tried so hard to silence.

You're a disgrace.
No one wants someone like you.
You didn't try hard enough.
You're just like your father.

"Roki?"

That voice—gentle, light—cut through the noise.

I looked up to see the warmest smile I'd seen in days.

Sero.

Why...why was he smiling at me like that?

He leaned on my desk casually, like this morning was no different than any other.

"How ya feeling?" he asked, easy and calm.

He was asking about me?

He wasn't mad?
He wasn't calling me names?
He wasn't disgusted with me?

"Roki~? Earth to Roki?"

He waved a hand in front of my face, laughing a little. It wasn't Midoriya's quiet, thoughtful laugh—but it was...warm.

Familiar.

"Y-Yeah. I'm fine," I lied, forcing the words out.

He didn't need to worry about me. He didn't deserve to get dragged into my mess like Midoriya had been. I wasn't going to ruin another friendship.

"You sure? You're spacing out more than usual," he said gently.

Our eyes met. His were a deep, earthy brown. Soft. They reminded me of those chocolate buns I used to want as a kid—before my father banned sweets from my diet.

Wait—did I just call his eyes beautiful?

I quickly looked away, shaking the thought from my head. He tilted his own slightly, clearly noticing my shift, but instead of commenting, he just smiled again.

"I get it. I won't bug you."

Bug me?

My eyes widened. A part of me didn't want him to stop. His voice was... grounding. It felt good to be spoken to like I mattered. But I didn't know how to say that. I didn't get the chance, either—the bell rang.

I looked down, frowning. Then I heard a soft tap on my desk.

I glanced up. He was still smiling.

"I'll take you up on that manga-reading offer."

I blinked, confused.

Then I remembered the note I'd left him on his pillow. I hadn't expected him to read it, much less want to hang out with me after everything I did.

"R-Really?"

Great. I was stuttering. I never stutter. And now I do it constantly.

"Yeah, dude. I want to show you my full collection. Plus, you've got taste," he said, finishing with a wink.

It was lopsided, casual, but it caught me off guard. My face heated up—not from my quirk, just...heat.

What was that?

"Sero," Aizawa's voice rang out flatly from the front of the class, "first you sneak out past curfew, and now you're having a full conversation during my lesson. You're really pushing it."

The class chuckled. I watched the color drain from Sero's face.

"S-Sorry, Mr. Aizawa."

"I don't care. Sit down."

Sero sighed, turning back to me with a small grin and a playful wave. "See ya."

Then he walked off to his seat like he hadn't just gotten in trouble for talking to me.

Why was he still smiling? Why was he being like this?

I didn't know if he was just too nice... or secretly pranking me. The second one didn't feel likely, but I couldn't rule it out.

Still... he didn't ask about the breakup. He didn't pity me. He didn't scold me for the night before.

He just... took my offer. Complimented me. Treated me like a person.

I hadn't realized I was smiling until I felt it tug at the corner of my mouth. A small one, but real.

Maybe... today wasn't going to be so bad after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person Pov:

After three painfully slow hours of boring classes, lunchtime finally arrived.

Class 1-A flooded into the cafeteria, mingling with the rest of the U.A. students. Laughter echoed off the walls, conversations buzzed around every table, and trays clattered as everyone dug into their food and caught up with friends.

Well—almost everyone.

"You are the dumbest dumbass I have ever met!"

Kirishima winced at the explosive words, but the rest of their group barely reacted anymore. They had made the grave mistake of telling Bakugou about their punishment for sneaking out last night.

He hadn't noticed they'd been in trouble, having only returned to dorms yesterday and avoiding everyone since. That was, until Kirishima invited him to hang out after school—only for him to realize he had detention. Then Kirishima explained. And now... here they were.

"All you idiots had to do was check a damn clock! But no! Instead, you morons were dumb enough to use a FAKE ID?!"

"I know, I know, Bakugou," Kirishima muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "But for the record... I didn't want a fake ID. It was Denki's idea!"

Mina burst into laughter while Kaminari glared daggers at his red-haired friend. "Snitch."

"Sorry," Kirishima said sheepishly.

Before Denki could fire back, Bakugou turned the full force of his glare onto him. "Why the hell would you give him a fake ID in the first place?!"

"Okay, okay! In my defense, Kiri wanted to go!"

"Oh, come on! Seriously?"

As the red-and-yellow duo launched into another round of bickering and Bakugou shouted over both of them, Mina watched in amusement. Sero, however, was thoroughly done with the chaos.

First, he got a low score on his English assignment. Now he had to deal with this nonsense.

He let out a long sigh and glanced around the cafeteria. Most students were laughing and chatting like normal people—not screaming over fake IDs or calling each other dumbasses.

He quietly flicked a stray vegetable off his tray, eyes scanning the room—until they landed on someone unexpected.

There he was. His crush. Sitting alone in the middle of the cafeteria, quietly eating soba.

Sero sat up straighter, watching him with a small frown.

'Todoroki's sitting alone?'

He usually sat with Midoriya and the others, but now... right.

The breakup.

Sero realized they weren't sitting together anymore. Not even the rest of the group was with Todoroki—they were all clustered around Midoriya instead, laughing like nothing ever happened.

"Harsh much," he muttered under his breath.

His eyes shifted back to the chaos of his table, where Bakugou was now full-on strangling Denki while Mina and Kirishima tried to intervene.

Yeah... no thanks.

Sero grabbed his tray and stood, walking away from his group without a word. He didn't even glance back. Right now, he just wanted some quiet. Maybe—just maybe—he could get a real conversation out of Todoroki.

Or something more.

Taking a breath, Sero made his way across the cafeteria until he stood beside the other boy's table.

"Roki?"

Todoroki looked up slowly, blinking at the familiar face. Sero greeted him with his usual warm grin.

"Whatcha doing here?" he asked casually.

"Eating," Todoroki replied flatly, swallowing another bite of soba.

Sero chuckled. "Yeah, I figured that. I meant—why are you eating alone?"

Todoroki hesitated. His gaze drifted across the room, landing briefly on Midoriya. The boy was laughing with Uraraka, completely unaware of the eyes watching him. Something inside Todoroki cracked again.

"I felt like eating alone," he mumbled, eyes dropping back to his food.

Sero caught the shift in his posture immediately—the way his shoulders tensed, the slight dip in his tone. He regretted asking. But instead of backing off, he gave a small smile and pulled out the chair across from him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Todoroki glanced up again, his expression unreadable. "You want to sit with me?"

"Yeah," Sero said with a teasing shrug. "I need some mellow in my life."

The bi-colored teen looked over at the BakuSquad. "What about your friends?"

Sero gave a snort. "That's exactly why I want to sit here. You're my friend. And those idiots didn't even notice I left."

He watched Todoroki carefully, gauging his reaction. He didn't want to make him uncomfortable... but he also wanted to know where he stood with him.

"You... still consider me a friend?" Todoroki asked quietly.

"Of course, dude."

Todoroki lowered his eyes, fidgeting with his chopsticks. "I thought you didn't... after I, uh..."

"Todoroki."

The sharpness in Sero's tone caught him off guard. He flinched slightly and looked up. Sero wasn't smiling anymore.

Todoroki wasn't used to this side of him. He was always grinning, always playful. The serious look, the firm voice—it made him tense.

"I already told you," Sero said more softly, "it's okay. You had a bad day. I'm still your friend."

Todoroki's eyes widened.

In the past, when he lashed out during a "bad day," people would leave. Avoid him. Treat him like a problem.

Even Midoriya. Once, Todoroki had snapped at him during training, and Midoriya hadn't spoken to him for two whole days. He'd never asked why. Just accepted the apology and moved on.

But Sero?

Sero hugged him.
Comforted him.
Complimented him.
And now... he wanted to eat lunch with him.

Todoroki had always thought he understood people. But clearly, he still had a lot to learn.

"Roki?"

He blinked out of his thoughts and gave a small nod. "You can sit."

Sero's face lit up. "Thanks, man."

And just like that, Todoroki felt a little less alone.

Sero sat across from Todoroki and offered a cheerful smile. Todoroki gave him a smaller one in return—subtle, but it was there.

"There's this manga I've been reading. I think you'll like it."

"Oh? What's it called?" Todoroki asked, taking a bite of his soba.

"It's called Jujutsu Kaisen. It's insane. It starts with this kid living with his sick grandfather and then—"

Sero launched into an animated explanation of the plot, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Todoroki listened quietly, genuinely intrigued—not just by the manga, but by the fact that Sero was talking to him about something he clearly loved.

No talk about breakups. No mentions of mistakes. Just manga.

It was exactly what Todoroki needed—a distraction. A reset.

"And then the guy eats a finger, man! Like, just straight-up eats it! Who does that?!"

Todoroki blinked at Sero's sudden outburst. The older teen flushed and rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.

"M-My bad..."

But instead of pulling back, Todoroki surprised him with a small smile. "It's fine. You really like that manga, don't you?"

Sero lit up. "Yeah! It's one of my favorites. Though Demon Slayer still takes the top spot."

Todoroki set down his bowl. "I'd like to read it."

"Really?"

"You seem to enjoy it. That usually means it's worth reading."

Flustered, Sero chuckled and waved his hand. "O-Oh no, I just think it's good. The genre's pretty popular right now. Nothing too deep or anything—haha..."

Todoroki tilted his head toward Sero's lunch. "What's that?"

Sero paused mid-fangirl moment, confused. "What's what?"

"What you're eating."

"Oh!" Sero smiled, glancing at his tray. "It's an empanada de Pino. Basically a dough pocket filled with seasoned beef and beans. Super good. I'm shocked the school serves them, but I guess they're trying to represent other cultures. Not as good as my mom's, but hey."

Todoroki stared at the food with wide eyes. It looked like nothing he'd seen before—warm, golden, and somehow comforting.

Sero noticed the curiosity and chuckled. "Wanna try some?"

Todoroki hesitated. Part of him wanted to say yes. But another part—familiar and unkind—reminded him not to be a burden. He'd already taken so much of Sero's kindness.

He masked it all behind his usual stoic tone. "I don't think so."

Sero pouted dramatically. "Aw, come on, Roki~ It's good!"

"I don't know—"

"Rokiii~ It's delicious," Sero sang, teasing as he wiggled the empanada in front of him.

Todoroki leaned back slightly, uncertain. But then he caught the light in Sero's eyes—the warm, easy smile—and something inside him loosened. The tension didn't vanish, but it...quieted.

Sero sighed dramatically. "Fine, but you're totally missing out—"

"I would like a bite."

The words caught him off guard. Calm. Sincere. Not cold or detached like Todoroki usually sounded, but something warmer, almost shy. It wasn't much—but it was progress.

Sero lit up instantly and offered the food with renewed enthusiasm. "Here! Trust me, it's amazing."

Todoroki reached out slowly, and when their fingers brushed, Sero nearly combusted.

'His hand is so soft!'

While Sero spiraled into a quiet mental meltdown, Todoroki inspected the warm pastry now in his hand. It vaguely reminded him of pizza rolls—something he'd only tried once back when he was still dating Midoriya.

He looked back up. Sero was watching him with an encouraging grin and a quick nod.

"C'mon, it won't bite."

Todoroki blinked. "It's alive?"

Sero slapped a hand to his forehead. "It's an expression. Just try it."

With a slight nod, Todoroki took a cautious bite—and froze as the flavor exploded on his tongue. Savory, warm, perfectly seasoned. His eyes widened in genuine surprise.

'Whoa.'

Another bite followed. Then another. His cheeks pinked slightly from the warmth, or maybe the spice—or maybe something else entirely.

Across from him, Sero watched with an adoring, almost dreamy smile.

If anyone ever asked what he saw in Todoroki, Sero could talk for hours. It wasn't just the sharp jawline or mismatched eyes—though those didn't hurt. It was everything else: the quiet way he existed, the calm he carried, the surprising softness tucked beneath the stoic mask.

Sero was used to chaos. To noise. To friends who filled every room with volume. But Todoroki... Todoroki was stillness. Peace.

"Is it good?" Sero asked, keeping his voice light despite the storm of butterflies inside him.

Todoroki nodded with his mouth full, his cheeks still faintly flushed.

Sero smirked. "We need to get you more Hispanic food, mi amigo."

Todoroki paused, swallowing. "There's more?"

Sero chuckled. "Oh yeah. That empanada's just the beginning."

Todoroki stared at the remaining piece in his hand, then back at Sero. "There's something better than this?"

"Not better," Sero said with a shrug, "but definitely just as good."

There was a moment of quiet between them, not awkward, just... still.

Todoroki studied him, thoughtful. He had always noticed Sero—how could he not? But he'd never really seen him. Not until now. Not until things had calmed down. Until Midoriya was no longer the center of his world.

Maybe now... he could start looking at others a little closer.

Starting with Sero.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"This is so boring~"

I gave Denki the classic duh look. "Let me remind you—we're in detention. It's not supposed to be fun."

Denki whined like a kid, while Mina was glued to her phone. Honestly, I don't know why Aizawa didn't confiscate our phones, but hey, I'm not complaining.

I had one earbud in, music playing low to make this whole situation a little less painful.

I glanced over at Kirishima, who was sneakily texting someone.

Oh, look at Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes breaking the rules. Which can only mean one thing.

"Kiri," I called.

"Hm?" he answered without looking up from his phone. He sat next to me, with Mina behind him and Kaminari in front of me.

Apparently, Kiri's answer wasn't convincing enough because Mina and Kaminari both looked up from their phones, eyeing him like hawks.

"Who you texting?" Denki teased with a sly grin.

"Um... no one," Kiri replied way too fast.

"Liar," Mina whispered-shouted.

I glanced up to see our responsible teacher, Aizawa, sound asleep in his sleeping bag, totally checked out. Perfect.

I smirked and turned back to Kirishima.

"Come on, Kiri, you know you can't lie to us. It's Bakugou, isn't it?"

The second I said that, his face matched his fiery red hair. I laughed softly, and Denki gasped.

"Ohh, Kiri and Bakubro are taking it to the next level! I'm jealous."

Kirishima snapped his head toward Denki, cheeks still burning. "No! We're just bros talking."

"Bros my butt," Mina scoffed. "You two are totally more than that. You're just not telling us because Bakugou would probably beat you up if he found out."

Could be true.

"N-no! Me and Bakugou aren't like that! We're best friends!"

We all exchanged that yeah right look, then gave Kiri a soft, encouraging smile.

"Kiri, come on. You've liked this dude since day one. Time to make your move."

I'm such a hypocrite, though. I've liked Todoroki since the first month of school—but I don't give a damn.

My crush was dating the class cinnamon roll, so I have an excuse. Kiri doesn't—Bakugou's been single forever and crushing on our boy just as long.

Kirishima laid his head on the desk, sighing. "I don't know, man. Sometimes he looks like he wants to hang out with me, other times like he wants to kill me."

"Just fight him. That's how Bakugou shows affection," Denki said with a grin.

"No, dummy. Kiri needs to give Bakugou an ultimatum," Mina said, spinning around in her chair to face me like I was slow or something.

"An ultimatum?" I echoed, blinking. The word sounded so serious, like some high-stakes drama.

"Yeah! Kiri's gotta make it crystal clear: if Bakugou isn't interested, then no more friendship." She folded her arms, nodding like this was the most obvious strategy in the world.

Kirishima's face fell, his usual fiery blush dimming into a sad pout. "That sounds... so harsh."

Mina shrugged, clearly unfazed. "It's just to force him to make a choice. You don't have to actually go through with it, Kiri. It's like a power move."

I couldn't resist chiming in, puffing up my chest like a proud captain. "Hey, I read a romance manga where the main girl did exactly this, and it worked."

Denki and Kirishima both shot me looks like I'd just lost my marbles.

"What? I like romance," I said, trying to defend myself.

They just rolled their eyes—typical uncultured swine.

"And?" Mina pressed.

I snapped out of my little rant and shrugged. "Sometimes it actually works."

Denki grinned and nodded in agreement. "See?"

"But... sometimes it backfires and ruins everything," I added, watching as Kirishima groaned dramatically and flopped his head down on the desk like the weight of the world was crushing him.

I reached over and patted his back softly. "It's okay, Kiri. Bakugou totally likes you. You just gotta be patient."

Kirishima peeked one eye open and muttered, "I doubt that."

"Aww, don't give up," Mina said, pouting like she was about to cry.

I laughed at the ridiculous expression Kirishima shot her. Then, without thinking, I realized he'd lifted his head and was now giving me a sharp, challenging glare.

"You think it's funny?" he asked, voice low.

"Nah, dude. It's just obvious you two are made for each other," I said, waving my hands in the air.

"Yeah, Kiri, tell him," Denki urged.

"I don't know..." Kirishima mumbled.

"Oh come on! Tell him so you two can get married and have kids already," Mina teased, grinning wickedly.

I couldn't resist adding, "As if Bakugou would survive five minutes with a toddler."

We all burst out laughing—except Kirishima, who gave me a death glare that could melt steel.

Then he dropped a bomb.

"That's fine, but why isn't anyone talking about Sero and Todoroki?"

My eyes went wide, and I shot Kirishima a glare that could've shattered glass. He just grinned back with those damn sharky teeth.

"Oh yeah," Denki gasped.

"What was that about?" Mina asked, turning her full attention on me.

I rolled my eyes hard at Kirishima's smug expression.

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" I snapped.

"Cut the crap. We saw you ditching us at lunch," Denki said with a smug little grin.

"Yeah! And in math, you sat with him instead of me. What happened to our pack?" Mina whined right into my ear.

I groaned and buried my face in my arms on the desk. "Nothing's going on. I'm just being a friend."

"Lying isn't manly, bro," Kirishima teased, nudging me.

I flipped him off, and Denki chuckled.

"You two have been like this all day," Denki said, shaking his head.

"It's nothing," I insisted, face burning.

"They broke up two days ago, and you're making moves? Sly dog," Mina giggled.

What!?

I'm not—am I?

No! I'm just being a friend!

"No! That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why is your face red?" Mina teased, pinching my cheeks.

I gently pushed her away and rubbed my burning face. Damn, they were hot. Maybe from thinking about mi amor... or maybe from demon hands.

"I'm not doing anything," I defended weakly.

"Oh yeah? Then explain why you and Todoroki never really talked before the breakup."

I froze. Yeah... before, we barely talked. Sure, we worked on some stuff together, and he apologized after the sports festival. Small talk here and there.

Then... that was pretty much it.

Damn.

We hadn't really talked. I guess I was too busy staring at him from a distance, and he was too caught up with Midoriya. Now... since he's not with Midoriya anymore, he's actually talking to me.

Weird.

"You actually going for it?" Kirishima asked softly.

I crossed my arms and flatly said, "No."

Mina and Denki groaned in dramatic unison. Kirishima just looked confused.

"Why not?" Mina asked, tilting her head.

"Because."

"Then why are you even talking to him?" Denki pouted.

I gave him a look. "It wasn't fair how everyone ignored him while they focused on Midoriya. Yeah, Midoriya's cool and all, but he didn't get dumped. Todoroki did. I just wanted to be the person who showed him not everyone was against him."

Silence settled over us.

Guess I got too real for them.

I didn't care.

They needed to know.

No one asked Todoroki if he was okay. No one sat with him. No one noticed.

How do I know?

Because he told me. Out of nowhere, during our last class, he thanked me.

When I asked why, he said I was the only person who actually asked if he was okay today.

That hit me like a punch to the gut.

We're supposed to be a team. A family.

But apparently, that only applies to some people.

Not him.

Not me.

I sighed, staring at my hands.

Mina broke the silence, "Whoa dude... that's so manly."

I gave Kirishima a nod, but Denki couldn't resist ruining the moment.

"So... like... would you still date him though?"

"Denki," I groaned, rolling my eyes.

"Oh come on, it's a reasonable question."

"Well, I think what you're doing, Sero, is really sweet and considerate. Everyone at school knows about their breakup and Midoriya's super popular, so I know it hasn't been easy for Todoroki," Mina said quietly.

"Yeah, I've heard some crazy rumors," Kirishima frowned.

I just sighed. "This sucks. I wish I could talk to him under different circumstances."

"Don't worry, dude. If he doesn't notice you, then oh well. You deserve better," Denki said, rubbing my back.

"Thanks, man."

"Yeah, and it's cool you're there for him. Super manly," Kirishima added, striking his signature pose.

I just rolled my eyes playfully.

Then Denki spun around to face me.

"Dude, why don't you talk to those girls you met at the club?"

I snorted. "No way, dude. I don't think they were into me."

"Uh, yeah they were. They gave you their numbers for a reason, dumbass," Denki chuckled.

I shrugged, and Kirishima jumped in, "He's just being loyal."

I gave Kiri a fist bump, and Mina sighed happily from behind me.

"Man, that club was so much fun. I'm pretty sure I went viral on TikTok."

"Honestly, I don't regret going," Denki admitted proudly.

Before anyone could say anything else, the room went cold.

We all froze when we felt the unmistakable dark presence of our homeroom teacher.

"So, you regret nothing, huh?"

Denki swallowed hard, and my face turned pale as I caught the look Aizawa was giving us.

"Fine. Since you regret nothing, I guess I shouldn't be so nice."

He hissed the last part, and my heart sank.

Goddammit.

Chapter 4: Swings

Notes:

I think this might be my last short chapter… but who knows? We’ll see! Either way, I hope you enjoy it. 💫

Also, I’d really love to hear your thoughts so far—what you’re loving, what made you laugh or cringe, or anything in between. Your feedback means the world to me!

Sero's POV :

I hate Denki.

No, scratch that—I despise him.

Right now, if anyone asked if I was friends with him, I'd disown him in a heartbeat.

Because of his big mouth, we got extra work. And here's the kicker: we're on cleaning duty for the rest of our house arrests. That means Mr. Aizawa's gonna be breathing down our necks 24/7. And let me tell you—it sucks worse than a villain's quirk.

I groaned as I stepped out of the elevator, muscles aching from cleaning the entire homeroom classroom. Denki and Kirishima got stuck with the hero training areas, and Mina was stuck scrubbing the dorm's common room.

I'm totally drained.

I checked my phone—six o'clock. And homework? Yeah, still piled up like a villain's revenge. This punishment isn't just annoying—it's soul-crushing.

I can't even catch up on Demon Slayer because I'm stuck here for months, drowning in homework. Sure, I could read it online, but nah. I want that aesthetic, the feel of the physical books in my room. That's important, okay?

I was trudging toward my dorm when I spotted two people I really didn't expect to see: Midoriya and Todoroki, each holding boxes.

I promised myself I wouldn't eavesdrop anymore, but come on—

Nope.

I can't. I can't stop myself.

"Here's your things."

My eyes widened when I saw mi amor—Todoroki—handing Midoriya a box. Midoriya just nodded and passed him a box in return.

"H-Here's yours."

My beauty looked like a puppy that got kicked one too many times. It was heartbreaking. Honestly, I just wanted to kiss those cheeks and make all the sadness vanish. Damn, I'm a mess.

I snapped out of my daydream as Midoriya grabbed his box and nodded.

"Thanks, Sho—I mean, thank you, Todoroki. Uh, I—I should get going—"

"Izuku?"

Midoriya looked at Todoroki, pain etched into his expression. Mi amor opened his mouth, trembling.

"Can we at least talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Midoriya asked.

"You didn't even let me explain myself, Midoriya."

"There's nothing to talk about. I told you it wasn't working, Todoroki," Midoriya whispered.

"Midoriya—"

"No, Todoroki! I'm not good enough for you. I'm not the person you need or want. It's not going to work out!"

"But I—"

"Hey, Sero," Midoriya suddenly cut off Todoroki, spotting me. My body froze. Shit. I wasn't supposed to be here.

All I wanted was to get to my dorm and catch up on my late homework. But when I caught mi amor's eyes meeting mine, I couldn't breathe. His eyes—they were tearing me apart.

I swallowed hard and awkwardly waved. "H-Hey dudes, sorry to interrupt."

"No, no, you weren't interrupting anything," Midoriya smiled, but it was a forced, sad smile. I could tell.

Todoroki's eyes flickered with sadness for a moment before shifting to cold anger. He glared at Midoriya, who returned the stare.

Awkward doesn't even begin to cover it.

Who'd have thought our two most heroic classmates could have such a messy breakup? Or is this even messy? I don't want to find out.

"I'mma just go—"

"No," Todoroki said.

My eyes widened. The cold voice was low-key but high-key hot. My face heated up. Then I noticed the glare Todoroki shot Midoriya.

"We're going to hang out," he said, flat as ice.

Midoriya's eyes widened, his expression softening. I just stood there, confused.

Was that a question? A command? I didn't care to figure it out because I could tell Midoriya was upset but staying silent.

Both of them were taking this breakup way harder than I thought they would. I mean, they'd been together for a few months.

Todoroki grabbed his box, opened his door, and—no joke—just chucked his stuff inside before slamming the door so hard we both flinched.

I gave them a sad look.

"Um, I shouldn't—"

"Let's go," Todoroki cut me off, grabbing my arm.

I yelped, surprised, but I didn't pull away. I glanced back to see Midoriya still standing by the door, watching us leave.

I looked ahead to Todoroki. Instead of freaking out or pulling away, I was... actually enjoying it.

Finally, my crush was touching me.

Then I blinked and realized I was being dragged downstairs. I looked around and saw the others giving us weird looks. I gave them a nervous smile but Todoroki didn't let go.

Outside. Oh no.

I was about to protest when we stepped out the door.

"Whoa whoa whoa—where are we going?"

He ignored me. I sighed.

"Roki?"

Silence.

"Roki!"

Still nothing.

Now that we were outside, I figured this was it. Maybe I'm going to die today.

"Todoroki!"

"WHAT!?"

He yelled and I stumbled back. Flames flickered in his hair and ice formed under one foot while the other was aflame.

His face was pissed.

Oh shit.

I raised my hands defensively.

"Okay, okay! I know you're angry—"

"Angry is an understatement," he hissed. The flames glowed brighter and the ice beneath us started frosting the ground.

"Okay, okay! But—can we talk inside? I kinda don't want to get murdered by Mr. Aizawa yet."

His quirk dimmed a little.

I sighed, relieved. At least that was a good sign.

The sun was setting—always pretty at this time—and seeing Todoroki silhouetted in the golden light made him even more beautiful.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

He rubbed his arm, looking down in shame. I frowned.

"I... I just wanted to leave," he mumbled.

Damn. Midoriya really messed mi amor up.

This was the most emotion I'd ever seen from Todoroki. It was nice, in a way, to know he wasn't the perfect robot everyone thought he was.

I hummed. My dude seriously needed to get out of this funk. But I can't get caught.

What do I do?

Help my crush—who'd probably never like me back—or be a good student and finish my late assignments?

Decisions, decisions.

"I'm really sorry, Sero. You can go. I'm sorry I dragged you out here and yelled. I get it if you want to leave."

"Come on."

He looked at me, confused.

"Huh?"

"Listen, my dude. You need to get out. Being cooped up won't help."

"But what about your punishment?"

"We'll just say we're going to the library and you're helping me study."

I'm so sorry for lying this much, mamá.

He gave me an unsure look. I sighed and draped my arm over his shoulders, pointing at the sunset.

"Listen, my guy. You're having a rough day. You need fresh air and—most importantly—you need to have fun."

"Have fun?"

"Duh," I sang.

I don't know what got into me—where I found the guts to say that or to touch him. I was wilding today.

But seeing my crush hurt like this... I just wanted to help him break out of it.

And if getting in trouble with Mr. Aizawa is the price? I'll take it.

I'd give up anything just to see Todoroki smile at me.

"But what about your punishment?" he asked again, voice softer.

I glanced at his two-colored eyes and felt my heart skip.

I gave him a cheeky smile. "If I get in trouble, I'm not stopping."

Ugh, so cringe.

I was about to apologize when he looked ahead and whispered,

"I wouldn't mind that."

He probably didn't think I heard him, but bitch, I did—and I'm loving it.

He just admitted he likes hanging out with me. That has to be something, right? Like anything.

I don't remember smiling this much in forever.

I let go of him, grabbed his shoulders, and grinned at those beautiful eyes.

"Come on. We're gonna turn that frown upside down."

He tilted his head. "How? You gonna make me stand on my hands or something?"

I just gave him a look. "Just come on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person's POV:

Sero and Todoroki's adventure started simply—with a walk in the park. It was cliché, sure, but Sero didn't mind. Todoroki apparently liked walks, so here they were. If this was what it took to get the other teen smiling again, Sero would walk a thousand parks.

They wandered aimlessly under the golden light of a fading sun, the breeze soft, leaves crunching underfoot. Their conversation, as usual, veered into the delightfully absurd.

Sero spent five minutes passionately explaining why romance manga was the best genre ("The slow burns, forbidden romances , the angst, come on!"), while Todoroki quietly nodded with the occasional, "I see."

Then somehow—Sero had no idea how—they ended up on the topic of why eggs were called "sunny side up." That part had been a bit exhausting, especially since Todoroki had trouble grasping the metaphor.

Still, Sero found himself smiling. Todoroki's mood was lighter than it had been in weeks. He wasn't smiling a lot, but the weight on his shoulders seemed to have shifted, even just slightly.

"—And then Denki had the nerve to say Inosuke is weaker. Weaker. Like, the guy literally made his own breathing style! That's peak shonen power," Sero rambled.

Todoroki hummed in acknowledgment, but then his steps slowed until he came to a full stop. Sero, caught in his anime rant, didn't notice at first—until he looked back and saw Todoroki standing still, his expression unreadable.

"Roki?" Sero called, tilting his head.

Todoroki lifted his gaze. "I just wanted to apologize."

Sero groaned lightly, already knowing where this was going. "Not this again..."

"I mean it," Todoroki said quietly. "Midoriya was the first person who made me feel like I could be myself. He was my first real friend. My first love. It's hard... letting that go."

The vulnerability in his voice was sharp, raw. Sero's expression softened. He took a few steps back, closing the space between them, and saw the weight pressing down on Todoroki—not just the breakup, but everything else. Years of guilt and unresolved pain.

Years of feeling like he was the problem.

Todoroki didn't say the rest, but Sero could sense it: It's my fault. It's always my fault.

Without thinking, Sero gently slung an arm around Todoroki's shoulder, pulling him close. Todoroki stiffened at first, but didn't pull away.

"I know it's hard. And it's gonna stay hard for a while," Sero said softly. "But you gotta find something that makes it worth fighting through. And more importantly, find the right people to help you get there."

Todoroki's eyes widened slightly. 'The right people to help me?'

He looked up at Sero, truly seeing him for a moment. His dark eyes were warm, sincere. His smile wasn't forced. His presence wasn't loud or overwhelming—it was steady. Safe.

These were the words Todoroki didn't know he needed to hear. Words no one else had said. Not his father. Not Midoriya. Maybe not even himself.

Before he could spiral, Sero gently took his hand. Todoroki inhaled sharply, caught off guard.

"Let me be that friend that helps you, Roki," Sero said, his smile growing just a little wider.

Todoroki blinked, stunned. Sero, meanwhile, was silently screaming.

'Why did I say that?! Why did I grab his hand?! That was way too much!'

He was about to let go, retreat into awkward laughter, but Todoroki squeezed his hand back—firm, intentional.

"Okay," Todoroki whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

Sero's heart flipped so hard he thought he might actually pass out.

'This is real', he told himself. 'His hand is in mine. He's smiling. This is really happening.'

Todoroki didn't say anything else—just looked at him with a small, grateful smile. The voices in his head were still there, whispering doubt and guilt—but now, they were quieter. Less believable.

"What should we do now?" Todoroki asked, stepping closer.

Sero suddenly forgot how to breathe. Todoroki's face was right there—flawless skin, dual-colored eyes glinting in the soft sunlight, scar half-lit like gold.

"Why is your face red?" Todoroki asked innocently, head tilted like a confused cat.

Sero coughed and scrambled for an escape. "O-oh, n-no reason. Hey! Let's play on the swings!"

Internally, he high-fived himself.

'Nice save.'

They headed toward the empty playground. Todoroki glanced at the equipment with a strange look on his face—nostalgic, but not in the happy way.

He'd never really played on a playground. His father deemed it a "waste of time." Recesses were spent inside, training. Even now, the swing set looked more like a foreign artifact than a childhood memory.

Sero noticed the hesitation. "Roki?"

Todoroki blinked. "Yes?"

It came out like a question. Sero grinned anyway. "Come on."

He tugged Todoroki toward the swings and hopped onto one. "Man, this brings back memories..."

Todoroki stood beside him awkwardly.

Sero looked up. "Why are you standing? Come swing."

Todoroki sighed and slowly sat on the swing next to him, gripping the chains with a quiet uncertainty.

"When I was a kid, I used to swing so high I thought I could fly," Sero said, leaning back with a grin. "Spoiler—I couldn't. I usually landed face-first."

Todoroki let out a small laugh.

Sero's heart skipped. That sound—light and unguarded—was beautiful.

"You're not swinging," he said after a moment.

"I... don't know how," Todoroki murmured.

Sero blinked. "You're serious?"

Todoroki nodded, clearly embarrassed.

Instead of teasing, Sero stood and moved behind him. "Alright. I'll show you."

Todoroki turned his head, confused. "Show me?"

"Yep. I'm gonna push you, but while I do, move your legs back and forth. That's how you build momentum."

Sero's voice was soft, patient. Todoroki felt the gentle push against his back and held on tighter to the chains. The air rushed past his face, the wind cool but not biting. The world felt... lighter.

He began to move his legs. Back and forth. Higher and higher.

"Prueba el aire!" Sero called from behind.

( Taste the air)

Todoroki didn't know what that meant, but it sounded exhilarating.

Or at least, it felt that way. The wind whipped through his hair, brushing cool against his cheeks. The swing beneath him soared higher, lifting him into a sky that felt just a little more endless. His heart rose with every arc, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the heaviness in his chest melted away.

He wasn't thinking about his past. He wasn't thinking about pain, mistakes, or what he didn't have.

He wasn't thinking at all.

And that freedom? It wasn't just the swing.

It was because Sero was there—with him. Present, patient, smiling. It was Sero's warmth and care that made Todoroki feel safe enough to let go. To just be.

Behind him, Sero watched with hands tucked into his pockets, his grin stretching so wide it hurt. Todoroki's laughter was real—unguarded and radiant—and his smile lit up the entire park like sunrise.

'Brillas tan brillante como las estrellas, mi amor.'

(You shine as bright as the stars, my love.)

"You're getting the hang of it!" he called.

And Todoroki, cheeks flushed and eyes shining, looked back at him with a smile that made the world feel right.

Sero felt like his chest might burst.

"Oh look at you, up there!" he teased.

"I'm going higher than you," Todoroki replied, eyes glinting.

"Oh? Is that a challenge?" Sero shot back with a mock glare.

"What if it is?"

Sero laughed as he kicked off the ground. "It's on!"

And for a while, they just played—two teenagers swinging higher and higher into the evening sky, chasing a feeling neither of them knew they needed so badly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

He beat me.

Like, absolutely wrecked me. Not even in a cool or close way. Nah—Todoroki destroyed me.

But to be fair, he did use his ice quirk to boost himself on the swings, and I didn't even know we were allowed to use quirks in this unofficial swing competition, so really? I was operating at a disadvantage.

Totally unfair.

Lowkey pissed.

But... whatever.

Because the real win wasn't the swing match.

It was the way he smiled.

No—smiles. Plural.

The guy smiled at me five times.

Laughed twice.

And not those awkward polite laughs, either. I'm talking genuine, eyes-squinting, shoulders-shaking kind of laughs.

And I was the reason.

Me.

I made Shoto Todoroki laugh like that.

That's not even the best part. The best part? He looked happy. Not stiff, not bored, not like he was forcing himself to be social. He looked like a regular teenage guy, having fun in a park with someone he trusted.

I got to see that.

I caused that.

Life? Pretty damn great right now.

We spent almost two hours just goofing off—talking about random stuff, wandering around, joking about quirks, and laughing over bad puns. It was simple. Easy. Real.

I found out he's never had a taco before. Or Red Bull. Which is just... criminal, honestly. That's definitely getting added to the Todoroki Experience to-do list. My boy needs to live a little.

And then, because fate really wanted to test me, we got ice cream.

His go-to flavor? Strawberry vanilla.

Which—first of all—is adorable. Because it totally matches his hair.

Meanwhile, I got regular vanilla, and he had the audacity to call my choice basic.

Basic? Me?

I've got flavor. Personality. Spice.

But I let it slide. He's cute. I'm weak. It is what it is.

Anyone else watching us tonight would probably think we were on a date.

But we weren't.

We're just two bros, hanging out. Helping Roki get his mind off Midoriya. Talking. Swinging. Eating ice cream under the stars.

Yup.

Just bros.

...

God, I don't want this night to end.

Just being around him like this—watching him open up, seeing the way his eyes soften when he's relaxed—it's enough to make a guy fall harder.

And yeah. I said it.

I'm in love with him.

I thought it was just a crush. A passing thing. But after tonight? Nah.

I've fallen deep. The kind of deep where even hearing him say my name feels like music. Where one smile from him makes my whole chest feel too full.

As I glanced over, I caught him slowly licking his ice cream, like he was trying to figure it out one careful taste at a time. I chuckled to myself. He looked like a confused cat trying its first treat. Adorable.

I was mid-star admiring when I noticed something.

His hands were shaking.

So were his shoulders.

Wait—was he cold?

I looked him over. Thin sweatpants. A T-shirt. No jacket.

Right. We changed out of our uniforms before cleaning earlier, and I guess I didn't realize how chilly it got.

Even the guy with ice powers can feel cold sometimes.

Without a word, I pulled off my hoodie and offered it to him.

"Here, Roki."

He turned to me, confusion flickering across his face. And those eyes—man, those eyes.

"What for?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.

I nearly choked.

"B-Because you're trembling," I said, trying not to sound as flustered as I felt.

Please don't let this be weird.

Please don't let me ruin this.

He blinked. "You don't have to—"

"Come on, Roki," I cut in, flashing a wink. "Can't have you freezing on me."

Smooth, Sero. Real smooth.

He just stared at me. A little flame flickered on his left side—nothing wild, just enough to cast a soft orange glow on his face. He didn't look mad. Or weirded out.

He looked... moved.

Then he held out his ice cream.

"Will you hold this while I put it on?"

OH. MY. GOD.

I nodded way too fast. "Of course."

We swapped—ice cream for hoodie—and I watched him try to pull it over his head.

It took some effort. A few tiny grunts. A little twist of his torso.

It was precious.

The hoodie swallowed him. Like, totally engulfed him. He looked tiny in it—his usually sharp, well-defined frame lost in baggy folds. The sleeves hung past his hands, forming those little "sweater paws" Mina always gushes about.

I've never seen anything cuter in my entire life.

He pulled up the sleeves, then reached for his ice cream. "Thank you," he said softly.

I blushed like an idiot. "N-No problem."

We kept walking.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward—it was peaceful. Comfortable. The kind that only happens when you're with someone who makes you feel safe.

I kept sneaking glances at him.

He kept licking his ice cream like it was some kind of science experiment.

I giggled. My new favorite thing? Watching Todoroki eat sweets.

I looked up at the sky, letting the stars ground me again. They were beautiful—scattered like glitter across velvet.

But they weren't the most beautiful thing here.

That was walking right beside me.

So close, in fact, that our arms touched.

Like—actually touched.

I froze.

Was he... leaning into me?

He didn't pull away.

I smiled so wide I thought my face might split in two.

Then he spoke.

"Tonight was fun."

My heart stopped.

He was still looking at his ice cream, but then—he glanced up.

And those eyes?

They were soft. Warm. Honest.

"I want to do this again."

...

I was done for.

Completely and utterly ruined by this man.

But somehow, I managed to wink at him through the chaos in my chest.

"Of course, Roki. You're not getting rid of me that easy."

He smiled again.

And this time?

His eyes sparkled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

After that much-needed, calming walk and a surprisingly easy flow of conversation, Sero and I finally made it back to the dorms.

A part of me wished the night didn't have to end.

Spending time with him was... different. In the best possible way. There were no heavy thoughts, no pressure to perform, no lingering pain from Midoriya. Just Sero—his warmth, his jokes, his ease. It was like stepping out of a storm into a quiet, sunny field. I didn't even realize how much weight I'd been carrying until it wasn't there anymore.

I didn't want that feeling to disappear. But reality was waiting for us. We were cutting it close with curfew, and Sero, unfortunately, was still grounded.

And waiting for us right inside the dorm entrance?

Mr. Aizawa.

Naturally.

His arms were crossed, expression unreadable—but his capture weapon was already loosely in hand. Sero let out a low groan beside me. I braced myself.

He was not pleased.

Currently, he was interrogating us both, and Sero had been restrained mid-sentence with the familiar fabric of our teacher's binding cloth.

"Now, I find it very hard to believe you were helping this one study," Mr. Aizawa said, tightening the grip on Sero, who squawked in protest.

"Ouch—harsh much?!"

The cloth tightened again, earning a strangled cough from Sero. "OW—!"

"Tell me where you actually were," Aizawa said sharply, eyes narrowed.

I stepped forward, calm as always—even though I was lying straight through my teeth. "Mr. Aizawa. I was helping him. We were in the library."

His eyebrow rose. "Oh really?" he replied flatly. "Then tell me—what subject were you studying? Which section of the library? For how long? Where are your books?"

His voice was ice-cold, and his gaze snapped back to Sero, who was too tightly bound to answer.

"I'm dying!" Sero wheezed dramatically.

"Answer the questions and I'll consider letting you live," our teacher deadpanned.

Something in me clicked. Maybe it was the protectiveness. Maybe it was gratitude. Or maybe... it was something more. I stepped forward again and lied without flinching.

"English," I said evenly. "We were at the second section of the library, studied for two hours, left our books there. Then we got something to eat before heading back."

Sero gave me a wide-eyed look over his shoulder, but I ignored it. He didn't deserve to get in trouble—not after everything he did for me tonight. He didn't owe me anything, yet he gave me his time, his attention, his comfort. If someone was going to take the heat, it should be me.

Aizawa clicked his tongue. There was a long pause. Then, finally, the cloth loosened, dropping Sero unceremoniously onto the floor.

With a groan, he faceplanted into the carpet. I knelt beside him and helped him up.

"I'll let him slide this time," our teacher muttered as he turned to leave.

But before he walked away, he added over his shoulder, "If I find out either of you are lying, I will end the both of you."

Sero gulped audibly. I simply blinked. It was hard to tell if he was joking. Honestly, I wasn't sure he knew either.

As Aizawa disappeared down the hallway, Sero sighed like a man freshly escaped from death.

"Oh my god, thank you, Roki. I thought he was actually gonna murder me."

"It wouldn't be fair if you got in trouble because of me," I said honestly.

Sero hadn't just distracted me—he'd reminded me what it felt like to laugh again. To exist outside of heartbreak.

"Anyway," he said after a beat, rubbing the back of his neck. "I should really go do some homework."

I blinked, surprised. "Is it a lot?"

He laughed sheepishly. "Uh... yeah. I've got a couple of late assignments. And then the new stuff on top of that..."

I frowned. I didn't mean to cause him more trouble.

Before I could apologize, he spoke again. "Hey, Roki?"

I looked up.

"You could, y'know, read some of my manga while I work. Could use the company."

I stared at him, surprised.

He... still wanted me around?

He wasn't bored? Annoyed? Tired of me?

I shook my head gently, unsure. "I couldn't do that."

He looked a little disappointed, but quickly covered it with a grin. "Ah, right. You're probably tired. I get it. I'll leave ya be."

The words hit harder than expected.

I'd asked myself before if I was clingy. If that was what pushed Midoriya away. If needing someone meant being a burden. Maybe it was happening again. Maybe I was pushing too hard. Maybe that's why it hurt seeing Sero walk away.

But then—

"Roki?" he turned again, smiling.

"Do you, uh... want to hang out again tomorrow?"

I froze. My face flared hot, and a small burst of fire escaped my left side before I could control it. This has been happening lately, and I hated that I couldn't stop it. Couldn't figure out why.

"Roki?"

I blinked out of it and nodded. "I would like that."

His smile grew even brighter. "Awesome! Now I really gotta finish my homework."

"Why?"

"Duh! So we can hang out without me stressing over assignments."

I found myself smiling back. He was... so genuinely kind. After everything. After my mess. He still wanted to spend time with me.

Then I remembered something and glanced down at myself—

I was still wearing his hoodie.

Black, oversized, soft. It swallowed me in the best way.

"Oh," I murmured, tugging gently at the hem. "I should return this."

I began to pull it over my head, fingers hesitating at the collar—but before I could even get far, he waved a hand, casual and breezy as always.

"Nah. Keep it."

I blinked. My hands paused mid-motion. "What?"

"You can keep it," he said again, easy, like he was offering a stick of gum instead of something that had just rooted itself deep in my chest. "I've got, like, a thousand of 'em. And, well..." He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye as his lips tilted into a crooked grin. "You look like you like that one."

I stared at him, unsure what to say—unsure if I even could say anything.

Because... I did like it.

More than I expected to. More than I thought I would. The fabric was soft, yeah—but it was more than that. It smelled like him. Like citrus shampoo and something faintly sweet. Something unguarded. It reminded me of earlier—of his arms around me in a hug that came out of nowhere, but had landed somewhere deep. A moment I hadn't asked for, but hadn't wanted to end.

It felt like safety.

Like maybe someone saw me—even when I wasn't at my best.

Like I wasn't just... tolerated.

It felt like something mine.

"Are you sure?" I asked quietly, fingers curling into the hem like it might vanish if I let go.

He gave me this look—fond, a little lopsided—and reached out to ruffle my hair. The motion was soft, slow, not mocking. Familiar.

"Of course, Roki. Like I said, it's not a big deal."

But it was.

To me, it was huge.

No one had ever given me something that small and made it feel that important. Something that said, you matter. Not because you're powerful. Not because of who your parents are. Not because of your potential. Just... because you're you.

Before I could find the words to thank him—any words at all—he glanced at the clock and groaned.

"Crap, it's getting late! I'll see ya tomorrow, Roki!"

And just like that, he turned and jogged toward the elevator, hoodie sleeves bouncing at his sides, his laugh echoing faintly behind him as the doors slid shut.

I stood there for a while.

Alone in the common room, staring at the space he'd just filled.

And then I looked down again at the hoodie—black and soft, sleeves too long, the faint print of a red-and-blue figure crouched across the front.

"Spider-Man," I whispered to myself.

Some movie the others had dragged me to last month. I hadn't cared about it then—hadn't paid attention, hadn't tried to. But maybe... maybe I'd give it another shot.

If Sero liked it...

Maybe I'd missed something worth seeing.

He didn't have to give me this. He probably thought I was cold. He probably didn't know how much I'd been spiraling earlier, how close I'd come to snapping under the weight of everything. But still... he'd given me something warm.

And I liked that feeling.

So I turned and climbed the stairs quietly. The dorm was calm, muffled in late-evening hush. It was nearly 9:30—most of the others were in their rooms by now. Some laughing faintly through the walls. Others silent.

As I passed by his door, I noticed a faint strip of light shining from underneath it.

I didn't mean to smile.

But I did.

Then I reached my own room.

Opened the door.

"Seriously..."

Ice still coated the walls—thin layers glittering with frost, sharp in the low lamplight. My bedspread was half-frozen in a lopsided heap, books scattered, the nightstand crooked. Everything felt... off. A physical echo of the storm I'd barely kept down.

I stood there for a moment. Just breathing.

Then I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and raised one hand. Slowly, gently, I warmed the air—melted the frost until water dripped softly to the floor.

The hoodie sleeves slipped over my hands again. I kept having to push them up.

But I didn't push them up very far.

Because... I didn't want to.

They felt like armor. Like comfort. Like the last part of the day that hadn't felt like a failure.

Eventually, the room looked livable again. Not perfect. But quieter. Gentler.

Like I could exist here without unraveling.

I sank onto my bed with a sigh, dragging the hoodie down over my knees. My body ached—training had taken more than I meant to give. My emotions had taken even more.

But despite it all... I smiled.

Because he had made it bearable.

He had seen me. Even when I couldn't look at myself.

I know I'm not easy to be around. I close off. I don't always speak. Sometimes I get so caught in my own head I forget how to reach out.

But maybe... maybe if I don't mess this up—if I don't pull away—maybe it doesn't have to be like that forever.

Not with him.

Still wrapped in his hoodie, I curled beneath the covers, letting my eyes fall shut.

I buried my face in the sleeve.

It smelled like him.

Warmth. Laughter. Orange peels. Late summer.

It smelled like belonging.

And as sleep pulled me under, I clung to the sound of his voice in my memory—

"I'll see ya tomorrow, Roki."

And for once, I believed him.

Chapter 5: Chocolate

Notes:

Tehehehehehehehehehehehe!

I love this ship so much!

Also random question, why is finding Sero merch so hard?!

Third Person POV:

Another day, another typical class session with the UA gang.

Nothing new, really—just Class 1-A supposed to be working on an assignment. Supposed to being the key phrase. Most of them were either chatting, zoning out, or doing literally anything else while waiting for their next class to start.

Iida, ever the responsible class rep, had tried valiantly to get everyone back on task. But when that failed, he went to Mr. Aizawa for backup—only to be waved off by the half-asleep teacher who muttered something along the lines of "figure it out yourself."

So here we were.

But we're not going to focus on everyone. Not today.

Today, our spotlight is on one very lovable tape-wielding boy currently being pestered by his over-curious friends.

"Sero. What the hell happened last night?" Denki hissed, leaning in like they were planning a prison break.

Sero didn't even look up from his notes. "What are you talking about, Kaminari?"

Denki scoffed. "Um, hello? Last night? Ring any bells?!"

"Yeah, don't play dumb," Kirishima added, puffing out his cheeks in mock frustration.

Sero sighed, dragging his pen across the paper lazily. "I got back from cleanup duty, went out for a bit, came back to the dorms, and then pulled an all-nighter catching up on homework. The end."

Both Kirishima and Denki groaned, clearly unimpressed.

Suddenly, Mina popped into view like a pink blur of chaos.

"Cut the crap, Sero. If you don't spill what actually happened, I—"

"Sero?"

He froze.

His hand stalled mid-word as he turned slowly to his left—Midoriya was watching him, brow furrowed with curiosity.

' Oh, crap. '

The memories came flooding back. Everything that happened yesterday—all of it—and the realization that Midoriya, Midoriya, was sitting right there next to him while his friends screamed like they were in a soap opera?

Yeah. Panic mode: engaged.

Sero chuckled nervously and tried to play it cool. "Oh hey, Midoriya. What's up?"

Denki and Kirishima exchanged a look that said 'He's definitely not playing it cool'.

Sero was sweating.

Why was he sweating?

It wasn't like he and Todoroki had done anything scandalous. They just went to the park. Got ice cream. Laughed a little. Talked.

Sure, Todoroki's ex had appeared out of nowhere and dragged Midoriya into a heated argument right in front of Sero's dorm, but... yeah. Totally normal night.

Midoriya scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um... I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. Things kinda got... heated."

Sero waved a hand. "Nah, man. It's all good. I probably shouldn't have been around anyway. I should've given you guys space."

"N-No, it was wrong of us to do that near your room or put you in that kind of situation."

"Really, it's fine," Sero chuckled. "Don't stress about it."

Midoriya gave a tiny sigh of relief, visibly relaxing before offering a small, sincere smile.

"Thanks. And... sorry again."

Sero nodded, brushing it off easily. "No worries."

But then—

"Sero?"

He froze again.

That voice—that voice—instantly pulled his attention.

He turned to find Todoroki approaching, calm and unreadable as ever. But Sero's eyes widened when the bi-colored boy sat on the edge of his desk, looking down at him with those striking mismatched eyes.

Sero's brain short-circuited.

'Holy shit, holy shit, holy sh—'

"Sero," Todoroki repeated, tilting his head slightly.

Sero snapped out of it, cheeks flushing bright red. "S-Sorry. Uh, hey, what's up, Roki?"

Todoroki blinked, glanced up at the ceiling, then pointed. "The ceiling."

Midoriya tried to stifle a snort. Denki and Kirishima gawked like they were watching a live rom-com. Sero, meanwhile, burst into a small laugh.

"Damn, man," he said, grinning. "That was actually good."

Todoroki tilted his head again, confused. He hadn't meant to be funny. But if it made Sero laugh... maybe it was a good thing?

"Roki?" Sero asked gently.

Todoroki blinked again. "Oh. Um... I came over to ask how you were doing."

'Why did I come over here? And why am I being so weird?' Todoroki mentally groaned.

Sero, ever the teasing one, gave him a lopsided smile.

"Oh, I'm great. How did you sleep last night, Roki~?"

Todoroki's eyes widened slightly. The hoodie. The hug. Sleeping wrapped in Sero's scent. His cheeks flushed with the memory.

He looked away quickly. "It was... alright."

Sero smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Meanwhile, Denki and Mina were clinging to each other, vibrating with excitement. Kirishima watched the scene proudly, like a parent watching their kid take their first romantic step. Midoriya glanced away, eyes dimming slightly before quietly returning to his work.

Denki noticed. He frowned, but said nothing.

Then Mina jumped in. "So, Todoroki! You wanna sit with us at lunch?"

Todoroki hesitated. Part of him wanted to eat alone. Another part... maybe wanted to eat just with Sero.

Before he could answer, Denki added, "C'mon, man. It's not that bad. And let's be real, Sero wouldn't mind if you sat with us."

Sero gave him a look. Mina clapped her hand over Denki's mouth.

"I promise I'll keep this idiot in line," she said sweetly.

Denki muffled a "rude," while Kirishima grinned and asked, "So, what do you say?"

Todoroki opened his mouth to decline.

But then he saw Sero looking at him—those rich brown eyes shining with something that made his heart skip.

He didn't know why he felt like this.

He didn't know what this was.

But it was there, and it was real.

"...Sure."

Sero's smile lit up his entire face.

Kirishima fist-pumped. "Awesome!"

Todoroki found himself smiling back, just a little.

There was something about Sero's smile that made it impossible not to.

Sero noticed. He leaned forward, smirking again. "Aw, Roki~ Does spending time with me make you smile~?"

Todoroki's face went from pink to crimson. "N-No!"

"Aw man, Sero made him blush and stutter," Denki whooped. "He's totally telling the truth!"

Laughter erupted.

Todoroki, red as a tomato, stood up abruptly and stomped back to his seat. Sero waved dramatically.

"I'll wait for you at lunch, Roki~!"

Todoroki huffed, cheeks still burning.

Sero winked.

And when he turned back around, his friends were all smirking at him like sharks circling their prey.

"...What?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

Sero is such a tease.

Why does he say those things?

No — why did he say those things to me?

I'm honestly confused. Why did I feel so embarrassed when he was teasing me? Normally, I don't get flustered that easily. But with Sero... he manages to do it without even trying. Why?

And what even made me go over there in the first place?

I wasn't planning to. I was supposed to be doing homework, getting my notes ready for class. It was all fine, quiet, until I heard Sero's voice, loud and clear, talking to — well, him.

Midoriya.

That had to be the reason. But it's none of my business. Midoriya and I aren't together anymore. I shouldn't care that much.

And yet, seeing Sero smile at him... it bothered me more than it should have.

But here's the weird part: I wasn't angry at Sero. Not really. My frustration was directed mostly at Midoriya — and maybe a little at myself. It's so confusing.

Why did my body move before my mind could stop it? I got up without thinking, like some part of me just wanted to be near Sero. Was it resentment toward Midoriya? Or did I just want to talk to Sero? I don't know. It's all so tangled inside my head.

And then there's the burning in my face. My cheeks felt hot, almost aflame, and yet I wasn't even activating my quirk. That's troubling.

Have I ever felt like this before? I don't think so... or maybe I have?

Wait.

I do remember, when I was younger, my face would sometimes get warm like this. But it only happened when I was excited or uncomfortable. I never really understood why — maybe it was a fever? Or something else.

And now it's happening again.

I think it happened months ago, back before I started dating Midoriya. Whenever we hung out or studied, my face would get hot. Especially during training. I thought I was allergic to him or something.

But Uraraka and Tsuyu told me it wasn't that. They said it was something else, a kind of feeling I guess. But I never quite understood what.

Now, it's happening again. But to who? It can't be Sero, right?

I mean, sure, whenever he teases me or calls me "Roki," my face heats up. And I get flames when I lose control. I hate not understanding these things — it's frustrating.

Maybe I should ask Midoriya about this...

No. I can't.

I don't think I can look at him anymore. Not after everything. Our relationship is broken — or maybe it was never really whole.

I loved him. No, I still love him. But he makes me so angry.

I just wanted to be there for him, to spend time with him, but all he cared about was training, working late, sneaking out at night to train more. I barely saw him. Not really.

You'd think since we worked at the same hero agency, we'd see each other every day. But no — he was busier than ever. Every time I tried to avoid the old man and find Midoriya, he was gone, off doing something else.

I get it. He wants to be a hero. I do too. But I also want someone — someone to love and who loves me back. Someone to share life with.

I thought Midoriya was that.

He used to bring me so much happiness, but now, he just wears me out. I tried so hard to do things right. I worried about him. I was there to keep him from pushing himself too far, but I never said anything.

Maybe I was just holding him back.

Maybe he never wanted this relationship as much as I did.

If that's true, why did he say yes to dating me at all? Why did he agree if he didn't care enough?

I thought he cared.

My thoughts spiral until the bell rings.

I look up to see classmates packing their things, heading out.

Tuesday — hero training day.

I sigh, gathering my stuff, not in the mood for it at all.

And then... that voice rings in my ears again.

"Oh, Roki~"

I freeze. My cheeks start warming again, irritatingly so.

It's not Sero's fault. I just need to get better at controlling my quirk.

Suddenly, an arm wraps around my shoulders.

I jump a little — then relax when I smell his calming scent.

I look up to see Sero smiling at me, that familiar pearly white grin.

Why does he smile all the time? Is he sick?

"Why are you moving so slow today, man?" he asks.

I think about the person I love who doesn't love me anymore.

"Just tired," I mumble.

Sero has done so much for me already — he doesn't need to hear all my problems.

"Aw, come on Roki, it's hero training day. You know what that means~"

I stare at him blankly. "What?"

"It's Spider Sero time!"

I blink. "Spider Sero?"

"Yeah, man! I can swing and do actual hero stuff! My agency's been boring lately, so with training maybe I'll finally get some action!"

I admire his enthusiasm. Wish I could feel the same.

I start gathering my things again while Sero leans against my desk.

"Roki?"

"Yeah?"

My face heats up again.

"You don't have to eat lunch with me and my friends."

I look up, surprised. He's giving me a soft look.

I shake my head. "It's not a problem, Sero."

Why am I saying that? I wanted to eat alone earlier. Now I'm saying this?

What's going on with me?

"Come on, Roki. I know you like a quiet lunch, and my friends are the opposite of quiet," he chuckles.

I frown. He knows me too well.

"Plus," he murmurs, "I like it when it's just us."

A small gasp escapes me. He likes it when it's just us too?

I thought it was just me.

When I meet his warm chocolate eyes, my face blazes again, this time on the left side — a familiar, strange fire.

Why is this happening? Why is my heart pounding? Why is my face burning?

What is this?

He smiles and wraps his arm around my shoulder.

"Let's just chill outside and leave the noise inside for lunch, Roki."

I glance down, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. Why? I miss those eyes already.

"I... I'd like that," I whisper.

"Awesome! Let's go to hero training. We wouldn't want Mr. Aizawa almost killing me again."

I look up, catching his grin. My chest pounds that strange rhythm again, but I just nod.

"Okay."

"Great! Let's go!"

We walk out together. He talks animatedly about the manga he's reading and recommends some for me.

I never cared for romance manga before, but the way he describes it makes it sound interesting.

Sometimes he tosses in phrases in Spanish. At first, it sounded strange, but now it feels... beautiful. The way he mixes it with the story makes me want to read it more.

I tell him I want to borrow some sometime, and he says I can come over anytime.

During the conversation, my face isn't burning like before — just a warm, pleasant glow on my cheeks.

It's not uncomfortable. It's nice.

It's nice to have someone talk to me. Especially now, after everything with Midoriya.

Besides Sero and his friends, no one else has really spoken to me. At first, I didn't mind. But I felt so alone.

I guess now, with Sero, I don't feel so alone anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"Okay, class. For today's hero training, we're doing combat drills," Aizawa announced. "You'll take turns sparring, and afterward, we'll go over your mistakes as a group."

Cue the groans. I swear half the class collectively died inside. I, however, was buzzing.

Finally—finally—I could use my quirk for more than just passing paperwork to my mentor or running errands for the agency. I was ready to show everyone, especially Mr. Aizawa, just how much I'd grown.

And maybe... I could impress Todoroki.

That thought alone put the stupidest grin on my face.

Imagine it now: Todoroki looking at me with that soft, thoughtful expression, watching me pull off one of my smooth moves.

"Oh, Sero, your moves are so cool~"

Obviously, mi amor~

"Sero, mi amor, you're muy guapo."

Gracias, mi cielo. You're even more stunning.

"Sero~"

Yes, mi amor?

"Sero~"

Yes?

"SERO!"

I blinked, snapping out of my fantasy just in time to see half the class staring at me. Some of them were straight-up laughing. And, yep, there was Mr. Aizawa—full-on death glare mode.

Crap.

I followed his gaze and spotted Todoroki giving me a slightly worried look. My face flushed so fast I thought I might explode.

Smooth, Sero. Real smooth.

Totally nailed the "impress your crush" plan.

I gave him a quick wave like, Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, just fantasizing about you saying hot things to me in Spanish, but of course, Denki was right next to me and already snorting with laughter.

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up," I hissed.

He whined dramatically like I'd stabbed him, and Aizawa sighed like his soul was trying to exit his body.

"Since Sero seems distracted and clearly wasn't listening," he said, voice as dry as the Sahara, "he can go first."

My stomach dropped. What?

No.

No no no no no.

"Since our last hero training exercise—" he continued, monotone as always.

Please don't say it.

"—we stopped after Hagakure."

No no no no no—

"That makes it Bakugou's turn."

FUUUUUUUCK!

I'm going to die.

Like, not just metaphorically. Bakugou's going to kill me. Blast me into orbit. Reduce me to tape-flavored ashes.

Why today, of all days? Why now? Did I offend the universe?

All I wanted to do was look cool in front of Todoroki. Hold his hand. Maybe kiss him under a tree or some sappy shit like that. Not get obliterated in front of him with my lungs in one corner and dignity in another.

And worst of all? I haven't even had my first kiss yet.

This is it. I'm going to die. And it's going to be so humiliating.

Thanks, Aizawa. Appreciate the public execution.

"Tape Face, you're mine," hissed the very reason I was about to meet my early, fiery demise.

I turned my head slowly, dread pooling in my gut. Bakugou was standing there, that unhinged glint in his eye turned up to eleven. His aura shifted from "pissed off" to "I will end your bloodline" in seconds. And that smile—twisted, maniacal—yeah, this guy was not just a student. He was a walking war crime.

I gulped. "Please, Mr. Aizawa! I don't want to die!" I begged, voice cracking just a little.

Some of my classmates started laughing, but I was dead serious. I had zero plans to get launched into orbit today.

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced toward the one person who could maybe ground me in this nightmare—Todoroki. My beautiful, bi-colored angel.

And of course, he still had that eternally bored look on his face. Like I wasn't about to be turned into crispy tape spaghetti. He didn't even blink.

Aizawa? Sipping coffee like this wasn't a student's execution but a casual Tuesday.

"Well, you should've been paying attention," he said flatly.

I groaned dramatically as Kirishima threw an arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry, dude. You totally got this. I believe in your awesome skills."

At least someone believed in me before my untimely death.

I was about to thank him, but I suddenly felt it—the burn of two angry, murder-charged eyeballs digging into the back of my skull. I turned slightly, just enough to catch Bakugou glaring at me like I'd just insulted his entire bloodline.

I yelped and immediately whipped back around, whispering into Kirishima's ear, "Kiri, please tell your boy toy not to kill me."

"SERO!" he shouted, his face going beet red as he shoved me.

I laughed, despite everything. Our red riot puppy getting all flustered never failed to lift my mood—even when death was literally marching toward me in combat boots.

Still laughing, I felt that same killer aura darken again. Only this time, it was worse. Like double murder. Like, "I'm going to make your funeral into performance art" kind of energy.

I didn't even have to turn around. I knew Bakugou was practically breathing explosions at me now.

Okay, maybe I did piss him off more.

Damn, for someone not trying to steal his man, he sure acted like I was.

Relax, Bakugou. I've got my own man—he just doesn't know he's mine yet.

"Enough. Sero and Bakugou, head to the training area. The rest of you, follow me," Aizawa ordered.

As the rest of the class started filing out, I caught Mina and Denki throwing me the most pitiful looks imaginable.

"Damn, dude. You're a goner," Denki said with a thumbs-up that felt more like a farewell.

"Thanks, Denki," I grumbled with a bitter smile.

Mina bounced up and hugged me dramatically around the neck. "Aww, don't worry, Sero. I'll play your entire playlist at your funeral. I'll even make a slideshow. Full edits. Emotional music."

I sniffled dramatically. "Thanks, Mina. You're a real one."

She squeezed tighter before letting go. Up ahead, Kirishima had gone over to talk to Bakugou—probably trying to calm the murder down a notch. Not that it helped.

Bakugou said something that made Kiri flinch like a kicked puppy, his smile fading instantly. He looked so sad that I almost forgot about my own imminent doom.

Almost.

I tilted my head. "What the hell did he say?"

I scanned the group again until I spotted Todoroki walking alongside Tokoyami. I called his name.

Nothing.

Again—no reaction.

I frowned. He probably didn't hear me, I told myself, but it didn't stop the tiny sting in my chest. I just... I kinda wanted to talk to him. Before I died, you know?

"TAPE FACE! HURRY YOUR DUMBASS UP!"

I winced as Bakugou's voice shook the whole room. He was already waiting near the training area, smoke curling from his palms, rage practically vibrating off him like a threat.

Why was he mad at me?! I didn't sign up to be his punching bag today!

Still, I started walking toward him, shoulders slumped in resignation.

I mean, realistically? I knew I wasn't going to win against Bakugou. The dude was a freaking force of nature. But that didn't mean I was just going to roll over and let him blow me up. I wasn't here to give up.

I'm here to be a hero.

And heroes don't run from danger.

Even when that danger has spiky hair and sweat that explodes.

...And no, not confessing to Todoroki before this doesn't count as cowardice.

That's just strategy. Timing. Emotional pacing.

Hero work. Totally hero work.

I cracked my neck and narrowed my eyes.

Let's do this!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person   POV :

The atmosphere around Class 1-A was thick with tension as they filed into the observation deck, their eyes drawn to the massive screen that loomed over Ground Beta. Today's match wasn't just any sparring session—it was a showdown between Bakugou and Sero, and no one could pretend it was going to be an easy watch.

The Bakusquad felt it in their bones. This pairing... didn't sit right.

Sure, it was for training, but watching friends go head-to-head—especially these two—wasn't something they looked forward to. Kirishima in particular looked uncomfortable, his arms crossed tightly, brow furrowed. Normally he'd cheer Bakugou on without hesitation, but today was different.

Especially after what happened earlier.

Before the match, Kirishima had tried to wish Bakugou good luck—something simple, just a "You got this, man." But Bakugou had snapped.

Told him to fuck off.

Right out of nowhere.

Kirishima had backed off, sure, but the sting lingered. What the hell had he done to deserve that?

Still, now wasn't the time to dwell. He could unpack that later. Right now, he was just worried Bakugou would lose control—again. And Sero? Sero had been training hard lately, but Bakugou was on a different playing field.

Down on the battlefield, Sero was bouncing on the balls of his feet, tape flexing at his elbows.

He was excited.

Sure, he hadn't been in a real fight since that island mission last month, but the adrenaline buzzing through him was electric. A part of him was nervous—he wasn't stupid, after all. He knew Bakugou could wipe the floor with him.

But he wasn't going to back down.

He had something to prove.

He wanted to show Todoroki that he could be just as much a hero as Midoriya. That he was worth watching. Worth seeing.

Last night's swing session had stuck with him. The way Todoroki smiled... the way he looked at him—it gave Sero the push he didn't know he needed. He'd decided right then and there: he was going to give this everything he had.

For Todoroki.

"Alright, boys. You may begin," came Aizawa's deadpan voice over the loudspeaker.

Sero opened his mouth, aiming to throw out a classic one-liner. "Well, Bakubro, I guess it's time for us to—"

BOOM.

The ground near him exploded before he even finished the sentence.

"HEY! I wasn't done!" Sero shouted, launching himself upward with a tape shot. He landed on a fake streetlight with practiced ease.

"Shut the hell up and fight me!" Bakugou barked, already charging up another blast.

Sero rolled his eyes. "Okay then. How about... THIS!"

With a flick of his arms, he launched multiple tape strands straight at Bakugou's face. The blonde cursed as his mouth was instantly sealed, then his nose, his eyes—

He clawed at the rapidly binding tape, but Sero just kept it coming, jumping from pole to pole with smooth agility. In a matter of seconds, Bakugou's whole head looked like a duct-tape mummy.

Up in the stands, the crowd was stunned.

"Damn, who knew Bakugou would actually shut up," Denki joked, leaning forward in amazement.

Mina bounced excitedly. "Go, Sero! That's what I'm talking about!"

Even those who didn't often speak during training were glued to the screen. All except one.

Todoroki hadn't looked away since the match began.

His gaze was locked on the dark-haired boy zipping through the air, tape flying from his arms with precision and speed. The way Sero moved—graceful, tactical—it was... impressive.

"This match may prove to be more dynamic than expected," Tokoyami murmured, arms folded.

Todoroki glanced at him for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the screen. "I suppose."

Tokoyami, never one to waste words, studied his quiet classmate.

"I know you heard your name being called earlier."

Todoroki's body stiffened slightly, though his face remained unreadable.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I believe you do."

Todoroki's voice didn't waver. "I didn't even hear him."

Tokoyami's eyes narrowed slightly. "I never said it was a 'him.'"

Todoroki's lips parted just a fraction. His eyes widened before he could stop it.

'Damn it.'

Before Tokoyami could press further, a massive explosion rocked the battlefield. All eyes shot back to the screen.

There he was—Bakugou, smoke erupting from his hands, eyes wide with fury.

"Oh shit," Kirishima muttered.

"YOUR ASS IS DEAD, YOU TAPE-FACE LOSER!" Bakugou roared.

Sero gulped audibly. He had made his way to the rooftop of one of the training buildings and was crouched low, watching as Bakugou tore the remaining tape off his face with pure rage.

"Guess he doesn't know where I am," Sero whispered, his heart racing as adrenaline surged back into his veins.

Good. That gave him a moment—just enough to think.

'Come on, Hanta, think.'

He dropped into a crouch atop the rooftop, eyes scanning the chaos below. Bakugou was pure power, an unrelenting storm of fury and heat. Sero's tape could slow him down, sure—but it wouldn't last. His quirk didn't match the raw destructive force of Bakugou's explosions.

He needed to be smart. Tactical.

Let Bakugou's biggest weapon become his biggest weakness.

'If  I keep aiming for his face, I'll wear myself out before I get close. But... if I push him hard enough... make him reckless... he'll burn out his own fuse.'

A deafening crash shook the building under him.

"STOP HIDING FROM ME, YOU COWARD!" Bakugou's voice boomed from the dust cloud.

Sero peeked over the ledge and his breath caught. Bakugou was tearing through buildings now, explosions echoing like thunder as debris flew in every direction.

That's it.

A slow grin curled across his face.

"Yo, Bakugou~ You can't get me~" he called out, voice sing-song and taunting.

The moment Bakugou heard him, his head snapped up like a beast catching scent. His eyes found Sero hanging from a ledge, and with a growl, he fired off an explosion—just as Sero launched himself to another rooftop with a whip of tape.

He landed smoothly, turned with a smirk, and blew a raspberry. "You missed me, Bakubro!"

Bakugou snarled and blasted the building Sero had just vacated. But Sero was already on the move again, swinging to the next structure, taunting as he went.

"What is he doing?" Mina asked, brows furrowed as she leaned forward.

"I think he's just messing with him," Denki replied, head tilted.

"That's not a viable long-term strategy," Iida said with a disapproving shake of his head.

"No..." Midoriya murmured, eyes narrowed. "I think he is strategizing. Look at the buildings he's choosing."

The class turned to the screen, watching more intently now as Sero moved between buildings with growing precision.

Momo blinked, then gasped. "Oh! I see it too!"

"Tell us!" Jirou whined, tugging at her sleeve.

But Todoroki spoke before Momo could.

"He's using Bakugou's anger against him," he said quietly, eyes locked on the screen.

Momo crossed her arms, pouting. "I was going to say that."

Midoriya noticed the way Todoroki's gaze hadn't shifted—not even once. The bi-colored boy was watching Sero like a hawk, like missing even a second would be unforgivable. Midoriya frowned faintly but said nothing.

Back on the field, the chaos continued.

"Wow, Bakugou! You must be off your game—you're moving way too slow!" Sero called out with another taunt, zipping across a crumbling rooftop.

Bakugou roared. He launched another explosion, but this time debris flew into his eyes, clouding his vision. He cursed, stumbling slightly.

'Dammit! I can't see!'

The smoke was thick. The rubble made it impossible to track movement. Then—smack. A strand of tape hit his face again.

He fired blindly in the direction of the hit, only to get struck again from another angle.

Bakugou cursed louder. He shot off a larger blast to clear the smoke, but it only made things worse. Then—out of the haze—he saw it.

A flash of yellow.

A helmet.

Moving between buildings.

Bakugou squinted and smirked. "Found ya."

He planted his hands against the ground and used a blast to rocket himself into the air.

Sero had just reached one of the smaller buildings when he looked up and saw Bakugou rising above the debris cloud like an avenging meteor.

His stomach dropped.' Oh, shit.'

He fired his tape to swing, trying to pivot toward the ledge, but the momentum faltered. He hit the side of the building and nearly slipped, grabbing at a railing—but his grip failed.

He yelped, tape shooting out instinctively to catch himself mid-fall. He hung there, breath shaky, dangling from a single line of tape.

Below him, Bakugou landed with a grin that was pure danger.

"Well, well, well, Tape-Face. Thought your stupid little trick was gonna work, huh? THINK AGAIN!"

Sero gulped. "H-Hey, Bakugou, man, listen—I'm really sorry about those jokes, heh—"

"SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH! I'M GONNA END YOU!"

"Um... he can't actually kill him, right?" Hagakure asked nervously.

Aizawa, eyes on the screen, took a long sip of his coffee. "No. But he's allowed to try."

The Bakusquad collectively winced. Todoroki, however, was frozen. His fists clenched on his sides as his eyes zeroed in on Sero's struggling figure.

'Come on, Sero.'

Bakugou crouched, ready to launch a blast upward.

"DIE!"

Sero's mind raced. Most of the structures around him were destroyed—no poles, no rails, no cover. But just as Bakugou readied to fire—

Sero spotted it.

An opening.

He fired his tape down, wrapping it around Bakugou's legs. With a sharp tug, the explosive boy lost his balance and fell hard.

Bakugou grunted as his back hit the pavement. He tried to recover, but it was too late.

From above, Sero dove—tape shooting in all directions like a web.

In seconds, Bakugou's arms were restrained, his mouth covered. He let out muffled shouts, writhing against the bindings.

Up in the observation deck, Class 1-A erupted in cheers.

"Holy crap, that was AWESOME!" Kaminari shouted.

"Let's go, Sero!" Mina beamed.

Even Iida nodded, reluctantly impressed.

Todoroki finally let out a quiet sigh, tension leaving his body as a small smile formed on his lips. Tokoyami, standing beside him, noticed—but chose to remain silent.

Sometimes, you didn't need words to understand everything.

Sero grunted as he pulled the other up in the air. Bakugou screamed as Sero used his tapes to make him fly in the air.

The two made eye contact before Sero smiled as sweat formed on his forehead. Bakugou's eyes widen at what's going to happen next. Sero used all his might to fling the boy onto the ground.

He slammed the older onto the ground, very, very, very hard.

Bakugou coughed out as his back harshly hit the ground. He slowly opened his eyes but then he snarled as Sero landed his feet on his chest. Sero tightened his tape as a victory smirk planted on his face.

" And that my dude is how you do this."

" OH YEAH SERO," Mina and Denki cheered for their friend on the other side.

The rest of the class started cheering as well, except for the ex-perfect couple. Todoroki just sighed with relief then smiled softly at the screen while Midoriya watched the bi-colored facial expression.

The green scrunched his face at this, but he shook those thoughts out of his head. Tokoyami saw this and decided to look at Todoroki.

" I'm very surprised at this outcome."

Todoroki glanced sideways, blinking. "What do you mean?"

Tokoyami hummed as he looked at the screen." I didn't think Sero was capable since Bakugou is a very strong opponent."

Dark Shadow nodded in agreement behind him. "Bakugou has defeated nearly everyone in class at some point. This was... unexpected."

Everyone in the class pretty much seemed to agree with that statement.

The words twisted something in Todoroki's chest. He didn't like the way they all sounded so shocked. Like Sero wasn't capable. Like it was luck.

He looked back at the screen where Sero stood tall, tape glinting in the sun, pride shining in his eyes.

"...He's capable of a lot of things," Todoroki muttered.

The dark teen just stared at him, meanwhile, Sero was doing a mental victory dance in his head.His brain was spinning. His pulse was a drum solo.

' Holy shit, I'm alive.
Holy shit, I won.
HOLY SHIT, I JUST BODIED BAKUGOU IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. '

He was absolutely telling his mamá about this. She was going to lose her mind. Maybe he'd even ask Iida to help him edit a dramatic slow-mo clip of the fight for maximum cinematic flair.

Also—Todoroki definitely saw that, right?

Right?

His heart did a weird little flip.

As Sero was planning what to do, what he didn't know that the tape around the blonde's wrists was beginning to steam. His muffled screams grew louder. His eyes narrowed.

Sero, unaware, leaned down slightly and smirked, hands on his knees like he was chatting with a friend.

" You know Bakugou~ If you liked Kiri you should have said so, I could totally hook you two up. But that's  ok if you don't wanna get with Kiri. Honestly, I would be surprised since he's a very attractive fella~"

And that... was the worst mistake Sero could've made.

Bakugou's rage detonated.

The bindings exploded off his body in a blinding flash. Sero had just enough time to feel the tremor in the ground, a faint flicker of movement from beneath him.

"Wai—?"

Bakugou surged upward, both palms aimed square at Sero's face.

"DIEEEEEEE!"

Sero's heart dropped.

"Oh, shit—"

BOOOOM!!!

A massive explosion engulfed them both. The observation deck shook. Smoke and fire spiraled into the sky as a shrieking Sero was launched like a ragdoll across the arena.

He crashed into a pile of rubble with a sickening CRACK.

The class collectively winced.

"OOF," Kaminari grimaced.

"Yikes," Mina covered her mouth.

"Aw, man..." Kirishima sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "He had it, too..."

From beside him, Tokoyami turned to Todoroki with the faintest hint of amusement.

"You were saying?"

Todoroki stared slack-jawed at the monitor, mouth parted slightly.

Down in the arena, smoke curled around Bakugou like a demon rising from hell. He stood, chest heaving, teeth bared.

Aizawa, unmoved, sipped his coffee.

"Alright, class," he said blandly. "Let's review. What did Sero do wrong?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"Now, Mr. Sero, I don't want you doing anything rough today. Your body needs time to heal."

I winced as Recovery Girl used her quirk on my very broken arm. Yeah, I get that she heals people and all, but... does she have to kiss it every time? Seriously?

Still, I wasn't in any position to complain. I was flat on my back in the medical bed, wrapped up like a human burrito and absolutely wrecked.

Bakugou did me dirty.

Burns, broken arm, cracked ribs, and a shiny new concussion—courtesy of his "friendly" explosion that sent me flying into the rubble. Most of the damage came from that crash landing.

Also... he tried to fight me again afterward.

Because why? Because I made one little joke about him and Kirishima.

I WAS KIDDING! How the hell was I supposed to know the guy was that sensitive?

Apparently, if you poke the Bakubeast too hard, he explodes you into next Tuesday. Who knew?

Now here I am: broken bones, taped-up ribs, whole body bandaged, contemplating my life choices like I just finished a bad anime arc.

But the worst part?

I got my ass handed to me in front of Todoroki.

Yeah, I knew it was risky. But deep down, I really thought I had a chance. I thought maybe—maybe—I could impress him. You know, be the underdog hero that pulls off something awesome.

Spoiler alert: I didn't.

I forgot how smart Bakugou is under all that anger and yelling. He saw through everything. Outplayed me. Outpowered me. And blew me halfway to Hokkaido.

A sigh escaped me.

I can't even look Todoroki in the eye now. Not after that. He saw me lose in the Sports Festival. Now he's seen it again. That's two L's on record in front of the guy I'm crushing on like a damn idiot.

And he's... Todoroki.

He's strong. Elegant. Calm. Literally half fire, half perfection.

And me? I'm lying here with my body wrapped up like a sad burrito and a brain full of regrets.

Even though I know he'll never like me that way, I still want to be someone he could be proud of. Someone strong. Someone worth looking at.

But right now, I'm just a mess.

"Now, don't fall asleep," Recovery Girl said, patting my leg. "Concussions are tricky. I'll get you something to snack on."

I nodded weakly, my voice barely above a whisper. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

She gave me a gentle smile before leaving. I stared up at the ceiling, sighing. Everything hurt. Even my damn feet hurt. I'd jump off a bridge if it didn't require walking.

I couldn't even scroll through my phone to distract myself—my arms were on strike.

This. Sucked.

I was halfway through mentally drafting my will when the door creaked open. I didn't even try to look up—probably one of my friends.

"If it's Denki, shut up. If it's Mina, I'm too weak for hugs. If it's Kiri—I didn't mean to upset your boy toy. And if it's a stranger, I'm sorry for existing."

"Boy toy?"

My eyes snapped open.

Oh no.

That voice was too familiar.

Too soft.

Too Todoroki.

I bolted upright immediately—regret hitting me as pain lit up every nerve in my body.

"T-Todoroki?!"

There he was, standing at the doorway in his full hero gear, looking absurdly good for someone who just watched me get annihilated earlier. He gave me a small wave before stepping inside.

"Sorry if I startled you. I just came to check on you."

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait.

He wanted to check on me?

...

...

...

HE WANTED TO CHECK ON ME?!

HOLY. SHIT.

"O-Oh! You didn't have to do that," I blurted, my voice climbing an octave like a freaking middle schooler.

WHY AM I LIKE THIS!?

"I wanted to," he said simply, stepping closer. "Bakugou did a real number on you."

Damn it. He's so close.

"Y-Yeah... I really thought I had him," I muttered, trying—and failing—to sound cool.

"I thought so too."

...

He believed in me.

He actually believed I could win.

My heart did a full Olympic-level somersault.

Todoroki. Believed. In me.

Those eyes of his—deep, mismatched, thoughtful—were impossible to look away from. I could stare at them for hours.

I have stared at them for hours, if we're being honest.

" Sero?"

I blinked back to reality. "Yeah?"

"What did you say to Bakugou that made him so mad?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice

Oh right. That.

"Oh! Uh... just something stupid. You know Bakugou—super sensitive. I cracked a joke, and he flipped out. Nothing serious. He's just a gran bebé enojado."

I chuckled at my own joke, but Todoroki tilted his head slightly—his default expression of confusion.

And God, it was adorable.

Yeah. I have a fat-ass crush on him. Don't judge me.

"He's a what?"

"Gran bebé enojado," I repeated with a shrug. "Big angry baby. Sorry, I slip into my mom's language sometimes."

It happens more than I realize. My friends are used to it now, but when we first met, they thought I was casting spells or something.

"Oh... is that Spanish?" he asked, tilting his head again.

" Si!"

He gave me a confused look.

I laughed. "Yes. It is."

"Oh. Wow."

He just... stood there.

I looked around. No chairs.

My eyes returned to him.

"Wanna sit down?"

Todoroki glanced around. "Where?"

"My bed, silly."

TOO BOLD. TOO BOLD. WHY DID I SAY THAT?!

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"It's fine, mi amor—"

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

NO. NO. NO.

Why the HELL did I say that?!

"What does that mean?"

GOD, WHY?

"U-Uh—I-I meant m-mi... a-amigo! Y-Yeah! Mi amigo! It means friend. You! My friend. My buddy! You are my... haha... friend."

I was crumbling. Sweating. Dying inside. My heart thudded like it was trying to punch its way out of my ribcage.

He was going to leave. He was going to think I was weird. I was going to have to transfer.

"Are you sure you're okay? Your face is really red," Todoroki said, sitting gently on the edge of the bed.

And then... he put his hand on my forehead.

OH MY GOD.

"Doesn't feel like a fever... Did you hit your head that hard?"

He pulled his hand back slowly, and I exhaled shakily.

"Y-Yeah. Slight concussion," I admitted quietly.

His expression softened immediately. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," I replied, but honestly? It kinda wasn't. My entire body was in agony.

There was a pause—one of those weird silences where time feels like it's holding its breath.

"What are your injuries?" he asked suddenly.

Right. The damage report.

"Uh, let's see—fractured arm, burn marks, some cracked ribs, a concussion, and honestly? My whole body feels like I got hit by a truck."

The way he frowned... it made me want to erase that expression off his face forever. I quickly waved my good arm and tried to lighten the mood.

"But hey, at least I'm not dead, right?" I joked with a weak grin.

He didn't laugh.

His brows furrowed, voice low and sharp:"Bakugou needs to stop overdoing it. He could've seriously hurt you."

I blushed.

He's just being a good friend, I told myself.

But another voice screamed...

OH MY GOD MY CRUSH IS WORRIED ABOUT ME.

"Says the guy who nearly froze me alive at the sports festival," I teased with a chuckle. Still get chills thinking about it.

But that... backfired.

His face dropped from frustration to guilt. He looked down at my blanket, voice low.

"I... I'm sorry about that."

My heart cracked a little.

"Dude, I was kidding! I'm totally over it," I said quickly.

Then he looked up at me—and the sadness in his eyes hit me like a brick.

"You are?"

HE'S SO PRETTY.

Like, not fair pretty. Not of-this-earth pretty.

"Yeah, man. Bakugou's not taking me out that easy. Who else is gonna babysit the idiots and read manga with you?"

He blinked.

His cheeks—just a hint of pink.

Holy hell. He's actually blushing.

A beautiful, powerful human being—blushing because of me.

"Speaking of, you still want that series I told you about?" I asked, trying to keep the convo going and not combust.

He looked straight at me, and I swear the room got quieter. His eyes were locked on mine, and suddenly my heart forgot how to beat.

"Yes. The way you described it... it sounded interesting."

I grinned.

"Why, thank you. My mamá always says, 'Usar tus palabras es tan poderoso como una máquina, así que úsalo sabiamente.'"

(Using your words is as powerful as a machine, so use them wisely.)

Todoroki's eyes widened slightly, like the phrase hit deeper than expected.

And, naturally, I panicked.

"Ah—sorry! That means, 'Using your words is as powerful as a machine, so use them wisely.' I gotta stop slipping into Spanish mid-sentence, it's a—"

"Will you teach me?"

I froze.

Mid-sentence. Mid-breath. Mid-everything.

"...Huh?"

His face turned just a little pink, but his gaze didn't waver. He was looking directly at me, like he was asking for something more than just vocabulary.

"I know it's kind of a strange request," he said, voice lower now, almost shy. "But whenever you speak Spanish... it sounds really beautiful. I want to learn."

Excuse me—what?

I swear the room tilted sideways.

Did Shoto Todoroki—Mr. I-have-two-modes-and-they're-fire-and-ice—just call my language beautiful?

I blinked. I had to be dreaming. There's no way this was real. Any second now I was gonna wake up with Denki's foot in my face and realize this was just another unhinged brain spiral.

But no—he was still looking at me. Still waiting. Still slightly red in the cheeks.

"I know it's probably a lot to ask," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck now, "but it always grabs my attention when you speak it. It sounds... like something I want to understand."

"...Okay," I said, before I could stop myself.

He looked surprised. And I mean genuinely surprised, like he expected me to laugh it off or shut it down.

"Wait—really?"

"Yeah, why not? Spanish isn't too hard. And you're, like, a certified prodigy, so I'm sure you'll pick it up fast." I grinned, heart beating entirely too fast. "Plus, I think it'll be fun."

That got a reaction. His eyes lit up—not in a dramatic anime-sparkle way, but in that subtle Todoroki way. Like a fire warming quietly under the surface.

"Thank you, Sero. I promise I'll try my best."

"That's all I ask."

He looked away, a faint blush still dusting his cheeks. I could tell he was trying to hide it.

And honestly? It was kinda adorable.

Then he spoke again, soft but sincere.

"I really appreciate it. And... if you ever need help with your schoolwork, I can help too."

That would absolutely come in handy—especially in math, because I swear that subject has a personal vendetta against me—but—

"Thanks, Roki. But think of this as a gift. From me to you."

He tilted his head, just slightly. "What do you mean?"

I smiled a little, trying not to sound like a total sap.

"You came to check on me, remember? You didn't have to do that. That meant a lot. So let me teach you. No strings. No debt. I just... want to."

For a second, I didn't know what kind of expression he had. Something soft, thoughtful, maybe even a little vulnerable. I couldn't read it fully, but I knew he was listening. Really listening.

"Sero," he said after a moment, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

He hesitated.

Now I frowned. "...What is it?"

He looked back at me—and this time, there was something heavier behind those eyes. Not dark, but honest. Open.

"Why are you always so kind to me?"

I blinked. That wasn't what I expected. And before I could answer, he kept going.

"You... hugged me when I needed it. You helped me without being asked. You invited me to things. And now you're offering to teach me Spanish. I barely paid any attention to you before and now... you're just being nice to me?"

My face fell.

"I—"

But before I could finish, he stood abruptly, shoulders tense, a cold glint flickering across his face.

"...Is this some kind of prank?"

"No!" I said immediately, hands raised in alarm. "No, Roki—nothing like that."

"Then what is it?" he demanded, voice rising slightly. "Why are you being nice to me when I barely knew you existed?!"

That hit. Harder than I thought it would.

I swallowed. My chest ached, but I stood my ground.

"...Because I've always admired you, Todoroki."

He froze.

His posture softened, and slowly, he sat back down—no longer angry, just confused. Curious.

I exhaled shakily. If I was gonna say this, I had to commit.

"Back before the sports festival, I thought you were kinda terrifying, not gonna lie," I admitted. "All stone-faced, no emotion. You barely spoke. You were like a machine. But... even then, I still thought you were cool."

He looked down, guilt flickering across his face.

"And when we fought?" I shrugged. "Honestly... it was kinda fun. I mean, excluding the part where you froze me solid like a damn popsicle. That sucked."

A tiny chuckle escaped him—just a breath, but it was there.

I smiled and continued. "But after that... I started paying more attention. I saw how focused you were, how much effort you put in. You've been through a lot, I know. But you're determined. You fight like hell. I respect that."

That was the truth. His quirk was scary powerful, but the way he carried himself—that's what impressed me the most.

"And once I got to know you better... I realized you're actually kind. Quiet, yeah, but kind. So no—this isn't a prank. I was just scared to talk to you because... I didn't think I was worth your time."

I laughed nervously, scratching the back of my neck. "I figured you didn't like me."

He shook his head. "I never disliked you."

I looked over to see him rubbing his arm, a soft shame clouding his features.

"I've never been good with people. I was too focused on... other things. And during the festival, I went too far. I'm sorry."

"I get it, Roki. Really."

He nodded. But I wasn't done.

I reached out, gently placing my hand on top of his. He tensed—but didn't pull away.

"Look, even before this... I always liked talking to you. Even the short convos. You're a cool guy. And I do see you as a friend. A real one."

...I'm such a liar.

I want to be so much more.

"But I'd never prank you. That's not who I am."

The silence was thick. My heart thudded in my chest.

Then—

"I'm sorry," I started again. "I didn't mean to get so heavy and—"

Suddenly, I was yanked forward, and something wrapped around my neck.

I panicked—until I realized it was sleeves. A jacket. A body.

Vanilla.

Wait—vanilla?

My brain short-circuited as I looked down.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh yes.

Shoto Todoroki, my literal crush, was hugging me.

Not a pat-on-the-back bro hug.

A full, warm, burying-his-face-in-my-shoulder hug.

WHAT.

If 2 + 2 is 4, and 5 + 5 is 10, then what the hell is this divine miracle!?

I swear I forgot how to breathe.

My arms eventually moved on their own, wrapping around him gently, trying not to combust on the spot.

Okay. Okay. This was fine.

This was—

"A-Agh—Roki... you're kinda pressing on my cracked ribs—"

He immediately let go, stumbling back in a panic.

"Sorry!"

I giggled, holding my side but grinning like an idiot. "It's okay, mi amigo."

He pointed at me, brow furrowed with concentration. "That means... friend, right?"

Oh my god, he's learning.

"Sí, amigo mío," I said, unable to stop smiling. "Eres un aprendiz rápido."

He blinked, tilted his head—classic Todoroki confusion. "What?"

I laughed. Loud. Free.

"Oh, we've got so much to work on, Roki."

And in that moment, I didn't care about anything else.

I just wanted this to keep going.

Chapter 6: Spanish

Notes:

SURPRISE

Third Person POV:

"Okay, what's this?"

"Uh... la manzana?"

Sero grinned like a proud teacher. "Sí, sí! Very good, Roki! Now this one?"

He pointed to an object on the lunch table—Todoroki squinted in concentration.

Across the table, the rest of Sero's friend group watched the whole interaction like it was a live drama series—equal parts confused, curious, and amused. Well, everyone except Mina, who looked like she was about to explode from sheer excitement. Her two friends sitting this close? Flirting in two languages? Her fangirl heart was full.

Todoroki had been sitting at their table for about a week now, ever since he and Sero had started bonding over Spanish and the occasional manga session. It started off rocky—literally. Denki, in true Denki fashion, let it slip that Sero had a thing for a certain half-and-half hero.

Mina and Sero had nearly ended Denki's entire existence.

Luckily, Todoroki's cluelessness came in handy. The boy was dense—like, neutron-star dense. He hadn't picked up on the accidental confession at all.

Then there was Bakugou. Naturally, the explosion prince hated everything about the situation and made that known by screaming about how "icy-hot didn't belong at his damn table."

Kirishima had to pull him aside and talk him down. When they came back, Bakugou glared daggers and declared that if Todoroki even breathed too close, there would be consequences.

So now, Todoroki sat as far from Bakugou as physically possible while still being at the table. Sero found the whole thing lowkey hilarious.

"Okay, Roki, final test for the day." Sero held up a water bottle dramatically like it was a holy artifact. "Name this."

Todoroki stared. He'd heard this before. He knew it.

"...Ague?"

Sero gently put the bottle down and sighed, "Close. Agua."

Todoroki's expression fell. "Oh."

Sero chuckled and patted his back. "Don't worry, you're improving. Way faster than I expected."

"Why are you even teaching him that?" Denki asked with a mouth full of food. "Like, what's the point? We speak Japanese."

Sero rolled his eyes. "Because Spanish is a beautiful language, and some of us have taste, unlike you, French fry."

Denki scoffed. "You're literally teaching the most basic guy here. No offense, Todoroki."

Todoroki blinked. "I don't think I'm basic."

Denki burst out laughing, and even Bakugou tsked from his corner. Kirishima gave Denki a side-eye while Mina leaned in with a teasing grin.

"No offense, hon, but... yeah, you are."

Sero raised an eyebrow. "How is he basic?"

"Let's start with his wardrobe," Denki said, gesturing dramatically. "Outside of uniform? Plain t-shirts and sweatpants. His shoes? Generic. His backpack? You could confuse it for a teacher's."

Todoroki glanced down at his sneakers. "...I think they're comfortable."

Mina practically melted. "Awww."

Kirishima nodded. "Still not manly, bro."

Denki shrugged. "I'm just saying—Sero's trying to spice things up with Spanish, and he's teaching it to the one person who's allergic to flavor."

Sero let out an exaggerated sigh and muttered under his breath, "Por qué soy amigo de un cerdo inculto? Mi mamá lo habría llamado idiota y le habría lanzado una chancla!"

(Why am I friends with an uncultured swine? My mom would've called this kid an idiot and thrown a sandal at him.)

Mina gasped dramatically. "Uh-oh! Denki, you broke him! Spanish Mode activated!"

"Wait what? What'd he say?!" Denki panicked.

Todoroki looked toward Kirishima, who leaned in. "It's Sero Rage Mode. If he switches to full Spanish? You're toast."

Then Sero exploded. "Te atreves a llamar básico a mi amor?! Mi amor?! Él es la definición de perfección! Ni siquiera puedes enchufar algo sin hacer explotar los dormitorios!"

(You dare call my love basic?! My love?! He's the definition of perfection! You can't even plug in a charger without blacking out the dorms!)

Denki flailed like he'd just been physically slapped. "I don't know what he said, but I felt it in my soul! That was, like, a three-layer roast sandwich and I didn't even get subtitles!"

"Sero?" Todoroki's voice cut cleanly through the chaos, calm and unbothered—like a pebble dropping into a thunderstorm.

Sero froze mid-rant, eyes snapping to him like a deer caught in stadium lights. "Sí—I mean, yes?!"

Todoroki offered a small, soft smile. "I don't mind being called basic. I think your language is beautiful. That's why I wanted to learn it. From you."

And that was it.

Sero.exe had stopped responding.

His brain completely short-circuited. A full system meltdown. His face flushed so violently, Mina wondered if he'd spontaneously combust from sheer gay panic.

"Ah—th-thanks," he managed, voice cracking halfway like a middle schooler at a choir audition.

Across the table, Denki and Kirishima exchanged the most painfully obvious knowing smirks, while Mina whispered into her juice box like it was a microphone, "They're so dumb. And so adorable. Dumb-dorable."

Todoroki tilted his head with quiet curiosity. "Your face is doing that thing again."

"Huh? O-oh. Yeah, ha... Guess it does that. Sometimes. Hormones maybe? Sunlight? I don't know."

Before anyone could respond, Bakugou growled from the end of the table like a volcano just starting to rumble.

"You're an idiot."

Everyone went still.

Todoroki looked at him, calm but direct. "Come again?"

"You heard me, Snowcone." Bakugou didn't even look up as he stabbed his meat with unhinged aggression. "You're a damn idiot. Even a toddler could see what's happening here."

Sero's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. He started silently shaking his head, making frantic throat-slashing gestures.

Mina was mouthing DON'T with enough urgency to pass for a hostage. Denki did a full "abort mission" motion with both hands like a ground crew waving off a plane.

Todoroki, of course, didn't notice any of it. "Alright then. What exactly do you think is happening?"

Bakugou opened his mouth, ready to unload. "I think Tape-Face over here—"

"—Loves teaching!" Kirishima jumped in, practically shouting with a nervous chuckle. "Yep! He's really passionate about language learning! Total educational king!"

Sero sagged in his seat, exhaling hard like he'd just dodged a sniper shot.

Todoroki turned to him and nodded seriously. "That's true. You do seem very dedicated. I enjoy learning from you, Sero."

And cue meltdown #2.

Sero's brain imploded again—right there, in the cafeteria. His blush returned with a vengeance, and this time even his ears turned pink. Mina let out a squeal so high-pitched it could probably only be heard by dogs.

Bakugou stood abruptly, snatched his tray like it had personally offended him, and snarled, "You're all fucking morons."

He stormed off, muttering profanities under his breath, probably inventing new ones on the way.

Denki blinked after him. "...Yet he still sits with us."

Mina shook her head. "He's on his man-period again."

"Or your daily period," Denki fired back without missing a beat.

She slapped his arm. "Oh, shut up, walking fire hazard!"

Kirishima groaned and dramatically let his head thud onto the table. Todoroki blinked in his direction, concerned.

"Kirishima? Are you okay?"

Kirishima groaned into the wood. "No. Everything hurts. Life is pain."

Todoroki turned to Sero, silently asking for clarification.

Sero just raised both hands. "Don't look at me, man. I gave up trying to understand these people three school terms ago."

Mina suddenly slapped her fork down like a gavel. "Okay, you know what? I'm saying it: Bakugou needs to get over himself, and Kiri needs to just ask him out already. This slow-burn is exhausting."

"Mina!" Kirishima sat bolt upright, redder than Todoroki's left side. "Could you not yell my feelings in the middle of the cafeteria?!"

"Too late. Everyone already knows, babe."

"Not everyone—!"

"I knew," Todoroki chimed in, tone flat as ever.

Kirishima looked personally victimized. "What?!"

Denki burst out laughing. "If Todoroki picked up on it, then oh man—Bakugou definitely knows."

Todoroki looked around, dead serious. "Knows what?"

Kirishima groaned and let his head fall again.

Mina, wheezing from laughter, wiped tears from her eyes while Denki giggled like a gremlin.

Sero just sat there, popping a grape into his mouth and leaning back like a man too old for this level of chaos.

"...I need a vacation," he muttered. "Or a therapist."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And then—just like that—the main character confessed his love for her," Sero said, closing the manga with a satisfied thump. "Boom. The end."

Todoroki blinked, hugging a plush pillow against his chest like it might anchor him. "Whoa..." he murmured, letting the word stretch as he tried to process everything. Then his brows furrowed. "Wait... did the guy she liked turn into a demon halfway through? Or... am I confusing this with something else?"

Sero snorted. "Dude, I think you're mixing Demon Slayer with Fruits Basket."

Todoroki stared blankly for a second before replying, completely serious. "Oh."

Suppressing a laugh, Sero stood from where he'd been lounging and clapped his hands once. "Okay! Now that we've finished that one, your genre choices for tonight are: fantasy, thriller, and—drumroll please—my personal favorite... romance~" He twirled dramatically.

Todoroki simply nodded and adjusted his legs, sitting cross-legged on the floor like an attentive student. His eyes followed Sero with quiet curiosity as the older boy moved to the manga shelf near his bed.

Sero's fingers trailed over the spines until he plucked out a worn volume with a soft, nostalgic smile. "Ah, here we go. Banana Fish. My absolute favorite. It wrecks me every single time."

Todoroki tilted his head. "Banana Fish? That's... a food, right? Like... a dessert?"

Sero grinned and shook his head. "No, mi amigo. Definitely not dessert. It's a romance and drama story. But it's also gritty—got crime, gangs, trauma. You'll see. It's hard to explain without spoilers or, y'know, me crying on the spot. But I really think you'd like it." He extended the book toward Todoroki reverently.

Todoroki hesitated before slowly accepting the volume. His fingers brushed Sero's as he took it, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Todoroki turned it over in his hands. "There's a gun on the cover. Is this a mafia manga?"

Sero chuckled and flopped backward onto the bed. "Kind of. But trust me—it's more than that. Just give it a try."

Todoroki nodded, flipping the book open as he settled deeper into the pillow. He was quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the page, but his mind was far too distracted.

He glanced up. Sero was lounging with his own manga now, flipping through pages with a lazy grin.

There was something Todoroki wanted to say.

Or ask.

Or maybe just... do.

But he couldn't figure out how to translate it into words. There was something about being here, like this—just the two of them, warm lamplight casting soft shadows across the walls, manga between them and silence that wasn't awkward.

He didn't hate it. In fact, he was starting to think he liked it a little too much.

"Roki?" Sero's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Todoroki turned, brows raising slightly. "Yes?"

"You wanna sit on the bed?" Sero asked casually, tapping the space next to him.

Todoroki blinked, his body stiffening slightly. "Oh, I couldn't. I'm fine here."

Sero raised an eyebrow. "You're literally sitting on the floor. Dude, come on. I'd feel bad. I'm not some villain making guests sit like peasants."

"I don't mind—"

"Roki~" Sero said, in that teasing but affectionate tone he used when he really wanted something. His expression softened into something unreadable—eyes half-lidded, mouth relaxed.

Not a smirk. Not a joke. Just... warmth.

Todoroki paused.

The way Sero said his name—it sent something fluttering through his stomach like a sudden updraft. His cheeks tingled, warmth rising beneath his skin. He wasn't used to this feeling, not around anyone.

He looked down, tried to focus on the manga in his lap.

But Sero's smile was still there. Gentle. Patient.

And before he even knew it, Todoroki's body was moving. His legs unfolded, his fingers grasped the book tighter, and he rose, walking the short distance to the bed like he was on autopilot.

He sat down beside Sero, careful not to get too close, but close enough to feel the dip in the mattress.

Sero smiled, turning onto his side and resting his head on his pillow. "Now this is the proper reading experience."

Todoroki leaned back against the wall, propping one leg up and trying not to look at Sero for too long.

The silence between them resumed, but it was different now. Closer. Louder.

Sero hid behind his manga, heart racing.

'He actually sat next to me.'

His crush. His hopeless, confusing, completely unexpected crush.

'On my bed. Next to me.'

If someone had told him a few months ago that Shoto Todoroki would be here like this—smiling, comfortable, voluntarily choosing to be around him—Sero would've laughed them off and told them to quit dreaming.

But now? Now it was happening.

Real.
Surreal.
Dangerously close to perfect.

'If only it could mean something more.'

"Hey, Sero?" Todoroki's voice was soft.

Sero popped up slightly. "Yeah?"

"Is this story really about the mafia?"

Sero chuckled. "Sort of. But it's more about love and identity and pain. The mafia part just adds spice."

Todoroki still looked unsure.

Sero sat up, tossing his manga aside for a moment. "Come on, Roki. Do you trust me?"

Todoroki's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he looked down, almost like he was trying to hide behind his bangs. "...Yes."

That one word did something to Sero's chest. Something that felt terrifying and wonderful.

"Then I promise it's worth it. It might seem confusing at first, but it's... muy perfecto."

Todoroki looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Very... perfect?"

Sero grinned. "Sí! Wow, dude, you're learning!"

Todoroki nodded slowly. "Yes. After our sessions, I... sometimes listen to the songs you sent me. I try to understand the lyrics."

Sero stared at him.

"You what?"

"They remind me of you," Todoroki added quickly, still staring at the pages. "So I listen more carefully."

Sero's heart was about to combust.

'He listens to music because it reminds him of me??'

"Dude... that's actually amazing. Like, no joke. Most people take years just to wrap their heads around basic Spanish vocab. We've been studying for, what, a week?"

Todoroki's cheeks flushed again. He looked down, adjusting the book in his lap. "It's not that impressive."

"Yes it is," Sero said, voice gentler now. "You're seriously trying. That means something."

Todoroki looked up—just briefly. But Sero caught it. That quiet look. The slight curve of his mouth. The soft burn in his cheeks. The way his eyes, mismatched and beautiful, seemed to linger just a second longer than they should.

It made Sero smile. Wider than he had in days.

Todoroki, on the other hand, felt like he was burning alive.

Literally.

A small flicker of flame danced up from his left side, curling just slightly before vanishing.

Sero blinked. "Uh, Roki? You okay? You're... kind of on fire."

Todoroki bolted upright. "I-I'm fine! I just—uh—need to use the bathroom!"

He shot off the bed like a cannon and disappeared into Sero's bathroom, shutting the door behind him a little too hard.

Sero sat in stunned silence for a beat, blinking slowly.

Then he flopped back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, manga forgotten.

"...What the hell just happened?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

I splashed cold water onto my face, trying to force my heart back into its normal rhythm. Slowly, the frantic pounding softened into something manageable. I leaned forward, gripping the edges of the sink, letting the water drip down into the porcelain below.

What was that?

My heart had never done that before. Not like this.

I reached for a paper towel, patting my face dry, before glancing up—freezing at the sight of my reflection. My skin still tingled faintly, flushed with residual heat. My eyes searched themselves in the mirror, as if maybe they'd give me some kind of answer.

My whole body felt... strange. Like I had been engulfed by my own flames. Not literally—there was no burn—but the sensation lingered deep inside. My chest was tight, my stomach was tied in knots, and my brain was struggling to understand why.

I was fine a minute ago. Totally fine.

And then... Sero smiled at me.

My eyes widened.

That's when it started.

The moment he smiled—really smiled—and looked at me with those soft, warm eyes... everything spiraled. My temperature spiked, my flame flared without warning, and I had to run.

So it's Sero?

No. That doesn't make sense.

Sero is my friend. He's kind, thoughtful. He's never once made me feel unsafe or uncomfortable. He goes out of his way to help me—teaching me Spanish, introducing me to his friends, treating me like I matter. He wouldn't hurt me.

But... these feelings?

They're new. And they always seem to show up when I'm with him.

When he calls me "Roki," my face warms up. When he compliments me, my stomach flips. When he smiled just now, I practically combusted. It's like... he's part of the problem.

Or maybe... he's the cause.

I rubbed my temples, sighing quietly. I need to figure this out before I accidentally burn his room down—or worse, hurt him.

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts.

"Roki?" Sero's voice filtered through the door, gentle. "You okay in there?"

My heart twinged.

I've been in here too long. Now he's worried.

I quickly opened the door. He stood there, brows slightly furrowed, concern painted across his face.

"You're not sick, right?"

I wasn't sure how to answer that.

"No, I'm okay," I lied. "Sorry I took so long."

He didn't push. He just nodded.

"That's cool. Still wanna read, or head back to your dorm?"

That's something I'd noticed about Sero. When something's bothering me, he never pushes. He doesn't pressure me to talk like the others sometimes do. He changes the subject, offers space. Later, when the time is right, he'll ask again. But he always waits until I'm ready.

I like that about him.

My cheeks heated up again. I shook my head, trying to reset whatever that was.

Sero tilted his head. "You don't want to read or you don't want to go back?"

Crap. Miscommunication. Now I was just standing here looking awkward.

"I want to read," I clarified quickly, waving my hands a little. "Sorry. That was confusing."

His expression softened. "No worries."

And then—his hand ruffled through my hair.

I blinked, startled by the sudden, soft pressure against my scalp. His fingers moved gently, almost lazily, through my hair. My breath caught. It wasn't rough. It wasn't like the way my father used to—

It was the opposite.

Warm. Calming. Safe.

His hand moved in soft circles, and for the first time in a while, I closed my eyes and let myself feel it. I let out a low hum before I could stop myself.

He laughed, his voice playful. "Do you like it?"

My eyes shot open.

Oh no.

My face flared again, and I pulled back, avoiding his gaze. "N-No."

I stuttered. Again.

What is wrong with me?

He probably thinks I'm weird now.

"Don't lie to me, Roki~" he grinned. "I give the best head rubs. Ask my little siblings."

I glanced up to see him giving me a lopsided smile. His grin wasn't mocking—it was warm, genuine.

"They're... nice," I admitted softly.

He must've heard me, because his hand returned to my head, rubbing gently again. My eyes widened, and before I could say anything, he winked at me.

"If you wanted head rubs, you just had to ask."

I stared at him.

There was something about Sero—his kindness, his ease, his affection—that made me feel... human. Like I didn't need to be the stoic, perfect hero student everyone else saw. I could just be... me.

"Roki?"

His voice snapped me out of my daze again. I looked up, curious.

"Yeah?"

His face was pink again, his expression tense.

"D-Do you... wanna hang out with me and my friends next Friday? In the common room? We usually go out, but since we're grounded, we're doing a movie night. Disney night, actually."

I blinked.

He wanted me to come?

"You want me there?"

He nodded—fast.

"Yeah. I mean, they want you too. But I do. But only if you want to! You don't have to, obviously, but I'd be kinda bummed if you didn't. Not in a guilt-trippy way! Just like—uh—"

I pressed my hand to his mouth, cutting off the ramble.

"I'll come," I said simply. "You don't need to convince me."

His eyes softened, and I felt the smile form beneath my hand. I dropped it, and he chuckled.

"Sorry. I ramble when I'm nervous."

I smiled—barely—but it was real. "I'd like to come to movie night. With you."

His eyes lit up, and just like that, he was off—probably to tell the others.

The warmth of his hand left my head, and the cold air where it used to be felt strangely... empty.

Lonely.

I frowned. I can't get ahead of myself. I've done that before—read into things that weren't there. Let feelings cloud my judgment. I can't afford to make that mistake again.

That was how I lost Midoriya. I don't want to ruin things with Sero too.

Still... when I walked back into the room and saw him lying on the bed, laughing into the phone, my chest fluttered again.

The way he tossed his head back when he laughed. The way he bit his bottom lip to hold it in. My gaze lingered there, and I felt the heat creeping up again.

Wait... why was I thinking about his lips?

That's not normal. That's not something friends do.

"Roki, whatcha standing over there for? Your manga's waiting~"

His voice pulled me back. I blinked, trying to shake the thought.

I must be sick. That's all. Some weird fever or mental fog. Yeah... that explains everything.

I walked back to the bed, climbed up beside him, and opened my book. He stretched out beside me, relaxed and warm. I peeked over, watching how focused he looked, how absorbed he was in his manga.

And even though I tried to turn away, a smile tugged at the corners of my lips.

I looked down at my own manga and finally started reading.

This time, the warmth in my chest didn't feel strange.

It felt... nice.

And maybe, just maybe...

I didn't mind feeling it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

"Okay, Sero," Denki drawled, leaning forward with a grin that screamed mischief. "Tell us the truth. Are you and Todoroki, like... a thing?"

Sero didn't even look up from his hand of Uno cards as he tossed a yellow one onto the pile. "No, Denki."

"Aw, come on!" Denki groaned, throwing his head back. "You guys have been glued together for two weeks now! You're trying to tell me there's been zero kissing action?"

"Denki!" Mina smacked his arm with her deck, cards flying.

But she didn't deny it. In fact, she leaned in closer, eyes gleaming. "Sero, seriously. The vibes are immaculate. He and Deku broke up like, what, a month ago? And ever since then, you two have been orbiting each other like satellites. I swear you were about to kiss yesterday."

Sero sighed, slouching back in his seat. "First of all, no, we didn't kiss. Second of all... he probably hates me right now."

That shut them up for a second.

"Wait, what?" Kirishima blinked, lowering his hand. "Hates you? What happened?"

"Alright," Sero muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Here's the tea."

Yesterday. Hero Training. Ground Beta.

Wednesdays meant one thing: field combat and self-defense pair-ups. And with most of the class still acting weird around Todoroki post-breakup, no one was exactly rushing to team up with him.

Except Sero.

To him, it was a no-brainer. They'd gotten closer lately, and honestly? He enjoyed the guy's company. Chill, dry humor, easy to talk to—even if he was a little awkward.

They were paired together for sparring, specifically a defense drill where Todoroki would attack and Sero had to block or dodge without striking back.

Easy, right?

And it was. At first.

They were laughing, teasing—Sero threw in the occasional Spanish phrase that made Todoroki's cheeks tint pink, and Sero lived for it. He couldn't help himself; making the guy flustered was just too entertaining.

But then... it happened.

Apparently, Todoroki activated his ice quirk mid-lunge. Sero had been so focused on blocking his punches that he didn't notice the patch of ice creeping around the floor. Neither did Todoroki.

So when Todoroki stepped forward, he slipped—and came crashing right down on top of Sero, pinning him to the ground.

And then... silence.

Time froze.

Their faces were inches apart. Sero could feel the warmth of Todoroki's breath, the weight of him pressing down, the way his bi-colored eyes locked onto Sero's like he was searching for something.

If Sero had leaned up even slightly, their lips would've touched. He thought about it.

And so did Todoroki.

They just... stared at each other. Like no one else existed. Like the whole damn gym had faded out. The tension was palpable.

It would've been romantic. Maybe even magical.

Except Todoroki panicked.

Like, hardcore.

He tried to get up—but slipped again, elbowed Sero in the ribs, and then accidentally kneed him in the worst place imaginable.

Sero wheezed like a dying vacuum cleaner.

To top it off, Aizawa's dry voice rang out through the gym: "Are you two done with the floor routine?"

Everyone turned.

Everyone saw.

When Todoroki finally stood, he didn't look at him. Just muttered, "Sorry," and walked away.

And that was it.

No texts. No glances. No awkward apologies in the hallway. It was like Todoroki had vanished from his life in less than thirty seconds.

"Dude," Denki whispered. "That's like... tragic."

"Seriously," Mina frowned, her teasing edge softening. "I didn't realize it was that bad."

"I mean," Sero shrugged, trying to play it off, "I get it. He probably thinks it was too much too soon. He just got out of a long-term relationship with Midoriya, and now he's stuck in the middle of this... weird thing with me."

"It's not weird, man," Kirishima said firmly. "It sounds like he likes you. He just doesn't know how to handle it."

"Yeah," Denki chimed in. "You two were totally having a Nala and Simba moment. I could hear the Disney music playing in my head."

Sero snorted. "Well, I must've missed the part where Nala avoids Simba like a plague and Simba spirals into existential dread."

That made all of them pause.

Mina reached over and gently rubbed his arm. "Sero... I'm sorry. That sucks."

"It's just..." He trailed off, staring at his cards like they held the answers to his emotional crisis. "I thought we were building something. Even if it was just a friendship. But now it feels like I crossed a line he didn't want me to. And I don't know how to fix it."

"You didn't cross anything," Kirishima said. "You fell. Literally. He landed on you."

"Yeah," Denki added. "If anyone's crossed a line, it's the universe."

Sero managed a small smile at that.

"I miss him," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I miss seeing him every day. I miss hearing him butcher Spanish. I miss the way his face does that confused little squint when I say something dumb. It's been one day and I feel like crap."

Mina bit her lip. "You should talk to him. Like, really talk to him. Not just about what happened, but how you feel."

Sero sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't know if he wants to hear it. I don't even know if he wants to hear me."

Before anyone could respond, a familiar grunt echoed from the couch behind them.

"Yeah, right."

The four teens turned their heads, immediately spotting Bakugou lounging there with his eyes locked on his phone, his tone as sharp as ever.

Mina rolled her eyes, already bracing herself. "What are you talking about now, Bakugou?"

The explosive blonde didn't even glance up from his phone. "The idiot's avoiding you, and you're still making excuses for him."

Sero blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness, but quickly sighed, his voice soft. "It's not an excuse, Bakugou. It's just... facts. I don't really have the right to complain."

Bakugou sat up slowly, his crimson eyes flashing like warning lights. With a low grunt, he stood and walked toward the group, every heavy step echoing in the quiet common room. He stopped beside the table, arms crossed, jaw tense.

"That's your damn problem," he growled. "You're too damn soft. Always have been. You let people walk all over you. Clinging to feelings that aren't returned. You're stringing yourself along with this fantasy when it's obvious—he's not into you. He doesn't care. And the longer you keep pretending he does, the worse it's gonna hurt when it finally breaks you."

His words hit like a sledgehammer—raw and brutal.

Sero's shoulders sank. The sting wasn't just in Bakugou's voice, but in how easily it all cut him open. Mina's eyes widened, her lips pressing into a thin line as she gently touched Sero's arm. Denki gave a sympathetic nod, hand resting on Sero's shoulder in quiet support.

But Kirishima shot up, face dark with disbelief. "Bakugou, what the hell is wrong with you?!"

Bakugou didn't flinch. "I'm saying what none of you will. I'm not gonna sugarcoat this fairytale. If Half-N-Half gave a damn about TapeFace, he'd be here. He'd talk. He'd show it. But he's not. So maybe it's time someone stopped enabling this sad little dream."

Mina was on her feet now too, arms crossed, glaring daggers. "You don't have to be cruel to be honest."

Denki chimed in, his usually bright eyes dimmed. "Yeah, you could have said that without stomping on his heart."

Bakugou shrugged. "Truth doesn't care how you feel about it."

Kirishima stepped closer, fists clenched. "That's low—even for you, man."

Bakugou met his eyes, unfazed. "Whatever."

The tension in the air was thick—choking. Everyone could feel it.

But the worst part was Sero didn't say anything right away. He just sat there, eyes on the floor, throat tight. Eventually, he stood, offering a hollow smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"...Yeah. You're right, Bakugou."

Four heads snapped in his direction.

"I've been repeating myself. Saying the same thing. Holding onto something that's not mine to hold. I should've stopped hoping a long time ago." He glanced around at his friends. "Sorry, guys. I guess I just needed to hear it out loud."

Mina reached for him, "Sero, wait—"

But he was already turning, already walking away, ignoring the sound of his name being called behind him. He didn't stop. He didn't want to cry—not in front of them. Not when Bakugou's words were still burning in his chest like salt in an open wound.

Even if the truth stung, Bakugou wasn't wrong.

He was pathetic. Crying over someone who clearly didn't feel the same. Pining over stolen moments and soft smiles like they meant something. Like they meant anything.

But they didn't. Todoroki loves Midoriya.

And Sero... Sero was just the extra.

The friend who made him laugh sometimes, who got to sit close and joke around during training, but nothing more. Nothing that would ever make Todoroki look at him the way Sero looked at him.

Sure, being around him was the highlight of his day. Hearing Todoroki laugh—or that rare, soft smile that felt like it was just for him—made Sero's chest flutter in ways he didn't know how to explain. Even watching his eyes light up when he talked about soba or when he got quietly competitive during training made Sero feel like maybe... just maybe... he mattered.

But that didn't mean anything. It wasn't mutual. It never had been.

And Bakugou's words, though harsh and razor-sharp, forced him to face that ugly truth.

He sighed heavily as the elevator doors closed behind him, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirrored panel. His usually easy-going expression was gone, replaced by dark circles and eyes clouded with exhaustion. He looked like someone who had been holding back too much for too long.

"Pathetic," he muttered to himself, forcing a smile that didn't feel real. He ran a hand through his messy hair, leaning against the wall as the elevator hummed upward. "You're not supposed to fall for your friends, dumbass. Especially not ones who are already in love with someone else."

He let out a bitter laugh, but it quickly turned into a sigh.

He had planned on binging some cute anime to drown his feelings in fluff—something with ridiculous humor and characters falling in love without realizing it. Maybe he'd even pick one with a painfully cheesy romance so he could cry himself to sleep and blame it on the show. Anything to stop this ache that Bakugou's words had ripped wide open.

But when the elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, Sero stepped into the hallway—and froze.

There, sitting slouched by his dorm room door, was a familiar figure.

Messy dual-colored hair, pale fingers tangled in strands of white and red, head tucked between his knees like he was trying to disappear.

Todoroki.

Sero blinked once. Twice. Rubbed his eyes, convinced he was imagining it. No, this wasn't a hallucination. He was really there. Shouto freaking Todoroki, sitting like a lost kid in front of his door.

'Okay... one, did the universe seriously hear me begging earlier? And two—what the hell is he doing sitting in front of my door like a kicked puppy?'

For a second, Sero just stood there, stunned. His heart raced, the same way it always did when Todoroki was close enough that Sero could see every detail—the sharp angle of his jaw, the softness in his eyes, the quiet strength he carried even when slumped like this.

He swallowed hard, forcing his legs to move. He cautiously approached, unsure if he should say something or... poke him? His hand hovered awkwardly before tapping Todoroki gently on the head. No response. Not even a twitch.

"Uh..." Sero frowned, crouching down until he was eye-level with him. "Hey... you alive down there?"

Todoroki stirred at the sound of his voice. Slowly, like a cat waking from a nap, he lifted his head—revealing those tired but unmistakable heterochromatic eyes.

Sero yelped, falling back on his butt like he'd just seen a ghost. "Oh my god! Dude! You—what—why!?"

Todoroki blinked, looking genuinely concerned rather than offended. "Are you okay?"

"N-No! You scared the crap out of me!" Sero wheezed, clutching his chest like he'd aged ten years in one second. His heart was pounding so loud it drowned out the quiet hum of the hallway.

"I'm sorry," Todoroki said earnestly, his voice low and calm in that way that always got under Sero's skin. "I didn't mean to. I just... didn't want to miss you."

Sero's breath hitched.

His heart paused.

"What... are you doing here?" he asked after a beat, his voice quieter now, almost afraid of the answer.

Todoroki looked away, his gaze fixed on the floor as though it held all the answers he couldn't say aloud. "I wanted to talk. About the other day." He hesitated, his hands curling into loose fists on his knees. "I'm sorry I fell on you. I'm sorry I made you hit your head. And I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. I just... I thought you'd be mad. Or... not want to be friends anymore."

Sero blinked at him, his mind blank for a second.

That was it? That was the reason? Not rumors? Not awkward tension? Just... guilt?

'He's so dense it physically hurts.'

"So, wait," Sero said slowly, like he was talking to a child. "You've been ghosting me because you thought I was mad about a bump on the head?"

Todoroki nodded slowly, his expression completely serious.

"And not because people were talking or... giving us weird looks?"

Another shake of the head.

Sero stared at him for a long second before sighing and dragging his hands down his face. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Is there something else?" Todoroki asked, his brows furrowed as if he was genuinely confused.

"Nope. Just... trying to make sense of your logic." Sero chuckled softly, but it lacked any real humor.

Todoroki nodded like that explained everything, then after a pause, added softly, "You're not mad, right?"

Sero's chest softened. "No, man. It was an accident."

The tension in Todoroki's shoulders eased instantly, like someone had just cut invisible strings holding him too tightly. Relief washed over his face like warm sunlight breaking through gray clouds.

"But..." Sero hesitated, his voice dropping into something vulnerable, "I thought I did something wrong. I thought you didn't want me around anymore."

Todoroki's lips parted, his eyes widening slightly as if Sero's words had knocked the breath out of him. He looked down out of shame. He didn't mean for the other to feel that way.

He really had a hard time communicating with others.

Midoriya told him about his issues—about how it's okay to talk, to open up—but... it was hard.

It's hard when you've spent your whole life building walls so no one can hurt you. It's hard when you don't even know what's safe to feel.

He was afraid of getting hurt. He thought Midoriya wouldn't hurt him, but promises were fragile things.

They broke.

Then, warm fingers threaded through his hair. He flinched at the unexpected touch but stopped when he looked up to see Sero smiling down at him, his hand ruffling his hair in that familiar, soothing way that made Todoroki's chest feel warm.

"I know communicating is hard sometimes but..." Sero's voice was gentle, "I just hope one day you won't be afraid anymore."

Todoroki's eyes lit up, just slightly, and for a moment, the heaviness in his chest loosened. Who knew he would miss the other's presence and head rubs this much?

The truth was, it wasn't easy for Todoroki to not talk to Sero for even a single day. That realization had startled him. He'd never really needed someone before—not like this. But ever since they started hanging out, ever since Sero's laughter and laid-back warmth had seeped into his days, Todoroki had gotten used to it. Depended on it.

Yesterday had been the worst. Everyone's whispers and judgmental stares were crushing, and he wanted nothing more than to talk to Sero about it, but guilt made him stay silent. And then Midoriya—Midoriya, who was supposed to be his friend—had brushed him off coldly. Like he didn't matter.

It broke something in him.

He'd come back to his dorm furious, froze his entire room, and had to sit in the corner, controlling his fire so he wouldn't burn the place down. The only thing that had calmed him... was remembering Sero's hand in his hair.

And now, feeling that hand again, all of those heavy thoughts—the judgment, the negative voices, even the sting of Midoriya's rejection—melted away.

Sero chuckled softly when he noticed the younger boy nodding off under his touch, his head tilting like a sleepy cat being scratched just right. As cute as this was, he couldn't let Todoroki sleep in the hallway.

"Roki," he called softly, stopping the head rub.

Todoroki blinked slowly, lifting his head just enough to meet Sero's gaze. That gentle smile was still there, patient and warm.

"If we're going to be friends, don't go through your problems alone. Let me help you, okay?"

Todoroki's face softened, his lips parting. He'd heard that phrase before—but this time, it sounded real. Safe. He nodded slowly.

"Okay."

Sero grinned, standing and offering his hand. "Wanna read some manga?"

Todoroki looked at the offered hand, hesitating only a moment before looking back up. The smile on Sero's face was so soft, so inviting, that Todoroki's cheeks warmed before he even realized it.

'Am I... sick?' Todoroki thought, flustered.

"Roki?" Sero tilted his head, his grin growing a little more nervous.

The bi-colored boy snapped out of his thoughts and grabbed the hand. "Sure."

Sero's grin became even brighter as he pulled the younger boy up, and suddenly they were face-to-face. Close enough to feel each other's breath.

Neither of them noticed they were still holding hands. Neither of them wanted to let go.

Time stopped. Just like during their hero training, there was this jolt—a spark neither of them could ignore. Sero's eyes glimmered, and Todoroki felt an unfamiliar warmth spreading inside him, like a flame that wouldn't burn but instead made him feel... lighter.

He wasn't embarrassed this time. No knots twisting in his stomach.

Just... flutters. A strange, dizzying fuzziness that felt almost good.

'I don't know what's happening to me... but I don't want it to stop. I hope... I hope being with Sero will help me figure it out.'

"Roki," Sero whispered.

"Yes," Todoroki answered in the same soft tone.

"You know you missed our Spanish lesson yesterday, right?" Sero teased with a crooked smile.

Todoroki didn't take it as a joke. His brows furrowed. "I know. But I did learn something before our training."

Sero raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? What?"

The younger hummed thoughtfully, trying to recall the words. Sero's heart skipped as he watched him—really watched him. Every second he spent with Todoroki just made him fall harder. And then, there was the hand-holding. The fact that Todoroki hadn't let go yet made his face burn.

'Holy shit. He's holding my hand!?'

"Oh!" Todoroki suddenly said, snapping Sero out of his thoughts.

"What is it?"

"It was something like... Estoy muy f-feliz de t-tener un amigo c-como tú."

(I'm very happy to have a friend like you)

Sero's smile faltered just for a second. 'Friend... yes. Friend.'

Todoroki's face fell. "Did I say something wrong?"

Sero blinked, forcing a smile back onto his face, even if it didn't reach his eyes. He shook his head. "No, no, you said it perfectly~"

But Todoroki knew. He could feel it wasn't Sero's usual grin. He felt a strange pang in his chest, like he had let him down.

Before he could ask, Sero reached out and ruffled his hair again. "Come on, mi amigo, let's read some manga and watch some anime!"

The pink dusting Todoroki's cheeks deepened as the older boy's hand squeezed his.

He nodded shyly.

"O-Ok."

Chapter 7: Allergic

Notes:

Just ordered some anime figures, so I'm just chilling. Also back to school kinda sucks sooooo~

Third Person POV :

"Uh..."

"Am I seeing this right?"

"Yes, and it's confusing. Like... are they dating or what?"

Mina, Kirishima, and Denki sat frozen with their lunches halfway to their mouths as they openly stared at the scene unfolding in front of them.

Sero was casually eating his enchiladas, completely unfazed, while Todoroki had his head resting on Sero's shoulder, deeply engrossed in a volume of Banana Fish. His brows occasionally furrowed or lifted, and every now and then, he would let out a quiet gasp or mumble under his breath about the plot.

It was domestic. Unnaturally so.

Ever since that night—the one by Sero's dorm door where walls cracked and truths almost slipped out—Sero and Todoroki had become... well, inseparable.

It didn't happen slowly either. No, it was like flipping a switch.

Todoroki, ever reserved, had made a quiet but firm decision: he trusted Sero. And trust, for him, meant showing up.

Whether it was dragging Sero to study sessions, waiting outside his classroom just to walk with him to lunch, or appearing in his dorm at ungodly hours because "I couldn't sleep and your room is warmer," Todoroki had found comfort in Sero's presence.

And Sero? He was dying.

He'd been in love with Todoroki for months—quietly, painfully, and entirely without hope. But now? Now Todoroki was casually laying on him like it was the most normal thing in the world, like Sero's heartbeat wasn't pounding in his ears every time their skin touched.

To the outside world, this entire thing looked suspiciously like a relationship. And to their friends—who were currently watching them like they were front-row at a drama show—it was infuriatingly ambiguous.

Denki leaned in and whispered to Mina, "Why is this low-key more romantic than any shoujo I've ever seen?"

Mina nodded solemnly. "I feel like I'm watching the slowest burn in history. Like, painfully slow."

Kirishima sighed, resting his chin in his hand. "I swear if one of them doesn't confess soon, I might just lose it."

Meanwhile, Sero was doing everything in his power not to combust. His shoulders were stiff, his face frozen in an attempted neutral smile, but his internal monologue was anything but calm.

'He's leaning on me again. His hair smells like that weird jasmine shampoo he borrowed from Mina. His head is so warm. Is this what dying from happiness feels like? I can't feel my arm. Am I smiling? Am I crying? Help.'

He snapped out of his spiral when Todoroki suddenly gasped. "Sero! Someone named Jessica just pulled a shotgun!"

Sero blinked. Then laughed. "Oh yeah, that part. Don't worry, it's not what it seems."

Todoroki squinted suspiciously at the page, then slowly nodded. "Okay... but I swear, if anything happens to Ash or Eiji, I will be very upset."

Sero chuckled. "You and half the fandom."

Todoroki mumbled something that sounded vaguely threatening before going quiet again. His head remained nestled against Sero's shoulder like it belonged there. And honestly, Sero wasn't sure if he'd survive this lunch period.

When he looked back across the table, he was met with three pairs of wide, suspicious, and mildly horrified eyes.

"What?" he asked, voice flat.

Denki gestured between him and Todoroki like it was obvious. "This. You two. The cuddles. The manga sharing. The domesticity."

Sero blinked. "It's not... cuddles."

Mina deadpanned, "Babe, he is literally leaning on your shoulder while you feed him narrative spoilers like a loving boyfriend."

"It's just—! He's really into the story and he... gets overwhelmed sometimes?" Sero tried.

"Ohhh my god," Denki groaned, slumping dramatically into Kirishima's side. "They're basically married."

"I'm just saying," Kirishima said with a little grin, "this wouldn't be so confusing if you weren't obviously in you know with him."

Sero immediately choked on his food. "What?! No! I mean, I—! That's not—!"

"Sero..." Mina leaned across the table, raising an eyebrow. "We know. We've known. You light up like a firework every time he breathes in your direction."

"Can we please talk about this later?" Sero hissed under his breath, eyes darting toward Todoroki—who, thank god, seemed too immersed in his book to hear them.

Denki was about to say something snarky, but Mina just gave him a pointed look and mouthed, Not now. He relented with a small nod.

"Fine," she said with a sigh, "but you owe us answers."

Sero gave her a grateful grin. "Gracias."

Then, unexpectedly, a quiet voice murmured from below. "Thank you."

Sero glanced down and blinked. Todoroki hadn't looked up from his book, but his voice was soft and genuine.

A small, dopey smile bloomed across Sero's face.

Kirishima groaned dramatically. "Nope. I can't. I can't sit through another lunch like this."

"I'm giving them two weeks," Mina said with a grin. "Max. And then someone is either kissing or confessing—or I'm locking them in a closet."

"I'd pay to see that," Denki added.

"Eat your food, you clowns," Sero muttered, rolling his eyes—though he was still smiling. He didn't say it aloud, but part of him hoped Mina was right.

And maybe—just maybe—he'd be brave enough to hope that Todoroki wanted the same thing too.

Before anyone could say more, Denki grinned devilishly and clapped his hands. "Anyways! Kiri, why don't you tell the group the fun little thing that happened to you recently?"

Kirishima froze mid-bite. Slowly, he looked up at Denki, who was smirking like he had the entire next plot twist memorized.

"Oh no," Kirishima muttered.

Denki was already leaning forward across the table, rubbing his hands together with dramatic flair. "So! During cleanup duty at Ground Beta, when we saw some girls who were helping with that parent tour, Kiri here—shirt off, mind you—gets approached by this third-year girl giving the tour."

"Ohhh~" Mina squealed, practically vibrating in place. "This already sounds like a romance subplot."

"Oh Kiri," Sero sang with a mischievous grin, wiggling his eyebrows. "You sly dog."

Kirishima groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Guys, c'mon..."

But Denki wasn't done. "She walks right up to him—like, locked in—and asks him for his number. Full eye contact. Like she was ready to devour him."

"She did not," Kirishima tried to argue, face turning steadily more crimson than his hair.

"She so did!" Denki beamed. "She had that look. You know that look. She was thirsty."

Kirishima smacked Denki's arm hard enough to make his tray rattle, but the blond only laughed harder. Mina giggled and leaned closer to Kiri.

"So... was she cute?" she asked, playful but genuinely curious.

Kirishima's ears turned scarlet. "I—I mean, yeah, I guess?"

"She was hot, Mina," Denki interrupted. "I'm lowkey mad she didn't ask me instead."

"That's because she could smell the desperation on you," a voice interrupted—dry and venomous.

Everyone turned.

Bakugou was sitting a few seats down, glaring across the table, his fork clenched in one hand like he might stab someone with it. His voice cut through the chaos like a blade, but his face remained eerily calm—too calm.

Kirishima visibly gulped.

Sero leaned back slightly. 'Oh man, Kiri's dead.'

"Whatever, Bakubro," Denki said with a dismissive wave. "I'm just happy our boy here is finally getting some attention."

"Yeah," Mina added, "you should be proud, Kiri!"

Sero watched Bakugou's fork bend slightly in his grip.

'Okay,' he thought. 'He's gonna explode in three... two...'

But then, Todoroki looked up from his book.

"I thought you liked Bakugou, Kirishima?"

The table went dead silent.

Mina spit her water across the table. Denki dropped his chopsticks. Sero blinked so hard he forgot how to breathe.

Kirishima went rigid, the color draining from his face like someone had pulled a plug.

The air turned heavy—all tension, no oxygen.

Even the noise of other tables felt distant now, like the lunchroom was holding its breath.

Bakugou's hand froze mid-cut through his katsudon.

Todoroki tilted his head slightly, frowning at the silence. "Was I wrong?" he asked, turning toward Sero with a genuinely confused look.

Sero's mouth opened, then closed.

Denki quietly facepalmed. "Oh my god..."

Before anyone could break the silence or laugh it off or smooth it over, Bakugou stood up. Not angrily—no dramatic stomping or yelling—but stiffly. Controlled. Too controlled.

Without a word, he turned and walked away.

Kirishima jolted like something inside him snapped. His eyes followed the blonde's retreating figure, horror dawning on his face.

"Bakugou—wait—!" he muttered, barely audible, but Bakugou didn't turn.

Kirishima hesitated for half a second longer, then shoved his tray aside and got up fast, chair scraping loudly against the floor. His expression crumpled with something heartbreakingly close to shame.

Mina was already on her feet. "Kiri!"

She ran after him, calling his name, weaving between tables.

Denki let out a long, dramatic groan and shoved his tray forward with a loud clack. "Well. That was a disaster."

His eyes flicked toward Todoroki, sharp with a tinge of exasperation. "You just dropped a bomb and walked away like it was a bedtime story."

Todoroki blinked, his head tilting in that emotionless, robotic way he always did when confused. "I didn't mean to. I thought it was... common knowledge?"

"It was," Sero muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing like a tired office worker. "But there's a time and a place, man. And that definitely wasn't it."

Denki stood with a huff and grabbed his tray, his voice quieter now. "I'll go check on Kiri. This is gonna be a thing for a while."

Sero gave him a small, distracted nod. "L-Later, dude."

As Denki turned and walked away, the mood at the table shifted into something heavier—like wet clothes clinging to skin. All that remained now was a tense silence and the unspoken weight between Sero and Todoroki.

Sero dragged a hand down his face. "Aw, shit."

This really was a mess. Bakugou's nonchalant exit didn't help either. Now the next few weeks were going to be full of weird silences, awkward eye contact, and probably a few doors slammed unnecessarily hard.

"Just great," he muttered, glancing to his left.

Todoroki was sitting rigidly, his eyes glued to his tray like it had the answers to life itself. His fingers were twitching against his chopsticks. Sero exhaled and forced himself to sound casual.

"You didn't say anything wrong."

Todoroki's eyes flicked toward him, unsure. "I feel like I did."

Sero gave a lazy shrug, even though he agreed—a little—on the timing. "Look, Kiri's had a crush on Bakugou for months. We've been practically holding an intervention every other week trying to get him to confess, but he keeps backing down. Bakugou—being Bakugou—doesn't make it easy. The longer this drags on, the worse Kiri's been feeling about himself. So maybe it's better this way. At least now it's out in the open."

Todoroki stared at him like he'd grown two heads. Sero just kept eating, like it wasn't a big deal.

"The way you said it wasn't perfect," he added, "but it needed to be said. You just... ripped the Band-Aid off."

Todoroki's lips parted slightly, then closed again. His cheeks were faintly flushed as he glanced down at his soba. He looked almost... sheepish.

Sero noticed, and despite everything, couldn't help but smile.

"Roki, you're too cute for me."

The words were out before he could stop them.

Todoroki's brows pinched. "I'm not cute."

Sero clicked his tongue and leaned forward, teasing, "Yes you are~"

Todoroki narrowed his eyes. "I'm not. I'm the opposite of cute."

"Oh really now?" Sero grinned, his eyes gleaming as he poked his tongue into his cheek, clearly enjoying this way too much.

Todoroki grabbed his manga and flipped it open in front of his face like a shield. "Yes."

Sero watched him hide, still smirking. His heart was hammering now, but something impulsive took over—something loud and stupid that lived right between his ribs.

He scooted closer and gently tugged the book from Todoroki's hands, placing it down.

Todoroki blinked at him, startled. "What are you—?"

"You're cute," Sero said, this time quieter but firmer.

Todoroki's eyes widened. He looked frozen.

Sero kept his smirk, but inside?

Absolute panic.

'WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY, SERO!? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMN MIND?! REBOOT, REBOOT, MAYDAY—'

He snapped out of his inner chaos when he saw how red Todoroki's face was getting—bright red spreading across pale cheeks like blooming cherry blossoms.

Unable to resist, Sero reached over and pinched one of them gently. "See? Cute."

Todoroki just stared—wide-eyed, red-faced, and visibly short-circuiting. His hands twitched with flickers of both ice and fire, a chaotic contradiction of temperature that gave away everything he wasn't saying.

But he didn't move.
Didn't swat Sero's hand.
Didn't run.
He just... stayed.

Sero leaned back slowly, the teasing smirk melting into something softer, more genuine.

"Roki," he asked, voice low and careful, "wanna hang out after lunch?"

The bi-colored boy blinked, still in the middle of a full-body reboot. "What about class?"

Sero shrugged, casual but not careless. "Let's ditch. I'm really not in the mood to deal with Bakugou's drama parade."

Todoroki poked at his soba, not answering right away. The silence stretched—just long enough for Sero to start second-guessing.

'Crap. Maybe that was too much. He's gonna think I'm an idiot. Or worse—clingy. Did I just ruin everything? Yep. Great job, Hanta.'

But then—

"...Okay."

Sero blinked. "Wait—really?"

Todoroki nodded, wiping his mouth with that calm, deliberate composure of his, as if they hadn't just made eye contact across an emotional earthquake.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Relief hit Sero like an ocean wave, his shoulders finally unlocking. "Sweet! Let's roll."

Todoroki nodded again, and the two stood. They cleaned up their mess in sync—quiet, unspoken, but comfortable. Once their trays were put up and their bags slung over shoulders, they walked out of the cafeteria together, slipping through the school's front doors like a pair of quiet rebels.

Sero stretched his arms behind his head, glancing over. "Okay, Roki. What now?"

"I assumed you had a plan," Todoroki said without looking, his voice flat—but teasing, if you knew how to hear it.

Sero grinned. "Well~ we could hit the bookstore, browse some manga, then grab a snack or something. Sound good?"

"That sounds good."

"Awesome. Let's go then, my little outlaw."

Todoroki didn't dignify that nickname with a response—just shot Sero a side glance that was half glare, half blush. Still, he followed the taller boy without hesitation.

He had never ditched class before. Not once. Not even close.

And yet... with Sero, it didn't feel like he was doing something wrong. It just felt—right. Natural. Easy.

That was something he'd started noticing more lately.

Whenever Sero asked him to do something, or invited him somewhere, it was hard—really hard—to say no. Like gravity pulled him toward him.

Sero gravity.

That had to be the scientific term.

He sighed internally. Because now he was sure something was happening to his body—and his emotions—and it all seemed to trace back to one person.

He'd been running quiet tests over the last few days. Stealthily. Subtle. Like emotional experiments in a lab.

When Sero left the common room to use the bathroom the other day, Todoroki tried starting a one-on-one conversation with Denki. He talked. He waited. He observed.

Nothing. No heat in his chest. No twitch in his fingers. No dizziness.

Same with Mina. Still normal.

Kirishima? Zero symptoms.

Even Bakugou—though that one ended with Bakugou threatening to blast him for "hovering like a damn ghost"—didn't set off any reactions.

But then Sero would come back into the room, toss a grin over his shoulder, and suddenly it was like Todoroki had swallowed a live firework.

He'd reached a conclusion.

He was allergic to Sero.

Unfortunate. But undeniable.

The symptoms were clear: shortness of breath, increased heart rate, facial overheating, spontaneous fire-and-ice activation, and, most damning of all, a loss of logical thought.

'Maybe it's his hair,' Todoroki thought miserably. 'Or his voice. Or the way he speaks Spanish. That can't be legal.'

He didn't want it to stop, though. That was the worst part. He liked being around Sero. He liked listening to his ridiculous stories. He liked how he made everything—even silence—feel light.

But still.

Allergic.

Definitely allergic.

"—Todoroki!"

He jerked out of his thoughts just in time to see a blur of color and motion.

A car horn.

A step off the curb.

And a hand—warm and tight—snapping around his wrist and yanking him backward.

Todoroki stumbled into Sero's chest with a startled breath, blinking rapidly as his brain caught up.

Sero's chocolate-brown eyes were wide, panicked.

"Roki, what the hell?! Were you even looking!?"

Todoroki stared up at him, dazed and embarrassed and very aware of how close they were. "I—I wasn't—"

"I was calling your name," Sero said, breathing heavily. "You didn't hear me. You were just... gone."

The younger boy looked down at the hand still holding his wrist. He didn't pull away.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, guilt rising in his throat. "I was... distracted."

"Yeah, no shit," Sero snapped, but it wasn't harsh. Just scared. His fingers tightened, thumb brushing instinctively over Todoroki's skin.

Todoroki stayed quiet, eyes on the ground. He couldn't look up. Not when he'd made Sero—his Sero—look like that.

Sero sighed deeply and released the breath he'd been holding. He relaxed his shoulders and gave the smallest tug on Todoroki's hand.

"Come on," he said gently. "Let's go."

Todoroki followed without question.

His fingers still tingled from where Sero had grabbed him.

And his heart—yeah. That was still malfunctioning.

But this time, he didn't mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero led Todoroki across the street—quiet and clear of cars this time—his fingers still loosely intertwined with the other's.

What surprised him most wasn't that he'd grabbed Todoroki's hand earlier... but that Todoroki never let go.

He hadn't pulled away. Not even once.

It was strange. One minute, Todoroki had been fine—focused, calm, his usual unreadable self—and the next, he'd completely spaced out, nearly walking into traffic like his brain had gone on vacation.

'Todoroki's usually sharp. Way sharper than me,' Sero thought, sneaking a glance at their still-connected hands. 'Something's up... Is he okay?'

He wanted to ask. But instead, he just gripped Todoroki's hand a little tighter. The contact grounded him. Kept his worry in check.

Sure, he knew Todoroki could handle himself—hell, the guy was a walking natural disaster with two quirks and a deadly stare—but still... Sero wanted to protect him.

Maybe that was dumb. Maybe it didn't make sense. But he felt it anyway.

And he wasn't letting go just yet.

They walked in silence for a while—down the sidewalk, past shop windows and side streets. The quiet between them wasn't awkward. Just... thoughtful. Like they were both stuck in their own heads, but somehow still tethered to each other.

Sero didn't say anything. Todoroki didn't either.

And even as minutes passed, even as they reached the block where the bookstore sat nestled between a flower shop and a small ramen joint, Todoroki still hadn't let go.

By the time they stopped in front of the shop, Sero's heart was beating louder than it should've been.

A wide grin spread across his face as he gestured grandly to the building.

"Ah, mi segundo hogar~" he said with mock-dramatic flair.

Todoroki blinked, finally breaking the silence. "This is your home?" His tone was flat, but curious.

Sero chuckled. "Not technically. But emotionally? Spiritually? Yes. This place has all the good stuff. I'm talking walls of manga. Shelves that reach the ceiling. And—most importantly—they always keep Demon Slayer fully stocked."

Todoroki hummed, eyes drifting toward the entrance. It was the first time he'd really looked at the place.

He didn't think he'd ever been here before.

As a kid, he hadn't been allowed to read manga or anything "non-essential." His father had made sure of that. Training, lectures, combat simulations—those were priorities. Not comics.

He only discovered manga later, secretly reading some at the school library, always checking over his shoulder. Eventually, he bought his first series online—but a physical store like this? Never.

Before he could think too much about it, Sero gave his hand a tug and grinned. "Come on, Roki. You're gonna love it."

Todoroki followed him inside.

The scent hit him immediately—a mix of old paper, vanilla-sweet coffee, and something warm he couldn't place. He looked around, eyes sweeping across the cozy space. Rows and rows of bookshelves curved like a maze. Toward the back, nestled between two aisles, was a small café counter, where a barista was pouring whipped cream into a tall iced drink.

'So that's the smell.'

Coffee and stories.

Sero took a deep breath like he was inhaling a dream. "Ahhh~ Joe's Coffee never misses."

Todoroki watched him for a second—watched how his face softened, how his whole body seemed to relax in the space—and realized this wasn't just a favorite place. This was a comfort zone.

A safe one.

Before he could say anything, Sero turned back to him with a bright smile and gently squeezed his hand again. "Come on. I wanna show you something."

Still hand-in-hand, he pulled Todoroki toward a corner of the store. They stopped at a wide display shelf, nearly overflowing with brightly colored manga volumes, arranged like treasure.

Sero stopped in front of it like a proud parent. "This, Roki, is the best place ever."

Todoroki tilted his head, examining the wall. "They're just mangas."

Sero gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest like he'd been mortally wounded. "Just mangas? Just? These are icons, legends! Look—you've got One Punch Man, Fruits Basket, Assassination Classroom, Heaven Official's Blessing—"

"I can read the titles," Todoroki interrupted, calmly.

Sero paused, ears turning pink. "R-Right. Sorry. Got a little excited."

Todoroki crouched down to examine the lower shelf, his fingers brushing along the spines of several series. His eyes caught on a familiar title. He pulled out a pristine copy.

"They have all the Banana Fish volumes," he said quietly.

Sero, now thumbing through a Demon Slayer set, leaned down next to him. "Yeah, I saw that. Tempting, right? But I already own them all, so I'm good."

Todoroki nodded, flipping through the pages with quiet curiosity. Then his gaze drifted to another shelf—clean lines, sharp contrasts, and a bold, minimalist cover that caught his eye: One Punch Man.

He reached for it, fingers brushing the glossy spine.

A hum of interest escaped him.

Without a word, Todoroki lowered himself to the carpeted floor, crossing his legs as he cracked the volume open. The world seemed to blur around him the second his eyes landed on the first page.

Sero blinked, then smiled, heart doing a quiet little somersault.

"Well, guess that's what we're doing," he said with a soft chuckle, stretching his arms overhead. "I'm gonna go hunt down that romance novel I've been trying to find. Be right back, yeah?"

"Mm," Todoroki hummed, already lost in the panels.

Sero shook his head fondly and turned, weaving through the maze of shelves. As he walked toward the romance section, a slow pit started to grow in his stomach—an uncomfortable, nagging twist of guilt.

He stopped walking.

His smile faded.

'Kirishima's probably having the worst day of his life,' he thought bitterly. 'And I'm out here living my shojo fantasy like it's a filler episode. Some friend I am.'

He ran a hand down his face with a sigh, mentally kicking himself. He was about to turn around and call it quits when his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket.

He fished it out and saw the name: Mina.

"Oh no," he muttered.

He answered the call. "Hello?"

"SERO, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

Sero yanked the phone away from his ear. "Damn, Mina! Why are you screaming like I owe you money?"

"Answer the question!"

"I'm at the bookstore. Why, what happened? Is Kiri okay?"

"Oh, now you care about your friend? After you ditched us—and school—to go frolicking around town with your crush?"

Sero winced. That one hit below the belt. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry. I was gonna head back right—"

"No, shut it. That's not why I called you."

He paused. "...Then what is it?"

On the other end, he heard her take a deep breath—one of those dramatic "sit down and listen" breaths Mina loved so much.

"Okay! So, after your airhead of a crush accidentally blurted out Kiri's secret, Kiri had a whole emotional breakdown in the locker room. I, being the amazing friend that I am, comforted him. We talked. We cried. Then Denki came and we had a bestie group hug... but wait! That's not all!"

Sero groaned. "I'm already stressed and you're giving me plot twists?"

"LISTEN! So guess who walked in while we were hugging Kiri and being adorable?"

"Let me guess. Satan?"

"Close!  Bakugou . Blonde devil himself."

Sero stiffened. "Oh no."

"Oh yes," Mina said smugly. "We were ready to throw hands—but shocker of all shocks, he wasn't mad. He actually wanted to talk to Kiri. Alone. Denki and I said no, obviously, but Kiri said it was okay. So we left..."

"You left Kiri with Bakugou?!"

"Correction: we pretended to leave. We hid behind the door. Because we have brains, Sero."

Sero dragged a hand down his face. "You're killing me here."

"Anyway, we didn't hear most of what they said, but then—THEN—Bakugou started yelling. We almost busted in, but then we saw it."

"...Saw what, Mina?"

She squealed so loudly he had to pull the phone away again.

"THEY  HUGGED . And then—AND THEN—KIRISHIMA  KISSED  HIM. HIS FIRST. KISS."

Sero's jaw dropped. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

"I KNOW, RIGHT?! And that's not even the best part. Denki and I kinda squealed too loud... and they noticed."

"Oh no."

"Oh YES. Bakugou's face was so red I thought he was about to spontaneously combust. Then he used his quirk on us and we ran for our lives. But I think—they're dating now. Like officially."

A slow, wide grin spread across Sero's face. "That's... actually amazing. I'm really happy for them."

"Right?! Kiri was glowing afterward. But, uh... there's a catch."

His smile faded. "What kind of catch?"

"Well..." Mina hesitated. "So the teachers are super pissed you and Todoroki ditched. Especially Aizawa. Like, we're talking 'death glare level ten' mad."

Sero facepalmed. "Oh my god..."

"And also... Bakugou's kinda... coming for your entire existence right now."

"What? Why me?!"

"Well, because Kiri was really upset earlier and said something like, 'Even Sero ditched me,' and then Bakugou went into full-on boyfriend mode and now he's blaming you and Todoroki for everything."

Sero groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't mean to ditch anyone..."

"I know, and Kiri knows too. He wasn't mad, just sad. Said you always know what to say when he needs you."

Sero went quiet. That... that hit differently.

After a beat, he whispered, "I'll talk to him. As soon as I get back."

"You better. But Bakugou might murder you first."

"Great. Can't wait."

There was a pause.

"...So~ how's your date going?" Mina asked in a sing-song voice.

Sero immediately hung up.

He looked down at his phone with a groan, shaking his head. "Ay, Dios mío..."

Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he walked deeper into the romance section, thoughts spinning. Despite the chaos, he was glad Kiri was okay—really okay.

Now, all he had to do was survive Bakugou's wrath and make it back in one piece.

And maybe... find those Crimson Riot comics Kirishima loved so much.

It was the least he could do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Here's your change."

"Thank you!"

Sero smiled politely at the cashier and grabbed his receipt and bag, the plastic rustling in his hand. He stepped out into the evening air, the late fall sky painted in streaks of purple and orange, the streetlamps just beginning to flicker on.

The breeze hit his face—warm, sticky with city heat—but... something felt off.

He paused, halfway down the sidewalk, turning slowly.

'Where was—'

"Goddammit," Sero muttered under his breath, already pivoting back inside.

Sure enough, right where he’d left him, Todoroki stood motionless in the manga aisle. Bags dangling off one hand like he didn’t even know they were there, eyes glued to the second volume of One Punch Man, lips slightly parted in concentration.

“Bro,” Sero groaned, jogging over.

He gently tugged on Todoroki’s wrist. "Let’s go, man. You already bought the whole series."

Todoroki barely reacted. His feet moved, but his gaze remained locked on the page. Sero had to guide him like a sleepwalker out of the shop.

Outside, the sounds of the city greeted them: the rumble of cars, chatter from nearby cafés, someone blasting music across the plaza. Neon signs buzzed overhead. But Todoroki might as well have been on another planet.

"Roki? Come on."

Todoroki didn't look up but slowly walked over next to Sero, still focused on the pages in his hand. Sero shook his head, remembering earlier when Todoroki had nearly walked into traffic, lost in his thoughts.

'I can't let the same thing happen again.'

"Roki?"

"Hm?"

"We're leaving now."

"Okay."

Sero noticed the younger wasn't really paying attention, and a scoff escaped him. He reached out and grabbed the book from Todoroki's hands.

"Hey, I was reading that."

"You need to pay attention. Didn't you remember what almost happened before we got here?"

Todoroki rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "It wasn't that bad."

Sero gave him a 'really?' look.

Todoroki retrieved the book again and said quietly, "This book is really interesting. And... you were there. You saved me."

Sero's face immediately flushed bright red. Never in a million years did he expect to hear Todoroki say you and saved me in the same breath.

Everyone knew Sero was a sucker for compliments, but hearing it from Todoroki—someone so capable, so independent—felt like a shock straight to his heart. It was, honestly, life-changing.

Then Todoroki did something that made Sero's heart nearly stop: he reached out and took Sero's hand.

"There," Todoroki said softly. "You can guide me while I read. I really want to know Geno's backstory."

Sero looked down at their hands. Todoroki was holding his, and Sero's face turned an even deeper shade of scarlet. Sure, they'd held hands before—but this time, he took the initiative.

'Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.'

"Your face is red again," Todoroki sulked, sounding a little like he was scolding him. "I think we should go see Recovery Girl."

"N-no, it's nothing!" Sero blurted, waving his hands nervously.

"Yes it is," Todoroki said, stepping closer until the heat from his body radiated into Sero's skin. "You've been like this ever since we started hanging out."

'Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck.'

Sero's brain scrambled as Todoroki's face drew closer. He could hardly breathe, barely blink. All he knew was that the love of his life was inches away, lips almost within reach.

Todoroki blinked and noticed the way Sero was staring at him. His expression changed to concern—the same look he had worn earlier at lunch. He leaned back with a worried frown.

'His face is red like mine,' Todoroki thought. 'He looks like he's seen a ghost... or maybe he has allergies... maybe allergic to me?'

That thought made Todoroki sulk. Meanwhile, Sero turned his back to catch his breath and sort out the chaos in his head. He wanted to ask all the questions flooding his mind:

'Why was Todoroki so close? What if I moved up a little—would we be kissing here in front of the bookstore? Or would he just kick my ass?'

These questions need answers!

His heart pounded in his ears. His face felt like it was on fire, as if Todoroki had actually ignited his quirk on him. His palms grew sweaty, and it felt like his face might just explode from the heat.

The intensity was the same as during their training sessions—the closeness, the silence, the electric tension.

'Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!'

Sero couldn't believe he was standing there like that—frozen, breath caught somewhere between his lungs and heart, staring at Todoroki like the universe had just yanked the floor from under him.

One wrong move.
One holy move, as he liked to think.

Just one tilt of the head, one accidental lean-in, and maybe—just maybe—they'd share a kiss. It would've been ridiculous. Hilarious, even. Two awkward teens in a front of a bookstore, surrounded by strangers and manga in their hands, kissing like it was the final scene of a rom-com.

He shut his eyes, sucked in a breath, tried to steady the riot in his chest.

But when he opened them... Todoroki was gone.

Sero spun, disoriented, scanning the terminal.

There—walking ahead like nothing had happened, bags in hand, cool and unbothered like always.

"Are you serious right now?" Sero scoffed under his breath and muttered in Spanish, "Qué grosero..."

( How rude)

He grabbed his bags and jogged to catch up.

"Yo, why'd you bail on me?" he asked, falling into step beside him.

No answer. Todoroki kept walking, eyes ahead, expression unreadable.

Sero rolled his eyes. "Is it 'cause I took your manga? Look, I get that One Punch Man is good and all, but I don't think it's that amazing—"

Todoroki suddenly halted mid-step.

Sero barely managed to stop in time, skidding a bit on the concrete ground. “What the hell?”

Then Todoroki spoke, voice low, strained. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore.”

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t angry. But it hit Sero like a metal pipe to the ribs.

He blinked, once, twice, stunned silent. “…Wait. What?”

“I don’t think we should be friends,” Todoroki repeated, this time a little slower, more deliberate. His eyes stayed on the floor, like he couldn’t bear to see Sero’s face. “It’s confusing. I can’t—keep doing this.”

The plastic handles of Sero’s shopping bag bit into his fingers as his arm went slack, the whole thing dropping to the ground with a thud that seemed far too loud for such a moment. His heart stuttered in his chest, like it had forgotten the rhythm.

“No. Nope. Hold on.” He stepped forward, placing himself directly in Todoroki’s path. “You don’t just drop a bomb like that and walk off. We just had that whole talk about communication last week, remember? No assumptions, no silent suffering." 

Todoroki didn’t move.

“So,” Sero pressed, eyes searching his face, “what’s going on? What did I do? Was it the manga? I’ll literally buy you ten volumes right now. Hell, I’ll cosplay Saitama at the next school festival if that’s what it takes—just talk to me, Roki.”

Todoroki’s cheeks flared with actual color—warmth blooming under his pale skin like dawn creeping up on a glacier. A tiny, nearly imperceptible flame flickered at the edge of his bangs and vanished just as quickly.

“That’s it!” he suddenly blurted, eyes narrowing.

Sero flinched. “What is?!”

“You,” Todoroki said, tone flat and almost accusing. “You’re what’s wrong.”

A gust of air escaped Sero’s lungs as if he’d been gut-punched. “Me?”

Todoroki’s brows knit together in frustration. “Every time we hang out, I get all… weird. My face gets hot. My stomach twists. When we watched that movie in your room last week, I genuinely thought I was dying. I assumed it was food poisoning. But then it happened again, and again, and—”

He gestured vaguely at the space between them.

“It’s not food. It’s you. You do this to me.”

Sero stared, mouth parted. “Wait… are you saying you—?”

“I’m allergic to you,” Todoroki said with a deadpan seriousness that only made it more ridiculous.

Silence.

Pure, baffled silence.

Sero blinked slowly, then again, trying to process it. The sheer absurdity of it practically short-circuited his brain.

“…That is one of the craziest things I have ever heard,” he said flatly.

Todoroki’s eyes dropped to the floor again, the tips of his ears flushing pink.

Sero bit back a laugh—he really did—but the absurdity was giving way to something else. Something fragile. “Wait, wait—so this whole time… that wasn’t just you being awkward? That was you thinking you were, like, medically allergic to me?”

Todoroki mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “no,” but it was too quiet to confirm.

Sero stepped forward again, slower this time. Carefully. Like Todoroki might bolt.

He reached out, curling his fingers gently around Todoroki’s wrist. Their skin touched—warm, familiar—and Todoroki didn’t pull away.

Sero looked him straight in the eye, voice softer now. “Answer a few questions for me. Truthfully.”

Todoroki hesitated, then nodded.

Sero inhaled deep, steadying himself. “Okay. Number one: Did you mean it? About not being friends?”

A pause. 

“…No.”

“Number two: Do you like hanging out with me?”

“Yes.”

“Number three…” He licked his lips, nervous. “That heat in your face, and the stomach thing… does that happen with anyone else?”

Todoroki looked confused for a second, then shook his head. “No. Just you.”

The world around them blurred for a beat. The people walking by. The chatter of a nearby group of students. A baby crying somewhere in the distance. It all faded.

Sero felt like his chest was about to cave in. He covered it up with a shaky laugh and coughed.

“Okay. That’s all I needed. Cool. Cool cool cool…”

He glanced around, desperate to ground himself—anything to anchor the storm inside him. His eyes landed on a coffee shop across the hall, then immediately shifted to the glittering pink storefront beside it—a fashion boutique with a mannequin wearing a neon tutu and feather boa.

He winced. “Let’s not have a friendship break-up outside that place. Wanna grab coffee instead? Neutral ground?”

Todoroki tilted his head, eyes flicking between the coffee shop and Sero. After a beat, he nodded.

“Okay.”

They began walking, a little slower this time, as if the space between them was fragile—like glass, newly mended.

Sero caught Todoroki sneaking a glance at him again. His face was still pink, his brows knit together in that quiet storm he always wore when his emotions were just under the surface.

Sero smiled softly. “Hey, Roki?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not an allergy.”

Todoroki paused. “…Then what is it?”

Sero bumped his shoulder lightly, and for once, Todoroki didn’t pull away. He leaned into it.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sero said with a lopsided grin. “Over coffee. And maybe a donut.”

Todoroki glanced at him again—and though he didn’t smile, his eyes did.

“…Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"Here you go!"

I snapped out of the mental wormhole I'd been spiraling into just in time to see the waitress—mid-teens maybe, cheerful, probably not paid enough for emotional whiplash—placing my dessert and drink gently on the table. A little whipped cream teetered at the edge of the glass like it was threatening to slide off into oblivion, much like my sense of control.

I blinked. My brain stalled, gears catching up like they hadn’t been oiled in days. I scrambled for a smile. Polite. Not terrified. 

Not totally in love with the guy across from me.

"Th-Thanks."

She beamed. "No problem! Can I get you anything else?"

Before I could answer, the air changed. I felt it like a pressure drop in a storm. That familiar chill crawled up my spine—sharp, cold, like dry ice skating across skin.

Oh no.

Roki was glaring at her like she'd insulted his entire lineage. You'd think she spilled boiling soup in his lap or something. His expression had that frozen-over edge—calm but lethal. He might as well have summoned a glacier.

I swallowed hard. Yeah, no matter how long I'd known him, that look still hit like a brick to the soul.

"N-No thanks," I stammered.

The waitress glanced between us, clearly sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Her smile twitched, polite but uneasy.

"I hope you two enjoy your meals."

"Th-Thanks," I repeated like a broken record.

"Thank you," Roki added, deadpan—emotionless but somehow threatening, like he'd mastered the art of intimidation without even raising his voice.

As she left—definitely faster than she arrived—I let out a slow, shaky breath.

Okay. That was something.

Still.

If what Roki said earlier was real—about the heat in his face, the weird feeling in his stomach—then maybe, just maybe, I wasn't imagining things.

Maybe… maybe he did like me.

Okay. Okay. Deep breaths.

Hear me out.

I mean, yeah, I knew he and Midoriya broke up a few weeks ago. It had been quiet, but I’d seen the aftermath in Todoroki’s silences. The long stares. The sighs. The empty seat beside him that used to have someone smiling and taking notes and offering snacks like life was an anime picnic.

It was messy.

Breakups are always messy. I told myself it was off-limits. That he needed space. Time. But then he started saying things—soft, offhand things like "My face gets hot around you" and "My stomach feels weird."

Come on. That's not just nerves. That's not just coincidence. That's something.

But... why me?

I’m not... elegant. Or deep. I’m not a genius strategist or the quiet type who quotes obscure literature. I'm tape. The comic relief guy. The "oh, Sero's chill" guy. I wasn't designed to be the romantic lead.

I'm not cool. I'm not mysterious. I'm definitely not brooding or poetic. If anything, I'm the least dramatic guy in the entire class. Maybe besides Denki. (Mineta didn't count. Ever.)

And Roki?

He's the total opposite. Stoic. Graceful. Powerful. Weirdly elegant in that "I-was-trained-by-a-hero-dad-but-somehow-became-noble" kind of way. He could literally have anyone. Someone smart and tortured like Tokoyami, or someone golden, strict and kinda wholesome like Iida.

Y'know—people who made sense.

Not me. Not Sero Hanta.

But I tried. I smiled more around him. Gave him space when he needed it. Listened. Laughed. Tried to make him feel like he could just... be. No pressure.

I never thought it was actually working.

And if he did like me? If this went anywhere? Things would get complicated fast.

I'd be dating Shoto Todoroki.

Shoto Todoroki, ex of Izuku Midoriya—aka The Nicest Human Being Ever, beloved by all, cinnamon roll of U.A., the literal symbol of kindness and hero potential.

I'd be that guy. That rebound.

That "how dare you move on so fast" guy.

But truth? I didn't care.

Because I liked Todoroki. Not for what he was to others, but for who he was with me. The weird little moments. The quiet ones. The raw ones. The times he blinked a second too long because he didn’t understand a joke but wanted to.

I didn’t need to be a hero for the world. I just wanted to be his soft place to land.

I was so in.

Headfirst. No seatbelt. No parachute.

I was absolutely, no-question, screaming-into-my-pillow in love with Shoto Todoroki.

And what was the world gonna do about it?

"Sero?"

I choked on air.

He was staring at me—with those eyes. That unfair, heterochromatic nonsense. They made my brain short-circuit. Like, honestly, how is anyone allowed to look that pretty and still not know it?

“Y-Yeah?” My voice cracked like puberty just hit again. Awesome.

He tilted his head, curious. “What were the questions you wanted to ask me?”

My soul briefly exited my body. Too pretty. This was dangerous. I was standing in the emotional splash zone and I did not pack a towel.

"U-Um. Yeah. So... the thing is..."

I stalled, sipping my coffee again. Too sweet. Way too sweet. Like being hit with a sugar truck at 90 mph.

"Man, this shit is good," I muttered, trying to buy time.

He blinked. Completely unamused. "Sero."

"Okay, okay!" I lifted my hands in surrender. "But—since we're good friends, could you, um, call me Hanta?"

Big risk. Huge risk. Emotional minefield.

He stared at me. "Really?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "We're friends, right?"

Lie. Massive lie.

No one called me Hanta. Not even Denki. Maybe my mom, when I was in trouble. But I wanted to hear Todoroki say it. Just once.

"...Okay. Hanta."

I felt my soul ascend to another plane of existence. 

My serotonin levels hit critical mass.

"You can call me Shoto, if you want," he added, super casual, like he wasn't detonating my heart in real time.

And just like that—boom. Grinning like an idiot. Blushing like a 13-year-old at a school dance.

But he still had that soft look in his eyes, and that made everything worse. Or better. I didn't know.

"“So, Hanta,” he said again—softly. “About those questions.”

I cleared my throat. "Right. Right. Uh—before we go full therapy hour, can you tell me why you think you're allergic to me?"

He poked at his dessert with his fork. "Well... whenever you call me by my nickname, my face gets really hot."

Oh shit.

"What else?" I asked, pretending to sound chill while mentally screaming.

"When you do that thing with your eyes..." he trailed off, clearly embarrassed. "My face and my quirk both start reacting."

Wait—he had a thing for my eyes? What even—how?

"And when you smile..." His voice dropped. "My stomach gets weird."

I leaned back, trying not to combust. "And... what else does your body do when you're around me?"

He blinked like I'd caught him off guard. "It... feels fuzzy. I know I've felt it before. It's the same feeling I used to get with Midoriya."

Oof. That stung a little.

He really didn't know.

That was the part that hit me hardest.

He wasn't playing dumb. He wasn't leading me on or trying to mess with me. He genuinely didn't get what he was feeling. His expression, his voice, the way he looked at me like I had all the answers... It cracked something in my chest.

He's still figuring it out.

"Why do you think this is happening?" he asked softly, fingers fidgeting with the rim of his tea cup. He wasn't even looking at me anymore—just sort of staring through the steam like it held some kind of truth.

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

God, I wanted to tell him.

I wanted to say, "You're falling for me. It's feelings. You like me." I wanted to say it so badly it hurt.

But if I dropped that truth now—so soon, while everything was still raw—he'd freeze. He'd overthink it. He'd shut down. Retreat like a scared animal.

So I did what I always do when things get too real too fast.

I lied.

Just a little.

"It could be that you're allergic to my, uh... smiles?" I said, giving him a crooked grin that felt more like a plea for mercy.

He blinked. Then, like I'd handed him the missing piece to a puzzle, he lit up.

"That makes sense. Midoriya's smile made me feel warm too. But yours is stronger. It triggers more reactions."

Should I laugh? Cry? Get on one knee right here and now?

"Y-Yeah," I chuckled awkwardly. "My smiles are...bright."

"Very. They always make my face warm."

I was gonna melt into the floor. I was going to dissolve into the tile like spilled syrup and die right there, sticky and stunned.

"But even when you're not smiling," he continued, as if he wasn't actively stomping on my heart, "like when you gave me your hoodie that one time, I still felt the heat. And the fuzziness."

My heart squeezed so tight I was sure it was visible. Please. Make it stop. Or never stop. I wasn't sure which.

"Maybe it's... my Sero-ness?" I tried.

God. That sounded even worse out loud.

"Sero-ness?" He tilted his head like a confused golden retriever. 

Cute. Way too cute.

"Sí, mi amigo," I said dramatically, trying to play it off. "Happens all the time."

He blinked, looking genuinely intrigued. "It does?"

"Yeah," I lied. "Happened with Kiri and Mina too. They just weren’t used to… all this." I made another sweeping motion at myself like that explained it. Like that was a real thing. Like I hadn’t just made it all up in a desperate attempt to not completely derail his emotional progress.

Liar, my conscience hissed.

"Really?" he asked again, quieter this time.

I swallowed down the guilt forming a tight knot in my throat. I should tell him the truth. I should. But instead, I smiled—just a little too wide—and said, "Sí. So it'll pass. Don’t worry."

But in the quiet space between heartbeats, I wanted to whisper the real truth:

I don't want it to pass. I want you to stay.

This is not how I thought my day would go.

I found out my crush is maybe attracted to me but doesn't know it, and now I've basically gaslit him into thinking it's a quirk malfunction. 

Like he’s allergic to my vibes or something.

I’m going to hell.

I feel like absolute shit.

I mean, I get it—he just got out of something intense with Midoriya. That kind of thing leaves scars. People need time to breathe. To re-learn who they are without the person they thought they’d be with. To sit with their own mess and not feel like they’re disappointing everyone.

But I’ve been here. I’ve shown up. I’ve been the ride to the store when he didn’t want to deal with the train. I’ve been the hoodie on cold mornings. The “you okay?” text at 2AM. The dumb jokes when everything felt too heavy.

But that's not what I wanted.

I didn't want to be a rebound.

I wanted him to like me. Not the idea of me. Not the convenient emotional support guy. Me.

The real kicker? I'm not even mad at him. Not really.

He's just... trying.

Trying to understand a part of himself that nobody ever gave him space to explore.

So yeah—maybe he doesn't like me the way I want him to.

But he could.

Maybe.

Someday.

If I'm patient.

"Thank you very much, Hanta."

His voice pulled me back. I looked up.

Todoroki was watching me with this soft, open look on his face—like I was something precious. Like I was safe.

"For what?" I asked, my voice quieter than I expected.

"For everything. Your patience. Your kindness. And you... just being there. I was having this problem for weeks and I didn't know how to fix it. I didn't know who to talk to. Everyone in our class either doesn't like me or doesn't know how to talk to me."

He paused. Swallowed.

"My only real friends were Midoriya... who won't even look at me now. And Bakugou, who wouldn't have been as kind or as patient as you. So... thank you."

My chest ached.

Holy shit.

He didn’t say it like he was fishing for pity. He said it like a fact. Like a truth he lived with.

Like loneliness was something he wore like a second skin.

And all I could think was: You are so much more than what they see.

I see the guy who stops in the middle of a busy sidewalk to pet a stray cat. The one who tilts his head at bad jokes like he’s trying to decode them. The one who pours his drink with both hands like it’s some sacred ritual.

He's not just powerful. Or cold. Or sharp. He's soft too. Gentle in the quiet, hesitant kind of way. And it hit me all at once—

He is lovely.

And no one sees that. No one gets to see this side of him but me.

And damn it, I want to be the one who gets to witness it.

"No worries, Roki," I said, my voice a little shakier than I meant. "You got me now. I'm always here to help. Para mi amigo, estaré contigo hasta nuestro último sol."

He blinked, brows furrowing slightly as he tried to parse it. He’d been practicing lately, repeating Spanish phrases with this adorably serious expression.

"For my friend... I will... be with you until... our last sun?"

I clapped once, proud. "Sí! Wow, Roki, your Spanish is getting so much better!"

His cheeks flushed. He picked up his fork, mumbling, "Hanta, you're doing it again."

"Doing what?" I asked innocently, leaning back. "Is my Sero-ness acting up again? Damn. Can’t turn it off, sorry."

Then—

He giggled.

Not a laugh. Not a chuckle.

An actual, real giggle.

Soft and brief. Barely a sound. But it existed.

And it was the cutest goddamn thing I've ever heard.

Like, if joy were a sound, that would be it.

Shoto Todoroki, human ice sculpture, giggles.

And now I could die happy.

"It's fine," he said eventually, smiling a little to himself as he scooped a bite of cake. "I'm just glad I know what's going on."

I nodded slowly, smile stretching across my face.

"Yeah... that's good."

But deep down, I could feel it:

Damn it. I want more.

More than this. More than maybe.

More than my Sero-ness.

I wanted him to look at me the way I looked at him.

I wanted him to know—and choose me anyway.

But for now?

I’d stay right here.

Until our last sun.

And maybe, just maybe… he’d meet me there.

Chapter 8: Movie Night

Notes:

Guys the way I have so many chapters done in my drafts, just shows you I didn't do anything for this summer...Also I love this ship!

Third Person POV:

"You dumbass bitch, why the fuck did you do that?!"

Sero didn't even flinch. He just sighed, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against his workbook. "I don't know, Denki... but you're kinda sounding like Bakubro right now."

Denki looked like he wanted to argue—but he couldn't. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again before he let out an annoyed groan and flopped back in his seat. Mina, sitting crisscross on the dorm couch with a face mask half on, cleared her throat.

"So let me get this straight," she said slowly, eyes narrowed like she was piecing together a murder case. "You got extra detention. Lost your weekend privileges. AND practically emotionally blue-balled the guy who confessed his feelings—just to tell him, 'Oh, don't worry, it'll pass?'"

Sero groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. "I know—"

"No! You don't know!" Denki shouted, sitting up now with fire in his eyes. "That was your moment, bro! He basically handed you his confused, emotionally constipated heart on a sparkly tray, and you were like, 'Nah, fam, must be indigestion.'"

Sero dropped his pencil with a sigh. Yeah. He'd screwed up. Badly.

To make things worse, this was his second strike of the week. Not only had he gotten chewed out by his parents over the phone, but Aizawa had practically strangled him with capture tape during his "motivational talk." He'd nearly passed out.

Todoroki had gotten in trouble too, sure—but it was a single slap-on-the-wrist detention. He didn't mind. In fact, he seemed pleased they'd be serving it together. And that only made things more complicated in Sero's already tangled mess of a brain.

"Why didn't you just tell him?" Mina asked softly, a rare gentleness in her voice as she laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Sero hesitated. They already knew the story—he'd spilled everything about the coffee shop encounter like a shaken soda can—but saying it out loud still stung.

"I don't know," he said. "I just... I didn't want to risk it. What if he doesn't actually like me? What if he just likes the idea of someone being there during his breakup? I was the rebound support guy. It felt wrong to say anything. I mean, he doesn't even know what he's feeling. How could I tell him what it meant?"

Before Mina could reply, a new voice cut through.

"Who?"

They turned to see Kirishima entering the common room with Bakugou in tow. Bakugou looked as grumpy as ever, but Kirishima had that usual warm glint in his eyes—and something suspiciously smug in his smile.

Denki immediately smirked. "Well, well, well. Look who finally joined us—Mr. and Mr. Boom Boom."

Kirishima opened his mouth to respond, but Bakugou beat him to it with a low growl. "Shut your mouth, Dunceface."

Denki snorted. "Love you too, babe."

Sero, however, just slumped deeper into the couch.

"Dude," Denki said again, this time softer. "It's obvious he likes you. Not the idea of you. You. All of you."

Sero shook his head. "I don't think so."

"What are we talking about?" Kirishima asked, pulling out the nearest chair and dragging it closer. Bakugou grudgingly followed, sitting beside him with his arms crossed.

Mina turned to them. "So, long story short: Sero and Todoroki had this accidental date thing. Todoroki pretty much confessed he liked Sero—without knowing he was confessing. And Sero, being the emotional disaster he is, told him it'll pass like a stomach bug."

Kirishima blinked. "Wait. What?!"

Bakugou snorted. "You're actually pathetic."

"Bakugou," Kirishima warned, giving him a side-eye.

"What? It's true."

"That's not helping," Mina snapped.

The room fell into a heavy silence, filled only by the scratch of Sero's pencil doodling tiny spirals on his homework sheet.

"Dude..." Kirishima leaned in, voice softer now. "You gotta stop doing this to yourself."

Sero didn't look up. "At least he's still my friend," he murmured.

"That's not enough and you know it," Mina said, her voice barely above a whisper now.

Denki let out a dramatic gasp, like a cartoon character being hit with divine inspiration. "Wait, wait, wait! Today's Friday!"

The others blinked.

"...And?"

"Movie night, duh!" Denki said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We can distract this sad sap with snacks, explosions, and rom-coms!"

Mina gasped. "Oh my god, yes! I totally forgot! We need to pick something good. Something cathartic. Maybe something gay. Or dramatic. Ooh! Or both!"

"Ugh," Bakugou muttered.

"Let them have this," Kirishima said, bumping his shoulder playfully.

While Denki and Mina excitedly brainstormed, Kirishima leaned closer to Sero again.

"Listen, man. I know it hurts. But you're not nothing to him. The way Todoroki looks at you? I've seen it. That's not temporary. That's not just gratitude."

Sero finally looked up, eyes glassy but holding back.

"I just... I want him to choose me. Not because I was there when he was sad. But because I make him happy. Because I'm... worth it."

The group went quiet again. Even Bakugou didn't have anything snarky to say.

Mina gave his hand a squeeze. "You are, Sero. So much more than you think."

He gave her a shaky smile.

"Okay," Denki said, breaking the silence. "Hear me out—what if we watch something that's sad at first but then has a super happy ending? Like, an emotional rollercoaster with closure. Y'know, therapeutic cinema."

Kirishima clapped a hand on Sero's back, firm and grounding. "Movie night it is. But promise me something first."

Sero raised a brow. "What?"

Kirishima gave him a look that went straight through the dumb jokes and self-deprecation. "If he gives you another chance—even if it's subtle—even if it's not perfect—you take it. No more stepping back. No more deflecting with sarcasm. You deserve someone who sees you and chooses you."

Sero swallowed. Hard. His throat was tight, and for a moment, he didn't trust himself to speak. But he forced out a breath.

"...Okay," he said quietly. "Okay. I'll try."

Kirishima's expression softened. He opened his mouth to say something else—

"Hanta!"

Everyone turned, and Sero's heart slammed into his ribcage like a damn drum solo.

And there he was.

Shoto Todoroki. Sweaty, flushed from training, wearing a loose black tank top that clung to his chest and grey sweatpants that hugged his hips in a way Sero's brain was definitely not prepared for. Hair messy, towel slung around his neck, face slightly glistening from effort.

Sero's mouth went dry.

'Holy. Shit.'

"H-Hey, Roki," he managed, practically leaping to his feet like someone lit his shoes on fire. His friends sent daggers with their eyes, but he didn't care. He walked over like he had tunnel vision and Todoroki was the only thing in existence.

Todoroki offered a rare soft smile. "I wanted to tell you I finished the first three volumes of One Punch Man."

Sero blinked, momentarily thrown. "Oh? That's awesome, dude."

Todoroki nodded. "Yeah. I really like it. Saitama reminds me of Aizawa, but like, with less hair care."

Sero chuckled. "Totally. It's been a while since I read it, but it's a classic."

The other teen shifted his weight slightly. "Also... I need Volume 7 of Banana Fish. I need to know what happens. Ash has gone through so much already."

Sero winced sympathetically. "Yeah. That volume hits hard. You can come to my room and grab it. I'll find it for you."

Todoroki hesitated, fiddling with the towel around his neck. "Is... is it okay if we read together? Like last time."

Sero blinked. Was he hearing this right? Todoroki looked genuinely nervous—his brows slightly furrowed, eyes searching.

A soft blush crept onto Sero's cheeks. "Yeah. Of course, dude. That'd be... nice."

The rare smile returned to Todoroki's face, smaller this time, but real. "Ok. Also... are we still watching that movie tonight? You mentioned it earlier."

Sero blinked again.

'Crap. The movie night.'

He'd invited Todoroki before deciding it was going to be his "Todoroki-free emotional recovery night."

Behind him, he could already feel the groans and side-eyeing from his friends.

His mouth opened to answer, but before he could say anything, an arm suddenly hooked around his shoulders.

"Sorry to interrupt this cute little moment, but I need to borrow our good boy Sero for a quick sidebar," Denki grinned, all teeth, before shooting Todoroki a wink.

Todoroki looked slightly confused but nodded. "Alright."

Sero let himself be dragged away, groaning under his breath. "Dude. Come on—"

"Ow! Denki, stop yanking!"

As soon as they were out of Todoroki's hearing range, Denki whirled on him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" he hissed, hands flailing. "This was supposed to be Todoroki-free healing time! Not Netflix and emotionally spiral night!"

Mina folded her arms with a huff. "Yeah, what happened to distracting yourself, not making it worse?"

Sero looked at Kirishima, silently hoping for backup, but Kiri only gave him a disappointed sigh and a tilted head.

Bakugou, still half-listening while scrolling through his phone, muttered, "Told you he was pathetic."

"I can't un-invite him now," Sero said defensively. "I already said he could come. What am I supposed to do? Tell him, 'Hey sorry, we're watching movies but you're too emotionally dangerous to be around, peace out'?"

Mina and Denki exchanged glances. Kirishima stepped forward.

"Look, man... we get it. You're trying to be a good friend. And you are. But we just don't want you to keep putting yourself in situations that hurt you."

Sero looked away, jaw clenched. "I told him I'd be his friend. That hasn't changed. I'm not gonna ditch him just because it's hard."

The three stared at him for a long moment. Then Denki sighed.

"Sero—"

But Sero didn't wait to hear the rest. He turned and walked back toward Todoroki, who was still waiting patiently by the stairs, absently making circles on the floor with the toe of his shoe.

Sero smiled, heart still tight. "Sorry about that. They're being weird. And yeah, we're totally still on for movie night."

Todoroki tilted his head slightly. "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude if it's... just your group."

"Of course it's fine," Sero said quickly. "They want you there too. Right, guys?"

He turned to the couch where Denki, Mina, and Kirishima were trying not to look like they were silently judging everything. Sero shot them a glare.

After a beat, Denki mumbled, "...Yeah."

"Of course, we are, Shoto baby," Mina added with a forced wink.

Kirishima smiled brightly, wrapping his arm around Bakugou's shoulders. "Totally."

Bakugou flushed immediately, shoving him off. "Speak for yourselves. I don't need another loser crowding up my night."

Kirishima rolled his eyes. Denki leaned forward, finger on his chin, faux thoughtful. "And yet... you're still here. Wanna know why, Bakugou? Oh, that's right. Because your boyfriend is here, and we tolerate you."

Sero blinked. Todoroki blinked. Bakugou, to everyone's surprise, was so stunned he didn't even respond.

"Burn," Mina whispered with a laugh, pointing at the shocked blond.

Kirishima giggled as Bakugou spluttered into incoherent rage.

Meanwhile, Sero turned back to Todoroki. "Sorry about the circus. But yeah—totally cool if you come."

Todoroki nodded, grateful. "Alright. I'll shower first. Be down in a bit."

"Awesome," Sero said with a grin. "See you soon, mi amigo."

That did it.

Todoroki blinked, cheeks tinting pink. "Hanta..."

Sero held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. Couldn't resist."

Todoroki let out a quiet huff and turned, walking away with a soft scoff. But the slight redness in his ears betrayed him.

As he stomped toward the elevator, Sero watched him go, a dumb smile still tugging at his lips.

"See ya, Roki~" he called playfully.

Todoroki turned his head, shooting him a glare that wasn't very effective with how red his face had become. But he didn't say anything—just gave a tiny nod before stepping into the elevator.

As the doors closed, Sero sat back down with a dreamy sigh.

"Ah..." he murmured, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

"...he's something."

Mina stared at him. "You're so far gone it's not even funny."

"It's a little funny," Denki muttered.

Kirishima smiled. "You've got it bad, man."

Sero just chuckled, resting his head back against the couch.

"Yeah... I really do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"For the last time, Kaminari, stop stealing my popcorn!"

Denki just stuck his tongue out, shoveling a disgusting handful of buttery kernels into his mouth with absolutely zero shame. He grinned like the little gremlin he was, crunching obnoxiously while Mina growled beside him like she was ready to commit a crime. Kirishima just flopped dramatically on the couch like he was already emotionally exhausted from babysitting our chaos.

"So! When does the movie start?" he asked, stretching like a cat.

"As soon as your boyfriend hurries up with the food," Denki whined through a mouthful of popcorn.

"SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU DUNCE-FACED LOSER!"

Ah, yes. Bakubro's voice, as comforting and chaotic as ever, blasted from the kitchen like a foghorn. Honestly, I was surprised the microwave didn't just give up and explode from sheer intimidation. You could hear his ass from down the block if the windows were open.

I shook my head as Mina and Denki descended into a wrestling match over the popcorn bowl. I could have been working on my assignments. Hell, I should have been. But instead, here I was, watching my friends act like wild children.

Still... maybe this was what I needed. A break. A distraction. Lately, things had been heavy.

Extra detentions, my hero agency breathing down my neck about said detentions, Aizawa murdering us in training drills, my homework pile rivaling Mount Fuji—and let's not forget the cherry on top: the emotional whiplash of trying to figure out whether my crush actually liked me, or just the idea of being liked.

Yeah, no thanks. Tonight was about chilling out.

Or at least it was... until a soft voice drifted down from above my head.

"Hello."

I tilted my head up and immediately forgot how to breathe.

Holy hell.

There he was. Todoroki, in all his beautiful, post-shower glory. His two-toned hair slightly damp and fluffy, his skin glowing, and his expression unreadable as ever—but gentle.

I wanted to speak but I couldn't form anything else.

" H-Hey."

He tilted his head—that head tilt, the one that makes him look like a confused golden retriever with emotional depth. "What are we watching?"

Before I could answer, I noticed something.

...

...

...

He was wearing the Spider-Man hoodie I gave him the other night.

Holy fuck.

He was wearing my hoodie!?

I thought he would have thrown that away something but he's actually wearing my shit!

He looked so good in my shit too! Even though it's huge on him, he still manages to pull it off.

Ok, NOW I can die happy.

As I had a goofy smile on my face, I watched him walk over to the couch and watch him sit next RIGHT to me.

I mean, he was INCHES away from touching my thighs. And his arm was super close to mine. Like we had some space but he CHOSE to sit this close to me.

My face got warm and I wanted to freak the freak out. But then I have to tell myself to keep it together before I say something stupid.

"I don't know," I muttered, very proud of my non-squeaky voice. "Maybe something Disney."

He hummed, soft and content, and leaned back into the cushions. We didn't say anything for a second, and I swear the silence was louder than anything Bakugou had screamed all night.

I was hyper-aware of everything. The way his knee almost brushed mine. The warmth radiating from him. The scent of his shampoo—vanilla and something citrusy. The way the sleeve of my hoodie slipped down his wrist as he settled in beside me.

And suddenly, I didn't care about the movie. Or the popcorn. Or the chaos.

Because all I could think about was him.

And maybe—maybe—he was thinking about me too.

Before I could spiral any further into that hopeful delusion, Mina's voice shattered the moment like a baseball through glass.

"HOLD UP."

Both mi amor and I flinched. We turned to see her standing triumphantly on Denki's back like she was about to lead a revolution. Denki, for his part, was still scrolling through his phone with a disturbing amount of chill.

" We HAVE to watch High School Musical."

A chorus of groans erupted from the group—including me.

"Boooo," I echoed, waving a limp hand of protest.

Except, of course, for my Roki.

Yeah. I said my. Sue me.

Mina scoffed like we were all uncultured swine. "What? Zac Efron was so hot in that movie."

"True," I admitted, "but I'm not in the mood to watch teenagers sing about basketball and feelings."

"Yeah, not really a musical mood tonight," Kirishima added with a stretch and a yawn.

She pouted dramatically, but I just kept scrolling through the Disney+ options.

"What about Coco?" I offered.

"Um, no," Denki said, flopping onto his side. "I'm not trying to sob into my noodles tonight."

"Yeah, dude, that was the saddest birthday party ever," Kiri groaned like he still hadn't recovered.

I rolled my eyes. "It was one time, and you guys liked it."

"Yeah, but at what cost?!"

Dramatic idiots, the lot of them.

I turned to the one person whose opinion I actually cared about.

"What do you wanna watch, Roki?"

He blinked, like he wasn't expecting to be asked. His eyes met mine, wide for just a second before he glanced at the TV.

"I've only seen Frozen," he said, like he was confessing a dark secret.

Silence.

Everyone gasped. 

Even me.

"Dude. You can't be serious," Denki gawked.

Mi amor nodded, dead serious. "It's true. That's the only Disney movie I've ever seen."

"...Bro."

Kirishima sat up like we were in some kind of emergency meeting. "Then we need to fix that. Start with a classic. Emperor's New Groove. That movie slaps."

Mina slapped him a high five. "Kiri, you genius."

That actually didn't sound like a bad idea.

Before I could cue it up, Bakugou emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food that smelled like a five-star restaurant and hellfire had a baby. Ramen and some spicy-looking chicken, steaming hot and definitely not mild.

"Shut up losers. Food's done."

Mina and Kiri bolted. I'm not kidding. They ran like they were competing in the Olympics. I caught a flash of sparkles in their eyes as they fawned over the tray.

"Oh my god! This looks so good," Mina squealed.

Even in the dim light from the TV, I swear I saw Bakugou's ears go red.

Bakugou. Blushing.
I might need to write this day down in history.

"Tch. Shut it and eat," he grumbled, eyes everywhere but on them.

Kiri leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thanks, babe."

Bakugou glitched.

It was beautiful.

I smiled to myself, heart doing that annoying little twist again. Because even though it was cute, and sweet, and weirdly wholesome watching Bakugou short-circuit from affection...

...I couldn't help but want that.

Not the yelling or the explosions—but the soft stuff. The warmth. The effortless way Kiri leaned into him like it was natural. Like it was allowed.

I glanced at mi amor beside me.

He was watching the screen, calm as ever, face softly lit in blues and purples. Still wearing my hoodie. Still sitting stupidly close.

I sighed.

Wishes were easy. Feelings were harder.

"Come on, Sero," Denki whined. "Play the movie already."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine, you oversized toddler. Emperor's New Groove it is."

"Yay!" came the collective cheer—minus Bakugou and mi amor, of course.

Everyone settled in. Mina and Denki took the floor, hogging the popcorn. Kiri and Bakugou took the other couch—Kiri had tucked a blanket around them like the cinnamon roll he was. Meanwhile...

That left me and mi amor.

Alone.

On the biggest couch.

And yet...

He didn't move an inch.

If anything, I think he scooted closer.

I hit play.

The intro music started.

And I? I couldn't stop sneaking glances at him.

Because, let's be honest...

I could watch this movie a thousand times.

But I'd never get tired of watching him....

...

...

Ok, that sounds creepy.

I turned back to the television, cheeks warm, heart racing for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the movie. God, I'm so weird. Like, actually weird. I must've zoned out longer than I thought, because we were already well into the prince already singing in The Emperor's New Groove and I had no idea how we got there.

Just as I started to settle down, mentally wrestling myself back into chill mode, a soft voice broke through the static in my brain.

"Hanta?"

And there it was again—that voice. Smooth and low and soft like it had been dipped in velvet. My spine straightened like I'd just been drafted into the military.

I turned to him, trying not to sound like I was being called by God himself. "Yeah?"

Roki looked at me with that gentle kind of curiosity that could either mean he was about to say something profound or ask why grass is green. Both were equally possible.

"Why did he throw that old man out of the window?"

I blinked at him, my brain buffering. "Wait, wha—?"

Then it hit me. The movie. The guard had just yeeted the old man. Of course.

"Oh! Right, right. Yeah, um... Kuzco's kind of a royal jerk," I chuckled, glancing back at the screen. "It's part of the whole character development arc. He gets better."

Mi amor frowned. "But it's illegal. Is the old man hurt? Did he die?"

I sighed, suppressing a smile. "No, Roki, he didn't die."

"But how do we know that? That guy ordered his guards to throw a man out a window. Shouldn't he be in jail? This is who they let rule their country?"

Okay. So this was happening.

Without thinking, I reached over and gently clamped my hand over his mouth.

"Roki," I said, trying not to laugh, "just watch the movie. I promise your questions will be answered."

His lips twitched beneath my palm, then he blinked once, nodded slowly, and leaned back. I let my hand fall away, already missing the warmth of his skin against mine.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "I'll be quiet."

My stomach flipped. Crap. That wasn't what I meant at all.

"No, no, no," I rushed, turning back to him. "It's not like I want you to be quiet. I just think maybe you're, y'know... thinking too hard about it."

He tilted his head, eyes searching mine. "Really?"

My brain short-circuited.

Why did that affect me so much? Why did just one word—really—make my heart feel like it was trying to kick down my ribcage?

I nodded, probably a little too eagerly. "Y-Yeah! Sometimes you gotta let go of logic and just let the nonsense wash over you. Relax your mind a little."

"Relax my mind?" he repeated, as if testing the phrase in his mouth like it was a new food.

"Exactly!" I pointed at the TV. "Look, this part is the perfect example. Yzma's about to go off the rails. Just... soak it in."

Right on cue, the evil empress started monologuing about killing Kuzco, and the whole room burst into laughter. Even Bakugou snorted, which is about as close as he gets to laughing without a full-blown identity crisis.

But Roki... he was still looking at me.

Not laughing. Not even smirking.

Just... looking.

I turned to him fully, frowning. "What? Do I have a zit or something?"

God, please don't let me have a zit.

I started self-consciously rubbing my face when, out of nowhere, mi amor leaned in and rested his head on my shoulder.

My body went stock-still.

I peeked at him like I was afraid I might hallucinate him away. But no—there he was. Calm as ever. Eyes on the screen like this was the most casual thing in the world.

"Hanta," he murmured against my hoodie, "they're trying to kill him."

Mi amor, I cannot focus on Kuzco's life-or-death situation when you are currently using me as a human pillow.

But I played it cool. Ish.

"Yeah, they are," I said, the words catching slightly in my throat.

"And the big one's putting the llama in a bag. Isn't that animal cruelty? Why aren't they in jail?"

I bit my lip.

"And how is that llama not dead from the lack of air? He's been in there for minutes. That's not safe."

Jesus Christ. He's been hanging out with Midoriya too much. The overanalyzing is contagious.

"OH MY GOD, SHUT THE HELL UP, ICY-HOT!" Bakugou suddenly exploded.

"Bakubro—" I tried, hoping to defuse what could only end in property damage.

"Hanta told me not to be quiet," Mi amor said evenly.

Technically true. But not what I meant, and now Bakugou looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.

"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN!"

"Bakubro, shush!" Denki shushed dramatically.

"You shush!"

"You!"

"SHUT YOUR FACE YOU DAMN—"

"OKAY!!" Kirishima yelled over them, standing like a disappointed kindergarten teacher. "Everyone. SHUT IT."

A rare silence fell. The golden retriever had barked. Even Bakugou grumbled into submission.

Mina and Denki broke the tension with giggles, and soon enough, everyone was laughing again. Even me. Even Bakubro, kind of.

I glanced down. Mi amor was still resting on my shoulder, unbothered by the chaos. Eyes soft. Breathing even.

God, I could get used to this.

On a whim, I stretched my arm behind him, casually draping it along the back of the couch.

Just stretching, totally innocent. Nothing to see here.

But then—he leaned closer.

Not a lot. Just enough.

Just enough to tuck himself against my side a little more, settle in deeper like he belonged there. Like maybe... he wanted to belong there.

My heart full-on exploded in my chest.

I smiled. I couldn't help it. It stretched across my face before I could stop it.

But of course, right then, Mina caught my eye from across the room. She gave me a look. The look.

I stuck my tongue out at her like a five-year-old, and she flipped me off without missing a beat.

I giggled to myself and turned back to the screen. Kuzco was arguing with Pacha, and the adventure was in full swing—but I barely registered any of it.

All I could feel was the warmth of mi amor beside me. His head on my shoulder. The steady rhythm of his breathing. The soft rub of his fingers across his own hand, like a nervous habit.

I glanced at him again.

No words. Just this moment.

He was here. With me. And that was enough.

Yeah.

Movie night was the best.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

"Awesome movies, Kiri. We needed that. Two solid wins," Sero said as he stretched out his legs, sinking deeper into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

Kirishima gave a casual wave, a small but smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I know, I've got excellent taste."

"Yeah, yeah, humble as always," Sero teased—only to be cut off by a loud gasp from Denki, who looked like he'd just discovered buried treasure.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mina asked, raising a skeptical brow as Denki whipped out his phone like a raccoon who found a shiny object.

The blond grinned, already creeping toward the couch. "Getting ammo to use against Bakubro."

Kirishima blinked. "Huh?"

But then he heard it—the soft, unmistakable sound of snoring. He looked down and his expression instantly softened. Bakugou was passed out, arms folded stubbornly, face calm and relaxed, using Kirishima's chest as a pillow. It was so rare to see him this peaceful—like watching a lion nap in a patch of wildflowers.

Kirishima couldn't help himself. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Bakugou's temple.

The explosive blonde barely stirred. He just let out a deeper breath and snuggled in closer.

"Awwww," Mina whispered, hands clasped over her heart.

Click.

"DENKI."

"What?!" Denki said with zero remorse. "It's for science. No blackmail. Not yet."

Kirishima gave him a glare sharp enough to cut metal, but Denki just giggled and held his phone up like a trophy.

Then Mina's attention shifted. Her eyes widened and she smacked Denki's shoulder.

"Wait... waitwaitwait... look at Sero."

Denki blinked, confused, and turned—then gasped like he'd been hit with a revelation.

Sero looked between them, eyebrows scrunched. "What?"

Then he followed their gaze and finally noticed the weight on his shoulder.

Todoroki.

Dead asleep.

Head resting against Sero's shoulder. Breathing slow. Expression calm. Sero's hoodie still draped over him like it belonged there.

Sero's heart nearly launched itself out of his chest.

"Oh..." he breathed, completely dazed. His cheeks flamed up like someone had lit a match.

Mina squealed silently, bouncing in place. Denki pointed dramatically, eyes sparkling. "You dog."

Sero rolled his eyes, trying—and failing—to smother the giddy grin spreading across his face. "He's just tired."

"Sure he is," Kirishima said as he returned from tucking a blanket around Bakugou, giving Sero a knowing smirk.

Sero tried to focus on the TV, but his pulse was hammering. The boy of his long-standing crush was asleep on him. Voluntarily. Comfortably.

It was enough to make him forget his own name.

Then the front door creaked open.

All heads turned.

Midoriya and his group stepped inside, laughter fading as they entered the cozy dimness of the living room. Uraraka. Tsu. Iida. Smiling and a little windswept from the fall evening.

And at the center of it—

Midoriya.

The same Midoriya who used to date Todoroki.

The same Midoriya whose eyes were already scanning the room.

Sero's blood ran cold.

"Hey guys!" Uraraka called brightly. "Where's the party?"

"We just wrapped up movie night," Kirishima whispered, careful not to disturb the still-sleeping bomb on his chest.

"Oh, that's sweet," Tsu added, smiling.

"Yeah, we watched The Emperor's New Groove and Brother Bear," Denki said with a grin, practically vibrating with leftover energy. "We were about to start another one but... you know." He waved toward the couch like a game show host revealing the grand prize.

Bakugou and Todoroki. Peacefully asleep.

Bakugou on Kirishima and...

Todoroki with Sero....

Sero mentally cursed.

'Denki, why would you say that out loud?'

"Oh?" Midoriya's voice perked up. "Todoroki's here?"

He took a few slow, casual steps toward the couch.

Sero's body locked like a trap. Muscles tense. Breath shallow. Heart pounding in that sharp, too-loud kind of way.

Midoriya's eyes swept the room—but stopped when they landed on him. Or more specifically, on Todoroki. Still sound asleep, head nestled on Sero's shoulder, hoodie draped around him like a blanket, mouth parted slightly in peaceful sleep.

Midoriya's expression shifted. Just barely. Not quite a glare, not quite a smile. Just... something unreadable. His eyes lingered for a second too long.

There was a flicker of something else, too—something complicated.

Jealousy? Sadness? Disbelief? Nostalgia? All of it?

Sero's throat felt dry. "H-Hey, dude. What's up?"

"Nothing," Midoriya said, his voice carefully neutral. "How was the movie?"

Sero nodded. Too fast. "Pretty good."

Silence fell.

It was suffocating. The air got thick with something unspoken and heavy, pressing into Sero's chest like a weight he wasn't ready to carry. He swallowed hard and tried to keep his breathing steady.

This was it. That weird moment where you realize you're not just in something—you're at the center of it. A crossroads. A turning point. Something with consequences.

On one hand, he felt like a goddamn legend.

Todoroki—the boy Sero had admired from a distance, too scared to even flirt properly with—was curled up against him like it was normal. Like Sero was his safe space.

But on the other hand?

That was Midoriya standing right in front of him. Midoriya, the literal embodiment of kindness. The guy who poured every drop of himself into the people he cared about, including Todoroki. And now Sero was just... there. Holding what Midoriya used to hold.

Was he the villain in someone else's story? The rebound? The thief?

Before his thoughts spiraled further, Mina swooped in like a sugar-coated grenade.

"Tell me everything about that concert," she said, practically throwing herself at Midoriya with the brightest smile.

Midoriya paused. Gave Sero one last unreadable look. Then he let Mina lead him into the kitchen, mumbling something about setlists and merch tables.

Sero let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

Kirishima wandered over, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Dude. That was so awkward."

"You're telling me," Sero muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Did you see the death glare he gave you?" Denki cackled, clearly enjoying the drama more than he should.

"He didn't give me a death glare," Sero argued.

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, he did."

"No he didn't! He just asked me about the movie!"

"Yeah—with his ex-boyfriend literally passed out in your arms," Denki added, grinning like the little goblin he was.

Sero opened his mouth to protest—but froze.

Because he felt something shift.

He looked down.

Todoroki had moved. Still asleep, but now his arms had wrapped around Sero's arm. His head tucked deeper into Sero's shoulder, hair brushing his neck. He nuzzled closer with a soft sigh that made Sero's entire brain short-circuit.

Wide-eyed, Sero turned to see Kirishima and Denki losing it silently—mouths covered, shoulders shaking like they were trying so hard not to squeal.

"Shut up," Sero hissed, blushing furiously.

"Sero and Todoroki, sittin' in a tree~" Denki sang under his breath, barely containing his delight.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G~" Kirishima joined in, voice just as teasing.

Sero groaned. "You guys are such dicks."

"First comes love," Denki continued gleefully.

"Then comes marriage~" Kirishima sang.

"Then comes Seroroki with the baby carriage!" Denki finished, throwing his arms in the air like a proud parent.

Sero glared at them. "I hate you both."

But in the back of his mind, an image flickered—Todoroki, smiling, holding a kid with his eyes and Sero's nose.

'That... sounds kinda cool...'

He shook his head.

'Nope. Stop. You're delusional. He doesn't even like you like that, you idiot.'

Before his brain could sabotage him further, a groggy voice cut through the teasing.

"Oi, Shitty Hair..."

Bakugou was standing, half-wrapped in the blanket like a pissed-off burrito. Rubbing his eyes, looking more like a sleepy cat than an angry explosion.

Kirishima immediately softened, cooing, "You look so cute like that, babe."

Bakugou scowled sleepily, but didn't argue. Kirishima smiled as he held his hand before looking at his two friends, " We're gonna head upstairs."

"Gonna do the deed," Denki wiggled his eyebrows and nudged Kirishima like a sitcom side character.

Bakugou shot him a look so deadly it probably counted as a felony. "I'm too tired to beat your ass, but you'll regret that in the morning."

Denki audibly gulped. Kirishima laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend's cheek. "Night, guys!"

Bakugou's ears were pink as he followed Kirishima toward the elevator, still grumbling.

Then it was just Sero and Denki.

The blonde yawned, stretching with a groan. "Man, I'm wiped."

Sero chuckled, unlocking his phone. "That's surprising. You usually run on chaos."

"Even chaos needs naps." Denki stuck out his tongue. "Later, dude."

"Night."

Denki gave him a peace sign and disappeared toward the elevator.

And then... it was just Sero.

The living room was quiet, dim, filled with the soft sound of the TV screen and the even softer sound of Todoroki's breathing.

Sero sighed, putting his phone down and leaning back. He wasn't going anywhere tonight—not with this guy asleep on him. And honestly? He didn't want to.

He glanced down again.

Todoroki still hadn't moved much. Still clinging, still resting, still breathing slow and steady like Sero's shoulder was the most natural pillow in the world.

And god—he was so beautiful like this.

Peaceful in a way Sero didn't often get to see. Calm. Dreaming, maybe. His face unguarded, his lips barely parted.

Sero leaned in a little, just to look.

Just to see.

The curve of Todoroki's nose. The way his hair fell over his forehead. The scar, half hidden. His eyelashes. His—

Nope. Stop. Abort.

Sero pulled back, blinking fast. "Get it together," he whispered to himself.

But still, his fingers moved almost instinctively—gentle, brushing through Todoroki's hair like it was a habit he hadn't realized he'd already formed.

"Dios mío..." he muttered softly. "You're really something, huh, mi amor?"

He paused.

Then smiled.

And for once... didn't take it back.

Sero slowly and carefully shifted his arms, gently lifting Todoroki's sleeping form from where he had been curled against him. The younger boy didn't stir—still lost in sleep, still trusting, still clinging faintly to the warmth Sero gave off. Sero carefully laid him down on the couch, letting Todoroki's head rest against a cushion he fluffed up with one hand.

"Be right back," he whispered, more to himself than anyone. He stood, brushing a few strands of hair off Todoroki's forehead, then turned on his heel and padded toward the elevator.

"I'm just grabbing some blankets," he called quietly, though Todoroki couldn't hear him.

As the elevator doors closed behind Sero with a soft ding, the warm light faded, swallowed by the gentle hum of silence. The living room sat in stillness, bathed in the pale glow of the TV screen, flickering images reflecting across empty furniture.

Then, like a spell breaking, Todoroki stirred.

He blinked groggily, the fog of sleep slipping away from mismatched eyes. His body ached faintly—he hadn't realized how tightly he'd curled against Sero earlier. He sat up slowly, brushing his hair from his face, his gaze instinctively falling to the spot beside him.

Empty.

The couch felt colder without him.

He scanned the room. No sign of the other boy. No sound. Just the soft flicker of the television and the muted murmurs of voices down the hallway.

His heart sank.

He stared at the vacant cushion beside him, his chest hollowing with something heavy and too familiar.

'Just like everyone else... they always leave.'

The words echoed in his mind with cruel precision, the same refrain he'd buried deep and tried to forget.

He knew that ache too well. His mother, torn away from him by pain and circumstance. Midoriya, slipping through his fingers with every unspoken word between them. People always left—no matter how gentle his touch or careful his love.

Now maybe... Sero.

'I'm too much', he thought. 'Too cold. Too quiet. Too broken.'

His fingers tightened into the fabric of the hoodie he was wearing that belonged to the boy who wasn't here. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself up, body stiff from sleep and something else—something darker and older. Disappointment. Resignation.

He told himself not to care. Not to hope.

But when he heard laughter from down the hall—soft and familiar—his feet moved on their own.

The voices were coming from the kitchen. He padded across the floor silently, bare feet barely making a sound. He hesitated at the corner and peeked around.

And froze.

There, under the golden kitchen lights, stood Midoriya.

He was laughing at something Mina had said, the kind of laugh that made his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle. That damn laugh Todoroki used to adore. The one that used to make him feel like everything might be okay if he could just hear it one more time.

Now it wasn't for him.

He stood there, just out of sight, a ghost in the hallway. Watching. Remembering. Hurting.

He hadn't been able to make Midoriya laugh like that—not when they were together, not even when he tried to loosen up, to be... lighter. More like Sero. More like someone worthy.

It was always a tightrope walk. Every word felt too sharp. Every emotion, too loud or too quiet.

'You were too much,' his inner voice whispered. 'Too clingy. Too serious. You didn't know how to hold someone without suffocating them.'

He swallowed hard. The ache in his chest was turning into something else now. Something brittle.

He turned to leave. He couldn't watch anymore.

But then—

"Roki?"

The voice cut through the air like sunlight breaking clouds.

He turned around slowly.

And there he was.

Sero stood in the dim hallway, arms full of pillows and blankets, his expression open, soft, and steady. Like nothing was wrong. Like it was normal to find Todoroki haunted and hiding in a hallway.

'He came back...?'

Todoroki didn't speak. Couldn't. His voice caught in his throat, trapped by confusion and disbelief.

Sero tilted his head slightly, smile fading into gentle concern. "You good?"

Todoroki opened his mouth—then closed it again.

And then, he moved.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps, heart pounding loud in his ears.

He didn't stop until he was right in front of Sero, standing so close he could feel the warmth radiating from his chest. He looked up—just a little. Not enough to feel small. Just enough to feel safe.

For a boy taught never to look up to anyone, that realization hit hard.

But with Sero?

He didn't mind.

Without warning, his arms wrapped around the taller boy's torso, pressing his cheek against the soft hoodie, fingers bunching into the fabric like it might disappear if he let go.

Sero yelped quietly in surprise. "Roki...?"

Then, a whisper.

"Thank you."

Sero blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And then, without hesitation, he dropped the blankets and wrapped Todoroki in a hug that said everything he couldn't put into words. He didn't ask questions. He didn't pull away. He just held him.

Like he mattered.

Like he was allowed to need this.

The embrace wasn't long, but it felt infinite—anchoring, grounding, healing.

"Come on," Sero murmured, stroking soft circles into Todoroki's back. "Let's go to my room and get comfortable."

Todoroki slowly pulled back, eyes still searching.

Sero gave him a smile—not the cheeky, cocky one he wore in class—but a real one. A quiet, understanding smile, like he saw every shattered piece and wasn't scared of holding them.

"Wanna catch up on One Punch Man?" he offered with a small shrug.

Todoroki blinked at him. And then, slowly... nodded.

"Yeah."

Sero grinned. "Oh man, you're gonna regret that when we're still watching at 4am."

He reached for Todoroki's hand, lacing their fingers together with casual familiarity.

And Todoroki didn't pull away.

As they walked toward the elevator, fingers still intertwined, Todoroki felt that persistent coldness in his chest start to thaw. The part of him that expected to be left—again, and again, and again—felt quiet. For once.

He didn't even realize he was smiling.

But Sero saw it. And his own heart skipped a beat.

And somewhere deep inside Todoroki, the smallest flicker of hope began to glow again.

A light that maybe—just maybe—he was worth staying for.

Behind them, in the kitchen, two sets of eyes followed their retreating forms.

Uraraka's brows furrowed in quiet concern. Her gaze lingered on Todoroki longer than the others might notice.

Midoriya, on the other hand, had frozen.

His laughter had died in his throat the moment he saw them.

And now his freckled face wore an unreadable expression—something tight around the eyes, something brittle in the jaw. Something unmistakably sharp.

Jealousy.

The elevator doors slid shut behind them.

And with it, a new chapter silently, irrevocably, began.

Chapter 9: Bonding

Notes:

School starts, work starts...

Third Person's POV:

"See ya later, boys~!"

Mina waved dramatically as she strutted out the doors, her pink curls bouncing with every step. The rest of the Class 1-A girls followed behind, all dressed up and chatting excitedly about their long-awaited mall day.

Finally, a proper girls' day. No training drills, no surprise villain attacks—just shopping, snacks, and plenty of gossip.

Back in the common room, the boys watched them go, a collective wave of envy rolling through the space.

"Man, how come we weren't invited?" Mineta whined, slumping against the couch like he'd just been personally betrayed.

"Because they didn't want to be around creeps like you," Ojiro muttered, scooting a little farther away from the pint-sized pervert.

A few of the boys snorted, some laughing outright at Ojiro's deadpan delivery.

Mineta huffed, crossing his arms with a pout. "Unbelievable..."

"The better question is," Aoyama declared as he flopped dramatically onto the sofa, hand over his glittering heart, "why wasn't I invited?"

"It's a girls' day, Aoyama," Sato reminded gently, already bracing for his dramatics.

"So?! That's no excuse to exclude fabulousness!"

"Well," Kirishima interjected, scratching the back of his head, "Mina actually said she didn't wanna spend the whole day stuck in a mall with a bunch of guys trailing behind. They wanted to do their own thing, y'know?"

Aoyama let out an exaggerated gasp and collapsed farther into the cushions.

Koda, sitting quietly beside him, patted his back in silent sympathy while Aoyama made tragic little sniffing sounds.

Meanwhile, Iida stepped to the center of the common room with purpose.

"I believe this level of personal bonding is excellent for our development as pro heroes," he declared, arms chopping through the air. "Trust, camaraderie, and communication are crucial! I suggest we follow their example and engage in a structured team-building exercise."

The response was immediate: groans all around.

Denki practically melted off the beanbag chair. "Nooo, not the Iida version of bonding..."

"I can feel the spreadsheets already," Shoji muttered.

Sero, who was stretched out on the other couch with his feet kicked up, clasped his hands together and faked a sniffle. "Ah, alas... I'd love to join, truly, but I'm still grounded. Dorm-bound. A prisoner of my own tape-related mischief."

"Lucky bastard," Denki and Kirishima muttered in unison, shooting him twin looks of betrayal.

The rest of the boys gave Sero varying degrees of envy, except for Todoroki, who frowned faintly, his brows knitting as he looked at him.

He thought Sero was being serious.

That small frown tugged down harder at the corner of his lips.

But then—an idea.

"Maybe we can stay inside," Todoroki said thoughtfully, voice calm but firm. "And still bond."

All eyes turned to him.

Sero blinked in slow horror.

The silence broke with a chorus of snickers.

"Now that," Iida said, adjusting his glasses with a sparkle in his eye, "is an excellent suggestion, Todoroki! Indoor bonding can be just as productive, especially if it includes aiding Sero in his path to better conduct!"

Sero's mouth fell open. "Wait—what?"

Denki doubled over, cackling. "Oh my god—Sero, you just got yourself an intervention!"

Kirishima wheezed. "Bro, you suggested it. Todoroki just sealed your fate!"

Todoroki, meanwhile, sat with the smallest hint of pride in his otherwise blank expression. He may not have understood group dynamics well, but he knew one thing: Sero wouldn't feel left out today.

Not on his watch.

Sero groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I played myself."

"Yeah no, I'm not gonna be a part of this shit show," Bakugou grunted, rising from where he sat next to his boyfriend and brushing imaginary dust from his pants.

"Aww, come on, Bakugou!" Denki laughed. "Don't you wanna see Sero get emotionally grilled?"

Sato wiggled his brows. "We could call it: Tape-Face Truth Hour."

Sero let out a loud, theatrical sigh. "Please. Mercy."

"There's no way in hell I'm staying for that loser," Bakugou snapped, pointing at Sero like he'd just committed treason.

"Oof," Sero clutched his chest like he'd been stabbed. "Wounded. Betrayed. Heart shattered."

Todoroki narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't very nice."

"It's Bakugou," Shoji said dryly to Koda, who just nodded.

Iida stepped forward, posture upright. "Bakugou, it would be most productive for you to engage with your team constructively. Words can cause deep psychological wounds."

"Can I cause a physical one too?" Bakugou muttered, already stalking toward the elevator.

But before he could reach it, a red blur stepped in his path.

"Katsuki."

The blonde grumbled, spinning to find Kirishima standing there with a crooked grin and a hand on his hip.

"C'mon, man. Stay."

"The hell for?!"

"Because," Kirishima shrugged, "it won't be fun without you."

That made Bakugou pause.

Kirishima stepped closer, dropping his voice so only he could hear. "And you're way more fun than you think you are. Plus... I like having you around, even when you're grumpy."

Bakugou scowled, ears tinged pink. "Tch... stupid..."

Kirishima just grinned, leaning into his sharky charm. "Also... it is an intervention. For Sero. That's gotta be entertaining."

Bakugou tried to hold his scowl... but it faltered. The warmth in his chest was too loud. Too obvious.

He turned away to hide it, but not before Kirishima caught the flicker of a smile.

And then—

"Just let him go, Kirishima," Mineta piped up from the couch, swinging his stubby legs. "It'd be way better without explosion-boy anyway."

The air went still. Dead still.

Kirishima's eyes widened.

Sero slowly sat up straighter, already bracing himself.

Denki's mouth dropped open. "Bro—what are you doing?"

"...What the hell did you just say, grape-head?" Bakugou growled lowly, voice tight and venomous.

Mineta's eyes bulged. "U-Uh—"

"YOU WANNA FUCKING REPEAT THAT?!" Bakugou exploded, literal sparks flaring from his palms.

He lunged.

Mineta shrieked, diving behind Iida like a mouse scurrying for cover.

Iida let out a sigh so heavy, it seemed to carry the weight of every bad decision his classmates had ever made. "Violence is not the solution!" he declared, side-chopping the air in futile protest.

"Bakugou, chill!" Kirishima shouted, managing to grab and bear-hug his fuming boyfriend mid-pounce.

"Okay! Okay! Time to redirect!" Kirishima tightened his grip as Bakugou wriggled like a wild animal. "Iida, WHAT ARE WE DOING?!"

Iida adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat, recovering quickly. "Well, as I was saying before this outburst, we need to focus on activities that promote cooperation and mutual respect. A structured team-building exercise—something that fosters trust—"

"Oh no," Sero muttered, already predicting the worst.

The other boys exchanged grim looks, recognizing the terrifying gleam in Iida's eyes: the "structured-fun" kind.

"Oh! I know!" Denki shot up like someone had zapped him.

"Oh great, the idiot has another stupid idea," Bakugou grumbled, now seated safely beside Kirishima, far from Mineta, arms crossed and still crackling.

Denki pouted. "Tch, rude."

"That's exactly the kind of antagonistic behavior I was referring to!" Iida snapped, pointing dramatically.

"Whatever," Bakugou muttered.

Denki turned to the group and puffed out his chest. "As I was saying, if we wanna improve teamwork, why not play... charades?"

There was a pause.

No one expected an actually decent idea.

"Hey," Kirishima blinked, surprised. "That's not a bad idea."

"Right?!" Denki beamed. "See? I can use my brain sometimes."

"I wouldn't go that far," Sero muttered under his breath.

Denki whirled around and bonked him lightly on the head. "Rude!"

"Ow! That was assault!"

"Hehe," Denki grinned triumphantly.

Iida raised a firm hand, the image of order and organization. "Alright then—charades it is! Since there are fourteen of us, we'll divide into two teams of seven. I will be one team captain, and the other captain shall be—"

"ME!" Denki shouted, practically bouncing on his heels like a Golden Retriever with a taser strapped to its back.

Sero arched a brow from the couch. "Why do you get to be captain?"

Denki blinked, thrown off for half a second, before putting his hands on his hips. "Um, because... it was my idea?"

Sero gave him a flat, unimpressed look while Iida rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The tall class rep glanced down at Denki, who was now giving him big puppy-dog eyes with a little dramatic sparkle.

"...Very well. Kaminari, you shall be captain," Iida relented with a sigh, clearly already regretting the chaos he was about to unleash.

"Awww, what?" Kirishima groaned.

"Ugh," Sero muttered beside him, dramatically flopping his head back against the couch.

Meanwhile, Denki threw both fists in the air. "YEAH! Team Kaminari coming at you live, baby!"

"Alright now, let's form a line so we can pick our teams," Iida instructed, gesturing for the rest of the boys to stand in front of the couch.

They started moving into position, but Sero remained where he was, arms crossed, slouched deeper into the cushions. He felt a little like he was melting into the couch with every second.

All he wanted was to relax in his dorm, scroll through manga, maybe sneak in a nap. Instead, he was here—surrounded by chaos gremlins and being emotionally peer-pressured into "mandatory bonding."

"Hanta?"

The soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Sero turned to find Todoroki standing beside him, looking slightly puzzled.

"Hmm?"

"They're starting to pick teams. Aren't you joining?"

Sero exhaled a breath through his nose. "Yeah... yeah, I'm coming."

He stood, dragging himself to his feet like gravity had doubled just for him. As he stepped beside Todoroki, he caught the way the other boy's gaze lingered on his face—too observant for comfort.

Todoroki tilted his head, brows pinched ever so slightly. "You don't seem like yourself today. Something wrong?"

Sero blinked at him. His heart gave a weird, uninvited twitch in his chest. There was something in Todoroki's mismatched eyes—like gentle concern masked in cool steel.

"Not really," he said, forcing a small smile. "Just tired. Stayed up too late binge-watching anime with a certain ice-fire prince."

Todoroki blinked. "We watched One Punch Man last night. That was your suggestion."

"Exactly. You wanted to watch it. I wanted to watch Fruits Basket."

"You didn't say anything," Todoroki replied with a slight tilt of his lips, voice low and dry with humor.

Sero gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Excuse me for being polite! I was trying to be a good host."

Todoroki gave a soft huff of laughter. "Okay, okay. Next time, you can choose."

Sero perked up, eyebrows lifting. "Really?"

"Yes. And you can also choose the next weekly manga," Todoroki said with a rare little smile curling his lips.

That was something new between them—weekly manga reading sessions. It had started with casual hallway conversations about titles they were reading separately. Then one day, Todoroki had casually asked if Sero wanted to read the same book so they could talk about it. Just once. Now it was a thing.

It was probably nothing. Probably.

Still, Sero's chest felt warmer than it should have.

"Impresionante! I can't wait—my pick is gonna blow your mind."

( Awesome)

Todoroki blinked. "Wait... the book's going to literally explode my mind? Does it have a quirk?"

Sero gave him a deadpan look. "No. I just mean it's really good. But now that you mention it, maybe it should have a quirk."

Before Todoroki could respond, Iida's booming voice echoed across the room again.

"Okay! Everyone line up so we can begin choosing teams!"

"Man, this is sounding like junior high recess all over again," Sato muttered under his breath as he stepped into line.

"At least you got to play outside," Shoji rumbled beside him. "I usually scared the other kids."

Sato raised a brow. "Dude... are you good?"

"I'll pick first!" Denki waved, already bouncing again like a kid hopped up on sugar and ego.

The rest of the boys lined up in front of the couch, waiting to be chosen like dodgeball drafts from hell. Kirishima stood next to Bakugou, one arm slung around his boyfriend as they shared a glance with Sero.

"Our team's gonna be stacked," Kirishima said, giving him a thumbs up.

"Only if we get people who don't suck at charades," Sero replied with a smirk.

Kirishima nodded—and then froze when Denki called his name.

"KIRI~!"

Kirishima grinned and waved goodbye like he was heading to war. "See ya on the other side!"

As he jogged toward Denki team, the yellow-haired teen pounced on his back with a whoop of victory. Sero chuckled at the chaos duo, warmth blooming in his chest.

Then he heard a low grunt.

He turned and spotted Bakugou glaring daggers at the scene like his chili pepper soul had just been stepped on.

Sero rolled his eyes. 'Someone really needs to work on their jealousy issues.'

"SERO!"

He looked up—Denki and Kirishima were both waving wildly at him from across the room like they were trying to guide a plane in for landing.

"Let's go, man!" Denki called, grinning like he already knew they were going to win just by Sero being there.

Relief swept through Sero's chest like a warm tide. Yeah, he knew he was going to get picked eventually—he wasn't bad at games or anything—but still... that moment before being chosen always hit different. A quiet, twitchy tension. That gnawing, middle-school-esque fear of being the last one standing.

And then there was the added pressure of who he didn't want to end up with.

His eyes flicked to Iida's side of the room.

There stood Midoriya, awkwardly stiff with his hands behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels like a soldier waiting for orders. And yeah... no offense to Midoriya. Sero liked the guy—he was sweet, smart, always tried his best. But after last night, Sero really needed some space from the dude.

He rubbed the back of his neck, remembering the weird vibe earlier that morning. Maybe he was just tired and overthinking it, but... Midoriya had been acting off.

Especially when Sero and Todoroki were lounging on the couch together.

Those eyes—green, too intense for their own good—kept flicking toward them. And not in a "casual, background observation" kind of way. It was more like... laser-focused glances. Like he was studying something.

Sero had caught him once and raised an eyebrow. Midoriya had just blinked and looked away, but something about it stuck in Sero's brain like a static charge that wouldn't discharge.

He shook the thought off. It was probably nothing. Hopefully.

Either way, he wasn't about to risk being stuck on that team.

He turned and locked eyes with Todoroki. The younger teen was already watching him—calm, unreadable, but with a flicker of curiosity beneath the surface.

Sero winked. "See ya on the battlefield, Roki."

Todoroki's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. A soft pink bloomed on his cheeks, barely noticeable to anyone else but unmistakable to Sero. He turned his head slowly, trying to mask the reaction behind a neutral expression, but his blink was just a little too slow, a little too telling.

Sero grinned like an idiot, his chest buzzing with tiny sparks of joy.

Oh, this was gonna be a good day.

Jogging across the room, he joined his squad—Denki practically tackled him with a high five while Kirishima pulled him into a bro-hug with one arm.

"Bro, team hype just increased by, like, 200%," Denki said, doing an unnecessary spin.

"I swear you're powered by Red Bull and static electricity," Sero joked, ruffling his hair.

"This team is gonna be lit!" Denki declared, throwing his arms in the air.

"More like dumb as hell," Bakugou muttered from across the room, arms crossed like he was already over it.

Denki huffed but didn't bite back right away—he was too distracted when Kirishima suddenly tugged him down and whispered something in his ear.

Sero squinted suspiciously. When he saw Kirishima gesture discreetly toward Bakugou, he leaned in like a nosy older brother.

"What's he whispering?" he asked under his breath.

Kirishima repeated it a little louder this time. "Bring Bakugou."

Denki stared at him like he'd suggested bringing a bear into a petting zoo. "Hell no."

"Come on, man!" Kirishima pouted like a heartbroken golden retriever.

"He hates me," Denki said in a loud whisper, looking genuinely distressed.

Sero shrugged with mock sympathy. "He does have a point, bro."

Kirishima scoffed and turned toward him with raised eyebrows. "Don't act like you weren't gonna ask for Todoroki if I didn't say anything."

Sero's cheeks exploded with heat. He folded his arms defensively across his chest, avoiding eye contact. "No I wasn't..."

"Liar!" Kirishima and Denki said in unison.

Sero mumbled something unintelligible, glaring at the floor like it had betrayed him.

"Kaminari, it's your turn to choose," Iida called across the room with that perfect mix of authority and nerdy enthusiasm.

Denki, Sero, and Kirishima all looked up like kids caught whispering during class.

Their eyes drifted to Iida's team lineup—Midoriya, Tokoyami, and Iida himself. A certified brain trust.

"Okay... we're kinda already screwed," Sero whispered.

"Yup," Denki muttered.

Denki looked back at Bakugou, who stood there with his arms crossed and a scowl like he was allergic to fun.

There were two options: pick Bakugou for the brains and to keep Kirishima happy... or pick literally anyone else to avoid hearing Bakugou scream at him for the next hour.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll take..."

He paused, glancing at his best friends—both of whom were now giving him matching puppy dog eyes.

He groaned. "Ugh. Fine. Bakugou, I guess."

Kirishima silently cheered and pumped his fist. Sero groaned in defeat, arms still crossed like a child who didn't get the toy they wanted.

He muttered, "I wanted my crush on the team first..."

"What the hell do you mean you guess?!" Bakugou barked as he stomped toward them. "I should've been your first pick, you damn spark plug!"

Denki clapped sarcastically. "Yayyy, so glad you're here."

Bakugou growled but didn't say anything more. When he reached Kirishima, the redhead grinned and pulled him into a quick neck hug. Bakugou muttered something under his breath but didn't pull away.

Sero rolled his eyes. Classic Bakugou. Rage-fueled gremlin with a soft spot for one person and one person only.

He turned back toward Todoroki, who was still standing quietly in the same spot, his gaze fixed somewhere off in the distance. Lost in thought. Spaced out like he was calculating something cosmic.

Sero felt the corners of his mouth tug up.

'So cute,' he thought, chest doing that annoying flutter again. He'd never admit it out loud, but Todoroki spacing out like that? It was honestly one of his favorite things.

He looked so peaceful when his guard was down—just a little quiet weirdo, wandering through the sky in his head.

Sero pressed a hand to his chest dramatically, whispering to himself: "He's gonna be the death of me."

And with that, the next round of team picks began.

But Sero's mind? Still very much on Todoroki, spacing out across the room like some manga daydream come to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The game was nearly ready to begin. Teams were being picked off one by one, and now only two players stood waiting.

Mineta... and Todoroki.

A moment of silence passed.

Why?

Well, first—who wants Mineta? That was self-explanatory.

And second, Denki was feeling just a little too playful today. He could have picked Todoroki right away. He should have. But messing with Sero was way more fun. Plus, if he picked Todoroki too soon, Sero would spend the whole game heart-eyed and be useless.

Also, Denki was maybe, possibly, helping out Midoriya—who had probably told Iida not to pick his ex right away. The tension between those two? Yikes. And nobody wanted to be caught in the middle of that.

But right now? It was Denki's turn. And Sero's fate was in his hands.

Sero, across the room, groaned into his hoodie sleeve.

'This shouldn't even be a debate! It's so obvious! Come on, Denki, just pick him already!'

He looked up, and his stomach dipped.

Todoroki was watching him.

Not annoyed. Not irritated. Just... confused. Like he couldn't figure out what was taking so long. His heterochromatic eyes were soft, wide, and ever so slightly sad—like he'd been waiting at the door too long for someone to invite him inside.

Sero's heart cracked in half.

He marched over to Denki and gripped his shoulders. "Denki," he hissed, voice trembling with urgency.

"Alright, alright, damn!" Denki waved him off dramatically. "Todoroki—you're on our team!"

Todoroki blinked in surprise, then exhaled a quiet breath of relief. His shoulders relaxed as he walked across the room, ignoring Bakugou's loud protests and stomping. He liked this team already.

Behind him, Iida groaned—joined by the rest of his freshly assembled squad. All seven of them turned slowly toward the one remaining pick.

Mineta.

Who looked very, very offended. "Hey! Come on, I'm not that bad!"

"You're worse," Shoji deadpanned.

"Statistically, you're the weakest link," Koda added apologetically.

Mineta wailed like a cartoon ghost.

Meanwhile, Todoroki took his place beside his new teammates: Denki, Kirishima, Sero (still internally celebrating), Bakugou, Sato, and Aoyama. A slightly chaotic team, but undeniably stacked.

Across the room, Team Strategy had Iida, Midoriya, Tokoyami, Shoji, Koda, Ojiro... and the unfortunate grape child.

"Alright," Iida said, stepping forward with purpose. "I'll go get the drawing boards and dry-erase markers. Let us begin the sacred ritual of friendly competition!"

As he marched off, the others started pushing the couches aside and clearing the living room floor. They'd agreed earlier to mix charades and Pictionary for maximum chaos.

A bonding activity, Iida had called it. An excuse to scream at each other in ridiculous guesses, Denki had said.

Sero was half-listening. His attention drifted—inevitably—back to Todoroki, who was helping Tokoyami slide the coffee table out of the way. His sleeves were rolled up slightly, fingers curling against the edges of the heavy furniture. Nothing particularly special.

But to Sero? Everything he did looked... good.

Maybe it was the light. Maybe it was the way Todoroki's hair kept falling into his eyes while he worked. Maybe it was the way he blinked slowly, like his thoughts were always heavier than the rest of the room. Whatever it was, Sero sighed—completely and totally gone.

"Dude."

He blinked and turned. Denki was watching him with an expression that hovered somewhere between amusement and concern.

"What's up?" Sero asked, feigning innocence.

Denki leaned in. "I swear I just saw Midoriya giving you looks again, man."

Sero's brows lifted. He turned slightly, scanning the room until his eyes landed on the green-haired boy across the way. Midoriya was chatting quietly with Shoji and Ojiro, but something about the way he glanced up—just for a split second—made Sero's skin crawl.

"Seriously?" Sero muttered.

Denki nodded. "Dead serious. He's been weird since this morning. Just... watch your back. Maybe cool it with Todoroki a bit, yeah?"

Sero frowned. "Denki, it's not like me and Todoroki are a thing."

"Uh-huh." Denki crossed his arms. "So the fact that you were just daydreaming about him moving furniture has nothing to do with anything?"

"Shut up."

"Okay, lover boy."

Before Sero could defend himself further, a familiar calm voice cut through the moment.

"Hello, Denki. Hanta."

They turned to see Todoroki standing there, hands awkwardly clasped in front of him, cheeks lightly pinkened from the effort of moving furniture.

Denki cleared his throat. "Hey."

"Hi," Sero said, smiling reflexively.

"Um," Todoroki began, shifting slightly. "I've never played this game before. I was wondering if you could help me understand the rules?"

"Yeah, of course!" Sero brightened immediately. "It's super simple. You'll catch on in no time."

Todoroki gave him a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Hanta."

Sero beamed. "No worries, Roki. Besides, our team's stacked now. We've got you—we're unstoppable."

And just like that, Sero slung an arm around Todoroki's shoulders.

Todoroki's cheeks turned from pink to a full rosy flush. His stomach fluttered—again.

It had been doing that a lot lately. He wasn't entirely sure when it had started, but now, every time Sero touched him, smiled at him, or even looked at him for too long... it started up again.

He used to hate that feeling. It was unpredictable, distracting, a constant reminder of his messy emotions.

But lately? He didn't mind it so much.

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Denki was still watching the two of them, concern clouding his usual sunny demeanor.

"Hey, Kaminari?"

He turned to see Kirishima sidle up beside him. "Our team's gonna be so dope, huh?"

"Yeah..." Denki said unconvincingly.

Kirishima tilted his head. "What's up?"

Denki sighed. "It's Sero."

The redhead followed his gaze, watching as Sero and Todoroki leaned into each other, laughing quietly about something no one else could hear.

Kirishima smiled. "Maybe they're gonna work out."

"I doubt it," Denki muttered.

Kirishima's smile faltered. He didn't know what was going on with Denki and Midoriya or Sero or whatever triangle this was turning into... but the vibe was off. He opened his mouth to say something—

"Alright, teams!" Iida's voice boomed across the room as he returned, both arms filled with giant whiteboards and colorful markers. "We are ready to begin!"

Everyone snapped to attention.

As Iida explained the rules—again—Mineta rolled his eyes dramatically. "We know the rules, nerd."

Shoji clapped a hand over his mouth. "Let him finish."

Iida cleared his throat, unfazed. "As I was saying. One player from each team will draw or act out the word or phrase. They'll have sixty seconds to perform, and the rest of the team will have three minutes to guess. Points are awarded per correct answer. Highest score wins this bonding exercise."

"Let's gooo!" Kirishima cheered.

"Hell yeah!" Denki echoed—though with slightly less enthusiasm than usual.

Everyone began settling into their team spots, the excitement buzzing through the room like electricity before a storm.

Sero slid into his seat beside Todoroki, nudging his knee lightly. "You ready for this?"

Todoroki nodded. "More than you know."

And across the room, Midoriya sat silently with his team, jaw tight, eyes flickering across the room—landing briefly on Sero.

Something unreadable passed behind those green eyes.

The game had begun. But something else had already started long before the first word was drawn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"Alright, we have a total of... two points."

Cue immediate groaning from half the room.

Yeah. We suck. No sugarcoating it.

Two points. Two. Four people have gone, the whiteboard looks like it's been attacked by feral pigeons with markers, and somehow, we are still hanging out at the bottom of the scoreboard like a sad little underachieving club.

Our pride's already in the dirt, and I think it's starting to dig a hole.

Earlier, Bakugou lost his mind—and almost his eyebrows—because no one could figure out that the boxy mess he drew was supposed to be a football.

A football, he claimed. That disaster looked like an air fryer if you squinted hard enough and maybe cried a little.

"That wasn't a football!" I'd said at the time, dodging a miniature blast.

And now, somehow, things were only getting worse.

"Alright, Todoroki, it's your turn," Sato announced, scratching the current scores into a notebook like it personally offended him.

I looked over at Todoroki.

My crush. My chaos. My deeply confused, accidentally charming, emotionally constipated dreamboat.

And he looked... hesitant. Eyes scanning the group, shoulders stiff like he'd just been handed the nuclear launch codes instead of a dumb party game card.

I reached over and gently tapped his arm. He turned to look at me, those dual-colored eyes blinking slow like they always did when he was processing. I smiled at him, tilting my head.

"Come on, mi amigo. You'll be fine."

His eyes searched mine for a second before he nodded, quietly. Like he needed just that little push. And my heart? My heart flipped.

I watched him get up, graceful and awkward all at once. That boy moved like a mix between royalty and someone who had only just learned how limbs worked. And somehow it worked for him.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and cheered, "Let's go, Roki!"

I could feel the others glancing at me, a few eyebrows raised, but I didn't care. The guy was trying.

He'd never played this game before. Hell, he barely knew the rules. He deserved at least one person hyping him up.

He stood in front of the stack of drawing prompts and stared down at them like they were judging him.

And then I saw it—his ears turning red.

A blush. A real one. Right there on that stoic little face.

God. Help me.

There's something about seeing him blush that just melts me. It's like proof that he's not some walking refrigerator. Like he actually feels things. That beneath all the monotone and the trauma and the rigid upbringing, there's still a soft, confused, very human boy.

The others always joke that he's a robot or something, like he doesn't understand basic emotions, but they're wrong. I've been hanging out with him more and more lately, and I've seen it—the little moments.

The way he smiles to himself when he thinks no one's looking. How he quietly hums the same two lines of random lullabies under his breath. How he eats his soba way too fast when he's nervous.

"Um... what do I do with this?" he asked, holding up the card.

Before I could even open my mouth—

"YOU IDIOT!" Bakugou exploded from across the room. "You're supposed to draw what's on the damn paper, not ask stupid questions!"

Roki blinked, completely unbothered. "Oh. But... how would I even draw a horse?"

Screams.

Everyone groaned. I facepalmed so hard my palm stung.

"You weren't supposed to say it out loud!" Kirishima cried.

"Oh," Todoroki said again, like someone just told him the sky was blue.

Sato strolled over with the calm authority of a tired father at a middle school science fair, plucking the card from Todoroki's hands like he'd just discovered someone trying to mix vinegar and bleach. He didn't even sigh, but you could feel the sigh in the air.

"Here," he said, handing Roki a new card. "Try again. And this time... don't say it out loud."

"Right," Todoroki replied, ever so obedient.

I watched him lower his gaze to the new card like it had personally insulted him. His brows scrunched together, and I swear, he looked like he was about to launch into a thesis paper on the molecular breakdown of confusion.

He was like a golden retriever who had just been handed a Rubik's cube.

A very, very pretty golden retriever. With chronic art block.

"OH MY GOD, HURRY THE HELL UP!" Bakugou snapped from across the room, his voice sharp enough to shave metal.

Half the room flinched. I groaned.

Alright. That's enough.

I pushed up from the couch and walked over, finding Todoroki still standing in front of the whiteboard, shoulders slightly tense, fingers twitching like they weren't sure whether to draw or crumple the card into dust. He was overwhelmed—and not even trying to hide it.

"What is it?" I asked gently, lowering my voice so only he could hear.

He glanced at me, then turned the card to show me. "I... I don't know how to draw this."

I looked at it.

The Godfather.

Oh.

How the hell do you Pictionary that?

"Sero, no helping!" Denki called out in that whiny voice of his.

"Actually," Kirishima cut in, voice smooth like a lawyer at the podium, "Iida said two people can draw at once. It's in the rules."

My guy. My ride-or-die. The MVP of my social life.

I turned back to Roki, leaned in close—close enough to smell his stupidly good shampoo—and whispered, "Draw a bed. Then a horse's head on it."

He looked at me like I'd just asked him to commit a crime against art and decency. That signature Todoroki confusion was written all over his face, like he was actively buffering.

I grinned. "Just trust me," I said, and ruffled his hair before stepping away.

I flopped back down on the couch like I hadn't just committed an act of emotional terrorism.

Immediately, I felt them.

Kiri and Denki's stares. Burning. Intense. Full of accusation.

"What?" I asked, dramatically tossing my hands up.

Kiri leaned in. "Dude. Were you flirting with him?"

Me? Flirting with Todoroki? The boy I've been hopelessly into since he complimented my smile that one time in the cafeteria like it was just a passing thought?

Please.

"...No?" I said, voice cracking on the question.

Denki gave me that look. "You so were. And you're terrible at it."

"Excuse me?" I turned to him, offended. "I know Mr. 'I Once Sent a Girl a Spotify Playlist and Got Blocked' isn't talking."

That shut him up.

Across the room, Aoyama burst out laughing, and Sato cracked a smile. I swear Bakugou smirked for like, half a second. Worth it.

Feeling smug, I turned back to the board—

—and immediately regretted it.

"...Roki," I said, blinking at the whiteboard. "What the hell is that?"

Whatever he'd drawn, it wasn't right. It was a chaotic mess of lines and smudges, something that might have been a horse—or possibly a dying llama—bleeding in what appeared to be a lumpy bed.

It looked like a haunted piñata crime scene. In crayon.

Kiri leaned forward. "Is that a... goat?"

"No, wait—" Denki squinted at the board like it had personally offended him. "I think that's supposed to be... a bed? And... is that blood?"

Roki nodded solemnly. "It's a horse."

Denki dropped his head into his hands. "God."

Kirishima leaned forward, eyeing the chaos scribbled on the board. "But weren't you not supposed to draw that one?"

Todoroki blinked, expression calm as ever. "He told me to."

Then he pointed.
At me.

The entire room turned to look at me like I'd just admitted to burning down an orphanage. I shrank into the cushions, my hands up like I'd been caught red-handed.

"Okay, I suggested something," I said, palms open, trying to plead my case. "I didn't tell him to summon the tortured spirit of a dead carousel animal!"

Denki groaned, rubbing his temples like this entire game was giving him a migraine. "You can't say what the prompt is while we're still guessing, man!"

"Oh," Roki said, tone completely neutral. Like he'd just learned about gravity.

Sato leaned in, trying to piece it together. "Horse and bed... uh..."

Kiri snapped his fingers. "Oh! It's—"

"Godfather!" Denki shouted, beating him by milliseconds.

Roki nodded, utterly unfazed. "Correct."

Kiri threw his hands up. "Bro! I said it first!"

But Denki was already halfway to the front like he'd just won a gold medal in "Shouting the Right Answer."

Meanwhile, Todoroki walked back to the couch with the unbothered grace of someone who'd just committed a murder and was totally okay with it. He sat down next to me and looked up with those serious eyes.

"I don't think I did it right," he said softly.

I smiled. Couldn't help it. My heart was already warm. "Nah, you did fine."

He looked down at his hands. His shoulders curled inward, just a little. Barely noticeable. But I noticed.

God, he was adorable when he second-guessed himself. Something about how someone so composed could also be that unsure—it wrecked me. Made me want to wrap him in bubble wrap and tell him he's perfect ten times a day.

I reached out and gave him a gentle bop on the head. "It's just a game, Roki."

He blinked up at me—

And then it happened.

Blush.

Crimson. All over. Cheeks, ears, even his neck. Like someone had hit him with a paint bucket of embarrassment.

I giggled before I could stop myself. He froze like a deer in headlights.

Poor guy. He could handle villains and fire and Bakugou's temper, but one little forehead tap and boom—shutdown.

Before I could say anything else, someone shouted.

"DUDE, what the hell is that?!"

We turned to Denki, who was mid-argument, wildly gesturing at his scribbled mess on the board.

"It's obvious! The teeth explain everything!"

I dragged my eyes away from Roki just long enough to behold the war crime Denki had committed with a marker. It looked like a vending machine had been set on fire, kicked down a flight of stairs, then possessed by a ghost who couldn't draw.

"We are so losing," I muttered.

"Um... is it a dog?" Kirishima guessed, squinting.

"No!" Denki snapped.

"...A cat?" Roki asked, god bless him. Honestly, a solid guess, considering Denki's usual drawing-to-creature ratio.

"No!!" Denki groaned, like we were the dumb ones.

"Dunce Face, what the actual hell is that supposed to be?!" Bakugou barked, arms crossed, already regretting participating.

"I can't tell you, you have to guess!" Denki shot back like we were on a televised game show.

Bakugou groaned like his soul had just left his body through his eyeballs. Honestly? Same.

"And... time!" Sato announced.

Everyone groaned. I gave Denki a slow, dramatic look. "Dude. What was that?"

"It was a lion!" he said proudly, like he'd just solved world peace.

We stared at him.

Then Bakugou exploded.

Not literally. But it was close. The air got hot.

"THAT'S NOWHERE NEAR A FUCKING LION, YOU ELECTRIFIED GARBAGE DISPOSAL!"

"Bakugou! Language!" Iida's voice rang out from the kitchen, scandalized as ever.

Bakugou growled and pointed at Denki like he was about to challenge him to a duel. "You're a fucking idiot."

Denki smirked. "That may be true—but that's not what your mom said. In fact, she thinks I'm funny. Ask her. She'll remember."

Dead silence.

The air left the room.

And then:

"OOOOHHHHHH!!" Sato and I howled, doubling over. Sato actually slapped the coffee table.

Aoyama clutched his chest like he'd just seen a shooting star. "Ooh là là! The scandal!"

Bakugou stuttered.

"W-What the HELL did you just say!?"

I gasped and pointed. "He stuttered! Oh my god—did we just witness a Bakugou system error?"

"HE BLUE SCREENED!" Denki yelled gleefully.

"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!" Bakugou shouted, a flame igniting in his palm.

"OKAY!" Kirishima bolted upright, waving his hands. "New turn! I'll go next! Also, Denki, that was definitely not a lion!"

I raised my hands in mock surrender, trying to hold in the laughter. Denki plopped down beside me with a loud huff and casually flipped me off for laughing at him.

I laughed harder.

Then—I felt it.

A poke on my shoulder.

I turned.

Roki sat there, blinking at me like I was a particularly difficult crossword puzzle.

"Sí?" I asked cautiously.

"What did Kaminari mean when he said Bakugou's mom thinks he's funny?" he asked, completely serious. "Do they... know each other?"

My soul left my body.

Denki let out a wheeze so violent I thought he might pass out.

My face caught fire. "Por qué yo," I whispered to the heavens.

( Why me)

"Hanta?" Todoroki asked again, genuine confusion in his eyes.

I looked to the side, silently begging for backup.

"U-Um, he just means—" I started, but—

"I bet Bakugou's mom knows me very well," Denki cut in, barely keeping it together as he fell sideways, cackling.

"I'LL KILL YOU, DUNCE FACE IDIOT!!" Bakugou roared from across the room.

Denki didn't even flinch. He was gone. Laughing too hard to breathe, practically convulsing on the carpet. I couldn't help it—I joined him. It was contagious, like a flu made of chaos.

Bakugou's whole body was vibrating with rage. He looked like he was charging up for a final boss fight. Steam curled off his palms. His eye twitched.

"Hanta?" Todoroki asked again, head tilted. "Is Kaminari dating Bakugou's mom?"

That broke me.

I collapsed, wheezing like an old man. Denki hit the floor like a sack of wet rice. Sato's whole body was shaking. Even Aoyama's mascara was running from the sheer force of laughter.

"I'M NOT DATING HIS MOM!" Denki wheezed. "But I'd treat her right! Candlelight dinner, proper respect—good morning texts!"

"Candlelight dinner?!" I shrieked, face beet red.

Bakugou looked feral.

"R-Roki—you're killing me!" I choked. "He doesn't even know her first name!"

Bakugou was full detonation mode. His eyes glowed like molten lava.

"What's her name?" Roki asked innocently. "Maybe they can become good friends."

The room detonated.

Denki kicked his legs like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Her name's Mitsuki! And she's a queen!"

"DENKI," I gasped. "STOP COMMITTING VERBAL WAR CRIMES!"

Somewhere in the chaos, Bakugou vanished—literally gone. One second there, next second poof, like an angry genie had snapped and rage-teleported out of the common room.

"And... done!" Kirishima called from across the room, clearly unaware that society had crumbled in his absence. He paused, blinking. "Wait—why is everyone laughing like gremlins?"

"I don't know," Todoroki replied helpfully. "I asked what Kaminari meant about Bakugou's mom, and they started laughing. I think now Bakugou might be committing arson."

Kirishima squinted. "...Oh. Yeah, that tracks."

Denki smacked the floor with an open palm. "DUDE—Roki, I love you."

"Love is a strong word," Todoroki replied.

"So is Mitsuki," Denki shot back with a wink.

"Really?" Kiri said, now in full Disappointed Dad Mode. "Now I have to fix this? You guys are giving me gray hair."

He sighed and followed the vapor trail that used to be Bakugou.

I wiped my face with both hands, breath trembling. "Look what you did," I muttered to Denki.

"What I did?" he looked personally offended. "You were laughing louder than me!"

"You started it!"

"Yeah, well..." He smirked. "It was worth it."

I groaned, grinning through the pain. "You're lucky Bakugou doesn't carry a sword."

"He doesn't yet." Denki wiggled his eyebrows. "But when he does, I'll win his mom over before he skewers me."

I smacked him with a pillow. He laughed harder.

Eventually, we pulled ourselves back together and turned toward the board.

"...Wait," Sato said. "What did Kiri even draw?"

We all stared blankly at the board.

"...I got nothing," Denki admitted.

Somewhere on the whiteboard was a chaotic mess of half-circles and lines that could have been anything. A crab? A blender? A tragic attempt at a sunburnt hamburger?

Didn't matter. Kiri was gone. So was the answer. That round was dead.

We glanced at the other team.

They were seated properly, still guessing drawings, laughing with each other instead of at each other. Polished. Focused. Like functional people.

And that's when I saw him.

Roki.

He was staring.

But not at the game. Not at the drawing. Not at us.

At him.

Midoriya.

My chest dropped like a stone in water.

He wasn't looking at him like you'd look at a classmate. Or a teammate. It was softer than that. Steady. Focused. Quiet admiration that said everything I didn't want to hear.

I looked away quickly, throat tight.

Knew it. I knew it. There was no way he was over him. That kind of love doesn't just disappear. I was stupid to hope it might.

I felt an arm slip around my shoulders.

Denki.

He didn't say anything at first. Just looked at me with this... knowing sort of expression. The kind that makes you feel seen and small all at once.

"Dude," he said, voice low. "Just get over him."

I didn't answer. Couldn't. My eyes were still glued to the side of Todoroki's face, watching him watch someone else.

I swallowed hard.

"...I can't."

Denki exhaled through his nose, but didn't argue.

Then he leaned closer and whispered, "Hey, wanna ditch?"

I blinked. "Where to?"

"My room. We could just chill, play some games. I downloaded that new Apex Legends update."

I turned to look at him—his grin was brighter than a solar flare, hopeful and warm in a way that felt like a temporary escape. Denki and Kiri had this way of lighting up even the darkest places in my head. Sometimes annoying, yeah. But mostly... life-saving.

I nodded. "Sure. Wanna invite the others?"

"If you-know-who doesn't come," Denki muttered under his breath, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips.

I knew who he meant. Of course I did.

Still, a sharp pang of guilt twisted in my gut. Leaving Roki behind like that felt wrong somehow—even if he wasn't looking at me. Even if I was invisible to him right now.

But...

This "team bonding" thing?

Yeah, it sucked.

Not because the games were bad—though Kiri's artistic crimes against humanity definitely didn't help—but because the person I actually wanted to bond with was too busy staring across the room like Midoriya held all the answers to life, the universe, and how to properly love someone.

I stuffed my hands into my hoodie pocket and finally said, "Alright. I'm in."

Denki lit up like a Christmas tree. "Awesome! I'll grab the others and meet you upstairs!"

And just like that, he zipped off to collect our escape squad, leaving me alone with the dying remains of whatever the hell Kiri had drawn last. I glanced toward the other side of the common room.

Laughter. Joking. Casual conversation.

And Todoroki.

Still focused on Midoriya.

Still not looking at me.

Damn.

"Sero?" Denki called.

I turned to see him waving. Sato and Aoyama were already in escape mode, lounging near the elevator like they hadn't just spent twenty minutes suffering through Bakugou's banshee screeching.

"We're ready, dude," Sato said, stretching like he hadn't just watched a man almost combust.

"Yeah, this game is a bust," Aoyama said with a dramatic toss of his hair. "This kind of stress isn't good for my complexion."

Typical.

"C'mon," Denki added with a grin. "I got snacks, too."

That sealed it.

We piled into the elevator, and Denki immediately started recounting Bakugou's public meltdown like a soldier retelling his favorite war story.

"Did you see his face? I thought he was gonna burst into flames and take the entire living room with him."

"I've never seen him that red," Sato chuckled.

"Magnifique!" Aoyama added. "A cherry drowning in rage!"

They laughed, but I didn't.

Not because it wasn't funny—it was. But my head was too full. Of Roki. Of the way he stared. Of the way he didn't look at me.

Maybe all those little moments—his blushes, the glances, the way he lingered around me like I was his favorite chair—maybe they didn't mean anything at all. Maybe it was just residual heat. Something left over from a fire already lit... for someone else.

For Midoriya.

I leaned against the elevator wall and tried to laugh along, but it was hollow. He doesn't like me. Not the way I like him.

And that's okay.

I mean, it has to be.

Because he loves Midoriya. And he'll never love me.

I should've let go sooner. Should've been smarter, should've seen it coming.

But instead?

I held on.

Quietly.

Stupidly.

And now I was paying the price.

Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up and not care anymore.

But right now?

Right now, I wasn't ready to let go.

So I didn't.

"Hanta?"

I froze mid-step like someone had unplugged me from the matrix.

No.

No, no, no, no.

I turned slowly, dread curling around my ribs like a vice.

And there he was.

Shoto Todoroki.

In all his unintentional heartthrob glory, walking toward me like he wasn't completely demolishing the last ounce of composure I had left. His sweater hung off one shoulder—like gravity knew what it was doing—and his hair was a mess in the softest, most deliberate-looking way.

Like he'd just rolled out of a dream.

My dream, specifically.

I glanced at the elevator like it could save me.

Denki was staring at me with a look that said "You traitorous bastard, I hope you get struck by your own karma."

I was so dead.

"I'll catch up with you guys," I blurted out.

Sato, bless him, didn't question it. Just nodded like a bro. "Cool, man."

The elevator doors slid shut with a soft ding.

And then it was just me and him.

Todoroki. Roki.

He stopped a few feet from me, and I could already feel my heart starting to short-circuit like a cheap arcade game.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

His voice was calm, but there was something else tucked underneath it.

Curiosity?

Confusion?

Worry?

It was impossible to tell with him sometimes. He could say "I love you" and it'd sound like a weather report.

"We, uh... were heading to Denki's room. Gonna play some video games. Probably yell a lot. Maybe break a chair. You know. Normal stuff."

I was so proud of how casual I sounded considering my brain was currently on fire and my legs were threatening to sprint away on their own.

"Oh." He blinked. "You didn't like the bonding activity?"

Why did he sound like a kid who just got told his drawing wasn't going on the fridge?

"It was fine," I said, with what I hoped was a chill shrug. "We just figured we'd bond in our own way. Chips. Noise. Denki probably trying to cheat and failing."

He tilted his head, brows drawing together slightly. "Are you... upset with me?"

My heart stopped. Like, literally missed a full beat.

"What?" I asked, blinking rapidly. "Why would you think that?"

He looked down. Then up. And something in his face shifted—just a little. Something quiet. Vulnerable. Guilt-rimmed.

"I don't know. You just seem... different. Distant. And I've been... a lot lately, I know. I'm sorry if I've been annoying or..."

He trailed off. Our eyes met again.

And god help me, I almost stepped back.

Because he looked like a storm caught in the space between lightning and thunder. Like he didn't know whether to shatter or run.

Even in sweatpants and a sweater, he looked unreal. Like some celestial being who just happened to be tragically hot and accidentally soft.

"...Never mind," he said quietly. "Have fun. I'll just go join Iida's team."

And he turned.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

Something inside me snapped like a rubber band stretched too far.

"Todoroki!"

He froze.

Looked back.

"...Yes?"

Just that one word. Soft. Cautious. Like he didn't know if I was about to yell at him or hand him my heart.

Which, honestly, was kind of both.

My mouth was dry. My palms were sweating. My whole soul felt like it was somersaulting over itself, doing cartwheels while blindfolded.

I swallowed hard, then said the first thing that came to my brain—which, for once, wasn't sarcasm or a joke or a carefully deflected feeling.

"You're not a bother."

I held his gaze.

"You will never be a burden to me. I like being around you."

It came out too fast. A little too honest. Way too loaded.

And still, it barely scratched the surface.

Because what I didn't say—what I couldn't say—was that Todoroki could ghost me for a week and I'd still save him a seat. That he could accidentally set my dorm bed on fire and I'd thank him for the warmth. That he wasn't just part of my world—he was my world. The gravity I rotated around. The calm in my chaos. The storm I kept running toward.

His eyes widened.

And then, right on cue, a small flame bloomed from the left side of his head. Just a flicker. Like his body was reacting before his brain caught up.

My heart hiccuped.

Oh. No.

"R-Really?" he stammered.

He stammered.

Shoto Todoroki—stoic, untouchable, beautifully unreadable—stammered.

I nearly passed out.

My knees didn't just buckle emotionally this time—they physically wobbled. I had to pretend to shift my weight just to stay upright.

I nodded quickly, too many words clawing up my throat.

"Of course," I said, my voice unsteady. "You're... calming. Like, when you're around, the world doesn't feel so loud. You make things feel safer. More... balanced. I like that. A lot. I like talking and hanging out with you."

The words hung in the air between us, weightless and heavy all at once.

His fire surged.

And then—because clearly the universe thrives on dramatic irony—ice began creeping along the floor, curling around the soles of his sneakers, snaking up his wrist in delicate frost patterns like a watercolor nightmare.

He wasn't just flustered.

He was glitching.

"Oh crap," I muttered. "I broke him. I actually broke Todoroki."

His face was bright red now. His breath was shallow and uneven. One hand clenched at his side, the other twitching slightly. Fire and ice—two extremes—and he couldn't rein in either.

He looked like a live wire about to snap.

I panicked.

I dashed forward, waving a hand in front of his face like I was trying to flag down a cab in a blizzard. "Roki? Hey, Roki? Mi amigo? Snap out of it, por favor??"

Nothing.

No response. No blink. Just one extremely attractive statue radiating both steam and frost like a dying air conditioner.

The fire was licking dangerously close to the hallway ceiling. The ice had stretched halfway across the wall now, glittering like glass.

Okay. Do something. Do something dumb and dramatic. That's your brand.

I panicked.

So, in a final act of unhinged bravery, I did the only thing I could think of.

I stepped right up to him—heart sprinting like it was late to a meeting—and gently, so gently, placed my hand on top of his head.

Instant regret.

My palm immediately sizzled. The heat scalded. The other side of my hand numbed, like it had been dunked in dry ice. It felt like I was holding a cursed lava popsicle wrapped in snow.

But I didn't pull away.

I just stood there, hand in his hair, praying to every known god that this wasn't how I died.

"There, there," I whispered, brushing his bangs back. "You're okay. You're safe. I meant it, Roki. Every word. You're not too much. You're just right. You're good. Better than good. You're everything.

His flame flickered.

The ice slowed its crawl.

I swallowed hard and kept going.

"Roki," I murmured, voice softer than it had ever been. "You're not alone. You're not weird. You're not a burden. You're you. And I... I like being with you."

His breathing hitched.

But slowly—slowly—his shoulders began to relax. The fire started to pull back, curling into his hair instead of blazing. The ice receded from the walls, melting in reverse like a spell being undone.

The hallway began to return to normal.

I didn't realize I was still holding him until he blinked. Slowly. Like coming out of a trance.

His eyes focused on me. Bright and blown-wide, still pink around the rims.

"Y-You good?" I asked, cautiously, hand still tangled in his hair like a tether.

He didn't answer.

But he also didn't pull away.

And that... that was everything.

We stood like that for a long beat. Just breathing. Just existing. Me holding him like he was a fragile thread I'd been chasing through the dark.

Then I forced a grin, trying to lighten the moment before I melted into a puddle.

"You wanna come with us?" I asked, nodding toward the elevator. "Denki's probably already hoarding the snacks like a gremlin, but I'll arm-wrestle him for your favorite if you come."

His gaze softened. His expression shifted in this tiny, delicate way—like glass catching light.

And then, with a quiet breath, he nodded.

"Okay."

Just one word.

But it landed in my chest like gravity.

He said yes.

To me.

I grinned, heart doing backflips as I gently guided him toward the elevator. Our arms brushed. His hand hovered near mine. Not quite touching. But close enough that I could feel the warmth.

I could already hear Denki's dramatic rant echoing in my head: "You LEFT me with Sato and snacks I can't open! TRAITOR!"

But I didn't care.

Because Shoto Todoroki had chosen me.

And maybe—just maybe—that meant something more than either of us could say yet.

Something real.

Something dangerous.

Something worth setting fire to the whole damn dorm for.

And I wasn't about to let it go.

Not now.

Not ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

"Dude! Where are you at?! These fools are killing me!"

"I'm right here!"

Sato and Kaminari were yelling at the television, controllers in hand, trash-talking like their lives depended on it. Pixels exploded on screen, someone's character flew across the screen, and I heard popcorn hit the floor. Again.

But I wasn't really there with them—not completely.

I sat on Kaminari's bed beside Hanta, the noise around me dull and distant. He was scrolling through something on his phone, legs casually stretched out, shoulder lightly brushing mine whenever he shifted. Everyone else was sprawled out across the dorm room floor, laughing, shoving each other, yelling about combos and special attacks, but all I could do was sit there, stiff and distracted.

My mind kept looping back to what happened earlier. To me—blanking out. Again.

Only this time, in front of him.

Hanta had been talking to me, smiling like he always does, and something in my brain had... shut off. Not just a light switch—more like someone had pulled the plug.

One moment I was standing there, listening to his voice, and the next I was falling back into memories I've spent years trying to keep buried.

My mom. My father. The yelling.

My own reflection in the window, wondering why I existed.

It all hit me like a wave. Unexpected. Crushing.

And then—Hanta's voice cut through. Steady. Warm. Real.

I don't even remember what he said at first. Just the tone. That kindness that always slips into his voice when he says my name.

Then he said something else. Something that made every nerve in my body seize up.

"You will never be a burden to me. I like being around you."

That moment rewired something in me.

Because I've spent most of my life convinced I was a burden. A mistake. A half-made tool that couldn't even control both sides of himself. Even after Midoriya—especially after Midoriya—I'd gone back to believing I was too much. Too quiet, too strange, too scarred.

He'd told me I was hard to be around. Said it gently, but it shattered something anyway. Told me he needed "space." Told me I was intense.

But Hanta... Hanta didn't look at me like I was overwhelming.

He looked at me like I made sense.

I know he jokes a lot. He plays it off. Makes everyone laugh. But when he said he liked my presence—it wasn't a joke. His voice was too soft, too open.

And it scared me.

Because I wanted to believe it.

I still want to believe it.

Even though I embarrassed myself. Even though I lost control—again—and my quirk reacted to my emotions like it always does. Fire and ice. Chaos in two directions.

I hurt his hand.

He kept saying it didn't hurt, that he was fine. But I saw the way his fingers curled afterward. The subtle shift in his grin. He was lying. And he shouldn't have had to.

I hurt him.

And he still stayed. Sat beside me. Scrolled through his phone like nothing had happened. Kept trying to make me smile.

Why?

Why is he still here?

"Dude! The new Spy x Family manga is coming out this month! Roki, we have to get it!"

That name.

Roki.

Only he calls me that.

It's stupid. It shouldn't matter. But somehow, it feels different when he says it. Like I'm someone softer. Someone allowed to be warm.

I turned my head and saw him grinning at his screen, his whole face lit up with excitement. His smile was like sunlight—too bright, too much, and yet all I wanted was to stand in it a little longer.

I leaned in to look over his shoulder. The screen was filled with colorful manga headlines and an article about the release.

I'd never read Spy x Family. But he looked so excited, I made a decision without even thinking.

"Do you think you'll come and get this with me?" he asked, eyes squinting as he smiled at me.

I nodded. "Of course."

His grin widened, just a little. His cheeks turned pink.

"Awesome! Man, we'll add it to our weekly reads."

"...I thought we were going to finish One Punch Man first?" I asked.

He chuckled—light and easy. "Don't worry, dude. We'll read it. Together."

That word stuck in my chest like a hook.

Together.

With me?

Not out of pity. Not because he felt obligated. But because he wanted to.

Because somehow, Hanta Sero wanted me around.

I smiled—small, uncertain. "Okay."

He smiled back. His ears were pink now. He quickly looked back at his phone, trying to play it off.

"Look, Roki—there's some news about One Punch Man season three!"

My eyes widened. I instinctively leaned in, resting my chin lightly on his shoulder. "Where?"

He didn't pull away.

Didn't flinch.

Just kept holding his phone up so I could read.

"It looks like it's coming out next year," he said.

Next year?

That's a very long time.

I guess I was frowning because a second later, his hand was in my hair, gently ruffling it the way he always does when he's trying to comfort me.

"Don't worry, dude," he murmured. "We'll just read until it comes out."

I looked up. His eyes met mine—warm, deep, familiar.

Chocolate. That's the word.

Hanta's eyes are the color of melted chocolate. Rich and kind and gentle in a way that makes your chest ache.

I blinked, stunned for a second.

He has beautiful eyes.

I like his eyes.

He looked away quickly, pointing to a new post. "Dude, look—there's more info about the animation."

I looked down again. Let him keep talking. Let myself rest my head back on his shoulder, listening to his voice as he switched between Japanese and Spanish, his excitement bubbling up like soda fizz.

I've always admired the way he speaks Spanish. The way it flows so naturally. It makes everything sound a little softer. A little more meaningful.

I want to learn more. I've been practicing—quietly, in secret. I don't know why I want to impress him so badly, but I do.

He's patient. He's been teaching me words here and there. Jokingly correcting my pronunciation. Never making me feel dumb for not knowing.

I wish I'd been friends with him sooner.

Hanta is... kind. Sincere. Safe.

And warm. So, so warm.

Warm enough to melt ice and steady fire.

Warm enough to make me forget—just for a little while—that I'm broken.

That I was ever afraid of being too much.

I don't know what this is. Not yet.

But I know I want to keep it.

Keep him.

Because Hanta Sero is special to me. More than he knows.

And maybe... maybe if I can believe he won't walk away—maybe I can believe I'm not a burden anymore.

Not to him.

Not to myself.

I just hope he keeps his promise.

Because I don't know what would happen to me if he doesn't.

Chapter 10: Help

Summary:

SURPRISE!

Third Person POV:

"Denki, are you sure this is a good idea?"

Kaminari grinned, practically buzzing with confidence—pun absolutely intended. "Yeah, man. If Bakugou wants to be an absolute bitch about it, then we'll just show him that our good, sweet Kiri is a certified heartthrob. Simple math."

Sero and Mina exchanged a long, uneasy glance.

It was never simple with Denki Kaminari.

Especially not when Bakugou Katsuki was involved.

Kirishima, the center of this storm, let out a groan that sounded like it had aged twenty years in five seconds. "Guys, please... can we not?" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "We're literally about to be evaluated. This is, like, the worst timing for a revenge plan."

But Denki wouldn't let up. He was too emotionally charged, too riled up about what had gone down.

And honestly? None of them could blame him.

Bakugou and Kirishima had gotten into a heated argument earlier in the week. Not their usual sparring-type fight—this one was raw. Ugly. And personal. Bakugou had shouted something so venomous, so un-Bakugou even for Bakugou, that it left Kirishima visibly shaken.

"Stop hovering over me like a damn lost puppy—I don't need you around all the damn time!"

Words that shouldn't have hit so hard. But they did.

And now? Denki was on a mission.

They were currently in full hero gear, standing just outside the fake city setup at UA's Training Grounds Gamma, waiting for their winter evaluations.

December had hit them hard. Their work studies were pushing them to their limits, villains had been hitting the streets harder than ever, and the exhaustion was starting to crack even the most stable of them.

So Mr. Aizawa, ever the stoic but watchful eye, had decided to test their growth. No written exams this time—only performance-based evaluations. Realistic simulations. Rapid problem-solving. Teamwork.

If you passed? No finals.

Fail? Enjoy being glued to your desk during the holiday crunch.

No pressure.

"Denki, this is not the time for personal drama," Mina huffed, folding her arms. "Have you seen the rubric Aizawa gave us? I am not taking a written test on legal protocol and rescue strategy."

Denki pouted, walking up to Kirishima and dramatically wrapping his arms around his head like a scarf. "But Minaaaa, our boy looked so heartbroken. Bakugou was a jerk, and we can't just let that slide."

Kirishima groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "Guys, really, I'm fine. I mean—I was upset but I get it. He's... well, he's Bakugou."

"Exactly!" Denki declared, pointing. "That's not a reason, it's an excuse! That guy always gets away with emotionally dropkicking people. But not this time. This time, we hit back."

"By making me look popular?" Kirishima asked, brows raised.

"Exactly," Denki said with a wink. "Let him stew in jealousy. Let him realize what he's missing out on."

Sero sighed and rubbed his temples. "You do realize he literally put me in the nurse's office for two days because I said Kiri looked hot in a tank top once, right?"

Mina nodded with mock solemnity. "Rest in peace, Hanta's ribs."

"And brain cells," Sero added.

Denki huffed. "You're all being dramatic. The plan is foolproof."

"More like full-of-you-know-what," Sero muttered under his breath.

Still, for all their protests, no one actually stopped Denki. Because somewhere, deep down, they were still angry about how Bakugou had treated Kirishima. And yeah, part of them did want to see him squirm.

But that would have to wait—because the first group was already being called for evaluations.

Sero's eyes drifted toward the other side of the training field—and like clockwork, there he was.

Todoroki.

Standing by Tokoyami, face tilted slightly toward the sky like he was lost in thought, wind tugging at his dual-colored hair. Sero didn't even realize he was staring until Mina elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"You are so obvious," she teased under her breath.

Sero blinked. "Huh?"

"You're staring again," Kirishima whispered, grinning behind his hand.

"I am not," Sero hissed, face heating up.

But before he could turn away, Todoroki looked up—and caught him.

And smiled.

Soft and easy. That rare, slightly lopsided smile that Todoroki gave to approximately three people in the entire world.

Sero's brain promptly short-circuited.

He gave a small wave back, cheeks burning under the metal of his helmet. He turned back to his friends in a daze—only to see three very different reactions.

Mina: eyes wide and sparkling like she was watching a romance anime.

Kirishima: smiling, but with a glint of envy, even if he didn't admit it.

Denki: pure judgment. Arms crossed. Eyebrow raised. "Dude. Focus."

"I am focused," Sero said unconvincingly.

Before Denki could launch into a lecture, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps—approaching them. Steady. Calm.

Sero's breath hitched.

Todoroki was heading straight toward them.

'Crap. Okay. Just act natural. Be chill. You're a pro hero-in-training. You fought a sludge monster last week. This is nothing. You got this. You totally—'

"Hi, Hanta."

'Okay never mind you don't got this.'

"H-Hey, Roki," Sero managed, and cringed internally.

So much for cool.

Todoroki's face didn't change, but his eyes twinkled, just a little. "Are you ready for your evaluation?"

"Sure am," Sero replied as he lifted his helmet, regaining some footing. "I mean, I've got tape powers, what could possibly go wrong?"

From behind, he could feel Denki's deadpan aura intensifying. Mina had physically turned away to squeal into her gloves.

Kirishima just gave him a thumbs up behind Todoroki's back.

Todoroki let out a quiet laugh. It wasn't loud, but it was warm. Genuine.

"I'm looking forward to it. Your moves are... unpredictable. In a good way."

Sero wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh, you know it. I've got a whole arsenal of impressive tape-based flair just waiting to blow you away."

Todoroki paused. Thought for a second. Then tilted his head. "Is that... one of those expressions that doesn't mean what it sounds like?"

Sero chuckled. "Yep. I'm not literally going to blow you up."

"Good," Todoroki said, a smile playing at his lips. "I'd rather not be hospitalized again."

Then, as if the universe wanted to test Sero's ability to stay composed, Todoroki added quietly:

"I'm glad I get to watch you."

It wasn't flirty. Not overt. But it was real.

Honest.

And it made Sero's heart do backflips.

"Right back at you, Roki," he said, trying not to sound breathless.

The two of them kept talking, words easy now, laughter soft and private. The background noise of the training area faded around them as they stood just a few feet apart, wrapped in their own little bubble.

Mina clutched her chest like she'd been mortally wounded by cuteness.

"Oh my god," she whispered, practically vibrating. "They're so cute it's illegal. I can't take it."

Kirishima smiled—really smiled—as he watched the interaction, his sharp teeth peeking through. "Todoroki actually looks happy when he talks to Sero. Like, for real."

He slung an arm around Denki's shoulder in shared joy. But the electric blonde didn't return the grin. Instead, Denki's eyes narrowed as he watched Sero smiling—beaming—at Todoroki like he'd just won the lottery.

It was that smile. The one Denki only saw when Todoroki was involved. Whether he was talking to him or just about him, Sero always had this quiet, stupidly soft look on his face. Like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.

And Todoroki? Clueless. Completely unaware he had the power to twist Sero into knots with a single, thoughtful sentence.

Denki scowled. "He's coming."

"Huh?" Mina blinked.

"Who's coming?" Kirishima asked—right before he felt Denki jump onto his back like a wild animal.

"DENKI—!" he wheezed, stumbling as Kaminari wrapped both arms around his neck like a clingy koala.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mina yelped, already wincing as if she knew what was about to happen.

But Denki wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on a familiar figure walking out of the training building. Blonde hair. Permanent scowl. Explosive energy practically leaking from his pores.

Katsuki Bakugou.

"Oh man," Mina muttered. "This is gonna be so dumb."

Denki cleared his throat dramatically—then put on the worst, fakest laugh any of them had ever heard.

"Ohhh Kiri~ that joke you told me earlier? Still thinking about it. Hilarious, I'm telling you!"

Bakugou didn't even glance in their direction. But Sero noticed the slight shift of his shoulders. The faint narrowing of his eyes.

Some students nearby paused, frowning at the chaos like they were trying to figure out whether this was part of the evaluation or a group meltdown.

Kirishima, face burning, looked two seconds away from throwing Denki off his back like a sack of potatoes.

'I hate this already,' he thought bitterly.

He stood up straighter—still carrying a full-grown teenage boy on his spine—and tried to play along.

"Yeah... so funny," he said flatly.

Sero finally turned toward them, brows raised. "What's funny?"

Todoroki looked over too, curious.

Denki, grinning like he was proud of this trainwreck, pointed with his chin. "You know, the joke that Kiri just told us."

Sero followed his gaze to the far right.

Bakugou. Arms crossed. Leaning against the wall. Eyes like flint. Watching. Maybe pretending not to watch, but definitely watching.

"Ohhh," Sero said, catching on. He reached over and started pinching Kirishima's cheek like an overexcited aunt. "Yeah! That joke! So good!"

"So funny," Denki repeated in a syrupy voice, practically strangling Kirishima in his enthusiasm.

Kirishima coughed again. "I'm being abused."

Mina facepalmed. "I told you guys this was a bad idea."

Sero was awkwardly chuckling when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"Hanta?"

He turned—and saw Todoroki watching him with slight confusion.

"Yeah?"

Todoroki blinked slowly. "Kirishima didn't say anything."

The world paused.

Mina gasped. Denki looked like he'd been caught cheating on a test. Kirishima buried his face in his hands.

Sero grinned, wrapping a casual arm around Todoroki's shoulders and pulling him close like they were in on the world's dumbest secret.

"I know," he whispered. "We're just trying to piss off Bakugou."

Todoroki raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He said some shit to Kiri," Sero muttered, dropping the smile for a second. "Really bad shit. So we're getting payback."

Todoroki glanced over at Bakugou. Then at Kirishima, who looked like he was reconsidering all his life choices. Then finally back to Sero.

"You're trying to make Bakugou angry," he said, not asking—just confirming.

"Yup."

"...Isn't that dangerous?"

"Oh, extremely," Sero said brightly. "But worth it."

Todoroki looked thoughtful, then gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod. He looked at the trio which consisted of Mina and Denki pitching the red-haired teen cheeks.

He hummed, he got out of Sero's hold and he stepped out from under Sero's arm and started walking... straight toward Bakugou.

All four of them froze.

"Wait—wait what the hell is he doing?" Mina hissed.

"I—I don't know!" Sero squeaked.

"Is he walking toward—?" Denki pointed. "That's Bakugou."

"Yup," Sero gulped. "That's Bakugou."

Todoroki walked over to Bakguou and was just leaning on the wall with his eyes closed, when he got towards him he opened his mouth.

"Bakugou?"

The name cut through the air like a sharp gust. The blond leaned against the wall with his eyes closed, jaw tight, his whole posture radiating simmering irritation.

"What the fuck do you want, Icy-Hot?" he growled without even looking.

Todoroki didn't flinch. "I just wanted to say... Sero would've won against you."

Bakugou cracked one eye open, his brow twitching.

"...Excuse me?"

"If he'd been paying more attention," Todoroki added coolly, "and if he was focused. Took it seriously."

The training zone froze like someone had hit a pause button on reality.

Denki's mouth fell open. "Oh, shit," he whispered, eyes wide.

Mina, mid-pitching Kirishima's cheeks, froze with her hands still on his face. Kirishima let out a sigh so deep it could've shaken the floor.

Sero, standing nearby, looked like he'd just been sucker-punched by the spirit of every bad decision he'd ever made. "Oh, no," he breathed. "Roki, why?"

"And," Todoroki continued with the calm certainty of a man who had no idea how close he was to dying, "your attitude is terrible."

Jaws. Dropped.

The silence was deafening. Somewhere, a bird chirped — then it stopped, sensing the danger.

Sero felt his soul leave his body. "Why is he still talking—?"

"WHAT," Bakugou roared, voice volcanic, "THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME, YOU HALF-AND-HALF BASTARD?!"

Todoroki turned toward Sero, ignoring Bakugou's fury. "He's angry now, Hanta."

"Oh my fucking god," Sero muttered, his knees knocking together.

Bakugou's gaze zeroed in like a missile system. "YOU!?"

"Uh—me?" Sero squeaked, already taking a step back.

"YOU BEEN TALKIN' SHIT ABOUT ME, HUH?! TO THESE DAMN EXTRAS!? THINK YOU COULD'VE TAKEN ME DOWN, YOU GUM-SHOOTING SON OF A BITCH?!"

"I—NO! I never said—" Sero's arms flailed wildly.

"LIAR! YOUR ASS IS GRASS, TAPE-FACE! AND I'M THE FUCKING LAWNMOWER!"

Sero's blood drained faster than his will to live.

"Bro," Denki whispered. "We're witnessing a public execution."

Bakugou advanced a step, fists crackling with micro-explosions. "YOU BETTER PRAY YOU DIE OF NATURAL CAUSES BEFORE I GET TO YOU, BECAUSE I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL COMMIT A FELONY!"

"Oh mamá...!" Sero whimpered and collapsed to his knees like a man who had accepted his fate.

The heat in Bakugou's glare could've incinerated a forest. He looked around, saw the stunned crowd — and his eyes briefly met Kirishima's disappointed, hurt expression.

That alone made him explode. Literally.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU ALL STARING AT?! FUCK OFF!"

He stormed out like a living firestorm, cursing every step.

Kirishima stepped forward, instinct pulling him toward his friend — but Mina stopped him gently.

"Let him cool down."

The redhead sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. She was right. As always.

The moment the blonde was gone, everyone turned to look at the broken boy on the floor. Sero was as pale as a ghost, trembling like he'd aged twenty years in ten minutes.

Denki knelt beside him. "Dude... are you alive?"

"I—I'm fine," Sero whispered, though he looked anything but.

"Your face is literally snow-white," Mina said, concerned.

"Oh. Cool. Love that for me," Sero replied, voice quivering.

Before anyone could respond, Mineta approached with what could only be described as Grim Reaper energy.

"When do you want us to schedule your funeral?" he asked solemnly.

Sero shrieked.

"Mineta!" Mina hissed.

Kirishima elbowed the grape-haired menace hard enough to make him see stars. Denki slapped the back of his head for good measure.

Sero, meanwhile, collapsed fully onto the ground and curled into the fetal position.

Todoroki and Momo arrived as his core friend group gathered around him in a protective circle.

"Hanta," Todoroki said softly.

Sero's voice wobbled as he stared into the void. "Well... it's been a good run. Thought I had more time. Guess I was wrong."

"Hanta," Todoroki repeated, brows furrowed.

"Goodbye, friends. Roki. I'll miss you. I hope mi familia knows I went out with honor. Sort of."

Todoroki looked genuinely alarmed as the boy sniffled on the floor.

Momo knelt beside him, offering a tissue.

"I just... I just wanted to help you," Todoroki mumbled, guilt creeping into every syllable. "I didn't think he'd— I didn't mean for him to—"

"Nice going, Todoroki," Denki cut in. "You just got our best friend killed."

"Denki!" Mina hissed again.

Todoroki's eyes dropped to the ground, shoulders drooping. "I'm sorry."

Kirishima glared at Denki and bonked him on the back of the head.

"Ow! What?! It's true!"

Momo gently rubbed Todoroki's back as the rest of the class slowly gathered. Even Ojirou murmured a solemn, "Rest in peace, Sero."

Mineta started humming If I Die Young, because of course he did.

"Noooo," Sero groaned. "Not the sappy funeral ballad..."

"You shall be missed," Jirou said softly, head bowed.

"Guys..." Midoriya tried to reason, fidgeting nervously. "I don't think Kacchan would actually kill—"

The collective look he got was one of sheer disbelief.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay. Maybe. Slight chance. He might."

Sero let out a broken laugh. "Goodbye, cruel world..."

And with that, he dramatically flopped onto his back, staring at the sky through the gym ceiling.

A moment of silence passed.

Then Iida, finally finished with his evaluations, marched into the chaos, looked down at the scene of his fallen classmate, and asked in complete confusion:

"...What in the world has happened here?"

"Long story," the class said in unison.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No exam for me, baby! Alright~!" Mina practically sang, bouncing along the paved path outside the school like the sidewalk was a trampoline.

Kirishima chuckled, easily matching her energy. "This is so great, man. Now I don't have to worry about flunking the whole semester!"

"And~ we don't have to cram into our books like lifeless study zombies anymore. We can actually breathe," Denki added, tossing his arms behind his head with a dramatic sigh and wiggling his eyebrows.

"Hell yeah!" the trio chorused, high-fiving and skipping ahead like a pack of over-caffeinated elementary schoolers on the first day of summer break.

Behind the loud, bouncing cluster of Mina, Kirishima, and Denki—who were practically skipping through the school grounds like they'd just been declared royalty—walked a much quieter duo.

Sero and Todoroki moved side by side, their steps slower, more grounded. The contrast was almost comical: ahead of them was summer vacation energy, and behind? A cloud of existential dread.

The sun had dipped just low enough to cast long, warm shadows across the dorm paths, the air cool with that early winter bite. Laughter echoed across campus, ringing in the aftermath of Aizawa's shocking announcement.

No. Winter. Finals.

Some said it was because their evaluations and their work this semester exceeded expectations. Others theorized the staff felt guilty for all the trauma they'd collectively endured—between villain attacks, the disaster at the training camp, and the emotional mess that was the island internship.

Whatever the reason, Class 1-A had been gifted something miraculous: time off. A break. A reason to celebrate.

And they were. Everyone was buzzing, practically glowing with relief.

Everyone except Hanta Sero.

Sero trudged through the gravel path like a man walking to his own execution. His smile was long gone, replaced with a half-frozen look of dread. Every few seconds he glanced behind him like Bakugou might materialize from the shadows.

All because the love of his life (yes, love, don't argue), pissed Bakugou off and now Bakugou wants to kill him. And that explosion boy was many things, but one thing is he going to is keep that promise.

Now, Sero was marked for death.

He figured most of his stuff would go to his cousins. His skateboard? Maybe Kirishima would want it. His rare collection of limited-edition tape rolls? He'd send those to Iida with a polite letter explaining their historical importance. His soul? Probably doomed to wander the halls of U.A., forever screaming "I didn't mean it!"

He wasn't even mad at Todoroki. Not really. The guy clearly didn't know what he'd done. He was just too honest, too literal—too Todoroki. But still... if this was how he was gonna die?

It was gonna be dramatic.

Still...

Having Bakugou on your ass is just damn near suicide.

Bakugou is fucking crazy when it comes to threats like those, and he was in a fight with Kirishima.

His ass is a goner.

But the thing that was making Sero even more frightened—the cherry on top of his "I'm-so-screwed" sundae—was that he had no idea when Bakugou was going to end him.

The threat hadn't come inside the safety of the school grounds. Oh no. It had been outside. Which meant anything was fair game. No cameras. No adult supervision. Just raw, unfiltered, grenade-armed rage with Sero's name on it.

So maybe if he just... never left the dorms again? Maybe he could live the rest of his life from under a pile of blankets, survive on cafeteria delivery and Deku's occasional pity snacks?

Yeah. That might work.

Right?

"...Sero?"

The sound barely registered. The scared tape boy was too deep in his spiraling thoughts to notice the voice calling his name. His brain was too busy hosting an imaginary slideshow of what his funeral might look like.

He wanted roses. Big ones, the kind with thorns that draw blood if you hold them too tightly. Red, white, and deep violet—colors that screamed tragedy. He wanted his favorite Hispanic dishes lined up buffet-style: tamales wrapped in steamed husks, fried empanadas bursting with cheese, and churros so sweet they'd give the mourners cavities.

Music? A must. None of that soft piano or violin crap.

He wanted life—his life—echoing through the room. Cumbia. Salsa. Reggaeton. Something loud, something alive. Something that said, "Yeah, he's dead, but damn, he had vibes."

And crying. Lots of it. Not just little sniffles or single tears. No, he wanted ugly crying. Sobbing. Red faces and runny noses.

Kirishima-level eulogizing that left people in puddles. Kirishima would totally do the speech. He was the only one who could pull it off.

Mineta? Banned. From the building. Possibly the continent.

And then, at the front of the crowd, he imagined him. Todoroki. Still and composed, with his hands tucked into his pockets. That soft, elusive smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The one he only showed when something genuinely touched him.

Yeah... Sero would die a second time just to see that.

"H-Hanta?"

Reality snapped back like a broken tape line.

Sero blinked and looked down to see Todoroki's hand lightly gripping his sleeve. The younger teen had a worried look on his face, one that made Sero's heart lurch with guilt.

His fingers slowly released their hold as a soft blush colored his pale cheeks. He took a small step back, hiding his hands behind his back like he was caught doing something wrong.

Sero raised an eyebrow, still halfway in his head. "Huh?"

"I..." Todoroki hesitated, eyes darting briefly to the ground. "Are you... upset with me?"

Sero's mind blanked. "What? Why would I be upset with you?"

"I got you in trouble with Bakugou," Todoroki said quietly. "You've been acting distant. I thought maybe... you were angry."

For a moment, Sero just blinked. Then, slowly, a warm, crooked smile spread across his face. He reached out and ruffled the younger teen's soft, two-toned hair, making it even messier than usual.

"Dude. You are way too serious," he chuckled. "I'm not mad. I promise."

Todoroki's wide eyes peered up at him. "You're not?"

"Nope. I mean, I was like, 'what the hell just happened' at first... but I'm kinda over it." Sero shrugged, still smiling. "If Bakugou's gonna kill me, at least I spent my last moments with you."

'Holy shit, that was smooth. Someone write that down,' Sero thought proudly. He deserved an award. Or at least a wink from the universe.

Feeling pride in himself, Sero kept that same warm smile on his face while Todoroki was feeling the opposite of Sero.

His heart was pounding like crazy and his face felt like it was in a large flame.

"You... did it again," Todoroki mumbled, gripping the strap of his backpack.

"What?"

"You're... flustering me."

Sero blinked. "Oh. Lo siento, mi amigo. I just wanted to show you how much you mean to me, Roki."

When he saw Todoroki snap his head up at him with widen eyes, his whole face turned red, ' Shit. Shitshitshit. That was basically a confession. Why had I said that?! Am I out of my damn mind?!'

He tried not to panic. Todoroki and Midoriya had broken up weeks ago—so technically, he wasn't stepping on any toes. But still. What if Todoroki didn't feel the same? What if he was just being polite? Or worse—what if he thought Sero was just messing with him?

Especially with all the weird things Todoroki said sometimes.

Like how he thought he was "allergic" to Sero.

Allergic.

Like this man was pollen or something. Who even says that? He wasn't peanuts, he was a person. But Sero knew he couldn't get mad at him, in fact that only made him even more enduring.

He didn't want to confuse Todoroki. Didn't want to pressure him. What if he was only interested in the idea of Sero—someone safe, warm, supportive—without really feeling anything deeper?

"...How much do I mean to you?" Todoroki asked suddenly, cutting straight through Sero's spiraling thoughts.

Sero froze.

Todoroki was closer now—so close that Sero could feel the heat radiating off him. His heterochromatic eyes were trained on Sero's face, intense and searching.

The color red took over the tape boy's face as he looked down at his crush's face.

"I—uh—what do you mean?"

'Damn it.'

"You said you wanted to show how much I mean to you," Todoroki repeated calmly, even though his cheeks were still flushed. "So. How much?"

"I..." Sero floundered. He felt like he'd just been dunked in ice water and thrown into the sun at the same time.

"Because I really like your company, Hanta," Todoroki continued. "And I'd very much like to know how you feel about me."

Sero was speechless, like honestly speechless.

His brain short-circuited. This was not the direction he thought this conversation would take today. He thought he'd maybe flirt a little, maybe die by explosion, and maybe get a smile out of Todoroki before finals. But this? This was...

Bold.
Terrifying.
Kind of amazing.

Todoroki, for his part, was quietly imploding inside. He didn't know why he said any of that. The words had just slipped out like a leak in a dam. Something inside him had cracked, and now all these buried questions and feelings were bubbling up. And he didn't want to shove them back down anymore.

' I don't know where this boldness inside of me came from or why I care so much. But part of me wants to know how Hanta feels about me. Why? I don't know, my lips just started moving without me thinking about it. That's odd.'

" R-Roki I-"

"Do you not like my friendship, Hanta?" Todoroki interrupted, taking another small step forward. Not aggressive. Just... closer.

"No! No, no—it's not like that! I deeply value your friendship!" Sero waved his hands in alarm, practically vibrating with nervous energy. "It's just... more than that. Maybe."

"Then how much do I mean to you?" Todoroki asked again—this time softer. No pressure. No demands. Just... hope. Quiet, trembling hope. The kind that made your chest hurt if you looked at it too long.

Sero's heart lurched.

Todoroki stood there looking so open, so vulnerable, so real, that something deep in Sero ached with the urge to protect him, hold him, never let him go. He looked like he was handing Sero his heart in both hands and asking, "Please don't drop it."

And Sero?

He didn't want to.

Didn't care if they were outside, in the middle of a sidewalk near the dorms, students walking past or Bakugou lurking nearby with a flamethrower personality ready to ignite. Didn't care about the crowd or the time or the fear clawing at his ribs.

He just... wanted Todoroki to know.

Because if this was going to be his final moment before Bakugou turned him into ash, he wanted it to be worth something.

He took a breath. Then another. His palms were sweaty—like, full-on-audition-for-UA sweaty. His heart pounded so hard he was pretty sure even Jirou could hear it from across campus.

"Todoroki... this is probably going to be harder for me than it is for you," Sero said, voice shaking.

Todoroki tilted his head, brows lightly furrowed.

Another breath. 'Get it out, Hanta. Now or never.'

"You've been in my head since—hell, since the first time we trained together. The first time you froze a whole section of the field, and I thought, 'Damn. He's cold literally and emotionally.'" He chuckled nervously. "But then I saw you smile. Just once. And I thought... I want to be the reason he does that again."

Todoroki blinked, his mismatched eyes wide, glowing faintly with emotion.

Sero could barely breathe. "You mean more to me than I even know how to explain. You're not just cool or strong or smart, you're... you're Shoto Todoroki. You're the guy who says weird things when he's trying to make a joke but doesn't realize it was a joke. You're the guy who gives me half of his lunch without asking. You're the guy who—"

"Hanta," Todoroki whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind, but it cut through Sero like a knife.

Sero looked up, heart racing—and promptly forgot how to exist.

Because Todoroki was looking at him with this soft, achingly tender expression. And his hands were right there, inches away.

Without thinking, Sero reached out and took them.

Warm.

Strong.

Steady.

Todoroki's breath caught, a soft, involuntary hitch in his chest—but he didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped forward, slow and certain, until there was barely a breath of space between them. Their foreheads nearly touched, and the world, just for a heartbeat, stilled.

All the background noise—the chatter of students, the distant hum of campus life, even the rustling of the trees—seemed to fade away.

And Sero, eyes locked on Todoroki's, completely lost in the moment, didn't even realize he'd started to speak.

"I just wanted to tell you that I—"

"THERE YOU ARE, YOU DAMN TAPE-FACED LOSER!"

The world snapped back into chaos.

Both boys flinched like they'd been hit by a stun grenade, the fragile moment between them shattering like thin glass.

Sero whipped around, and his heart sank like a stone in water. Charging toward them at full throttle was Katsuki Bakugou, eyes practically glowing with homicidal intent, smoke rising from his clenched palms like a walking demolition site.

"Aw, shit," Sero muttered.

"FIGHT ME!" Bakugou roared, blasting a small explosion at his feet to launch himself forward, his voice echoing down the path like a war drum.

Sero let out a real, bone-deep scream. "WHY NOW?!"

Panic overtook instinct. In a flash, Sero shoved Todoroki back with a firm—but careful—push, as if to protect him from the wrath of a Bakugou missile.

And then?

He ran.

Like his life depended on it.

Because it kinda did.

"I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE!"

He sprinted like an Olympic track star, arms pumping, his tape quirk already activating on reflex to vault himself over a bench and weave through panicked students.

Todoroki just stood there, momentarily frozen, still holding his hands slightly aloft, as if the warmth of Sero's palms hadn't quite faded.

Around him, students ducked and scattered like pigeons in a thunderstorm as Bakugou tore through the walkway after his target.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM ME, YOU WALKING ROLL OF DUCT TAPE!"

"I SAID I WAS SORRY!"

Somewhere across the quad, Jirou stopped walking and just deadpanned, "They seriously need therapy."

Momo sighed. "That's our classmates for you."

But then she slowed, frowning.

Todoroki hadn't moved.

He was just... standing there, staring at his open hands like they were something strange and unfamiliar.

"Todoroki?" she called gently.

He blinked. Looked up, startled.

"You alright?" Momo asked again, her tone quieter, more concerned now.

"I—yeah. I'm fine." He glanced down, then quickly looked away.

But Momo didn't miss the hesitation. She was about to press further, but Jirou tugged her arm impatiently.

"C'mon, we're gonna be late for party setup."

Momo gave Todoroki one last questioning glance before she let herself be pulled along.

As their footsteps faded, Todoroki finally stirred. He looked out across the quad, where Bakugou was still actively trying to end Sero's bloodline while half the school watched in disbelief.

And all Todoroki could feel was a rising, white-hot frustration.

Not his usual calm, quiet annoyance with Bakugou's general existence—no, this was different.

Sharper.

He was actually angry.

Because Sero had been saying something important. Something real.

And Bakugou had completely ruined it.

Of course he did.

Todoroki's jaw tightened, a soft tsk escaping his lips as he shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking. His whole mood was completely demolished now, and he hated how much he hated that.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. About what Sero had been about to say. About the warmth of his hands. About how close they'd been. About—

'Why am I still thinking about his hands?'

He shook his head.

But the thoughts wouldn't go away.

'Bakugou was being unreasonable,' he reasoned. 'Again. Threatening violence, making a scene, distracting Hanta. Not very hero-like behavior at all. Frankly, how has he not been expelled yet?'

And then:

'Why didn't Hanta tell Aizawa? Why didn't he let someone know he was being threatened?'

And then:

'Why did it matter so much to me that he was holding my hands—'

He froze.

Right there on the sidewalk, in the middle of the bustling path, Todoroki stopped moving like someone had hit pause on his entire body.

A few students brushed past him, murmuring apologies as they continued toward the dorms or the party preparations. He didn't register them.

His eyes widened slightly, brows creasing in confusion as his brain tried to catch up with the wave of emotion slamming into his chest.

Wait...

What?

'Am I seriously... upset that he let go of my hands?'

The thought wasn't loud. It whispered in the back of his mind—but it echoed.

And once it landed, it refused to leave.

A strange heat blossomed across his face, crawling from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. He blinked hard, twice, and glanced down at his hands like they'd betrayed him. They felt... cold now. Emptied.

He wasn't just annoyed. Not at Bakugou. Not at the moment being ruined.

He was... sad.

Genuinely disappointed that Sero hadn't finished what he was about to say.

That the closeness—the quiet vulnerability, the sudden proximity, the gentle warmth of those fingers wrapped around his—had been yanked away before Todoroki had the chance to figure out what any of it meant.

And the worst part?

Now he wanted it back.

Not the hand-holding itself—no, that wasn't it. It was him. It was Sero. His presence. His smile. His voice. That quiet, steady warmth that always followed him like sunlight.

Todoroki's heart beat a little faster.

'Sure,' he thought. 'Hanta has nice hands. Big, warm, a little calloused from training. That's just a fact, right? Not a reason to be thinking like this.'

...

Except—he kinda missed the look Sero had been giving him.

Kind eyes, like melted chocolate. A crooked, nervous smile. Something soft. Something real.

Sure, he also kinda missed the way it felt when Sero's fingers laced with his—so casual, so unthinking, yet somehow more intimate than anything he'd felt in a while.

Sure, those fuzzy, fluttering feelings had been rushing through his bloodstream like electricity on overdrive.

Sure, he missed Sero's presence, even though they hung out all the time.

Even though he was probably just a few buildings away.

Even though they were going to the same party.

But right now?

Right now, all he could think was—

I miss Hanta.

That name repeated in his head like a quiet drumbeat.

Hanta. Hanta. Hanta.

Then—

"Todoroki, are you okay?"

He flinched slightly at the sound of his name. His head snapped up, eyes blinking as he was pulled from the depths of his thoughts.

Standing in front of him were four familiar figures: Uraraka, Iida, Tsu, and Midoriya—his friends. Well... used to be. Things had been awkward lately. Especially with one of them.

Uraraka tilted her head. "You've been standing there for like... a full minute. Did you forget something?"

Todoroki opened his mouth. "Uh—"

"We can turn back if you need to," Tsu offered, eyes calm and observant.

"We must make haste!" Iida declared, already mid-arm chop. "We are expected to assist with preparations before curfew!"

Midoriya gave him an awkward smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "H-Hey, Todoroki. How are you doing?"

Todoroki just... looked at him.

His ex.

The person he should still have feelings for.

But there was nothing.

No sadness. No bitterness. No ache.

Just... emptiness.

All he could think about was Sero's hands.

Sero's voice.

Sero's smile.

Hanta.

The other four shifted uncomfortably. The silence stretched. It was getting awkward—fast.

Todoroki barely noticed the way his cheeks were still hot. Or the faint flicker of flame that danced unnoticed in his hair for half a second, betraying the chaos swirling inside him.

He was burning with emotion and had nowhere to put it.

'Why now?!' he thought. 'Why is this happening now?!'

He didn't know how to stop it. These feelings—whatever they were—were overwhelming. New. Uncontrollable. It was like something inside him had cracked open and he couldn't shove it back in.

He needed space.

He needed air.

He needed... Hanta.

"Um, Todoroki?" Uraraka waved a hand in front of his face.

He blinked.

And then, quickly—too quickly—shook his head. "Sorry. I—um. I have to go. See you later."

And just like that, he bolted.

He didn't wait for their replies. He didn't explain. He just ran, disappearing down the trail with his hair still faintly glowing at the ends, his heart pounding.

The rest of the group stood in stunned silence.

"...Well," Uraraka said, lowering her hand. "That was... weird."

"He definitely hates me," Midoriya muttered with a sigh, shoulders slumping.

Uraraka rubbed his back sympathetically. "No, no. Maybe he's just tired?"

"I don't know," Tsu croaked, rubbing her chin. "But... was it just me, or was there a flame coming out of his hair?"

Everyone paused.

Midoriya's eyes widened. "Wait—what?"

"I saw it too," Iida confirmed, adjusting his glasses. "Was he using his quirk?"

"Or maybe he was embarrassed?" Uraraka added. "His face was totally red."

Tsu stared down the path Todoroki had vanished into. "He was definitely out of it..."

Midoriya just looked down, looking more confused than ever. "I... don't get it."

Tsu tilted her head toward him. "Well, whatever it is ribbit, he didn't seem mad at you."

"I dunno..." Midoriya mumbled. "He's just been so different lately. Ever since we—well... broke up."

Uraraka nodded. "He hasn't sat with us in days."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," Iida said, though his expression was uncertain.

Tsu sighed, tugging lightly at Midoriya's sleeve. "Come on. We've got a party to help with."

"Yeah!" Uraraka wrapped her arms around Midoriya's shoulders. "Don't mope too much. We've got snacks to eat and decorations to mess up!"

"W-Wait—Uraraka—air—!" Midoriya wheezed.

She giggled as she let him go. "Let's go, guys!"

The group continued down the path.

None of them noticed the way the late afternoon sun lit up the trees ahead—just past the turn where Todoroki had disappeared.

None of them noticed the soft, echoing footsteps of someone running not away—but toward something.

Or maybe... toward someone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV

"I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE, YOU TAPE-FACE LOSER!"

I groaned into my hands. Great. That's my life now.

Hiding under Mina's bed like a damn cartoon character while Bakugou rages through the dorm halls like a rabid Pomeranian with murder in his heart.

He's been chasing me for a solid hour—and I don't mean the fun kind of chase, like tag or flirtation. I mean the "I'm gonna blast your kneecaps off for existing" kind of chase.

Which is why I'm curled up under Mina's bed, surrounded by fluff-covered socks and the faint scent of strawberry lotion, praying to every god in every pantheon that he doesn't bust through the door like the Kool-Aid Man.

I couldn't go to any of the boys' rooms. Bakugou would raid those like a SWAT team with something to prove. But Mina? Oh no. Even he wouldn't dare.

Mina's room is sacred. It's a glittery fortress of chaos and skin-care routines and mysterious girl objects no one dares to touch—especially not Bakugou. He knows better. She will kill him if he messes with her stuff.

So yeah. Thank God I have a girl bestie.

...Even if hiding here means I've got a sparkly pink hairbrush poking me in the ribs.

And the worst part? This isn't even what I was supposed to be doing tonight. I was in the middle of confessing my undying, painfully awkward, nerve-destroying love to Todoroki when Bakubro decided today was the day to go full menace mode.

Part of me's mad. The other part? Lowkey grateful.

I was babbling like a malfunctioning robot, and Todoroki was just staring at me with those calm, perfect, emotionally unreadable eyes—and I was spiraling, man. I felt like my lungs were turning inside out. Like I was one breath away from completely combusting.

It would've been so embarrassing.

So yeah. Maybe Bakugou's unexpected murder sprint actually saved me from total humiliation. Still...

I can't stop thinking about it. About him.

Just looking at Todoroki's eyes, I feel like I want to be a part of his life. Not even in a fireworks-exploding, hearts-flying kind of way. I just... want to matter to him. I want to be someone he thinks about when the world gets quiet.

But I know I won't be.

I know I'm just the tape guy. The background noise. The comic relief.

He's Todoroki.

And I'm—well, me.

"I think he's gone," Mina called out, her voice calm and casual.

I snapped out of my thoughts and poked my head out from beneath her bed, just enough to see her lounging on the floor, painting her nails like she wasn't hiding a fugitive under her furniture.

I let out a breath of relief and crawled out like a defeated raccoon. "Thanks again, Mina. I was legit afraid he was gonna explode me into dust."

She smirked. "No prob. But you know you can't hide from him forever, right? Especially if he's showing up to the party tonight."

I groaned and flopped back on her rug. "Don't remind me."

She glanced up, arching a brow. "Also... what about Todoroki? Weren't you gonna confess to him tonight?"

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the moment was shattered by a sudden knock at the door.

We both froze.

Our eyes met in silent horror.

No. No, no, no, no—he's back.

I dove under the bed without a second thought, smacking my knee on the frame as I scrambled back into hiding. Coward? Maybe. Survivor? Absolutely.

I know my limits. And if this is the final battle between me and Bakugou, I'm not dying on this hill. Not tonight.

"W-Who is it?" Mina asked, voice a little too high, a little too suspicious.

There was a beat of silence, then—

"Um... it's me. Todoroki."

My eyes widened. Wait, what? Roki?

What the hell is he doing here?

Not that I'm complaining, just... surprised. Like, genuinely confused and mildly panicking.

"Um, hang on," Mina said quickly.

She walked over and pulled up her comforter like it was a curtain, revealing my very dumb, very flustered face.

Her black eyes stared down at me, flat with judgment.

"Well?" she whispered. "Should I get it?"

"Duh," I hissed, smacking the mattress. "Why are you even asking?!"

She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they'd fall out. "You're such an idiot."

I grinned despite myself. "I'd say a lovable idiot, thank you very much."

She placed the covers back on my head and I heard her walking toward the door. I heard the door open and I scooted up just to hear what was going on.

" Hey Shoto baby, what's up? Need to talk to Sero?"

God. That nickname makes my skin crawl every time.

But the voice that followed?

" Actually...I wanted to talk to you. I need advice."

Wait, what?

Mi amor wanted advice... from Mina?

Okay, nothing against her—she's amazing. But if Roki needed actual, logical, not-covered-in-glitter advice, I'd expect him to talk to, I don't know, Iida. Or literally me.

But still, I love her like my sister but come on Roki.

"Why me?" Mina asked, just as surprised as I was.

"Well, Hanta isn't around," he replied, and my heart clenched at the sound of my name. "I asked Kirishima, but Bakugou was too angry and told me to come to you since you're good at this kind of thing."

That's true, in some social aspects. Mina is great for that kind of stuff.

" Aw, ok! Come on in~"

The door closed. The floor creaked. I caught the shadow of Todoroki's feet as he stepped inside, calm as ever. Mina's blankets shifted and—

BOOM.

She full-on bellyflopped onto the bed.

Right on top of me.

My spine! I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from yelping. At this rate, I was going to need physical therapy. But none of that mattered—Todoroki was in the room, and he was about to spill something big.

"What's the prob, Shoto baby?" Mina asked in that sing-songy voice of hers, all playful like usual.

Again with that nickname. It's like nails on a chalkboard, and yet somehow it works for her.

"...I'm sorry to bother you," Todoroki said slowly, carefully, like each word was breakable. "But I feel like you could help me with something. I... I've been dealing with something confusing."

Problem?

Todoroki had a problem? Since when? How did I not know about this?

I thought we were solid. I thought if something was going on, he'd come to me first. Was it Midoriya? Maybe something happened between them? Or maybe—crap—is he not over him?

"What kind of problem?" Mina asked, dropping the teasing tone.

There was a silence that followed. Not an awkward one. A heavy one. The kind that makes your stomach twist because you know whatever comes next is real. Serious. Maybe even heartbreaking.

Suddenly, I felt really guilty for eavesdropping.

I thought this would be some goofy drama—maybe gossip or a weird dream he had about dorm life again. But no. Roki was actually trusting Mina with something important, something personal, and here I was, practically inhaling the floor dust under her bed while listening in like some desperate soap-opera extra.

He didn't come to me.

That stung more than I wanted to admit.

I shifted, ready to crawl out and face the music—to let them know I was here and stop this ridiculous hiding act—but then he spoke again, and I froze.

"Well... I've been feeling very odd lately," he said, quieter now, like he wasn't sure he even wanted to hear it out loud. "And... I explained this to Sero."

My whole body locked up.

Me? He did come to me?

"Such as?" Mina prodded.

Oh no.

Here it comes.

"My face would heat up really bad," he admitted, voice shy and unsure. "Um, my chest would start pounding like crazy, and my stomach would sort of... I guess turn upside down in a way? I don't know what to call it."

"Would you say it feels like your stomach is fluttering in a way?" Mina asked gently.

Then I heard a tiny gasp, like the sound of realization clicking into place. "Yes! Fluttering!"

Cute. He's so—

Wait.

Fluttering?

His stomach fluttered? That means—

Holy shit.

I didn't even notice I was holding my breath until Mina shifted off the bed and air filled my lungs again. Sweet freedom. But that wasn't the important part.

He was describing me. He was literally talking about me.

"Oh really~" Mina cooed.

"Yeah," he said. No hesitation.

Oh my god, he's adorable.

"So tell me," she pressed, voice laced with that mischievous tone of hers. "Does this happen whenever you're with someone in particular~?"

Good move, Mina. You always know how to slide it in. Subtle like a sledgehammer, but effective.

"Well... I used to feel these feelings with Midoriya," he said softly.

...

Damn.

...

Double damn.

...

Triple damn with a side of why did I get my hopes up?

Why did my dumbass brain immediately think it was about me? Why did I do this to myself? Of course it was Midoriya. Who wouldn't fall for him? He's smart, powerful, nice, and somehow gets through life with that dorky little smile and still looks like a cinnamon roll dipped in sunshine.

Roki wants someone strong. Someone worthy. Someone like him.

Not me.

"But recently," he continued, "those same feelings have come back. But this time, it was... very severe. Whenever I'm with Hanta, I get those strong and funny feelings."

Wait.

WHAT?!

Ok, ok, game not over. Back in play, baby.

"Tell me more," Mina said, sounding far too smug and invested.

Yes. Tell her more, tell her everything, mi amor.

"Well, whenever Hanta teaches me Spanish, he does this thing... where he smiles at me whenever I say something correctly," he said. "And that... that gets my stomach feeling weird."

My smile does that to him? I'm gonna have to start charging for it.

"Really?" Mina said, almost in awe.

"Uh-huh. And one time when we were reading together, my face felt like it was on fire. I had to run to the bathroom. I didn't feel sick or anything, but it felt like I was burning up from the inside."

He remembers that?

I thought he just had to pee or something. But he felt like that... because of me?

"Okay okay," Mina said, focused now. "So what do you need my help with?"

Please say: "I want to tell him I like him but I'm scared."

Please say that.

"Well... Sero said that I'm allergic to him," Roki replied.

...Come again?

"He said this was going away. But that was two weeks ago and the feelings are still there. Actually... I think they've gotten stronger."

...Shit. I did say that, didn't I?

I was panicking, okay?! The guy I've been crushing on for months tells me he has "intense physical reactions" to me and his first instinct was 'yup, allergies.'

And I said...it was my Seroness...

Nice going, dumbass.

"Sero said that?" Mina asked, and even she sounded like she was trying not to facepalm.

"Yes. But something that happened today made me realize something."

What did I do today?

Oh—right. The confession. Or the attempted confession before Bakugou went feral.

"He was going to tell me something important," Todoroki said, "but Bakugou interrupted and chased him off."

That pissed him off?

"And?" Mina asked gently.

"I realized that... I didn't want to stop having these feelings."

...

Wait.

Did he just say—

...

...

OH!?

"Oh!" Mina gasped. She was practically vibrating. "Ohhhhhhh!!!"

Same, Mina. Same. Internal fireworks. Brain melting. Vision swimming. Heart doing cartwheels.

"Y-Yeah," Todoroki continued, "and... I know Sero said it's because I'm allergic to him, but I thought being allergic to something was supposed to be... unpleasant? Like, itchy? Sneezy? But this... doesn't feel that way. When he smiles at me, or when he's just near me, my stomach gets all fuzzy. And I... I like it."

...

OH MY ACTUAL GOD.

Did—did he just say he likes feeling like that?

He likes me?

ROKI LIKES ME?!

If I wasn't jammed under a bed like a criminal in a heist movie, I would've levitated on pure gay joy.

Mina, bless her dramatic little heart, gasped like she was about to propose to him herself. "Todoroki... you know what this means, right?"

Oh no.

Don't scare him off.

"That I'll be forever allergic to Hanta?"

OH MY GOD THIS MAN.

He's so cute I could scream. Like. Actual. Screaming.

I heard Mina giggle—no, cackle—and then there was movement. The kind of erratic bounce you can only associate with Mina Ashido losing her mind from excitement.

They flopped on the bed. The bed I was under. I bit back a scream as my ribs compressed like a soda can. I could hear my spine whispering threats.

I might be in pain, but emotionally? I'm soaring.

"Okay, Shoto baby," Mina cooed, clearly holding back the urge to scream in his face. "I hope what I'm going to say doesn't change how you feel about Sero, okay?"

MINA. You can't start a sentence like that! That's how people start murder documentaries!

"What do you mean?" Todoroki asked, voice hesitant but curious.

"Okay, um. Hun. The reason you're feeling like this is because... okay, this is hard... let's try a different approach!"

Oh god. She's floundering.

"Now Todoroki, before we get into the answer, can I ask you something?"

"...Yes."

Mina inhaled. I swear I could hear her smirk.

"Why do you like Sero so much?"

Ohohohoho.
Mina, you clever genius.

"Um..." Roki began slowly, like he was sorting the words in real time. "There's a lot to like about Hanta. He's patient. He's very kind to me, even when I don't really deserve it. He's funny. His presence is... comforting."

My heart was screaming.

"And his smiles," Roki continued, "they're... warm. It's like, when he smiles at you, you believe you're going to be okay. Like the day is going to be better just because of him."

...

I'm going to die under this bed.

Death by emotions. Crushed by joy. This is how I go.

"And he really cares for people. You can see it. And he doesn't just want to be a hero—he wants to be a good one. I think he will be. A great one."

Mina gasped.

I levitated.

But Roki kept going.

"And his Spanish..." Todoroki said, a dreamy edge slipping into his tone. "It's beautiful. But more than that, when he speaks it, it's like the words dance. Like they mean more. It moves me in a way I can't really explain."

Oh my freaking God.

This man is poetic about me.

If I didn't already love him, I'd fall for him right now.

"Awww~ you're smiling~" Mina squealed, and I could picture her hands clapping like an overexcited seal. "And you're blushing~!"

Okay yeah, that was cute.

Todoroki didn't even deny it. He just muttered something under his breath, voice low and shy.

"I-I guess... and those feelings are happening again, too. So, is my allergy to Sero... this bad?"

ROKI PLEASE.

"No, honey," Mina said at last, her voice a perfect blend of thrilled, giddy, and just a touch exasperated. "You're not allergic to Sero."

She paused, letting the moment land like a meteor.

"You like him."

Silence.

A pause so heavy, I could hear the air thicken above me. My heart was beating in my throat like a war drum. I stared up at the undercarriage of Mina's bedframe, frozen solid.

Todoroki blinked. "Of course I like him. He's a very close friend to me."

NO.

Oh my God, Roki, please.

He's so adorably, painfully, catastrophically dense. I swear, it's endearing and devastating at the same time. I'm on the emotional equivalent of a loop-de-loop rollercoaster, and I haven't even moved an inch. Just under this bed, sweating, spiraling, and maybe suffocating from a combination of dust and feelings.

Mina powered through, because she is a soldier in the name of love.

"No, sweetie, not like that," she said with the patience of a saint babysitting two emotionally repressed turtles. "I mean... do you want to spend more time with Sero?"

Todoroki went quiet, and that silence felt loaded.

Then softly, almost shyly, he said, "Well... I do wish to spend time with him. And... I do see him in my future."

My whole body tensed.

Wait—what?

He sees me in his future?

I think I just died and was reborn under this goddamn bed.

"Okay okay," Mina giggled, a wicked grin creeping into her voice. "Better question: do you think he's hot?"

MINA.

We agreed to ease him into this, not catapult him straight into the realization!

"Hot?" Todoroki repeated, all innocent confusion, like she'd asked him if I was a stovetop setting.

"You know," she said, dragging out every syllable like it was dipped in glitter and pink frosting, "do you find him attractive~?"

I could feel the smirk on her face from beneath the bed.

"W-Well—" he stammered, voice cracking just slightly.

"And do you picture yourself going on cute little dates with him~?" she added, absolutely relentless.

YES.
YES HE DOES.
AND I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE.

Handmade picnics. Sunrise walks. Lazy movie nights where I make him laugh until his cheeks hurt. Spanish playlists curated just for him. I've been planning this, girl!

"...I do think he's attractive," Todoroki finally said, voice so soft it melted in the air.

AND I ASCENDED.

There's no other word for it. I felt my soul leave my body and do a triple backflip in the clouds. I might have gasped, I don't know. Something definitely escaped me—a squeak, a yelp, a sound of pure panic and disbelief.

Shit.

I slapped my hand over my mouth so fast I smacked myself in the nose. Pain. Panic. Adrenaline. I prayed—begged—the universe that Todoroki hadn't heard me.

"What was—" he started to ask, confused.

"ANYWAY!" Mina practically screamed. "THAT IS SO CUTE! You gotta ask him out!"

Mina, MVP. Perfect distraction. I owe her my life. Again.

"W-What?" Todoroki stammered.

Abort. Abort mission. He's glitching.

"Shoto, honey," Mina said carefully, "these feelings? They're not allergies. They're attraction. You've got a—dare I say it—crush on him."

And bam, there it is.

Confetti. Alarms. Emotional nuclear detonation.

"I-I do?" he whispered, like she just told him he was the chosen one in a romantic prophecy.

"Yasssss!" she squealed. "You literally said he's hot, you want to spend more time with him, and that you see him in your future. Come on! I could totally see you two being romantic and cute together. Sero's the romantic type, you know! He'd make those dates perfect. And honestly? You guys would look so good together."

Then—nothing.

Total silence.

Not even a bed creak.

I froze.

Oh no.
No no no.
Todoroki silence is not good silence.

That's the kind of silence before he detaches from everything and disappears emotionally for three days.

"...Todoroki?" Mina's voice softened with concern.

And then—he spoke.

"U-Um, I... I gotta go d-do something."

Wait—what?!

I heard the bed shift, and suddenly he was up. Footsteps. Door opening. Then—

He ran.

He RAN.

Mina called after him, standing now, stunned. But me?

I didn't move. I couldn't. I just lay there, hidden in shadows and heartbreak, staring blankly at the slats above me.

So... that's it, huh?

Even though he didn't know I was under the bed, it still felt like rejection. Like somehow, just the idea of me was enough to make him run.

I should've known. I should've expected this.

He just got out of a relationship with Midoriya. Of course he wouldn't want something new. Especially not with me.

I mean... why would he?

I'm not the smartest, the strongest, or the flashiest. I don't glow. I don't burn. I don't pull galaxies into orbit like he does. I'm just Hanta.

I'm just...
A nobody.

Chapter 11: Party

Notes:

I'm back at school :(

Third Person POV :

" No exam party~"

" OH HELL YEAH," the entire dorm cheered out, except for the good- two-shoes squad.

It was official: no winter exams for Class 1-A. After months of blood, sweat, and combat training, their work studies, field reports, and team missions had impressed the faculty enough to skip the written exams entirely.

They were on cloud nine—and what better way to celebrate than throwing a full-on, slightly illegal party?

"Party time, losers!" Denki grinned, throwing an arm around Shinsou and Kirishima's shoulders, dragging them into the middle of the common area, where music was already blaring from the upgraded dorm speakers (courtesy of Mei's "minor improvements").

Word had spread fast, and the party was no longer just a 1-A affair. Several students from Class 1-B had shown up—despite Monoma's dramatic protests about "fraternizing with the enemy." Luckily, people like Kendo, Tetsutetsu, Shoda, Pony, and Honenuki couldn't care less about Monoma's drama and came anyway, bringing snacks and drinks like they were seasoned partygoers.

Even Shinsou, who usually ghosted these events, had been dragged out by Kaminari's relentless texting campaign. He stood off to the side now, sipping soda, mildly regretting his life choices, while Denki buzzed around like a party demon with ADHD.

Mei Hatsume, meanwhile, had crashed the scene uninvited (not that anyone could stop her), and was now pestering people about their "party tech." She was threatening to install glitter cannons. No one was safe.

Mr. Aizawa had, reluctantly, approved the event with exactly two rules:

1. Don't be stupid.

2. Wrap it up by 11:30.

That was reasonable, even to Iida—who was still policing everyone like a caffeine-charged hall monitor. But... not everything was being policed.

Over in one shadowed corner of the common room, an entirely different party was forming. A sub-party, if you will—quieter, more chill, slightly more illegal.

Kirishima, Bakugou, Denki, Shinso, Mina, Jirou, Sero, and Tetsutetsu were all camped out around a low table stacked with red cups, snacks, and a suspiciously labeled punch bowl. Tetsutetsu had smuggled in beer and weed. Hats off to him for stealth.

"Dude, this is lit," Denki slurred as he hiccuped and took a swig of beer.

Jirou raised an eyebrow. "I'm honestly shocked you pulled this off without getting caught."

Tetsutetsu grinned proudly. "What can I say? I got skills. And a friend in support class who owes me."

Kirishima burst out laughing, cheeks flushed from the heat of the room and the energy of the party. He slapped Tetsutetsu on the back, the sound echoing as the silver-haired teen offered him a red solo cup.

"Drink?"

Kirishima's crimson eyes lit up with mischief and temptation. He reached out instinctively—only to wince as a sharp pain jabbed into his ribs. He hissed and clutched his side, eyes narrowing as he turned to find the source of the sudden phantom injury.

Bakugou.

His boyfriend stood with arms crossed, glaring at him with that specific kind of intensity that promised pain if disrespected.

Kirishima pouted, rubbing his side dramatically. "What was that for?"

Bakugou rolled his eyes and looked away. "Nothing, you dumbass."

The redhead blinked. Oh. Right.

Katsuki Bakugou, king of explosions, was also king of being a damn goody-two-shoes.

He'd tolerate the party—but only because Kirishima begged and used the eyes. But alcohol? Weed? Anything beyond caffeine and controlled destruction? Not on his watch.

"Whatever," Kirishima muttered with a sigh and gave Tetsutetsu a sheepish wave-off. His sliver friend just shrugged, unconcerned, before knocking back his own drink like it was water.

Kirishima let his gaze wander, his smile faltering. Across the room, Sero sat back against the wall, blowing thick clouds of vapor from his vape. His legs were pulled up loosely, hood half up, and a shadow clung to his usually bright expression.

Kirishima frowned. Sero only vaped in public when he was too anxious to care—or too sad to bother hiding it.

"Sero?" he asked gently, stepping closer.

The tape hero didn't look up. He just exhaled a slow, thick cloud of mango-flavored smoke, the vapor curling into the air and drifting directly into Mina and Denki's faces.

"Dude!" Denki gagged, coughing. "Warn a guy!"

Sero offered a halfhearted shrug, barely acknowledging them.

"What's going on with you, man?" Kirishima asked, settling beside him. He gave Sero's knee a nudge, voice light but concerned. "You've been off all night."

"I'm fine," Sero said flatly.

Mina wasn't buying it. She plopped down on the other side of him with a huff. "Okay, so, long story short—when Sero was hiding from Bakugou in my room—don't ask—Todoroki walked in, and—"

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Bakugou exploded from across the room, practically lunging forward and pointing with a wild gleam in his eye.

Sero didn't flinch. He just took another drag, lips tight around the vape as if it was the only thing holding him together.

Mina continued, ignoring the outburst. "I asked Todoroki if he'd ever date Sero, and he just... ran. Like, bolted. No words, no expression. Just gone."

"Ouch," Tetsutetsu muttered, passing his vape to Jirou, who waved it off with a grimace.

Sero's hand tightened slightly around his own vape, though his expression didn't change. He didn't look mad. He didn't look surprised. Just... resigned.

"I'm sorry, man," Kirishima said softly.

Sero finally spoke, voice low. "Don't be. You've got nothing to be sorry for, Kiri."

He let out a breath that wasn't smoke, shaking his head. "I'm not heartbroken. I'm just... being realistic."

The conversation dropped into silence. Denki, who usually had something—anything—to say, stayed still.

"Really?" Jirou asked after a beat, cautiously.

Sero let out a short, dry laugh. "Yeah. I mean, think about it. Why the hell would Todoroki go for someone like me? I'm not a prodigy. I don't have some epic origin story or some hidden depth. I'm the background guy. I stick people to walls and crack jokes while the rest of you do the real work."

"No one thinks that," Denki said, frowning. "You're amazing—"

Sero cut him off with a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Sure. Amazing. But not enough, right? Not for him."

He stared down at the cup in his hands, turning it slowly, watching the liquid swirl.

"He said I was attractive once. That's it. That's all I was ever gonna get. And don't get me wrong—it was nice to hear. But being hot isn't the same as being worth loving. You can look good and still be forgettable."

"Sero..." Mina whispered, brows knitting.

He shook his head. "It's not about Todoroki. I'm not mad at him. I will never be mad at him. It's just... I think... I think he was just as surprised by his own feelings as I was. Maybe even scared. I don't blame him for that."

He glanced at them now, finally meeting their eyes. There was no fire in them. Just a tired sort of ache, like he'd had this conversation with himself a thousand times already and lost every time.

"I just wish I was the kind of person someone like him could love. But I'm not. And that's okay."

"Not okay," Bakugou growled, clearly unsatisfied. "He knew what he was doing. You don't say someone's attractive and then sprint the fuck out like you saw a ghost."

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what? I thought you didn't care about this?"

Bakugou groaned. "I don't. But if someone pulls this half-assed, confusing bullshit, it's a problem. You don't get to play with someone's head just because you're emotionally constipated."

"For once," Denki said, raising his cup, "Bakubro speaks truth."

Mina sighed, swirling the drink in her hand. "Look, I don't think Todoroki meant to hurt him. The guy was confused. I've never seen him look so panicked in my life."

"Exactly," Kirishima nodded. "He's not great with emotions. That doesn't make it okay, but it makes it make sense."

"Yeah, well... still doesn't change how I feel," Sero murmured. He tapped the edge of the vape on his knee, then sighed and stuffed it into his pocket. "It's not about what Todoroki did or didn't say. It's about the fact that, in the end, he didn't choose me. And deep down, I didn't expect him to."

He gave them a small, apologetic smile. "So yeah... it's whatever. I'll get over it. I just... need someone who actually sees me. Wants me. Not someone I have to chase or decode."

Another long pause. The air felt heavy.

Denki broke it first, looping an arm around Sero's shoulders. "You're worth way more than you think, man. You're loyal, funny as hell, and actually decent at parties. I'd date you."

"Please don't," Sero snorted, laughing despite himself.

"Too late. It's canon now," Denki grinned.

Kirishima reached over and squeezed Sero's wrist. "You're one of the best people I know. I mean that."

Sero nodded, silent but thankful.

Out on the balcony, Tetsutetsu sparked a joint and blew smoke rings into the night. Sero looked over, eyes tired but a bit more relaxed now.

"This party's wild," he muttered.

"You're all idiots," Bakugou said on his way out, clearly needing a break from the emotional group therapy session.

"Love you too, babe!" Kirishima called after him with a grin.

Mina raised her cup. "To dumb crushes, sad boys, and surviving another semester."

They all lifted their drinks—cups, cans, and one vape—together.

"To chaos," Jirou said.

And they clinked together like a broken, buzzing, beautiful little mess of a friend group. Not perfect. Not healed. But not alone.

Not tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The party raged on—laughter spilling out through open windows, music thudding like a heartbeat in the floorboards, half-empty cups abandoned on every surface. The Class 1-A dorms had never felt more alive.

Well—almost everyone was having fun.

Two people, specifically, weren't.

Sero was having the worst day of his life. And that wasn't even dramatic—just a fact. In the span of a single afternoon, he'd nearly been blown up by Bakugou, barely stopped himself from confessing his feelings to Todoroki, and now he was half-drunk, half-anxious, and fully spiraling as his classmates danced and shouted around him like the world wasn't falling apart.

Super.

Across the room, Todoroki sat in the corner, barely blinking as he stared into the juice swirling in his cup. It might as well have been alcohol for how quiet and unresponsive he was. His thoughts were loud enough to drown out the party.

Ever since Mina's casual question—"Wouldn't you and Sero make a cute couple?"—his brain had been looping like a broken record. At first, he'd paid no mind to the idea. But the words had burrowed in, and now?

Now he couldn't stop seeing him.

Sero, smiling at him from across a bench during training. Sero, laughing too hard at a movie. Sero, handing him water after sparring. Sero... holding his hand.

Except none of those moments had actually happened.

They were all imagined—daydreams that made his chest flutter and his breath catch in ways he didn't understand. He'd never felt this kind of nervousness before, not even with Midoriya. Or rather... not since Midoriya.

And that was the problem.

Every time he started to process what he might be feeling for Sero, Midoriya's face appeared in his mind. Their memories. Their breakup. The guilt that came after.

He remembered when people used to say he and Midoriya would make a "cute couple" too. And maybe they had. Until they weren't. Until it fell apart.

Until Todoroki realized he was terrible at emotional maintenance and intimacy terrified him.

And now... now he was afraid. What if Sero—kind, warm, too-good-for-him Sero—eventually left him, too? What if Todoroki opened his heart again only to feel it crumble all over again?

He had wanted to ask Sero for comfort, wanted his voice, his presence—but he hadn't been in his room. So instead, he'd done the next best thing.

He listened to Sero's playlist.

A soft collection of Spanish lullabies—gentle melodies Sero once said reminded him of home. Todoroki had never been comforted like that before, not even as a child. And yet, hearing those songs? It felt like a hand on his shoulder. A voice in the dark.

It wasn't Sero, but it helped. A little.

Still, the feelings remained. And the more time passed, the clearer it became: he needed to talk to Sero. He needed to do something. Say something.

He'd been searching the party all night, but somehow, the tape hero seemed to be actively avoiding him. Which hurts him more and more.

He sighed into his drink, fingers tapping absently against the plastic cup.

"Are you alright, Todoroki?"

He turned to see Tokoyami beside him, his dark silhouette almost blending into the shadows of the room. The two of them had retreated to the edge of the party together—both non-party people, both watching from the sidelines like ghosts in a place that thrived on noise.

Todoroki hesitated, then shook his head. "No."

Tokoyami arched a brow. "Is this about Midoriya?"

That name sent a flash of guilt through him, but Todoroki shook his head more firmly this time. "No. It's Sero."

Tokoyami tilted his head. "What about him?"

Todoroki let out a slow breath and leaned back against the wall. "He makes me feel... calm. Safe. I enjoy being around him more than anyone else lately. But the more I realize that, the more afraid I get. Because I don't want to ruin it. I don't want to push him away like..."

His voice faltered as he looked toward the center of the party.

There was Midoriya, laughing with Uraraka and Iida, his smile bright and warm and everything Todoroki used to adore.

But the sight no longer made his heart ache in the same way.

Because lately, there was another smile haunting him. A crooked grin with soft brown eyes and a raspy laugh. A smile that made his stomach twist in the best way.

"You must not let old memories stop you from making new ones," Tokoyami said quietly.

Todoroki blinked, gaze dropping to his hands. He thought about the warmth in Sero's touch when they'd brushed fingers earlier. The way he'd wanted it to last longer. How mad he'd been when Bakugou interrupted them—really mad, not just annoyed.

He wanted Sero.

That realization struck him like lightning.

Maybe Mina was right.

Maybe he didn't just enjoy Sero's company.

Maybe he wanted more.

The crowd suddenly erupted in cheers, snapping him from his thoughts.

"Ayo! Look at my boy Sero!" Denki shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Todoroki looked up, heart thudding—and there he was.

Sero was standing on the coffee table like it was his personal concert stage, his body alive with rhythm, a sleek black vape lazily hanging between his lips. The LED lights bathed him in flickers of pinks and purples, casting a halo around his figure as he moved, hips swaying to the beat with unapologetic confidence.

His voice was lost beneath the music, but his lips synced effortlessly to the song—Eres Mía, a familiar tune that Todoroki recognized instantly.

It was from his playlist.

The playlist.

The one Sero had given him for nights like this, when Todoroki's brain wouldn't shut off, when the weight on his chest felt like a boulder. It was supposed to be for quiet, for calm. But now—now the song filled the room, and Sero was dancing like he owned it. Like the music lived in his bones.

Todoroki's breath hitched in his throat.

Around them, the room roared in approval. Mina and Hagakure were cheering loudest, practically screaming their support. Kaminari was doubled over laughing, encouraging him to go harder, louder. Iida was frantically trying to restore order, shouting over the noise like a man on the edge of a breakdown. But none of it registered.

Because all Todoroki could see—all he could feel—was him.

Sero moved with the kind of natural swagger Todoroki could only dream of having. There was nothing forced about it—just easy, fluid motion. Like the music had asked him to dance, and he simply obeyed. Even the damn vape looked good on him, bobbing between his lips as his grin spread wider and his curls bounced with every step.

He looked like freedom.

And Todoroki, frozen by the wall, couldn't look away.

The rest of the party dissolved into static. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow's voices next to him were muffled, background noise compared to the deafening beat of his own pulse in his ears. It was embarrassing, how fast his heart was racing.

But he wasn't thinking about embarrassment.
He wasn't thinking about Midoriya.
He wasn't thinking about what could go wrong.

He was thinking about Sero.

Just Sero.

And how the thought of him had quietly started consuming every corner of his mind.

'Hanta...' The name echoed in his thoughts like a prayer. Like a secret he hadn't meant to say out loud.

Then—

"GET DOWN FROM THERE!"

Iida's voice cut through the tension like a knife, and Sero flinched in surprise before hopping off the table with an exaggerated pout. "My bad, Iida," he said, though the smirk on his face said he wasn't sorry at all.

Laughter rippled through the room. The mood was light again.

But then—that laugh.

Sero's.

Warm, rich, familiar.

And just like that, Todoroki's stomach flipped.

He didn't even realize he was staring until Sero turned—and their eyes met across the room.

It was only a second. But that second stretched into eternity.

Todoroki's breath caught. His fingers tightened around the cup in his hands. His whole body buzzed like it was short-circuiting under the weight of those chocolate-brown eyes. There was something knowing in them. Something gentle.

Something Todoroki wasn't ready for.

And then, just as suddenly, Sero looked away.

He disappeared into the crowd with ease, like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just reached into Todoroki's chest and squeezed.

A small, disappointed frown tugged at Todoroki's lips. He hated how quickly he missed him.

"Wow."

The word pulled him from his daze. He turned to see Tokoyami eyeing him, unimpressed. Dark Shadow, however, was cackling softly.

"What?" Todoroki asked, stiffly.

Tokoyami raised a brow. "I think you already know what you want."

Todoroki blinked, staring back at the crowd. Sero's smile still danced in his mind like an afterimage. A spark he couldn't shake.

'Maybe I do.'

Maybe he was done holding back. Maybe he was done letting fear rule him.

Midoriya was the past. That chapter was closed. And Sero... Sero was something new. Something real. Someone who looked at him like he wasn't broken glass—like he was just Shoto.

He nodded, more to himself than anyone else, and turned to Tokoyami. "Thank you. I really mean that."

Tokoyami gave a small bow. "Of course. I just want to see you happy, my friend."

"Now go get your man!" Dark Shadow teased with a grin in his voice.

Todoroki let out the smallest laugh—soft, but real.

Then he paused.

His smile faltered, and Tokoyami noticed instantly.

"What is it now?"

"I can't find him," Todoroki muttered. "I've been looking all night. I need to talk to him."

Tokoyami sighed, but before he could say anything, Dark Shadow straightened up like a dog catching a scent. He stared out over the crowd, glowing eyes narrowing as he scanned the dim corners of the room.

"There," he said with a whisper. "Next to the back doors."

Todoroki followed his gaze. The lights were low, but sure enough—he saw the telltale curl of smoke rising from the corner. Sero. Sitting on the edge of a chair, half in shadow, vape in hand. Face unreadable.

"Really?" Todoroki asked, squinting.

"Yup," Dark Shadow said. "But fair warning: if anyone offers you a drink over there, don't take it."

Todoroki opened his mouth to ask but Tokoyami shook his head with a sigh. "Please don't ask."

Todoroki nodded, jaw tight with resolve. "Thank you."

He didn't wait for a reply.

Without hesitation, he pushed off the wall, weaving through the crowd, each step gaining more purpose. Conversations blurred into ambient noise. The bass of the music pulsed through the floor, but in Todoroki's chest, there was a louder beat pounding—a rhythm that had nothing to do with the party and everything to do with what he was finally ready to face.

This wasn't about clarity anymore.

This wasn't even about answers.

This was about him.

About the way Sero made him laugh without even trying.

About the silly playlist he secretly kept replaying.

About the way Sero's presence grounded him when his thoughts began to spiral.

It was about the comfort.

The warmth.

The safe feeling of being seen without needing to explain.

It was about Hanta Sero—and whatever this thing was blooming quietly between them.

And Todoroki was done running from it.

He slipped past a few of his classmates, murmuring polite "Excuse me"s as he nudged through clusters of people. Someone bumped into him with a soda, someone else offered him a drink—he ignored both.

His focus didn't waver.

His eyes scanned the crowd until he finally reached the corner his friend had mentioned earlier.

The scent hit him first—sharp, earthy, unfamiliar.

He sneezed on instinct, lifting a hand to his face. Around him, laughter rang out. Mina was doubled over beside Jirou, who looked very much out of it, slouched and pink-cheeked. Kirishima was chatting with Tetsutetsu while trying to keep a vaguely annoyed Bakugou in place by the shoulders.

Todoroki barely registered the music thumping through the walls, the chatter around him, or the colored lights dancing over the furniture. His breath caught when his eyes landed on Sero.

There he was—perched cross-legged on the floor like it was the most natural thing in the world, a half-lazy smile on his face as he chatted with Shinso. Denki, barely awake, lay curled against Shinso's side like a sleepy cat. Sero exhaled a thin stream of smoke, coughing lightly into the crook of his arm, completely unaware of the chaos he'd just sparked inside Todoroki.

Todoroki's chest seized.

Something primal jolted awake in him, the way it always did when panic hit too fast to stop. His first instinct was to summon ice, the familiar chill already licking at his fingertips—but no, that wouldn't help. Ice couldn't fix this.

His eyes darted around the room, scanning for... something. Something to do. Something to save the other.

And then he saw it.

Kirishima's red solo cup, still half-full, perched casually in his hand as he laughed at something Tetsutetsu had said.

Todoroki didn't think.

He just moved.

In a blur, he snatched the cup.

"Hey—!" Kirishima barked, startled.

But it was already too late.

Todoroki turned on his heel, hand steady, and with terrifying precision—flung the contents straight at Sero.

It all happened in a blink.

Gasps erupted. A chair scraped loudly against the floor. Someone shouted a curse.

The liquid hit Sero square in the chest.

He jolted as the cold beer splashed across his shirt and face. A second cough tore from his throat, this one from shock more than anything. The fabric clung to his body in awkward, soaked folds. Droplets of beer dripped down his jaw and clung to the ends of his hair, and his vape skittered across the hardwood floor.

"What the hell?!" he barked, blinking through the droplets, wide-eyed and utterly blindsided.

Todoroki froze, still holding the now-empty cup, his knuckles white around the rim. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He didn't even seem to hear the confusion swelling around him.

He just did something really bad.

The room dropped into a tense, uneasy silence.

Tetsutetsu sat up straighter, eyes wide. "Dude... what the fuck are you doing?"

"I—" Todoroki tried, but the words caught in his throat like barbed wire.

"My good shirt..." Sero muttered, voice strained with disbelief as he pulled the fabric away from his sticky skin. "Bro, come on..."

Bakugou let out a low, irritated grunt—something between "idiot" and a snarl—as Kirishima stepped in, his easy smile now gone.

"Dude, seriously... what was that?" he asked, eyes filled with confusion, bordering on concern.

Todoroki opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. He was locked in place, mind reeling. His eyes flickered to Sero's stunned expression, and then down to the puddle forming on the floor between them.

"I just... thought—"

And then came the sound of authoritative footsteps cutting through the silence like a blade.

Iida.

Arms pumping with determined rhythm, eyes blazing with moral outrage.

"What is the meaning of this disturbance?!" he boomed, his voice echoing across the room like a megaphone.

Jirou practically spit her drink back into her cup when Momo arrived beside Iida. Tetsutetsu and the rest of the group, minus an unbothered Bakugou, scrambled to hide their drinks and other less-than-legal items.

Denki stirred in Shinso's side, murmuring, "Whuh... what'd I miss...?"

"Too much," Shinso muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Far too much."

"Hi guys~ party's great!" Sero said with a forced grin, trying to deflect attention, casually reaching behind his back to hide his vape.

"It smells foul in here," Iida declared, chopping the air dramatically. "And someone is clearly under the influence of something!"

Momo sniffed the air and immediately gagged. Her gaze whipped to Jirou.

Jirou winced. "Hey, Momo~... it's just, uh, herbal remedies."

The vice president looked like she aged five years on the spot.

All around the room, students were scrambling—hiding drinks, stuffing things into bags, trying to look innocent. Mineta leaned forward, cackling.

"Oh snap, someone's getting expelled."

He was immediately smacked upside the head by Mina, who hissed, "Shut up!"

"I said—what is going on?!" Iida barked again.

"I'll tell you what's going on," Kendo grumbled, grabbing a still-dazed Tetsutetsu by the collar. "This idiot is going to get us all in trouble."

"Oh c'mon—"

"Shut it."

As voices grew louder and the room dissolved into petty arguments and half-hearted apologies, Todoroki stood motionless. Every sound faded. His world narrowed to one thing—Sero.

Sero, who now wouldn't even look at him.

His head was tilted slightly, brows furrowed—not with anger, not exactly, but with confusion. Hurt. Disappointment.

It was that last one that hit hardest.

Todoroki's throat burned.

'I messed up... again.'

It broke something in Todoroki.

He barely felt the heat of shame rising in his chest. Barely noticed Kirishima calling his name. He saw only that look—why did you do this to me?

It echoed in his head louder than Iida's voice. Louder than the music that resumed once someone sheepishly turned the volume back up. Louder than anything else in the world.

And then he turned.

He didn't say a word. Didn't try to explain. He just walked away—fast, stiff, like if he stayed any longer he'd shatter into pieces.

He didn't look back.

Not when the music started again. Not when someone laughed to cut the tension. Not even when someone called his name.

He stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut around him, and pressed the button with fingers that trembled despite the ice running through his veins.

Behind him, Sero stared at the empty space he left behind.

Wet curls clinging to his face. Shirt dripping. Vape still in his pocket. The sting of cold beer on his chest already forgotten beneath the strange ache curling in his gut.

He exhaled slowly.

"...Goddamn."

"I don't care who brought it, just get rid of it!" Hagakure yelled across the room.

"Yeah!" Uraraka and Tsuyu chimed in.

Tetsutetsu muttered under his breath as he gathered beer cans into a plastic bag. Jirou tried to sneak another sip of her drink, but Momo snatched it from her with a glare.

"Kyoka?!"

"It's mostly juice," Jirou grumbled, cheeks pink.

Mina giggled. "Oooh, someone's in trouble~"

"Go choke on a glowstick," Jirou muttered, face burning.

"Rude," Mina replied, grinning.

Kirishima raised his hands to the other students in apology. "Sorry, guys! We'll clean it up. Go enjoy the rest of the night."

There were a few groans, some snide comments, but the crowd slowly dispersed. Denki climbed onto the couch with a wild grin.

"Alright! Let's fucking party!"

"Kaminari, language—!"

Iida's reprimand was instantly drowned out by a fresh blast of bass and cheers as Mineta triumphantly restarted the playlist, cranking the volume to borderline-illegal levels. The walls practically pulsed with sound, and like flipping a switch, the room snapped back into party mode.

It was a Thursday.

They had class in the morning.

Nobody gave a damn.

Denki bounced off the couch, full of chaotic energy, weaving through the recovering crowd. He passed by Jirou, who was being towed toward the kitchen by a still visibly fuming Momo. He chuckled as Jirou offered a helpless shrug.

"Let's hit my dorm and get properly wrecked," he whispered to Shinso with a lopsided grin.

Shinso gave him a long, tired look. "You mean more wrecked?"

Denki winked. "Obviously."

Kirishima hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "I dunno, guys... everyone's kinda on edge after that whole Todoroki thing."

"C'mon, man," Tetsutetsu said, slinging an arm around him. "When's the last time we had a night this wild?"

Kirishima sighed. "Literally never."

"Exactly. Let's keep it rolling. I got the good stuff stocked."

"I dunno," Mina interjected. "We just got off probation from that club incident."

"It was an awesome club!" Kaminari said defensively.

"We'll be careful this time," he added quickly, flashing puppy-dog eyes. "And hey, if we go somewhere else, no more drama. No one gets blamed. Win-win!"

Mina groaned but smiled. "Fine. Just don't light anything on fire."

"You coming, Katsuki?" Kirishima asked hopefully.

Bakugou didn't even look back. "As if I'm hanging out with you pothead losers. I'm going the fuck to bed."

He stomped toward the elevators with a scowl. Kirishima made a move to follow him, but Tetsutetsu gently held him back.

"Let him go, bro."

"But he's my boyfriend..."

"A boyfriend who literally just called you a 'pothead loser' and peaced out."

Kirishima sighed, rubbing his temple. "Yeah..."

Meanwhile, Sero stood a few feet away, unmoving. His eyes were glassy and distant, like his brain hadn't quite returned to the room.

Kirishima nudged him gently. "Yo, Sero?"

The tape hero blinked slowly. "Huh?"

"Dude, are you that buzzed?" Shinso asked, arching a brow.

Sero shook his head, but it was sluggish. "No, I'm just... hella confused."

"I would be too," Mina said, still processing. "Like... Todoroki threw a drink on you."

Sero didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the hall Todoroki had disappeared into, chest tight with a feeling that was rapidly moving past confusion into something heavier.

"Technically, it was my drink," Kirishima said, raising a hand sheepishly.

Sero slowly turned to glare at him. Kirishima laughed nervously. "My bad."

"Whatever it was," Denki cut in, flopping dramatically onto a beanbag, "it got our asses busted. If Iida reports this to Aizawa, we're all toast. We wouldn't even be sneaking out if Mr. Icy Nerves wasn't acting like a whole-ass maniac."

Shinso snorted. "Damn, Sparky, that's the most cutthroat I've heard you all month. It's kinda hot."

Kaminari immediately flushed. "Shut up," he mumbled, looking away.

Mina giggled and leaned into the teasing. "Oooh, someone's blushing~"

Kirishima and Tetsutetsu joined in with exaggerated oooohs. Kaminari told them to shut up again, but his grin betrayed him.

Sero, meanwhile, exhaled and shook his head.

"Y'all go ahead. I need to change out of this," he said, plucking at his soaked shirt in disgust.

"You know where my room is, right?" Tetsutetsu asked.

"Uh... not really," Sero laughed awkwardly.

"I got you, dude," Kirishima offered. "Let's go before it gets late."

Mina bounced onto Kirishima's back without warning, nearly knocking the poor guy over. "Relax, it's only 9:40! Party's not ending until at least eleven. We've got time~"

The group cheered and started heading out, recharged with laughter and reckless optimism. Sero chuckled and waved them off, watching them disappear down the hall before glancing down at himself again. His smile faltered.

The beer was already drying, sticky and cold against his skin. He sighed and made his way toward the elevator.

Inside, he leaned his head back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut.

'What the hell is going on?'

The question spun around and around in his head like a bad song on repeat. Getting rejected by his crush was one thing. But having a drink thrown at him? What was that?

He hadn't even done anything. He'd avoided Todoroki all night. Escaped from Mina's room before he could notice him. Kept his distance.

So why?

"Maybe someone told him I was in her room or something," he muttered under his breath.

The elevator chimed. He stepped out onto his floor and trudged down the hall—only to pause.

Bakugou was already out in pajamas.

Sero blinked.

"...How did you change that fast?"

Bakugou turned slowly, eyes narrowed.

"...The fuck you say, Tape Face?"

Sero held up his hands. "Just surprised, man. What are you doing out here?"

"Just shut the hell up and listen," Bakugou snapped, storming toward him.

"Okay?" Sero muttered, standing still.

"Two things," Bakugou said, stopping right in front of him. "One—are you going to that silver idiot's room?"

Sero blinked. 'Silver idiot?'

Then it clicked. "You mean... Tetsutetsu?"

Bakugou glared.

"Y-Yeah," Sero said quickly.

"Good. Make sure Shitty Hair doesn't do anything stupid or take anything stupider, got it?"

"...Why—"

Bakugou grabbed him by the collar. "Because if he does, and it's your fault, I'm coming for your bones, Tape Roll. All of them."

Sero paled. "Y-Yes! Okay! I got it!"

Bakugou dropped him with a grunt. Sero gasped and stumbled back.

But Bakugou wasn't done. He took one step forward again, voice low and dangerous.

"And one more thing. If he gets in any trouble for covering your dumbasses, I swear to All Might, I'll grind your skeleton into fine powder and salt the earth with it. You hear me?"

Sero couldn't even speak. He just nodded—quick, panicked, and shaky.

Bakugou finally backed off, tsking under his breath.

Sero collapsed back against his door, letting out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Goddamn..."

Then—

"Hey, Tape Face!"

Sero flinched.

Bakugou was already walking away, waving him off over his shoulder.

"Tell Icy-Hot to stop freezing his goddamn room! It's annoying!"

Sero blinked, stunned. Then looked toward Todoroki's door.

He noticed it almost immediately.

A thin layer of frost was spreading beneath the door.

His stomach dropped.

He rushed over and started knocking. "Roki? Roki!"

No answer.

The wood under his knuckles was frigid. He hissed and pulled his hand back. Ice was creeping from the cracks under the door, tendrils crawling toward his shoes.

"What the..."

He crouched down to get a closer look.

The ice wasn't just decorative. It was thick. Growing.

It was spreading.

And from inside?

Not a sound.

Sero's heart climbed into his throat.

"...Todoroki?"

He stood up fast and knocked again, harder. "Hey—open up! Are you okay?!"

Still nothing.

The ice crept faster.

And with it came a gut-deep feeling that something—someone—wasn't okay at all.

The air shifted.

Sero paused mid-step, frozen halfway down the hallway. A strange chill crawled over his skin, not from the temperature, but from instinct—the kind that made his quirk kick in before his brain caught up during combat training.

It wasn't just that Todoroki had ran off. It was the way he looked. Confused, sad... hurt.

Like he'd been kicked over and over.

Something was definitely wrong.

Sero didn't hesitate.

He hurried to Todoroki's dorm room and knocked—once, twice, then started banging with the side of his fist.

"Roki—hey, come on man. I need to talk to you," he called, the urgency in his voice louder than he intended.

No answer.

He leaned in to press his ear to the door—only to recoil instantly.

The wooden surface was freezing.

"Shit," Sero hissed, stepping back like it had burned him. He ran a hand through his hair, heart hammering, breath puffing in the air. Ice meant he was shielding himself, walling off. Not physically—emotionally.

Panic crept in.

"Roki, listen... I'm sorry. For real this time." Sero's voice came out quieter than he meant, a low rasp edged with guilt. "The way I reacted... I don't know, man. I freaked out. I was shocked. Confused. You hit me with a beer to the face, and—damn, that's a move I'm never forgetting."

He tried to chuckle, tried to ease the weight in the air. It came out hollow.

But the silence that followed was heavier than the chill seeping through the door. Dense. Final.

He leaned back with a sigh, the back of his head hitting the wall beside Todoroki's dorm room. Then he slid down until he was sitting on the floor, knees bent, arms draped loosely over them.

"I was an asshole," he admitted softly. "I avoided you. I didn't talk. I acted like you didn't matter, and that was wrong. You do matter. You always did. And I should've told you that instead of acting like some emotionally constipated jackass."

Still no response.

He stood again, restless now. Pacing. Then, after a long moment of stillness, he turned back toward the door and leaned his forehead—no, his cheek—against the cool metal. It bit at his skin like ice, but it kept him grounded. Real.

"I'm just gonna say it," he whispered. "I think you're fucking incredible. Like—beyond. You're disciplined. You're brilliant. You've survived more shit than anyone should have to, and somehow you're still standing. Still trying. Still kind."

His eyes squeezed shut, the words fighting their way out of his chest.

"And I look at you and wonder how the hell someone like you ever let someone like me get this close."

He exhaled shakily, his voice unsteady now. "I feel like I'm never enough when I'm around you. You're top of the class, a legacy, a powerhouse—and I'm just the guy people remember for stupid jokes and tape. Half the teachers think my quirk's a glorified arts-and-crafts project. I vape too much, I'm trash at calculus, and I laugh at my own puns."

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. "I can tape a villain to a wall but couldn't stick to a real conversation with you without blowing it."

His voice cracked.

"But I was gonna say something before Bakugo stormed in like an angry anime boss fight. I was gonna tell you that these past few weeks—being around you—it's the best I've felt in a long damn time. You make me want to be better. Not because I think I have to. But because I want to. For you."

A beat passed. Then another.

"Tu voz es tan suave y tersa como las olas del mar," he said suddenly, the words like a soft prayer.

(Your voice is as soft and smooth as the waves in the ocean.)

It sounded ridiculous in the quiet hallway. Too poetic. Too raw.

But he meant it.

"I like you, Roki. I really like you. Like, I-think-about-you-constantly, forget-what-I'm-doing-when-you-smile kind of like. Like I'm-screwed-if-you-ever-look-at-me-like-I'm-more-than-just-some-guy kind of like."

He ran a hand through his hair, nerves fraying fast.

"I've liked you since the day you froze me to the wall during the Sports Festival and then apologized twenty-seven times in a perfectly flat tone while brushing frost off my shirt."

He let out a short breath, shaky but real.

"I like your calm. I like your awkward silences. I like how you tilt your head when you don't understand something, and how your eyes soften when you're trying to. I like that you remember things I didn't even know I said. I like the way you listen—not just with your ears, but with your whole damn soul. And I like you, Shoto Todoroki."

He exhaled hard, like the words were ripped out of his ribs.

"And if I ruined this... if I made everything worse—then I'm sorry. But I couldn't keep this in anymore."

He took a step back from the door, hands trembling, heart pounding in his ears. Guilt and adrenaline slammed together inside him like crashing waves.

'Holy shit, I said it. I actually said it—out loud—like a total dumbass—in the middle of the hallway where anyone could've heard—'

Then—

Drip.

Sero paused. Frowned. He looked down.

A thin stream of water was snaking out from under the door, pooling quietly at his feet.

"...What the hell?"

Before he could react, the door creaked open with a soft hiss. Frost cracked and peeled away along the edges, curling like breath on glass.

Red and white hair appeared first. Then eyes—one cool gray, the other soft turquoise, wide and glassy.

Todoroki stepped forward slowly, like the air around him was fragile and too easily shattered. His face was unreadable, but his hands were trembling at his sides.

His voice came quiet. Raw. "Do you really mean it?"

Sero froze.

Then nodded. "Every word, Roki."

The silence that followed was charged—no longer empty, but full. Like static waiting for a spark. They stared at each other, still and unmoving, and the hallway faded into nothing but quiet and breath and the closeness between them.

Then, without warning, Todoroki stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sero.

Sero staggered back, catching him as their bodies collided. He felt the tremble in Todoroki's arms, the way his fingers clutched at Sero's back like he was trying not to drown.

"Roki?" Sero murmured, hand gently running through the other's hair.

"I-I just don't want to be alone anymore," Todoroki confessed, voice muffled against his chest.

Sero's chest tightened.

"Oh, Roki..."

He held him tighter, resting his chin on Todoroki's shoulder as the younger hero broke apart in his arms. He could feel it—the collapse, the exhaustion, the raw, unspoken grief Todoroki had carried for far too long.

Memories and pain poured out in the silence—of his childhood, of Endeavor, of everything he was expected to be. Of being used. Left. Compared.

And now... he was finally letting someone hold him through it.

"Hey," Sero said softly, pulling back enough to look into his eyes. "You won't be alone. Not if I can help it."

Todoroki hiccuped through a sob. "How do I know you mean that?"

Sero's hand found his cheek, gently wiping away a tear. "Because I'm Hanta Sero. And I don't make promises I won't keep."

He gently cupped Todoroki's face, his thumb softly brushing away the tears trailing down the younger's cheeks. The cold from the door still lingered in his fingers, but it was nothing compared to the warmth flooding his chest.

Todoroki sniffed quietly, eyes glassy, and for a brief moment, Sero gave him the smile he had grown to miss—the kind of smile that spoke louder than words, the one that said I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

"Roki," Sero whispered, voice low and steady, "you'll never have to worry about me leaving because, siempre estaré pegado a ti hasta el final de los tiempos y me aseguraré de que siga siendo así."

( I will always be stuck to you until the end of time and I will make sure it stays that way)

Todoroki blinked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "You're stuck with me until... time?"

Sero chuckled softly, warmth threading through his laugh. "Close—until the end of time. And I'll make sure it stays that way."

The younger boy just watched him, eyes wide and shining, heart fluttering uncontrollably at the tenderness in that smile. The silence between them was thick and comforting, and somewhere deep inside, Todoroki's defenses began to crumble.

'I want this.'

Without warning, Todoroki buried his face in Sero's neck, arms tightening around him like a lifeline. The sudden closeness sent a deep flush rising to Sero's cheeks, heat pooling behind his eyes.

His heart hammered, every nerve alive and electrified. He didn't understand what exactly was happening—but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he could finally breathe.

Sero blinked rapidly, then returned the hug, his arms sliding down to rest securely on Todoroki's surprisingly broad waist. He rested his chin atop the younger's head and let out a slow, contented sigh.

"Roki?" he murmured.

"Hm?"

"Why'd you throw your drink at me?" Sero asked with a teasing grin, despite the pounding in his chest.

Todoroki lifted his head, eyes still glossy, and answered quietly, "I thought you were on fire."

Sero's grin faltered. He looked down, confused, and Todoroki met his gaze, unblinking.

"Why would I be on fire?" Sero asked, voice laced with amusement.

"You were coughing smoke," Todoroki explained with a small shrug. "I didn't want to use my ice—it could hurt you. So I thought the safest option was to put you out with the drink."

For a moment, Sero just stared, processing the bizarre logic. Then laughter bubbled up uncontrollably from his chest, breaking free in a loud, genuine burst. Todoroki blinked, watching with a mix of confusion and mild curiosity.

"What's so funny?" Todoroki asked, tilting his head.

Sero couldn't stop himself. "Dude, you thought my vape made me be on fire!" He giggled again, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes.

"Vape?" Todoroki repeated, brow furrowed.

Sero waved a hand dismissively. "Never mind that—I wasn't on fire, man. I was just coughing because of my anxiety helper thing."

The younger boy let out a soft, understanding "oh," before burying his reddening face into Sero's shoulder. Sero's laughter softened to a fond chuckle as he gently ruffled Todoroki's hair.

"Don't get embarrassed, Roki," he teased softly.

Through the fabric of Sero's shirt, Todoroki mumbled something almost inaudible. Sero tilted his head, trying to catch the words, but only caught a faint, quiet noise.

"Hey, what was that?" Sero asked, his voice gentler now.

Todoroki looked up shyly, eyes flickering with vulnerability. "I... I like this."

Sero's eyes widened slightly, heart skipping a beat. "Like what?"

"Being with you," Todoroki whispered, voice barely above a breath, eyes locking with Sero's.

Sero felt his chest swell with warmth and relief, serotonin rushing through him in waves. A wide grin spread across his face, and he closed his eyes for a moment to savor it.

"I like being with you too," he said, voice soft and full of promise.

Todoroki gasped softly, a shy, almost fragile smile blooming on his lips. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out, his hand trembling ever so slightly as it sought Sero's.

When their fingers finally entwined, Sero's eyes fluttered open, and he was met with the most beautiful, genuine smile he'd ever seen—one that melted something deep inside him.

"I would like more of this," Todoroki confessed quietly, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the weight of his truth.

Sero's heart hammered harder, adrenaline surging through every vein, making his breath hitch. He squeezed the younger boy's hand, stepping closer—so close now that the space between them felt electric, almost unreal.

"Me too," Sero whispered back, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

Todoroki's eyes glistened, and heat bloomed across his cheeks as he felt the closeness. The faint warmth of his fire quirk flickered through his hair, while a delicate sheen of ice formed and shimmered on his foot—a silent, subconscious reaction to his racing heart and conflicted feelings.

Sero lifted his hand gently, cupping Todoroki's chin with a tenderness that made the younger's breath catch. His smile was the sweetest thing, softening his usually mischievous eyes.

"May I do something?" Sero asked quietly.

Todoroki tilted his head, curiosity mingling with a touch of unease. His gaze searched Sero's, trying to read the unspoken question beneath the words.

" What?"

Sero blinked, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red—something rare for him, something honest. Despite his usual confidence, he looked nervous, vulnerable in a way Todoroki hadn't seen before.

But Sero knew he couldn't hold back. Not now.

"Kiss you," he said, voice as light as a feather, almost a breath.

Todoroki's face flamed, his thoughts scrambling to keep up with the sudden confession. His mind went blank—every other worry and doubt fell away, leaving only the gravity of that moment.

He felt disconnected from himself, like he was watching everything happen from outside his body.

Yet, even in that haze, he found himself nodding—slowly, almost involuntarily.

The half-colored-haired boy didn't understand how or why this was happening, but when those two words left Sero's mouth, his world tilted.

Then, like a tender shockwave, Sero's lips met his.

Todoroki's eyes widened in surprise, his quirk flaring as ice crept up his foot and the faintest heat flickered in his hair. He looked up to meet Sero's closed eyes, who pressed closer, deepening the kiss with a quiet confidence that sent a jolt through Todoroki's chest.

Frozen in place, Todoroki felt the years of hesitation, heartbreak, and guardedness begin to unravel. His mind briefly flickered to memories he wanted to forget—Midoriya, the past pain—but he pushed them aside fiercely.

He was ready to make new memories.

To let himself feel again.

When Sero finally pulled away, Todoroki remained stunned, cheeks flushed and heart pounding wildly. He blinked up at the older boy, whose face was a mix of panic and hopeful embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry, dude," Sero hurriedly blurted, waving his hands in a flurry. "I don't know what came over me! Maybe it's the weed or the moment or something—but I just thought... we had something, and my dumbass just went for it—"

Before Sero could finish, Todoroki surprised him by reaching up, cupping his face gently, and pressing his lips back to his. The younger's eyes fluttered closed, his touch soft but sure.

Sero's breath hitched, eyes wide in disbelief.

'Am I dreaming? Did I die? Or am I so fucked up I'm imagining this?'

None of it mattered. The kiss was real, warm, and completely intoxicating. He tightened his arms around Todoroki's waist, pulling him closer.

He could feel the subtle contrast of ice and fire brushing against his cheeks, but none of it mattered. He was kissing Shoto Todoroki—freaking Todoroki—and it was the most incredible moment of his life.

Their hearts pounded in sync, the world around them blurring away as they moved together with surprising harmony, like two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting.

For Sero, it was pure bliss.

For Todoroki, a whirlwind of emotions — nervousness, hope, fear, and something fiercely tender that he had never allowed himself to feel before.

When they finally parted, breathless and flushed, their eyes locked again, burning with new understanding. Their faces remained close, the space between them charged with promise and something unspoken.

Sero noticed the deep red tint to Todoroki's cheeks, his beautiful eyes shimmering under the hallway light.

Todoroki caught the fresh scent of mint and something sweet on Sero's breath, and his lips parted slightly.

"Whoa," Sero whispered, his voice low and husky, as if afraid speaking too loud would shatter the moment.

"Yeah," Todoroki breathed back, a rare smile curling at the corners of his lips—gentle, but genuine. A smile just for him.

Sero blinked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "So... what are we?" he asked slowly, nerves leaking through his casual tone.

Todoroki tilted his head. "What are we?"

"You know," Sero chuckled awkwardly, "are we... friends? Something more? Friends with—uh—bennies?" He wiggled his brows, half-joking, trying to lighten the weight of the question.

Todoroki blinked slowly, head still tilted. "Bennies?"

Sero groaned softly, half-laughing, half-dying inside. "Friends with benefits."

The words hung in the air a second too long before Todoroki's hand suddenly came up to cover Sero's mouth. Sero's eyes widened, blinking into Todoroki's calm, fond smile.

"We are... us," Todoroki said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And yet, somehow, it was the most earth-shattering thing Sero had ever heard.

His heart thudded hard in his chest—once, then twice, before it fully sank in. A weird sense of gravity settled in his chest, like something that had been floating just out of reach for ages had finally landed in his hands.

When Todoroki gently lowered his hand, Sero couldn't stop the grin that bloomed across his face. Big, wide, and impossibly full of disbelief. He reached out and took both of Todoroki's hands in his own again—warm, rough, real.

"You know..." Sero started, voice light but sincere, "I kinda dreamed about this."

"Oh really?" Todoroki raised a brow, his expression unreadable at first—but then his lips tugged upward, and there was a tease in his voice that still felt unfamiliar, like trying on a new shirt he wasn't used to. "What kind of dreams?"

"Uh, the good kind. Duh. I mean—sure, you once froze me into an actual ice coffin—thanks for that lingering trauma, by the way—but, like, once I stopped shivering? Yeah. Definitely the good kind."

He burst out laughing before he could even finish the sentence. Todoroki's eyes narrowed in deadpan offense.

The bi-colored boy promptly slipped his hands free and turned his back to Sero, crossing his arms with the calm, practiced drama of someone who'd clearly studied under Aizawa.

"Aw, c'mon, Roki! I'm kidding—kind of!" Sero said between laughs, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Todoroki's waist from behind. It felt natural. Like he was supposed to hold him like this.

Todoroki didn't move. He didn't flinch or freeze. Instead, he leaned into the warmth of Sero's chest ever so slightly, his fingers twitching where they hovered over his own arms. When he peeked over his shoulder, his eyes were narrowed—but not with anger. They were soft. Calm. Curious.

Sero's smile widened as he rested his chin lightly against the other's shoulder.

"I'll never understand your jokes," Todoroki muttered, voice as flat as ever—but Sero could hear the underlying fondness.

"Come on, mi vida, my jokes are legendary. They bring light to the world," Sero said smugly, spinning Todoroki gently around and reaching up to pinch his cheek.

Todoroki blinked. Then paused.

"You said... my life," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Did you just call me your life?"

Sero froze, caught red-handed. "What? No—I mean—what?"

"You did." Todoroki stepped in closer, eyes alight with something suspiciously close to eagerness. "Say it again."

There was something wild and sweet in his expression, and Sero's breath caught in his throat. He blinked, overwhelmed but too far gone to retreat now. He rubbed the back of his neck and offered a sheepish smile.

"Eres mi vida," he said quietly. "Y espero que aceptes mi oferta de convertirte en mi novio."

Todoroki blinked. "You are my life... and accept your... something... and my boyfriend?"

Sero laughed and immediately facepalmed. "Oh Dios mío."

"Oh my God?"

"Yes." He exhaled slowly and gave up the game. "Would you be my boyfriend, Roki?"

The air went still between them for a moment. Todoroki's arms crossed over his chest again, brows furrowed, clearly thinking. He tilted his head slightly, that ever-present analytical gleam in his eyes—like he was assessing Sero's soul for cracks.

Sero, on the other hand, bowed his head a little, rambling as nerves swelled in his chest like high tide. "I mean—it would be an honor. You'd be the best thing to ever happen to me. I know we haven't had a lot of time, not really, but every second I spend near you feels right, like I finally get to breathe, and I—"

"Hanta."

Sero paused. Looked up.

Todoroki stood there, cheeks flushed, arms still crossed—but this time his expression was softer, patient.

"You're rambling again."

"R-Right," Sero stammered, ears bright red. "Sorry, I—"

"You like doing that, huh?" Todoroki asked, tilting his head again. His voice was unreadable, but his eyes twinkled.

"N-Not really. I just... I don't know how to stop when I'm nervous. And I—"

A hand gently pressed over his mouth again.

Sero blinked down at Todoroki, who stared up at him with the most neutral expression imaginable.

"I don't like it when you ramble," he said flatly.

"Mmph," Sero tried to mumble.

But before he could speak again, Todoroki stood on his toes and pressed a small kiss to his cheek.

Sero's mind went blank. Static. Full system shutdown.

Todoroki slowly removed his hand, meeting his gaze with that same calm sincerity he wore like a second skin.

"But," he said quietly, "I would love to be your boyfriend."

Sero's soul left his body.

"Wha—Wait, really?" he choked out, like he needed confirmation from the universe.

Todoroki nodded once. Then, like it was nothing, he offered his hand again.

Sero took it with both of his, holding it like a sacred relic. His grin was too big, too stupid, and way too pure.

"I'm gonna write a whole-ass love song about this later."

"You can't sing," Todoroki replied dryly.

"That's never stopped me before."

Todoroki's lips twitched. A ghost of a smile.

For a long moment, they stood in that hallway.

Two boys who were never supposed to fall together by the eyes of others, hands clasped, hearts thundering against ribcages, heat radiating from something neither of them could quite name—but both of them understood.

Chapter 12: Date

Third Person POV:

"Man, I have the biggest fucking headache."

Sero turned his head to see Kaminari slumped over his desk, face buried in his arm like he was hoping to disappear. His blonde hair was sticking up in chaotic directions, and he groaned pitifully. To Sero's right, Kirishima was mid-yawn, eyes half-lidded as he blinked blearily at the classroom lights.

"You guys shouldn't have gotten wasted," Sero tsked, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

"I didn't even drink that much," Kirishima mumbled through his palms, clearly regretting his choices. "And I still feel like a semi-truck ran over my brain."

Sero chuckled softly, already too amused for a Friday morning. He glanced across the room and caught Bakugou's crimson eyes locked onto him, expression unreadable—and somehow even more intense than usual.

Oh no.

Sero blinked, gulped, and swiftly looked away. He definitely didn't want that smoke today.

But just as he turned his head, he caught sight of the Dekusquad gathered near Tsuyu's desk. Normally, he wouldn't pay much attention—same routine, different day—but something made him pause. Midoriya looked...off. His usual bright-eyed energy was replaced with a vacant stare, and his posture drooped like a balloon losing air.

Uraraka leaned in to whisper something to him, worry etched into her expression. Sero tilted his head slightly, curiosity piqued—but before he could get too nosey, he heard a soft, familiar voice that cut through all the chaos around him.

"Hanta?"

He straightened up immediately, like a student caught slacking. His eyes lit up as he turned to see Todoroki—his boyfriend—walking toward him with that calm, unreadable expression he'd come to love deciphering.

"Hey, Roki~" he greeted, unable to stop the wide grin spreading across his face.

Todoroki slid gracefully onto the edge of his desk, one hand resting on the surface. "How are you this morning?"

Sero leaned back with a stretch, the grin never fading. "Well, considering I had the best fucking night ever and the most incredible dream to follow it up, I'm doing very alright." He gave the other a cheeky wink.

From across the room, Mina exchanged smirks with Kirishima, while Kaminari gagged dramatically like the scene had personally offended him.

"Oh?" Todoroki tilted his head playfully. "And why, exactly, was it the best night?"

Sero's smirk turned mischievous. "Because I got the best news in the world."

Todoroki blinked in confusion at first, then the realization slowly dawned on him. A slight pink hue colored his cheeks. "Ah. That news," he murmured, adjusting his collar to hide the growing blush. "Well, that's...good to hear."

Sero chuckled warmly, his chest already feeling too full of butterflies. "So?" he leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. "How was your night, Roki?"

Todoroki hesitated before answering, glancing at the floor with a nostalgic smile. "Loud. And overwhelming at first. But... it ended up being worth it." His voice grew quieter. "Very worth it."

God, it took every ounce of self-control in Sero's body not to leap over the desk and kiss him again.

But they had a plan now.

After the events of last night—the kisses, the confession, and Todoroki finally saying yes to being his boyfriend—they'd agreed to keep their relationship quiet. At least for now.

At first, Sero thought it was because Todoroki was embarrassed. He'd felt his stomach twist at the idea. But then Todoroki explained—quietly, awkwardly—that he didn't want to share this part of his life with everyone just yet. Not after his last relationship had been publicized and picked apart. Not after the rumors, the pressure, the stares.

Sero understood. Honestly? It made sense. Even heroes needed privacy.

So for now, they were playing it cool. Friends. Just friends in front of everyone else. Which was fine. Totally fine. He could handle that.

Even if his brain screamed BOYFRIEND BOYFRIEND BOYFRIEND every time Todoroki so much as looked at him.

Still, keeping things lowkey wasn't all bad. There was something kind of thrilling about it. Every brush of a hand, every shared look—they felt like secret messages only the two of them could read. It was like having a world no one else knew about.

Something precious.

But god, the guy made it hard to stay chill.

Especially when he was this pretty in the morning sunlight.

Todoroki, on his end, felt a creeping guilt twist in his chest. He could see how much Sero wanted to show the world, and honestly? That made him feel even worse.

He wanted to give that to him—eventually. But not yet. Not while his heart still flinched at the idea of being seen, analyzed, talked about.

'Maybe I can make it up to him somehow... Rent out a theater? Take him to see that new Fruits Basket movie he mentioned?'

"Roki?"

Todoroki blinked, snapping out of his daze. He turned his head to see Sero's brows furrowed slightly in concern.

"Yes?"

"You okay? You spaced out harder than Kaminari during a math lecture."

"I'm alright," Todoroki nodded, voice soft.

Sero opened his mouth to reply, but right on cue, Aizawa entered the room like a sleep-deprived shadow.

"Alright, seats. Now."

Sero deflated like a balloon. "Damn," he muttered with a pout.

Todoroki stood up, giving a tiny nod. "I'll see you later, Hanta."

"See you in, like, a thousand years," Sero replied dramatically, slumping at his desk.

Todoroki paused, staring at him for a second. Then, with a small sigh, he glanced around the room.

Everyone was distracted—shuffling books, adjusting chairs. With practiced stealth, Todoroki leaned down beside Sero's ear, cupped his hand to his mouth, and whispered:

"Let's eat lunch outside today."

Before the tape boy could even react, Todoroki pressed a soft kiss to his cheek and stood upright again.

Sero froze.

His cheeks turned pink. His eyes sparkled like someone had just handed him a winning lottery ticket. He opened his mouth but no words came out—only stunned, fluttery joy.

"Of course!" he finally whispered back, sounding more lovesick than he intended.

Todoroki offered him a small, fond smile and turned to return to his seat, his own face touched with pink. Neither noticed the stares exchanged between their nearby classmates.

Sero stayed frozen in place for a moment, then slowly melted into his seat, grinning like an idiot.

'Mi amor es tan asombroso.'

(My love is so amazing.)

"Sero?"

'I can't believe he kissed me again.'

"Sero."

'He's my boyfriend. My actual boyfriend. Holy shit.'

" HANTA SERO!"

The shout snapped him out of his daydream. Everyone was staring. Even Aizawa, who looked more tired than annoyed, had paused mid-roll call.

"Y-Yeah, sir?" Sero said, voice cracking painfully.

The room erupted into laughter.

He immediately sank into his chair, covering his face as Aizawa sighed and continued down the list like this was just another Tuesday.

"Bro," Kirishima whispered from the next row, "what is with you?"

Denki leaned in, confused. "Yeah man, your head's in the clouds more than me—and that's saying something."

Sero looked back at his boyfriend, who was quietly flipping pages in his textbook, completely composed.

God, he was beautiful.

"Nothing," Sero replied, dreamy smile returning. "Todo es perfecto."

Mina blinked. "Wait, what?"

"Means everything's perfect," Sero said with a wink.

Kirishima and Denki exchanged looks.

"Dude," Denki huffed, "you totally ditched us last night. Tetsutetsu jumped out of a window."

"And Bakugou's mad at both of us," Kirishima added with a groan.

Sero's grin faltered as last night's conversation with Bakugou flashed in his memory.

'Oh... I was supposed to watch him. Shit.'

"Where were you, man?" Denki demanded.

Sero rubbed the back of his neck, scrambling for a lie. "Uh... I went to bed early."

"You what? Dude, Tets almost died."

"Used his quirk though!" Kirishima added quickly. "Still manly. Sort of."

Sero laughed, "Y'all are estúpidos."

Denki gasped. "Hey! I know that one! You called us stupid!"

"See?" Sero winked. "Learning new words. I'm proud of you."

"You're so mean," Denki whined.

Sero just chuckled and leaned back, shooting one last glance at Todoroki.

Yeah... everything really was perfect.

The classroom buzzed with life. It was between lessons, and the chatter among the students of Class 1-A had reached its usual morning peak. Laughter echoed off the walls, desks scraped against the floor as people turned in their chairs, and the scent of cafeteria snacks wafted faintly through the open door.

Todoroki sat in his assigned seat near the window, unmoving amid the noise. His gaze wasn't focused on his textbook or his neatly stacked notebooks. Instead, his eyes lingered on the back of a certain black-haired boy's head—Hanta Sero, currently doubled over laughing at something Kaminari had said.

There was a soft sigh from Todoroki. He barely noticed he'd let it out.

He honestly didn't want to hide it. This... thing they had. This quiet, delicate, new relationship. Part of him wanted to lean over and rest his hand on Sero's shoulder, to laugh with him, to not care who saw. But he felt like he didn't have a choice. Not yet.

His last relationship had been too public. Too loud. Too fast.

And it fell apart just as quickly.

He still remembered how exposed he'd felt when word got out about his feelings for Midoriya. And worse—how cold Midoriya had grown after that. Maybe Deku hadn't meant to pull away. Maybe it was just the pressure of their classmates whispering and watching. But Todoroki had taken it personally.

This time, he wasn't going to make that mistake again.

He needed time. They needed space. A chance to figure out what they were without the constant weight of others' expectations.

Todoroki lowered his gaze to the desk, running his fingers along the edge of his textbook. 'This time, I'll be better. I won't be too much. I won't be clingy. I'll give him space—whatever he needs.'

His hand froze mid-motion when a familiar laugh rang through the room again.

Sero.

That stupid, loud, wonderful laugh that made his stomach flutter in ways he still didn't fully understand. Todoroki's eyes lifted before he could stop himself.

There he was, still talking animatedly to Kaminari, hand gesturing as he grinned from ear to ear. The sunlight caught the shine in his hair, and Todoroki found himself smiling faintly, almost unconsciously.

It was strange how quickly everything had changed.

A day ago, Todoroki had convinced himself he was allergic to Sero. It was embarrassing. Mortifying, even. Who says something like that out loud?

But Sero had just laughed—really laughed—and reassured him with that easy warmth Todoroki was starting to crave.

He still felt like an idiot over it, but somehow, that awkward night ended with them... together. Well, mostly. Boyfriends, technically. He still hadn't gotten used to the word. It felt too heavy and too light all at once.

He remembered the way Sero had looked at him—so gentle, so amused—and the way his lips felt against his. The second kiss especially. The first had been a chaotic blur, somewhere between shock and instinct. But the second... the second was something else entirely.

Soft. Smooth. Reassuring.

Intimate.

Not like with Midoriya. That had always been light, hesitant cheek kisses. Careful. Almost apologetic. He'd never really questioned it before, never thought much about what kissing was supposed to be like—until Sero kissed him like it meant something.

And now?

Now his brain went completely blank whenever he thought about it.

He wasn't used to feeling this... full. And yet, it terrified him. 

What if he ruined it? What if he made Sero feel suffocated or trapped? What if it ended just like the last time?

He didn't think he could bear losing someone like that again.

The thought lingered like smoke—thin and hard to grasp, but heavy all the same. It curled in his chest, clinging to his ribs, making it hard to breathe.

"...Todoroki?"

The voice cut cleanly through the haze. His eyes snapped upward, startled from his thoughts as if he'd been caught mid-dream. Standing before him was Tokoyami, arm outstretched, holding a slightly crumpled piece of paper between his fingers. His expression remained stoic, the usual unreadable calm, but his sharp eyes betrayed the faintest glimmer of awareness.

"You dropped this," Tokoyami said plainly.

Todoroki blinked, glancing down to find one of his worksheet pages fluttering in the air like a white flag of distraction. He took it quickly, fingers brushing Tokoyami's before he pulled back. The edges of the paper were soft and warm from someone else's hand.

"Ah—thank you," he murmured, voice quiet. "Sorry. I wasn't... paying attention."

"Clearly," Tokoyami replied with a single raised brow before turning back to his seat. There was no judgment in his voice, only quiet observation. No further comment. No need.

Todoroki turned back toward his desk, only to catch Momo watching him from the next row over. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her gaze gentle but piercing—curious, concerned.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, careful to keep her voice low, just between them. "You've been zoning out a lot lately."

He gave a quick nod, almost automatic. But then he stopped himself—corrected it.

"Yes. I'm sorry," he added, glancing down. "I didn't mean to be a distraction."

"You're not," Momo said instantly, shaking her head and waving her hand with a slight fluster. "I just... noticed. That's all. I was a little worried."

Todoroki opened his mouth to reply, but Tokoyami's voice floated over from behind his open textbook before he could speak.

"Understandable," Tokoyami murmured, barely looking up. "He's been unusually preoccupied. Perhaps he's finally resolved the issue we discussed yesterday."

Todoroki stilled for half a second. His fingers stopped fidgeting with the corner of the worksheet.

Right. That issue.

His eyes drifted across the room toward Sero, who was grinning at something Kaminari had said. The warmth of that laugh—bright, easy, and so vividly alive—filled the space around it like sunlight through glass.

Todoroki smiled. Soft. Small. Private.

"...Yeah," he breathed, the word barely audible. "I did."

Tokoyami didn't press further. He just nodded once and turned a page.

Momo, however, tilted her head, still watching him carefully. "Wait—what are you talking about?" she asked, glancing back and forth between them. "What issue?"

Todoroki turned to her slowly, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. He opened his mouth, unsure of how to explain, when All Might's, while Aizawa was sleeping underneath the desk, voice rang sharply across the classroom.

"Alright, everyone, let's open to the last chapter of The Great Hero War. Page 219."

A collective groan rippled through the class. Momo sighed, casting Todoroki a mildly exasperated look. But before she turned back to her book, he leaned toward her slightly, offering a small, apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Yaoyorozu," he whispered. "I'll tell you later."

She softened instantly. "Okay," she whispered back.

They exchanged a quiet nod, then turned their attention to the front of the room. As the teacher began his lecture, Todoroki's eyes flicked once more toward the back row—toward Sero.

And this time, the heaviness in his chest didn't weigh him down.

It made him feel grounded.

Safe.

Home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"Now, when you see this x, you're going to make sure you isolate it. Move the constants to the other side of the equation..."

I let out a loud sigh through my nose, slumping further into my seat like gravity was personally trying to take me out.

God, I hate math class.

It's almost as boring as Modern Literature—which is saying something, because at least in Literature you can kind of zone out and pretend the main character is secretly a villain. But math? There's no escape. Just numbers and symbols and random-ass letters pretending like they belong here.

Why the hell do I need to know what 2x = y³ means? When in my life, as a Pro Hero, will I be held hostage unless I solve for x? Never. That's when. This isn't math anymore. This is some ancient-ass hieroglyphic code that even Indiana Jones wouldn't bother decoding.

And don't even get me started on Ectoplasm's voice. Monotone as hell. It's like listening to Siri give tax advice.

I feel my eyelids starting to droop, and I shift in my seat to keep myself awake. 

Can't fall asleep. Not because I'm scared of Ectoplasm catching me—no, it's because I sit right next to Denki. And I absolutely do not trust that man with a pen if I'm unconscious. Last time I nodded off in class, he drew a whole mustache and a unibrow on me. Took me two days to fully scrub it off.

Also, I don't want to look like some lazy slacker in front of mi nuevo novio. I want to show him I've got my shit together. That I'm serious. About school, about being a hero, and most importantly—about him. He said yes to being my boyfriend, and I refuse to give him a single reason to regret it.

"Pst."

Oh god. Here we go.

"Pst!"

I swear on my máma, I will kill this boy.

"What do you want," I hissed out of the corner of my mouth, not even bothering to look at him. Thank god we sit in the middle row, left side—less risk of being heard. Denki has no concept of what 'whispering' actually is.

He leaned in slightly, grinning like he was doing something illegal. "We're thinking about having lunch in Kiri's room. You down?"

I blinked. "Why Kiri's room?"

He shrugged like it was obvious. "Because Kirishima's hiding from Bakugou. Apparently, he's pissed about something."

Oh. Right.

Yeah, I definitely know why.

It's because Kiri went out drinking the other night. And guess who didn't stop him?

Me.

Guess who Bakugou specifically threatened to murder if Kiri got himself into trouble?

Also me.

So yeah, Bakugou's pissed. I can't even blame him.

I was about to say "sure"—until I remembered something.

Roki wanted to eat lunch outside together today. Just us.

We were gonna sit under that one shady tree in the back courtyard, talk about class and maybe... I dunno... hold hands or something cheesy like that. I was kind of looking forward to it, not gonna lie.

So I shook my head. "Nah, sorry dude. I got plans at lunch."

Denki's eyebrows shot up. "What plans?"

"I—"

Shit.

I can't tell him. Not yet. Me and Todoroki aren't exactly public, and honestly... I like it that way for now. It's not like we're ashamed or anything, but there's something kind of nice about it just being ours. Plus, knowing this group? The teasing would never end.

Also, I don't want Roki to feel like he's being put under a microscope. He's private. Quiet. I don't want him worrying.

So I smiled. Real confident-like. "Just... got some makeup work to do."

Lie.

A big one.

Denki didn't buy it for a second. He snorted. "Bitch, that's a lie. You never even think about makeup work until finals week."

Here's a revised and expanded version that keeps your tone, amps up the humor and tension, and makes it smoother and more expressive overall:

I rolled my eyes and smirked. "Well, maybe I'm turning over a new leaf."

Denki squinted at me like I'd just declared I was giving up caffeine and chaos. "Dude. Cut the crap."

His tone was sharp, no-nonsense, and laced with suspicion. The Denki Danger Detector had officially gone off.

"You're lying. Just tell me. What plans do you actually have?"

My stomach dropped. Right. I forgot—best friends come equipped with a bullshit radar stronger than All Might's punch. And Denki? His is weaponized. Borderline psychic.

"I, uh..." I scratched the back of my neck like a guilty anime protagonist. "I just gotta...do some things."

Yup. Nailed it. Definitely didn't sound shady at all. I might as well have said I was on a top-secret mission to steal the moon.

Denki's face twisted like I'd just insulted his favorite anime. His jaw locked, and he shot me a glare so sharp it could've cut through titanium. "Sero. Why are you lying to me? What's the deal?"

Shit.

He was officially in bloodhound mode now—and a pissed-off Denki doesn't yell or throw punches. No, no. He interrogates. Repeatedly. With the energy of a sugar-fueled puppy and the patience of someone who's read your diary and knows the answer already.

"I'm not lying," I said, flashing my most cheerful, obviously-fake smile.

Denki didn't even blink. "You are. Your mouth's doing that twitch thing again."

Damn it.

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

'Betrayal. From my own face.'

Denki glanced toward the front of the room. Ectoplasm was still droning on, his monotone voice somehow making exponential equations sound like a lullaby of death. Zero awareness that his students were dying inside. Slowly.

Then Denki leaned in, his eyes narrowing like a detective in a trench coat. "If you don't tell me right now, I swear I'll—"

I raised an eyebrow. "You'll what?"

He puffed up his cheeks like an indignant Pikachu, clearly scrambling for a threat. "I'll tell Todoroki your little secret."

I blinked. Bold move. Problem was... I'm already dating Todoroki. So unless he was planning to tell him I sleep with socks on sometimes, I wasn't too worried. Still, I had to play the part.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, I would." Denki's grin widened, eyes glinting with mischief. "And I'll tell Bakugou you're the one who ate his leftovers."

My jaw dropped. "That was you!"

He pointed a finger at himself and gave me the most smug grin imaginable. "Exactly. But who do you think he's gonna believe?"

I glared. "You evil bastard."

He opened his mouth to respond—but right then, Ectoplasm's voice cut through the air like a knife dipped in authority. "Mr. Sero. Mr. Kaminari. Is there something you'd like to share with the class? Or would you prefer to solve this equation for me?"

We froze like two guilty cats caught mid-heist.

Slowly, we looked up. Sure enough, the entire class was now staring at us like we'd just confessed to murder.

"Nope! All good here, sir!" Denki said brightly, throwing up jazz hands like that would help.

"Yep! Totally good! Sorry!" I echoed, nodding so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

Ectoplasm gave us The Look—you know the one. Slow, heavy-lidded, with centuries of disappointment behind it—before turning back to the board with a sigh. "Let's continue. Preferably without further... disruptions."

As soon as his back was turned, Denki and I locked eyes, exhaled in unison, and gave each other a silent high-five beneath our desks.

We might've been dumbasses, but we were a well-oiled team of dumbasses.

And honestly? That's kind of beautiful.

"Alright," Denki muttered, scribbling something in his notebook. "So what's the real deal? You still ditching us at lunch?"

"Yeah," I admitted quietly. "But I'll meet you guys for dinner. I just... I've got something I need to do first."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. That something wouldn't happen to involve a certain bi-colored heartthrob, would it?"

I tensed.

Denki wiggled his eyebrows. "Thought so."

"Shut up," I muttered, blushing. "I'm trying to keep things low-key."

"Low-key? Bro, you giggled when he accidentally brushed your hand this morning."

I stared at my notebook, avoiding eye contact. "It was... endearing."

Denki smirked, but let it go—for now. "So... about that drink to the face. You ever figure out why that happened?"

I blinked at the memory, then snorted. Oh god. That was hilarious.

I tried to stifle my laugh, but it bubbled up anyway.

Todoroki thought I was on fire.

Why?

Because I vaped near him and he saw the smoke and panicked.

The boy straight up threw his drink at me.

A full-ass beer.

And the best part? He didn't even apologize—he lectured me. Said, and I quote, "Your lungs are already fragile enough as they are." Like he's a certified pulmonologist now.

I appreciated it, really—I mean, it was kind of cute that he cared that much. But still. That whole interaction was peak chaos.

I started laughing harder, covering my mouth as I tried not to cackle in the middle of class. But I couldn't help it. The image of Todoroki's panicked face as he hurled a drink at me like I was the Human Torch? Priceless.

"Dude... you good?" Denki asked, squinting at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Bro," I wheezed. "The reason he threw the drink is so—so stupidly funny—"

"Sero, what the hell, man?" Kirishima turned in his seat, confused and lowkey amused.

Mina leaned over her desk, eyes narrowed. "Dude, seriously, keep it down. Ectoplasm is right there."

"I know," I hissed through a laugh. "But it's just—he thought I was combusting—"

"I see my class isn't very interested in the lesson," Ectoplasm's voice rang again—this time colder.

Shit.

The four of us froze as all eyes once again turned toward our corner of the room. The judgment in the air was palpable.

Ectoplasm gave us the stare of a man who had zero faith left in his students. "Extra homework. For all four of you."

"Come on!" we groaned in perfect harmony, the cry of students betrayed by their own stupidity.

He didn't even flinch. Just turned back to the board like he hadn't just sentenced us to academic death.

Mina dropped her forehead against the desk.

Kirishima sighed so hard it was practically a gust of wind.

Denki mouthed thanks a lot at me with narrowed eyes.

I slouched lower in my chair, barely resisting the urge to slide under the desk entirely.

And when I looked up?

Todoroki was staring at me.

His face wasn't angry.

It was worse.

He looked disappointed.

Like I'd just told him I ran over his dog. Twice.

And to make matters worse? Midoriya was sitting next to him. His ex. Of all the people to be sitting next to during my downfall, it had to be the most wholesome green bean in existence.

I let out a long, quiet groan and buried my face in my arms.

I'd been dating the guy for less than a day and I already looked like a disaster in front of him. Flirting? Failed. Subtlety? Gone. Peer respect? Dead and buried.

Smooth, Sero. Real smooth.

Denki nudged me under the desk.

I peeked up, only to see him, Mina, and Kiri all giving me varying degrees of judgmental side-eye like I'd dragged them into the seventh circle of detention.

I offered a sheepish grin and a double thumbs-up.

"Oops," I whispered.

Denki sighed. "You're lucky you're charming."

Mina added, "And that you're barely cute enough to make up for it."

Kirishima just groaned. "You owe us snacks for a week."

Fair.

Honestly? Still worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

"And then he just blew up—like, full-on explosion mode—and I was like, dude, whoa! And then I swear, I just stood there and went, like, 'For sure.'"

Denki Kaminari threw his hands in the air as if he were reenacting a scene from an action movie. His eyes were wide with intensity, the tips of his fingers crackling slightly with leftover static, like his own story had amped him up too much to contain.

He paused dramatically, waiting for the applause. Or gasps. Or something.

Silence.

Mina Ashido and Hanta Sero stared at him. Not blinking. Not breathing. Not moving.

Then they slowly turned to look at each other, matching expressions of utter confusion on their faces.

Mina leaned in slightly, squinting like Denki had just spoken an entirely different language. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Denki's cocky grin faltered. His face fell like a tower of Jenga blocks. "You guys are fake," he gasped, clutching his chest like they'd stabbed him in the heart. "I give you cinema, and you give me judgment?"

Sero let out a snort and burst into laughter, leaning back against his chair as if the weight of Denki's drama was just too much.

Mina rolled her eyes. "Cinema? That wasn't cinema, dude. That was—what even was that? Was it a dream? Was it real? Are you okay?"

Denki threw up his hands. "It was metaphorical! It's about the vibe, not the details!"

"Yeah, no," Sero said, wiping his eye. "That had zero vibe. Negative vibes, honestly."

Denki pouted. "You know what? You people wouldn't know art if it fried your brain through your molars."

"Is that what's happened to you?" Mina shot back sweetly.

Before Denki could respond with something equally unhinged, the bell above them rang sharply, signaling the start of lunch.

Thank god.

"Finally," Sero muttered, already halfway out of his chair.

His gaze swept across the room like it always did—part habit, part hope—and there he was: Todoroki. Standing near Momo and Tokoyami, head tilted slightly in concentration as he listened to something Momo was saying. He looked calm, focused... gorgeous.

A small, instinctive smile crept onto Sero's face. Everything else faded out: the noise, the movement, even Denki dramatically whispering "traitor" behind him.

"See ya," Sero said quickly, already sliding past desks.

"Wait—we were gonna grab seats—" Mina started, but Sero was gone.

Denki squinted after him. "Something's going on with that dude. I'm gonna crack it. I feel it in my teeth."

"Maybe that's the electricity," Mina said.

Denki nodded solemnly. "Maybe I am the truth."

Mina snorted and shoved his shoulder as they headed the other way.

Sero strolled across the classroom with that easy swagger he'd perfected over the years—the kind that screamed "no worries," even as a miniature hurricane churned in his chest.

The closer he got, the louder the flapping of those nervous butterflies became, like they were trying to claw their way out of his ribcage every time Todoroki so much as looked in his direction.

He raised a casual hand in greeting, trying not to look too eager. "Hey, guys."

Momo and Tokoyami gave him polite, composed nods, their faces unreadable as always. But Todoroki—Todoroki turned at the sound of his voice like he'd been waiting for it.

And just like that, the rigid lines of his face softened, his posture loosened. He didn't smile—he rarely ever did—but his eyes warmed, and something subtle but real lit up in them. A spark. A flicker. That thing Sero had learned to read like a second language.

And it never stopped making his stomach do backflips.

"Hello, Hanta," Todoroki said, voice even but warm. "Let me grab my bag and we can head out."

"Alrighty, Roki," Sero replied, adding a little playful lilt to the nickname he knew made Todoroki's ears turn pink.

Sure enough, a faint blush crept up Todoroki's cheeks. It was barely there, but Sero caught it. He always did.

Todoroki offered his friends a brief wave before heading back to his desk, leaving Sero alone with Momo and Tokoyami—two people who looked like they were about to conduct an impromptu intervention.

Sero gave them a relaxed, easygoing smile. "So, how's your guys'—"

"Do you still vape?" Momo asked flatly, cutting him off like she was slamming a gavel down in court.

Sero blinked. "Whoa. Okay. Straight to the jugular."

He glanced at Tokoyami for backup, but the other boy was watching him with a raised brow and equal intensity.

'Oh. Great. They definitely know,' Sero thought, dragging a hand down his face. 'Roki told them. Of course he did.'

"Well, I mean, not really—" he started weakly.

"You're still a minor," Momo said, arms crossing with the authority of someone who had memorized every law in Japan. "And vaping is incredibly harmful. It can permanently affect your lungs, your cardiovascular health—your whole respiratory system, Sero."

"I get that, I do," Sero said, trying to backpedal. "But it's not like I—"

"It could impact your agility," Tokoyami added, tone somber. "And your stamina. Which are both vital for your combat training."

'Why does this feel like a parent-teacher conference?' Sero winced internally.

"And more importantly," Momo added, stepping in with the final nail, "don't involve Todoroki in it. He doesn't need to be dragged into that kind of behavior."

Sero's jaw tensed. That one stung. "Okay, hold up. That's not even—"

"Hanta, I'm ready," Todoroki called, returning with his bento box in hand, completely unaware of the emotional hit Sero had just taken.

Saved. By. The. Damn. Bell.

Momo's demeanor did a complete one-eighty as she turned toward Todoroki with a gentle smile. "I hope you have a lovely lunch, Todoroki."

"Yes. Enjoy it," Tokoyami added, voice suddenly serene, as if he hadn't just sucker-punched Sero's pride.

"Thank you," Todoroki replied politely. Then he turned to Sero with that same quiet softness. "Shall we?"

Sero nodded quickly, his thoughts still scrambled. "Yeah. Let's go."

As they stepped into the hallway, Sero shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to make sense of everything that just happened. Momo's words echoed in his head. Tokoyami's too.

'Did Roki actually tell them? About the vaping? About us? Was this some weird protective friend protocol?'

He glanced sideways at Todoroki, who looked perfectly calm, as usual. He wasn't saying anything. Just walking next to Sero like the confrontation hadn't even happened.

But before Sero could overthink himself into the ground—

"Hanta?" Todoroki's voice cut through the quiet.

"Yeah?"

"Why did you laugh so much in math class today?"

Sero blinked. "Hmm?"

Todoroki turned his head slightly, expression calm but curious.

Sero shrugged, eyes drifting toward the ceiling tiles. "I dunno. Something popped into my head. It was just stupid. Kinda funny."

Todoroki gave a quiet "hmm," clearly not convinced. He opened his mouth again like he wanted to say more, then hesitated.

Sero caught it. "What?"

"You should really try to stay focused," Todoroki said eventually. "Isn't math one of your lowest grades?"

Sero gave a sheepish grin. "Technically history's worse. Math's like... the runner-up."

Todoroki sighed, and Sero felt that grin waver.

"Hanta," Todoroki said gently, "I'm serious. You have to start taking your studies more seriously. If you want to become a better hero, you need to know that being a hero takes more than just physical skill."

It wasn't accusatory. There was no harshness behind the words—only concern. And that somehow made it land even harder.

'God. Why is everyone on my ass today?' Sero thought, his smile tightening at the corners. First the vape inquisition, now this? From Todoroki, of all people?

"I just worry," Todoroki continued. "I want you to succeed."

Sero exhaled slowly. "Look, Roki... can we not talk about school right now? I've already been roasted six ways from Sunday today."

Todoroki went quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. "Okay."

They walked for a few beats in silence. But Sero's thoughts kept circling back. The concern in Todoroki's voice. The way Momo looked at him like he was dragging Todoroki down.

He wanted to shake it off, but...

You don't deserve him.

The voice came uninvited, sharp as ever. Even now—even when they were together—Sero couldn't quite shut it up.

He knew Todoroki cared. That much was undeniable. But sometimes, the way Todoroki cared—so completely, so seriously—felt like it came with a magnifying glass pointed at all the places Sero wished he could hide.

Then Todoroki spoke again. "I learned something today."

Sero arched a brow. "Yeah? What was it?"

"Vaping causes lung cancer," Todoroki said calmly.

Sero groaned. "Roki..."

"Some devices contain heavy metals," Todoroki added. "You're inhaling that directly into your lungs."

Sero stopped walking and stared at him. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

Todoroki turned to face him, his expression unreadable, but his voice steady.

"Because we're in a relationship now. And I don't want you hurting yourself. I want you to be around for a long time. And I want us both to become heroes. Together."

Sero's breath caught.

He hadn't expected that. Not the sincerity, not the depth of it.

It was so Todoroki. No games, no avoidance. Just... heart, in its quietest, rawest form.

Looking around to make sure no one was watching, Sero stepped closer. He leaned over and gave a kiss Todoroki's nose gently, grinning.

"Lo siento, mi vida. I'll try to stop."

Todoroki blinked. His lips parted slightly like the words caught him off guard. A slow flush crept across his cheeks again—more intense this time—and Sero saw it: that rare crack in the ice. That vulnerable softness Todoroki saved just for him.

"...Thank you," Todoroki said quietly.

Sero's smile widened. He slipped an arm around Todoroki's shoulders and tugged him close, pressing a quick kiss to his temple without thinking.

"C'mon," he said lightly. "If I don't eat soon, I'll go full villain."

Todoroki huffed a soft laugh—so small, so brief, but real.

And with that, the weight pressing down on Sero's chest lightened. Not all the way—but enough.

He still wasn't sure he deserved Todoroki.

But he was going to do whatever it took to be deserving.

Every damn day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

Hanta and I finally made it to the rooftop. The summer air was warm, with a slight breeze curling over the ledge and ruffling our uniforms.

I'd wanted a peaceful, quiet lunch with my new boyfriend—something soft and private, just for the two of us.

But that, unfortunately, didn't get to happen.

"Por qué soy así?! Yo tenía un trabajo!"
("Why am I like this?! I had one job!")

The words spilled out of Hanta like a dramatized soap opera, hands flailing before he collapsed face-down onto the cement.

I frowned, looking down at him as he rolled dramatically onto his back, still groaning. I didn't understand all of the Spanish, but the sentiment was clear: frustration. Embarrassment. Self-directed chaos.

"Hanta," I said evenly, watching him writhe like he'd just lost a war against himself.

He groaned louder in response, dragging his hands down his face. I sighed softly, shifting to sit cross-legged beside him with my bento.

We were supposed to eat lunch together. But it had somehow turned into just me eating lunch... while Hanta dramatically had an existential crisis next to me.

It started when we were walking outside—talking about class, joking around. He was smiling. Then halfway to the courtyard, he gasped and nearly facepalmed.

He'd forgotten his lunch. I offered to go back with him to grab it, but he waved it off, said he'd just grab something from the cafeteria so I wouldn't have to wait.

That sounded fine. Until we were in line at the cafeteria and he realized he forgot his wallet.

UA's food isn't free. Not unless you want to eat the suspiciously gray "free lunch" option that even Tokoyami once called "a threat to society."

Naturally, I tried to pay for him—but Hanta was faster. He grabbed my wallet right out of my hands, shouted something about honor, and ran off down the hall with it, yelling, "Not on my watch!" before returning it sheepishly ten minutes later.

And now here we were. On the rooftop. Him flopped like a wet rag on the concrete, and me eating quietly beside him.

It was absurd. It was chaotic.

And, annoyingly, it was kind of... charming.

I glanced down at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly as I set my lunch aside. "Do you want to share my food?"

He immediately sat up and shook his head. "No, no—I couldn't do that, Roki. You eat it."

"But you're going to be hungry."

"I'm fine! I'll grab some chips or... I dunno, air." He smiled crookedly and waved it off like his stomach wasn't already growling.

I narrowed my eyes, not buying it. "Hanta, can we please go back and get your lunch?"

"No," he said firmly, eyes soft but voice final. "I want to spend every moment with you that I can. I already wasted time being a dummy. I don't wanna waste more running around."

I blinked.

My heart stuttered.

He meant that?

Even after all the chaos, the sprinting, the embarrassment—he'd rather sit up here, hungry, just to spend time with me?

I wasn't used to people saying things like that. Not and actually meaning it. Not in the quiet, casual way that Hanta just did.

A strange warmth bloomed in my chest—soft and flickering. Like the glow of a coal that hadn't gone out.

I smiled a little, looking back down at my food. "Okay," I said quietly. "But if you pass out, I'm dragging you to Recovery Girl."

Hanta chuckled, lying back down with his arms folded behind his head. "Deal."

There was a lull in conversation—one that felt comfortable. The kind of silence I'd never known could exist between two people. It wasn't awkward. Just... shared space.

Then, his voice broke through the calm again—more tentative this time.

"So, um... Roki?"

"Yeah?"

"There's something I should probably tell you."

I looked over, pausing my chopsticks. "What is it?"

"I—uh... I know it's kinda silly, but... sometimes I feel like I'm not really... worthy of being with you."

I froze.

My gaze shot to him, watching as he kept his eyes locked on the sky. The same sky that felt too wide, too unreachable in moments like this.

"What are you talking about?"

I didn't mean to sound so sharp. But my voice had that edge of instinctive defense.

Defense for him.

He sat up a little, turning toward me, his brown eyes more serious than I was used to seeing.

"Look, I know my confession was kinda a mess. I'd been holding it in for so long—and when you said yes, I was honestly shocked. I kept thinking you were just being polite. Like I was a rebound or something. And you were with Midoriya for so long—I figured I wasn't even on your radar."

I stared at him.

The words hit me like cold water.

He... really thought that? That I said yes to him out of pity? That I wasn't actually serious?

I set my food down and looked into my lap. Shame and guilt seeped in through the cracks.

Had I really made him feel that way?

I never wanted that.

Not from him.

Maybe he was regretting all of this...

"Hanta..."

His name slipped from my lips before I could stop it—quiet, unsure, full of the storm swirling in my chest.

He didn't say anything right away. Instead, he reached out slowly, carefully, like I might shatter if he moved too fast. Then his fingers brushed mine, and he gently threaded them together, holding my hand like it was something delicate. Something precious.

"You have no idea how much I fucking like you, man," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper but thick with emotion. "And I was scared. I still am. But I'm not saying I regret it. I don't. I just... I wish I'd done it better. In a more... romantic way. That's all."

I blinked.

How... did he know?

That's exactly how I'd been feeling. Like maybe we'd rushed it. Or missed some important step. Or that I'd somehow done it wrong. Like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Maybe it was what Mina said—that being in a relationship opens some kind of invisible link between hearts. That when it's real, when it's right, the other person just knows.

I don't know if I believe in all that—but the way Hanta looked at me in that moment, soft and open and there—maybe she was onto something.

"In a romantic way," I echoed, more to myself than anything.

He smiled then, that warm crooked grin I liked way too much. The one that made my chest feel weird and tingly in a good way.

"Yeah," he said. "You know, like maybe... a date?"

Date?

I haven't been on one of those in...

When was the last time?

When did I even ask Midoriya to be my boyfriend? Was there a moment? A question? A day that marked the beginning?

I couldn't remember.

It had just... happened. Between training and stress and hero work, the time for romance had never really existed. We were both too busy saving people to realize we hadn't saved us.

But this? With Hanta?

It felt different.

Slower. Softer. Like I was being offered a second chance at something I didn't realize I needed.

"A date?" I repeated, blinking at him.

He nodded eagerly, eyes twinkling. "Yeah, Roki~ You know, just me and you. Spending time together. Doing couple-y stuff. Being cute and gross and annoying in public if we want to."

I laughed a little despite myself, and I felt the heat crawl across my cheeks. But I wasn't embarrassed. Just... flustered. And honestly, kind of happy.

I picked up the remnants of my lunch and tucked them away, my smile softening as I glanced back at him.

"That does sound nice."

His grin widened, boyish and proud. "And~ I'll make sure it's the best ever."

I tilted my head in surprise. "You're taking me?"

"Duh," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I asked to be your boyfriend. So now I get to plan our first real date. That's only fair, right?"

I paused. Huh.

I hadn't thought about it like that before.

With Mid—my ex—it had always been me. Me making the effort. Me initiating. Me waiting and hoping and stretching myself thin just to keep things from falling apart.

But this time, Hanta was already reaching for me. Offering.

And I... I liked it.

I think I needed it.

"Oh."

Then he suddenly stood, bouncing on his heels and practically glowing.

His smile was so bright, so him, it made my heart skip like a badly edited audio track. He looked like he was about to burst with excitement, like a kid on Christmas morning.

"I can't wait, mi vida! We could go tomorrow! I have so many ideas for us—like, we could go get boba, then check out that retro arcade downtown, and maybe even go to the park with the koi pond—and oh my god, I have to show you this new food truck I found on Twitter. They have churro ice cream sandwiches!"

I blinked, overwhelmed but amused.

"On a Saturday, Hanta?"

"Si! It's perfect. No school. No patrols. And we can be alone, just us." He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "No classmates around to catch us making googly eyes at each other."

I flinched slightly.

That... stung.

I knew he didn't mean anything by it, but something about that hit me in the chest harder than expected. Maybe because I had asked him to keep this quiet. Maybe because I was hiding us.

And it made me wonder—did he think I was ashamed?

Because I wasn't.

I just... wanted to take this slow. To figure out my feelings before they got tangled up in everyone else's opinions. I didn't want the whole class talking. I didn't want comparisons. Or assumptions. Or pressure.

I'd been there before.

And it hadn't ended well.

But with Hanta, I want to do it right. My way. Our way.

"Hanta?"

"Sí, Roki~" he replied, all sing-song and smiles, but I could hear the question under his tone. He knew I was serious.

I exhaled.

"I... I just want you to know I do want to be in a relationship with you. And I really hope you don't think that I don't."

His smile faltered. Just a little. Enough to twist something in my gut. I opened my mouth to explain further, but he was already stepping forward, already reaching for me again.

His hands cupped my cheeks, warm and gentle. Like I was something fragile but worth holding.

I froze.

His eyes locked with mine, deep brown and full of something that almost made me dizzy.

"Roki," he whispered. "You don't have to explain anything. I get it. Really. I'm just happy you wanted to be with me. That you gave me a chance. That's more than enough."

I stared at him.

He was happy.

With me.

I hadn't done anything. I didn't even feel like I knew what I was doing. But he was happy... just because I said yes?

My quirks flared instinctively—ice crawling across the table from my right hand, heat blooming near my left. Embarrassed, I yanked them back, clenching my fists to get it under control.

He pulled his hands away gently, not even reacting to the change in temperature.

I missed his touch the second it was gone.

This was all so confusing.

"So..." he said softly, his voice lighter than the breeze curling through the open window, "Do you still wanna go on a date with me tomorrow?"

He said it like nothing had happened—like I hadn't just spent the last few minutes spiraling in my own head. He grinned like asking that question was the most natural thing in the world, but I could tell it wasn't. Not for him. There was a glint of nervousness in his eyes, just beneath the warm brown, like my answer actually meant something—a lot of something.

I looked up at him, really looked, and saw it—this brightness in his face like sunlight through thick clouds. That smile he wore wasn't fake. It wasn't exaggerated. It was soft and hopeful and real.

And somehow, despite the storm still rumbling faintly in the back of my mind, despite the tangled mess of thoughts I couldn't quite sort out yet... I smiled.

A real one.

"Yes," I said, and I meant it.

The way Hanta lit up made my chest ache a little—in the good way. Like warmth swelling in places I didn't know had gone cold.

His entire body jolted with excitement as he exclaimed, "Oh Roki, I promise you I will try my best to make this the best date ever!"

I blinked, momentarily stunned by the intensity of his reaction, and then let out a soft chuckle. "Okay, Hanta."

He gets excited so easily. Most people might find that exhausting, but I don't. Not even a little. In fact, I... I like it. I like seeing him happy. It makes something in me relax. Somehow, his joy makes me feel lighter, too, even if I don't quite understand how or why just yet.

One thing I do know: when Hanta cares about something—or someone—he doesn't hold back. He throws himself into it with everything he's got.

I only wish he'd do the same with his homework.

"Okay, okay, so I know where I'm taking you," he said, his eyes lighting up like a kid with a secret, "and I hope—wait! No. Nope. I'm gonna surprise you!" He plopped down beside me again, flopping over dramatically.

I carefully lifted my lunch onto my lap. "Okay."

"Let's meet in the common room at... 4 o'clock?"

That worked for me. I had planned to finish up a few assignments and my father had asked me to come home for training around noon, but that wasn't happening now. Not when I had something better—someone better—to spend the day with.

Let him be mad. I'd deal with that next weekend.

"That sounds good to me."

And there it was again—that smile, wide and genuine and almost blinding in its intensity. His eyes practically shimmered with happiness, and I was struck, once again, by the question that kept tugging at the edges of my thoughts: how can someone feel this much joy and still be standing upright?

It amazed me.

It confused me.

But more than anything... I envied it.

I wished I could be like that. I wished my smiles didn't take so much effort, that joy didn't feel like something I had to earn first.

Maybe Hanta could teach me how.

"So, Roki," he said, leaning a little closer, "did you enjoy the last volume you borrowed?"

"Oh yes, I did," I replied immediately. "I want to read the next one soon, but... I'm worried about Ash."

Hanta gave me a playful, knowing look before reaching over and gently running his fingers through my hair.

I didn't flinch. I didn't pull away.

"Oh, Roki," he said with a grin. "You don't even know half of it."

And then something in me just... clicked.

Like a switch being flipped.

I stopped thinking so hard. I let myself sink into the rhythm of his hand in my hair and the quiet between our breaths. I blocked out the noise of everything else—school, expectations, my father, old memories I didn't want to revisit.

I just existed in that moment.

And it felt... good.

Hanta's touch was gentle, almost methodical. His fingers were warm and careful, and somehow every small movement untied another knot in my chest.

I didn't know I could feel this calm. I didn't know I needed to feel this calm.

Lately everything's been tense—between the pressure of being a top student, the endless studies my father expects from me, and the stress of becoming the kind of hero I'm not even sure I want to be.

And then there's the breakup. Seeing Midoriya again after everything. The weight of what I said. The weight of what I didn't say.

But here, with Hanta beside me, I feel... light.

He doesn't make me feel like I have to perform. I don't have to explain myself or figure myself out in front of him. He just listens. He lets me be.

And more than that, he stays.

He stayed even when I was cold. Even when I was distant. Even when I was difficult.

That matters more than I can put into words.

When he asked me to be his boyfriend, something sparked in me. Something small, but real. I hadn't thought of him like that before. Not seriously. But then Mina said something, and I started looking—really looking.

And I realized how beautiful he is.

Not just in the way he smiles or the way the sun hits his cheekbones just right, but in the way he listens, the way he gives his attention so freely, the way he cares.

He's kind. Patient. Gentle.

He never pushed me when I wasn't ready. Never made me feel like a burden. Instead, he offered to teach me Spanish—a piece of his culture—and I felt honored by that.

That's what made me want to try.

I want to be part of his world.

I want him to be part of mine.

I want to be good to him. I want to get this right.

Because I don't think I could stand it if I messed this up.

At some point, my eyes must've drifted shut, because when I opened them again, the building across from us was tilted sideways. It took me a moment to register the weight on my neck and the warmth under my cheek.

I was resting my head on Hanta's shoulder.

And he didn't move. He didn't say anything.

He just let me rest there.

When I tilted my head slightly to look up at him, he was staring out into the distance, eyes half-lidded, a small, dreamy smile tugging at his lips.

He looked peaceful.

And he felt... safe.

A smile crept onto my face without me noticing.

I turned my head back and let it rest on him again, closing my eyes, allowing the stillness to wrap around me like a blanket.

This was peace.

This was what it felt like to be held—without arms, without words.

I want more of this.

And I don't want to mess it up.

Not this time.

Not with him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

"Let's go, people! I want more power! More control!"

Aizawa's voice cracked like a whip across the thick summer air—raspy, worn, and commanding. It sliced through the layered soundscape of the training fields: the whir of quirks, the slam of bodies hitting earth, metal shrieking, trees trembling. The heat clung like a second skin, made worse by the brutal pace their teacher demanded.

The late afternoon sun hung low, molten and unforgiving, bleeding gold across the U.A. High outdoor training grounds. Long shadows stretched behind every movement, and each footfall on the cracked dirt left behind a ghost of effort.

This wasn't combat. This wasn't rescue training. It wasn't meant to dazzle or win crowd points.

This was discipline.

Power Management Day.

Focus. Precision. Mastery under pressure.

Each student had their own lane, their own trial. And they were all pushing the limits of what their quirks could do without slipping past the edge into recklessness.

Hanta Sero crouched low, spine tight with tension, knees bent like a coil about to spring. His breathing was shallow. Focused.

His tape hissed to life with a practiced flick of his wrists.

Two silver ribbons lashed forward, slamming through the air and coiling around a large jagged boulder lodged deep in the soil. It jutted from the earth like an ancient fossil, mean and immovable. His objective wasn't destruction. Aizawa had been very clear.

Move it. Don't break it.

Control the storm. Don't become it.

His muscles ignited with strain as he pulled. Arms shaking. Tape creaking. Every tendon in his body screamed from the effort. The heat made everything worse—his hands slick, sweat beading down his spine.

The rock didn't move. Not even a centimeter.

His jaw tightened.

"Come on..." he grit out through his teeth.

This wasn't just about training anymore. Not for him. Not today.

A week ago on patrol, he'd hesitated. A villain nearly slipped away. Someone nearly got hurt. He replayed it every night: his tape missing its mark, his instincts a second too slow. His legs rooted like concrete. Fear.

And shame.

And now? Now he had something more to prove. Not just to Aizawa, or to his classmates.

To himself.

And maybe—just maybe—to the boy across the field, who didn't seem to hesitate at all.

Sero yanked again.

The boulder groaned. Cracks webbed faintly across its base—but it didn't fall, didn't shift.

His tape snapped back. He let it recoil with a breathless curse, sweat flying from his brow as he staggered backward.

Still not enough.

Still not enough.

He dragged a hand through his damp hair and turned—

—and there he was.

Shoto Todoroki.

Twenty feet away, centered in his lane like a living storm. Fire coiled up his left arm, elegant and terrifying—a slow burn that hissed as it licked the air. At his feet, ice bloomed out like petals—delicate, controlled, stunning.

He moved with terrifying grace, like every molecule obeyed him before he spoke.

His eyes were calm. His posture perfect. Power wrapped him like a second skin.

Effortless. Deadly. Beautiful.

Sero's heart skipped.

"God, he's so damn pretty," he muttered under his breath, smiling despite himself.

And then—

"HEADS UP!"

The world snapped.

A blur in his peripheral vision. A shadow growing rapidly.

Sero spun.

A slab of concrete the size of a vending machine hurtled toward him like divine punishment. His instincts exploded—tape fired, legs flexed, body twisting midair as he launched himself backward. He hit the dirt hard in a three-point crouch, winded but intact.

A second later, the projectile slammed into the ground where he'd been standing.

BOOM.

A shockwave of sound rocked the area. Dust billowed like smoke from a cannon. Several students stopped mid-drill.

"SERO!"

He raised a hand as he coughed. "I'm good! Just had a brief out-of-body experience!"

From the edge of the dust cloud, a pale and panicked voice squeaked, "I—I didn't mean to! There was a mouse under the rock and I—I just wanted to save it—and then it slipped and—"

Sero blinked as Kouda sprinted over, his hands wringing with guilt.

"Whoa, dude. Breathe. I'm not pancake-shaped, am I?"

"But if you hadn't jumped—if you didn't notice—what if—"

"Hey," Sero interrupted, placing a reassuring hand on Kouda's trembling shoulder. "You saved a mouse. That's literally the most Kouda thing you could've done. And honestly? That's heroic as hell."

Kouda flushed crimson, smiling sheepishly.

Denki's voice rang out behind them, full of drama. "Sero out here tanking close calls like he's the main character! Bro's got protagonist powers!"

Kirishima cracked up, clapping his thigh. "That backflip? Man's auditioning for the Olympics."

Sero grinned, throwing his arms up like a victorious athlete. "What can I say? Tape agility, baby!"

His voice echoed across the training grounds, light and proud.

A wave of laughter rippled from the sidelines. Kaminari whooped, Kirishima pumped a fist in the air, and even Aizawa gave the tiniest upward tilt of his brow—a high compliment, by his standards.

Sero loped back toward the group, his pace casual, shoulders relaxed, the late afternoon sun catching the sweat glistening along his brow. He looked effortlessly alive—confident, radiant—like nothing in the world could touch him.

That easy, lopsided grin stretched across his face, the same one that made even the worst days feel a little lighter. He slapped palms with Kouda and immediately launched into a joke about nearly getting flattened, like dodging a half-ton boulder was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

Laughter broke out among the group.

But not everyone was laughing.

Across the field, Todoroki stood rigid, still as a statue, his breath caught somewhere between inhale and exhale.

His flames—normally flickering with steady, rhythmic pulses—barely stirred now, a whisper of heat curling at his fingertips before fizzling out. The ice at his feet, once controlled and precise, had retreated entirely. No neat formations. No sharp edges. Just a damp ring of frost melting away in the sun.

Outside, he was motionless.

Inside?

An all-out war.

He'd seen it—no, felt it—the second he heard his boyfriend's name being yelled, the second that training boulder was launched from the southern platform, angling too sharply, too fast. Even Aizawa's narrowed eyes had widened in alarm. It wasn't supposed to go in that direction. It wasn't supposed to almost hit Hanta.

But it had.

And in that moment, something primal had cracked inside him.

Not his quirk. Not his body.

His composure.

His heart had slammed against his ribs like it was trying to escape, fire roared hot and wild along his side, unbidden and uncontained, aching to lash out and burn—to stop the world, to save him.

But he hadn't moved.

Because Sero didn't need him.

Sero had handled it with grace, with precision. Like always. Like the threat had barely registered. One fluid pivot, a blast of tape, a swing of his legs, and he was safe. Laughing. Teasing. Effortless.

Like he hadn't just flirted with death.

Todoroki couldn't look away.

It wasn't just the dodge—though it had been clean, fast, almost reckless.

It was what came after.

The smile.

That damn smile.

So casual. So easy. Like nearly getting hit hadn't fazed him. Like danger bounced off him as naturally as sunlight. That wide, toothy grin as he patted Kouda's shoulder, as if brushing the moment off with laughter and warmth.

It should've comforted him. It should've made him breathe easier.

But it didn't.

It burned.

Because that smile—that smile—was his.

The same one Sero gave him when Sero gave him that hug, the same one when they were at the park, the same one when they started to hang out, the same one he would give when they were reading manga together. The one he saw when he spiraled, doubting his place, doubting his right to care or be cared for.

The same one after the drink incident...the same where they shared their first kiss...

The one that reminded him, quietly, insistently, that he was allowed to be loved.

That look. That warmth.

He thought it was his.

But now he was watching Sero give it to someone else. And it wasn't wrong. Sero was kind—unfailingly kind. Open-hearted. Generous. That's who he was.

Of course he'd share his light with everyone.

But Todoroki, selfishly, stupidly... didn't want to share.

He wanted to own that part of Sero.

Just for a little while.

Just for himself.

His stomach twisted, tight and hot. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging half-moons into his palms. A flicker of flame and ice danced against his fingertips. Beneath his boots, the earth hissed with creeping frost and seething fire.

It made no sense. They'd only just started dating.

Hours ago.

Not even a full day.

He told himself it was ridiculous. That it was nothing. That he was fine.

But his body told another story.

And in the pit of his chest, beneath the flame and frost, he felt something raw begin to unravel.

Then—

"Todoroki!"

His name sliced through the haze like a blade.

He flinched.

Momo's voice, sharp with worry. She jogged up to him, eyes scanning his face, her expression tight with concern. Tokoyami trailed behind her, silent but observant.

"You spaced out," Momo said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Aizawa's been calling you."

"I'm fine," Todoroki answered immediately, too fast, too flat.

Tokoyami squinted. "You are visibly unsettled. Emotionally compromised."

Todoroki met his eyes with an icy glare. " I'm fine."

Momo didn't move, didn't believe him. "You've been off since—"

"I said I'm fine," he snapped, this time sharp enough to cut the air between them.

And then he turned—because if he stayed, if they pressed, if they asked why—he wouldn't know what to say.

So he walked.

Stiff. Measured. Too fast. Too controlled.

It wasn't walking. Not really.

It was fleeing.

The next round of training started, and Todoroki threw himself into it like it owed him blood. His flames roared with unnecessary intensity, singeing the practice terrain. His ice came fast and jagged, erupting in sharp, angry spires that cracked under their own pressure. There was no elegance. No restraint.

Just force.

Just fire and fury and the desperate need to do something—anything—that didn't involve feeling.

Momo and Tokoyami watched from the sidelines.

"He's... different," Momo murmured.

Tokoyami crossed his arms, his voice low. "He's no longer running from his emotions. He's charging headfirst into them."

Momo gave a soft, wistful smile. "Or maybe... he's finally letting himself feel at all."

But Todoroki didn't hear them.

All he heard was Sero's laugh echoing in his mind.

All he saw was that hand, reaching to comfort Kouda.

The same hand that soothed the shaking in his chest. The same touch that steadied him when nothing else could.

He wanted to scream.

Don't do that. Don't risk yourself like that.

He wanted to plead.

Don't put yourself in danger. Not like that. Not where I can't reach you.

He wanted to beg.

Don't smile like that at anyone else. That's mine. Let it be mine.

But he said none of it.

Instead, he fought. Burned. Froze. Moved so fast that the world blurred.

Because if he stopped moving, stopped pushing, stopped fighting—he was afraid he'd break apart.

But no amount of power could erase what was clawing its way to the surface.

No amount of heat could burn away the jealousy or the fear or the yearning.

No amount of ice could numb it completely.

He knew better than anyone—

Emotions, once they thaw...

They don't go back to sleep.

They just demand to be felt.

And for the first time in his life, Shoto Todoroki was feeling everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Aw man! Training today got me feeling wrecked," Denki groaned, tossing his hero jacket into his locker with a dramatic flop. He yawned like he'd just fought ten villains single-handedly. "Why does Aizawa hate us again?"

Kirishima, already peeling off his sweat-soaked shirt, let out a low whistle. "Yeah, dude. I must've punched through like, forty rocks today. My arms are jelly."

"Pfft," Bakugou, who stood beside him, scoffed with that familiar superiority in his voice. "That's nothing, Shitty Hair. I smashed over a hundred. With one arm."

The locker room filled with the sound of teenage boys groaning, rolling their eyes, or chuckling. Kirishima just grinned and nudged Bakugou with his elbow, completely unfazed. "That's awesome, babe! Guess I better up my game, huh?"

Bakugou didn't say anything, but the smug smirk tugging at his lips said it all.

"Aww gross, get your gay shit outta here," Mineta muttered from the corner, his voice full of poorly disguised bitterness.

There was a pause.

"Ew, dude," Ojiro shot Mineta a disgusted look as he pulled on his hoodie.

"You're such a dick, Mineta," Sero added with a click of his tongue, slamming his locker closed a little harder than necessary.

Mineta opened his mouth to toss back some sleazy comment—until he noticed a looming presence directly in front of him.

Kirishima, now shirtless and full of post-workout adrenaline, stood towering over the smaller boy, his crimson eyes narrowed and lips stretched into a predator's grin. "What was that?"

Mineta froze. "I-I didn't mean it like that—"

"Because it sounded like you were disrespecting my relationship," Kirishima said with a calm intensity that sent shivers down everyone's spine. He cracked his knuckles slowly, flexing the muscles in his arms. "And if you were... I'd have to show you exactly how unmanly that kinda talk is."

Mineta turned ghost white.

"Holy crap," Denki whispered, snorting. "Haven't seen Kiri that pissed in weeks."

Sero laughed beside him, but as he turned, his amusement softened. He caught sight of Bakugou still changing silently, not even sparing Mineta a glance.

What surprised him most wasn't Bakugou's silence—it was the faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

That smile said everything.

And as Sero turned his head again, a different sight stole his breath altogether.

Todoroki, quiet as always, was finishing up getting dressed a few lockers down. His movements were slow, precise, delicate in a way that made everything around him feel... calmer. The sunlight from the small window above caught in his two-toned hair. His collar sat crisp over his shoulder, and as he adjusted his tie, Sero's heart stuttered a little.

God. Even just putting on a uniform, the guy looked like a damn prince.

A real-life fairytale prince.

Sero barely noticed Denki waving his hand in front of his face.

"Hellooo? Earth to Tape Arms?" Denki said in a sing-song tone.

Sero blinked and snapped back to reality. "Huh?"

"We asked if we're still on for dinner," Denki said, now fully dressed and tugging his hair into something less tragic. "Did you just black out mid-convo or—?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sero nodded. "Dinner, totally. I'm in."

But then Todoroki quietly slipped out of the locker room, and Sero jolted.

"I'll meet you guys at the dorms!" he called quickly, grabbing his bag and bolting for the door.

Denki blinked after him. "...What the hell?"

Shoji chuckled as he watched the flustered escape. "He's got it bad."

Bakugou tsked, slamming his locker shut with an eye roll. "Morons."

Behind them, Mineta was being shoved headfirst into the boys' trash can by Kirishima, with Sato and Ojiro cheering in the background.

Outside the changing room, the hallway buzzed with the usual post-training chatter, shoes squeaking against the polished floors, laughter echoing in the distance. But Sero wasn't listening to any of it. His eyes were scanning the crowd, searching for one person—and when they landed on the familiar figure just ahead, his lips curled into a smile.

There he was.

Todoroki, walking slightly ahead with his gym bag slung over his shoulder, his red and white hair tousled from the intense training session. He looked effortlessly cool, as always, but there was something about the slight tension in his shoulders that made Sero's smile soften with concern.

Still, he jogged to catch up.

"Roki!"

The younger boy slowed and turned at the sound of his voice. His mismatched eyes landed on Sero, and for a moment, something flickered in them—like relief. But it was quickly replaced by a carefully neutral expression.

"Hello, Hanta."

Sero blinked at the sudden shift. He didn't miss how formal his name sounded coming from Todoroki's lips, especially when just hours ago, that same voice had whispered it so sweetly against his neck.

Still, he kept his tone light. "Man, training today was something else, huh?"

"Yes," Todoroki replied curtly.

Sero chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Haven't pushed myself that hard in a while. My legs are screaming, dude."

"Mm."

"And that boulder Kouda accidentally loosened? That thing almost crushed me, but he looked more traumatized than I did," he added with a laugh.

At that, Todoroki's hands gripped the strap of his bag just a little tighter. He didn't flinch, didn't let it show in his voice—but Sero noticed. He always noticed.

"Right," Todoroki muttered, voice even.

Sero watched him for a moment, his usual smile faltering just slightly.

Something was wrong.

He thought for a second, then his face lit up again with a playful glint in his eyes. "But, y'know... I actually saw something way cooler than that almost-boulder-death."

Todoroki raised an eyebrow, still guarded. "Sure."

Before he could take another step, Sero moved in front of him, blocking his path with a smile that was softer now—less playful, more sincere. His voice dropped a little as he looked straight into those bi-colored eyes.

"I saw you."

Todoroki blinked. "...Huh?"

"I saw you being amazing out there, mi vida," Sero said, his voice warm, his words unhurried. "Seriously. You were like—elegant. And intense. And your moves? Flawless. Like watching a storm and a dance all at once."

Todoroki froze, caught completely off guard. The warmth that bloomed in his chest spread like sunlight through his limbs. Not the burning kind of warmth he was used to—the heat of pressure, or shame, or anger. This was different. This was gentle. Reassuring.

"You... were watching me train?" he asked, surprised, unsure how to take that.

Sero snorted. "Okay, don't make it sound creepy."

Todoroki blinked.

"Not just today," Sero continued, more seriously. "Whenever I'm feeling like I'm not good enough, or like I'm stuck... I look over at you. You move like someone who knows who they are. Someone strong. You make me want to push myself harder. To grow. So I can stand beside you without feeling like I'm always a step behind."

Todoroki didn't know what to say. He could feel his heart swelling with something he didn't know how to name—something achingly soft. He had spent so long believing he needed to be useful to be wanted, that his worth was tied to control, power, performance.

But here was Sero, seeing him not as a weapon—but as something beautiful.

For a moment, Todoroki couldn't speak. His throat felt tight. His fingers flexed slightly at his side like he didn't know what to do with them.

So Sero stepped forward, just a little, and kissed him. It wasn't rushed, wasn't intense. Just a simple, grounding press of lips. Just enough to say I'm here. You're okay.

When Sero pulled back, his smile was gentle.

"You're amazing, mi vida. Don't let today make you forget that."

Just like that, the weight Todoroki had been carrying all through training—the guilt, those negative warmth, the fear of failing someone, of failing himself, failing Sero—lifted.

Gone.

As if Sero had burned it all away with a single sentence.

Todoroki looked at him—really looked at him. The boy with the sunlit grin, the laugh that never ran out, the hands that knew how to hold things gently even in a world that wasn't. Sero was all warmth and open skies, all kindness and steady presence. And Todoroki, who had grown up in winter, didn't think he was supposed to deserve any of that.

But he wanted it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to Sero's cheek. His lips lingered for just a second, enough to feel the faint heat in Sero's skin, before he pulled back.

A smile tugged at his mouth—small, shy, and real. The kind of smile that didn't show up for just anyone. The kind of smile he only ever seemed to give Sero.

"You're amazing too, Hanta," he said, voice quiet like a secret.

Sero blinked, eyes wide in surprise, his cheeks flushing a vivid red. For a beat, he just stared, stunned into silence. And then he lit up like a sunrise, all soft laughter and glowing joy, as if Todoroki had handed him the whole damn moon.

"You..." Sero grinned, still a little breathless. "Wanna walk back to the dorms together?"

Todoroki glanced down, cheeks tinged pink now too. He nodded, but then hesitated for a breath. His voice was softer than before, almost unsure.

"Could we... maybe take the long way?"

Sero's heart nearly gave out. Todoroki wasn't usually like this—wasn't usually hesitant, wasn't usually hopeful. But something about the way he asked, his fingers brushing nervously against his own, made Sero want to take him in his arms and wrap him in every kind of comfort he knew.

Instead, he reached out and took Todoroki's hand gently, their fingers threading together with an easy kind of grace. He gave it a soft squeeze.

"Of course," he murmured.

They walked in unhurried silence, their joined hands swinging slightly between them. The moonlight painted silver lines along the path, and the cicadas hummed in the distance. They turned down a quieter side route, away from the main courtyard, where the world felt hushed and soft and just for them.

Todoroki's shoulders began to relax with each step. The silence wasn't awkward—not with Sero. It was peaceful, grounding. The kind of quiet that didn't press in, but held you gently.

He let the night air fill his lungs, let the warmth of Sero's hand seep into his bones.

And somewhere between the leaves rustling above and the soft rhythm of their footsteps, Todoroki realized something: maybe happiness wasn't a prize to be earned. Maybe it wasn't conditional. Maybe it could be simple.

Maybe it could look like this—fingers laced, the long way home, and someone who never asked him to be anything but himself.

And maybe... just maybe... he was starting to believe he was allowed to want it. Allowed to keep it.

Allowed to be cared for.

Notes:

Also I forgot they don't move classrooms, only the teachers do so for the math bit, just act like they're there for like partners or something because I completely forgot and didn't want to change it :)

Chapter 13: Food

Third Person POV:

The day had finally crawled to an end, dragging the exhausted bodies of Class 1-A back to their dorms like zombies returning to their crypts.

The sunset painted the sky in a warm orange hue, and the air buzzed with the quiet hum of the campus settling down. Inside the dorm building, everyone had scattered—some lounging in the dorm's gym, others disappearing into their rooms for well-earned rest, games, or doomscrolling on their phones.

Well, almost everyone.

The chaos hive mind known as the Bakusquad had converged on the kitchen like hungry vultures circling a kill. Currently, they were clustered around the large table, grumbling and bickering as they waited for Bakugou to finish making dinner. Originally, he'd only planned to cook for himself and his boyfriend—Kirishima—but then Denki got involved.

Of course Denki got involved.

"C'mon, bro, we're starving!" Denki had whined like a toddler on a long car ride. "Just add, like, four more portions! You're already cooking!"

Bakugou, already halfway through chopping vegetables, had growled low in his throat, but that wasn't the final blow.

It was the puppy eyes.

Kirishima had strolled in behind Denki, casually slinging his arm around the smaller blond and giving Bakugou that stupid, stupid look. Big red eyes, tilted head, slight pout—it was criminal.

Bakugou could resist everything except that face.

He hated how soft he got for Kirishima.

So now, there he was, frying up enough katsudon to feed an army, all while muttering death threats under his breath like a cartoon villain who secretly cared too much.

The others lounged at the table, awaiting their feast like kings. Mina had taken to scrolling through her phone while bouncing her leg impatiently. Kirishima leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head, smiling like this was a regular Friday hangout. Denki, on the other hand, was actively whining.

Again.

"Where is Sero? He was supposed to be here, like, an hour ago," Denki groaned, flopping face-first onto the table like his soul was leaving his body.

So much for peace.

Kirishima shrugged, stretching his arms behind his back with a small grunt. "I dunno, man. Last I saw, he and Todoroki were talking after training. I think I saw them head out together?"

Denki gasped. Loudly. "WHAT?!"

Mina blinked, finally looking up from her phone. "Wait... together together?"

Kirishima nodded slowly, brows raised in mild interest. "Looked like it. They were kind of deep in conversation. Real close, too."

Denki whimpered, rolling dramatically onto his side like he was dying of heartbreak. "I knew it. He's abandoning me. For romance."

Mina patted his back consolingly, though she was fighting back a grin. "He won't miss dinner, I promise. But if he's with Todoroki..."

Before Denki could spiral even further into his dramatics, an irritated grunt cut through the kitchen like a blade.

"What the hell are you whining about now?" Bakugou barked, slamming a pot onto the stove with a little more force than necessary.

Denki bolted upright, pointing an accusatory finger. "I miss my friend, okay?!"

Bakugou rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't fall out of his skull. "You see him every goddamn day, you clingy-ass barnacle."

Kirishima laughed under his breath. "He's not wrong."

"I just like it when the whole gang is here," Denki pouted. "So we can eat dinner together and make fun of Bakumom."

Bakugou froze. Slowly turned. His eyes narrowed.

"What. Did. You. Call me?"

Denki shrieked and ducked as Bakugou lunged for the nearest frying pan, lifting it like he was about to smite someone. Kirishima, laughing now, leapt between them like a red-haired shield.

"Babe! No homicide before dinner!"

"I'm gonna deep-fry his skull—"

"See?! He's missing all this chaos!" Denki yelped, hiding behind Mina as the pink-haired girl rolled her eyes.

"Idiots," she muttered affectionately.

As the boys continued their ridiculous scuffle, Mina stood from her seat, stretching with a yawn before she caught something—voices—coming from the other side of the dorm. Familiar ones.

She padded softly into the common room, fluffy slippers barely making a sound against the polished floors. The sun was dipping below the skyline outside, casting long golden beams through the tall glass doors. The world outside looked like it had been dusted in glittering amber.

Mina paused mid-step, her eyes locking onto the warm glow ahead—voices. Low and soft. Familiar.

She tiptoed closer, hugging the wall like she was a spy on a secret mission. She crouched low near the entryway to the elevator lobby and peeked around the corner.

Her heart nearly exploded.

There, bathed in the buttery gold of the setting sun, stood Sero and Todoroki.

Alone.

Close.

Facing each other, talking in low voices, completely wrapped up in one another like the entire building had melted away around them.

Sero had one hand tucked casually in his hoodie pocket, the other drifting loosely in the air as he spoke, like he was trying not to reach out too fast. Todoroki stood only a foot away, shoulders drawn slightly inward like he was shy—but not scared. Just careful.

"I hope you'll like what I have planned tomorrow, mi vida~" Sero said, his voice a silken drawl, soft and teasing, like a breeze cutting across warm summer pavement. That crooked smile of his—charming, lopsided, infuriatingly confident—curved just enough to make Todoroki's breath catch.

The setting sun behind them painted the world in molten amber, the light pouring through the common room windows like liquid honey. Everything felt slow, suspended, dreamlike.

Todoroki blinked, his lashes fluttering as he turned his face slightly—just slightly—his expression unreadable for half a second. But the blush climbing across his pale cheeks betrayed him, blooming like warm sunrise across snow.

"I'm sure I will," he murmured, his voice a low hush. "But... are you sure you want to do this? I can find another place if it's too much of a hassle. You don't need to go out of your way—"

"Roki," Sero cut in gently, taking one step closer. Not rushed. Not forced. Just enough to shorten the distance. "I asked you out first, remember?" His grin grew softer. "What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't follow through?"

He winked.

He winked.

Mina, hiding behind the wall of the entryway like she was on an undercover mission, slapped both hands over her mouth. Her entire spine went stiff, her knees threatening to buckle as her soul momentarily left her body. This was it. The romance. The slow burn. The quiet tenderness that made your heart ache and soar all at once.

And then—

It got worse.

No. Better.

Sero—cool, calm, casual Sero—reached forward and gently took Todoroki's hand. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like holding Todoroki's hand was a privilege, not an expectation. He raised it slowly, reverently, and pressed a kiss to the back of it—so soft, it was almost like he feared it might break him if he tried any harder.

"Mi vida," he whispered, breath warm against Todoroki's knuckles. "I want to do this."

Todoroki's eyes widened slightly, his breath hitching, his fingers twitching faintly in Sero's grasp. A laugh—small, stunned, delighted—escaped him, like it had been caught behind his teeth all day and only now found the courage to break free. His lips lifted in the faintest, crooked smile. His ears were glowing.

"Hanta..."

Sero grinned wider, but his voice dropped lower, more intimate. "We'll slip out when everyone's distracted. You know how Kaminari and Bakugou get during game night—they won't even notice we're gone."

Mina's heart twisted just a bit. Not in sadness, exactly—but in the ache of watching something so precious be tucked away in secret. 'Why hide?' she thought. 'You two are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. People would scream.'

Todoroki looked down, thumb brushing lightly over Sero's fingers. "That's not what I'm worried about," he said, almost too softly to hear. "I just... I don't want to be too much. It's only been a day. And I—"

Sero kissed him.

Not a dramatic, sweeping kiss. Not loud, or desperate.

It was a whisper.

A soft, quiet press of lips—honest and pure and full of affection. Like a promise. Like a starting point.

Mina squeaked. She didn't mean to. It just happened, a tiny hiccup of joy that slipped past her tightly clamped hands. She immediately slammed herself flat against the wall, barely breathing.

When she dared to peek again, Todoroki stood frozen. Eyes wide. Lips parted just slightly. He looked like someone had painted the sunset across his face. He looked like someone who had just been given something.

And from his left shoulder—

A flicker.

Just a flicker of flame, there and gone.

Mina. Saw. Everything.

'Oh he is so  love.'

"You were rambling, Roki," Sero said softly, reaching out and brushing a lock of white hair behind Todoroki's ear. His fingers lingered there—barely, but enough.

Todoroki's eyelids fluttered. "Oh."

"It'll be fine," Sero murmured, with a warmth that wrapped around every word like a hug. "I've got you."

Mina melted.

She melted.

Not in a dramatic, fangirl kind of way—no, this was real. This was watching her best friend finally get what he deserved. Watching love take root in real time. The good kind. The kind that didn't come with secret pain or second-guessing or holding back because you're afraid of what might happen if you're truly seen.

Her best friend—goofy, loyal, brave Sero—was finally with his crush. The boy with the ice and fire. The boy who wore silence like armor. The boy who felt too much and said too little.

And now?

He was being loved out loud.

Softly. Gently. Real. No pretending. No performing. No fear.

This wasn't a crush. This wasn't a passing moment. This was the kind of love that makes the seasons change in your chest. Like spring had finally come and decided to stay.

Mina clutched her chest and sank slowly to the floor like she'd been emotionally shot. She couldn't be more proud. Or happier. Or nosier.

Todoroki looked up then, his voice tentative, barely above a whisper. "I apologize."

Sero tilted his head, concern creeping in. "For what?"

"For being... like this." Todoroki gestured vaguely to himself with both hands, as if his entire existence were something to be ashamed of.

Sero's brow furrowed. He reached out, thumb brushing the edge of Todoroki's jaw, anchoring him back to the moment. "You're perfect, mi vida," he said, gently but with conviction. "I asked you because I wanted to. Don't overthink it."

The way Todoroki looked at him then—like Sero was some precious thing he'd stumbled across and didn't quite know how to hold without breaking—made Sero's chest tighten.

"...Okay," Todoroki whispered, and the word seemed to carry the weight of a thousand walls finally lowering.

Sero's face lit up—not with his usual smug charm, but something softer. Brighter. Warmer. A joy that started in his chest and made its way all the way up to his eyes. He cupped Todoroki's cheek, his thumb resting beneath the corner of his eye, and Todoroki leaned into the touch like it made him feel human again.

Then—

That familiar flicker of doubt crossed Todoroki's expression again.

His lips parted, voice shy but brave.

"Mi vida?" Sero asked, catching the shift.

"I... wanted to ask if you'd... have dinner with me."

It came out like he was handing over a piece of his heart and hoping it wouldn't be dropped. Like every syllable had been sanded down by overthinking.

Sero blinked. And then he laughed—softly, kindly, like a wave of sunlight washing over both of them.

"Oh, mi vida... you're too cute."

Todoroki blinked, confused. "...Cute?"

"Sí, mi vida." Sero smiled, and then—without warning—booped Todoroki's nose. "You were so nervous. You really thought I'd say no to dinner? Roki, I'd say yes to microwaved rice with you."

Todoroki's face flushed a dramatic, delicious shade of red. "I—I wasn't sure if—"

Sero leaned in and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'd love to have dinner with you."

And Todoroki just stood there. Stunned. Wide-eyed. Buffering like a computer running on bad Wi-Fi. His mouth opened slightly like he had something to say, but no words made it out.

"Wanna eat here or sneak out?" Sero asked casually, already pulling out his phone.

"I..." Todoroki glanced at the clock, then out at the evening sky now glowing deep orange. "Those... empan... empanadas?"

Sero blinked, then grinned. "Empanadas? You remembered?"

Todoroki nodded, very solemn. "I liked them. The ones you gave me with the sauce... thing."

"That 'sauce thing' was chimichurri," Sero said, hand over his heart. "And now I have to marry you."

Todoroki stared, blinking once. "I accept."

Sero choked, half-laugh, half-sputter, thumb fumbling across his screen as he tried not to drop his phone. "R-Roki. You can't just say stuff like that."

"I can't?"

Sero looked at him like he was seconds away from melting into a puddle. "You can. You absolutely can. But I need warning. A buffer. A warm-up lap or something."

Todoroki tilted his head, almost confused. "Noted."

Sero was still giggling as he opened the app. "I'll order them. You want the beef or chicken?"

"I can pay," Todoroki said quickly. "I don't want you—"

"Mi vida~" Sero sing-songed, already scrolling. "It's my treat. You're the date, not the debit card."

Todoroki let out a long breath but didn't argue. There was something new in his eyes now—ease. Trust. The tension that usually clung to his shoulders like a second skin was... lighter.

His fingers twitched like he was thinking of reaching for Sero again but didn't know if it was allowed.

"You can pick the show," Sero said.

"One Punch Man."

"Of course you'd pick something with an overpowered bald guy."

"You owe me," Todoroki said with a straight face, that tiny glimmer of dry humor only people close to him ever got to see. "You made me watch Fruits Basket. Twice."

"It was the season finale!"

"I cried both times," Todoroki muttered, already turning toward the hallway.

Sero watched him walk, completely spellbound. The way Todoroki moved—controlled but soft, strong but deliberate—was like watching a poem walk away. His hair shimmered in the last spill of sunset: fire and frost tangled together.

At the elevator, Todoroki paused. Looked over his shoulder.

"Call me when it's here," he said, voice calm but undeniably warm. "I'll get my room ready."

And then—ding. The elevator doors slid shut.

Sero stood completely still. Just for a second.

Then he exhaled, every ounce of adrenaline catching up to him.

He placed a hand over his chest and whispered, only to the golden light and the electric drumbeat of his heart:

"Soy el tipo más afortunado del mundo."

(I'm the luckiest guy in the world.)

And then—

"Wow."

Sero froze.

His soul briefly detached from his body.

He turned—painfully slowly—and saw Mina standing at the hallway entrance like she'd just caught the plot twist of the decade. Her arms were crossed, her eyes were wild, and her mouth was stretched into a Joker-level grin.

Beside her was Kirishima, who gave a very chill thumbs-up... but there was no hiding the smug twinkle in his eyes either.

"W-when did you—how long were you—" Sero's voice cracked like a dropped plate. "H-how much did you hear?"

Kirishima grinned. "Mina heard everything. I caught the grand finale."

Mina took a single step forward, eyes glowing. "You kissed his hand."

Sero opened his mouth.

"You booped his nose."

He raised a hand in surrender.

"You said 'microwaved rice,' SERO!"

Sero was already spiraling. "I can explain—"

"No need," Kirishima said kindly. "It was adorable."

Mina stormed over, grabbed Sero by the wrist, and dragged him to the common area like a woman possessed.

"You're telling me everything. Now. From the start. I want a timeline, dialogue, inner thoughts, emotional subtext—I want the director's cut, Sero!"

"Can I order my empanadas first—?"

"NO."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

I fucked up.

No, seriously. I really fucked up.

Ay carajo, what the hell is wrong with me?

( Oh fuck)

I should've known. I should've known that those two chismosos besties of mine would be eavesdropping like their lives depended on it, like they had front-row seats to the season finale of some telenovela-level drama and they were on the edge of their damn seats.

And me?

I basically walked in, handed them snacks, and gave a dramatic monologue with commercial breaks included.

Idiota.

And now?

Now I've officially broken the very first relationship rule Roki and I set—before we've even been on a real date.

Dios mío...

Todoroki's going to be pissed.

Quietly. Politely. Dead-eyed and judgmental in that way only he can pull off. Which, honestly, is worse than Bakugo yelling.

Oh yeah. I told them.

I told everything.

Now you might be wondering: "Why didn't you just keep your mouth shut? Tell them to back off?"

And to that I say: have you ever met Mina Ashido?

That girl is like a chisme-seeking missile in pink platforms. She has the tenacity of a toddler on a sugar high and the instincts of an abuela on the porch who just saw her neighbor's cousin's boyfriend sneaking around. She knows when something's up.

You tell her "it's nothing," and she narrows her eyes like you just spit in her cafecito and personally offended her tia's honor.

And Kirishima?

That red-haired saboteador betrayed me with a grin and said he'd tell Denki. Denki. The physical embodiment of an accidental Twitter leak. If that boy hears even a whiff of gossip, the entire dorm will know within thirty minutes—including PowerPoint slides, reaction gifs, and emoji commentary.

I had three choices:

A. Spill the beans.

B. Face Mina's wrath and Kirishima's emotional warfare.

C. Watch my brand-new love life turn into UA Drama Club presents: The Shoto Situation, starring me as the idiot boyfriend.

So yeah. I picked survival. Sue me.

And honestly? Deep down?

I wanted to tell them.

I wanted to scream it from the rooftops. I wanted to shout it from the observation deck and blast it through Present Mic's megaphone:

"I'm dating Shoto Todoroki, you jealous punks!"

I mean... come on. The boy is gorgeous. He's elegant, kind, surprisingly snarky, and—get this—he laughs at my jokes. Do you know how rare that is?

But more than that?

He's mine. And that's terrifying.

Because I know Roki. I know the quiet way he stiffens when people look at him too long. I know how he flinches at gossip even if it isn't about him. How he holds his past like a burn scar no one's allowed to touch. His last relationship got dissected like a science experiment. Every moment of it became public property.

He swore he'd never do that again. Swore he'd keep things quiet, safe.

I promised him I'd help.

And then I blabbed.

Soy tan tonto...

( I'm so stupid)

I let out a long, dramatic sigh and slumped forward against the kitchen counter, forehead smooshed against a cabinet door like maybe, just maybe, my ancestors could send me guidance through the wood grain.

That's when a voice broke through my spiral.

"Um... sir? It's ¥ 3021.81?"

I turned my head slowly. The poor delivery guy stood there like he'd walked into a therapy session he didn't sign up for, holding my bag of salvation like it was a peace offering from the heavens.

"Oh—shit! Sorry!" I fumbled for my wallet, trying not to drop it with how bad my hands were shaking. "Here, keep the change, bro."

He nodded, mumbled thanks, and practically sprinted out the stairs..

Fair.

I closed the door behind him and inhaled deeply.

Ay, gracias a todos los santos.

( Oh, thank all the saints)

Empanadas. Warm, flaky, meat-filled joy. Todoroki's new obsession, after I introduced them during lunch. I also got Lomo Saltado because it's comfort food wrapped in soy sauce and memories of my mom yelling at me to finish my homework. And yeah—I ordered fajitas, too.

Don't judge me.

My goal is to slowly introduce Roki to my heritage until he's asking my abuela for her arroz con pollo recipe by name.

One day at a time.

Bag in hand, I tiptoed out like a cartoon burglar, praying no one saw me.

Foolish. Foolish hope.

"YO, Sero! What's up, man?" Denki called out from the couch, half of his body already tangled in controller cords while Sato yelled something about button spamming.

I paused. Shit.

"Uh... just dinner," I mumbled, trying to physically fold myself into a smaller shape.

"Bakugo cooked," Denki said. "It wasn't that bad this time."

"Yeah, well, I like living dangerously," I replied, inching toward the exit.

Denki squinted. "Is that chicken? I smell chicken."

Before I could deflect with something clever, I heard it:

"Hanta?"

Boom.

Everything in my body stilled.

I turned and—ay Dios—there he was.

Roki.

Hair still slightly damp from the shower, loose red sweater slipping off one shoulder like a sin, black joggers hugging those long legs, and a sleepy kind of softness to his eyes like he'd just wandered out of a dream and straight into my life.

"Hey, Roki—"

"Did you pay for that?"

Bruh. We're starting there?

I scratched the back of my neck, giving him my most charming Sero smile. "Yeah, but it's no big—"

His eyes flicked downward. His jaw set, like he was holding back something. Then, softer, with that quiet disappointment that kills me every time:

"...Why didn't you let me pay?"

My heart twisted.

"I just—" I held up the bag like an offering. "I wanted to. I got stuff for us to try. I thought we could eat together."

He blinked at it, then leaned in to peek, curiosity breaking through the frost. His nose wrinkled a little—adorably, unfairly—like a suspicious cat inspecting a new box.

"Did you order extra?"

"Yup. Tried to guess what you'd like. Got a little of everything."

And then—I saw it. The tiniest twitch of his lips. The barest hint of a smile. Barely there, but real.

Then—

"Can we have some?" Denki asked, suddenly way too close to the bag like a raccoon about to commit a crime.

"You just ate," I hissed, clutching the food tighter.

"But that smells so good," he whined, literally sniffing the air like a cartoon dog.

"Esta es mi comida, perra."

( This is my food bitch)

Dead silence.

Denki and Sato blinked.

I felt the soft swat on my arm before I even turned.

"Hanta," Todoroki said flatly.

Right. I might have taught him Spanish curses the first week he asked for tutoring.

For "context."

"What? It is," I mumbled.

Todoroki sighed and turned to the others. "Sorry, Kaminari. Sato. I don't think we have enough for everyone."

Like a blessing, Mina appeared out of nowhere with jazz hands and energy that belonged on Broadway.

"Let them be~" she sang, sliding in between us and the others. "Let Shoto-baby have our Sero all to himself tonight."

I gave her a side-eye. She winked.

Traitor.

"Come on, Roki," I said, turning toward the elevator.

He nodded, quiet and polite, saying goodnight to everyone like a damn prince.

As I hit the button, I felt hands slam into my back.

"WHAT THE—"

"Have fun with your boyfriend~" Mina whispered, giggling like a goblin as she pranced away.

"You're evil," I called after her.

"And you're whipped," she cackled back.

I turned to fire a comeback but then—he was beside me again.

Mi vida.

Calm. Steady. Standing just close enough that our arms brushed.

And somehow, all the noise in my head—my guilt, my nerves, my doubts—just... stilled.

Just one quiet breath from him, and I felt grounded again.

We stepped into the elevator.

He didn't speak.

He didn't have to.

I glanced over.

He was looking at the bag in my hands like it held not just food, but a promise.

Maybe it did.

And damn it—if I had to confess my sins to every chismoso in this dorm, survive Mina's relentless interrogation tactics, and fend off food bandits just to make him smile like that again?

Vale la pena.

(It's worth it)

Every. Single. Time.

I glanced at him again. That rare, tiny smile was still hovering on his lips, like it wasn't used to being out in public.

God, I wanted to protect that smile like it was my duty. Like it was my purpose. Screw being a pro hero—this was the real mission.

I cleared my throat, trying not to be dramatic about it. "You ready?"

"Yes," he said, simple and solid like always.

We headed toward the elevator, and just as I pressed the button, Mina popped back into view like she'd been waiting in the wings of a stage play.

She fluttered her fingers in a fake goodbye wave. "Remember what we talked about~"

What did we talk about?

...Oh. Right.

Respect his boundaries. Don't be an idiot. Don't let him spiral into overthinking. And under no circumstances should I initiate cuddling until given the green light.

Got it.

The elevator doors slid shut with a ding, and silence wrapped around us. A rare thing in this building.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

"Is she always like that?" Roki asked, almost dry but curious.

I barked a laugh. "Mina? Absolutely. Hug ambushes, sneak attacks, chaotic good energy. Emotional terrorism dressed in pink lip gloss. That's our girl."

"...She's very touchy."

That made me pause. His tone wasn't accusing, but something in it was... tight. A little restrained.

I turned slightly, eyeing him. His face was calm, but I knew that calm—he wore it like armor. There was something else simmering under the surface, something unsure.

The elevator chimed. We stepped off onto his floor, the quieter one, less foot traffic.

Just before we reached his room, he stopped.

"Hanta?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitated like the words were foreign in his mouth, like he had to translate them from thought to language.

"You always say we should communicate."

"I do," I said gently.

He looked down, almost shyly, then back up—right into my eyes. Unwavering. Honest. Beautifully direct.

"I don't like when Mina jumps on your back. Especially after training. It bothers me."

I blinked.

Wait. Was this—? Was he...?

Jealous?

My brain lagged, the gears catching up slowly like I was buffering in real life.

"Oh," I said, stupidly. "Okay."

Okay?

That was all I had?

I expected him to get defensive, but instead, he crossed his arms—not angrily, more like he was guarding something fragile.

"It's not logical," he said carefully, "but it still... bothers me."

And there it was.

It wasn't just about Mina. It wasn't possessive in the toxic, macho way. It was protective. Caring. Observant.

He remembered how my back always ached after patrols. He noticed when I limped a little from impact landings today. And the idea of someone—even a friend—jumping on me afterward made him...uncomfortable.

Because I was his.

Because he liked me in his own quiet, calculated way.

I felt a grin crawl up my face, warm and full.

I stepped closer, closing the space between us. "Mi vida?"

"Hm?"

I dipped my voice lower, teasing just a little. "Noted. And just so you know—the only one allowed to jump on me is you."

He blinked. Slowly.

"...I have no intention of jumping on you."

I burst out laughing, and maybe it was the sheer sincerity in his tone, or the deadpan confusion in his face, but it made my chest ache in the best way.

"I know, cariño. I know."

( Dear)

He sighed, muttering under his breath as he pulled out his keys. "I still don't understand."

"You don't have to," I said softly. "You just have to know that I heard you."

The door opened, and instantly we were hit with the subtle, cozy smell of vanilla. It was so him—warm, understated, soothing. Like the kind of comfort you didn't know you needed until it wrapped around you.

"Damn," I murmured. "Your room smells like a candle shop and therapy."

He flicked on the light, and I flinched. "Ah, mi retina! The betrayal!"

My vision adjusted, and I blinked a few times before taking it in fully.

His room was clean. Minimalist. Sleek. Somehow bigger than mine? Was that a trick of the lighting or some Todoroki privilege?

He glanced around, frowning. "Sorry for the mess. I'll clean it up."

I blinked at him. "Bro, what mess? Your bed has like... two pillows out of place."

"That is the mess," he replied seriously, already walking toward it.

I chuckled and dropped the bag of food on his desk. "You're wild. Anyway—what episode are we on?"

"Twelve."

"Oh! Finale of season one. Perfect," I said as I started unpacking our food. "That means I get to feed you good food and emotionally wreck you at the same time."

He glanced over. "Sounds dangerous."

I grinned. "Danger's my middle name."

He didn't laugh, but I saw the tiniest twitch in his cheek.

The rich smell of empanadas, sautéed peppers, and seasoned meat filled the room like a spell. I sighed, leaning into it.

"Esto huele muy delicioso~"

"'Smells ok?" he guessed, already peeking over my shoulder.

"Close," I said, handing him the empanadas, the paper bag warm against my fingers. "It means it smells delicious."

Todoroki looked down at the golden pastries like they were relics, like he was holding something too sacred to touch. His eyes widened slightly, shimmering with something soft and quiet, and his lips parted just a little.

And then—he bowed.

He bowed.

My heart tripped over itself.

I stood there for a second, stunned. My brain short-circuited. He had just treated my cooking like it deserved a shrine. I was two seconds away from blushing into another dimension.

I shook my head, half-laughing, hopelessly smitten. "Roki, you don't have to—"

But he was already turning, carrying the bag like it was fragile and precious, and walked over to the coffee table where his laptop sat waiting. I gathered my own food and drink, trying to slow my racing heart, and joined him on the floor.

We settled side by side, shoulders touching lightly. Not enough to crowd. Just enough to feel each other's warmth.

And then—

Crunch.

The soft sound of him taking that first bite of empanada.

Hum.

That low, warm little noise in the back of his throat—the kind of hum that tells you someone's body just sighed in satisfaction. The kind that said: this makes me happy.

That was it. That sound. That's what I wanted.

Every time.

I smiled and typed up on the laptop. "One Punch Man, coming right up."

As the episode loaded, the room flickered with golden tones, the kind that warmed the walls and caught the edge of his cheekbone in a soft, cinematic glow. I stood up to flip off the lights, plunging the room into gentle darkness, lit only by the laptop screen.

Mood: set.

When I sat back down, I scooted a little closer. Our knees brushed.

He didn't move away.

"Hey, Roki," I whispered.

He looked at me mid-chew, brows slightly raised.

I gave him a soft, sincere smile. "You ever think maybe... this is the part where we let ourselves be happy?"

He stared at me for a long moment, eyes searching mine.

Then, quietly—vulnerably—he said: "I'm trying."

God, that was enough to undo me. No grand declarations. Just effort. Just honesty.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, suddenly nervous, but determined.

Tonight... tonight was Romantic Sero Time. Even if I had to chisel the affection out of this beautiful emotionally-repressed snowflake with every loving word.

I leaned in slightly, just about to drop a teasing line, when he beat me to it.

"Hanta?"

"Yeah?" I turned toward the sound of his voice, still glowing from the taste of the empanada he'd just devoured. That hum of his was still echoing in my ears.

"There's something that's been on my mind... and I wanted to ask."

That made me pause.

His voice—it wasn't sharp or measured like usual. It was quiet. Honest. And that meant it was serious.

I adjusted my seat on the floor, giving him my full attention. "What is it?"

He didn't look at me at first. Just stared down at the glowing laptop screen in front of us, the anime forgotten for a moment. Then:

"Why didn't you tell me about your feelings... at the coffee shop?"

Oh.

My heart skipped.

That... was not where I thought this conversation was going.

He kept speaking, soft but direct, like every word was measured and weighted just enough to matter.

"You said you liked me since the sports festival. So when we were alone—just us—at the café... why didn't you say anything?"

I blinked. He remembered that?

The café. The cozy booth. The way he stirred his tea in perfect circles while I panicked over every word I said.

"I..." I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. "I didn't know if you liked me that way. I didn't want to ruin anything. And to be honest? I kinda freaked out and chickened out."

His brow furrowed. "Then why did you say it was your 'Sero-ness' that made me feel those things?"

God, he really did remember. That stupid, lazy excuse I gave him when I deflected. I thought he'd brush it off. But this was Todoroki. He doesn't forget the things that matter.

"I didn't know how else to explain it," I confessed. "You're... not easy to read, Roki. And I didn't want to say something that'd make you uncomfortable. I thought if I just made it into a joke, it'd be easier."

He was quiet. Watching me. I couldn't tell if I'd hurt him or if he was just processing it all, but that silence was heavy. Familiar. The same kind that used to follow a sudden frost crawling across the arena floor.

Except this time, I wasn't scared of it.

This time, I understood it better.

Because I'd spent enough time with him now to realize the silence wasn't ice—it was vulnerability, unwrapped. A soft thing trying not to flinch.

"I understand," he said finally. His voice was gentle. Careful. Fragile in a way I didn't think he let himself sound very often.

"I know I don't show much. I know people think I'm... cold. Harsh. Distant."

He hesitated, like even saying it out loud was hard. Like naming it gave it weight.

"But I feel things. A lot of things. I just don't always know what to do with them."

My chest ached. That honesty—it knocked the air out of me.

No one taught him how to do this. How to say what he felt, or even recognize it. Everything he'd been through—the expectations, the silence of his childhood, the fear of being too much or not enough—it all curled up in his shoulders when he spoke.

I moved closer. Just enough that our knees brushed, and he didn't pull away.

"Roki..." I whispered, my voice just for him. "You're not cold. You're just careful. And that's not a bad thing."

He blinked, slow. Like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to believe that yet.

So I kept going, words spilling gently like water and smoothing over stone.

"You've always been kind to me. Even before you knew me well. You listened when I talked about random things—like tape physics or those late-night hero theory rants. You came to my match when I thought no one would show. You helped me study, even when it clearly bored you to tears. You noticed when I looked tired, when I skipped meals."

I smiled softly. "You always notice."

His expression flickered—subtle, but full of quiet surprise. Like no one had ever told him that was a good thing before.

I reached out, gently tilting his chin up until his eyes met mine. Eyes like stormclouds and blue with grey—clear, intense, searching.

"I don't like you just because you're attractive," I added, my voice teasing but sincere. "Though... obviously. You are."

A flicker of something—amusement? Bashfulness?—tugged at the corner of his lips.

"But I like you because you care. Even when it's quiet. Even when no one sees it. You care so much, mi vida. And yeah... maybe I didn't say anything sooner because I didn't want to risk what we had. But I should've trusted you."

He stared at me like he was watching the sun rise for the first time. Like I was saying things he never imagined someone would say to him.

I couldn't stop myself. I leaned in, hand rising to cup his cheek. He tensed—just for a breath—but then melted under my touch, his jaw softening, his eyes half-lidding.

I brushed my thumb along his cheekbone. Warm. Solid. Real.

And then I kissed him.

Slow. Intentional. No jokes. No flashy words or silly flirting.

Just me, and him, and the quiet certainty that I wanted him. That I chose him.

When I began to pull away, I felt him hesitate—then surge forward, cupping my face in his hands and kissing me back, deeper this time. Still gentle, but with a sudden urgency, like something inside him had cracked open and spilled light.

His fingers trembled against my cheeks. I could feel the heat rising between us—not just metaphorical. Little wisps of flame curled in his hair, like his heartbeat couldn't be contained.

When we finally parted, he was breathless. His face was flushed like a summer sunset.

"I—I'm sorry," he said quickly, looking down. "That might've been too much. I didn't mean to—"

"Hey," I whispered, smiling so wide my cheeks ached. "That was perfect."

He peeked up at me, still pink in the ears.

"You don't think I was being... too forward?"

I laughed, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. "Mi vida, you could kiss me twenty more times and I'd still ask for twenty more after that."

He stared at me like I was some puzzle he was slowly figuring out—his expression caught somewhere between awe and confusion.

"I will never understand your teasing."

"That's okay," I said as I tugged him in, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and resting my cheek against the top of his head. His hair smelled like cedar and warm spice. "You don't have to understand it. You just have to let yourself enjoy it."

He hesitated. Just a second.

And then he exhaled and leaned into me. Like he was letting himself fall.

His head settled against my shoulder, his body warm and solid beside mine. And after a quiet beat, his fingers found mine again—this time more confidently. He laced them together like he wanted to be held.

Like he belonged there.

My heart squeezed so tight I thought it might burst. I let out a happy little sigh and reached for one of his empanadas, popping it into my mouth.

"That was mine," he mumbled, but there was a tiny smile curling on his lips.

"Boyfriend tax," I said proudly, chewing.

He tilted his head. "There's a tax?"

"There's a handbook," I replied, grinning. "Section four, paragraph three. Boyfriend tax includes snacks, kisses, and claiming the warmest blanket."

He hummed like he was trying to figure out if I was joking. (I was. Sort of.)

The laptop screen flickered as One Punch Man continued in the background. Something exploded on screen, but I barely noticed.

Because right now, none of that mattered.

All I felt was him—warm, real, soft against me.

His fingers curled around mine.

His head resting on my shoulder.

His breath slow and even.

In this room, in the gentle dark, with crumbs on our plates and warmth between us—

I had him.

And what was even better?

He let himself be had.

No armor. No retreat. No ice.

Just Shoto.

Letting himself be held.

Letting himself be loved.

And I swore, right then and there, I'd keep holding him—again and again—for as long as he'd let me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

After the couple finished their anime marathon—or, more accurately, talked through half the episode and laughed through the rest—they lingered in that cozy post-show haze. The laptop screen glowed dimly on the coffee table, the air was warm with the smell of leftover snacks, and the soft buzz of shared comfort filled the room.

They didn't move at first, just sat close, knees brushing, laughing quietly. Sero, of course, kept up a steady stream of low-key flirting. Half jokes, half compliments, all aimed at drawing little reactions from his boyfriend.

Most of the time, Todoroki didn't even realize Sero was flirting until it was too late—until his ears went pink, his voice caught slightly in his throat, and his eyes darted away like he'd just been accused of a crime.

Sero thought it was adorable. Every time Todoroki's face got hot, every time he furrowed his brows like he was trying to solve the mystery of his own blush, Sero felt his heart squeeze.

He never teased to make fun. He just liked seeing him feel. And maybe, just maybe, he liked being the one to pull that feeling out.

Now, the two were tidying up the aftermath of their cozy hangout. Empty soda cans, crumpled napkins, and the remains of too many snacks were being gathered and shoved into the trash.

"Wow, Roki, that fight between Saitama and Boros? I swear, that would've had you jumping out of your seat if you were, y'know... the jumping type," Sero joked, grinning over his shoulder.

Todoroki blinked, then gave him a small, soft smile. "It's my favorite."

"Good taste," Sero said, chuckling. "I loved when Terrible Tornado flung those rocks down like she was flicking gnats. Badass."

Todoroki hummed in agreement. He walked over to where Sero was tying off the garbage bag, and paused. He hesitated, hands hovering by his sides. He wanted to show affection—maybe reach out and brush Sero's arm, maybe lean in a little closer—but a memory surged up before he could act.

A memory he didn't ask for.

Flashback

Midoriya collapsed onto his bed with a dramatic thud, burying his face into the pillow like the world itself had drained him dry. His chest rose and fell heavily, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and I could practically feel the exhaustion radiating off of him.

I understood that feeling too well. Training days like today left every muscle aching, every breath heavier than the last. I’d felt it in my own bones many times.

I closed my notebook, setting it aside, and quietly rose to my feet. My movements didn’t stir him, but I could see the way his shoulders rose and fell unevenly, the faint tremor in his hands from pushing himself too far again.

He stretched with a yawn that looked more painful than satisfying, and before I could think twice, I sat down beside him. The mattress dipped slightly, enough that he turned his tired gaze toward me. His eyes, still bright even in exhaustion, met mine.

“Do you want me to make you something?” I asked, softly, the words careful, as if they might break him further if spoken too loud.

He gave me a small, strained smile and shook his head. “No thank you. I’m just… really tired.”

The corners of my mouth threatened to turn down, but I caught myself and nodded. “Do you want me to put something on the TV? Something light?”

He chuckled softly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m kinda too tired to focus on anything right now, Sho.”

“Ah,” I said simply, and the silence settled between us again. Not uncomfortable, but heavy with everything unsaid.

He curled a little under his blanket, small in a way he never let himself look during the day. I knew what weighed on him—the endless need to prove himself, the shadow of All Might, the constant burden of carrying more power than anyone his age should have. It was written all over his body, the tension in his limbs, the fog in his eyes.

And I wanted… to make it lighter somehow.

My hand moved almost on its own, brushing against his arm before resting there. Not squeezing, just holding.

His head shot up instantly, cheeks pink, voice stuttering: “Sho?”

“Yes?” My voice betrayed me with its uncertainty.

“What are you doing?”

I hesitated, remembering Kaminari’s offhand comment from earlier that week, his grin far too wide as he explained it like it was common knowledge. “I heard couples do this thing called cuddling,” I admitted plainly. My face warmed, though my expression stayed neutral. “I think I’m doing it right?”

Midoriya blinked rapidly, laughter bubbling out awkwardly. “O-Oh, that’s… nice, Todoroki, but um… I don’t think—”

“Am I doing it wrong?”

“I-I—”

“Maybe this way.” I shifted carefully, sliding an arm around his waist, experimentally letting my feet tangle with his. I wasn’t sure why I thought that might help, but it seemed logical.

He squeaked—actually squeaked—flailing slightly. His reaction was so sudden it startled me.

“How about now?” I asked, tilting my head, trying to measure if this felt right.

“T-Todoroki?”

“Yes?”

“C-Could you please… *cough*, um… let go?”

The request landed heavier than it should have. Something inside me dropped. My hand slipped away immediately, the warmth between us replaced by a cool ache in my chest. “Oh.”

I untangled myself slowly. He scrambled upright, sucking in air like he’d been drowning, his face burning.

“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, my voice barely audible. I hadn’t meant to push, but I couldn’t ignore the quiet sting of rejection.

“N-No! No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he rushed out, hands waving frantically. “It’s just… I’ve never really been in a relationship before, and I’m not used to you being… like this.”

Like this.

My chest tightened at his words, a faint disappointment pressing against my ribs. “I see,” I murmured, hiding more than I wanted to show.

“Y-Yeah, so maybe… not our thing. At least for now.” He chuckled nervously, scratching at his neck. “It’s just… a lot for me, you know?”

I nodded once. My face stayed calm, but beneath it, I wasn’t sure what I felt. Embarrassment? Longing? Maybe both. I wanted to be closer, to give him comfort, but I’d overstepped, and now I didn’t know where the line was.

He stood, stretching again, yawning like a child about to collapse all over again. “I’m gonna change real quick. Are you staying here?”

I looked up. His green eyes met mine. They always steadied me, always pulled me in, but at the same time, they left me questioning myself. Wondering if I was enough.

“Todoroki?"

"Roki?"

The voice was gentle but insistent, breaking through Todoroki's spiraling thoughts.

He blinked, caught off guard, and slowly turned his head to find Sero watching him with genuine concern etched deep across his features—soft brown eyes filled with quiet care.

"Are you okay?" Sero asked quietly, voice low and warm like a gentle breeze.

Todoroki blinked several times, grounding himself in the present moment, his racing thoughts finally slowing. He took a slow, steadying breath and nodded, his voice soft but steady. "Yes, I'm okay."

Sero's brow lifted skeptically as he reached out and placed a comforting hand on Todoroki's shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding. "You sure? You've been spaced out for a while."

Todoroki gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Yeah, I'm fine, Hanta," though a tightness lingered deep in his chest—something even he couldn't fully shake.

Sero sighed quietly, relief washing over him—but it was short-lived. He knew better than to take that at face value. His eyes searched Todoroki's, catching a flicker of sadness lurking just beneath the surface. He noticed the faint, almost imperceptible quickening of his breath and the subtle shimmer of frost that began to curl at the edges of Todoroki's hair—signs his quirk was stirring alongside his emotions.

Sero knew his boyfriend's quirk was deeply tied to his feelings; whenever Todoroki's powers flared, his emotions were always heightened, revealing truths his calm mask tried to hide.

Shaking off the swirl of thoughts, Sero smiled gently, hoping to break the tension.

"Mi vida?" he said softly.

"Yes?" Todoroki replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"May I dance with you?" Sero asked, eyes sparkling with playful hope.

Todoroki was taken aback by the sudden question, blinking in surprise. "Huh?"

Sero grinned, fully expecting the confusion. He was a sucker for romance clichés—and he was ready to use every single one because, well... he loved Todoroki that much. Even though they'd only known each other for a short time, Sero admired and cared for him deeply. So why not?

He twirled in place, pointing dramatically toward the window. "I'm sorry, but the moon kinda got me in this romantic mood," he said, voice full of theatrical flair. Outside, the moon hung large and luminous, casting a soft silvery glow that bathed the room in perfect, dreamy light.

Todoroki stared at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "I don't understand."

Sero sighed, smiling softly as he studied the younger boy's expression. "You see, in my culture, dancing is another way of showing appreciation for someone you care about. Especially someone special. Other than cooking, of course," he added with a cheeky wink.

Todoroki's eyes widened a little more, surprise flickering across his features. Before he could respond, Sero gently grabbed his hand. Todoroki blinked and tilted his head as Sero quickly typed something on his phone.

"Hanta?" Todoroki asked, voice curious.

Almost immediately, soft music began to play from the phone—an old, sweet romance song that floated through the quiet room. Sero tossed the phone lightly onto the bed, his playful smirk deepening, a teasing sparkle in his brown eyes.

"This is my favorite romance song," he said with a grin.

"Oh?" Todoroki murmured, eyebrows raising.

Sero nodded and, with tender confidence, wrapped one hand around Todoroki's waist and held the other in a delicate dance position.

"Si," he said softly.

Todoroki's eyes widened as he realized just how close Sero was, his heartbeat picking up. But instead of pulling away, he stayed still, allowing himself to be held. He tilted his gaze up, taking in the older boy's handsome face—the way the moonlight softened his features, highlighting the warmth in his eyes.

As Todoroki studied Sero's face, the soft glow of the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the room, he suddenly became aware of just how much tanner Sero was compared to himself.

His own pale skin and stark red-and-white hair stood in sharp contrast to Sero's warm, sun-kissed complexion and dark chocolate eyes.

To Todoroki, who often felt like a ghost drifting through the halls of U.A., Sero looked almost like a living flame flickering in the quiet night, and somehow, that difference was magnetic—pulling him closer in a way he hadn't expected.

The music floated softly between them, the lyrics wrapping around the stillness like a gentle breeze:

"Look how she lights up the sky
Ma Belle Evangeline
So far above me yet I
Know her heart belongs to only me
Je t'adore, Je t'aime Evangeline
You're my queen of the night
So still
So bright~"

Todoroki blinked, confusion knitting his brows together. "What is this?"

Sero smirked playfully, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Have you never seen The Princess and the Frog?"

Todoroki shook his head quietly, his usual calm demeanor tinged with curiosity, prompting a dramatic sigh from Sero that was filled with both fondness and mock disappointment.

"We've gotta get you into some Disney classics," Sero declared, voice light and teasing.

As the music swelled, Sero began to sway gently, taking the lead and guiding Todoroki's hesitant movements. Todoroki stumbled a few times, awkwardly stepping on Sero's foot, which elicited a soft, surprised squeak from the older boy.

"I don't think I'm doing this right," Todoroki mumbled, his gaze glued nervously to his own feet.

Suddenly, a soft finger lifted his chin, gently forcing him to meet Sero's warm, encouraging eyes. The older boy's gaze was calm and reassuring, a silent promise that it was okay to let go of doubt.

"Mi vida, don't overthink it," Sero said quietly, voice low and comforting. "Just watch me, okay?"

"T-Thank you, Hanta," Todoroki whispered, barely audible, his heart fluttering like a caged bird.

He saw the silent plea in Sero's eyes, a tender invitation to trust, and something deep inside him softened. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased, and for the first time that evening, Todoroki felt a peaceful calm settle over him.

He tried to follow Sero's movements, stumbling occasionally but catching himself with each step. Every time he faltered, Sero smiled at him with pride and warmth.

"You're doing great, Roki," Sero praised softly, eyes sparkling.

"I am?" Todoroki breathed, still mesmerized by those deep chocolate eyes.

"Sí, mi vida, you're amazing," Sero whispered back, voice thick with affection.

A soft warmth blossomed in Todoroki's cheeks as he held Sero's gaze, feeling the quiet intimacy of the moment wrap around them like a blanket.

"You're a great teacher," Todoroki added shyly.

Sero's eyes widened in delight, his cheeks coloring a soft pink. He grinned broadly, quickening the pace just a little, twirling Todoroki gently in his arms. Todoroki's smile grew, his nerves melting away into laughter as they moved together.

The dance lost all formality, becoming playful and intimate—a conversation without words, two souls connecting through movement.

Sero's voice carried the lyrics softly, light and happy:

"Love is everything, do you agree?
Mais oui!
Look how she lights up the sky
I love you, Evangeline."

When the song came to an end, they both stopped, breathless, faces inches apart, smiles lingering on their lips. Their hearts beat loudly in the quiet room, the closeness between them undeniable.

"You're pretty good," Sero teased with a sly grin, "but not as good as me, though."

Todoroki chuckled softly, a rare, genuine laugh that made Sero's heart flutter wildly.

He hadn't felt this free or relaxed in what felt like forever.

And in that warmth, Todoroki surprised even himself.

Slowly, deliberately, he stepped closer, arms wrapping gently around Sero's neck. With a quiet, shy courage, he pressed a soft kiss to Sero's lips.

Sero blinked in surprise—Todoroki was usually so measured, so careful with affection.

But this? This was a gift he cherished deeply.

He kissed back eagerly, savoring the softness of the moment. When they finally parted, Sero's eyes flicked down to see Todoroki's cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of red.

"What was that for, mi vida?" Sero teased, voice warm and amused.

Todoroki bit his lip, mumbling softly, "Well... we're boyfriends, aren't we?"

Sero blinked, then giggled at how adorably shy his boyfriend looked.

"Why, of course," he replied with a wide grin.

Todoroki nodded, letting go reluctantly. "Even though I already said yes to you, I... can't wait for our date tomorrow."

"Oh Roki, you're going to be surprised," Sero said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"In a good way or a bad way?" Todoroki asked, his voice tinged with nervous hope.

Sero smiled warmly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Todoroki's ear. "I hope it's a good way."

Todoroki's whole body seemed to light up, a rush of warmth flooding him. He bit his bottom lip before finding the courage to meet Sero's gaze once more.

"I just want you there with me," he said quietly.

Sero's heart soared at those words. He wanted to shout, Marry me!—but they were just first years in high school, and this was only the beginning.

Instead, he smiled brightly and pulled Todoroki into a tight, reassuring hug.

"Of course, estaré contigo hasta que te canses de mí," he whispered against his hair.

Todoroki blinked, confused for a moment. "You'll be with me until I get sick of you?"

Sero laughed softly, eyes sparkling. "Sí! Your Spanish is getting so much better, Roki."

Blushing a delicate pink, Todoroki looked away, chuckling softly. "You've been teaching me for almost two months."

"Still," Sero teased, wrapping his arms even tighter around Todoroki's waist, "you're getting there."

Todoroki melted completely into the embrace, his whole body relaxing for the first time in ages. He was happy—truly happy.

No one had ever shown him this much affection before.

And slowly, he was learning the most important lesson of all:

I'm not alone anymore.

Chapter 14: Alfred

Notes:

I LOVE THIS SHIP!!!!

Third Person POV:

"BESTIE?!"

Mina Ashido nearly dropped her phone as her bedroom door slammed open with a dramatic BANG, revealing a very frazzled, borderline hyperventilating Hanta Sero. His dark hair was messy, his hoodie was half-zipped, and he looked like he'd sprinted across the entire dorms.

Mina blinked. "Dude. I thought we were under attack again."

Sero practically tripped into her room, eyes wide with desperation as he flung himself onto her plush pink bed like it was a life raft. "I need your help! Emergency. Level. Ten!"

The pink-haired girl narrowed her eyes playfully, placing her phone on her nightstand with exaggerated calmness. "Sero, you have ten seconds to explain why you just burst through my door like a maniac or I will bury you in glitter and tape you to the ceiling."

He didn't even flinch. "Mina," he groaned dramatically, arms flopping like noodles, "I'm in big trouble."

Mina tilted her head, her amusement fading just a little. "Wait... what happened?"

Sero sat up like a vampire rising from the grave, grabbing one of her throw pillows to squeeze like a stress ball. "Okay, okay, so I had everything planned. I was gonna take Todoroki to this really cool little rooftop restaurant with fairy lights and a killer view of the skyline—super romantic, you know? And THEN, we'd take a chill walk through the park, maybe get some mochi or—Ugh!" He groaned, throwing himself back into the pillows again.

Mina blinked. "Okay... sounds cute. So what's the problem?"

"The restaurant bailed on me! Last minute! Apparently, their reservation system glitched and double-booked and now there's NO table and I called like, three backup places and they're all full, and now I have two hours until I'm supposed to take mi vida out and I have nothing. No plans. No backup. Just heartbreak and chaos!"

He let out a muffled wail into her comforter.

Mina frowned, heart twisting a little. She knew how much Sero liked Todoroki. He's been dreaming about out about this first "real" date for months, and now the poor guy was spiraling.

"Sero..." she said gently, sitting beside him and patting his head.

He peeked out from the pillows with watery eyes. "Mi vida was actually excited, Mina. Do you know how rare that is? He was doing that soft thing with his eyes—you know, where he kinda glows and looks like a confused baby deer? He was looking forward to it. What if he thinks I don't care? What if he hates me now? What if he's like, 'Oh wow, Hanta is unreliable and lame' and then he dumps me and moves to the mountains to live with goats?!"

Mina held in her laughter. "Okay, first of all, Todoroki's not going to become a goat hermit."

"You don't know that!" Sero shrieked into a throw pillow.

She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Get a grip, Tape Boy! You're not losing your boyfriend over one restaurant fail."

"But I wanted it to be perfect! It's our first real date and now I'm gonna have to say something like, 'Sorry mi vida, plans got nuked, guess we're staying in and playing Uno while I sob into your lap!'"

Mina raised a brow. "Honestly? Sounds kind of adorable."

Sero glared at her dramatically.

Mina rolled her eyes and stood up, grabbing her phone. "Luckily for you, you have a genius for a best friend."

Sero flopped again. "You're abandoning me in my time of need to scroll TikTok?!"

"Calm down, drama king." She smirked as she hit a contact. "I'm calling in the cavalry."

Sero blinked as she pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" came a cheerful voice on the other end.

"Hey, Uraraka! You busy?"

"Not really! I'm just with Momo and Tsu at the library—Momo's lecturing us on quirk theory again. What's up?"

"I need your help. Actually, all three of you. Can you ask Momo if she knows any cute gardens or private spots to picnic in, and if she and Tsu can help bring some aesthetic snacks?"

"...Aesthetic snacks?"

"Uraraka."

"Okay okay, got it! Who's the picnic for?"

"I'll explain later. Just get everyone back to the dorms ASAP. Time is ticking and love is at stake."

"Wha—?"

"Thanks, you're the best! Love you, bye!" Mina chirped, hanging up without waiting for more questions.

Sero stared at her like she'd grown another head. "What... just happened?"

Mina flipped her pink hair with a grin. "Simple. You, my overly dramatic best friend, are now throwing the most adorable surprise picnic date for your emotionally constipated boyfriend."

"...You're a genius."

"I know."

He threw his arms around her in a hug. "Thank you thank you thank you—"

"Okay, okay, save the cuddles for Shotobaby. Go shower, change, and brush your teeth. I'm texting the girls, we're getting this set up now. Operation 'Save Sero's Date' is a go."

As Sero scrambled out of the room, bolting for his closet and yelling something about whether he should wear cologne or not, Mina turned back to her phone with a satisfied smirk.

"This is going to be the best date ever."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

I wonder if my hair looks okay.

I checked it in the mirror at least four times now, but something still feels off. Maybe it's the angle? Or the way the ends flare out near my ears? Maybe I should've styled it differently—something softer, more casual. Something he'd notice.

Are my clothes too plain for this?

I know he said we're just going out, nothing fancy, but what does that actually mean? I'm wearing a fitted grey turtle neck sweater and black jeans. Functional. Warm. Safe. Too safe?

Maybe I shouldn't have worn jeans. Maybe slacks would've looked more intentional. Maybe I should've asked Iida for advice... though he'd probably suggest a suit and tie, and that would've been too much.

It's cold, so short sleeves were out of the question. But now I'm wondering—does this make me look too comfortable? Like I didn't try hard enough?

Would he care that I didn't change my hair? Would he mind that I didn't add some cologne or switch to different shoes?

Would he even notice?

Those thoughts are looping in my head like some broken record, and I can't seem to shut them off. My brain is a snowstorm of what-ifs and second-guesses. I don't usually get this anxious. Not like this.

I've been to events—hero galas, dinners, interviews, internships, press junkets. Most of them were far more high-stakes than this. I've stood in front of the top pro heroes in the country and spoken without blinking.

So why does the idea of this date have my hands sweating?

Why does the thought of Hanta Sero—my boyfriend—make my chest tighten and my heart beat like it's trying to escape?

Even with Midoriya, when we had our first date, I didn't feel this unsettled. That was new and awkward, sure, but this is something else.

It's not fear.

It's anticipation.

It's hope.

It's the kind of nervous that makes my stomach twist, not because something's wrong, but because something really good might happen. And the thought of ruining it terrifies me.

Hanta said this was going to be the "best date ever." He said it with that confident, crooked smile of his and this gleam in his eyes like he was plotting something special.

That's just who he is—loud in a way that warms a room, mischievous but kind. And ever since we started... whatever this is... my whole body gets tense and light at the same time whenever I think about him.

But this date—our first real date—it feels different. More intentional. More romantic.

Especially after the dance.

That night was like something out of someone else's life. Someone softer, lighter—someone not raised by Endeavor.

I've never danced before but I've been to dances. Public events, networking galas. Those were always stiff, mechanical—just something to get through since I was forced to go by Endeavor.

But when I danced with Hanta?

It felt like the world stopped spinning for just a minute. Like my body remembered how to move with someone, not in defense, not in obligation—but in rhythm.

His hands were warm. His smile was easy. I wasn't the number two hero's son. I wasn't the class prodigy.

I was just Shoto.

That moment made me realize how rare it is to feel truly... safe.

And I smiled. I remember smiling so hard my face hurt after. When I'm with him, I laugh more. I talk more. It's like something inside me loosens every time he's near.

But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared.

Scared that he'll get tired of the version of me he thinks he sees. That he'll realize I'm not all that perfect. That I come with baggage and silence and scars that can't be healed with sweet words and a charming grin.

I was hesitant at first. When he asked me out, I hesitated—not because I didn't want to say yes, but because I didn't think I deserved it.

I worried that he'd leave once he got a glimpse of the real me. That he'd backpedal like others have.

But last night, we talked. Really talked. He looked at me like I wasn't something broken to fix, but someone worth keeping.

And it hit me—he cares. Genuinely. No pretenses. No expectations.

He cares.

I caught myself comparing him to Midoriya again, and I hate that I did.

Midoriya was... something else. Kind, determined, brave—but our connection always felt like something we had to tiptoe around. We were both so wrapped up in saving everyone else, we forgot to figure us out.

But with Hanta? It's easy.

It's not perfect, not yet, but it's honest.

Tokoyami told me once, "The shadows of the past make poor guides for the path ahead."

I didn't really get it then. Now I think I do.

I want to move forward. I want to be present.

I want this to work.

I want us to work.

I want to be the boyfriend he thinks I am. The one he looks at like I put the stars in the sky. He told me he thinks I'm perfect, and part of me still doesn't believe it—but I want to try and live up to it.

I don't want to be a burden again. Not like before.

I check my phone.

3:30 PM.

My breath catches in my throat.

He said to meet at four, but that's in thirty minutes. What if he's already there, waiting on me?

I can't risk being late.

I snatch my phone and wallet, tucking them into my coat pocket. I don't want him to pay for everything. I know he wants to treat me, and I appreciate it, but something in me still twitches at the idea of being taken care of.

Growing up, being "taken care of" came with strings attached. Control. Expectations. Pain.

But with Hanta, it's different. Or at least I want it to be.

I step out of my room and lock the door behind me. My expression stays neutral, collected. Calm. But that's not how I feel inside.

There's a current running through me.

Not fear. Not dread. Something...electric. Buzzing under my skin like I've touched a live wire.

It's not anxiety—not really—but more like standing on the edge of something good, something real. And I'm terrified to mess it up.

I pass through the common area of the dorms, trying not to look like I'm searching. Denki is sprawled sideways on the couch like a melted popsicle, his head half-lolling onto Tokoyami's shoulder as they watch a news segment on villain arrests in Kamino. Kirishima is sitting on the armrest beside Bakugou, who's pretending not to watch while clearly watching.

Still no sign of Hanta.

My heart dips—not in panic, just...disappointment.

Of course, he's not here. I'm early. He said four. I told myself not to expect him to be waiting, so why did I? Why does it still sting?

I almost turn back toward my room—deciding to kill time pacing, maybe reorganizing my socks—when I hear my name.

"Yo, Todoroki!"

I glance over. Kirishima is looking up from his chip bag with a casual grin, dusted knuckles raised in a lazy wave.

"Yeah?" I reply, trying to sound normal.

"Have you seen Sero?"

I freeze.

He's not...here?

"What do you mean?" My voice doesn't crack, but it's close.

Kirishima shrugs. "He and Mina bounced, like, a couple of hours ago. I figured you might know. You guys have been glued at the hip lately."

My lips part, but nothing comes out. A breath—then silence.

He left with Mina?

Hours ago?

Why didn't he say anything? We had breakfast together—he even laughed when I stole the last dumpling off his plate. He said he had something special planned for tonight. He promised.

Did something happen?

...Did he forget?

No. He wouldn't.

I press the thought down, trap it under logic. He's probably helping Mina with something. Maybe it's part of the surprise. He knows I don't like surprises. But he also knows I love when he plans things.

He said it himself: "I'm going to make this the best date ever."

So I breathe. Deep. Controlled.

I won't let my brain sabotage this.

Not again.

He's not like them. He's not—

"I don't know," I answer flatly, cutting off my own spiral.

Kirishima squints like he wants to say more but instead just offers a soft "Oh. Alright." He shrugs again, then returns to his chips.

I glance at my phone. 3:35 PM.

I'm only twenty-five minutes early.

God, what's wrong with me?

"Yeah man, I miss Mina too," Denki chimes in from the couch, stretching with a yawn.

"You don't miss Sero?" Kirishima snorts.

"Meh, I see him every day."

"You see Mina every day too."

"Mina's my bestie," Denki counters like that explains everything.

Their banter is background noise until Kirishima turns back to me with a grin. "Whoa, Todoroki—you're dressed up."

I blink. I glance down at my outfit. A grey turtleneck, dark fitted jeans, ankle boots. It's not exactly formal, but I thought it looked...nice. Effort, but not desperate.

"I didn't think I was," I murmur, tugging lightly at my sleeve.

"Nah, man, you look good," he says. "Real date-night energy."

Before I can respond, a loud smack echoes across the room.

"OW! Bakugou! What the hell?!"

Kirishima rubs his head where Bakugou smacked him, the blond muttering something incomprehensible under his breath before scowling at the TV like it offended him personally.

"Fucking idiots," is all he offers.

No context. No reason. Just classic Bakugou.

I frown, briefly wondering why Kirishima puts up with him. Their personalities clash so violently, it's hard to imagine them functioning. But...Kirishima still looks at him like he hung the stars.

I guess I can't talk. I'm dating Hanta Sero. The human equivalent of a carnival pop song.

And I like it.

"Where ya heading?" Kirishima asks, yanking me from my thoughts.

"Out," I answer simply.

He opens his mouth to probe, but Tokoyami lets out a quiet, ominous "Hmm." His face is buried in a thick hardcover, but I catch the flick of his eyes toward me.

He knows.

Or at least, he suspects.

I talked to him before—to sort through my confusion about starting something with Sero. He told me not to cling to the past. That what ended with Midoriya ended for a reason.

That I deserve something joyful.

Maybe this is it.

"Whoa, is that cologne?" Denki's suddenly next to me, sniffing my sleeve. "Fancy."

"No," I answer, a bit startled.

"I swear it smells different," he insists.

"Are you going on a date?" Kirishima pipes in, his grin wide.

My heart hiccups.

They know. Or they're guessing.

Did Sero tell them?

No. He said he wouldn't. He knows how private I am. He wouldn't break that promise too.

Still...how would they know?

"Dude," Sato says as he walks by with meal containers in hand, pausing at the edge of the kitchen.

"What?" Kirishima asks.

"Be a little sensitive," Sato says carefully. "You know...what he's been through."

He's vague, but I know what—or who—he's talking about.

Midoriya.

My last relationship. The breakup that left parts of me sharp-edged and numb.

But that chapter's closed.

Hanta is the one here now. And I don't want to keep looking back.

"Yeah, Kiri," Denki says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "Try having a soul."

I blink, surprised by the sudden physical closeness—but not uncomfortable. Hanta's friends have grown oddly fond of me since we started spending more time together.

I used to think they pitied me. But I don't think that anymore.

They're loud. Overwhelming, even. But they make Hanta happy. And if they're important to him, they matter to me too.

"Sorry, Todoroki," Kirishima offers, but he adds a wink.

...A wink?

That's odd.

Isn't he dating Bakugou?

Does he... like me?

No. He's just friendly. Right?

Still, it unsettles something.

"Come hang out with us, man," Kirishima says, patting the couch cushion beside him.

I hesitate.

Then Denki jumps onto the seat like a golden retriever on espresso, crashing into Kirishima and partially landing on Bakugou.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Relax! I just wanted to sit!"

"YOU'RE GONNA DIE, SPARKPLUG!"

The chaos is instantaneous. Kirishima tries to play mediator as Bakugou threatens to end Denki's bloodline.

I sigh and sit on the far end of the couch, choosing the quietest seat available.

It's easier to wait down here than alone upstairs.

I glance at the TV. A couple on-screen is laughing, their eyes soft with something that looks like genuine affection.

I wonder if that could ever be me and Hanta.

I want it to be.

But a part of me whispers doubt. What if I scare him off? What if he gets tired of the weight I carry?

I glance down at my phone again. 3:42 PM.

Still early.

I slide the phone into my pocket and lean back into the cushions.

He said he'd make this the best date ever.

I believe him.

I just hope I'm not hoping for too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

"Okay girlies! This looks great!"

Mina clapped her hands together with a satisfied grin, standing back to admire the setup: a massive checkered blanket spread across the park lawn, colorful cushions stacked neatly, and a mountain of delicious food laid out in aesthetic bento-style containers.

Momo and Tsuyu gave the pink-skinned teen matching thumbs-ups from across the blanket. Mina beamed, spinning dramatically like she was on a cooking show.

Sero, nearby, was finishing up the final touches to the food display. He was crouched beside a large picnic basket, carefully arranging the containers like puzzle pieces.

"Okay, soba's packed, our empanadas are still warm, ropa vieja's sealed tight, and I didn't forget the strawberry shortcake." He exhaled. "I think we're good."

Mina bounced over to him, a sparkle in her eyes. "Ooh~ Sero, this is adorable! You outdid yourself!"

The tape hero glanced over his shoulder and saw her beaming at him. He smiled back without hesitation, a little pride flickering in his chest.

"Thanks, Mina. And seriously—thanks again, everyone, for helping me pull this off."

"No problem!" Uraraka chirped as she floated over, gently placing a cooler filled with juice and sparkling tea on the edge of the blanket. "This is gonna be so cute!"

"We all want to make your date special," Momo added with a warm grin, her tone teasing but sincere.

He hadn't told anyone who he was going on this date with—just that it was important. That he needed this to go right.

Uraraka leaned over with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. "Sooo~ Serooo~ Who's the special someone? You've been all mysterious lately."

The color drained from his face instantly. "Y-You don't know them!"

'Wow, Sero. Real smooth,' he mentally groaned.

"Oh yeah?" she pressed, clearly enjoying herself. "Do they go to our school? Is it someone from another class?"

"U-Um—" Sero looked around like someone might toss him a lifeline.

"Hey, Sero," Tsuyu ribbited, blinking slowly.

"Yeah!" he turned toward her like she was his personal hero.

"When are you supposed to meet them?"

"Four," he answered, stuffing napkins into the side pocket of the basket. "Why?"

There was a beat.

"This may alarm you," Tsuyu said in her usual calm voice, looking down at her phone. "But it's 3:55."

Everyone froze.

Mina and Momo gasped in unison as Sero went stiff like a board.

He turned his head slowly. "W-What?"

"It's 3:55," Tsuyu repeated. "You have five minutes."

Sero looked down at the basket. He looked at the carefully arranged picnic setup. Then he looked at the long sidewalk stretching toward the bus stop.

"...Crap."

Uraraka spun toward Momo. "What are we gonna do?!"

"How far are we from the school?" Tsuyu asked, already calculating the distance.

Momo frowned as she checked her GPS. "Twenty minutes by bus... he'll never make it on time..."

"Don't say stuff like that!" Mina barked, shaking her head with dramatic flair. "We have to think positive! Now Sero, if we hurry and get the next bus, then we can still make it—"

She froze.

"Sero!?"

The girls followed her gaze.

Their friend was already halfway up a lamppost, tape shooting from his elbows, swinging through the trees like Spider-Man on a mission.

"I'LL BE BACK—BYEEEE!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the park as he disappeared between two tall buildings.

"SEROOOOOOO!"

Mina stomped her foot in exasperation, pink cheeks puffing out.

"Did he seriously expect us to just stay here with all this stuff?!"

Uraraka blinked and tilted her head. "...Are we?"

Tsuyu looked to Momo.

Momo gently laid her hands on her hips, hair ruffling in the breeze. "Of course we are."

Mina huffed and crossed her arms.

"...Tch. We better get front row tea when he tells us everything."

They all nodded, silently agreeing—this better be the date of the century.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"That fake-ass bitch!" Bakugou's voice exploded from the couch, nearly making the popcorn leap out of his bowl.

"The nerve of her," Kirishima scoffed, arms crossed and jaw tight. "So unmanly. How do you even—"

Denki groaned, sinking deeper into the couch's worn cushions, face twisted in disgust. "Like, Ashley's whole act is just—fake. She knew exactly what she was doing. That line? That whole speech? Extra as hell." He flopped back, shaking his head like he was personally offended. "Honestly, she shouldn't even have that stupid party. Like, why? It's just drama."

"Right?" Kirishima nodded emphatically. "Just drama to stir shit up. It's un-manly."

The three of them settled back, fingers digging into popcorn as the screen flickered with more exaggerated tears and angry confrontations from the American teen drama playing.

Tokoyami, sitting across the room with a book balanced on his knees, shook his head slowly. He didn't get it. The endless cycles of betrayal, secret crushes, and manufactured drama always felt so... hollow.

'So predictable,' he thought, 'like watching a villain's plan unfold in slow motion.'

How could his friends watch this garbage and actually care?

He glanced over, noting the intense expressions on Denki, Kirishima, and Bakugou's faces, so invested it was almost comical.

Part of him wanted to get up, walk away, and bury himself in his book. But another part—he wasn't sure why—wanted to see if Ashley and Emma's messy lives would finally blow up.

Maybe... some karma?

A low growl interrupted his thoughts.

He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he saw Todoroki—red and white hair slightly disheveled—toss his phone across the couch with enough force to rattle the couch.

Tokoyami blinked, watching as Todoroki rose from the couch, jaw tight, and stomped towards the elevator with heavy, deliberate steps.

He glanced at his friends, but they were too absorbed in the show to notice Todoroki's sudden disappearance.

Tokoyami's eyes drifted to the clock on his wrist: 4:30 PM.

'Hm.'

He lifted his gaze back to the elevator doors just as they closed on the red-and-white-haired figure.

'For someone who's supposed to be calm and collected, 'Tokoyami mused silently, 'there's a storm brewing under that surface.'

The chant from Kirishima and Denki pierced the quiet again:

"Lock her up! Lock her up!"

Tokoyami groaned quietly, burying his face deeper in his book, wishing the noise would stop.

Yet, despite himself, he was curious—curious about what was eating at Todoroki so fiercely, about why the quiet boy would explode in such visible frustration in the middle of a lazy afternoon filled with silly TV shows.

He closed the book slowly, letting the silence settle around him as he watched and waited.

While the boys were absorbed in their silly teen dramas, Todoroki's fingers slammed down on the elevator button with quiet fury.

Angry.

No, not just angry — seething.

A fire burned deep inside him, hotter and wilder than his quirk, ready to explode.

He was so mad he could have punched a hole through the wall. Could have kicked anything in sight and shattered it to pieces. But he didn't. He clenched his fists tightly, grinding his teeth instead. He knew it wouldn't help. It wouldn't change a thing. All he wanted was to scream — scream until the weight in his chest cracked and shattered.

Because now he knew.

It was all a joke.

Sero couldn't possibly have been that kind to him. That sweet, thoughtful, patient. It had to be fake. A lie wrapped in empty promises.

Todoroki wasn't made for kindness like that. He wasn't meant to accept love — certainly not from someone like Sero. Deep down, he had known it was too good to be true. He was too broken to deserve someone so good.

And that truth crushed him harder than any flame or ice could.

He had wanted to believe. Wanted to trust Sero's warmth, his smiles, his quiet devotion. But it wasn't real. It couldn't be. Because no one like him was meant to be loved like that.

Not Midoriya — not even Sero.

He wasn't desirable. Not worthy. Too much — too cold, too complicated.

'Sero must have changed his mind. He probably wanted someone like Mina — someone lighter, someone easy to love. Someone who didn't carry so much pain. He must have just pitied me, that's all. Everything he said, everything he did... all a lie. He didn't really like me. I knew he couldn't. With the way I treated him, maybe he wanted payback. That's why he asked me to be his boyfriend. That's why he's with Mina now, not me.'

The cruel thoughts churned in his mind, suffocating him, dragging him deeper into the dark.

Then —

"Todoroki?!"

The elevator chimed open just as a sharp, breathless voice cut through the silence.

His heart slammed against his ribs, jolting him awake from the storm of doubts.

He whipped his head toward the voice — and froze.

There, at the far end of the hall, stood Sero Hanta.

His usually sleek black hair was tangled and wind-blown, sticking out in all directions with leaves still clinging to it. His cheeks were flushed, smudged with dirt, and sweat clung to his jaw and neck. His clothes—ripped hoodie, muddy jeans, scuffed sneakers—looked like they had been dragged through a construction site. He was panting hard, hunched over like he'd sprinted the entire way here.

"Hanta?" Todoroki blinked, the tension in his shoulders faltering.

Sero bent forward, one hand on his knee, the other bracing himself against the wall. "S–Sorry I'm—hngh—just give me a—pant—minute..."

Todoroki took a step closer, eyes scanning him from head to toe, confusion mixing with concern.

"What happened to you?" he asked, his tone flat but hiding something tightly wound—somewhere between disbelief and worry.

Sero wheezed once more before standing upright. His face was flushed, hair a total mess, but when he looked up—he stopped breathing.

Because there stood Todoroki.

Dressed in a sleek grey turtleneck that hugged his frame just right, paired with high-waisted black jeans that fit dangerously well. His hair was neatly combed, slightly puffed from extra effort, and his skin practically glowed under the soft hallway lighting.

His usually stoic face looked a little more delicate tonight—lips slightly parted, cheeks subtly pink, brows pulled together in that worried-but-masking-it expression he always wore when he cared more than he let on.

Todoroki looked like he'd stepped out of a dream.

Sero blinked.

'Oh Dios mío...'

( Oh my God)

Todoroki raised an eyebrow, his tone sharp and unimpressed. "Hanta!"

He flinched, shaking his head to clear the haze. "R-right! Sorry! Sorry—uh—what were you saying?"

Todoroki's gaze sharpened, eyebrow arched, voice clipped and unimpressed.

"I asked what happened to you."

The weight of those words sank deep, and Sero could feel a cold shiver of guilt crawling down his spine. His throat tightened and he swallowed hard.

'Shit.'

"W-well, I—" He opened his mouth to explain, but the words tangled.

"You said four o'clock, and it's 4:30," Todoroki's tone dropped, low and dangerous, like a storm about to break. "What was taking you so long? And why were you out on our date day!?"

As he spoke, flames flickered faintly on the left side of his head, crackling with a quiet intensity, while a misty breath of frost drifted from his right side, cooling the space around him. The raw contrast of fire and ice created an almost electric tension in the air.

Sero's throat tightened once again.

He was so, so screwed.

Because this wasn't the usual calm, collected Todoroki. This wasn't the quiet observer who watched with unreadable eyes and carefully measured words. No, this was something different.

This was a rare, raw outburst of emotion. Passion wrapped in frustration.

And it meant something.

It meant Todoroki had been waiting.

Waiting for him.

Waiting and hoping.

And above all, it meant Todoroki cared.

Sero bit the inside of his cheek, nervous—but he still found the nerve to flash a sheepish smile.

"Okay, so... funny story. I, uh, wanted the date to be perfect, so I asked Mina and the girls to help me with some last-minute details. But the restaurant I originally booked bailed last minute. And then everywhere else was packed, so I was running around like crazy trying to find something—anything—that was nice enough. And then I realized I was late, so I panicked and used my tape to swing across town like Spider-Man—which would've been cool if I hadn't crashed into a tree. And THEN there was this sweet old lady in the street who dropped all her groceries, so of course I helped her, and then I tripped over my own shoelace, and—"

Todoroki stepped forward and clamped a hand over Sero's mouth.

Sero blinked.

Todoroki stared up at him with unreadable eyes—quiet, intense, burning. "You were rambling again."

The tension cracked just a little.

Sero slowly reached up and gently removed Todoroki's hand from his mouth. Then, very softly, he smiled.

"I'm really sorry, mi vida. I didn't mean to make you wait. I just... I wanted tonight to be special. For you."

Todoroki's heart stuttered.

He blinked. Slowly. His expression slowly melting into something fragile—soft around the edges, wide-eyed, vulnerable.

"...For me?" he whispered.

Sero nodded, brushing his messy hair back. "Of course for you. Who else would I go through all that for? You're the only one that matters to me."

The air around them seemed to still, the noisy world fading into the background until all that remained was the steady beat of their hearts in sync.

Todoroki felt the breath leave his lungs, a hollow ache spreading through his chest. It was a mixture of guilt, awe, and the crumbling of every cruel lie he had convinced himself was true—the lies that told him he wasn't worthy, that Sero's kindness was pity, that their connection was just a fragile illusion destined to break.

But here he was, confronted with the undeniable truth.

Sero—beaten, breathless, and utterly beautiful—had sprinted across town, pushed through chaos, crashed into trees, stopped to help strangers on the way—all for him.

'For me.'

And yet, Todoroki had doubted it. Had doubted him.

His hands curled tightly into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening, as the raw vulnerability swelled inside his chest, threatening to break free. It was almost too much—the weight of it all crushing and uplifting him simultaneously.

He could hardly believe someone cared so much, cared this much.

Sero had rushed through chaos, crashed into trees, helped strangers... for him.

And he'd doubted all of it.

'I don't deserve him', Todoroki thought bitterly, his voice silent in his own mind. 'And yet... here he is.'

"I-I'll understand if you don't want to go on the date anymore," Sero's voice trembled softly, barely above a whisper, as if admitting it hurt him even to say it. There was a fragile sadness threading through his words, like he was already bracing himself for rejection.

Todoroki's chest tightened at the vulnerability in Sero's tone. He snapped his head up, eyes locking with the older boy's worried gaze, and something in him softened immediately. He frowned slightly, tilting his head as if trying to read between the lines.

"What?" he asked quietly, his voice gentle but curious.

Sero looked down, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. "I'm sorry, mi vida," he said, voice thick with regret. "I didn't mean to cause all this... I just wanted everything to be perfect. But I broke my promise, and I'm so, so sorry."

His eyes refused to meet Todoroki's, fixed instead on the scuffed floor beneath their feet. The silence stretched painfully between them. Sero felt like he'd ruined everything, that the one chance he'd had to make this moment special had slipped through his fingers.

He blew it. He had one job—and he utterly sucked at it.

When he finally got the guy of his dreams, he couldn't even show up on time.

Wow, Sero. Just wow.

'How could this happen? No, how could I do this!? When I finally get with him, this had to happen!? It's like the universe is conspiring against me—'

"Hanta?"

The soft voice pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts. Slowly, he lifted his head.

Todoroki's eyes were calm, steady—something warm and steady that made the tight knot in Sero's chest loosen just a fraction.

"You didn't break your promise."

Sero blinked, surprise flickering across his features. "I didn't?"

"No," Todoroki said simply, with quiet certainty. "You promised you'd be with me today, and you're here with me now."

The words hit Sero like a balm. Relief flooded through him, washing away the guilt and fear.

"O-Oh..." he breathed, voice barely above a whisper.

Todoroki glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then reached out slowly to cup Sero's cheek. His thumb moved over the smudges of dirt and sweat with a careful, tender touch—wiping them away as if erasing all doubts and worries along with the grime.

Sero's eyes brightened, a shy smile spreading across his tired, dirt-streaked face. Todoroki's other hand reached up, brushing the tangled leaves and twigs out of Sero's hair, fingers gentle and patient.

"How could you be so dirty on our first date?" Todoroki murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the softness in his voice.

As the younger boy gently cleaned Sero up, a quiet blush crept up Sero's cheeks. He chuckled, a little embarrassed but mostly touched.

"Espero aceptes mis disculpas, mi vida, por favor."

(Hope you accept my apology, my life, please.)

Todoroki's mind repeated the Spanish phrase softly until it clicked, and he let out a soft hum of understanding.

"I accept your apology," he said, still softly rubbing Sero's cheeks, "but next time... tell me if you're going to be late, so I don't have to worry."

Sero's smile grew, eyes shimmering with gratitude and affection. "Of course, I promise I won't—wait, next time?"

Todoroki paused for a beat, looking up with a small smile, eyes bright. "If this date goes well, I'd like to go on another one. Isn't that how it works?"

Sero's smile faltered, surprise blooming across his face. "Y-Yeah, but—"

"So yes," Todoroki said with a teasing glint, "I still want to go on this date."

Sero's heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst. Is this real life? He had to pinch himself just to be sure.

"Wait a minute, mi vida, you really still want to date me?" His voice was a mix of disbelief and hope, soft like a secret shared.

Todoroki nodded without hesitation, finishing wiping the last of the dirt from Sero's cheek. "Yes. I mean, you did go through a lot just to make sure we had this date, didn't you?"

Sero's cheeks flamed as he caught the gentle curiosity shining in Todoroki's eyes. His own face softened into a warm smile full of love.

"Sí," he said quietly.

Todoroki's eyes sparkled in response, and he opened his mouth to say something else when suddenly, he squinted up at Sero's hair.

"Hanta?"

"Sí~" Sero replied, a little puzzled.

Todoroki reached up and gently plucked something from Sero's messy hair.

"I think you have a caterpillar on your head."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

"Ready to go?" I asked, slipping my hand into my pocket as I adjusted my shirt for the tenth time.

" Yes Hanta, are you sure you're ok?" Mi vida kindly asked.

He's so sweet!

"Yeah, sorry, Roki," I said with a sheepish grin, "I had to make sure that damn bug was out of my hair."

If you're wondering—yeah, there was literally a caterpillar tangled up in my hair. Like, what are the odds?

I had to jump straight into the shower, wash it out, and then change into something fresh because, well, nobody wants creepy crawlies hanging around during a first date.

Thankfully, my vida is way more patient than anyone deserves. He didn't complain, just let me take my sweet time getting ready. And honestly? I was going all out for him.

I'm talking about my sharpest cargo pants, the piercings I'd carefully polished to gleam just right, and a cozy sweater perfect for this crisp fall evening—the kind that feels like wrapping yourself up in a warm hug. Yeah, I know, classic fanon Sero vibes, but hey, I'm owning it.

I wanted to look good for him—to show him I can be attractive too. Okay, maybe not his level of perfect, but I'm up there. Close enough.

We managed to sneak out of the dorm without anyone catching us—thanks to the boys being glued to some teen drama show I'm low-key jealous of. But honestly? My man's company totally beats that show any day.

As we stepped outside, I took the chance to be the smooth operator I secretly am. My fingers slid easily into his, and I gently held his hand as we walked side by side.

At first, I could tell it caught him off guard. We'd never done this before—holding hands like that in public—but after a few steps, he relaxed, his fingers curling around mine.

Man, his hand is smaller than I thought. He's got big hands, sure, but they're...softer than I expected. So warm. So... alive.

Compared to Midoriya's hand—which is like a giant claw—Todoroki's feels like the perfect fit.

No. Stop.

Don't think about anyone else but mi vida. This is our first date, and I'm here to make it unforgettable. He deserves every bit of it.

"Where are we going, Hanta?" His voice was soft, curious, and his eyes—god, those eyes—caught the fading sunlight in a way that made my heart stutter.

I turned around with a sly grin. "Well, that's a surprise, my beautiful boyfriend~"

I saw that familiar blush color creep up his cheeks, subtle but beautiful, like he was trying to hide it by looking away. I couldn't help but chuckle softly. He does that all the time when he's embarrassed. So cute.

"And... I hope you'll like it."

He glanced back at me, that blush still there, a promise lingering in his eyes. "I will."

I blinked, caught off guard by how sure he sounded. "But you haven't been there yet."

"If you're there, then... I'll like it."

Damn. My heart's melting.

I couldn't resist—leaning in, I pressed a quick surprise kiss to his cheek. A soft gasp escaped his lips, and I saw the way his eyes widened. He turned toward me, eyes sparkling with disbelief and something softer—something like happiness.

"W-What was that for?" His voice was flustered and adorable.

"Nothing," I said with a wink, "Oh! Our ride is here."

I pointed down the street just as a sleek black limo pulled up in front of us.

Damn. The perks of having rich friends like Momo—she really came through for me.

I glanced over at Todoroki. His head tilted that way he always does when he's confused, eyes wide and curious.

"That's our ride?"

"Yeah. Remember I told you I asked for the girls' help? Momo came in clutch."

He didn't quite seem to fully understand everything yet—not the full picture—but he didn't ask any more questions. Maybe it was better that way. Sometimes surprises were best experienced rather than dissected. And honestly? I was just as eager to get this show on the road.

The limo's door swung open with that smooth, effortless grace that only a real limousine could pull off. I held out my hand toward Todoroki, my heart pounding in my chest.

Holy shit.

This was actually happening.

I've never been in a limo before. Not once. And the thought that this was how Momo lived her life? It was wild. Totally surreal.

The car glided to a stop, and just as I was soaking it all in, a man stepped out from the driver's seat. He was older, tall, and dressed impeccably in a black suit, topped off with a white mustache that made him look exactly like Alfred from the Batman movies.

I couldn't help but chuckle quietly at how perfectly the part was cast.

I felt Todoroki's hand tighten around mine, a small but telling squeeze. I glanced over and saw the slight tension in his jaw, the subtle pull of nerves in his eyes. I wondered what exactly was running through his mind.

Was it excitement? Apprehension? Or was he just trying to process everything quietly?

"Are you Mr. Sero that Miss Yaoyorozu instructed me to pick up?" the man asked with a polite, measured tone.

I blinked and snapped out of my thoughts. "Uh—yeah. That's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the nervous energy bubbling inside me.

The man gave a polite nod. "Perfect. Now, would you two please join me in the car? Miss Yaoyorozu and her friends are waiting at the destination I was given."

He stepped back with a gentlemanly flourish and opened the limo door wide.

Holy cow. This is really happening.

I smiled at mi vida and said, "After you."

"Um... okay," he murmured, stepping forward hesitantly. I could see the usual curiosity and slight hesitation in his eyes as he climbed in.

On the outside, I was as cool as a cucumber, but inside? I was practically buzzing with excitement, heart racing like a kid about to ride a rollercoaster for the first time.

I mean, seriously—a limo! I could already imagine Denki's reaction when I told him. He was going to be so jealous.

"Mr. Sero?"

I turned back to see the Alfred-looking dude waiting patiently for me at the door. Mi vida peaked out from the car looking at me with that same confused expression.

I couldn't help the huge grin spreading across my face. I skipped over and slid into the limo with a bit of a flourish. "Thanks, my man," I winked at him, and all I got was a curt nod. Nice.

The door shut softly behind me, sealing us inside this tiny universe of luxury. I sank into the lush black leather seat and let out a slow breath.

Damn. These cushions were slick as hell.

I looked around. This limo was huge—more like a rolling lounge than a car. The interior was decked out in sleek black leather with red accents, and for some reason there was a tiny chandelier hanging overhead, casting a soft, warm glow that made the whole space feel like a secret hideaway.

Momo's life must be straight-up fairy tale level.

"There are refreshments for you two during the drive," Alfred announced from the driver's seat, his voice polished and smooth.

I turned my head just in time to watch a small table rise elegantly out of the floor between our seats. My eyes went wide.

Where the hell did that come from!?

There were cold sodas, chips, and some fancy snacks laid out like a miniature banquet. This was the life.

I grabbed a bag of chips and, as the limo began to glide smoothly down the street, I let myself sink back and just enjoy the ride.

"Esto es genial."

(This is so cool.)

Then I noticed something. Mi vida was looking... upset?

My smile faltered. I sat up straighter and carefully placed the chips down before turning fully toward him.

"What's wrong, mi vida?"

He glanced around nervously, as if unsure how to say what was on his mind. Then, with a hesitant sigh, he met my eyes.

"Where are we going?"

"To the surprise," I said softly, running my thumb gently along his cheek.

I wondered if maybe he was still a little upset about me being late earlier.

I watched him lower his gaze again, and I frowned.

"Roki, what's wrong? This is supposed to be fun."

He took a deep breath, then looked me dead in the eyes with a serious expression I'd rarely seen before.

"I didn't know you liked older men."

...

...

...

What the fuck?

I blinked, genuinely thrown off. "What?"

"You winked at our driver," he said, voice calm but firm. "You said winks were signs of affection. You winked at him—on our date day."

Oh my god.

Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, he scoffed, crossed his arms, and turned his gaze out the window, completely ignoring me.

Wow. Just wow.

That just happened. And all on date day.

Roki, I love you to pieces, but seriously? Sometimes you're the densest guy I've ever met.

Still, I couldn't help but laugh quietly at how adorably serious he looked, stubborn and pouty all at once. Ever since we started hanging out, I've noticed he's been showing so many more emotions—not just cold or angry or his rare smiles—but little expressions that make him so much more real to me.

Like last night, when we danced in the dorm hallway, or whenever I asked him out and he looked that mix of nervous and excited.

And now this.

I'm in deep, and I'm ready for the ride.

"Roki," I said softly, turning back toward him, my voice low and gentle, "that's not what that means."

Mi vida slowly turned around, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow like he was about to call me out. "What are you talking about?"

I sighed, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. "Listen... whenever someone winks at someone else, it can mean a lot of things. Sometimes it's just a friendly gesture."

He blinked at me, looking skeptical. "But... you wink at me all the time. And we're dating..."

Damn. He had a point.

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "Well, that's different—"

"Is that why Kirishima winked at me today?"

I froze.

"What?"

"You heard me," he said, narrowing his eyes. "He winked at me."

My jaw nearly hit the limo floor. "He what?"

"Yeah. And I didn't think it was a 'friendly manner,' since he's literally dating Bakugou. But now you're over here winking at the driver in a way that definitely wasn't friendly either," mi vida said, trying to look serious but the TINIEST pout forming on his lips kind of ruined the effect.

I blinked. "Wait—wait, hold on. Kirishima winked at you?"

He nodded. "While I was waiting in the dorms. And he smiled. With teeth. It was suspicious."

I had to hold back a laugh. "Mi vida, Kirishima smiles at everyone."

"Yes, but he doesn't wink at everyone," he countered. "And then you wink at the driver like you're about to ask him for a date. It's sending mixed messages, Hanta."

I was officially speechless. I had never heard him talk this much in one go. And the fact that all of this was about winks? I couldn't take it anymore—I covered his mouth with my hand before I burst out laughing.

He blinked up at me, those big, pretty eyes slightly narrowed but softening under my touch.

"Stop rambling, mi vida," I whispered, unable to stop the grin pulling at my lips.

He blinked again, then slowly nodded, shoulders easing just the tiniest bit. I gently moved my hand away and scooted closer to him, letting out a soft sigh.

"Mi vida, listen," I said, voice quieter now, "I like you. That's why I wanted to take you out on this date. That's why I've been winking at you since before you even noticed. And if I winked at the driver, it was probably because I was nervous as hell. Not because I'm flirting with Alfred from the front seat."

Big facts. I was not about to risk everything for a dude who looked like he had a butler certification and 401k.

Even if he was rich.

No, Sero. Stop.

I shook the thought off and turned back to mi vida—only to find him looking down at his lap, his ears glowing red, cheeks pink, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

My heart did a little flip.

I smiled, because there it was again. That vulnerable, soft part of him that not many people got to see. The part that peeked out only when he felt safe enough to let it.

I couldn't resist—I leaned in and gently wrapped my arm around his shoulder, tugging him closer.

"Rooooki~" I sang softly.

He huffed and lightly pushed against me, but he didn't pull away. Not completely.

"Mi vidaaa~" I whispered again, resting my head on the curve of his neck and sneaking a few soft kisses there just to see him squirm.

He gasped softly. "Hanta, we're in a car."

"A limo, mi vida," I corrected, wiggling my brows. "There's mood lighting and leather seats. It's practically begging for romance."

"Hanta—" he started, but I silenced him with a kiss—quick, sweet, and full of affection.

He froze at first, like he always did when I surprised him, but then he kissed me back. Slow. Careful. Like he was still learning how to do this, how to be soft with someone, and each time he got a little better. A little braver.

When I pulled back, his face was redder than ever.

Adorable.

"Was that a friendly gesture?" I asked, one brow raised playfully.

He tilted his head like he was really thinking about it. "...Was it?" he asked innocently.

I groaned and facepalmed. "Jesus, you are so lucky you're cute."

And then—peck—I felt a kiss on my cheek. I turned, and there it was.

That rare, shy smile. His real smile.

"I was teasing you," he said softly, voice so quiet I nearly missed it over the hum of the car.

My heart? Gone. Melted. Disintegrated into glitter.

I laughed, wrapping both arms around him now, pulling him in until his head rested against my shoulder. To my amazement, he didn't resist. In fact, he snuggled in closer, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I held my breath for a second, just to savor the moment.

Because this? This was everything.

He was letting me hold him. Like really hold him. And not just physically, but emotionally too. He was letting me be the warm place he could lean into. The person he could flirt with, fight with, and still feel safe beside.

I brushed my fingers through his hair as he mumbled something I couldn't quite catch into my hoodie.

"What was that, mi vida?"

He peeked up at me with a slow blink. "You smell like cinnamon."

I blinked. "Uh. Thanks?"

He shrugged a little. "It's... nice."

I smiled. "That's just my shampoo. But you can pretend it's natural."

He rolled his eyes, but I could see the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

God, I love this boy.

I glanced toward the front of the limo, just in time to catch the driver looking at us in the rearview mirror.

And then... he winked at me.

My jaw dropped. I stared.

Did he hear all that?

Did he hear the "you smell like cinnamon" part??

Oh well.

I turned back to mi vida and kissed the top of his head.

I'm on a date with mi vida, in a freaking limo, with the prettiest boy alive practically curled by my side.

Best date night ever.

And the best part?

We were just getting started.

Chapter 15: Gardens

Notes:

HAPPY NATIONAL COUPLE DAY TO MY FAVORITE SHIP: SERO AND TODOROKI!!!!!

Extra long chapter for ya!

Third Person POV:

"Okay, Roki, cover your eyes for like ten seconds!"

Todoroki blinked as the limo door shut behind him, a little surprised at how immediately Sero had jumped into action. They'd barely stepped out into the crisp evening air when the taller boy spun around and practically begged him to shut his eyes.

"...Fine," Todoroki muttered, though the corners of his lips twitched with mild amusement. He closed his eyes obediently, hands tucked in his coat pockets. He could hear Sero scurrying around—his footsteps soft and excited, like a kid preparing a surprise.

Truthfully, Todoroki had no clue where they were. The limo ride had been purposefully vague. Sero had babbled about "something special" but gave no details. Now, standing in an unfamiliar breeze with his eyes closed, he couldn't lie and say he wasn't curious.

Or nervous. Or—dare he admit it—kind of thrilled.

He had never been surprised like this before. Not like this. His past dates, not that there were many, were all calculated, proper, expected. He was always the one in control, planning everything to avoid awkwardness or missteps. But Sero—Hanta—had flipped that on its head without even trying.

And he... liked it.

"Okay, Roki!" Sero's voice rang out, giddy and nervous. "Open your eyes!"

Todoroki inhaled slowly, then opened them.

He froze.

A small gasp escaped before he could stop it. His eyes widened, stunned by the sight before him.

They were inside a greenhouse—a massive, beautifully structured one, like something out of a dream. Delicate metal frames held up tall, curved glass walls, and warm golden fairy lights traced the ceiling beams. Inside, it was like springtime had bloomed early just for them.

Flowers of every color bloomed wildly in organized chaos: roses, lilies, orchids, and unfamiliar species he only recognized from textbooks. There were vines curling gently around the entrance archway, thick with greenery. The glass glistened with mist, and a gentle breeze carried the faint scent of lavender and something citrusy sweet.

At the center of it all was a cozy picnic table covered in a soft cream cloth. There were plush pillows around it for seating, a woven basket resting on top, and two tea candles flickering gently. Sero stood beside it, holding a small bouquet in his hands, beaming—but his smile wobbled with nerves.

Todoroki's breath caught in his throat. He didn't even think—his feet just moved forward, carrying him toward the scene like he was being drawn in by a spell.

"W-Well, Roki... whaddya think?" Sero called out, his grin turning sheepish as he watched Todoroki approach, still unreadable.

Todoroki didn't answer at first. His eyes flicked to Sero's hands—to the bouquet—and then back up to his face. His expression was unreadable, calm as always, but there was something electric just beneath the surface.

Sero started to panic a little. "L-Look, Roki, I know it's not the greatest or fanciest place or whatever, and I kinda did this last minute—but I just thought you might—"

"I love this," Todoroki said suddenly, voice quiet but firm.

Sero stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide. "Wait... what?"

Todoroki's gaze was locked on the greenhouse, his eyes shimmering. "This... this is beautiful. All of it. The flowers, the breeze, the table. It's perfect."

And then, something even rarer happened.

He smiled.

Not one of his polite, tight-lipped ones.

A real, soft smile that stretched his features and made his eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the edges.

Sero stared at him like he'd just witnessed a shooting star.

"You... You do like it?" he asked, voice cracking slightly, still afraid he was dreaming.

Todoroki nodded so fast it made his bangs bounce a little. "Yes. Oh yes. This place is incredible. It's like a dream, Hanta. And these flowers... they're..." His gaze dropped to the bouquet, suddenly soft and reverent.

Sero cleared his throat, heart pounding. "Uh—yeah, those. So, uh... I noticed you, like, always pausing to look at certain purple flowers on your phone sometimes. You did it a couple times when we were hanging out and I didn't know what the name was. So I asked Tokoyami, and he told me you talked about Autumn bellflowers a lot. So, uh... I made sure we had some."

Todoroki's breath hitched. His fingers brushed the soft petals of the bouquet. Autumn bellflowers. The same kind that bloomed on his mother's windowsill in the hospital. The same ones she always smiled at when she talked about someone she never named—just "a kind person."

He hadn't seen them in person for a while. And now, they were in his hands.

His throat felt tight.

He blinked rapidly, then looked back up at Sero, who was still watching him like he might break at any second.

" This was before we started dating, you looked like you really like them and you mentioned them before so I just had to." Sero gave the other a nervous laugh.

"You remembered that?" Todoroki asked softly.

"Of course I did," Sero answered, smiling gently now. "I remember everything about you."

There was a silence.

Not awkward. Just full.

Todoroki took a small step closer and gently cradled the bouquet to his chest. "Thank you."

Sero's heart might've exploded if Todoroki hadn't grabbed his hand just then.

"C'mon," he said, voice more relaxed now, "Let me show you what I brought."

Sero gently guided Todoroki over to the setup, his hand never quite letting go of his. When they reached the table, he spread his arms wide like a proud chef presenting his masterpiece.

"Okay, okay, so!" he began, slightly breathless, cheeks already dusted pink. "I brought soba for you—duh, like obviously, you practically live off the stuff. And I remembered that time you went absolutely feral over that strawberry shortcake back at the dorms, so boom—we got that too."

He nudged the picnic basket open a bit more and revealed neatly packed containers, carefully labeled and sealed.

"Then I got a bunch of Hispanic food I wanted you to try—but not too much, I swear! I didn't want to overwhelm you. And—and I begged my mom to make some empanadas last-minute, and she actually said yes. They're still warm."

He grinned nervously, scratching the back of his head. "For drinks, I brought your favorite tea—like, the exact brand you always pick at the store—and a couple of those fancy sparkling sodas for me. Also, some more even bougier sparkling water in case we wanna pretend we're in a drama or something."

He finished with a deep inhale, trying to play it cool, but his voice wavered just slightly. His heart felt like it was trying to escape through his ribs.

"Do I, uh... do I pass Date Night 101?"

Todoroki didn't answer at first.

He glanced at the food, at the table lit softly by the string lights above, at the arrangement of everything. It was warm. It was intentional. It was personal.

Then he looked back at Sero, who was still nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek.

And Sero—Sero was trembling with the effort to seem calm. His hands were fidgeting behind his back now, his knee bouncing slightly where he stood. 'Roki is going out with me. With me!' he was screaming internally.

He felt like throwing up from nerves, like his stomach had been doing cartwheels since they stepped into the greenhouse—but he swallowed it down with a shaky smile, trying his best to hold Todoroki's gaze.

"So, um... w-what do you think, Todoroki?" he asked softly.

The name brought Todoroki back from where his thoughts had been drifting. He blinked down at the bouquet in his hands—at the delicate Autumn bellflowers—and then up again to the warm eyes of the boy standing in front of him.

Todoroki's breath caught.

Maybe he was being dramatic. Maybe he was just being sentimental. But Sero's smile felt like the brightest thing in the entire greenhouse. It wasn't just his white teeth or his tall posture or the way he was backlit by golden lights—it was him.

It was his presence. His energy. The way he looked at Todoroki like he mattered.

That same tightening-in-the-chest feeling returned, and Todoroki felt himself slipping into it without resistance.

That familiar fluttering in his stomach—the one he'd felt the first time Sero kissed him.

That dizzy, lightheaded sensation he got when the older boy complimented his hair or told him he liked his voice or just smiled at him when he thought no one was watching.

That odd, surreal peace that settled in his bones whenever Sero held his hand. Whenever he called him mi vida.

These weren't feelings Todoroki was used to.

They weren't like anything he'd felt before—not even with Midoriya. That had been comfort, yes, but this? This was something new. This was something warm. Something electric.

Something real.

"Roki?" Sero's voice broke through his thoughts, softer now, hesitant. He took a small step closer, his brows drawn in concern.

"Do you... not like it?" he asked, quieter this time, unsure.

Todoroki's eyes widened. No, no, no—

'No—I love it,' he wanted to say, scream, but the words lodged in his throat. Everything was just so much. His chest was tight with emotion, too full to let the right words out. He stared helplessly at the scene around him—the effort, the care, the intimacy—and felt his voice betray him.

Sero took his silence the wrong way. He let out a tiny, nervous laugh, trying to mask the sinking feeling in his gut.

"I-I mean... we can go somewhere else?" he offered quickly, trying to hide the disappointment behind his grin. "We could go to that café you liked? Or even just walk around—seriously, I don't mind—"

But he didn't finish the sentence.

Because in the next second, Todoroki had moved.

The half-and-half boy stepped forward and threw his arms around Sero's neck, burying his face into the curve of his shoulder with sudden, quiet urgency.

Sero froze, stunned.

His arms hovered for a second, unsure—until he heard Todoroki's voice, muffled and trembling against his neck.

"...Thank you."

That was all he said.

But that was everything.

Sero's face softened completely. His heart thudded so hard it nearly made his knees buckle. Slowly, gently, he wrapped his arms around Todoroki's waist and held him there like he was something precious.

And he was.

"Of course, mi vida," Sero whispered against the soft strands of Todoroki's hair.

He pulled back just a little—just enough to press a kiss to the crown of Todoroki's head.

Todoroki didn't let go. He stood there, still wrapped around him, still holding the bouquet against Sero's back. He was warm. He was safe.

"I love this," Sero heard the red-and-white-haired boy sniff, voice barely above a whisper.

Sero chuckled, voice low and fond. "No problemo mi vida."

They stood there like that for a while, swaying just slightly as music filtered in from Sero's phone speaker—some soft playlist Jirou had helped him put together earlier that day, saying, "Trust me, this track will melt anyone."

It was melting him.

Eventually, Todoroki pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes slightly glassy but glowing. "No one's ever done something like this for me before."

"I wanted to," Sero said simply. "You deserve it."

Todoroki blinked hard and looked away, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from doing something embarrassing, like crying. Again.

Sero noticed and leaned in, bumping their foreheads together. "Hey. None of that. It's a date night, remember? No crying unless it's from how good the food is."

Todoroki huffed a laugh through his nose. "Your mom's empanadas might do that to me."

"Right?" Sero grinned proudly. "They've made Bakugou cry. He swore it was from spice, but he was sniffing suspiciously."

That earned a small, real smile from Todoroki. "Can we sit?"

"Absolutely," Sero said quickly, guiding him to the blanket-covered bench and pulling him close once they sat.

The meal passed in soft, loving chatter. Todoroki tried each dish slowly, thoughtfully, making sure to comment on every flavor. Sero watched him more than he ate, his eyes constantly flicking to the curve of Todoroki's mouth, the way he closed his eyes when he savored something, the quiet hums of contentment he let slip.

Halfway through the strawberry shortcake, Todoroki reached across the small table and took Sero's hand, unprompted.

It startled Sero so much he dropped his fork.

"I want you to know," Todoroki said quietly, "That I feel safe with you."

Sero blinked. His heart cracked open just a little wider. "I'm... really glad," he whispered. "You don't have to be anyone else around me. Just you is more than enough."

Todoroki looked at him for a long, quiet moment. Then leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Sero's cheek.

"More than enough," Todoroki echoed.

From the other side of the greenhouse, behind a thick layer of plants, something rustled—probably Mina trying to sneak a peek.

Sero ignored it. Right now, it was just him and Todoroki.

And the warmth between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

This is the best date ever.

Like. Ever.

Okay, yeah—I know I said that before. And yeah, it's technically my first date ever, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm currently living the actual, literal dream.

We ate. We laughed. We existed together. And for the first time in maybe... ever, I felt like I was right where I was supposed to be.

Right here. With him.

And I must've been riding that emotional high way too hard, because at some point, I totally slipped up and called him mi amor.

Like, out loud. Like a total idiot.

I almost face-planted into the churro tray right after, but I recovered. Barely. I don't think mi vida even noticed—he was too busy eating his weight in my mamá's cinnamon sugar masterpiece like I'd just served him happiness on a napkin.

Thank god.

Because yeah, calling someone mi amor after three days of dating them might be, I don't know, slightly insane.

And not to mention dangerous. Mi vida still so new to all of this—love, affection, someone being... gentle with him.

And yet, somehow—despite all that—he picked me.

That still blows my mind every time I think about it.

But nothing—and I mean nothing—could have prepared me for what came next.

We were sitting down, legs tangled together on that cozy old picnic blanket I borrowed from my sister, and he just... opened up. Like I said some magic phrase that told his heart it was finally safe to breathe.

He told me about the scar.

He told me about his mom.

He told me how Endeavor treated him like a blueprint instead of a kid. How he was trained, not raised. How birthdays felt more like milestones to check off rather than something to celebrate.

And then... he told me how he wasn't allowed to play.

Not just with other kids. Not even with his siblings.

He told me about the way the windows in his house felt like barriers instead of light. How he used to watch the neighborhood kids run and shout and fall into grass-stained laughter, and wonder what it felt like to skin your knees chasing someone down a hill.

And I just... sat there, trying not to cry, while his voice trembled its way through the parts of himself he's never let anyone see.

I didn't say anything for a while.

I didn't know what to say. What do you say to someone who just handed you the most fragile parts of themselves? Who's still learning that love doesn't always come with conditions or countdowns?

So I didn't talk. I listened. I held him.

And I told him, quietly, that I was proud of him.

That it was okay to hurt.

That it was okay to not be okay.

And when he told me that people always left—that he was "made for abandonment"—my heart shattered so loud I was surprised the greenhouse didn't crack.

He said when Midoriya left, it just confirmed what he already believed: that he wasn't enough.

That he was too cold. Too much. Too complicated. Too quiet. Too hard to love.

But I looked him in the eyes and said, "Then thank god Midoriya left."

Because now he's mine.

And I know I'm not perfect. I know I joke too much and talk too loud and get nervous and say stuff like mi amor when I probably shouldn't. But I also know this: I would never walk away from Shoto Todoroki.

Not when he's finally starting to smile with his whole face. Not when he's finally starting to lean into my touch without flinching. Not when he says my name like it's a soft place to land.

No way. Not ever.

And okay, maybe we did start making out after that.

And maybe I felt like I was going to float straight into the ceiling when he touched my jaw so gently, like I was made of paper lanterns and not skin and muscle and a hoodie with churro crumbs on it.

We didn't talk for a while after that. Just kissed and breathed and smiled like dorks. Then we wanted more food. And we absolutely annihilated those empanadas like two teenagers who'd just discovered taste buds.

And then—I gave him the churros.

My mom's recipe. The ones I used to sneak out of the kitchen with when I was five and hide under my bed like treasure. The ones she makes whenever she knows I've had a bad day.

When I handed him the napkin-wrapped bundle, Roki blinked at it like he didn't know what it was.

"Churros," I grinned. "Try one."

And holy hell, his eyes. I swear, they lit up like I'd just handed him a miracle. I've never seen someone eat sugar that reverently.

"Wait, you've never had one before?" I asked.

He shook his head, mouth full, eyes wide. "My father didn't allow sweets. Said they were unnecessary."

I swear I saw red for a second.

But I didn't say anything. I just smiled, soft and quiet and a little sad.

And I made a silent vow right then and there.

I'm going to give him everything he missed.

The candy. The games. The dumb animated movies with bad dub jobs. The lazy Sunday mornings where we do nothing but hold each other and talk about nothing. The late-night walks and the forehead kisses and the inside jokes and all of it.

Because he deserves it.

He deserves more.

And now we're here, lying under a maple blossom tree, watching the sunset paint the sky in golds and soft purples like it knows we're in love and wants to show off.

Roki's tucked against me like I'm his pillow, and I don't want to move. I don't even want to blink.

I let out a long, contented sigh, the kind that stretches your chest wide open and makes everything feel easier.

And he lifts his head, blinking sleepily. "Hanta? Are you alright?"

I glance down.

God.

Those eyes. Those beautiful mismatched eyes, flushed face. That unsure look like he still half-expects me to run.

"Everything's perfect," I whisper. "Just... perfect."

He lets out a sigh of his own and presses his face to my chest again, wrapping around my torso like a human scarf. "I hope I'm not crushing you," he mumbles.

I laugh. "Mi vida, you're like a heated blanket. A really cute cuddly one."

He shifts again, sitting up this time, his hair all messy and glowing in the evening light. "Are you sure it's okay that I'm hugging you? Is it too much? Because if it is, I could stop—"

"Roki," I say, soft but steady.

He freezes mid-apology.

And I take his hand.

I kiss his hand.

"Listen to me. I love when you hug me. I love every single second that you let yourself be close to me. But only if you're okay with it."

He blinked, lips parting like he was trying to figure out how to process that. Like the idea of being wanted—of being safe—was still foreign to him. Like he'd never really heard that kind of permission before. Not in a way that felt real.

And I hated that.

I don't know who made him feel like affection was something dangerous. Or selfish. Or something he had to earn. But I swear, I'm going to spend the rest of my life proving them wrong. Every day. Every second. Every touch. I want him to know that he is not a burden—that being loved is his right, not a prize he has to work for.

Three days. That's all it's been.

And somehow, I already know how to tell when he's about to cry, when he's overwhelmed, or when he needs me to not speak and just be there.

I've memorized the way his fingers twitch before he reaches out—how his hand always hesitates for half a second like he's afraid I might pull away. I know the way his voice gets soft and fast when he's nervous. And the way he leans into affection like he's afraid it might disappear if he breathes too hard.

And I think—if I'm really, really lucky—I might get to be the person who teaches him that it won't.

This day? This date?

It's not just good. It's not just romantic.

It's everything.

He glanced over his shoulder before laying back down on my chest and wrapping his arms around me. I let out a soft giggle, my arms looping around him automatically. My hand found his back, rubbing gentle circles. He melted into it, sighing so softly that it barely registered.

I made sure to learn which parts of him were off-limits. I respect those boundaries like they're sacred. Because they are. He has a complicated relationship with touch and I never want him to flinch because of me.

For starters, he doesn't like when anyone touches his scar. Totally understandable. But the part that caught me off guard? He absolutely refuses to be touched under his arms. Not because of trauma.

Because he's ticklish.

And I swear to God, that's the most adorable thing I've ever discovered.

I may have laughed a little too loud when he told me, which almost got my eyebrows singed off when he threatened to blast me with ice. So—no tickles. For now.

But other than that, everything else is fair game. And affectionate Roki? Is my new religion. I mean—I love Roki in every form.

Stoic Roki. Sleepy Roki. Powerful Roki. Sass-master Roki. But affectionate Roki?

That boy is just...soft. Caring. Gentle. He doesn't know it yet, but he likes hugging the most.

And that just so happens to be my favorite too.

Man, how did I get so lucky?

"Hanta?" he murmured.

My heart skipped. "Yes~ mi vida?"

He lifted his head, resting his chin on my chest. I glanced down and saw those soft, moonlight-colored eyes staring up at me, full of quiet warmth. I swear he doesn't even know how cute he is.

"I really enjoyed this date."

My eyes widened, caught off guard by the honesty in his voice. But then they softened, a smile creeping onto my face as I rubbed gentle circles on his back.

"You did?" I asked, voice low.

He nodded softly, his voice quieter than before. "Mhm. This was very... romantic."

My face turned so red I thought I might combust. Still, I managed to pull together a prideful smirk because hey, I'm supposed to be the smooth one here.

"Well, I did warn you before, Roki," I said with a wink. "I am the man of romance."

That made him laugh—really laugh. Not a chuckle. Not one of those quiet exhales he usually does.

No—this was a full, warm, happy laugh. And it was beautiful.

The tips of my ears burned. I couldn't help it. I was so smitten. Especially when he looked up at me with that soft smile—the one he doesn't show anyone else—and leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to my cheek.

"Yes, you are," he whispered.

That did it.

This boy is going to be the death of me.

"I would like to go on another date," he said softly, as if the idea itself was a gift he was still getting used to offering.

I raised an eyebrow and wiggled them playfully, "Well well well, mi vida, this date isn't officially over just yet~"

He tilted his head—his classic little confused head tilt—and blinked. "It's not?"

"Nope!" I grinned. "I still have one more surprise for you."

His eyes lit up, curiosity piqued, lips curving in the faintest smile. "What is it?"

I leaned in close, brushing my nose against his. "Guess you'll just have to follow me and find out~"

He groaned softly but got up with a smile anyway, letting me pull him to his feet, hand in hand.

Best date of my life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV

Hanta is... amazing.

No, seriously—he's amazing.

It's not just that he's kind or funny or attractive in a way that makes my heart stutter when he smiles at me—it's more than that. It's the way he listens. The way he sees people. The way he looks at me like I'm worth loving, even when I don't believe it myself.

Sometimes I catch myself just watching him. Like now.

He's sitting across from me, a tabby kitten batting at his fingers while he laughs quietly under his breath. His nose scrunches up when he smiles. His hair's a little messy from earlier when we were running through the gardens and he almost tripped over a curb—but he caught himself and made some joke about saving face in front of the local pigeons.

And somehow, that memory has lived rent-free in my brain for the past hour.

I smiled to myself and looked down, my fingers gently stroking the tiny black and white kitten curled up in my lap. She was so small, her body warm and soft, vibrating with purrs like a little heartbeat you could hold in your hands. I didn't even realize how badly I needed this. The quiet. The warmth. The peace.

Hanta did this for me.

He knew I liked cats—he remembered a passing comment I made once, weeks ago—and he decided to surprise me by taking me to this cozy little cat café on the corner of 5th and Juniper. It's a place I've walked past a dozen times but never dared to step inside. I told myself it was because of school. Or patrols. Or training.

But the truth is... I didn't think I deserved something this soft. This quiet. This gentle.

Especially not after everything.

I guess he must have talked to Tokoyami, since the only people I'd ever mentioned the café to were him and—well, someone I'm no longer dating. It doesn't matter anymore. What matters is Hanta remembered. And he followed through. Just like he always does.

First that picnic in the garden—he made everything himself, even brought cold soba just for me—and then this café full of purring cats and soft blankets and cinnamon lattes that taste like a warm hug. He brought me flowers, complimented my hair like five times, and never once made me feel like I was being too much or not enough.

He just... held space for me. And made it safe.

And that? That means everything.

At some point—maybe somewhere between the food and the laughter—I decided to open up to him.

Really open up. I told him things I haven't told anyone outside of my family. Things about my past. My mother. My scar. My father. Things I normally keep locked up so tightly I forget they're there.

And Hanta didn't flinch.

He didn't try to fix me or tell me to "stay positive" or "get over it"—phrases I've heard so many times I've lost count. I was bracing myself for that. I expected him to meet my pain with toxic optimism or dismissiveness. After all, he hangs out with Denki and Kirishima—the walking posters for "positive vibes only."

But he didn't.

Instead, he just listened.

And then he said something I'll never forget.

He told me it was okay to feel this way. That I was brave for being vulnerable. That my feelings weren't a weakness—they were proof that I was alive, that I was healing, that I was human.

Do you know how rare it is to be told that it's okay to feel?

All my life, I've been trained to suppress anything emotional. To bury it deep beneath control and logic. To treat pain like a virus and push it out before it infected my mission. Emotions were distractions. They made you sloppy. Vulnerable. Weak.

But Hanta didn't see it that way.

He told me that I didn't have to perform for anyone. I didn't have to fake being okay, or force myself to be positive when I wasn't. That I could just be. Angry. Sad. Quiet. Whatever I needed.

And that he'd still be there.

Something about that—something about the gentleness in his voice, the honesty in his eyes—shifted something in me. It reminded me of the way I felt during the Sports Festival, when I finally stood up and used both sides of myself. When I let myself feel everything.

This felt like that. Like claiming something I thought I lost.

And I don't think Hanta even realizes the impact his words had. But I do. I do, and I will never forget them.

He made me feel seen. Not just the version of me that gets top marks or shows up on time to training. All of me. Even the scared, insecure, messy parts.

And I'm starting to think that maybe... maybe I want to keep showing him more.

Not because I owe him. Not because I feel guilty.

But because I trust him.

And for someone like me, that trust doesn't come easy.

So as I sit here, stroking the soft kitten curled up on my lap, my eyes occasionally drifting over to the boy who's been quietly changing my world one smile at a time—I feel something I haven't let myself feel in a long, long time.

Hope.

And maybe even a little bit of joy.

I glance back at Hanta.

He catches me staring, and just like that, he smiles—like the sun decided to rise just for me.

My heart lurches. I can feel it in my throat, behind my ribs, in the tips of my fingers. I turn my gaze quickly, pretending to focus on the kitten purring in my lap. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough on its soft fur, I can will away the heat blooming in my face.

But it doesn't help.

Because the warmth in my chest isn't embarrassment. Not really. It's... affection. Overwhelming and sudden and quiet. And I think it's been there for a while now, slowly gathering behind my ribs every time Hanta looks at me like that.

Like I matter.

Like I'm wanted.

I don't have to pretend around him. I don't have to fake my calmness or filter my emotions or push my anxiety into the corner of my mind and lock it away like I've done my whole life. When I told him how unsure I was about dating again, how much it scared me—he didn't make me feel small.

He told me it was okay. That I was okay.

That being scared didn't make me broken.

That anxiety didn't make me difficult.

I don't think he'll ever know how much that meant to me.

Hanta's not just trying—he's showing up. He's listening, really listening. He's paying attention in a way no one ever has. Like earlier, when I started rambling without meaning to, hands fidgeting in my lap, unsure how much to share—he didn't interrupt. He didn't judge. He reached out and gave me a hug without saying a word.

Just held me. Like he knew that's what I needed.

He's always been like this. Even before we started dating. When things were hard with my last relationship, or when I couldn't find the words to explain the ache in my chest, he never pushed me. Never demanded explanations or timelines or solutions.

He just stayed. Beside me. Patient. Present.

And I think... that's what I've been needing all along. Someone who doesn't try to fix me. Someone who just sees me.

Sometimes I wonder if he has another quirk—one that lets him read minds or sense emotions—but he laughs when I suggest it. He always says he's just good at reading people.

But I still think that counts as a quirk. It might even be stronger than any physical power. Because how else could he understand me so deeply without me even speaking?

I glance up.

He's feeding the kittens again, a sleepy little orange tabby curled on his lap and purring like a tiny engine. His fingers move gently, carefully, like he knows just how small and soft the world can be when you treat it kindly.

He's... beautiful.

His skin glows in the warm light of the café, deeper and richer than mine. His hair, pulled into a loose ponytail today, sways when he laughs—and I swear it looks softer than anything I've ever touched. I want to run my fingers through it. I want to memorize the shape of him on days like this.

He usually wears it down, but the ponytail suits him in a way that makes my breath catch.

It's weird.

Growing up, I was told boys couldn't be pretty. That beauty was for girls, for softness I was meant to crush out of myself if I ever wanted to be strong.

But Hanta calls me pretty all the time.

The first time, I thought he was joking. When I asked him why he'd say something like that, he just smiled and said, "Because it's true."

I told him I didn't think boys could be pretty. He tilted his head and said, "Everyone's pretty. Doesn't matter your gender, your race, your quirk, your scars—beauty's in being."

When I asked him why I was pretty, he looked me dead in the eye and said, "You're not just pretty. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

I blushed so hard the librarian asked if I was going to commit arson.

Since that day, I've accepted the truth:

Hanta Sero is beautiful. Inside and out.

I must've been staring again because he turns and catches me.

"My my, Roki," he says with a teasing grin. "Am I that handsome today?"

I quickly look down at my cheesecake, cheeks burning. "I'm sorry."

"Mi vida," he murmurs, voice warm and low, "Don't apologize. You're my boyfriend. You can stare all you want."

I glance up again. He's still smiling at me like I hung the stars.

And... I smile back. Because being called his boyfriend? It feels... good. It feels right.

"I'll never understand your teasing," I mutter under my breath.

His laughter rings out, soft and golden. And I realize I really, really love his laugh. It's warm like the sun on my face after a long winter. It's comforting. Safe.

How did I get this lucky?

I watch him as he gently sets the kitten down and moves toward me, sliding into the booth beside me. His thigh brushes mine. I feel the contact like a spark.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder, drawing me in. And when I meet his eyes, they're full of something that makes my stomach flutter.

"Eres perfecto para mí, mi encantador novio."

I blink.

We've been studying Spanish together—mostly so I can understand the sweet things he keeps whispering to me.

"You're... perfect for me, my lovely boyfriend?" I translate slowly.

He nods. My heart trips over itself.

My cheeks are on fire. I can feel the heat creeping up my scar. My stomach is doing somersaults. I've fought villains. I've survived my childhood. But this boy—this gentle, genuine boy—is what gets to me.

He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, then winks. Winks.

I don't understand how someone can affect me this much just by existing.

Is this his quirk?

"Roki?" he says softly.

"Hmm?" I'm still reeling, trying to remember how to breathe.

"I want you to know that... I'm going to try. I mean really try. To be the boyfriend you deserve."

I stop.

His voice is so serious, but not in a heavy way. It's soft, full of something delicate and sincere and quietly brave.

I look up.

And that's when it hits me.

This is why Hanta has this hold on me.

Not because of a quirk. Not because of mind games. But because of his heart.

Because when he says something, he means it.

Because he cares. And he wants me to know it.

He's not trying to impress me. He's just being... him.

And that's more than enough.

"Thank you, Hanta and I'll do the same for you," I whisper.

Then I lean in and kiss his cheek.

He grins—bright and sweet—and squeezes me closer.

"I like being with you," he murmurs into my hair.

And those five words?

They stay with me. Like a hand in mine. Like sunlight on my skin. Like the beginning of something I want to protect forever.

"Hanta," I say softly, "I like being with you too."

And I mean it.

With everything I've got.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person's POV:

It was 8 o'clock in Class 1-A's dorms, and the air was comfortably warm with the gentle hum of conversation and soft background music playing from someone's phone speaker. The students weren't doing anything in particular—no game night, no study session, not even one of Kaminari's infamous "Uno death matches." They were just... existing. Together. In the most peaceful, unspoken way.

Even Bakugou was there. Though, let's be clear—that was purely because Kirishima had dragged him out of their room after Denki begged him to "loosen Lord Explosion Murder up a little." Bakugou didn't appreciate the phrasing, but somehow, here he was. Nestled—grudgingly—on Kirishima's lap, earbuds in, aggressively ignoring everyone else while scrolling through his phone. Kirishima, meanwhile, lazily played with Bakugou's spiky hair while talking to Mina and Denki about absolutely nothing.

Jirou sat nearby, legs tucked under her, occasionally adding a snarky comment or dry observation. She wasn't particularly invested in the conversation, but she liked being around the noise.

In the kitchen, Momo, Sato, Hagakure, Tsuyu, and Uraraka were gathered like a well-oiled team, working together to prepare dinner. The comforting scent of curry and rice, soy glaze, and fresh garlic filled the air, giving the dorm a sense of home that no amount of hero training could replicate.

Across the room, Midoriya, Iida, and Tokoyami were in a heated—but polite—debate over a book they had all coincidentally read. Something about tactical hero planning and emotional intelligence. Shoji would occasionally lean in to add a quiet, insightful comment. Koda, as always, sat beside them, quietly nodding and enjoying the dynamic from the sidelines.

Now as for Mineta?

No one knew. No one asked. No one cared.

For all they knew, he could've been lost in the laundry room again—or eaten by a stray Nomu. Both were equally likely.

So the atmosphere was mellow. Cozy. Safe. The kind of evening that made you want to melt into the cushions and never leave.

That was, until Mina leaned forward, an impish glint in her eyes and a suspiciously innocent tone in her voice.

"So... have you guys heard from Sero today?"

Kirishima let out a small chuckle, but Denki narrowed his eyes immediately. "Wait. No? He said he had errands, right?"

Mina's lips curled into a mysterious smile. "Maaaaybe~."

Denki raised a brow. "Okay but seriously... where is he? I haven't gotten a single meme from him all day. That's a red flag."

Before Mina could answer, Uraraka strolled out of the kitchen, licking curry sauce off her thumb. "Oh! Sero? I think he said he had a date or something today."

The room froze.

Jirou blinked. "A... what?"

Mina's and Kirishima's eyes widened like they were caught red-handed. The air grew still as every head turned toward Uraraka, who suddenly looked like a deer in headlights.

"W-What?" she asked nervously.

"Sero's on a date?!" Jirou snorted.

Denki clutched his chest like he'd been stabbed. "AND HE DIDN'T TELL ME?! Me?! His ride-or-die best friend since orientation?!"

Tokoyami didn't even look up from his book. "I wonder why," he murmured, deadpan.

Denki slumped over dramatically, groaning into the couch cushion.

"I mean... good for him," Ojiro said, sipping his tea. "I'm glad he's seeing someone."

Then came Bakugou's grumble, right on cue. "Wait— hold the hell up. That Tape Face loser got a date?"

Kirishima rolled his eyes. "I thought you couldn't hear anything?"

"I didn't have my music all the way up," Bakugou replied casually, pulling out one earbud. "Besides, you were all yelling."

He turned to Denki, narrowing his eyes. "And you, Dunce Face—if you breathe a word about what happened yesterday, I will blast your stupid ass into the stratosphere."

Denki immediately went pale. "I—I didn't say anything! I swear!"

"Guys, come on," Iida stood and began pacing. "We should be happy for Sero—but remind him that maintaining a relationship must not interfere with his hero studies!"

"God, Iida, let the man kiss someone," Jirou sighed.

Mina waved her hand dismissively. "Anyway! It's really not a big deal. Who he dates is his business."

Denki wasn't having it. "No, who is it? That guy from the mall last week? Or that girl at the cafe—no wait! That tall girl from the club! I knew they had chemistry!"

Mina groaned and swatted him with a pillow.

Shoji calmly added, "Maybe it's someone we don't know. It's not really our place to pry."

"Yeah, Mina and Shoji are right," Kirishima added. "It's... unmanly t-to meddle in a friend's private life."

But something in his voice wavered.

Bakugou noticed.

He turned his gaze to Kirishima with an unnervingly calm look. "...Shitty Hair. Why are you nervous?"

Kirishima straightened like a soldier caught lying. "I—I'm not!"

"Yeah, you are. You get that weird squeak in your voice when you lie," Bakugou said without missing a beat. "You do it every time you say you 'didn't cry' during the latest All Might documentary."

Kirishima's face turned beet red. "N-No I don't—!"

Mina let out a high-pitched squeal. "Okay but can we appreciate how Bakugou knows when his boyfriend lies? That's, like, so couple goals!"

Hagakure laughed along with her while Bakugou shot a death glare at everyone—except Kirishima. His scowl melted into suspicion.

"You know about Tape Face's date," Bakugou said slowly, glaring at Kirishima.

Kirishima looked from Bakugou to Mina to the entire room staring at him, and panic bloomed in his chest. Mina mouthed "Don't say anything," but Bakugou's expression said, "You better talk or I swear to God."

Kirishima cracked like a cheap phone screen.

"NO—I-I DON'T! R-Right, Mina?!"

Mina facepalmed. "Bro. Seriously?"

"YOU TOO?!" Denki gasped, pointing accusingly at both of them. "You guys knew and didn't tell me?!"

Momo emerged from the kitchen, apron still on, as she overheard the conversation. "Oh, are you talking about how we helped him set up for his date without realizing it was a date?"

Mina turned to her, jaw dropped. "Momo!"

Momo blinked. "Oh. Oops."

"Okay, ENOUGH!" Hagakure stood and grabbed Mina's shoulders like she was shaking answers out of her. "Who. Is. He. Dating?!"

"Yeah!" Denki added, now looking more hurt than dramatic. "Why didn't he tell me?! I thought we told each other everything..."

Midoriya gently stepped in. "Maybe Sero just... didn't want to share it yet. That's okay, right?"

Hagakure pouted. "But we wouldn't judge him!"

"Speak for yourself," Bakugou muttered, picking at his nails.

Kirishima sighed and looked over at Mina, who nodded silently.

Mina stood up and faced the group, arms crossed. Her face was serious now. "Alright, listen. Sero didn't want me to tell anyone. And I respect that. He trusted me, and I'm not going to break that trust. So if you're really his friends, back off. He'll tell you when he's ready."

Silence blanketed the room like fog.

A few students looked down, properly chastised. Iida nodded solemnly. Jirou bit her lip. Even Uraraka looked regretful.

But not Denki.

Denki was pissed.

He crossed his arms, face twitching between betrayal and deep hurt. "I just... thought he'd tell me. I tell him everything. Even the time I accidentally flirted with my own reflection—like, everything."

Before anyone could offer comfort, Bakugou cocked his head.

"Huh. Wasn't that icy-hot bastard dressed up earlier too?"

The room tensed.

Mina and Kirishima shared a sharp glance. Midoriya's eyes flickered toward the window. His expression fell.

Denki turned slowly. His gaze locked on his best friends.

When he saw their faces—Kirishima's nervous sweat, Mina's pinched lips, even Midoriya's awkward silence—his stomach dropped.

His voice came out quiet.

"He didn't."

Denki's voice was barely above a whisper, but the silence that followed made it land like a thunderclap. Everyone froze.

He stared down at his lap, his fists tightening slowly, knuckles pale. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension in the air so thick it could be sliced in two.

Before anything could escalate further, Sato lifted his hands and said calmly, "Come on, Bakugou. Be sensitive for once."

Bakugou scoffed, tossing the TV remote aside. "Sensitive? Why? It's not like it wasn't obvious."

Hagakure crossed her arms, her voice slightly defensive, "Yeah, there's no way Todoroki would start dating again. Not this soon, not after everything he's been through."

Uraraka noticed Midoriya's face—the way his jaw clenched, his brows lowered, his eyes distant—and reached out, gently patting his back. Her fingers lingered for a second longer than usual.

Midoriya turned to her, startled, but relaxed slightly when he saw the understanding in her eyes. He gave her a faint smile before looking back at the center of the room, where things were only getting worse.

"Besides," Momo added, attempting to inject logic into the situation, "I thought Todoroki said he was going home for the weekend. Right, Tokoyami?"

Tokoyami didn't even glance up from his book. "I do not know where the flames of romance guide him."

Momo blinked. "That's... not helpful."

Bakugou snorted. "Fucking poets, man."

But Denki had heard enough.

He shot to his feet so fast the coffee table rattled. "Sero's supposed to be my best friend," he said, eyes locked on Mina and Kirishima. "And I'm a little pissed that he told you guys instead of me!"

Kirishima lifted both hands. "Whoa, Denki—chill, man. It kinda came out by accident—"

"But you still didn't tell me!" Denki snapped, his voice rising.

"That's because we promised him," Mina shot back, frustration creeping into her tone. "He asked us not to say anything."

"Oh, come on! What's the big deal? He's dating someone. So what?" Jirou muttered, reclining further back with a gummy worm between her lips.

"Ribbit. I agree," Tsuyu nodded. "We should respect his privacy."

"Thank you!" Mina snapped, clapping once.

Denki clenched his jaw so hard it looked painful. "You guys are supposed to be my friends. Not keeping secrets like this."

"Denki, it's not our secret to tell," Kirishima insisted again, more firmly this time.

"Oh, but you two can gossip about it behind my back, huh?" Denki's voice cracked.

Midoriya moved forward slightly, his expression full of concern. "Guys, maybe we should just—"

"Midoriya respectfully stay out of it! You're not even part of this!" Denki shouted, his frustration bubbling over.

"Denki!" Momo gasped, her voice sharp with reprimand.

"Denki, seriously," Mina warned, her fists clenched now. "What do you want us to say?! We don't owe you every detail of someone else's life!"

"Well maybe you don't know what being a friend even means!" Denki yelled, eyes now glassy.

"Alright, that's enough!" Iida shouted, stepping in. "This conversation has become completely inappropriate and emotionally charged—"

"No one's talking to you either, Iida!" Denki snapped.

"Whoa, whoa," Kirishima stepped between them, arms out. "Let's all just—"

"No! You!" Denki turned on Kirishima. "You knew. And you didn't say a damn thing to me, Kiri. I thought we were best friends. What the hell, man?!"

Kirishima faltered. "Dude... I didn't want to break Sero's trust. I—I thought you'd understand..."

Denki's eyes shimmered with betrayal. "Well, I don't. And you know what? Keeping secrets like that? That's not manly. That's fake."

"Denki, don't—" Kirishima began, but was interrupted.

"Okay, hold the fuck up, Sparky," Bakugou barked from the couch, finally rising to his feet like a looming storm. "You're yelling at the wrong fucking people."

"Uh-oh," Jirou said under her breath. "Protective boyfriend mode activated."

Bakugou shot her a middle finger as Kirishima groaned and facepalmed.

Shoji leaned over to Koda and whispered, "This is about to get real."

"Mm-hmm," Koda whimpered softly.

"Bakugou," Iida said, his voice tense. "Please—don't make this worse."

"I ain't making it worse. I'm just saying," Bakugou growled, stepping in so close to Denki their shoulders nearly touched. "If you got a problem with your best friend, go fucking talk to him—don't throw a tantrum like a brat who didn't get candy."

Denki's face burned red. His jaw clenched, shoulders shaking with tension, fists curled so tight his knuckles turned white. His mouth opened, ready to snap back—

"Um... what's going on?"

The voice sliced clean through the building storm.

Every head in the room whipped toward the doorway.

There stood Sero and Todoroki.

Not just standing near each other.

They were holding hands.

Not fumbling or nervous, but calm. Certain. Like it had been this way for a while. Like it was right.

A stunned silence swept through the room, followed by—

"Holy shit," Jirou blurted, eyes going wide.

Bakugou threw his head back and barked out a sharp laugh. "I fucking knew it!"

Kirishima elbowed him, whispering, "Dude, time and place!" But Bakugou only grinned harder, puffed up like he'd just won a bet with God.

Mina turned on Denki with an exasperated huff. "There. Happy now? You can yell at him instead of dragging me into your little emotional breakdown."

With a dramatic flip of her pink curls, she stormed toward the elevators, leaving behind a stunned, silent group of classmates.

Denki's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, words catching in his throat.

Kirishima scrambled for normalcy. "S-So, uh... Sero, how was your—uh—outing?"

Sero blinked, glancing at Todoroki, who tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable. Then he shrugged, utterly casual.

"Pretty good," Sero said. "We had lunch, went to the cat café. Got ice cream after. It was chill."

Jirou turned slowly to Momo, both of them frozen like someone had hit pause. Their wide eyes said everything: what just happened?

Bakugou's cocky smirk faded when he caught sight of Midoriya.

The green-haired boy wasn't surprised. Wasn't shocked.

There was something quiet and heavy in his eyes—a softness edged with melancholy. A knowing sort of ache.

Bakugou's expression faltered. His brows furrowed slightly before he clicked his tongue and turned away.

"Shitty Hair, I'm going to bed," he grumbled.

Kirishima startled. "O-Okay—yeah, I'll catch up!"

"Oh. My. Fucking. God!" Hagakure screeched, completely unable to hold it in anymore.

"Language!" Iida snapped instinctively, raising his hand like a parent scolding a class.

Then chaos broke loose.

Everyone began talking at once—voices overlapping, questions flying, some excited, some stunned, some whispering conspiratorially like they'd just witnessed a royal scandal.

Sero and Todoroki stood in the middle of it all like deer in headlights.

Sero could feel the tug of the room, the way people were closing in—asking, assuming, prying. His fingers twitched.

He was about to speak when a sharp voice rang out again.

"Shitty Hair?!"

Bakugou was halfway to the elevator, glaring over his shoulder. Kirishima blinked, realizing he'd been rooted in place.

"Ah—right! Uh, congrats, you two," he added, patting Sero on the shoulder before jogging after his boyfriend.

Sero watched him go with a quiet sigh—something complicated behind his smile.

But then he felt a squeeze.

Sero glanced down, and his heart clenched.

Todoroki was still holding his hand—tightly now, his thumb rubbing small, almost hesitant circles against Sero's knuckle.

His expression hadn't changed much, still that calm mask he wore so well, but there was a flicker of tension in his eyes. His shoulders were drawn tight. His gaze flitted between Aoyama and Hagakure, who were bombarding him with overlapping, breathless questions like overcaffeinated journalists at a red carpet debut.

Sero knew that look.

He recognized the stiff set of Todoroki's jaw. The way his fingers squeezed just a little too hard, like he was trying to keep himself tethered.

He was overwhelmed.

And Sero's instincts kicked in instantly.

"Alright, alright, hold it!" Sero raised his voice—not harsh, but strong, clear, protective. The kind of tone that cut through chaos and demanded calm.

He stepped forward, slipping slightly in front of Todoroki without thinking, pulling him gently behind with their joined hands. His fingers laced tighter through Todoroki's like a lifeline.

"Back off, people," he said firmly. "You had your gasp moment. Now give us a minute."

The room fell into a stunned hush.

Sero's dark eyes swept the common space like a teacher who'd just walked in on a very stupid prank. He spotted Midoriya staring—but not at them. His green eyes were distant, haunted by something unreadable. When he noticed Sero looking, he glanced away quickly, guilt—or maybe regret—flashing across his face.

"Look," Sero said, turning to the group, voice steady but full of quiet emotion. "Me and mi vida—Todoroki—are dating."

A beat passed. A ripple moved through the room—shocked gasps, widened eyes, the soft creak of someone shifting on the couch.

Someone started to speak—probably Hagakure—but Sero lifted a hand, not unkindly, and the words died mid-air.

"But," he said gently, "we'd really appreciate it if you didn't make a big deal about it. Don't poke your noses in. Don't turn it into some running commentary or a group discussion. We're... still figuring things out. Still learning how to be this together."

His voice dipped to something tender, a note that made even the air feel softer. "We're just trying to give ourselves the space to feel it honestly. Privately. Please don't pressure me—or especially Todoroki—about it."

Silence fell again. But this time, it wasn't stunned—it was thoughtful.

Something in the room shifted.

The tension cracked and softened like ice melting in spring. One by one, classmates gave small nods. A few looked away, embarrassed by their earlier excitement. There was no teasing. No jokes. Just... quiet respect.

Behind him, Sero felt the telltale twitch again.

Todoroki's fingers.

Sero glanced back—and forgot to breathe.

Todoroki was looking at him like he was something precious. Not a novelty. Not a spectacle.

But something safe. Chosen. Cherished.

His lips didn't move, but the soft shimmer in his eyes said everything:

Hanta.

That one word—unspoken but glowing in the space between them—settled warm and golden in Sero's chest.

He didn't realize he was blushing until the warmth reached the tips of his ears. He cleared his throat, trying to bring his voice back down to earth.

"Anyway. We're calling it a night. We'll see you all tomorrow."

He squeezed Todoroki's hand once, gently, and started toward the elevators, keeping the other boy close.

Behind them, a few murmurs rose again, but they were softer now. Curiosity dulled by understanding. Wonder, not intrusion.

Still, two glances lingered longer than the rest—Denki's, wide and unreadable, and Midoriya's, darkened with something quiet and complicated.

The moment they reached the quieter hallway—tucked just beyond the glow and chaos of the common room—Sero finally let the breath he'd been holding escape.

He leaned back against the wall like it might hold him together, fingers braced against the cool paint, legs slightly unsteady beneath him.

Then he laughed—low, breathless, disbelieving.

"Holy shit," he murmured. "That was... intense."

His heart was still hammering from everything—so many eyes, so many expectations, all of it piling on until he couldn't even hear his own thoughts. His body still buzzed faintly with leftover adrenaline, the kind that left a shimmer under his skin even as it faded.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to press some of the tension out of his temples, when—

"Hanta?"

Just one word.

Soft. Quiet. Threaded with a kind of reverence that made his whole spine go still.

Sero turned.

And there he was.

Todoroki stood just a few feet away, tucked in the dim light with his hands awkwardly clasped in front of him. His usual guarded calm had melted away—no more neutral mask, no carefully measured posture. He looked different like this.

Softer. His eyes, always sharp and unreadable in battle, now glowed with something tender. Honest.

And very, very vulnerable.

Sero didn't speak. He couldn't. Not with his throat tightening like this.

"Thank you," Todoroki said, voice almost too quiet to carry.

Sero blinked. "O-Oh," he managed, awkward and breathless. "It's—it's nothing—"

"No." Todoroki stepped closer, the word gentle but certain. "It's not nothing."

He stopped just in front of him—close enough that Sero could see the faint flush on his cheeks, could smell the faint hint of sandalwood and dryer-sheet cotton that clung to his shirt like home.

"You stood up for me," Todoroki said, looking down at their shoes for a beat before meeting his gaze again. "You didn't have to. I didn't ask. But you did. And that... means more than I can explain."

Sero's breath caught somewhere between his ribs.

Todoroki fidgeted slightly, hands flexing at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them.

"I'm not good at this," he admitted, barely above a whisper. "I don't always know how to say what I feel. But I'm learning. Because of you."

That's when Sero moved. Slowly, gently, like approaching something fragile.

He reached forward and took Todoroki's hands in his.

Warm. Human. Trembling just slightly.

Real.

"Mi vida," he whispered, voice thick with emotion, "I meant what I said back there. Every word."

Todoroki looked up, eyes wide and shining.

"I want to be there," Sero said, thumb brushing soft circles over his knuckles. "Not just during the good stuff. Not just when it's easy. I want to be the one who's still standing beside you when things get hard. The one who listens. The one who reminds you it's okay to not have all the answers right away."

His voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on, his smile soft.

"You don't have to be perfect with me, Todoroki. You just have to be you."

Todoroki's breath hitched, and for a long moment, he didn't say anything at all.

Then—very carefully—he leaned in.

There was no hesitation. No rush.

Just a gentle, slow kiss.

A quiet thing. A thank-you. A promise sealed in warmth and stillness.

Sero's eyes fluttered shut as he kissed him back, his hands still wrapped protectively around Todoroki's. The hallway fell away. The buzz of noise behind them became background static. All that mattered was the soft press of lips and the weightless, dizzy feeling blooming behind his ribs.

When they finally parted, Todoroki rested his forehead lightly against Sero's, exhaling shakily like the air had been trapped in his lungs too long.

"Thank you," he said again. Even softer this time. Like it wasn't just about tonight anymore.

Sero swallowed hard.

Something in him cracked wide open then—not in a way that hurt, but in the way hearts sometimes do when they're finally seen. Finally chosen.

This boy—this quiet, brilliant, half-frozen flame of a boy—was letting him in.

And for once—just once—Hanta Sero didn't feel like he had to joke, or entertain, or wrap himself in charm and noise like armor.

He didn't feel the need to fill the silence with punchlines.

Didn't feel like he had to shape-shift into someone more dazzling or more composed, more anyone.

Because right here, in the gentle quiet between heartbeats and hand-holding, he was simply himself.

And that was enough.

Todoroki thought he was enough.

And maybe—maybe—that was the bravest thing of all.

To be seen. To be chosen. To be loved in the stillness.

Before either of them could say anything else, Todoroki's gaze shifted suddenly. His body stiffened just slightly as his eyes moved past Sero's shoulder.

Then, he cleared his throat. "Hanta."

Sero turned.

And saw Denki.

He was walking toward the elevators, shoulders tense and hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. His head was down, eyes shadowed, face unreadable in a way that wasn't normal for him. Not their Denki.

He didn't even glance their way.

"Hey—Denks!" Sero called, lifting his hand halfway, a smile forming reflexively.

But Denki didn't stop. Didn't slow.

He stepped into the elevator without a word, the doors sliding shut behind him like punctuation at the end of a sentence no one wanted to say.

Silence settled.

Sero dropped his hand. "What was...?"

Todoroki was still watching the closed doors, his brow furrowed faintly. "He looked... upset earlier. When we walked in."

Sero exhaled through his nose and dragged a hand down his face. "Yeah. I noticed something was off. But Denki... he'll talk when he's ready."

He turned back, grounding himself in Todoroki's eyes.

And reached for his hand again—this time with purpose, not comfort. This time, as a promise. "Mi vida... you were really brave back there."

Todoroki tilted his head. "Brave?"

"You didn't have to say anything in front of everyone. You didn't owe anyone that. But you did it anyway."

Todoroki looked down at their joined hands, his thumb brushing lightly across Sero's knuckles. He was quiet for a second, as if searching for the right words.

"I wanted to," he murmured at last. "After today—after everything—I realized something."

Sero leaned in just a bit. "What's that?"

"I trust you," Todoroki said simply. Then he lifted his gaze, and there was no hesitation in his voice. "And I want to be yours. I am yours. Why should I pretend otherwise?"

It hit Sero like a wave—gentle, but overwhelming. Not like lightning, but like sunlight breaking through clouds after days of gray.

He'd been told a lot of things in his life.
But no one had ever said that.
Not like this. Not with quiet conviction and zero performance.

Not with certainty like it was already a fact.

Sero didn't cry.

But God, he could've.

Instead, a bright, breathless laugh burst out of him, so full of joy it almost startled him. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Todoroki's waist and spun him off the ground, the moment too much and not enough all at once.

"Mi vida!"

Todoroki startled mid-laugh. "Hanta—! What are you doing? Put me down!"

Sero obeyed, still grinning like the hopeless romantic idiot he was. "Sorry, sorry! I'm just really, really happy you want to be my boyfriend."

Todoroki blinked at him, head slightly tilted, that classic expression of thoughtful confusion on his face. "I thought I already was?"

Sero froze. Then blinked. Then laughed again—softer this time—as he pulled Todoroki back against him by the waist, forehead gently resting against his.

"Never mind," he whispered.

Todoroki narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious but amused, like he was still trying to decipher the joke. But he didn't pull away.

The elevator dinged.

They waited for the doors, hands still loosely entwined.

And as the elevator opened, Todoroki gave his hand a small, familiar squeeze.

It was subtle, almost nothing. But to Sero—it meant everything.
That little squeeze had become a thing between them. A wordless ritual. A quiet question.

Are you still there?

And Sero, without fail, always squeezed back.

I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.

Because even with crooked smiles, loud laughter, awkward Spanish, and tape-covered elbows—

Hanta Sero was real.

And somehow, by some impossible little miracle...

Todoroki was his.

And he wasn't pretending.

And he didn't have to.

Not anymore.

Chapter 16: Manly

Notes:

Mwah!

Third Person POV:

"Man, why is he still ignoring me?!"

Sero whined dramatically as he slumped forward and let his head thud against the lunch table with a groan. Mina and Kirishima exchanged a worried glance while Todoroki, seated beside Sero, gave him a soft pat on the back—more awkward than comforting, but it was the thought that counted.

"Well, he's ignoring us too, so we're all in the same boat," Kirishima muttered, biting into his apple with a crunch that felt way too loud in the weird tension that hung over them like a cloud.

Sero let his cheek rest on the cool surface of the table, sighing so deeply it puffed his hair away from his forehead.

It had been a week.

A whole seven days since everyone in Class 1-A found out that Sero and Todoroki were dating. What should have been a week of teasing, awkward but supportive laughter, and maybe some gossip had turned into something way more complicated.

And weird. Definitely weird.

Sero had only found out secondhand—through Mina—that Denki had an outburst on last Saturday, storming off after apparently seeing something he didn't like. And when Sero tried to reach out, thinking maybe he could fix things, he was met with radio silence.

Calls? Ignored.

Texts? Left on read.

Snaps? Left unopened.

It was like Denki had vanished from his life, ghosted him without warning or reason—like their friendship had been wiped clean off the board overnight.

And it wasn't just him. Apparently, Denki was giving Mina and Kirishima the silent treatment too. Mina had confessed to Sero what happened the night of the outburst, about how she maybe didn't react in the best way when she stormed off. She was upset that Denki kept yelling so she snapped. She didn't mean to hurt him. But now every time she tried to approach him, Denki would just... walk past her.

No eye contact. No words.

Nothing.

Kirishima hadn't fared any better. He said he tried to catch Denki before class the other day, just to say something—anything—but the blonde had pulled his hoodie over his head and slipped into the crowd like a ghost, pretending he didn't even hear him.

And then there was the lunchtime exile.

Denki hadn't sat with them all week. Not once.

Instead, he'd been hanging out at Class 1-B's table, laughing and joking around like he didn't even know Class 1-A, let alone consider them his closest friends. The switch was jarring, and it hurt more than Sero liked to admit.

It was like watching a version of Denki that didn't need them.

Didn't miss them.

Didn't care.

Sero knew they'd probably messed up—somewhere—but it stung that Denki wouldn't even let them try to fix it.

And yet, in the middle of all the awkwardness and silence, something unexpected had happened too.

No one had said a word about him and Todoroki being together.

No teasing. No judgment. Not even a sly comment from Mineta. Not a single classmate had brought it up, which Sero was grateful for, in a way. It made things easier for Todoroki, who wasn't exactly the most socially outgoing person.

Sero could tell his boyfriend—ugh, still so weird but so good to say—was way more comfortable than expected. He held Sero's hand in the hallways. Let him steal food off his plate at breakfast. Walked him back to the dorms after class like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yeah, Sero was happy. He was.

But that didn't mean his mind didn't wander sometimes.

To the lingering stares.
To the quiet.
To Denki.

And to Midoriya.

God, he hated how often his brain circled back to him—like some ghost Sero couldn't shake. It wasn't even Todoroki's fault. Not really. It wasn't like he brought him up or still talked to him constantly. But the thing was... he didn't have to.

Because the memory of Midoriya was still there. Lingering in the corners. Quiet and ever-present like the scent of smoke in clothes long after the fire had gone out.

It wasn't jealousy exactly.
(Okay. Maybe a little. Fine. A lot.)
But it was more than that, too. It was the kind of deep, gnawing insecurity that sat in your chest and whispered:

"He loved someone before you. Someone important. Someone who might've understood him better."

Sero tried not to compare. He really did.

But Midoriya was just so... Midoriya. Bright, brilliant, endlessly kind Midoriya who always seemed to be three steps ahead in understanding people. Including Todoroki. Especially Todoroki.

There were moments where Todoroki would go quiet, a certain far-off look in his eyes, and Sero would wonder—was he thinking about him? Remembering some inside joke? A training session? A shared trauma?

They never talked about it. Not really.

Sero didn't want to seem clingy or paranoid. He didn't want to make Todoroki feel like he didn't trust him. Because he did.

But he was only human. And sometimes... being the new guy after someone like Midoriya made him feel like a substitute teacher standing in front of a class that already missed the real deal.

Still, things had been okay. Stable. Even with Denki acting like he didn't exist, even with all the silence. Sero was managing.

Until Thursday.

Hero Training Day.

Aizawa announced they'd be doing a combat training exercise: two-on-two matches, quirks allowed, but hand-to-hand preferred.

Sero hadn't thought much of it until he saw the matchups listed on the board.

His partner:  Shoji . Solid. Reliable. No complaints there.

Their opponents:  Tsuyu Asui  ... and  Izuku Midoriya .

Sero had stared at the board like it had personally insulted him.

"What the hell," he muttered, already dreading the inevitable.

"Looks like Mr. Aizawa wants drama," Mina whispered beside him, clearly trying not to laugh.

Sero begged Shoji to take on Tsu during the match. Begged. Even offered to buy him lunch for a week.

But Shoji shook his head. "Our chances are better if you focus on Midoriya. My reach and visibility are limited in a close-quarters fight with someone like her."

And that was that.

Which was bullshit, because when Sero locked eyes with Midoriya across the field, the green-haired boy looked... well.

He looked like he wanted to kill him.

Not in a petty, annoyed way.
Not even in a "you kissed my ex in front of the class" kind of way.
But in a quiet, focused, calculated way.

Like Midoriya had something to prove.

Sero felt the eyes of the class on them before the fight even started. Hell, even Bakugou stopped grumbling for five seconds just to watch it unfold.

And of course, Todoroki stood off to the side, arms crossed, eyes locked on him like a hawk.

The fight started rough.

Midoriya came in fast and didn't let up. Every punch had weight behind it, controlled and precise, but undeniably sharp.

Sero gave it right back. Maybe a little too much. His fists moved faster than his thoughts, because he was watching—always watching—Todoroki from the corner of his eye.

Was he worried?

Was he impressed?

Did he see Midoriya land that uppercut?

Sero landed a kick straight to Midoriya's ribs and took a punch to the jaw in return. Neither of them used their quirks, even though they could have.

It wasn't just training anymore. It was personal.

It wasn't about winning.

It was about proving something.

And before they could truly go off the rails, Tsuyu caught Shoji off guard with a clever feint and knocked him out of bounds.

Match over.

Team Midoriya-Asui wins.

But even after the buzzer, Midoriya stood there, breathing hard, eyes locked on Sero with something unreadable in his expression.

Not anger.

Not hatred.

Just... something.

And Sero, because he was petty (and honestly hurting), decided to push it.

So when Todoroki jogged over to him afterward, clearly concerned and checking him over for injuries, Sero took his face in both hands and planted a big, bold, ridiculous kiss right on his lips.

Loud.

Messy.

Extra as hell.

And when he pulled away, he grinned and said, "I'm fine, mi vida. No bruises that'll last."

Todoroki just stood there blinking, cheeks tinged red like his left side, completely stunned into silence.

It was worth it for that look alone.

But the real satisfaction?

That came from seeing Midoriya's jaw clench—just slightly—as he turned and walked away.

Of course, the class exploded.

Mineta wouldn't shut up for ten minutes. He kept saying stuff like, "Damn! Sero really took Todoroki from Midoriya!" and "Bro, you OWNED him!"

Even Aoyama dramatically gasped and whispered, "Scandalous~" like they were in some kind of soap opera.

Aizawa shut it down with a glare and a well-placed threat about detention, but the damage had been done. The looks. The whispers. The tension in the air so thick Sero could feel it pressing into his skin.

Midoriya didn't say a word.

Just walked off like the kiss hadn't bothered him at all.

But Sero saw the way his shoulders tensed. The way his hands curled into fists at his sides.

And honestly? He wasn't proud of what he'd done.

But God... it felt good.

To feel like he had something Midoriya didn't.

To be the one Todoroki walked toward, worried over, kissed without hesitation.

For once, Sero felt like he won.

Since then, things had been... tense.

Midoriya wouldn't talk to him. Wouldn't look at him. He didn't say anything—but he didn't have to.

The chill was there. Lingering between them like frost on glass.

Everyone noticed.

Except Todoroki.

Bless his brilliant, oblivious heart.

He still smiled that soft little smile when Sero passed him a note in class. Still asked if he was cold and offered his scarf. Still wrapped his fingers around Sero's wrist like it meant something.

He thought things were fine.

He thought the storm had passed.

But Sero knew better.

The storm was still there.

It had just moved underground.

And he didn't know when it was going to crack the surface again.

Lunch used to be the best part of the day.

Now it felt like walking into a battlefield with no armor.

Denki was still over at Class 1-B's table, laughing at something Monoma said like they were old friends.

Like he hadn't been avoiding his actual friends for a week straight. Like the world hadn't shifted on its axis and left the rest of them to deal with the aftermath.

Sero scowled as he stabbed at his food with unnecessary force.

"This isn't how things are supposed to go," he muttered, voice sharp with frustration.

Todoroki, sitting next to him, tilted his head in concern. Kirishima leaned forward from across the table, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Sero sighed, letting his fork clatter against the tray.

"I mean Denki not ignoring us, Midoriya not trying to beat my ass every other day, and me—me not failing math!"

Kirishima let out a soft "Oh..." while Mina, ever the blunt one, huffed and crossed her arms.

"Denki is so—UGH. I seriously don't get him. He's mad at us for not telling him stuff, but then when we try to talk to him? He vanishes! Like, make it make sense!"

Kirishima frowned, pushing the rice on his plate around like it had wronged him personally. "We didn't even do anything wrong."

From the corner of the table, Bakugou grunted, chewing slowly on his katsudon and trying his hardest to pretend he wasn't listening. But that was a lie. He was always listening, especially when it involved his squad. Especially when it involved Kirishima.

The moment he heard the dip in his boyfriend's voice, something in him snapped.

Without warning, Bakugou grabbed Kirishima's chin and pulled him closer. Before the redhead could even question it, Bakugou pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek—quick and shy, like he was afraid the moment would vanish if he held it too long.

Kirishima blinked, stunned. "Katsuki..."

Bakugou looked away immediately, cheeks flaring red. "Fuck him for that," he muttered, voice low and rough. "You didn't do anything wrong, Shitty Hair."

Mina's jaw dropped. Sero paused mid-sip.

"Oh my god," Mina whispered, like she was witnessing a miracle.

Sero grinned, leaning across the table. "Bakubrooo~ look at you being all soft in public!"

Bakugou picked up his fork, eyes narrowing. "Say one more word, Tape-Face."

But Kirishima stopped him with a gentle hand, leaning forward to press a kiss to Bakugou's knuckles. "He's actually super affectionate. Like, one time after training when I was sore, he—"

"SHUT UP SHITTY HAIR!"

Sero and Mina burst out laughing while Kirishima fake-pouted. "He just doesn't like people knowing he's a sweetheart."

"I'LL KILL YOU ALL," Bakugou seethed, but there was no real heat behind it.

Sero's laughter faded slightly as he glanced down at his tray, his mood shifting again. Todoroki, still holding his hand under the table, gave it a soft squeeze.

"I don't get it," Todoroki said suddenly, looking across the table at Bakugou. "Why don't you want people to know how much you care about Kirishima?"

"IT'S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, YOU HALF-AND-HALF BASTARD."

Sero groaned, covering his face with his free hand. "Goddammit, here we go..."

Unfazed, Todoroki just blinked slowly. "If I cared about someone that much, I'd want people to know. I'd want everyone to know what Hanta did for me. Like when we had that picnic—"

"SHUT UP! I'M SO SICK OF HEARING ABOUT THAT DAMN DATE. YOU WOULDN'T SHUT UP FOR A WEEK."

Todoroki turned to Kirishima with his usual deadpan curiosity. "How do you deal with him all the time?"

Mina nearly spat out her drink. Sero smacked his palm to his forehead. "Subtle, Roki. Real subtle."

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!"

Bakugou was on his feet in an instant, practically climbing over the table to reach Todoroki. Kirishima yelped, arms wrapping around Bakugou's waist to keep him from committing murder mid-lunch.

"Babe! Calm down?! You're gonna kill him in front of the rice!"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU ANYWHERE!"

Todoroki sighed like someone who'd accepted chaos as a daily routine. Then his gaze flicked downward—landing on Sero, who hadn't spoken in a while. Who was still staring at his tray like it held the answers to the universe.

"Hanta?" he asked softly.

Sero blinked, looking up slowly to meet Todoroki's eyes.

"Yeah, mi vida?"

"Why aren't you eating?"

"Oh, uh... not really hungry."

Todoroki frowned. His hand tightened slightly around Sero's. He was about to say something else when a familiar chopping motion broke through the chaos.

"What is going on over here?" Iida approached, arms swinging like windmills. "People are trying to eat! Bakugou, your behavior is wholly inappropriate during mealtime!"

"I'LL SHOW YOU INAPPROPRIATE—"

Kirishima tightened his grip on Bakugou's waist.

"—IN A SECOND IF YOU DON'T GET OUT OF MY FACE."

Mina nearly fell over laughing. Sero snorted. But even as the group descended into another wave of noise and Iida's rant about etiquette echoed down the cafeteria, Sero's attention was caught by a single figure behind the crowd.

Midoriya.

Talking to Iida, not looking their way. Not even acknowledging the table.

And Sero... hated how much he noticed that.

He was happy with Todoroki. He was. But some insecure, rotten part of him kept whispering: Midoriya was here first. What if Todoroki still wants him?

It wasn't fair. To Todoroki. To himself. But the doubts were loud.

Midoriya was smarter. Stronger. Better.

Todoroki never talked about him anymore—but that didn't stop Sero from remembering the way Todoroki used to look at Midoriya.

And no matter how many kisses they shared or late-night texts they sent, some small part of Sero was terrified that in the end...

Todoroki would realize he made a mistake.

That Sero was just a rebound.

That he'd never measure up.

Sero stared down at his tray again, appetite gone.

But then—his hand was squeezed again.

"Hanta," Todoroki said softly, his voice barely audible over the cafeteria noise. "Come eat with me in the gardens."

Sero blinked, startled, a spoon halfway to his mouth. "W-What? Uh—why, mi vida?"

Todoroki didn't flinch. "I want to be alone with you. It's too noisy here."

Sero's face lit up, warmth blooming across his cheeks like sunshine after a storm. His chest fluttered at the sincerity in Todoroki's voice. "O-Oh! Yeah—sure, yeah, if you say so!"

He scrambled to his feet with a little too much enthusiasm, nearly knocking over his water. He caught both their trays in a quick save, a grin spreading across his face with a spark of energy he hadn't felt all day.

"Lead the way, mi corazón."

Todoroki offered him a small smile—subtle, but full of meaning. A private expression that belonged only to Sero. Then he turned and began to weave through the crowd, effortlessly parting the chaos like the calm eye of a storm. Sero followed close, his heart thudding a little faster with each step.

On their way out, Sero caught Mina's eye from across the room. She was halfway through biting into a rice ball and paused when she spotted him. Her eyes lit up with mischief as he gave her a wink.

She winked back with a wide grin that all but screamed: Spill everything later or I will hunt you down.

Sero chuckled under his breath before turning away—but caught something else. He saw Midoriya watching them, or rather... watching Todoroki.

There was a look in Midoriya's eyes—complicated, unreadable. It made Sero's stomach twist for a second. He looked at Todoroki walking ahead of him, oblivious and calm, and felt something possessive rise up in him.

Without thinking, Sero stepped forward, closed the space between them, and slipped his arm around Todoroki's shoulder. Then, with a boldness that surprised even himself, he leaned down and kissed Todoroki on the cheek.

Todoroki blinked, startled. His steps faltered.

"What was that for?" he asked softly, a bit dazed.

Sero smirked. "What? I can't give mi deslumbrante novio a kiss?"

(My stunning boyfriend.)

It took a second for Todoroki to translate it in his head—and when he did, his cheeks turned a soft, lovely shade of pink. He ducked his head, trying to hide his face behind Sero's shoulder, but the reaction only made Sero grin wider.

"You're too cute, you know that?" Sero teased, chuckling as he dropped a gentle peck on Todoroki's head. "Come on, mi vida, we've got fifteen minutes before class."

Todoroki peeked up at him, his blush still lingering. "Hanta, can we... watch One Punch Man on your phone again?"

Sero groaned playfully, rolling his eyes. "Mi vida, every time you watch that show, you simp over Genos like it's your full-time job."

Todoroki tilted his head, confused. "Simp?"

The tape hero laughed and waved it off. "Nevermind. Come on, nerd."

The two of them exited the cafeteria together, their laughter trailing behind them like sunlight on pavement.

They didn't notice the two pairs of eyes that followed their every move.

One pair was full of quiet sadness, a deep ache resting behind the green of their gaze. Regret lingered on their features like a shadow they couldn't shake.

The other pair narrowed with restrained fury. Jaw clenched. Hands balled into fists beneath the table.

Whatever peace had bloomed in that garden walk—it wasn't going to last forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And that's when I was like, 'fuck that, I'm not doing that dude.'"

Sero finished his story with a dramatic flair, tossing a cheesy puff into his mouth and waving his hand like he was retelling some life-altering tale.

Kirishima and Mina gave him a look—half amused, half skeptical.

Mina raised a brow. "Then what happened?"

Sero groaned, flopping back dramatically onto Mina's fuzzy pink carpet. "She beat the shit out of me and told me she'd tell mamá I snuck out."

There was a beat of silence before Kirishima and Mina burst out laughing.

"Dude, what?!" Kirishima cackled. "She snitched on you?!"

"Like immediately!" Sero grumbled. "Didn't even hesitate. Switched up so fast, like a cop just offered her a plea deal."

Mina was wheezing, clutching her side. "Wait, wait—who are we talking about?"

Sero muttered into the carpet, "My older sister. Aiko."

Todoroki, who had been quietly working on his math worksheet from where he sat cross-legged near the window, tilted his head in curiosity. "Oh." Then he went right back to writing, as if that little anecdote answered all questions about Sero's upbringing.

The group was gathered in Mina's room, her soft string lights glowing gently against the walls. A playlist of chill lo-fi music hummed in the background as they sat in a pile of blankets, half-eaten snacks, open notebooks, and a couple manga volumes Sero brought over.

It was supposed to be a chill hangout. After the week they had—full of tension, miscommunication, and that lingering sense of something broken—Mina had offered a low-pressure night in. Just the squad. Homework, snacks, and comfort. They usually did this often, but this time?

It felt different.

There was a void.

Denki's absence sat heavy between them, like a seat left open at the table no one wanted to look at. He was always the one to fill silences with wild theories, dumb questions, chaotic energy that never failed to make everyone laugh. His energy lifted rooms.

Now that he was actively ignoring them... things just felt off.

Still, it wasn't completely awkward. Just... quieter. A little sadder.

They were all trying, though. Especially Sero—who, for once, was actually trying to do homework. Though his attention span was absolutely being held hostage by the peppermint-haired boy beside him.

Todoroki had joined them tonight at Mina's insistence, and while he had no idea about the full scope of the friend group drama, he was here for one reason: to hang out with his boyfriend. And maybe—maybe—to make sure said boyfriend didn't ignore his homework in favor of reading manga for two straight hours.

Sero dramatically rolled over onto his back again, tossing a pencil in the air.

"Man, can we talk about how these villains have lost their minds lately?"

"For real," Kirishima agreed. "It's like, can they chill out for one month? Winter break is right there! Just go sip cocoa or something!"

"They need hobbies," Sero deadpanned.

"Like knitting!" Mina added brightly. "Or snowboarding!"

"Or therapy," Todoroki mumbled without looking up.

There was a pause before all three burst into laughter.

Mina sat up straighter with a twinkle in her eye. "Okay, okay, but speaking of winter break... what are everyone's plans?"

Kirishima beamed, practically glowing with excitement. "Actually... it's kind of a big deal for me this year. Katsuki invited me to have Christmas dinner with his parents."

There was a moment of stunned silence.

Then—

"NO WAY!" Mina squealed, practically bouncing on her knees like a pogo stick. "That's huge, Kiri!"

"Right?!" Kirishima blushed so hard his entire face looked like a tomato with hair. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "He said his mom really wants to meet me... but I'm freaking out a little. What if I mess it up? What if she hates me?"

"She's gonna love you," Mina said immediately, reaching over to grab his arm with conviction. "You're charming, respectful, polite, and let's be honest—your muscles are terrifyingly polite."

"Yeah, dude, you'll be fine, mi amigo," Sero added, giving him a thumbs-up and a dramatic wink.

"My friend," Todoroki chimed in from his corner, eyes still focused on his worksheet.

The other three turned to stare at him.

"Hanta called you his friend," Todoroki elaborated in a deadpan tone, like he was simply reading off a report. "In Spanish."

There was a long beat of silence.

Kirishima blinked. "Oh. Uh... thanks?"

Sero couldn't help himself—he burst out laughing. "Don't mind him. Every time I speak Spanish, he has to translate it. Like the cute little human Google Translate boyfriend he is."

Todoroki's pen halted mid-sentence. His shoulders stiffened slightly. Then, as Sero leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, the red-and-white-haired boy froze completely.

A beat passed.

Then he slowly lowered his eyes to his page, subtly using it as a shield to hide the blush rapidly coloring his face. Unfortunately, his ears were traitors and turned a soft, unmistakable pink.

Mina giggled into her sleeve. "You two are so grossly cute, it physically pains me."

"I know," Sero smirked, now leaning against Todoroki and casually slinging an arm around his shoulder. "I'm dating a dual-flavored popsicle. What can I say?"

Todoroki didn't respond—but he did lean into the contact just enough to give himself away.

Kirishima, meanwhile, was spiraling again.

"But guys... what if she doesn't like me?" he whined, flopping dramatically onto Mina's bed like a dying Victorian widow. "Or worse—what if both of his parents think I'm lame? What if they hate my teeth? I smile too much, don't I? I smile too much. It's creepy, isn't it? Oh my God, what if they think my hair's unmanly?!"

He clutched one of Mina's stuffed animals to his chest like it was his only source of comfort in this cruel, judgmental world.

Mina sighed, already rubbing her temples. "Kiri. Babe. I think you're being a little dramatic."

"I think I'm being realistic," he shot back, voice muffled by the plushie. "We don't know what Katsuki's mom is like! What if she's like... a scarier version of him?"

Sero laughed, shaking his head. "Mi hermano, relájate. You're literally the nicest dude I've ever met. You saved a kitten and that old lady in one week. You're like a walking ray of sunshine—of course they'll like you."

"My brother relax," Todoroki translated again, glancing up just long enough to be helpful.

Kirishima blinked. "...Thanks, man?"

Mina beamed. "Exactly! Kiri, you've got nothing to worry about. You're sweet and genuine and hella buff—what's not to like? I mean, you got us to love you, and we're like the weirdest bunch of gremlins ever."

"And Bakubro too," Sero added with a sly grin.

"Yeah!" Mina nodded eagerly. "Katsuki's basically allergic to people and he lets you touch him regularly. You win."

Kirishima sniffed dramatically, still half-buried in the plushie. "You think so?"

"Absolutely," Mina said, climbing onto the bed beside him and ruffling his hair like a big sister. "You've got that pure-hearted manly energy. Right, Todoroki?"

Sero turned to his boyfriend, who was diligently solving a math equation.

"Huh?" Todoroki looked up as he realized everyone was suddenly watching him. He blinked once, then shifted his gaze to Kirishima.

"I'm sorry," he said. "What's happening?"

"Do you think everyone likes Kirishima?" Sero prompted.

Todoroki's expression didn't change as he said, perfectly matter-of-fact, "I would believe so."

Mina smiled. "See! Even Roki—"

"Although," Todoroki continued, "some people might find you loud because of your enthusiasm. And at times, you can seem a bit immature—"

Sero's hand clamped over his mouth so fast you'd think Todoroki had insulted a world leader. The others blinked at the sudden silence as Sero gave an awkward, forced smile.

"H-He's just kidding."

Kirishima let out a strangled whimper and fell back onto the bed like a dying star. "I knew it!"

Mina gave the couple a hard glare, then turned her full attention to her spiraling red-haired friend, trying to calm him with soft pats and whispered reassurances.

Sero sighed, pulling his hand away and turning toward Todoroki, who looked genuinely confused.

"Roki," he said gently, voice a little softer.

"Did I say something wrong?" Todoroki asked, genuinely puzzled.

Sero's expression softened into something deeply affectionate, patient. "Not wrong, exactly," he said. "Just... maybe not the kind of feedback someone needs when they're already nervous about meeting their boyfriend's parents. Especially when those parents are... well, Bakugous'."

Todoroki's eyes widened slightly. He stared down at his notebook.

"Oh."

Before anyone else could say anything, Kirishima suddenly shot upright, determination blazing in his eyes like the sun rising from a pit of anxious despair.

"That's it!" he declared, pointing a finger toward the ceiling. "I'm going to be the manliest man of the men! I'll walk into that house with so much manly confidence that Katsuki's mom won't dare to disapprove! I'll chop wood! I'll wear flannel! I'll compliment her casserole with perfect posture!"

And with that, he bolted out of the room like a soldier on a mission.

Mina and Sero winced when the door slammed.

Mina exhaled loudly and flopped back on the bed. "Great. He's going to start his gym-fixation again. It took us two weeks to convince him he was already manly enough last time. Two."

Sero groaned, rubbing his temples. "Mina—"

"Now I have to go find him, put on Princess Diaries, and coax him down with protein shakes and affirmations."

She grabbed her purse, muttering under her breath about "boys and their fragile masculinity" as she marched out the door and closed it with a soft click behind her.

The room fell quiet.

Sero slowly lowered himself so he was laying flat on his back next to Todoroki, head resting against Mina's bedframe. He let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"Great."

Now Sero has to deal with a semi-depressed and gym fanatic Kirishima, a non-existent Denki who's blowing him off for something stupid, and everyone in the class giving him awkward looks because he's dating Izuku Midoriya's ex who is also aka the strong ice-fire prince of class 1-A.

' Just great.'

" Hanta?"

Sero turned over his head to see his boyfriend staring down at his homework. He looked down at his boyfriend's hands and he noticed he was griping the bottom of his sweater.

Sero figured out this was a habit of his boyfriend whenever he was upset or just overwhelmed by any sort.

Sero's guilt stirred. He knew Todoroki struggled with reading social cues sometimes. He knew his boyfriend was still figuring out the nuance of emotional expression, of comfort, of casual joking. He was learning. And Sero hadn't exactly made it easy.

Sero slid closer, propping himself on one elbow. His voice softened.

"Roki, what's the matter?"

Todoroki looked up, slowly, eyes tired in a way that didn't quite match the late afternoon light coming through Mina's windows. He hugged his knees to his chest with a sigh, his hair a mess of red and white against his oversized sleeves.

"No matter how hard I try," he said, barely above a whisper, "I can never get it right."

The words hung in the air, heavier than they should've been.

Sero felt his heart twist. He reached out instinctively and pulled Todoroki closer by the shoulder, guiding him into the crook of his arm. The movement was gentle but sure—steady, grounding.

"Listen, mi vida," Sero murmured, voice like honey against the stillness. "There's no need to beat yourself up. You didn't mean any harm. It was just a misread, that's all. Kiri's gonna be okay."

Todoroki frowned, his cheek resting against Sero's collarbone. "But I wanted to be helpful. I thought I was."

"You were trying," Sero said, pressing a soft kiss into Todoroki's hair. "And that counts. That always counts."

There was a pause.

"Are you sure?" Todoroki's voice was smaller now, uncertain in a way he rarely allowed anyone to see.

Sero smiled. That tender, cheeky, sunshine-boy grin Todoroki was learning to adore and also fear a little because it made his stomach swoop in the most ridiculous ways.

"I'm positive. And besides... Kiri's gonna charm the dickens out of Bakubro's parents. He'll probably have them calling him 'son' by dessert."

That earned a soft snort from Todoroki, the corners of his lips twitching like he wanted to smile but was still uncertain if he was allowed to.

Sero reached for the open bag of chips on Mina's nightstand, crunching a few as he continued. "No one survives Kiri's wholesome manly energy. Not even Bakugo. That man's basically been blushing in rage for a week straight."

Todoroki blinked, then slowly let his eyes drift up to Sero's face.

There it was again.

That grin. That ridiculous, radiant, golden grin.

And just like that—Todoroki felt it.

That weird, flustering warmth bubble up inside his chest. That too-familiar pull in his gut that made him want to hide his face in his hoodie and also maybe kiss Sero senseless.

He hated how easily Sero could make him feel this way. But he also didn't hate it at all.

Without thinking, Todoroki shifted forward and wrapped his arms around Sero's torso, snuggling against his chest like a weighted blanket. His breath came out slow and careful as he melted into the contact.

Sero blinked, chip halfway to his mouth.

He glanced down to find a mess of soft, red-and-white hair smushed against his hoodie, arms curled around his ribs like a koala. His heart stuttered. His expression softened.

"Oh," he whispered. "Hey."

One hand came up to gently stroke Todoroki's hair, slow and soothing. The other pulled out his phone, aimlessly scrolling, content just to hold the boy in his arms.

After a few quiet moments, Sero spoke again. "So, Roki—Christmas break's coming up, yeah? I was thinking... we should do something. Just the two of us."

Immediately, he felt Todoroki's arms tighten around his middle.

Ah.

'Right. Home.'

Sero froze, wincing slightly. 'Damn it. Nice going, Hanta.'

Before he could backpedal, Todoroki mumbled into his chest, voice muffled and raw:

"I don't like going home."

Sero didn't say anything at first. He just kept rubbing slow, rhythmic circles against Todoroki's scalp, anchoring him with touch. He knew the feeling too well now—that haunted weight Todoroki carried every time someone brought up "home" like it was something warm and whole.

Because for Todoroki, home wasn't safe. Not really.

And this Christmas—like so many before—it would be more cold hallways and forced dinners, more pretending to care about a man who'd once broken everything in him.

Sero's mind drifted to Kirishima's excitement about his dinner with Bakugou's family—how Bakugou had fussed over his shirt, barked about table manners, tried to act nonchalant even though he was totally panicking inside.

And Sero thought: Why can't Roki have that?

Why couldn't he be that warm place for Todoroki to come back to?

That's when it hit him.

Sero snapped his fingers softly. Todoroki lifted his head just a little, eyes sleepy but curious.

"What is it?" he asked, voice rough with emotion.

Sero smiled again—gentler this time, almost shy.

"I was just thinking... I know we haven't been dating that long—"

"Three weeks and one day," Todoroki supplied immediately, his tone deadpan.

Sero laughed, heart full. "Yeah. Exactly. But I was thinking... maybe, if you want, after our dinner date, we could do a little gift exchange?"

Todoroki blinked. "Gift exchange?"

"Yeah," Sero said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing big. Just something fun. Something ours. Since, y'know... we'll be going home after that."

At the mention of "home," Todoroki's eyes dimmed again. The light faded from his face like clouds swallowing the sun.

"Oh," he said quietly.

Sero cursed himself silently.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Todoroki's temple. "Hey. We'll still have time together. Before and after. And even if we're not physically together during break... we'll find a way. Okay?"

Todoroki hesitated.

But then he nodded, just once. His hands tightened around Sero's hoodie again.

"Okay."

And though the world outside Mina's room kept moving—though there were assignments due and people yelling in the hallway and holidays looming like storms—inside that small pink space, there was stillness.

There was warmth.

There was hope.

"Roki?"

Todoroki glanced up, his eyes soft and expectant.

"Yes?"

Sero looked like he was about to explode from nerves. He scratched at the side of his jaw, then wrung his hands, glanced at the ceiling, then the floor, then Todoroki again. "Do you... I don't know but um... I know this may be weird but um... if you don't want to, that's totally okay but um... maybe—"

"Hanta."

Sero froze mid-babble, the way he always did when Todoroki gently said his name with that unblinking, patient stare. He gulped, took a breath, then reached forward to take Todoroki's hands in his own. They were always cool to the touch—steady and grounding, like running water over stone.

Todoroki tensed slightly. Not because he didn't want to be touched—he did. But because whenever Sero got like this—hands slightly trembling, face a little too flushed—it meant something serious was coming. Something real. And Todoroki still wasn't used to that. Not yet.

"Hanta? Are you okay?" he asked, voice softening.

Sero looked him in the eyes, shut his own tight, and blurted out in one breath:

"Wouldyouliketostayoveratmyfamily'shouseforvacation?"

Todoroki blinked, tilted his head. "Huh?"

Sero groaned softly, laughing at himself. "Okay. Sorry. What I meant was... would you... maybe like to stay over at my family's house for the holiday break?"

There was a long beat of silence.

Todoroki just stared. Wide-eyed. Blinking slowly, like the words didn't quite compute.

"You... want me to come with you?"

Sero scratched the back of his head, trying not to combust. "Y-Yeah. I mean... my older siblings are doing their own thing this year—out with friends, staying in Tokyo—so it's just gonna be me, my parents, and my three little sisters. I just thought..."

Todoroki didn't say anything. Still blinking, still processing. That same unreadable, reserved look that sometimes made Sero overthink way too hard.

"I mean," Sero rushed, "it's okay if not. You don't have to. I just thought... maybe it'd be nice for you. Not to be alone. Or... not to go there. And I just—man, Roki, don't look at me like that! You're making it harder to breathe!"

Todoroki looked away, embarrassed. His face had gone a soft, rosy pink, like cherry blossoms blooming under frost.

"I don't know..." he murmured.

"Mi vida," Sero said, reaching out, gently brushing Todoroki's cheek with his thumb. "It doesn't have to be a big deal. It could just be... us. We'd watch movies with my sisters, eat tamales, decorate cookies, throw wrapping paper at each other. No pressure. No expectations. Just warmth."

Todoroki's mouth parted slightly. No one had ever said it like that before. No one had ever offered home to him as if it were something soft. Something chosen. Not obligation, not tradition. Not what a father demanded—but what someone like Sero wanted to share.

And that, in itself, made something ache and bloom in his chest all at once.

"I just want you to be happy, Roki," Sero whispered. "You deserve that."

That was all it took.

A small, involuntary spark of flame flickered in Todoroki's hair. Sero yelped and began frantically fanning him with a nearby notebook, mumbling about how Mina was going to kill them both if her pink rug caught on fire.

Todoroki quickly smothered the flame with his palm, still caught between horror and bashful joy. He cleared his throat, flustered beyond comprehension.

"I—sorry," he said quickly, ears glowing. "I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, it's fine," Sero said with a shaky laugh, sitting back down and trying to steady his heartbeat. "Honestly? I think it's kinda adorable."

Before he could say more, Todoroki leaned forward and pressed a soft, reverent kiss to Sero's lips.

It was brief. Gentle. Like a falling snowflake landing on your skin.

Sero froze. Then slowly blinked, mouth slightly agape.

When Todoroki pulled back, there was the smallest smile playing on his lips—tender and warm in a way that Sero knew was rare. Precious. A version of Shoto Todoroki that few ever got to see.

"You're very kind to me, Hanta," he whispered. "Thank you."

Sero beamed. But then, almost immediately, Todoroki's expression dimmed again. He looked away.

"But... I don't think I can take your offer."

Sero's heart sank. "What? Why not?"

Todoroki hesitated. "Because it's your family. Your time. I don't want to intrude. I couldn't take that from you."

Sero's brows drew together. "Roki... you're not taking anything. You'd be part of it. That's the whole point."

Todoroki kissed his cheek and gave him another faint smile. "You're sweet. But I'd feel like a burden."

Sero opened his mouth to protest, but Todoroki held up a hand.

"Really. I'll be okay. I promise. And... we can still do that gift exchange."

Sero sat back, sighing dramatically as he flopped against Todoroki's side like a defeated cat. "You're so stubborn."

"You're the stubborn one," Todoroki murmured, resting his head on top of Sero's. "I said no and you're still trying."

"Because I care," Sero muttered into his hoodie. "And I want you to feel you deserve the care."

There was a pause. Then:

"I do," Todoroki said. "With you... I do."

Sero's breath caught.

He slowly looked up, met Todoroki's eyes again.

There wasn't fire this time. No sparks. No storm.

Just something steady. Unshakeable.

"You're... really important to me, mi vida."

"I know."

And even though Todoroki didn't say the words back, it was enough. Because that look—the soft one, with no armor, no guard, no fear—that was more honest than any confession.

Sero pulled him close again, this time gently threading their fingers together.

Todoroki stayed curled against Sero for a while, his breath finally steadying. Sero didn't rush him. He simply rested his chin lightly on Todoroki's head, one arm around his shoulders and the other tracing aimless circles into the boy's forearm. It was quiet now. Not the tense, awkward kind—but the kind that made everything feel slower. Safer.

Outside the window, the sky had softened to that glowing pre-dusk hue, all watercolor purples and sleepy pinks, light just barely touching the frost that kissed the edges of the dorm's windows. Inside, the scent of Mina's strawberry-scented lotion lingered faintly in the air. A faint K-pop song played from a half-muted phone speaker on her dresser.

And for once, Todoroki wasn't trying to anticipate what would happen next. He wasn't bracing for tension, or calculating the safest response, or weighing how much of himself was too much to show.

He was just here.

With Sero.

"Mi vida," Sero whispered, lips brushing Todoroki's temple. "I want you to know something."

Todoroki hummed lightly against his chest, shifting so his cheek now pressed directly over Sero's heartbeat. It grounded him in ways he didn't understand.

Sero smiled, feeling the soft press of hair against his collar.

"I know the holidays are hard for you. I won't pretend to get it, not all of it. But I want to be there, however you need me to be."

Todoroki didn't speak. But the way his hand gripped the fabric of Sero's hoodie a little tighter said everything.

"You deserve more than just 'surviving' break," Sero added softly. "You deserve warmth. Laughter. Stupid Christmas movies and fuzzy socks and ugly sweaters that I'm definitely going to make you wear."

That earned a small, reluctant chuckle against his chest. Todoroki tilted his head just enough to look up at him, eyes a little brighter now, the faintest edge of a smirk playing on his lips.

"You're really going to make me wear an ugly sweater?"

"Oh, absolutely. Preferably one that lights up and plays music when you walk."

"That sounds like a walking fire hazard."

Sero grinned. "So do you when you're mad. I'm not scared."

Todoroki rolled his eyes but couldn't stop the twitch of amusement on his face. It was rare, this version of him—unguarded and dryly teasing—but Sero lived for those moments. They felt like small treasures hidden beneath layers of frost.

"I suppose... if it's for the gift exchange, I'll wear the sweater," Todoroki muttered.

Sero gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "Did I just get a voluntary compromise from Shoto 'Emotionally Repressed' Todoroki?"

Todoroki arched an eyebrow. "You're dating me. That was your choice."

"And I would make it again," Sero said instantly, serious now.

The sudden shift in tone made Todoroki's breath catch. He looked back at him, stunned into silence.

"I mean it," Sero said, threading his fingers carefully through Todoroki's. "I'd pick you again. Over and over. Even if you forget to laugh at my jokes, even if try to teach me math, even if you look like you're planning a murder every time I mention hot cocoa."

Todoroki's lips twitched again. "I don't look like that."

"You do," Sero said, chuckling. "You have this little scowl, like the marshmallows personally offended your bloodline."

"Hot drinks are inefficient," Todoroki said, half-muttering now.

"And yet," Sero teased, tapping his nose, "you drink tea like a Victorian ghost."

"Tea is different."

"Sure it is."

There was laughter now—soft, real laughter. It felt like the sun breaking through snow clouds.

Then, after a beat, Todoroki glanced down at their intertwined hands.

"I've never done a gift exchange," he admitted. "Not like that. Something just... for fun."

Sero's heart clenched.

"Well," he said, nudging their shoulders together, "you're doing one now. We'll keep it simple. Max limit... 2,000 yen, but extra points for thoughtfulness. Deal?"

"Deal," Todoroki said after a moment. Then, more quietly: "Do you... already have an idea for mine?"

Sero smirked, eyes gleaming. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Todoroki narrowed his eyes. "If it's a novelty mug that says 'Hot Stuff' I'm leaving."

"Nooo, that's for Valentine's Day," Sero teased, poking his side.

They fell into another comfortable silence then, punctuated only by the occasional creak of Mina's bedframe as they shifted against each other. Outside, the brown leaves had started to fall, clinging to the glass like soft little ghosts. Sero watched them quietly, still playing with Todoroki's fingers.

After a while, Todoroki spoke again, quieter this time.

"Thank you."

Sero blinked, glancing over. "For what?"

"For..." Todoroki hesitated, searching. "Making this easier. For trying to understand. For... not asking me to be anything else."

Sero's chest swelled. He leaned in and gently pressed their foreheads together.

"I don't want you to be anything else, mi vida," he murmured. "I like you exactly as you are. Weird, blunt, socially questionable—and all."

Todoroki let out a quiet breath of a laugh. His eyes fluttered closed as he leaned further in, their noses brushing.

And then—finally—he kissed him.

It was soft, unhurried, just lips against lips with a whisper of breath between them. Warmth blooming in the stillness. No fanfare. No fireworks. Just the quiet, perfect kind of kiss that said:

I'm here.

I choose you.

When they pulled back, Todoroki's expression was peaceful in a way it rarely was. His cheeks were pink, and not from the cold.

"Just so you know," he whispered, "I already started planning your gift."

Sero beamed.

"Oh, now I'm scared."

Chapter 17: Strawberry Shortcake

Notes:

Tea?

Third Person POV:

"And that is it for today."

The classroom, tense only moments before, immediately burst into the familiar after-class shuffle—zippers zipping, chairs scraping, quiet chatter bubbling up among the students of Class 1-A. A few groaned in relief, others stretched or began tossing books into their bags, already thinking about lunch or what snacks they'd raid from the dorm vending machine.

But just as backpacks started to swing over shoulders, a voice cut through the hum.

"Hold it."

Everyone froze mid-motion.

Eyes darted to the front where their eternally exhausted homeroom teacher stood, shadows carved under his eyes, arms loosely crossed over his chest, hair messier than usual—though somehow that wasn't saying much.

Aizawa Shouta, Pro Hero Eraserhead, blinked slowly at them.

"Since tomorrow's the last day before break, don't get any ideas about skipping. Just because you all didn't have to take exams doesn't mean you're off the hook."

The class collectively groaned, but the man before them remained unmoved.

"So tomorrow, you'll have a quiz. On all our recent studies. That means no slacking."

"Aw man," several students whined, slumping back into their seats.

"Yeah, yeah," Aizawa waved a hand lazily. "Groan all you want. It's happening." Then, without another word, he stepped into his trusty yellow sleeping bag, zipped it up like a seasoned professional, and plopped down behind his desk like a cat curling into a blanket.

Within moments, he was asleep.

Like... out cold.

Class 1-A just stood there. Staring.

"...How does he fall asleep that fast?" Mina whispered.

"No one knows," Midoriya replied solemnly, like he'd been pondering that very question since the first week of class.

Sero, meanwhile, wasn't laughing. He sat back in his seat, staring ahead but not really seeing anything. He was tired—emotionally more than anything. His eyes subtly slid over to Denki, who was at his desk, quietly packing his things without sparing Sero a single glance. Not even a twitch in his direction.

That was it.

That was it.

Sero clenched his jaw, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior.

He had been patient. He had been chill. He had been Sero. But this silent treatment thing? It had gone on long enough. He didn't even know what Denki was mad about anymore—if Denki was even mad. The electric blonde had just stopped talking to him, started avoiding eye contact, being all weird, and frankly?

Sero was done guessing.

He had too much on his plate already. He had a big day tomorrow—his date with Todoroki. Todoroki. His boyfriend. The one he loved to pieces and who deserved nothing but the best. Sero had been spiraling for two days straight trying to figure out where to take him, what to wear, and if he should get him a gift—was a scarf too much? Was a kiss too little?

Add to that the very depressing thought that he wouldn't get to see Todoroki for two weeks during break, and yeah... it was getting to him.

Sure they can hang out but it's not the same of being at the dorms and just being able to knock on each others door and hang out whenever or wherever.

So maybe his fuse was a little short today.

Maybe Denki picked the worst day to keep acting weird.

With zero warning, Sero stood up so quickly his chair screeched.

Kirishima flinched. Midoriya blinked up from his notebook, startled.

Sero didn't acknowledge either of them. He was on a mission.

He marched across the room with purpose, straight to Denki's desk. Denki was casually scrolling on his phone, minding his business, when—

SLAM.

Two hands hit the desk, making Denki jump a full two inches in his seat.

His eyes darted up, only to meet the sharp, narrowed glare of a very fed-up Sero.

The deadliest glare Denki had ever seen on the usually cheerful tape hero.

"Me and you. Now. We're going to talk."

Denki paled, blinking rapidly. "But I—"

"Nope. Don't care." Sero grabbed Denki's arm—not roughly, but with firm determination—and yanked him up from his chair like a sack of potatoes.

"HEY—!" Denki squawked. "Let go—jeez, dude, when did you get so strong?!"

"Shut up and walk."

Denki was practically dragged toward the hallway like a misbehaving puppy on a leash.

Several classmates stopped mid-conversation to watch the scene unfold.

Mina leaned forward in her seat, eyes wide. "Oh my god. Is this happening?"

Kirishima gave her a slow, solemn nod. "It's happening."

The two exchanged a look that clearly said, We've waited for this moment for weeks.

Meanwhile, Todoroki, who had just finished neatly placing his textbooks into his bag, paused with one hand on the zipper. The quiet rustle of movement in the classroom faded into the background as he tilted his head slightly, his heterochromatic gaze tracking Sero as he stormed toward Denki, grabbed the other boy like he was on a mission, and dragged him—quite literally—out the door.

Todoroki didn't say anything. He didn't react with surprise, or amusement, or alarm.

He just... observed.

He trusted Sero.

Completely. In a way that was quiet and still and unshakable. Whatever this was—whatever had been simmering beneath the surface of Sero's normally easy-going personality—Todoroki knew he would handle it.

Still, a small sliver of worry twisted in his gut.

He just hoped it didn't end with someone getting electrocuted.

That someone probably being Sero.

Mina stood, her sharp pink eyes trailing after the two boys who had just left. She let out a low whistle, almost impressed, before gathering up her own things and then—out of habit and instinct—grabbed Sero's too. His bag, his notebook, even his water bottle.

She always looked out for her friends. Even when they were being dramatic, angsty, or both.

Kirishima also stood, running a hand through his red hair before making his way across the room toward a familiar spiky blond.

Bakugou sat at his desk, scrolling through his phone with that concentrated scowl that could probably set off fire alarms. He didn't even look up as Kirishima approached, but he felt the arms slide around his shoulders.

His first reaction was pure instinct—tense up, ready to yell—but then he felt the warmth, the comfort, the gentle press of lips against his cheek.

That familiar feeling melted through the annoyance like butter over fire.

Bakugou relaxed. Just a little.

"Hey, Kat," Kirishima greeted, his voice soft, warm, and affectionate—like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but his mouth twitched upward. "What do you want, Ei?"

Kirishima chuckled, his smile stretching wide. "What? Can't say hi to my amazing, beautiful, absolutely explosive boyfriend?"

Bakugou snorted. "You're such a sap."

But there was fondness behind his words. Always for Kirishima.

Then Kirishima's grin faltered. His arms slipped from Bakugou's shoulders as he leaned against the desk.

"I might be late for movie night," he admitted, eyes apologetic.

Bakugou's small smirk vanished like a match snuffed out by wind. "The hell? What're you doing now, Shitty Hair? You're supposed to..." He looked around to make sure no one was near before looking back at his boyfriend, " You're supposed to rehearse for that dinner."

Kirishima sighed, clearly torn. "I know you're mad, babe, but it's just that... well... Sero's doing something big. Like—big-big. It could finally fix the whole mess that's been happening. You know, with Denki and all that tension?"

Bakugou frowned, his brows pulling together. "Pretty sure that Tape-Face idiot doesn't need you to hold his hand through it."

Kirishima gave him a look. Not angry. Just serious. "Katsuki."

Bakugou froze.

Kirishima never used his name unless something was serious serious.

"I need to be there. For Sero. For Denki. For all of us, honestly," he continued. "It's important. And I promised him. I just... I had to let you know."

Bakugou's fiery temper fizzled out like a short circuit. He hated when his Ei looked like that—like his heart was torn in two and he had to pick a side.

"...Fine," Bakugou muttered after a long pause. "Just don't miss the whole damn night. I got the good snacks this time."

Kirishima's eyes lit up with relief. "I won't. I swear."

Just then, Mina reappeared, practically skipping over, her arms full of Sero's stuff.

"Kiri, let's go. We've got recon to do," she grinned, tossing a glance over her shoulder toward the hallway.

Kirishima smiled at Bakugou one last time, then leaned in to kiss him—slow, soft, grateful.

"See you later, babe."

Bakugou grunted, cheeks a little redder than before. "Tch. You better Shitty Hair."

And with that, Kirishima let Mina pull him out of the classroom, both of them looking like they were preparing for battle—or at least the drama equivalent of one.

Bakugou sat there in silence for a moment, arms crossed, jaw clenched. His knee bounced.

He hated being left out.

He really hated not knowing what the hell was going on.

So naturally, he stood up, packed his things with the quiet force of a man ready to punch answers out of the world, and made a beeline toward one person who might know what Sero was planning.

Todoroki had just finished checking his list—he had a vague idea of what he wanted to get Hanta, something thoughtful but not too flashy. Maybe a manga, or a limited-edition case for his hero gear.

Something personal.

Momo and Tokoyami were supposed to meet him at the front gate, and he wanted to get moving.

But just as he swung his bag over his shoulder, he felt a presence beside him.

"Icyhot."

He turned and saw Bakugou.

And Bakugou looked pissed.

Todoroki blinked. "Hello, Bakugou. What do you—"

"What the fuck is your boyfriend up to?"

The words were sharp, pointed like knives dipped in gasoline.

Todoroki tilted his head, ever calm. "I'm not sure I follow."

Bakugou scanned the room quickly. Most of their classmates were busy chattering, packing up, or already gone. No one was close enough to hear.

He stepped in closer, voice low. "That TapeFace loser just dragged Dunce Face out of here like he was gonna throw him in a locker. Raccoon Eyes and Shitty Hair followed. And apparently, whatever's going on is 'major.'"

Todoroki's brow twitched. Concern crept in slowly like mist over water. "I see."

Bakugou folded his arms, impatient. "You don't look surprised."

"I'm not," Todoroki admitted. "But I didn't think it would escalate so quickly."

Bakugou narrowed his eyes. "He didn't tell you?"

Todoroki hesitated.

"...No. But I knew something was bothering him. Something about Kaminari. He's been... on edge."

Bakugou exhaled slowly through his nose. "Yeah. That tracks. Everyone's been walking around like a goddamn soap opera lately. I'm sick of it."

Todoroki reached for his phone, checking the time. "I was supposed to meet Momo and Tokoyami to shop for a gift. But maybe I should—"

"Come with me," Bakugou interrupted, jerking his head toward the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What the actual fuck is your problem, dude?"

Sero's voice cracked like a whip through the quiet practice field, sharper than usual. It wasn't angry in the explosive Bakugou kind of way—but it cut. And maybe that made it worse.

Denki flinched but didn't speak.

Mina stepped forward, arms folded and her brows drawn together in genuine concern.

"Yeah, you ignoring our texts and just ghosting us for the past week? Not cool."

Her pout was half-playful, half-wounded. Like she wanted to joke her way through this, but she wasn't sure she could.

Kirishima followed suit, the crease in his brow more noticeable than usual.

"And hanging with Class 1-B? Fine. But Monoma?" His voice dropped with disgust.

"Dude, he literally called Katsuki a ticking time bomb. You know how much that got to him—how much I care about that—and you still decided to act like he was your new best friend."

Denki opened his mouth as if to retort, but it snapped shut again when Sero stepped forward. The tape-user was rarely this serious—his usually laid-back aura now tight and tense like a stretched rubber band.

"Look, man. I'm sorry for not telling you about the date. It wasn't personal. It just... wasn't supposed to be public."

He motioned between Kirishima and Mina.

"These two being there was a fluke. I wasn't hiding it from you to be cruel. I just had to wait until Todoroki felt okay with me saying anything."

Kirishima added, trying to soften the blow, "And you were literally the first person I ever told I liked Kat, remember?"

"I thought I was the first," Mina interjected with a small huff.

Kirishima shot her a mild glare. "Not helping."

"Oops," she muttered, backing off, hands up in surrender.

Sero rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes never leaving Denki.

"You're my best bro, man. You are. If it were up to me, you'd know everything. But I had to respect Roki's boundaries. That's what a relationship is."

Denki didn't look up. His arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he was trying to hold something in. Something boiling and bubbling and ugly and scared.

When he finally spoke, his voice cracked.

"It just feels like... like you don't want to be my friend anymore."

Mina's face fell. Kirishima blinked, stunned.

Sero? Sero looked like he'd been slapped.

"Huh?" the tape-user breathed.

Denki finally looked up—and he wasn't crying, but his eyes were glassy with the threat of it.

"You all have your boyfriends now. That's all you care about."

He turned toward Kirishima.

"It's always 'Bakugou this, Bakugou that.' I can't even talk to you anymore without hearing about what Kat said over lunch."

Kirishima's shoulders dropped, jaw clenching.

Denki's gaze turned to Sero—sharper, now. Not just hurt. Angry.

"And you? You're the worst about it. You spiraled over a guy who—who barely gave you the time of day until like, what, two months ago? The guy who almost killed you? The same guy who blasted you unconscious during the Sports Festival, and suddenly you're lovesick over him like none of that happened."

Sero's expression darkened. Mina tried to intervene.

"Denki, come on—we don't just talk about them. We always try to include you, and we ask about your crushes and—"

"It's not about crushes!" Denki snapped, louder than he meant to.

He immediately looked regretful, but the words kept tumbling out.

"It's about us. We used to hang out. We had movie nights. Arcade runs. Dumb karaoke battles and late-night soba runs. Now it's all double dates and group dinners with your boyfriends tagging along like they're part of the original squad."

Kirishima tried to smile, to make it less heavy. "It wouldn't be manly to leave 'em out, right?"

But Denki wasn't buying it.

"What happened to just... us?"

His voice cracked again, and this time he didn't try to hide it.

"I know you care about them. I'm not saying you shouldn't. But I didn't realize loving someone meant forgetting your friends."

Sero looked down. Guilt settled across his shoulders like a weighted cape.

He hadn't even realized—hadn't seen how often he brought Todoroki into every conversation. How often he prioritized time with him over them.

And Kirishima... it was obvious now. When was the last time they did something without Bakugou tagging along? When was the last time they made Denki laugh so hard he couldn't breathe?

Mina moved forward, reaching up to cup Denki's cheek gently.

"I hear you, babe. I really do. And we're gonna fix this, okay? We can hang today—just the four of us. No crushes. No plus-ones. Right guys?"

Sero and Kirishima both stiffened.

"Uh... I actually have this thing with Kat tonight," Kirishima started, wincing.

"And I still really need to find Roki's gift before tomorrow for our gift exchange or I'll combust from stress—"

"There it is!" he shouted, stepping back. His voice cracked with raw frustration."Every. Damn. Time. It's always them first! I open up to you—you both—I finally say what's on my mind and what do I get? Excuses. A movie night. A stupid gift. You two don't even try to hide it anymore!"

The air stilled. Mina flinched. Even the wind seemed to pause, as if afraid to interfere.

Sero's jaw clenched. He exchanged a glance with Kirishima—one that lasted only a second but said everything. The guilt. The panic. The exhaustion. The sadness.

Kirishima sighed, long and slow, then nodded. And Sero turned back to Denki.

He forced a sad smile, though it wobbled at the edges.

"I'll hang out with you, man."

Kirishima followed, his voice softer. "Yeah. Same here."

Denki blinked, like he hadn't expected them to actually agree. His posture shifted, the defensiveness softening, turning to uncertainty.

"You mean it?" he asked, his voice suddenly small.

Vulnerable.

Kirishima already had his phone out. "Yeah. I'll just tell Kat we need a rain check."

"And I'll just... not cry," Sero tried to joke with a laugh, but his voice faltered at the end. He wasn't kidding.

He needed to find that gift. He'd been thinking about it for days. He wanted it to be perfect—something Todoroki would actually smile about, something meaningful. Something that would make Roki feel loved, the way he deserved to.

But Denki's voice, so full of hurt, had shattered something inside him. Made it impossible to walk away without feeling like he was abandoning someone.

Again.

'Maybe I can find something while we're out,' Sero told himself, though the idea already felt hollow. Forced.

Then—arms wrapped around his neck. Denki pulled him into a tight, clingy hug, his face buried against Sero's shoulder.

"Oh, I missed you, bro!"

Sero blinked. His chest felt tight. But he smiled.

"Same here, man."

"Hey, what about me?" Kirishima whined, his voice purposefully overdramatic.

"And me!" Mina added with a playful huff.

Denki used one arm to drape around Sero's shoulder and the other to ruffle Kirishima's hair.

"Of course you two. You're my ride-or-dies."

Mina grinned. "So... are we good now?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips, though her tone was lighter.

Denki nodded slowly. "Yeah. We're good. And... I'm sorry about that night. I was overwhelmed, and I let my emotions get the better of me. I just—I thought our friendship was ending. It felt like I was already being replaced."

Sero raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

Denki let out a heavy sigh and stepped back, finally letting go of him.

"It was okay when you guys invited Bakugou and Todoroki as friends. But once you started dating them, it just... changed. It's like they became your everything. And I got left behind. I didn't know where I fit anymore."

Sero and Kirishima shared another look, this one heavier. Mina cooed gently.

"Aw, Denki. We wouldn't leave you behind, dummy."

"Yeah, bro," Kirishima added with a forced smile. "You're our family."

But Sero stayed silent. The weight in his chest wasn't letting up.

Because even now—even after all that—something didn't sit right. Something gnawed at him.

What Denki said about Todoroki.

During the Sports Festival, Todoroki hadn't held back. Everyone knew that. But it wasn't malicious. It was pain. It was trauma. It was desperation. Sero knew that now. Knew how broken Todoroki had been inside, how much pressure he carried, how ashamed he was of his power and where it came from.

Todoroki still apologized for it, months later, whenever it came up. He would go quiet. Nervous. Guilty. Like he didn't think he deserved to be forgiven.

So to hear Denki throw that moment in his face—like Todoroki had done it on purpose—that wasn't fair. It was cruel. And maybe Denki didn't mean it that way... but it still hurt.

Really hurt.

Sero sighed, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as Denki wrapped around him again.

"Yo, Sero—where do you wanna hang out tonight?"

Sero blinked. Mina was still smiling, trying to keep the peace. Kirishima, though...

He was staring down at his phone, fingers frozen, eyes glazed with guilt.

Sero knew that look.

Knew Kirishima had just typed out a message canceling on Bakugou—on Katsuki, the boy he'd worked so hard to open up to, to build something real with.

And all for a friend who didn't seem to understand what he was asking them to give up.

Sero's thoughts twisted, burning behind his eyes.

'This is important to Kiri,' he reminded himself, throat tight. 'This isn't just a hangout. This is something he worked for. Something sacred. Something he was finally proud of.'

Bakugou didn't let people in. And Kirishima—he fought for that closeness. Sero remembered the months of self-doubt, the crushing insecurity in Kiri's eyes. How he used to flinch when Bakugou barked at him, then laugh it off like it didn't sting. Like he didn't care. But he did. Sero knew he did.

And now... now he was skipping a preparations for dinner with Bakugou's parents, something he'd nervously been planning for weeks—because Denki threw a tantrum.

And what about him? What about Sero?

He was standing there, sacrificing the one shot he had to get his boyfriend—the boy he loved—a meaningful gift before break. And for what? For a friend who ditched them when they needed him. Who flung guilt at them the second they found happiness. Who dragged Todoroki's trauma into the spotlight like it was a prop in his pity parade.

He crossed a line.

Sero's chest felt like it was about to cave in.

The guilt. The resentment. The pressure. It all cracked at once.

And he stepped back, out of Denki's arms.

"Hey... Denki."

The blond looked up at him, blinking with that same hopeful, vulnerable smile.

It made Sero sick with conflict. That smile used to bring him comfort. Now, it just reminded him of everything Denki refused to see.

"I don't think I can hang out tonight."

Everything stopped.

"Wha...?"

Sero inhaled sharply, and his voice came out lower. Sharper.

"Kirishima's been planning this dinner with Bakugou's parents for weeks, man. It means something to him. But you wouldn't know that. Because you ditched us."

"Sero—" Mina tried, voice uncertain.

But he wasn't finished. Not even close.

He turned toward Denki fully, and his tone wasn't kind anymore. It was honest.

"Look, I love you. I really do. But if we're your friends—shouldn't you be happy for us? You know how bad Kiri felt about himself. You were there the night he broke down because he didn't think he'd ever be good enough for Bakugou. He thought he wasn't worthy of love."

Kirishima gasped. His shoulders tensed, and his jaw locked, but he didn't say anything. Because Sero was right. He remembered that night too well.

The way he'd curled into himself on his bed. How he said "I'm just background noise to him. Just a guy he tolerates." How he cried because he thought Bakugou would never see him that way.

And Sero wasn't done.

"And me?" he said, voice breaking just slightly. "I told you I was struggling too. That seeing Todoroki with Midoriya crushed me. I was fucking depressed dude. I opened up. I trusted you. You know I thought I was too lame. Too weak for someone like him. And you said you got it. We talked about that. Don't you remember?"

Denki's expression cracked. His arms fell to his sides.

Mina stepped toward Sero cautiously, noticing his hands were shaking.

"Sero..." she said softly.

But it was too late. The damn burst.

"You don't get to throw our happiness in our faces like it's some crime we committed against you. We're sorry we didn't notice sooner that you were feeling left out, but you don't get to make us feel bad for being in relationships we fought for. We tried to talk to you. You shut us out. You left us. And now you want to play the victim?"

Denki took a step back, his eyes wide and stung.

Sero's voice rose, his tone full of hurt and frustration.

"You made Mina and Kiri feel like crap just for being good friends. That's not friendship, Denki. That's guilt-tripping. That's manipulation. And it's fucked up."

The word echoed. A silence swept the hallway.

Sero's heart pounded. His fists clenched. He hated raising his voice. Hated being this harsh. But he couldn't bottle it anymore. Not when Todoroki's name—his love—was dragged into the dirt.

He took one final breath. One last, trembling exhale.

"So until you cool off and apologize to them—and to me—I'm gonna go do something I should've done hours ago."

He reached for his bag and slung it over his shoulder, stepping toward the door.

"I'm gonna find a Christmas gift for my amazing, gorgeous, kind boyfriend who treats me like I actually matter. Adiós, mis amigos."

And with that, he walked out.

The door clicked softly shut behind him. No one spoke.

Kirishima stared at the floor, torn between guilt and pride.

Mina had her hands clasped at her chest, eyes glassy. She didn't expect that from Sero.

And Denki...

He looked hollow. Like someone had just pulled the floor out from under him and he hadn't hit the ground yet.

Outside, Sero walked fast, then faster. His legs burned. His lungs tightened.

'Goddammit,' he thought, swiping at his eyes. 'I blew it. I snapped. I fucking snapped.'

"We were cool until I opened my big fat mouth!"

But then—he remembered Denki's words.

Remembered Todoroki's face when he flinched at the mention of the Sports Festival. Remembered how Kirishima used to bite the inside of his cheek until it bled just to keep from crying when Bakugou ignored him.

And he slowed.

He exhaled.

Because yeah—maybe he did just cause drama.

But he also protected the people he loved. He defended Todoroki when Denki couldn't see past his own hurt. He gave voice to things everyone else was too scared to say.

So even if it hurt...

Even if it wrecked him inside...

He walked away with something else too:

Pride.

And the understanding that sometimes?

Standing up for love meant being the villain in someone else's story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV

This feeling...

It...

Hurts.

Like something sharp and cold lodged deep in my chest, refusing to melt or move.

Did I cause it?

No. That doesn't make sense.

He was lying.

He had to be lying.

...Wasn't he?

...

...

...No.

He wasn't.

There was no grin. No awkward joke. No "I'm fine." No shrug. Not even a smirk.

Hanta didn't smile it off.

He didn't say anything.

And that silence was louder than any scream.

So it must be true.

Hanta—Sero—got depressed.

Because of me.

He seemed fine. He always seemed fine. Goofy, laid-back, dependable. Cracking jokes. Lightening the mood when things got too tense.

There weren't any signs... were there?

But that's the thing, isn't it?

You don't always see it. That's what our mental health lesson taught us. Depression isn't always obvious. It hides behind smiles and "I'm okay"s.

And now... now I can't stop thinking about it. That maybe, while I was off chasing someone who didn't even really love me, Hanta was—he was suffering.

Because of me.

Because I ignored him.

Because I didn't see him.

Because I didn't choose him.

After Bakugou yanked me out of the hallway with no warning, he started barking questions at me like always. Something about Kirishima ditching plans for Sero.

I told him I didn't know what he was talking about.

I didn't.

I was supposed to meet Momo and Tokoyami at the mall today—we were going to look for a gift for Hanta. I'd been planning it for a week. I wanted it to be perfect. Something he'd like. Something he'd remember.

Because lately... I wanted to show him he mattered. That he wasn't just the funny guy in the corner or the glue of the class. That I see him now.

But maybe it's already too late.

I told Bakugou to let go of me, but then I heard it—Kaminari's voice, loud and cracked with frustration.

"And you? You're the worst about it. You spiraled over a guy who—who barely gave you the time of day until like, what, two months ago? The guy who almost killed you? The same guy who blasted you unconscious during the Sports Festival, and suddenly you're lovesick over him like none of that happened?"

I froze.

The words burned through me like fire through paper.

He was talking about me.

I blasted Hanta in the Sports Festival. I knocked him unconscious. He had to be carried out on a stretcher. And then I went on with my life—cold, composed, distant as ever.

And he...

He fell in love with me?

He was hurting for months, and I was too blind, too distracted, to notice.

Too busy obsessing over Midoriya. Too caught up in trying to be something I thought I needed to be.

I thought he was tired because of training, or maybe he was slacking off. That's what we all thought. That's what I told myself.

But I was wrong.

I was so, so wrong.

Sero wasn't slacking off.

He was breaking.

And the worst part?

I let it happen.

I kept smiling at Midoriya like nothing was wrong. Kept chasing him like a fool. And I ignored the one person who always showed up for me.

I didn't see the bags under Hanta's eyes. The days he didn't eat much. The way his laughter got quieter. The way he started fading into the background like he didn't want to take up space anymore.

And now... now I hear it all secondhand. Like a knife in my side, twisted slowly.

I thought I knew what pain was.

I've burned.

I've frozen.

I've fought my own father, stared him down while every bone in my body told me to run or obey. I've been used as a pawn by people stronger and colder than I ever wanted to be. I've bled in arenas I wasn't ready for. I've nearly died on battlefields where I was still learning how to live.

But this?

This is worse.

This isn't fire or ice or physical wounds.

This is regret.

This is knowing that you were the reason someone you care about started to disappear from themselves.

My classmate. My friend. My—god, Hanta.

I didn't see his pain. I didn't stop it. I didn't even try.

I thought... I thought that giving him a gift—something simple, something thoughtful—would be enough. I thought it would prove I cared. That I was trying. That I was worthy of the relationship growing between us.

But now?

Now I don't even know if I deserve to look him in the eyes.

Because the truth is brutal, and it tastes like iron on my tongue:

I hurt him.

Not just emotionally. Physically. I froze him. Scarred him. Not out of self-defense, not in some sanctioned training spar.

I lashed out because of him—because of my father.

And Hanta paid the price for wounds that didn't belong to him.

And now... I have to live with that.

He got hurt on the inside and outside, and all of it was because of me.

"Dunce Face got some fucking nerve," Bakugou snapped.

I blinked, pulled sharply from the spiral in my head by Bakugou's voice. He was a blur of rage behind me, pacing like a wild animal. I didn't care what had triggered him this time.

My gaze drifted to where he stood—Hanta.

My boyfriend.

My broken-boyfriend.

" Oh I missed you bro!"

...And then I saw it.

Kaminari had his arms wrapped around Hanta, and Hanta—he didn't return it, not really. But he didn't pull away either. His shoulders were tense, his smile fake, too wide, too stiff, the kind that screamed discomfort.

And yet—he stayed there.

My chest twisted.

No—my whole body was reacting. My blood felt like it was boiling beneath my skin, a low crackling energy building in my fingertips. A tingle on the right side of my body, ice forming in the air between my knuckles before I could catch it.

Control it.

But it wasn't just my quirk acting up—it was me. I was angry.

Seeing Kaminari touching him like that—after everything—made me feel like my organs had turned upside down. Like I was filled with fire and snow and acid all at once.

Why didn't Hanta say anything?

Why did he let Denki hold him like that?

What did I want him to say?

"Stop, I have a boyfriend"?

"Don't touch me"?

"That spot is taken"?

It wasn't fair to expect that. He looked uneasy. That should have been enough for me. But it wasn't.

Because that wasn't just Hanta's discomfort I was seeing—it was mine.

Reflected. Mirrored. Amplified.

I was spiraling.

This wasn't like the warm flush I got when he teased me in Spanish, when his jokes made me smile before I could stop myself. This was different. Wrong. The heat on my cheeks now wasn't fondness.

It was frustration. Shame. Rage.

And it was all my fault.

Because Kaminari? He was the one who'd said it aloud:

That I caused Hanta's depression. That my selfishness, my baggage, my inability to let go of my father had almost killed the person I—

No. I couldn't even think the word.

And now here I was—watching him be touched by someone else, when I didn't even feel like I had the right to be near him anymore.

I'm just like him.

I'm just like my father.

"—I don't think I can hang out tonight."

The words cut across the air. Quiet. Controlled. But off.

My eyes snapped to Hanta immediately.

His expression—

He was upset.

No. Not just upset. Hanta was... hurt.

It wasn't like at the Sports Festival, where he bounced back with a joke and a thumbs-up. This was different. This was heavy.

"Kirishima's been planning this dinner with Bakugou's parents for weeks, man. It means something to him. But you wouldn't know that. Because you ditched us."

That voice didn't sound like Hanta. At least not the version of him I'd grown used to. He sounded—sharp. Bitter. He snapped, and it left the room spinning.

I glanced at Bakugou, expecting an explosion—but he was... calm?

No. Not calm. Quiet.

Resentful.

It hit me all at once. The dinner. The practice. The weird way Kirishima had been calling me "Mrs. Bakugou" during roleplay. Mina fussing over his posture and pacing. They had been preparing. It mattered.

And Denki had ditched them.

But why was Hanta this upset?

"Look, I love you. I really do. But if we're your friends—shouldn't you be happy for us?"

Love?

Hanta loved Denki?

No, that wasn't the point. He was talking about friendship. About connection. About being seen.

"You know how bad Kiri felt about himself. You were there the night he broke down because he didn't think he'd ever be good enough for Bakugou."

I froze.

I hadn't known that. I had no idea Kirishima had been so close to breaking. He always smiled. Always laughed. I looked over again at Bakugou—was that shame in his eyes?

Maybe he didn't know either.

And then—

"And me?" Hanta's voice cracked slightly. "I told you I was struggling too. That seeing Todoroki with Midoriya crushed me. I was fucking depressed, dude. I opened up. I trusted you."

My lungs stopped working.

I didn't know he had felt that way. I hadn't understood.

"You know I thought I was too lame. Too weak for someone like him."

Me.

He thought he was too weak for me.

I lowered my gaze.

I had hurt him.

I had taken what little confidence he had in himself and shattered it without meaning to—just by being someone else's, just by being blind.

"You don't get to throw our happiness in our faces like it's some crime we committed against you."

Hanta was trembling. But not backing down.

And I knew—deep down—I was part of that pain too. Even if the words were meant for Kaminari.

Because I had failed to see how much he needed someone.

How much he needed me.

I wanted to move. Say something. Anything. A word, a breath, a step forward.

But I couldn't.

I stood there frozen—my body rigid, locked in place—while Hanta stood there bleeding honesty in front of all of us. While he tore himself open in a room full of people, and I did nothing but watch.

"You made Mina and Kiri feel like crap just for being good friends. That's not friendship, Denki. That's guilt-tripping. That's manipulation. And it's fucked up."

The silence that followed wasn't empty.

It was loud—louder than Bakugou's shouting had been, louder than Kaminari's dramatics ever were. It was full of the weight of things we should've seen sooner. Full of pain that had been ignored. And I stood there like a coward in the shell of a hero, trying to pretend I hadn't made everything worse just by being me.

Because how do you speak when you know you're part of the reason someone you care about started breaking?

I felt sick.

Hanta was clearly upset, angry, overwhelmed—but not at me. Not directly.

And somehow, that made it worse.

I didn't even deserve his anger, not yet. I hadn't earned it because I hadn't shown up for him when it mattered. I wasn't even a thought in the confrontation. I was just... watching. Standing on the sidelines of my own mistake.

I shouldn't have listened.

I shouldn't have come out here.

But I couldn't walk away either.

Every word he said echoed like a punch to the ribs. I wasn't supposed to be here, but I had to hear it. Because if I turned my back now—if I walked away from what I'd done—I'd never be able to fix it.

I took a breath, ready to leave quietly. To disappear back inside and try to pretend I hadn't stood here like a shadow with a heartbeat.

But then—

"So until you cool off and apologize to them—and to me—I'm gonna go do something I should've done hours ago," Hanta said, voice steady and sharp. "I'm gonna find a Christmas gift for my amazing, gorgeous, kind boyfriend who treats me like I actually matter. Adiós, mis amigos."

The words stopped me in my tracks.

'My amazing, gorgeous, kind boyfriend.'

My chest tightened—and not in the painful way it had been before.

My face felt warm.

That same warmth he always managed to pull out of me, the one I never quite understood but never wanted to lose. It flooded my cheeks before I could stop it.

Does he... still think I'm beautiful?

Even after everything?

Even though I froze him—hurt him—pushed him away?

Why?

Why would he still think that way?

I looked at his retreating figure, the determination in his walk, the way he didn't look back—but the way he spoke about me, like I still mattered to him.

It made no sense.

I don't understand him. I never fully have. Hanta always feels so unpredictable—so warm, so funny, so casually kind in ways that sneak up on me. He surprises me.

Confuses me.

But... that's what I like about him.

That's what keeps pulling me toward him even when I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to get close.

And yet, all I could feel now was guilt. Sharp and biting.

He shouldn't have to forgive me.

He shouldn't have to say those kinds of things about me after what I did.

He must be mad at me.

He has every right to be.

"Denki! Come back!"

Mina and Kirishima's voices pulled me from my thoughts again.

I looked up, blinking, just in time to see Kaminari storming past me.

I didn't know what expression I expected to see on his face—but it wasn't that.

There was no grin. No teasing smile. No casual joke about electricity or girls or literally anything.

There were tears.

And there was rage.

The kind of rage I was more used to seeing on Bakugou's face—not Kaminari's. It was so strange I couldn't process it at first. Like my brain didn't want to put the pieces together.

Why was he angry?

At Hanta?

At... me?

He didn't even look at the others—he was looking straight at me, and I didn't know what I did to deserve it.

Or maybe I did.

Maybe he found out.

Maybe he knew what happened between me and Hanta—and maybe that's what hurt the most. That someone else had seen what I couldn't.

Does Kaminari like me?

No.

That's not it. That wouldn't explain this.

Then why does he look like that? Why does he look like he wants to scream and cry at the same time?

Did I take something from him? Did I break something I didn't even know was fragile?

I felt my head spin.

Too many questions. Not enough answers. I was drowning in thoughts I couldn't voice.

"...Todoroki?"

Momo's voice cut through the storm.

I turned, startled.

She and Tokoyami had their bags slung over their shoulders, looking at me with concern.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked gently.

I looked back one more time.

Kaminari had vanished. Mina and Kirishima were huddled together with Bakugou, everyone trying to piece together what had just fallen apart.

And Hanta...

Hanta had walked out that door to buy me a gift.

Even when I'd given him nothing but pain.

I clenched my hands into fists.

I wasn't going to let this be the end of it.

I was going to fix this. Somehow.

I'll find a way to show him how much he means to me. To prove I'm not my father. That I can grow. That I can be better.

For him.

I looked at my friends again. And nodded.

"I'm ready."

But this time—I meant it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV:

Goddamn it!

Three. Freaking. Hours.

Three hours in this stupid mall and I still can't find the perfect gift for my absolutely gorgeous, emotionally complex, outrageously talented boyfriend.

You'd think it would be easy, right? Just get him something cute, call it a day. But no. Because this isn't just anybody—we're talking about Shoto freaking Todoroki. The man is a walking contradiction of soft and stoic, a human furnace with a cat-like love for sleep and soba, and apparently the most difficult person in the world to shop for.

I know his likes—I've memorized them like my life depends on it.

He loves soba. Empanadas. Cats. Running. Building things. Reading manga and watching anime. He works well with kids, has a major sweet tooth (but pretends not to), and secretly loves crafts and DIY stuff. Like, I watched him hand-stitch a glove for an old lady during our patrol assigment last month.

He's that kind of guy.

So, yeah. He's amazing.

Which is why absolutely nothing in this godforsaken mall is good enough for him.

Goddamn!

I mean, seriously—how hard is it to find a gift that screams:

"I'm deeply in love with you, sorry for being a chaotic dumbass sometimes, and please keep being the best thing that's ever happened to me"?

Answer: Apparently very hard.

I had ideas. I tried.

Stuffed animal? No. He doesn't collect that kind of thing and I'm pretty sure he'd give it a confused stare before gently placing it on his shelf forever out of pity.

Necklace? The one I wanted had this sleek custom engraving option and matching stones—super pretty—but of course, it costs more than my entire existence. I would've had to sell a kidney and my skateboard to afford it. So... nope.

Then I thought, aha! Manga box set!

One Punch Man, his fave. And then I remembered the man bought the entire thing for himself last week in Japanese and English. Flexed it during training too.

And that's the problem.

My boyfriend is rich.

Not just rich-rich. Like, rich and frugal and somehow also generous—but also really blunt.

Whatever I get him will probably look cheap, and even though he wouldn't say it out loud, I'd know. I'd see it.

The polite smile.

The awkward, "Oh... wow, tape dispenser earrings. That's... unique." Nah.

I'm screwed.

I slouched deeper into the mall bench, gnawing on the sad remains of my cinnamon pretzel, my brain going in circles.

Meanwhile, my phone's blowing up with texts from Mina and Kirishima. Notifications popping up like my guilt on steroids.

They're still mad.

Or... worried?

Probably both.

I know they were just trying to keep the peace, but everything blew up so fast, and now I'm sitting here emotionally constipated in public, trying to be chill when I very much am not.

Okay, real talk: did I go too far with Denki?

...Yeah. Probably.

But he went off first.

I mean, I love the guy—I really do. Denki's been my bro since day one, but I think he was way out of line. He acted like me dating Todoroki was some betrayal. Like I chose love over loyalty. Like I'm not allowed to be happy unless he's the one benefiting.

Which, what the hell?

I thought he'd be happy for me.

I thought... he of all people would support this. Me. Us.

But then I got to thinking—maybe it's not really about me. Maybe it's about him.

Denki's always had a flair for the dramatic, but this felt personal. And I get it, change is hard. Our dynamic shifted. Maybe he feels like I left him behind. But instead of talking about it, he lashed out.

And then brought up Roki. 

Mi vida.

Said things that were totally out of pocket. Like, who the hell brings up the Sports Festival from months ago like it proves something?

As if Todoroki hasn't changed. As if I haven't seen that change firsthand.

Hell no. Of course I snapped.

But maybe... maybe I snapped too hard. Maybe I shouldn't have done it in front of our friends. Mina looked like she wanted to throw herself off the second-floor balcony. Kiri was doing that anxious eyebrow thing he does when he wants to disappear.

It's just... when it comes to Todoroki, I can't stand anyone painting him like he's cold or unfeeling. Because he's not. He's careful. Thoughtful. Kind. Quiet in ways that say more than a shout ever could. And if Denki can't see that, then I don't want to hear his opinion.

Still... I wish I'd handled it better.

I wish everything wasn't so tense now. Half the class won't even look at me. Iida told me I was being "publicly inappropriate" for holding hands with Todoroki on school grounds.

Like we were breaking some kind of unspoken Midoriya Tragedy Treaty.

Look, I'm not trying to rub it in anyone's face. But I'm not going to pretend I'm not over the moon about dating someone who makes me feel wanted and seen.

Just because it makes him sad?

That's not fair.

I sighed, sinking further into my hoodie.

So yeah. No gift. No peace. Potentially lost a best friend. Entire class hates me.

This is going great.

Just when I was about to let my head hit the table dramatically, I heard it.

"Omg, girl, he did not just do that!"

"Yes, girl. He made me the cutest mixtape. He's so sweet!"

"Ugh, I'm so jealous!"

Two girls walked past, giggling loudly, practically glowing in their holiday shopping joy.

And normally I wouldn't give a damn.

But something about what they said hit me right in the chest.

A mixtape?

That's...

That's it.

I jumped out of my seat, nearly sending my half-eaten pretzel flying onto a nearby child.

"THAT'S IT!"

People stared. A toddler screamed. Someone dropped their smoothie.

I didn't care.

I grabbed my backpack, phone, and sprinted toward the mall exit like a man on a mission.

Because holy shit.

That's it.

That's the gift.

Not something you buy—not something flashy or expensive. Something personal. Something intentional.

A mixtape—but make it Sero-style.

Not just songs, either. Voice recordings. Soundbites. Dumb inside jokes. Roki's favorite anime soundtracks. Maybe even one of my old guitar recordings—God, I hope I can still find them on my hard drive.

It's gonna be dorky. It's gonna be chaotic. It's gonna be me.

But it'll be real.

From my heart. For his.

I just hope he loves it.

No. I know he will.

Because it's not about the price or the flash.

It's about how much I love him.

Even if I haven't said it yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

The mall was chaos.

Bright lights flickered off polished floors, Christmas music blasted from every corner speaker, and the scent of cinnamon, buttered popcorn, and teenage cologne clashed in the air. Kids shrieked with glee, parents barked last-minute orders over their shoulders, and a line that snaked halfway through the atrium led to an overwhelmed Santa Claus who looked one cookie away from retirement.

Yep. You gotta love the mall during the holidays.

Or—be like Todoroki and Tokoyami, who were both visibly dying inside.

"I'm exhausted," Tokoyami muttered darkly, slumping into the metal chair with all the weight of someone who'd just witnessed the heat death of the universe. His shopping bags hit the floor with a thud.

Todoroki simply nodded, expression blank as he slowly stirred the strawberry glaze on his shortcake with a tiny plastic fork. His posture said present, but his eyes said emotionally elsewhere.

Momo, on the other hand, looked radiant. Happy. Completely unaffected by the chaos swirling around them.

"Oh, come on, you two," she chirped brightly, biting into a slice of vanilla sponge cake with enough holiday cheer to power the mall's electricity grid. "Shopping wasn't that bad!"

Tokoyami scoffed, clearly offended. "I don't see the appeal. This place is a breeding ground for regret and capitalist despair. Sticky tables. Screaming toddlers. Panicked parents throwing elbows. And there's a grown man in a velvet suit being mobbed by children who have no concept of personal space."

"That grown man is Santa Claus," Momo puffed her cheeks with indignation. "You're supposed to get into the holiday spirit!"

Todoroki said nothing. He just kept poking at the corner of his cake like it had personally wronged him.

Tokoyami noticed first. "Todoroki?"

The boy looked up, eyes distant, slow to respond. "Yes?"

"You've barely touched your dessert," Momo said gently, concern softening her voice. "Are you okay?"

A pause.

Then Todoroki exhaled deeply, shoulders dipping as if the breath carried some of the weight on his chest.

"No," he admitted quietly.

Tokoyami straightened in his chair. Momo sat up too, her attention fully on him now.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Did you not find something you liked?"

Todoroki shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's... about Hanta."

At the mention of Sero's name, both Momo and Tokoyami exchanged a glance, the mood shifting instantly. Momo set her tea down carefully, eyes narrowing with gentle focus. Tokoyami folded his arms.

"What happened?" he asked, voice lower now, less sarcastic and more real.

Todoroki looked down at the fork still pressed into his shortcake.

"I found something out. About him. About... how I made him feel. And it's been eating at me."

He hesitated. But then he remembered what Midoriya had once told him—it's okay to say how you feel, even if it's messy. And what Sero had said—you don't have to figure everything out alone.

So, Todoroki opened up.

Quietly, haltingly, he told them everything.

He recounted what Bakugou had overheard in the hallway. The things Denki had said about him. The way Sero had defended him, even when Denki clearly thought Todoroki wasn't worthy. He told them about the sadness in Sero's voice when he'd admitted that Todoroki had unintentionally hurt him. About how Denki said Todoroki didn't even notice when Sero was at his lowest—right after the Sports Festival—and how Sero's feelings had clearly gone unnoticed for a long time.

And now, Todoroki was spiraling. Wondering what kind of person he was to miss all of that. Wondering how much of Sero's pain he'd unknowingly contributed to.

By the time he finished talking, his voice was barely above a whisper.

Momo and Tokoyami were still. Their faces unreadable.

"...I see," Momo finally said, sipping her tea slowly.

"So, you feel bad," Tokoyami asked simply, though there was a rare note of concern in his tone.

Todoroki nodded. "Yes. Very."

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, trying to look calm. But his foot was tapping anxiously under the table.

"I mean, Kaminari is not wrong. I didn't notice. Hanta was hurting, and I didn't even think to check in on him. I thought he was just... happy. He was always joking around and making everyone laugh. And now I find out he felt invisible, like no one saw how upset he was? That I didn't see it?"

He paused, jaw tight. "That makes me a bad friend. And maybe a worse boyfriend."

"Hold on," Momo said gently. "You weren't dating him at the time, right?"

"No."

"Then you're being too hard on yourself." Tokoyami finished.

Todoroki looked at him, confused.

"What Tokoyami and I are trying to say," Momo explained, "is that you can't punish yourself for not knowing something you had no way of knowing. You two weren't close back then. Of course you didn't see it. Sero didn't let anyone see it."

Tokoyami added, "We've all missed signs before. You're not a mind reader. And you've made an effort to understand him now, haven't you?"

"I guess," Todoroki muttered. "But I still feel like I should've noticed. Even as a friend."

Momo leaned forward, expression kind. "But you apologized. You've made things right. You care for him and is in a relationship now. That matters."

Todoroki stared down at his hands like they held some kind of answer—like if he looked hard enough, he'd find the moment he failed to be the person Sero needed. His fingers curled slowly, knuckles paling.

"He always notices when I'm upset," he whispered, voice barely audible over the holiday chaos around them. "He always knows. Even when I try to hide it, he just... sees through me."

His gaze remained fixed on his hands, as if afraid to look at his friends. "And he makes me feel... seen. Not just as a hero or Endeavor's son or a student at U.A. But me. Just... me. Even when I didn't know who I was."

He paused, chest rising with a shaky breath, and then pushed his plate away with finality—his untouched cake sliding to the edge of the table.

"But I didn't do the same for him," he continued, voice heavier now. "I didn't notice when he was hurting. I didn't see the signs. And he still says these kind things about me. Still holds me like I matter to him."

He swallowed, throat tightening. "Even though I let him down before we were even together."

Silence fell over their table, the distant carol music clashing with the weight between them. Todoroki leaned back in his chair like gravity had gotten stronger.

"And now," he said softly, "he's carrying the weight of everything—Kaminari being upset with him, Mina and Kirishima caught in the middle, half the class probably whispering about us, giving him side-eyes because of me. And he hasn't said anything about it."

He finally looked up, eyes dim and unfocused. "He just... carries it. Like it's nothing. Like he's fine. But what if he's not? What if I miss it again?"

Tokoyami let out a slow breath through his nose, setting his fork down gently. "You're overthinking," he said, his voice not sharp or dismissive, but soft, like someone gently trying to snap someone out of a storm.

Todoroki's expression faltered. His tone cracked.

"But what if I'm not?" he asked, almost desperate now. "What if he's hurting again and I'm too focused on trying to fix the past to even see it?"

He leaned his cheek into his palm, propped up by his elbow, brows furrowed so tightly they looked etched in stone.

Momo and Tokoyami exchanged a glance across the table. They knew this look. Todoroki wasn't just feeling guilty—he was spiraling. Down a familiar slope of trying to make logic out of emotion, trying to solve people like puzzles instead of giving them space to speak for themselves.

But his heart was in the right place. That was the hardest part about it.

Momo sighed softly, wishing—just for once—that Todoroki wouldn't be so hard on himself for being human.

'He cares too much', she thought. 'And he doesn't know what to do with it.'

Then, an idea hit her. Not a solution, necessarily—but maybe a distraction. Something to give him purpose. Something that might help him see that sometimes, love wasn't about fixing—it was about showing up.

She smiled behind her teacup, letting the warmth of the cup hide the flicker of inspiration in her eyes.

"Well," she said, voice light, "I think I know something that might help make this up to Sero."

Todoroki's head snapped up immediately. "Really?"

Even Tokoyami lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh yes," she said, tapping her cheek with a thoughtful finger. "Jirou mentioned to me that Hanta's been talking about some Spider-Man-themed addition for his hero costume."

Todoroki blinked. "Hanta does like Spider-Man."

"Obsessed, might be more accurate," Momo said with a small smile. "So maybe, if you got him something Spider-Man-related, something thoughtful that fits with his hero gear, it might show him how much you care."

She sipped her tea, then added, "Something just for him. Something that says you see him."

Tokoyami leaned back, arms crossed. "It's simple. Effective. A little ridiculous."

Todoroki sat frozen for a moment, lips parted slightly in thought. Then slowly, his eyes widened. Not just at the idea—but the possibility.

If he could find something perfect, something Hanta would love... maybe he wouldn't be upset anymore. Maybe the storm inside Todoroki would calm down. Maybe things would feel right again.

'He wouldn't be upset with me anymore.'

The thought echoed like a small flame catching in a cold room.

Momo and Tokoyami watched the change on his face—the shift from guilt to hope—and silently agreed it was better than the alternative. Even if the logic wasn't entirely sound, the intent was real.

Then, suddenly, Todoroki stood up so fast his chair squeaked loudly against the tile floor.

"I'll be back."

Momo startled, blinking up at him. "Wait—what?"

"I saw something," he said quickly, grabbing his shopping bags. "At this store Hanta took me to once. I didn't get it then, but I should've. I think it might still be there."

Tokoyami's face twisted in confusion. "Right now?"

"Yes," Todoroki replied, already half turned away. "If I don't get it now, it might be gone. And if I do get it—then maybe he won't be mad anymore."

Momo stood, alarmed. "Todoroki! We're supposed to go to the next store for everyone else's gifts!"

But he was already gone. A determined streak of red and white disappearing into the crowd.

She slumped back into her seat with a sigh, arms folded over her chest.

Tokoyami gave her a long, knowing look.

"What?" she said defensively.

"You do realize he takes things literally," he said flatly. "You basically handed him a quest. He was destined to act on it."

"I didn't think he'd sprint out of the food court like a man on a mission," she groaned.

Tokoyami lifted his coffee, taking a slow sip. "You say that, but I saw the glint in your eye."

She huffed, returning to her cake. "It was supposed to give him hope, not start a Spider-Man side quest."

Tokoyami smirked—just barely. "I say let him go. He needs to feel like he's doing something."

Momo glanced at the seat Todoroki left behind, still slightly warm from where he'd sat.

"I guess we'll wait here until he gets back," she said, stirring her tea.

Tokoyami nodded. "Agreed."

And with that, the two friends sat in companionable silence, letting the mall chaos buzz around them, quietly hoping their guilt-ridden friend would find what he was looking for—not just a gift, but a sense of peace.

Chapter 18: Oruguitas

Notes:

Seroroki is such a cute ship, like I'm so sorry, but it's TEW cute.

I need more fanfics of them, but y'all gotta read mine first!

Also, sorry if this turns out to be cringe, I apologize in advance!

Third Person POV:

"Man, Mr. Aizawa got us with that quiz!"

Kirishima let out a long, dramatic sigh as he collapsed deeper into Mina's pink beanbag, limbs splayed like he'd just run a marathon. His spiky red hair stuck out in every direction, more chaotic than usual after a full day of classes and drills. Even his unshakable energy was noticeably drained.

Beside him, Bakugou scoffed from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, chin tilted down like he was too superior to show fatigue. "You're just dumb," he muttered without his usual venom, though his eyes stayed glued to the screen of his phone.

The group had gathered in Mina's dorm room for one last hangout before winter break — a Class 1-A tradition at this point. Blankets were draped across every surface, snacks piled on her desk in precarious towers, and her string lights glowed golden against the walls, throwing soft shadows across their tired faces. The air smelled faintly of popcorn and Mina's overly sweet body spray.

And — unsurprisingly, if disappointingly — Denki wasn't there.

Again.

After the fallout from last week’s fight, the electric blond hadn't shown much interest in hanging out with the group. He came to class, sure, but his seat at hang out nights like this stayed empty. The absence hung in the room like a quiet ache no one wanted to admit out loud.

Todoroki sat quietly at the edge of Mina's bed, his posture calm, expression unreadable. He hadn't spoken much since arriving. But his eyes followed Sero, who was stretched out on the floor at his feet, long legs kicked out, gaze fixed on the ceiling like it might still have answers he missed on that cursed pop quiz.

"Yeah," Sero admitted with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guessed on that shit. Like... hard."

"Hanta," Todoroki said softly, his voice low, even — but with a warmth that only Sero seemed to pull from him.

Immediately, Sero sat up a little straighter, throwing his hands up with a grin. "Okay, okay! I studied. A little! It's the thought that counts, right?"

"You dumbasses," Bakugou cut in without looking up, his voice dripping with judgment. "That shit was easy."

The groans that followed were instant, unified.

"Not everyone's a genius like you, babe," Kirishima teased, throwing an arm dramatically around Bakugou's middle and resting his head on his shoulder.

Bakugou's eyes widened as his cheeks immediately flushed pink. "Shut up!" he barked, but he didn't push Kirishima away. If anything, his grip on his phone tightened to disguise the fact he wasn't moving.

Their laughter filled the room, easy and warm, bouncing off Mina's walls until suddenly—

"OH!"

Mina shot upright so fast she nearly knocked over a bowl of chips.

"WHAT the fuck, Raccoon Eyes?!" Bakugou jolted, dropping his phone into his lap.

"You guys!" Mina squealed, her grin wide enough to hurt. "We should totally have a Christmas party before we leave tomorrow!"

Kirishima blinked like he'd just witnessed a near-death experience. "Bro, you can't just scream like that. My heart..."

Sero chuckled. "I don't know, last time we threw a party, you guys nearly died when almost Aizawa caught on — and Kirishima had to hide from Bakugou for like, a week."

Bakugou shot Kirishima a deadly side-eye, to which the redhead only smiled nervously and shrugged. "Worth it."

Mina scoffed and crossed her arms. "Don't even act like that party didn't end in you getting a whole-ass boyfriend, Sero."

Sero blinked, surprised, as he felt his cheeks warm. He turned to look at Todoroki — who met his gaze and gave him the softest smile.

It wasn't the kind of smile you gave just anyone. It was small, a little shy, and full of something gentle and safe and real. The kind of smile that reached the eyes. The kind that said I see you.

Sero chuckled, rubbing at his cheek. "Well... maybe a party wouldn't be so bad."

But then he caught it — a flicker in Todoroki's expression. The smile faltered just slightly. His lashes lowered, his gaze dropped, and for a moment he seemed... far away. Like something heavy pressed against him that he couldn't quite name out loud.

Sero noticed. He always noticed. His brows drew together faintly, concern tickling at the back of his mind.

"We have to," Mina insisted, eyes glittering. "We won't see each other for two weeks, and that's like, five years in best-friend time."

Kirishima grinned. "I'm in."

Bakugou muttered, "Losers," but everyone ignored him.

Sero scratched the back of his neck. "Actually... me and mi vida have a date tonight." His voice softened, careful, like he didn't want to disappoint his friends but wasn't about to cancel on Todoroki either.

"We should get going, Hanta," Todoroki said quietly as he stood. "Before it gets too late."

Sero nodded and stood with him, brushing some lint off his jeans. His heart was beating a little faster than normal — not full-blown anxiety, but that fizzy kind of anticipation that made his fingers twitch. Their hands brushed briefly as they moved in sync — and Todoroki didn't flinch. Didn't pull away.

That tiny gesture sent a subtle warmth creeping up Sero's neck.

"Aww, what?!" Mina groaned dramatically, flopping backward across her bed with a pout. "You're leaving already?"

Sero laughed, nudging her with his foot as he walked by. "Mina, you're acting like we live across the country. I'm literally a ten-minute train ride away."

He turned toward Todoroki, noticing his boyfriend was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket — unnecessarily, really. Without even thinking, Sero reached out to fix it for him. His fingers brushed the collar, gently smoothing it down. Then, without breaking eye contact, his hand lightly brushed the nape of Todoroki's neck.

Todoroki froze — just for a second. His lashes fluttered. Then he relaxed.

Their eyes locked.

For a heartbeat, the rest of the room faded. There was something in Todoroki's expression — like he wanted to speak, to say something real, something heavy — but didn't quite know how to shape it into words.

That was okay. Sero was used to reading between the lines with him.

Then—

"Oh! Right!" Mina clapped her hands, practically bouncing on the mattress. "Your mom still makes the best food, by the way! I'm inviting myself over."

Her voice shattered the fragile quiet like a pebble dropped into still water. The energy in the room instantly shifted, bright and buzzing again.

Sero grinned, leaning back on his palms. "Honestly? She'd be mad if I didn't bring friends. You know how she gets."

It was the truth. His mom wasn't just good at cooking — she was a force of nature in the kitchen, a whirlwind of spices and warmth and laughter. The last time he'd brought his classmates over, she'd sworn she'd only make "a few snacks." 

Two hours later, the living room table had groaned under mountains of food: empanadas, machaca, arroz rojo, bowls of salsa that left even Bakugou fanning his mouth. They'd sprawled across the tatami with stuffed bellies, watching cheesy rom-coms while his younger sisters critiqued the acting like professionals.

Sero's mom had tutted over their "malnourished hero diets," kissed Kirishima's forehead like he was another son, and his older sister scolded Mina for not moisturizing enough before massaging conditioner into her curls. When the night wound down, his mom tucked blankets around them one by one, like they weren't just his friends but hers too.

It wasn't just food. It was home.

"Oh! Bro, can I come too?" Kirishima piped up from the beanbag, sitting up a little straighter. "Your brother made that—uh—what was it called again?"

"Machaca," Sero replied, chest puffing a little with pride. "And yeah, of course. I'll tell them."

"YES," Mina cheered, pumping a fist. "And I need your sister's shampoo magic again. My curls still haven't forgiven me for training camp."

Sero laughed, fingers brushing through his own hair. "She's coming back this week. I'll let her know you're lining up appointments."

Before he could say more, Mina bounced up and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him with the kind of sudden affection only she could get away with.

"I love your family," she declared, cheek smushed against his shoulder, voice muffled but bright.

Sero chuckled, arms circling her back in return. "They love you too, you maniac."

The grin on his face lingered, wide and warm, when—

"Hanta."

Just his name. Quiet. Barely louder than the hum of the string lights, yet it cut through the noise sharper than any shout.

Sero's head snapped up.

Todoroki stood at the door now, one hand loosely gripping the knob. His expression was neutral, his posture calm, but Sero knew better. His usual mask of detachment wasn't cold — it was armor. And Sero had learned to see the cracks.

The faint tension in his jaw. The stillness in his shoulders that wasn't natural, wasn't comfortable. The kind of quiet that wasn't peace but retreat.

"I'll be downstairs," Todoroki said softly.

And just like that, he was gone.

The door closed with a gentle click, but the sound echoed through the room like a full stop at the end of a sentence no one had written.

Silence followed — stretched thin and uneasy, like a breath caught in too-small lungs.

Even Bakugou, who hadn't looked up from his phone all night, glanced toward the door, his brow knitting faintly in confusion.

"Uhh..." Mina finally pulled back from Sero, her arms falling awkwardly to her sides. Her bright energy dimmed into something smaller, sheepish. "That was... kinda weird, right?"

Sero swallowed, still staring at the door like he could will it back open. "...Yeah," he murmured at last. His voice was quieter, softer, edged with something unsettled. "I know. I should go."

Mina recovered quickly, her eyes sparkling with the kind of determination that could bulldoze through any awkward silence. She planted herself in front of Sero like a general rallying her troops. "You got this," she said firmly, though her voice was warm. "He's gonna love your gift. Seriously."

Kirishima shot up two enthusiastic thumbs from across the room, grin wide and supportive. "Yeah, man. It's super manly. He'll be into it for sure."

Sero's lips curved, but the smile wasn't his usual easy, lopsided grin. This one was softer, tucked in at the edges — the kind of smile that came with nerves he couldn't laugh off. Beneath it sat a flicker of vulnerability, that rare, unguarded version of himself his friends only caught when the stakes felt too high to joke about.

"Thanks," he said quietly. He meant it more than he usually let on. "For helping me. I mean it."

Mina practically vibrated with delight, swaying side to side like she couldn't contain herself. "No problem! You two are my favorite couple. Like, actual relationship goals!"

"You helped me get ready for Katsuki's dinner with his parents," Kirishima chimed in, throwing his boyfriend a fond grin. "So really, we owe you, bro."

Sero opened his mouth — probably to toss back some sarcastic deflection — but before he could, a low voice cut through the room.

Still staring down at his phone, Bakugou grumbled, "Go on your stupid date already, Tape-Face."

The words were so flat, so typically Bakugou, that for a beat, Sero just blinked. Then he burst into laughter, loud and easy this time, shaking his head. "You're right, Bakubro. See ya!"

With a quick wave, he grabbed his scarf, tossing it around his neck in one smooth motion. His fingers twitched against the fabric as he adjusted it, nerves sparking sharp and restless under his skin. He inhaled once, deep, like he could pack all his courage into his lungs. Then he stepped out the door, heart thrumming in his chest, equal parts dread and giddy anticipation.

The room exhaled without him.

Mina immediately flopped backward onto her pillow, clutching it to her chest as though it were a plushie. "They're so cute," she whispered dreamily. "Like disgustingly adorable. I'm obsessed."

Kirishima puffed out his chest, feigning a wounded look. "Hey! What about me and Bakugou? We're adorable too."

Mina peeked at him from over the pillow, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now, Kiri-hun..." she propped her chin on her hands, lips quirking into a grin, "you guys are a very close second."

Kirishima gasped theatrically, crossing his arms in exaggerated offense. "Betrayal."

But before he could continue the bit—

Tsk.

Both of them froze.

Bakugou, still lounging against the couch, finally lifted his gaze from his phone. His crimson eyes locked onto Mina, sharp and cutting. "As if I care about your opinion, Raccoon Eyes."

Mina gasped, clutching her chest with mock horror. "Why, I never—!" She flopped back dramatically as though she'd been mortally wounded.

"And also," Bakugou said flatly, tone casual but eyes razor-sharp, "you better chill with the touchy shit around Tape-Face."

That stopped the room cold.

Mina sat back up slowly, confusion flickering across her face. "What?"

Bakugou's gaze swept between her and Kirishima with the air of a teacher exhausted by idiots. "Do I need to explain everything?"

"Little context might help, babe," Kirishima said gently, lifting his hands in a peacekeeping gesture as he leaned closer to him.

Bakugou groaned like it pained him to exist in the same room. "None of you noticed? Icy-Hot was looking at Raccoon Eyes like he wanted to murder her. That's why he left. He couldn't handle watching her hang off his man."

Mina blinked, her lips parting. "Wait—Todoroki? Really? He didn't look upset to me..."

Bakugou scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause you weren't paying attention. That's exactly why he bailed."

Kirishima tilted his head. "Really?"

"Duh," Bakugou snapped. "He's one of those types."

Kirishima arched a brow. "Uh... babe. You're one of those types."

Bakugou opened his mouth, then closed it, scowling.

But Mina shot to her feet, eyes wide with dawning horror. "Oh my gosh. He's so right!"

"Thank you!" Bakugou barked, throwing his hands out as if to say finally, someone with a brain.

"I didn't mean to upset Shotobaby!" Mina wailed, dropping to her knees like the floor had collapsed under her. "I was just being affectionate!"

"Yeah, right," Bakugou muttered, though the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Kat, quit it," Kirishima nudged him gently with his elbow, though his tone was fond.

Bakugou rolled his eyes and turned back to his phone, muttering under his breath.

Kirishima turned toward Mina, trying for reassurance. "Hey, he's probably not mad. Maybe just overwhelmed—"

But Mina was already back on her feet, fists clenched, fire in her eyes. "I need to prove to Shotobaby I have no interest in Sero!"

Kirishima's jaw dropped. "Mina—"

She spun toward Kirishima before he could stop her and smiled at Bakugou. "And don't worry, Bakubabe — me and Kiri don't have feelings for each other anymore, so you can relax."

The room froze.

Kirishima's soul left his body as he slowly, very slowly, turned toward his boyfriend. Bakugou's crimson eyes were locked onto him now, expression flat and deadly, like he'd just been handed undeniable evidence of betrayal.

"...What?" Bakugou said in a tone that could melt steel.

"I just love you guys so much," Mina blurted, already halfway to the door, hands flapping. "I really need to manage my hugs! Okay, bye! Kiri, lock up!"

The door slammed shut behind her.

Silence.

Kirishima sat frozen, sweat beading at his temple. Then, with all the care of a man defusing a bomb, he turned toward Bakugou.

His boyfriend's crimson eyes were still on him. Piercing. Sharp enough to cut him clean in two.

Kirishima gulped audibly. "S-So... wanna, uh... practice for your d-dinner?"

Bakugou didn't answer. Didn't move.

Just stared.

Kirishima laughed nervously, praying for divine intervention. Regretting everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Welcome to Mei's Café!"

The barista's voice rang out like a cheerful bell itself, light and welcoming. The real bell above the door chimed in tandem as they stepped inside, ushering them into a cocoon of warmth. The air smelled faintly of lavender and roasted coffee beans — soothing, sweet, and just sharp enough to clear the mind. It wrapped around them like a scarf fresh from the dryer, comforting in a way that felt immediate and grounding.

Sero grinned and gave the barista a little wave, casual and kind, the same way he greeted nearly everyone. Todoroki, more reserved, inclined his head in a polite nod, though his eyes roamed curiously, quietly cataloging.

From the street, the place had seemed ordinary — an unassuming maroon sign with "Mei's Café" painted in looping white script, tucked neatly against a quiet corner. But inside, it unfolded into something more deliberate. The walls were painted in warm cream and dusky brown, colors chosen less for trend and more for comfort. A few leafy vines dangled lazily from hanging planters. Edison bulbs glowed low and golden, casting everything in a candlelight haze that softened edges and hushed the space.

In the corner, an old record player spun a low, scratchy jazz instrumental, and Todoroki found himself listening to the soft brush of drums against the occasional clink of ceramic cups. Every sound was gentle. Human.

He realized, with something like surprise, that he found it comforting.
Peaceful.
The kind of place you came to not just for caffeine, but for relief — to feel like yourself again after carrying too much weight.

They slid into a booth near the window, where light spilled across the table in long, amber stripes. Dust motes drifted lazily in the sunbeam, glittering like sparks frozen midair. Todoroki let his gaze linger on them until—

"How do you like this place, mi vida?"

Sero's voice tugged him back. Todoroki blinked, then shifted his gaze across the table. His boyfriend was watching him with that open, disarming expression — the one that always made Todoroki feel seen in a way that went deeper than surface-level. Known. Safe.

He hesitated for half a breath, heart tugging uncomfortably in his chest, before his lips curved into a rare, quiet smile. "It's comforting."

Relief washed over Sero like sunlight breaking through clouds. His shoulders eased, his grin widening, boyish and proud. "Good. I wasn't sure if you'd like it — since you've never been here before, right?"

Todoroki gave a small nod. "That is correct."

Sero leaned back, casual as ever, though there was a subtle energy buzzing under his movements — anticipation, maybe. He propped his guitar case against the booth, earning a faintly curious glance from Todoroki, and set a small-sized, neatly wrapped box on the table beside Todoroki's own slightly larger gift.

Todoroki's brows knit briefly. The guitar was unexpected. Perhaps part of the surprise. He didn't ask, not yet.

"So, mi vida," Sero said lightly, flipping the café menu open, "since winter break starts tomorrow and I don't have plans, you wanna hang out again tomorrow night? We could catch a movie or something."

Todoroki blinked, almost caught off guard. His head tilted, puzzled. "You want to hang out with me again tomorrow?"

Sero lowered the menu, blinking back. "Of course, mi vida. Why wouldn't I?"

The endearment brushed against Todoroki's ears like heat, painting them pink. He looked away, jaw tightening with a faint, almost imperceptible frown. "I just thought..." He shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe you'd be tired of me."

Sero's smile faltered, the easy humor draining as his brows pinched.

"Why would you think that?"

Todoroki realized his mistake immediately — speaking out loud what he usually kept neatly folded inside. He lowered his menu, his gaze dropping to the table instead of meeting Sero's eyes. "I'm sorry. It's nothing. Forget I said—"

"Shoto."

Sero's voice wasn't sharp. It wasn't scolding. Just steady, firm enough to anchor him in place.

Todoroki stilled when warm fingers slipped gently into his own. He glanced down, finding their hands linked across the table, Sero's thumb brushing lazy circles over his skin like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Why would you think I'd ever get tired of you?" Sero asked again, softer now, his brown eyes holding a tenderness Todoroki still wasn't used to.

Todoroki's throat tightened. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, meeting that unwavering warmth.

"I don't know," he admitted, voice barely more than breath. "You were so excited to spend time with everyone earlier. I just thought... maybe you'd want a break from being around me. I didn't want to be... too much."

He fidgeted with Sero's fingers without realizing it, twisting slightly, unsure where to place his vulnerability now that it had spilled onto the table. "I guess I thought I'd overwhelm you."

For a long moment, Sero only looked at him. His expression was unreadable — too gentle to be teasing, too intense to be casual. Then he raised their joined hands, slow and deliberate, and pressed a kiss to the back of Todoroki's hand.

Todoroki's breath hitched, heat rushing to his face.

"You could never be too much," Sero murmured, lips brushing against his skin. "Not for me."

Another kiss, softer, to his knuckles.

"I love spending time with you, mi vida. That's why I asked." His smile returned, tender and sure. "You calm me down. Being around you feels like..." He tilted his head, searching, eyes flicking upward as if the words were waiting in the air. "It feels like breathing fresh air after holding my breath all day."

Under the table, a tiny spark of flame bloomed along Todoroki's left side, betraying him. His eyes widened faintly — but Sero's only reaction was to smile wider, utterly enchanted, as though it was proof of exactly what he'd just said.

He leaned forward, kissing Todoroki's hand again, slower this time. "You're amazing, mi vida. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do."

Todoroki opened his mouth, but no words came. His chest ached with warmth that felt almost unbearable, his heartbeat heavy in his ribs. He turned his face toward the window, overwhelmed, trying to gather himself.

But he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from tugging upward. Couldn't stop the small, almost shy glance he flicked back at Sero.

He liked this.
He really liked this.

This feeling. This warmth. This soft, steady knowing that Sero offered him so freely, as if it cost him nothing at all.

Sero chuckled, thumb still brushing over Todoroki's hand. "Okay, mi vida — I'm gonna go order. Want green tea and strawberry cake?"

Todoroki gave the smallest nod, his cheeks still stained red.

Sero's grin widened, boyish and radiant, before he finally rose from the booth. He didn't release Todoroki's hand until the very last moment, as though reluctant to sever the tether between them. "Alright. I'll be back — then we can open our gifts, yeah?"

Another nod.

But before he turned away, Sero bent down in one swift, mischievous move and pressed a quick kiss to Todoroki's cheek.

Todoroki went rigid, a shock running down his spine like he'd been jolted with live wire. His face flushed scarlet in an instant. His hand shot up reflexively, covering the spot like a shield, as though hiding the red would somehow make it less obvious.

Sero giggled, the sound warm and delighted. "Ay, Dios mío... you're too cute."

And before Todoroki could think of a single response, Sero leaned in once more and kissed the crown of his head, slow and fond, before strolling toward the counter.

That left Todoroki alone, melting into his seat beneath the dim café light, heart racing as he tried — and failed — to calm the storm of heat rolling through his chest. He had faced villains stronger than steel, survived hellish training and near-death battles... and yet one kiss from Hanta reduced him to this — a puddle of quiet, unsteady affection.

Without thinking, he summoned a thin sheen of ice across his palm and pressed it against his overheated skin. The cooling sensation made him shiver, but it steadied him. It was absurd, really. That Sero could fluster him this badly.

Not in a bad way.

Just... in a way he wasn't used to.

This softness was foreign. Foreign, but not unwelcome.

He inhaled slowly, letting the lavender-laced air ground him. He needed to adjust to this — to the simple fact of being cared for in small, unpredictable ways. Because Sero was steady like a flame — bright, patient, and impossibly warm. The kind of warmth that didn't burn, but melted. And Todoroki was starting to realize he didn't mind being melted, piece by piece.

He glanced around the café as he steadied his breath. Couples leaning close, laughter spilling into half-hidden smiles. Friends nudging shoulders together, sharing bites across plates. All around him was quiet joy, subtle and unpretentious — the kind you only noticed when you allowed yourself to look.

His gaze drifted down to the box sitting in front of him. His fingers brushed across the wrapping paper he had chosen so carefully, smoothing invisible creases.

"I hope he likes it," he muttered under his breath.

"Of course I will."

The voice startled him. He looked up sharply to see Sero balancing a tray — two steaming drinks and two plates, the sweet scent of strawberry shortcake wafting toward him.

Todoroki blinked, startled into motion, and reached forward instinctively. Their hands brushed as he helped steady the tray, and Sero's smile softened at the small contact.

"How did you know I was talking about your gift?" Todoroki asked, his tone more bewildered than accusatory.

Sero chuckled, sliding his tea and plate across the table. "Mi vida, you're kinda easy to read."

Todoroki stilled, processing, before letting out a tiny, almost embarrassed "oh." He wrapped his fingers around the warm teacup, inhaling the fragrant steam to cover the heat still clinging to his cheeks.

"So," Sero leaned forward on his elbows, grinning with anticipation, "do you wanna eat first or gifts first?"

Todoroki's eyes dropped to the carefully wrapped box again. His hands tightened briefly around the cup before he answered with quiet certainty, "I would like to do gifts first, if you don't mind."

Sero's grin flickered, almost imperceptibly. His eyes softened, just a touch nervous now. "S-Sure... um, do you want to go first?"

Todoroki tilted his head faintly, noting the dip in his boyfriend's posture. But instead of asking, he gently pushed his gift forward, nudging the box across the polished wood.

Sero blinked, surprised by the gesture, and gave a quiet, "Thanks," before carefully peeling away the paper.

Todoroki tried to keep his face composed, but the tiniest betrayals gave him away: the restless fidget of his fingers in his lap, the faint crease between his brows.

"I hope you like it," he said, the words rushing out too quickly. "Momo and Tokoyami helped me with this, and I know you like Spider-Man, and I noticed you wanted to change your uniform, and I—"

"Holy shit."

The words froze Todoroki mid-sentence. His chest seized when he saw Sero's face — wide-eyed, slack-jawed, no smile.

Panic surged.

"I-I know it's odd," he pressed on, desperation bleeding through his voice, "but you said you wanted to change your hero costume and I... I hope you like it."

His throat felt tight, his voice dropping to a whisper. He hated how raw he sounded, how uncertain. He had chosen this gift so carefully, with so much intention, because he wanted it to mean something. He wanted Hanta to know how much he mattered.

And just when his heart braced for disappointment—

"Shoto, this is..."

He held his breath.

"...Amazing!"

Todoroki blinked.

Sero was suddenly alight, beaming so brightly it was blinding. "Holy shit, man — this is super awesome!" He bounced in his seat, holding up the custom-designed hero costume folded neatly in the box like it was a rare treasure.

Relief swept through Todoroki in a rush. His shoulders eased, his chest loosening at last.

Sero's grin widened, his voice brimming with awe. "Mi vida, how did you get this?"

Todoroki straightened, flustered but trying to sound composed. "I saw something similar in a store, but someone else grabbed it before I could. I was going to get you another manga volume, but then Momo offered to help... so we designed this together, and..." He trailed off, pink blooming across his cheeks.

Sero set the gift aside with careful hands, then leaned forward abruptly, cupping Todoroki's face in both palms.

"Oh, mi vida... you're too precious to me."

And before Todoroki could react, Sero rained soft kisses across his skin.

Left cheek.
Right cheek.
Back again.
Then a lingering kiss to the tip of his nose, playful and tender.

Todoroki gasped quietly, his eyes widening. But he didn't freeze. He didn't shove away. He didn't even think about putting up walls of fire or ice.

He let it happen.

The first time Sero had tried something like this, he'd panicked so badly he triggered the sprinklers at an arcade. But now... now he wanted it. He wanted the touches, the kisses, the affection that felt as overwhelming as it did safe.

Yes, his blush burned crimson across his cheeks, but this wasn't fear. It was warmth. It was want.

When Sero finally drew back, the faint glow of flame flickered from the red strands of Todoroki's hair. Sparks shimmered, harmless but bright.

Sero's eyes widened. "Oh crap — sorry! I forgot—"

But Todoroki simply leaned into his hands, resting his cheek against the warm palms. His eyelids fluttered, half-closed in quiet contentment.

"It's okay," he murmured, voice softer than he meant it to be.

And for the first time in his life, he meant it.

Sero's chest ached in the best way possible. His heart felt too full, like it couldn't possibly hold everything he felt for this boy. He leaned down again, pressing one more kiss to the crown of Todoroki's head. This one lingered, warm and steady, as if he could silently pour the words I love you straight into Shoto's skin. Only after a long moment did he finally pull back, though his fingers brushed over Todoroki's shoulder as he moved away, reluctant to break the contact entirely.

"I love this," he said, his voice sincere and a little breathless, eyes flicking back to the carefully folded costume design as if it might vanish if he blinked too long. "I've been wanting to upgrade my hero costume for so long. You seriously outdid yourself, mi vida."

Across from him, Todoroki's hand drifted up to his cheek, fingertips brushing the spot where Sero's lips had just been. He held it there, like he could still feel the echo of that warmth. A small smile tugged at his lips—shy, tentative, but real.

"I... I'm glad."

Sero's grin widened, impossibly brighter than before. Todoroki ducked his gaze, clearing his throat as if that could disguise the pink glow that had bloomed across his cheeks, soft and warm beneath the café's golden light.

"I-I believe it's your turn now," Todoroki mumbled, voice faintly rough as he tried to gather his composure. "To give me your gift, I mean."

Sero let out a quiet laugh, half fondness, half nerves. It wasn't often he felt nervous—he could throw himself into battle without hesitation, joke his way out of most situations—but when it came to this boy, his chest fluttered with an anxious, vulnerable energy. Todoroki had a way of undoing him without even trying.

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "About that..."

Todoroki glanced up, head tilting in curiosity. "What is it?"

"Well..." Sero dragged the word out, his grin turning sheepish, but mischievous at the edges. "I know we said just one gift, but..."

"Hanta," Todoroki cut in with a small frown, his voice quiet but carrying all the weight of disapproval he could muster.

"I know, I know," Sero said quickly, holding both hands up in surrender, his laughter soft and unrepentant. "I broke the rules. But in my defense—one of them is technically both of ours. Kind of."

Todoroki's pout softened just slightly. "What does that even mean?"

Instead of answering, Sero leaned forward, sliding a smaller box across the table. His fingers brushed against Todoroki's knuckles in a subtle caress as he whispered, "Merry Christmas, mi vida."

Todoroki blinked down at it, taking the gift with careful hands. He unwrapped it slowly, almost reverently, as if peeling back paper from something sacred. A sleek black box appeared beneath the folds. He lifted the lid—

—and froze.

Inside were two delicate beaded bracelets. One shimmered in warm shades of yellow and white, the beads catching and refracting the café lights like sunlight through crystal. The other mirrored the design, but in red and white—playful, peppermint colors.

"I hope you like them," Sero said softly, his voice barely above the hum of the café. His gaze stayed fixed on Todoroki, open and unguarded, brimming with adoration.

Todoroki's breath hitched. His fingers trembled faintly as he lifted the yellow-and-white bracelet. It sparkled against his pale skin, light dancing across its surface. He stared at it like he couldn't quite believe it was real.

"I... I've never had anything like this," he whispered, almost as if the words themselves were fragile. "They're beautiful."

"I spent forever trying to find beads in just the right colors," Sero admitted with a sheepish chuckle. "Had to elbow past this one grandma who was hoarding all the white ones."

Todoroki didn't laugh, though his lips curved faintly as he studied the bracelet. His eyes softened, voice barely audible. "The yellow and white... they remind me of you."

He looked up slowly, gaze steady, gentle. "Bright. Warm. Kind."

The words hit Sero like a wave. His breath caught, chest tightening almost painfully. He blinked rapidly, torn between laughing it off or crying outright.

"...And the red and white," he said quickly, teasing to ground himself, "those are my peppermint boyfriend colors."

"Peppermint?" Todoroki echoed, his brow furrowing in faint confusion.

Sero smirked, eyes gleaming. "Your hair, babe."

Todoroki blinked once, then flushed. "...Oh."

With delicate care, he picked up the red-and-white bracelet, holding it between both hands as though it were priceless. Then, without hesitation, he reached across the table, took Sero's wrist gently, and slid the bracelet onto it. His fingers lingered, adjusting it, smoothing it into place as though ensuring it fit perfectly.

"There," he murmured. His voice was soft, but steady. "Now I have one that reminds me of you. And you have one that reminds you of me. So... even if we're not together, we kind of still are."

Sero's heart clenched, so full it was almost unbearable. His throat tightened; he wanted to laugh, to cry, to pull Todoroki across the table and kiss him until neither of them could breathe.

'Oh my god,' he thought, dizzy with the force of it. 'I want to marry this boy. I want to spend the rest of my life making him smile like that.'

But all that came out was a reverent whisper, low and trembling: "You're unbelievable."

Todoroki ducked his head, his blush deepening, but his smile—small, real, rare—spread across his face like a sunrise. It wasn't forced, or careful, or guarded. It was soft, blooming, and genuine. The kind of smile Sero would have fought entire armies to protect.

It made him want to kiss him again. And again. And again.

Instead, Sero lifted their entwined hands, pressing a feather-light kiss to Todoroki's knuckles before lowering them back onto the table. Their fingers stayed loosely laced together, comfortable, unshaken, as natural as breathing.

"I love them," Todoroki whispered, his voice quiet and reverent, as though the words themselves were sacred. "Thank you."

Sero's eyes softened impossibly, the corners crinkling as if he were holding back something too tender to fully put into words. "I'm glad," he murmured, voice low and sincere. "And... I hope you like your second gift, too."

Todoroki blinked, surprise flickering across his usually calm face. "There's more?"

The tan boy gave a little hum as he carefully slipped his fingers from Todoroki's hand, lingering just a moment longer than necessary before reaching behind his seat. "One more," he promised, voice carrying a mix of nerves and excitement. "I swear this one's special."

Todoroki straightened unconsciously, posture more alert, curiosity sparking in his mismatched eyes. His attention sharpened as Sero pulled something out: a guitar. Not flashy, not new—its wood bore the faint scuffs of years and the sheen of hands that had loved it well. The strap was slightly frayed, the finish dulled, but in Sero's hands, it looked like treasure.

"I, uh..." Sero rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, sheepish. "I don't usually do this in public." He adjusted the strap, settling the guitar on his lap with practiced ease that betrayed just how much time he spent with it. "But... I kinda planned something."

Todoroki tilted his head ever so slightly, a small crease forming between his brows. The gesture wasn't suspicion—it was wonder, quiet and focused. His lips parted, as though already halfway to a question. "What kind of something?"

For a heartbeat, Sero didn't answer. He just looked. Really looked. 

And across from him, under the golden fairy lights and the hush of the half-empty café, Todoroki looked almost unreal. The slight furrow in his brow, the gentle confusion softening his expression, the way his eyes—blue and grey—seemed to drink in everything without judgment. Precious, Sero thought. Absolutely precious.

'Heavenly,' he realized, warmth swelling in his chest. 'Like something you'd stumble across in the middle of a dream and fight like hell not to wake up from.'

He strummed idly, the chords warm and familiar beneath his fingers. "So, mi vida," he began, his smile tugging at his lips, equal parts nervous and fond, "I know we've only been going out for almost a month—"

"Three weeks and three days," Todoroki interrupted softly, with the same steady certainty he used in battle.

The words hit Sero like sunlight breaking through clouds. He chuckled, cheeks flushing pink. "Yeah... three weeks and three days. Every second of it's been..." His voice trailed, caught on a lump in his throat before he pushed through. "Every moment I've spent with you—whether we're reading manga, stuck on homework, you getting me to do my homework, or just sitting around breathing the same air—it's been the happiest I've ever been."

Something flickered across Todoroki's face—an almost imperceptible shift, but Sero caught it. The faint pink brushing the tops of his cheeks, the tips of his ears warming. It wasn't embarrassment. It was something gentler, rarer.

Sero's voice dipped, lower now, intimate. "But if I had to pick one memory—the one that stuck with me most—it'd be that night when we danced." He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You stepped on my foot like... four times."

Todoroki's cheeks puffed just slightly, like he was suppressing a laugh. "I apologized."

"I know," Sero grinned. "I loved it anyway."

Their laughter lingered for a moment, fragile and bright, before softening into something heavier, weightier. The air between them grew still, almost reverent. Sero's eyes grew earnest, every trace of his easy grin fading into sincerity.

"I wanted to do something... something to show you how much I care about you. So, I found this." He lifted the guitar slightly, then smiled nervously, lips twitching at the edges. "I, uh... might butcher it. But it's for you."

Todoroki's brows knit together, his voice quiet, curious. "You wrote me a song?"

Sero scratched the back of his neck, suddenly bashful. "Kind of. Not exactly. It's a cover... but the words just fit. They felt right for us."

Todoroki glanced briefly around the café, taking in the dim golden lights strung overhead, the gentle hum of the air vents, the fact that—aside from the staff tucked behind the counter—it really was just the two of them. His gaze came back to Sero, sharper now, a flicker of realization in his expression.

"You had Kendo help clear the café?"

Caught, Sero winced playfully. "Guilty. I just... wanted privacy. And also," he muttered, adjusting the strap again, "didn't want anyone to hear if my voice cracked."

"I like your voice," Todoroki said.

The words were delivered with no hesitation, no buildup—just absolute certainty, as natural as if he were announcing the time of day.

Sero blinked, thrown. "...You do?"

"I've heard you sing before," Todoroki continued, tilting his head slightly, calm as ever. "When you hum whenever you do your homework. Or when you're cooking. It's nice."

For a moment, Sero could only stare. He felt the heat crawl up his neck, blooming red across his ears. "A-Anyway..." He cleared his throat hard, shaking his head as if to steady himself. "No pressure, right?"

His hands found the strings again, this time with deliberate focus. He inhaled deeply, grounding himself, then plucked the opening notes of the melody. The sound unfurled soft and delicate, like a lullaby, instantly wrapping the room in something gentle, safe.

Almost immediately, Todoroki's body seemed to loosen, as if every tight thread in his frame was unspooling all at once. His elbows came to rest on the table, palms cupping his face. He leaned forward, eyes locked on Sero, utterly unguarded.

And then, Sero began to sing.

His voice carried, quiet but sure, warm and achingly sweet:

"Two oruguitas in love and yearning
Spend every evening and morning learning
To hold each other, their hunger burning
To navigate a world that turns, and never stops turning
Together in this world that turns, and never stops turning..."

The song spilled into the café like water filling a glass—gentle, inevitable, seeping into every hidden corner until even the silence seemed to breathe with it.

Todoroki's eyes widened, his lips parting just slightly. Sero's voice—low, trembling in places but steady at its core—wrapped around him like warmth on a winter morning. Every note carried something raw, vulnerable, and achingly sincere.

And Sero, catching that look in Todoroki's eyes—open, luminous, unguarded—felt his chest tighten painfully, the kind of ache that wasn't suffering but something deeper. Like a thread wound tight around his ribs, tugging with every beat.

Todoroki leaned forward, elbows pressing into the table, his chin now resting on his hands. His expression softened into something unshielded, so rare it almost felt like a secret. If anyone else had glanced their way, they would have seen it too: the faint glow in his eyes, quiet but radiant.

It wasn't awe. It wasn't surprise.

It was joy. Pure, glowing joy.

"Two oruguitas against the weather
The wind grows colder but they're together
They hold each other, no way of knowing
They're all they have for shelter and something inside them is growing
They long to stay together but something inside them is growing..."

Sero's voice wavered once but never faltered. His fingers carried the melody with a steady tenderness, every strum deliberate. When he dared to glance up, Todoroki's gaze caught him—steady, intent, almost reverent. And something in Sero broke open in the best possible way, the ache deepening into something fierce and whole.

When the music swelled, Sero stood, the guitar moving with him as though it were part of his body. He circled Todoroki's seat slowly, voice growing more confident with every line, the words lifting him like wind beneath wings.

Todoroki shifted in his chair to follow him, mismatched eyes tracking his every step. The look on his face was almost otherworldly—a stunned awe, as though he were watching the constellations shift into a new shape just for him.

Sero grinned, letting a flash of playfulness slip through the nerves. He winked, misjudged his step, and nearly tripped over a chair leg.

Todoroki's lips twitched before the quietest huff of laughter escaped—short, soft, but real. The sound made Sero's heart stumble more than the chair leg ever could.

"Ay, oruguitas, don't you hold on too tight
Both of you know it's your time to grow
To fall apart, to reunite
Wonders await you just on the other side
Trust they'll be there and start to prepare
The way for tomorrow~"

The next verse came softer, slower. Like something fragile being laid carefully into the world.

"Ay, mariposas, don't you hold on too tight
Both of you know it's your time to go
To fly apart, to reunite
Wonders surround you, just let the walls come down
Don't look behind you, fly till you find
Your way toward tomorrow..."

The final chord lingered in the air, thrumming against Sero's chest like a heartbeat finally spoken aloud. He stood frozen in the quiet that followed, clutching the guitar against himself, cheeks flushed pink, breath coming fast. It felt like baring his soul with no shield to hide behind.

And then—

Applause.

Both boys jerked like startled deer.

Behind the counter, the café staff erupted into clapping, Kendo leading the charge with unrestrained enthusiasm. Some clapped dramatically over their heads, others squealed into their hands like they'd just witnessed the climax of a romance drama.

"THAT WAS SO CUTE!"
"They're literally a romcom couple!!"
"Do they know they're a living fanfiction???"

Sero groaned, dragging his hands over his face in mortification. "Oh my god. I just did full-on Disney Channel Original Movie shit. Out loud. With harmony."

His heart hammered like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest, each beat so loud it drowned out the murmur of the café. He was certain—absolutely certain—he'd never recover from this.

This was supposed to be small. Safe. Something quiet and private he could send in a message—personal and survivable. A little secret just for the two of them. But no. Mina had hyped him up until he'd believed her, until he thought maybe standing in the center of a crowded café with his heart on a guitar strap was a good idea.

"Legendary," she'd called it.

He should have listened to Bakugou. "Don't do weird musical crap in public, dumbass."

And yet here he was, half their classmates staring, his confession strummed into existence in front of more witnesses than he could ever dream of surviving.

He was still spiraling—hands plastered to his face, body ready to sink straight through the floor—when a light poke brushed his shoulder.

Sero froze.

Slowly, he peeked between his fingers.

Todoroki stood right there, closer than he'd realized, his mismatched eyes steady and warm. His face was unreadable, but it wasn't cold. Never cold.

That steadiness alone made Sero straighten up like a soldier caught out of formation, flustered beyond saving. "Okay, listen, I am so sorry for embarrassing you like that. Mina swore it would be cute, and I thought maybe you'd smile or something, but now it's just... it's loud, and weird, and everyone's staring, and I—"

He didn't finish.

Because Todoroki kissed him.

Soft lips pressed against his own with such unshakable certainty that every frantic word dissolved on Sero's tongue. His eyes flew wide, breath hitching, heart halting mid-beat. Todoroki—stoic, reserved, absolutely-not-a-PDA-person Todoroki—was kissing him.

In public.

And for the space of a breath, the world ceased to exist. There was no guitar, no scattered applause, no squealing classmates. Just the press of lips, the warmth blooming through his chest, and the impossible stillness of a moment that felt infinite.

When Todoroki finally drew back, it was slow, deliberate, as if he wasn't quite ready to let go. His hand lingered at Sero's arm, anchoring him. The café had gone silent again, hushed like a chapel, as though even the air understood something sacred had just bloomed.

Sero blinked, dazed, the word escaping him in a breath. "Mi vida...?"

Todoroki didn't answer with words.

Instead, he smiled. Soft. Tentative. Genuine. Not the practiced curve of politeness, not a fleeting twitch of his lips. A true smile, rare and unguarded, one that touched the corners of his eyes and softened every line of his face.

A smile that was his. Only his.

Then Todoroki leaned in again—not for another kiss on the lips, not for dramatics, but to press the gentlest kiss to Sero's cheek. His lips brushed warm against skin, lingering just a moment, before his arms slid around Sero's shoulders and pulled him close.

No hesitation. No restraint. Just a quiet, certain hug.

Sero froze for the briefest heartbeat.

And then melted. Completely.

The guitar slipped from his hands, leaning forgotten against the chair. His arms looped around Todoroki's waist, slow and reverent, like he was gathering something sacred into his chest—something he couldn't risk shattering if he held too hard. He closed his eyes, forehead resting against Todoroki's temple, breath brushing against pale skin.

The strands of red and white hair tickled along his jaw, silky-soft, brushing his lips when he dared to shift closer. He breathed him in—snow, peppermint, the faint smoky trace of firewood, clean and grounding. That scent was Todoroki himself, sharp and gentle at once, winter warmed by a hidden flame.

A shaky laugh broke from his chest as he exhaled, the sound raw and tender, because he could feel his heart hammering so wildly it almost hurt. It wasn't fear—it was awe. The kind of awe that came from holding something you weren't sure you deserved but couldn't let go of, the kind of awe that made your chest ache in the best possible way. His pulse thudded like a drum, keeping time to something only they could hear.

Above them, the café's string lights glowed golden, halos of warmth circling the edges of their world. The chatter of classmates faded, the walls blurred, the air softened, until it felt like they were floating inside a bubble of light and quiet. Suspended. Timeless. A moment too delicate to be real, and yet—it was.

Sero tightened his hold, hugging Todoroki closer, and felt the answering shift immediately.

Todoroki didn't pull away.

If anything, his fingers curled into the back of Sero's sweater—firm, steady—clutching like someone who wasn't ready to let go, not now, not ever. The tremble in his hand wasn't hesitation; it was release. Permission. A slow surrender into something he'd kept locked away for so long.

"Shoto..." Sero whispered into his hair, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he couldn't yet say.

Todoroki's reply came quiet, steady, the kind of voice meant for one person alone. "Don't let go."

Sero's throat tightened. He buried his face deeper into Todoroki's hair, lips brushing against strands that smelled faintly of fresh winter air. His arms curled tighter around him. "Not a chance."

The world carried on around them—the soft clink of mugs behind the counter, the faint whisper of the staff, someone giggling into their hand.

But for once—Sero didn't care.

Not anymore.

All he cared about was the boy in his arms, the weight of him, the warmth pressed into his chest, the trust in the way he clung back. All he cared about was the quiet miracle that Shoto Todoroki—the boy who rarely gave pieces of himself away—was choosing to give this piece to him.

Sero pulled back just a little, just enough to see his face. Their foreheads brushed, noses almost bumping, and Sero laughed softly, helpless and boyish. "You know you just made me the happiest idiot alive, right?"

Todoroki's eyes softened, his lips curving in the smallest, shyest smile. "Good. Then we're even."

The grin on Sero's face bloomed wider, bright and unstoppable. He let out a breathless laugh and whispered into those red-and-white strands brushing his lips.

"Merry Christmas, mi vida."

The words were half a vow, half a prayer, all heart.

Todoroki didn't answer with words.

Instead, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Sero's cheek, lingering there a beat longer than necessary, as if memorizing the warmth. His arms tightened just slightly, just enough, pressing an unspoken promise into the embrace itself.

And in that single, wordless hold—Sero felt it all.

The warmth. The promise. The fragile, certain beginning of something beautiful.

Something that already felt like home.

Chapter 19: Christmas Party

Notes:

Mwah!

I fear this is leaning towards KiriBaku, but don't worry, our favorite ship will shine again!

Third Person POV:

"Okay, everyone! The Class 1-A Christmas break party is officially live!" Mina cheered at the top of her lungs, leaping onto the couch like it was her personal stage.

A chorus of cheers erupted across the common room, full of laughter, excitement, and more than a little chaos. Strings of fairy lights twinkled above them, wrapping the dorm's lounge in a soft golden glow. Someone had even thrown tinsel on the walls, and the faint smell of warm cinnamon rolls drifted from the kitchen.

Mina beamed, eyes wide and glittering as she took it all in—the sound of her friends laughing, the music playing off someone's phone, the soft murmur of conversations overlapping in a blur of joy. It had been a long, grueling semester, filled with battles, training, and emotional whiplash. They were only first-years, but it felt like they'd already lived through more than most pro heroes had in their early careers.

So seeing her classmates smile, even just for a night?

It made everything worth it.

Her heart swelled.

She bounced a little where she stood, the bells on her reindeer headband jingling. But her triumph was short-lived.

"Mina! Please refrain from standing on the furniture!" Iida exclaimed in that stiff, overly enthusiastic way he always did, hands chopping furiously through the air. "This is a shared space and must be treated with respect!"

"Rocking around! The Christmas tree and a HAPPY HOLIDAY!" Momo, Hagakure, and Uraraka practically screamed in song, cutting him off with a peppy explosion of holiday cheer.

Iida blinked. He tried to remain stern. But his eye twitched.

Mina just stuck her tongue out at him with a grin and hopped off the couch like a rebellious elf. "Lighten up, Iida~ It's Christmas!"

Ojiro and Sato were at the snack table, ears covered from the girls' enthusiastic singing, though their faces were amused. Aoyama sparkled (literally) as he directed Midoriya in placing a glittering star atop the class Christmas tree, both of them glowing with pride.

On the couch nearby, Tokoyami sat stoically as Tsuyu tried helping him into a too-small Santa hat. "Must you all be so loud," he muttered.

Mina puffed out her cheeks. "Of course we have to be loud! That's the whole point. It's Christmas spirit!"

Tsuyu tilted her head, blinking slowly at Tokoyami. "Don't you think there's something sweet in the air tonight, Tokoyami?"

He opened his mouth, paused, and blushed faintly. He turned away just as Dark Shadow snickered near his shoulder, whispering, "You're cute when you blush~"

Tokoyami glared at his own shadow. "Betrayal," he muttered.

But just then—

"BAKUGOU, PLEASE TALK TO ME!"

"GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME, SHITTY HAIR!"

The common room's cheerful vibe hiccupped as all eyes turned toward the kitchen door. Kirishima trailed behind Bakugou, who looked ten seconds away from exploding, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Even amidst the twinkling lights and Christmas joy, the air grew tense.

Mina frowned as she slowly stepped down from her celebratory perch. Her gaze softened at the sight of her two friends—Kirishima looking crushed, Bakugou visibly bristling with something deeper than just anger.

Heartache, maybe.

Frustration?

Pain?

Kirishima, ever the brave one, reached out again. "Katsuki, please. You've barely looked at me all night. Not in the kitchen, not during dinner. I don't know what I did wrong, just—talk to me."

Bakugou's glare was sharper than ever, but before he could answer—

"BAKUBABE~ You gotta turn that frown upside down for Christmas!" Mina cooed, skipping over in a half-joking attempt to cut the tension.

Bakugou gave her a look that could kill a lesser man. Kirishima let out a tired sigh, rubbing his face. "Mina, please, not now."

But the chaos didn't stop.

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!"

They turned to see Kaminari and Mineta at the center of a makeshift circle of students, eggnog cartons raised high as a crowd gathered to cheer them on.

"Bro, don't give up now! CHUG THIS BITCH!" Sato yelled, pounding on the table.

"I'm losing 1000 yen here, you little perv!" Hagakure hollered at Mineta, who was trembling as he tried to down another gulp.

Denki was nearly finished, a goofy, determined fire in his eyes as sweat rolled down his cheek. Some of the class had started waving paper yen in the air, placing wild bets like it was the Sports Festival all over again.

Kirishima turned to watch for a moment, and something in him wilted.

He missed it. Not just the wild games, or the weird energy. He missed his friend—his partner in crime, his co-op buddy, his emotional support sparring partner. He missed Kaminari's dumb jokes, his too-loud laughter, and how he used to talk endlessly about ships and fanfics and Sero's stupid hair.

But now...

Everything felt different. Distant.

Because of a misunderstanding. Because they both started dating, well, now Sero had someone—and Kirishima felt like he was losing everyone else too.

Mina, ever observant, followed his gaze and gently bumped her shoulder into his.

"We'll figure this out," she said softly, her earlier cheer fading into a rare moment of quiet understanding.

Kirishima looked at her—really looked—and managed a tired, thankful smile. "Thanks, Mina."

Before she could answer, a sharp voice cut through the room.

"I'm done!"

The living room froze.

Every bit of chatter, laughter, music—gone in an instant. Like the air had been sucked out of the party.

Bakugou stood stiff, fists clenched at his sides, eyes burning as he stared at Kirishima. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed toward the hallway, footsteps echoing with a mixture of fury and pain. His exit left a jagged silence in his wake, like someone had dropped a glass and no one dared to breathe.

Kirishima stood still, frozen mid-step, lips parted like he wanted to explain—but nothing came out. His eyes were wide, filled with confusion and something dangerously close to regret. He muttered something under his breath, too quiet to hear, and rushed after Bakugou, weaving through the stunned crowd.

Mina stood rooted near the couch, her drink slowly lowering in her hand. Her lips parted as if she was going to say something—apologize, yell, beg them to come back—but the words never formed. Just a quiet, deflating sigh as the twinkling lights above her blinked like distant stars, too soft to light up this kind of mess.

She was about to retreat toward the chugging contest—anything to escape the heaviness—when something caught her eye. Her face lit up instantly as two familiar figures stepped into the party: one tall and grinning, the other quiet, composed, and peppermint-haired.

"Sero!" Mina beamed, abandoning her drink and practically sprinting toward him.

Sero barely had time to open his arms before she collided into him with a gleeful hug. Todoroki flinched slightly, still not used to Mina's bursts of affection, but he stayed by Sero's side, brushing their hands together like an anchor.

" How was your date?!" Mina wiggled her eyebrows.

"It was perfect," Sero said, voice soft, fond. His eyes glanced toward Todoroki like the rest of the room didn't exist.

Todoroki's ears flushed pink, but he didn't look away.

Mina pulled back with a dreamy sigh, hands still gripping Sero's shoulders. "You guys are too cute. Seriously. I wish Kiri and Bakubabe were like you two. But nooope. They're already fighting."

Sero blinked. "Already? We were only gone two hours."

"Yup," Mina popped the 'p,' arms folding over her chest. "One second we're teasing each other, next thing I know Bakugou's blowing up—again." She exhaled, flopping dramatically into a bean bag chair. "Love is so exhausting."

Todoroki tilted his head. "I thought love was supposed to be... grounding."

"Tell that to the human hand grenade," she muttered.

Sero gave a small laugh before a new thought hit him. His eyes widened in horror. "Wait—Mina. Is today Secret Santa?"

Mina's eyes narrowed into judgmental slits. "You forgot?"

Sero held up his hands defensively. "I was focused on mi vida's present, thank you very much."

Todoroki, with perfect timing, nodded. "I forgot as well. Apologies, Mina."

Mina let out a dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I can't believe the romance power couple forgot. Fine. I'll cheat and say you had each other, but only because I love love."

Sero gave her a cheeky thumbs-up and pulled Todoroki closer by the waist. "You're the best."

"No problem." Mina leaned in, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "But also—don't be mad—I might have told Bakugou that Kiri and I had a thing in middle school... and now he's pissed."

Todoroki blinked slowly. Sero coughed.

"You and Kirishima?" Sero asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It was nothing! Just a dumb moment—middle school hormones and awkward class pairings. Totally irrelevant now! Kiri's basically in love with Bakubabe. It meant zip."

Todoroki turned to Sero, brows faintly furrowed. "Hanta, what kind of 'thing' do people usually mean when they say that?"

Sero's face froze in mock alarm. "Uh... context varies?"

Mina groaned like her soul was leaving her body. "I hate both of you," she muttered before fleeing dramatically toward the snack table, muttering something about nachos and poor life choices.

Sero laughed and leaned into Todoroki, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Please never change."

Todoroki glanced at him, then away quickly, pink dusting his cheeks. "I wasn't planning on it."

And even though tension still hung in the air from earlier, and somewhere down the hall Bakugou's shouting could be faintly heard, there was still something warm about this moment. Something simple.

Just two first-years—barely figuring out love, navigating chaos, and still managing to find peace in each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okie! Time for presents~!" Mina chirped, bouncing slightly on her toes like she had caffeine in her veins instead of holiday cheer.

"Sweet!" Kaminari grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. His Santa hat was crooked on his head, and his sweater flashed obnoxiously with LED lights shaped like tiny electric bolts.

"Time for presents!" Hagakure echoed, her invisible form outlined faintly by the glimmer of fairy lights wrapped around her scarf.

Class 1-A began to gather in the dorm common room, the space glowing with soft Christmas lights and flickering candles, all reflected in the shiny ornaments on the tree. Garlands draped across the ceiling, festive snacks lined the tables, and someone—probably Sato—had baked an absurd number of cookies that now perfumed the room with sugar and warmth.

It was their first Secret Santa party as U.A. students, and despite a turbulent year filled with villain attacks, intense training, and growing pains, the holiday spirit had managed to sneak in and settle like a soft snowfall.

Even the KiriBaku duo had shown up... though not exactly together.

Bakugou sulked at the edge of the room near the window, arms tightly crossed and his scowl a permanent fixture. His foot tapped irritably against the hardwood floor like it was personally offended by the decorations. The only thing missing was a sign above his head that read: I Hate Fun But I'm Here for the Snacks.

Across the room, Kirishima sat between Tokoyami and Sato, attempting to laugh along with the group but looking more like a kicked puppy trying to act brave. His fingers twisted in the hem of his sweater, eyes flicking toward Bakugou every few seconds when he thought no one was looking.

Sero noticed, of course. He always noticed. But he stayed quiet for now. This wasn't the time.

Next to him, Todoroki handed Sero a warm drink, gently brushing his hand in silent comfort. Sero squeezed his fingers in return.

Bakugou glanced over just once—and immediately looked away.

"Alright! So this is our first-ever Class 1-A Secret Santa!" Mina beamed, standing in the center of the circle with Aoyama at her side. Both of them were dramatically wrapped in Christmas lights like chaotic, festive warriors. Mina's lights blinked in time with the music playing softly from Jirou's phone, while Aoyama's sparkled like they had been personally approved by the universe to outshine the stars.

"Whaoooo!" Most of the class erupted in cheers, Sato raising both fists in the air like he'd just won the Sports Festival.

Mina clapped her hands together, eyes glittering. "Before we start, I just wanna say—I love all of you! Seriously. You guys are my family. We've been through a lot this year, and somehow, we're still standing. You've helped me become a better hero and a better friend. So... yeah. I'm excited to grow up with you weirdos."

"Awwww~" Hagakure and Momo cooed in sync.

"That was very nice, Ashido!" Iida declared, striking a chop through the air. "Your words embody the very essence of youthful camaraderie!"

Sato discreetly wiped at his eyes, while Shoji and Koda gave him soft, supportive pats. Even Tokoyami nodded solemnly, the tip of his Santa hat bobbing with grave holiday approval.

"Yeah, yeah, can we get to the good part now?" Mineta rolled his eyes with a whine, arms crossed like a toddler denied dessert.

Every nearby classmate glared at him in unison.

"No wonder you don't have friends," Jirou muttered under her breath, not bothering to look up from tuning her guitar.

"I do have friends!" Mineta gasped dramatically, clutching his chest like someone had just insulted his mother. "I have Kirishima!"

Kirishima blinked. He gave a forced, apologetic smile and shook his head slowly. "Sorry, man... your whole vibe is kinda the opposite of manly."

"What about—Sero?"

Sero raised a brow. "Dude. I have standards."

"Midoriya?"

"Please don't involve me in this," Midoriya said, flustered, already sweating.

"Fine! Denki and I are best friends!" Mineta huffed.

Denki, who was still recovering from the eggnog chugging contest, slowly looked up from his spot on the floor and blinked like a confused puppy. "Wait... what's happening?"

Sero and Kirishima exchanged looks. Mina, bless her heart, swooped in to redirect the trainwreck of a conversation before it burst into actual flames.

"Anyway! Who wants to go first?" she asked, loud enough to shake the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

"I do!" Uraraka said, raising her hand like she was volunteering for battle. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes bright with nerves and excitement.

Mina flourished a hand toward her. "Go for it, Queen of Gravity!"

Uraraka stood and pulled a carefully wrapped package from under the tree, smiling brightly. "Okay, so... my Secret Santa was... Tsu!"

Tsuyu blinked, surprised. "Me?"

Uraraka nodded and handed her the gift with both hands. "I really hope you like it. I saved up my allowance for weeks."

Tsuyu took the box gently, carefully peeling the wrapping like it was a puzzle. When she opened it, her eyes widened and her lips pulled into a soft smile.

"Frog slippers... Ribbit. I love them. Thank you, Ochaco."

Uraraka let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Really?"

"Really," Tsuyu said, already slipping one on over her socks.

The two girls shared a quick hug, genuine and warm.

"Awwww~ That's adorable," Mina gushed, hands over her heart.

Tsuyu turned to the group once she sat back down. "My Secret Santa is... Momo."

Momo's eyes widened. "Oh! Me?"

Tsuyu handed her a modestly wrapped box. "I remembered something you said during training week. I hope it's okay."

Jirou leaned forward as Momo unwrapped the box, her eyes glinting with quiet pride. "Tsuyu found them," she whispered, not bothering to hide the smug satisfaction in her voice.

Momo's eyes widened the moment the box opened. "The specialty teas! From that imported shop in Shizuoka! You remembered?" Her voice was tinged with delighted disbelief, her fingers brushing over the delicate packaging like it might disappear.

Tsuyu gave a slow, content nod. "You seemed like you needed something relaxing. Ribbit."

Momo's expression softened into something warm and vulnerable. She turned to Jirou, a hint of playful accusation in her voice. "So that's why you were being sneaky?"

"I—uh—maybe a little," Jirou muttered, her earjacks fidgeting at her sides as she glanced away, clearly flustered.

Without hesitation, Momo leaned over and kissed Jirou on the cheek.

Jirou froze.

Her face went red—like red-red. Like "emergency-alert-screen" red. Her fingers twitched like her guitar had just grown a new string and she didn't know what to do with it.

Around them, Mina and Hagakure practically exploded into high-pitched squeals.

"You guys are so cute~!" Mina gushed, clapping her hands and bouncing in place.

"Actual soulmates," Hagakure swooned, her scarf lighting up as she spun in a circle.

Mineta groaned dramatically from his place near the snack table, throwing himself across a beanbag like the world had ended. "Ughhh, it'd be better if they weren't wearing any—"

WHACK!

He got smacked on both sides of the head at once—Sero's roll of wrapping paper from the left, Kirishima's boxed protein bars from the right.

"OW!?"

"Keep talking and I'll staple your lips shut," Sero said, not even bothering to look away from the scene in front of him.

"One more word and you're out," Iida warned, his glasses flashing ominously as he stepped forward, arms raised in strict authority mode. "I will escort you from this event."

Mineta grumbled something inaudible and elbowed Denki beside him. "Everyone's so sensitive."

Denki didn't answer. He just gave a strained smile, rubbing his arm in that fidgety way he did when something was off. Sero's gaze flicked over, brows twitching slightly in concern. But he stored that worry for later—there were other things to focus on for now.

Momo rose gracefully, brushing invisible lint off her skirt like she was about to deliver a presidential speech.

"My turn," she said with a modest but proud smile. "Choosing was difficult—there are so many people I care about—but in the end, I realized something."

Half the class leaned in with anticipation.

"I couldn't pick just one of you."

Gasps.

Like, actual gasps.

"Wait, what?" Kaminari blinked, eyes wide. "She's breaking protocol!"

"That's against the rules!" Mineta protested, scandalized. "Where's the order?! Where's the justice?!"

Momo placed a dainty hand on her chest. "I am the class vice president. And the spirit of giving outweighs tradition." She flashed a dazzling smile.

Shoji nodded sagely. "She has a point."

"I approve this exception!" Mina declared, tossing glitter into the air like confetti. "All hail Empress Yaoyorozu!"

Aoyama struck a pose beside her, one leg popped out dramatically. "La lumière du cadeau~!"

( The light of the gift)

Iida adjusted his glasses, visibly twitching but valiantly holding himself together. "...In the name of unity and holiday goodwill, I shall allow it."

"God bless us, everyone," Kaminari whispered, eyes fake-misty.

Momo clapped her hands, clearly pleased. "Perfect! So... I got something small—but thoughtful—for each of you. Shopping was... challenging, but fun."

She began handing out gift bags like a benevolent queen bestowing treasures to her loyal court. Each sleek tote bore their initials in shiny lettering and was filled with an assortment of gourmet snacks, handmade bookmarks, custom enamel pins—and, to everyone's utter disbelief, mini-tablets.

Each one was customized with their provisional hero colors and their chosen code name delicately engraved on the back.

"I... I'm being seen right now," Kaminari whispered, holding his tablet like it was made of stardust.

"Mine has an etching of my scarf in the corner," Ojiro marveled, tracing it in wonder.

"She even got my hero suit pattern carved into the case," Hagakure squealed. "It's invisible ink that glows under UV light!"

"I can't believe you remembered my favorite energy bar brand," Koda said softly, voice trembling with emotion.

Tokoyami cradled his obsidian tablet reverently. "A relic forged in the deepest shadow. Truly, a gift born from the abyss. I accept it."

Jirou smiled as Momo returned to her seat beside her. She reached over and gently squeezed her hand. "You seriously didn't have to go this hard."

"But I wanted to," Momo whispered, her cheeks dusted a delicate pink.

From the other side of the circle, Sato raised a protein bar above his head like he'd found the holy grail. "Alright, Momo wins Secret Santa for, like, the next five years."

Even Bakugou, who had been sitting in judgmental silence this whole time, blinked when he opened his bag and saw the tablet. He stared at it for a solid five seconds... then casually shoved it under his arm like it had insulted him.

"Tch. I didn't ask for this."

"But you didn't return it," Kaminari sing-songed, wiggling his brows.

"Shut it, Pikachu," Bakugou growled, but he clutched the bag a little tighter.

Sero leaned over to Todoroki and whispered, "Think he's secretly touched?"

Todoroki, deadpan as ever, blinked. "He's holding the bag like it's a puppy."

Sero snorted, quickly covering his mouth to muffle the laugh. "Mi dios, you're the worst," he said fondly.

Todoroki shrugged. "I'm honest."

Sero was still chuckling when his eyes drifted across the room again—and there he was.

Kirishima.

Still sitting stiffly between Tokoyami and Sato, his usual brightness dimmed. His fingers fiddled with the ribbon from his gift bag like he was unraveling a memory. Every few seconds, his gaze flicked over to Bakugou—then quickly away, like he wasn't supposed to be looking.

Sero's heart tugged.

"Hey, mi vida," he murmured to Todoroki, nudging him gently. "Be right back."

Todoroki looked up from his now perfectly symmetrical candy pile. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah," Sero said, squeezing his shoulder. "Gonna check on Kiri. He's not doing great."

Todoroki nodded. "Tell him I'm cheering for him."

Sero smiled, kissed Todoroki's temple, and stood with a quiet stretch, weaving through the crowd.

Kirishima sat a little slouched now, his eyes still flicking toward a certain explosive blonde sitting across the room. The smile he gave when he noticed Sero was paper-thin, like it had been folded too many times and was starting to tear.

"Kiri~" Sero said softly as he crouched beside him, his voice gentle.

Kirishima looked up, trying for cheerful. "Hey, bro."

"You wanna come talk for a sec?"

Kirishima hesitated.

His eyes, full of something raw and too heavy for a party, flicked once more toward Bakugou—who still sat stiffly by the wall, pretending to study a candy cane like it held government secrets.

"...Yeah," Kirishima said finally. "Yeah, sure."

They stood and made their way toward the kitchen, casual but quiet.

A few eyes followed them, curious. Concerned.

One pair, however—red and sharp and simmering—stayed locked on them like a predator waiting in the dark.

Bakugou's jaw clenched.

He popped a caramel into his mouth.

Pretended not to care.

Totally didn't care.

Not at all.

Not even a little.

But his eyes never left the kitchen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dude, why didn't you tell him?"

Kirishima winced at the question, his whole body sinking against the wall outside the dorm common room. He looked like a kicked puppy, shoulders slumped, eyes clouded with guilt.

"I-I don't know," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand that trembled just slightly. "I didn't think it would matter, okay? I was just... I was so focused on trying to figure out if he even liked me. And when I finally got him to say yes—to be my boyfriend—I was so freaking happy, man. It felt like winning the sports festival or something. I just—"

His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard. "I just forgot. I forgot to tell him about that stuff with Mina. It felt like it didn't matter anymore because it was over. It was over."

Sero watched his friend unravel, heart twisting in his chest. Kirishima had always been the steady one—loud and kind and strong. Seeing him like this, eyes wide with fear and fists clenched like he was bracing for a villain attack, hurt.

"Dude..." Sero exhaled slowly. "He thinks you and Mina still have something going on."

Kirishima's eyes went wide with panic. "What?! No! No, no, no—he can't think that! That was, like... junior high! Mina and I were just—just kids messing around with feelings we didn't understand. She's my best friend now, nothing more!"

Sero raised a brow. "You do realize junior high was literally last year?" he said, lips twitching into a smirk despite the tension.

Kirishima let out a groan and facepalmed dramatically, dragging his hand down his face. "He's gonna dump me. Oh my god, he's so gonna dump me."

"Dude, no, he's not," Sero said with a sigh, but Kirishima didn't look convinced. His red eyes were wide and wet, blinking fast like he was trying to stop them from overflowing.

"Yes he is! You didn't see the way he looked at me today—like he didn't even know me, like I was just another dumb guy who let him down. He didn't even sit next to me during Secret Santa. He sat next to Kaminari. And he hates Kaminari right now!"

Sero walked over and placed a hand on Kirishima's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. "Look, mi amigo, listen to me. Bakubro is not gonna dump you."

Kirishima sniffled. "How do you know?"

Sero tilted his head with a mischievous little grin and lifted one brow. "Because that dude is obsessed with you."

Kirishima blinked. "Wha—"

"I mean obsessed, bro," Sero continued, now dramatically pacing. "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Like you hung the damn moon. He checks for you in every room, he doesn't even bark at people when you're around. And when you touch him? His whole body tenses up like he's holding in a damn explosion. You melt the guy."

Kirishima's cheeks flushed, lips twitching. "You're exaggerating..."

"I'm not," Sero said firmly, pointing a finger at his chest. "I've known Bakugou for a couple of months now and I've seen him burn holes in people's souls just by glaring at them. But you? You touch his shoulder and he melts into marshmallow goo."

Kirishima finally laughed—weakly, but it was something. "Okay... so... what do I do?"

Sero's eyes gleamed. "Glad you asked, because I have an idea."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay~ It's Kiri's turn!"

Mina's sing-song voice cut through the buzz of chatter like a sparkler.

Kirishima flinched—not visibly, not to most, but Sero caught it. A barely-there shift of the shoulders, the hesitation in his breath. He stood slowly, brushing his palms down his pant legs, more to ground himself than to smooth anything out.

The common room quieted. All eyes turned to him.

Well—almost all.

Bakugou didn't move. He sat on the edge of the armrest, arms crossed, face carved from stone. He looked determined to not give a single fuck. His eyes were locked on a distant spot on the wall like it owed him money.

Kirishima's chest ached.

From across the room, Sero gave him a wink and a tiny thumbs-up. Kirishima nodded gratefully, lips tugging into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Todoroki, who had been munching quietly on individually unwrapped squares of chocolate, glanced between the two of them with faint curiosity.

"Uh... hey guys," Kirishima began, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, for my Secret Santa, I got..." He trailed off, heart thudding as the silence stretched. Then he took a deep breath and smiled sheepishly. "Before I say who it is, I just wanna say something real quick."

Some students perked up. Tokoyami tilted his head. Ojiro leaned forward slightly.

"You guys—bros and girl-bros—you've been the best friends I could ask for. Being at U.A., training, surviving villains, exams, sleep-deprived all-nighters with Iida screaming about study plans—" a few chuckles rippled through the room, "—it's been the best year of my life. I can't wait until we're all out there, being real pro heroes together. That's all."

The class clapped and cheered warmly. Even Jirou gave a subtle smile, and Tsuyu nodded in agreement. Aoyama struck a glittery pose of approval.

Everyone except Bakugou. Still motionless. Still looking away.

And Denki, who was blinking slowly like he had no idea what was happening and might be buffering.

Kirishima chuckled, trying to hide the tremor in his hands. "So, uh... for my Secret Santa, I got..." He glanced at the small bag still unopened at his feet. Then, slowly, he looked back up. "...Myself."

Sero choked so hard on his juice that he doubled over in a coughing fit. Todoroki froze mid-chew and looked at him with alarm. Mina blinked. "Wait, what?"

Shoji tilted his head. Momo frowned. Hagakure whispered, "Is that allowed?"

Even Bakugou turned at that. One eyebrow raised, irritation flickering across his face, like this was the dumbest twist he'd ever witnessed and he was still somehow intrigued.

"Wait, wait—just let me explain!" Kirishima raised his hands, laughing nervously. "I didn't mean I cheated or anything. It's just... I couldn't think of a gift better than this."

The mood shifted slightly. A few confused murmurs. A pause.

Kirishima inhaled deeply.

"I got myself the best gift I could ever ask for. And that's getting close to Bakugou."

Silence.

The kind that stretched and rang in your ears. Every head turned slowly toward Bakugou like someone had just lit a fuse under his chair.

Bakugou's eyes narrowed, sharp and glittering. "What the fuck are you doing?" he said under his breath, voice low but lethal.

Kirishima didn't flinch this time.

He stepped forward.

"I know you don't like all this sentimental crap. I know you're probably already five seconds away from blowing me into the Christmas tree. But I've gotta say it, Katsuki." His voice shook, but it never wavered. "I don't care that you're explosive or short-tempered. I don't care that you bark instead of talk sometimes. You make me want to be braver, stronger... better."

His voice cracked, just barely. He swallowed.

"You're the loudest, messiest, angriest miracle I've ever met. And I'm lucky—I mean so damn lucky—to be close to you. To be your boyfriend."

Gasps rippled like thunder across the room. Momo's jaw dropped. Mina covered her mouth with both hands, squeaking. Tokoyami whispered, "Such... unfiltered emotion."

Kirishima looked right at Bakugou.

"And yeah, maybe you hate me right now. Maybe you think I lied or hid stuff from you. But I didn't. I was just scared. Scared of losing what we had. And that's not very manly of me, but it's the truth."

He gave a nervous laugh, and his eyes shimmered, unshed tears threatening to fall. "If you're gonna break up with me, at least let me say it out loud: You're the best gift I've ever had."

He bowed. Deep, respectful, aching.

The room was dead silent.

Then—

"Respect, dude. Respect." Sato nodded solemnly.

Shoji mirrored it. "A heartfelt confession. Admirable."

"My heart is vibrating," Aoyama declared, glitter practically spilling from his sleeves.

Jirou gave a tiny golf clap. "Honestly? That was brave as hell."

Even Tokoyami muttered, "I will be journaling about this."

Midoriya, who had been frozen with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth, turned to look at Bakugou. The blonde's face was bright red. Not pink. Not flushed. Red. Like tomato-paste red.

His hands were clenched. Knuckles white.

Sero stood abruptly, jogging over to Kirishima and grabbing his arm like a lifeline. "Alright, loverboy. You need a drink before you short-circuit."

He dragged Kirishima off toward the kitchen, patting his shoulder as the class finally started breathing again.

Then—

"Wow... that sucked," Mineta muttered.

He didn't even finish blinking before a, controlled explosion sent him flying across the common room with a wail. He hit a beanbag with a loud THUMP.

Koda yelped. Kaminari shrieked and dove behind the couch.

"Fucking finally," Jirou muttered, nodding with approval.

"Normally I would not condone violence," Iida began, already reaching for his rulebook, "but in this case, I'll allow it."

Midoriya winced but didn't interfere. His gaze flicked to Bakugou, who stood up abruptly, the tablet Momo had gifted him still clutched tightly in one hand.

He didn't say a word.

He just stormed upstairs, footsteps thunderous on the staircase, his palm was smoking, his face unreadable except for the glowing blush that lingered long after he was gone.

The room fell quiet again.

Until Todoroki, who had been quietly observing everything, stood up too—gathering his snack pile with calculated slowness.

Without a word or glance to anyone, he followed after Bakugou, his expression neutral, maybe curious.

Midoriya's eyes narrowed.

"...That can't be good."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dude, what the hell was that?!"

Sero's voice cut through the hum of party music like a slap, his tone pitched halfway between a wheeze and a scream. He yanked Kirishima into the kitchen by the arm, away from the stunned and half-silent crowd still lingering in the common room—where mistletoe hung crookedly, half the snacks were untouched, and someone had dropped a plate during the spectacle.

"You told me to do something romantic!" Kirishima exclaimed, breathless and pink-cheeked, as red as the ribbon still hanging loosely from his wrist.

"In private, you idiota adorable!" Sero groaned, dragging a hand down his face and smacking his forehead for emphasis. "Not in front of the entire dorm like it was the final act of a holiday soap opera!"

( adorable idiot)

Kirishima blinked at him. "Wait—adorable?"

"Don't change the subject!" Sero snapped, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him, twitching upward. "You basically declared your undying devotion in front of Bakugou. And Jirou. And Iida. And the entire student body who now thinks we're halfway through a tragic romance arc!"

"I—I thought it was romantic!" Kirishima groaned, tugging at his hair as he paced. "Like... like those cheesy movies Denki used to make us watch before he got banned from movie night. You know, with the slow-mo snow and dramatic piano music and crying! I even bought the mistletoe!"

"You bowed, dude!" Sero cried, throwing his hands up. "You straight-up monk-bowed in front of the whole dorm! Who does that?!"

"I panicked!" Kirishima wailed, spinning around. "I thought it was like... a respectful bow! A manly show of devotion! Like, 'I failed you emotionally, but here is my soul wrapped in holiday spirit!'"

Sero looked like he wanted to scream. "Manly isn't the answer to everything, bro! Nobody bows and thinks, 'Yep, this'll totally make up for hiding a middle school crush with my best friend from the guy I love.'"

"I thought it would show I was serious!" Kirishima said helplessly. "I thought it would mean something!"

"It did," Sero muttered. "It meant you just made everyone at the party emotionally combust at the same time."

Before the redhead could say anything else, Mina leaned dramatically into the doorway, arms crossed and wearing a half-devastated, half-entertained expression.

"Umm, hi? Did I just witness a love confession or the pilot episode of a holiday tragedy special? Because I need to know what to tell Jirou when she inevitably writes a sad song about it."

Kirishima groaned and sank into the nearest stool. "I ruined everything."

"I told him to apologize with something sweet and romantic," Sero said with an exaggerated gesture, pointing at the sulking redhead like an offended chef. "Not hijack the party and traumatize the student body."

"I thought it was romantic!" Kirishima mumbled, burying his face in his hands. "It's manly!"

Mina walked over and crouched beside him, gently patting his back like he was a dog that just got yelled at for knocking over the Christmas tree. "Oh baby, that wasn't romantic. That was... aggressively sincere. You looked like a kicked puppy reciting slam poetry."

"I am a kicked puppy!" Kirishima moaned, sliding dramatically off the stool and curling up on the floor with his arms wrapped around his knees. "A stupid, overconfident puppy who thinks love is made of snow and jazz music!"

Sero's expression finally softened. He crouched beside him, placing a hand on Kirishima's shoulder. "You're not stupid. You've got a huge heart and the timing of a fire alarm during finals. But we can fix this."

Kirishima sniffled. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. You just need... less theatrics, more sincerity. Real sincerity. Like, maybe a letter. Or—oh god—actual communication."

Mina tilted her head. "You write letters?"

Sero shot her a look. "Don't out me like that."

She smirked, but her expression shifted to a more serious tone as she glanced over her shoulder toward the hallway. "Anyway, you better fix it fast. Because Shoto Baby just went after Bakugou."

Sero's eyes bugged out. "Wait—Todoroki?! Why him?!"

Mina shrugged, already backing toward the door like she was preparing popcorn. "Guess he pulled the 'emotionally literate friend' straw this time. Or maybe he's secretly been waiting to play guidance counselor."

Sero groaned again, tugging at his own hair this time. "Oh mi maldito dios. This is going to spiral. Fast."

( Oh my fucking god)

Kirishima curled tighter on the floor, voice muffled. "Should I start drafting an apology letter? A poem? A playlist?"

"Let's just focus on not traumatizing the dorm twice in one night," Sero muttered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Bakugou?"

Todoroki's voice was steady, but something in his chest fluttered uneasily as his knuckles tapped once more against the closed dorm door. The hallway behind him was quiet, but his mind was anything but.

He didn't even know why he'd followed Bakugou upstairs in the first place. Logic told him to stay out of it. But his gut? His gut told him the explosion in the common room was just the tip of the emotional iceberg, and if someone didn't diffuse the ticking bomb behind this door, things would break in ways words couldn't fix.

Was it guilt? Maybe.

Sero had only encouraged Kirishima's over-the-top stunt after bouncing ideas off him. And now, standing outside Bakugou's door, Todoroki could already feel the furious energy radiating from the other side like heat from a blast zone.

He knocked a third time, gentler.

"I'm... sorry for Hanta's advice," Todoroki said, voice quiet but firm. "I'm sure he didn't mean for things to get that intense."

There was no answer—just a pause, dense and suffocating.

Then, boom—the door swung open so fast Todoroki instinctively tensed.

Bakugou stood in the doorway, jaw clenched, shoulders tight with rage. His face was flushed crimson—not just with fury, but something unspoken simmering beneath it. His chest rose and fell in shallow, furious breaths, like he'd been pacing before Todoroki interrupted.

"First of all," Bakugou snarled, voice low and cutting, "why the fuck are you here!?"

Todoroki didn't flinch. He met the rage head-on, his eyes cool and unreadable.

"Because I thought you might need someone to talk to," he said calmly. "And to apologize. For Hanta. And maybe for encouraging the plan."

"What makes you think I give a fuck about that?"

"You seem upset. Are you not?"

Bakugou's lips curled, fists tightening at his sides like he was moments from slamming the door—or a fist—into something. "Of course I'm fucking upset! One—because you're bothering me. Two—because your dumbass boyfriend gives stupid-ass advice!"

Todoroki tilted his head slightly, unaffected. "Hanta doesn't always give bad advice."

"Well, today he did!" Bakugou snapped, and with a growl of frustration, he began to shove the door shut.

But Todoroki calmly raised a hand, catching it—not with force, just firm pressure. Enough to pause the retreat.

"Kirishima really cares about you," he said quietly.

Bakugou's entire body twitched. His jaw clenched. For a second, his expression cracked—barely—but it was there. That flicker. That break.

But he masked it quickly, scowl returning in full.

"I don't give a fuck what Shitty Hair does or doesn't do."

"You do," Todoroki said plainly. "Otherwise you wouldn't be this angry."

Bakugou's hand faltered on the doorknob.

"I've been around them a lot lately—Hanta and Kirishima," Todoroki continued, voice soft but certain. "And I promise you, Kirishima never looked at Mina the way he looks at you."

"Don't," Bakugou growled.

But Todoroki stepped forward—just once, not enough to be threatening, just... close enough to be felt.

"That day—when I let it slip how he felt—it wasn't a total mistake. Hanta told me how Kirishima lights up when he talks about you. Not just admiration. It's deeper. It's... grounded. Like it scares him how much he cares."

Bakugou's hands curled into fists again. His throat moved as he swallowed something back—words or emotions, Todoroki couldn't tell.

"Then explain this," Bakugou finally barked. "If he's so fucking into me, then why the hell didn't he tell me he and Raccoon Eyes used to like each other?!"

Todoroki paused, absorbing that. Then, gently:

"Maybe because... it didn't matter anymore. Not to him."

"Well it matters to me!" Bakugou snapped, louder now, something wild flickering in his voice. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust someone who hides shit like that? Huh?! What else is he not telling me?"

And there it was.

Not just anger.

Not just jealousy.

Fear.

Raw, unfiltered fear. The kind that comes from getting close to someone for real and realizing they have the power to hurt you in ways no villain ever could.

Todoroki saw it. Felt it. Understood it.

Because he felt it too—with Sero.

"I get it," he said quietly. "You don't want to be blindsided. You don't want to feel like the last one to know something that changes everything."

Bakugou looked away, jaw tight.

Todoroki exhaled softly. "But I don't think Kirishima was trying to hide it. I think he didn't say anything because he didn't think it was worth hurting you over."

Bakugou's eyes widened for a split second. Then, like clockwork, he rolled them hard.

"You didn't even know you liked Tape Face until five minutes before kissing him," Bakugou muttered.

Todoroki blinked once. Then twice.

"True," he admitted. "But even before I realized it, I felt calmer with him. Like I could breathe easier. Like I was... safe."

He looked up, his voice softening.

"I think Kirishima feels that way around you."

Bakugou stared at him, silent. Something in his expression shifted—his mouth didn't twitch, but his eyes betrayed the war going on inside his head.

Then—

Footsteps. Fast ones. Frantic..

The two turned just in time to see Sero, panting and red in the face, jogging down the hall. Behind him, Mina was catching her breath, and finally, Kirishima, who looked like he'd sprinted through a battlefield, not just a hallway.

"M–Mi vida!" he gasped, clutching his side. "Can we talk?!"

Todoroki blinked, and gently grabbed Sero's arm, stopping him.

"Come with me, Hanta."

"But—"

"Let them talk," he said firmly.

Sero looked between Bakugou and Kirishima, who had just arrived—wild-eyed, disheveled, like he'd run through a warzone.

After a beat, Sero nodded. "Okay."

Todoroki led him away, with Mina trailing behind. Before leaving, she gave Bakugou one last glance, eyes soft but teasing.

"Don't hurt him, Katsuki," she said gently, before disappearing down the hall.

That left them.

Alone.

Bakugou stood in the doorway, the light behind him warm and dim. Kirishima stood frozen in the hallway, his face pale, his eyes red, and his voice hoarse when he finally spoke.

"Bakugou, I—I just wanted to say—"

"Shut up," Bakugou growled.

Kirishima flinched.

But instead of slamming the door in his face, Bakugou exhaled sharply... and pulled it open wider.

He didn't meet Kirishima's eyes, but his voice was lower. Rougher.

"Get in."

Kirishima blinked, heart slamming in his chest.

"O-Okay," he whispered.

And he did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Party time~!" Hagakure sang, throwing her arms into the air, invisible sparkles of excitement practically radiating off her as the colorful string lights above blinked and shimmered. The dorm common room was glowing—soft green, warm golds, playful reds. It felt like Christmas had spilled itself inside and refused to leave.

After the emotional intensity of Kirishima's earlier confession, the mood had gradually started to mend itself. A cautious optimism lingered like perfume. The music that pulsed from Jirou's Bluetooth speaker in the corner was rhythmic and mellow, setting a chill background for the chatter and laughter that had resumed.

Iida was back on the impromptu dance floor, limbs flying in awkwardly stiff angles as he performed his self-proclaimed "engine shuffle." Most people tried not to look—but a few giggled fondly. It wouldn't be a dorm party without Iida going all out.

More importantly, Mineta had been officially banned, and honestly, that alone made it the best night of the semester.

In a quieter corner near the window, Sero lounged on the couch, his long frame stretched out comfortably. One arm was slung lazily across the backrest, fingers just brushing the soft fabric behind Todoroki, who sat beside him—knees nearly touching, posture relaxed, eyes quietly absorbing the room around him.

Todoroki sipped slowly from a paper cup of chilled melon soda. His other hand rested on his thigh, fingers occasionally tapping in a subtle, rhythmic pattern. Though his expression was unreadable, he seemed more present than usual, more open—especially sitting this close to Sero.

At their feet, Mina was curled up on the rug, hugging a couch pillow to her chest like it was an emotional flotation device.

"I never meant for all this to happen," she sighed, voice heavy with guilt. "It was just a dumb moment—some laughs, a hug or two—and suddenly everything's tense. Like, Kirishima and I talked when we first got into U.A. No feelings. Clean slate. He even swore on his favorite protein bar."

Sero gave her a long-suffering look. "Mina, we know. This is, like, the fourth time you've said that."

"I know, but—ugh." She groaned and let her head fall back against the side of the couch. "I didn't think I could screw up something that was actually going well for once. I didn't want to."

There was a pause. Not judgmental—just thoughtful.

Then Todoroki's voice cut through the ambient sound, soft but firm. "Maybe try respecting others boundaries and being less physically affectionate," he said, tone blunt as ever. "When someone's in a relationship, it can send mixed signals. Especially if one of them is unsure of their place."

Mina blinked.

Sero raised an eyebrow, turning slightly toward Todoroki. "Damn."

"I didn't mean to cross any lines," Mina said quickly, sitting up straighter. Her voice was small, but honest. "I just... didn't think. I'm used to hugging my friends. But you're right. I should've been more aware."

Sero nodded. "You're good. Honestly, I think Kirishima and Bakubro needed to get smacked in the heart anyway. Maybe it's for the best."

Mina exhaled, then suddenly leaned forward in a theatrical bow of apology—so deep her forehead nearly touched the floor.

"Sorry, Todoroki! For being all touchy with Sero in front of you. I didn't even realize it might make you uncomfortable. I'll ask next time."

Todoroki's cup paused midway to his lips. He stared down at her, startled.

"It's okay," he said after a second. And though his voice was quiet, something about the softness in it made Mina visibly relax.

She grinned sheepishly. "Thanks, I'll go bug Jirou now before I say something else awkward. Bye, lovebirds~!"

She bounced off, her earlier regret easing with each skip.

The space she left behind felt quieter. Dimmer. More intimate.

Sero turned toward Todoroki, brows furrowing just slightly. "Mi vida... you were uncomfortable?"

Todoroki's gaze dropped to his cup again, watching bubbles swirl and pop in the green soda. He hesitated.

"Sometimes," he admitted. " I knew Mina didn't mean anything by it. But... before our date, the way she was leaning into you, you two were smiling together, laughing at everything—it made me feel like I didn't belong next to you. Like I was... optional."

That last word clung to the air like a bruise.

Sero's heart sank. Without a word, he reached out, tipping Todoroki's chin up gently with two fingers until their eyes met. One gray, one turquoise. Both wide with emotion.

"You are never optional," Sero said, voice low and sincere. "You're everything. I should've been more aware. I see it now. I'm sorry."

Todoroki blinked, eyes softening. And then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Sero's cheek, letting it linger.

A flush crept up both their faces, but neither moved away.

Sero's arm curled fully around Todoroki's waist, drawing him in, their sides flush now. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, but the warmth he felt had nothing to do with nerves. It was home.

"Wanna ditch this party?" Sero asked, his tone laced with fond mischief. "Just you, me, a pile of pillows, and some hilariously bad anime subs."

Todoroki didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"God, I love how fast you said that."

They stood, quietly weaving through the crowd like their own private current in a sea of bodies. Sero kept a hand at the small of Todoroki's back, steady and sure. No rush. Just comfort. Familiarity. Want.

As they reached the staircase, Sero leaned close to whisper, "I get first pick. I'm choosing the one where the dragon sounds like a 1940s taxi driver."

Todoroki smirked. "Only if I get to pick snacks."

"Deal."

They disappeared upstairs, hand in hand, leaving the music, the glow, and the bubbling laughter behind them.

None of them noticed the figure in the far corner of the common room—someone who hadn't moved in minutes.

Hidden in the shadowed edge of the room, a pair of eyes tracked their retreat with quiet intensity.

Narrowed. Sharp.

Unreadable.

And very, very awake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sooo..."

Kirishima's voice was barely above a whisper as he lay beside Bakugou, his fingers tangled nervously in the fabric of his sleeve. The sounds of laughter, clinking mugs, and festive music drifted faintly from the common room, like echoes of a world they weren't part of right now.

They'd been like this for ten minutes—silent, unmoving, wrapped in the kind of tension that felt like it could snap at any moment. The soft glow from the string of fairy lights across the window bathed the room in a dull amber hue, casting long shadows across Bakugou's face.

"We've been lying here not saying anything for a while..." Kirishima finally said, his voice trying to be light, but carrying too much weight to pull it off.

"I've got nothing to say," Bakugou muttered, his voice low and clipped, staring up at the ceiling like it held the answers to everything he refused to say out loud. His arms were crossed, rigid, fists clenched against his biceps like he was bracing for something painful.

Kirishima let out a small sigh. "Well... I meant everything I said, back at the party."

"I know, Kirishima," Bakugou said, softer now, almost like it cost him something to admit.

Kirishima sat up just enough to look over at him, a gentle smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. "You didn't call me 'Shitty Hair.'"

Bakugou's eyes narrowed, his brows pulling down, but the fire wasn't there. Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Not the right time."

Bakugou let out a frustrated groan and turned onto his side, his back now to him.

The smile faded from Kirishima's face like a candle snuffed out. He exhaled slowly, laying back down—but this time, he shifted closer. Not enough to touch, not yet, but enough that their shared warmth filled the space between them.

Enough to say I'm here. I'm not leaving.

"I really meant it, Kat..." His voice was low, raw with honesty. "Every word."

Bakugou didn't turn around. But after a long beat, he asked quietly, "Then why didn't you tell me you had a crush on her?"

Kirishima closed his eyes. "I don't know. I guess... I thought it didn't matter. It was so long ago. She was my first real friend at middle school and then in U.A.—it was a dumb, warm fuzzy feeling I didn't even realize I'd grown out of until it was already gone. I didn't think it'd hurt you. But I was wrong. And I'm sorry."

Bakugou frowned, still facing the wall. "You hang out with her every damn day. Laugh with her. Lean on her. You look happy around her. So how the hell am I supposed to believe I won't be the one you leave behind if it ever gets... easy again?"

Kirishima's breath caught. God, he hadn't realized how much that fear was eating away at Bakugou. How deep it ran.

The fact that Katsuki Bakugou—the most confident, prideful person he knew—sounded hurt, unsure... it crushed him.

Kirishima turned his head, his throat tight. "Katsuki... can you look at me? Please?"

Silence.

He waited. Hoped.

Bakugou didn't move.

Kirishima sighed and reached out, gently rolling him over so their eyes met. The moment Bakugou turned, he glared—but the sharpness wasn't real. It was armor. Thin and cracking.

Bakugou sat up with a scoff, arms crossed tightly across his chest. "What?"

Kirishima didn't speak. He reached for his hands instead.

Bakugou flinched—like he always did when touched without warning—but didn't yank away. Instead, he turned his face aside, jaw clenched. Like if he looked Kirishima in the eyes, the whole dam would break

Kirishima rubbed his thumbs over the calloused knuckles, grounding himself in that touch. "Katsuki," he said gently. "I'll never stop saying it... I want you. Not her. Not anyone else. Just you."

Bakugou's jaw twitched. But he didn't pull away.

"I liked her once," Kirishima admitted. "She was my first friend. She was kind to me when I didn't know who I was yet. But you, Katsuki—you're the one who saw who I could be."

Kirishima leaned in a little, voice soft. "You pushed me to be better. Stronger. You believed in me when I didn't know how to believe in myself."

Kirishima saw how the other tensed up, he didn't stop.

" I remember the first day I saw you. You were a hot head that thought you were the shit and...you quickly proved you were..."

Bakugou looked over and Kirishima continued, " I remember when we first fought together, those villains didn't stand a chance against us...I remember then how...awesome and bold you are...you were everything I hoped to be."

Kirishima grabbed the blonde's other hand and now holding both of his hands, Bakugou's face turned red as Kirishima gave him a soft smile, " I remember all those days we trained together, studied together, fought crazy villains together...and every time we were together...my feelings grew and grew that it was crazy."

Bakugou watched the other's movements.

Kirishima's voice wavered, but he didn't look away. "Do you remember that time I avoided you for three days?"

"Tch. Yeah," Bakugou muttered, his arms crossed like armor. "That shit pissed me off."

Kirishima smiled sadly, the edges of it heavy with regret. "Yeah... well... that was because I genuinely thought you hated me. I convinced myself you were done with me. And it got so bad I—" He swallowed hard. "—I kinda had a breakdown."

Bakugou stiffened, his whole body freezing like someone had just splashed cold water over him. "What?" His voice was barely audible.

Kirishima looked down at his hands, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. "The point isn't to make you feel bad, Katsuki. It's not. I just... I need you to know how much you matter to me. How much your opinion, your words... they get to me. Because I care. Because I've always cared."

There was a long pause.

"Why..." Bakugou's voice cracked before he could harden it again. "Why would you think I hated you?"

Kirishima shrugged, forcing a weak laugh, like he could laugh it off if he tried hard enough. "I-I don't know, I guess..."

"Eijiro."

Bakugou's voice cut through the air — not sharp, not angry, just... real. Like it was the first time he'd ever said his name with that much care.

Kirishima looked up slowly. Their eyes met.

He exhaled. "Because... you told me I was annoying. That I was always in your space. You'd just failed the Provisional License Exam and I kept hovering, and... I guess I read too much into it. You snapped at me. I get it now, you were upset, but back then..." He hesitated, the words trembling on the edge of his lips. "I thought I pushed you away. And the thought of you hating me just... it broke something in me."

Bakugou's eyes widened.

He remembered now — the look Kirishima had after that argument, the way he quietly disappeared for a few days, how the dorm felt weirdly colder without his laugh echoing through it. He had noticed. He just hadn't known what it meant.

Before Kirishima could say another word, Bakugou surged forward without thinking, wrapping both arms around his neck in a tight, sudden hug. His forehead buried in Kirishima's shoulder.

Kirishima froze, startled. He hadn't expected it — not from Bakugou, not like this.

"Kat—wait, I didn't mean—"

"I'm sorry," Bakugou murmured, voice muffled, thick with emotion. "I didn't know. I didn't mean to make you feel like that."

Slowly, tentatively, Kirishima wrapped his arms around him in return, hands sliding up to Bakugou's back and holding him gently, firmly.

"I know," he whispered. "I know you didn't."

Bakugou pulled back just a little, enough for their eyes to meet again. His face was flushed, his brows drawn together, but there was no heat. Just guilt. Just honesty.

"I haven't been a good friend," he admitted quietly. "Hell, I've been an even worse boyfriend."

Kirishima blinked, startled. "What? No, Katsuki—"

"No, listen." Bakugou shook his head. "I got mad over some middle school crush. I got jealous when I didn't even know how to say how I felt. I snapped. I pulled away when I should've pulled you closer. And I just... I've never been in something like this before, Ei. I don't know how to do it right."

His voice cracked again at the end. But this time, he didn't look away.

Kirishima's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. He lifted a hand and rested it gently against Bakugou's cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing under his eye.

"Kat... you don't have to know how to do everything perfectly. That's not what love is about. It's about trying, even when it's messy. Especially when it's messy. I've never wanted perfect — I just want you. Just you."

Bakugou leaned into his touch instinctively, eyes fluttering closed.

"I've spent my whole life being told I had to be the best," he murmured. "Had to be the strongest. The number one. And for a long time, I thought that meant I couldn't need anyone. Couldn't feel anything. But then... you came along."

Kirishima smiled gently. His chest ached, but this time in the good way — the overwhelming kind of ache that comes from loving someone so much it spills out of you.

Bakugou opened his eyes again, raw and unguarded. "You didn't try to change me. You never made me feel like I was too much. You just... saw me. Even when I didn't deserve it."

"I always saw you, Katsuki," Kirishima whispered. "Even when you tried to push me away."

They stayed like that for a moment — a stillness wrapped in warmth.

Then Bakugou reached for his hand again and squeezed it tight. "I lost my shit when I thought you and Mina had a thing going because... the idea of losing you? It scared the hell out of me. You're the only one who makes me feel real. Like I'm more than just some ticking time bomb."

Kirishima felt tears prick his eyes. He blinked them back, but a few slipped loose anyway.

"You're not a bomb, Katsuki," he said gently. "You're the bravest, strongest person I know. But even the strongest need someone to lean on sometimes. And I want to be that for you. I want us to lean on each other."

Bakugou looked stunned for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I want that too."

A beat passed before Kirishima grinned. "So... are we okay?"

Bakugou snorted, crossing his arms — but he didn't pull away. "Only if you're not hiding any more secrets."

Kirishima lit up. "Yup! Well—okay, I still sleep with my childhood shark plushie, but that doesn't count. And I pretend to like bitter coffee around you 'cause I thought it was more mature. Oh! And I binge those trashy romance anime when I miss you and I'm not man enough to admit it out loud. Also—"

Bakugou clapped a hand over his mouth, laughing. "Oh my god, Ei."

Kirishima laughed into his palm, eyes sparkling.

When Bakugou finally dropped his hand, Kirishima leaned forward, voice soft as snowfall.

"I want to do better too, Kat. For you. For us."

Bakugou's throat bobbed as he swallowed, and for a long second, he just looked at Kirishima. His eyes were molten—not with anger, but with something heavier, deeper. Like he was still learning how to hold all of this.

"I'll be... less harsh," he muttered, and it sounded like a vow wrapped in gravel. Like it hurt a little to say, but he meant every word.

They smiled at each other—tentative, fragile things—but real. Honest.

"May I kiss you?" Kirishima asked, barely above a whisper.

Bakugou's face turned redder than a stocking hung by the fire. He scoffed, but it lacked bite. There was no sharpness to it—just flustered affection. "You're such an idiot," he muttered, and then, quieter, shy like snowfall melting into skin, "Yes."

Kirishima leaned in, and when their lips met, it was slow and patient—like a promise whispered between heartbeats. It was warm, grounding. A kiss not meant to prove anything, but to share everything. Not perfect. Not polished. Just... them.

And somehow, that made it more perfect than anything else.

For the briefest moment, nothing existed outside their little world of string lights, muffled snow outside the window, and the quiet thud of two hearts learning to beat in sync.

Until Kirishima gasped and pulled away, wide-eyed. "Oh crap! I forgot—I still haven't given you your gift!"

Kirishima was already scrambling off the bed.

" You got me a gift?" Bakugou raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah! I gotta grab it—hold on!"

The red-haired boy quickly ran out of Bakugou's room, the soft click of the door barely breaking the calm silence. Bakugou stayed where he was for a moment, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glanced under his bed.

His hand reached back and rummaged through the shadows until it grasped a box—medium, wrapped in red ribbon, a little dusty from days of keeping it hidden away.

" I got it!"

Bakugou quickly hid the box behind his back just as Kirishima reentered the room, closing the door with a playful smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Oh? So you got a gift too?" Kirishima teased, climbing onto the bed, the corners of his mouth lifting into a cheeky grin.

" So what? I guess you can say I got a secret santa for myself," Bakugou smirked.

Kirishima groaned dramatically. "Please stop." He flopped onto the bed beside him, nudging the air between them.

"Why the hell would you take advice from that Tape-Face dumbass?"

"Hey! In my defense," Kirishima replied, sitting up just enough to give Bakugou a pointed look, "he said I should try something romantic. The rest? Totally me."

Bakugou raised a brow, clearly unimpressed. "That was your idea of romantic?"

" I don't know, it was cute in my mind-just open your present!" Kirishima huffed as he handed the boy a small box.

With a reluctant scoff, Bakugou took the small box from Kirishima. The wrapping was messy—orange paper haphazardly taped together—but that only made it more endearing. Bakugou chuckled softly, a rare softness in his eyes.

He pulled a medium-sized box from behind his back and tossed it to Kirishima. It was neatly wrapped with bright red paper, tied with a dark crimson ribbon, perfectly the opposite of his own hastily wrapped gift.

" Here."

Kirishima's eyes lit up as he caught the box, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Okay, let's open at the same time."

Bakugou nodded, his usual scowl softening.

" Ready? Set...open!"

Kirishima opened his quickly as Bakugou was slower. When Kirishima opened his present, he gasped.

" Oh my god, the rare limited Crimson Riot hoodie!" He squealed as he hugged the hoodie.

Bakugou gave him a soft smile, " I taken you like it Ei."

Kirishima's eyes sparkled, " Like it?! I love it!"

Bakugou's face blush as he opened his box, " Well that was hard to find so you better wear-"

He stopped once he saw the red hair putting on the hoodie, Kirishima smile never faded away.

" I love it dude!"

Bakugou blinked before he blushed, " Whatever."

Kirishima smiled, " Come on Kat, open it! Open it!"

Bakugou scoffed, " What are you? Five?"

" You open like a grandpa," Kirishima snorted.

Finally, he opened the box—and froze.

Nestled inside was a sleek, silver necklace. The pendant? All Might's Silver Age cape emblem, subtly crafted but unmistakable. He stared at it in stunned silence.

"That era..." Bakugou breathed.

Kirishima grinned, his nerves bubbling.

"I hope you like it! I remember you saying you liked that era best. The design isn't too flashy—so you can wear it and still look badass."

Bakugou's fingers brushed over the pendant, his expression unreadable.

The Silver Age. The era with all the old-school fights. The costume Bakugou always said was the coolest. The version of All Might that made him believe he could be the strongest.

He hadn't told anyone that in years.

"...How the hell did you know?" he asked, voice quieter now.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck."Uh, well... whenever you went to the bathroom or stepped out, I'd look around a little. Not in a creepy way! I just noticed you had more Silver Age merch than anything else. So I did some digging. Research. Kinda became a mission."

Bakugou blinked at him, eyes wide and almost unguarded for once. The noisy bustle of the party outside seemed to fade away, replaced by the quiet intimacy between them. For a long moment, he said nothing—just stared at Kirishima like he was seeing him for the very first time.

Then, his voice came, low and almost fragile. "Thank you, Eijiro."

Kirishima felt heat rise to his cheeks. "O-Oh, it was nothing, really—" He tripped over his words, caught off guard by the sudden softness.

Bakugou cut in, voice rough but sincere, "Help me put it on?"

Kirishima froze for a heartbeat—his heart pounding—before nodding eagerly. "S-Sure."

Carefully, as if handling something precious, Kirishima leaned forward. His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted the delicate chain around Bakugou's neck, gently clasping the clasp. When he pulled back, the silver pendant rested neatly against the blonde's chest, gleaming under the soft glow of the Christmas lights.

"You like it, Kat?" Kirishima asked quietly, eyes searching.

Bakugou's gaze dropped to the pendant, fingers brushing over the etched silver letters with a reverence that made Kirishima's chest tighten. His lips parted slightly, but for once, he didn't rush to say anything. Instead, his gaze lifted slowly to meet Kirishima's, steady and sincere.

"Yeah. I really do," he said, voice low and sure.

Kirishima's breath caught. His heart thundered in his ears—a wild, warm rhythm of disbelief and hope. "I'm glad," he whispered. "I really... I hoped you did."

Bakugou's gaze flicked to Kirishima's lips, lingering there for a heartbeat, before settling back on his eyes. Then, almost without thinking, he leaned in closer—slow, deliberate. No explosions, no shouting, just a quiet closeness charged with meaning.

And then he leaned in and kissed him.

This kiss was different—slower, deeper. Not impulsive or uncertain, but firm and steady, full of intention and promise.

When he finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, and a faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth.

"Still got a crush on her now?" he teased, voice rough but soft beneath the edge.

Kirishima snorted, shaking his head with a bright, teasing smile. "Not even a little."

"Good," Bakugou muttered, pulling Kirishima back against him. His arms curled up around Kirishima's shoulders, holding him close—grounding him—claiming him in a way that spoke louder than any words could.

Kirishima melted against him, no hesitation, no fear—just a warmth that spread through every part of him. His arms wrapped tight around Bakugou's waist, fingers digging in like he never wanted to let go.

"Merry Christmas, Kat," he whispered, his breath warm against Bakugou's ear.

Bakugou let out a small, almost shy laugh, forehead pressing against his. "Merry Christmas, Ei," he murmured back.

In that moment, the world outside—the falling snow, the twinkling lights, the distant laughter—didn't matter.

It was just them. Two boys held together by warmth, stubbornness, and something deep and true—love.

Chapter 20: Todoroki’s Birthday

Notes:

Y'all I'm cooking another Seroroki fic...and I fear it'll be too good.

But of course this one is on my top priority!

Enjoy!

Todoroki's POV

Today is my birthday.

It feels the same as any other day—just with a different number attached to my age.

Fifteen.

I stood in front of the mirror this morning, brushing my hair, staring at my reflection like it might somehow feel different.

Like it might show. But I looked exactly the same. No sparkles. No fanfare. Just... me. A little taller. A little quieter. A little more tired.

Birthdays have never really mattered to me. They came and went like the seasons—inevitable, unremarkable. The only consistency was Fuyumi's lopsided cake, always frosted too thick on one side.

Natsuo would call and sing the birthday song too loudly, with purposefully wrong lyrics that made Fuyumi laugh and me crack a smile. If I was lucky, I'd get to speak to my mother.

Those were the best ones. Quiet. Safe. Gentle in a way life rarely is.

My father never made me train on my birthday. It wasn't kindness. Just... tradition. Or guilt, maybe.

I never really knew what to do with the day. I didn't dread it. I didn't celebrate it. It just existed.

But this year... this year feels different.

We've been on break from U.A. for about a week now. I thought I'd spend it training, working at my father's agency—maybe visiting my mother in the hospital. All the usual rhythms of my break routine.

Instead of just doing all of that... Hanta's already somehow convinced me to hang out with him three times. And I wanted to. Voluntarily. Every single time.

I used to think I was too quiet, too cold, too difficult to be around. But Hanta just... shows up. With a smile and jokes and a stupid little skip in his step like I'm the best part of his day. He says he's not sick of me.

That he likes being around me.

And every time he says it, something unfamiliar stirs inside me—light, slow, unthawing. Like spring cracking through a frozen lake.

I'm not used to that. I'm not used to feeling... good.

But with Hanta, the noise in my head—the guilt, the old rage, the jagged static—it gets quieter. Not gone. But hushed. Manageable. When I'm with him, I don't feel like a project someone needs to fix. I don't feel like a walking bruise. I feel... real. Whole.

I sat by the window this morning, my breath fogging up the glass. Outside, snow drifted down in soft, lazy spirals—tiny flecks of peace falling from a quiet sky. It reminded me of that first winter after my mother left. When I didn't know how to be okay. When everything felt like punishment.

Now, I have this strange calmness. Like life doesn't always have to hurt.

I've been interning with Endeavor over break. I thought being around him—and Midoriya, too—might stir something up. Anger. Resentment. Pain. The usual. But this time... there was nothing. Not numbness. Just... a steady absence. I even said hello to Midoriya.

That's how I knew I'd changed.

And being with Hanta... it's like the tether I had to Midoriya finally snapped. Clean. Painless.

I used to think I loved Midoriya. He was my first boyfriend, after all. He made me laugh. He understood me in ways no one else had. But looking back...

I think I mistook admiration for love.

Because love—real love—is how I feel when I see Hanta smile and something behind my ribs aches, not from pain but from warmth. From the sheer fact that he exists and somehow wants me.

I shook my head, trying to clear it. No. I can't say that word. Not even in my own head. I said too much, too soon once. With Midoriya. It ended with broken promises and too many apologies. I'm not ready to risk that again. Not with Hanta. He's too special.

He's like light filtering through the cracks in my armor—bright and unexpected. And maybe, if I let myself hope... he might be the first person to see what's underneath and not look away.

If I love him—if—I can't let him know.

My phone buzzed against the windowsill, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced down to see our class group chat lighting up with messages.

"Happy Birthday Todoroki!! 🎉🎂"

"Broooo you better party today!"

"Another year hotter Shoto Baby 🔥🧊" (That one was Mina, obviously.)

Even Bakugou texted. Though it just said: "Happy whatever." I could tell by the punctuation that Kirishima typed it.

I smiled faintly. I never thought I'd have friends like this.

Well—except for Mineta. We don't talk about Mineta.

Then, another name lit up my screen.

Hanta.

Again.

He'd already sent me twelve messages today. Including a chaotic voice memo of him singing "Happy Birthday" at full volume, switching to Spanish halfway through.

He rhymed "birthday" with "bae" at one point. I don't know what 'bae' means but he makes it work.

I've listened to it twice.

Okay. Four times.

That's just... Hanta. Loud. Sweet. Ridiculous. Mine.

A new message popped up:

Hanta:
Hey mi vida, I was wondering if you have anything planned? 🤗

Mi vida. My life.

He's been calling me that since we started dating. Every time I see it, I freeze. Not out of panic, but out of... softness. It settles in me like a blanket I never knew I wanted.

I typed back quickly.

Mi Vida 🤍❤️:
No.

His reply came instantly, as always.

Hanta:
Great! I was wondering if you wanted to spend your special day with me 😚

My chest fluttered. I looked around the empty room like someone might catch me smiling like an idiot.

Mi Vida 🤍❤️:
Sure.

Seconds later:

Hanta:
Perfect 🤩 Should I meet you at your place and we can walk to your surprise~?

I hesitated, eyes lingering on the door.

I was lucky today. No one else was home. If anyone was—if he was—I'd never let Hanta set foot in this house. He knows about my past. He knows what this place means. But I still don't think I could ever let him see it.

Mi Vida 🤍❤️:
Okay.

I stared at my phone for a moment before setting it down gently on my desk.

Then I stood and turned toward the closet, heart thudding a little faster now.

Time to pick something to wear.

Something casual. But something that says:
I like you more than anyone else on this planet.
Something that says:
I trust you to see me on my birthday—the real me.

And, if I'm being honest...

Something that'll make him smile the way he always makes me smile.

God...

I don't know what to wear.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

"CRAP! Where am I supposed to take him!?"

Sero was practically doing laps around his bedroom, panic seeping into every step as he pulled at the ends of his hair. His older sister, Aiko, lounged upside down on his bed, flipping lazily through a fashion magazine, completely unfazed by his crisis.

"Eres un idiota, no?" she muttered, eyes still glued to the glossy page.

(You're a dumbass, aren't you?)

Sero paused just long enough to shoot her a glare. "I'm sorry, okay!? I just got excited to spend time with my boyfriend on his birthday!"

Aiko turned a page with dramatic flair. "So you tell him you've got something planned—knowing full well you have no damn clue what that something is?"

"I—" Sero opened his mouth, then closed it like a caught goldfish. His shoulders slumped.

Aiko grinned without looking up. "Like I said. Eres un tonto."

(You are a fool)

With a groan, Sero collapsed onto his beanbag couch like a man defeated. "He's going to dump me."

Aiko sighed, tossing her magazine aside with a loud flap. "You're so dramatic. He's not going to dump you, but you can't just sit here moping either." She got up and crossed the room to flop beside him. "You gotta make some damn plans."

Sero peeked out from where he was face-down in a pillow. "How though? I usually have a plan but now! I suck!"

She nudged him with her knee. "Okay, start simple. What does he like?"

Sero sat up slowly, thinking hard. "Um... he likes quiet places. He reads a ton of action manga. Cold soba—he loves that stuff. Puzzles. Animals—especially cats. Scented candles. Tea. He has a sweet tooth. And—oh!" He suddenly smiled, eyes lighting up. "He's always wanted to learn gardening. And he's really smart. And strong. And kind. And he—"

He stopped when he noticed Aiko looking at him with a smug grin.

"Ay Dios mío, you are down so bad."

Sero blushed and grabbed a cushion, lightly whapping her with it. "Shut up!"

She laughed and pulled him into a tight hug, ruffling his hair. "Ay, mi hermanito~ You are so in love~ I'm actually getting cavities just listening to you."

( My little brother)

Sero tried to squirm away. "I'm not—! Ugh, I mean—I just... I want it to be special, okay?"

"Mmhm," she hummed, still clinging to him like an annoying older sibling. "But you didn't deny it~"

Sero groaned as he rubbed his flushed cheeks. "Are you gonna help me or what?"

Aiko leaned back and stretched. "Let's see... you said he likes quiet?"

"Yup."

"And animals?"

"Especially cats," Sero nodded.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, a slow smirk spreading across her face. "I think I've got the perfect place."

Sero sat up straighter. "Wait—really?!"

"Yup," she said with a wink. "But you owe me bubble tea and I get to third-wheel for five minutes to make fun of you."

Sero rolled his eyes but smiled, already feeling less panicked. "Deal."

Aiko grinned. "Now, let’s go plan your adorable little love date, Romeo."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki stood just outside his estate gates, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his soft pink sweater. It was slightly oversized, the sleeves brushing his knuckles, and the color—a warm blush hue—was something he would've never picked out for himself.

Paired with light-washed jeans and a tiny strawberry-shaped hair clip nestled in his bangs, he looked... soft.

But more importantly...

Nervous.

He never dressed like this. Not because he didn't like it—but because he didn't know how to. Half an hour ago, he'd been on the verge of panic, staring blankly into his closet as anxiety curled in his stomach.

Nothing felt right.

Everything felt too stiff or too formal or too plain.

Nothing felt right for a date with Hanta.

So, in a rare moment of desperation, he'd called Momo.

She hadn't even hesitated—within minutes, she helped him piece together the outfit over video call, walking him through each item with the kind of calm warmth only she could manage. He didn't even remember owning this sweater until she mentioned it. Fuyumi had gifted it to him last winter, insisting it brought out the gentler tones in his eyes.

And the strawberry clip?

A tiny gift from Momo during evaluations week, "for luck," she'd said with a smile.

Now, dressed and ready, he was standing alone, heart thudding quietly in his chest. Waiting.

He'd never been on a date for his birthday before.

Sure, he and Sero had been out on casual dates before—playful, easy outings full of laughter and teasing. But this felt different. Sero had mentioned something "special," and while Todoroki was touched, it left him feeling like his ribs were too tight around his lungs.

What if it was too much? What if he didn't know how to react? What if he froze up or said something awkward or... worse—what if he disappointed him?

This was his first birthday with a boyfriend. He wanted it to be good. He wanted to be good.

His gaze dropped to his wrist, where a delicate bracelet rested snugly against his skin—shiny, iridescent beads of white and orange catching the hallway light. It was the only piece of jewelry he ever wore willingly.

Hanta had given it to him.

There'd been two, actually. The second one was red and white—their colors reversed. Todoroki had insisted that Sero keep that one. "So we match," he'd mumbled, cheeks pinker than the sweater he now wore. And ever since, he wore his bracelet almost daily. Quiet proof of something soft and blooming.

Todoroki had never been the type to decorate himself. Too many things in his past had made him wary of attention, of expression, of mirrors.

But something about dating Sero changed that.

Slowly.

Patiently.

Piece by piece.

He touched the bracelet now, the cool beads grounding him. His nerves didn't disappear, but they softened at the edges.

He smiled—small, real—and didn't notice the warmth rising to his cheeks.

Then he heard it—a soft thrum of bass, low and warm, rolling in from down the driveway. A car was pulling up to the estate gates, its headlights washing golden light across the gravel.

It was a blue sedan, a little older, a little beat-up around the edges—but charming in the way old things were when loved.

Behind the wheel sat a woman—tan skin glowing under the dome light, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders, and a grin that could slice clean through silence. Her head bobbed to the rhythm of the music as if the night had already promised to be perfect.

She looked vaguely familiar.

Todoroki tilted his head just slightly—and then he saw him.

Sero.

The passenger door opened and out stepped the black-haired boy, bundled in a puffy jacket the size of a small planet, a burnt-orange beanie tugged low on his head. His black jeans were baggy, covered in silver chains that jingled softly as he moved, and his sneakers were bright—orange and white, like a bite of citrus on snow.

Todoroki's heart skipped. He looked so effortlessly cool.

Handsome.

So Hanta.

" You don't have to get out sis!"

" Oh come on~ You told me I could for five minutes~"

The boy groaned as he admired the Todoroki resident, " Whoa...I will never get over how huge this place is."

The woman leaned dramatically out of the driver's side window, curly hair bouncing, gold hoops swinging with every movement. "Dios mío! Lil bro, tienes un hombre rico!"

(My God! Lil bro, you got a rich man)

Todoroki tilted his head at her rapid Spanish, catching pieces, just enough to feel his ears warm.

The Sero glared at her. " Aiko!"

The woman just leaned further out of the window, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Do you not see this place, dude? This place is big as fuck! I thought Google Maps was lying to me!"

Sero planted his hand over his face. "Oh my fucking god—"

" Hanta!"

His name came like a soft breeze, and he turned to see Todoroki walking down the rest of the steps, sunlight brushing over him like something sacred. The pink sweater he wore was pastel and delicate, hanging loosely over a pair of fitted blue jeans. His hair, always a stunning split of white and red, had a tiny strawberry clip nestled in the white strands, glinting faintly in the sun.

Every step Todoroki took was elegant but hesitant, like he wasn't used to being seen this way—like he was still testing the waters of being soft, being cute.

Sero's breath caught.
His brain turned into white noise.
Like a static television.

'That's my boyfriend. That's actually my boyfriend. Holy shit.'

"Hanta?"

Todoroki's soft voice cut through his trance, head tilted slightly, those uniquely mismatched eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

Sero blinked like he was rebooting. His mouth opened and closed before his brain clicked back into gear. "Y-Yep! Never better, mi vida!"

His voice cracked.

'Kill me now.'

"You look very..." he tried again, voice quieter now. "Beautiful, by the way. I—I love the strawberry hair clip. It looks... really good on you."

Todoroki blinked. A twitch at the corners of his lips—a smile, small but real—and a blush bloomed on his cheeks, matching the pink of his sweater in a way that was downright unfair.

Sero's brain short-circuited again.

Then a voice pierced the moment. "Ohhhh my God. Is that him?"

Sero turned just in time to see Aiko hop out of the car like she was stepping onto a runway, not a parking lot.

She wore high-waisted black jeans with dramatic flare, glossy heeled boots, a cropped hoodie with silver chains stitched along the sleeves, and more rings than fingers. Her hair bounced in soft, styled curls as she moved, the sunlight catching the gold tints in her hoops and layered necklaces. She practically radiated Y2K chaos and confidence—and she was beaming directly at Todoroki.

"Hanta, who's that?" Todoroki asked softly, his voice edged with curiosity.

Sero sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, already bracing himself. "This is my—"

"Oh my gosh! Hi!" Aiko interrupted like a whirlwind dipped in vanilla perfume and cheerfulness, striding toward them with the energy of someone who refused to be introduced second. "I'm Aiko Marisol Sero~ but everyone calls me Aiko~"

Sero groaned under his breath. "Dude. We talked about this. Boundaries."

Aiko waved a perfectly manicured hand like she was shooing away a fly. "Boundaries are for boring people, baby bro. And this," she turned to Todoroki with her entire face lighting up, "is the boy you will not—cannot—shut up about? Now that makes sense."

Todoroki blinked, posture still and polite, lips parting slightly. "Um... thank you?"

Aiko gasped. "Oh, and you have manners? A polite and pretty man? Where did you find him, Hanta? Did you bribe him to go out with you or just get lucky for once?"

Sero groaned, "Please stop."

She kept going. "And that hair? Babe, iconic. Is that your natural color, or did you fall out of a shoujo manga?"

Todoroki tilted his head, confused but unbothered. "...Natural?"

Aiko laughed, a melodic, teasing trill. "Is that your real hair color? Like since birth, mi amor?"

Todoroki blushed at the nickname but he nodded slowly. "Yes."

Aiko squealed. "Oh wow, baby bro! Tienes un hombre rico que sabe peinar y es súper lindo—estoy impresionada. Literalmente te gustaban los perdedores, pero este es una monada."

(You got yourself a rich man who knows how to style himself and is super cute—I'm impressed. You literally used to like losers, but this one is a cutie)

Sero's face turned scarlet. "Aiko!"

Todoroki blinked. "...Loser?"

Aiko gasped theatrically. "Oh my god, you understood that?!" She turned to Sero like he'd handed her a birthday cake. "You taught him Spanish?! Hanta, I'm in awe. I didn't think you had it in you."

Todoroki flinched slightly but nodded. " Hanta's been teaching me. I'm still learning."

Aiko looked like she'd just fallen in love with both of them. "Do you know how many of his crushes wouldn't even try to learn our mom's language? Ugh, I could kiss you. But I won't. Unless you're into that. Which would be a little weird. And illegal."

"Aiko!" Sero groaned, covering his face with both hands. "You're literally the worst."

"You brought your boyfriend into my car. That means I'm in the origin story now." She just laughed, unapologetic, and spun on her heel with the drama of a soap opera villain making a glamorous exit. "Let's go, lovebirds~ I gotta hit the gas or we're gonna miss our slot!"

She strutted back toward her car with all the grace of a runway model, leaving the boys blinking after her.

Sero turned back, groaning. "I wish I was the eldest..."

Todoroki tilted his head again. "Hanta?"

"Huh?"

"What's going on?"

"Oh." Sero scratched his cheek. "So... my sister needs to drive us. The place I picked is kinda far, and she has the only one who is willingly giving us a free ride since my older brother is a dick."

Todoroki fiddled with his bracelet, " Is it..." he sighed as he looked down at the ground.

Sero frowned as he rubbed the other's shoulder.
Todoroki lowered his eyes, thumb gently brushing his iridescent beads. "Is it just... us?"

Sero's heart twisted a little at how small those words sounded.

He stepped closer without hesitation, hand reaching to rub Todoroki's shoulder gently. His touch was light but grounding.

"What's wrong, mi vida?" he asked, softer now.

Todoroki's eyes flicked down, brushing his thumb along the iridescent beads—like it was something to hold onto. "I'm just not used to people. Especially like her. Talkative. Excited. It's a lot. And I don't really know how to... exist around that."

Sero's eyes softened. "She's not a stranger. She's my sister. But I get it. She's a lot. I swear though, she's just the ride. She won't be with us once we get there. It'll just be you and me."

Todoroki stayed quiet for a moment, then slowly nodded, a flicker of relief crossing his face. The tension in his shoulders eased just a bit.

Then Sero grinned and reached into his coat pocket. "Speaking of just us—Feliz cumpleaños, Shoto."

( Happy birthday)

He held out a small box wrapped in simple white paper, tied with a delicate gold string.

Todoroki blinked and took it carefully in both hands, as if it might break.

"You gave me another gift?"

Sero shrugged with a playful smirk. "Yup. It's your birthday. I reserve the right to spoil you."

Todoroki frowned, clearly conflicted. "I... I can't accept that. You sang to me and you already gave me this," he said, lifting his wrist to show the bracelet.

"Mi vida~" Sero wiggled his eyebrows dramatically, making Todoroki sigh—but the corners of his mouth twitched.

"You don't have to do all of this," Todoroki murmured as he started to untie the ribbon. "You've given me too much already."

Sero leaned in, resting his chin on Todoroki's shoulder with exaggerated affection. "Now what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't go a little over the top every now and then?"

"A normal one."

"Exactly. And who wants that?"

Todoroki gave him a flat look before turning back to the gift. He slowly lifted the lid—then froze.

Inside was a tiny plush keychain, soft gray-and-white fur, sleepy embroidered eyes, and little felt paws.

He knew this cat.

It looked exactly like the one he always sat with at the cat café on rainy days—the one that curled in his lap like it belonged there.

For a long second, Todoroki didn't speak. Just stared.

"I noticed how you always gravitated to that one," Sero said, suddenly shy. "Figured you might want a version you can carry around. You know... in case you need something soft."

Todoroki finally looked up, eyes wide and shining—not just with surprise, but something deeper. His fingers tightened gently around the plush.

"Hanta..." he said softly, the syllables laced with quiet reverence.

Sero blinked. "Wait—if you don't like it, I can totally—"

But he never finished the sentence.

Todoroki stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, slow and deliberate. No hesitation. He buried his face in Sero's shoulder, warm breath ghosting against his neck. The silence said everything words couldn't.

Sero stilled, then melted into the embrace, arms folding around Todoroki's waist.

He knew this kind of silence. This wasn't Todoroki being quiet out of discomfort. This was his way of feeling too much.

Todoroki's voice was barely audible.

"I love it, Hanta."

Sero closed his eyes, heart thudding like a drum in his ears. He kissed the top of Todoroki's head with a quiet, steady breath.

"I'm glad."

Todoroki slowly pulled back, just enough to meet his eyes. His cheeks were pink, lips parted, eyes shimmering faintly in the afternoon light. The smile he gave was small—barely there—but unmistakably genuine.

Then—

"OH MY GOD. You two are disgustingly cute!"

Both boys startled as a voice rang out from a car parked at the curb. They looked over and saw Aiko, hanging half out of the driver;s window with a smug grin plastered on her face.

"Mama is so gonna cry when she hears about this," she called gleefully. "But seriously, can we get moving? My heater sucks and I'm freezing my ass off out here!"

Sero groaned into his hands.

"She's never letting me live this down," he muttered.

"Not ever," Aiko confirmed sweetly, disappearing back into the car.

Todoroki blinked at her, then turned to Sero. "She's... energetic."

"Understatement of the year." Sero gave him a tired smile, then reached out and took Todoroki's hand, fingers interlocking with his own.

"Come on, Roki. Before she starts livestreaming our date."

Todoroki gave a small nod, clutching the plush cat to his chest like a lucky charm. For someone who once hated birthdays, he looked like he might be rethinking that.

As they walked toward the car, hand-in-hand, snow began to fall again.

Light. Soft. Quiet.

Just like Todoroki's smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh! And when Sero was un bebecito," Aiko laughed, twisting in her seat to look back, "he was such a little goofball. He used to swing from couch to couch like a monkey, and one time he broke the TV. My dad lost it. Funniest thing ever."

Sero groaned like he was physically in pain, forehead pressed against the passenger-side window. "Why are you like this?" he muttered.

He'd survived villain attacks, grueling internships, and Todoroki's silent judgment during dorm cleaning duty. But nothing compared to the slow psychological torment that was thirty minutes of Aiko's gleeful humiliation parade—directed right at his boyfriend.

Todoroki, meanwhile, sat in the backseat like some kind of wide-eyed anthropologist who had just discovered an extremely loud, extremely affectionate species of sibling

"Oh! And then there was that time when he first got his quirk, he tried use his tape to climb the fridge 'cause he couldn't reach the top shelf—pants fell down mid-climb and—"

Sero sat up with a horrified shout, face turning a violent shade of red. "Aiko, shut the hell up!!"

Todoroki blinked. He had never seen Sero so angry. Not even when Kaminari had eaten the last bag of chips in the dorm.

Aiko didn't even flinch. She casually reached for her iced coffee, took a slow sip, then arched a brow. "No me hables así o le diré a mamá que tuviste ese vaporizador en la secundaria."

(Don't talk to me like that or I'll tell Mom that you had that vape in middle school)

Sero went rigid, eyes wide. "...You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," she said, smirking over her straw.

Todoroki blinked again, slowly this time, as if processing that these two had definitely been born under the same roof. Watching them fight was like watching two pro-heroes spar: chaotic, fast, and weirdly affectionate underneath all the yelling.

But he had to admit... it wasn't unpleasant. Loud, yes. But oddly... comforting.

As if her chaos hadn't already peaked, Aiko perked up again.

" Oh that reminds me, Todoroki! Isn't your dad like the number one hero now, that's super cool!" She asked as she looked through the rearview mirror to the red and white haired boy in the backseat.

Todoroki's entire posture changed. His body stiffened, his gaze turned distant, and the previously relaxed line of his shoulders went sharp, closed off. "...Yeah," he said flatly.

Aiko blinked. The mood shift in the car was instant.

Sero reached across and smacked her arm. "Ow, what the hell?!"

"Shut up, dude," Sero hissed under his breath, voice low. "Seriously."

Aiko glanced back through the mirror, her smile slipping as she caught the blank look on Todoroki's face. "Oh. Shit. Right," she said quickly. "My bad."

She straightened in her seat, cleared her throat, and tried again with a forced cheerfulness. "Sooo! How'd you guys meet?"

Sero sighed, deflating. "Class. Dorms. That's it."

But Aiko wasn't done. She turned her grin back on Todoroki. "Did you know, by the way, that Hanta was like obsessed with you after the Sports Festival? I swear, he kept watching the footage of your match over and over. And not in, like, a tactical analysis way. Like a crushing hard kinda way."

Todoroki furrowed his brow slightly as his cheeks turned bright red, clearly not sure how to respond to that.

"Oh my god," Sero groaned, hiding his face in both hands. "Can you not?"

"And our Mama?" Aiko went on, clearly ignoring him. "She was furious, by the way. Said you basically tried to murder her 'sweet baby boy.' She actually emailed the school demanding an apology. Wanted to drive straight there and sue. She still talks about it—every time your name's on TV, she side-eyes the screen like she's got a personal vendetta. If you ever meet her? Run."

Todoroki looked mildly alarmed, his polite composure faltering just a little. Sero caught the expression and glared at his sister.

"Por qué estás siendo tan molesto!?"

( Why are you being your annoying self)

Aiko raised both hands in surrender, glancing at him with a sheepish grin. "Lo siento, lo siento! I'm just excited, okay?"

( I'm sorry, I'm sorry)

She turned her eyes back to the road, voice softening. "Todoroki, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just... seeing my baby brother smile like this? With someone who makes him look that happy? It makes me happy, too. I like you, even if you're the quiet type. I'm just trying to get to know you."

Todoroki looked up, a little stunned by her honesty.

"...It's okay," he said quietly. "You're just... loud."

Sero snorted.

Aiko burst out laughing. "Girl, I know. Comes with the territory."

Sero groaned dramatically, dragging his hoodie up over his head to hide. "Can we please skip to the part where you drop us off and never speak to me again?"

Just then, the familiar street came into view and Sero nearly cried with relief.

"Fucking finally."

Aiko snorted, flipping her blinker on. "Love you too, bro."

Todoroki smiled faintly from the backseat, a little overwhelmed but also quietly amused. For all the chaos... it felt weirdly nice.

Aiko exhaled and tapped the steering wheel. "So what time am I picking you up?"

"Might ask Kael..." Sero muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Aiko's head snapped toward him like he'd just insulted her ancestors. "What? Why him? I'm not that bad."

"You are literally the worst," Sero said flatly, opening the door.

"Excuse you, I'm charming," she huffed, then gestured toward Todoroki with her thumb. "And let's be real—you really want him stuck in a car with Kael? That idiot somehow manages to be more annoying than me."

Todoroki tilted his head, curious about this new name. " Who's Kael?"

Sero sighed as if just saying the name gave him a headache. "My older brother. He's in a different high school. And he thinks he's better than everyone because he won a debate tournament in, like, sixth grade."

"And he has a superiority complex the size of Musutafu Tower," Aiko chimed in with a click of her tongue. "He once tried to argue with a GPS, Todoroki. A GPS."

Todoroki blinked slowly. "...Sounds...Familiar."

Aiko lit up. "See? You get us!" She waved them toward the door. "Y'all can get out now. I'll be back in three hours. I need to get my nails done and pretend I'm not emotionally exhausted from babysitting you two."

Sero scoffed as he stepped out of the passenger seat, muttering under his breath. He circled around and opened the back door with a dramatic flourish. "Come on, mi vida," he said, offering Todoroki his hand like a prince escorting his date to a royal ball.

Todoroki blinked, a little surprised by Sero's uncharacteristic agitation. Usually, he was the calm one—laid-back, steady. But apparently, his sister had a special talent for getting under his skin.

He could relate.

Accepting Sero's hand, Todoroki stepped out of the car, still holding the tiny cat keychain he'd been gifted earlier pressed gently to his chest.

Then—

HOOONK.

A car horn blared behind them.

They both flinched and turned around.

Aiko had her window rolled down, phone raised triumphantly. "Oi! You didn't let me get a picture!"

Sero's face went crimson. "Aiko, stop! Oh my god—"

"Say cheese!"

Click!

"You're the worst," Sero muttered.

Aiko winked. "Have fun, you two! And Todo~ I'm putting that pic in the family group chat. You're part of the Sero chaos now!"

Before either of them could reply, the window slid shut with a snap and Aiko sped off, tires crunching loudly over the gravel like some kind of dramatic mic drop.

Sero groaned and slapped both hands over his face, dragging them down in defeat. "I swear she was designed in a lab specifically to humiliate me. Like—I'm talking evil genius level."

Todoroki tilted his head, quietly observing him, then looked down at their hands—still gently twined together. "Why did your sister call me 'Todo'?"

Sero let out a long, theatrical sigh as they started walking down the sidewalk. "She makes up weird nicknames when she likes someone. It's her thing. I think she called Denki 'Zap-Face' when he first came over."

He glanced cautiously over his shoulder, just in case Aiko did decide to circle the block for round two. "Come on, let's get out of here before she starts throwing embarrassing childhood stories out the window like confetti."

Todoroki gave a tiny, amused nod and followed close behind. His fingers stayed curled with Sero's, their joined hands swinging between them in an easy, slow rhythm. It was small, subtle, but it felt natural—like it had always been meant to be that way.

He thought about the nickname again, and his lips twitched into a faint, thoughtful smile.

He didn't mind being called "Todo."

Not even a little.

Sero peeked over at him again, clearly still flustered, his cheeks just the softest shade of pink. "You're unreal, you know that?"

Todoroki blinked, then tilted his head. "Why?"

Sero looked away for a second, gathering the words, then gave a crooked smile. "Because you're somehow the calmest person I've ever met... and also the one who makes my heart explode just by looking at me. It's not fair. I'm like—out here trying to breathe and you're just existing."

Todoroki paused, heart beating a little faster now.

Then—he smiled. Soft. Warm. The kind of smile he reserved for only a few people. "That makes two of us."

Sero stared at him, stunned for a moment, before grinning so hard his eyes crinkled at the corners.

The world around them—the cars, the gravel, even the lingering echo of Aiko's shout—seemed to fade into nothing.

What lay ahead was quiet.

Warm.

Steady.

They walked on.

Hand in hand.

And neither one let go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Whoa..."

Todoroki's voice was hushed, filled with wonder that seemed to echo in the quiet stillness around them.

Sero smiled, watching him more than the massive creature in the water. His thumb moved in slow, soft circles over the back of Todoroki's hand—steady, gentle, familiar. "Isn't he cool, mi vida?"

Todoroki nodded slowly, lips parted, his eyes wide and shining with quiet awe. "I've never seen one up close before."

They stood side by side, their shoulders brushing, their noses almost pressed against the cool glass of the enormous tank. The whale shark drifted past them, slow and regal, its vast body gliding like it had all the time in the world. Its speckled skin sparkled under the soft blue lights above, like constellations drifting across the ocean floor—celestial and ancient and beautiful.

Everything was quiet. The kind of quiet that hummed gently, wrapping around them like a deep, cozy blanket. The rhythmic bubble of filters and the occasional distant echo of footsteps were the only things breaking the silence.

"...He's calming," Todoroki murmured. His voice was low and reverent, as if anything louder would shatter the delicate peace around them.

Sero turned his head slightly, his eyes tracing the soft pink flush dusting Todoroki's cheeks. But more than that—he was looking at how relaxed he seemed. How unguarded.

"Kind of like you," Sero said, voice warm and fond.

Todoroki blinked, caught off guard. His gaze flicked to Sero, that soft blush deepening. "I'm not that big."

Sero let out a quiet snort, their shoulders bumping gently. "Not what I meant, dummy. I mean your presence. You've got this quiet strength. Like... the world could be falling apart, and people would still feel safe if they were standing next to you."

Todoroki looked back at the whale shark, thoughtful. "I don't always feel like that."

"You don't have to," Sero said, his voice softer now. He leaned in a little, their foreheads nearly touching. "That's what friends—what partners—are for. To remind you of the things you forget."

There was a pause. Not heavy—just full.

And then, the corners of Todoroki's mouth lifted into something small, but real. "I like it here."

Sero turned his head slightly. "Yeah?"

Todoroki nodded. "It's peaceful. And... you're here."

Sero felt his heart twist happily in his chest. "Mi vida, you're gonna make me melt in front of this majestic fish."

And then—

SPLASH!

A stingray flopped dramatically across the sandy floor of the tank, sending a burst of bubbles upward. A nearby group of kids squealed and laughed in surprise.

Todoroki blinked, startled, his eyes tracking the stingray as it wobbled in an adorably clumsy arc.

"...That one reminds me of Kaminari."

Sero burst out laughing, bending at the waist, clutching his stomach. "Oh my god, yes! Floppy. Chaotic. Somehow charming and weirdly fast when food is involved."

Todoroki chuckled quietly—barely more than a breath, but the sound made Sero's heart skip.

In the dim blue glow, that rare smile of his looked like sunlight cutting through deep water.

Everything felt gentle. Easy. Soft.

This... this was Todoroki's ideal kind of date.

No crowds. No pressure. Just quiet, comfortable presence. Unspoken warmth. And Hanta—bright and silly and golden, who had planned the whole thing from start to finish for his birthday—made it feel like more than just a date. It felt like a memory Todoroki would carry in his pocket forever.

They meandered slowly, still holding hands, until they reached another tank. This one smaller, but no less mesmerizing.

"Look at this little guy, mi vida," Sero said, pointing at a sea turtle gliding through the water with unexpected speed and intention. "He's on a mission."

Todoroki didn't respond right away. He was too focused on the way Sero's eyes lit up when he was excited—how his whole face seemed to smile, not just his mouth. Like he couldn't help it. Like he was so full of joy it just spilled out everywhere.

He loved that about Hanta.

Loved how he shared his excitement so freely, like every beautiful thing in the world deserved to be seen together.

Todoroki's lips curved into a soft smile without thinking.

He leaned his head against Sero's shoulder, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces—effortless, natural, like they'd been shaped that way just for this. Sero's arm curled around him in return, instinctive and grounding.

Warm. Familiar.

Safe in the kind of way Todoroki had never really known growing up—but had come to recognize now, whenever Sero held him like this.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Just stood there, bathed in the soft blue glow of the tank, watching the sea turtle float through its endless artificial sea like a dream drifting by.

Then Sero's voice broke the quiet, tender and barely above a whisper. "Do you think sea turtles find soulmates?"

Todoroki blinked, letting the question sink in like a stone dropped into still water. "I'd hope so," he murmured.

"I like to think they swim for miles," Sero said, almost to himself now. "Just... across endless stretches of ocean. Looking and looking. And when they find the right one, they never leave. They just stay. Side by side. Forever."

Todoroki tilted his head, letting his gaze drift back to the tank.

He saw one sea turtle gliding through the water—slow and purposeful—and just as Sero spoke, a second one emerged from the far shadows, slipping into rhythm with the first like they'd been waiting for this moment all along. They didn't touch, but they moved in perfect sync, side by side in an unspoken togetherness that made Todoroki's chest tighten in the best kind of way.

He turned his head up to Sero, who was still watching the turtles with that far-off, soft smile he got when he was lost in thoughts he didn't always say out loud.

They swam all that way...

Todoroki felt a warmth unfurl deep in his chest, quiet and golden. 'Maybe I swam too,' he thought, eyes soft. 'And maybe I found my other sea turtle.'

He didn't say it out loud—he didn't need to. Some things didn't need words to be real.

So instead, he just stayed there, tucked under Sero's arm, full of the kind of peace that settled in your bones and made you believe in gentle things.

A beat passed. Then two.

Sero's voice pulled him gently from his thoughts. "Mi vida, wanna go see the jellyfish next?"

Todoroki blinked up at him, still wrapped in the glow of Sero's words. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Sure."

This time, when they walked, Todoroki leaned closer on purpose—pressed into Sero's side like he belonged there. His hand curled tighter into Sero's, their fingers locking securely together. Not just holding. Holding on.

Sero didn't say anything. He just smiled quietly and gave his hand a soft squeeze.

' I'm here mi vida... I've got you.'

When they stepped into the jellyfish room, the world seemed to shift.

It was darker, quieter. As if they'd stepped into the cosmos itself. Dozens of jellyfish floated before them in the vast tank, aglow with bioluminescence—soft pulses of rose gold, lavender, moonlight blue. They drifted like stars suspended in ink, their movements slow and weightless, the delicate ribbons of their tendrils trailing like silk.

Todoroki stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. "...It feels like we walked into space."

"Right?" Sero whispered, just as enchanted. "Living stars. Floating peacefully, without a care in the world."

"They're kind of hypnotic..."

"They don't even have brains," Sero said, grinning. "They're just vibing. Like Denki on one of his good days."

That earned a very soft laugh from Todoroki. "Kaminari wishes he was this graceful."

Sero leaned in. "You're in a sassy mood today."

Todoroki tilted his head. "Maybe. I'm just... relaxed."

Sero smiled at that.

Mission accomplished.

"Good."

They stood there for a long while, shoulder to shoulder, letting the silence and glow wrap around them. The jellyfish floated on, their bodies glowing and fading like slow-breathing stars, like lullabies made of light.

"It's peaceful here," Todoroki whispered eventually, like he didn't want to disturb the magic.

Sero turned his head to look at him, his heart already soft. "You like peaceful."

"I like it more when you're part of it."

Sero felt his breath catch. 'Mi vida...'

He leaned in and whispered, "If you keep talking like that, I might propose right here. Let the jellyfish be our witnesses."

Todoroki blinked, his lips twitching with amusement. "Is that even legal?"

"We're heroes. We bend the rules for love."

"We're not full heroes yet," Todoroki reminded with a smirk.

"Which means," Sero said, wagging his brows, "we still have time for so many aquarium dates."

"You're ridiculous," Todoroki said, though the soft curve of his lips betrayed how fond he was about it.

"Ridiculously in awe of you? Guilty."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Todoroki's temple—gentle, reverent. And when he pulled away, Todoroki didn't move. He stayed, nestled in the space that felt like home, eyes half-lidded and full of peace.

"Come on," Sero said softly. "I want to show you my real favorites."

"Oh?" Todoroki tilted his head. "The jellyfish aren't your favorite?"

"They are," Sero replied with a grin, "but they're even better when I'm watching them with you. Still—there's one more tank I have to show you."

Todoroki's eyes narrowed playfully. "Are you always this cheesy?"

"With you? Absolutely."

Todoroki laughed, shaking his head fondly. "Okay. Take me."

And Sero did—his hand warm in Todoroki's, leading him deeper into the glow of the aquarium, where time seemed to move slower and everything sparkled just a little brighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their next stop was the otter cove—a longtime favorite of Sero's, ever since he was a kid and had first discovered just how ridiculous and wonderful those little water goblins could be.

As soon as they rounded the corner, a soft rush of cool, clean air kissed their faces. The scent of filtered saltwater lingered like a whisper of the ocean, and the low, rhythmic bubbling of the current created a hush, almost sacred atmosphere. It felt like entering a dream, slow and gentle.

Behind the thick glass, the otters were already in the middle of what looked like a chaotic water ballet. They zipped past one another in tight spirals, doing flips and twists like furry acrobats, some chasing each other in playful loops while others floated lazily on their backs, bellies exposed, as if the world could wait.

One chubby otter clutched a smooth pebble to its chest with both tiny paws, eyes half-lidded in bliss. Another launched itself from the edge with a little squeak, spun dramatically mid-air, and bellyflopped back into the pool like it deserved a perfect 10.

Todoroki stepped forward quietly, crouching slightly to get a closer look. His hands rested against the glass, and his breath fogged a little circle as he leaned in with wide, fascinated eyes.

"They hold hands when they sleep," he said softly, voice filled with quiet wonder, "so they don't float apart."

Sero, caught completely off-guard, made a noise in the back of his throat that was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. His heart might've actually done a somersault. "Okay. That's... that's illegal levels of adorable. Like—who gave them the right?"

Todoroki blinked slowly, still staring through the glass. "It's efficient," he said thoughtfully, as if he needed to ground the tenderness in logic. "But also... kind. They don't want to lose each other."

Sero's entire chest swelled with something warm and fizzy and so fond. He nodded, eyes soft. "Yeah. Kind is the perfect word."

For a few moments, they just stood together, shoulder to shoulder, watching the otters paddle and tumble and snack on ice cubes like tiny mischievous gremlins.

Then a particularly round otter suddenly popped up, swam directly into another's space, smacked it in the face with a casual paw-swipe, and floated away like nothing happened.

Todoroki pointed. "That one's Bakugou."

Sero snorted so hard it echoed off the walls. "Oh my god. You're so right. Violent little menace on the outside, cuddlebug on the inside."

Todoroki's lips twitched. A smirk bloomed—small but real, like catching the first pink light of dawn. His reflection in the glass showed the tiniest lift at the corners of his mouth, a rare and delicate thing, like the glimpse of a snowflake before it melts.

Then, in the water, one of the tiniest otters began copying a larger one's spin move. It flipped halfway, lost control, and bonked its nose gently against the glass with a muffled thunk. It blinked, stunned. And then, undeterred, tried again with even more determination.

Todoroki chuckled. A warm, low sound that made Sero's knees feel a little weak. He turned slightly to watch him, caught in the moment. The gentle aquarium light shimmered across Todoroki's face, casting watery shadows over his cheeks, making his eyes glimmer like soft moonlight over ice. The faint humidity had made strands of his hair curl ever so slightly at the ends.

He looked peaceful. And so happy. And just... Shoto—beautiful in a way that snuck up on you like a ripple spreading through calm water.

"You think they get embarrassed?" Todoroki asked suddenly, eyes never leaving the clumsy little otter.

Sero grinned. "If they do, that one's totally Mineta."

That made Todoroki laugh—a breathy, light sound that didn't come often enough, but when it did, it filled the space like sunlight breaking through clouds. He tilted his head back slightly as the laugh escaped, his shoulders shaking just a little.

Sero couldn't stop staring. He didn't want to.

Then, just as if the universe decided to gift them a perfect moment, two otters swam up from below, curling around each other like ribbons in water. They slowed, then floated on their backs, tiny paws laced together.

Todoroki's gaze softened, lips still curved.

Sero didn't say anything.

But he smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They wandered slowly through the aquarium, taking their time like they had all the hours in the world—which, for today, they absolutely did. Soft blue light from each tank cast a gentle oceanic glow over their faces, bathing them in hues of teal and sapphire as they drifted from exhibit to exhibit. The quiet hum of the tanks and the distant murmur of other visitors created a cozy bubble that felt completely separate from the busy world outside.

Their first pause was at the glowfish exhibit. Tiny, iridescent fish flickered like underwater fireflies, pulsing in waves of shimmering green and blue. Todoroki stood with his forehead nearly pressed to the glass, eyes wide and glazed with wonder. His breath fogged up a little patch as he stared.

Sero nudged him gently with an elbow, grinning. "That's what your eyes look like when you use both sides of your quirk at once."

Todoroki blinked slowly, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I'm flattered and confused."

Next, they ambled to the pufferfish tank. Suddenly, one of the little round fish ballooned into a spiky, angry beach ball, puffing itself up in a perfect defense.

"Oh my god," Sero laughed, clutching his sides, "he's me when Kirishima steals my snacks."

Todoroki's lips twitched in amusement. "That's... actually pretty accurate."

They moved on to the Japanese spider crab tank. The enormous, spindly creatures stretched their creepy long legs, moving slowly but with a strange elegance that was both fascinating and a little unsettling.

Todoroki froze, watching the creatures for a full minute before whispering with dry humor, "That's Iida during exam season."

Sero doubled over laughing. "With the pacing! And the twitchy limbs! You nailed it."

They both wheezed and wiped tears from their eyes, sharing the moment like old friends.

Rounding the corner, they came face-to-face with a blobfish — a gelatinous, squishy creature with a perpetually grumpy expression.

"I love him," Sero said with reverence, pointing. "He's perfect."

Todoroki smirked. "He looks like he's judging every single one of us."

"Exactly," Sero nodded sagely. "He gets me."

They attempted a selfie with the blobfish in the background. The picture was a blurry mess, but Sero didn't care—he promptly made it his new lockscreen.

They passed the leafy sea dragons next—delicate, wispy creatures drifting like underwater branches swaying in a gentle breeze. Todoroki leaned close, his breath fogging up the glass again.

Sero teased, "They look like you if you ever went through a nature phase."

Todoroki deadpanned, "I did. I tried to grow a cactus once."

Sero raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"It died."

Sero gave a mock gasp. "That explains a lot."

Their laughter echoed softly through the quiet halls until they reached the sea lion habitat. A round, somewhat grumpy sea lion lounged atop a warm rock, glaring at passersby with the expression of a disapproving elder.

"That's Present Mic when we're late to training," Todoroki said with a smirk.

"Stop it!" Sero gasped, clutching his ribs. "You're actually funny today!"

Todoroki shrugged. "I'm always funny. You just don't notice."

Sero raised an eyebrow dramatically. "Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?"

Todoroki tilted his head, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "You like this version better?"

"I like every version of you," Sero said warmly.

Todoroki quickly turned to the gift shop window nearby, pretending the penguin plush was suddenly fascinating as a soft pink bloomed across his ears.

As the aquarium settled into its peaceful evening lull, like the ocean itself was tucking the world in, they found themselves at the final, breathtaking exhibit—the underwater tunnel.

The vast glass archway stretched ahead, curving overhead, surrounding them like a magical passage beneath the sea. Soft light shimmered and danced, mimicking the gentle ripple of waves. Sea creatures drifted slowly above: a sleek shark passed silently, casting a lazy shadow. Schools of silver fish zipped past like shooting stars. Two sea turtles paddled side by side, gliding with effortless grace.

Todoroki slowed his steps, eyes drawn to a stingray sweeping by, its wings unfurling like a dark kite against the shimmering water.

"They're so graceful," he whispered, voice barely above a breath, awed and reverent.

Sero grinned, nudging him playfully. "Just like you when you zone out during training and pretend you're not dodging my tape on purpose."

Todoroki rolled his eyes, but leaned in closer, their shoulders touching, as if the gravity of this place pulled them together.

Their arms brushed, and without thinking, Sero looked down and gently laced their fingers together again—this time without asking. Todoroki's fingers curled immediately around his, a quiet but unmistakable promise.

They walked side by side, hand in hand, surrounded by a dreamscape of light and water. No words were needed. The soft hum of the pumps, the distant murmur of families leaving, and the watery world all around created a perfect stillness.

Todoroki glanced up as a manta ray glided slowly overhead, its massive wings casting a soft shadow that draped over them like a cozy blanket. He said nothing, but Sero caught a new softness in his gaze—open, calm, content.

It was like a steady light glowing quietly in the depths.

It wasn't time to say it yet, but the feeling was there, tucked between the gentle glances, the shared smiles, the warm squeeze of their hands.

It was there in the way Todoroki didn't pull away.

In the way he stayed close.

In the way he looked at Sero like he already knew.

And Sero, smiling quietly, held his hand just a little tighter—ready to swim alongside him, no matter how far the ocean stretched.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the very end of their aquarium visit, just as the sleepy blue light of the exhibits began to dim and the evening announcements hummed through the speakers, Sero gently tugged Todoroki's sleeve.

"Wait, we missed one thing," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He led Todoroki toward a corner of the building where soft giggles and high-pitched squeals echoed—the touch tank. It was a shallow, open pool rimmed with polished rocks, filled with swaying anemones, slow-moving starfish, and a few brave sea cucumbers lounging like royalty on the sandy bottom.

Little kids were clustered around the edge, reaching in with excited hands, chattering about how "squishy" and "wiggly" everything felt.

Todoroki stopped a few feet away, eyeing the tank like it might leap at him.

"That crab is looking at me," he muttered, almost suspiciously.

Sero grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement. "He's probably just impressed by your symmetrical bone structure."

Todoroki didn't laugh—but his lips twitched, which was basically a laugh in Todoroki-language.

"They're harmless," Sero added, nudging him forward gently with his shoulder. "Just soft and squishy. Like Denki's brain."

Todoroki glanced at him. "Kaminari's brain zaps people when it's startled."

"Okay," Sero admitted with a chuckle, "bad example. But I promise, no zaps here."

Still wary, Todoroki crouched down next to him. He leaned forward to peer at the water, expression tight with concentration. The crab he'd mentioned earlier skittered sideways behind a rock like it knew it had been called out. That seemed to give him enough courage.

Sero dipped his fingers in first and gently coaxed a small, bubblegum-pink starfish closer. The little creature clung to his hand like a polite passenger, its tiny tube feet undulating slowly beneath it.

"Hold your hand flat like this," Sero instructed softly, demonstrating again before guiding Todoroki's hand into the cool water.

Todoroki tensed slightly at the temperature, but his fingers remained steady. When the starfish brushed his palm, his eyes widened a fraction—not in fear, but wonder.

"It's... weirdly nice," he murmured, voice hushed like he didn't want to disturb the tiny life now gently crawling across his skin. "It's soft, but strong. Like—it's really gripping me."

Sero beamed. "Right? It's like a baby hug from nature."

A little kid next to them—maybe five years old, wearing a shark hoodie and holding a plastic bag of goldfish crackers—giggled and pointed. "The red guy looks scared!"

Todoroki blinked, glancing at the boy.

Sero snorted. "He's not scared. He's just processing emotions at a glacial pace."

Todoroki looked at him, deadpan. "I could throw you into this tank."

"Not with the starfish still on you. They'd be collateral damage."

That earned Sero a rare, soft huff of laughter—barely audible, but genuine. Todoroki stared at the starfish a little longer, then gently let it slide back into the water.

"See? You trusted me," Sero said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful.

Todoroki turned to him, eyes soft in the low light. "I do."

He said it so simply—without fanfare or embarrassment. Like it was just a fact, rooted and real.

And it made Sero's chest tighten. Not in a scary way. In that way that made him feel like something was blooming, slow and steady, just under the surface.

He smiled, hand brushing lightly against Todoroki's.

Todoroki didn't pull away.

Instead, he looked back at the tank and whispered, "I still think that crab was watching me."

Sero laughed so hard, he nearly fell in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When they finally stepped out of the aquarium, the world had softened into gold and lavender. The sky above was painted in warm streaks of orange, pink, and dusky purple, like watercolors bleeding into each other. Streetlights flickered on slowly, one by one, their soft yellow glow mixing with the fading natural light.

Sero and Todoroki walked side by side without speaking, the quiet between them comfortable and full. The buzz of the city felt far away out here. The only sounds were the chirping of early crickets and the gentle splash of koi in a nearby pond nestled beside the aquarium's exit path.

They paused at a bench tucked between two flowering bushe. The air was cool but pleasant, filled with the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine. Todoroki sat down first, brushing his hand along the smooth wooden bench like it was unfamiliar. Sero joined him, their shoulders brushing.

After a beat, Sero reached into his backpack and pulled out a tiny pastel-blue gift bag, decorated with a glittery sticker of a sea turtle.

Todoroki blinked and looked at him. "You already brought me here... and gave me a gift this morning. You didn't have to do more."

"I know," Sero said with a shy shrug. "But when you went to the bathroom...I couldn't resist. It's just one last thing."

Todoroki took the bag carefully, like it might be fragile. Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, was a tiny plush sea turtle—round and squishy, with big shiny eyes and a red satin ribbon tied neatly around its neck. It looked handmade, or at least specially picked. Thoughtful in every little way.

Todoroki stared at it, then slowly turned his gaze to Sero, blinking once.

Sero rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "I know it's cheesy. But... after that thing, you know... the soulmate sea turtles? It just kinda stuck with me. So I thought maybe... he could keep you company when I'm not around."

There was a pause. Todoroki didn't speak, but his hands cradled the plush with surprising gentleness, thumbs brushing over the ribbon like it was made of something precious.

Then—quietly, slowly—he leaned over and rested his head on Sero's shoulder. Not just for a second, but fully, softly, like he was settling in. His cheek was warm against Sero's arm.

Sero's chest fluttered. He closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips, and rested his head lightly against Todoroki's.

There were no words. But in the quiet—under the fading sky, with the koi pond rippling nearby and a tiny plush turtle in Todoroki's hands—it didn't matter.

Everything Todoroki felt was shining through in the stillness. And for Sero, that was more than enough.

Eventually, they stood and began the slow walk toward the parking lot, hands once again linked. Their fingers swung gently between them as they walked, a rhythm all their own.

"Seriously though," Sero grinned, nudging Todoroki's side, "that sea otter? The one that slapped his buddy and acted like nothing happened? Tell me that wasn't Bakugou."

Todoroki chuckled, a quiet, amused sound. "It was definitely Bakugou. That energy was unmistakable."

"And the blobfish?" Sero added.

"Iida," Todoroki said with zero hesitation. "A hundred percent."

Sero let out a wheezing laugh. "You're getting too good at this. I love this side of you."

Todoroki just leaned a little closer, snuggling his shoulder against Sero's. "I enjoyed this birthday very much."

Sero looked down at him, heart feeling like it was glowing from the inside out. "I'm really glad," he said softly. "You deserve the best."

Todoroki pulled his hand from Sero's for a moment—only to reach into his jacket pocket and hold up the two plush keychains: the little cat with the sleepy eyes, and the new sea turtle.

"I really love my gifts," he added, clutching them gently to his chest.

Then, with that same calm, quiet certainty he always had, Todoroki leaned in and kissed him.

Softly. Sweetly. Just lips brushing, tender and careful.

Sero froze for half a second from the surprise—but then melted into it, his hand rising instinctively to cup Todoroki's jaw. Their kiss deepened just slightly before they pulled apart, foreheads brushing.

They stopped walking without realizing it, caught in the little world between them. The fading daylight wrapped around them like a blanket, and neither of them cared who might be looking.

Todoroki was blushing, faintly but undeniably—but the soft smile on his lips didn't waver. Sero, cheeks flushed and heart full, gently wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist and pulled him into a quiet hug.

"Mi vida," he whispered. "I honestly can't imagine anything better than just... hanging out with you."

Todoroki raised a hand to cup Sero's cheek, thumb brushing just under his eye like he wanted to remember everything about this moment.

"I—"

"OH MY GOSH~"

They both jumped and whipped their heads toward the sound.

There she was...Aiko, with her freshly new hair style, standing there by the car with a big grin on her face.

"AIKO!" Sero's voice cracked as he released Todoroki, his face going crimson.

"I'm sorry!" she said, absolutely not sorry in the slightest. "I've been texting and waiting but oh my GOSH you were KISSING!"

Todoroki's cheeks turned pink, but he didn't step back—he just shifted a little, still close, still holding the plushes tight to his chest.

Sero groaned into his hands. "You're embarrassing him!"

"You called him mi vida!" she squealed. "I heard it! Mami's gonna SCREAM when I tell her!"

"Why are you like this!" Sero exclaimed, burying his red face in Todoroki's shoulder.

Todoroki blinked but didn't look upset. He was smiling, in fact—a soft, private smile, like nothing could ruin his mood. He glanced down at the plush turtle, then at Sero, who was still arguing with his sister.

And in his heart, steady and quiet and warm, a thought bloomed:

'I love you, Hanta.'

He didn't say it. Not yet. But he didn't have to.

Because it was already there—in the way he reached for Sero's hand again without hesitation. In the way his smile lingered, even as they walked toward the car. In the way he held his tiny plush cat and turtle against his chest like it was something sacred.

And in the way he couldn't stop smiling...

Because honestly?

He didn't think he could stop smiling—even if he tried.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Where is he?"

Fuyumi's voice was tight with worry as she paced slowly by the front window, peering out into the dusky evening. Her phone was clutched in her hand, her thumb hovering over Shoto's name on the screen for the twelfth time in an hour. She'd already called, left voicemails, sent texts.

Still nothing.

The sky outside was starting to darken into that soft indigo shade, and the porch light had just blinked on. It was quiet—too quiet. Her heart twisted.

She sighed, shoulders drooping. "He's not answering. He always answers..."

A deeper voice responded behind her. "Still nothing?"

Endeavor stepped into the living room, arms crossed but gaze unusually soft. He wasn't wearing his hero coat anymore—just a dark undershirt, his expression unreadable. Still, the tension in his jaw gave him away.

Fuyumi turned to him, eyes wide and tired. "No. I even called Natsuo—he hasn't heard from him either. I tried the hospital too... but Mom said he didn't visit her today." Her voice broke slightly at the end. "I don't know where he is. It's his birthday."

Endeavor was silent for a long moment. Then he exhaled through his nose. "I'll go look for him—"

Click.

The sound of the front door unlocking sliced through the moment.

Fuyumi spun toward the noise just as the door creaked open.

There, standing in the entryway, was Shoto Todoroki, illuminated by the soft hallway light. He looked... different.

Tired, maybe. Windswept. But there was something else too.

Something soft in the way he stood. Something new in the way he held himself.

He wore the soft pink sweater Fuyumi had given him months ago—one she thought he had quietly shoved into a drawer and forgotten. In his hair, barely catching the light, was a delicate strawberry-shaped hair clip, nestled just behind his ear. And in his hand, he carried a drink from some café and two small plush keychains—a sleepy-looking gray cat and a smiling sea turtle, tied with a neatly knotted red ribbon.

Fuyumi gasped.

"Shoto! Where have you been!?" She rushed toward him, phone dropping to the couch behind her. "You didn't answer any of my calls! I thought something happened to you—I was terrified!"

Without waiting for permission, she threw her arms around her little brother. He stiffened for a second, then slowly returned the embrace with one arm.

"I've been calling you since this morning," she sniffed against his shoulder. "I even made your favorite cake. Natsuo was about to start calling hospitals..."

Shoto blinked, looking past her shoulder at their father for a moment, then down at her.

"...Sorry," he said softly. "I must've turned my phone off. I didn't mean to worry you."

Fuyumi pulled away slightly, just enough to study his face. Her gaze flicked to the clip in his hair, then widened.

"Is that the sweater I gave you?" she asked in disbelief. "And... oh my god, Shoto, is that a strawberry clip? You look—" she choked on a laugh, "—you look really good in that! It suits you!"

Shoto's eyes widened slightly, a soft pink blooming on his cheeks. His fingers reflexively brushed the plushies, holding them closer to his chest. Those were the exact same words Hanta had said earlier that day.

Fuyumi's smile grew brighter. "Wait, wait, where were you? It's your birthday! We couldn't find you anywhere! I lit your favorite candles, the sparkly ones! I even got those chocolate-covered strawberries from that fancy place downtown! You love those!"

"I'm sorry, Fuyumi," he said again, offering her a small bow of apology. His voice was quiet but calm—no walls, no ice.

Endeavor stepped closer now. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was gentler than usual. "Shoto. You worried your sister. You worried all of us. Where were you?"

Shoto looked at his father.

And for a moment, Endeavor braced for the usual wall of disdain or the cold reply he'd grown used to.

But Shoto just... smiled.

A small, peaceful smile.

Because for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like fire or ice.

He felt like water.

Like the soft flow of jellyfish drifting under blue lights, like laughter under glass domes, like the brush of fingers on his cheek while holding hands between koi ponds and coral reefs.

Like Hanta.

"I was out," Shoto said simply.

Endeavor blinked, surprised by the calmness in his son's voice.

Fuyumi gasped again. "Wait. Wait... Shoto. Are you—are you blushing?"

"I'm not," he said quickly.

She leaned in, eyes wide with glee. "You totally are! Oh my god! Who were you with?! Did they give you these?!" She reached for the plushies.

Shoto flinched, gently pulling them back with protective hands. "They're mine."

She giggled, surprised at his sudden protectiveness. "Okay, okay—but you're so obviously smitten! Were you on a birthday date? Wait—did you kiss?!"

His ears burned red.

Fuyumi let out a squeal and hugged him again. "You did! Oh my god, Shoto! You had a real birthday with someone who likes you! I'm so, so happy for you!"

Her voice dropped to a whisper near his ear: "You look like someone who's been loved on purpose."

Shoto blinked, heart hitching. The words echoed in his chest.

Loved on purpose.

He swallowed hard. Maybe she was right.

Fuyumi kissed his cheek. "You looked so cute today, Sho. Even though you scared me, how could I stay mad when you look like a walking mochi ball?"

"...Please stop," Shoto murmured, though the corners of his lips curved upward.

She just held on tighter.

Endeavor, silent all this time, stood near the hallway, watching this unfold. Watching his son—his coldest, quietest child—come home not angry, not closed-off, but glowing. Blushing. Holding onto tiny symbols of care like they were treasures.

There was no fire in his eyes. No ice in his voice.

Just warmth.

And Endeavor—Enji Todoroki—felt something unfamiliar stir in his chest.

Hope.

Fuyumi eventually let go and stepped back, hands on her hips. "Fine, since you won't tell me the whole story—let's have cake!"

Shoto hesitated. "Actually... I was going to go to bed."

She pouted instantly. "Shotoooo, come on! Just a slice! I didn't even get to see you all day! Please?"

Shoto looked away, then sighed softly. "...Alright."

"YES!" she pumped her fist. "Dad, go get the candles! Sho, you sit down and wait—oh, and let me text Natsuo you're alive before he calls the police!"

She kissed his cheek again and practically danced into the kitchen.

Now it was just father and son, standing in the gentle hum of the living room's quiet.

Shoto slowly walked over and sat down on the couch, curling one leg beneath him. The turtle plush sat on his lap; the cat rested on his shoulder like a sleepy guardian.

Endeavor looked at him. Really looked.

The clip in his hair. The soft sleeves of the sweater. The smile that still lingered faintly on his lips.

"...Whoever you were with," Endeavor said after a long pause, voice low, "you seem... content."

Shoto didn't reply with words.

But he hugged the plush turtle a little closer to his chest.

A quiet, instinctive nod followed.

And for the first time in years, Endeavor didn't feel like a failure of a father.

He felt like maybe—just maybe—his son had found something he never could.

Peace.

From the kitchen came Fuyumi's voice again, cheerful and bubbly: "I found the penguin candle! It SPARKLES!"

Shoto chuckled under his breath.

He tilted his head toward the window. Outside, stars had begun to dot the night sky, faint and flickering.

The jellyfish had looked like that too—backlit and slow-moving, like tiny constellations underwater.
He wondered if they were still glowing now.
He wondered if Hanta was still thinking about him too.

He closed his eyes, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gently squeezed the turtle plush once more.

It had been his best birthday ever.

And no one—not even time, not even silence, not even the past—could take that away.

Chapter 21: The Bakugous' Dinner ( KiriBaku)

Kirishima's POV:

" Oh my god, oh my god , oh my god!"

Mina through my phone sighed, " Kiri, calm down-"

" What should I wear? Vest? Tuxeo?" I asked as I held up my opitons.

Mina rolled her eyes, " Babe you're freaking yourself out."

I whined, " I don't know what to wear! His parents are fashion designers, they're going to ripe me to shreds if I pull up looking a mess!"

" You know that's kinda ironic since the shit Bakugou wears sometimes," I heard Sero snorted during our FaceTime call.

I glared, " You're not helping!"

I saw him put his hand up as Mina sighed, " Look, calm down. Go to your closet and find something you think is nice."

Before I could do anything I heard Sero, " Hold on Mina, think about what you're saying right now. I mean...this man literally worn his bright red ass crocs to a formal heros presentation."

I pouted, " They were comfortable."

"Oh shit, you're right," Mina mumbled, already spiraling into a memory of the trauma. "Okay! Kiri, just put your phone by the closet so we can see what we're working with.

As you can probably tell—I'm panicking.

Today's the day.

The Bakugou Family Christmas Dinner.

Well... not on Christmas. It's on the Eve of Christmas Eve. Yeah. Don't ask. They're... quirky.

So back in the first week of December, Katsuki told me that his parents found out we were dating. And then—plot twist—they invited me to their annual family dinner.

I've been in a constant state of anxiety ever since.

And Katsuki? He's had me training for this.

Every night for the past couple of weeks, I've been doing mock dinners like it's a pro-hero final exam. Sero and Todoroki pretended to be his parents once. Mina was some weird flirty aunt. It was chaos.

I was taught how to chew "with grace," how to set a table, which fork to use, what not to say...

Like, don't mention Midoriya.

Definitely don't talk about our dates, which... okay yeah, got a little intense but that's beside the point!

And even though I'm freaking out, the fact that Bakugou was also nervous? That just made me more panicked.

Because if he's scared of his parents... what chance do I have?!

What if they hate me?

What if they think I'm too much?

What if they don't like my hair?

What if they think I'm not manly enough?!

"KIRI!"

I blinked out of my panic spiral to see Mina and Sero both staring at me through the screen like I'd just passed out.

"You're spiraling again, dude," Sero said flatly.

"Have you even met Todoroki's parents yet?" I shot back.

Sero immediately started whistling like he hadn't heard me.

That's what I thought.

"Come on, Kiri, this is Bakubabe we're talking about," Mina said gently, her pink brows raised. "You know he wouldn't bring you home if he didn't really like you."

"Exactly!" I groaned, flopping backward onto my bed with the kind of dramatic whine that echoed off the walls. "So what if his parents hate me? What if they say I'm not manly enough or—"

"Then I'll say..." Sero cut in solemnly, placing a hand over his chest with the kind of gravity reserved for a drama show finale. "Eres una vergüenza para tu familia y te escupo a ti y a todo tu linaje."

Mina and I stared.

Blink. Blink.

"...We don't speak Spanish, Sero," Mina deadpanned, raising an unimpressed brow.

From Sero's speaker, a familiar deadpan voice chimed in like a passive-aggressive ghost assistant. "He said something about dishonor and spitting on someone's entire bloodline."

I shot upright. "Wait—Todoroki?!"

The screen jostled as Sero tilted his phone slightly, revealing Todoroki resting his head lazily on Sero's shoulder, expression unreadable as ever. They looked unfairly cozy. Like the calm center of a chaotic storm—my chaotic storm.

"Oh hey, Todoroki," I said weakly, giving him a small wave.

"Hello, Mina. Kirishima," he nodded, tone perfectly polite, like we were in class and not mid-crisis.

"Heyyy, Shoto Baby!" Mina beamed, leaning in toward the camera. "Where are you guys? You look like a couple of napping cats."

"I'm at his place," Todoroki replied, voice low and even. "His family's out. We were relaxing until Hanta said something about the group chat entered code red."

"Sorry for disturbing your cuddle sesh," I muttered under my breath, not jealous but also... maybe a little bit jealous.

Todoroki shifted slightly, nudging closer into Sero's side like it was second nature. "It's alright. You looked like you were about to pass out when the call connected."

I groaned, dragging the phone with me as I shuffled over to my closet—a war zone of panic and cotton-blend chaos. "Because I am! I've been trying to figure out what to wear for forty-five minutes, and every time I think I've got it, Mina bans it. This is fashion trial by combat!"

"You keep holding up gym shirts," Mina retorted, crossing her arms. "And one time you held up a single glove. Just one. Like you were trying to join a boy band from the 80s."

"That glove is vintage!" I snapped. "Crimson Riot wore that design during the Osaka Warehouse Incident—"

"Absolutely not," she cut me off. "No hero cosplay at the dinner table. We've talked about this."

I propped my phone on the desk, giving them a full view of my battlefield of a closet.

One side was color-coded, neat, almost military precision.

The other side... was every emotional breakdown I've had in clothing form. Hero merch, half-folded laundry, and hoodies I hadn't seen since middle school.

Sero squinted at the screen. "Alright. Deep breath. Let's find your final form, Kirishima. I know you've got solid stuff in there—you just panic and forget everything you own."

"I do not—okay. Fine. Maybe I do," I admitted, dragging a hand down my face.

"Top shelf," Mina instructed like a commander directing troops. "Left side. That blue sweater."

My eyes lit up. "Oh! My Crimson Riot sweater! Yes!"

I yanked it down like I was retrieving a holy relic. Soft, worn in all the right places, stormy navy blue with his catchphrase stitched across the back in crimson thread. Iconic.

"This was part of the Blue Flame anniversary line! Limited drop—only 200 made!"

Mina immediately groaned. "Oh my god, never mind."

"What?! This sweater is perfect! It's rare! It's meaningful!"

Sero tilted his head, squinting like he was trying to solve a particularly tricky case file. "Okay, but—how do you even have a Crimson Riot design on a blue sweater? Isn't his whole thing, like... red? It's literally in the name."

"That's what makes it rare!" I argued, clutching the sweater to my chest like it was sacred. "It subverts expectations!"

Mina folded her arms, expression deadly serious. "New rule," she declared, tone like she was delivering a Supreme Court verdict. "No Crimson Riot merch. Not a single piece. You are not walking into his house looking like a fanboy groupie."

I visibly wilted. "Not even my fancy Crocs?"

"They have tiny dress socks printed on the straps, Kiri," she deadpanned.

"They're elevated," I shot back.

"No." Mina and Sero barked in perfect unison, like twin fashion police with matching badges.

Sero pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning like I was physically causing him pain. "You're so lucky you're cute, man. Seriously."

"He's cute," Todoroki added thoughtfully, tilting his head like he was commenting on a particularly pretty cloud. "Like... objectively?"

Sero froze. His whole body stiffened like someone had hit pause on a remote. "I-I mean—he is! In a—like—a friendly, brotherly, totally non-threatening way, mi vida! Lo siento, lo siento!" He flailed, a visible bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

Mina wheezed, bent double with laughter. "Smooth, loverboy."

Todoroki blinked slowly at Sero, then reached out and gently patted his chest, deadpan. "You're safe. I understood."

I just pouted and crossed my arms. "Denki would've backed me up..."

The mood instantly dropped.

Sero's smile dimmed. "Yeah, well... we both know why Denki's not here."

My chest squeezed. The tension in the call was palpable now.

"I just miss him," I said quietly. "Even if he's being a jerk."

"Of course we miss him," Mina said gently. "But he blew up at all of us. You saw it too."

"He hasn't replied to a single message in days," Sero added. "I love the guy, but he's gotta want to fix it too."

I nodded slowly, staring at the floor. "Yeah. I know."

Silence.

Then—

"Kirishima," Todoroki said gently. "What about that white shirt? On the end of the rack."

I blinked and turned. Nestled between a crimson hoodie and a hero uniform jacket was the shirt—my soft cream-colored button-down. Subtle texture, gentle collar, sleeves that folded just right. It was the one I wore at my moms' wedding.

I touched it like it might shatter in my hands. "...This one?"

Mina gasped. "YES! That one! Oh my god, it's perfect! You'll look so clean. Like you own a lake house and you compost."

"You'll look like someone who wears linen on vacation," Sero added proudly. "It says: 'I bake sourdough, and I'm not emotionally repressed.'"

Todoroki tilted his head. "I thought sourdough was difficult to maintain."

"That's why it's impressive mi vida," Sero said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Todoroki blinked, serious. "So if Kirishima learns to bake, will that make Bakugou less aggressive?"

Mina snorted so hard she dropped her hairbrush. "I doubt anything could tame that beast."

Sero raised a hand. "Hey now. This is a pro-Bakugou space. Even if he yells like a blender full of gravel."

I held the shirt up to my chest, laughing despite myself. "Okay... what pants?"

"Dark jeans. Slim cut. No holes. And boots—not sneakers," Mina ordered.

"And no Crocs," Sero said, pointing a very serious finger at me.

I nodded like I was taking a vow. "I swear on Crimson Riot—I will not wear Crocs."

"Now you're starting to look like someone's future husband," Sero grinned.

My face heated instantly. "You think so?"

"Absolutely," Mina said. "Kiri, you're sunshine in human form. You're going to knock this out of the park."

"Okay, okay... outfit done. But what do I say to them?" I started pacing again. Can't I walk in there and be like, 'Wow Bakugous , your kitchen's super manly.'"

Mina snapped her fingers like she'd been waiting for this moment. "NO. No calling their home 'manly.' You're not rating gym equipment."

"But I said that at Sero's house and his mom liked it!"

Sero shrugged. "Yeah, well... my family's weird. You also told my dad our dining table had 'the stance of a defensive lineman' and he got it engraved."

"I met his older sister once," Todoroki offered. "She's loud. Reminded me of Mina."

Mina gasped, whipped toward the camera. "Wait—Aiko is back?! You didn't tell me?!"

"FOCUS," I groaned, flailing both arms like I was herding cats.

"Sorry," they muttered in unison.

I cleared my throat, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Alright. What about... 'Your house is beautiful'? Simple. Classic."

Mina clapped like I've just solved world peace. "Boom. Done. Easy. No weird metaphors. Nothing about beams or structural integrity. Please."

I nodded firmly, like I was about to storm a battlefield. "Okay. Okay, I can do this. Compliment house. No metaphors. Got it."

But then the spiral hit.

"...What about during dinner?" I blurted. "Where do I sit? Do I wait for Bakugou to sit first? What if the chair squeaks and I look weird? Do I compliment the food before or after the first bite? Is it too much if I offer to do the dishes? What if I offer and they think I'm judging their kitchen hygiene—"

Sero raised a calming hand like he was dealing with a baby lion. "Okay. Deep breaths, man. First rule—pull out Bakugou's chair. Not his mom's. Never his mom's. That's his dad's job, and if you step on that turf, I swear to god, you'll see a flash of light and then—bam! Meat cleaver. But Bakugou? He'll notice the gesture. It's smooth. Gentlemanly. But not try-hard."

Mina pointed her hairbrush like a pointer. "Second rule—eye contact. Thank them for the meal like you're being knighted. No slouching. No elbows on the table. And chew like you've evolved past caveman status."

Todoroki blinked solemnly from Sero's shoulder on the group call. "I recommend breathing between bites. It signals non-threatening behavior. You appear relaxed, not feral."

"You're so weird, mi vida," Sero murmured fondly, grinning.

"I am accurate," Todoroki replied, completely unfazed.

Mina rolled her eyes. "Look, Kiri. Bottom line—you're a golden retriever in a world of grumpy cats. Everyone loves you. Even when Bakugou's pretending he doesn't. You're safe."

"My little sisters called you 'sunshine in red sneakers,'" Sero added with a soft smile. "One of them drew you holding hands with a volcano."

I cracked a real grin. "Thanks, guys. I needed this."

And then—
BZZZZ.

My phone vibrated violently on the desk.

Incoming call:

Katsuki 💥🔥 is calling...

I froze.

"Oh no. Oh no. He's calling. He's gonna yell. He probably knows I'm spiraling. He's gonna sniff it out like a bloodhound."

"ANSWER IT!" Mina shrieked like the phone might detonate.

"I CAN'T—what if I say something stupid and he rage-punches his phone?!"

"Add him to the call!" Sero urged, already half-laughing.

Panic fully activated, I smacked the screen.

The call connected, and suddenly, there he was—Katsuki Bakugou. Wind-tossed hair, cheeks flushed, hoodie half-zipped like he'd run to wherever he was now. The sky behind him was darkening—he was definitely outside—and he was very clearly not in the mood for nonsense.

"Hey babe—" I tried, feebly.

"EIJIRO," he barked, voice thunder. "Why the hell haven't you been answering your phone?! I've been calling for twenty goddamn minutes! Did you die?!"

"Hey Bakubabe~!" Mina sang sweetly, waving.

"Hi Bakubro!" Sero chimed, all smiles.

"Hello, Bakugou," Todoroki said with a polite nod like they were at a business meeting.

Bakugou blinked. Then twitched.

"WHY. ARE. THESE. EXTRAS. HERE."

"I-I needed backup!" I blurted. "I didn't know what to wear and I was spiraling and they staged an intervention—"

Sero leaned into the frame. "We gave him a makeover. Mi vida picked the winning shirt. You're welcome."

"You let Icyhot pick your outfit?" Bakugou looked like his soul was ascending in pure disbelief.

"He... had a good eye," I squeaked.

"Technically two." Todoroki added.

Sero cupped his mouth as I groaned.

Bakugou stared at me for a long moment. His mouth twitched.

"...Shitty Hair," he said slowly. "You've got sixty seconds to call me back. Alone. Or I'm flying over, dragging you into the upper atmosphere, and yeeting you into a volcano."

And then the screen went black.

Dead. Silence.

Sero let out a long, low whistle. "He definitely missed you."

Mina was full-on fanning her face with her hand. "He was panting, you guys. He sprinted through, like, a tornado to call you."

I looked down at my newly chosen outfit—thankfully Croc-free—and back at my friends.

My heart was pounding. My palms were sweaty. My brain was chaos.

But my friends?

They were my anchor.

"...Thanks," I said. "I actually—I think I can do this now."

"You can," Mina said, getting misty-eyed like a proud mom at graduation. "Now go make that emotionally constipated firecracker fall so hard he explodes."

"And remember," Sero added, dead serious, "no crocs. Not even the ironic ones."

"Unless they're emotional support crocs," Todoroki said helpfully, sipping from a mug like he hadn't just nuked the mood.

"NO," everyone shouted at once.

I laughed, heart lighter than it had been in hours, and picked up my phone again.

"Wish me luck. If I die—tell Crimson Riot I died with honor and a good haircut."

"Slay respectfully," Mina saluted dramatically, hand over heart.

"Text us immediately," Sero added, arms crossed, brows furrowed like a worried dad.

I laughed nervously, but inside? Full. Panic. Mode.

I took a deep breath, cracked my knuckles, and tapped Katsuki's name on my phone screen. Time to face the fire. Literally.

But before the call could even ring once, there was a sharp knock at the front door. I ran downstairs and when I got there the knocking continued.

My eyes flicked toward it, heart jumping in my chest. My moms were out grocery shopping, and my older brother was still at college, so... who?

I blinked. "Who is it?"

A familiar, gruff voice growled from the other side: "Open the door, Shitty Hair."

My heart stuttered. "Katsuki?"

I practically launched for the doorknob, flinging the door open to reveal my hot-headed, wonderful boyfriend standing there—hoodie half-zipped, cheeks flushed red despite being winter.

I gawked at him. "Babe—what are you doing here? I was literally just about to call you—"

"Can I come in or not?" he snapped, though the edges of his voice were frayed with something softer. Nervous, maybe. Concern?

I nodded, stepping aside. "Yeah—yeah, of course. My parents aren't home."

He brushed past me with that usual stormcloud presence, the scent of smoke and cedar trailing behind him. I watched as he toed off his boots and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "dumbass" under his breath.

"Babe, seriously—how'd you get here so fast? We literally just hung up."

"You weren't answering," he grumbled. "So I had to check if your dumbass was alive. What if you'd passed out or panicked yourself into a dumb concussion or some shit?"

Despite the delivery, my heart melted. I smiled and sat down beside him on the floor, letting the quiet between us settle for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Kat," I said softly. "I know you're busy getting ready for tonight... I didn't mean to stress you out."

He finally glanced over—sharp red eyes softened by the tiniest flicker of affection. He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Tch. That hag's watchin' the food. Most of it's done. If the old man doesn't forget to take the meat out, we'll be fine."

I blinked. "Wait—you cooked?"

He gave me an incredulous look. "You think I'd let that gremlin woman poison you on your first dinner at my house? Hell no. Me and the old man always handle it. She just hovers around calling us amateurs and dissing the paprika."

I laughed, honestly touched.

I couldn't help laughing. God, he was perfect.

He looked at me, lips twitching like he wanted to smile but didn't know how to allow it.

The more I looked at him, the more I felt that pull again—that gravitational tug he always had on me. The kind that made me lean closer without thinking.

So I did. I leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

He twitched in surprise—but didn't pull away.

When I leaned back, his cheeks were an even deeper red.

"Want something to eat? Water?" I offered, still smiling.

He huffed and stood up like I'd offended him. "Your ass isn't eating anything. You're eating at my place. I've been cooking all goddamn day. If you waste it, I swear to god—"

I laughed as I stood, raising my hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, babe. I got it. No snacks. I'll starve until dinner."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, glancing at me with a frown that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I just need to make sure you're not wearing something fucking stupid before I go back and finish prepping."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me upstairs without another word. I wasn't even surprised he knew exactly where to go—he's been here enough times to memorize the layout, though only when my moms weren't home.

(They loved him, but they'd definitely start flashing baby pictures and asking awkward questions. Trauma.)

Once in my room, he let go and immediately started scanning the chaos.

"Damn, you really need to clean your room," he muttered, stepping over a pile of discarded socks and flinging a t-shirt off the bed like it had offended him.

I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. "I know, I was trying to figure out what to wear and then I just...panicked."

He eyed the white shirt Todoroki had suggested—

It was simple: crisp white, faint vertical stitching, clean lines.

Elegant. Grown-up. I'd barely looked at it without spiraling.

Katsuki walked over and ran his fingers across the fabric, smoothing it out. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary before he turned back to me.

And stared.

His eyes—those intense, scarlet eyes—locked onto mine, unreadable. The air between us tightened. I swallowed thickly, heat crawling up the back of my neck as my heart skipped a beat.

"You're gonna be fine, Ei," he said, voice softer than I'd heard it all day. Low. Sincere. Grounded.

Just those four words and suddenly my lungs remembered how to breathe again.

"I—I know," I said, though it barely came out above a whisper. "I just... I really don't wanna mess this up. I don't want to embarrass you. Or disappoint your parents. Or you."

The words spilled out too fast, too raw, like they'd been sitting under my ribs for days waiting for the right second to burst out.

There was a beat of silence. Then another.

And then—warmth.

Two calloused palms rose to cup my face, Katsuki's hands surprisingly gentle against my cheeks. His thumbs brushed the corners of my jaw, grounding me. It was the kind of touch that said hey, I'm here, quit spiraling, without him needing to say a single damn word.

I looked up, caught in his gravity. His face was close—so close I could see the soft flutter of his eyelashes and the faint pink flush still warming the tops of his ears. Despite the spiky blonde hair, the sharp edges of his words, the constant ticking time bomb vibe—he looked like a doll right now. A beautiful, fragile kind of calm behind the usual storm.

"You won't," he said quietly. No heat. No growl. Just firm, absolute certainty. "You never do."

Then, without asking, without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed me.

It was slow. Sure. Like he was sealing the words with something heavier than air. There was no rush in it—no frantic need to devour, no flash of heat. Just warmth. Reassurance. A silent I'm here for you, in the only language Katsuki Bakugou really knew how to speak.

And I melted into it. Into him. Into the softness I so rarely got to see but always knew was there.

But of course, this was Bakugou.

It didn't last.

He pulled back with a familiar grumble and shoved me lightly in the chest, scowling. "Now why the hell did you call Raccoon Eyes?"

I groaned, flopping backward onto my bed like I'd just been mortally wounded. "We've talked about this..."

He's still not over what happened at the Christmas party...

"Yeah, and it's still dumb. You should've just asked me," he snapped, crossing his arms over his chest with the dramatic flair of a man truly and personally offended. "You need a second opinion, I'm right here. Why call her? She's gonna say you need glitter or some shit."

"She helped me calm down!" I argued, peeking up at him. "And she made me laugh!"

"She always makes me want to throw myself into traffic," he muttered.

"Anyway," he continued, pointing a firm finger at the white shirt on the bed, "wear that one. Stop spiraling. You've practiced your little speeches like ten damn times, and I don't date losers. So don't act like one."

"Okay, okay," I nodded quickly, laughing softly at the contradiction between his insults and his soft expression. That was Katsuki in a nutshell—yell affection into the room and hope it lands.

He turned toward the door, exhaling sharply through his nose. "I'm heading out."

I followed him downstairs, the energy between us lighter now, but still buzzing like static clinging to our skin.

He bent down to pull his boots on, hands deft and practiced. His movements were sharp, like he had a mental checklist he was racing through. I watched him quietly, admiring the way he moved. Always with purpose. Always forward.

He had that laser-focused look again—the one he wore before fights, exams, missions. Locked in. Unshakable.

Tonight's "mission?" Dinner at his place. With his family. Our first real family thing together.

And he was taking it so seriously.

My heart swelled, stupid and full.

Without thinking, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him from behind. He stiffened for half a second—startled—but then, slowly, his hands moved. He twisted just enough to loop his arms around my shoulders and pull me in tighter.

His chin rested on my shoulder. His breath tickled my collarbone.

He smelled like citrus shampoo and warmth. A hint of spice. Like cinnamon gum and something smoky clinging faintly to his clothes—residual quirk burn, maybe. He always smelled a little like fire, and somehow, it was comforting.

"I can't wait for tonight," I whispered, heart thudding so hard I felt it in my fingertips.

He blinked, turning his head slightly to glance at me. "You better eat it all," he muttered. "I've been cooking since six."

"In the morning?" I asked leaning back, blinking.

"Duh. Needed to prep. The rice soaks better overnight. And I didn't wanna risk messing up the niku-jaga," he said, like I was the idiot for asking.

I frowned a little. "Do you wanna nap? Or at least sit down for a bit? You shouldn't be pushing yourself like this just for dinner—"

"I don't have time for that," he snapped automatically. "I still gotta finish cutting the carrots, make sure the roast isn't dry, double-check the seasoning, and—shit, I haven't even picked out what shirt I'm wearing—"

"Babe," I said gently, cutting in.

He stopped mid-rant.

I gave him a small smile. "The dinner's at seven. It's literally only two. Why don't you stay with me for just one hour? Just one. Rest. Cuddle. Then you can go back and boss your parents around. I'm sure your dad can watch the roast."

He opened his mouth—ready to argue, to list twenty-five reasons why this was a bad tactical decision—but I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

Soft.

Warm.

"Please, Kat~?" I added, with the kind of soft whine I knew he secretly hated but always caved to.

He stared at me. Jaw clenched. Face red.

Then—defeated, flustered—he let out a heavy, reluctant tsk and looked away.

"Fine. But only because you're such a damn baby."

Victory. Achieved.

He tugged his boots off again, muttering under his breath about how this was sabotage, and I led him back upstairs.

My room was still a minefield of rejected outfits and existential dread, but he didn't say a word this time. Just followed me with heavy footsteps, arms crossed.

I dove onto the bed, bouncing a little as I patted the spot beside me. "C'mon, Kat. There's a perfect Katsuki-shaped space right here."

He rolled his eyes but the faint smile was there—tugging at the corner of his mouth like it couldn't stay hidden. He stepped over a hoodie, kicked aside a pair of socks, and flopped down beside me like gravity dragged him there.

I didn't wait.

I immediately wrapped my arms around him and pulled him against me. He gave a little grunt of protest, stiffened for half a second—and then, melted. Like actual butter.

I threw the blanket over both of us as he huffed, resigned.

He grabbed his phone and immediately set two alarms.

"If your dumbass doesn't wake up at 3 sharp, I will kill you," he mumbled as he set it on the nightstand.

"I got it, I got it," I giggled, already winding my arms tighter around him.

He turned toward me, forehead gently pressing into my collarbone, and for a second I just... stared. Breathed him in. Felt his warmth curl around me like a second blanket.

I reached up and slowly ran my fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at the back of his scalp.

His breath hitched—just barely—but he didn't stop me. Instead, he pressed even closer, wrapping one leg over mine like a human koala.

"See?" I whispered. "Isn't this better?"

He let out a muffled laugh into my shirt.

"You're such a dumbass," he said again.

But the way he held me—tight and close and steady—said something else entirely.

I kept running my fingers through his hair, watching as his breathing evened out. He shifted once, curled in tighter, and then went still.

A few minutes passed.

And then—

Snores.

Not loud. Just soft, rhythmic, gentle.

I smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

I looked down at him—mouth slightly open, eyebrows finally relaxed, arms still gripping me like I was going to vanish—and leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose.

"I told you," I whispered.

Katsuki Bakugou was a storm.

But here, in my arms?

He was peace.

And I wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, Eijirou. You got this. You're super manly. You're awesome. You're going to be great. Katsuki's parents are going to love you, they're going to—oh my god, they're going to hate me."

I muttered to myself, clutching the medium wrapped box and bouquet of yellow flowers in my hands as I stared up at the Bakugou residence.

Calling it a "house" didn't quite cut it—it was basically a mini-mansion, sleek and modern with black paneling and massive windows that practically screamed rich people live here. I had to remind myself: his parents were famous fashion designers. Of course they were loaded.

The gate clicked behind me as I walked up the stone path toward the door, my heartbeat thundering like I was marching to my doom. I'd never been to his house before. Katsuki always shot the idea down fast—usually with a scowl and a growl of:

"Not a chance in hell. That hag'll be a nuisance."

Those were his exact words.

Interesting way to describe your own mother, but hey—I have no idea what their relationship is actually like. I mean, Kat's loud, but she sounds... terrifying.

Which made my stomach turn even harder.

When he left earlier, he told me to "just be myself," which in theory was sweet, but in practice? Terrifying. Because right now, "myself" was a nervous wreck who nearly forgot to grab the flowers and the extra gift I got for him.

Yeah, I brought him another gift. I couldn't help it. Ever since the Christmas party incident, I knew it still weighed on him—even if he played it cool. So I wanted to remind him how much he meant to me. I needed him to know.

I inhaled deeply, holding it for three counts before letting it out through my nose. The bouquet shook slightly in my grip.

You've fought villains before. You've been nearly crushed, burned, blasted. You've passed finals, you've faced death. You can handle this.

I reached up to knock.

But before I could, I heard the yelling.

"I'M NOT WEARING IT!"

"OH YES YOU ARE, KATSUKI! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A FIRST YEAR NOW, IT'S TRADITION!"

"I'M NOT WEARING IT, YOU OLD BAT!"

"WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!"

I blinked.

...Right. This was already shaping up to be a very interesting dinner.

I took a small step back and looked down at my outfit: crisp white button-up tucked neatly into dark jeans that hugged my thighs (maybe a little too well), topped off with a red wool coat. It was winter, but I'd still dressed to impress. Hopefully it showed.

I knocked—softly at first. The shouting continued.

"I SAID, FUCK OFF!"

"DON'T YOU DARE USE THE WORD 'FUCK' ON THIS HOLIDAY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

I gulped.

I tried again. Louder.

This time, the door creaked open—and my heart launched straight into my throat.

Standing there was a man, probably in his early forties, with warm, slightly tousled brown hair that curled upward at the tips like it couldn't decide if it wanted to spike or lie flat.

He wore thin-framed glasses that rested gently on the bridge of his nose, framing soft, coffee-colored eyes that looked like they'd never once narrowed in anger. His green button-up shirt was crisp and tucked into neatly pressed brown slacks, and he stood like someone used to being polite even in chaos.

But it wasn't just his outfit, or his calm demeanor, or even the homey scent of herbs and something lightly sweet that clung to the doorway like steam.

It was the smile.

Soft. Genuine. The kind that made you feel like you were already forgiven for something you hadn't done yet.

"Ah," he said, pleasantly surprised, his eyes warming further behind the glass. "You must be Eijiro Kirishima. I'm Masaru Bakugou—Katsuki's father. It's a real pleasure to finally meet you."

Wait. Hold on.

This was Katsuki's dad?

The man who raised the most intense, explosive boy in our entire class?

His voice was so calm. Like warm tea in a quiet room during a rainstorm. I felt my shoulders loosen even though my spine was still made of trembling steel.

"I—It's nice to meet you too, sir," I stammered, offering a quick bow before I could embarrass myself further.

From somewhere deeper inside the house, a thunderous screech shattered the peace.

"GO FIX YOUR FACE BEFORE YOUR BOYFRIEND GETS HERE, YOU WALKING FIREWORK!"

"YOU SHRIEKING GOBLIN, I LOOK FINE!"

"DON'T TEST ME, KATSUKI—IT'S FAMILY TRADITION!"

"I'M GONNA THROW THAT TRADITION OUT THE GODDAMN WINDOW—"

And then—abrupt silence.

The sound of heels clicking on hardwood filled the air, followed by a soft, knowing sigh from Masaru beside me. A moment later, a woman stepped into view.

She had golden-blonde spiky hair pulled into a ponytail that swayed behind her like a whip. Her green dress was tailored so perfectly I almost forgot to breathe—probably her own design. Her sharp eyes locked onto me, and a smile curved her lips with terrifying ease.

It was a smile I'd seen a hundred times before.

Katsuki's smile.

Or... well, his mom's smile, apparently.

"Oh!" she said, her voice bright but layered with a sense of unspoken power. "Hi there! You must be Katsuki's boyfriend! I'm Mitsuki Bakugou—his ever-patient, long-suffering mother."

I scrambled into another awkward bow. "N-Nice to meet you, ma'am! These are for you," I added, shoving the bouquet of yellow lilies forward like a lifeline. "I—I hope you like them."

Her eyes lit up. "Ohh, look at you! Polite, thoughtful, and cute! What a refreshing change."

She snatched the flowers and turned to her husband. "Masaru, isn't he adorable?"

Mr.Bakugou nodded fondly. "Very gentlemanly. You've got great manners, young man."

Okay. Okay, deep breath. This was going... okay?

"Come in, come in!" Mrs.Bakugou waved me inside with a dramatic flourish that made the bangles on her wrist jingle. "It's freezing out there, and we don't need you catching a cold before dinner. I've got way too many questions to ask for you to be coughing your lungs out halfway through."

The moment I stepped through the door, the warmth hit me like a full-body hug—soft, enveloping, and slightly overwhelming in the best, most comforting way. The kind of warmth that made your shoulders drop without realizing it, like your whole body exhaled.

The air inside was thick with delicious smells—sizzling garlic, miso broth bubbling somewhere in the back, and something rich and buttery that sent my stomach into a near growl. It smelled like steak—no, lamb maybe—seared with soy and sweet glaze. Whatever it was, it was definitely something you'd find in a glossy magazine spread labeled 'Holiday Dinner, Hero Style.'

From the kitchen, pots clinked and something hissed softly as it hit the pan. A mellow jazz piano tune played from a speaker tucked discreetly behind a ceramic bowl full of sugared citrus peels on the entryway table, the kind of music that made you feel like you'd stepped into a movie rather than a home.

And what a home.

Their place wasn't flashy in the celebrity way—there were no giant marble statues or walls made of glass. No infinity pool glowing blue behind a wall of windows. But it was stunning. Beautiful in a way that felt intentional. Every inch of it seemed like it had a purpose, a story. A balance between sharp, sophisticated minimalism and lived-in comfort.

Tall ceilings loomed overhead, lined with recessed lights that bathed the rooms in a warm, golden hue. The walls were white, but not cold—more like the crisp inside of a seashell—and lined with a mix of framed family photos and minimalist abstract art that hung like whispered statements. Sleek furniture stood on polished wood floors, softened by thick woven rugs that looked custom-made.

In the corners of the open living space, a few mannequin busts stood proudly like museum displays, dressed in half-finished garments. One wore a long black coat with jagged, flame-like stitching curling up the sleeves, and another shimmered faintly with embedded thread tech—probably heat-resistant or weather-adaptive. Hero fashion, unmistakably. Mitsuki's work. It was like standing in a gallery of quiet genius.

And then—Christmas.

Oh, they did Christmas.

This wasn't a casual throw-some-tinsel-on-the-staircase kind of deal. No, this was a full-blown, glittering winter wonderland explosion. Twinkling fairy lights traced every doorway like magical borders. Snowflake decals shimmered across the wide living room windows, catching the lights just right so it felt like snowfall indoors. Candle arrangements flickered on side tables, scented faintly of cinnamon and pine.

But the tree. The tree.

It dominated the room—a towering twelve-foot fir that looked like it had come straight out of a professional catalog or maybe a pro-hero holiday gala. It was dressed to kill. Crimson ribbons spiraled around the branches like silk armor. Gold and matte black ornaments caught the glow of the lights, making the whole thing gleam. Nestled among them were handmade decorations—clay stars clearly painted by a child's hand, crayon-scribbled paper snowmen, and tiny macaroni frames holding ancient photos of a scowling blond kid.

I didn't even have to ask—those were Katsuki's.

At the very top of the tree, instead of a star or an angel, was a glowing, stylized explosion ornament, sculpted to look like one of Bakugou's blasts mid-detonation. It sparkled with energy-reactive thread, crackling faintly with light. There were even little All Might plush ornaments scattered around the tree, their stitched mouths frozen mid-slogan: "PLUS ULTRA!"

Yeah. That was definitely Katsuki's touch.

I blinked, trying not to gape—half out of awe, half because it was just so... them. All of them. It was beautiful, chaotic, elegant, and proudly sentimental. Somehow, it felt like Katsuki too. Tough on the outside, blinding in presentation, but wrapped around memories no one else got to see.

And suddenly, I wasn't so nervous anymore.

This was a house that had stories. A house that meant something.

And I was lucky enough to be standing in it.

I'd seen the Bakugous in photos before—Mrs. Bakugou, especially, during Fashion Week coverage or interviews about adaptive hero gear. But being here, in their home, where everything smelled like dinner and felt like history... it made all those glossy magazine spreads feel fake in comparison. This was real.

Mr.Bakugou offered to take my coat with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling behind thin glasses as he reached for the lapel.

"Thank you, sir," I said with a small bow, slipping the coat from my shoulders and handing it to him with both hands, trying to remember every bit of etiquette I'd rehearsed in my head before walking up to their front door.

He chuckled, the sound warm and easy. "No need to be so formal, Eijiro. I'm just Masaru."

He moved gracefully despite the soft hum of age in his knees, hanging my coat with careful precision on a sleek wooden rack near the door. His posture was relaxed, but his movements held the practiced ease of a man who was used to chaos—and had made peace with it.

As I stood in the foyer, I took another glance around the place.

"You guys have a man—uh—I mean, a lovely home," I said, catching myself mid-blunder.

Nailed it. Sort of.

Mrs. Bakugou, ever the hawk, smirked from the hallway with her arms crossed. "Why thank you. I thought it was getting too outdated, but it's good to know someone appreciates it."

She looked around like a designer surveying her own showroom, and honestly? She had every right to. Their home felt like it had been pulled from one of those high-end lifestyle magazines. The minimalist walls were balanced by pops of deep burgundy and metallic gold—warm but sharp, intentional.

Family photos lined the wall along the staircase, showcasing Katsuki from toddlerhood to hero school, usually mid-scream or pout, and always surrounded by small explosions of confetti, birthday candles, or literal sparks.

Garland wrapped the bannister, twinkling with warm yellow fairy lights, and tiny sparkly ornaments hung like stars in a midnight sky. The living room glowed with Christmas warmth—string lights along the windows, a crackling fireplace illusion projected on a massive TV, and an extravagant tree covered in red, gold, and matte-black ornaments. One ornament was a crude ceramic handprint that read "Katsuki, Age 3" in bold, messy paint.

Mr. Bakugou returned with a pair of slippers. "Here you go."

I accepted them with a bow. "Thank you very much, Mr.—I mean, Masaru."

"You're very welcome, Eijiro." He handed them over like a treasured gift—soft, spotless gray slippers, likely new just for tonight. They looked like they belonged in a spa. No way was I rejecting those.

Before I could bend down, Mitsuki was already on the move, reaching for the gift box I'd brought with both arms. She inspected it like a jeweler evaluating a rare gem.

"I'll hold this, sweetheart," she said with a pleased little hum, tilting it in the light. "Good folds. Ribbon could've been tighter, but I'll allow it."

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're such a cutie—"

"HAG! WHERE THE HELL—"

That voice could rattle buildings.

Katsuki's voice exploded from the hallway like a shockwave, heavy with his signature brand of fury and general disdain for anything unexpected. I turned just in time to see him stomp into the room, brows furrowed, mouth already mid-yell.

But the second he saw me—he stopped cold.

Dead. Still.

I froze, too.

He was wearing an apron. A soft pink one. With frills. And a bow tied at the back like a freaking bakery mascot. Glittery thread spelled the word "BOOM!" across the chest in big, sparkly letters.

Underneath, he wore a forest green sweater that fit him like a dream—soft, cozy, but snug enough to show the bulk of his shoulders and arms. The sleeves were pushed up just past his elbows, revealing toned forearms dusted with tiny flour smudges. His brown slacks were fitted, perfectly pressed.

And then I saw it.

His dad was wearing nearly the same thing.

They matched.

He was matching with his parents...

So manly!

I blinked. He blinked.

Mitsuki was already trembling beside me, her eyes wide with manic glee.

Katsuki Bakugou, the human explosion himself, was standing in his family's pristine living room in a color-coordinated outfit and a frilly pink apron, looking like someone had dragged him out of a holiday cooking segment against his will.

I nearly combusted.

"H-Hey, Kat," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I held out the second gift box like it was a peace offering. "Merry Christmas."

His crimson eyes flicked down to the box, then back up to me, then over to his hovering parents.

"You were supposed to text me," he muttered, voice low. "So I could meet you at the damn door."

"Sorry," I said gently, stepping closer. "I wanted to be early."

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The reaction was instant. His entire face ignited like someone had flipped a switch, blush blooming down his neck and ears. The air around him practically sizzled.

Mitsuki made a delighted choking noise.

"Oh my GOD, Katsuki!" she cried. "You told me he was polite, but you didn't say he was a sweetheart!"

Before I could even react, she pinched my cheek like a proud aunt.

"Look at you! So cute! So polite! I love this one."

"MOM!" Katsuki snapped, arms flailing like he was being attacked by ghosts. "STOP IT!"

Mitsuki just grinned wider, completely unbothered. "What? I'm being honest."

Katsuki grumbled something under his breath, dragging a hand down his face as if he could erase himself.

Then Mitsuki fixed her eyes on me. Sharp. Curious.

"But I have to ask—are you sure about this one?"

My heart hiccuped. "H-Huh?"

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I mean, he's loud. He's rude. He swears like a sailor and has the emotional range of a teaspoon," she rattled off like it was basic math. "You seem far too nice to be dating this little menace."

"SHUT UP, OLD HAG!"

"You shut up, you little feral raccoon!" she barked, grabbing him in a headlock so fast it looked like a villain takedown. She proceeded to ruffle his hair aggressively, like she was trying to erase his will to live.

Masaru, still near the coat rack, sighed. "Can we go one night—just one—without wrestling during introductions?"

And me? I just stood there, frozen in the middle of this chaotic, ridiculous, wonderful family tableau.

I smiled.

"I'm sure," I said clearly.

Silence. Mitsuki paused, her grip on Katsuki loosening slightly. Katsuki stopped squirming.

"I know he's a lot," I continued, swallowing down nerves. "But that's part of what I like about him. He's intense. He's passionate. He knows what he wants and he doesn't hold back. He's loud, yeah. But he's also honest. Loyal. Brave. And I believe in him. I'll be right there, cheering him on when he becomes Number One."

Silence. Thick and weighty.

Then laughter. A burst of it.

Mitsuki laughed so hard she nearly dropped the gift box, clutching her stomach. Masaru chuckled behind her, shaking his head with a fondness only decades of patience could shape.

I felt heat crawling up my neck. Was I being mocked?

I was going to apologize but...

"That's all I needed to hear," Mitsuki finally said, stepping forward and gently patting my cheek. Her voice was warm now. Soft. "Good choice, kid."

I glanced sideways just in time to catch Katsuki staring at the floor like it owed him an apology, ears still red as hell.

Then—he turned, muttered something about "goddamn idiots," and stomped back toward the kitchen.

I watched him go, smiling.

Then Mitsuki's hand closed around my arm with terrifying speed.

"Now, sweetheart," she said with the dangerous lilt of a woman on a mission, "while the brat finishes up in the kitchen, let me show you the cutest, most embarrassing baby photos you've ever seen in your life."

"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!" Katsuki bellowed from behind the kitchen island.

"I WOULD AND I WILL!"

And as I was dragged toward the velvet couch by a woman who looked like my boyfriend's clone in better shoes, I caught his eye once more.

His gaze was a mixture of horror, fury... and something quiet underneath. Something soft.

And I knew—despite the chaos, the shouting, the glitter-covered apron—

This was going to be a great night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

"Oh look!" Mitsuki suddenly burst out, tapping the side of the screen on her tablet with one manicured finger. "This is him after winning that kiddie foot race. He kept whining about that one for weeks—dragged me back to the track over and over until he beat everyone by at least a lap."

She laughed, her voice full of fond exasperation.

Kirishima leaned closer, squinting at the photo: a tiny, scowling Bakugou, maybe five years old, crossing a finish line with a determined glare and grass stains on his knees. His gold medal was sideways, his shirt was half-untucked, and he looked like he'd just fought a war to get there.

Masaru hummed softly, smiling as he looked over Mitsuki's shoulder. "He was so excited," he said, his voice warm and calm, like a soft wind behind Mitsuki's fire.

Mitsuki swiped again and gasped. "Oh! This is the one where he decided he wanted to dress like me for a day." She turned the screen toward Kirishima proudly. "Remember this one, Masaru?"

Kirishima let out a quiet giggle as he looked at the image—there stood a toddler Katsuki, maybe four years old, with chubby cheeks and an oversized red sundress trailing around his little ankles. His hair was tied up in a messy attempt at pigtails, and he was stomping proudly down a hallway in sparkly pink slippers, mid-scream.

Masaru chuckled, his shoulders shaking with amusement. "Ah, yeah. That was the day he insisted on wearing your heels to the grocery store. Said if people thought he looked like you, he might as well be you."

Mitsuki laughed, her eyes twinkling. "He was my little shadow. Everywhere I went, the brat wanted to follow. He used to sit under my sewing table with his own scrap fabric, pretending to design outfits. Drove me nuts. In the best way."

"But he was a papa's boy, too," Masaru added gently, glancing at another photo—this one showed little Katsuki curled up on his chest, drooling on his shirt..

Kirishima smiled, flipping through each image with genuine interest. Seeing his boyfriend's childhood this way, the candid joy and messiness of it—it made his chest warm. A rare, quiet kind of intimacy. Most people saw Bakugou as a snarling bomb waiting to go off. A relentless, explosive force with no brakes.

But not Kirishima.

To him, Katsuki Bakugou was layered. Soft at the center, burning bright with conviction. A young hero working harder than anyone else to earn the spot he already deserved.

"Oh! Here's a good one!" Mitsuki gasped, pulling up another photo. "He and Izuku went as All Might for two years straight. Look at them—matching costumes, matching face paint. Katsuki insisted on the wig even though it made him itch like crazy."

Kirishima blinked in surprise, staring at the photo. Two tiny boys—one green-haired, the other blond—grinning ear to ear in makeshift All Might gear. The capes were too long, the foam gauntlets were uneven, but the pride on their faces was unmistakable.

"I didn't know he and Midoriya were childhood friends," Kirishima said softly.

Mitsuki sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you kidding? They used to be inseparable. We had joint family trips every summer—beach cabins, festivals, all of it. Izuku adored Katsuki, followed him like a duckling. And Katsuki? He'd throw an actual tantrum if we couldn't drive him over to the Midoriyas' house after school."

Kirishima's smile faltered just slightly. He glanced at the photo again, studying the way their arms were thrown around each other, two kids who had no idea where their futures would lead. He wondered quietly...

'What happened between them?'

Mitsuki seemed to pick up on the silence. Her voice softened. "Yeah... but somewhere around middle school, we stopped seeing much of Izuku. Not really sure why. But I still see his mom—Inko's a sweetheart. We've been friends since we were teenagers. We still talk now and then. She keeps me updated on how he's doing."

Kirishima nodded, filing that thought away as Mitsuki flipped to another photo. "Oh! Look at this one—his first steps! He looked like a little drunk gremlin with fists up like he was ready to fight the furniture."

Kirishima laughed. "Aww, Kat was so cute here."

"Cute baby? Maybe. But he was an ugly newborn," Mitsuki cackled. "I swear, he came out looking like one of those weird potato aliens from those sci-fi movies. Puffy cheeks, wrinkly arms, and the angriest face I've ever seen."

Masaru smiled patiently, as if he'd heard this a thousand times. "He was beautiful," he murmured.

"Beautifully terrifying," Mitsuki teased, sipping from her mug. "The nurses jumped when he started screaming. I think one of them cried."

Kirishima snorted, trying to stifle his laughter.

"And here's the one where he tried to eat pebbles from the garden," Mitsuki added proudly, swiping to a photo of baby Katsuki crouched in the yard with a suspiciously guilty expression, mouth open wide toward a handful of gravel.

"Oi! The food's done!" a familiar voice barked from the hall.

Bakugou stormed into the living room, wiping his hands on a dish towel, only to freeze when he saw Kirishima holding the tablet full of baby photos. His eyes went wide. His face turned beet red.

"WHAT THE HELL, OLD HAG?! WHY ARE YOU SHOWING HIM THOSE?!"

Mitsuki didn't even flinch. She calmly set her mug down and stood, stretching her arms. "Relax, brat. We're helping you set the table."

Kirishima jumped up, flustered but smiling. "I—I can help! I mean, I should, right? I'm eating with you guys, so I should help set the table."

Masaru and Mitsuki exchanged a glance. Then they smiled in perfect unison.

"Oh my goodness," Mitsuki said, clutching her chest in mock emotion. "I'm not used to having a sweetheart in this house. Well, aside from my Masaru."

She reached down to pat her husband's leg affectionately, and Masaru blushed.

Kirishima laughed nervously, cheeks warm. Bakugou groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"You guys are so annoying," he grumbled, before grabbing Kirishima's arm. "Come on. If you're gonna help, I gotta show you how to do it right. I'm not letting you mess up the damn napkin folds."

He yanked him toward the kitchen, grumbling under his breath—but his grip was gentle, and his ears were still flushed.

As they disappeared into the kitchen, Mitsuki watched with her hands on her hips.

"Our baby's growing up," she said with a little sniff.

Masaru smiled, his gaze lingering on the door. "Yes, he is."

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Kirishima felt like he'd been roped into a high-stakes rescue mission, not helping prep for a nice holiday dinner. The space was warm—too warm—steamy with bubbling sauces and roasting meats, and thick with the kind of pressure that only Katsuki Bakugou could produce.

"Plate! There! Next to the damn spoons!" Bakugou barked, pointing with the authority of a battlefield general toward the far end of the elegant, twelve-person table.

"Y-Yes, sir!" Kirishima replied instinctively, nearly saluting as he scrambled to follow orders. He delicately placed the hand-glazed ceramic where instructed, adjusting it a millimeter to the left just in case.

Bakugou spun on his heel from the stovetop, clutching a steaming, shallow dish radiating heavenly smells—soy-braised duck legs, golden skin glistening beneath a lacquer of tare glaze, with faint wisps of steam carrying the aroma of star anise, scallion oil, and burnt orange zest.

He shoved it into Kirishima's arms like a live grenade. "Don't fucking drop that," he growled. "If you waste this—if you waste my duck legs—I swear to god, I'll murder you with a butter knife."

Kirishima swallowed hard, his grip tightening. "R-Right! No pressure!"

He tiptoed to the center of the table, hands trembling slightly, and gently—gently—set the platter down. Just as he pulled away with a relieved sigh, Bakugou turned.

"No! Center it, dumbass!" Katsuki snapped. "People gotta reach it."

"Okay, okay!" Kirishima hissed back, nudging it a few centimeters to the left, then the right. "Middle. Super middle. Nailed it."

Bakugou was already behind him again, this time with a tray of roasted winter vegetables—purple sweet potatoes with rosemary, miso-glazed brussels sprouts, crispy lotus root slices dusted with togarashi, and blistered onions caramelized to a deep mahogany.

"Rotate it out with the ginger-maple carrots. It balances color and texture. Don't just throw shit on the table like we're at a cheap izakaya."

"Yes, chef!" Kirishima said, already sweating like he was being grilled on national TV.

He rotated trays as ordered. The table was turning into a masterpiece—a canvas of deep hues, elegant arrangement, and edible geometry. And then, just as he was admiring the work:

"Wait," Kirishima said slowly. "Where's the space for dessert?"

Bakugou froze mid-motion, ladle still in his hand. His head swiveled slowly, like a villain in a horror movie.

"We don't have dessert."

Kirishima paled. "W-We don't?"

"You never said anything about dessert, Shitty Hair."

"Oh. Right. That's... that's on me. I-I thought there'd be like mochi or... cake or something..."

Bakugou slammed a drawer shut so hard that a whisk jumped. "You bring this up now?!" he roared. "Everything's done, the table's set, the soup is steeping—AND YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT CAKE?!"

"I was just asking!" Kirishima yelped. "I'm sorry, Kat—!"

"Do you think this is some diner where we just magically have dessert?! I can't conjure mochi from thin air!"

"I know! I know, you're right—!"

Before the kitchen exploded entirely, Mitsuki strolled in, arms folded, smirking like she was walking into a soap opera mid-climax.

"Are you two done in here?" she drawled. "Because if not, I'm about a half-glass of plum wine away from chewing through the placemats."

Masaru followed with an amused, tired smile, stepping in before his son could combust.

"Eijiro, could I borrow you for a second?" he asked kindly. "I think the tree's missing something."

Kirishima looked at Bakugou, who was visibly vibrating with stress. He gave him a sheepish look and followed Masaru into the living room.

As they passed into the glow of fairy lights, the smell of garlic, ginger, and caramelized soy still lingering, Masaru placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said quietly.

Kirishima sighed. "I just... I don't want to mess this up, y'know? This whole dinner, meeting you guys properly—it means a lot."

Masaru smiled softly, tugging at the garland shaped like tiny red gauntlets wrapped around the tree. "He's not mad at you, Eijiro. He's nervous."

"Nervous?" Kirishima blinked. "Katsuki?"

"Oh yes. Lectured us for days. Made lists, practiced small talk in front of the mirror, snapped at Mitsuki for asking if you had any food allergies—"

"He made lists?" Kirishima whispered, stunned.

"And flashcards," Masaru added with a twinkle in his eye. "Color-coded. He wanted everything perfect because you matter. More than I think even he knows how to say."

Kirishima stared at the tree, blinking back surprise.

For all the strength, fire, and bark Bakugou carried, there was still a kid under there. One who wanted this night to go perfectly.

'Katsuki Bakugou—the guy who could take down villains with a glare—was nervous about a dinner.'

That thought settled deep in his chest.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NO?!"

Their heads snapped toward the kitchen as the familiar blast of Bakugou's voice echoed through the house, followed closely by the sharp clang of silverware and a cupboard slamming shut.

Kirishima and Masaru exchanged looks before moving quickly back toward the dining room, stepping just in time into the blast zone.

"I'm saying no because you are NOT going to the store at this hour!" Mitsuki barked, arms crossed and eyes narrowed like a pro hero about to lay someone flat.

"The dessert's missing!" Bakugou shouted back, voice high with frustration. "I'm not serving a half-assed dinner without a damn finisher!"

"The dinner is perfect," she shot back, eyes narrowing. "You've done enough. You cooked eight dishes, steam-cleaned the plates, and even ironed the napkins. Sit down before your blood pressure kills the mood."

"I WANTED—!"

"I said no, Katsuki."

Even Kirishima flinched. Mitsuki's glare could probably stop All For One in his tracks. For a beat,

Bakugou looked like he was going to argue—but then he clicked his tongue, turned, and stomped out of the kitchen.

Mitsuki sighed through her nose and turned back toward them, suddenly calm as a breeze. "So. Who's hungry?"

The table was now fully set: platters of glazed duck, simmered daikon with shiitake, grilled tofu with sesame crunch, steaming bowls of white rice, tamagoyaki rolls with nori ribbons, pickled daikon and carrot slaw, and a tureen of Bakugou's specialty—spicy garlic miso soup with crispy tofu skin on top. The table shimmered under the overhead light, with polished silverware and warm sake set in tiny porcelain cups.

Masaru walked over and pulled out a chair for his wife before he looked at Kirishima. "Please, sit. You've earned it."

Kirishima looked at the feast, then toward the way his boyfriend stomped out of the kitchen.

Kirishima smiled softly.

Even if Bakugou didn't say it out loud, every dish on this table—every carefully placed napkin—was a love letter.

And he heard it loud and clear.

He turned to Mitsuki and Masaru, " I'll be right back."

Mitsuki raised a brow, while Masaru simply blinked, unconcerned. Then they both watched with dawning realization as Kirishima left the dining room with a purposeful stride.

Mitsuki grinned as she leaned back in her chair. "He's about to go wrangle our son."

Masaru sipped his tea with a knowing nod. "And Katsuki will let him."

In the living room, Bakugou was hunched at the genkan, one boot on, the other dangling from his hand. His brow was furrowed so hard it looked like he was trying to set his phone on fire just by glaring at it.

"...He wants the matcha roll? No, no, the mochi with the gold flakes. Or maybe I should've just done the damn strawberry shortcake—he likes that stupid fluffy crap—tch! Why didn't I just make dessert—"

His voice trailed off into more muttering, fingers tapping furiously on the screen as he debated last-minute bakery menus like his life depended on it. He didn't even notice the way his foot was shaking, the restlessness in his shoulders.

The frustration wasn't really about dessert.

He wanted it to be perfect.

He wanted Kirishima to feel the way he did every time the other looked at him like he was someone worth loving.

And Bakugou never said that kind of thing out loud. He couldn't. Not yet. Not like Kirishima did. But he could cook, damn it. He could set a table and choose garnishes and pick the exact kind of warm tea that wouldn't overpower the dish.

That was his language.

So of course he didn't hear the quiet footsteps behind him—until warmth slipped into his world like sunlight through a curtain.

A hand slid into his own. Big, calloused, familiar. Gentle, but confident.

Bakugou blinked, startled. Looked up.

There he was—Kirishima's hand sliding gently into his own. He blinked, startled, and looked up to see his boyfriend grinning at him with that goofy, sunshine smile.

"Come on, babe," Kirishima said warmly, giving his hand a light squeeze. "Let's eat your cooking. I've been smelling it for the last hour, and I've starving~ I'm dying to try it."

Bakugou opened his mouth to argue—because of course he did—but only managed, "I was gonna go get dessert."

Kirishima tilted his head, smile widening into something more playful.

"Kat, I've already got too much sweetness in my life," he said, eyes twinkling. "Any more of you and I'll get cavities."

Bakugou froze. His cheeks exploded into red. He looked away so fast it nearly gave him whiplash." You're fucking cheesy."

Kirishima just chuckled and reached for his other hand, folding both gently between his own.

Then came the look. The soft one. The one that made Bakugou feel like he was standing on the edge of something huge and terrifying and wonderful.

"Come on, Kat," Kirishima said, quieter now, thumb rubbing over his knuckles. "I won't eat unless you eat with me."

Bakugou's chest tightened. Stupid red-haired idiot with his big heart and even bigger smile.

'Why was he so damn good at this?'

He sighed, shoulders sagging in mock defeat. "...Fine."

Kirishima waited patiently as Bakugou kicked off his boot and shoved his house slippers back on. Then, without missing a beat, he slipped his hand right back into Bakugou's—like it had been waiting there the whole time.

"Alright, Master Chef," he said with a grin that could light up a city block. "Time to feast."

They walked back toward the dining room together, fingers laced comfortably. Bakugou's grip was a little tighter than usual, but Kirishima didn't mention it. He just held on, steady and sure.

At the threshold of the dining room, Bakugou paused.

He wasn't sure why.

Maybe it was the warm lighting or the clink of tea cups. Maybe it was seeing his parents—together, peaceful—or the quiet flutter in his chest that hadn't stopped since Kirishima showed up that afternoon.

His grip tightened just a little more.

"...Tch. Dork," he muttered, barely above a whisper.

Kirishima bumped their shoulders together. "Yours," he said simply, and that was that.

Back at the table, Masaru and Mitsuki were talking as they were sipping some of their drinks when the older couple saw their son walking back in holding hands with his boyfriend.

They exchanged knowing looks the second they saw their son and his boyfriend approaching.

Before Bakugou could sit down, Kirishima darted forward and quickly pulled the chair out for him with a proud little flourish, like a knight showing off in front of royalty.

"Here you go, Kat~" he said with a wink.

Bakugou blinked, completely stunned. His face flushed an immediate shade of pink, eyes flicking to his parents—who, of course, were grinning like it was their wedding rehearsal.

Mitsuki let out a snort and elbowed Masaru, who chuckled quietly. "Look at him! He's just like you when we first started dating," she teased, lacing her fingers with her husband's.

Bakugou's ears turned bright red. "You don't have to do that, dumbass..." he mumbled, avoiding everyone's eyes as he lowered into the seat like gravity had betrayed him.

"I want to," Kirishima said, still smiling as he leaned in and kissed Bakugou's cheek—right in front of his parents. "Besides, you cooked this whole amazing meal. Least I can do is treat you like royalty."

Bakugou made a strangled noise that could've been a protest or a flustered grunt, but either way, he flopped down into the seat with his arms crossed.

Kirishima grinned as he sat beside him. "Man, Kat, this looks awesome. Like, seriously—this could be on one of those fancy cooking shows. You even did the garnish thing!"

Bakugou grunted, glancing away. "Of course I did. I'm not a damn amateur."

Mitsuki grinned. "Oh, he practiced that line in the mirror, I swear."

Bakugou sent her a lethal side-glare, but Kirishima just nudged him lightly. "No, really. This is amazing. I'm lucky I get to eat stuff like this and call the chef my boyfriend."

Bakugou paused, chopsticks hovering over the bowl in front of him. Then he looked at Kirishima.

Really looked.

The way the other's sharp teeth peeked out when he smiled, the spark of admiration in his eyes—how he always looked at Bakugou like he was something worth admiring, even in the quiet, casual moments like this.

Every time he saw that smile, it made his chest feel lighter. Like maybe—just maybe—he could stop running for once. Like maybe he deserved to slow down and breathe.

He leaned back in his chair, letting out a soft exhale as a rare, fond smile crept onto his lips. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

Kirishima caught the look anyway. "What?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.

Bakugou just shook his head, the smile still tugging at his lips. "Nothin'. Just... glad you're here."

Kirishima's expression melted into something soft and warm. He reached for Bakugou's hand under the table and squeezed it gently, like a silent promise.

And for once, in the Bakugou household—where voices were often loud and tempers hot—everything felt peacefully quiet.

Like home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Holy cow, kid!" Mitsuki gawked, hands on her hips as she surveyed the battlefield that was once her dining table. "Every year you cook like you're feeding an army! What are you hiding a sports festival team upstairs or somethin'?"

Masaru chuckled softly and reached for his tea. "You've outdone yourself again, Katsuki," he said with a gentle smile—the kind that still made Bakugou's shoulders drop just a little, no matter how old he got. "I'm very proud of you."

Bakugou scoffed lightly, crossing his arms. "Tch. It was nothing."

But his tough-guy exterior was already starting to crack when he glanced to his right.

"Baaabe..." Kirishima groaned, one hand on his very full stomach, the other flopped limply over the back of Bakugou's chair. "That was the best thing I've ever eaten. Like... I think I saw my life flash before my eyes after that third plate."

Bakugou blinked. "You say that every time."

"I mean it every time," Kirishima said, stretching like a lazy lion, his red hair falling over one eye. "I haven't eaten that much since the anniversary dinner my moms made a few years ago. It was like... a holy event. But tonight? This is next level, Kat."

Bakugou stared at him.

His boyfriend—the same Kirishima who once wrestled a sludge villain off a child, who broke his bones during work study training just to keep pushing forward—was now curled up like a sleepy golden retriever, smiling like he'd just discovered world peace in a bowl of miso soup.

And something about that?

Made Bakugou's chest hurt in the good way.

Bakugou had always chased compliments like challenges. Praise was a thing to win. Dominate. Conquer. But when Kirishima praised him, looked at him like he'd personally hung the stars in the damn sky...

It didn't feel like a trophy.

It felt like... warmth. Like peace.

He found himself smiling. "Oh yeah?"

Masaru and Mitsuki's heads snapped toward their son in perfect unison.

"Did... did he just smile?" Mitsuki whispered loudly to Masaru like her son wasn't literally in the room. "Like, actually smile? And say something soft?!"

Masaru blinked. "I think so."

"I mean it Kat," Kirishima said proudly, puffing his chest out a little as he sat up. "You're an amazing chef, Katsuki. You can do anything."

Bakugou immediately flushed a bright pink and looked away. "Dumbass..."

Kirishima grinned like he'd just won the lottery.

Mitsuki leaned forward, elbows on the table, lips curled into a smirk. "Alright, alright. Lovebirds, enough staring at each other like a soap opera. You two—go relax. Me and Masaru'll handle the dishes."

"O-Oh, I can help!" Kirishima said quickly, already rising from his seat. "I don't want to leave you guys with the mess—"

"No no," Mitsuki waved him off. "You helped more than you know. Go on. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Masaru nodded kindly. "Please, Eijiro. You boys deserve it."

"And," Mitsuki added, wagging a brow, "I think there's a box on the coffee with someone's name on it."

Kirishima blinked, eyes lighting up. Before he could speak, he felt his arm being gently tugged. He looked up to see Bakugou already on his feet, hand loosely wrapped around his wrist.

"Come on," he muttered.

Kirishima followed willingly, letting himself be led by the hand. As they walked out, Mitsuki whispered to Masaru with a grin, "I give it three more holidays before those two move in together."

Masaru sipped his tea with a knowing smile. "Two and a half."

Kirishima felt his arms being freed once he was pulled to the couch. Kirishima blinked then he looked over to see Bakugou sitting next to him. He smiled, he opened his mouth but the other spoke first.

"Did you really mean it?" he asked, his voice quieter now. Almost... vulnerable.

Kirishima blinked at first, a little confused—until he realized what Bakugou was really asking.

He smiled softly. "Of course, Kat. I meant every word."

Bakugou looked at him for a beat, then slowly leaned back on the couch, his shoulders sinking in a way they only ever did when he was with Eijiro. "Good."

Kirishima giggled before he saw his gift to the other on the coffee table, he leaned up and handed it to the other.

" Merry Christmas Katsuki."

Bakugou glanced over and smirked. "You already gave me something, remember?" He tugged his collar down slightly to reveal the silver necklace Kirishima had given him last week. It shimmered faintly in the warm light.

"You...you were wearing it?" Kirishima asked, eyes wide.

"Duh, you idiot. You're supposed to wear a necklace. It's not some decoration."

Kirishima's heart skipped. He smiled and leaned in, giving Bakugou a soft kiss on the cheek before handing him the box. "Well, I wanted to give you something nice. You cooked an amazing dinner, and you made today feel so... warm."

Bakugou snorted. "You didn't even know I was cooking."

Kirishima pouted. "Just open the gift, jerk!"

Bakugou laughed as he took it, " God you're such a baby."

Kirishima just smiled as he watched the blonde open the gift, he was bouncing with excitement, " I saw it and I had to get it for you!"

Bakugou shook his head as he unwrapped it, once he did he froze. Kirishima was smiling like a maniac.

" Isn't it cool! It's that All Might jacket you were staring at when we were hanging out! I know it's not like the Silver Age but but it's warm and you always grumble about the cold and I thought maybe—"

"Thank you, Eijiro."

The words were so soft they nearly got swallowed by the hum of the lights.

Kirishima paused mid-ramble and blinked. Bakugou was smiling at him.

Really smiling.

Not the smug smirk or the irritated twitch of his lips—but a small, honest smile.

'He's so beautiful,' Kirishima thought, heart swelling. 'How is this my life?'

"I only stared at it once," Bakugou added, voice still quiet. "And you remembered that. You really are such a sap."

Kirishima's cheeks turned bright red. "W-Well—"

Bakugou didn't let him finish. He leaned in and kissed him.

It was a simple kiss.

No fireworks, no dramatics.

Just warm lips on warm lips. Familiar. Comforting. Steady.

Kirishima melted into it, kissing him back, his hand finding Bakugou's shirt like it was second nature.

They parted slowly, eyes still closed for a moment, foreheads touching.

Bakugou cupped his face, thumb brushing gently over the curve of his cheek, and Kirishima leaned into the touch without hesitation. They held hands quietly for a minute, the soft buzz of holiday music filling the space.

"That was a good dinner, Kat," Kirishima murmured.

"Yeah..." Bakugou whispered back. "It was."

A beat.

"OI!! I KNOW YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND NOW BUT YOU ARE STILL CHILDREN, YOU DEMON CHILDREN!!"

They both jumped about a foot in the air.

Kirishima clutched the pillow like it was a shield. Bakugou whipped around to see Mitsuki storming into the room, waving a dish towel like a sword, eyes wide with parental fury.

Masaru followed behind her with a resigned little smile. "I told her to give you boys a few minutes..."

"WE WEREN'T DOING ANYTHING, YOU OLD BANSHEE—!!" Bakugou shouted, face turning red for a very different reason now.

"YOU'RE STILL BABIES, KATSUKI! DON'T YOU 'OLD BANSHEE' ME—!"

Kirishima, at that moment, genuinely wished the couch would open and swallow him whole.

Masaru leaned down beside him and whispered gently, "Now's your chance. They'll be like this for a while."

Kirishima nodded like he was being granted safe passage by a wise forest spirit. He grabbed his coat and slipped on his boots in record time.

Just as he turned to go, he looked back one last time.

His boyfriend was nose-to-nose with his mom, yelling about boundaries and privacy while Mitsuki yelled about manners and youth being wasted on idiots.

Masaru was already setting out dessert.

Kirishima smiled.

"Merry Christmas!" he called out.

Masaru waved sweetly. "Merry—"

"WHO THE HELL YOU TALKIN' TO, YA SHIT?!"

"YOU OLD BAT, I SWEAR—!!"

Kirishima stepped outside, the cold air nipping at his cheeks, breath forming clouds in the snowy air. The world outside was quiet. Still. Magical.

Snowflakes drifted like tiny feathers from the sky, and everything was lit with soft yellow lights and the glow of winter peace.

His nose was red.

His fingers were numb.

His socks were uneven.

But his heart?

It was so, so warm.

Because Katsuki Bakugou wasn't just his boyfriend.

He was his everything.

Chapter 22: Rooftop

Third Person POV:

"YOU SHALL FEEL THE WRATH OF THE TIGER STORM!"

A deafening roar split the skies as dark clouds twisted into tiger-shaped beasts, electricity crackling off their jaws like glowing fangs. These storm-crafted predators lunged from rooftop to rooftop, sending shockwaves through the air, knocking over signs, crushing cars, and hurling civilians to the ground.

People screamed. Storefronts shattered. Streetlamps exploded. The air buzzed with static and fear.

Perched atop a flipped armored van, the villain laughed—a booming, guttural cackle that cut through the chaos. His name: Tiger Storm.

"Yes, my kitties! Take what's rightfully ours!"

 ~PRESENT MIC INTERJECTION~

"VILLAINS ARE ON THE LOOSE! Category B+ threat in downtown Hosu! Tiger Storm has unleashed elemental terror and chaos in the streets—get ready, listeners! This isn't a thunderstorm, it's a TIGER STORM!"

Villain Name: Tiger Storm
Real Name: Ryouma Jin
Age: 28
Affiliation: Underground villain networks, freelance mercenary
Threat Level: B+ Tier

Quirk: Tiger Storm (Emitter Type)

Tiger Storm can create semi-sentient tiger-shaped clouds composed of static-charged wind. These tigers, roughly the size of motorcycles, pounce and claw with enough power to shock and disrupt anything they touch. He can control up to four at a time. In close combat, he cloaks himself in lightning-charged wind, forming claws that tear through steel—but at the cost of burning his own arms with overuse.

Tiger Storm pointed dramatically down the street as a new tiger formed beside him, its eyes glowing with storm-light.

"Go to all the banks in the area. Get me the cash. Eliminate ANY distractions."

The cloud-tiger roared and tore off, barreling through panicked civilians. Tiger Storm grinned, sparks crackling in his mouth.

"I will have all the riches I want—"

"S-Stop right there!"

He paused. "Huh?"

A small voice squeaked up from the wreckage below. A little girl, no older than six, stood trembling with fists up in a crooked fighting pose.

Tiger Storm blinked, then burst into laughter. "Oh shit, this is too funny. A brat like you's gonna take me down?"

He kicked her down with a savage motion. She shrieked as she hit the concrete, clutching her ribs.

Tiger Storm raised his boot again.

"Time to say night-night~"

Suddenly—KRACK!

An ice wall burst up between them, sending frost cracking through the pavement. A boy stood there, red-and-white hair tousled, fire and ice curling from his palms.

The girl blinked up through tears. "Y-You did that?"

Todoroki bent down, voice calm. "Yeah. It's okay now. You're safe."

Another boom. The ice wall shattered as three tiger-clouds surged forward.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Tiger Storm bellowed from above.

"My name is Shoto," he replied evenly, stepping in front of the girl. "And I'm here to stop you."

"Tiger 1, 2, and 4—ATTACK!"

The beasts roared.

Todoroki raised his hand and unleashed a wave of fire. Two tigers evaporated in mid-air, their forms bursting in violent flashes of steam and static. The third tiger leapt, snarling—only to be struck by a jagged ice shard the size of a javelin, impaling it mid-roar. The collision of elements sent shockwaves through the pavement, cracking the asphalt and sending sparks dancing across the road.

"Are you able to run?" Todoroki asked, glancing at the little girl clinging to his leg.

The girl nodded, just as a fourth tiger dropped behind them with a deafening snarl.

"Too slow, hero boy!" Tiger Storm cackled, hovering above on a swirling bed of clouds and static.

The air vibrated with tension. They were surrounded.

Todoroki grit his teeth and slammed his foot into the ground. A massive spire of ice exploded upward beneath him, launching both himself and the child skyward. The sudden movement sent the storm tigers crashing into buildings and nearby vehicles, momentarily dazed.

From above, Tiger Storm's jaw dropped. "What the fuck?!"

Todoroki's sharp eyes caught sight of an open balcony. Channeling his remaining fire to guide his descent, he landed cleanly and ducked inside the building. Gently, he placed the girl behind a support column. She was still shaking, eyes wide.

"You're safe in here," he whispered, ruffling her hair before stepping back out onto the balcony.

Outside, Tiger Storm's voice echoed like thunder:

"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!? I'LL KILL EVERYONE IN THOSE BUILDINGS IF YOU DON'T COME OUT!"

Todoroki's glare deepened. A familiar fire kindled in his eyes.

He launched skyward again, riding a burst of flame and ice, slicing through the air. The collision with Tiger Storm mid-air was fierce—Todoroki barely dodged a swipe of the villain's electrified claws, the current singing his jacket.

Tiger Storm snarled, grinning maniacally. "Let's finish this!"

He slammed his palms together, and the sky itself seemed to groan. Thunder cracked. Lightning surged.

From the blackened clouds above, a MASSIVE TIGER began to take form—twenty feet tall, glowing with electric-blue veins, its fangs like lightning rods.

"Let's see you outrun this!" Tiger Storm screamed. "RAIJIN FANG!"

"ROAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!"

Its roar shook trees, cracked windows, and sent a wave of pressure blasting down the block. Todoroki shielded his face with his arms as debris flew, his boots scraping across fractured pavement.

Lowering his arms, he glared up at the monstrous cloud-beast, now glaring directly at him with glowing white eyes like spotlights. The air vibrated with electricity, the clouds around the tiger churning like a tempest.

Todoroki raised his left hand, fireball forming—dense, hot, nearly the size of a tire—and hurled it with all his might. The flame screamed through the air.

The tiger dodged, darting sideways with unnatural agility, lightning trailing behind it. Its massive paw arced through the sky, slashing at him like a meteor.

Todoroki erected an ice wall mid-air to block the blow, but the tiger's strike shattered it instantly. Shards of ice exploded like shrapnel, and the shockwave knocked Todoroki back violently. He spiraled downward, crashing onto the roof of a parked car with a deafening metallic crunch.

He hissed in pain, breath knocked from his lungs, chest heaving. He forced his eyes open. The giant tiger let out a low, purring growl as it circled like a predator. Tiger Storm hovered above, smirking, lightning dancing in his fingers.

"You see, my little kitty isn't to be fucked with! HAHAHAHA!"

Todoroki clenched his fists, dragging himself upright, battered but burning with cold determination. His uniform was torn, smoke curling from scorched patches on his chest. Blood traced a line down from his temple, but his eyes were locked forward—focused.

'How the hell is he maintaining something that big? That stable?' he thought, watching the colossal cloud-tiger ripple with lightning and unrelenting power. The beast's chest expanded with each breath, crackling energy webbing across its translucent musculature.

He shifted his stance.

The street beneath his feet hissed as he summoned fresh ice, skating forward at high velocity. Fire erupted in precise, staccato bursts from his left hand—controlled jets that flared bright orange, each one firing blazing projectiles with explosive force toward the tiger and its master.

The air turned chaotic—hot and cold currents colliding with every breath he took. His barrage of flame smashed into the tiger's flank, detonating like mortar shells. The heat flash melted asphalt, igniting a car nearby in secondary explosion. Smoke spiraled upward like black ribbons.

But the tiger didn't stop.

Its body absorbed the impacts, lightning rippling across its limbs as if feeding from the energy. It bounded forward, the earth quaking beneath each strike of its paws. A single leap spanned half a city block—its body trailing sparks and vapor. Streetlamps burst as it passed, electrical grids shorting out in flickering waves of blackout. Windows imploded from the pressure, raining glass into the streets below.

Todoroki misjudged the angle.

In an instant, the beast lunged—its jaw yawning open wide, rows of misty lightning-teeth glowing from within. Crackling arcs danced between its fangs. Wind screamed around them.

Too close.

"Shit—!"

Todoroki spun, trying to conjure a spike of ice for defense, but—

Snap!

Something whipped around his waist—tight, secure, and fast as lightning. A thick ribbon of tape yanked him back with spine-jarring force, hauling him clean out of the tiger's path.

A split second later, the beast's jaws slammed shut right where he'd stood, the sheer pressure of its thunder-infused bite detonating the air with a teeth-rattling KRA-KOOM!

Todoroki's lungs seized. His vision blurred as his body whipped through the air, completely weightless for a heartbeat, like a ragdoll tossed into the void.

Then—

Warmth.

His back hit something solid and human. An arm wrapped firmly around his torso, steadying him, holding him close. Heat—real, human heat—rushed into him through his torn uniform.

His head snapped upward, eyes wide, heart pounding.

"Hanta?"

Sero grinned beneath his black-and-yellow helmet, his wild dark hair whipping in the wind, eyes sparkling with adrenaline and sheer disbelief. "Hey, mi vida. You really know how to pick a fight."

They arced high above the battlefield on a taut ribbon of tape, streaking through the smoke-filled sky like acrobats on a high-wire. Todoroki gripped Sero's neck with his arms, his breath caught halfway between panic and relief. His body ached, but the presence of Hanta—warm, solid, real—grounded him like gravity.

Below them, the monstrous tiger reared back on its hind legs, roaring with fury. Lightning danced across its translucent fur like a neon storm, shaking the city block.

Sero adjusted his swing mid-air, twisting his body to avoid a rising plume of fire from a ruptured gas main. Tape snapped out, catching a lamppost, then another, weaving a zigzagging path that carried them upward through the haze.

They landed hard but cleanly on the flat of a rooftop, Sero absorbing the brunt of it with a slight crouch. His arm loosened around Todoroki but didn't fall away entirely, and he helped him stay upright with practiced ease.

Todoroki's chest rose and fell. He looked at his boyfriend with wide, bewildered eyes.

"How did you know where to find me?"

Sero offered a crooked grin. "Well, mi vida, I was patrolling a few blocks over when people started screaming about storm-tigers. One of them said they saw a red-and-white-haired pretty boy throwing hands with Zeus, so..." He winked. "Boom. Hanta is here."

Todoroki allowed himself a small breath of a smile. It was short-lived.

SCREEEECH.

The groan of metal being wrenched apart snapped their heads around.

"SHOTO—MOVE!" Sero bellowed.

A heartbeat later, Sero flung out twin bands of tape, wrapping around Todoroki's chest and yanking him down just as a twisted SUV—launched like a football—obliterated the rooftop they'd been standing on. Shards of concrete and flaming debris rained around them.

BOOOOOM!

The rooftop cracked under the blast, chunks falling into the alleyway below. The shockwave made Todoroki wince. Sparks sizzled in the air.

"COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE SHITS!" Tiger Storm's voice boomed from above, carried by wind and thunder. His arms were raised to the sky, fingers clawed and twitching. Crackling energy poured from them, swirling into new shapes.

More.

From above, four smaller tiger-clouds screamed into existence—streamlined and sleek like missiles, snarling with glowing eyes and lightning streaming from their tails. They roared as they dove like predators, carving through the smoke as they homed in on their targets.

"GO!" Todoroki barked.

Sero grabbed him again and swung them off the collapsing rooftop, tape hissing as it fired from his elbows like artillery. They rocketed forward, just narrowly avoiding one of the tiger-minions as it slammed into the rooftop they had just left, detonating in a thunderous blast of electricity.

They swerved around a crumbling billboard. Todoroki's boots scraped sparks off a passing sign as they whipped around a corner. One of the mini-clouds bit into a chimney just above their heads—the impact blasted brick shards into the air like shrapnel.

They landed hard on a higher rooftop, rolling into cover behind a satellite dish. Todoroki exhaled shakily.

Sero crouched beside him, panting. "Okay. Okay, you good mi vida?"

Todoroki nodded, wiping blood and sweat from his brow. "Thanks again, Hanta."

Sero gave him a quick look over, his concern showing through the adrenaline. "Anytime. But seriously—what is this guy's damage? Did you insult his weather app?"

Todoroki gave a short breath of a laugh, then narrowed his eyes, calculating. "That tiger... it's not just strong. It's adaptive. It's absorbing my attacks and building charge. Ice. Fire. Doesn't matter."

Below, the tiger prowled again—its massive form more deliberate now, more aware. Its gleaming eyes scanned rooftops, narrowing like a predator narrowing in on prey. Muscles rippled beneath its misty, cloud-like skin, the air around it warped with static energy. Every footstep left a sizzling scorch mark on the concrete, and as it moved, arcs of lightning crackled between its claws, kissing the wet ground and dancing up lampposts in a chorus of electric snaps.

Raindrops began to fall again—but not from natural clouds. The storm was thickening, centered on the beast itself. It was conjuring it. Calling it. Feeding from it. Each droplet hissed against supercharged surfaces, the world graying under the swirling tempest.

On the rooftop, Sero crouched beside Todoroki, tension carved into his every line. He squinted through the smoke and sparks.

"Great," he muttered, voice dry. "It's learning. Smart and pissed off. That's a horrible combo."

Todoroki's jaw tensed. His heterochromatic eyes tracked every twitch of the beast, but also its master—Tiger Storm hovered on a disc of swirling wind and static, trailing arcs of voltage like comet tails. His hands never stilled. Fingers tapping—no, conducting—rhythmic, precise, pulsing with intent.

"He's not just creating it," Todoroki murmured, voice like ice cracking. "He's controlling it. The storm, the beast—it's a puppet. And he's the damn puppeteer. Its structure only holds because he's close."

Sero followed his gaze, then back to the tiger, which now raised its head as if sniffing them out—eyes glinting like dual suns behind clouds. He clicked his tongue. "So we split 'em up."

Todoroki nodded. "Exactly. I need a clear shot. I can hit its core—but it has to be frozen solid. And I need time. Even seconds."

Sero's grin twisted, feral and confident. "Buy time? I'm made of nothing but time, mi vida."

Before Todoroki could answer, Sero launched himself with a twin burst of tape, flinging from one smokestack to another like a slingshot projectile. Wind howled around him. Sparks exploded near his boots as he whirled through the air.

"HEY, FLUFFY!" he yelled, voice echoing across the battlefield like a challenge from the gods.

The tiger's ears perked.

Sero hurled a web of tape at its face—a tangle of adhesive cords that slapped across its snout and pulled tight. The beast recoiled, snarling, trying to shake free as the tape tugged its head sideways.

For a split second, it was disoriented.

And then—it snapped the tape apart with a surge of lightning, vaporizing it in a flash.

But the damage was done.

The tiger's glowing eyes locked on Sero.

It roared—a sound so low and deep it rattled street signs—and lunged.

Sero reeled himself toward a lamppost, twisting mid-air, narrowly dodging a claw swipe that sheared the edge of a building's cornice. Shards of brick exploded outward. Sero swung again, booting off the wall of a building, flinging himself in a tight corkscrew as the beast crashed through the rooftop behind him like a meteor.

Chunks of debris and glass rained through the air. The tiger chased him like a guided missile—tearing over buildings, its claws turning rooftops into smoking craters. Its tail lashed through windows, ripping steel bars like vines. Thunder boomed with each of its earth-shaking leaps.

On the rooftop, Todoroki crouched low, watching for his moment.

Now.

He slammed his right palm to the rooftop—ice exploded outward, a spiraling glacier that cascaded down and across the street like a living wave. It tore through cars, signs, trash bins—everything froze in its path.

It slammed into the tiger's hind legs mid-leap, locking its limbs into jagged crystal. The beast roared, twisted violently—but it was stuck, half airborne, its mass jerking to a halt with an ear-splitting screech.

"NOW, ROKI!" Sero shouted, flipping above the tiger as it thrashed against its bindings.

Todoroki didn't hesitate.

He surged forward, flames igniting from his left arm. A vortex of superheated air whipped around him, forming a fiery spiral. He launched himself upward on a platform of ice, propelling through the smoke like a meteor on fire.

"RAHHH!" he roared, landing atop one of the smaller tiger clouds and using it as a springboard. His boots sizzled as they made contact with the storm-charged surface.

From above, Tiger Storm's eyes flared wide with fury.

"You wanna dance, icy hot?! THEN DANCE!"

He dove.

Both of his fists shimmered with lightning and howling wind, trailing arcs of power. Todoroki met him mid-air with fire swirling around one arm, ice condensing on the other.

They collided like two gods clashing in the sky—the impact detonated in a thunderclap, blasting clouds away and scattering nearby storm-beasts like leaves in a gale. Wind shrieked. Debris exploded upward in a burst of kinetic energy.

Todoroki was hurled backward, spinning through the air. He stabbed a spike of ice beneath his boot to catch himself, sliding mid-air. But Tiger Storm was relentless—already in front of him, claw-shaped bolts crackling in his fists.

CLANG!

Todoroki raised a wall of ice just in time, the impact sending a shock through his bones. Spiderweb cracks splintered the shield. He grit his teeth—blood dripping from his brow again.

"You don't get it!" Tiger Storm howled. "I don't just control the storm—I am the storm!"

He grabbed Todoroki by the collar mid-swing and hurled him downward like a bolt from the sky.

Wind screamed in Todoroki's ears as he plummeted—

WHIP!

Suddenly, taut bands of tape snapped tight around his waist. Sero appeared like a shadow from the left, looping the tape expertly to catch Todoroki mid-fall. With a sharp, practiced yank, he swung Todoroki sideways, saving him mere inches from the deadly collision.

"You really gotta stop falling for me, mi vida," Sero teased with a lopsided smirk, dark eyes gleaming with adrenaline. "You're gonna make me blush."

Todoroki coughed, cheeks flushed. "Less flirting. More fighting."

They landed hard on a massive billboard, their feet slamming into the metal with metallic thuds. The tiger below had ripped free from the glacier, its form crackling, unstable—its glowing body shuddering with too much energy. Lightning was pouring from its eyes and nostrils. The cloud was bubbling, distorting.

Sero's eyes widened. "It's overheating. He's losing control."

Todoroki nodded, already analyzing. "If we hit it now, while it's destabilizing—the energy backlash could feed back into him."

Sero clenched his fists tightly, the tape coiling and uncoiling around his forearms like living serpents ready to strike. His eyes gleamed with fierce determination beneath the storm-darkened sky. "Then let's make him regret ever bringing the storm to this city."

Todoroki stepped forward to the edge of the rooftop, his boots scraping faintly against the gravel surface. Flames flickered and danced in his left palm, bright and wild, while icy tendrils spiraled around his right hand, chilling the air. Steam hissed and swirled around him, a volatile fusion of fire and ice. "You go sticky. I'll go supernova."

Sero's grin stretched wide, full of confidence and pride. "That's mi vida."

The air around them crackled as Tiger Storm let out a furious, earth-shaking scream. "STOP RUNNING, DAMN YOU!"

"RAIJIN FANG—SECOND FORM!" The massive tiger expanded suddenly, its form twisting grotesquely. Jagged edges and whirling currents of wind swirled around it like a tornado unleashed, howling with raw, untamed energy. Its roar shattered the stillness, shaking windows and sending shards of glass tinkling to the street below.

Todoroki inhaled deeply, feeling the power surge through his veins. He raised his hands—one igniting a blazing cyclone of fire, roaring and burning like a living inferno, while the other shaped a crystalline spear of ice, sharp and gleaming like a frozen lance.

His body shimmered in the storm's dim light, steam rising from his skin as frost crept along his hairline, the faint red glow of his scar pulsing with energy.

"HEY, THUNDER PUSS!" Sero shouted from below, his voice slicing through the storm's roar. His tape shot out like whips, wrapping tightly around the tiger's massive forelegs and anchoring them to cracked light poles and bent street signs. The tiger thrashed, claws scraping metal and concrete, trying to free itself, but Sero's bindings held strong.

"You want MI VIDA?! COME GET HIM!" Sero taunted, swinging agilely between buildings as the tiger snarled and snapped at the tape, sparks flying where lightning met adhesive.

The beast gave a furious roar, breaking some of the bindings with a crackling burst—but it was enough. Just enough.

Todoroki launched into the air, soaring with the force of his fiery cyclone, arms crossed as his power radiated in waves. Time seemed to slow as he hovered above the trapped monster, then slammed both hands down with explosive force.

"HEAVEN PIERCER!"

A titanic vortex of fire and ice spiraled downward from the sky like a blazing comet, piercing through the tiger's core. The impact detonated with a deafening explosion, sending shards of crackling energy scattering like a meteor shower.

BOOOOOOM!!!

The tiger shattered violently into thousands of sparkling fragments, which fizzled and dissipated into the rain-soaked air. The shockwave tore through the block, smashing storefront windows, bending street signs, and rattling nearby buildings.

Tiger Storm screamed—a savage, guttural sound that echoed through the rain-soaked streets—as he was hurled backward with brutal force, crashing violently into a crumbling brick wall. The impact sent a thunderous explosion of dust and debris swirling through the air like a storm of shattered glass and broken stone. Chunks of brick rained down, some striking the wet pavement with sharp clatters.

Blood trickled from a deep split on his lip and streaked down his chin, mingling with the rain, while dark bruises blossomed across his temples. His arms sparked intermittently, crackling with faltering electricity as his quirk sputtered and shorted out, flickering uncertainly like a dying flame.

Sero landed lightly beside Todoroki, chest heaving as his breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat mixed with rain dripped from his tousled, damp hair, sticking in messy strands to his forehead.

His eyes shone with adrenaline-fueled triumph and a mischievous glint. "That... was badass," he said, voice rough but full of warmth. "Did I ever tell you that you're absolutely gorgeous every time you be a hero?"

Todoroki let out a soft, amused scoff, a faint blush coloring his pale cheeks despite the cold rain beating down on them. Their eyes locked for a brief, charged moment—a silent exchange of unspoken relief and deep trust in each other's strength.

Then—a sudden low groan shattered the calm.

From beneath the rubble, Tiger Storm coughed harshly, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes burned with raw fury, refusing to fade despite the pain and damage. He spat, venom lacing his words, "This isn't over—!"

"Shut up," Todoroki said flatly, voice icy and resolute as he took a purposeful step forward.

With a fluid motion, he swept his hand sharply, and a final wave of frost surged from the rooftop's edge. The ice raced toward the villain's limbs like a living serpent, encasing them in thick crystalline prisons. Spiderweb cracks spread across the shimmering ice as Tiger Storm thrashed and struggled, trapped and immobilized, utterly powerless.

"Storm's over," Todoroki declared, his voice calm but filled with undeniable authority.

Sero, never one to resist a moment of levity, gave a playful mock salute. "Forecast says sunny skies... and my super boyfriend wins."

Todoroki rolled his eyes but smiled softly. The storm, finally, was breaking.

From a nearby doorway, the little girl they had fought to protect peeked out timidly, eyes wide and shimmering with awe and gratitude. Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with wonder. "You guys... were amazing."

Todoroki knelt down to her level, offering a small, reassuring nod. "Told you you'd be safe."

Her smile blossomed like sunlight through clearing clouds, pure and bright.

Sirens began to wail in the distance—pro-heroes and emergency crews rushing to secure the scene. The chaotic battle was over, but the city was still alive with the aftermath. Steam rose from cracked pavement, flickering lights buzzed overhead, and the smell of ozone clung to the air.

Sero slid an arm around Todoroki's shoulder, pulling him close with gentle warmth and pride. His touch was steady, grounding, and laced with an affection he didn't need to say out loud. "We make a good team," he murmured quietly, voice low and intimate, meant only for Todoroki.

Todoroki leaned into the contact, allowing the moment to settle deep in his chest. The warmth from Sero's body was a quiet comfort in the chilly drizzle. "Yeah... we do," he replied softly, voice tinged with exhaustion and something warmer—relief, gratitude, maybe even more.

Sero brushed a soft kiss against Todoroki's cheek. The touch was featherlight, but it carried everything—care, pride, reassurance. The younger teen smiled faintly, a gentle glow rising beneath the surface of his skin, contentment spreading through him like slow heat.

Their peaceful moment was abruptly broken by the crunch of hurried footsteps and the sharp clicks of camera shutters. News reporters were approaching fast, eager for a scoop, their voices rising with chaotic energy.

Sero's eyes flicked toward the noise, and he gave Todoroki a crooked grin. "Uh-oh. Wanna go, mi vida?"

Todoroki rolled his eyes, smirking slightly as he brushed damp hair from his face. "Yes, please."

Without hesitation, Sero tightened his arm around Todoroki's waist and sent a coil of tape whipping through the air, snagging a nearby streetlight. With one powerful swing, they soared off the rooftop, leaving behind the noise and the chaos, trailing through the rain like a comet's tail.

Todoroki looked over Sero's shoulder, watching the reporters and flashing lights fade into distant specks. The rhythm of the city fell away beneath them, replaced by wind and quiet sky. Ahead, Sero swung confidently, muscles tense and fluid, eyes sharp with purpose.

Todoroki's gaze lingered on him, on the set of his jaw, the way the rain streaked down his helmet. A soft, blooming warmth filled his chest. Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of Sero's helmet, his arms tightening around the taller teen's neck.

Sero blushed immediately, pink dusting his cheeks beneath the helmet, but his grip didn't falter. If anything, he swung higher, faster, like Todoroki's affection gave him flight.

"Algun dia me vas a dar un infarto vida mia," he teased breathlessly.

( You're going to give me a heart attack someday my life)

They soared together above the city, silhouetted against a moonlit sky, before Sero found an empty rooftop and touched down with practiced grace. The rain had eased into a gentle mist, and the rooftop offered a rare pocket of peace.

He set Todoroki down gently, hands lingering at his waist as if reluctant to let go. The city lights cast a soft golden hue over them, flickering reflections in the puddles at their feet. The air smelled faintly of ozone and rain, fresh and electric in the aftermath of battle.

The younger teen looked up at him with a teasing smile, brushing damp strands of hair from his face. "You know, I could've used my quirk to follow you."

Sero grinned as he peeled off his helmet, his damp, tousled hair falling into his eyes. He shook it out, droplets scattering in the air like a dog fresh from water. "I know. But what's the point of having a boyfriend if I can't sweep him off his feet every now and then?"

Todoroki huffed a small laugh, one that warmed his chest from the inside. The tension in his shoulders, which had been a constant since the battle began, eased just a little. His smile was quiet but unmistakably fond. "I should head back to the agency soon."

"Aw, mi vida~" Sero groaned dramatically, exaggerating a pout as he tugged Todoroki gently into his chest, arms encircling his waist like vines refusing to let go. "I haven't seen you all day."

Todoroki raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but entertained. "We walked to class together," he began, tilting his head. "We had lunch together. We sparred this morning. We—"

"And yet it's not enough," Sero interrupted with a wistful sigh, like a lovesick poet. "Can't a man miss his boyfriend?"

Todoroki shook his head with mock disapproval, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Hanta..."

"Just ten minutes," Sero whispered, voice dipping low as he pressed his forehead against Todoroki's. Their noses almost touched. "I don't want to go back to getting yelled at for ditching patrol just yet. Let me have this. Just you and me. Right here."

The intimacy of the moment quieted Todoroki's thoughts. His breath hitched slightly, and the warmth in Sero's voice disarmed the last of his resistance.

"You're going to get in trouble," he murmured, even as his hands came up to rest gently against Sero's chest, feeling the soft thrum of his heartbeat beneath his fingers.

"Worth it," Sero replied without hesitation.

Then he began pressing soft, feather-light kisses to Todoroki's cheek—one, two, three—each one a wordless promise. Warm and unhurried. His lips moved like poetry across skin still kissed by rain.

Todoroki's face flushed a deeper red with every brush of lips to skin. He blinked, stunned by how much warmth could bloom from something so simple. His hands rose, cupping Sero's face tenderly, halting the affection—but not because he wanted it to stop.

His touch was gentle. Reverent.

Sero pouted like a kicked puppy, but Todoroki sighed with a faint, exasperated smile, his thumbs brushing lightly across Sero's cheeks. "Ten minutes."

Sero's entire expression lit up—eyes wide, lips parting into a grin so bright it could outshine the skyline. Without another word, he leaned in and kissed Todoroki deeply.

Todoroki melted into it without hesitation.

Their lips met in a perfect, tender collision—soft, searching, secure. Todoroki's fingers threaded through Sero's hair, holding him like something precious, something he never wanted to lose. Sero's hands moved to Todoroki's lower back, steadying them both, cradling him with care.

It wasn't a kiss of desperation or heat—it was patience, it was safety. It was home.

The kind of kiss that lingered in memory. The kind that whispered, "You're mine. And I'm yours."

When they finally parted, their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, breaths mingling in the still-damp air, Todoroki whispered with mock annoyance, "You're insufferable."

Sero chuckled, the sound low and rich. "You still want me."

Todoroki's lips curved upward, barely a smile, but entirely sincere. "I do."

The rain had long since stopped. The clouds had broken. The stars were peeking through. But the real warmth came from the quiet bond between them—steady, fierce, and utterly unbreakable.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shoto! You are over an hour late! I thought that villain was stopped a while ago!?"

The hallway of the Endeavor Agency shook, not from villain attacks—but from Endeavor's fury. The heat that radiated off him shimmered the air, curling it like rising smoke. Staff and sidekicks ducked out of sight, pretending to be busier than they were.

Endeavor's silhouette blazed like a monument of rage at the far end, arms crossed, fire flickering from his shoulders with every exhale.

Todoroki strolled down the corridor like the flames didn't even exist. Calm. Collected. Mildly disheveled in a way that only those who knew him well would notice—wind-tossed hair, a slightly wrinkled collar, and a faint flush across his pale cheeks.

"I had to talk to the press," he said smoothly, as if reciting a weather forecast.

Endeavor's eyes narrowed. "Really? For that long?"

Todoroki blinked. Just one second of hesitation. "...Yes."

That one word hung in the air like a balloon filled with lies.

"Tch." From his spot near the wall, Bakugou scoffed. He stood with his arms crossed, his foot tapping in that trademark I'm-about-to-roast-someone rhythm. "That's a load of PR-grade bullshit, IcyHot. Your face is redder than your fire side, and your hair looks like it lost a fight with a tornado."

Todoroki didn't break stride. "Must've been... a windy rooftop."

Bakugou's expression twisted. "Wasn't windy here, genius."

Before he could throw another verbal grenade, Midoriya rounded the corner, clipboard in hand. His eyes immediately landed on Todoroki—and widened with concern.

"Todoroki! Are you okay?" He paused, studying him. "You're... um... kind of flushed. And are your lips... swollen?"

A pause. A very long pause.

Todoroki blinked, his posture stiffening slightly as his mind absolutely did not go back to the feel of tape snapping overhead as they swung through the city, or their shared kisses beneath a fading storm, or the way how Sero's hands were holding his waist or especially not when—"

"Todoroki?"

He blinked once. Cleared his throat.

"I'm fine." His voice was smooth, ice-thin.

Midoriya took a step closer. "Are you sure? Because it kind of looks like—"

"I said I'm fine."

The temperature dipped a degree. The frostiness wasn't from his quirk—it was pure Todoroki emotion.

Endeavor dragged his hand down his face, exasperated. "I don't even want to know what's going on."

"Too late," Bakugou snorted. "Whatever it was, it wasn't hero work. Unless they changed the definition to 'lip-locking on the job.'"

Todoroki turned, deadpan.

"...So what?"

Time stopped.

Bakugou exploded into a coughing fit that echoed off the walls. "YOU—?! You actually—?!"

Midoriya dropped his clipboard. Not let go. Dropped. Like his nervous system short-circuited. His face flushed so fast it was a miracle he didn't overheat his brain.

Endeavor took a step back, his eyes wide like he'd just witnessed his son commit a crime against nature. "No. No. I REFUSE. I'm not hearing this. I am erasing this conversation from existence—"

He turned away dramatically, hands raised as if shielding himself from a curse.

Todoroki tilted his head slightly—and for the first time in days, he allowed a smug, full-bodied smirk to spread across his face. Not a twitch. Not a ghost of a smile. A smirk.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, face twisted in disgust. "You nasty bastard. You actually—"

"Okay, ENOUGH," Endeavor barked, voice strained like he was holding back an aneurysm. "That's it for today. All of you—go home, cool off, burn it all from my memory—I don't care."

Todoroki nodded. Calm as ever, he turned to leave.

But—

"Todoroki?"

He paused, sighing internally. He turned to the green haired boy.

"Yes?"

Midoriya stepped forward, his face still pink, brows furrowed now with worry rather than embarrassment. "You, uh... you have dried blood on your head. Did you get hurt?"

Todoroki blinked and lifted a hand to his hairline. Sure enough, his fingers brushed a faint crust of dried blood. A shallow scratch. Forgotten in the chaos.

"Just a scrape. I didn't notice."

Midoriya stepped forward instinctively, as if to inspect it—then froze, caught in a war between concern and boundaries. He sighed, shoulders dipping.

"Listen... I know we haven't really talked. Not since..." He trailed off, voice dipping softer. "And now we're at the same agency, and I don't want it to be weird. I just want you to know that I'm not trying to make anything uncomfortable, I—"

"Midoriya."

Midoriya stopped mid-ramble, looking up.

Todoroki's voice was steady. Not cold. Not dismissive. Just firm. "It's not uncomfortable."

"It's not?"

Todoroki shook his head. "No. What we had is over. I've moved on." His expression shifted—just a flicker. Enough to show there was something else, something good, grounding him now. "I'm happy."

Midoriya opened his mouth—paused—then offered a nod. Small. Quiet. Real.

"I'm glad," he said softly. "Really."

A silence settled—not tense, not heavy. Just still.

"Anything else?" Todoroki asked, voice light.

Midoriya gave a small shake of his head. "No. That's all."

Todoroki gave one last nod—then turned and walked down the corridor again. But this time, there was something different in the way he moved. Lighter. Like something had shifted off his shoulders.

Midoriya watched him go, the corner of his mouth quirking—not quite a smile. Something sad. But something settled.

Then—

"HA!"

Bakugou materialized like a demon summoned from salt and vinegar. "You really thought you still had a shot?! Goddamn, Deku, you're a bigger loser than I thought!"

Midoriya groaned. "Geez, Kacchan—can you not—?"

"I can't not," Bakugou grinned wickedly, flipping him off and strolling out like he owned the place.

Midoriya ran a hand down his face. "Why is my life like this..."

Then the air shifted.

A shadow fell across him.

Midoriya turned—and flinched.

Endeavor.

Looming. Silent. Too silent.

"Midoriya."

Midoriya stood straighter than a steel rod. "Y-Yes, sir?"

Endeavor's eyes narrowed.

"You and my son... dated?"

"I-I... I mean, technically—yes. Briefly. I think. It wasn't—official—exactly—I mean it was—but—"

"How long?" Endeavor asked, eyes narrowing further. "Why didn't he tell me? Why did you break up? Who initiated? Did you hurt him?"

"I-I don't—sir—I really don't think this is—"

Endeavor stepped closer, voice dropping low like he was interrogating a high-value villain. "Who is he dating now? Tell me. I saw the smirk. I felt it in my bones. WHO is it?"

Midoriya looked around like he might find a trapdoor in the floor.

"I—I—uh—well—"

"Who. Is. He. Dating."

Midoriya gulped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Kiri! Please tell me you did not take my eyeliner!"

The shrill accusation echoed down the hallway, turning a few students' heads. Mina stood with one hand on her hip, the other pointing accusingly at Kirishima, who stopped in his tracks, eyebrows shooting up.

Kirishima scoffed, clutching his chest as if wounded. "Why do you always assume it's me?!"

"Because," Mina said, marching up to him with narrowed eyes, "I know you think you're slick, but I know that eyeliner. That's the KatLine Precision Tip, and there's only one person I know who'd dare try to match their eyeliner to Bakubabe's smoky stare—and that's you!"

Kirishima looked away, ears tinged pink. "I—I was just experimenting..."

"Mhmm. Experimenting, my ass." Mina crossed her arms with a smirk. "Trying to impress your boyfriend with matching eyeliner is so transparent, Kiri."

Sero chuckled behind them, slinging his bag over one shoulder. "Damn, mi amigo. You gotta be quicker than that if you're gonna swipe from a pro."

Kirishima groaned dramatically, running a hand through his spiky hair. "You two are relentless. Can't a guy have one manly moment of aesthetic discovery without getting roasted?"

The trio strolled down the U.A. hallway, shoulders bumping playfully as they made their way toward their home room class. The air buzzed with chatter—students returning from winter break, backpacks stuffed with leftover gifts and snack wrappers.

"So guys~" Mina sang, twirling once on her heel before walking backward to face them. "Now that we're back~ tell me everything! I know about Kiri's dinner with Bakubabe's parents—hello, life milestone—but spill more!"

Kirishima laughed, cheeks slightly pink again but grinning. "Well, other than that nerve-wracking dinner and spending time with my moms—shoutout to Mom Number One for her meat buns—I got a lotta time with Katsuki. A few, uh... intense makeouts too."

Mina wrinkled her nose playfully. "Okay, ew—but also, yas king, get it!"

She ruffled his hair, making him squawk as he batted her hand away. Then she turned to Sero with a sly grin. "What about you, Mr. Elastic? Did you and Shotobaby get cozy under the mistletoe?"

Sero's smile softened into something fond. "Yeah, we had a quiet one. Took mi vida on a birthday date—he wore this soft pink sweater that made him look like a literal strawberry/snow prince, I swear—and then bam, hero agency calls me the day after like 'Hey, you busy? Wanna patrol in freezing sleet?' But I still managed to stay with him most of the break, so I count it as a win."

Kirishima nodded, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Man, I'm happy for you. You two are solid."

"Yeah," Mina said, more softly now. "Ever since you two got together, Shoto's been... different. Warmer. Still kinda scary, but in a cute way."

"Totally," Kirishima added, laughing. "I swear, I saw him pouting in homeroom this morning. Like full-on lip-jut."

"Ohhh yeah," Sero said, smirking. "That's probably 'cause I told him I wasn't feeling the new One Punch Man manga. He acted like I insulted his whole bloodline."

Mina cackled. "Sero! You can't say stuff like that! You know how seriously he takes his manga rankings!"

Sero just grinned. "Hey, Hanta Sero's a man of opinions and solutions. I'll make it up to him later. Maybe with a forehead kiss or somethin'."

Just as Mina opened her mouth to tease Sero again, something over her shoulder made her freeze mid-sentence.

Her eyes narrowed. "Wait... is that—?"

Without warning, she grabbed both boys by the front of their uniforms and smacked their chests—hard.

"Ow!" Sero winced, clutching his chest. "Dude, you're stronger than you look—what the hell, Mina?!"

"Seriously, what was that for?" Kirishima rubbed at his pec, confused.

"Shut up and look!" she hissed, jerking her chin toward the far end of the hallway.

They turned—and froze.

Approaching them like a bad omen were several unmistakable figures from Class 1-B. Tetsutetsu in his usual upbeat stride, Kendo looking slightly hesitant, Monoma wearing that smug I-live-to-be-punched grin, and Shino walking casually next to them. But what truly made Kirishima curse under his breath—and made Sero's entire demeanor shift—was the fact that Shino was holding Denki's hand.

Fingers interlocked.

Swinging slightly.

Too casual. Too familiar. Too much.

"Hey guys!" Tetsutetsu called out with a big wave, his smile completely oblivious to the quiet storm building.

"Oh fuck," Kirishima muttered, jaw tightening.

"Here we go..." Sero exhaled sharply, already dreading the interaction.

Mina tilted her head, voice barely a whisper. "This is gonna be juicy."

"Kirishima! It's been a minute!" Tetsutetsu said, stepping up and clasping hands with Kirishima in a strong, ground-shaking handshake. They bumped shoulders like old friends.

"Yeah, it has, man," Kirishima replied, forcing a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Kendo gave a soft smile. "Hey Mina. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

Mina nodded with faux brightness. "Yeah, been busy being fabulous. We should totally catch up soon, though!"

Then, like a screech across glass, Monoma opened his mouth.

"Well, well—if it isn't the three washed-up relics from Class 1-A," he sneered.

Kirishima immediately bristled, his knuckles cracking as his hands instinctively curled into fists. Sero just rolled his eyes, used to the theatrics. Mina let out an audible groan.

"Oh my god, really?" she muttered.

Monoma kept going, pointing dramatically at Denki like he was a trophy. "So? How does it feel? Huh? Having one of your own decide he'd rather be with us? Must sting."

Denki winced, eyes cast downward. He didn't say anything, but the awkward way his fingers twitched in Shino's grip said enough.

"You're a real piece of work, Monoma," Sero said, tone clipped. "Do you ever get tired of talking out of your ass?"

"Oh?" Monoma gasped mockingly, holding a hand to his chest. "I'm just repeating what everyone's thinking. I mean, a little birdy told me you stole someone's boyfriend. Pretty cold for someone with a 'nice guy' reputation."

Sero blinked. "What the actual fuck are you talking about?"

Monoma ignored him and turned his shark-like grin toward Kirishima. "And you. The Red Riot himself—dating that angry chihuahua who couldn't even stop himself from being kidnapped. Honestly, I'm amazed he can walk upright after being the reason All Might retired."

The hallway went dead silent.

Even Shino flinched.

Mina and Sero froze, glancing sideways at Kirishima, who was no longer grinning. His body started to shimmer—his skin turning jagged, rock-hard, crystalline in rage.

"What. The fuck. Did you just say?" Kirishima's voice dropped into a deep, threatening growl.

Tetsutetsu immediately stepped between them, arms out. "Whoa, whoa—Kiri, don't! He's being a dick. Don't give him the satisfaction."

"Say it again," Kirishima seethed, his body crackling with hardened plates. "I dare you."

Kendo smacked her forehead. "Monoma, we literally agreed you wouldn't be an asshole before we walked over here!"

Monoma just shrugged. "What? It's not my fault I speak the truth. It's practically a public service."

Meanwhile, Sero had turned his attention to Denki. "So this is who you hang out with now, huh?" he said, bitter.

Denki glanced up, and there was fire behind those wet eyes. "As if you care. You've got a boyfriend now. You don't care about friends anymore."

Sero's jaw clenched. "Denki, I literally—" He stopped himself before his voice cracked. He inhaled sharply, nostrils flaring.

"Y'know what? Fuck you. And fuck you, Monoma. The rest of y'all? No hard feelings. But these two bleach-blonde bimbos can go choke on a pipe."

With that, Sero turned on his heel and stormed off, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles popped.

Mina huffed, grabbing Kirishima's arm before he lost it completely. "Yeah, what he said! But nice to see you, Tetsu. Kendo. We'll text!"

Kirishima gave one last venomous glare to Monoma, then looked at Denki—his expression a mix of betrayal and disappointment—before deactivating his quirk and walking off with Mina.

Tetsutetsu watched them go, guilt all over his face.

He turned to Denki, whose eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"You good, man?"

Denki didn't answer.

Tetsutetsu looked at Monoma, scowling. "Dude. You're a fucking dick."

Monoma gave a lopsided shrug. "I call it charisma."

Before he could say another word, SMACK—Kendo chopped the back of his neck with brutal precision, knocking him out cold.

"I warned you," she muttered, hoisting his unconscious body over her shoulder like a sack of trash.

Shinso, who had quietly approached behind them, finally spoke. "Fucking finally he shuts up."

He looked at Denki, who had turned slightly away and was swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

Shinso sighed quietly, watching the trio walk down the hall in tense silence.

This year was going to be a shit show.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV

OH, FUCK THEM.

Fuck Monoma.

Fuck Denki.

Seriously—fuck all of that.

Monoma's always been a walking migraine, so that wasn't new. But Denki? Denki had no reason to act like that. No reason to throw shade like I somehow chose Todoroki over him, like I just tossed our months of friendship into the trash the second I started dating.

He knew me better than that.

He was supposed to, anyway.

But now? My hands were literally shaking, and not from nerves—from fury. That quiet kind of rage that creeps into your chest and settles behind your ribs like it's planning to live there rent-free.

I stormed down the hallway, ignoring the burn in my throat. Mina and Kiri trailed behind me, their footsteps heavy and matching the beat of my heart pounding in my ears. I wasn't sure if it was just me, or if the whole hallway got colder the second we entered the classroom—but the shift in atmosphere was instant. Heads turned. Conversations paused.

Uraraka—called out, voice soft. "Are you guys okay?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't. My jaw was clenched too tight, my shoulders locked in place. Luckily, Mina jumped in with that fake-ass cheerful tone that meant danger.

"Oh, we're great," she said, like a threat dipped in honey. "Right, Sero? Kiri?"

I just waved a hand, not even looking at her. Kirishima grunted beside me, low and quiet. That was rare. He always tried to keep things light, positive.

Not today, apparently.

I dropped into my seat, still buzzing from the confrontation. Kirishima slumped next to me, exhaling like he'd been holding in a scream. We both stared straight ahead for a beat, and I could feel the tension between us—like wires pulled too tight, ready to snap.

We were both pissed. But under that?

We were hurt.

Confused.

Like... why the hell was Denki acting like we were the problem?

Because we had boyfriends?

Because we weren't at his side every second?

That wasn't fair. I still checked in. I still tried. And that crack he made—saying I didn't care about my friends anymore? That hit me way harder than I wanted to admit.

I'm loyal to a fault. That's always been me. And he knows that.

He knows that.

I rubbed my temples, trying to quiet the buzzing in my head. Anger sat heavy in my chest, but there was something else underneath it too—something cold and sharp.

Disappointment.

Then the door opened.

Of course.

I didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. I could feel his presence before I saw him. And when Denki walked in, all quiet and hesitant like he hadn't just nuked our whole friend group dynamic in the hallway—I scoffed without thinking.

Loud. Sharp. Dismissive.

I saw Kirishima stiffen beside me, his hands curled into fists on his desk. Mina didn't even flinch, eyes glued to the front of the room like she was pretending not to exist.

God. This sucked.

Then—

"Sero?"

I blinked, turning slightly in my seat.

Tokoyami was staring at me, expression unreadable as always, but he jerked his head back. "Someone wants to know if you're okay."

I followed his gesture—and my heart cracked a little.

There he was.

Mi vida.

Mi vida was sitting in his desk, eyes soft and worried in that way only he managed to make look sincere. That same little wrinkle in his brow appeared—the one I always saw whenever I pushed myself too hard during training or skipped a meal. He was holding his notebook in one hand, but his entire focus was on me.

God, he was so—

Hot.

But mostly? Just... beautiful.

That kind of soft, untouchable pretty that made me feel like I was allowed to exhale around him.

I gave him the smallest smile. "Lo siento, mi vida. Estoy bien."

Tokoyami rolled his eyes and muttered something about "public displays of emotional damage," but I ignored him. Mi vida sighed like he was holding his breath for something.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice quieter now.

Just for me.

I almost melted. Just hearing his concern calmed the storm in my chest a bit.

"Yeah," I murmured. "I'll tell you later."

He didn't look convinced—but he didn't push. That was his thing. He knew when to give me space.

"Okay, Hanta."

God, he said my name so sweetly. Like it meant something. I gave him a wink, and he smiled—soft and crooked like he didn't know how to, but was trying for me anyway.

Tokoyami groaned. "Ugh. Why must I suffer through your tragic romance plot."

I stuck my tongue out at him and turned back in my seat.

Okay. I was still angry. But now?

It felt more manageable.

Then—

"Psst. Sero."

I looked head and saw Jirou leaning over her desk.

"What's up?" I asked.

She put her hand up to shield her mouth. "Dude. Denki's, like... crying. What happened to him?"

I blinked. Looked forward.

And there he was.

Denki sat in front of Kirishima, wiping his eyes like he was trying not to break down entirely.

For a second—just a second—I felt something twist in my chest. That instinct to comfort him. To check on him.

But then I remembered his words. His tone. The way he looked at me like I didn't matter. Like I was some selfish asshole who forgot about him the moment I fell in love.

No.

No.

He doesn't get to cry.

Not after he pushed us away.

Not after he chose Monoma of all people over us, over us.

He doesn't get to look like the victim when he's the one who left.

"Oh," I said to Jirou, forcing my voice to stay neutral. "I don't know."

She narrowed her eyes like she didn't buy that for a second, but before she could ask more—

"ALRIGHT, CLASS! TIME FOR ENGLISH~!" Present Mic's voice exploded into the room.

Jirou groaned and turned forward, grumbling something about "volume control," and I let out a long, slow breath.

Saved by the damn bell.

But before I could let myself fully mentally check out, I felt a gentle poke on my shoulder.

I turned. Kirishima was frowning.

"Dude," he whispered. "What do we do?"

I stared at him.

I wish I had an answer.

But right now? I didn't.

I was too angry, too raw, too tired.

"I don't know, man," I whispered back. "I really don't know."

Notes:

Also guys! I hate writing action scenes so this was so hard!

Chapter 23: Watching

Notes:

I hate Endeavor~

Third Person POV:

"Todoroki? Why aren't you eating?"

Todoroki blinked, pulled from the quiet spiral of his thoughts by Momo's gentle voice. He looked up slowly, the wooden chopsticks still in his hand, hovering over the barely touched bowl of soba in front of him.

Across from him sat Momo, her expression gentle, brows creased with concern. Jirou leaned in beside her, one elbow on the table and her chin resting in her hand. Tokoyami sat across from Jirou, his dark eyes calm but observant.

Todoroki sighed, setting his chopsticks down with a small clink. "I'm sorry."

Momo shook her head with a small, reassuring smile. "No need to apologize. We're just concerned—you've been poking at your soba for the last ten minutes."

"Yeah, man," Jirou said, lifting a brow. "You once told us soba was a 'sacred mealtime tradition.' Pretty sure I remember that word-for-word."

Todoroki's lips quirked faintly at that. He had said that. In fact, it was Sero who had teased him for saying it so dramatically, nudging him under the table during that same lunch and whispering, "You're a total food snob and I adore you for it." That tiny memory twisted something in his chest.

He lowered his gaze. "I'm just...worried, that's all."

"Worried about?" Momo gently prompted.

Todoroki hesitated for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. "Hanta."

The table quieted.

Momo tilted her head. "Sero? Why? Did something happen?"

Todoroki leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, his fingers laced tightly together. He stared down at his untouched soba, his jaw tightening. "We were supposed to eat at the gardens but he told me he wasn't feeling well. Said he was going back to the dorms to sleep it off."

"Is he sick?" Jirou asked, her tone sharp with worry.

Todoroki shook his head slowly. "No. Not like that. He looked—he tried to smile, but I could tell. He was upset. Tired, but not physically. Like he'd just been through something."

There was a pause, then Jirou's face darkened. "He looked like that earlier. When he walked into class after the break with Mina and Kiri—they all looked pissed. And I mean pissed. I could practically see smoke coming out of Kiri's ears."

"Not only that," Momo added. "Kirishima and Mina were acting weird too all day today. They were really quiet. Mina didn't smile like not once."

Todoroki gave a small nod, silent confirmation of what they already suspected.

His eyes darkened slightly.

"But he didn't look tired. He looked... upset. Shaken."

He remembered the way Sero had tried to force a smile, brushing him off like it was nothing. But Todoroki had seen through it—the way Sero's hands trembled slightly, the tension in his shoulders, the forced brightness in his voice. He hated seeing him like that and not knowing how to help.

"I knew something happened," Jirou muttered. "They didn't even sit near Denki. And when I tried to talk to Sero, he looked like he was holding back tears and fire at the same time."

Tokoyami, who had been quiet, finally spoke. "Sero is strong. Mentally, emotionally. But even the strongest steel can crack under enough pressure."

Todoroki's fingers twitched against the table. "I hate not knowing how to help."

He thought of how Sero had tried to brush him off that morning—his boyfriend's voice warm but hollow. The way his fingers fidgeted with his sleeve, the uncharacteristic stiffness in his posture. Sero wasn't just tired. He was exhausted, emotionally gutted. Something had broken inside him.

"He didn't say what was wrong?" Momo asked softly.

"No," Todoroki said. "But... I have a guess."

Jirou snapped her fingers suddenly. "Denki was crying earlier in class. Like really crying. I don't think anyone noticed except me and Tokoyami because Present Mic came in and started shouting about passive verbs."

Momo's lips pursed. "That would explain a lot. They've barely been talking to him since before break."

Todoroki's jaw clenched. "They fought. I overheard some of it before we left for break. Kaminari accused them of not caring about him. Said Hanta didn't care about his friends anymore because he was too busy being in relationship."

Jirou blinked. "What the hell?"

"Denki said that?" Momo asked, disbelief in her tone.

Todoroki nodded. "Hanta said it wasn't a big deal. But I could tell... it broke something in him."

Todoroki saw it in the way Sero's eyes dulled when Denki's name came up. The way he changed the subject. The way he stared at his phone, not texting. Like he was waiting for a message that wouldn't come.

His boyfriend was hurting.

"He's not the type to show it when he's upset," Todoroki said softly, more to himself than to them.

Tokoyami tilted his head, then subtly gestured toward the far side of the courtyard. "Then explain that."

The others followed his gaze.

There, sitting with a few Class 1-B students, was Denki. He was laughing, gesturing wildly as he told some story. His grin was wide, his expression bright and animated.

Too bright.

Too forced.

Jirou narrowed her eyes. "There's no way. I know I saw him crying."

"No one's saying you didn't," Momo replied gently, cupping Jirou's cheek in a soothing gesture.

Jirou flushed slightly under the touch, mumbling something incoherent as Tokoyami rolled his eyes dramatically.

"I am once again trapped in a whirlwind of emotional chaos and teenage romance," the bird-like teen muttered.

Jirou perked up, smirking. "Speaking of romance—got any crushes lately, Tokoyami?"

The color drained from Tokoyami's face before rushing right back as a telltale blush bloomed on his cheeks. "No."

Momo and Jirou exchanged a grin, and Todoroki tilted his head.

"You're blushing," he observed matter-of-factly.

"I am not," Tokoyami replied, slightly too quickly.

"Oh yes you are~," Dark Shadow cooed, peeking over Tokoyami's shoulder like a smug little gremlin.

Tokoyami sent his shadow companion a murderous glare. "Et tu, Dark Shadow?"

Momo and Jirou laughed together while Todoroki watched with a small smile, the light tension doing something to ease the weight in his chest.

"Okay, okay," Momo said, wiping a tear from her eye. "You don't have to tell us anything. But we're here if you ever want to talk."

Tokoyami sighed, then gave a small nod. "Thank you... I will keep that in mind."

Todoroki looked down at his soba. His food may have gotten cold, but something in him felt warmer now. Even if the worry remained, it helped to know he wasn't alone in it.

Still, his gaze drifted again toward the empty spot beside him—the one Sero usually filled.

"I'm going to check on him after this," Todoroki said quietly.

Momo placed a hand on his arm. "Let us know if he needs anything."

He nodded, his fingers tightening slightly around his chopsticks.

He had a feeling... whatever had happened, it wasn't over yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Shitty Hair, focus!"

The shout cracked like thunder across the frozen training quad.

Kirishima jolted, breath catching in his throat just as a spiraling explosion erupted toward him. He barely had time to react, throwing up hardened arms a split second before the blast slammed into him. The force sent him sliding back across the icy concrete, boots scraping, smoke curling around his body as the shockwave echoed into the cold.

The world stilled—then slowly cleared.

Through the haze, Bakugou stood several feet away, chest heaving, hands smoking with the residue of the blast. His eyes, always fire-hot, were narrowed—not in rage this time, but something closer to worry. His voice came rough and frustrated.

"You've got some damn nerve not paying attention like that!"

Kirishima pushed himself upright, panting, his body still tense from the blow. The red across his cheeks wasn't just from the cold anymore. "Sorry, Kat... I'll try harder."

Bakugou flinched.

That voice. It was too quiet. Too flat. Not the usual firecracker optimism he was used to from Kirishima. No jokes. No goofy grin. No, "I can take it!"—just... tiredness.

Something twisted in his gut. He clicked his tongue sharply. "Again."

From the sidelines, Sero and Mina stood huddled together in oversized jackets, their breath fogging in the crisp winter air as they watched the couple go at it again—and again—and again.

Sero exhaled, checking his phone. "They've been at it for an hour. An hour, Mina. I could've been curled up with mi vida, watching trash TV and making out under a heated blanket. Instead, I'm watching Bakugou turn his boyfriend into a training dummy in sub-zero weather."

Mina sighed, hugging her puffy coat tighter. "I know. But Kiri didn't even go to lunch today. He barely talked in class. Something's wrong."

Sero nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's... Denki. I saw the look on his face after that shit with Monoma and Denki. He didn't just look sad. He looked gutted."

Mina's voice softened. "We all felt it. Even if you and Todoroki are dating now, it still hit us hard. He was one of us."

"Yeah." Sero's jaw clenched. "Still doesn't mean Bakugou needs to take his emotional constipation out on Kiri like this."

As if on cue—

"SHUT UP, TAPE-FACE LOSER! NOBODY ASKED YOU TO STAY!" Bakugou snapped, eyes flaring like sparklers as he rounded on Sero with sharp, crackling fury.

Unbothered, Sero raised both middle fingers without breaking stride. "And yet, here I remain. Because love, baby."

Mina groaned dramatically, wrapping her scarf tighter as she shot him a glare. "Get real. You're only here because you saw Kiri being upset and your soft little heart couldn't walk away."

Sero's grin faded. His hands lowered. The playfulness drained from his posture as he looked off into the cold, pale sky. A gust of wind blew his bangs sideways.

"Yeah," he admitted softly, breath curling into the chill. "He's my bro. And he looked crushed when he saw Denki crying like that. Like... like it broke something in him."

Mina's gaze dropped to the snow at her boots. Her voice was quieter this time. "I know. It did. For all of us." She exhaled, the fog of her breath momentarily clouding her eyes. "Denki leaving didn't just hurt him. We all felt it. Even now, it's like... there's this missing piece."

Sero opened his mouth, heart tugging somewhere deep in his chest—but—

"Hanta!"

His head snapped toward the sound, his pulse stuttering. That voice—low, even—but unmistakably warm. And grounding.

There he was.

Todoroki, bundled in a long charcoal coat, dark scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, cheeks and nose kissed pink from the cold. His mismatched eyes were locked solely onto Sero, sharp and soft all at once, the way they only ever were when they looked at him.

Sero quickly stood up, " Mi vida? I thought you were back at the dorms?"

Todoroki didn't say another word.

Just walked forward.

And without hesitation, wrapped his arms around Sero's neck, burying his face into his shoulder.

Sero stood frozen for a heartbeat, stunned. Then his arms moved automatically, encircling Todoroki's waist as if on instinct.

"Mi vida...?" he murmured into his hair.

Todoroki leaned back just slightly, brows furrowed in concern. "You were upset all day. You skipped lunch, barely said anything in class, looked like you hadn't slept..." He paused, brushing a stray snowflake off Sero's collar. "I just thought... maybe I could help."

Sero's throat closed.

God.

How could someone who looked so unreadable to the world be this present? How could someone raised in cold logic and perfection be this... warm?

He pulled Todoroki in tighter, pressing their foreheads together, letting the silence wrap around them like another layer of snow.

"You're too kind, mi vida," he whispered. "I don't deserve you."

Todoroki blinked, face unreadable for a second—then softened, a smile blooming so delicately it looked like it might melt the snow itself.

"I don't know if that's true," he said simply. "But I still chose you."

Sero inhaled sharply, and his arms trembled slightly where they held him.

Chosen. He was chosen.

A beat of silence passed between them, before Sero pulled him close again, forehead resting against Todoroki's. It was a quiet, grounding touch. A bridge between hearts.

From a few feet away, Mina made a noise that sounded like a squeal wrapped in a cough. "OH MY GOD," she cried dramatically, half-laughing, half-weeping. "YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE I CAN'T FUNCTION."

Sero chuckled into Todoroki's hair. "She's gonna explode."

Todoroki hummed lightly. "Should we be concerned?"

Sero leaned back, brushing a strand of hair from his boyfriend's eyes. "Only if she starts filming."

"Already did!" Mina called from behind her mittens, shameless.

Sero chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing as he pressed a kiss to Todoroki's lips. The younger teen flushed deeper, glancing away—but didn't pull back.

"Hey, mi vida," Sero murmured, tilting Todoroki's chin up with gloved fingers, "You wanna come with us to that ramen place down the street? It's freezing and I know you skipped dinner again."

Todoroki blinked. "Don't you have three unfinished homework assignments?"

Sero flinched. "W-Well... technically—yes. But food is sustenance! Essential for brain function and you know—"

He was silenced by a soft kiss—quick, barely there—to his cheek.

"I'll go," Todoroki said, voice calm. Then added, tone sharpening just slightly, "But when we get back—we're finishing your homework."

Sero groaned like a wounded animal. "Mi vidaaaa~! That's so cruel!"

"No manga. No anime. And..." Todoroki's eyes narrowed just a bit. "No kissing."

Sero gasped, hand flying to his heart. "Sin besos?! Mi vida you wound me!"

(No kissing)

"No exceptions." Todoroki's expression was unreadable again—but the corners of his mouth twitched.

"But—what if I die?"

"Then I'll mourn you appropriately."

Sero whimpered dramatically, leaning against him. "I will perish from this."

Todoroki exhaled slowly, his breath fogging in the crisp winter air as he brushed flecks of dust from Sero's jacket. His fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary, the tips tingling with unspoken feelings. He looked down, eyelashes heavy with frost, voice dropping low—almost shy.

"...I'm only doing this because I lo—"

He stopped, the word catching painfully in his throat. His entire expression crumpled for a split second before he caught himself, cheeks blooming a furious crimson.

"Because... I care. About you Hanta."

There was a beat of stillness. The snowfall muffled the world.

Sero's teasing grin melted into something softer—deep and quiet. He stepped forward and rested his forehead gently against Todoroki's, like a promise spoken without words.

"Okay, mi vida," he whispered, voice steady and full of meaning.

Todoroki blinked rapidly, heart hammering against his ribs, and let out a tiny breath of relief. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, letting the moment cradle him.

'I almost let it slip... maybe Hanta didn't know what I was going to say...'

But some part of him hoped he did.

The moment cracked like glass.

"WE'RE NOT DONE!"

Both boys flinched as Bakugou's voice tore through the quiet training grounds like a bomb.

They turned sharply toward the noise. In the middle of the field, Bakugou stood breathing heavily, his palms still faintly crackling with leftover sparks. His stance was aggressive, shoulders squared like a caged animal, while Kirishima walked away from him with stiff shoulders and clenched fists.

Bakugou's voice flared again. "You've been off all day! I want another round!"

"Katsuki—" Kirishima's voice came out raw, tired.

"NO!" Bakugou snapped, almost pleading under the rage. "Come back and fight!"

Kirishima didn't stop—not at first. His boots crushed fresh snow as he forced himself toward the dorm path. But then—he froze. Right at the edge of the clearing. He turned slowly, his jaw working, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"...I'm tired, Katsuki."

The words weren't loud. But they landed like a punch to the gut.

Bakugou flinched.

"Tch, tired?" he barked, trying to sound angry, but there was something shaky underneath. "Tired of what? Me?! Training?!"

His voice rose, breaking just slightly.

"Is this about that stupid Dunce Face?!"

Kirishima's expression darkened. A sharp gleam of warning passed over his eyes—but Bakugou didn't see it. Or didn't want to.

"If you're gonna be a fucking hero," Bakugou snapped, "then get your shit together! You can't let one damn fight—or whatever-the-fuck-this-is—throw you off!"

Kirishima's hands curled into fists. He turned, eyes rimmed red, but he didn't blink.

"I said..."
He took a breath, voice low, but shaking now.

"...I'm tired."

Bakugou stepped forward. "What's fucking with you, huh?! All day you've been quiet, moody! You hate when I'm like that, and now you're doing it too? What the fuck, Eijirou?! Talk to me!"

"You know what?" Kirishima's voice dropped, suddenly bitter. "I'm done."

"I SAID—"

"I'M FUCKING TIRED, KATSUKI!!"

The world fell dead silent.

Even the snow stopped in the air.

Kirishima's chest rose and fell with labored breaths, his eyes wide and wild.

"I'm fucking tired, Kat! That's all! I don't want to fucking fight—I especially don't want to fight you! But you keep pushing, and pushing, and I don't know why!"

He stepped forward, voice cracking like thunder. "Why do you always choose violence instead of just asking me what's wrong?!"

Bakugou's mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Kirishima's voice broke into something raw. "I'm tired, Katsuki. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of pretending I'm okay when I'm not. I'm tired of worrying about Denki, and you, and everything—and I just need space right now, okay?! I just need you to stop."

Even the wind went quiet.

Mina stood frozen halfway across the clearing, her mouth slightly open in shock.

Sero blinked, his arms still loosely around Todoroki's waist. Todoroki instinctively pulled his scarf up higher, eyes flicking between the two.

He murmured under his breath, "This... isn't about training."

"Nope," Sero said grimly, arms tightening just slightly. "It's not."

Mina finally stepped forward, cautiously approaching Kirishima.

"Kiri," she said softly, "Hey... breathe, okay? Come on. Come with us. We'll go inside, we'll warm up, we'll eat something. We'll talk."

Kirishima's body trembled. He rubbed his face with his gloved hands, fighting to pull himself together.

"I—I'm sorry," he rasped.

Mina shook her head. "You don't have to be. You snapped. We all do."

Sero walked toward him, voice steady. "We're all are upset about Denki, man. Don't let Bakugou bulldoze you."

Todoroki hung back, watching Bakugou carefully.

He hadn't moved. His fists were clenched, but... lower now. His shoulders had dropped. And his eyes—those explosive, fiery eyes—weren't angry anymore.

They were just... lost.

Kirishima stepped forward, his voice cracking again. "Kat, I—"

"I'll be at the front," Bakugou cut him off—low, cold, almost mechanical. He stalked away, brushing past them with heavy boots and clenched fists. His breath steamed in the air. But he didn't look back.

Kirishima stared after him, the color draining from his face. His shoulders sagged like a building collapsing under its own weight.

"Damn," Sero muttered. "He looked pissed."

Todoroki exhaled quietly, eyes on the path. "He always looks like that."

Sero huffed a short laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Mina gently squeezed Kirishima's arm. "C'mon, dude. Let's go inside. Before you both freeze solid."

Kirishima didn't say anything at first. Then, finally, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

He took one last glance toward Bakugou's retreating form—then turned to follow his friends into the warm safety of the dorms.

Snow had begun to fall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Thanks for the meal!"

The waiter gave a polite nod and walked off, leaving the group to their steaming bowls and bubbling tension. Outside the window, soft snow fell under the pale winter sky, blurring the edges of streetlights and casting a muted glow on the glass. The restaurant itself was warm and cozy, thick with the smell of broth and sizzling meat.

"Oh yeah! This smells so yummy!" Mina squealed, hands practically clapping in delight as she looked at her bowl of udon.

"Mina, you are so real for finding this place," Sero said, his face flushed from the heat of the ramen and maybe just a bit from the way Todoroki's knee kept brushing against his under the table. "I needed something warm... well, other than being with mi vida," he added with a dramatic eyebrow wiggle.

Todoroki let out a small chuckle, barely suppressing the smile tugging at his lips as he took a quiet bite of his ramen. His face, still flushed from the cold outside, was gently glowing now in the restaurant's soft amber lighting.

"Fucking losers," Bakugou muttered into his katsudon, aggressively stirring the rice like it had insulted him.

Sero rolled his eyes but kept quiet, his arm casually sliding around Todoroki's shoulders again as the other boy leaned into him with a soft sigh of contentment. The warmth between them contrasted sharply with the cold tension that simmered from across the table.

Kirishima, stiff and silent, stared at his bowl, barely touching it. Since his earlier blow-up at Bakugou, he hadn't said more than a few words. His usual brightness was dimmed, barely flickering behind his red eyes.

Mina, trying her best to keep the peace, offered earlier to sit between them, but Bakugou had simply snapped, "Fuck no," and that was that.

Now she sat awkwardly beside the blonde, who was practically vibrating with unresolved rage, while Kirishima sat stiffly by the window, trapped between his thoughts and the cold glass.

Sero and Todoroki exchanged a glance—this dinner was shaping up to be something else.

"How was your break, Bakugou?" Todoroki asked in his usual calm voice, trying to smooth the air.

Bakugou glared at him with all the subtlety of a bomb mid-detonation. "Fuck off."

Todoroki blinked and went back to his food, only mildly fazed. " I see."

"Well," Sero jumped in smoothly, trying to redirect, "my break was pretty awesome since, you know, I had an amazing aquarium date and got to hang out with a total beauty~"

Todoroki's ears turned red as he ducked his head slightly. "That was nice," he murmured.

Mina kicked her legs under the table and squealed, nearly knocking into Bakugou's shin. "I can't get over how cute you two are! Ugh, I hope I find that someday. Like, actual relationship goals."

"Don't worry, Mina," Sero said, flashing her a grin. "You'll find a lucky fellow soon enough."

Mina groaned dramatically. "All the guys at U.A. are either emotionally constipated, dumb as rocks, or totally oblivious. And the last time we went out to the club, literally not one guy caught my eye."

Kirishima, for the first time all night, looked up from his bowl. "Maybe you should try looking for someone unexpected."

Bakugou's eyes cut to him sharply, but he said nothing.

Mina blinked. "Unexpected?"

"Yeah, like... not the usual type. Someone you wouldn't normally go for."

She gasped, eyes lighting up. "You know what? There was this guy in the support course who was staring at me. Kinda nerdy-cute, but in a shy inventor genius kind of way."

"See?" Sero said. "Talk to him. Nerdy guys got hidden game, I promise."

"I'm nervous!" Mina whined.

Kirishima smirked for a moment. "You? Nervous? You made friends with my bullies after threatening to twist their arms backwards. You even danced with them."

Bakugou's eyes widen as Mina scoffed. "Well, they needed some harsh truths, and you know they were just jealous of your emo aesthetic."

Kirishima choked. "Mina!"

Sero burst out laughing. "You had an emo phase!? Dude, I need pictures."

Todoroki tilted his head. "What's an emo?"

Mina gasped. "Oh Shotobaby, bless your rich,  sheltered boy heart. Emo is like... when you're in your feelings a lot and you wear dark clothes and listen to moody music."

"Like Tokoyami?"

"Exactly like that," Mina confirmed. "Only Kiri was less intense and more... eyeliner and spiked belts."

Kirishima groaned, dragging both hands down his face like he wanted to peel it off and vanish into the vinyl booth seat. "This is the worst dinner ever."

"No way!" Mina grinned brightly, spoon halfway to her mouth. "This is exactly what I needed. Food, drama, and emotional support. Like, we've got all three food groups!"

Next to her, Bakugou hadn't touched his spicy miso ramen. The steam curled up past his face, unnoticed, as his sharp eyes flicked once to Kirishima—then away. Then again. Then back down to the bowl. The silence that stretched between them was hot and brittle, like a match waiting to be struck.

Todoroki leaned closer to Sero, lowering his voice. "Should we... help?"

Sero sipped his drink and smirked behind the straw. "Nah. They'll either fight or make out. No in-between."

Todoroki blinked, then nodded solemnly. "Understood." He went back to poking at his ramen.

Mina, unfazed, chirped, "Soo~ Bakubabe, how's the food? It looks really spicy."

Bakugou didn't look up. "Fuck off."

Mina blinked, then exhaled hard through her nose. "Cool, cool, cool. Just making conversation."

Sero tilted his head. "Dude, we're just trying to include you."

"I don't need your fuckass inclusion," Bakugou growled, his voice sharp enough to cut steel.

Todoroki looked up slowly from his plate. "Then why did you come?"

Bakugou's head snapped toward him, eyes flashing. "I don't have to explain shit to you, Half'n'Half bastard!"

Sero raised his eyebrows. "Jesus."

Todoroki stood, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. "Hanta, I'm going to the bathroom." His voice was calm, but his glare was frosty. He walked off without another word.

"Okay, mi vida..." Sero muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

The tension tightened around the table like a noose. Mina and Sero both gave Bakugou withering looks.

"Dude," Sero said quietly but firmly. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Yeah," Mina added, narrowing her eyes. "You're being mean. Meaner than usual."

Bakugou bared his teeth in something that wasn't quite a smile. "I don't give a damn what you think. And I especially don't care how you feel about me."

Mina blinked, caught off-guard by the venom in his tone. But she didn't back down. She crossed her arms, voice steady. "Right. So we're still doing this, huh? You're still hung up on the idea that me and Kirishima have a thing?"

Bakugou didn't answer. But the fire in his eyes flared.

Mina leaned in slightly, voice tight but calm. "We don't. We never did. We liked each other once, when we were literal children in middle school. It didn't last, and it wasn't that deep. You think I'd lie to you about that?"

Bakugou's chair scraped loudly as he stood up, chest rising and falling. "You know what? Fuck you."

And then his glare snapped toward Kirishima—hot, furious, wounded. "And you. What, got nothing to say now?"

Kirishima looked up slowly, his face a mask of restraint. His hands were balled into fists in his lap. He pushed back his chair and stood up, shoulders squared. The red in his cheeks wasn't from embarrassment.

"Katsuki," he said, voice low and restrained, "calm down."

Bakugou barked out a bitter laugh. "No. You don't get to fucking tell me that. Not when you sit there smiling with her, whispering your little inside jokes, leaving me in the fucking corner like I don't exist."

Mina's eyes widened. "What? No—"

Bakugou ignored her. His gaze was locked on Kirishima, burning. "You say there's nothing going on, but I'm not fucking stupid. You look at each other like you're hiding something. And all this time, I've been wondering—am I the extra one here? Am I the one who doesn't belong?"

"Dudes," Sero hissed, glancing around. "People are staring."

That's when Kirishima moved.

He stepped forward, grabbed the front of Bakugou's shirt—and kissed him.

It wasn't a soft kiss. It wasn't sweet or delicate or carefully timed. It was rough, angry, desperate. Mina gasped. Sero nearly choked on his drink.

Bakugou's eyes widened, body going rigid—then, slowly, he melted into it. His fists clenched the fabric of Kirishima's sleeves like he needed something to hold him down before he flew apart.

The room fell silent around them. Somewhere, a fork clattered onto a plate.

When Kirishima pulled back, his voice was cold. "You. Me. Outside. Now."

Bakugou stood frozen, lips parted, breath ragged. His brain hadn't caught up, hadn't processed the fact that his world had just tilted on its axis.

He didn't even argue when Kirishima grabbed his wrist and pulled.

Mina quickly scooted out of the booth to let them pass, mouth open in shock. She turned to Sero, whose eyes were wide and gleaming, half-laughing behind his hand.

"What the actual hell just happened?" she whispered.

Sero snorted. "Now we know his weakness. Public displays of affection and bold redheads."

A few seconds later, Todoroki returned, towel-drying his hands on a napkin. He paused, eyes flicking toward the now-empty seats, then the still-speechless waitress clutching a notepad by the soda machine.

He blinked, then sat down next to Sero.

"...What did I miss?"

Sero leaned over, chin in hand. "You remember that chapter we read last night where the love confession interrupted the battle scene?"

"Yes," Todoroki said slowly.

Sero grinned. "Picture that, but real life. And way messier."

Todoroki raised a brow, but said nothing. Just reached out and gently slid Sero's drink toward himself. He took a sip. "I only left for three minutes."

Mina snorted. "Never again, Ice Prince. Never again."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trio had long finished eating. Their plates were pushed aside—some wiped clean, others streaked with remnants of broth or sauce, a testament to the comfort of shared food. Empty mugs dotted the table like tiny monuments to a night that had gone sideways, but somehow still felt right. The restaurant buzzed softly around them, low laughter and muted conversation humming beneath the wintery hush outside.

Beyond the windows, the frost clung in delicate fractals. City lights shimmered through the glass, casting golden smears across the snowbanks and fogging the corners of the panes. It was the kind of cold that stilled the world. But inside, they were wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence.

They talked about school. Internship horror stories. Midnight cram sessions. Recovery Girl's lecture on sleep hygiene. Sero's latest attempt to brew his own coffee in the dorm kitchen—resulting in a minor explosion and a five-hour ban on caffeine. Mina recounted her failed stealth training exam, complete with impressions of Aizawa's unimpressed face.

The conversation tumbled like snowflakes—light, fleeting, aimless.

But even with the easy laughter, there was a thread of tension weaving through the group like a taut string. An absence they couldn't quite ignore.

Kirishima and Bakugou still hadn't come back.

And it had been almost forty-five minutes.

Mina's eyes drifted toward the door for the fifth time, her chin resting on her hand as she let out a sigh. "Man, I wonder what's taking them so long. They're gonna catch a cold standing out there forever..."

Sero, leaning back with one arm draped lazily over the back of Todoroki's seat, shrugged. "Let 'em talk it out. Kirishima needs to finally say what he was feeling."

Then her eyes gleamed with mischief, cutting through the solemnity like a sunbeam through clouds. "Speaking of feelings~ Shotobaby~" she sing-songed.

Todoroki, who had just picked up his cup, paused mid-sip.

Mina leaned in, grinning wickedly. "What's it like dating my favorite elastic boy?

Todoroki blinked slowly, placing down his cup with thoughtful care. He looked at her, then at Sero.

"...It's very calm," he answered honestly, voice low and sincere. "And... safe. Like being able to exhale after holding your breath."

Sero, mid-sip of his drink, nearly inhaled it. His entire face flushed deep red, ears turning cherry pink as he coughed into his elbow.

Mina squealed, full body jolting. "AHHH! That's so cute—Todoroki, that's so poetic I could cry!"

Sero waved his hands frantically. "Okay, okay, we're done here, no more attention on us—"

"Oh, we're doing it!" Mina grinned. "Shotobaby I hope you know that Sero had the biggest crush on you before you two got together."

Sero groaned so deeply it could've cracked the floorboards. "Otra vez no, señor," he muttered, dragging his hands down his face. "Otra vez no..."

(Not again, lord. Not again)

Todoroki blinked once, then glanced toward Sero with a slow-growing smile. "I've been told," he replied, his voice touched with dry amusement—and a quiet warmth that made Sero want to melt into the seat.

Mina sighed dramatically, clutching her chest. "Shotobaby, you are so lucky to have Sero as a boyfriend. You know, before you two got together, he was constantly talking about you. Like, nonstop. He even started reading that manga you liked—the one with the terrifying snake woman villain—just to talk to you about it. And he hates horror manga."

Sero gave her a wide-eyed look of betrayal. "Mina—please—"

"And!" she added, turning back to Todoroki with theatrical flair, "He tried cold soba. Even though he hates cold food. He said it gave him brain freeze and sadness. But he did it just to have something to talk to you about during lunch."

Todoroki looked at Sero like he'd just told him the moon was his.

"...You did that?" he asked softly. "For me?"

Sero, now a vivid cherry red, stammered, "W-Well, yeah, I-I just—I mean, it wasn't a big deal—"

"And for your first date," Mina plowed on with no remorse, "he told me he was so stressed trying to get your favorite foods right because he wanted you to feel comfortable and special and not pressured—"

"Mina!" Sero yelped, slapping his forehead dramatically.

But it was too late.

Todoroki's cheeks were pinkening visibly now, a faint curl of flame rising just past his temple while snowflake-like ice crystals danced along his bangs. The temperature around the booth dipped and rose simultaneously—steam hissing slightly off his cup, condensation crackling into frost on the rim.

"Oh no," Sero panicked softly, pushing back his chair. "Vida mía, te estás recalentando y congelando otra vez."

(Oh no, my life, you're overheating and overfrosting again)

Mina winced. "Oops."

"You know mi vida gets flustered easily," Sero said, gently fanning Todoroki's flame side with his hand. "You remember the arcade? He almost set the claw machine on fire just 'cause I kissed his cheeks for winning the game!"

Mina snorted. "You guys are like an anime couple written by pure serotonin."

Sero gave her a look. " You're not funny!"

" Ha!"

Then—

"Hey, guys."

The two looked up.

Kirishima was standing at the entrance, cheeks pink from the cold—but his eyes, warm and soft, were locked on Bakugou beside him.

And Bakugou, cheeks also flushed, was holding his hand.

Real. Solid. Intertwined fingers.

Mina's jaw dropped in giddy delight.

"What happened to Todoroki?" Kirishima asked with a laugh as he noticed the small temperature war happening at the table.

Sero was still gently patting his boyfriend's hair, murmuring reassurances. "Mina exposed all my deepest simp secrets and now mi vida's stuck between melting the floor and freezing the table."

"Oh," Kirishima said. Then, with a smirk, he nudged Bakugou.

Bakugou groaned. "...I'm...sorry..."

Mina blinked in disbelief. " What?"

Bakugou growled. " You fucking heard me Raccoon Eyes!"

Kirishima nudged him again, more firmly this time.

Bakugou groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Mina froze. "What?"

"I said I'm sorry!" Bakugou barked, louder this time, face practically glowing with embarrassment. "I was mean, alright?! I snapped at you for no reason, and maybe you didn't deserve it, and—ugh—whatever! There. I said it!"

Mina was stunned into silence for a full three seconds before she let out a delighted gasp. "You're apologizing? To me?! Katsuki Bakugou is apologizing to a friend in broad daylight! This is historic!"

"Don't get used to it!" Bakugou snarled, ears now violently red. "It's not gonna happen again, damn it!"

Mina was grinning so hard it looked like her cheeks might fall off. "You know what, I forgive you, Bakubabe. Mostly because you look like you're about to combust, and also because Kiri looks like the happiest guy on earth standing next to you. Even though you can be a dick."

"YOU COULD'VE JUST SAID THANKS AND SHUT UP!"

Kirishima nudged him gently, leaning in to kiss the corner of Bakugou's jaw, and Bakugou's mouth snapped shut instantly like a short-circuiting robot.

Across the table, Sero had finally coaxed Todoroki back into balance. He tucked an arm around him and brushed his hair behind one ear, whispering, "You okay now, mi vida?"

Todoroki gave a small nod, leaning into his touch. "Yes. I'm okay. You made it better."

Kirishima watched them with a swelling heart. Sero's easy affection. Todoroki's quiet, vulnerable smiles. Mina practically vibrating with joy. Bakugou scowling but allowing himself to be held.

It was chaotic, beautiful, and very, very them.

Outside, the snow kept falling gently. Inside, the windows were fogged up from the warmth they shared—laughing, bickering, healing.

Kirishima exhaled slowly, peace settling in his chest.

Yeah.

He wouldn't trade this for anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sero's POV

"UGHHHH! This is too hard!"

I let out the most dramatic groan known to man, dragging my hands down my face like I was peeling off layers of existential despair. My pencil rolled lazily off the edge of the coffee table and clattered to the floor with the finality of a failed life decision.

Across the room, my boyfriend didn't even flinch.

Mi vida, my inexplicably perfect boyfriend of —just looked up from his book, completely unfazed, one eyebrow raised in that deadpan, vaguely judgmental way only he could pull off without sounding like a jerk.

"It's been twenty minutes, Hanta," he said flatly, tone as sharp as the edge of his jawline. "You haven't written anything."

I flopped backward dramatically, arms sprawled. "That's not true. I wrote my name. In cursive. That counts."

"You spelled your last name wrong."

"...Okay, but, in my defense—"

"You put a heart over the 'o.'"

"—I was inspired."

I looked down at my English homework, and yeah—he was right. Not a single answer written. Not even a single doodle this time. Just blank lines, mocking me. I've been here in mi vida's room for nearly two hours and still—nada.

"Are you staring at me again?" he asked without looking up.

Busted.

But come on.

How am I supposed to focus when that is sitting across from me?

Shoto Todoroki—hair fluffy and tousled from where he'd run his fingers through it, mismatched eyes glowing in the soft lamp light, face somehow carved from gentle stone—was lounging across the bed in a navy hoodie and grey sweatpants like he belonged on a calendar shoot.

The sleeves were pushed halfway up his forearms, exposing those long, graceful hands that moved with such deliberate ease as he turned another page in his book.

His lips were slightly parted in thought, brows knit as he read, pencil in hand. Every once in a while he'd hum softly, just a gentle sound in his throat, and my whole damn soul would levitate.

How is he this pretty? This focused? This unknowingly distracting?

Seriously, I must've saved an orphanage and donated my kidney in a past life, because how else do you explain me dating him?

"Hanta."

His voice, calm but cool, sliced through the haze of my thoughts like ice through fire.

I jumped a little. Looked up.

His expression had shifted. That soft patience had morphed into something firmer—jaw set, gaze steady, brows pulled together in that precise Todoroki way that didn't scream anger, but disappointment. Which, somehow, always hit harder.

"You need to finish your homework," he said, voice low but even. "Otherwise, you won't pass. And you can't be a hero if you keep falling behind. So stop playing around."

Oof. That one landed.

I swallowed and sat up straighter, guilt prickling at the back of my neck.

It's not like he was wrong. But that tone—that careful blend of worry and steel—it reminded me just how different we were. How easy it was for me to goof off, to joke, to distract myself when things got hard. And how hard it was for him to not take things seriously. To not be the one holding everything together.

"Okay, okay..." I muttered, raising my hands in surrender before grabbing my pencil like it was some kind of cursed blade I had no choice but to wield. "Sheesh."

The tension faded, but just a little. He returned to his work, but I could still feel his quiet presence anchoring the room.

The soft scratch of pencil on paper filled the silence, broken only by the occasional shift of his weight or the turning of a page. The heater hummed gently near the floor, casting the room in a kind of warmth that made everything feel slower. Softer.

Peaceful.

Still, I kept sneaking glances.

Watching the way his lips pressed together when he was focused. The little furrow between his brows when he reread something for the third time. The way his lashes would flutter, casting shadows under his eyes—long and soft, almost unfair.

He didn't even realize it, did he?

Didn't realize how he could sit there in the dullest jacket and sweatpants combo known to mankind, half a pencil in his mouth, and somehow still look like he belonged on the cover of a hero magazine.

How the hell did I get this lucky?

Eventually, I caved and slipped on my headphones. Music usually helped me focus, and with mi vida sitting so close, I needed all the help I could get.

The beat pulsed in my ears, grounding me. I found a rhythm, let the music carry me through one question, then another. Soon, the lines filled in. Sentences formed. By the time I hit the second page, I was on fire.

I was halfway through a third assignment when—

A soft poke on my shoulder.

I blinked, tugging down one earbud.

And there he was. Standing right beside me now, brows slightly pulled together, arms curled in toward himself like he didn't know what to do with them.

"Mi vida?" I asked, brows rising. "What's wrong?"

He hesitated before slowly lowering himself next to me. He didn't speak right away. Instead, his fingers found each other in a nervous tangle near his lap.

"Are you... are you mad?" he asked finally, voice barely above a whisper.

My heart stopped.

"Mad?" I blinked. "No, why would I be mad—"

"I tried talking to you earlier," he interrupted, eyes downcast. "But you didn't respond. You just... kept ignoring me."

Ah.

Shit.

My headphones.

"Oh—mi vida, I didn't mean to ignore you," I said quickly, twisting to face him. "I had music on. I didn't hear you, I swear."

He nodded, but his shoulders didn't drop like I hoped they would.

Instead, he looked down, thumbs rubbing circles over each other. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to be harsh earlier. I just... I get worried when you fall behind. You joke around a lot, and that's okay, I like that about you, but I know sometimes it's your way of brushing things off. And I didn't want to sound like my father, but..."

There it was.

The ache in his voice, the vulnerability he rarely let slip out unless he really needed to. He wasn't trying to scold me. He was scared. Scared I'd flunk. Scared I'd get kicked out.

My chest ached.

I reached out gently, brushing my fingers under his chin until he looked up at me.

"Hey," I whispered. "We talked about this, remember? You don't need to keep apologizing for caring. I'm not mad. I swear."

He blinked at me, eyes a little too wide, a little too glassy—like he wasn't used to being comforted like this.

"You care too much to be like him. You get quiet and serious when you're worried, but I know it comes from a good place." I squeezed his hand gently. "And I'm glad you care. It means a lot to me. I just... I'm not used to someone looking out for me like that."

He blinked, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. "You look out for everyone. But when it's your turn... you act like it's not a big deal."

"Guilty," I admitted, my grin a little crooked. "I'm working on it. Slowly. But I'm getting there, thanks to you."

He exhaled—somewhere between a sigh and a laugh—but his shoulders finally, finally softened just a bit.

"I know," he said quietly. "And I'm really sorry for being harsh."

"No no mi vida, you're just looking out for me," I continued, heart thudding. "And that's one of the things I lo—I-I mean adore about you."

Shit.

I nearly said it. The L-word. The big one.

His eyes widened, and I felt heat crawl up my neck, but he didn't call me out on it. He just... looked at me. Like he was trying to memorize me.

"...Okay," he said softly.

I smiled and brushed a strand of hair from his face, my fingers lingering near his temple. "Besides, you kinda inspired me to actually get stuff done. I finished early because I wanted to do this—"

I slipped my arms around his waist and pulled him in.

He tensed for half a second, then sank against me, fitting into my chest like he belonged there. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, and his breath puffed gently against my neck.

"...Hanta."

God.

The way he says my name.

It's not just the sound. It's the way he says it like a promise. Like a truth.

I leaned back slightly, resting my forehead against his. "What do you want to do now, mi vida?"

He hesitated, glancing at my lips, then back up to my eyes.

"I... actually want to talk to you about something."

My heart immediately nosedived.

Oh no.

Oh no.

This is it.

He's going to break up with me.

He's realized I'm a mediocre student and an emotional dumbass who makes bad jokes and can't keep his friends from falling apart. He's realized he deserves better.

"What is it?" I asked, trying not to let the fear crack my voice.

He reached out, gently tugging on the string of my hoodie, fingers careful.

"I just... wanted to say that I appreciate you," he said, voice soft. "I know I don't always say it the right way, and sometimes I sound cold or distant... but I do. I appreciate everything you do. I notice it. All of it."

My chest squeezed.

"You..." I breathed, smiling through the sudden burn in my throat. "You're too kind, mi vida. Truly."

I leaned forward and kissed him—soft, slow, lingering. He melted against me, hand coming up to cup my cheek, thumb tracing under my eye. We stayed like that for a while, warm and quiet and everything I never thought I'd have.

When we finally pulled apart, his cheeks were red and his lips parted in that dazed, gorgeous way.

And this was the same guy people once called emotionless?

Yeah. Right.

"Hanta... what happened before you came back to class today?"

My chest tightened again. Damn. That warmth didn't last long.

"Oh. Uh..." I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Me, Kiri, and Mina ran into Monoma and Denki."

I saw his eyes soften, his expression faltering.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

Guess I wasn't doing a great job hiding how pissed off I was.

"Well, you know how Monoma is—loud, annoying, borderline delusional. Said some crap that pushed Kiri's buttons, and then Denki..." My jaw clenched. "Denki had the nerve to say I didn't care about my friends. That I just ditched him. Like I didn't try. Like I don't miss him too."

I caught myself spiraling, biting down the angry Spanish bubbling in my throat, but—

"Dos caras, rubia blanqueada, traidor-—"

( Two-faced, bleached blonde, traitor)

A warm hand covered my mouth gently, halting the rant mid-stream.

I blinked at him, wide-eyed.

Mi vida was watching me with that calm, steady gaze. Like I was a storm he wasn't afraid to stand in.

"You don't mean what you said about him," he murmured, his voice soft but sure.

Slowly, his hand dropped away.

"...No. I don't."

"But he makes me so mad," I admitted, softer this time. "He used to be happy for me. For us. But once things got real, he changed. He pulled away. I don't know what happened, and it sucks. It just... it sucks, mi vida."

Mi vida nodded, his eyes thoughtful.

No judgment.

Just that quiet, unshakable support I'd fallen for.

"Maybe you two should talk," he said gently. "Just you two. No one else."

I groaned, flopping back dramatically onto the floor. "Mi vida..."

"I'm not saying now," he added with a small smile. "But eventually. You miss him. I think he misses you too."

I stared at the ceiling, heart twisting.

Damn it.

Why is he always right?

I stared at the ceiling, hating how much I agreed with him. But then I looked over, and there he was—shoulder pressed to mine, expression open and kind and so, so patient.

"You give great advice, you know that?" I murmured.

He tilted his head, smiling in that way that made everything else fade away. "I've been told."

I kissed his cheek—right where I knew it would make him flush.

Sure enough, there it was: that soft blush, that little smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Wanna read manga together?" I asked.

He nodded immediately. "Yeah."

We climbed onto his bed, curled up under the covers. I grabbed the manga off his nightstand and held it open between us.

"Okay, mi vida. What chapter were we on?"

"Um... the part where they were in the other side of the wall," he mumbled, already nestling against my side.

"Oh yeah! Okay!"

And just like that, we started reading. His voice low in my ear, commenting on every plot twist. His hand tucked into mine under the blanket. Every few pages, he snuggled closer until his head was resting on my shoulder.

I pressed a kiss into his hair.

I want to be a better hero.

I want to be a better student.

But more than anything—

I want to be the kind of love mi vida never has to question.

And I'll give him that.

Every day.

With every piece of me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

" No."

"Mr. Aizawa, please!" Sero practically begged, arms flailing as he chased after the tired-looking teacher dragging his sleeping bag through the training field.

The tired man didn't even look back, just sighed heavily through his scarf. "Sero, I told you why."

"But—but you can't pair me with him!" Sero gesture wildly toward the other student, horror etched across his face like he'd been handed a death sentence.

The him in question leaned against a tree with smug confidence, arms crossed. Mineta smirked, tossing a wink at an unfortunate girl nearby. "I'm more than useful. I know how to find the right spot on a woman."

Sero grimaced like he'd just swallowed bleach. "This," he deadpanned, pointing, "this is my combat partner."

"Look," Aizawa said flatly, pausing at last to glance over his scarf. "It's either him... or Kaminari."

That gave Sero a moment's pause. He blinked, then winced.

Work with the class pervert who probably couldn't go ten minutes without making things weird—or the ex-best friend who had torn him up inside just two days ago.

The hallway incident replayed in his mind: the shouting, the hurt, the way Denki had looked at him like a stranger, like something broken beyond repair.

God, his life was a telenovela and not even the good kind.

Sero groaned like the weight of the universe pressed down on his spine. "Por qué esta es mi puta vida...?" he muttered.

( Why is this my fucking life)

Aizawa raised a brow. "Your move."

'God damnit.'

It took a solid ten seconds of mental suffering before Sero finally muttered, "I'll work with Kaminari..."

Aizawa gave a solemn nod and turned toward the training field. "Kaminari! Sero's your new partner. Sato, you're with Mineta."

"What!?" Sato groaned from across the field.

Mineta puffed up. "I'm not that bad! I'm strong! And small! Like a grenade!"

Sero scowled and trudged toward Kaminari, who was actively avoiding looking anywhere in his direction. Across the field, Sato gave him a betrayed look as he walked toward his new fate.

"Thanks a lot, dude," Sato muttered as they passed.

"I didn't want this either," Sero muttered defensively, hands up. "Believe me."

Still, it didn't make him feel any less guilty.

He finally stopped in front of Kaminari, who was rubbing the back of his neck, face unreadable.

Sero crossed his arms. "This is going to be a fucking nightmare."

Kaminari didn't answer.

Aizawa clapped once, loudly.

"Okay!" Aizawa announced, voice amplified by a speaker. "Here's how this works: you and your partner will engage in three rounds of hand-to-hand combat. Your goal is to knock your opponent to the ground. No real damage, just pressure. Winners advance. Losers get quirk drills and five extra laps. Clear?"

A chorus of reluctant groans and half-hearted affirmatives echoed across the field.

"Begin!"

Chaos.

The field erupted like a battlezone. Light flared, ice crackled, explosions shook the air. The sharp bark of Bakugou screaming "DIE!" echoed across the field as smoke rolled over the grass.

Sero narrowed his eyes. "Let's get this over with."

Kaminari didn't hesitate—his palm sparked, and a glowing orb of electricity shot straight at him.

Sero flipped backward, dodging with ease. Mid-air, he fired tape at Kaminari's face, smacking across his cheek and partially blinding him. The electric orb fizzled into the dirt.

"Seriously?!" Denki grunted, missing his next shot.

Sero didn't stop—he landed hard, sprinted forward, and slammed a kick into Kaminari's gut, sending him flying backward with a grunt.

Kaminari hit the ground, rolled, and yanked the tape off. His eyes burned with a sharp heat.

"I win," Sero panted, chest rising and falling.

"You really think that's enough!?" Kaminari snarled.

Sero blinked—that tone was new.

Kaminari raised his arms, electricity crackling. Then he screamed as he fired off a wide electric wave. Blue lightning tore through the air in a scattered web.

Sero's instincts kicked in—he flung tape to a tall tree branch and yanked himself up, dodging the worst of the surge. Sparks nicked his boots.

He swung left, then right, weaving through a barrage of electric blasts like a trapeze artist under fire. But Kaminari wasn't stopping. His eyes glowed faintly now, like he was pushing himself harder than usual.

"Denki, what the hell—?!" Sero called, ducking as a lightning bolt scorched inches from his head.

Kaminari didn't answer.

Sero grit his teeth, changed course mid-air, and launched a tape line to Kaminari's legs. The tape wrapped around his calves—yank—and Kaminari toppled. Sero pulled him hard, dragging him across the field—

But Kaminari twisted mid-slide and kicked up with both feet—right into Sero's jaw.

CRACK.

Sero collapsed backward, blood in his mouth, gasping. The sky spun above him.

Kaminari stood over him, panting, eyes narrowed. "I win."

Sero spat red onto the ground. His lip was split. "Fuck training. I am kicking your ass."

He surged up, grabbed Kaminari by the collar, and threw a wild punch that sent the blonde stumbling.

Kaminari snarled and rushed forward. Their quirks were forgotten. This wasn't training anymore—this was a brawl.

Fists slammed. Knees struck ribs. Sero took a hit to the stomach but twisted and elbowed Denki in the jaw. Kaminari grabbed his arm and yanked him down—Sero shoved him off.

Across the field, Kirishima paused mid-punch and gawked. "Dude... are they fighting-fighting?"

"You should pay attention," Tokoyami muttered before Dark Shadow slammed into Kirishima's side.

On the other side of the field, Todoroki had just finished icing over Ojiro's feet in their training match when something caught his attention—a sudden yell, sharp and raw, tearing through the cold air like a blade.

His breath stilled.

His eyes locked on the two figures across the training field, thrashing, grappling, fists flying with wild, frantic anger.

Bloodied knuckles. Cracked lips. Mud-slick uniforms.

Sero and Denki.

" Hanta..."

They were on the ground, rolling violently. Sero swung a punch that cracked across Denki's cheek with a sickening thud. Denki snarled, electricity dancing off his fingers in retaliation. Without hesitation, he grabbed Sero's collar and sent a harsh jolt through his body.

Sero's muscles spasmed from the shock, but instead of backing off, he roared.

"You dick! You shocked me!"

"I was using my quirk, asshole! This is combat training, remember?!" Denki snapped, his chest heaving.

Sero's eyes blazed, "We were throwing hands and you decided to cheat?!"

"Cheat?!" Denki hissed. "Typical. Always thinking the world revolves around you. That your way of fighting is the only right one!"

The words hit like acid. Sero stepped back, breath ragged.

"Okay, dude—what the fuck is actually your problem?! Why are you being such a dick?!"

"You know why!" Denki's voice cracked.

"Then SAY it!"

"You told me I was manipulative!" Denki shouted, his voice cracking with rage and something more fragile beneath it. "You hurt me, Sero! You all did!"

Sero's jaw clenched.

"You were ignoring us," he shot back, "And every time we tried to hang out or include you, you bitched at us or ditched us completely!"

"You know why," Denki repeated through gritted teeth, shoulders trembling.

"Then say it! Why the fuck have you been avoiding us? Why the fuck are you suddenly besties with Monoma of all people?! Why are you acting like we're the enemies?!"

Denki's breath hitched. His eyes were glassy now, trembling with unshed tears.

"Because..." he whispered, voice cracking, "Because I didn't want you guys to leave me behind."

Sero froze. Everything stopped.

"I was fine at first—really. I was happy for Kirishima and Bakugou, I was! I mean, it's Kiri, y'know? He deserves to be happy. And then you..." He gestured at Sero weakly. "You and Todoroki. You guys got serious. And you didn't even tell me. I found out from Mina."

Denki's voice broke.

"I was scared, okay?! Scared that everyone would get closer and move on and I'd still be stuck there—just the dumb electric guy everyone laughs at."

He sniffed, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his shredded jacket.

"You guys were my only best friends. And then suddenly, I didn't fit anymore. And yeah—I got mad. I was jealous and petty and insecure, and I hated feeling like that. So I hung out with someone who made me feel seen."

He slumped onto the grass, blood dripping from his nose, lip split, eyes distant.

"I lost. You win."

Sero stood frozen, heart pounding, wind roaring in his ears.

"Denki..." he said softly, stepping forward.

But the blond just gave a broken smile, stood slowly, and limped away toward the edge of the training area—toward the "loser circle," as Kaminari once joked when someone was taken out early.

Now he walked there like it was exile.

Sero stared, bruised, breathless, and aching in ways that had nothing to do with his cuts.

He kicked a rock in frustration. "Fuck."

But before Sero could chase after Denki or untangle the chaotic mess of guilt, regret, and heartbreak tightening in his chest like a vice, a long, sharp shadow slashed across the grass in front of him.

He felt it before he saw it—something oppressive in the air, a shift in temperature, the instinctual stillness that comes when danger steps into the room.

His blood ran ice-cold.

Slowly, like a horror movie protagonist realizing the killer was behind him the whole time, Sero turned his head—and immediately froze.

"E-Endeavor?!"

There, towering like a monolith, was Japan's Number One Pro Hero. The flames that usually crackled from his beard and shoulders were subdued, but the heat rolling off him still felt like a furnace. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, eyes glowing like dying coals—controlled, but smoldering.

Watching.

Judging.

Sero felt like he was being flayed alive by those eyes alone.

Endeavor took a single step forward, and Sero's instinct was to step back. "Are you Hanta Sero?"

"I—uh—I mean—yeah?" Sero's voice cracked embarrassingly. He cleared his throat. "Y-Yes, sir?"

There was a tension in the air now, the kind that made your bones ache. Nearby, a few students had stopped training, eyes slowly swiveling toward the looming figure on the edge of the field.

"Hanta—!"

Todoroki's voice rang out like a whipcrack. He stormed over, frost steaming off his right side, jaw tight and eyes burning—not with fire, but fury. He moved immediately in front of Sero, planting himself there like a human wall.

Aizawa followed behind, expression unreadable but tired, his scarf already twitching in anticipation, like it could sense the need to restrain someone.

"What are you doing here?" Todoroki barked at his father, his tone rigid and sharp as glacier ice. He didn't even try to keep the edge out of his voice.

Endeavor didn't flinch. "I requested to observe training today. Principal Nezu allowed it. I wanted to evaluate the class. And this student—" he inclined his head ever so slightly toward Sero "—caught my attention."

Sero's skin crawled. His stomach flipped. Something about the way Endeavor said "caught my attention" made it sound less like praise and more like a threat. Like a hunter picking a target.

Todoroki's expression darkened, and he immediately shifted even closer to Sero, protective instincts roaring to life.

"Why him?" Aizawa asked, arms crossed now, a warning humming in his voice.

Endeavor's answer was as flat as it was unnerving. "Quick reflexes. Efficient quirk application. Agile. Adaptive." He paused, eyes flicking down to the still-unraveled tape dangling from Sero's elbows. "But... hesitation."

Sero stiffened.

Shame surged through him like a tide. Was that true? Did he hesitate? Was Endeavor right?

Todoroki's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Steam hissed from his palm.

"Leave," Todoroki bit out, his tone cold enough to flash-freeze a lake. "We didn't ask for your commentary."

The whole field had gone silent. Training had stopped. The rest of Class 1-A stood frozen, caught between curiosity and secondhand discomfort. No one moved. No one dared.

Endeavor didn't argue. He turned, boots crunching on the grass. But just before he walked away, he paused. Turned his head slightly. Just enough to pin Sero once more with those icy blue hellfire eyes.

"I'll be watching you."

The words landed like a brand on Sero's back. He physically flinched.

And then Endeavor disappeared into the shadows of the training sectors, like a phantom vanishing into smoke.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then—

CLAP!

Aizawa's sharp hands sliced through the silence. "Drama's over. Get back to work. That includes you, Kaminari."

Denki, who had collapsed in dramatic agony halfway through his punishment sets, groaned from his crumpled spot by the benches. "You're so mean..."

"Correct," Aizawa said without missing a beat as he wandered back to the sidelines with the grace of someone used to emotionally charged bombshells before noon.

Sero exhaled slowly, tension bleeding out of his shoulders, but the panic still lingered under his skin. He dragged a shaky hand through his hair, breath stuttering.

Todoroki didn't speak. He just turned, stepped close, and gently reached for Sero's hand. His fingers wrapped around Sero's, warm and firm. A grounding weight.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"I... I don't know," Sero admitted, voice low and hoarse. His eyes flicked toward the sector where Endeavor had vanished. "I think I pissed off your dad somehow."

Todoroki didn't let go. If anything, his grip tightened just a little.

"Then he's been added to the long, proud list of people with terrible taste," Todoroki said, dry and cool as ever.

Sero let out a short, startled snort. "You're such a menace."

"And I'm your menace," Todoroki murmured without missing a beat, eyes still scanning Sero's face like he was searching for cracks in the armor.

The warmth in Sero's chest threatened to melt him. But it didn't last long.

Because when he looked across the field—past the edge of the gym, beyond the second training zone—he caught a flicker of red.

Denki was still doing jumping jacks, slower now, jaw tight, face flushed. His eyes—red-rimmed and stormy—never once glanced Sero's way.

And behind him... far in the distance, half-shrouded by concrete and scaffolding...

Endeavor was still watching.

Still standing.

Still waiting.

Sero's stomach churned again.

'Oh mierda...'

( Oh fuck)

Chapter 24: Win

Notes:

Seroroki is tew good!

Third Person POV

"Whoa, dude, you look fucked up."

Sero shot Kirishima a dry glare, brow twitching as he stabbed at his egg with a pair of worn chopsticks. "Gee, thanks Kiri. Real supportive."

Kirishima held up his hands, palms out, a sheepish grin stretching his face as he leaned back defensively. "Just sayin', man. Your jaw looks like it went a couple rounds with a truck."

Across the lunch table, Mina leaned in, her eyes narrowing mischievously as she inspected the thick white bandage stretching along Sero's chin. "Damn, I didn't think Denki had it in him. What, did he headbutt you like a rabid Roomba?"

Sero flinched when her fingers ghosted too close. "Ow! Watch it—seriously, still tender."

Todoroki, who had been quietly picking at his soba beside Sero, shifted with narrowed eyes, his gaze sharp. "Mina," he said softly, a thread of warning in his otherwise calm tone.

She pulled her hands back, wincing. "Oops! Totally forgot about the part where he got kicked in the jaw. My bad."

Todoroki leaned closer toward Sero, resting his chopsticks on his tray with gentle care. His voice lowered with concern. "Hanta... are you okay?"

Sero offered him a crooked half-smile, a little too practiced. "Oh, I'm fine, mi vida. Just trying not to die before finals."

Todoroki's eyes widened. "Please don't die."

Sero blinked, chuckled softly. "Mi vida, that's not literal—okay, kinda sweet though."

At the far end of the table, Bakugou snorted, his arms crossed as he glared at absolutely nothing in particular. "What a bunch of losers."

Kirishima, unfazed, turned and arched a brow. "Whatever you say, Kat. But I definitely saw you watching the fight. From the fields after your match. With a snack."

Bakugou scowled. "Tch. As if."

"Sure, babe, sure," Kirishima said with a grin, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on Bakugou's cheek.

The explosive blonde flinched and shoved him away with a sharp elbow, but his ears turned the faintest shade of red. "Get off me, dumbass."

Kirishima just laughed, rubbing his side. "Man, I missed annoying you."

Meanwhile, Mina tilted her head toward a nearby table across the cafeteria, lips pressing together. "Yikes. He looks rough."

Everyone followed her gaze.

Denki sat slumped forward, arms crossed over his tray of untouched food. His shoulders sagged like all the voltage had been drained from his body. Across from him, Monoma laughed obnoxiously, clearly recounting some overblown version of the incident, his eyes flicking toward Denki now and then to ensure he had an audience for the punchline.

Sero's smile faltered. His brows drew together, shadows creeping into the light of his gaze. Slowly, he lowered his chopsticks and looked down at his tray.

He hadn't realized how hard his hands were shaking.

Todoroki noticed. Of course he did.

"Hanta—" he started.

"Todoroki?"

They both turned at the sound of a familiar voice. The whole table did.

Midoriya stood a few feet away, fiddling nervously with the sleeves of his blazer. His expression was hesitant, but kind. "Hey, everyone."

"Oh, hello Midoriya," Todoroki greeted, his tone polite but a little guarded.

"Yo Midoriya!" Kirishima beamed. "How's it going, man?"

Midoriya blinked at him, taken slightly off guard by the sudden friendliness. "I—uh—it's okay! How about you, Kirishima—"

"What the fuck do you want, nerd?" Bakugou barked from across the table, already scowling.

Mina and Kirishima rolled their eyes in sync as the redhead leaned toward Midoriya again, ignoring Bakugou's outburst. "Ignore him. He's just hangry. But I'm good man."

"That's good to hear," Midoriya said quickly before shifting his focus. "Um... actually, is it okay if I talk to Todoroki and Sero? Alone?"

Sero looked up, blinking. "Huh? Me?"

Mina's eyes sparkled instantly. "Ohhh, tea!" she sang, wiggling her eyebrows dramatically.

Sero groaned. "Mina, please. My jaw can't survive a second-hand drama explosion."

Todoroki turned toward him, quiet and focused. "Hanta? You okay with that?"

Sero hesitated. His jaw still hurt, and the tightness in his chest hadn't gone away since the fight. But...

"...Yeah. Sure," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's go."

Midoriya exhaled a visible breath of relief. "Thanks. It's just... kinda important."

The boys stood, chairs scraping back. Without thinking, Sero reached for Todoroki's hand. Todoroki's fingers laced through his immediately, steady and warm.

As they walked past their table, Bakugou muttered something about "emotional support hands," but Kirishima smacked him on the shoulder before he could finish.

Once they reached the exit, Sero felt another gentle squeeze at his hand. He looked over.

Todoroki's gaze was focused on him, firm and worried. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, mi vida." Sero leaned over and kissed his cheek softly, just beneath the scar. "You worry too much."

Todoroki didn't reply, but the tips of his ears turned pink.

Back at the table, Mina watched them go with a thoughtful hum, chin in her hands. "I wonder what that's about."

Kirishima shoved a massive spoonful of rice into his mouth. "Dunno. But I hope Sero doesn't bottle it up again. He's already looking like he lost a fight to an entire vending machine."

Bakugou scowled. "If he doesn't dies, I'm not going to their dumb wedding."

"You mean the wedding you'd definitely cry at?" Mina teased.

"Tch." Bakugou looked away, ears faintly red again.

Mina grinned. "I'll bring tissues just for you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You did what?!"

The word exploded out of Todoroki like a gunshot. The air shifted—hot and oppressive, like the moment before a thunderstorm, heavy with unspoken rage.

Midoriya flinched, visibly shrinking under the weight of Todoroki's voice.

"Okay—now, before you get mad—" he stammered, arms raised defensively, voice already wobbling.

"Midoriya," Todoroki hissed, stepping forward with deliberate, tightly controlled anger. "What the fuck did you tell my father?!"

Sero sighed so hard his lungs hurt and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god," he muttered under his breath, already regretting waking up today.

Midoriya's mouth opened and closed like a fish caught on dry land. "I-I didn't mean to!" he blurted. "He just—he kept asking! He cornered me in the hallway, and he wouldn't let me leave unless I said something!"

Todoroki's glare sharpened, his eyes narrowing to twin blades. A pulse of cold erupted from his right side, flash-freezing the patch of grass underfoot. But flames flared up at his left temple too—his whole body was at war with itself, emotion surging through his bloodstream too fast for logic to keep up.

His quirk was responding before his brain could catch up.

Sero immediately stepped forward and held out a calming hand. "Midoriya—what exactly did you say to Endeavor?"

Midoriya let out a little whimper and shifted on his feet. "O-Okay. So, first... he asked if Todoroki and I were still together. And I told him no. That we... broke up. Peacefully. R-Respectfully."

Todoroki's flames flared higher, licking along the side of his face like a warning. As the ice from his right side started frosting where he was standing.

Midoriya winced. "T-Then he asked if Todoroki was... seeing someone new. And I tried to leave, I swear! But he blocked the hallway and kept pushing—like literally leaning over me, and his voice was all low and intimidating and—"

"And you cracked," Todoroki snapped. "You told him."

"I panicked!" Midoriya squeaked. "I said you were... that you were dating Sero!"

Silence.

Sero blinked slowly. "Right," he muttered. "So that's why he looked at me like I was a roach crawling on his shoe."

Todoroki took a sharp step forward, fire now rolling off of him in hot waves. "Midoriya, do you have any idea what you've done?!"

"I-I didn't mean to, Todoroki, I swear—!"

"You always say that!" Todoroki growled, his voice louder, deeper, barely held back. "But you still told him. You told him something that wasn't even yours to tell. Do you have any concept of what that means?! What he's going to do now?!"

"I just—he was scary!" Midoriya said desperately, voice shaking. "He kept asking questions and I—I didn't know what to do!"

Todoroki's fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles were bone-white. "You had one job: say nothing. That was all you had to do."

"Shoto—mi vida—please breathe," Sero said quickly, stepping in again. His voice was low and calm, but edged with worry. "We can talk through this."

"Hanta!" Todoroki's eyes snapped to his boyfriend now. "He told my father about us! You know how bad that is. You know what this could mean."

"I do know," Sero said evenly, but his voice was losing some of its calm. "But you're escalating. Let's take a breath and think before—"

"Think?!" Todoroki barked, his voice suddenly breaking. "Do you think he's going to take this well?! He's going to pick this apart, twist it, use it like he always does! You don't know him like I do. He'll ruin this. He always ruin everything important to me. He ruins everything!"

There was a loud fwoosh and a scorch mark and a wave of ice bloomed on the grass nearby. The air shimmered with heat and frost distortion. Sero immediately stepped back, hand half-raised in defense.

Todoroki was shaking now—not just with anger, but something rawer underneath it. Something that looked an awful lot like fear.

Midoriya stood frozen, guilt and horror etched across his face.

The flames along Todoroki's arm sparked violently, then sputtered out. He turned away, breathing uneven.

"I... I need to be alone," he muttered.

"Mi vida, wait—" Sero started, but Todoroki didn't stop. He stomped across the courtyard, each step scorching the grass beneath his shoes, until he vanished around the corner, a trail of smoke drifting in his wake.

The silence left behind was deafening. Thick. Heavy. Like the air before a thunderstorm.

"...Well," Sero muttered, exhaling hard through his nose. "This is officially the worst Wednesday ever."

He barely had time to process the emotional whiplash before he heard the unmistakable sound of sniffling.

Turning slowly, he saw Midoriya a few feet away, arms tightly wrapped around himself, shoulders trembling. The green-haired boy sniffed loudly and tried to wipe at his eyes with the sleeves of his uniform jacket. "I-I'm so sorry," he hiccuped.

Sero blinked. "Oh no," he muttered. "No no no..."

Because there it was—Midoriya crying. Again.

Sero pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Why is this my life?'

"Midoriya," he said, keeping his tone level, stepping forward until he was within reach. He rested a hand on the shorter boy's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "I need you to be one-thousand percent honest with me right now."

Midoriya blinked up at him, eyes red and glossy, lips wobbling. He gave a shaky nod.

Sero exhaled. "Did you tell him on purpose?"

Midoriya's eyes widened with horror, like Sero had slapped him. "No! I-I swear, I didn't! I didn't want to tell him, I just—he's scary, okay?! Todoroki's dad is like... terrifying! He cornered me in the hallway and started grilling me about Todoroki's recent behavior and then he glared at me, and I—I cracked!"

Sero raised a brow, not convinced.

Midoriya's lip trembled more violently. "I-I know it's awkward and weird and... yeah, I was jealous. I mean—not in a sabotage-y way! Just in a... quiet, pathetic kind of way. I felt like I could never be what Todoroki needed. But then I remembered that I wasn't there as much. I was too focus on training. I didn't be there him. I wasn't a good boyfriend at all. But I am happy for you two, okay? I really am!"

Sero blinked.

That... actually sounded painfully genuine.

Midoriya wiped at his face again, smearing a tear across his cheek. "Sero, I didn't mean to out him. I didn't mean to hurt him or hurt you. I'm so, so sorry...I ruin everything..."

Sero rubbed a hand over his face.

He wanted to be mad. It would've made things simpler. But the guy in front of him was just a weepy mess of guilt, anxiety, and bad luck.

'Why couldn't mi vida's ex be an arrogant jerk with a punchable face? Like Bakugou? That would make this so much easier.'

Sero sighed. "You didn't ruin everything."

Midoriya blinked up at him. "I-I didn't?"

"I mean... I wouldn't say you helped. But no, you didn't ruin it," Sero muttered, before patting Midoriya's back with an awkward hand. "It's okay, mi amigo."

"You're not mad?"

"Of course I'm mad," Sero said plainly. "But I don't think you did it out of cruelty. And hey, mi vida's mad, but he's not dumb. He'll get it. Just... not tonight."

Midoriya looked down, ashamed. "He's gonna hate me."

"No," Sero replied honestly. "But maybe avoid him for a little bit. He needs time to cool off."

"...Or heat up," Midoriya added miserably.

Sero winced. "Okay. Too soon."

Midoriya groaned and dropped his forehead against Sero's shoulder. "I really am the worst. How can I be a hero when I can't even keep my mouth shut?"

"Alright, pity party's over," Sero said, gently but firmly grabbing Midoriya by the shoulders. "You're not a bad person and you are a hero. You panicked. It happens. Especially under pressure. That guy's got flames for a beard and yells like he's got a megaphone in his lungs—who wouldn't panic?"

"But I hurt him..." Midoriya whispered. "I betrayed him."

Sero paused.

"...Okay. Yeah. You did kinda out him to his super-controlling fire-demon of a dad."

Midoriya let out a small squeaky sob—and then immediately burst into loud, full-on waterworks.

Sero groaned into his hands. "Oh come on—Midoriya, please don't cry—"

"I-I'm *hic* so sorry!" Midoriya wailed. "I-I j-just w-wanted to be helpful! I didn't mean to ruin everything!"

"You didn't ruin everything," Sero tried to insist, but it was drowned out by the sound of Midoriya's full-body sobbing. People walking down the hall started whispering.

Sero reluctantly pulled him into a hug, awkwardly rubbing his back like one might with a particularly delicate blender on the verge of explosion.

Midoriya cried harder. "I-I think I got snot on your shirt..."

"Yep," Sero muttered. "Definitely cursed."

He looked up at the sky like it might offer divine reprieve. "God, if you're listening... really funny, man. Hilarious."

There was a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

Sero sighed. "Figures."

Midoriya hiccuped into his chest one more time before settling into quiet sniffles. Sero pulled back and placed his hands firmly on the shorter's shoulders.

"Alright," he muttered. "You're gonna to clean your face, go back to lunch, drink some water, maybe eat something and hide from Roki for like... three days. I'll handle him."

Midoriya nodded weakly.

"And if he does come at you, just remember—ice is easier to dodge than fire."

Midoriya whimpered. "That doesn't help..."

Sero sighed again. "Yeah. Didn't think so."

But still, he offered a small, crooked smile. "You'll be okay, Midoriya."

"...You think?"

"I know."

And maybe, just maybe, if the gods were merciful for once... Todoroki wouldn't kill them both.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wait, wait, wait—you said you were hugging Midoriya?" Kirishima leaned forward on the couch, brows furrowing as he gripped a protein bar halfway to his mouth.

Sero slouched, legs spread, head tilted back to stare at the dorm ceiling like it might open up and give him an escape. "Yep," he said, voice flat.

Kirishima blinked. "So you were... comforting... your boyfriend's ex? In public?"

"Pretty much." Sero shrugged, but his eyes betrayed him—tight around the corners, glossed with fatigue, and swirling with something far heavier than he was willing to admit outright.

Mina let out a theatrical groan, flopping onto her back across the cushions like a tragic heroine. "Oh, Midoriya... that sweet, clueless little crybaby. He probably sobbed all over you, didn't he?"

Sero gave a soft scoff, rubbing the back of his neck as a weak smile tugged at the edge of his lips. "He did, actually. Like, full-on nose-running, sniffling, shirt-staining ugly crying. I think I still have snot on my sleeve."

Kirishima chuckled, but it was tempered with genuine concern. "What even happened?"

Sero hesitated. His fingers twisted the hem of his hoodie, knuckles whitening. "I can't tell you everything—it's mi vida's to share. But just know... if you don't see Midoriya for a few days? Blame mi vida."

Mina sat up sharply. "Wait. Todoroki lost it?"

"Still in his dorm," Sero replied softly. "I gave him space. Didn't force anything. No hugs. No lectures. Just... let him be."

The silence that followed was thick with unsaid thoughts, until Sero stood, brushing invisible lint from his sweatpants and shaking his arms out like he was preparing for battle.

"But now I think I need to check on him. Make sure he's okay."

Kirishima stood too, his tone serious for once. "That's manly as hell, Sero."

Sero paused, caught off guard. "You think so?"

"Yeah. You didn't kick Midoriya when he was down. You comforted him—even knowing what that might look like. That takes guts, man. You're a good dude."

Mina squealed, hands clapping together like a proud mom at a school play. "You're gonna be the kind of hero people run toward. And the kind of husband people cry at weddings for."

Sero flushed hard, yanking the hood of his sweatshirt up to hide the red crawling up his ears. "Mina—"

She stuck out her tongue. "Don't be shy, hubby material~!"

"A manly hubby material," Kirishima added with a smirk.

Groaning, Sero grabbed a throw pillow and chucked it at her head. "Bye, mean girls."

Their laughter followed him into the hallway as he stomped toward the elevator.

But once the doors slid shut, and he was alone, the weight settled back in.

When Todoroki had stormed off earlier, Sero hadn't chased after him. He knew better than to push. Instead, he'd tried to give the other boy space—sending a quiet text here and there, asking if he wanted to go out to dinner, offering a dumb meme, just... trying.

But each time, he was ignored.

At first, it stung. Of course it did. Sero wasn't immune to rejection. But then—he remembered how Todoroki had looked when he lashed out earlier that day. Not just angry.

Terrified.

When Sero had flinched and raised his hands—an old instinct from a life of sparring and dodging—he saw it:

The flicker of shame on Todoroki's face. The way his breath caught. How he'd gone pale.

He looked haunted.

And Sero remembered the stories—softly told in the dark, whispered under the blankets in his dorm when they were still just friends. Stories of fear. Of cold. Of raised voices and cracked walls and the way love had once meant pain.

Sero's chest ached.

'What if he thought he was becoming like his father?'

Now, as the elevator dinged and opened to the quiet hallway, that thought tugged at him harder than ever.

He passed a few classmates' dorms, lights dimmed behind their doors, the hum of night settling over the floor. But the closer he got to Todoroki's room, the more he felt it.

The temperature dropped.

His breath visibly curled in front of him. Frost laced the bottom edge of the hallway walls, delicate and sharp like glass flowers.

Sero shivered. "Oh... mi vida."

He stepped carefully to the door, then knocked, knuckles hesitant.

"Mi vida? Are you okay?"

...

Nothing.

"Roki?"

...

Nothing again. Not even the shuffle of feet or the rustle of blankets.

Sero pressed his ear to the door. It was so cold. Not just physically—but emotionally, too. The kind of cold that seeped from the inside out.

"I know you want your space," he said softly. "So I won't force it. I just—"

His voice cracked, and he leaned his forehead against the door.

"I'm here, okay? I'll be right here, whenever you're ready. Even if you don't want to talk. Even if you just want silence. I can do that too."

He slid down until he was sitting cross-legged, hoodie tucked tight around him.

And there, outside the door of the boy he loved, Sero waited.

The cold settled deeper, and snow started to gently fall against the dorm windows—but Sero didn't move.

Not until Todoroki opened the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour had passed. The door still hadn't opened.

Sero hadn't budged from his spot on the floor.

Kirishima had come and gone, leaving behind a care package—chips, a stack of well-loved manga, and a blanket Sero now had draped over his shoulders like a cape. He looked ridiculous, probably. Some of their classmates had shot him confused or judgmental glances as they walked past in the hallway, but he didn't care.

He wasn't here for them.

He was here for one person.

Sero flipped the page of the latest volume of Attack on Titan, balancing the book on his knee, and popped a chip into his mouth.

"Oh man, Eren is so sick for this chapter," he mumbled to himself, eyes still scanning the page. "Mi vida, you're gonna love this."

Silence.

Just the quiet hum of hallway lights above and the occasional sound of muffled voices from other rooms. But not a peep from behind Todoroki's door.

Sero adjusted the blanket and continued reading. Occasionally he hummed, a tune he didn't even realize he remembered—something he'd heard Todoroki play once on his phone during an idle afternoon, soft and melancholic.

Then—click.

Sero froze mid-crunch.

The door creaked open.

Sero's head snapped up.

Todoroki stood there in the dim light of the hallway, half-hidden behind the door frame like he wasn't sure he had permission to exist in the room. His two-toned hair was mussed and hanging low over his face, shadows curling beneath his eyes like bruises carved by sleepless nights.

He wore black sweatpants and—Sero's hoodie. The black oversized Spider-Man one he always left folded on his bed for comfort, not fashion. It dwarfed Todoroki's frame, but it wasn't the size that made Sero's chest tighten.

It was the red rims around Todoroki's eyes. The silent wreckage behind them.

"You... you stayed here?" Todoroki's voice cracked, barely audible. Like he didn't trust the words to reach him.

Sero stood slowly. The blanket fell from his shoulders, pooling silently at his feet.

"Of course I stayed," he said gently, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "I told you—I'll be here until you're ready. So... I'm here."

Todoroki stared at him. His bottom lip trembled slightly.

He took a step into the hallway—and then faltered, as if something inside him recoiled. As if love was too dangerous to walk toward.

"I—I don't want to hurt you," he whispered, voice raw.

The words struck harder than a punch.

Sero's breath caught. "Shoto..."

But Todoroki's hands trembled as he gripped the sleeves of the hoodie. So tightly now that his knuckles blanched. Like he was holding back a storm inside his own skin.

"I hurt you," he said again, barely more than a whisper. "With my fire. Just like he did."

Sero froze.

"I'm—I am him. I look like him. I lose control like him. I get angry like him. It's in me." His voice cracked on the last word, and suddenly he was pacing, shaking, the thoughts spinning out of him like wildfire.

"I don't even remember yelling. I just saw red. I was angry—no, I was furious. Midoriya told him. He told Endeavor about us. And all I could feel was heat. It flared so fast and I almost—"

His chest heaved. He gripped the sides of his head. "I almost burned you."

And there it was.

Not just guilt. Not shame.

Terror.

The kind that festered in old wounds and whispered that he was dangerous. Unlovable. Doomed to repeat the past.

"I don't deserve you," he rasped. "I don't deserve anyone. I push people away. That's all I ever do. Just like him. Just like my mother left. Just like Midoriya gave up on me. Just like..."

His voice fractured into silence.

"Just like you."

That broke Sero.

He stepped forward—but slowly, carefully, like he was approaching a wounded animal.

"Shoto."

Todoroki wouldn't meet his eyes. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself now, as if to contain the war within.

"I'm afraid of myself," he confessed, finally looking up. His eyes were glassy, full of all the broken things he'd tried to hide. "And I'm so tired of being afraid."

Without a word, Sero moved in and wrapped his arms around him.

Todoroki gasped—genuinely startled—but Sero held firm. Not to trap, not to force—but to anchor. His body was warm, steady, real. His breath was soft against Todoroki's neck.

"I would never leave you, Shoto," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "Never. I don't care how hot the flames get—I'll still be here."

Todoroki stood rigid. The weight of Sero's embrace pressed against the parts of him that had gone cold. Slowly, like ice melting, his arms lifted and clung to Sero's back. Then tighter. Tighter. As if holding onto the only thing keeping him from disappearing.

And then—

"I'm sorry," he choked.

Sero pulled back just enough to cradle his face between his palms.

"Don't apologize for feeling, mi vida," he said, brushing a thumb under Todoroki's eye to catch a tear. "Don't apologize for being human."

Todoroki's face twisted. His body shook with sobs he tried—and failed—to hold in. But Sero stayed, unwavering. He held him through every tremor, every broken breath, every quiet gasp for control.

He whispered in Spanish—not for understanding, but for comfort. For rhythm. For something to ground Todoroki's mind in the sound of love.

"Estoy aquí. Te tengo. Respira, mi vida... solo respira..."

(I'm here. I have you. Breathe, my life... just breathe...)

Time lost its meaning.

Eventually, the storm began to calm. Todoroki's breathing evened, his grip on Sero loosening, though he still leaned into him like he wasn't ready to face the world alone yet.

Sero pulled back again and cupped his face.

"Mi vida... we're going to be okay."

Todoroki blinked up at him. His eyes were red, cheeks damp, but something had shifted. The chaos had receded. The walls were still there—but there were cracks in them now. Openings. Possibilities.

"How do you know?" he whispered. "How can you be sure?"

Sero's thumb traced his cheekbone gently.

"Because it's you and me. You're not your father. You're not alone. We fight through it. Together." He smiled. "Nosotros somos uno."

Todoroki didn't know the grammar, didn't know the full phrase—but he knew what it meant.

You and I—we are one.

His eyes shimmered.

Without thinking, he threw his arms around Sero's neck again and held him like he didn't want to let go. Sero responded instantly, holding him just as tight. He pressed a kiss to Todoroki's temple.

"You're amazing, mi vida," he whispered. "So much stronger than you think."

A long silence passed.

Then, quietly—like he was admitting something delicate, easily bruised—

"Can we... go to your room?" Todoroki asked, voice barely more than a breath. "Just us?"

Sero didn't tease, didn't smile wide like he sometimes did. He just looked at Todoroki with this soft, warm gaze that felt like being wrapped in a blanket straight from the dryer.

"Of course we can," he murmured.

He reached out, fingers brushing gently against Todoroki's hand before he took it—slow and deliberate, like asking for permission without words. Their fingers laced together.

And this time, Todoroki didn't flinch from the warmth.

He held on.

Sero gave a small squeeze before gently leading him down the quiet hallway. The air around them wasn't tense—it was full, somehow, heavy with something unsaid but not unknown. Their hands brushed occasionally, fingertips shifting, adjusting, like they were still learning how to fit together, but wanting to.

When they reached Sero's door, Todoroki hesitated just a moment—long enough for Sero to notice—but then he stepped inside. Like a decision had been made.

Warmth met him instantly.

Not just the physical kind, though the heater hummed quietly in the background. But the emotional kind too. The scent of Sero's room wrapped around him: cedarwood, citrus shampoo, faint traces of laundry detergent and ink from his sketchbooks.

The curtains shifted softly in the breeze of a cracked window. A hoodie lay draped over the chair. Manga stacked neatly on the shelf. A small cactus on the sill, thriving despite how little light the room got.

Everything in here spoke of Sero.

It was lived-in, familiar. Safe.

Todoroki's shoulders, tense since morning, sagged. Just a bit. Just enough to notice.

Sero didn't ask questions or push. He just gently tugged him closer, guiding him toward the bed like Todoroki was something important. Not fragile—precious. Like something you didn't want to drop.

Todoroki didn't resist. He sat down, kicked off his shoes slowly, then curled into Sero's side with a kind of quiet desperation. His head tucked into the warm crook of Sero's neck and shoulder, his arms slipping around Sero's middle like instinct.

Sero responded immediately. He shifted, one arm curling around Todoroki's back, the other reaching to pull the blanket around them both. He moved with care, always with care, like he was afraid any sudden motion might undo this fragile peace.

Todoroki let out a long, slow breath—one that felt like it'd been trapped in his chest for days.

Sero held him close, and after a few heartbeats, he leaned over to grab the manga they'd been reading together. It was the kind of tradition that had started quietly: a chapter here, a night there, on rooftops or under dim lamps. It had become theirs.

He opened it carefully, balancing it in one hand so Todoroki could still see.

"Okay, mi vida," he said gently, lips brushing against Todoroki's temple. "This is where we left off. The hero's about to confess."

Todoroki didn't say anything.

But his fingers curled gently into the fabric of Sero's shirt. He was listening.

Present.

Sero started to read aloud. His voice low, calm, drifting into the quiet like soft rain. Every so often, he'd pause to make a joke about the dialogue or gripe about how unrealistic something was, and Todoroki would hum faintly—just the barest hint of amusement in his chest. Like it cost him nothing to smile here.

And when Sero glanced down, he caught it—that flicker of a grin on Todoroki's lips, tiny and barely there. But it was real. It was warm.

Minutes slipped by.

The pages turned.

Eventually, Sero noticed the shift in Todoroki's breathing. It grew slower, deeper.

He glanced down again.

Todoroki had fallen asleep.

His cheek now rested fully against Sero's side, one arm slinging over Sero's waist, the other was curled underneath him like he was holding on to something precious. Sero's hand instinctively rose, fingers brushing through the soft strands of dual-colored hair, pushing a few out of Todoroki's eyes with gentle reverence.

His heart squeezed.

There was so much trust in the way Todoroki slept against him. Not just physical closeness—but emotional safety. Like this was the only place he could truly let go.

Sero leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Goodnight, mi vida," he whispered.

And then—

"...Lo..."

Sero blinked.

He looked down.

"Did you just—?"

A pause.

"...Love you... Hanta..."

Sero's heart stuttered in his chest. He blinked again, wide-eyed, his body frozen with disbelief. His name, spoken like that—gently, dreamily, tucked inside an unconscious confession.

"Okay. That—no way—"

He looked again. Todoroki's face was calm. Peaceful. Dreaming. Still curled into his chest like he belonged there.

Then came another soft murmur:

"...No... love him..."

It hit him like a wave.

Holy shit.

He'd heard Todoroki sleep talk before. He guesses the younger do it whenever he's really stressed out or overwhelmed about something.

Nothing coherent. Once, the younger boy had mumbled something about soba and accidentally lit part of a pillow on fire in his sleep. But this wasn't a string of nonsense. This was clarity. This was his heart, laid bare in the middle of a dream.

Sero swallowed thickly, overwhelmed.

And just when he thought he couldn't take anymore—

"...Hanta... p-please don't leave... love you..."

Sero felt it all at once—his ribs aching to hold more love than they could carry, his arms tightening around Todoroki instinctively, his soul catching on the raw honesty of that voice.

"Lo siento... mi amor," he whispered, eyes burning, voice trembling.

He kissed Todoroki's forehead again, slower this time. Like a promise.

And Todoroki exhaled—this little, content sigh, like even his dreams had let go of something heavy.

Sero stayed like that. Holding him. Breathing with him. Letting himself feel all of it—every moment, every word, every ounce of trust he was being given. He didn't need fireworks or grand confessions or swooping gestures.

This was enough.

Todoroki, asleep in his arms.
Todoroki, whispering his love through dreams.
Todoroki, choosing him.

Sero brushed his thumb over the back of Todoroki's hand and smiled through the sting in his chest.

"I love you too, mi vida... with everything I am."

He didn't sleep for a while. Just stayed there, letting his fingers trace slow, gentle circles along Todoroki's back. Quietly marveling at how far they'd come.

And somewhere, as the night deepened and the room fell still, Sero closed his eyes with a heart full to the brim.

Because he knew—
Shoto Todoroki loved him.

And that was more than enough to last a lifetime.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki's POV:

Yesterday was not a good day for me.

It started small—just a flicker of tension I didn't understand—until it wasn't small anymore. I saw Hanta and Kaminari fighting. Not bickering. Not teasing. Fighting. I've never seen either of them like that before—voices sharp, expressions tight in ways that didn't match who they usually are.

Hanta says he's fine. He says things like that a lot. But I know the difference between fine and fine because I don't want to talk about it.

He was hurt. And not just because of whatever they argued about. He missed his friend.

I wished he would talk to Kaminari, patch things up before the silence between them grew into something heavier. But I also know better than to push. Hanta moves at his own pace when it comes to things that matter, and forcing him would only make the walls go up higher.

Still, the air felt... wrong. Tense enough to cut glass. And Hanta—when you really looked—looked hurt in a way most people wouldn't catch. His shoulders a little tighter. His smile slower to come. That brightness in his eyes dimmed at the edges.

But even that wasn't the worst part.

No—the worst part was when he showed up.

Endeavor.

No announcement, no warning. He just appeared at the edge of our training field like a storm cloud made of fire and judgment, arms crossed, his shadow stretching over the grass. He didn't say a word at first. Just stood there, still and heavy, like he was waiting for someone to fail so he could crush them for it.

And he was staring directly at Hanta.

I know that look. That cold, calculating glare that strips you down to something small in his mind. My jaw locked so tight it ached. My fingers twitched, heat threatening to crawl up my arm. Part of me wanted to scorch him right where he stood. Not because I thought it would make him back off—because I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the burn he's left in me.

But I held back. Barely.

And then I found out why he was there.

Midoriya told him.

Midoriya told him about me and Hanta dating.

When I heard that, the world narrowed to a single, burning point. Why couldn't he keep it to himself? Why did he think my father had any right to know something so... mine? I didn't want Endeavor to know. I never wanted him to know. Because I knew the moment he found out, he'd try to ruin it.

He ruins everything.

So I stayed away from everyone for the rest of the day. I didn't even look for Hanta. I just needed to keep moving, keep my mind busy, because if I stopped, the memories would rush in—flashes of my father's voice, his hands, his fire. Every one of them sharp enough to cut.

And then I saw him.

Hanta. Waiting by my door.

He said he'd been there for a while, just... waiting for me. And I can't explain it, but something shifted in my chest. I've never had someone do that for me before. Just be there. Without demands. Without conditions.

It overwhelmed me in a way I wasn't prepared for.

Hanta keeps saying he'll stay with me—that nothing my father does will scare him off. I want to believe him. God, I need to believe him. But there's this small, ugly voice in the back of my head whispering that I'm too much. Too cold. Too damaged. Too complicated. That he'll realize one day it's easier to leave.

And if he does... I won't just be lost.

I'll be broken.

Because I love him.

I didn't think I could love anyone like this. I thought I loved Midoriya when we were together—maybe I did—but with Hanta... it's different.

He asks before he hugs me, but somehow always knows when I need one anyway.
He smiles at me like I'm something beautiful instead of something fractured.
He knows when to give me space, and when to ignore the distance I think I need.
He's patient in ways I don't understand.

He knows my past. He's seen the cracks in me. And instead of pity or discomfort, he just holds me like I'm something worth holding.

He doesn't make me feel broken.

He makes me laugh.
He makes me smile without thinking about it.
He makes me feel safe in a way I didn't think was possible anymore.

And he makes me feel loved.

I haven't felt that in a long, long time.

We haven't been together long, but I know what this is. Every time he calls me handsome or pretty—or "hermoso" in that low, gentle voice—my chest feels like it's going to burst.

He drives me insane sometimes, with his procrastination and ridiculous jokes, but even those things... I've started to treasure them. Because they're him. Because they make me feel.

Because Hanta makes me feel human.

And I never want to lose that.
I never want to lose him.

I sighed, my breath fogging slightly in the early classroom chill. UA's heating system always took its time waking up, so the air still had that faint bite to it, the kind that clung to your fingers and made you curl them inside your sleeves. I sat at my desk, palms flat against the cool surface, letting my thoughts wander where they inevitably went these days—back to him.

Last night, after everything, Hanta didn't ask questions. He didn't try to prod me into talking or force me to explain myself. Instead, he waited for me by my door, took me to his room and laid there with me. Flipping through manga like it was the most natural thing in the world. He'd occasionally show me a panel he thought was funny, grin at me when I made the faintest sound of amusement, then go back to reading.

He knew silence was what I needed.

Hanta always knows.

At some point, I must have drifted off, because when I woke, he was still there. His scent was the first thing I noticed—warm cedarwood, that faint, bright edge of citrus, and something soft that was just... him. My cheek had been pressed against his shoulder, and I realized he must've lit one of his ridiculous candles again, the ones he always claimed "set the vibe." I didn't argue with him about it anymore.

His arms were around me, loose but steady. Not trapping me, not caging me—just... there. A quiet weight. An anchor.

He kept his promise.

He always keeps his promises.

It felt... good. Like stepping in from a snowstorm and being handed a mug of something warm. Like slipping into a bed that's been warmed by sunlight. It felt like home, though I've never really had a home before—not like that. And for a moment, I let myself believe that maybe... maybe I could.

I glanced up from my desk now, blinking against the morning light streaming through the windows—and there he was. A few rows ahead, leaning back in his seat, grinning like an idiot as he joked with Kirishima. His laugh carried easily over the low hum of chatter, light and bright, as if last night had been nothing out of the ordinary. As if he hadn't held me like I was something rare and breakable. As if he hadn't called me mi vida in that soft, reverent way, like the words themselves were a promise.

Then—he looked back.

Just a glance over his shoulder, but it was enough to make my breath hitch. A single second. A smile. A slow, deliberate wink.

Something inside me loosened before I even realized it had been wound so tight—like a knot finally giving after years of strain. The tension I'd been holding in my chest quietly unraveled, replaced by a warmth that crept all the way to my fingertips.

Then—thunk.

A small sound. Soft, but enough to snap the thread of my thoughts.

"Whoa, Todoroki, what's that?"

I blinked, dragged back into the present. Mineta's round, gleaming eyes peeked over the edge of my desk like a nosy raccoon. His stubby fingers were already reaching for something on the floor.

"Huh?"

He bent down and scooped it up before I could stop him.

And my heart stopped.

In his hands were my plush keychains—the little sleepy gray-and-white cat with its half-lidded, perpetually unimpressed gaze, and the sea turtle with the bright red ribbon tied into a crooked bow around its shell.

Both of them gifts.
Both of them from Hanta.
From my birthday.

I must have forgotten to zip my bag properly this morning.

Stupid.

"Whoa, that's one ugly cat," Mineta said with a squint. "And is that a sea turtle wearing—what even is that, a ribbon? What are you, six?"

I didn't think. My hand shot out on instinct, snatching them from him so fast he yelped and stumbled back into the aisle.

"Ugh! Hey, what the hell, man?!"

I ignored him, my fingers curling tight around the small plush shapes until my knuckles went white. The familiar textures pressed against my palm—soft fabric, faintly frayed threads on the cat's ear, the silky ribbon on the turtle—little anchors tethering me to something safe. My chest ached with a strange, protective heat.

"Geez," Mineta muttered, rubbing his arm. "Didn't know you were into toys."

"...Toys?" I echoed, more baffled than offended.

He snorted. "Wow, who knew the so-called heartthrob collects stuffed toys. Girls would be disappointed."

Heartthrob?

What does that even—

Movement caught my eye.

Hanta.

His smile was gone.
His posture shifted—shoulders set, back straight, strides slow but precise. There was a dark glint in his eyes, sharp and unwavering, the kind I'd only seen during sparring matches... or that one time someone made Mina cry during the Sports Festival.

He didn't say a word as he crossed the classroom. No theatrics. Just deliberate steps. Mineta didn't even notice until he was standing right in front of him.

"I mean, seriously," Mineta kept going, oblivious, "this is who the girls fall for—"

Hanta grabbed him by the collar in one clean motion and lifted him with one arm.

Gasps erupted around the room. Chairs scraped the floor.

"Sero?!" Momo's voice rose in alarm.

"Sero, what on earth is the meaning of this?!" Iida's arms started windmilling like a malfunctioning robot.

"Ugh! Let me go!" Mineta squirmed, kicking his short legs. "Are you insane?!"

Hanta's voice was calm. Too calm. Like frost forming over steel.

"If you touch mi amor's gifts again," his grip tightened just enough to make Mineta's squeak audible, "I'll tape your head to your own ass so tight you'll be sneezing your own thoughts."

Silence.

Even Bakugou, halfway through opening a bag of chips, froze mid-crunch. "The fuck?"

Heat crawled up my neck.

...Mi amor?

Before I could process the rush of warmth flooding my face, Hanta tsked and casually tossed Mineta across the room. The smaller boy landed in a heap near Shoji's desk with an undignified groan.

Hanta turned toward me, the storm in his expression melting into that lopsided grin I'd grown far too fond of. He stopped beside my desk, leaning down so close I could see the faint flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

"Did he mess with your gifts, mi vida?"

I shook my head slowly, my voice caught somewhere between my chest and my throat.

"Good." His smile deepened, softening at the edges.

Before I could find words, Aizawa trudged into the room, wrapped in his scarf and drinking straight from a steaming coffee pot.

"Alright, demons," he muttered, sounding like he'd fought death itself to get out of bed, "take your seats."

Hanta groaned dramatically but obeyed. Before he left, he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face and pressed a feather-light kiss to my cheek.

"See you after class, mi belleza."

(My beauty)

My lips curved upward before I even realized it. I held the keychains in both hands, cradling them close like they were made of glass.

I love him.

I love Hanta Sero.

As he strolled back to his seat, he casually high-fived Sato, like he hadn't just publicly threatened to tape a classmate into a pretzel.

"...Wow," someone whispered nearby.

I turned. Momo and Tokoyami were staring at me—Momo with barely restrained amusement, Tokoyami with his usual, unreadable calm.

"...What?" I asked.

Momo smirked. "Someone is very protective."

Tokoyami nodded once. "You have a... very interesting boyfriend."

I glanced back at Hanta, who was now calmly pulling out a pencil and his textbook, as if nothing had happened. The corners of my mouth lifted in a soft laugh.

"'Interesting' doesn't even begin to describe him."

Because Hanta wasn't just interesting.

He was kind.
Charming.
Reckless in the exact ways that made me feel safe.

He made me feel warm in the middle of a storm.
He made me feel seen. Known. Loved.

And I want to be with him for a very, very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV:

Sero stood in front of his locker in the boys' changing room, halfway through pulling on his hero uniform. The usual noise of the room played like a background track—Kirishima and Bakugou were in yet another heated debate over a move Bakugou dubbed "Boom Right Jab 2.0" (which honestly just sounded like his usual explosions), and Iida was sternly reciting a dress code speech at Tokoyami and Mineta, who clearly couldn't care less.

But Sero wasn't hearing any of it. Not really.

His fingers hovered near the zipper of his uniform, unmoving, as his gaze drifted across the room. It landed on Denki Kaminari—alone, unusually quiet, and practically fading into the corner by the far lockers.

Denki was slipping on his jacket in silence. His movements were slow, clumsy. No bounce in his step. No off-key humming. No dumb little jokes about being the "light of the team."

And that's what hit Sero the hardest.

Even when Denki wasn't talking, he was always there—a spark in human form. There was always movement, always chaos clinging to him like static. But now?

Now it looked like all the electricity had bled out.

Sero's chest tightened as he watched him. It had been days since their combat training incident. Days since things got too heated—too personal—and words were thrown like weapons. Words that shouldn't have been.

He hadn't realized how much they'd landed until Denki stopped lighting up rooms the same way.

Sero shut his locker with a soft click and exhaled slowly through his nose. He'd put this off too long. He couldn't keep pretending it was fine just because he hadn't been the one left looking shattered after.

Time to fix this.

He moved across the room, weaving past classmates with calm, steady steps. The chatter dimmed in his ears. The closer he got to Denki, the more he could see it—how his friend's shoulders were slightly hunched, how his jaw kept clenching like he was biting down words, how his fingers trembled faintly as they tugged at his zipper.

Sero swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

When Denki finally looked up and noticed him, he jolted ever so slightly. His posture stiffened on instinct.

Then came the voice—soft, unsure, strained.

"...Hey," Sero began, voice low but steady. "Can we... talk?"

Denki blinked. The surprise was clear in his golden eyes, but he nodded slowly. "Uh... sure," he said, almost too casual—but the stiffness in his shoulders gave him away.

Sero gestured toward the door with a small tilt of his head, and Denki—hesitant, silent—followed without a word.

A few students watched, curious. There was something quiet but tense about the way they moved, like a storm cloud trying to quietly slip out of the room. But no one dared speak.

Still, as they passed the row of benches near the exit, Todoroki—seated on the edge, lacing his support boots with the quiet diligence he always carried—glanced up. His eyes met Sero's for a brief moment. His face didn't change, but his gaze softened, just barely.

A knowing look.

A quiet offer of support, unspoken but loud enough to hear.

Sero felt the tension in his shoulders release, just a fraction. He returned the look with a small nod of his own.

He understands, Sero thought.

And somehow, that made this just a little easier to face.

Outside the locker room, the hallway was quieter. The morning air that drifted in from the cracked windows was crisp, biting even—but the kind of cold that didn't sting, just reminded you it was real.

The light filtering in through the old glass was pale and grey-blue, washing over them in silvery streaks. It didn't feel warm. It felt distant. Everything did.

They stood apart at first. Awkwardly. A beat passed, then another.

Denki rubbed at his arm like he was trying to scrub away the nerves, his fingers twitching with anxious static. Sero, equally restless, raked a hand through his dark hair and sighed. His eyes flicked to the ceiling like maybe the right words would be up there waiting.

"So, uh... shit," Sero muttered, his voice catching on itself. "That's not how I wanted to start. Hang on, let me just—"

He trailed off, squeezing the back of his neck like that might help pull the sentence out of his spine.

Denki snorted, weakly. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Never thought you'd have trouble talking."

Sero cracked a crooked smile, something familiar in it. "Never thought you could go a whole week without saying anything."

It wasn't much—but they both laughed. It was soft, broken around the edges, but real. It tugged something deep in both of them. A thread still intact beneath the fraying.

Then the laughter faded, and the silence that replaced it was heavier. Realer.

Sero drew in a breath.

"Look," he started, voice steadier now, "I'll admit—I messed up. I talked about mi vida... a lot. More than I should have. And before we even started dating—hell, even when we were just figuring it out—I wasn't thinking how that might sound. I didn't think how that might make you feel. Like you weren't part of that picture."

Denki's gaze dropped to the floor, but his shoulders stiffened.

"I didn't take a moment to realize how overwhelming that could be. I didn't check in. I just kept... going. And for that, I'm sorry. I pushed you away without even meaning to."

Denki blinked. His mouth opened slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected that. Not the honesty. Not the weight of it.

But he nodded, throat thick.

"I'm sorry too," he whispered. "I was being a dick."

Sero lifted an eyebrow. "A major one."

Denki let out a wet snort, despite himself. "Okay, fine, yeah. I was a major dick. Like, world-class, Hall of Fame level. Pass Bakugou's level. And I knew it. I just... I didn't know how to stop it."

His voice cracked, trembled.

"I felt like everything was falling apart at once. And instead of talking to you, I just blew up. On you. On Kirishima. On Mina. I let everything fester, and then I made it your fault. I just... I needed someone to blame."

He swallowed hard, trying to steady his voice. "And I picked you. The one person I never should have."

His breath hitched, and he turned away slightly, ashamed. "I said shit I didn't even mean. Hurt people who care about me. And now I feel like I'm on the outside looking in, like the damage is already done and there's no walking it back."

He wiped his eyes quickly, angered by the tears he couldn't hold back. "I don't expect everything to go back to how it was. I don't deserve that. But I just... I needed you to know. I'm sorry, Sero. Really."

There was silence again. Not awkward—just full.

Then:

Thump.

Denki yelped. "OW—!"

Sero had flicked him in the forehead, hard enough to sting.

"That's for pissing me off," Sero said.

Another thump.

"Sero—!"

"That's for kicking me in the jaw during training."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"That's for ditching us. That's for hanging out with Monoma, of all people. That's for making Kiri cry like a kicked puppy. That's for making Mina scream into her pillow for a full night. And that—" he flicked him again, this time harder than the last, "—is for talking shit about mi vida."

Denki grumbled, rubbing his forehead. "Jesus, I'm gonna have bruises."

"You should," Sero muttered. Then his tone softened, his eyes dimming with something gentler. He thumped Denki once more—light, affectionate.

"That one's for not telling me sooner."

Denki blinked. His lip quivered. He stared at Sero, helpless, overwhelmed.

"I'm an idiot."

"You are," Sero said, with the fondness only someone who knew him could manage. "But so am I. We all are. We're sixteen, man. That's what this is. We fuck up. Then we figure out how not to."

Denki's eyes glassed over again, but he nodded. Slowly. Tired. Fragile.

"But," Sero added, and Denki tensed again, bracing.

"I haven't forgiven you completely. Not yet."

Denki flinched.

"And you're right," Sero continued. "Things probably won't go back to what they were. Not exactly. That version of us—what we had before—it's gone. But..."

He stepped closer. Put a hand on Denki's shoulder.

"...That doesn't mean we can't build something new. Something better."

Denki's throat collapsed around a sob.

His whole body trembled, fists clenching and unclenching like he didn't know whether to fight or flee.

"We just have to talk more," Sero whispered, voice soft like paper in the wind. "Stop holding things in. Work through it. Together."

And that was it. That was all it took.

The dam shattered.

Denki lunged forward without warning—raw, desperate, like something inside him had finally cracked open. He slammed into Sero's chest with the weight of guilt, grief, and months of unsaid words, burying his face like he was terrified Sero would vanish if he let go.

Sero stumbled back, startled by the force, his back hitting the lockers with a soft clang. But his arms didn't hesitate. They wrapped around Denki immediately—firm, warm, grounding. No teasing, no jokes. Just a quiet, solid presence.

Denki's muffled voice broke against his hero uniform. "I'm sorry, man... I'm so sorry..."

Sero rested his chin on top of the blond's head, holding him tighter. "I know. Me too."

This wasn't full forgiveness. Not yet.

But it was a start.

A step forward.

And Sero was willing to take it.

He was ready to fight for it.

"Yo, Sero, you forgot your helme—" a voice called down the hallway.

It stopped dead.

Kirishima stood frozen at the far end of the corridor, Sero's helmet dangling from his fingers, his red eyes wide and unblinking. The sight hit him like a gut punch.

Denki.

Clinging to Sero.

Crying.

Breathing.

Kirishima's throat worked around something unsaid. He took one step, like he wasn't sure if it was real.

"D-Denki?" he croaked.

Denki and Sero looked up.

Denki's face was blotchy and red, tear tracks shining down his cheeks. But his eyes—his eyes were clearer than they'd been in months. Like someone had lit the spark behind them again.

Sero smiled through the weight in his chest and waved Kirishima closer with one arm still looped around Denki.

"Get over here, baby.

Kirishima's jaw trembled.

He didn't wait.

He sprinted.

He crashed into them with all the force of a charging rhino, arms wrapping tight around both of them, tears immediately pooling in his eyes.

"I MISSED THIS!" he cried.

"I MISSED YOU GUYS!" Denki wailed.

"I MISSED NOT BEING CRUSHED IN GROUP HUGS!" Sero groaned, squished beneath two crying teens.

The locker room door opened behind them, and Class 1-A spilled into the hallway.

"What's going on over there?" Sato blinked.

"Are they... hugging?" Midoriya tilted his head.

Todoroki was the last one out, his gaze found Sero immediately—his Sero—in the middle of the hallway, buried under their friends, arms still wrapped around Denki, eyes crinkled with laughter and maybe a little relief.

Something warm bloomed in Todoroki's chest.

And for the first time that week, maybe longer—

He smiled.

A small, rare, entirely real smile.

Then—

"WHAT. THE. HELL. IS. THIS!?"

Mina's shriek echoed down the corridor like a bomb went off.

Everyone flinched.

Kirishima popped his head up from the cuddle pile like a guilty puppy. "Mina! Denki's back!"

No hesitation.

No questions.

Just fury, relief, and pure chaotic love.

"DENKI KAMINARI, YOU ABSOLUTE SHIT—!"

She sprinted toward them, combat boots thundering.

And launched.

The pile exploded with noise and limbs as Mina body-slammed them like a missile, causing them all to fall on the floor but Mina didn't care. Tears pooled in her eyes and a death grip on Denki's hoodie.

"OH MY GOD," Sero wheezed from the bottom.

"DUDE," Kirishima grunted, a muffled oof escaping.

"I'M NOT THAT HEAVY!" Mina snapped. Then she grabbed Denki's cheeks and squeezed. "YOU—ARE—IN—SO—MUCH—TROUBLE!"

"I KNOW!" Denki sobbed.

"YOU—MADE—ME—CRY—YOU—ELECTRIC—IDIOT!"

"Am I gonna die?" Denki whimpered.

"Yes," Mina growled. "But after I hug you until your ribs pop."

Off to the side, Denki voice cracked again. "I missed you guys so much it hurts. Like, emotionally but also physically now."

Laughter bubbled up from the group. It was messy and wet and maybe a little painful, but it was real. Raw.

Honest.

Sero laid back on the tile floor, flattened under bodies and feelings and at least one aggressively tearful Mina.

He didn't care about the bruises or the ache in his ribs or the fact that he was going to be late to drills.

He didn't care about the noise or the crowd that was definitely watching them now or the embarrassment that should've come with it.

Because today, he got to talk to his friend.

He got Denki back.

And for now?

That was enough.

That was a win.

Notes:

Also how are we feeling about Midoriya~

Chapter 25: Prep Talk

Third Person POV:

"YOU TWO WHAT!?"

Mina's voice cracked the air like a thunderclap, echoing off the courtyard walls with the intensity of a war horn. Somewhere above them, a startled pigeon burst into flight, wings flapping madly.

Denki flinched like he'd been slapped. "Goddamn, Mina! Do you want the entire city to know?!"

But Mina Ashido wasn't hearing reason. She was on a mission. Her golden eyes widened, practically shimmering with unfiltered drama as she clutched her chest like a 1950s soap opera queen. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait—run that back. You and Shinso... hooked up-hooked up?"

Denki's face turned crimson, ears burning. "It wasn't like—okay, technically yes, but it was the heat of the moment and—ugh!"

Mina gasped like her soul had just left her body. She staggered backward, dramatically placing a hand on Kirishima's shoulder for support. "I knew you two had vibes! I knew it! But I thought it was just casual flirtation or trauma-bonding or something!"

Sero shook his head like a disappointed parent, clutching an imaginary set of pearls. "Wow, Denks. You ghost us, hanged out with Monoma, and now this? Ditching the squad for Mr. Sleepy-Eyes? Shame. Shame shame shame."

Denki groaned, burying his face in his hands. "It's too soon for ditching jokes, man!"

Sero gave him a toothy grin. "Not in my book, estúpido," he said, sticking out his tongue and giving a playful wink.

Kirishima crossed his arms and nodded with mock solemnity. "Gotta admit, man. Shinso? That's a serious upgrade in taste. Quiet, brooding, sarcastic? That's a step up from flirting with vending machines."

"Dude, that was one time," Denki grumbled.

Mina huffed, still processing. "This is wild. I mean, you two barely even talked before."

Denki's head snapped up. "We did! We've been talking for like, three months! He sends me stupid cat memes and reminds me to drink water and—he's actually really sweet, okay?!"

Mina narrowed her eyes, but the edge was softening. "Still..."

"Aw, she's just being protective," Kirishima chuckled, nudging her. "We missed you, man. But I am gonna punch you at some point for disappearing."

Denki sighed. "Yeah, I've got a long line of people who want to punch me. I'm considering handing out raffle tickets—"

"STOP TALKING TO ME!"

All heads turned toward the school entrance. Katsuki Bakugou stood there, seething, arms stiff at his sides, and behind him, looking utterly unfazed, was Shoto Todoroki, calmly holding out his phone like he was showing Bakugou the weather forecast.

"See?" Todoroki said blandly, "It's just like you."

Bakugou growled, his teeth grinding audibly. "I will fucking end you if you don't stop talking to me."

Todoroki blinked once. "I already sent it to you on LINE."

The group watching the scene erupted into quiet laughter as they approached.

Kirishima winced, "What is it now..."

Sero wandered up to Todoroki, still calmly standing there with his phone out. Without saying a word, Sero leaned down and pressed a kiss to Todoroki's cheek. Instantly, Todoroki's eyes lit up, his posture straightening as if someone had just powered him on.

"Oh. Hello, Hanta."

"Hola, mi vida," Sero purred, slipping his arm around Todoroki's waist. "Te ves extra divina hoy~"

( You looks extra divine today)

Todoroki's lips twitched. He mentally repeated the phrase—he was getting better at Spanish—and finally smiled. "I look like this every day."

"And yet somehow," Sero whispered dramatically, brushing a strand of hair behind Todoroki's ear, "every day you get more beautiful."

Todoroki's expression went blank for a second, then softly pink. "...That's not physically possible."

" It is for you~"

Todoroki smiled as Kirishima's eyes sparkled. "Whoa. Now that's a manly relationship."

Bakugou's voice sliced through the air like a blade. "Shitty hair?! Why the FUCK is he here?!"

Everyone turned. Bakugou's finger was pointed accusingly at Denki.

Denki rolled his eyes. "Nice to see you too, Bakubro."

Mina immediately wrapped her arm around Denki like a human shield. "Oh calm down, Bakubabe! Denki's walking home with us. Group outing, remember?"

Bakugou's glare didn't falter. Kirishima rubbed his boyfriend's back soothingly. "It's fine, babe. We're good. It's all good now."

"Tch. Whatever," Bakugou muttered, still side-eyeing Denki like he was a cockroach with a GED.

Mina clapped. "Alright, gang! Let's walk home. Movie night awaits!"

"Oh! Can we watch those Superman movies again?" Kirishima asked, bouncing on his feet like a kid in a candy shop.

"Nope! My turn to pick," Sero announced proudly, wrapping his other arm tighter around Todoroki. "And I'm choosing comedies tonight."

"Booooo," Mina and Kirishima groaned.

Kirishima folded his arms. "Man, those comedies you pick are never even funny."

"Yeah, they're just cringe-funny," Mina added.

Sero gasped, scandalized. "Excuse me! Mi vida laughed!"

Todoroki blinked. "They were boring."

Denki snorted, and Mina and Kirishima cackled as Sero's jaw dropped.

"You said they were interesting!"

"I also said caffeine gum was interesting," Todoroki replied. "It doesn't mean I enjoyed it."

The group broke into laughter again—everyone except Bakugou, who grumbled, "Losers."

" HA! Even your boyfriend said they sucked dude," Kirishima laughed.

" Oh yeah Shotobaby for the win," Mina cheered.

Sero whined dramatically, dragging his feet a little. "Wow. You guys suck."

Everyone laughed—Denki cackling, Mina nudging Kirishima in the ribs, and Kirishima grinning like he always did when things felt easy.

But Todoroki, walking just a little behind the others, turned to Sero. He caught the tiny flicker of disappointment in his boyfriend's expression—the kind Sero always masked with humor.

Without thinking, Todoroki leaned up and kissed his cheek. "But you're not boring, Hanta."

Sero's heart stuttered.

The words hit him like a breeze on still water—gentle, but stirring something deep. That nickname again. Only Todoroki ever used his first name so tenderly, like it was something sacred.

And then—there it was again. The memory.

Last night. Todoroki asleep on him, the soft hum of the air conditioner blending with the quiet flipping of manga pages. Sero had been reading, eyes sore from too much print, when he heard it—Todoroki's soft voice.

"...Love you... Hanta..."

It had been barely a whisper. Mumbled, maybe. A sleep-dream murmur. But to Sero, it was crystal clear. He hadn't told anyone—not even Todoroki himself. He didn't want to pressure him or make it weird. Maybe Todoroki didn't even know he'd said it.

But it echoed now. Like a second heartbeat. Steady. Warm.

"Hanta?" Todoroki's voice brought him back, soft with concern.

Sero blinked. The world snapped into focus. The others were walking ahead, unaware.

And suddenly—without overthinking it, without running from it—he leaned in and kissed Todoroki on the lips.

It wasn't a fast kiss. It wasn't rushed or nervous or awkward. It was real.

Todoroki's eyes went wide—just for a second. Then they fluttered shut, and he leaned into it. His hand gently touched Sero's elbow, grounding him.

They stopped walking.

The others didn't notice at first. Then Denki turned, then the rest.

"...Oh wow," Denki blinked, clearly stunned.

"OH MY GOD," Mina shrieked, throwing her hands to her cheeks in full rom-com panic mode.

"Sero?!" Kirishima whistled, eyebrows raised, thoroughly impressed.

"FUCKING SICK—HEY! THIS IS A PUBLIC PLACE, YOU DAMN MORONS!" Bakugou barked from the back, his voice slicing through the moment like a grenade.

The two boys broke apart, red-faced but smiling softly. Todoroki's bangs hid half his face, but his ears were practically glowing.

"Sh-Shall we go, m-mi vida?" Sero stuttered, voice cracking a little as he tried to recover.

"Mhm," Todoroki nodded, still dazed, and very clearly not regretting a thing.

As they caught up to the group, Kirishima gave a low whistle. "Didn't think you had it in you, Todoroki."

"I-I'm sorry," Todoroki mumbled, staring at the pavement like it held the secrets of the universe.

"Aww, he's shy!" Mina squealed again, hugging herself with joy.

"He should be shy," Bakugou growled. "That shit was gross."

Kirishima raised a smug eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Then I guess we're all forgetting that time me and Katsuki made out in the classroom."

Dead silence.

Bakugou froze like someone had hit a pause button. His expression slowly morphed into pure horror.

"What..." Denki whispered.

Kirishima beamed innocently. "We asked Aizawa to let us use the room to 'study,' and then, well... we didn't study much."

"EIJIRO! WHAT THE FUCK?!" Bakugou exploded, eyes wide with betrayal.

"Oh my god!" Sero pointed dramatically. "Goody two-shoes Bakugou made out in a classroom! This is historic!"

"Please tell me it wasn't my desk," Mina gagged.

Kirishima shrugged. "We used the desk... then the board... then the window ledge—"

"SHUT. THE. HELL. UP!!" Bakugou's face was so red he looked like he was going to actually combust.

"Oh, Aizawa's gonna kill you when he finds out," Denki laughed nervously.

"It was months ago," Kirishima said casually.

Three jaws dropped.

"AND YOU'RE JUST TELLING US THIS NOW!?" Mina, Sero, and Denki shouted at once.

"You never asked," Kirishima shrugged again, as if that explained everything.

Without warning, Bakugou launched a small explosion at him. A loud pop and a blast of smoke filled the area.

When it cleared, Bakugou was stomping ahead while the others stayed behind and watched Kirishima stood unharmed in full Hardening mode, smoke curling off his charred uniform.

"Aw man," he sighed, brushing ash off his shoulders. "I just got this dry cleaned."

"Whoa, dude, you really pissed him off," Sero said, eyes wide. "He hasn't used an explosion on you since like... before break."

"Oh no, he does that all the time," Kirishima said cheerfully.

Todoroki frowned. "Are you alright, Kirishima?"

"Yeah! Kat was just embarrassed. I'll probably get yelled at later, but it was totally worth it," Kirishima grinned like a kid who'd just won a dare.

Sero laughed and offered a high five. "You're a real one."

Kirishima returned it with a grin, the tension between them already fading into warmth.

Then Mina glanced over and noticed Denki frowning at his phone. "Denki? What's wrong?"

Denki blinked, startled. "O-Oh, it's nothing—"

"Denki," Sero said firmly. "We literally just talked about not bottling stuff up."

Denki sighed. "Shinso said Monoma's spreading rumors about me."

Everyone stopped walking again. Kirishima's smile dropped like a stone.

"What kind of rumors?" Mina asked sharply.

"Just dumb stuff. It's fine. Plus, Shinso said he got payback."

"How?" Sero tilted his head.

Right then, Denki's phone buzzed. He looked down, opened the message—and his eyes widened.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Mina asked, leaning in.

Denki held up the phone. "Who wants to see Shinso use his quirk to make Monoma act like a duck for ten minutes?"

"ME!" Mina and Sero shouted.

"ME!!" Kirishima added.

"I... kind of want to see that," Todoroki said, nodding gravely like it was a very serious matter.

Denki burst out laughing. "I missed you guys."

Mina immediately pulled him into a hug. "We missed you too!"

Todoroki blinked, then said evenly, "I'm still upset at you... but Hanta missed you."

Denki grinned, eyes a little shiny. "Right. Play the video!"

As the group clustered around the screen, watching Monoma waddle around campus quacking and flapping like a confused duck, the warm golden sunset bathed their laughter in light. The air shimmered with fading heat, the smell of grass, and the feeling of something whole.

For a bunch of kids training to save the world, they had somehow saved each other first.

And that was more than enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mi vida, please!"

"No."

Sero's eyes widened, lips parted like Todoroki had just told him Santa Claus was a hoax and quirks were fake. "Oh, come on, it's just one trip!"

"No," Todoroki repeated, not even looking up from the manga resting comfortably in his lap. His voice was as flat and immovable as a glacier. "You know the rules."

Sero inhaled dramatically, as if the weight of injustice had physically crushed him. He spun on his heel and flopped to the dorm room floor like a Victorian maiden who just found out her betrothed was marrying someone else. Arms spread wide, legs splayed, face toward the ceiling.

"You're so cruel!" he cried, back arching like he was giving a death soliloquy. "How can someone so cute be so heartless?"

Todoroki, unbothered, turned a page with infuriating calm. "Hanta, you're going to get in trouble."

Sero twisted around on the floor, resting his cheek on the carpet so he could look at him with the saddest brown eyes he could muster. "But I'm hungry~! And downtown they have authentic Hispanic dishes! I saw a flyer! A flyer, mi vida! In Japanese! For Hispanic food made by actual Hispanic chefs! That's a goddamn miracle!"

"I'm pretty sure your mom makes better food," Todoroki said, standing up and walking across the room with practiced, noble indifference.

"I can't go home," Sero rolled over dramatically again, now crawling toward Todoroki like he was crawling through the desert. "If my parents see me sneaking around, I'll be grounded until the next decade. They're still mad about the... club thing."

"You mean when you and the others got fake ids, sneaked into the club and missed curfew and had gotten detention for two months?"

Sero paused, blinking. "Okay, yeah, but like... it was iconic."

"And Aizawa will expel you if you get caught off campus again," Todoroki said, standing over him now, arms crossed. "You just got your weekend privileges back."

Sero groaned and sprawled out like roadkill again. "But mi vidaaaa~! I'll be back in less than an hour. In. Out. Like a ninja. A Hispanic food ninja. No one will even notice I'm gone!"

"Hanta."

"There's nothing to eat here! Because fuckass Mineta forgot to do the groceries like we agreed! We were supposed to take turns, and this week was his turn!"

Todoroki stared him down, calm as ever. "Hanta."

"But—"

"Hanta."

"I—"

"Hanta."

Sero finally huffed and pushed himself up onto the desk chair, pouting as he spun himself in a slow circle like a sulking child on a merry-go-round. "Ugh, fine! You're sounding like Iida right now, you know that? All stern and judgey and—"

That earned him a narrow, disapproving glare that could've frozen fire. Sero shut up immediately.

Todoroki took a deep breath, the kind you take before unleashing a cold front. "Fine. Go. Get in trouble. Break the rules. Get expelled. See if I care."

He turned and marched back to the bed like a soldier retreating from a failed negotiation. He threw himself down—stoically, of course—and picked up his manga again, flipping the pages with more force than necessary.

Sero blinked.

That wasn't the reaction he expected.

He stood slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, the tension in the room suddenly sinking in like cold water. "Mi vida..." he tried again, voice softening.

He walked over and climbed onto the bed beside him, crawling like a scolded puppy. "Mi vida~ Don't ignore me."

Todoroki didn't say anything. He didn't look at him either.

"Oh, come on," Sero said, gently nudging his side with his knee. "You like me, remember?"

Still nothing.

"I can see you smiling," he teased, leaning over to poke at his ribs. "You're not fooling anyone."

Todoroki rolled his eyes and sighed through his nose. "I'm ignoring you."

"You're talking to me."

"I'm trying to ignore you."

"And yet~" Sero wiggled closer, practically draping himself over Todoroki's side, "you haven't kicked me out. That's basically an invitation."

"That can be arranged," Todoroki deadpanned.

Sero raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, truce." He gently patted Todoroki's back and whispered, "Por favor, date la vuelta por mí, vida mía."

( Please turn around for me, my life)

Todoroki sighed—loudly this time—and finally set the manga down beside him. He turned to face Sero, arms crossing tightly over his chest.

"Hi," Sero grinned sheepishly.

Todoroki narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"

"To talk."

A beat passed.

"You make me so—" Todoroki began, then stopped. He looked into Sero's eyes, saw the genuine softness there, and his expression faltered. "Nevermind."

"No, no, mi vida." Sero reached forward and took his hand gently. "We promised we'd talk. No bottling stuff up. Come on. Be honest."

Todoroki hesitated.

Then, slowly, his expression shifted.

"You're being selfish," he said at last, voice low and steady. "You're impulsive. You joke around like it's harmless, but you don't always think about what might happen. You make it look easy, like none of this scares you. But it scares me."

Sero blinked.

Todoroki took a breath, voice growing softer but more intense. "If you got caught sneaking off again... if Aizawa expelled you, if you lost your chance to be a pro hero... if I lost you—" His voice cracked slightly. "I wouldn't forgive you. Not only because I'd be angry. Because I'd never stop wondering why you gave up everything we've worked for."

Sero sat still, the weight of Todoroki's words pressing down hard on his chest.

"...Damn," he finally muttered, half a laugh slipping through. "I said be honest, but... wow. That was like a sniper shot straight to the soul."

Todoroki's brows furrowed, a flicker of worry returning. "Hanta, I didn't mean to—"

"No. No, you're right," Sero interrupted gently, reaching out and taking Todoroki's hand again, his thumb tracing slow circles over cold knuckles. "I needed that. Even if it hurts. Especially because it hurts."

Todoroki blinked, surprised by the softness in Sero's voice. The absence of his usual levity made it feel... heavier. Realer.

"I just..." Sero trailed off, taking a moment to find his words. "I don't always know how to show it. How much I care. About this place. About my hero studies. About you. About... everything we've been building. But I do. More than anything."

Silence stretched.

Not heavy.

Just full.

Todoroki's next words came out quieter than anything that had come before. Like a prayer whispered into the wind.

"I want you to be the hero I know you are," he said. "The one who makes people laugh when they're about to fall apart. The one who throws himself into danger because he knows he can make a difference. The one who—" He paused, throat tight, "—the one I want to build a future with."

There was no teasing in that. No humor. Just truth.

It hit Sero harder than any villain's quirk ever could.

Todoroki looked vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed. Not fragile—but unguarded. Eyes shining faintly with unshed emotion, jaw tense from holding in too much for too long.

Sero stared at him like he was seeing something sacred.

He didn't speak.

He moved.

He leaned in, slow and deliberate, and kissed Todoroki with a tenderness that made the air in the room shift. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't fiery. It was warm and certain, like pressing your forehead to a sunlit window.

Todoroki didn't pull away.

He melted.

When they finally parted, breath mingling in the space between them, Todoroki blinked slowly—his cheeks pink, his eyes wide and dazed. "...What was that for?"

"For being you," Sero murmured, brushing his thumb gently across Todoroki's knuckles.

There was a pause.

A quiet moment that stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. Then, without warning, Todoroki launched forward, arms wrapping tight around him, locking their bodies together like puzzle pieces. The sudden force knocked them both back onto the bed with a light thump.

"Gah—warn me next time!" Sero laughed as he caught him, arms wrapping instinctively around Todoroki's waist.

"That was for being you," Todoroki mumbled, face buried against Sero's chest.

The older boy grinned and tilted his chin, brushing a soft kiss to Todoroki's hairline. "Okay, not gonna lie, I kinda like this version of you. Affectionate, cuddly, and not actively icing me."

Todoroki scoffed against his chest. "Don't push your luck."

"I would never," Sero replied, fully pushing his luck.

They settled into the mattress, wrapped around each other. Their kisses lingered longer, the kind where time slowed down and the room seemed to disappear. Legs shifted, arms wandered—fingers tracing shoulders, thumbs brushing along spines.

At some point, Todoroki wiggles on top of him, finding a comfortable position as his thighs sit nicely over the older's torso.

Sero's back presses into the deep into mattress, hands clinging to Todoroki's waist as he tries to pull their bodies closer. This time, the kiss is more aggressive, almost hungry, and Todoroki is the one to initiate it, pushing their bodies as far as they can go as he tugs desperately on his hair.

Sero can feel himself doing the same, gliding his hands up Todoroki's back and entangling his fingers through his hair.

And then—

bzzzzz. bzzzzz.

A phone buzzed.

Both of them froze, breathless and flushed. Todoroki hovered just above Sero, his cheeks flushed and lips darkened, his eyes glassy with the lingering haze of something unspoken. His chest rose and fell with each controlled breath.

"Should we... answer that?" he asked softly, though he didn't move.

Sero groaned, dragging his hands down Todoroki's back before flopping dramatically onto the pillow. "Nooo. It can wait. Whoever it is can text me. Or scream."

He leaned back in with clear intent to reclaim the mood, but Todoroki placed a firm hand against his chest. Not pushing him away—just anchoring him. His fingers rested lightly over Sero's collarbone, tracing an invisible pattern.

"What if it's important?"

"Then they'll scream or something. Preferably with a sense of timing."

Todoroki blinked at him—deadpan, unimpressed—but before he could reply, the buzzing went off again. And again.

Sero let out an exaggerated groan and threw his arm over his eyes. "Tienes que estar bromeando. That better not be Denki. He's been so clingy ever since I told him we're cool again. He tried to third-wheel us twice today. Twice."

(You have to be kidding me)

Todoroki got off of him so he could lean over to the nightstand and glanced at the screen. "Oh. It's mine."

Sero peeled his arm back from his face. "Damn. The universe really just won't let us have nice things."

Todoroki sat back with a sigh and unlocked the phone. His expression changed quickly—brows lifting in surprise, posture straightening.

"It's my sister."

Immediately, Sero's teasing faded. Concern flickered in his expression as he pushed up on one elbow. "Should I go? I can wait outside, or—"

"No," Todoroki murmured, brushing his hair back as he tapped to answer. "It's probably one of her check-in calls. She does this sometimes when she can't sleep."

Sero gave a small nod and eased back onto the bed, but this time he curled around Todoroki from behind. His arms looped snugly around his waist, long legs tangling beneath the blankets. He rested his chin on Todoroki's shoulder, warm breath brushing the side of his neck.

The call connected.

"Hello?" Todoroki said, voice calm and composed despite the red still high in his cheeks.

"Shoto! Sorry for calling this late—is now a good time to chat for a second?"

Todoroki blinked at his sister's voice, eyes flicking to the screen before softening slightly. "No, it's not a bad time," he replied with a gentle sigh—just as Sero chuckled against his neck and gave it a slow, affectionate nuzzle. The ticklish warmth made his ears tint pink.

He didn't push Sero away.

He just leaned a little closer.

"Oh, good!" Fuyumi chirped brightly. "Well, I heard a little rumor... that you have a boyfriend!"

Todoroki sat bolt upright like he'd been electrocuted, yanking himself out of Sero's arms.

"What?"

Sero blinked, stunned at the sudden movement. "Um?"

"You didn't tell me!" Fuyumi gasped, faux-scandalized. "And I heard you told Dad first?! That's kind of surprising, not gonna lie. But so great!"

"No, I didn't tell him," Todoroki groaned, already rubbing his temples. "A classmate did. And I was going to tell you, Fuyumi..."

"Relax, I'm not mad!" she assured with a warm laugh. "Honestly, congratulations. Natsuo says he's happy for you too—though of course, he also gave me a five-minute big brother lecture about guarding your heart and setting boundaries."

Todoroki exhaled heavily, while behind him, Sero was casually scrolling through the open manga volume they'd left sprawled between them earlier. Todoroki glanced back, seeing the familiar illustration of the two protagonists—childhood friends turned battle-worn heroes—standing back to back in a storm.

"Anyway!" Fuyumi continued cheerily. "That's not the only reason I called. I wanted to see if you'd be free for a family dinner this weekend. You could bring your boyfriend too! We'd love to meet him!"

Todoroki's eyes flicked toward Sero, who was humming under his breath as he read, tapping the corner of a page with absent interest. "I don't know, Fuyumi..."

"Oh, please, Shoto," she groaned. "I really want to meet the guy who stole my baby brother's heart."

There was a long pause. Todoroki swallowed hard.

"Fuyumi... I don't want him meeting Endeavor."

Sero's eyes flicked up at that. His brows drew together as he set the manga aside, giving Todoroki his full attention. Todoroki didn't meet his gaze.

On the line, Fuyumi sighed. "I get it. I do. But Shoto, the rest of us—me, Natsuo, even Mom—we want to be part of your life. And now that there's someone special in it, we want to meet him too. You're allowed to have that."

Todoroki's jaw clenched. His fingers curled slightly against the edge of the phone. The memories surged, uninvited. Cold hallways. Scalded skin. The silence between dinner and fists slamming on training mats. Fire that didn't just burn—it punished.

And yet—Sero.

Sero, who smiled with his whole face and never once looked at Todoroki like he was broken. Who laughed at his dry humor and never minded when Todoroki reached for his hand with warm fingers when it gets cold in the dorm. Who once showed up outside his dorm window with climbing tape and dango, just because Todoroki had looked tired during class.

"I just..." He trailed off, his voice barely a whisper.

There was a pause.

"You still have a family, Shoto," Fuyumi said, gentle but firm. "We're not perfect. We never were. But we're trying. We're learning. I want to see you happy—I want to see you free."

Todoroki looked down at the manga again, open to a scene where the two friends were resting after a hard battle—one with his head tipped back laughing, the other quietly watching, his cheeks just faintly flushed. Love wasn't the central plot, but it threaded in quietly, like the warmth of a tea kettle in a cold house.

He sighed.

"And look," Fuyumi added quickly, "don't worry about Dad. He promised he'd behave. He was—well—polite when you brought your friends around last time."

"Fuyumi," Todoroki warned, "He glared at him."

"You were there?" she asked, surprised.

"I watched it happen," Todoroki muttered.

From the phone, the sound of footsteps—then Fuyumi's voice off-speaker. "Dad? Did you glare at Shoto's boyfriend?"

"He had tape coming out of his elbows. I told him I was impressed with his quirk!"

"Impressed my ass," Todoroki muttered.

" Shoto language!" Fuyumi lectured.

Todoroki rolled his eyes.

He could hear her return to the phone fully. "Look, Dad's not going to ruin this. I promise. And... Mom's really happy for you."

Todoroki stiffened.

"...You told Mom?"

"Of course I did! She was so proud, Shoto. She said you sounded lighter lately—like your voice has more warmth. And she says someday she wants to meet the boy who makes you smile like that. Don't think I didn't notice how you were grinning on your birthday, by the way."

Todoroki blinked, caught off guard. He didn't even remember smiling.

But slowly, as if on cue, his eyes moved to Sero—still watching him with that patient, open expression. His dark hair was a tousled mess from where he'd been lounging, and his eyes glinted with quiet affection. His smile started small—always did. Just a twitch of the lips, then a slow bloom, as if joy had to warm its way up through him like sunlight thawing snow.

It was that smile that Todoroki always searched for in a crowd.

And just for a second, he pictured it—Sero sitting beside him at the long family table. His mother carefully pouring tea, Fuyumi folding napkins with surgical precision, Natsuo lobbing sarcastic remarks across the table about "Mr. Duct Tape," and Sero laughing, unfazed, taking it all in stride.

It didn't feel real.

But it also didn't feel impossible.

Not with him.

"Shoto?" Fuyumi's voice broke in gently. "Will you think about it? Please?"

Todoroki closed his eyes.

"...I'll... think about it."

There was a squeal of joy. "Yes! Okay! Just let me know. I love you, baby brother."

He hesitated, but his voice was soft when he replied. "...Love you too. Goodnight."

He let the phone fall lightly against his chest, closing his eyes.

"Mi vida?" Sero's voice was low, laced with concern. "You okay?"

Todoroki didn't answer—not with words. He turned, slow and deliberate, and got into back to the bed to crawled into Sero's lap, pressing into him like gravity had finally made a decision. His arms looped around Sero's shoulders, and his legs tucked tightly around his waist like he didn't want even air to come between them. He buried his face in Sero's neck.

Sero didn't hesitate. His hands came up to cradle Todoroki's back, firm and steady. One drifted to cup the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair with practiced ease. He pressed a kiss to his temple. Then another, just beneath the eye. Then one more—gentle and still—at the crown of his head.

"It's okay, mi vida," he whispered. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight. I'm here. I've got you."

Todoroki didn't speak.

He didn't need to.

He just stayed there, clinging to the warmth that never burned, never froze—just held him, safe.

And for now... that was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Eijiro."

The redhead's pencil paused mid-stroke, hovering above a half-scribbled equation. Kirishima let out a dramatic groan and dropped his head back like the sheer weight of the math was too much for his mortal body.

"Kat, this is too hard," he whined, letting his arms go limp over the desk as if he'd just been mortally wounded by calculus.

Bakugou didn't look up. "That's because you're a d—" He caught himself just in time, biting off the insult like it tasted bitter. His eyes flicked sideways and landed on his boyfriend.

Kirishima was pouting.

Big, pleading eyes. Bottom lip slightly jutted out. Eyebrows scrunched up in a way that somehow screamed both "helpless" and "kiss me."

It was criminal.

Bakugou's jaw clenched. He pivoted back to the notebook, voice tighter. "...Because you're not using the right damn formula."

"Oh..." Kirishima blinked at the page. "Oh. Oh!" His hand moved quickly, erasing a messy string of numbers and replacing them with clean, efficient equations. His face lit up like a lamp. "Oh!"

Bakugou facepalmed so hard the sound echoed off the walls.

Kirishima giggled and leaned over to press a kiss to the crown of his boyfriend's spiky blonde hair. "You're the best," he whispered, voice smug and sweet.

"Tch." Bakugou's smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself, letting the warmth of the kiss roll over him like a low electric hum. "Damn right I am."

Kirishima leaned back in his chair with a long, exaggerated sigh, stretching both arms behind his head like a cat in the sun. "You know... I think this calls for a break~"

Bakugou snorted and shoved a hand in his face. "As if. You were just running your mouth to those extras about our business."

"Hey, I was trying to make Todoroki feel better," Kirishima said, still grinning as he batted Bakugou's hand away.

Bakugou's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And why the hell should we care if that icy bastard feels better?"

Kirishima's smile faltered.

"Kat..." he sighed softly.

Bakugou clicked his tongue, frustration flaring in his chest. He stood abruptly, the chair squeaking as it scraped the floor, and flopped onto his bed with a heavy grunt. "You're too damn nice sometimes."

Kirishima hesitated, then followed him, crawling onto the mattress with the familiarity of someone who belonged there. "You're too damn grumpy sometimes," he countered, poking Bakugou in the side.

Bakugou let out a huff that was half-grumble, half-laugh.

They stared at the ceiling for a moment, breathing in sync.

"Man," Kirishima sighed at last, voice softer now, thoughtful. "It's good to have Denki back. The Fantastic Four is finally whole again. Doesn't that feel good, Kat?"

Bakugou's reply was lower. Rougher. "He bailed."

Kirishima blinked. "Huh?"

"He bailed on you," Bakugou repeated, eyes hard. "Ditched you when you needed him. And now, what? A couple of tears and an apology and everything's fine again?"

Kirishima propped himself up on one elbow, brow furrowing. "Katsuki..."

"No." Bakugou sat up, voice sharper. "I watched it. He yelled at you in front of the class. Made you feel like shit. And you just—what? You're cool again? Like it didn't matter?"

Silence fell like snow.

Then Kirishima leaned forward and kissed him. Not needy. Not rushed. Just quiet and certain.

Bakugou didn't move. Not because he didn't want to—but because the meaning behind that kiss... it was grounding. Reassuring. A slow and careful answer to an anger born from care.

When Kirishima pulled back, he rested his forehead against Bakugou's. "I know you're just worried. I am too. But we talked it out. We're working on it. The others helped... and I've got you." His voice dropped into something quieter, more intimate. "That's enough for me."

Bakugou blinked slowly, then reached up to thread his fingers through Kirishima's hair. For a moment, they just breathed, noses brushing.

"...You know what?" he murmured. "Maybe we do need that break."

Kirishima smirked. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Their faces inched closer again, breaths mingling, eyes slipping shut—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Bakugou?! Kirishima?!"

They both froze.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?" Bakugou roared, snapping his head back and slamming a fist into the mattress.

Kirishima groaned and rolled off the bed, dragging his feet toward the door. "If that's Mineta again, I swear to god I'm putting a sock in his mouth..."

He yanked the door open.

Sero stood on the other side—wide-eyed, panting lightly, like he'd sprinted across the whole dorm building. His black hair was slightly disheveled, the front of his shirt rumpled like he'd tugged it on mid-run. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his temples.

"Sero?" Kirishima blinked, confused.

Sero looked between him and the room behind him, clearly having caught the tail end of something private. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh. Sorry. But—can I talk to you guys? It's... kind of important."

Bakugou sat up from the bed with a scowl. "This better be good."

Kirishima stepped aside and nodded. "Come in."

Sero hesitated a second longer, then stepped in—and the quiet shift in his eyes told them this wasn't just some casual drop-in.

Something was wrong.

Kirishima shut the door behind him. "Wait—how'd you even know I was here with Kats?"

Sero sank down onto the floor like his legs had finally given out. "Well, you weren't in your room, and I know you weren't with Tetsutetsu—it's not gym bro day. And honestly... I just knew you'd be here." He gave a weak shrug. "Instinct."

Bakugou scoffed and threw a pillow at him from the bed. "You stalkin' us now, TapeFace?"

Sero ignored that. "Okay. So. Last night, mi vida's sister called—Fuyumi? She sounded really nice on the phone—and she asked mi vida if I'd come to this family dinner thing on Sunday."

Bakugou immediately sat up. "Oh. Shit."

Kirishima's eyes lit up. "Wait, seriously? That's huge, man!"

"Yeah..." Sero gave a tight smile. "At first, I said yes. I mean, he looked so... sad and I just—ugh. I couldn't say no, y'know?"

"And now you're here," Bakugou muttered, "because you realized what a terrible fucking idea that was."

Sero winced. "Exactly."

Kirishima sat on the edge of the bed, eyes bouncing between them. "Wait, you had dinner with the Todoroki family?" he asked Bakugou.

Bakugou gave him a flat look. "Yeah. Once. Never again. It was like being stuck in a soap opera directed by Satan.

Sero swallowed hard. "Okay. So like—I came here because you're the only two people I know who've dealt with meeting parents over dinner. Kiri, you met Bakubros parents. Bakugou, you've actually had dinner with the Todoroki family. I just... need advice. How the hell do I not die at that dinner table?"

Kirishima frowned sympathetically. "Of course we'll help, man."

Bakugou groaned into his hands. "This is gonna be painful."

Sero looked at him with wide, desperate eyes. "Please, Bakugou. I know you hate this crap, but I need some serious advice. I don't wanna mess this up. He means a lot to me."

Bakugou looked at him for a long beat. Then sighed. "Fine. Rule number one: that family is messed up."

Sero nodded quickly.

"Rule two: You being you? Not ideal. So no dumbass jokes or puns."

"My jokes aren't dumb..." Sero muttered.

Bakugou pointed at him. "Don't. Push. It."

"Rule three," he continued. "They've got trauma like it's on sale. And they will bring it up mid-dinner like it's totally normal. Be ready to sit through awkward silences and depressing shit while eating soba."

Sero visibly deflated. "Okay... noted."

"And most importantly," Bakugou growled. "Old man Firestarter? He hates you."

Sero blinked. "He... he does?"

"At that hellhole agency, the second he found out you were dating his son, he started making passive-aggressive comments about your elbows. Called you 'the adhesive kid.' I thought it was funny. But yeah—he's coming for you."

Sero dropped flat on the floor with a groan, face buried in the rug. "I'm gonna die."

Kirishima laughed. "Not you're not—you're good with people. You're kind. Respectful. Be yourself cool self dude."

"Even that's a gamble," Bakugou muttered.

"Also... let Todoroki take the lead at first," Kirishima added. "He'll set the tone. Just follow his vibe."

Sero groaned louder.

"Except remember," Bakugou added, "IcyHot also hates his dad. So it's basically a cold war with awkward chopsticks."

"Fantastic," Sero mumbled into the rug. "So glad I asked."

Kirishima crouched down and patted his back. "Dude, we got you. We'll help you prep. Practice polite small talk. Teach you how to survive the Endeavor stare."

"There's no surviving that glare," Bakugou muttered, arms crossed behind his head.

Sero looked up, pale and anxious. "Dinner's on Sunday. Three days. Am I screwed?"

Kirishima offered his hand and pulled him up. "You've got us. That means you've got a fighting chance."

Bakugou just snorted and leaned back again. "Better not come cryin' to me when Endeavor melts your favorite sneakers."

Sero stood up slowly, rolling his shoulders, still pale but... steadier. He thought about Todoroki's eyes—how they softened when they looked at him, like he was something precious. How he'd quietly squeezed Sero's hand when he said yes to the dinner.

Sero drew a deep breath.

"...Alright," he said, voice firmer now. "Let's do this."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay, first off, make sure you compliment the sister—but don't make it weird, dude," Kirishima said, voice full of fake wisdom as he adjusted his red hoodie like he was suddenly an expert on sibling diplomacy.

Sero raised a brow, legs stretched out as he lounged on the beanbag, though his jittering foot betrayed his nerves. "I know, dumbass. I'm the one who gave you advice when you were freaking out about the Bakugous, remember? You're welcome, by the way. You owe me sushi."

Kirishima pouted. "That doesn't make you Cupid, bro."

Sero sighed, dragging his hands down his face. "Sorry, mi amigo. I'm just... stressed. So stressed. Like, stomach-flipping, cold-sweating, forgot-my-own-name kind of stressed."

"You're fine, man," Kirishima said with his signature sunshine grin. "I was the same way when I met Kat's mom. My knees were shaking. My soul left my body. It was like standing trial for a crime I almost committed."

"Yeah, well, they like you," Bakugou muttered from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed and scowl permanent. "That's different."

His tone was gruff, but his cheeks were pink. Mina noticed first and started giggling behind her hand, nudging Sero with her elbow. He grinned through the panic

"Actually," Denki chimed in from where he was spinning lazily in Mina's desk chair, "why am I even here again?"

"Because, DunceFace," Bakugou barked from the corner where he leaned with crossed arms and permanent scowl, "if you wanna be useful, you're gonna sit there and wait for instructions. And don't touch anything."

Denki sighed dramatically and flopped over the backrest. "Being useful sucks."

"Now," Mina said, flipping her hair and striking a pose, "I'm Todoroki's sister, right?"

"Yeah. Just... like... don't go full Mina," Sero said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You're dramatic enough to outshine his dad, and that's not a compliment."

Bakugou groaned. "Be yourself. But, like, toned down you."

Mina grinned and gave a thumbs-up. "Gotcha! Casual family vibes. I'm on it."

Bakugou turned to the room like a drill sergeant addressing a squad of hopeless rookies. "Alright. Raccoon Eyes's the sister, DunceFace is IcyHot 2.0, TapeFace is, unfortunately, himself, and Kirishima's the older brother. And I swear, if anyone goes off script, I will personally detonate."

"Hold up," Denki raised a finger. "Why doesn't Kirishima get a nickname?"

Bakugou's eyes sharpened like a blade being unsheathed. "Because he didn't bail on his friends, disappear like a damn ghost, and then come back acting like nothing happened."

The air turned cold. Even the wall clock seemed to skip a beat.

Denki shrank into the chair, visibly wincing. "...Ouch. That was surgical."

Mina reached over and patted his arm gently. "It's okay, Pikachu. You're doing your best."

"Can we not have a group therapy session right now?" Sero groaned, rubbing his temples. "I'm having a preemptive identity crisis and I haven't even met mi vida's family yet."

"Katsuki," Kirishima offered gently, giving him a look, "maybe let's focus on helping Sero, yeah?"

Bakugou scoffed. "Whatever. Fine. Listen, TapeFace, that family? Not normal. Their idea of bonding is passive-aggressive tea time and trauma-laced insults."

Sero blinked slowly. "...Like Christmas with my cousins."

"So what you're gonna do," Bakugou continued, holding up a finger like this was gospel, "is simple: don't. fucking. talk."

"Wait—what?" Sero recoiled. "I thought I was supposed to make a good impression!"

"Yeah, and the best impression is keeping your damn mouth shut before someone accidentally gets reminded of their daddy issues over rice crackers," Bakugou snapped.

Mina winced. "Yikes."

"Oh, and don't talk to the older brother," Bakugou added, pacing now like he was prepping for battle. "He will bring up some deep-rooted trauma to make a dig at the Fire Bastard, and then everyone's gonna be staring at the floor in silence, pretending the tea isn't lukewarm and full of tension."

"Bro, I'm sweating already," Sero muttered, wiping his palms on his jeans. "Ay dios mío..."

( Oh my God)

Bakugou's head snapped around. "No Spanish either!"

"What?! Why?!"

"No Spanish! The old man already doesn't like you. You speak another language and he's gonna assume you're insulting his family in code or something."

"That's insane," Sero muttered.

"That's Todoroki family," Bakugou replied flatly.

"Esto apesta," Sero groaned, rubbing his eyes.

(This sucks)

Bakugou pointed like a missile locking onto its target. "OI. What did I just say?!"

"I'm screwed," Sero muttered, looking to the ceiling like maybe divine help would descend.

"Relax, bro!" Kirishima said, clapping him on the back. "You'll be fine. We're all here to help you, we want you to make a good impression."

"Yeah," Mina chirped. "It'll be great! I've already got my tragic-but-sparkly sister persona planned. I cry when I'm nervous, so it'll be realistic."

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Denki admitted cheerfully.

Bakugou glared at Sero with fire in his eyes. "You. Will sit. You will smile. You will nod like a polite little puppy. And you will pretend you don't have a single original thought in your thick skull."

"...I don't think I can do that."

"You'll learn," Bakugou snarled.

"Fantastic," Sero groaned, flopping sideways. "I'm going to die surrounded by emotionally unstable people pretending to be other emotionally unstable people."

Bakugou cracked his knuckles and gave a wolfish grin. "Welcome to the Todoroki family."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And then what if Hanta doesn't like the food?" Todoroki blurted, hands clenching in his lap. "What if he tries to pretend he does just to be polite? What if my sister says something that makes him uncomfortable? Or my brother? Natsuo always acts like he doesn't care about appearances, but what if he brings up something too real? Too heavy?"

His foot bounced under the table.

"It's bad enough my father will be there... and he's going to say something—something cold, or embarrassing, or just wrong—and Hanta won't know how to respond, and he'll be uncomfortable the entire time. He'll just sit there trying to smile, and then maybe... maybe afterward, he won't even look me in the eye."

Momo sighed quietly, across from her, Tokoyami leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand, his expression unreadable under his feathered fringe.

"I think you may be overthinking this," Tokoyami offered, voice calm but not unkind.

Todoroki shook his head immediately. "No. You don't get it. What if Hanta sees the cracks? What if he looks around that dinner table—at them, at me—and he finally realizes it's too much? What if he gets up and leaves? What if I see him stand up and walk out, and he never speaks to me again, because I brought him into the wreckage I call my life?"

"Todoroki, calm down."

Momo's voice was patient, soft but firm—like someone talking down a startled animal or coaxing a genius out of a mental spiral. She looked up from the novel in her lap, the cover folding gently closed with a soft thud.

He didn't calm down.

"Maybe I should cancel it," Todoroki said, barely above a whisper.

His fingers were fidgeting—tugging lightly at the corner of his notebook with precision that betrayed how tightly wound he was. The tension in his shoulders was subtle but unmistakable. The way his jaw clenched whenever he exhaled. The way his right foot kept tapping against the floor with nervous rhythm.

"Todoroki—" Momo began, but he wasn't finished.

"Maybe I can say we'll reschedule, but then just... never do it."

Momo exchanged a glance with Tokoyami from across the study lounge table. The raven boy didn't speak, but his brows lifted slightly in quiet concern. It was rare for Todoroki to speak so directly about what he was feeling—especially when those feelings sat so close to fear.

"Todoroki," Momo said gently, "what are you afraid will happen?"

"I don't want Hanta to feel like he doesn't belong," he admitted, voice strained. "Not just at dinner. Not just around my family. But... with me. I don't want him to think I'm what he has to 'tolerate' if he wants to be in my life."

His gaze flicked down to his pencil, rolling it between his fingers like a lifeline.

He paused. Then, quieter:

"I don't want my father to ruin this."

The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was thick. Dense with understanding, with history, with all the things they didn't need to say out loud.

Momo and Tokoyami looked at each other before they nodded. They looked ahead at the frowning Todoroki.

Tokoyami leaned forward, folding his arms across his chest, tone careful but sincere. "Maybe we should practice what you're going to say?"

Todoroki blinked, confused. "Say... to who?"

"To your family," Momo elaborated. "Think of it like a simulation. A test run. We rehearse the dinner—give you a chance to figure out how to navigate it before you're in the fire."

"Metaphorically," Tokoyami added.

Todoroki tilted his head, considering. "...A test. I see."

"Exactly," Momo said, sitting up straighter. "Alright. I'll play your father, and Tokoyami is Sero."

"Why must I be Sero?" Tokoyami asked, almost offended.

"Because I'm not pretending to be Todoroki's boyfriend," Momo replied immediately, shooting him a knowing look. "It's purely logical."

Tokoyami sighed, eyes distant. "I cannot match his charm or elasticity. This role is beneath me."

Momo arched an eyebrow. "It's not Broadway, Tokoyami."

"I would be more convincing as a piece of atmospheric melancholy," he muttered.

"You are," Momo replied.

"Fair."

Todoroki's brows furrowed. "Yaoyorozu, I don't want to pretend you're my father."

There was a pause.

"...Because I don't want to hurt your feelings."

Momo blinked in surprise, then smiled gently, touched. "That's incredibly kind of you, Shoto. That means more than you know. Okay—then I'll be your sister. That alright?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes. That's okay."

She straightened and changed her posture immediately, folding her hands with an airy sort of poise. "Now imagine I ask, 'So, how did you two meet?'"

Todoroki blinked. "But... we all met in class. You were there."

Tokoyami let out a groan and dropped his head into his hands. "We're pretending, Todoroki."

"...Oh." He blinked again. "We're doing that now?"

"Yes," Tokoyami said without looking up.

"Oh."

Momo chuckled softly, but kept going. "Okay. Let's try again. 'So, Shoto, do you and Hanta have any shared hobbies?'"

Todoroki straightened slightly, trying his best to respond with seriousness. "We read manga together. Watch anime sometimes. And... we like to kiss each other."

Dead silence.

Tokoyami blinked. "I... beg your pardon?"

"What?" Todoroki asked, confused.

Momo's eyes flew wide, her entire face flushing red.

"...Todoroki," she finally said, clearing her throat, "you cannot say that in front of your family!"

"Say what? We read manga?"

"No!" Tokoyami said sharply. "The kissing! You don't list kissing as a shared hobby!"

Todoroki looked genuinely puzzled. "But... we do it often. It's one of our most frequent activities."

Momo pressed her palm to her forehead. "There are unspoken rules, Shoto. That's something you leave between you two, not offer during dinner while eating your meal."

"...I see."

They watched as he wrote down no kissing mention in the corner of his notes.

Momo tried again, voice gentler this time. "What part of the dinner is making you most nervous? Let's focus on that."

Todoroki hesitated, glancing at the page he'd been scribbling on, then down at his wrist. He twisted the orange-and-white iridescent beaded bracelet around his arm— given to him by Hanta during their Christmas exchange. It was slightly uneven but warm.

"I'm afraid he'll feel out of place," he murmured. "Afraid he'll sit there, surrounded by everything I hate, and try to smile through it. Afraid he'll see all the things I've tried so hard to cover up... and then decide I'm not worth the trouble."

The room fell quiet again.

"What if I'm a burden?" Todoroki said, voice barely above a whisper. "Too harsh? Too... scarred?"

Momo's fingers curled tighter around her skirt. Tokoyami's eyes softened behind his dark fringe of hair.

Todoroki didn't stop.

"What if I'm too much? Too broken. Too cold when I forget how to be warm. What if he sees everything—really sees—and decides it's not enough?"

Momo leaned forward, her voice warm with the edge of emotion. "Shoto... Sero wouldn't do that to you."

Tokoyami nodded solemnly. "I've watched the way he looks at you. He sees light in you, even when you don't. That doesn't disappear because of a bad dinner."

Todoroki exhaled, and his gaze dropped once more to the bracelet. His fingers brushed over it like he was remembering something that made him feel real.

"I just...I don't want to lose him," he murmured.

There was another long silence. But this time, it didn't feel cold.

"I... I love him," he whispered.

Both Momo and Tokoyami went still at the confession, surprised not only by the words, but by the fact that he had finally said them aloud. And not to them. To himself.

But neither of them commented. Neither of them needed to.

They were simply there.

And Todoroki didn't seem to realize he'd said it at all. He was still tracing the bracelet. Still thinking of the boy who had wrapped it around his wrist and smiled at him like he was sunlight.

He'd fought so long to allow himself to feel anything again.

He didn't want to lose what he'd found.

"You won't," Momo said softly, her voice unshaken. "Not if you keep holding on."

Tokoyami gave a firm nod. "Do not let the darkness from your past bury the joy you've found. Let it breathe."

Todoroki's eyes met theirs. The air around them shifted.

He didn't smile right away. But the tension in his shoulders loosened. His hand, still resting over the bracelet, stilled.

"...Thank you," he said, sincerely. "For everything. I'm sorry for venting like this."

"Don't apologize," Momo said immediately, shaking her head. "We're your friends, Todoroki."

Tokoyami leaned forward, folding his hands together. "True friends walk through the shadows with you. You're never a burden."

There was a pause. The kind that felt full instead of empty.

Todoroki looked at both of them—really looked. He'd always known they cared. But now... now he felt it.

He echoed softly, "'Don't let the darkness bury the joy.'"

His voice trembled on the edge of something new. Then, a small smile appeared on his lips. Barely there. But real.

It warmed the whole room.

Momo's eyes brightened as she caught it, her hand lifting to her chest with a soft gasp. Tokoyami's eyes, shadowed though they often were, crinkled just enough to show a rare fondness.

"Now," Momo said, taking a breath and gently resetting the tone, "since we've covered conversation prep, we have to pick out your outfit."

"Something black," Tokoyami offered sagely. "And more black."

"No, no," Momo said, springing to her feet. "You need something that says 'I'm in love with a cool guy and I'm emotionally available now!' Maybe a little color. Warm tones."

"...We are in the same school, yes?" Tokoyami asked, baffled.

Todoroki just watched the two of them begin to bicker over fashion choices, their voices bouncing lightly off the quiet walls of the lounge. The comfort in their rhythm, the safety in their friendship—it wrapped around him like a soft blanket.

And he smiled again.

This time, it reached his eyes.

Momo turned back and caught it. She placed a hand to her heart. "You should smile more, Shoto."

Tokoyami nodded. "It suits you."

Todoroki's fingers brushed the bracelet again. "That's what Hanta says, too."

Momo clapped her hands, grinning. "Then let's go pick something out and help you win dinner."

Todoroki stood. "Okay. Thank you, Momo."

She beamed. "You're welcome."

He turned to Tokoyami. "And thank you, Tokoyami."

Tokoyami offered a solemn bow of his head, as if receiving an oath. "May your confession be swift and well-received."

Momo rolled her eyes. "Okay, Mr. Tragedy."

"I am the knight of dusk," Tokoyami intoned.

Todoroki blinked, then let out a quiet laugh.

And together, they left the lounge—books and papers forgotten for now, a quiet kind of hope trailing behind them like sunlight through cracks.

For the first time in a long, long while...

Todoroki believed everything might actually turn out okay.

Chapter 26: Churro

Third Person POV:

"Are you serious?"

"Oh damn, dude, that's rough."

"Hey, at least you already know who's gonna kick your ass."

Sero groaned as Class 1-A gathered in Ground Beta, all clad in their hero suits, eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

The late afternoon sun caught the gleam of their gear, casting long shadows on the sprawling field. The usual urban maze had been swapped out for this wide-open expanse dotted with patches of dense foliage, jagged rocks, and low hills — a perfect battleground designed to test every skill, every tactic.

Aizawa stood at the far end, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded in his signature expression of tired exasperation. He gave a barely perceptible roll of his eyes and pulled his scarf up tighter against the cool breeze.

"Dramatic much?" he muttered, voice low but sharp.

Today's training wasn't just another partner drill or quick spar.

No, this was something different.

Team versus team, no holds barred, with two full rounds, shifting alliances, and an emphasis on adapting strategy on the fly. The last person standing would earn the win for their entire team — a high-stakes showdown that pushed everyone's limits.

And the universe, as if it had a personal grudge against one tape-shooting hero, had arranged a special punishment.

Hanta Sero was going head-to-head with—

Shoto Todoroki.

Yes, that Todoroki.

His calm, collected, undeniably powerful boyfriend.

The pro-hero-in-training whose very presence could chill a room or ignite it on a whim.

The boyfriend who, right now, was definitely not pleased with him.

Sero sucked in a slow breath and glanced across the field. Todoroki stood perfectly still, arms crossed, his face unreadable. To anyone else, it looked like serenity incarnate. But Sero had seen that look before — that stillness masking a volcano of simmering frustration, ice-cold rage hidden beneath a glacier's surface.

It was terrifying.

"Dude... you okay?" Denki's voice broke through, half-concerned, half-ready to enjoy the show.

"No, Denki," Sero groaned, dragging his hands down his face in pure melodrama. "I am absolutely not okay. I'm stressed out over my boyfriend's family dinner this Sunday that I might not even survive to go to—because my boyfriend is mad at me, and honestly? He might kill me before training is even over."

Denki blinked, eyes wide. "Okay... what did you do?"

Sero sighed, as if preparing to recount a heroic saga filled with tragedy. "Well... it all started like this."

Flashback — 7:03 AM, Dorm Kitchen

Sero yawned hard enough to dislocate his jaw as he shuffled into the kitchen in his loose hoodie and pajama pants. His hair stuck up on one side from sleeping weird, and his eyes were half-lidded as he scratched his back with a grunt.

Last night had been hell. He'd been up with Bakugou, Mina, Kirishima Kaminari, and even Tokoyami—yes, Tokoyami, who had notes—coaching him on how not to embarrass himself at the Todoroki family dinner.

It was like preparing for a UN peace treaty. Bakugou nearly blew out his eardrums yelling at him to "STOP BEING A DUMBASS" every five seconds. Kaminari had no helpful advice, just moral support. And Tokoyami had insisted Sero memorize poetic greetings like "May your household burn not in conflict, but in warmth."

The only thing keeping him going? The one last churro his mom had sent from home. His mom's churros were legendary. Fluffy inside, crispy outside, dusted with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. He'd been saving it for this morning. His treat. His joy. His one tether to sanity.

He opened the fridge.

He blinked.

His heart stopped.

The churro was gone.

"What the fuck?!"

The scream echoed through the dorm kitchen.

"No. NO. NO!" Sero slammed the fridge shut so hard a condiment bottle rattled out of the door shelf.

"Motherfucker," he hissed, seething. "Someone's gonna die."

"Hanta?" a calm voice came from behind. Todoroki stepped into the kitchen, already dressed for the day and sipping tea. "Are you ready to—"

"No!" Sero cut him off with theatrical flair, clutching the empty fridge door like a lifeline. "Someone ate my churro! The one from my mom! The one I've been dreaming about since Tuesday!""

Todoroki blinked slowly, expression unreadable.

"Hanta—"

"I have been WAITING for this day! I've resisted every single sugar craving for this moment! I fought myself! I deserve this!"

" Hanta-"

" When I find out who it was, I'm literally, going to destruye todo su linaje y asegúrate de que nunca vuelvan a caminar!"

( Destroy their entire bloodline and make sure they shall never walk again)

Todoroki frowned, confused. "I ate it."

Sero blinked. The room fell silent.

"You're joking, right?" he asked, laughing nervously.

"No. You said I could have it."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did."

"No, I—! TODOROKI!"

"You literally said, 'mi vida, you can have it,' last night on the phone."

"WHEN?"

"You said you were tired and told me to grab something from the fridge. I asked, 'Is that churro your mom's?' and you said, 'Yeah, but you can have it if you want.' And I said, 'Are you sure?' and you said—"

"Todoroki!"

Sero groaned, pressing his fingers into his temples. "I didn't say that."

"Yes, you did," Todoroki said quietly, his voice lowering, a flicker of something unreadable — maybe hurt? — flashing briefly in his eyes.

"No, maybe you just wanted to hear that," Sero replied with a sigh, his voice unintentionally sharp.

Todoroki's gaze darkened for a heartbeat, lips tightening just enough to betray his calm facade.

"So you're calling me a liar?" His voice dropped to a low, quiet challenge.

"No, I—Roki, c'mon—"

"Because it sounds like you don't believe me."

There was a pause. The kitchen seemed to hold its breath.

Sero's frustration finally broke through. "Look, Todoroki, just admit you ate the churro!" he snapped, the words coming sharper than intended.

Immediately, regret bloomed in his chest. He saw the flicker of pain cross Todoroki's face — not anger, but something quieter, a brief sting of betrayal that Sero hadn't meant to cause.

Todoroki's jaw tightened. "Fine. Don't believe me."

And just like that, Todoroki spun on his heel and walked out.

Sero stood frozen, mouth agape, staring at the empty fridge like it had personally betrayed him.

"Great," he muttered to himself, voice low and defeated. "No churro, pissed-off boyfriend, and homeroom in ten minutes. Amazing job, Sero."

Back to Present

"And that's how I pissed him off." Sero finished, slumping against Denki's shoulder.

Denki blinked. "...Bro. You're so fucked."

"I KNOW THAT, DENKI."

"Why didn't you just say you gave it to him?"

"Because I don't remember giving it to him! Maybe I was half-asleep, maybe he dreamed it, I don't know! All I know is he's mad and I'm gonna get roasted alive in front of the entire class!"

"Sero!" Aizawa barked. "Quit whining and go to your team."

Sero groaned dramatically like a death row inmate.

He trudged across the field to his assigned team: Kirishima, Sato, Mina, and Ojiro—a solid, physically strong team. Still, no amount of muscle could save him from the emotional damage heading his way.

"Welcome to the team~" Mina sang, grinning. "You ready to get your butt kicked by your own boyfriend?"

Sero flipped Mina off without hesitation. Kirishima wheezed with laughter, nearly spilling his bottle of sports drink.

"Damn, dude. You look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"That's because your fucking boyfriend is the reason I have a stress ulcer," Sero deadpanned, dark circles framing his eyes like war paint.

"Aw, c'mon. Katsuki just wants you to impress the icy future in-laws," Kirishima teased, giving him a wink so exaggerated it almost counted as harassment.

Mina leaned over the table with a mischievous grin. "Yeah, he's trying to make you less you."

Sero narrowed his eyes. "Wait—when did you two become besties again?"

"Last night," Mina said with a shrug, popping a grape into her mouth. "We finally squashed the whole 'did we or didn't we have a crush' thing."

"Now they're bonded by a higher cause," Kirishima added dramatically.

"Torturing you," Mina said in unison with him, both giving twin thumbs-ups.

"I hate this team."

Mina gave him a sudden, tight hug anyway. "We love you, fake and dramatic as you are."

"Guys—look," Ojiro cut in suddenly, his voice low but alert.

They all turned toward the opposite side of the training field. Shoji, Aoyama, Momo, Kouda... and Todoroki, standing like a final boss with his arms folded across his chest. His eyes—cold, sharp gray-blue—were locked onto Sero with an intensity that made Sero feel like his funeral playlist was already queued up.

Todoroki's expression didn't change, but somehow his disappointment radiated like frostbite.

Sero gulped. "I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are, my friend," Sato nodded solemnly, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Yes, you are."

Aizawa groaned from the side of the field, voice scratchy and annoyed as always. "Alright, demon children—let's see how well you've been training... BEGIN!"

The temperature plummeted before Sero even blinked. A crackling gust of wind rushed past him as heat shimmered on the air. He barely managed to dodge a blast of ice that froze the grass near his foot. His eyes shot up—his boyfriend had already activated both quirks.

"Holy shit," he muttered, panic buzzing in his chest. He turned desperately to Sato. "Dude, please fight mi vida. I'll give you free churros for two weeks."

Sato hummed thoughtfully. "Tempting, but—"

He didn't finish. Shoji vaulted through the air and collided with him mid-sentence.

Sero groaned as he leapt backward, firing his tape and hoisting himself onto a nearby lamp post. He balanced precariously, scanning the field.

Kirishima was clashing hard with Momo—metal vs. stone. Mina was dancing around Aoyama, her acid hissing in the air as his sparkles beamed and scattered. Ojiro was—poor guy—trying to land a single hit on Todoroki.

It wasn't going well.

Then Sero's eyes landed on Kouda.

Standing on the sidelines.

Vulnerable. Kind. Nervous.

He grinned. "Oh hell yeah."

He flung himself forward with a burst of tape, somersaulting mid-air until he landed directly in front of Kouda. The other boy stiffened.

"Mi amigo!" Sero chirped.

Kouda blinked. "O-Okay, Sero... let's fight. I guess."

Sero didn't hesitate. Tape shot from his elbows and coiled around Kouda's arms. "No hard feelings!"

But Kouda—bless his nature-loving heart—squeaked out a command under his breath, and suddenly Sero was under attack from a full-blown avian assault unit.

A dozen birds swooped in, pecking mercilessly at his head, arms, even his ears.

"AW WHAT THE FUCK?!"

He staggered back blindly, flailing as the birds circled like a feathery gang of vengeance. He didn't even see the frozen patch beneath him until it was too late.

His feet slipped.

Down he went.

Flat on his back, covered in bird scratches and pride wounds.

"OW! What the hell, man?!"

"I'm so sorry!" Kouda called frantically. "They don't listen great in groups!"

Grumbling, Sero wrapped himself in tape and yanked his sore body up into the air, flinging himself away from the squawking cloud of judgmental wings.

"How is this my life?" he muttered as he zipped past a fake rooftop and swerved through a crumbling archway.

He kept swinging until he spotted an abandoned building just ahead—glass shattered, metal beams exposed, looking like something out of a disaster film. He narrowed his eyes. A good spot to hide.

Sero flipped mid-air, coiling his tape and launching himself through a broken upper-floor window. He tumbled into a dusty mock office room, rolling to his feet with practiced agility. The flock of birds screeched outside, narrowly missing him as they flew past.

He panted, brushing glass off his uniform. "Damn it, I hate birds..."

The air inside the building was eerily still, the kind of silence that made your skin crawl. Fake cubicles, desks, and chairs filled the floor—obvious training props, but the dim lighting and flickering ceiling panels gave it a creepy vibe.

"Huh... this is a good replica—"

"Shouldn't you be fighting?"

Sero stiffened.

That voice.

A flicker of light illuminated the far side of the room. From the shadows, a streak of blue frost slithered along the floor as a puff of fire ignited beside it. Todoroki stepped forward, one foot in flame, the other encased in ice, his eyes cold and focused.

"Oh, goddamn it," Sero muttered, taking a step back into a fighting stance.

Todoroki raised a brow, calm but deadly. "You're not getting away again."

"Hey, mi vida, you do remember we're boyfriends, right?" Sero asked with a strained smile.

"That doesn't matter. This is training," Todoroki snapped. His breath misted from his ice side, while his other hand glowed with fire.

"Right, right, training... bye!"

Sero bolted and launched himself out the broken window again, just as a wave of ice exploded behind him. Shards of glass and frozen air chased after him. He swung between buildings, dodging a barrage of ice lances that Todoroki hurled from the rooftop.

"UGHH! HEY! That's excessive, Shoto!"

But Todoroki wasn't holding back.

A jet of fire erupted from behind, searing through one of Sero's tape lines mid-swing. It snapped with a loud crack. Sero gasped and plunged downward, twisting just in time to crash onto the hood of a fake but sturdy car. The impact knocked the air from his lungs.

"F-Fuck...!"

The street vibrated. He forced himself upright, groaning. In the distance, Todoroki strode through the smoke, eyes locked on him like a predator. Both quirks active now—flames spiraling from his left hand, frost crawling up his right arm and down the pavement.

"Mi vida—no. Okay, Todoroki. You want a fight? You got it."

Todoroki raised a hand and slammed it into the ground. A glacier-sized wave of jagged ice shot forward. Sero sprang up, wrapping his tape around a street lamp and swinging high. He looped around and launched two rapid strands of tape at Todoroki's legs, binding him.

"Wow, didn't think you couldn't handle a little tape~" Sero teased with a grin.

Todoroki scowled and ignited, fire bursting around his body and instantly incinerating the bindings. He aimed a blast upward. Sero flipped in the air just in time to avoid the flame column and landed on a rooftop across the street.

"Okay, okay! Someone's got a temper~" Sero called.

Todoroki narrowed his eyes. "Your jokes aren't going to save you."

"Maybe not," Sero grinned, "but they got me a hot boyfriend~"

A bright blush spread across Todoroki's face—just before he launched a flaming arc directly at him. Sero cartwheeled backward and launched tape at a nearby sign, swinging down and looping behind Todoroki.

Sero's fingers worked fast, wrapping Todoroki's legs tight in slick tape. With a sharp tug, he yanked hard—sending Todoroki crashing heavily to the pavement with a bone-jarring thud. Dust kicked up around them. Sero landed a few feet away, crouching low with a cocky smirk.

"Whoa whoa, you really do look like mi vida... but he'd never be this grumpy~" he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Todoroki snarled low in his throat and shot a scalding plume of fire from his left side, the heat roaring like a wild beast. Sero dove to the side just in time, but the flames licked at his uniform, singeing the fabric with a sharp smell of burnt cloth.

"Okay—rude," he said, voice ragged but playful. "This about this morning? I'm sorry, alright? I was probably tired as fuck—I totally told you you could eat my churro." His grin was uneven, guilt flashing behind the tease.

Todoroki's eyes flashed crimson with irritation as he surged forward with sudden, blistering speed. His boot connected square in Sero's gut with a crushing force that knocked the wind right out of him. Sero doubled over, staggering backward, clutching his midsection as air whooshed painfully past his lips.

With practiced ease, Todoroki ripped the tape off his legs, the sticky strands peeling free. He squared up, muscles tense, stance solid.

"I'm not holding back," he said through gritted teeth, ice glittering at his feet.

Sero wiped blood from his mouth, eyes narrowing with a new sharpness. "Alright then... neither will I."

In a blur of motion, Sero flipped forward, gathering momentum. His boots connected with Todoroki's chest in a rapid double kick, sending him hurtling into the side of a mock building wall with a resounding crack. Concrete dust exploded around the impact.

Before Todoroki could regain footing, Sero lunged, wrapping tape around his arms and hoisting him into the air. The streetlight above creaked under Todoroki's weight as he dangled upside down, limbs bound.

"Maybe I'll go out with the guys tonight," Sero teased, breath ragged. "Or take myself on a date. Pity—mi vida missed out~"

Todoroki's glare froze Sero in place, eyes burning icily as he summoned a burst of frost from his foot. An immense wall of shimmering ice erupted upward, encasing Sero mid-taunt in a thick, crystalline prison.

"Wha—?! Shit! NOT AGAIN!" Sero gasped, struggling as frost crept over his uniform, seeping through the cracks.

Todoroki dropped to the ground, cracking his knuckles with chilling finality.

"I'm done playing games."

The ice crept faster now, an unforgiving tide of cold that slithered up Sero's legs like merciless fingers, clawing at his skin with a biting chill that sank deep into his bones.

Each frozen inch robbed him of feeling, muscles stiffening, threatening to lock tight and shatter under the pressure. His breath hitched, ragged and shallow, heart pounding wildly against the cold cage tightening around him. He struggled to stay upright, every movement a battle, voice trembling but fierce with stubborn defiance.

"Come on, mi vida," he gasped, eyes burning as they locked with Todoroki's, "at least give me some breathing room! Seriously, I've got trauma from your last freezer trick—don't do this to me again."

But Todoroki's expression was a fortress of ice and stone, utterly unmoved by the desperate plea. His boot slammed down with crushing force, encasing Sero's feet in an unbreakable sheath of frost that bit through fabric and flesh alike, turning sensation into a chilling numbness that numbed more than just his limbs.

"You always do this," Todoroki bit out, voice low but sharp, laced with fury and something far more fragile simmering just beneath the surface. "You always think things are a joke to you!"

Sero's body trembled as the cold spread swiftly, a relentless tide swallowing his legs, creeping up over knees, inching toward his core like a slow, suffocating freeze. His hands were next—icy cuffs wrapping tight, suffocating movement, the paralysis crawling steadily until every muscle screamed in protest.

"Do you yield?" Todoroki's voice came again, colder than the frost wrapping Sero like a shroud, unforgiving, eyes sharp as knives that cut straight through any façade.

Sero forced a shaky, uneven grin, panic clawing raw at his throat, burning like acid. "Y-You gotta stop with the whole 'freeze my limbs' thing—it's kinda your only move, mi vida."

"Stop it! This is a fight! Not your games!" Todoroki snapped, the tension in his voice snapping like a wire stretched too tight.

Sero's smile faltered, and for a fleeting moment, the teasing armor cracked, replaced by something painfully real. He knew—he knew—Todoroki was pissed. More than pissed. Hurt. Still carrying wounds from the whole churro incident from this morning.

"M-Mi vida," Sero's voice wavered, fragile like glass in the cold, "I'm sorry, I—I'll just get another churro—"

"It's not about the damn churro, Hanta!" Todoroki's words exploded like lightning, sharp and piercing.

Sero stopped mid-sentence, the air between them thick with tension, unspoken pain. Todoroki's glare was a blade, slicing through every excuse.

"You wouldn't let me explain myself," Todoroki's voice cracked with raw hurt, eyes blazing with accusation. "You just assumed. You said basically I—I was a liar and that hurts! I thought you trust me or was it a lie?!"

Sero's chest tightened so sharply it was like the frost itself had sunk into his heart. He hissed, biting back a shudder as more ice snaked along his side, but his eyes never wavered from Todoroki's burning gaze.

"I—I know," Sero choked out, voice raw and ragged. "And it was very fucked up of me. And I do trust you! A-And you don't deserve that. You don't deserve any of this."

Todoroki's breath hitched, a soft tsk escaping him as he crossed his arms, the fire in his eyes flickering with something unspoken, almost breaking.

Sero exhaled deeply, shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt and regret.

"I'm so sorry, mi vida. You're right. I didn't let you talk. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm an asshole. I'm so sorry." His voice cracked, almost breaking under the weight of the confession. "You trusted me, and I didn't trust you. I can't believe I hurt you over something so stupid."

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating—heavy with everything they hadn't said, with all the pieces scattered on the cold ground between them.

Sero's voice softened further, raw and vulnerable.

"You really got an idiot of a boyfriend. I've become one of those people who hurt you—the ones you shouldn't have to worry about." He swallowed hard, pain plain in his eyes. "You deserve so much better, Shoto... so much better."

The words hovered between them, fragile and trembling, like a thread stretched thin but unbroken.

And then—slowly—Todoroki's face shifted. The rigid cold mask cracked, his eyes widening as the walls he'd built faltered. He looked down at his frozen boyfriend, his voice barely a whisper, trembling with something raw, unguarded, real.

"H-Hanta—"

Before either of them could react, the ground beneath them trembled violently.

BOOM.

The whole training arena shook as a monstrous chunk of one of the mock skyscrapers cracked loose. It shattered, tumbling down like a concrete avalanche with a thunderous roar, casting a huge shadow that swallowed the light.

"Oh, fuck," Sero hissed, eyes wide.

Todoroki's jaw clenched. Without hesitation, he unleashed a furious burst of fire from his left palm directly at the ice encasing Sero. The blaze roared, melting the frosty prison in seconds—steam erupted around them with a violent hiss.

Sero gasped as the icy grip shattered. Without thinking, he lunged forward, grabbing Todoroki's waist with one arm and launching a fresh coil of tape with the other. It latched onto a steel beam overhead, and he yanked hard, swinging them both out of the collapsing alley.

"Whoa, I didn't think—"

"HANTA, WATCH OUT!" Todoroki yelled, voice raw with urgency.

Sero barely had time to register before—

WHAM!

An enormous flying car—launched like a cannonball by an out-of-control quirk clash—slammed into them mid-air.

The impact detonated like a bomb.

Glass shattered. Metal screamed. Wind howled past their ears.

They were flung like ragdolls through the glass façade of an abandoned furniture store. They slammed through display shelves, fake bedroom sets, and tile flooring with sickening force, the crash echoing for blocks.

Sero hit the ground hard, breath knocked out of him. Pain exploded in his shoulder, his back, his chest. His ears rang like fire alarms. His vision wobbled.

But then—silence.

A heartbeat later, he rolled onto his side, teeth clenched in agony. Blood leaked from a cut above his brow. His arms burned. Something felt... off in his left ribcage. Cracked, maybe.

He blinked through the dust.

"Todoroki...?"

His stomach twisted.

Just feet away, Todoroki lay still.

His head had hit something—a metal bedframe or a shattered dresser—and blood was trickling from a deep cut on his temple.

"...Mi vida?" Sero croaked.

Panic spiked. He dragged himself across the ruined floor on all fours, ignoring the pain screaming through his limbs. Shards of glass bit into his palms, but he didn't care.

He reached Todoroki's side, pressing trembling fingers to his neck.

Still warm. Pulse fluttering—faint, but there.

"Okay. Okay. You're alive. You're here."

Sero's voice trembled, choked by the smoke curling up his throat. His arms curled tight around Todoroki's limp body, feeling every inch of him too still, too hot, too cold. He buried his face in Todoroki's hair—ash-dusted, half-scorched—and pressed a kiss to his bloodied forehead.

"I've got you. I've got you," he whispered.

But the moment cracked.

A groan from above. A crack. A shudder.

The entire structure whined in protest, a shrieking metal death cry echoing through the ruined arena. The ceiling above groaned, then snapped with a deafening CRACK that sent a shudder down every support beam.

Smoke curled in thick plumes, black and choking, coiling around firelight that flared up the walls and reached hungrily toward the ceiling. A jagged steel beam dangled overhead like a guillotine, swaying from frayed supports, ready to drop.

Sero's pulse spiked.

His eyes darted to Todoroki—motionless on the scorched floor, blood streaking down his temple, skin far too pale under layers of soot. The floor beneath him had already begun to give way, crumbling like stale crackers. One more second and—

"Shit—!"

He didn't think. Couldn't. Instinct hijacked everything.

Sero launched forward, pain exploding in his side from where debris had nailed him earlier, but he didn't stop. His tape shot out with a practiced snap as he skidded to his knees beside Todoroki.

"One, two—fuck me, sorry, baby—three!"

With a ragged grunt, Sero surged forward through the smoke, lungs burning and ribs screaming from where debris had struck earlier. He didn't have the luxury to stop. Not with the structure groaning above them. Not with Todoroki unconscious and crumpled in his path like a broken doll.

"No time," Sero muttered to himself, already reaching.

He crouched low, threading one arm beneath Todoroki's knees, the other wrapping behind his shoulders. Sero heaved him up, locking into a fireman's carry—fast, practiced.

His grip was firm but careful, adjusting for the limp weight. He wrapped the other's limp hand around his neck as his left hand caught Todoroki's dangling wrist, pressing it tight against his side to keep it from flopping with every movement.

He shifted the unconscious teen over his shoulder in one smooth motion, balancing him high and tight. Todoroki's head slumped down against his back, his breath barely brushing Sero's back—shallow, but there. Still alive.

"Too heavy—no offense baby," he panted, gritting his teeth.

A thunderous snap above.

He fired tape.

Thwip!

It latched onto the last intact beam.

The moment he yanked it taut, the floor beneath them gave out with a ground-splitting roar. Stone, steel, fire—all collapsed in a violent cascade. The beam overhead crashed into the floor with a metallic clang as fire exploded behind them like the breath of some enormous beast.

WHOOSH—

They were airborne.

The shockwave chased them, hurling burning fragments and debris like knives through the smoke. Sero held Todoroki tight against his chest as the heat nipped at their heels, his grip white-knuckled, his mind singular in its focus:

Get him out. Get him out.

He spotted a wall up ahead. Fast. Too fast. No time to redirect.

"Shit—!"

With a grunt, he twisted mid-swing and flipped Todoroki forward—one arm wrapping completely around the unconscious boy's waist. His entire body shielded Todoroki's limp form.

WHAM.

They slammed into the wall.

Sero's back met the bricks with a crunch. The impact stole his breath. A sharp pain lit his ribs on fire, and he felt fresh blood trail down from a wound on his temple, but none of it mattered.

He still had him.

He blinked through the sting of smoke and sweat, forcing his legs to work, tape launching again. The line snapped taut, pulling them upward as flaming rubble rained down from the sky. A slab of concrete the size of a fridge barely missed them.

Another swing.

Another rooftop.

Midair, he released Todoroki briefly—just long enough to reposition—and caught him again in a tighter, more protective hold as they landed. Sero twisted mid-fall, hitting the ground shoulder-first to cushion Todoroki's body from the impact.

His knees buckled. His whole body screamed.

He collapsed to his side on the roof, still holding Todoroki like something precious and breakable. His fingers shook. Every breath burned.

"...Mi vida... you're gonna be the death of me," he croaked, resting his forehead against Todoroki's hair for just a second.

Below them, the battlefield was chaos. Fires still roared. Smoke coated the air in a thick haze. Rescue drones whirred to life, zipping between the wreckage, scanning for vitals. Somewhere off to the side, an entire section of the practice arena had caved in.

And then—

BZZZKT.

A speaker screeched to life, half-static.

"Team B has won the match."

Sero blinked. "Wait—what? We lost?!"

He groaned, eyes to the sky. "I get impaled by a fucking flying Nissan Sentra and we lose? Come on!"

The silence that followed was interrupted only by the distant drone of rescue bots moving through the wreckage below.

The complaint died on his lips when he looked back down at Todoroki.

His hand found Todoroki's again—dirtied, scratched, but warm. He gently laced their fingers, then reached down and wiped away the soot smearing Todoroki's brow.

"I don't care," he whispered. "I really, really don't care."

He sat up slowly, cradling Todoroki close to his chest, shifting so his head could rest securely against his shoulder. His other hand rose, carding gently through Todoroki's tangled hair, clearing soot and bits of gravel from the white and red strands.

"I'd do it again," Sero murmured, voice hoarse. "The bruises, the burns, the panic. The damn headache. The—ugh—completely nonexistent left buttcheek. I'd do it again."

A beat of silence.

Then he added under his breath, "Just don't make me carry you like a sleeping Disney princess every single time, alright? Every once in a while is ok but my back hurts."

Below them, emergency units began scanning the area. The broken bones of the battlefield still smoldered. Yaoyorozu's voice buzzed in his earpiece, calm but strained with worry. Kirishima's louder tones overlapped hers with urgent instructions. But Sero tuned them all out.

His world was Todoroki, quiet and still in his arms.

"I'd do it a thousand times," he said softly, forehead resting against Todoroki's. "Because it's you, mi amor."

Todoroki stirred faintly in his arms—just a twitch. A breath deeper than the last. Sero immediately straightened, brushing his fingers over his cheek.

"Hey. It's okay. I've got you. You're safe."

And as the sun dipped lower, fire smoldered in the distance, and broken buildings loomed like skeletons, Sero held Todoroki like the most precious thing in the world.

He'd saved him.

And he'd do it a thousand times more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Todoroki blinked, slow and disoriented.

The sterile smell of antiseptic hung faintly in the air, clinging to the edges of his foggy consciousness. He winced as a dull pain throbbed against the side of his skull. The ceiling above him was white, smooth—familiar.

Recovery Girl's office.

His eyes shifted sluggishly across the room. The walls were awash in the honeyed light of early sunset, casting soft orange and pink glows that spilled lazily across the floor. Dust particles floated in the quiet air, catching in the light like snowflakes.

He tried to sit up and hissed, one hand instinctively flying to his head where he felt the thick wrap of bandages. His body ached, his limbs stiff with bruises and overexertion. He inhaled slowly and exhaled shakily.

Another visit here. Another battle that went too far.

He didn't remember the end of it, he just remember swinging with Sero then...blank.

However he does remember him and Sero fighting, how he was so angry then...he froze Sero...again... then the rest was blank...

His throat tightened.

' I'm...the worst... Hanta must hates me...'

That thought made his head spin.

And then—

"Oh, mi bella durmiente finalmente ha despertado."

(My sleeping beauty has finally awakened)

The voice filtered in like sunlight, teasing and gentle. A voice that lived in the softer parts of his memory, where safety and chaos blurred together.

Todoroki turned his head, too fast, and immediately regretted it. A sharp hiss escaped his lips. The dull ache behind his eyes sharpened, but still—he found him.

Sero stood in the doorway, slouched but steady, as if leaning there was the only thing keeping him upright. His hair was tousled, flattened on one side from what looked like a nap in a waiting chair. A bandage peeked from beneath his fringe, and he cradled his left side carefully—but he was smiling.

That crooked grin—the one Todoroki could recognize by heart.

His chest gave a small, involuntary flutter.

"W-What happened?" Todoroki croaked, voice scratchy.

Sero limped toward him, flopping down beside the bed with theatrical effort. "Well... after you froze my ass again—thanks for that, by the way—a building decided to fall on us. Then Sato, in all his sugar-fueled glory, threw a car at us. And we dodged more falling buildings, barely. Your team won. We lost. Boom. The end."

Despite the sarcasm, there was fondness in Sero's voice—a warm undercurrent threading through each word like golden thread through frayed cloth. A softness lingered behind the teasing grin, something deeper, something fiercely gentle.

He looked at Todoroki like he always had—not like someone broken or dangerous, but like someone whole. Someone worth loving, even when hurting.

And that—more than anything—made Todoroki ache.

His fingers clenched the bed's blanket, his knuckles white against the pale linen. "H-Hanta, I'm—"

"Nope," Sero cut in gently, voice firm but not sharp. Like a hand on a storm-wet shoulder. "Before you go spiraling into self-blame mode again, let me say something first, yeah?"

Todoroki blinked, startled, the words caught behind his teeth. His shoulders stilled. His lips parted like he wanted to protest—but nothing came.

Sero's smile faltered. The performative ease in his posture melted into something quieter, realer. His shoulders dropped. His eyes softened.

"I was an ass this morning," he said, his voice low, earnest. "Snapping at you over churros? Seriously. What the hell was that? Who even does that?"

He laughed, but it was hollow, more self-deprecating than amused.

"I was tired. Stressed. Acting like a brat. I let something so stupid dig a wedge between us. And that's on me, not you. I'm... really sorry, mi vida. You didn't deserve that. Not then. Not ever."

Todoroki blinked again, slower this time. His brow furrowed deeper, like the apology physically hurt to receive.

"I'm... I'm sorry for freezing you," he muttered, the words falling heavy and bitter from his lips. "Again."

Sero snorted quietly, but it wasn't dismissive. "Yeah, you sure did. Turned me into a damn icicle. Again." His smile ghosted across his face—fleeting, brief. "But... honestly? I deserved it this time."

"No you didn't," Todoroki shot back quickly—too quickly. His voice cracked around the edges. "And it's not funny. I hurt you."

Sero's amusement faded when he saw Todoroki's hands begin to tremble.

"I went too far," Todoroki whispered, his voice cracking around the edges. "I was reckless. I wasn't thinking. I hurt you—again."

The humor drained instantly from Sero's face. He saw it now—the way Todoroki's hands were trembling where they gripped the blanket, the way his jaw tensed like he was trying to hold in more than just tears.

Todoroki's voice dropped, ragged and unsteady. "I went too far."

His breath hitched.

"I wasn't thinking. I—I didn't mean to lose control like that. I didn't want to—"

His fists clenched tighter, his entire frame shrinking inwards like he was trying to vanish under the weight of what he'd done.

"Hurt you a-again."

His voice broke on the word again.

Shame twisted deep in his gut like barbed wire. He couldn't bring himself to look up, couldn't bear to see disappointment in Sero's face. He was too afraid of what might already be there. His breath shook in his chest like glass on the verge of shattering.

"I was just so... mad at you. And confused. When you said you didn't believe me, I—I didn't understand what I'd done. It felt like you pulled the ground out from under me." He swallowed, hard. "You're the one person I trust with everything. And it felt like you didn't trust me back. And that... that broke something."

Sero's expression softened, pained.

"But that's still no excuse," Todoroki choked out, eyes locked on his hands. "No excuse to hurt you. No excuse to go overboard like I did. I caused you real harm, Hanta—physical harm—because I couldn't handle my own emotions."

His voice quivered. "I never wanted to be that person. I never want to be someone you have to flinch around. Someone you fear."

He exhaled hard through his nose, trembling now, visibly trying to hold back the flood inside him.

"What kind of hero..." he whispered, barely audible now, "attacks their own—"

But he couldn't finish the sentence. His voice cracked in half. His throat closed up, crushed under the pressure.

Something sharp and unbearable bloomed in his chest and surged upward. Without another word, he folded into himself, curling tight, arms wrapped around his knees like he could squeeze the guilt out through sheer force.

His voice came muffled from behind his knees. "You must hate me..."

Silence.

A deep, thick quiet settled in the hospital room. Not empty, not cold—just still. The only sounds were the gentle ticking of the heart monitor beside the bed and the hush of golden sunlight crawling across the floor. Dust hung in the air, soft and glittering, as if the room itself were holding its breath.

Todoroki pressed his face into his knees. If he stayed like this—curled up, hidden—maybe he could disappear.

Then—

A soft rustle. The brush of fabric. A shift in weight.

Sero leaned forward. He didn't touch him yet. Just sat closer. Voice low, like a thread in the quiet.

"Mi vida," he said, tender and unwavering. "Please... look at me."

Todoroki didn't move at first.

But Sero didn't rush him. He waited, patient and quiet, hands resting on his knees. A quiet kind of strength.

Then—slowly—Todoroki lifted his head.

Like a flower testing sunlight after a long, dark storm, he unfurled. His eyes were wet, lashes clumped and dark. His cheeks were flushed with shame, with emotion he didn't know how to voice. And behind all of it—fear. Real, raw fear.

He looked so vulnerable in that moment.

So human.

Sero didn't flinch.

He offered a smile—not his usual grin, not his teasing charm. Just a real, open, kind smile. One that held no judgment. Only love.

"I don't hate you," he said simply. Softly. As if it was the easiest truth in the world.

Todoroki blinked. He looked like he didn't quite believe it. "You... don't?"

Sero shook his head,he reached out and gently took Todoroki's shaking hands in his own. His palms were warm, steady, grounding.

"Of course not," Sero said, voice steady. "You didn't attack me. You lost control. That happens. That happens, mi vida. Especially when you're hurting."

"But I didn't hold back," Todoroki murmured. His eyes dropped, shame tugging him back into himself. "I felt so angry. So frustrated. I let it spill out and—and you got caught in it...Again."

"And I didn't hold back either," Sero said, squeezing his hands. "That's what training's about, right? We push limits. Sometimes we go over. That's how we learn."

Todoroki's shoulders hunched slightly.

"You're training to be a hero, right?" Sero continued, softer now, thumbs brushing lightly over Todoroki's knuckles. "So am I. That means sometimes we mess up. Sometimes we hit too hard, or push when we should've pulled back. But it's never out of maliciousness. It's not because we want to hurt each other. It's because we trust each other to handle it. To come back stronger."

Todoroki blinked, eyes filling again. "But I—I hurt you."

"I've hurt you too," Sero said. "With words, with pressure, with my own impatience. Hell, I've seen that look on your face when I tease too hard."

"You're never cruel."

"And neither are you."

That made Todoroki freeze.

Sero's voice lowered to a near whisper. "It's not betrayal, mi vida. It's partnership. You and me—we train like this because we believe in each other. Because we know we'll get back up. We just need to be better at handling our emotions that's all. Set boundaries and...just talk."

He leaned forward slightly. "You're one hell of a partner, mi vida. You push me further than anyone ever has. You make me want to be better."

Todoroki's eyes shimmered. He looked at their joined hands, the way Sero held him so carefully, as if he were something precious and breakable—but not broken.

Then, wordlessly, Sero leaned in and kissed the tip of Todoroki's nose. It was gentle. Grounding. Not romantic fanfare or anything too grand—it was a soft affirmation, a declaration without pressure.

"You're one hell of a hero mi vida. My hero."

Todoroki blinked, stunned by the calm certainty in his voice. By how much it meant to hear it from him.

From Sero.

"And as far as me trusting you?" Sero added, smiling now. "I trust you so much it kinda scares me. I trust your strength, your honesty, your heart, your judgment—even though you've got a really crappy boyfriend who needs to work on his communication skills."

And slowly—uncertain, but real—a small smile tugged at the corners of Todoroki's lips. Like sunrise peeking through storm clouds.

Sero's grin widened. He reached up and wiped a tear from Todoroki's cheek with the pad of his thumb. "There it is," he said, voice soft and teasing. "My favorite smile in the world."

"You're ridiculous," Todoroki murmured, voice still thick but steadier now.

"I'm only ridiculous for you," Sero sing-songed sweetly. "Mi vida~"

That startled a small, breathy laugh from Todoroki—so quiet it nearly got swallowed by the steady beeping of the monitor.

Then, without speaking, Todoroki leaned forward. Arms wrapped slowly, carefully, around Sero's neck. He pressed his cheek into the crook of his shoulder, breath hitching, eyes fluttering shut.

Sero flinched, just a little—his bruises still sore, his muscles stiff from strain—but he didn't move away. If anything, he pulled Todoroki in closer, arms wrapping tightly around his waist, anchoring them both.

It wasn't just comfort.

It was trust.

It was surrender.

"Thank you," Todoroki whispered, voice muffled into Sero's uniform. "Thank you for still being here, Hanta."

His fingers clung to the fabric like it was the only solid thing in the room.

Sero pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, slow and reverent, letting his lips linger. A hum of comfort escaped him—low and warm in his chest.

"Anytime, mi vida," he whispered into Todoroki's hair. "Always, I'm not going anywhere."

Time lost meaning after that.

They didn't speak. They didn't move. The world spun on outside the sterile hospital walls, but here—within the quiet haven of each other's arms—there was only warmth. Only breath and heartbeat and the steady thrum of not alone.

Eventually—slowly, gently—Sero leaned back just enough to really see Todoroki's face. His hand lingered at the side of his jaw, thumb brushing over the faint scrape there as though he could soothe it away with touch alone. With his other hand, he carefully tucked a lock of red-white hair behind Todoroki's ear, fingers lingering like he was mapping out something precious, something sacred.

"You've got a ridiculously pretty face for someone who just got a whole car thrown at them," Sero murmured, his voice carrying that same teasing lilt he always had—but softened now, dipped in affection, threaded with unshakable tenderness.

Todoroki blinked, lashes low, his expression unreadable at first—then a faint wash of pink colored his cheeks. "You've seen me unconscious and bleeding, Hanta."

"And still pretty," Sero whispered, as if he were swearing an oath written in stone. His gaze softened even further, his smile more fragile than usual, like he was baring something rare. "But that's not why I fell for you."

Todoroki's breath caught, the air leaving him in the smallest of hitches.

"I fell for you because you're beautiful inside and out," Sero continued, quieter now, as though the words were for Todoroki alone—for no one else in the world. His thumb traced the curve of Todoroki's cheekbone, reverent.

Todoroki's face deepened to a rosier flush, and this time he didn't look away. He held Sero's gaze, steady but softened, letting himself be seen.

"Mi vida," Sero added, his tone lifting into playfulness again, a glint of mischief sparking in his warm brown eyes, "do you wanna have a movie date with me?"

Todoroki blinked once. Then, slowly, his lips curved upward into the faintest smile—like a sunrise hesitating but inevitable. "Oh?" His brow lifted, just slightly. "I'm the boyfriend you're taking out now?"

Sero's heart stumbled, tripping over itself in a stuttering beat. For a second he swore he forgot how to breathe. He grinned—too wide, too bright, but it didn't matter. "Well, yeah. Unless you don't want to. I mean, I guess I could always go watch movies with Denki—"

"No," Todoroki interrupted, quiet but firm, his voice threading into Sero's ribs like silk. "I do want to."

The sincerity, bare and simple, made something catch in Sero's throat. His chest felt tight in the best way, like his heart was too big to fit.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Todoroki's cheek—soft, deliberate, lingering. "You're too cute, mi vida," he murmured against his skin, words warm and feather-light.

Todoroki's cheeks turned an even softer pink, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into the kiss. Warmth bloomed behind his ribcage, spreading outward, filling spaces he hadn't even realized were empty.

He wanted to say it.

The words trembled on his tongue, heavy and fragile all at once:

I love you, Hanta.

But instead, he whispered, "You're amazing."

Sero blinked, startled, his ears going pink at the edges. "W-Well, I—"

A low, velvety chuckle slipped from Todoroki's lips, unguarded and impossibly tender. The sound wrapped around Sero like sunlight, curling into every corner of him until his chest felt too warm, too full.

Sero's grip on Todoroki's hand tightened instinctively, as though anchoring himself in that moment, in him. He wanted to say it back, the truth pressing insistently against his teeth:

I love you, mi amor.

But instead, his smile softened, fragile and real.
"You're amazing too, mi vida," he whispered back, every word saturated with the love he hadn't yet spoken aloud.

Their eyes met—warm brown, soft gray-blue—and something passed between them. Not quite spoken, but no less understood. A tether, invisible but undeniable, pulling their hearts closer, thread by golden thread.

Todoroki smiled deeper, the kind of smile he didn't show to the world—only to this boy in front of him.

And then, slowly, gently, as if the air itself had gone hushed, he leaned forward. His lashes lowered, his breath catching. Their foreheads nearly touched.

He was so close—

"Sero~ Where are you, man~?"

They both froze, like statues caught in the act of being alive.

Sero turned toward the door, eyes wide in comedic dread. "Awe shit."

Todoroki blinked. "What's wrong?"

"I really, really don't want to deal with them right now," Sero muttered, already sliding his hand down his face. "We literally got hit by a car. Can we get like... ten minutes?"

Todoroki let out a quiet, amused breath. "Hide."

Sero blinked again. "Are you serious?"

Todoroki smirked, dry and a little devious. "Go. I've got this."

"Okay, okay," Sero groaned with a dramatic sigh. He leaned forward quickly and pressed a kiss to Todoroki's temple—gentle and thankful. "Gracias, mi vida. You're way too good to me."

Todoroki watched fondly as Sero awkwardly lowered himself to the floor, wincing, and rolled beneath the bed just as the door opened with a creak.

Mina stepped in first, hair in a messy bun, a bandage peeking from under her shirt. "Shotobaby? You okay now?"

"Yes," Todoroki replied smoothly, sitting up straighter in bed.

"Hey Todoroki," Kirishima waved with a little grin.

"Hello," he nodded politely.

Denki limped in behind her, dragging his feet. "Hey, you seen Sero?"

Kirishima followed, limping slightly, voice full of that usual warmth. "Yeah, we need him for your dinner prep thing. Practicing table etiquette and all that?"

Todoroki, deep inside was touched that Sero was practicing for his family's dinner, but on the outside he just blinked. "No. Haven't seen him."

Denki squinted. "You sure? I thought I saw him sneak in here."

"Could've been a nurse," Todoroki offered smoothly.

Mina rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine. Maybe he ducked out for snacks or something."

As they turned to leave, Kirishima paused at the door. He looked back with a half-smile, the fluorescent hallway light catching the edge of his bandage. "By the way—Sero? Manliest save ever. Like, full-on 'save the damsel' type move. Swung in, scooped you out of falling debris, shielded you with his body—dude looked like Spider-Man on adrenaline."

Todoroki blinked, caught off guard. "He... he saved me?"

"Yeah dude," Denki said, leaning on the doorframe with a dramatic sigh. "He was full-on swinging you around like some romantic superhero while the buildings were literally crumbling. I mean, you should've seen it—it was epic."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Kirishima added with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. "The whole 'collapsing warehouse' thing was kind of a team effort. But Sero? He stuck the landing. Did a full aerial flip, tape lines flying, just—bam—caught you mid-fall. Like something straight out of an action movie."

"Honestly," Mina said with a teasing grin, "it was kinda romantic. You were all unconscious and bloody, and he was like—'Not on my watch!' Total knight-in-shining-armor vibes. I mean, he cradled your head like you were made of glass."

Todoroki's ears went faintly pink, and his gaze dropped to the rumpled blanket over his lap. "He's... always been reliable."

Mina waggled her eyebrows, backing out the door. "You're lucky, Shotobaby. You got yourself a tape-slinging knight in shining armor."

And with that, the door clicked shut behind them.

Silence fell again. Thick. Charged. Soft.

Then from under the bed came a long, exasperated groan. "Dios mío, I thought they'd never leave."

Sero slid out slowly, one hand brushing imaginary dust from his uniform, his other cradling his ribs. "Okay, not my finest hiding spot. You were way too convincing. Honestly, you scare me sometimes—"

He didn't even get to finish.

Todoroki surged forward without thinking, arms wrapping tightly around Sero's torso. No hesitation. No words.

Just warmth. Just gravity.

The hug wasn't casual. It was fierce. Vulnerable. Like the kind of thing someone does when they've almost lost something they didn't realize they needed so badly.

Sero froze at first—then melted. His arms wrapped around Todoroki in return, gentle but firm, pulling him in with that same steady strength he'd used when catching him midair.

Todoroki's cheek pressed against his shoulder, where he could hear the faint, quickened rhythm of Sero's heartbeat against his chest.

"You're my hero," Todoroki whispered, voice raw against his uniform.

It wasn't just gratitude.

It was something deeper. Older. Something that lived in the softest part of his chest and had bloomed, fragile and new, in the heat of battle and in the quiet after.

Sero's eyes widened, and his throat bobbed in a silent swallow. "You're my hero too, mi vida," he murmured, voice tight, emotional. "More than you ever know."

He kissed the top of Todoroki's head and let his lips linger there, his breath catching.

Todoroki leaned back slightly, just enough to look at him, and Sero saw it—clearer than ever in his eyes.

Brightness. Softness. Something open and unguarded, like a window pulled wide to let in spring air.

"I did promise you the princess treatment, didn't I?" Sero said suddenly, his voice dipping into mischief to chase away the heaviness. A crooked grin started to bloom at the corners of his mouth.

Todoroki blinked, tilting his head. "Huh?"

Before he could say another word, Sero shifted, bent low, and swept Todoroki off the ground in one fluid motion—strong arms cradling him beneath the knees and shoulders.

"Hanta?!"

"Shh. Let me have my dramatic moment," Sero grinned, trying not to wince as his back reminded him of his injuries. "You're getting knight-in-shining-armor realness, whether you like it or not."

Todoroki laughed.

Actually laughed.

It was startled and breathy and real—like sunlight breaking through a stormcloud. His arms flailed briefly before settling around Sero's neck, holding on instinctively.

"You're injured," Todoroki said between breathless chuckles

"So are you. But look who's being carried like the dramatic fairytale protagonist."

"You're absurd," the red and white haired mumbled into Sero's collarbone.

"Absurdly charming," Sero said proudly. "Now hold on tight, mi vida. We ride at dawn!"

"It's sunset," Todoroki deadpanned, even as laughter still bubbled in his chest.

"Details," Sero said, stepping forward like a man on a mission, as if his legs weren't still half-bruised and his balance shot. " Now, let's get some food."

Todoroki's head fell gently against Sero's chest, and his smile faded into something softer. Not gone—just quieter. Like a candle flame instead of a spark.

His fingers curled into Sero's uniform. His heartbeat slowed, syncing with the steady thrum of the boy carrying him through the fading light.

"I didn't know I was scared then I remembered pieces," Todoroki said quietly. "Voices. Tape pulling me away from fire. Someone holding me. I knew it was you."

Sero's face softened. He glanced down, almost shy. "You scared the hell out of me."

"You caught me."

"I always will."

Todoroki's breath hitched. He blinked hard once, then let the sound of Sero's heartbeat lull him. His lips barely moved.

"...I know."

That was it.

Not a big declaration.

Just trust. Just surrender.

His head nestled deeper against Sero's collarbone.

Sero pressed another soft kiss to his temple, holding him with the same gentle intensity he had when they'd been falling through fire. Like Todoroki was something rare and breakable. Like he mattered.

The sunlight poured in through the school's windows, bathing them both in gold and soft amber, as if the world itself had decided to hold its breath and honor the moment.

Sero walked on, careful and proud, with Todoroki held close in his arms.

Their laughter trailed behind them like a thread.

And between their hearts, a tether pulled tighter—silken and sure.

Like a promise.

They'd be okay.

Together.

Always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Tomorrow is the big day, little brother. How are we feeling?"

Sero sighed, flopping back dramatically onto his bed as he held his phone up, Aiko's grinning face filling the screen. "I'm feeling hella nervous," he muttered. "Like, mi vida told me the amount of shit this man has done to him and his family, and the fact that this man is not in jail—but is the number one hero—is so FUCKED up."

Aiko, back at college and tucked into her dorm's bean bag chair with a glittery face mask on, arched a brow. Her messy bun bounced a little when she leaned forward. "Listen, you didn't even tell me exactly what that man did, but if it's got you this mad, then that man is esta jodido en la cabeza."

(He's screwed in the head)

Sero groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, staring into the screen like it could swallow him. "I... I want his siblings to like me, you know? But that man..." He paused, pressing his knuckles to his temple. "He's just pure evil. Like, I know I can't do anything because, hello—he's Endeavor, he's the #1 Pro-Hero, and I'm a first-year who's still figuring out my internship schedule. But at the same time, I want to be there for mi vida, because he's so nervous. Like, so nervous."

He sat up again, voice getting quieter. "I think when we were hanging out today... he was biting his nails. Mi vida has never bitten his nails before."

"Aww, my poor Todo," Aiko cooed, tilting her head. "Listen, baby bro. It's obvious he's been through a lot of trauma, so you gotta put your hate for that viejo bastardo de fuego on the shelf for now. Be there for your boyfriend. Hold his hand, kiss his face, gas him up, and stand by his side. Then, when you're both pro-heroes? You can flame that bastard together."

( Old bastard of fire)

Sero chuckled. "You're right, sis. Thanks."

"No hay problema, hermanito." She grinned. "But hey—you should bring Todo over to meet the fam."

( No problem, little brother)

Sero froze mid-shirt tug as he was rifling through his closet. Slowly, he turned around to look at his phone. "Hell no."

"UGH, why!?"

"Aiko... he was overwhelmed just meeting you. So imagine him meeting all of you. Mama? Kael? Dad? Reina and Mio? Are you insane?"

Aiko crossed her arms, pout forming under her face mask. "I wasn't that bad..."

Sero narrowed his eyes. "You cornered him with a thirty-minute monologue about whether you should dye your hair silver and if he thought you could pull it off because you were a 'winter fairy'. He froze like he was caught in a Genjutsu."

Aiko groaned dramatically. "Okay, okay—baby steps, I guess. But how come you get to meet his family, but he doesn't meet ours?"

"Because his sister sounds normal. You guys are crazy."

Aiko raised both middle fingers. "I resent that, and I'm telling Mamí you're ashamed of us!"

"Ay dios..." Sero rubbed his face. "Aiko—"

"No no no," she said, faking a sob. "You've changed. You're a big, fancy, hot-shot hero student now. You don't love us anymore."

Sero groaned again, louder. "Now you sound like Kael..."

"Está bien, hermano pequeño," she teased, suddenly softening. "All I want is for you to be comfortable, and don't let that old bastard talk to you crazy. You're a Sero, and we protect our own."

( It's ok little brother)

He nodded slowly, heart clenching a little. "I know. I just... I want to make mi amor comfortable."

( my love)

There was a beat of silence on the other end.

Aiko blinked. "Wait... did you just call Todo mi amor?"

Sero's head jerked toward the screen. His lips parted. "Goddamn it."

"YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HIM!?"

"Shut up, Aiko!" Sero barked, ears already burning red.

Aiko squealed, kicking her legs up like a middle schooler at a sleepover. "Oh my GOOOSH, this is so cute! First boyfriend and now you're in love? Ahh, young, dumb, innocent amor!"

"You don't get it, Aiko," Sero said, chest rising and falling. "I really love him. Really."

The way his voice cracked just a little made her laughter die off.

Sero sat forward, voice low, honest. "You're gonna clown me, but... when I first saw him? I forgot how to breathe. My brain short-circuited. Every time he looks at me with those quiet, calm eyes, it's like the world just... stops. And when we were just friends, I already knew—knew—that no one should ever let him go."

He took a deep breath. "So when he said yes to being my boyfriend... it felt like the world finally made sense. I love him. I love him so much it hurts."

Aiko was quiet now, visibly blinking back tears.

"I know it's dumb. I know we're first years and barely know anything about life, but I've never felt this way before. And it's not just a crush—it's like... I want a future with him. I want to wake up next to him years from now. I want to hear him laugh at breakfast and kiss him goodnight. I want to help him heal, carry his pain, protect his smile. I want him right there with me, through everything. I want him forever."

...

...

...

Sero blinked, and then heard it—soft sniffles.

Aiko was crying. Quietly, but definitely crying.

"Aiko...?"

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. "That... that right there was the most beautiful, sweetest thing I've ever heard, and I swear to GOD, baby bro, if you don't marry that boy someday, I will personally beat both your asses."

Sero's jaw dropped. "Whoa whoa whoa—only beat my ass. Not mi amor's."

"Oh, I will beat his ass too," she warned, dabbing her eyes. "Because if he doesn't love you back after hearing that, he deserves it."

"AIKO, STOP—!"

"But you guys are so, so, so cute!" she wailed, all composure gone. "He so loves you! Like—oh my gosh—at your wedding, can I be the Groom of Honor?! Or Best Woman? Or Best Sister?! I'll wear a tux! Or a gown! Hell, a cape! I don't care—just let me be part of it!"

Sero flopped back on his bed, dragging a pillow over his face with a dramatic groan. "Aiko, please. You need to chill before I actually pass out."

"Oh, I will not chill," she sniffed. "I have waited years for you to be treated right. I prayed for this. I lit incense. I chanted. I sacrificed a pair of your ugly socks—"

Knock. Knock.

Sero sat up fast, blinking. "Who is it?"

A soft, familiar voice muffled through the door: "Hanta? Are you okay?"

His heart skipped. He looked at the screen. "Gotta go."

"Aw, what?! We usually talk for like two more hours!"

" Well you're not my hot and beautiful boyfriend aren't you?"

Aiko gasped dramatically. "Wow. I've had toxic exes and unwashed roommates but that cut deep."

Sero winced.

Knock. Knock.

"Hanta? Are you making those noises? Are you hurt?"

His heart leapt. "N-No, mi am—mi vida! Coming!"

He looked back down at his phone. "I'm hanging up."

"Fine! But just know, whenever you do bring your future husband over, I am telling him about that one Halloween when you—"

Click.

Sero hung up, tossing his phone aside with a groan. "God help me..."

He quickly smoothed out his shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door.

And there he was.

Shoto Todoroki. Hair slightly tousled, eyes soft with concern, wearing a fitted hoodie and sleep pants that somehow still made Sero's brain short-circuit. The hallway lights caught the faint glint of silver in his mismatched eyes, and Sero swore the air shifted when they landed on him.

" H-Hey?"

Todoroki sighed before he had a small smile, " Hey."

"What's up?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light, even as his heart did Olympic-level gymnastics.

"I heard yelling," Todoroki replied, his brows drawn together slightly. "I wanted to check on you. You okay?"

Sero smirked, playful. "Déjà vu, huh? Kinda reminds me of when I did the same thing for you—and you slammed the door in my face, mi vida."

Todoroki blushed immediately, lips pressing into a flat line. "That... wasn't a good day."

Sero chuckled and stepped closer, reaching out to gently take his hands. "I'm kidding. Did I wake you?"

Todoroki shook his head. "No. I couldn't sleep. But when I heard yelling, I just... I wanted to make sure you were okay."

That hit him harder than it should have.

Sero's heart swelled with so much affection it physically ached. He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against Todoroki's lips. It was gentle, meant more to comfort than anything. Todoroki blinked in surprise, but kissed back, slow and unsure but warm.

When they pulled back, Sero caught the familiar pink dusting across his boyfriend's cheeks.

'God, he was so cute.'

"You're truly kind, mi vida," he whispered, squeezing Todoroki's hands.

Todoroki looked down, a soft smile curving his lips. He squeezed back.

"Are you ready?" Sero asked gently.

Todoroki blinked. Then remembered. Tomorrow.

He exhaled shakily. "...No."

Sero's brow furrowed. "Oh, mi vida..."

Todoroki hesitated, teeth worrying his lower lip, his thumb brushing absently over Sero's knuckles as if grounding himself through touch. His shoulders were slightly hunched, guarded—not from the cold, but from the storm that always brewed in his chest when it came to his father.

"I just..." he finally said, voice low, halting, "I don't want my father to make you uncomfortable. Or for you to feel out of place. I don't want to bring you into... that."

His gaze dropped, as if ashamed. As if what he was about to say made him somehow less.

"I know I've worked hard to move past a lot of it. I know I've changed. But he hasn't. And there's still... there's still a weight in that house, Hanta. A kind of cold you can't melt. I don't want you to be dragged into it."

Sero's expression softened. He stepped forward, wordless at first, and gently lifted Todoroki's hand to cradle it between his own. His thumb traced slow, calming circles over his skin, like he was soothing the tremor Todoroki refused to show.

"Mi vida," he murmured. "Look at me."

Todoroki glanced up.

And he saw them—those eyes.

Warm. Unshakably kind. That deep, dark brown that always made him feel like he wasn't broken. Like maybe—just maybe—there was a version of him that deserved softness.

"I will be there," Sero said, voice firm but laced with so much care it almost didn't sound real. "Even if your dad's a complete bastard—which, yeah, he probably will be—I'll still be there. Because, mi vida... this? Us? That's what matters. You and me. Not him. Not what he thinks. Just you."

The words didn't land with force. They landed like snow. Quiet. Gentle. But so heavy with meaning they settled into Todoroki's chest and stayed there, melting into every wound he thought he had to hide.

Todoroki's breath hitched.

His heart was hammering now—loud, fast, almost painful. His hand trembled just slightly in Sero's. It wasn't fear. Not anymore.

It was something bigger. Something warmer.

Something that felt like love.

And for the first time, he didn't run from it.

He leaned into it.

Sero tilted his head when he noticed the look on Todoroki's face. "Mi vida, are you—?"

"I love you."

The words tumbled out fast. Urgent. Honest. Like they'd been waiting in his chest for far too long.

Sero froze.

His brows rose slowly. His mouth opened a little, stunned.

"...What?"

Todoroki's eyes widened, and color bloomed across his cheeks. "I—I'm sorry," he said, voice cracking. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean to spring it on you like that, I just—"

"Say it again."

The request was immediate. Not desperate, but steady. Like Sero needed to hear it. Needed it to be real.

Todoroki blinked, lips parting slightly.

He could feel the heat crawling up the back of his neck, the pounding of his pulse in his ears. But when he looked into Sero's eyes—those same eyes, filled now with something even deeper than before—he felt the fear loosen its grip.

He squeezed Sero's hands.

"I... I love yo—"

Sero kissed him before he could finish.

It was sudden, yes—but not rushed.

It was deliberate. Emotion poured into every second. A kind of kiss that asked "Are you sure?" and answered with "Yes. God, yes."

Todoroki gasped softly, stunned—but he didn't pull away. He sank into it. Let himself feel it.

This wasn't one of their usual kisses—not playful, not heated, not quick.

This kiss was slow. Reverent. It lingered.

It was Sero whispering, You're safe.
It was Todoroki answering, I know.

When they pulled apart, breathless and pink-cheeked, neither of them let go.

Sero's voice was a whisper, hushed and trembling. "Shoto... do you... do you really mean it?"

Todoroki exhaled, trying to steady his voice.

"I thought I loved Midoriya once," he admitted, gaze dropping. "And maybe I did—part of me. But it was admiration more than anything. He was everything I wanted to be—kind, strong, warm. I mistook that feeling for love. But with you..."

His voice cracked, just slightly.

"With you, it's different. You don't just make me feel safe. You remind me that I'm allowed to feel anything at all. You make me laugh. You let me be quiet when I need to. You see the things I don't say and still stay. Your presence is warm and comforting, and you were always there for me. I feel like...I'm human when I'm with you. Not Endeavor's son. Not the Number One's legacy. Just... Shoto."

He took a breath. "You make me feel free. And I don't ever want to let that go. I don't want to let you go."

He laughed, weakly. "So, yeah. I love you, Hanta Sero. I love you more than I know how to say."

He hadn't realized how fast his heart was racing until the words were out.

Until he saw the tears in Sero's eyes.

Todoroki panicked. "H-Hanta—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Sero laughed, the sound watery but genuine. "Man... I'm such a baby."

Todoroki frowned, stepping forward instinctively. "You're not."

"I just... I never thought I'd hear you say that. I didn't think..." Sero wiped at his face, still smiling. "These are happy tears, mi amor. I'm just... so happy that you love me."

Todoroki blinked, breath catching.

And then Sero pulled him into a hug, arms wrapping tightly around Todoroki's waist as he buried his face into his shoulder.

Todoroki stood frozen at first—but only for a heartbeat. Then his hands came up slowly, gently, and he held Sero like he was something sacred. Like letting go would hurt too much.

"I love you so much," Sero mumbled against his neck. "I knew I liked you from the beginning. But every time we hung out, every time we trained together, laughed, ate lunch, breathed near each other—I just kept falling. I couldn't stop. I didn't want to."

His voice cracked.

"Te amo tanto que duele..."

(I love you so much it hurts)

Todoroki didn't speak. He just held him tighter.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for loving me, Hanta."

Sero pulled back enough to smile. "Thank you for letting me."

Todoroki reached up and brushed the tears from Sero's cheek with a gentle thumb.

"I didn't know you could cry."

Sero chuckled. "Everyone can cry, mi amor. But I just really hate seeing you cry."

The nickname hit harder this time.

Todoroki flushed. "That name..."

"Hm?"

"Mi amor. You called me that before. Before we ever said any of this out loud."

Sero's face went red. "W-Well, yeah, I mean—I'm a simp, okay? You're you. I've been yours for months, dude and—"

Todoroki placed a hand over his mouth again, shaking his head with a fond, teasing smile.

"I love you... mi amor."

Sero practically melted.

His face burned red, and he immediately pulled Todoroki into another hug, whispering, "Te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo, te amo..."

( I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you)

Todoroki laughed softly, burying his face in Sero's shoulder. "Yo también te amo, Hanta."

( I love you too, Hanta)

Sero groaned dramatically. "You speaking Spanish is gonna kill me one day."

Todoroki smiled against his skin. "Simplemente te amo."

(I just love you)

Sero couldn't take it.

He started peppering his boyfriend's face with kisses—cheeks, forehead, jaw, nose—until Todoroki turned crimson and pushed at his chest, laughing breathlessly.

"Hanta!"

"I can't help it! You said it! You said you love me! Out loud! In Spanish?! You meant it! I meant it! I meant every time I said it!"

Todoroki cupped his cheek, eyes soft. "Me too."

There was a long, quiet pause between them. Just heartbeats and steady breaths.

Then, Sero looked over his shoulder and gestured to the door.

"Hey," he said gently. "Would you maybe... want to have a sleepover tonight? Share a blanket. Stay up too late talking. Or just... lay there."

Todoroki tilted his head thoughtfully.

"That sounds..." He smiled. "Perfect."

Sero smiled. "With kisses. Definitely lots of those."

Todoroki laughed, blushing. "Yes... I'd like that. My love."

Sero's eyes widened, and he looked up to the ceiling with a dramatic grin.

"Gracias, Dios. Gracias."

( Thank you God, thank you)

Todoroki stepped into his dorm, turning to look back. "You coming my love?"

Sero clutched his chest. "C-Coming!"

And when he closed the door behind them, his heart was racing—not from nerves.

But because for the first time, he knew:

This was real.

This was love.

And he wasn't alone in it.

Not anymore.

Notes:

Again, me and action scenes are not best friends! So bare with me!

Also!

They finally said it!