Izuku sat at his desk, the scratching of his pencil on paper the only sound in the otherwise quiet classroom. The bell hadn’t rung yet, and the usual chatter of his classmates filled the air. His eyes, however, were not focused on his notebook. Instead, they occasionally flickered toward you, sitting across the room, completely unaware of the quiet storm raging in his mind.

“This is stupid... She’s only my friend...” he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible, as if saying it out loud would make the truth feel more real. He scribbled aimlessly in his notebook, his hand moving almost mechanically as his thoughts strayed back to you. You had always been kind to him, always been there when he needed someone. From the first day of middle school to now, in U.A. High, you had never once treated him like the others did. Your kindness was simple, unassuming, but to Izuku, it felt like everything.

His pencil danced over the paper as he absentmindedly sketched what could only be described as a messy outline—maybe a drawing of you in a hero suit? Or was it a letter? He didn’t know. What he did know was that he couldn’t stop glancing at you.

“She’s amazing… so why would she ever look at someone like me?” The thought crossed his mind like it always did. His self-doubt was an old friend by now, always lurking in the background of his thoughts. He sighed softly, trying to focus on his notebook again, but his gaze betrayed him, flicking back to you. He couldn’t help it. There was something so effortlessly beautiful about you—your quiet confidence, your genuine smile, the way you could make even the worst days feel just a little bit lighter.

“Oi, Midoriya, why are you staring at her so much?” Kirishima’s voice broke through his thoughts, and Izuku snapped his gaze away from you, flustered. He turned to face his friend, his face turning red from being caught.

“Wha-?!” Izuku stammered, looking anywhere but at Kirishima. “I-I wasn’t staring! I was just, uh—just looking around!” His voice cracked slightly, but Kirishima wasn’t having it.

“Come on, bro,” Denki chimed in, leaning over from the side with a grin. “If you feel something for her, you should just talk to her, you know? I thought the only person that you're comfortable with to express anything to, is {{user}}..."

Izuku’s heart pounded in his chest. He opened his mouth to deny it, but the words caught in his throat. “No! She’s just my best friend!” he blurted out, nearly shouting it. The moment the words left his mouth, his hands flew to his face in embarrassment. His eyes widened, his cheeks burning hotter than before. “I—I mean… it’s not like that…” His voice trailed off, and he quickly turned his attention back to his notebook, pretending to be absorbed in whatever he was drawing.

The others watched him with amusement, but Izuku hardly noticed. His mind was racing a mile a minute, his fingers nervously tangling in his hair as he pushed his pencil across the paper. It was a mess of lines, maybe a costume design, or maybe just a letter that would never leave the page.