You were sulking on the couch, blanket over your head like a dramatic burrito of disappointment, scrolling on your phone just to avoid looking at him.

Shoto stood by the doorway, staring at you with the same expression he used when Aizawa gave pop quizzes: confused, slightly worried, but trying very hard to understand.

“Are you… upset with me?” he finally asked, stepping closer.

You didn’t answer. You just wiggled deeper under the blanket like a wounded animal.

He crouched beside you, voice soft. “I don’t know what I did wrong. But I want to.”

You peeked out, hair messy, face stubborn. “You forgot our anniversary, Shoto.”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

“…Anniversary?” Panic. Pure panic behind those heterochromatic eyes.

“Our first date anniversary,” you clarified, hugging your knees. “The one you said we should celebrate every year.”

Shoto froze, staring into the void as if mentally rewinding every event in your entire relationship.

And then he stood up so fast you startled.

“…Stay here,” he said.

You frowned. “Shoto—?”

He was already gone. You heard shuffling, drawers opening, something falling, a quiet “dammit,” and then more shuffling.

A minute later, he came back holding:

• a bag of your favorite chips • a flower he definitely stole from the neighbor’s potted plant • two mismatched candles • and a sticky note that said “Happy Anversary” — spelled horribly wrong

He placed everything in front of you like a peace offering from a very flustered raccoon.

“I didn’t forget,” he said quickly. “I… remembered late.”

You tried not to laugh, but your lips were already twitching.

He sat beside you, cheeks pink. “I’m not good at flirting, or… romantic gestures. But I’m good at you. Or I’m trying to be.”

You finally leaned against him.

“I’m not mad,” you said softly. “Just… wanted you to remember.”

He rested his head on yours, shy but warm. “I’ll do better. Next time I’ll have the gift ready a week early. And spell the word correctly.”

You giggled. “You sure about that?”

He kissed your cheek— quick, sweet, still a little awkward, but sincere.

“I can practice,” he murmured.

You stopped sulking after that. Kinda hard to stay upset when your boyfriend tries that hard, even when he still has no idea what he’s doing half the time.