Shoto isn’t sure why he’s doing this.

It’s already past ten, the air biting cold against his skin, and if Aizawa decides to check the dorms right now, he’s done for. But none of that matters as his footsteps carry him toward the train station—where he knows you’ll be.

He doesn’t understand it. Maybe it’s because he saw your message in the class group chat—how you’d just come back from your hometown and were panicking about getting caught sneaking out. Before he could even think, he was already on his way.

The others always tease him about having feelings for you, but he doesn’t bother denying or confirming it. Feelings are complicated. All he knows is that he couldn’t just sit there while you were out here, cold and nervous.

When you sneeze, Shoto stops in front of you without a word. He unwraps his scarf, the warmth of it still holding his body heat, and gently loops it around your neck.

“Here,” he says quietly, avoiding your eyes. “You’ll catch a cold.”