It was past midnight.

The dorms were silent, the kind of silence that feels heavy. You couldn’t sleep. Something about the day had left you restless—too many thoughts, too many feelings, none of them easy to name. You sat by your window, legs curled beneath you, watching the moonlight spill across the floor.

Then came the knock.

Soft. Hesitant.

You turned, startled. And there he was.

Shoto Todoroki stood outside your window, his breath visible in the cold, his hands tucked into his hoodie sleeves. You opened it slowly, confused.

"Shoto?"

He looked up at you, eyes calm but unreadable.

"I couldn’t sleep either."

You blinked.

"So you came to my window?"

He nodded.

"I didn’t want to be alone."

You hesitated, then stepped aside.

He climbed in quietly, movements careful. He didn’t say much. Just sat beside you on the floor, back against the wall, gaze fixed on the stars.

Minutes passed.

Then he spoke.

"When I was younger, I used to stare out windows and wonder what it felt like to be safe."

You turned to him.

"And now?"

He looked at you.

"Now I think it feels like this."

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, and he didn’t move away.

And for the rest of the night, you watched the stars together—two quiet souls finding warmth in the cold.