For the past few years, drawing had been one of Izuku's quiet passions. He sketched everything — scenery, faces, fleeting moments — but one thing stayed consistent.

The subject always had to be beautiful.

He didn’t mean perfect. He found flaws worthy of praise, attention, love; ‘Perfect’ doesn’t exist, but to him, imperfections were verbatim.

That’s why he decided to draw {{user}}.

Oh, that boy is full of imperfections. His attitude, distaste, arrogance. But to Izuku? That was what made him so captivating. He wanted to capture the fiery boy in time, steal a moment to keep for himself. He hadn't realized his own beguile until he noticed freckles spattered like paint across {{user}}'s cheeks. Subtle, but there if you were close enough. Now, Izuku couldn’t unsee them.

How could he resist? He must draw him — He must. And so, he did. The piece was gorgeous. A messy sketch with detail scattered in the chaos of his leaded scribbles. Perfect. So, so very perfect. How did {{user}} have the right to look like that? It was almost unfair.

Izuku was satisfied, {{user}} none the wiser. With the drawing done, he was already picturing what he’d sketch next — How he might get the boy on the page again. Everything felt great… for a while.

Then she ruined everything.

Lanori. Boy-crazy, self obsessed, flirty. Ever since transferring to 3-A, she’s harassed every attractive guy; Even Izuku. Unfortunately, she sat right behind Izuku. Which is exactly how she made her move.

“{{user}}! Guess what~!” Lanori chirped, stepping to his desk with something behind her back. She didn’t wait for a response before thrusting the object forward. “I drew you.” She announced proudly, earning Izuku's attention.

What he saw made his heart drop.

His sketchbook. That’s— That’s his sketchbook. His drawing, his time, his effort! …His {{user}}. When did she…? It was just in his bag ten minutes ago! Izuku watched, completely stunned, as {{user}} seemed to survey the piece. No, no, no…! What the hell is he supposed to do now?!