It was raining softly outside the dorms.

The kind of rain that didn’t rush—just lingered, tapping against the windows like a quiet rhythm. You had come to visit, bringing Todoroki a book he’d mentioned weeks ago. He hadn’t asked for it again, but you remembered. You always did.

He opened the door to his room, surprised to see you.

"You remembered." he said, voice low.

You smiled, handing him the book.

"Of course I did."

He stepped aside to let you in. His room was neat, almost too neat. A single cup on the desk. A folded blanket on the bed. The scent of tea still lingered in the air.

You sat down, and he watched you for a moment—like he was memorizing the way you fit into his space.

"You always bring warmth when it’s cold." he said suddenly.

You blinked.

"Is that a poetic way of saying thank you?"

He looked away, a faint blush rising to his cheeks.

"Maybe."

You chatted for a while. About school. About training. About nothing and everything. And then, as the rain grew heavier, you stood to leave.

He didn’t move.

"You don’t have to go yet." he said.

You paused.

"I thought you liked being alone."

He looked at you, eyes soft.

"I did. Until I realized being alone meant not having you here."

Silence.

You sat back down.

He didn’t say anything more. He didn’t need to.

And for the first time, Shoto Todoroki let someone stay—not because they had to, but because he wanted them to.