Shoto Todoroki didn’t consider himself someone who noticed people—not the way others seemed to.

But this boy—him—he didn’t fit into any category.

The new American exchange student had arrived mid-semester like a gust of spring wind. He entered a room like he belonged there. His voice had a soft rhythm when he spoke Japanese, like he was feeling out the words.

He remembered the first time the boy had sat next to him. They were watching a movie in the common room—something explosive and American, ironically—and while most of the class had grouped together, Shoto had taken his usual end of the couch. The boy had looked around, not quite sure where to go, then caught Shoto’s gaze.

“Hey,” he’d said, nodding politely, one hand in his pocket. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

Shoto had simply nodded. He hadn’t expected him to lean back, cross one ankle over the other, and offer him popcorn halfway through the movie.

After that, it became a habit.

Shoto began to look for him—without thinking. If he entered a room, his eyes scanned automatically until they found him. During class, he paid attention to how the boy fidgeted when he was confused, how his brow creased when translating complex kanji. During combat training, he took mental notes on how he moved.

He even started listening for his voice in the mornings, as if that tone meant the day had officially begun.

Shoto didn’t talk much. Not usually. But he found himself offering small comments, asking the boy questions. Offering quiet corrections when he stumbled over grammar. There were moments—quiet, scattered—where the boy would smile at him and thank him so earnestly that Shoto felt a strange pressure in his chest.

He didn’t know what it was.

Until tonight.

The common room was buzzing. Izuku, Ochako, Iida, Mina, Momo, Kirishima—half the class was sprawled on beanbags or curled up on couches.

Shoto sat in his usual corner, sipping tea. He felt... restless. As if something important was nearby but not quite here yet.

“So,” Mina started. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

“What?” Iida blinked, adjusting his glasses.

“Todoroki and his crush,” she said with a grin.

Shoto’s expression didn’t change. But he looked up.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, deadpan.

“Dude,” Kirishima said, leaning forward. “The American guy. You’ve been acting different ever since he showed up.”

“I haven’t,” Shoto replied, though there was a slight crease between his brows now.

“Yes, you have,” Ochako chimed in. “You let him sit next to you. You talk to him.”

“I talk to everyone.”

“Do you offer grammar tips to me?” Mina shot back.

“I—” He paused. “That’s different.”

Izuku leaned in then, calm but kind. “Todoroki, it’s okay. Crushes are normal. I think... I think maybe you just didn’t realize what you were feeling.”

Shoto turned his gaze inward, fingers tightening slightly around his cup.

Crush. The word echoed.

He thought of how the boy had smiled that morning in the hallway, squinting against the sun as he asked Shoto about the next training rotation. He thought about the way his laughter lingered longer in the air than anyone else’s. How Shoto always seemed to breathe easier when he was near.

A warmth bloomed in his chest, slow and startling. Something tender and a little terrifying.

“I didn’t know,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t know I... could like boys.“

“Hey,” Izuku said again, gentle. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now. But it’s okay if that’s what it is.”

Shoto nodded faintly. He felt disoriented, like the room had shifted subtly around him.

And then the door opened.

A breeze rolled in as he stepped inside, still wearing his gym jacket, earbuds tucked into the collar. His hair was a little damp—he’d probably just showered after late-night training. He glanced around, gave a bright smile, and waved.

“Hey. Did I miss the movie?”

“Yeah,” Kirishima grinned, “but you’re just in time for the drama.”

Before Shoto could react, Mina jumped up. “Hey, American boy—do you think Todoroki’s cute?”