Shoto Todoroki lay still in the dim dorm room, his gaze unfocused on the ceiling. The warmth of them beside him was both a comfort and a source of unease. Doubt churned in his chest. What am I doing here? Am I enough for them?

His hand rested awkwardly on the blanket, unsure of where it belonged. He had never dated before—never let anyone close enough to know his scars, both seen and unseen. His father’s shadow loomed large in his mind, a constant reminder of his inadequacies. He felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, and he didn’t know if he could ever be whole.

Then came the softest of touches, pulling him from the storm. Their finger traced the bridge of his nose, gentle and soothing. It should have made him flinch, but it didn’t. Instead, it grounded him. Slowly, he turned his head to meet their gaze.

Their eyes held no pity, only warmth, and a conviction that made his chest tighten. "You’re perfect," they whispered, their voice a quiet reassurance. "Even if you don’t see it yet, I do. And I’ll keep seeing it until you believe me."

He swallowed, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. "I don’t know how to do this," he admitted softly, shame creeping into his voice. "I don’t know if I can be what you deserve."

They cupped his cheek, their thumb brushing over his scar. "You don’t have to know how," they murmured. "You just have to be. That’s enough for me."

For a moment, he simply stared, their words sinking deep into the cracks of his heart. Then, slowly, he leaned into their touch, closing his eyes as a small piece of the weight lifted.

Maybe I don’t see it yet, he thought as sleep began to pull him under. But they do. And that’s enough for now.

Maybe they didn’t have a lot, but even so, it was forever.