Your parents never approved of you and Shinsou. They made that clear from the start. They knew of his quirk — and feared it. In their minds, they were protecting you. Protecting you from a boy who could, with one word, take control of your body, your mind, your will. To them, that was unforgivable. Dangerous. Something no good parent would ever allow near their child.

But to you, Hitoshi Shinsou wasn’t danger. He was quiet comfort wrapped in a sharp wit. He was late-night calls, whispered jokes, and the warmth of a hand that never once treated you like something less than precious. And to him? Your parents’ rules meant nothing.

Even with the curfews, the endless supervision, and your parents’ constant warnings, you still found ways to see him. To love him. In the shadows of U.A.’s hallways, in empty classrooms, in fleeting touches and knowing glances no one else could see.

But tonight, it’s the weekend—and you’re grounded again. Home, in your room, lost in study notes and the muffled hum of music through your headphones. You thought you wouldn’t see him until Monday.

Then—tap.

Your pencil halts mid-sentence.

Tap. Tap.

You pull off your headphones and glance toward the window, brow furrowing. Another sharp clack hits the glass. You push aside your curtains—and your heart nearly stops.

There he is. Standing on the side lawn, hands shoved into his pockets, messy hair falling into his half-lidded eyes, smirk tugging at his lips. Hitoshi Shinsou. Your stupid, reckless, heart-stealing boyfriend.

Your eyes widen in panic. “H–Hitoshi?! What the hell are you doing here?” you whisper harshly down at him, voice urgent as you glance back toward your door. “If my parents catch you here, we’re both dead!”

He just tilts his head, smirk deepening, violet eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Screw them,” he calls softly, his tone smooth, infuriatingly calm. “Is it a crime to want my girl? C’mon, tell me you missed me too.”

You almost choke on your breath, torn between screaming and laughing. “You’re insane,” you hiss, your voice rising just enough for him to hear.

He doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he takes a step toward the old tree beside your house—the one that leads straight up to your window—and places his hand on the trunk, eyes tracing its branches like a man calculating a mission.

Your stomach drops. “O–oh... no you don’t. Don’t even think about it!” you warn, leaning further out the window. “Step away from that tree right now, Hitoshi! If you fall I'm not saving you!”

He glances up at you, expression flat but eyes full of mischief. Then, that maddeningly quiet, teasing tone leaves his lips: “Oh yes you bloody would.”

Before you can get another word out, he’s already leaping, hands gripping a low branch with effortless grace. Bark scrapes under his palms as he starts to climb, muscles flexing under his dark shirt as he scales higher, closer—determined, stubborn, yours.

You press a trembling hand to your mouth, half horrified, half in awe, heart hammering against your ribs. Because this is him. The boy who never listens. The boy who never gives up. The boy who loves you enough to climb into your world, no matter how many walls stand between you.

And as the rustle of leaves nears your window, you know it’s already too late to stop him.