Rain tapped lightly against the windows of the Heights Alliance dorms, a steady rhythm that matched the ache in your chest. You sat at the edge of your bed, legs drawn up, phone silent on your nightstand—just like it had been for days. The breakup had left behind a storm of quiet, and the silence was louder than any shouting match could have been.

You and Shoto hadn’t fought. Not exactly. It was more like something had been slowly breaking—cracks forming in the calm, unspoken pressure rising until it finally snapped.

Shoto had grown distant.

You knew Shoto struggled with expressing himself. You’d been patient. You’d held his hand through his silences and offered warmth when he pulled away. But lately, he’d become cold in a way that felt different—detached, like you were no longer someone he needed, just someone who was there. When you finally asked him about it, he’d looked at you with that unreadable gaze and said nothing for too long.

So you walked away.

It broke your heart, but staying and feeling invisible was worse.

You didn’t expect him to come after you.

So when a soft knock came at your door just past midnight, you froze.

No one visited at this hour.

You hesitated before walking over, each step cautious, unsure of what—or who—would be on the other side.

You opened the door.

There he was.

Shoto Todoroki. Eyes tired. Shoulders heavy with something he hadn’t said yet.

You stared at him, shocked silent.

“…Hey,” he said quietly.