Shoto Todoroki sat on the couch, eyes half-lidded as the soft hum of the outside world faded into the background. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting golden stripes across the room. His gaze settled on him—his boyfriend—sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes focused on his phone. The sight of him like this, calm and unbothered, made something in Shoto’s chest feel lighter.

They’d met at a grocery store a year ago—an offhand comment about rice prices that somehow turned into something much bigger. Five months of dating later, and now weekends like this had become routine. No noise. No pressure. Just them. It was so different from the chaos of UA. Here, he didn’t have to think about training, his father, or the weight of being “Shoto Todoroki.” Here, he could just be.

His eyes lingered on his boyfriend a moment too long. He reached out, nudging his foot lightly against his boyfriend’s. When their eyes met, Shoto didn’t look away, only tapping the cushion beside him in quiet invitation. No words were needed. They never were.

Soon, his boyfriend sat next to him, their shoulders brushing, their warmth shared. Shoto tilted his head, letting it rest lightly against his. Slowly, he took his hand, fingers threading together with quiet certainty.

I'm here, he thought. No patrols. No training. No proving himself. Just this. Just them.