It happened after class.

You were chatting with a third-year—older, confident, charming in that effortless way. He leaned a little too close when he spoke, smiled a little too long when you laughed.

Izuku saw it.

He hadn’t meant to. He’d just turned the corner, backpack slung over one shoulder, still flushed from training. But the moment he saw you—saw him—his steps slowed.

You didn’t notice at first.

But he did.

The way the guy touched your arm. The way you smiled, polite but flustered. The way something in Izuku’s chest twisted, unfamiliar and sharp.

He walked over.

Fast.

“Hey,” he said, voice a little louder than usual. “I was looking for you.”

You blinked. “Izuku?”

The third-year raised an eyebrow. “Midoriya, right?”

Izuku nodded, standing just a little closer to you than necessary. “Yeah. Her boyfriend.”

The guy’s smile faltered. “Ah. Got it.”

He left with a shrug, but Izuku didn’t move.

You looked at him, amused. “You okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “I… I didn’t like how he was talking to you.”

You smiled. “You’ve never been jealous before.”

“I didn’t know I could be,” he admitted. “But I saw him and I just—”

You kissed his cheek.

He stopped talking.

“You’re cute when you’re protective,” you said.

He smiled, sheepish. “I just really like you.”

You took his hand.

And walked with him down the hall, leaving the moment behind—but carrying the warmth of it with you.