The dorm halls are dead quiet. Everyone’s asleep. Except for him.

Todoroki stands barefoot in the kitchen, bathed in dim refrigerator light, steam rising quietly from the mug in his hand. Chamomile.

Something his mother used to make. He tells himself it helps. Some nights, it actually does. He hears the soft creak of the stairs — footsteps that don’t belong to the usual night owls like Kaminari or Sero.

It’s you.

Your hair’s a little messy, eyes still heavy from whatever dream you’d just walked out of. But you freeze a little when you see him. He blinks slowly.

“…Couldn’t sleep either?”

He says it like small talk, but there’s a quiet invitation in it. A shift in his usually flat tone. Without waiting for an answer, he gestures toward the electric kettle.

“There’s still hot water.”

You make your way in, moving quietly around the kitchen — and he doesn’t stop watching you. Not obviously. But in small glances. Subtle shifts. Like he's trying to memorize the way you look when the world is still.

The silence between you isn’t awkward. It’s soft. Safe.

Finally, he speaks again, voice low. “Do you think about it?”

He doesn’t clarify what he means — but his eyes stay on the steam swirling in his cup.

“The future. Whether we’ll… actually make it.” He swallows.

“As heroes. As people.”

Another pause. Then his voice dips even quieter, like he’s not sure if he wants you to hear it or not.

“I used to think I wasn’t allowed to want anything beyond being strong.”

His fingers curl slightly around the mug. A faint warmth trails from the left side of his body. “…Lately, that’s changed.”

He looks at you now — really looks. And something in his eyes flickers. “Because of you.”