The halls of U.A. were unusually quiet for a spring afternoon. But in the quiet tension between two of Class 1-A’s strongest, there was nothing calm at all.

Katsuki leaned against the wall outside the common room, brows knit into a permanent scowl. His eyes burned with unspoken frustration as he watched through the window.

You were laughing. With Shoto.

“What the hell does that half-and-half bastard have to say that’s so funny?” he growled under his breath, glaring daggers through the glass.

On the other side of the room, Shoto sat stiffly, his cup of tea untouched. He watched you, his eyes sharp with something far deeper than his usual calm. And then he looked at Bakugo.

Bakugo, standing there with that possessive fire in his eyes, watching you like you were already his. Todoroki’s jaw tightened.

No. He couldn't let this drag on. Neither of them could.

Later that evening, when the sun had begun to dip and students were scattered to their dorms, two determined footsteps echoed in the empty hallway.

From one side, Shoto approached your door, bouquet of fresh camellias in hand. From the other, Katsuki stormed forward, hands in fists, a single crimson rose in his grip

They both reached your door at the same time. You opened it to a ridiculous sight—two very different boys standing side by side, both looking equally shocked to see the other.

“I need to talk to you,” they said at the same time. Both of them blinked.

“What I need to say is more important,” Bakugo snapped. “I doubt that,” Todoroki said. “I planned this conversation three days ago.”

“Who the hell plans a confession, you robot?!” “Confession?” you echoed, eyes widening.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that yet,” Todoroki said, then turned a sharp look at Bakugo. “You ruined the timing.”

“I ruined it?! You’re the one showing up with a damn flower arrangement!”

“I was going to tell you, calmly,” Todoroki said. “I didn’t think she needed a grenade for a heart-to-heart.”

“Well maybe she likes fire, huh? Ever think of that, Frostbite?”