It starts with your laugh.

Not the polite kind. The real one—the one you try to hide behind your hand when Hizashi says something so stupid it catches even Aizawa off guard. It cracks through the usual tension in the room like sunlight under a door.

Oboro hears it, and suddenly the rest of the world dims.

You’re not like the others. You’re sharp, always three steps ahead, always with your arms full of books or training notes or someone else’s forgotten lunch. You walk like you’ve got a destination even if you’re just heading to the vending machine.

And your eyes—bright but heavy, like they’ve seen more than you let on.

Sometimes, Oboro watches you from behind the comfort of his desk. He rests his head on folded arms and lets his gaze drift, catching you mid-conversation with someone else. You always smile different depending on who you’re talking to—gentle with Aizawa, teasing with Hizashi, firm but kind with the underclassmen.

But when you smile at him…

Actually, do you ever smile at him?

He’s not sure. Not in the way he wants, anyway.

⸻

It’s during Hero Ethics when it happens.

You’re sitting beside him for once, your usual seat taken. He’s pretending to take notes, but he’s mostly just scribbling stars and clouds in the corner of his page. He can feel the warmth of your presence, like sunlight through a window.

You lean over to borrow a pen—yours exploded earlier during a sparring match.

“Thanks,” you whisper, fingers brushing his.

He forgets how to breathe for a second.

And then—casually, without looking—you murmur, “You draw clouds when you’re thinking.”

He freezes.

You noticed?

Your voice is quiet, not teasing. Just… observant. Like you’d been watching him the same way he watches you.

He opens his mouth, closes it, then finally says, “Well, yeah. Thinking’s hard. Clouds help.”

That earns him a real smile. Not a smirk, not a polite nod. A real one, just for him.

He feels like he could float.