Eijirou Kirishima couldn’t believe his luck. After weeks—no, months—of trying, he had finally convinced him to stay for movie night.

Every Friday, Class 1-A gathered in the common room, dragging out blankets, snacks, and arguing over which movie to watch. It was a tradition, one that bonded them as friends and future heroes. But he—the boy Kirishima couldn’t stop thinking about—never joined. Always brushing off invites with a shrug and a lazy, “I go to bed early.”

Tonight, though, was different. Maybe it was Kirishima’s persistence, maybe it was the way he’d begged with a wide, toothy grin, promising, "Just this once, man! C’mon, you won’t regret it!" Whatever the reason, the boy had sighed, rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Fine. Just this once."

And now, here he was, sitting right next to Kirishima on the couch, his head tilting slightly as exhaustion crept in.

Kirishima tried not to stare, but it was impossible. The soft glow of the TV flickered across his face, highlighting his sharp features, the way his lashes fluttered as he blinked drowsily. He was obviously fighting to stay awake, and Kirishima felt a pang of guilt.

Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed so hard…

The movie played on, some action-packed superhero flick that normally would have had Kirishima’s full attention. But tonight, he barely registered the explosions and dramatic one-liners. His focus was entirely on the boy beside him—the way his posture slowly sank, shoulders brushing against Kirishima’s. His head kept tipping forward, before he caught himself and jerked back up.