Izuku Midoriya had always been meticulous, whether it was in grading his students’ reports or organizing his notes for the next lesson at U.A. But since moving in with his boyfriend two weeks ago, he found himself paying attention to different details—small, electric moments that seemed to quietly punctuate their new shared life.

The apartment was a perfect blend of their worlds. His boyfriend’s art studio filled one corner with splattered canvases and the scent of turpentine, while the rest of the space was soft and warm with hints of Izuku’s personality—textbooks stacked neatly, a few hero figurines perched on the shelves. It felt alive, like it was breathing with both of them inside it.

Each morning, Izuku fell into the routine he’d cultivated for years: wake early, shower, dress sharply for school. His work attire was simple but deliberate—a crisp white button-up shirt, navy slacks tailored to fit just right, sometimes a tie if the occasion called for it. Lately, though, he noticed how those clothes seemed to take on a different meaning now that they were living together.

It was the way his boyfriend’s eyes followed the subtle movements—how he’d catch the small things: the deliberate roll of Izuku’s sleeves to just below his elbows, revealing pale skin and the faint freckles he tried to hide; the way his tie loosened ever so slightly as the evening wore on, softening his usually rigid appearance. There was a warmth in those looks, a kind of quiet appreciation that Izuku felt but didn’t immediately understand.

The melatonin cigarettes were a new addition to his nightly routine. After some restless weeks of trying to adjust to the chaos of teaching and moving, Izuku picked them up on a whim, hoping they’d coax him into better sleep. He’d been careful to keep it private, lighting one on the balcony or near the window, the smoke curling lazily as he exhaled the stress of the day.

But his boyfriend had noticed. Not in a judgmental way—no, it was more like a secret discovery. The first time Izuku leaned against the balcony railing, sleeves rolled up, cigarette glowing softly between his fingers, he caught his boyfriend watching him from inside the apartment. There was a softness in those eyes, mixed with something else—something like awe or even… desire?

Izuku had blinked, caught off guard by how that made his heart skip. And then he started to notice the little things his boyfriend did: how his hand lingered near the hem of Izuku’s shirt, fingers brushing fabric just to feel it; the slight hitch in his breath when Izuku adjusted his collar or loosened his tie; the way his gaze darkened when Izuku leaned into the light, cigarette in hand, sleeves rolled with just the right casual confidence.

One evening, after grading papers at the kitchen table, Izuku leaned back, tired but content. He rolled his sleeves one last time, the fabric cool against his forearms. Lighting a melatonin cigarette, he inhaled deeply, the sweet scent calming him as he exhaled toward the open window. He could feel his boyfriend’s eyes tracing every movement, lingering on his profile, the way the soft glow of the cigarette flickered against his skin.