It was around one in the morning. The moon hung full and bright, framed by scattered stars that burned quietly against the dark sky. Thin clouds drifted lazily overhead, the black softened by deep streaks of blue. Now and then, a distant plane cut across the atmosphere, a faint blinking light moving steadily through the night.

It was late. Too late, maybe.

Shouta pushed open the door to the apartment he shared with Hizashi. During most of the year, they stayed at the teacher dorms at U.A. for convenience. But winter had a way of drawing them back here - to something quieter, more familiar, warmer in a way the dorms never quite were.

Tonight, he wasn’t alone.

You stood just behind him as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut with a muted sound. Shouta had always had a soft spot for teenagers - especially the ones who tried too hard to pretend they didn’t need help. He hadn’t felt right leaving you on your own, so he’d offered you the couch for the night without much ceremony.

He hadn’t told Hizashi. Not out of malice - just… spontaneity. Communication could wait. The image of Hizashi walking into the apartment to find an unexpected guest sitting among the roaming cats was almost amusing enough to justify the surprise.

The apartment was modest, one bedroom, lived-in and warm. He guided you to the couch, adjusting a stack of folded blankets on the armrest so they were within reach. The remote sat on the coffee table. The lights were dimmed, soft enough not to strain tired eyes.

Shouta didn’t patrol much anymore. After the wars, things had shifted. With one eye and a prosthetic leg, he’d stepped back from regular hero work - not because he couldn’t manage, but because he no longer needed to push himself the same way. Teaching took priority. Recovery did too. He wasn’t as perpetually exhausted as he once had been.

Instead of retreating to the bedroom, he lowered himself into the armchair across from you. Not hovering. Just present.

He settled in quietly, waiting for Hizashi to return home, the apartment filled with nothing but the faint hum of the heater and the soft, steady calm of winter night.