Shoto sat cross-legged at the low table in his dorm room, his textbook open in front of him but his eyes slightly glazed over. He’d read the same sentence about Quirk evolution three times, but none of it was sinking in. Not because it was too difficult—he just couldn’t focus. His fingers absentmindedly twisted the corner of a page as his mind wandered to something, or rather someone, far more interesting than the assigned reading.

His boyfriend. His first boyfriend.

The word still felt heavy and new in his chest, like a secret he hadn’t quite come to terms with speaking aloud yet. The relationship had started quietly—he preferred it that way. Only his mother, Fuyumi, and Natsuo knew. His sister had practically squealed when she found out, clapping her hands like she’d won some invisible bet. Natsuo had just grinned and clapped him on the back so hard it nearly sent him off balance. His mom, as always, was gentle and warm, saying she was proud of him for finding someone to trust.

He hadn’t meant to tell them. It slipped out during a phone call with his mom, when she asked if he was eating properly and he’d said, “He makes sure I do,” before realizing what he’d said. He could still hear Fuyumi in the background, gasping softly.

The door clicked open.

Shoto looked up, startled from his thoughts, and felt the tension in his shoulders melt at the sight of him—the only person who could make this strange dorm room feel like a home.

"Hey," the other boy said, closing the door behind him. He didn’t need an invitation; he walked over to the futon and dropped down beside Shoto at the table, their knees brushing lightly. Shoto glanced down at the contact but didn’t move away. He never did, not with him.

"Hi," Shoto replied softly, voice dipping lower than usual. He always found his tone did that around him—like his whole body exhaled just by having him near.

"You look like you’re about to fall asleep on that textbook."

Shoto gave the faintest smile, lips twitching at the corners. “I’m trying to study.” He turned the page even though he hadn’t absorbed the last one. “It’s just... harder to focus lately.” He didn’t say why. He didn’t need to. His boyfriend knew.

There was a pause, and then a hand slid over Shoto’s under the table, fingers weaving through his gently. Shoto let it happen. More than that—he leaned into it.