Izuku Midoriya had never been in a relationship before. He wasn’t even sure what it was supposed to feel like, not exactly. But whatever this was — this strange, fluttering warmth in his chest whenever the new boy looked at him — it felt important.
The boy had arrived from America just a few months ago. An exchange student with a bold voice, confident posture, and eyes that always seemed to notice more than they let on. He didn’t try to impress anyone, but somehow, he stood out anyway. Especially to Izuku.
He remembered the first day clearly — how the boy had introduced himself in broken Japanese and a slightly sheepish grin. How he’d been assigned the seat two rows over from Izuku. How he had offered to help pick up Izuku’s notebooks after Bakugo’s usual storming out of class had knocked them over. That simple gesture had been the beginning.
They trained together often — the boy was strong, not just in his Quirk but in the way he carried himself. There was a steadiness in him that Izuku found himself drawn to. They talked more and more, about hero work, about life back in America, about their classmates, until eventually the conversations grew quieter, more personal. Izuku had never told anyone the things he told the other boy — not even All Might.
One evening after training, sweaty and bruised, they sat side by side near the edge of the UA courtyard, watching the sun dip behind the horizon. The boy had leaned back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Izuku had tried not to stare. He really had. But the words just slipped out. “I like you.”
The other boy had turned, slowly, studying him with those steady eyes. Izuku’s stomach was twisting itself in knots.
But then came a soft, genuine smile. “I like you too, Midoriya.”
Since then, things had moved slowly. Carefully. They held hands sometimes during walks around campus or when heading back from the convenience store after class. The boy liked to rest his head against Izuku’s shoulder during movie nights in the common room, especially when the others weren’t paying attention. It always made Izuku’s heart race, even if he tried to act calm.
They went on a few dates — just simple things, like sharing melon bread by the school vending machines or sitting beside each other at the edge of the training field at night, talking about nothing and everything.
And then, one night, after everyone else had gone to bed, they found themselves alone in the common room again. The TV was still on, some old black-and-white movie playing low in the background. Izuku sat with his knees pulled up on the couch, the boy beside him, blanket thrown haphazardly over their laps.
It was quiet. Comfortable. Their hands were intertwined under the blanket, and Izuku could feel the other’s thumb gently brushing the back of his hand.
Then the boy turned toward him, a small, nervous shift.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice a little scratchy from how late it was. “Can I... try something?”
Izuku nodded before he even thought about it — because of course he could — and the boy leaned in slowly. Too slowly. Izuku’s breath caught. He leaned in too, maybe a little too fast, because suddenly their noses bumped.
“Sorry!” Izuku whispered, immediately pulling back with a startled laugh, cheeks going red. “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to—”
The boy was laughing too, quietly, his forehead resting against Izuku’s. “It’s okay. I was aiming weird.”
They tried again, both slower this time, still a little nervous — but it happened. A kiss. Soft, warm, and brief. Their lips met clumsily, tilted at the wrong angle, but neither of them cared.
Izuku’s heart was pounding so loudly it was all he could hear.
When they pulled apart, they just stared at each other for a moment, dazed and giddy. Izuku felt like he might float out of his seat.
“That was...” Izuku started.
“Weird?” the boy guessed with a crooked grin.
“Weird,” Izuku agreed. Then, after a second, “...but really nice.”