TODOROKI SHOTO

The week had been interminable.

Shoto had thrown himself into work with single-minded focus-three major villain takedowns, two inter-agency coordination meetings that ran late into the evening, a mountain of paperwork that should have kept his mind occupied. It hadn't. Every quiet moment found his thoughts drifting back to Yokohama, to that coffee shop with its warm lighting and comfortable booths, to the weight of Midoriya sleeping against his shoulder.

To the way his chest had felt tight watching Midoriya on that live stream, coordinating his team with brilliant precision while taking hits that made Shoto's temperature fluctuate wildly.

He'd caught himself checking his phone obsessively, watching for updates in their group chat, pulling up footage of Midoriya's patrols with a frequency that went well beyond professional interest. The Musutafu news feeds had become a regular fixture on his tablet during downtime, and he'd watched three separate villain takedowns live, his heart in his throat every time Midoriya took a hit.

The relief when each fight ended successfully had been visceral. Overwhelming.

Inappropriate for what should have been casual friendship.

Shoto had tried to rationalize it. They were close friends. It was natural to worry. Natural to want to see him again. Natural to count down the days until this training session with an anticipation that felt almost painful in its intensity.

Except it didn't feel natural. It felt like something else entirely. Something that made his skin feel too tight and his thoughts scatter in directions he'd spent years carefully avoiding.

The train ride to Musutafu had been shared in tense silence with Bakugo. They'd run into each other at the station-pure coincidence, though Bakugo's scowl suggested he found it as uncomfortable as Shoto did. They'd ended up in the same car, sitting across from each other, both pretending to look at their phones while hyperaware of the other's presence.

"You're early," Bakugo had said finally, his voice flat.

"So are you."

Bakugo's jaw had tightened, and he'd looked away, staring out the window with an intensity that suggested he was trying very hard not to think about something.

Shoto understood the feeling.

They'd walked from the station together in continued silence, the tension between them thick and uncomfortable. Not hostile-they'd moved past that years ago-but charged with something neither of them wanted to name.

Midoriya's agency was impressive-a sleek building in a good district, clearly well-funded and professionally run. The lobby was busy with staff and sidekicks, everyone moving with purpose and efficiency. A few people recognized them immediately, eyes widening with that familiar mix of excitement and nervousness that came with encountering top-ranked heroes.

"Shoto! Bakugo!" the receptionist said, her professional smile firmly in place despite her obvious excitement. "Deku mentioned you'd be coming in today. He's in the training facility-third floor, east wing. I can have someone escort you-"

"We'll find it," Bakugo said shortly, already moving toward the elevators.

Shoto followed, his heart beating faster than it should have been. His palms felt warm. Seven days shouldn't have felt this long. Shouldn't have felt like deprivation.

The third floor was quieter, most of the space dedicated to training rooms and equipment storage. They followed the sound of voices down a corridor, Shoto's anticipation building with each step.

They rounded the corner into the training facility's observation area together, and both of them stopped.

Midoriya was there, standing near the equipment racks, still in his hero costume. His hair was slightly mussed from recent activity, cheeks flushed with exertion, a light sheen of sweat on his skin that caught the overhead lights. He looked good-better than good. He looked like everything Shoto had been thinking about for seven days straight, like the answer to a question he hadn't known he was asking.

He wasn't alone.

A man stood close to him-too close-leaning against the equipment rack with calculated casualness. He was attractive in a conventional way: tall, well-built, with the kind of easy confidence that came from knowing his own appeal. Dark hair, strong jawline, the kind of smile that probably worked on most people. One of Midoriya's sidekicks, based on the agency uniform.

And he was in Midoriya's space. Deliberately, obviously in his space.

"-really impressive out there today," the man was saying, his voice warm and intimate in a way that made something hot spike through Shoto's chest. "The way you handled that quirk interaction? I've never seen anything like it. The precision, the timing-it was incredible to watch."

Midoriya ducked his head, a shy smile crossing his face that made Shoto's hands clench involuntarily. "Oh, it wasn't that special. Just basic analysis and quirk theory application. Anyone with enough study could-"

"No, not anyone." The man-Hayato, Shoto's mind supplied from some half-remembered briefing about Midoriya's team-shifted closer, and Shoto felt ice creep across his right side without his conscious decision. "It was special. You're special. I've worked with a lot of heroes, and none of them have your instincts."

His hand came up, fingers brushing Midoriya's shoulder in a gesture that was definitely not professional, definitely not casual. The touch lingered, sliding down to Midoriya's arm, and Shoto felt his temperature drop precipitously.

This man was touching Midoriya.

This man was looking at Midoriya like he wanted to do more than just have a conversation.

"The way you move," Hayato continued, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. His hand was still on Midoriya's arm, thumb stroking in a way that made Shoto's vision narrow. "The way you think three steps ahead-it's like watching art. You're incredible, Deku. And I don't just mean as a hero."

Midoriya's blush deepened, spreading down his neck in a way that Shoto had noticed before, had catalogued without meaning to. "That's-you're exaggerating. I just-"

"I'm not." Hayato's smile widened, his body language open and interested in a way that was unmistakable. "You're inspiring. There's this new restaurant that opened in the district-really good reviews. Maybe we could check it out sometime? Just the two of us? Get to know each other better outside of work?"

Just the two of us.

A date. Hayato was asking Midoriya on a date.

Shoto felt the realization like a physical blow, like ice and fire colliding in his chest. His analytical mind catalogued the details with ruthless precision even as something primitive and possessive roared to life: Hayato's body language, open and leaning in. His hand on Midoriya's arm, possessive and intimate. His eyes tracking Midoriya's face, lingering on his mouth.

This was a seduction.

And beside him, Shoto felt Bakugo go absolutely still.

Not the stillness of calm. The stillness of a bomb about to detonate.

Shoto glanced at him and saw Bakugo's expression-rage, pure and visceral, his red eyes fixed on Hayato's hand where it rested on Midoriya's arm. His hands were clenched into fists, small pops of nitroglycerin sparking between his fingers.

They both saw it at the same time.

The flirtation. The seduction. The claim this man was trying to stake.

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second-a moment of perfect, terrible understanding.

Then Bakugo moved.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Katsuki didn't think. Didn't plan. Didn't do anything except react to the sight of some extra's hand on Deku's arm, to the way that bastard was looking at him like he had any right, like Deku was available, like-

He crossed the distance in three strides, his hand closing around Deku's wrist and pulling him away from Hayato with enough force to make Deku stumble.

Straight into Katsuki's chest.

Deku made a small sound of surprise, his hands coming up to brace against Katsuki's shoulders, and Katsuki's arm came around his waist automatically, holding him close. Possessive. Protective.

Mine.

The thought was immediate and visceral and completely irrational.

"Kacchan?" Deku's voice was confused, muffled against Katsuki's chest. "What-"

"The fuck do you think you're doing?" Katsuki's voice came out as a growl, his eyes fixed on Hayato with murderous intent. Small explosions popped in his free palm, the threat unmistakable.

Hayato had taken a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture, but his expression was more calculating than afraid. "Just talking to Deku. We were having a conversation."

"That wasn't a conversation." Katsuki's arm tightened around Deku's waist, and he felt Deku's warmth against him, felt the way Deku's body fit perfectly against his. "That was you putting your hands where they don't belong."

"Kacchan, what are you-" Deku tried to pull back, but Katsuki didn't let go. Couldn't let go.

"He was flirting with you," Katsuki said, his voice tight. "Asking you on a date. Or did you miss that part?"

Deku went still against him, and Katsuki felt the moment the realization hit. Felt Deku's sharp intake of breath, the way his body tensed.

"Oh," Deku said, his voice small. "I didn't-I thought he was just being friendly."

Of course he hadn't noticed. Deku never noticed when people were interested in him. Never saw the way people looked at him, wanted him.

Never saw the way Katsuki looked at him.

"He wasn't being friendly," Shoto's voice cut in, cold and sharp. Katsuki had almost forgotten he was there, but now he turned and saw Half-and-Half standing a few feet away, frost spreading across the floor on his right side. His heterochromatic eyes were fixed on Hayato with an intensity that matched Katsuki's own rage.

Hayato's expression shifted, something like resignation crossing his face. "Look, I didn't mean any offense. I just thought-"

"You thought wrong," Katsuki said flatly. "Back off."

Hayato's eyes moved between them-Katsuki holding Deku against his chest, Shoto radiating cold fury-and something like understanding crossed his face. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Got it. Message received." He looked at Deku, his expression softening. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Deku. That wasn't my intention."

"It's okay," Deku said quickly, his voice muffled against Katsuki's chest. "I just-I'm not really interested in dating right now. I'm too busy with hero work."

Hayato nodded, his smile rueful. "Fair enough. I'll see you around."

He left, and the moment he was gone, Deku pulled back from Katsuki's chest. His face was flushed, his expression a mix of embarrassment and confusion.

"I can't believe I didn't notice," he said, his hands coming up to cover his face. "I thought he was just being nice. I didn't realize he was-"

"You never realize," Katsuki said, his voice rougher than intended. He'd released Deku when he pulled back, but his hands felt empty now. Wrong.

"Midoriya is oblivious to romantic interest," Shoto said, his voice carefully controlled but his eyes still tracking Deku with that same intensity. "It's not surprising."

Deku lowered his hands, his blush deepening. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause a scene. You guys didn't have to-"

"Yes, we did," Katsuki said flatly. "That bastard was all over you."

"He was just-"

"He was flirting," Shoto interrupted, his voice cold. "Deliberately. And you were uncomfortable."

"I wasn't uncomfortable," Deku protested. "I just didn't realize what was happening."

Katsuki and Shoto exchanged a look-brief, loaded with something neither of them wanted to examine.

They'd both seen it. Both reacted. Both felt that same visceral need to remove Hayato from Deku's space.

Both felt-

No. Katsuki shoved the thought away before it could fully form.

"Let's just train," he said shortly. "That's what we're here for."

TODOROKI SHOTO

The training scenarios Midoriya had designed were excellent-complex, challenging, requiring precise coordination and split-second timing. They should have been engaging enough to distract Shoto from the uncomfortable tightness in his chest, from the image of Hayato's hand on Midoriya's arm that kept replaying in his mind.

They weren't.

Because Midoriya was right there, moving with that fluid grace that came from years of training, his analytical mind processing threat levels and optimal response patterns in real-time. And Shoto couldn't stop watching him. Couldn't stop tracking his movements, couldn't stop finding reasons to stay close.

"Shoto, left support beam-now!" Midoriya's hand landed on his shoulder, directing his attention, and Shoto felt the touch like a brand even through his costume.

He created the ice pillar where indicated, carefully controlled to provide structural support without destabilizing the simulated building. When he turned back, Midoriya was already moving, already analyzing the next threat.

Shoto followed, staying close. Too close, probably, but he couldn't seem to help it.

"Good!" Midoriya called, his voice bright with focus. "Kacchan, blast pattern three-seven on my mark!"

Bakugo responded instantly, his explosion perfectly timed and controlled. They moved through the scenario with increasing synchronization, their coordination improving as they fell into rhythm.

But Shoto couldn't shake his awareness of Bakugo either. The way he was staying close to Midoriya, the way his eyes tracked Midoriya's every movement, the way he found reasons to touch-a hand on Midoriya's back to guide him away from falling debris, fingers on his wrist to redirect his attention.

It felt territorial. Possessive.

It felt like competition.

The realization made something hot spike through Shoto's chest. He moved closer to Midoriya, positioning himself between Midoriya and the next simulated threat, his hand coming up to steady Midoriya's shoulder as they navigated through a narrow corridor.

Midoriya was warm under his palm. Solid. His muscles moved as he adjusted his position, and Shoto had to force himself to focus on the scenario instead of the way Midoriya's body felt under his hand.

"Perfect positioning," Midoriya murmured, his voice low and focused. "Kacchan, you're clear for the next blast. Shoto and I will provide cover."

Shoto's hand stayed on Midoriya's shoulder longer than necessary, and when he finally pulled away, he caught Bakugo watching them with an expression that was carefully neutral but eyes that burned.

The second scenario was worse. A hostage situation requiring stealth and precision, forcing them into even closer quarters. Midoriya directed them through the simulation with quiet intensity, his voice low and focused, and Shoto found himself pressed against Midoriya's back at one point, his hand on Midoriya's waist to steady them both as they navigated a narrow corridor.

Midoriya was warm. Solid. His body moved against Shoto's, and Shoto had to force himself to focus on the scenario instead of the way Midoriya felt pressed against him.

"On my signal," Midoriya whispered, his voice barely audible. "Ice wall, pattern two-three. Kacchan will provide explosive cover."

Shoto's hand tightened on Midoriya's waist, and he felt Midoriya's breath catch. Just for a moment. Just enough to notice.

"Understood," Shoto said, his voice rougher than intended.

They executed the maneuver perfectly, their timing synchronized in a way that should have felt purely tactical.

Except it didn't feel tactical. It felt intimate.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

The third scenario involved a multi-villain fight in a confined space. Deku coordinated their attacks with precision, his analytical mind processing threat levels and optimal response patterns in real-time. Katsuki and Half-and-Half moved in sync, their quirks complementing each other in ways that should have felt competitive.

Instead, it felt like they were both competing for something else entirely.

For Deku's attention. For Deku's approval. For Deku's-

"Kacchan, behind you!" Deku's warning came with his body-he moved into Katsuki's space, his back pressing against Katsuki's chest as he deflected a simulated attack. Katsuki's arm came around him instinctively, pulling him closer, protecting him even though this was just a simulation.

Deku was warm and solid against him. His hair smelled like his shampoo-something clean and slightly sweet-and Katsuki had to force himself to focus on the scenario instead of the way Deku's body felt pressed against his.

"Got it," Katsuki said, his voice rough. He released Deku reluctantly, creating space between them even though every instinct screamed to keep him close.

When he glanced up, Half-and-Half was watching them again, his expression carefully neutral but his eyes intense.

Jealous.

The realization hit Katsuki like a physical blow. Half-and-Half was jealous. Of him. Of the way Deku had pressed against him, trusted him, let him hold him.

But there was something else in that look too. Something that made Katsuki's chest tight.

Recognition.

Like Half-and-Half saw something in Katsuki that mirrored something in himself.

No. That was impossible. That was-

Katsuki shoved the thought away and focused on the scenario.

The training continued, each simulation requiring closer coordination, more physical contact, more awareness of each other. By the time they finished the fifth scenario, Katsuki's nerves were raw, his control fraying at the edges.

Deku looked flushed and energized, his eyes bright with the satisfaction of a good training session. "That was amazing! The coordination in that last scenario was exactly what I was hoping for. Did you feel how our movements started to synchronize? How we were reading each other without verbal cues?"

"Yeah," Katsuki said, his voice tight. "We felt it."

Half-and-Half nodded, his expression still carefully controlled. But Katsuki could see the tension in his shoulders, could see the way his hands had clenched into fists.

They were both wound tight. Both struggling with something they couldn't name.

"I think we should take a break," Deku said, glancing between them with a slight frown. "You both seem tense. Are you okay?"

No. Katsuki was not okay. He was standing here wanting things he shouldn't want, feeling things he shouldn't feel, and he had no idea what to do about it.

"Fine," he said shortly. "Just need water."

"There's a break room down the hall," Deku said, already heading toward the door. "Come on, I'll show you."

TODOROKI SHOTO

The break room was quiet, most of the agency staff still out on patrol or handling administrative work. Midoriya grabbed water bottles from the fridge, handing them to Shoto and Bakugo with that same bright smile that made Shoto's chest tight.

They drank in silence, the tension from training still crackling between them. Shoto could feel Bakugo's presence like a physical weight, could feel the way they were both hyperaware of Midoriya, both tracking his movements with an intensity that went beyond normal friendship.

This was wrong. This possessiveness, this jealousy-it was wrong.

But Shoto couldn't shake it. Couldn't shake the image of Hayato's hand on Midoriya's arm, couldn't shake the way watching it had made him want to stake some kind of claim.

Couldn't shake the way his chest had felt tight during training, watching Midoriya move between them, watching him trust them both, watching him press against Bakugo with that same easy intimacy he'd shown Shoto.

He wanted-

He didn't know what he wanted.

That was a lie. He knew exactly what he wanted.

He wanted Midoriya. Wanted him in ways that went far beyond friendship. Wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to make it very clear that Midoriya was his and no one else's.

The thought should have been absurd. Possessive and irrational and completely inappropriate.

But standing there, watching Midoriya drink his water, still flushed from training, still smiling that bright smile-

Shoto couldn't deny it anymore.

He was in love with Midoriya.

The realization hit him like a physical blow, like ice and fire colliding in his chest.

He was in love with Midoriya. Had been for longer than he wanted to admit. Had been fighting it, denying it, pretending it was just friendship or concern or anything other than what it actually was.

But he couldn't deny it anymore.

And he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

"I should go," Shoto said abruptly, standing. His voice came out rougher than intended. "I have... I need to check in with my agency."

It was a lie. A transparent, obvious lie.

But he couldn't stay here. Couldn't sit in this room with these feelings pressing down on him, with Bakugo's eyes on him, with Midoriya looking confused and concerned.

"Oh," Midoriya said, his expression falling. His smile dimmed, and something that looked like hurt flashed across his face. "Okay. I thought-I mean, I was hoping we could maybe grab lunch after? All three of us? But if you need to go-"

"I need to go," Shoto said, already moving toward the door. He couldn't look at either of them. Couldn't see the confusion in Midoriya's eyes, the hurt that was starting to show.

"Shoto, wait-" Midoriya's voice was small, uncertain, and it made Shoto's chest ache.

But he couldn't stay. Couldn't risk saying something he couldn't take back.

"Thanks for the training," Shoto said, his hand on the door handle. "It was... helpful."

He left before either of them could say anything else, his heart pounding, his thoughts a chaotic mess.

He'd almost said something. Almost confessed. Almost-

But he couldn't. Because this was impossible. Because wanting Midoriya was wrong, was inappropriate, was-

Was undeniable.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Katsuki watched Half-and-Half leave, tension radiating from every line of his body. Running away. He was running away from something, and Katsuki had a sinking feeling he knew what.

"Is he okay?" Deku asked, his voice small. Concerned. "He seemed upset."

"He's fine," Katsuki said shortly. "Just busy."

A lie. They were both lying now, pretending everything was normal when nothing was normal.

Deku was quiet for a moment, staring at the door Half-and-Half had disappeared through. When he turned back to Katsuki, his eyes were bright with something that looked suspiciously like unshed tears.

"Did I do something wrong?" Deku's voice cracked slightly, and Katsuki felt his chest constrict. "He seemed fine during training, but then he just-he left so suddenly. And you both seemed tense all day. If I did something to upset you guys, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't do anything wrong," Katsuki said, his voice rough. "It's not-you're fine, Deku."

But Deku's eyes were getting shinier, his expression crumpling in that way it did when he was trying not to cry. Deku had always been quick to tears-too emotional, too sensitive, too open with his feelings. It was one of the things that made him vulnerable, that made Katsuki want to protect him.

"Then why did he leave?" Deku's voice was barely above a whisper. "Why do you both seem like you can't wait to get away from me?"

"That's not-" Katsuki cut himself off, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not trying to get away from you."

"It feels like you are." A single tear slipped down Deku's cheek, and he wiped it away quickly, looking embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I know I'm being stupid. I just-I was really looking forward to today. To spending time with both of you. And now Shoto's gone and you look like you want to leave too, and I don't understand what I did wrong."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Katsuki repeated, his voice tight. "It's not you, Deku. It's-"

What? What was he supposed to say? That he'd spent the entire day fighting the urge to touch Deku, to keep him close, to make it very clear that Deku wasn't available? That watching some extra flirt with him had made Katsuki want to commit violence? That he was feeling things he had no right to feel?

That he was in love with him?

The realization hit Katsuki like an explosion to the chest.

He was in love with Deku.

Had been for longer than he wanted to admit. Had been fighting it, denying it, pretending it was just friendship or rivalry or anything other than what it actually was.

But watching Deku cry, watching him hurt and confused and thinking he'd done something wrong-

Katsuki couldn't deny it anymore.

"It's complicated," Katsuki finished lamely.

"Complicated how?" Deku's voice was small, vulnerable, and another tear slipped down his cheek. "Kacchan, please. If I did something to upset you guys, just tell me. I can fix it. I can-"

"You can't fix this," Katsuki said, his voice rough. "Because you didn't break anything. It's not-fuck, Deku, it's not you."

"Then what is it?" Deku was crying openly now, tears streaming down his face, and it made Katsuki's chest ache. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong? You're scaring me. Both of you are scaring me."

Because telling him would change everything. Would ruin everything. Would make this friendship impossible to maintain.

Because Katsuki was in love with him, and he had no idea what to do about it.

"I need to go," Katsuki said, his voice tight. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

"Kacchan, please-" Deku's voice broke, and more tears spilled down his cheeks. "Please don't leave. Not like this. I don't-I don't understand what's happening."

"I know," Katsuki said, his hands clenched into fists. "I know you don't. And I can't-I can't explain it right now."

"Why not?" Deku's voice was desperate now, pleading. "Kacchan, please. What's going on? What did I do?"

"Nothing," Katsuki said, already moving toward the door. "You didn't do anything. I just-I need to go. I'll text you later."

"Kacchan-"

But Katsuki was already gone, leaving Deku alone in the break room, crying and confused and completely unaware of the mess he'd left behind.

Completely unaware that Katsuki was in love with him.

Completely unaware that everything had just changed.

TODOROKI SHOTO

Shoto made it back to his hotel room before the careful control he'd been maintaining finally shattered.

He stood in the middle of the room, his hands clenched into fists, his temperature fluctuating wildly. Ice spread across the floor on his right side, frost creeping up the walls. Heat rolled off his left, making the air shimmer.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He'd spent the entire day fighting the urge to touch Midoriya, to stay close, to stake some kind of claim. Had felt visceral, overwhelming jealousy watching another man flirt with him. Had wanted to make it very clear that Midoriya wasn't available, that he was-

What?

His?

The thought should have been absurd. Possessive and irrational and completely inappropriate for a friendship.

But it wasn't absurd. It was just terrifying.

Because Shoto wanted Midoriya. Wanted him in ways that went far beyond friendship. Wanted to touch him, to kiss him, to make it very clear that Midoriya belonged to him and no one else.

The realization made Shoto sink onto the bed, his head in his hands.

He was in love with Midoriya.

Had been for longer than he wanted to admit. Had been fighting it, denying it, pretending it was just friendship or concern or anything other than what it actually was.

But he couldn't deny it anymore.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

Because Midoriya didn't feel the same way. Midoriya had said he wasn't interested in dating, had never thought about relationships. Midoriya saw him as a friend. Just a friend.

And even if by some miracle Midoriya did feel the same way-

Shoto had left. Had run away like a coward, leaving Midoriya confused and hurt.

The memory of Midoriya's expression-the way his smile had dimmed, the hurt that had flashed across his face, the tears that had started to fall-made Shoto's chest ache.

He'd hurt Midoriya. Had made him think he'd done something wrong when the only thing Midoriya had done was exist, was be himself, was be everything Shoto wanted and couldn't have.

Shoto pulled out his phone, staring at their group chat. He should text. Should apologize. Should explain-

But he couldn't. Because explaining would mean confessing, and confessing would ruin everything.

So he sat there in his hotel room, surrounded by ice and fire, completely alone with the realization that he was in love with someone he couldn't have.

Someone who would never feel the same way.

BAKUGO KATSUKI

Katsuki made it to the train station before he had to stop, his hands shaking, his chest tight.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What the hell had he done?

He'd left Deku crying. Had walked out on him when he was hurt and confused and needed answers. Had run away like a coward because he couldn't handle his own feelings.

The memory of Deku's face-the tears streaming down his cheeks, the desperate confusion in his eyes-made Katsuki want to punch something. Want to explode something. Want to do anything except acknowledge what he'd done.

He'd hurt Deku. Had made him think he'd done something wrong when the only thing Deku had done was exist, was be himself, was be everything Katsuki wanted and couldn't have.

Because Katsuki was in love with him.

The realization sat heavy in his chest, undeniable and overwhelming.

He was in love with Deku. Had been for years, probably. Had been fighting it, denying it, pretending it was just rivalry or friendship or anything other than what it actually was.

But he couldn't deny it anymore.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

Because Deku didn't feel the same way. Deku had said he wasn't interested in dating, had never thought about relationships. Deku saw him as a friend. Just a friend.

And even if by some miracle Deku did feel the same way-

Katsuki had left. Had walked out on him when he was crying, when he needed reassurance, when he needed someone to tell him everything was okay.

Katsuki pulled out his phone, staring at their group chat. He should text. Should apologize. Should explain-

But he couldn't. Because explaining would mean confessing, and confessing would ruin everything.

So he stood there in the train station, surrounded by people who didn't matter, completely alone with the realization that he was in love with someone he couldn't have.

Someone who would never feel the same way.

Someone he'd just hurt because he was too much of a coward to face his own feelings.

MIDORIYA IZUKU

Izuku sat alone in the break room, tears streaming down his face, completely confused and utterly lost.

What had just happened?

The training had gone well. Really well. The coordination had been excellent, the synchronization exactly what he'd hoped for. Shoto and Kacchan had worked together beautifully, their quirks complementing each other in ways that were tactically brilliant.

But then everything had fallen apart.

Shoto had left abruptly, making excuses that didn't make sense. And Kacchan had followed, leaving Izuku alone and confused and feeling like he'd done something terribly wrong.

But what?

Izuku replayed the day in his mind, trying to figure out what had changed. The training had been good. The incident with Hayato had been awkward, but Kacchan and Shoto had handled it, and Izuku had made it clear he wasn't interested.

So, what had gone wrong?

Why had they both looked at him like that during training? With that intensity that made his skin feel too warm, that made his heart race in ways he didn't understand.

Why had they both seemed so tense, so uncomfortable, so desperate to leave?

Izuku wiped his tears away, trying to pull himself together. He was being stupid. Emotional. They were just busy. They had their own lives, their own responsibilities. It was selfish to expect them to spend the whole day with him.

But it had felt like more than that. It had felt like they were running away from something.

From him.

The thought made fresh tears spill down his cheeks, and Izuku buried his face in his hands.

He didn't understand. Didn't understand any of this.

Didn't understand why his chest felt so tight, why his heart ached so much, why the thought of them leaving felt like losing something essential.

He pulled out his phone, staring at their group chat. Should he text? Should he apologize for whatever he'd done wrong?

But he didn't know what he'd done wrong. Didn't know what to apologize for.

So, he sat there in the break room, alone and crying and completely unaware that both of them were in love with him.

Completely unaware that everything had just changed.

Completely unaware that nothing would ever be the same again.