Shota’s POV

The first thing I feel is warmth. The kind that sinks into your skin and spreads through every inch of your body, lulling you into a bliss you never want to leave. My eyes are still closed, but I don’t need to see to know she’s still beside me. I can feel her presence, soft and steady, like the gentle rhythm of waves against the shore.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m not fighting it.

My arms are still useless—wrapped in casts, heavy and awkward—but none of that matters. Last night... hell, I’ve never felt anything like it. Not just the physical connection—though, if I’m being honest, that was something else entirely—but the closeness, the vulnerability we shared. It was raw, unfiltered, and damn near perfect. She was everything—strong, caring, and in control.

I’ve spent my life being the one in control, the one keeping everything together. But last night? Mailin took over. And the way she did... the way she handled me, led me... I’ve never been more captivated. She broke through every wall I’d put up, and somehow, it didn’t scare me. It felt right.

I open my eyes slowly, blinking against the sunlight that’s spilling through the window. I turn my head just slightly, and there she is—Mizuhana Mailin. Her golden blonde hair is spread out across the pillow, glowing in the early morning light. Her face is soft, peaceful, with the faintest hint of a smile curving her lips. It takes my breath away.

God, I’m whipped. There’s no other word for it.

I’ve spent so long pushing people away, distancing myself from everything, convincing myself that being alone is what I needed. But seeing her now, lying beside me, so content, I can’t imagine wanting anything else.

Her body is tucked against mine, her skin warm where it touches me. My chest tightens at the memory of last night, of her taking control, leading me when I couldn’t do it myself. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter—just guided me through every moment, every touch, every kiss.

And I let her. I wanted her to.

It’s strange, this feeling. I’ve been alone for so long, I didn’t think I needed this. But now? Now I can’t imagine not having her here. The thought of her not being in my life, not waking up beside me like this, feels... wrong.

I watch her for a few more moments, just soaking in the sight of her, before I lean in slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her shoulder. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and when she sees me, her smile widens, lighting up her entire face.

“Good morning,” she whispers, her voice soft and full of warmth.

“Morning,” I reply, my voice lower than usual, still heavy with sleep and something else I can’t quite name.

For a moment, we just look at each other. There’s no need for words. The connection between us is thick, palpable, like an unspoken agreement that we’ve crossed a line there’s no going back from—and neither of us wants to.

She shifts slightly, turning onto her side to face me, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of my cast. The touch is so gentle, so delicate, and yet it sends a wave of heat through me.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, her bright blue eyes full of concern.

“I’m fine,” I say, though I know the look she’s about to give me. The same look she’s given me every time I’ve tried to brush off my injuries.

Her eyes narrow slightly, and she bites her lower lip—a gesture so small but so damn tempting—that I have to resist the urge to pull her closer.

“You’re not fine, Shota,” she says softly, her fingers trailing over my chest, leaving a line of warmth in their wake. “You’re still healing.”

There’s something in her voice, something that tugs at my heart in a way I’m not used to. It’s not just concern. It’s more than that.

I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere between our time together in high school and last night, I fell for her. Hard.

And now? Now there’s no going back.

I shift slightly, my body still aching from the injuries, but the need to be closer to her is stronger than the pain. I move my head, pressing my lips gently to her forehead. “Thank you,” I whisper, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“For what?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For everything.” I pull back just enough to meet her gaze, and for a moment, the world fades away. It’s just the two of us, wrapped up in this quiet moment, and I’m hit with the overwhelming need to tell her how much she means to me. How much she’s always meant to me.

But I don’t. Not yet.

Instead, I reach out—well, as much as I can with my arms in casts—and she seems to understand immediately. She moves closer, pressing her body against mine, her warmth seeping into me, grounding me in a way I didn’t think possible.

---

Mailin’s POV

His touch is soft, gentle, and it sends a wave of warmth through me. I wasn’t sure what to expect this morning, but seeing him like this—so open, so vulnerable—makes my heart swell in ways I can’t explain.

Last night was... perfect. More than I ever imagined. And now, waking up beside him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, it’s like a dream I never want to end.

I glance up at him, his dark eyes watching me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. He’s always been so stoic, so in control, but now... now I can see the shift in him. The way he looks at me—it’s different. There’s a softness there, a tenderness I’ve never seen before.

I reach out, my fingers brushing against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my touch. It’s such a simple thing, but it feels like so much more.

He leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and my heart skips a beat. I’m not used to this—to him being this open, this affectionate. But I can’t deny how much I love it.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice so soft, so full of emotion, that it makes my chest tighten.

“For what?” I ask, my own voice barely a whisper.

“For everything.”

The way he says it, the weight behind those words, sends a shiver down my spine. There’s so much he’s not saying, but I can feel it. In the way he holds me, in the way he looks at me. And I know, deep down, that this is it. This is where everything changes.

I move closer, pressing my body against his, and for a moment, we just lay there, wrapped up in each other. The world outside doesn’t matter. All that matters is this—us.

His breath is warm against my skin, and I close my eyes, letting myself get lost in the feeling of him beside me. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.

And for the first time, it feels like maybe—just maybe—it’s mine.

---

Shota’s POV

As we lay there, the weight of everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve shared, settles over me like a warm blanket. It’s a feeling I didn’t know I was missing until now.

Her body is pressed against mine, her skin soft and warm, and I can feel every inch of her against me. It’s intoxicating.

I’ve never been one for words, especially when it comes to feelings. But with Mailin... it’s different. She’s different.

I watch her for a few moments, taking in the way her golden blonde hair falls across her shoulders, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. She’s beautiful, more than I could ever put into words.

And as much as I want to tell her how I feel, how much she means to me, I can’t seem to find the right words. So instead, I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her lips.

It starts soft, gentle, but it quickly deepens, and before I know it, we’re lost in each other again. Her hands move to my chest, her fingers tracing the lines of my muscles, and I can feel the heat rising between us.

It’s like last night all over again, but different. Slower, softer. There’s no urgency, no rush. Just us, taking our time, savoring every moment.

And as her lips move against mine, I know one thing for sure.

I’m never letting her go.

I could stay like this forever.

The warmth of Mailin’s body against mine, the way her breath tickles my skin as she rests her head on my chest—it’s bliss. Every inch of me feels alive in a way I haven’t experienced in years. Last night... well, last night was more than I ever expected. It wasn’t just the physical connection, though that was incredible—it was everything. The way she knew exactly how to handle me, how to make me let go when I was convinced I couldn’t. She took control, and I didn’t even realize how badly I needed that until now.

But as much as I want to stay in this bed, as much as I want to hold her for the rest of the day, reality starts to creep back in. The memory of the USJ attack, my students’ faces, the nagging feeling that I need to be back at U.A., keeping things in check. My arms may be in casts, but I’m still their teacher. I can’t let them down.

She stretches, the sheet slipping down to reveal more of her bare skin, and I have to look away for a moment, biting back a groan. It’s too early for these kinds of thoughts, but damn, she makes it hard to focus on anything else.

“Stay a little longer,” she whispers, her hand reaching up to brush lightly over my chest. Her touch is soft, warm, and I almost cave in. Almost.

But I can’t. Not today.

“I need to get back to work,” I mutter, my voice betraying the internal battle I’m fighting. “I’ve been out long enough.”

Mailin props herself up on her elbow, giving me a look that’s half-amused, half-annoyed. “Shota, honey, its been a day. You’re still injured. You can’t even dress yourself.”

I blush at the nickname but grit my teeth, hating the reminder of my current state. “I’ll manage.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Really? With two broken arms?”

I can’t help the slight smirk that tugs at my lips. “I’ve been through worse.”

Mailin rolls her eyes, but there’s a softness there too, an understanding that makes my chest tighten. She leans closer, brushing a kiss against my cheek before sighing dramatically. “Fine. But I’m dressing you.”

I blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me.” She swings her legs over the edge of the bed, standing up, completely unbothered by the fact that she’s still completely naked. I, on the other hand, am very aware of it.

She rummages through my closet, pulling out a black shirt and a pair of pants, before turning back to me with a mischievous smile. “If you’re determined to go, you’re going to let me help.”

I want to argue, to tell her I don’t need her to do that, but the truth is, with my arms like this, I don’t have much of a choice. And besides... there’s something undeniably intimate about the thought of her dressing me.

Mailin steps closer, her golden hair falling over one shoulder, and she helps me out of bed. Her hands move efficiently, sliding the shirt over my head, buttoning it with ease, and every touch sends little sparks through me. I try to focus on anything else, but all I can think about is how close we are, how her fingers brush against my skin every now and then.

“There,” she says softly once the shirt is in place. “Now the pants.”

I shift awkwardly, trying not to think too much about it as she helps me into my pants. But it’s impossible not to feel the tension between us. Every time she kneels to pull the fabric over my legs, every brush of her hand, I have to fight the urge to pull her closer.

When she finishes, she steps back, eyeing her work with a playful smirk. “See? Not so bad.”

“Yeah,” I manage to mutter, though my throat feels tight.

As I’m about to thank her, I notice what she’s wearing—or rather, what she’s not wearing. One of my shirts hangs loosely on her, falling to mid-thigh, the collar slipping slightly off one shoulder. The sight of her in my clothes... it does things to me. And by the way she glances over her shoulder at me, I know she’s fully aware of it.

“I’ll make breakfast,” she says, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. She pads barefoot to the kitchen, leaving me standing there, trying to gather my thoughts.

---

Mailin’s POV

I can feel Shota’s eyes on me as I move around the kitchen, his gaze heavy, lingering. It’s almost funny how this dynamic has shifted. Here I am, making breakfast in nothing but his shirt—too big for me, but soft and comforting—and he’s standing there, all stoic and stubborn, watching me like he can’t decide whether he’s annoyed or completely enthralled.

I bite back a smile as I reach for the eggs, cracking them into the pan with practiced ease. There’s something about this moment—about the domesticity of it all—that feels so... right. It’s not just the physical connection we’ve shared, though that was more than I could have ever imagined. It’s the closeness, the ease with which we’ve fallen into this rhythm, like we’ve always belonged here, together.

I hear him shift behind me, a low grunt of discomfort, and I glance over my shoulder. He’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, his arms in those damn casts, clearly frustrated at his own limitations.

I finish cooking, sliding the eggs onto a plate and setting it on the table. “Sit,” I say, my tone light but firm.

He gives me a look but does as I ask, sinking into the chair with a sigh. I place the plate in front of him, leaning in just slightly as I do. “Let me help.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue this time. Instead, he lets me feed him, each bite an exercise in restraint for both of us. Every time our fingers brush, every time my knee touches his under the table, the tension between us thickens.

It’s strange, this new dynamic. I’m used to being in control when it comes to healing, to taking care of others. But this? Taking care of Shota like this? It feels... different. More intimate. More personal.

And every time he looks at me with those dark eyes, I can feel something shifting between us. Something that’s been building for a long time.

After breakfast, I help him with the rest of his routine—washing his face, brushing his hair.