Chapter Text
“Shouto, you need to dance with the Yaoyorozu girl.”
Shouto clenched his teeth, taking a deep, steadying breath. Just a couple more minutes. Then I can slip out. Nobody will notice. Except Momo, but that's fine.
He reluctantly crossed the room, setting his cup down on one of the tables. Momo was hovering there, looking a lot more comfortable than he felt. Awkwardly, he held up a hand for her. “Um, may I have this dance?”
She smiled, and set her drink down next to his. She took his head, and swept around him, holding her dress up. She really was pretty, and they got along. It wouldn't be awful – to marry her. Shouto would get used to it. Eventually. He tried to tell himself he just hated the idea because his old man had introduced it. It wasn't fair – he should be able to decide that kind of stuff on his own, right? That was how it worked, right?
But Shouto had learned to pick his battles. And usually with his father, that meant fighting almost none of the battles. He got his own little things, the dye in his hair, and his old man looked the other way as he ignored most of the parties. But since there were very few battles that he got to fight, he had to pick them very carefully.
This was not one of them.
It seemed odd that something as big as he marriage would be a battle he didn't want to fight, but the truth was – he didn't really care. He had never been in love. He had never even had a crush. He didn't think it was worth fighting for something like that, not if there was no reason to.
He had no idea that tonight was going to change everything.
Momo smiled at him, and curtsied a little after their dance. He dipped his head back. He liked her, sure. As a person. He would learn to be happy with her. Or he would just never be happy. He couldn't remember the last time that he had been. His life would just continue as it was.
But tonight he was antsy. He needed to feel like he had some sort of control. He needed just a moment, a quick glimpse of what it might be like to be free – to do as he pleased.
She noticed him glance away, and raised an eyebrow. She checked over her shoulder before she spoke, and kept her voice quiet. “You going to sneak away?”
He nodded, feeling warmth in his chest. Even if he didn't love her, she understood him more than the others did. He would be happy – well, he wouldn't be unhappy – with her. They would figure it out. Tonight, he just needed something different.
She winked, and turned her back, whispering, “Go for it. I'll cover for you.” And then she swept away, her beautiful dress shimmering in the light of the party.
He watched her go for a moment. Momo was probably the closest thing that he had to a friend. She didn't know anything about him, of course, but they got along, and that was more than most people could say. He turned, and slipped out through the bushes.
He didn't really have a destination in mind – just away. He walked through the quiet town, his hands in his pockets. The stars were out tonight. He didn't really enjoy looking at the stars, but it was a nice blanket over him, laid out over the sleeping city like a big warm comforter.
He hadn't walked for more than a half hour when his phone rang. He lifted it, seeing his father's name flashing across the screen. He felt his nose wrinkle. He could get away with not answering it, right? He could pretend he left it at home, or something. He would pay for it later, but he could just ignore it, right?
It's my life, he wanted to say. He wanted to pick it up and start screaming. I don't belong to you. But he couldn't do that. Because right now, he basically did belong to his father. He could do anything he wanted and nobody could stop him. Shouto was at his mercy.
He wanted to kick and fight back, to throw himself off a bridge, to throw his old man off a bridge. He wanted to grind his teeth together until they all cracked. He wanted to scream – no words – just pure, full screaming.
Instead of doing any of that, he just watched the phone ring until it stopped. Then he put his phone back in his pocket. The anger, frustration, sank low in his stomach, stewing there. It was hot, boiling even. He needed something cold. He needed something that might just give him a heart attack.
All Might's All Night Shop Stop.
He paused, not realizing he had started walking again. He allowed his gaze to fall from the sign, to the grimy windows, and he felt himself go still. Inside, there was a boy at the counter. He had a messy mop of dark hair – tinted green. It was wild, half curly, like he had sort of given up trying to tame it. Shouto would have liked to know what it felt like – was it soft, or rough? Would it flatten down against his head if it was wet, or if someone was pushing it back? The boy's eyes stared down at the paper that he was scribbling on against the counter, looking focused. Shouto stood there for a moment, watching him. It was probably a little creepy, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to explain it if the guy looked up, or if somebody were to walk by. But it was almost four in the morning, surely nobody else would be around.
Then the boy smiled.
It was just a little thing, he had figured something out on his paper, and started scribbling again, but it shifted Shouto's entire world on it's axis. He felt dizzy, as though everything had realigned. The world, instead of rotating around itself, instead of rotating around Shouto's father, it moved with this boy. The very air around Shouto drew him forward, pushed him into this boy. There was something, something, something that Shouto couldn't describe, but he needed... he needed to be closer to him.
This one is special, something in his head said. This one. This one.
Shouto hesitated on the sidewalk. There was something ingrained into him – something telling him that he wasn't allowed to go in. The little convenience store had been there for ages – Shouto had always seen it growing up. But his father had told him that they didn't go into places like that. They didn't belong there. They're for poor people, he would say. We can afford to have some dignity.
Shouto gritted his teeth, shoved the door open, and stalked inside.
The boy looked up, their eyes meeting immediately. The boy froze, eyes locked with Shouto's, mouth drifting half open like he was going to say something. And man, he was even more mesmerizing now that Shouto could really see him. Freckles dusted his cheeks and nose. His wide green eyes were deeper and more mysterious than the ocean, wider and full of more galaxies and worlds than all of the sky. Shouto felt as though he was going to be dragged forward, pulled toward this boy as though he was a giant planet and Shouto was some useless little moon, caught up in his gravity.
What's he thinking? What's his name? What's his favorite color? How does he like his bed made? What does he look like in the morning, right after he's woken up?
The staring was bordering on weird. The boy wasn't saying anything, and Shouto started to wonder if he was creeped out. After all, Shouto had just walked in and stopped, staring at him. So he swallowed, eyes taking in the slushy prices on the wall, (confirming they actually had a machine) and managed, “Slushy.”
The boy's mouth snapped shut, and he struggled for a moment. Then he lifted his arm and pointed down the aisle towards the whirring machine. Shouto didn't trust himself to say anything else, and so he turned on his heel and headed off for it.
He took a moment in the aisle to shake his head hard to try and clear it. What was wrong with him? Why was he being so fucking creepy? He had to be making this boy panic – after all, it was nearly four in the morning, and Shouto had just walked in and stared at him like some psycho. He had to be more normal when he went up to pay. Oh god, he thought, I have to talk to him. Can I even manage full sentences?
He made his slushy as quickly as he could, unable to decide which flavor he wanted and pouring a little bit of all three in, snapping one of the lids on. He stuffed a straw in his pocket, feeling stupid. He's just a boy. Just somebody you've never met.
Shouto looked up, looking down at the aisle. The green-haired boy was clutching his phone, holding it inches from his face, wide eyes reading frantically. A vicious stab of panic sunk its way into Shouto's chest. He realized with a horrible feeling of disappointment that hit him like a brick wall that he knew what the boy was googling. Todoroki Shouto. Todoroki Enji. Endeavor Agencies. Something along those lines, because the boy recognized him, and had to make sure that Shouto really was who he thought he was.
And here it was again, his old man ruining everything. Why couldn't Shouto just be normal? Why could he have a normal father, normal problems like getting yelled at cause he wasn't doing his homework, or having some shitty job like night shift at a convenience store? Why couldn't he just belong in this world?
But then, after a moment, the boy's phone drifted down towards the counter, and Shouto watched him mouth Heterochromia.
He felt his cheeks color – he had been spending his whole life listening to people tell him that it was so cool that he had two different colored eyes, but he hadn't been glad for the heterochromia until this very moment. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. This wasn't about who he was. This was just about his eyes.
Get ahold of yourself, the very small part of him that was still rational said. But he couldn't. Didn't know if he wanted to.
He did, however, take a couple deep breaths to get himself back to a normal color, and then he headed down the aisle and stopped at the counter. He set the slushy down, and then went for his wallet. He didn't look at the boy, just at the counter in front of him. Could he look up without blushing again? Would he be able to hold any kind of conversation? He wondered if he looked annoyed. He usually looked annoyed.
“Um, 2.25.”
Shouto paused, eyes finally coming up to the boy, who was staring at him, looking vaguely panicked. That wasn't right, was it? He looked back at the prices on the wall. It was definitely supposed to be 2.75.
The boy made a small, involuntary noise, and said with a hoarse voice, “Special deal. Between 3 and 4 AM. Larges, the price of mediums.”
Shouto stared at him. What did that mean? The boy seemed to be having almost some sort of panic attack, his breathing rather rapid, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the counter. Shouto had a terrible, confusing urge to take the smaller boy into his arms, hold him until he calmed down. That would be bizarre. Instead of doing that, he found his wallet and pulled out three dollars.
Shouto had to tear his eyes away from freckles as the boy made change, lest he start to be creepy again. He didn't want the boy to be repulsed, to be scared of him. He found his eyes resting on the counter, where there was a piece of paper – whatever he had been working on that had made him smile. Shouto had guessed it was some kind of drawing, but it wasn't. It was math. It was hard math, at the look of it, and there were glaring errors in it.
Shouto looked back up as the boy handed him his change and the receipt. He was wearing a nametag. Midoriya. It fit him. Shouto felt like there was something inside of him that was too big for his chest. He was going to explode, probably. He needed to get away before he did that. He started to turn, feeling his head stay. He didn't want to leave yet. His eyes dropped back down to the paper. He wanted to know what was in the paper that had made him smile. He wanted to see that smile again so badly that it ached. Midoriya's smile.
He had a lot to say. He didn't say any of it. He just managed, “You have number three wrong.”
Midoriya looked down, his eyebrows rising, and Shouto panicked and left. He found himself – without the consent from the rational part of his brain – tossing his change into the little bowl that said feeling tipsy? and then booking it out the door.
Out in the cold air of night, Shouto felt like he might be sick. His stomach stormed with emotion. He didn't pause, continued to walk steadily down the sidewalk. He couldn't stop until he was for sure out of sight. He couldn't turn around. He couldn't seem weird.
He got around the corner, and slumped against the wall of the nearest building. The city was quiet around him. It wouldn't have mattered if it was loud anyways. All he could hear was ringing. All he could see was green eyes and a smile.
The Convenience Store Boy. Midoriya.