The party seems reserved, yet lively from what I can hear from the foyer as I step through the door. The room has a nice raspberry wine scent, and the distant, bouncy polka music lifts my spirits. My mother walks close beside me, and when we get stopped at the hallway by a man with sharp eyes and graying hair, she smiles with a respectful dip of the head and hands him our invitation. "Oh, forgive me madam. I see you are a personal guest of Lady Todoroki. Please enjoy the party," he apologized for his originally skeptical demeanor and unhooked the thick velvet rope blocking our entrance.
My mother and I step as quietly as possible into the room to avoid the unwanted attention of the wealthier guests, and thank the stars it works. That is, until my childhood 'friend' approaches me with a scowl. I am trembling in fear, but I manage a polite nod and reach out my hand for him to shake. He barely spares it a glance before speaking. "Deku. I see you've managed to scrounge up enough bread crumbs to attend this gaudy party," he deadpans. I'm suddenly pissed, so I return the tone of voice. "Good evening, Kacchan," I'm sure to speak the childhood nickname he despises as loudly as possible, "And I see you've bought your way into the Todoroki fame again. Shame you can't seem to scrape up enough gutter pennies to buy some decency." He fumes. I smirk.
"If you please," he spits, "my name isn't Kacchan."
"And my name isn't Deku. But clearly, we can't all have what we want, can we, 'Bakugo House Cleaning Service'?" I retort with a flame in my eye. Just as it seems he's about to lose his temper, someone new steps in. I haven't met him before, but I definitely know him. Every time my mother and I attend a small gathering at the Todoroki household, I see him silently watching me from the shadows, peering around darkened doorways. Always watching, never speaking.
"Excuse me sir, but this young man is a personal guest of my mother's. I need to speak to him," his voice is quiet and reserved, sorrowful and deep. It is sexy as all hell. "May I have you for a moment?" He turns to me, and although I had noticed some odd things of his before, I had never seen quite how attractive it was up close.
When I had once worked up the guts to ask Mrs. Todoroki about him, she had simply told me that he was shy. She didn't say why, but I had always noticed that his hair was pure, snowy white. I wondered if that was why.
And now, here he is, dressed up in a beautiful tuxedo, and he is finally here for all to see.
By now the whole room has turned to look. Clearly he had just emerged from his dark corner, just for me. I feel a hard blush start to climb up my neck. No, I tell myself, no. I know being gay is wrong, that's what they all say. But I just can't help how I feel.
After a moment of being pinned under his heterochromatic gaze, I give a small nod, and shockingly—shocking enough to actually draw gasps from the crowd—he offers his arm. I hesitate, but accept, curling my fingers into the crook of his elbow. He quickly brings me to one of his many darkened hallways, quite far and hidden away from the hateful crowd.
In the blink of an eye, he has me up against the wall. I'm not pinned, but I can't easily walk out either. He has his arm trapping me on my right, which is my only exit, and the other rests in his pocket. His eyes seem to pierce right through me. The right half of his hair is that snowy white I saw before, but he had never shown his left side. That side of his hair is a deep, reddish brown that reminds me of raspberries and roses and dark chocolate. As my gaze travels down to his face, I see a deep burn scar across his left eye, which is a beautiful, icy blue. His other eye, on his right, is a rusty grey speckled with red. It is beautiful and entrancing. I know I'm hooked by now.
"Look." His rueful voice dragged me out from the depths of his irises. "I know we haven't met before, but you looked like you could use some help back there. Sorry if i misjudged." I open my mouth to speak, but find myself unable to create any noise. He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, looking away and...oh my god. He's blushing.
"I, um—again...sorry, I probably shouldn't have—now we're...I-I'm sorry..." he murmurs, even more redness flooding his cheeks. My fingers twitch and my pulse flutters.
I think I finally just found my voice.