Author Note: This chapter was difficult to write. Sorry for the delay!

They were silent all the way to Midoriya's room on the second floor. But the walk didn't feel like an escort anymore. Shoto found he didn't know how to carry out All Might's orders to bring Midoriya back to his room... while Midoriya was striding ahead of him, refusing to allow Shoto to catch up, never mind to lead or support.

Midoriya's back was stiff, and he'd finally stopped crying — suddenly, as if turning off a faucet. As if coming to some dark decision or resolution. Shoto's mind had barely started to process events from the cafeteria; his tension hadn't ebbed either. Seeing Midoriya in a mood he couldn't interpret was just making the situation feel twice as unstable and anxious.

Shoto fisted his hands and shook his head.

So... Bakugo had feelings for Midoriya — even if he couldn't define them for himself, even if he tried hard to ignore them. Midoriya had seemed shocked to find out... but he certainly wasn't protesting the fact.

Indeed, Midoriya hadn't protested anything Bakugo had said. Did that mean Midoriya agreed with Bakugo's insistence that they were two halves of a whole? Did Midoriya agree, too, that Shoto could only be second best?

Midoriya reached his bedroom door. He paused for a spell outside of it.

The pause allowed Shoto to catch up.

From Mineta's room, they heard, "Yeah, yeah, that's it — rip her clothes off!"

Midoriya's shoulders jerked, but he rested his hand on the knob of his door and touched the fingerprint scan on the wall. The door unlocked. He turned the knob.

Shoto spoke before they could part, before they could leave it like this. "Midoriya." His voice was strained. And he was still not sure what he wanted to say. What he might be allowed to say.

Butting in hadn't been his place.

Midoriya stalked into his room — but he left the door gaping wide open behind him.

It was an invitation for Shoto to go in. It possibly meant Midoriya wasn't mad about how Shoto had interfered and instigated Bakugo. But... did Shoto want to follow Midoriya into his room, now? Would things between them ever be the same after Bakugo's outburst again, regardless of what Shoto did or said here, in the aftermath?

He probably still had to try.

When Shoto entered Midoriya's dorm room despite himself and closed the door behind him, Midoriya fisted his hands.

"You didn't hold back at all," Midoriya said, scowling. "Now Kacchan might get expelled. And I—"

"He would deserve it," Shoto said. So Midoriya had let him in to argue, versus trying to discuss things rationally?

Something foreign bubbled in Shoto's blood at that — like everything he'd seen and heard was brewing a horrible poison in him. If Midoriya wanted to argue, or lay blame... maybe Shoto would oblige.

"Why can't you ever see it, Midoriya? No matter what Bakugo says, it's what he does that people should look at. He's a bomb that can't help going off, and yet you still show sympathy for him? You care for him?"

The poison kept seeping through. Shoto knew it would do no good if he became as angry as Midoriya seemed to be, but... Shoto wasn't sure he could help himself. It wasn't like the adrenaline from downstairs in the cafeteria had faded, either. It caused a muted thunder, or a kind of fog in Shoto's head.

He didn't understand Midoriya at all. Maybe he never would, and it had been a mistake to try. Maybe he was a fool for falling for this boy.

"Hold back?" Shoto asked hoarsely. "As if I could! If you didn't want my support... you should know I wouldn't have gone that far in the first place if you had stood up for yourself earlier!"

Shoto was beginning to crack. He worried if he cracked too much, he'd render something irreparable. Yet he'd endured this situation for too long, now — told himself for far too long that he could be an impartial person, and forget his own feelings for Midoriya's sake and Bakugo's.

The strain was suddenly too much. Shoto was just a student. Human, and—

"Don't start raising your voice at me." Midoriya's own voice went dark.

Shoto realized he had indeed begun to lift his volume. He clenched his jaw, stealing the moment to seek better control.

He could not hear Mineta in the next room anymore. Was Mineta listening in through the wall?

"Bakugo deserves whatever punishment he's going to get," Shoto said, keeping his tone low and even this time. He did not care to pretend he desired anything but venting his temper any more. Nothing else would happen, good or bad, until he let this out. "Why do you keep refusing to see it?"

"I do see it!" Midoriya shouted; his voice broke. So much, Shoto thought, for making sure Mineta didn't overhear. Midoriya's teeth gritted and he dropped his own tone back to a coarse whisper. "I have seen it, the whole time. I know you hate how I handle him, Todoroki. I know — but that doesn't change who I am! How can I simply step aside and let Kacchan suffer so much? Because of me, he got like that — with all the feelings between us so pent up! It's because of me he feels the way he does!"

"You insist on blaming yourself? It's never done you any good!"

Midoriya glared at Shoto. Shoto took a rigid few steps toward Midoriya's window, at a loss, while Midoriya stayed positioned alongside his bed.

Shoto felt caged like a helpless animal. How were they going to fix this?

"I'm trying to take responsibility for how Kacchan has reacted! Taking responsibility — isn't that what a Hero does?" Midoriya asked it sharply. Shoto could feel Midoriya's glare drag on. "It's my fault Kacchan held back until the point of explosion, it's my fault I didn't figure out his feelings sooner and confront them; I've felt so awkward around Kacchan sometimes that... that I didn't try hard enough to get through to him. Didn't even you tell me that I shouldn't give up on him? And yet I did. I..."

Shoto stilled, his hands crammed into his pockets. He tightened his jaw again and stared out the window, at the moon that always seemed to watch them when they had these 'alone' moments. Alone, without Bakugo... but this time, it would come to this?

Shoto had told Midoriya, in the hospital in Hosu, not to give up on his childhood friend. But Shoto had delivered that line as an empty platitude. He hadn't known what else to say at the time, because he'd realized he could only be the person between. Second best.

But Midoriya had taken his words to heart? Shoto's own polite, empty push had spurred Midoriya to keep engaging with Bakugo.

It meant Shoto had nobody to blame for this extended farce except himself. Shoto was not sure that right now, he could handle realizations like that.

"I did give up on Kacchan," Midoriya repeated, his voice cracking as he went on. "I failed. I did give up, inside. I thought, 'Maybe it's not worth trying any more, over and over again to get on better terms with him.' And because of my weakness, now Kacchan has fallen apart!" Midoriya seemed by then to talk to himself, as if it didn't matter any more whether Shoto was even there. "I should have talked to him more, and made him listen. I should have pinned him to a wall. What good is this power of mine— what good is being a Hero if I can't reach who I need to reach?"

Shoto stared at the moon. "Who cares." Something inside him was breaking.

Midoriya turned to him. His voice was thick when he replied, "What?"

The poison was out and free. Shoto felt as liberated as he felt exhausted, draining the toxin from himself like spilling blood where Midoriya could see. "Who cares about what you could or couldn't do with your power for Bakugo?" He asked bluntly, shrugging his shoulders. "Especially if in the end, you grew convinced he wasn't worth the trouble? Who cares about the responsibilities of a Hero as defined by the Pros? We're students. We're not Heroes yet, and at this rate we might never be. We might be dead first. The League of Villains might finish the world. Which means all we really have to guide us in the present is our feelings. Our hearts. Holding ourselves to standards set up by adults and for adults if it means ignoring our own convictions... that isn't going to solve anything." Shoto didn't care that now he was the one lost in a monologue.

Shoto was tired of adults like the police chief, wan, who agreed with their student gut-instincts, but insisted they still had to hide their deeds, thanks to the laws and the rules in place, wan. Shoto thought of the UA principal's complicated explanations of what was moral... and then All Might just saying, Be yourself. Shoto thought of how he'd ultimately justified for himself that Midoriya was his important person, his reason to be a Hero. He thought of what Stain had claimed was wrong with their society, and how Stain had taken the idea of 'justice' into his own hands... and made a mark.

Rules, laws, and morals didn't have much effect in the end. What made a difference at the bitter end was what a person wished for most inside their heart.

"Our feelings are the only real compasses inside us, capable of driving us — and they'll point us in what directions they will, regardless of definitions of 'Hero.'"

Whether the direction a heart leaned toward was good or bad... that was something decided inside — and no imposed standard from outside could control it.

Good and evil, Hero and Villain... perhaps those things were not taught or made, but born.

"It's why Bakugo gets into trouble. It's why I've lost my patience now." Shoto heard Midoriya's breath hitch, but he kept speaking his thoughts. "You can force yourself to believe whatever you like, force yourself to try to take responsibility for Bakugo further. But you'll never succeed if it's not what you want."

"Todoroki—"

"Emotional conviction is what has real power," Shoto said, turning at last away from his view of the moon. "My emotional conviction is this: I am in love with you, Midoriya."

Midoriya had parted his lips to speak, but he shut them, and Shoto watched. Midoriya sank unsteadily to sit upon his bed.

Shoto tried to keep his voice calm, as he finished letting the poison drain out. Would part of him finally heal, if he could get this off his chest?

"I'm tired of trying to pretend I'm not selfish and jealous when it comes to you. I don't care whether Bakugo has or hasn't fallen apart — because from the beginning he's been your most negative influence. I've wanted to save you from him."

Midoriya buried his face in his hands.

"I've wanted to be your hero," Shoto said, "if ever I longed for anything, outside of making things right with my mother and escaping my father's hold. I would have done anything for it. But now..." Shoto swallowed. Things would be much different, after tonight. "Midoriya," Shoto said, "I... I might never have the strength you have to go on without giving up. As much as I care for you... it's because I do that it is time for me to ask you some very blunt questions again."

It wasn't enough, any more, for Shoto to keep insisting to himself, I have to hide my feelings from him, to avoid putting him under any pressure. At this point, those maneuvers were outdated. Shoto needed he and Midoriya both to confront and evaluate his attraction toward Midoriya now — or else they'd never move forward.

"G-go ahead," Midoriya whispered, from where his hands covered his face.

Shoto nodded, though he realized Midoriya couldn't see it. "Do you not want me to protect you or defend you any more? If you hate it that it I cut in tonight to confront Bakugo, to stand up for you... then say so clearly, and I won't rescue you any more." Shoto tossed his bangs out of his eyes, then closed his eyes to help himself find control when Midoriya didn't respond. "I won't be able to bring myself to. I cannot and will not fight for you if I know you don't want me to. I won't help you out by force, if you don't wish it — because that's what I've watched you do with your 'Kacchan.'"

Midoriya's shoulders jerked.

Shoto balled his right hand into a fist, and realized it was turning cold. "I couldn't bear the way you would resent me for my continued interference — in exactly the way Bakugo resents you for trying to help him when he doesn't want it." Shoto opened his eyes again and saw Midoriya stiffen.

A moment of silence between them ticked past. Then Shoto moved his foot to take a half step toward the bed.

"This is who I am," Shoto said. "I'm somebody who needs straightforward answers. I'm somebody who hasn't done well enduring 'complicated.' Take me or leave me based on that; decide now whether you want to allow me to act freely in your defense any more... or not."

Midoriya said nothing.

Shoto swallowed and kept trying. "Tell me what you think of my feelings. Do you hate it, that I love you? Do I have a chance, or am I only making you resent me? Will we be able to keep our friendship, or do you want me to leave you alone, like we were never friends at all? Am I only in the way, an obstacle between you and Bakugo?" Shoto heard his voice waver, and once again he grew angry. "Break me of the stalemate I've been in so long because of you, before it sours everything that's good in me, Midoriya Izuku!"

Then Shoto fell silent, out of blunt surprise.

He had meant every word he said... but he hadn't realized how on-edge it sounded until he processed hearing it out loud. He sounded on the verge of going villainous, if he got the 'wrong answer.'

He sounded like he wanted to force Midoriya to choose. He was posing ultimatums.

But he didn't take his words back. Shoto wanted to know the truth. Did that make him so very bad?

If it did... if Shoto's fate was to end up some kind of Villain — after disturbing the relationship he'd always suspected he shouldn't butt into — after being rejected by Midoriya, clearly, at last — then better to find out now the direction Shoto's heart would point him in.

Midoriya muttered into his hands, "This isn't fair, Todoroki."

Shoto took a step for the door — unsurprised, somehow, that the response he finally received was not a real response at all. "So your reply," Shoto murmured, "is a non-reply?"

Midoriya was good at those. The only time Midoriya seemed certain of himself was when he recalled how much he desired to be the number one Hero, as wonderful as All Might. If Midoriya had no reply, that meant the next move would belong to Shoto.

What was Shoto going to do?

He was... he was going to leave, he decided. He was going to distance himself emotionally from everything Midoriya made him feel, from everything that had happened tonight. Shoto took another step toward the door. He could sleep on this in his own room, mull over it so as not to become rash, and then—

Partway to the door, Shoto's arm hairs stood on end.

A faint crackle rent the air and seemed to cause the sudden shift — as if Shoto could hear as well as feel Midoriya's Quirk when it kicked in.

Shoto lunged for the door instantly... but he just wasn't fast enough.

Midoriya left the bed and materialized in front of Shoto while Shoto was still three paces from the door, cutting off any escape. The veins on Midoriya's exposed skin seemed to glow crimson with Quirk power, and zipping green light sparked around him.

Shoto backed off and lit his fire hand.

"Don't," Midoriya ordered. The fight went out of Midoriya in what seemed like an instant. He took a non-threatening pose.

Shoto hesitated. Then he let his flame flicker back out.

And inside, Shoto hated himself.

Why couldn't he ever tear himself away? If Midoriya wanted to keep arguing, and Shoto wanted to leave, couldn't Shoto force Midoriya to move, then escape like he wanted to? Couldn't Shoto blast through Midoriya's dorm door, and retreat to his own dorm room? Would Shoto fail even at the part of a Villain? No matter what, it seemed he hung on Midoriya's every word. And that—

Midoriya stood breathing hard, seeming unsteady with his own emotion — or maybe with the effort of engaging his Quirk. "To ask me... to break the stalemate now..."

Shoto felt his eyes widen. Midoriya's green gaze glimmered in the moonlit dorm room like twin comets. Shoto recalled again that he was not the only angry person here. It was easier, he realized, to predict Midoriya when Midoriya was crying.

"Don't you think... that's unfair," Midoriya gritted, "when you've driven me into a corner as well, regarding my feelings for you? We're the same!"

Shoto clenched his jaw and bit the inside of his lip. Midoriya still wasn't clear enough. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

Midoriya fisted his hands. "Todoroki... Why do you think it was so easy for me to do the wrong thing, when it came to Kacchan? I don't resent you for looking out for me! It's made me happy that you want to be my hero! Even if it's wrong, I don't hate it... and that's why I became so lax with Kacchan!"

Shoto's heart pounded. His ears rang. Shoto had managed after all to pull Midoriya away from Bakugo? Was Midoriya admitting to an interest in Shoto?

Even after hearing it, a part of Shoto was afraid to trust Midoriya's husky words.

"I'm selfish for it — as selfish as you are. I've been scared to encourage you too much, though, because of it, because of how much I like your attention! Letting myself rely on you, or getting distracted by your charm... it threatens my idea of being a Hero like All Might, who manages to prioritize everyone. All Might is even nice to your father, and here I've been underestimating Kacchan's difficulty because I'm so caught up with you! B-but I'm scared to let you stop focusing on me, too — or to demand that you back off, because I wouldn't want to lose— I don't know what— Th-this has been so difficult..."

Shoto averted his eyes. He stared at the door that was mere steps away.

His attentions had made Midoriya happy, but also made Midoriya feel weakened and... distracted? Was that what Midoriya was saying?

"I'm not opposed to your feelings for me," Midoriya said evenly.

Shoto tried to show no facial expression, but hope inside him again went reeling, like birds taking flight for the warmth in winter.

"But I know that at this point, all I can give you is mixed signals." Midoriya sagged, as if defeated. "I... don't fall in love so easily. And forever, I've just been wrapped up in Kacchan, whatever those layered feelings are. Bit by bit, you've helped me understand that maybe there's something better for me, something I could want with all my heart, s-something with you, instead of with Kacchan — but I can't just jump into it, the way you have. I can't know yet! I'm not that brave, not that certain. And more than anything, I wouldn't want to hurt you while I tried to figure it out, Todoroki!"

Shoto closed his eyes another time, and tried to take a few deep breaths. Midoriya was saying he might actually want Shoto the way Shoto wanted him, but that somehow, maybe because of Shoto's anger and confidence, Midoriya felt rushed into deciding.

Shoto had still been putting pressure on Midoriya after all.

"Midoriya. I'm sorry. I've..." Shoto had been too hasty. He'd gotten too carried away — with poison and adrenaline. With frayed nerves. With the never-ending tension.

Midoriya didn't seem to hear Shoto's apology. "I..." Midoriya let his face drop. But still, Midoriya didn't cry. His strength kept emanating, like a toaster putting out warmth. "I find more and more that I'm tempted by you, Todoroki. But— it's in a really juvenile way, I think. Because of your good looks, and how cool that you are, I'm caught. But that's not everything there is to falling in love with someone. That's not everything you're feeling, right? If I can't return the deeper affection that you—" But Midoriya cut himself off, his gaze flicking up to Shoto's face... before trailing down the length of Shoto's body. As if he got distracted.

Shoto said, "Midoriya..." He shivered. He wasn't certain what to do.

His body acted for him.

His body seemed to want to take a risk. Shoto's left hand slowly rose. His fingertips were still heated from the flame he'd previously called... Heart thundering, Shoto touched and tilted Midoriya's chin upward.

Midoriya kept his eyes lowered, so that his eyelashes flickered.

Shoto's gaze wandered the face before him. What was the right thing, in this tense moment?

He pressed his thumb against Midoriya's mouth, when it seemed Midoriya would try more to talk. He ran his touch across the softness of Midoriya's lower lip, as if to call for more silence.

Shoto said, "This has turned into a mess." Midoriya's cheeks colored in the dim light. "But if you don't want me to leave you alone, and if you don't hate me for how I like you... then I am going to be here. I'm not going to make you rush."

Midoriya's green eyes lifted, dark with something like sadness, or maybe apology.

Shoto murmured very slowly, as if it would help form his point. "Take your time, Midoriya. Your romantic reciprocation continues to be secondary to my simple desire to stay by your side." He meant it.

So why was his body moving? Shoto took a half step closer.

Midoriya's hand closed on Shoto's wrist — but Midoriya held Shoto's hand in place, rather than pressing Shoto's touch aside. "My romantic reciprocation," Midoriya murmured. "What about physical reciprocation?" He couldn't meet Shoto's eyes.

Shoto leaned in, running his touch along Midoriya's mouth another time... feeling the exhale of Midoriya's breath. Was Midoriya worried that Shoto would try to take advantage of him? "I'm not asking for it." Then Shoto blinked when the words left his mouth.

Shoto blinked... and he backed off.

He had almost forgotten his manners. If he wasn't asking for reciprocation, then he should not make physical advances, as he was just doing now. Who was he, to press Midoriya into something like this? Who was he, to lose control?

Even if Midoriya had finally admitted a level of interest in Shoto back, a physical attraction, that didn't mean Midoriya wanted—

Midoriya moved in again. "You wouldn't ask it of me," Midoriya said, "I know. But I'm saying, o-out of curiosity, what would happen if I... um...?"

Shoto's throat felt parched. He had... He had not expected Midoriya to be bold. Not that Midoriya looked like he would make a move right now. But Midoriya was thinking about it; Shoto could tell by examining Midoriya's thoughtful brow, and measuring again Midoriya's flush. The floor felt like it moved beneath Shoto.

He didn't know how to respond. Would Shoto be comfortable, if those physical lines got tangled or crossed? He'd not wondered before, because—

He let his hand drift again, this time to cup the curve of Midoriya's jaw. Shoto bent to bring their lips even. "Midoriya, be clear. Do you—"

The door behind them banged open.

Midoriya would have jumped a mile... if Shoto had released him.

A laden dinner tray thrust itself through Midoriya's door at once, held in the air by a hand both Shoto and Midoriya could recognize.

"I have arrived!" came the call. "For the boy who neglected to eat enough dinner because of Young Bakugo, I bring you— Y-Young Midoriya!" All Might clapped eyes upon Midoriya and froze.

Midoriya grabbed Shoto's hand and tore it aware from his face, while Shoto wondered if a person could die of embarrassment. Then Midoriya hollered like a child, high-pitched, as embarrassed as Shoto was. "A-All Miiiiight! I told you to knock!"

All Might looked further in the room. Shoto met the Pro Hero's gaze; they gaped at each other with eyes wide.

All Might was the first to form further words. "Y-Y-Y-Young Todoroki, are you finally making—? I see. Making a move! Pardon!" With a dramatic bow, a sweat drop, and a slam, All Might retreated again... carrying Midoriya's fresh new dinner tray back out with him.

Midoriya covered his face and groaned.

Shoto could hear All Might out in the hall.

Ah hah hah hah! Y-Youth! But I think Young Midoriya is going to get devoured, if Young Todoroki's prowess on the training field is any— what on earth am I thinking? Stop that, All Might! As the number one Hero, I believe I should...

Shoto just put his face into his palm.

Midoriya's door thundered open again. "Interference is called for in this case!" All Might pointed with his free hand. "Young Todoroki, I must advise you—"

Shoto lowered his hands — palms facing outward so that All Might could see them. He stepped away from Midoriya and sighed, then gave All Might a tiny nod. "I haven't done anything strange to him."

All Might was like a father in this case, right?

"Wh... Whatever you want to do is ultimately none of my business, I think... Ah, but—" All Might tried to chuckle. Probably the entire dorm floor could hear him.

Shoto wondered how he and Midoriya would handle the student chatter later, if anybody mentioned this.

Appearing strained, All Might deposited Midoriya's food tray into Midoriya's hands. "But it's my duty as teacher and guardian to make sure it involves consent! Consent, do you hear me, Young Todoroki?"

"Consent," Shoto repeated, calm.

He made his way out at last through the door; it wasn't difficult to slip around the deflated form of All Might. Sometimes Shoto didn't believe his own life.

As he retreated, he took a breath that coated his body in a thin, frosty sheen of much-needed cool. All Might had a point, in the end. Midoriya had implied things, but hadn't explicitly said—

"T-Todoroki," Midoriya peeped, sounding like a lost baby chick. Shoto scuffed to a halt, a pace now down the hall. "I... I want us to discuss this again later. Finish discussing it. Is that okay?"

Shoto answered honestly, registering at last how helpless he was when it came to Midoriya. "If that's what you want... at some point, you'll have it."

All Might's voice echoed, distraught. "If you're going to use euphemism, young men, then pick a less cliched one than 'discussion!'"

Shoto walked to take the stairs, rather than employing the elevators, torn between blushing and rolling his eyes.