Chapter 1

"You're sketching out here again?"

Shouto jolted, the tip of his pencil breaking. It created a harsh dot on his sketch of the fountain in front of the university. Damn.

He raised his head to see Momo, his fellow classmate, who was also carrying her sketchpad underneath her arm.

"Well, I was," Shouto said, grabbing his worn eraser to carefully smudge out the dot. It only smudged more, making him sulk. He leaned against the tree he was sitting under.

"You're doing more buildings," Momo said, taking a seat next to him.

"Not just buildings. I'm adding a fountain this time."

Gestured towards his sketch of the fountain, which was beautifully done and very accurate. The water popped on the page, and it was only done in pencil.

"I thought architecture was going to be your specialty," Momo said, opening up her sketchpad.

Shouto glanced over to see a sketch of a field of sunflowers, half of the page done in color. It was incredibly beautiful, and Shouto couldn't wait to see it transferred on a canvas.

But the sketch also made his stomach churn a bit. Momo already knew exactly what she wanted to focus on—she was a master of natural landscape art. The water on Shouto's fountain would pale in comparison to Momo's talent.

He decided not to focus on that.

He glanced back down at his sketchpad and tried carefully to erase the smudge.

"My father wants me to specialize in architecture. And then focus on business as a minor," Shouto said. "But he only wants my talents to be used to build more buildings for his empire."

"Oh, right," Momo said. She balanced the sketchpad on her bent knees and carefully worked on a cloud. "But you're good at buildings. They're very sharp."

"They're boring."

Momo looked up at that. "Says who?"

Shouto twisted his lips and sighed, leaning back against the tree and letting his head thunk against the bark.

"Professor Aizawa has been wanting me to change things up," Shouto admitted.

"He called your art boring?" Momo asked.

"Not in those exact words, but he might as well have," Shouto said.

"It's not boring to me," Momo said.

"You're just being nice," Shouto said. He showed her a sketch he had done the day before. "This one looks just like all my other stuff."

Momo studied it for a moment and then put her hand to her chin.

"Well, I do suppose you've gotten into a creative slump," she admitted.

"I'm aware," Shouto said, plopping the sketchpad onto the ground. "And I have to meet Professor Aizawa during his office hours later today."

"Huh? Today?" Momo repeated. "Is that why he held you after class this morning?"

"Yeah," Shouto said. "That's why I'm trying to add the fountain. It's somewhat different enough, so I'm hoping he will approve of it today."

"It looks fine," Momo said, leaning over to look at it.

Shouto's brow twitched as he eyed her. "Just fine?"

Momo pursed her lips and took too long of a pause. "Well…"

"Ugh…" Shouto sighed, banging the back of his head against the tree. "Ow."

"Stop it. You'll give yourself another concussion," Momo said, patting down the frayed hairs on the back of his head. "Just show Professor Aizawa what you've been working on. I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I hope so. I really don't want to flunk out," Shouto said. "I'm already feeling so behind."

Momo paused, her hand stilling on the page. She took in a deep breath and placed her sketchpad down on the grass next to her, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"You know, you could've requested time off," Momo said. "I mean, after the… accident…. you were in the hospital for nearly two weeks."

Shouto winced, his hand moving down to touch his side. It still ached a bit from the harsh bruising and stitching. He could still feel the cold blade…

He shuddered and closed his eyes, instantly removing his hand and pushing the memories away.

"It wasn't that big of a deal. I didn't really need to be in the hospital that long," Shouto said. "I can handle being in school."

Momo paused, her face drawing down into a harsh frown. "Well, yes, but… I know it happened over the fall break and all, but couldn't you have taken a leave of absence?"

"I didn't want to get behind."

"Do our professors even know what happened to you?"

"No," Shouto hissed, his hand moving back to his picture. He bore down harder with his eraser.

Momo sighed. "You know, if you told them your situation, they would cut you some slack," she said. "Especially Professor Aizawa."

"I don't want special treatment," Shouto said lowly. He rubbed harder with the eraser, not even seeing exactly what he was erasing anymore. All he could see what red, red, red, and he needed to wipe it off before—

"Shouto!"

He inhaled sharply as a small rip filled his ears. He blinked back into focus and saw that his beautiful fountain had now ripped in two.

"Oh my goodness! Shouto, I'm so sorry," Momo apologized. Her hands rested on her chest near her heart, her eyes shimmering.

Shouto took in a few deep breaths, the sting in his side finally subsiding and the pounding in his head lessening. He sighed and put the eraser down, his spirit now fully back within his body.

"It's alright. Not your fault," Shouto said.

She lowered her head a bit. "I didn't mean to push you."

"No. You're probably right," Shouto said. "I may have been… a little out of it since then."

"Then talk to Professor Aizawa. Get him to give you an extension," Momo said. "Or give you advice. He's really good with that, you know. He's very down-to-earth."

"I know. You're right," Shouto said with a sigh. He closed up his sketchpad and stuffed his eraser and pencil into his bag. "I guess I should get going there, huh?"

Momo nodded and stood to her feet. "You should. And please let me know how it goes."

"Yeah. I will."

"And, Shouto?" Momo said, grabbing his shoulder before he could flee. "You know you can talk to me, right? I'm here for you if… if you need to work out what's happened."

A flash of a few weeks ago popped into his mind but he shoved them back down into the dark recesses of his mind. He didn't even want to think about it.

"I know. Thanks, Yaoyorozu," Shouto said.

Momo nodded and smiled, giving him a small wave. Shouto returned the wave and headed back towards the art building, his stomach full of knots. He really wasn't ready to hash everything out, but he at least had a doctor's note with him. He really should have given it to his professors the first day he returned to school from fall break, but he couldn't bear to even look at it. Just seeing the hospital's name made him relive all those memories he wanted so desperately to forget.

Shouto's eyes closed as his hand tightened on the strap of his bag. His other hand crushed his sketchpad close to his chest. Damn it, the memories are coming back again. He could feel his stomach clenching and unclenching, giving him a weird dizzy sensation that made the ground spin and his head ache.

"You are the reason I'm like this, Shouto! Get a good look!"

Shit. Shit, shit!

"Can't you see that your very existence made all of us suffer?"

Don't listen, Shouto told himself. It wasn't true, it wasn't true, it wasn't—

"It would have been better if you had died during your birth!"

Shouto's eyes shut tighter. He considered just going back to his dorm and lying down until the world no longer tormented him. But being by himself in that cold, lonely room only gave him dark thoughts that he would be trapped with no escape from.

He just needed to get somewhere where he could think. Somewhere where he could clear his head and—

"Oof!"

Shouto stumbled into a hard person, his eyes shooting open as he pitched forward to try to catch himself. He let go of his sketchpad and shut his eyes tightly, bracing for impact.

But instead of landing on the hard concrete, he landed on something firm and warm. Callused hands held onto his arms, and he could faintly hear a fluttering heartbeat next to his cheek.

"Whoa! That was dangerous!" said a cheery voice above his head. "You okay?"

Shouto raised his head and gasped, his chest tightening.

Concerned, green eyes stared back at him. He had dark hair and a kind face that was spotted with charming freckles. Through his shirt, Shouto could feel how firm his chest was, and he smelled faintly like vanilla.

He was so, so handsome.

Shouto swallowed. It was like the breath had been completely sucked out of him for an instant. Was he even breathing right now?

"Um? Are you okay?" the guy said, squeezing Shouto's arms for emphasis.

Shouto blinked rapidly and looked down at their positions, realizing that he was practically straddling the man on the ground in the middle of the walkway. With the color draining out of his face, Shouto leaned back off of the man.

"I'm sorry," Shouto said, scrambling to his feet. He extended his hand down to the other. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Nah, I'm totally fine. I'm accident-prone anyway," the guy said with a smile. He took Shouto's hand, and his palm was so warm. "I'm just glad I could I could catch you in time."

"I should've paid more attention," Shouto said as he pulled him up. "I wasn't watching where I was going and—"

A slight sting in his side broke his sentence in half, and his hand moved to clutch it tightly. His stomach protested as the ground beneath him swirled.

"Ah, are you alright?!" the guy asked, extending his hands to him.

"Ah, yes, I'm fine," Shouto said, rubbing the pain away. He brushed past the cute guy with his head down. His side was aching. "Sorry for knocking you over."

"Wait! You forgot—"

But Shouto didn't hear a word he said. His heart was pounding in his ears too loudly for him to care. It about made him sick on the sidewalk.

Shouto breathed deep through his nose and desperately escaped from the scene.

He had calmed down enough to feel embarrassment from his earlier wipeout. He sincerely hoped the guy wasn't injured. Although, he felt sturdy enough. Damn, he had some nice muscles.

Focus, Shouto, he told himself.

He took in a deep breath and ignored the sting in his side as he stepped in front of Aizawa's office. He knocked on the door before he could give himself time to hesitate.

"Come in," came his professor's voice.

Shouto swallowed and opened the door, poking his head inside. Aizawa was sitting at his desk, rifling through an artistry magazine, which was ironic. Shouto thought he hated those things.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Shouto called.

Aizawa looked up. "Ah, yes. Shouto. Come in. Sit."

Shouto walked inside and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. Aizawa leaned forward on his elbows and clasped his hands together.

"Your skills as an artist are nearly perfect," Aizawa said. "But they lack… depth."

Shouto tilted his head. "Depth?"

Aizawa twisted his wrist. "Passion, emotion… life."

"Oh."

Shouto slumped, feeling a bit defeated. In the beginning, all of the professors had been impressed with his renditions of the university buildings. The president even purchased his painting of the main campus to hang in the student center. His father had definitely been proud of that, even if he wanted Shouto to use his talents elsewhere.

But as time went on, Shouto did notice that his paintings and sketches lacked something. He could even feel it in his hands as he painted.

"Have you tried something other than buildings?" Aizawa asked.

Shouto nodded. "I started on some water effects earlier this afternoon."

"May I see?"

Shouto hummed and reached for his sketchpad, which was—

Gone. His sketchpad was gone.

It was under his arm before. He had it with Momo, and across campus, and then he had it when…

Ah, damn. That guy. He dropped it when he ran into that guy!

"I, uh… I don't have it with me," Shouto said, slumping back against the chair.

Aizawa paused to blink at him with a bored expression. He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"You damned scholarship kids," he mumbled to himself. He sat up straight and folded his arms across his chest. "All right. Let me be frank with you. You won't make it through this program if you continue on like this."

Shouto sucked in a breath and held it in his gut. His hands tightened into fists on his lap.

"My suggestion is that you try something completely different. Go to a different avenue," Aizawa said.

Shouto furrowed his brows, finally finding his breath again. "But… architecture is what I specialize in."

"I'm aware. But unless you try a different style with your artwork, then I don't want you sticking to that specialty," Aizawa said. "And I'm assuming you don't want to change your art style."

Shouto shook his head silently. His style was what made his art his. He didn't want to change it up at all.

"Then you need to branch out into something new. Try a new specialty," Aizawa said. "Bring me back some sketches next week. I don't want to see a single building on any of your pages."

Shouto sat forward in his chair. "What kind of art are you looking for? I'm not sure what you want from me."

Aizawa shrugged. "Discover your muse."

Muse. What an annoying word.

"Go on. Go draw," Aizawa said, making a shooing motion with his hand. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with."

"Yes, sir," Shouto said, standing to his feet. He headed towards the door, his shoulders feeling tight. What in the world was he going to do?

"And Shouto," Aizawa called, making him stop just shy of the door. "Don't just stick to your comfort zone. Find what inspires you."

Shouto hesitated for one moment and then looked away. "Yes, sir."

He left Aizawa's office with a strange weight on his shoulders. His mind was drawing a blank of what he could draw next. Find what inspires you? What in the world did that possibly mean?

The world around him was what inspired him most. Other than that, he had his family.

Which… he wanted to completely avoid thinking about.

Shouto sighed and ran a hand down his face as he walked towards the exit of the art building. He just wanted to go back to his dorm and faceplant right into his bed. He really didn't want to think about this right now. He was too worn out, too exhausted.

"Damn, where did he go?"

Shouto snapped his head up at the sound of muttering, and his heart did a strange leap in his chest.

It was the same guy from earlier, the one he completely ran over on the sidewalk. He was looking around, his thumbnail in between his teeth.

"He must be an art student, right? So he had to have… Oh!" They locked eyes, and the guy brightened up instantly. He hurried over to Shouto's side, holding up a hand in the air to wave at him. "I'm so glad I found you! I looked all over this building. It's really confusing when you've never been in here before!"

Wow, his eyes were green. Shouto just wanted to fall into them.

"Anyway! You dropped this," he said, and he held out Shouto's sketchpad.

Shouto jolted and carefully took the pad from him. "…Thank you."

"You're welcome! Are you okay, though? You seemed pretty frazzled earlier. I hope you didn't get hurt," the guy said.

Speak for yourself, Shouto thought, I was the one who landed on you.

"I'm fine. Sorry," Shouto apologized, unable to think clearly. "I didn't injure you, did I?"

"Oh, no, no! I'm good. I'm pretty accident-prone, anyway," he said with a bright smile. "Anyways, I've got to get to practice. See you later!"

Practice? Shouto thought as he watched the guy break off into a jog in the opposite direction. His curiosity piqued, he found his steps moving to follow in the same direction. Where was he going?

He turned the corner at the school statue and headed up the hill to the track, breaking into a fast walk. He climbed up the hill, his side protesting with every step, and glanced down at the black track that surrounded a bright, green field. He could see people already running around the circular track.

Where did he go? Shouto wondered.

Then, he heard laughing, and his head turned towards the entrance to the track. The guy he bowled over was standing in front of one of his friends, a taller, muscular guy with thick calves. The guy was taking off his hoodie to reveal a tight workout shirt. It made Shouto's mouth water.

Shouto quickly shook off the feeling and watched, his eyes locking on the guy with the vibrant green eyes. The guy ran into the middle of the field and started to stretch. He was standing near some javelins and what looked like shot-put balls.

Ah, so that explained the muscles, Shouto thought. The guy was in track and field for reasons other than running.

His hand suddenly felt itchy.

Discover your muse.

Shouto swallowed, pressing his sketchpad closer to his chest. He moved forward a little bit and sat down gingerly in the grass, pulling his knees slightly up to balance his sketchpad, and he quickly got to work on drawing the guy's slightly angular face with chubbier cheeks.

Cute. So Cute.

Just as he was about to outline the guy's body structure, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. With a sigh, he glanced up to make sure his model was still in the field, and then he reached into his pocket for his phone. His heart lurched at the message.

From: Fuyumi

We were granted visitation for Thursday morning. I'd really like it if you came with us.

Shouto sucked in a breath, thoughts suddenly weighing him down like a ton of bricks. His side stung, and his head started to ache. His pencil fell from his hand and rolled down the pad and onto the grass.

Visitation? Did he really want to go and face him? Now?

"I'm going to finally end your pathetic life!"

No. He really didn't want to face that. He didn't want to look into those eyes, see that mask of a man that he used to know.

Shouto's hands closed into shaking fists, his chest hurting from the effort of just trying to breathe. He didn't want to go, but Fuyumi probably needed him there… Damn it. Why did all of this have to happen? Why couldn't he just move on with his miserable life and—

"Hey, Iida, watch this!"

Shouto snapped his gaze up to see the guy with a shot-put ball at his chin, his radiant smile bright on his face. He twirled around in a few circles and then launched the ball high in the air. The ball flew through the air and landed next to a red flag in the field.

"Woo!" the guy cheered, lifting his arms in the air. "A new record!"

Shouto's heart did a fantastic leap in his chest. The sweat on the guy's cheeks made him glisten, and his smile was so bright.

"My inspiration…" Shouto said under his breath.

With that, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and continued to draw his beautiful new muse.