Iida watched Hagakure scurry away until she turned a corner and went out of sight.

He hadn't known what to think, at first, but putting the pieces together gave him only one conclusion. Her nervousness and embarrassment, the laughs of the others in the classroom… she must have asked him out on a dare.

Iida tried to think the best of others, and he certainly hadn't thought Hagakure capable of such rudeness, but it was possible she hadn't taken Iida's feelings into account. He would have to tell her how hurtful it was to get someone's hopes up in that manner, so she didn't repeat it with someone else in the future. Hopefully she'd spread what he said to the other girls he'd heard laughing, too. He wondered how many people were in on it, all in all.

He was quite thoroughly lost in his own world when, out of the blue, he heard a voice call his name. Uraraka stood next to the door to his dorm room, obviously waiting for him, with a frown on her face and her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"Uraraka," Iida said, nodding. "Good afternoon." He paused, taking in her expression. "Have I done something to upset you?"

"I called your name three times before you heard me."

"Oh, my apologies!" Iida forced a smile. "I was preoccupied with… other things."

"What did you say to – what did Hagakure have to say after class?"

"Oh." He sighed. "Will you come in for a moment?"

They took off their backpacks and sat on the floor. Uraraka looked at him, patient and expectant, and he decided to tell her about what had happened. She tended to offer solid advice on interpersonal relations, and Iida found himself wanting to know what she'd say.

"Hagakure pulled me aside after class for the purpose of asking me on a date, supposedly," Iida said. "Due to the laughter I heard beforehand, as well as her body language, I realized it was most likely done as a dare."

"Oh, no," Uraraka said, voice low, and swallowed audibly.

"Quite terrible, isn't it?" Iida said, nodding. He felt the fire of righteous indignation fill him, giving him energy. It was better than getting sad about it, at least. "I can't believe that she –"

"What did you say?"

Iida coughed, surprised at her interruption, and adjusted his glasses. "I said nothing. There was no need. She left before I had a chance to respond. I find it likely she began to feel some regret at her actions."

"Oh, no no no," Uraraka said, and that thoroughly puzzled him: shouldn't Hagakure be feeling regret? Was it a bad thing? After a moment she went on: "Iida, it wasn't a prank or a dare or whatever you think it was. Why do you think that, anyways?"

"Firstly…" He held one finger. "When she asked to speak to me alone, I heard laughter from at least two other people elsewhere in the classroom. At the time I didn't connect it, but I believe it was the reaction of her co-conspirators.

"Second…" It was hard to continue, with Uraraka looking as morose as she did, but he ploughed ahead anyways. "Her exact words were 'I really like you. Will you go out with me?' but she said them in such an insincere, rushed manner…"

He stopped, because Uraraka was shaking her head again. "Iida," she said, "it was sincere, and the laughter was me. Me and Ashido."

Iida froze, blinked once. Cleared his throat. "Please explain."

"Yesterday we found this pros and cons list Hagakure had made. It was obviously about asking a person out, but she didn't say any name, just 'him'. So Ashido and I pestered her until she revealed that it was about you."

Iida felt suddenly very cold.

"And we kept trying to get her to actually do it. I didn't think she would, so when I heard you say that thing yesterday after class, I knew it was actually happening. Th-that's why Ashido and I laughed. It was just… surprise, I guess." She pressed a hand to her forehead. "I feel like I screwed everything up!"

Iida wasn't sure how Uraraka could possible feel that way when it was obvious he was the one who'd made a mess of everything. "Please don't feel bad," he said quietly. "I was the one who misinterpreted the situation. I've got to go," he added, getting to his feet. "I need to apologize to Hagakure."

"What are you going to say to her original question, though?"

Iida stopped, already halfway to the door. In truth, he hadn't given it any thought whatsoever. The most important thing to him at that moment was apologizing for the misunderstanding and making sure Hagakure knew Iida held no ill feelings for her; in his haste, he'd forgotten what the entire thing had been about to begin with.

"I'll give it more thought after I apologize," he said at last. In truth, he had no idea what he would say. "She may have rescinded her offer, anyway."

"Iida…"

He turned to face Uraraka, his hand on the doorknob. If she had planned to say anything else, she had decided not to; instead, she gave him a smile and a thumbs-up, grabbing her things to leave at the same time as he did.

"Text me," she said. "Tell me how it goes. And good luck."

"Thank you," Iida said, and they went their separate ways.

He knocked twice on Hagakure's door, startling himself with how loud the sound seemed in the quiet hallway. After a moment he heard a barely-audible voice call out "Come in," so without pausing to overthink things he opened the door and entered.

Iida could tell from the positioning of Hagakure's clothing that she was lying on her stomach on the bed, and that her voice had been muffled by the pillow. For a second Iida could actually see a face-shaped indentation in it; it was the nearest he'd actually come to seeing what Hagakure looked like. The impression disappeared as she lifted her head. Iida could actually see the moment Hagakure realized it was him there, not whomever she'd obviously been expecting instead: she froze, the way a rabbit does when startled.

"Hagakure," he said, speaking quickly in an attempt to get his message out before she could send him away, "please accept my apology for the way I reacted to your confession in the hallway. I completely misinterpreted –"

"No, no," she said, her voice cutting through his. She'd turned to sit on the bed, facing him, her hands (judging from the position of her sleeves) resting in her lap. "You don't have to say it. It's fine."

"Please let me finish," he said. "It's very important!"

She waited, silent. Iida wished she was visible: he'd never realized how much harder conversing was when he couldn't see a person's facial expressions. "I completely misinterpreted what you said earlier. I took your confession to be in bad faith."

"What do you mean?"

"I made the false assumption…" He took a breath and stared at the floor. This was hard. He knew suddenly why she'd fumbled her words and run away afterwards. "I thought it was a joke. A dare."

"Oh," she said, sniffing. Or sniffling? Was she crying? Iida looked up at her again, wishing she'd give something away. He was lost at sea. Then, voice heavy with hurt, she said, "Really? You thought I would…"

"It's nothing against you, Hagakure," he said, hoping he sounded half as sorry as he felt. "I just didn't think it likely, or possible, that you'd actually – that anyone would actually –"

"Ohh," she said, as if something had clicked. "Iida. Has that happened before?"

"To what are you referr –"

"Has someone asked you out as a joke?"

He paused, feeling stripped bare where he stood. Invisible as Hagakure was, she could be looking anywhere at any time – Iida felt as if she was looking everywhere all at once, as if no part of him was safe from scrutiny. She might have been staring at the floor for all he knew, but he felt like a bug pinned to a corkboard, trapped, paralyzed. He nodded.

Iida expected more questions about that, and was prepared to be honest with her; but she only said, "I guess it makes sense then. What changed your mind?"

"Uraraka," he said. "She told me about your list –"

Hagakure groaned, and Iida froze in fear – was she mad at him? At Uraraka? Had he gotten his friend in trouble? – but then she began to laugh. "That stupid list," she said. "It started all of this. I wish they'd never found it. I wish I'd never made it!" She wiped her face and yes, at some point she had definitely been crying, although Iida was confused, because she'd definitely just been laughing too.

"She didn't tell me what was on the list," he said quickly, unsure if that made a difference. "Just that it existed."

"That's good, anyway."

"Hagakure," Iida said, "will you accept my apology? I shouldn't have made those assumptions about you, and I'm sorry."

"Oh," she said, surprise in her voice, "yeah, seriously, it's okay. I understand."

But he wasn't sure she did. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?" he said, trying a different tack. He still felt guilty. Even without her facial expressions as a guide, he could tell she was feeling bad yet: her posture was slumped, and she still sniffled now and then.

"Hmmmm," she said, and there was a long pause. "You know, there's a movie I want to see, but none of my friends really want to go, and I hate going to movies alone. It would be super sweet of you if –"

"Of course!" Iida said, a bit louder than he'd meant it to come out. "I would love to accompany you!" He didn't care about the genre or the price: she'd graciously given him a chance, and he was eager to seize it. "What day and time works best for you?"

"Tomorrow evening?"

"Excellent," Iida said, mentally rearranging his calendar. His only plans for Saturday evening were studying, tidying his room, and perhaps a trip to the gym: all things that could be shifted to other dates without conflict.

"I'll meet you at your room at, let's say… seven? Does that work?"

"That works just fine!" He had the sudden urge to shake her hand, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what he was supposed to do in this situation. "Thank you very much!"

"No problem. See you then."

That was a goodbye if he'd ever heard one, so he gave her a polite nod and left. On his way back to his own room, it occurred to Iida that she had never re-asked the initial question about the date – she must have forgotten.

He would have to remind her when they went to the movie tomorrow.