Surprise, Surprise
The morning sunlight streamed through the glass walls of the orangery, catching on the crystal glasses and silver platters that adorned the breakfast table. The effect should have been beautiful, ethereal even, but to Ren it felt harsh and exposing, like a spotlight was on her, freezing her in place. She sat beside her father at the enormous breakfast table, her silk robe the colour of moonlight making her feel more vulnerable than she would have liked. The black ink and grey paper of the newspaper in her hands trembled slightly as she tried to come up with a plan, an excuse, something!
"Is it some hipster college idiot?" Akira's voice cut through the tense silence. His perfectly tailored charcoal suit and commanding presence seemed to absorb the warmth from the room, leaving only a cold, business-like efficiency in its wake. Not that that was any different to their usual interactions.
Ren remained silent, her eyes scanning the article rapidly. Her heart, which had initially plummeted at the sight of the headline, raced as the adrenaline ignited in her veins, began to steady as she realised there was no mention of Shoto. Of course there wasn't - she had never spoken his name, had she? Even in her most unguarded moments with Bubbles, she was always careful of maintaining the public facade.
"It's not the Nakamura boy, is it?" Akira pressed, filling the silence, trying to get an answer by pressuring her just like he did to his subordinates. Nakamura was one of his chief business rival's sons, someone Ren often spoke to at parties and public events. "That family has been trying to get their hooks into our empire for years."
A small smile threatened to form on Ren's lips as she began to see the article for what it was - meaningless tabloid speculation. She let out a slow breath, there was nothing here anyone could verify, put any real value to. The private words she had spoken in the department store, now twisted and sensationalised, held no real truth, no real power.
"Oh God," Akira's voice dropped dangerously low, "it's not a wannabe hero, Ren?"
Against her will, instinctively, Ren's eyes flicked up to him in the same nanosecond that the word 'hero' was mentioned. It was a tiny movement, imperceptible to most, but her father could read people easy. He saw her movement for the sign, the truth that it could be. His fist came down hard on the table, causing the delicate china to rattle and the staff hovering in the corners to jump. The burn on Ren's throat, barely noticeable now, began to sting as though sensing the danger.
"My daughter will not be a fucking hero groupie!" He shouted, causing the chandelier above them to sway. "Is that clear, Ren?"
Hearing these words, something shifted inside the heiress, her resolve hardened, no fear was left in her eyes when she thought of the hero she loved. Her feelings for Shoto were hers alone - not fodder for tabloids, not a bargaining chip for her father's empire, and certainly not something to be ashamed of. She would be damned if anyone got to hear those three words before Shoto did.
Ren tilted her head back, letting her dark hair fall away from her shoulders, she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and pushed her coffee cup to the side slightly, indicating to the staff she was ready for breakfast. She put on the thoughtful smile she had perfected for the cameras over the years and turned to her father. She saw him recognise it; him, reflected in her, the one in control, the one who dictated what happened next. She was not the little girl who left Japan ten years ago. She felt the staff behind her tense and move, surprised at first by the change in dynamic between the formidable Akira Ishikawa and his daughter, before taking her silent instruction. Her grey eyes flashed dangerously as someone poured her coffee.
"Firstly," she said to her father, trying to fool her body into believing she was more confident than she was, "I figured Akira Ishikawa would be sharp enough to recognise a slow news day when he sees one." She watched her father's expression darken at her use of his full name, the barely veiled insult. "This is purely tabloid gossip, nothing more. I am not a child anymore, father," she added for extra insurance, "this is the kind of thing they will write about when it comes to speculation over my private life." She saw her father grit his teeth, unable to handle being scolded by his teenage daughter. "Secondly, you've been pushing," Ren thought hard about her choice of words before she continued, "that poor Todoroki boy on me since my plane landed!"
"To use him!" Akira snapped, his blue eyes flashing. "For our advantage!"
The click of heels against marble announced Hana's arrival. She entered the orangery in her formal black dress, her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in its usual neat bun. "Sir," she interjected softly, "she's just a child, she doesn't understand-"
Akira turned to reprimand her for interrupting a family matter, but stopped short at the look on her face. Ren saw it too - the fierce protectiveness, the knowledge hidden behind her pink eyes like she knew something all along. Her father's head swivelled back slowly, his gaze piercing as he studied his daughter's unreadable face.
"Is it him?" he asked quietly. "Shoto?"
Ren channeled every ounce of disinterest she could muster, thinking of all the times she had played this role in front of cameras and reporters. She rolled her eyes and picked up her china cup, "it is nobody," she said, her voice cool and dismissive.
The tension gradually left Akira's shoulders as he seemed to accept her answer. He reached across the table for her hand, but Ren smoothly moved it to her lap, denying him the contact.
"May I be excused?"
Her father opened his mouth as if to say something, then appeared to think better of it. "Yes," he said finally.
As Ren stood, the silk of her robe catching the morning light, she felt lighter somehow. Her secret was still safe, still hers to tell when and how she chose. The love she felt for Shoto wasn't diminished by her father's disapproval or the media's speculation - if anything, it felt more real, more precious for having defended it.
The adrenaline of almost being caught, of having the entire world come so close to know the truth before Shoto was still running through her veins as she left the orangery. The click of her slippered feet against the marble floor mixing with the gentle tinkling of china as the staff resumed their duties. Behind her, she could feel Hana's protective gaze and her father's lingering suspicion, but she didn't look back.
Ren ran straight up the spiral staircase and practically tumbled into her childhood bedroom. The January fog pressed against the glass balcony doors like a ghostly curtain, partially obscuring her view of the Todoroki house beyond her family's estate. The staff had already made her bed, its lavender sheets tucked with military precision beneath the ornate pillows of her four-poster bed. Her designer dress glittered, draped on a mannequin, waiting for her to put it on in a few short hours.
Her heart pounded as she grabbed her phone, still waiting for her on her bedside table. She had to tell him, ask him to meet her by the fence so she could finally tell him that she was totally, completely, utterly, hopelessly in love with her best friend. She tried to stop the smile forming on her face but she couldn't help it, she was ready to take the chance, to risk not hearing it back, having him possibly say he doesn't feel the same way. But she couldn't hold it in anymore; the words felt ready to burst from her chest, her entire body thrumming with the need to say them.
He picked up on the second ring.
"Hey baby-" she started, her voice warm with anticipation, already imagining his face when she told him.
"Did you do it?" Ren stopped short as Shoto's voice came through on the other end; cold and distant, nothing like the soft tones she'd grown accustomed to. The contrast between her excitement over their birthday tomorrow, their planned escape at midnight, her heart full of unspoken love, and his cold, professional greeting, made her stomach drop. Her smile vanished.
"Do what?"
"The article?"
Her shoulders slumped and she sank onto her bed slowly as the cold crept in from the balcony. So he'd seen it already, the story about her being in love. But his reaction... it wasn't anything like she'd imagined. "Did I…plant the article?" She asked, completely bewildered, "…no," she said slowly, "why would I do that?"
"Because you're chaotic and have zero understanding of consequence."
Something in his tone made her pause, her fingertips turning cold as they clutched the phone. What was happening here? This isn't how this should go. "Wait, Shoto, what article are you talking about?"
"The one where the entire unedited Stain manifesto has been published." His voice dripped with disbelief that she didn't know what he meant. Ren's mouth dropped open in shock. "With commentary. Your kind of analysis - blaming the system, demanding revolution, generally calling for a complete dismantling of the systems built to protect us-"
"Wait, what?" Ren's voice rose sharply, echoing off the high ceilings. "The Stain manifesto has been published? When? Where?" Her free hand gripped her neck tightly, covering her burn from any potential treat.
There was a pause and when Shoto spoke again his anger had faltered slightly. "News from The Underground published it last night."
"What?" Ren put him on speaker, her fingers flying across her phone screen to search for the article. She sank further onto her bed, the soft mattress catching her weight as her eyes skimmed words that did, indeed, sound like they could have come from her pen. The familiar cadence, the pointed criticism, the call for change - it was unnervingly similar to her writing style. But she had never heard of this publication, some uncensored, unregulated online news outlet that barely got any traffic until 12 hours ago. As her shock subsided, the sting of the venom in Shoto's voice at the beginning of the call still stung, sharp and cold in her chest. "You think I did this?" A pause.
"It reads like you wrote it," came his justification. "It's the tape you had from the villain."
"Well, I didn't fucking write it." Her voice hardened like steel replacing silk. "And I may not have been the only one with a copy of this tape." Shoto's silence spoke volumes. Ren stared at her reflection in her vanity mirror, watching her own face crumple with hurt and disbelief. The girl looking back at her seemed younger somehow, more vulnerable than she'd felt in years. Tears of hurt pricked in the corner of her eyes. All the excitement she had felt, so ready and willing to be completely vulnerable in front of him, melted away. "After everything we've said to each other, done for each other..." Her voice trembled. "In that meeting with your dad, we came up with a plan... you think I, what exactly... betrayed you?" She couldn't quite believe what was happening.
"It really reads like you-" Ren cut him off with a laugh of disbelief; why was he so willing to assume the worst of her?
"How could you ever think I would lie to you like that?" She felt her throat constrict as tears threatened to fall. She'd called him to say she loved him and now all she felt was a hollow ache where those words had been waiting.
"You're impulsive, Ren-"
"Not when it comes to us!" Her voice rose with anger replacing the hurt. "Not when it's something that could put you in any danger. I actually fucking thought you knew me-"
"Ren, you have to understand-"
"That you think I'm chaos personified and would rather chase a story and endanger society and you, because I'm that self-possessed?" Her words came fast now, heated with fury and disappointment. "A spoilt princess who gets her way, right? Did you even see the other article?"
"What article?"
"The one about me being in love." The words felt stupid now, childish in the face of his anger, but she needed to know what he thought. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she waited for his response.
"What does that have to do with anything? This is important, Ren." The dismissal in his voice, so similar to her father's, made her blood run cold. She nodded gently, her fingers tracing the burn on her neck unconsciously, remembering another time she'd felt this helpless. Nothing comes before hero work.
"Right," she said clearly, "understood. Are we done here?"
"Ren, don't be childish."
"Yeah, we're fucking done here."
Ren ended the call, her phone dropping onto her lap as tears finally spilled over. It felt fitting somehow - everything that had seemed so clear, so certain just moments ago, was now lost in a haze of hurt and betrayal.
The old oak tree between their properties stood as a dark shadow in the fog, its bare branches reaching towards her balcony like grasping fingers. How many times had they climbed that tree as children? How many secrets had they shared across that fence? And now, on the eve of their twentieth birthday, when they were supposed to be running away together, everything was falling apart.
She'd woken up this morning worried about her father discovering her secret, about the world learning of her love before Shoto could. Instead, she'd discovered that the boy she loved, the one person she thought truly understood her, could believe her capable of such betrayal. The irony wasn't lost on her - she'd been so concerned about protecting their secret that she hadn't realised there might be nothing to protect.
Her reflection caught her eye - tear-stained cheeks, silk robe, the burn on her neck that still tingled. How funny that both her father and Shoto saw her the same way - impulsive, chaotic, needing to be controlled. One wanted the perfect heiress, the other wanted... well, clearly not what she had been about to offer him. Fine. They wanted composure over chaos? Polish over passion? Then that's exactly what they would get. Ren straightened her shoulders and looked at the lilac dress waiting for her. Time to give them the perfect, porcelain princess they thought they knew.
The evening of Ren Ishikawa's twentieth birthday party saw her family's estate glitter like something out of a fairy tale. Paper lanterns strung between ancient cherry trees cast a warm glow over the grounds, their light reflecting off the frost-kissed grass and sparkling water features that were dotted throughout the gardens. The January air was unusually warm - either the Ishikawas had enough money to control the weather, or they'd hired someone with that particular quirk for the evening. The manor itself loomed against the darkening sky, its gothic architecture softened by twinkling lights and flowing silk banners in shades of lilac and silver. There was music in the air, the smell of food and winter flowers. Crystal champagne fountains bubbled endlessly, servers in pristine white uniforms weaved through the crowd with trays of delicious hors d'oeuvres. Delicate ice sculptures dotted the landscape, catching the light and throwing rainbow prisms across the gathered crowds.
Pro heroes mingled with celebrities and politicians - Present Mic's distinctive laugh carried across the crowd, his usual leather replaced with a golden suit that caught the light. Midnight attracted admiring glances in her floor-length burgundy gown, while Mt. Lady blew kisses at the press as they thrust themselves against the fence that gave a limited view into the party. Even Aizawa had made an appearance, looking uncomfortable but dignified in a black suit, his capture weapon notably absent, his usually unkempt hair tied back neatly.
The guest list read like a who's who of Japanese society - movie stars, business tycoons, political figures, all gathered to celebrate the Ishikawa heiress's twentieth birthday. Camera flashes punctuated the evening like artificial stars, each moment documented for tomorrow's society pages.
Shoto Todoroki, the handsome young hero-in-training, garnered shouts from the press, heads turned from guests at the sound of his name, as he walked through the gates to enter the Ishikawa grounds. He couldn't remember a time he had ever used the front door to this place; it felt strange, to be a stranger. Although, deep down, he had a feeling it was his own fault for feeling this way. He walked between his siblings, Fuyumi in a sleek black dress with red accents that reminded him of their shared heritage, Natsuo in a charcoal suit that made him look older than his years. Their father strode ahead of them, his formal wear doing little to diminish his imposing presence. Shoto tugged at his own tie, the navy silk feeling too tight against his throat. His conversation with Ren from that morning weighed heavily on his mind, each word replaying like a broken record.
Why had he been so quick to distrust her? Perhaps it was the weight of his training, the constant vigilance required of heroes-in-training, he was always on the look out for some kind of threat. Or maybe it was deeper than that - a fear of being vulnerable, of letting someone close enough to hurt him. He had been so angry at any possibility that she may have betrayed him, at the possibility that he cold have been fooled by her. It was almost as though he had forgotten her and started listening to his father, his commanding voice reminding him that affection was nothing but weakness…had he become weak because of Ren?
No, not according to Midoriya. Ren had always been chaos incarnate, but she was Shoto's kind of chaos. She challenged him, pushed him, made him question everything he thought he knew. She was the battlefield outside of hero work, he learnt about himself, others, about love and trust and empathy because she forced him to. Ren had taken on that role gladly but had always been a little gentle with him, more understanding, more caring than he sometimes deserved…because she trusted him to do the right thing, be a better person. And this morning, he had thrown that trust back in her face, had let his own insecurities overshadow everything they'd built together.
"Todoroki!"
The call pulled him from his thoughts. His classmates approached, all dressed in their formal best. They all looked a little out of place, Midoriya's dark green suit matched his hair but appeared to make him physically uncomfortable. While Uraraka pulled down the hem of her pink cocktail dress, a permanent blush spread across her cheeks. The young heroes in training were not quite professionals, not quite adults, feeling overwhelmed by the glamour of the evening that they were unaccustomed to. On the groups edge, Bakugo lingered in his dark suit, hands stuffed in his suit pockets while Kirishima, like a pendulum, swung between admiring the manly strong trees of the estate and trying to convince Bakugo to try the fancy looking sushi.
Shoto caught his father's disapproving look as he moved to join his friends, but he ignored it. He knew what Endeavor wanted - for him to stay close to Ren, to use their connection for the agency's benefit. The thought made him feel sick, especially after how he'd treated her that morning. He just needed to see her, look at her, have her smile at him in that way that made him weak. He just needed Ren to be Ren around him, to take her hand and reassure her they would be running away very soon.
"Can you believe people live here? A human actually lives here?" Kaminari said in awe, tugging awkwardly at his rented tuxedo.
Taking in the star-studded guest list, the giant manor in front of them, the free flowing champagne, Mineta jumped and waved his arms hurriedly in front of his classmates. "Everybody be cooler than we are!" He cried before attempting to mimic Shoto's aloof stance.
"This is trippy!" Hagakure squealed with delight, angling her body towards the food stalls but turning her head to observe how handsome Shoto looked, unaware that her dangling earrings gave away the positioning of her head. "It's so weird to see All Might talking to pop stars or…to know that Aizawa owns a suit."
"Oh my God," Mina's cry captured the class' attention, "look, it's Ren!"
They turned as one towards the manor's entrance and Shoto's breath caught in his throat. Ren stood at the top of the stairs, a vision in flowing lilac chiffon. Her dress seemed to hug her figure in a way that made it difficult to tear your eyes away from her, while somehow managing to float around her, as though gravity did not affect her like normal humans. The chiffon was embellished with delicate butterflies and shooting stars that caught the light with every movement. Her dark hair fell in perfect waves, diamonds glittering at her throat and ears like captured starlight. She stood beside her father, greeting All Might and the mayor with practiced grace, every inch the media princess she was raised to be.
"Woah," Tokoyami shuddered suddenly, "did anyone else feel the temperature drop just then?"
"She looks beautiful," Yaoyorozu gasped although she did not look too different from Ren that evening, standing tall and stunning in a white gown.
Mina sighed and nodded in agreement; "like a fairy princess."
"Really?" Uraraka tilted her head, observing Ren thoughtfully. "I think she looks kinda sad."
Shoto studied Ren's face, noticing what Uraraka had seen - the slight strain around her eyes, the way her smile didn't quite reach them, the tension in her shoulders that most would mistake for perfect posture. She played her part perfectly, laughing and charming everyone around her, but he knew her well enough to see the cracks in her facade. Each perfect smile felt like a knife in his chest, knowing he had contributed to putting it there. Without turning his head, feeling his heart both warm at the sight of her and turn cold knowing what had transpired between them that morning, he muttered:
"Stop looking at me, Midoriya."
"Right, yep, sorry!" Midoriya blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and proceeding to stare at the sky.
"I'm pretty sure I'm going to marry her," Kaminari declared dreamily, adjusting his crooked bowtie.
"She doesn't even know your name," Jirou scoffed.
"She can call me whatever she likes."
The party continued in full swing. Shoto's classmates moved through the crowd, alternating between being starstruck by pro heroes and intimidated by the sheer opulence surrounding them. Tsuyu and Uraraka gorged on various desserts while Iida lectured them about proper etiquette. Bakugo had finally been convinced to try some food, though he complained loudly about the small portion sizes. Shoto remained on the periphery, as he usually did at public events, very content to be in the company of his friends. He felt no pressure to talk, no need to make an insincere effort too interact with anyone. Although he was very taken aback when a slightly tipsy Fuyumi ruffled his hair as she walked past him or when Natsuo used Shoto's reputation to impress a few socialites in tight dresses.
Despite these strange, interesting developments, Shoto fond it difficult to take his eyes off Ren, watching as she worked the crowd. The girl in lilac and diamonds never looked his way, never gave him that come hither glance, those mischievous smirks she saved just for him. She never once came up to say hello of let her fingers brush against him, letting the sensation of her touch crawl up his arm and down his spine, waking him up, making him ache for her hours before they could be together. There was nothing, no affection, no smiles, no making eyes at him, This wasn't his Ren - this was someone else entirely, a carefully constructed image that made his heart ache.
As the evening wore on, Class 1-A found themselves stood, yet again, slightly awkwardly in the grand entrance to Ishikawa manor, admiring the art collection, family heirlooms and television awards that littered the walls. To their surprise, Ren, being hurried from one room to another by a publicist, almost collided with class, her lilac dress swishing around her ankles as she steadied herself. Ren let the perfectly crafted socialite mask slip, genuine warmth spreading across her features as she recognised them.
"Hi!" She breathed, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she took in the overwhelmed looks on their faces; she felt like she knew them all so well after hours of talking to Shoto about UA, but of course they didn't know that. Her eyes swept over the group, taking in their formal wear with obvious delight. "You all look amazing! Yaoyorozu, that dress is absolutely stunning."
"Thank you," Yaoyorozu smiled, smoothing down her white gown. "Though I feel a bit out of place-"
"Trust me," Ren laughed, "half the people here are wearing designer labels they can't pronounce. At least you carry it naturally." She turned to Uraraka and Tsuyu, gesturing to the appetizer in their hands. "Did you try the fancy tuna yet? The chef is some prodigy from London, but honestly, I just want a drink-"
"I'll get you a drink," Kaminari said suddenly, freezing instantly as Ren threw her dark hair over her shoulder and flashed him a smile.
"Thanks, Kaminari," she said before taking the untouched drink in his hands and downing it in one. She winked at him as she handed it to a passing waiter. She could sense Shoto shifting uncomfortably at the edge of the group, the temperature dropping slightly around him.
"Everything's so expensive-looking," Uraraka admitted, fidgeting with her pink dress. "I'm afraid to touch anything."
"Oh, if you're going to break anything please break that monstrosity," the group turned as Ren gestured to the most magnificent grandfather clock they had ever seen. "It's mocked me since childhood," Bakugo's eyes lit up for the first time that evening, as though someone had finally started speaking his language.
"I'll break it-!"
"Bakugo, no!" the entire group, bar Shoto, tried to restrain him as Ren laughed, her diamond earrings catching the light. Throughout the exchange, Ren carefully avoided looking at Shoto, though the way she angled her body slightly away from him didn't go unnoticed. The temperature around them seemed to fluctuate subtly, neither hot nor cold but somehow both at once. She could feel his eyes on her, tracing her collarbone like they usual did, seeing right through her like he always could. But she could not bring herself to look at him.
As guests were ushered by staff outside, class 1-A found themselves unwilling to leave the guest of honour; Ren was so charming and sweet, down to earth and funny, and she actually wanted to hang out with them! Someone they knew walked into the manor, looking resplendent and psychedelic as always, Bubbles commanded attention in a bright pink sequinned, fishtail dress. Like a 70's Barbie doll she smiled broadly at class 1-A and greeted them with familiarity.
"Hey, heroes!" Bubbles said brightly, her colleagues, Ryu and Kaito trailing behind her in classic black tie. Ren smiled and waved at the two men and apologised for not greeting them until now. Bubbles grabbed Ren's arm and pulled her in close, "Mizuki's going crazy," she whispered, "she told me to tell you that It's time for the fireworks display."
"I'll be right there," Ren replied, gesturing for class 1-A to follow Bubbles and her fellow journalists outside. The hallway emptied, Ren continued to thank guests as they walked passed her. Eventually Ren found herself in an empty house, she tilted her head back, let out a breath and stretched her neck. She turned back to the doors determinedly, ready to face the public again.
But she instantly froze as, from the shadows of the large mansion doors, Shoto emerged like a villain in a movie. She appraised him with apathy from across the marble floors, their reflections staring at them in gilded mirrors. The air was cold, the house was dark, only filled with the words they were not saying to each other. His handsome face looked both hurt and determined but she didn't want to deal with him right now, didn't want to be dragged back into loving him, wanting him, when the public was waiting for her outside.
"Can I get past, please?" Ren asked, attempting to move around him, the chiffon of her dress rustling softly. Shoto stepped in the same direction, straight into her path. Finally, she looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time that evening. Her eyes were sparkling as he stared down at her, either unwilling or unable to speak. "Move." When he didn't budge, Ren's anger got the better of her and, just as when they were children, she lifted her hands and tried to shove him out of the way. But to Shoto, her strength was nothing, not a red or white hair on his head moved, he just looked down at her with a small smile of nostalgia. She tried again with the same result, her hands warm against his chest.
"What the fuck are you made of?" She demanded, frustration evident in her voice as she put all of her weight into it. Instead of answering, he grabbed her wrist and began pulling her towards a nearby drawing room. She protested, twisted her arm, tried to dig her heels into the marble floor somehow, but he created a thin sheet of ice to help slide her along with him, the cold surface glinting in the dim light.
He practically threw her into the room and it took Ren a second to regain her balance, her hair a little out of place after their struggle. She was breathing heavily, staring at him as though she'd never seen him before. The room was dark except for the light filtering in from the hanging lanterns outside. Bookshelves lined the walls, their leather-bound contents barely visible in the dim light. The room smelled of old paper and polish, a sanctuary of quiet in the midst of the party's chaos. The bass from the music stage vibrated in the walls.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ren demanded, her voice echoing slightly in the large space.
"What am I doing?" Shoto asked in disbelief, standing tall in his dark suit, "how are you acting?"
"Like a spoilt princess who gets everything she wants," came the predictable but unwanted reply. Angry tears glittered in Ren's eyes, catching the light like the diamonds she wore. "Don't you recognise me?" She asked mockingly, "You seemed to know this version of me pretty fucking well this morning." The guilt was overwhelming now, watching her hurt so clearly displayed beneath her perfect facade. The prettiest thing he had ever seen, was waiting for the world to stop watching so she could fall apart, all because of him.
"Ren," he said hoarsely, "I'm sorry for what I said."
"How could you say those things to me?" She turned to look out the window, unable to face him, to look at him. He was devastatingly, painfully handsome. How was it fair that he could look like that, be everything she wanted, make her fall hopelessly in love with him, and then treat her like a complete stranger?
"I don't know how to do this, Ren," Shoto said softly. "I don't know how to be close to someone. you teach me how to do that, I need you to do it again," she knew it was true, knew that he needed her, just a much as she needed him. "I saw something and assumed I understood what had happened-"
"You should know me by now," she interrupted, though he could sense her softening. "You should trust me."
"I do." He placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "Please forgive me."
Outside, on the perfectly manicured lawns, Class 1-A gathered at the edge of the crowd, not wanting to force themselves into the heart of the party but eagerly awaiting what was promised to be quite the display. Even Bakugo stood eagerly awaiting the explosions yet to come, his nose sniffing the air for any trace of gunpowder, already muttering how he could do it better.
Next to him, offering words of validation and encouragement, Kirishima reached for a passing canapé. It almost escaped him as the server moved swiftly towards a slightly tipsy Midnight and Mt Lady, but Kirishima managed to turn in time and grab one triumphantly. He hadn't realised that he had practically turned back to the house as he eyed his duck spring roll eagerly. Popping it into his mouth, savouring the sweet tang of the hoisin sauce, his smile faded as he glanced up at the manor. He almost choked on the food in his mouth, swallowing hard before his jaw dropped and he pointed a shaking hand back at the manor.
"Someone tell me I'm not crazy," he said, the group around him noticing his suddenly panicked state. "What the hell is that? What the hell am I looking at?" Class 1-A, slightly irritated that they may miss the fireworks, turned back towards the manor and followed Kirishima's gaze to a darkened window where two figures were clearly visible against the glow of the lanterns.
"Is that..." Jirou squinted as Mina put a hand on her shoulder and went up on her tip toes.
"Ren and…"
"Todoroki?" Sero finished, hurriedly swallowing a mouthful of food.
In the middle of the group, unnoticed by their class, Iida and Midoriya exchanged knowing looks, trying to appear casual and failing miserably.
"I think the fireworks are starting soon," Midoriya suggested weakly. "Maybe we should move to get a better view."
But no one was listening, all eyes fixed on the window across the grounds.
"Do they... know each other?" Hagakure wondered aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
In the library, Ren looked into Shoto's eyes and felt her anger melting away. He was new to this, to feeling, to being close to someone and yet here he was, trying, for her. The diamonds at her throat caught the light as she tilted her head back to look at him, her dress whispering against the oriental rug. His pretty face looked down at her in a way that made her fall in love all over again; the softness in his eyes, the warmth in his body calling her home. It was impossible not to be completely in love with him. He saw the feeling in her eyes shift to forgiveness.
Without warning, as the first firework exploded in the sky, illuminating the room in bursts of colour, Shoto cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. The light from outside painted them in shades of gold and silver, a perfect picture framed by the window, their silhouettes clear against the brilliant display of light and fire.
Outside, frozen in stunned silence, Class 1-A watched Shoto Todoroki kiss Ren Ishikawa as if he'd done it a thousand times before.
This story is. So. Much. FUN.
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