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As Shouto was preparing to go to sleep, he was doing his routine procedures—close the curtains, clean out his desk, prepare his school bag for the following day—he’s done it so many times now that it turned into a comfortable way of relaxing, even if it was just tidying up.
Unexpectedly, a rhythmic knock tapped on his door. Shouto replied: “It’s open.”
Expectedly, the door swung open. Expectedly, Shouto perked up at the sight of you.
“Sorry for intruding～” You leaned on the door lazily, still holding the knob on your right hand as your left held your comfiest pillow. You offered a thin-lined smile. “I’m sleeping here.”
Shouto nodded. “Ok.”
Cleary half-asleep, maybe still dreaming, you walked slowly into his room and shut the door behind you.
Shouto covertly smiled. A small smile, as he was. He started his unexpectedly expected routine procedures: As you slowly moved his desk to the corner, he would take out and roll the futon from his closet onto the floor, right next to his bed and drape one of his extra blankets on top of it. You’ve been here so many times that Shouto was used to working in tandem. He relaxed easily at your careful routine.
Shouto sat on his bed, propping his elbow up on the headboard.
Expectedly, you dropped your pillow on the futon. Expectedly, you sat criss-cross-apple-sauce on top of the neatly arranged blanket, facing towards him.
You looked at him drowsily. Shouto rested his chin on his palm. He wondered what you wanted to talk about this time. He loved the way you both could ease into easy conversation until one of you fell asleep. Sometimes it was him, most times you. Either way, you’d both wake up with the lights turned off, with a blanket tucked up to the chin, and a tingling sensation on the forehead.
Unexpectedly, he caught your eye. Unexpectedly, he found himself saying: “You—”
“You’re beautiful.”
Shouto’s eyes widened slightly, hearing his words echoed back to him. Admiration laced in your words. He blinked. His lips minisculely parted. A heat crept up from his neck to his cheeks.
And yet, he couldn’t bear to shrug off that warmth, so in turn, Shouto smiled warmly. “You’re a beautiful person,” he said.
Your brows furrowed, and your face blushes all over.
“Ah, damn it—” You hang your head to cover your face with your hands. “You were about to say it first, weren’t you?”
Shouto laughed. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Stop—No—You’re not allowed to say those things—”
“This is my room,” Shouto argued. “And you just said those words as well.”
“Because you are beautiful.”
“Ah. You’re not allowed to say those things.”
“Stop that.”
Shouto chuckled. He had felt his breath warm against his palm. His face must have been flushing for it to have done that.
He glanced back at you and there began what you came here for. You lied on the futon and started talking.
You asked him how he was— “Good,” —and if he was ready for Hero Training the next day: “I am.” To which you replied: “Of course you are,” with admiration clear in your tone—something he was noticing much more often than he’d like to as it didn’t help the heat finding its way back on his neck.
“I wonder what it takes to catch you off guard,” you mused aloud.
“There are a handful of things that do,” Shouto responded. They came to his mind at that moment: Hot noodles, the sincerity in your voice when you compliment him, your strange timing for jokes, and recently, silence.
“Really? Do tell ♪ ”
“Absolutely not,” Shouto said.
You huffed. “Oh, come on.”
You changed the topic, then again, and then Shouto changed the topic as well. Ah, there it was. That ease he feels. From the conversation, from looking at you, it made him sigh in relief. Shouto remembered finding it strange the first time—he didn’t know how to react to the sore throat he gets just from responding to your first few questions, or to the comforting silence. He learned in time that he didn’t have to react, because in time, it was second nature.
Shouto wouldn’t have minded this to go on forever.
All of a sudden, there was that silence. A few moments passed without a word. Shouto spoke your name softly in question and glanced at you. It seems you had taken the initiative to get comfy despite saying minutes prior “I’m not sleepy,” and then “I’ll rest my eyes for a second.”
Expectedly, you had fallen asleep. He breathed out his nose, feeling his throat ache a little.
Back to the routine, Shouto expected. He stood up from his bed, making sure to carefully step over your sleeping figure and promptly shut the lights. The only light that came then was from a crack in his curtains, slicing through the dark with a line of silver.
Shouto gently pulled the blanket from under you and draped it over your body, right up to your chin. From this angle—crouched down near you—he could see the moonlight on your cheek. He leaned down, cupping the moonlight with the palm of his hand, and he pressed his lips on your forehead.
Shouto stared at you through the dim lighting for a second, sighing to himself.
As he lay down on his bed, his fingers absentmindedly wandered to his forehead. You had done the same thing, you. It was routine. Shouto felt his heart weigh heavier in his chest but not with melancholy. So he smiled, thankful. …For what?
…For you, he concluded.
With a satisfied mind, Shouto whispered: “Sleep well.”
In the morning, Shouto found his futon and blanket folded neatly on top of one another. His fingers grazed his forehead once more, feeling a tingling sensation.