Chapter 2

There’s no room for Shouto at the lunch table Midoriya sits at when he gets there. Other classmates have already filled the seats, and Shouto chews on the inside of his cheek as he stands idly a few meters behind the table, holding his tray in both hands.

Midoriya has so many friends. Does he know them all like he knows Shouto?

Shouto turns on his heel to go sit alone somewhere—thinking that whatever Midoriya wanted to talk about probably isn’t too important, since Midoriya didn’t actively seek him out—but just as he’s heading off, he instead halts at the call of his name.

He turns around to see Midoriya standing from his seat at the table, his lunch tray in tow. Midoriya gives a brief goodbye to his friends at the table before he starts in Shouto’s direction.

“Were you going to sit alone?” Midoriya inquires once he stands next to Shouto.

Shouto’s grip on his tray tightens along with the vines in his chest, and he swallows harshly under Midoriya’s curious emerald gaze.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Midoriya tilts his head, and his unruly hair flops at the movement.

Shouto’s throat feels suddenly dry. “The table was full.”

“Oh,” Midoriya breathes glancing back at the table. “Right. Well, I’m going to sit with you, if that’s alright?”

Shouto nods, eying the mess hall for a free place for them to sit. When he spots one, he begins to walk towards it, and Midoriya follows him.

“Besides, I need to talk to you, remember?”

Shouto nods curtly before sliding onto a chair on one side of an empty end of a table. Midoriya sits on the other side, drumming his fingers unrhythmically on the tabletop.

Shouto doesn’t bother wondering why his heart is pounding in his chest. He just hopes Midoriya can’t hear it—won’t ask why. It’s you, he could never respond. You make me feel like this, you know?

“It’s just…” Midoriya trails, his pointer finger scratching absently at his freckled cheek. “You might think this is kind of stupid, but I heard some of the girls talking about having sleepovers and well, I thought that since—you know—that maybe you’ve never had a sleepover before? Ex—Excuse me if I’m being presumptuous—”

“I haven’t,” Shouto cuts into Midoriya’s monologue. “It’s fine. I haven’t.”

“Would you want to?” Midoriya’s voice is careful and Shouto’s heart does something stupid in his chest.

“You want to have a sleepover with me?” Shouto asks, attempting to somehow disguise his disbelief by lifting his hand to adjust his bangs, but failing as his tone of voice gives it away.

“I—Yeah. If you want. I think it would be fun.” Midoriya doesn’t meet Shouto’s eyes, just watches himself as he twirls his chopsticks around in his food.

Shouto stares at the way Midoriya’s hair falls in front of his face as he looks down. “Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah? You want to?”

Shouto’s breath catches in his throat as Midoriya looks up at him and beams, and he doesn’t think he could do anything else but nod.