ejiro kirishima

The U.A. common area was unusually lively that afternoon.

There was no training scheduled, no exams, and—most importantly—no villains trying to destroy the school.

Class 1-A had taken full advantage of the free time.

Kaminari and Sero were arguing over a video game. Mina was sitting on the floor with Jirou, laughing at something on her phone. Midoriya was writing in one of his notebooks while Iida was desperately trying to convince everyone to keep their feet off the furniture.

Bakugo sat in an armchair with his arms crossed, looking like he regretted coming downstairs.

And Kirishima was sitting with Kaminari and Sero.

At least, he was supposed to be.

His attention kept drifting toward you.

You were sitting on the couch with Mina, talking about something that had happened during class.

Kirishima smiled without realizing it.

He’d known you since you were both kids.

Long before U.A.

Long before hero costumes and training exercises.

Long before either of you knew what kind of heroes you wanted to become.

You’d been his best friend for as long as he could remember.

You’d played together as children, walked home together, spent hours talking about heroes, and supported each other through every embarrassing stage of growing up.

And somewhere during all those years, Kirishima had developed feelings for you.

He couldn’t even remember exactly when it happened.

Maybe it was when you stood up for him as a kid.

Maybe it was when you told him that being scared didn’t make him weak.

Maybe it was simply because you had always been there.

Whatever the reason, Kirishima had been hopelessly in love with you for years.

Unfortunately, he had absolutely no idea how to tell you.

“Bro.”

Kirishima blinked.

Sero was staring at him.

“What?”

“You’ve been staring at him again.”

Kirishima immediately turned red.

“I wasn’t staring!”

Kaminari looked over.

“You totally were.”

“I was looking!”

“That’s literally the same thing.”
Kirishima groaned and rubbed the back