There was nothing unusual about that afternoon. The common room of the U.A. dorms was filled with the usual noise: Bakugo shouting at Kaminari, Mina scrolling through her phone while kicking her feet against the couch, and Iida scolding someone for leaving their shoes in the walkway. The air smelled like microwave popcorn and whatever Sero had burned in the kitchen earlier.

Shoto Todoroki stood near the windows, his arms loose at his sides, his gaze fixed on the doorway like he'd been waiting for someone. He didn't always announce himself when he entered a room. He simply appeared, quiet as ever, and let his presence settle beside the people he trusted.

But today, his mismatched eyes found Y/n almost immediately. And he didn't look away.

The question hung in the air, quiet and heavy. A few feet away, Momo Yaoyorozu looked up from the bookshe'd been reading, her expression gentle but curious. She'd noticed the distance too. Everyone had, in their own way, even if no one said it aloud.

She closed her book and stood, joining Shoto near the windows with an easy, practiced grace. They made a striking pair—calm, composed, and far too good at looking like they belonged together.

Neither of them knew the truth. Shoto didn't know that every time he spoke about Momo, Y/n smiled through a quiet kind of ache. Momo didn't know that her happiness was the very thing Y/n was trying to smile through. And neither of them understood why the space between them suddenly felt so wide.

The word "friends" landed softly. Inoffensively. The way it always did.

Across the room, Kirishima paused mid-conversation with Kaminari, glancing toward the windows. Mina nudged Jiro with her elbow, her golden eyes full of barely concealed curiosity. Even Bakugo, slouched in a chair with his arms crossed, was watching through narrowed eyes, though he said nothing.

The moment stretched, waiting.