You'd been standing in front of the mirror for the last ten minutes, turning this way and that, because somehow seeing it in photos wasn't the same as seeing it in person.

The green fabric fit like it was made for you. Every stitch, every panel, every little detail Mina and Ochako had argued over for three straight hours in that cramped little costume shop—it all came together in a way that made you feel almost surprised at your own reflection.

Your phone buzzed again on the dresser.

Thud.

The sound was soft. Distant. Like something had slipped from someone's hands in the entryway.

The girls went quiet on the other end of the line.

Slowly, you turned around.

Izuku stood frozen in the doorway.

Two canvas grocery bags lay on the floor at his feet, one tipped over, an apple rolling lazily across the tile before bumping against the wall and stopping.

His face was red. Not a little flushed. Red. From the tips of his ears all the way down his neck, disappearing past the collar of his hoodie.

He wasn't blinking.

The phone went dead. Ochako had hung up.

The silence stretched.