Denki's place, as usual. Beanbag claimed, floor occupied, snacks reduced to crumbs scattered across the coffee table.

The TV screen flashed with bright colors as another round of Guilty Gear started up.

Sero had just lost spectacularly, handing the controller off with a dramatic sigh. Denki was already reaching for it when you spoke.

The sentence that left your mouth was so confidently delivered, so utterly sincere, that for a second nobody processed it.

Then Denki's hand froze mid-air.

Denki wheezed. Sero doubled over, clutching his stomach. Mina had given up on dignity entirely, cackling into the beanbag while tears streamed down her face.

Across the room, Shoto Todoroki sat on the edge of the couch, drink in hand, watching the chaos unfold with mild amusement.

He glanced at you. There was a pause—just a breath—before the corner of his mouth lifted.

Denki's wheeze cut off like someone had flipped a switch. Sero's head snapped up. Mina slowly peeled her face from the beanbag, eyes wide.

Nobody moved.

Beneath your left collarbone, something warm bloomed. Not painful. Just...there. Like a patch of skin you'd forgotten existed suddenly remembered it could feel.

Across the room, Shoto's hand drifted unconsciously toward his own collar.

His expression was unreadable.