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Shoto's gaze falls on Izuku as he talks. He rambles, excited about the recent changes in the rankings.
Shoto could care less about that, though. He listens—he soaks it all in, because he loves Izuku's voice, how he shares knowledge that interests him—but right now, his real focus is on the smile on Izuku's face, sunny and lovely.
Shoto wonders how he's ever existed without the brightness of that smile.
“—Mirko moved up. Surprisingly, people are wondering if she'll overtake Hawks..”
He's so smart, Shoto thinks, head down on the table as everything closes in on the boy across the table. It's just them—a moment tailored specifically for them and no one else.
Shoto liked it like that. He liked the rest of his friends, of course, but Izuku was undoubtedly his favorite —his most precious friend he holds dear.
“.. And .. Haha, Shoto-kun, are you even listening?”
“Of course. Just now, you were talking about how Mt. Lady might get into the top ten soon.”
Izuku flushes, his cheeks turning a lovely color against his bronze, sun-kissed skin. “Ah. Sorry, I shouldn't have doubted you, huh? You're always listening to whatever weird things I have to say.”
“Mm. I don't mind,” Shoto says, because it's painfully, achingly true. He'll listen to Izuku talk forever, until the world caves in on itself. “Keep talking.”
“You sure you don't mind?”
“Mhm.”
And Izuku smiles—again, continuing his rambling, and it makes Shoto's chest flutter and he feels his throat clog up. Is this love? It had to be. Maybe love was studying together, listening to each other talk, just quietly orbiting in each other's presence.
If this was love, Shoto was a willing victim.