Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun was beating down on the U.A. training grounds, making every bolt of lightning seem to want to melt into my skin. The atmosphere was transformed into a heavy blanket of heat and humidity, and, although I had already begun to sweat before I even started the practice, I knew that my body did not react to the heat; it was because of him. By Mirio. That unstoppable figure, whose smile had the power to melt even the asphalt under our feet, igniting in me a mixture of admiration, desire and fear.

“Come on, Tamaki! You're not going to run away today!” His voice resounded with contagious energy, as he stretched his arms towards me in a gesture as spontaneous as it was warm, as if he wanted to envelop me in that light that only he knew how to radiate. His tone, always full of vitality, made each word seem part of a show that only he could star in, and in that instant, I became the spectator and the involuntary accomplice of his inexhaustible charisma.

Obviously, I shrank even more, trying to protect myself from the storm of emotions that overwhelmed me. My heart raced uncontrollably, pounding hard, reminding me that, despite my attempts to hide it, every palpitation was a silent cry in honor of Mirio. He was like the sun: bright, warm, inescapable. And I... I felt like a wandering shadow, unable to escape its radiance, but also afraid of being extinguished in its orbit.

“No... I'm not running away.” I murmured in a trembling voice, though my feet single-handedly decided to take a step back. Every fiber of my being vibrated with doubt: could he notice that little hesitation? Of course he could feel it. Mirio seemed to have an internal radar, capable of detecting even the slightest of my insecurities, without ever taking advantage of them, always ready to reach out to me, to give me his smile and to offer me a little of that light that I longed for so much.

“That's the spirit!” he exclaimed, completely ignoring my clumsiness, advancing towards me with that unshakable confidence that only he possessed. It seemed that the whole universe revolved around him, and I, in silence, was content to be the shadow that followed him, trying, unsuccessfully, to steal a little of his prominence.

In the heat of combat, I tried to dodge his first blow with a movement that, although clumsy, was filled with an urgency that pushed me not to give up. I felt my Quirk, Manifest, activate almost instinctively, letting a squid-like tentacle sprout from my arm. However, my efforts were thwarted when I completely failed to use it to block its attack. Mirio's laughter, always so cheerful and carefree, intertwined with my own feelings, making me feel at the same time as if I were floating in the air and falling into an abyss of emotions.

“You almost got it, Tamaki!” he exclaimed, dodging my next attempt with almost magical ease. His Quirk, Permeation, made him almost untouchable, allowing him to vanish as if the laws of physics were just a rumor. As I watched him move, I couldn't help but wonder silently if those same rules didn't apply to the inexplicable that happened inside me, in my heart, when his blue eyes fell on me.

“I'm not... I'm not as good as you.” I murmured, feeling the burning of the heat invade my cheeks, not only from the physical exertion, but from the way he watched me. Those eyes, so intense and full of life, seemed to know every corner of what I was trying to hide, illuminating parts of me that I would prefer to keep in the shadows.

“Nonsense!” he replied, stopping suddenly. His smile softened into a gesture that, for a brief moment, revealed a more serious and vulnerable side of him. “You're amazing, Tamaki. Don't compare yourself to me. I'm just... well, I. But you... You have something special.”

Those words hit me with the force of an unexpected punch, but not in the way one would feel when receiving one of his usual energetic blows. This time, it was different: it was a caress, a barrage of praise that, at the same time, disarmed me and filled me with uncontrollable fear. Every time he praised me, I felt like the small structure I had built inside me to protect my feelings was crumbling, shaking and helpless, reminding me from the first day I met him.

“Don't say that just to cheer me up.” I murmured, looking away, unable to hold his direct gaze. It was like trying to watch the sun: the longer you did it, the more dangerous it became, and I was afraid of being blinded by so much light.

“Of course not!” He answered, letting out a laugh that this time sounded softer, almost tender. “You know I always speak my mind, Tamaki. And I think you're amazing.”

His words stayed echoing in my mind, mingling with the incessant drumming of my heart. It was amazing how easy it seemed for him to throw compliments, as if nothing mattered, while to me every word was a poignant reminder of the depth of my admiration. Each compliment was, at the same time, a sweet caress and a cruel reminder of how much I longed to be seen by him the same way I saw him.

But, of course, I couldn't tell him. I couldn't risk losing our friendship, seeing that brilliance that made me dream so much fade. So, forcing an inner smile, I simply nodded, as the weight of my feelings piled up on my chest like a rice ball that refused to be digested.

“Come on, again.” he said, resuming his fighting position. His smile, bright as ever, now hid a different gleam in his eyes, one that made me doubt and daydream.

The fight continued, and at that moment I decided to concentrate even more, trying to impress him, even though I knew that beating him was almost impossible. I determinedly activated my Quirk again, transforming my hand into a clamshell, a defensive technique that could also lead to an unexpected counterattack.

Mirio lunged at me with that characteristic speed that made him unmatched, and for the first time I managed to anticipate. I raised my transformed hand just in time to block his punch, feeling for a brief moment the tension between us. However, in the struggle, the sharp edge of the shell brushed against his suit, accidentally tearing it. The sound of the fabric tearing was mixed with an awkward silence that lasted for a few seconds that seemed eternal.

“Oops!” Mirio exclaimed, taking a step back as he examined his chest, where now a small tear revealed his musculature and a slight superficial cut. It wasn't serious, but it was enough to make my mind stop, caught in a maelstrom of guilt and bewilderment.

At that very moment, my heart felt like a porcupine, covered with thorns that I myself had erected to keep others at bay, but at the same time trembling at each touch of his. Each heartbeat was transformed into a pang of guilt mixed with an unspeakable emotion, something I preferred to keep quiet. Mirio laughed, as if nothing had happened, but I couldn't take my eyes off that small fragment of exposed skin, a sight so absurd and ridiculous that it made me feel as if I had made the worst of mistakes.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.” I stammered, as the heat intensified on my face, wishing I could disappear, melt into the ground, and forget that moment. But Mirio, with that carefree laugh that had so often managed to dispel my fears, simply laughed again, leaving me exposed and confused.

“Don't worry, Tamaki.” he said, reaching over and patting me lightly on the shoulder. “It's just a suit. Besides that, what a good move!”

His words, intended to reassure me, only increased my confusion. There he was, his innocent, carefree smile, as if the tear were nothing more than a trivial anecdote, as I struggled to keep my composure and hide the storm of feelings that threatened to bring me down. How could he be so carefree? ¿So... perfect?

“Thank you…” I murmured, looking away again, unable to hold his image directly, not after what had happened, not after I had felt that strange mixture of emotion and guilt that ran through me every time his eyes met mine.

“Well, shall we continue?” He asked, resuming his fighting position again, as if the tension of the moment had dissipated in the air.

As I got back into the workout routine, my mind kept spinning. Every movement, every word of his, was engraved inside me, making my world filled with contradictions. On the one hand, I desperately longed to be reciprocated; on the other, I feared that any revelation might break the fragile stability of our friendship. And so, in the midst of the scorching sun and the incessant swaying of combat, my soul was torn between light and shadow, between the desire to be seen and the fear of losing the only thing that had come to illuminate my days.

The dining room of the U.A. was full of life that afternoon, as usual. The incessant murmurs of conversations, the clinking of trays and cutlery, and the intoxicating aroma of freshly prepared food were intertwined in a daily concert. Normally, this bustle would have been overwhelming, but today my mind was so absorbed that I could barely catch the sounds and smells of the place.

In front of me, Mirio was sitting, devouring his food with the same enthusiasm he applied in every aspect of his life. Every bite seemed to transform into a small celebration, and I couldn't help but fix my gaze on him, even though I knew that it was my duty to tend to my own food. But it was impossible to clear one's mind of how the light of the dining room made his blonde hair shine and how his smile, so natural, flooded everything around him with an incomparable energy.

“Tamaki, you're in the clouds!” Nejire's voice suddenly interrupted, causing me to jump in my seat. She, always so direct, leaned towards me with that curious look that disarmed me in an instant, revealing a mixture of amusement and concern.

“Oh, no, it's just that...” I stammered, looking away hurriedly. How to explain to her what was really on my mind? How could I confess that I still remembered every detail of the training, especially the moment when Mirio's suit was torn, revealing a piece of his chest? That image, impregnated in my memory, accompanied me at every moment and made me feel exposed.

“Are you thinking about today's training?” Mirio asked with his mouth full, still smiling with that lightness that seemed to envelop everything. His tone, carefree and natural, contrasted with the whirlwind of emotions that crowded inside me.

“Yes… something like that.” I muttered as I absentmindedly fiddled with the food on my tray. I didn't have that much of an appetite, but I knew that if I didn't eat something, Nejire wouldn't leave me alone with his incessant comments.

“Oh, yes! It was great!” Nejire exclaimed, banging on the table with such impetus that several students turned their gaze toward our small group. “Although, Tamaki, what was it about ripping Mirio's suit? Are you trying to tell us something?”

I immediately felt the heat catch fire on my cheeks. Nejire, with her almost disarming frankness, made me feel vulnerable. I looked in Mirio's gaze for some sign that would help me, that would rescue me from that uncomfortable situation; however, he only smiled, as if it were all part of a complicit joke.

“It was an accident!” I protested, my voice rising in a higher pitch than usual, in a desperate attempt to justify what had happened. “No... It was not on purpose.”

“Of course it was an accident.” Nejire replied, leaning even closer to me with a mischievous smile, as if she wanted every word to penetrate my defenses. I couldn't help but feel a knot in my stomach; she, without knowing it, exposed the fragility of my feelings towards Mirio.

Mirio's smile, as carefree as usual, changed for an instant. I noticed an inexplicable gleam in his eyes, something that made me question if he was really as distant from my emotions as I thought. With a knowing wink, he commented:

“Well, I'm not complaining. Although, Tamaki, if you wanted to see me shirtless, you just had to say it.”

The comment left me paralyzed; the blush ran through my body and I wished I could disappear at that precise moment. Nejire laughed, one of those joyful laughs that always made me feel even smaller, but at the same time I couldn't stop thinking about the subtle complicity that peeked into Mirio's eyes.

“Relax, Tamaki,” Nejire said, patting me on the back that almost made me stagger in my chair. “we're just kidding. And if you need any flirting tips, you know that we are always willing to help you.”

“I'm not trying to flirt with anyone!” I protested, my voice trembling and full of anxiety. As I spoke, I noticed Mirio watching me for a longer moment than usual. Was I imagining things or was there something different about the way he looked at me?

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find us.” Nejire said, with a smile that, though sparkling, made me feel as if I were on the edge of an emotional precipice.

The rest of the lunch was spent between laughter and jokes, but my mind was fixed on the way Mirio looked at me occasionally. Those intense blue eyes seemed to discover every corner of what I was trying to hide, and with each flash, my secret became more palpable.

Suddenly, Nejire excitedly blurted out:

“Karaoke!”

The word rang in my ears and, in the blink of an eye, my stomach contracted into a knot that was impossible to undo. Nejire, with her sparkling gaze and exaggerated gestures, looked at me as if she had just had the most sensational idea of the universe. I, for one, felt that the idea of singing in front of strangers was a nightmare come true.

“Karaoke?” I asked in a trembling voice, as panic took hold of me. The thought of having to expose my voice, my insecurities to a crowd, made me want to hide under the table.

“Yes, karaoke!” She said, pointing her fork at me as if she were going to throw it at any moment. “We need to let go a little after so much training. And you, Tamaki, really need to come out of your shell. It's the perfect plan to get to meet someone.”

“To meet someone?” I asked in a thin voice, feeling fear creep over me. It wasn't exactly the image I had of a Friday night, nor the kind of fun I wanted to experience.

“Of course!” Mirio interjected, with that casual smile that always seemed to relieve any tension. “You need to get out more, Tamaki. Who knows, maybe you meet an interesting girl.”

Between doubts and fears, I fiddled again with the food on my tray. The idea of spending the night in a crowded place, flashing lights, and loud music didn't fit with my introverted nature. However, the possibility of disappointing Mirio and Nejire prompted me not to say no.

“Come on, Tamaki!” Nejire insisted, leaning toward me with a look that made it clear that she would not take "no" for an answer. “I promise I won't force you to sing if you don't want to, but at least come and enjoy. The three of us are going to have a great time!”

“And if not, you can always stay in a corner and continue eating.” Mirio added, winking at me that made me feel the ground shake under my feet.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of insistence and knowing looks, I relented. I could not contradict the twinkle in my friends' eyes, even though my heart was beating a thousand miles an hour. With a resigned sigh, I nodded.

“Well, well... I'll go.” I said, feeling how each word left a heavy imprint inside me. I wasn't sure if it was the best decision, but at least I knew I wouldn't be alone.

And so, there I was, impeccable in my outfit but with my heart beating wildly, standing in front of the karaoke door. The place was as vibrant as I had imagined: flashing neon lights, loud music, and a group of people immersed in laughter and song inside a private room. As I crossed the threshold, I couldn't help but wonder why I had agreed to come.

What troubled me most, however, was why Nejire and Mirio had been so intent on getting me to join them. "It's the perfect plan to meet someone." Nejire had said, while Mirio, with his usual levity, had added: "Maybe you'll meet an interesting girl!". If only they knew that in my heart, the only person stealing my sleep was Mirio... The mere thought of confessing that secret filled me with terror, as if a black hole was about to engulf me.

How could I explain to them that I wasn't interested in meeting someone else? How could I confess that, from the first moment I saw him, I had not been able to get his smile or his gaze out of my mind? To me, he was like the sun, and I was like a shadow fading before him. But I couldn't tell them. I couldn't risk losing the friendship I held so dear.

With my stomach churning and my heart in a runaway race, I entered the karaoke, feeling that each step brought me closer, at the same time, to a moment that could change everything.

Chapter Text

As I walked through the door of the private karaoke room, I was overcome by a sense of wonder mixed with shyness. Neon lights bathed the space in vibrant flashes, and in the midst of that kaleidoscope of colors, Nejire and Mirio looked like unreal figures. Nejire dazzled in a short, shiny dress that changed hue at every moment, as if it were made of rainbow patches. Her blue hair danced freely, and in her eyes you could read that irrepressible energy that made her seem larger than life itself. Beside him, Mirio radiated a presence that did not go unnoticed: a perfectly fitted white shirt and dark jeans accentuated his athletic figure, while his blonde hair absorbed and reflected the light, making his smile, carefree and warm, illuminate the room almost like a star.

I felt completely out of place, like a tiny, clumsy sea urchin surrounded by two glowing stars. I cautiously settled into a discreet sofa, trying to blend in unnoticed, while Nejire threw herself into the center of the room with the confidence of a pop star, gripping the microphone with infectious determination.

“Tamaki, you have to sing with me!” She exclaimed in a vibrant voice, extending the microphone to me with an insistence that made me tremble.

“No, no, I... I'll just watch.” I stammered, sinking even deeper into the soft back of the sofa, wishing my presence would go unnoticed. At that precise moment, Mirio came closer, letting out a warm laugh and offering me a pat on the back, as if to tell me that there was nothing to worry about.

“Don't worry, Tamaki. I don't excel at singing either” he said with a smile, although he always seemed to have a talent for everything.

Soon, Nejire launched into an animated song, moving around the room with the grace and self-confidence of someone who feels he owns the stage. Mirio and I just watched her, letting the laughter and exaggerated movements of her dance dissipate, even if only for a moment, my own anxieties. To try to regain control, I ordered a glass of alcohol. I didn't usually do it, but that night, it seemed the only way to temper my nervousness. Mirio also ordered a drink, and in a short time, between songs and toasts, the atmosphere became more relaxed.

At one point in the evening, Mirio got up to take the microphone and sing. He chose a cheerful and lighthearted song, and in a matter of minutes, the whole room was infected with laughter and applause. As I watched him, I was flooded with a mixture of admiration and something deeper, a subtle and persistent emotion that always pulsed in the depths of my chest, reminding me how impossible it was to get close to him sometimes.

At the end of his number, Nejire, with a spontaneous gesture, embraced him and then turned to me.

“Your turn, Tamaki!” She said, picking up the microphone with a spark in her eyes.

The heat immediately came over me, and I could barely stammer:

“No, no, I... Not really.”

“Come on, Tamaki!” Mirio insisted with his broad, reassuring smile. “No one will judge you here.”

But my legs refused to cooperate. Instead of facing that expectation, I excused myself by muttering that I needed some fresh air and left the bustle and headed for the terrace. There, the night air, cold and serene, contrasted markedly with the luminous chaos inside, and in that space I allowed myself to breathe and calm my racing mind.

It didn't take long for me to feel the presence of Mirio, who joined me leaning gently against the railing, as we gazed at the star-studded sky.

“All right, Tamaki?” He asked in a soft voice, full of sincere concern.

“Yes, just... I needed a momento.” I murmured, letting the courage of alcohol soften my shyness.

“I understand.” he replied, with a gentle smile. “Sometimes, all of this is too much.”

His words resonated with me, and as I looked at him, for a moment, I felt time slow down. Under the pale moonlight, his blue eyes took on a special depth, and his smile became the refuge in the midst of my inner torments.

“You know, Tamaki,” he broke the silence in an intimate tone. “I'm always amazed at how you manage to light up everything around you.”

My heart skipped a beat. Were those words the fruit of alcohol or did they hide a deeper meaning? I could barely articulate a good answer.

“I... I don't illuminate anything.” I murmured, looking away in embarrassment. “It's you, Mirio, who shines.”

His laughter, habitual and cheerful, at that moment became soft, almost complicit.

“Of course, Tamaki. To me, you are a light.”

At that very moment, as the words floated between us, the door to the terrace burst open. Nejire reappeared, this time accompanied by a girl with an unknown face.

“Here they are!” He announced with a beaming smile. “Tamaki, this is Aiko. She's a fan of heroes and was eager to meet you.”

The ground seemed to shake beneath my feet. Aiko was undeniably beautiful, but at that moment, the mere thought of interacting with someone new filled me with trepidation. Should I give in to the situation to please Nejire and hide my true feelings, or risk being honest and exposing what really torments me?

As I debated in silence, I noticed how Mirio was watching me, his gaze oscillating between amusement and subtle complicity, as if he were measuring my reactions.

“Hello...” I managed to say, feeling a blush run through me.

“Hello.” Aiko replied, with a shy smile. “It's nice to meet you, Tamaki. I have always admired Quirks that transform parts of our bodies; I have a similar one.”

“Thank you.” I said, my voice getting caught in my throat, my eyes seeking refuge in Nejire, who seemed to enjoy the unexpected turn of the evening, and Mirio, whose expression was an enigma I couldn't quite decipher.

I decided to keep the conversation in a friendly tone, but without opening my heart too wide. I answered her questions about my Quirk and my workouts prudently, without going into details that might reveal more than I would like to admit. Finally, sensing that the chemistry wasn't flowing, Nejire let out a nervous laugh and, with a hint, took Aiko back inside.

Again, Mirio joined in the joke, patting me on my shoulder and saying:

“Good job, Tamaki. Although I think Nejire should stop pairing you with someone. When the right person arrives, you'll know.”

His words left me with a mixture of relief and strange confusion, as a wave of sensations ran through my body. The night continued with laughter, songs and small confidences; I preferred to watch from the sofa, letting every laugh and every musical note permeate my memory.

In the end, as we left the karaoke, the cool night air felt like a balm, partly dissipating the emotional weight of the evening.

“Well, what do we do now?” Nejire asked in a sleepy voice, yawning and stretching as we walked together.

“I think it's best for us to stay at my house.” Mirio said, with that carefree smile that somehow always managed to make me feel that everything was fine. “It's safer and, besides, we've already had enough to drink.”

“Good idea.” Nejire nodded, leaning against Mirio with a tired smile. “Is that okay, Tamaki?”

I nodded, feeling the tiredness and the effect of alcohol on my own body, but at the same time, the thought of spending the night at Mirio's house ignited a storm of thought in me. It was not the first time that we shared the night between the three of us, and although it seemed natural to them, fantasies and doubts were unleashed in my mind that made me question every sigh and every furtive look. What if...? No, I shouldn't think about that now.

As we walked silently toward Mirio's house, each step seemed to resonate with the racing echo of my heart. I couldn't take my eyes off his gestures, the way he looked at me and spoke; a subtle mixture that gave a glimpse of something beyond the usual complicity, although perhaps it was only the product of alcohol and my desperate imagination. However, something had changed that night, an unexpected twist that ignited the hope of discovering a new chapter in our story.

When we arrived at his home, with a simple appearance and an unkempt garden that reflected the little that Mirio spent in his house between missions and training, a scent of old wood and neutral detergent enveloped me. That smell seemed to hold silent memories, stories of a childhood that only he knew.

We climbed the stairs in an almost imperceptible murmur, with Nejire staggering slightly from alcohol. When we reached the second floor, Mirio's room revealed itself as a reflection of his essence: messy but cozy, adorned with posters of All Might and other heroes who marked his admiration, and a large window through which the faint glow of the lampposts filtered in. In a corner, a worn-out stuffed animal of a child hero made me imagine for a moment a childish Mirio, laughing innocently.

Naturally, Mirio spread a blanket on the floor, as if sharing his personal space were the most everyday thing in the world. I stood still, letting myself be enveloped by the soft moonlight that filtered through the curtains.

The atmosphere was almost intimate. Nejire slept soundly in bed, having been forced by Mirio to use it, while he and I settled into the blanket on the floor. At first, the idea of sharing that makeshift bed felt strange to me, but Mirio made it all feel natural and unpretentious.

“Don't worry, Tamaki,” he whispered with a gentle smile as he adjusted the blanket. “we have slept in worse places during missions. This is almost a luxury.”

I nodded, my heart pounding, and settled in profile in the gloom. From that position I could observe Mirio from behind; The silver moonlight highlighted his athletic figure, making his blonde hair appear even softer and his back, robust and serene, to move in time with his breathing. It was impossible not to admire him, to feel that mixture of wonder and something deeper, a feeling that had remained silent for so long on me.

Suddenly, without warning, Mirio turned around and our eyes met in the darkness. We were awake, and in that instant, the world seemed to be reduced to the simple existence of the two of us.

“Can't you sleep?” He asked in a whisper, in a voice so soft I could barely perceive it.

“No.” I murmured, intent not to wake Nejire.

After a short pause, he added, with a slight smile:

“It's just that... I'm not used to sleeping on the floor. Although, to be honest, I'm not complaining. It's nice to have company.”

I didn't know what to answer. The silence that settled between us was not awkward, but filled with an unspoken connection that transformed the room into a refuge just for the two of us. After a while, Mirio broke the silence with a question that, apparently, sought trivial topics:

“Hey, Tamaki, what did you think of Aiko? Nejire seemed very excited at the idea of you meeting her.”

A knot formed in my stomach at the sound of his voice. Why did he mention Aiko just now? Why remind me that, according to others, I should have feelings for someone like she?

“It was... Nice,” I stammered, feeling the words choke in my throat. “but I don't think it's my type.”

A low, soft laugh came from Mirio, as if he had understood something I was still afraid to admit.

“I understand.” he said, smiling. “Sometimes Nejire gets too excited about these things. But you know, there's nothing wrong with meeting someone. It could be good for you.”

His words weighed on me, making me question my own desires. Did he believe that what I need was someone else, when really, all I longed for was to be here, with him?

“I don't know.” I whispered, and at that moment, a timid courage began to spring up in my chest. “Maybe... Maybe I already know someone.”

His eyes lit up, and for a brief second, I felt time stand still. In a faint and almost imperceptible voice, he replied:

“Oh, yes?”

“Yes,” I replied quietly, my heart pounding. “someone who has always been there for me.”

The air was filled with an eloquent silence. Mirio was watching me, and in his gaze I discovered a glow that seemed to know my innermost secrets. For a moment, I thought that perhaps I had ruined everything with that vague confession. But then, as a response to my uncertainty, Mirio slowly approached. Without uttering a word, his movements were so smooth and natural that they dispelled any fears. When he was close enough, he wrapped me in a hug that I interpreted as much more than just a gesture of friendship.

It was not just any hug; it was warm and protective. I felt his hand gently caressing my back and his warm breath brushing my neck. By that moment, everything else vanished: the room, Nejire's deep sleep, the noise of the outside world. Only we existed, united in that refuge of silence and affection.

“You're special to me, Tamaki.” he whispered, and his words melted into my own heartbeat.

What did he mean? Did he also feel what I had hidden so much, or was he just kind, as always? At that moment, the doubts were suspended and only the hug that said it all mattered.

Gradually, calm and tiredness began to overpower me. My eyelids became heavy, and before sleep could fully claim me, I noticed Mirio adjusting the blanket over us, making sure I was comfortable.

Chapter Text

The sound of a click broke the tranquility of my dream, as if a shot had occurred next to my ear. I opened my eyes wide and, to my surprise, the first thing I saw was Nejire, in a rather unusual position: she was kneeling on the bed, his mobile phone in hand and a smile from ear to ear that lit up the room.

“Good morning, sleepyheads!” she exclaimed in that lively, sparkling voice that always managed to get ahead of the dawn, though today it seemed less melodic, perhaps because of the weight of the night before.

I sat up suddenly, feeling an uncomfortable heat begin to rise through my body. Beside me, Mirio was still fast asleep, his warm, heavy arm still curled around my waist. I cautiously tried to free myself, but as soon as I moved, he muttered something unintelligible and moved closer, as if I were a huge stuffed animal that deserved to be hugged.

“What... what are you up to?” I stammered, wide-eyed, looking at Nejire for an explanation.

“Taking pictures for the Big Three album!” she replied, laughing as she checked the image on her phone. “Look how cute you are! How gay, isn't it?”

That word embedded itself in my mind like an incessant echo, mingling with the trembling of my accelerated breathing. For a moment, I looked at Mirio, who remained oblivious, with his messy blond hair and a face so placid that it seemed to float in another world. He showed no concern, as he always did.

“No... It's not that.” I muttered, struggling to find the words, my voice trembling and choking in a sigh.

“Of course not!” Nejire continued, hurriedly putting his cell phone in his jacket pocket. “It's just that you're so cute together. Like those animals that hug each other to sleep... what are they called? Oh yes, koala bears!”

I didn't know what to answer. My mind was scrambling trying to process what had happened: had we really spent the whole night cuddling? And what surprised me the most, why didn't it bother him?

“Don't show that picture to anyone.” I finally said, trying to sound firm even though my voice betrayed my nervousness.

“Don't worry!” Nejire replied, raising her hands in a gesture of feigned innocence. “It's just for me. Although,” she paused dramatically, hinting at a mischievous smile, “if you pay me, I could erase it.”

“Nejire...” I protested, as I felt a sweat pool in the palms of my hands.

“Just kidding!” she exclaimed laughing, approaching the window. “But, Tamaki, relax a little. It's not that bad.”

I couldn't help but look away at Mirio. He was still immersed in his sleep, oblivious to the uproar that his embrace had caused. For a brief moment, I wondered if he would fall asleep in that same position again, his warmth enveloping me and his calm breathing murmuring close to my ear. But at that precise moment, Nejire pulled the curtains open, letting the sunlight spill over the room, dispelling any illusion of continuing in that sweet lethargy.

“Get up, you lazy ones!” she shouted with the unique energy of the morning. “The day waits for no one!”

Mirio moved slightly, muttering something unintelligible, without really opening his eyes. I, on the other hand, remained seated on the blanket, feeling the weight of the night that had passed and the beginning of a new day that mingled in my mind. Nejire's phrase, "How gay, isn't it?" resonated within me like a poignant reminder that, perhaps, my feelings were no longer as hidden as I thought.

A few minutes later, we were already in Mirio's small kitchen. The pungent aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the peculiar smell of burnt toasts, creating a morning symphony. Nejire was slumped on the table, her head in her hands and her characteristic blue hair looking even more messy than usual, while Mirio moved calmly around the kitchen, as if he had drunk water instead of beer that night. With a smile, he whistled a Coldplay song while spreading butter on toast with an almost comical naturalness.

“Never again.” Nejire murmured, raising his head with obvious effort. “I'll never sing Hero Too at the top of my lungs again. Do you have aspirin?”

“In the bathroom medicine cabinet.” Mirio replied, pouring coffee into three unequal cups. “But I think what you need is a good breakfast.”

I decided to occupy the chair furthest from Mirio, although I knew that in that tiny kitchen, escaping its proximity was almost impossible. Every time he came over to drop off a plate or to pass the jam, his arm brushed against mine. Every slight touch felt like an electric shock that rekindled the memory of that night when its heat had completely enveloped me.

“Tamaki, do you want honey?” Mirio asked, leaning over me to reach the jar. His breath, impregnated with the freshness of mint, made me question if he had brushed his teeth especially to share those moments with me. Obviously that shouldn't be the reason…

“No, thank you...” I murmured, staring at my cup of coffee. I knew that if I looked directly at him, he would sense that something was wrong. He always has that gift to decipher my silences.

“Oh, please!” cried Nejire, raising his voice and startling us both. “Can you stop being so… like this? You look like a marriage from a movie.”

Mirio let out a warm laugh, that sound that filled the room and that used to soften any discomfort.

“Like this?” he said, passing me a piece of toast without even asking. “Tamaki is always that quiet in the morning, right?”

I nodded, biting into the toast harder than necessary, wishing my mind wouldn't scream what I felt. Every gesture of his, every smile, every word reminded me intensely of how his hand had remained on my waist during the night, as if that contact were a natural bond between us.

“And you?” Nejire added, pointing at Mirio with his jam-stained knife. “How are you so fresh? Didn't you drink?”

“Of course I drank!” He replied laughing. “But I have a secret trick: I'm very big.”

“That's not even a trick, it's being a Monster.” Nejire grumbled, burying her face in her folded arms.

Finally, Mirio sat down in front of me and, for the first time since we woke up, our eyes met. His eyes shone with that characteristic light, but there seemed to be something else in them: curiosity, concern? I didn't know how to decipher it immediately, although I knew that, if I kept looking at it, I would end up confessing what I had worked so hard to keep quiet.

“Tamaki, is something wrong?” he asked, leaning forward slightly.

“No.” I replied too quickly. “It's just... I am tired.”

Nejire made a sound that oscillated between laughter and complaint.

“Of course you're tired,” she said in a hoarse voice, clearly affected by a hangover, “with how late we went to bed and how attached someone was to you... With what Mirio weighs, it's normal that you haven't slept well.”

Mirio, in a playful tone, threw a crumb of bread in Nejire's direction, but she, with a weak smile, dodged the small attack. I, for one, concentrated on the bitter taste of the coffee, wishing that it would burn my tongue and make me forget, even for a moment, those intense memories. I wondered if it had been a mistake to stay overnight.

It was then that, in a gesture that seemed to be taken from a dream, Mirio placed his hand on mine, barely for a millisecond while reaching for the sugar.

“Don't listen to her.” he whispered in a tone that seemed to have read my thoughts. “It's all right.”

And in that brief moment, absurdly, I thought I was right. Our contact, so subtle but full of meaning, took my breath away. How could he be so calm, so serene, when I felt a whirlwind of emotions just by his presence? I understood that, perhaps, I was the only one who saw this game of closeness and silence as something dangerous. For him, these gestures were as natural as the heartbeat of time, part of his way of being, unalterable.

The morning was still ongoing, and although the first light of day filtered through the windows, the echo of those shared moments still resounded inside me. Every word, every touch, reminded me that, sometimes, reality can be as sweet and complex as the dreams we weave in the shadows.

After finishing picking up the breakfast dishes, in the middle of the morning activity, Mirio stopped and, looking at his watch with an expression that I could not decipher, he said:

“Well, guys,” he said with a nonchalant smile, “I have some commitments today that I can't postpone. So I'll have to leave you.”

Nejire, her eyes still numb from resting on the table, raised her head and looked at him in disbelief.

“Commitments?” she asked, her voice still hoarse. “What commitments can be more important than spending Saturday hungover with us?”

Mirio let out a laugh that, this time, seemed different to me: softer and almost shy, as if he were hiding something deep inside himself.

“Oh, you know... things.” he replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing transcendental, but I can't let them go.”

“Things?” Nejire repeated, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “That's not an answer, Mirio.”

“I'm sorry.” he said, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender that seemed as familiar as it was unsettling. “But I promise you that tomorrow we will train together. Is that okay with you?”

Nejire sighed non-insistently, and I was silent, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. Commitments? With whom? I wanted to ask, but the words got stuck, heavy as peach pits. I didn't know if I had the right to intrude, did I?

At that moment, Mirio came closer to me, and for a brief second I thought he was going to say something else. But instead, he patted me on the shoulder, that usual gesture that comforted me and at the same time ignited a thousand questions.

“See you tomorrow, Tamaki.” he said, smiling. “Close the door when you leave.”

Before I could articulate any response, he had already left, leaving Nejire and me in a kitchen that suddenly felt immense and deserted, as if the absence of his warmth had expanded the space.

My mind was filled with questions. What commitments could he have that were so important as to leave us that way? Who would he meet? I began to imagine scenes that I didn't want to see: Mirio laughing with another person, sharing secrets, hugging each other in the same way that night we had merged into one body... A whirlwind of doubts enveloped me.

Nejire and I left the house together, but soon after, as she stopped at a corner, she looked at me with that expression that seemed to read every corner of my soul.

“Well, I'm going this way.” she said, pointing to the left with an exaggerated gesture. “And you? Heading straight home?”

“No...” I murmured, fiddling with the hem of my jacket. “I think I'll go to the training area. Need... clear my head a little.”

Her smile, at that precise moment, was not the usual sparkling one, but rather soft and understanding, almost as if she understood my silences.

“Don’t dwell on it, Tamaki.” she said, throwing me a sudden hug that took my breath away.

I stood motionless, surprised by the unexpected sincerity of her gesture. Nejire wasn't the type to offer hugs for no reason, and that made me wonder if she knew more than it implied. But before I could ask her anything, she let go and went on his way, waving a hand in the air in farewell.

“Don't spend the day training or you won't have the strength for tomorrow!” she shouted without turning, her voice full of joke and affection.

I nodded, even though I knew she couldn't see me, and set off on the road to the U.A. The trail was quiet, only interrupted by the sound of my footsteps and the rustle of the wind moving the leaves of the trees. However, my mind could not find rest. Nejire's words mingled with memories of the night and that chaotic morning, resonating: Will everything really be okay?

I arrived at the U.A. training area, a deserted place at that hour, bathed in the afternoon sun that illuminated the lawn with a golden glow, making the place seem at once more immense and lonely. I took off my jacket and left it on a bench, allowing the cool air to envelop me, trying to dissipate the heat and confusion inside me.

I closed my eyes and activated my Quirk; I felt my arm transform into a claw, similar to that of a fiddler crab. With all the strength I could muster, I hit a training pole. The impact resonated in the silence of the field and, in that brief moment, I felt free, as if each blow erased a little of the weight I was carrying.

But then, as often happens when I'm alone, the memories burst into my mind. I went back to those days in class, years ago, when I failed an exercise and the other kids were laughing at me. I cringed, wanting to disappear, but then a blond-haired boy came between them, with that defiant smile that always made him look imposing.

“Tamaki is stronger than all of you put together!” He said, in a voice so firm that even the professor fell silent. “And if you don't believe it, go tell him to his face!”

No one dared to do it, of course. All the children admired Mirio, including me. But in that moment, as I looked at it, I felt something I had never experienced before: a mixture of admiration, gratitude, and something else, something I couldn't name then.

I stopped hitting the pole and leaned on it, feeling how tiredness crept into my being. Why was he still protected me in that way? Was it just kindness or was there something deeper in his mannerisms? I looked towards the horizon, where the sun was beginning to set, and I understood that, although the answers escaped me, there was one thing that was clear to me: I like him. I love him in a way that I couldn't explain, but that I feel in every fiber of my being. I knew what he longed for. The only thing I didn't know was if he felt the same way. That doubt, that uncertainty, was the limbo that kept me trapped between fear and hope.

The dilemma was not so much to understand what I felt, but how to express it without breaking what we had built. How could I say something to him without risking his smile, his hugs, that light that always enveloped me? Mirio was my best friend, my sun, my refuge. And I... I was just me.

Perhaps, at that precise moment, I did not need clear answers, but to keep going, even if each step felt more difficult than the last one. With that determination, I picked up my jacket, feeling that even though everything was on hold, I was determined not to run away from what I felt.

Chapter Text

The support department always got on my nerves, as if I were entering a laboratory of crazed geniuses, where every corner was brimming with scintillating artifacts, messy wires, and prototypes that seemed ready to explode at any moment. Today, however, I had no choice: I needed a device that would help me transport food without it deteriorating. My Quirk depended on it, and I couldn't afford to run out of energy in the middle of a workout... or another even worse situation.

As I pushed to open the door, a pungent smell of burning metal and machinery oil hit me squarely. In the center of the room was a classmate, wearing protective goggles that magnified his eyes in an almost comical way.

“Amajiki!” He exclaimed in an enthusiastic tone, as if we had arranged to meet in person. “I was thinking about you!”

“Ah... yes? Hello.” I murmured, feeling a sudden urge to flee creeping over me.

Without wasting any time, he lifted an object that looked like a strange fusion between a huge tea bag and a small bomb.

“Look at this!” He exclamed, showing proudly. “Portable cryogenic storage bags! They keep food fresh, even in the volcanic hell of Endeavor. Isn't that amazing?”

“Eh... Yes.” I replied, looking at the device with some skepticism. “Just what I need... And is it safe?”

“Of course it is!” He answered, as if my question were an insult. “Well, almost. We haven't tried them with liquids yet, but here's an ostrich egg for you to experience!”

“A what?” I asked, taking a step back as he pulled an egg the size of a soccer ball from under a table.

“Relax!” He said with a laugh. “It's just a prototype. Although,” he paused with theatrics, “if it explodes, it will be a memorable explosion!”

Just then, Professor Higari appeared behind us, with a mixture of tiredness and resignation on his face.

“Niko, stop scaring the students.” he said with a sigh. “Amajiki, don't listen to his exaggerations. These bags are safe... although, as he mentioned, we have not yet tested them with liquids.”

“Thank you, Professor.” I murmured, feeling a wave of relief washing over me.

“But if you're looking for something more reliable,” Higari continued, pointing to a shelf crammed with devices, “we've got thermal bags here. They are not so revolutionary, but they do their job perfectly.”

“That... that would be better.” I agreed, nodding my head.

As the professor explained to me how the thermal bags worked, I couldn't help but take a look at Niko, who was already immersed in another project: he was energetically welding what looked like a robotic arm. How is it possible for someone to have so much vitality? Just watching him left me exhausted.

“Here you go.” Higari said, handing me some of the bags. “Try them out and if you have any inconveniences, let me know.”

“Thank you.” I replied, carefully tucking the bags into my backpack.

As I left the apartment, the fresh air in the hallway was a balm. That place was a microcosm of everything that made me nervous: bustling people, unpredictable artifacts, and conversations I never knew how to handle. But then I remembered that I still had a training with Mirio and Nejire pending.

The corridor of the U.A. was quiet, as it usually is on Sunday mornings. Only the echo of my footsteps mixed with the subtle hum of fluorescent lights. I was walking towards the training room when I saw him.

Mirio was leaning against a wall, absorbed in his phone, and his smile lit up the hallway more than any lamp. When he saw me, he looked up and greeted me with an effusive gesture.

“Hello, Tamaki!” He said, in that voice that always seemed to fill the space. “Have you seen what Nejire uploaded?”

"Huh? No...” I murmured, fearing the worst.

“Look,.” he said, reaching over and showing me his phone. On the screen was the photo Nejire had taken on Saturday morning: him and I, asleep embracing under the blanket, accompanied by a caption that says: "The Big Three... or rather, The Two Koalas! 🐨💤 ".

Immediately, I felt the heat spread across my face. Why would she have posted that? And why was Mirio so relaxed?

“That is... an invasion of my privacy.” I commented, looking away from the phone.

Mirio laughed, that warm, comforting sound that sometimes made me feel like I was floating in limbo.

“Don't exaggerate!” He answered, pointing to the image. “See, you have such a serious expression, as if you were planning to save the world. And I really look like a koala hugging a tree!”

Forced to look at the photo again, I recognized the truth: my countenance was almost impassive, while Mirio radiated a tranquility that seemed natural even in sleep. However, my concern did not lie in the photo itself.

“Doesn't it bother you that people see this?” I asked, unable to suppress my anxiety. “I mean...”

Mirio stared at me, and in his blue eyes I sensed something that seemed to decipher my secrets.

“Make me uncomfortable?” he said, as if the idea made him laugh. “To me, it's just a fun photo. Besides, what's wrong with people knowing that we're good friends?”

“Nothing... I guess.” I murmured, swallowing hard as my mind debated between what I wanted to say and what I should keep quiet.

“Exactly.” Mirio commented, patting me on the shoulder. “Don't worry so much, Tamaki. Life becomes lighter if one laughs a little.”

With those words, he put his phone away and continued towards the training room, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. I stood there, feeling the echo of the touch of his hand on my shoulder, a footprint that I could not ignore. How could he laugh so nonchalantly? As if it didn't matter that the whole world imagined that, perhaps, we were... that we were something more. To him, those gestures were so natural; To me, every laugh, every word, was a reminder of how different we were, and how much I longed for things to be different.

The Gamma Training Room was designed to recreate urban combat scenarios, with structures that imitated buildings, narrow alleys and even a couple of rusty cars arranged as improvised obstacles. Upon entering, Nejire could already be seen, busy with her stretches, whose movements seemed more like an improvised dance choreography than a simple warm-up. Meanwhile, Mirio was carefully reviewing the automated drones we would use during the session.

“Tamaki, Mirio!” Nejire exclaimed as she saw us enter. “You arrive just in time to become the target of my energy swirls!”

“Eh... No, thank you.” I murmured, looking in any direction but her.

“Don't listen to her.” Mirio commented, approaching with that serene smile that always comforts me. “Today we are going to work as a team, remember?”

I nodded, although other concerns were debated in my mind, and working as a team seemed a distant concept to me when my thoughts wandered to other terrains.

“Hey, Tamaki.” Nejire said, stopping stretching and looking at me with that characteristic expression of her. “Why are you so serious? Don't tell me you're upset about the photo?”

“I'm not...serious” I protested in a thin voice.

“Of course you are!” She exclaimed, laughing. “You look like you've been caught stealing from a grocery store.”

Every word of hers was a reminder of how different we were: she, so direct and carefree; me, lost in a tangle of "what if...?" that had me trapped.

“Nejire...” I murmured, looking down at the ground.

“Come on, Tamaki.” Mirio interjected in that calm voice that always manages to assuage my fears. “It's just a photo. And besides, isn't it funny to see me so comfortable sleeping on the floor?”

But what worried me most was precisely Mirio's tranquility. He, with his smile and his relaxed attitude, seemed to inhabit a world in which nothing mattered, while I was consumed wishing I could be part of that universe with him.

“Yes... I guess.” I blurted out, my words not being able to dispel the whirlwind that swirled inside me.

“Exactly!” Nejire said, patting me on the arm. “So relax and enjoy the workout. Unless…” she paused theatrically, “you have something to hide.”

Mirio laughed, but I froze, Nejire's voice echoing in my mind. Did I have something to hide? Of course, but I couldn't say, not here, not now.

“Perhaps a secret as dark as a dead man hiding under your bed?” She continued jokingly, approaching with her hands raised, threatening to tickle me.

“Well, shall we start yet?” Mirio interrupted, pointing to the drones that were beginning to activate in the room.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, raising her arms vertically and generating a whirlwind of energy around hers. “Let the show begin!”

And so, without further delay, the training session began.

The drones began to move, their red lights flashing as they lined up for the "attack." Nejire was the first to jump into action, soaring with a graceful spin and generating a swirl of energy that deflected the first rubber shells.

“Come on, boys!” she shouted, laughing as she watched some drones crash into the walls. “This is a piece of cake!”

Mirio did not take long to join the fray. With his Quirk he became intangible and went through one of the structures in the room, appearing right behind a group of drones.

“This way!” He invited, drawing the attention of the drones to him. “Tamaki, now it's your turn!”

I nodded, though I was overcome with uncertainty about what to do. I activated my Quirk and felt my arms transform into tentacles, an effect attributed to the sushi I had eaten before. With one swift motion, I wrapped around two drones, pinning them to the ground.

“Well done!” Mirio exclaimed, smiling as he nimbly dodged another projectile. “You can always count on your tentacles.”

I couldn't help but smile back at him; Mirio had that ability to make everything seem simpler, funnier. But in an instant, a drone I hadn't seen approached me from my left side, launching a projectile directly at me.

“Tamaki, watch out!” Mirio shouted, becoming tangible just in time to intercept the projectile with his body.

The impact made him recoil slightly, but he just laughed, as if it were part of a game.

“You're not fine today!” he said, winking at me. “Did you eat something weird?”

“No... I don't think so.” I murmured, feeling the blood rise to my head.

“Concentrate, guys!” Nejire shouted from the air, generating another swirl of energy that brought down three more drones. “This is not a date!”

Mirio laughed, but I remained silent, Nejire's words echoing within me. A date? If only she knew...

Training continued, with Nejire flying and attacking from the air, Mirio dodging and hitting the drones, and me struggling to keep up with my tentacles. However, my mind couldn't help but be distracted at the sight of Mirio. The way he moved, so agile and carefree, as if danger were something irrelevant to him, filled me with an admiration that made me dream of being a little closer to that world. As I watched him laugh and dodge projectiles, a faint hope lit up in me: maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as distant from him as I thought. If I could keep up with him on the battlefield, why not in real life?

Finally, the Big Three achieved victory, although not without receiving some bruises and scratches. Nejire gently descended from the air and landed on the ground, laughing as she checked his mobile.

“This goes straight to Instagram!” she announced with that mischievous smile that always made me nervous. “This time I will write: "The hero who saves his clumsy koala". I'll get a million likes!”

Mirio let out another laugh, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his arm.

“Only if you label me as 'The Sun of Your Life'!”

I was silent, staring down at the ground as I tried to catch my breath. The allusion to the koala, though subtle, made me feel exposed, as if Nejire was playing with fire without measuring the consequences.

“No... Don't do that.” I whispered, resting my head against the nearest wall.

“Why not?” Nejire asked, leaning toward me with an expression of false innocence. “It's just a joke, Tamaki. Besides, Mirio doesn't complain... Or do you have any problem with that?”

Mirio laughed again, but this time I sensed something in his gaze that seemed to be waiting for my answer.

“It's not that.” I stammered, feeling the words tangle in my throat. “It's just that... I don't want people to misunderstand.”

“Misunderstand what?” Nejire asked, arching an eyebrow. “That you are just very close friends? What's wrong with it?”

I didn't know what to answer, and as usual, Mirio came to the rescue.

“Come on, Tamaki.” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “Don't worry so much.”

I nodded, though I doubted I could laugh at that very moment. Nejire's words kept floating in my mind, mingling with the memories of the night before and the training we had just experienced.

“Well, I'm leaving.” Nejire said, putting away her cell phone. “See you tomorrow, koalas!”

And with that farewell, she left us alone, Mirio and I, in the training room, where every moment seemed to carry a special weight in my heart.

We collapsed on the floor of the training room, exhausted and covered in sweat, as the atmosphere was permeated by the soft residual hum of the deactivated drones. The silence that enveloped us was surprisingly comfortable, as if shared tiredness united us in a silent truce. Mirio, always radiant even in the midst of exhaustion, stretched out his arms to the sky as if he wanted to touch something unattainable and let out a laugh that seemed to echo throughout the room.

“What a training!” he said, staring blankly at the ceiling, as if admiring the stars that, invisible to us, shone in another universe. “I think today we beat the drones by a landslide.”

“Yes.” I murmured, feeling the contrast between the cold of the ground and the burning that still ran through my skin. “Although a dron almost hit me in the face.”

“But I was there to save you!” he answered, turning his head to look at me with a frank smile, in which I could see both; the tiredness and the satisfaction of the moment. “As always, I'm always here.”

I couldn't help but stare at him. His blond hair, disheveled by combat, and that drop of sweat that slowly slid down his temple, awakened in me a torrent of emotions. I wanted to approach and touch him, but something inside me made me restrain myself, as if I was afraid of disturbing that perfect image of confidence.

“Why do you do it?” I asked suddenly, without measuring my words, before I could stop the tide of my voice.

“Do what?” he answered, arching an eyebrow with that naturalness that always characterized him.

“Protect myself.” I blurted out, feeling the words emerge without warning. “You don't have to...”

There was a brief, almost sacred silence, something unusual about him. Then, with a smile that seemed to light up the gloom, he raised a finger and pointed to the ceiling.

“Do you see those lights?” He said, referring to the fluorescent lamps that flickered softly. “They are always there, even when no one thanks them for lighting up the place. I... I just want to be like them for you. Someone you can trust, no matter what.”

His words took my breath away. Was he comparing himself to a lamp? It was so typical of Mirio: simple, brilliant, and completely unaware of the magnitude of his own impact on my life.

“But,” I swallowed, fighting the storm of feelings, “doesn't it bother you that I depend so much on you?”

He laughed, that soft, carefree laugh that always managed to dispel my fears.

“Tamaki, do you know what Sir Nighteye once told me?” he asked, changing his tone and softening the atmosphere. “That a hero is not only the one who saves others, but also the one who teaches them to save themselves. You... You give me that strength.”

I was silent, overwhelmed by the sincerity of his words. How could someone like him need something from someone like me?

“That... that doesn't make sense.” I murmured, tilting my head to look away from the ceiling, avoiding looking at Mirio's tender expression.

“Of course it does” he replied, leaning on one elbow to try to hold my gaze. “When you're there, doing your best despite your fears, you remind me every day why I want to be a hero.”

My heart was pounding so hard that I feared his ears might hear it. Fortunately, at that moment, his phone vibrated. Mirio took it out of his pocket and read the message with a mischievous smile.

“It's Nejire.” he said, showing a row of koala and sun emojis. “She says that if we don't like his post, she'll tag us in memes all week.”

“Oh...” was all I could articulate, feeling my cheeks light up.

Mirio got up and, with his usual naturalness, extended his hand to help me to my feet.

“Come on," he said, smiling. “I'll walk with you to the exit.”

And so, we went out together under the lights in the hallway. As we walked, Mirio's words kept echoing in my mind: "Someone you can trust, no matter what." Perhaps, one day, I would muster up the courage to tell him that he was already that and much more for me.

Each step with him became an internal battle between the desire to confess and the paralyzing fear of losing him. But for now, as his shoulder brushed against mine and his laughter filled the silence with comforting sweetness, I decided it was enough to be his clumsy koala, his shadow in the sun. At least, that way I could continue to live this small moment of happiness, for one more day.

Chapter Text

The sound of laughter hit me as soon as I opened the door of the classroom. A group of classmates huddled around the phone of one of them, pointing at the screen and laughing as if they had discovered the joke of the century. I didn't have to ask what it was; I understood it instantly when one of them raised his head and gave me a mocking look:

“Hey, Tamaki!” he exclaimed, showing me the phone. “Check this out! You two are famous!”

On the screen was the photo that Nejire had uploaded to Instagram: Mirio and I, asleep hugging under the blanket. I felt as if an oven had been lit inside me.

“Koalas?” Another colleague commented, joining in the laughter. “It's perfect! Mirio is the parent koala and you are the baby koala.”

“No... It's not funny.” I muttered, feeling every word dig into my chest like thorns.

“Of course it is!” The first answered, passing the phone to another. “Besides, isn't it tender to see the Big Three so united?”

I didn't know what to say. Luckily, at that precise moment, Mirio entered the room with his carefree smile.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, approaching the group.

“Yours.” said one of the students, showing him the phone. “You are the most famous koalas of the U.A.!”

Mirio looked at the photo and laughed, as if nothing mattered to him at all.

“I love it!” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “Koalas to the rescue, right, Tamaki?”

“Yes... I guess.” I murmured, looking away.

“Come on, don't get like that.” Mirio continued, smiling. “Also, isn't it better to be a koala than a squid?”

“I... I don't know.” I blurted out, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

Was it a prank? A joke? While Mirio smiled naturally, I wished I could sink into the ground like a mussel. Why did it have to be so complicated? Why couldn't I be as carefree and happy as he was, no matter what others think?

The atmosphere suddenly tightened as the door opened with a dry creak. Aizawa walked in, with that expression of perpetual weariness, shuffling his feet as if the weight of the world rested on him. In one hand he held a coffee that seemed colder than him, and in the other, a sign that announced: "Cultural Festival: 3 weeks."

“Sit down.” he commanded in that monotone voice that usually brings us to the brink of sleep. “And put the phones away. This is important.”

The students obeyed instantly, although some knowing glances and furtive laughter still peeked out when they remembered the photo of the koalas. I sank even deeper into my seat, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me.

“In three weeks is the cultural festival,” Aizawa continued, pinning the poster on the blackboard with a magnet. “I need you to form groups and decide what you are going to do. I don't want to see disasters like last year.”

“Disasters?” Someone asked from the back, but Aizawa ignored him.

“You have a week to present your proposals to me.” he added, looking at us with that expression that made us feel on the verge of expulsion. “If you don't have something decent, I'll assign you a task myself. And believe me, you're not going to like it.”

The room was filled with murmurs; however, Nejire raised her hand with an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Professor!” she exclaimed, almost jumping from his seat. “We could set up a koala-themed café!”

“Koalas?” Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow.

The room erupted in laughter, especially among those who moments before were laughing at the photo. Nejire had handed it to him on a platter.

“Yes!” she said, pointing to Mirio and me. “You, Tamaki, can take care of the cooking, and Mirio will be the star waiter. It's going to be a success!”

Mirio laughed and leaned back in his chair with total nonchalance.

“I love the idea!” he said, smiling. “Although I don't know if I have the talent of a waiter that you think.”

“Don't worry.” Nejire replied with a mischievous smile. “With that smile of yours, first-class customers will surely line up to order a coffee from you.”

I was silent, feeling the weight of the situation come upon me. A koala-themed café? Seriously? I couldn't find words to express how uncomfortable the idea was for me. But before I could say anything, Aizawa interrupted us.

“As long as it's not a mess, I don't care what you do.” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “But remember: if something goes wrong, it will be your responsibility.”

And with that warning, he left the room, leaving us in charge of organizing the festival.

The morning passed between sketches of menus, lists of ingredients and heated discussions about the decoration of the stall. Nejire was in her element, drawing smiling koalas in her notebook and suggesting names like "Café Koala: Where the Hug is on the Menu." Mirio added to the enthusiasm, proposing that we could wear aprons adorned with koala ears.

“And we could have a cuddle contest!” he said, laughing. The winner gets a free coffee.

“That's it... That's too much.” I murmured, without looking up from my notebook.

“Don't exaggerate, Tamaki!” Nejire interjected, patting me on the back. “It will be fun. Also, who doesn't love koalas?”

I didn't answer. The truth is that the idea seemed so absurd and ridiculous to me that I couldn't find any objection to it, not when Mirio was smiling with such conviction and Nejire was determined to make us the great attraction of the festival. So I just nodded and kept writing down an ingredient list, resigned to the fact that probably no one would read my notes.

At noon, we paused for lunch. We ate in silence, each immersed in his own thoughts. Mirio checked his phone and laughed at some meme, while Nejire chatted animatedly with Yuyu, her friend from class B. I, for one, focused on my bento, trying not to think about what would come next.

In the afternoon, we met at the main gymnasium, where a rookie hero was waiting for us: Kizuna Shinkai. Tall, thin, and wrapped in a dark blue cloak, his serious countenance contrasted markedly with the softness of his voice.

“Good afternoon.” he greeted, staring at us with piercing eyes. “I am Kizuna Shinkai, and my Quirk, Mindscape, will allow you to face your deepest fears in a mental trance.”

A murmur rose from the crowd and someone from the back asked:

“A trance?”

Kizuna nodded, cracking a smile that seemed distant, almost unattainable.

“Yes.” he answered. “Within your mind, you will face what you fear most. You can only get out of that trance if you overcome that fear... or if you give up. But I don't recommend it.”

The gym was filled with restless murmurs, without him giving time for more questions.

“Who wants to be the first?” He asked, and his look made me feel that there was no escape.

A mental trance. The mere thought of facing my own fears made my blood run cold, but at the same time it was fascinating. What would I discover in that inner abyss? What hidden part of me would be revealed? I wasn't sure if I wanted it, but I couldn't back away either, especially not in front of Mirio.

The first volunteer was a boy of the class, one of those who always had something to say, but who at that moment seemed to have lost all color. Kizuna approached without preamble and, with two fingers, touched his forehead. The young man stood motionless as if a pause button had been pressed on his body; his eyes closed and his face took on a grimace of tension, almost of pain.

“Is he okay?” I asked quietly, unable to take my eyes off Mirio and Nejire.

“Sure,” Nejire replied, with a smile that barely hid his curiosity. “it's just a trance.

“But it seems… uncomfortable.” I murmured, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.

“It's normal.” Mirio replied, leaning against a wall. “We all have fears, don't we? The important thing is to face them.”

His words left me silent. How could someone as serene as Mirio understand what it meant to be afraid? He, always smiling, always sure of himself and always ready to help others... what fear could he harbor inside?

A few minutes later, the boy came to his senses, panting and his face soaked with sweat.

“That was horrible!” he exclaimed, leaning on his knees. “I was on the graduation stage, in front of the whole school, and... I couldn't remember a word of my speech. Everyone laughed at me... except for All Might, who was disguised as an octopus.

“All Might Octopus?” someone asked laughing. “That's a creative fear!”

Laughter spread among the classmates, but I remained silent, feeling the weight of the situation on my shoulders. If that boy had faced something so absurd, what would I discover in my own trance?

Kizuna continued his work, reaching out to each of us and touching our foreheads, leaving waves of trance-like students in his wake. Finally, it was my turn. He looked at me fixedly, with that serious expression that was so characteristic of him, and asked:

“Ready?”

“No... I'm not sure.” I muttered, as my heart pounded, threatening to come out of my chest.

“No one is.” he said, brushing my forehead with two fingers.

And in that instant, the world vanished.

I found myself in an endless hallway, with immaculately white walls and a floor that seemed to stretch to the horizon. At the end of the corridor, I made out silhouettes: among them, I recognized my parents and Mirio, walking in the distance, slowly moving away. I tried to run, but my legs felt heavy, as if they were made of lead. I shouted their names, desperate, but my voice was lost in the void. No matter how hard I tried; They would fade into the light, until they melted completely, leaving me alone in an endless corridor, in a world that was meaningless.

When I came to, I found myself on my knees, trembling and my face covered with sweat. I felt a comforting presence next to me: Mirio was there, with a hand on my shoulder and a look of genuine concern, something I had never seen before in him.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a soft, uneasy voice.

“Yes.” I murmured, searching his eyes for some sign of comfort.

“What did you see?” Nejire asked, leaning over curiously.

“Nothing major.” I said, feeling the lie weigh on my shoulders, a burden I would rather not have to reveal.

They didn't insist, but Mirio's gaze remained fixed on me, as if he sensed that there was something else hidden behind my words. Something I wasn't willing to confess. How could I explain that my greatest fear was losing him? No, I couldn't say that. Not now. No, never. So, with an effort that cost me every particle of courage, I got up, brushed the dust off my knees, and moved on, just as I always had, though each step now carried with it a new uncertainty.

After that intense class, each one retired to their dorm room to shower and change. The hot water helped me relax, but despite its comforting flow, my mind refused to stop reviewing what I had seen during the trance. The image of my family and Mirio moving away from me, merging into a light that seemed to erase his existence, was still latent, as if they had never been there. I knew it had been just a dream, but the feeling of emptiness clung to my chest, and loneliness weighed on me in silence.

I dressed in comfortable clothes: an old sweater and workout pants that had gone through better days. I went down to the dining room, where Nejire and Mirio were already sitting near the window. Seeing me, Mirio raised his hand, smiling as if nothing had disturbed the harmony of the moment.

“Tamaki!” he said, pointing to the empty chair next to him. “We've saved a place for you.”

I nodded and sat down, the scent of curry permeating the air with a warmth that tried to counteract my concerns. Nejire was absentmindedly fiddling with his food, moving the rice back and forth on her plate with the fork, as if each grain contained a secret.

After a few moments, Mirio broke the silence:

“Hey, Nejire, what did you see in the trance?”

She raised her head, smiling slightly as her gaze became enigmatic.

“Me? Nothing too interesting... Just… some things.”

“Things?” Mirio repeated, raising an eyebrow in a mocking tone. “That doesn't answer to anything.”

“Well, what about you?” Nejire continued, deftly diverting the conversation. “What did you see, oh great Mirio Togata?”

Mirio laughed, as if the question was part of an inside joke.

“They smeared me with a permanent pink dye by mistake.” he replied matter-of-factly. “No one took me seriously after that.”

Nejire laughed, almost spilling his glass of water.

“That's incredible!” she exclaimed, wiping away an imaginary tear.

“I tried to convince them that it was a mistake, but no one would listen.” he added, laughing. “Even Endeavor appeared in a bright pink suit.”

“Endeavor, pink?” I asked without being able to help it.

“Yes.” Mirio replied, smiling at me. “He looked like a giant cotton candy.”

I couldn't help but smile, even if it was shy. It was typical of Mirio to transform what for others could be a nightmare into a funny anecdote.

“Well, at least it wasn't that terrible.” Nejire said, returning to his plate. “But, Tamaki, you haven't told us what you saw yet.”

I felt the knot in my stomach tighten again.

“Neither do you,” I murmured, not taking my eyes off my food.

“Come on, Tamaki, don't be shy.” Mirio said, leaning a little toward me in a voice that was intended to be encouraging.

“It's not that.” I replied, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “It's just that... It really wasn't that significant, really.”

Nejire stared at me with those narrowed eyes, as if she could decipher every secret in my mind, but she didn't insist. Mirio, for his part, gave me a final pat on the shoulder.

“If you ever want to tell us, we'll be here.” he said, with a smile. “Koalas to the rescue!”

I nodded, although an unspeakable doubt was brewing inside me. How could I explain to him that, in my heart, his absence was more terrifying than any monster or villain? If he knew that my biggest fear was losing him, would he still look at me that way? I don't want to find it out.

Chapter Text

The week was blurred between messy notes and exhausting training. Theoretical combat strategy classes blended into my mind like a poorly cooked stew: too many tactics, countless diagrams, and voices intertwining in a confusing chaos. But in the midst of all that, there was always Mirio, passing me his notes in a round handwriting dotted with All Might scribbles in the margins.

“Don't worry, Tamaki.” he used to say whenever he frowned at a confused concept. “I don't understand much about this either.”

I nodded, although in my heart only one thing mattered: that he continued to sit next to me, sharing that silent complicity that I longed for so much.

In practice, the situation was no better. As Nejire and Mirio moved as if dancing in unison, dodging drones and launching coordinated attacks, I tripped over my own tentacles or became paralyzed when a rubber projectile flew too close.

“Come on, Tamaki!” Mirio shouted from the other end of the room, with that smile that seemed to whisper to me "trust me". And I trusted. I always trusted him and his unwavering presence.

In the afternoons, we would meet in the library to plan the koala-themed café. Nejire had designed a menu as absurd as it was charming: "Koala Embrace Cappuccino", "Marsupial Footprint Biscuits", "Eucalyptus Tea (authentic!)".

“Do we really need so many details?” I asked quietly, pointing to the drawing of a koala in a barista hat that she had made.

“Of course!” Nejire replied, as if that question were the dumbest in the world. “People come for the experience, not just for the coffee.”

Mirio nodded, leafing through a decoration magazine.

“We could also put on warm lights and soothing music.” he said, pointing to a photo of a cozy coffee shop. “It would be a refuge in the midst of the chaos of the festival.”

I didn't say anything. The thought of spending hours serving coffees under dim lights and curious looks made me sweat more than any workout. But when Mirio smiled at me, as if it were all a great adventure, I just nodded.

As the week progressed, the fear that the festival would turn into a disaster was mixed with hope, fueled by Mirio's notes, Nejire's laughter and the paper cutouts of koalas that she made tirelessly. Perhaps, somehow, I could survive it all without my secrets spilling out.

On Thursday afternoon, rain fell without warning, transforming the U.A.'s courtyard into a sea of puddles and rushing umbrellas. I took refuge under the roof of the main building, watching the water hit the ground furiously. As always, I had forgotten my umbrella.

“Do you need help?” asked a voice next to me. It was Mirio, holding a blue umbrella with a hole in the center.

“No... I don't want to bother you.” I murmured, though I didn't want to admit it to myself.

“No problem!” he said, smiling. “In addition, this umbrella has personality. Look, it even has a star-shaped hole!”

I couldn't help but smile, even slightly. Mirio always found the silver lining, even in a broken umbrella.

“Well... if you don't mind.” I said, approaching him shyly.

“Of course not!” He answered, opening the umbrella with a theatrical gesture. “Come on, before the rain floods us.”

We walked together in the rain. Each step was rhythmic, and the sound of the umbrella, as the drops passed through its hole, mixed with the touch of our shoulders. The heat of his body contrasted with the cold of the rain, and suddenly, Mirio said:

“Did you know that koalas can sleep up to 20 hours a day?”

“No... I didn't know.” I murmured, feeling my heart racing. “It seems that you have done a lot of research.”

“Yes!” he went on, smiling. “They're just like you: calm and adorable”

I didn't know what to answer, but I focused on how Mirio tilted the umbrella to cover me completely, even though his left arm was exposed to the rain.

“Your shoulder.” I said, pointing to the dark stain on his jacket.

“Don't worry.” he replied, laughing. “A little water doesn't hurt me. Besides, don't they say that rain brings luck?”

I didn't say anything, but in my mind, his words were piling up like drops in a puddle. How could he be so carefree? So generous? ¿So... him?

By the time we reached the bus station, my bus was already arriving, with the engine whizzing and the lights on.

“Thank you.” I said.

“There's no need,” Mirio replied, smiling. “see you tomorrow.”

I got on the bus and, as it drove away, I saw Mirio stand there, under the broken umbrella, waving at me until his figure faded into the rain.

The way home was a whirlwind of thoughts. Why had he gone so far just to accompany me? Why did everything in him seem so natural, so easy, so... perfect? I had no answers, but every drop that fell off the bus reminded me how close I had been to him, and at the same time, how unreachable he still was for me.

Every moment of that week left me with a bittersweet feeling, a latent desire that things could be different. Perhaps, one day, I could confess that in my world, his presence was more vital than anything else. For now, every step, every drop of rain, was a reminder of how close and how far my heart was from him.

On Saturday morning, Nejire appeared at my door with a mischievous smile that could only announce trouble. Before I could even protest, she grabbed my arm tightly.

“Come on, Tamaki! Today is shopping day, and I need your opinion.” she exclaimed, as if that activity were the most everyday in his world.

“Shopping?” I asked, as a shiver of panic ran through my body.

“Yes, shopping,” she replied, quite naturally. “and no, it's not for the koala café. It's for me. And, of course, for you if you find something you like.”

I didn't have time to argue. Before I could process the situation, we were already at the mall. Mirio smiled, as if this excursion was the best idea in the universe, as Nejire led us to a shop full of colorful clothes.

“Why do you always drag us into these things?” Mirio asked laughing.

“Because you're my favorite friends.” Nejire replied, with a smile that left no room for reply. “Besides, who else will tell me if this dress makes me look like a cloud or a rainbow?”

I stayed a little behind, feeling the bustle of the mall overwhelm me, while they indulged in the fun. Nejire made us try everything: T-shirts with ridiculous prints, jackets with exaggerated shoulder pads, and even hats that looked like they came out of an eighties movie.

“Look at this!” Mirio exclaimed as he emerged from the fitting room, wearing a tight T-shirt that highlighted every muscle in his torso. “What do you think?”

“You look... good.” I murmured, looking away quickly to hide my blush.

“It's too much!” Nejire laughed. “You look like a soap opera hero.”

“And that's bad?” Mirio asked, posing as if he had stepped out of a magazine cover. The buttons on his shirt threatened to fly away at any moment.

“No, but I don't think it's your style.” Nejire replied, tossing him a loose jacket. “Try this.”

As they continued to joke, I tried on a big, soft sweater that made me look like a giant rabbit.

“It looks great on you!” Nejire exclaimed, pointing to me with a dress in his hand. “You look like a stuffed animal.”

“No... I don't think so,.” I murmured, feeling the heat rise on my cheeks, as I desperately wanted to get out of there.

After the shopping –and Nejire, with his inexhaustible energy, took almost half a store– we went for a walk along the river. The afternoon sun reflected off the water, and the air was filled with the fresh scent of freshly cut grass.

“What flavor will you choose this time, Tamaki?” Nejire asked, pointing to an ice cream stand. “Vanilla again?”

“Yes.” I whispered, feeling the weight of routine fall on my shoulders.

“It's classic.” Mirio commented, defending me with a smile. “Like him.”

I didn't know what to say, but I felt a little less ridiculous to see Mirio choose a strawberry ice cream, while Nejire opted for a chocolate one with colored chips. We walked along the river, savoring our ice cream and talking about trivial things: the festival, the classes, and the plans we would make after graduation.

“I want to follow in Sir Nighteye's footsteps.” Mirio said, looking at the water with determination. “I think I can learn a lot from him.”

“I want to travel.” Nejire added, dreamily. “Get to know new places, discover new heroes, live new adventures.”

“And you, Tamaki?” Mirio asked, turning to me. “There are still a couple of years to go, but what do you want to do after we graduate?”

I remained silent, not knowing how to explain that I had no plans for the future, that the only thing I wanted at that very moment was to continue sharing my time with them.

“I don't know.” I murmured, looking at my ice cream, as if I could find an answer in it. “I guess... keep improving.”

Mirio smiled, as if my answer was the wisest in the world.

“That's what I like about you.” he said. “You always think about improving.”

Saturday ended with laughter and melted ice cream, but only one image was etched in my mind: Mirio, in the sun, with his tight T-shirt and a strawberry ice cream, smiling at me. Every moment by his side was a silent reminder of how much I longed to stay in that present, if only in silence.

Sunday dawned calmly, as if the whole world had decided to stop and breathe. After Monday's trance, in which I saw Mirio and my family walk away in that infinite corridor, I began to value every moment with my parents. They weren't movie heroes, but their presence was constant and comforting, like a beacon in the middle of the storm.

“Tamaki, can you help me cut the vegetables?”  My mother asked from the kitchen, in that soft voice that always made me feel at home.

“Yes, of course.” I replied, approaching the table where she had already prepared the ingredients.

As we were chopping carrots and peppers, my father walked into the kitchen, wrapped in his old robe and holding a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

“How about the festival?” He asked, leaning against the counter. “Are you ready to go?”

“Almost.” I murmured, avoiding mentioning the koalas and ridiculous hats that made us laugh so much. “Is... a teamwork.”

“That's good.” my mother said, smiling. “Working as a team helps you grow.”

I nodded, though I wondered inside if I was actually learning to grow or just hiding my true feelings.

After lunch, I retired to my room, that little retreat with bookshelves overflowing with books and a desk where I used to spend hours drawing and writing. But the most valuable and forbidden thing was the black notebook that I kept in the bottom drawer, hidden under a pile of old books. There were phrases that I would never dare to say out loud.

I took it out very carefully, as if it were a sacred relic, and opened the first page. The words were written in trembling handwriting:

"His laughter is like the sound of summer." "How can someone shine so brightly without getting burned?" "Sometimes, I just want to tell him that his light is my only refuge."

With a racing heart, I added a new sentence, letting my thoughts flow on paper:

"In the rain I leaned towards him without realizing it. Will he ever notice that change in angle?"

I closed the notebook, feeling the weight of all my silences pile up on my back, as if every unspoken word was just another brick in the wall I was building around me.

Down there, in the kitchen, my parents talked about simple, everyday things. Meanwhile, in my room, I hid a secret that I could never share with them. What would they say if they knew the truth? Would they understand me?

The sudden ringing of my phone startled me, as if someone had broken into my sanctuary and discovered my secret. The black notebook fell to the floor, and for an instant, my heart beat so hard that it seemed to want to announce my secret to the world.

“Tamaki!” Nejire's cheerful voice on the other end was the cheerful voice. “You're alive?”

“Yes, unfortunately…” I murmured, hurrying to pick up the notebook and hide it back in the drawer. “What's going on?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to tell you something.” she said, laughing. “Do you know what happened to me today? I went to the park and a dog approached me with a stick in its mouth. I thought he wanted to play, but he really just wanted to struggle with the stick!”

I couldn't help but let out a small smile as I imagined the scene. Nejire always had stories full of chaos and laughter, which managed to momentarily dispel my fears.

“And what did you do?” I asked, feeling the initial panic fade.

“I took the stick of him, of course.” she replied, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “But then the dog followed me around the park, as if I were its new owner.”

“That's... fun” I said, not quite knowing what to answer.

“Yes, it was fun.” she added, and after a pause, almost forgetting the subject, she said, “Ah, I almost forgot it! I've already chosen the final name for the café.”

“Yes?” I asked, feeling the anxiety knot in my stomach again.

“Yes.” she said excitedly, her voice brimming with an energy that always managed to make me nervous. “It will be called "Kofi Koala". What do you think?”

“It's... original.” I muttered, not sure what I really thought. All this koala stuff is getting out of hand.

“I know!” Nejire laughed across the line. “Well, tomorrow I will see you at the U.A. to finish the details. Don't be late!”

“No... I won't be late.” I replied in a thin voice.

“Great! See you tomorrow, koala!” she said, hanging up before I could reply.

I stood still, phone in hand, listening to the echo of his words. Kofi Koala. The name was ridiculous, but there was something special about it, like everything Nejire did: it sounded like laughter, warm lights and Mirio smiling under a soft light.

Chapter Text

The classroom was filled with murmurs as soon as Aizawa entered, with that expression of eternal tiredness that made my hair stand on end. Darker even than I am.

“Listen carefully.” he said, leaning firmly on the desk. “Today you have a rescue mission in an urban area affected by minor villains. I will split you into pairs and work together to evacuate civilians and neutralize the threat.”

The murmurs intensified, mingling with nervous laughter and hurried comments. I sank even deeper into my seat; although I preferred field missions instead of spending the morning between theoretical classes and books, the idea still provoked in me a mixture of enthusiasm and laziness.

“Amajiki, Togata.” Aizawa ordered, looking at us with those piercing, jet-black eyes. “The two of you will be a couple.”

I felt my heart beating rapidly. Mirio again? Wasn't there anyone else in the class that I could match up with?

“Great!” Mirio exclaimed, smiling as if he were giving me the best news in the world. “Koalas are back to the rescue.”

“No... I don't think it's funny.” I murmured, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, while whispers could be heard from the background.

“Of course it is!” Nejire laughed from her seat. “Plus, aren't you like those classic hero duos? One bright and the other mysterious... Like the sun and the moon!”

“The sun and the moon?” Mirio asked, raising an eyebrow curiously. “Who's who?”

“That's for you to decide.” Nejire replied, winking at him.

I didn't know what to answer. The sun and the moon? Was that the metaphor that defined us, or just two people who, inexplicably, always ended up together? Mirio smiled, as if each mission was a new adventure, and although I wanted to hide, deep down I knew that there was no one with whom I felt safer.

The mission area was in chaos: a half-collapsed building loomed in front of us like a wounded giant, plumes of smoke rising from broken windows and debris strewn across the ground. Aizawa had given us simple instructions: rescue the trapped civilians and make sure everyone was safe. But, as usual, things didn't go as planned.

“Ready, Tamaki?” Mirio asked, adjusting his gloves with that carefree smile that always gave me confidence.

“Yes.” I murmured, though anxiety ran through every fiber of my body.

“Come on, you're in charge of evacuating the civilians.” Mirio instructed, pointing to the entrance of the building. “I will take care of securing the area.”

I nodded, though I doubted I could do it alone. Before he could reply, Mirio disappeared, using his Quirk to break through a wall and into the building.

Inside, the dense, dusty air mixed with the desperate cries of civilians and the constant noise of falling debris. I activated my Quirk and felt my arms transform into octopus tentacles: strong to move debris and agile to reach those who were trapped.

“This way!” I shouted, helping a woman and her child out from under a fallen beam. “Follow my voice.”

As I led the civilians to the exit, I couldn't stop thinking about Mirio. Where would he be? Would he be safe?

Suddenly, the ground shook under my feet. A man emerged from a cloud of sand, with a crooked smile and eyes full of malice.

“Another hero?” He sneered, laughing. “They don't know how to give up, do they?”

“Tamaki, watch out!” Mirio shouted, appearing out of nowhere to deflect a sand attack with his Quirk.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, panic threatening to overtake me. “You had to secure the area!”

“Change of plans.” Mirio replied, with an enigmatic smile.

“You keep evacuating the civilians.” he ordered, dodging another sand attack. “I take care of him.”

I nodded, although my instinct told me that I didn't want to leave him alone. However, I had no choice. While Mirio distracted the villain, I continued to rescue the civilians, moving debris and guiding them to the exit.

Just when it seemed like everything was under control, a rumble echoed: part of the roof collapsed, and Mirio was trapped under a mountain of rubble before he could react.

“Mirio!” I shouted, running towards him without thinking.

The villain laughed, kicking up more sand to attack me, but I acted quickly. Using the new bag from the support department, I ingested its contents without hesitation, creating a giant clam shell to protect us and push the debris imprisoning Mirio.

“Thank you, Tamaki.” he said, emerging from under the rubble with a smile, despite the blood staining his forehead. “I knew I could count on you.”

Finally, together we managed to neutralize the villain. Mirio used his Permeation to dodge his attacks and distract him, while I pinned down the enemy with my tentacles. We subdued him and called the police to take care of him.

“Good job!” Mirio commented, patting me on the shoulder. “You're amazing, did you know that?”

I didn't know what to answer. Amazing? I had only done what any hero would do. However, seeing his smile, I felt that, perhaps, he was right.

Once we secured all civilians and the villain was arrested, we decided to camp on the outskirts of the affected area. Night had fallen and the cold was noticeable. Mirio found a makeshift shelter under a half-collapsed roof, and together we lit a fire with dry branches, fanned with some duck fat I'd used with my Quirk.

“It's not a fancy hotel, but we'll manage.” Mirio commented, smiling as he sat down by the fire.

I pulled out some of the cooler bags I had gotten from the support department. It wasn't much, but at least we had some food: fish, some veggies, and a couple of hard-boiled eggs.

“Here you go.” I said, handing him a little bag. “It's not much, but it's better than nothing.”

“Thank you, Tamaki.” he replied, opening the bag carefully. “You are a lifesaver.”

We sat in silence for a long moment, accompanied only by the crackling of the fire and the distant murmur of police cars in the distance. The atmosphere was charged with an almost unreal calm, until something caught my attention: the wound on Mirio's forehead. The blood, already coagulated but still visible, contrasted with the softness of his skin.

“Your forehead.” I murmured, pointing to the small cut. “Does it hurt?”

He touched the wound with his fingers and, with a mixture of indifference and naturalness, replied:

“This? No, it's just a scratch.”

But I couldn't accept that answer. With trembling hands, I took a clean gauze pad out of my bag —I always had it at hand— and insisted:

“No... It's not just a scratch. Let me clean it up for you.”

Mirio did not protest. He leaned towards me, and in that instant, every sound and every movement of the environment faded away, as if time had stopped around me. We were so close that I could feel his hot breath brush against my neck, mixed with the lingering scent of smoke and sweat that enveloped him. Carefully, and feeling my heart pounding in my chest, I cleaned the wound, trying to keep my composure despite the intimate closeness.

“Thank you.” he said, smiling matter-of-factly. “You're very careful.”

“It's... it's the bare mínimum.” I murmured, looking away quickly before I noticed how intensely his presence blushed me.

After that tender moment, we sat down again by the fire, sharing the food in a silence that seemed to speak for itself. However, my mind was filled with words, accumulating like stagnant water: how could he be so carefree? How could he be so brave in the face of danger, so sure of himself?

When we finish eating, we get ready to sleep. The hard, cold ground mingled with the warm glow of the fire, which barely managed to counteract the cold of the night. I lay on my back, letting my gaze wander into the sky through the debris filtered by the stars.

“Good night, Tamaki.” Mirio whispered, settling down beside me.

“Good night.” I murmured, feeling the tiredness slowly take hold of me.

That's when something unexpected happened. At first, the touch was so subtle that I thought it was a dream. An alien warmth, a presence that was noticeable in the semi-darkness. My breathing stopped for an instant, as if my own body feared to break the magic of the moment.

I felt, almost imperceptibly, the slight weight of an arm around me. The warm touch of his skin against mine awakened a wave of emotions in me: my heart pounded hard against my ribs cage, betraying the whirlwind of feelings that was unleashed in my chest. I didn't move; I couldn't move. I wanted to stay in that fusion of warmth and closeness, without breaking the perfection of that moment.

The air became dense, as if the whole world had been reduced to that small space shared between our bodies, evoking that time on the floor of his room. His breath gently brushed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine, a mixture of nerves and a contained happiness that made me want to smile and tremble at the same time.

I could pretend that I was still asleep, that this wasn't happening, even though my skin burned with every passing second. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to impress on my memory that sensation so ephemeral and so intense, as if I wanted to keep it forever.

And then, as if fearing the spell would be broken, I gently exhaled the air I didn't know I was holding, letting myself relax in his embrace. I didn't know if it was an accident, or if in his dream his body unconsciously sought mine, but at that precise moment, nothing else mattered. It only mattered that he was there, hugging me, and that without the need for words, I felt exactly where I wanted to be.

With dawn, a dim light began to sneak through the rubble of the shelter. I woke up slowly, feeling the cold of the ground under my back and noticing the emptiness left by the absence of Mirio's warmth, who was no longer by my side. I opened my eyes and saw him standing, reaching up to the sky with that innate confidence that always made him great. The light of the rising sun illuminated his silhouette, highlighting every muscle in his torso as he raised his arms in a gesture of welcome to the new day. I stood motionless, watching it from my position on the ground, as if it were a living painting that I did not dare to interrupt. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to admire him without fear of being discovered, noticing how his breathing synchronized with the movement of his shoulders, and how, barely, a smile was drawn on his lips, as if the new day were a personal gift only for him.

Mirio turned his head and, with that smile that always seemed to say "everything is fine", he looked at me and said:

“Good morning.”

“Good morning...” I murmured, getting up quickly and avoiding his gaze, afraid that he would discover how much each of his gestures affected me, how much they remained engraved in my mind like unmentionable photographs.

The return to the U.A. was silent, but not uncomfortable. We walked under a sky that was tinged with white and gold hues, accompanied only by the singing of birds. Mirio was a step ahead, but every now and then he would stop to make sure I was following him. Although he didn't say anything, his quick gaze and ephemeral smile reminded me that, even though I sometimes felt invisible, he always saw me.

The rest of the week passed without major shocks. Classes, exams and training followed one another with the same monotonous routine, that same monotony that, deep down, was strangely comforting to me. I spent hours in the library with Nejire and Mirio, surrounded by piles of books and messy notes. Nejire talked incessantly, asking questions that sometimes left everyone perplexed, while Mirio tried to concentrate on his notes, although he was inevitably distracted by some absurd story or a weak joke. I just listened, sometimes smiling unintentionally, and other times sinking into my seat to hide how much those moments meant to me.

But even in the apparent calm, there was something I couldn't ignore. Every time Mirio laughed, every time he looked at me with those intense blue eyes, I felt something inside me crumble a little more. It was as if every day I fought a silent battle between the desire to get closer and the fear of losing him. And while I didn't yet know how that internal struggle would end, one thing was for sure: as long as he kept smiling, I would still be there, holding on to every moment, trying not to fade away completely.

Chapter Text

The gym resonated with the murmur of students as Aizawa explained the exercise: a circuit where one would guide the other, who would be blindfolded, using only verbal instructions. The objective was clear: to reach the end without hitting the obstacles.

Mirio turned to me with that radiant smile, like a sunrise.

“How about we do it together?” he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I looked at him, feeling my heart beat faster. Why did he always choose me? Why didn't he get with someone safer, stronger, more... like him?

“Eh... if you don't mind.” I muttered, avoiding his gaze as I fiddled with the edge of my sleeve.

“Of course!” he said, smiling. “With you it's always funnier.”

I didn't know what to answer. I looked around and saw Nejire approaching Yuyu, her friend from class B, with a mischievous smile.

“Yuyu, let's get together!” Nejire said, hugging her shoulders. “You guide, I let myself go.”

Yuyu laughed, though she seemed a little uncomfortable with Nejire's enthusiasm.

“You always end up dragging me into your follies.” she said, but she accepted the blindfold that Nejire extended to her.

I turned my gaze to Mirio, who was already holding a bandage in his hand.

“Ready?” He asked, in that voice that always seemed to know exactly how to calm me down.

I nodded, though I wasn't really sure I was. I put the blindfold on my eyes, and the world turned dark. Suddenly, everything seemed bigger, more threatening.

“One step forwar.” Mirio said, with that calmness that always tried to infect me. “Now turn a little to the right... Perfect!”

We move slowly, with my hands outstretched in front of me, looking for something to hold on to. Each step was a battle between the fear of stumbling and the confidence that Mirio would not let me fall.

“There is an obstacle to your left.” he continued. “Take a bigger step... That's it!”

For a moment, I felt as if I was floating, as if his words were an invisible thread guiding me through the darkness. But then, I heard a loud noise to my right, and panic took over.

“Wait.” I murmured, stopping in my tracks. “What was that?”

“It's just Nejire tripping over a cone.” Mirio said, laughing. “Don't worry, you're doing well.”

I took a deep breath and kept moving forward, trusting his instructions.

“A little more,” he said, in that voice that disarmed me. “we're almost there!

Finally, I felt his hand on my shoulder, stopping me gently.

“You can take off the blindfold.” he said, smiling. “You did great.”

I took off the blindfold and blinked, adjusting to the light. Mirio was in front of me, smiling at me. I felt butterflies flutter in my stomach.

“Thank you.” I murmured, blushing slightly. “I wouldn't have been able to do it without you.”

“Nonsense!” he said, patting me on the back. “You're my best friend, Tamaki. Never doubt that you can count on me.”

His words echoed in my mind, mingling with a stomachache. The butterflies vanished suddenly. Friend. The word was simple, but at the time, I felt like it weighed more than anything else. Was that what we were? Just friends? Of course.

Mirio laughed, as if he hadn't noticed the storm that his words had unleashed inside me.

“Let's go.” he said, pointing to the next obstacle. “Now it's my turn.”

I nodded, though I wasn't really sure I could guide him as well as he had with me. But when I stood behind him and put the blindfold on him, I felt something inside me calm down.

“Trust me.” I said, in a voice firmer than I expected. “I will guide you.”

Mirio smiled, as if he had no doubts.

“I always do.” he said, beginning to walk carelessly.

That same week, something happened that reminded me how fragile the balance between what I felt and what I showed could be. It was a day like any other, or at least that's what I thought when I left the classroom after class. The hallway was filled with students chatting, laughing, and pacing, but something caught my attention: a freshman girl, her face flushed and a letter in her hands, was approaching Mirio with hesitant steps.

I stopped in my tracks, as if reality was paused. Mirio was talking to Nejire, but upon seeing the girl, he turned to her with that gentle expression that always made him seem approachable, even to the shyest.

“H-Hello.” the girl said, her voice so low that it could barely be heard. “This... this is for you.”

She handed him the letter, and Mirio took it carefully, as if it were something fragile. The girl muttered something else, too fast for me to understand, and then ran away, leaving Mirio with the letter in his hand and a surprised expression on his face.

Nejire laughed, nudging Mirio.

“Another secret admirer!” she said, with that energy that always seemed to overflow. “What does it say this time?”

Mirio opened the letter and read it silently. I stood still, watching from a distance, feeling the air choking me with each passing second. Finally, Mirio folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

“It's very sweet.” he said, with a soft smile. “But it's not for me.”

“Aren't you going to answer her?” Nejire asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Of course I'll do.” Mirio replied, with that calmness that always characterized him. “But I don't want to give her false hope.”

Nejire nodded, as if she understood perfectly, but I couldn't take my eyes off Mirio. How could he be so kind, so considerate, even at a time like that? How could he reject someone without making her feel bad?

Later, when the girl returned, Mirio approached her with his usual naturalness. They spoke in low voices, and although I couldn't hear everything they were saying, I saw the girl nod, with a sad but grateful smile. Then, she walked away, and Mirio returned to my side as if nothing had happened.

“Are you okay?” I asked, unable to help myself.

“Yes, of course.” he said, smiling. “I just wanted to be honest with her. It's not fair to pretend something I don't feel.”

His words resonated in my mind. Was that what I was doing? Pretending that I didn't feel anything, that I didn't want more than we had? I looked at Mirio, trying to find some sign, some clue that maybe he felt something else. But his expression was the same as always: kind, carefree, unreachable.

That night, as I lay in my bed, I couldn't help but think about the girl and how she had been rejected so kindly. Would that be my future? Would I confess my feelings only to have him tell me that he didn't want to give me false hope? The idea terrified me, but it also made me wonder if it was worth it to keep hiding.

The U.A. workshop had become a hive of activity in the weeks leading up to the festival. Tables full of scattered materials and tools gave shape to an environment that smelled intensely of freshly cut wood and creative effort. Nejire had claimed a corner as her personal studio; there, brushes, paint cans and scattered papers combined to bring to life a mural of koalas that she said would make our stand the center of attention at the festival.

“Tamaki, look at this!” she shouted excitedly, raising a brush stained with blue paint. “Don't you think this koala needs a chef's hat?”

Intrigued, I went over to contemplate her work. There was a smiling koala, dressed in an apron and with exaggeratedly large ears that gave him a comical but endearing air.

“It's... original.” I said, trying to contain a smile that threatened to overflow.

“Original is not enough!” she answered, laughing loudly. “This is going to be the most watched of the festival, I assure you.”

As Nejire indulged in the mural, I made my way to the makeshift kitchen we'd set up in another corner of the workshop. I had decided to try a koala-shaped cookie recipe, although the uncertainty about how they would turn out was with me. I put on my apron and started mixing the ingredients, letting the comforting scent of butter and vanilla fill the air and calm my nerves.

“Do you need help?” Mirio asked, appearing out of nowhere with a saw in hand and a smile that radiated confidence.

“No... I think I can handle it.” I murmured, though deep down I wasn't entirely convinced of my ability.

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” he said, pointing to the tables and chairs he was building with a skill that only he seemed to possess.

I watched Mirio as he worked; each of his movements was so precise and natural that he seemed to have been born to transform wood into something useful and, at the same time, beautiful. I stood for a moment, absorbed, admiring how each board and nail became part of a whole.

“Tamaki, watch out!” Nejire shouted, interrupting my thoughts and making me jump. “The dough is slipping away from you!”

I turned my gaze to the bowl and saw, to my horror, that the dough was beginning to overflow. Quickly, I picked it up with a spatula and remixed it, feeling the heat rise up my cheeks as I struggled to maintain control.

“Thank you...” I murmured, doubting whether Nejire had noticed my clumsiness.

Finally, the cookies were ready to bake. With great care, I placed them on the tray, carefully modeling them so that they were shaped like koalas, with round ears and crooked smiles that gave them a friendly touch. While waiting for them to bake, I approached Mirio to see how the construction of the tables was going.

“How are you?” I asked, watching him nail a board with enviable precision.

“Pretty Good.” he replied, smiling as pearly beads of sweat slid down his forehead. “Although I think this table has more personality than I expected.”

I looked towards the table in question, noticing one leg slightly shorter than the others.

“It's unique.” I said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“That's a kind way of saying it.” he laughed, letting out a laugh. “But hey, it gives it character.”

When the cookies were done, I took them out of the oven and placed them on a plate. Soon, both Nejire and Mirio approached, attracted by the sweet scent that permeated the workshop.

“It smells incredible!” Nejire exclaimed, picking up a biscuit excitedly. “Can I try one?”

“Sure.” I murmured, feeling my heart beat faster, afraid the taste wouldn't live up to our expectations.

Nejire bit into the cookie, and instantly, her eyes lit up.

“It's delicious!” she exclaimed, her mouth full, letting out a contagious laugh. “This has to be the star dish of the Kofi Koala.”

Mirio also picked up a cookie, tasted it, and smiled as he chewed with satisfaction.

“Tamaki, this is amazing.” he said, with a sincerity that made me feel like I was floating. “How do you make everything you cook taste so good?”

“It's... just practice.” I murmured, trying to minimize my efforts.

“Well, keep practicing.” Nejire said, taking another cookie. “Because this is pure gold.”

We sat together at one of the tables Mirio had built, sharing the cookies and laughing at the crooked shapes of the koalas. Although I knew I still needed to practice the way and cooking time, for a first try, the result wasn't bad at all.

In a moment of complicity, Mirio leaned over to me, and with a cookie crumb at the corner of his mouth, said:

“ have something here.”

Before I could react, he wiped the flour from my cheek with his thumb, smiling in a way that disarmed any shyness.

“It's better that way.” he commented, calmly and smilingly.

I didn't know what to answer. Instead, I focused on the cookies, the laughter that echoed in the workshop, and the heady smell of wood and sugar that permeated everything.

That night, my room fell into a quiet silence, interrupted only by the soft ticking of the wall clock. I lay down in bed, letting the fatigue of the day sink into every muscle, and I thought about the workshop, the cookies and the laughter shared with Nejire and Mirio, as if everything had happened in the blink of an eye.

For the first time in a long time, the idea of the festival didn't seem so scary to me. Perhaps it was the atmosphere of the workshop, the unique combination of smells, and the way both Mirio and Nejire transformed each task into a fun adventure. Even the idea of being the cooker and waiter at the Kofi Koala was starting to have a certain charm. Maybe it's not so bad, I thought, remembering how Mirio had smiled at me when he tasted my cookies.

But then, like an unexpected bolt of lightning in the middle of the calm, I remembered something that made me tense: Mirio's birthday was the following weekend.

I sat on the bed, staring at the open notebook on the desk. The pages were filled with recipe sketches, ideas for the café menu, and in one corner, a small drawing of a koala in a chef's hat that Nejire had carefully drawn. I got up, walked over to the desk, and flipped through the pages until I found a blank page.

“What could I give him?” I murmured, holding the pencil in a trembling hand.

The idea of creating something handmade came immediately: something that reflected my feelings without the need for words. Maybe a necklace, a bracelet or even a small painting with photos of us. A bolder thought crossed my mind at once: what if I confessed my feelings to him?

I froze on the spot, my pencil suspended over the page. The idea was tantalizing but terrifying at the same time. I remembered the freshman girl, with her pink letter and her sad smile when she was rejected. The kindness, sincerity, and the way Mirio never hurt anyone made everything even harder.

“I can't.” I whispered, putting my pencil down on the desk. “I can't risk losing him.”

I returned to my bed, feeling the weight of those thoughts sink into me. I looked at the ceiling, imagining the stars hiding behind the walls. Perhaps the festival would be an opportunity to show Mirio what I really felt. But for now, I decided to focus on his birthday present. Something small, meaningful, something that only the two of us could understand… With that determination, I closed my eyes and let myself be carried away by exhaustion.

To no one's surprise I ended up dreaming in a disgusting way about koalas and cookies.

Chapter Text

The library was in an almost sacred silence, broken only by the slight turning of the pages and the occasional whisper of some student concentrating on their reading. We had made ourselves comfortable at a table near the window; I was reading my notebook and my notes, while Mirio was a little further away, absorbed in a book of combat strategies. Nejire, on the other hand, seemed to have put aside the study altogether.

“Tamaki.” she whispered, leaning toward me with a mischievous smile that matched the dim light of the afternoon. “I need to talk to you privately.”

“Now?” I asked quietly, casting a furtive glance at Mirio out of the corner of my eye, making sure he didn't hear us.

“Yes, now.” Nejire replied, dragging her chair closer to mine. “It's about Mirio's birthday.”

In that instant, my heart skipped a beat. I had been trying not to think too much about the birthday, but every time I did, I felt my face turn pale.

“What about his birthday?” I murmured, keeping my gaze fixed on my notebook, as if I could find answers there.

“I've thought of something.” Nejire said, lowering her voice even lower, as if it were an unspeakable secret. “We could arrange a night at my house. Something intimate: homemade food, board games, movies... what do you think?”

I found the idea pleasant, although also a bit overwhelming. An entire night with Mirio, without the distractions of training or classes, sounded like the perfect opportunity to confess what I kept inside, but at the same time I was terrified to think about what could happen.

“Eh... It's all right.” I said, trying to hide my nervousness and avoiding her intense gaze. “What do you need me to do?”

“You'll take care of cooking something Delicious.” she said in the tone of a demanding boss. “You know you're the best at it. I'll take care of the raspberry pie that he likes so much.”

I nodded, although I had doubts inside: should I cook something simple or take a chance on something special? How could I get each bite to say what I couldn't put into words?

“I already have his gift.” Nejire continued, pulling from her backpack a bottle of wine hidden under the table. “Check this out.”

The bottle bore a hand-drawn label: a koala and a grape vine holding hands, and underneath it read: "Koala Wine: To soften hearts."

“It's... funny?” I commented, trying to contain a smile that threatened to come out.

“Isn't it?” she answered, laughing knowingly. “But tell me, do you know what you're going to give him?”

At that moment, I felt my hands start to sweat. All the gifts I had thought of seemed to be loaded with too deep feelings, something I wasn't ready to share yet.

“Eh... I'll buy him something.” I murmured, looking away. “I don't know, something useful.”

Nejire looked at me with an expression I couldn't decipher, as if assessing whether my words were hiding anything else.

“Useful, eh?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Well, he'll surely like whatever you give him.”

I looked at Mirio, who was still concentrating on his book, oblivious to our conversation. What would he like? What could I give him that wasn't too obvious or too personal?

“Well, I'll tell you more details” Nejire said, rising from her chair with confidence. “But don't worry, it's going to be great.”

I nodded silently as Nejire walked away, and stared at the open notebook on the table. Perhaps, I thought, I could find a way to express what I felt without the need for words. But for now, I decided to focus on planning dinner: something special, something that only the three of us could understand. With that idea in mind, I looked back at Mirio, feeling my heart beat with renewed energy.

The week leading up to the festival became a whirlwind of activity. The halls of the U.A. were full of students running from one place to another, carrying boxes, posters and all kinds of materials. The air vibrated with the sound of hammers, laughter, and screams as someone tripped over a pile of objects.

We were no less in the midst of the chaos. Between the three of us we had managed to finish the assembly of the Kofi Koala stand, although there were still details to be polished. Nejire was focused on painting the finishing touches on the koala mural, while I took care of receiving the ingredients and organizing the kitchen. Mirio, on the other hand, was on the floor, sanding and varnishing the tables he had built, every stroke and every movement showed his unwavering passion.

“Tamaki, I need more blue paint!” Nejire shouted from the ladder, holding a paintbrush in one hand and a can of paint in the other.

“Eh... Yes, right now.” I muttered, carefully setting down the boxes of ingredients on the counter and heading for more paint.

“And I need someone to help me hold this board!” Mirio said, raising one hand as he held a board with the other.

“I'm coming...” I said, feeling the tiredness begin to take hold of me, but at the same time feeling a strange vital energy in the midst of the chaos.

Still, there was something about the atmosphere that made me feel alive: perhaps it was the infectious energy of the other students or the way Mirio and Nejire turned every assignment into an adventure. Even the smell of fresh wood and paint was comforting to me, as if confirming that everything was going well.

Finally, the stand was ready. The tables glistened in the sunlight, Nejire's mural was an explosion of colors, and the kitchen was organized and ready to go. We stared at our work, feeling a mixture of pride and relief, although my mind was still a sea of doubt.

“This is going to be amazing!” Nejire exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Don't you think?”

“Yes.” I murmured, even though my mind was full of uncertainty.

“Of course I do.” Mirio said, patting me on the shoulder confidently. “With Tamaki in the kitchen, there's no way we're going to fail.”

In the midst of that hustle and bustle, there was a moment of calm. During a theory class, Aizawa told us about a retired hero whose Quirk allowed him to manipulate light.

“This hero,” Aizawa said, in his usual monotonous tone, “didn't use his power just to fight; he used it to guide others, to light the way in the darkest moments.”

The class fell into attentive silence. I watched Mirio, who took notes with unusual concentration, almost as if each word were a spark in the darkness.

“Light,” Aizawa continued, “is most valuable in the dark. It is in those moments when we need it most, even if we do not see it.”

Mirio raised his head and looked at me, as if he had sensed my gaze. He smiled at me, and I blushed, hurriedly lowering my head to my notebook, pretending I was just taking notes.

Mirio had insisted that this restaurant was one of the best in the city. "You have to try it," he had told us with his typical radiant smile, the one that, effortlessly, made my world seem a little less scary. So there we stood, Nejire and I, sitting at a table near the bar, the menu in our hands, while the soft clinking of silverware and the murmur of conversations created a lively atmosphere in the background.

But something wasn't right. Nejire, who was normally so cheerful and vivacious, had been frowning at his phone for a while. It was very rare to see her distracted, especially when there was delicious food involved.

“What's wrong?” I asked, trying not to sound too worried, although deep down I knew something didn't fit.

“It's Mirio.” she replied with a sigh. “He says he can't come. An unforeseen event has arisen.”

At that moment, I felt my heart sink a little, as if someone were squeezing it with an invisible hand. I couldn't get angry with him; after all, I had never done it. But disappointment tangled in my throat, leaving me speechless.

“Ah…” I murmured, my eyes sweeping over the menu with an intensity that even I didn't understand. “Well, I guess we'll have to eat without him.”

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable, but neither was it light. I felt Nejire's gaze fixed on me, as if she was trying to guess something beyond my words, and the worst part was that she seemed able to read my secrets without me speaking.

“Are you okay?” she asked, leaning slightly toward me, her voice exuding sincere concern.

My first impulse was to say yes, of course. I have always answered in the affirmative, even when deep down my heart was struggling with doubts and fears.

“Yes, of course.” I finally said, though my voice sounded so unconvincing that even I could see its fragility.

Nejire didn't insist, which I deeply appreciated, and the dinner continued between small talk. We talked about the cultural festival, the classes we had, and even Mirio's impending birthday. But every time his name came up, I felt a sharp pang in my chest, an indescribable mixture of emotion and anguish. It's always like that with him: being close to him is so easy and yet scary, and when he's not around, it feels like something fundamental is missing.

Then, in the middle of the talk, Nejire changed the subject with surprising naturalness.

“Hey, Tamaki.” she said, fiddling absentmindedly with her fork as if that action were the most normal part of the evening. “Why do you never date anyone?”

The air suddenly became more intense. My fingers twitched around the cutlery, and at that precise moment, I realized that there were seemingly innocuous questions hiding mines beneath the surface. This was one of them.

“Eh... I don't know.” I murmured, avoiding the intense gaze, trying not to let my words reveal too much. “I guess I haven't found anyone I really like.”

The lie crept into my words, and I could see how Nejire raised an eyebrow, as if the truth were written on my face and not on my lips.

”Really?” she asked with a mischievous smile that momentarily illuminated the gloom inside me. “Because I think there is someone you like.”

My stomach shrank, and the heart began to pound, out of sync, pounding my ribs as if to escape. How does she knows? How obvious have I been?

“No... I don't know what you're talking about.” I tried to deny, but my own voice trembled, betraying my vulnerability.

The heat rose to my cheeks uncontrollably. Damn, I thought. I didn't know if it was because of the fireplace that burned softly in the corner of the room or because my whole body had rebelled to confess without words what I was so afraid to admit.

Nejire leaned a little more, and in her gaze was a mixture of understanding and mischief, the same expression she used to have when she was about to discover a closely guarded secret.

“Come on, Tamaki. You don't need to tell me, I think I already know.”

Every part of me wanted to disappear in that instant. I wanted to sink into the seat, dilute myself in the air, disappear without a trace.

“It's Mirio, isn't it?” She asked in a soft, comforting voice, like one used to quiet the fears of a small child.

At that precise moment, the world seemed to stop. The jingle of cutlery, the conversations around us, and even the distant murmur of the city behind the window faded away, leaving only the deafening beat of my heart.

“Uh...” I tried to speak, but my voice trailed off, betraying me by not being able to articulate what I longed to say. The simple fact of not saying no already gave me away.

Nejire smiled, and her smile seemed to confirm everything I feared and longed for.

“Don't worry.” she continued, in a genuine, mocking tone. “It's not that weird, you know? Although I don't know many cases of guys dating other guys, deep down, I think it's great.”

My throat closed immediately. I didn't know if it was relief or fear that I felt at that very moment; the internal conflict was overwhelming.

“It's just…” I tried to start, but the words stuck in my mouth, unable to form a full statement.

It's just that I don't know if it's okay to feel this. It's just that I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to say it out loud. It's just that, if I confessed it to Mirio, and he didn't feel the same way... what would I do then?

“You don't need to tell me.” Nejire repeated, in that soft, reassuring voice that always makes me feel understood. “But if you ever want to talk, here I am.”

And at that moment, without thinking too much, the words came out in a whisper, barely audible, but so charged with truth that they landed on my shoulders and left me exhausted.

“Yes... it is Mirio.”

Nejire didn't look surprised at all. Instead, she smiled inexhaustiblely, the one that made her so special and unique.

“Well, I think you should tell him.” she said, with the naturalness of one who understands the complexity of the heart. “Wouldn't it be great if you liked each other? My best gay friends together.”

Fear enveloped me again.

“I don't know…” I murmured, feeling the heat return to my face, leaving me in a state of uncertainty.

I didn't know if I could stand a rejection. I didn't know if I would risk losing him, losing Mirio.

“Well, we'll see.” Nejire replied, her tone light enough not to press me, but at the same time hinting at her desire to see us happy. “But if you need help, I'm willing to play Celestina.”

A soft laugh escaped me, more like an exhalation of resignation than a response. I didn't know what would happen next, I didn't know if I would ever have the courage to act on what I felt. But at that very moment, at least, I no longer felt alone with those feelings.

That moment, full of silent confession and the hope of a possible reciprocated love, marked a before and after in my heart. Although I feared rejection, I also realized that the first step was to acknowledge my truth, however small and fearful it was. And while Nejire smiled at me with that inexhaustible energy, I promised myself that, one day, I would have the courage to tell Mirio, without fear of losing him.

Chapter Text

Nejire's living room was filled with boxes, garlands of lights, and rolls of colored paper. I held a garland in my hand, trying hard not to trip over the wires snaking across the floor, while Nejire excitedly hung photos of the three of us on a wall. There was one from our first year at the U.A., another from when we won a team training, and a more recent one, in which we were setting up the Kofi Koala stand.

“Do you think this is enough?” I asked, my eyes going over the pile of decorations still to be placed, feeling that every detail counted for the surprise to be perfect.

“Of course not!” Nejire said with a laugh, letting out a contagious laugh. “But we have to do it fast. Mirio will not be long in coming.”

“Have you called him yet?” I asked, noticing my heartbeat racing in anticipation.

“Yes, I told him I needed urgent help with a class Project.” she replied with a mischievous smile, so sure of herself that she seemed to enjoy every moment. “He loves to feel useful, so it won't take long for him to appear.”

I nodded, though deep down I wasn't sure I wanted it to come so soon. Every time I thought about the surprise, the dinner and the gift, a pang of nervousness ran through my interior.

“Hey, Tamaki.” Nejire said, gesturing to a box in the corner with a lively gesture. “Can you take out that stuffed koala? I want to put it in the center of the table.”

“The koala?” I asked, raising an eyebrow with a mixture of doubt and amusement. “Isn't it a little... overstated?”

“Not at all!” she replied, laughing heartily. “It's our symbol, remember? In addition, it will give a special touch to all this.”

I didn't answer, but I went to the box and took out the stuffed koala. It was small, with round ears and a wide smile, as innocent as a childhood memory. I carefully placed it in the center of the table, feeling how little by little the idea of koalas was embedded in me: Mirio, the big and cheerful koala, and me, the small and shy koala.

“It's better that way,” Nejire continued, smiling broadly. “Now all that's left is for Mirio to arrive.”

And just at that moment, the sound of the door opening made us both jump. Nejire gave me a quick glance, as if to make sure I was ready, and then ran to the entrance with a handful of confetti in hand. I stayed behind, nervous to see him again, noticing that he would now look a year older, a little more mature.

“Happy birthday!” Nejire shouted, tossing the confetti into the air in a burst of color just as he entered the room.

Mirio stopped short, with an expression of surprise that quickly transformed into a radiant smile.

“What is all this?” He asked, looking around as streamers fell softly on his head.

“It's your surprise party!” Nejire exclaimed, hugging him tightly, revealing all the accumulated affection and emotion. “We couldn't let your 18th birthday go by without celebrating it.”

I stood still, watching the scene from a distance, while Mirio looked at me with that smile that always seemed to illuminate everything around him and extended an arm towards me.

“Come on, Tamaki!” he said, laughing and cheering me up. “Don't stop there.”

I approached slowly, feeling the weight of the situation rest on me, mingling with a strange happiness. Nejire grabbed my arm and dragged me into the group embrace. For a brief moment, I felt Mirio's comforting warmth enveloping me; his arm was gently on my shoulder, and his laughter echoed in my ears like the most beautiful melody. That instant, fleeting but eternal, made my heart leap.

“Thank you, guys.” Mirio said, parting from the group hug with a smile that radiated gratitude. “This is unbelievable.”

“Don't get excited yet.” Nejire added, winking at him mischievously. “The best part is yet to come.”

The dinner took place in a quiet atmosphere, full of laughter and casual conversations. I had made okonomiyaki, that Japanese savory dish that Mirio and I used to share in our early years of friendship, and which now connected me with memories of simpler days.

“This is delicious, Tamaki.” Mirio said, savoring a bite. “Do you remember the first time we did it together?”

I nodded, feeling flushed as I evaded his gaze, mentally reliving those moments when I didn't even know how to peel an onion.

“Yes... It was in high school...” I murmured, with a mixture of nostalgia and shyness. “We didn't even know how to start.”

“And now you're a professional chef.” Nejire laughed, letting out a laugh. “Who would have thought?”

As we ate, the conversation slipped into festival preparations and birthday plans. Nejire, always with her mischievous touch, kept making comments that subtly recalled that conversation we had in the restaurant a few days ago.

“Hey, Mirio,” she said, pointing to a bottle of wine she'd brought with her. “This is my gift to you.”

Mirio picked up the bottle and read the hand-drawn label: "Koala Wine: To soften hearts."

“This is awesome, Nejire," he said, laughing. “Did you do that?”

“Sure.” she said, a smile that lit up her face. “Although I think Tamaki has something even more special for you.”

The atmosphere suddenly became tense when Nejire mentioned my gift. I felt the air thicken, every second prolonged, and Mirio looked at me curiously. With trembling hands, I reached for the bag I had brought and handed it to him.

“It's... It's not a big deal.” I murmured, avoiding his gaze so as not to betray my nervousness.

Mirio took the bag very carefully, as if something fragile and valuable was inside. He opened it slowly and took out a simple, hardcover notebook with pages full of scribbles and drawings. As he turned the first page, he came across a drawing that captured a memory from our childhood: the two of us falling into the river after Mirio insisted on jumping off a rock.

“Is it... that day?” Mirio asked, with a genuine smile that seemed to transport him back to those carefree days.

“Yes.” I said, feeling more and more blushing. “It is that memory.”

Mirio turned the pages of the notebook carefully, pausing on each drawing. There was one from when we stayed up late studying for an exam; another, from the day we were punished for speaking in class; one more, from that rainy afternoon in which we shared his broken umbrella; and the most recent, when he built the tables and chairs for the Kofi Koala stand.

“This is incredible, Tamaki.” he said in a whisper, his voice almost imperceptible. “I didn't know you remembered all this.”

“It's... It's just a few memories with you.” I murmured, feeling torn between joy and anxiety at having revealed so much. Perhaps I had shared more than I should have.

Mirio continued to turn the pages until he stopped at one on which was a phrase written: "Light is not afraid to shine."

That was one of the phrases I wrote one day in my secret notebook. The only one I dared to share with him.

“Did you write this?” He asked, looking at me with those intense blue eyes that seemed more and more revealing to me.

“Yes.” I answered, my heart pounding so hard that it seemed to want to break the silence.

Mirio closed the notebook, and looked at me with an enigmatic expression.

“It's the most special gift I've ever received.” he said in a whisper, his voice full of emotion. “Thank you, Tamaki.”

He came over and, without saying a word, hugged me. I didn't answer, I just let myself be enveloped by that warm embrace, enjoying the comforting aroma of his shampoo that blended with the atmosphere.

Nejire watched us from across the table, with a mischievous smile that left no room for doubt. She was enjoying the momento too.

“Well, I think this deserves a toast.” she interrupted us, raising her glass of wine excitedly. “For Mirio, for his birthday, and for the moments that are yet to come.”

We raised our glasses and toasted, and Mirio's words echoed in my mind: "It's the most special gift I've ever received." Maybe, just maybe, he also felt something similar to what I kept deep inside me.

The atmosphere was permeated with subtle hope. Between laughter, complicit glances and that notebook full of memories, the possibility of a shared future was hinted at, a path that, despite doubts and fears, promised to be genuinely ours.

As the night progressed and the lights dimmed, each one withdrew into their thoughts, leaving in the air the feeling that, sometimes, the most valuable thing is found in the details and in the shared silences. Perhaps, in time, the words that I am silent about today will be transformed into confessions, and the future will find us together, without reservation, ready to embrace whatever fate throws at us.

After dinner, the atmosphere became more intimate. Nejire took out a box of Dixit and placed it on the table with a dramatic gesture, as if she was about to reveal a wonderful secret. With a contagious energy, she announced:

“It's time to see who has the most imagination!”

As she eagerly dealt the cards, she explained that the game consisted of choosing cards that matched the clue that the narrator offered. Then, each player voted on what they thought was the narrator's card among many options. The images, so abstract and enigmatic, made the game a subjective, almost magical experience, in which each interpretation could have multiple meanings.

Mirio settled into the center of the sofa, inviting Nejire and me to sit next to him. I stood still, feeling the warmth of his body as it subtly brushed against mine; every movement of his caused our shoulders to meet, and I struggled not to think too much about what that meant for me. Every touch was a mixture of comfort and torment, a silent reminder of what I often wanted to say but that my shyness always denied.

“I'm going first.” Nejire said, choosing a chart that showed a ship sailing under the moon, and announcing aloud: “When the world seems too big.” Her tone was playful and at the same time mysterious, inviting us to get into the game.

Mirio and I exchanged knowing glances, trying to decipher which was the correct card. At the end of that round, Mirio won, and at that instant Nejire cast a mischievous glance in my direction, as if she knew that I was too distracted to focus on the game and that my thoughts wandered to forbidden places.

“Your turn, Tamaki.” Mirio said, handing me the cards with a confidence that made my skin crawl.

With trembling hands, I chose an image showing a lonely lighthouse in the middle of a storm, and announced in a low voice:

“The Light in the Darkness.”

I tried to avoid looking at Mirio, but I couldn't help but feel that choice resonate with something deep within me. Nejire smiled, as if she had understood the secret I refused to admit. Mirio, for his part, chose the right card without hesitation, and commented with a laugh:

“That was too obvious. Like you, Tamaki.”

I didn't know what to answer at the time. So I focused on the game, on the laughter that was mixed with the clinking of glasses and the wine we continued to drink. Every time our shoulders touched, my heart pounded, reminding me of the involuntary intimacy of those encounters, the closeness that made me doubt and dream in equal parts.

Once the game was over, Nejire put on an animated film. I can't remember exactly what it was about, only that there was magic, adventure, and a subtle message about friendship that seemed to fit perfectly with the atmosphere we had created. Mirio settled back on the sofa, and both Nejire and I sat down next to him, in a kind of cozy circle.

“Popcorn with wine?” I asked, looking at Nejire with a mixture of disbelief and tenderness, as if the idea were as surreal as it was perfect.

“It's the perfect combination!” she exclaimed, passing me a bowl full of popcorn. “Sweet and salty, like life itself.”

Nejire gave me knowing glances, so full of meaning that she seemed to read exactly what was going on in my mind. At one point, she leaned over to me and commented playfully:

“Hey, Tamaki, aren't you cold? You should get closer to Mirio, he is like a stove.”

Mirio laughed, but I froze, feeling my words tangle in my throat, as if they wanted to stab Nejire with the irony of a swordfish. Tension and laughter were intertwined in a precarious balance as the night wore on.

Outside, the clock marked a time when the streets were deserted, and silence spread like a blanket over the city. The metropolis, which had been so vibrant hours before, now seemed to be plunged into a deep sleep, only interrupted by the soft flickering of the lights of the buildings, reminding me that the world was going on.

With that nocturnal calm, Nejire said goodbye to us at the door of his house.

“I'll stay and clean.” she said, winking at me with that complicity that always gave me a glimpse of her secret intentions. “Don't worry about it.”

I couldn't help but hesitate. Nejire wasn't one to stay up late picking up, but she didn't miss an opportunity to leave us alone, to let my emotions run wild hopelessly.

Mirio, with his usual naturalness, adjusted his jacket and looked at me with that confidence that seemed to dissolve any complication.

“I'll walk you home.” he said. “Plus, it makes for a perfect night for a walk.”

I could have told him that it was fine, that I didn't mind walking alone, but my shyness prevented me from doing so. So, without another word, we began to walk together under the dim light of the street-lamps, and the echo of our footsteps mingled with the soft murmur of the breeze that stirred the leaves of the trees. The air, fresh and comforting, combined with the clear sky, where the stars shone like small beacons in the immensity of the night.

We don't talk much; sometimes, simple company was enough. As we passed through a park, Mirio stopped abruptly and, with a look that invited one to share the amazement, exclaimed:

“Look!” he pointed to the sky. “It's a meteor shower!”

Before I could articulate an answer, Mirio dropped down on the pitch, as naturally as he did everything, as if lying on the grass in the middle of the night was the most logical choice in the world.

I watched him for a long moment. His expression was so relaxed, his eyes fixed on the sky, as if he firmly believed that he could reach the stars just by dreaming. I took a deep breath and, after a moment's hesitation, lay down beside him. The cold grass contrasted with the human warmth emanating from him, and in that instant, the entire universe seemed to conspire for time to stop.

“It's as if heaven is celebrating something.” Mirio said, in a soft, melancholy voice that seemed to have the power to soothe my concerns.

“Yes...” I murmured, feeling how the atmosphere tempted me to confess, to let the tension dissipate in a kiss that erased my fears. “The stars are celebrating your birthday.”

Mirio laughed, and then he pointed to an especially bright star.

“Do you know what I asked for when I saw the first star?” he asked, without taking his eyes off the sky, with an innocence that made me shudder.

I turned a little, just enough to see his profile in the dim light. The dim light highlighted his silhouette and his smile, which was the only beacon in the midst of my doubts.

“What?” I asked, feeling the weight of every second in the air.

“May this year be as special as today.” he replied, in a voice full of meaning and with a smile that seemed to seal a silent pact with the universe.

I remained silent, understanding that for him, that moment was something unique, special.

I focused on the stars, the sound of our breaths, and the warmth that emanated from his proximity. Everything seemed to invite me to give in to temptation, to turn my face towards him and to let our barriers vanish in a kiss that said everything without the need for words. In the blink of an eye, though, I remembered the freshman, her trembling voice and sad look at being rejected, and how Mirio, with his endless kindness, had made it clear to her that he didn't feel the same way.

That image stopped me in my tracks. I pursed my lips together and, with an almost imperceptible whisper, said:

“I... I just asked for courage.”

Not to declare myself. Not to kiss him. I only asked for courage to endure this situation, to resist this whirlwind of emotions a little longer.

Mirio laughed softly, as if he understood something I refused to admit.

“You have the courage, Tamaki.” he said, pointing his finger to a shooting star streaking across the sky. “You just have to use it.”

I stared at him, my chest tightened and my heart pounding a thousand miles an hour, wanting to believe his words. But courage seemed insufficient if fear persisted; I could bear that Mirio never saw me in the same way, I could keep these feelings deep inside me, but what I couldn't bear was the thought of losing him.

Afterwards, we resume the journey in silence through the empty streets. The sound of our footsteps mingled with the night breeze and the soft flickering of the lights. Every moment by his side was a bittersweet reminder of what I wanted and what I feared. As we approached the bus stop, the silence between us was as comfortable as it was full of unspoken promises. Every accidental touch, every glance, ignited in me a timid hope and, at the same time, an indescribable anguish.

In the end, the night faded and, although the city was still sleeping, inside me the beat of my heart continued to mark the rhythm of a deep desire.  And in that instant, surrounded by the calm of the night and the lights that seemed to whisper secrets, I understood that courage was not the absence of fear, but the ability to move forward, even when the heart screamed inside that it belonged to someone who seemed unreachable.

Chapter Text

After what seemed like three endless weeks of preparation and nerves, the day of the cultural festival had finally arrived. For someone like me, accustomed to going unnoticed, the idea of being exposed to so many people —cooking and serving coffee in front of hundreds of eyes— felt like a nightmare come true. Deep down, though, there was a small spark of curiosity and, perhaps, a glimmer of hope. We had worked so hard to set up the stand, decorate it and prepare even the smallest detail of the menus... What if, against all odds, everything went well?

The Kofi Koala stand looked impeccable. The tables glistened in the sunlight, and the mural Nejire had painted in an explosion of colors seemed to tell stories of friendship and effort. The kitchen was organized to perfection, each utensil in its place, ready to run like a well-oiled machine. Nejire, in the heart of the stand, dressed in an apron that said "Koala Chef" and with a smile so bright that it rivaled the light itself, was in charge of cheering up the first customers. Meanwhile, Mirio roamed the space, meticulously checking each tray and glass, playing the role of the perfect host.

“Welcome to the Kofi Koala!” Nejire shouted enthusiastically, capturing the attention of those present. “We have the best coffee and sweetest desserts in the entire festival!”

I stayed a little behind, feeling the weight of responsibility and the fear of making mistakes. Every moment was transformed into a whirlwind of doubts: What would happen if no one liked what I had prepared? What if everything went wrong?

“Tamaki, are you okay?” Mirio asked, approaching with that unmistakable smile that always managed to dispel my fears, although at the same time it ignited something unspeakable inside me.

“Yes... I'm alright.” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady and avoiding his gaze, as my mind filled with questions.

“Don't worry.” he said, patting me on the shoulder. “You're amazing in the kitchen. Everything will be perfect.”

I nodded, though inside I was still full of doubts. But when the first customers approached the counter, the urge to act overcame my fears.

“Welcome to the Kofi Koala.” I announced in a somewhat shy voice. “What would you like to order?”

The first customer was a freshman girl who, shyly, looked at the menu and said:

“Hey... do you have anything with chocolate in it?”

“Yes, we have a chocolate cake in the shape of a koala.” I replied, feeling a scorching heat wash over me.

“Great!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “I want one.”

Within minutes, the booth was filled with customers, and the atmosphere was transformed into a mosaic of laughter and lively chatter. Nejire was in her element, interacting with each person, joking around, and making everyone feel like old friends. In her irreverent style, she addressed a boy who seemed lost:

“Hey, you! Don't want to try our specialty coffee? I guarantee it will make you feel like a hero!”

The boy laughed but asked for a coffee, while Nejire placed koala ears on his head and took a photo to immortalize the moment.

“Perfect!” she exclaimed, showing him the photo on her cell phone. “You are now officially a Koala Hero.”

Meanwhile, Mirio moved in the midst of the chaos, serving coffees and desserts with a constant smile.

“A latte for the lady!” he announced, placing a cup in front of a third-grader. “And a raspberry cake for the gentleman.”

But, as in any good story, not everything went perfectly. At one point, Mirio tried to juggle the trays and ended up spilling a coffee on one of the tables.

“Oops!” he said, laughing. “At least I haven't stained anyone.”

The customers laughed, and Mirio, with that unique ability to turn a mistake into a joke, offered to give the student a free coffee to make up for the disaster. The boy nodded with a smile, and Mirio turned to me with a mischievous and reassuring look.

“See, Tamaki? Everything goes well if you know how to handle it.”

I focused on the orders, and little by little, the weight of the situation began to ease. However, the day still had more surprises for us. A child approached the counter, looking at the menu with childlike curiosity.

“Hello... do you have something in the shape of a bunny?” he asked timidly.

I stood still, feeling my heart pounding. A rabbit-shaped dessert wasn't in our plans, but I couldn't refuse.

“Eh... Yes.” I said, feeling the heat rise back to my cheeks. “I can make you a rabbit cookie if you want... but it will take a while.”

The boy smiled, and I got to work, carefully molding the dough into a small work of art. After a few minutes in the oven, I handed him the carefully crafted vanilla cookie.

“Here you go.” I said, with a shy smile. “A cookie in the shape of a bunny.”

The little guy looked at the cookie in amazement and then smiled at me, declaring:

“It's incredible!” he said, taking a bite. “It tastes like happiness!”

At that moment, I focused on the orders again. Perhaps the experience would not be as horrible as I imagined.

When the sun started to set, we finally closed the Kofi Koala. My hands still smelled of coffee and burnt sugar, and my apron was stained with chocolate and flour. Nejire, for her part, seemed as fresh as at the beginning of the day, as if the energy of the festival was fueled by her inexhaustible enthusiasm.

“We can't stay here!” she exclaimed dramatically, hanging the "Closed" sign with a theatrical thump. “The night festival is the best!”

Mirio laughed, wiping his hands with a rag before tossing it nonchalantly over his shoulder.

“She is right, Tamaki.” he said, taking off his apron. “After so much work, we deserve to have a little fun.”

I didn't have time to protest. Nejire took my arm and dragged me through the crowd that began to fill the halls of the venue. The neon lights were now flickering more brightly, painting the sky purple and orange, and the air was permeated with the sweet fragrance of cotton candy mixed with the smell of burning wood from the food stalls.

At that point, the Kofi Koala was no longer just a coffee stand; it became the scene of a dream, in which every detail —no matter how ridiculous it seemed— was part of an indelible memory, full of laughter, surprises and, above all, the certainty that, despite doubts and fears, the magic of the moment had brought us a little closer together.

The first challenge was at a ball throw stand to knock down cans. Nejire stood in front of the booth with her hands on her hips, watching the rows of silver cans as if she were directing a battle strategy.

“Three attempts for 300 yen.” announced the manager, a freshman with a baseball cap turned backwards. “Are you up for it?”

With the determination that characterized her, Nejire replied without hesitation:

“Of course I do!” she said, paying with a crumpled bill that she took out of some forgotten corner of her bag.

The first two balls flew without managing to knock down more than two cans each, but the third was launched with unexpected force, impacting the center and causing the entire row to fall with a metallic thunder.

“I did it!” Nejire exclaimed, gleefully pointing to a giant stuffed animal of a monkey in a cowboy hat that hung at the back of the stall. “I want that!”

The boy in the cap sighed resignedly and handed her the prize, which Nejire embraced with the fervor of one holding a war trophy.

“Did you see that?” she commented, rubbing her nose against the stuffed animal's. “I will call him Sir Monkeylhad.”

A few meters away, a shooting stand with a cork rifle attracted Mirio's attention. The prizes, miniature figures of professional heroes, shone brightly, and at the top stood out a replica of All Might as the top prize.

“Five shots for 400 yen.” announced the girl at the stall, a student with thick glasses. “Who dares?”

“Me!” Mirio said, taking a few coins out of his pocket and paying with confidence.

With the seriousness of a sniper, he picked up the air rifle, closed one eye to aim, and fired the first shot. It hit the edge of a can, spinning it without knocking it over. The second shot barely grazed the target.

“Come on, Mirio!” Nejire exclaimed, embracing Sir Monkeylhad enthusiastically. “Aim for the center!”

The following shots turned into a series of comic disasters; even a cork bounced off a bottle and, in its trajectory, hit a passing student, causing a wave of laughter among those present.

“Well.” Mirio commented, returning the rifle with a crooked smile. “I think my Quirk doesn't include aim.”

Later, the intoxicating aroma of spicy spices and fresh seafood led us to a stall run by juniors. The sign, titled "Takoyaki from Hell: Only for the Brave!", attracted a line of customers eager to try the specialty.

“Spicy takoyaki?” Nejire asked, reading the menu with bright eyes. “It has to be our next destination!”

Without thinking, Mirio paid for three portions and handed us some chopsticks with an exaggerated bow.

“For the bravest heroes of the U.A.!” He imitated, in the voice of Present Mic, causing laughter in the group.

The first bite of takoyaki took my breath away. The pieces of octopus, wrapped in a crunchy dough, contrasted with the intensity of the hot sauce, which burned like lava in my mouth. Nejire, on the other hand, devoured it as if every bite were a forbidden sweet.

“This is incredible!” Nejire exclaimed, tears from the spiciness in her eyes. “My mouth is on fire, but I can't stop!”

Mirio coughed lightly, trying to hide his struggle with the burning, and commented with a laugh:

“Incredible? This is like fighting an S-level villain.”

His comment made me laugh, a harsh, heartfelt sound that surprised me, and in that instant, for the first time in hours, I felt a little relieved. Every game, every laugh, and every small triumph at the festival was an adventure in itself, a reminder that, despite the madness and uncertainty, there were moments of pure happiness. The combination of challenges and laughter filled the day with colors and anecdotes that, although absurd, were engraved in my memory like glimpses of a life that, somehow, became brighter with each moment shared with them.

As Mirio looked at me, his eyes seemed to hide a mystery that I couldn't decipher, and that look made the heat on my cheeks move away from the sensation of spiciness.

“What's wrong?” Mirio asked, leaning toward me with genuine curiosity.

“Nothing.” I murmured, looking away, not wanting to reveal my thoughts.

Nejire watched us with a knowing smile, perhaps knowing more than I let on. And just at that moment, a roar of fireworks lit up the sky, interrupting any further comments.

“The show has begun!” Nejire exclaimed, pointing to the sky. “Come on, we have to see it from the hill!”

With our stomachs still burning and the echo of laughter wafting through the air, we ran to the next adventure. The hill was away from the main bustle, a shelter of tall grass and long shadows where only the distant murmur of the party could be heard. Nejire led the way, singing a nonsensical song as she swayed Sir Monkeylhad as if he were a banner. Suddenly, she stopped.

“Yuyu!” she exclaimed, pointing to her friend from Class B, who was standing next to a candy stand. “I haven't seen you for ages!”

Yuyu, with a mixture of annoyance and disguised surprise, raised an eyebrow in response.

“We saw each other yesterday, Nejire.”

“It doesn't matter!” Nejire replied, running towards them as she dragged the stuffed animal to the ground. “I'm going with you!”

“Shall we invite anyone else?” One of the boys in the group asked, clearly confused.

“Of course!” said Nejire, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, I invited myself. Come on, I've got to tell you about the monkey I won!”

Mirio and I watched as Nejire blended into the group, as if she had always belonged to it. Sir Monkeylhad peeked between their heads, his cowboy-hat swinging ridiculously.

“Well,” Mirio commented, rubbing the back of his neck with a smile that combined discomfort and amusement. “I suppose we get to see the fireworks without Nejire.”

I nodded, my voice trembling as we walked to a wooden bench high up the hill, away from the hustle and bustle and the music. The first burst of green light lit up the sky just as we sat down, and at that instant, the universe seemed to stop, giving us a moment of calm in the midst of the chaos.

Fireworks painted the sky with an explosion of colors: golden spirals, blue bursts that expanded like cosmic jellyfish, and red flashes that cascaded into a symphony of light. But I could hardly concentrate on that show. Every time Mirio moved, his arm brushed against mine, and every laugh of his rose above the din of the explosions, making my heart beat wild.

“You know? I love spending time with you.” he said suddenly, without taking his eyes off the sky, as if the stars themselves were listening to his voice.

I felt my heart racing uncontrollably, fearing that he might hear it. I swallowed hard, as the words pooled in my throat, heavy as hot ashes threatening to fall.

“I... So do I.” I murmured, fiddling nervously with the edge of my sleeve, trying to hide what my eyes couldn't hide.

Mirio leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and his profile was outlined with the purple glow of a firework. His voice, softer now, crept between us:

“Seriously, Tamaki. I don't know what I would do without you. You're my best friend.”

That word resounded in me with an unbearable weight, almost like an echo that repeated itself incessantly. I felt a sharp pain in my chest, as if each beat reminded me that I adored him in silence, while he saw me as just a friend. I wanted to scream, confess, run to him, but I was paralyzed, absorbed in the vision of the colors of the sky reflected in his blue eyes, which seemed to contain an entire universe.

“Tamaki, are you there?” he asked suddenly, turning his gaze to me.

“Yes.” I lied, forcing a smile that I knew was a clumsy attempt to hide my vulnerability. “It's just that... it's cold.”

At that very moment, a particularly bright firework exploded in the sky, its pure white light filled the sky like a star exploding into a thousand fragments. Mirio leaned back on the bench, with an expression of childlike amazement, while I felt the world crumble beneath my feet.

“Mirio.” I said in a voice I barely recognized as mine.

“Yes?" he answered, turning again to me; his eyes, illuminated by the residual light of the fires, had the deep, serene hue of the sea in summer.

The words crowded into my throat, sharp as blades. I took a deep breath, feeling the cold of the air burn my lungs, and with an impulse that seemed to tear me apart from within, I managed to say:

“I don't... I don't see you as just a friend.” I said, fixing my gaze on my trembling hands, unable to hold his.

The silence that followed was abysmal. Mirio blinked, as if he needed time to translate my words, and then asked, his voice trembling with disbelief:

“What?”

“I'm in love with you.” I whispered, every syllable seeming to tear at my being. My gaze was still fixed on the floor. For years.

At that moment, Mirio sat up abruptly, moving a few inches away from the bench. His face became expressionless, a mask of wonder and confusion.

“But... what about Nejire?” he asked, frowning with a mixture of bewilderment and pain. “That night, when you said you liked someone close to you... I thought you were talking about her.”

A wave of hot, bitter rage swept over me, and my voice rose higher than I had intended.

“Nejire?” I repeated, unable to control my bitterness. “Did you really think I was referring to her?”

“Why do you think I left you alone with her so many times?” Mirio exclaimed, his tone mixed with confusion and a hint of reproach. “At home, in the restaurant... I thought you wanted me to help you conquer her.”

I couldn't contain the torrent of emotions. I got up from the bench and stood in front of him. Tears began to cloud my vision.

“Did you really never notice it?” I said, gesticulating desperately. “The hugs, the glances, your birthday present... We even slept in each other's arms, Mirio! More than once!”

At that moment, I saw Mirio turn pale; for the first time in my life, I saw how his perpetual smile faltered, and his eyes widened in amazement.

“I... I thought you were shy around girls.” he murmured, running a hand through his blond hair. “I never imagined that...”

“Because you never looked!” I interrupted, a lump in my throat that made my voice crack. “You were too busy being everyone's sun to see the shadow you left behind.”

Mirio approached me cautiously, as if afraid of frightening me.

“Tamaki, you're... You're my best friend.” he said, in a soft voice that tried, unsuccessfully, to fill the chasm of what he had just heard. “I don't want to lose this.”

“Lose this?” I laughed, a dry, broken sound, almost like a gasp. “The friendship where I adore you and you don't even see me?”

He tried to take my hand, but I pushed it away, and tears began to roll down my cheeks without my consent.

“I'm sorry.” Mirio whispered, his voice genuinely shattered. “I've never meant to hurt you.”

I couldn't stand it. I turned and ran aimlessly, dodging closed stalls and laughter from others, until my feet took me to the only place where I knew I could be alone: the empty workshop of the U.A.

I slumped against a mural of koalas Nejire had discarded, drowning my sobs in my hands. The floor was dotted with sketches of koalas, each wearing a different hat and a mocking smile, as a silent reminder of who we were: "The koalas of the U.A."

In that silence, I remembered his words: "You are my best friend." Never had that phrase sounded so like an epitaph, so definitive. Mirio did not follow me, and loneliness enveloped me.

Strangely, a drawing from the notebook I gave Mirio emerged in my mind: the one in which we were under his broken umbrella, and in the lower corner, almost imperceptible, it read: "I'd rather get wet with you than dry myself in any sun." That phrase, so simple and full of meaning, was engraved in my heart, reminding me of the fragility and strength of what I felt, and the bitter truth that, sometimes, love is not reciprocated.

Chapter Text

My room was a sanctuary of shadows, a silent refuge where the outside world seemed to have stopped. Moonlight filtered through the window, barely tracing outlines on the posters of heroes I once admired: All Might, Fat-Gum, Best Jeanist... Now, instead of inspiring me, they seemed to look at me with a mixture of disappointment and pity, as if their heroic smiles had turned into mute mockery of what I had ceased to be. I sat on the edge of the bed, trembling hands sinking into the mattress in a desperate attempt to find answers that the outside world refused to give me.

On the desk, my black notebook lay open, its pages overflowing with scribbles and phrases that I never dared to utter aloud. One of the pages, torn off violently, had irregular edges, like open wounds. It was the failed confession, those words I had written so carefully and now existed only as an echo: "I don't want to be a moth caught in your light. I want to be the hug that never lets go of you." But, deep down, I knew that this light seemed alien, unattainable for someone like me.

With hesitant steps, I got up and walked to the desk. My fingers brushed the next page, where a rough drawing of Mirio, with his charming smile and those blue eyes that seemed to contain secrets, was watching me. I slammed the notebook shut, as if that simple gesture could take away the pain, but nothing worked. Grief took hold of me, relentlessly.

I went back to the chair and stared at the ceiling. The silence was so intense that the only sound was my own breathing, too loud, too present. I asked myself, my lower lip bitten until I felt a metallic aftertaste, "How could I believe that someone like him would notice someone like me?" That question resonated in my mind with the force of an endless echo, growing in intensity and pain with each repetition.

The memories assailed me mercilessly: Mirio's laughter, that laughter that used to fill the space; his hugs under the blanket, where the world was fading away and only we existed, so close that I could feel his heart beating against mine; and his smile when he tasted my cookies, a gesture of genuine happiness that I kept as the greatest of treasures. Every memory was like a sharp knife sticking into my chest, a wound that was constantly reopening.

Unable to bear the stillness, I got up again and walked to the window, resting my forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the city slept indifferent to my pain; the streetlights flickered like distant stars, but to me, the world had been plunged into overwhelming darkness. "What did I do wrong?" I kept repeating to myself, though I knew the answer: I had let my feelings come out, and that light, bright and burning, had burned me.

Hopelessly, I dropped back into bed, hugging Mirio's training jacket, which he had forgotten at home weeks ago. The fabric retained a slight scent of him, a mixture of sweat and that peppermint-scented shampoo he always used. I buried my face in the fabric, trying to inhale some of the security he conveyed, but I soon realized that the jacket was just that: a piece of cloth, an emptiness that reminded me of what I could no longer have.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot!” I repeated to myself in a low voice, holding back tears as I felt how grief nestled inside me.

Time went on, but insomnia caught me. Every time I closed my eyes, Mirio's face unfolded before me, that expression of confusion and pain of that night when I confessed my feelings to him. "I don't want to lose this," he had said, as if our friendship was something that could be preserved despite having exposed my heart. How could I be just his friend again after having shown everything I hid?

Finally, I fell asleep at dawn, hugging Mirio's jacket, while dry tears left traces on my cheeks. I dreamed that I was lost in a dark forest, looking for a light that never appeared. When I woke up, I realized that the next day would bring no relief, but I had no choice: moving forward was my only option, even if each step hurt like a scar that reopens over and over again.

The morning came with a heavy gray sky, as if the whole world was mourning what I had lost. I woke up early, not by choice, but by the imperative need to escape from the memories that piled up in every corner of my being and did me more harm than good. I dressed mechanically, paying no attention to the clothes I was wearing, and left the house with Mirio's jacket still hanging from my arm.

The festival area were deserted, like forgotten wooden skeletons and faded posters, barely evoking the vibrancy of the previous day. The Kofi Koala stand, our little refuge of creativity and friendship, was now presented as a ghost, silent and melancholic. I walked toward it, each step echoing in the void, until I saw on the ground a koala-shaped cookie that had been trampled on. His ears were broken, and his smile had lost its charm; I picked it up delicately, feeling a strange affinity, as if that broken cookie were a reflection of my own fragility. "At least you didn't have to face rejection," I thought, even though I knew it was silly.

Soon after, Nejire arrived. Her usual energy was present on her face. When she saw me, she ran to me with a beaming smile, as if time had not passed for her.

“Tamaki!” she exclaimed, with the naturalness of one who ignores the pain of others. “And? And? What happened yesterday? It must have been romantic, right?!”

Her words bounced off me like stones against an impenetrable wall, failing to reach the core of my pain. I was silent, unable to articulate an answer. I watched as her smile faded as she noticed my swollen eyes, and for a brief moment, she seemed to understand. Without saying a word, she bent down and, with a clumsy but tender gesture, lifted the corners of my lips with her index fingers.

“Don't worry.” she said, softly. “Everything is going to be fine.”

I didn't believe her, but I didn't have the strength to argue. I just nodded, while I felt a growing knot in my chest, unable to let go of everything I kept in silence.

Soon after, I saw Mirio appear in the distance. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, as he approached with slow steps, as if he doubted whether he should be there or if he should stay in the shadows. My body froze; my hands, which used to move awkwardly when folding tablecloths, became inert. I couldn't look at him, not at that moment. After what happened, his mere presence was overwhelming to me, and every time I tried to catch his gaze, I felt exposed.

Mirio tried to get closer, but stopped when he noticed the palpable tension in the air. He bent down to pick up some trash scraps, and I could see how he inadvertently adjusted the leather bracelet on his wrist, a gesture I knew well; it was his way of hiding his discomfort when something disturbed him.

For a long time, the three of us worked in silence, picking up what was left of the Kofi Koala. Not even Nejire dared to break the silence with her usual jokes, and the atmosphere became dense, saturated with unspoken words and repressed emotions. Every time Mirio approached, I felt his gaze fixed on the back of my neck, but I, for fear that he would discover my feelings, never returned it. Before I used to look for his eyes in every room, now, I fervently wished for them to fade.

At one point, a cup fell to the ground and shattered into pieces. I bent down to pick up each fragment, and as I did so, each fragment reminded me of how unbreakable our friendship believed, a broken illusion that now manifested itself in the fragile fragments that lay at my feet. Mirio came over to help me, but my instinct prompted me to push him away, preventing his hands from touching those remains that symbolized what was once our refuge.

“I'll take care of it.” I said, in a voice that sounded harder and higher than my heart desired, trying to assert my independence and hide my despair.

He stood still, staring at me with an indecipherable expression, and then nodded, slowly walking away, leaving me with only the broken pieces of what we had built together.

Each fragment of that cup seemed to encapsulate the fragility of my existence, an existence marked by memories, silences, and a pain that, though invisible to the world, was unbearable to me.

Before heading to class, I passed through the changing rooms with Mirio's jacket hidden in my backpack, a weight that was no longer physical but symbolic. I opened his locker carefully and hung up the garment gently, almost afraid of damaging it. My fingers paused for a moment on the rough fabric, as if to absorb every trace of it before I said goodbye to him.

The classroom was half full when I arrived, and as I walked through the door, I felt as if the murmurs had stopped in my honor. The eyes of my companions were fixed on me, and it was not difficult for me to guess what they thought: The Big Three had always been inseparable, and now I was alone. I walked to the back row, away from the seat I used to share with Mirio; I couldn't sit there, not after what had happened.

Soon after, Mirio appeared accompanied by Nejire. I saw him as he sat in his usual place, right in front of the classroom. Every now and then, I felt his head turn, as if hoping to find some indication that something had changed, but I was still there, in the back row, trying to disappear into the shadows.

Aizawa began the class by explaining rescue tactics in his monotone tone, but I couldn't concentrate. The words mixed in my mind, creating a white noise that I couldn't decipher. In my notebook, I scribbled nonsensical lines; each stroke was a silent scream, a failed attempt to express what he could not say out loud.

In an instant, our eyes met. I felt my heart skip a beat and I quickly looked away. I couldn't afford to look at him. "I don't want to lose this," he had sworn, but at that moment, he had lost everything.

The class ended and, while the classmates went out in groups laughing and chatting, I was left pretending that I needed to pick up my things. Mirio got up, but did not approach; he stood by his table, watching me with an enigmatic expression, and then, with a sigh, walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

When lunch arrived, the dining room was bustling with life. Students crowded at tables, laughing and sharing their lunches, but to me it was all just background noise, an echo of what I no longer had. For the first time, I decided not to sit at The Big Three table; I opted for a far corner, by the window, where silence could embrace me without judging me.

The tray in front of me was intact: the cold rice and untouched egg seemed to mock my lack of appetite. I sipped water trying to swallow the lump in my throat, but the knot kept tightening, reminding me of my loneliness.

Soon after, Mirio and Nejire joined the usual table. I noticed how Mirio stopped when he saw my empty seat, his gaze looking for me in the hustle and bustle, but I refused to connect my eyes with his. Nejire tried to liven up the atmosphere with words I could barely hear, and though Mirio nodded, his smile was empty, forced, without the authenticity of yesteryear.

The murmurs of the students seemed to sink into me; a freshman group whispered when they saw me alone, and although I couldn't make out their words, I knew they were talking about me, about us.

After lunch, I headed to the training ground. I didn't feel like training, but I couldn't be surrounded by painful memories either. I sat on a bench, watching Mirio from a distance. He was hitting a sandbag with almost desperate force, each blow seeming to release a pent-up emotion. His sweat was falling, not only from the physical exertion, but from a frustration that was noticeable on his tense and concentrated face.

Nejire came over and sat down next to me in silence. Finally, in a barely audible voice, she asked me:

“Are you okay?”

I couldn't be, but I didn't want to worry her. I nodded, even though I knew her eyes would understand me.

“You don't have to pretend to me.” she said, squeezing my hand. “I know it must not have been easy.”

I looked at Mirio, who was still training, and felt that there was nothing that could give us back what we once were. With a broken sigh, I murmured:

“I don't know what to do.”

Tears threatened to well, and Nejire squeezed my hand with a tenderness that tried, unsuccessfully, to comfort my broken heart.

“You don't have to do anything.” she whispered. “Sometimes, being a hero means learning to bleed in silence. But I'm here for you. Always.”

That afternoon, the sound of footsteps in the hallway, the echo of silence, and the broken pieces of cups became mute witnesses of a pain that, though invisible to the world, was unbearable to me. Each fragment, each elusive glance, was a reminder of what I had lost and what we could never be again.

With each moment, my soul was torn apart a little more, and in that suffering, I learned that sometimes courage lies in accepting solitude, in facing the pain of what has been lost, and in trying, even if it costs, to rebuild the broken pieces of a heart that still loves.

Chapter Text

It's been several weeks since that night on the hill, since those forbidden words escaped my lips and transformed everything around me. Now, the silence between Mirio and me is an eloquent abyss, an absence that screams louder than any conversation. We avoid each other in class, in the dining room, in training... At first, I was the one pulling away, unable to look him in the eye without feeling the ground open and swallow me. But over time, he also began to pull away, as if sensing that his presence was unbearable to me, that every time he was around, I would shrink, wanting to fade into nothingness.

In class, I isolate myself in the back row, moving away from the seat we used to share. Sometimes I notice how, distracted, he turns his head towards me, as if hoping to see a change, a spark of what was, but everything remains the same. I remain there, trying to dissolve my existence, while Mirio stands in front, with his unalterable smile, although today that smile seems dull, as if a part of him had been lost and I was the cause, or perhaps the effect, of that blackout.

The dining room is even more painful. Before, the Big Three used to laugh and joke together; now, I take refuge in a remote corner, next to the window, where I can be left alone with my thoughts and my solitude. As Mirio and Nejire sit at our usual table, I sometimes see Mirio pausing for a moment when he notices my absence, his gaze seeking me out in the midst of the bustle, as if he wants to lend me a hand. But I cannot answer him; my heart closes in a silence that hurts.

Nejire, always trying to maintain balance, alternates her company between us, trying to unite us with words and gestures. She sits next to me sometimes, talking about trivialities, avoiding what really hurts us. At others, she laughs with Mirio, trying to cheer him up with her usual energy, although today his laughter sounds more contained, as if he knows that any false move could break the fragile wall of silence and pain that separates us.

In training, the separation becomes even more palpable. Before, we were a team, synchronized as if we were one. Now, everyone moves on their own, avoiding any contact that is not strictly necessary. Sometimes, I feel Mirio's gaze fixed on me from a distance, as if wanting to say something, but without finding the courage to express it. I concentrate on my exercises, trying to bury in each movement the pain of what we lost, of what will never be again.

Nejire tries to mediate, of course. She approaches with a mischievous smile, as if she has a secret plan to repair the irreparable, but there is nothing to fix. The words I spoke that fateful night have already been etched in the memory of both of us, and the pain they caused cannot be erased by conversation. Still, I appreciate her efforts; she is the only one who seems to understand that, although we cannot go back to the past, we cannot live separated by an insurmountable wall of silence and melancholy.

For now, silence is the only thing we have left. And although it hurts, I prefer this silence to sharp words that, as I learned that night, can hurt more than any knife. I no longer have the strength to continue bleeding in every word; silence, as poignant as it may be, is the echo of what we can no longer recover.

The training room was filled with murmurs as soon as Aizawa entered, with his usual grim expression, as if he already knew exactly what he had planned for us. His gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on each of us, and I shrank back in my seat, fervently wishing he wouldn't rest too much on me. I knew what was coming: an exercise in pairs. And inside me, the anxiety multiplied, because I feared being paired with him.

“We'll work as a team today.” Aizawa announced, his voice monotonous but relentless, charged with authority. “Each pair will face a series of holograms in a secluded room. The goal is to neutralize them as quickly as possible. There is no time for mistakes.”

My heart pounded as I heard those words. I desperately searched for someone, anyone, who could be my partner. It couldn't be Mirio. Not after everything that happened. My eyes met those of Cinthia, a girl who was a couple of rows away. In a trembling and almost imploring voice, I leaned over to her:

“Eh... Cinthia, do you want to be my partner?”

She turned, visibly surprised, but before she could answer, Nejire appeared out of nowhere, as if she had waited for this very moment to intervene.

“Oh, no, Tamaki!” she exclaimed with a mischievous smile that made me tremble. “I already have Cinthia. Right, Cinthia?”

Clearly intimidated by Nejire's overflowing energy, she nodded quickly, leaving my proposal up in the air. I froze, feeling how the ground seemed to sink under my feet. Nejire gave me a knowing look, as if she knew exactly what she was doing. And I knew it; I had always known it.

“Then, Tamaki,” Aizawa continued, not pausing in our exchange, “you will be with Mirio again.”

At that instant, on the other side of the room, Mirio raised his head upon hearing his name. Our eyes met for a brief, eternal second, and in that instant, a bitter mixture of anger and resignation took hold of me. He looked uncomfortable, but he didn't protest; he simply nodded, as if willing to cooperate in this forced exercise.

“Come on, Tamaki.” Nejire said, patting me on the back that almost made me jump. “It's just an exercise.”

With heavy steps, I got up and walked towards the training room, feeling each step as a burden that became heavier than the last. There was Mirio, adjusting his gloves with that calmness that always characterized him. I approached, avoiding his gaze, and we stood in front of the dark door of the living room.

“Ready?” Aizawa asked, his voice always bordering on exasperation.

I nodded, though I had deep doubts about my preparation. The door opened, and we entered the gloom. Suddenly, holograms appeared: glowing figures moving quickly and accurately, forcing us to act without time to think. I activated my Quirk and felt my arms transform into tentacles, ready to attack. Mirio was instantly on the move, using his Permeation to dodge the onslaught and appear behind a hologram, striking it with lethal precision.

“Tamaki, on your left!” Mirio shouted, pointing to a hologram rushing towards me.

I turned quickly, blocking the attack with my tentacles, but the impact took me back a step. I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the mission, although Mirio's closeness —so inevitable and yet so painful— made my mind wander between duty and the forbidden.

“Thank you...” I murmured, not daring to look directly at him.

“No problema.” he replied, in a voice that sounded strangely cold at the moment. “We are doing our job.”

His words hit me like a punch. We were only fulfilling a task. Nothing more, nothing less. I forced myself to focus on the holograms, moving my tentacles nimbly to pinpoint one of them against the wall, while Mirio took care of another with a well-aimed blow.

The silence between us was almost tangible, broken only by the crackling of the holograms as they were neutralized and the sound of our movements. Suddenly, in an oversight, a hologram came close enough to launch a direct attack on me. I tried to dodge it, but the impact knocked me to the ground and a sharp pain ran down my side.

“Tamaki!” Mirio shouted, appearing beside me in an instant. “Are you ok?”

I nodded, though the pain stole my words. Carefully, he helped me up, and for a brief, eternal second, our eyes met again. In those eyes, I saw concern, perhaps a trace of something deeper, something I couldn't yet comprehend. But before he could utter anything, he stepped aside, returning to the battle.

“Come on, let's get this over.” he said in a voice that sounded firmer than I expected.

I nodded, feeling anger and resignation intertwine inside me. I activated my Quirk once more, this time with renewed determination, and together we managed to neutralize the last of the holograms. When the last glimmer disappeared, the room was briefly illuminated, and the door opened, marking the end of the exercise.

We stood there, breathing heavily, not daring to look directly at each other. The silence that settled between us was heavy, saturated with unspoken words and repressed emotions. Finally, Mirio broke the silence in a soft, almost shy voice:

“Good job.”

“I say the same.” I murmured, avoiding his gaze, feeling how every word became a confession I couldn't share.

Mirio nodded, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something else, but instead, he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and his words echoing in my mind.

The room had become a sanctuary of silence and tension when, on the way to the locker room, Nejire intercepted us with excuses and a knowing smile that seemed to hide deeper intentions. As we entered that small room, the door closed behind us with a  metallic click that echoed in the silence, like the firing of a bullet sealing the inevitable. Nejire, with a final wink and that enigmatic smile, blocked the exit, making it clear that she had planned a trap for us.

I stood motionless, my back pressed against the cold wall, as the echo of her laughter faded in the hallway. The word "betrayal" beat in my mind like a war drum, and each beat reminded me of what was about to happen.

Beside me, Mirio stood silent, his shoulders tense under the U.A. sweatshirt and his fingers drumming on the touchscreen of his phone without really paying attention to it. The air was charged with electricity, as if even the dust particles in the dim light knew we didn't belong there.

That's when he broke the silence.

“Tamaki...” His voice, hoarse and harsh, as if he hadn't used it for days, slowly slipped, and for the first time in weeks, our eyes were fixed on each other. “I don't know how to start this, but... I miss you.”

In that instant, I felt my heart ignite with brutal force, hitting my ribcage. I wanted to run away, to escape this unexpected statement, but the white walls and the incessant hum of the systems in the room became an invisible cage that kept me trapped.

“You don't have to say that.” I muttered, staring into a crack in the floor, trying to drown out the trembling of my voice. “I know you don't feel the same way I do.”

Mirio took a step towards me; the sound of his boots echoed against the floor. Before I saw him, I already sensed his heat: that solar aura that always enveloped him, now seemed distorted by a shadow of guilt or uncertainty.

“It's not that.” he whispered, and his voice trembled slightly. “It's just... I don't want to lose you. You're my best friend. I don't know how to fix this, but I can't go on like this, avoiding you and feeling like I've hurt you.”

I took a deep breath, trying to quell the trembling in my hands, as I wrestled with the weight of that truth.

“It's not your fault.” I said, forcing each word through the lump in my throat. “I was the one who ruined everything by… confessing it. I shouldn't have put you in this situation.”

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if my words caused him physical pain, and as he opened them, I saw in them a vulnerability that I had never felt before.

“Don't say that.” his voice became a taut thread, about to break. “You didn't ruin anything. Simply... I don't want this to separate us. I need to be your friend again.”

The air became dense. The word "friend" repeated itself in my mind like a piercing echo, and it made me cringe.

“What if I can't just be your friend?” The words came out before I could stop them, rough and naked. “What if every time I see you, I feel like I'm breaking inside?”

Mirio stood still, as if my confession had hit him squarely. Then, with agonizing slowness, he raised his hand, as if wanting to touch me, but stopped halfway. His expression was a mosaic of pain, confusion, and something indefinable.

“I don't want you to suffer for me.” he whispered sincerely. “But I don't want to lose you either. I don't know what to do, Tamaki. Tell me what I should do.”

The silence stretched out, heavy.

Finally, I took a deep breath, letting a mixture of resignation and bitter acceptance flood my body.

“Okay.” I said, looking directly at him, even though every word burned inside me. “We'll be friends again. But... I don't know if I'll be able to forget what I feel right now. It's too early.”

Mirio inhaled sharply, as if a weight had been lifted from his chest, but his smile was sad, almost fragile.

“All right.” he whispered. “I just want to have you around. You're too important to get lost.”

We stood there, separated by less than a meter, but an abyss opened between us, full of unsaid things. Then, with unusual shyness, Mirio stretched out his hand, palm open, as if offering a silent pact.

“Shall we start over?” he asked in a voice full of trembling hope.

Before I could think, my fingers were already closing around his. His skin was warm, familiar, and for a moment, the world came to its senses, though I knew that decision would leave indelible scars on me.

“I'll try.” I nodded, aware that nothing would be the same, that this new stage would bring with it the pain of something that could never be forgotten.

The door slammed open, and Nejire appeared in the hallway, smiling with the satisfaction of one who sees a master plan fulfilled. But this time, her presence did not matter to me.

In the midst of the chaos, at least we were still us. Although "we" no longer meant the same thing as before.

That outstretched hand, that silent pact, was all I had left to try to stay close to him, clinging to a reality so bitter that it hurt.

Chapter Text

The first week of our new normal was like walking on broken glass. Mirio no longer patted me on the shoulder as naturally as before, nor smiled at me with that warmth that improved each of my days. Now, a void had settled between us, a silent abyss that neither his forced smiles nor my clumsy monosyllables could fill.

Everything crystallized during combat training. As I dodged a drone attack, I noticed Mirio subtly recoiled as he saw me approaching, as if my mere presence was unbearably searing. His fists clenched, not to strike the mock enemy, but as if he were trying to push aside something invisible, something that stood between us. In a low, broken voice, he said to me:

“Good movement.”

Those words, spoken in a whisper, hit me like a painful echo, reminding me that even though we were there fulfilling our mission, something inside was crumbling.

The U.A. classroom, which had always been a refuge, had been transformed into a prison. Within its walls, surrounded by posters and the incessant murmur of my colleagues, I used to get lost in anonymity. But now, that I had sat down next to Mirio again, I felt the weight of the past, of what we had lost.

For years, I had occupied the seat next to him, listening to his laughter and receiving his pats that made me feel alive. Today, however, his presence was a constant and painful reminder of what we were no longer and never would be.

Aizawa began that class by explaining ambush tactics, but his words blended into my mind forming an incessant noise, almost like a buzzing sound that could not dissipate. In my notebook, I scribbled nonsensical lines; an attempt to capture what I could not express in words. Suddenly, I felt Mirio's gaze on me, even though I know he wasn't looking directly at me. Before, I delighted to find his smile at the end of each class; now, his presence was cold, measured, and seemed to me more and more unreachable.

“Tamaki.” Nejire whispered from my side, leaning in with a mischievous smile. “Did you notice that Mirio is wearing the same sweatshirt as you?”

I froze. I looked down at my gray sweatshirt with the U.A. logo, and in an instant, unintentionally, I turned my head enough to see his. It was identical.

“It's... A coincidence.” I murmured, noticing the blush that spread across my face.

“Or a subliminal message.” Nejire said, winking at me knowingly. “Don't you think?”

I didn't answer. Before, his closeness was a comfort, an anchor in the midst of chaos, but now his every move was a stinging reminder of what we were no longer. How is it possible that someone so bright can become so distant? It's not that he ignores me; in fact, he treats me with a courtesy that hurts, as if I were a stranger who was forced to tolerate his presence. And yet, here I am, sitting next to him, clinging to any vestige of closeness, because I prefer that pain to facing a void without his light.

At one point, Mirio leaned to the side and whispered:

“Tamaki, can you give me a sheet?”

His voice, so faint, mixed with the sound of my pen scraping the paper. Our fingers brushed briefly, and at that contact, the air vibrated with silent electricity.

“Thank you.” he said, his voice softer than usual.

“You're welcome.” I murmured, going back to my notebook, feeling that, although the gesture was small, it carried with it a universe of what could no longer be.

Days later, in the chaos of the routine, Nejire took us to the supermarket. The fluorescent white lights made me feel like an insect on display, and as she pushed the shopping cart at full speed, I tried to stay calm. Mirio, always in his own world, sat inside the cart, with his legs dangling and a giant bag of potatoes hugging his chest.

“Faster, Nejire!” he exclaimed, swinging as if the cart were a pirate ship. “Get on the cart, Tamaki!”

“No... I'm fine walking.” I said, sinking my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt, afraid that his gaze would reveal what I could no longer keep silent.

Nejire turned the cart sharply, causing Mirio to stagger and a can of tuna to fall with a clatter.

“You pick it up, Tamaki!” Nejire ordered, pointing to the can as if it were a vital mission. “You're the only one with cat reflexes here.”

I bent down, feeling the chill of the floor, and as I lifted the can, Mirio's hand briefly brushed against mine, causing an electric shock. We both pulled away, as if the contact had been too much to bear.

“Excuse me.” he murmured, looking away.

“It's okay.” I lied, trying to hide the tide of emotions that overwhelmed me.

As we made our way to the dairy section, I watched Mirio feign interest in a package of koala-shaped cookies. His smile, though wide, seemed too forced, a performance that only added to my inner pain. Does it hurt as much as it does me? I wanted to ask him, but the words stuck in my throat.

Nejire broke the silence by throwing a carton of milk into the cart, breaking the tense atmosphere:

“Let's go to the checkout! I want to pay before Tamaki eats a broccoli and turns green!”

Mirio let out a laugh, but at that moment, there was no usual pat on my back, just a sigh that mixed with the beep of the cash register.

It's funny how pain disguises itself as routine. You learn to smile when he makes a joke, to look at the ground when his shoulder accidentally brushes yours, to swallow words you know you'll never say. But there are moments... moments when the farce cracks. Like when you realize that his laughter, once warm and enveloping, now sounds like a repetition on a broken record.

The worst thing was not the rejection. It was the after. It is to see it turned into an opaque mirror, reflecting only half of what we were. And yet, here I am, clinging to a thousand cracks, to every gesture, to every touch, because I prefer that pain to facing the total absence of his light.

“Shall we pay together?” Mirio asked, holding his wallet with fingers that trembled slightly.

“I'll pay my part.” I replied quickly, pulling out some coins that clinked like funeral bells.

Nejire watched us with her arms folded, as if she were a whimsical goddess judging the disharmony of our universe.

“Well, well.” she said, biting into a furtive grape. “This is more awkward than a kiss between cousins.”

For a second, Mirio and I accidentally looked at each other, and in that exchange of glances, something broke: a "maybe" floated in the air, an unanswered question. Then he looked away and whispered:

“Let's go.” And these words sounded like a farewell, a silent goodbye.

The following week passed in a whirlwind of training, classes and silences that were palpable as omens. Mirio and I were still dancing around us, each in separate orbits. Their smiles were shorter, more calculated, and I, trying to act normally, felt that every word I spoke to him sounded like a forced echo, a murmur through opaque glass.

It was in the midst of this tension that Yuyu appeared with an invitation. We were packing up our things after a grueling class in combat tactics when Yuyu walked over with an overly wide smile and a purple envelope in hand.

“Guys!” she exclaimed. “Party at my house this Friday! You can't miss it!”

Nejire jumped out of her seat like a spring, clutching the envelope excitedly.

“Finally something fun!” She read aloud the invitation: “Theme party: lights, music and alcohol.”

“Exactly.” Yuyu confirmed, with a mischievous smile. “There will be food, drink, and most importantly, alcohol!”

Mirio laughed, though his laughter seemed forced.

“Sounds great.” he said, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “What do you say, Tamaki?”

I shrugged, feeling the weight of the decision become unbearable.

“I don't know.” I murmured, avoiding his gaze. “I'm not much of a party person.”

“Nonsense!” Nejire interjected, patting me on the back harder than necessary. “We're going to have a great time! Besides, what could possibly go wrong?”

A lot of things, I thought, but I fell silent, nodding as the knot in my stomach tightened even tighter.

That night, the idea of a party filled me with fear and longing; fear of seeing Mirio laughing, chatting with others, and longing to keep him close, if only in the pain of my silence. Nejire looked at me with those eyes that said "trust me," and even though I knew my heart was at war, I couldn't refuse to go with them.

Later, as we walked to the dining room, Nejire asked me with a mixture of curiosity and determination:

“What are you going to wear?”

“I don't know.” I said, fiddling with the edge of my sweatshirt. “Something normal, I suppose.”

“Normal is boring.” she said, winking at me. “You need something that catches the eye!”

Mirio laughed, but his gaze fell on me with a mute question, and I could barely murmur a "Okay" before I looked away, feeling the warmth of his approval like a fire that set my cheeks on fire.

The night before the party, I stayed up going through my closet, looking for answers among shirts and pants. In the end, I opted for a simple black shirt and navy blue jeans. I didn't want to wear anything that screamed "look at me", but when I arrived at the place, I realized that nothing mattered. Because no matter how hard I tried to hide myself, Mirio would always know how to find me.

The night had transformed into a whirlwind of chaotic lights and sounds as we arrived at the party. I arrived on my own, walking through a sea of guests that seemed to flow like runaway rivers. The atmosphere was a charming chaos: colored lampposts, strident music mixed with laughter and conversations, and in every corner flashes of improvised decorations. That's when I saw her.

Nejire was there, resplendent as ever. She wore a stunning dress that hugged her figure and an updo in her hair that seemed orchestrated to highlight her inexhaustible energy. When I saw her like this, I almost find it hard to believe that she was the same Nejire with whom I share so many mischiefs. With her sparkling gaze, she approached me and, without wasting time, invited me to tour the place.

We parted momentarily to explore the atmosphere, but fate brought us together at the makeshift bar. There, a sign that read "Serve yourselves!" hung awkwardly, giving an air of rebellion and humor to the place. Between laughter and the occasional carefree comment, we prepared some drinks. The liquid fell into uneven glasses, and while we drank it, we took refuge in a corner somewhat removed from the din of the party to chat calmly.

“This is great, isn't it?” Nejire said, a smile that seemed to light up her face, as she twirled the glass between her fingers.

I nodded, letting the drink soothe my nerves, but in an instant, my attention slipped into the crowd. There, among groups of students, I saw Mirio. He chatted animatedly with others, with a drink in his hand and wearing a colorful and fun shirt, so characteristic of his style. As I watched him, a knot tightened in my chest. I couldn't help but think about how far I was from getting him to see me as more than just a friend; His laughter, his naturalness, his way of being made me feel like a spectator in my own story.

“Tamaki, what are you thinking about?” Nejire asked, noticing my gaze fixed on the scene, with that tone that always managed to bring out what I preferred to hide.

I looked down, hesitating for a moment before blurting out in a barely audible whisper:

“It's... Mirio. It's always so... so close and, at the same time, unreachable.... I wonder if I'll ever be able to be something more for him.”

Nejire nodded with a mixture of understanding and mischief, leaning on her unwavering confidence.

“You know, it's normal to feel that way.” she said, softening my torment with sincere words. “I'm so sorry that things didn't go as you expected. If you ever need to talk, I'm here.”

Her words comforted me, like a balm in the midst of disaster. With an almost imperceptible impulse, we decided to approach Mirio. We walked together, my steps trembling and Nejire's firm, until we found ourself surrounded by friends. The conversation naturally intertwined, and before I knew it, the three of us were in the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

Mirio, always the life of the party, invited us to dance. I, nervous and reluctant, preferred to observe, letting every step and turn of his on the dance floor be engraved in my memory. However, Nejire, insistent and always pushing me out of my shell, took my arm and dragged me to move to the beat of the music.

“Come on, Tamaki!” she exclaimed with an infectious laugh. “A little dancing isn't going to kill you!”

Between laughter and the exchange of furtive glances, we let ourselves be carried away by the rhythm, while I, with my heart beating a thousand, continued to be the silent witness of Mirio's complicity with the rest, secretly longing that my feelings would one day become something more than friendship.

The music was still vibrating at the party when, after a few minutes of dancing and shared laughter, Nejire suggested that we join a small group that had formed in a more intimate corner, which I appreciated. We walked together, leaving the main bustle behind, until we reached a circle of students gathered around a makeshift table, where they were playing a card game they called "Truth or Shot." It was just the three of us, Yuyu, and three or four other companions, creating an atmosphere of complicity.

The game was simple but revealing: each card asked a question, and whoever did not dare to answer had to drink a shot. One of the students, with a mischievous smile, read a letter: "Tell us, what's the craziest thing you've ever done for a bet?" And laughing, Nejire confessed to singing at the top of his lungs in the middle of the hall of the U.A. just to earn a couple of yen. The laughter was mixed with applause and humorous comments, creating a relaxed atmosphere.

When it was Yuyu's turn, she pulled out a card with a mischievous look and, taking advantage of the complicit atmosphere, obviously manipulated the game with increasingly daring questions. In a low and mischievous voice, she turned to me and asked, without looking up from the card:

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't?”

The silence extended for an eternal second. I felt the heat flood my body, but before I could utter a word, I raised my glass and drank the shot in one gulp, letting the alcohol drown out my answer. My gaze slipped to Mirio, whose eyes seemed to hide an enigma. Around them, some students laughed nervously, while others muttered half-hearted comments, aware of the tension that crept into that brief moment.

The atmosphere became even denser when, in response to the question, another of those present dared to ask the following question. This time, the question was addressed to Mirio:

“What if a friend asked you for something you can't give them?”

For a moment, Mirio's carefree smile faded, and a shadow of hesitation crossed his face. My eyes were fixed on him, expectantly, and the atmosphere was filled with a mixture of curiosity and slight tension. It was obvious that this student was very observant and, really, I am not surprised. Before long I had gone from avoiding Mirio, sitting alone in the dining room or in the back row of class, and now I had sat next to him again... Nor did you have to be Sherlock Holmes to find out that something strange was going on between us.

Before the question could go too deep, Nejire stepped forward with a joke that broke the silence:

“Wow, Mirio! I'm sure he says it because of that time you refused to lend me your bike!”

The joke erupted in laughter among the group, easing the tension as Mirio regained his usual smile. I, still with the glass in hand, felt trapped between my own feelings and the echo of Nejire's words.

The bustle of the party became distant when I escaped to the balcony, in search of a respite in the midst of the tide of emotions. The night was silent, and the stars were timid, flickering in the immensity of the sky. There, in the solitude of the terrace, my thoughts struggled to organize themselves while the cold air tried to calm the whirlwind I felt in my chest.

Minutes later, Mirio's figure appeared staggering nearby, his gait unstable, an unmistakable sign that alcohol had softened his steps, but the spark of his essence was still noticeable. He walked over slowly, resting his hand on the railing next to me. His eyes, as intense and luminous as ever, were fixed on mine, and in the silence that enveloped us the load of unspoken words was heard.

“What do you like about me, Tamaki?” Mirio asked suddenly, his voice broken and a mixture of tenderness and confusion in his tone.

A chill ran through my nervous system. With my heart pounding and my mind in a whirlwind of thoughts, I could barely stammer out:

“I'm not going to answer that.”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, and his eyes clouded for an instant.

“It's fair...” After a brief silence he spoke again, his words echoing a mistake from the past. “I don't know why you walked away after our talk.”

The pain of that memory was mixed with confusion: had my silence been an insurmountable wall? I felt caught between the need to shout my truth and the fear of breaking our fragile friendship. Impulsively, without thinking too much, I blurted out:

“What did you want me to do? Pretend I don't care about you?”

The air seemed to stop. The silence that followed was heavy, so heavy that it seemed to envelop us in a bubble of suspended time. Mirio, with his wobbly step, leaned a little more, resting his hand close to mine. His eyes seemed to be looking for something on the horizon, or perhaps in my gaze, as if he were about to confess something that had been hidden for a long time.

“Sometimes I think that... I don't know, what would happen if...?” He whispered, letting the uncertainty inside me overflow.

My senses froze. At that precise moment, a question formed within me, more powerful than any word: Was Mirio, in the midst of that drunkenness, considering something more than a friendship? Or was it just the game of alcohol, disguising truths that he never dared to utter out loud? My mind was screaming for answers, but my body froze, unable to respond.

Before I could process what was about to happen, the hubbub broke into my reality again. Nejire and Yuyu appeared out of nowhere, their effervescent laughter cutting through the intimacy of the moment. Without another word, Nejire grabbed my arm and, between pushes and smiles, dragged Mirio and me onto the dance floor again.

The spell was suddenly broken, and I found myself again in the hubbub of the party, with the memory of that conversation suspended in the air. Still, as the three of us danced —with Nejire leading and trailing us with her inexhaustible energy— my mind was torn between confusion, fear, and hope. Perhaps, in some corner of that moment, the possibility of something more had been hinted at, of a hidden truth that had yet to be revealed.