Chapter Text
It had been five days since Bakugou had declared his hidden feelings for Midoriya in front of the whole school.
Five days of teasing congratulations and inappropriate suggestions, and five days of Shinsou's already-thin patience slowly waning under the weight of 3-A's overwhelming, overbearing excitement.
His own little stunt with the gifts and notes had mostly been forgotten and disregarded, all things considered. Especially when placed in juxtaposition with the truly shocking romantic development in Class 3-A.
Two days earlier, Midoriya had stopped him after classes to give him a thank you note for the gifts, which, naturally, was immediately misinterpreted. Bakugou had insisted they throw down; with the rapidly building, pent-up irritation filling Shinsou's insides, he'd accepted.
The resulting destruction required apology letters from both Bakugou and Shinsou for Aizawa-sensei, and a handful of after-school, cleaning-related exercises.
But it was so Midoriya – to just write a thank you note after being unwantingly pursued and ridiculed.
It wasn't that Shinsou was in love with Midoriya. Certainly not in the way Bakugou apparently was. But of his classmates, he was maybe among the least annoying of them. His kindness and inner strength made him appealing in ways Shinsou tried not to acknowledge.
There was certainly no point in doing so now, after all.
It... didn't hurt, exactly. The test was just that – a test. One that everyone failed, but could be used as a lesson learned for their future.
Inside Shinsou's room in the Class 3-A dormitory, he sat working on his class assignments and avoiding all the commotion going on downstairs. Or rather, he had been working on an assignment, but his attention was torn by the small notebooks stacked on the corner of his desk, unused and wrapped up with a red ribbon. On top of the notebooks was a small sign book, filled in with the signatures of the top ten freshman pro heroes that year.
He hadn't had the nerve to give them to the intended receiver – but he couldn't bring himself to return or resell the items, either. The completed sign book was especially a pain in the ass to put together, but he had enough people around that “owed him one” to help facilitate the process somewhat.
The original test was meant to last five days before the reveal – five days of gifts, five days of notes – but Bakugou threw that all off. A public declaration required the rebuttal of a public declaration, and so Shinsou felt it was necessary to end the charade a few days early.
There was a small part of him that still wondered “what if”...
What if Midoriya wasn't dating Bakugou?
What if Midoriya grew to feel some kind of affection for the secret admirer?
What if Shinsou modified the test in such a way that would allow a proper romance to blossom?
In the end, it didn't matter.
Midoriya was dating Bakugou. He was in love with the hot-headed bastard.
And there was nothing Shinsou could do about it.
Before Shinsou could pretend to return to his assignment, a knock sounded at his door. He stood and opened the door.
One the other side was Aoyama, holding a bouquet of pale, lavender roses that barely fit in his arms.
“Bonsoir!” Aoyama greeted brightly. “I've come bearing a gift!”
Shinsou frowned. “Why?”
“Well, I stumbled across these beautiful roses while I was out, and knew that I must give them to you!” Aoyama teased. “Their lovely lavender color reminded me of your lovely lavender eyes!”
With his own words thrown back in his face, Shinsou rolled his eyes. “Thanks, but I'll pass.”
He moved to shut the door, but Aoyama physically blocked him from doing so with his body. The bright, twinkling eyes were unnervingly close to Shinsou, and he felt himself stumbling away from the near contact automatically.
“Non, non! I insist! I truly believe that I was meant to give you these roses.”
Aoyama looked down at the bouquet, and Shinsou felt he could breath a little easier. “I know all of our classmates are happy for Midoriya-chan and Bakugou-kun – and I am as well, of course – but I do worry about you, Shinsou-kun.”
Shinsou sighed. “Look, I get that you think I'm upset or whatever, but I assure you it was nothing more than a test.”
“Hmmm...” Aoyama hummed, walking into the room uninvited.
“I spoke with Sensei. He's actually quite interested in the results.” Shinsou rubbed at an elbow. “He's also required a written apology for the way you all reacted, but that should be simple enough to handle.”
Like a blood-seeking hound, Aoyama had already spotted the notebooks and sign book on his desk. Picking the sign book up, he asked, “Was this for Midoriya-chan as well?”
Shinsou shrugged. “Was gonna keep at it for a couple more days. Had to modify the experiment to account for the... unexpected variable.”
Flipping through the book, Aoyama muttered out loud, “Slipstream, Thunderclap, Timeshift... These are all very popular, young heroes. Midoriya-chan would have been so happy to receive a gift like this.”
As Aoyama clearly wasn't going to just leave, Shinsou went ahead and shut the door to his room and dropped back down into his desk chair. “Test is over and the results are in. He's not getting it now; there's no purpose in me doing so.”
“It would make for a nice Christmas gift,” Aoyama insisted.
The memory of his recent loss still ached in his back. “Yeah, sure, if Bakugou didn't exist.”
The soft tone of Aoyama's voice abruptly turned serious. “Shinsou-kun, I know this was meant to be a test for all of us, but I think it may have been a test for you, too. It's okay to feel a little sad.”
“I already said I'm not upset,” Shinsou grumbled.
Putting the sign book back where it came from, Aoyama re-presented the bouquet of roses to Shinsou. “Well, in any case, I truly did wish to gift you these flowers. Your thoughtfulness of Midoriya-chan – even if it's fake as you claim – deserves a reward.”
Shinsou didn't take the bouquet.
“Oh, and I can promise you this is not a test, if that's what you may be worried about,” Aoyama insisted. Shrugging, he continued, “I believe Ojirou-kun saw me with the flowers, but he notices everything.”
And like his heroic namesake, the smile stretched across his face was blinding, pure and shining. Aoyama genuinely wanted to be here, wanted to give Shinsou the flowers, for whatever reason.
Unwillingly, Shinsou felt his face begin to burn with an atypical mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.
“Thanks,” Shinsou muttered, and took the roses.