Work Text:
one
“Good morning, class,” A voice echoes from the front of the room, near the mirrors. Todoroki turns to look, finding the teacher immediately – a tired-looking man in baggy clothes. He really doesn't look like he should even be awake – doesn't look like he should be teaching at all, much less a dance class. Much less ballet.
Is this really all the top school could afford? This half-shaven man who looks like he has an abusive relationship with sleep?
Most of the class must look just as unimpressed as Todoroki, as the man gives them a dull, annoyed look. “Listen. I don't know what backgrounds all of you come from. Some of you rely on raw talent, and others on being raised in classes and private schools. Either way, all of you have made it through the entrance exam and you're here, and you are all, now, starting from the beginning. Listen up, because I'm only going to go over this once. I'm sure all of you are aware that we have a very intense program here, brutal and unyielding. Some of you are coming through the program again, some of you are first-years. Either way, pay attention now, because I will not be repeating it.”
His gaze scans over the crowd of listening students, all silent and wary now. Todoroki knows that its very easy to be cut from this program, he knows that it has a very small percentage of people who actually make it through the full two years. That's part of why he had applied. If you graduate from Ue Academy of Fine Arts with the top ranking and you can write top of class at UAFA on your resume you are guaranteed any job, any dance, and role you want. Todoroki's old man had laughed when he said that he was going to make it through the program.
That's why Todoroki is going to take that top spot.
“Each quarter is ten weeks, with three weeks between each one. Every quarter there will be two rounds of cuts – every five weeks. After each evaluation, the bottom five people will be cut from the program.”
The silence that washes over them is deafening, held for a full count of eight, and Todoroki stares at the teacher, unsure he's heard right. He knew this program was hard, but that means...
“Excuse me, sir,” Someone says from the front of the room, and Todoroki turns to see the guy push his glasses up his nose. He looks and sounds rather stern – Todoroki is pretty sure he's seen this guy somewhere else, but he doesn't know where. “But it sounds like you are saying that eighty of us will be cut by the end of the two year program? That cannot be right.”
The teacher gives him a tired look, unamused. “That is what I'm saying. Right now, we have three classes – two with thirty two students and one with thirty six. That means there are one hundred students in the program. By the end, there will be less than twenty of you – as some of you will end up dropping due to stress or other reasons. We typically have a graduating class of about twelve to fifteen. If any of you are not up to this, there's the door. You can leave now, because you'll just be dragging everyone else down.”
Cool determination washes through Todoroki, only paired with a tiny bit of anxiety. He signed up for this. He literally signed up for this. He knew it was going to be hard, he knew it was going to be two years of intense work and a sore body. Still, hearing that only twenty out of one hundred students will make it through the program is a scary concept.
The teacher takes in their expressions, the way they all stare back at him. He must not find any hesitation in any of their eyes, because he nods, and turns to the board behind him. He grabs a marker and begins to scribble out names, reading from a paper. As he writes, he talks, and he doesn't raise his voice at all. Todoroki can barely hear him.
“Find your partner from the board up here. You will be given until eight fifteen – that's ten minutes – to create a thirty second dance with them. There are no requirements to this, other than it must be ballet, it must be to the music I play, and you must dance together. If you want to stand there and do synchronized pirouettes the whole time, be my guest. You will be graded on this.”
And with that, he drops the marker into the tray, clicks some music on from the computer, slumps down into a chair, and lays his head back. Within ten seconds, he's snoring.
Todoroki watches him in quiet awe for a moment – oh, what I'd give to be able to fall asleep so quickly – before he realizes that everyone has started trying to figure out who their partner is. Nobody knows each others' names, so most of them have taken to standing by the board and pointing at their own name, pairing off slowly and beginning to talk animatedly about a short routine. Todoroki hangs back, waiting until it's less crowded. If worse comes to worst, the last remaining person is his partner. He doesn't have to go up there and try to figure out who it is.
Todoroki Shouto / Midoriya Izuku
He glances around the class. It's probably about three-fourths girls. There are more guys than he was expecting, but still nothing compared to the girls. That's common, in every class Todoroki has ever been in. Dance – especially ballet – is a female-dominated field. He's pretty used to that, and he doesn't mind so much. He's never really gotten along well with other male dancers. Well, really, he hasn't gotten along well with most other dancers, besides Momo. Maybe he has an abrasive personality. Maybe he just doesn't like other people. Either way, it sucks that he's paired up with one of the only few guys in the class. Can't even do any lifts or anything. Why couldn't the teacher just make sure all the guys have a girl partner?
It only takes a moment for everyone to be paired off, and for there to be one guy standing at the board, looking nervous and confused. He's got a messy head of green hair, pushed back under a thin headband. His eyes are wide and nervous, and Todoroki has a thought, just looking at him – this program is going to eat him alive.
The guy – probably Midoriya Izuku – notices him staring, and blushes a deep red. It only takes him a moment to realize that Todoroki is also the only one standing alone, and despite the blush and the way he looks like he might be shaking a little bit, he visibly steels himself and marches up to Todoroki.
“Todoroki?”
Todoroki nods, sizing him up. He looks really well built this close up. He's wearing a tight tank top and leggings and holy shit what the hell are those thighs, is he a pro wrestler and he looks up at Todoroki with his nervousness written on his face. He gives a sheepish smile. “Huh, weird that he'd pair up two of the only guys, right?”
Todoroki nods again, allowing narrowed eyes to scan over the guy again. He's not looking to make a friend here, especially not with the competition. Everyone here is someone that Todoroki will be going head-to-head against, someone that Todoroki will have to beat to get that top spot. He already has to deal with Momo being in the same program – thank god she's in one of the other classes. It's going to be weird to be competing with her. Midoriya stares back at him, still looking rather nervous.
“Okay,” Todoroki says, rolling his neck and turning away, heading towards a more open space. The rest of the people in the class have already found their own area already, starting in on creating a routine. It only has to be thirty seconds, and the music is pretty soft and slow – it actually would be pretty weird to just do thirty seconds of pirouettes to – it's definitely an adagio. It's not anything he's heard before, which is odd, since he's been in ballet classes since he was a kid. He kind of feels like at this point, all the teachers are just playing the same fifteen songs in class. But this one is different. Well, wouldn't expect any less from the top school.
As he walks, he continues to talk. “Since we only have an adagio to work with we probably don't want to do many jumps. You're smaller than me, but you also look like maybe... you're uh... maybe stronger than I am. We will get a better grade if we have some kind of lift or support, especially without jumps. You can do that. We can start on levels, I know that he'll be happy to see the juxtaposition, and I know none of these other... what?”
Midoriya blinks a couple times, like he hadn't even realized the way he was looking at Todoroki. Todoroki had stopped and turned around, and Midoriya had just been staring at him with his eyebrows furrowed, like he was a little frustrated. Todoroki doesn't want to deal with this – he just wants to get it over with. Get to dancing alone. That's what he's good at.
“Well, I-I don't know,” Midoriya stammers. “It just seemed kind of like you were going to plan the whole thing by yourself. Aren't we partners? Shouldn't we make up the routine together? Shouldn't we just like... have fun? It's only the first day.”
Todoroki narrows his eyes. “Listen. I'm not here to make friends, I'm not here to have fun. I'm here to be the best that there is, I'm here to graduate from this program in that top spot. If I could dance alone, I would do it. But this is a partner dance, and I've had thirteen years of ballet classes. I'm assuming that I know more about this than you do. Am I wrong in my assumption?”
The guy is red, and he drops his eyes, but he doesn't look chided, like he should. He looks frustrated, confused. Todoroki bites down on the inside of his cheek as Midoriya scratches the back of his neck and says, “W-well, no, I've only been dancing for about a year b-but I had a really good teacher, and I just think... well, what's the point if you're not having fun?”
“The point is getting the top spot.” Todoroki shoots back. He doesn't want to argue this – plus it feels very strange to get in an argument with an adagio playing in the background, like some kind of movie track played during the wrong scene. He doesn't care if this guy cares, or if he thinks this is about something that it isn't. He just has to get past this dance and he doesn't have to deal with him again. “Whatever. Let's just dance, okay.”
Midoriya raises his eyes, and – Jesus, they're so green – Todoroki narrows his own at the determined look in them. The shorter dancer very suddenly seems like a different person, like being faced with someone difficult makes him calm and rational and confident rather than more nervous. “Okay. We'll just do the dance. But you should know that I'm headed for that top spot as well.”
Alright, okay, Todoroki has been challenged quite a few times in his short nineteen years of life. He grew up with an older sister, sure, but also with two older brothers, and a father that only knew how to interact with his children in battles, whether it be games when they were younger or arguments when they got older. He's been in ballet classes since he was six, where the teachers always push, always fight you to do better, to jump higher, to push yourself harder, to stay en pointe for longer. So this shouldn't be anything new to him, shouldn't make him nervous, shouldn't matter at all.
But just because it shouldn't doesn't mean that it doesn't.
Then Midoriya grins, and Todoroki isn't sure if it's a challenge or if he's truly just letting it go, and turns half away. “Alright, I liked your idea with the lift... but I was thinking...”
Todoroki bites his tongue and lets Midoriya be part of creating the routine, even if he's sure that he could have made a better routine himself. Midoriya is inexperienced, and it shows. Even so, he has an... an energy or something – he's just so excited about dancing that he makes a couple of suggestions that Todoroki has to begrudgingly admit are pretty good. And on top of those, even though his rotation isn't so great all the time, he dances with such a passion that Todoroki quite nearly has to fight to keep up with him. By the end of the ten minutes they have a well-rehearsed routine, and Todoroki is sweating.
Each pairing dances their routine, and Todoroki watches with careful eyes. He has to watch out for a few of them, but not a lot of them seem to be a threat. Midoriya sits next to him and mutters and takes notes the entire time, which is kind of distracting and almost annoying, but Todoroki can tune him out pretty easily – and at one point he overhears him muttering about the way that one of the dancers integrated a jump and Todoroki has to reevaluate the way he had watched the first time.
Then it's their turn and they get up and dance – and Midoriya holds up his end with an unerring amount of grace. It's ridiculous to think that he's only been dancing for a year, it's not fair in any sense of the word. But it's compelling, and he can tell that the other students watching think they're very good. Of course they are.
After everyone finishes, the teacher finishes taking his notes and then runs them through warmups, stretches, and a routine they'll be learning to the same adagio. Todoroki is glad to pick a spot on the floor far away from Midoriya and just dance. He's here to learn, he's here to be the best here. He's not here to have fun.
The next morning, the grades for their first dance are up on the website. They get the top score.
two
“I don't know, Iida,” Midoriya sighs, trying to gather his hair into his headband as they make their way through the crowded hall. He really needs a haircut, it wants to spill down into his face. “I think it's going to be a disaster. He hates me.”
Iida purses his lips, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I'm not sure if you can use the word 'hate.' You haven't interacted with him more than just the first day, correct?”
“Well, yeah, but-”
“Well, it's been five weeks since then. He may have changed his mind, or warmed up.”
“But you should see the way he glares at me. And his cold shoulder. I swear sometimes he's made of ice. I don't know if he's going to warm up.”
“Who are you talking about?”
Midoriya jumps out of his skin, but luckily it isn't Todoroki. He turns to see a girl approaching, with a big puffy ponytail sticking out of the back of her head. Iida smiles, which is something that Midoriya has not seen very much over the first half of the quarter, but he should consider doing it more. Midoriya has seen the girl around the halls, but she's not in their class. Maybe she's in one of the other three classes. “Yaoyorozu,” Iida greets, bowing slightly. She smiles back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and Midoriya recognizes her name from the rankings on the website. She's got really high rankings as it stands, up in the top ten. “We were just discussing Midoriya's partner for the mid-quarter cuts.”
Yaoyorozu raises her eyebrows, turning to Midoriya. “Oh, you're Midoriya Izuku? You're paired with Shouto.”
The way she says it makes Midoriya's eyebrows raise, lean forward a little bit. “You know him?”
She blows out a breath of air. “Yeah, we've been in classes together for years now. He's... don't get me wrong, I love him, but he's pretty difficult sometimes.”
Midoriya wonders if he's imagining the way Iida deflates slightly. He nonchalantly shuffles to the side, trying to give space for her to step between them, so they can walk next to each other. “Oh, are you two... together?”
The question seems to hit Yaoyorozu like a slap, and she barks out a laugh, covering her mouth immediately. “Oh! Oh, no, not at all. We've just been dancing together for a long time. We get that a lot,” She says, rolling her eyes. “But no. Never liked him like that, and plus, he's gay. I know he's difficult, but give him some time. Sometimes it takes a while to get through his thick skull.”
Midoriya hums a response – this doesn't really make him feel much better. The pairings for the dance they have to do for the mid-quarter cut assessment went up on the website that morning – and ever since then Midoriya has had a rather sick feeling in his stomach. They only have a week until the assessment, and in that time he has to somehow figure out how to make a three-minute-thirty-second long routine with this guy who likes to glare at him. How is he supposed to dance with somebody who doesn't like him? And for the first round of cuts, no less.
“At least you already have good standing,” Iida says, trying to look on the bright side. “Even if he doesn't do so well, or you guys can't figure out how to work together, it'll be very difficult for the two of you to get cut, only knocked down to the lower rankings.”
This helps, but only a little bit. Midoriya frowns. “Well, if there's anything I'm good at, it's making friends. I'm just afraid I've finally met my match. Besides, I only have a week.”
“Midoriya,” Iida says in a chiding tone, “Once I watched you become friends with a guy in line for Subway. And by the time you bought your sandwich you had his number and plans to hang out on Saturday.”
A flush working across his cheeks, Midoriya looks away, stammering, “That w-was an outlier, we both really liked The Umbrella Academy! Usually it takes time.”
Iida raises his eyebrows as though he doesn't believe a single word coming out of Midoriya's mouth, but Midoriya decides to ignore him. Besides, they're at their classroom door already. Iida pauses to say goodbye to Yaoyorozu but Midoriya just gives her a big smile and heads onward through the doors. He wants to stretch out and try to figure out what he's going to say to Todoroki, and he wants to give Iida and Yaoyorozu some time alone anyways.
He pulls up short just through the doors, clutching the strap of his bag. There aren't any other students in the classroom yet – save one. Todoroki stands in front of Aizawa's desk, looking stiff and uncomfortable. It appears that Midoriya has come in in the middle of their conversation. He grabs the door quickly to keep it from slamming, to keep it from announcing his presence. He's totally about to slip back out, to stand in the hall until they're done with their private conversation, but he catches a couple words and pauses.
“-I get what you're saying but isn't it individual grading?” Todoroki grits, even as Aizawa's face looks as unimpressed as ever. “Why do I have to dance with him?”
This drives a spike into Midoriya, and he purses his lips, frozen to the spot. He didn't even do anything to the guy. Why does he hate me so much?
Aizawa doesn't even flinch under Todoroki's frustrated look. “Ballet is not always a solo art. You must be able to work with others in rehearsals, in space, and in performances. This is graded individually, yes, but there is a section that is graded on how you do as a pair.”
Todoroki holds the teacher's gaze for a moment, but after a moment he huffs out a small breath and says, “Fine,” and turns away. This takes him around and he immediately makes eye contact with Midoriya, and the taller dancer pulls up short, his feet stalling where they are. They hold each other's gazes for a long moment, and Todoroki's expression twists. Maybe he's uncomfortable to be caught complaining to the teacher, or maybe he's just angry to have to dance with Midoriya, but Midoriya can't really read his face.
Well, it's just another challenge, isn't it? Midoriya has faced many challenges in his years, but getting this guy to dance with him, maybe becoming his friend, it's just another one. He knows that they're both aiming for the top spot, but dancing has always been about having fun and doing what he loves, so if he's just frustrated with this guy the whole time, he's not going to enjoy himself. He doesn't do it on purpose, but his face is probably turning into the determined Midoriya thing that his friends like to laugh at him about; he knows because Todoroki's face twists a little more and he turns away.
Midoriya carefully finds a place at the side of the room for his bag as Todoroki settles in a chair and starts pulling his hair back – Midoriya had never seen it down before now, and oh lord it's so long and it looks silky smooth. Midoriya decides that if they're going to be friends, there's no use censoring his thoughts if they're not going to be harmful.
“How do you get your hair so straight?”
Todoroki blinks at him, and furrows his eyebrows. There are other students coming in now, stretching and chatting quietly with each other. Todoroki pulls his hair back and begins to spin it into his normal tight bun. “I wash it.”
Midoriya snorts out a laugh. Todoroki just stares at him, and Midoriya realizes that it wasn't a joke. “Oh, it's naturally like that?”
“I guess so.”
Midoriya starts stretching out, and he purses his lips. Todoroki must have had hair that long for a while – his fingers move expertly to catch all of the pieces into the bun. “So, I know we got off to a weird start, but this assessment is really important, for both of us I think, so I just want to say uh... sorry, I guess. And we've gotta dance together, whether we like it or not.”
There's a long pause, and Todoroki watches him as he continues to work with his hair. After an uncomfortable amount of time, he just says, “Yeah, we've gotta.”
He doesn't sound too happy about it, but he sort of looks... just, well, vaguely uncomfortable, and Midoriya is reminded of Yaoyorozu saying just gotta get it through his thick skull and so Midoriya smiles. “Well, I think it's going to be fun, since we can pick our own music and routine, so long as we hit all of the points that we have to and stick to the unit.”
Todoroki blinks again, and Midoriya starts to wonder if he's just awkward. “Yeah.”
“Well, we have all class to work on it, so we might as well get started!”
“...Yeah.”
xxx
It's rather slow going, and Todoroki is blunt and rude a lot of the time, but he doesn't storm out or tell Midoriya to go away, so Midoriya keeps working at it.
“We have an objectively good aesthetic together,” Todoroki points out at one point as they're taking a water break. “A good height difference. Usually when two men dance together it's kind of awkward, due to them being the same size and height.”
Midoriya nods, blowing air up to disturb the strands of hair that have come free from his headband, floating down into his eyes. “Though usually, I think it's the taller dancer doing the lifting,” He says on a chuckle. It's supposed to be a joke, but Todoroki just nods, taking it as a statement.
“Yes, I am aware. Since we're doing this for more than just Aizawa, the other teachers won't know that you are the stronger out of the two of us. It may be refreshing for them, give us a bit of a... a difference from the others when we dance, while still doing everything to a T, exactly the same as most of the others will be doing.”
Midoriya lays back onto the floor. He's sweaty and tired – they've been working for two hours already. It's a three-hour class, (except Fridays, when it's four hours with a half hour break in the middle) so they still have a full hour left, and Midoriya doesn't really mind. He really likes dancing, and Todoroki is a good partner. He's a little abrasive and gets frustrated, but he's an excellent dancer and he really knows what he's doing. Midoriya relies a little more on instinct, since he has so much less experience than his partner, but he can keep up with Todoroki and he's a really fast learner.
They're not even close to done as class nears its end – three and a half minutes is ages for a choreographed routine – and Midoriya gives his partner a sheepish smile. “Want to meet in one of the studios this week to finish up and rehearse?”
Todoroki nods tightly, reaching up and taking his hair down. It tumbles out around his shoulders like he's in a shampoo commercial. Maybe he's born with it. They've been told that they'll have thirty minutes in every class to work on their assessment piece, but that's nowhere near enough. “I have studio C2 booked every afternoon at five.”
Raising his eyebrows, Midoriya begins a cool-down. They have just about five minutes left before the class ends. Wordlessly, Todoroki joins him on the cool-down. “You booked it because you knew we'd have to rehearse this week?”
“No,” Todoroki says, “I've had it booked every day since the beginning of the quarter.”
Midoriya nearly falls over. “You have it booked for the whole quarter?”
Shrugging one shoulder, Todoroki just says, “They wouldn't let me book it any further than that.”
“That's not – I mean you just – of course they didn't let you book it any further than that. How'd you even get lucky enough to get the same room all semester?”
“I just went to book it on the first day. Rehearsal is important. Are you not rehearsing?” Todoroki asks, turning two-tone eyes on Midoriya.
“Well, yeah I am but you know, in my dorm. Plus the rooms aren't open all the time and I always have classes until 4:15.”
“Every day? How did you manage that? With classes scheduled every other day?”
“Yeah,” Midoriya scratches the back of his head, and then stretches his arms above his head. Todoroki copies the stretch. “I booked them back and forth, on top of this class I have three Monday/Wednesday and three others Tuesday/Thursday. I'm taking seven classes this semester.”
“How did the school even let you do that? I thought you couldn't take more than five.”
“I got special permission from the principal. I want to be able to focus only on this class at the end of the two years. So I want to get the other classes done now.”
“Is that why your standing is so good? You have more to be graded on.”
Midoriya nods, bending over to touch the floor. Shouto does the same. “It's a double-edged sword, though, it's much easier to fall behind with such a big workload. And plus when everyone else takes the classes they'll catch back up to me. I thought it was smarter than it actually is, I think, by the end of the semester I'm going to be exhausted.”
“If you don't get cut first.”
“I won't get cut,” Midoriya replies with a wide smile. “That's a promise. I'll be here all the way to give you a run for your money.”
Todoroki narrows his eyes, but there's the hint of a smile on his face.
xxx
Midoriya meets Todoroki in his rehearsal room at five everyday, despite how tired he is by that time. He doesn't need to sleep very much, he can get by on like six hours of sleep, but he's definitely a morning person, not a night person. As soon as the sun starts to dip towards the horizon, Midoriya starts to feel his limbs drag. That doesn't stop him, of course, he's often up until one in the morning. He just feels tired.
They work on their routine, and Midoriya decides that he likes dancing with Todoroki. Something about the way he moves, his near-perfect technique, the way he holds himself with so much grace... They just fit together somehow. Midoriya is energetic, fit for an allegro, bouncy and fast with quick and concise movements. Todoroki is built more for an adagio, slow, steady, sure, with perfect posture, extension and rotation. Still, he does excellent in the petit allegro, his moves practiced and perfectly timed – and he needs some practice, sure, it takes him a little bit longer to get it than it does for Midoriya, but he's more thorough about it.
He learns from Todoroki, and he's pretty sure that Todoroki is learning from him as well. The guy doesn't talk too much about stuff besides dance, but every once in a while Midoriya can work a short conversation out of him during a water break or as they're packing up, kicked out by the next student who has the space booked.
So by the time Friday rolls around and Midoriya finds himself standing next to Todoroki in front of the panel, Aizawa front and center, he's barely even nervous. They have a good dance, they've touched everything that they're supposed to have touched, and it's seamlessly worked in and practiced to a T. He gives Todoroki a grin – the guy doesn't smile back, but he doesn't look frustrated either, so like, Midoriya is gonna take that as a win – and they turn to introduce themselves.
The music starts and they come to life, spinning and dancing and jumping. Midoriya feels the pulse of the music, he feels the pulse of Todoroki, he feels like they're connected on a level past physical. There's something about dancing with someone, something about sharing this art with someone that is just... it's something Midoriya never knows how to describe. It's almost spiritual. Izuku feels grounded, he feels strong and steady and sure as he lifts Todoroki into the air, removing gravity for a second longer than usual to allow him the jump required, the split. He feels sure, he feels right as they spin past each other and land perfectly, as though they've been dancing together for years.
And then it's over, Todoroki is giving him a nod and just the touch of a smile, the panel is dismissing them, and they're heading out into the hall. Iida is waiting there with questions about how it went, and Todoroki disappears to the crowd. Midoriya watches him go, wondering if that's the extent of it. They made it through, they can tolerate each other, but that's the end of it.
He doesn't really want it to be, but he doesn't know how to call for him, how to ask him if they can just not stop talking. It seems like a weird question. So he holds back, and lets Todoroki go.
Just like on the first day, they get the top ranking.
three
“Good morning class,” Aizawa says from the front of the room. Somebody has brought him coffee today – he clutches the steaming cup to his chest like it's the reason he's alive – and Todoroki is a little frustrated that he didn't think of that first. He knows that Aizawa isn't going to grade them differently just because he likes them, but it can't hurt to be on his good side. The teacher opens his arm to the room, where there are fifteen freestanding ballet bars set up in three rows. “Congrats on making it through the first quarter. I hope you all had a good three weeks off, and if you didn't, I don't care. This quarter is bars. Two to a bar – I will be writing down which bar you're on and you will stay there for the rest of the quarter; it makes grading easier. If your bar partner gets cut halfway through the unit you will have the bar all to yourself until the end of the quarter. I don't want to hear you coming to me halfway through the quarter asking to change. You're adults. Pick a bar and stick with it.”
The other students start chatting with each other, trying to find a bar partner that they like, and Todoroki just settles himself at one of the bars in the middle. The program is already down ten people – five for each of the cuts that have happened, and the classes have been shuffled slightly so there's thirty students in each class, so they fit perfectly on fifteen bars. Todoroki stands solidly in the second ranking, just below Midoriya. He tries to tell himself that it's because Midoriya has been taking more classes, he has more to be graded on, but it also makes him feel like he's falling behind. He's going to catch back up this quarter.
“Todoroki?”
He blinks, turning. Midoriya stands at the end of his bar, wringing his hands and looking a little nervous. Todoroki raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Could I, uh... would you mind if I was your bar partner? If you don't want me to that's totally fine and I don't mind at all I could go be partners with Iida or somebody else I just uh I really thought we um w-we danced well together for the assessment and plus you got a higher grade than me on the assessment by one point and I know that's not very much but I just keep thinking that it means you did better and I know you have more experience than I do and I think I could learn from you.”
Todoroki kind of feels like he should applaud or something, after his initial question Midoriya said all of this in one breath, like he's got lungs of life, like maybe he's somehow figured out how to breathe in while still sounding like he's talking normally. He's kind of taken aback that Midoriya even wants to be his bar partner, after all, they're aiming for the same spot, they're both trying to beat one another, both trying to win the race, but he finds that he doesn't really mind. Midoriya is a good dancer, even if he's reckless and headstrong sometimes, they dance well together. The assessment had proved that.
So instead of responding, Todoroki just scoots back to the other side of the bar, silently offering one half of the bar to the shorter dancer. Midoriya grins so wide Todoroki wonders if his face is going to split open, and steps up to the bar, putting a hand on it and starting to stretch.
They stretch in silence, but it's comfortable. Todoroki doesn't really like talking to people, but he's found that it's not so bad with Midoriya. Midoriya is comfortable in silence, but he's also very good at filling it when he wants to. When they were practicing for the assessment once or twice Todoroki realized that Midoriya had been talking non-stop for like, at least ten minutes. And Todoroki hadn't minded. It gave him something to think about, it was interesting. For some reason, Todoroki really doesn't mind as long as it's Midoriya.
Aizawa begins to teach, and Todoroki settles in and begins to dance, next to – with – his bar partner.
xxx
Todoroki isn't exactly sure how, but sometime in their second week of the bar unit, they end up at lunch together.
Maybe it's just because they were caught up in a conversation and it continued, neither of them realizing they were headed to the same place, but it felt natural to wait in line together in the cafe, to pay and then sit down at one of the tables outside in the plaza and continue to talk. About nothing and everything – other classes that they're taking and how their dorms are and how they feel about Aizawa. Somehow this becomes the way that it goes, at eleven when the class ends they pack up their bags and lace up real shoes and head down the hall together, down the stairs and around the corner, into the cafeteria. Maybe it's just because they're coming from the same bar and they're headed to the same place, but whatever the reason, it just works.
Sometimes Iida joins them, and once or twice Momo meets them there, but it never feels weird. Todoroki hasn't really had friends before – sure, he's been dancing with Momo for years but that feels different, like they're childhood friends and they don't opt to hang out outside of school or classes – and it just feels... good. Sitting and eating his soba and listening to Midoriya talk animatedly to Iida about their rankings or about something he read online about the record for most consecutive fouettes, a record that he vows to break one day when he's a distinguished dancer and people know his name. It's easy to just chuckle and challenge, “I'll break it before you,” and watch Midoriya flush and curl up his fists, rising to the challenge and promising to be the first one to break it.
They're just dancing on the same bar, it shouldn't really feel like they're dancing together, but it does. Somehow just doing the same movements, just moving slow and controlled and synchronized with Midoriya, it kind of feels like every day they're dancing together, like they did for the assessment, like they did the first day of class. Like they're a good match, they know how to read and follow each other's movements.
And it's... it's good.
four
Midoriya is practically falling asleep in his rice at lunch by the end of the third quarter. Their class size feels like it's dwindling – it is – but after this quarter ends they're going to make them into two classes, and the number of students will go back up. He has to keep reminding himself that his hectic schedule now is going to mean he's going to have it easier next year, that he's going to have only the main dance class to worry about and that's it. Then he can rehearse and get stronger and get better at such a faster rate than he can when he's taking other classes. He knows how his mind works, and while he's excellent at multi-tasking, when he can focus on one thing, he can skyrocket in terms of improvement.
But he is very tired right now.
“...doriya? Midoriya.”
Midoriya blinks, looking up to find Todoroki staring at him. “You okay?”
He nods, blinking hard again. “Sorry.” He mumbles, fighting a yawn. “Just a little tired.”
Todoroki nods, but continues to stare at him, like he's waiting for another response. Midoriya raises his eyebrows. Had he missed the question? “Uh, sorry, did you say something?”
The taller dancer huffs a laugh, and leans back in his chair. They've finished eating by now, but Midoriya doesn't have his history of dance class until noon, so usually he hangs out until he has to go to class. “I asked if you wanted to be my partner for the end-of-unit assessment.”
Midoriya nearly chokes on the breath that he had been taking in. Ever since this quarter had started, Momo has been in their class, so (even though it has been a little painful, just a little, totally not very much at all and for no reason okay) Midoriya has just assumed that Todoroki is going to dance with her from now on. After all, they have been dancing together since they were kids.
“Me?” He manages, and Todoroki laughs again. It's a nice sight, Todoroki laughing. He doesn't do it very often, and Midoriya kind of feels like it's a special treat when he does.
“Yeah, you. You're... my friend. And I like dancing with you. We're good at dancing together,” Todoroki says, playing with the chopsticks in his empty bowl. He doesn't look up at Midoriya, and Midoriya gets the inkling of an idea that he might be embarrassed.
Wondering why he's blushing, Midoriya grins. “Y-yeah! I'd like that!”
Todoroki smiles softly, and nods. Midoriya's grin just gets wider. It feels like his face is going to split open. The end-of-unit test is still two weeks away, but he knows they're going to come up with an amazing routine by that time. And he can't wait.
xxx
“I don't mean fouettes,” Midoriya insists, pumping his fists up and down, trying to get Todoroki to understand. “I actually mean pirouettes.”
Todoroki balls up his piece of paper and throws it at Midoriya's head – and he swats it away. It lands somewhere in Midoriya's bed. “That's ridiculous. It's impossible to do ten pirouettes in a row. You could get away with a couple fouettes in between, just do doubles. Or triples, if you think you can. But I don't know.”
“You're the one that's good at pirouettes,” Midoriya says, searching for the paper. He finds it and throws it back at Todoroki, nailing him in the chest. “I was talking about you.”
“Oh, shut up, you're great at pirouettes.”
Midoriya laughs, grabbing his notebook. “Okay, whatever, no ridiculous pirouettes. Can you toss me the chips? How do you feel about doing a bunch of fouettes while I'm doing something else?”
“That's kind of Swan Lake,” Todoroki hums, leaning over to grab the chips and toss them to Midoriya. “But it's not bad. Other people might do it as well, though.”
Midoriya hums, chewing on the end of his pencil, chips forgotten for now. They have most of their routine planned on paper, but they still have a big space towards the end. Six counts of eight with nothing to fill them with.
“We could do synchronized fouettes,” Todoroki offers, flopping back onto his back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It's past the time that he has the rehearsal space booked, and the rec room is currently being taken up by a group of students playing DnD, so they've just decided to meet in Midoriya's dorm room. Midoriya doesn't mind, it makes him feel kind of warm that Todoroki is comfortable enough with him to come hang out in his room.
“Ooh, I like synchronized stuff, we could – wait, what if we did them the same but opposite? If we can get completely synchronized but going opposite directions, I think it would look so cool.”
Todoroki raises his eyebrows, lifting his head off the bed. “Wait, I like that. How many fouettes can you do in a row? We can make that fit in, and then maybe go back and forth – one of us dancing something and the other one doing fouettes, and then switch.”
Midoriya's eyes widen, and he scribbles madly into his notebook. “I love this. I love it. You're a genius. Um. As of now I can probably only do them consecutively for one count of eight. But we have... what, nine days?”
Todoroki scoffs. “You can't just decide you're gonna get better by the time we do it.”
Midoriya looks up at him, grinning. “Watch me.”
xxx
If there's something that Midoriya is good at, it's pushing himself. It takes him two days to be able to do fouettes without stopping for two whole counts of eight, even if he does get less sleep. He practices as much as he can, in his dorm room, in the rec room, sometimes when he's waiting for the bathroom. It's not uncommon in an arts school to see people doing stuff like that, so he doesn't really feel too self-conscious about it.
He's practicing still, even though he knows he's got it, when there's a knock on his dorm room door. He drops down to his heels again and hurries to open it – was he being too loud for the people under him?
But he's greeted, instead, by Todoroki, and he doesn't really look happy. He raises his eyebrows. “Uh, hey, are you okay?”
“Have you really not eaten?” Todoroki demands, and Midoriya blinks.
“Well, no, I guess not, but it's... only....”
“Midoriya, it's eleven.” Todoroki says, and without asking he pushes his way inside. He's holding a bag, and he sets it on Midoriya's desk, starting to rummage inside. “I brought you some rice and fish. It might be cold by now, sorry. If you had texted me back maybe it wouldn't have been but whatever. You have to eat. Here,” He says, holding out chopsticks and a tupperware. “Eat.”
Midoriya is blushing – but he has to fight actually bursting into tears. Todoroki gives him an odd look. “What?”
“Nothing,” Midoriya chokes out, his heart squeezing in his chest. Todoroki knew that he hadn't eaten, and he didn't just buy him something, he made it and came all the way over to Midoriya's room at eleven o'clock at night to make sure he was taking care of himself. Midoriya has always been the one who cares more, who goes above and beyond for his friends – he's not sure how to handle someone doing something so nice for him.
Todoroki squints at him like he doesn't understand, but doesn't ask again. Instead, he sits down on Midoriya's bed. “I'm not going until you eat,” He declares, and Midoriya chuckles.
“Okay, okay, I'll eat,” He concedes, sitting down in the chair at his desk and opening the containers. It smells great. Todoroki watches with narrowed eyes until Midoriya has eaten at least half of it.
“Okay, now I'll allow you to talk about the routine,” He says, as though he's satisfied, and Midoriya laughs hard enough he chokes a little on the rice. “Please don't die,” Todoroki says, “I need you so I can get a good grade.”
This just makes Midoriya laugh harder, Todoroki's jokes are few and far between, but they're always just exactly Midoriya's brand of humor. Todoroki chuckles as Midoriya tries to catch his breath, still coughing a little. “If I die, you'll be blamed for manslaughter,” He accuses, voice rough.
“Not if they don't find your body,” Todoroki responds immediately.
“Is that a threat?”
“Hey, you're interpreting, I'm just talking over here.”
Midoriya laughs again, but he doesn't have any food in his mouth to choke on. He grabs his water to try to clear his throat of the scratch he's gotten. They will talk routine, but they still have a while. For now, Midoriya doesn't mind just eating and laughing.
xxx
When the day of the assessment rolls around, Midoriya is more nervous than he's been before. He just really wants to do well, he doesn't want to let Todoroki down. So he gets up way too early, takes a shower that is objectively too long and goes to the classroom like an hour before he actually needs to be there. He feels weird – he didn't feel this way before, and it's not like they're really doing anything that is too much harder than it had been before. Sure, he did just learn how to do this many fouettes in a row, but that seems more like an advancement of something he could already do and less like he's trying something completely new. He doesn't know what has changed.
He sits on the bench outside the doors – still locked, of course, and leans back, laying his head on the wall behind him. He knows this routine backwards and forwards, and he's ready. He's excited, even. Maybe that's why he couldn't sleep, couldn't stay in bed.
“You're early.”
Midoriya looks up, blinking. Todoroki stands just a little bit down the hall, hands in his pockets. His hair is still down, hanging around his shoulders. Midoriya smiles. “Says the guy who's at the classroom at seven fifteen.”
Todoroki shrugs a shoulder, walking up to him and sitting down next to him. There's the whole bench, but Todoroki sits right next to him. “Couldn't sleep anymore.”
Midoriya's smile gets wider. “Me neither. Want to practice?”
“No,” Todoroki says. “We've got it.”
A chuckle escapes from Midoriya's chest. They do have it. He's sure of that. He just really really wants to do well. “Yeah, I think we do.”
“Are you nervous?”
Midoriya purses his lips, rubs his hands on his pants. “I guess so? I don't know.”
Todoroki leans over and bumps his shoulder against Midoriya's. “Hey, you've totally got it. You kill your fouettes, I have no idea how you did that in just two days, but you're amazing at them.”
Midoriya smiles, takes a deep breath, gives himself a count of eight. He knows they're going to do great. He knows that. He just can't help but be nervous.
“We'll do great,” Todoroki says, eyes on the wall in front of them, as though it's a fact and not just encouragement, as though he believes it without even the smallest shred of doubt. Midoriya feels nerves turn in his stomach.
“And if we don't?” He asks quietly, eyes on his hands in his lap. He doesn't want Todoroki to hate him, he doesn't want Todoroki to stop being his friend if he messes up. He wants to back out now so he doesn't even have the chance to screw up.
Todoroki seems to consider this for a moment. “Well, if we don't do great, then you won't beat me to the top ranking,” He says with a shrug of his shoulder, and Midoriya can't help the laugh that escapes. Todoroki turns to him, and a small smile graces his face. “If we don't do great,” He says, voice serious, but soft, “That's fine too.”
Midoriya holds his gaze for a moment, just staring at Todoroki looking back. He feels like he understands Todoroki more than he ever has for just this small moment of time. They hold each others' gazes for one-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight – Midoriya's heart keeps time, and he feels like he's not really sure how to breathe – two-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight – his heart is speeding up, so maybe his counts of eight can't really be trusted anymore – three-two-three-four-five-six-sev– and before it can get too much, before Midoriya does something stupid, he manages a nod and a smile and drops his face back to his hands. Todoroki is still smiling, just a little, but he turns back to face front as well.
“Alright,” Midoriya jokes, trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks, “If we don't do great, I'll eat my hat.”
Todoroki's face twists a little, and he turns to look at Midoriya, looking rather disgruntled and confused. Midoriya bites back the laugh for just long enough, just enough time for Todoroki to mumble, “But you're not wearing a hat.”
Midoriya laughs, bright and loud in the early morning light slanting through the window at the end of the hall, and his nerves slip away. Everything's gonna be fine.
xxx
And, for the record, he doesn't have to eat his hat. He doesn't need to log on to the website to know their ranking. Still, he does, just to see those two names sitting next to each other at the very top of the list, like that's exactly where they belong.
five
The year's end approaches with an impending finality, and even though Midoriya knows that he has another year of this, of dancing and moving and laughing in these halls and these classrooms, he doesn't want it to end. It's been full of stress, of overwhelming tests and worry that he's not doing well enough, that he's not keeping up – but still, he kind of wishes that the program was longer than two years.
He enjoys the time that he does have, with Iida, with Yaoyorozu, with the music major that he met from his history of dance music class named Uraraka, with Todoroki. They shift groups, sometimes all of them, sometimes just two of them, sometimes three or more, with somebody new. They laugh and they move, they dance and play games, they have study sessions, they get food, they go see movies in the very small amount of free time they have. (And that is, admittedly, very little. Still, they got out to have fun when they can, and stay in and have fun when they can't.)
Midoriya must admit – he loves all of his friends. He's the one that's first at somebody's dorm room door when they're feeling sick, with cough drops and a heating pad, with ibuprofen and an ice pack. He's the one that's always ready when somebody needs to rant, whenever somebody got a bad grade and just needs to be distracted, whether it be by how terrible Midoriya is at video games or by a really bad romcom, Midoriya is always there. That's who he is. But, well, he's gotta say, it's... it's different around Todoroki.
He doesn't quite know exactly how it is different, or what to do about it, but he knows it is. He refuses to say anything about it at all to any of his friends – especially Todoroki – because he's pretty sure he knows what it is and he doesn't want to think about it at all.
He just wants to enjoy this, to smile at Todoroki as the taller dancer comes down the hall towards him, halfway through putting his hair up into a bun as he walks. To join him as they step into the classroom together, to stretch out in the time before eight. To chat about the last class, to grumble about how they definitely didn't get enough sleep.
He wants to remember, with complete clarity, for the rest of his life, the moment that Aizawa announces, “The end-of-the-year showcase is coming up, and you may dance however you want, solo, in a duet, or as a group,” and Midoriya meets Todoroki's eyes – Todoroki is already looking back – and they know even without words, Midoriya knows that they're going to be dancing together. Just because that's what's right, that's what it's supposed to be. Partners, dancing together for longer than Midoriya feels like he'll ever be able to understand.
He just wants to have this without ruining it.
xxx
"Don't overthink it," Todoroki says, prepping and doing a couple pirouettes in a row. He lands perfectly in third. Midoriya likes how Todoroki just does random dance moves when he's thinking, or when he's got a moment of time and nothing to fill it with. They're not even working on pirouettes right now. "You're overthinking it."
"I can't help it," Midoriya grumbles, trying the step again. "I always overthink stuff."
"I know you do. But you can always get yourself out of your head, too. Focus on dancing. Focus on me, okay?"
Midoriya tries to listen to that advice, but he's pretty sure that it's doing the opposite of helping. He thinks that maybe that's what was distracting him in the first place.
"You had this in class," Todoroki says, demonstrating the jump again. "When Aizawa showed everybody, you were the first one to get it."
"I know,” Midoriya wheezes, trying again. He just can't get it. "Can we take a break?"
Todoroki nods, and Midoriya collapses to the chair next to his bag, grabbing his water bottle. He's not sure what's up with him. There's three weeks of classes left in their first year, there are twenty-two people in class now, sixty-five in their whole program. By the time the next year of classes starts, there will only be sixty of them and two classes. Midoriya knows that they're going to reorganize the classes, and it'll be completely random, and he doesn't know if he'll be with his friends. Sure, he's got a better chance, since there's only two classes, but he really doesn't want to dance alone, he wants to dance with Iida, with Yaoyorozu.
He wants to dance with Todoroki.
So really, he knows that instead of freaking out about this, instead of thinking of what next year might look like, instead of worrying about that, he should be enjoying this time, he should be excited about getting to dance with Todoroki in the showcase, he should be focused on that.
“Want to talk about it?”
Midoriya looks up, smiling a little at Todoroki. At his friend. Todoroki has stopped dancing, he just stands there, staring at Midoriya. He looks pretty concerned, and it makes Midoriya's heart warm. But it's not bad, it's not anything Todoroki should be so concerned about, Todoroki doesn't have to be worried like that, so Midoriya tries to give him a bigger smile.
"I guess I just don't want it to end," Midoriya admits, holding his water bottle in his hands, looking back down at it. He rolls it in his fingers, feeling the water sloshing around. Sometimes he feels like that, like he's half empty, half water, all of his feelings washing up against the walls inside of him. Like they're just a mess, rolling and bubbling and leaking out of the poorly sealed lid.
"The dance?" Todoroki prompts gently. Midoriya shakes his head.
"The program, I guess. With the end of the year approaching, I guess I just..."
Todoroki frowns, putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "It's been a really hard year." He points out, and Midoriya opens his mouth to say never mind, to change the subject, to say forget it, but Todoroki isn't done. He leans back, stretching his back a bit and looking at the ceiling as he speaks. "There's been a lot of stress and hard work and tests and trials. There's been a lot of times when I kind of thought that this was gonna be the death of me. But... you're right," He says. He drops his face back down, meeting Midoriya's eyes. Midoriya is frozen to his chair, staring back at him. His face heats, but he can't look away. He doesn't want to look away. "I think I know what you mean."
They hold each other's gaze for a long moment, and Midoriya wonders what Todoroki is thinking. He's gotten much better at reading Todoroki's face throughout the year, figuring out what his expressions mean, what each squint of his eyes or furrow of his brow equates to. He's gotten pretty dang good at it, if he does say so himself. But there are still moments – moments like these – where Midoriya can be looking right into his face and still have no idea what the guy is thinking. These moments tend to last much longer than the moments that Midoriya does know what's going on.
These moments make his face heat, make his stomach turn a little, make him wonder if he's going to start stammering and look away. These are the moments that have gotten him in trouble. Make him so interested in what's going on in Todoroki's head, so interested in figuring him out, so interested in spending more time with him – more than they already do, which is most of the time that they have.
But they always end the same way, they always end with one of them looking away and changing the subject, and Midoriya is always wondering if he's imagining the faint flush in the taller dancer's cheeks. He kind of wishes his own blush could be mistaken for something else, for maybe the exertion of dancing, maybe the heat of the day, the lack of air conditioning. But he knows that it's way more obvious than he wants it to be.
"Well," Midoriya says, pushing himself up. He's really red, he's fighting the stutter, but he feels kind of better. It's nice to know, at least, that Todoroki feels at least a little similar, Todoroki knows what he means. He's not alone. He's never going to be alone, not as long as Todoroki is here.
Stop thinking things like that, he reminds himself, and he takes another drink from his water bottle and sets it down.
"Let's get back to it, yeah?" He says. Midoriya doesn't need to tell Todoroki that he's feeling better – Todoroki understands, and he smiles very softly. Midoriya isn't the only one who's been learning to read his dance partner. Midoriya's chest squeezes, like it's been shoved into a bag that's a little too small.
“Yeah, let's get back to it.”
xxx
“Alright,” Aizawa says, leaning back in his chair, tucking his face half into the scarf around his neck. The rest of the class is spread out around the sides of the room, leaning on things, on each other, stretching quietly, watching. Midoriya and Todoroki stand in the center of the floor, waiting for their cue. The other two teachers and the principal sit just behind Aizawa, and one of them has a camera recording on a tripod next to her. “Are you two ready?”
Midoriya grins, glancing at Todoroki. The taller dancer blinks at him once, taps the hard toe of his pointe shoe on the ground, and nods. Midoriya isn't nervous – they've practiced endlessly for the past week and a half, in the rehearsal rooms and in their dorm rooms and in the rec room and once out in the courtyard at two in the morning before they got yelled at by a security guard and sent back to their rooms – and besides, this isn't even the actual performance. The teachers just need to watch each dance that's going to go into the showcase to give notes, and then decide what order they're all going to perform. So there's very little stress on this particular showing.
Plus, Midoriya is excited. A pas de deux, (a dance with a couple specific parts – an adagio, variations, you know, dance stuff – between two people, typically a man and woman, but, well, Midoriya has never been one to follow 'typically') which has always been Midoriya's favorite kind of dance. It's soft and sweet in the beginning, moving in the middle, and has a reasonably intense and exciting ending. A bit different from what they've danced together before – mostly for tests they're focused on the unit, on one specific element, and this has a little bit of everything – but it fits. It's perfect, somehow.
“We're ready,” Midoriya says, and the girl who had volunteered to start the music hits play, and the sounds of strings fill the room.
They dance, and Midoriya loses himself to it. There's no reason to think of anything besides this. To think about anything besides the way that he's dancing, the way that Todoroki dances, the way that they dance. No reason to think of anything besides the counts of eight, steady and sure in his mind. There's no reason to let his mind stray from spinning Todoroki in front of him, of holding his waist solidly as he stands en pointe and leans down to brush his fingers across the floor, his other leg rising to the sky, gesturing languidly and beautifully.
And since this isn't a typical pas de deux, since there is no ballerina to do all of the spinning, they can smile to each other and switch, Midoriya up en pointe as Todoroki spins him, as Todoroki supports his weight so he can dip as well. It's fun – hearing the watching audience chuckle at the switch – it's exactly as it should be, it's just as dancing is supposed to be. Dancing is supposed to make you feel good.
And god, does dancing with Todoroki make him feel good.
The music crescendos and they do as well, Midoriya lifting Todoroki to give him an extra moment in the air, moving throughout the space in sync, going up into pointe together and back down, filling the room as only a pair. Keep the audience's eyes, keep them enraptured, tell a story. They dance out to the edges of the floor and turn to face each other, pausing to gesture – because ballet is really nothing without its gestures – and then Midoriya steps forward and opens his arms, sure and steady, so Todoroki can jump.
Todoroki doesn't hesitate, throwing himself confidently into Midoriya's arms, who catches him without any problem. He shifts easily to Midoriya's shoulder and then back around, just as a ballerina would. Midoriya holds his waist with one arm and under his leg with the other and dips his upper body towards the floor, allowing him to hold the pose for a short moment. And then it's back up, setting him on his feet, and moving back around to do it again. Todoroki is measured and graceful and beautiful to watch, and Midoriya catches, carries and lifts him like he's as light as a feather. Midoriya lets everything else fade away, and he doesn't care about who's watching, about any grade, about any ranking. He just dances, he just lives in this moment.
He lives in the moment that Todoroki runs as though he's going to jump, but instead of standing sure and steady as he has been, Midoriya kneels towards Todoroki, who is running for him. One-two – the taller dancer goes up en pointe and arches his back, falling to Midoriya, trusting him completely. Three-four – And Midoriya is there, catching his waist and holding him there to keep him steady, letting Shouto lean in and stretch out his other leg, his arms, like he's flying – five-six – and they're nose-to-nose, they're just inches away – seven-eight – Shouto's eyes are sparkling, and Midoriya can't help the grin that hits his face. In just a flash, Shouto smiles back, for just the briefest moment, and then it's the next count of eight and they're up and away again, moving completely synchronized, as though they're made up of the same stuff, they're created from the same stardust, they share the same molecules and atoms and soul from across the space.
And all too soon it's over, Todoroki holds him around the middle and they both go up en pointe, gesturing with one arm into the sky, holding their final pose for the last crescendo of music.
The watching students burst into applause without even the slightest hesitation, and Midoriya drops back down to his heels, turns to face Todoroki and pumps his fists into the air. Todoroki laughs, which is always a lovely, lovely sight, and wraps his arms around Midoriya, sweeping him up into a hug. Midoriya flushes as red as he's ever gone but hugs him back, flinging his arms around Todoroki's shoulders and holding on as though it's the last thing he'll ever do.
They break away and Midoriya is sure he can't be imagining Todoroki's red face, but he writes it off as exercise-induced and grins, hooks his arm with Todoroki's and turns back to the teachers as the class's applause dies down. Todoroki doesn't hold his arm back, but he doesn't make any move to pull away, doesn't even shift, so Midoriya keeps holding on.
The teachers try to give notes, but it becomes increasingly apparent that they don't really have very many, it's all little stuff like 'watch your rotation on the assisted jumps' and 'smile a bit more, Todoroki' and nothing major. Midoriya still takes notes, wanting to be the best that he can, before they go to sit to watch the next performance, leaning back against the wall together and unlacing their pointe shoes.
“I think that was the best we've ever done,” Todoroki hums, and Midoriya can't wipe the grin off his face.
“I think so too,” Midoriya says, turned to look at his partner, who swivels his head to look back. A small smile graces his face, and they hold each other's gazes for a moment, the chattering of the class fading away to nothing, just Midoriya and his partner, just Todoroki and him, sitting on the floor that they just danced across as though that's exactly as it should be. Because it is. That's how it should be, Midoriya and Todoroki out there, dancing and existing and feeling together. For a brief moment it feels like they're still dancing together, like this is another moment out on the floor, standing up en pointe, breathless and effortless, faces inches apart. Like this moment is dancing, this moment is them, together in time and space in a way Midoriya will never be able to fully comprehend.
But then Aizawa is talking to the next performers and they're pulled from it, they turn back to face front and Midoriya warms as Todoroki settles down so their shoulders are pressed together. He leans a little closer, the ghost of the grin that had been on his face before still playing on his lips, the memory of that feeling in his chest fluttering around like butterflies.
The next morning he wakes up to a text from Todoroki – a screenshot of the website, where they've set Midoriya and Todoroki's dance as the grand finale for the showcase.
six
Todoroki feels like he's still dancing.
His steps are elongated, padding on the balls of his feet, holding rotation, landing in third every time he stops walking. He can still hear the crowd cheering for them, he can still see the breathless grin on Midoriya's face, he can still feel that... that... that something in his chest that's only there when he's dancing with Midoriya. He's not sure when that changed, he's not sure when dancing started to mean more for him than it used to. He's not sure when it stopped being to get this job or fuck you, dad, I do what I want or to get the top spot. Somewhere along the way it started being to express and to feel and to have fun.
He doesn't know when it happened, but he does know who he can trace it back to.
“God,” Midoriya is saying, his smile bright in the night, his excitement warm in the cold air. He spins once next to Todoroki, his shoes crunching on the gravel beneath them. There are fireflies all around, stars above, absolute silence in every direction. It's an endless kind of night, the kind where Todoroki feels breathless, the kind that it feels like it might linger after even his great-great grandkids are dead. The showcase ended no more than twenty minutes prior, and they had decided it was a great time to go get ice cream or something, a celebration, made it through the first year, survived the first showcase, part of the sixty students going into the second year of the program.
“I'm going to go ask Iida and Yaoyorozu if they want to come,” Midoriya had said, turning to bounce towards the two mentioned, but Todoroki caught him around the wrist before he could start off.
“Let them go,” Todoroki had whispered, nodding at them. Midoriya turned to see, noticed what Todoroki had been seeing for weeks, heads leaned close together, hands close to brushing, cheeks warmed and private smiles.
“Oh,” Midoriya had whispered back, and then as he stared at them, the widest, softest and gooiest grin that Todoroki had ever seen on him stretched across those cheeks, eyes squinting up. Todoroki had watched him instead of the couple, fascinated by the smile on his face, and the... odd familiarity on it. Like he had seen that smile on Midoriya's face before. But he wasn't sure where.
“That was so fun,” Midoriya continues, and Todoroki blinks to bring himself back to the present. The walk downtown is not long, down a small gravel path near the road. It feels warm, secluded, private. Todoroki still feels like he's dancing.
“It was,” he agrees, humming softly. “I'm glad we got to do that.”
“Me too,” Midoriya murmurs, tilting his face to the sky, looking up at the stars. “Thank you for dancing with me.”
Todoroki smiles, his hands in his pockets. He feels oddly like maybe he could say a lot of honest things that might be read as very sappy. Instead, he responds, “Of course.”
“Hey, Todoroki?”
Todoroki stops, realizing that Midoriya has stopped walking. He turns half back, raising an eyebrow curiously. Midoriya is standing on the path, his hands at his sides, face dropped to the ground. His face is pretty red, but it has been since they danced, and Todoroki had decided he wasn't going to read into it.
“Yeah? Are you okay?”
Midoriya nods a little, his hands clenching and then going slack. Todoroki turns the rest of the way around, his hands still in his pockets, his feet coming to third. Midoriya stands in parallel, feet shoulder-width apart, grounded and looking like he's trying to brace himself. He certainly doesn't seem okay. Todoroki kind of hates that he has noticed, but Midoriya usually stands in something close to first position. They stand there for a count of eight, another, start a third count...
“Todoroki, would you be... my dance partner?”
Todoroki blinks, and stares at the shorter dancer. He raises his face, meeting Todoroki's eyes, his face red. His eyes are wide and his eyebrows tent together on his forehead, like he's scared, like he's worried, like he's saying something that's hard to say and not this thing that Todoroki doesn't really understand at all. Because there's no test, there's no showcase, there's no dance that they need a partner for. For the next three weeks they have a break. There's no reason to have a dance partner.
He frowns, tilting his head a little to the side. “But... the class is over? We don't even know if we're going to be in the same class next year, and we don't have any other... dances or anything...” He trails off as Izuku flushes an even deeper red, and Todoroki's mind is consumed by that color on his cheeks instead of what he had been saying. He looks like a painting, fireflies floating by behind him, the night sky laid out around them like a backdrop, standing solidly on the ground, sure and steady – exactly as he stood when he opened his arms for Todoroki to jump into. Todoroki has the urge to throw himself into Midoriya's arms at this moment as well. He doesn't see that going so well.
“N-no I mean,” Midoriya stammers, his hands coming up, wringing together in front of him. “I mean uh. Like. Um. Always? Will you... do you want to... Um, would you like to be my dance partner in like... in life?”
Todoroki stares at the shorter dancer as he just keeps getting red – Todoroki wouldn't be surprised if he started steaming soon – stammering and squeezing his hands together. He finishes speaking and his mouth gapes for a moment, like he wants to say more but words have decided that they're not going to be his friend anymore, and he snaps his jaw closed. This question requires an answer, but Todoroki opts for just looking at Midoriya for a count of eight, taking him in, just... just feeling. Because he feels so so much. In his chest and his face and his stomach and his legs and his palms and his fingers. He's getting to the point where he's not sure he's going to be able to stop from throwing himself into Midoriya's arms.
The way he had asked is rather awkward, not eloquent and not really what Todoroki imagined a confession might look like, but he also doesn't want it to be any other way. He stands there, looking up at Todoroki, and he's just so endearing that Todoroki can't take it.
So he gives in, he stops resisting the urge to throw himself forward, he lets his legs move to close that gap between them like they're still dancing – one-two-three-four – he lets himself take Midoriya's face in his palms – five-six – he holds him there for just a breath, a moment, taking in the way that Midoriya looks up at him, eyes full of emotion and slightly glassy with tears, the hands that grab onto his arms – seven – and with the final count Todoroki tips his head down to kiss him.
And Todoroki gets why he said it this way, why he asked if he'd be a dance partner – because everything is dancing. The way that Midoriya kisses is like going up en pointe, holding there for a breath and coming back down, the way that Midoriya wraps his arms around Todoroki's neck is like a slow and steady gesture, across the stage from each other, the way that Midoriya smiles against his mouth is the same way he smiles as they nail their routine.
Todoroki wraps his arms around Midoriya and lifts him into the air, and Midoriya breaks away to laugh as Todoroki spins him around. “Hey, I'm supposed to be doing the lifting,” He chuckles, opening his eyes to smile down at Todoroki, his cheeks warm, his lips kissed red, eyes shining. Todoroki smiles back, rests his forehead on Midoriya's and lets his feet back to the ground.
“I can't just let you monopolize the lifting,” He murmurs, enjoying the sound of Midoriya's laugh in the still night. He wraps an arm around Midoriya's back and takes his hand, turns them slowly, holding Midoriya close, dancing like there's nothing else. Dancing the way that Midoriya taught him. Not for a grade, not as a statement, not to be the best. Dancing the way that he wants to dance for the rest of his life – dancing just to exist here, dancing just to be close to this boy he cares about, dancing just to feel warm, dancing just to dance.
And he hopes that he'll be dancing like this – one-two-three-four – gliding over the ground – five-six-seven-eight – swaying back and forth – two-two-three-four – leaning forward to press soft kisses to Midoriya's lips – five-six-seven-eight – for years to come, all divided into perfect counts of eight.