love scenario
Feb. 16th, 2021 12:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
softpunkstodoroki shouto/midoriya izuku // ~4.5k
> piece for TodoDeku Serendipity Zine; Love Alarm AU
Shouto knows something is up the moment Jirou casually slips behind the counter even though he’s supposed to be the only person stationed here and she’s supposed to be doing her assigned task of waiting tables. She isn’t scheduled to be a cashier until next week.
“Don’t look,” Jirou starts. “But we’re about to watch a live rom-com movie scene unfold before our very eyes.”
Shouto doesn’t actually plan to look up, not when he’s trying to dutifully do his task of recounting the money they’ve earned so far for the third time in the past half an hour. It’s getting late, slowly approaching nine in the evening. Business in 1A, one of the many grill restaurants downtown, earning a steady stream of income, has always been unnaturally slow on Sundays.
Jirou nudges him hard on his side with her elbow. He reluctantly tears his eyes away from the bills to follow her gaze.
He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to expect. There’s a girl and a boy in one of the round tables in the middle section of their restaurant—university students, Shouto guesses—and they’re taking their phones out. They look hesitant, the boy mostly, but then the girl says something Shouto can’t make out from the distance, and it must motivate the guy, because he nods, and they simultaneously open the same app on their phones. The restaurant is by no means quiet, especially with the songs from Jirou’s playlist echoing in the restaurant, but somehow, two practically in-sync dings manage to reach Shouto’s ears.
“They’re using Love Alarm,” he comments.
Jirou snorts. “Of course they are. What else could they be using?” Then, she says, “Hey, you should download Love Alarm.”
“No.” With the spectacle over and the couple having finally confirmed their feelings for another—not that it’s any of Shouto’s business as to the outcome—he returns to his job. It’s not like what he’d just seen wasn’t spectacular, it’s just... pretty ordinary, especially in the world they live in today. Shouto understands the hype of Love Alarm on a base level, but can’t share the sentiment.
Besides, the app has been around for half a year already; the excitement should’ve died down, as does any other trend, whether it be some new technological discovery or not. He doesn’t get why Jirou is making a big deal out of it, but maybe it has less to do with the fact that it’s Love Alarm and more for the fact that it’s romance.
A result of being in love herself, Shouto supposes.
“It’s your first time seeing Love Alarm in action, right?” Jirou asks him, and it doesn’t seem like she plans on leaving him alone anytime soon. “Doesn’t that make you curious?”
Kaminari, who happens to be passing by, actually doing his job as a waiter and on his way to bringing the dirty plates back to the kitchen area, rolls his eyes. “Not this again.”
“Shoo, Kaminari,” Jirou retorts. Kaminari makes a face at her but complies. “C’mon, Todoroki.”
Like Kaminari, Shouto wishes he could walk away from this conversation. Except it keeps on coming up because he evades it, and this has already been going on for a week. To be fair, she probably wouldn’t pester him this much if he’d give her a straight answer. It doesn’t change the fact that until now, he can’t muster much of a response besides a shrug. “I’m not interested.”
“Bullshit,” Jirou replies immediately. “You can’t be uninterested in something you never tried. Even Bakugou is curious.” It’s a valid point, and it doesn’t help that Shouto also happens to be a shitty liar. “Love Alarm isn’t going to drastically change your life once you download it, you know.”
Shouto gives up and returns the money in the cash box. “Why are you so insistent on me downloading it?”
It hits him that he’s never asked her yet, despite how long this has been going on. Then again, he mostly brushes her off and ends the conversation whenever she’d ask, but he has a sinking feeling that she isn’t budging tonight. She’s probably just as sick of this game as he is, regardless of the fact that she’s the one who refuses to just let it go.
“Because you’re missing out?” Jirou says like he’s stupid for not considering this fact. “This is basically a prerequisite to being a teenager, Todoroki. Don’t you ever wanna let go and live a little? We’re already in our last year of high school.” As if he can’t do those very things in college. But he does get where she’s coming from. Sort of. She’s his friend and she’s looking out for his well-being. “Also, I made a bet with Kaminari that I can get you to download Love Alarm.”
Shouto doesn’t know why he wasted time mulling about how thoughtful Jirou was as a person, and he doesn’t know why he expected anything else. “Telling me this isn’t helping your situation, you know.”
“I meant what I said though,” Jirou says, and she doesn’t sound like she’s lying. “About both. Just—give it a week. Like I said, you can’t say no to something you’ve never done. If it really sucks, then you can tell me ‘I told you so’.”
“What makes you think I’ll gain any satisfaction from that?”
Jirou sighs. “Are you not downloading it because you’re still in love with Midoriya?”
“No.” Shouto paused a split second too long before answering, and from the look on Jirou’s face, she clearly caught on. He clears his throat. “I’m not.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’re not,” He insists. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t still be close.”
“You’re right. You two are just weird.”
Jirou is the only one who knows that Midoriya and Shouto used to date, as well as the fact that they broke up. The relationship was for the majority of their second year, but they eventually called things off after a good five months because Midoriya was chosen to go to U.A. High’s exchange program in America. It was a reminder to them that they were high school students, the future broad and unpredictable; there’s a reason people always say high school relationships never last.
Shouto likes to think that returning to their roots as friends hadn’t been difficult because it was a mutual decision and there weren’t any hard feelings. They hadn’t seen the point of telling anyone about their breakup when no one knew they were previously together, and even if it wouldn’t make things awkward between them, they knew their friends well enough to know that they would. They nipped it in the bud, breaking things off when things were good and steady before they’d end up doing so in less than ideal circumstances.
It hadn’t been difficult, objectively speaking. It doesn’t change the fact that every now and then Shouto would feel a notable pang in his heart when he realizes there are some things they can never do again.
“There’s a saying, you know,” Jirou tells him. “If two people can be friends despite having been together before, then it either means two things. One is that they weren’t really in love, and the other is that they never actually stopped. So if you’re not in love with Midoriya anymore, prove it by downloading Love Alarm.”
The first option makes Shouto’s insides churn uncomfortably, because he doesn’t want to believe that he was never in love with Midoriya, but he isn’t in love with Midoriya anymore.
“Fine,” he gives in, because at least this way, Jirou will stop nagging him about it once he proves her wrong.
She eyes him as if trying to figure out if he’s lying. He’s not. When she eventually comes to that conclusion, she nods, satisfied with herself. “Okay. I’ll get back to work now.” Jirou makes her way out of the booth but then turns to him at the last moment and points to him accusingly. “You better download it, okay! I better see that app logo on your phone screen tomorrow morning!”
Jirou finally leaves. Shouto decides that he’s used up his quota for social interaction for the day.
Shouto knows the real reason Jirou is insistent on him downloading Love Alarm is not because of wanting to win the bet against Kaminari, nor is it because she actually cares about his social well-being, but because she thinks the app will prove that he hasn’t gotten over Midoriya despite saying that he has.
It’s a bit irritating that she cares so much, because she’s right. Shouto has no intention of confirming it though, and in the same way Love Alarm is the best way to confirm that he does, it’s also the best way to make her believe that he doesn’t.
The thing is, Love Alarm doesn’t lie. But Shouto doesn't have to lie about his feelings when they’ll never be exposed in the first place.
After all, Midoriya doesn’t have Love Alarm.
Having Love Alarm, objectively, is not really that bad. Shouto’s still not a big fan of it, especially when it circulates in U.A. High that he downloaded the app because his phone kept on pinging incessantly within the first two days of the week. Shouto would normally pretend that his phone rings because of other things—text messages from his family, the group chat of 1A wherein Kaminari mostly sends spam, and the recent music game he downloaded out of boredom. In truth, he knows it’s none of those because (1) his family is not the texting type, (2) he muted the 1A group chat, and (3) he deleted the music game five hours after downloading it.
Besides, Love Alarm has its own distinct ring, so there’s no way for him to delude himself into thinking it’s something else.
In the end, it’s impossible to spend the two days oblivious, so he ends up in a constantly embarrassed state. It wouldn’t be that bad if the people ringing his Love Alarm felt any shame at being caught in the act.
But they don’t, so it’s just Shouto suffering.
1A is busiest only from Thursday to Saturday, but even though it’s Wednesday, Shouto meticulously prepares each of the tables two hours before the restaurant opens. It would be a good sign of diligence if not for the fact that he’s really just doing it so that he can keep himself busy. Meanwhile, the rest of his friends, who are notably not doing anything related to their job, continue to gossip amongst themselves about Shouto’s newfound but unsurprising popularity with his Love Alarm.
All of them save Shouto are crowded around the counter area as if 1A isn’t big enough for them to just occupy one of the tables in the corner and chat. Then again, they’re probably doing it out of respect for Shouto wanting to keep things as orderly as possible.
Kaminari is bemoaning for the third time about how it’s unfair that Shouto “gets all the chicks” when he isn’t even interested. Kirishima replies by saying that he’s a man among men for his accomplishment. Jirou makes a snarky comment about either one of the boy’s responses, and Midoriya will laugh along and tease them lightly, but mostly maintain his role as a listener and spectator to their charade. (Which doesn’t mean anything, Shouto tells himself, before trying to telepathically tell Jirou the same thing to wipe that scrutinizing look off her face whenever she glances at their green-haired friend.)
What’s surprising is that Bakugou, of all people, is with them, though he’s not really participating in the conversation and mostly just grunting as he stares at his phone, angrily tapping at the screen.
Shouto is familiar enough with the flow of the conversation that he has it vaguely memorized.
Then, Kirishima says, “How come you don’t have Love Alarm, Midoriya?”
The script breaks. Shouto is now completely paying attention. He swears it’s not intentional, but maybe his ears have gotten a bit too used to reacting to the sound of Midoriya’s name and his voice, because crushes are a greedy thing and Midoriya is Shouto’s first everything. He doesn’t falter in his job of wiping the plates clean, but he purposely slows his movements so he can focus on what Midoriya is going to say. It’s not eavesdropping when it’s not meant to be a private conversation. Shouto is technically part of it, as much as he acts like he doesn’t want to be involved.
He looks up just in time to see Midoriya scratch the back of his neck at the question. “It’s kind of pointless for someone like me? It’s not like anyone is going to ring my Love Alarm, after all, and it’s a waste of time feeling bad about something I’d already know even without the app.”
From the way everyone suddenly goes quiet at Midoriya’s confession, it’s evident that they didn’t expect that answer. The lightheaded and teasing atmosphere in the room is gone, replaced with something awkward and somber. Shouto can’t help but frown to himself, because Midoriya is wrong and he would ring the other’s Love Alarm.
Then he shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. He should be relieved that Midoriya doesn’t want to download Love Alarm, because that means being able to keep his feelings a secret for a little longer.
He’s always hated moments like these though, when Midoriya would beat himself down so plainly even though everyone—Shouto, out of all—holds him to high regard. What he hates more though is that as much as Shouto wants to do something, he knows he can’t without compromising something of his in return.
Half an hour before opening time, they disperse to get changed and prepare for 1A’s opening. From the corner of his eye, he catches Bakugou grab Midoriya by the shoulder to tell him something in a hushed voice.
Fifteen minutes before 1A begins business, Kaminari says, “Midoriya! You’re downloading Love Alarm! What’d Bakugou say to get you to say yes?”
“None of your business!” Bakugou yells from the kitchen, apparently having heard them.
Midoriya just laughs awkwardly. “Nothing that important.”
Shouto, who is inside the employees’ room and heard the conversation through the opened door, immediately scrambles to get his phone and deactivate his Love Alarm just in time for Midoriya’s download to be complete. Jirou is outside of 1A fixing the sign, and the rest haven’t noticed Shouto at all.
He exits the employees’ room and passes by Midoriya and Kaminari who stare at the former’s phone like nothing is amiss to head to the kitchen.
Shouto wonders if he imagined the disappointed look on Midoriya’s face when his Love Alarm shows zero.
On Friday, after school, Midoriya and Shouto find themselves alone in the local convenience store. It’s not unusual, considering that they’ve done this before, but before was when they were still dating, and they haven’t done this since then. When they’re in school, it’s fine, but outside is different.
They don’t have work at the 1A on Mondays and Fridays, and the rest of their friends have either decided to spend the remainder of the day home or out with other friends neither of the two are close with, so it was a given they drifted towards one another. Midoriya is supposed to meet up with Uraraka, but he has time to kill until then, and Shouto isn’t really in the mood to return home.
It’s not as bad as Shouto expects. Midoriya asked if he wanted to go with him just as he was exiting the campus gate before he and Uraraka would see one another. They walked down the familiar road to the corner store closest to U.A. High and where they lived. They bought food—Midoriya a hot cup of ramen, and Shouto a bag of chips—went out, and talked about everything and nothing. It’s nice.
Midoriya’s freckles are especially prominent under the sun as they eat right outside the store, and his curls bounce whenever he nods at something Shouto says. The latter pinpoints these all distantly, a poor attempt on his part to not be too attached and automatically failing, but it’s okay because he feels weightless, like being with Midoriya has caused all the exhaustion from the week’s events to leave his shoulders.
“Say,” Midoriya starts. Shouto hums noncommittally. “What happened to your Love Alarm?”
Shouto freezes. They never talk about Love Alarm when it’s just the two of them, because he’s always associated talking about Love Alarm to talking about their history, which they’ve never done since their breakup, almost as if it never happened in the first place.
He’s not good at reading Midoriya, so he doesn’t know what he’s thinking, what the other wants to hear as an answer. “Nothing,” Shouto lies. “I didn’t do anything to it.”
He deactivated it, actually. He would’ve uninstalled the app entirely, but he remembers his bet to Jirou and doesn’t think it would be fair to lie to her and pretend like he still kept it for the entire week when he hadn’t. At least she never instilled any rule that he had to keep it on, which was the major flaw in her goal to reveal his feelings. Deactivating Love Alarm means making sure you can’t ring anyone’s Love Alarm and no one can ring yours, though it’ll only last for a certain time period. It’s tedious work having to deactivate it over and over again every time there’s school or work and Midoriya is nearby, but it’s the price he has to pay to keep his feelings safe.
Midoriya frowns at his words. Shouto doesn’t understand the reason for the expression. He doesn’t have time to try though, because then Midoriya says, “I’m probably going to delete mine.”
He had it for only around two days. “Why did you even download it?” asks Shouto.
“I don’t know,” Midoriya answers. “I thought—I don’t know. I thought something would happen.”
Again, Shouto doesn’t understand. Midoriya doesn’t look like he plans on elaborating, lost in thought, and he’s about to ask, but they suddenly hear Uraraka’s honey-sweet voice call out for Midoriya. The latter bids him goodbye and quickly bounds to his friend’s side.
Shouto takes out his phone and hesitantly hovers his finger over the Activate option. He only manages to press it just as Midoriya steps out of his 10-meter orbit.
“I gotta hand it to you, Todoroki,” Jirou says the next day after 1A has closed and they’ve finished a grueling day of work. They don’t typically walk home together because Shouto stays the latest to lock up the shop, but tonight, Jirou had waited for him. “You proved me wrong.”
Shouto looks at her strangely. “What?”
“Midoriya’s Love Alarm didn’t ring,” Jirou supplies. “Even with you in the room.”
Shouto nods dumbly, feeling conflicted. He’s tempted to just leave it at that. He convinced Jirou. Midoriya doesn’t know anything. Shouto is getting everything he wanted when he agreed to this deal with her. He shouldn’t regret anything.
“It was because I deactivated it,” Shouto blurts out. Jirou, who had already been finished with the conversation and starting to walk ahead of him, stops. She slowly turns to him, eyebrows raised. “I did it because I didn’t want to admit that you were right. I’m still in love with Midoriya.”
He expects her to be mad for lying, but she looks thoughtful. “I didn’t expect you to be so honest,” she admits. “But why now, when you had the chance to do it for the whole week?”
Shouto lowers his eyes. “I’m scared of telling him.”
He feels a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. He looks up to meet Jirou’s comforting gaze. “Todoroki,” she starts. “That’s what Love Alarm is for. To convey what the heart feels when words can’t.”
The next morning, Shouto leaves the house as quietly as he can to not wake up his siblings. He departs just as the sun starts to rise on the horizon. He’s never been an early bird, but he’s awake now because he knows Midoriya likes this time best; the sun’s heat doesn’t beat down on him as he goes on his daily morning jogs.
He texts Midoriya to meet him at the convenience store. Shouto has the other’s morning jog route memorized, and it’s never changed despite the time that has passed, so he knows that it’s on the way and won’t put Midoriya out of his usual path. The store is open 24/7 but the cashier there looks half-asleep, so he waits right outside instead of killing his time trying to buy something inside, leaning on the bike rack area, and trying not to lose his nerve.
Shouto activates his Love Alarm and waits. He doesn’t know what time Midoriya will get here; he just knows that he will. It’s a bit unnerving, having to wait in such a bare state, that fear that Midoriya will walk right within his radar because Shouto wanted to see him only to see a zero on the screen, saying no one within 10-meters loves you. But turning it off and then reactivating it again after Midoriya gets here isn’t an option, because he knows he’ll pull back and chicken out.
He thinks about seeing Midoriya standing right in front of him and the screen remaining unchanged. It’s a thought that fills him with dread, but he thinks he’ll have to learn to become familiar with it. He isn’t doing this so Midoriya will return his feelings, after all. He’s doing this because—
“You deserve to know that you’ve loved,” he says quietly. “You deserve to know that I’ll always ring your Love Alarm.”
He doesn’t notice the footsteps until there’s already a shadow looming over him. Shouto startles and turns, but to his relief, it’s... Bakugou. “Bakugou? Why are you here?”
“Don’t sound so damn disappointed, half ‘n half,” Bakugou huffs. “Sometimes I join Deku in his stupid morning routines.” He looks down, just then, at Shouto’s phone, and the latter immediately presses the device close to his chest to hide the screen, even if Bakugou’s already seen it.
“I—”
“Shut up. I know why you’re here.” At Shouto’s wide-eyed bewildered expression, Bakugou scowls. “I’m his best friend. Of course I know.”
Bakugou knows. Does that mean Midoriya knows too? “Is that why he’s not here? Because he’s not coming, so he sent you instead.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Like I’d ever do him a favor like that. And calm down,” he says sternly. “I went ahead ‘cause you needed to know how much of an idiot you’re being.” He reaches over to flick Shouto hard on the forehead. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just trust that stupid thing.”
Without waiting for a reply back, Bakugou walks away and resumes on his trail. Shouto watches him leave before wincing at the sting he feels on his forehead, and rubs it tenderly before closing his eyes, feeling exhausted. Even with just using a finger, Bakugou exerts too much strength.
Just trust that stupid thing. Bakugou says, as if Shouto isn’t already trying.
For what feels like a moment, he forgets that his eyes are closed and they shouldn’t be, forgets that he’s leaning on the wall of a convenience store and waiting, forgets that in his hands is his vulnerable, affectionate heart and a device that’s programmed to find someone else who shares the same level of vulnerability and affection. He forgets it all for a second and almost falls asleep, but then the resounding sound of a beep makes him snap his eyes wide open in realization.
His movements are slow and he doesn’t look down immediately, but eventually, he manages to lower his eyes to his phone screen.
A pulsing sound. One person within 10-meters loves you.
“Todoroki-kun,” someone says.
Shouto doesn’t move. He doesn’t move, but he does look up. Midoriya stands in front of him. He still hasn’t recovered from the shock of the notification. One person within 10-meters loves you.
Midoriya is holding up his phone too, wearing the same shell-shocked expression. Another pulsing sound, beating at its own pace. One person within 10-meters loves you.
"Todoroki-kun," Midoroya says again. "You—"
"I didn't expect that to happen," Shouto blurts out. "I didn't, but I wanted it to, but I realized that even if you didn't, it wouldn't have mattered because what does matter is you knowing that there is someone out there who will always love you, and that person—that's me." He clenches his fists. "But it didn't stop me from hoping anyway that mine would ring too, because I—"
"We shouldn't have broken up," Midoriya interrupts. Shouto is stunned into silence by the certainty in Midoriya’s tone. "I regretted it the moment after, but you accepted it so easily that I just thought you secretly wanted it. You wouldn't tell me how you ever really felt, but I didn't want to keep guessing forever, because what if I'd been wrong the whole time?"
"You're not."
"I know," Midoriya says. "I know now, and you do too, don't you?" He walks closer to Shouto and reaches over to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Todoroki," he starts. "I will always ring your Love Alarm. Will you ring mine too?"
It's already ringing. He almost says, but it's not like Midoriya doesn't already know that. Instead, he leans down and captures Midoriya in a sweet kiss.
The distinct sound of Love Alarm, resonating from two devices, merges into a single, heartbeat-like thrum.
> piece for TodoDeku Serendipity Zine; Love Alarm AU
Shouto knows something is up the moment Jirou casually slips behind the counter even though he’s supposed to be the only person stationed here and she’s supposed to be doing her assigned task of waiting tables. She isn’t scheduled to be a cashier until next week.
“Don’t look,” Jirou starts. “But we’re about to watch a live rom-com movie scene unfold before our very eyes.”
Shouto doesn’t actually plan to look up, not when he’s trying to dutifully do his task of recounting the money they’ve earned so far for the third time in the past half an hour. It’s getting late, slowly approaching nine in the evening. Business in 1A, one of the many grill restaurants downtown, earning a steady stream of income, has always been unnaturally slow on Sundays.
Jirou nudges him hard on his side with her elbow. He reluctantly tears his eyes away from the bills to follow her gaze.
He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to expect. There’s a girl and a boy in one of the round tables in the middle section of their restaurant—university students, Shouto guesses—and they’re taking their phones out. They look hesitant, the boy mostly, but then the girl says something Shouto can’t make out from the distance, and it must motivate the guy, because he nods, and they simultaneously open the same app on their phones. The restaurant is by no means quiet, especially with the songs from Jirou’s playlist echoing in the restaurant, but somehow, two practically in-sync dings manage to reach Shouto’s ears.
“They’re using Love Alarm,” he comments.
Jirou snorts. “Of course they are. What else could they be using?” Then, she says, “Hey, you should download Love Alarm.”
“No.” With the spectacle over and the couple having finally confirmed their feelings for another—not that it’s any of Shouto’s business as to the outcome—he returns to his job. It’s not like what he’d just seen wasn’t spectacular, it’s just... pretty ordinary, especially in the world they live in today. Shouto understands the hype of Love Alarm on a base level, but can’t share the sentiment.
Besides, the app has been around for half a year already; the excitement should’ve died down, as does any other trend, whether it be some new technological discovery or not. He doesn’t get why Jirou is making a big deal out of it, but maybe it has less to do with the fact that it’s Love Alarm and more for the fact that it’s romance.
A result of being in love herself, Shouto supposes.
“It’s your first time seeing Love Alarm in action, right?” Jirou asks him, and it doesn’t seem like she plans on leaving him alone anytime soon. “Doesn’t that make you curious?”
Kaminari, who happens to be passing by, actually doing his job as a waiter and on his way to bringing the dirty plates back to the kitchen area, rolls his eyes. “Not this again.”
“Shoo, Kaminari,” Jirou retorts. Kaminari makes a face at her but complies. “C’mon, Todoroki.”
Like Kaminari, Shouto wishes he could walk away from this conversation. Except it keeps on coming up because he evades it, and this has already been going on for a week. To be fair, she probably wouldn’t pester him this much if he’d give her a straight answer. It doesn’t change the fact that until now, he can’t muster much of a response besides a shrug. “I’m not interested.”
“Bullshit,” Jirou replies immediately. “You can’t be uninterested in something you never tried. Even Bakugou is curious.” It’s a valid point, and it doesn’t help that Shouto also happens to be a shitty liar. “Love Alarm isn’t going to drastically change your life once you download it, you know.”
Shouto gives up and returns the money in the cash box. “Why are you so insistent on me downloading it?”
It hits him that he’s never asked her yet, despite how long this has been going on. Then again, he mostly brushes her off and ends the conversation whenever she’d ask, but he has a sinking feeling that she isn’t budging tonight. She’s probably just as sick of this game as he is, regardless of the fact that she’s the one who refuses to just let it go.
“Because you’re missing out?” Jirou says like he’s stupid for not considering this fact. “This is basically a prerequisite to being a teenager, Todoroki. Don’t you ever wanna let go and live a little? We’re already in our last year of high school.” As if he can’t do those very things in college. But he does get where she’s coming from. Sort of. She’s his friend and she’s looking out for his well-being. “Also, I made a bet with Kaminari that I can get you to download Love Alarm.”
Shouto doesn’t know why he wasted time mulling about how thoughtful Jirou was as a person, and he doesn’t know why he expected anything else. “Telling me this isn’t helping your situation, you know.”
“I meant what I said though,” Jirou says, and she doesn’t sound like she’s lying. “About both. Just—give it a week. Like I said, you can’t say no to something you’ve never done. If it really sucks, then you can tell me ‘I told you so’.”
“What makes you think I’ll gain any satisfaction from that?”
Jirou sighs. “Are you not downloading it because you’re still in love with Midoriya?”
“No.” Shouto paused a split second too long before answering, and from the look on Jirou’s face, she clearly caught on. He clears his throat. “I’m not.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’re not,” He insists. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t still be close.”
“You’re right. You two are just weird.”
Jirou is the only one who knows that Midoriya and Shouto used to date, as well as the fact that they broke up. The relationship was for the majority of their second year, but they eventually called things off after a good five months because Midoriya was chosen to go to U.A. High’s exchange program in America. It was a reminder to them that they were high school students, the future broad and unpredictable; there’s a reason people always say high school relationships never last.
Shouto likes to think that returning to their roots as friends hadn’t been difficult because it was a mutual decision and there weren’t any hard feelings. They hadn’t seen the point of telling anyone about their breakup when no one knew they were previously together, and even if it wouldn’t make things awkward between them, they knew their friends well enough to know that they would. They nipped it in the bud, breaking things off when things were good and steady before they’d end up doing so in less than ideal circumstances.
It hadn’t been difficult, objectively speaking. It doesn’t change the fact that every now and then Shouto would feel a notable pang in his heart when he realizes there are some things they can never do again.
“There’s a saying, you know,” Jirou tells him. “If two people can be friends despite having been together before, then it either means two things. One is that they weren’t really in love, and the other is that they never actually stopped. So if you’re not in love with Midoriya anymore, prove it by downloading Love Alarm.”
The first option makes Shouto’s insides churn uncomfortably, because he doesn’t want to believe that he was never in love with Midoriya, but he isn’t in love with Midoriya anymore.
“Fine,” he gives in, because at least this way, Jirou will stop nagging him about it once he proves her wrong.
She eyes him as if trying to figure out if he’s lying. He’s not. When she eventually comes to that conclusion, she nods, satisfied with herself. “Okay. I’ll get back to work now.” Jirou makes her way out of the booth but then turns to him at the last moment and points to him accusingly. “You better download it, okay! I better see that app logo on your phone screen tomorrow morning!”
Jirou finally leaves. Shouto decides that he’s used up his quota for social interaction for the day.
~::~
Shouto knows the real reason Jirou is insistent on him downloading Love Alarm is not because of wanting to win the bet against Kaminari, nor is it because she actually cares about his social well-being, but because she thinks the app will prove that he hasn’t gotten over Midoriya despite saying that he has.
It’s a bit irritating that she cares so much, because she’s right. Shouto has no intention of confirming it though, and in the same way Love Alarm is the best way to confirm that he does, it’s also the best way to make her believe that he doesn’t.
The thing is, Love Alarm doesn’t lie. But Shouto doesn't have to lie about his feelings when they’ll never be exposed in the first place.
After all, Midoriya doesn’t have Love Alarm.
~::~
Having Love Alarm, objectively, is not really that bad. Shouto’s still not a big fan of it, especially when it circulates in U.A. High that he downloaded the app because his phone kept on pinging incessantly within the first two days of the week. Shouto would normally pretend that his phone rings because of other things—text messages from his family, the group chat of 1A wherein Kaminari mostly sends spam, and the recent music game he downloaded out of boredom. In truth, he knows it’s none of those because (1) his family is not the texting type, (2) he muted the 1A group chat, and (3) he deleted the music game five hours after downloading it.
Besides, Love Alarm has its own distinct ring, so there’s no way for him to delude himself into thinking it’s something else.
In the end, it’s impossible to spend the two days oblivious, so he ends up in a constantly embarrassed state. It wouldn’t be that bad if the people ringing his Love Alarm felt any shame at being caught in the act.
But they don’t, so it’s just Shouto suffering.
1A is busiest only from Thursday to Saturday, but even though it’s Wednesday, Shouto meticulously prepares each of the tables two hours before the restaurant opens. It would be a good sign of diligence if not for the fact that he’s really just doing it so that he can keep himself busy. Meanwhile, the rest of his friends, who are notably not doing anything related to their job, continue to gossip amongst themselves about Shouto’s newfound but unsurprising popularity with his Love Alarm.
All of them save Shouto are crowded around the counter area as if 1A isn’t big enough for them to just occupy one of the tables in the corner and chat. Then again, they’re probably doing it out of respect for Shouto wanting to keep things as orderly as possible.
Kaminari is bemoaning for the third time about how it’s unfair that Shouto “gets all the chicks” when he isn’t even interested. Kirishima replies by saying that he’s a man among men for his accomplishment. Jirou makes a snarky comment about either one of the boy’s responses, and Midoriya will laugh along and tease them lightly, but mostly maintain his role as a listener and spectator to their charade. (Which doesn’t mean anything, Shouto tells himself, before trying to telepathically tell Jirou the same thing to wipe that scrutinizing look off her face whenever she glances at their green-haired friend.)
What’s surprising is that Bakugou, of all people, is with them, though he’s not really participating in the conversation and mostly just grunting as he stares at his phone, angrily tapping at the screen.
Shouto is familiar enough with the flow of the conversation that he has it vaguely memorized.
Then, Kirishima says, “How come you don’t have Love Alarm, Midoriya?”
The script breaks. Shouto is now completely paying attention. He swears it’s not intentional, but maybe his ears have gotten a bit too used to reacting to the sound of Midoriya’s name and his voice, because crushes are a greedy thing and Midoriya is Shouto’s first everything. He doesn’t falter in his job of wiping the plates clean, but he purposely slows his movements so he can focus on what Midoriya is going to say. It’s not eavesdropping when it’s not meant to be a private conversation. Shouto is technically part of it, as much as he acts like he doesn’t want to be involved.
He looks up just in time to see Midoriya scratch the back of his neck at the question. “It’s kind of pointless for someone like me? It’s not like anyone is going to ring my Love Alarm, after all, and it’s a waste of time feeling bad about something I’d already know even without the app.”
From the way everyone suddenly goes quiet at Midoriya’s confession, it’s evident that they didn’t expect that answer. The lightheaded and teasing atmosphere in the room is gone, replaced with something awkward and somber. Shouto can’t help but frown to himself, because Midoriya is wrong and he would ring the other’s Love Alarm.
Then he shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. He should be relieved that Midoriya doesn’t want to download Love Alarm, because that means being able to keep his feelings a secret for a little longer.
He’s always hated moments like these though, when Midoriya would beat himself down so plainly even though everyone—Shouto, out of all—holds him to high regard. What he hates more though is that as much as Shouto wants to do something, he knows he can’t without compromising something of his in return.
Half an hour before opening time, they disperse to get changed and prepare for 1A’s opening. From the corner of his eye, he catches Bakugou grab Midoriya by the shoulder to tell him something in a hushed voice.
Fifteen minutes before 1A begins business, Kaminari says, “Midoriya! You’re downloading Love Alarm! What’d Bakugou say to get you to say yes?”
“None of your business!” Bakugou yells from the kitchen, apparently having heard them.
Midoriya just laughs awkwardly. “Nothing that important.”
Shouto, who is inside the employees’ room and heard the conversation through the opened door, immediately scrambles to get his phone and deactivate his Love Alarm just in time for Midoriya’s download to be complete. Jirou is outside of 1A fixing the sign, and the rest haven’t noticed Shouto at all.
He exits the employees’ room and passes by Midoriya and Kaminari who stare at the former’s phone like nothing is amiss to head to the kitchen.
Shouto wonders if he imagined the disappointed look on Midoriya’s face when his Love Alarm shows zero.
~::~
On Friday, after school, Midoriya and Shouto find themselves alone in the local convenience store. It’s not unusual, considering that they’ve done this before, but before was when they were still dating, and they haven’t done this since then. When they’re in school, it’s fine, but outside is different.
They don’t have work at the 1A on Mondays and Fridays, and the rest of their friends have either decided to spend the remainder of the day home or out with other friends neither of the two are close with, so it was a given they drifted towards one another. Midoriya is supposed to meet up with Uraraka, but he has time to kill until then, and Shouto isn’t really in the mood to return home.
It’s not as bad as Shouto expects. Midoriya asked if he wanted to go with him just as he was exiting the campus gate before he and Uraraka would see one another. They walked down the familiar road to the corner store closest to U.A. High and where they lived. They bought food—Midoriya a hot cup of ramen, and Shouto a bag of chips—went out, and talked about everything and nothing. It’s nice.
Midoriya’s freckles are especially prominent under the sun as they eat right outside the store, and his curls bounce whenever he nods at something Shouto says. The latter pinpoints these all distantly, a poor attempt on his part to not be too attached and automatically failing, but it’s okay because he feels weightless, like being with Midoriya has caused all the exhaustion from the week’s events to leave his shoulders.
“Say,” Midoriya starts. Shouto hums noncommittally. “What happened to your Love Alarm?”
Shouto freezes. They never talk about Love Alarm when it’s just the two of them, because he’s always associated talking about Love Alarm to talking about their history, which they’ve never done since their breakup, almost as if it never happened in the first place.
He’s not good at reading Midoriya, so he doesn’t know what he’s thinking, what the other wants to hear as an answer. “Nothing,” Shouto lies. “I didn’t do anything to it.”
He deactivated it, actually. He would’ve uninstalled the app entirely, but he remembers his bet to Jirou and doesn’t think it would be fair to lie to her and pretend like he still kept it for the entire week when he hadn’t. At least she never instilled any rule that he had to keep it on, which was the major flaw in her goal to reveal his feelings. Deactivating Love Alarm means making sure you can’t ring anyone’s Love Alarm and no one can ring yours, though it’ll only last for a certain time period. It’s tedious work having to deactivate it over and over again every time there’s school or work and Midoriya is nearby, but it’s the price he has to pay to keep his feelings safe.
Midoriya frowns at his words. Shouto doesn’t understand the reason for the expression. He doesn’t have time to try though, because then Midoriya says, “I’m probably going to delete mine.”
He had it for only around two days. “Why did you even download it?” asks Shouto.
“I don’t know,” Midoriya answers. “I thought—I don’t know. I thought something would happen.”
Again, Shouto doesn’t understand. Midoriya doesn’t look like he plans on elaborating, lost in thought, and he’s about to ask, but they suddenly hear Uraraka’s honey-sweet voice call out for Midoriya. The latter bids him goodbye and quickly bounds to his friend’s side.
Shouto takes out his phone and hesitantly hovers his finger over the Activate option. He only manages to press it just as Midoriya steps out of his 10-meter orbit.
~::~
“I gotta hand it to you, Todoroki,” Jirou says the next day after 1A has closed and they’ve finished a grueling day of work. They don’t typically walk home together because Shouto stays the latest to lock up the shop, but tonight, Jirou had waited for him. “You proved me wrong.”
Shouto looks at her strangely. “What?”
“Midoriya’s Love Alarm didn’t ring,” Jirou supplies. “Even with you in the room.”
Shouto nods dumbly, feeling conflicted. He’s tempted to just leave it at that. He convinced Jirou. Midoriya doesn’t know anything. Shouto is getting everything he wanted when he agreed to this deal with her. He shouldn’t regret anything.
“It was because I deactivated it,” Shouto blurts out. Jirou, who had already been finished with the conversation and starting to walk ahead of him, stops. She slowly turns to him, eyebrows raised. “I did it because I didn’t want to admit that you were right. I’m still in love with Midoriya.”
He expects her to be mad for lying, but she looks thoughtful. “I didn’t expect you to be so honest,” she admits. “But why now, when you had the chance to do it for the whole week?”
Shouto lowers his eyes. “I’m scared of telling him.”
He feels a gentle hand rest on her shoulder. He looks up to meet Jirou’s comforting gaze. “Todoroki,” she starts. “That’s what Love Alarm is for. To convey what the heart feels when words can’t.”
~::~
The next morning, Shouto leaves the house as quietly as he can to not wake up his siblings. He departs just as the sun starts to rise on the horizon. He’s never been an early bird, but he’s awake now because he knows Midoriya likes this time best; the sun’s heat doesn’t beat down on him as he goes on his daily morning jogs.
He texts Midoriya to meet him at the convenience store. Shouto has the other’s morning jog route memorized, and it’s never changed despite the time that has passed, so he knows that it’s on the way and won’t put Midoriya out of his usual path. The store is open 24/7 but the cashier there looks half-asleep, so he waits right outside instead of killing his time trying to buy something inside, leaning on the bike rack area, and trying not to lose his nerve.
Shouto activates his Love Alarm and waits. He doesn’t know what time Midoriya will get here; he just knows that he will. It’s a bit unnerving, having to wait in such a bare state, that fear that Midoriya will walk right within his radar because Shouto wanted to see him only to see a zero on the screen, saying no one within 10-meters loves you. But turning it off and then reactivating it again after Midoriya gets here isn’t an option, because he knows he’ll pull back and chicken out.
He thinks about seeing Midoriya standing right in front of him and the screen remaining unchanged. It’s a thought that fills him with dread, but he thinks he’ll have to learn to become familiar with it. He isn’t doing this so Midoriya will return his feelings, after all. He’s doing this because—
“You deserve to know that you’ve loved,” he says quietly. “You deserve to know that I’ll always ring your Love Alarm.”
He doesn’t notice the footsteps until there’s already a shadow looming over him. Shouto startles and turns, but to his relief, it’s... Bakugou. “Bakugou? Why are you here?”
“Don’t sound so damn disappointed, half ‘n half,” Bakugou huffs. “Sometimes I join Deku in his stupid morning routines.” He looks down, just then, at Shouto’s phone, and the latter immediately presses the device close to his chest to hide the screen, even if Bakugou’s already seen it.
“I—”
“Shut up. I know why you’re here.” At Shouto’s wide-eyed bewildered expression, Bakugou scowls. “I’m his best friend. Of course I know.”
Bakugou knows. Does that mean Midoriya knows too? “Is that why he’s not here? Because he’s not coming, so he sent you instead.”
Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Like I’d ever do him a favor like that. And calm down,” he says sternly. “I went ahead ‘cause you needed to know how much of an idiot you’re being.” He reaches over to flick Shouto hard on the forehead. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just trust that stupid thing.”
Without waiting for a reply back, Bakugou walks away and resumes on his trail. Shouto watches him leave before wincing at the sting he feels on his forehead, and rubs it tenderly before closing his eyes, feeling exhausted. Even with just using a finger, Bakugou exerts too much strength.
Just trust that stupid thing. Bakugou says, as if Shouto isn’t already trying.
For what feels like a moment, he forgets that his eyes are closed and they shouldn’t be, forgets that he’s leaning on the wall of a convenience store and waiting, forgets that in his hands is his vulnerable, affectionate heart and a device that’s programmed to find someone else who shares the same level of vulnerability and affection. He forgets it all for a second and almost falls asleep, but then the resounding sound of a beep makes him snap his eyes wide open in realization.
His movements are slow and he doesn’t look down immediately, but eventually, he manages to lower his eyes to his phone screen.
A pulsing sound. One person within 10-meters loves you.
“Todoroki-kun,” someone says.
Shouto doesn’t move. He doesn’t move, but he does look up. Midoriya stands in front of him. He still hasn’t recovered from the shock of the notification. One person within 10-meters loves you.
Midoriya is holding up his phone too, wearing the same shell-shocked expression. Another pulsing sound, beating at its own pace. One person within 10-meters loves you.
"Todoroki-kun," Midoroya says again. "You—"
"I didn't expect that to happen," Shouto blurts out. "I didn't, but I wanted it to, but I realized that even if you didn't, it wouldn't have mattered because what does matter is you knowing that there is someone out there who will always love you, and that person—that's me." He clenches his fists. "But it didn't stop me from hoping anyway that mine would ring too, because I—"
"We shouldn't have broken up," Midoriya interrupts. Shouto is stunned into silence by the certainty in Midoriya’s tone. "I regretted it the moment after, but you accepted it so easily that I just thought you secretly wanted it. You wouldn't tell me how you ever really felt, but I didn't want to keep guessing forever, because what if I'd been wrong the whole time?"
"You're not."
"I know," Midoriya says. "I know now, and you do too, don't you?" He walks closer to Shouto and reaches over to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Todoroki," he starts. "I will always ring your Love Alarm. Will you ring mine too?"
It's already ringing. He almost says, but it's not like Midoriya doesn't already know that. Instead, he leans down and captures Midoriya in a sweet kiss.
The distinct sound of Love Alarm, resonating from two devices, merges into a single, heartbeat-like thrum.