Archive of Our Own ^beta

As the last evening rays of sun filtered through the large windows, Shouto Todoroki stared over the crowded hall, looking at the sea of masked faces from his father’s side. He knew he was supposed to be focused on the nobles his father was talking to, but they were no different than the hundred other nobles he was going to be forced to greet tonight, and he wanted to save his energy. Hell, he didn’t want to be here at all. If he had a choice, he would take the carriage back to the castle so he could sleep in his stupid room and take off his stupid mask.

As if rebelling against the sentiment, the mask began itching coarsely where it covered the raised, bumpy skin over his left eye, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable it was, it was a necessity, and not just because of the masquerade. You would expect him to be used to the mask by now, but it was still just as uncomfortable to his marred face as when he first donned it. Whenever polite company was present, on the mask went. Given that even his father was considered “polite company”, the mask spent more time on his face than off it. 

It never stopped being uncomfortable.

Shouto sighed as his father grabbed him, steering them towards another pair of guests, one of which was a girl who looked around his age. His father introduced him first, a sign that she was one of the girls Shouto was expected to try to win over.

That was the only reason he was permitted to come, of course. Why else would he ever need to attend a diplomatic ball? The room was full to the brim with various people his father considered “acceptable”, most of whom had been instructed to win his affection in various ways. He was only permitted to reciprocate the attempts of the girls his father directly introduced him to. 

Despite what his father wanted, there was no way he would end up falling for any of the girls in the room. There was nothing he could want from them.

He knew exactly what his father wanted him to do. He was expected to make a beeline across the room, head towards the girls whose marriage would most benefit the country most. There were a few girls who fell into this category with his father, most of which were princesses next-in-line for their neighbouring countries. He was then expected to woo them, make them feel special. His father would then pick the most lucrative for him to further pursue. All “further pursue” meant was that Shouto would be brought to the next ball the girl was attending, and that an arrangement would be made between both parental parties for marriage.

Love was not in the instruction, or in his father’s desires. Royalty was too tidy for love.

He could hear his old man gruffly greeting another of the many guests as he went over the plan in his head. Mingle for a little, fake interest, excuse himself, hide until the party’s over. Another benefit of the masked ball - it’s much harder to pick out distinct people. This means it will take much longer for his old man to notice he has gone. He isn’t going to bother trying to seduce any of the girls, it wouldn’t work anyway. 

After all, nobody wants a broken prince.

And he is broken, in more ways than one. There’s the obvious, the visual. The large scar over his left eye, the one his mask so expertly covers. The scars littering his back, the scars littering his body. Each covered up with cloth, masks and tears.

Then there’s the less obvious. The weakness he hides, the tears shed in the dead of night when he is too tired to stop them anymore. The weakness he shows, when he yields in training, when he just doesn’t want to fight.

He would never survive outside the walls of the castle. 

He knows this, yet he still wishes to leave them.

Shouto was pulled violently from his train of thought by his father’s hand landing roughly on his shoulder. 

“I hope you enjoy the ball,” He told the pair mechanically. They smiled at him their fake smiles and walked away, into the crowd. 

His father pulled him towards another pair of guests, and Shouto went back to absently surveying the room. 

***

The size of the ballroom was a shock.

Izuku Midoriya knew that the room was big - he’d spent enough time dusting it while it lay unused - but he had expected it to feel smaller when filled with nobles and royalty. 

If anything, it felt larger.

Izuku hadn’t been working in the castle for long - no more than a few months - so this was the first big event he had been around to serve for. It was exciting, but also terrifying. He had heard of the brutality of the events, of the insane lay-off rates - if you made even one misstep, you were gone, no matter what your position was in the castle. If you stepped the wrong way by so much as a single toe, you were out. 

It was exhilarating.

Izuku pulled on the collar of his shirt, tight around his neck. None of the service uniforms the palace had offered him fit at all, so he ended up putting together the nearest thing he could find. The shirt was from his usual work uniform, the jacket made by borrowing some scrap material from the seamstress and sewing one for himself. He didn’t have a pattern to work from so it wasn’t quite the same as the others, and his material was slightly more green than the velvet of the real jackets, but he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much. It’s not like anyone would notice the subtle difference. Nobody glanced twice at the servants anyway, not unless they messed up, and he wasn’t going to mess up.

The mask on his face was, of course, the plain black ones issued to all the servers at the ball. It was surprisingly soft, and fit flush to his face, almost as if it had been made for him. 

Though he was just a servant, he still felt underdressed among the fancy clothing of the guests. Their dresses glimmered under the light of the chandelier, their suits shimmered under the moonlight flowing in through the window. His own clothes were practically rags in comparison. 

Izuku shook his head, dispelling his thoughts. He was a servant, of course his clothes weren't grand. It just made sense. The high class wear fancy clothes, the low wear those thrown together. That is the way of the world, of life, here and everywhere. The gap between lower and upper would always be there, Izuku just had to live with it.

At least his job was one near the dance floor. He knew a lot of the servants had been drafted into the kitchens to help the cooks with the absurd amount of food the event required. Luckily, Kacchan knew he was more likely to burn the food than do anything useful, so he had convinced the head cook to place him as a server instead. As much as Kacchan insisted he hated him, he always had his back when it really came down to it, like a grumpy older sibling. He’d been worse when they were younger, much worse, but he grew out of it eventually. Not that it didn’t still hurt Izuku sometimes, that they had used to be that way, but his only pains now are phantom, remnants of days past.

Speaking of his job, the head server would have his head if he didn’t grab his tray and begin working soon. Izuku walked through the doors to the kitchen and grabbed the nearest platter of drinks. He could hear Kacchan yelling at the other cooks, and he knew tonight would go okay. The team would make sure of it. 

Filled anew with confidence, he took his platter and exited through the doors, back towards the dance floor. 

***

Izuku felt like he was going to fall over. He’d been serving for who knows how long, and technically they weren’t meant to have breaks, but he knew passing out in the presence of the nobles would guarantee his lay-off, so he didn’t have much choice. 

He needed air.

Weaving between the guests, he made a beeline to the open door which led out onto the balcony. It was empty, as he had hoped it would be. Leaning his empty platter against the ornate stone boundary, he cast his eyes over the garden. Each long path was lit with lanterns, hanging from both the overhead trellises and the branches of the trees. It was a shame it was being wasted - nobles were always very picky, and the night air was a little brisk for most people. He liked it, though. The cold of the gentle breeze was just perfect to wake him up, a refreshing contrast from the stuffy heat of the ballroom.

Izuku closed his eyes and breathed.

He was startled out of his trance by the sound of footsteps. Someone had joined him on the balcony.

Izuku turned and the breath he had worked so hard to regain was immediately stolen away from him.

There was a boy, about his age, looking down at the garden. His hair was split down the middle, half white as cold as ice, half red as a burning flame His skin was snowy and clear, and his clothing spoke of immense wealth. His mask was silver, with flowing silky spirals embellishing his already beautiful, kaleidoscopic eyes. His eyes…

His eyes looked sad. Empty, yet full. Each was a different colour, drawing him in, telling him to think. To solve the mystery that was Todoroki Shouto.

Izuku knew his name. Of course he did.

This boy was beautiful, powerful, and most definitely off-limits.

Izuku wanted to get closer.

***

The ballroom was suffocating.

Per his father’s instructions, Shouto had spent virtually the entire time since the masquerade started being flirted with by various girls. He could tell which of them his father would like most, but he couldn’t bring himself to form a personal opinion on most of them. They were all fake girls anyway. Fake girls with fake smiles, trying to woo a prince they didn’t even know. 

It made him sick. Each of them treating him like a trophy to be won, acting how they think he wants them to. Every girl looked the same - a mask on her face, a shiny dress, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

He didn’t want to be here.

He excused himself from the girl he was with and headed to the first door he saw.

He was met with a balcony, and a view filled with forgotten dreams.

A garden. There were paths running down either side, and one through the middle, the paper lanterns lighting the area with a passive glow. The stars glistening above shone in the sky, watching, protecting. The trees the perfect frame, the flowers the perfect picture.

It reminded him of the castle’s garden, back when he was younger, when the world was a happier place. 

It reminded him of running through the foliage with his brothers, playing games of knights and princesses and dragons, the days before he knew knights failed, princesses died, and dragons birthed princes unworthy of love. 

It reminded him of his sister, teaching him to make chained loops of daisies, the days before he knew all crowns were made from weeds.

It reminded him of his mother.

The days before he knew she was gone.

He was too wrapped up in the memories of a time long forgotten to realise he wasn’t alone.

If he had turned his head just a little to the side, he would have seen a boy, eyes filled with sympathy and stars. 

A boy filled with hope and a wish to help.

But he didn’t see.

Instead, he remembered.

***

“I’m sorry, uh...” Izuku watched as the duel-coloured boy in front of him startled, then turned towards him, a questioning look on his face.

Izuku knew exactly what he should say. He should tell him that he’s sorry, but the balcony is off limits, that he should go back inside to enjoy the ball. But Izuku saw him, looking down at the trees.

His eyes were filled with stars. 

He looked… free.

How could Izuku possibly take that away?

“I can take you there.” 

The words fell from his mouth faster than he could stop them, his mind immediately going into overdrive. Why had he said that? He was meant to be serving, he had a job to do, he couldn’t spend time gallivanting through the garden with a prince, of all things. Kacchan would kill him, he could lose his position at the castle, everything was at risk-

“Please,”

And, just like that, Izuku forgot everything about his responsibilities.

He wanted nothing more than this.

He’d have to be careful, though. If anyone saw him, he could kiss his job goodbye.

He found that it didn’t scare him nearly as much as it should have.

A subtle smile on his face, he beckoned the boy forward.

***

Shouto followed the green-haired boy through countless doors, up and down staircases - hell, he’s pretty sure they passed through the seamstress’ quarters at one point. He was half expecting the boy to turn on him, a spy or an assassin hired to lure him away, but he didn’t think that was quite it. He seemed... too sincere. Too kind. 

After a long walk, he was finally greeted with the garden, a wave of calm washing over him. 

Without thinking, he kicked off his tight dress-shoes and stepped onto the grass, the velveteen blades soft against the soles of his feet.

“Wow… the stars really are beautiful tonight.”

Unbeknownst to him, his emerald companion had come right up to Todoroki’s side, their hands brushing as he came to stand with him in the grass. Looking up, he saw that the freckled boy was right.

The sky was clearer here than on the balcony, and seeing the specks of silver light clearly contrast against the dark night backdrop gave him a feeling he couldn’t quite assess. 

At least, he assumed it was the stars.

“What’s your name?” Shouto asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him. He knew the boy wasn’t of his own kingdom, and there were a few different kingdoms being represented at the ball whose nobility he wasn’t too familiar with. The boy was still staring up at the sky, transfixed. The light glinted in his viridian eyes, his hair shimmering under the light of the stars. He seemed to be deep in thought, giving his name without really thinking.

“Deku.”

It wasn’t the title that Todoroki was expecting to be given - most flaunted themselves at every available moment, bragging about their high status and acres of land - but that didn’t matter to him anyway. It never had.

“Deku.” The name rolled off of Todoroki’s tongue, falling from his lips before he could think any better of it. “I...Thank you for walking me down here. I appreciate it.” The boy let out an indistinct mutter, but was still focused on the shine of the stars above.

“Would you take me round the rest of the garden?”

That caught his attention. Green eyes met mismatched ones, and even if they didn’t know it yet, an understanding passed between them. Todoroki let loose a small smile, the first genuine one he had expressed all night. The jade boy smiled back, a bright smile which shone through the darkness of the sky above, warming the chilling breeze, a campfire among snow.

This was their garden.

This was their night.

***

While they walked, it was as if the rest of the world wasn’t there.

They wandered through the garden aimlessly, talking of whatever they felt like talking about, of everything and nothing. It was… easy, in a way Shouto had never felt before. Usually, conversations felt like minefields - simple in principle, but one false move and it was over. 

Talking with Deku didn’t feel like that.

Speaking to Deku felt safe, soft. It filled him with a feeling of warmth which covered him from head to toe, thawing him from the inside out. 

It felt… good.

“Hey, uh, Todoroki?” Deku sounded hesitant, yet determined. “I… I want to show you something.”

Shouto looked up at him, at the light blush dancing over his freckles, and nodded. Deku held out his hand, a silent invitation, waiting, calling. 

Calling for the prince to trust him.

The warm feeling crackled inside of him once again, and Shouto barely hesitated before putting his hand in the boy’s own. 

He was quickly pulled further into the foliage by the green-haired boy, dragged down twisting paths and past blossoming trees, moving deeper and deeper into the garden, further and further away from status and expectation. Any doubt he felt was erased by the smile on the shorter boy’s face, the green of his hair as it was blown in the wind, the subtle spark of life in his eyes.

For the first time in Todoroki’s life, he felt free.

They swiftly arrived, stopping in front of an aged wooden gate. Deku smiled softly at him, pushing it open with a creak.

Shouto was met with a sight full of dreams.

The area was unkempt, unweeded, but that simply added to its beauty. The ivy climbed the untrimmed trees, briars lined the hedgerows. In the center, a large, moss-covered stone pond-fountain. The water lay stagnant, clearly reflecting the infinite star-spotted sky, each constellation glistening in the crystalline stillness.

It was quiet.

It truly felt like nobody would ever find them.

“Deku.” 

The boy, now sitting on the fountain edge, looked up, his eyes glistening in the pale moonlight. “Yes?”

“You’re… not a noble, are you?” 

The servant flushed, casting his eyes towards the ground, the shimmer of life dimming to a soft sheen. 

Todoroki ached, though he couldn’t say why.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay.”

“You… you aren’t mad?” The smaller boy’s green hair trembled, still not taking his gaze from the floor. The prince narrowed his eyes curiously.

“Why would I be? Titles don’t mean anything.” He let out a low, cynical chuckle. “A title doesn’t make a good person any more than a king makes a good father.” 

The prince watched as his companion loosened, the tenseness leaving his shoulders, as he brought his legs to his chest, turning so he could see the fountain’s reflection of the night sky. The scarred boy gently smiled to himself as he sat opposite, looking down at the darkness speckled with glistening light.

With that, the pair were lulled into a comfortable, comforting silence. They watched the soft ripples of the wind across the water, staring down into the night’s gaze as the night stared back.

In the clear water of the pond, they locked eyes.

It was only for a second, but…

Shouto knew.

He knew he wanted nothing more than to stay here forever, with the green boy in the green garden.

He felt as Deku took his hands.

He looked up.

Moving closer, slowly, surely.

Under the light of the stars, Todoroki leaned in and closed his eyes.

Colors exploded through his brain, a melody sang through his heart.

The boy was warm, safe.

He was flying, flying.

And then his dream came crashing down.

***

Slowly, the prince pulled away and the moonlight began to dim.

They stared down at the pond.

Even without seeing the heir’s face, Izuku knew the boy was crying. His tears sullied the clear waters of the pond below, rippling the sky above. 

“Deku… I’m sorry, I… I can’t.” 

The prince’s voice wavered. 

“I should go.” 

Izuku stayed silent, watching the boy’s back as he left. It wasn’t until the prince’s footsteps had completely faded away that the gravity of the situation had dawned on Izuku.

He had kissed the prince, the heir to the Todoroki throne.

And then the prince had left him.

He knew it was stupid, a stupid thing to cry over. He wasn’t a noble, he had no land, he hadn’t even told the prince his real name. 

He never had a chance to begin with. 

He wept anyway.

He looked back down at the pond, the reflection of the sky now overcast with clouds. His tears of what would never be caused fractures across the tranquil scene, his sorrows becoming one with the stars as the first drops of an oncoming rainstorm began to fall overhead.

He sat alone, in the garden he had shared, and cried.

***

The prince’s feet led him back to the ballroom.

He stood in front of pretty women.

They talked. He watched. 

He tried to ignore, he tried to forget what he had seen, what he had felt, that feeling of freedom, of flight.

He must forget, for it would never truly be his.

His mind was blank until he arrived back at the castle. His father had talked endlessly on the journey, but he hadn’t been listening, too caught up in his own head, too busy knowing that what he felt there, in the garden, was forever unattainable.

As the sound of the horse’s hooves ceased, the prince rose to his feet, stepping down from the carriage without so much as a glance the king’s way. He could hear the shout of his name from behind, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

He arrived in his room, and finally, he was alone. He slowly slipped his mask from his face, exposing his (awful, ugly, unsightly ) scar for no one to see. He sat down, putting his hand on his heart, beating both faster and slower. He knew he should let it go, forget the boy ever existed. Forget about the pond, the garden, the stars… but he knew, he never would forget, just like his memories of before.

How he still remembered that day with Natsuo where they played hide and seek. How he still remembered that day Touya taught him to braid Fuyumi’s hair. How he still remembered that day when his mother cared.

No matter how much he tried, he would never be able to forget the things he loved.

Even after they all forgot him.

Shouto sat alone in the room, the cold embracing him, and cried.