#ghostnamedcasey

It’s a strange feeling, returning home after a long journey, especially when said journey involves taking down the Demon King with a ragtag group of adventurers. But of course, all stories must come to an end, and with endings come goodbyes.

That same group stands atop a grassy cliff overhanging a glistening lake, across which lies the castle of the kingdom of Endeavor. A gentle breeze sweeps over, carrying a faint scent of flowers and nostalgia; it was only a month ago that Midoriya and friends encountered a lonely prince on this same cliff, requesting that he join them on their quest to defeat the Demon King, and yet it feels like they’ve known each other for years. Uraraka gives Prince Shouto one last squeeze before releasing him to let Sir Iida help him up onto his horse. (Bakugou and Kirishima had already departed the day before, heading to the Valley of Dragons.) Midoriya is strangely silent, perhaps holding back tears. He’s always been rather weepy.

“Well then, I’m off,” the prince announces and tugs on his horse’s reins. He casts one last glance back at his new friends, ignoring the not-so-slight pang in his heart when his eyes don’t catch emerald.

Shouto and his horse only make it as far as the beginning of the dirt road before he hears the shuffling of grass and a desperate (yet oh-so-sweet) voice crying out, “Wait!”

The horse rears back a bit as Shouto pulls hard to stop, and they turn to watch as Midoriya nearly trips over a knot of grass in his mad dash to catch the prince.

“Midoriya, what —?”

“I forgot to give you something,” Midoriya gasps as he quickly rights himself. He mutters something under his breath and sprinkles a handful of pink powder around his feet, and Shouto only has time to comprehend that this must have been Uraraka’s idea before the sight of emerald has him falling, falling.

Midoriya’s lips are just as soft as Shouto never dared to dream they’d be.

The kiss seems to last until forever and yet it still ends too soon. Midoriya’s hands are still cupping Shouto’s cheek and buried in his hair, and Shouto’s own hand is draped around Midoriya’s waist (“for balance,” he lies to himself). The glitter of Uraraka’s magic powder fades away as Midoriya floats gently to the ground, taking Shouto’s hand into his own.

“Safe travels, my prince.” Midoriya presses his lips against Shouto’s knuckles, lingering for just a beat longer than etiquette allows. The bright blush across his freckled cheeks is a breathtaking complement to his green eyes, which sparkle with undisguised adoration.