Chapter Text
“Shouto.”
Todoroki’s eyes fluttered open.
They were lying in Shinsou’s bed, under Shinsou’s blanket. The room was cast in a low orange glow, lighting up Shinsou’s pale skin and indigo hair in a fiery hue.
Shinsou lay close to him, one arm tucked under the pillow that they were sharing. His half-lidded eyes were dark. He was also shirtless.
In fact, they both were.
A dream, Todoroki thought. This is a dream.
Not because they appeared to be nearly naked under the covers together, something which Todoroki was sure he’d remember experiencing, but despite being surrounded by Shinsou, he could smell nothing but the polished wood of a dojo floor.
“Shouto,” Shinsou whispered. “I love you.”
No.
“I know,” said Todoroki. “I love you too, Hitoshi.”
Not like this. I don’t want to hear it like this.
Todoroki’s body moved; he blinked, and then he was straddling Shinsou’s body. Shinsou smiled, slid his hands up Todoroki’s bare thighs. His palms were hot.
The room was hot. The air was hot.
Too hot.
“What are you going to do?” Shinsou murmured, voice husky, eyes half-lidded.
“I’m going to keep you,” Todoroki told him, and wrapped his hands around Shinsou’s throat.
His own body was a cage, trapping him in this nightmare; his unblinking eyes forcing him to watch as the lean muscles in his own arms started to tighten, as his fingers started to close.
“Don’t be afraid,” Shinsou said, like nothing was wrong, like this wasn’t all wrong. “I won’t leave you.”
Make it stop.
Todoroki’s heart was pounding out of his chest. He felt incredibly sick. He felt the intense tension in his arms like he was trying to crush the pale neck in his grip. Felt the responding feeble resistance of Shinsou’s skin and flesh and bone against his fingers.
Shinsou choked; mouth stretching open, head arching back, eyes bulging and rolling upwards, face turning a deeper red under the orange light. His hands grasped at the straining arms reaching down but didn’t try to pull them off. His choking gasps filled the room.
It was a wet, terrifying sound.
Make it stop.
“I chose you, after all,” Shinsou continued, like his air wasn’t being cut off. Like nothing was wrong. “You asked me to stay, so I will. Because I love you.”
Make it stop. It’s so hot. It’s hot. Stop.
Teardrops fell into Shinsou’s open mouth. It smelled like boiling water.
“Make me stop,” Todoroki sobbed. “Make me stop, Hitoshi, please make me stop.”
His left hand started to burn.
Then his right.
Todoroki forced himself to scream, his own voice rough and jagged, tearing at his throat.
“MAKE ME STOP!”
Shinsou was spasming, gurgling horribly; still, Todoroki heard him speak:
“You won’t let me.”
Todoroki bolted awake, thrusting his right arm out with a powerful blast of artic air; his room was freezing, with a thick cold mist that hung silently like a veil.
He didn’t scream. He couldn’t breathe enough for a scream. His stomach rolled and Todoroki slapped his right hand over his mouth it’s cold so cold and recoiled at the touch of his fingertips against his own skin, like the blood pounding beneath the thin skin of Shinsou’s neck was echoing against them.
He rolled out of bed and scrambled to the bathroom, throwing himself against the toilet. The ceramic was instantly covered in a fine layer of ice the moment his right hand touched it. His body heavily resisted the urge to throw up, and Todoroki dry-heaved, coughing and gagging until it passed.
Todoroki stood, body trembling almost violently, and washed his mouth at the sink with his left hand when his right froze the water coming out of the tap.
Then he stood, staring at the water swirling around the sink and down into the drain.
Todoroki was no stranger to nightmares. He’d have them every so often, out of the blue. As much as they would hurt each time, he had eventually learned to numb himself to them, turning his mind blank to tune out the dreams until they faded away into the background noise of his busy school days.
And although he had stopped letting himself linger on them, especially after the Sports Festival in his first year, this one simply felt far too raw; the false memory of Shinsou underneath him embedded in his chest like a barbed snowflake that had dug itself into his heart.
Dazed and unaware of the mist of ice trailing behind him, Todoroki wandered out of his bedroom, heading towards the elevator. He paused in front of Shinsou’s door.
There was no light from the gap beneath the door. No sound. No blazing heat.
Todoroki breathed out slowly and kept walking. He took the elevator to the ground floor. He knew the ride down was a short one, but it felt like an eternity spent in a blast freezer.
His ears were buzzing. Had been, since waking up. His head, full of a freezing-cold fog.
The elevator doors slid open and cold air wisped out like a rolling mist.
Outdoors, Todoroki thought. To breathe some cold air that’s not mine. Feel softer snowflakes caress him. Remember that ice wasn’t always this piercing.
“Todoroki?”
He stopped. Mind blanked.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Shinsou said, smile in his voice, coming closer. “What are you-”
Todoroki turned to look at him, heart thundering like it was about to explode. Shinsou was here.
Real. Alive. Unhurt.
Shinsou wasn’t smiling anymore. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
Body moving before he could stop it, just like the dream Todoroki grabbed Shinsou’s arm, jerking him closer, eyes trained on his neck despite himself. Shinsou made a confused noise but didn’t resist.
Just like the dream.
Under the faint glow of Shinsou’s phone, smooth, pale skin stared back, unmarred and unmarked.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Shinsou touched him, lightly skimming his fingers against Todoroki’s right arm. “Your Quirk, you’re freezing up…”
Todoroki quickly released him and backed away. His breath was short and rapid, puffs of vapour spilling with every exhale.
Yes, he wanted to say. I had a nightmare, but I’m fine. I’m used to them.
His lips trembled. Todoroki didn’t want to lie.
Not to Shinsou.
Shinsou reached out like he wanted to touch him. Hold him. Hug him. “Todoroki, please, let me help you.” He stepped forward – but Todoroki stepped back. Even though he wanted it. Wanted to be held. Wanted to be helped.
Want to keep him, nightmare-Shouto’s voice whispered nastily. Make him stay.
Stop, Todoroki thought desperately. Stop.
Then make me.
“No,” Todoroki breathed.
Shinsou didn’t chase him after that, brow furrowing in frustration, hands falling to his sides uncertainly, like he was trying to keep from entering Todoroki’s space.
Words stuck in Todoroki’s throat; they fought to crawl out when he desperately tried to swallow them back down.
Make me stop.
He had to fight this. It had just been a nightmare. He was used to those, wasn’t he?
“Shouto,” Shinsou said, pleading. “I want to help you. Tell me how to help you.”
Make me stop.
Todoroki heard his voice say it out loud.
The air stilled, becoming colder.
Before he could respond, before he could say you won’t let me, Todoroki withdrew further into the frigid fog in his head. “Need air,” he rasped. “I’m sorry.” Ripping his gaze from Shinsou’s face, Todoroki headed for the front door, leaving Shinsou behind.
Outside, Todoroki didn’t go further than the stoop of the dorm, not wanting Shinsou to follow him if he went off into the night.
The winter air was bracing and calm. Snowflakes drifted down from the cloudy sky.
Todoroki stretched out a hand to catch one. It lay on his palm, unmelting, preserved.
He breathed deeply. With every exhale, his cold breath barely vaporized, but he imagined that he was breathing out the nightmare-induced haze clouding his mind, slowly clearing his head. He thought about the snowflake in his hand. The possible shapes it might have. Maybe a triangle? A hexagon? A stellar dendrite? It would be funny if snowflakes could be shaped like snowmen. He pictured a tiny snowman falling from its birthplace in the clouds down to earth, just to be caught by a boy whose Quirk would allow it to exist, just a little longer.
The pounding of his blood in his ears ceased, and he could finally hear the silence of the snowy night sky.
Only then did he let himself think.
Shinsou. A wounded look had flashed in his eyes the moment Todoroki said ‘No’, having no way to tell that Todoroki had been talking to himself, to the dregs of his nightmare. It had been a long time since a nightmare had left him so shaken that he was reacting in fear. Longer still since he even dwelled on one, refusing to give any meaning to his bad dreams.
But then again, none had ever been like this.
What do I do now?
The door clicked open.
“Todoroki,” Aizawa said softly, voice pulling him back, like a tether to the ground.
“Aizawa-sensei…”
Aizawa walked around to stand before him. A thick blanket was thrown over his shoulder, but he was otherwise still dressed in the plain black clothing he wore in the dorms. He brought his hands up slowly, showing his intention to touch, giving Todoroki time to withdraw. When he didn’t, Aizawa laid both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes searchingly. “I’m going to use Erasure to stop your Quirk, Todoroki. Let me know that you heard me.”
“I heard you, Aizawa-sensei,” Todoroki replied. His voice sounded small to his own ears.
Aizawa nodded. His hair floated upwards, blanket following suit; his eye flashed red, and then Todoroki felt his entire being start to shiver and his lungs sting. Aizawa quickly bundled him up in the blanket and led him back inside with one arm in a gentle but firm hold around his shoulders.
Shinsou appeared, holding a steaming mug. Todoroki found himself unable to meet his eyes, dropping his gaze to the floor.
“Thank you, Shinsou. I’ll talk with Todoroki for a while.” Aizawa took the mug from him. In the ensuing silence, he added, “Why don’t you wait by the kitchen and keep watch on the stairs in case anyone else comes down.”
Shinsou must have nodded as he said nothing and walked away. Aizawa moved them to the farthest corner of the lounge, making Todoroki sit on a large, soft armchair, before settling himself down on a nearby squishy ottoman.
Todoroki couldn’t help sneaking a peek towards where Shinsou was sitting at the kitchen counter, facing the stairs and elevator; he had put his earbuds and was staring intensely at his phone, leg bouncing restlessly. Even from across half of the common room, he could see his slight pout, bottom lip jutting out, probably against his will.
Cute, Todoroki thought helplessly.
“Todoroki,” Aizawa said patiently. “You can talk to Shinsou later.”
Sheepish, he turned his head back towards his teacher in front of him. Aizawa handed him the mug. “Drink this, it’s warm milk with honey. I had Shinsou make it for you.”
“Thank you, sensei.” The milk was sweet and soothing. When he’d drank half and lowered the mug, Aizawa took it from his still-shivering hands.
“Todoroki. Can you use your Quirk to warm yourself up, at least a little? Can you do that for me?”
“Okay,” he whispered. He pushed away the smell of the dojo floor from his nightmare, and pulled out Midoriya’s voice telling him, it’s your Quirk, isn’t it?
Just a hint of activation. Like a space heater on low. He let the warmth run through his body, felt his calming blood circulate the heat from his left side. Aizawa sat quietly, said nothing, completely still. When he stopped shivering and his breathing was easier, Todoroki unwrapped the blanket from around himself, and Aizawa gave him back the mug of milk.
It was made by Shinsou, so Todoroki finished it immediately, not wanting it to go cold.
“How are you feeling?”
Todoroki looked down into the empty mug. There was a bit of honey left at the bottom. He resisted the urge to try and lick it. “Better.”
“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”
“A little,” he admitted. “But I don’t – I don’t want to…” Describe it.Explain it. Say it out loud. Talk about it.
Aizawa seemed to understand, somehow. He carefully probed, “Was it… about your father?”
Todoroki had given Aizawa a fairly abridged, but slightly more detailed than his most of his classmates, explanation of his upbringing. Todoroki didn’t know what Aizawa might have already known, if he even had a way of knowing, given how everything had been hidden from the public; it happened not long after the events that led to Aizawa losing his eye and leg. Todoroki had just told him one day, and Aizawa had listened, face impassive. Afterwards, Aizawa thanked him for trusting him. Said that he was always open to talk, if he ever needed it.
Todoroki never mentioned that he had been left terrified of losing Aizawa after seeing him unconscious and blood-soaked. A similar terror, in the strangest of ways, to when he watched Endeavor’s close victory against the High-End, broadcasted live.
He hadn’t told Aizawa about the nightmares he would suffer from his father’s abuse, but the implications were only too obvious. Pretty much any nightmare of his could be traced back to that – the most recent one included. “A little.”
When Aizawa spoke again his voice was even softer. “Shinsou?”
Todoroki nodded.
Despite basically no ‘talking’ at all, Aizawa seemed to have heard enough, and after a moment asked, “Will you listen to me for a while?”
He nodded again, grateful.
Aizawa drew a deep, slow breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, linking his fingers together loosely. “When I was younger, I used to have a recurring dream… more a nightmare, really. It always started the same way. I’d be in a fight, needed to use my Quirk, because I needed to save someone, to fight back, to support other heroes. But then I’d – someone would get caught up in my Erasure. I would accidentally erase a Pro’s Quirk, and they get hurt, or die. Because of me.”
His fingers tightened.
“After I met Yamada and O- my friends, not that I had very many. I’d always end up getting in their way.” Aizawa’s voice became softer, lower, more hesitant. “And when we… started dating, the nightmare pretty much became the same. I would accidentally erase Mic’s Quirk. And I’d watch him die.”
Todoroki’s throat hurt. His heart hurt. But he focused on Aizawa’s gravelly voice, slowly breathing away the tears threatening to break out.
“I kept it to myself. For as long as I could, I refused to tell him about it, because I knew it was just a nightmare. I mastered my Quirk, I would never let that happen. But every time I had the nightmare, I’d withdraw into myself while trying to stay quiet. Like you did, just now.” Aizawa let out a small breath, but it sounded incredibly heavy. “Being who he is, he got it out of me, eventually. I didn’t think it would help for him to know, but it just did. And I suppose that’s applied to a lot of things in life.”
“Do you still have that nightmare?”
“No. Not for a long time.” Aizawa was pensive. Todoroki felt that he now had a great variety of other nightmares, likely involving his students which he’d never tell any of them about. “Well, I’m not saying you need to tell Shinsou. But if you’re afraid, you have to remember that in a healthy relationship of any kind, you’re not alone.”
Healthy relationship.
“I,” Todoroki started, then faltered.
Aizawa just watched him quietly.
“I know it’s just a nightmare,” he said at last. And maybe it was the late hour, maybe it was the tenderness in Aizawa’s eye, maybe it was Shinsou waiting, maybe it was the warm honey milk settling in Todoroki’s stomach, maybe it was something he’d been trying to deny since waking up. Something he’d kept buried away under layers of ice and magma since the first time he’d kissed Shinsou and knew what he wanted for the rest of his life. “But I’m afraid that I’ll become like my father, lost in his obsession. And I’ll hurt Hitoshi, trying to keep him when – if he ever wants to leave.”
Todoroki choked on the last word. Tears spilled over, hot on his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut, clutching his chest, trying to swallow his sobs; Aizawa touched his arms lightly, questioningly. He nodded and let himself be pulled into Aizawa’s hug; face pressed into his shoulder.
He wondered if his tears ran in different temperatures.
Aizawa held him as he cried silently, one hand on the back of his head, the other lightly rubbing his back. His hold was loose enough to allow Todoroki to pull away whenever he wanted, but firm enough to feel reassuring. Soothing.
It almost hurt more, because the last time he received a hug like this was from his mother when he was barely five.
“Todoroki.” Aizawa’s voice was incredibly gentle. “I’ve watched your progress since you applied to UA, and you’ve grown so much since then. You’ve already become so kind and strong, unwavering and determined. You have nothing to fear. You will not become like your father. You will become Todoroki Shouto – the hero you decide to be. That much, I'm sure of.”
Todoroki almost laughed, though it came out as a strangled sob. “My mother said the same thing.”
“Good.” Aizawa’s hold tightened, just a bit. “That’s good.”
Todoroki caved. He shyly wrapped his arms around Aizawa’s strong back and pressed his face into his shoulder for a little longer.
“Sensei,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
Thank you for protecting us.
Thank you for surviving.
Thank you for being alive.
Aizawa patted his hair softly in response. Todoroki let go and pulled away, sniffling; Aizawa handed him a tissue box and got to his feet, clearly wanting to avoid Todoroki’s apology for his damp shoulder. But he lingered while Todoroki dried his face. “Are you feeling better?”
“Yes.”
Aizawa nodded towards Shinsou. “Off you go, then. Don’t forget to drink some water before you sleep. And I’m always here if you need me.”
“Thank you.”
Aizawa gave him a tiny, soft smile. “Good night, Todoroki.”
“Good night, Aizawa-sensei.” He crumpled up his wet tissues in his right hand as he approached Shinsou, who was still absorbed in his phone, still facing the stairs. His leg still had a mild jitter.
“Shinsou.”
He turned to look at Todoroki, taking in his flushed face and nervous hands, and took out his earbuds. “Is everything okay?”
Todoroki nodded.
Shinsou hesitated.
Knowing what he wanted but was too anxious to ask, Todoroki said, “I want to hug you.”
Shinsou blushed. “Oh. Of course.” He slid off his seat and slipped his arms around Todoroki after casting a glance at Aizawa’s direction (who had vanished, along with the mug Shinsou had made the warm drink in).
“I’m sorry. I was abrupt with you earlier. Is your arm okay?”
“I’m fine, it was just cold for a bit.” Shinsou pulled away, squaring his shoulders. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I didn’t know what to do, so I called Aizawa-sensei, because I was worried that you would get sick from the cold. I know you asked me to – make you stop. But I didn’t want to use my Quirk on you.”
Todoroki blinked. “You… didn’t want to?”
Shinsou nodded, guilt written across his face. “I knew it would stop your Quirk, but I was. I was worried. It wasn’t exactly an emergency like Midoriya’s Blackwhip thing, even though you weren’t really… fine. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“I – huh?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Shinsou was perplexed. “Huh?”
Cute. Todoroki smiled. Shinsou flushed coyly. “I want to kiss you, Hitoshi.”
“God,” Shinsou whispered to himself.
“No, I’m Shouto.”
Todoroki laughed as Shinsou grabbed his face and kissed him aggressively to shut him up. It was a different comfort than Aizawa’s, but being in Shinsou’s embrace felt soothing and so right.
“Stop distracting me with your pretty face,” Shinsou complained against his lips. “I want to hear about your nightmare if you want to tell me. Or how I could help you next time.”
“I’ll tell you.” Even though it wouldn’t be easy, Todoroki had a feeling it wasn’t going to be as painful to recount it anymore. “Can we go to your room?”
“Are you sure? You don’t want to be in a more familiar place?”
Todoroki thought about how his room was probably colder than the winter night outside. “I’m sure. Besides, your room is a familiar place to me too.”
Shinsou snatched his hand and pulled him towards the elevator, his neck visibly flushed even in the low lighting. “Tomorrow,” he said, not looking at Todoroki, “or, well, later today, I suppose. Let’s – let’s go on a date.”
“Alright.”
“I’ll make you happy,” Shinsou murmured, almost to himself.
Todoroki smiled, his heart feeling warm and full.
You already do.