Chapter Text
Shouto’s heart is beating frantically in his chest.
It’s just past curfew, and he’s headed to Izuku’s room. School had seemed to stretch on forever today, but that was almost certainly because all Shouto could think about was what he intended to do at the end of it. Maybe he could have done this earlier, but his nerves whispered sweetly to him that surely, it could wait until Izuku would definitely be alone in the evening.
He opted for the stairs rather than the elevator, and he takes a deep breath before he exits the stairwell onto the second floor.
Then he pauses in surprise, as the first thing he sees is Uraraka lurking in the hallway.
Shouto approaches, and upon closer inspection she appears quite anxious, looking periodically down at her phone in her hand. She’s standing in front of Izuku’s door.
“Uraraka?”
“Eep!!” She audibly startles, dropping her phone. Shouto blinks at her. “T-todoroki-kun!! What are you doing here??”
“I wanted to talk to Izuku,” Shouto says, gesturing towards his door. “What about you?”
“Aaah, so did I, but...” she bites her lip, finally bending down to pick up her phone. “He’s not answering.”
Oh. Hm. “Did you check downstairs?” If she hasn’t, the common area is where he’d look next. It’s past curfew, so unless Izuku is once again flagrantly breaking school rules—which Shouto doubts—he has to be somewhere in the building.
“Yes, but he wasn’t there...”
Shouto hums. “Maybe he’s taking a bath? I could go check.” The men’s baths would be the one place Uraraka couldn’t have looked, after all.
“Oh, would you??” She says, relieved.
He nods, gives her a wave, and heads back to the stairwell. Idly, he wonders what Uraraka wanted to talk to Izuku about. His plans are getting completely derailed. But that’s fine; Shouto can be flexible.
Shouto pokes his head into the men’s bath, but finds only Shouji. He briefly asks Shouji if he’s seen Izuku, but of course he hasn’t. He even checks the laundry room and double-checks the kitchen and common area, but no dice. So he returns to Uraraka empty handed.
“He’s not downstairs.”
Uraraka starts to pace. “And he’s not answering any of my texts either...”
Shouto knocks on Izuku’s door himself. Both he and Uraraka wait, but there’s no answer. “Izuku?” He calls out. No answer to that either. Shouto clicks his tongue.
“He could just be in someone else’s room,” he points out.
“Maybe? I thought he might just be sleeping, but...”
Shouto shakes his head. “He could be. But he rarely sleeps this early. He keeps such odd hours.”
“I don’t know. He seemed a little tired today, is all,” Uraraka mentions. “Honestly, I’ve been a little worried all day. He barely ate anything for breakfast, though he had more at lunch I guess. I have no idea if he had dinner, and I wanted to bring him a snack or something in case he forgot again.” She pulls out some protein bars from her pocket.
Shit. Had Izuku been off today? Shouto had been so absorbed in his own thoughts, he hadn’t been paying attention. Damn it.
“Let me try something.” He pulls out his phone and just calls him outright. Izuku can sometimes forget to look at texts, but surely he’ll answer a phone call? If Izuku is sleeping and this wakes him, Shouto will feel a little bad, but he can just go back to sleep after.
Shouto and Uraraka look at each other as the muffled but distinct sound of Izuku’s All Might themed ringtone can be heard faintly from the other side of the door. It rings without interruption until Shouto is redirected to voicemail.
Izuku could still be with someone else. Though it’s very unlikely that he would forget his phone. And he could still be sleeping—perhaps he’s sleeping so deeply that his phone didn’t wake him. But that’s also unlikely.
“...Aaah, I can’t stand this!!” Uraraka groans, looking about as worried as Shouto feels. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”
Shouto shakes his head. “Whatever way you look at it, this is weird.”
“Are we being too nosy, though?” She bites her lip. “Everyone has off days...”
He doesn’t point out that Izuku tends to have more off days than most. “If this were anyone else, I’d say we could leave it be. But since it’s Izuku...”
Uraraka nods decisively. “Okay. That does it!” She turns and marches over to Aoyama’s room next door, and knocks firmly. “Aoyama-kun?? Are you awake?”
After a moment, Aoyama opens his door, striking an unnecessary pose. He’s in pajamas, complete with a hat and everything.
“Bonjour!!” He says, winking. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Do you know what’s going on with Izuku?” Shouto asks without preamble.
Aoyama quirks his head to the side, poking his head into the hall to peer at Izuku’s door. “Last I saw he turned in a bit early, non?”
“Can we use your balcony to hop to Deku-kun’s?” Uraraka asks. Shouto blinks at her. That was her plan?
Aoyama looks more than a little surprised at that. “Is something the matter?”
“I don’t know!! I’m just getting really worried. His phone is in his room but he’s not answering no matter what we do.”
After a moment to ponder this, Aoyama steps aside to let them in. Uraraka pushes past without hesitation, and Shouto follows, giving Aoyama a nod of thanks. He trails anxiously behind them.
Uraraka opens the door to Aoyama’s balcony, and shivers as the brisk winter air hits her. Even Shouto can tell it’s freezing out, and Uraraka’s night clothes are very thin. Aoyama shivers, too.
A cog, somewhere in the back of Shouto’s brain, slowly starts to turn.
The two of them use Uraraka’s quirk to safely and easily jump to Izuku’s balcony. His curtains are drawn, so they can’t immediately tell anything just by looking. Uraraka tries the door, and thankfully, it isn’t locked.
Shouto pulls the curtains aside, and...
There Izuku is. Lying in bed, and staring at them with wide, wet eyes.
“Deku-kun!!” Uraraka shouts, mostly relieved but also irritated and confused. “You’ve been here the whole time?! Why didn’t you answer?!”
“I...” Izuku croaks.
Shouto frowns, entering the room properly. There is Izuku’s phone, right on his nightstand. Something is off. Why didn’t he answer? Did the phone call just wake him up, and he’s still groggy? No. He’s clearly been crying—is still crying, sluggishly. Was he crying in his sleep? No. No, something is off. Something is off.
“What’s wrong??” Uraraka says, rubbing her arms as she shivers. “We’ve been worried sick!”
Izuku also appears to be shivering. Or. No. Wait. It’s just his arms that are...
Oh.
“Uraraka,” Shouto says firmly. “Close the door, we’re letting the chill in.”
She blinks at him, but complies. Izuku’s arms continue to tremble, and isn’t it weird that he hasn’t even made an attempt to sit up since they entered? He hasn’t moved, and has barely said anything.
Shouto activates his left side to start pumping heat back into the room quickly, and kneels next to Izuku’s bed. “Izuku? Your hands. You arms? Are you in pain?”
After a moment, Izuku nods slowly, tears quietly trickling down his cheeks.
Uraraka gasps lightly as the pieces of the puzzle begin to slot together. It’s freezing out right now. Today was likely the coldest it’s been all winter. Shouto wasn’t thinking— he wasn’t paying attention while Izuku probably suffered all day. Damn it!!
“I thought I told you not to let it get this bad again without saying anything,” Shouto says. His intention is to scold, but his voice wavers, heavy with guilt. He reaches out with his left hand to cover Izuku’s right, pushing heat into his skin. Izuku whimpers. “Is this okay?” He asks.
Izuku nods again. “I...I-im sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Shouto says. “Just let us help you. Are you...having trouble speaking?”
“Y-yeah...” Izuku mutters. “I. It’s just. H-hard to...um...” he lapses for a full ten seconds, eyes squeezing shut. “...C-concentrate?”
Uraraka covers her mouth in shock. “Oh, Deku-kun... It’s that bad? Has it been that bad all day?”
“N-no,” Izuku says. “Kind of in...the morning but...I-I had my um. G-gloves? The...that Yaoyorozu-san made for me. It helped. I-in class. But after lunch...”
Shouto can guess. After lunch, they went outside for basic training. They have their winter costumes, but Izuku’s gloves were built primarily for bracing his arms, not insulation. “Izuku, that still doesn’t explain why you didn’t say anything.”
Izuku starts crying a bit more heavily. “I’m sorry. I-i’m sorry. It just...s-snuck up on me and...it’s...it’s never been this bad and I can’t...” he sobs. “I can’t move!”
Shouto swallows. He stands from where he’s been kneeling, thinking. “I-I couldn’t answer the...the door, and I can’t...hold...m-my phone and when you knocked I...I s-should have...b-but I just...I panicked...!”
“Did you take any painkillers?” Uraraka asks.
“I...” Izuku lapses again. “I took some...ibuprofen, earlier but...it hasn’t really...”
Shouto leans over, and gently gets his hand under Izuku’s shoulders. “I’m going to help you sit up, okay?”
“Okay...”
Gently, so so gently, Shouto eases Izuku into a sitting position. Uraraka adjusts Izuku’s pillows so his back can be better supported, while Shouto sits on Izuku’s bed and pulls him into a hug. Both for comfort, and so he can more fully feel the heat coming from his left side. Izuku sobs into his shoulder.
“Is this helping at all?” Shouto asks, carefully running his left hand up and down Izuku’s right arm. The room has also gotten much warmer in general.
“A little...?” Izuku mumbles. Shouto’s chest pangs. Normally the warmth helps more than this. Is it...not going to work this time?
Not that he’s going to stop trying.
“I’m going to get Aizawa-sensei,” Uraraka announces, marching towards the front door. Izuku stiffens.
“W-what? No!”
Both Shouto and Uraraka frown at Izuku. “Why not??” Uraraka snaps.
Izuku looks torn. “What if he gets angry?” He sniffs. Shouto’s eyebrows shoot up in disbelief. “You both already are.”
“We’re not angry,” Shouto insists. “We’re worried.”
“Why would Aizawa-sensei get mad at you?” Uraraka scoffs. “For being in pain??”
“For wasting his time?”
Uraraka huffs. “Don’t be stupid, Deku-kun! I’m going to get him. Todoroki-kun will stay here with you. Right?”
Shouto nods. “Of course.” No one could tear him away if they tried. He isn’t going anywhere.
Uraraka leaves quickly through the front door.
Once they’re alone, Shouto feels Izuku go incredibly stiff in his arms. Air is sucked in between his teeth and comes out in sobs. Shouto’s heart clenches—has it gotten worse?
“Izuku—” Shouto tries to ask, but then Izuku interrupts him..
“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m sorry I didn’t...didn’t say anything, I’m s-sorry I made you worry!”
“It’s fine,” Shouto tries to reassure him. That is honestly the last thing on his mind right now. “Don’t worry about that now. Just focus on—”
“You shouldn’t have to...keep doing this f-for me...”
Shouto frowns. Hadn’t he already cleared this up? Doesn’t Izuku know how much Shouto wants to do this? But...no, he never actually told him that, did he? Not directly.
“...I want to help you, Izuku,” he says. “Surely you of all people ought to understand that, right?”
Izuku must know how it feels to want to help someone this desperately. Izuku, who can’t help but stick his nose in people’s business. Who goes crazy when he can’t find some way to help someone in need. Shouto probably doesn’t even need to be in love with Izuku to want to help him like this. If any of their classmates were in his position, they’d almost certainly do the same. (Except for maybe Bakugou? Although, who knows with him, lately.)
...They might not do quite so much hugging and hand holding in the process, though.
Izuku doesn’t respond. Shouto worries that perhaps Izuku didn’t hear him. He intends to repeat himself, but then Shouto feels the tension in Izuku’s shoulders ease slightly. The tears don’t stop, though. Shouto’s shirt is getting a bit damp. Not that he cares.
“Feeling any better?” Shouto asks.
Izuku hesitates. “It, um...kind of comes in waves...” he admits. “It’s. Less bad right now. B-but not for long, probably.”
Oh.
“This...isn’t really helping, is it,” Shouto says. It’s not a question.
“It’s not... not helping,” Izuku replies. “I-It...feels nice, at least.”
That’s something. This must be better than having to suffer through it alone.
“Okay,” Shouto nods. “Then I won’t stop.”
If Shouto’s presence alone can do anything at all...no. So long as Izuku wants him around, he’ll stay.
That being said, just the heat of his left side itself clearly isn’t doing much. Maybe if he tried to more than just passively warm him up, that could be more effective? So he (reluctantly) removes his arms from around Izuku to instead take his scarred right hand in his own—watching carefully for signs of discomfort—to try and gently massage warmth into each of his fingers.
“Is this okay?” Shouto asks.
Izuku sniffs, but gives another nod. He tries to raise his left hand to wipe away some of his tears, but it’s shaking too much. Impulsively, Shouto pauses his ministrations to reach out and wipe away Izuku’s tears for him with his thumb.
Shouto’s heart beats a little faster at the opportunity to touch him like this. He wants to cradle Izuku’s cheek in his hand, run his fingers through his hair, lean in close to count and memorize each of his freckles, press his ear to Izuku’s chest and feel his heartbeat—
But then his thoughts suddenly and alarmingly turn to other things that are really, really not appropriate. Shouto’s cheeks are on fire, and Izuku’s appear to be too. He retracts his hand quickly and returns to massaging Izuku’s fingers. Where the hell did that come from? He needs to focus, damn it, not let his mind wander to...whatever that was.
“Sorry,” Shouto mutters.
“I-it’s okay...” Izuku replies.
A firm knock on the door breaks the tension of the moment.
Izuku stiffens in surprise. Shouto sits up straighter, turning to look at the door. He doesn’t let go of Izuku’s hand, though.
Before either of them can say anything, Aizawa-sensei enters the room with Uraraka trailing behind.
“Sensei!” Izuku squeaks.
“Midoriya,” Aizawa says, leaning against the wall by Izuku’s desk and crossing his arms. “Todoroki.” He nods towards Shouto. Shouto nods back.
“I-I’m sorry for making you come all this way...!” Izuku says.
Uraraka puts her hands on her hips and puffs out her cheeks in indignation. “Deku-kun, really!”
“Uraraka said you were in so much pain you couldn’t move,” Aizawa retorts matter-of-factly. His eyes narrow at Izuku, who stiffens further at the scrutiny. “Any improvement?”
Izuku bites his lip. “Well. Um. A-a little? Kind of...?”
Shouto sighs. Of course Izuku would attempt to downplay it, even now. “It’s not much better,” Shouto reports more accurately. “He said it comes in waves, and he still can’t move much.” Shouto glances at Izuku. He’s unsure if what little movement Izuku’s managed is an indication of improvement or not. He’s been speaking more clearly than he was when they first found him, at least. “...But he’s more lucid, so that’s good.”
Izuku frowns at him. He doesn’t seem to appreciate being spoken over, and Shouto does feel mildly guilty about that. But only mildly. It’s important that Sensei have accurate information.
Aizawa hums in acknowledgement, and turns to Izuku. “Alright. I know this is probably pointless to ask you of all people, but do you feel like you need to go to the hospital?”
Izuku blanches. “N-no!! It’s not urgent! I swear! I’m fine!”
Shouto wants to retort that Izuku is very much not fine, even if the situation isn’t an emergency. But he holds his tongue.
Aizawa sighs, and shrugs. “Well. I had to at least ask. Not that going to the hospital would do much good. It would cause too much stress, take way too long, and all we’d be able to do is maybe have a doctor prescribe you some pain medication. Not worth it.”
“R-right...” Izuku says.
“Regardless, you’re going to Recovery Girl first thing in the morning,” Aizawa instructs. “Ideally, she can prescribe you some medication to help you manage this.”
“Medication...” Izuku echoes, looking vaguely off-put. “Isn’t that. Bad?”
Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “Bad? What do you mean, bad?”
Shouto also has no idea what Izuku could possibly mean. Is he really opposed to pain medication on principle? But he said he took some earlier?
“Um...I-I mean...” Izuku bites his lip, and he looks like he’s about to continue speaking, but then his eyes...unfocus, and he zones right out of the conversation. It’s a little bit alarming.
“Deku-kun...?” Uraraka says, stepping forward and waving her hand in front of his face. He doesn’t react, but more tears form in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. There’s a lump in Shouto’s throat. He can only guess that the pain must have spiked again and taken him off guard.
Shouto spares an awkward glance at their teacher, who just frowns and watches them carefully as he gently tugs Izuku back into a loose hug. Izuku immediately curls in closer and sobs into his shoulder. Shouto can only brace himself mentally against Izuku’s agony, and gives Aizawa a look of desperation. Please help him. Please do something.
Aizawa’s hardened expression cracks. He steps forward and crouches next to Izuku’s bed, reaching out to rub his back in a soothing gesture.
“Midoriya,” he says, voice soft and measured. “Can you hear me?”
It takes a few moments, but Izuku whimpers and nods into Shouto’s shoulder. “...Y-yes, Sensei,” he whispers.
“I don’t know what you have against pain medication,” Aizawa say slowly. “But I can give you some right now to help take the edge off, if you want.”
Izuku turns his head to the side to blink at sensei. “You...h-huh?”
“He said he already took ibuprofen earlier...” Uraraka mentions.
“It’s not ibuprofen.” Aizawa-sensei reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bottle of pills with a prescription label on it. Shouto’s eyes widen. “This is something I take occasionally. Professionally speaking, I absolutely should not be giving you this, but I think the situation warrants bending the rules a bit.”
Izuku shifts in Shouto’s arms. He loosens his grip slightly to allow Izuku more freedom of movement. “I—I don’t want you to g-get in trouble, Sensei.”
Aizawa shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that.” He unscrews the cap and shakes two tablets out into his hand. “This will probably make you incredibly drowsy, and you’ll be groggy later, but it’ll work in a pinch to help you get some rest and relief tonight. That is, if you want it.”
Izuku stares at the pills in Aizawa’s palm. Then he nods. “O-okay.”
“I-I’ll get some water!” Uraraka says, hurrying to Izuku’s bathroom and quickly filling a cup of water from the sink. She hands it off to Aizawa, who offers it and the pills to Izuku.
Shouto gives Izuku space to take his medication. He watches Izuku’s arms continue to tremble, and his mind drifts. He remembers how his fingers and arm looked, mottled and swollen, during their Sports Festival match. He remembers the summer training camp disaster, Izuku’s arms completely immobile and so destroyed they were purple. How small he looked in the hospital afterward, dwarfed by the bandages...
Suddenly, Shouto remembers the dinner with his siblings. What Izuku said.
‘If I kept going the way I had been, I was warned I might lose the ability to move my arms at all...’
Aizawa-sensei doesn’t know about that. Dread pools in Shouto’s stomach. What if that’s relevant, but Izuku just isn’t thinking about it? What if this situation is even worse than it seems? What if this is something Sensei needs to know?
“Sensei...” Shouto says, swallowing thickly. “There...might be something else.”
Aizawa raises an eyebrow. Izuku frowns at him.
“Izuku mentioned to me,” he says carefully, “that he was warned by a doctor he was at risk of losing the ability to move his arms.”
Izuku’s eyes widen. “Shouto-kun?!”
“What?!” Uraraka gasps.
“What,” Aizawa deadpans.
Izuku pulls away immediately, scooting backwards in bed and putting distance between them with a wide-eyed look of betrayal.
“I-I’m sorry, Izuku,” Shouto croaks, feeling carved open with instant guilt. “But you said you never told Sensei, and even if you think you’re in the clear, suddenly you’re in so much pain you can’t move? I just...”
He just what? Just make a huge mistake?
“Y-you’re making it sound so m-much worse than it is!!” Izuku protests, glaring at Shouto. He turns to Aizawa-sensei in desperation. “They just meant i-if I kept breaking my bones with my quirk! And I haven’t! So it’s fine!! It has n-nothing to do with this!”
Aizawa narrows his eyes at Izuku. “...Does your mother know about this?”
Izuku nods emphatically. “O-of course!”
“What about Recovery Girl?”
Izuku hesitates. “I...think so? A-although I guess I...never told her...” he bites his lip. “I-I sort of assumed she would know anyway?”
“Who else?”
Izuku grimaces. “Well...All Might, I guess?”
Aizawa scowls. “All Might? Why him?”
“M-my mom told him! During the d-dorm interview!”
“Tch,” Aizawa huffs, arms crossed. “...You’re not obligated to tell me any of your private medical information, Midoriya, but why do I get the feeling you were deliberately hiding this from me anyway?”
Izuku shoots Shouto another glare. Shouto wants to sink into the floor and vanish.
“I wasn’t hiding it...” Izuku mutters.
“If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be this upset that Todoroki told me just now,” Aizawa retorts.
Izuku stubbornly keeps his mouth shut. He tugs his knees into his chest, curling into a ball, and starts crying quietly. Shouto’s gut squirms with shame and regret.
Aizawa sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Now isn’t the time for this, clearly. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Among other things.” He stands, straightening his clothes and capture weapon. “You’re officially excused from morning classes tomorrow, by the way,” he says. “I have a feeling you’ll need the time off. We’ll see how you feel in the afternoon after Recovery Girl looks at you.”
“...Yes, sir...” Izuku mutters.
“For now, just get some rest,” Aizawa says. “If you need anything or have any other issues, will you be able to contact me?”
Izuku squints up at him. “Huh?”
“Are you physically able to use your phone to contact my emergency number, Midoriya.”
“Oh.”
Izuku uncurls slightly, and attempts to use his trembling hand to reach for the phone on his nightstand. He grits his teeth and is able to pick it up, but he can’t maintain a proper grip on it. It clatters to the floor.
“That’s a no, then,” Aizawa says. He bends down to grab the phone and place it back on Izuku’s nightstand.
“M-maybe it will be fine once the medicine kicks in?” Izuku suggests.
“...I can stay with him,” Shouto says without thinking.
Aizawa raises an eyebrow. Izuku frowns and pointedly avoids looking at him.
“I-I can keep the room warm for him,” Shouto says, trying to justify himself. “And I’ll be here in case he needs anything.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Izuku says, reserved.
“I want to,” Shouto insists. Of course he wants to stay. And not even for all that noble a reason. He’s just being selfish.
“Might not be a bad idea,” Aizawa says anyway, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I would stay, but I have patrol later. I’ll allow it only if you both actually sleep, and if Midoriya is comfortable with it.”
That’s the issue now, though. How badly has Shouto messed up? Is Izuku no longer able to trust him? The mere thought makes Shouto’s chest feel like it’s going to cave in on itself. But all he can do is wait for Izuku’s answer.
Izuku glares at him for a moment. Then he sighs, and looks away. “...H-he can stay.”
Shouto should feel relieved, but he doesn’t. Izuku still seems reluctant. He probably only agreed in order to not further inconvenience their teacher.
“Alright. We’ll go with that, then,” Aizawa says. He gestures to Uraraka. “Uraraka, time to go. Thank you for coming to get me.”
“O-of course!” Uraraka says. Before leaving, she pulls the two protein bars out of her pocket and addresses Izuku. “Um. I just wanted to give you these. Since I didn’t see you eat dinner...”
Izuku’s expression softens into surprise when he looks at her. Then his eyes well up with more tears—of the emotional kind this time. “Uraraka-san...!”
Uraraka waves his appreciation off, placing the protein bars next to Izuku’s phone on his nightstand. “Don’t worry about it, okay? Just focus on resting and feeling better.”
“I’ll try...” Izuku nods, sniffling.
Uraraka smiles at him and waves as she leaves. “See you later, Deku-kun!”
Izuku looks like he wants to wave back, but can’t.
Before Aizawa exits, he addresses Shouto. “Todoroki, text me if anything notable happens.”
“Notable?” Shouto asks.
“Anything you’d normally come and fetch me for.”
“Understood.”
“I’m on patrol in about four hours. If there’s an emergency while I’m busy, get one of the other teachers.”
Shouto nods. Aizawa shuts the door behind him.
It’s just the two of them, now.
Izuku doesn’t move. Shouto can’t say anything.
Rather than sit there and stew in awkward silence, Shouto decides to be proactive. If he’s staying here tonight, he needs somewhere to sleep. Besides, Izuku deserves a few moments to himself, after all that.
“I should...go get my futon,” Shouto says, rising from Izuku’s bed. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” Izuku mutters in reply. He carefully lies back down on his back and stares up at the ceiling.
Shouto excuses himself. He spends the entire trip up to the fifth floor ruminating over his mistake.
When Izuku had talked about it at dinner, he’d given the impression that it wasn’t necessarily a secret. He’d brought it up casually in conversation, for crying out loud, and had waved it off as simply ‘not being important’. How could Shouto have known he wanted to keep it from Aizawa specifically?
That’s such a flimsy fucking excuse, though. Even at the time, Shouto had known to respect Izuku’s wishes and not say anything to anyone. Something doesn’t need to be a secret for it to be clearly personal, and not something you just share. Not to mention, Uraraka was also in the room. Izuku probably hadn’t wanted her to know either.
The long and short of it is that Izuku had trusted him. He trusted Shouto, and in a moment of panic he’d broken that trust. It hadn’t even been necessary—Aizawa hadn’t done anything with the information other than hold it over Izuku’s head as a discussion for later. It was a huge mistake, and Shouto has to make up for it somehow.
When he returns, futon and pillow bundled in his arms, he finds Izuku has turned onto his side and is staring blankly at the wall, crying quietly.
“Izuku...” Shouto says, trying to get his attention as he lays his futon on the floor. Izuku doesn’t move or respond—just closes his eyes.
Okay. Shouto stands and takes a deep breath.
“Izuku, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely.
“...It’s okay,” Izuku murmurs.
That forgiveness came far too quickly. Shouto frowns; he gets the distinct impression that Izuku is only giving in to appease him.
“Is it actually okay?”
“I...” Izuku sighs, and just trails off.
“You won’t look at me,” Shouto points out. “You’re upset. I never stopped to think about why you would have wanted to keep what the doctor told you to yourself, and just blurted it out in front of Uraraka too. Even if I was worried, I could have talked to you about it first. I should have. I’m sorry.”
“I said it’s fine.”
“It clearly isn’t.”
Finally, Izuku opens his eyes. He returns to lying on his back, and spares Shouto a glance out of the corner of his eye.
“I...don’t know what you want me to say,” he says.
“How about what you actually feel?” Shouto snaps without meaning to. His fists clench tightly at his sides. He knows he doesn’t deserve Izuku’s immediate forgiveness, and that’s not what he’s looking for. He just wants to talk about it, so this doesn’t develop into some lingering nasty thing between them.
Izuku swallows. “...You don’t want to hear that,” he mutters.
Shouto blinks in disbelief. What?
“Why don’t you let me decide what I want?” Shouto huffs in reply.
He doesn’t get a response. Instead, Izuku’s eyes squeeze shut, and more tears spring forth.
All of Shouto’s irritation drains out of him instantly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath. What on earth is he doing? Izuku is still in agonizing pain. He’s probably exhausted! He definitely doesn’t have the energy to engage Shouto in whatever the fuck he’s trying to do to assuage his own guilt. How does he keep screwing up this badly?
“I. Nevermind, Izuku, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be doing this right now—”
“...I-I feel like...” Izuku says, taking Shouto by surprise. “M-maybe I don’t d-deserve to have anyone care about me, if all I do is make them worry.”
Shouto insides go cold. His eyes go wide, and he gapes at Izuku. “What?”
No. No, he can’t actually think that. Can he?
“I don’t have any right t-to be mad at you,” Izuku sobs. It’s gut wrenching. “When it’s my fault you were s-so worried, it’s my fault no one trusts me, it’s my fault my arms are like this...!”
Shouto feels a bit like crying himself. He hadn’t even considered the mental toll all of this must have been taking on Izuku this whole time. And once again, he bore it all in total silence, until he finally snapped. Shouto scrambles to sit next to Izuku in bed, desperate to find some way to help.
Izuku attempts to hide his face behind his still trembling hands, but can’t seem to manage it, and lets them fall back to his sides. “All I do is make my mom cry,” he sobs. “Everyone is always so a-angry and sad because I-I keep messing up! How can someone like me be a hero? I can’t ever m-make anyone feel at ease—and now look at what I-I’ve done to myself!”
His trembling fists clench at his sides. He can’t even make a fist.
“Aizawa-sensei was right...They were all right about me from the v-very beginning. I’m useless. I can’t... I can’t...”
Shouto can’t listen to this anymore, and ends up doing the first impulsive thing that comes to mind. He leans forward and gently cups Izuku’s cheeks with his hands. Izuku stops sobbing and freezes in surprise.
“You can do it,” Shouto whispers firmly. It’s the first thing he can think of, the reminder that Izuku built into his hero name. The thing Shouto swore to himself to tell Izuku whenever he needed to hear it. “Izuku, please don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“S-shouto-kun...” Izuku sniffs, miserable. Shouto wipes more of Izuku’s tears away with his thumbs. He doesn’t even know if that’s particularly helpful. It’s just something he wants to do, some urge inside him to physically convey how desperately he wants to take away Izuku’s pain.
Izuku is so fixated on how much he worries people. And Shouto has to really think about that. Izuku gets lectured on this constantly, by everyone, and up until now Shouto thought they were all right to. Izuku is too quick to disregard his own wellbeing, and it seemed as if by extension he was disregarding the feelings of the people who love him.
But that’s clearly not the case. Izuku is so concerned about everyone else’s feelings that he consistently, and paradoxically, prioritizes them over his own health. He deflects, and keeps secrets, and doesn’t reach out, because he doesn’t want to be a burden.
Shouto takes a deep breath. “Of course it would be better if we could worry about you less,” he says. “But that’s because it would mean you’re okay. That’s—that’s all that matters, Izuku, that’s all anyone wants.” He thinks so, anyway. He probably can’t speak for anyone else. “At least, that’s all I want.”
He thinks maybe he’d give anything, do anything, just for that.
Izuku sniffs, and Shouto wipes away more of his tears while slowly, Izuku calms.
“But what if...” he mutters, voice cracking. “What if I’m n-not okay?”
Shouto goes still. His gut squirms.
“...What if I-I can’t be?”
Izuku’s voice is so small, it’s barely there. A whisper of a thing. An admission Shouto thinks he may not have even meant to speak aloud.
Shouto’s first instinct is to say of course that’s not true. Izuku can be okay, he will be okay, he has to be. The alternative is too heartbreaking, and surely too unrealistic, to even consider. But Shouto rethinks that. He thinks about what he knows about Izuku, now.
He’s very good—practiced, even—at making it seem like he’s fine. But maybe...maybe he hasn’t ever really been fine? At least, not in a long, long time.
Shouto understands. God, does he understand. Shouto spent the majority of his life not fine. He never even understood what it meant to ‘be okay’ until he’d finally felt it for the first time a mere few months ago. Maybe Izuku feels the same. Maybe he just doesn’t know how to be okay, and so he resorts to whatever else under the sun he can think of to protect the feelings of his loved ones. Only, that doesn’t really work. Often it just makes things worse.
But that’s fine. That’s fine, because Shouto can show him. He can be there for Izuku like Izuku was for him, he can—
—Maybe you’re thinking, ‘oh I can fix him!’ Or some crap like that.
Bakugou.
His words echo in Shouto’s mind.
Deku doesn’t take himself into account. He never has, and he probably never will.
Along with the unspoken: Don’t expect that to change. Especially don’t expect to be the thing that changes him.
“I...” Shouto says, but no more words come out. His thoughts race.
His chest feels tight. But...he has to think about this. Nothing is guaranteed. Shouto wants Izuku to be okay, wants to share all of Izuku’s burdens, wants to take away his pain, but what if he can’t have any of that?
Is Shouto going to just...abandon him?
“...I’ll stay beside you regardless,” Shouto finally chokes out. “I. I don’t care if you’re not okay.”
Izuku’s tears have mostly dried up. His eyelids flutter, and he squints up at Shouto in confusion. “But...you just said...”
“I know what I said,” Shouto says quickly. “And I. I guess I lied. Of course I want you to be okay, but I...I’m more selfish than that. What I really want is, is just...”
He said he’d decide what he wants. So what does Shouto want?
Shouto listens to Izuku’s breathing, and feels his warmth under his hands. He remembers his smile and his look of determination and the way he glows when he uses his quirk, and the sound of his laugh, and how stiff and awkward he gets whenever anyone points a camera at him, how all of his t-shirts have words like ‘sheets’ or ‘dress shirt’ printed on them, how when he mutters to himself he sounds like he’s literally bursting at the seams with passion. How he looks at Shouto and sees all of him, and still doesn’t flinch.
“I just want you, Izuku,” Shouto admits, and he feels that want so desperately that his eyes prickle with his own tears. “Whether you’re okay or not, whether I worry about you all the time or not, whether you have a quirk or not, I don’t care.”
Your relationship is whatever you two want it to be. Only you get decide what it will look like.
“I just want to be with you,” he croaks, pressing his forehead to Izuku’s, just to be closer to him. “H-however you’ll have me. I—”
He lets out a breath, eyes squeezed shut.
“...I-I love you.”
It takes all of ten seconds after the words leave his mouth before Shouto panics.
What is he doing? What the fuck is he doing, laying this all on Izuku right now? This isn’t how he wanted to do this!
“Fuck,” Shouto hisses, pulling away, eyes snapping open to actually look at Izuku properly. He’d been so goddamn wrapped up in his own head—
Izuku is asleep.
His eyes are closed and his breathing is even. He’s asleep.
Shouto gapes, and swallows. When did Izuku fall asleep? He...he’d been responding just a minute ago...
The medicine. The pain medication must have finally taken effect, and made him drowsy enough to pass out. It probably kicked in some time before he fell asleep. Shouto’s been on painkillers before, it can sometimes make you a little loopy. Were these those sorts of painkillers? Had Izuku been borderline delirious for the past however long? Is that why he’d suddenly started blurting out his deepest insecurities without warning??
Would Izuku even remember any of this in the morning?
Anxiety curling in his stomach, Shouto takes a deep breath. That...doesn’t matter right now. Izuku is asleep, he’s getting the rest he needs, and Shouto is here for a reason.
He carefully extricates himself from the bed without disturbing him. Shouto frowns—he’s sleeping on top of his blanket, but attempting to remove it from underneath him would be a bad idea. Shouto opens Izuku’s closet to see if he can find a spare or something. Luckily, he does find one—presumably the lighter blanket he used in the summer?—and gently drapes it over him to help keep him warm.
Work done, Shouto climbs into his futon on the floor. It’s not as comfortable as sleeping on tatami, but it’ll do.
Shouto takes a few more deep breaths. He...will talk with Izuku about all of this tomorrow. Depending on how he ends up feeling, anyway. Once Izuku is squared away and about as okay as he can reasonably get, they’ll talk. He’ll lay it all out there. He will. So it doesn’t matter whether he remembers or not.
It’ll be fine.