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Hospitals, Shouto has learned intimately, are not pleasant places. They try their best to look like they’re homey and comforting, with armchairs and carpeted lobbies, with paintings hanging in the rooms and the lights not so blindingly sterile as they are in movies, but still—they are not pleasant places in the least.
There’s an oil painting of a duck in Shouto’s hospital room. It stares at him with one black, beady eye as soon as he wakes up. He notices this before he notices how his leg is elevated, how he’s hooked to an IV and to another machine that aids his breathing, how a clear mask is strapped over his nose and mouth. When he breathes, the mask fogs up and clicks.
A nurse comes in shortly after Shouto wakes to check his vitals, and Shouto just stares at the duck painting. It’s putting him on edge. He averts his gaze from the painting and looks to the nurse as she takes the breathing mask off of him and then as she speaks to him, but he can’t really make sense of anything she’s saying.
His mind is pretty fuzzy, but he remembers that he had fallen during a battle with villains because the roof of a building had suddenly collapsed while he was on it. The trio of villains that Shouto had been facing on the roof fell with him, and he remembers vaguely that Izuku—the impulsive, passionate idiot—jumped down after him.
Someone must’ve brought Shouto to safety, considering his location now. He hopes that it was Izuku—the Izuku didn’t harm himself while jumping in after Shouto as impulsively as he did.
“Is Hero Deku here?” Shouto blurts suddenly, not realizing he’s interrupting the nurse until he’s already done it.
She freezes, takes a moment to re-calibrate before she replies, “He is here, yes.”
Shouto’s breathing hitches. “Is he okay?”
“He’s in better shape than you are,” she answers with an air of finality, and then she begins to talk again where she’d left off. Shouto lets out a relieved breath.
He wonders if the nurse can tell he’s not been listening, because before she leaves she says, “Hero Deku will be able to visit you later. But until then, just focus on resting up. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
Shouto blinks at her as she pulls the door shut behind her. He decides to go back to sleep because he can’t look at that stupid duck for any longer.
—
Shouto’s awakened a few more times by nurses and doctors before a well needed familiar face walks into the room—albeit with a cast and sling on his arm and bandaging wrapped around his head. Izuku offers Shouto a slightly somber smile as he pulls a chair closer to his hospital bed and Shouto pushes himself up to sit, his back pressing into the pillows behind him.
“It’s good to see you awake,” Izuku greets as he sits. “I wish I could have been…” he trails off, entwining his fingers in his lap. “I’m… I’m really sorry, Shouto.”
Shouto’s tongue clicks against the top of his mouth when he opens his mouth to reply, “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He pauses, rethinks. “Except… jumping down after me. That was stupid and dangerous.”
Izuku drops his head, looking down at his hands in his lap. “I won’t be sorry for that. I couldn’t have just left you without knowing you were okay.”
“You should look out for yourself, for your own safety,” Shouto insists, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. “If something worse happened to you while you were going after me…”
“I’m fine,” Izuku replies, “I’m fine and you’re safe. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”
Shouto sighs. Izuku lifts a hand from his lap and reaches for Shouto’s, which lies at his side. Shouto flips his palm upwards and lets Izuku intertwine their fingers.
“Would you have done the same for me?” Izuku inquires, pensive.
“In a heartbeat.”
Izuku lets out a soft chuckle. “See?”
But it’s different, Shouto wants to say. He won’t, though; he won’t say that because Izuku always gets sad when he’s reminded Shouto values himself less than he values Izuku. Shouto’s just being reasonable (and maybe a little sentimental). Izuku is the Number One Hero, after all. He’s important. People need him. Shouto needs him.
“Just take care of yourself,” Shouto replies instead, stroking his thumb lightly over the back of Izuku’s scarred hand—another constant reminder of how far Izuku will go.
They’re quiet for a few moments, just wallowing in each other’s presence. Shouto’s gaze flickers up to the duck, then, and he lets out an outward sigh.
Izuku furrows his eyebrow, following Shouto’s gaze. “Is something the matter…?” he questions, bemused.
“That duck,” Shouto answers.
Izuku squints at the painting, as if trying to see something wrong with it. “What about it?” he asks, and then he comments, “You know, ducks symbolize happiness and fidelity. That’s probably why they put it in here.”
“It’s looking at me weird,” Shouto deadpans.
Izuku barks out a laugh. “Really?”
Shouto nods. “Yeah, really. It’s freaking me out.”
“You’re weird, Shouto,” Izuku says amusedly, slipping his hand from Shouto’s and standing from his chair regardless. He peers around the room, and Shouto curiously watches him.
“Aha!” Izuku exclaims, taking a pad of sticky notes off of a table in the room and victoriously thrusting it into the air.
Shouto lets out an amused huff as Izuku peels off one of the sticky notes and stands on his tiptoes to stick it over the duck’s beady, omniscient eye.
“Much better,” Shouto says, smile pulling at his lips.
Izuku pads back over to his chair and slumps into it before he playfully says, “You know I’ll do anything for you.”
And looking past Izuku’s playful tone, Shouto does know, because Izuku proves how far he’ll go again and again. That doesn’t mean he likes it, though he supposes that he can understand, because he’d do anything for Izuku, too.