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After phone calls from his father, Todoroki’s mind tends to drift. His thoughts grow cold and distant from the rest of him, until all that’s left is a dull haze that masks the uneasy churning in his gut. The sensation used to bother him, but Todoroki doesn’t mind so much anymore. The haze is something familiar, even manageable.
What is not manageable, however, is how his skin crawls after contact with his father. It feels scratchy and alien, like a rough fabric that’s draped over him rather than a part of his body. On a hot day like today, it’s practically suffocating, leaving his skin raw in the wake of the warm summer winds.
Perhaps that’s why, when Todoroki sees the storefront that he’s passed dozens of times with hardly a glance—Yuuei Tattoo—this time, he enters, desperate to escape the heat.
Todoroki sighs as the cool air of the shop hits his skin. Unfortunately, he only gets a brief moment of respite before the receptionist chirps, “Hello!”
Ugh. Right. He’ll have to interact with people if he wants to stay here. He can do that, right?
Todoroki opens his mouth to say something in return, but—his skin is tight, still distracting, and the haze in his mind obscures whatever words he’s trying to find. He’s left blinking at the receptionist’s absurdly bright smile.
Todoroki squints at him suspiciously. Shouldn’t a tattoo shop be dark and edgy or something? Not filled with people with bright smiles and even brighter green hair?
Said green-haired receptionist tilts his head. “…Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Todoroki manages, wincing at the croak of his own voice. He coughs. “Do you take walk-ins?”
“Sure! We can start the design, at the very least.” He holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Midoriya Izuku.”
When they shake hands, Todoroki’s palm catches against Midoriya’s callouses and scars, but the texture doesn’t aggravate his oversensitive skin like it should. Instead, Todoroki finds himself grounded in the grooves of Midoriya’s crooked, ink-stained hand.
“Todoroki Shouto,” Todoroki says, thankful that his voice sounds more his own this time.
“What kind of tattoo are you thinking about, Todoroki?” Midoriya says, scrambling for a notebook and pen. Within seconds, he’s muttering under his breath and jotting down notes as he shoots Todoroki quick glances, as if already planning for what Todoroki will say next.
That’s probably a good thing, as Todoroki doesn’t exactly have a plan for what to say next.
Todoroki settles for a shrug. “Anything is fine.”
Midoriya’s pen stops in its track. He raises an eyebrow. Apparently, he hadn’t been planning on Todoroki saying that.
“Uh…You might want to be a bit more specific,” Midoriya says. He pulls out a binder from underneath the desk. “You’re lucky Kacchan’s not in today; he might have taken you up on that. You could have ended up with a giant explosion on your bicep or something—though, o-obviously if you want that sort of thing, that’s fine! But if you’re not sure, you should probably look at some samples—”
“I don’t care,” Todoroki snaps, shoving the binder away with more force than is necessary. But his thoughts feel too slow to process the images, let alone choose one. God, the idea of choosing one feels—feels exhausting. He just wants Midoriya to do it.
He just wants someone to do something to his skin until it feels like his own again.
Midoriya takes a long look at Todoroki, and his smile fades.
“Ah,” Midoriya says, his voice quieter. “We have a room in the back, you know. Do you want to wait there, and I can make you some tea?”
Todoroki didn’t come here for tea, he came here for a tattoo. But his words are sluggish and the cool air drifting in from the back of the shop feels good, so Todoroki finds himself following Midoriya.
The room he’s led into doesn’t have needles or tattoo chairs like Todoroki expected it to. Instead, it’s filled with soft lamps, a plush couch, and a tiny kitchenette. No one else seems to be here today, but the shop doesn’t feel lonely: not with Midoriya filling it with the sounds of clattering tea cups and his own mumbling.
“Next appointment isn’t for another hour, should be good until then—”
Todoroki closes his eyes. Midoriya’s murmurs are soft against his ears. Todoroki—who is used to either yelling or total silence, with very little in-between—finds it easy to let the sound wash over him.
By the time Midoriya finally presses a mug into Todoroki’s hands, Todoroki has calmed down enough to feel embarrassed by his earlier outburst.
“Sorry for…” Todoroki trails off, not really wanting to end the sentence with having an episode in your shop.
“Don’t worry about it! It’s more common than you might think, actually. Your first time getting tattooed can be pretty stressful.” Midoriya flushes and fiddles with his tea bag. “Not to be presumptuous! It just seemed like you haven’t gotten one, since you didn’t know what you wanted, but maybe you have one where I can’t see; some people like to get them where it won’t show, especially if you have an office job or…”
“I don’t have an office job,” Todoroki says. His words feel loose and warm against his tongue now that he’s taken a few sips of tea. “Or any tattoos.”
“That’s a shame. About the tattoo, I mean, not the office job. Not that I’m trying to sell you on one or anything—it’d just look good on you, I think.”
Todoroki takes another sip of tea, wondering if he can chalk up his flushed cheeks to the hot beverage.
“You could have given me a tattoo,” he points out.
Midoriya shakes his head. “Not really. I mean, that’s not to say you can’t make your own decisions! It’s just a comfort thing for me. I only want to tattoo people if they want one, and, well…you didn’t really seem like you did.”
Todoroki supposes that’s fair. Now that the itch under his skin has receded slightly, getting a tattoo doesn’t feel as urgent as it did before.
Still, he finds himself fascinated by Midoriya’s. Perhaps because Midoriya himself is so plain-looking—the mess of ink on his skin can’t help but stand out in stark contrast to the rest of him. Todoroki’s eyes idly track the geometric pattern that follows the scars on Midoriya’s hand, the script on his wrist half-hidden by a bracelet, the comic book character covering his left forearm, the two—
Todoroki blinks. “Are those bunny ears?”
Midoriya flushes, but smiles as he touches a hand to his collarbone where, indeed, two green rabbit ears stick out.
“Having it there makes me happy,” Midoriya explains, pulling his shirt collar down so that Todoroki can see the rest of the rabbit tattoo.
It’s…cute. It’s a bunny, of course it’s cute. The tattoo’s sole purpose is, apparently, just to be cute, just to…make Midoriya happy.
Todoroki—who was created for the sole purpose of serving his father’s ambition—finds that wonderful.
“Cute,” is what Todoroki accidentally says aloud, and then he immediately wants to die. He can’t just have a minor mental breakdown in this man’s shop and then call his tattoo cute.
“T-thank you!” Midoriya says, beaming. “It was my second-ever tattoo and—”
The bell on the shop door chimes, and the two of them startle. Midoriya’s grin turns sheepish.
“That’s probably my next appointment…”
“I should leave you to your business,” Todoroki says, setting his cup down. “Thank you, Midoriya, for…” not letting me getting a tattoo while I was partially dissociating. “…the tea.”
“Any time!” At Todoroki’s raised eyebrow, Midoriya stammers and continues, “I-I mean we’re not a tea shop or anything, but I know it can take a long time to work out if you want a tattoo, so…you’re always welcome to stop by.”
“I’ll…keep that in mind,” Todoroki says, surprised to find that he actually means it.
When he leaves the shop, the air has cooled down enough that—with warm tea in his stomach and Midoriya’s tattoos occupying his thoughts—the walk back home is almost pleasant.
***
Todoroki is no stranger to rebellion. After all, Todoroki decided to study pre-med instead of business or economics. He decided to take a part-time job at a tiny flower shop instead of at his father’s company. Hell, he’s been dying his hair obnoxious colors since he had enough money to purchase the supplies.
Perhaps that’s why Yaoyorozu doesn’t even have the decency to look shocked when Todoroki asks, “What if I got a tattoo?”
“Do you think it would suit you? Body modification isn’t your usual form of rebellion,” Yaoyorozu says absently. As she speaks, her fingers never falter on the bouquet she’s arranging.
Todoroki pouts at his own flowers that he’s meant to be arranging. “It doesn’t have to be a rebellion thing. Maybe I just want one.”
“What would you want to get then?”
Her voice is warm and kind, which almost makes up for the fact that she asked the question knowing full-well that Todoroki doesn’t have an answer. Todoroki purses his lips, but, at the same time, he can’t help but marvel at how gentle Yaoyorozu’s execution of logic is. She and Midoriya seem to have that in common.
Todoroki thinks of green bunny ears, but quickly shakes the image out of his mind. That sort of thing might suit Midoriya, but Todoroki is sure he would look ridiculous with a tattoo like that.
“What would you get?” Todoroki asks instead.
Yaoyorozu hums. “I’ve never thought about it. Flowers seem like the obvious choice, I suppose, since my family owns this shop. But even then, there are so many differences choices to make: so many different flowers with different colors that all have different meanings. It seems overwhelming to pick just one thing.”
Todoroki nods, once again thankful to know Yaoyorozu Momo. Both of them grew up with their futures practically predetermined, and—as a result—in adulthood, both of them find their sudden abundance of choice to be rather startling. It’s part of why they took jobs in the warm familiarity of the Yaoyorozus’ flower shop, rather than somewhere more directly tied to their career goals.
It’s also why—despite Todoroki’s words—all this talk of tattoos is clearly just a safe, meaningless thought experiment.
Or, it’s supposed to be, anyway.
“Huh. Speaking of tattoos,” Yaoyorozu says. She nods toward the customer who just entered their shop.
Todoroki’s eyes widen. It’s Midoriya, muttering into his notebook as he walks toward them. When he glances up and sees Todoroki, he’s quick to stuff the notebook in his pocket and smile.
“Todoroki! I didn’t know you worked in this neighborhood.”
“I was walking home from work when we last met,” Todoroki says, averting his eyes. He can’t look at Midoriya, whom he’d last met while having an episode. But he definitely can’t look at Yaoyorozu, who’s staring at him like she’s put together the dots between their prior conversation and their current customer.
Todoroki can just…look down at his flowers. No one can fault him for that. It’s his job, after all.
When Midoriya leans against the counter, however, his presence makes it very difficult to do said job. Todoroki finds himself looking up after all, only to be met with Midoriya’s shining green eyes.
“You feeling better?” Midoriya asks kindly.
Todoroki nods. “Yes. Thank you again for the tea.”
“Any time!” Midoriya beams. “I like the company, and some of that tea is actually kind of old, so we have to get people to drink it, and…um, pretend I didn’t say that last part, actually. The tea is fine, I promise, it’s just not that fresh—but, um, anyway, you really should come down to the shop again. We still have to figure out if you want a tattoo, right?”
“We were actually just discussing what kind tattoo he’d like,” Yaoyorozu says, because she never actually loved him.
“Oh? And what—”
“How can we help you today?” Todoroki interrupts, deciding to choose his dignity over being polite to a customer.
Midoriya doesn’t seem offended, only pulling his notebook back out and flipping through the pages.
“I work at the tattoo shop a few blocks away,” he explains. “A lot of times people ask for flower tattoos, but since I don’t know that much about flowers, I’m not as equipped as I would like to handle those designs. I was hoping I could buy some of your more popular flowers to study.”
“Do you have particular flowers in mind?” Todoroki asks.
Midoriya glances down at his notes. “To start with: roses, carnations, lotus flowers, chrysanthemum, lilies—”
“Perhaps we should sell them to you one at a time?” Yaoyorozu suggests. “That way they won’t wilt before you’ve finished studying them.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Wonderful,” Yaoyorozu says. “Excuse me while I go in the back and see what’s available.”
“But there are flowers out here,” Todoroki mutters, before he realizes that—oh. She’s trying to give him and Midoriya time alone together.
“I really am glad you’re feeling better,” Midoriya says. He props an elbow on the counter and his chin in his hand. “I was kind of worried about you after you left, you know.”
“I apologize for worrying you,” Todoroki says, instead of saying something ridiculous like You really worried about me? or You thought about me after I left? “You…caught me on a weird day.”
Midoriya raises an eyebrow. “Weird enough to try to spontaneously get a tattoo you don’t even want?”
Todoroki leans against the counter and raises an eyebrow right back at him. “Like you’ve never done anything impulsive?”
“Of course not!” Midoriya says, though his grin is as guilty as any Todoroki’s ever seen.
Todoorki gives Midoriya’s tattoo sleeves a pointed look. “Forgive me if I’m not convinced.”
Midoriya opens his mouth—probably to defend his supposed levelheadedness—but before he can say a word, Yaoyorozu returns with the flowers.
Todoroki leans away from the counter, suddenly aware of the fact that his and Midoriya’s poses had become mirror images of each other in the few minutes they’d been chatting.
“Chrysanthemum,” Yaoyorozu says, offering the flowers to Midoriya. “They symbolize cheer and happiness, amongst other things. You see, depending on the colors…”
***
Midoriya leaves the shop with a small bouquet, a page full of notes about chrysanthemums, and a wave to the two of them. Yaoyorozu returns the wave with a smile, but her eyes are on Todoroki the moment the shop door closes.
“What?” Todoroki mumbles.
“So that’s why you want a tattoo.”
“Actually, it’s to rebel against my father,” Todoroki says dryly. “You were right the first time.”
“Uh huh. Sure.” Yaoyorozu’s forehead creases. “He mentioned you not feeling well. Have you been sick?”
“No, ah…” Todoroki shifts uncomfortably. Yaoyorozu knows about his episodes—has seen him through a few of them—but that doesn’t mean that he likes talking about it. “My father called me right after I left the shop that day. I shouldn’t have even picked up, but…Anyway, I was a bit out of sorts when I met Midoriya. He offered me some tea.”
Yaoyorozu hums. “Wow. He caught you post-Enji and you’re still interested?”
“I told you I’m getting a tattoo for rebellious reasons,” Todoroki complains. “Not because of Midoriya.”
“I thought you weren’t getting a tattoo?”
He isn’t. Probably. Though, the next time that Midoriya drops by—requesting roses and wondering aloud whether a rose tattoo would suit Todoroki—Todoroki can already feel his resolve waver. God, where is Yaoyorozu to stop him from doing something stupid: like getting a tattoo or complimenting Midoriya’s smile?
“What do you think, Todoroki?”
I think you have a nice smile. It makes the shop look brighter.
Todoroki shakes his head and tears away his gaze from Midoriya’s. He begins picking roses at random and gathering them into a bouquet.
“I don’t think a rose would suit me,” Todoroki says. After a moment’s hesitation, he admits, “I…don’t think any sort of tattoo would suit me.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“You did?” But how could Midoriya have known that when Todoroki hadn’t even known?
“Well, you’re wrong in thinking they wouldn’t suit you,” Midoriya says. He takes the roses that Todoroki offers him and sniffs them. “But like I said when we first met, you don’t seem like you want a tattoo right now. You’re impulsive, Todoroki, but…you also seem like the type of person who likes to give these things some thought.”
Todoroki’s face feels warm. His lips quirk into a smile despite himself.
“Midoriya, I…” Todoroki clears his throat. “I thought we agreed that you were the impulsive one.”
“I-I never agreed to that!” At Todoroki’s unimpressed look, Midoriya tries, “Maybe we’re both not impulsive?”
Todoroki raises an eyebrow. He somehow doubts that.
“Wait,” Todoroki says, thinking back to Midoriya’s words. “If you know I’m not getting a tattoo, why suggest tattoo ideas to me?”
Midoriya shrugs. “It’s fun. It’s like…a way of getting to know someone, you know? Like an icebreaker. But easier, in a way, because you don’t have to worry about other things…” Midoriya shrinks into himself, practically hiding behind the roses now. “…like being nervous or not knowing what to say…I’m sorry, that probably sounds weird…”
Not really. Todoroki rarely knows what to say to people.
“You should keep doing it,” Todoroki decides.
“R-really?”
“Sure. I think it would be nice to get to know each other,” Todoroki says, surprised at how much he means it.
But maybe he shouldn’t be. For all that he’s mortified to have had an episode in front of Midoriya, and for all that he isn’t interested in getting a tattoo, Todoroki still feels…safe around Midoriya. And Todoroki—for all that he gives off an aura of aloofness—has always been quick to form attachments to people like that.
Midoriya’s face turns red. He stares at the roses, suddenly extremely interested in them. “O-okay! I’ll keep doing it then.”
Todoroki tilts his head. “Midoriya? Is something wrong?”
“N-no, I just—you know, I’m actually surprised you’ve never done the same thing with flowers, Todoroki,” Midoriya says, peeking his head out of the cover of roses. “You’ve never tried to guess what kinds of flowers would suit people best?”
Todoroki shakes his head. “I just give them whatever they ask for.”
Midoriya chuckles. “I’m not sure I’d be able to resist…but I guess people aren’t looking for that in a flower shop, huh? Maybe I am the impulsive one of the two of us.”
Todoroki agrees, but he also thinks that the logic Midoriya used to draw that conclusion is flawed. Todoroki isn’t less impulsive because he doesn’t improvise flower arrangements. Rather, he’s less impulsive than Midoriya because no one could hope to compete in the wake of Midroiay’s impulsivity. In just the past week, Todoroki has practically been swept away in it: from his episode in Midoriya’s shop to the borderline flirting that they’re doing now. And now…
And now they’re forming some kind of odd routine together where Midoriya drops by the flower shop, flashes a smile at Todoroki, and suggests tattoo ideas to him.
But, rather than be swept away by it, Todoroki finds himself slipping into this routine with ease. Every week, his chest fills with a comfortable warmth as he gathers flowers for Midoriya, rejects his tattoos ideas, and—occasionally—lets his eyes linger on that smile.
It’s such a bright smile, is the thing. It makes Todoroki think of warm cups of tea and fluffy rabbit ears. It’s…cute.
Especially when Midoriya is staring down at a notebook with intense focus, positively grinning as he shoots rapid-fire tattoo ideas at Todoroki.
“A sword?” Midoriya suggests.
“Mmm. That’s more Yaoyorozu’s thing than mine.”
“Really? I could draw up a design for her if she wants. Okay, so not that enthusiastic about weaponry…Maybe a cool snowflake pattern would work? You said you prefer winter right? And your hair is half-white—it would kind of match!”
Todoroki tilts his head. He does feel more at peace during the winter, and the design does sound pretty—but then he thinks of his mother, of her snow white hair, and isn’t sure whether he could handle another reminder of her on his skin.
“No.”
“How about a caduceus? It’s a pretty common tattoo among medical students.”
“I don’t want something just because it’s common,” Todoroki says, wrinkling his nose.
Midoriya stares at Todoroki for a long moment before he starts laughing so hard that he nearly falls down, wheezing something that sounds suspiciously like hipster. Todoroki leans over the counter and wonders whether he should be doing to help Midoriya, before narrowing his eyes at Midoriya’s words and leaving him to his own devices.
That’s how Yaoyorozu finds them a minute later: Todoroki feigning coldness while Midoriya giggles into his sketchbook, both of them red in the face from their efforts. Todoroki has a feeling that her eye roll is directed at him specifically, but she’s still kind enough to take the droopy bouquet from his hands, fix it, and hand if off to Midoriya so they can all get back to work.
It’s an easy routine. Midoriya drops by the shop every week with tattoo ideas, a notebook full of flower sketches, and a smile—and, in return, Todoroki rejects the ideas, admires the sketches, and finds himself gazing at Midoriya’s smile more and more with each passing week.
***
“Midoriya is coming,” Yaoyorozu says, craning her neck to look out the shop window. “Might want to comb your hair.”
Todoroki lets his head hit the counter, which probably does no favors for his messy hair. “Is he smiling?”
“Yes.”
“Damn it.”
“You don’t like his smile? I think it’s nice.”
Todoroki pouts. ‘Nice’ is too kind a word for Midoriya’s, frankly, lethal smile.
“It’s like being in the same room as the sun,” Todoroki sighs. When Yaoyorozu nudges him, he sits back up and she gives him a box of vases to unpack.
“I hope you don’t stare at the sun as often as you stare at Midoriya,” she says.
“They’re probably equally hazardous to my health,” Todoroki mutters. A moment later, he proves his point by nearly dropping the box of vases on his foot as Midoriya and his blinding smile walk into the shop.
Midoriya’s smile slips off his face, though, when he sees Todoroki struggling.
“Here, let me help!” Midoriya says, hurrying behind the counter and lifting the box out of his hands. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Todoroki says. His heart stutters at the utter ease with which Midoriya lifts the box full of heavy vases. “You’re…strong.”
Todoroki’s face burns while Midoriya stammers out a thank you. It’s only thanks to the fact that Todoroki has been trained in professionalism since he was five years old that the two of them aren’t standing there like that for the rest of the day.
“What kind of flowers do you need this week, Midoriya?” Todoroki manages.
Usually, Midoriya has a very precise answer to this question, as he bases it off of recent customers’ requests. This time, however, he only stammers again as he says, “Actually, I-I was kind of hoping you would pick?”
“Me?” Todoroki asks. He glances to Yaoyorozu—the person who actually knows anything about flowers—for help.
“Actually, Todoroki, I was going to meet Jirou for lunch, if you don’t mind watching the shop for a bit,” Yaoyorozu says, beginning to gather her things. “Would you mind handling this one?”
As she leaves, she gives him a wink, and Todoroki wonders what he did to deserve someone like Yaoyorozu. He also wonders if the shop will survive the hour with only himself running it.
“Why me?” Todoroki asks Midoriya. “I don’t even know who your clients are. Surely you would know what they want better than I do.”
“That’s not necessarily true. You see, to be a good tattoo artist, I can’t just consider my own perspective,” Midoriya explains, his voice steadying as they move onto a topic with which he’s more familiar. “Just like I have to study other artists and styles and equipment, I also have to study different ideas. I can’t just have a sketchbook full of flower tattoos that I think people want.” Midoriya’s lips quirk upward. “That’s how you end up getting an explosion tattoo from Kacchan or a caduceus from me. That’s why I want your perspective, Todoroki. I don’t want to just draw my flowers…I want to draw the kinds of flowers that you would pick out.”
Todoroki inhales sharply. He opens his mouth to respond, but finds he can hardly speak in the wake of Midoriya’s forthrightness. And, when he finally does, it’s with a forthrightness of his own that he hadn’t expected from himself.
“Did I ever tell you why I wanted to become a doctor, Midoriya?” he asks.
Midoriya shakes his head. “I know you mentioned not wanting to go into business like your dad, but not much else…”
“I want to be a doctor for the same reason you want to be a tattoo artist,” Todoroki says softly. “Or…similar reasons. When I was younger, I had to go to the hospital for a time. Not many of the people there considered my perspective on…” He presses his fingers to the edge of his scar. “…what happened. I want to be a pediatrician so that I can be the person who considers someone else’s perspective. Though…I’m not very good at it yet,” Todoroki admits.
“That’s so admirable, Todoroki…” Midoriya sighs. He gives a determined nod. “It doesn’t matter that you’re not very good at it yet. We can help each other improve! You, by picking out flowers for me, and me by…”
“Letting me play doctor?” Todoroki says dryly. “I appreciate it, Midoriya, but I’m not sure that anyone can help me be a better person.”
“That’s because you’re already a good person,” Midoriya says easily. “But I can share my perspective with you too. I could tell you about all my different tattoos. Or about all the times I’ve broken my arms.”
“Just how many times have you broken your arms?” Todoroki asks, not even able to think about the fact that Midoriya just said he’s a good person.
“Uh…just a few times.”
“Midoriya.”
As they walk through the shop together, Midoriya spins the tale of his, frankly, over-adventurous, impulsive childhood. He points to the tattoos on his hands, whose designs deliberately interweave with the scars there, rather than obscure them. His gestures become even more animated as he shows off the superhero tattoo on his scar-covered forearm.
Todoroki listens, feeling strangely satisfied with having the context for Midoriya’s tattoos. He’s only half-listening, however—most of his focus is on finding the perfect flowers for Midoriya. After all, Midoriya is graciously giving Todoroki his perspective with the expectation of Todoroki’s in return. The flowers need to be just right, the perfect distillation of Todoroki’s thoughts and ideas—
Out of the corner of his eye, Todoroki spots some sunflowers tucked away at the back of the shop. He finds himself disregarding all the half-baked ideas in his mind and grabbing the sunflowers on the spot.
“Here,” Todoroki says, not even bothering to put the flowers in a bouquet before offering them to Midoriya.
“Sunflowers, huh? I would have thought you’d go for something less common,” Midoriya teases.
“They reminded me of you,” Todoroki says honestly.
“O-oh?”
Of course. They’re bright, beautiful, and joyful, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. They’re just like the sun, Todoroki wants to say.
What Todoroki actually says is, “Same hair.”
Midoriya sputters, patting the wild green hair on his head that does, unfortunately, bear a passing resemblance to the large, wavy petals of the sunflowers.
“Same hair,” Midoriya giggles under his breath, clearly torn between a smile and a scowl at Todoroki’s comparison. “Your hair is messy too, you know.”
“Not as messy as yours,” Todoroki says, overcome with the strange desire to comb through that hair with his hands.
Midoriya tries to do the job for him, but as he runs a hand through his hair, he somehow messes it up even more, doing nothing to convince Todoroki that the sunflower comparison is inaccurate. Todoroki’s giggles soon join Midoriya’s, and the two of them are left laughing over flowers until the end of Midoriya’s break.
A few days later, Midoriya shows up to the flower shop with two sketches. One is a cartoonish drawing of Midoriya with sunflower petals for hair. The other is of Torodoki, with red and white flower petals covering his head instead of half-and-half hair.
Todoroki takes careful photos of both of the sketches. On an impulse, he sets the Midoriya one as his phone background. Midoriya grins and sets the Todoroki drawing as his background too, and Todoroki tries not to think about how that simple act nearly makes his heart burst out of his chest with fondness.
***
Ever since the sunflowers, Midoriya always asks Todoroki to pick out flowers for him. Todoroki takes the responsibility seriously, sometimes spending a whole hour searching for the perfect flower for Midoriya. Midoriya never seems to mind the wait. He only smiles all the brighter when Todoroki finally does find something he likes.
Right now, however, Midoriya’s lips are pursed in thought as he flips through his notebook. Todoroki tries to focus on picking out flowers rather than stare at Midoriya’s mouth. He is mostly unsuccessful.
“Have you ever thought about a flower tattoo?” Midoriya asks. “You do work in a flower shop; you must have a favorite.”
Todoroki tears his gaze away from Midoriya. He looks at the shelves of flowers, but nothing in particular jumps out at him. His brain fog has been acting up lately, making it difficult to think about anything, least of all flower arrangements.
“I don’t know if I have a favorite flower,” Todoroki admits. “I…don’t know that much about flowers at all, actually.”
Midoriya tilts his head. “But you’ve picked some out for me every week. You even knew what all of them symbolized.”
“I just pick whatever looks nice,” Todoroki says. Whatever reminds me of you. “And we have a cheat sheet with all the flower meanings on it.”
“Todoroki,” Midoriya says, his jaw dropping. “I can’t believe I’ve been buying my flowers from a charlatan.”
“Oh…” Todoroki fidgets and picks out a few flowers. He can’t remember precisely what they’re called. “Yaoyorozu won’t be here until later today, but if you’d prefer to wait for her…”
“No!” Midoriya says, waving his hands in protest. “It was just a joke—a bad one. I’m perfectly fine with you picking out the flowers, even if you’re not an expert. I mean, I’m not an expert either—that’s why we’re both here, remember? To learn more.” Midoriya traces his finger along something in his sketchbook. “I trust you, Todoroki.”
Todoroki fumbles over the flowers he’s holding. It suddenly feels as though he’s handling a precious, fragile artifact rather than a mere plant.
Midoriya trusts him. So few people have ever trusted Todoroki with…anything. Not anything that he wants, anyway. This thing—Midoriya’s trust—flutters in his chest, warm and delicate against Todoroki’s rib cage. Todoroki will do his best to care for it.
“Here,” he says, carefully handing the flowers to Midoriya. “They’re lilies. I don’t know what kind. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. They’re pretty.”
“They are,” Todoroki says, relieved that Midoriya approves of his choice. “I don’t have the cheat sheet in front of me, but I think they can mean a lot of different things, depending on what color they are: anything from passion to mourning.”
Midoriya chuckles. “That’s kind of vague, isn’t it?”
“There’s a reason I’m not very good at it.” Todoroki points at the white flowers in Midoriya’s hands. “These ones symbolize purity, I think.”
Midoriya runs a finger down one of the petals and smiles. “Might make for a nice tattoo. What do you think, Todoroki? Is this the one?”
Todoroki glances away. No one has ever thought the words purity and Todoroki in the same sentence. His scar itches, and—for a moment—he almost wishes that Midoriya weren’t here. Sure, Midoriya wants Todoroki’s perspective, but surely not this perspective: not the one that comes from the sad, bitter parts of Todoroki.
“I’m not sure how well it would suit me,” Todoroki murmurs.
“I guess,” Midoriya says, not sounding particularly convinced. He plucks the smallest lily of the bunch and tucks it behind Todoroki’s ear. “But it still looks pretty.”
Todoroki’s eyes widen at the brush of Midoriya’s fingers against his ear. He turns his head away, wondering if it’s already too late to hide his blush. Perhaps Midoriya had already felt how hot his cheeks are just from that brief contact.
He opens his mouth to try to say something—anything—when the door opens and a large family enters the shop.
“Sorry, I have to—” Todoroki gives Midoriya an apologetic nod and goes to attend to the customers.
Unfortunately, the family is a hassle to deal with, with overcomplicated requests that Todoroki is barely equipped to handle alone. A whole hour passes before Todoroki can even glance up from making bouquets and writing down the family’s lengthy order. By that time, Midoriya’s break is long since over, and Todoroki is left alone in the shop again.
Todoroki curses his luck. Why couldn’t he have just said something? Why is his brain so full of fog that he can’t even thank his friend for his kindness? Or at least give him a proper goodbye?
But, maybe he still can. He hasn’t visited Midoriya’s shop since their first meeting, but he knows it’s only a few blocks away. Todoroki hangs up his apron, closes the shop, and runs out the door, reasoning that his shift is over in fifteen minutes anyway.
When Todoroki enters Yuuei Tattoo for the second time, he has to blink as his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. As they do, Todoroki sees not Midoriya, but a man with wild blond hair glaring at him from the front desk. Ah, so this is the infamous “Kacchan.”
“Oh great,” Bakugou growls at him. “It’s the fucking flower idiot Deku’s been mooning over.”
“How did you--”
Bakugou jabs his pen toward Todoroki’s ear. Todoroki reaches upward and—oh. The lily is still there. Todoroki had forgotten about it during the rush at the flower shop.
“Not a lot of people walking around wearing flowers and half-and-half hair like yours,” Bakugou sneers. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Midoriya,” Todoroki says, honestly.
“No shit,” Bakugou says, unimpressed. “Too bad. I made Deku leave for the day. He makes stupid mistakes when he’s upset.”
Todoroki frowns. “He’s upset?”
“God, do you really need this spelled out for you, half-and-half? He’s probably dying of embarrassment after visiting your shitty shop.”
Oh. Of course Todoroki had embarrassed him. Midoriya had given Todoroki his kindness, his trust. He’d tried to comfort the parts of Todoroki that are hurt and bitter, only for Todoroki to ignore him the moment he became distracted.
You’re insufferable, Shouto, Todoroki hears in his father’s voice. He hears it echo throughout his mind all the way home, and then—as luck would have it—he hears it again when he listens to a voicemail his father left for him earlier that day. The weight of that voice is enough to make Todoroki falter, and the fog that he’s been fighting off for days quietly creeps in.
Todoroki’s skin feels hot. He knows without trying that lying down on his cotton sheets would be a nightmare right now. He sighs, sends a text to Yaoyorozu saying that he probably won’t be at work tomorrow, and collapses onto his couch.
***
Todoroki is woken up by a knock at the door. He rubs the sleep from his eyes—perhaps a bit too vigorously. He knows that Yaoyorozu wouldn’t approve, but his skin still feels like shit and the rubbing helps.
Another, more timid knock at the door.
“I’m coming,” Todoroki mumbles, dragging himself off the couch. It feels like he’s moving through fog, but he manages to get to the door and opens it to find—
“Midoriya,” Todooki breathes.
Midoriya gives him a weak wave. “G-good afternoon, Todoroki…”
“Good afternoon...” Todoroki nods dumbly at the bouquet in Midoriya’s hands. “You bought more sunflowers.”
“Y-yeah,” Midoriya says. He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “I wanted to see you today, so I visited the shop, but you weren’t there, and Yaoyorozu said you were sick. I was just going to leave, but she said that she wouldn’t have time to check in on you today and wanted me to do it instead, so she gave me your address and—” Midoriya’s face is bright red. “I’m sorry if this isn’t okay! But I was pretty worried too, to be honest. You seemed kind of down yesterday.”
There’s…a lot to unpack in that monologue: far too much for Todoroki’s fog-addled mind to really know what to do with.
“Why sunflowers?” Todoroki asks, deciding that it’s easier to focus on that particular detail.
Midoriya’s face goes even redder. “I-I wanted to bring you some get-well flowers. I know you said you didn’t have a favorite, but Yaoyorozu said you would like these.”
Oh. Well. She wasn’t wrong, was she?
“Thank you,” Todoroki murmurs, taking the flowers from Midoriya. He leans down to sniff them and some of the petals brush against his cheek. He’s surprised to find that they’re soft enough not to scratch his oversensitive skin.
Midoriya follows him inside. Todoroki manages to find a plastic vase, but filling it proves to be a challenge. His fingers fumble over the faucet’s knobs, and his skin can’t seem to tolerate any temperature of water, no matter how tepid.
“Here, I can do it,” Midoriya says kindly, taking the vase from his hands.
“Thanks,” Todoroki mumbles. He leans against the counter and watches listlessly as Midoriya fills the vase. It seems so easy when he does it. Maybe Todoroki should just go back to bed.
Midoriya gently sets the flowers in the vase and places the vase on Todoroki’s kitchen counter. He fidgets with the arrangement for a moment before asking, “A-are you sure you’re doing okay?”
Todoroki shrugs. “I was going to ask the same of you.”
“Me? But I’m not sick.”
“No. But…I upset you yesterday.”
“W-what—how do you figure that?” Midoriya says, sounding honestly bewildered.
“Bakugou said,” Todoroki says, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t understand Midoriya’s confusion—it all seems pretty obvious, even to Todoroki. After all, the only reason Midoriya has to worry and bring him flowers in the first place is because Todoroki displayed such concerning behavior. Even without Bakugou’s comments, Todoroki could have concluded that he’s the one at fault here.
Midoriya’s lips purse in thought. “’Bakugou said’…But he told me…” He groans.
“What?”
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding. I was upset yesterday,” Midoriya mumbles. “But not at you. I was upset because you seemed kind of on edge, and then I did the…thing with the flower behind your ear, and you seemed kind of off put by it, and…I wasn’t mad at you, Todoroki, I was just worried about you and embarrassed for myself. As a matter of fact, I’m still embarrassed for myself and would appreciate it if we just pretended like yesterday didn’t happen.”
“Is that all?” Todoroki says softly. A knot of dread eases in his stomach at Midoriya’s words. He didn’t hurt Midoriya. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed. The flower thing was fine.”
“Really?” Midoriya says. His smile returns and kindles something warm in Todoroki’s chest.
“Of course. Here.” Todoroki plucks a sunflower from the vase and tucks it behind Midoriya’s ear. “Now we can both be embarrassed. I should probably be embarrassed anyway, for making you worry so much.”
While a lily can be comfortably tucked behind Todoroki’s ear, a sunflower is far too large to do anything but dominate Midoriya’s face. Midoriya sputters and laughs as he struggles to adjust the flower so that it only obscures part of his field of vision.
Todoroki smiles. It doesn’t seem to occur to Midoriya that he could just take the flower out of his hair.
“Same hair,” Midoriya says, eventually giving up on the endeavor and pointing to the flower with a wry grin. “Thank you, Todoroki. You’re a good friend.”
Todoroki swallows heavily. “You too.”
“And, as a good friend, I’m still worried about you. Really, how are you doing?”
Todoroki groans. Even if he wanted to, he’s not sure how to articulate how alien and gross his own skin and thoughts feel to him right now.
Eventually, he settles on saying, “I really want a tattoo.”
Midoriya gives a chuckle. He reaches into his bag. “Hold on…I might actually have something that could help.”
“Do you keep tattoo ink in your bag?”
“No, because I’m not giving you a tattoo,” Midoriya says. He pulls some markers and pens out of his bag. “Here. Whenever I’m not sure whether I want a tattoo, I draw it on and see how I feel about it. I know it’s not the same thing, but…maybe it’s worth a try?”
“I suppose,” Todoroki says. He grabs a marker, fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to tolerate a pen right now. But, after a moment’s thought, he hands the marker back to Midoriya. “You do it. I can’t draw.”
“Sure.” Midoriya uncaps the marker. “What would you like?”
“Whatever you want.”
The two of them settle on Todoroki’s couch. Todoroki find sit difficult not to stare at Midoriya while he draws. It’s not even that Midoriya is attractive—though he is that—but rather that it’s so unusual to have someone present during his episodes. It takes a strange kind of effort for Todoroki not to just tell Midoriya to leave.
To be honest, Todoroki has no idea why Midoriya doesn’t leave of his own accord. He isn’t exactly pleasant company right now. Todoroki shifts in place and messes up Midoriya’s design when the marker irritates his skin; he forgets to offer Midoriya any food or water until the latter’s stomach growls; and he often zones out while Midoriya is talking and forgets to vocalize his responses. It takes so much effort to let Midoriya stay—to just be around Midoriya.
And that in itself is unusual too. Throughout Todoroki’s life, most things have been effortless for him, if only because he was raised to succeed without putting forth effort. The downside of that is that it’s remarkably easy to drift when things are effortless: when nothing demands your attention. The effort that it takes to be with Midoriya—to navigate Midoriya’s poking and prodding, to keep up with Midoriya’s wit—makes it strangely easy to stay present.
“There,” Midoriya says, finishing the drawing with a flourish. “How’s that for a temporary tattoo?”
Todoroki hums and examines his arm. Most of it is dominated by an improvised, geometric snowflake design. Dancing around his wrists are sunflowers, and, near Todoroki’s elbow, Midoriya has squeezed in a little superhero giving him a thumbs up.
“It’s lovely,” Todoroki says softly.
“Does it help?”
“I think so…Though, I think a real tattoo would have been more satisfying.”
Midoriya rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky I’m not the kind of tattoo artist who will give someone a tattoo no matter what state they’re in.”
“I don’t know,” Todoroki says, attempting a smile. “Bakugou may be crass, but I think I would have looked pretty good with an explosion on my bicep.”
Midoriya snorts. He caps the marker and rolls up his sleeve to reveal—
A small tattoo of an explosion on his bicep.
Todoroki raises his eyebrow. “I thought you were joking.”
“Nope.” Midoriya chuckles. “Believe me, Todoroki…I’m speaking from a place of experience when I say it’s better to be in a good headspace when you’re asking for something permanently tattooed on your body.”
Todoroki traces a finger along the explosion. The linework is impeccable, but there’s a roughness to the ink that betrays the negative headspace that Midoriya is referencing.
“What happened?” Todoroki asks.
“Between me and Kacchan? A lot,” Midoriya says. “But on that day…we were so angry and frustrated: him especially. I guess tattooing each other seemed like a reasonable way to let that all out. It was dumb, but the two of us were having a rough time, when we did it. Someone we looked up to—the guy who owns Yuuei—had just gotten sick. He’s fine now, but…”
Midoriya shrugs. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “I don’t mind it anymore. That guy we look up to—he used to say that he got his tattoos as reminders. He said that seeing them on his skin helped him trick the fear inside him. I guess I learned to see this one the same way. Sometimes a weird tattoo reminds you of how far you’ve come since you got it, you know?”
“I don’t.”
“Yeah. I guess you don’t have any tattoos, huh?”
“No, it’s not just that, I…” Todoroki cups a hand over his scar. “This is permanent reminder too. And I…When I look at it, I don’t see how far I’ve come, Midoriya.” Todoroki lets his hand drop to his lap. “But maybe that’s just because I haven’t come very far at all.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” Midoriya says, frowning. “I may have only met you recently, but you seem like you’ve come a long way since you were younger. You’re living on your own and taking your own path, despite what your father wants from you.”
Todoroki stares at the snowflake design on his arm. “Midoriya. I’ve only told you a little bit about my father. Did you know that he’s responsible for my scar?”
“I…didn’t. I’m sorry, Todoroki.”
“You shouldn’t be. Still, you have to understand. You say I’ve come so far, but I still see my father every time I look at my face. I still have these-” Todoroki waves a hand at himself “-episodes that worry you and Yaoyorozu. And it doesn’t matter if it’s medicine or business—my father is well-known enough that I will always be recognized as his son. My achievements will always be his, and I…None of it is mine,” Todoroki admits quietly. “Even my skin sometimes isn’t…”
Midoriya grabs Todoroki’s hand in his own.
“Of course it’s yours,” Midoriya says fiercely. “Todoroki, I’ve seen you! You’re a person who considers other people’s perspectives, even if it’s hard. You stick flowers behind my ear and pick up Yaoyorozu’s shifts when she’s sick. And you work hard to do well in school even though you could maybe skate by on your family name if you wanted to. None of that sounds like your father, Todoroki. It’s yours. It’s not his; it’s yours.”
Midoriya’s voice is so terrifyingly sincere that Todoroki isn’t sure whether to shrink away or embrace him. He settles for the latter, squeezing Midoriya’s hand in his own and letting his head fall onto Midoriya’s shoulder. Midoriya lays his head on top of Todoroki’s in return.
Todoroki sighs. Midoriya’s weight calms something tangled and anxious in his chest. Even Midoriya’s stupid sunflower hair tickling his nose somehow feels calming.
Todoroki sneezes.
“Oh my god,” Midoriya gasps. “You sneeze like a kitten. That’s precious.”
“I’m precious? You’re the one with a bunny on your chest,” Todoroki snorts, tapping Midoriya’s collarbone.
“Guess we’re both just adorable.”
“I guess so.” Todoroki smiles. He glances at the bunny ears on Midoriya’s chest and thinks about what tattoo he would get to make himself happy. Nothing really comes to mind. Sure, Midoriya makes him happy, but Todoroki doesn’t need a tattoo of Midoriya. Midoriya is right there.
“Tell me about your other tattoos,” Todoroki says, wanting to hear Midoriya’s voice again.
Midoriya happily obliges. He shows Todoroki the butterfly on his shoulder in honor of his mother, the moon on his hip in honor of his friend Uraraka, the small sneaker on his ankle in honor of his friend Iida. Midoriya’s smile grows with each tattoo that he shares, as if nothing could make him happier than showing off the symbols of his loved ones.
“I’ve never really been able to make it on my own,” Midoriya explains. “I’ve always needed help. So, I have to honor the people who have supported me in whatever way I can. Tattoos seemed the most fitting, I guess.”
Todoroki is filled with a longing so powerful that, even in his current state, he recognizes it for what it is. I want to be honored on your skin too. It’s a selfish longing, one that should chafe against Todoroki’s oversensitive skin—but, instead, Todoroki feels it settle comfortably in his chest.
He may want to be that important to Midoriya, but, above all else: he simply wants Midoriya.
“What about this one?” Todoroki asks, pointing at Midoriya’s wrist.
Midoriya flips his wrist over. Todoroki has seen the tattoo at a glance, but it’s rarely been visible enough for him to fully examine.
“‘I am here,’” Todoroki reads, running a finger along the script.
“It’s something my mentor once said to me,” Midoriya says. “It’s a reminder of what I aspire to be. I’m going to show the world that I am here and make them feel better with my art. That’s what a tattoo artist does.”
What I aspire to be…Todoroki traces the kanji with his thumb and wonders if perhaps he’s been asking the wrong question this entire time. Maybe instead of asking what kind of tattoo he wants, he should have been asking Midoriya why people get tattoos.
“I want a reminder too,” Todoroki says. “Of what I aspire to be, of…how far I’ve come. Midoriya…” Todoroki gives a determined nod. “Will you help me design a tattoo?”
At Todoroki’s words, Midoriya gives the brightest smile that Todoroki has ever seen. It’s brighter than the sunflower in his hair or its namesake in the sky—it might be brighter than anything that Todoroki has ever laid eyes on.
If Todoroki thought that a tattoo could ever capture that smile’s warmth, he would get it inked on his skin in an instant.
“I would love to,” Midoriya beams. “It would be an honor to give you a tattoo, Todoroki Shouto.”
***
Todoroki isn’t known for being an especially patient person. But, when your tattoo artist is renowned throughout the region, apparently you have to be on a waiting list just to get his attention.
“Can’t you just tell them I’m your friend?” Todoroki sighs, blowing his bangs out of his face. The two of them are hanging out in the back of Yuuei Tattoo, because it’s slightly less humid than the flower shop. “I want a tattoo now.”
“Then make your own,” Midoriya says, tossing Todoroki a marker. He doesn’t look up from his sketchpad. Midoriya’s always been the sort to pour over his sketches, but he’s been especially glued to his notebook ever since they started talking about Todoroki’s tattoo design.
Todoroki tilts his head. It’s not a particularly complicated design. He doesn’t get why Midoriya needs so much time to work on it.
“What are you working on?” Todoroki says. He leans his chin on top of Midoriya’s head and tries to peek at the sketchbook, but Midoriya scrambles to cover it up.
Todoroki huffs. “If it’s my tattoo, I should get to see it.”
“It’s not yours. It’s a different project I’ve been working on.”
“So? I want to see.”
“It’s a work in progress,” Midoriya insists.
Todoroki huffs again and taps insistently at Midoriya’s collarbone. It’s an unfortunate habit that he picked up the night Midoriya dropped by his apartment. He’s yet to find the willpower to break it, however. Tapping on Midoriya’s bunny tattoo just feels too nice, reminding Todoroki of cute and happy things.
Not that he has to look far to find cute and happy things since meeting Midoriya.
“You’re hopeless,” Midoriya says, shooting a grin up at Todoroki.
It’s quite possible that he is. Ever since Midoriya drew on his arm, Todoroki has given up on preserving whatever space remained between them. Todoroki slips the largest flowers he can find behind Midoriya’s ear, Midoriya doodles on his arm while he studies for midterms, and the two of them frequent each other’s shops often enough that Yaoyorozu and even Bakugou hardly bat an eye at their presence anymore.
“You should pick out some roses for him,” Yaoyorozu says, after Midoriya makes it a point to give Todoroki a bento the day after Todoroki complained about not having time to prepare lunches during exams week. “Or perhaps some carnations.”
“I have,” Todoroki says, examining the bento. “Those were some of the first flowers he bought.”
“I meant that you should give him some, not sell him some.”
Todoroki feels his skin grow hot. It does that a lot lately, whenever he thinks about Midoriya. It isn’t an unpleasant heat, though, like that of his episodes. Rather, it feels comfortable, warming Todoroki to the bone: making him feel safe.
…Yeah, he should probably buy Midoriya some roses or something. Midoriya likes roses, he thinks. Todoroki can imagine slipping a rose behind Midoriya’s ear, leaning in close to smell it, and then moving down to Midoriya’s face—
God, Todoroki wishes he could dunk his burning face into a vase full of water. Instead, he has to settle for Yaoyorozu fanning him lightly while he stumbles through another customer interaction.
That heat is something that he didn’t really take into account when asking Midoriya for a tattoo. Truth be told, it isn’t a factor he contemplates at all until he’s already sitting in the tattoo chair, Midoriya’s face only feet away from his own.
“You okay?” Midoriya asks, as he checks his needles. “Your face looks a bit red.”
“I’m fine,” Todoroki croaks. He clears his throat and wonders whether his dignity will survive being the sole subject of Midoriya’s focus like this. Judging by how warm his face already feels, probably not. “Just a bit nervous.”
“Most people are nervous their first time,” Midoriya reassures him. He grins and holds up his wrist with the kanji tattoo on it. “But it’s okay. ‘I am here!’”
God, he’s cute. It really isn’t helping Todoroki’s blushing situation.
Todoroki offers his left wrist to Midoriya, letting his eyes slip shut when Midoriya places a steady hand on top of it.
“I trust you,” Todoroki says, probably too honestly.
Midoriya inhales sharply, but only gives Todoroki’s wrist a brief squeeze before getting to work.
Getting a tattoo from Midoriya isn’t really that different from hanging out with Midoriya in any other capacity. Midoriya still smiles and chats with him, not seeming to mind that Todoroki mostly answers with the occasional nod. Todoroki’s wrist rests in Midoriya’s grasp now, but even that sort of contact isn’t unusual ever since Todoroki started letting Midoriya draw on his skin.
It is similar to how they usually interact, yes—but it feels different. There is a needle now, one that scratches and vibrates across Todoroki’s skin, even as it’s guided by Midoriya’s careful hand. The scratching sensation reminds Todoroki of why he’d first walked into Yuuei Tattoo. He’d wanted to feel something different, something other than burning or fog. This is certainly that.
But, even more present than the vibration of the needle, there is: the warm pressure of Midoriya’s gaze upon him, the pink of Midoriya’s tongue poking out of his mouth as he concentrates, and the kanji that bloom like flowers across Todoroki’s wrist. Those things are what leave Todoroki warm and buzzing by the end of the session.
“How was it?” Midoriya asks. “Not too much pain? Wrists are a pretty sensitive spot for a tattoo.”
Todoroki flexes his hand. There’s a dull ache there, but it can’t compare to the pleasant hum in his veins. “It’s fine.”
He lifts his right hand to trace at the outside of the kanji. It’s such a simple tattoo, but Todoroki can’t help but be left breathless at the sight of it. This is his. His way of tricking the fear inside him, his reminder of what he aspires to be. Of what Midoriya says he can be.
There, perfectly engraved on his skin, are two simple words: it’s yours.
“It’s perfect,” Todoroki says. He wipes at the tears gathering in his eyes. “Midoriya…Thank you.”
“Of course,” Midoriya says softly. When he wipes away the excess ink, it’s with the most care that anyone has ever shown Todoroki. When he wraps Todoroki’s wrist in plastic wrap, it’s as if Todoroki were something precious. “Let’s sit in the back for a bit while you rest.”
Todoroki nods, hardly able to glance away from his tattoo. But then Midoriya smiles again, and he can hardly glance away from that either. It’s difficult to decide where to rest his gaze.
They enter the back of the shop, and Todoroki decides to look at neither, far too overwhelmed by both the tattoo and Midoriya to keep his eyes on them. Instead, he flips through the sketchbook Midoriya left out on the counter. It feels like the safest option available. His heart probably won’t burst looking through a sketchbook.
“You’re pretty good at this, you know,” Midoriya says. He rummages through the cabinet for some ointment and other supplies for Todoroki. “I think I saw you smiling at the end, even though the tattoo was on your wrist. Some people say that getting tattoos can be kind of addictive—am I going to see you back here soon, Todoroki?”
“Of course,” Todoroki says easily. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
Midoriya begins sputtering, and Todoroki chuckles. Despite his words, he has no particular desire for another tattoo, but—he knows better than to try to predict the future where Midoriya is involved. After all, before they met, Todoroki had never even thought about getting a tattoo.
Perhaps he’ll come up with another design idea looking through Midoriya’s sketchbook. It’s hard not to feel inspired by it. Todoroki has only seen snippets of it before. Having the whole thing laid out in front of him now is a marvel. He admires the intricate geometric designs at the beginning of the book, chuckles at the superheroes and pop culture icons that dominate most of it, smiles at the flowers that show up near the end, and—
“Oh,” Todoroki breathes.
“Huh?” Midoriya looks over and stiffens when he sees what Todoroki is looking at. “O-oh. I—you found—that’s, um—”
“Your work in progress,” Todoroki realizes. “I saw that there were flowers in it, but I hadn’t known…”
He hadn’t known that flowers this beautiful even existed. Perhaps they don’t, outside of Midoriya’s imagination. In Todoroki’s shop, flowers are mostly static things, waiting for him to pick them up or water them. But here, in Midoriya’s sketchbook, beautiful red-and-white lilies and sunflowers dance across the page, weaving together as if they were playing. Midoriya doesn’t normally ink his sketches, but he inked this one: transforming the page with vibrant, bright colors that pop and shine on the page.
Todoroki doesn’t know much about art, flowers, or tattoos, but even he can tell that this drawing is just like Midoriya’s rabbit tattoo. It’s apparent with every playful line: that this was drawn for the express purpose of making someone happy.
Todoroki’s not sure he’s ever felt as happy as he does right now.
“Same hair,” Todoroki manages, tracing a finger across the red-and-white lilies.
“Same hair,” Midoriya agrees, giving a nervous laugh. “I guess now is as good a time as ever to admit it…Yours isn’t the only tattoo I’ve been working on lately.”
Todoroki clears his throat. “Oh?”
“It’s for me. Sort of. I haven’t actually gotten it tattooed yet,” Midoriya says. He takes a deep breath. “And, if you don’t want me to, I won’t actually get it, but—I think you’re the kind of person who deserves to be honored in a tattoo, Todoroki. You’re so dedicated and kind, so I drew that—for you. Well, for me, in honor of you.”
Midoriya looks like he’s about to pass out unless he takes another breath, so Todoroki stands and taps him lightly against the collarbone.
Midoriya laughs, but inhales. He shakes his head, smiling. “Do you want to see it?”
“See it…?”
“Well, you know. Before I get tattoos, I like to draw them on with marker and see how I feel about them. So I did that with this one too…”
“Please,” Todoroki says, not caring how desperate he must sound. “Show it to me.”
Midoriya gives a sharp nod. With shaky hands, he lifts up his shirt to reveal—
Red-and-white lilies, resting right above his heart. Todoroki hadn’t known it was possible, but the red and white ink is even more beautiful and vibrant against Midoriya’s skin than it is in the drawing.
Todoroki’s hand reaches out without his permission to touch the slightly smeared marker ink. Miodirya inhales sharply when he touches him and—chagrined—Todoroki makes to pull away. But, before he can, Midoriya places his own hand on top of his.
Todoroki sighs and wiggles a finger against Midoriya’s chest. If he knew Morse code, he thinks he probably would have started tapping out his adoration in the language.
Though he’s pretty sure that, by now, that adoration is apparent to Midoriya regardless.
“So?” Todoroki says softly.
“So what?” Midoriya says, staring at where their hands rest across his chest.
“You said that you draw these tattoos to see how you feel about them.” Todoroki gives the lilies a gentle tap. “How do you feel about this one?”
“I like it.” Midoriya grins, a blush dusting across his freckles. “I like you, Todoroki.”
“I like you too, Midoriya.”
Midoriya’s grin widens, and Todoroki can’t help but adore him. Midoriya’s shirt slips back down as Todoroki adjusts their hands. Not being able to see Midoriya’s chest is an unfortunate loss, but the heat of Midoriya’s palm in his own more than makes up for it.
“I think I need you to design me another tattoo after all,” Todoroki says, squeezing Midoriya’s hand in his own.
“Oh?”
Midoriya steps closer so that they’re standing chest-to-chest. Todoroki can feel Midoriya’s heartbeat like this. His own heart squeezes in his chest with the knowledge that, when Midoriya’s heart beats, it beats below red-and-white lilies.
“Of course,” Todoroki says. “If I deserve to be honored with a tattoo, then you certainly do.”
Midoriya giggles, and Todoroki can do nothing more than lean down to kiss him. Midoriya’s lips are soft and sweet against his own. It almost undoes Todoroki. He buzzes with an intensity that a tattoo needle can’t even touch; his cheeks heat with a warmth that sates something deep inside him; and, if his skin itches now, it is not because of his past, but because he yearns for more of Midoriya’s touch in the future.
“What did you have in mind?” Midoriya breathes, when they finally pull away. As breathless as he is, though, he keeps peppering Todoroki’s lips with little pecks, so that Todoroki can mostly only answer in single syllables.
“I. Was. Thinking. Sun. Flowers.”
That is enough to make Midoriya pull away more fully, to make him beam brightly enough that Todoroki wonders if this man truly is the sun.
Well, if he is, then he’s Todoroki’s sun now. Todoroki places a kiss at his forehead and nuzzles Midoriya’s soft, wavy, sunflower hair.
Midoriya hums happily under Todoroki’s ministrations. “You know, I get asked to tattoo sunflowers more often than you’d think.” He laughs. “Sure it’s not too common for you?”
Todoroki raises an eyebrow. “As if something so amazing could ever be called common.”
“Then sunflowers it is.”
“Good.” Todoroki leans down to press a kiss at Midoriya’s nose, his freckles, and his lips before pressing a hand over Midoriya’s heart: where red-and-white lilies wait for him.