Work Text:
Wednesday 8:30 AM
hey love, can’t wait for our date this Friday! Ochako told me Paris is beautiful this time of year, so do you think we can just walk around after we eat? pleeeeeeeaasseeee?
Wednesday 4:23 PM
wait are we supposed to wear suits?!?! iida said it was French etiquette but i don’t think it is right?!?! will they kick me out if i show up w a hoodie and jeans?!?!
Thursday 9:34 AM
so sorry if youre asleep, but i just wanted to tell you that i love you <33 i cant wait to see you tomorrow!
Thursday 6:12 PM
shoto are you ok? yaoyorozu said she called you a bunch of times but you aren’t picking up. is something wrong? are you not feeling good? i can come over right now if you want.
Today 10:57 AM
babe plz respond, if you don’t wanna talk to me thats fine, just let me know youre alright? my flight landed last night so i’ll be at your hotel in an hour ok?
i’m fine i just don’t feel very well
i don’t think i want to go out today
i’m scared that they’ll all look at me
yeah ok i’ll be ready when you get here
oh thats great! i cant wait!! I’ll see you in a bit, love youuuuuuu <33333
Todoroki exhaled shakily. He could barely read the text, the letters blurring together the more he tried to focus on it, swimming in a sea of white and blue and grey. A tear wormed its way down his cheek, but it was only because the screen was too bright and his head ached and he didn’t get much sleep last night. There was absolutely no other reason he would be crying.
He slid the phone away from himself and leaned over the sink, hands clutching the edges of the basin, peering down into the drain like he expected something to come crawling out. His breath came in raspy pants, the only sound in the solitary hotel room. His body itched with discomfort, prickles of cold trailing down his spine, making him wish he could jump out of his own skin.
He glanced up, mismatched eyes taking in his ragged appearance. Hair ruffled and messy, bluish-purple bags under his eyes, lips bleeding slightly where he bit down too hard.
He looked terrible.
yeah ok i’ll be ready when you get here…
When was Midoriya arriving again? Thirty minutes? An hour? Two hours?
Todoroki couldn’t remember.
He couldn’t remember a lot of things.
He couldn’t remember the mad rush from the airport to his hotel room. It was just a chaotic blur of pulling his hoodie low to cover his face, slipping passed people like a ghost, darting from one shadowy alley to the next. He had caught more than enough suspicious glances, but it was better than the alternative. Better than that look they would give him if they ever saw his face.
But now he was exposed, vulnerable. He wouldn’t be able to hide behind the darkness of night, or the confusion of an airport, or the subtle safety of a sweatshirt. He was going out into broad daylight. On a date of all things. And even though he’d rather die than let anyone see his face, he couldn’t just call off something Midoriya had been looking forward to for weeks.
Todoroki bit down on his lip again to ground himself, taking a twisted satisfaction from the jolt of pain and the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he released his grip on the edge of the sink, barely noticing the tiny, crescent shaped imprints on his palms. Slowly, hands trembling, he combed through his hair, parting and re-parting it, fighting the tears pressing against the backs of his eyes.
He silently cursed himself. He should have stayed home instead of cutting his hair the other day, should have let his bangs grow out more, should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to hide.
Carefully, Todoroki tilted his head forward, letting the strands of fiery red brush his skin, covering the ugly brown flesh around his left eye. But no matter which way he arranged it, there was always a tiny bit of burn tissue peeking out from behind the curtain of hair, a tiny bit of evidence exposed to the world.
A tiny bit was all it would take.
The eyes would follow him the second he stepped out of the room. The maid, the bellhop, the receptionist, the hotel residents, the Parisians, the waiters, everyone.
Some would do that side-eye trick, peeking out from the corners of their eyes, thinking they’re being subtle. But he’d notice. He always notices. It’s hard not to notice the burning feeling that spreads over his skin when they look. Like the scar is rebranding itself onto his face.
Some would try not to stare, but they would anyway, looking at him with a sickening mixture of horror and pity and disgust. Eyes wide and uncomprehending because “young people are so foolish and reckless, what stupid risk did you take to get a scar like that.”
If only they knew. The only stupid risk he had taken was daring to comfort his mother.
His whole body shuddered. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes followed the edge of his scar, the darker skin creeping half-way down his cheek before weaving around his ear and disappearing under his bangs. With a shaky hand, he reached up and traced it, breath hitching when he made the jump from smooth, pale skin to charred, blistered scar tissue.
Even after so long he could still feel the tell-tale warmth, a faint echo of the searing heat that had pressed into his skin. Could still smell the sharp aroma of ginger and lemon, the scent he used to think of as home. Could still hear his own screams in the back of his mind, muffled and foggy like a distant memory, yet so clear he could almost taste it. Could still see that blank look in his mother’s eyes, the emptiness that told him whoever was standing in front of him was not his Mama.
Mama had disappeared before he was even born.
Todoroki flinched when strong arms were wrapped around his waist, a sudden surge of fear washing over him. Images of angry eyes and teary faces and merciless hands flashed through his mind. For a moment, he was six years old again and just realizing that maybe his Mama wasn’t as safe as he thought she was.
“Hey, it’s ok, it’s just me.”
Todoroki immediately went limp, sagging in his boyfriend’s arms like all the energy had been drained out of him. Midoriya slowly lowered them to the floor, pulling Todoroki’s head to his chest and leaning against the bathroom wall.
He had half a mind to wonder how the hell his boyfriend had gotten in, Todoroki had the only key card. But those thoughts were shoved into the back of his mind because Midoriya smelled like vanilla and coconut, and his arms were the only things Todoroki could trust. After all he’d been through, Todoroki wasn’t even sure what home was anymore, but if he had to guess he’d bet it was this. The feeling of Midoriya’s fingertips trailing up and down his back, the softness of his skin, the quiet whispers of “i’m here, you’re safe” that made his head less fuzzy.
“Shoto, what happened…?” Todoroki winced. He knew it was coming, but he wished Midoriya hadn’t asked. It took all his willpower to not look up. Knew that if he did, Midoriya would give him that soft look and Todoroki wouldn’t be able to hold his tongue. Everything would come out and Midoriya would realize that nothing had changed. Absolutely nothing. He was still a scared little boy being chased by demons and no matter how fast he ran, they would always catch him.
Always.
Midoriya sighed. “You don’t have to tell me. I’m just...I’m worried…”
He stared at the bathroom tiles, tracing the edges of one with his finger, trying to ignore the twist of guilt. He had made his boyfriend worry. All because of the most goddamn idiotic thing in the whole world.
“I just want to know if you’re…” Midoriya paused for a second, pulling away from him. Their eyes met and Todoroki was hit with the full-force of those green eyes. “Not…’ok’...but...just…”
He took a deep breath, frustration written all over his face. Todoroki instinctively thought that the anger was aimed at him, but he knew it wasn’t. Midoriya wanted to make it all better and it frustrated him that he couldn’t find the right words. But he was trying. And if Midoriya was trying then shouldn’t he try too?
“‘M scared they’re gonna look at me…” Todoroki whispered, picking at one of the strings of Midoriya’s hoodie. “They always look at me.”
Midoriya tipped his chin up, fingers brushing Todoroki’s jaw, brows furrowing in concern. “But you seem fine in Japan.”
“‘S ‘cause it’s Japan,” he mumbled, “No one looks anymore. And yeah, ‘m used to ‘em looking, but ‘m so sick of it. I jus’ want to walk down the damn street ‘thout someone looking at me. I jus’ want everyone to stop looking at me.”
Midoriya made a sad sound, wrapping his arms around the other boy’s neck and tucking Todoroki’s head under his chin. “Everyone…?”
“Yeah, everyone. Everyone looks at me with pity in their eyes like ’m some lost puppy and I jus’ want it to stop.”
“I don’t look at you like that.”
Todoroki froze for a moment, fiddling with the hem of Midoriya’s hoodie. “You...You can look…”
“And Yaoyorozu definitely doesn’t look at you like that. She’s always looked up to you, you know.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, racking his brain for a moment when Momo had looked at him with anything but kindness.
“Sh-She can look too, I guess…”
Midoriya smiled, running a hand through Todoroki’s hair. He leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut, relishing in the feeling of scarred fingers brushing over his cheek. “And I don’t think Bakugou has the capability to pity anyone. He won’t admit it, but he really does respect you. Though, he respects Ochako most for obvious reasons…”
“I know what you’re trying to do,” Todoroki scowled, pressing his face into his boyfriend’s neck, arms tightening around his waist.
“Huh?” Todoroki scoffed at the innocent tone, nuzzling into Midoriya’s skin and breathing in the comforting scent of his lotion.
“Trying to be a good boyfriend by making me feel better.”
“Guilty,” he laughed, eyes crinkling, and Todoroki could feel the giggles buzzing in Midoriya’s throat. He took a moment to let the sound roll over him, warming him up and filling in all the empty spaces in his heart.
“The point is,” Midoriya whispered, thumb rubbing circles on the nape of Todoroki’s neck, “yeah, there are people who look at you with pity. And...I think there will always be those kinds of people. But, there are so many people who don’t. People who see passed your scars. People who see you.”
Todoroki’s eyes widened as Midoriya pushed him away, fingers coming up to glide over his burned cheek, brushing over his scar like it was just another patch of skin. “Despite what you think, you are more than this. It will always be there, and it will always be a part of you. But that’s all it is. Just another part of you.”
His voice was low and soft and gentle. Every word like a breath of air. Making him feel a little less like he was drowning and more like he was just floating aimlessly in the middle of the ocean.
And Midoriya was the only thing tugging him back to shore.
“And I think you know there’s no part of you I don’t love.” He leaned in, breath ghosting over Todoroki’s nose, pressing his lips to the skin just under his left eye.
When he pulled away, Todoroki could still feel it. The tingle of warmth left behind. And for once in his life, it was a good warmth. A safe warmth.
“I can’t promise that other people won’t stare or pity you. But I can promise that I never will.”
Todoroki blinked, blushing slightly under the intensity of Midoriya’s gaze, shocked at the confidence in his words. Where did that awkward little boy go?
“We can stay in today, maybe eat ice cre-”
“No!” Midoriya jolted as he was cut off, staring at Todoroki with surprise. The heterochromatic boy flushed, taking a deep, shuddering breath before setting his jaw. “I-I want to go out. I don’t want to be scared anymore...”
What Todoroki wanted was to snatch the words out of the air and shove them back down his throat as soon as they were out, fear prickling his skin. He knew people would stare, would follow him with their eyes, would whisper behind cupped hands. Would look at him with that same pity that made his stomach churn.
But even if they looked at him, he wouldn’t look at them. He would only look at Midoriya.
Midoriya, who gazed at him with nothing but love. Midoriya, who gave him strength when he didn’t have enough of his own. Midoriya, who taught him what home felt like.
If Midoriya looked at him like he always did, like Todoroki was exactly who he was supposed to be, then maybe everyone else would see it too.
Maybe they would change.
A smile tugged at Midoriya’s lips at his request and he shook his head affectionately.
“I know, love, but not today,” he whispered, silencing Todoroki’s protest with a soft kiss, “Maybe tomorrow. We have a whole week and Paris isn’t going anywhere.”
Todoroki bit his lip as a wave of relief and a touch of guilt washed over him pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s neck in thanks. He melted into Midoriya’s arms, focusing on the feeling of lips curling into a smile against his temple, grumbling only when Midoriya nudged him to his feet so they could cuddle in bed together.
Todoroki sighed when they sank into the soft mattress, content with Midoriya’s fingers carding through his hair, and the light humming in the back of his throat, and the steady beat of his heart against Todoroki’s cheek.
He nuzzled into Midoriya’s neck, catching the faintest trace of...home on his freckled skin.
And suddenly, Todoroki was sure of it.
Home wasn’t ginger and lemon and anxious fear.
Home was vanilla and coconut and safety.
Home was Midoriya.