Chapter Text
Words: Dust and Photographs
The door creaked, and all beyond that was just a bedroom covered with quite a layer of dust. Shouto tightened the scarf on his neck, and entered.
For as long as he remembered, Izuku's room was shiningーfull of yellows and golds because of its owner being an ultimate fan of the Number One hero.
Formerly Number One hero, that is.
He walked in aimlessly, hands buried in his coat's pockets as he scanned the dusty room. If he dared inhale, he bet he would just sneeze, but something in him felt that it still had the familiar scent of his friend either way.
He shouldn't be here, he admits that. However, it was just that something bothered him ever since the incident, and he felt restless ever since. It became so bad he cannot retire peacefully to the confines of his formerly comfortable bedroom, or even relax at the voice of his sister through the phone. He was nothing but a perpetual mess, and he wanted nothing more than to make it stop, whatever method he might take. Depends on how desperate he is, really.
How long has it been since the incident, even? Two weeks? He wasn't really sure.
One thing is for sure though, and that was that Izuku was still in recovery.
Shouto sighed, missing the warm smile in his friend's face. He wished everything would just come back to normal, or at least go better than it was today.
He walked up to the window, just above his friend's mahogany desk. Untouched books littered the small shelves framing the window, as well as Funko pops of various pro-heroes still in their packaging. He found the little collection quite tragic, as most of them were wiped off the face of the Earth just a few days ago.
As he traced a line through the dust on the wood, his attention wandered past the glass and saw the gray skies.
Everything was quite gloomy, and that was it.
Suddenly, the phone on the desk rang. It took him by surprise; the soft ringing too deafening in a formerly silent room.
He watched it ring, but after a few seconds, he gave in. He kept his lips shut, but his ears open.
"--Aizawa just wants me to tell you that the 2019 project of our school is finally built and open to the student population," Tenya said, his voice possessing that authoritativeness that, in Shouto's opinion, was quite unnecessary. Tenya spoke as if he was a robot radio announcer, a pre-recorded piece of audio, or just a straight-up sad person.
It was heartbreaking, really. Not just for Shouto or for Tenya, but for everyone. U.A had hit its lowest point, and it was so low that it might be impossible to get back up.
Students and pro-hero teachers died in the incident, after all. That's something the school can't just sweep under a rug and call minor.
"Uhm, sorry, what project exactly?" Momo asked on the line. She, too, sounded exhausted and solemn. At this point, it should feel numb.
It's so numb that it doesn't feel painful anymore.
"The plum tree fountain, in honor of the...uh," Tenya said, his voice wavering, "the school shooting victims."
Shouto took a sharp inhale before hanging up the landline, leading it gently back on its place as if he didn't touch anything. He brushed off the obvious marks his hand left on the dust, and placed his hands back on the warmth of his coat pocket.
As he moved, he felt hard wood hit his elbow, hitting the cabinet just at his side. The gray dust rained over his dark coat, however he couldn't care less. It was the photos that fell, merely resting atop the said low cabinet beforehand, caught his attention. He bent down to take it between his hands, feeling the hardness of both the photopaper and the picture itself.
Izuku smiled back at him from the photo, and it was so bright it almost covered up the people beside him with its brightness. Shouto smiled at it dearly, remembering the exact day it was taken.
Just a month ago, if he's right.
Before tears could fall, he pushed the photo deep in his pocket, exiting out of the room to the gloomy hallways of the dorms. His unwanted visit did make him go to the hospital ward to say hi to his friend.
At least it was eventful enough.