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No one has seen Shinsou in two days.
Not that anyone is particularly concerned. He isn’t missing. The League hasn’t kidnapped him. He isn’t even off campus. He just… hasn’t shown up for class or training for two solid days.
Iida is starting to worry. Aizawa seems unusually tight-lipped about it, even for him. When the class president corners the teacher after training, Aizawa refuses tell him anything. Iida would have thought that as Shinsou’s mentor, he’d know better than anyone what was going on, but it’s no use. Even after Iida’s relentless persistence (and several threats of expulsion on Aizawa’s part), he hadn’t gotten anywhere. It doesn’t bode well.
He tries to put it out of his mind. After school, he and the rest of his friends decide to go out for ice cream, to celebrate the approaching end of the semester. It had become an established ritual for them - the local parlor offered a great environment for them to unwind and hang out together, a temporary reprieve from the daily stress of the hero course.
But today, Iida can’t take his mind off the one member of their group that isn’t there. His eyes keep drifting to the empty spot where Shinsou usually sits.
Shinsou didn’t really like ice cream, Iida remembers with a faint smile. He usually ordered a large black coffee with four shots of espresso - six on a bad day.
Out of the corner of his eye, Iida notices Uraraka and Midoriya exchange worried looks over their sundaes. Clearly they’re all thinking the same thing.
The thought remains unspoken, however, and they wind up leaving the ice cream shop without once mentioning their missing friend. Even once they return to the UA dorms, Iida’s friends remain silent, laughing and joking as if nothing’s wrong. Perhaps they, like Aizawa and the rest of their class, would prefer to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary.
Iida admits that might be the best course of action. It could be nothing. Shinsou is known to wander off from time to time, whenever he needed to be alone. Maybe Iida is just overreacting. He certainly has a penchant for it.
But try as he might, he just can’t shake the strangeness. Sure, sometimes Shinsou needed a break from people, and they were all respectful enough to give him that space, but it had never lasted this long before.
The more Iida stews on it, the more worked up and worried he becomes. Eventually, he decides that there’s no choice but to go and check on him. As he makes his way down the dorm hall, a quiet voice in the back of his mind wonders how much of this is for his own peace of mind as it is for Shinsou’s.
When he reaches the door, he freezes: fist paused midair, knuckles barely grazing the surface of the wood. He’s having second thoughts. Is this really the best course of action? Is it possible he may end up doing more harm than good?
Iida doesn’t get a chance to reconsider, however, because the door swings open on its own, revealing a gaunt, bedraggled figure who looks more ghost than human. Iida stares at Shinsou, mouth slightly agape at how pale his friend looks, as if he’d spent his entire life in a cave, hiding from the sun. He’s practically drowning in his black oversized hoodie, and the circles under his eyes look so dark they could almost be mistaken for tattoos. But nothing compares to his expression: listless and void, like a sail ship stranded in the middle of the ocean without wind.
It’s hard for Iida to believe such a drastic change had happened over just two days, but maybe this had been progressing for longer. Maybe Shinsou had been sinking for a while, and they hadn’t even noticed.
“What do you want?” Shinsou asks.
There’s no sarcastic bite to his tone, no anger, but Iida can tell there probably would be if he had the energy for it. For now Shinsou just sounds profoundly tired.
“I came to check on you,” Iida responds, rising to his full height and squaring his shoulders. “You’ve been absent for two days. It’s my duty as class representative to ensure that every student in the class is healthy and performing at their best, and to help them seek medical assistance if so required—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Shinsou interrupts. “I guess I should’ve figured you’d show up eventually. I’m surprised it took you this long.”
“I am terribly sorry, Shinsou. You are very right, I should have come sooner. I accept full responsibi—”
Shinsou holds up a hand. “Don’t worry about it, big guy. And I appreciate you checking on me, okay? But it’s really not necessary. I’m fine.”
Iida frowns. “Clearly you are not.”
Sighing, Shinsou glances down at his feet and puts a hand behind his neck before responding. “No, I really am. I’m not sick or anything. I’ve just been… really tired these last few days.”
“If you’re having trouble sleeping, there are techniques and medications you could try…”
“Trust me, I’ve tried everything under the sun. This isn’t exactly a new problem for me. Again: I’ll be fine. I’m used to it, okay? So you can go.”
Something doesn’t sit right about the way Shinsou says that. “So we’ll see you in class tomorrow then?”
Shinsou hesitates, glancing away from the taller boy and scratching the back of his neck.
That’s all the indication Iida needs. “Shinsou, is there something else going on?”
The indigo-haired boy stops scratching his neck and looks at Iida. “No...”
Closing his eyes, Iida lets out a long sigh. Pushing past the wavering boy in the doorway, Iida strides into the dark room and plops down in the chair at Shinsou’s desk. He plants his feet and crosses his arms, fixing himself to his new post.
Shinsou shoots him a look of scathing indignation. “What are you doing? I told you to leave.”
“If you need me to leave so bad, you’re going to have to use your quirk on me,” Iida says calmly.
“You know I’d never do that,” Shinsou responds.
“Well then, you’re going to have to live with it.”
Shinsou’s expression darkens, but he keeps silent. With a sigh of resignation, he closes the door and walks over to his bed, sticking his hands in his pockets and slouching against the frame. He avoids Iida’s searching gaze. “How long do you plan on staying here?” Shinsou asks quietly.
“As long as it takes to figure out what’s wrong,” Iida replies.
“You’re gonna be here all night then, you know.”
“That’s fine with me.”
Shinsou huffs, turning his gaze out the window, the side of his face outlined in shades of periwinkle, made soft by the moonlight. “Then you better get comfortable. I’m not planning on talking anytime soon.”
Iida nods. “I understand.”
Huffing again, Shinsou reaches over to his nightstand and grabs his phone, hopping up onto the bed and thumbing through messages. The soft glow of the moonlight mixes with the harsher blues cast by the screen, rendering Shinsou’s features in sharp relief and further highlighting his fatigue. He’s completely still, save for the subtle motion of his thumb flicking across the screen. He reminds Iida of a statue: paralyzed.
Iida watches him for a while, but then decides to give him some space and fix his attention on something else.
He glances around the room, his eyes finally adjusting to the dim light. This is the first time he’s been inside Shinsou’s room, he realizes. For the most part, it’s fairly tidy. Not much clutter, save for the stacks of books and scattered papers on the desk and the disassembled bicycle upended on a quilt in the corner of the room. There are a few posters decorating the wall - mostly of pro heroes, accented by the occasional cat picture. Pinned to the corkboard above the desk, Iida spots a child’s drawing, scribbled out in crayon. It depicts two figures: one with a large purple blob for a head, and the other with long flaxen hair. A messy signature is carved into the bottom right corner of the page: Eri.
Returning to the boy on the bed, Iida finds him right where he left him: stuck in a trance, hypnotized by the blue haze emanating from his screen.
“What are you thinking about?” Iida asks softly.
“...I don’t know,” comes Shinsou’s response, muffled slightly by the fabric of his hoodie, bunched over his mouth. “Nothing.”
“Nothing or you don’t know?”
“Nothing.”
Iida sighs. “Shinsou, I want to help you. But you’re going to have to help me a bit in return. Tell me what you need.”
Shinsou finally glances up from his phone, giving the other boy a long, pointed look. “I need you to leave me the hell alone.”
Clearly, Shinsou isn’t ready to voice his thoughts, but Iida is more than prepared to wait him out. He may just be acting on pure stubbornness at this point, but he needs to know. Something is eating Shinsou from the inside out, and as his class president - as his friend - Iida needs to find out what it is. Besides, Iida knows exactly what it feels like to let a secret fester. He knows it never ends well.
He leaves it there for now, though. He does his best to give Shinsou space - as much as he can, considering they’re cramped in an undersized dorm room together. In the silence that settles between them, Iida does his best to divert his attention elsewhere, returning to his studies of the posters on the wall.
“You really shouldn’t be here, you know,” Shinsou says.
Iida looks at him. Shinsou is sitting curled into himself, with his knees tucked against his chest. He looks startlingly small. “Why not?” Iida asks.
“You don’t want to be around me when it gets late. I’m not at my best. You really don’t need to see that.”
“Shinsou, I already told you. I’m not going anywhere, like it or not.” Iida replies. He tilts his head. “But I must admit, I’m impressed by your ability to keep so completely still for such a long period of time, all curled up like that. I’d probably get cramps.”
Shinsou scoffs. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Iida doesn’t ask him what he means by that. At least he’s starting to talk. “Now that you’re done on your phone, are you going to bed?”
“Hell no.”
“Why not? You’re already in your bed. You’re not going to at least try and lie down?”
Shinsou eyes him flatly, letting his legs drop to cross his arms. “Why would I? I already know the outcome.”
“Could you at least try?”
They stare at each other for a good minute. Iida fleetingly wonders if this is what it’s like to have a younger sibling: constantly battling to get them to go to bed on time. Is this what it was like for Tensei? Was Iida ever this obstinate?
The thought makes him wonder about Shinsou’s childhood. He’s never really talked about it, now that Iida thinks about it. Especially not compared to how often Iida brings up his own - always going on about his memories of his older brother, his grandfather, his family legacy. He knows next to nothing about Shinsou’s past. And now probably isn’t the right time to ask.
Eventually Shinsou sighs, uncrossing his arms and flopping onto his bed facedown.
Iida is more than a bit surprised. This is the first time tonight that Shinsou actively listened to one of his suggestions, however begrudgingly. It gives him a spark of hope. “Do you want me to tuck you in?”
Shinsou bolts upright and shoots him his most violent, heart-rending glare yet.
“What? You should be as comfortable as possible if you’re going to try and sleep,” Iida says. “You might at least consider taking off your clothes.”
Shinsou’s glare morphs into a look of pure, undiluted pain. “You did not just say that.”
Iida tilts his head to the side. “Your hoodie. It looks a little too warm to wear to bed.”
Sighing, Shinsou peels off his hoodie, revealing a black tank top underneath. Casting the hoodie to the floor, he throws the comforter off his bed and dives in, quickly burrowing himself beneath the blankets and pillows until his face is once again concealed from his unwelcome guest.
Iida remains at the desk chair, hands folded, doing his best not to push his luck. He hopes against all hope that Shinsou will manage to fall asleep. He looks like he could really use it, whatever his other problems might be. He remains silent for a good while, letting the time stretch on and waiting for Shinsou’s breaths to even.
They never do.
Shinsou lies unbelievably still in his bed, like a corpse, but Iida can tell he’s still very much awake. Iida is running out of ideas: he won’t talk, he can’t sleep. There’s only one thing left to try.
Rising from the chair, Iida makes his way to the bed, throwing off the covers and attempting to slide in beside the stubborn insomniac. It’s a tight fit, squeezing two lanky boys onto the same full sized bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” Shinsou protests, sitting up and scrambling over to the far side of the bed, putting as much distance as he possibly can between the two of them.
Iida sighs. “Shinsou, it’s becoming clear to me that you’re not going to fall asleep-- not without help. I’ve read that sleeping with someone can help people fall asleep easier, so that’s what I’m going to try.” He lies down on his side, ignoring the blush of indignation spreading across Shinou’s face. “And quite frankly, I’m far too concerned to leave you alone right now, so if I want to get any sleep myself, this is the only solution.”
Shinsou says nothing, remaining plastered against the wall on the far side of the bed, like a cornered animal.
Sighing again, Iida takes off his glasses and sets them on the nightstand, closing his eyes and doing his best to get comfortable. If Shinsou really were that adamant about wanting him to leave, he would, of course. The last thing Iida wants is to make his friend uncomfortable. But somehow he can tell that even through all Shinsou’s protests, he desperately wants Iida to stay.
It surprises Iida, that he’s able to discern this. Usually he relies on people’s words - perhaps a bit too much. Body language and nonverbal communication are confusing, full of misdirection. He never quite got the hang of telling when someone was being sarcastic or facetious - and with someone like Shinsou that was even more true. Not a sentence passed his lips that wasn’t half-joking or slanted in meaning. It probably had something to do with his quirk. Either way, Iida fell for it every time.
But not now. Maybe all that practice over the months they’d known each other had finally lent him some insight on Shinsou: revealing the secret tells that gave away how he truly felt. He can’t point to anything specific, but somehow Iida feels fairly confident about knowing what Shinsou wants. And it’s not to be alone.
Eventually, Shinsou eases up, peeling himself off the wall. He shifts into a half-seated position, rearranging some pillows to prop himself up. “Fair enough,” he finally answers. “But I’m still not gonna fall asleep anytime soon.”
“Fair enough,” Iida echoes, eyes still closed. He’s not sure he’ll be able to fall asleep either. He’s ready for it to be a long night.
XXX
Three hours later, Iida remains sordidly awake. Feeling the other side of the bed shift, he glances over. Shinsou once again has his knees pulled to his chest, his face buried in his arms. He’s shaking.
“Shinsou?” Iida asks softly.
“What,” Shinsou replies.
Iida sits up, reaching out a comforting hand. “What’s wrong?”
Shinsou laughs hollowly. “You’re still here.”
Retracting his hand, Iida pauses for a moment. “Do you really want me to leave?”
The other boy looks over at him. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just… didn’t expect you to stick around so long. You’ve been lying there for almost three hours now, and you still haven’t fallen asleep or left. I was counting on you to get fed up.”
Iida sits up further, squaring his shoulders to face Shinsou. “Is that why you’re being so difficult? To test me?”
Shinsou laughs again, glancing away and cracking a self-deprecating grin. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. I do genuinely want you to leave though.”
Iida is quiet for a moment, weighing Shinsou’s words. He still doesn’t fully believe them. “Shinsou, why have you been absent? What happened?”
Another evasive laugh. “Nothing,” he replies finally, hand trailing to the back of his neck. “Can you believe that? I’ve been holed up in here sulking for two days over absolutely nothing.”
“That’s okay. You don’t need a reason.”
Shinsou locks eyes with him, incredulous. “You’re saying I don’t need a reason to mope around and throw a fit like a damn child?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Iida says, sighing. He thinks back to the week of their first internships, remembering the taste of his selfish mistake: choosing to pursue a misguided brand of vengeance rather than better himself as a hero. “We’ve all done it. Besides, we are still children, after all.”
Shinsou is silent, knees huddled to his chest, still shaking.
Iida decides to take a chance. Leaning over, he wraps his arms around the quaking boy, pulling him against his chest in a firm embrace. Shinsou stiffens at the contact, and Iida braces himself for his protests, but they never come.
A few seconds later, Shinsou relaxes, closing his eyes and allowing himself to lean into the hug.
Iida smiles, internally breathing a sigh of relief. He’d made the right move.
Pulling away, Shinsou looks at Iida, his eyes shining with a renewed sense of peace.
Iida furrows his brows. “Just promise me you’ll forgive yourself and move on, okay? You can’t spend the rest of your time at UA hiding in your dorm room.”
Shinsou laughs at that, and for the first time it even sounds genuine. “Okay, I promise.”
“And I still think you should try getting some sleep,” Iida adds.
Shinsou rolls his eyes, but it’s more playful than sardonic. “What are you, my mother?” he teases.
“No, but I am your class president, and as such I—”
Shinsou holds up a hand, flopping down onto his side of the bed. “I get it, big guy. I’ll try and get some sleep.” Propping up a pillow, he looks up at Iida hopefully. “Are you planning on sticking around then or…”
Iida smiles softly, lying back down so that they’re facing each other, their noses inches apart. “Yes, I can stay.”
Shinsou closes his eyes. “Okay.” Almost imperceptibly, he inches a bit closer to Iida, until the two of them are almost right next to each other.
Taking a chance, Iida reaches out a hand and lays it on the other boy’s shoulder.
Without pulling away, Shinsou opens his eyes. “By the way, when did you get so good at reading people?”
Iida laughs quietly. “I didn’t. It’s just you.”