Chapter Text
Todoroki Shouto finds himself comparing everyone to someone or something in his life.
Right now, he’s thinking what his mom would say to him right now. Just barely hanging on, strings holding him from reality and his head. His hand held cold and hard on the sink, reflection staring back from the window.
Long. Shouto longs for his mother. He longed for her embrace, her soft-voice and her presence ever since he watched her burn, laying in nothing but ash and bone. Even if he was there, being held back as his mom screamed in pain, he doesn’t believe it.
Eyes meet eyes, though he’s not sure who he is looking at in the mirror, the reflection slightly blurred from water dripping down his face. His mom would definitely help him patch up and dress his wounds. Lifting his towel to his face,
“ Mom would wipe my face like this.. She would disinfect my wounds, and cool my bruises with her hands. She’d hug me.. Till I’d fall asleep.”
Shouto’s head in the clouds, aimlessly walking back into his room imagining- scratch that, seeing his mom supporting his limp all the way into his futon. The futon isn’t the comfiest, but feeling Rei tuck him in, sweetly spilling words that she would soon take back was enough for him. His eyes close-
It hits him, it hits him stronger than Enji does. It’s not real. His mom isn’t tucking him into bed with a kiss, she’s not even alive. It empties Shouto, knowing he’s… alone. Lonely. He knows Rei’s dead, and he’s painfully aware that he watched it happen. He’s painfully aware that it’s the only thing that happened.
Not every time he closes his eyes comes with the memory terrorizing his sleep. Sometimes it is a warm dream of Shouto and his mother together, though they are so vivid it’s almost a memory. But everytime he tries to look further into it, the more he cannot recall, pushing it off as him wanting to fantasize more about the woman who died in his memory, one that he once called mother.
It almost feels real, like he has time travelled and is watching it happen again and again and again. It never ends, the image burns into his skull, directed to play every time Shouto closes his eyes.
Shouto thinks it’s punishment; because everything he did was wrong. He knows the world is punishing him for not being strong enough, and that’s what keeps Shouto calm enough not to kill his father.
Trusting himself, he knows he’ll never forgive Enji. Although hating Stain, his father made him question himself. Were heroes truly fake? Were they all like Enji, all knowing their status would protect and justify their actions? Shouto really, really wants to know.
Finally, he drifts to sleep. But, it’s not really something to congratulate. His dreams are the same, his mom being turned into nothing. It’s almost a combination of a nightmare and a dream. Shouto can feel his mother’s presence, feel like she’s there. Though, he doesn’t have even a second to relax into it, the nightmare replacing it with screaming, crying and the same ashy smell of hellfire.
The night goes on, feeling long and dragged out, just like every single night. Shouto doesn’t sleep comfortably either, waking up every hour with tears pooling at his pillow. But, it’s an escape from his punishment. His exhaustion from school and vigorous training cuts his breaks short, since every night he instantly falls asleep again upon waking up.
He’s not sure how no one has said anything, as Shouto has seen many days where he wakes up, blinks and he’s already going to sleep again. The time periods from these separate occasions have gaps. Was he missing class? Did they just leave him be? Or, is it already in discussion with his father?
Every night remains the same, but every morning he rises feeling slightly different. Today, he feels hatred. He sits in his futon, knees pulled into, head seeped into them. Shouto wonders if Enji’s sleeping well, wonders if he’s haunted by the same memories Shouto is. Wonder if he even remembers the event.
He wonders if the man who burned his mother alive was doing well.
Shouto hopes he’s at his lowest, hopes Enji feels like shit. A female voice in his head, sounding familiar to Fuyumi rings in his head. He ignores it, Shouto knows it’s a memory of Fuyumi begging him to forget, because she wants a normal family.
Fuyumi looks at him that night, while she sits next to his futon, arms wrapped around Shouto’s then smaller frame and begs.
“Sho, please. We can try again. Forgive him, he feels-”
Shouto hates her at that moment. He hates that they want to move on. He knows Fuyumi misses Rei just as much as he does, but why does she want to forget?
“ No.”
Fuyumi frowns.
“Sho, please. I- I don’t want to be alone.”
Ah, Shouto thinks, That’s what it is.
Hatred bubbles up in his body again, he imagines Enji runs into a villain, he imagines Enji finally just dropping him and his siblings. Shouto feels nothing but disgust and bitterness towards him, only feeling self-loathing as he trains. He believes it’s a punishment from his mom, for being too weak. Because he was always just not fucking strong enough.
He sits there poundering, well he thinks from a weird view. Shouto’s morning is spent sifting through memories that he isn’t sure are real. He doesn’t know why he can barely remember anything before his mother died. If he could describe it, it felt as if Rei’s existence was her death and her death only.
Once again, he thinks it’s his punishment. The world has left him with only that painful memory so he can repent on his weakness. The world has left him in pieces to pick up. The world has left him in a fantasy to convince himself whatever his brain supplies is real.
And he doesn’t know how to find the answer to his life’s puzzle.
-
( “What don’t you understand? You belong to me! Your body and your quirk is mine. That boy is mine as well, I don’t see the point in trying to get away with what’s mine.”)
Shouto jumps out of slumber, skin icky with sweat and one eye rippled with massive tears. The memory, the dream itches at his skin. It always has. He’s scared of it; every aspect of the dream truly terrifies him down to the core.
He looks around the room, not recognizing where he is. The last of his memories was being in the dorm.. And this?.. Shouto doesn’t recognize this. He must be home? Right? It must be..
The tatami, the doors, the futon!
Shouto’s mind goes hazy again, ears ringing when he squirms around in his futon again. He hates being here. It reminds him of that night, and every night that occured after it. He despises it with all of his body.
After what might’ve been forever, or a few seconds for Shouto, he slowly comes back; but it’s certainly not peaceful. He thinks his mind has now focused on the loud ruckus of his class downstairs. He hears the audible and recognizable sounds of Katsuki’s signature tone and random words.
But he swears he was at.. His father’s house earlier.
He guesses he made it up.
Shouto often wakes up like this; if often could be considered almost every night of the week. Once again, he wakes up with a brand new feeling. He doesn’t recognize it. Shouto’s so used to being.. Put together, as in always ready to supply the right words and right actions people want. He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling like he is falling apart again. It’s disorientating.
This feeling makes it impossible for Shouto to get through his morning like usual, as he’s so exhausted yet so agile that there is no time for daydreaming. He’s on autopilot, and he is the daydream.
Through a blur of thoughts and actions, Shouto manages to make it out of his dorm room, mind somewhat intact and aware. The hallways of the dorm seem distant, like they are either too far apart or way too close for comfort.
The walk to school for Shouto isn't anything unusual. He takes the usual route he always does, and he walks the fast pace he always does as well. It has become a habit for Shouto to walk faster, because he finds whenever he is left to himself and his own mind, memories and weird noises begin to consume him. Getting to school faster means he either is surrounded by others, or he can at least make it to school without being afraid he wouldn’t be able to know if he died, not that he minded it.
Quickly, he enters the front doors and immediately goes to get himself through the body of the rest of the students and get into the familiar part of the school; Class 1-A. It’s not like the others didn’t know him, or he didn’t know them. Simply, Shouto was bothered by the darkness that seemed to fill him when he was wary of where he was.
Once he makes it to the class, he swiftly opens the door, walks in and plants himself at his desk. The only thing he hears is the soft chattering of his class through fogged ears, and the cooled sensation on his left cheek as his head meets the desk. It’s not usual for Class 1-A’s aloof and pretty boy to lay down, his back always straight as a board.
But he can’t sit up.
No matter how hard he tries to fight it, sitting up seems impossible. The everlasting weight on his body makes his back too heavy lift up, yet too weightless to struggle. Shouto’s mind drifts off again, but the day seems to pass consistently slower.
-
It’s not that no one don’t notice.
It’s the fact that they all notice.
The lack of concentration in the heterochromatic eyes of Shouto’s, the declining memories and the way he moves mechanically. But the entirety of Class 1-A are perplexed by it; They have no idea how to help. It’s not like Shouto will say anything, Shouto doesn’t even think he would know what to say.
And Katsuki is fed up with it.
Katsuki’s so done. Done with the half-assed sparrings, the monotone voice of his, everything! He can’t even yell at the boy anymore, because it’s like yelling at a TV when it’s screen freezes; You have to patiently wait for it to notice what’s going on and fix itself. Everyone knows Katsuki is anything but a patient man.
A part of him just wants to smack the air out of Shouto; though Katsuki would never do that. He can see that even if he did, Shouto would probably be too far gone to remember, Katsuki imagines he would just lay there. Completely away from the world.
Shouto’s head is still laying on the cold surface of the desk, an arm hanging down and one hand planted just beside his face. He seems to be staring at his right hand, but not even he noticed the tremors in his hand.
That’s when Katsuki just loses it (holding back as much as Katsuki possibly can.)
Loud marches from the overwhelming rage form towards Shouto, yet there is no visible body language that indicates to anyone in the class that Shouto even hears the thundering sounds of footsteps. He lays there, painfully unaware.
Katsuki grabs him by the hair; pulling up peppermint strips until Shouto’s body finally, finally hits the back of his chair. There is a small flinch from the boy, and the class as the chair hits his spine with a small sound. There is probably a quiet Kacchan! since Katsuki is never usually this aggressive, but the blonde boy thinks; If no one’s gonna say anything, I will.
“Oi, half-n-half.”
The whole class Shouto’s eyes gloss over to meet Katsuki’s, but they themselves don’t meet. Shouto’s blocked off by that barrier that has been built around him for years.
“You know, it really fucking bothers me when people don’t put the effort in.” Katsuki scowls at him, but Shouto merely stares. Some of them watching may think he’s not listening, it argues the fact that Shouto can’t listen.
“Look at you. You’re not even listening to me, are you?”
In all honesty, Shouto barely comprehends the situation. His brain just supplies dad’s house, dad’s house, dad’s house-- Over and over again. Reality doesn’t catch up to him.
“Fuck, can’t even make an effort to notice me?”
Katsuki hates being treated like this; Like he’s not there. He wants to be here, wants to be heard.
It’s too bad that Shouto isn’t there .
The whole class is just staring, they don’t know what they’ll do if a fight breaks out between the two strongest students in their class. The most they can do is stand in a few seconds of shock, before registering both of them. Though, their eyes go back once Katsuki turns around, muttering frustrated sentences as he sits back down. He doesn’t even want to yell at Shouto anymore.
Someone's eyes in particular wander over to Shouto, Momo. She admires Shouto, really. But the black-haired girl couldn’t help feeling concerned for the dual-haired boy over the past few weeks. Sitting next to him, it isn’t a surprise when her uninvited eyes roam to her right, being met with a rather unfocused Shouto.
Her eyes double take the boy, his left arm now lays dangling from his side, while his right arm lays peacefully in his lap.
Peacefully?
Momo’s eyes stay there a little longer, observing the small twitches and tremors his right hand has. It doesn’t seem that Shouto notices it, seeing as he’s doing nothing to calm his hand down, or hide it.
It appears this day is just a competition of observations, as Eijiro’s eyes catch Momo’s eyes laying on Shouto’s crotch area. He takes this chance to lighten the tension in the air, only wanting to help.
“Hey, Yaoyorozu! Where do you think you're lookin!”
This doesn’t seem to lighten the mood, just making it more surprising. Momo raises her hands in defense, red tinting her cheeks.
“You’ve gotten it wrong! I am not doing such an indecent thin-”
“What is it, bro? A boner! A horny haze that blocks the mind!” Denki, huh?
Momo raises a single finger to her lips, ssh.
She leans over to the right, just close enough for her hand to poke Shouto in the arn, trying to get his attention. Shouto doesn’t react the first time, or the second time. It is only till the third time that his eyes open from the lazy eye he sported. His neck slowly turns to Momo. Third time's the charm, they say.
He’s silent, so Momo takes this chance to say anything before anyone else can. Using the same finger again, she points to the increasingly trembling right hand of his.
“Uhm, your hand..”
The whole class watches as he looks down, his eyes only widen slightly as he realizes that 1, his hand is trembling. 2, the whole class is watching this go down. He shakes it out, turning back to look at Momo.
“.. It’s fine, I must've had too much tea.” It’s all too easy for lies to spit out of his mouth.
No one believes it, but what can they do when he says he’s fine?
-
Silent.
Shouto was always quiet.
It wasn’t as natural as people thought; it was a self preservation method that was, unfortunately, learned through Enji. He learned to walk from the tips of his feet to the balls of it, to hold sneezes, to chew quietly, to complain quietly, to live quietly. And they still haven’t let up even after moving into the dorms. Infact, they might’ve improved. His aura was always so big, yet so soundless.
That’s why he always gives quite a scare in the middle of the night.
Shouto isn’t doing much, sitting on the green-indented couches holding what now feels like a lukewarm cup of tea. The water that splashes onto his thumb when he twitches doesn’t burn as much anymore. The cup is considerably less full than it was before, but he hasn’t taken a sip.
The stillness in the room as everyone is sleeping isn’t unbearable, but it isn’t peaceful either. It gives him a moment, to just him and his thoughts. It’s definitely not the best idea, as the quietness turns into a silent white noise as he stares out of the huge window.
It’s probably the reason why he doesn’t hear the footsteps that come all the way from the 2 floor to just right behind him.
“.. Todoroki-kun?”
-
Izuku makes his way down the steps, the sudden aches in his damaged muscles yearning for something to soothe them. He tries to make his footsteps as quiet as possible, as the last time he simply walked down a little too fast, Katsuki had his hair. Izuku isn’t sure how his classmate, Shouto, can be so silent. You wouldn’t notice him in the room before you notice someone like Hagakure; and Hagakure’s invisible for god sake!
Back to his aching muscles, the fridge is practically empty, probably due to the amount of teenagers in this dorm. The ice packs are watery, not even close to freezing. The heat packs are heated using the microwave, which once again, makes enough noise for the light sleepers to wake up.
It isn’t until Izuku leans back on one of the kitchen islands, sighing and squatting down to make his decision, that he hears a familiar cracking sound. It sounds almost identical to the water sounding, crystals of someone he worries over a little too much.
Izuku follows the crystallization sound that stays loud and clear throughout the sleepy atmosphere of the dorms. He finds himself in the common room, staring at a path of ice that covers the table, couches and the huge window. He glances down to inspect the culprit, only to find his still classmate; Todoroki Shouto.
“.. Todoroki-kun?”
Seeing as Shouto didn’t even notice his present for the past few minutes, the sudden response he gets from the boy is alarming. Shouto visibly flinches, and even lets out the tiniest noise of distress. One you wouldn’t hear over the sounds of cracking ice as it slips off of Todroki’s right side.
“Todoroki-kun, are you alright?..”
He can see Shouto’s body tense, but his face and his eyes remain lifeless as he sits, and doesn't make the effort to even say anything.
Most people would ignore him by now, saying that he was being rude or such. But Izuku knows . He might sound creepy, but as he watched Shouto over the last few weeks, he’s off. His movements remain powerful, he endures to the end of the school day. But there’s something so listless about Shouto nowadays.
( Izuku watches from the corner of his vision, slightly turned in his chair trying to hold a different position for his air sit. He observes his classmates, trying to think of weird notes he can add to his notebook of all of them, because now it’s become a routine for Izuku.
His eyes trail over to a certain white and red haired boy, who sits with his back so straight even a ruler would be jealous. His posture is so, so much better than Izuku’s, who’s back sits at a noticeable slouch. He plans to add that, maybe it’ll improve his aches. And make him live rather long.
Green eyes wander to look at the heterochromatic ones, but they don’t stare back. They stare just right in front of himself. One could say he’s paying attention to the not even started class, but if you looked closely he’s not staring at anything. His eyes are just there, there because they have to be. )
It seems like it’s happening again. Shouto’s like a doll, Izuku thinks, eyes not functional but there for display. Built to be so durable yet so fragile. But it’s not the time to think, not now. Not when Shouto’s on his way freezing the first floor of the dorms.
Izuku makes his way over, footsteps even lighter now that he sees the situation at hand. Shouto stays still, but it seems that his eyes finally follow Izuku's movements. Izuku comes closer, and finally seats himself next to Shouto’s left side, which happens to be the side of him that isn’t covered in shattered glass and freezing cold. Shouto finally then, looks him in the eyes.
“.. Midoriya..”
Izuku doesn’t even acknowledge that Shouto doesn’t address him with honorifics, too lost in the fact that this is probably the first time he has looked Shouto in the eyes for a few weeks. First time Shouto’s eyes actually look at him.
“.. Yeah, that’s me.” Izuku says quietly, trying not to scare Shouto even more than he did just a few seconds ago. They sit like that for a few minutes, idly enjoying the presence of each other. Izuku finally speaks up, as the ice dripping from the walls seems to be soaking everywhere.
“Todoroki-kun-”
Shouto cuts him off, surprisingly.
“Don’t.. call me that.”
“What?”
Shouto exhales silently.
“Not right now.. That’s not who I am.”
“O — oh. I can do that.. Shouto-kun?”
Shouto doesn’t smile, but his eyes are finally filled again.
He nods, “that’s fine.”
Izuku takes the hot teacup (he wonders how Shouto has been holding it for so long), and sets it down on the table in front of him before looking back at the boy to his left. Izuku smiles a bit, before he gestures to the ice in front of him that slides up the glass and drips down.
“I think we need to take care of..” He waves his hand around some more, “this.”
Shouto finally looks up at the mess he’s made, the shards and waves of ice he didn’t even realize he had made. His eyes widen at the sight, his breaths become shallow because he swears he didn’t mean to do it he swears —
Izuku seems to notice his discomfort, and grasps his arm in an attempt to get his attention again.
“H-hey! It’s fine, I’m sure you didn’t mean too,” Shouto frantically nods his head.
“I just think.. You should melt this, you know? Before everyone else wakes up.”
The dual-haired boy looks down at his left hand, that is currently covered in little red spots caused by the tea splashes. He doesn’t know if he can do it. Can he ever use his fire again, without being reminded of the terrors of the night from so long ago?
Izuku starts again, “You know, the thing you did to Sero after your fight? You can probably melt all of this like that-”
“I don’t know if I can.”
The green haired boy is only slightly confused. He had thought Shouto had finally grown out of his “ice-only” shell. Maybe he was blaming himself; for only an idiot would believe everything that he heard happened to Shouto would disappear in a mere battle. Or maybe he was upset, seeing as the fight he thought impacted him the most was not as significant as he thought.
No, you’re being selfish, Izuku thought.
“You remember what I told you, yeah?.. It’s yours, not-”
Izuku cuts himself off, as he wanders to find where Shouto is staring. It’s directed to his left hand, which is now trembling throughout. Izuku makes note that once again, it seems like Shouto is staring directly through his hand, seeing the low effort in his eyes.
But he notices the tenseness throughout the heterochromatic eyed boy.
Shouto’s posture, which Izuku knows is so much better than his, is up right even more. It stands taller, but his back shakes at how much pulling is at Shoutos’s back. Izuku can’t think about anything other than how much it must ache later.
Knowing the risks, he softly places his hand on the blades of Shouto’s back, lightly pushing so that their stiff muscles would relax even just a little bit.
“Hey.. Shouto..”
That gets Shouto back, and his head that also whips back at Izuku, now realizing who’s hands are faintly massaging his shoulders. Izuku speaks up once again,
“It’s just me.. Sorry, I’m not really good at this. But if it helps then I-”
Izuku cuts himself off, seeing that Shouto has now relaxed into the touch, shoulders and back now falling into his usual posture. It hasn’t gone completely loose, but his senses have not gone totally haywire.
“I don’t think I can use my fire.. Not right now. Not like this.”
“Like this?” Izuku asks, because he's genuinely confused. He’s sure something is wrong, but he doesn’t think that Shouto’s crazy.
Shouto leans back into the couch.
“I don’t even know.”
They sit there, small breaths from Izuku playing between the two, Shouto’s noise remains unheard, only coming from the slight shifts on the couch. Izuku can’t even be “surprised” right now. Shouto doesn’t owe him an explanation, when he probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing.
“.. That’s okay. You don’t have to know.”
Shouto’s body probably knows that he must melt up all this ice, knowing he’d get into trouble for 1, losing control of his quirk. 2, for making use, sloppy mess of water all over the common room. However, his mind doesn’t comply. Doesn’t want to use his quirk, just wants to fall asleep. Instead of floating, Shouto just wants to fall completely over, until he hits the ground and doesn’t get up for a while.
So that’s exactly what he does.