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When the news first came that Yuuei was installing a dorms system, Shouto’s first worry was his classmates finding out about his bad eating habits. His second was the showers. He hoped, begged, and prayed that they would be separated into stalls unlike the ones connected to the locker rooms. Fortunately, Yuuei had more money than they knew what to with and his prayers were answered; Shouto steps into the cold spray as his phone shines 1:22AM and plays music soft enough as to not disturb anyone upstairs. He doesn’t usually listen to music in the shower out of fear of bothering anyone, but it’s turned down, enough that he can barely hear it through the spray of water, and he’s tired from training so late, so he figures he should allow himself a small pleasantry this once.
The scent of his shampoo is familiar and he let’s himself card his fingers gently through his hair to get it out. He’s always found the action soothing, Fuyumi picked it up from mom and would play with Shouto’s hair the few times she was able to comfort him when they were kids. Sometimes, she’d put small braids in his hair or tiny pigtails. Those were some of the only things he’d find himself missing about the estate.
He relaxes with the frigid water running down his back, and after going through the motions of showering he takes his razor out of the water proof bag he had set down on the shower’s shelf.
He’s always hated shaving, and does more now, but he hasn’t in a few weeks for that very reason, so he knows he should today. As such, he brings the razor under his arm- and then flinches at a memory and drops the razor. Then, catching it, it skids against his elbow and theres a searing recollection of what he wishes was just a nightmare sitting at the front of his eyes, like it’s projecting itself onto his body. He drops it again and this time it clatters against the floor in the rush of the showerhead. Fuck his reflexes, then.
Shit. He lets the cold water run down his arm as his hand comes panickingly up to cup his elbow. He suddenly feels dizzied, like there’s steam flowing around him despite the shower knob pointing to blue. Shit shit shit. Shouto looks down at his feet and there’s blood running around them and into the drain. He doesn’t want to look. He knows he should to assess how bad it is, but the pain’s only been settled for a few seconds and he already feels like he’ll pass the fuck out in here and then bleed out and die if he so much as blinks.
Slowly, he raises his hand off his elbow into a stance that looks like he’s cooling it with his ice, but the temperature of the room doesn’t change because even though he was taught ice can help an open wound, he’s scared of what it can do to injuries if employed wrong. He doesn’t want to relive that right now, even if his better judgement tells him he won’t, because this is a cut, not a burn, dammit. He peaks at the watered blood on his fingers, and he thinks he can feel his throat go dry. I’m going to pass out.
No, I’m not. Stay calm. He needs to get out of the shower.
As he turns the knob with a shaking hand, trying to move his cut arm as little as humanly possible as he does so, what he wants to be a deep breath is as shallow as the water he suddenly feels like he’s drowning in. I’m going to fucking pass out. The faucet goes off belatedly, as you’d expect from a school shower, but not from Yuuei, and Shouto wonders if his hearing’s off too. He opens the curtain and grabs his towel off the hook in a hurry and presses it to his elbow and fuck, it hurts. He doesn’t know why; he’s probably had deeper cuts, has had broken bones, bruises to his ribs, and burns around his cornea. Hell, this kind of pain should be familiar, but it’s not, because he’s been getting better, and maybe that’s why it hurts so damn bad.
Immediately, he pulls the first aid kit out from under the sinks- they have one in every room because they can never be too careful- and he hopes the large bandaid he sticks onto his elbow covers the whole cut as he sits against the cabinets.
Okay, he’s still bleeding though, and now there’s blood on his towel, and if he has to see one more drop of his own blood tonight he might start crying too. Stupid.
He should call someone- no, text, he would die prematurely from embarrassment instead of bleeding out if he talked right now- but he doesn’t know who. Midoriya is his first thought, but he might interpret the situation as something else which he can’t deal with on top of the situation itself right now, but he’s not really close enough to anyone else in the class to go to them in an emergency. He feels a little weak calling a shaving cut an emergency, but as time ticks on and he debates who to text, oxygen seems likes it’s evading him on purpose now. Maybe it’s because of how pathetic this whole thing is.
The glare of the text scrolling by hurts his eyes, and then he settles.
Todoroki Shouto 1:34AM
Sensei, I’m so sorry to text you so late, please forgive me. What do I do if I cu tmyself shavbing and there’salot of blood and i csn’t breathe well and I have a fear of blood? I feel lighthead ed.
I apo;ogize for texting youso late.
I knwo you said not to text unless theresan emergency but I think I’n goigg to pas out. I’m sorry.
He proofreads the text as quickly as he can after sending it, and it doesn’t look like he made any spelling mistakes but there might be tears in his eyes and he might not be able to see straight, so he can’t be sure. He reads it again, and again to keep himself grounded, and he feels bad because it’s late, like he said, and he doesn’t want to wake anyone, which is why he played his music so softly, but if he doesn’t he might be unconscious himself soon, which would cause more problems and be, arguably, even worse for everyone else, and then he- Shouto feels something run down his arm and drip to the floor and decidedly screws his eyes shut. No wait- he can’t close his eyes right now or he’ll pass out sooner.
He just wanted to shower, dammit.
He fixes his eyes on the unmoving text on his screen. The text is unmoving and he moves his shaking pointer finger towards the off button because of course Aizawa’s not going to respond to a pitiful call for help at 1AM, god, he’s such a bother, and then three dots appear.
Aizawa-Sensei 1:34AM
How bad is the cut
He kind of feels worse now; what if Aizawa was sleeping and his text just woke him up? He should’ve delt with it himself.
Todoroki Shouto 1:34AM
I don’tknow I didnt look.
I’m sorry
Aizawa-Sensei 1:35AM
Can you take a photo and show me?
Todoroki Shouto 1:35AM
I already put a bandaid on I’m sorry
I can take apoctyre of that if you want
[image attached]
Aizawa-Sensei 1:36AM
Okay, do you think you feel light-headed from the sight, or do you think the blood loss is making you dizzy?
Todoroki Shouto 1:36AM
I don’t knkw
Aizawa-Sensei 1:37AM
Alright. It looks like it’s bleeding through the bandaid. I need you to get a towel or a shirt or something you don’t mind staining.
Take the bandaid off and press the fabric to the area. Don’t look at it, just hold it there.
Todoroki Shouto 1:38AM
Can Ido that withouttaking t he bandaid off
Aizawa-Sensei 1:38AM
You can, but you shouldn’t.
Apply pressure with a clean area of the towel and don’t lift it for a few minutes.
Don’t look at it either. If the sight is what’s making you dizzy, I don’t want to make it worse.
Just hold the towel there and look at your phone.
Todoroki Shouto 1:39AM
Okay , I’m doing wha t you sadi to
Aizawa-Sensei 1:39AM
Good. Stay there, I’m walking over now.
The reassurance that Aizawa is on his way is admittedly calming, and Shouto doesn’t really want to address why exactly that is, but it clears the steam from the room and he realizes he’s not full on hyperventilating now, so he’s thankful for that much.
Shouto heaves the biggest breath he’s taken since dropping the razor, and then, with the towel pressed to the cut, he puts his change of boxers and his binder on. Looking at himself in the mirror, he feels a little silly for reacting how he did, and bad for the mess of water and few drops of blood he got on the clean tiles, but it couldn’t be helped. He recalls a breathing exercise Midoriya taught him when things were bad before.
Then, the door opens and a ponytailed Aizawa walks in, phone held tightly at his midsection. Shouto has never seen his teacher so dressed down, nevermind in pajamas. He kind of feels like he’s intruding, despite the man having walked into the room on him.
“Did the bleeding stop?” Aizawa crouches down in front of him and directs Shouto’s elbow towards himself, taking the towel.
“I think so.” Shouto says, and then he clears his throat because he’s never heard himself sound like that. It’s not fully the truth, he still hadn’t actually looked at it, but he still feels bad for waking his teacher up at almost two in the morning.
Apparently though, he guessed right, if Aizawa placing the towel down next to them after wiping the blood trail off his forearm was anything to go by.
“That’s good.” He rummages through the first-aid kit laying unzipped on the floor, a few bandaids having fallen out next to it. “Is there any neosporin in here?”
“Probably.” The only noise to occupy the silence is Shouto’s barely controlled breathing and Aizawa rifling through the medkit. “Sorry.” He adds, for good measure.
“Don’t apologize, kid, you already did, like, eight times in your texts.” Aizawa holds the neosporin up somewhat triumphantly.
Oh. “Sor-”
Aizawa glares at him and Shouto glances to his knees that are drawn up to his chest. “Um- yeah. Okay.” What else was he supposed to say, though, when all he felt was sorry and a throbbing in his elbow?
“I was already up, if that’s what you were worried about.” Aizawa says, and it’s the least bit relieving. “Are you okay with me touching you?”
Shouto’s hesitance is enough of an answer. He’s compelled to apologize again.
“Okay, that’s fine. Wash your hands and then put some on the cut.” He tilts the tube towards Shouto.
Oh, he has to put it on himself. He has to touch the cut. “It’s- nevermind. Um, can- you can- uh.” He’d hide his face in his hands if it weren’t for his teacher looking straight at him. “Do I have to?” He settles on.
“No, but you should at least put a bandaid on.”
“Can I put the neosporin on the bandaid and then put it on?”
Aizawa’s eyebrows raise a little. “Yes, that works. Good thinking.”
They stand up, Shouto holding the first aid kit and one of the bandaids that had fallen on the floor, and he does what Aizawa said to. He blinks down at the counter after smoothing the bandaid out, and then picks another one out of the box and puts it on. It’s embarrassing how fucking inhibited he is about this, even with someone he trusts and looks up to beside him. Actually, He doesn’t know if thats better or worse. Worse, probably, because with all of Endeavor’s rigorous training, he never taught Shouto how to ask for help.
Aizawa looks at him as he breathes out. Shouto’s never felt so awkward around his teacher, but that’s to be expected when you have to have them help you after cutting yourself shaving of all things. He notices a damp trail on his cheek when he looks back up at the mirror.
“Change them in twelve hours.” The teacher says, and it startles Shouto a little. “How’s your head? Still Dizzy?”
He’s not, he realizes. “No, I’m fine now.” Shouto inhales as he looks back at the shower through the mirror, and then to the mess on the floor, and then he exhales. “I feel-” His lips close. His breathing doesn’t feel short, exactly, but the air traveling through his body seems to have stilled.
Aizawa says nothing, leaning his side against the counters.
Shouto turns and clumsily takes a seat against the cabinets again and if it weren’t for him having embarrassed himself enough to completely deteriorate the image he’d built of himself over the school year, he wouldn’t have. He plants his chin on his knees like a petulant child and hears Aizawa zip the medkit closed, and then the man is sitting criss cross next to him, the motion mutch more practiced and careful.
After a few moments, “I feel stupid,” Shouto mumbles into his legs. He used to sit like this in his room after training when it got bad.
“Why stupid?”
“I dunno… I just panicked and threw a bandaid on it.” He pauses and pouts a little, feeling stupider. To hell with his image, he’d already gotten this far. “I feel like a school nurse giving a concussed kid an ice pack and sending them back to class.” He says and then tucks his face further into his knees and turns it away from his teacher.
“Don’t discredit Recovery Girl like that,” Aizawa jokes monotonously, “And I don’t think that’s stupid. You saw blood, you panicked. That’s normal enough.”
Shouto resolved to count the bumps on the wall. “...I’m supposed to be a hero. How can I save anyone if I panic at the sight of blood.” He says, and it isn’t a question. “How can I save anyone if my first-aid training goes out the window just because I’m- …scared.” That isn’t something Endeavor taught him to be, either.
“Be a good enough hero no one has to bleed.” Aizawa shrugs, like it’s that simple. Then, before Shouto can retort, “That means you, too. Being a hero means looking out for yourself too, you know. You can’t save anyone if you neglect yourself.”
Shouto wants to disagree, but he can’t. Aizawa’s right, and as always he reads Shouto embarrassingly well, only this time he’s experiencing it first hand. And, now that this has happened, he probably will again soon. Endeavor didn’t teach him how to ask for help or be scared, but in the time he’s spent at Yuuei he’s found he prefers Aizawa’s methods anyways.
It’s silent again, but not awkward like it was before.
“I don’t want to tell Midoriya.” Shouto admits, turning his head to rest between his legs again.
“You don’t have to.”
“He’s on laundry duty this week.” He glances at the bloody towel on the floor.
“Is there a reason why you don’t want to?” Aiazawa sounds like he already knows the answer.
“...”
“I’ll wash it for you at the teachers’ dorms, don’t worry.” Aizawa sighs, but Shouto knows better than to think he’s angry.
“Thank you.” He sighs, still though, “I’m s-”
“Don’t”
Right. Shouto leans his head back to rest against the cabinet and he feels Aizawa’s gaze shift to him, but he doesn’t turn.
“Why were you showering so late?”
Ah, he should’ve expected this,
Aizawa’s always been good at reading him.
“...I think you know.” He’ll try and spare himself more embarrassment.
Aizawa sighs again, still not angry, but Shouto knows he isn’t pleased. “If you want to train late, at least ask first next time?” He asks, but doesn’t, really.
“I will. Sorry.”
“That, I’ll let you apologize for.”
Shouto closes his eyes, the time finally catching up to him, and feels a hand on his head. If he leans a little more into Aizawa’s side and drifts off, that’s for them to know. He can deal with the mess in the morning.