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In Iida’s absence, the hospital room feels empty.
Shouto knows Midoriya is still here, in the bed next to his. When he turns onto his side, he can watch the rise and fall of his chest beneath the thin sheets. He must be asleep by this point—it’s late, and he still has a lot of recovering to do.
Compared to Midoriya and Iida, Shouto might as well have suffered no injuries at all. The doctors gave him permission to leave tonight, along with Iida, but after exerting so much energy in the fight, he decided to just sleep here. It’s not as if Shouto has a parent at home anxiously awaiting his return like Iida does.
Besides, he wanted to keep an eye on Midoriya too. Just to be safe.
It’s the kind of hero he wants to be—someone who cares for the wellbeing of those they work with. He’d hate for something to happen to Midoriya overnight, and for the doctors to not notice in time, when Shouto could have stayed.
He isn’t having much luck sleeping anyway.
He stays like that, on his side, watching the shadow that is Midoriya’s body, for so long he loses track of time. He times his breathing with Midoriya’s—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale—letting the rhythm soothe his nerves and calm the beating of his heart. He falls into a sort of stupor that is almost sleep but not quite, alert enough to notice if something’s wrong but lulled into the false sense of safety one can only find when unconscious.
And then—
“Todoroki-kun?”
He starts, adrenaline coursing through his veins and ice crystals forming along the lines of his palm. His body goes into fight-or-flight mode, and it takes him a second to assure his brain there’s no villain attacking. And then another to realize that wasn’t the only thing that sent a wave of fear through him; he’s also worried Midoriya caught him staring.
But, no… There’s very little light, since they’ve drawn the curtains, and Midoriya was laying on his back.
Right?
Shouto can’t actually recall the exact extent of his visual limitations—maybe Midoriya could see him just fine; maybe his head was turned towards him. Shouto likely wouldn’t have been able to see if it were. He wasn’t focused on Midoriya’s head anyway.
Shit.
“Yeah?” he replies, several seconds too late, voice rough.
Quietly, like he’s afraid he may be reprimanded for it, Midoriya admits, “I don’t know how we’re supposed to sleep right now.”
It’s such a childish thing to say. Pro Heroes fight villains every day; if they were to lose sleep over every altercation, they would be far too exhausted to get anything done.
Still…
Shouto understands.
Obviously. Otherwise, he would be fast asleep himself right now.
“It’s something we’ll have to work on,” he grumbles. Just another weakness they’ll have to train themselves out of before going pro. Though Stain was different than most villains—in the final moments before his ultimate defeat, which was nothing but a lucky coincidence according to the doctors, not even Endeavor or Gran Torino could do a single thing. Not because of Stain’s Quirk, but because…
Shouto digs his fingernails into his palm. There’s no use dwelling on what’s done. It all turned out okay in the end.
Midoriya sighs. “I know, it’s just…” Slowly, he pushes himself up into a sitting position.
Instinctively, Shouto sits up too, worried he’s going to have to stop Midoriya from getting up out of bed and walking around on his injured leg. He might be used to the pain of broken bones, due to the previous backlash from his Quirk, but he shouldn’t strain his injuries for no reason.
“Don’t—”
“Can I ask you something personal?” Midoriya interrupts. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
Shouto falls silent.
When he offers no response, Midoriya apparently takes that as a go ahead. “Your dad is Endeavor… Have there ever been fights that kept him up at night?”
Shouto looks away. “I don’t know,” he says, because he doesn’t want to think about it. “Maybe, maybe not. It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to be a hero like him, and you shouldn’t strive for that either. Trust me.”
“Nonono!” Midoriya flails, waving his hands around. “That’s not what I meant! It was more—” His shoulders slump. “When you only ever see Pro Heroes on TV, they seem untouchable. Unshakable. When the media grills Endeavor about Stain’s defeat, he’s going to make it seem like it was easy. ‘All in a day’s work,’ or whatever. ‘He was nothing against the Number Two Hero.’ Pro Heroes never show weakness where civilians can see. But once you get to know them… They’re just human, too.”
(Shouto thinks of the ice-cold anger searing through his veins even as the left side of his face burned. He remembers looking at his father and wondering How could another person be so cruel?)
(But at the end of the day, even the worst villains are also just human, too.)
Every hero has a face they don’t show in public. Endeavor is no different. It’s just that his true nature is likely far more heartless than someone like All Might—an assumption drawn not because All Might is the better hero, but because Midoriya chooses to be associated with him. Shouto is connected to Endeavor by blood. If Midoriya isn’t some secret lovechild, that means he has no forced ties to All Might, so there would be no reason for him to stick around if All Might were like Shouto’s father.
“That’s true,” Shouto admits. “Do you think All Might has ever been in a fight that kept him up at night afterwards?”
Midoriya doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sure of it.”
His conviction rattles Shouto down to the core.
But before he can dwell too much on it, Midoriya turns, swinging his legs over the side of his bed.
“You’re not supposed to be walking yet,” Shouto reminds him.
“I was just gonna sit with you!” he protests.
“Why.”
“So we can talk better. I don’t want to wake up our neighbors.”
Shouto considers this. They’re not being especially loud, and he’s not entirely sure if there’s even anyone in the rooms next to theirs or not. But it is a fair concern—they shouldn’t be bothering innocent civilians, especially when they’re already on thin ice for fighting Stain at all.
(Which Shouto still takes quite a bit of issue with, but it’s not worth fighting over when they were given an easy way out of facing punishment.)
Shouto breathes out a sigh, breath crystallizing as it leaves his lips. “Fine,” he grumbles.
Midoriya starts to move again, then abruptly stops when Shouto stands up himself. He crosses the short distance between their beds, then gestures for Midoriya to move over. He does, though his movements are stilted.
“Why are you—?”
“You wanted to sit closer, and you shouldn’t stand,” Shouto explains. It’s only logical. And since neither of them can sleep, he supposes it would be nice to have some company. Midoriya doesn’t make for a bad companion when he isn’t muttering to himself at a hundred kilometers per hour, entirely disconnected from the world around him.
“Oh,” Midoriya mumbles.
The beds aren’t very big, but there’s enough room for Shouto to sit beside Midoriya and leave a few centimeters of space between them. Because Midoriya’s bed was to the left of Shouto’s, he ends up with Midoriya seated on his left side, meaning he has to turn his head, facing him in order to hear. He should’ve thought this through a bit more, but it’s too late to switch sides now.
Midoriya looks down, twisting his fingers together in his lap. Shouto watches the movement.
“Every time I close my eyes, I just see that fight,” Midoriya whispers. “I know it’s bad, but I can’t stop thinking of what could’ve happened if we’d done even one small thing differently. Would it have gone better? Or would it have been worse? Iida-kun could’ve died—”
“Midoriya-kun,” Shouto interrupts. He’s been fighting back the same thoughts himself, but he imagines he has more experience with this sort of thing than Midoriya does. “Let’s talk about something else.”
He glances up. “Something else?”
Shouto nods. “Merely trying not to think about the fight will only lead to thinking about it more. Distraction is a better tactic in times like these.” He searches for some other thread of conversation—anything, really—and finds his gaze drifting to Midoriya’s hands again. Fingers still twisting around each other. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing.
“How’s your hand?” Shouto blurts out.
“Huh?” The movement stills. “My— Why?”
Shouto immediately regrets the question. But he keeps going anyway. “When you were talking with Iida-kun earlier, you said Recovery Girl informed you there would be permanent damage to your hand after the sports festival. Is it…” Shouto squints, but he really can’t see much in the dark, even this close. “Is it just the scars, or does it hurt?”
“Oh.” Midoriya flexes his hand. “It hurts sometimes. It’s fine if I don’t use it too much, but when I have to do a lot of schoolwork, or if I’ve been working out a lot or something, then the pain starts to flare up. It’s not that bad though, so don’t worry!” He tacks on the last bit quickly, like he’s afraid of the repercussions of what he’s just said.
Of course, it is partially Shouto’s fault that his hand was messed up in the first place. Or maybe entirely Shouto’s fault. Depending on whether or not the hand crusher curse is real.
“Is there anything that helps it?” Shouto wonders aloud. As his burn healed, the scarred skin itched constantly. The doctors prescribed him special cream to put on it, and while the irritation is nowhere near what it used to be, Shouto still has to use the cream on occasion. Is there some sort of cream or medicine that can help Midoriya too?
“Well… Recovery Girl said heat might help. Like a heating pad or something,” Midoriya answers. “My mom lets me use hers, but it’s kind of awkward to use on my hands, ‘cause it was made to help with stomach cramps. Kaminari-kun told me I should try compression gloves, but I…haven’t really had a chance yet.”
Heat?
Shouto looks down at his own hands.
It’s the opposite for him—occasionally, when the scar is bothering him more than usual, he’ll hold his right hand over it, numbing it with cold fingers like a makeshift ice pack. Similarly, Fuyumi will often use her Quirk to help relieve her migraines. Though, Shouto supposes it makes sense that heat would also help with pain. He remembers Fuyumi using heating pads too—but for her stomach rather than her head. Likely similar to Midoriya’s mother.
“Give me your hand,” Shouto instructs.
“Huh?!”
Shouto holds out his left hand. “Give me your hand,” he repeats. “I want to try something.”
Midoriya shrinks back, like he expects Shouto is going to attack. As if he would bother with the state Midoriya is in right now and after they both exhausted themselves in the fight against Stain. They may have been enemies during the sports festival, but shouldn’t it be clear that they’re allies now?
After a moment, Midoriya relents, placing his hand in Shouto’s with a huff. “I don’t understand…”
His voice trails off as Shouto activates his Quirk.
He focuses on slowly raising his temperature, as he does when he wants to melt the frost from his right side. The last thing he wants is to burn Midoriya, but if he limits the amount of power he puts out, he should be able to keep his skin at a comparable temperature to a heating pad. Probably.
“You said your hand hurts when you overuse it,” Shouto comments. “So it stands to reason it would be hurting after that fight.”
Midoriya nods, his gaze glued to their hands. Shouto shifts his grip, so instead of Midoriya’s hand simply resting on top of his, their fingers are entwined.
“Wow,” Midoriya mumbles. He looks up, finally, meeting Shouto’s eyes. “Todoroki-kun, you’re amazing!”
Shouto’s breath catches in his throat.
He can’t explain it. Warmth spills through him—equally on both sides of his body—and his temperature flares briefly, though he works quickly to tame it before it hurts Midoriya. Something akin to dread, or maybe excitement, bubbles up in his stomach, and he has to tear his gaze away from Midoriya’s face. Because this close, even in the dark, he can clearly make out the earnest smile he wears.
The smile that Shouto himself is the reason for.
He coughs into his shoulder. “It’s…not a big deal. Really.”
“Maybe for you, but— To be able to use your Quirk for something like this— It must take an incredible amount of control!”
Of course it does. But that’s something that is only expected of the Number Two Hero’s son, one of four students in his year admitted to U.A. on recommendation, and the one who came in second place at the sports festival. Even after years of refusing to use his left side, it’s been fairly simple for Shouto to apply the same tactics for control that he uses with his right side. It is the same Quirk, after all.
It’s Shouto’s Quirk.
And he’s using it to offer physical comfort to Midoriya.
If anyone were to ask, he’d say it’s because he feels responsible for Midoriya’s injury. And because he knows what it’s like for a wound to permanently alter your life. His scar may not cause pain anymore, but his vision and hearing on his left side are near-completely gone, and the itching irritation can be just as distracting as pain.
But no one can see them right now.
So Shouto lets his list of possible excuses dissipate, instead admiring the way Midoriya’s fingers look folded with his. He’d like to spend more time studying his hands—in the light, so he can properly appreciate them. He would run his own fingers over Midoriya’s scars and calluses, committing the map of his skin to memory. And then he would continue holding on, ignoring the discomfort of a higher body temperature so long as it meant he could offer Midoriya some relief from his pain.
“Is it helping?”
“O-oh,” Midoriya stammers. “Yeah! Thanks.”
Shouto hums in response. Belatedly, he thinks he could have suggested Midoriya try hand warmers or something.
Selfishly, he much prefers this.
It’s not feasible all of the time—or even most of the time—but if Midoriya ever wanted to use him as a heating pad again… Shouto wouldn’t say no. It’s much nicer than he thought.
Then again, he’s known for a while now that Midoriya makes for good company.
“Todoroki-kun?”
“Hm?”
“I think I need a distraction again.”
It takes Shouto a moment to figure out what he means. Then, he remembers their earlier conversation—about how turning your thoughts towards some specific other thing is the best way to suppress the bad thoughts you’re trying to avoid. Midoriya must be starting to spiral over Stain again.
Shouto searches for something to say, but he doubts there’s anything Midoriya would be interested in. Between the two of them, Midoriya is the one known for talking.
“Tell me about something you’re interested in,” Shouto suggests.
“Really?”
Shouto nods. “Quirk analysis or Pro Heroes or whatever.”
Midoriya hesitates. “You’re sure? I’ve been told it can kind of be…a lot.”
“I’m sure,” Shouto assures him. If it comes down to it, he can always just tune Midoriya out. But most likely, Midoriya will start rambling, expend the rest of his energy quickly, and then crash.
“O-okay. Well…” With his free hand, Midoriya tugs at the collar of his shirt. “I guess you probably know a lot about all of the Pro Heroes already, since Endeavor is your dad. Oh, but I know about some of the older ones too! Like, even older than All Might. There was this one called Albatross…”
As Shouto listens to Midoriya talk, his eyelids begin to droop. He thought for sure Midoriya would be the first to fall asleep between them, but as time goes on, Midoriya’s energy doesn’t seem to falter while Shouto is only growing more and more tired.
He doesn’t realize his eyes have fallen shut until his head thumps softly against…something. Midorya’s voice falters for a moment, but Shouto doesn’t think much of it. His thoughts are all fuzzy around the edges, and he’s having trouble grasping onto any of them for longer than a few seconds at a time. He just knows he’s comfortable, and he likes listening to Midoriya talk, and he likes the feeling of Midoriya’s hand in his. He doubts it’s even offering much warmth anymore, considering he’s too tired to keep up constant use of his Quirk, but Midoriya hasn’t let go yet.
Shouto certainly isn’t complaining.
He must drift off to sleep at some point, because when he next opens his eyes, he’s laying down on his back with Midoriya curled up against his side.
He’s shocked back into reality like he was submerged into a pool of ice water, and his body temperature fluctuates wildly for a split-second before he manages to wrestle it back under control.
Luckily, Midoriya doesn’t stir.
Shouto contemplates getting up and returning to his own bed, but the last thing he wants is to wake Midoriya, and he fears there’s no way he can make an escape without doing that.
He breathes in, then out. Turns his head so he can get a better look at Midoriya.
It’s not as if anyone else is here. And it’s not as if Midoriya is the type of person to go around talking about this at school. It’ll be like the fight against Stain— No one besides the two of them needs to know the truth.
Shouto lets his body relax, exhaling slowly.
With the comforting weight of Midoriya against him, he closes his eyes and drifts back to sleep.