Chapter Text
The rain had soaked through Shouto’s jacket, effectively stopping it from its intended purpose of keeping him warm. Adding shivering on top of his already awkward stumbling down the sidewalk just made it all the harder to get to his destination. He needed to get to Natsuo’s, but every step had his chest aching and set his head throbbing. Hitting his head off that chair hadn’t hurt too bad in the moment, but the pain increased with almost every movement.
The characters on the street sign blurred together, but he could just pick out what it said if he tried to focus hard enough. With another shiver and an ill-thought impulse, he pulled his saturated coat tighter around himself and turned down the road.
“Just... a few more blocks,” he whispered to himself. He was so cold, but he was almost there.
It was a sudden involuntary yawn that drew his attention from the slow trek forward to the pain in his right cheek. He reached up to it gently and realized that while the rest of his body felt impossibly cold, his cheekbone was swollen and almost hot to the touch. The injury didn’t sting too much as he felt around it, but when he pulled his hand away, a few of his fingers were tinged with red. He stared at the color numbly, faintly thinking he should be worried about it, but he was unsure of why.
“Huh.” Shouto shrugged and resumed his trek.
Though it felt like an indeterminately long haze of slow progress to him, he arrived at Natsuo’s apartment less than ten minutes later. With a wet shaking hand, he pulled the door open and stepped into the lobby. Less of a lobby and more a large hallway with three vending machines and two elevators, there was no one there to watch Shouto press the elevator button and lean against the wall in exhaustion while he waited.
The ding of the doors opening had him startling awake from his slowly drifting state, spurring him into action to walk into the elevator. Once he found himself inside, he came across a problem.
“What… is it two-twenty-one or… one-twenty-one?” he mumbled under his breath as he blinked at the floor numbers in front of him. He closed his eyes in an attempt to physically think harder, but that only served to send his head throbbing more. With a defeated sigh, Shouto shrugged and hit the button for the second floor.
“Two-twenty-one sounds right.”
He dozed off again during the twenty seconds it took to get to his selected floor and jumped awake at the chime again, eliciting a groan as it jostled his head too much. Just managing to exit the elevator before the doors closed, Shouto leaned against the far wall of the hallway as he finished what was hopefully the last stretch of the most challenging walk of his life.
His father had hit him before, but never this bad, and he’d never had to go any farther than the bathroom to clean himself up or his bedroom to pass out afterward. But that was exactly why he needed to walk this far. It was the worst he’d ever been beaten, and he couldn’t take it anymore.
When he looked up from staring at the patterned carpet under his shoes, he looked at the door plate and let out a sigh of relief. He gave a weak knock on the hard wooden door of apartment two-twenty-one and waited.
He was so grateful to finally be there that he was already moving to enter when the door opened. But when the man that opened the door had black hair instead of the shorter spiked-up white he was expecting, he paused.
“Can I help you?” The man asked, a worried expression on his face. His voice is nice, Shouto thinks, something he could listen to for hours.
“...You’re not Natsuo,” he said dumbly, though it was all he could think of in his hazy state. His mind was a broken mess, and he felt lost in it. Where does Natsuo live?
The lanky man at the door let out a light confused laugh and shook his head. “I’m sorry, no, I’m Sero Hanta…”
Shouto vaguely processed Sero’s eyes, searching his face and then sticking to where he remembered he was bleeding from. He knew he must look awful, definitely not what someone would want to see at their door.
“M’ sorry for bothering you then,” he begins, realizing that it was late and Sero must’ve been asleep. “I’ll just go.”
He started to turn back to the elevator, but Sero stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Shouto looked back at him and saw him pause, taking a moment to put his head down as if he was having a mental fight with himself. When his eyes met Shouto’s again, he was chewing on his bottom lip.
“Just, wait. You’re bleeding and clearly not okay. I’m not just gonna let you wander around.” Sero’s hand dropped from his shoulder. “Why don’t you come in? I’ll try and do my best to fix you up.”
Shouto considered it for a moment. He really should be going to Natsuo’s, but he only planned on going there to get away from the house and to get help for everything that hurt. The man was offering that anyway, and he really wasn’t sure if he could find Natsuo’s at this point. He was too out of it to be paranoid about the man, so he nodded in his decision. “Okay.”
Sero smiled at him and guided him inside the apartment, which Shouto barely took in until he was sitting on a comfy couch. Even then, he only had the presence of mind to pick up that the room was on the smaller side, and there was a large flat screen on the wall in front of him with dozens of wires hanging from behind it. His eyes dragged down to the multiple consoles on the shelf below the television when a hand waved in front of his face.
“Hey, man, you there?” Sero asked, sitting down next to him and placing a first aid kit on the small coffee table. When Shouto turned to face him, his lips pressed in a thin line. “You’re pretty busted up, bud.”
Shouto hummed his agreement. “N’cold,” he said, just as an opportunely timed shiver wracked his body.
A ghost of a laugh left Sero’s lips, and he reached to help Shouto remove the rain-soaked weight of a jacket. “Then let’s get you warmed up.”
It was a process to get the damned thing off his shoulders since it clung to his body and pulled at his shirt underneath as Sero worked to get it off. Once it was off, it dropped onto the hard floor with a splat. His shirt underneath was damp but not wet enough, apparently to warrant stripping it too. Shouto closed his eyes as he felt the man take his shoes off for him and take the soaked-through socks off his feet. The sound of footsteps going away and returning played in Shouto’s ears, and then there was a heavenly soft blanket being draped around him.
The couch shifted next to him and squinted an eye open to watch as Sero pulled a wet cloth out of the first aid kit and leaned towards him. Before it touched his head, the man hesitated again. “I know you’re here, so I can help you out, but I just want to clarify that you’re alright with me touching you, right?”
He talked slowly, which Shouto was grateful for since it made it easier to understand. “Uh-huh.”
Sero breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, cool. Just wanted to check.” Then the cloth was gently wiping away the blood off Shouto’s face. The pressure wasn’t enough to hurt the bruising that was there, but Shouto still closed his eyes as the other man worked.
He was content to sit there, and he started drifting off to sleep, but Sero apparently didn’t want to work in silence. “So, I-uh just realized I never got your name,” he said as he finished up cleaning the dried blood and pulled away to grab something else.
“Todo-roki… Shouto,” he yawned as his body fought off the exhaustion. There was a finger then against his eyebrow, rubbing some kind of ointment around gently.
“That’s a nice name,” Sero said genuinely, leaving Shouto to flounder as he tried to figure out if that was a compliment or not. “And why are you all beat up and knocking on people’s doors at this time at night, Todoroki?”
Shouto’s eyebrows pulled together at that. He hadn’t exactly been knocking on doors randomly. He was trying to look for his brother. He said as much to Sero, who hummed in response.
“So Natsuo’s your brother.” His finger left Shouto’s face and returned to press a bandage against the same spot on his eyebrow. “But, why are you out looking for him?”
Shouto didn’t hesitate to put his thoughts together this time, the answer coming easily to his lips. “To get away from my dad,” he said, just as Sero was beginning to apply another ointment on his cheek.
The ministrations stopped then, and Shouto cracked open his eyes to see Sero staring at him with wide eyes. “Something wrong?”
Sero’s eyes flickered away from him for a moment before quickly returning. “Does- did, did your dad do this to you?” He asked, entirely focused on the conversation now.
Shouto wasn’t sure why Sero was nervous to ask the question. It wasn’t too strange to assume, right. Enji hit him all the time, and while he knew most other fathers didn’t do that to their children, it wasn’t unheard of. “Yes?”
“Oh,” Sero breathed, nodding slowly as his eyes went unfocused, and he began chewing his lip again.
Shouto squinted at him, scared something was wrong. Was it what he said? He hoped it wasn’t. Sero was very kind to him, and he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He pulled his feet up onto the couch so he could hug his knees to his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath, unable to look the man in the eye. Out of his peripherals, he noticed a quick movement of Sero’s head shaking.
“What?” His voice was slightly higher pitched than before. “I- there’s nothing to be sorry about. I- well, I’m sorry, I zoned out there for a bit. I just…” Shouto turned his head to him again and watched as Sero ran a hand through his hair.
“Your dad beat you up like this?” He asked though Shouto didn’t know why he needed clarification. That’s what he said before. But it sounded like Sero didn’t believe it.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He nodded, taking a deep breath. His exhale was shaky. “I’m very sorry about that.”
As Sero brought his hand back up to Shouto’s face and picked up where he left off, he shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“Your father hitting you isn’t fine,” he argued, his face screwed into a frown.
“He’s done it my whole life.” Shouto winced, not at what he just admitted but at Sero as he pressed a little too hard against Shouto’s cheek. He hissed, and the two jerked away from each other.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, here.” Sero coaxed Shouto towards him and inspected the spot on his cheekbone. “Your cheek is a little more bruised than I thought. He- he got you pretty bad… He’s always hit you like this?”
Shouto nodded, then shut his eyes tightly as the pounding in his skull increased. He lifted a hand to rest against the back of his head. “Well, never this bad.”
It was then that Sero finished rubbing ointment on his face and pulled away. “Is your head alright?”
Shouto cracked an eye open to see the other man looking at him in concern. “I hit it pretty hard,” he admitted and paused for a moment before adding, “I fell and hit a chair… when he pushed me.”
Not for the first time, Sero’s eyes softened, and he stared at Shouto with something his muddled brain couldn’t place. Maybe because he’d never seen it before, or maybe he’d just forgotten. All he knew was it made him want to squirm under the attention.
After a moment, Sero sighed. “Was something different this time?”
“I don’t- I don’t know,” he said immediately, without even giving himself a chance to think. Nothing had been different, had it? What made his father hit him like that? More accurately, what did he do to make his father hit him like that?
Shouto felt a sting behind his eyes as he replayed the day in his mind. When he finally started to grasp at an answer, the first tears began to fall. “No. I pushed him back. I tried to stop him…” His breaths quicked, chest tightening as he continued. “I dropped out of med-school today, it upset him, he… then he started yelling about mom and T-touya and allthisotherstuffand I just, couldn’t- I pushed him back ,” he finished, the last word coming out as a sob. A shudder wracked his entire body, shaking him violently enough to send another spike of pain through him, his head, face, and torso now as well. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and though they continued to well in his eyes, through the blurriness, he saw Sero lean towards him.
“Hey-hey, shhh.” Shouto felt a hand on his back as Sero rubbed in gentle circles. He didn’t stop or move his hand away until Shouto’s sobs started to slow. When Shouto crying calmed down to just sniffles, Sero spoke again. “You don’t need to talk about it. I should’ve figured it would make you upset. I’m sorry.”
“S’okay.” Sero handed him a tissue box, and he accepted it. “I shouldn’t be crying. I should be used to this.”
Shouto was in the middle of wiping his tears when he felt Sero’s hand on his shoulder. Glancing over at him, he was met with dark eyes and a sincere expression. “It’s okay to cry.”
Shouto took a sharp breath in at the words. He’d never heard that before; nobody had ever said it to him. His father always spoke the opposite. Fuyumi had always told him to stop crying when he was younger, a harsh scared whisper that always shocked him. Even his mother, no matter that it was a way of calming him, would always say don’t cry. Despite his whole life being told otherwise, Shouto felt he believed Sero was right.
Sniffling lightly, Shouto nodded slowly.
A gentle smile formed on Sero’s face, and he gave Shouto’s shoulder a pat before pulling it away and standing up. “I’m gonna go get you an ice pack for your head.”
Shouto sat back and tried to relax. He was so tired. So tired that when Sero returned with the cold pack, all Shouto could do was lean into the other man’s shoulder.
A slight noise came from Sero, but he was hardly paying attention as the cold from the ice pack rested on the sorest spot on his head. Shouto sighed in relief and closed his eyes.
“So um, why’d you drop out of med school? I-if you don’t mind me asking,” Sero asked, though Shouto vaguely registered a hint of embarrassment in his higher-pitched voice.
Shouto tensed. He just wanted to go to sleep, but Sero was asking, so he felt compelled to answer. “...I don’t want to do it anymore. I- well, I never wanted to. It was always his, always dad’s plan. He wanted me to be some great surgeon like he was and I don’t-” The burn in his eyes returned along with a cottony feeling in his head. “I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to have to listen to him anymore. One of my professors... told me I should stand up to him.”
“Did it feel good? Standing up to him?”
“I thought it would. It did at first when I unenrolled, but now-” he inhaled, and the tears started falling again. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
Now, as he sat leaning against Sero, who was little more than a stranger, he cried. It wasn’t violent sobbing like before, only silent tears and the occasional sniffle. Sero didn’t ask any more questions after that, letting Shouto fall into his thoughts and eventually to sleep.
-
-
It was the sunlight streaming through the windows that woke Shouto up. Which confused him for a moment because he had black-out curtains in his room, and they were always closed. His eyes adjusted to the brightness, and it became clear he wasn’t in his room. Thinking about last night made his head hurt, but he remembered enough to know he made it to Natsuo’s apartment.
Sitting up on Natsuo’s couch and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Shouto yawned loudly. His cheek didn’t immediately sting, which he figured was a good sign that whatever help he got last night worked well. He slept alright too, which doesn’t exactly seem right since he slept on the couch, but he must’ve been too depleted of energy to sleep restlessly.
That bone-deep exhaustion was gone now, replaced by a nice sense of comfort and safety. He hadn’t realized just how taxing it was at home with his father. It had gotten to the point where even when he was out of the house or his father wasn’t home, he felt on edge. If this is what it felt like to be away from him, Shouto didn’t want to leave it.
“Oh! Morning,” a voice that was distinctly NOT Natsuo called, startling Shouto as he whipped his head towards it. His eyes settled on black hair and a soft cheesy smile standing behind a kitchen island, and he blinked. That’s right, Sero. Not at Natsuo’s.
“Morning,” he managed to grunt out of his tired throat.
Sero moved to the cabinet to his left and pulled out two colorful and strangely-shaped ceramic mugs. Turning back to Shouto, he lifted them up. “D’you want some tea? Breakfast, maybe?”
“I uh,” he paused to clear his throat. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Sero shook his head and waved Shouto over. “Not at all. I figure you need to eat something. It’ll help you recover.”
As he stood and made his way over to one of the tall stools that sat around the island, Shouto was struck by how kind this man was. It was obvious in retrospect, but the night before, he was too out of it to grasp.
“Here ya go,” Sero said and slid the tea over, just as Shouto was sitting down.
“Thank you.” Before taking a sip, Shouto takes a moment to just look at the cup he was handed. Bright orange and shaped liked a small vase, it was thin around the top and bottom and widest at the center. The handle caught Shouto’s eye, as it looked like a small lizard or salamander with black and orange spots sticking to the side of the cup. Complete with large eyes, intricate little toes, and a glossy finish, it was very detailed and well made.
“This is cool,” he admitted, hoping it was a decent compliment. Being friendly and keeping up a conversation was the least he could do for Sero, who had done so much for him.
“Huh?” Sero looked over his shoulder from where he was preparing breakfast on the stove. His eyes lit up. “Oh! Thank you. I made it myself.”
Shouto’s eyebrows rose up to his hairline. “Really? Wow. That’s uh, even cooler then.” He meant it sincerely, but it came out more awkward than he intended, causing him to wince. Sero didn’t seem to notice or care, as he had turned back to his cooking, but he didn’t say anything else, spurring Shouto into speaking more out of nervousness.
“You uh, do you make a lot of cups?” He said, closing his eyes for a moment. That totally didn’t sound weird.
Sero let out a light chuckle. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I make ‘em for a living,” he said, lifting a hand and pointing to the edge of the counter. Cluttered with papers and plastic boxes, Shouto read the small poster-board sign that read Sero’s Ceramics . “More than just cups, though.”
“Yeah?” Shouto asked, taking a sip of his tea which he noted was very good.
“Yep! I make specialty handmade dining ware, so cups, plates, bowls, spoons, chopsticks, and also things like vases, sometimes coasters, platters, trinkets, and the occasional sculpture if someone really believes in me.” Shouto could hear the smile in his voice.
“That’s cool.” He needed to stop using that word. Shouto watched Sero nod, and his gaze fixed on his silky dark hair. The man had an undercut, but the ponytail he had in was long enough to brush at the nape of his neck. Moving down from there, he noticed the surprising amount of defined muscle along his shoulders and back that was peeking out from his thin orange tank. Perhaps that came from his job. Shouto supposed he needed muscle to work with clay.
Realizing the conversation lulled while he got distracted by his staring, Shouto spurred into action with the first question he could think of. “So, is business… good?”
“Mhm-mm. I got lucky enough to have some local shops buying things, and my website got the attention of some richer folks that buy entire sets. It keeps me busy, but I definitely can’t complain.”
Shouto nodded but didn’t know how else to respond. Fortunately, Sero finished his cooking and turned around to set a plate in front of Shouto and one for himself. “Here, ya go.”
Shouto put his hands together. “Itadakimasu,” he said, managing a smile, then grabbing his chopsticks. Before he dug into the simple meal of white rice, natto, and salmon, he quickly studied the intricate painting on the chopsticks and what he could see on the molding of the plate.
They ate mostly in silence, but there was an occasion or two where Shouto would awkwardly ask a question, and Sero would answer with enthusiasm.
“How long have you done ceramics as a career?”
“Six years now. Since I was twenty.” Shouto hadn’t had a follow-up question to that, as he planned on asking Sero’s age next. A few minutes passed before he could think of another one.
“And you… enjoy it, I assume?”
“Yeah, definitely. I’ve been doing pottery and ceramics for a long time. My uncle taught me forever ago, and I just always loved it.”
“That’s good.” Those were the last words either of them said until they had cleaned their plates and finished their tea. After wiping at his mouth with a napkin, Sero cleared his throat and aimed a careful look at Shouto.
“Okay. So, I know this is a little personal, but you told me a few things last night that were a little… concerning.” Shouto tensed, trying to figure out what exactly this was going to be about. He didn’t entirely forget what had happened, but his memory wasn’t a hundred percent clear on what he had said. Was Sero scared of something, or was he going to ask questions? He could vaguely remember some questions that were asked the night before, but he couldn’t be sure about anything. “I guess I was just wondering what your plans were for when you leave.”
Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, Shouto relaxed a little. No confrontation of anything, just concern. But it was a good question. What was his plan?
“I uh, well, I think I’m going to go to my brother’s-”
“Natsuo?”
Shouto blinked at the interjection, confused for a moment but quickly recovered. “Yeah, Natsuo’s apartment and see if maybe I can stay there,” he finished confidently. That faltered as he remembered a small detail that hadn’t crossed his mind until then. “But- yeah, um Natsuo has roommates. So I might not be able to stay there too long.”
Sero nodded slowly, his brows drawn together in a look of solicitude. “So, do you have an idea of what you’ll do if you can’t stay?”
“I’ll probably just have to go home,” he sighed. “I don’t have any-”
“I’m sorry if this isn’t my place, but there’s no way you’re going back there.” Sero’s voice was stern and louder than before, but it startled Shouto more than it scared him. It was nice, noticing that this was likely coming from a place of worry and concern for his well-being, but there wasn’t much he could say.
“I. Well, I don’t, I’d have to-”
“If it’s a matter of needing a place to stay, you can stay here with me,” Sero interrupted him again. “I have a second bedroom that hasn’t been used in months since my roommate left to live with his girlfriend. I know I’m practically a stranger, and it might be a little awkward, but from the things you said last night and the way you were, it’s gotta be way better than going back home, right?”
Eyes wide, Shouto was frozen in shock. Sero had already done so much for him, and no matter how awfully his father had raised him, he knew how to be grateful for things he’d done. However, he didn’t know how someone could be so kind to offer such a thing. Sero made the point that he was a stranger inviting someone to stay, but wasn’t it just as bad the other way? Inviting a stranger into his home. Heat rose in Shouto’s cheeks.
“I- Thank you… very much, Sero. But I, I don’t, I can’t take advantage of you like that. It’s very generous of you, but I…” Shouto ran a hand down his face as he struggled with the words. It seemed to be a common theme for him.
“It’s not taking advantage if I’m offering. I just really wanna help.” Sero took the opportunity to grab their empty dishes and move them to the sink. The action making the statement seem casual.
Shouto was still looking for words when Sero turned back around. “Look, I know it’s a little weird, but how about I give you my phone number, so when you go to your brother’s if the two of you can’t figure something out, you know my place is an option. How’s that sound?”
A large hand with long, calloused fingers extended to Shouto. He only studied those dark, honest eyes for a moment before he took Sero’s hand and shook it.
“Great!” Sero chimed a wide grin spanning his features. He pulled his hand away and moved to grab a paper and pencil out of a drawer under the counter. “So here’s my number… and uh, before you go, I’d like to reapply some of that healing ointment to those bruises.”
Chipper as can be, Sero left the room to retrieve the first aid kit as Shouto made his way to the couch. Just as the night before, Sero was gentle as ever as he rubbed the cream on Shouto’s face.
-
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-
Shouto hadn’t even bothered taking the elevator down one damn floor, instead taking the stairs to apartment one-twenty-one. He shook his head sadly at his concussed self before knocking on the door.
For a moment, he was terrified that he got the apartment number wrong again. Had Natsuo moved or something? The blonde broad-shouldered gym-rat guy that had opened the door considered him for a second, light pink eyes blinking at him in confusion and then lighting up.
“Oh hey, you’re Natsuo’s, right?” Shouto opened his mouth to answer but was beat to it. “Natsuo! Your brother’s here!”
The guy yelled over his shoulder significantly louder than Shouto thought was necessary. It didn’t help how his voice practically shook the ground with the way it boomed.
The guy turned back around and smirked down at Shouto. “Aside from that nice shiner on your face, you’re a lot hotter in person than you are in Natsuo’s pictures,” he commented casually and moved out of the doorway clumsily, waving Shouto inside with a powerful wave.
Stepping in the room hesitantly, Shouto tried to hide the blush on his cheeks by looking around anywhere that wasn’t in the direction of the guy who let him in. From what he saw, Natsuo’s hadn’t changed much from the last time he’d been there. Other than a new, very confident, very muscular, and very forward roommate, he was never told about.
“So it’s Shouto, right?” The guy spoke up again.
Once again, just as Shouto was about to respond, he was interrupted. It was becoming a frightening pattern now.
“Shouto?” Finally, it was Natsuo. He sounded happy, excited even, to see him, but the moment Shouto turned to him, his face dropped. There was no sign of surprise, only somber acceptance. His icy eyes flickered in the direction of the other person in the room before returning to Shouto. “How about we talk in my room?”
Exchanging an understanding glance, they silently walked down the small hallway, leaving Natsuo’s roommate to awkwardly call after them that he was going for a run. The air was tenser than Shouto would’ve liked, knowing what Natsuo must be holding in.
The door hadn’t even fully closed before it rushed out. “What the hell did he do to you this time, Sho?” Hearing the pain in Natsuo’s voice as he pulled Shouto into a crushing hug made his eyes burn. It’d been too long since he’d seen his brother, and their relationship had never been smooth, but he always knew that his brother loved him to hell and back.
He returned the embrace with as much energy as he could muster. “Aren’t you going to ask what I did this time?” he attempted at a joke, but he never really was good at those.
Natsuo pulled away sharply, holding Shouto back so he could stare pointedly at him. “It’s never your fault, Sho.”
“I know, I was just… never mind.” He stopped himself from explaining, figuring it wasn’t really worth it. He shook his head.
“Come sit,” Natsuo said, pulling him over to his small unmade bed. “So why are you here?”
Shouto took a deep inhale and proceeded to exhale the whole story. Starting at dropping out of school and ending at leaving Sero’s. It wasn’t as hard explaining it this time, perhaps because he’d already let it all out before with Sero. He might’ve taken time to think more on that, but Natsuo was resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Oh my god, Shou. I mean I’m split between giving you another hug because I can’t fucking believe he did that and getting you a cake or some soba or something to congratulate you on that pie to the face you gave him.” Natsuo let out a soft chuckle, his face set in something like disbelief.
Two-toned brows pulled together until a crease formed in between. “Thanks?”
“You are welcome,” Natsuo said decisively. He stood up and started pacing, looking up the ceiling and then back at Shouto. “I mean, that was ballsy, and I'm super proud of you.”
Shouto nodded, watching as Natsuo’s bright grin slowly began to fade as a new thought seemed to come to him. “But um, what are you going to do now?”
“That’s kinda why I came here. I know it's a stretch, Natsuo, but could I stay here for a while? Until I get myself together.” His confidence faltered as he spoke. The way Natsuo phrased his question suggested his unfortunate answer.
Natsuo’s face fell further, confirming Shouto’s fear. “I don’t know how to say this, Sho. You gotta believe me. I want to say yes so frickin’ bad, but I- You could stay on the couch for a night or two, but Sho, this apartment is really only meant for two people, and we already got three crammed in here. I don’t think I can. Fuck Sho, I’m sorry.”
Shouto’s head started nodding, and at a certain point, he couldn't make it stop. “No, no, it’s okay. I knew this was… a possibility.” He swallowed around the hard lump that had formed in his throat. “It’s not your fault. I know if you could, you would.”
Natsuo sighed and moved to drag his hand down his face. “I'm sorry.”
Shouto nodded again and looked away. His eyes focused on nothing but were turned toward the pale blue on Natsuo’s bedroom wall and the small band poster hanging there. His ears felt clogged with rejection, and uncertainty settled in his stomach.
Silence had settled on the two for some time, both in their heads. Then Natsuo cleared his throat. “So um, what's your backup plan?” He asked innocently, a small hopeful smile on his face.
Shouto blinked once slowly, processing, then glanced at his brother and shrugged. “Go home.”
“No!” The volume that came from Natsuo had Shouto jumping a solid inch off the mattress. As he winced in pain at the sharp movement agitating his injuries, Natsuo laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sorry about that. I, just- you can’t go back there, Sho. Not after what you told me.”
Running a hand through his hair, Shouto shook his head. “Natsuo, there's nothing else for me to do.”
“What about Fuyumi?” It was Natsuo’s turn to be nervous, as he threw out the option.
“Can’t. She’ll tell dad where I am. If he knows, then there isn’t really a point in trying to not go home.”
“You don't-” Natsuo stopped his argument before it could substantially start. They both knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. “Yeah, you're right. But still, you can't go back there!”
Shouto was more than shocked when his hand was grabbed, and he saw the unmistakable wetness in Natsuo’s eyes. “It’ll just be worse. He’ll hit you again, make you go back to school-You can’t, Sho. Isn’t there anything else? A friend from school… a classmate, anything?”
Natsuo looked just about as desperate as Shouto felt. If it weren’t for Natsuo asking, so intensely, and practically begging for Shouto to say there was another option, Shouto might have just hung his head and gone home. But Natsuo’s grip on his hand tightened as he waited for Shouto to assuage or intensify his fear.
“Well…” Shouto started, his eyes falling away from his brothers. “Sero- uh t-the guy I stayed with overnight, he- he said, if I really needed it, that I, that I could stay with him.”
The effect was immediate. Natsuo squeezed his hand tighter and practically whooped in excitement. “Well, there you go! Go there!” He said it as if it was the simplest, easiest thing ever, but Shouto couldn’t feel the same. Nerves wriggled and fought in his stomach, and he felt himself clenching his jaw as Natsuo continued. “You’d be right upstairs anyway, so I could see you all the time and check up on you. It’s perfect.”
“But I don’t want to take advantage of him,” Shouto said much the same as he had earlier. “It’s not his problem that I ran away from home and don’t want to go back.”
Natsuo lifted a snowy white eyebrow. “It's not taking advantage if he’s offering.”
Hearing those words earlier from Sero had Shouto freezing, feeling the genuine concerned offer and generosity from him; hearing them again and from his brother… Shouto leveled Natsuo with an unamused deadpan expression.
Natsuo chuckled lightly and brought an arm around Shouto into an awkward half-hug. “C’mon. I mean, if you feel bad, get a job and chip in on rent. That way, you’re just a new roommate. There’s nothing wrong with that. Right?”
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“Can I take you up on that offer?” He hadn’t even bothered calling the number Sero gave him earlier. He’d just gone back upstairs and knocked. He was unable to meet the other man’s eyes as he stood in the doorway, his hands grasped together nervously. “I don’t have any money right now, but I’ll get a job, and I’ll pay rent .”
His eyes flicked up to Sero to see a gentle smile pull at his lips. “You can stay as long as you need.”