Chapter Text
When Shouto wakes, he is alone. The room he’s in is white and sterile and there is a quiet beeping coming from his bedside. Hospital, he quickly realizes. The quiet in the room is deafening but Shouto’s tired and beaten body doesn’t want to move just yet. He closes his eyes again. His mind tries to drift off into a dream but he jolts back awake when the image tries to take form. Flames. Hot, blue flames.
The heart monitor begins to beep faster by his bedside and the noise startles him more. He finds the monitor clipped to his finger and yanks it off, only causing the machine to beep louder in alarm. Shouto yanks the plug on the whole machine.
Quiet.
The silence settles into his bones but it feels so suddenly suffocating, not relaxing. Before he can stop himself he’s out of the bed and on his feet. He stumbles to put on the slippers by his bed, catching the bedside table to stable his trembling legs. As he clutches the table he notices a small pad of paper with a note on it. He picks it up and reads.
My brave Shouto,
If you are reading this, then you must’ve woken up in the night. We will be at your side again when visiting hours start in the morning. You did so well, we are all so proud of you. Please try to put your mind at ease and rest. We love you.
Mom
While the letter settles his heart a bit, it doesn’t settle the racing thoughts in his head. There is a growing pit in his stomach and he doesn’t quite know what to do. So he slides open the door to his room and slinks into the hallway. It’s a bit louder out there, but still quiet. He doesn’t see many nurses or doctors running about and the ones he does see are buried in their charts, filing through medication drawers, digging through supplies. He figures they must be exhausted, caring for so many injured. No one notices him as he slips down the hall, wandering aimlessly. He doesn’t really know what he’s looking for until he finds it. At the end of the hall there is a common room, with comfy chairs and a rack of ancient magazines. Sitting in a wheelchair, gazing thoughtfully out the window is his best friend.
He tries not to run to him, his walk brisk instead. Midoriya’s senses have sharpened over the last year, and while Todoroki used to scare Midoriya with his near silent footfall he doesn’t this time. He’s still ten feet away when Izuku’s eyes turn to him, a small smile lighting his face when he sees who it is. He tries to wave but both of his arms are in full casts, so mostly his fingers just wiggle. Seeing him alive and awake takes another stone off the pile on Shouto’s chest.
“Midoriya,” he says. Hearing how hoarse his own voice is is startling, but not surprising.
“Todoroki,” Midoriya responds, that magic smile still on his face. It’s a bit dimmer than it used to be, but it’s still full of the same warmth.
Shouto sits in the chair next to him. He opens his mouth to speak but realizes he has no idea what he wants to say. It snaps shut again after a moment, his jaw tight.
“How are you holding up?” Midoriya asks. His voice is quiet and calm, like he’s trying not to scare away a frightened animal.
Shouto opens his mouth to speak again, but once more nothing comes. His mind is like a hurricane, swirling with thoughts and feelings he doesn’t know how to sort through. He doesn’t even know how to begin to sort through them. When his brain finally decides that question is too difficult to answer he responds, “I should be asking you that.”
Midoriya’s smile falls a tiny bit, but only for a moment. Then it quirks up at the ends, falling into a smirk instead.
“I asked you first,” he says teasingly. But Shouto understands from the way his eyes shimmer with unshed, held back tears. He’s not ready to talk about it yet. Just like Shouto.
Todoroki sighs, his breath shuddering on the way out. He looks out the window, at the broken city. When his words find him again he speaks quietly.
“I can’t think straight,” Shouto admits. “I don’t know what I should be feeling right now.”
Izuku nods, a look of understanding in his green eyes. Shouto knows he understands; he’s probably feeling something pretty similar right now.
“Is he–?” Midoriya’s voice cuts off in trepidation, thinking maybe he shouldn’t even ask.
Shouto’s eyes are glued to the skyline, or what’s left of it, glimmering outside the window. He’s unable to meet Izuku’s eyes right now.
“He was. The last I saw him. I–” Shouto’s throat goes dry and he has to swallow hard before he can continue, “I just woke up. Nobody’s told me anything yet.”
Izuku’s eyes narrow, questioning the decisions made there. Nobody stayed the night? Shouto doesn’t see Izuku’s grimace, his eyes still refusing to leave the glowing night sky.
“I don’t know what’s better honestly,” Shouto admits, so quietly Izuku has to take a moment to process what he said.
When Izuku doesn't respond right away Shouto continues, “He killed people. He needs to be punished for what he's done. But…he’s sick. I don’t think he deserves to die.”
Izuku hums in response, making sure Todoroki knows he’s listening. But he knows Shouto is not done speaking so he doesn’t speak yet. He lets Shouto gather his thoughts more.
“He…His body is destroyed. I don’t know how he could even be living, after all that,” Shouto huffs another quivering sigh. “But what if he is? Then what? They lock him in a cell? Let him live on like that? He–he’d be in misery.”
Shouto’s eyes finally leave the window, moving now to glare at his hands in his lap.
“He doesn’t deserve that,” he says, fists clenching so tightly it hurts. He feels tears finally welling in his eyes, quickly trying to wipe them before Midoriya sees. Although he’s not sure why, since Midoriya would never fault him for crying.
Izuku’s heart clenches painfully at seeing Shouto’s tears. He’s only seen him tear up once or twice, which is miniscule considering everything Shouto’s been through. But Izuku knows better than to acknowledge those tears, especially now. Saying something would only fluster Shouto and shut him down.
“I just don’t know where to go from here,” Shouto sniffles, still trying to wipe away his tears. But they just keep falling. He grits his teeth in obvious frustration.
Izuku tilts his head slightly. “What do you mean?” he asks gently.
“I mean…what is my family going to do? If he’s alive? If he’s dead? What do we do now? I don’t know what’ll happen. I don’t know what I want to happen. Things were starting to get better. I don’t want it to all fall apart again.” Todoroki sighs so hard this time that it’s almost hard to distinguish from a sob. His nails dig further into his palms to try and gain control of himself. “And I don’t want Touya-nii to die.”
Those last words come out in a quiet hiss, almost whispered like a secret. Izuku watches as Todoroki’s tight control finally unravels, and a quiet sob leaves his bitten lips. Izuku’s heart aches for his friend. He had felt much the same about Tenko, only Tenko wasn’t his brother. He can’t even begin to imagine how that complicates things. It takes a bit of effort to lift his arm but he does, painstakingly so, his fingertips settling gently on Shouto’s knee. He curses the damn casts, wanting so much so to wrap his friend in a soul crushing hug. But this will have to do for now.
It may not be enough for Izuku, but it certainly does something for Shouto. Another choked down sob shakes his body, almost silent this time, but his fingers are quick to wrap around Izuku’s, clutching them like a lifeline.
“I–” Shouto stalls on another silent sob, before sucking in a deep breath. And then, in a disturbing and simultaneously impressive show of control, he chokes back his cries and speaks clearly. “I don’t even know anything about my own brother.”
Shouto’s cries may have quieted, but Izuku can see the lost, broken look on his face. With what strength he has, he squeezes Shouto’s fingers. And finally, Shouto looks up at him.
Izuku feels crushed by the pain in Shouto’s eyes, such sadness laid bare there. He’d been close to tears listening to Shouto this whole time, but they finally break free and slip down his freckled cheeks. Izuku squeezes Shouto’s hand as hard as he can manage.
“Then, if he’s still alive, you’ll have to get to know him,” Izuku finally says, looking determinedly into Shouto’s heterochromic eyes.
Izuku’s words seem to soothe something in Shouto, and his shoulders droop, losing the tension built up there. A fresh round of tears fill his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away with his right hand, left still firmly clasped with Izuku’s. A tiny but beautiful smile lights up Shouto’s tear stained face.
“Yeah,” he sniffles, “I guess I will.”
Shouto has no idea how long they stay there like that, hands clasped and eyes swollen; but it was long enough that Izuku began stifling yawns and Shouto had to rub the sleep from his eyes.
“We should get some rest,” Shouto decides when Izuku tries to hide another yawn.
Izuku gives him a sheepish look,” Yeah, probably a good idea.”
Shouto stands on his shaky legs, looking at Izuku before realizing something.
“How did you get out here? Surely you can’t wheel yourself like that.”
Izuku gives an awkward laugh, “I had a nurse wheel me over here. I couldn’t sleep.”
Shouto can’t help but smile a little, grabbing the back of the wheel chair and turning it back in the direction of the rooms.
Shouto gives the chair a push, aggravated when his arms, legs, and ribs protest profusely. The chair barely moves an inch. He groans and Izuku heaves another awkward laugh, giving Shouto an apologetic smile.
“You’re too heavy,” Shouto complains, although he knows that’s not why he’s struggling.
Izuku barks out a laugh, a more genuine one this time, which catches the attention of a nurse. She rushes to take the wheelchair from Shouto and he reluctantly lets her. He gives a lazy wave and begins to turn around before another pit of guilt hits him in the stomach. He spins on his heel.
“Wait–”
“Hmm?” Izuku hums tiredly, the nurse giving his chair a half turn so that they can face each other properly.
“You didn’t tell me–how you were feeling. You let me talk the whole time,” Shouto realizes in anguish, guilt clutching at him.
Izuku’s smile turns sad again, but he’s calm when he speaks, “Yeah, I did. Maybe tomorrow?”
The exhaustion and sadness is written all over Izuku’s face and Shouto feels awful. He had talked selfishly the whole time. But Shouto can also tell by looking at him that Izuku isn’t ready to talk, not tonight at least. He deserves to rest.
Shouto puts on the bravest face he can, allowing a soft smile to stretch his chapped lips. “I’ll be here for you. Whenever you’re ready to talk, Midoriya.”
Izuku’s face lights up a bit, his tired smile quirking up at the ends again. Izuku doesn’t say anything, but Shouto is getting much better at reading him. The softness in his friend’s face radiates “thank you”, and Shouto can only hope his says the same in return. He gives his friend another lazy wave and finally retreats into his room. A nurse comes in and chastises him about yanking off all his monitors but he barely hears it, a sleepy haze filling him as they give him another dose of painkillers. He quickly slips off into a dreamless sleep.