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It’s been two days.
52 hours and 14 minutes, to be exact. So technically longer – but still. Two days. Hard to believe the nerd has been in his stupid coma for that long already.
It’s strange how time can feel like it’s racing by, and all the while the world seems like it’s stopped turning on its axis. It feels as though both the pause and the fast-forward button of Katuski’s life are stuck, leaving him teetering between overwhelming anxiety and just– exhaustion.
Or maybe that’s the stab wound talking. S’hard to reconcile with time when you’re floating in and out of it yourself.
Since the battle, the beginning of the week has drifted by in a nebulous cloud of visitors, shitty hospital meals, incessant beeps from heart monitors and more than a few stitches and sutures. Luckily, he was told if he ‘takes it easy’ for the next day or two, he’ll be able to get the fuck out of here in a timely manner.
Where he’s going after this, though – hard to say. Home isn’t really a thing anymore, thanks to the wrinkly fucking psycho who leveled the entirety of Musutafu. Asshole.
The hospital’s sad excuse for oyakodon sits lukewarm on the bedside table. It tastes like the cook had a personal vendetta against any sort of seasoning. Icyhot’s untouched udon looks vaguely edible, though – maybe he can convince the bastard to switch with him once he’s done staring wistfully out the window like a damsel in distress.
“Oi,” Katsuki grunts, gaining Princess’ attention. “D’you know where the hell we’re going once we’re outta here?”
Breaking out of whatever weird little trance he was just in, he turns to face Katsuki. His bandages make him look kinda mummy-ish.
“I’m not sure,” he answers, voice still scratchy from his burns. “I heard Jeanist tell my father that they’re thinking of converting UA to an emergency shelter for everyone.”
Kastuki’s not gonna sit here and say he wanted to eat dinner with Icyhot. It just– happened. It’s past visitor hours and the guy just tiptoed into his room like he was bored or something, and it’s not like Katsuki had any grand evening plans and– and Deku is still in sleeping-beauty mode so what the fuck else was he supposed to do, huh? Eat alone and stare at the ruined state of his town?
So, here he is. Eating the shittiest meal in existence with a guy who can barely even talk. Complete with stab wounds, and burns, and the new Symbol of Peace half dead down the fucking hall, and– and villains on the loose. Bon Appetit.
“Great,” Katsuki groans. “We gotta share campus with a buncha fucking extras. Great.”
If Dek– if Izuku were here, he’d be all 'come on, Kacchan, that’s a great idea!” and “we should help with the evacuation!” but–
But he’s not here. Because he almost died. Might still almost die.
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Icyhot says, turning to stare out the window again.
Katsuki crosses his arms over his chest before remembering the fucking gash that sits there, under a mountain of gauze. He rolls his eyes.
“Don’t make me the asshole. I can’t imagine you’re itching to bunk with a bunch of lame ass civilians, either.”
Halfie doesn’t turn around, but Katsuki sees the muscles in his shoulders tense up from behind, even under his hospital smock.
“It’s not ideal, but it has to be done. Better them than me, anyway.”
Katsuki scowls. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”
Icyhot finally turns away from the window to face him. “If it’s true that UA will house the general public, it’s unlikely that they’d be okay with me staying there too.”
“Who gives a fuck what they think? You’re enrolled there, they aren’t. End of story.”
Icyhot shakes his head. There’s a subtlety to it, like there always is when Katsuki says something that’s objectively fucking correct, and that candy-cane head comes up with some kind of private rebuttal. The bastard missed his calling in fucking debate club.
“My brother is a villain, and a famous one at that.” He sits down on the chair next to the window, itching one of the bandages on his face as he stares at the linoleum floor. “Civilians shouldn’t have to live in fear of my family when they’ve already lost so much.”
It’s annoying– the way the space between his eyebrows creases, the way he continues to stare at the floor. Katsuki’s seen it more than a handful of times: the sad-sack Icyhot classic. He’s really leaning into it– rubbing a hand over his too-perfect pretty boy face.
And Katsuki hates to say it, but – when you’re sore as fuck, filled with puncture wounds, waiting for hours upon hours to hear if your fucking– what, best friend? Is Izuku his best friend? Fucking hell – is going to live or not, your patience for that kind of shit is a little bit thin. Sue him.
“That’s Endeavor’s problem, Halfie. Let him deal with the flack. It’s his damn fault in the first place,” he says, rolling his eyes again.
Halfie looks at him then, with that same pinched look. “Is it, though?”
“Yes," Katsuki snaps. “Obviously.”
He frowns. For a while he doesn't say anything else. Katsuki’s thankful he dropped the topic – he’s wound way too tight to be playing the blame game right now. Katuski’s good at plenty of things, but comforting people is not one of them, especially with Halfie. It’s another thing he can add to the growing list of things Izuku is better at.
His insides twist with frustration, with insecurity, regret– God, he hates this. He hates this room, this fucking conversation, this feeling of helplessness that hasn’t left him since the damn battle days ago.
Halfie just sits there staring from across the room, obviously unaware of Katsuki’s irritation. He prickles under the scrutiny, feeling weirdly fragile underneath his gaze.
“Well? You jus’ gonna stare at me or are you actually gonna spit out what you want to say?”
Biting his lip, Icyhot looks down again at his lap. His voice is quiet and raspy when he speaks again.
“Sometimes I– I think things would be better if I was never born.”
Katsuki narrows his eyes.
“Knowing now what happened to Touya–” he continues quietly, “I just can’t get the thought out of my head that if I never existed, maybe– maybe Touya and my siblings could have lived a better life. Maybe Dabi could have been… prevented.”
Katsuki tilts his head back until it collides with the pillow on his hospital bed. He shuts his eyes and exhales. God, he’s not in the mood for this.
Sure, it’s a ridiculously fucked up situation. Obviously there’s a lot of trauma there. But seriously - the guy genuinely tried to fucking kill Icyhot. He tried to kill Katsuki too, for that matter. And Endeavor. And Deku. God – the image of Izuku’s body burnt to a crisp flashes in front of his eyes, and he clenches them closed. Not now. Not now.
They’re lucky to have escaped with their lives, and Halfie’s over here fucking sympathizing with that blue-flamed lunatic.
If given the chance, Katsuki would blast Dabi into the next dimension, so it’s fucking annoying that Icyhot wants to make it seem like the dude deserves this– this pity, or whatever it is. Because he fucking doesn’t. Long lost brother or not, he’s a fucking murderer. Who gives a damn about whether or not he ‘deserves a better life’ when he’s still out there somewhere, cooking people like a sentient blowtorch with a decade-long grudge.
Halfie’s looking at him like he expects him to say something, and something raw and bitter bubbles up against Katsuki’s better judgment.
“Don’t be dramatic,” Katsuki drawls. “He’s a fucking villain, Icyhot. Giving an ounce of thought towards anything other than defeating him is a waste of time. If you don’t get a fucking grip and take him seriously, he’ll take you down before you even get the chance to tell him all that sappy shit.”
They need to focus. Who knows when the PLF will pop back up again to finish out the heroes for good. It’s time for action and planning, not– not guilt, or whatever. That’s useless. A useless emotion.
Katsuki would know. The source of all his guilt is two rooms down, freckled, unmoving.
Halfie recoils like he’s just been slapped, and his face does this thing Katsuki’s never seen – he looks shocked. His eyebrows are raised and he frowns, and then in an instant that look vanishes and is replaced by just– nothing. It’s like titanium walls popped up in front of those mismatched eyes. They close off completely.
The guy looks away, trying to bite his bottom lip to hide the frown taking hold of it.
Fuck. He’s upset.
Katsuki shouldn’t have even opened his mouth. God dammit– he should’ve known he would fuck this up. It feels like whatever rung of Icyhot’s friendship ladder he was previously perched on has broken under his foot, and he’s fallen all the way to the bottom of it in an instant after just a couple of sentences. 10 seconds of talking, and he’s fucked it all up.
He’s tired, dammit– he didn’t want to fucking do this, okay? He’s not ready to unpack the last 24 hours of horror, let alone a lifetime of it. On a good day Katsuki can barely navigate Icyhot’s head. He especially can’t handle it now – not when he has his own ball of twisting, writhing feelings behind his ribcage that he hasn’t even begun to unravel yet. It sits heavy in his chest, right next to the fucking puncture wound there that’s just starting to close up.
And for fuck’s sake, Icyhot can be so fucking sensitive sometimes, but then other times he’s not, and it’s just– it’s fucking hard, okay? It’s hard. Everything is fucking hard, and he’s so tired.
“I guess you’re right,” Icyhot responds softly, staring at the floor. “Forget I said anything.”
And then he just– he gets up to leave, striding across the room. Katsuki sits up.
“Hang on, I didn’t mean– Icyhot wait–”
He reaches for his wrist, but not before Halfie’s already out of reach. Katsuki’s door opens and closes with a soft click, and he’s left alone in silence.
The next day, both of them are released from the hospital and Katsuki returns to the UA dorms. Halfie’s nowhere to be found.
Day after that, he finally shows up.
It’s been raining for days. The entire region has been shrouded in overcast skies and steady rain since the battle ended. Katsuki would almost say the sky is crying, if he was at all inclined to get sentimental about things. A heavy silence seeps through the dorms all day – there isn’t any sense of normalcy despite the familiarity of their rooms, the kitchen, their shared space. He and his classmates have been popping in and out, helping to keep the shelter running and staying busy with mundane tasks that they can kid themselves into calling hero work.
Occasionally, when someone forgets to turn the TV off, they’ll catch bits and pieces of hero press conferences. It’s probably good for theml to see all the steaming hot bullshit that the remaining pros have put up with for the past few days. After all, hero work isn’t all baby-kissing and hand shaking. It’s hard, and ugly, and thankless at least 50% of the time.
The regular pros without all the fame and fans, the ones who stuck around and put their heads down to fucking work – they’ve got Katsuki’s respect.
How he feels about Endeavor, though; that’s a different story.
Knowing all that shit about Halfie’s brother, the old bastard should absolutely be dragged over the coals and then some. Every single media outlet in Japan is talking about it, most of them negatively. But Katsuki hates the fact that Icyhot is subjected to it too – he’s probably getting harassed just as much as his dad as he helps tell the world what exactly happened in the Todoroki estate for all of those years.
Turns out, the shit that Halfie told him about his home life was only a fucking sliver of it. And it only serves to make Katsuki feel worse about how he treated him in the hospital room. Maybe that brother of his really is owed some fucking sympathy after the hell he went through. Katsuki just– really fucking wishes Shouto didn’t have to be at the center of it.
It’s a little after 5pm when the front doors open and the principal, Endeavor, and Icyhot walk in. They’re soaked from the rain, dripping wet all over the carpets. It was already quiet in the common room before they entered – now it’s so silent you could hear a damn pin drop.
“Todoroki,” Four Eyes says first, speaking over everyone else’s surprised whispers. “It’s– it’s good to see you.”
A handful of the others nod in agreement. Halfie doesn’t look up from where he’s staring at the floor, and his wet hair hangs in front of his eyes in messy pieces. Eventually he nods, but doesn’t say anything. Principal Nedzu turns to him.
“Make yourself at home, Todoroki. Your classmates have been dutiful in their efforts to help the evacuees thus far. I have no doubt that if you work alongside your fellow heroes in training, you’ll earn the trust of any doubters you may have in no time.”
Nedzu taps his shoulder supportively, and – ah. That explains the looks on Icyhot’s and Flamey’s faces. The evacuees don’t want them here.
Endeavor, for all of his usual pride and presence, looks completely fucking defeated. And it’s pissing Katsuki off, because– because the number one pro shouldn’t be fucking sulking when the country is in ruin. He should– he should be encouraging people or something, or at least trying to put on a front of competence. He’s directly responsible for at least a third of all this shit anyway.
Halfie looks different though. Halfie looks like he wants to be invisible. Like he’d rather be anywhere other than here, in front of the whole class, pretending like his entire community doesn’t absolutely hate his whole family and blame them for all of this turmoil.
He bows, keeping his head down still. Katsuki stiffens from where he leans against the wall off to the side.
“Thank you for allowing me to come back. Sorry for the trouble I’ve caused. I’ll do my best.”
The others look around at each other, uncomfortable with how robot-y and dry his response was.
“This is your home, Todoroki,” Round face says after a moment. She sounds sad. “We all want you here.”
Frog looks up at him too, her eyes big and glassy. “Yeah. We’re so glad you’re home safe.”
Eijirou perks up from where he stands slouched in the kitchen. “Now that Todoroki’s back, we’re only missing one of us. 1-A is almost complete again!”
Katsuki will give him a solid 7 out of 10 for his attempt to lighten the mood. But Icyhot hears it and shoots an unreadable look in Katsuki’s direction, quickly turning away once he realizes Katsuki was watching him already.
“Yes, well I’m sure Midoriya will be returning any day now. In the meantime, I’d like you all to continue being on standby.” Nedzu turns to the hulking man beside him. “Endeavor, I’ll walk you to the front gates.”
With that, Icyhot starts to walk towards the elevator without another word to his dad or Nedzu or anyone. As the rest of the class says goodbye to Endeavor, Katsuki grabs Halfie’s wrist as he walks past.
“We need to talk.”
Icyhot freezes his stride, but doesn’t look at Katsuki.
“Not right now.”
Normally Katsuki would yell. Argue. Berate Halfie into doing what he wants because it’s easy and it’s– it’s normal and it’s what they’ve always done. How they’ve always functioned. Icyhot buffers Katsuki’s fire, takes Katsuki’s thorns and ignores them like the block of ice he is. Katsuki never even got a rise out of him, let alone a rejection.
That’s what makes the fight die on his lips. It settles deep within him– the realization that maybe he really did fuck this whole thing up, maybe Icyhot’s actually really fucking not okay, and maybe– maybe Katsuki contributed to that.
Katsuki definitely contributed to that.
Halfie gently uncurls Katsuki’s fingers from around his wrist, a silent and gentle denial that leaves him at a loss for words. He walks to the elevator and disappears as the doors close, leaving Katsuki behind once again.
The letters hit the dorm like a newspaper announcing a war.
Everyone filters down to the common room looking the same; paper clutched in their hands, hurt etched on their faces. Katsuki read his letter already, and spent the last couple of hours trying to make sense of it all. But it doesn’t make fucking sense, so reading and re-reading and re-re-reading Izuku’s shitty fucking letter only made him want to scream and kick shit over, so he tore it up and threw it in the garbage. Just like Deku did with all of them. With UA as a whole.
He sits at the edge of the room, watching as the others filter through the elevator.
“I just don’t get it–” Alien says sadly, breaking the tense silence of the room once they’ve all heard that Deku’s gone. “Why would he do this?”
“All he said was that Shigaraki and All for One want his quirk,” Sparky answers. “But why would he leave UA? This is the safest place he could be.”
Four Eyes shakes his head. “I’m sure he has his reasons. In my letter he mentioned that the villains could track the location of his quirk somehow.”
“Yeah, mine too,” Round face sighs. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a while - her hair is tied up, messy and tangled.
“Mine didn’t say anything like that,” Tape Arms says thoughtfully, scrunching his eyebrows.
Frog shakes her head, standing next to him. “Mine neither.”
“Perhaps we could pull the details from everyone's letter together to get a better look. I’m sure he’d share more with his close friends, right? Uraraka and Iida, Todoroki and Bakugou – were there any other details in your letters that you can remember?” Ponytail asks, looking between Kastuki and Icyhot, who’s sitting at the counter looking like he has for the past few days – tense and uncomfortable, like he doesn’t belong here.
Katsuki stiffens at the mention of his name, not particularly enjoying being reminded over and over by these fuckers that Izuku decided to abandon all of them for the sake of his own savior complex.
“Mine had all the same bullcrap apologies, except for all of the quirk shit. I already knew all of that,” he spits.
Ponytail nods. “I suppose out of all of us, it’d make sense that he’d tell you about that Bakugou, considering your history and everything.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes as hot disappointment rises in his chest. “He didn’t tell me shit. I figured it out myself.”
“Well regardless,” Four Eyes says, adjusting his glasses, “we still don’t have much to work with. Todoroki, what about you? You and Midoriya were especially close, did you have anything different in your letter?”
Katsuki crosses his arms and finally looks over at Icyhot, genuinely curious about his letter. He’s already looking at Katsuki with the same expression he had in the hospital – shock, hurt, disbelief. But– fucking why? What did Kastuki do this time?
Four Eyes steps a little closer after Halfie doesn’t answer for a while. “Todoroki?”
Katsuki’s stomach lurches with panic as he watches Halfie blink, and - oh god, there’s moisture there, along his bottom eyelids, fuck –
“I don’t–” Halfie starts, his gaze flitting across the room as he shakes his head. “My letter barely says anything.”
It’s a quiet admittance, said while staring right at Katsuki and Round Face and Four Eyes. It’s as if he’s mentally holding his friendship with Deku up to each of theirs, comparing to see where he’d fallen short, where he’d gone so wrong to be excluded like that.
The room is silent again. Katsuki watches it all in technicolor, his insides tying in knots. Halfie’s chest rises and falls, even as he forces his face to return to a blank expression. The silence between him and the rest of the class gets so thick it’s almost nauseating.
“I’m– I’m sorry Todoroki,” Ponytail offers, quiet and embarrassed. “We didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that–”
“It’s fine,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. “Excuse me.”
He stands up to leave, but Round Face catches his arm. “Wait, c’mon Todoroki– we need your help to come up with a plan if we want to-”
“Let him go,” Katsuki demands.
He needs privacy. With that look on his face – he’s about to shatter into pieces, Katsuki’s sure.
A lot of them turn to look at him, Halfie included. It hangs in the air for a second before Uraraka gives up, letting go of her hold on his wrist. He looks around the room nervously once more, mumbles an apology, and walks to the elevator with his head hung and his hands balled at his sides.
That night, after three or four hours of tossing and turning in bed, it becomes clear that sleeping is a worthless effort to be making right now – he’s got a thousand things on his mind, and they’re all too heavy to table just for the sake of some shuteye. Katsuki puts on a sweatshirt and heads up to the roof – the night breeze always helps him calm down.
When he gets there, he’s not particularly surprised to see that he isn’t the only one with the same idea.
Icyhot stands at the railing, leaning over the bannister from where he’s stepped up on the concrete ledge at the bottom. The soft westward breeze flows through his hair and his shirt billows, showing his tensed shoulders. It doesn’t seem like he’s heard Katsuki come out – he’s just staring off over the ledge, his back facing the stairwell door.
Katsuki approaches slowly to avoid scaring him, and folds his arms against the railing. They both sit in silence for a while, just staring out into the dark abyss.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Katsuki finally croaks, not lifting his chin from his arms.
Halfie doesn’t answer. His hands are clinging to the railing with white knuckles and he bears his torso down over it, looking over the edge. His face is completely blank, and a slight feeling of dread seeps between Katsuki’s ribs for a reason he can’t quite explain.
He steps back and grabs a firm handful of the back of Icyhot’s shirt.
“You’re makin’ me nervous. Get down.”
It takes a moment, but he follows Katsuki’s directions and steps off the ledge, back onto flat ground. He just stands there, silent. No expression. Katsuki fucking hates it.
He rubs a hand on the back of his neck. “M’sorry. For what I said back in– back in the hospital.”
Halfie blinks once, and finally looks at Katsuki. His eyes are dull and he looks away quickly.
“It’s okay,” he says quietly.
Katsuki shakes his head. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t’ve– you were trying to be fuckin’ real with me, and I just– I was being a dickhead.”
He just shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does, Icyhot. I’m telling you I was being an asshole. I mean– I’m always an asshole to you, but– you know what I mean. I’m sorry. That was the wrong time to be an asshole.”
“I forgive you,” he says almost immediately. He has a mannequin-like look on his face, completely shuttered and artificial. “You were right, anyways. It’s a waste of time to dwell in the past.”
Katsuki cringes a little bit at that, because, well– when your past shows up as your long lost dead brother, burnt to a crisp and screaming about how he wants to kill you, then maybe there’s some merit to dwelling on it a little bit.
Katsuki shakes his head. “Whatever, look– I know you’re pissed off and hurt about the letters, but Deku’s just– out of his fucking mind right now, I don’t know. Just… don’t take it personally.”
“I’m not mad,” he answers. His voice is so gentle, so fucking devoid of any rightful feeling that it’s making Katsuki’s skin crawl. “I think– I think Midoriya is mad. At me.”
Katsuki scowls. “Why the fuck would he be mad at you?”
“I don’t know. I– I think it probably has to do with my brother, right? Touya said he killed a lot of people because of his grudge against my father and I.” He grips the railing a little bit tighter. “Midoriya must think I’m vile.”
Kastuki clenches his fists, his stomach souring. Honestly, he’s not sure which part he finds more baffling – the fact that Icyhot thinks of himself as the party at fault here, or that he thinks Izuku of all people would agree with that assessment.
“Just because he didn’t tell you all his stupid bullshit doesn’t mean he’s mad at you. He only told me because I figured it out already myself. Plus we have– we have history, or whatever you want to call it,” Katsuki argues, crossing his arms as the night breeze picks up, and once again feeling bitter about Deku’s handling of this. “He was my first friend. Of course my letter’s gonna look a little different from yours.”
“Yeah,” Icyhot softly answers, nodding as he looks down at his hands. “He was mine, too.”
The statement hangs in the air for a second before floating off into the night. Katsuki just blinks, because– fuck.
He’d never thought about that. Why didn’t he ever think about that? He fucking– he knew about Icyhot’s fucked up childhood or whatever but he never spared any thought to like, middle school Todoroki’s social life, because why would he?
For fuck’s sake, Katsuki was an infant when Izuku came into his life. Their “friendship” or whatever the fuck was basically built-in, thanks to their moms. For over a decade he had Deku at arms length, always. Always. Maybe that’s why this little stunt of his makes Katsuki feel like he’s missing a limb.
Icyhot didn’t experience Deku like that, though. Icyhot wasn’t even allowed to hang out with his own damn siblings, let alone friends. Even those first few weeks at UA, he barely spoke to fucking anyone – Katsuki thought he was just a rich jackass, then. Quiet. Arrogant. Walking around with this aura of ‘don’t talk to me’ like the number two hero’s prodigy son would.
Now that he knows Shouto – his awkwardness, his sincerity that can be so honest and open that it’s fucking off-putting – he feels pity for that closed-off version of him. It took Izuku showing up and treating him like an actual fucking person instead of Endeavor’s stupid little weapon for the first time in his life to bring out the real version of Halfie: quiet but kind, thoughtful, compassionate, and– fucking lonely.
Halfie and Deku were tight. It used to piss Katsuki off – two idiots who would mumble to each other and eat stupid snacks together and strategize painstakingly through every practical assignment. Deku was the first person Halfie told about his family shit, before anyone else. They confided in each other.
Er– Halfie confided in him. Izuku, well–
Izuku left. And Shouto has no one again.
…Maybe Halfie doesn’t have to be alone in this. Maybe Katsuki’s not alone in his anger.
He turns to Half n’ half. “Hey.”
He cocks an eyebrow at Katsuki.
“Y’wanna like… hug, or something?”
Halfie’s eyebrows raise, and his eyes dart around the space between them before pointing to himself. “...Me?”
Katsuki’s cheeks burn. “Yes you. D’you see anyone else on this fucking roof?”
“No, but...why?”
“Jesus fucking Christ–” Katsuki curses, rolling his eyes. He spreads his arms wide and steps closer before he loses his will, stopping just short of where Halfie’s standing with that stupid confused look. “Take it or leave it.”
He considers Katsuki for a moment, the breeze blowing his hair so that the colors mix together on one side. His eyes are wide and a little bit glassy as he steps forward, wraps his arms around Katsuki’s waist gingerly, and returns the hug.
Katsuki keeps his muscles tense until he feels Shouto’s relax little by little. He holds a little tighter as the seconds tick by, leaning his head into Katsuki’s until their cheeks are touching. Katsuki breathes out, grabbing handfuls of the back of Halfie’s shirt.
Shouto’s spurred on by that, it seems – he squeezes tight, and Katsuki feels his hitched breathing against his own chest. They stay like that for a while, until both of their eyes are misty and the sound of the wind carries off their sniffs.
“Shit sucks,” Katsuki breathes, pressing his nose into Halfie’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Halfie answers, heaving a heavy and shaky exhale, right across Katsuki’s neck. “It does.”
“I know you feel like shit right now,” Kastuki babbles, trying to keep his voice even and not watery, “but I’m– I’m glad you exist, okay? I’m fucking glad you’re here. So just– get that through your thick head.”
It comes out whispered, but the way Halfie squeezes his body so tight, the way he exhales a small “thank you” in what seems like– like relief – he heard him. He always hears Katsuki. Even without words.
They break apart after a minute or two, each wiping their eyes.
“Alright,” Katsuki says. “Let’s go get him, then.”
The night Deku comes back is a fucking whirlwind. Between arguing with the selfish ass civilians in the main building, actually getting him into the damn dorm, and cleaning off the shell of fucking grime covering every inch of his stupid body, day turns into night and things start to calm down.
Kirishima and Sparky help to finish cleaning him up in the baths as Katsuki steps out to go to Izuku’s room in search of clean clothes for the idiot. On his way from the baths to the elevator on the first floor, he hears the kitchen sink running.
It makes him pause in his stride, because– the boys are in the baths, and all the girls are still finishing up the “welcome home” banner, so Katsuki’s not sure who’s in the kitchen.
He walks in to find Icyhot standing at the sink, washing dishes.
Which is… odd. Katsuki can’t think of a single time he’s seen Icyhot do any sort of chore, and right now seems like the dumbest possible time to start.
“Oi,” Katsuki barks, and Halfie just about jumps out of his fucking skin. The bowl he drops clatters against the sink. He blinks away the remnants of the weird little trance he was in.
“You gonna get in there and help? Or do we all have to do the dirty work while you– do whatever the fuck this is?” Katsuki says, gesturing to him, the sink, the sponge in his hand.
Halfie turns to face the cabinets, hiding. Always hiding.
“I want him to have time to rest. I’ll speak with him later.”
“What? Why?" Katsuki snaps, narrowing his eyes.
His soapy hands shake in front of him, betraying the carefully blank look on his face.
“I put people on edge,” comes his quiet response. “You all deserve to relax and enjoy yourselves.”
Katsuki crosses his arms. “And you don’t deserve that?”
Instead of answering, his eyes stay glued to the sink and his mouth forms a thin, straight line. Katsuki just stares at him, watching the thoughts in his head float by like his eyes are a projector screen. They’re widened as he probably imagines Izuku yelling in his face, or– or ignoring him completely, or just– generally being discomforted by the entire idea of Shouto being in the same room.
He looks– scared.
Midoriya must think I’m vile, he said, days ago.
The possibility of complete rejection, the delirious certainty that Izuku hates his guts is making him afraid. He’s hesitating. Playing defense. Keeping his distance from it all to avoid what he thinks will be a falling out. It looks so fucking unnatural on him — Kastuki’s used to bone-headed Shouto, sure of himself Shouto who’s already running into the fray before Katsuki can get in a word edge-wise.
Icyhot, the guy who can freeze entire buildings in a solid block of ice and incinerate forests with a wave of his arm – is legitimately scared of talking to Deku.
God, fuck Izuku for fucking this all up. It’d be one thing to do this to Katsuki but– Jesus , looking at Halfie’s stupid pretty face all pinched and worried and filled to the brim with self-loathing is eating away at him quickly.
Katsuki deserves the guilt. Shouto fucking doesn’t.
He continues washing dishes without another word, and Katsuki regretfully leaves him to it.
There’s too much going on right now to think of some half-witted placation that won’t work anyways. After last time, Katsuki doesn’t trust himself to offer what Shouto needs when he’s already dealing with Deku and the others. It seems like Halfie wants to be alone anyways.
Instead, he heads towards the elevator again and swallows down a mixture of regret, guilt, and anger.
The taste is all too familiar.
Izuku’s room is the same as it always was; covered in carefully curated All Might shit, with daily messes here and there scattered around. Full laundry hamper. Empty water glasses on his nightstand. Dead plant on his desk.
Having him actually in it, though – it’s a sight Katsuki didn’t know he was missing.
He’s clean, smelling like soap and laundry detergent from his pajamas, staring at Katsuki with an indiscernible expression. They stand a few feet away from each other, just– looking. Seeing.
Izuku steps forward first, and Katsuki follows his lead. He’s been doing a lot of that lately.
They meet in the middle of the room and wrap their arms around each other without second thought. Their chests slam against each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces that have been stepped on and bent and fucked up, yet somehow find a way to slot in place.
Deku is crying before Katsuki even says anything. He can feel the wetness on his shoulder as Izuku presses his face there, whimpering a string of apologies and senseless babbling.
“Don’t ever do that shit again. You hear me?” Kastuki says through gritted teeth, grasping the back of Izuku’s night shirt. So soft.
“I won’t Kacchan. I won’t,” he says. “I promise I won’t.”
They both heave a breath, separating. His warmth was nice against Kastuki’s chest, but he tables that embarrassing thought for another time. An awkward silence lies between them until Izuku feels uncomfortable enough to break it.
“It’s– It’s nice to see everyone again. I really missed you and the rest of the class.”
Fuck. That reminds Katsuki–
“You need to talk to Todoroki.”
Izuku looks surprised and slightly taken off guard, but nods anyway. “Yeah, I’m sure I’ll catch up with him eventually.”
“No. Soon. Like, urgently.” Katsuki’s chest fills with that familiar bitterness once again, and it’s hard to keep it down. “He thinks you hate him, Deku.”
Izuku’s eyes go big and they shine in the moonlight, tears already settling on the rims of his eyelids. “What? Why?”
“His fucking letter! Or- should I say lackthereof?” Katsuki snaps. “How could you do that to him, Izuku? You really thought a stock letter in someone else’s handwriting was enough for him?”
“I–” he stammers, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “I didn’t have a lot of time–”
“You gave me, Uraraka, and Iida specialized letters,” Katsuki says, counting each individual person on his fingers to enunciate, “and not Todoroki.”
Izuku looks down at his feet, shoulders sagging.
“It’s not the way I wanted to tell him, but I didn’t have a choice! I knew I couldn’t say what I wanted to in a written letter, so I figured I would just wait until I–”
“You know how he is, Izuku. You can’t just– leave him with some shitty half-assed explanation or else he’s gonna fucking stew on it. I would fucking know.”
He looks up at Katsuki’s face then, his eyebrows lowered like he’s confused. “What does that mean?”
“What?”
“You said ‘you would know’. What does that mean? Did something happen?”
Katsuki sighs, rubs a hand down his face. “When we were all in the hospital and you were–” he stops himself, not wanting to be subjected to the mental image of Izuku comatose. He shakes his head.
“In the hospital, he– he told me he wished he was never born or whatever and I just– I fucked it up. He never tells me that kind of shit because when he does, I go and shit all over him,” he explains. His voice cracks and it’s fucking embarrassing. Eyes burning now, he looks away from Deku’s stupid face.
“And then he-” he stutters, “he didn’t have you to fucking talk it out with because you left and I’m fucking useless, and I just–”
Izuku catches Katsuki’s hands before they press into his eyes to block his tears. Squeezing gently, Izuku looks up at him with big sad eyes. They’re deep forest green in the darkness, and Katsuki feels naked under his gaze. There’s a million emotions there and Katsuki watches them morph and blend into one another – Sadness. Guilt. Empathy. Reassurance. Care. So, so much care.
Izuku watches intently as Katsuki’s frustration spills down his face in the form of fat, embarrassing tears. But there’s no judgment in those eyes no matter how hard Katsuki searches for it. How could there be?
Neither of them speak for what feels like hours. Izuku releases his hands, and they take a deep steadying breath together.
“You look so tired, Kacchan,” Deku says, and Katsuki scoffs. Pot meet kettle.
“Tomorrow,” Katsuki urges, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “You need to talk to him tomorrow. I can’t look at his stupid sad face for any longer.”
Deku’s lip wobbles. “He was– he was really that upset?”
“Think about it, Izuku. He’s told you every one of his dirty, horrible secrets, and then he finds out about yours through the fucking grapevine.” Katsuki crosses his arms. “Remember when you got Blackwhip? And he asked you about it?”
Deku sits on his bed, shoulders sagging. “I couldn’t tell him then, Kacchan. And– I mean, it’s not like I lied to him-”
“Yeah, you didn’t lie but you left out a pretty big fucking chunk of the truth, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head, eyebrows scrunched in frustration, regret. “I had to! I couldn’t even tell my mom about One for All, Kacchan– that’s not something I can just– go around advertising to the whole class, okay? I don’t expect you to understand.”
Kastuki laughs, bitter and biting. “Are you fucking serious right now? I’m the only person who does understand because I’m the only one who fucking knew about it! And I’m not talking about the whole class, Izuku. I’m talking about fucking Shouto.”
Izuku watches Katsuki’s hands as he gesticulates in the air with a weathered, melancholic expression. It makes Katsuki pause as he looks at those shallow green eyes, so heavy with exhaustion and guilt.
Regret spills over Katsuki like a bucket of cold water. Why is he doing this right now? Why is he trying to add more to Deku’s plate when it’s already shattered? He’s been holding the entire country in his scarred hands these past few weeks, hating himself for everything falling between the gaps in his fingers. And Katsuki’s trying to add more to that pile for whatever stupid reason.
“Forget it,” Katsuki says after a moment, exhaling out his frustration. “I’m sorry. This isn’t like– your top priority right now, I get that. You’re tired.”
“No, no no no-no-no,” Deku urges, waving his hands in front of himself as fresh tears spring in his eyes. He stands up off the bed. “You are my priority, Kacchan, you’re always my priority, I’m just–”
“I–” Katsuki starts, stops. His stomach takes a dive. “I meant the– the Todoroki thing.”
They stare at each other. Katsuki swears he can see static in the air between them as they lock eyes.
It’s short-lived though, and Katsuki doesn’t have time to think about it, doesn’t have time to think about anything before Izuku’s face just– crumples.
He paws at his eyes, grimacing as he bursts into tears and Katsuki just– just can’t sit back and watch this, not after everything.
“Stop,” he gently commands, closing the small gap between them and wrapping his arms around that small but bulky frame again. “Stop. Breathe.”
Deku grabs onto him like a man drowning. “I’m– I feel s-so bad about everything-”
Katsuki bites his bottom lip to keep himself tethered to earth. “You did the best you could do, Izuku. I know you did.”
“And it– it still wasn’t enough–”
“Stop it,” Katsuki demands more earnestly now, because if he doesn’t stop they’re both going to be blubbering messes of self-loathing and they don’t have the time or the energy for that right now. “It was, alright? It was enough. Everything’s– fuck– everything’s gonna be fine,” he stammers, voice shaking now too.
After a moment to gather himself, Deku lifts his head from Katsuki’s shoulder and looks up. His freckled cheeks are flushed and shining with tears as he nods.
“Ev’rything’s gonna be fine,” Izuku repeats around the ball of mucus in the back of his throat.
Katsuki laughs, wet and embarrassing and snotty too. “You’re such a dork.”
In return, Deku hugs him tighter. Buries his damp booger-y face into Katsuki’s shoulder like he meant to use it as a tissue.
“Miss’d you.”
Katsuki looks up at the ceiling, but the blur in his eyes just spills over anyway. How did he ever let this fucking gremlin out of his sight.
“Missed you too.”
It takes hours to catch up with Deku, and it still didn’t take as long as he thought it would – at least there are a few hours left in the night before morning. All it took was a bit of prodding to get that dam to break, and Deku spilled every gritty detail of the past few weeks. The hatch opened and suddenly everything flowed out at once, washing both Deku and Katsuki of a layer of emotional grime that neither was privy to before. He feels light once it's all over – relieved and calm but also fucking tired. And– and thirsty.
He rides the elevator down to the kitchen with heavy eyelids, yawning into the back of his hand. There isn’t anything better than a cup of ice cold water after spending a night crying like a fucking baby.
Only a few lights are on when he reaches the ground floor. It looks empty at first when the elevator doors open, but as his eyes adjust, he spots a head of red and white hair sitting at the kitchen counter, facing away from the elevator. Moonlight from the kitchen window above the sink clashes with the orange-y hue of the lights above the counter. Head bowed, he sits in silence.
For a second Katsuki thinks he spent all night down here alone, making himself busy to excuse himself from what was supposed to be a happy occasion. But he’s wearing what looks like pajamas, and it’s far too late for him to be awake on purpose. He’s a creature of routine, like Katsuki. Shouto rarely chooses to stay up for no reason.
He pads up to him carefully. “Halfie?”
He jolts. With wide eyes, Halfie turns towards Katsuki to look and his pale face catches the light, jaw tense and cheeks shining. He blinks a few times, wetness gathering his eyelashes in clumps before he turns his head away again, swiping the back of his hand across both cheeks. Discreet. Embarrassed.
Katsuki swallows and keeps his voice low – the room is so silent it’d be weird if he didn’t.
“You alright?”
A heavy, stuttered breath, followed by a small voice damp with tears. “Yeah.”
“Nightmare?”
“....yeah.”
Katsuki nods to himself. He slides next to Halfie, sitting on the barstool next to his. The silence they sit in isn’t awkward, or tense. It’s soft – padded with time to let Halfie gather himself, to let Katsuki gather his thoughts.
This time, he’ll get it right. He refuses to stomp all over Shouto and his feelings again, like last time. By god, he’ll get this right.
“Do you, uh–” he starts, glancing half-heartedly in Halfie’s direction. “Do you wanna talk about it?”
He sniffs, breathes out. “No,” he settles on. “I don’t remember much of it anyways.”
Katsuki hums. He gets those too, sometimes. They suck ass.
Okay. So he doesn’t want to talk about it. What else should Katsuki do, then? What do people want when they’re upset? Katsuki just wants to be left the fuck alone, usually. But Halfie doesn’t seem completely put out by having Katsuki next to him, so – so what’s next? What else can he offer?
“D’you, um–” their eyes meet. “I can– I can make some tea or somethin’ if you want. Would that help?”
Shouto looks at him with big glassy eyes. Misty with the faded images of his nightmare – of whatever woke him up in tears, and made him sit in this shitty orange lighting all alone. They shift between both of Katsuki’s.
“I’d like that,” he answers after a long time. Almost whispers it.
Katsuki feels like he’s just earned a ton of points in a video game where there’s no tutorial, no extra lives. He’s got this – not so hard, right? He can do this.
He gets to work boiling water on the stove, gathering honey and tea bags from the cabinet. Leaning back against the counter, he takes a good look at Halfie, who’s staring at his hands clasped in front of him on the countertop.
He’s – fucking hell – he’s wearing a white t-shirt, and Katsuki’s just noticed the little Hello Kitty symbol on his chest.
He laughs. He can’t help it. Halfie looks up, quizzically.
“I can’t believe you sleep in that.”
Halfie looks down at himself, finds what Katsuki thinks is funny, and actually smiles a little bit. Jackpot. High score.
“Yaoyorozu gave it to me,” he says, his voice distant like he’s remembering the day she did. “I wear it to bed every night.”
“Oh my god,” Katsuki groans, smiling too. “Between you and Deku, I don’t know who’s more of a fucking dweeb.”
Shouto’s tiny smile falls. Katsuki’s confused for a singular second until he realizes– dammit.
Might as well get this over with now. He didn’t mean to bring it up, but–
“Speaking of, Deku wants you to meet him tomorrow afternoon. On the front steps.”
Halfie’s reaction takes a few beats to manifest, and Katsuki watches it slow motion, it feels like. His face pales. His shoulders tense. The crease between his eyebrows returns to its original depth before Katsuki attempted to smooth it over with tea and careful conversation.
He looks just– unbelievably nervous. Like a kid who broke a window with a baseball and his mom just pulled into the driveway.
“Did he–” he stutters, swallowing. “Did he seem–?”
“Mad?” Katsuki finishes for him. “No, Halfie. Of course he’s not mad. He’s fucking devastated that you’re upset. He wants to apologize because it’s his fault, not yours.”
“It’s not his fault,” Halfie argues immediately, shaking his head. “You didn’t say that to him, did you? Does he think I’m angry? I could never be angry at him, I don’t blame him for–”
“Shouto.”
Halfie clams up, his eyes getting misty again. Katsuki watches him bite the inside of his lip.
“You’re important to him, alright? He just wants to talk to you. He fucked up, and he’s trying to make sure it’s right,” Katsuki says, firm, before continuing quieter. “We both… kind of fucked up, with you. We’re gonna fix it.”
Icyhot just barely nods, mostly to himself in what seems like understanding. He swipes the back of his hand across his eyes again, and looks up at Katsuki. His watery eyes, shining like goddamn jewels, look so bright in the low light.
Katsuki pulls the kettle off the stove right before it starts whistling and pours it into the two mugs, handing the one with a little bit of honey in it to Shouto.
The silence stretches between them.
Katsuki can’t help but think – I think things would be better if I was never born – that he’s so fucking happy Shouto was born, because there’s no one else he enjoys these silences with. It’s like Halfie is an extension of Katsuki — someone who understands, someone who’s comfortable leaving the gaps unfilled when the conversation lulls like this. It’s like they speak to each other in the silence itself, a language reserved for just the two of them.
“I’m sorry for what I said in the hospital.”
He’s said it before, but it bears repeating. Especially now, when Katsuki’s feeling sentimental and raw after the night he’s had already.
“I told you I forgive you,” Halfie says, calm and automatic. It doesn’t seem ingenuine, it was just– immediate. “You were tired and in pain. I’d never want to lose you over something so trivial.”
Katsuki wants to push him on it, wants to argue that he shouldn’t forgive him for that and why was that so easy for him when it shouldn’t be, he should be bitter, he should be angry.
Katsuki would be bitter, if the roles were reversed. Katsuki would be angry.
But Shouto isn’t, because Shouto is a fucking anomaly. Genuine and honest, yet completely enigmatic sometimes. Opaque yet transparent. A living breathing person with an unforgiving dichotomy sewn into his very being.
But Katsuki will always follow that thread. Every wrinkle, every stitch. Because as a whole, Shouto is just…. everything.
Katsuki is so damn lucky to have him.
He looks at him again from across the counter, the orange lights of the kitchen casting them both in a soft spotlight while the rest of the first floor sits in darkness. Halfies stares back, leaning his head on his palm. Something warm settles in Katsuki’s stomach, looking at him. Sticky and sweet. And he hasn’t even taken a sip of his tea yet.
“Oh,” Katsuki mumbles, patting his front pants pocket as he remembers the peace offering he brought, just in case plan ‘A’ to get Halfie to meet with Deku didn’t work. “I meant to give this to you.”
He walks over to Shouto’s side of the counter and hands him the small piece of paper. Halfie holds it gingerly in his hands, staring in wonder.
It’s a small printed photo of Kastuki and Deku when they were, what, three? Four, tops? Deku’s got snot dripping down his face as he cheeses hard at whoever’s mom is taking the picture, and Kastuki’s got his arms crossed, his nose in the air, his hands in fists as he stands begrudgingly next to Deku. Two gremlins, one photo. Deal of the century.
“My mom found this while she was movin’ all our stuff the other day,” Katsuki says, grinning. “Isn’t it stupid?”
Shouto stares at the thing, entranced. He runs his thumb gently along the edges of it as a big, bright smile spreads across his face.
He laughs, a wet, watery thing. “Not much has changed since then, I guess.”
Katsuki laughs now too, elbowing him in the side. “Shut up.”
He tries to hand the photo back to Katsuki after staring at it for a little longer, and Katsuki scowls.
“You keep it,” he urges gently. “You wanted to know me and Deku as kids, right? Well, now you do.”
It’s a little bit fucking stupid, Katsuki knows. Like, who the hell wants somebody else’s baby pictures? He doesn’t know, this was a whim.
Shouto, apparently, really wants his baby pictures.
He holds the stupid thing against his chest, close and protected. Now there’s full on tears streaming down his face and Kastuki would think he fucked this whole thing up royally if a wobbly smile wasn’t there too.
“Thank you,” he says, breathless. He stands up off the barstool and hugs Kastuki tight without warning. “Thank you.”
Katsuki chuckles and hugs him back, trying to keep his heart from beating too noticeably hard against Shouto’s chest. “You gonna frame it?”
“Of course.”
“...I was joking.”
“I’m not. I’m going to frame it.”
As much as Katsuki loathes to admit it, sharing campus with a bunch of random people turns out not to be completely terrible. It’s definitely weird; a constant reminder that hero society is hanging on by a fucking thread and the town he grew up in is shredded to pieces, sure – but it makes UA feel like less of an island and more of a small town itself.
The spring breeze flows through his hair as he watches them mill around on the walking trail below his balcony. Women with babies chat away as they stroll across the brick path. Little kids run around along the grounds, playing some sort of game. The rules of it are lost to Kastuki - they seem to change frequently, with ensuing arguments every few minutes. Their little voices carry all the way up here, somehow.
There’s life here. It’s confined and at times tense and hard to cope with, but it persists anyway, like streaks of sunlight peaking through the rain clouds. He breathes in the damp April air – fresh and filled with smells of early-blooming flowers and stagnant rain puddles.
Some, not so stagnant. Red shoes stomp through one of the bigger ones down the way, followed by white sneakers that keep neat and dry, on the side of the pavement that doesn’t have an ocean to cross. Katsuki smirks, watching them slow down together.
Halfie comes to a stop first and Deku follows suit, and they both look serious as they speak to each other with wringing hands and nervous posture. Icyhot’s shoulders are tensed with his back facing Katsuki, and he wipes a hand across his eyes as he says something to Izuku. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but Deku quickly steps towards him and hugs Icyhot tight in return with a sad, apologetic look on his face.
Shouto holds the back of Deku’s head as he hugs him back, towering over him a little bit. Izuku jams his face into Shouto’s shoulder, not unlike he did to Katsuki last night.
In the privacy of his third floor balcony, Katsuki breathes a sigh of relief as the two of them hold onto each other down below. Deku breaks the hug first to take Shouto’s face in his hands and press their foreheads together, saying something sickly sweet, no doubt. Watching intently, Katsuki’s heart beats faster.
It’s not jealousy, or nerves – it’s just… something. Something that fizzes and bubbles with warmth as Shouto grabs Deku’s hand, and squeezes tight.
And just like that, they resume their stroll – Deku’s smiling and clumsy like usual, and Shouto’s got that serene expression he sports when he’s content; the one that’s been missing for the past few weeks.
It feels like Katsuki’s shed something massive and heavy from his shoulders. It feels like all's right with the world - his world – the two halves of which walk right below him, smiling and happy.
Two slaves to self-sacrifice. Two flames fanned by adults who were too chicken-shit to take care of things themselves and shoved everything onto the shoulders of two teenagers, both of which are too fucking selfless to ever tell anyone “no.”
Deku glances up at Katsuki’s balcony as they get closer (a habit that does not make Katsuki’s stomach do flips, not at all), and spots him, waving. He looks so stupid and nerdy and lame.
Katsuki missed him so much it literally hurts.
“Kacchan!” he calls, “Y’wanna walk with us?”
Katsuki chuckles, scoffs.
“Depends. Are you two done being fuckin’ mushy down there?”
“No,” Shouto sasses, shaking his head at Katsuki. “But you could join us anyways.”
Deku smiles so fucking big at Halfie, and Katsuki can practically see the sparkle in his eyes from all the way up on the third floor. He rolls his eyes and smiles.
“Fine," he groans. “Be down in a sec.”
“Bring a jacket, Kacchan. It’s a little breezy.”
“I know how to dress myself, idiot.”
“He can stay close to my left side. It’s okay,” Shouto says to Deku, completely genuinely by the way, as if that’s a normal fucking thing for him to say.
Katsuki’s sure he won’t need a jacket. The two of them have always made him run a bit warm, after all.