Archive of Our Own ^beta

At first, no one knows that it happens.

The first sign that something is off is Todoroki's absence on a Thursday morning. Aizawa doesn't make any comment. He doesn't ask any questions—this should be the second sign. But somehow, everyone in class 3-A fails to notice it.

The real second sign that everyone does notice is that Todoroki isn't at the dorm in the evening.

It's Deku and Iida who go to Todoroki's room to check on him. The students come to the simple conclusion he must be sick if he skipped classes, so it's only natural that someone should make sure he's all right and ask if he needs help. Except when they knock, Todoroki doesn't answer.

And when they return and tell other students from class 3-A about it, Satou suddenly remembers that he saw Todoroki leaving the dorm in hurry the night before. As it turns out, no one else has seen Todoroki after that. That's the third sign.

The fourth one is the radio silence in form of unanswered calls and unread messages.

At this point, it's clear that something isn't just off. Something is wrong. Very wrong. Todoroki knows better than to disappear like this.

Still, Katsuki tries to tell himself that it may be nothing. That they may be getting worked up over nothing. But it sounds stupid, way too naïve. After the hell that was their first year of high school, then followed by a relatively peaceful second year at UA—or as peaceful as it could be with heroes trying to regain the society's approval and with whatever has been going on following the Todoroki family scandal and the news of Endeavour's retirement—no one wants to take any chances when suddenly one of their classmates just disappears.

Iida doesn't wait long to call Aizawa.

"Calm down," their homeroom teacher says. His voice sounds more strained than it has in months.

Everyone is crowded around Iida to listen to what Aizawa has to say.

"I know about Todoroki's absence. His father called me yesterday."

Katsuki feels like he can breathe maybe a little easier. Like maybe he can calm down a bit. But not completely. There's still something there. Something strange. Something unnatural.

Whatever Todoroki's absence is about, the shit is under control. That's good.

But it's sudden. And Todoroki still hasn't contacted anyone. That's worse.

And his father. The whole class knows that things have changed. The students know that, although the relations are still tense in Todoroki's family, they're working on them. Katsuki knows that it's happening within everyone's boundaries, at least from what Todoroki has told him. Everyone is making as much effort as they're willing to make. But it doesn't ease Katsuki's concern.

Endeavour—no, it's just Todoroki Enji now—was supposed to stay in the shadow. He was supposed to let his children finally do what they want to do without worrying about his presence pressuring them and affecting their choices.

If he's suddenly pulling Todoroki out of classes it either means that things have changed back to the way they were before, or something is very, very wrong.

"Is everything okay with Todoroki?" Deku asks, frowning at the phone.

Aizawa exhales loudly. Tiredly, he says, "Family matters. Let Todoroki sort it out." It sounds final, but then Aizawa also adds, "And if he contacts any of you, don't ask him too many questions. I think he'll appreciate that."

The phone call ends soon after.

Everyone notices, but no one really brings up the fact that when he was asked, Aizawa didn't confirm that Todoroki was fine.

That's the fifth sign.

Todoroki comes back to the dorm on Saturday night. It's late, way past the curfew, and no one is supposed to be up.

No one is supposed to be up, but Katsuki is in the kitchen. The electric kettle is on and he waits for the water to boil to prepare some tea. He's got trouble falling asleep. It doesn't happen often, but it's bad tonight.

The kitchen is dim, only the light from above the oven is on.

The door to the dorm opens.

At first, Katsuki thinks that Aizawa has come to check if the students are all in their rooms. He rolls his eyes. They're almost adults. Katsuki's 18^th birthday is literally in one week. They're not exactly children who need to be watched.

With a sigh, Katsuki steps out of the kitchen, ready to be scolded. But he doesn't see Aizawa.

Todoroki walks across the common room to the stairs. He doesn't look in Katsuki's direction. Todoroki doesn't even seem to ignore him. He simply doesn't notice that there's anyone here.

He doesn't take the lift, just goes up the stairs.

His room is on the fifth floor.

Whatever. Maybe Todoroki is trying to get a little exercise. It's none of Katsuki's business. Nothing about Todoroki is Katsuki's business.

But he notices other things. Concerning things.

Todoroki's posture is stiff. He staggers in his steps. He's careful not to make any sound at all. He's even mindful of his own breathing.

Whatever. Whatever. None of Katsuki's business.

Todoroki has got the right to his privacy.

Katsuki repeats the words to himself as he pours the water into the cup. He repeats them when he turns off the light in the kitchen and goes to his floor.

He... remembers the words but doesn't repeat them when he looks at the stairs and thinks that he just wants to check. Just to make sure. He doesn't know why.

Katsuki goes to the fifth floor.

It's a stupid idea. Todoroki went to his room. He's probably already gone to sleep.

Katsuki won't even knock. He can't disrupt the curfew for other students.

It's stupid. It's useless.

Katsuki reaches the fifth floor.

Todoroki's door is closed.

Katsuki doesn't know what he expected. Maybe to feel reassured. He doesn't.

Somehow, the sight of the closed door makes Katsuki feel powerless.

Something is wrong. He knows it. He can feel it. But when Katsuki had the chance to do something—to say something, catch Todoroki's attention, ask if he's doing all right—he didn't do anything. Like a bystander.

Like a coward.

Katsuki goes to his room.

Something is very wrong.

Despite his problems with falling asleep, Katsuki is the first person to leave his room in the morning. He always makes sure to start his days early, even during the weekends. Even after a bad night.

He goes out for a jog. When he returns, he's still the only one up. This gives him a moment of peace before others start coming downstairs and the chaos begins. Katsuki could just return to his room to avoid that. But if he stays in the common room, he will be able to check when each student of class 3-A starts their day.

He will be able to check on Todoroki, too.

Katsuki stays and waits.

It's understandable when Todoroki doesn't come downstairs before 9 am. He's returned to UA late the night before.

It's a little concerning, but not yet alarming, when he's nowhere to be seen at 11 am.

It's a very lazy day. No one bats an eye when Katsuki doesn't start working on lunch before 1 pm.

But Todoroki still hasn't come out of his room.

Katsuki prepares the cutting board, knifes, bowls, a pan—and then his nerves get the best of him.

He leaves everything on the counter and exits the kitchen.

"Hey, Bakugou?" Kirishima asks, surprised. "You're not cooking today?"

Katsuki doesn't look at him. "Hang on, just wanna check something first."

He doesn't say that he's going to check on Todoroki. Katsuki doesn't know if others are even aware that he's come back, but he doesn't think so. If Todoroki hasn't told anyone he's back, he probably has got a reason for that, and Katsuki is going to respect that. But he can't just do nothing when one of his friends is being weirdly secretive all of a sudden.

When he reaches the door, Katsuki takes a deep, calming breath, and then knocks. Three times.

And waits.

There's nothing. No one opens the door.

Katsuki waits a moment longer, just to make sure that Todoroki doesn't respond. He tries to listen through the door, but he doesn't hear any sound coming from the room.

He knocks again, louder this time. "Halfie?"

Todoroki should be inside his room, unless he's sneaked out of UA at night, which Katsuki doubts. Because why would he come back only to disappear again?

He's there. But he doesn't open.

Katsuki doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all.

Before he can start worrying about it more, though, there's some noise from inside the room. There are some steps, and then the door is unlocked.

It opens and Katsuki is standing face to face with Todoroki.

"Bakugou?" Todoroki asks, surprised, which is fucking weird because who else calls him Halfie here?

"You all right here?" Katsuki asks. "It's late and you haven't eaten anything yet."

The surprised look in Todoroki's eyes doesn't change. He blinks at Katsuki, as if trying to figure out why Katsuki is here in the first place.

He doesn't answer.

Instead, he asks quietly, "How did you know I was here?"

The way he asks makes him sound small and so confused.

So, Todoroki really thought that no one noticed his return to the dorms. He didn't ignore Katsuki last night. He really didn't realise that Katsuki was there in the first place.

"I was in the kitchen when you came back yesterday," Katsuki says, observing Todoroki's reaction.

And Todoroki doesn't seem particularly concerned that he didn't notice anything.

"Oh," is the only thing he says.

It's weird. It's awkward. Which makes it even weirder.

Todoroki hasn't acted awkward in ages, but suddenly Katsuki feels like they're back in their first year. Suddenly they're back to the times when Todoroki didn't really know how to make friends. When he didn't even know he would want to make friends. When he would struggle to make conversations outside of their studies, because he didn't know what other topics he could talk about to people who were the same age as him, thanks to his isolation.

He has improved in that aspect. Fuck, Todoroki has improved so much. He's learnt so much about things that used to be foreign to him but normal to anyone else. He still struggles, sometimes, but much less than two years ago.

Katsuki hates this.

But not only the interaction is weird. Todoroki, generally, seems... off.

His shoulders are still tense, like the night before. His hair is tousled, as if he kept changing positions in his sleep at night. He's got shadows under his eyes. His face is pale. His lips are chapped. His reactions—the way he blinks, the small movements he makes—they seem slowed down.

Behind him, Katsuki can see Todoroki's room. It's dark. The lights are off. The windows are covered.

Todoroki isn't okay. It's obvious.

"I'm making lunch," Katsuki says. "Come downstairs, you need to eat something."

Todoroki frowns. He looks behind his shoulder, visibly hesitating. "It's all right," he says. "I'm not really hungry."

He doesn't sound sincere.

He also doesn't seem to want to leave his room.

Katsuki doesn't know if it's a good idea to force Todoroki to do anything when he's like this, but he can't just stay away and do nothing.

"Yeah, but I'm not letting you fucking starve," he says. "What's going on? Are you sick or something?"

Todoroki shifts on his feet. He doesn't seem comfortable. "Just tired."

Katsuki raises his brow. "You were sleeping just now?"

"Yeah."

Todoroki is ready to retreat to his room and close the door. Everything—his stance, his expression—screams that he wants to be left alone.

Katsuki isn't one to pry or to make someone do anything when it's clear that they really don't want to, but for fuck's sake. This is Todoroki. And he's acting fucking strange, all cold and reserved.

What the hell is Katsuki supposed to do?

"All right," Katsuki says, and he feels like a fucking failure because he doesn't know what to do. It feels like he's giving up. "I will make you some food and bring it to you, then. You don't need to eat everything, just— fuck, you look like you haven't had anything to eat for a fucking week. Just eat some of it."

Don't need to eat anything. If Todoroki is stubborn, he may take it as a permission to have as little as possible.

Katsuki hates that he's giving him this permission, but what if Todoroki is really sick and doesn't want to say anything? Katsuki isn't going to make him puke.

Todoroki's hand tightens on the door handle. He nods stiffly.

Katsuki scratches the back of his head. "And when you feel up to it, respond to Deku, maybe. At least let him know you're alive."

Katsuki has heard Deku telling Iida about how worried he is about Todoroki. Knowing him, he's been sending texts to Todoroki every day.

"Okay," Todoroki agrees quietly.

Katsuki nods.

The door closes.

Katsuki leaves.

He leaves and goes down the stairs, and everything feels wrong. Todoroki hasn't acted so distant in ages, but now he's withdrawing, isolating himself from his friends.

Isolation, again. It's different this time. But it's still this.

When Katsuki is finally downstairs, he's hit how different the atmosphere is here. It's light and optimistic. The noise is natural. People are talking and laughing and bickering. If Todoroki is sick or tired or just doesn't feel well for any other reason, Katsuki can't blame him for not wanting to come out of his room. Maybe some space is really what he needs right now.

Katsuki goes to the kitchen. He looks at the utensils he has prepared and sighs.

Maybe that idiot needs some space, but he needs to eat something, too.

Katsuki was thinking about making tonkatsu, but he dismisses the idea. Tonkatsu can wait. And if anyone complains about the soba he makes instead, they can make lunch for themselves.

For the rest of the day, Katsuki's mind is a mess.

He gave Todoroki food and Todoroki thanked him but didn't say anything else. When Katsuki came back two hours later to get back the bowl, not even half of the food was gone. Katsuki didn't mention it, because he did say Todoroki didn't have to force himself, but Todoroki looked guilty.

Katsuki worries. Todoroki refuses to talk. The only thing he's said so far is, "I'm fine, just having a bad day," after he realised that Katsuki isn't just going to leave him alone.

This just makes Katsuki worry more.

Obviously, Todoroki isn't really fine, but Katsuki doesn't know what he can do. He doesn't know how to treat the other when he's like this, all closed-off and distant and wary. They weren't exactly speaking to each other when Todoroki acted like this at the beginning of high school. But Aizawa knows what's going on, so maybe Todoroki isn't alone. Maybe he'll be fine soon. Aizawa usually knows what he's doing.

Katsuki makes a decision. He will not pressure Todoroki to do or say anything, but he will watch him. Just in case. To ease his nerves. Just until Todoroki starts being his normal self again.

He makes some food for Todoroki again in the evening.

And again, it's barely even touched.

Katsuki isn't going to pry. He isn't going to ask about anything.

But, if Todoroki acts weird the next day, Katsuki will tell Aizawa. It's not prying, just sharing some observations. Stating some facts.

Even if Aizawa is aware of Todoroki's situation, it doesn't mean he knows Todoroki isn't eating. Katsuki doesn't need to know anything. But maybe Aizawa does.

Sunday passes, and so does the night, and then it's Monday morning. Katsuki gets up, goes out for a jog, comes back to shower and get ready for school. He doesn't see Todoroki anywhere. Maybe he's skipping classes.

As it turns out, he isn't. When Katsuki arrives at school with everyone else, Todoroki is already in the classroom, sitting by his desk.

All hell breaks loose.

The students crowd him. They ask him where he's been, and oh, Katsuki realises he forgot for a moment that no one but him knew Todoroki was back at UA. He probably left earlier to avoid being questioned for as long as possible.

"Where have you been?"

"We were all worried, Todoroki!"

"Yeah, don't disappear like that next time, at least say something!"

"Is everything all right?"

"Everyone!" Iida's voice booms, getting his friends' attention. "Give him some space! You know Todoroki doesn't like being crowded like this!"

The questions quiet down with this. Some students offer Todoroki awkward apologies.

"Thanks, Iida," Todoroki says before he adds, this time to everyone, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry anyone."

"That's all right!" Deku beams at him. "You don't need to apologise!"

"I'm sorry for not responding to the messages, either." Todoroki actually looks like he feels bad.

"Honestly, we're just relieved that you're back," Sero says. "But is everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine."

Slowly, the chatter raises, and more people start talking. With that, Todoroki goes back to speaking as little as necessary.

Katsuki can't tell whether anyone notices that Todoroki is acting off, or if hearing him assure everyone that he's fine was enough to make the whole class let their guards down. He hopes they still notice and simply choose not to focus on that. Despite what Katsuki keeps saying, they're not all idiots. Surely they realise that Todoroki isn't being himself right now.

Since Todoroki isn't very talkative, he eventually removes himself from the conversations.

And Katsuki still watches. He continues to watch even during classes and the breaks between them.

Todoroki still isn't fine, but at least he's back to... something.

He isn't slow anymore. He pays attention to others, just doesn't say much. And, okay, it isn't something completely abnormal, but he's just too silent. Katsuki tries to involve him in the conversations twice, saying shit that he knows normally would get some kind of response from Todoroki. Bickering comes easily to them.

Todoroki doesn't say anything. There's nothing at all.

It's weird. It's wrong.

It's worse when Todoroki is nowhere to be seen during lunchtime.

Katsuki sits with Kirishima and Kaminari. He can see the table where Deku sits with Iida and Uraraka. Todoroki isn't there with them.

There's a chance he's got whisked away by someone else from their class to sit with during lunch, but Katsuki can't see him anywhere in the canteen. The place is huge and it can be easy to overlook someone, but Todoroki's hair is distinctive.

He's not here.

Kirishima and Kaminari are talking about something. Katsuki isn't really listening, and they don't pay him any mind, either. It's normal for Katsuki to get lost in his thoughts during lunch.

He finishes his meal quickly and says he needs to go. This surprises the two.

"You good?" Kirishima asks.

"Yeah, just got some shit to deal with."

"What is it?" Kaminari asks.

Katsuki glares at him. "Not your business, Dunce Face."

Kaminari groans at it, complaining about Katsuki being so secretive suddenly, but Katsuki doesn't stay long enough to hear all about it.

As he walks, Katsuki wonders what he's supposed to tell Aizawa. He thinks about Todoroki's behaviour and how to describe it best, but his thoughts get all jumbled up. It's annoying, and he hasn't even got enough time to figure it out before he's in front of the teachers' room.

Well. Whatever. How hard can it be?

Katsuki knocks on the door. He waits a moment before the door opens and Ectoplasm stands in front of him.

"Yes, Bakugou?" the teacher asks.

"I need to talk to Mr. Aizawa."

"He's not here," Ectoplasm says, and Katsuki feels a little disappointed. "I think he stayed in your classroom for the lunch break."

Katsuki mutters thanks and then he's gone, heading towards the classroom. When he gets there, he sees the door is closed. Usually, if Aizawa is inside, he leaves the door open to let the students enter whenever they want. If the door is closed now it must either mean that he's not there, or he is in the middle of a meeting.

Katsuki gets closer to the door and listens, and—

Yeah, okay. Aizawa is there. And he's talking to someone. Katsuki isn't going to interrupt.

He leans against the wall and waits.

It doesn't take long, only about five minutes, before the door opens.

"Remember what I told you," comes Aizawa's voice from inside as he lets someone out first.

This someone is Todoroki Shouto.

"Okay," the boy says.

He turns to look at the teacher, but then his eyes fall on Katsuki. He freezes.

Aizawa steps out of the classroom, too. He notices Katsuki and nods at him—a clear sign of acknowledgment that Katsuki is here and probably has got something to talk about—before his attention is back to Todoroki.

"Go eat something," he says. "The break will be over soon. If you're late for the next class, I will excuse your tardiness this time."

Todoroki nods. "Thank you."

When he passes Katsuki, the younger boy doesn't look at him. Todoroki keeps his eyes on the floor, clearly avoiding any contact with the other student.

"Bakugou," Aizawa says. "Can I help you?"

Katsuki waits a few moments until Todoroki disappears from his sight before he turns to his homeroom teacher. "Did he talk to you?"

Aizawa raises his brows. "You came here to ask about Todoroki?"

"Actually—" Katsuki pauses for a moment, frowning. "I just wanted to say he's acting all weird. But I don't want to ask about that behind his back."

"But you figured that you can't ask him directly," Aizawa guesses.

"I'm not going to ask at all," Katsuki says.

"I see," Aizawa says and then steps aside. He gestures towards the classroom. "Come in, let's not stand in the hall."

Katsuki enters the room and Aizawa closes the door behind them so they won't be disturbed.

"You know what's going on with him," Katsuki says. He stares at Aizawa pointedly. "You said you do."

"I know," Aizawa confirms.

"I said it, I'm not going to ask."

"I know that, too."

"It's just—" Katsuki says, then stops again, because it's what.

It's Todoroki not wanting anyone to know that he was back in the dorms so he could isolate himself. It's him not eating, and even though Aizawa told him to go eat something now, Katsuki doubts that Todoroki will. He's almost completely sure that Todoroki will not be late for their next class.

It's Todoroki being distant and tired and all wrong. It's Todoroki going back to the way he was before, and knowing how bad it was for him at that time, Katsuki really wants to avoid it.

"He won't talk to any of us," Katsuki says. "And I don't mean that he should talk to me, he doesn't need to. I'm not even the best person for that. But he's isolating himself. He isn't eating. He hardly ate yesterday, and I don't know if he's had anything at all today. Something is wrong and he doesn't need to explain anything but he says he's fine and I know that he's not."

Katsuki still struggles to admit some things. He has matured, but there are some feelings that he still finds difficult to express.

Like the fear that one of his most important friends is slowly destroying himself.

"Listen, kid," Aizawa says. He observes Katsuki carefully with his eye. His voice is warm. His gaze is attentive. "It's okay to be worried. It's okay to express that you are."

"He doesn't need people breathing down his neck."

"No," Aizawa agrees. "But it would be good for him to know that he's got your support."

Katsuki wants to snort. He knows what Aizawa wants him to do. He wants him to say that to Todoroki. But he can't just tell him that. That's the shit Deku does. Deku is the one who says sappy shit to his friends and all. Not Katsuki. He's not sentimental. He can't force himself to be. And even if he does, Todoroki will know that it's not the real him.

That's the moment that Katsuki realises how fucking powerless he feels.

He wonders if maybe Todoroki feels the same way about whatever he's dealing with right now. If yes, then Katsuki realises he's got no right to complain.

"Yeah, I guess." He'll just need to figure it out. How to approach Todoroki.

Aizawa smiles at him slightly. It's a little strained, and he's got that look in his eye. The one from their first year, when he would complain about how much headache his students give him all the time.

He doesn't say anything about a headache this time, though.

Instead he says, "You're a good friend."

Katsuki isn't sentimental, but this time instead of denying it, he says nothing. All he can think about is only: is he really such a good friend to Todoroki?

That can't be right if Katsuki feels like he's failing him.

In the evening Todoroki once again hides in his room.

Earlier, when talking to Aizawa, Katsuki thought he'd need to figure out how to be there for his friend in a way that both works for him and won't make Todoroki feel cornered. He doesn't want Todoroki to think that he needs to avoid Katsuki, or to feel forced to spill what's been going on.

And Katsuki figures it out.

It's 8 pm when he knocks on Todoroki's door, one bowl with dinner in one hand and another balanced on his forearm and supported by his chest. As soon as he stops knocking, Katsuki grabs the second bowl. It doesn't fall. The food is safe.

Small victories.

Todoroki opens the door and this time he doesn't look surprised to see Katsuki. "Can I help you?"

The way Todoroki looks at him tells Katsuki that he hopes the older boy will give up on whatever it is he's trying to do and leave.

Ha. As if.

"Move, Halfie."

Confidently, Katsuki marches through the door and Todoroki just steps aside, letting him enter. He doesn't look happy. But he doesn't really protest, either.

"It's fucking dark in here," Katsuki complains. He puts the two bowls on Todoroki's desk. The door is still open, so there's some light coming in from the hall, but still. The room is dark. "Your lightbulb's burnt out or what?"

"What are you doing?" Todoroki asks, ignoring Katsuki's question.

"Judging your living habits, obviously." Katsuki walks up to the switch and turns on the light. "Hey, look! It works."

"I was about to sleep—"

"Were you? Oh, I'm so sorry for disturbing you," Katsuki says, walking through the room again. "Good thing I brought you dinner, then. It's a fucking nightmare when you go to bed hungry."

Todoroki frowns, but he finally closes the door, as if accepting that Katsuki isn't just going to leave. "I'm not hungry—"

"Now, that's impressive," Katsuki says. "Considering how little you had yesterday and that you probably haven't eaten anything today at all."

Todoroki looks at the floor. "I ate," he says quietly.

Yeah. Super convincing.

"Cool," Katsuki says, grabbing a pair of chopsticks and holding them out for Todoroki. "Now, eat this."

Todoroki glares at the chopsticks.

Katsuki doesn't want to back down. He also doesn't want to cross any lines. It's difficult to find the balance right now. If Todoroki tells him to leave now, Katsuki will feel like he has to leave, because he isn't one to impose. But this is serious. Probably much more serious than anything that Katsuki has had to deal with so far. Except for his hero work.

Todoroki isn't eating. He keeps saying that he's sleeping all the time, but it doesn't seem like he's had the chance to actually rest for a while.

This is fucking dangerous.

So, for now, Katsuki decides to trust his instinct. He hopes Todoroki won't hold it against him later, even if Katsuki ends up getting on his nerves.

They stay like this for a longer while. Todoroki makes no move to take the chopsticks from Katsuki, and finally, the older boy sighs.

"Look," he says. His voice is softer, rid of the sarcasm that was there moments ago. "I'm not here to pry. It's obvious that something is wrong, but if you don't want to talk about it, I'm not going to make you."

Todoroki blinks, taken aback. "You won't?" he asks.

He sounds doubtful.

"Obviously. It's some private stuff, you don't need to say anything if you don't want to. But you need to fucking eat." Katsuki looks Todoroki in the eyes. He must be stern. He must get his point across. "You're in a hero course. You know how hard it is. You're going to fucking keel over if you keep this up."

Todoroki does look uncomfortable hearing the words. Great. Maybe something will get through that thick skull of his.

"Like yesterday, you don't even need to eat everything if you can't," Katsuki adds. "Just as much as you can. And then I'll fuck off and you can sleep or do whatever."

There's still some uneasiness, but Todoroki hesitates only for a moment before he finally accepts the chopsticks. He sits down beside Katsuki, who feels pretty damn smug but at the same time chastises himself for it. There is something big going on that Katsuki doesn't really understand. He shouldn't be feeling proud for getting Todoroki of all people to listen to him.

"Why are you doing this?" Todoroki asks, grabbing his bowl. "You know you don't have to."

Katsuki shrugs. "I like cooking. You don't eat much," he says simply. "Seems pretty fucking logical to me."

"Okay."

They eat in silence.

Katsuki doesn't bother to pretend he isn't watching Todoroki, who looks like he's more busy playing with the food than actually eating it, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't make any comments.

He just waits.

Todoroki does manage to eat some of it, but the more time passes, the more distracted he becomes. He keeps spacing out, getting lost in his thoughts.

Katsuki doesn't know what this is about. At first he does nothing.

But then, he tries to distract Todoroki. Katsuki stretches his legs and accidentally brushes Todoroki's calf with his own. He pretends to accidentally nudge Todoroki's arm with his own.

Whenever he does, Todoroki blinks and seems to remember what he's supposed to be doing now.

Finally, Todoroki decides that's enough.

"Thank you," he says, putting down the chopsticks.

Katsuki tries not to frown when he sees that Todoroki hasn't even eaten half of his food. But he still doesn't say anything. He promised he won't force Todoroki to eat more than he can.

He needs to trust the other that's all he'll be able to stomach.

"No problem," Katsuki says.

He gets up, takes the bowls, says goodnight, and leaves. His job is done.

He decides to ignore the desire to stay with Todoroki instead of leaving him alone.

Tuesday is almost the same as Monday.

Katsuki works through his routine. When it's time to go to school, Todoroki is the last one to leave his room, evidently trying to avoid other students.

They have their classes, then there's lunch. Todoroki doesn't come to the canteen. Then there are more classes, and then there's hero training.

Today, it's nothing much. Aizawa puts them in pairs. They're all supposed to spar without using their quirks. They haven't done it in a long time. The pairs are chosen randomly.

Katsuki gets to fight Sero first, which isn't bad, but Katsuki still manages to win quite easily, before Aizawa decides to change the pairs and Katsuki ends up with Yaoyorozu. The pairs change a few more times. Eventually, Katsuki spars with Shouji, who is the most challenging opponent, and Katsuki thrives.

They fight, the longer they do the more exhilarating it is for Katsuki. Shouji isn't only strong—even without using his quirk to make more appendages or enhance his strength—but he's also skilled. And Katsuki doesn't spar with him often, which makes beating Shouji even harder and even more exciting.

It's a whole mess of punches, kicks, and blocks. Katsuki is sweating so much he instinctively wants to make explosions and needs to keep reminding himself he isn't allowed to use his quirk, even though that's what he's used to in the middle of a fight.

He clenches his fist, avoids Shouji's hit, takes a swipe—

—and then there's a sudden thud somewhere on his right, followed by a very panicked, "Todoroki!"

Katsuki and Shouji stop their fight instantly. Everyone does.

Todoroki is on the floor, half-lying, half-sitting, supporting himself on his left elbow as he leans forward. He holds his face with his right hand and keeps it above the floor.

A very panicked Ojiro is kneeling next to Todoroki, watching the other student frantically, not knowing what to do with his hands.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, really," Ojiro says.

Katsuki can see blood flowing through Todoroki's fingers. Some of it lands on the floor.

Aizawa is there in an instant. He gets Todoroki to lift his hand so he can assess the damage. When he sees Todoroki's face he hisses. "Dammit, kid."

Katsuki can't see Todoroki's face from where he's standing, but he knows it must look bad.

Aizawa pulls out a tissue from his pocket and gives it to Todoroki to press against his nose before helping him get up. Once Todoroki's on his feet, the teacher addresses the class, "All right, everyone. There's five minutes left, but you're all dismissed for today. Change and get back to the dorm."

The class responds, but Aizawa's attention is back to Todoroki as he walks the injured student out of the gym so he can see Recovery Girl.

When they leave, everyone is silent for a moment, before Kaminari breaks the silence. "The hell was that?"

"I don't know," Ojiro says, still shaken. "I mean— I knew I was using a lot of force, but I was sure he would block that— he was in the perfect position, and I knew something was off about him, but I really— I just thought—"

"Hey, chill," Kirishima says. "Everyone knows you didn't mean to."

"Yeah, and so does Todoroki. He won't hold it against you," Deku adds.

"But still," Ojiro protests. "I broke his nose!"

"Accidents happen," Iida says. "It's physical training, we can't always predict that something may go wrong. Maybe he got distracted, but you can't spar and keep thinking where to hit and how to make sure you will be blocked."

"And when you spar you are supposed to hit your opponent," Asui says.

Ojiro doesn't look comforted. "Yeah, but— I could be more careful or something."

It's obvious that it isn't about the fact that Ojiro has injured someone during training. Accidents like this one do happen, just as Iida has said.

It's about Todoroki.

Even though he isn't the best in sparring, he's got better during the past two years at UA. Normally, he wouldn't allow himself to get injured badly enough to stop the training. Especially if he should have been able to block the attack, as Ojiro has said.

But Todoroki hasn't blocked it.

For the past few days he's been acting strange while no one's got any idea why, and then he has got hurt during a class.

They move to the changing rooms. The atmosphere is a little gloomy, and it doesn't improve much when they're back in the dorm.

The students disperse. Most of them go to their rooms, but a few—Deku, Yaoyorozu, Jirou, Ashido, Tokoyami, and Ojiro—stay in the common room to work on their homework together. Katsuki decides to stay with the group, not because he prefers studying with others, but because he wants to know when Todoroki gets back.

One look at a nervous Ojiro and Katsuki supposes he's stayed for the same reason.

Katsuki manages to start working on an essay for Present Mic before he realises that it's much harder to focus than he expected, but he doesn't leave.

It's about two hours later when the door to the dorm opens and Todoroki enters the building.

Everyone focuses on him.

"Todoroki!" Deku exclaims, standing up, and Todoroki visibly hesitates before walking up to them. "How's your nose?"

"Fine," Todoroki says and doesn't elaborate.

He does look okay. There doesn't seem to be anything off about his face, apart from the obvious exhaustion that's been sticking to Todoroki ever since he's returned from home, now amplified by Recovery Girl's quirk. But no one would be able to say that just two hours ago he was bleeding heavily from his nose.

Ojiro looks relieved. "Todoroki, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

Yaoyorozu also smiles in relief. "Good thing that it wasn't too serious and could be easily fixed."

"Right, just imagine how awful it would be if something happened to this pretty face," Ashido adds.

Todoroki doesn't react to the compliment. He never reacts, so it's nothing new. But he doesn't indulge them at all. Todoroki doesn't look like he wants to stay and talk. He seems ready to escape, to run away and hide in his room again.

And Katsuki is fed up.

"And you?" Katsuki asks.

Todoroki blinks at him. "What?"

"How are you, Halfie."

"Fine, too." The response is automatic. Insincere.

Katsuki doesn't like it, but he can't do anything about it. He said he won't bother Todoroki to tell him about what's going on, and he isn't going to. He will keep his promise.

But it's getting frustrating. Because how is Katsuki supposed to help when he doesn't know how?

Everyone is surprised when Katsuki suddenly slams his books closed. He stands up from the table, keeping his eyes locked with Todoroki. "Come with me."

No one says anything. Katsuki pretends he doesn't notice the way the other students look concerned at Katsuki's sudden irritation.

Todoroki seems taken aback, and he looks like he really doesn't want to follow Katsuki, but he still does. Katsuki leads him to the kitchen. It isn't the most private place, others can see them from where they're sitting, but if they're not too loud, no one will hear if they talk.

Katsuki starts going through the cabinets.

Todoroki just stares at him. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner," Katsuki says. Then he adds, quietly. "What the hell was that at the gym? That's exactly what I warned you about."

Literally less than twenty four hours earlier Katsuki told Todoroki how important it is for him to take care of himself when this is their routine. And the first thing that Todoroki does is getting hurt during training. Fucking figures.

"I've got no idea if you got distracted or felt sick or whatever," Katsuki says, getting the ingredients ready. "But you can't keep this up. You'll destroy yourself at this rate."

"It was just an accident."

"Accident," Katsuki snorts. "Like hell it was."

Todoroki doesn't look at him.

Katsuki stops what he's doing. It's easy to get frustrated like this, but suddenly he's hit with realisation how much worse Todoroki looks now than just two days before. He kept telling himself that it's because Todoroki hasn't been eating, and if Katsuki kept following him and making sure that he got at least something in his stomach every day, maybe it would get better.

It doesn't get better, though. It gets worse.

Todoroki's shoulders are slumped more than before. The shadows under his eyes are darker. His hair is greasy and matted and in need of washing. Todoroki looks even more like his own shadow than before.

And it's all been happening right under Katsuki's nose. Right when Katsuki was deluding himself into thinking that he's taking care of Todoroki and helping him.

You're a good friend, Aizawa told him.

What a joke.

Katsuki is the worst friend anyone could ever ask for. Todoroki won't even look at him, because clearly what Katsuki has been giving him is more stress. He wasn't helping him at all.

"I'm sorry," Katsuki says, softly. He lets his hands rest on the kitchen counter. "I don't know what I'm doing. I thought that maybe I could help, but..."

But, what. But, he doesn't know.

Pathetic.

"I'm just worried about you," Katsuki whispers.

Aizawa told him that it's okay to express that he's worried about other people. And yet, for Katsuki, saying these words after he's failed his friend is a major fall.

Todoroki furrows his brows as he looks at Katsuki. "You don't have to," he says. Of course that's what he says. Is Katsuki even surprised? "I don't want you to worry—"

"It's not exactly something I can turn off, you know," Katsuki says.

Todoroki doesn't say anything for a moment, as if considering how he should respond. "I just... think that there are more important things for you to think about."

Katsuki rolls his eyes, only a little annoyed. "Well, you're an idiot if you think so."

Todoroki looks like he honestly hasn't got any idea how to respond.

They eat dinner together, and Todoroki makes the effort to finish the whole meal, even though it takes a lot of time.

And, somehow, Katsuki thinks that maybe it's a start. That maybe now things will start to improve. Not much. Just a little. But maybe it's a start.

Katsuki isn't sure which part of what he's said made Todoroki start trying, but on Wednesday the younger boy comes with Katsuki to the canteen and has lunch. They sit with Deku and Iida, which is perfect, because the two are obviously very worried about Todoroki but know better than to ask any questions when it's clear Todoroki doesn't want to talk.

The day passes by. During the hero training everyone seems mindful of Todoroki. No one says anything, but it's obvious that they are careful with him.

Katsuki wonders if Todoroki is annoyed that they're treating him like he's made of glass.

But Todoroki keeps his expression calm. He doesn't show how he feels about things happening around him. Almost as if he doesn't notice.

He seems more careful, too.

It's going pretty well. It's not a major improvement, but it feels like a start, maybe.

And then it all crashes down.

Katsuki is alone in his room when he finally learns the truth.

It's Wednesday evening. Everyone is stressed about the school work that has managed to pile up after only two and a half weeks of school—it hasn't even been a full month yet—so no one's got the time to spend on something else than school. Like news. Or rumours.

Katsuki works on the same essay as the day before when he thinks he needs a break. He puts down the pen and stretches his arms, yawning loudly. Then, he takes his phone in his hand, just to occupy himself for ten minutes before he continues his writing.

He unlocks the phone and starts going through different apps, trying to find something interesting to do.

And then he clicks on the news app.

Todoroki's family name catches his attention.

Usually, Katsuki doesn't do this shit. Ever since the Paranormal Liberation War, he ignores any news regarding Todoroki's family that he finds. Not everything what the media says is true. Many of these are rumours or speculations. They're disrespectful, and if there's anything important going on, Todoroki tells them.

Usually, it's like this, but this time, Katsuki reads the title of an article before he can even realise what he's doing.

The follow-up of the hellish Todoroki family's scandal: what does the death of villain Dabi mean for the most controversial family in Japan?

Katsuki stares at the words.

Something drops in his stomach.

He doesn't think. He doesn't control it when he clicks the link and opens the article.

On Wednesday, 17^th April, former number one hero Todoroki Enji, known previously as Endeavour, confirmed the demise of his firstborn son Todoroki Touya. The oldest Todoroki son passed away exactly one week earlier, on 10^th April, but the information hasn't been released to the public until now...

Katsuki stops.

He can't. He can't fucking read that.

What the fuck is he doing.

But he still stares blankly at the screen, at the title, as if it was mocking him. It is mocking, but it's not aimed at Katsuki.

What does the death of Dabi mean for the most controversial family in Japan.

What does the death of a person mean to their family.

What does the death of a brother mean to his siblings.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The most controversial family in Japan. Because the Todorokis aren't a normal family in the eyes of the society. They're a spectacle. A source of entertainment. A topic for a debate.

Katsuki feels fucking sick.

He doesn't think. He just stands up and runs out of his room, runs up the stairs, and then he knocks on the door.

Todoroki opens it and Katsuki's breath hitches.

He looks miserable. His face is pale. His eyes are empty. He's wearing his own hoodie, but it looks way too big for him. Todoroki looks like he's moments away from crashing—

Except he doesn't. That's the fucking thing.

Todoroki hasn't allowed himself to break down at all. He looks like he's about to, but there's always one last thread that still keeps him going. That doesn't allow him to crash.

Katsuki hates seeing him like this.

He hates that Todoroki felt the need to hide it.

It's been a week.

Todoroki kept saying he was fine.

"I saw," Katsuki says, but he supposes Todoroki is aware. Katsuki doesn't know what his expression looks like, but he's sure that every emotion must be written on his face. "I— Fuck. Fuck, Shouto."

Todoroki lets him inside. He closes the door after Katsuki gently, and Katsuki watches him. He observes every little movement that Todoroki makes, every gesture, every sign of anything, everything. He knew that something has been going on, something big, but he didn't expect it to be that big. But it makes sense now.

Because people don't start isolating themselves all of a sudden. They don't stop taking care of themselves and avoiding their friends just like that. The signs were all there. They were loud. They were screaming at Katsuki, at all of them, from the very beginning. And Katsuki went and ignored them all.

And Todoroki—

Todoroki has been left alone. Suffering. Grieving.

It was grief, Katsuki realises. This whole time, Todoroki has been mourning.

"My sister called me," Todoroki says quietly. He's facing Katsuki, but his eyes don't leave the floor. "She said the old man had spoken about Touya."

Katsuki feels a ball in his throat. "I saw an article," he says, feeling guilty. He wasn't supposed to read any articles about them. And yet. And yet. "I'm sorry. I haven't read it, not all of it, but— just from the title—"

"It's okay," Todoroki says. "It can't be helped. It's public now. Everyone will find out in some way."

It shouldn't be. It shouldn't be. Todoroki has lost a family member. He's lost a brother. It's something private. It should be private, but now it isn't. Because Todoroki isn't a person to them. Because of his family ties, he's already a public figure, even before he became a Pro Hero.

Immense fury goes through Katsuki, through his veins, through every cell in his body.

There's the urge to scream and to destroy. To tell everyone to fuck off. To tell Todoroki—no, to scream in his face—that he doesn't deserve any of it.

He doesn't. Katsuki doesn't do anything violent.

Instead he lifts his arms slowly, making sure that Todoroki sees his every movement, and steps closer. He closes his arms around Todoroki and hugs him. Katsuki is gentle at first, trying to gauge Todoroki's reaction. He looks for any signs of discomfort from the other boy, but when he doesn't see any, he gives Todoroki a firm squeeze.

A few seconds later, Todoroki hugs him back.

Katsuki gives him another squeeze. "I'm here," he says. "You're not alone. You don't have to go through this alone."

He hopes his words will reach Todoroki.

"And not only me," Katsuki adds. "All those idiots—they're there for you, too. You've got your friends."

Todoroki takes a deep breath. He lowers his head, leans forward so he can press his forehead to Katsuki's shoulder. Katsuki puts his hand on Todoroki's head.

"Thank you," Todoroki whispers. "I— it means a lot. Really."

I know, is what Katsuki wants to say, but he stops himself.

Because, really, he doesn't know.

Katsuki hasn't got any siblings. He doesn't know what it means to lose a brother, and he doesn't think he can even imagine that.

He especially doesn't know what it means to lose an older brother who was supposed to be long dead, only to return as a villain. Who would threaten to kill him. Whom he would need to fight, because no one else would be able to do it. Not only because of Todoroki's quirk, but also because other heroes would be focused on defeating the villain and not saving the missed member of a broken family.

He doesn't know how it feels to lose a brother that Todoroki fought so hard to get back.

"Whatever you need," Katsuki whispers.

He runs his fingers through the strands of Todoroki's hair. It isn't greasy anymore. Todoroki washed it the day before.

The day before, Katsuki thought everything would be all right.

Fuck.

"Anything," Katsuki adds. "Just ask about it."

Todoroki gives a tiny nod against Katsuki's shoulder.

They stay like this for a few minutes. Katsuki doesn't dare move. He lets Todoroki decide when to let go of him.

When Todoroki finally does, he quickly brings his hand to his face and rubs his eyes, getting rid of the tears that have welled up.

Katsuki's chest squeezes painfully at the sight.

Todoroki still won't allow himself to cry.

"Sorry," Todoroki whispers.

Katsuki wants to scream.

"Fucking—" he says, his throat is tight, and he takes Todoroki's hand. "—don't."

They notice at the same time when Todoroki's phone lights up, but there's no sound. Todoroki must have put it in silent mode. Katsuki is close enough to see that Todoroki is being bombarded with messages. Many of them, if not all, are from their classmates.

Todoroki's got an apprehensive look as he stares at the phone.

"Hey," Katsuki says, giving his hand a squeeze. "It's okay. You don't need to respond immediately."

"I should," Todoroki says. "I already ignored everyone before."

"It's not a task," Katsuki says. "They get it. If you don't feel like responding, they can wait some more. They'll understand."

Todoroki nods, but he still takes the phone. Katsuki lets go of his hand. Todoroki opens the messages and moves to sit down on the futon, but then he suddenly stops and looks at Katsuki. "Actually, can you..."

Katsuki waits, eager to do anything Todoroki asks him for.

Todoroki hesitates only for a moment. "If it's okay with you—can you stay? A little longer?"

Katsuki nods. "Yeah."

Of course he will fucking stay.

He sits down next to Todoroki. Their arms are pressed together. Katsuki watches as Todoroki worries his bottom lip between his teeth, typing slowly to respond to everyone's messages. He's probably assuring everyone that he's all right, which Katsuki hates, but doesn't say anything. He doesn't read over Todoroki's shoulder.

Instead, Katsuki sneaks an arm around Todoroki's shoulders. He rests his head against Todoroki's and closes his eyes, hoping to express what Todoroki needs to know.

You're not alone.

Katsuki stays the night in Todoroki's room.

They don't notice it when they fall asleep on the futon. It's not very comfortable. They're in awkward positions. Katsuki's still in his jeans and T-shirt from the day before.

Katsuki is the first one to wake up. His neck is killing him. Todoroki's alarm clock tells him it's 5:17. Katsuki reads the time and closes his eyes. He doesn't know if he'll fall asleep again, but even if he doesn't, it's okay.

Todoroki is breathing deeply beside him. Katsuki finds comfort in the sound.

Even if things aren't all right now, they will be, he tells himself, but at the same time he knows he can't say anything like this to Todoroki. It feels arrogant and insensitive to tell someone who's trying to deal with the death of a loved one that things will be all right. It would sound shallow coming from Katsuki, who can't even begin to imagine what Todoroki must be going through.

Katsuki doesn't fall asleep. At 7:00, Todoroki's alarm goes off and Todoroki searches blindly for it with his hand, without opening his eyes, before he finally slams at the offending object.

When the alarm is turned off, Todoroki opens his eyes, blinking sleepily at the world around him. He frowns when he sees Katsuki.

"Oh," Todoroki says. "We fell asleep."

"Yeah," Katsuki says.

They lie on the futon for a few minutes, not willing to move.

"We should get ready," Todoroki says finally, but makes no move to get up.

Katsuki hums in agreement and then frowns. "Do you want to go to school today?"

Todoroki looks at him. "Why are you asking?"

"You could call Aizawa," Katsuki says. "If you don't feel like going to school today, he would probably allow you to skip classes."

Todoroki blinks lazily. "Hm," he says. "I want to go." He sits up.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Todoroki runs his hand down his face tiredly. "It's good when there's something I can focus on. It's better than spending the whole day on my own."

Katsuki thinks back to Sunday. Todoroki isolated himself for the whole day and wouldn't come out at all. He wouldn't talk to anyone unless confronted about it. Katsuki can't help but wonder if Todoroki was alone because he needed to or because he had no idea how to ask anyone for comfort.

He frowns at the thoughts. It's not important now.

What's important is that Todoroki has finally let him in, and now he needs to make sure he won't fuck it up.

"Okay. Whatever you want, Halfie," Katsuki says.

Todoroki watches him. He looks like he's thinking about something. Like there's a question he wants to ask. Katsuki wishes Todoroki would say what's on his mind without any prompting. He waits, but Todoroki doesn't say anything in the end.

Katsuki raises his brows. "What?"

Todoroki hesitates, and then shrugs. "Nothing."

Katsuki frowns. It's not nothing, obviously. He thought that Todoroki knows that he can tell him anything, so it confuses him that Todoroki isn't saying anything now, but he decides to let it go.

Most probably, Todoroki still isn't comfortable with letting him in completely. That's normal. Katsuki can't be impatient. He needs to remember that Todoroki is the most important here, and he can't break his trust.

Katsuki gets up. "We need to get ready," he says. "Actually— we need to fucking shower. Grab your stuff and then we'll stop by my room."

And the day begins.

Everyone is worried, which is to be expected.

They don't bother Todoroki, probably because Todoroki has already assured them that he's doing well the night before while responding to everyone's messages, but they still watch out for him.

Katsuki can't help but think he'd feel suffocated if he was getting so much attention. Todoroki does seem trapped a little, but he responds to everyone with kindness. It's obvious that he appreciates everyone's concern, even though he truly believes that there is no reason for them to worry about him so much.

Every time Katsuki catches the confused look on Todoroki's face when someone voices their concern for the younger boy, something in him breaks.

As soon as Deku sees them, he attaches himself to Todoroki's side. Before they leave to school, Iida tells Todoroki that he will gladly help him with anything, if Todoroki needs it.

Everyone is trying to show their support.

But Todoroki stays close to Katsuki the most. He follows him everywhere, and Katsuki lets him. He's relieved that Todoroki is trying to lean on the support that he's getting instead of shying away from it. And Katsuki treats him as he always does.

He makes some rude comment about something they see on their way to school and lets Todoroki criticise him for it. He says he finds something dumb, and Todoroki makes a comment about his choice of words.

It feels natural. It feels normal.

But at the same time, Todoroki walks closer to Katsuki than he usually would.

Katsuki is more mindful of his surroundings, catching anyone who even looks in their direction. He glares at people who stare and is unnecessarily loud when he hears someone mention yesterday's news, because Todoroki doesn't need this shit.

Todoroki must have noticed that, but he says nothing. He just sticks close to Katsuki and goes on with his day.

The first crack appears on Thursday evening. A full day after Katsuki has found out about Todoroki Touya's death.

They're in the library. Todoroki has got trouble keeping up with the classes. He hasn't caught up with the material from the two days when he was absent, and he couldn't focus at school after he returned. And now, it's difficult for him to understand the new stuff.

Katsuki has agreed to help him. Has offered to, even.

And now, they're seated by a table next to each other.

They don't usually study together. Both of them prefer studying alone, unless they're supposed to tutor someone. And since both of them receive high marks, usually they aren't the ones in need of help, so this is kind of new. And also kind of nice. Todoroki's presence is nice.

Studying with Todoroki is great. When he's focused, he can understand things easily. Katsuki doesn't need to spend a lot of time explaining the same thing over and over again, trying to come up with simpler and simpler examples so it makes sense.

After studying together for two hours, they start working on their homework separately in silence.

And after one hour of doing homework, Katsuki thinks it's time for a break. His left leg has gone numb. Maybe it would be a good idea to go for a walk. He says that to Todoroki and suggests the younger boy should tag along, but Todoroki declines. So, Katsuki leaves alone.

He's gone maybe for ten minutes. When he left, Todoroki was frowning at his math problem.

When he's back, Todoroki is playing with his phone.

Katsuki doesn't think much about it. Probably Todoroki decided a break would be a good idea, after all. Katsuki sits down next to him, ready to return to his homework, when he catches a glimpse of Todoroki's screen.

It's one of the social media apps.

He knows that Todoroki isn't active online. He uses the apps only to find some content about his favourite mangas and to be up to date with the news regarding heroes.

And Katsuki knows that right now, the internet is full of news about the Todorokis.

"Hey," Katsuki says, frowning. "Halfie."

Todoroki looks at him. "What?"

He looks slightly alarmed, like a deer caught in headlights. Katsuki doesn't miss the way Todoroki angles the phone to hide what he's doing.

Katsuki takes it as a confirmation for his assumptions.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

Todoroki locks his phone. "It's nothing."

He still looks trapped.

Katsuki nearly snorts. The hell it is.

He doesn't need to be a genius to know what Todoroki has seen on his phone. This is what happened one year ago, too, after Touya's video was broadcasted for the whole country to see, revealing all the shit that has been going on with Todoroki's family.

At that time, the internet was a mess. People would go there and post all kinds of shit, with no regard for those who were affected the most.

And, okay. It's not that Katsuki disagreed with all of them. When he saw people talk shit about Endeavour, he found himself thinking that it was deserved. Because who the fuck lets their own ambition turn into obsession so bad that it poisons the whole family, causes all kinds of abuse, and keeps feeding it for over two decades. Who the fuck continues to abuse their family after their child supposedly dies. Endeavour has changed—good for him, or something—but he was still the one to blame for all the shit that had happened.

He was the one who separated Todoroki from his family and ruined his entire childhood. Todoroki is Katsuki's friend, and even if Katsuki can recognise the former no.1 Hero, he really can't feel any sympathy for that man. Because of Todoroki, this has become Katsuki's personal grudge.

As Todoroki Touya had said: the past never dies.

But Todoroki Enji wasn't the only person the hatred was directed to.

Katsuki saw way too many comments about Todoroki. That he should be expelled from UA because there's no way a person with such a background would become a hero. That he's probably already like Dabi. That giving him a license is dangerous, he could attack innocent people and claim he was fighting villains. That his mother had spent years in a mental institution, so surely the kid is insane as well.

And the worst thing was that Todoroki saw them, too.

They had to avoid going online as much as possible, but you can't be completely offline all the time. And you can't choose what not to hear when people whisper about you in the streets.

But it's one thing to not be able to avoid people's negative comments. It's a completely different thing to torture yourself by seeking them out.

And—

Okay, Katsuki's pissed off.

"What are you doing?" Katsuki asks.

Todoroki doesn't answer.

Katsuki hasn't changed his mind. He wants Todoroki to trust him with things at his own pace. Katsuki doesn't want to pressure him into saying anything, because Todoroki should be allowed to have at least a little control over something. But he can't just sit and do nothing about this.

He supposes that if Todoroki is looking at the comments online, it must mean that he can't stop thinking about it. He's probably looking for something that would allow him to indulge in his thoughts.

But surely there are healthier ways to do this.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Todoroki raises his brows and shrugs. "I don't think there's much to talk about."

"But there's a lot to read about," Katsuki notices.

Todoroki tenses beside him.

Katsuki can't let it go. "Why the fuck are you doing this to yourself?" he asks quietly, knowing that they can't be loud in the library. "You know that people are idiots and they always say the worst shit in the internet."

Todoroki's expression hardens. He tightens his grip on his phone.

For a split moment, Katsuki worries that maybe he's crossing a line. He doesn't know what he's doing. It's his first time trying to talk to someone after they lost a family member. Todoroki needs someone beside him so he knows he's not alone. But at the same time, he also needs someone who won't make him feel worse.

Katsuki doesn't know if he can do both of these things at the same time, but he will try.

"Todoroki," Katsuki says. "You know this isn't healthy."

"I'm not doing anything," Todoroki whispers.

"You're torturing yourself."

"How do you know," Todoroki asks.

He isn't impatient. He isn't annoyed.

He's perfectly calm. But it's not the calm that Katsuki is used to.

His voice is cold.

It's not the Todoroki that maintains a passive face when he tells Katsuki off, whose true intent is given away by that spark in his eyes that he can't conceal when he's being a little shit. It's not the Todoroki that doesn't let his emotions show because he doesn't want them to overshadow other people's feelings when he thinks they need some space to vent while he's there to listen and to help. To be the supportive friend they need.

This time, Todoroki is calm because he's angry. He's calm because he thinks he's not allowed to show that he's hurt.

He's been supporting others for so long that it shouldn't be surprising he doesn't know how to act when he's the one who needs support now. Which is awful, because Todoroki should have had people who would be there for him his whole life.

"Because I fucking know you," Katsuki says, loath to even think what it means if Todoroki behaves like this now. "I saw you doing this shit before. I just don't get why you're so adamant on it."

Todoroki doesn't say anything. Maybe he doesn't know why he's doing it either. Maybe he just refuses to say.

Whatever the answer is, Katsuki doesn't want to just leave it like this. Todoroki has suffered through enough, he doesn't deserve the world to make the situation even more shitty for him.

"You can't stop thinking about him," Katsuki says.

Todoroki frowns. "How can I not think about him?" he asks.

"If you think about him constantly and want to talk, then you can talk," Katsuki says. "You've got people around you who want to listen."

Todoroki looks at their books scattered around the table. He looks at his abandoned math homework and sighs as he takes the notebook and closes it. "I think we should leave."

Yeah, okay. Library is not the best place for this kind of talk.

Katsuki nods and starts gathering his stuff.

When they leave, the atmosphere between the two of them is still tense. Katsuki can't help but feel that he's failed again. He's afraid that somehow he's hurt Todoroki. The thought is unbearable.

They walk together in silence until Todoroki finally speaks.

"I know that you think I should talk about it." He doesn't look at Katsuki. He keeps his eyes on the pavement. "But it isn't easy."

He doesn't sound cold anymore. It's like his anger has let go of him, like it has turned into even more exhaustion. But even if he isn't angry anymore, Katsuki can't shake off the feeling that he has fucked up.

Katsuki considers it for a moment. "Even if, it's better to talk to your friends, or at least to people who won't judge you. Why do you need to listen to some extras and not people who actually know you?"

Todoroki hums at that. "Can we talk about something else?" he asks.

He sounds tired and uncomfortable. He sounds like he needs something to help him relax.

"Sure."

Todoroki has asked to talk about something else, but he doesn't say anything for a few moments. Katsuki doesn't mind the silence, but he doesn't know if Todoroki does.

And after a few minutes pass, Todoroki speaks again.

"Can I ask you about something?" he asks.

Katsuki raises a brow. "What?"

Todoroki looks at him for a moment. He seems—well, still tired, and sad, but he's been like this for some time already and Katsuki knows it won't go away so quickly—but his eyes hold some curiosity in them. Todoroki sometimes gets this look on his face before he says something that leaves Katsuki speechless. Something that no one else would even think to say. 

Part of Katsuki is glad to see that Todoroki is coming back to being himself. Another part of him braces himself for whatever shit he's about to hear.

"You called me by my name before. Why?"

Katsuki frowns, taken aback. "What?"

It's not the worst question he's heard, but it still surprised him.

"Yesterday, when you came to my room," Todoroki reminds him. "You used my given name."

Katsuki tries to remember what he told Todoroki the day before, but it's difficult. He mainly remembers being angry and frustrated and wanting to comfort Todoroki. "Maybe? I don't know. Why does it matter?"

It's possible that he did. He was shocked and worried. The name could have slipped at that time.

Katsuki honestly doesn't remember.

But Todoroki does.

Todoroki hums again. "Right. It probably doesn't."

He's doing it again. He doesn't let Katsuki know what he's thinking. He's avoiding things when he assumes others won't like what he's about to say.

For some reason, the attitude pisses Katsuki off.

"You mentioned it, so it probably does," he argues. "What, did it make you uncomfortable? If so, then I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

"No," Todoroki says. "It was nice."

Katsuki nods. Okay.

Todoroki frowns, as if in thought. “It made me feel better a little.”

“Do you want me to call you by your given name or what?” Katsuki asks, confused if Todoroki is talking about it just because, or if he’s actually trying to get to a point.

“If it doesn’t bother you,” Todoroki says.

“Okay,” Katsuki agrees. Here. It’s that simple. “You can call me by my given name, too.”

Shouto manages a small smile. It’s the first one since Sunday. The first one ever since he found out about his brother.

But it doesn’t reach his eyes.

The rest of the day is peaceful.

Katsuki would like to say that he and Shouto manage to finish their homework without any more distractions in the dorm, but then Hagakure asks if they're up to watching a film. Katsuki is ready to tell her off, but then Shouto suddenly says it's a good idea, much to everyone's surprise.

That's how they end up on the couch. Shouto is on the far end, Katsuki is sitting next to him. On his other side is Deku, who's animatedly explaining something about the latest hero ranking to Shinsou, who in turn looks like he understands maybe only half of what Deku is saying but nods along and lets the other boy talk. Kouda is sitting in front of them on the floor, and he looks like he's about to have a headache but doesn't know how to ask Deku to stop talking.

At one point, Tokoyami tells Deku to be quiet because the film is starting.

It's some thriller, but Katsuki doesn't pay much attention to it. He gets distracted about five minutes after it starts when Shouto freezes beside him.

Katsuki looks at him. Shouto's eyes have got an absent, faraway look in them.

He's not here. His thoughts are somewhere else.

Katsuki doesn't say anything, but he takes Shouto's hand in his. He squeezes it, rests his head against Shouto's shoulder, and focuses on the younger boy's breathing.

A few minutes later, Shouto squeezes his hand back.

When the film ends, Katsuki can't even tell what it was about, but he doesn't really care.

Friday is relatively calm, but it's not completely peaceful, because Katsuki hears two dickheads making some rude comments. He yells at them, which, okay, isn't the best way to deal with idiots, but at least Shouto hasn't heard what they said. He only heard some creative curses that Katsuki managed to come up with.

But other than that, nothing really happens. There are classes, and lunch, and Shouto is eating normally now. Then there's hero training, and everything is okay. Shouto doesn't break his nose again.

And—

Katsuki's days started to revolve around Shouto. And it's okay. He doesn't mind. He maybe even likes it.

In the evening Shouto says that he's going to bed early. Iida asks if he's feeling okay and Shouto nods, yes, he's just tired.

Katsuki goes to his room soon after that. It's almost his bedtime, anyways.

But he can't fall asleep.

He tries to sleep but can't. He keeps tossing in his bed, trying to find the most comfortable position to sleep, but he can't.

Katsuki doesn't even know if he's really tired. He hasn't really been sticking to his sleep schedule for the past two days, and he isn't complaining about it—Katsuki would stay up the night for Shouto if he needed that, anytime—but he simply wonders if those two days were enough to mess it up. Or maybe he's stressed. He doesn't feel stressed, but there are a lot of things that he could think about, so maybe that's it. He doesn't know.

After two hours, Katsuki gets up, leaves the room, and goes to the kitchen. Everyone is already in their rooms. Katsuki fell asleep all right last week after drinking that tea, so he thinks he will just drink it again. Maybe it will calm him down.

He makes the tea, goes back to his room, and drinks it.

Over thirty minutes minutes later, he's asleep.

And then he's woken up on Saturday at 5:43 when he receives a message. Seventeen minutes before his alarm.

Katsuki blinks sleepily as he checks his phone, and then frowns when he sees the message is from Shouto.

Halfie
Are you awake?

Shouto hardly ever messages him. And he never does so early in the morning.

Katsuki's got a bad feeling about it.

He responds with a simple yeah, what's wrong? and gets up from his bed. He grabs some T-shirt and sweatpants to change into. When he's done, he grabs his phone again. There was no sound from his phone, so Katsuki supposes Shouto hasn't responded to him yet, and it turns out he's right. Katsuki waits two minutes, and when there's still no response, he makes a call.

Shouto answers immediately. "Katsuki?"

"What's going on?" Katsuki asks.

It was good yesterday. Or maybe not really good, but it was still better than before.

"It's nothing serious," Shouto says, but Katsuki doesn't believe him. "I didn't want to worry you—"

"I already told you to drop that," Katsuki cuts him. "Are you okay?"

Katsuki is fully prepared to hear Shouto say yes, everything's fine, it's nothing, we can talk about it later. He's already thinking about all the ways he can respond and tell the idiot to stop thinking about that.

But then Shouto says, "No."

He sounds unsure. Not unsure if he really isn't okay. More like, unsure whether it is okay for him to admit that.

Katsuki, although surprised, doesn't lose time, "Should I go to your room?" he asks. "Or do you want to come here?"

"Can I come?" Shouto asks. "I'm sorry, it's just that— it's suffocating in here. I don't really—"

"Sure you can," Katsuki says, with a frown and also with some fondness in his voice. "I offered."

Shouto hangs up.

Katsuki takes the duvet and spreads it on his bed to make it more presentable. He takes his pyjamas, bundles it up and throws into the wardrobe.

A few seconds later, there is a soft knock against his door.

Shouto looks dishevelled. His hair is ruffled. He's changed from his pyjamas, too. His face is pale and he looks a little shaken, and Katsuki makes him sit down on his bed.

"I'm sorry," he apologises again, and Katsuki wants to tell him to knock it off, but Shouto doesn't let him. "I couldn't stand being there, and I didn't want to be alone, and I know it's early but you wake up early and I just thought that maybe if you were already up—"

"Hey, Shouto, it's okay," Katsuki says. "I was already up."

He's not going to tell him that Shouto woke him up. It would only make him feel guilty, and that's literally the last thing Katsuki wants right now.

"What's going on?" Katsuki asks.

Shouto looks sheepish. "It's stupid."

"I don't care," Katsuki presses. "What's wrong?"

"It was a nightmare."

That was one of Katsuki's guesses. Either a nightmare or a sleepless night that gave Shouto more than enough time to have some very stupid, very bad thoughts. Or another tragic news that he received—but, fuck, no. No more. Shouto needs a fucking break.

"Doesn't sound stupid to me," Katsuki says, sitting down beside Shouto.

Many of them have nightmares. Deku told him about his own, and they're very disturbing. He said that even if he sometimes dreams about One for All, he wakes up feeling anxious. Kirishima has told him about his own nightmares, too. Katsuki knows that they're not the only ones in the class, plenty of the other kids suffer from them.

Katsuki himself doesn't always sleep peacefully.

And he doesn't want to assume anything, but honestly, knowing Shouto, he's got a whole bunch of unsettling things that he could be anxious about at night.

"We've all been through shit. If fucking Deku came to you because of a nightmare, would you tell him that it's stupid?"

Shouto frowns, looking disturbed by the idea. "Of course not."

"It's the same here," Katsuki says. "So stop this, it's a perfectly normal thing to not be okay because of a nightmare. Unless there's something else?"

Shouto shrugs, but doesn't deny it. Katsuki supposes that there really could be something else going on, but he doesn't press.

"You want to tell me about the nightmare?"

"Not really," Shouto says. "But you said— if I wanted to talk, I could, right?"

"Yeah."

Shouto wets his lips. He kicks off the slippers and brings his legs close to his chest. He moves, until his back hits the wall. Katsuki sits cross-legged beside him, giving Shouto his full attention.

"It was about Touya," Shouto says. "And I don't want to talk about the nightmare, it was weird, but—" he pauses, swallows. Katsuki waits, obediently. "But I guess there are some things I want to tell someone."

"You can tell me," Katsuki says.

He wants Shouto to tell him. He wants Shouto to be comfortable with him, to let Katsuki help.

"The thing is—" Shouto frowns. "—I don't think I should."

Katsuki blinks, taken aback. "Why not?" he asks. "If you want to, you can. Don't bottle everything up."

"That's not—" Shouto stops. He leans his head back against the wall and sighs. "I don't think I should be talking about Touya to you."

This hurts.

It's sudden, and Katsuki doesn't understand it, and then he gets mad at himself. Shouto is struggling with everything that's going on around him, and it's Katsuki who feels hurt?

Fucking—

Pathetic. He feels fucking pathetic.

"Why not?" he asks, trying to get rid of these awful, ugly thoughts. "I told you I'm here for you."

"I know."

"I'm your fucking friend."

"I know," Shouto snaps. "That's why. Touya became a bad person. He hurt others, he killed people, and now people hate him. And he did other bad things, too, and he was even there when you—"

He stops again. Shouto doesn't allow himself to say what he wants to, or needs to, and Katsuki wants nothing more than to just destroy the walls that are limiting him. "He was there when I what?" he asks.

"When you were kidnapped," Shouto says. "Our first year. And— and you don't deserve to listen to me talk about him."

Oh. So that's what's been going on in Shouto's mind. He wasn't trying to keep things to himself because he thought that he just needed to do that, without a reason. It wasn't because of insecurity, or inability to determine what he is and isn't allowed to do or say because of lack of communication skills.

This whole time, Shouto has been trying to watch out for Katsuki. Because he thought that by helping Shouto, it's Katsuki who would end up feeling hurt.

The realisation hits Katsuki like a brick.

"Shouto," he says, feeling sick. "That's what it's been all about?"

"It's important," Shouto says, defensively.

"And I literally don't care about it," Katsuki says. "He was there, so what? You literally had to fight him and then you wanted to bond with him, and that's okay. You're allowed to mourn him."

Shouto blinks, bites down on his bottom lip. "People don't want to listen about him. They don't even want to remember he existed."

Katsuki is taken aback by the sudden force of the words.

There's some wetness in Shouto's voice.

"Are you worrying that I wouldn't want to listen to you talk about your brother when you miss him?" Katsuki asks in disbelief. "You idiot."

And somehow, somehow, that's what makes this barrier that has been keeping Shouto trapped let go.

The words start to flow on their own. Shouto loses all control over them.

"He was just— he was doing better," Shouto says. His voice becomes softer. His breathing quickens. "The doctor told us he wouldn't live long, but I thought we had more time. He opened up, and started talking about himself more, about the things he liked, and recently he started— he just started talking more, and Natsu even told him about his fiancée."

Katsuki hesitates only for a short moment before he puts his hand on Shouto's shoulder. He grips it, wants Shouto to feel his presence, to know that it's okay to say all those things.

"Earlier, he would try to insult us, to make us stop visiting him, but then he stopped, and— and he wanted to know more, he wanted us to tell him everything. He asked about things, like Fuyumi's new job, and he— he even asked me about school—"

Katsuki lets out a shaky breath.

Shouto is trembling beneath his hand, his eyes are glistening with tears, his face is red, and Katsuki's heart shatters.

"He called me his little brother," Shouto whispers. "Katsuki, he was my brother."

Katsuki grabs Shouto's shoulders and slowly guides him forward as Shouto crumbles under the weight of the world. Katsuki holds him close as Shouto finally lets himself cry. He isn't sobbing. Shouto is silent in his despair as he clings to Katsuki, his fists clenched in Katsuki's shirt, his face pressed against Katsuki's neck.

Katsuki keeps his hand on Shouto's head. It feels heartless to say nothing, to offer no comfort with his words, but Katsuki doesn't know what words would be enough right now, so he just says, "Let it out, Shouto."

Shouto is a shivering mess of gasps in his arms. His hiccups are silenced in Katsuki's neck.

Katsuki never lets go.

"Just let it out."

"I know he was bad, but I just want him back."

"I know," Katsuki whispers in Shouto's ear, tightening his embrace. "I know, it's okay. It's okay."

He just wants Shouto to be okay.

Katsuki holds him the whole time, relieved that finally Shouto feels safe enough to break down and seek comfort, and at the same time absolutely heartbroken that Shouto needs to do this in the first place. But he's here. He listens. But it's not enough. It could never be enough, because Shouto deserves so much more. He deserves a world that's free of pain.

Shouto's hair is soft as Katsuki buries his nose in it and exhales slowly. Katsuki can't guarantee him a world free of pain, but he can try to make this one a little better for him. A little more bearable.

They stay like this for a long time. Katsuki offers Shouto the comfort of his arms. He waits until Shouto stops trembling. His breathing gets calmer. His fists relax.

Shouto's body is spent, completely exhausted in the early morning. He stays slumped against Katsuki's chest and allows Katsuki to move him, manoeuvre his body until he's lying on his right side on Katsuki's bed. Katsuki brushes the hair from Shouto's forehead and lets his hand drag down the side of Shouto's face—his fingers touch the scar, and Shouto blinks his eyes slowly—and then Katsuki cups Shouto's cheek.

"Wait a bit," Katsuki whispers, looking in Shouto's puffy, red-rimmed eyes.

Shouto doesn't make any sound. He only nods minutely in silent agreement.

Katsuki gets up. He walks up to his wardrobe and takes out a warm blanket. His mother has prepared it for him when he was moving to the dorms, saying that someone needs to make sure he won't freeze when it gets cold in winter. Katsuki doesn't really use it, but he thinks Shouto may like it.

Katsuki returns to the bed and spreads the blanket, covering Shouto. Then slips under it as well. His hands find Shouto's arms and coax him to lean forward as he lies on his back, and Shouto obeys.

"What is it for?" Shouto asks, confused. His voice is hoarse. His nose is runny. He sniffles.

"For comfort." It sounds stupid. Childish. But Katsuki hasn't got a better answer. "Are you sleepy?"

Shouto furrows his brows. "I don't know."

"It's still early," Katsuki says. "Sleep if you want to. We can stay like this."

Shouto shifts a little closer, puts his head on Katsuki's chest. Katsuki's hands find their way to Shouto's hair again.

"Is it okay?" Shouto asks quietly.

"I'm comfortable," Katsuki says. "You?"

Shouto lets out a quiet hum.

Katsuki runs his hand through Shouto's strands in slow, regular motions. He hopes it's enough to help Shouto relax. Shouto has woken up from a nightmare. It would do him some good to sleep a little more.

He doesn't know how much time passes before Shouto lets out a first quiet snore. Katsuki stops petting his hair, but he doesn't remove his hand. He just lets it stay there, on Shouto's head. It's a small gesture, an attempt at comfort, both for Shouto and for Katsuki.

Shouto isn't fine. But he will be. Katsuki needs to make sure he will be.

An hour passes by. Shouto wakes up and he's all groggy, barely able to do anything, except to lean searching for more of Katsuki's warmth. Katsuki asks him if he's hungry, and Shouto can only reply in hums. Katsuki can't tell if it's a yes or a no.

It's past eight in the morning. They will need to eat something eventually, but if Shouto is still tired, it's still early. He can rest some more.

Katsuki waits a few minutes to check what Shouto will do.

What Shouto does: he sighs deeply, hides his face in his hands, and stays still. Katsuki can't tell if he's trying to get more sleep or if he just wants to stay in bed, but whatever it is, Katsuki's already made up his mind at this point.

"Hey," Katsuki whispers. "We should eat something. Do you feel like getting up, or do you want to stay here?"

He waits a full minute for Shouto to answer, and when he doesn't, Katsuki pats his head.

"All right," he says. "Wait here while I get us something to eat?"

Shouto removes his hands and looks at Katsuki. Small creases appear on his forehead. Katsuki raises his eyebrows in question, waiting for Shouto to say what's on his mind.

When there's nothing, Katsuki sits up.

"Go back to sleep," he says. "I'll be right back, just need to make sure we don't starve."

Shouto glances up at Katsuki again, looks like there is something he needs to communicate, but still no words leave his mouth. Katsuki doesn't want to press, but he also doesn't know what's going on if Shouto doesn't use his words.

"You can come with me if you want to," Katsuki says. "But if you're tired and want to sleep, you can stay here."

"I'll stay," Shouto says finally, his voice is still hoarse.

"Great," Katsuki says. "Be right back."

He leaves the room and goes to the kitchen. No one is up yet, which is good, because honestly Katsuki hasn't got the strength and patience to deal with anyone but Shouto right now. There are only some specific things going on in his mind, and Katsuki doesn't think he can deal with any distraction right now.

When Katsuki comes back to the room with two plates of food in his hands, Shouto is sitting on the bed. He looks completely lost, all awkward and unsure.

Katsuki closes the door to his room with an elbow and then gives Shouto one of the plates. "Here," he says. "Eat up."

He hates eating in the room. There are tables in the common room for a reason. He hates eating in the bed even more.

But right now, he doesn't give a single fuck about that.

"Thank you," Shouto says as he receives the plate. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be lazy."

"You're not being lazy," Katsuki says. "You must be tired. Just rest when you need to."

"The more I do, the more tired I feel," Shouto says. "And lazy."

Katsuki raises his eyebrows. That's bullshit, he thinks, but he doesn't say anything in response to that, because he doesn't know what. Instead he says, "Start eating. You can't feel better if you don't eat anything."

Shouto listens.

They eat the breakfast and leave the plates on Katsuki's desk. They can wash the dishes later. Maybe in the evening. Or after their lunch, if Katsuki feels like making one. They could order something, too.

Shouto doesn't say it, but Katsuki can see that he really doesn't feel like getting up and doing anything, so he suggests watching something on his laptop. Shouto easily agrees.

They end up watching some anime, and it's not the most entertaining shit Katsuki's ever seen but it's decent enough. They keep playing the next episodes, and the hours pass, and Shouto's presence feels nice and warm and safe beside Katsuki, and it's good. This is good. Shouto doesn't get lost in his thoughts much. Only sometimes he needs to ask about something that was already said, but Katsuki doesn't call him out for getting distracted, just explains patiently the plot whenever he needs to.

This is good.

Katsuki's phone rings sometimes with some messages, but he ignores it.

At one point, when Katsuki receives another message, Shouto frowns. "I forgot my phone in my room."

Katsuki pauses the anime. "You want to go fetch it?"

"No." Shouto relaxes against Katsuki's shoulder. "I don't need it. Just remembered suddenly."

Normally, Katsuki would tell him don't say shit if it's not important. Now, he only nods. "Okay." And they're back to watching.

It's very late, way too late to be thinking about lunch now, when they finally stop watching to get something to eat. This time, Shouto wordlessly gets up from the bed, together with Katsuki.

Katsuki doesn't say anything.

They go down the stairs in silence. Shouto looks like there's nothing and everything going on in his head at the same time. Katsuki tries not to think about anything at all.

They reach the common room, and now it's lively, a stark contrast to how it was in the morning, the majority of class 3-A is here, if not all of them—

—and suddenly Katsuki stumbles, almost misses the last step, when he sees the mess that is the common room.

A whole, giant mess of paper and plastic and boxes.

The students seem to be extremely busy with something. There's chatter. There's laughter. There's a sweet scent in the air, and Katsuki thinks that must be Satou's doing. Upon closer inspection, Katsuki recognises some decorations, and—

Are these fucking balloons? Not used, waiting to be inflated, but still.

What the fuck.

"Kacchan!" Deku exclaims from the other side of the room, because of course it's Deku who notices him first. "Happy birthday!"

Everyone repeats after him. Like idiots.

"What the fuck is this?" Katsuki asks, horrified.

He only wanted to make some lunch. Instead he entered a warzone.

So much mess. So much attention.

He needs to know whose idea it was.

"Since it's Saturday and we don't have classes, and you didn't get up as early as you usually do, we thought we could start preparing your birthday party a little earlier," Kirishima explains enthusiastically. His hands are one big mess of glue and... something else that Katsuki doesn't recognise and doesn't even want to. "The party's still going to be in the evening."

"You guys are a bunch of morons," Katsuki says, and he's the only one who still pretends his words are laced with venom instead of fondness. "No, not a bunch. A whole fucking circus."

"Aww, thanks, man," Kirishima coos.

Katsuki rolls his eyes in annoyance and looks at Shouto, because what the actual fuck is this. He needs some support. He needs someone he can ask do you fucking see this, someone who will respond yes, and you're right, they're unbelievable, except—

Except Shouto looks completely, absolutely crestfallen.

All the annoyance vanishes at once, replaced instantly with worry.

"Shouto?" he asks, his hand itching to hold Shouto's hand. To hold him close like he did just ten minutes ago.

"Katsuki," Shouto whispers, pale, eyes wide with... something. "I'm so sorry."

Something is wrong. Something is wrong and Katsuki knows Shouto. He knows that whatever it is, Shouto wouldn't want an audience. Whatever is wrong right now, Shouto wouldn't want to be vulnerable in front of other people. And even though it would be okay to be vulnerable in front of class 3-A because these are his friends, Shouto's got the right to privacy.

So Katsuki only looks quickly at the class, tries to act normally as he barks out, "Idiots!" and grabs Shouto's wrist to lead him up the stairs again.

They only go to the second floor, only enough to have some privacy, before Katsuki lets go of Shouto's wrist.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, I— Your birthday—"

Katsuki frowns as even more concern and confusion wash over him. "What?"

"I forgot," Shouto says. "It's— you've been doing so much for me. And I forgot. It's today and I just—"

"Hey," Katsuki says as his anxiety leaves him slowly, in waves, giving in to relief. Nothing bad is happening. Nothing is wrong. Except that Shouto feels guilty for something that he can't even be blamed for, because Katsuki would never expect him to remember his birthday when Shouto is busy trying to function normally while in grief. "It's okay. I don't care, it's just a date."

"But I know when your birthday is. I just— I didn't think. I didn't remember that today is the day."

"I don't care," Katsuki repeats, firmly. "It's okay. Don't worry."

"We have wasted half of the day," Shouto says in a very specific tone, as if it's the greatest tragedy to have ever happened in the history of modern Japan.

It doesn't feel like Katsuki has wasted the day. He liked it. He actually did.

"What do you want to do?" Shouto asks.

Katsuki raises his brows. "What— I don't know?"

"I can fix it," Shouto says earnestly. "What do you want?"

Katsuki lets out a quiet sigh. Shouto looks at him expectantly. He wants to make it up to Katsuki. He doesn't understand that there is nothing to make up for.

Katsuki thinks he knows what to do.

"What I want," he says, "is to go back to my room, to my bed, so we can finish the goddamn series. And order something to eat because the fucking kitchen is off-limits now, apparently."

Shouto doesn't look like that's the answer he expected, but he doesn't oppose.

They do end up ordering something and finish the anime.

A few hours later there's a knock against Katsuki's door and Katsuki opens it to see Kaminari and Ashido, very excited and very loud, announcing that it's time for the party.

Katsuki is hauled to the common room and Shouto follows them. It's bright. It's loud.

It's nice, and it's even nicer when Shouto finally stops worrying about having forgotten Katsuki's birthday and allows himself to get distracted from his problems.

And he still stays close to Katsuki, and Katsuki really fucking likes it.

Sunday is good. It's nice and lazy and nothing happens.

Or, almost nothing does.

Once, when they're in the common room and Hagakure keeps switching channels on the TV to find something to watch, she ends up turning on the news channel. It's only for a short moment, but it's enough to hear Endeavour and scandal and praise for a villain that deserves condemnation.

The channel is changed quickly, but the room goes silent as everyone looks at Shouto, who in turn doesn't look bothered. He keeps staring at his phone, like he's been doing for the past five minutes, as if he hasn't noticed anything.

He has. Katsuki's sure. But he doesn't say anything.

Fifteen minutes later they start bickering, and Shouto acts normal.

Everyone can breathe a little easier.

The funeral is on Monday, 22^nd April. Everyone knows that Shouto won't be present at school on that day.

It's supposed to be a small ceremony, only for the closest family: Touya's parents and siblings. Everything is arranged. Natsuo's got a car, so he will come to UA to get Shouto and they will go to the venue together. Later, he will also drive Shouto back to the dorm.

It's better like this. It's for safety, and to let the family say their final goodbye to Touya in peace.

Katsuki knows it, but he can't stop wondering if Shouto is comfortable like this. There's a part in him that tells Katsuki he wouldn't be worried about it as much if Todoroki Enji wasn't present during the service. Katsuki really can't make himself not blame the guy for everything that's happened.

But Katsuki tries not to think about it too much. Everything will be all right. Shouto will need some space when he's back probably, but everything will be all right. He's got his family with him. A family that's broken, but one that really tries to make things better. They all care about Shouto. He will be all right.

It is not all right, Katsuki finds out, when Deku pats his arm to get Katsuki's attention before their third period.

"I'm worried about Todoroki," Deku says.

It shouldn't be strange. Everyone is worried about Shouto ever since the news dropped. Everyone is worried about him especially today, since they know he will be mentally and emotionally drained. It shouldn't be strange that Deku admits it, because Deku isn't one to hide how he's feeling.

Except it is very strange.

Deku hasn't told Katsuki explicitly that he's worried about Shouto ever since they all heard about Touya's death. So there must be a reason why he's doing it now.

That's when Deku shows Katsuki his phone and all colour drains from Katsuki's face.

There's a protest. There's a huge protest with hundreds—if not thousands—of people in front of the venue. There are photos. There are videos. The sound is off, so Katsuki can't hear what the people are screaming, but he can see the banners.

STOP GLORIFYING VILLAINS

YOU'RE PRAISING A MASS MURDERER

BAN QUIRK MARRIAGES

People found out.

The information about the funeral wasn't released to the public for this exact reason. But people still found out.

"Fuck," Katsuki says, swiping at the screen. There are comments, too. Horrifying. Nauseating.

Comments that are as bad as the ones that Shouto was reading last week. Comments that made Katsuki angry at Shouto for even looking at them. He was so stupid back then. He should have been only angry at the people who wrote those kinds of words.

And, oh god. Is that a death wish—

Katsuki's stomach churns. He feels sick.

Shouto has seen this kind of words directed at him online. Who knows. Maybe he's hearing them right now, this very moment.

"I think we should tell Aizawa," Deku says. Katsuki takes a deep breath. "We can't do anything about those people, but he should know what's going on with Todoroki."

"Yeah," Katsuki says.

They do. They find Aizawa and show him the posts and comments on social media. When they do, they see even worse photos, not only of the protestants and their banners, but even of the Todoroki family, faces down, not wanting to be caught in the cameras.

Aizawa doesn't look surprised. He doesn't mention anything, and it's hard to say whether he saw the protest already, or if he suspected it may come to this. But he nods, thanks them for showing him, promises that he will do something. What, they don't know, but they don't ask. They don't know what the school can do. They don't want to ask, because they don't want to be disappointed.

Katsuki and Deku go back to the classroom in silence, heads filled with thoughts about Shouto.

When all the classes end and the students go back to the dorm, Katsuki first goes to the fifth floor. He knocks against Shouto's door, but no one answers. He then texts Shouto and asks if he's back. He doesn't know when Shouto was supposed to be back.

Shouto doesn't answer him, but he's back about one hour later.

He looks terrible.

Shouto's face is grey. His eyes that have started to get back the spark are empty and dull. He's quiet when he opens the door to the dorm, as if he doesn't want to be noticed. As if he wants to disappear.

But of course everyone notices him. Everyone was waiting for him.

People are around him in an instant, and Shouto looks panicked, and Katsuki feels lost as he watches everything unfold, helplessly.

Then Deku is there. He comes to Shouto, takes his hand, and tugs him away. That's when Katsuki finally finds his voice.

"Fuck off, everyone," he says, angrier and more forcefully than he's sounded in months, but he doesn't care. They don't get to do that to Shouto. "Let him fucking breathe."

Deku is already leading Shouto away, and Katsuki soon joins them, because of course he's going to be there to support Shouto—

But then Shouto steps away, his hands raised in front of him.

"Leave me alone," he says quietly. "I— please. I need to be alone."

Deku's expression softens.

Katsuki stares at Shouto. Of course, Shouto's got every right to want to be alone. Katsuki knows that. He understands that. But he needs to do something. He can't just stay away and offer no help, no comfort.

"Of course," Deku says, even before Katsuki can think about any response. "Tell us if you need anything?"

Shouto nods and then goes, nearly runs up the stairs. He disappears after the first flight.

And Katsuki is still standing there, not knowing what to do. For the past week he's been there for Shouto. He doesn't know what to do when Shouto doesn't want him there anymore.

"Kacchan," Deku says, pointedly. "Are you coming?"

"Is this okay?" Katsuki asks.

It doesn't seem okay. Not doing anything for Shouto is not okay.

Deku seems to know what kind of thoughts are going through his head right now.

"He knows that we're here for him," Deku says. "Let him process. Aizawa knows about everything, he's going to deal with it."

Katsuki can't argue with that.

With a heavy, breaking heart, he walks away from the stairs.

It's a few hours later when Katsuki receives a message. He's reluctant to get his phone, because whatever it is, it's probably not important, but Katsuki lifts the device and unlocks it.

It is important. It's from Shouto.

Halfie
I'm sorry
I really needed to be alone for some time

Katsuki sits down on his bed, already replying.

Don't be sorry idiot
Do you want to talk? Or do you still want to be alone?

Halfie
I don't know
But I don't want you to be mad at me

I'm not mad

Halfie
Thank you
I mean thank you for everything that you've done
It means a lot
I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful
I really appreciate it

I know, don't worry about it
Do you need anything?

Halfie
No
I think I will go to sleep soon
I'm tired

Then sleep
But text me if anything changes
Okay?

Halfie
I will
Aizawa talked to me
He said you'd seen what happened today

I did
How are you feeling?

Halfie
I don't know
Like it's all too much
And I'm too exhausted to do anything about it

You don't need to do anything about it on your own

Halfie
You told me
I just want everything to be normal again
I want to worry about school and training and not this
I want to worry about missing classes today and falling behind again

I get it
But you don't need to worry about falling behind
I will help you

Halfie
Are you free tomorrow?
We could go to the library again

Sure, we will

Shouto stops replying.

Katsuki doesn't put down his phone for a few more minutes, in case Shouto will text him again. However, there's no new message, and Katsuki goes back to getting ready to bed.

But then, ten minutes later, his phone rings, and Katsuki answers immediately when he sees the caller ID.

"Shouto?" he asks, a little breathlessly.

"Sorry for calling," Shouto says. His voice is raw. He sounds small. "Did I wake you up?"

"You didn't. What's going on?"

Katsuki is used to Shouto making small pauses, to gathering courage to express his needs and wishes, but this time Shouto says almost immediately, "I don't think I want to be alone now." The words have a weird sound to them, one that Katsuki has learnt to interpret as concern. "I know it's late, but— Can I sleep at your room today?"

There's something building up in Katsuki's chest. Something that finally doesn't feel uncomfortable. Doesn't make Katsuki want to scream or blow up anything.

It's something good. Something tender.

"Yeah," he says, relieved. "Come here, Halfie."

Shouto hangs up.

Half a minute later he's outside Katsuki's room, knocking on his door. When Katsuki opens it, he sees Shouto with his pillow under his arm.

"I didn't bring my duvet," Shouto says when he's inside. "Your blanket was warm. Can I use it?"

He's saying what he wants. He's letting Katsuki know what he wants. He's asking for things. It's not a demand, Katsuki knows that if he tells Shouto no then Shouto won't be mad. But the thing is, Katsuki doesn't want to tell him no. He wants to give Shouto whatever he can.

"Sure you can."

A few minutes later they're in bed. It's only a little narrow for the two of them. Katsuki doesn't mind. The bedside lamp is still on, but Katsuki will turn it off in a few minutes.

Shouto still looks pale and tired, but he also looks a little better than before. His eyes are a little puffy, but they're not red, and Katsuki wonders if he's cried again or not. He thinks it would be good if Shouto did. He doesn't want Shouto to bottle up his emotions. But he doesn't ask about it.

"Is it okay?" Katsuki asks.

Shouto hums. "I'm comfortable," he says, with the same words that Katsuki used two days earlier.

He looks up at Katsuki and smiles. It's his second smile in the past few days.

It's another one that doesn't reach his eyes.

But maybe, if Shouto finds enough reasons to smile, one of them will finally reach his eyes, too.