numbertwohero | @microwaveable

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@microwaveable

His mother has good days and bad days.

On the good days, she's sweet and kind. She greets him with a hand on his cheek and a smile, she asks him how his classes are going, she remembers the friends he mentions and teases him about being popular with the girls. They go for long walks in the facility grounds and she tells him about the plants she's growing in the little space they've let her have, and he ends the visit with a hug, her thin, fragile form in his careful arms, and he wonders at how much smaller than him she is already. On the good days, he leaves with hope and renewed determination to become the best he can be, to show his father that number two isn't just second place and it's a place and a life to be proud of.

This was not a good day.

This was the kind of day where he opened her door and she looked at him for that first second with fear and hatred and sorrow, where her eyes lingered on his left side too long, no matter how much he tried to keep her on his right. This was the kind of day where every response was distracted and her voice too high-pitched and her laughter sharp and strained. This was the day that, when he reached out to stop her from walking in front of a speeding golf cart full of groundskeepers, she flinched from his touch and slapped him across the face.

She'd apologized, horror on her face and heartbreak in her voice, and he'd said it was fine, and he loved her, but he left soon after, hurrying back towards the school dorms where he could just...shut himself away. It was still early on Sunday. Everyone would still be out, or training, and he could have time to put himself back together. His right cheek is still burning from her slap, stinging and red and almost bruised, and it aches with a pain sharper and more real than the phantom ache of his scarred left side. It's a strange feeling. Normally that side doesn't feel hot. Everything is backwards. Everything is backwards, and his chest is tight, and he can feel the tears trying to burn at his eyes, but it's fine, he's almost there--

--and then he rounds the corner of the stairs heading up towards the fourth floor, and almost runs straight into Midoriya, coming down. Todoroki's eyes are wide, almost glassy, and his heart is racing, and it's only a second before he looks away, not quite flinching but all but vibrating with tension.

"...Sorry. I didn't see you there."

His voice is rough, strained, just as tight as his shoulders, and he waits for Midoriya to keep on going, to be tactful or distracted or whatever it is he needs to be, so he can finally make it up that last flight to his own floor and the safety of his room.

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Izuku's reaction, like many of Izuku's reactions, is much more extreme than he'd expected, especially for sharing such a small thing. Shouto's almost overwhelmed, especially when he starts talking about going to get his own books to loan to Todoroki, and pulls Todoroki's hands close to his chest. He does his best to focus on the words, but it's not exactly easy, is it? Izuku is so full of energy.

But honestly, that's the best thing for him right now. He can't think too hard about this morning, doesn't have any time to dwell on what happened, because there's Izuku bounding off the bed suddenly, dropping his hands, and there's Izuku chattering about more things he likes, things that Shouto files away immediately, facts to be preserved and remembered and used later on to remind Izuku that people listened to him and liked what he had to say. Although it's not really surprising in his case, is it? Of course Izuku likes the hero stories. He's a hero. He's always been meant to be a hero.

Shouto's distracted enough that he almost doesn't catch the tossed tea, but his body's reflexes work whether or not he's paying attention, and he manages to catch it with a minimum of fumbling. Izuku climbs back on the bed again, and Shouto isn't expecting him to take his hand again, but there he is, doing just that. At this point, it's happened so many times already today he's just...gonna assume it's the Thing To Do and roll with it. It's fine. He's sitting on a bed with his best friend holding hands. This is fine.

"Disney? I've seen a couple of their movies, when I was a kid. Sleeping Beauty. The Little Mermaid. I think that's it, though," he answers after a moment. "If you want to watch one of those, it's fine. I don't mind animated." Honestly, at this point something lighthearted and easy sounds pretty peaceful. He's still thinking as he runs his thumb over the side of Izuku's, a distracted, subconscious gesture. He might not be as full of energy as the other young man, but he's not always a rock, either, and he's still got some nervous energy to burn.

"Pre-Quirk fantasy is pretty interesting. I like seeing the way people used to look at the world, and imagining how people from modern times would have fit into a world like that. I wouldn't mind borrowing any books, if you want to share them. I'd like to know more about the things you like."

What? It's true.

His eyes wrinkle in how hard he smiles, because there's something so endearing about envisioning a younger Todoroki watching Sleeping Beauty and The Little Mermaid. He raises his index finger off his bottle of Pocari in a point, closing his eyes.

"The Little Mermaid is very loosely based off an old story that isn't nearly as kid-friendly as the Disney movie, you know--" He was cut off with a startled squeak from his nerdy tirade about the original Danish story by Shouto's nervous rubbing of his thumb, and glances down to stare at their hands for a moment. "...ah, is it okay that I still have your hand? I guess you can't open your tea that way, can you." He feels very silly, suddenly, but-- ...Well, Shouto goes on to say he'd like to know more about the things he likes, and he just lapses into an embarrassed silence, smiling at their hands and the bright sheets between their ankles, his ears going red.

"I know, it's one of my favorites. Hans Christian Andersen--"

For once, Shouto also looks almost animated, some life coming into his features. He likes the old story, appreciates even that it doesn't have the same happy ending, because even though he'd liked the movie as a kid, it always seemed so clear that not everything should work out so easily. It was frustrating. Unrealistic, leaving out all the other theoretically realistic parts with mermaids and Jamaican crabs. In fact, he's never really gotten a chance to talk about this kind of thing with someone who both knows the story and also doesn't think he's weird for being interested in things like that, so he's kind of disappointed when Izuku abruptly stops and turns bright read again, looking down.

When he asks that question, it's Shouto's turn to look down, almost belatedly realizing what Izuku's talking about. Their hands, together on the bed, and he realizes he's basically been playing with Izuku's thumb for a few seconds now, his own stopping mid stroke as he finally processes.

"....I don't really mind," he says finally, after a moment of silence, and he's very carefully looking between his own feet when he speaks, his heart suddenly pounding very loud in his own ears. What's with that? Delayed stress response? "If you want, you can. But--you're right, it does make it kind of hard for us to open the drinks..." A quandary, then. Because it's kind of nice, but also now that Izuku's drawn attention to it, Shouto's gonna be wondering if it's even okay, or if Izuku's just...being nice, since he was a mess earlier.

Hans Christian Andersen. He even knew the author by name, well enough to conjure it without missing a beat. Everything sort of hit him all at once, then, and suddenly Midoriya Izuku was painfully aware of how much he didn't want to stop holding Todoroki Shouto's hand. There was some kind of meaning behind that, he was sure, because last time he checked it wasn't something you just did with a friend, no matter if they were your best friend or otherwise, and he bit his lip to keep from muttering.

"I don't mind either," he said, quietly but quickly, and he looks up from under his wild mop of hair with an expression best described as sheepish. "...but maybe we should open our drinks, and... then," Keep holding hands, was the unspoken part of that, but it seemed to finally dawn on him with nearly putting it into words that they were holding hands. Like that specific phrase was what made it click. Did Shouto think it was weird? Was he just doing it because he'd persisted? Use your words, boys.

And then, Izuku says, and he doesn't have to say the rest because Shouto understands. And somehow, that 'and then' feels more...more. Because the first time, it had been an impulse born out of not wanting to watch his friend trip and fall, and the second had been Izuku trying to get him to follow him, and the third had been entirely unconscious. But this--this was a deliberate thing. This was both of them consciously choosing to do this, and it felt...

Even Shouto knows it's not the kind of thing people usually do. Some of the girls are super casual about physical contact, and they'll hold hands or drape an arm over one another. And some of the guys will do the latter, but this is still different, isn't it? They aren't going anywhere. They're just sitting on Izuku's bed, together, alone, holding hands.

"...That sounds like a good idea." Opening drinks, and putting on a movie, and then...and then. In fact, he slowly lets go of Izuku's hand, shifting a little on the bed to get comfortable, before opening his bottle and taking a long drink before he finally lowers it--and lets his other hand rest between them for when Izuku's ready. If he wants.

He isn't sure what exactly they're doing, but he doesn't really want to stop, either.

Izuku has never really taken the time to consider his preferences in other people. He was sixteen, and completely and utterly entirely too busy to even be thinking about dating or being close enough to count just how many of Shouto's right eyelashes were actually white. His heart had crawled its way into his esophagus, and it was uncomfortable, but it stayed lodged there while Shouto disentangled their hands and opened his bottle, and his throat closed off completely for a moment while he watched with entirely not friendly fascination as his friend's throat bobbed neatly while he took a long drink.

He was... really gonna need to think about this in one of his notebooks, later. And maybe with a hand down his boxers-- no, holy shit, that was absolutely not where he was trying to go with this, they were just friends, his hand was going nowhere near his boxers with Todoroki Shouto in his mind's eye. His ears burned an almost painful-looking shade of scarlet, and he averted his eyes maybe too quickly as Shouto tilted the bottle back forward, opening his Pocari and taking a swig akin to how someone may take a shot. He was suddenly very warm, and it wasn't a bad feeling, but he felt a little like he was taking advantage of Todoroki, maybe?

He tunes back in after a moment, realizing that Shouto had spoken to him, just before, and turns a dazed look back to his face, then to his hand resting innocuously between them. He chews a bit of chap off his lower lip, squirming and cracking his toes against the mattress, shifting slowly to sidle up to him and tentatively lay his hand in Shouto's palm.

"...um. Little Mermaid?"

Is it really taking advantage if the other person finds themselves not actually minding? Because honestly, all of this...it's nice. It feels good. And while he'll definitely spend a lot of time thinking about it later, remembering how Izuku's hand felt in his, the warmth of him against the side of his body, each and every freckle scattered across his face, the way his eyes lit up and sparkled like glass in his excitement--

Okay, the point is that he's really actually liking this, and it means he's not thinking about his terrible morning and is instead just struggling a little to keep his heart from beating out of his chest when Izuku looks at him with that expression, and struggling a little more when he lays his hand in Shouto's. The end result of all of this is Shouto also looking down at their hands, silent, and then slowly--giving Izuku time to escape, if he wants, to take his hand back and change his mind--slowly lacing their fingers together.

He's never really thought about liking anyone, before. Sure, maybe the idle thought has occasionally crossed his mind that this feature or that of a classmate is attractive, but he's never really thought about this kind of thing. Someone making your heart pound, someone making you so distracted, you literally miss everything they just said.

Like now.

"Hm?"

Sorry, Izuku, he's lost the entire train of thought. But hey, at least he's a bundle of nerves for a different reason, now.

He watches their hands, watches as Shouto curls their fingers together in slow motion. The wheels in his head can practically be heard turning and seen steaming as they overwork themselves, but he is surprisingly silent where he would normally be muttering fervently. He licks his lips, purses them and then swallows, glancing from Shouto's face to their hands again. Seeming to settle on something, he curls his fingers back against Shouto's in return, and then tentatively rubs his thumb against the other boy's. It's the same gesture he'd done before, curiously returned.

"...Little Mermaid, I said. Do you wanna just watch something we've both seen, so we don't have to pay attention?" Because they could pay attention to each other, instead, obviously.

It's a nice feeling, that thumb stroking his. Izuku holding his hand, their fingers slotted together like this...it feels right. Just right. So right he almost has to ask the other boy to repeat what he'd said again, which would have been embarrassing, even for him.

"That's fine." Something they've both seen before, so they don't have to pay attention. That sounds perfect, actually, because he's apparently finding it very hard to focus on anything that isn't one green-haired, blushing young man. "I wouldn't mind watching it again. I haven't seen it in years." And maybe after, they could talk about the differences between the Disney version and the original story, and what it all meant, and their favorites...maybe this isn't the way he'd originally planned to spend his Sunday, but it's a very good way, anyway.

"I usually watch it with my mom about once a year," he says easily, and then looks embarrassed by the admission. One, because he was sixteen and still absolutely had movie nights with his mother (complete with blanket forts, popcorn, and whole boxes of tissues being used because they both cried over everything), and two, because this whole thing had started because Shouto had had a rough morning with his mother in the hospital. Stupid, Izuku, stupid!

"B-but!! It'll be really great to watch it with a friend, 'cause, uh. You know, friends watch movies and stuff!" Please help this awkward moron.

It's okay, Izuku, really. While Shouto might feel a little pang in his chest at the mention of Izuku having movie nights with his mom, he doesn't resent his friend in the slightest. How could he? Izuku is just so good, so compassionate, so...so everything. He'd never say it maliciously.

"It's okay," he says when Izuku finally breaks to fumble for more words, squeezing his hand lightly for good measure. "Really. It's nice that you and your mom are so close." It's really, really good to hear about someone who so clearly didn't have the childhood he did, at least in that regard. Taking a deep breath, he pushes on. If anyone's not going to judge him for the rest...

"My mom and I used to have days like that. When we weren't training, if Endeavor had to make a public appearance we didn't have to be at. They were--really nice. Maybe someday we can have them again." He doesn't feel weird, sharing hopes like that with Izuku. For some reason, he feels like maybe if he hears them, they'll come true. And in the meantime...

"I've never really had friends to watch movies with. You're kind of my first." My first a lot of things, he thinks, and immediately thinks maybe there's a couple of other firsts he'd like to add to that list--but that's not the kind of thing he's supposed to think, or to say, so he'll just...keep that thought for later, and instead offer a very, very small smile to Izuku, his head tilting slightly to one side, bangs sliding across his face.

His mouth quirks into a wobbly half-frown and he huffs out a breath through his nose, because he doesn't feel like it's okay-- even if he knows Shouto's words come from a good place, that he truly does think it's nice he and his mom are so close, he just wants to gather his friend up and give him all the love and affection his own mother has provided him since he was too small to turn on the TV himself. His fingers curl in return to the squeeze from Shouto, his thumb hooking around the other boy's.

"You will," he says without hesitation, his jaw set and his eyes fierce as they tended to be when he was truly convicted about something. It sort of crumbles a moment later when Shouto tells him he's his first, because on one hand that's the sweetest thing he's ever heard, and he's never wanted so badly to not have something in common with another person, because Shouto Todoroki deserved the world and all of the friends in it, and on the other hand he's reminded violently of the fact that just minutes ago he was talking himself out of a hand down his pants at a later time in regard of him. Holy bisexual disasters, Batman. His ears turn pink.

"I mean, you're kinda mine, too," he admits instead of getting too carried away in his thoughts, mirroring Shouto's earlier squeeze of his hand. "Iida and Uraraka, too, but... You're definitely the first I chose completely for myself, and I didn't even think we'd become friends after how the Sports Festival went."

That. It's looks exactly like that that make Shouto feel like it's okay to say those kinds of things around Izuku. When he says those words, and looks at him like that, all fire and determination, Shouto can feel his heart give a heavy thump in his chest, everything he has feeling like it's done a dizzying sort of flip for just a moment, and then he's just...sure. He's more sure than he's ever been before, and almost dreamily, he thinks I'd follow those eyes anywhere.

But then they're not on him anymore, and Midoriya's ears are bright pink, a fact he notices with fascination as the other boy keeps going. And those words are a surprise, too, in their way. The mention of the sports festival immediately draws his eyes to the back of Izuku's hand, and his thumb finds the edge of that scar on his palm, tracing the line.

"I know." He's quieter, now, the words a little heavier, and at the same time more hesitant. After all, he still feels guilty about that, doesn't he? About the sports festival, about the way he was to Izuku, the way he'd shoved his entire history at him like that, called him a rival, and then...these scars. "I was--not great. I was terrible to you. And you still--you did this, for me." Said almost like he can't believe it, because he can't. But, still...

Maybe the words are a little silly. But that doesn't make them less true. He'll always be grateful for what Izuku said to him, finally breaking through all those walls he'd built around himself. And as long as Izuku wants him there, he'll never stop. So, why not?

"I'm glad you chose me. Even if I didn't give you much reason to."

The pink remains, but his brows furrow and his mouth hardens into a crooked line across his face at that. He shakes his head, watching Shouto trace the scars on his hand and remembering how after the first break it both didn't hurt at all and hurt so, so much more. His fingers would be crooked forever, the joints already borderline arthritic, but he wouldn't change the pain or the ache when the weather was bad for anything.

"You weren't terrible at all," he says, his tone quiet and musing. There's a lot of things going through his head, but when he moves it's almost entirely unconscious as he links their fingers and lifts Shouto's hand to his face. "Sometimes... sometimes when you grow up thinking one thing, it's really hard to change your own mind. Impossible, really." It's not quite a kiss that winds up happening, but he brings their joined hands to his mouth, pressing Shouto's thumbnail against his lips and humming, looking up and over at him.

"You gave me every reason to reach my hand out to you, because when you took it it gave me a reason to change my mind." He'd always wanted to be a hero, Shouto was just the first person who presented himself in a way that Izuku absolutely had to, even if he wasn't sure his methods would work, and the first to wholly accept saving.

Edited 2019-08-14 04:17 (UTC)

He was terrible. He was, and he wanted to argue, but before he can do more than open his mouth, Izuku is lifting their joined hands to his mouth, and then his lips are brushing Shouto's thumb and he's looking at him like that...is that really what he thinks? He's looking at Shouto like he doesn't regret it at all, and Shouto's always thought that if that were the case, it's because he doesn't know he should, but...maybe it's not that at all.

Maybe, in a way, it had helped Izuku, too. Making that choice. After all, Izuku had saved him. He'd spent so many years mired in pain and anger and bitterness, and then had come this green-haired crybaby who refused to stay down and refused to let Shouto keep his walls up and who had smiled even as Shouto had been on the verge of tears. He'd said you aren't your father, and that quirk is yours, not his, and for the first time Shouto had believed him.

Shouto looks at Izuku, sitting like that, and his heart pounds with the sudden realization that he doesn't just want Izuku to be pressing his lips to his hand like that. This is...has he always felt this way? Since the sports festival, the way he feels when he looks at his classmate...has it all just been some part of him trying to say this?

It's a long moment before he can speak. "You're...not wrong. It's hard sometimes to break away from the way you've always looked at yourself," he says slowly. "What you did--it means a lot."

His next move is deliberate, even if it is slow. Tugging gently at their joined hands, he lifts them to his mouth and gently places a kiss on the scars on the back of Izuku's hand. A big part of him knows this isn't the sort of thing you do with friends, even if he's never really had them. But then, he thinks both of them might have realized that by now. Izuku's really smart, too, after all.

"You mean a lot."

It's probably the way Shouto looks at him, startled by his affection, that makes him shy away slightly. He doesn't quite recoil entirely, but this, at least, he did knowing full well wasn't something commonplace. But maybe he had overstepped, maybe that was too weird for Shouto. He can't decipher the specific emotion behind his friend's eyes, and it scares him a little-- but he listens intently to what he has to say, anyway. He's a little scared, maybe, that Shouto's going to say he's out of line, and now he's just pushing his luck, but he doesn't. Instead it's positive, it's it means a lot, and Izuku's heart climbs into his throat.

He can't breathe when Shouto pulls their hands to his mouth, instead, and this time he does recoil, but it's more like a startled flinch at the contact against his scars. His eyes get hot, suddenly, and he makes a startled little squeak of a sound, and the tremor from his stomach to his heart follows his arm to the hand in Shouto's grasp.

"T-- nnh," Maybe it isn't clear that he'd started to say his name, maybe it is, but he whines softly and his eyes glass over, tears welling up in them. "Y-you-- you too, you know, you-- jeez," He drags his other arm up and across his eyes, trying to keep his shit together.

Izuku isn't the only one who's nervous. After all, what Shouto's just said, what he's done...it's a kind of confession, in its own way, isn't it? And maybe a little in the traditional way, too, despite its abruptness, despite the way he means so much more than just something so trivial and small as 'I like you.' Although it's that, too, he's learning. It's a lot of things. And it's such a risk to just come out and show it like this.

For a moment, when Izuku flinches, he thinks he's messed up terribly, made a huge error in judgement. And then that little whine interrupts his words, and he sees the tears pool in Izuku's eyes, and he knows he's messed up, his heart plummeting like someone's just pulled a rug away to reveal a bottomless pit instead of a floor. "I'm sorry," he says immediately, words he doesn't say very often but means wholeheartedly. "I didn't--please don't cry," he finishes, and there's something very uncharacteristically frantic in those words, something terrified of having ruined everything. He isn't normally this on edge, especially about Izuku crying--he does cry over so many things--but this situation isn't exactly a normal one, is it?

Quickly setting his drink down at the side of the bed, Shouto turns, lifting a hand to Izuku's cheek, not even thinking about what he's doing. He just...wants to help. Wants to fix whatever it is. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nhh--" He can't really talk, not properly, but the immediate shift in Shouto's posture and expression make him want to explain. It's fine, he wants to say, he's just overwhelmed. He's okay. Don't worry, don't apologize, you absolutely did nothing wrong. Instead, the warmth just startles him, radiating from the other in a way that isn't even remotely caused by the left half of his body, and he takes a few deep gulps of air to try and steady himself. It does approximately nothing, and he just shakes his head, waving the hand not held in Shouto's through the air and trying to physically absorb his own leaking.

"You're fine, I-I'm okay," he manages, squeezing Shouto's fingers. "I get-- you know me, crybaby extraordinaire," His whole body is shaking slightly, by then, tremors like he's cold because he does not need to be making this any weirder than it already is. Except then Shouto reaches for his face, and he sucks in a sharp breath and just holds it, because if he didn't freeze his lungs he'd probably just sob, how has anyone on this earth ever hurt Todoroki Shouto he is the sweetest thing.

"Jeez," he repeats, ducking his head and taking measured breaths to regulate his everything, squeezing the hand that is still linked with Shouto's. He's dropped his Pocari at some point, somewhere, and doesn't even care. "Y-you didn't... do anything wrong, you're just really really nice, a-and really important to me, a-and, and I think, maybe, I'm, a little scared of that." It wasn't a lie, and it probably wasn't a very effective way of mollifying him, but it was all he could think to say.

At least he isn't running. At least he isn't making an excuse and making his way to the door. Mostly because he can't bring himself to leave Izuku like this, crying and alone. He won't. So he sits instead, and waits for Izuku to figure it out, resisting the urge to turn a touch into a hug. He's trembling under Shouto's hand, trembling and gasping and still trying to fight off those tears, and it's a little terrifying, but he stays right where he is as Izuku ducks his head and tries to put himself back together.

At least that squeeze to his hand is reassuring. Crybaby extraordinaire, he says, and Shouto doesn't know that he agrees with that, really--it isn't that he's crying over nothing, because obviously he's feeling something, enough to make him like this, and that's...that's part of Midoriya Izuku. That's just who he is. The person who cares so much, and feels so much, that he's just--like this.

I'm a little scared of that. So that's what this is. Strangely, the words help. Maybe because, in a way, he feels them, too. Shouto doesn't move, just leaves his hand on Izuku's cheek, and holds on to the other, and just...waits. Lets Izuku cry it all out. And after a long moment, he finally answers.

"I'm...a little scared, too. I'm not--used to caring about anyone, like this. But--I like being around you more than I'm scared of it. So..." The words are unusually hesitant, but he's figuring this out as he goes. And in that 'so' is so much more, really. So...he'd like to stay. So, he doesn't mind. "So, if you're sure it's okay...I'll stay, and we can watch this movie, and just...sit?" Together. Like this.

It's a blessing that he doesn't choose to hug him, really, more contact than he was already getting would probably turn the faucet on full blast. He's still struggling, trying to calm himself back down, curling his fingers tightly into Shouto's when he admits that he's also a little scared, that he's not used to caring about anyone like this. He sucks in a rough, shaking breath and folds forward further, pressing his forehead into Shouto's knee without really meaning to, and for a moment he just keens, making an awful little sound.

"I'm sorry," he grumbles, tugging Shouto's hand down to curl it close to his chest. "I don't want you to feel weird, but please stay, if it's okay." He can't look at him right now, all snot and tears and angry red blotches on his skin, so he keeps his face hidden.

He isn't exactly expecting the way that Izuku just folds over entirely, his forehead hot and slightly damp against Shouto's knee even through his pants, but it's not entirely a surprise, either. After all, he's still trying to pull himself together, and Shouto's only thought right now is what to do, what will help and not make him cry more.

Of course, all it takes is that noise Izuku makes--one noise--and his heart feels like it's breaking in two. He doesn't even think before freeing whichever hand he can and gently, tentatively stroking the back of Izuku's head, trying to remember the soothing motions of a mother who'd once cared for him more than anything in the world. He just wants to help. He just wants to make Izuku smile. That's all.

"I don't ever feel weird with you," he says, and there's still a softness to his voice, but there's no hesitation at all in the words. "It's more than okay. I just--tell me what to do?" The question is open-ended, a little vague. Can he put the movie on? Can he get Izuku some tissues or a water? Should he just sit here and pet Izuku's hair? They're all valid options and he'd like to do all of them at once, but that's definitely not anywhere within the scope of his quirk.

He makes a warbled little sound, caught in the back of his throat, and shakes his head. He is smiling, despite his tears, and turns his head a little to look sidelong up at Shouto, appreciating the hand in his hair. He's a soggy little disaster of a steamed vegetable, but he's smiling anyway, closing his eyes and smiling a little wider up at him.

"I'm-- I'm okay, really, this is just... I get overwhelmed, and this is..." He shakes his head just slightly, turning his head back against Shouto's knee. This is something he should have talked to him about ages ago. He should have told him, or at least tried to, but did he even really realize how he felt up until this evening? Did he have any idea? He reaches out and curls his fingers around the leg of Shouto's pants, laughing thinly. "This is so much... Here, let me..." He sits up, then, smudging his hand over his face but still keeping his fingers tangled in Shouto's, snuffling wetly. "Lemme put on the movie," he finishes lamely, glancing up.

That smile is all he needs for everything to settle in his chest, watery though it may be. All it takes is that smile, and he knows that everything is going to be fine. It's not exactly like that feeling he'd gotten as a child, watching All Might on TV, but it's similar in a way. They both inspire a sense of certainty.

Though he's definitely never thought about All Might in the way he's thinking about Izuku.

Overwhelmed he understands, though. That's fine. It wasn't that he'd done something wrong, Izuku just felt so much he'd burst into tears. He'll remember that for next time, and try to be more gentle. (Next time? Is he already hoping for a next time, another day of soft touches and shared stories? Yes, of course he is.) "It's okay," he says, as Izuku sits up, and he lets his hand fall from the other boy's hair.

"Here. It's fine. Put on the movie, then come back?" And they can go back to doing this, only maybe with less crying and a tissue or three for Izuku.

He feels like a complete idiot, if he's honest (which really, he has a hard time not being honest?), but he slinks off to find the DVD and put it in the player, setting everything up and shuffling back to the bed with the remote. He pauses when he gets there, face red and damp, and sets it down before he makes any motions to climb back onto it at all.

"Um, do... Can I... ask you something, Todoroki-kun?"

While Izuku's taking care of everything, Shouto just...watches him. Maybe in part a little to see if he really is okay, and in part because...well, he kind of feels like maybe he hasn't been looking closely enough, despite watching Izuku for months now. The way he moves, his hands, his shoulders (surprisingly broad for his size, just like all of him is much more muscular than one might expect).

He's still watching--staring, maybe, a little--when Izuku comes back over to the bed, and Shouto has to resist the urge to reach up and wipe off the rest of those tears. After all, Izuku's asking him a question, or at least a proto-question, and he doesn't want to send him off into more tears again, overwhelmed tears or no. "Of course. You don't have to ask that," he says, but there's no brusqueness in his voice, just a faint surprise. It doesn't matter what it is. If Izuku needs something, he's there, and if there's something he needs to talk about, Shouto will always, always listen. He'd do the same for him, right? So of course.

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