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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Walking sideways like some kind of weird crab thing, it's likely Izuku could spot the look of genuine surprise that finally breaks through the mask of tension and barely maintained composure on Shouto's face. A Silent Protagonist??? Really? He's hardly that interesting. "I'm more like an NPC, or a character you pick up for a quest," he answers, and he feels almost as uncomfortable as Izuku looks.

It'd be much easier if he just held my hand instead, he suddenly thinks, and then doesn't think at all before carefully pulling his arm out of Izuku's grip, instead sliding a hand into his and reaching up with his free hand to rub at the back of his head. There seems to be a little less tension in him, too--maybe it's all still there under the surface, but the distraction seems to be helping.

Strange that Izuku's hand feels so warm, now that he's holding it, when it had felt cool against his cheek just moments earlier.

"Anyway, you don't talk too much. I like listening to what you have to say."

Don't judge his crabwalking, Shouto. Let him live. Or, you know, startle him to death by holding his hand, that's fine too. He starts to laugh at the NPC comment, aiming to follow up with something about him being the best side quest ever, but the shift in contact makes him draw in a sharp breath that catches in his throat and he stills entirely.

His ears and most of his face turn a shade of pink that borders on highlighter, and it's possible that his ears steam from the sudden rise in warmth to his face. He has to consciously not recoil his hand in favor of wrapping his arms around his head, the mess of curls on his head seeming to stand on end in his abrupt fluster. Still, as he turns to face forward to get them up the stairs the rest of the way, his fingers curl loosely around Shouto's.

"Y-yeah? Mmm, thanks, that...," He loses the battle of not putting at least his free arm over his head, splaying his hand against the side of his face. The gesture looks completely ridiculous. "I'm glad somebody does."

The second Izuku freezes, all that tension is right back in Shouto's shoulders, his stomach plummeting like the ground has dropped away beneath him. He'd just thought it would be easier, Izuku could trip the way he'd been walking before, and he doesn't need to be responsible for any more injuries the other boy sustains. Or, maybe that's not entirely right--he hadn't really thought all that hard about it, period, or he'd have realized just how strange it might seem, holding another boy's hand like that. Except--it didn't feel strange. It was kind of nice, or it would be if he didn't suddenly feel sick and anxious all over again.

He starts to open his mouth to apologize as Izuku turns bright pink, starts to let go and pull his hand away, starts to think of an excuse to part ways again, but he doesn't get further than a slight loosening of his fingers before Izuku is turning to face forward, and his fingers curl around Shouto's in response.

It's definitely better that he's facing forward now. It means he doesn't see the faint flush that creeps over Shouto's cheeks, almost hiding that mark. But despite that flush, he doesn't pull away after all.

I'm glad somebody does, Izuku says, and Shouto immediately thinks of Bakugou, of the way Iida called him out during their orientation, of the other classmates poking at Izuku for mumbling to himself.

"If they mind, they aren't listening. You connect things really quickly. It's really educational to hear how you manage to put together profiles and strategies based on what you see," he says, and the words are entirely honest and also complimentary. He means educational in a good way!! Promise.

Was he red before? Because he sure is now, his ears lighting up like a Christmas tree even facing forward. He gets to the hallway and is still silent to his door, turning to Todoroki and giving him a stubborn sort of scrutinizing look for a moment. His face is still red and his eyes are absolutely glassy, but he always has taken things to extremes.

A moment later he deflates from his frown and smiles instead, looking down at their hands and then their feet. It's a bit much, he thinks, but he squeezes Shouto's fingers.

"That means a lot from a prodigy classmate with amazing technical prowess and skill, Todoroki-kun." And he meant it. Endeavor be damned, Shouto was impressive in his own right, and becoming moreso with each day he made his strength his own.

Again, Izuku is silent, and again Shouto wonders if he's said something wrong. Is it his tone? He knows he's pretty deadpan. Does Izuku think he's screwing with him, that he doesn't really mean it? Because he does. Genuinely.

His face isn't often very expressive, either, but there's definitely a visible trace of uncertainty as Izuku turns and gives him a look, bright red and frowning slightly. He's just about to ask what he's done wrong when that frown clears, and Izuku smiles instead, squeezing his fingers, and whatever he was about to ask is gone entirely as he hesitantly squeezes back, shaking his head at the other boy's comment.

"I work hard to be good at it. So do you," he says, and if there's still a tiny lingering flush, he can blame it on the strange situation. Lifting his hand to clasp the back of his neck, he shrugs in the direction of the door.

"Do you want to..."

Not keep standing in the hall, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes, maybe. Not that he's finding he minds, particularly.

Izuku craved validation, but praise set his nerves on fire. He would never go as far as to blame Bakugou for it, only in part because he wasn't even wholly responsible, but he struggled to take compliments without doubt and confusion in himself and the words being given. Todoroki had always been so candid it was almost brusque, so he settled his anxious heartbeat as best he could and slowly released the tension from his shoulders.

And then immediately he jolts, springing for the door and releasing Shouto's hand simultaneously, shoving the door inward.

"Yeah!" He chirped, gesturing for Todoroki to go ahead. "Sorry, I'm a space cadet. Come on in, get comfy. You want anything to drink?"

Shouto feels surprisingly off-balance when Izuku drops his hand, his fingers curling around nothing as his arm falls to his side. It's a strange feeling, but what isn't strange and unsettling about this day? Everything feels almost like a dream, or a nightmare, some weird thing that isn't quite happening.

That's probably not a good feeling. He knows that. But right now, it's helping, and he moves past Izuku into the room, his eyes adjusting to the almost overwhelming amount of primary colors. All Might everywhere. But honestly? It's soothing, in a strange way. Not a single thing that might remind him of his father. There's no room for anything else, in here.

He isn't sure where to go, exactly, so he moves to stand by the desk, eyes falling on yet another All Might figure. He's holding one hand in the other, rubbing absently at his palm when he finally answers.

"Whatever you have is fine." He doesn't want to be more of a bother, really. "Where should I...?"

Sit. Where should he sit. Because there's only one deal chair, and just making himself comfortable on Izuku's bed feels strangely...personal.

Izuku stutters his way into his room and nudges the door shut, leaning there a moment. He doesn't look immediately at Shouto, preferring to stare at his feet to avoid being embarrassed by the overview of his room. Bright and primary was certainly correct... There was almost nothing in the room that wasn't All Might merchandise. Even the curtain over his balcony was patterned in stars and branded to the former Number One.

He looks up finally when he's had the chance to collect himself, and blinks owlishly at Shouto's uncertainty. He laughs a little, a quiet, gentle sound, and steps out of his sneakers on his way across the room, leaving them where they fall. Shouto had taken his hand so easily before, he felt silly now for being shy about it-- it was just a gesture. So he reaches out as he approaches him, holding his hands up for Shouto to take again.

"Come sit on the bed with me, it's the best place to see the TV. I've got some Pocari, and I think I have a bottle of oolong. You like tea, yeah?"

He shouldn't be embarrassed. It's not like All Might is anything to be ashamed of. As a child, he's also the hero that Shouto idolized, the one he'd seen on TV in that one clip and immediately told his mother, I'm going to be a hero like him. Izuku's room might take a second to get used to, but it's not embarrassing. He's passionate. That's all.

The sound of Izuku's laughter is a comfort, not malicious at all, and it makes Shouto look up at him again instead just in time to see the other boy approaching him, a smile on his face and his hands outstretched. The sight is...there's something warm in his chest, something that helps relax the tension in his shoulders that eases by the second.

There's no question about what comes next. Of course he takes Izuku's hands in his own, fingertips briefly brushing his palm, and he'll follow wherever Izuku leads. "Tea's fine, if you have it. Thanks." It's a little strange, settling onto the Western-style bed, but if Izuku says it's the best place, then that's where he'll be.

He didn't have a great amount of exposure to having hangouts with friends he was comfortable with, anymore. He followed Katsuki blindly as a child, but looking back it didn't feel entirely like friendship. They never held hands for no reason or sat on his bed to watch TV, anyway. He also didn't have a TV in his childhood bedroom, and hadn't gotten his laptop until junior high. Still, something felt strangely right climbing onto his bed and standing on it a moment, encouraging Shouto to do the same before dropping into a cross-legged sit, keeping his hands grasped loosely in his own.

"Help me pick what to watch and then I'll get the tea. Movie? TV? I can play some kind of video game, I don't have much that's multi-player though and I wouldn't wanna bore you."

That makes both of them, honestly. Between the homeschooling and the constant training, Shouto didn't ever really have a chance to meet other kids his own age. Sure, he'd had his siblings, and it wasn't like his father had forbidden him from spending time with them, exactly, but they were both older, and there had always been that guilt within him--both for being the cause of their mother being hospitalized (it wasn't his fault, it was Endeavor's, but he was still the cause) and for being the one to get their father's full attention. As a result, it had taken until his admission to UA for him to really get a chance to be around other kids--and he'd almost ruined that for good, too.

Until Izuku.

Shouto follows him as he steps onto the bed, still a little uncharacteristically uncertain, and then sinks into an easy seat with him. Izuku doesn't show any signs of wanting to let go of his hands, and so he doesn't let go, either--although he does shrug a single shoulder at the question. "I don't really watch much TV, or a lot of movies, so I'm not really sure what to watch...really, whatever you want to do is fine. I can always watch you play a game or something. It wouldn't be boring." Nothing with Izuku is ever boring. He's learned that much, at least.

Somewhere, faintly, a meme radio is playing Lonely Boy by The Black Keys. Neither of them have had proper exposure to friendship or being teenage boys, really-- who in their class had? Izuku had at least grown up in a very loving single-family apartment, his mother the only person in the world he was possibly second to in terms of emotional and accepting, but he still grew up very much lacking in the department of good socialization with anyone his age. Go figure, they're actually quite similar despite coming from very different situations.

Their hands joined together as they were was a funny thing, too. He liked contact, even if there was a dull concept of this being strange nagging at the back of his mind, and Shouto had initiated it so it seemed like something they were both benefiting from. He could dither away about the nuance of it and any social repercussions of long-term hand-holding with a classmate later, and probably would in one of his notebooks, but for now he was focusing on the immediate notion that they were both positively affected by it.

He wrinkles his nose, squeezing Shouto's fingers and making a sour expression while he thinks. "Do you read novels or anything? Is there a genre of stuff you prefer...?" Throw him a bone here, Shouto, or he's just gonna put on Captain America.

Some of them appear to have had at least semi-normalish lives. Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero--they all seem to respond perfectly normally to things. Mina, too, despite the difference in her physical appearance, Tokoyami--maybe it just all looks that way from the outside, though. Maybe everyone thinks they're the only ones who are terrible at it. Or maybe there are a few who just hide it better than others.

Whatever it is, it just feels a little more normal with Izuku. He doesn't feel quite so lost, or out of his depth. Some of that is the way he talks, the way he asks questions like he genuinely wants to know, or doesn't ask certain questions like he already knows the answers. The hand-holding is new, but Izuku doesn't seem to mind, or be inclined to stop, and Shouto isn't very inclined either. If it's something Izuku wants to do, he'll do it, and honestly, it's actually kind of nice. It might not be the kind of thing friends don't normally do, but how would he really know?

The result is, he's still sitting here, and he's still holding Izuku's hands, and when those fingers squeeze his he squeezes back, just a little. A response, an affirmation maybe, even if he doesn't know what exactly he's saying yes to. Maybe to still doing this. Even if that question makes him feel a little more self-conscious about all of this.

"I don't really have a lot of time for much...but yeah. I like reading. When I was really small, I had this book of European fairytales..." It's a little embarrassing, but he'd been enamored with the aesthetic, with the idea of chivalry, of princesses kidnapped by firebreathing monsters and knights coming to save them. He'd wanted to be that knight, although he's never said as much to anyone. "Sorry, I know that's not much help. What's your favorite?"

His entire person absolutely lights up at this new information. One because he loves learning, two because he's learning about a friend he doesn't otherwise know a whole lot about, and three because oh my God Todoroki Shouto was such an endearing human. His fingers curl again, and his smile threatens to split his face in two, his wide eyes very nearly glittering. Actually fuck that, they are glittering, but that's likely because he possibly just teared up a little bit. What a fucking booger.

"How am I only just learning this? That's not embarrassing, Fairy Tales of any kind are basically laying groundwork for every hero out there! You have your basic search and rescue story, but with twists of things people don't understand-- and to boot, they have the appeal of not usually involving Quirks since they date back to Pre-Quirk Times. I've got a bunch of storybooks, but I left 'em at home, I'll have to go back to mom's sometime and get them to let you borrow them."

Through his little tirade, he shifted back and forth between pulling their joined hands close to his chest and swaying in place, ever the reactive teenager, and it was almost like he'd completely forgotten he even had a grasp on his friend's extremities. He was always moving, like he couldn't sit still (he couldn't), and he squeezed Shouto's fingers before letting them go, unfolding his legs to climb off his bed all in one fluid motion and bounce his way to the minifridge in the corner. He pulled out two bottles; the oolong tea for Shouto and a Pocari for himself.

"I've also just got water, if you'd prefer or want one later. Catch!" He tossed the oolong for Shouto to catch, nudged the fridge closed with his foot, and climbed right back onto the bed to resume holding the other's hand, though just one this time instead of both. This was going to make opening their bottles cumbersome. "Surprising nobody, I'm a huge fan of any kind of Hero story, but that includes Fairy Tales and other Pre-Quirk fantasy. Sci-Fi gets a little too intense for me sometimes, but I got into a lot of Western comic series as a kid, and there's elements of basically everything scattered throughout most of them. I think I'd have a hard time picking a favorite?" He chews his lower lip and taps the cap of his drink against his chin. "I gotta show you something Disney though. They're maybe a little childish, since they're animated and a lot of the time geared toward younger audiences, but they're really charming."

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.

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