@ pacifisting

[codominant]

[a few hasty bandaids over a profusely bleeding wound, that's probably all this is — but it stems the tide long enough for things to return to almost-normal by the time Monday rolls around. Todoroki has, as expected, recuperated from his hangover in the cool, dark, silent and blissful solitude in his room and sworn off consumption of clear Russian liquids for the foreseeable future, and seeing Midoriya in the morning is... well]

[they don't talk about it. and he doesn't want to. hopes to never, in fact, if he's allowed to have his way. there are a few times throughout the week he thinks he feels his gaze lingering on him a little too long, asking questions he doesn't have answers to (or doesn't want to), pushing his lunch around pensively as he thinks of a way to broach the topic when they're alone]

[in that, too, he gives him fewer opportunities for a while. Uraraka and Iida, oblivious as they are, make for pretty good buffers]

[...until he can't anymore, until there's blood leaking from his nose and his swollen, broken bottom lip, his back planted into the asphalt of an evacuated street by a giant's fist he wasn't fast enough to dodge, knocking the breath and the consciousness right out of him]

[when he comes to after the fight is over and Musutafu is, once again, safe, the only color he sees is — ]

Mi...dori...

[his voice is rough with pain or maybe screaming, a part of his body warm that usually isn't. is this... weight?]

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[pacifisting]

[Midoriya's used to having to put work in, to study, to get the results that he wants. Nothing comes automatically or easily, but if he tries hard enough he can usually cobble together an understanding of an issue and subsequently come up with a solution. Whatever is going on with Todoroki, though, isn't something he can plan or study away. There aren't any classes he can take or books he can read to suddenly be able to handle this situation with anything approaching grace. It's awkward and weird and while Uraraka and Iida know something is off, they don't push, which he's grateful for.

Rather than get addressed, everything goes back to what passes for normal for them and the weird, nebulous thing vanishes, shoved to the background. It's fine, Midoriya reasons. They've got their whole lives ahead of each other and while Midoriya's first attempt at addressing it went abysmally, there will be others. What's most important is they're still friends.

Friends, who get called to each other when something goes down in the city, friends who have to watch each other get tossed into the ground like a rag doll. Midoriya can hear the crack Todoroki's body makes when it connects with the ground just as he arrives, and he doesn't — he doesn't move. Logically, Midoriya knows they've been in tight situations before, but the realization that all of this was still not figured out and that there was a chance of Todoroki dying while things weren't okay between each other, well. It's unacceptable.

Everything after the battle passes in a rush; Midoriya's scraped and bruised and a little achy, but everyone else is the focus of the EMTs, including Todoroki. They give him a once-over and say it's not life-threatening, moving onto the more seriously injured. Midoriya gets it, sure, but there's a part of him that bristles angrily all the same, leftover adrenaline rolling through him like a storm. His hand finds Todoroki's own, holding it between both of his to keep it warm which means that when Todoroki finally wakes, he's the first to notice, leaning over him. ]

Don't move — [ Lightly, he squeezes Todoroki's hand, freckles standing out against the paleness of his cheeks in the light of the street lamps. ] You're okay, and the police have the villain.