Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If Shouto were to tell you anything about his current state of life, it would be about his intensely sudden realization of his crush on Class 2-A's class rep.

Shouto isn't the type to go on and on about a subject like Midoriya, but he could talk for hours about how smooth Iida's hair feels, how his hugs feel like safety, and how his voice feels like a lullaby. He'd go to Midoriya's room and ask him to talk if he didn't know how plagued his friend was.

Still, Shouto can't stop thinking about Iida Tenya.

After Shouto and Iida recover from their injuries in the second war, Shouto makes his way to the hospital's ground floor. He's ready to get a police escort back to Endeavor's house, happy to know that the man will not be there when he gets home.

Stepping onto the escalator, he loses his balance just a bit. He's still a bit cold and shaky from his injuries, but he insisted on being discharged. As he catches his balance on the moving rail of the escalator, an ever-familiar voice resounds behind him.

"Todoroki!" The voice calls, prompting Shouto to look back as he holds his bag of belongings around his shoulder.

Iida, with only a few remaining cuts on his face, is stepping down the escalator and making his way towards Shouto. His smile is soft around the edges, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a weary sort of joy that he's allowed himself after this horrible war.

He looks tired, not from schoolwork or regular training. Shouto would never blame him, not after everything they've experienced.

When Iida stops next to Shouto, he speaks in a tone that Shouto thought he'd never hear again, not after his battle with Touya.

"Take my arm. I wouldn't want you falling after you've just recovered."

It's gentle and it's as kind as it was when Shouto sat on the floor of his Glacial Aegir, when Iida wrapped his arm around Shouto's shoulders and told him he was incredible. His voice, in that moment, has remained in Shouto's mind, playing whenever he thinks he didn't do enough to stop his brother.

It's like a recording, comforting him when the blackness of his hospital room was too much to bear. 

As Iida raises his arm like the gentleman he's always been, there's an ache that shifts inside Shouto's heart that has already changed in Iida's. An openness that they refuse to anyone other than each other, as young and traumatized as they both remain.

Shouto can't describe what it is, can't explain the twinge of something in his chest, but he knows that it's safe.

Shouto takes his arm, his palm resting on the soft fabric of Iida's sweater over his forearm. Iida smiles at him as if Shouto's offered him the world by trusting him, helping him off the escalator with gentle prompting and watchful eyes. When Shouto sways as he takes a few steps, Iida immediately catches him with his other arm before leading him to a sofa in the lobby of the hospital.

Iida sits him down and crouches on one knee before Shouto, holding a cautious hand up to his forehead and speaking as gently as he was before, "Are you sure you're alright to head home? There's no shame in staying a few more days."

Shouto's brain seems to pause at the warmth of Iida's hand on his forehead, trapped in looking at Iida's face. He looks concerned, eyebrows pinched together in worry as he feels around at fever-sensitive spots like the sides of his neck. It feels so nice, and if he's honest with himself, Shouto leans into the warm skin that so kindly touches his own.

He almost wishes he could fall asleep like this. In this safety that he's never felt before.

"Todoroki?" Iida's voice calls, a little louder, a little more worried, "Please, stay a bit longer. You need to rest, and you're still very cold."

Shouto snaps himself out of it, blinking a few times to stave off the drowsiness and sleep. He nods and speaks gently, "The police are waiting for me outside to take me home. I don't want to have called them for nothing."

Worry only grows on Iida's face, but it's clear that he knows Shouto can make his own choices regarding his health. He removes his hand from Shouto's skin, and Shouto mourns the loss of contact. Iida's warmer than he'd originally thought.

Iida speaks softer as he helps Shouto stand from the sofa, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, "At least text me when you get home safely."

Shouto practically melts into the embrace, his still-weak arms pressing against the fabric resting over Iida's lower back. He closes his eyes, feeling more cherished than he's been in years. Iida's arms are a comforting weight around his mildly frostbitten body, warm and strong.

Shouto presses more firmly into him, close and snug as they hug in the hospital lobby. He doesn't want to let go.

Sadly, it doesn't last. Not with Iida's respect for everyone's personal space. Shouto lets go, albeit reluctantly, and offers a light-hearted smile as Iida holds onto his shoulders.

Iida seems concerned still, his pinched eyebrows wrinkling his forehead, making him seem a few years older. However, he seems to put aside those worries, instead voicing his support with nothing more than a gentle huff through his nose, and a smile that makes Shouto want to put his arms right back around the boy's neck.

Regardless of any of his wishes for affection, Shouto bids him goodbye with a wave, heading outside the hospital's automatic doors and finding his way to the police escort. He can't stop thinking of the warmth of Iida's arms smoothing over his body, rubbing and comforting like he's never felt before.

Even as the police car vibrates over speed bumps and rocky roads as Shouto heads home, there's nothing in his mind but longing for his friend's arms.

He'll think back on the hug later and realize there was more to it than a simple farewell embrace between two friends.

Shouto's been waiting on his test results since he got discharged, seeing as his current state of constant cold temperatures was odd for someone who should be able to regulate their temperature relatively well.

The lab ran a few brain scans, took a couple of vials of blood from his arm, and did physical exams to test his range of motion. He thought the stiffness in his muscles was from being injured and lying in a hospital bed for a week, not from any underlying problem.

Now, he sits at home, in a phone call with his doctor, who is speaking to him very gently, as if he's telling a small child that their grandparent has died.

"Mr. Todoroki, your labs have come back with a few issues, and I'm going to tell you each of them very slowly so you don't miss anything. Does that sound alright to you?" The doctor asks, his voice slightly electronic over the phone.

Shouto speaks with slight hesitance, his worry growing with each passing second, "That's fine. Go ahead."

The doctor takes a deep breath and starts to explain, his voice clear and enunciating the more complex medical terminology, "When using your ice in the battle with Dabi, you significantly damaged your Hypothalamus. That's the part of the brain that regulates temperature. This includes the function of your sweat glands, blood vessels, and heat ducts in your body's system."

The doctor continues, "When you first recovered from your main injuries, you mentioned feeling quite cold. We checked your temperature consistently until you left our hospital, and your body was at a continuous temperature of 96.3 degrees Fahrenheit."

"This borders on a dangerous body temperature, and it seems you now have a condition we call Hypothalamus Dysfunction Disorder Type B. For short, HDDB. Type B is when your body is too cold, Type A is when your body is too hot."

The doctor takes a deep inhale before very slowly enunciating his words.

"This condition can be treated, but not cured."

Shouto blinks.

He breathes.

And his heart sinks in his chest, down to his feet.

"Now, thankfully, your body seems to have another fix for this sort of issue. Your fire seems to be immediately heating your body when your temperature gets too low, so this condition is not as life-threatening as it usually is. However, you will likely need to consistently visit your local doctor for check-ups to ensure your condition hasn't worsened from any hero work you'll do in the future."

"Before I continue, do you have any questions for me, Mr. Todoroki?" The doctor asks, slightly winded from the very long explanation.

Shouto sort of... blanks. All this information, all at once, in one sitting. He's processing everything his doctor has said, sure. That doesn't make it any easier to hear that he's got a lifetime condition of being cold and potentially hypothermic if his body were to stop functioning properly.

Instead of asking any questions, he just takes in the information he's been given and responds with a quiet voice, "No. No, you can... You can continue."

The doctor pauses and sounds as skeptical about Shouto's answer as he is, but keeps talking regardless of it, "It would be wise to get a thermometer bracelet from any pharmacy nearby you, as soon as possible. If your temperature decreases to 95 or lower, you should immediately head to a hospital."

"It would be in your best interest to dress in warm clothing, sleep in thick blankets, and have a medical bracelet with your condition's details on it."

Shouto blinks a few times, somewhat dazed from the conversation, "Where would I get the medical bracelet?"

The doctor responds, kind and understanding, "I ordered one for you when I made the conclusion you had HDDB. It'll be sent to your home in a day or two, by mail. Would you prefer us to get it to you sooner?"

"No, that works." Shouto pauses and looks around the room, puzzled and slightly worried, "Was anything else wrong with my labs?"

"Only minor things that will improve over time. Nothing to worry about." The doctor is silent for a moment before he speaks again, voice softer, "I know this must be hard to hear. This doesn't mean your life is over, but it will be harder. You're a strong kid, and I know you'll be alright."

Shouto breathes in and out, slow and deep. His lungs feel tight with dread, and he knows where it comes from now, after he's already gone and visited Touya in the hospital with the rest of his family. Even if that man is in a wheelchair, paralyzed from his hips down, Shouto is still terrified of his disapproval.

He knows what disability spells for most heroes. It's almost always a death sentence for your career, considering that most quirk-related disabilities require breaks from quirk usage.

Even if he builds up the courage to tell the rest of his family, he may never be able to tell his father. 

Shouto straightens up where he sits at the kotatsu, a hand smoothing over his thigh as he speaks formally to his doctor, "Thank you."

"Take care."

The phone call cuts out with the hang-up noise, and Shouto stuffs his phone back in his pocket. To get rid of this nervousness, he sends himself out of the stuffy atmosphere that's been created by heading to the pharmacy in the city. Even as he makes his way inside and searches for a thermometer bracelet, he can't get his mind off the words of his doctor. 

He can't stop thinking about his future, and the way this changes everything he's aspired and trained to be. Saving people, putting away the people who don't deserve to walk the streets, campaigning for the less fortunate, every aspect of hero life. There's no way he can do all of those things if he needs to constantly take days off.

Even as he checks out at the pharmacy, exchanging pleasantries with the store clerk, he's conflicted. He knows there's a chance he could die if he doesn't abide by the new rules of his body, but he can't imagine his future the same as he did before. 

His body now works against him, just as he used to work against himself by not accepting his power. He expected his last existing roadblock to be saving Touya and healing him, giving his older brother everything he needed and never received. He didn't think his Glacial Aegir would harm his body as much as it did, he's always been able to fire off massive ice attacks.

It must've been because he was collecting all that energy in his body, focusing so solely on his attack that he didn't even consider the damage it was doing. 

When he gets home, he figures out how to turn on the thermometer bracelet, puts it on his wrist, and finds that his current temperature is 96. The thrum of his quirk runs underneath his left side, and he feels it thaw some of the cold that now runs through his entire body, not just his right.

There's the terrifying possibility of his left side halting in its efforts to keep his body temperature level, and even as he returns to the living room to speak with the rest of his family and pretend his world hasn't changed completely with one phone call, the worried nausea that settles in his stomach doesn't leave.

As he lies in bed a few days later, he wracks his brain, trying to find ways to get rid of this horrible condition he now has. He thinks about Hatsume, asking her to creature a gadget to keep his temperature at 98 instead of the very dangerous 96 or 95.

He thinks of Midoriya, asking him if he's ever had any ideas similar to that sort of support item, but he thinks better of it. His friend has just lost his quirk and everything he ever dreamed of along with it.

He hadn't been too worried about his condition when he was still in the hospital, Shouto only thought that his injuries were still healing, that his body was still feeling the effects of his massive attack. But, in the past few days, he's realized there's more to it.

He's been constantly exhausted, feeling the urge to head back to bed the moment he gets up each morning, dozing off on the couch while Fuyumi and his mother talk about something he can't pay attention to. 

His hands and legs are paler than they used to be, and after he looks it up, he discovers it's because, when the body gets too cold, it shifts all blood flow towards vital organs. It sends him on a spiral of looking up reactions that occur when your body is at low temperatures, and he finds that he's now at a higher risk for heart attacks or strokes from blood clotting.

The shivering is endless, and there's a slight tremor in his hand each time he raises it. He's been trying his best to hide the way he trembles around his mother, but Shouto gets the sense that she's already noticed that something's wrong.

He knows, realistically, that his mother would never tell Enji anything if he asked her not to. But he doesn't want to tell her, even with the trust he has in her. He wants to be the hero she always deserved, to make her proud and give her peace.

Shouto doesn't know if he can do that as he is now.

Before he can marinate on any of those feelings further, his eyes drift to his phone that lies on the floor beside his futon. 

Iida's kept in contact with Shouto ever since he got out of the hospital, checking in on him and sending him reminders to hydrate, to eat, and even to sleep, if he so happens to be awake. It makes Shouto wonder why Iida is awake so late, considering that each time he's texted Shouto about sleep, it's been in the early hours of the morning. 

Shouto doesn't doubt that every classmate of his is haunted by the scenes each of them saw and experienced in the war. Bakugo died for a few minutes on the field, Midoriya had to kill Shigaraki, and Uraraka couldn't manage to save the one villain she so desperately wanted to help.

He knows there's no peaceful resolution to any war, especially not this one. Heroes died or quit, lost their quirks or were injured beyond the ability to keep working, or were too traumatized to come back.

Iida was at his side at every turn, holding him after Touya was unconscious, transporting him from Kamino to Gunga, and reassuring Shouto when he thought almost everything was over and his family was going to die.

Shouto picks up his phone, anxious fingernails scraping against the tatami floor, and turns it on. He quickly dials Iida's phone number into his phone and holds it up to his ear, hoping it isn't too late at night to be calling him.

"Todoroki? Is everything alright?"

When the phone clicks and that comforting, deep voice registers in Shouto's ears, he sighs.

"I got a call from my doctor a few days ago," Shouto responds, fidgeting with the plush fabric of his pillow as he hesitates to continue.

His apprehension is not lost on Iida, if his lowered voice is anything to go by.

"What did he tell you?" Iida speaks, quiet and understanding as he's trying to mask any concern. It filters into his voice regardless of those attempts.

Or maybe Shouto just knows Iida well enough to tell when he's worried.

"The part of my brain that handles temperature control. I damaged it, with Glacial Aegir," Shouto speaks quietly, trying not to wake the rest of his family as he tries to sort things out.

"Hypothalamus Dysfunction Disorder is what he called it. My body is too cold," Shouto pauses, lifting his wrist and staring at it, "I need to monitor my temperature now. It's also probably not a good idea to keep using my ice in excessive ways."

There's silence on the other end, and Shouto can't help but feel scared of Iida's reaction.

He keeps talking, quiet and scared, "I don't know how to be a hero like this. I just got my family back, it's... It feels unfair. Like I've worked so hard just to fall further than I did before."

"I'll need to take days off of hero work in the future, this condition isn't curable. How am I supposed to be the hero I want to be when my body feels this weak?"

There's a deep breath that comes from the speaker on his phone, and Shouto pretends not to tense up with the urge to just tell Iida to forget it and hang up.

"Do you remember when I would not show up to certain physical training classes, back when everything was normal?" Iida asks, his voice delicate and gently coaxing.

Against his pillow, Shouto curls up further, confused, "I do. You had extra classes those days, right?"

There's a light huff on the other side, "That's what I told everyone. The reality was that my arm needed to rest, those days. If I overworked it, my nerves would spasm and ache."

"Your injury from Stain." Shouto says with a bit of realization, "You didn't tell me that."

"I didn't tell anyone. Back then, I was worried the rest of the class would think I was slacking on training." Iida continues, his voice fond, "I spoke to Midoriya recently, about my injury. He has enough injuries like that to know how to handle these things."

Shouto's smile warbles around the edges, "That's for sure."

"Well, he told me that there's no shame in having a body that doesn't do what you want it to. He said that the world can slow you down and that you can find loopholes where your strength is," Iida says lightly, as sincere as he's always been with his advice.

"It is unfair. I won't tell you there aren't going to be drawbacks from this, because I know it's not what you want to hear. It doesn't mean your life is over, it's just changed. And you're allowed to be upset about it, Shouto."

Ah. There it is again.

That melodic sound of his speech, wrapped around Shouto's body like a warm cloud. It feels like a weighted blanket, tucked around his shoulders and lying him down to rest. His mind runs in circles trying to make sense of it. The security that comes with each vibration from his vocal cords, and the urge to just close his eyes and listen.

Before he can even respond, a light sob escapes from his throat, and he's already crying. Iida's voice continues with encouragements and words so filled with affection that Shouto blanks out, crying into his pillow as he wishes Iida's arms were there to hold him.

Shouto rambles endlessly about the unfairness, the insecurity, the shame. He thought he finally had control over his quirk, that he could use it without ever feeling like it was against him. As he cries, he's quiet. But even still, he feels like he's screaming.

As his voice wavers, while he rubs at his eyes, he talks about how he wishes he'd never given his father another chance. If his father had just done what he was supposed to do as a parent, Touya never would have burned on Sekoto Peak.

Fuyumi and Natsuo wouldn't be heavily traumatized and scared of being ignored. Shouto wouldn't be stuck with a lifelong condition that was caused by his father's constant vitriol and selfishness.

He spirals into sorrow about his oldest brother, wishing things were different, that he hadn't suffered so badly. All he wanted was attention, to be praised for his dreams, and to be acknowledged. He was neglected so badly that he felt the urge to kill his siblings who he loved, just to hurt their father.

Shouto feels like a whirlwind, emotions thrown around side to side like the embers of a fire. He can't stop crying, and he's so angry.

"You have all the rights in the world to be angry with him, Shouto. If you never wanted to see him again, I wouldn't blame you. Not in the slightest."

"I haven't told him, I'm so afraid he'll find a way to hurt me again. I know he's trying to be better, but I still don't trust him. I don't," Shouto chokes down a sob, "I don't want to see him in the morning."

There's a pause on the other end of the phone, silent as Iida seems to think about something while Shouto's cries die down slowly.

"Do you want me to ask Mr. Aizawa if you can return to the dorms? I'm already there, and I'm sure he'd let you." Iida speaks hopefully.

"It's so late. I wouldn't want to bother him," Shouto sniffles, wiping tears from his cheeks.

A few sounds come from the other line before Iida speaks, "Shouto, you're terrified of seeing your father in the morning. That's reason enough to wake our teacher up."

Shouto considers it. It would be nice to sleep in the dorms again, he hasn't been sleeping great at home anyway. Even with Enji in a wheelchair, the danger he's consistently posed to Shouto won't leave his nervous system.

The home has been tense with his mother and Enji so close together, and Shouto keeps worrying that his father is going to try hurting her. He's aware that the man isn't stupid enough to try something like that again, but the fear always sits in the back of Shouto's mind.

The Heights Alliance dorms have always felt like home, with the rest of his classmates and his friends right where he knew they were safe. He knows Kaminari, Kirishima, and a few others have already returned to the dorms after their injuries healed. Not to mention, Shinsou is getting settled in, too.

He thinks about Fuyumi and his mother, who will wonder where he's gone in the morning, and finds that they'll probably be alright if Shouto just texts his sister that he's gone back to the dorms. He can meet them later, when Enji isn't involved.

"I want to go back to the dorms," Shouto speaks quietly against his pillow, slowly sitting up.

He can hear Iida's smile from the other end, "Okay. Go ahead and pack your things, I'll text you after I've spoken to Mr. Aizawa."

Shouto sniffles and takes a deep breath before he responds, "Okay."

"And, Shouto?"

Shouto hums in response, questioning.

"Don't ever hesitate to call me. I'll always pick up."

When Aizawa's car appears in front of Shouto's home, he's already hoisting his bag of belongings into his arms. His teacher has a sympathetic expression on his face, and when he doesn't question Shouto as he gets in the passenger seat, he can tell that Aizawa knows what's going on at his home.

He has to know, considering Touya's dramatic reveal of his less-than-ideal home life. The class and the teachers had very little time to discuss the abuse Enji put his entire family through, there were more important things happening then. Still, Aizawa's gentle checking-in since Touya's broadcast hasn't been lost on him.

A few times, Aizawa had knocked on his room's door in the newer dorm system for the second war, to ask if Shouto needed to talk. He knew what it implied, that it meant acknowledging everything his father had done. He wasn't ready for it, then. Shouto had only just achieved some semblance of peace within himself.

He brushed Aizawa off back then, promising to talk about it later.

Shouto supposes it's 'later' now, but he still finds himself afraid of admitting that his father isn't worthy of the redemption he's desperately trying to stoke. Anyone else would be able to say, with their full chest, that pushing a five-year-old to train until he vomits is a bad thing.

Shouto would agree with them if they were speaking about a five-year-old other than himself.

Aizawa's voice breaks Shouto out of his dazed thoughts about his father and childhood, grounding and deep as it always has been.

"Iida gave me a short version, so I have a vague idea of why you're here. I won't ask you to tell me what happened tonight, or to get into any of the baggage you have on your shoulders. I know you probably just want to sleep."

Shouto looks at him, eyes tired and slightly darker from stress. He looks around a bit, realizing that they've already arrived at the dorms while he was off thinking about his family. When he looks back at Aizawa, there's that soft, parental gaze on his face that he always tries to hide.

"I'm staying on campus for you and the rest of the class. If you need me for anything, I'm not far."

Aizawa motions for Shouto to exit the car, and he does, holding his thick duffel bag of belongings in his arms like a pillow. He leans down once he closes the door and Aizawa rolls down the window.

"Thank you for getting me, Mr. Aizawa."

Aizawa nods and speaks gruffly, "Get some rest, kid."

Shouto steps back and watches as Aizawa drives off to the Teacher's dorms before shivering in the chilly night air. He turns around and makes his way through Heights Alliance's doors, knowing it's not smart to stay out at night anymore. 

When he makes his way into the common room, his eyes land on the dim light that comes from the living area and the two heads of purple and yellow that sit there. As he pulls his sweater more firmly around himself, he moves over to the couch that holds the two and purposely makes his steps louder so he doesn't scare them.

The sight he's granted with is softer than he expected. Jirou is resting her uninjured ear on top of Kaminari's shoulder, asleep, with light breaths coming from her parted lips. Kaminari is still awake, just scrolling through his phone as Jirou slumbers.

When Kaminari notices Shouto, he looks up and sends him a little wave and a whisper, "Welcome back. Couldn't sleep at home?"

The blonde sends a glance at Shouto's duffel bag before quickly returning eye contact. Shouto thinks that's a good enough excuse for now, even though Kaminari likely already knows why he left his family home. He nods and watches Kaminari's expression meld into understanding.

"Yeah, the dorms always felt more comfortable to me too," Kaminari says, smiling gently as Jirou shifts in the blanket they're both intertwined in.

Shouto eyes Jirou and Kaminari, speaking with a gentle smile, "Is this a new thing?"

He watches as Kaminari's face turns soft as he responds, "Yeah. I thought, 'Hell, I almost lost her. What if I never get the chance to tell her how I feel?' So, I pretty stupidly walked up to her during breakfast, and... Well."

Kaminari looks back at Jirou, peaceful and undisturbed in her sleep, and rubs his cheek against her head, "It was worth it. Even if I did embarrass myself by stuttering."

As Shouto bids him goodnight, he feels a bit fluffy in his chest. Kaminari and Jirou were perfect for each other, pining after the other for nearly the entire year they've been at UA. Seeing them finally get together as it feels like they were always meant to, stirs a mixture of jealousy and happiness in his heart.

He's happy they're open with each other; they deserve it. But Shouto can't stop thinking of Iida holding him in his arms instead. For a moment, while he was watching the two of them, a flashing image of him resting his head against Iida's built shoulders came to mind, and his cheeks are now no longer only pink because of the cold.

He's been aware of his shifting feelings towards his friend since he first visited Iida in his hospital room, when Shouto fell asleep at the side of his bed after a nightmare. He remembers the feeling of Iida's fingers wafting through red and white strands of hair, tender and raw in his hands.

Most of their classmates have become more affectionate with each other because of the weight of the trauma bond they all share from the war, but this feels different. There's a sensitivity that comes with each bout of physical touch, a fragile trust that feels much more breakable than their previous friendship.

Shouto would be lying if he said he wasn't scared. He's terrified of screwing up and ending in awkwardness, but he would say he's even more afraid of what would happen if his feelings were returned. He imagines scenarios in which he's held in strong arms and covered in warmth and acceptance as he drifts off into sleep.

The image makes his chest ache with yearning.

As he unpacks his belongings in his room, unrolling his futon and pondering how to handle his endless, pitter-pattering heart rate, there's a knock at his opened door. Shouto turns his head, tired eyes recognizing the person in the doorway immediately.

He's dressed in those silly pajamas, blue and white stripes with the tip of a hat that hangs off his head like a Santa hat. It's endearing, to see him not so polished for once. 

Iida smiles at him in sweet-tempered concern, "How are you feeling?"

"Better. As much as I can be, I guess," Shouto responds, a little weary from his panic at his family home.

Iida walks into the room and crouches down to help Shouto unpack his things. They've been in each other's dorm rooms enough times throughout the year to know where things go, and Iida folds the haphazardly thrown clothes together before placing them in Shouto's dresser.

It's oddly domestic, something Shouto isn't used to. Of course, his parents never showed this sort of affection to each other, but he knows enough about what married couples are supposed to be like now. 

It's different. This scene of folding laundry with Iida is so comfortable that it shocks him. If Shouto could stay together with him like this forever, he thinks that his life would be something worthwhile. 

Iida asks him where his socks should go and Shouto tells him where. Shouto struggles to fold one of his turtlenecks and Iida takes over with gentle prompting. There's nothing more to it. The simplicity of it is so secure, and Shouto's so focused on it that he barely notices the pink on the other's cheeks. 

There's a smile on Iida's face, so fond and unguarded that it takes all the air from Shouto's lungs in an instant. He's struck with the need to know if that smile is for him, if this tranquility is something Shouto is allowed to own.

There's a strand of hair that falls into Iida's eyes, and he keeps trying to push it away with a shake of his head. It's clear that he's frustrated with it, but there's no real rush to brush his hair back. Shouto gets lost for a moment, and before he knows it, he's caressing the hair away from Iida's face and behind his ear instead.

Shouto only realizes what he's done after Iida's widened eyes meet his, his lips parted in surprise. He immediately pulls his hand back and flushes a bit, cheeks pink with a mix of embarrassment and heart-pounding impulsivity.

"Sorry." Shouto speaks, quiet and blunt as he always seems to be, "It was bothering you, I thought I would help."

Iida recovers much faster and shakes his head lightly, although he seems a bit dumbfounded, "I didn't mind it."

Shouto can't tell if it's just the dim lighting of his dorm room, but it would seem that Iida's cheeks are tinted with red.

"Oh. That's good." Shouto responds and instantly feels dumb for such a short and lacking response. He's pretty sure that the fluster shows on his face, considering that he immediately turns back to folding a pair of pants.

Even as they fold Shouto's clothing and put away his things, there's an air of caution after the interaction. For a long time throughout their actions, Shouto wonders why Iida's been helping him so avidly. A younger him would've called it pity, but he knows better now.

Iida's not one for those sorts of disrespectful notions. If he's ever done anything similar to pity, it would've been when he was younger, before the war. He's grown enough now to understand that no one wants pity, they only want understanding.

It's one of the reasons Shouto's fallen so deeply into these fond feelings towards him. Iida has been a constant pillar of peace and earnestness since Shouto allowed himself to form attachments like a normal teenager. Of course, he knows he has a crush, but this feels so different than how he's heard it described.

Mina and the other girls often discuss crushes like sparks and excitement, electricity, even. Something to be anticipated, as one would for fireworks.

As Shouto looks at Iida Tenya, what he feels does not burst like a fish jumping over water. No, it thrums and pulses like a melody wishing to be sung. He has no want for adrenaline or cheap thrills, and finds only the need for the sweet refuge of his voice, like a pull.

When the awkwardness wears off and each of Shouto's things is put away, Iida slowly gets up to head back to his dorm room. But, before he exits the doorway, he turns back to Shouto and seems to debate something in his mind.

Shouto watches as Iida's expression shifts from confident, to nervous, to the courageous urge to say something. His lips curl into a smile as he watches Iida be so indecisive. He rarely gets so nervous, and as much as it makes him wonder anxiously about what he's going to say, it's just as charming.

Iida swallows before he speaks gently, "I debated whether or not to tell you this because of the difficult past few days you've had. I didn't want to overwhelm you or make you uncomfortable. Our friendship means the world to me, and I wanted to be sure of my emotions before I chose to speak up."

Shouto blinks slowly, watching as Iida's cheeks warm up and turn red. It's a sight that Shouto is growing used to, even in this short time of watching Iida more closely. Iida stands up straighter and puts a hand over his heart, an image of sincerity.

"I value every moment we share. I care about you in a way that I've never felt with anyone else, and I suppose I've been quite disorganized lately because of it." Iida breathes deeply and tries to keep his words as poised and elegant as he always does.

"I'm so sorry, I'm trying to say this in a way that is respectful." Iida laughs nervously, and Shouto finds his heart beginning to pound just as it did when he first felt Iida's arms around him.

Iida breathes quickly and continues, "I want to care for you, keep you with me, and hold you to keep you warm. It surprised me, how often I thought about caressing your face, or brushing your hair, or even just talking to you, and, I'm..."

Shouto feels his heart grow lighter. At first, he'd been so nervous that Iida was going to say something concerning, something consequential. He hadn't even considered or hoped that his futile feelings of love were returned, that he'd be able to have what he longed for so soon.

Iida continues as Shouto's mind whirls, "I have romantic feelings for you. Shouto."

Shouto feels like he's in the clouds during a lightning storm. His mind is fuzzy and sparks are flying at the same time, like there's a sparkler in his brain that's filling it with smoke.

Ah. Now, he understands. He understands why crushes are always described as fireworks and elation. 

"I don't want this to change anything if you do not feel the same. I would never be angry with you for not returning my emotions, and to be quite fair, I still think it's a bit early to be telling you all of this." Iida puts his other hand above the one that rests on his chest.

"Before you say anything, I want to give you time to think about my feelings towards you. I don't want this decision to be rushed or insincere, which is not to imply that you'd do either of those things-"

"Iida-" Shouto attempts to interrupt Iida's seemingly panicked declaration.

"Please let me finish," Iida asks, out of breath and clearly flushed about his choice to do this now, "Take however long you need to get back to me, I'll wait for your answer."

With his admission of his feelings, Iida seems to immediately rush into flustered panic, most likely because he didn't plan this far. It is very short notice, after all.

"I'll see you in the morning. Get some good rest, Shouto. Goodnight!"

Before Shouto can even reach out and stop Iida from fleeing with panicked, turbo-powered legs, the door is shut in his face. He hears a frenzied apology for the noise and accidental slam of the door, and senses that Iida has already run off, leaving Shouto to deal with his racing heart.

Shouto sinks to the floor, crouching and holding his palm over his chest, patting it a few times and urging his heart to calm itself. There's a part of him that is confused and a part of him that fears this gentle affection that he's been offered, but, on the other hand,

He's so happy he feels his jaw ache with the force of his smile.

He knows that Iida must have chosen to confess because of the soft atmosphere created in Shouto's room, doing something so domestic and homely as laundry. When they met eyes those few times, Iida shared smiles so honest that Shouto felt blissful, like a perfect and long-awaited birthday gift.

Shouto's heart is still unrestful in his chest, and he can't help but put the backs of his hands on his cheeks to check how warm they are. It's not just the shock of his feelings being returned, it's how sleep-bound Iida seemed. The slight droop to those beautiful crimson-red eyes, the bedhead he failed to refine, the undone button at the top of his oddly formal pajamas.

It's just like Iida to run off once he's made a declaration so sincere. Contrary to what most people believe, he's a lot more nervous than he lets on. Shouto's seen it enough times to be called a professional on Iida-speech.

Shouto lightly paces his room, trying to figure out whether or not to follow after his crush who's so abruptly confessed his love, or to simply wait for a plan to come to mind. It comes to him a few moments later, a plan that would work for his anxious pining after his year-long friend who he has feelings for.

When he was too afraid to speak to his mother upfront, he sent letters that he never sent. After he visited her, he finally sent all of those letters. Shouto figures that he could do it differently for this situation, and settles on a plan.

When he gets up in the morning, he's going to start a draft of a letter to slip under Iida's door. He'll respond to Iida's feelings exactly the way he wants, and finds that he's now thankful for the time that he's been given to make a decision.

As he lays down to sleep, he can't help but bury his face in his pillow as he remembers Iida's words like a music box that's been put on repeat. Shouto's cheeks are bathed in a red he didn't know was capable from anything other than his fire, and he can hardly feel the cold that comes with his condition. 

It's safe to say that he doesn't sleep very well that night.

Five days later, Shouto is in the middle of his fifth draft of a letter when he gets a warning from his thermometer bracelet. He's already been feeling shivery and uncomfortable from the more frigid weather of today, considering the rain that pours outside.

When the beeping noise of his bracelet blares in his ears, he checks the numbers. He's at 95.8.

Crap. Not good.

He needs to get warm, and quick. After turning off the alarm, he double-checks the notes he put down in his phone during a follow-up appointment with his doctor.

He created a checklist of things to do when his temperature gets too low, each of them, tasks that the doctor recommended. First, get warm. Second, check circulation. Third, call someone for help, in any case of unconsciousness from potential hypothermia.

He doesn't feel bad enough to go to the hospital yet, but if his temperature gets any lower he will need to. Shouto abandons his letter, despite his wishes not to, and immediately makes his way to the heating system that Aizawa installed in his dorm room.

He turns the system up a few degrees, and makes a note to thank Aizawa for insisting on installing the new device in his room after his diagnosis got through to UA's system.

Shouto then moves over to his futon, a shiver running through his body as he lies down on the thin mattress. He pulls the thick blankets he's purchased over himself, layering them over his body to keep his heat in a pocket around him.

When he finally finds the optimal position to keep his body heat at a temperature that doesn't spell hypothermia, he reaches for his phone and pulls up the camera to check his circulation. Even as he does so, his hands are trembling. He can't tell if it's because of the cold or his anxiousness.

As he pokes and prods at the skin of his lips, the pink of his lips fades to white and comes back slower than it should. He knows what his doctor told him. If that's the case, Shouto needs to call someone and make sure they're nearby, if he has a medical emergency. But, he honestly doesn't know who to call.

Aizawa is out, he's taken Eri to one of her quirk counseling appointments, and Shouto doesn't want to interrupt such an important thing. That girl deserves to feel like she has control over her quirk more than anyone else.

Midoriya is still recovering in the hospital from the extensive surgeries and injuries he's sustained, and so is Uraraka. She nearly bled out on the battlefield and is on strict bed rest, not to mention that she's still grieving.

The only person left to call is Iida. As much as Shouto adores him, he doesn't know if he wants the other boy to see him like this. He won't forget how Iida comforted him the first time he called, back at his family home. They spent hours on that phone call, and all Iida ever did was console him calmly and let him cry.

Shouto remembers asking Iida if he would have to give up on his dream. He remembers sobbing as Iida immediately said no and launched into a serious voice.

"Your life may be different, you may need to rest, but the fact that you are a hero will never change. Not to Mr. Aizawa, not to Midoriya, not to anyone in Class 1-A." He remembers Iida saying, on the verge of tears himself.

He remembers the next few words the most, though.

"And, especially, not to me."

He wonders if Iida will feel differently if he sees one of these flare-ups in person. How Shouto shakes and trembles like the weak child he used to be. How he clutches at his sleeves, hugging himself like it's the only comfort he'll ever receive.

But Iida's words continue to ring in his mind, and he decides to take a chance. After all, if Iida no longer wants to start a relationship with him after seeing how tough his life is, then there's nothing Shouto can do.

Turning his phone on once again, he dials Iida's number into the screen and places the device back on the floor, not wanting to lift the cold metal to his cheek. Even as the phone rings in wait for Iida, Shouto shudders under his blankets, groaning with discomfort as he tries not to let his teeth chatter.

His regular temperature is usually more tolerable than this, he just has to make sure he's dressed in sweaters and stays inside for colder days. These flare-ups of bleakness and iciness are new to him, and they're no less jarring each time they've happened.

The exhaustion is always the first thing Shouto notices, then it's the trembling, and then it's the slurring words and confusion. On days like these, It feels like his body's been taken from him, all agency stripped away by this condition that now rules over his life.

When the phone picks up, there's a soft voice that comes through the speaker, familiar and reassuring, "Shouto? Are you alright?"

Shouto wonders, in the back of his mind, how Iida immediately knows that something is wrong. Still, he pushes the thought back and gets to the point.

"My temperature is too low. I don't think I need to go to the hospital, but," Through slightly quivering lips, Shouto whispers in a voice that feels too scratchy to be his own, "My doctor told me to have someone with me in case I have a seizure or something. Could you-"

"I'll be right there." The phone hangs up, and Shouto has to hold back the shocked laugh that nearly escapes him at the urgency in Iida's voice.

Maybe he should have clarified that he's not currently having a medical emergency.

He's probably worried Iida, Shouto's voice sounds pretty scraggly and dehydrated. He's been spending so long at his desk lately that he hardly has time to get water, which is probably one of the reasons he's having this flare-up now. In hindsight, he probably should've taken more breaks, but there's nothing he can do about it now.

Under his blankets, Shouto snuggles his cheek against the fleece fabric, thinking about Iida's instant response to being asked for help. It amuses him and makes his heart flutter all the same, knowing Iida continues to be so watchful of him.

Over the past few days of living back in the dorms, they've interacted after Iida's confession, and they both have acted like nothing has changed.

Maybe nothing has.

They were always relatively gentle with each other, even just as friends. It's not as if they've changed the definition of what they are now, but the two of them have been less cagey about their feelings lately. They spend mornings together in the dorm's kitchen, relatively empty of the rest of their class, in silence that doesn't feel awkward or anti-social.

Just being in each other's presence seems to be enough.

During those mornings, Iida watches him carefully and Shouto watches right back. When either of them has had a nightmare, they sit closer together, shoulder-to-shoulder. If they talk about it, it's in the solitude of either of their rooms, in quiet tones just above a whisper. What they are is not loud or large, that's not who either of them are.

Whenever they've stopped talking about what plagues them at night, Iida reads a book from his collection and Shouto works on his letter under the guise of schoolwork. It's peaceful and serene, and it almost feels like Shouto's gotten everything he's ever wanted, if only what they were was made clearer than it is now.

In the present, two knocks come from Shouto's door, and that wonderful murmur of Iida's voice comes through the wall.

"I'm here, can I come in?"

Shouto wonders why he even asks, but leaves it off to Iida's punctualness that he never seems to let go of, "Go ahead."

The door opens gently and Shouto turns over in his futon to look at the boy he's fallen so deeply for. Iida must have been in the middle of training or something like it, considering that he's in the dark blue cloth suit for his hero costume. Shouto's sure he looks like hell, if Iida's increasingly concerned face is anything to go by.

Taking off his boots, Iida slowly makes his way over to Shouto and crouches by his side, a gloved hand being placed on his blanket-covered shoulder. Slowly, the hand begins to smooth over his arm, the touch feeling so nice that Shouto can't help but hum and rest his eyes.

"Do you need me to get you anything?" Iida speaks so tenderly that Shouto wants the sound of it to consume him.

Shouto responds, tired and quiet, "Ibuprofen?"

The hand on his arm keeps caressing him, and Iida speaks calmly, "Alright, I can get that for you. Is it still in your second drawer?"

"Yeah," Shouto responds, and watches as Iida gets up and walks over to the shorter dresser.

It doesn't take long for Iida to find the Ibuprofen, opening the top of the pill bottle and shaking out three softgels. He puts the pill bottle back and closes the drawer, then walks over to Shouto's desk, where a teacup of room-temperature water sits. 

Iida takes the cup and walks back to where Shouto lies on his futon, slowly kneeling on the floor before he puts a palm on the back of Shouto's neck. He slowly lifts Shouto's head and helps him put the pills in his mouth and swallow them with water. Surprisingly, it doesn't feel as shameful as Shouto thought.

He just feels taken care of.

Iida places the cup to the side, close enough to retrieve it if it's needed again, before he eases Shouto's head back to the pillow. He slips his hand out from under Shouto's neck, taking his gloves off and shifting one hand under two-toned bangs. 

"What does your bracelet say?" Iida asks softly.

Shouto lifts his arm for Iida to check, and Iida uses his other hand to hold his wrist like a delicate flower. Shouto watches as his face turns slightly sour, and immediately knows that it's not a good sign.

"That's too low..." Iida whispers, before turning to Shouto and moving his hand off his forehead, "95.3. What were you at before I got here?"

Shouto feels more drowsy now, probably because of Iida's safe presence. Even as he speaks, he's slurring a bit, "95.8."

Iida hums, but it doesn't sound good. He sounds conflicted, as if he's debating making a choice. He looks around Shouto's room, searching for an answer somewhere in plain sight, and his eyes land back on Shouto's heterochromatic irises instead.

Shouto clarifies sleepily, "Don't need to go to the hospital. Not in hypothermia range yet."

"I'm still going to call your doctor. I need to know how to care for you correctly." Iida says, a worried hand fixed on Shouto's bicep.

Shouto nods into his pillow sluggishly and mourns the loss of contact when Iida pulls away to use his phone. He watches as Iida holds his phone up to his ear and slowly takes off the coat layer of his hero suit, leaving him in the turtleneck layer of his costume.

Shouto is a little too out of it to understand everything that goes on in the following conversation between Iida and Shouto's doctor, but he can hear the attentiveness in Iida's tone as he listens to each instruction he's given.

Iida puts the phone between his shoulders and his cheek as he folds up his coat and places it near his boots. Shouto can hear him speak gently into the phone, and realizes that Iida is keeping his voice low for Shouto's sake.

"Alright, and if that happens, I turn him on his side, correct?" Iida speaks into the phone, and Shouto figures that they're talking about potential seizures.

There's an electronic murmur in the voice of his doctor from the other side, and Iida immediately hums in an affirmative tone. When he gets up from his crouching position, he turns over to Shouto's desk and finds paper to write with, taking notes on whatever Shouto's doctor tells him.

Shouto watches him as if he's the sun and the stars, and wonders why he ever thought that Iida's love for him would ever fade from something like this.

Iida has seen Shouto at his lowest, covered in burn wounds and ice shards on the battlefield of his brother's making. Iida propelled himself into limits that he'd never pushed himself to with his quirk, just to further Shouto's happiness and ease the hardship placed on his shoulders.

Iida shouted words of meaningfulness as Shouto ran straight towards a possible death, making sure that he knew how he impacted Iida's life. He was so honest, so utterly raw, that Shouto felt the words carve open a spot for Iida in his heart.

Iida fits right in, a missing piece of Shouto's life that he didn't think he'd ever find.

Even as loopiness takes over most of Shouto's consciousness, he watches Iida hang up the phone and turn to smile at him, and feels his heart beat a little bit steadier. Iida gets up from the Zaisu chair by his desk and moves back over to Shouto, sitting on the floor next to him and putting his strong hand back on Shouto's arm.

Somehow, the hand feels more confident, as if he's become sure of something in the time that passed during the call with Shouto's doctor.

"Your doctor said that sleep is a good idea," Iida moves his hand through Shouto's hair, fond and delicate, "He also said that it's a good idea to share body heat. I was... unsure how you'd feel about that sort of thing."

It's at that moment that Shouto realizes why Iida seems a bit different. He was at Shouto's desk. He saw the letter, saw the crossed-out words and mistakes in the drafts, he probably saw the discarded letters in the trash can as well.

Shouto's been working on the letters at his desk for so long that he forgot to put them away. He didn't think he'd have such a sudden flare-up either, seeing as his temperature has been relatively steady ever since he returned to the dorms.

Considering the very revealing and vulnerable things Shouto wrote in the letter, he'd thought that Iida would've wanted to talk about it immediately, to discuss it like the logical and practical person he is. But, no, he's sticking to caring for Shouto, caressing his hair like he's a precious thing to be protected.

Ah. Shouto wants to give this boy his soul.

Shouto leans to sit up in his futon and stretches out a hand to Iida, who instantly helps him get up. There's so much fatigue and pain in Shouto's body that it's hard to even consider walking at this point, but he still wants to get his point across. Iida firmly squeezes his slightly pale hand, looking so distressed that it makes Shouto's heart ache with guilt.

It takes Shouto a solid minute to get together the pieces of his muddled mind before he finally gathers the words he wants to say. He lifts his hand with hesitation as it nears Iida's face, before sucking up any anxiety he's had about this situation, and he places his cold palm on the other boy's face.

"You saw the letter." 

It's said in such a tender tone that he thought no one could ever bring from his lips, but it doesn't surprise Shouto anymore, that Iida Tenya is forever the one who brings this side of him to the surface.

Iida's face heats and Shouto is almost sure that his cold skin on warm cheeks is uncomfortable, but Iida bears it for his sake. Iida lifts his hand to cover Shouto's chilly one and speaks softly after a moment of pausing.

"Yes. Yes, I did." It's breathless, even with that small, reluctant smile on his face.

Shouto caresses his thumb under Iida's stark, red eyes, and finds himself anxiously speaking in a warbling smile, "What did you... think?"

Iida's resulting smile is a beaming ray of light in dark mornings, along with the gentle tears that prickle at the corners of his eyes. Shouto finds himself surrounded by an embrace he's longed for since he was discharged from the hospital, gripping the soft fabric of Iida's hero suit as quickly as two strong arms squeeze him.

"I thought," Iida starts, voice choked with a smile and damp eyes, as he begins to chuckle with euphoria, "I thought, 'I am the luckiest hero in this messed-up world.'"

Shouto finds himself rubbing his forehead against Iida's neck, feeling Iida tugging the blankets further around his body, still mindful of Shouto's temperature. It makes him huff with amusement into the crook of Iida's neck as they get comfortable, with Iida moving them to lie down on Shouto's futon.

Once they've settled in, Iida continues to talk, his voice vibrating in his chest. The sound of it makes Shouto's slight headache dissipate in mere seconds.

"I have never wanted anything as badly as I do you," Iida whispers, snuggling closer against Shouto's soft hair, "To have your trust is a gift I've worked very hard to deserve."

Shouto adjusts as Iida slowly turns them, finding himself cradled in a tender hold against Iida's firm chest. Their legs are tangled underneath layers of blankets, and if Shouto's hand slips to intertwine their fingers next to his face, neither of them mentions the motion.

Iida continues, his head pillowed against Shouto's bedding, "I didn't want to overwhelm you, your body has been through enough today."

Shouto speaks just above a whisper, "I'm not overwhelmed. Not by you, Iida."

Shouto feels the Iida's shuddering breath against his body, the movement lifting Shouto at his spot, up and down.

Iida speaks in a wavering voice, emotional and relieved, "I'm glad."

There's a moment of silence that Shouto allows, seeing as Iida's heart begins to beat faster underneath Shouto's ear against his chest. There's hesitation in Iida's movements, even as they get comfortable in the pitter-pattering rain they can hear from the balcony not too far from the both of them.

Small and hesitant, the other boy speaks, "Just 'Tenya' is fine, by the way."

When Shouto processes the words, he smiles and nods against Tenya's pounding chest, "Alright, Tenya."

Shouto can't explain his feelings as anything other than safety. With Tenya's breathing not too far from earshot, the steady beat of his heart underneath his chest, and the arms curled around Shouto's achy body, he feels more at home with him than anywhere else.

He's heard other people speak about the way that their lover feels like their home, that, wherever they are, they'll be home. He never understood that feeling until now. After all, people do tend to romanticize everything about relationships, but he hadn't known the feelings were so real.

When Tenya and Shouto first became friends, Shouto thought the boy was a bit odd. His robotic sort of motions, his formality, and plenty of other things about him puzzled Shouto, but, at the heart of it, Shouto thought he was kind.

At every turn of suffering, Tenya was there, telling him he could do it, he didn't have to go through it alone, and he would be alright.

It's one of the reasons he felt so helpless on the night that Tenya went after Stain. When he made it to the scene, he thought Tenya was dead, and the pure weight of that misunderstanding made Shouto's body feel a hundred times heavier.

He only felt like he could breathe when he heard Tenya yelling at Midoriya to leave things alone, to stop protecting him.

Shouto wanted to go after Stain for hurting Tenya, but he realized that was exactly how Tenya ended up in this situation. He told Tenya to look at himself properly, to see what he wanted to be, and he had no idea the words would end up affecting Tenya so deeply.

Shouto had no idea that they were important enough that Tenya felt like he needed to scream them right back at Shouto, to tell him that the words were worth everything to him.

He heard later, from his mother, that Tenya visited him in the hospital in the early days of healing from their war injuries. Shouto was still out cold and in a temporary, medically-induced coma, because of the effect his ice had on his body. When he woke up, still groggy and on a ridiculous amount of pain meds, his mother spoke to him.

"He cherishes you," His mother had said, holding onto his hand as he lay in his hospital bed, "He fell asleep, the poor thing. I had to wake him up, so he didn't bother his injuries."

He remembers feeling a flutter in his chest at her words, explaining how Tenya had pulled up a chair and held onto his hand and forearm like a husband does for their sick partner. His mother had told him to keep Tenya around, to invite him over for dinner eventually, considering that she hadn't met enough of Shouto's friends.

Friends. Well. Now, Tenya has a different status.

From where they lay, together in domestic bliss, Shouto presses a kiss to the hand near his lips, long and tender as he can be. He feels Tenya's breath shudder from above him and rests his head against the firm chest beneath him.

Tenya holds him closer, adjusting and pulling Shouto upwards to kiss his forehead. They end up with Shouto's elbows resting on the pillow beside either side of Tenya's head, staring down at him like he's opened the gates to the whole world.

Tenya reaches a hand up to Shouto's scarred cheek, thumb gently passing over the wrinkled skin near his lazy eye. Shouto's bangs tickle Tenya's skin as they drape over his face like a curtain, and Shouto sees a universe in Tenya's gentle gaze.

Tenya whispers as the distance between their faces seems to lessen with each passing moment, "I'd like to be your partner. If you'll have me."

Shouto melts, each of his limbs feeling like jelly at how weak each word makes him. He'd never dreamed of being able to have a boyfriend so loving, and so reliable, and he finds it a little silly that Tenya thought he would say no.

He slips an arm underneath Tenya's head, his fingers gently pushing away Tenya's bangs and removing his glasses, putting them off to the side. Tenya stares at him like he's the dazzling star that lights up the night, and it takes everything in Shouto's impulse control not to immediately kiss him breathless.

Shouto takes a deep breath, before leaning down and placing the softest of kisses on Tenya's cheek. He closes his eyes, feeling the warmth underneath his lips and the pinkness of Tenya's flushing face.

Before he can even think about Tenya's reaction to this open act of affection, he leans down and hugs his body, hiding his face in the pillow next to Tenya's head. Shouto's face burns with red and his heart feels like he's just run a mile, and his mind is no longer thinking of his cold temperature.

"I'd never say no." Shouto's voice is muffled into the pillow as he speaks, only loud enough for Iida to hear.

Squeezing into the hug, he can feel the moment Tenya's stunned arms turn to softness and wrap around him. There's a quiet lull for a moment before, with bated breath, Tenya responds. 

"You're sure about this?" He asks, his hands gripping the fabric of Shouto's sweater.

Shouto nods his head against the pillow, still a bit scared of making eye contact and feeling too timid because of those mesmerizing shades of red. He worries that, if he saw those eyes he's already spent enough time thinking about, he'd lose all the confidence he gathered up even just to confess.

The blankets shift, hands tighten, and there's a nuzzle against his face before a beautiful noise erupts from Tenya's mouth.

Shouto turns his head in surprise and watches as Tenya's expression turns to quiet, giddy giggling, that soft sound making Shouto's heart soar to the sky. Tenya's eyes are closed, his eyebrows furrowed together in joy, and he still tries to keep his lips together to suppress the winding melody.

Shouto finds himself smiling as well, confused but content to see such a joyful expression on Tenya's face.

"What are you laughing about?" Shouto questions, tapping a finger against the forehead his hand rests on.

Tenya opens his eyes and looks at Shouto with so much fondness that he feels it strike his heart, "I'm just happy."

Shouto thinks that's just it.

There's no complicated, conflicting past between them, there are no grudges, and there's nothing negative they could ever truly mean about the other. It's so simple, being loved and loving in return. It's an equal exchange, and even if there were difficulties, Shouto doesn't think it would end up destroyed. 

With Tenya's strong hands over him and through his hair, the both of them in layered blankets to keep Shouto warm, limbs tangled together in a mess of precious feelings, there's nothing Shouto can think of that's better than this. To have his feelings returned in this way, so gentle and kind like he's never felt, it's almost like his dreams jumped into reality to greet him.

They just are, settled comfortably in the way they adore each other.

And Shouto thinks that's enough for him. Enough for him to laugh back and smile while he says, with his full chest,

"I love you."