Ice Cold

Forget

We'll live. A quiet repetition by the little voice in your head that represented your optimism. Perhaps that was why it sounded like a child.

You stared at your mirror, at your no longer hardened face while the rest of your classmates now had seen the things that you saw when you were small.

Destruction.

Anguish.

Death.

It felt cruel for your face to seem on the brighter side of neutral while those who once smiled often seemed conflicted to even do that.

You traced your hand over your face, where most had remnants of the folds in their skin when they smiled, frowned, cowered, while your skin remained blank.

"Do you need any help?" Shouto asked, finally stepping into the room after he decided that he had waited to long.

"No. I made the outfit, Sho." You watched him walk up behind you in the mirror. "Is something troubling you?"

"I meant that question in general." He put his head on your shoulder, meeting your eyes in your reflection. "Do you need any help?"

"That's a random question."

"No it isn't. You were just staring at yourself when I walked in."

You raised your brows, unamused by his observation, and sighed. "I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't think I need help, but you seem to."

He broke eye contact and began scanning the figure of your reflection, from your crossed arms to your shifting feet. "Do you remember... back in the camp?"

"What do you want me to remember?"

"When I got you food and you gave the plate back to me. You didn't actually eat it, did you?"

You thought for a moment, trying to recall the memory, although it was overshadowed by the events that occurred at camp. "I... didn't. Have you been thinking about that this whole time?"

"I worried about it, yeah. You'd be fine eating mochi and instant noodles but your plate smelled like you just burnt the food to ashes and gave me the empty plate. Why didn't you eat it?"

You hummed, not really answering his question.

"Y/N."

"It's not anything involving my ability to eat, trust me." You turned you head and kissed his forehead in reassurance.

While his gaze softened, it didn't lose his worry. His eyes asked, "Are you sure?" while the arms that began wrapping around your waist told you that he wouldn't trust your answer anyway.

You sighed, this time in defeat.

It felt wrong hiding things from Shouto now.

"My father wanted it gone. He was planning on sending out the attack on the camp soon, but he worried that I was getting too close to Class 1A and believed that I'd fight against them." You shrugged. "But that was a long time ago. I eat fine."

"So that's what would happen every time you'd suddenly have trouble breathing or you'd get fevers?"

"More or less. Like I said, a long time ago."

You moved away from him and put your hands on his cheeks, rubbing your thumb across his scar. "You worry a lot. But you'd never let me worry about you, would you?"

"I wouldn't want you to feel that way."

"Precisely. So don't feel that way for me." One more time, you kissed his forehead. "I feel the same."