When I'm With Them, I'm Free

Chapter Twenty-Six: Love Is Strange, Too

warning: violence

AHH THIS FIC IS COMING TO AN END. it's a happy one, i promise.

—

The unspoken questions on Midoriya's lips seemed to follow you the same way his eyes had.

You could see the whispers of them, the light frequency of their sound reverberating carefully in your ears. They called out to you, followed you when you went into the common room, meeting eyes with him. He would always look like he had something to say, a question to ask.

It was the same during class. Sometimes you could feel his eyes on you and look at him. It was also subconscious, like the words on his lips seemed to be.

You could only hide from them when you and Shoto were alone. You weren't sure why it was only possible when you were with him, but you at least knew that hanging out in Ashido's room wouldn't stop someone from interrupting you both, beckoning you both to the common rooms you knew Midoriya would linger in.

Still, Shoto was in your room, your head resting on his lap as you stared silently at the ceiling. It was late at night. Not late enough that all your classmates were asleep, or enough that you had to be quiet. It was the weekend, and most of them were still up, the sounds of their chatter was instant under you and all around you; most of them were in the room under you, apparently.

The navy, darkening sky was visible from your window. Rays of the blueish color were spilling onto your exposed legs, most of the dim lighting in your room emitting from the open bathroom.

Sitting up, you proposed that Shoto and you should do something. You never specified exactly what. You were bored and anything seemed like a blessing in that moment. You wanted to do something, even though a part of you enjoyed the comfortable silence that covered you in a warm blanket.

"I'm not good at these things," he said after a moment of silence and staring at the floor beside him. "I don't know how to come up with a fun game like you."

You moved in a way that sat you near him, on your calves. One leg was stretching out towards the edge of the bed, but you still reached up and put your hand in his hair. You moved the dual-colored bangs out of eyes, pushing them back until the shorter pieces fell back onto his forehead. You ran your fingers through his hair for another moment, mixing some of his locks to the side until you began to fix it, laughing a bit.

Your face was at his level, and he watched you as you brought another hand to his head. It cupped his cooler cheek, and he rested himself in your palm. Shoto's eyes closed and you ran your short fingernails through his red and white locks. Some vermillion strands crossed onto the blank side, making some of his hair look a pink hue.

After a moment of fixing such a small problem, you glanced at the boy. His eyes were gently closed and his lips were upturned. His nostrils flared for a millisecond and his eyelashes twitched, like he was trying to keep his face still.

"Look, [Name]," Shoto said to you as you placed the remaining hand on his warm cheek. His eyes opened at that, but only for a second before he squeezed them closed. "I'm sleeping," he smiled.

"Wow, I didn't know the one and only Shoto Todoroki could fall asleep so fast," you said with amusement in your tone. It was that same childishness, that same undeniable oblivion you noticed he always had; the humor of a five-year-old, the insanity to understand what an actual joke was or how to make one.

The same quality to him that told you he was shielded as a child, hidden from certain, enjoyable moments in life that would've taught him sarcasm and jokes and how to understand when someone is kidding and when they weren't.