Count to Ten

Prologue

"I have an intense case of mysophobia. I don't like contact with things that I haven't disinfected myself. I wear gloves and three-piece suits. I wear shoes that I can scrub. I keep my hair as manageable as I possibly can. No one is allowed in my cell because the last time someone went in..." Izuku paused. He couldn't remember the rest. They didn't tell him. He blacked out like he so often did and there was nothing else to be said. 

"Do you not recall what happened next? Or, are you too afraid to explain it? There is no judgment here, Izuku," Shouto assured. Izuku didn't know what he didn't know. All he knew was what he knew. 

"I don't know what happened after that." 

"Do you know when your mysophobia started?" Shouto asked. Izuku flinched. Ah, yeah, here we go. He would have to explain this again. Superheroes don't exist in this world, only in comics. That's why he was here. Villains did, though, and they were numerous: criminals. So, how was he supposed to explain that he was a superhero? If they don't exist? 

"I have a quirk," Izuku exhaled a large amount of air. He needed to calm down if he was going to explain this again. "All Might gave me a quirk. I was quirkless. But he gave me a quirk, you see? I have one. I do. I'm a superhero," he stopped. He stopped talking. He had to calm down. Inhale. Exhale. "It was transferred by D.N.A. I can't touch people. I don't know how the quirk works. What if they get my D.N.A. and then they get my quirk? I was quirkless. I need my quirk. I need it, I'm a superhero, after all," Izuku began scratching his inner arm. There were scars and scabs from all of his scratching. This topic was a sensitive one. No one believed him. No one did. He hated explaining something no one believed. But, he couldn't lie. He wasn't a liar. Never. 

"Do you believe me, Shouto?" he found himself asking. There was a small twinge of hope that maybe Shouto would believe him. He didn't know why, but he felt he could trust this man even though they'd just met. It must be the hair. Yes, the hair. What else could it be? That perfectly parted hair was totally trustworthy. 

"If you don't mind," Shouto brought his clipboard to the table. He placed it down and picked up his pen. "I would like you to list ten things that you would like to accomplish in order to help assist you through your mysophobia. Number one being the easiest and number ten being the most impossible." 

He didn't answer the question. Izuku frowned. Why didn't he answer the question? Prior people that tried to counsel him always answered the question. They lied and they lied saying they believed him, and then they told him he was insane at the end of it all. Why didn't he answer? Izuku needed to know if he was a liar. 

"Are you going to answer my question?" Izuku frowned. He had a piece of paper, he was going to list the ten things and then lift it up, but he needed to know the answer to his question first. It would bug him all day if he didn't know the answer.

Shouto placed his pen down and looked up at Izuku. Nonchalantly, coldly, but a twinge of truth, "If I answer your question, are you going to believe me? Or are you going to call me a liar like the rest?" Izuku frowned. What? He wasn't a misbeliever! He was a believer! Izuku believed in people! Of course he would belie- oh. No, no he wasn't. He was a liar. Izuku was the liar. He didn't believe in anyone. How strange.

Izuku picked up the pen and tried to think of things he could and couldn't accomplish. (He needed to stop thinking about the fact that he was a liar.) Getting over his mysophobia hadn't seemed possible. He never thought about what it would be like if he could live a carefree life. There was this overarching feeling of disgust following him everywhere. The feeling of coming into contact with bacteria, of becoming unclean, and of making others unclean. He hated it. Would there ever be a time when he could become free of it? Izuku didn't think it possible...but maybe with the help of Shouto it could be. After all, Shouto had enlightened him already and it was their first conversation. 

"Finished?" Shouto asked when Izuku put the pen down. Izuku picked up the list and held it to the glass barrier. Shouto copied the list down. Oh. His handwriting is nice. Nice and neat. Perfect. Ah, Izuku was loving him more and more. Love? No, he just liked Shouto. Love? Love is weird. 

 "You didn't list a number ten. Why is that?" Shouto asked. 

Izuku's cheeks turned a bit red. "I didn't want to write it. It's a bit...intimate."

"I see," Shouto put the list neatly on his clipboard. "I will help you accomplish everything on this list. We can take it one step at a time. There is no need to pressure yourself to do any one of these things. Please remember that," Shouto explained. He stood up, grabbed his mug, and forced the chair under the table. He turned on his heel and glided out of the room, "That concludes today's session," he said, as the door closed.

Izuku didn't want it to end so early. Now he would be forced to go back to his lonely cell life without anything to entertain him. It was boring. He longed for contact. For human interaction. Granted, he missed being touched but his mysophobia won out each time. It was awful. The worst. But, would it get any better? 

"Shouto is nice," Izuku admitted aloud. "He is so, so nice," he giggled, swinging his feet back and forth on the chair. The demon lurking within him that he refused to acknowledge appeared in the glass. 

"Ah," his voice cold, "but is he really nice? I want to torture him and find out just how nice he really is," the demon, Deku, snickered.