Chapter Text
“If tomorrow starts without me, and I’m not here to see,
If the sun should rise and you find your eyes all filled with tears for me.”
-Trey Pendley (If Tomorrow Starts Without Me)
No one in class 2-A knew that Todoroki Shouto was going to die in five months.
Shouto didn’t know when the appropriate time to tell them would be, let alone what exactly he would say. It’s not like he could just go up to his classmates during lunch one day and declare, “ I have an incurable illness and the doctors say that I only have twenty two weeks left to live. Oh and by the way, the katsudon today is great, isn’t it?”
He knows he owes it to them after all they’ve been through together. They’ve supported him through everything, even when the entire world was against him. They forgave him for being cold and distant at the start of the year, befriending him like he was one of theirs. They never made fun of him for being oblivious of trending topics and unaware of slang, patiently explaining things to him so he wouldn’t feel left out.
They never even blamed him for Dabi and his actions, even though Shouto never once stopped blaming himself.
After all that, Shouto doesn’t know why he still hesitates now when it comes to this.
Personally, he doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal. He has always maintained the position that life would have been better for everyone if he had never been born, knowing deep down that his family could’ve been happier, that Mom would still be home and Touya would never have gone astray. Him leaving the picture would only make things better.
He doesn’t mind dying.
Even though Shouto has never actively made plans, there was something sinister at the back of his mind always, a quiet voice present since he was freshly blind in one eye at the tender age of five, telling him that he didn’t deserve to be here any longer. It had gotten so bad last year that Shouto had firmly made the intention not to step out of the way of a stray quirk if it was heading his way, a perfect way to go out while in the middle of battle so his family wouldn’t grieve over him too much.
In a way, Shouto is grateful that the decision has been taken out of his hands. For him, it’s a source of great relief.
He doesn’t dare try and mention any of this to Aizawa Sensei, knowing that if the man caught even a whiff of the kinds of thoughts he’s been having, Shouto would be in therapy faster than he could say, “My life has always been purposeless since I was created solely for the fulfillment of my father’s desires and I don’t actually plan on killing myself but if it does end up happening, I’ll only be grateful.”
For some reason, he has the feeling that the rest of the class wouldn’t see it that way, which is why he doesn’t want to tell them. He doesn’t know how they’ll react and the thought of them crowding around him and demanding an explanation scares him.
He says as much to Aizawa Sensei when he’s lying down on the lumpy couch in the teacher’s lounge during lunch later that week, clutching a trash can close to his chest as nausea rolls in his stomach while praying he doesn’t throw up his meager breakfast of half a toast and ginger tea.
The smells of the cafeteria were too strong most days for him to spend the period with his friends, the scents and sight of the heavy foods causing him to retch miserably until he left to get some fresh air.
He knows that many people from the class have noticed his absence but none of them have pushed for an answer or an explanation yet. Frankly, it’s a miracle that they haven't tracked him down. It’s not like the beginning of last year where he could be on the roof the whole school day and no one would be the wiser. People actually notice when he’s missing now and it’s a pain in the ass.
“They’re just worried about you and unsure what to do about it,” Aizawa absentmindedly says to him as he flips over the paper he’s been grading. There’s a frown on his face and even from a distance, Shouto can see the paper is miraculously more red than white. It must definitely be Kaminari’s, then. “You’ll have to tell them eventually, kid.”
He doesn’t say it but it’s obvious to both of them that Shouto’s time is running out. With how rapidly his condition is deteriorating, there’s no way the class won’t find out eventually. He gets why it would be better to tell them sooner rather than later and on his own terms rather than through something that’s out of his hands.
But the problem is that he hasn’t told anyone yet.
Even his own family has no idea about his diagnosis even though it’s been days . Aizawa sensei only found out because his doctor had required him to talk to the school nurse about the logistics of his treatment, and then Recovery Girl had felt it necessary to tell his homeroom teacher so he could be excused from class if needed. Aizawa had then told Present Mic but only as a precaution just in case something happened and Aizawa wasn’t around to help.
But that was it. Even his own mother didn’t know.
“I don’t want to deal with all the attention yet,” Shouto mutters, clutching the container tighter to his chest as his stomach lurches suddenly. Him and Aizawa’s trashcan have been incredibly and intimately acquainted by now, to the point that Shouto jokingly thinks that they ought to have shared custody over it by now. “I know if they found out they’d-”
He doesn’t finish his sentence but when he looks at Aizawa he can see that he understands.
That’s the thing with Sensei. Him and Shouto are so alike sometimes that he won’t even have to say anything for Aizawa to just get it.
It’s great for the days when he doesn’t feel like talking because Sensei will just know but on the other hand, he doesn’t even have the courtesy of hiding something even if he wanted to because Aizawa will already k now .
“You can tell them when you’re ready, kid,” Aizawa says softly, putting down his pen so he can lean over his desk slightly and make eye contact. “Whenever that may be.”
Aizawa is big on that, Shouto’s noticed, on bending down or crouching so he’s on your level and then meeting your eye. Shouto looks away because he can’t bear to see how gentle those dark eyes are all while looking at him of all people.
He doesn’t deserve it.
Instead of replying, he slouches down against the couch and stays quiet.
Sighing, Aizawa picks his red pen back up and turns back to their tests. “Drink the protein shake I gave you, please,” he says, gesturing vaguely in his direction with one hand without even looking up. ”I know you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
Shouto immediately pulls a face.
He hates everything about these drinks with a passion, the slimy and congulated texture, the artificially sickening sweetener. The inevitable association to his nausea because he only ever has these when he feels like throwing up.
The doctor had told him to buy a whole case of these miserable things, instructing him to take one anytime he couldn’t keep down food.
“You can’t afford to lose any more weight,” he had said, flipping the bottle over so he could show Shouto the nutritional label like he wasn’t capable of reading it on his own. “These are filled with carbs, protein, vitamins, everything you need if you get too nauseous to eat.”
From his spot at the desk, Aizawa comments lightly, “I’m not letting you back into class until you finish that,” probably upon seeing the disgusted look on Shouto’s face. “You still have twenty minutes. Take your time.”
Shouto knows by now that Sensei isn’t joking in the least and the last thing he wants right now is to be stuck in the teacher’s lounge for the rest of the day. Reluctantly, he grabs the bottle and twists the cap open, just staring down at the brown liquid for a long while.
It takes all of his courage to bring it up to his lips.
He’s only taken in a few mouthfuls before his stomach lurches dangerously and he’s diving for the trash can. Thankfully, he doesn’t throw up but the force of his retching nearly brings tears to his eyes.
“I can’t,” he croaks, and even as he says it he knows Sensei will still make him drink more.
“It’s fine. Take your time,” Aizawa says, getting up and coming around his desk so he can put an arm around Shouto. The warmth of the embrace is too comforting not to lean into it and the boy lets himself slump against the heat exhaustively.
“Maybe you should stay and rest in the dorms for a bit,” Aizawa mutters against his hair, and he isn’t even finished talking before Shouto is shaking his head.
“I want to go back to class,” he whispers even though he’s feeling like crap. He himself doesn’t even know why he needs to go back to normalcy so badly, why putting on a front is so important to him. He just doesn’t want the class wondering where he’s went, chasing him down and asking after him and-
…And caring.
He doesn’t want them to care .
“Just relax for now, okay?” Aizawa murmurs, running a hand over Shouto’s back. “We have time until lunch ends. If you’re feeling better by then, you can go to class.”
Shouto nods tiredly and closes his eyes, sinking deeper against the warmth and preparing himself for a miserable time.
After all that, he still doesn’t end up going.
Sometime after Aizawa had said that, Shouto had choked down half of his drink and then had unwillingly fallen asleep.
When he had woken a little while later, Aizawa had already gone to class and Present Mic was at the desk doing paperwork instead.
“Hey, little listener,” Mic had smiled when he saw him blinking awake blearily and said softly, incredibly quiet from someone who regularly got told off for being too loud. “Shouta had to leave but he said you could come to class if you’re feeling better now.”
“I’m going back to the dorms,” Shouto had replied, aching all over and somehow more exhausted than when he had fallen asleep. Showing up late to class now would be even worse than not showing up at all, and besides, he was so incredibly tired.
“I’ll let Shouta know,” Mic said and when Shouto had gotten up to leave, quickly stopped him before he could leave the doorway. “Oh, and take that with you, would you?”
Shouto had turned around and seen Mic pointing to the half-finished bottle on the table. Reluctantly, Shouto had grabbed it and then began the long trek back to the dorms.
The walk exhausted more than it should have so he had collapsed straight on his bed the moment he got to his room and fallen asleep yet again.
He wakes a few hours later to the sound of his phone buzzing, vibrating by his ear annoyingly. Shouto just lies there on his bed for a long minute, looking as the screen lights up the dark room with a call from Midoriya, half feeling like he could fall asleep again.
Then he gets the thought that Midoriya will get even more worried and possibly storm up here to kick his door down just to make sure he’s okay and that’s enough to get him to pick up the phone.
“… Todoroki-kun?”
“Midoriya,” Shouto sighs, stumbling to his feet so he can pull on a jacket. It’s freezing cold, his teeth close to chattering and goosebumps rising on his skin.
He never used to have a problem with the cold before, or the heat either for that matter. Nowadays, it’s a miracle if he can go even a few hours without pulling on a sweater.
“ Are you alright, Todoroki-kun? You didn’t come for lunch or class. We were worried.”
Of course they were worried. Shouto didn’t know why he would ever expect anything less.
“I’m fine, Midoriya. I think I’m coming down with something is all,” he responds lightly, knowing and dreading that any second now Midoriya will call him down to eat.
Sure enough, he hears, “ We’re having dinner now if you want to come down. For some reason, Kacchan said we’re having ramen even though he hates making it.”
His stomach flips just at the thought of food but he knows he needs to eat something. The half finished protein shake is still by his bed and Shouto is more than tempted to just throw it away. Soup sounds a little more palatable going down than the sugary sludge he’d been choking down otherwise.
“I’ll be down soon,” he tells Midoriya, pulling the phone away from his ear as the other boy starts rambling about what he missed in class that day.
He’s still talking by the time Shouto exits the elevator and from his spot by the door, he can see Midoriya sitting on the couch chatting on his phone. Just to be a shit, he stands in front of him silently and stares at Midoriya with the phone in his hand until the green haired boy coincidentally looks up a little while later and finally meets his eyes.
Midoriya’s face turns brilliantly red and he starts sputtering like a stalling engine, one hand mushing random buttons on his phone to hang up the call they’re still on. “T-Todoroki-kun!! H-how long were you standing there?!”
“Not that long,” Shouto smiles slightly, pocketing his phone.
“Don’t be such a brat, Icyhot,” Bakugou yells from the kitchen, clearly having seen whatever transpired between them, but Shouto can hear the grin in his voice and knows he’s just as amused as him. “And tell Deku to stop being lazy and get over here!”
Midoriya, face still red, obediently jumps up from his spot on the couch and grabs Shouto by the elbow, leading him to the kitchen even though he’s fully capable of walking himself. When they walk in, they see Bakugou chopping carrots as a broth bubbles on the stove, bowls already laid out for serving.
“Where the hell have you been?” Bakugou scowls up at Shouto, hands somehow still cutting the carrots in perfect slices even though he’s not even looking. “You should’ve fucking told someone if you’re coming down with something, you stupid half and half candycane.”
Shouto retorts, “I didn’t know it was something I had to announce to everyone,” and it only now occurs to him that maybe the reason Bakugou was making ramen was just because he knew Shouto wasn’t feeling well.
“Fuck off!” Bakugou yells but there’s a tinge of red on his cheeks. He pushes the carrots to the side and angrily grabs a bowl, slamming it down on the counter so hard that Shouto is sure something has cracked. He begins to ladle a generous serving of ramen but Shouto comes up by his elbow and stops him before he can.
“Oh, I just want the soup, Bakugou.”
The comment earns him a hard glare, and Bakugou pointedly puts in an extra serving of vegetables and shoves the bowl in his hands. “You're gonna eat the damn noodles and you’re gonna like it too, Icyhot! You look like a fucking skeleton, for fuck’s sake.”
Shouto looks down at the giant serving and feels his stomach churn. There’s no way he can finish all of this. “Bakugou…”
“Just eat as much as you can,” Bakugou interrupts, and then his voice loses a little of that rough edge and something in his eyes softens just slightly. “How the hell am I supposed to beat you to number one when you won’t even take care of yourself?”
You won’t have to beat me because I won’t even be here, Shouto thinks but he can’t say that out loud so he meekly nods.
Midoriya joins him at the table a few moments later with his own bowl, glancing over worriedly when he sees Shouto playing idly with his food. “Aren’t you going to eat?” He asks in a loud whisper, leaning over with his green eyes wide with concern.
Under the scrutiny of that intense gaze, Shouto doesn’t think he can ignore Midoriya’s request. He spoons a small bite of broth and brings it up to his mouth, trying to ignore the way Midoriya is staring at him.
The broth is surprisingly bland for something that Bakugou has made, someone who habitually upends the whole spice cabinet in his cooking, but it goes down more easily than he was expecting. The vegetables are also very soft and require barely any chewing, something that Shouto realized early on required more energy than he had these days.
When Bakugou finally joins them, he looks pleased to see that Shouto has finished a little more than half his bowl. “Is that all you’re eating?” He demands, and when Shouto nods, he adds with a huff, “I’ll pack the rest away for later then. Make sure you finish it before you go to bed, Icyhot.”
“Okay, Bakugou,” Shouto concedes amusedly, content to just sit back and watch as Midoriya and Bakugou bicker as they eat. More of their classmates filter in, talking loudly and scattering throughout the living room.
“Roki!” Sero yells loudly, making his way over while waving his hands wildly to make sure he’s been seen. He leans in close over the table, eyes concerned. “We missed you in class today! Hope everything’s okay with you, man. It’s not the same without you there.”
Bakugou shoves a hand over Sero’s face and pushes him back, tiny explosions popping in his hands. “Oi, back the fuck off, Tape Face! He said he’s just fucking coming down with something!”
Sero looks between them with wide eyes, raising his hands in surrender as he backs off a little until Bakugou stops glaring at him. “Oops! Sorry, I didn’t know. Hope you’re feeling better now!”
Thinking about it, Shouto decides that yes, actually, he does feel a bit better. He knows that eating nothing all day aside from half a toast and a protein shake isn’t enough to fuel him but he didn’t know exactly how bad it would be until he actually got some food down and only realized after how much better he felt.
He looks down at his ramen bowl and feels a sudden surge of gratitude for Bakugou’s thoughtful nature, for how he’s always keeping an eye on everyone and taking care of them no matter how much he likes to pretend otherwise. Shouto most likely would have gone straight to bed without even eating if Bakugou hadn’t made ramen simply from a hunch that Todoroki wasn’t feeling well.
“A few of us are watching the new All Might movie if you wanna come,” Sero offers, jabbing a thumb back to the living room where Kaminari, Mina, and Uraraka are fighting over the remote.
Shouto had been planning to go back to sleep but he’s feeling surprisingly well after getting something in his stomach and he doesn’t really feel like being alone right now. Besides, he has no idea when he might have his next good day where he’ll actually be able to spend time with his friends.
He nods, allowing Sero to grab his wrist with a grin and push Mina aside to make room for him on the couch, who doesn’t seem to care that she’s being manhandled. A blanket settles over his shoulder and he looks up, startled, just in time to see Bakugou settling in on his other side.
“What? Am I not allowed to be here today or something?” Bakugou demands when he sees Shouto looking, but his cheeks are deceptively red.
The movie starts with a loud explosion, the screen panning onto a full blown action scene. The rest of the class seems enraptured but the bright flashing lights and deafening sounds do little more than give him a migraine.
Shouto leans back against the cushions and closes his eyes, not even realizing that he’s tilting sideways until a hand is guiding him down onto a solid shoulder, moving him around until his neck isn’t craned at such an awkward angle. He smells a strong whiff of caramel and smoke, comforting and warm, before he’s drifting off to the faint sounds of the movie in the background.
He’s roused a little while later when a hand nudges him and he wakes sleepily just in time to accept a warm mug of tea being shoved into his hands.
“Drink that,” Bakugou whispers loudly, trying and failing to be considerate of their classmates who are still watching the movie. They don’t seem concerned with the noise, most of them having moved to the floor to make a ‘cuddle pile’ as Kaminari called them.
Shouto wraps a shaking hand around the mug and takes a careful sip, grateful to have something warm to stave off the cold. Bakugou slides back into his spot next to him, an arm thrown casually over the back of the couch.
He doesn’t know if Bakugou had done it on purpose or not but Shouto is a little embarrassed to admit how good it feels when Bakugou absentmindedly plays with the ends of his hair as they watch.
Warm and comfortable both inside and out, Shouto settles down and relaxes for the first time that week.
