Disappointment isn't a word he'd ever say in casual conversation, really. It's overused. Whether minimal or terrific, it's a word simply overused all the same. And he's become tired of hearing it lightly dance around brief conversations, "oh- you must be so disappointed."

Shouto lessens his expectations at the drop of a hat.

Perhaps his own expectations are simply too high. Perhaps Shouto haphazardly placed them on the wrong sort of people. A half dozen become spectres and slip through his hands quicker than they'd settled into his home. Expectations are heavy. People dislike the word and resolutely- so does he.

He is always reminded of that fact the second cold fingers start to sort through each fortune. He sorts each one carefully aware of their weight; they guide him with their own potential. He's generally aware of them. They're fortunes of people in town, fortunes that he can grasp in his cupped hands.

But Shouto doesn't know how to read them.

What is the use of magic if he hasn't learned how to use it? A useless, silly little practitioner says his growing self doubt who picks apart his thoughts and scatters them. He doesn't want to depend on 'gifts' if they could count as that. In comparison to what they've become, originally his magic was a gift. But there isn't anything else to rely on. Shouto still wouldn't say he's disappointed in this outcome.

Shouto passes off another failure and calls it a night. With his bedroom lights off, it's dark and quiet. He wishes it were at least a bit louder because then these dreadful things wouldn't happen. Hunkering down isn't an option.

He isn't a child any longer. And his old man knows that.

Heavy footsteps echo his fear at the tender hour of four. Doorknob rattling angrily in time with the anxious pounding of his heart. Things here are a bit funny - he should give up on both gifts. Desperate attempts at magic only fuel the silence. Tomorrow will be a day for multiple band-aids and a shop visit. Maybe someone else will make use of these indecipherable books.

Creaky hinges scream loudly that it isn't quiet anymore.

Freckles are tiny sunbeams. They occur when your face has become so lovely even the sun wants to be part of you. If this were the case their neighborhood errand boy holds hundreds of sunbeams just below his eyes.

And a hundred more when his face scrunches into a broad grin.

Having something to hide isn't all that hard. There aren't many deep, dark secrets in their town anyhow. It's tiny; built for summer homes that the rich outsiders visit on vacation with their families.

Things are more lively during a holiday.

Izuku can do just about any loose task according to the older residents. If it's a school day then those jobs are strictly limited to afternoons. Never mornings. Regardless, it's fun to help. Being odd but reputable gave him more leeway and it isn't as if any of these things are ill intended.

He just likes to help.

That deems this an unfortunate day for him. The sad eyed boy is back, the one who is incredibly polite but incredibly one that buys odd books with few words and fewer expressions; after receiving his change not even well wishes that follow him into the street are capable of rousing any reaction.

Today Izuku is sorting books on the tippy top shelves, straining at the top rung that protests his wriggling. Even up here he can't reach despite his instructions to find all three titles scribbled messily on a piece of scrap paper. Either he needs to grow taller in the next few seconds or find a larger ladder.

Amidst his struggling the bell on the front door rings, and he's tempted to jump straight down from the ladder. It's a foolish decision, really, seeing as how he wouldn't get just a few scrapes, but it was an impulse. A tempting impulse.

"Um, uh-" To his embarrassment, the only person staring back at him, when he turns halfway off the ladder to get a good look, is the sad eyed boy. And the manager stepped out for a moment. "Would you mind waiting a- a few seconds?"

He's higher up than he thought.

"Yeah."

He didn't know that boy could talk that loud. But then, he never talks much anyway so that's probably why. Izuku could never fix his worrisome nature and to say he wasn't worried now would be a lie.

Climbing halfway down takes only a minute and the rest- he jumps for it. Izuku supposes it's a good thing his mother isn't around to scold his reckless behavior. There's no one but himself and this regular customer.

With all these books he's returning.

"Was there something wrong with these?" It's standard to ask as he shifts through titles about fortunes, predictions and whatnot. There are so many books; how many had he collected within their one month return policy? "Anything particular?"

"No." Sad eyes takes a moment to rethink his statement. "Not really."

"Oh. Okay then." Izuku watches him place each book on the counter one after the other. With all those smooth receipts sticking out the front covers he can't help but wonder if they were even touched.

"Not to be nosy but- why did you buy so many of these books?" It's not really poking around he tells himself. Since sad eyes technically has the incentive to tell him to shut up, after all. Izuku fights the urge to reach up and rub his temples nervously for all he's worth. He already knows he's too meddlesome.

Once again it's only them in this cozy shop. Small wooden counters and an odd variety of cushioned sofas and chairs that don't match against soft red walls only accented by the worn white trim. There are plants scattered throughout the windows and tables. Shelves of all shapes and sizes are lined if not cramped with a plentiful selection of books against every wall. For some reason his hesitation and the midday sun makes all of these things uncomfortable; an odd feeling, considering his familiarity with the place.

"I don't need them anymore." Reasonable enough. But only when those words don't sound so especially distressed.

Izuku sucks in his anxiety and goes for it. "What's your name?"

Sad eyes only stares in a daze. "My name?"

It's too late. He's already asked despite wrestling fear that all this is no good. "Yeah. You come in frequently so I- um, I thought I might as well learn your name. You know... as a regular and all," He nearly knocks over a book fumbling to reach over the counter and holding out a shaky hand. "I'm Midoriya Izuku, by the way…"

He's going to leave him hanging, isn't he,

To his surprise, the unlucky boy is shaking his hand with maybe even the faintest smile. He doesn't look so sad, right now. "My name is Todoroki Shouto."

In Izuku's nervousness he's almost wildly shaking it back until they loosen hands. "Okay now I need my hand back." When he smiles it's pleasant.

"I've gotta sort all these receipts."

I'm not updated all the way on the manga yet so we're starting slow lmao forgive me. A very special thanks to altered-karma (tumblr) for bulk editing the shit out of this with me an entire hour and fortitudesouth (also tumblr) for all your helpful edit suggestions!

More thanks to Grahm (Sawadork on AO3) for looking over things first because my gay baby heart is so nervous about this.