Izuku let the morning carry on like nothing happened.

He showered, washed the tear stains off his cheeks, and rested his forehead against the tile wall. It felt like a dumping an ice cube in a bowl of boiling soup. It made the crying-induced migraine slow to a managable pain.

Dying. He was dying, surely enough, and the two toned boy sitting on his bed was the symbol of death.

He didn't even have the energy to wash his body. Izuku just rested there, the too hot water broiling his skin, as he did the math in his head.

It was September 24th. That meant he had til March.

One last winter. He'd barely see the beginning of spring before he was gone. No strawberry patches full of ripe fruit to pick with his mom, no bundles of tulips. He shook his head, his hand drifting to the faucet, turning it all the way off.

He cocooned himself in a tattered gray towel as he stepped out of the shower, glancing in the mirror. Through the crack in the door he could see him; still at the foot of his bed, hands in his lap, staring at him with those intense eyes. He latched the door shut and dropped the towel, bending over the sink.

Another wave of tears seized him by the throat. He had a nasty habit of that, crying. Crying all the time, but right now, it felt justified. It felt like it made plenty of sense. Through his tears, he threw on a plain blue t-shirt. One he shortly there after used to wipe his nose. Gross.

He felt gross.

Izuku pulled on his boxers and jeans before he cracked the door again, and soon enough, that same trained gaze. He was like a watch dog. Like Izuku might run from death, fight it tooth and nail. He wanted to, but...

He knew he couldn't. Death would win. Fate would win.

Tooth paste on the tooth brush, tooth brush in his mouth, he heard rustling. He watched the figure in the mirror move closer until the boy was propped against his door frame, eyeing him.

He looked so pale. Not just his complexion, his body. So opaque he felt he could reach through. Izuku had meber actually seen a ghost, since the only one you can see is your own.

"Midoriya."

He ignored the call, spitting the toothpaste out and continuing to brush. He didn't want to talk about it, didn't want to think about it.

"Midoriya."

Izuku flinched as a cold hand gently seized his wrist, almost immediately letting go. It certainly got his attention, and he thoughtfully, fearfully looked at the boy.

"I can answer any questions you have. Sorry for my crude entry."

This boy was so...flat. All his words fell on their face, the only inflection he'd heard so far was when he'd gotten his attention, and even that came out strained. He sounded like he was following a script.

Which might have been the case, considering immediately after saying that, he walked away.

Izuku finished his morning routine and dragged himself down the hallway, into the kitchen, where he heard his mother gasp.

"Izuku!! You're so pale! Do you feel alright?"

Another wave of pin prick tears. Another person he'd leave behind, his mother. His stomach lurched as he looked at her with tear filled eyes, hands clutching his stirring abdomen.

Should he tell her?

"This is Inko Midoriya, yes, I'm calling my son in."

Izuku's eyes widened as he heard her. Calling him in for school already?! He hadn't even had a chance to answer..

She cared so much for him, decidedly, he couldn't tell her. She had already become so frail, he worried this might break her.

"Go back upstairs and lay down darling. I have to run errands today, but you call if you nee--"

Her sentence was cut short by Izuku's arms around her abdomen, squeezing her tight, face pressed against her collar as he thanked her with a nod.

"I love you, mom."

"I love you too, Izuku, but you're burning up!!"

She gently held him at arms length, concerned for her son. He looked like he felt just awful, which wasn't far off. He felt dreadful, actually.

With her words, though, he trudged up the stairs. This meant a whole school day spent with him.

The ghost, the one with peppermint hair and gray blue eyes.

Getting into bed was a simple task. Not accidently kicking the boy at the end of the bed was less simple.

He got a curious look. Despite his better judgement, he responded.

"Mom called me in sick."

Silence. Of course, no more script to read from. They should've just let his soul rest, this seemed to be torture for both of them.

"She must care a lot about you."

"She does."

Another pause. Izuku stared him up and down, before it set in that he just chose his words carefully. As if walking on eggshells.

"Did you tell her?"

"No."

Now he felt he was getting too personal. Then again, this mysterious boy would be stuck with him, everyday, every hour for six months.

"...will you?"

Izuku didn't answer that. He wouldn't tell a stranger an answer he didn't even know himself. Instead he settled into his pillow and tugged his blanket over his shoulder, staring blankly at the dresser beside his bed.

He could have sworn he heard the boy grimace.

"..I'm Shouto Todoroki. I should've said before."

"Shouto, I think I need to sleep the shock off, if that's okay."

"That's fine."

That was the end of that conversation, but sleep didn't come easy. He could still feel his eyes on him, sense someone else in the room. Eventually, his headache finally knocked him out, and he distinctly dreamed of nothing at all.