Trigger Warnings:

- childhood bullying

- PTSD

- haphephobia (fear of touching and being touched)

Announcement:

From what I've read in the manga and watched in the anime, verbal abuse was an integral part of Shouto's trauma. So I imagine his healing language to be words. When I say that, I mean that words mean a lot to him, so he needs to hear a lot of words of appreciation and acceptance to slowly overcome his trauma. Selene's healing language, however, is touch. Given her experiences, it's only natural that she is afraid of physical contact, so I imagine that just as touch is traumatizing for her, it will be just as healing. Both of them need someone understanding, patient, and caring for that.

This isn't to say that Shouto will only express his love via touch and Selene via words. Of course, Shouto will speak words of comfort to her and Selene will hold him whenever they need it. Right now, they're treading waters: learning what the other needs and doesn't need; what soothes the other and what doesn't.

There's that look again.

Of being lost in another place, another time.

From the unnatural way Todoroki-kun has stilled, I can only wonder how unpleasant the memories must be.

As he sits beside me, his fingers interlink to form a steeple, and he rests his forehead against them. His breaths come out very long and slow, an attempt to find constancy. He stares intently at the ground and proceeds to lean forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

I can't leave him be this time. Not if I wish to earn his trust back.

But just as I am about to talk to him, another student arrives at our table. Glancing once at Todoroki-kun, I take the reins. I converse with the child about our project, but my attention keeps returning to him. Twice, the child has to repeat questions. Perhaps that is why she leaves with low ratings on her scoresheet. But I don't care right now.

"Are you alright?" I whisper to Todoroki-kun. The last thing he needs is unwanted attention. He does not respond, still inhaling and exhaling deeply. "What am I even saying? You're very much not alright. Do you want to leave the cafeteria for a while? I can make another excuse. The children want more flowers, and I want to make some profit, so we have to go outside to conduct business."

That elicits a different reaction from him. He laughs lightly. "That excuse would never work. Besides, Sensei has been watching us closely since Akira and I returned."

"Then how about the standard bathroom excuse? I can say that suddenly I'm having period cramps, and you're assisting me to find the nearest restroom. But instead, we'll go somewhere much farther and isolated. Sensei cannot refuse that." It's not a complete lie; my period did start this morning, but I don't feel any cramping.

He smiles sadly and shakes his head. "It's fine, Hanada. I don't want to go anywhere right now. Here is fine."

"Then may I ask what happened?"

He's quiet. I don't prod him. If he wishes to talk to me, he will. If not, then I will respect his wishes. Finally, he speaks. "Actually, I'll take you up on that. I don't want to talk about it here, not with this many people around."

I nod once and walk toward Ectoplasm-sensei. My bathroom excuse works. When I return, I gesture Todoroki-kun to leave with me. He gets up, slowly, and follows me, slowly. After some twists and turns, I find an abandoned hallway. I sit down, knees tucked to my chest, back against the wall, and beckon Todoroki-kun to sit beside me.

He joins me, hands forming that steeple again. He reveals his story. "I don't have many happy memories from this school. I was a loner: kept to myself a lot, didn't interact much with classmates or teachers. Anyone who would try to be my friend or any teacher who wanted to know what was going on was hurt when I pushed them away. Sometimes I was frosty, other times I was angry, most times I was crying." Questions arise in my head like a storm, but I remain silent. He continues, "You had already guessed that I had a difficult relationship with Endeavor. I do, since childhood. And I probably should have made friends to cope with that, or talked to a teacher or counselor, but I didn't. Instead, I made bullies. In retaliation for my rude behavior, they ganged up on me in the hallways and outside class hours. They passed insults like how the only thing I inherited from my father was his cold demeanor. His talent, his skill, his quirk were all wasted on me. Those were all comments made by upset and naive kids, I know that. But for some reason, I didn't stand up for myself. Maybe because I felt that it was true. Maybe it's true, even now. I will never be separated from my father. Wherever I go, I will carry his legacy, not mine. I-"

I interrupt him. "No. That's not true at all."

He raises his head and stares at me with wide eyes. They're brimming with unshed tears. "You're only saying that to be nice." He turns away.

"I am not. I'm telling the truth. Todoroki-kun, do you remember the first time we met? At the entrance exam? That day I had a hunch that you were Endeavor's son. But I could have been wrong, so I didn't put much faith into it. Instead, I watched you. Your time and efficiency during the obstacle were awe-inspiring. I was dazzled. Then weeks later, school started. The Apprehension Test, the Trial of Battle, the U.S.J. Attack. I witnessed and heard of your talents and achievements. Time and time again, you have shown the desire to become a hero of your own talent, not your father's. You're smart, passionate, determined, and righteous - all qualities of a remarkable hero. You have everything it takes to be a hero of your own merit. More importantly, you're sweet and kind. Just take today as an example. You did not have to help Akira-kun, but you did. And he returned that kindness to you; he did not see you as unfriendly and rude." It's working. My words are reaching him. Though his head is turned resolutely away from me, his eyes are in my direction.

"From everything you have told me and my assumptions, your father does not wish to change. You, however, do, even if you don't realize it. That encouragement for Akira-kun and that complaint letter to your former teacher show that. You are learning from your past to change your present; to make a better, brighter present from your sad, painful past. Your father is not doing that. And that is what makes you different from him, Todoroki-kun." His head is now fully turned in my direction. He's absorbing every word like a morning glory absorbing every ray of sunlight at dawn. Or perhaps like a moonflower basking under every ray of moonlight at midnight. "That's not all. There's the way you have treated me. You respected me, cared for me, even when I gave you every reason not to. I had forgotten how it felt to be valued as a person; you reminded me. You are my first genuine friend. If you were your father, you would not have done any of that.

"Todoroki-kun, you are more than the prodigal son of Japan's Number Two Pro-Hero. You say that you will never escape his shadow, and I agree; there is no escaping that. But you have your own shadow, too. Embrace it. Let these experiences mark a new dawn in your life. Start afresh at U.A. Prove to yourself and everyone at the Sports Festival that you are Todoroki Shouto, son of Endeavor, the boy on a quest to bring change in this world, make a name of his own. Become so glorious that when people see you on the streets and the screen, they think, There. That's him. Japan's valiant hero. Protector of the citizens, annihilator of the villains. Become so remarkable that people respect you for you, not for your parentage."

He's flustered and speechless. I don't blame him; I feel the same after everything I have said. It's unlike me. Though his facial expression is neutral, his eyes reveal his distraction and turbulence of emotions. His hands fall to his sides, clutching at something and nothing. Feeling brazen again, I reach for his hand and loop my little finger around his, like a pinky promise. Though, this feels much more than a superficial pinky promise. He's distracted no longer, his gaze focused on our linked fingers like a laser. I'm staring at the sight, too.

In the few times Todoroki-kun and I have had physical contact, he was the one to initiate it. Supporting my weight, carrying me places, cradling my hands. He took action, and there was always a barrier between us. A barrier of gauze and fabric. Now, I feel that barrier more acutely than ever, and I cling to the sensation like a lifeline.

My breath comes in and out in unstable sequences. Two pieces of armor between us: my bandages and my gloves. Two shields. This is not skin-to-skin contact. This is not with the intention to harm. He needs comfort and safety, and I desperately need them, too. He cannot feel my scars, he cannot invoke any scars.

I imagine how it would be like if I could touch him without my armor and he could touch me. It's unfathomable. I have my trauma, and he has his. There would be so many hurdles to overcome before it could come to that.

Perhaps that is why I am astonished when Todoroki-kun tightens his finger around mine, locking them together.

He doesn't say anything.

I don't either.

We never make eye contact, still staring at our interlocked fingers.

My gloved one around his bare one.

We stay like this until it is time to return.

Perhaps there are a million hurdles ahead of us.

But we just crossed one.

Maybe we can cross the rest together.