A/N: the last few months have been so wild I keep forgetting to update this, so sorry folks! I'm gonna make it up to you and upload the last two chapters at once. Enjoy the two-fer and thanks for sticking with me!


Once they were finally at the door, they hadn't even gotten their shoes off yet when Midoriya's mother swarmed them, anxious eyes and hands aflutter as she took in the sight of their weary bodies and wet clothes. Shouto could see where his friend's nervous energy came from.

"Oh my goodness, what happened to you two? You've been out for ages! Are you hurt?

"We're okay," Midoriya promised, exchanging his shoes for slippers. "We were out training. Todoroki's quirk is half hot, half cold, so there was lots of ice to melt," he explained. "He's not feeling very well, though; can you take care of him while I get changed?"

Take care of me? Shouto wondered. He took off his shoes and looked around at the inside of the apartment. It was modern and western-style, small, but homey.

"Of course," Midoriya's mother was saying. "And bring him a change of clothes when you're done, you're both soaked!"

Midoriya left for his room, and before Shouto knew what was happening, his mother was wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, ushering him to the couch, and putting a cup of tea in his hand.

"Arigato," he thanked her, grateful for the warmth and a place to sit. He coughed into his sleeve, but realized it didn't hurt as much as it had earlier in the day. They had definitely made progress.

In a few minutes, Midoriya returned in dry clothes and handed Shouto some as well. "You can change in my room," he said.

Shouto took a sip of tea and set the cup on the table, then took the clothes. Midoriya's room was marked with an All Might-themed hanging door sign reading "Izuku," and the fan collection didn't stop there. Whoa, he thought, gazing around the room at… All Might everything. Posters, bed spread, alarm clock, mouse pad… and I thought I was a fan as a kid. I knew he and All Might have some kind of weird thing going on, but I had no idea he was such a fanboy.

He peeled off his sweatshirt, realizing as he removed it that the left cuff was singed. He'd pushed up the sleeve to keep it out of the fire, but with his poor control of that power, it had still gotten in the way. It wasn't the first shirt he'd burned, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He changed into the borrowed sweatshirt and pants, which were a little too small, but soft and comfortable.

"I should go home," he told Midoriya and his mother after exiting the All Might shrine. "Thank you both for your kindness."

"Nonsense!" said Midoriya-san. "It's dark and cold out there now, and you're sick. We have an extra futon. Why don't you stay the night and go home when it's daylight?"

Shouto frowned, considering the proposal. He couldn't remember ever staying the night with a friend, much less a classmate he barely knew. "Are you sure it's no trouble?" he asked.

"Positive! You're in no condition to be walking home in the cold! And you should both have something to eat! You two were out there a long time!"

She wasn't wrong, and Shouto couldn't deny that he'd walked far too many miles already for a day he would have rather spent in bed. He wasn't sure how eating would go, but with drained energy and a completely empty stomach, he decided it would be worth trying, so he agreed to some rice.

Midoriya, on the other hand, ate hungrily, then watched Shouto as if analyzing him. He probably was. As Shouto worked his way slowly through the rice, stopping now and then to take a break and make sure it would agree with him, he did a little analysis of his own, looking around the apartment and imagining Midoriya's life outside of school.

"Just you and your mom here?" he asked after he finally finished eating. "I didn't see any other shoes at the door."

Midoriya looked up suddenly, as if jolted back to reality from wherever his mind had wandered. "Oh – yeah," he said. "Just me and her. Has been for years. Why?"

Good, Shouto thought. Midoriya and his mother had been exceptionally kind to him, but he wasn't used to spending so much time in someone else's house, and he'd been nervous about meeting any other strangers unexpectedly. He was glad to hear he wouldn't have to worry about it.

"You're lucky," he told Midoriya.

"Lucky?"

Shouto nodded. "Mm. Your home seems very peaceful."

"Yeah, now that you mention it," said Midoriya, "I guess it is."

"The way you and her just talk, and it's so easy…" Shouto began, stopping at an ache in his chest. This time it had nothing to do with his illness and everything to do with longing for the same comfort and warmth in his own family. "I can't imagine it," he went on, memories of all sorts of shouting and abuse swirling in his mind. "It took all the nerve I had to visit her the other day."

"Her?"

"My mother."

Midoriya's eyes grew even wider than usual. "You visited her? I thought you hadn't seen her since you were a kid."

Shouto coughed, then soothed his throat with more tea before continuing. He'd broached the topic himself, but it was still difficult to talk about. "I hadn't," he said after collecting himself. "It was the first time I'd seen her in years. After our battle, when all those memories of her started coming back, I knew I had to face her."

"How did it go?" Midoriya seemed genuinely interested.

"As well as it could have," said Shouto, thinking back to their visit. It had only been a few days, and yet it felt like weeks ago already. "I felt more confident when I left there. But still, when I tried to actually use the fire after that… it was even harder when I could see her face so much more clearly. She said she forgave me and told me to embrace all my power and move on, but… I still feel like using the fire is something that needs forgiving."

Midoriya mulled this over. "It sounds like she doesn't feel that way," he said. "It must be something at least, knowing it's not so painful for her now."

"Something. But not enough."

"Still, I think you made good progress today!" said Midoriya, eyes bright and enthusiastic.

Shouto thought back to what he was capable of as an overworked five-year-old and sighed. "If you call collapsing in the sand after doing something I've been able to do since grade school 'progress'."

"That was different! You're really sick!"

"That doesn't matter." It hadn't mattered when he was a small child, it hadn't mattered when he'd gotten heat stroke, and it hadn't mattered during their sparring match earlier in the week; it certainly wouldn't have mattered that evening if Endeavor was there with them on the beach. "My father would never take that excuse."

"Of course it matters!" Midoriya shook his head, looking horrified. "Geez. Your father sure seems… intense."

"Understatement from hell," Shouto scoffed, suddenly remembering the splinters that had pierced his burned skin after Endeavor's "sparring" had slammed him into the wall. He'd been so sick all day, he hadn't even thought about that injury. The bandages had been burned off, but if he hadn't thought about the wound until now, it must be mostly healed.

"Well, it's a good thing you weren't training with him today then!" said Midoriya. "You could barely breathe when we were walking to the beach. Honestly, I'm impressed you were able to train at all! But you still kept trying, even when it was making you miserable. Speaking of which, how are you feeling? I'm glad you were able to eat something."

"A little queasy. But much warmer." That was all that really mattered. If his body temperature was beginning to regulate itself, he could deal with any other discomfort a while longer.

"Good," Midoriya agreed. "That reminds me, I forgot all about this earlier while we were training, but maybe it'll help. There's a pressure point on your wrist that's good for nausea. Uraraka showed me when she was explaining how her costume was designed." He pushed up his sleeve and measured with his fingers to where the spot was. "Maybe next time using your fire bothers you, you can try that in between and see if you feel better."

That would be helpful. Shouto's wrists were already exposed thanks to the too small sweatshirt, so he examined them, then turned back to see how Midoriya was locating the point. "Where?"

"Here." Instead of trying to explain, Midoriya picked up Shouto's hand and held three fingers under the edge of his palm, then pressed his thumb into the spot just past them. "Between these tendons. Try rubbing little circles there next time you feel sick."

Shouto repeated the movement, zoning out as he stared down at his hands. After a minute or so, he did notice a little of the unease in his stomach dissipating. "Hm. That does help."

Midoriya's mother rejoined them and picked up the dishes. "It's getting late," she said. "I'll set up the extra futon."

Shouto tried to offer to help Midoriya-san with dragging the futon to the living room, but she refused.

"You sit and rest," she insisted. "I've seen that look on Izuku before. Push yourself one more minute, and I'll be picking up this futon and you off the floor."

Thinking that she was probably right, Shouto said no more, content to sit and wait a few more minutes while his friend's mother made a bed for him. He felt his phone buzz, and he realized it had been hours since he'd last checked it. He picked it up and saw a multitude of texts and two missed calls from Fuyumi.

4:07 PM Are you at the doctor or something?

4:19 PM Did you leave by yourself?

4:19PM Is Dad with you?

5:36PM OK Dad's home and he doesn't know where you are either, seriously are you okay?

5:59 PM [1 Missed Call – Todoroki Fuyumi]

6:01 PM Are you coming home tonight?

6:04 PM Hello?

7:57 PM [1 Missed call – Todoroki Fuyumi]

7:58 PM Shouto please just tell me where you are I'm really worried

I'm at a friend's house, he wrote back.

Oh thank god

Wait you have friends?

Shouto was a little hurt, but it was a valid question. If he was honest with himself, no; he didn't. That seemed to be changing, but he still didn't know Midoriya all that well. Yet.

Classmate from school, he clarified. We were training.

How? Fuyumi wanted to know. You were so sick this morning!

Long story. He was helping me with something. I'll explain when I get home. I'm staying here tonight.

Ok…..

What do you want me to tell Dad?

The truth, Shouto replied. He should be happy I'm training.

Ugh. I'm not. You sure you're ok? You should be SLEEPING.

Yeah. It's safe here. I'll be sleeping soon. And I'm feeling a little better.

That's good, said Fuyumi. See you tomorrow I guess.

Yeah. I'll be home in the morning.

Midoriya-san had finished spreading blankets and a pillow on the futon, and Izuku was in the kitchen filling a glass of water.

"Alright, all set," said Midoriya-san. "It's nothing fancy, but it should be pretty comfortable. Do you need anything else?"

Shouto shook his head. He was so tired; he'd have been content to sleep on floor. "Arigato," he told her, grateful for the hospitality.

Midoriya-san assured him it was no trouble, and headed towards the hallway. Izuku followed, smiling cheerfully at Shouto before turning out the lights.

"Sleep well, boys," said Midoriya-san. Outside Izuku's door, she gave her son a goodnight hug. "I love you," she added to him.

"Love you, Mom. Oyasuminasai."

"Oyasumi," Shouto replied as he closed his eyes and the Midoriyas closed the doors to their bedrooms.

It felt like heaven to lie down after such an exhausting day. Even though it was an unfamiliar place with people he barely knew, it felt safe. He slept well for a few hours, then tossed and turned through a strange dream where his own mother had been there instead of Midoriya's, and in spite of his efforts to talk to her, she couldn't seem to hear him, or perhaps didn't want to. Soon he realized that she couldn't hear him because of the sound of the tea kettle whistling, but then suddenly she was gone and his father was there instead, laughing over the tea kettle.

Shouto woke up and put his cold right hand over the scar on his face. It was burning, as if the vivid dream had brought back the heat of the violence that had put it there. He sat up and shook his head, taking in his surroundings as well as he could in the dark. Nothing seemed out of place. It was quiet and peaceful, just like it had been when he fell asleep.

He needed to use the bathroom, but he wasn't sure where it was, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake up Midoriya or his mother. He stood up slowly and looked down the hallway, hoping to find it on his own. Fortunately, the apartment was small and it wasn't hard to find. Out of the warmth of the blankets, though, he was quickly chilled, shivering as he washed his hands. It was more of an ordinary cold feeling, rather than the subhuman frigidity that had plagued him the past few days, but he wasn't sure that would last if he let himself stay cold. Only one way to really get warm again…

Not wanting to damage Midoriya's clothes, he took off the sweatshirt and set it on a stack of towels before daring to light the fire. The temporary step backward made his teeth chatter. He started small, just some gently smoldering flames along his arm, avoiding the fabric of the undershirt, but holding it close enough to give him warmth. The fire lit up his reflection in the mirror, dancing off his two-toned eyes and casting shadows across his scar.

Shouto stared down his reflection, listening to the sound of the fire and hoping it would drown out the whistling kettle in his head. Then another sound ran through his memory.

"I love you." Three simple words Midoriya's mother had said to him before bed without a second thought, but he heard them in his own mother's voice. Did she?

The familiar churning in his stomach brought on by the fire made him stop what he was doing and grip the edges of the sink, unsure if he'd be able to keep down what he'd eaten. The pressure point, he remembered, then pried his fingers from the porcelain and pressed his right thumb against the glowing embers that lit the spot on his left wrist. He took a deep breath, rubbing slow circles into the pressure point like Midoriya had showed him. After a few moments, he realized that although he was nauseous, his lungs felt clearer than they had in days. He'd been able to take several calming breaths without coughing, and his right hand felt cool, but not cold, against the hot left side. That was good. See, the fire is doing something good.

It was enough for the moment. It was the middle of the night and Shouto was exhausted. He shrugged back into Midoriya's too-small sweatshirt and tip-toed back to the futon in the living room, and was soon in a deep sleep.