Izuku finds Todoroki in the bathroom the next morning, throwing up, bent over the toilet bowl. For a moment, he just stands there, staring at Todoroki's hunched figure. His shoulders are shaking and his hands grip the rim of the toilet bowl so desperately, the white of his knuckles shines through his paper-thin skin. A thin shean of sweat covers his face, little droplets running down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt. The color of Todoroki's skin is barely distinguishable from the white walls of the bathroom; it looks like wet paper streched too tightly across a hard surface.
A shiver runs down Izuku's spine.
Sobs wrack his friend's body and tears stream down his face over reddened cheeks. It's the choking sound he makes that finally prompts Izuku to himself out of his trance, he approaches his friend with cautious steps, letting his hand rest on an unsteady shoulder.
He stays there until Todoroki stops dry-heaving. And then he stays longer, until the tears stop and his breathing slows, eyes falling shut.
"It's okay," he mumbles, "it's going to be okay. You'll be okay."
But he's not so sure anymore.
"He's getting worse."
Ochako lifts her head from the book she's reading, looking at Midoriya with one eyebrow raised. "What do you mean?"
"Todoroki," Midoriya clarifies, as if that wasn't a given. "He's been throwing up since this morning. He keeps running to the bathroom, even though there's no way he even has something in his stomach to throw up." Rubbing his forehead in circular motions, Midoriya sighs. His hair stands out in all directions and there are dark bags under his eyes. The constant tremble to his fingers reminds Ochako of how little sleep all of them have gotten over the past few days.
She wishes everything would go back to normal. Her own body feels heavy whenever she gets up, the lack of rest getting to her.
Ochako looks back down at the book on her lap, but the letters suddenly don't make sense anymore. She blinks, trying to clear her blurred vision. "Have you checked for a fever? Maybe he's just sick?"
Midoriya nods. "He is running a fever… Of course he is. But I just feel like there's more to this. There's something I'm not seeing." Midoriya takes a ragged breath. "And I- I need to see it! I have to see what's going on but I can't and he's still not talking to me about anything!"
"Deku…"
Midoriya falls silent and collapses into himself like a pupped that had its strings cut.
Ochako stands and sits down beside her friend, laying her head on his shoulder. It's as much comfort for her as she hopes it is for him.
"I'm sure he'll be-" Ochako's voice cuts off. Ther's no way Todoroki will be "fine" anytime soon.
She bites her lips. "He'll get better. Don't overthink so much. The fever is probably just his body dealing with all the stress. It's normal. It'll pass."
"Yeah…" He doesn't sound convinced, and Ochako isn't sure how much belief she gives her own words. But there's nothing they can do but wait and hope.
It's a struggle to get Todoroki to eat dinner at all.
"I'm not hungry."
"I'll just throw it up anyway."
"Leave it."
"I'd rather lay down."
"I can't."
"I can't."
"I'll do it for you," he says eventually, and takes three bites.
Ochako puts the leftovers into the fridge, hoping he'll get hungry later that night.
The food stays in the fridge for three days until Iida has to throw it away.
"What are you doing?" Tenya hurries to Todoroki's side, tearing his nails away from his forearm where they'd been scratching the skin relentlessly. "Todoroki…" A cold breath leaves his lungs at the sight of the red, irritated skin.
"It's itchy."
"But you're bleeding! You can't just keep doing this! " Todoroki flinches at the volume of his voice and Tenya sends him an apologetic, tight-lipped smile. "You have to be careful…" Tenya takes a second look at the arm held carefully in his hands. There are red spots all over it. "It looks like a rash. How long has this been there? Does it hurt?"
"Two days."
Sagging his shoulders, Tenya shakes his head. He wants to scream at Todoroki, to tell him he needs to inform them of such things, but he can't bring himself to do it. Looking at his friend's sunken cheeks and thin wrists, he can't bring himself to do it.
So he simply treats the irritated area with healing cream and wraps it in clean bandages.
"And don't worry," Todoroki says, looking at the white fabric wrung tightly around his arms. He's staring at it as if he wants to look through it. "It doesn't hurt."
And that just makes Tenya worry more.
It's almost midnight when Shouto wakes up from a nightmare in a feverish haze.
The mattress beneath him is soaked, but Shouto can't bring himself to care about that when his lungs struggle to gather enough air. He sits up in a panic, grabbing at his throat and chest, clawing at the flesh on his neck. Ragged breaths and whines are the only sounds filling the dark room. Suddendly, the muscles in his arms and legs tense. He feels pain shoot through his limbs, all the way to the core of his body. It feels as if his stomach is being tied into a knot, pulling into itself. His whole body is shaking like leaves in a storm. The fingers cramp around his neck. His vision blurs, dark spots appearing in front of his eyes. He bites down hard on his lower lip, drawing blood. The bitter taste barely registers with him as he falls off the bed, having lost all semblance of balance and body control.
His fit doesn't stop until what feels like hours to him. Exhaustion hits him like a train when his body finally relaxes against the carpented floor. Saliva runs down his chin and collects in a small puddle beneath his cheek. His skin is clammy and cold. Here and there, small tremors run up and down his frame, only stopping when they reach the tip of his toes.
The pain makes his thoughts stop alltogether. He can't form one coherent thought. The only thing he can focus on is steadiyng his breathing.
He's so glad nobody saw.
Nobody saw.
Nobody saw.
He's singing it like a mantra in his head, over and over, trying to calm himself.
It works somewhat.
Todoroki gathers his legs underneath himself and slowly lifts his body into a sitting position. Using his nightstand for support, he stands on unsteady feet.
It's getting worse. He knows it.
Midoriya knows it.
Before he starts hyperventilating again, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
And one more.
One more.
In and out.
In and out.
His mouth feels dry and his tongue sticks to his teeth.
Shouto creeps to his door, pushing it open while he keeps his eyes and ears alert. Everything is dark, which means nobody is awake. That makes him relax a bit.
Slowly, he makes his way to the kitchen.
The cold tiles wake him up some more. He shivers. Not daring to turn on the lights, he uses the shine of the moon to find his way around. His trembling hands reach for a glass, and he has to put all his willpower into not dropping it.
Don't drop it.
Don't drop it.
Filling it with water, he gulps down everything in one go. His stomach protests, but he's past caring about his stomach.
Suddendly, something shiny to his right catches his eye.
He puts down the glass on the counter and lifts up the knive. It's the one Iida used this evening to cut the chicken. It glints, its sharp edges reflecting the moonlight like a still lake at midnight.
He turns it around.
It's heavy.
Heavy and cold.
Todoroki doesn't put down the knive for fifteen more minutes.
He forces himsel back to his room and under the sweat-soaked covers, the feeling of the knive in his hand still present.
The feeling doesn't leave until he falls asleep, entering another nightmare.