Serendipity

dissent

"So, you don't like chocolate?"

Shouto looks up to Aizawa, he's preoccupied with his laptop. Shouto shakes his head, stiffening his shoulders to make a quick getaway or to fight back or... or something.

Shinsou nods, relaxed, "That's cool, very cool." He lifts the front two legs of his chair up into the air using his legs, leaning back and going in and out of Shouto's space.

In all honesty, Shouto's never had chocolate. He doesn't know what that is, but he assumes it's what Shinsou's eating right now. Aizawa told Shouto that Shinsou is safe, that he won't hurt Shouto and that he is fifteen, just like him. Shouto knows what happens when he lets his guard down, though.

"So why'd you join the school so late," Shinsou questions, and Aizawa clears his throat at the front of the classroom. It makes Shouto's heart clench with fear he knows he shouldn't have because Aizawa has hardly touched him at all since he was taken from Dabi. But Aizawa has hands and a quirk and a voice to yell with, and to hurt with. Anyone with those things is unsafe, he decided this a long time ago. It just makes sense.

"Don't bother him, Hitoshi," Aizawa orders, voice gruff and tired. Shouto thinks he sounds angry, almost.

"Fine," he says, and Shinsou turns to Shouto. "Sorry, didn't mean to bother you," he raises his hands in feigned innocence and attitude, dropping his chair flat to the ground. He groans, "How can you be a hero if you don't talk?"

"Shut it," Aizawa looks up this time, glaring at Shinsou. "Don't you have friends or something?"

"Yea, in like thirty minutes. Why do you get to school so early, anyway?"

"Because, Hitoshi. We just do. Todoroki has a schedule and we follow it strictly. It's what he's okay with and my job is to make him feel okay."

Guilt floods his veins. Aizawa gets up so early because of him. Because Shouto melts down anytime he forgets and he forgets whenever he melts down and he can hear father down the hall, yelling his name and he can hear the League right outside the door, telling him about another mission and

"Todoroki, breathe. You're at school. It's just me and Hitoshi."

Shouto nods, gripping the edge of his desk. It's just Aizawa and Shinsou. And father and Dabi and Shigaraki, and the threats and the hand on his throat that burns and the smaller hand on his wrist that makes his skin crumble and it was just an illusion, Dabi told him that but his wrist hurts so bad

"Breathe, like me, Todoroki."

Shouto forces his lungs to work. He follows the command, watching Aizawa's shoulders lift and drop as he takes deep, deep breaths. The words repeat in his head, light and flowing and breathbreathbreath. Shinsou Hitoshi is safe. He's a kid like Shouto. Aizawa is here, and Aizawa is safe, too.

(His nerves tell him otherwise, they convince him of the complete opposite.)

"Do you want Hitoshi to leave?"

Shouto shakes his head, it makes him dizzy.

"Do you want me to leave?"

He shakes his head again.

Aizawa takes one more deep breath, "Okay. Remember, you're at school. Classes start in twenty-three minutes. It's Monday. Do you remember what we do on Mondays?"

Shouto thinks of his classes. He has English first, and then math with Ectoplasm, and History with Midnight, somewhere after or before those classes (he can't remember). Mondays are for hero training. And he has health class in his last period, and all day he sits next to the girl who doesn't pay any mind to him and it makes him feel like he doesn't exist and he's so grateful.