Serendipity

apprisal

He didn't sleep, last night. He was too afraid of seeing father again, to close his eyes. He stayed up, watching the door, listening to the world outside his room, waiting, just in case.

Logically, he knows that father can't get into the dorms. Neither can Dabi or Shigaraki. Aizawa explained this to him so many times it should be ingrained into him.

But then, he sees them. He doesn't know how to explain it. He swears that he's back there, in one or both of those places. Either tied down or being held by hands that intend to burn. It feels so real, and every burn he can remember starts to sting again, and every bruise starts to make the body feel sore, again. And he can hear himself screaming, hitting his head against the wall to possibly make father come into the dark room. That way, he can feel real, more real than self-harm allows.

He doesn't sleep a lot of nights, and he doesn't answer Mr. Suzuki when he asks about it.

Today, he braved getting up early. Shouto doesn't want to change his schedule, doesn't want to swap the activities around, too much. But he still knows he needs to try, and so he changed today by an hour. The new watch on his wrist lights up when he lifts the limb, conveniently telling him the time whenever he needs it. His phone is zipped in the pocket of his workout pants, so if he needs more assurance, that's there.

He's sitting on the cold stone steps leading up to the dorms. The snow is hard, today, more compact than the rest of the season's. It's not the powdery texture from before. Shouto still likes it, still drags his finger through it and spells his name out. It's still dark out.

"Oi, what are you doing just sitting out here?"

Bakugo's out, now, which means they can run. Shouto stands, dusting off his rear of snow. "I got up an hour early," he explains shortly, stepping down from the stairs and stretching.

Bakugo crosses his arms from the top step, "Why? Trying to prove something?"

Shouto shakes his head, "My therapist says I should be more comfortable with no schedule. I'm trying it out."

Bakugo nods, "Sounds stupid. How's that working out for you?" He starts his descent down the steps.

Shouto nods, "I didn't forget the time, yet. I still feel... weird."

Bakugo joins him at the curb, hands on his hips as he listens. "Weird how?"

Shouto looks for a description that might explain how he feels. "Foggy," he settles with.

Bakugo nods, "Is there anything that would help you?"

Shouto inspects Bakugo's face, shaking his head. Bakugo looks very calm, today.

"Okay, then let's not stand around and grow roots here, all day, IcyHot. To the peak and back, just like every run, got it?"

Shouto nods, running after Bakugo as he dashes off.

He likes mornings, better than nights. He used to not be able to tell the difference, used to not care for the difference. The sun was either up, or it was not, and the moon stole its place. He was never allowed the luxury of knowing the time, or knowing anything other than combat-related skills, how to be a hero. He wonders what Father was really planning, for him? If he was going to stay in the dark room forever, what was the point of training to become a hero?

(Was father planning on letting Shouto out?)

Shouto keeps up with Bakugo easily, now. Running is much less of a chore than it was before, he still gets sore, though.

This morning is serene. Most mornings with Bakugo are. When it's just their footsteps, padding against the icy road and creating a trail. They see the trail again, when they come back down the mountain. Shouto sometimes tries to match his footsteps to the imprints in the snow, he almost always slips in the process, never hitting the ground, always catching himself, like he was trained to.