It's cold, but the wind is sweet. Shouto's scarf flutters in the chilly breeze, his hands deeply fisted in the pockets of his coat. The tip of his nose and his good cheek are rosy from the weather. He's going to see Midoriya today. He hasn't seen him all week since school will be starting again soon and his father had demanded he train day in and day out. Grating as that is, the weekend has finally arrived and Shouto is on his way.
He likes to think that he is closer to Midoriya than he was before. They had been friends, sure, but now it's different to Shouto. There are less things that can come between them now. Less people. His lips curve up a bit at that. Pink petals from the plum blossom trees in front of the hospital glide in front of him in a swirl of wind, some snagging in his dual colored hair. He continues to the hospital doors and they open and close behind him. As Shouto checks in at the front desk, he can't help but think about when he first visited his mother after the Sports Festival. The white washed halls, the solemn faces of hospital staff, it's all grown to be incredibly familiar to Shouto.
He thinks about that as he rides the elevator up, boredly squirting hand sanitizer in his palm since it's available. The elevator dings and he steps out. The hall is barren aside from a few tables outside specific rooms. Shouto keeps his mismatched eyes forward as he walks, not bothering to look in any other rooms.
He wonders if he's completely desensitized to hospitals from all the visits to his mother, but when he pauses in front of the doorway of his friend's room, he knows that isn't true. He can see the back of Izuku's head (yes, they're on first name basis, which is incredible to Shouto), there are fresh white bandages intermingled with his fluffy green tufts of hair. He's facing the window from which there is a prime view of one of the plum blossom trees outside. Shouto wonders what he is thinking about.
Shouto's vision is obscured by a nurse pushing a cart out of the room. He recognizes her, she's the one always caring for Izuku. He makes sure to smile at her because of that. She returns it with her own slight grin; cordiality radiating from her. "You're back!" She says cheerily. "Been a hot minute. He asked about you, you know..."
Shouto's brows lift behind his bangs. "...He did?"
She nods and pushes the cart out of the room, looking at Shouto from over her shoulder. "No memory still, but him asking is an improvement. He hardly talks, but maybe you'll be able to coax him out. Remember to be patient, dear."
"Mm," Shouto confirms and he watches as the nurse continues down the hall and around the corner. He watches her because he is hesitating. He swallows and looks over his shoulder. Izuku still hasn't turned from the window. Though he's in much better condition than he was a few weeks ago, Todoroki still feels an unpleasant clenching in his gut upon seeing Izuku in drab hospital garbs, gauze around his head. Todoroki presses his lips together and knocks on the side of the opened door.
Izuku doesn't even flinch; completely unresponsive. Todoroki feels his heart sink a bit and he steps inside; he scolds himself for letting that nurse raise his hopes.
Todoroki isn't really sure what to say. A simple "good afternoon" seems lackluster, but Shouto knows that he, as a person, is pretty lackluster so he says it anyway.
"Good afternoon, Izuku."
The first name adds some flare, he thinks.
Izuku doesn't respond, but Shouto hadn't entirely expected him to. He swallows and takes the chair by the door, pulling it to sit by the hospital bed.
Shouto's eyes scan over Izuku's form. He's sitting up, his small body seems thinner than it had been the week before. Shouto wonders if he's eaten any solid food yet, the staff have been very careful with him, a bit hesitant to mess with one of Recovery Girl's miracles. Midoriya's hands are on his lap and he's still turned away. He's almost like a statue, aside from the very subtle rise and fall of his shoulders. He's not always like this; Shouto's made eye contact with him a few times since the accident, and he's been able to participate in spaced out, slow conversation from time to time... still it hurts. The doctors say it's a mixture of physical and mental trauma.
