Marriage Overseas - Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Bigger Steps

It was almost three weeks since I started sleeping in Shoto's room. I still hadn't grown used to the room or the lack of privacy in some cases.

It was a late Friday night, rather morning because it was nearly two, and I woke up for no reason. When I glanced around the dark room I found the bed next to me empty. I felt the cold sheet and knew he had gotten out of bed awhile ago. Had he even gotten in at all? I had fallen asleep before he even came in the room.

Pulling on a pair of thin sweatpants and a short sleeve, I quietly walked through the large house. The hallways were dark and silent. The air felt stiff at two in the morning and I had a strange feeling that I was doing something very wrong.

I walked agonizingly slow, making sure my footsteps were completely silent. I could only hear the sound of my thundering heartbeat in my ears. My palms were slick and I knew I was growing more nervous by the second.

On the first floor, there was no light. I was half expecting a light from the family room from either Shoto or Rei. It was pitch-black with the exception of the light on my phone.

For no reason at all, I pressed my ear to Shoto's office door. I didn't hear anything.

There's something not right, I thought to myself. Never in my life did I wake up for no apparent reason and feel the need to walk around. There was a reason and the longer I didn't know what it was the more afraid I became.

Countless times I had found myself in a strange situation or managed to save a sibling in the middle of the night. It was those very instances that made me trust my instincts.

My hand grabbed the cold handle and I slowly opened the door. A light was on in the corner of the office and a bright blue light came from the computer.

Shoto had his head down on the desk.

Panic shot through me and I ran over to him. Before my hand even touched him I saw his back rise as he took a deep breath. I froze and listened, realizing now that he was asleep and not dead.

I put a hand over my heart and quietly took a step back. My other hand pressed over my eyes as I tried to calm down. He wasn't dead. I smiled to myself for the foolish assumption.

Halfway to the door I stopped and turned around. I looked at him fast asleep on his desk, his eyes shut and his mouth partially open.

I moved to stand next to his desk and look at his perfect face. Perfect was the perfect word. His skin was smooth and even with his scar, which took over nearly the entire half of his face, he lacked any physical flaws.

A scar was a scar. But scars told stories both good and bad. His was clear as day but a scar he couldn't see unless he looked in the mirror. I looked down at my own scars and felt the one behind my arm.

We're so similar. But just so different.

I bit the inside of my cheek and angrily said, Cliche you idiot. You're just asking to be the main character of a love story.

Leave me alone.

My eyes looked at his hair. It just looked so soft. My fingers itched to touch it but I kept my hands glued to my sides.

I glanced at the notebook partially under his arm. It was a calendar of some kind with his writing neatly scribbled on it. He had such perfect handwriting.

He had a list of calls with people's names next to it that overflowed the boxes. He had it down from the time it would start to the time he would finish. Then he had 'filing' and 'routine check' every other day.