Like Friends Do

Chapter 8

Midoriya's phone alarm went off at exactly four fifty-five that morning. Todoroki startled; somewhere in the night the phone had slid to be directly next to his ear, and while he usually had a habit of sleeping through his own alarms, it was likely because they were never directly next to his ear when they went off. Midoriya mumbled something incoherent on top of him, leg and arm still hanging over the boy, though somewhere in the night one of them had tugged the blankets over them. Midoriya had been using Todoroki's chest as a pillow, but now he looked up, blinking blearily at the light on in the kitchen behind them.

"Good morning!" Midoriya's mother chirped, whisking some sort of batter. "I'm making pancakes before I have to go today. All Might called and said he arranged to stop by Shouto's sister's apartment before stopping here, so you can go straight from here to the campus!"

In seconds Midoriya unwound himself from Todoroki, flushing with the embarrassment of being caught in such a compromising position. Todoroki, still trying to bring mobility to his body, made a sound of protest at Midoriya moving away, but he made no efforts to draw the boy back to him, no matter how much he missed the feeling of Midoriya lying on him.

"Mama," Midoriya called, "you didn't have to do this!"

"You boys made me dinner last night," she replied sweetly. "This is the least I could do."

Midoriya had a sweet tooth, Todoroki had discovered in their year of being friends. He wondered idly if he'd gotten that from his mother as they folded the blankets and tucked the bed away, the sweet smell of pancakes filtering openly through the apartment. By the time they sat down at the table and thanked Midoriya's mother for the meal, Todoroki was about as awake as he thought he could be, and his foot nudged at Midoriya's under the table. It had become something of a habit, so when Midoriya didn't nudge back, he glanced up expectantly.

Midoriya's face had paled and his left arm hung limply at his side. "Oi, Izu—"

"Hurts," Midoriya grumbled, staring at nothing in particular. "Really bad."

"Do you need a pain pill?" his mother asked from the kitchen, already fishing through the cabinets.

"Please," Midoriya whispered back, sweat beading at his forehead.

Todoroki's mouth fell into a thin frown. He'd seen Midoriya in pain before, but it was usually a loud pain – a yell of frustration or a bitter, pained laugh. Now it seemed different. Todoroki couldn't help but wonder if he'd overexerted his arm on his first day of being able to move it again. "Can you still move it?" Todoroki asked softly as Midoriya's mother carefully cut one of the large pills in half.

Feebly, Midoriya brought it up and rested it on the table in front of them. He winced. "I can, just hurts," he explained in a soft voice.

"Do you want me to pack up your things for you?"

Midoriya, still unable to move his gaze somewhere else, nodded numbly. "Please," he whimpered.

That was all Todoroki needed to hear. He pushed himself up from the table, meal forgotten (whatever; Todoroki didn't enjoy sweet stuff as much anyway), and disappeared into his friend's bedroom. Midoriya had mentioned off-handedly the night before that most of his things he meant to pack had been set aside by his desk. On the desk sat a large duffel bag, miscellaneous toiletries and other items half-thrown into the bag. He started by fully packing the toiletries into a smaller bag and tucking them into the bag in front of him.

Todoroki knew well that Midoriya wasn't as organized as him. Well, nobody in Class 1-A was as organized as him, but he digressed. What he meant was, Midoriya seemed almost on the opposite spectrum of him – not to a gross degree, it wasn't like there was garbage all over Midoriya's floor, but it did seem that most of Midoriya's wardrobe resided there. He poked his head out of the bedroom. "Izuku, what's clean and what's not in here?"