#wheeze...

The silence was so complete after those words that a pin drop would have sounded like a nuclear bomb. Izuku had stilled, Shouto noticed, and his constantly-fidgeting fingers were laying eerily motionless in his lap. “What makes you say that, Todoroki?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

Shouto could only shrug. “Just an observation,” he replied with faux-casualty. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Feeling unnerved by his friend’s intense scrutiny, Izuku waved a hand. “I’m going to be the world’s greatest hero—and even if I wasn’t, helping people with their problems is literally in the job description. I can handle it.”

A deflection. Shouto should have expected as much.

“Who helps you?”

“H-Huh?”

Shouto leaned forward ever-so-slightly, his eyes trained on Izuku’s face, at his nervous smile and wandering eyes. “Who helps you?” he repeated. “You’re surrounded by heroes every second of the day. Do any of them stop to help you?”

“Oh! Well, of course—"

“Do you let them?”

Izuku shifted uncomfortably. “Did I do something to make you worry?” he asked. Another deflection. “Is that what this is about? Because I—I’m fine! Really. So, there, um… there’s no need for you to interrogate me like this…”

At that, Shouto cocked his head to the side. He stared at his friend, his face giving nothing away, while he continued to wiggle and squirm. “You think I’m interrogating you?” Shouto asked. The echo of an emotion flashed in his eyes and even though his voice was steady, the question still sounded like a challenge. “Why?”

“Well,” Izuku began, his eyes turned toward anything that wasn’t Shouto’s expectant frown, “I’ve seen plenty of crime TV shows.”

“What do those have to do with—”

Izuku went on, undeterred. “Programs like that always have a certain type of character, one who helps the others wheedle answers out of the bad guys. You know, an interrogator.” Finally, he met Shouto’s eye and offered him a half-hearted shrug. “We’re not in a crime TV show, but right now, you sound like that kind of character to me. So, um… if it’s all right, I’d like to ask what I did wrong?”

A kicked puppy. That’s what Izuku looked like right now. A kicked puppy that had been left out on the street overnight and refused dinner.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shouto took a deep breath. His eyes were closed now, but whether that was because he couldn’t bear to look at Izuku or for some other reason had yet to be determined. “That’s the problem,” he said suddenly, earning a jolt from Izuku. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to me, or anyone else—at least, not as far as I know.” He opened his eyes and looked his friend square in the face. “What I’m trying to figure out if the same can be said for yourself.”

Shouto barely suppressed a wince when Izuku’s hurt look grew more intense. “The same for… Todoroki, are you—do you think I’m hurting myself? B-Because I’m not! Not on purpose, anyway…” Izuku’s eyes fell back to the floor, and he rubbed his neck. “The only time I end up hurting myself is when I fail to use my quirk properly.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, though.” Gingerly, Shouto set his right hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “There’s something about you that’s different now than it was at the beginning of the year. It’s not the scars on your hand, or anything else like that—it’s not as obvious. But…” His grip on Izuku’s shoulder tightened, just a little bit. “You don’t want to be having this conversation with me right now, right? You keep deflecting my questions. You wouldn’t do that if there was nothing wrong—because there is something wrong.”

Izuku opened his mouth to say something, but Shouto beat him to it. “You don’t let anyone help you,” he was saying now, as bluntly as if he was stating a well-known fact, “even though you make sure to help everyone. It’s wearing on you, isn’t it? It has to be. I can see it—when I first met you, you looked different. Happy. Carefree. But now…”

Now, you look kind of like me.

Shouto sighed. “You’ve done so much for our classmates, and for me. Not to mention everyone else who’s come to you with their problems.” His hand fell away from Izuku’s shoulder. “And I know you won’t stop helping people. I don’t expect you to. I wouldn’t want you to. But…”

Even though he had been thinking about how he was going to say this all day, it was still difficult to get the words out properly. (The desperation shining through the cracks on his face didn’t help either.)

“You have a good heart, Midoriya. Let me help you take care of it. Please.”

Tears started falling from Izuku’s eyes before Shouto had even finished speaking. Big, fat, wet tears slid down his flushed cheeks like a waterfall and he sniffled, his throat thick with emotion. “Right,” he said, his voice quiet. “I should have—of course it was gonna be you who n-noticed. I’m sorry, Todoroki. I’m really—”

Shouto’s hand was back on his shoulder, but this time it was his left instead of his right. “Don’t apologize,” he said, and it looked like it hurt him somehow to say that, like seeing Izuku weeping openly because of this conversation was painful to look at. “If anything, I should be the one who’s saying sorry.”

“What? But—but why—”

“Because it took me this long to have this talk with you,” he replied simply. His face betrayed the simplicity of his tone however, with how much of a mess it looked. Expressions—guilt, regret, and anger directed at no one but himself—flashed across his face faster than even Shouto himself could process.

“A better hero would have done it sooner,” he added matter-of-factly.

Then, he thought back to the Sports Festival. “You pulled my problems to the forefront not even an hour after hearing about them, Midoriya. You didn’t waste any time at all. But I did, even though I already had your example to go off of.”

Wiping furiously at his face, Izuku tried to smile, but failed, his mouth twisting weirdly at the edges. “Don’t be silly. I said it before, don’t you remember?” He swallowed thickly before looking up, his eyes shining. “It doesn’t matter how long it took you, because you noticed. You. And when I tried so hard to hide it, too…” Shaking his head, he finally managed a real smile. “Give yourself some credit for that.”

Shouto looked like he wanted to say something more, but then decided against it. He was unsure what to do now that he had already said all that he had planned on saying. Luckily, Izuku took care of that, too, when he stood up, stepped forward, and pulled him into a full-body hug, his still-wet face pressed into Shouto’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he breathed, his voice shaky from crying. “You’re a good person, you know?”

Hesitantly, Shouto returned the hug, his hands—both of them—raising to rest lightly on Izuku’s back. “You’ve told me that far too many times for me not to know, I think.” This earned a snort from Izuku, which encouraged Shouto to keep talking. “So, what do you say? I know you won’t put it down any time soon, so will you let me help you shoulder some of that burden you’re determined to lug around?”

Will you let me help you, like you’ve helped me?

Izuku sniffed again, his arms tightening briefly around Shouto before letting go and taking a step back. He was grinning broadly now, looking relieved, and more like he did at the beginning of the year than he had in a long while.