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It’s the middle of the night when Izuku bolts upright in bed in a flurry of sheets, bangs his elbow hard on the wall behind him, and immediately collapses into shuddering tears.
And- Izuku knows he's a crier through and through; he feels things almost too fully, and anyone who’s known him more than a couple of weeks has seen the infamous Midoriya tears in action. He’s not ashamed of it, nor does Izuku try to stifle his tears- because Inko Midoriya cries like anything and she’s the strongest person he knows, and Inko taught her son to never apologise for his feelings.
But sometimes the vibrant, overflowing pot of his emotions turn cracked and shaking, and he can’t help but try to screw everything in as tight as possible so he doesn't shatter. Izuku's a crier, but it's only sometimes his tears are desperately silent and choked back.
This is one of those times.
2:13 a.m. blinks in red from his alarm clock on the sill; a million muted smiles and colours layer his walls. Izuku sits rigid and shaking in a tangle of sheets, scarred fingers fixed tight on his mouth and chest stuttering with the force of violent, escalating breaths.
He's panicking: his heart is beating hummingbird-fast and Izuku’s crying harder- he doesn't even know why a simple nightmare terrified him enough to send him over the edge. Izuku’s vision grows spotty as he leans forward, shaking hands flying free from his mouth and scrabbling at his chest, gasps being choked off before the air can properly reach his lungs, and-
Izuku.
Can’t.
Breathe.
He doesn't register the door opening in his periphery, nothing more than a purple blur making its way into his smeared vision. Through the haze of panic, he distantly picks up on a buzzing voice- then something touches his shoulder and he jerks back, slamming his shoulder into the wall. “-idorya . Midoriya. Izuku- can you hear me, I need you to respond, say something to me-“
Izuku gasps, guttural and low and wheezing, and it must qualify as a response because in an instant everything goes muffled and he can feel his body still.
A voice pervades the welcome haze in his head, low and still scratchy with sleep- it’s familiar and hypnotic, and Izuku can't help but feel the faintest bit of relief at the sound. ”Snap out of it when you're calm. ”
Izuku finally slumps against the wall and his heart and breaths begin to slowly, measuredly, settle down into blurry stillness. Muscle memory leads his mind to automatically fall back on a much-practiced pattern of in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. He’s glad everything around him seems fuzzled and indistinct- Izuku may have calmed down somewhat but he’s still on edge, and he loves his posters but any relapse caused by overstimulation would really, really not be fun.
As it is, he feels all jumbled and drained and mismatched, like he’s been taken together but not put back together right- which is probably why, instead of a profuse apology or thank you, the first thing his traitorous mouth blurts out is a vaguely curious,
“Is that what doing drugs is like.”
A beat of absolute silence passes. And another.
Then Izuku buries his face in his hands and groans indiscernibly, sprawling backwards onto his bed and looking up at the ceiling in abject mortification. God, he can feel his cheeks burning- if this is what’s going to happen when he speaks, Izuku would much rather go around with duct tape slapped on his mouth permanently. Shinsou, meanwhile, has collapsed and is promptly losing it next to him, facedown on his bedspread and wheezing with muffled laughter.
“Kill me already,” Izuku mutters miserably, eyes trained on the ceiling, begging some higher power to just smite him already. “Or- I don't know, let me pull a- a little mermaid and exchange my voice for the shreds of my dignity. Wow, I'm never speaking again, don’t ask me, I don't know how words work, oh my god-“ he cuts himself off by shoving his face in the blanket and giving a muffled, incoherent yell.
Shinsou falls back- he’s sprawled on the floor and almost in hysterics at this point, hands covering his mouth and shoulders shaking with a new bout of laughter- and gosh, that’s a dimple peeking out from behind his hands. Izuku may still be a little shaky, but he feels tentative bubbles of lightness forming at the sound and sight of Shinsou’s laugh. Involuntarily, the corner of his mouth twitches into a crooked curve, hidden by his sheets. He doesn't get to hear Shinsou laugh very often. It’s...weirdly nice.
Izuku sighs and raises his head from the covers with a rustle, blinking at the sight of his friend lying face-up on his bedroom floor. He raises an eyebrow and wraps scarred arms around his legs, resting his chin on his knees, and Shinsou blinks back at him, slowly pulling himself up so he's sitting in a loose mimicry of Izuku’s pose.
“Are you feeling better now?” Shinsou asks quietly, staring at him with bright, silver pupiled eyes, and Izuku's heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his skin. In front of him, Shinsou is bed ruffled, lilac hair mussed and down from its usual style and (the cutest) cat pyjamas on- and Izuku suddenly feels a wave of guilt hit him like a sledgehammer; god, it’s ridiculously early, they have school tomorrow and he woke his friend up. Not only that, he had to see Izuku in that state- shit, he feels so bad-
“Um- hey? Midoriya? You good?” And Izuku realises he hasn't answered Shinsou’s earlier question. His face turns red- ugh, he's such a mess- and Izuku quickly stammers out, “Y-yeah, shoot, sorry! I'm fine, don't worry, I'm good now- um- damn. Uh, I'm so sorry you had to see that, Shinsou, I r-really, really didn't mean to wake you up, gosh, we have class-”
“Midoriya.” Shinsou says flatly, cutting off Izuku’s increasingly anxious tirade before it really gets going.
“Y-yeah?”
“Shut up and breathe, please. I don't mind. And dude, don't apologise for having a panic attack, you know I don't mind helping. Those suck ass and I really don't want you to have to go through that. Plus-“ Shinsou hesitates, nose screwing up and mouth twisting, “I was awake anyways- and, it’s. Always nice to use my quirk to do something good for a change.”
A moment passes, then Shinsou’s eyes suddenly widen as he realises he just made a bad, bad mistake. Izuku’s immediately snapped out of his internal cycle of guilt and anxiety, and he squints at Shinsou as murderously as he can manage.
“Shinsou?” he says, menacingly, “ Are you implying your quirk isn't being used for good?”
“Uh-“
Izuku leans closer and narrows his eyes more, almost unbalancing on his bed- but he continues because he will drill this into his friend’s idiot skull if it kills him.
“Are you. Shinsou Hitoshi, hero student. Trying to tell me that you don't think your quirk is cool? That it isn’t absolutely badass and has ridiculous potential in both villain apprehension and rescue scenarios?” Izuku prods an accusing finger against Shinsou’s forehead, “I will kick your ass, Shinsou, you know I will! We’ve talked about this!”
“I mean-“
Izuku scowls and steadily pushes at Shinsou’s forehead, moving it back. “Don't even.”
“ But -“
“No,” Izuku insists adamantly, and at this point he’s leaning forward enough that he's wobbling dangerously, and there’s a very solid chance of him falling off the bed entirely. Shinsou’s pushed back and crosseyed at Izuku’s finger, so he gives up on protesting with a small huff that tries its best not to be amused but fails miserably. Shinsou isn't slick. Izuku can see the little grin he's valiantly trying to hide just fine.
And, at this point? Despite his (very necessary) tirade, Izuku's honestly too drained and exhausted to feel bad for any more time than he has already- he wants to be selfish for once and keep Shinsou's company for just a little while longer. So he sighs and sits back against the wall, wriggling into a comfortable position and patting the space next at his side insistently while staring down the boy in front of him.
Shinsou's face cracks into a smile that has way too much laughter in it to be the sardonic grin he's gunning for. Instead of standing up like a normal person, he scoots over on his butt and- fucking slithers onto the bed, sprawling out next to Izuku like an incredibly smug starfish. God, what a drama queen.
Izuku huffs and drags himself closer, getting a small nod in response to his silent question, then resting his head on Shinsou's shoulder and snuggling up to his warmth. If he were less tired, he would probably be a little more embarrassed at how clingy he was acting, but- well. The physical affection stage happened with all his friends sooner or later- and, consider this: Izuku really wants cuddles.
Quiet falls in his dark dorm room, and it's late enough and he's tired enough that there's no awkwardness pervading the atmosphere. Izuku closes his eyes and listens to the rhythmic, slow sound of Shinsou breathing, warm against his side. He's comfortable enough to feel sleepy, but something about the night just feels special, makes him want to stay awake and talk or hum or simply sit next to Shinsou in silence.
And Izuku's a bright person by nature- he loves talking and being loud and meeting new people, but that doesn't mean he doesn't treasure the rare moments of soft quiet he gets. He isn't normally this muted around others either, but something about Shinsou makes Izuku let down his guard enough to really, truly settle.
Shinsou breaks the hush by murmuring, "...Was it a nightmare?"
Izuku nods minutely, eyes closed and cheek mushed against his friend's shoulder, but doesn't offer any more details. Shinsou doesn't push, either- another thing Izuku endlessly appreciates about him. Instead, he brings his arm to circle the shorter boy's shoulder, running his fingers a little hesitantly through the tangled mess Izuku calls hair. Izuku settles further into Shinsou's side, blinking his eyes open.
“Insomnia again?" Izuku asks mutedly.
Shinsou hums in affirmation, leading Izuku to wince slightly in sympathy.
"Mm... Have you tried tea? Yaomomo has this, this really nice apple blend that I always steal when I can't sleep. I’m- pretty sure she thinks it's me? But she hasn't caught me yet, so."
Shinsou quirks a small grin but shakes his head, taking his time in answering. "Tea's never really been my thing? But I can try next time, I guess."
Izuku hums in response. He hopes it’ll help.
Silence falls for another beat, until Shinsou breaks in again with a low, "...How're the arms?"
What - how did he realise? Izuku lifts his head, blinking at Shinsou in mild surprise- his friend notices his look and raises an eyebrow, drawling, "Dude. Midoriya. I get that you're trying to hide it, but you’re gonna have to work harder if you really want to be subtle."
Izuku grumbles a little in response and Shinsou laughs quietly, facing forward again, "You should- really take better care of yourself, Midoriya. You and I both know Sensei doesn't give a shit if we record lectures- hell, I'd be more than glad to share my notes with you. I know the rest of your crazy demon class would be too."
Izuku blinks for a pause, processing the words, before looking at Shinsou and giving him a bright, genuine smile, squinty eyes and all. "Thanks, Shinsou. I'll- I'll try my best."
He settles back against Shinsou's shoulder and snickers a little as he says, "Plus, they're your crazy demon class now, too. Don't think I missed Kaminari adopting you."
Shinsou groans a little but Izuku knows he's smiling. "Ugh, I can't believe you're right. God, they're all so- so weird, Midoriya, how the hell do you deal with them?"
Izuku cackles- he'd already had his 1-A crisis a mere week after school started and completely given up on understanding anything about his class. Nothing they do fazes him now- last week he'd walked into the common room to see Kirishima with tears in his eyes, lifting Kaminari like a big, unwieldy Simba, all while Ashido cheered them on by throwing confetti she’d somehow gotten her hands on. Kacchan had just looked on in misery- which, for him, was the emotional equivalent of crying helplessly in a curled up position on the floor. Izuku hadn't even blinked- it wasn't anywhere close to some of the weirder things he'd seen them doing.
"What happens in the Bakusquad stays in the Bakusquad," he informs Shinsou, exaggeratedly faux-professional, only breaking into snickers when the other boy sighs in defeat.
They both lapse into quiet again, staring ahead at the muted riot of posters. Crickets chirp outside, the sharp sounds juxtaposing against Shinsou’s soft breathing and the occasional rustle of the covers. They should probably sleep soon, he knows- a glance at his clock shows it's already way past 2:30, and even if Izuku skips training, he'll need to get up by around half past five by the very latest to be on time for class.
Groaning a little, he slowly shifts upright, stretching until his spine goes pop-pop-pop. Izuku tilts his head and cracks his knuckles idly, looking consideringly at a mildly disturbed Shinsou, who raises an eyebrow in return. He blinks, and-
“Call me Izuku?” he asks, and Izuku’s a little taken aback at himself because, wow, that really isn't what he meant to say, but- he knows he won’t regret the question in the morning.
Shinsou looks momentarily startled at the sheer randomness of the question, but his face then flits into a small smile. “Yeah, sure- only if you call me Hitoshi, though.”
Izuku simply beams in response. He lets out a jaw-cracking yawn, blinking water out of his eyes and, brows furrowed, looks again calculatedly at a mildly exasperated Sh- Hitoshi, whose patience dedicated to ‘Izuku’s weirdness quota’ of the day has probably been entirely exhausted. But- Izuku really, really doesn't want to be alone after his nightmare and subsequent panic attack, and Hitoshi is, well- warm, so he opens his (stupid, dumb, traitor) mouth and, after pausing, unthinkingly asks,
“Will you sleep with me?”
And Izuku doesn't initially comprehend why Shinsou double-takes, his eyes widening and cheeks blooming pink- but then his words finally catch up to him and he almost squawks out loud. Spluttering wildly, he flutters his hands erratically and whisper-yells,
“No! Oh my god no, Hitoshi! Shut up, that’s so gross, I meant cuddles, literal sleep- I’m- I’m too young for sex, shit!” He launches a pillow at Hitoshi, “Fuck you!”
Izuku barely catches a glimpse of Hitoshi choking back a laugh and theatrically fanning himself with relief; he’s too busy burying his head into the bed in the best ostrich impression he can manage, trying to plan the best escape route to Australia. The option of Never Speaking Again is sounding more and more appealing to him- three strikes of instantaneous humiliation in one night had to be a new record, and he really didn't want to find out if he could break it.
He hears Hitoshi shift and snort inelegantly from somewhere above him, and a second later a hand ruffles its way through Izuku’s bedhead.
“If it wasn’t past two in the morning right now I would tease you so much, but, like. I feel bad for you and I also don’t particularly feel like getting murdered tonight. And, uh- if you want me to sleep over, I'm down? The sharing a bed thing doesn't really bother me and- yeah. Would be nice to get some actual sleep for once."
Izuku peers up at Hitoshi placidly sitting crosslegged in front of him, "...you sure? I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable or- or obligated, or whatever."
Hitoshi just tucks a tendril of unstyled hair behind his ears, offering Izuku a small smile. "It really is fine- I do it all the time with my sister. Pinky promise it doesn't bother me."
Izuku just blinks in consternation before accepting it with a small, brisk nod because he is way too tired for any form of protest. He promptly keels over and sprawls facedown on his bed, patting randomly but insistently around for Hitoshi, who tsks mildly with disapproval, prodding an incredibly bony finger, ouch, at Izuku’s side.
“Izuku. Izuku, hey, get up. Get up, I'm not sleeping on top of the covers, you lazy bitch, I signed up for comfort and that includes a fucking blanket, Izuku- gahhh oh my god, how are you so heavy, what the fuck! What do you eat ?”
Izuku cracks an eye open to glare venomously at Hitoshi, who’s trying (key word: trying) valiantly to push him off the bed. He grumbles and passive-aggressively wriggles around, pulling at the blanket trapped under him until it’s finally free, then tugging lightly at Hitoshi’s arm to make him lie down.
“Okay, okay, jeez,” Hitoshi mumbles, shifting around until he’s lying on his side next to Izuku, who casts the blanket onto both of them and snuggles closer. Hitoshi blinks his milky, metallic eyes at Izuku, who blinks right back.
“So.” Hitoshi starts slowly. “Come here often?”
“Shut the fuck up, I'll end you.” Izuku whispers back. “I don't need any of your sass, Hitoshi- go the fuck to sleep.”
His friend’s smirk just widens. “You know, I think it’s hilarious how everyone thinks you've never sworn, like, ever. I mean, look at you. You're like a funky lil mini-Bakugou when you're cranky.”
Izuku winces because no thanks, that really wasn't a very flattering thought. “Hitoshi, please, I think I have more class than Bakubitch. And yeah- in terms of, uh, innocence? They think I'm, like, five, which is really funny because i've had unrestricted internet access since I was eight and I definitely know more than they think I do.”
Hitoshi stifles a small laugh, eyes glimmering in the dim light filtering through open curtains. “Yeah? Am I gonna have to do damage control when you finally snap and bitch Endeawhore out in front of everyone?”
Izuku, very pointedly, says nothing, and Hitoshi full-out laughs this time, though it’s still hushed in the quiet room.
“Isn't my fault he's a massive, flaming pile of dicks,” Izuku murmurs. “Poor Todoroki really got the short end of the stick there. I couldn't imagine having such a monster for a father.”
Hitoshi blinks at him, “It's not like you have a model dad either, dude,” and Izuku grins sheepishly, whispering, “Bad dad club, let’s go . We have t-shirts and cookies. And a dartboard with Endeawhore’s face on it.”
Hitoshi snorts, and dark hair splays across the pillow as his shoulders shake and eyes crinkle with silent laughter. He opens his mouth to reply, but Izuku cuts him off, saying, “Nonono, no thanks, shhhhh, we are not doing this. Aizawa-sensei will both our asses if we're sleepy during training. We are sleeping.”
Hitoshi, thankfully, just nods instead of needling Izuku more- he must be tired too, “Cuddles?” He offers, and Izuku slumps in relief.
“Yes, please,” he mutters in reply, wriggling closer to Hitoshi and curling up with his face tucked into his friend’s chest. He feels more than hears the vibrations of Hitoshi hum as he tangles their legs together, throwing a warm arm across Izuku.
2:47 blinks in red from his alarm clock. The air is cool, but Izuku is warm and tired where he is and his room is dark; the only sounds being muted cricket chirps and the hum of his air conditioner. He lays boneless on his bed, feeling inexplicably comfortable despite the novelty of the situation; there's a distinct lack of any strangeness he would normally feel lying and curled up with any of his friends- but it's late, and he decides he'll save the mystery for another day. Izuku breathes in the clean lavender-and-sunshine smell of Hitoshi’s pyjamas, and finally, finally drifts off to sleep.