the day it stopped raining | midoriya izuku

24 | summer sprinkles

TOKYO
32°C
LIGHT RAIN

It would be a cold day in hell when Masuyo got sick, but it seemed that the devil was ready to don a hat and scarf because the moment she opened her eyes to start the day, they fluttered back shut as the morning light pierced her skull.

She allowed herself a small groan that was alarmingly nasal as the back of her hand came up to rest against her forehead and help shield her eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening: her face was burning up, her nose felt like someone had plugged it with cotton, and she was pulling her blankets more tightly around her to ward off the chill that was trying to settle in her limbs.

It had been a few years since the last time Masuyo had come down with something that was more than a minor cold, more than something that had gone away with a few extra hours of sleep and a couple of cold meds. In fact, she was pretty sure that the last time she was sick was somewhere back in high school. Since then, Masuyo had been extra diligent about her health despite shoving spicy ramen down her throat because being sick sucked. Between the coughing and sneezing and limbs feeling like lead, it did nothing productive for her and left her lying around like a useless lump.

A rapid buzz signalling a new text message pulled her attention away from the thoughts of her ruined late morning and Masuyo groped around for the phone in the blankets. A whimper escaped as she tapped the screen and was blinded by the backlight, and with a mumbled curse she lowered the brightness so she could actually see, opening the new message:

Midoriya Izuku
hey! how're you feeling? It's drizzling as usual but it's a bit...warm...

Midoriya Izuku
anyway, mirko-san's office today treated us fluffy pancakes! I'm going to snatch the last few pieces for us so we can enjoy them later hehe ^^

A weak smile forms on her lips. What an idiot. For someone who recently found out about her quirk, he would know that the weather isn't just based on her feelings—they're affected physically too.

Instead of replying, Masuyo tosses her phone back onto the mattress and closed her eyes. Since Midoriya's in the middle of hero duty, she wasn't going to disturb and worry him if she were to tell him she was sick. She wasn't sure if this was better or worse—while the dim light was searing, having her eyes open gave her things to look at and focus on. Now that they were closed, it was almost impossible to ignore the rhythmic pounding in her skull. She draped her arm across her face, the bridge of her nose resting in the crook of her elbow. The pressure on her eyes helped a little bit, but even having her arm out from underneath the covers caused goosebumps to pepper across her skin. She rolled onto her right side, tucking the end of the blankets underneath her feet and bunching up the excess under her chin. Her nose was going to be so stuffed on that side in a minute, but for whatever reason, the new position lessened the throbbing in her head, and she let herself drift.

__________

Masuyo must have clearly managed to fall into some kind of a sleep, because the next time she opened her eyes, there was a new weight sitting on the edge of her bed and fingers trailing through her hair as if it was made of fine silk threads.

Midoriya—of course it would be him—sat near her, watching for any kind of negative reaction to the touches or her presence, but when none appeared, he relaxed slightly and continued.

"Hey," he whispers.

"Hi." A croak in response, sounding like she was having scarfed down sandpaper.

They sit together in silence for a moment longer, Masuyo lulled into an almost-pleasant doze at his light touches. The bed shifts and she feel Midoriya move closer, and works at focusing her eyes on wide green ones, his face bearing a neutral but warm expression.