Haunting

Chapter Fifteen: Talk

Shouto didn't want to go home.

The Sports Festival loomed on the horizon. Training - both at home and at school - was becoming tougher, more frequent. It was the hardest they'd pushed themselves yet, training for as long as they had to in order to work out any kinks and cracks in their armor to come out on top, and the stress of it all was weighing on him. Every movement caused his bruises to pulse in complaint, hidden cuts opening back up each time he bended or stretched wrong. That was before he got to school, and the training he endured for U.A only slathered another layer of bruises and grime onto his skin.

Shouto wasn't social to begin with, but he isolated himself even more. Endeavor's eyes bore holes into his back wherever he went. Everything he did was a constant reminder of what was expected of him, and all of his focus zeroed in on giving his father as big of a middle finger as he could feasibly pull off.

Not only was all of his effort focused on that, but he couldn't take having to hang around people that only saw him as Endeavor's son, an icon, lucky . It made him want to scream in frustration, grab them by the shoulders and shake them and say he's not who you think he is! over and over until they finally understood , but he couldn't, and he found himself helpless, struggling to move forward but refusing to turn around.

So he did neither. He stalled for time. He found himself hovering around the classroom after school more and more, regardless of Bakugo's annoyed glare, waiting until Aizawa had to leave before doing so himself.

One day, when the thought of going back to the suppressing quiet of his home made his gut clench and his skin preemptively tingle with the feeling of phantom flames, he asked Aizawa if he could stay after for a little while longer than normal. He claimed he focused better in the classroom than at home - which wasn't a lie - and to Shouto's surprise the man didn't question it. Aizawa's gaze flickered over Shouto's shoulder, momentarily distracted before he met his eyes again, telling him he would be in the staff room and to get him if he needed anything or when he was finished with his homework. Aizawa left the room, leaving Shouto with an empty classroom.

Well, seemingly empty. Izuku was gently whispering to either himself or Shouto, the student wasn't entirely sure which, perfectly content with having a one-sided conversation.

He meant to do homework, he really did. Shouto had set up a studying spot in his usual seat and was fully prepared for the migraine that was English. But when Izuku started pointedly tapping on his desk and then at the back of the classroom where the EMF resided, Shouto figured he could postpone the migraine for another day. He stood from his seat and walked over curiously, pulling the machine from its storage.

He turned it on and waited a while in an awkward silence. He wasn't sure how much Izuku had to say, so he just guessed. Shouto warned Izuku that he was pausing - as he'd seen others do - and played it back.

He mentally thanked the support course girl that had fixed the EMF, otherwise this conversation would've been a nightmare to understand.

" Yóu ҉lo̧o͘k ́sa̵d,͝" Izuku said, voice managing to push past the static. " I'm ͞so̸rry ͘f͟or ̶slapping ͟your ha͟i̴r ͞to͘day͢.͜ I ̵d́idn'͏t m̷e̛a̧n t̶o͝ ma̡ke yo̕u̵ u̶pset̶. ̴I'm sor͞ry. "

Shouto sighed. Right, Izuku wouldn't know. It's fine, it's...not because of you, he explained.

" Do y͏ou̧ wa̕nt ̶t̢ò t͡al͢k ͡abou͏t ͜i̸t? "

He paused at that, thoughtful, and in his silence Izuku tapped the table to get him to record again. It took two recordings to get Izuku's rant in, but they managed.