NOTE: This was written as a gift for the BNHA Fall Exchange! Please enjoy!

"Oi. Half'n'half! Answer your fucking comms! D'ya hear me bastard? Deku where the f—"

The connection to the little earpiece finally cuts off and Shouto is left alone, the roar of flames surrounding him completely and yet he feels so cold. The edges of his vision are darkening and his lungs burn with a need for oxygen that doesn't seem to reach no matter how deep of a breath he sucks in. But it isn't smoke that is making it impossible to breathe, because the fire isn't natural and even burning intensely in large walls of violent flame, no black ash rises to creep down his throat and suffocate him.

No.

Shouto might be surrounded with hot hellish fire but he is on the floor shivering. He is curled in on himself, gasping for breath and fighting against the frost that is slowly overtaking his insides, covering every surface and digging icy claws into his very core. His breath is frozen in his lungs, his blood thick and cold in his veins, his muscles tight and cramped, his nerves numb. The flames around him burn hotter than even the water that melted almost half his face and Shouto is freezing to death.

It is a fitting end for him, he thinks, someone who has not known warmth for as long as he can remember. Even so, Shouto did not imagine it would come so soon. Alone? Yes. During active duty? There was no other way for him. But only a few years into his career as a pro hero proper? Shouto always thought he would last at least a decade. After all, he managed to graduate as one of the top students at U.A. and just recently made it to number one as one of the youngest to ever do it. And he did it all relying almost entirely on his right side. With only the side of him that didn't come from a nightmare of anguish and lost sanity.

Broken and bruised, frozen down to his very bones, his consciousness fading from pain and oxygen deprivation both, Shouto can only lay limp and wait for death's icy fingers to finally clasp around his heart and stop it from beating. His thermal regulator is done for, as is his communications device and the GPS tracker that comes with it, and there is nothing but fire around him. He cannot move, he cannot scream, he cannot breathe. All Shouto can do is wait. Wait for help that may never come or may arrive just a second too late. Wait for the lonely and cold end he so deserves for a life lived just the same. No real friends, no family left to call his because he renounced them all to escape just the one who really deserved it. Cold and lonely and yet everything around him burning. Truly fitting, but still too soon.

Something crashes and Shouto is already too far gone, only absently wondering if the building may be collapsing before finally letting his eyelids fall closed.

Shouto hadn't dwelled much on what death might be like. He had always just assumed it would be akin to falling asleep – aware of everything one second and nothing but darkness the next –, perhaps with a little more pain, though he wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling of going to bed sore all over. It wasn't something he had spent nights awake in bed thinking about, it was a certainty and he never thought there was any point to worrying over something he could not really control.

Though the times he did find himself drawn to its inevitability, Shouto would never have expected it to feel warm or comforting. He would definitely not have guessed that death would feel like a tender embrace, like a blanket of protection, caring and inviting, a soft voice in the distance, like velvet caressing his ears and filling his chest with a calm sense of safety. It is much better than he thought it could be, much more like the fairy tale endings of familiar faces waiting on the other side of the veil with open arms and smiling faces. Shouto does not recognise the voice, he does not remember the feeling of these arms around him, but it still gives him that surreal feeling of what he might call home, a feeling that he had never really thought he would be able to experience.

In this moment, death appears peaceful. With the last threads of consciousness, the thought of it seems too good to be true weaves into his faded mind.

That thought proves to be right, though Shouto wouldn't exactly say the alternative is much worse. That being said, he might be a little delirious, and seeing the face of an angel is honestly just as ludicrous as everything that came before. But he does see paramedics, and that over there in the distance is definitely Bakugou cursing up a storm while Iida tries to keep him from exploding a dent into Kirishima's side for barring his way to the ambulance Shouto is currently in.

Heating blankets are being draped over him, and there's an oxygen mask on his face. Shouto is pretty sure one of his legs is broken, maybe a rib or two as well but they might just be badly bruised. His muscles are still stiff though, and he's trembling uncontrollably which is a good sign because—

"You're not dead! That's great! I thought I lost you there for a second and I was about ready to cry forever."

Shouto's vision is in and out of focus, and he can't quite make out the face as one he knows from anywhere at all but one thing is for certain: it looks too beautiful with that sunshine smile stretching across it. He would have thought that seeing it tarnished by tears would be heart-breaking, and yet, those are definitely fresh tracks rolling down star-kissed cheeks and Shouto may as well be dead because no mortal being could ever look so perfect. Even with eyes comically wide, that vibrant green that would put the most precious of emeralds to shame shining with something Shouto can't quite place, he thinks that only the grace of the gods themselves could have handcrafted such beauty.

"Bro."

Kirishima snickers from just outside. He must have gotten closer at some point which would explain why the "Oh what the fuck" that clearly comes from Bakugou sounds so loud in his ears.

Even the paramedics seem to have stopped what they were doing for a few heartbeats, everyone gaping at Shouto like he has said something stupid, except for the beautiful person with the jade eyes and constellations mapped on tanned skin. He has instead the look of a deer caught in headlights, shell-shocked and with the gorgeous red pink of a peaceful sunset painted over his adorably round cheeks. It's unfair, Shouto realises, that someone can appear so stunning when stunned themselves.

The next thing he knows, Shouto is surrounded by nothing but black. Whether that was in fact the angel of Death finally come to claim his life for good, or his injuries' toll on his body simply finally catching up to him, he doesn't have the time to actually decide.

Izuku isn't exactly a stranger to heroes. Actually, heroes have pretty much been an essential part of his life for as long as he can remember. For the longest time he wanted to be a pro and damn if he didn't try everything he possibly could to finally make it. But being quirkless didn't exactly work in his favour in that particular department. Not even All Might himself had believed he could do it... People do say to never meet your heroes, but Izuku wasn't about to let that discourage him.

All Might had broken his heart when he said that he couldn't be a hero like him, but he did leave a bit of hope in there somewhere. He could become a police officer or something the like. Everyday heroes might not be so in name, but they were heroes nonetheless. Or at least, Izuku tried to look at it that way. He refused to be useless, no matter how many people might try to convince him that he wouldn't amount to anything.

One in particular just so happened to be constant pain in his neck, but Izuku was used to dealing with Kacchan. If anything, his constant pestering (bullying as many might call it, but Izuku didn't like to feel like a victim either) only pushed him forward, to becoming better. One day he'd stand tall and subtly throw it all back at his childhood friend's face. Izuku swears he isn't petty, but he'd be lying if he said it wouldn't be satisfying to finally get to tell Kacchan "I told you so".

So, becoming a firefighter and personally pulling his explosive not-so-heroic pro hero friend out of raging fires he may have caused himself felt extremely fulfilling. Especially when he got to tell Mitsuki all about it while Kacchan denied everything from the doctor's office. It wasn't the last time it happened either.

Izuku swears he isn't petty. Really.

But putting all that aside, his line of work often puts Izuku in the front lines, right there with the pros, to help deal with the collateral of the more reckless of them all. Which, in turn, means that Izuku will often get to meet some, talk to them, learn about their quirks and sometimes even offer advice on how to use them better.

"Once a nerd, always a god damn nerd." Kacchan had mumbled under his breath when Izuku first gushed about Kirishima's hardening quirk.

To be fair, he wasn't exactly wrong. Izuku still follows hero news like his life depends on it. He still keeps his journals, though he has been making an effort to digitalise them after he reached the thirty-fifth sometime around his teens and decided that maybe he shouldn't be contributing to the death of so many trees. Recycled paper just didn't make him feel any better about it.

Proud owner of a blog on quirk analysis, Izuku tends to spend most of his free time researching – read: lightly stalking – his favourite heroes (active and in training) for new and exciting updates to which he will sometimes add pictures he's taken from the field. Oftentimes while working. Professional? Definitely not. But does Izuku care? Not enough to actually stop it.

Over the years, Izuku has come to admire many of Kacchan's previous classmates, all of them amazing in their own right, a true class of prodigies, though not without their occasional black sheep. There was one student, however, that caught Izuku's eye right from the very first sport's festival. Freezing an entire arena in a matter of seconds is bound to leave a lasting impression on anyone, let alone someone who is every bit the hero nerd Kacchan says Izuku is. Beating Kacchan and winning first place only served to spike his interest even more.

Todoroki Shouto, son of then number two Flame Hero Endeavor. That in and of itself was already of note. And then Izuku noticed that he only ever used ice despite the fact that his quirk is half cold and half hot, and not once in all of his three years at U.A. did Izuku witness the student use any sort of fire apart from melting the ice he created. Needless to say, Izuku was stumped on why that might be, because all of his sources – Kacchan included, after he bugged him long enough to let him in on some info – told him that Todoroki could use fire just as powerful as his father's, but he always refused to use it in battle.

The trend carried on after U.A. and any sightings of pro hero Todoroki using fire for anything at all seemed to be rarer than those of the Loch Ness Monster. It's a mystery Izuku may or may not have been obsessing over ever since he first laid eyes on that strange head of dual coloured hair on his mother's tiny TV. And with that obsession came a tiny bout of infatuation that he may have been denying for the good part of his high-school years. When he fully accepted that fine, maybe I do have a celebrity crush on the walking candy cane ice cream pop person, of course it didn't stop there, because with pro heroism came more feats for Izuku to gawk at, to make his stupid heart flutter and his stomach do backflips.

Izuku isn't ashamed to admit he has tried to meet the hero on more than one occasion. Surprisingly enough, however, it is in fact quite hard for a fireman to find himself wherever the famed ice hero goes. What with all the lack of fires to put out and the like. Sure, that's not all Izuku does in his job, but regardless, their paths just never seemed to cross, and he had to resign himself to simply watching his rise to number one as a very dedicated fan who knew all sorts of weird facts about Todoroki he picked up from Kacchan's complaints.

For all of his whining, one would think that he might eventually introduce Izuku to him, but no he's "somehow even shittier than all those extras and it would just be embarrassing to admit I even know you". Useless roommate. Izuku will forever rue the day he complained that he wouldn't make rent that month to Mitsuki when Kacchan happened to be looking for someone to rent his spare room to. He did need the help but was it really worth the constant headache of having to endure Kacchan's temper tantrums? For all the titbits of information he heard out of it, yes, very much so.

Izuku should really reconsider his priorities at one point or another.

But then again, it's because he lives with Kacchan that he happened to hear that Todoroki was trapped inside the building with the villain who had just engulfed half a block in flames that somehow keep burning without kindle. It's because his childhood friend, even if he claims to hate Izuku, will still confide in him when he's stressed or worried, despite the fact that he would deny having such feelings with a threat of killing whoever suggested it in the first place. Izuku soon learned to just listen and act accordingly rather than make any actual comments.

That afternoon it was hard to focus on what Kacchan was saying, busy trying to figure out how to put out a fire that technically isn't really burning. Still, as he searched for whatever weak points in the fire he could exploit in order to get past the walls of flame and get to any victims, Kacchan ranted on while Izuku only half listened to it.

"That icy-hot piece of shit went and got himself separated from the rest of the group. Just because he made it to number one he thinks he's some hotshot who can fucking take these bastards all on his own, as if I couldn't fucking tell the bastard was limping when he ran off. Stupid idiot. Oi. Half'n'half! Answer your fucking comms!"

Before Izuku even fully registered everything Kacchan had just angrily spewed out of his foul mouth, he was already running towards the first door he thought he could squeeze through without burning to a crisp. He found Todoroki somewhere on the third floor, half expecting him to be a pile of ash by now, but curled up in a tiny ball, trembling like a leaf while Izuku himself was sweating bullets from the sweltering heat.

He couldn't even think before jumping to his favourite hero's aid, picking him up as gently as possible and holding him close against his chest before finding the nearest exit. Which just so happened to be an open window. Whether Izuku had truly astounding spatial awareness and he just so happened to know that Uravity was near that same window to catch his fall or he was simply so panicked to get Todoroki somewhere warm (but not on fire please) that he actually thought jumping out of it was a good idea... the world may never know.

The fact of the matter is that she slapped his thigh at just the right time – a little higher and Izuku might be on the news for all the wrong reasons, but that's neither here nor there – and Izuku doesn't think he had ever run as fast as he did to get Todoroki on that ambulance.

This is proving to be one of the most eventful days in Izuku's entire life. Never had he expected to be saving the number one hero (and his crush no less!) from freezing to death while caught in a raging fire. Much less to catch that very same person staring at him as if he was some sort of godsend after he blurts out the stupidest thing he could ever think up. You're not dead? That's great?! Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?! The fact that he's definitely crying at the prospect that he might not have made it in time is definitely not helping his case of not passing as a completely insane idiot as his first impression.

"Only the grace of the gods themselves could have handcrafted such beauty."

"Bro."

"Oh what the fuck."

Blood has never crawled so fast up Izuku's neck as it does then, his stomach erupting with a swarm of butterflies as his heart starts trying to break a record on how fast it can work itself to death. Todoroki must be concussed, which is concerning to say the least, this ambulance should be halfway to the hospital already.

A hint of panic settles in and in all the years he's been working as a firefighter he doesn't think anything has managed to make him freeze up this way. He can feel his eyes widening and his face burning, yet he can do nothing to stop it, a small noise dying in his throat as he watches the hero's head fall back onto the gurney. Definitely concussed.

He watches as the ambulance finally leaves after he steps out, his duty calling him back to action and forcing him to put aside any feelings that may or may not have his head spinning just a little. It's unfair, he thinks, that his first time really meeting his favourite active hero not only is he on the brink of a very ironic death and spewing utter nonsense, Izuku also makes an utter fool of himself. His only hope is that whatever is making Todoroki say unbelievable things (and unhealthy for his heart too) will also be enough to make him forget this even happened.

Although, even if that was the case...

"Oh man, oh man, oh man... I can't believe you stole Todoroki's heart like that. Dude was dying, have some respect." Kirishima snickers.

"I can't fucking believe I'm gonna have to go to their fucking wedding. Such a pain in my ass Deku. You're such a nuisance."

"Wedding?!"

"I can already see it. Ice sculpture in the middle of the room. Todoroki in a beautiful white dress while Midoriya carries him down the aisle like he just did out that burning building. But this time he's running towards love."

As Kirishima wiggles his eyebrows, Izuku rolls his eyes and starts walking the other way. "You guys are the worst friends."

"We're not your fuckin' friends, shitty nerd."

"I better be your best man! We all know this ass hole doesn't deserve it. Come on Midoriya, do Red Riot a solid. You're my biggest fan, right?! Remember that?!"

Throwing himself into work to minimise casualties and damage both – some of which to his psyche –, Izuku hardly has time to think about any of it, just praying that it all goes away and fades like a bad memory in due time. And yet, when he makes it home after a very long day of controlling uncontrollable fires, a tiny part of him is freaking out that Todoroki God damn Shouto thinks he's beautiful. Godly so, apparently. It doesn't help that Kacchan is still going on about it when he gets back too.

"I swear to god. You did something to him. I don't know what it was, but the fucking idiot was talking nonsense and all he could talk about was how he saw an angel. What the fuck? A fucking angel. You. He needs an eye check."

"Thanks Kacchan. Really nice of you to say that. Do you mind keeping it down, I'm tired."

"Yeah, well, tough luck, nerd. I'm tired of hearing icy hot going on about how he's never gonna see anything so beautiful. Gross. My skin is crawling." Izuku feels the couch sinking by his feet and looks up to find Kacchan slumped into it looking like he smelled something rotten. So just his regular face, really. "Now I have to introduce you two blundering idiots."

"Huh?"

Kacchan clicks his tongue, turning to him with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl tugging at his lips. "Shitty Hair isn't gonna leave me alone if I don't. And you know how he gets if he doesn't get what he wants. Those fucking sad eyes. What a pain."

If Izuku actually had a death wish, he'd say Kacchan almost sounds fond in his aggressive kind of way of being soft for someone in particular. Either way, he's too distracted by the sudden nausea and heart palpitations at the very thought of meeting Todoroki for real, getting a chance to change their first official meeting and coming out of it as someone who can actually be his friend. And maybe something more... God Izuku, stop being such a stupid fanboy. That's creepy and weird. But perhaps an autograph, and a picture for my blog, and maybe an interview at that nice coffee shop with the cute and delicious looking cupcakes... And that sounds an awful like a date. Get a grip.

"You don't have to do that." Izuku forces himself to choke out, mentally sharpening the axe with which he plans to murder the obsessed fan living in the basement of his mind.

"And put up with the disappointed sighs and sad fucking looks you're gonna give me? No thanks. If I'm lucky, you'll move to his house and finally leave me the fuck alone."

A loud and almost hysterical laugh crawls out of him at that last part. Not because it's funny. More so because if he thinks about how much those words weigh on his chest, his mind filling with nothing but a loud cry of oh dear lord, that would be amazing, Izuku might just start crying at how pathetic it really is. So yeah, maybe laughing it off is the better option out of the two, dismissing it as the ridiculous notion it is and pretending for just a second it's not something he has been fantasizing about for the good part of two years.

He knows two of the top ten heroes personally, one of which is his housemate and childhood friend who still works regularly with the number one. Of all celebrity crushes out there, Todoroki Shouto is certainly not the most unrealistic. But that is entirely beside the point and not at all what he should be thinking about at this very moment, when Kacchan is right there, staring at him looking off into the distance like a lovesick puppy.

"You better not be thinking about him or I swear to fucking god—"

"Kacchan, please, I'm having a moment."

"A fucking gay one."

"And so what if it is?! I don't harp on you about all the hungry looks you give Kirishima-kun's abs so for once in your life, shut your damn mouth!"

Izuku storms out into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and diving for his mattress before realising he hasn't had dinner yet. Between risking facing Kacchan again after saying something like that and going without food for one night, Izuku decides that it's not really a choice and just gets into bed, snuggling under the covers and ignoring the rumbling of his stomach.

It's only after a visit from Recovery Girl and two whole days of bed rest that Shouto is finally released from the hospital, and even then, he had express orders to take the rest of the week off from hero work to fully recover from the incident. No matter how much he had protested that he was perfectly fit for duty after the first night, Iida hadn't paid him any mind. Apparently, Bakugou's reports of his condition were "wildly concerning in regards to your mental state" or something.

Shouto clicks his tongue, taking his phone out of his pocket to call a cab, not wanting to brave public transport without at least a hat to cover his annoyingly recognisable hair. He'd already considered dying it on multiple occasions just to avoid attention, but the fact that even then his face was a dead giveaway, what with the glaring red sign of 'please ask me about how I got this scar' plastered over his left eye, made it so it would be moot anyway.

Before he can even search for a number, someone claps Shouto on the back, and he instinctively grabs their wrist as he turns around to face them, right hand already beginning to freeze over their skin.

"Holy crap, dude, chill! Or I guess don't, in this case." Kirishima shouts, shaking his hand free as soon as Shouto loosens his grip with a muted apology.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's my day off. Can't I come see my friend when he's released from the hospital?"

Shouto keeps the question of whether they're actually friends to himself. Apart from joint missions, he barely talks to any of his old classmates, not counting Iida and Yaoyorozu, since they actually work with him at Idaten and he was kind of forced to get along with them. He blinks at Kirishima, face his usual expressionless mask as he suppresses an annoyed sigh.

"Well, you've seen me. I'm going home now." He says simply, looking back to his phone to finally get a cab and 'enjoy' his short, forced vacation.

"Wow, ice cold, my man. Come on, when's the last time we hung out together?"

"Never."

"Really? Damn, then this really is long overdue. I'm taking you for some drinks."

"I don't—"

"Don't worry about money, it's my treat!" That isn't at all what Shouto was going to say, but Kirishima keeps barrelling on before he has even the chance to get a word in. "I know this really awesome place, you're gonna love it."

Anything Shouto tries to say goes completely ignored as Kirishima drags him to some unknown and certainly unpleasant place. For all intents and purposes, Shouto could resist and run the other way, but something about Kirishima makes it impossible to turn down his enthusiasm without feeling like he has kicked a puppy, and despite being generally unfriendly, he isn't a monster. However unwillingly, Shouto finds himself sat in a booth, just a fizzy water in his hand while Kirishima takes large swigs from whatever alcoholic drink he decided to get, half-heartedly listening to him go on about whatever manly feat he managed to accomplish the previous day.

Shouto hardly notices that Kirishima has stopped talking at him until he hears an oddly familiar voice calling his name. Thinking it's one of Kirishima's many friends who happened to stumble upon them, Shouto starts to down the rest of his drink, ready to use the chance encounter as an excuse to leave them to socialise while he goes home to do what he was told and rest. Then he lifts his gaze towards the person, meeting wide green eyes on an impossibly red face covered in freckles, and promptly chokes on his water, coughing into one hand as he bangs his chest with the other.

What he vaguely recalled as hallucinations hits him like a ton of embarrassing bricks, because unless his dying visions happened to be prophetic, Shouto is much too certain that this (painfully beautiful) stranger was with him at that burning building. He remembers thinking some really ridiculous things, and from what Bakugou reported, he had actually said some of them out loud. Which means this person, who up until now Shouto thought didn't really exist outside of his delirious mind, had heard them.

"Oh, fuck me."

"I know he's hot, but you might wanna keep that to yourself until at least the third date." Kirishima snickers.

Not even bothering to complain about the ludicrous interpretation, Shouto glares at Kirishima for all of two seconds before averting his gaze to the corner of the room opposite of where the angel-faced stranger is suddenly walking here from.

"Midoriya! Glad you could make it!"

"Kirishima-kun," Midoriya greets, voice sounding a little strained, "you didn't say you were bringing someone with you." Shouto doesn't miss the emphasis on the word, all of his hopes that maybe whatever he had said had gone unnoticed dying on the spot.

"Yeah, my buddy Todoroki here got released from the hospital and I thought we could kill two birds with one stone. He can thank you for saving his life and you can nerd out all over him or whatever." Kirishima stands and Shouto's thoughts blank, the fact that he should probably be saying literally anything to stop what is about to happen apparently pointless to his frazzled brain. "I'll leave you guys to it. Midoriya, you practically know Todoroki already, and Todoroki, this is Midoriya, the manly firefighter that pulled you out of that building. Have fun!"

"W-wait, Kirishima-kun!"

Midoriya reaches for his friend but Kirishima just bolts out with nary another word before he has the chance to stop him. He looks as mortified as Shouto feels, which probably means whatever he said was even worse than he can imagine. Shouto doesn't think he has ever wanted to crawl into a hole and die this badly. He should have just died in that fire.

When Midoriya turns to him, Shouto doesn't even try to resist the urge to look at literally anywhere else. He already thinks Shouto is a creep, if he thinks he's a socially awkward one, at least some part of that impression will be right.

"Oh god, you remember. Of course you remember. And now that you're actually lucid you think I'm an idiot. I mean, why wouldn't you? I am an idiot. A ridiculously large one. Not like, large as in tall or fat, I'm pretty tiny all things considered, but like my stupidity exceeds the realms of reason, is what I mean. Not that you didn't get what I meant. It's not like you're an idiot. I'm the idiot here. Like I said before. But you know that already because you can't even look at me, and who can blame you, to be honest, you're you and I'm me and—"

Slowly, Shouto looks back at Midoriya, blinking stupidly at him as he babbles near unintelligibly with his arms covering his ever-reddening face. For what it's worth, his delirious thoughts were astoundingly accurate, even if a little whimsical at the edges. Whatever he was worrying about just seconds ago doesn't seem to be even remotely related to what Midoriya is apparently ranting about. It slowly dawns on him that perhaps he should put his embarrassment aside and give Kirishima's suggestion a whirl.

"Midoriya." The man's jaw snaps shut with an audible 'click' and his gaze shoots to Shouto, the expression of a deer caught in headlights on that round, freckled face. Shouto clears his throat, wondering if the reason it's hard to breathe normally is still due to his previous choking. "Thank you. For saving me."

Midoriya stares at him for so long, completely frozen in place, Shouto starts to wonder if he may have said something wrong, but before he can actually ask, something seems to fall into place inside the other's head and his eyes widen even further, the blush grows even darker. Then, all of a sudden, he looks down at his feet, scratching at the back of his head furiously as he lets out a nervous little laugh, a wobbly smile stretching across his lips.

"Ah well… it's nothing… I was just doing my job…"

Oh, dear lord, he's cute.

Shouto swallows, his stomach doing strange flips and his heartrate picking up to alarming rates. "I feel like I should buy you a drink at the very least. Since we're here."

A small, high-pitched noise crawls out of Midoriya's lips, leaving Shouto to wonder if he can produce frequencies only dogs can hear as well as he shakes his head vehemently. "No, please! You don't have to do anything like that, really! I swear to god if everyone I've ever saved bought me a drink, I'd have lost my liver by now!"

Shouto hums, curious and maybe even a little bit amused. "Is that so?"

As if just realising what exactly it was he said, Midoriya sputters. "I mean—it's not like—I wasn't bragging, I swear, it's just that—it's just my job! You could say the exact same thing, I'm sure, I just meant it as—Oh god, I'm such a dumbass."

Shouto can't help himself; a chuckle rumbles in his throat, coming out as an amused huff before he can actually stop it from going any further. He tries to mask it as a cough, but from the look of absolute defeat on Midoriya's face, he doesn't do a very good job.

"You're laughing at me."

"I'm not."

"You are. Oh god, Todoroki freaking Shouto is laughing at me. This is it, I must end my life. It's too much for me to bear."

Tilting his head slightly, Shouto raises one of his eyebrows at Midoriya's words. "I'd hardly say a stranger laughing at you would warrant such extreme measures. Not that I'm saying I am, mind you, just a casual observation."

Midoriya snorts, actually snorts – can he get even more adorable? – and slumps into the seat where Kirishima had been just a few minutes earlier. "A stranger? Do you even know who you are? Did I take too long to save you? Oh wow, if I managed to somehow screw up the number one hero's head, I'm genuinely going to find the nearest cliff and jump off of it. You're a legend, I've been following you since U.A. because you're that amazing! I'm like your biggest fan and all I've seemed to manage in the two interactions I've had with you is look like a complete jackass."

"So, saving my life doesn't count for anything?"

Once again, Midoriya chokes on his own spit as soon as he realises it, trying to amend his statement with a frantic flailing of his arms colouring his entire rant. Shouto would be lying through his teeth if he said he doesn't find it extremely endearing. When he finally trails off, burying his face in his hands with a miserable groan, Shouto simply waits for him to recover, enjoying every mumbled curse Midoriya thinks he doesn't hear.

After an oddly enjoyable small eternity of just looking at Midoriya regaining his composure, he watches as the fireman straightens his posture, pure determination shining in those large green eyes, and slams his fists on the table.

"Can I start over?"

The corners of Shouto's mouth twitch ever so slightly. "By all means."

Blushing another beautiful shade of crimson, Midoriya clears his throat, averting his gaze to his hands to take a deep breath before looking back up at him, the most blindingly bright smile dancing on pink lips and knocking the breath right out of Shouto's lungs. "Hi, my name is Midoriya Izuku and I am absolutely delighted to finally meet you! I have admired you for a really long time!"

Fanbases were never something Shouto enjoyed very much. He doesn't like being in the spotlight, the centre of attention, isn't sure he deserves it to begin with. It's hard to keep hating all the fame when now Midoriya's face pops into his mind whenever he thinks about it, though. Whether that's a good or a bad thing, Shouto is still deciding, and there's no better way to do that than to test the waters.

"Midoriya Izuku, it's a pleasure. Thank you. How about that drink, then?"

"You really don't have to—"

"I insist. I wouldn't feel right if I didn't."

"O-okay then… I suppose it would be rude to refuse. B-but I'll buy you one next time!" Before Shouto can even react Midoriya pales. "I-I mean—"

"Sounds good to me."

"Huh?" Shouto almost wishes he could snap a picture of Midoriya's stunned expression. His delirious thoughts weren't that whimsical after all. "Oh. Um… okay… yeah, okay… s-sounds good." Midoriya scratches at his cheek, smiling sheepishly to himself. "Thanks…"

Shouto orders another carbonated water while Midoriya asks for a cider for himself, a somewhat awkward silence falling between them as they wait. Midoriya fidgets nervously, clearly wanting to say something but too afraid or nervous to do it and Shouto doesn't quite know how to break the ice. Unironically, making it is all he seems to know how to do. Still, he feels like he should at least try to make it a little easier for Midoriya to relax, if only because he is so painfully curious to know more about him.

"So, a firefighter?"

"Yeah… I wanted to be a hero like All Might, a-and like you, but… can't do that if I'm quirkless, apparently, so I settled for the best I could do with what I do have." Midoriya takes a sip of his cider. "I still get to save lives and meet the pros, though, so that's good. It's really good."

Staring in awe at the little smile on Midoriya's face as he picks at the label on the bottle, Shouto feels his heart flutter once again, worrying if something might be wrong with it.

"You like heroes, then."

Something sparks in Midoriya's eyes at that, as if a switch has suddenly been flipped and he beams. Without warning, he starts on a rant with no end in sight, prattling on with an aura of unbridled joy exuding out of him, a blog about heroes, quirks, potential uses and how to make them even stronger and so on. The amount of information stored in that brain of his is astounding, and Shouto can only sit quietly and listen, completely captivated by everything he's saying even if he only catches about one in five words from how fast he speaks.

"So, yeah, as you can see, I've been analysing quirks for a long time but I would love to do a more in-depth analysis of yours in particular if you would let me… If I could get an interview from you, I'd be… I'd be set. It'd be a dream come true."

The hidden request catches Shouto off guard and for a split second he almost agrees without question. But then he really thinks about the implications of what talking about his quirk might entail and he takes a step back, defensive.

"You don't—you don't have to, of course! I was just… dreaming out loud it's… it's nothing really…"

Ill-concealed sadness dims the glint in Midoriya's eyes and Shouto feels like he's been punched in the chest. He bites the inside of his cheek, considering every possible outcome and finding each one less appealing than the last, but that look of someone who has just had their hopes inadvertently crushed plagues him. Leaning on his elbows, Shouto puffs out a chilly breath, noticing how Midoriya seems to shiver slightly. He curses himself for letting his emotions take control of his quirk so easily.

Perhaps a critical eye to how he could improve wouldn't be so unwelcome.

"Okay. What would you like to know that I can tell you?"

Midoriya does a double take, blinking owlishly at him before stuttering out a disbelieving "R-really? Right now?" Shouto nods. "Oh. Oh my god, okay, I was not ready for this, I need my notebook—no, my phone will do, and I can remember most of it anyway. Okay, this is fine, this is perfect. If I ask anything you're not comfortable answering, just say so and I'll move on."

With another curt nod, Shouto takes a sip of his drink. Most of Midoriya's questions are harmless; whether he uses his quirk for mundane activities like chilling a drink, or how long it takes for the frostbite to set in, whether he can regulate his own body temperature on a daily basis or if a hot day is just as bothersome for him as anyone else. He answers them without much problem, some making him think more than others, but then comes the question he was expecting from the very beginning.

"Why don't you use fire?"

"I have my reasons."

Midoriya only hums in response, rubbing at his chin, thoughtful. "I won't ask anything further, then." Shouto starts relaxing at that, tensing right back up when the other continues. "You're limiting yourself though. You're only letting your power reach half of its potential."

"I don't need that half." Shouto says, an air of finality to him that he hopes is enough to deter Midoriya from prying any more.

Sitting there, gnawing at his bottom lip, it almost looks like Midoriya is physically biting back whatever he has to say. With a heavy sigh, he nods, seemingly to himself and stops the recording on his phone. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push any boundaries. It just seemed to me like… you were sad when you said that."

Shouto narrows his eyes at the comment and can't stop himself from asking "Sad how?"

For a moment, Midoriya stares into his eyes and Shouto feels naked, crossing his arms over his chest in an unconscious attempt to cover himself. "Like even thinking about using fire hurts you."

"I won't use anything of his if I can help it." Shouto blurts out without thinking, immediately regretting the words.

Confusion settles on Midoriya's features and he tilts his head to one side. "His? You mean Endeavor's?" Every fibre of Shouto's being pulls taut at the mention of his father's hero name, bracing himself for the slew of questions on why he would not want to take his gift and follow in his footsteps when he is such an amazing hero even today. And then… "But it's your power, isn't it? Your quirk, not his."

His mouth opens and he is ready to protest, but no actual sounds come. Instead, he simply gapes at Midoriya, the words lingering in his mind, so simple yet throwing everything off so drastically it's all he can do to hold on to any semblance of balance. Such a simple phrase and it's enough to shake the foundations of everything he's ever known. Shouto doesn't know how to react.

"It's unique to you. Half cold, half hot. Sure, part of it may be similar, but it doesn't make it any less your own. At the end of the day, it's what you do with it that matters."

Instinctively, Shouto reaches for the left side of his face, stopping halfway and dropping his hand back on the table, Midoriya following his every movement. "You don't understand."

"Maybe I don't." He says simply, his gaze softening. "But I know I'd want to give it my all."

Shouto hums, deep in thought, conflict flooding his every sense. Years of his life are suddenly cast in the shadows of doubt and Shouto feels just a little lost. Though, he doesn't feel angry or annoyed, like he initially thought he would be should the conversation lead here, everything about him is simply confused and uncertain.

"What if that power came from something evil?" Shouto finds himself asking, searching for any sort of answers amidst the fog that has suddenly settled inside him.

"All the more reason to turn it into something good, I'd say."

"Things aren't that simple."

"They can be. If you want to, that is."

With a trembling breath, the bottle in his right hand covering in a thin layer of frost, Shouto starts to stand. Midoriya follows suit, not a hint of remorse behind the confusing mix of emotions shining in his eyes.

Leaving enough money to pay for the drinks, including Kirishima's, Shouto stops in front of Midoriya for a heartbeat, taking one more step away before turning to him once more.

"Why did you want to become a hero?"

"To save everyone with a smile." And that he does, beaming up at him blindingly bright.

Nodding, Shouto starts for the exit. "I'll see you around, Midoriya."

"I'd like that." Midoriya says behind him, and if Shouto didn't know any better, he'd say it sounds hopeful.

As he walks the still busy streets back to his apartment, Shouto pulls out his phone and does a quick search for Midoriya's blog, finding posts upon posts of quirk analysis on many of the heroes active today and that came before him. Here and there he spots posts about himself, surprisingly accurate and thorough analysis on his quirk, interesting theories on how he may have ended up with a seemingly dual quirk and other loose bits of mostly irrelevant information.

Such a brilliantly curious and eager mind, such a driven personality, fascinated by the quirks he could never have and still doing his best with everything he had. Shouto's almost decades long resolve starts to crack. When he finally sits down on the side of his bed, Shouto stares intently at his left hand, pins and needles prickling all over his fingertips, a million questions dancing around in his mind as he wonders for just a moment… why did I become a hero?

Little wisps of fire flare for a few seconds, flickering a moment then dying the next as he closes his fist and clenches his jaw. With a heavy sigh, he lets himself fall onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as his doubts claw at him from the inside out. "But I know I'd want to give it my all." His all, huh?

Shouto lifts his left arm towards the sky, opening and closing his hand and watching, thinking. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he opens his palm, letting a small flame breathe into life for a few heartbeats, watching as it dances, as if alive. The flame feels warm in his hand, gentle rather than furious, almost shy in the way it shimmers when he finally exhales and it falters, snuffing out in an instant.

Without a second thought, Shouto reaches for his phone and searches for Kirishima's number, sending him a quick text to somehow get his contact to Midoriya then throwing the device to the opposite end of the bed. He turns on his left side, wondering if it is all just one big mistake, fuelled by the misguided foolishness of a lonely heart softening in the face of a gentle smile and a tender gaze. The face of an angel…

Huffing, Shouto closes his eyes, ignoring the strange fluttering inside his stomach as he keeps seeing that genuine excitement shining in brilliant emerald eyes, the passion, the desire to be better than the cards he was dealt. In light of that, Shouto feels like nothing but a farce. It's odd, he thinks, how one single person can inspire such a shift in perspective in so little time, with so little words.

He has a lot to consider. For the first time since he left the hospital, Shouto actually believes that these days off might be useful. If only just to make sense of everything Midoriya said, of everything it made him feel, of all the unfamiliar emotions swirling around in his chest and making everything just a little too hard to sift through. Shouto hopes to see him again soon. Perhaps that way he can actually help him understand why everything he believed now seems so pointless.

Midoriya Izuku. The angel that saved me and proceeded to bring down everything I built in just two short encounters. An angel of destruction, it seems. Shouto can hardly wait to find out more.