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Shouto’s never been on a boat before. It isn’t something he’d ever registered as being strange. People don’t talk about boats all that much unless they’re at the beach or some other body of water, so it’s never come up in conversation with any of his friends at UA. It isn’t until class 2A is on the way to a training camp that it’s brought up for the first time. The camp is being run on an island, about a four hour boat ride from the mainland.
They arrive at the harbour around midday after a two hour bus ride. Most of the students are chattering excitedly, commenting animatedly to each other about the trip ahead as they climb out of the UA bus.
Shouto runs a hand through his hair, stifling a yawn behind his fist as he steps out onto the pavement. There’s a sharp bite to the air, carried by the cool wind that whips off the water. As he looks out to sea, he can see little white caps lifting into the air. A shiver runs up his back and he quickly pulls his jacket tighter around himself. He’s grateful the boat they’re travelling on has an undercover glassed in section where they can shelter. It’s going to be cold on the water with this weather.
“Whoa, do you see that boat bouncing around out there!”
Shouto looks up, eyes following the voice to see Mina pointing out at the water. She’s bouncing slightly where she stands, clearly trying to keep warm even as she gestures excitedly.
“Looks like it’s gonna be a rough trip,” Kirishima puts in.
Shouto silently agrees. Even if he’s never been on a boat before, he knows enough to recognise rough seas.
They wait outside for another fifteen minutes, shivering in the cold as Aizawa goes over logistics inside and gets them checked in.
When he finally returns, the students are all eager to get inside, ready to be anywhere that isn’t out in the bracing wind.
Shouto follows along with them. He isn’t quite sure what to expect, but the boat seems nice. It’s a bit smaller than he’d anticipated. Nothing like the cruise ships Fuyumi used to show him pictures of. There’s a small outdoor seating area, with cushioned benches lining either side and a flattened deck area next to the inner walls. Most of the seating is inside though, sheltered under large glass windows.
They all file inside, splitting up into the rows of seats as they chat animatedly to each other.
The seating is randomised, and Shouto ends up next to Mina and Kaminari. He gets a window seat though, which is nice because despite the bad weather, he thinks the scenery will probably be really interesting on the journey over. Izuku had told him all about it during the bus ride after researching the island training camp intensively during the week prior to their trip.
Next to him, Kaminari and Mina continue to chat, discussing a movie they’d seen over the weekend in depth. Shouto hasn’t seen the movie, so he tunes them out, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check for messages.
There’s one from Izuku, and Shouto smiles a little as he reads it.
(12:15pm) Izuku: Enjoy the trip! I think I’m on the opposite side of the boat, but we can catch up once we arrive :)
(12:17pm) Shouto: Sounds good
He shuts off his phone then, sliding it back into his pocket and turning to look out the window. His eyes begin to droop almost as soon as he stills and he can’t quite fight back another yawn.
“Sleepy?” Mina says, pulling away from her conversation with Kaminari to smile at Shouto.
“Yes,” Shouto replies. He didn’t sleep much the night before, and being in any kind of transport vehicle always sends him straight to sleep. Boats, it seems, are no exception.
“You should sleep! Let us know if we’re too loud though and we can totally tone it down a bit.”
Shouto nods, offering her a small smile back.
“Perfect! Now Kami, let me show you this new game I just downloaded!” She turns back to Kaminari, leaving Shouto to his own thoughts again.
He turns back to the window, shuffling down a little in his seat to get more comfortable. Sleeping sounds like a pretty good idea, so he rests his head against the cool glass window, watching the water dance with the wind until his eyes slowly drift closed.
~*~
He isn’t sure what wakes him. There’s a strange humming sound filling his ears, drowning his senses just enough to make him feel disorientated and strange. Heavy lidded eyes drag open as he pushes himself away from the window. Everything seems to be moving around him, tipping and swooping. Is he still dreaming? He’s pretty sure the floor shouldn’t be moving so intensely. It’s strange, unsettling, making his head spin as his eyes try to grasp onto his surroundings.
He gives his head a little shake, trying to clear his senses enough to put together the hazy pieces of where he is.
“Todoroki?”
He blinks, head snapping towards the voice. Mina.
“Hm?” The question comes as a soft hum. He’s distracted, mind finally registering where he is. A boat. Of course. Boats move up and down like this. So the ground is actually moving. He isn’t quite sure how he feels about that.
“You were like, solidly asleep. I tried to wake you when they brought snacks around, but you were dead to the world!” She laughs, eyes sparking with amusement. “I saved yours for you, even though Kami wanted to eat it.” Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a small plastic wrapped piece of brownie.
“Only if he didn’t want it!” Kaminari protests.
“You literally weren’t going to ask him. You were about to eat it!” Mina shoots back.
Shouto tunes them out. He looks down at the slightly squished brownie in his hand, running his finger over the plastic wrapping. Honestly, he doesn’t really want it, so he wouldn’t have cared if Kaminari ate it while he slept. Which is strange because sweets are usually something he enjoys, but something just feels off. He can’t quite place his finger on what, but his whole body feels unsettled and food seems like an altogether bad idea.
“You can have it,” he says, holding the brownie out to Kaminari.
Kaminari pauses, stretching around Mina so he can look straight at Shouto. “Are you sure? I already ate my own one so it’s really okay.”
“I’m sure,” Shouto says. He reaches his hand out a little further, motioning for Kaminari to take the proffered sweet.
“Oh, hold on! Split it with me.” Kaminari takes the cake and breaks it apart, holding out the slightly larger half to Shouto. “Here!”
Refusing it now would be rude, so Shouto takes the brownie, bringing it to his lips and biting into the sweet cake. His stomach gives a little flutter at the taste, twisting uncomfortably as he chews and swallows. It feels thick and unpleasant in his mouth, clumping up into a sticky mass that seems to lodge itself at the back of his throat.
Reaching down into his bag, he pulls out his water bottle and takes a quick swig. Cool water fills his mouth, mixing with the sticky brownie mixture until it creates a disgustingly warm sludge. Swallowing is almost harder with the water, but he chokes it down, following it quickly with another gulp of water.
He glances over at the other two, hoping they haven’t noticed his struggle, but they seem completely preoccupied with another conversation about the brownies. Swallowing one last gulp of water, he tucks the bottle away in his backpack and pulls out his phone to check the time. 1:40pm. So he’d been asleep for just over an hour.
He unlocks his phone and scrolls to tiktok. He still isn’t quite sure what the unsettled sensation he’s feeling is, but his current guess is anxiety and watching silly cat videos tends to help when he’s feeling anxious.
Ten minutes of cat videos later and he’s feeling decidedly worse. He feels slightly dizzy, like his equilibrium has been thrown off. It’s a little like getting off a spinny ride and being unable to walk for a few minutes while your body resets. His stomach is unsettled too, sloshing and churning with all the water he’d chugged along with the brownie.
Just thinking about it brings a sudden wave of nausea swelling up through his chest. He swallows, shutting off his phone in favour of looking out the window. Outside, waves jump and leap into the air, sending white foam spraying up into the heavily clouded skies. If he thought the first part of the journey was rough, it’s nothing compared to what they’re experiencing now. The boat rocks back and forth, moving in great shuddering swoops as it slices through the waves. The steady thrum of an engine fills the air, drowning out the sounds of chatter from around the boat. He leans back in his seat, resting his head against the headrest of his chair. His stomach rolls over again, dropping in time with the ocean around them.
Suddenly, he’s way too hot, which doesn’t make sense since the weather is so stormy, but he tugs up the sleeves of his hoodie anyway. Cool air hits his bare arms and he gives a tiny sigh of content. The relief is short lived though, disappearing as another rush of queasiness spreads through his chest. It twinges deep within, crawling slowly up the back of his throat with paralysing determination.
He swallows thickly, bringing a hand up to brush the hair away from his face. Everything suddenly feels too much. The world dips and sways around him, moving constantly in erratic patterns that seem to upset his body more with every passing moment.
Is he seasick? The horrible thought sinks into his mind, and as soon as he thinks it, he’s almost certain it’s true.
Slowly, carefully, he leans to the side, pressing his forehead against the glass. He needs to stay calm, try to get his anxiety under control because that will only make things worse. Letting his eyes slip closed, he takes a few slow, even breaths, willing his stomach to settle. It takes a few attempts, but he manages to quell the waves of nausea enough that he feels a little more stable. Tentatively, he opens his eyes, and when the world doesn’t careen out of focus immediately, the reaches down to pull out his phone.
His fingers tremble a little as he turns on the device and navigates to google. How to help with seasickness, he types. Opening the first webpage, he quickly scans the instructions. The site suggests lying down, sleeping, and looking at the horizon, along with sucking on ginger candy, which he doesn’t have. Lying down isn’t possible either and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep now, so he turns to look out the window again. The horizon is slightly wobbly with all the waves, but he fixes his eyes on it. As he stares out the window, he continues his breathing exercises, counting slowly in his head to ground himself and keep track of the breaths.
It seems to work for a little while, at least until Mina pulls out a container of food from her backpack. She opens the lid and the spicy aroma of curry fills the air.
Shouto feels his throat tighten at the smell, stomach sloshing uncomfortably. Suddenly he’s hyperaware of every movement of the boat. His fingers clench against his pants, sweaty palms pressing against the fabric. Dizziness shudders through him, moving in waves along with the nausea. It spreads over him in a suffocating rush, overwhelmingly strong. He swallows, turns away from Mina to look out the window.
She’s eating now, dipping chopsticks into the container. The smell that would usually bring pleasure to Shouto only serves to heighten the nausea. All too soon, his mouth is filling with saliva. His tongue feels hot and heavy, like it’s grown to fill his entire mouth. Everything feels like it’s moving, which of course it is, but now it feels like his body is spinning on top of things. How is everyone else functioning normally with all this turmoil? Why is he feeling so indescribably awful?
“You okay?”
It’s Mina. She sounds concerned and Shouto wants to reassure her. Tell her he’s fine and there’s nothing wrong, even if that’s miles from the truth. He can’t bring himself to move though. The nausea is hovering barely under his control, and he doesn’t want to think about what will happen if he does move. So he gives a tiny, noncommittal grunt, keeping his body turned and faced toward the window.
Mina seems to take that as an opportunity to pry further, and he can’t really blame her. Even for a quiet person like himself, the answer is strange.
“Did something happen? Are you upset? We can talk about it if you want! Me and Denks might not be your go to people but we’re happy to listen.”
“Yeah!” Kaminari adds, a wide grin spreading across his face. He turns as well, tilting his head so he can look around Mina at Shouto. “We’re totally here to listen if you want. You don’t gotta be embarrassed.”
They’re being so nice. Shouto should be grateful, but in that moment, he just wants them to stop talking. His stomach churns steadily, swooping in time with each heaving motion of the boat. His neck feels sweaty now too, weird and uncomfortably sticky. He wants to take his hoodie off, but he’d have to move to remove it, and that’s beyond his realm of capability at the moment.
Squeezing his eyes closed once more, he takes a slow, shaky breath, and forces a few words through gritted teeth. “I’m fine.” It sounds unnatural to his own ears, and he thinks it’s pretty clear that he isn’t fine, but his head is swirling and his stomach feels moments away from forcing its contents up his throat.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound very fine,” Mina continues. She sounds genuinely worried now, playfulness completely dropped from her voice.
Shouto nods, even as more hot saliva pools in his mouth. Nausea spreads across his chest like a sea of tiny ants, crawling and creeping through his body. The back of his throat seems to ache, tightening as it hovers on the edge of a gag.
“We could play a game,” Kaminari suggests. He grabs his switch from where it rests in his lap, waving it encouragingly at Shouto. “I got this new game where you get to play as a cat. I think you’d really like it.”
Shouto can’t respond. He can barely even process what Kaminari’s saying. His whole body is gripped by nausea and all of his attention is fixed on trying to hold it back, control it. Keep himself steady and grounded so he doesn’t fall apart and make an absolute fool of himself.
“If you’re hungry, I’m happy to share my lunch!” Mina offers, clearly not picking up on the reason behind Shouto’s distress. She picks up the container and holds it out towards Shouto, smiling encouragingly.
That’s all it takes to send Shouto over the edge. The scent of curry fills his senses and the nausea surges upward in response, rising so quickly it feels like it’s going to swallow him. He turns away from the window, sweaty fingers gripping the armrest as he moves to get up. He can’t get out of the row without asking the others to move though, so he has to say something. Right now.
“Sorry, uh, actually I’m not feeling so great suddenly. I think—” His stomach gives a pre-emptive heave, cutting off his sentence with a harsh gag.
“Oh, oh!” Mina cries in alarm. “Okay, um. Okay.” She sounds panicked, voice rising in pitch as she stares in horror at Shouto’s trembling form.
Kaminari is no better. His eyes are blown wide, mouth open in a silent exclamation of surprise.
Shouto sits there, paralysed in his seat as he swallows and gulps down the saliva that keeps spilling into his mouth. It’s hot and sticky and each swallow ramps up the nausea. He needs to get out of there. Get to the bathroom. Does this boat even have a bathroom? He thinks it must, since the trip is over four hours, but he doesn’t know where it is, and even if he did, he doubts he would make it there in time. He isn’t even sure if he can walk with the way the ship is plunging and the dizziness overtaking his whole body.
“Do they have motion sickness bags on boats?” Kaminari asks, turning around frantically as he tries to locate anything that might help with the impending sickness.
Mina starts talking frantically, probably responding to Kaminari, or asking Shouto more questions. He isn’t sure because his ears are suddenly ringing as his body is overcome by nausea. Not knowing what else to do, he leans over the side of the seat, head hanging over the footwell. Trembling hands cup in front of his face just as he heaves again. It’s sharp, violent, bringing up a mouthful of sour liquid into his cupped hands. It’s hot and slimy against his skin and he feels a shudder of disgust run through him. Every instinct screams at him to pull his hands away and wipe them off, but he forces himself to hold steady.
Shivers run up and down his body and he can feel himself trembling. Voices blur together, tone urgent even though he can’t make out the actual words. Another shudder runs through him, nausea lapping at his throat, and then he’s lurching forward again. The next heave brings up more, and his hands are no longer enough to contain it. Hurriedly, he slides his feet to the side, moving them out of the way as vomit splatters onto the floor.
There’s movement then, a hand lying tentatively on his back. It pats gently, hesitantly almost. “Okay, okay, um… yeah,” Mina mumbles, sounding extremely out of her depth.
Shame washes over Shouto in great waves, rising higher and higher as the reality of the situation finally kicks in. He just threw up. On a boat. All over the floor. And everyone will know because the whole class is there on this boat and they’re stuck in the middle of the ocean, so there’s nowhere for him to go.
“Sorry,” he croaks. His voice is ragged and harsh, both from stomach acid and the emotional humiliation of what just happened.
“It’s… okay. You’re okay. Here.”
Something brushes against his arm and he blinks to find a handful of tissues held out in front of him.
He takes them gratefully, sluggishly wiping the vomit from his face and hands. It doesn’t get rid of it completely, but it helps. When he finishes, he wads them up into a little ball and sets them on the floor. On the floor right next to the mess he’d made because he wasn’t fast enough to make it to the bathroom. A fresh wave of shame wells inside, bringing a painful stinging to his eyes. He blinks hard, fighting back the sudden overwhelming urge to cry.
“I need—gonna go—bathroom,” he forces the words through gritted teeth, getting to his feet and trying to push past Mina and Kaminari.
They seem to take the hint, hurriedly jumping from their seats and into the main hallway of the boat to let Shouto past.
He steps out of the little row of seats, cringing as he steps over the little puddle of vomit on the floor. He doesn’t say anything to the other two, just pushes past them to turn away from their row. As he makes his way along the boat, he keeps his gaze downward. Walking is hard with the way the craft sways and dips. The continued dizziness doesn’t help, only serving to make him feel even more horrible. He still isn’t sure where the bathroom is, but he somehow manages to locate it near the bow of the boat.
It’s a single stall bathroom, and the door is closed with a little red occupied symbol over the lock. Great.
His stomach gives another uncomfortable swoop and he presses up against the wall, leaning the side of his head against it as he waits. The act of throwing up only seemed to lessen the nausea a little and it still rages through his body. He’s pretty sure he isn’t in danger of getting sick again immediately, but he doesn’t know how long that will last. Part of him wants to sit down on the floor next to the bathroom. It might help with the dizziness spinning through his head. But embarrassment keeps him from going through with the act. So he just rests his head against the wall and fixes his gaze on the little yellow fluorescent emergency tape that runs along the floor.
He’s so focused on the spot, that he doesn’t notice another figure approaching.
“Oi, Halfie.”
Shouto startles, gaze rising quickly at the sudden voice. “There’s a line,” he says stiffly, purposefully not meeting Katsuki’s eyes.
Katsuki’s lips twitch slightly, eyes narrowing as he looks Shouto up and down. “Wow, you look like shit.”
Shouto doesn’t reply, just goes back to staring at the floor. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, especially Katsuki.
Katsuki seems determined to ignore those cues though. “I always thought turning green was an expression, but you actually look green.”
Shouto stays silent, turning his head away to show he doesn’t want to talk. What’s taking the person in the bathroom so long? Surely they should be done soon. His concept of time is a little warped though with everything, and he isn’t actually sure how long he’s been standing there.
“Oi, can you hear me?”
Katsuki seems extra persistent today. When Shouto still doesn’t respond, he takes another step forward, trying to get a better look at his face.
“Fuck, are you actually okay?”
No, Shouto isn’t okay, but he’s not going to admit that. “Yes,” he says as calmly as he can manage. “I’m fine.”
Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Right. Like I’m going to believe that. You’re clearly seasick. Did you take anything before the trip?”
At that, Shouto pauses. He doesn’t completely meet Katsuki’s gaze, but he lifts his head, turning slightly towards him. “Like what?”
“You know—Yoidome, Travelmin.”
No, Shouto didn’t know. The names are unfamiliar and he isn’t sure why Katsuki’s acting like this is common knowledge. “I don’t know what that is.”
Katsuki looks at him straight on, a scoff of surprise rising from his lips. “Fuck, that explains why you look about thirty seconds away from puking. They’re motion sickness meds. Most people take them before getting on the boat if they get seasick.”
Shouto thinks Katsuki’s being a little unfair. He didn’t know he was going to get seasick and even if he did, he’d never heard of these medications. “I’ve never been on a boat before,” he says somewhat defensively. He really isn’t feeling well and the boat is still shuddering and the stupid bathroom door is still closed. He doesn’t want to talk to Katsuki anymore.
That seems to surprise Katsuki, but he quickly covers it up with another annoyed scoff. “Well clearly you don’t handle them well.”
Shouto has to agree with that statement. His first time on a boat is shaping out to be a very unpleasant experience.
Just then, the bathroom door bangs open, revealing a mother and two young kids holding on tight to her legs to keep from falling over with the rocking motion of the boat.
Shouto immediately steps away from the wall and pushes inside the little room. His footsteps are somewhat shaky, but he manages to make it inside without stumbling. He doesn’t say anything to Katsuki, just closes the door and slides the lock across.
The space is small and cramped and the motion seems somehow even more pronounced tucked inside the tiny bathroom. Before he couldn’t wait to reach the solace of the little room, but now he isn’t sure how long he can stay inside.
With shaking fingers, he turns on the tap and dips his soiled hands under the water. Three washes later, he finally feels clean enough to splash some water on his face as well. It helps a little with the lingering queasiness and he lets out a tiny sigh of relief as he grabs a few paper towels to dry his face and hands. Once he’s done cleaning up, he stands there another couple of moments, unsure what to do next. He can’t very well stay in the bathroom for the remainder of the trip, but what else is he supposed to do? There’s no way he’s going back to his other seat with Kaminari and Mina. Even as he thinks about it, guilt crawls up his throat. He left them alone with a horrible disgusting mess he caused and now he isn’t even going back to help clean up. But he can’t face them after what happened. Not when he’s still feeling so sick.
The lack of windows in the little bathroom is starting to get to him though, ramping up the nausea enough that he knows he needs to get out of there. Reluctantly, he slides back the lock and pushes open the door.
To his surprise, Katsuki is still outside. He’s leaning against the wall where Shouto had stood before. His phone is out and his gaze is fixed on the screen, but he looks up when Shouto exits the bathroom.
“Did you throw up?” he asks, shoving his phone back in his pocket.
“No,” Shouto says immediately. “Not just now.”
“But you did before?”
Shouto doesn’t answer.
“Right.” Katsuki looks unconvinced, but doesn’t press further, something Shouto’s very grateful for.
He isn’t entirely sure what to do now, but before he can think too hard on it, Katsuki’s speaking again. “Here.” He shoves a little bubble packet of pills into Shouto’s hands, along with a water bottle. “You’re supposed to take it half an hour before getting on the boat, but we might as well try some now.”
Shouto stares down at the pills, blinking as he tried to read the label on the side.
“It’s Travelmin,” Katsuki scoffs.
“Oh.” Unscrewing the cap on the water bottle, he pops out one of the pills and swallows it down with a few mouthfuls of water. He doesn’t feel any different, but he hopes it will start to work soon because he’s still feeling decidedly queasy. The boat sways beneath them, dipping and rolling. A fresh wave of dizziness slams over Shouto, sending him stumbling slightly. He reaches out, bracing his arm against the wall next to the bathroom. Maybe he should just stay here. It’s probably the safest place considering the bathroom is right there if he needs to throw up again. He really wishes he could lay down though. Everything is spinning and his stomach is doing little uncomfortable leaps.
“Come on,” Katsuki says suddenly, cutting Shouto out of his thoughts.
Before he can register what’s happening, Katsuki is grabbing hold of his wrist and dragging him away from the wall.
He tries to protest, but the words get stuck in his throat, and he doesn’t really know what he would say anyway, so he lets himself be led.
They walk past the other rows of seats, all the way to the stern where a couple stairs lead up to the little door leading outside. “You need some fresh air,” Katsuki explains as he pushes the door open and tugs Shouto outside.
As soon as he steps past the door, a blast of cold air hits him straight in the face. It’s raining slightly, a light drizzle that coats the deck in a slippery wet sheen. It feels nice against his face, cool and refreshing. He opens his mouth and sucks in a deep breath of air, then another. Katsuki was right. Fresh air was exactly what he needed.
Apparently, there’s still more to Katsuki’s plan though because he’s already tugging on Shouto’s wrist again, wordlessly dragging him further out onto the ship. There’s a little secluded nook right next to the inner walls that’s partially sheltered from the rain, and they stop there.
Shouto immediately sits down, legs feeling too wobbly to stand anymore. He’s still quite dizzy, but feeling significantly better after stepping outside into the fresh air.
“Tch. ‘s fucking cold out here,” Katsuki grumbles, but moves to sit next to Shouto on the deck, back pressed up against the smooth wall.
Shouto doesn’t mind the cold right now. It’s so much better than the stifling heat that had plagued him almost the entire journey. He knows Katsuki doesn’t like cold weather though, and he feels a little bad that he’s sitting outside with him.
They sit in silence for a while. Shouto looks out to sea, watching the rain fall in steady sheets to splash against the rising white capped waves. It’s kind of nice to watch, even if he is still feeling pretty queasy.
“How long do the meds take to work?” he asks finally, breaking the silence.
Katsuki startles, looking up from where he’d been texting on his phone. “It’s only been ten fucking minutes. They’ll take at least half an hour. If they even work now.”
Shouto nods, eyes still fixed on the horizon. He can feel the deck pitch and roll beneath him, moving in horrible rolling motions that upset his equilibrium even more. He wishes they could just stop moving for a few minutes. Long enough for the medication to kick in and for him to start feeling a little better. He thinks if he could just get a hold of the motion sickness, he would be okay. But they’re stuck out here in the middle of the ocean and there’s no way they can stop until they reach the island. He isn’t even sure how much longer is left of the trip. He could ask Katsuki, but his chest is starting to tingle with fresh nausea again, and he really doesn’t want to risk opening his mouth. Keeping up a conversation seems like an impossible task right now anyway, so he stays silent.
As he sits there, he feels his phone buzz insistently in his pocket. He didn’t even realise he had his phone with him. Pulling it out, he drags his gaze away from the water and peers down at the screen. There are several new messages—a few of them are from Mina and Kaminari, asking where he is, but the most recent ones are from Izuku.
(2:04pm) Izuku: Hey! Where are you?
(2:04pm) Izuku: I heard what happened :(
(2:04pm) Izuku: Mina and Denki don’t know where you went though and I’m really starting to worry
(2:07pm) Izuku: Please respond
(2:07pm) Izuku: I know you’re probably embarrassed but I won’t judge
(2:08pm) Izuku: I’m just really worried
When Izuku texts, he usually texts in bunches, and this time is the same. Shouto blinks down at the screen, fingers hovering as he tries to figure out what to say. He doesn’t want Izuku to see him like this, but if he doesn’t respond, he knows he’ll just come looking for him anyway. Or worse, get Aizawa involved.
(2:10pm) Shouto: I’m outside with Bakugou
The response is immediate.
(2:10pm) Izuku: Todoroki! Okay, hold on, I’m coming out there. Do you need anything?
(2:10pm) Shouto: No
Katsuki’s watching him through the corner of his eye, seemingly trying to gauge what Shouto’s doing, but Shouto ignores him. He tucks his phone back in his pocket and returns his gaze to the ocean. Looking down really didn’t help with the lingering nausea, and he’s suddenly feeling a lot less confident about the medication working in time to prevent another bout of sickness.
“You shouldn’t look at your fucking phone,” Katsuki scoffs.
“I know.” Shouto doesn’t look towards the other, but he can tell Katsuki’s watching him.
A moment later, the slam of a door echoes through the steady drum of rain, and then Izuku’s standing in front of him, eyes blown wide with concern.
“Todoroki!” He steps forward, sinking to his knees next to the other two. “Are you okay?”
“He’s fucking seasick,” Katsuki supplies before Shouto can respond.
Izuku glances towards him and then back to Shouto, already launching into a mutter storm. “I didn’t know you got seasick. You should’ve told me. We could have got you meds and stuff before the trip—or—did you take any meds?”
Shouto nods, then shakes his head, then shrugs, because he doesn’t really know what the correct answer is. “Just now,” he says. His voice comes out rough and tight, and he coughs, trying to clear it. “Bakugou gave me some.”
“Okay, okay, good. Hopefully those will help a bit, but if not, sitting outside is a good idea.”
“Of course it fucking is. I know what I’m doing,” Katsuki scoffs. “Idiot would still be floundering below deck next to the bathroom if it weren’t for me.”
The two of them continue to talk, but Shouto tunes them out as much as he can. His stomach is doing summersaults again and he needs all of his energy focused on keeping its contents where they belong.
He stares out at the horizon, sitting perfectly still and trying to breathe slowly through his nose. It works for a bit, sort of, but then the nausea is rising again, fast and fierce and unrelenting. He hunches over slightly, one hand curling to wrap around his stomach.
The motion must catch the others’ attention, because suddenly Izuku’s voice is directed towards him again. “Todoroki? Are you feeling sick again?”
He doesn’t answer, just keeps staring and staring because the horizon is his only lifeline now and he’s not going to let it go. Queasiness spreads out across his chest, tingling as it eagerly rushes through his body to collect at the back of his throat. He doesn’t want to throw up again. He can’t. He needs to hold out just a little longer until the medication starts working and then he’ll be okay. He just needs a few more minutes. Then everything will be okay.
But his body has other ideas. He isn’t sure if the water is actually rougher now or if he’s just noticing the motion more with the fresh queasiness, but it feels like he’s spinning in place. His head throbs, twisting with dizziness. Suddenly he feels a little like he might pass out. His whole body seems to vibrate with nausea and he can’t do this. He needs to lie down or something. Get horizontal, because he doesn’t think he can sit upright anymore. He just feels so awful.
Clumsily, he pushes away from the wall and slides down onto the slightly damp deck. He keeps his head facing outwards, still desperately watching the horizon.
Izuku lets out a small gasp of alarm. “Todoroki?”
Shouto doesn’t have it in himself to respond. He wants to tell Izuku he’s fine, but he needs all of his energy to keep himself from throwing up. He shifts a little on the floor, accidentally nudging his head into Katsuki’s thigh.
“Oi, what the fuck? Why are you lying on the ground?”
He does not want to be yelled at by Katsuki right now, so he ignores him. It isn’t worth arguing anyway.
“Are you feeling nauseous?” Izuku asks. His voice is gentle, concerned.
Shouto gives a tiny, hesitant nod. It’s all the motion he can handle right now, and he just hopes Izuku gets the message.
A hand falls to his back, rubbing gently up and down. Shouto squeezes his eyes closed, swallowing thickly as hot saliva pools in his mouth. He just wants this to end. He needs to get off the boat and on dry land, but he can’t move and he’s stuck here and he doesn’t know how much longer he can fight the horrible nausea.
“If you’re feeling sick, don’t lie on the fucking floor,” Katsuki says. There’s a rustling sound, then something is being shoved against Shouto’s face.
He blinks open his eyes to see a white paper bag.
“Use the sick bag, not the floor,” Katsuki grits.
Shouto doesn’t want to accept the reality of throwing up again, but he’s pretty sure it’s inevitable at this point, so he takes the proffered bag. Shaky fingers grip the material, but he doesn’t move to sit up.
Izuku’s hand is still on his back, rubbing soothing circles.
Shouto stares straight ahead, focussing his gaze on a little smudge of dirt on the floor as he fights the swirling in his stomach.
The nausea refuses to settle though, rising and rising until it engulfs his entire body. Before he can even realise what’s happening, a gag rushes up his throat. He jolts forward, heaving helplessly.
“Fucking—use the bag!” Katsuki reaches forward, snagging the back of Shouto’s hoodie and hauling him upright.
The motion makes Shouto’s head spin out of control and his stomach gives another tumultuous roll. He lurches forward, fingers scrabbling helplessly to try and find the bag he had somehow let go of in all the panic.
But then he feels motion in front of him and Katsuki’s holding the empty sick bag up to his face. The edge brushes against his chin, rough and dry.
He swallows, shuddering all over as his stomach gives another unproductive heave. He keeps his lips tightly sealed, refusing to open his mouth because that would mean giving in and he can’t do that. He thinks maybe if he fights hard enough, swallows and gulps and breathes, he can get this under control.
“Just let your body do what it needs to,” Izuku says gently. He’s still rubbing Shouto’s back, movements calm and gentle. “If you need to throw up, it’s okay.”
Shouto’s stomach seems to take that as an invitation and his control shatters. He feels the nausea rise and rise, stomach churning so fast it feels like it has a life of its own. He leans forward hastily, hands reaching to grip the edge of the sick bag up to his face.
Even though he’s holding it now, Katsuki doesn’t let go. It’s probably a good thing, because Shouto feels suddenly very weak. He isn’t sure if he could hold the bag on his own and he really doesn’t want to get sick on the floor again.
One final heave, and he’s bringing up a rush of vomit into the bag. It burns coming up and he coughs at the end, fighting back another gag as he tries to catch his breath. He wishes he could pull away to wipe his mouth, but already, another heave comes up, sending more vomit rushing up his throat. It comes out his nose this time too and it burns. Sears and tears at the sensitive skin.
He thinks he might be done after that, but he isn’t sure, so he stays hunched over, still holding the bag right up to his face in case he needs to be sick again. His body is trembling all over, shaking uncontrollably from either cold or sickness or some combination of the two.
Izuku’s speaking gently to him, but he can’t quite make out the words. He kind of wants to cry, but he can’t let himself show even more vulnerability. He’s already humiliated himself enough.
“You done?” It’s Katsuki. He’s still holding the sick bag, and his voice is uncharacteristically gentle.
It’s strange, but not unwelcome. Shouto gives a noncommittal little shrug, eyes still squeezed shut.
“Okay, well, you need to breathe some fresh air.”
Before Shouto can protest, Katsuki pulls the used bag away and ties it off.
Giving a tiny groan of protest, Shouto reaches out blindly. He shakes his head, swallowing thickly as he tries to communicate his thoughts to Katsuki. “Don’t feel good,” he mumbles thickly.
“Yeah, no shit. If you feel like you’re gonna hurl again, tell me and I’ll get you another bag,” Katsuki deadpans. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a little bottle of hand sanitizer. After squeezing some onto his own hands, he holds it out to Shouto.
Still feeling incredibly woozy, Shouto holds out a hand, letting Katsuki squeeze some of the liquid out onto it. He sloppily rubs it in, breathing in huge lungfuls of the fresh air, now tinged with the scent of hand sanitizer. It’s then he realises he threw up the meds, and suddenly he’s having a very hard time holding back tears. He turns away, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as he fights the burning at the back of his eyes.
“You’re really not feeling well, huh?” Izuku hums, hand still rubbing against Shouto’s back.
Shouto just nods defeatedly. There’s no point denying the fact anymore. “I threw up my meds.” The words come out strained and desperate. His voice wavers slightly, trembling as shivers run through his body.
“It’s okay, hey, you can take some more,” Izuku reassures him. He seems to sense how close Shouto is to tears, and doesn’t push him to speak, just sits there and gently reassures him. “Kacchan, do you have more?”
The crinkling of plastic fills Shouto’s senses and then another pill is being pressed into his hand.
“Water?” he croaks.
“Yeah, hold on a fucking minute, Icyhot. I’m not just here to deliver shit to you.” There’s more rustling and then a plastic water bottle is being pressed into Shouto’s hand. He takes the pill quickly, unable to hide the grimace as he swallows a gulp of water. He feels a little bad for demanding the water, but the nausea is still churning his stomach and he just feels so utterly and completely bad.
Now that he’s taken the pill, the only thing left to do is wait. He shuffles a little in place, moving so his back is pressed up against the side of the boat. The deck heaves beneath him, pitching and rolling in a constant rhythm that makes him feel like his body’s being torn apart from the inside out. He doesn’t know how much time has passed. Or how much longer they have of the trip. And in all honesty, he isn’t even sure he wantsto know. He’s not sure how he’s going to last another five minutes of the incessant rolling, let alone a few hours.
Tiredly, he pulls his knees up to his chest, letting his head fall onto his crossed arms. He wishes he could sleep. At least then he wouldn’t have to feel the constant dip and sway of the deck. Or at least, he wouldn’t be aware of it.
“Do you want to try lying down again?” Izuku asks quietly.
He must have seen the discomfort in Shouto’s movements, because his voice is heavy with concern. He doesn’t look up, just shifts a little as he gives a noncommittal groan. After another moment of silence, he finally drags up the energy to speak, though it’s low and indistinct, muffled against his knees. “How much longer?”
He doesn’t have to elaborate about what he means. Izuku knows. There’s a slight rustling as he pulls his phone from his pocket, then, “About two more hours.”
Shouto’s heart plummets. How is he supposed to make it through another two hours of this hell? He doesn’t say anything else, just presses his forehead even harder against his raised knees and fights the despair and anxiety rising within him.
“It might help if you try to sleep,” Izuku suggests. His voice is gentle, hesitant almost. He’s probably right.
With nothing better to do, Shouto shifts again, clumsily sliding out his legs so he can lower himself to the heaving deck. When his head reaches the ground, he’s surprised to feel something soft brush against his cheek. Startled, he twists around, confused as to why he isn’t hitting hard ground.
Katsuki’s crouching there, his balled up jacket on the floor next to Shouto’s head. His eyes are narrowed with annoyance, but there’s a hint of something else there. Concern maybe. “Don’t fucking say anything,” he grumbles.
Shouto just blinks. “You gave me your jacket.”
“What did I just say.”
Shouto ignores the comment, moving to lay his head down on the hoodie as he curls up on the floor. “Thanks.” It’s quiet, barely audible over the crash of waves.
“Tch. Whatever.”
Silence falls between the three of them. Shouto lets his eyes fall closed, willing sleep to claim him so he can escape the never ending sway of the boat. Izuku and Katsuki are quiet, but he knows they’re still there. He feels bad making them stay outside in the cold, but he doesn’t have the energy to try and formulate an argument, so he just goes with it.
He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have eventually drifted off, because the next thing he knows, he’s being shaken awake.
“Todoroki, hey.”
He shifts, a hand coming up to clumsily rub over his face. He feels strange, disorientated and off. Slowly, carefully, he moves into a sitting position. His head spins with the movement, but he’s able to get upright without too much issue. Only then does he realise that the floor is mostly still beneath him. It still rocks a little, but it’s nothing like the heaving movements earlier. “Are we there?” he asks, wincing internally when his voice comes out gravelly and rough.
“Yeah,” Izuku says. He lays a hand on Shouto’s shoulder, peering at him through worried green eyes. “We just pulled into the harbour. You feeling okay?”
Shouto pauses, taking a moment to assess his own condition. He doesn’t feel great, nausea still simmering in the pit of his stomach, but it’s significantly less than the raging sickness he’d experienced earlier, so he thinks he’s doing pretty well. “Yes,” he answers.
Izuku nods, though he doesn’t remove his hand from Shouto’s shoulder. “Aizawa said we’re gonna head straight to the hotel we’re staying at, so it’s just a quick bus ride and then you’ll be able to rest in a proper bed.”
The idea of getting on a bus sends a sour pang through Shouto’s stomach, but he grits his teeth and nods. As he moves to stand, he realises Katsuki’s jacket is still on the floor. He stoops to pick it up, bundling it into his arms. He’s not sure where Katsuki disappeared to and for some reason it brings a small pang of sadness to his chest. Which doesn’t make sense, because why should he care if Katsuki’s there? He knows Katsuki hates the cold, so he probably went inside once Shouto fell asleep. It makes sense, and yet somehow, Shouto’s heart feels heavy as he shakily makes his way down the ramp and onto solid ground.
By the time they get all of their luggage loaded into the shuttle bus, Shouto’s exhausted. A dull queasiness lingers deep in his stomach, simmering there as if biding its time for the perfect moment to strike. As he steps on board to find a seat, he wordlessly hands Katsuki’s jacket back to him.
Katsuki looks up, turning away from his conversation with Kirishima when the jacket is thrust into his lap. He stares at Shouto for a moment, opening his mouth to speak, but before he can get a word out, Shouto pushes on, finding a seat a little further down the aisle. He pretends he doesn’t feel Katsuki’s gaze on his back as he walks.
It’s hot on the bus, driving Shouto to drag his hoodie over his head. It helps a little, but he still feels increasingly queasy as the journey continues.
It isn’t a long drive, only about fifteen minutes full trip, but by the time they pull up in front of the hotel, Shouto feels ready to throw up all over again.
Izuku seems to notice his distress, sticking close as they leave the bus.
Shouto keeps his head down, swallowing thickly as sweat breaks out across the back of his neck. His cheeks feel hot and flushed, throat heavy with nausea. The cool rain swept air feels heavenly against his face as he steps out, but they’re already being urged inside by a very tired looking Aizawa, so he can’t linger more than a few moments. Which is okay, because he really just wants to get to his hotel room and lay down in a proper bed.
Large automatic doors open into a small lobby space. Slightly worn couches are strewn about the open space, and there’s a small table to one side with a large jug of water along with a tray of glasses.
“Alright, stay here and don’t cause any trouble while I go check us in,” Aizawa says, giving his students a stern look before dropping his bags and trudging over to the front desk.
Shouto barely hears him. For some reason, it feels like the ground is still moving underneath his feet. It’s unsettling, disturbing almost. He’s off the boat, so why is everything still moving? A swell of nausea rushes over him, buzzing awake as the ground seems to pitch and roll beneath his feet. He needs to sit down. Setting his gaze on the nearby cluster of couches, he takes a shaky step forward. His feet stumble a little as he walks, body not used to the added movement. Movement that shouldn’t even be there because he’s on dry land. He just has to get to the couch. If he can get to the couch, he can lay down and then everything will be fine.
“Oi. What the fuck is up with you now?” The voice is loud, abrasive almost, and Shouto grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to hear from Katsuki right now.
“The floor is moving,” he says simply, not bothering to look at Katsuki as he finally reaches the couches. With a sigh of relief, he sinks down onto the first available surface. He sits right on the edge, bracing his hands against his knees as he sucks in slow, steadying breaths.
“No, it isn’t. The fuck?”
Shouto just shrugs. He doesn’t have the energy to try and explain it to Katsuki. Of course he knows the floor isn’t actually moving, but it sure as hell feels like it. He digs his nails into his knees, tries to take slow breaths. His entire body is suddenly enveloped in an overwhelming heat, even though he’d already removed his hoodie and is sitting there in just a thin t-shirt.
He keeps his gaze down, fixed on the smooth floor. There are little swirls of colour in the stone, and he focuses on them, fighting desperately to control the dizziness washing over him.
Katsuki gives a little huff of annoyance. He’s standing right in front of Shouto, just a few paces away. “You’re feeling sick again, huh.” He phrases it more as a statement rather than an actual question, but Shouto gives a stiff shrug in response anyway.
Katsuki doesn’t say anything after that, just moves to lean against the wall. Shouto can see him scrolling on his phone, brows knit as he stares intently at the screen. He wonders briefly what he’s looking at, but then a more intense wave of nausea rushes up and all of his attention is redirected back to his turbulent stomach. Swallowing slowly, he clenches his jaw and stares fixedly at the floor. But the swirling patterns are now spinning and twisting and it just makes him feel worse, so he clenches his eyes closed. His fingers curl against the fabric of his pants, digging into the skin beneath. He feels hot all over, sweaty and sticky and somehow it still feels like everything around him is moving.
“Todoroki?” the voice is quiet, urgent. “Are you okay?”
It’s Izuku. When did Izuku get there? Shouto gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. He isn’t okay, not at all, but he thinks if he says that out loud the precarious balance of his equilibrium will finally crumble and it will all fall apart.
“Are you sure?” There’s a rustling sound and Shouto feels the seat dip beside him.
Again, he doesn’t answer.
“He’s still nauseous from the fucking boat,” Katsuki cuts in. He sounds annoyed, frustrated. Probably because of Shouto.
“Kacchan, please lower your voice. We don’t need everyone crowding around.”
Katsuki seemed to agree with that, because the next time he spoke, his voice was quieter. “He’s not gonna answer when he’s like this. Fucker has no common sense. Go to the bathroom if you’re feeling sick.” There’s a bite to his voice, but it’s more than just frustration. He sounds stressed, unsettled. Is Katsuki anxious?
But Shouto doesn’t have time to dwell on the matter, because Izuku’s speaking to him again. “Hey, are you still feeling sick?”
Another tiny nod. There’s no point in denying it anymore.
“Like you’re gonna throw up?”
This time Shouto pauses. He isn’t sure. He thinks there’s a good chance he might throw up, but if he says that, Izuku will make him move and he absolutely cannot get up right now. So he shakes his head, then shrugs. “Dizzy,” he mumbles under his breath. It’s a struggle to get even that single word through his numb lips, but he manages, following it up with a few thick swallows.
“You’re dizzy?” Izuku reaches out, laying a gentle hand on Shouto’s shoulder. The touch is warm and comforting, and he feels a tiny sense of gratitude. “Do you want to try lying down for a bit?”
Yes, Shouto does. He doesn’t even care that he’s in the middle of the hotel lobby where everyone can see him. At this point, he just wants to be horizontal and lie as still as physically possible until the world stops spinning around him. So he nods, squinting his eyes open just enough so he can see where he’s going. He slides over on the couch, pulling his legs up and curling them so he can fit on the small surface. The motion sends his head spinning out of control, and for a moment, all he feels is whirling hazy blurs. The nausea rages again, swooping over him in huge waves that threaten to engulf him. Squeezing his eyes shut even tighter, he grits his teeth and tries to breathe. Tries to focus on each individual breath. He won’t throw up. He can’t throw up.
“Just try and rest a bit.” Izuku’s voice sounds hazy above him and he can only just make it out.
Responding is beyond him at that point, but he doesn’t really care. He just needs to stay perfectly still and then everything will be okay. It has to be okay.
“Do you think maybe we should get Aizawa?” That’s Izuku again, speaking quietly to Katsuki, or at least that’s what Shouto assumes.
“It’s just motion sickness. We should get our room assignments soon and then Halfie can laze around all he wants.”
Room assignments. Right. Lying down in a proper bed would be so much better than being stuck on this couch in the middle of the lobby.
“Yeah, but still…” Izuku trails off, clearly thinking.
If Shouto’s eyes were open, he thinks he would see Izuku silently muttering.
In the end, Izuku doesn’t have to go find Aizawa, because he chooses that moment to call out to all of the students. “There’s a delay in the cleaning services, so the rooms aren’t ready for us. It’s going to be at least another half hour, so we’re going to have to wait here for a while longer. Please don’t cause any chaos.”
Shouto feels despair well inside him. He doesn’t want to be stuck out here for another half an hour. He wants to be in his room, shielded away from the prying eyes of his classmates. Can he really last another half hour without throwing up? He isn’t sure. His stomach is sloshing unpleasantly and his throat is tight and the heat still seems to be pressing in around him.
Time passes, each minute ticking by agonisingly slow. It feels like hours, but Shouto thinks it’s probably only been a few minutes when footsteps steadily approach the bench. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he recognises the voice immediately.
“What’s going on now, problem children?”
“Aizawa sensei!” Izuku says, sounding a little breathless. “Um, Todoroki isn’t feeling well. He said he was dizzy, so I helped him lie down, but he really isn’t doing well. Is it really going to take that long for the rooms?”
Aizawa lets out a heavy sigh, bringing a hand up to run through his long, dishevelled hair. “Unfortunately.” He glances over at Shouto’s curled form on the couch. “You nauseous, kid?”
Shouto swallows. Still unwilling to open his mouth, he forces himself to give a hesitant nod. He hates admitting he isn’t feeling well, but there isn’t really any way to deny it at this point.
“He was sick on the boat,” Katsuki breaks in, and if Shouto was feeling better, he would have glared at the blond. Aizawa doesn’t need to know about that.
Their teacher gives another tired sigh. “And of course, no one felt it necessary to inform me of this.” He rubs tiredly between his eyes, massaging his furrowed brow. “Alright, you two stay with him. I’ll be right back.”
Shouto doesn’t know where he’s going, but the movement of trying to respond to Aizawa ramped up the nausea and he’s now feeling significantly worse. His head spins, whirling and dipping even with his eyes firmly closed. He feels hot and clammy, skin drenched in sweat. His throat tingles, and it’s almost as if he can feel a gag hovering at the back of his throat, just waiting for something to push him over the edge.
Footsteps fade back into his awareness, and he squints his eyes open enough to see Aizawa standing in front of him again. He’s holding out a blue plastic bucket, the kind kids use to play with at the beach.
“Hey kid. I’m gonna put this right here, okay?” He sets the bucket right next to the edge of the couch.
Shouto pretends it isn’t there. If he looks at the bucket for too long, he knows he’s going to throw up, and he can’t let that happen. He shifts a little on the couch, moving ever so slightly so he can press his cheek against a cooler section of the leather couch. His chest is swarming with nausea now, the world narrowing in around him.
Other voices filter in through the hazy fog, some unfamiliar, but he doesn’t care anymore. He just feels so unbelievably sick and he wants it to go away because he can’t stand feeling like this anymore.
“Todoroki?”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t react at all because he can’t. Don’t they understand that he can’t speak right now? Why won’t they just leave him alone. He just needs a minute. Just long enough that he can get his stomach under control.
“Can you try sitting up? It’s okay if you need to be sick. We’ve got a bucket right here.”
No. Shouto can’t sit up. He wants to tell Izuku that, but that would involve opening his mouth and he can’t do that. Heat rages through his body, rising and rising along with the never ending nausea. Something shifts then, some sense within him. His mouth is suddenly full of saliva, and it’s coming so fast he can’t swallow it all down anymore. He groans, mouth falling open beyond his control. Slimy drool spills from his lips to pool on the couch and he knows he should move. He can’t get sick here. But he just feels so horrible and the room is spinning and then his stomach is lurching and he’s jolting forward on the couch. His body shudders with the force of the gag. Nothing comes up other than another mouthful of drool. He lets it spill onto the couch, mouth open because he just feels so awful and his body has taken things into its own hands. He doesn’t have control anymore.
“Fucking—Deku grab the bucket.”
Rough hands grab his back, yanking him upright on the couch. He sways, bringing a hand up to try and steady himself. Everything is spinning. His body feels limp and heavy, like he can’t quite control his limbs anymore. And then he’s being nudged forward.
A bucket appears in front of his face. The same blue one Aizawa had brought. He leans over it, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the edge. He’s panting now, deep, heavy breaths that seem to shake him to the very core. Or maybe he’s already shaking. He gags, feels his stomach give another violent lurch.
“Shh, it’s okay. Breathe,” Aizawa says calmly, and Shouto feels a hand brush at his sweaty hair.
He coughs harshly, jolting forward as his stomach convulses with another heave. This time, he actually gets sick. It rushes up his throat, hitting the bucket with a dull, hollow sound that makes his stomach churn even more.
The voices around him are louder now, rising with concern and disgust and a million other things Shouto doesn’t know or care about.
He pants over the bucket, spitting out thick ropes of drool and trying to get his breathing under control. He’s shaking now, shivering violently all over. And it’s all too much. Everything going on around him and the nausea still churning in his stomach.
“You think you’re done?” Aizawa asks gently.
Shouto shakes his head. In truth, he doesn’t really know, but he doesn’t want him to take away the bucket. He slumps over, arms falling uselessly at his sides. He isn’t even holding the bucket, so if Aizawa lets go, it will fall and spill everywhere. He should probably be the one holding it. This is gross and Aizawa shouldn’t have to deal with it. But he doesn’t move. Can’t move.
He just sits there, occasionally gagging weakly over the bucket and trying to get his heart to stop racing so fast.
Suddenly something cool presses against his face. It’s a napkin, he realises somewhat belatedly. Soaked through with cool water.
“You’ll feel better if you wipe your face.” It’s Izuku, voice tight with worry.
Shouto nods and takes the offered paper towels, wiping them sloppily over his face to clean away the vomit and drool. His hands shake so badly, it takes him a few tries, but he manages it. When he’s done, he dumps the used tissues into the bucket, careful not to look at the contents.
“Damn, when you kids get sick, you really go all out,” Aizawa mumbles. “It alright if I take this?” He nudges the bucket and Shouto just nods slowly.
He’s shaking all over now, trembling so hard his teeth chatter together. “Sorry,” he says, voice so quiet it’s barely audible.
“You’re alright. Not the first time one of you has puked on a class trip.” Aizawa sounds tired, but doesn’t seem to be bothered or put out by having to hold the sick bucket up to Shouto’s face or brush back his sweaty hair.
Shouto feels shame well up inside him. Now that the nausea is fading slightly, the full horror of the situation begins to hit him. He just threw up in front of everyone. In the middle of the hotel lobby. And he still doesn’t feel well and worst of all he’s stuck there because the stupid hotel rooms aren’t ready yet. He brings a shaky hand up to wipe at his face, brushing stray hair behind his ear. His throat is suddenly very tight. He swallows, gulps around the huge lump that’s somehow lodged itself in his throat. His eyes burn, clouding over as he feels a deep ache grow in the back of his throat. A shudder runs through him, despair welling up because he just wants to stop feeling so bad. He wants to be in his room, away from people. Wants to lay down and sleep.
He swallows again, feels his eyes pool with moisture. He tries to fight it, tries to hold back the tears because he doesn’t want to cry in front of everyone, but it’s no use.
“Shit, fucking—” Katsuki’s voice is harsh, panicked almost. He hesitates for a moment, then lays a tentative hand on Shouto’s shoulder. “You’re… fuck. It’s okay.” His movements are awkward and stiff, like he has no idea what he’s doing, but Shouto doesn’t mind.
He prefers it to being coddled and pressured by strangers. At least the hotel staff aren’t crowding in around him anymore. They must have left. Maybe Katsuki’s behind that too.
“I’m fine,” he says, voice wet and shaky. “I’m just—really overwhelmed right now. I need…need a minute.” He sucks in a breath, blinking hard to try and get the tears under control. And it works, sort of. He manages to rein in his emotions so only a few more tears fall, but his chest doesn’t stop aching and his throat still burns and he doesn’t want to be in this stupid lobby anymore.
“They said it will be another twenty minutes at least until the rooms are done,” Izuku cuts in suddenly, and only then does Shouto realise he’d been gone.
He kind of wants to cry more when he processes the statement though. He can almost feel the eyes of everyone in the lobby trained on him. All his classmates. All the staff and other guests.
“’m gonna lay down,” he says in way of a response, ignoring the worried voices around him and moving to slide back down to the couch.
“Okay, okay yeah. Good idea.” Izuku still sounds worried. He lays a hand on Shouto’s shoulder, sliding it slowly up and down. “Aizawa went to see if they can get one of the rooms ready faster so you can go lie down in an actual bed.”
“Fucking shitty ass hotel if you ask me,” Katsuki grumbles. “They knew we were coming. Why the fuck is it taking them over half an hour to get the rooms clean. One of their guests is currently puking his guts up in the lobby, what does that say for business?”
“Kacchan…”
“What, Deku?”
“Okay, I know, but there isn’t anything else we can do.” He pauses, glancing over at Shouto’s curled form on the couch. “Do you think this is still motion sickness?”
“Yeah, seasickness usually lasts a while after getting off the boat. Halfie was going on about the floor moving and shit, so he’s clearly still feeling it.”
“I guess you’re right.”
There’s another shuffling noise then, and Shouto feels something drape over his trembling body. He hadn’t quite realised how much he was still shaking. Is he cold? He’d been so hot before.
Blinking open hazy eyes, he looks around blearily to see Katsuki hovering over him. The blond’s jacket is now draped over Shouto’s shoulders. He blinks, wondering for a moment if this is some kind of humiliation induced fever dream. “You gave me your jacket again,” he says, stunned.
Katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You were shaking like a leaf. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Shouto feels a strange sense of warmth fill his insides. He shifts a little, feeling the fabric of Katsuki’s jacket brush against his bare arms. “Thank you.”
“Fucking whatever.”
Beside them, Izuku is smiling, his green eyes alight with amusement. “You have such a soft spot for him, Kacchan. You can’t even pretend.”
“I do fucking not.” The protest is so loud that several heads turn, trying to discover what the commotion is about.
“If you say so,” Izuku says casually, but there’s an unmistakable smugness to his voice.
Shouto doesn’t have it in himself to add to the conversation and he’s still feeling miserable, so he just curls up, pressing his tear stained cheek against the couch and staring blankly at the hotel lobby. He still feels nauseous and dizzy, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t going to throw up again. The bucket is still there though, sitting innocently next to the couch. When he looks at it, he notices it’s now empty. Someone must have cleaned it out. The thought sends guilt crawling through his stomach, mixing with the feeling of humiliation already settling there.
With nothing else to do, Shouto lets his eyes fall closed, listening to the sound of Izuku and Katsuki talking quietly next to him. He drifts then, sliding in and out of conscious awareness as he hovers on the edge of sleep. Time seems to blur, and he finds himself grateful for the fact. At least this way the passage of time doesn’t feel quite so agonising. He still doesn’t feel well, but he’s able to dissociate slightly from the sensation, enough that he can lay there without too much discomfort.
When a hand finally moves to brush his shoulder, it startles him a little, yanking him out of his haze. Still feeling half asleep, he lifts his head, lips forming a question that doesn’t actually have any sound. When he opens his eyes, he sees Aizawa kneeling on the floor next to the couch. His eyes are soft with concern, touch gentle.
“How are you feeling?”
Shouto shrugs. He doesn’t have the energy to try and deny how bad he feels anymore. He just wants to sleep. And he had been, at least partially. So why did Aizawa have to go and wake him up?
As if reading Shouto’s mind, Aizawa goes on to explain. “They’ve got one of the rooms ready, so if you’re feeling up to it, we can move there.”
A room. A room is good. He nods slowly, rubbing a hand over his face to try and get his vision to come back into focus. “Okay,” he says, and winces when his voice comes out hoarse and embarrassingly feeble. He swallows, clearing his throat.
“You are set to room with Midoriya and Bakugou, both of whom have assured me you will all be fine on your own. That being said—” He pauses, turning to look at each student in turn. “If things change and Todoroki’s condition worsens, I’m trusting you to contact me. Understood?”
Katsuki rolls his eyes like he can’t believe Aizawa is making them promise such a thing, but Izuku nods earnestly.
“Of course, sensei!”
Aizawa sighs but nods before turning back to Shouto. “Does this work for you?”
“Yes.”
“Very well. I will leave you three to it. You have my number.” With that, Aizawa straightens up, moving swiftly to intervene with an argument that had broken out between Sero and Kaminari.
“You ready to head up?” Izuku asks, voice soft.
Shouto nods. He shifts to the edge of the couch, swinging his legs over the edge and getting to his feet. Immediately, he sways, vision swimming as the ground seems to dip and roll beneath his feet. He throws out a hand, stepping backwards hastily, but a firm grip tightens around his waist, stabilising him and keeping him from falling.
“Tch. Fucking idiot. Why’d you just stand up like that? Gotta give yourself a chance to get used to the new position.”
Shouto doesn’t have to look to know who grabbed him. “I’m fine,” he mutters, embarrassed and frustrated with Katsuki because he doesn’t feel well and he doesn’t want to deal with his snark right now.
“Yeah, sure you are.”
“Kacchan…” Izuku warns.
“Literal dumbass,” Katsuki grumbles under his breath, but he steps aside, giving Shouto some space. He moves to snag the plastic bucket from the floor, holding it out to Shouto. He keeps it as far away from his body as possible, even though it had clearly been cleaned since the first use. “Take this. Don’t want you puking in the elevator.”
Shouto’s cheeks flush at the words, but he takes the bucket anyway. As much as he hates to admit it, his stomach is still churning, and there’s a solid chance he will get sick from the motion of the elevator.
With shaky steps, he’s able to make it all the way across the lobby and to the elevators along the far wall. His backpack is slung over his shoulders while he clutches the bucket between tense fingers. It’s embarrassing, walking past everyone when he knows they’d seen him get sick. It’s even more painfully obvious with the stupid bucket, even as he lets it fall to his side so it isn’t as noticeable.
The elevator dings, and Shouto’s relieved to find it empty. They step inside and he takes a slow breath, leaning against the wall as Izuku presses the number for their floor.
Katsuki’s right, the movement makes Shouto’s head spin and whirl, bringing back the sensation of being on the boat. He swallows, closing his eyes and dragging in slow breaths, pretending that he’s fine because he doesn’t want anyone to know that a simple elevator ride could cause him such distress.
He’s relieved when they reach their floor, though his feet stumble again as he steps out of the elevator. He stands there, trembling as waves of dizziness slam over him. For one horrible moment, he thinks he might be sick again right there, but the sensation passes, leaving him cold and shivery and weak.
“You gonna hurl?” Katsuki asks.
Shouto shakes his head, expression stubbornly set. “I’m fine,” he repeats.
They all know he isn’t actually fine, but no one presses it.
When they reach the hotel room, Shouto shuffles across the room, moving to sit awkwardly on the edge of the bed while Izuku flicks on the lights and comments on how nice the room is.
Shouto doesn’t have the capacity to try and determine whether the room is nice or not, but he trusts Izuku’s judgment.
“Oi, you just gonna sit there or are you actually gonna use the bed?”
Shouto doesn’t look up. His stomach turns over, soured by the exertion of walking and the movement of the elevator. He wants to lie down, but with the nausea suddenly rising again, he doesn’t think that’s such a good idea. “In a minute,” he says, quiet, strained.
Katsuki takes a step closer. “Why in a minute?”
Shouto takes a slow, shaky breath. He’s starting to feel hot again, body drenched in waves of boiling nausea. The sensation exhausts him, bringing with it a sense of raw despair because he doesn’t want to go through this again. “I don’t feel—” he breaks off, throat convulsing with a weak gag. Sluggishly, he reaches for the bucket, snagging it between trembling fingers and bringing it into his lap. He rests his hands against the sides of the bucket, leaning over and staring into the blue plastic depths. His breath seems to echo against the hollow inside, sounding weird and compressed.
“Again, really?” Katsuki scoffs, but his voice doesn’t sound angry. He moves over, resting a hand on Shouto’s shoulder. “Shit, that boat really messed you up.”
Shouto just nods. He stares blankly into the bucket, swallowing and swallowing as he tries to get control of his stomach.
“Aw, Todoroki…” Izuku’s there now too, lowering himself onto the side of the bed next to Shouto. “Just let your body do what it needs to, okay? Don’t try and fight it.”
Shouto finds he’s too tired to keep fighting anyway. A sharp gag rips up his throat, leaving him panting harshly over the bucket. The heat rises, fierce and thick. It’s building and building, nausea mounting into another shuddering heave. Nothing comes up as he struggles and gags, and that just makes the experience all that much more painful.
“Shhh, shhh. You’re okay,” Izuku soothes. He sounds close to tears, and Shouto feels a pang of guilt rush through him.
Finally, gradually, the nausea tapers off, leaving Shouto exhausted and trembling, but relieved to finally be free of its relentless grasp. He pants out heavy breaths, gasping to try and get air in. Drool coats his lips and he wipes shakily at them, not caring that it gets on his sleeve.
“Fucking gross,” Katsuki scoffs, but he holds out a handful of tissues to Shouto.
Once his face is clean and he’s swallowed a gulp of water from the bottle Izuku brought, Shouto feels a little less terrible. He’s still distinctly queasy, but mostly he just feels exhausted.
“You good?” Katsuki asks, watching Shouto sway slightly on the bed.
“’m gonna sleep,” he slurs, already turning to lower himself carefully onto the covers. Burying his face in the sheets, he lets out a heavy sigh.
“You didn’t even take your fucking shoes off,” Katsuki growls.
Shouto doesn’t care. He’s exhausted and sick and now that he’s comfortable on the bed, there’s no way he’s moving. After a moment, he feels a tug against his feet, and realises belatedly that Katsuki’s taking off his shoes for him.
“Dumbass,” he grumbles under his breath.
Something soft brushes against his bare arms, and he blinks to find a blanket draped over him. Izuku’s watching him through wide, worried green eyes. “Wake us if you need anything, okay?” he says.
“Kay,” Shouto mumbles. He can already feel himself drifting off, the tug of sleep too heavy for him to resist. The sheets feel cool and soothing against his cheek, soft to the touch and comforting in a strange way. He doesn’t even have it in himself to feel embarrassed over the situation. All he can feel is an overwhelming sense of relief that he’s finally on dry land and the ground isn’t moving underneath him.
He drifts off to the quiet sound of Izuku and Katsuki talking, comforted by the familiar sounds even though he can’t make out the words. When he does finally drift off this time, he stays asleep, body relaxing as he finally finds peace after the horrible events of the day.