Work Text:
Todoroki Shouto excelled at keeping secrets. It came with the name, he supposed–the Todoroki family had many, many secrets, after all. That of course meant that Shouto had plenty of his own. It was in his nature to hide things, so of course he had, and he also had really never had the slightest intention of revealing even one of these secrets.
Until Sero Hanta came along.
He’d known the boy for nearly a year now. Thus far, Sero had pried several secrets out of Todoroki.
His first secret; Todoroki liked reading manga. His favorite genre was anything slice of life or generally feel-good, but he would try anything. He was embarrassed about this hobby, and he honestly considered it a guilty pleasure; Manga was never something he had been allowed to read, growing up. Natsuo used to sneak some into his room on occasion, but that was a very rare occurrence. One Saturday night, Sero had gotten back to the dorms later than usual, exhausted from training, and opened the wrong door. Of course, seeing as Todoroki and Sero’s dorm rooms were directly next to each other, that wrong door had belonged to him. Todoroki could have cried (if he hadn’t pretty much forgotten how), because Sero had completely just walked in on him reading a very cheesy manga. Of course, Sero immediately told him he had good taste, then apologized for walking in on him and left before Todoroki could speak.
He wasn’t sure what he would have said if he had the chance, anyway. They started exchanging copies and reading together twice a week after that.
This first mistake was a harbinger, because it had to be. These things had rules. Spending more time with Sero would always lead to more secrets being uncovered. Todoroki had no idea how the guy managed to get so goddamn good at it, but he would settle for being grateful that Sero never once mentioned a single secret to anyone else (as far as he could tell.)
So the second secret slipped out while they discussed manga.
Sero was chatting about one they had read together–yes, together, the same volume, shoulders touching the whole time–while Todoroki recovered from it. Touching for that long made him nervous. Touching made him nervous, actually. The main character in the manga was similar, he recalled. Right, and Sero was trying to talk to him about that… He should focus.
“I don’t know, but I have a feeling, I guess- I bet you in the next volume he opens up to her about some sort of abuse. That’s probably why he’s so shy-”
“Abuse?” he asked aloud, fully aware by now that (similarly to Midoriya) Sero would talk until he was interrupted, and also did not mind that interrupting one bit.
“Oh,” they paused, smiling at him. “Well- yeah! That sort of thing can make you scared to touch people, or get close to them at all! Like Eri!”
“Like Eri,” he echoed.
Was he scared? Nervous. He preferred nervous. What kind of hero was scared to touch his friends? What kind of hero was scared to touch? He could do it just fine in fights. He just didn’t want to mess up when he was so new at the whole friend thing. That was it.
“Roki?”
Sero’s concerned expression came back into focus. He blinked and quickly apologized.
“I zoned out, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s cool, man! I’m not upset, just a little worried.” Worried? He was worrying Sero now? This was getting bad. Why was Sero smiling at him so nervously? “Uh, I’m sorry if I’m, like, reading too far into it, but- is that something you relate to?”
Well, at least Sero being nervous made sense now.
Another secret slipped out then. Broken up into puzzle pieces that he couldn't fit together, he told Sero how he was raised. How his father trained him. He didn’t dare use the word “abuse,” it felt foreign and far too strong anyways. Sero listened the entire time.
When Sero held his hand and told him they never wanted to push him, that he just wanted Todoroki to be comfortable around him, it felt like his puzzle pieces were being taped together. It started to feel okay that he didn’t fit together, because now he was being held together, and the picture was finally coming into view.
After that, his guard was thoroughly lowered. Sero learned about the source of his scar, his mother’s hospitalization, even his dead eldest brother. Opening up became easier each time, and it was addictive because Sero was so deeply supportive. Nothing he said ever made the boy stop hanging over his shoulders in class, a grin and a laugh on his lips as he told “Roki” about what Kaminari had said during their joint training session that morning.
Todoroki’s perception of him changed from nothing at all to far too bright in a few weeks. From there it changed from bright to warm, from warm to comforting, and finally he realized that Sero felt like home.
Home was difficult for Todoroki. He visited the bare minimum; One day per month, he went home to keep his father from kicking down UA’s doors to find him.
It took one visit for Sero to figure out which day it was after they found out what Todoroki’s home life was like. The first Sunday of each month. Upon his return the next month, Sero was waiting with tons of snacks, a movie, and a flat paper doll made to look like him. Strawberry-patterned washi tape colored the red half of his hair, and a single piece of taped down blue glitter colored his left eye.
He put the doll inside his pillowcase.
Every month after that, Sero gave him candy, papercrafts, and company on those first Sundays.
After all of those secrets, Todoroki found himself stumbling into one of Sero’s secrets, courtesy of Kaminari of all people.
The electric-quirk wielder had been relentless during their second work-study period. He constantly teased Sero, to the point that Todoroki eventually cornered them in the dorms.
He really didn’t want to get involved, but he didn’t like how uncomfortable Sero looked.
“Kaminari,” he started calmly, “Why are you making fun of Sero?”
The two of them stared at him. Somehow, Sero looked even more uncomfortable, and his resolve began to crumble. That discomfort was his fault. He had to fix this fast.
“Uhh,” Kaminari started, looking sheepish. “Sorry man, I didn’t mean to be that bad with it-”
“I want to know why.”
Sero’s face was so red now that he was starting to worry.
“I’m just teasing him about a crush!” Kaminari said hurriedly.
A crush? Sero had feelings for someone?
Sero interjected before Kaminari could dig his grave deeper. “It’s not a crush! It’s not! I only said that the Lurkers were a sandwich I wanted to be the meat in, as a joke! It’s not like I want to date them!”
Todoroki’s head tilted a few degrees to the right. Sandwich meat?
“He thinks they’re hot,” Kaminari snickered. “Which is super funny because he’s always stumbling around during patrols when they compliment him-”
“Kaminari!”
Todoroki didn’t get much else out of Kaminari, but he did chat with Sero over lunch. Apparently they just found the pro heroes running the agency they were doing his work-study at with Kaminari (The Lurkers) to be… particularly attractive up close.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” Sero said sheepishly, “I don’t want to ruin my work study.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” he answered readily. And he wouldn’t, of course. He had no reason to. The only issue was that he was… well, confused. “Can I ask you a question, though?”
“Oh, uh- sure?”
“Are you gay? I thought because you find Kamui Woods attractive you would be, but you also mentioned Mt. Lady…?”
Sero stared at him, eyes opening and closing three times as he gathered his thoughts. Todoroki was, sadly, used to the incredulous stares his questions usually earned him.
“Bisexual,” they said finally. “I like guys and girls, Roki.”
“Oh,” he said, feeling quite foolish. He hadn’t realized that was even an option. Of course it would be an option, people and feelings weren’t binary things. Sero had explained that already, when he had casually let him know that Shoji preferred they/them pronouns (also that Sero himself used he/they) and Todoroki had been utterly lost.
“Thank you for explaining,” he added, and Sero shot him a grin before returning to their usual chatter as if nothing at all had happened. He was very grateful for his friend’s ability to do that.
Sero had become a good friend. They were, at the very least, close–which was exactly the problem. Todoroki still absolutely had things he wanted to hide from him.
Namely the fact that his quirk had a side effect. A drawback that Touya had also developed, if his family was to be believed. This side effect was something he kept closely under wraps, hidden in a box in his closet that he always kept thoroughly locked. The box contained a mini fridge, specially designed for his peculiar diet.
It was obviously stocked full of blood bags.
The bags themselves were discreet – made to look like orange juice pouches, not a single part of them transparent, and nearly impossible to spill. They were made this way in case he needed to drink in public, though he was highly reluctant to even open the box during the day. So the issue never came up.
Of course, that was only true for so long. The hunger he had was so intense that he had a migraine from it. The moment classes ended, he stumbled to his room and pulled the door shut behind himself. The sun was still up but he was starved; waiting would surely put his classmates in danger and he could not have that, not ever. He opened his closet, unlocked the box, and pulled out a pouch.
Then his door opened and he bit through the straw, splattering blood over his face. Wryly, he supposed they were only spill-proof if they were still intact.
“Oh- shit, Roki, I’m sorry! Are you okay? Let me help you,” Sero hurried, taking two steps.
Two steps were all he got before Todoroki took a step back. A step away from him. He felt like a cornered animal.
“Uh,” Sero paused, not moving any closer. “Sorry for scaring you.”
“Please close the door.” He needed the door shut, really really needed that door shut, but he forgot he also needed Sero to be on the other side when it was.
The door clicked shut and they were still staring at each other.
“Sorry I made you spill your drink, you just looked kinda sick when you rushed out and, I guess I got worried.”
Todoroki swallowed, looking down at himself. Blood. Juice. The smell was too strong, Sero would figure him out if they got any closer.
But it was Sero.
Maybe he was allowed to get closer?
“Roki? Hey, are you okay..?”
“Fine,” he said, grabbing a shirt from his laundry hamper, wiping off as much of the blood as he could. He could burn it and have it replaced later. No evidence. “It’s only a migraine.”
“Oh, is that why your lights are off?”
Todoroki hadn’t even realized that they were. He must have forgotten to turn them on when he came in, so-
Wait. That meant Sero couldn’t see him that well. He wouldn’t know it was blood as long as he left before he could smell it.
“Yes,” he said after a long pause, looking at Sero with as steady a gaze as he could possibly manage. The scent of his “drink” was a very painfully distracting one. “That’s why. Thank you for checking on me.”
Sero smiled wide and nodded. “Yeah, of course! Just text me if you need anything, I’m happy to help. I’ll let you rest.”
Todoroki didn’t rest–not until he had locked the door behind Sero, retreated into his bathroom, and locked that door, too.
He was about 98% sure Sero hadn’t caught him.
It was a close call, though, and Todorokis didn’t have close calls.
A close call meant possibly losing everything. A close call meant being shunned, a close call meant never being allowed to be a hero, much less being able to achieve number one. So, without it having to be said, Todoroki Shouto did not have close calls. He was very much above that, better than that. Which explained why he was currently engaged in his second close call.
Wait.
That couldn’t be right. One was too much already. A second one? He was practically asking to be disowned. What had he even done this time?
All he knew was that Sero was staring at him, and he wanted to crawl into a hole and die there.
His mind was overclocked. He needed to start from the beginning if he wanted any chance of getting out of this. What had he done, what was he doing?
It was Sunday, they had class tomorrow. He was taking a walk outside around sunset, curfew was in an hour and he just needed to clear his head. On his way back to the dorms, he’d run into Sero, who was wrapping a piece of tape around his knee. He had to remember what they’d talked about.
Where did it start… right, very simply. He didn’t feel a need for complicated or over the top greetings. “Hi, Sero.”
“Huh? Oh, hey Roki!” he answered, looking up from where he was kneeling, grin wide and easy.
Todoroki simply titled his head in return. “What are you doing?”
“Oh,” they chuckled, sheepish. “I tripped and scraped my knee, sooo… Tape band-aid! Tada!~”
“Ah,” Cute. Sero stood and brushed himself off, while Todoroki reexamined his knee. It was bleeding, crimson smeared flat under clear tape. “Doesn’t that hurt to remove?”
“Mehhh,” he shrugged exaggeratedly. “Sorta?”
His eyes never left the injury. Could he actually smell the blood or was he just imagining it? He was probably hungry, he should get inside. “You should use a bandage,” he said dumbly, and Sero just laughed.
“I will! I will. Hey, you’re heading back, right? I’ll come with you and get a bandage, how’s that sound?”
“Sure,” he agreed, and the two of them started walking.
…They'd just been walking.
How the hell had he ended up pinning Sero to the wall in the dorm building lobby?
“Um- R-Roki?”
Sero was looking at him with wide eyes, their face so red that Todoroki was convinced he could smell the blood under their cheeks. This was really bad. He was pulling away when Sero’s voice stopped him, a shaken whisper leaving their lips. “Mierda… Shouto? Are, are your eyes red?”
Oh, fuck.
Sero must’ve seen the panic in his definitely red eyes because he quickly backtracked. “Oh, oh I mean- it’s probably just the light, are you okay? Do you need me to carry you?” (Stupid, sweet Sero- how could the light ever make his blue eye red? It was the flimsiest excuse he’d ever heard.)
His own name on Sero’s lips was ringing in his ears. The scent of blood, the idea of it had brought him here, and now he was reeling back, hunger forgotten as he stumbled away from Sero–no, Hanta?–and into the elevator. He jammed his thumb into the 5 button, then immediately into the door-close button. Hanta stared at him, making no attempt to follow.
He was probably disgusted. Or afraid. Afraid made sense, he was probably so off-put by what he’d seen, by what Shouto had done…
He couldn’t force Hanta to be near him, no matter how badly he himself wanted to be near them. He couldn’t even relax slightly until he heard Hanta’s door open and close next door. So early the next morning, he snuck out and went directly to Recovery Girl’s office, claiming he felt ill. Since he hadn’t slept or been able to stomach the idea of eating, he certainly looked the part; she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a bed to sleep in.
Monday night he went to Aizawa-sensei and asked him for a mental health day. There was some suspicion, but the emotional exhaustion must have been enough to show on his face for once, because his professor had simply sighed and agreed.
He’d hoped to avoid Hanta until Wednesday.
Hanta had a notably different opinion.
He was still curled up in bed moping when Sero returned from class on Tuesday and knocked on his door.
“Shou? Uh, Shouto, can I come in?”
His tongue tasted like iron. He was too hungry.
“I’m- gonna open the door,” Hanta cautioned, and still he couldn’t find any words. The door was locked, anyway, so he didn’t need to worry.
Hanta’s hand rested on his shoulder.
He flinched and curled into himself further. Oh, god save him, he was going to ruin his life in this accursed room if Hanta didn’t leave. “Please go away,” he croaked out, but Hanta sat down beside him instead. He felt like the world was ending, he could barely take a full breath.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong..?” they asked, and when they received no reply, “Did I upset you?”
“No.”
“Are you hurt?”
“...No.”
“Then…” Hanta sighed. “Can you tell me anything?”
“Hungry,” Shouto replied, because he was, and all he could think about was sinking his fangs into golden, sun-tanned skin.
“Why don’t you come eat? Or maybe I can bring you something?” Shouto could see his smile without even looking, the sight burned into the backs of his eyelids.
His arm crossed in front of Shouto’s face to brush his hair aside, and in an instant, his tempered resolve snapped. Before he knew it, Hanta’s arm was between his jaws, fangs sinking into his skin. Hanta yelped, looking at him in shock.
“Sh- Shouto?!”
He’d never been more disgusted with himself. The taste of their blood made him gag and let go, revulsion running deep to his core–not for the taste, but for himself. How sick was he to think that Hanta tasted sweet? He had no right to be tasting them at all.
He waited for him to leave, to yell at him, to do something, but Hanta only pulled his arm back and inspected the twin punctures in his skin. The yelling never came, there was no slamming of his door. The silence dragged on so long that he dared to sit up, still facing away from Hanta. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, voice failing him.
“Are you-” Hanta paused, disbelief clear in his tone. “Y’know… a vampire?”
Shouto hung his head in defeat, drawing his shoulders close. The panic gripping him let go, only to be replaced with resignation. “Please-”
He was interrupted by arms wrapping around him in a tight hug. “No, no- I won’t tell anyone, it’s okay, Shouto,” he assured him, gentle yet insistent. “This doesn’t change anything, I promise–I still love you, okay?”
He lifted his head immediately, reeling from shock. Hanta loved him? He looked over his shoulder to find Hanta looking just as shocked back at him, surprised by their own words.
“...I’m-” he started, but was spoken over again. “Don’t,” Hanta warned. “Don’t call yourself a monster, or anything like that- you’re not. You’re amazing.”
“You aren’t disgusted?” he whispered in return, turning to face him fully. Hanta let their hands rest on his hips, giving him the space to do so. He wondered why Hanta's hands weren't making him nervous anymore.
“Of course not.” Something in their face made Shouto want to believe them. “You’re perfect.”
“I just bit you,” he frowned, not quite believing him anymore.
“I don’t mind.”
His sunshine-smile was back, making Shouto want to squint, but he held back. “You can’t mean that,” he muttered, flinching when Hanta’s response was to hold his cheeks tenderly in both hands.
“I come with band-aids built in,” he grinned, and Shouto almost smiled and nearly cried.
“You probably shouldn’t use tape for a bandage,” he said softly, looking to the twin lines of blood trailing along Hanta’s forearm. “I can’t bite you, the marks could scar.”
“Excuse you, I very much like the scars you gave me,” they replied proudly. Shouto gave him a confused stare, and their smile turned sheepish. “Sports festival,” he said, pulling his hands back to lift his shirt, revealing some patches of discoloration along his sides and chest. Frostbite scars, ones that would fade and were fading–but they were still scars nonetheless. “I like them, so please, don’t feel bad.”
Shouto just sighed, and the moment Hanta’s shirt was properly on again, he leaned forward and hugged him. His friend wasted no time wrapping him up in their arms, and he supposed idly that Hanta must very much have a good instinct for wrapping, all things considered.
“You said you were hungry,” his fingers carefully danced in the hair on the back of his neck, separating red from white, “right?”
“I can’t,” he replied, pressing his face to their shoulder to avoid being against their neck.
“You can.” Their hand moved up. Fingers carded through his hair, making candy-cane stripes and swirls.
Shouto turned his head towards their neck, hands resting on their shoulders, fussing with the low, wide neckline of their simple grey sweater. It would be so easy to taste him, to have sweet sunlight on his lips again, and Hanta assured him it was allowed. The way he was being held had to be proof of that, gently cradled in their arms despite everything–despite him.
“I think I love you, too,” he breathed, voice trembling. He meant it so much, the rush of warmth in his chest making him feel whole, and Hanta’s arms drew him closer, held him tighter, made him feel safe in response. He was home here. He was loved here.
He didn’t feel guilty when he pressed his fangs to the side of Hanta’s neck. He didn’t feel like he was a monster when he bit down, and he didn’t feel like he was taking from him when he closed his lips around the bite and finally tasted them fully, properly.
They had both made themselves a home, here in each other's arms.