Ice Cold

Unhealed Wounds

Shouto's eyes fluttered open and he tried to stand, but it hurt more than anything, so he decided to stay still.

"Shouto?"

He turned his head a bit and found himself staring into your eyes. "Y-Y/N...?"

You put your hands on his cheeks and he felt the warmth of life from your hold. He sighed and leaned into your touch, his eyes closing again.

"No, eyes open," you instructed with a tone equivalent to the one you used with children. Gentle. Calm.

There were times when you'd hold children close to you as you protected them and you tried to maintain a calm demeanour. At some point, it just turned to your default.

Now, however, you had never felt so much panic well up in you before.

Shouto's eyes remained open, tiredly, only because you told him to. "Where did..." His eyes strayed from your face and he saw things that couldn't even be considered corpses, not even to nomus.

One was burnt beyond recognition, small flames acting as remnants of your torture to it. It continued to twitch, but it couldn't move, not with a brain that was nothing more than ash.

Another was confined in spikes, each prong contorting it oddly, making its skin rip and its limbs bend every which way; blood trickled down the rock but it still continued to fight for life.

The remaining was the only one completely still, pinned to the ground by spikes of ice and rock.

His eyes widened just a bit before he felt your hand on his chest and he relaxed.

"Don't look," you said, taking his chin and gently making him face you again. Your tone had a backbone of guilt.

He tried to lift his hand to place it where he knew it comforted you—your shoulder, your cheeks, even your hand would suffice—but he couldn't move without being greeted with excruciating pain.

Your hands glowed and you began pressing against different parts of his body. Every time you asked if it hurt, he said yes.

A sigh left you, although it was more of a shudder. "I shouldn't have let them station you alone," you concluded.

"Y/N..."

"Using my name on duty is unprofessional." You made it seem like you hated it, but you didn't. You were more terrified of it. The name, the pure moment of desperation as they feel themselves slip, was the moment you hated the most in every story.

It meant someone would be lost.

"Please, Y/N, give me this moment."

You shook your head. "No. You'll get this moment later."

"Please..."

"No!" Your voice broke with that simple word and you shook your head harder. "Please don't use that tone. Don't use the same tone as them."

His lips parted a bit before he smiled and assured you with a deep, painful breath. "I just want to talk to you... while you... heal me."

After a slow realization that your healing wasn't doing anything, you finally nodded slowly and he spoke.

"Do you... remember when you started... drawing a picture of me?"

Your distraught expression fashioning furrowed brows and pursed lips relaxed and you nodded.

"I want... you to finish it... one day. You liked to draw, you said."

You hummed and nodded.

He continued staring at the sky. "I remember when I'd see you darting through the air above-head and I thought you were so enchanting."