Chapter Text
The dorm always smelled the same on Sunday afternoons.
A mix of cheap detergent, reheated food, and that heavy air that got trapped between the walls when everyone returned at the same time. Shouto noticed it as soon as he stepped into the room, bag slung over one shoulder, still cold from outside.
The room wasn’t big. Two bunk beds, two desks, and four closets lined up as if order could make up for the lack of space. The windows had been closed since last Friday.
Iida was sitting on the edge of his bed, the top bunk at the back. His posture was straight, as always, but the handkerchief in his hand broke the usual image.
“I don’t think I’ve fully recovered,” Iida said, his tone still serious, still formal. “I wasn’t feeling well on Friday, and even after resting all weekend, it hasn’t improved much.”
As if to confirm it, he sneezed. A strong, wet sneeze, followed by a shorter one. He apologized immediately, wiping carefully.
Shouto, who had been putting his clothes away, looked up. It didn’t seem severe, but it didn’t seem minor either. Iida’s eyes were slightly glassy, the color of his face a little warmer than usual.
“I’ve had a headache since this morning,” Iida continued. “I don’t think it would be wise to ignore it.”
From the other bunk, Bakugou clicked his tongue, sitting on the lower bed as he untied his sneakers.
“Great. Just now” he growled. “Don’t cough over here.”
Kirishima, lounging on his bed without losing his smile, chimed in.
“Man, if it’s one of those, no wonder,” he said. “That flu’s been brutal. Half the dorm’s been like that lately. I saw a bunch of people with colds last week, even in class.”
Shouto didn’t say anything. He watched as Iida carefully settled back and folded the handkerchief beside him.
“If it gets worse during the night, I’ll say something,” Iida said. “But I think I won’t go to class tomorrow.”
The words landed heavily.
Bakugou looked up sharply.
“Skip?” he repeated. “You?”
“It’s the responsible thing,” Iida replied without hesitation. “I don’t want to infect anyone or make it worse.”
Shouto lowered his gaze and went back to organizing his clothes. Iida never missed class. Hearing him say it so decisively made it sound final.
That night, the silence was interrupted several times.
From the opposite bunk, Iida coughed, trying to keep it quiet, holding it back. Every time, the sound carried across the room. Shouto stayed awake longer than usual, listening to someone else’s breathing, the rustle of the handkerchief, the restless movement of someone who couldn’t quite get comfortable.
Bakugou shifted beneath him.
“If you’re still awake, go to sleep. Close your eyes.” he muttered.
Shouto closed his eyes, obedient.
Monday morning, as they got ready to go to breakfast, Iida was sitting at one of the desks, several books open in front of him, his back tense. A half-finished cup sat nearby, with a crumpled handkerchief beside it.
“You should stay in bed,” Kirishima said as he pulled on his jacket. “I can bring you something from the cafeteria later.”
Iida looked up. He blinked a couple of times before nodding, and the cough hit him before he could say anything. It was deep, rough, forcing him to lean forward. He covered his mouth with the handkerchief and took a careful breath.
“I’d appreciate that,” he said at last, his voice slightly hoarse. “I don’t think I can go down right now.”
He paused, adjusting his glasses. “I’ll stay here for a bit. Just reviewing.”
Bakugou frowned.
“You’re not okay,” he growled. “You should be back in bed.”
The cafeteria was as loud as always.
At that hour, before classes started, it filled quickly, students coming and going with trays in their hands, chairs scraping against the floor, overlapping conversations rising and falling without order.
Long tables took up almost all the space, lined up in rows. There wasn’t much choice; you sat wherever there was room, or where you always did.
Shouto sat at their usual table, next to Bakugou and Kirishima. The seat across from them remained empty.
He ate slowly, without hurry. The noise washed over him without sticking too long in his head.
“Hey, Todoroki.”
Mineta’s voice came from the other side of the table, louder than necessary, charged with an almost eager energy.
Shouto looked up.
“Don’t you share room with Iida?” Mineta continued without waiting for an answer. “He didn’t look too good on Friday. I thought he’d be here today, but I guess he finally went down, huh? A lot of people are sick lately. The flu’s going around.”
Kirishima stopped chewing.
“Hey,” he cut in. “That’s not something to sound excited about.”
Mineta’s grin widened.
“I’m not saying it’s good,” he defended himself. “Just… what a shame, right? Losing perfect attendance like that. Iida’s had it for years.”
His eyes slid back to Shouto.
“Now it’s just you and me. Though, being his roommate…” he shrugged. “You’re at a disadvantage.”
Shouto tightened his grip on his utensils. He didn’t answer right away.
“I’m not sick,” he said finally.
“Yet,” Mineta corrected. “But hey, someone’s gotta win, and it’s gonna be me.”
Bakugou clicked his tongue sharply.
“You talk too much,” he snarled. “You really want Shouto to get sick just so he’ll miss a day?”
“I’m just saying,” Mineta replied. “It’s not my fault if destiny—”
“Shut up,” Bakugou cut him off.
Kirishima let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck.
Shouto had already lowered his gaze to his plate. The cafeteria noise wrapped around him again, but the comment lingered. Not because he thought Mineta was right—but because he didn’t like anyone assuming he’d lose.
Perfect attendance had never mattered much to him. It was just the result of showing up every day. But Mineta counting him out ahead of time was unacceptable.
When they finished eating, Kirishima stood first.
“I’m gonna take Iida his breakfast, go ahead and go to the classroom.” he said. “Can you guys take my tray?”
Bakugou nodded without argument.
Shouto picked up his tray and Kirishima’s, balancing them carefully, making sure nothing spilled.
He wasn’t going to miss a day. Not because of Mineta. Not because of anyone.
After the classes, they went back to the dorm before heading to their respective clubs.
Iida was in bed, wrapped up to his chest in the blanket. His hair was slightly messy, his glasses set on the pillow beside him, but his expression looked more relaxed than it had that morning.
“Thank you for bringing the food again,” he said, sitting up.
Kirishima set the tray down on the empty desk.
“Hey…” his voice softened. “Have you been like this all morning?”
Iida nodded.
“My headache got worse,” he explained. “So I stopped studying and lay down for a bit. Sleeping helped. I feel better now.”
Bakugou frowned as he looked around.
There were crumpled tissues on the blanket, more scattered across the desk Iida had been using earlier.
“Seriously? You didn’t clean this up?”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” Iida replied, unapologetic. “I was going to before you guys got back.”
Shouto didn’t say anything, but he stepped forward and gathered the tissues, carrying them to the trash.
Iida, climbing down from the bunk, thanked him quietly.
Once they made sure Iida started eating, the room came back to life.
Kirishima changed in front of his closet, talking about that afternoon’s training. Bakugou grabbed a clean shirt and left without saying much else.
Shouto was the last to get ready. His training was later, so he took his swim bag from the closet and set it on the bed.
Iida was already eating, seated at the desk where Kirishima had left the food.
Shouto sat beside him and opened one of the notebooks.
“They covered more than usual today,” he said. “I took notes, in case you need them.”
Iida looked up, visibly surprised.
“Thank you,” he said. “I didn’t want to fall behind.”
Shouto flipped through a few pages and pointed out some key points, explaining only what was necessary. Iida listened attentively, nodding now and then, eating slowly between sentences.
“Doesn’t seem too complicated,” Iida commented at the end. “I’ll catch up once I’m better.”
“Yeah,” Shouto said, closing the notebook after checking the time. “It wasn’t too hard.”
Iida sounded clearer than he had that morning, and that made Shouto’s shoulders relax a little.
It didn’t seem serious.
Shouto stood, grabbed his swim bag, and said goodbye before heading to the pool.
“Thanks again for the food,” Iida added.
Shouto nodded.
He closed the door carefully behind him.
Shouto returned to the dorm after dark. Neither Bakugou nor Kirishima was back yet.
The hallway was almost empty, the air different from the pool. His hair was still damp when he set his swim bag beside his bed and changed with automatic movements, not thinking too much.
Iida was asleep.
Or at least, it looked that way. He lay on his side, the blanket pulled up to his chest. His breathing wasn’t irregular, but it was deeper than usual. Every so often he shifted uncomfortably, bringing an arm up to his forehead as if the heat bothered him.
After putting on his pajamas, Shouto started tidying the desk he’d left earlier. He moved to his bunk and carefully arranged his things: uniform folded over the chair, book placed on the makeshift shelf, shoes lined neatly beneath Bakugou’s bed. Everything in order. Everything as always.
That was when he felt the tickle.
Nothing strong. Just a slight irritation in his throat, like he’d breathed dry air for too long. Shouto swallowed and ignored it. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t itch. It was nothing.
He coughed.
A low, short cough, one he tried to suppress. He brought his fist to his mouth by reflex, turning his head slightly. The sound disappeared into the room.
Iida didn’t move.
Shouto stayed still for a few seconds, assessing. He swallowed again, and the sensation faded almost immediately.
“Nothing,” he murmured to himself.
He climbed into the bunk carefully and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.
Iida moved again. This time he sat up a little, coughed harder, and climbed down from the bunk with care. He walked toward the hallway bathroom, pausing briefly to lean against the wall.
When he returned, his face looked more tired. He slipped back into bed without saying anything.
“Night,” Shouto said quietly.
Iida nodded faintly.
Later, Kirishima and Bakugou returned from training. The room filled again with brief movements, tired sighs, and clothes tossed aside.
When they turned off the main light, the dorm fell into dimness.
Shouto closed his eyes.
A couple of minutes later, he coughed again.
This time he couldn’t hide it completely. His throat burned for just a second, then nothing.
He thought about what Mineta had said during breakfast, then pushed the thought away.
He wasn’t sick.
It was just the air. The exhaustion.
Nothing else.