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Izuku's shadow leaps and twists, a dozen reaching hands and curls of hair.
Izuku knows that he is the only one who can see it, who is haunted by the shades of what was once, and what might be again. Of the knowledge of who he is, what he is. (Because he is Deku, he is a Lace, he is meant to be the next Symbol but he is broken-)
Still though, he can't help but flinch away, even just a little, from the aching memories of it, from how he can nigh-on feel the hands on his skin, the heat and the cutting and the crushing-
"Are you okay, Izuku?" The words are low, a smooth sort of softness to them in that way that is so characteristic of Shouto, and without so much as a thought he is curling into his boyfriend's side, murmuring that he's fine, thank you, even though he suspects Shouto can fully tell that it's a half-truth at best.
Several of his friends are looking at him, now, although they don't let their attention linger too long, too heavy. His friends know full well how much, even two years into all knowing each other, Izuku does not like extended attention on him, not when he isn't being a hero anyway. (Not when he is feeling so very vulnerable, shuddering fit to fall apart from the inside-out, because today he cannot escape his own past. His own self. Not when so many shadows are lingering in the corners of his eyes, reaching for him once again.
Sometimes it feels like those hands from his past have never left him.)
"If you're sure," Shouto murmurs, giving Izuku the opportunity to change his mind. (It's an interaction that Izuku knows full well that Shouto has learnt from him, a thought that makes it all the sweeter; they have grown together, over the last two years, and have learnt many things from each other. There's a kindness to it. A bittersweet, no-longer-lonely familiarity.)
"I am. But thank you." There's a hum through the chest that Izuku is leaning into, but Shouto doesn't call him out on it. They both know that some times and places aren't right for this sort of discussion.
Izuku loves his boyfriend, and his friends, so very much.
Even though when they all stand to leave the canteen, perhaps a little earlier than usual to try and avoid the crowds. Still though, there's a small crowd of people leaving at the same time, and some of them are playing around, pushing at each other. Izuku's friends start to gather around him, blatantly aware that he's having a bad day, but it isn't quite soon enough.
Not when there is someone toppling into Uraraka, who stumbles as well, caught off-guard midstep, and she faceplants against Izuku's shoulder, hands coming up to catch herself.
"Shit, sorry-" But even whilst she's apologising to Izuku, shifting properly back to her feet, she is whipping around to glare at the First Years for rough-housing in the canteen, starting to tell them to be more careful.
But Izuku barely catches any of the words, because there were hands against his back and now his feet are leaving the ground like when he can't control Float and he can feel nothing except the breathlessness, the panic, the intense heat of remembered scars as though they are happening again right now, sharp and concussive and searing so deeply against his skin that it marred his very bones, right down to his marrow, where he will never be able to escape it or change it. He can only be reminded. Haunted.
The next thirty seconds or so are a blur, Shouto's hands clutching his wrist, pulling him close. (Staring down at his shoes, at his optimistically black Laces but he should have known better, should have tried harder, should have expected that something would go wrong, he's had too many good days and good things of late-) Izuku's weight is returned to him, one ankle twisting, giving, beneath him. He can't think straight, can barely breathe, only able to focus on the phantom sensations blurring together with the real ones.
Things happen around him then, but all Izuku can focus on is keeping the sparks on his skin restrained, his scarred fingers tangling into Shouto's blazer even whilst what he can see fades into shadowed corners and reaching hands, the flare of red eyes, months ago, years ago, forever and always-
He finally begins to zone in again after a while, for the sound of a familiar, safe voice, for a cold floor beneath him, solid and real and steadying.
"-zuku, you are safe. We are all safe, it's okay. Izuku, please, listen to me. Everything is fine." He is being pulled closer to that cool-warm heartbeat, the only thing he can truly focus on enough to try and come back from his half-gone panic.
His limbs, trembling, begin to become his once again, real and tangible and aching. Izuku- Izuku is exhausted. There are still shadows in the edges of his vision, crowding in his mind, and his lungs feel like they're choked with blood that he can taste, bitter-ferrous sharp on his tongue, but Shouto is here. He's safe right now, even if he wasn't then. Shouto is here, and the worst injury Izuku currently has is the strain of a panic-stricken dissociative episode, and they're okay.
Everything still feels distant, half-faded and grey-washed, but he can feel Shouto's arms around him, and hear his heartbeat. There are words that he isn't really coherent enough to fully process, let alone reply to, but he vaguely knows that Shouto won't mind, that he never has before. No, Izuku just curls impossibly further into his partner, drinking in every bit of contrasting temperature and gentle affection.
"Th'ks." Through all of the remaining agony and cloud-lurched distance in his bones, the darkness staining his mind, Izuku is very much grateful for his partner. For Shouto just being here, with him.
"Always, Izuku," Shouto breathes, and it brings him every possible bit of joy, no matter the circumstances.
It's quite likely that they won't return to classes for the afternoon, or that Izuku won't at least, huddled up in his dorm room, or perhaps Shouto's, surrounded by familiar sights and smells, a weighted blanket and microwaved teddy to keep him warm and weighted and there, rather than dissociating.
He will be alright soon, once he has had a little time and support, a chance to come back to himself, and even if he's still a little shudder-weak tomorrow morning, he will still be better than he was, a night of cuddles and safety a constant reassurance, and Shouto's concern a balm to his lingering thoughts of Laces and deserved pain.
When he's so very, very loved, when he isn't alone, it's so much easier to feel okay again.