Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It happens while Shouto is doing some spring cleaning. He notices a large box shoved in the far corner of the highest shelf in his bedroom closet. It isn’t labeled, but neither is anything else in his entire apartment (as he’s so conveniently learned today). Standing on his toes, and praying that the squeak of the wooden chair beneath him isn’t a sign that he’s about to seriously hurt himself, he pulls the box down from its hiding place.

It’s heavy, and it’s covered in a thick layer of dust. Although he’s only lived in this apartment for three years, this particular box doesn’t look like it’s been touched in at least five . He steps down from the chair and drops the box to the floor with a loud clunk. He sits on the floor and easily removes the very old duct tape and pulls back the dusty tabs. 

The box, Shouto discovers, is filled to the brim with his old school books. Textbooks and notebooks, pages dogeared and annotated and overflowing with echoes of days gone by. Shouto reaches in and pulls out a painfully familiar red spiral notebook, covered in dust and memories. He flips it open and a small smile sneaks across his face. His all-too-neat handwriting stares back at him, but it’s the unsteady scrawl and doodles in the margins that send Shouto hurtling back in time like a trajectile. 

Suddenly, he’s in his dorm room. The tatami mat floor is littered with crumpled note pages, chewed pens, and empty snack wrappers. Classical music is playing from a laptop somewhere to the left (Mozart, probably) and Shouto is sitting with his back against the wall. Beside him, muttering quietly to himself as his eyes scan his textbook at a million miles a minute, is Izuku Midoriya. His hair falls into his eyes like overgrown leaves on a tree, twisting and tangling in viridian curls. The air smells like microwaved soba noodles and comfortable silence. 

“What’ve you got there?” Momo’s voice pulls Shouto from the depths of his own consciousness. She’s standing in the doorway, hot-pink rubber cleaning gloves pulled tight over her hands that sit softly at her hips. 

Shouto holds up the notebook. “Old school stuff,” he says and he sees her face soften a little. 

She crosses the room and kneels beside him. She looks into the box and a smile plays on her lips. Shouto wonders what memories these items stir up for her, what she thinks of when she sees the logo of their alma mater. If he had to guess though, when Momo looks at Shouto’s old school books she probably sees rock music, cold ginseng tea, boom boxes and shared secrets. 

He’s sure that she sees Kyouka Jirou. 

“Wow,” she says, picking up his third year hero law textbook. “I can’t believe you kept all of this stuff.” 

Shouto shrugs. “Holding onto old memories,” he says wistfully. “Or you know. Something like that.” 

Momo snorts. “Oh please,” she sighs, waving a dismissing hand in his direction. “You are the least sentimental person I’ve ever met. You and I both know that your sister probably packed these into a box when you were moving out of your dorm and then you shoved it onto that shelf the moment you moved into this place and forgot about it.” 

That’s exactly what happened.  

Shouto cracks a smile and lets out a soft sigh. Okay. Yeah. He isn’t really one for holding onto old memories. “I guess I can throw these out then.” 

“Totally,” Momo agrees. She begins to put the text book back into the box when something falls out of the pages and onto the floor. Curiously, she picks it up and turns it over in her hands. It’s a folded piece of paper with his name on it. 

“What’s that?” Shouto asks, reaching out to take it from her. The paper feels old, pressed down between the pages of his old book for god knows how long. Shouto unfolds it and recognizes the handwriting immediately — this is a letter from Midoriya. 

The words are scrawled out in shaky blue ink, but the writing is a lot neater than Izuku’s usual note taking. It looks like this was done purposefully, as if Izuku were trying his hardest to make his writing look neat. 

Todoroki, 

I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m writing you this letter. We graduate in 4 days (crazy right?), and I can’t even begin to thank you for all that you’ve done for me over these last 3 years. You are my best friend, and I know that this might come as a surprise to you so no pressure at all... but recently it’s become even more than that. I know that it might be weird for you, but if there’s a chance that you feel the same way, I don’t want to graduate without you knowing. I’m not sure where the future is going to lead us, and I don’t even know if we’ll be on speaking terms next year once we’re working as pro heroes (although I really hope we are still friends). What I’m trying to say is: I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I think that maybe there’s a chance you feel the same way? If you do, meet me by the tree on campus that you almost set on fire in our second year. You know the one. The one with the flowers. Meet me after graduation. Please. 

P.S. Seriously no pressure if you don’t feel the same way, I totally understand! :) Plus ultra!

-Izuku Midoriya 

Shouto’s heart stops. He feels ice begin to spread from the tips of his right fingers and onto the note. 

“What?” Momo asks, voice heavy with concern. “What is it?” 

Shouto doesn’t say anything, he just holds out the letter for her to take from him. She looks a little confused, but takes it anyway. Her eyes scan the words and her jaw drops.

“This is…” she lifts her gaze and stares at Shouto. “A love letter from Midoriya.” It isn’t a question. 

“Yeah,” Shouto says, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the fact that his tongue has turned to sandpaper in his mouth. 

“But I don’t understand.” Momo’s voice is flustered. “You had a huge crush on him in our third year. Why did you ignore this?” 

“I didn’t,” Shouto says, ice-cold misery forming like a lump in his stomach. 

“But then why… oh .” Her face falls. 

“Yeah.” Shoto takes the note from her hand and folds it gently. “Oh.” 

She’s quiet for a minute, and then she huffs, annoyed. “Well why would he put it in your textbook? How on earth could he have expected you to find it?” 

Shouto says nothing. He slips the letter into his pocket carefully, as if it’s made of very thin, very fragile glass. 

He tries not to picture a crestfallen Izuku waiting for him beneath that tree after graduation. He tries not to imagine those brilliant green eyes filled with disappointment and spilling over with embarrassment as minutes turned to hours and Shouto was nowhere to be seen. 

He tries. 

(He fails.) 

He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a low groan. He hates the idea of hurting Izuku. He especially hates the idea of accidentally hurting Izuku years ago with no possible way to apologize for it. 

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that,” Momo says softly, reading his feelings from his body language. She places a comforting hand on Shouto’s back and he doesn’t push her away. “Besides, this is kind of a good thing!” 

Shouto lifts his face to look at her with an expression he hopes says: how in the seven layers of Hell can this be a good thing? 

“Now you know he likes you back,” she says, voice wavering ever so slightly. 

“No,” Shouto explains, burying his face in his hands. “I know he liked me. Five years ago . In high school .” 

He thinks of scribbled flash cards and Symphony No. 40 and tangled legs. He thinks of unspoken trust and hidden feelings and accidental sleepovers. He thinks of the way his heart had fluttered every time they’d made physical contact, accidental or otherwise. He thinks of the first and only person he’d ever really loved. 

“Well, you still like him, right?” 

“What does that have to do with it?” 

Momo rolls her eyes. “Well, if you’re still in love with him after all of this time, maybe he’s still in love with you.” 

Shouto stares at her incredulously. He considers her thought process for a moment — only a moment — before dismissing it. No. There’s no way that Izuku Midoriya, runner up to become the world’s greatest hero at age 23, would ever have feelings for socially awkward and r eally bad at public relations Shouto Todoroki. If it wasn’t for the letter written in Izuku’s own distinguishable scrawl, Shouto would never believe that feelings were ever reciprocated — even once upon a time. 

Izuku is… amazing. With his smile that lights up the room and unbendable spirit. Shouto considers himself lucky to even be able to call such a person his friend. 

“No,” he says finally, closing the tabs on the box and shoving it towards the doorway. “I don’t think so.” 

“Well I do.” Momo gets to her feet and wipes the dust off of her sweats. “And I think you should talk to him about it.” 

“Momo.” Shouto’s voice is a little bit more tense than he means for it to be. “It’s not going to happen.” 

“Why not?” 

“We work together.” As good a reason as any, as far as he’s concerned. Shouto’s pretty sure that confessing his love for his best friend, only to be rejected and have to work alongside him at the same agency is literally the worst possible situation that he can imagine. And besides: “He has a boyfriend .”

Momo chews the inside of her cheek and gives Shouto a thoughtful look before shaking her head and letting out a light-hearted sigh. “I suppose that’s true. You’ve got me there.” 

She stands and picks up the box effortlessly, as if it isn’t filled with feels like 100lbs of heavy memories. “I’d suggest donating these, but most of this information is outdated.” 

“Just throw it out,” Shouto discerns, standing to join her. “There’s no point in holding onto the past.” 

(Shouto can practically feel the note in his pocket burning a hole into his skin.)

*.*.*.*.*

Shouto tells himself that work isn’t going to be weird.

 It isn’t , because there’s absolutely no reason why it should be. 

He found an old letter written by a teenager that doesn’t even exist anymore. He found the fractured fragment of a memory that should have been swallowed by time. It doesn’t matter. 

And things at work are definitely 100% not going to be weird. 

*.*.*.*.*

Work is weird. 

It’s weird, and uncomfortable and Shouto absolutely hates it . When he walks into work on Monday morning, Izuku is waiting for him at his desk. 

Shouto tries to ignore the way Izuku’s hero costume stretches and pulls on his body in all the right ways. He uses every ounce of willpower he has not stare at the green spandex as it accentuates and highlights Izuku’s muscles. Somehow, Shouto had never noticed just how much Izuku had grown up until now. 

Gone is the short, round-faced boy with the disobedient head of green curls and an overbite from too much nervous pen chewing. Here to stay is the sturdy, hulking, tall Izuku, with a tight undercut and a domesticated crescendo of product-tamed ringlets. 

God , Shouto wonders to himself, when did they become adults ? 

He leans lightly against Shouto’s desk, a file open in his hands and a familiar finger perched just below his bottom lip as his eyes scan the contents of the file. He’s muttering to himself and Shouto feels a smile tug at the corners of his lips. 

Okay , he thinks with a little sigh of relief, maybe Izuku hasn’t changed that much. 

“You’re muttering,” Shouto says, tone stark. “Must be something good.” 

“O-oh!” Izuku looks up from the file, a cherry-red glow materializing on his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “Yeah, it’s the file on that burglary case they were talking about last week.” 

Shouto nods and fixes his eyes on the file. “Anything useful?” 

“Nothing that we hadn’t already suspected on our own. Some sort of body modification quirk that allows for easy ins and outs. Appearance alteration at the least.” 

“So, we’re dealing with a shapeshifter.” Shouto says firmly. 

“Looks like it, yeah.” 

Shouto sighs and folds his hands beneath his chin. He doesn’t lift his eyes to meet Izuku’s. He can’t. Things are weird, like, really weird. And Izuku doesn’t even know that things are weird. 

Get it together Shouto . 

“So, what’s the plan?” Shouto wills himself to look up into Izuku’s face and regrets it almost immediately. Izuku is staring down at him with his signature goofy smile plastering his face. His eyes look at Shouto like they always have — like he’s something worth seeing, like he’s something, someone , that matters. Cinnamon sugar freckles embellish his face and spread down his neck, disappearing beneath the fabric of his tight costume. Shouto swallows and tries not to think about how far down those freckles go. 

“We’re on patrol this afternoon in that sector of the city.” Izuku tosses the file onto Shouto’s desk. “Orders are to ‘look out for suspicious activity’. They think that the burglar is likely to strike again in the same area.” 

“When do we head out?” 

Izuku’s smile stretches even wider. “As soon as you’re suited up, Hero Shouto .” 

*.*.*.*.*

Comfortable silence is something that Shouto finds extremely valuable. He’s not very good at talking, and he’s even worse at trying to force small talk. That’s why it’s always been easy to work alongside Izuku. 

Izuku is one of the only people who knows how to read Shouto’s mood. He knows not to push Shouto to talk about things until he’s ready, he knows how to sit in silence with Shouto. Since high school, they’ve always been able to find comfort and enjoyment in just being in one another’s company — watching movies or reading together in the same room. They’ve always been able to find pleasure in the mundane. Izuku knows Shouto better than anyone.

Unfortunately for Shouto, it is for this exact reason that Izuku is able to read that silence that falls between them on their patrol that day is anything but comfortable. Shouto’s been unusually jumpy, and still can’t look Izuku in the eye. He curses himself for letting something so stupid get to him, and he curses Izuku for being so painstakingly attractive.

“Hey,” Izuku starts, after an hour of sideways glances and huffed breaths. They’re perched at the edge of a rooftop doing street surveillance. “Did I do something to make you mad?” 

“What?” Shouto feels the tips of his right fingers begin to freeze. Frost sneaks and climbs his digits like a spider spinning a carefully constructed web. 

Shit. Has he really been that obvious? 

“Well, you haven’t said anything to me in like, an hour?” Izuku explains. “Which, it’s you , so that’s not really a big deal. But you’re also not really even…looking at me?” Izuku swings his legs over the ledge of the rooftop and gives Shouto a troubled look. “And your fingers are doing that nervous thing.” 

Shouto glances down at his frost coated fingers and feels his cheeks begin to burn. Leave it to Izuku to notice even the smallest change in Shouto’s demeanor. 

“Oh,” Shouto says, not bothering to do anything about the frost. “No, I’m not angry with you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.” 

“I don’t suppose it’s worth asking if you’re up for talking about it?” 

“I’m not,” Shouto says simply. “Sorry. Just not right now.” 

“That’s okay.” Izuku smiles warmly. “Just know that I’m here to talk if you need it. You know that you can count on me. Even if, like, you just want to binge watch nature documentaries like we did in high school to take your mind off of the stress, that’s totally fine with me.” 

Shouto doesn’t know how to tell Izuku that being alone together in one of their apartments watching nature documentaries would be the opposite of helpful, so he doesn’t. He wants to be able to tell Izuku what’s wrong but he doesn’t know how . 

Hey, so I found a letter you wrote me in high school that you probably thought I ignored, but nope! I’m just an extremely dense idiot and a hoarder and I didn’t notice that you’d slipped it into my text book until now. Anyway, I’ve been in love with you since the sports festival our first year so would you please break up with your boyfriend and date me now? Thanks, cool. 

Yeah. 

No.

Shouto grimaces at the thought and swallows hard. “Thank you, Izuku.” 

“You’re my best friend , Shouto,” Izuku assures him with a smile. “You don’t have to thank me.” 

The words sting, just a little. 

“Hey so uh,” Izuku says casually after a moment. “Change of subject but: are you busy on Friday?”

Shouto narrows his eyes and proceeds with caution. “I’m not sure yet, why?” 

“There’s this festival happening in the city on Friday night. There’s going to be fireworks and takoyaki and art vendors and stuff. Ya know, summer.” He makes a small arch in the air with his hands. “Would you want to go with me?” 

Shouto considers it for a moment. “Just the two of us?” he asks, not caring about being obvious. 

“Well, no.” Izuku bites the inside of his cheek. “The two of us… and Hikaru.” 

Ah. There it is. 

Shouto notices a dry patch of skin at the base of his left thumb. Using his right thumb, he begins to dig his nail in, pulling gently at the dehydrated shriveled skin. A nervous habit. 

“I’ll have to see,” Shouto says thickly. “I can’t make a commitment right now.” 

“But if it were just the two of us you’d want to go,” Izuku mumbles in a huff just loud enough for Shouto to hear him. 

“Don’t say it like that. You know it isn’t like that.” 

Shouto presses his nail harder and pulls back, his dead skin falling off easily, revealing raw, pink skin beneath it. When the summer air touches the new, sensitive skin it stings. 

“Look if you don’t like Hikaru you can just tell me,” Izuku says, clearly hurt. “He likes you a lot and wants me to invite you along to places with us, but it feels like whenever he’s involved you always say no.” 

Shouto sighs loudly and continues digging his nail into the bed of his other, pressing through the pain and peeling back nervous layers of raw emotion that burn and die and flake away in small painful ribbons. 

“What’s not to like?” Shouto asks, and he doesn’t have to fake genuinity. 

Because, really, there isn’t anything unlikable about Izuku’s boyfriend. Sometimes Shouto wonders if maybe things would be easier if Hikaru were an asshole or some overzealous meathead. But he’s not. He’s a sweet guy with gorgeous eyes and a perfect smile and a goddamn sunlight quirk. The guy owns a flower shop. He’s literally a ray of cosmic sunlight rolled up right and compacted into a painfully attractive human body. 

“That’s what I’m wondering,” Izuku continues. “You seem to dislike him so I wanted to ask you.” 

“It’s not that I dislike him, Izuku. I like him a lot,” Shouto tries to explain. “I just don’t like being a third wheel.” 

Izuku stares at him for a moment, and then looks away. 

“It doesn’t seem to matter with Kyouka and Momo,” he says, defeated.

“That’s…” The words die in his mouth before they even have a chance. “That’s different.” 

“Is it though?” Izuku asks, voice picking up a little. “Because to me it feels like you just don’t like Hikaru, who never did anything to you.” 

Shouto says nothing. He digs his nail harder into his skin. 

“Unless…” Izuku pauses, unsure. He looks away. “Unless the person you have a problem with is me.” 

It bleeds .

“It’s not like that,” Shouto says sharply, finally pulling his hand away. The newly open wound tingles with sharp needles of pain, raw exposed skin rejecting the air as it festers. 

“Then what is it like, Shouto?” 

“Izuku…” 

Shouto’s words are cut off by the distinct sound of shattering glass somewhere below them. 

Izuku jumps to his feet. “Did you hear that?” he asks, eyes narrowing and darting through the streets below them. 

“I did,” Shouto replies, getting to his feet as well. He’s thankful for an excuse to put their conversation on the back burner. “Do you think it’s our villain?” 

“Only one way to find out.” Izuku unsnaps his leg pouch and pulls out his black fighting gloves. He pulls them on and coils of green lightning cascade and cloak themselves around his body, electrifying the green of his eyes. 

Shouto wonders how many times he has to see Izuku power up before it stops taking his breath away. 

Izuku nods at Shouto and flashes a goofy grin before crouching down and leaping off of the building. He lands easily on the ledge of a smaller adjacent building and pulls his mask up over his face. 

“Hero Shouto, can you hear me?” Izuku’s voice buzzes to life in Shouto’s headset. 

“Yes, Deku, you’re clear,” Shouto says softly into his mic. “Have you got eyes on the break-in?” 

“Yeah. Looks like a broken window on a door. I think it’s for the back room to that jewelry store on 185th street.” 

Shouto cranes to try and get a good look. “What’s the plan?”

“Well, we don’t know for sure if it’s the same burglar that’s been hitting the other locations, so let’s proceed with caution.” Shouto sees Izuku jump down into the street and begin making his way through the crowds of people. “Keep in mind that if it is the one we’ve been tracking, we’re probably dealing with some sort of body alteration quirk but we don’t know any of the details yet, so be careful.” 

“Got it.” Shouto says with a nod. “So you take the back door and I’ll go through the front and see if the shopkeepers noticed anything suspicious?” 

“Actually,” Izuku laughs,“I was thinking of doing it the other way around. I’m better at talking to people than you are.”

Shouto frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Oh come on Shouto, you know you hate interacting with people when you don’t have to. I’ll go in the front and question the employees and you can go in through the back door. Besides, your quirk is better suited for stealth.” 

Shouto has to admit that Izuku has a point. He really does hate that whole “big smile stoic hero” thing that Izuku seems to be such a natural at. His quirk is better suited for stealth. 

But still. 

“Fine,” Shouto says, betrayed. “I’ll see you down there.” 

Shouto creates a path of ice and easily slides down it to the streets below, melting it behind him. He catches sight of Izuku in the street across from him. 

“You ready?” Izuku asks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” Shouto responds, making his way towards the busted back door. There are no people around, everything strangely still. 

“Shouto?” Izuku’s voice buzzes again, and Shouto jumps. 

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.” 

Shouto smiles. “Yeah, I will. You too.” 

When he gets to the door he notices glass all over the sidewalk but no blood. Okay , he thinks to himself,  so the villain must have used a tool to bust the glass . 

He pushes the door open and is met with a dimly lit hallway, a corridor that connects the back rooms of the various stores on the street. A utility corridor that shipment companies use to deliver expensive merchandise without being noticed by customers. 

The hallway is completely empty as Shouto makes his way through. He notices a few doors marked with high-end company names, and up ahead he spots a door ajar. When he reaches it he sees that Izuku’s suspicion was correct: it belongs to the jewelry store. 

Shouto takes a deep breath and readies his ice on his right hand before carefully grabbing the door knob with his left and tugging it open. 

He’s in the back room of the shop - windowless and packed to the ceiling with metallic boxes of expensive designer jewelry, all organized and locked away with bronze keyholes. There’s a woman rummaging through one of the open drawers and she jumps when she notices Shouto. 

“Excuse me, but you’re not allowed back here,” she says, turning to face Shouto. He notices her eyes dart to an emergency button on the opposite end of the room. She appears to be in her early thirties, chestnut brown hair and a chip in her front tooth. She’s wearing a pressed navy blue pants suit and a baby pink button up shirt. A faded white name tag says “Takaya”. 

An employee.

Shouto disarms his ice and holds up both hands in peaceful surrender.

“Hello,” he says awkwardly. “I’m Shouto. I’m a hero. I was on patrol and I noticed that there was a broken window on the door to your utility corridor.”

The woman’s face relaxes and she lets out a breath. 

“Oh,” she says softly. “You scared the hell out of me!” 

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that,” Shouto says, lowering his hands. “You didn’t see anyone come back here other than me, did you?” 

Takaya shakes her head. “No, it’s just me back here,” she says with a shrug. “I haven’t seen anyone else.” 

“The door was ajar,” Shouto explains, gesturing behind him. 

“Was it?” Takaya shoots a concerned look towards Shouto. “I must have left it open when I came in this morning. Thank you for telling me.” 

Before Shouto can continue, his earpiece buzzes to life. 

“Shouto?” 

“Yeah.” Shouto replies, holding a finger to Takaya asking her to wait for a moment. 

“We’re all good in the shop. No one has seen anything suspicious. Maybe they weren’t targeting the jewelry store, even though it fits the pattern that I was looking over this morning...huh. Weird. How are things in the back?” 

Shouto turns away from Takaya, who goes back to sorting jewelry. 

“You were right to suspect that the broken door led to the back rooms,” Shouto tells Izuku. “ I’m in the back room of the shop right now. There’s no one back here except for an employee named Takaya.” 

“What?” Izuku says, deadly serious. “Did you say Takaya?” 

“Yeah,” Shouto says, a chill going down his spine. Takaya stops sorting jewelry and turns to face Shouto, watching him carefully. “Why?” 

“She doesn’t happen to have short brown hair and a chipped front tooth?” 

“Oh.” Shouto’s eyes go wide as Takaya’s mouth contorts into a wicked grin. “ Shit. ” 

In an instant, chaos breaks loose. Shouto shoots ice towards the Takaya impersonator. He’s fast, but she’s faster. She ducks down low and pulls a pistol from under her blazer, aiming it towards Shouto and pulling the trigger as Shouto shoots another burst of ice in her direction. 

The moment the ice shoots from his fingertips, Izuku bursts through the door in an eruption of bright green lightning. 

Without hesitation, and with the fastest reflexes that Shouto has ever seen, Izuku dives in front of Shouto and snaps his finger. The simple action sends a seismic wave of energy hurtling towards the shapeshifter. 

She staggers and collapses from the impact, falling backwards into a pile of busted metal safes and scattered necklaces. Shouto takes the opportunity to use his ice to freeze her to the spot. 

He lets out a breath of warm air and starts to defrost his right side, relaxing into the feeling as it washes over him in a slow and steady wave. All things considered, this could have been a lot worse. 

“Uh…” Izuku’s voice is strained from somewhere behind Shouto. 

Shouto turns and sees Izuku leaning against a wall of boxes, hands clenched tightly to his side and stained red. He’s bleeding, and he’s bleeding a lot. Izuku collapses, face pale. 

But...how? 

Shouto’s blood goes cold. The bullet. 

The fucking bullet hit him. The bullet that Shouto had failed to stop. 

“Oh no,” Shouto breathes, rushing to Izuku’s side, hands reaching down without hesitation to apply pressure over Izuku’s own. 

“Oh my god, Izuku.” He swallows hard as warm blood floods over his fingers. “ Shit, Izuku I’m so sorry, I’m— oh god…” 

“It’s fine,” Izuku says through gritted teeth. “I’ve had worse. This is…” He winces. “This is nothing.” 

Shouto knows that he’s telling the truth, that he has had worse, but oh god that’s a lot of blood and fuck, someone needs to call for help like right now .

Shouto lets go of Izuku and slams the emergency button on the wall. An ear splitting alarm goes off in the store, but Shouto knows that it’s a matter of minutes until someone arrives on the scene. 

He unsnaps the medical pouch on his utility belt and pulls out gauze. His hands feel numb as he pulls the packaging off and his fingers tremble as he applies it to Izuku’s wound. 

“Oh god,” he says again, panic flooding his vision in a rush of scarlet. “Oh fuck, Izuku I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey. Hey.” Izuku takes a staggered breath. “Look at me.” 

Shouto obeys, pressing hard into Izuku’s wound to slow the bleeding. Izuku is pale, but otherwise he doesn’t look as bad as Shouto’s seen. Shouto meets his green eyes and Izuku smiles at him. Because, of course he’s going to smile while there’s a bullet hole in his fucking spleen. 

“I’m fine. Seriously,” Izuku assures him. “It didn’t hit any of my organs. A simple medical quirk and I’ll be right back to normal.” 

Shouto tries to nod but he can’t. He swallows the lump in his throat but it won’t go down. 

“This is my fault,” Shouto says thickly. “I should have stopped the bullet. I should have realized that she was an impersonator.” 

“Shouto, it’s not your fault. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Izuku promises. “Plus, we got her! The cops will be thrilled.” 

Shouto clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Can you please stop joking, I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he says innocently. “Honest.” He lets out another staggered breath and Shouto feels the blood soak through the gauze, hot and wet against his cold and shaking hands.

“But look, if you really want to make it up to me…” Izuku gives him a smug look. “Come to the festival with me on Friday.” Shouto scrunches up his face. “Please. I miss hanging out with you and H-Hikaru really w-wants to s-see you…” 

Before Shouto can answer, police officers fill the room. They stare at the scene in front of them for a moment in silence, and then all at once officers are apprehending the villain and calling the paramedics in from the street. 

Shouto gets pulled away by an officer to defrost the ice that's plastered all over the room and holding the villain’s feet to the floor. A paramedic takes his place and gets to immediate work treating Izuku’s wound. 

From behind him he hears Izuku chuckle as the paramedic assures him that it’s “not that bad, but you’re lucky we got here now because you’re losing a lot of blood.” 

Once they’re finished, the villain is taken into custody, the insurance company assesses the property damage, and they’re thanked for a job well done. Izuku is instructed to go home and rest, which he only promises to do after the paramedic threatens to call the agency and makes Shouto swear not to let him work anymore today. 

Before heading home, Shouto agrees to go to the festival with Izuku and Hikaru. 

It can’t be that bad.

*.*.*.*.*

Shouto comes up with exactly 47 excuses on the train ride from his apartment to the festival. Each scenario plays out before his eyes like a movie, flickering between ideas with the slapstick failures acting as his reason to dismiss each scheme the moment it appears in his head. 

He considers calling Izuku and telling him that he’s sick. 

“ But you’re never sick, Shouto. You literally brag about how you’ve only been sick 3 times in your entire life. What’s the real reason you don’t want to come? Is it because you don’t want to watch me makeout with my boyfriend while eating taiyaki?”  

Ba dum tss, fade to black.

He contemplates faking a hero related emergency. Maybe a fire and rescue mission that completely ruins his yukata so he can’t come to the festival. This idea seems like a great one, until he remembers that Izuku is his partner. 

“Why didn’t you call me? If it was a fire and rescue, I’d have been a huge help. Oh, that’s right, you made it up because you’re terrified of your feelings and would rather lie about lives being in danger than just talking to me about your problems like an actual adult. ” 

Cue laugh track. 

He debates saying that his cat is sick. No, he doesn’t have a cat, but Izuku doesn’t know that. 

“Do you mean cactus? Like the one you let die in our second year of high school? You let a cactus die. A cactus. Do you know how little effort a cactus takes? You don’t have a cat. What aren’t you telling me? What are you hiding?”

Roll credits. 

By the time his train pulls into the station, Shouto’s considering moving to another country to avoid the whole situation entirely. He can’t hide things from Izuku from France, right? 

Shouto walks miserably up the subway steps and into the hustle and bustle of the summer festival. It’s crowded, and the air is hot and heavy with July’s humidity. Two small children wearing yukata run past Shouto holding sparklers, laughing and smiling. Shouto is suddenly reminded of the last time he’d gone to one of these festivals. 

*

He’s 3 years old, the summer before his quirk manifests. He’s wearing a Yukata the color of a sunset and there are little koi fish printed onto the fabric. His mother had made it for him with a smile on her face and kindness in her stitching.

He’s sitting on Endeavor’s shoulders to get the best view possible of the kaleidoscopic fireworks as they decorate the night sky in a shower of color and warmth. He feels positively transcendental, higher than all of the other kids around him, the warmth of his father’s shoulders comfortable beneath his legs. 

He’s happy. 

*

He catches his reflection in the glass of an oversized advertisement and stops walking. He takes a moment to dwell on the changes that have taken place since that festival 20 years ago. His hair is longer now, pulled back in a two-tone ponytail that sits lazily against his back. His yukata is the color of the ocean in the moonlight - navy blue with swirls of black. He’d gotten it that morning for the sole purpose of wearing it to this festival. It was a little pricier than he’d have liked, but it suited him.

And then of course, the biggest change - the shriveled caramel-red scar staining the skin on the left side of his face. Even in the fluorescent lighting cascading from the cologne advertisement, Shouto can’t help but recoil at the revolting way his dehydrated skin stretches and divots below his eye. 

He forces himself to look away, and makes his way farther into the festival. It doesn’t take him long to spot Izuku — standing in front of a booth selling paper masks. He’s wearing an olive-green yukata, and as Shouto gets closer he notices white flowers beautifully embroidered along the top and bottom. Izuku is looking excitedly at one of the masks at the booth, he’s smiling, all teeth and dimples, looking up at— oh .  

Shouto sees him. 

Hikaru Ito. Standing beside Izuku, standing where Shouto should be, golden hair falling in feathery curtains around his strong and angular face, amber eyes positively glowing in the starlight. Izuku says something that Shouto can’t quite hear and Hikaru throws his head back with a laugh. 

Shouto’s stomach feels heavy and his mouth goes dry. For a moment he wonders if he actually can run away and pretend that he fell asleep and missed his alarm or something, but before he’s able to make a choice, Hikaru spots him. Hikaru taps Izuku’s shoulder and Izuku turns and smiles and Shouto’s done for. 

Don’t look at me like that, he wishes, please don’t look at me like that. 

“Hey,” Izuku calls out. “Shouto!” Izuku rushes over to where Shouto is standing, beaming with excitement. Hikaru comes up beside Izuku and wraps a gentle arm around his boyfriend. 

“Glad you were able to make it,” Hikaru says warmly, and Shouto thinks maybe he should just die on the spot. 

“Yeah,” Shouto manages. He tries to focus on something other than Izuku. Anything other than Izuku. 

He tries not to look at the way Izuku leans into Hikaru’s touch, the way that his hand moves gradually, naturally, to slide into place with his partner’s. He tries not to imagine the intimacies that they must share, tries not to imagine the smell of Izuku’s hair after a long day at work — smoke, sweat, and cinnamon. He’d learned long ago to push his feelings down when it came to Izuku, but after finding that note the flood gates had been opened. 

He doesn’t want to think about all of the things that could have been. There’s no point crying over things that didn’t happen. 

“They have takoyaki over there,” Hikaru says, getting a little too close to comfort. Shouto takes a step away on instinct, but Hikaru just keeps getting closer. “Wanna go get some?” 

Shouto stutters a little, not sure how to answer. He can’t figure out a polite way to say that he fucking hates takoyaki. He looks over at Izuku for help. 

“Totally,” Izuku says happily, noticing Shouoto’s discomfort. He grabs his partner’s arm and pulls him away, which Shouto is thankful for. “I think there’s a cold soba stand somewhere too, so we should make sure to stop there so that Shouto can get some.” 

Shouto’s chest tightens. Of course Izuku would remember what his favorite food is. 

“It’s his favorite,” Izuku says with a shrug when Hikaru gives him a look. 

“In that case, we’ll be sure to go get some.” Hikaru tightens his hold on Izuku’s shoulders and places a soft kiss on his curls. It’s intimate. Soft. 

Shouto looks away, jealousy pulling at his heart strings. 

“I’m actually not feeling too well,” Shouto lies. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stay out too long. So don’t worry about stopping somewhere for my sake.” 

Izuku gives Shouto a look. He narrows his eyes, bites at the inside of his cheek, like he’s trying to figure something out. A scowl flickers across his face — there one minute and gone the next.  

Shit, Shouto thinks, recognizing that look. He knows. 

“I mean,” Shouto stammers, trying to find something to cover his ass. “I ate before I came here, and I’ve got an early shift tomorrow so—” 

Izuku sighs, and his smile comes back. “Aw, that’s too bad,” he says, but Shouto’s pretty sure Izuku’s being dishonest. “We get it, you’re a busy guy.” 

They meet eyes and Izuku gives him a nod of understanding. Shouto tried. He made an effort. He came out to the stupid festival and even wore a yukata, and that counts for something. Izuku sees that. He gets it. 

“Sorry,” Shouto says, and he means it. He is sorry that he can’t do this. It’s too much. 

“Well then, let’s do as much fun stuff as we can while you’re here with us.” Hikaru offers his sweetest smile. Hikaru is so genuine, so considerate, that Shouto has no choice but to nod and agree to make their way through the festival. 

It would be easier if he could hate Hikaru. All of this would be easier if Hikaru were an asshole. He could rationalize the nasty way his stomach feels when he’s around if Hikaru were a bad boyfriend or some spiteful dickhead, but he’s not. Hikaru is one of the nicest people that Shouto has ever met, and he seems to make Izuku so happy. He’s like… the perfect boyfriend for Izuku. 

So Shouto can’t hate him. He can’t even dislike him. 

How can he dislike someone that sends balls of harmless sunlight scattering across the pavement for small children to chase after and play with? How can he dislike someone that goes out of his way to buy an extra shaved ice with no sweet milk on top because he remembers that Shouto doesn’t like it? 

The answer is that he can’t. Hikaru is, all things considered, perfect. Which means that Shouto doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to trying to weasel his way out of hanging out. 

All things considered, the festival is fine. It’s nice and not too busy, and Hikaru and Izuku talk enough that Shouto doesn’t have to force anything. He quietly floats along and makes polite conversation, going through the motions like a well oiled machine. Shouto stays for two hours, and finally decides that he’s stayed long enough to make up for carelessly letting Izuku get injured. 

He’s about to politely explain that he’s “really not feeling well” and that he “really needs to get home before the subways get too crowded with the “after fireworks crowds”, when Hikaru’s phone rings. The blonde steps away to take the call and when he returns he explains that he’s been called away for the evening to take care of a work-related emergency. Which, Shouto is pretty sure that the last time he checked Hikaru worked at a flower shop, so he’s not sure what constitutes an “emergency”. 

“What?” Izuku asks, voice filled with surprise and disappointment. “But it’s your night off…”

“I’m sorry, Zu. I’ve got a huge order to fill for that wedding tomorrow and the bride is being a major bride-zilla.” Hikaru turns to Shouto. He’s got kind eyes, and a gentle smile. 

“I know you said you weren’t feeling well, but Izuku was really looking forward to the fireworks,” he explains. “Any chance you could take my place and stay with him while I’m away?” 

Shouto swallows hard and stares at Hikaru. He isn’t… He can’t be serious. Is he seriously asking Shouto to take over their date? 

Shouto should say no. He should tell Hikaru that he’d love to but it’s not his place, and he should go home and just sleep this whole night off. 

 “Yes,” he says simply.

“Thank you Shouto.” Hikaru smiles and leans in to kiss Izuku gently on the lips.

Shouto forces himself to find something, anything to distract himself. A few feet away he sees a small boy playing excitedly with a water balloon yo-yo. Shouto focuses on the boy, watching as he bounces the fragile red and black toy beneath his hand — pushing it away with force only to watch it bounce back to his palm. 

“I love you,” Izuku says softly, voice low and gentle. Shouto doesn’t reccognize the way Izuku’s voice sounds, he’s never heard Izuku use that tone with him. A tone that isn’t meant for the ears of strangers. It’s a sound reserved only for the two of them. A sound saved for living room cuddles and trays of takeout food, for stolen kisses and intimate phone calls. 

The child bounces the toy faster, each time it returns to his hand with more vigor and momentum. 

“I love you too,” Hikaru says back, in that same syrupy tone of voice. He kisses Izuku again.  

Taking a risk, the boy sends the toy hurtling towards the pavement. When the strained elastic meets the brick and stone, it explodes in a gush — sending broken pieces of red and black plastic in waves over the hot pavement. 

“See you at home?” Hikaru asks softly. Izuku hums, a beautiful sound. 

The child’s eyes well up with tears as he stares at the self-inflicted disaster at his feet, the shriveled remnants of his happiness mortared against the pavement. 

“Only if you ask nicely,” Izuku purrs, the sound of another gross kiss, and — oh god, there’s no way Shouto can stand much more of this. 

“I’ll text you when I get there,” Hikaru promises, pulling himself from Izuku’s embrace. “But I’ve got to go.” 

Izuku pouts, but nods. “Get going, then.” 

“I’ll see you later,” Hikaru says, and then turns to Shouto. “It was really nice seeing you again. We’ve got to do this again sometime when I’m not in the midst of providing the floral arrangements for the Wedding From Hell.” 

Shouto meets Hikaru’s eyes and forces a smile. “It was nice seeing you, too.” 

With a final wave, Hikaru turns and departs toward the subways, leaving Izuku and Shouto alone together. 

They stand and silence and watch Hikaru disappear into the crowd. 

“You should be going soon too,” Izuku says softly, eyes focused on the crowd ahead. There’s a slight edge to his voice, and he keeps it when he says: “I mean, you’re not feeling well, right?” 

Shouto sighs and looks at Izuku for a long, calculating moment. Izuku turns his head to face Shouto and stares back at him. His green eyes are wide and unmoving, looking at Shouto like he can see right through the wall that Shouto had spent so much time building up. 

And then, very subtly, Izuku smiles. Shouto can’t help but smile back.

“It’s okay,” Izuku admits with a sigh. “Really. Thank you for hanging out tonight, even if it made you uncomfortable.” He shifts, strapping a little closer. “I’m still not sure why, but I know that this wasn’t exactly high on your priority list.” 

Shouto huffs, frustrated. “It’s not that, Izuku. I really do like Hikaru,” he explains. He’s tired of being dishonest with Izuku about this. “My problems are… my problems. They have nothing to do with Hikaru. He’s a good guy. I like him.” 

Izuku smiles, relieved. “I’m glad,” he says. “He likes you too.” Izuku begins walking through the festival and Shouto follows. The crowd is growing now as the night gets older. Families with small children excitedly wait for the fireworks and the food vendors’ lines begin to grow with parents hoping to purchase snacks for the viewing. 

They don’t say much more about it. They get cold soba and Izuku gushes over some of the indie Uravity merch he finds at one of the stalls, but mostly, they just hang out. As friends. 

Because that’s what they are. Friends. 

They don’t talk about it again until they’re sitting on a bench, sharing a plate of dumplings between them. Shouto supposes it was wishful thinking to feel like maybe they dropped it. Maybe they could have a normal night without one of the bringing it up again. Because, after a few moments of silence pass between them, Izuku places a hand on Shouto’s thigh and meets his eyes, genuine and beautiful. 

“Look, I know you don’t want to talk about it.” Izuku squeezes Shouto’s thigh and Shouto swallows down the last of the dumpling in his mouth. Izuku’s right. He does not want to talk about it. “I guess that I’m so used to being around you that I forget that you aren’t great around new people, and I’m sorry for that,”  Izuku explains. “I just want everyone to know how great you are and I get selfish.”

“You’re not selfish,” Shouto says quickly. 

Izuku laughs. “Of course you don’t think so.” 

Shouto shifts uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how to say this without blurting out his feelings like an idiot. “Well, because it’s true. You’re not selfish.” 

Izuku doesn’t say anything. He looks out at the passersby, lips moving in that cute way that they do when he’s got something on his mind. Something he wants to say but hasn’t quite worked out how to say it. It’s like Shouto can see the gears of his brain working. 

“Hey,” Izuku says suddenly. “The UA campus is around here.”

Shouto eyes Izuku suspiciously. “Yeah... It is,” he agrees.

“We should go walk through it,” says Izuku, eyes all alight with the excitement of it. “I think that our old ID cards will still grant us access as alumni.” 

“Why would we do that?” Shouto asks. It’s a bad idea. They shouldn’t go walk through their old campus high school. They absolutely should not go back to the place where Shouto’s crush was the strongest, where memories grow like vines of ivy along the outsides of those buildings. 

He knows it’s a bad idea, but there’s just something about Izuku that Shouto can’t say no to. Before he can argue, or think, or process the idea, he’s being led away from the festival and down a painfully familiar street towards his alma mater. 

“To take a trip down memory lane,” Izuku says, like it’s the greatest idea in the world. “Come on, it’ll be fun!’ 

*.*.*.*.*

Izuku is right. Walking through their old UA campus is admittedly pretty fun.The doors to the front of the main building are unlocked and getting inside is surprisingly easy. 

(Which, in retrospect, isn’t that exactly how the USJ attack happened? Poor security? Shouto makes a mental note to send a harshly-worded email about it to Aizawa.) 

“Didn’t this school learn their lesson about security back when we were in school here?” Shouto asks. “I mean, this is shockingly easy for us to break into.” 

“Well, we aren’t technically breaking in,” Izuku explains, examining the lockers in the entryway of the building with mild curiosity. “Besides, I think that most of the security measures are meant to keep out villains and we aren’t villains.” 

“But we’re not students either…” 

Izuku bites his lip and looks away slightly with an expression that screams of a guilty conscience. 

“Izuku, what aren’t you telling me?” Shouto asks, knowing by the way Izuku is bouncing on the balls of his feet that this isn’t a secret Izuku is going to keep to himself. 

Izuku sighs.

“Well if I’m being honest, we probably only got in so easily because All Might made sure that my ID wouldn’t expire. I still come here a lot to visit with him and go over hero stuff.” 

“Ah, I see.” Shouto smirks. “So you just wanted to come here with me .” 

“Okay, you caught me.” Izuku holds his hands up in a mock surrender. “I really wanted to show you something.” 

Shouto’s smirk transforms into a full-on smile and he can’t help but feel excitement as Izuku leads the way through the empty school building. Everything is at once familiar and entirely new — they’ve painted the walls since Shouto’s time here, and the floors have been re-done as well. The smell is still the same though, and Shouto feels a heavy sense of nostalgia as they walk past the old cafeteria. He remembers countless lunches spent together with his best friends. Not just Izuku, but Tenya, Momo, Ochaco… He thinks of how much growing he’d done in this building without even realizing it. He thinks of the boy who’d gone to school here, afraid and alone. He thinks of person he was when he’d graduated, changed forever, confident and accompanied by the best friends in the universe. 

Izuku leads Shouto to the elevators, through the top floor and to a door that Shouto knows leads to the rooftop. 

“Izuku, what are we—”

“Just trust me,” Izuku pushes the door open and hurries up the final flight of stairs to the roof, Shouto follows closely behind. “Best seats to the firework show, courtesy of Izuku Midoriya.” He makes a cute little noise, clearly proud of himself. 

The air on the roof is warm, and there’s a breeze blowing through. Izuku rushes ahead to the chain link fence. 

“I wonder if you can see… Oh, yes! It’s right there,” Izuku says, excitement in his voice. “Come here, look.” 

As Shouto approaches the fence, he can’t help but gape at the view. From up here, they can see the entire sector of the city. The lights from the buildings twinkle and shine brightly below them from all around. It’s breathtaking. 

Izuku is staring at something, off in the not-too-far distance. Shouto moves closer and tries to trace his line of sight, and that’s when he sees it. Big, dark, and distant. Shouto’s never seen it from this angle, but it doesn't stop the memories from flooding back. 

“Is that...?” Shouto asks, his voice hushed. 

“It is,” Izuku responds gently. ”That’s the arena from our first sports festival.” He looks straight ahead with a smile on his face. His eyes shine in the moonlight and glisten with the reflection of the city below them. “Where we became friends.” 

Shout is quiet. He knows that Izuku wants him to look at the stadium, but he’s...distracted, by the person beside him. Izuku is so close that Shouto can see every single one of his freckles, peppered across his face, trailing down his neck and under his neckline. Beautiful, perfect in their imperfection. Impossible to chart — stars in an endless sky. 

“Who would have thought that we would be as close as we are now?” Izuku asks quietly. He slowly pulls his eyes from the stadium and meets Shouto’s. “That we’d end up saving each other's lives too many times to count.”

Shouto feels his chest tighten as guilt seeps in through the cracks in his heart. He’d let Izuku get hurt. He’d been careless, irresponsible, and reckless. Because of him, Izuku had been shot. With a heavy lump in his throat, Shouto remembers the way Izuku’s blood felt on his hands. The way Izuku’s staggered breathing had sounded in his ears. 

He shudders at the thought. 

“Or that I’d let you get shot out of carelessness,” he mumbles. Izuku turns to face him and Shouto tires to laugh, tries to pass it off as a joke, but Izuku sees right through him.

Izuku looks at Shouto with a sad expression, and then turns to look back out at the city. “Don’t think like that Shouto,” he whispers. “You’re always so negative. I’m fine ,”

“You have a scar.”

“I’m a pro hero. Of course I have scars,” Izuku says a little louder. He holds out his hand, crisscross, jagged scars from that first fight still shine silver in the moonlight. A constant reminder of the person Shouto used to be, the person he wishes he could forget. “You need to learn to forgive yourself, Shouto. Because of us, that villain was taken into custody. Because of us, so many villains are in custody.” Shouto watches as Izuku takes a slow and steady breath. “We save people, Shouto,” he says firmly. 

Shouto’s breath catches. His eyes burn, just a little. Yeah, Izuku Midoriya saves people. He saved Katsuki with his quick thinking back in Kamino. He saved that little kid during the training camp. He saved Eri, and Aizawa, and—

“You saved me,” Shouto says simply. 

“I didn’t save you,” Izuku laughs. “I almost killed you.”

Shouto can’t help but smile at the memory. “Cementoss had to intervene.” 

“Midnight too.” Izuku starts laughing, and Shouto can’t help but laugh too. It’s funny now, how reckless they were. 

Shouto keeps smiling. “We really were troublesome, weren’t we?”

“Mirio always did refer to me as the ‘problem child of UA’. It wasn’t really a joke.” 

Izuku and Shouto take a moment to revel in the nostalgia of it all. Shouto thinks absently about the festival below them that they’d left behind, of the fireworks that will soon be filling the sky. 

“Hey,” Izuku says fondly, pointing out into the distance. “There’s that tree that you almost set on fire our second year.” 

Shouto freezes. The tree. 

The cherry blossom tree that he’d almost lit ablaze during their second year in UA because of a petty bet that he had with Bakugo. 

The tree that Izuku had asked Shouto to meet him under. Where Shouto never arrived. 

“Yeah,” Shouto says dryly, the words of the letter swirling and haunting his memory. He swallows hard. “It’s where you asked me to meet you. After graduation.”

Izuku goes still, his eyes go wide in surprise. He looks at Shouto like he’s just said something shocking, and then the shock fades to hurt. 

“Why would you bring that up?” Izuku asks, and Shouto can feel the pain in his voice. 

Which. Fuck. Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to say. 

“Izuku,” Shouto starts. 

“If you’re trying to make a joke, it’s really not funny.” Izuku’s voice is cold, stark in an uncharacteristic way.  

Alright, it was definitely the wrong thing to say. 

“I’m not,”  Shouto assures him, halfway tempted to activate his left side in an attempt to thaw the icy look that Izuku is giving him. “I swear, I would never make fun of you for that. I just found the letter that you wrote me a week ago,” he explains, figuring it’s better to be honest. “Momo and I were cleaning out my apartment and I found it in a box of my old things.”

Izuku regards him carefully for a moment, and then softens. He sighs and his blush spreads to his ears. 

“I knew it was a bad idea to put it in your textbook,” he mumbles. “Remind me to tell Ochako ‘I told you so ’.” 

“I’m sorry,” Shouto says, uncomfortable. He shouldn’t have said anything. 

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not a big deal,” Izuku assures him. 

Shouto should drop it there. He knows he should drop it. But before he can stop himself, he’s talking again: “I didn’t know how you felt about me.” 

Izuku laughs softly, “Well, how could you have? I never told you. It doesn’t matter now, though.”  He glances back out towards the tree. “It was just the unrequited feelings of a high school boy.”

“They weren’t—” Shouto says, and he knows he should shut the fuck up , but he can’t. “They weren’t unrequited.”

Izuku stares at him. “What do you mean?”

Shouto takes a deep breath. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up— 

“I mean...If I had found the note in high school like you intended…” Shouto begins, and just like that the levee breaks and the words are pouring out of him before he can stop himself. 

“Shouto…”

Somewhere to Shouto’s right, a firework ignites in the sky. The resounding boom echoes around them and shakes Shouto to his core. 

“I’d have met you,” he spouts, words scattering around them like sparks.  “Under the tree that is.”

Another firework ignites, and Izuku’s face illuminates in shades of red and orange. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

Shouto’s heart is practically exploding in his chest. The sky lights up again and color and sound blind his senses, and he lunges forward - grabbing Izuku tightly and pulling him in close, mashing their lips together in a burst of raw emotion. Something inside of him denotates the moment their lips touch and suddenly Shouto is alight and warm and everything just feels fucking right . He pulls Izuku even closer and o h my god, Izuku is kissing him back , and exaltation sparks through him as their tongues touch through open lips. 

Another firework shakes the chain link fence, but Shouto barely notices. His body rumbles from the aftershock but he doesn’t care, he can’t possibly care, because Izuku is in his arms and he’s moving with him and oh god -- Shouto freezes. With a flood of horror, he realizes that, oh fuck , Izuku is struggling . 

He lets go of Izuku who stumbles backwards. His face is bright red, and his lips are wet and raw, and he looks mortified. With a trembling hand and look of disbelief, Izuku touches his lips. 

“What the hell , Shouto?” he shouts over the boom of the fireworks. 

“Izuku, oh god— ” He takes a step towards Izuku, but Izuku backs away. 

“I-I have a boyfriend! You can’t just...You can’t just kiss me!”

“I’m so sorry, Izuku, I’m so—”

“No,” Izuku says loudly. “ No . I waited for you, I waited for you under that tree for three hours and you didn’t come and you decide to kiss me now ?” Izuku is crying. He’s crying and the fireworks are so loud that Shouto can’t think straight. 

Shouto tries to speak, tries to apologize, but he’s drowned out by another deafening explosion. 

“I...I have to go.” Izuku backs away from him slowly. He doesn’t stop staring at Shouto, hurt and betrayal and — fuck, hatred— on his face. “Goodbye Shouto.”

Shouto watches him go in flashing bold shades of red.

The next morning, Shouto resigns from his hero agency. 

*.*.*.*.*

“You can’t avoid him forever.” Momo sets her mug down on Shouto’s coffee table carefully, her gaze glued to him with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. She’s considering him thoughtfully as if trying to decide the best thing to say next, but not regretting bringing the topic up in the first place. 

Shouto sighs, taking a sip of his scalding hot tea. He winces, and then glares at his friend. “Momo, I said I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“Yes,” she agrees, “but that was two months ago. I’ve given you time to get over it. I was patient with you, but now you need to talk to me.” 

“I don’t need to do anything,” Shouto says a little too coldly. He doesn’t mean to be rude, but: “It isn’t worth talking about.” 

She clicks her tongue. “We both know that’s not true.” 

“Izuku and I had a falling out.” Shouto shrugs. “There isn’t any more to it than that.” 

Momo crosses her arms and leans back in Shouto’s leather wing chair. “Right,” she muses. “A falling out so bad that you quit your hero agency and got a job with Bakugou — who, might I remind you, you hate .” 

“I don’t hate Bakugo.” Shouto frowns. “I just think he’s a bit much.” 

“Mmm, yeah, okay,” Momo mumbles sarcastically. “But that’s not the problem here. The problem—” she sighs, bouncing her foot impatiently, “—is that you quit your job because of whatever falling out you two had, and you’re refusing to talk to me about it. You’re refusing to talk to anyone about it.” 

“Because there’s nothing to talk about!” Shouto insists. 

“Give it up, Icy Hot. You know she isn’t going to leave it alone until you talk to her.” Kyouka comes into the living room from the kitchen holding a plate of colorful macarons and a steaming mug of ginseng tea. She raises her eyebrows at Shouto, smirking. 

Shouto winces. “Please don’t call me that. It’s bad enough that I have to hear it at work.” 

Kyouka shrugs. “Sorry, it’s just catchy.” 

“She’s right though,” Momo presses, taking a lavender macaron from the plate. “I’m not leaving until you stop with this emotionally closed off nonsense and talk to me. I know you’re not doing well, despite how well you think you can hide it from me.” 

“I’m fine. I don’t know what you’re—“

“Shouto, dude,” Kyouka cuts in, “the last time I’ve seen a stack of finished nonogram puzzles as high as the one on your kitchen counter was when Endeavor came for parents weekend in our second year.” 

Shouto bites the inside of his cheek. Damn. He was sure he’d remembered to recycle those papers.

“Okay,” Shouto admits with a sigh.“Maybe I’m not as well adjusted as I thought.” 

Kyouka smirks with victory and Momo looks even more concerned than before. They two of them look at eachother and Shouto knows that they’re talking about him with their weird mind-reading powers. Talking about him. About what an idiot he is. 

“Shouto,” Momo says softly. “What happened?” 

Shouto rubs his temples and tries his best to put his feelings into words. He’s never been good at this. He’s never been good at explaining why he feels hurt or upset or ashamed , and right now he’s feeling all of those things. 

“I went to that festival with Izuku and his boyfriend.”

“Oof, awkward,” Kyouka blurts out. She sips her tea loudly as Shouto shoots her an annoyed glare.

“Well, yeah,” Shouto admits, and breathes heavily. “It was. Until he left.” He grabs a cookie from the tray and holds it, just for something to fidget with. “His boyfriend, that is. He had to leave and it was just Izuku and me. He got it in his head that we should walk through the old UA campus. Something about wanting to take a walk down memory lane. He took me up to the roof and from there we could see half of the city — the arena, the dorm buildings, that cherry blossom tree…”

“The one from the secret love note?” Kyouka asks loudly. 

Shouto pauses and looks at Momo who puts her hands up defensively. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I’ve told you before that I tell Kyouka everything. You can trust her,” Momo promises. “I wouldn’t have brought her over here if I didn’t think she could help.” 

“It’s a lesbian thing.” Kyouka shrugs. “Don’t take it too personally. We practically share a brain.” Kyouka winks at her girlfriend and grabs another macaron from the plate. She doesn’t hesitate before shoving the entire thing in her mouth. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works,” Momo laughs. She gives Kyouka a loving look, and then pulls her attention away to go back to listening to Shouto. “Anyway, yes. The one from the love letter that Shouto and I found.”

“Right,” Shouto continues. “I don’t know. Something about being there with him, seeing that tree, it just made me think of that note and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and then I kissed him and—“ 

“Wait, what ?” 

“You kissed him?” 

Shouto covers his face with his hands. “Yes.” 

“Shouto…” Momo eyes are wide and her jaw slack. She glances to Kyouka who is sitting on the ottoman and leaning forward in disbelief. 

“To be honest I didn’t think that you had the balls to do something like that.” Kyouka grabs another cookie, but doesn’t eat it. She twirls it around absently in her hand, eyes glued to Shouto. 

“And he was completely freaked out.” Shouto can’t hide the strain in his voice. “He was angry. And then he left. And I just stayed there for a while feeling horrible about myself.”

The room is quiet for a moment. No one says a word, and Shouto can practically reach out and touch the judgement that’s being passed between the two women. He slowly removes his hands from his face and looks between them, surprised to see that they look sad rather than angry. 

“And then you resigned.” It’s not a question. Momo slowly pieces together the rest of the story. She’s known Shouto long enough to understand exactly why he left the agency and exactly why he really didn’t want to talk about this. 

“I didn’t have a choice. He was so angry at me. I didn’t want to make him have to be around me at work - it was my fault. I’m the one that kissed him .” 

Momo considers him for a moment, thinking carefully. “But Shouto, have you talked to him about any of this?”

She asks the question gently. She places it softly on the table between them. 

“No. There isn’t anything to talk about,” Shouto explains miserably. “He has a boyfriend and I kissed him anyway.” 

“But that’s exactly why you should talk to him,” Momo presses. “Has he tried to contact you?” 

“Yes,” Shouto says quickly, and then: “No. I mean, sort of? He called me almost every day last month but stopped recently. And he texts me. Probably.” 

“Probably?”

“I muted his conversation,” Shouto admits. Momo and Kyouka look at him like they want to reach across the coffee table and strangle him. “I don’t know what to say to him.” 

“Shouto if he’s trying to contact you, it probably means that he wants to talk to you,” Momo stresses, voice getting louder and more insistent. 

“Yeah so he can tell me off for kissing him.” 

“I don’t think that’s the case. I really, really don’t.” 

“Jeez for someone as smart as you are, you’re pretty dumb when it comes to relationships.” Kyouka places her mug on the table with a little too much force. “Look, if he’s calling you it’s because he wants to talk to you. You guys are best friends, and you owe it to him to not just blow him off because you made a mistake. Izuku Midoriya is the most understanding person that I know, and I’m sure that if you just explained yourself and freaking apologized like an adult, that you guys could go back to exactly how things were.” 

Shouto doesn’t say anything. He stares at Kyouka with wide eyes and considers each of her words like it’s a piece of fruit in the produce aisle. He picks them up one by one and considers them from all angles, looking for imperfections or bruises. 

And he finds one, of course, he always does. She’s right, he knows that she is, but there’s a problem. And it sticks out to him, a clear black blemish soiling an otherwise perfectly healthy proposal. 

“You don’t...” Momo says slowly, realization dawning on her as she watches Shouto’s expression shift. “You don’t want things to go back to the way they were.” 

There it is . 

“No,” Shouto confesses. “No I don’t.” 

Kyouka narrows her eyes suspiciously. 

“Well in that case, you need to make yourself clear ,” she says simply. “But I don’t think it’s worth throwing your friendship away for. Just tell him straight up: ‘hey , I’m crazy stupid in love with you and I want you to know that even if it makes staying friends harder’. Which,” she continues, “even if he doesn’t say what you want him to, I’m sure that he won’t be angry with you for being honest. If he was angry when you kissed him, which by the way I think that you’re probably misreading surprise and confusion for anger - it was just because you caught him off guard. But you won’t know any of that until you talk to him .” 

There’s a pause, a heartbeat — while she waits for her words to sink in. 

“I know he’s worried about you,” she says, tone quieter, softer in the wake of her point being made. “Ochako hasn’t stopped bothering me about it at work.” 

“Why you?”

“Well she knows that you and Momo are really close, so she figures that I’d know what’s up. I mean, she’s right , but I’m not going to tell her any of this so don’t worry.” She bites into the cookie into her hand, speaking through each chew. “But just know that Izuku told her that something happened between you guys and she’s just as concerned as we are. He’s being cryptic about it too though so she doesn’t know what exactly went down.”

“Thank you Kyouka,” Shouto says softly, and he means it. 

“Don’t mention it. You and Izuku are two of my favorite people and I hate to see you guys not talking to one another. You have to remember:” Kyouka’s eyes focus in on Shouto’s, “You’re not the only person that Izuku saved when he was in high school.” 

“It’s true,” Momo says, finishing the last of her tea. “In a way, we all sort of owe him for what he did for us.” 

“But if you tried telling him that he’d never understand. He was just being himself.” Shouto smiles, thinking back to his high school days. He remembers the sports festival from their first year, the hatred he’d felt towards his father, how blind he’d been to the dream inside of him. He remembers feeling so lost and alone and —

“But that’s what you love about him isn’t it?” Momo whispers.

He remembers the way Izuku’s voice strained and cracked as he shouted across the stadium —

"It’s yours! It’s your quirk, not his!"

“Yeah.” Shout agrees. “It is.” 

Shouto decides that his friends are right. He knows that he can’t avoid Izuku forever, and he knows that he needs to talk to him about what happened. He just needs to find the right words to say. 

He decides to call Izuku tomorrow. 

*.*.*.*.*

Shouto can’t sleep. He isn’t sure if it’s because he’d made a major decision to face his biggest anxiety today or if it’s because of the earth-shattering thunderstorm that’s rolling by outside of his apartment. 

Whatever the cause, Shouto gives up trying to will himself asleep and decides to make himself a cup of non-caffeinated tea to soothe his nerves. He’s sitting in his kitchen, reading the nutrition label on a box of butter cookies that Kyouka had left, when he hears the unmistakable sound of something gently thumping against wood. At first, he assumes that it’s debris from the storm, but when he hears it a second time and a third time, he decides to investigate. 

As he enters into the hallway, his suspicions are confirmed. There is definitely someone knocking on his door. He isn’t wearing a shirt, so on his way to answer the door he pulls a zip up hoodie from his hall closet to put on. 

Who the hell is knocking at his door at midnight in the middle of a monsoon? 

He pulls the door open, quirk at the ready in case it’s some crazy person here to murder him, and freezes the moment he sees Izuku standing there. 

Izuku is soaking wet. His usually tidy curls are a mess on his head. His dark blue plaid shirt clings tightly to his arms in sopping wet wads of wrinkled fabric, his black tee melded to his chest, possessively hugging Izuku’s muscles. The look Izuku is giving Shouto is harsh, defeated, and… angry?

 From behind him on the balcony, lightning shoots across the sky and thunder shakes the cement foundation of his building. 

“Um,” Shouto manages. Everything else dies in his throat. 

“Hey,” Izuku says miserably. “Can I come in?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer. He pushes past Shouto into the apartment. He kicks off his untied mud-stained red chucks and walks with slippery wet socks into Shouto’s living room. 

“Hey,” Shouto protests, closing the door a little too roughly behind him. “What the—”

Izuku ignores him and makes his way into the apartment.

“Hey,” Shouto repeats, following Izuku into the living room. “You’re soaking wet!” Then, continuing to point out the obvious: “What are you — did you walk here?” 

Izuku slumps into Shouto’s leather wing-chair, folding his hands together and placing them delicately beneath his nostrils. His eyes focus upwards onto Shouto who stands awkwardly in the archway between the livingroom and his apartment’s hallway. In the dim lighting of Shouto’s floor lamp, Shouto can see the ruptured blood vessels of Izuku’s eyes, contrasting heavily with the dark purple shadows of sleep deprivation beneath them. Had he been crying?

Izuku is quiet, eyes unblinking, hands clasped tightly together, as if waiting for Shouto to say something. 

Any anger or frustration that Shouto might have felt about Izuku galavanting into his apartment at — he checks the clock on the shelf — god - two thirty in the morning , leaves him the moment their eyes meet. Shouto has known Izuku for a long time and he’s seen a lot of different looks in those eyes. It only takes one second of eye contact for Shouto to sense it. He knows that something is wrong. 

“Are you okay?” Shouto asks, defensive guard deflating like a balloon. 

Izuku says nothing. Droplets of rain fall from his curls and land with silent splatters onto Izuku’s hands. 

“A-Are you…” Shouto starts and fails to finish. He swallows hard, mouth going try and suddenly tasting like sour milk. “What’re you—”

“Did you block my number?” Izuku’s voice is stark, but not accusatory. He presents the question as if stating a fact — not looking for an answer that he already knows. 

Shouto sighs and crosses the room to sit on the couch across from Izuku. He doesn’t say anything at first, considering his words carefully. 

“Izuku, look,” he begins, eyes focusing on an unfinished crossword puzzle flayed open on the coffee table. “I’m sorry—”

“About what?” Izuku cuts in, yanking his hands away and slapping them against his wet jeans. “About kissing me at the festival? About quitting the agency without even talking to me? About ignoring me for two months and telling everyone that we know not to talk about you around me?” 

Shouto’s stomach somersaults and a massive lump forms in his throat. Izuku’s bloodshot eyes narrow in anger and hurt. 

“Or are you sorry about some stupid letter that you found from high school and some crush that you never acted on costing you your relationship with your best friend ?”

“Izuku…” Small puddles of water pool on the leather arm of the chair.“I—” 

“Ya know what? No. Don’t answer that.” Izuku shakes his head and slides his hands into his hair, sending another air raid of water pelting down towards the floor. “Don’t...Don’t answer that. That’s not why I’m here, that’s not…” Izuku lets out a choked noise and exhales through his nose. “That’s not why I came here like a crazy person in the middle of the night,” he says after a moment. 

“Then why did you come here?” Shouto’s voice is quiet, nearly drowned out by the pounding of his heart and the rain outside the window. 

Izuku stares at Shouto, and Shouto counts the seconds that drag by in the freckles on the other man’s face. 

“Hikaru proposed to me.” The words rumble and shake Shouto’s apartment, seismic energy rattling the walls and shattering the building apart brick by brick. 

Shouto crumbles down with it. His bones collapsing with thunderous abandon, piling like pointless rubble as the rain continues to fall all around him. The droplets slam against his skin, burning holes into his flesh. 

Shouto says nothing.

Did Izuku really come here in the middle of the night in the pouring rain to brag about his engagement? Had he really been that upset with Shouto for kissing him? 

No. That can’t be it. 

This was Izuku’s way of telling Shouto that he’d moved on. Of telling Shouto that there was no way things would work out between them, and that he’d found happiness. 

Good, Shouto thinks, it’ll be easier this way. 

“Congratulations,” Shouto says instinctively, his voice metallic. 

Izuku stares back at him. His dark eyes study Shouto’s face, looking for something — a sign, maybe, that Shouto understands. Finally, Izuku sighs loudly and leans back in his chair, eyes drifting shut.  

“I said no.” 

The rain falls louder.

“What?” Shouto asks, his heartbeat still. 

“I said no,” Izuku repeats. 

“Y-you—” Shouto stutters. “But why?” 

“Because…” Izuku opens his eyes and stares at Shouto again, looking for something that Shouto doesn’t know how to give him. “Because despite Hikaru being everything that I’ve ever wanted, when he asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, all I could think of was you .” 

Shouto can’t speak, he can’t fucking move , and he feels like his left side is about to burst into flames at any moment. His heart jackhammers in his chest. 

Is this really happening?

“And the worst part is, I spent years trying to get over you. I spent so much time getting used to being around you and just being your friend and keeping things from being weird between us. I dated people. I slept with people. I was so sure that I was over you.” Izuku sighs, air leaving his lungs in one long gust. “And then you kissed me.” 

“Izuku…” 

“And I realized that I was an idiot. I was never over you. Not even for a second .” 

Shouto wants to cry and scream and explode all at the same time. This isn’t happening. There’s no way this is actually happening. 

“I know that it’s probably crazy for me to be here. But two months ago, I would have thought that you liking me back or… or kissing me was crazy, but it happened. And then you ignored me and I didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know what to think so I tried to give you space and then tonight Hikaru asked me to marry him and I just…I couldn’t say yes. Because in the back of my head I was waiting until I could see you again and talk about what happened. Because…” Izuku leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees, face resting in his palms, so close to Shouto. “Because I’m in love with you Shouto. I think I always have been.” 

Shouto knows that he needs to say something but god, words are so hard and what the hell is he supposed to say to that? 

How many nights had he spent thinking about Izuku over the last two months? How many nights had he spent thinking of Izuku over the last five years ? And now Izuku is here in his living room confessing his love to Shouto and acting like Shouto is the one with the ball in his court, acting like he doesn’t already have Shouto’s heart in the palm of his hand, acting like he hasn’t always had Shouto’s entire fucking being in the palm of his hand. 

He doesn't know how to process the fact that Izuku is acting like Shouto’s the one in control. The only thing that Shouto knows, the only thing he’s ever really known is that he’s only loved one person in his entire life and that person is Izuku Midoriya.

“So, I need you to tell me Shouto,” Izuku says quietly, eyes intense and bright as the moon. “Am I crazy for thinking that there's even a chance that you feel the same way about me?” 

Shouto swallows and oh god, he’s going to puke. He wants to speak, he wants to tell Izuku that, yes, god, of course I feel the same way about you - I’m yours, I’ve always been yours , but the words won’t come out. His lips part and his heart thunders and before he can make up his mind he’s moving forward and gripping the arms of the damp leather of the wing chair, his eyes slam shut and he presses his lips against Izuku’s and holy shit he’s going to burn a hole into the upholstery. 

But Izuku’s hands move like lightning, cupping Shouto’s face and pulling him closer, moving to his hair, fingers digging deep into Shouto’s scalp. Izuku kisses him back desperately, swallowing him whole with every brush of their tongues and clash of their lips. He lets out a low groan that has Shouto unraveling at the seams, and they push and pull one another with too much force, years of sexual tension and unspoken feelings spilling out between them in a fire and lightning storm of damp fabric and shaking hands. 

“So,” Izuku breathes between kisses. “I take it I’m not crazy then?” 

“Oh no,” Shouto corrects him, pulling away slightly and adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. He slides his legs onto the chair on either side of Izuku, straddling his waist. “You are. Certifiably insane, actually.” 

Izuku frowns and places a hand at the small of Shouto’s back. 

“Izuku. You walked here. In the rain . At two in the morning .” 

“I took the subway,” Izuku says, a teasing smile on his lips. “But you live really far away from the stop and it’s literally pouring.” 

“You could have waited until tomorrow. I was going to call you tomorrow.” Shouto touches the sharp line of Izuku’s jaw with his fingertips. 

“I don’t know if I could have made it until tomorrow. It’s been a very strange twenty four hours.” Izuku grasps Shouto’s hand and gently kisses the back of it. “I almost had a fiancé, and now I’m in your apartment and you’re sitting on my lap.”

“How did Hikaru take it?” 

“Well, it could have been worse, I guess.” Izuku says wearily. “But it also could have been like, a thousand times better.” Izuku shifts, looking away guiltily. “In his defense though, I’ve spent the better part of two years assuring him that there’s nothing between us. So when I handed the ring back to him and said that I couldn’t do it because I was in love with you, he got understandably really, really angry.” 

Shouto is quiet. He tries to think about how he would feel if he were in Hikaru’s shoes. Hikaru loves Izuku, just as Shouto does. He’d gotten to touch Izuku, hold him, kiss him. He’d had Izuku, and when he tried to make Izuku his forever, Izuku said no . 

“Which leads me to my uh...next question…” Izuku laughs awkwardly. “Could I stay the night? I sort of stormed out of the apartment and made a beeline here and uh, I don’t think Hikaru would be too happy if I came back tonight.” 

“Of course.” Shouto agrees. “You could sleep um.” He swallows nervously, “In my bed if you want?”

Izuku smiles at him. “I mean, I’d love that,” he says. “But maybe...maybe not tonight. I don’t want to rush things.” 

Shouto understands, and he doesn’t push Izuku. Instead, he sets Izuku up on the couch with his spare blankets and sofa pillows. Shouto makes Izuku a cup of tea and gives him a clean pair of pajamas to wear (although, even Shouto’s biggest pair of pajama pants barely stretch past Izuku’s ankles).  Shouto starts to head to his bedroom when Izuku’s hand reaches out and grabs Shouto’s arm. 

Shouto pauses and meets Izuku’s gaze, shivers crawling their way down his spine. Izuku is looking at him with his sickeningly gorgeous eyes and the look of longing on his face. Shouto practically melts. 

“You could...stay out here?” Izuku asks, tightening his grip. “We could watch bad TV and just...hang out? Slumber party style?” 

A smile stretches across Shouto’s face. “Alright,” Shouto agrees. 

They spend the night wrapped in blankets in the effervescent glow of the television screen. Shouto isn’t sure which of them falls asleep first, but when he wakes up to the harsh morning sunlight on his face, they’re holding hands.

Chapter Text

Izuku tries to be quiet as he opens the door to his apartment — handle clutched tightly beneath a still and steady hand, shoes slipped off in the threshold, socks muffled against the hardwood floor. He’s hoping that if he can just get inside without being noticed, he can get to the bathroom and treat his wound before his very caring but “prone to over reactions” boyfriend can freak out. 

The gunshot wound had mostly healed with the help of the medical quirks on the scene and he was given orders to go straight home and rest to avoid irritating the injury any further. He had fully intended on listening to the EMT, but being a hero doesn’t always make it easy to be safe. On the way home, Izuku had taken a detour that had... complicated the matter a little. 

In his defense, the EMT hadn’t said anything about what to do if he saw a woman being mugged on his way home. Was Izuku supposed to just walk away? He hadn’t become a hero so that he could abandon people in their time of need. Besides, it was fine, the wound wasn’t even that bad. Izuku’s had worse in his time, so it really wasn’t a big deal. 

Plus, he’d managed to stop the mugger in the process and the woman he helped gave him a free chocolate bar! So really, it was a win-win. 

He just hadn’t been counting on the mugger’s limb extension quirk. And he hadn’t been counting on not being able to dodge in enough time due to his pre-existing injury which allowed the mugger to hit him in exactly where the bullet had gone through his body an hour earlier and — yeah, okay. Maybe it was a little less than fine. 

Now he’s bleeding profusely through his civies, fresh hot blood dripping down past his waist, under the elastic band of his joggers.

Really though,  it isn’t a big deal.  It barely even hurts. If Izuku has to guess without looking at it, it’s probably just a small rupture that looks a lot worse than it feels.

He just needs to get into the bathroom and get it cleaned up before Hikaru sees him and makes a big deal out of nothing. Hikaru doesn’t need to know how close Izuku had come to not making it home today. He doesn’t need to know that Izuku had a bullet pass through his body, that if the bullet had been just a few inches higher it might have blown a hole through one of Izuku’s vital organs. 

Izuku doesn’t like to think about it. So he doesn’t think about it. 

Or, well. He tries not to. 

But if Hikaru sees him like this then he’ll have to think about it and talk about it and he really doesn’t need another lecture about how he needs to be more careful in the line of duty. Hero work is dangerous, and Izuku knows the risks that come with every mission. 

When he’d seen the villain holding the gun and pointing it directly at Shouto, he didn’t hesitate. It was like a slow motion scene in an action movie — the trigger had been pulled and the ear-splitting crack of the bullet being released made everything around Izuku just sort of… stop. 

It was like time had slowed down, collapsed in on itself. When the gun fired, Izuku felt his soul leave his body. 

No, he had practically screamed in his head, not him. 

Kill me instead.  

He knew that jumping in front of Shouto and shoving him out of the way would mean that he’d be hit. He knew there was no way to possibly know if the bullet would hit his arm or his shoulder or his heart, but it didn’t matter because it had to be his arm or shoulder or heart and not Shouto’s. 

The fact that it had managed to miss any of his organs was an honest-to-god miracle. Izuku had jumped in there knowing what could happen to him, but none of that mattered. In the same way that it had done many times before, Izuku’s body just moved on its own. Sure, he managed to survive but… The very real truth of it all is that he could have died today. 

But that risk is part of what it means to be a hero. 

He manages to get into the bathroom somewhat miraculously, without Hikaru noticing that he’s home. He sheds off his mustard-colored civilian tee (stained a gnarly shade of dark red in splotches that are still wet to the touch), and inspects his wound. 

As he’d suspected, it’s fine. The healer that had helped him had aged the wound and sped up the healing process. What’s left is a pretty ugly scab that had been disturbed when the mugger had punched him. The scab bled, but there was no real cause for concern. It was a lot of fuss over such a small problem. 

Izuku removes the rest of his clothes and turns on the bath. He’ll feel much better once he’s able to wash the blood off. Before stepping in, he pours some hydrogen peroxide over the blood stain on his shirt, hiding the evidence for good measure. Upon contact, the clear liquid hisses and bubbles against the fabric. In seconds the red stain is engulfed with white, and Izuku counts to ten. 

One . 

He really hates hiding things like this from Hikaru.

Two .

But he wouldn’t have to if Hikaru didn’t make such a big deal out of it. 

Three .

Hikaru doesn’t understand hero work. He doesn’t know how much sacrifice and work goes into every day of Izuku’s life.

Four .

But maybe that’s what Izuku likes so much about him. 

Five .

Hikaru’s not a hero. Izuku knows that he doesn’t have to worry about Hikaru coming home from the flower shop below their apartment on a daily basis. He’s safe. 

Six .

Which is also why Izuku knows that things wouldn’t ever work out with Shouto. They’re both heroes and it would be so much worry every day; wondering if he’d come home, knowing the danger that he’d face while fighting villains. Izuku isn’t sure if he could handle the stress.

Seven .

Whoa, why is he thinking about dating Shouto? That ship has sailed. Okay brain, stop being weird. 

Eight . 

It’s probably just because today was so crazy. Shouto had almost died . 

Nine .

Izuku doesn’t like to think about how he’d feel if Shouto died. He doesn’t like to admit how often he checks the news for fallen heroes, how he scans articles for names of his UA classmates, how part of his routine every single day is to wake up and immediately check his phone for overnight tragedy stories. To brace himself for the possibility of the inevitable. 

Hikaru tells him it’s obsessive compulsive behavior. 

Ten . 

Izuku knows that Hikaru doesn’t mean to hurt his feelings by telling him that, but it still hurts. Izuku knows it’s compulsive. He knows that worrying never does anyone any good. He knows that. 

He just can’t convince himself to stop. 

Once the ten seconds are up, Izuku presses a dry towel to the white fizzy puddle on his shirt. He holds it there for a moment and wipes it away, revealing a wet but no-longer-stained tee shirt. 

Good as new. Now no one needs to talk about the dangers of jumping in front of a bullet to save your best friend. Everything is exactly as it should be. 

The bath feels good. Steam rises from the hot water and clouds the mirrors in the bathroom, sweet-smelling and nearly intoxicating from the salts and oils Izuku added to the tub. Izuku washes his hair and soaks his fingernails to get the remainder of the blood out from underneath them. 

He’s pulling the drain when Hikaru knocks on the door. The gentle sound is barely audible, soft knuckles against hardwood. 

“Zu?” Hikaru’s voice is as delicate as his knock. “Are you in there?” 

Izuku steps out of the tub and grabs a freshly-cleaned towel from the shelf. He dries himself off lazily before wrapping it around his waist. 

“Yeah,” he responds, grabbing a smaller towel and using it to tussle the hair on his head. He presses down with his nails through the plush fabrics and massages his scalp. When he removes it his hair is a crazy mess of fluffy green curls. “I’ll be right out!”

Izuku pulls back on his shirt and grabs a pair of not-so-dirty pajamas from the hamper. When he thinks he looks presentable enough, he decides to face his boyfriend. 

Izuku opens the door and Hikaru is waiting for him. He's in his work clothes; a pale-green button up with dark brown pants. His sunflower-blonde hair is pulled back in a short ponytail, his glasses sit loosely on his nose, where a smudge of dirt stands out amongst the freckles on his face. When Hikaru sees Izuku, he smiles. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Hikaru says sweetly, standing on his toes to kiss Izuku’s cheek. “I’ve got a crazy order for this weekend and things have been chaotic in the shop.” 

“Oh, it’s okay,” Izuku says gently. He doesn’t mention that he’s thankful he arrived home first. He doesn’t mention the blood or his desperate scramble towards the bathroom to hide the evidence of his day. “I only got home like, half an hour ago. I just wanted to take a bath to get the smell of sweat out of my hair.” 

Hikaru’s mouth curls into an even bigger smile and he leans in to plant a playful kiss on Izuku’s neck. 

“Aw,” he teases, hands tugging gently on the hem of Izuku’s shirt. He slips his hands under, fingers ghosting over Izuku’s bare skin. “I like it when you’re sweaty.” 

“Oh my god, ” Izuku laughs, but he can’t ignore the chill that runs down his spine at his lover’s touch. Hikaru’s hands are rough and calloused from too much gardening, but when they run along Izuku’s arms, they’re gentle and soft. 

Izuku pulls Hikaru closer by the hips and Hikaru purrs in excitement. The blonde melts into him, planting hungry kisses that trail along Izuku’s neck, up to the sharp curve of his jaw. His hands move to Izuku’s chest, greedy fingers taking their time admiring the definition of Izuku’s abs, playfully trailing along the dips and curves of Izuku’s body, the careless familiarity functioning as even more of a turn on. He’s pressing himself harder against Izuku, hands reaching lower, lower, lower until— 

Hikaru freezes. “Izuku?” 

Shit. Izuku closes his eyes and presses his mouth into a firm line. “Y-Yeah?” 

“What is this?” Hikaru pulls away from Izuku, but keeps his hand pressed lightly against the blueberry-sized scab that sits just above Izuku’s hip. He’s frowning, face flushed and eyes still slightly glazed — coming down from the high they’d both just been experiencing. 

“What?” Izuku asks, grasping Hikaru’s hand on instinct and pulling it away. Playing dumb isn’t going to work but he hopes it will at least buy him enough time to figure out what to say. 

“What happened to you?” Hikaru asks. His words are as gentle as his touch, which hovers gently over the scab. He looks concerned, which, of course he’s concerned about the hole in Izuku’s skin. What kind of partner would he be if he wasn’t? 

Izuku is thankful that Hikaru is worried about him, he just… 

Doesn’t want to deal with this right now. 

“O-oh, that?” Izuku says with a smile, hoping to just brush it off.  “It’s nothing.” When Hikaru meets him with a skeptical look, Izuku adds,  “Really! I got hurt on the job but it’s nothing I couldn’t handle.” 

Hikaru reaches out to run his finger over the shape again, brows knitting in confusion. “Is this… is this a bullet hole?” 

“I’m fine, ” Izuku assures him, repeating it for what feels like the hundredth time today. 

Hikaru’s voice is laced with hurt when he says, “Did you get shot?” 

Izuku winces. “Only a little?” 

Hikaru pulls away, and Izuku has to use all of his self-control not to sigh. This was exactly what he’s been trying to avoid. When he meets Hikaru’s eyes, they’re firm and unwavering. “Izuku…” 

Alright. They’re going to have to talk about this. 

“Hikaru,” Izuku says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I’m alright. It wasn't bad.” 

Hikaru doesn’t budge. He crosses his arms even tighter over his chest and lifts a brow in waiting. Izuku supposes that he won’t be able to brush off a literal bullet hole in his body as ‘not a big deal’, which is fair. Izuku gives Hikaru a pleading look, but it’s no use. 

Finally, Izuku relents. “Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender, lowering his gaze and his defenses. “We were apprehending a villain and they maybe kind of sort of… shot me. ” 

Hikaru flinches. There’s pain in his expression that Izuku wishes he could kiss away. “We?” Hikaru asks. “Shouto was with you?”

“Yeah,” Izuku admits. He braces himself for Hikaru’s response, unsure of what it will be. Hikaru knows about Shouto, of course he does. 

He knows that Shouto Todoroki is one of Izuku’s very best friends and that Izuku had a little tiny crush on him when they were in high school, but that it never went anywhere. He knows that in spite of those feelings, they’ve maintained a healthy friendship and an incredible working relationship. Hikaru’s never been jealous of Shouto because he’s never had any reason to be. The feelings that Izuku had for Shouto are in the past, and that’s exactly where they’ll stay. 

So then… Why does Izuku feel so defensive? 

“Well thank god he was there,” Hikaru says with a relieved sigh. Izuku flushes with guilt and looks away. “If he hadn't been there, this could have been much worse.” The blonde relaxes completely, and unfolds his arms. “Remind me to thank him when I see him again.” 

Izuku lets out a breath. How is everything with Hikaru always so simple? He doesn’t question Izuku’s loyalty, or grit his teeth in annoyance. He loves Izuku, fully and completely and it’s more than Izuku could have ever dreamed of deserving. 

“Y-yeah,” Izuku says, in awe of this person in front of him. 

Hikaru laughs softly and leans in, brushing Izuku’s hair out of his face. He smiles — a perfect, beautiful thing. “I know that you don't want to hear it,” he says softly, “But I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if I didn't give you the obligatory ‘you need to be more careful when you're on missions’ speech.” 

Izuku smiles back and issues Hikaru gently on the lips. Hikaru relaxes easily into Izuku’s touch, resting his head against the muscular expanse of Izuku’s chest. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Izuku mumbles, kissing his boyfriend’s hair. “I know. I'm reckless and I think too much with my heart—”

“Your incredibly genuine and kind heart,” Hikaru interrupts, lacing his fingers gently with Izuku’s. 

“Right,” Izuku agrees with a laugh. “But I need to think more with my brain?” 

“Your very intelligent and calculating brain, yes.” Hikaru squeezes Izuku’s hand. 

Izuku laughs. “Does that about cover it?” 

Hikaru sighs and nods into Izuku’s chest. 

“Yeah, that should do it. I just worry about you,” he admits, nuzzling his head a little harder into Izuku. “Hero work is so dangerous.” 

They sway where they’re standing, holding one another tightly. “To be fair, you’re the one that decided to fall in love with a pro hero.” 

Hikaru chuckles at that.  “No, to be fair, I fell in love with the lumbering mess of a man that knocked over my display of peonies on Mother’s Day,” he clarifies, pulling back a little to boop the tip of Izuku’s nose. “That man just happened to also be next in line to take over for All Might and become the new Symbol of Peace.” 

“ You snuck up on me, ” Izuku teases. “And besides, I wasn’t expecting the owner of the flower shop to be so cute. What choice did I have? Was I supposed to not ask you out for coffee? Like, have you seen your eyes?” 

“I love you, dork.” Hikaru snorts and kisses Izuku’s chin. “Do you know that?” 

“I love you too.” Izuku tilts his face down to bridge the gap between them with his lips. 

Hikaru is soft and warm. Izuku is still amazed at how easy it is to find himself so helplessly at the whim of his lover, how each kiss and each touch manges to take him apart. 

“Oh, by the way,” Izuku blurts out, pulling away from the kiss. “Shouto said he’d come to the festival with us this weekend.” 

Hikaru’s face lights up. “Seriously?” 

“Yeah. It took a little convincing,” Izuku says, bending the truth a little. “But you know how he is with social events. I think he’s looking forward to it, though.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s coming then.” Hikaru smiles. “I would really love to spend more time with your best friend.” He places a gentle hand over the scabbed bullet hole. “And thank him for always being there to save you.” 

Hikaru pulls away from Izuku and heads over towards the bathroom door. He pulls the band from his hair and shakes it loose, winking at Izuku. “I'm going to go take a bath because as much as I’d love to pretend that I look sexy right now, I must smell like fertilizer.”

“Oh, yeah. But only a little,” Izuku teases. 

“And you just kissed me like it’s nothing?” Hikaru says, placing a hand over his heart in offense. “You’re supposed to tell me these things, Zu! You don’t need to put up with my stinky antics. You deserve better.” 

Izuku hesitates. 

No, he thinks, You’re the one who deserves better. 

“Hey, you deal with my post hero work stinkiness all the time, it’s the least I can do.” 

Hikaru sticks out his tongue and then disappears behind the door to the bathroom. Izuku hears the show turn on and he sighs in relief. 

That… went a lot better than he was expecting. 

There was no blow out or guilt-trip. But, really, why would there be? It’s not like Izuku did anything wrong. He’s a hero and heroes get hurt sometimes. It could have been a lot worse than it was. Izuku knows that. 

And yet, for some reason he can’t shake this sinking feeling in his stomach. He thinks, in some dark part of his mind, that maybe it’s because he knows that when he saw that villain fire the gun, all of those feelings that he thought were gone came rushing right back to the surface. 

There wasn’t even a thought in his mind when he rushed to push Shouto out of the way. When he was faced with his own death or the possibility of losing Shouto, he chose the former. And he’d do it again. 

Every time.

Izuku didn’t want this. 

He didn’t want any of this. 

He just wanted to spend time with Shouto, and go on a walk down memory lane, he didn’t want — fuck , he really, really didn’t want this. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Izuku asks, shock and confusion making words hard to form. Izuku’s head is pounding and the residual booming of the fireworks behind him is doing nothing to help clear his head.

Shouto had read the letter that Izuku had written him all those years ago. He’d read it, too many years too late, and now he’s standing on the roof of U.A. and looking at Izuku like — like that . Looking at Izuku like he’s something precious and perfect, like he’s worth putting their entire fucking friendship on the line for the chance to tell him how he feels. 

It’s too much. It’s way, way too much and Izuku doesn’t want this.  

Why? Why does it have to be now? What is the point of talking about a crush that had died out half a decade ago? Things like that are better off dead and buried and left to rot. Izuku had long mourned those feelings. Izuku has already moved on.

He’s moved on, and he’s found someone new that he loves dearly. He doesn’t have feelings for Shouto anymore. He can’t have feelings for Shouto anymore. 

But then, Shouto is taking a step forward, and his eyes are glued on Izuku’s and the fireworks are igniting behind them and filling the sky with colors and lights that illuminate the blue of Shouto’s left eye and and and —

Shouto is kissing him. His lips are pressed against Izuku’s and greedy hands grab fistfuls of yukata and Izuku’s heart shoots to his throat. 

Shouto is kissing him. 

He’s kissing him and he tastes like honey and spearmint toothpaste. He’s sweet and salty and he smells like rain and his arms are wrapped so tightly around Izuku that Izuku can feel Shouto’s heart beating against his own — thundering in tune with the fireworks exploding all around them.

He feels like home, and it’s everything Izuku had ever dreamed it would be. 

Izuku thinks of that night. He thinks of waiting so long — too long, beneath that cherry blossom tree. He thinks of the pain and heartache and longing that he’d felt every time he saw Shouto at the agency for an entire year after that. 

And now Shouto is kissing him. 

Izuku kisses him back. He closes his eyes and lets his mind go blank and opens his mouth to welcome the soft brush of Shouto’s tongue against his. He places hungry hands against Shouto’s chest and pulls the fabric tightly through scarred fingers. 

This is happening. It isn’t a dream. It’s real and oh my god—  

Izuku thinks of nights spent sulking on Ochako’s couch. He thinks of sorrowful pity parties and pints of green tea ice cream. He thinks of the hopeless pit that sat smack dab in the middle of his chest and the nagging in his brain that told him he’d ‘never find anyone like Shouto’. He thinks of how long it took him to move on. How he hadn’t been able to work alongside Shouto without eyeing him every day, without imagining the way Shouto’s lips would taste, without thinking of Shouto’s arms wrapped around him. How he hadn’t felt over it for so long, until —

Izuku’s eyes open wide and his heart stops in his chest. 

Hikaru.

Panic blinds his vision in flashes of white and orange and fucking red and oh god what is he doing?

Izuku’s hands tighten on Shouto’s chest and he pushes hard against the other man, thrashing and fighting and desperately trying to pull away because he can’t do this, he can’t fucking do this—

Shouto releases him and Izuku stumbles back, putting as much distance between them as he can. He stares at Shouto and his heart breaks in half because Shouto looks so fucking destroyed. Izuku’s hand shoots to his lips, still wet and raw from the kiss and he can barely control the emotions that are rising within him like vomit threatening to spew. 

He swallows hard. Okay. Maybe it’s actual vomit. 

“W-What the hell Shouto?” Izuku manages to get the words out. The fireworks seem suddenly a million times louder and the pounding in Izuku’s head makes his tone sound a lot more hysterical than he means. 

“Izuku, oh god—” Shouto looks defeated. His eyes are broken and desperate and Izuku can’t bear to see him like this. He takes a step towards Izuku and Izuku instinctively flinches backwards. No , no , no — 

Don’t come near me. You can’t come near me. You can’t. 

“I-I have a boyfriend!” Izuku tries to explain, his voice cracking on every vowel as he tries to shout over the pounding in his head and his chest and the noise of the stupid fireworks. “You can’t just… you can’t just kiss me!” 

Shouto reaches out a trembling hand. “I’m so sorry, Izuku, I’m so—“ 

But Izuku doesn’t let him finish, he can’t. He can’t listen to the person he’s loved for years tell him that he’s sorry that they kissed. He can’t look at those eyes and see that expression and pretend that the kiss hadn’t been everything Izuku had ever wanted it to be. 

Why now? Why did it have to be now ? 

Izuku wishes with all of his heart that this could be happening in the same place, with the same fireworks, and the same kiss — only five years earlier. 

“No,” Izuku says, his voice breaking. “No.” His head is spinning and another ear-splitting firework goes off and Izuku feels like he’s the one that’s going to explode. “I waited for you under that tree for three hours,” he tries to explain, he has to explain. “And you didn’t come and you decide to kiss me now?”

Why now , Shouto? 

Shouto doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Izuku with eyes filled with hurt  and Izuku can’t handle seeing his friend looking like that. He can’t handle seeing Shouto looking like that. It takes everything he has in him not to surge forward and wrap his arms around Shouto, not to pull him in and kiss away those tears that are threatening to fall down the sides of his perfect cheeks. 

“I… I have to go,” Izuku says just as another firework splits his headache apart. He isn’t sure if Shouto can hear him. It doesn’t matter. He has to go. 

He has to go before he does something that he can’t take back. 

“Goodbye Shouto.” 

He turns and runs to the door as fast as he can. Don’t look back, don’t look back, if you look back you’re going to stay and you can’t stay…

He throws himself down the stairs, taking them two at a time and nearly breaking his ankles in the process. He lets his adrenaline carry him down. He doesn’t let himself think. 

Once he’s outside of the building, Izuku starts to really feel the panic. How fucking stupid had he been to bring Shouto here of all places? Everywhere Izuku looks are memories, etched into the stone pathways between buildings. 

He and Shouto had spent so much time walking these sidewalks, so many late nights spent huddled over books in the library followed by speed-walks back to their dorms before Aizawa could catch them out past curfew. Izuku can’t remember how many times they’d walked together through the bite of the winter air, keeping close to Shouto who was using his quirk to keep them warm.

As Izuku rushes through the empty campus and towards the crowded streets of the festival, visions of his high school days invade his mind, playing before his eyes like the faded film of an old viewfinder, clicking between far off memories that feel like dreams.

He sees himself glancing at Shouto in class, admiring the unique way that Shouto used to line his pencils up in a meticulous row on the right side of his desk. The sun from the windows would hit his eyes just right and they’d sparkle and shine in a way that made Izuku’s chest tight. 

Click .

He sees Shouto falling asleep on Izuku’s bed after a busy night of cramming for a test. Izuku couldn’t bring himself to wake him, too distracted by the way Shouto’s eyelashes fluttered as he dreamed. Izuku remembers leaning in and listening to the sound of Shouto’s breathing, and then falling asleep too, just like that. 

Click . 

Izuku sees tears of laughter, and nights of binging movies together. He remembers feelings. Too many feelings shared between them. He remembers too many unshared secrets carefully placed beneath All Might pillow cases and on the bottoms of unfinished popcorn bowls. So many things Izuku wishes he would have said — wishes he could have said. 

Why now? 

Those feelings had gone away now. They’d vanished into tightly packed boxes of old school uniforms that would never fit anymore, into trash bins filled with advertisements for the school’s sports festival that Izuku had held onto for too long. 

He didn’t feel that way about Shouto anymore. He didn’t, he was sure that he didn’t. He’d worked way too hard on bettering himself. He couldn’t allow himself to not be over Shouto god damn Todoroki. 

And yet…

Izuku slows his pace and catches his breath somewhere between the campus and as far as he can possibly get from the publicly packed setting of the festival. Instinctively his hand trails the soft skin of his bottom lip, the buzz of the kiss still sending pins and needles down his throat.

Why now ?

Izuku decides not to tell Hikaru about Shouto. He decides that he is going to corner Shouto at work on Monday and they’re going to talk about what happened like mature adults. They aren’t in high school anymore, after all, and an accidental moment of confused feelings between them shouldn’t interfere with an eight year friendship. They’re going to talk about it, they’re going to work it out, and everything is going to be fine . 

Everything is decidedly not fine when Izuku walks into work on Monday. 

“What do you mean he resigned ?” Izuku asks again, his voice shaking with something that is unmistakably anger and confusion. 

“He called Tensei over the weekend and said that he had accepted a position at another firm.” Tenya explains, glasses gleaming in the light from the office windows. “I don’t really understand it, I thought he was happy here.” 

“He was.” Izuku manages through gritted teeth. Shouto had resigned? Without even telling him? 

“I wonder if something happened, perhaps…” Tenya says thoughtfully, “his father may have finally convinced him to take a position at the family firm, in which case, I can hardly blame him considering that’s exactly what I did given the opportunity. Still...I thought that things were still less than ideal with his father given their history…” 

“They are.” Izuku says quickly, “He hasn’t spoken to his father in two years.”

Tenya is quiet for a moment, and he considers Izuku carefully through the lenses of his prescription glasses. His eyebrows furrow and his pupils scan Izuku’s face with methodical heed. Tenya knows Izuku well enough to detect that something is wrong, and their friendship has grown past the point of needing to ask.

His face relaxes and he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Did something, er, happen? Between the two of you?” 

Izuku hesitates. “You could say that.” He says softly, trying to hide the irritation in his voice. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tenya asks easily - his tone tells Izuku that he isn’t prying. He’s asking as a friend, not as a co-worker. 

“It’s sort of…” Izuku explains, “private? Personal? Ugh, it’s complicated .” 

“I understand.” Tenya says, and he means it. 

“I didn’t expect him to resign .” 

“It is...unlike him…” Tenya considers thoughtfully. “Though he has been known to act recklessly in the past. Do you remember our provisional licensing exam in our first year?” 

Of course. How could Izuku forget? The entire class has passed with the exam with the exception of two students - Katsuki Bakugo and Shouto Todoroki. 

“In his defense, that wasn’t entirely his fault.” Izuku offers. 

“True, but it was partially his fault. And it was his reckless behavior and decision making that cost him the passing score.” Tenya shakes his head, “so it really isn’t completely out of character for him to behave recklessly, especially if his emotions are heightened.” 

Heightened emotions. 

Izuku recalls the look on Shouto’s face when he’d pushed him away - the way his eyes had glistened with unshed tears in the bright flashing lights from the fireworks. The way Shouto had looked hurt, confused, broken. 

“I’ll call him.” Izuku decides. “I’m sure he’ll change his mind once we talk it out.” 

Tenya nods. “Tensei told him that the position would always be here, should he change his mind.” 

“Great.” 

Izuku steps outside to make a phone call. He hadn’t called Shouto all weekend because - honestly what was there to say that couldn’t be said in person? Confused feelings and mistakes in moments of passion didn’t stop him from being a professional alongside his best friend. 

Obviously, Shouto didn’t feel the same way. 

The phone rings a few times before going to voicemail. 

“H-hey Shouto!” Izuku starts, keeping his voice relaxed, trying to hide the stress he’s under, “I just got into work and Tenya told me that you resigned? I just wanted to check with you and make sure everything’s okay. Uh, anyway, call me when you get this.”

Shouto doesn’t call him back. 

"Hi Shouto! I’m not sure if you got my other message, but I just wanted to talk about your decision to leave the firm. I don’t want you to miss out on opportunities because of me. I think that we should definitely talk about this as soon as you get the chance. Talk to you soon.”  

Izuku doesn’t tell Hikaru about his falling out with Shouto. He doesn’t know how to. 

He doesn’t want to.

Shouto doesn’t call him back. 

"Hey Shouto, it’s Izuku. I haven’t heard from you since Friday. Tenya says he hasn’t heard from you either. I know that you’re probably super confused about everything that happened and...and I am too. I think it would be a really good idea to talk about it. Anyway. Yeah. Call me back.”

Shouto comes into the office when Izuku is on patrol to collect his belongings. Tenya mourns the loss and confesses to Izuku that he wishes there was something he could have said that might have convinced him to stay. 

Shouto doesn’t call him back. 

"It’s uh...it’s Izuku. It’s been a week and a half since I’ve seen you or heard from you. I just want to make sure that you’re alive? C-call me when you get a chance.”

Izuku is assigned Red Riot as a temporary partner. He’s really fun to work with, but it isn’t the same. Kirishima tells him that Shouto’s been assigned as a partner to Bakugo at his new agency. 

Izuku can’t blame him. Bakugo is a great hero. 

Shouto still doesn’t call him back. 

“So I saw that you posted bird video on your twitter. I guess that means you’re alive...and it also means that you’re definitely avoiding me. W-which I mean, I guess I get it? Things are weird right now so it’s cool if you’re not ready to talk. B-but...work isn’t uh...the same without you. I hope you’re doing alright.” 

Izuku stops being able to sleep through the night. He’s called Shouto for three straight weeks with no answer. No text messages. Nothing.

“So I guess I can’t take a hint, huh? I’m just calling to tell you that I saw a cat today that was half black and half white and it reminded me of you. I wonder if he’d make a good sidekick? Haha...okay yeah maybe this was a stupid reason to call. Anyway. Bye.”

A teary eyed and nearly hysterical Izuku finally tells Hikaru that he and Shouto had a falling out but he doesn’t go into detail. Hikaru doesn’t ask him to elaborate. He tells Izuku that he’s sure they’ll be friends again soon once they make up. 

Izuku doesn’t believe him.

Izuku finally tells himself that Shouto isn’t going to call back.

“Okay, this is probably the last time I’m going to call you...obviously you don’t want to be friends anymore. I get it. But uh...I miss you. And I really hope that you’re doing well. I’m sorry that things have been so confusing. And I’m sorry that I can’t take a hint. I don’t know if you’re even listening to these voicemails…I hope that you are.”

Ochaco is late. 

Which isn’t really a big deal, and normally Izuku wouldn’t care about something like this, but for some reason right now it’s really bothering him. It’s bothering him from his head of unruly curls that he hasn’t had the effort to take care of all the way to the uncontrollable jittering in his toes. He taps his cell phone lightly for what feels like the hundredth time since he’s arrived at the cafe and the screen lights up to reveal his All Might lock screen and the bright white numbers that remind him that yes, Ochaco really is fifteen minutes late. 

Izuku checks behind him again, scanning the tables of the small cafe for a head of chestnut hair. He doesn’t see her. 

She’s not here yet. 

That’s fine. 

It’s fine .

Really. 

Izuku checks his phone again for good measure, because maybe she’ll text him and tell him that she’s going to be late? But once again the screen illuminates to alert him that Ochaco hasn’t texted him, and she’s pushing it now by being sixteen minutes late. 

The bell on the cafe door chimes loudly, and Izuku snaps towards it like an impatient child. He relaxes a little when she walks in and spots him immediately, making a beeline towards him. She’s wearing a pink sun dress with white flowers on it, and oversized sunglasses that make her round face look even rounder. Her chestnut hair sits against her collarbone on either side, tied into neatly braided pigtails with soft white ribbons. Izuku waves at her, pulling his hand subconsciously from his mouth - had he been biting his nails again?

The realization is almost enough to distract him from the situation. He hadn’t had an issue with nail biting since...well, since high school . Honestly, he hadn’t had any issues with a lot of his weird ticks since leaving high school. So why was he suddenly having them now ?

Before he can focus too much on it, Ochaco is setting her purse down on the table and throwing herself into an empty chair across from Izuku. 

“I’m so sorry,” she starts, pulling off her glasses to reveal a pink flush of exhaustion beneath them. “There was a kitten stuck in a tree on the way over here. Can you believe that? An actual kitten stuck in a tree. How cliche is that?” she speaks easily, comfortably, years of friendship making things easy for them. There are beads of sweat pooled on her forehead from the summer heat.

“Hey Ochaco.” Izuku breathes softly, the tension in his shoulders relaxing a little. The anxiety that he’d built up in anticipation of her arrival slowly fizzles away at the sight of her.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late, seriously.” She says quickly, her eyes glancing down at his gnawed and masticated fingernails. “You know me I’m never usually -” Ochaco is cut off by the arrival of their waitress. 

She’s a short girl with brilliant blue hair. Her right arm is decorated with a nautical tattoo sleeve - a massive anchor, a colorful ocean scene, starfish and grandiose sailboat. Her ears are pointed and webbed - possibly some sort of water-type quirk? Izuku tries not to stare, but he can’t help it. The waitress meets Ochaco’s eyes and smiles, her mouth filled with opulent pointed teeth like Kirishima’s. 

“Good afternoon,” She says sweetly, “My name is Mizuki, and I’ll be taking care of you today.” 

Yeah. Definitely some sort of water-type quirk , Izuku decides, pulling his eyes away to glance over the menu.

“I’ll take a lemonade and a strawberry fruit tart, please.” Ochaco says politely, handing the menu to the waitress who takes it with webbed hands. 

Maybe she can breathe underwater? Or control sea life? Izuku wishes he had his quirk notebook handy to consider everything. Webbed ears and webbed hands made it seem as though she probably had an accelerated swimming ability. She doesn’t look like she’s akin to any particular animal like Tsu, but maybe an axolotl? 

“And anything for you sir?”

“W-what? O-oh, uh” Izuku realizes that despite his best efforts to avoid it, he’d been staring at the waitress. Oh god , and probably muttering to himself. “I’ll just have a hot ginger tea please.” he orders, fighting back the flush on his cheeks and handing his menu to Mizuki.

Ochacho scoffs and raises an eyebrow. “Deku, it’s ninety-five degrees.” 

Mizuku freezes. She grabs the menu in Izuku’s hand but doesn’t pull away. Her crimson eyes widen in surprise. She glances over to Ocacho and then back again to Izuku. “D-Deku?” She asks, “As in, the hero Deku?” 

Shit.  

Izuku glances around to make sure that no one else can hear them. Luckily the cafe is fairly empty and people seem to be minding their own business. Ochacho’s hands shoot over her mouth as though she’d just spilled the world’s biggest secret and she casts Izuku an apologetic look.

“Uh…” Izuku says, weighing his options, and then, “Y-yeah. That’s me.” 

Mizuki smiles even wider than before. “I thought it was you, but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to be a weirdo! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it’s really you!”

Deku smiles sheepishly and waves politely. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Mizuki nods and pulls the menu from Izuku’s hands. “You saved my sister’s life in April!” She explains, voice dripping with excitement. “Y-you saved her life. There was a fire in her office building and you and the pro hero Shouto saved her life!”

Izuku feels his heart sink at the mention of Shouto’s name. 

“I-I can’t thank you enough.” She continues, her smile positively glowing.“Is there anything else I can get you? It’s on the house.”

“N-No it’s okay. It’s just part of being a hero.” Izuku replies pleasantly. He’s still not used to being praised by complete strangers. It’s a weird feeling - rewarding, humbling, and incredibly awkward. 

Still, he knows that as someone who is next in line to be the world’s greatest Symbol of Peace, he needs to learn to be gracious. “I’m glad your sister is safe.” he adds, smiling a bit more genuinely. 

“Thanks to you.” Mizuki says softly. She nods again, blinking hard, and when she meets Izuku’s gaze there are tears in her eyes. “Thanks to you.” 

Izuku’s heart swells. “It’s really no problem.” 

“Okay, well, I’ll stop bothering you” Mizuki says with a light laugh. She brushes her forefinger under her eyes.“I’m going to get your drinks and I’ll be right back. Thanks again for all that you do.” 

When she turns to leave, Ochaco lets out a heavy sigh. “Sorry.” She says simply. Her fingers weave together nervously in front of her. “Force of habit.”

“It’s alright, it’s part of the job.” Izuku explains, and he means it. “I wouldn’t have become a hero if I couldn’t handle being recognized in public.” 

“Yeah, that’s true.” Ochaco sounds relieved. She lets out a low breath and turns her head to look in the direction Mizuki had left it. She’s quiet for a moment, thinking, and then, “You really are a great hero, ya know.” She nearly whispers. 

“Yeah.” Izuku nods, but his heart isn’t in it. 

What kind of hero can’t even stop himself from hurting his best friend? 

“You are .” Ochaco says loudly, turning her attention and facing Izuku. 

“I know .” 

“Then why don’t you sound like you mean it?” She asks with a frown. When Izuku doesn’t answer her right away, she takes a moment to look him over properly. She must notice the way that his foot can’t stop shaking, or maybe she notices the way that his hair frizzes out in all different directions from lack of hair-care products, because her frown only deepens. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you be this hard on yourself…” she admits, “I’m assuming you didn’t invite me here just to catch up.”

Izuku sighs.“Guilty.” he confesses. He glances down at the cool black surface of his phone screen. “But I do want to catch up. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you as often as I used to.” 

Ochaco’s face relaxes and she gives him a kind smile. “Izuku. We’re adults. With jobs. Pro hero jobs. It’s okay if you can’t call me every day. I’m still here when you need me.” 

She reaches across the table and drapes her hand gently over Izuku’s. Izuku gives her a thankful look, but before he can say anything to elaborate on the subject, Mizuki brings them their beverages. 

She places their drinks in front of them and surprises them by bringing two fruit tarts. She places them both in the center of the table and thanks them both for all of the hard work they do every day. She doesn’t linger and is gone before Izuku can protest the free food - so he accepts it. 

“Now, what’s up with you? Why the gloomy eyes?” Ochacho asks through a mouthful of fruit tart. 

Izuku doesn’t know where to start. He pulls the additional dessert over to himself and prods at a strawberry with his fork. Ochacho watches him carefully, but doesn’t pressure him to begin. 

“It’s weird,” He says after a bit, slicing through a strawberry easily and scooping up a piece of the fruit tart. He takes a bite, and it’s sweet. Really sweet. Sweeter than he’s had in a long time while trying to maintain his health. But it’s nice - indulgent, just this once. “because, honestly, you're right. I haven’t been this hard on myself in a while.” He continues thoughtfully, “I haven’t felt like this since...well, since high school. So…” he sighs, taking another bite, “So unsure.” 

Ochacho places her own fork down gently on her plate. She cocks her head to the side with a furrowed brow. “Unsure about what?” 

“I don’t know. Nothing?” Izuku laments, “Ugh, everything?” 

She seems to choose her next words carefully, judging the situation as best as she can given their history as friends. “Are things with Hikaru okay?”

“Oh, they’re great.” Izuku says quickly.“They’re honestly going really well.” he presses at her disbelieving expression, “It’s been a year since we moved in together and we barely even argue. He’s super understanding and patient with me. I know that the hero stuff stresses him out but he still tries to understand it and doesn’t hold it over me. He’s attractive and sweet and kind…”

“But?” She offers, pulling her lemonade towards her and taking a sip. 

“But nothing, that’s the thing.” Izuku leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling. “Or at least, it was .” 

“Izuku…” she continues, “Does this sudden lapse in confidence have anything to do with Shouto?”

The name hits him square in the chest. It had been bad enough when the waitress had said it casually, but hearing it in Ochacho’s voice - so sweet and simple, somehow feels much, much worse. Izuku closes his eyes tightly and lets the discomfort creep through his veins in a rush of shame and guilt. 

Of course. This has everything to do with Shouto. 

“What do you mean?” he asks, but he doesn’t put his heart into the question. He knows that she knows that this is entirely about their icy hot friend. 

“Well, Eijiro told me that he got a job working with Katsuki as a partner…” She offers, placing the information onto the table like another unwanted fruit tart. 

“Yeah.” Izuku replies, voice heavy with guilt. “We uh...had a fight?”

“A fight ?” Ochaco practically yells, startling Izuku from his sulking party. She leans over the table and gives him a concerned look, “Whoa, that’s crazy . You guys never fight.”

“I know.” Izuku groans, leaning closer to her and propping his head up on his elbows. “Which is exactly why I have no idea how to handle this.” 

“What exactly did you fight over?” She asks. 

And so Izuku explains. He explains about the jewelry store, and how Shouto had been acting strange. He explains about the festival and how Hikaru had left the two of them alone to deal with a business emergency. He explains that Shouto had found the note that Izuku had thought he’d ignored, and how they’re shared an intimate conversation on the rooftop of UA and how...well, how Shouto had kissed him.

“He kissed you? Izuku oh my god .” Ochacho blurts out once he’s finished explaining. “Did you kiss him back?”

Izuku doesn’t say anything in response. He buries his face into his hands and hopes that she knows the answer on her own.

“Oh my god.” 

Izuku lets out a guttural noise and digs his fingers into his scalp.“I feel horrible about it. I can barely look Hikaru in the eyes.” 

Ochaco is quiet at first. She stirs her straw around in her lemonade thoughtfully and chews the inside of her cheek.  When she finally speaks, her voice is stern but kind. “Well, do you still have feelings for Shouto?”

Izuku pushes his palms into his eyeballs. “I don’t know.”

She clicks her tongue. “How can you not know?”

“Because I have a boyfriend! Izuku says miserably, yanking his hands from his face and slamming them into his thighs. “That I like .” 

“Izuku…” Ochacho narrows her eyes and gives him a calculating look. “Can I ask you something? And for your sake, I’d like you to be as honest with me as you can.” 

“Sure.” 

She lets out a huff of breath and meets his eyes. “Are you...Are you happy with Hikaru?”

For some reason, Izuku is completely unprepared for this question. What does this have to do with anything? “What do you mean?” 

“Well, whenever you talk about him, you always tell me how nice he is and how understanding he is, but you don’t really…” She hesitates, “Tell me how he makes you feel .” 

Huh. 

Izuku hasn’t really...thought about it? Hikaru is a good guy. He’s really very sweet and very understanding. Izuku admires that about him.

“Does he make you happy?” She repeats, laying the words out carefully between them. 

“I…” Izuku starts, “I mean, I know that I like seeing him happy. And he’s happy when he’s with me…”

Ochacho shakes her head. “Right, but Izuku, does he make you happy?” she presses.

“I’m happy when he’s happy!” Izuku insists. 

“Izuku, you’re not answering me.” She raises her voice a little, “ Does Hikaru make you happy ?”

”Is there a difference?” Izuku asks, genuinely surprised by the turn of events. He doesn’t have an answer for her.  

“Of course there’s a difference.” She sighs, leaning back in her chair to get a better look at Izuku’s entire body. “Izuku, you’re always so worried about how other people feel. You’re always so focused on making sure other people are happy and making sure that other people get what they want. But it’s okay to be selfish every once in a while.” 

It’s Izuku’s turn to shake his head. “But I’m a hero.” he explains, frustrated. “I can’t be selfish.” 

“I’m a hero too, and you know how selfish I can be.” Ochacho rolls her eyes.“ Katsuki is a hero. I don’t need to explain why that’s relevant to this conversation - you grew up with the guy.” 

Izuku cracks a smile at that comment. 

“I do love him.” he protests, “Hikaru.” 

“I know that Izuku. But you also love Shouto.” Ochacho concludes,  “Don’t you?”

“I don’t…” Izuku’s head starts pounding again. “I don’t know.” 

Ochacho finishes her lemonade and swirls the empty glass around in her hand. She sighs loudly. “No,” she mutters, “I don’t suppose you do.” 

“Help.” Izuku pleads. 

“I can’t help you Izuku. Only you can.” She gives him a sympathetic smile. “You need to make a choice.” She says simply.

“What kind of choice?” Izuku asks, but he knows the answer. 

“You need to choose which relationship you want to put your efforts into. If Shouto left the agency, then I’m assuming that he...doesn’t want to talk to you…” She says slowly. “Which means that he still has feelings for you . So if you push and pursue him and you make him talk to you, you’re opening the door to those feelings.” 

Izuku nods. She’s right. He knows she’s right.

“Or you can let him go. And let him work out this...whatever it is that he has to work through. And while he’s doing that, you can work on things in your own relationship.” 

That means that he needs to stop calling Shouto every day. 

“I work with Kyouka at my agency. I can see if Momo’s said anything about Shouto. But, Izuku…” 

“Yeah?” he asks quietly. 

She stares at him with an intense look. “I think that you know what you need to do if you’re going to make your relationship with Hikaru work.” 

Izuku sighs. “Yeah.” 

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too.” She says, pulling the remainder of Izuku’s fruit tart over to her plate. “Because I’m going to eat it.” 

“I don’t…” Izuku snorts, “I don’t think that’s how the metaphor works.” 

Ochacho laughs and takes a bite of his fruit tart. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Izuku says with a heavy sigh, “I do.” 

“Hey Shouto. I know I said that last time was my last time calling, but this time I really mean it. I’ve uh...done a lot of thinking. And if this is how you’re choosing to handle what happened between us, then I’m going to respect that. If I’m being honest, I don’t fully understand it. I still want to be your friend. But if I can’t do that without hurting you, then...I get it. So. This is me. Letting you go, I guess? I have to focus on my happiness too. So. This is it for us. For real this time.

Goodbye, Shouto.”

The next month seems to go by in a complete blur. Izuku puts his all into his hero work, which thankfully seems to function as a great distraction. He gives a lot of thought to what Ochaco had said to him in the cafe about his relationship, and he knows that she’s right. He needs to make a decision about what he wants. 

Or in this case, who he wants. 

It sucks, because he’s never had to think about this before. He’d always been in love with Shouto, that was true, but the prospect of the two of them ever being together had been completely off of the table since Izuku had graduated high school. 

He’d been fully invested in his relationship with Hikaru. He’d been content to settle for the fact that he and Shouto were not a thing, that they’d never be a thing. But that had all changed the night of the festival. 

Izuku decides not to talk to Hikaru about it. 

Red Riot turns out to be a pretty great partner. He and Izuku make a great team, and their history as classmates makes it pleasant to work together. Eijiro has always been kind to Izuku, so it’s easy to get into a comfortable flow without a struggle for power dynamics. Izuku is a natural leader, and while Eijiro can be as well, he falls easily into the role of a follower while he’s working with Izuku. 

The best thing about working with Eijiro is how easy he is to talk to. There’s never any pressure to talk about something uncomfortable, and the two of them talk mostly about their respective pro hero obsessions (Eijiro’s still just as infatuated with the very idea of Crimson Riot as Izuku is with All Might). Occasionally Eijiro talks about his cats, and he shows Izuku photos of them playing with random items in the house or curled up on Katsuki’s lap. Which, is still really weird for Izuku to process because he never thought that he’d get to see Katsuki Bakugo asleep on a fluffy couch with a tiny white cat curled up in his arms, not even in photograph form. 

Today, Eijiro is showing Izuku a video of Kacchan scritching the belly of their orange cat and laughing as the cat tries to grab at his hands with her little paws. Izuku watches with mild amusement as Katsuki laughs and leans in to plant a kiss on her furry head. 

“He’s the best dad.” Eijiro concludes, closing his phone screen and placing it in his pocket. It’s a slow day for patrol, so they’ve basically been hanging out on top of a parking garage for a solid hour now. 

Izuku can’t help but laugh a little at his partner’s words. “I honestly never thought I’d hear someone say that about Kacchan.” 

“Well, it’s true.” Eijiro says fondly, flashing his toothy grin. 

“Do you…” Izuku wonders, “Do you guys want kids?” 

Eijiro laughs gently, and stares out at the city below them. He doesn’t answer right away, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the question either. He considers it, turning it over in circles in absent-minded fidgets of his platinum wedding band against his tanned skin. 

“Yeah.” He says finally, “we do.” He slides his ring past his knuckle and then back down to the very base of his finger. “One day, that is. We’ve talked about it a lot, we’re just not in the position right now to uh...ya know. Have a kid. Not when the number one spot is so close for Katsuki.” 

“It is?” Izuku asks in mild surprise. He’d figured that Katsuki would be number one eventually. And then of course he also figured that Izuku himself would be there to take that spot from him within a few months. 

Eijiro’s cheeks flush red to match his hair and costume. “Oh jeez, he’ll kill me if he finds out that I told you that.” He admits. “Don’t say anything.” 

“How does he know?” Izuku asks. 

“Well, he’s planning to go solo at the end of this month. Working with Shouto has done a lot to make him more marketable and he finally has enough cred to go on his own.” Eijiro explains, smiling wide and beaming with pride. 

“He’s lucky to have such a supportive husband.” Izuku says with a sideways smirk and a light nudge to his partner’s ribs. 

“I’m the lucky one.” Eijiro squeezes his ring finger tightly. 

“Ya know, I’ve known Kacchan my whole life.” Izuku laughs, “I never thought that he’d get married before me. Or, well, get married at all.” 

“Yeah, he’s a pretty one of a kind dude.” Eijiro smiles, taking Izuku’s comment as a compliment.  

“That’s an understatement.” Izuku teases, rolling his eyes dramatically. 

“Well what about you?” Eijiro teases back, “You’ve been with your boyfriend for a while now, right?”

“What do you mean?” Izuku raises an eyebrow. 

Eijiro mimics his expression. “Do you guys want kids?”

“Oh god,” Izuku laughs again, his voice coming out in a huff. “We haven’t even talked about that.” 

Eijiro gives him a disbelieving look. “But you live with the guy, right? I don’t want to pry or anything, but that’s gotta be pretty serious.” 

“I guess…” Izuku says, losing the laughter a little. 

“Have you thought about getting married?” Eijiro asks, his tone more serious. 

“Oof, that’s uh...that’s a big conversation topic.” 

“Is it?” Eijiro tilts his head to the side. 

“Yes??”

Eijiro blinks slowly and then shrugs. “Only if you let it be.”

Izuku hums lowly in acknowledgement and comfortable silence falls between them. Izuku likes hanging out with Eijiro. There’s never any judgement or pressure or unrealistic standards for Izuku to live up to. 

“How...How did you know?” Izuku asks a few minutes later, cutting through the silence.“That you were ready? With Kacchan?”

The sun is setting now over the city’s skyline. The sky is painted in splashes of periwinkle and lilac fading together like a water-color canvas with an ocean of yellow and crimson. 

Eijiro looks out at the sunset thoughtfully. “Dude, I know it’s going to sound super cliche, but I think I always knew.” he says softly. “There was just no one else. When I looked, hell, look into the future, all I can see is Katsuki.” Again, his hand fidgets with his wedding band. 

“He makes me a better person. He makes me a better hero.” Eijiro glances over at Izuku and flashes his signature smile. “When it came to marriage, it was never a matter of ‘if’ we were going to - it was always a matter of ‘when’. If he hadn’t asked me when he did, we would have still gotten engaged by the end of the month because I’d already placed a down payment on his ring.” 

Izuku stares at him. He can almost feel tears burning in the corners of his eyes. He blinks rapidly to avoid letting them fall. “That’s really sweet.” he mutters. 

“I dunno...I can’t…” Eijiro continues gently. “I can’t describe it. There’s no one else in this entire world that makes me feel as happy as Katsuki does.” 

“Doesn’t it get hard? With both of you being pros?” Izuku prys. 

“Nah,” Eijiro responds easily.  “We can both hold our own. I mean, yeah, sure, I worry about him constantly. And I guess there’s always the possibility that one of us might not make it home at the end of the day.” he shakes his head. “But that’s what makes it so much sweeter when we do make it home. When we get to curl up in bed and watch bad movies, or when we ice eachother’s bruises, it’s like...we’re so thankful to just be here.” 

He’s quiet for a moment before punching Izuku lightly on the shoulder. When Izuku gapes at him he winks.  “And of course ‘ we almost died today ’ sex is out of this god damned world.” 

He laughs, and Izuku does too. For the first time in what feels like weeks, Izuku actually laughs. 

And below them, the sun sets over the horizon. 

Izuku’s next day off comes two weeks later. It’s a beautiful day - bright warm summer sunshine floods the apartment beams of golden hue. Hikaru is thrilled to finally have a day together, and makes it into a Big Deal. He goes to the farmer’s market and buys ingredients to cook dinner despite Izuku’s frequent requests to stay in and order takeout. 

“We can compromise.” Hikaru explains, pulling vegetables out of a reusable shopping bag. “We can stay in, but no take out. I want to celebrate our night off together!” 

Izuku doesn’t protest. He helps Hikaru out in the kitchen, making curry and dancing along to music from the radio. It’s simple, it’s easy, and Izuku is thankful for it. 

For once, he isn’t sitting there thinking about what he’s going to do about the...Shouto situation. He still hasn’t heard from Shouto, and he’s started to suspect that Shouto might have blocked his number. Scratch that - he’s almost positive that Shouto has definitely blocked his number. 

Which means that even if Izuku did decide to try to save his friendship with Shouto, it would be difficult. 

He’s thankful that things can be...effortless with Hikaru. Going through the motions of what it means to be together isn’t a challenge, and Izuku is really good at faking it. Hikaru doesn’t know why Izuku and Shouto aren’t speaking, just that they are. It isn’t worth it to have this conversation, not yet. Not until Izuku’s sure. 

The evening goes well. Dinner is wonderful, wine is wonderful, sex is wonderful. In retrospect, it was a perfectly ordinary evening without anything monumental happening. In retrospect, Izuku had completely underestimated the dangers of not being honest with Hikaru. In retrospect, he should have considered the fact that from Hikaru’s perspective, things between them were great .  

Unfortunately for Izuku, he doesn’t realize any of this until Hikaru calls him into the kitchen at midnight. He’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom, getting ready for bed when Hikaru’s honeysuckle voice lures him through the apartment. 

When Izuku gets there, his freezes in his tracks. There’s candles lit all around the room and two glasses of wine sitting on the table. Hikaru is waiting for him. He gestures for Izuku to sit down at the table. Izuku’s legs carry him robotically towards the empty chair and he sits, wide-eyed and filled with panic. 

Oh no . Izuku panics, please don’t be going where I think this is going. 

Izuku had wanted this. Two months ago, he’d have started crying the moment he walked into the kitchen. He’d wanted to badly to get married. Hikaru was so sweet and so gentle - with his carnation yellow hair that falls like feathers around his face and his sunshine eyes. He’d been so invested in his life with Izuku, and suddenly Izuku feels all of the guilt that he should have been feeling since the night of the festival.

He should have told Hikaru. He should have been honest. 

Now everything was a mess . 

“Izuku Midoriya…” Hikaru reaches into his pocket.

Oh no.

“These last three years have been some of the happiest years of my entire life…” he pulls out a small black box.

Oh no no no…

“And I’d be the luckiest person on this planet if you’d agree to spend the rest of your life with me.” He flicks the box open easily, and the golden ring inside shine’s brighter than Hikaru’s sunlight quirk. It’s sleek, simple, with a small engraving that says ‘You’re My Hero’.

It’s blinding . 

Izuku stares at the ring and then at Hikaru. Time seems to stand still as the bright, shiny piece of very expensive gold sits heavily between them.

               “But does he make you happy?” 

There’s a lump in Izuku’s throat. 

               “But you love Shouto too, don’t you?”  

He tries to swallow but he can’t, it won’t go down. His head is spinning. 

               “There was just no one else. When I looked, hell, look into the future, all I see is Katsuki.” 

Fuck. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no….

“Uh,” Izuku manages, panic flooding in through the busted gates in his brain. 

Hikaru’s face falters for a moment, but he keeps smiling, confused. 

“Oh god…” Izuku chokes out, his eyes stinging. “Hikaru…”

Hikaru’s smile fades and he places a gentle hand on Izuku’s knee. “Izuku...what…” He bites his lower lip and places the open ring box onto the table. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Hikaru…” Izuku feels the familiar sensation of tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Izuku…” Hikaru’s voice shakes slightly. 

“I’m so, so, so sorry.” Izuku chokes out, sobs catching in his throat. Fuck. Oh fuck . 

“W-Why are you apologizing?” Hikaru looks scared now, and he reaches up to wipe away Izuku’s tears. Izuku flinches at his touch and Hikaru pulls away slightly. 

“I can’t accept that.” Izuku tries to explain, gesturing towards the ring. “I can’t...I can’t do this.”

“What do you….” Hikaru asks, confusion, hurt and worry playing on his face like a very short three act play on loop. “Why?” 

“I…” Izuku wants to explain. He has to explain. He should have explained a long time ago. “I uh…”

               “Because you saved me.”

Izuku’s head is pounding. Oh god...How had he been so stupid?

               “I’d have met you...Under the tree that is…”

Izuku takes a deep breath and dries his face with his sleeve. “Hikaru.” He says firmly, using every ounce of willpower that he has to keep his voice from shaking. “I...I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

The blonde’s expression shatters like glass. The concern and worry quickly fade into anger. He pulls his hands back from Izuku as if Izuku has suddenly burst into flames and stands up. “What do you mean?” He asks carefully. 

“I mean…” Izuku mumbles,  “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Izuku.” Hikaru says harshly, “What do you mean you haven’t been honest with me?”

Izuku bites his tongue. He thinks of late-night study sessions turned to sleep overs in their dorm rooms. The smell of stale potato chips and unwashed laundry. He thinks of collapsing onto one another’s couches or sometimes beds after a long night of partols because they’re both just too tired to go to their own apartments. The warmth of having another person so close, so close , who understood how fucking harrowing hero work could be. He thinks of the way Shouto looks at him when he’s muttering, the way Shouto’s always looked at him, even when he was being weird or reckless. He thinks of the bullet that he’d taken for Shouto two months ago, and all of the bullets he’d willing take for him for the rest of his life if it meant protecting Shouto. 

He sighs. 

“I think I’m in love with Shouto.” Izuku says, and it feels like a weight is being lifted from his shoulders the moment the words leave his lips. He said it. 

He finally fucking said it. 

“What?”

No more restless nights wondering if Shouto’s going to be okay, no more migraines from too many mental pros and cons lists. No more uncertainty.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, barely hearing his own voice. 

“No, no nononono.” Hikaru hisses, eyes narrowed in lividity. He steps away from Izuku and runs his hand wildly through his daffodil hair. The neat petals of his perfectly groomed and put-together demeanor fall in droves around him. “You’re what ?”

He’s in love with Shouto. 

God. He’s so fucking in love with Shouto. 

“I should have told you. I should have told you from the very beginning and I didn’t and I’m so sorry.” Izuku offers, but he knows there’s no point. 

“Shouto? Shouto Todoroki ? You mean the guy you were obsessed with in high school who rejected you?” Hikaru is spiraling, rage becoming tangible in the way his quirk manifests in bright orbs all around them. 

“Actually, he didn’t reject me--” Izuku tires to explain, hoping he can calm the blonde down before one of his sunlight balls burns a hole through the ceiling. 

“The guy that you assured me you had zero feelings for?” Hikaru shouts over Izuku,  “The guy you made me feel crazy for being paranoid about?”

“Hikaru…”

“No. No, this is great. It’s great Izuku.” Hikaru’s voice is borderline hysterical. He’s shaking and looking at Izuku like Izuku had just punch him in the gut.

And in a way, Izuku kind of did?

“I’m so sorry that I didn’t---” Izuku tries, but Hikaru cuts him off. 

“And what do you mean he didn’t reject you? You told me that he blew you off! That he didn’t want anything to do with you!” the blonde shouts. 

“I thought that he did!” Izuku sputters defensively, “It’s a long story…”

“I don’t get it. I don’t understand Izuku! I don’t understand why you’d move in with me if you weren’t serious about our relationship.”

“I thought that I was.” Izuku doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t know how to tell Hikaru that he was, he really was serious about their relationship.  “I...I know it’s kind of pointless now, but I did - do love you.” 

“But you love Shouto...what? More ?” Hikaru gives Izuku a hostile look. 

“It’s...It’s complicated.” 

“No. No Izuku. It isn’t.” 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

Izuku doesn’t know what else to say. So he doesn’t say anything. Hikaru pulls out another chair and falls into it miserably. He doesn’t look at Izuku. The two of them sit there in silence for what feels like an eternity, the air heavy with too many frustrated emotions. 

Too many things to say and not nearly enough words to say them. 

Finally Hikaru mumbles, “I think that it’s best you leave.” 

And Izuku does. He heads into the bedroom and throws on clothes. A flannel, a pair of jeans. He doesn’t bother seeing if they match or not. 

It doesn’t matter. He needs to leave. 

Hikaru hasn’t moved from the kitchen table. He watches Izuku through bloodshot eyes filled with resentment. 

Izuku leaves the apartment without looking back. It’s pouring outside but Izuku barely notices. His legs carry him faster than he can think, and before he can process what he’s doing he’s on the subway heading in a familiar direction. 

His head is spinning, he’s soaking wet, but he doesn’t care as he marches up the steps to Shouto’s apartment. 

Without hesitation, he lifts his fist and knocks. 

Chapter Text

It’s poetic, really, the way things change when you start dating someone new. Opening an encyclopedia on a topic you’d already known so well, making new discoveries as each day passes together. Lips touching skin. The smell of unfamiliar shampoo on your pillow. A new set of shoes on your welcome mat when you get home. 

The days fade into weeks and Shouto is still in disbelief by the time they’re inching closer to their one month anniversary. It feels strange, like some vivid dream that he doesn’t want to wake up from. Izuku spends the night at his apartment on Thursdays and Sundays and if Shouto’s lucky, he’ll get to see him on Fridays too. 

It’s effortless, easy. Falling in love with Izuku Midoriya. Remembering to put the cap back on the toothpaste at night. Kissing him goodbye not once, not twice, but three times when Izuku inevitably forgets to remember his wallet, keys, ID card. It’s the little things that Shouto never got to experience before that makes him smile now that they’re together. 

Together, Shouto thinks, is not a strong enough word for how things feel between them. Shouto counts Izuku’s heartbeats in the freckles on his chest, loses himself in the jungle of ivy curls that sit on Izuku’s head. He’s happy, stupidly happy, and there isn’t a thing that can change that. 

Not even sitting in his car outside of Hikaru’s flower shop as Izuku tries to mentally prepare himself for going in to get the rest of his things from his old apartment. 

“Nervous?” Shouto asks, not really needing an answer with the way Izuku’s hands shake on the dashboard.

“I don’t know what to say to him,” Izuku confesses, leaning back into the seat. “He thinks I cheated on him.” 

“But you didn’t.” 

“I know that!” Izuku rubs his hands over his face. “But he doesn’t believe me. And I don’t know how to change his mind. I don’t know how to say I’m sorry in any way that matters.” 

Shouto considers this, chewing the inside of his lip thoughtfully. He’s known Hikaru for years, third wheeled on countless dates, been left alone with the man while Izuku ran to the store to grab some forgotten ingredient on dinner nights. In all that time he’s only ever known Hikaru to be kind, sweet, understanding. The prospect of Izuku going inside to face an angry, aggressive even, Hikaru wasn’t something Shouto could even imagine

“Maybe he’s cooled down,” Shouto suggests, “maybe enough time has passed that he’s not as upset anymore.” 

Izuku looks doubtful. 

“Yeah,” Izuku sighs, “maybe.” 

It’s weird going back into a place that used to be home. Somewhere that had once felt so safe and secure that now suddenly feels foreign. Izuku climbs the stairs on the side of the building towards the apartment on the upper level. He pauses when he gets to the door, keys heavy in his pocket. Should he knock? 

Technically his name is on the lease. 

Technically he still lives there. 

Izuku decides to knock. 

When Hikaru opens the door Izuku’s mouth goes dry and his heart jumps to his throat. 

Shit . 

This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. 

“Come in,” Hikaru sighs, stepping aside to let Izuku into the apartment. 

Izuku nods and goes in silently, not daring to steal another glance towards Shouto.

Izuku slips off his shoes and walks forward into his old apartment. It smells strange. It used to smell like home. 

Now it smells like Hikaru. 

Hikaru doesn’t say anything as he walks towards the kitchen. He doesn’t offer Izuku tea when they get there and the two men stand in silence for a few moments. Hikaru glances out the window and scowls. 

“I can’t believe you brought him with you,” He practically growls, crossing his arms defensive over his chest. “Did you, like, go straight there the night we broke up?” 

“Would knowing the answer make you feel better?” Izuku asks the question calmly. He sighs and takes a seat at the kitchen table. 

Hikaru is quiet again, eyes narrowed and staring out the window towards where Shouto is waiting in the car. He chews the inside of his cheek, something that Izuku knows means that he’s mulling over his next words carefully. Finally, he closes his eyes and turns his body towards Izuku. When he answers, his voice is tired. “No.” 

“Hikaru,” Izuku tries, voice steady, soft.  “I know I’ve said this a lot but I really am so sorry.” 

“Save it.” Hikaru’s mouth presses into a straight line. “Seriously.” 

Izuku knows that he should drop it. He knows that there isn’t a point talking about it when Hikaru is so obviously angry with him. But he can’t help himself. “I know that I hurt you by breaking up with you.” 

Hikaru’s eyes bolt open, amber irises burning with something Izuku can’t recognize. “Breaking up with me?” He enunciates every syllable, speaking slowly, malice and hurt dripping from his words,  “You think that’s why I’m mad?” 

Izuku hesitates, caught off guard by the anger in Hikaru’s voice. “Well…”

“Izuku,” Hikaru’s voice shakes, “I don’t care that you broke up with me. I care that you lied to me ! That you kept your feelings about Shouto from me, that you kissed him and didn’t tell me !”

Izuku doesn’t know what to say. Hikaru is right. Izuku had hidden so many things from him, he had kept his feelings about Shouto from him through their entire relationship. Maybe if he’d been honest about everything from the very beginning, this wouldn’t be happening. If he’d just communicated instead of hiding so much of himself from the person he loved, they wouldn’t be standing in an apartment that they’d once shared having a glass fight with the shards of their shattered relationship. 

Izuku doesn’t say anything. 

“Izuku, I’m fucking pissed that you kept things from me!” Hikaru nearly shouts. Even broken up, Hikaru’s yelling still cuts straight to the bone with Izuku. “You talk this big game about what it takes to be a hero, but you’re such a...such a…” He grasps visibly in the air, searching for the right word, “scumbag!” 

It stings. Izuku says the only thing that he can think of: “I’m sorry.”

Hikaru laughs, “Are you?” He is shouting now, voice shaking violently, hands gesturing accusatory. “Because you say that a lot. But if you were sorry you wouldn’t have cheated on me—“ 

“I didn’t cheat on you!” For some reason, that gets to Izuku. 

“You kissed him!” 

“He kissed me!” Izuku joins in on the shouting, rising from his seat and towering over Hikaru. Izuku hid things from Hikaru. He’d kept secrets and feelings from him. He’d kept battle scars and wounds from Hikaru’s sight. But he hadn’t cheated. And he isn’t going to let Hikaru say that he did. 

Hikaru’s eyes glitter with tears and his face is red. “But you kept it from me!” he sobs, “And now who’s sitting in the car outside of my apartment waiting for you to be done getting your shit? Shouto fucking Todoroki!” he points angrily out the window towards the idle car. 

Izuku crumbles at the sight of Hikaru’s tears. His valor depleting, he shrinks away. “It’s not...he’s not...we’re not…” 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Hikaru is quiet, tears streaming down his cheeks. His fists are clenched tightly at his sides. “I packed the rest of your things into two boxes. They’re pretty heavy but they shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Izuku wants to disappear. “Thanks.”

Izuku gathers the boxes. Hikaru doesn’t say anything else until Izuku is slipping his shoes back on in the hallway. 

“I don’t forgive you, by the way.” 

Izuku sighs and switches the boxes to his left arm so that he can open the door. “Thanks.” 

Izuku pulls it open but Hikaru slams it shut. He looks at Izuku with pure anger. Hate. 

“And I hope that your relationship with Shouto crashes and burns.” Hikaru spits, “ I hope that he sees what a complete ass you really are under all that fake niceness.” 

Izuku doesn’t say anything. He deserves this. He deserves to feel the pain of the person he’d once loved more than anything spitting acid that melts his bones and burns his skin. Izuku can’t look at Hikaru. So he doesn’t. 

Satisfied, Hikaru opens the door again and holds it for Izuku to leave. “Have a nice life, fake hero.” 

“B-bye then,” Izuku chokes out. 

When Izuku is on the first step, he hears the door slam shut behind him. 

Shouto sees Izuku walking down the stairs carrying two massive boxes and immediately opens the car door and runs to help him. 

Izuku doesn’t need the help though, (stupid strength quirk) and is at the car before Shouto can even cross the street, so Shouto opts to open the trunk instead. 

“How did it go?” Shouto asks as Izuku drops the boxes into the car. 

Izuku sighs, “I mean, how good could it have gone? Break ups suck.” 

Shouto pats Izuku’s back. “Was it at least civil?”

Izuku adjusts the boxes and runs a hand through his curls. He lets out a breath slowly and glances up towards the windows of the flower shop. Shouto sees a curtain close. 

“He thinks I cheated on him.” Izuku closes the trunk and leans against the car. “So. No.” 

“But you didn’t,” Shouto says slowly. 

“No,” Izuku agrees, voice miserable. “I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter.” 

Shouto doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to ease the suffering that he can see so clearly on Izuku’s face, he doesn’t know how to undo the mess he made. He’d spent the last month with Izuku, loving every bit of him, kissing him and holding him and falling asleep every night hoping that he wouldn’t wake up to discover that it had all been a dream. He’d almost forgotten that his dream was someone else’s nightmare. 

He thinks about Hikaru. About his sunshine smile and golden eyes. He thinks about the way he’d light up when Izuku entered a room and how much it would hurt him every time they kissed, the way Hikaru would lean in and soak in Izuku’s essence as if he were the one with the sunlight quirk. 

He thinks of how it’s his fault that Hikaru is hurting. He’s so fucking selfish. 

Shouto feels pressure on his chest and tries to say something comforting, but the words he wants to say won’t come out. Instead  “Izuku I’m so sorry.” 

Izuku’s eyebrows furrow and he looks down at Shouto with an expression Shouto can’t quite read. “Don’t.” 

“Izuku,” Shouto starts, guilt flooding his throat and stinging his eyes. 

“Don’t apologize for this.” Izuku glances up one more time at the window overlooking them and pulls Shouto into a tight hug. He squeezes Shouto tight and doesn’t let go. “I wish that this had happened differently. I wish you’d found my letter in high school and that I didn’t have to go through this right now. But…” he pushes Shouto’s hair back and kisses Shouto’s cheek sweetly and Shouto swears that his heart is going to explode, “we’re together. And sure, it took awhile. But we’re together.”

Shouto squeezes Izuku back.“Finding that letter sooner would have saved all of us a lot of trouble.” 

“It doesn’t matter now.” 

“No,” Shouto agrees, “It doesn’t.” 

Izuku holds Shouto for just a little longer, just long enough to comfort one another, to reassure that yes, god , yes. 

I want this. 

I want you.

When Izuku lets go, they don’t say anything more. They get into the car and drive Izuku’s things back to Shouto’s apartment, because it’s closer Izuku says, because Izuku will probably be back to pick them up later this week anyway. But Shouto knows that there’s no point in having Izuku even bring those things to his apartment, there’s no point in even having separate apartments because this is it - this is the end game. 

It has to be. 

Izuku is his. They don’t want to rush things, and Izuku just got out of a really serious relationship, and really - they should be taking it slow. And this is the honeymoon phase - the other shoe will drop eventually. They can’t ride this high forever, right? 

But it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. 

They ride that high into months together. Months turn into years. 

Shouto can’t quite put his finger on it, but life with Izuku is different somehow. The days seem brighter, things are a little easier. 

He thinks maybe it’s because he’s got someone around who understands him. Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t have to worry about “what if” anymore. 

Or maybe, it’s because he’s helpless in love with Izuku Midoriya. Or, well. 

Something like that.

Chapter Text

Epilogue: 4 years later 

The day of their wedding is miraculously beautiful for the middle of monsoon season. They’d taken all of the proper precautions - prepared to be completely rained out of the stunning rooftop garden location that they’d chosen - but when the day comes there isn’t a cloud in sight. 

As if the universe had decided to create one day, one perfect day just for the two of them. Despite all of the rain they’d had all week, it’s not humid. It’s not moist or too hot or too sunny or windy - it’s just perfect . In every possible way, in every melodic note of the string instruments, in every stitch in the cream-colored tablecloths, it’s perfect. 

Izuku is ironing his shirt for what feels like the tenth time that morning when his phone rings. The familiar bubbly pop song that plays tells him that he’s getting a call from his maid of honor, and he answers without even looking at the caller ID. 

“Is it bad that I already want to throw out my entire suit and just buy a new one?” Izuku asks once the phone is properly jammed between his cheek and his shoulder. 

“You’re just nervous.” Ochaco replies with a soft and breathy laugh. “And your suit looks great,” she assures him, “which I already told you when I went with you to pick it out. And to get it fitted. And last night when you wore it around my apartment—“

“Right,” Izuku cuts her off, laughing along with her, “you’ve made your point.” 

“You’re going to look great. You both are.” 

“Well, yeah. Of course Shouto is going to look great. He always looks great.” Izuku finishes ironing the shirt and places it carefully back onto the hanger. 

“So do you.” Ochaco laughs again. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Izuku places the shirt into the garment bag with the rest of his charcoal grey, custom-made and specially-fitted suit. 

“It’s true.” She presses, “but that’s not why I called you.” 

“Oh?” Izuku notices the strain in her voice for the first time since answering the phone, and tries his best to calm his own anxiety as it bubbles to the surface. 

“So,” Ochaco sighs. “you know how I’ve been the best maid of honor in the whole entire world?” She leads with a question, never a good sign. “And how I’ve been on top of everything through this whole entire planning process?”

Two questions. 

“Uh huh…” Izuku says, unable to hide his apprehension. 

“Well, I might have made a teeny tiny mistake,” she admits, “super teeny tiny. Small. Really small.” 

“Ochaco.” Izuku pleads, “What happened?”

She lets out a sigh, “I double booked the pick up time with the flowers and the cake. And they’re on totally opposite side of the town and Tsu is already at the venue making sure things are being set up properly so she can’t help me with this--”

Izuku cuts her off, “Wait, that’s it?” he asks, feeling his entire body relax.

“Yeah.” She replies, guilty. 

“Ochaco, I thought you were going to tell me that the venue was on fire.” Izuku says, collapsing into the plush armchair in his living room. 

“Izuku, I wouldn’t open a phone call like that with small talk .” 

Izuku sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “So what do you want to do about the flowers and cake debacle?” 

“Well the flower shop is on your way to the venue,” she says apprehensively, “and I know it’s your wedding day and I’m sure the last thing that you want to do is run an errand, but—“

“Yeah, no problem.” Izuku says quickly.

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously.” Izuku stresses, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes. 

“Oh my god Izuku I’m so sorry I owe you one thousand drinks.” 

“Ochako, really, it’s fine,” Izuku laughs, “I’m marrying my best friend today. It has rained every single day for two weeks and by some miraculous happenstance it’s totally clear today.” He smiles. “It’s not a hassle for me to pay the universe back by taking this stress off of your shoulders. Just text me the address.” 

Izuku pulls up to the flower shop 30 minutes ahead of schedule. It’s a cute shop in a great part of town, built into an old stone building and overflowing with colorful plants pouring out of every window. For a moment, Izuku has a fleeting memory of time gone by - of a person he once knew and a dream for a flower shop just like this. 

He shakes the memory from his mind. Not today.  

Today is supposed to be perfect. 

When he goes inside, he feels even more nostalgic. It smells like fresh dirt and the air is moist and warm. There are glass display cases and plants of all different varieties arranged throughout the main room, wrapped bouquets meticulously sorted by color, type, size in basins at the foot of a tall cashwrap. The man standing behind the counter looks up when Izuku lets the door close behind him. 

The man is tall, dark-haired, and incredibly handsome. He’s wearing a tight plaid shirt that stretches and pulls over his muscular arms, rolled up to the elbows. He’s got a small beard and a well-kept haircut that’s shaved around the sides. When his hazel eyes meet Izuku’s green ones, he smiles. 

“Mr. Midoriya!” The man says, and Izuku recoils a little. Being a pro hero, he was used to people recognizing him without having to introduce himself, but it’s still a lot to handle when Izuku’s in his civies. 

“Hello,” Izuku introduces himself, stepping further into the shop and holding out his hand, “It’s great to meet you! I’m a bit early, I hope that’s okay.” 

“It’s perfectly fine!” The man takes Izuku’s hand firmly and smiles wider, teeth shining in the natural light of the store. “I just need to run in the back and finish wrapping everything up, do you mind waiting just a few moments? I’ll send my co-manager out to assist you with the rest of the paperwork and then we’re done.”

“Not a problem at all!” Izuku tells the man with a nod. He steps back from the counter and the man bows politely before stepping into the back room. He can hear the man speaking with someone, but he can’t make out the words being spoken. 

Izuku distracts himself by admiring a charming display of succulents over near the window of the store. The plants are thriving, plump green leaves and healthy soil. From the counter, a sharp intake of breath catches Izuku’s ear and he looks up. 

He almost falls over directly into the display. Because the co-manager is standing at the counter, staring directly at Izuku with mild surprise and balls of light shining around his head like a halo. When Izuku meets his eyes, the other man relaxes a bit and the balls of light disappear.

“H-Hikaru…” Izuku stumbles on the words, a queasy uneasiness filling his stomach and spreading through his veins like a sickness. Hikaru looks...good. His hair is longer now, pulled back in a blonde ponytail that drapes gently over his shoulder. He’s got new glasses, thicker frames with blue specks that compliment the sunshine gold of his eyes. 

The last time Izuku had seen Hikaru, those eyes had been filled with anger - furious fires burning with distaste, regret, and hatred. They’d bothered Izuku for a long time. 

But now, those eyes were looking at him softly. Understanding him in ways he’d always wished they’d understood him when they’d dated all of those years ago. He doesn’t look angry or resentful. He’s holding a potted lavender plant and he's smiling. 

“Hey, Izuku,” Hikaru says warmly. He places the plant down on the counter and meets Izuku’s eyes. “I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“U-Uh,” Izuku looks away. He feels his cheeks growing hot and his pulse quickens, “L-long time no see?”

“Yeah.” Hikaru agrees. A silence falls between them. It’s.

Awkward.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, the second hand bringing attention to the time that’s passing between them. Five seconds, twenty seconds, four years .  

“How uh…” Izuku begins, his voice loud, too loud , in the silence. “How have you been?”

Hikaru hesitates for a moment, “I’ve been…” he starts, voice low, “amazing. Actually.” 

Izuku pulls his eyes away from the orchid plant he’s been staring at and looks up. Hikaru is smiling at him. He’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed gently across his chest and smiling at Izuku with a fondness that had not been there the last time they’d spoken. 

Izuku feels his body relax and returns the smile. 

“Really?” He asks, feeling his heart slow, “Thats…” he tries to think of the right word. How do you even describe the way it feels to find out that the ex you thought you’d destroyed has moved on and found happiness? “ Awesome .”

The tension that Izuku had noticed building between them starts to disappear, and it gets a little easier to talk. 

“Yeah, my uh,” Hikaru continues, “my husband and I own this shop together.” He gestures around the shop broadly. 

“Your--” Izuku gasps, remembering the kind-faced man who’d greeted him when he walked into the shop. “Oh! Oh, was, was that…?”

Hikaru nods. “Yeah. His name’s Ritsuka,” He explains, laughing lightly and smiling growing. There’s a look on his face that makes Izuku feel warm, “we met a few months after you and I broke up and really hit it off. We got married last April.” 

“Hikaru that’s...that’s amazing!” Izuku says brightly, “I’m so happy for you.”

And he means it. 

He’s so happy that Hikaru has found someone that loves him. Someone that appreciates him and understands him and can give him everything that Izuku couldn’t. 

“Thanks.” Hikaru smiles and offers a small nod in Izuku’s direction. He’s quiet for a minute and then he glances down at Izuku’s left hand. “So uh, I take it things worked out with Shouto?”

Izuku falters a little, still unsure how to approach the situation, but decides that if Hikaru is already happily married there’s no point in being dishonest about his own happiness. 

“Yeah, we’re actually uh…” he lets out a breath, saying it still doesn’t feel real ,“getting married today.” 

Hikaru doesn’t react. His smile doesn’t falter or fade. He keeps looking at Izuku like an old friend, honey-colored eyes searching Izuku’s expression carefully. 

“Yeah,” He says finally, rolling his eyes slightly. “I know. I work here.” 

He laughs, “You should have seen my face when Ritsuka told me we were filling out an order for the Midoriya-Todoroki wedding.” 

Izuku laughs as well and feels his cheeks grow hot. “Oh man, I’m really sorry. I didn’t realize that this shop was--”

Hikaru waves his hand in defense. “No, no,” He explains, “It’s okay. Really.” He pauses for a moment and chews on his bottom lip. He seems unsure about what he wants to say next, or how he wants to approach the subject. After a few seconds, he meets Izuku’s eyes once more with a smile. “I’m glad actually. And I’m really glad you came to pick up the order.”

This surprises Izuku. 

“Why?” He asks. 

“Because uh, oh man this is really awkward.” Hikaru lets out a breath slowly and glances away. “But uh, because the last time we spoke I was...really harsh with my choice of words.” 

Izuku feels his chest constrict slightly at the memory. “You had every right--”

Hikaru shakes his head. “No. I didn’t.” He explains, “I was hurt and I said really cruel things to you about your relationship and about you as a person and at the time felt right but then…” Hikaru meets Izuku’s eyes again, golden irises blazing like small suns. He’s wearing an expression that isn’t unfamiliar to Izuku - he looks...sad. “Like a week after, I just felt horrible about everything I said. About everything that happened between us.” 

Izuku doesn’t know what to say. “Hikaru…”

Hikaru stops him before he can continue. He’s talking fast, desperate to get his words out. “And I just really wanted to clear the air between us. Because I watch the news, and every time there’s a story about you or live coverage and I see you in danger or see a report that you’re being hospitalized...I just wonder if the last thing I’ll have ever said to you would be that you’re a horrible person. And I don’t think that. I didn’t even think it back then I was just so angry and so...so…”

“Hurt.”

“Yes.”

Izuku frowns. He isn’t a stranger to the anxieties that loving a pro hero can cause someone. He knows how it feels to sit by a television screen feeling helpless, to watch your friends risk their lives in battles that they might not come home from. That was part of going to school with classmates who wanted to become heroes - Izuku never knew when the last time he’d see someone would be. 

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Izuku says, “I know I said it then, and I meant it, but I still mean it now. I’m sorry about how things went down between us.”

Hikaru nods, “I’m sorry too,” He smiles at Izuku gently. “I’m not sorry about our relationship and I’m not sorry that it ended, I’m just...sorry that everything ended the way it did.”

Izuku returns the smile. It’s strange, really, how good it feels to talk to Hikaru. “Me too.” 

Hikaru remembers that he was sent out to complete paperwork with Izuku and pulls out a clipboard from under the counter with a form for Izuku to sign. Izuku completes it and makes small talk with Hikaru - about the shop, about the area of town, about the succulents in the display case and how...healthy, they look. 

“Alrighty, you’re all set Mr.Midoriya!” Ritsuka re-enters the room from the back, his apron dusted with dirt. “The flowers are loaded into your car and ready to go.”

“Thank you so much.” Izuku slides the clipboard to Hikaru across the counter. 

“Oh it’s our pleasure,” Ritsukua glances at the clock, “but you should get going. You don’t want to be late to your own wedding.”

“Yes.” Izuku straightens up, “Thank you again.” He bows and heads towards the exit. 

As he’s at the door, pulling it open and jingling the bell at the top, he pauses and turns around. “It was good to see you again, Hikaru.” 

Hikaru beams at him and nods, “Congratulations on the wedding.”

“Thank you.” 

As Izuku is stepping out, Hikaru adss, “Tell Shouto I said hey.”

“I will,” Izuku says with a laugh, feeling weightless,  “good luck. With everything.” 

“You too.” 

“Oh thank god you got them Izuku. I’m so sorry that I had you do that, seriously.” Ochaco runs to Izuku’s car in her heels, chestnut hair styled and hairsprayed in an elaborate bun. 

“It’s okay, it wasn’t a problem,” Izuku assures her as they start pulling boxes of bouquets and carefully wrapped centerpieces from the car, “did you uh...Did you know that it was Hikaru’s flower shop?”

Ochaco pauses, “I’m sorry, what?”

“The shop. Where we ordered the flowers. Did you know that it was owned by Hikaru?” Izuku isn’t trying to be accusatory, and he’s pretty sure that he already knows the answer but. He asks anyway.

“Your ex?!” Ochaco seems genuinely shocked. She touches the boxes and floats them using her quirk. 

“Yeah.” Izuku shuts the trunk. 

“No! What? Are you serious?” She counts the boxes and starts heading into the venue. Izuku follows and smirks at her. 

“So you didn’t know?”

“No! Izuku, I swear I had no idea!” She holds the door open and floats the boxes in like balloons. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay!” Izuku assures her, “Seriously it’s okay! I was just wondering if you’d sent me there today on purpose.”

She narrows her eyes at him and puts her free hand on her hip. “Why would I do that?”

Izuku shrugs, “To give me closure?”

They walk in and head towards the bridal suite. 

“Did you get closure?”

Izuku smiles at her, the weightless feeling still holding him up from earlier. “I did.” 

“Well it wasn’t my doing. Though I’d totally take credit for that if I could.” Once the flower boxes are placed on a table in the corner of the room, Ochaco sinks into a chair in the immaculate (and honestly kind of gaudy) bridal suite. She’s been Izuku’s biggest cheerleader through the entire planning process and has taken a lot of responsibility upon herself. She’s Izuku’s best friend, and he’s so incredibly thankful for her. 

They’re quiet for a minute, before Ochacho clears her throat and asks:  “So you guys...talked?”

Izuku sighs and joins her in sitting, sinking low into an incredibly plush armchair. “Yeah. He’s...happy. Or at least he seems it.”

Ochaco grins, “Izuku that’s great!”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “I mean...it’s just nice to know that we didn’t spend all of this time hating each other over something that wouldn’t have lasted. That we moved on, and we’re happy now.”

“And you are?” Ochaco asks this question quietly, softly setting it on the table and pushing it towards Izuku. “Happy, that is?”

“Yes,” Izuku answers easily,  “Happier than I’ve ever been.”