Archive of Our Own ^beta

For as long as Midoriya Izuku could remember, being a hero was more about the way they made people feel than their actual deeds. That isn’t to say that the rescues, the daring villain battles, the incredible feats of strength and intelligence weren’t worthwhile, or weren’t significant aspects of hero work, but woven through those things was the merit that they derive based on the way that they inspire people.

Make them feel safe, secure.

Valuable.

For just as long, All Might was the embodiment of that facet of hero work. In the young boy’s shining, hopeful eyes, All Might’s most impressive trait was that he managed to save hundreds, thousands, without ever dropping his characteristically shining grin.

And so it wasn’t surprising that All Might managed to inspire him simply by existing in a certain place, at a certain time, wearing his trademark smile and a designer, rainbow version of his hero costume.

Midoriya had watched, riveted to his computer screen, fifteen years old, when All Might appeared in dramatic fashion. The air of Tokyo Pride was split by a dramatic “I AM HERE!”, the crowd instantly erupting into cheers and wild applause as the iconic Number-One Hero landed with expert finesse on his own float and, just like that, All Might came out to the world and changed the gay landscape forever.

Midoriya, closeted, cried tears of overwhelmed joy that All Might – his idol – was like him.

***

In the weeks that followed, the joy of All Might’s coming out was tinged with the silent dread that his popularity would take a hit in the wake of his reveal. Midoriya felt that certainly such a bold declaration, especially in a relatively conservative country, was a mistake in terms of the hero’s career, and people wordlessly prepared to bid farewell to the leading hero.

That didn’t happen. Sure, All Might was inundated with interviews, speculation, questions of all kinds (including many that were, frankly, too invasive) and yet Midoriya’s hero persevered with his characteristic joy, enthusiasm, poise.

A couple months later, Midoriya came out to his mom.

In the days following his decision and leading up to the actual confession, he may have dramatized it in his head. The young man had a brain that worked at a hundred miles per hour, and it supplied scenario after scenario, at once planning how it would go down and also exaggerating what the end result would be.

Would he make a big deal out of it, get a rainbow cake and some glitter and a crazy outfit and surprise her? Would he be too shy to say it in person and leave it to a text? No, that isn’t what All Might would do, and if I want to be like him I need to confront things head-on –

Would she be angry? Would she judge him? Would it even matter? Knowing his mother, Midoriya was certain she would cry, and the crux of the whole thing was this: what kind of tears would they be?

As it was, his coming out was relatively… uneventful. He came home from school – the soft and warm light of the late afternoon coming in through their living room window bathed their small apartment in the kind of safe and comfortable atmosphere that he would always associate with his mother, and it was then that he had a startlingly lucid revelation:

              I trust mom. She loves me. She deserves to know, and I deserve the chance to be honest with her.

As if on cue the door had swung open in that precise moment, his mother’s gentle alto announcing that she was home from work as she swept into the room carrying a bag of groceries. Midoriya, standing in the kitchen, had swallowed his nerves and, acting on this sudden feeling of clarity, had sat her down and told her.

There was only a single instant of quiet that followed his announcement, but it was still enough to have his heart racing.

Oh no. I messed up. Is she mad? She’s definitely gonna cry, I can see her eyes watering up, oh no oh no –

“Oh, Izu, honey,” was all she said before she swept him into a warm hug and, the two of them being so alike, had both started to cry.

They were happy tears.

He should have known that she would accept him; hell, she wasn’t even particularly fazed by the fact that her son was gay so much as she cried happy tears at his willingness to be unapologetically himself, his willingness to trust her.

***

A few days later, riding on the emotional high of his coming out to his mom, he decided to tell the other most important person in his life.

His relationship to Katsuki might have morphed over time as the two of them changed from enthusiastic, naïve children into developing young adults trying to navigate the sheer weirdness of growing up, but they had remained steadfast friends, always. Katsuki would never say this to Izuku’s face, but he found the other teen to be calming. Grounding, in a way that the volatile young man desperately needed. Where Katsuki was explosive strength, raw talent and potential unleashed in a way that very fittingly matched his Quirk, Izuku was the quiet, the calm, the restful presence in which Katsuki could allow himself the same.

This is why Katsuki found himself spending most of his after noons at Izuku’s, studying.

On this particular afternoon he was draped across Izuku’s bed, laying on his side with his head propped up on one hand while the other held the textbook open in front of him. He scanned it easily, occasionally setting the book down so his hand could move to the workbook next to it and write out a response.

Izuku couldn’t really focus on maths – he was too twitchy, nervous energy coiled in his stomach, gaze flitting to his friends every so often while he sized up the moment; the energy, the context, Katsuki’s mood, it all needed to be right if he was going to say something so important-

“Oi nerd,” his friend’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts. “Get to work. If you fall behind then it’s your own damn fault.”

“L-language, Kachan,” Izuku admonished only out of reflex; they both knew he didn’t particularly care about the blonde’s cursing.

With the silence broken, albeit temporarily, Izuku decided that it was now or never. He had to get it out of his system before the room was once again draped in the customary silence of studying, and he only had a narrow window of time to do it.

So he had blurted it out, the admission much less tactful that his imagination had led him to believe it would be.

Kachan’s response had been a nonchalant tch, I knew, nerd, now let me study, but his expression had softened and his intelligent, perceptive red eyes had lingered on the oblivious, emerald-eyed teen for a silent beat before drifting back to his trig textbook.

***

Nothing much changed until nearly a year later. Midoriya’s having come out to the two most important people in his life had such a startlingly small impact on his day-to-day life that it slipped from his mind almost completely. Soon after his confession he and Katsuki became more intent on their training to enter U.A. than ever, both becoming absorbed into demanding physical, nutritional, and academic regimes that dominated their schedules and made the months leading up to the exam feel as if they were only a matter of days.

In an unexpected way the process brought the two of them closer together than ever. They worked out together, trained together, studied together. Both of them (Midoriya included, even if he would never admit it) were inherently competitive and having the other’s presence drove them to improve, to adapt, to grow in leaps and bounds. Neither of them ever missed a morning run, afternoon lifting, or an evening spent studying in Izuku’s room.

Which is why Izuku found it really strange when, on a Sunday afternoon he left for the gym and didn’t find Katsuki there. He waited, absentmindedly stretching while on a lookout for his friend and rival. He didn’t show up, and Izuku didn’t have any notifications on his phone, and so he set out to begin his workout.

Except, his mind chose to fixate on where Katsuki was instead of his workout and he opted instead to head home. Maybe Katsuki was at home?

Is Kachan sick? I wonder why he didn’t text me. That isn’t like him.

Anxiety sank into his gut like a lead ball, deeper the more he thought on why Katsuki could be missing.

Did he say anything about it yesterday? Did I miss something?

He jogged from the gym back to his house, hastily throwing the door open when he entered, calling as he went: “Mom? Have you heard from Kachan? He didn’t show up at the gy-”

“Quit shouting, nerd, and get ready.”

Izuku froze in the doorway to his room; Katsuki was there, in a rainbow tank top and white shorts. A white-and-red-striped headband held back his spiky mane of blonde hair and multicolored chalk looked to have been smeared across his cheeks like warpaint.

“What’re you staring at?” the tone behind the question held more nerves than anger, and anyone less well-acquainted with Katsuki wouldn’t have identified the subtle tics that gave away his apparent anxiety.

“U-uh, I’m not staring, I’m just, uh…” Izuku couldn’t quite focus as his eyes roamed his friend’s outfit, his brain racing to figure out if there was something he was missing. There was a crucial bit of information somewhere that he must have forgotten, or-

“Just get changed,” Katsuki said as he retrieved a small stack of neatly folded clothes from the bed and thrust it into Izuku’s arms before moving to take a seat at Izuku’s desk and stare firmly at the wall. “Make it quick so we can get on our way already, shit.”

What on earth –

Izuku set the clothes on the bed and picked up the item at the top of the stack – a piece of All Might merchandise that he had seen online a couple weeks ago. It was white, featuring his logo in rainbow colors – on the back was text that read “SYMBOL OF PEACE. SYMBOL OF LOVE.” In bold, stylized, multicolored font.

He hastily stripped his gym shirt, tossing it to the bed and slipping on the All Might shirt and then eyeing the second item: a pair of green shorts with rainbow stripes along the side seams. He put it on as well, focusing on the physical process of changing so that his brain wouldn’t short-circuit itself with the surreal nature of Katsuki showing up unannounced (which wasn’t that strange) bearing an assortment of rainbow clothing and acting incredibly suspicious.

What the hell is going on?!

“Are you done yet?” Katsuki tried to come across as harsh, but Izuku could read the impatience, nerves and… excitement? In his tone.

“Y-yeah Kachan, I’m done,” he responded as he hastily finished pulling up the shorts that he discovered were green denim and entirely too short, not even halfway covering his thighs, short enough that the pocket bags poked out slightly beyond the hem. Izuku opted to tuck in the shirt; otherwise, the hem of the shirt almost completely obscured the shorts, making it look as if he wasn’t wearing anything underneath the shirt. Once that was done, he was much more satisfied with the way it looked.

 “What exactly is going on – um-” that last was more of a squeak as he turned to find Katsuki incredibly near to him, the sweet scent of nitroglycerin prominent as the blonde stepped into his personal space. His hands were held up, fingers dusted in the same multicolored chalk that decorated his own face.

“Hold the fuck on and hold still,” Katsuki’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he held a hand up, Izuku stilling as he realized what his friend was doing. Katsuki dragged a hand across Izuku’s right cheek, fingertips leaving trails in green, blue, indigo and violet. He did the same with the other hand, this time marking his skin in green, yellow, orange and red.

There was a moment where they both held still, adrenaline flooding the smaller teen’s veins as Katsuki simply looked at him, seeming to examine his own handiwork for a minute. It was something so small, so simple, and yet the air was momentarily charged with something that Izuku could feel, but couldn’t identify.

Katsuki swallowed thickly and stepped back, breaking whatever… that was and swiping his hands on his shorts, uncaring of the multicolored chalk he left on his thighs. He looked over Izuku one more then moved abruptly to the bed, grabbing a bag that he slung over his shoulder. “Come on,” came the abrupt command before he shoved Izuku’s door open and led him out into the living room.

“Where are we going?” Izuku practically whined, even though he still followed the temperamental blonde.

“Goddamnit, just. If you haven’t figured out yet, you’ll just have to fuckin’ wait til we get there!” Katsuki barked and led Izuku from the house.

***

I am literally so dumb, Izuku thought once it finally, finally snapped into place where they were going. It was astounding to him, really, that it had taken him so long.

In fact, it’s a testament to how hard he had been concentrated on his training that he hadn’t even really noticed the date approaching, had been totally oblivious to all the posts on social media, in advertising. He hadn’t figured it out until they got off the train, walked a couple blocks, and he literally saw the street lined with rainbow floats and an incredibly dense, colorful crowd of people.

“K-kachan…” he began as he stopped in his tracks, one hand moving to cup over his mouth. His eyes were watering already but he held the incoming tears back through a feat of willpower – he didn’t want to ruin the chalk that Katsuki had put there. “We’re going to pride?!”

“Tch. Took you long enough, nerd,” Katsuki turned to look at his overwhelmed companion. “Come on,” he added, grabbing Izuku by one hand and leading him into the crowd and making way for them to line up at the very front, directly along the cordoned-off parade route.

If Izuku weren’t already overwhelmed by all that he was seeing he might have noticed how Katsuki had hesitated, anxious, before reaching for his hand. How tightly the blonde had held onto his, and how the other’s nerves had seemed to dissipate when Izuku didn’t pull back.

The emerald-eyed teen was fully taking in the music, the colors, the people, the energy. He watched videos from Pride Parades held around the year, every year, hoping desperately that one day he could feel a sense of belonging in a community and celebrate it alongside everyone, but it had never occurred to him that it was a very real, very feasible possibility for him.

Beyond that, he would never dream that Katsuki would bring him here.

“Kachan,” his voice held all the wonder he felt as he dragged his eyes from the sights around him and back to the one who had brought him here. “I c-can’t believe… this is incredible. I can’t…” whatever he was saying drifted from his mind as he noticed how Katsuki’s red eyes were focused on his, how the blonde didn’t seem to give a damn about anything going on around them, how his attention was solely on Izuku.

“I, uh, didn’t know how to tell you, and.” Katsuki looked down suddenly, pausing, before swallowing and looking back up. “ ‘Zuku, I should’ve fuckin’ told you sooner, but I was a coward and kept avoiding it, but I couldn’t let this pass by without telling you. I, uh…” he paused again, looking into the forever oblivious green eyes that peered back. He relaxed, taking a deep breath.

Katsuki decided then that fuckit, he may not be the best with words, but actions are where it counts anyway.

He leaned forward abruptly, the hand holding Izuku’s tightening reflexively and placing a swift kiss on Izuku’s lips. It lasted only a split second, but Katsuki could swear he felt something powerful in the instant their lips met despite how tame the kiss was – it was something that coursed through his body like lightning, threatening to detonate his quirk with the force of it lighting his every nerve ending.

When he leaned back to gauge Izuku’s reaction, he was struck by just how much emotion the other could convey in a simple look. When understanding finally, finally dawned in Izuku’s eyes his lips stretched into a wide, excited grin, his entire expression lighting up with so much joy, so much love, and Katsuki felt that moment suspended in time until Izuku practically launched himself forward, arms wrapping around the taller boy’s neck and burying his face in the crook of Katsuki’s shoulder.

“Kachan…” Izuku whined, finally unable to contain his tears as he squeezed tight.

              The blonde released the pent-up breath in his chest, settling his arms around the other boy.

              “Happy Pride, ‘Zuku.”