Chapter Text
I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills
'Til the landslide brought me down
Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?
Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Mmm
Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm gettin' older, too
Landslide, Fleetwood Mac
Izuku blankly stares at his phone, feeling his heart crumbling down once more.
Kacchan:
Can't make it, nerd.
Something came up at work.
Izuku:
No problem, Kacchan!
See u next Friday then :)
"Tea or coffee?" Ochako asks from the kitchen.
"Soju," Izuku grumbles, rubbing his temples as he reads the text.
Some dull (but still heavy enough to sting) object hits him in the back of the head. Izuku shrieks, and picks up the empty oat milk carton box from where it fell into the cushions, staring at it in disbelief.
"Did you just throw your fake milk at me?"
Ochako reemerges from the kitchen with two mugs in hand and sits beside him on the couch, offering him one steaming cup of chai.
She hums. "You have school tomorrow, you can't drink."
Izuku leaves the mug on the coffee table and groans, slumping into the cushions of Ochako's fluffy baby pink couch. "I'm gonna go insane."
"He bailed on you again?"
"Yeah."
"You two need to talk," Ochako says, shooting him a look. "Desperately."
"How can I talk to him if he doesn't want to see me?" he murmurs, "Maybe he finally realized I'm not worth the trouble."
After what happened during the war, Izuku was so scared that Katsuki would turn his back on him. Izuku had failed to do everything he swore he would after all. He had left the battlefield empty-handed and with a fracture in his being that he never figured out how to fix, even 8 years later. Katsuki was so much better than that. They both knew it.
But against all odds, Kacchan had stayed. And sometimes Izuku felt like their friendship was a band-aid he would have to rip off sooner or later. And the more he waited, the more it would hurt.
Ochako hits him in the back of the head again.
"Ow, ow, ow," He cries out, making a show of rubbing the spot.
"Can you stop your pity party for a second?" She hisses, raising an accusing thin brow at him. "Izuku, I know you're smarter than that, honey. Bakugou adores you as much as his grumpy ass can love anybody. There must be something else going on."
"I don't think-"
"When did this start?" she prods, getting closer to him on the couch like a kid trying to solve a mystery. "When do you feel like he started avoiding you?"
Izuku hates that he knows. Because it had been that obvious.
He sighs and looks up to the fan hanging still from the ceiling. His throat hurts. "After the last class reunion," he says, still not looking at her. "When he asked me to join his agency."
Izuku did the right thing, which was refusing the invitation.
He couldn't compete with Katsuki anymore, but he was still nice enough to offer him a spot next to him. Izuku is so proud of him. Kacchan has matured so much, has grown into everything Izuku always knew he could be, and so much more.
He chose to keep his arm over a prosthetic, which meant he would have to do ten times the amount of work to regain his mobility and control. But the subject of his arm was completely secondary when it came to his heart. He had to go under a 15-hour surgery that had Izuku camping outside the operating room along with his parents and his mom. When the doctors came out with a smile, Izuku started crying in relief before he could even speak. Katsuki's heart and arm would never be the same again, but Katsuki was determined to make the most of it anyway. In less than two years, he had recovered almost completely, shocking doctors and specialists in equal measure. But Izuku wasn't surprised. They didn't know Kacchan as he did.
As soon as he could start hero work again, Best Jeanist had a spot ready for him as a sidekick at his agency, which Kacchan took without a second thought. But they were war veterans. Of course, Kacchan was given the option to jump straight to doing solo hero work instead of interning as a sidekick, and so were all of his classmates and class B. But Kacchan surprised them and took Jeanist's offer, and he stayed under his wing for well over a year. So, as Izuku went to university to become a teacher, Kacchan worked as a sidekick.
Yet by the time Izuku graduated, Kacchan had already started his solo career. And he was killing it.
Izuku couldn't repay his kindness by setting him back and forcing him to wait for him to catch up when Katsuki still had all this mind-blowing potential. Izuku would only be in his way.
Kacchan drew a very clear line between them that night. And what started like a seemingly harmless crack in the ground began feeling like a bottomless abyss that only grew more and more each day.
Knowing him, Izuku's been trying to give Katsuki space. But things weren't going anywhere.
Little by little, their weekly dinners started being fewer and further apart.
"Have a meeting."
"I'm late on paperwork."
"Meeting with my parents."
Izuku just coerced a taut smile and said something along the lines of "Oh. Okay, Kacchan, next week, then!"
But next week never came. They haven't hung out outside work and mutual friends' gatherings in a while now.
Kacchan is his best friend— or, um, was. Oh, what a painful thought. In a way, Izuku had gotten spoiled. After he got One For All, for the first time in his life, it felt like Kacchan was finally within his reach, like an equal, like a friend.
Then it all went down the drain. Everything Izuku had worked for, literally breaking his bones and body over and over again to fulfill this void that was left in the world when All Might passed down the baton to him.
But life doesn't wait for anyone.
By the time Izuku understood he could be his own person while still following All Might's footsteps, that he could live up to his own version of what a true hero should be, when he finally, finally started getting the grasp of what his purpose in life might have been, his quirk was gone.
And a part of Izuku died with the last ember when the flame flickered out.
He thought he didn't have much more to lose… until Kacchan started pulling away and his codependent ass felt like dying all over again.
"The night we reconnected?" Ochako asks, surprised.
Izuku nods. "It was actually his idea."
Her eyes widen. "He told you to go after me? Really?"
"Something like that."
Kacchan's words from that night come back to him.
"I think it's about time for you to start thinking more highly of yourself," Katsuki said from the driver's seat. He wasn't looking at him. Kacchan had kept his eyes fixed on the road and his voice flat. The car became dead silent, thick with a tension even Kirishima could sense.
Before Katsuki spoke his next words, Izuku briefly caught his piercing stare in the rear-view mirror. And his eyes seemed redder than ever before, swallowing Izuku whole. Kacchan looked away.
"Otherwise, you won't notice what's right in front of you."
He had been confused at first. Then his eyes landed on Ochako during the class reunion, and it suddenly made sense somehow.
He had to stop wallowing, touch some damn grass, and go back into the world.
He was overjoyed to be able to reconnect with Ochako after that night. Despite everything, she had been one of his dearest friends. He'd like to say he doesn't know why they lost contact in the first place, but that wouldn't be true. The wounds the war had left in their souls were horribly similar, after all.
A lot has changed since then, so feeling the warmth of an old friendship blossom to life was like medicine for Izuku's soul. A much-needed breath of fresh air.
Her presence was comforting, familiar in a way Izuku didn't know he desperately needed until he felt it. Yet, in equal measure, her company made something deeply rooted in Izuku's gut stir.
He would have loved to take it as a love bug, but there was only so much lying Izuku could do to himself.
He'd never been worried about dating, even less disposed of the time to do it. Meeting someone so intimately sounds like a very time-consuming thing to do, not to mention emotionally draining. Izuku doesn't feel like he's up for that. He's got enough on his plate, thank you very much.
His mind drifts to the people he already knows. And fleetly, in the fraction of a second it takes for him to get some self-control, his mind sets on Kacchan first. But it can't be.
Neither him and Ochako. They shared lingering glances and soft smiles after long talks, but behind them, there was nothing more than friendly affection, born many years ago from mutual admiration, then transformed in their adulthood into profound empathy.
The only thing that doesn't change is that everything changes, Izuku bitterly thinks to himself.
"That was… nice of him, I guess," Ochako mumbles, sipping on her chai with a contemplative face. She doesn't seem entirely convinced of what Izuku is saying, though. He can tell by the deepening wrinkle between her brows. Something doesn't sit right with her, and it's about to become Izuku's problem. "I wouldn't have expected that from him."
"Why?" Izuku tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy. "I've mentioned I missed our friends a few times before to him. I think he was just pushing me to do something about it. Reconnect with everyone and get back on my feet, you know?"
"Yeah, but why me?" she insists, wrinkling her nose. "I would have bet he would have mentioned Shouto or Iida before me."
"Hm, we still meet for drinks and stuff somewhat often. After Kacchan, they're the two people I keep the most contact with, probably." Izuku says. "Besides, he didn't precisely say your name," he admits, pensive and in a quiet voice. "But he didn't have to, you know? When I saw you during dinner, I just knew."
Ochako stares at him.
She looks at him like she's trying to X-ray him with a quirk she doesn't have (as far as Izuku knows). It makes Izuku squirm, but for some reason, he can't avert his eyes from hers. He sips his mug and pretends the floating tea bag in the water is the most interesting thing in the room.
"Izuku-kun, don't be weird about this, but" she suddenly says, making a weird face herself. "But can you kiss me?"
Izuku, of course, does the only reasonable thing at the moment, which is choking on his drink.
"Ocha-," he coughs, desperately trying to get some air into his lungs, "what?!"
She gets up and fetches some napkins before sitting back down on the couch with an unreadable look, handing one to Izuku.
"I just want to test something! Just trust me, please?"
"Ochako…"
"You don't have to," she replies. "But if you agree… I think it can help your problem with Bakugou."
"Ochako," Izuku repeats, trying to appear as calm as possible despite feeling his nerves frying in real time like meat on a grill. "You know I trust you, most times, when you don't have that crazy look in your eyes— yes, exactly that one. But I don't see how this, of all things, can help my perishing friendship with Kacchan."
Deep down, it terrifies him to be the reason their friendship goes cold again because he was 26 years old, and he couldn't get his shit together. What if everyone were right? People always teased him and Ochako when they were together, saying how great a couple they could make.
What if that was what Kacchan meant that night?
"You know I only want the best for you. I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't convinced."
She's staring at him with big pleading eyes, and they are as determined as they are sweet. It makes Izuku bite the inside of his cheek hard enough to nearly draw blood.
He gawks at Ochako, still waiting for his answer with a serious expression, hands clutching her skirt.
Fuck it.
He closes his eyes, and his chapped lips are pressed on hers in an instant. She squeals, surprised, but doesn't move away.
It's not like Izuku is an experienced kisser or anything, not by any means, but he still knows the basics. Yet, both are stiff as boards.
Neither of them does much besides awkwardly trying to move their lips together, and after a painful bunch of seconds, Izuku leans away.
Ochako blinks at him.
Izuku gulps. "Uh, that was-"
"Interesting."
"Yeah, interesting." He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.
They look at each other in silence. The clock ticks on the wall, an ambulance passes by the window, and the dishwasher beeps.
Ochako's lips purse into a funny grimace, and her hand can't fly to her face fast enough to hold in the snort that follows.
Like magic, all the tension melts off his shoulders, and Izuku cracks a smile that ends up unraveling into a snort of his own.
They stare at each other and burst into a fit of laughter. Ochako laughs so much she gets tears in the corners of her eyes, and Izuku's belly starts hurting after a while.
Between breathy giggles, she manages to wheeze, "That was so fucking awful."
Izuku cackles, panting. "You asked for it!"
"God, let's never do that again, shall we?" She shakes her head, a big grin on her face.
He smiles. "Never again."
"Tell Bakugou we kissed, and it was horrible."
"I still don't understand what he has to do with the atrocity we just committed."
"Just…," she trails off, clearly thinking something she isn't planning on sharing. Not quite mischievous, but secretive. Amused and somehow pleased with herself, she says, "Girl instincts. He'd like to know."
Izuku gives her a weird look but lets it go. His mind is too occupied for him to worry about it anymore.
"Alright."
Ochako slumps back into the sofa with a sigh, hands resting on her stomach and eyes lost somewhere on the black TV screen on the wall.
Izuku feels comfortable in the silence, no nagging need to fill in the blanks. So he remains quiet, a little lost inside his head, thinking of everything and nothing. He had become quite familiar with Ochako's place (since it was much better than his own). Izuku had drunkenly spent the night on her couch more than once.
"I'm glad we got that out of the way," Ochako suddenly says. She isn't looking his way, gaze still distant, thoughtful. She smirks a little, but it doesn't reach her eyes.
"Mh, yeah."
"It's so silly now," she shakes her head, making her bangs fall over her eyes. "To even think that we could be anything other than this," she waves her hand around between them.
Izuku laughs. "We had to give it a shot," he jokingly says, softly bumping their shoulders together.
Everyone seemed to think so, at least.
Ochako doesn't laugh, but rather turns to stare at him with a strange look in her big eyes.
"Why?"
Izuku frowns, spine straightening. "Why what?"
"Why did we have to give it a shot?" The giddy atmosphere is gone, and a serious Ochako is always unnerving. It makes Izuku itch all over. "Just because we've been friends for a long time? Or because I had a crush on you in high school?" She clicks her tongue and looks away again with a grimace. "That's so simplistic. Love is so much more than that."
Once again, red, heart-stopping, imperious eyes flash across his mind, and it feels like he's being haunted by the ghost of someone who is just a phone call away.
"Do you think we wouldn't have worked out?"
"I mean, on a superficial level, maybe. But we would have never experienced that world-stopping form of love for each other," she gazes at him again. "You know, the kind that makes you do crazy things you wouldn't do for anyone else."
Izuku remembers an inert body lying on a pool of blood in the grass, and he recalls time stopping. His mind shutting down and his heart taking over, blind rage and the thirst for violence burning him alive like the very flames of hell.
"I know," is all Izuku can muster.
"Besides," she continues, straightening her posture on the couch. Ochako stares down at him with knowing eyes, and her voice is quiet but certain when she says, "I've never been the one you wanted."
Izuku swallows around nothing, and his heart accelerates. His nails dig into the meat of his thigh. Izuku doesn't reply because there is nothing to say. Ochako isn't asking for a confirmation. Her mouth curls slightly upwards, and she shrugs. "It's okay, you're not the one I want either."
At that, Izuku softens, concerned. He slowly reaches out to take her hand from her lap and hold it in his. It's so small, yet not delicate. Soft and warm. "Ochako…"
She squeezes his hand and places her other hand on top of his. Her grasp is solid, almost painful for Izuku's permanently sore joints. Her eyes are shiny and earnest. Izuku doesn't need to ask who she is talking about.
"I can't make it right anymore, not how I should have done it," She says. "Himiko is gone, and I'm learning to live with that even when all I can think about is that it should have been me instead. But for some reason, I'm still here, and I want to make the most of it. For her, and for everyone like her. One day, my life will stop feeling like a burden, and yours will too."
Ochako turns her whole body so she can face him. Izuku notices then the bags under her eyes, and that her cheeks aren't as round anymore— they haven't been for a while. She looks exactly like she did when they were 15, an old friend with a school uniform, big eyes, and a kind yet resolute expression. And somehow she also looks like a completely different person. She probably feels like one, too.
Nostalgia is as familiar as it is puncturing.
"But Izuku, you can still make it right," she claims. And Izuku sees the Ochako at her lowest, who passes out from exhaustion in her office, and dreams of the girl she couldn't save. "Bakugou is still here. Do you know what I would give to have what you have?"
Izuku represses a pained sound.
"You can't say that to me, Ochako," he murmurs, shaking his head to keep his eyes from watering. "It's not fair. Kacchan and me- you know it's not the same."
"I know it's complicated, but it doesn't mean it's impossible." Her voice trembles a little when she adds, "Only death is permanent, but it still didn't stop him from coming back to you."
Izuku's heart aches for her. They were just two kids forced to grow up too fast, thrown into a war they had nothing to do with, and then left alone to cope with the aftermath of all the destruction they saw. The destruction of any chance they had to grow up as normal people.
Izuku smiles, a little sad, but so fond. He brushes his thumb over the back of her hand. "She would be so proud of you."
Tears well in her eyes. She smiles back. "I just want you to be happy."
"I know."
They stay in silence after that, comfortable but not precisely light. At some point, Izuku reaches for the TV control to put on a movie he knows she likes in low volume as Ochako leans her head on his shoulder. She dozes off halfway into the movie, and Izuku leaves her apartment after covering her with a blanket and leaving a glass of water and an aspirin on the coffee table.
When he gets home, the ungraded pile of tests on his table laughs at him, making him let out a heavy sigh before he dejectedly drags his feet over to his pantry to toss some instant ramen into his microwave and at least have something to eat as he suffers the consequences of his neglected responsibilities.
He doesn't want to think. His head hurts, and his heart feels heavy. This will distract him enough for now.
He plops down on his couch and orders the stack of paper. He picks up his red marker and fishes the answer key out of his backpack on the floor.
He manages to grade at least half the exams before passing out cold.
Izuku didn't drink yesterday, but the emotional hangover feels just as shitty.
Izuku groans as he rolls around and buries his face into the pillow, trying to shield himself from the sunlight hitting his closed eyelids, making everything seem too bright, too early.
Except that the sun isn't usually this up when he wakes up. It's normally barely peeking out from the east, casting the sky soft hues of pink and purple. Izuku mentally frowns; he always had to flip the light on during the first 15 minutes of his chaotic morning routine, there is no way-
Izuku forcefully blinks one eye open and realizes he isn't in his bedroom. His mattress isn't under him, but the cushions of his ratty couch. The moment he tries to crane his neck to look at the time, he's brought to a halt by a sharp pain in his upper back, running along the side of his neck to his jaw.
He fell asleep on his couch, grading papers again, and his aching body hates him for it. Izuku brings himself into a sitting position, and his head violently pounds in protest as soon as he moves— might be a result of a neck contracture, or of his definitely not enough sleep hours. Izuku jolts when something falls onto his lap, which turns out to be his poor reading glasses, thankfully not broken despite him sleeping with them on for the third time that week.
Almost fearful, he eyes the wall clock and, yup.
He's so freaking late.
He springs out of the couch and snatches his phone from the coffee table to charge it as he hurries like a headless chicken to get ready and look at least somewhat presentable in the eyes of his very observant (read as nosy and judgmental) teenage students.
He's still wearing yesterday's clothes, ew. He needs a shower.
After a record time express shower plus another 5 minutes to gather his stuff around the house, Izuku is on his way to school.
He struggles to keep himself vertical in the crowded subway wagon, trying to protect his personal space's integrity as much as the peak morning hour allows him to in the public transport. Izuku misses being able to fly himself places. Kacchan still explodes his way to work most days, he's just amazing like that.
With exactly 3 minutes to spare, Izuku checks in with his ID at the UA security gates and hurries to his classroom. That coffee at the teacher's lounge will have to wait.
"Good morning, kids!" He says as he closes the door behind him. Everyone quickly scrams to their seat at their teacher's arrival, and he's met with a chorus of morning Midoriya-sensei in response.
He sets his stuff on the desk and sits down, hoping to catch his breath for a little while before he starts writing things on the board.
Izuku observes his students for a bit longer than usual that morning. All so different among them, each one strong in their own way. He offers them a warm smile.
"How did you sleep, kids?"
The day passes by slowly.
They just came out of exam season, and the sluggish feeling is palpable in the air. Izuku, being the big softie that he is, allows his students to loosen up a bit for the day, chatting up with his kids while he pretends to follow through with the lecture and enjoys the juvenile gossip of the day, which apparently is a love confession that happened right before school started this morning.
"You should have seen it, sensei, it was so romantic!" His student, a girl with a spider quirk called Yuriko, closes all of her 8 eyes as she swoons, "He gave her the chocolate box in front of everyone and asked her on a date tonight."
Other of his students, Takeo, a boy with silver hair that could turn into metal spikes, makes gagging noises. "That's so manipulative. What if the girl wanted to refuse but was too embarrassed to, due to his little stunt?"
Yuriko huffs, annoyed. "They've liked each other since the beginning of the school year, everyone knows that, dumbass."
"Language, Yuriko," Izuku scolds. The girl sends him an apologetic grin. Izuku shakes his head and suppresses a smile. "But Takeo has a point. Those sorts of displays can be a double-edged knife."
Yuriko groans. "But senseeeei, public displays are soooo romantic. There is something so dreamy about letting everyone know how you feel about your special person," she says. "And! He went all the way to Osaka to get those chocolates for her because she tried them on a trip with her family last summer. I think it speaks volumes that someone knows you and loves you enough to know exactly what you want and go to such lengths to get it for you, isn't it?"
"Well, that is pretty romantic," Izuku has to agree with a little smile, still giving it some thought. "That was very nice of him."
"And! He's been saving up to get them, too, because they're like, so expensive," she waves one of her many arms around. "He worked in his parents' shop for like three months. That means he's been thinking about her for so long! What's more romantic than that?"
"You're so nosy," Takeo accuses. "How do you even know all that?"
"I have my resources," she nonchalantly replies, flipping her hair off and dismissing him. Her attention goes back to Izuku. She rests her face on her hand and makes a smug face. Then, she asks, "What about you, Midoriya-sensei? Has anyone ever made something like that for you?"
The class goes ohhh before going silent and expectantly staring at their teacher, who has suddenly gone very still.
Oh.
Inevitably, the image of a briefcase pops up in his mind, containing a hero suit and all of his dreams, given to him by the only person who could be stubborn enough to spend so much time working to make it happen without asking for anything in return.
He thinks of an extended hand and blond hair, on deep red eyes and star-shaped scars.
On how difficult things get when you grow up.
His adam's apple bobs, and his mouth dries up. His fingers tighten around the lecture he's holding, scrunching the paper.
"Maybe," he replies, barely above a whisper. "But we're just friends. Love doesn't always have to be romantic, you know?" He displays a tight-lipped smile, hoping no further questions are asked about his non-existent personal love life. He can't answer them even if he wants to.
His students eye him long enough for him to feel like an insect under a microscope, but thankfully, he's quite literally saved by the bell as it rings and grants everyone the freedom to go home.
Soon, the classroom fills with the sound of chairs scraping the floor and excited giggles as the students discuss their plans for the weekend or complain about their lack thereof. As Izuku turns around to erase what he wrote on the board, many students chirp their goodbyes before exiting the classroom, to which he replies with a smile as he wishes them a good weekend.
When the classroom empties, he doesn't need to look back to know who stayed behind.
"You don't have to wait for me, Kota," he gently says, glancing over his shoulder. "Go have fun with your classmates, it's Friday, after all! And I was nice with the homework," he points out.
"I was just packing my stuff," Kota grumbles, fumbling with his backpack. "And I… I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Yeah?" Izuku asks, immediately worried and turning around to give him his undivided attention. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he huffs. "Are you, sensei?"
Izuku blinks. "I'm okay. Why… why are you asking?"
Kota glares at him, and he reminds Izuku so much of a certain someone that he has to resist the need to smirk.
"You seem off, lately," he says, still staring straight at him. "Like you're putting on a face for us."
Izuku gapes at him, eyes widening. Oh my God, is he being that obvious? How is a 15-year-old reading him like this? And how is he so perceptive?
He struggles to answer. Izuku doesn't wanna lie to him, but it's also not his place to worry about his teacher's problems. Kota is just a kid, no matter how much he wants to pretend otherwise. It's his duty to protect him, not the other way around. Izuku already feels like he failed him by concerning him.
"It's nothing important," he brushes off, "Life just gets… overwhelming, sometimes, but nothing to worry about," he smiles, trying to be reassuring and begging internally for Kota to just let it go.
Please don't ask about Kacchan, please don't ask about Kacchan, please—
But of course he doesn't let it go. Kota sees right through his attempt to water down his answer and doesn't hold back when he counterattacks.
"Does it have anything to do with Dynamight not coming anymore?"
Izuku's heart falls out of his ass.
"Of course not!" he replies a little too quickly. Suspiciously so. His smile threatens to falter under Kota's scrutinizing gaze, so he makes an extra effort to keep it natural. "Kacchan's been very busy, that's all."
"He's been here at least twice a month since the school year started, maybe even more," Kota replies, eyes narrowing. "And even since he stopped showing up, you seem like someone put salt in your morning coffee. Every day."
And frankly, Izuku didn't learn how to handle a student (who's been known since he was 6 years old on top of that) interrogating him about his mess of a personal life in his two-year teacher course. He is positively cornered and panicking.
"Did he do anything to you?"
"No!" he exclaims.
"Did you fight?"
"Kota," And Izuku's voice is downright pleading at this point.
"Then when is he coming back?" he presses.
"I thought you didn't like Kacchan," Izuku mutters.
"I don't!" Kota defensively barks. "He is so annoying. Always barging in here like he owns the place, beating our asses in training, being such a loud smart-ass about everything," he grunts as he rolls his eyes. But then, he quiets down and stares at Izuku in that way that makes him feel like he's got nowhere to hide. "But… he seems to make you happy."
A sudden chill runs down his spine, and Izuku goes stiff. His stomach seems to seize inside him, sending a funny sensation up his throat. He's so caught out guard that he cannot form words fast enough, and he fails to find a response that won't frame him. What could he say, anyway? If Kota is bringing it up, it's because it's already too late to deny it. He's young, not stupid. And Izuku refuses to treat him as such. But where's the line? How much can Izuku share without crossing it?
"Well, Kacchan is my best friend," he softly says, trying not to let his voice show how painful it is to utter those words right now. "Of course, he makes me happy. Aren't you happy when you're with Koki, Katsuma, and Eri?"
Kota shakes his head. "It's different," he firmly says. "I like being with them, and yeah, they make me happy. But when you're with Dynamight, it's as if you don't have eyes for anyone else. You're always smiling, and you don't look like a teacher. Sometimes it even feels as if we're intruding on something between you two."
Kota lets his words linger, and Izuku's heart is torn between racing and shattering at the same time. Somehow, it's even worse than the conversation he had with Ochako the night before. The fact that it's his student, the one putting the cards on the table like this for Izuku to shuffle, is virtually like a slap in the face. But Kota is the second most blunt person he knows, and the circumstances are paradoxically ironic.
"It's complicated," he finally replies, a tad defeated, a little embarrassed. "I know you know a little about our history. Between Kacchan and me, things always end up taking unexpected turns. But that's nothing for you to worry about, Kota. I'm okay," he smiles again, more genuinely now that he's not trying to lie through his teeth. "Let adults deal with the boring stuff."
Kota holds his sharp gaze for an eternal couple of seconds. Finally, he nods, then sighs heavily and looks back to adjust his schoolbag on his shoulder. Izuku takes the chance to deflate while he's not being observed. Kota sets his cap over his head like he does every day as soon as classes are over, and heads to the exit with slow steps. When he reaches the door, before crossing it, he looks at Izuku one more time. Something hides behind his gaze, but it goes as quickly as it comes.
"Yeah, whatever," he grumbles, face close to frowning but not quite. Then, his brow smooths out as they stare at each other, and with a much quieter voice, he says, "All I'm saying is that we miss seeing you happy, sensei."
And without another word, he leaves, steps echoing further and further through the hallways as Izuku just stands there blankly staring at the door.
He's not entirely aware as he turns back to pick up his things and carelessly stuff them into his backpack, barely blinking, eyes lost in nowhere in particular. Oddly, his mind is atypically quiet, as if Kota's words muted all of his thoughts with the magic button of shock.
The only thing he notices is how the bitter taste on his tongue remains as he makes his way back home.
The streets of the city are bustling with people, everyone rushing out to get home after a long day. Izuku navigates the busy streets with blind dexterity, clutching the straps of his backpack as he absentmindedly zigzags across bodies and pedestrian crossings.
Slowly but surely, the musings start swirling around in his brain once more.
Did… did his students think Kacchan and him were more than friends?
If only he could tell them how wrong they were. That's a song and dance he's too familiar with; this train of thought that always crashes at the same curve.
Kacchan doesn't see him like that.
He's been there for him at every step of the way as Izuku tried to figure out what the hell to do with his life after he lost OFA, and he's been the most loyal friend. Ever since he apologized that day in the rain, Katsuki had been nothing but honest.
Katsuki is a very straightforward person. If he wanted Izuku like that, after everything he had done, he would have already told him.
Izuku wasn't dumb. A little oblivious at times, yes, but unfortunately not blind enough to ignore his feelings for his best friend.
He had realized his real feelings for Katsuki long ago. Yet, his awareness didn't change the fact that what Izuku so badly wanted could never be. And as painful and earth-shattering as it first was, Izuku has learned to live with it for the sake of protecting what they have— what they have worked so hard to restore, picking up the broken pieces to create something new, something better.
He wasn't the first idiot to fall for his best friend. Izuku figured he would eventually find a way to set his unfortunate feelings aside and pretend that his whole world didn't light up like a Christmas tree whenever Kacchan was around. It was alarming that even his students had noticed, he had to do a better job of keeping himself in line.
But how could he pretend that his world wasn't missing its warmth? When Kacchan, who was everything to him, had likely finally realized Izuku was nothing but dead weight to him? After the war, as years went by, Kacchan got stronger, and Izuku only kept getting weaker. Izuku felt selfish taking so much from him when he had nothing to give back anymore. There would be days when Kacchan would be the only ray of sunshine breaking through his gray clouds. Always so bright, breathtaking, like an ever-present star shining high up in the sky.
A sky Izuku could no longer reach.
He had grasped it, brushed it with the tip of his fingers, and chewed it for long enough to remember how it tasted on the back of his throat, how the wind felt against his face when he was crossing the skies, and how the buzz of an immeasurable power thrummed inside his veins. Like dust, it had ended up slipping through his fingers, blowing away as if it had never been there. And now, he had nothing.
Some days, he felt like nothing.
And now Katsuki has noticed that Izuku could never catch up again— suit or not.
Zap!
He harshly bumps someone's shoulder in the crowd, and immediately, as if stricken by a lightning bolt, a sharp pain spreads through him and nestles on his head. It's relentless, overwhelming, stabbing, like someone decided to crack his skull open with a hammer. It goes from zero to a hundred in a second.
It forces him to squeeze his eyes tightly closed, bile going up his throat. It feels like the world has begun to spin around him, but opening his eyes was not a choice. In seconds, his whole body seizes, and oh God, is he dying?
It hurts.
It hurts, it hurts, it hurts— and then… it doesn't.
And for a long moment, there is nothing but darkness.