Archive of Our Own ^beta

the end of the world as you know it—

(—and what comes after.)

 ✱

He passes in his sleep, peacefully and completely out of nowhere. If anything, Izuku thinks later, he should be glad it had been painless. They had all known it was coming.

He receives the news belatedly, three days after the fact. He’d been out of country for a duo assignment with Tenya because Shigaraki is still at large, despite all of their efforts to keep him down, and Izuku shudders to think about how the villain might react to the news; a memory from long ago surfaces in his mind, unbidden.

“I feel like I get it now…” Shigaraki had said, head bowed. His body trembled, and Izuku was unaware of whether it was out of mirth or from something completely different. “Why the hero killer pisses me off, and why you’re so annoying! It’s all about —”

Izuku’s heart lurched. He knew what name would be coming out of Shigaraki’s mouth, and he was shaking—shaking under the unbelievable pressure Shigaraki was exuding, and shaking with the effort it took to keep some semblance of calm.

“—All Might.”

And now All Might is dead.

“What do you mean he’s passed away?” Izuku whisper-asks. Tenya is stock-still beside him.

Ochako’s voice wavers through the receiver, almost like they’re underwater. “Three days ago,” she says. Izuku can hear the effort it takes to pull the words out of her mouth, and he feels his senses numb as he inhales. “In his sleep. Recovery Girl said that the cause is still undetermined.”

Undetermined. It had been inevitable; they all knew what the real cause of it was. The truth about One For All had come out years ago, back when they’d first started seriously looking for Sensei, and it had been an open secret within the Yuuei community that All Might hadn’t had much time left.

“I’m sorry,” Ochako says mournfully.

Izuku hangs up.

They book the earliest flight back to Japan immediately. There are no more calls after the first one from Ochako, and Izuku appreciates the silence.

“Tenya,” he says quietly, staring out of the small window. The plane is just beginning to take off.

“Hm?”

Izuku turns to him, and Tenya watches back with an unidentifiable expression on his face. “All Might is dead.”

Tenya puts down his little red book. He knows, of course, because Ochako had been on speaker-phone, but he doesn’t say any of this. The unidentifiable expression of his shifts into something more recognizable: sorrow and—

—and pity.

“I’m sorry,” Tenya’s saying, hushed enough that the roar of the plane’s engine nearly drowns it out, but Izuku hears it loud and clear anyway, words punching him in the gut.

He turns away.

The funeral is two weeks later. Nedzu asks if he wants to coordinate it, and he declines (“Yes, I’m sure that I don’t want to do it—Thank you—Okay, goodbye—”) politely.

It’s for Toshinori rather than All Might. Every hero that knew his true identity—meaning most of his Yuuei classmates—is at the funeral, and then a few other friends All Might had made during his time in the hospital.

Grief is carving its way into his heart, but Izuku’s eyes are dry as they lower the casket into the ground. He doesn’t give a eulogy, because there are things he can't say, climbing and sitting in his throat until a pressure builds there and doesn't leave.

Someone puts their hand on his shoulder, and he turns. “Momo,” he says wearily. Her eyes are rimmed with red.

“Izuku,” Momo murmurs, voice wet, sadness twisting her expression. “I’m so sorry,” she says, and withdraws her hand. Even after she leaves him, the words hang in the air, heavy, tempered with sorrow. He doesn’t have an answer for them.

There have been people before her that have offered apologies, and people come after her, too. I’m sorry, they say. It was well known that All Might had been a lot to him—he understands why they say it. There’s no resentment at the knowledge of their pity.

A gaping hole has replaced a part of his heart, and it doesn’t leave much room for anything else. He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. I’m sorry, he thinks, near-desperately willing for something to come. I’m sorry, All Might. I can’t cry at your funeral.

He thinks that if he had been present for All Might’s last few moments, he might’ve been told something cheesy, like something straight out of the movies he’d watched as a little kid, before All Might and before Yuuei and before—everything.

I’ll still live on in your heart, All Might would’ve said, solemn and smiling in the way that he did, one finger pressing into the spot right above Izuku’s heart. You just have to remember me.

“Midoriya,” someone says uncomfortably, to his right. It breaks his thoughts.

Slowly, he removes his hands from his eyes. It’s Todoroki, one of the only people he knows who still calls Izuku by his last name. His nose is red and his cheeks are pale, but his eyes are clear, and Izuku realizes that he hasn’t seen Todoroki cry since they’d graduated.

Todoroki clears his throat. He presses a small, white card into Izuku’s hand, says, “For you—It’s my sister’s card, since she’s a psychiatrist, and she could help, probably. If you need it.” His speech cuts off as abruptly as it had started. Izuku recalls memories from a long time ago, rumors that he’d gone to his sister in the wake of their mother’s death.

He nods and slips the card into his back pocket, eyes on the floor. “Thank you,” he mumbles. It might be the first real thing he’s said all evening.

“No problem,” Todoroki mumbles, too. Izuku glances up, and Todoroki’s face is pinched, twisted with concern. He looks like he might say something.

Finally, on an exhale, he says, “I’m sorry.” It’s quiet, but in the silence of their surroundings it’s clear as day.

Izuku shakes his head. Todoroki walks away, leaving him alone with the words and the buried casket and his thoughts.

He still doesn’t have an answer.

Izuku goes home and falls asleep in his suit. In the morning, he understands why he hadn’t been able to cry at the funeral. When he wakes up, his dreams are leaking from his eyes.

(He realizes four mornings later, after tossing his tear-soaked pillow case into the laundry basket, that he isn’t sure when he’ll stop crying in his sleep—or if he’ll ever.)

“You’re putting me under house arrest,” Izuku states blandly. He’s in Nedzu’s office, summoned for a meeting.

Nedzu leans back in his chair. Standing beside him, Aizawa sighs and rubs at his face. “Not house arrest,” he mutters. “We’re giving you a two-month leave from the active hero list. It’s different.”

Izuku frowns. “And if I don’t accept it? What about hunting Sensei and Shigaraki?”

“You have to,” Aizawa points out. “You either accept it or we forcibly suspend you. No way around it. And you know we have plenty of heroes in that division. Most of your graduating class is on their tail.”

Izuku opens his mouth to reply, but Nedzu cuts him off. “Look,” Nedzu’s saying. “You need this, Midoriya-kun. I don't think you’re aware of it, but you haven't been the same since All Might's death. You’re distracted.” He shakes his head. “We know you're still grieving, as you have the right to. We all know what All Might meant to you. But when it comes down to it, we just can't have you this distracted, so we’re giving you this time to mourn in peace.”

Izuku exhales shakily and fists his hands in his lap. He can see the logic behind the decision, and—he doesn’t like it, but he can see it. Logically, he tells himself, he’s more of a nuisance than a help like this. He knows that he’s been more subdued than normal, can see the frustration in everyone’s faces as he leaves more and more messes behind for the rest of the division to clean up while they’re tracing the Villain Alliance. He’s been slacking.

“I understand,” he says, dragging the words out from his throat. Aizawa looks relieved, or as relieved as he could ever possibly look. Izuku feels something within him curl at that—not guilt, but close.

“Good,” Nedzu says. His eyes are pitch black, staring directly into his in a way that makes Izuku feel like he can guess everything he’s feeling. He looks away. “Two months, Midoriya-kun. You’re dismissed.”

The problem with this is that he has no idea what to do with his free time. It’s like this that Izuku realizes that he has no hobbies to speak of. His job had kept him busy since graduation, and before that—

—before that, it had been Yuuei and trying to figure out how to use One for All without breaking every bone in his body.

“You could always try starting up a new hobby,” Ochako suggests later that day, in the small café across the street from his apartment. “It’s never too late.”

Tenya nods seriously, hands curling around a mug of hot chocolate. He’s never been one for coffee. “Knitting has always been an excellent stress reliever.”

Ochako and Izuku both laugh at that, and Tenya hides his own smile in his mug, watching Ochako fondly. Her engagement ring glints in the light; it’s a small reminder of how badly Izuku needs to get himself together. He can’t be Tenya’s best man like this—not while he’s sulking around, barely sure of what to do with himself.

“But seriously,” Ochako says, smiling. Her eyes soften. “You have a lot of time. Don’t rush it. Maybe get a part time, you know? Don’t start stressing about how to de-stress.”

“I know,” Izuku says earnestly, sipping his coffee. There’s still a lingering sadness in the atmosphere, but it’s been weeks since All Might’s funeral. They’ve each found their ways to cope. Now it’s time for Izuku to find his.

For a moment, they just breathe. Tenya is the one to break the silence, clearing his throat. “And the wedding,” he says.

Izuku blinks. “What?”

“You will be there, won’t you?” Tenya asks, brow furrowing. “I know I asked you to be my best man, but not if—not if it’s too much for you to handle.”

“Oh,” Izuku says. The corners of his mouth lift. Tenya’s too considerate for his own good, he thinks, and he downs the rest of his coffee, scalding his tongue in the process. They’ll be good for each other. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.” It’s the truth, and it feels good to say it. Teasingly, he says, “Like I’d let anybody else be your best man.”

Ochako rolls her eyes. Tenya just looks relieved. They’ve all matured in their own ways, but Tenya’s the one that’s changed the least. “That’s what I told him,” Ochako says. “But you know how he is.”

Izuku lets out a laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

midoriya-kun, all might says. he’s sitting on the hospital bed in his hero form, beaming white grin stretching his cheeks. are you forgetting me?

izuku wants to deny it, the way he’s been trying to for weeks. no! he tries to cry out, but there’s something curling around his throat and keeping his jaw clenched tightly shut, keeping his words wrapped tightly inside of him. he looks down as far as he can and sees a hand, gray-white skin stretched tight as it flexes around his throat.

he’s choking, vision blurring at the edges. when he looks back up, all might has returned to his true form. behind him stands shigaraki.

you’re forgetting me, aren’t you, my boy? all might is saying. he looks terribly sad, and izuku wants to shout—shout his denial, and shout about shigaraki standing right there, right there behind him, and can’t he feel the fingers wrapping around his neck?

the pressure releases itself. izuku stumbles forward out of his chair, right as shigaraki’s final finger touches all might’s skin. all might! he shouts helplessly. the man crumbles to dust before him, shigaraki’s laughter echoing and echoing around the hospital room, and izuku is sobbing and—

—he wakes up.

The first month passes.

He sees his own reflection in the mirror, watching as bruises form beneath his eyes; five more tear-soaked pillow cases join the rest.

He runs into Todoroki in the grocery store.

“Hi,” Izuku says, surprised. Todoroki blinks back at him, equally surprised, and bobs his head in acknowledgement. They stare at each other awkwardly, remembering their last encounter.

“I need—” Todoroki motions to the shelf behind him. “Uh.”

Izuku flushes, scrambling out of the way. “Sorry,” he mumbles. Todoroki watches in amused silence.

“It’s fine,” he says mildly, plucking a box of cereal off the shelf. “What’re you here for?”

“I’m cooking,” Izuku says. He gestures towards his own basket. “It’s katsu curry tonight.”

“Katsu curry,” he repeats. The words sound different coming from his mouth, somehow, like they’d gained a different sort of meaning because it’s Todoroki saying them. Izuku’s lips quirk at the thought, and he moves forward, looking for his last ingredients. Todoroki falls into step beside him. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

Izuku shrugs, scratching his cheek in embarrassment. “I don’t,” he confesses. “Or not really, at least. But I have a lot of time nowadays, so I figured I might try.”

Because of my two-month leave, is the unmentioned part of his sentence. Todoroki doesn’t bring it up, but watches him carefully as they make their way through the produce section. “Have you been to my sister?”

Izuku’s steps stutter. For a moment, he has no idea what’s he’s talking about. “No,” he admits. “I’ve been alright—cooking and stuff, you know.” It sounds like a lie, even to him, and he grabs a bag of lettuce randomly to distract himself.

Todoroki hums in response. “You don’t need lettuce for katsu curry,” he points out after some silence. Izuku’s cheeks pinken.

“For the future,” he says defensively, and Todoroki laughs lightly. It’s a nice sound, he thinks. Something he hears often, but still not often enough. Despite himself, he finds himself smiling. “If you want,” he says, aiming for casual and failing a little, “you could—uh, you could come over. For dinner, I mean.”

Todoroki gives him a small smile, right cheek dimpling a little, and Izuku beams back, pleased. “I’ll take you up on that, then.”

They end up having curry rice, because Izuku had forgotten to buy the tonkatsu.

“You’re learning English?” Todoroki asks, thumbing through one of his books. They litter his kotatsu table, as well as the rest of his apartment. This one is bright yellow, with red lettering so flashy that it’s nearly offensive. English for Dummies, it says. Izuku thinks that All Might might’ve liked it, and he steers his thoughts away from that firmly.

Izuku shrugs, blowing his food. “I told you,” he says around a spoonful. “Lots of free time.”

Todoroki raises an eyebrow. He’s the type to eat his curry and rice separately, in two spoonfuls rather than one, and Izuku isn't entirely sure why he’s noticing this. “Isn’t Bakugou fluent?”

Izuku hums. “Yeah, but you know. Katsuki and I haven’t been on the best terms in—well, not since we were little kids. I can’t really rely on him.”

Todoroki frowns. “I’ve always wondered,” he says slowly, “why you two are always on such bad terms.”

It’s a question posed as a statement, and Izuku lets out a shallow sigh. “I’m not one-hundred percent sure myself,” he confesses. “It’s been a long time. I can remember when we were friends, but not what happened to change that. It probably had to do with my, ah—my lack of a quirk.”

“Before All Might,” Todoroki says carefully.

Izuku’s mouth twists. “Before All Might.”

There it is, Izuku thinks. All Might is a topic he skirts around during the day, because his dreams and nightmares make up for it. Saying his name out loud stirs up fresh grief, like accidentally opening a wound before it has time to fully heal. It—Izuku—bleeds.

Both of them are silent. There’s a feeling, pushing against his chest and rising upwards until it becomes a pressure in his throat, where it morphs into words. He puts his spoon down, tears prickling in the back of his eyes, and he knows that Todoroki notices.

“Midoriya—” There’s something like panic seeping into Todoroki’s voice. “Shit—Sorry—” Todoroki’s eyes widen slightly, and one of his hands is clenched around a napkin like he’s not sure whether to offer it to him or not.

“It’s alright,” Izuku says, voice thick. He winces at the sound of his own voice and rubs his face. The feeling retreats. “Don’t apologize. ‘s my fault.”

Todoroki shakes his head and stands up slowly, plate forgotten. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, looking away. “I should—I should probably go.”

Izuku watches helplessly, mouth opening in protest. Nothing comes out.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Todoroki says, still not quite meeting his eyes. Izuku wants to point out that half of his plate is left, but the words stick in his mouth.

“No—” he tries. His frustration grows, and his head starts to feel numb again.

Todoroki bows and sees himself out, and Izuku’s left with one and a half plates of curry rice, feeling even more helpless than before.

Todoroki appears in his dreams that night.

you’re forgetting me, all might says. this time, they're on the rooftop where izuku had discovered his secret, all those years ago. to his left stands all might, white grin still pulling his cheeks back, and to his right is todoroki.

you would have been nothing without him, todoroki says. he stretches out one hand, mouth curling upwards. and you can be something now, but you have to forget about him.

you can’t forget me, all might says. he steps forward, hands outstretched, and izuku flinches, glancing at todoroki in a panic. todoroki watches back, eyes glinting triumphantly. his hand is still out.

take my hand, he urges. at the same time, all might staggers back, as if he'd been struck, and izuku realizes belatedly that he can't see all might's eyes.

izuku watches his own hand as it reaches for todoroki’s, a feeling of detachment rattling around in his brain. his hand is pale and smooth. none of the scars he's collected over the years are present in his skin, and it's that observation that forces him into awareness.

all might! he yells. he turns in a frenzy, just in time to see him stumble off the rooftop.

izuku lurches after him, and he falls

and falls

and falls.

There are text notifications on his phone in the morning.

[Todoroki Shouto 7:23 AM] A lady gave me tickets to the amusement park for Saturday. Read 10:09 AM.

[Todoroki Shouto 7:23 AM] Do you want to go with me? It’s to make up for making you cry last night. Read 10:09 AM.

[Midoriya Izuku 10:09 AM] i didnt cry!!  Read 10:12 AM.

[Midoriya Izuku 10:10 AM] but yes please Read 10:12 AM.

[Midoriya Izuku sent a sticker] Read 10:12 AM.

He visits Ochako and Tenya on Friday afternoon, hand poised to knock on their front door when it swings open. Ochako squints at him, looking incredibly distressed.

“Deku-kun?”

Izuku smiles sheepishly. “Yeah. Were you expecting someone?”

She shakes her head, standing aside to let him in. “Just some takeout.”

Their apartment is small and undeniably lived-in, and Izuku can catch whiffs of something baking from the kitchen. “Is Tenya baking again?”

Ochako runs a hand through her hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah,” she says, slumping into a chair. “Stress baking. He’s been like that all day, and now we have enough cookies to feed every children’s hospital in the city and a few orphanages.”

She sounds miserable. “The wedding?” he guesses, and she nods, putting her face in her hands. He pats her shoulder empathically, dropping into the seat next to her.

“It’s just—it’s in two weeks, you know? We have to rearrange the seating orders, and I still don’t have all of the dresses…” She trails off, starting to sniffle. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to start complaining. Did you come here for something?”

He shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to visit,” he says, and frowns. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

She straightens. “Actually,” she says, tilting her head, “are you free tomorrow?”

Izuku feels almost guilty denying her. “I’m going to the amusement park tomorrow.”

Ochako leans forward, and—he knows that look. “Really?” she says with bald curiosity. “With who?”

He opens and shuts his mouth, grimacing. “Ochako—” he starts, but Tenya bursts into the living room then, one mittened hand clutching a tray of cookies. His apron says, I’d Tell You The Recipe, But Then I’d Have To Kill You.

“Izuku-kun!” he yells, and he grins, offering him a cookie. “What brings you here?”

“Just stopping by,” Izuku says. Tenya sets the tray down on the table, pushing a bunch of papers to the side. They both look a little worse for wear, he thinks. There are dark circles under their eyes, and Ochako’s voice sounds strained from overuse.

“He’s got a date tomorrow,” Ochako pipes up from the side. “And he was just about to tell me who it’s with.”

“A date?” Tenya raises an eyebrow.

“Not a date,” Izuku says firmly. “An outing. Between friends. Because I haven’t seen him in a while.”

Tenya sinks into his own seat, expression amused. Ochako scoffs. “Sounds like denial,” she says.

“If it's a him,” Tenya says thoughtfully, “I would say either Todoroki-kun or Kaminari-kun.”

Izuku starts, and Ochako grins triumphantly. “I’d put money on Todoroki-kun,” she says. He scowls at her.

“Mineta-kun is hardly the type to go on a date with a guy, Bakugou-kun would very likely maim you before Kirishima-kun could get a chance to ask you, and Bakugou-kun is…” Tenya pauses. “Bakugou-kun is, well, Bakugou-kun. Everyone else is out of the country.”

Izuku slouches in his chair, cheeks pinking. “It’s Todoroki-kun. Again—not a date.”

Ochako just laughs. “I’m just teasing,” she says, smiling softly. “But thanks for stopping by, Deku-kun. I think Tenya and I both needed a moment away from the wedding.”

Tenya nods in agreement. “Make sure to take some cookies before you leave,” he says. A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth, too. “And have fun on your not-date, Izuku-kun.”

Todoroki looks good. Almost too good, even. Izuku had come in an old sweater and fading jeans, and he feels more than a little plain standing next to him, circles under his eyes from nights of troubled sleeping.

“Hi,” he says. Todoroki looks up from his phone, relief flashing through his features when he sees him. Ochako’s teasing from yesterday rises in the back of his mind, and he squashes it down viciously.

“Hey,” Todoroki says. He shoves his hands in his jean pockets, and they regard each other for an awkward second.

Izuku scuffs his foot against the pavement. Todoroki lets out a shallow sigh. “We should go,” Todoroki says finally. He looks nervous, and it’s so unlike his usual, calm demeanor that Izuku can’t help but grin.

He stretches, determined to enjoy himself as much as possible. “We should go,” he agrees. Warmth floods his system. Despite everything, he wants to have a little more fun before the last few weeks of his leave are up. Maybe the leave really was a good idea, he muses.

Todoroki falls into step beside him easily, and for a split-second he remembers Dream-Todoroki’s words. You would have been nothing without him, he’d said. Air stutters out of his mouth in an exhale, and Real-Todoroki regards him with wary curiosity, like he’s not sure if he should be asking if he’s alright.

He ends up asking anyway. “You okay?” he says. Izuku nods, wiping his suddenly clammy hands against his jeans.

The ticket lady blinks up at them from the shade of her booth. “Wait,” she says, taking their tickets, and her eyes flicker back and forth between the two of them, “aren’t you two—”

“Yes.” Todoroki looks up, flashing her an easy smile. It’s fake, undoubtedly, because they spend just as much time in their career in front of news reporters as they do saving people.

Todoroki’s the easier to recognize of the two. It’s the hair and the scar, Izuku thinks. People just don’t forget faces like that.

“Thank you,” Izuku says, shuffling forward. Even as they pass the gates into the park, someone doubles back, gawking at them.

The perk of being a well-known hero, he thinks idly, is that he doesn’t have to wait in lines. People stumble over themselves trying to help them, eyes reflecting admiration and praise stumbling out of their mouths. It makes them both uncomfortable. Half the time, they get stopped for autographs and photos and everything in-between.

“Sorry about this,” Todoroki mumbles, leaning in to whisper to him. His breath tickles the shell of his ear, and Izuku stills, heart thump-thumping hard in his chest. “If I’d known this would happen, I’d have taken you somewhere else.”

Izuku leans away, an uncomfortable awareness prickling in the back of his mind. “It’s fine, I’m having fun,” he says reassuringly, head tilting up at him, and he lets a genuine smile curve his lips.

Later, after his head is dizzy from too many roller-coasters, he’s waiting for Todoroki to get back from god-knows-where when he hears bawling to his right. Almost on reflex, Izuku’s head is turning, legs moving to the source. Sitting on a bench is a little girl, about seven or eight years old; her pigtails swing with the force of her shaking, and her small, chubby hands are curled into fists, clutching at the fabric of her skirt.

He squats down in front of her and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. He’s never been the best with crying children. Ochako had always been the one to handle them on rescue missions, soothing voice and pretty face, and they took to her like moths to a flame; here, he tries to emulate that. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

She hiccups, tears coming from her eyes like rivers, nose dripping and dripping. “I lost my mommy,” she whispers.

Something in his heart seizes a little. “I’m gonna help you find her, okay? C’mon,” he says, rising to his feet. He offers a hand and she takes it, wobbling after him and wiping her face with her sleeve. It’s a good thing he’d been the one to find her, he thinks worriedly. She’d taken his hand without hesitation.

“My name’s Mina,” she says eventually, still sniffling. Her tears have stopped, but her cheeks are still blotchy and red. “Who’re you?”

Izuku smiles a little. He hasn’t been asked for his name in a while. “I’m Izuku,” he says, swinging her hand. “But most people know me as Deku, I think.”

“Deku-san,” she says thickly, and he smiles down at her. He sends Todoroki a quick text with his free hand.

sorry, meet me at the lost children’s center

Mina tugs at his hand. Eyes turned up to him, lips starting to wobble, she says, “You’ll really find my mommy for me?”

“I really will,” he promises, pocketing his phone. He squeezes her hand as reassuringly as he can.

Her hand clutches his tighter, like a lifeline. “I ran away from them,” she whispers, unprompted. “Nii-chan was—” Her lips wobble again. “Nii-chan was talking badly about Yoichi-kun in front of mommy.”

Izuku glances down. “Yoichi-kun?”

She nods. “My classmate,” she says. Her walk slows, and she looks down at the floor. “I like him, but nii-chan doesn’t like him because he says mean things sometimes.”

Izuku blanches. He really, really wasn’t prepared for this. “Mean things?” he asks carefully. “Like what?”

Mina bites her lip, eyes wide again. “Sometimes—sometimes he says I’m ugly and gross, but—but I know he doesn’t really believe it! His friends make him say it!” She sounds undeniably miserable, feet dragging along the pavement. “When it’s just us he says sorry, and he thinks my Quirk is cool.”

Izuku slows to a stop. He takes a deep breath and kneels in front of her, letting go of her hand. “Mina-chan,” he starts, and pauses. “Mina-chan, even if Yoichi-kun is nice to you when you’re by yourselves, a good friend would be nice to you all the time, right?”

Mina fists her shirt in her hands. “Yoichi-kun’s a good friend!” she protests. She blushes a little, says, “And he makes my feelings all squishy.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, considering his options. “If Yoichi-kun makes your feelings squishy,” he says slowly, “then you should tell him to stop being mean to you, because maybe you make his feelings squishy too. And if he doesn’t stop, you shouldn’t talk to him anymore, because that’s not what good friends do.” Mina looks doubtful, or as doubtful as she can, but nods slowly. Suddenly, her eyes brighten.

“Do you, um,” Mina stutters quietly, leaning forward with cheeks dusted pink. “Do you get squishy feelings, too? Like me?”

Izuku blinks at her, surprised by the question, and inexplicably, he thinks of Todoroki and the matching hats he’d bought and forced him to wear just an hour before, the loud sound of his own heart beating in his ears. “Sometimes,” he says after a beat. The word stretches uncomfortably from his mouth, like an answer that’s really a question, directing itself back at him.

He takes a deep breath, clears his head, and stands up again. “C’mon, we’re almost there,” he says, taking her hand. Mina stumbles after him.

Her mother and brother are already at the Center when they get there, panic-stricken faces melting into relief at the sight of them.

“Mommy! Nii-chan!” Mina shrieks. Izuku is forgotten, smiling as he watches their reunion. Her mother scoops her into a hug, peppering her face with kisses, and her brother gapes at him, recognition clear on his face.

“You—Oh my God, aren’t you Deku? I’m—Oh my God, could I have an autograph—” He pats his body down, looking flustered. “I swear I have paper here somewhere—Aha!” He beams proudly, holding out a paper and pen.

No matter how many times he does it, Izuku doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling surprised that people know him, like him enough to ask for his signature. “Of course,” he says warmly, taking the pen and paper. “What’s your name?”

“Yuuta,” he says, and then fidgets with the bottom of his shirt. “Actually, I have a few questions, Deku-san.”

Izuku tilts his head, curious, but Yuuta’s mother frowns. “Yuuta!” she admonishes. “Now isn’t the time for this!”

Yuuta ignores her. “Is it true that your Quirk didn’t come until you were fourteen?” he blurts, words coming out in a rush. Izuku freezes. “I’m—I’m thirteen already and my Quirk still hasn’t come, but there are all these rumors that your Quirk didn’t manifest until you were fourteen, and I just want to know if I have a chance— ”

He’s Quirkless, Izuku realizes, and he very, very suddenly remembers what he’d been like at thirteen, Quirkless and full of wanting for a world he could never reach because of something as simple as an extra joint. Yuuta’s Iooking up anxiously at him, all signs of his previous enthusiasm erased. Not everyone has an All Might in their life, he thinks, and the thought sobers him. A familiar tightness emerges in his chest, but he shoves it down mercilessly. Now’s not the time, he thinks. He knows what his next words will mean.

“I can’t give you an answer to that question,” he says softly, kneeling down so he’s at eye level. Yuuta’s eyes widen. “But I think, if you’re really determined, the road will rise up to meet you. Don’t let something like genetics stop you from doing what you really want to do, okay?”

It’s a shitty response, and Izuku wants to break down in front of him and tell him the truth—his is a power that he’d stumbled across because of sheer luck and good timing. He’d worked hard to learn how to control his power, undeniably yes, but there were people out there just like him that had been less lucky. I’m sorry, he wants to say instead.

Yuuta looks like he’s turning the answer over in his head. “Okay,” he says finally. There’s a glimmer of hope shining in his eyes, and it makes Izuku want to turn away. “Thank you, Deku-san!”

Giving his autograph to the boy makes him feel incredibly guilty, and the feeling persists even as Mina and Yuuta walk away with their mother, waving cheerful goodbyes.

Todoroki finds him sitting on a nearby bench, head in his hands and leg jittering uncontrollably.

“Midoriya,” he says, and frowns. He has two ice cream cones in his hands, a light layer of frost from his right side covering each of them to keep them from melting.

Izuku gives him a wavering smile. “Sorry about that,” he says, and then with faux-seriousness, adds, “You know, if you ever get tired of hero work, you’d be great with ice cream.”

He snorts, handing one over carefully. “What happened?”

“I found a little girl,” Izuku says, taking it gratefully. Todoroki sits down beside him, and he explains the rest of the story, falteringly talking about Yuuta and his anxious, vulnerable face; he hadn’t wanted to crush his dreams, he says. Todoroki listens silently, eyes softening.

“It’s not always a bad thing to give someone hope,” Todoroki says quietly, afterwards. “After a lifetime of being told no, maybe all he needed was someone to say yes.”

The words still leave a layer of doubt behind, but he feels better. “Maybe,” he agrees, and sighs. “Maybe.”

They end up in his apartment afterwards, for dinner. To make up for the last time, Izuku had said firmly, and Todoroki had no room to protest. The lingering awkwardness leaves while they talk and eat, and he’s thankful for that because Todoroki has always been a good friend—calm and collected and a little blunt at times, but always the first to show up when he calls for help. Caring in his own way, like freezing his ice cream so it doesn't melt.

“Has your hair always been like this?” Izuku makes a gesture. They’re lounging around with their legs tucked beneath his kotatsu, and he feels unbearably sleepy, waiting for the rain to stop so Todoroki can walk back home. The day’s events are a hazy, hazy fog drifting towards the back of his mind.

Todoroki tears his eyes away from the TV, yawning. “My hair?” He tugs on it. “No. It was brown when I was born, but it changed overnight when my Quirk first developed. My father’s was like that, too,” he says, and his expression shifts into one of distaste. “They thought I was only gonna get his side, but I ended up with both.”

Izuku makes a thoughtful noise, sipping at his tea. “Your eyes, too?” Todoroki nods, and they lapse into another comfortable silence.

“When do you think the rain will stop?” Todoroki asks, after a while. It’s nearing midnight, his clock says. Izuku hadn’t realized it’d gotten so late.

He shrugs, jaw popping in another yawn. “Dunno. You could stay over, if you’d like,” he suggests sleepily. The words are out of his mouth before he can process them, and he realizes afterwards—wait, he thinks. The crying.

But Todoroki’s already saying, “Yeah, if it's alright,” gratefully, and Izuku’s nodding, panicking internally.

“I only have my bed,” he says regretfully. He hadn't bothered washing his futon since the last time Tenya had slept over, and he has no couch to speak of—his kotatsu is the only thing in his living room, beyond his TV and kitchenware.

They drag themselves to their feet. “I can sleep on the floor,” Todoroki offers, and Izuku shakes his head resolutely.

“No, no,” he says. “It’ll fit us both.”

“Optimistic, were you?” he says teasingly, and Izuku flushes at the remark.

His bedroom’s the only other real room in his apartment, and his mom had been embarrassingly optimistic when she’d bought the bed as a gift. It’s big enough to be comfortable for both of them, with space leftover.

Todoroki ends up using his extra toothbrush and falls asleep in his day clothes, passing out as soon as his head hits the pillows. Izuku watches him as his breathing evens out, trying to figure out how he’s going to explain in the morning.

He can see how it’ll go down: Yeah, he’ll say. So I’ve had recurring nightmares about All Might since his funeral, and you showed up once, too.

It’ll be a disaster, he thinks miserably. He hasn’t told anyone yet.

He tosses and turns, and the heat Todoroki radiates drags him to sleep.

He wakes up seven hours later in a mess of limbs, drowsily untangling himself from Todoroki’s arms and legs. Sometime while they’d slept, he'd ended up being used as a pillow, but he doesn't mind. He’s shared beds with worse sleepers.

More importantly, he thinks, eyeing his dry pillow, he hadn't had any of his usual nightmares.

Todoroki stirs next to him. “Midoriya,” he mumbles, opening one eye blearily. His shirt is wrinkled, hair sticking up in places; Izuku feels an unexpected surge of affection, and he reaches out to pat it down.

“Good morning,” he says, smiling. He’s happy—really happy, if he's completely honest—and he feels more like himself after one, dreamless night.

Todoroki stretches. “Morning,” he says, suppressing a yawn, and he slips out of the bed, padding into the bathroom with one sock on. The left one is still underneath the covers.

Sunlight slants through his windows as Izuku makes his way through his kitchen, humming under his breath. Todoroki appears a minute afterwards, eyes still half closed.

“I should’ve known you’d be a morning person,” he says, words dragging from his drowsiness. His voice is still rough from sleep.

“I’m not,” Izuku says, waving a spatula. He bites his lip. “Are you staying for breakfast?”

Todoroki shakes his head. “I should go home,” he says, pouring himself a glass of water, and Izuku panics. How does one go about asking your friends to continue sleeping with them so you can sleep peacefully? He isn't even sure that Todoroki had been the cause of it, and, despite the likelihood, there’s still an embarrassed part of him that doubts his own conclusions.

Izuku weighs his options, biting the inside of his cheek. “Todoroki-kun,” he says after a beat. He puts down his spatula. “You know, this is going to sound really weird, but I need you to sleep with me again tonight.”

Blunt and straight-forward, like ripping off a band-aid. It’s half of the the truth, and Todoroki chokes a little on his water at the request, suddenly wide-awake. “Did I hear that correctly?”

Izuku winces. Maybe too straight-forward. “It’s for a good reason,” he says weakly. It sounds unconvincing, even to him, and he crosses his fingers.

Todoroki regards him, crossing his arms. After a long silence, he says, “Alright.”

Relief floods him, followed by suspicion. “Seriously?” he asks. “Just like that? No questions asked?”

Todoroki gives him a wry smile. “Have I ever asked questions?” He runs a hand through his hair, looking away, and something passes across his face, unrecognizable.

There's something there, in his words, and Izuku feels like he should know what it is, but he doesn’t. He says, “No, not really,” almost guiltily, and a feeling sinks into his stomach and settles there, like a stone. No—he’s never asked questions, not in the long time that they’ve been friends, not once.

Todoroki meets his eyes again, and the feeling lessens. “Exactly,” he says, apparently satisfied. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

A feeling of restlessness chases him throughout the day, hounding him as he works through his normal routine. He studies English in the morning, flipping through pages of superlatives until he’s satisfied, and then visits his mom for lunch, feeling guilty about their recent lack of contact.

“Izuku!” she says, delighted. White streaks her hair, has for a while, and he grins down at her.

“Hey, mom,” he greets softly. She moves aside and he steps in, noting an extra pair of shoes. “Is dad home?”

She nods. “Came back last week,” she says, eyes softening. “But he’s taking a nap upstairs, so I’m not sure if you’ll get to see him today.”

He shrugs, says vaguely, “Maybe another time.”

The TV is on, blaring in from the living room as his mom moves around the kitchen. “Is All Might actually dead?” asks one reporter. “Or has he simply disappeared?”

He snatches the remote control off the table, making his way to the living room. ALL MIGHT: IS HE GONE FOR GOOD? flashes in bold red across the screen. Underneath the lettering is a picture of All Might and a woman, and she speaks about his last rumored appearance, a year ago. That had been when he’d first been admitted into an underground hospital, deemed too weak to use his power again. There had been no public cover. You couldn’t cover up something as big as this, they’d reasoned, and they’d simply let him disappear.

“Witnesses believe that his disappearance was intentional,” she’s saying. “Some even say that there were tears streaming down his face!”

A familiar, suffocating grief twists its way into chest, squeezing his lungs and his heart so hard that he can’t breathe.

“Izuku!” his mom calls, and he can breathe again, if only for a moment.

He shuts the TV off. “Coming!”

Todoroki does turn up that night, near eleven. Logically, he knows that Todoroki isn’t the type to go back on his word, but it’s still a relief when he does show up, duffel bag in hand.

“Hey,” he says. He looks tired, eyes shot and shoulder still slightly steaming. There’s a bleeding cut on his cheek. “Sorry I’m late,” he mumbles. “I came here as soon as I was finished.”

“It’s fine,” Izuku says, blinks. He pulls Todoroki inside, shutting the door behind them. “Are you alright? What happened?”

Todoroki rolls his shoulder, sitting down on the floor as Izuku rummages around for his first-aid kit. “Ran across a villain duo with super healing and self-replication Quirks,” he says. “No big deal. It would’ve been faster if Iida had been available for backup, but he’s on leave for his wedding.”

Izuku makes a distracted noise in the back of his throat, tearing open a packet of disinfecting wipes. “You need to be more careful,” he mutters, although it’s half-hearted at best. He wipes his cheek carefully, and Todoroki watches him with—with unmistakable fondness, Izuku thinks, and he feels his cheeks heat up.

“I’ll try,” Todoroki says mildly, and Izuku doesn't reply, slapping the band-aid on a little too roughly. If he notices, he doesn't show it.

Later, Todoroki falls asleep immediately, and in the darkness of the room, Izuku can’t help but watch him sleep. His face is relaxed, brow smooth and an occasional twitch coming from his mouth. Again, he feels a rush of affection, and he moves closer, feeling the warmth that rolls off of him.

Good night, he thinks, and drifts off to sleep.

His pillow is dry in the morning, confirming his earlier suspicions. Todoroki’s still asleep beside him, and his clock reads 7:37AM as he pulls himself out of his tangled embrace.

“Todoroki-kun,” he says, shaking him awake. “You’re going to be late, Todoroki-kun.”

Todoroki lets out a low groan, swatting his hands away, and Izuku laughs. “I don’t start ‘til eleven today,” he says, opening one eye, and he wraps an arm around Izuku’s waist, drags him back down. “Go back to sleep, Midoriya.”

Izuku laughs again. Something stirs inside him, blossoming inside his chest, a mixture of relief and gratefulness and happiness all at once. He falls back asleep with Todoroki’s arm still around his waist, and his sleep is dreamless then, too—no All Might, no nightmares, and no crying in his sleep.

His last two weeks go like this:

Izuku manages to convince Todoroki to stay over again, and then again and again. After a while, Todoroki starts to come over on his own volition, and Izuku fills the empty space in his closet with Todoroki’s things, too.

It’s a strange arrangement, he thinks. And despite this, Todoroki doesn’t ask any whys, even though Izuku knows he’s getting more and more curious as the days pass.

They settle into a routine: in the afternoons, Izuku studies and entertains himself, and in the evenings, Todoroki comes back from various assignments. They have dinner together, sometimes, and Izuku goes to sleep with a smile on his face; in the mornings, they have breakfast, and Todoroki leaves for the day. Rinse and repeat, he thinks, and settles into the domesticity of it.

Izuku is consistently the first to wake up, except for once—Todoroki had been the first to wake, then, and Izuku had woken up to find him watching him. His eyes had been dark, growing darker still.

“Morning,” he’d said. He’d looked happy, and Izuku had swallowed, shut his eyes, felt like he was missing something again.

It’s little things, things that make him feel like he’s overlooking something. Like how Todoroki’s unexpectedly affectionate in the mornings, when he’s still a little drowsy and half-asleep, putting his chin on Izuku’s head and dozing slightly. Izuku thinks it’s cute, and he smiles when it happens, quietly pleased; he’d mentioned it to Ochako once, even. She’d smiled at him strangely, and Izuku hadn’t thought too hard about it.

If Todoroki’s keeping something from him, he doesn’t want to ask about it. Todoroki doesn’t question Izuku, and Izuku doesn’t want to question him.

Ochako and Tenya’s wedding is on the first day of his first week back from leave, and he arrives early in the morning, Todoroki in tow, to help them settle everything before guests start coming in.

He's happy for them. Of course he is—they're his two best friends. And they're getting married. To each other.

Despite this, he fidgets, tugs at the lapels of his suit.

"Hey," Todoroki says lowly. Izuku turns to him, and his eyebrows are knit together in the picture of concern. "You alright?”

"Yeah," he squeaks. Heat crawls up his neck. "I mean—I'm fine." He licks his lips nervously.

"Really," Todoroki says blandly. He obviously doesn’t believe it, but he leans back—when had their faces gotten so close? Izuku thinks, eyes widening—and motions forward. "Well, there's Iida."

He turns, and Tenya’s approaching them, grateful smile on his face. “Thank you for offering to help,” he says. “Did you arrive together?”

Izuku nods, and Tenya gives Todoroki a curious look. Todoroki scowls back. Izuku feels like he’s missed something entirely. “Well,” Tenya says, looking slightly amused. “Ochako will surely have something for you to do.” He pauses. “But Todoroki-kun, if I could have a word with you?”

Todoroki tilts his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll see you later,” he says to Izuku, and they walk off, leaving him even more anxious than he was before.

Ochako does have something for him to do, he finds out, and he ends up setting up the tables, barely finishing by the time the earliest guests start filing in. It’s distracting enough to calm his fidgeting.

“Deku-kun!” Ochako calls. She looks frantic. “Sorry, but do you mind taking care of the sign-in table? I’d ask someone else, but I can’t find any of the planners and I—well, I have to get dressed. You don’t mind, do you?”

Izuku shakes his head, beams and says, “Of course not. Go get dressed, Ochako—you’ll look great.” She smiles back, lips quivering, and hurries away with a wave.

The sign-in table is less of a sign-in table and more of a photo booth, really. Behind the table is an enormous cork board, and pinned up on it are Polaroid photos of the guests. The bridesmaids and groomsmen have already pinned their photos up; Kyouka’s message, written in the white space beneath her photo, reads, Congrats on finally getting hitched.

Denki’s the first to arrive, five minutes after Izuku does, and his hair’s cut short, tips barely brushing the top of his ears. “You got a haircut,” he says, holding up the camera.

Denki grins, running a hand through his hair. It spikes out at the top. “I did,” he confirms happily, holding up a peace sign as the flash goes off. He shakes the photo and tilts his head, says, “So, you and Todoroki finally got together, huh?”

Izuku chokes. “What?”

Denki looks surprised. “You’re not? There were pictures of you at the amusement park on a date or something, a few weeks back. I remembered ‘cause it was on one of those Hero net forums.”

“We’re not,” Izuku says, flustered. “And even if we were—shouldn’t we have a little privacy? And what do you mean by ‘finally’ ?”

He shrugs. “We do to a certain degree, but I mean, taking a billion photos with fans is just asking for trouble, man.” He pauses, giving Izuku a crooked grin. “And nothing, seriously. You heard nothing from me, yeah?”

Izuku bites his lip and lets the subject drop, if only because other guests had already begun to arrive. Denki writes his message and pins it up, leaving with a wink and a wave, but the word—finally—lingers in the back of his mind, even as he shakes hands and takes pictures.

Forty minutes before the ceremony starts, Izuku’s finally relieved from the sign-in desk, and he runs around, frantically making sure all of the preparations are ready.

“Iida-san,” he greets, nods, and Tenya’s older brother takes his boutonniere with a smile.

“Thank you,” he says. “It’s alright if you call me Tensei, you know? I can't be so formal with my little brother’s best man.” It’s said teasingly, and Izuku can't help but grin.

“Tensei-san, then,” he says, and he’s given a thumbs up before Tensei wheels away.

The rest of the boutonnieres are distributed with minimal difficulties, which he’s immensely thankful for, and he spends the remainder of the time with Tenya, calming him down.

“It’ll be fine,” he says, patting his back. Tenya exhales shakily, hands clenching and unclenching. In the quiet of the room, Izuku can hear his engines hum as they come to life. It’s a nervous tick, he knows, born from years of hero work and the need to prepare for any situation, but it’s not appropriate here.

“Look,” Izuku says. He places his hands square on Tenya’s shoulders, forcing him to make eye contact. “You've gotta turn those off. Now, repeat after me: I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be okay,” Tenya echoes. His engines quietly shift back to normal, bulky calves receding.

“Good. Everything is in place.”

“Everything is in place.”

“Everything is taken care of.”

“Everything is taken care of.”

“And it’ll go perfectly.”

“And it’ll go—” Tenya falters, and Izuku’s hands tighten around his shoulders. “—perfectly,” he finishes finally. He still looks a bit helpless, but better, and Izuku’s hands drop back into his lap. “Thank you, Izuku-kun.” Izuku offers him a smile, which Tenya returns, and there's a knock on the door a minute later.

“Tenya! Midoriya!” comes Ojiro’s muffled voice. “Everyone's arrived. It’s time for the ceremony to start.”

Tenya stands up unsteadily. “You’ll be great,” Izuku reminds him, one last time, and he nods carefully, takes a deep breath.

“I’ll do great.”

The ceremony goes without a hitch. Izuku takes his place next to Tenya, back straight, ring in his pocket, and Tenya himself is breathless as they watch Ochako proceed down the aisle.

She really does look beautiful, he thinks. Her mother had been the one to sew her dress, top to bottom, and Ochako looks proud—radiant—wearing it.

His eyes stray to the audience, where Katsuki is seated in the second row, next to Eijirou—a surprise, but not too much of a surprise. Ochako and Katsuki have always had a strange relationship. Next to them is Denki, and next to him is Todoroki.

Todoroki shifts, then, catching his eye, and one corner of his lips lifts up into a half-smile.

Denki’s earlier words return to the front of his mind. Finally, he’d said. The word swirls around in his head, and he drags his eyes away.

Finally.

As the best man, he dances with Momo, Ochako’s maid of honor. With heels, she’s a good half-head taller than him, and he spins her to the best of his abilities, grins as she laughs at his attempts.

“How’ve you been?” she asks quietly, later. They’re swaying to a slow song, and Kyouka’s waiting near the right, looking like she might forcibly remove Izuku if he doesn’t finish soon.

He knows what she’s talking about. There’d been an empty seat next to Aizawa, he remembers, left for All Might. His emotions simmer beneath his skin, making his veins feel like they’ve been filled with ice; he takes a breath. “I’ve been okay,” he responds, just as quiet. It’s the truth. His dreams don’t plague him, thanks to Todoroki, and he’s returning to hero work tomorrow.

Not great, and not bad—just okay.

Momo smiles at that, and it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s genuine. The song stops. Kyouka steps in, shoving the bouquet she’d caught into Izuku’s arms, and he bows out, sinks into a chair on the side.

Katsuki’s shouting about something across the room, and Eijirou’s laughing at him, hands pressing into his shoulders. Satou’s talking to Shouji, three slices of cake crammed onto his plate; next to them, Tsuyu, Tooru, and Mina are gathered in a circle, faces stern as they berate Mineta for something, but he’s hardly paying attention, drooling as he watches their bridesmaids dresses hike up.

“Midoriya,” someone says, and Izuku turns. He already knows who it’ll be. Todoroki stands next to him, cheeks slightly flushed.

“Todoroki-kun.” His lips tweak upwards at the image. “Did you drink a little?”

Todoroki shakes his head. “I don’t drink,” he says, slumping into chair next to Izuku. His legs stretch out in front of him. “I can’t hold alcohol well, but I didn’t know some of the food had some in it.”

“There shouldn’t be—Tenya didn’t want any. Aoyama must have snuck something in.” Izuku runs his hand down his face and considers telling Tenya, but decides against it. He’ll deal with it later; Tenya looks too happy for him to disturb.

Todoroki’s silent next to him, shifting and bringing their faces closer. Izuku’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “When do you think we’ll be heading home?”

Something flutters in his stomach. Home, he’d said. In reference to Izuku’s apartment. He’s not sure if he’d said it because of the tipsiness, but it makes him pause, think about the clothes in his closet that don’t belong to him, the extra bottles in his bathroom. He’s gotten so used to Todoroki’s presence in his home, all in the span of a few weeks.

He leans away. “After everything’s cleaned up, probably,” he says. Todoroki nods, satisfied, and Izuku catches Denki’s eye over his shoulder.

He winks.

His first day back, Izuku messes up.

“Midoriya-kun,” Nedzu says, voice patient. “Please explain.”

He doesn’t have an explanation, not really, and he fists his hands in his lap, trying to figure out what to say. He’d screwed up and nearly let their lead escape, because—All Might, he’d thought, and the activating word, smash, had gotten stuck in his throat. Fumikage and Sero had been there, backing him up, and they were the only reason the villain had been dragged back to headquarters in the end. He shakes his head, says, “I don’t have one, sir.”

Nedzu sighs. Aizawa isn’t here this time, and it’s the just the two of them in his office. “We don’t have any more time to give you, Midoriya-kun,” he says. It’s gentle, and Izuku knows that he understands what had happened, but understanding isn’t enough to cut it. “You can’t be distracted—not when lives are in danger like this. The Villain Alliance is on the move, and we need everyone to be focused and prepared for any given moment. You need to move on, or you’ll start to endanger your friends.”

Izuku clenches his jaw. “I understand,” he whispers. His hands slowly uncurl, and there are small marks where his nails had dug into his palm.

Nedzu’s expression is unreadable, but he nods. “I hope we don’t have to have this conversation again, Midoriya-kun. You’re dismissed.”

Todoroki’s waiting for him outside, arms folded, and he pushes off the wall when Izuku comes out of the door. “How’d it go?”

Izuku’s steps falter, and his voice is stiff as it comes out of his mouth. “I was reprimanded,” he says. “But I deserved it—I mean, what was I thinking? I nearly let our only lead escape!”

Todoroki’s eyes widen, and all at once, feelings he thought he’d gotten under control wash over him. Bitterness, grief, and disappointment stir inside of him, colliding with each other until he’s a mess of emotions, and it spills into his words as they rise, as he says, “I thought I would be—I thought I was okay, and I was okay during my leave, but when I finally had to use One For All, I thought about All Might, and I—” His voice cracks, and he presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, mouth trembling.

Todoroki pulls him into a loose hug, arms fitting awkwardly around him, but the warmth of it is comforting. “Midoriya,” he starts, voice calm, and he puts his chin on his head. “We know what All Might was to you. Nobody expects you to forget him.”

Izuku’s breath catches, and he remembers words from weeks ago, from his dreams. You’re forgetting me, aren’t you? All Might had said. “I couldn’t do it,” he mumbles. He squeezes his eyes shut, and he leans in, presses his forehead against Todoroki’s collarbone. “I’m not forgetting him, but I can’t—I can’t think about him either. I can’t even use One For All, Todoroki-kun.”

Todoroki’s arms tighten around him. “It’ll be alright,” he says, quiet, and Izuku doesn’t respond. He breathes in the silence, instead.

They don’t talk about it later, when Izuku’s feeling better and more like his usual self, and he’s grateful. He wouldn’t know what to say if Todoroki’d pushed.

Nedzu removes him from the division hunting down the Villain Alliance, and it stings, but he knows he’s a danger in the state he’s in, letting his emotions take control over him like this. It stings, but he bites his lip, bows out of Nedzu's office and silently takes it.

"There's another lead on the Villain Alliance," Todoroki says one morning. Izuku stills in the middle of dumping sugar into his coffee. "In America. Nedzu's sending me, Kirishima, and Shinsou."

"Hitoshi?"

"Information extraction, if we can find anybody."

Todoroki isn't looking at him. "Okay," he says, and he gives him a smile. Todoroki relaxes, shoulders loosening like his strings were cut. "How long will you be gone?"

"A week," he says. Their eyes meet. Izuku is the first to look away, focusing on his pancakes instead. "We're leaving this afternoon."

"Okay," he says again, and he exhales, feels like his lungs might shatter.

The first night without Todoroki is strange, although he knows they’ve only been doing—whatever it is, for less than a month. Still, he thinks, rolling over. The bed is cold, and it feels like there’s more space than he knows what to do with. He falls asleep after hours of staring at the ceiling, fatigue finally pulling him into slumber.

long time no see, all might says. they’re in the hospital again. this time, he’s in his true form, hospital gown hanging off his gaunt frame.

izuku swallows, opens his mouth to respond. nothing comes out again, and frustration wells up inside him.

you’re forgetting me, midoriya-kun, he says. it’s not a question this time, and all might looks out of the window. izuku feels an overwhelming powerlessness, sitting there in silence.

the scene shifts, and he’s staring at all might’s casket. it must be empty, because all might himself is standing next to him.

you haven’t visited my grave, have you?  he’s smiling, like he’s asking for his favorite color instead, and izuku shakes his head. he can’t lie to all might, not even in his dreams.

all might continues smiling, turning to face his grave. you’re at least trying to forget me, then, he says, gentle and good-natured, and izuku swallows hard. he still can’t speak, and the scene shifts again. he knows it’ll be the last.

he’s standing in his old classroom at yuuei, and before him is—

—himself.

all might, says the izuku before him. he’s younger, around the fifteen year old version of himself, and his face is grim, serious. why did you leave us?

izuku opens his mouth, finding with surprise that he can speak. what do you mean? he asks. the voice that comes out is booming and deep—all might’s, he realizes.

other-izuku gives him a pitiful smile, and it’s strange to see the expression on his own features. you’re dead, all might, he says, and you left us alone to deal with the villain alliance.

it’ll be alright, izuku says, and the words that come out of his mouth next aren't his own. i'll still live on in your heart. you just have to remember me.

other-izuku laughs, like he'd been told a hilarious joke. that's so cheesy, he says, but there are tears in his eyes when he speaks next, and they run down his cheeks. then what’ll happen to you if i forget?

I can't keep doing this, he thinks, splashing water on his face, and his eyes are bloodshot as he stares into the mirror.

He manages to get by on three hours of sleep a day for most of the week, taking carefully timed naps when he feels like he can't keep his eyes open any longer. He feels like he might end up bleeding coffee.

“Midoriya,” Ojiro says on Tuesday. Izuku looks up from his cell phone, and it takes him a second for his vision to refocus. Ojiro's frowning. “Are you getting sleep?”

He gives him a tired smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“More than obvious,” Kendou pipes in, sidling up next to them. She gives him a sympathetic look. “No offense, but you look like hell.”

“I feel like hell,” he mutters. His eyes are itching from lack of sleep, and he slaps his cheeks, trying to keep them open.

But, he thinks idly, it's better than dealing with the dreams at night. He doesn't sleep long enough to have dreams, and the naps on the side give him enough energy to make it through patrols.

On Thursday, his brain feels more than a little muggy, and he slips.

The case itself hadn't been a too difficult one, but he forgets, when they're rounding up the criminals, to double check the ropes binding their hands like he normally would. One of them—the one with the levitating Quirk—slips a hand free, and she waves it at him, levitates a rock into the back of his head.

He’s out like a light.

“—yes, he’ll be alright—”

“With all due respect, ma’am, are you sure? ”

“Yes, boy, how long do you think I’ve been doing this? It was just a head injury—look, he’s waking up now!”

Izuku opens his eyes blearily, head pounding and limbs heavy. Ochako and Tenya stare back at him, faces anxious, and he cracks his lips in a smile. “Hi,” he says. His voice is hoarse.

Tenya stares back at him, eyes wide with concern, and Ochako’s lips wobble. “Deku-kun!” She looks like she might hug him, but refrains at the last second. “We were so worried!”

“They said there was a lot of blood,” Tenya says, shoulders slumping. He pushes up his glasses with a discreet sniffle.

Recovery Girl trots around them, coming around the bed to adjust it to a sitting position. “Head injuries bleed a lot. Of course, I had you right as rain in a jiffy, but—well, you wouldn’t wake up, and we were getting quite worried. You’ve been out for about thirty hours.” She turns to Ochako and Tenya, making motions with her hands. “Now, shoo! I have to speak with him privately.”

They bow and leave, and Recovery Girl pulls a stool up next to bed, sitting at eye level. He knows what’s coming. “Midoriya,” she says, expression stern, and it leaves no room for lies. “Have you been sleeping?”

He looks down, playing with the corners of the blankets. “Not well,” he says. The words come out of his mouth reluctantly, and they hang in the air, weighed down by her heavy stare. It’s a half-truth, and thinking about the reality of it makes him wonder if he’d simply been too tired to dream this time.

“Look, Midoriya,” she starts, “I’ve known you since you for nearly ten years, and I’ve never seen you like this before. You need to talk to someone about this, whatever it is, before you harm yourself even further.”

Izuku nods, still not meeting her eyes. He hears her sigh. “I’ll discharge you tonight,” she says finally, and she shuffles away, disappearing behind her office curtain.

There’s a knock on the door, less than a minute later, and it opens before he can tell them to come in. Todoroki steps in.

“Todoroki-kun? What—” He winces when his voice breaks. “What are you doing here?”

“Why do you think?” he says wryly, sitting down on the stool. “Why is it that I always seem to be asking if you’re alright?”

Izuku almost laughs. “I wanna know, too,” he says, leaning further back into his pillows.

“Ojiro said you haven't been sleeping, you know,” Todoroki says after a beat, and there's a question in his words, in the way his voice lilts slightly at the end.

Izuku’s silent, head bowed and hands fisting in his lap. There's a sigh and a rustle, and when he looks up again, Todoroki’s frowning at him. “You know,” he’s saying, “I don't ever ask any questions because I trust you, but I’m going to cut it here.” He pauses, leans forward, eyes intent. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

There's a million things he wants to say at once, suddenly, and he feels the pressure in his chest, like a rising storm. Should I tell him? he thinks, frantic. Recovery Girl’s earlier words are sharp in his mind: You need to talk to someone about this.

He cracks.

“I’ve been having—dreams,” he says, and his words fall out of him in a stuttering mess. “Since All Might’s funeral, and—I don't—I don't know what they mean, but they just keep coming and coming, and he keeps saying that I’m forgetting him and I want to say—I want to say no, I’m not, but I can't speak.” He exhales shakily. “Not once, not ever. And I couldn't—I can't keep having them. I always wake up with tears on my pillow.”

All at once, it’s spilling out of him. “I don't know why, but you—you stopped them from coming, and then I was alright for some time, but you left for the week, and then—I don't know. I didn't want to sleep. Not if they were just going to keep coming back. And then I got like this.” He gestures to himself, and Todoroki takes in a sharp breath.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” he asks finally, slowly, and he purses his lips, says, “We could’ve—we would’ve helped you, if you’d told us.”

“Sorry,” Izuku whispers.

Todoroki shakes his head. “Don’t apologize,” he says, and he runs a hand through his hair. “You know, tomorrow’s my mother’s death anniversary.”

It’s so sudden—or it seems sudden—that Izuku blinks in surprise. “What?”

Todoroki looks down, says, “When she first died, I had dreams, too. She would keep apologizing for—” He gestures to his scar. “I’d keep telling her that it was alright and that I forgave her, but she wouldn’t stop. So I went to my sister about it, and she told me—” He pauses, lifts his head to meet his eyes, and Izuku can’t look away. “She told me that I hadn’t really accepted her death, and that I hadn’t moved on yet.”

His next words are soft, quiet, but Izuku’s heart splinters and cracks just the same. “You haven’t accepted All Might’s death yet, Midoriya. You can move on without forgetting him.”

Izuku had tried cross-dressing once, for an assignment. He'd been all wrong for it; maybe he'd have been able to pull off the dress when he'd been younger, but as a fully grown adult, he'd learned to control his Quirk, and his body had grown with it. It wasn't soft enough, too flat at the wrong spots, and they'd had to find someone else to take the role.

Going to bed that night feels a little like that. His arms fold against his chest, and Todoroki’s steady, even breathing is warm against the back of his neck. He’d asked for it because they’d wake up similarly anyway, but they don’t fit together. Izuku’s head collides with Todoroki’s chin when he moves, and Todoroki will probably wake up with half of his body sore in the morning.

But Todoroki is warm—safe, he thinks—and he falls asleep anyway.

the scene is familiar. he's at yuuei, and all might stands in front of the classroom, hero form activated.

all might, he says. why did you leave us?

all might opens and closes his mouth, head tilted in confusion. it’s a strange sight to see when he’s in this form, and he straightens, says, what do you mean?

izuku’s lips turn up in a smile. you’re dead, all might, and you left us alone to deal with the villain alliance.

it’ll be alright, all might responds. he’s still smiling, but it feels different, somehow. i’ll still live on in your heart. you just have to remember me.

the words are so incredibly like him that he laughs. that’s so cheesy, he’s saying, but there are tears prickling in his eyes. he blinks and feels them run. then what’ll happen to you if i forget?

all might is the one to laugh, then. he comes around his desk, making his way to him, and he towers over izuku even when he kneels down. but you won’t, will you?

izuku’s lips shake. no, i won’t.

Izuku wakes up in the morning, bed warm and empty next to him. This is it, he thinks. It feels like an immense pressure's been lifted off of his shoulders, and happiness unfolds inside of him, tinged with relief.

He pads out to the living room and watches Todoroki as he rummages through the fridge for something to eat, feels a familiar fondness at the picture, and he pauses, thinks—Oh.

Todoroki looks up. "What's wrong?" he asks, frowning, and Izuku realizes that something must have shown on his face.

He's standing there, hair messy and one sock missing, and Izuku's chest tightens. "I think I'm in love with you," he blurts out, pink flush crawling up his neck. He pulls his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Todoroki freezes in place, eyes widening. It's like he'd accidentally used his Quirk on himself, and Izuku turns away, face burning.

"I—" Todoroki's words falter in the air. "Midoriya—"

Izuku shakes his head, says, "It's okay. Just—go, please."

He does.

The confession leaves a taste behind.

It tastes like regret.

He’s lying on his bed later, folded in on himself and drowning in his own thoughts when he remembers a word from the wedding. Finally, Denki had said, and it sticks in his mind, bugs him until he reaches for his phone and dials him. He knows there’s something he’s not catching there.

Denki picks up after the second ring. “Izuku?” His voice is muffled. “What’s up?”

“Denki,” he says, breathes. “Remember when you asked if me and Todoroki’d finally gotten together? What did you mean by that?”

There’s a second of silence, and then a rustle. “Bro, seriously?” Denki says, voice clearer this time. “Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

Izuku bites back his frustration, says, “I know, but this is—this is really important.” In an afterthought, he tacks on, “Please.”

Denki’s silent again, and Izuku’s restlessness starts to grow. “Okay,” he says finally, sounding almost reluctant. “You know how he’s been single this entire time, right? It’s because he’s never liked anyone but you, man.”

He takes three seconds to process the information, and he hangs up after a fourth, scrambles to change after a fifth. Shit, he thinks.

"Have you seen Todoroki-kun?"

Katsuki sneers, arm braced on his doorway, and Izuku meets his gaze levelly. At twenty-four, they've both grown to be about the same height. Katsuki resents it. Loudly.

"This thing you have with Todoroki," he's saying, spitting out his words, and they land at Izuku's feet. "Get your shit together already, Deku. We're all tired of seeing you dance around each other."

Izuku blinks, slowly, and then looks down. "I told him I'm in love with him," he murmurs. His hands fidget with the bottom of his sweater. "And then I told him to leave, and he did, and now I'm looking for him."

He glances up. Katsuki's expression has changed, shifting into something more nervous-like, less like himself.

"Come inside," he says stiffly, like the words had to be forced out of him. Izuku's so surprised by the invitation that he nearly trips on the doormat, but he manages.

Eijirou’s in their living room, wrapped in a blanket as he watches TV on the floor. “Katsuki, hey, who was it?” he asks, turning. Izuku gives him a small wave, grin sheepish.

Katsuki jabs his thumb at him, moving to sit next to Eijirou. “Said he’s looking for Todoroki.”

Eijirou’s eyes flicker back and forth between them curiously. “Todoroki? What happened?”

Izuku sighs and gives him the same explanation he’d given to Katsuki, kneeling next to them, and Eijirou laughs. “Holy shit, seriously? The dude's been pining after your ass since high school," he says with a grin. "Dunno how you didn't notice it, but it was pretty obvious to a whole buncha us."

Izuku splutters. "I—" he stammers. "I—I didn't know—"

Eijirou cuts him off with a wave of his hand, and Katsuki rolls his eyes in the background. "We knew that. More importantly, Todoroki knew that, and he made sure nobody said anything."

He deflates. "Why didn't he tell me anything?"

“You weren’t exactly screaming interest,” Eijirou says, shrugging. “I’d’ve gone for it—” Katsuki snorts, and Eijirou shoves him, grinning. “—but it’s Todoroki we’re talking about, yeah? He doesn’t seem like the type to wanna risk it and get rejected.”

“You didn’t come here just for love advice, did you?” Katsuki drawls, and Izuku shakes his head.

Eijirou stares at him intently. “Are you sure you don’t know where he might be?”

Izuku opens his mouth, ready to say, yes, and I’m getting desperate, when a thought comes to him. Eijirou leans back, satisfied, grins and says, “Go get ‘em, man!”

Todoroki’s where he thought he’d be, kneeling and praying in front of his mother’s grave, flowers set down in front of him. He looks up when he hears Izuku’s footsteps, rising to his feet.

Izuku stops in front of him, panting from the distance he’d run. Now that he’s in front of him, he has no idea what to say, and Todoroki’s watching him too, face blank.

“Denki told me—” Izuku starts, faltering. “About how you—since high school—”

Todoroki sighs, crossing his arms, and Izuku’s mouth snaps shut.

“I shouldn’t have run away,” Todoroki says, after what feels like forever. There are twin spots of red high on his cheeks, and Izuku thinks it’s cute, despite everything.

“No,” Izuku says. He twists his hands together behind his back, trying to still their shaking. He feels like he’s fourteen again, confessing to somebody behind a school, rather than a grown adult. “I shouldn’t have told you to leave.”

It feels like there’s a thin string of something between them, waiting to be broken, but Izuku doesn’t know how to snap it.

Todoroki’s still watching him, but there’s warmth in his eyes now, he thinks. “There’s probably somewhere better to do this,” he murmurs, turning to the grave, and Izuku lets out a soft laugh, letting out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding.

“Probably,” he agrees. He tilts his head to the grave, says, “I think my dreams have stopped, you know. Because of what you said.”

Todoroki glances back sharply, and his lips curve into a smile, small but there, and the string snaps. “That’s good,” he mumbles. Izuku’s blood is rushing in his ears, and Todoroki leans forward, giving him a soft, chaste kiss. Izuku makes a small noise, and Todoroki pulls away.

“Sorry,” he says. Steam’s starting to rise from his left side, and Izuku laughs again, feels his entire body loosen.

“It’s fine,” he says brightly, and he tugs Todoroki back down by the back of his neck, tangles his fingers in red and white hair. “If it’s alright, I’d like to keep kissing you.”

He’s smiling, even as Todoroki coaxes his mouth open. There’s still small amounts of steam rising from Todoroki’s skin, but Izuku’s a little embarrassed too, heart pounding wildly against what he feels like might be a rib cage made of glass. In the back of his mind, he realizes how bad this might seem to an onlooker—the both of them, kissing in front of someone’s grave—but he really, really can’t bring himself to care.

“You should call me Shouto,” Todoroki says later. Izuku’s pressed against him, back to chest.

“Call me Izuku, then,” he says, smiles, and he flicks through the TV channels, watching as a news reporter details the events of another hit by the Villain Alliance. There’s a bright and bold headline above her, and it says, WILL ALL MIGHT COME BACK TO SAVE US AGAIN?  Gesturing to the screen, he asks, “Do you think we’ll be okay?”

Todoroki—Shouto—dips his head, presses a kiss into his hair. He says, "We'll be okay," and exhales softly, hold around him tightening.

Izuku believes him.

.

.

.

fini.