Work Text:
You are kinder than the cruelest thing
that’s ever been done to you.
Stars dance throughout the clear, indigo sky; the spaces between them illuminated by the twinkle.
The classmates of 1-A are settled in their (hilariously) giant tent. They’re in a forest clearing preparing for a mission. Professor Aizawa deemed them all fit to observe different pro-hero’s practices as they prepared for a mission that involved taking down several villains as one. The class was here for the night as they began their adventure. Throughout the day, they worked with their abilities, honing up their skills last minute. After about a year of practice and classes, they all finally felt like they were going to be real heroes. Yes, a lot of what had been happening was unorthodox and weird, but they felt safe. For once, it was all going to plan.
Eyelids flutter as Izuku attempts to wake up from his unconscious state; he slowly sits up to absorb his surroundings better.
Iida is laying next to him, blankets drawn up so high his nose is covered. His feet are exposed—this is expected since, he is, half of his classmate’s sizes. His night cap is somehow perfectly placed on his head; the same spot he put it before. He hasn’t moved an inch. Izuku has often examined the way Iida sleeps before. He can’t help himself. He is fixed on him. He longs to curl up next to him, to wrap his arms around him.
It’s easy. He wants Iida to be loved.
He knows how hard it’s been for him.
It’s not easy to turn an eye away from the breakdowns he notices when he walks by Iida’s room. Soft, muffled sobs are often heard. He knows Iida buries his face in pillows and attempts to mask his pain.
He attempted to help, once.
It happened within the move-in week of their UA dorms.
Izuku could not sleep (he was prone to traumatic nightmares involving numerous villains) so he walked to the dorm kitchen to grab some water. During this time, he will talk himself out of his ridiculous nightmare. So much so he will bore himself to sleep.
Izuku passed down the rooms, went to the kitchen, and filled up a glass with water. As he gulped the liquid hurriedly, he heard shuffling within the main room.
He paused. Did he want to get involved with whatever was going on? Would an actual super villain lack in effort to be quiet while attempting to kidnap a student?
Well, whatever. He was going to die one day anyways.
He opened the door to see Iida, in his pajamas, with a tear-stained face. He was sitting on the couch, slouched over, arms on knees. His night cap was next to him; his hair was in disarray. When he looked up and saw Izuku, he swiftly straightened up and faked a smile.
“What are you doing here, Midoriya? I was just trying to think of different ways to improve my technique. Everyone is doing so well here. I want to keep up as the class president. It’s important, you know? To keep up? I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Well, anyways, I think I’m going to…”
“Why were you crying?” Izuku asked bluntly. He set down the water on the coffee table and sat next to him. “You don’t have to pretend to be peppy, Iida. We’ve talked about this before.”
It took awhile for Iida to find his words. He slouched again, looking away.
“I don’t know how to get over what happened to my brother.”
“Then let me help you, Iida.”
“I… I’m not going to go crazy again, you see,” Iida sighed. “I’m not. Justice was… served as best as it could but it’s so hard. Even if it’s been so long. It’s still hard.”
“What is?”
“I don’t know… I…” Iida turned to face Izuku, looking at him intensely.
Whenever Iida’s eyes met Izuku’s, his stomach flipped.
“It’s just… feelings stuff, stuff that I can’t decipher myself. I want to talk to you about them when I know what I’m feeling.”
Izuku took Iida’s hands and laced his fingers with his.
“Please, Iida…”
Iida looked away again. “I thank you for your help, Midoriya, but I just have to go through these motions myself. It hasn’t been easy for my family, and I don’t want to waste all of my emotional energy and dump that onto you—and—before you object, I’ll be okay. This is just what I have to go through.”
Iida took his hands away slowly—Izuku could feel his heart bellow in pain.
“Thank you, Midoriya,” he said quietly; his face tucked away in the shadows of the night.
Izuku sat there a few more minutes to calm himself.
It was hard to reach out to him. Even after all of this time, even after the distance had closed between them, he kept some things apart.
Izuku stared intently at Iida, hoping he would awake so they could talk. It’s been so long.
You are so good, bad people are ready
to break every cruel word over their knee.
Iida knows Midoriya is looking at him. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes. He knows he wants to talk things out with him.
Especially about what happened that night. He knows he’s loved by everyone but,
It was hard.
He knows Midoriya only wants to help. Of course he does. How could he describe what he feels so bluntly to him, though?
“Hey, I cry sometimes at night (Midoriya knows this) because I feel like a failure. I don’t think I’m strong enough anymore. Despite the night that changed everything, I get so doubtful about my own power to this day. I know this power is mine, I know I’ve made it mine, and I’m thankful for that. I can never replaced my brother, but I can still honor his name. But how can I prove myself to be original? How can I rise up and not get so caught up within myself? How do I separate rules? Everything is becoming a blur to me.”
Nothing was clear cut anymore. Everything was gray. He used to think that life just came in a set: you’ve got your good morals, and your bad morals. Society made him believe that. The pro-heroes made him believe that.
What changed him were the villains.
Stain, so cunning with his words, so twisted as he managed to maneuver his way into Iida’s head, locked him into defeat until Midoriya and Todoroki helped him.
And since then, every villain was difficult. Iida knew it was going to be tough, but when were the words going to stop getting into his head? He took everything to heart. He studied everything so meticulously; so carefully, that, he became too open with his heart.
He was scared, too, of other things.
He remembered that night as well.
Iida found different places to let out his feelings. He found that if he holed himself in his room, he would hate his room. Which sucked because he loved his room (it was the most unique one, of course).
He still often cried in his room.
So he went all around the building. Uraraka’s room (to clarify: he never cried in front of her; he enjoyed letting her carry on whatever conversation they had), a doorway outside, an empty classroom, and even Hatsume’s workplace (when she wasn’t there).
Today, he found himself in the living room.
He felt his vision blur when sat on the couch. He carefully took off his glasses to wipe them when needed to. Then, he recognized someone’s presence in the kitchen. Who the heck doesn’t turn on a light when they enter somewhere? Well, it’s not like he could say anything. He was literally just sitting in the dark.
It didn’t surprise him exactly when Midoriya walked in—he always had a knack for being somewhere at the right time.
He adjusted his posture and feigned a happy face. Then, he felt himself… babble. It was embarrassing. Time to go.
“Well, anyways, I think I’m going to…”
“Why were you crying?” Midoriya asked him. He set down whatever he was holding; telling him words of encouragement.
Speak out, Iida.
.
.
.
He couldn’t.
He took a dance around the subject. It was hard to talk to Midoriya when all he wanted to do was sob into his arms and explain his woes. No. He wasn’t going to do that. Not to him.
He finally looked directly at Midoriya.
“It’s just… feelings stuff, stuff that I can’t decipher myself. I want to talk to you about them when I know what I’m feeling.”
When Midoriya took his hand and laced their fingers together, Iida’s breath hitched. Electricity ran through his body as he processed the simple gesture. He couldn’t move. His desire to pull Midoriya up more so they could finally kiss was so strong he had to look away.
“Thank you, Midoriya,” he mumbled, getting up slowly to leave.
He needed to focus on his work. He couldn’t think about something like that right now.
If you asked me to cut out my heart,
I would gladly do it with my own knife.
Iida jolted up, startling even Midoriya.
“Let’s talk about this,” he said, putting pressure on every word.
Izuku could only nod in agreement as they made their way outside; far away from the others.
They settled on another forest clearing. The trees that surrounded the area created a peaceful noise as they whooshed with every wind that circled by. The moonlight radiated on everything it touched; creating a natural nightlight. The grass was cold under their feet; they had avoided the knobby roots from the trees. The air tasted damp and earthy, but they were able to make their way out of the thickets in peace…
Now, it was just the two of them. Iida takes off his nightcap and holds it firmly in one hand. They stand, facing the other.
After an awkward silence—
“Are you okay, Iida?” Izuku asks quietly.
“I don’t know how to talk to you,” Iida frustratedly says, pointing his free hand down. “It’s hard. I don’t know how to explain to you how I don’t feel like a good hero-”
“Wait, you don’t feel like a good hero-”
“Who isn’t original, who doesn’t keep up with his own morals-”
“Iida-”
“Who might as well be a villain because I’m so pathetic, even when Todoroki had explained to me otherwise, I-”
“Iida!” Izuku interjects, grasping both of his hands. “Iida, you’re not a villain. You’re not any of those things.”
“Even if not-” Iida says, tears brimming up, “I’m a liar!”
“How are you a liar, Iida, you call your mom when you forget to brush your teeth-”
“I’m a liar about my feelings for you !” Iida shouts, helpless as he looks the other way. He pulls away his hands.
“Feelings… for me?” Izuku stares, dumbfounded.
“Yes! Yes!” He pulls away, “I don’t know what it is! I don’t want to lose you, Midoriya.”
Iida feels like he’s drowning, Izuku is reeling him in.
“I don’t want to lose the most important person in my life. I’m so scared,” Iida says, full-blown tears falling down his face. He takes off his glasses, holding them gently between two fingers as he wipes his face with his other hand. “Things have been happening! I’m so scared to lose you. I want to protect you. I really do promise to protect you, Midoriya.”
Izuku nodded, a smile bursting from his face.
“Iida, I feel the same about you. I want to protect you too,” he takes Iida’s hands into his own once more. He’s determined to never let them go this time.
“We don’t have to lose one another if we work together.”
Iida stared, dumbfounded, “Really?”
“Yes, I promise.” Izuku said, squeezing them. “We’re not going to lose one another. We’re going to stay together. We’re going to protect each other. I know you’ve been going through so much, Iida, but you don’t have to go through it alone. I still feel worthless sometimes. The feelings don’t go away. You have the entire class. We’ve got each other .”
Iida’s face softens; his body finally relaxes. The pressure and stress of what felt like years was melting away. Izuku had mentally taken off such a load.
He had to hunch over to place his head on Midoriya’s shoulder.
.
.
.
“We have each other?” Iida asks, mumbling the words into Izuku’s shoulder.
“We have each other,” Izuku firmly states, wrapping his arms around Iida, as much as he could.
They hold onto the other for a long time, sealing the promise.
.
.
.
end