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The day after the Sport’s Festival blooms bright. His mom throws open his door around afternoon, letting him sleep in, but not too much. Izuku rolls over, burying his head into his pillow with a groan.
His hands ache a little, painkillers and Recovery Girl’s quirk easing the pain, but not entirely. He flexes them under the covers, a slight burn shooting through his fingers.
“C’mon Izuku! Breakfast!” His mom calls from the kitchen. Izuku sighs, sitting up and looking at the alarm clock. Lunch is probably more accurate, but he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.
Grabbing his phone off the dresser Izuku stops in surprise at the sheer number of notifications. Most are from Uraraka, asking if he’s okay and then linking a bunch of articles about their fights.
The articles have Izuku flushing from toe to ear tip. He doesn’t dare open them, though he bookmarks the one about Uraraka and Kacchan that she put heart emojis next to. They must not underestimate or badmouth Uraraka for being a girl.
There’s one short text from Iida that has Izuku frowning and he shoots off a ‘Good Morning!’ to the other. Iida usually puts more into his texts, but he was called out early from the Festival...Izuku hopes he’s okay.
One text has Izuku pausing before the bathroom door. Todoroki actually used his number! He pumps his fist before wincing at the movement.
Whatever! He made progress! Even if the text is only ‘Hello this is midoriya right?”.
Progress!
He flicks through the rest of the notifications, mostly just forums and news sites, all of them pretty much Sport’s Festival focused. No big villain attacks. He trashes them with a flick.
That only leaves…
Eight missed calls.
Izuku furrows his eyebrows, looking at the time. Each call was pretty late in the night. The same number, spaced around twenty to thirty minutes apart until they stopped at five thirty.
“Hey mom,” he asks, coming into the kitchen, “I got some weird calls last night.”
“Oh?” She gestures at him and he hands his phone over.
There’s a beat of silence where she stares at the phone with flared nostrils and Izuku finds himself tensing.
“Ah,” his mom finally says, “It’s your father.”
A skip-scratch in his head empties it of all thoughts and for a glimmering second Izuku thinks he may have misheard.
“My…”
“Your father,” she confirms, handing the phone back, mouth pressed in a line.
Izuku stares at it, thumb pressed against the screen.
“Oh.”
His mom attempts a smile, patting him on the shoulder.
“Let’s eat and then you can call him, okay?”
Izuku nods, half-way floating out of his body at the news. He slides his phone on the counter, backing away quickly. His stomach gives a twist just looking at the innocuous device, and he turns, collapsing in a chair.
He startles when his mom runs a hand through his hair.
“It’ll be okay,” she says, “I’m here.”
A smile pulls at his lips.
Breakfast is quiet as he tries not to think about the phone call looming ahead. Izuku doesn’t eat as much as usual but his mom says nothing, her eyes pinched in worry.
Izuku drags himself away from the table, breathing deeply.
“You don’t have to right away,” his mom says, placing a hand over his.
He gently pulls his hand out from under her hand, “I know, but the later I wait, the later it is over there.”
The phone sits innocuous on the counter, not deserving of the dread he feels in picking it up. He steps toward his room before pausing. His room is...it’s a safe spot. He doesn’t want to have a serious conversation there.
Pivoting, Izuku heads toward the front door.
“Izuku?”
“I’m just gonna go take this outside, okay?”
“You sure?”
He bites his lip, “Yeah.”
The sun is warm, clouds blocking out most of its harshness. Izuku hops down the steps of the apartment complex, heading to the side of the building. The phone is heavy in his hand and he rests against the side of the building, under the shade.
Scrolling to where the number sits in his recent calls, he pauses, letting loose a shaky breath.
“It’s okay,” he mutters to himself. Izuku presses the call button, heart in his throat, The call back rings steadily in his ear and his heart beats fast. Faster. Faster.
His hand is shaking, palm sweaty under the bandages.
For one hopeful minute, Izuku thinks it’ll go to voicemail. That he can just leave a quick message and move on, talk to his friends, read the stupid tabloids, and let his mom re-do his wrappings.
But-
“Hello?”
Izuku freezes, back pressed against the brick wall.
“Hello?” More annoyed now, maybe confused.
“H-hello.” Izuku manages, twisting his shirt roughly.
A pause, Izuku can only hear his own breathing in the silence.
“Izuku?”
“Yeah,” Izuku swallows, loud enough to hear through the phone. His tongue is too big for his mouth, chalky, and he presses it down below his bottom teeth.
“Son, it’s been such a long time since we’ve talked!”
Izuku winces, a yawning pit of guilt opening in his stomach.
“I- I didn’t know your new number,” he says, “Or I would’ve called.”
He hopes it sounds biting.
He hopes it doesn’t.
The bandages around his fingers are too stiff, too stifling all of a sudden.
“Would you?” His dad laughs.
“Of course!” Izuku says.
There’s a chuckle behind the phone’s speaker. Izuku stares at the blank expanse of the other apartment complex’s wall in front of him.
“Well,” His dad says, “I’ve missed you.”
What Izuku wants to say is:
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
What Izuku does say is:
“Me too.”
“Oh, did you get the birthday gift I sent you? Sorry it was late, but I was busy.”
By late, dad meant in January. By gift, dad meant an old All Might movie with the five dollar sicker still on it.
“Yeah,” Izuku says, weakly, “I really liked it.”
“Good! Good! You’re a little old to be into that All Might stuff, you know? But I thought you’d like it!”
Izuku slides down the wall, holding his knees with one arm tightly against his chest.
“I- plenty of people my age are into All Might!” He tries to protest.
A sigh.
“I suppose, but that brings me to why I called in the first place!”
“Um,” Izuku clears his throat, hands trembling, “Why was that?”
There’s only one reason Izuku can think of. The last time his dad directly called him was when he first entered junior high. Not even getting into UA had warranted one.
Yet.
He bites his lip.
“I saw you on television! The Sport’s Festival!”
“Ah- yeah!” Izuku laughs awkwardly, “That was me.”
His toes curl in his shoes, knees pressed as close to his chest as he can get them.
“So you have a quirk now?”
There it is.
Izuku swallows.
“Y-yeah, turns out I’m a late bloomer! Needed to get my body to a certain fitness, conditional quirks can be finicky…”
The nails on his free hand dig into his palms.
A beat of silence, Izuku’s heartbeat thrums in his ears.
“Congratulations! I never understood the whole hero thing, but good on you!”
A smile creeps up on his face, maybe his dad is awkward but maybe-
“And here I was thinking you’d be handicapped your whole life!”
Oh.
“U-uh,” Izuku can’t make the words come up, balled up in his mouth and tack-sticky to his cheeks.
“Knew I shouldn’t have let your mom take you to that quack quirk doctor, I don’t care that he was your friend’s grandpa, he clearly got his degree online.”
Izuku still can’t speak.
“Well I just called to say how I’m proud of you for figuring it out. I’ll send something over, okay? It’s not every day your kid discovers his quirk, even if it is later than everyone else.”
“R-right,” Izuku spits out.
This is the first time he’s heard those words.
I’m proud of you.
Not even for his performance, not for his school, not for his grades...no it’s for gaining a quirk.
He shoves back tears, wiping his hand at the edges of his eyes and stifling a sniffle.
“Anyway, love you but I gotta go. Call me sooner next time, I hate waiting months in between calls. It’s rude to leave your old man hanging.”
“...Of course.”
“Goodbye!”
“...Bye.”
The phone disconnects and Izuku lets it drop to his lap, burying his head in his arms. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, pressing his eyes so hard against his arm that he sees red on black under his eyelids.
He jumps when he’s touched on the shoulder suddenly, whirling around to see it’s just his mom, crouched down with a worried look on her face.
“Izuku...are you alright?”
He attempts a wobbly smile, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
She frowns, “I don’t think you are, what happened?”
Izuku glances down at the phone precariously perched on the edge of his lap.
“Dad just...said some things.”
“What things?” He jumps at the stern tone. Izuku’s never heard his mom this angry before. Her face is twisted into a scowl and the grip she has on his shoulder tightens.
Thinking back to the words, Izuku can’t stop his face from crumpling in time. His mom’s eyes widen and she wraps him in a tight hug.
“Izuku, it’s okay, it’s okay!”
He sniffles, forcing the words out, “He said he was proud of me...for getting a quirk.”
The words hang in the air, a sword above his head, because what if his mom thinks the same? What if she’s only happy about UA because he has a quirk now?
“Izuku,” she says, grabbing his face and turning it up towards herself, “Izuku I’m going to call Hisashi and chew him out in a minute, but you are worth more than your quirk. I’ve always been proud of you! And if he can’t see that, then he doesn’t need to be talking to you, does he?”
A sob finally breaks loose and he throws himself back into her arms. She rubs his back, murmuring reassurances in his ear.
“Thank you,” He whispers into her hair and her arms tighten around him.
“There’s nothing to thank,” she replies, “I love you and I’ve always been so proud of you. I’m sorry if you weren’t able to see it.”
Izuku smiles so hard it hurts. He doesn’t know if he quite believes that he’s been something to be proud of, but he can at least trust his mom isn’t lying.
She’s been here the entire time, after all.