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Izuku is four years old when he first learns about Soulmates. This is before his quirkless diagnosis, and the resulting years of hurt and anger and tears.
He and Kacchan are sitting on the living room floor amongst a slew of colorful blankets and pillows, watching the newest, coolest, most awesome All Might movie ever. Mom’s in the kitchen making dinner, while Aunty Mitsuki sits at the table talking cheerfully, though Izuku doesn’t really know what they’re talking about, since the movie holds far too much of his attention to be sure—
But then his mom lets out a sudden sharp yelp that has him scrambling to his feet and rushing to the kitchen as fast has his tiny little four-year-old legs will carry him.
“Mommy?”
Mom’s standing at the sink, hand under the running faucet, but she turns as soon as she hears his voice, “Oh! Izuku baby, it’s all right, I’m ok!”
She sounds alright, but Izuku is pretty smart for a four-year-old. His mom says he’s really per-cep-tive, which means he notices things a lot. There’s a wobble to her lips, and her brow is all scrunched up, so he’s not really sure he should believe her.
Something about that must be showing on his face, because Aunty Mitsuki lets out a big sigh, and rolls her eyes.
“Ok brat, calm down, your mom’s gonna be fine.” Aunty Mitsuki says, and her voice is loud and fiery and confident in a way that’s much more reassuring than it is scary. She’s pretty cool, he thinks, not as cool as Kacchan, but still pretty cool, “Come ‘ere Ink-“
And then Aunty Mitsuki kisses his mom. It’s a big, sloppy loud smack against her cheek that he knows meant to make him laugh—and it does—and then his mom is laughing too. She scrunches up her nose and swats his Aunty away, “Mitsuki! It was just a little burn, you didn’t have to do that!”
Izuku can’t help but be curious as he glances at them both. He’s not sure what’s happened, and Kacchan, who’s come to stand beside him now, looks just as confused.
That’s when the timer on the oven beeps, and his mom ushers them both to the table to eat. All is forgotten when Izuku sees that she’s made Katsudon, which is his favorite thing in the whole wide world. Well. It’s his favorite food anyway. He’s got favorite people that are way better than the food—his mom and Kacchan and All Might and his Aunty-
But still. Katsudon is pretty up there as far as his favorite things go.
Later that night, as his mom tucks him into bed under his favorite All Might blanket—the one with the sewn in floppy bangs that’s just perfect for playing heroes—he remembers. He’s still extremely curious, so he asks without thinking, “Mommy, is your hand really ok now? Does it still hurt? What happened? Why did Aunty kiss you-“
And before he can spout anything else, his mom smiles at him, all soft and full of warmth and love. Her eyes are sparkling as she tells him all about Soulmates—how some people have something called Pla-ton-ic Soulmates, which is what she and Aunty are, and how some people have Ro-man-tic Soulmates, like Kacchan’s parents. She explains the differences between them. She tells him about the special power Soulmates share only with one another: the ability to comfort and heal with a simple kiss, and about all the wonderful feelings that accompany such actions.
Izuku thinks it sounds a little bit like magic, and it’s really, really cool.
He wonders if he and Kacchan are like that! He can’t wait to ask him.
Kacchan think’s it’s gross sounding, and wants absolutely nothing to do with it. Apparently, he’d asked his mom too, and had declared then and there that he didn’t need any Soulmates to heal him or whatever, because he was the best, and that was that. He doesn’t ever want to talk to Izuku about it again.
Izuku might be a little sad about that, but it’s ok, Kacchan is still the coolest, soulmate or not.
A few months later comes the doctor visit.
And a few years later Izuku finds himself doubting he’ll ever have any kind of Soulmate of his own. After all, who would ever want to touch or kiss a worthless, stupid Deku like him.
Something deep inside him begins to fray apart at the seams.
Who would ever want him as a Soulmate? He hopes if he does have a Soulmate out there, somewhere, they never meet, because he feels so very sorry for them.
It’s not until his second year of high school that Izuku finds out that yes, he does actually have platonic Soulmates. Two of them, in fact, and when it happens, he has one of the biggest emotional breakdowns of his life.
Because he’d given up on the whole Soulmate thing years ago.
And the only reason he ever found out, was because Eri really wanted to take pictures.
“Deku!”
Izuku can’t help but startle at the sudden shout. He’s alone in the common room, sitting cross legged on the couch, completely engrossed in his note taking—he’d come up against a small-time villain with the most interesting quirk: the ability to speak objects to life, kind of like in the old Disney cartoons where brooms and such swept up rooms on their own… except, you know, the woman was using it to rob a bank.
He’d walked away with just a bruised collar bone, and some nasty looking road rash scrapes on his cheek, and down his left forearm and palm.
At least there’s no broken bones this time! When Izuku had returned to campus and explained his injuries, Mr. Aizawa had even almost looked proud underneath his exhasted eye roll and grumbling about being lucky he didn’t shatter his shoulder, Problem Child.
Izuku might be just a little offended about that… because honestly, he’s not that bad.
It’s been months-months! since the last time he broke a bone. That’s improvement, and should be acknowledged!
Anyway… it’s Uraraka who’s shouting at him as she barrels into the common room. She’s got a nearly manic grin on her face as she vaults over the couch to practically tumble head first into his lap.
He flounders a bit to catch her and keep her from accidently braining herself on the coffee table, flinging his legs out and tossing his notebook to the side. With just a little smidge of One for All crackling across his form, he’s managed to snag her by the back of the shirt with one hand, while the other keeps her from cracking open her skull. Still, the breath is knocked out of him as he chastises, “Mfff ‘raka!”
His friend bursts into laughter, loud and boisterous and unashamed as she slumps herself across his thighs, forcing him to somehow balance her and still remained seated, her arms and legs hanging down to rest on the floor, “Nice catch!”
He can’t help but chuckle, a smile worming it’s way onto his face as a warm sort of fondness bubbles up from somewhere deep inside his chest as he looks down at her. She’s got a bit of sweat staining her shirt at the collar, as well as on her brow. Her knees and shoes are grass stained, and Izuku can only deduce that she’s come from outside.
None of that really matters though, because she’s smiling up at him and he’s caught breathless for a moment, because even now, all this time later, the sudden realization that she’s his friend hits him like a freight train, and leaves him at a loss for words.
She’s his friend.
A year ago he would have never thought he’d ever be able to even think those words. A year ago, he would have frozen up and panicked at the first shout. He would have made himself small, and would have never been comfortable enough to touch her, let alone catch her and let her hang off him like some sort of strange, giggling sloth.
He’s no social butterfly, even now—he’s still overwhelmingly anxious and awkward at the best of times—but his entire class, and especially those in his inner circle, have managed to do something to break down all those pesky barriers made of insecurity and self-loathing he’s gotten so good at constructing over the years. Brick by painful brick, he’s felt them crumble away and disappear, only to be rebuilt into something—well, not healthy, not yet anyway, but better. He’s getting better, and they’re helping, just by being them, and just by letting him be him.
He clears his throat and wills back the moisture that threatens to gather in his eyes, “Uh, so, what do I owe this, uh, pleasure?” Izuku doesn’t bother trying to push her off, he knows it’s a lost cause, and to be honest, he’s not exactly eager to move.
He might just be a tiny bit touch starved. His mom did her best, and he loves her with every fiber of his being, but she’s all he’s ever had. Now that he has more, he’ll be damned if he ever takes it for granted. He’ll let them hug, and slump, and roughhouse as much as they want. None of it hurts. None of it leaves scars. And even if it leaves him a stuttering, blushing mess, it’s worth it. Every. Single. Time.
Uraraka rolls herself off him of her own accord, and gives a small, “Ooof” as she falls to the floor, then quickly shoves herself to her feet and snatches his hand in her own. Before he can even think to question what’s happening, he’s being forcefully dragged toward the door.
“So, we were all outside-“
“Who?”
“Oh, all the girls are just kind of sitting around playing with Eri. Some of the other guys have been popping in and out too, like Kirishima and Sero, and Iida’s there too, to supervise or whatever. Hagakure was showing us all an old yearbook of hers from middle school, and Eri got really excited about it. So then Momo made her this cute little polaroid camera!”
Izuku’s heart practically melts at all of that. He’s glad Eri’s able to play and have fun, and his classmates have all pretty much taken to her like a house on fire. He thinks Mr. Aizawa is probably pretty glad about it too, since he’s been letting them watch her more and more often lately.
She’ll never again know what it’s like to be forgotten and unloved, and Izuku and his classmates and teachers will make sure of that, no matter what.
“So, we were showing her how it works, and now she wants to take pictures of everyone!”
“Oh! Alright, that-“ He stumbles a bit over the lip of the door, and then down the steps as she continues to drag him along. He goes willingly, “That sounds like fun!”
“Right!” They round the side of the building, and the aforementioned group comes into view. It’s a beautiful day outside—not too hot, with a gentle breeze drifting across the grounds. They’ve got a few big blankets spread out across the grass, and a couple of coolers and baskets are filled to the brim with what he can only assume is a standard mix of junk food, though with Yaoyorozu and Iida there, it’s extremely likely there’s a good portion of healthy options as well.
Most of the girls have their hair full of clips and flowers, and it looks like Uraraka isn’t the only one who’s rolled around in the grass. Kirishima isn’t there at the moment, but Sero and Kaminari are, and both of them are sporting the same colorful clips and flowers as the rest.
Kaminari is posing, bent at the waist so that he’s hanging half upside-down, making peace signs while Yaoyorozu and Iida kneel at Eri’s side, each pointing at what looks like to be a pink polaroid camera with cat ears of all things. It’s even got a cute little leather tail looking strap that’s wrapped around the back of Eri’s neck so that she can’t accidently drop it.
It’s so cute that Izuku can’t help but bite his bottom lip to stop himself from cooing out loud.
When Eri suddenly spots Uraraka and himself heading towards her, she all but abandons Kaminari—who lets out and exaggerated ‘aww’—in favor of running full tilt at Izuku. Within seconds, Uraraka has released his wrist, and he’s suddenly got an armful of excited, giggling little girl.
“Deku!” She squeals into the front of his shirt.
“Eri!”
“Ms. Momo made me a camera!”
He hugs her tight, then lets her back away a bit to show him as he kneels to her level. He’s careful to hide the sudden twinge of pain that flairs across his upper chest with the pull of his muscles, “I see that. Uraraka said you wanted to take pictures. Can you take a picture of me?”
Eri looks absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of taking his picture, and she gives the biggest, most determined nod before turning and sprinting back towards Hagakure. He and Uraraka follow her at a much more sedate pace, welcomed warmly by the rest of the group.
Eri has flopped herself down next to his invisible classmate, and they’re whispering conspiratorially to one another while flipping through the yearbook.
Yaoyorozu takes the opportunity to lean over and quietly explain, “She’s using us to recreate her favorite pictures. She’s quite the little director.”
Izuku feels his lips tug upward a bit, just as Eri lets out a triumphant, “Yes!” and gathers the book into her arms. She quickly raises to her feet and be-lines to Iida, shuffling her belongings a bit so she can also grab his hand, then starts pulling him towards Izuku and Uraraka.
Iida looks a little alarmed, but quickly regains his composure and lets the little girl lead him onward without complaint. Soon, she’s got them all situated, standing side by side with Iida on Izuku’s right, and Uraraka on his left.
Before any of them can ask what she wants them to do next, she flips through the pages of the book, finds what she’s looking for, and turns it around to hold it up towards them. She points, “This one.”
Uraraka laughs maniacally, Iida practically squawks, and Izuku can feel his own face flushing red as he artfully dodges a stray chop from his friend.
The picture shows a group of three girls, standing shoulder to shoulder with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. The girl in the middle is laughing, while the other two kiss each of her cheeks playfully. All three look like their having a lot of silly fun, and just goofing around. It’s admittedly adorable, but not at all what Izuku was expecting.
Eri is staring up at them with wide, bright eyes, and Izuku can’t help but think she’s found a way to weaponize her cuteness, because he finds himself agreeing on autopilot, despite his embarrassment.
Iida must feel the same way, because he coughs, fixes his glasses, then raises his hands like he’s unsure where to place them for the picture. Uraraka, on the other hand, has no such qualms, and immediately wraps her arm around Izuku’s waist.
Izuku takes a moment to squirm and position himself more comfortably with his injuries—and both of his friends seem to realize exactly what he’s doing and back away slightly to give him room—and he gingerly wraps his left arm around Uraraka’s back, then opens his other for Iida, who unfortunately has to kneel a bit awkwardly to line up with Izuku’s much shorter stature.
Once their relatively comfortable, Eri gives one last glance down to the yearbook and nods, “Ok! I’ll count to three!”
And on the count of three, Izuku gives a wide grin as two of his closest friends plant friendly, quick kisses on his heated cheeks.
Izuku can’t stop himself from jolting back in surprise at the sudden sensation that crawls its way up his arm and across his chest, barely aware of the startled shouts from his friends as he falls to his backside.
Uraraka looks panicked as she leans over him, “Deku? I’m so sorry! Did I accidently bump something… or…”
Her voice slowly drops off as Izuku brings his left hand up and stares at it. The scrapes and bruises that were there just moments ago have vanished, leaving behind a cold, tingling sensation in their wake. He feels his eyes go wide as he tugs his sleeve up, and sees that the skin beneath is just as clear.
Izuku feels something in his chest ache, and he lets out a quiet, “Oh.”
“Deku, can we come in?”
Izuku barely hears Uraraka’s voice through his dorm room door, curled as he is in the farthest corner of his bed, blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders and one hand fisting his hair. His memories of how he got here are hazy at best, but he’s pretty sure he made an idiot of himself and scared everyone when he just… ran.
“Midoriya, we would really like to make sure that you’re alright.” Iida’s voice is softer than normal, quiet and subdued in a way that isn’t very characteristic of him at all. It sounds so wrong.
He must be upset, Izuku thinks. There’s a fifty-fifty chance, that he’s Izuku’s Platonic Soulmate, and who would ever want that?
So Izuku responds with the only thing he thinks is appropriate for this situation, “I’m so sorry.” His voice sounds wrecked, croaky and congested, and Izuku distantly realizes there are hot, fat tears streaming down his cheeks, “I’m sorry!”
There’s a startled gasp from the other side of the door, and then the harsh rattle of the doorknob. Izuku feels absolute horror at that, because he realizes now that he forgot to lock his damn door, and how could he be so stupid? It swings open, and there stands both Uraraka and Iida, with mirroring expressions that Izuku can’t place at all, so he buries his own face into his knees and swallows a violent sob.
A few moments later there’s a hand carefully prying his shaking fingers from his hair, and another settling cautiously on his shoulder. They’re both different sizes, the one on his shoulder more hesitant than the other, but in his panic he can’t tell which belongs to who.
It isn’t until one of them cups his cheeks—Uraraka, he realizes, once he’s gently encouraged to look up—that he finds the strength to apologize again, because he can never apologize enough to whichever one of them is his Soulmate, “I’m sorry, we-you don’t have to, just ignore me-I’m sorry.”
Uraraka is on her knees in front of him, right in the middle of the bed, and how did he not notice her climbing up? Iida lets out a soft hum, then slowly lowers himself to sit right beside Izuku, who subconsciously leans into the warmth before he realizes what he’s doing and tries to rip himself away, but he can’t, because he’s trapped between his friends and the wall.
Iida doesn’t back fully away, but does seem to realize that Izuku is anxious, so he shifts a bit to create a small bit of space. When Izuku steals a glance his way, there’s a blank sort of look on his face, and Izuku feels his heart break into pieces at the idea that he put it there, “I’m sor-“
“Midoriya.”
Izuku flinches, startled by Iida’s sudden interruption, and he feels himself clamp down on his tongue to keep himself quiet. With the way Iida’s tilted his head backwards, the light from the balcony door reflects brightly in his friend’s glasses, and Izuku can’t make out whatever disgust or anger must be hidden beneath, so he ducks his own gaze back down in shame.
Iida clears his throat, “Midoriya, I am finding it very difficult to understand what is happening right now. I don’t know why you are apologizing… my first assumption when you ran was that you must have been upset to find out that one of us was potentially your Soulmate… but, forgive me for being so presumptuous, that seems very unlike you. I like to believe that we have grown to be quite close over the last year, and I consider you one of my dearest friends. So, I feel as though I know you a little better than that. I’m sure Uraraka feels similarly.”
“Wha-“
“Deku,” Uraraka soothingly rubs the side of Izuku’s knee, where her hand has come to rest, then almost whispers, “You aren’t upset that one of us is your Soulmate… right?”
She sounds so hurt by the thought that Izuku can’t help but snap his gaze up to meet hers. Her eyes are wet, and her shoulders are hunched, but she still looks determined. Her hands are both resting on his knees now.
“No!” Izuku almost shouts, then winces at his own volume. There’s movement at his side, and when he turns, he sees that it’s just Iida removing his glasses. Now that he can see his friend’s eyes, Izuku spots the frankly overwhelming amount of concern there.
It’s far more than Izuku deserves.
“No. Ne-never.”
“Alright…” Iida sounds utterly relieved as he slowly raises his hand to hastily rub his own eyes, then lowers it to run slow, gentle circles between Izuku’s shoulder blades, “Then why don’t you explain what you’re feeling right now, and maybe we could try to understand?”
Izuku can’t help the chest rattling sob that breaks free as he says, “I’m sorry that one-one of you is s-stuck with me.”
Both of them flinch like they’ve been burned by his words, and Izuku feels his heart fall even further, but Uraraka recovers and quickly rushes forward to envelop him in the tightest hug she’s ever given him, “Deku, why would you ever feel sorry about that?”
Izuku can’t fathom what she means. After all, he’s him, “Why would-would anyone ever want to be my Soulmate?”
Iida sounds just as baffled as he responds, “Why wouldn’t we want you as a Soulmate, Midoriya?”
It feels like hours before they’re able to console Izuku enough for him to clearly explain his reasoning, and both of them are left furious in the wake of it all. Not at Izuku, they’re quick to assure him, but at anyone who could have ever made him feel that way.
They still don’t know which of them is Izuku’s Soulmate though, so after some time Uraraka snags a small pocket knife from Izuku’s desk, and despite Iida’s initial reluctance ‘it’s not sterile, Uraraka, there must be better ways to test this!’ They make small, insignificant cuts on their palms—they don’t ever want to risk Uraraka’s fingers for something like this after all—and they shyly try it out.
Only to come to the shocking conclusion that all three of them are Platonic Soulmates to one another. It’s one of the most baffling, emotionally exhausting evenings of Izuku’s life, but something that has long since been damaged and torn to pieces deep inside his soul feels like it’s starting to mend into something greater than it once was.
So. Izuku has two Platonic Soulmates. He still doesn’t really believe they aren’t better off without him, but they seem to be quite happy too, so it must be alright then. It’s more than he could ever ask for, and more than most ever get! He’s feels unbelievably blessed.
He never expected that it would be possible for him to also have a Romantic Soulmate. Surely, he couldn’t possibly have three Soulmates. Something like that is so incredibly uncommon.
Well, the end of their third year hits him like a hurricane, and certainly proves him wrong. Fate just loves to mess with him, after all.
As unbelievable as it is, it’s not Izuku who’s hurt this time, so he’s currently walking down the hall of the hero ward at Musutafu General as a visitor, rather than a patient. Still, the nurses all recognize him as they pass and eye him warily, as if expecting him to be making some sort of dastardly escape attempt, and honestly, he feels a bit like he should be offended by that, because he’s not that bad.
He’s not.
Shouto and an intern from another school had found themselves in Hosu—and Izuku thinks he might just suggest that they all avoid Hosu like the plague from now on—trapped in a nasty scuffle against a trio of villains calling themselves the ‘Trouble Triplets.’ He’d apparently just wrapped up handling two of the three, when the other intern had screwed up somehow and let the third escape custody.
Shouto had been completely blindsided when several huge slabs of concrete had materialized out of thin air above him, and hadn’t had quite enough time to shore up an icy defense before he’d been all but burried.
Luckily he’d been just fast enough get away with a severe concussion, a series of nasty cuts down the side of his face, bruises all over his body, and a broken ankle when he’d slipped from his self-made perch. Even though Izuku hasn’t been allowed in to see him until now, he knows without a doubt that it isn’t going to be pretty. The entire list of injuries and complications are bad news, but…
But at least he isn’t dead—and honestly, that’s more important than anything else. Izuku doesn’t know what he’d do with himself if Shouto, who’d become one of the most important people in his life, had died so suddenly.
The profession they’re training to go into is dangerous. They all know the risks. But that doesn’t mean Izuku has to accept them. They aren’t even heroes yet, for heaven’s sake.
A small voice in the back of his head calls him a hypocrite. Somehow, it manages to sound like Tenya, Ochaco, Shouto, All Might, and Mr. Aizawa all at the same time. He doesn’t know how that’s possible, but he internally tells his mysterious conscious amalgamation to shove off.
He finally arrives at Shouto’s room and gives a gentle knock before slowly opening the door and peeking his head in.
It’s a small, single patient room. Like most hospital rooms, it’s all white everywhere, from the floor tiles, to the walls, to the blanket on the bed. There’s a litany of familiar beeps and buzzes and hisses from the various machines at the bedside, and everything smells strongly of antiseptic. It’s far too familiar, and Izuku hates it, even more so because he’s not the one in the bed this time.
Speaking of- his friend is struggling to push himself into more of an upright position, and Izuku rushes into the room and to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady him, “Shouto, why didn’t you just raise the bed?”
It takes several seconds of Shouto squinting at him, pupils blown wide and absolutely zero control over his expressions, before the glassiness in his eyes clears ever so slightly. Izuku has no doubt he’s still doped up on an obnoxious amount of pain medication, so he remains as patient as possible while Shouto gathers his words, “I didn’t think of it.”
Izuku chuckles, and gently coaxes Shouto back down while he uses the small remote attached to the bed to raise the back into a more comfortable position. All the while, his friend stares at him pointedly, a strange, puzzled expression painted across his features that makes Izuku feel like he’s being scrutinized for some reason, “Uh, Shouto?”
Shouto finally blinks, “Yes?”
“Are you alright?”
Izuku is graced with a nonplussed grunt in response, “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re just—I’m worried about you.”
Shouto cocks his head to the side, a little humorously, “I’m fine. You’re the one that’s spinning. How are you not sick?”
Izuku can’t help but bark out a laugh at that. He’d been warned that Shouto would probably be dizzy and completely uncoordinated for a while yet, “I promise, I’m not spinning, you just took a nasty hit to the head and I’m pretty sure they gave you the good stuff.”
Shouto squints again like he doesn’t believe a word that’s coming out of Izuku’s mouth, before he brings a hand up to pick at the bandages across his forehead.
It’s actually quite hard to see him like this, so hurt and open and vulnerable. Shouto has always seemed to Izuku like an indominable wall, steely and cold when he needs to be, but kind and gentle in his own way. He’s an unstoppable, dependable monster on the battlefield, and calmly supportive outside of it, and just as clumsy as Izuku is when it comes to all those tricky social cues that still trip them both up to this day. Plus, and Izuku will never admit this out loud, Shouto has always been incredibly attractive, even if it took Izuku until just recently to realize that those feelings have always been there, he just hadn’t had the maturity to recognize them back then.
Izuku is in love with one of his best friends, and seeing him like this hurts in a way he can’t describe.
Izuku pushes those thoughts away, and quickly moves to stop Shouto from tugging at the bandages, pulling his hands away from his head, “Hey, no. We should probably leave those alone.”
Shouto briefly looks annoyed at being reprimanded, but gives in easily enough. Izuku is just about to back away, when instead, he finds himself tugged forward. Shouto has gripped his hand tightly and Izuku has to stop himself from tumbling into the bed on top of him, “Wha- Shouto?”
“Just. Sit here.” Shouto demands shuffling awkwardly to try and give Izuku room on the bad, “I don’t want to keep looking at you.”
“What?” Izuku is very confused, but lets Shouto pull him along. It’s not the first time he and his friends have shared a hospital bed in solidarity, feelings aside. It’s also not the first time Shouto has said something blatantly rude unintentionally, so Izuku knows he probably means something else by it, “Ok, Shouto give me a second, I don’t want to mess up your IV.”
A bit of rearranging has Izuku sitting side by side with Shouto, who’s got his head on Izuku’s shoulder, and looks about twenty seconds away from dozing off. The bed sucks, and the room is stuffy and too bright. Izuku is on Shouto’s right, which, admittedly, is a little chilly, but he’ll be damned if he lets any of it bother him. Shouto’s been through the wringer, and deserves whatever comfort Izuku can bring him.
“Better?” Izuku questions quietly, giving his friend’s hand a small squeeze.
“Hm.” Shouto says, as eloquent as ever.
“Good. Do you need anything else?”
There’s no immediate reply, and Izuku thinks Shouto must have dozed off. He settles in preparation to nap himself, letting his own eyes droop tiredly.
He’s suddenly caught completely off guard when Shouto tilts his head up and kisses him, just barely catching his lips in something quick and chaste, almost so much so that Izuku swears he must have imagined it, but no, no. That had definitely happened.
The various ambient sounds of the room go silent in Izuku’s ears, and he swears his heart has stopped completely in his chest. He can feel every inch of skin on his face burn red hot, and he snaps his eyes open and down towards his friend, “Sh-Shouto?”
Shouto’s dual-colored eyes have gone wide, and he hisses with far more clarity in his voice than he’d had just minutes ago, “You’re not spinning anymore.”
Izuku watches, transfixed, as a series of bruises across the bridge of Shouto’s nose fade from angry red and purple to barely there gray and green, to nothing at all. The small split in his lip is also gone, and there’s more healthy color in his cheeks than before.
Shouto looks just as shocked, unblinking, and impossibly still. He’s holding his breath, and Izuku just wants to tell him to breathe, but damn, he’d be a hypocrite then, because he’s certainly not.
Then both of them, at the exact same moment, whisper the exact same thing.
“…Oh.”
While he doesn’t fall apart like he had with Ochaco and Tenya, it’s a near enough thing. At first it’s awkward between them. Izuku wants to give Shouto space, since he’d clearly been under the influence of his medications when it’d happened and would have probably never been so bold otherwise. There’s also all those fun little self-worth issues to consider, and Izuku once again finds himself wanting to apologize to Shouto for his very existence.
Shouto is just as off kilter. He doesn’t know how to handle the revelation, and also seems ashamed of his actions in the hospital room, which Izuku tries to assure him are absolutely fine, and as far from offensive as he could get. The feelings were mutual, after all, even if it’s hard for Izuku to talk about them.
But eventually, they find themselves drawn even closer to one another, and that broken, ripped thing in Izuku’s chest feels like it’s finally finished stitching itself together, a mix of brightly colored threads belonging to all his Soulmates pulled tight and strong. All the hurts and wrongs that tore it to shreds in the first place are covered in patches—never to be forgotten or ignored, but no longer leaving wide gaping holes in his soul.
They all feel comfortable in each other’s spaces, and are stronger for it. They’re Soulmates, after all.
***
Each doctor, paramedic, and nurse in Japan knows who the Hero Deku’s Soulmates are, the trio on speed dial in every hospital across the country.
Just in case.
Izuku wants to take offense at that. Because honestly.
He’s not that bad.