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“It would be a hundred times easier
If we were young again
But as it is
And it is
We're just two slow dancers, last ones out
We're two slow dancers, last ones out”
— Mitski, Two Slow Dancers
It’s a small price to pay for the position of number one hero but, everyday, Izuku wakes up before the sun has a chance to rise, with his arms still wrapped around the stupid caterpillar pillow he had bought to fill the space on his bed. Its colors are too bright and the texture isn’t quite what he needs. But it is, at the very least, better than spending his first thoughts of the day on how waking up with another body snuggling to his own would feel.
Shouto, however, doesn’t have that luxury. Don’t get him wrong, he could definitely buy some colorful animal plushie to cuddle now that his friend isn’t an option—hasn’t been since they left the dorms. Everyday, he starts his morning routine just as the first rays of sunlight start to come out, he wakes up to a bed that, despite his quirk, is still too cold.
Izuku patrols as soon as he’s at the agency. The early hero catches the villain, or something along those lines. He goes through the daily motions of heroism, fight after fight after piles of paperwork. But, in the back of his mind, he hopes, he always hopes that ‘today will be the day he’s partnered again with the number two hero!’
Shouto’s patrols happen after lunch. Special missions change his schedule so easily he wonders what the point of having a routine is in the first place. Still, it’s those disruptive days that he wishes for the most because, then, there’s the smallest chance he will team up with the number one hero.
On the days his prayers are answered, Izuku gets to stand tall. He’s victorious once again, this time not as alone as the loneliest number. He gets the chance to look to his side and see the only person he wants there, and those mismatched eyes that always smile back at him.
All Shouto wants is to witness the scene the cameras never pick up on; all he wants to see is Izuku glowing after a one-sided fight; all he needs is that small moment when those green eyes turn to him, so bright with joy, so alive he almost needs sunglasses.
When they get to fight together, they don’t need to coordinate their moves. From smashes to heaven piercing walls, the two heroes fall into tandem. It’s weird, how reassuring the heat of those moments feel. It’s weird how those—not the late night conversation they sometimes have—are the only things that say that they aren’t slipping apart.
Every other moment feels like an awful reminder that they aren’t what they used to be. How many new 1-A students have slept on the beds that used to be theirs? How many naive children saw the small marks left on the furniture and decided to leave their own? How many years have they spent too trapped in their own lives to realize there’s something missing? That the life they have spent their entire existence building up is fundamentally incomplete?
There isn’t a single word that can define the tangled mess Izuku and Shouto keep dancing around. Perhaps, it’s just the feeling of missed opportunities that comes with growing up and realizing things change.
“It smells like memories here.” Izuku’s soft voice echoes in the silence of the empty halls. “Doesn’t it?”
Izuku takes a deep breath as if to prove his previous point, but the air is inexplicably heavy. Here, where there will always be marks of their past together, breathing doesn’t come as easily as it should. Funny how those things work.
If Izuku wasn’t so trapped in the nostalgia of UA’s gymnasium, he would have called himself pathetic. He isn’t looking at the only other person there. He doesn’t even want to see the emotion of those mismatched eyes—always the eyes, they always told him all he needed and more. He couldn’t look, because, you see, the small amused huff he got in reaction to those senseless words already had his heart racing.
Pray tell, if Izuku looked a little to the side, if he wasn’t so focused on the path leading ahead, what would he do? What would he do when he saw Shouto looking at him as if he held the moon and the stars? As if his freckles weren’t just dirt on his face, but the constellations a lost man needed if he wanted to survive at the sea?
“I don’t know,” Shouto admits, after letting the silence drag on like the pang on Izuku’s chest. Like always, his deep voice didn’t shift with emotions. It didn't waver for a single moment, even as his next words couldn’t possibly be serious. “I’m still coming back from my last cold, my sense of smell hasn’t quite recovered yet.”
Izuku can’t hold back his laugh. He just can't. The ugly, bittersweet sound echoes in their enclosed space as if Izuku had been told the greatest joke in the universe. The only thing is, he is the punchline.
This, Izuku thinks. This is the man that has my heart racing. He almost can’t believe it.
It takes more than he’s proud to admit but eventually, Izuku reigns in his laugh. Somewhat back to normal—as normal as he can be, at least.
“It is a metaphor, Todoroki.” Not Shouto, not Shoucchan, Todoroki.
Izuku hopes the hand he puts on his chest to alleviate some of that weird pressure isn’t noticeable. The thundering storm his heart had chosen to replicate is unexplainable.
He wonders if what he’s feeling isn’t just typical grief. Grief for something that never came to be, is that a thing? Perhaps it’s only nostalgia and it had nothing to do with Shouto, nostalgia at seeing UA’s halls mostly unchanged after almost a decade.
Shouto, Izuku thinks, throwing away his previous excuse and setting it on fire. I want to say it, please let me say it. I’ll whisper, I’ll shout, I’ll repeat it so many times it won’t even sound like a word anymore. I’ll repeat it until we can make up for… whatever we have to make up for.
At this moment, he isn’t the number one hero. He’s just Izuku Midoriya, a random guy with green hair that is too afraid to ask the question plaguing his daydreams. All because he knows Shouto would say yes. They have seen the worst and the best their society has to offer, of course his friend would say yes.
That isn’t how he wants it to go.. This isn’t when they should do it either, even if it still isn't too late. At least, there won’t ever be a ‘too late’ for them, because that would entail consequences they aren’t quite ready to think about.
Still, Izuku can’t entirely break himself free from the familiar way his heart aches for Shouto. It’s almost comforting, in its own twisted way. The number one hero is quite satisfied with the life he chose to build and he won’t, ever in a million years, want things to change.
Things were good, they have been for a while. But he just catches himself sometimes, with the keys for a too large apartment with an empty king sized bed. On those days, Izuku can barely stop himself from falling apart at the seams.
“I see.” Shouto’s voice is a firm anchor to the present, temporarily whisking away the green haired idiot from his mind’s turmoil.
It feels like so long since Izuku has last spoken… said anything really. But then again, keeping track of time was something he always gave up on easily. He still doesn’t say anything, letting the conversation die.
Izuku takes a deep breath—it’s easier now—not wanting his thoughts to spiral too far down for the umpteenth time in the night. His slow exhales coincide with the dull thud of Shouto’s footsteps and, idly, Izuku notices they’re slow.
The end of the gymnasium’s corridor still comes into sight, eventually. The small enclosed space is about to give into something much larger, much greater than they could have ever predicted when they first set foot in that arena all those years before.
He doesn’t know what the trigger is, but Izuku realizes he hasn’t felt quite like himself, as much he does in that moment. He still doesn’t know what possessed him to accept that odd, out of the blue invitation to visit their high school, but it isn’t something he regrets now.
Perhaps, it’s this odd sense of self that gives him the courage to turn his head around. It’s just a possibility, and the reasons for his actions aren’t quite as important as the fact that he did look at Shouto.
That small smile suits his friend’s face in a way that a large grin never would.
Izuku’s mind can’t spew the low-quality poetry he’s coming up with, not when those intense eyes are staring right back at him. It’s too dark to see the difference between grey and blue, but he knows, without denial: they’re beautiful.
The two of them get lost in their own little world, in a way they haven’t since… Izuku doesn’t remember. He doesn't remember when the last time they stopped and just looked at the other this way was. No words being said, but still talking about everything and nothing at all at once.
It feels like it’s their third year of high school all over again.
The stillness of the night is reminiscent of their time at the dorms, when they were still trying to figure out the limits of what was platonic, if anything, just so they didn’t cross that line. In hindsight, Izuku realizes it amounted to nothing.
How many silent conversations only understood by them had there been? How many nights had they spent soaking in mutual physical affection? How many sweet reassurances had they whispered when calming the other from a nightmare? And yet, it all amounted to nothing.
The realization comes with the overly sweet taste of the strawberry shortcake they used to share every Sunday in the dorms. Izuku smacks his lips silently, hoping it would go away quickly. He should be focusing on the present. They’re finally out of the corridor, after all.
The big floodlights of the field are turned off, but that had been their choice. Only the moon hangs over them, casting a gentle blue hue. The faint stars demand your attention compared to the sky’s darkness.
Izuku has always known they were both stupid, he just never thought it was this much. Still, he’s the one wearing the dumb sickeningly-in-love smile as they step onto the same arena they destroyed way back when. They are testing the waters again, if anything, just to torture their hearts a little more.
They haven’t stopped walking. In front of them isn’t a sight that takes your breath away. In fact, , it’s so ordinary that it isn’t even worth taking a step back to see it all. At this point, the bluish gray concrete of the stairs they approach is as plain as Izuku’s green curls.
“Do you think they would have made us a special uniform if we had asked?” Izuku asks and, almost immediately, wants to facepalm. He could have chosen any words reigniting the conversation and he chose those? Might as well go with it now. “I mean, I still have my old one, but we’ve grown quite a bit, haven’t we?”
“Midoriya…” Over the years, Shouto started saying his name like everyone else, without the flare of dragging that final ‘uh’ sound. Izuku doesn’t know why that happened, if he was the reason for the change, and, most importantly, why the memory comes back now, of all times. “They would do anything for you.”
Six words, thrown in the air like they didn’t mean anything. They feel like payback, but for what? Izuku isn’t quite sure but he’d rather have pivotal moments of their relationship consist of more than a few punctual words. In the end, they fuel the ugly feeling that claws its way out of Izuku’s chest but will never be voiced out loud.
Say it the right way, he can’t stop himself from thinking. Say it the right way! His lips open but there are no words. . Say you would do anything for me! Even if he wanted to, his heart lodged in his throat makes it impossible.
Izuku takes a deep breath. Shouto is still looking at him, eyes telling Izuku that Shouto still doesn’t know how he has the number one hero wrapped around his finger. It makes calming down almost as hard as trying to paint a fresco mural with his crooked hands.
A rubber band snaps; Izuku is the first one to break eye contact. Shouto doesn't seem to understand that whatever game they were playing isn’t something normal, almost like his heterochromia somehow meant he couldn’t see they were hurting each other day in and day out.
Instead of screaming his frustrations out loud, the number one hero takes a closed fist and brings it to his mouth. Discreetly, Izuku bites. Hard.
It should have taken more to make him spiral. Then again, this is Shouto he’s thinking about. That’s the thing, isn’t it? He’s thinking about Shouto. Again. He really should get a better handle on his feelings.
The hand comes down, still throbbing with the phantom feeling of teeth almost breaking the skin.
“Why—” Izuku chokes on his own words, on his own spit, on something that clearly wasn’t the agonizing feelings he keeps locked in his chest. “Why are we here, Todoroki?” Saying the last name still stings, but at least he finally gets the question out of his chest.
“I don’t know what you want to hear from me.” Shouto shrugs. If he didn’t have such a pretty face, Izuku is sure he would have strangled his friend.
“The truth might be a good starting point.”
“I missed you,” Shouto says, as if it were that simple, as if anything between them could be that simple.
“That doesn’t really answer my question, does it?” Izuku is too focused on making sure his voice doesn’t waver to worry over how rude he sounds.
“I guess it doesn’t.” Shouto shrugs. “If it’s any consolation, at the very least, we both know what we’re here for.”
“It’s not.” Izuku laughs; it’s clearly forced. Why do they keep playing with their hearts like this? “But I wouldn’t expect anything different from us.”
Shouto’s hum fills the air as they finally stop walking. They’re at the top of the small staircase leading up to the arena, standing side by side. An odd homage to how they had come from different ends of the same world, the boy born with everything and the boy born with nothing.
“Todoroki,” Izuku calls out, unsure of where the confidence in his voice was coming from. “Aren’t you tired?”
“From what?”
“This.” He gestures vaguely to the air because if he tried to find the words to describe the mess they’re tangled in, Izuku would fall short.
“I’m not sure that I follow.” That’s what Shouto says but they both know, even if his voice doesn’t give any signs, the number two hero is just playing dumb.
“Nevermind.” Izuku sighs. “I think this will be the last time I come here in a while.”
Shouto’s head turns so fast a small current of wind follows his movement.
“Don’t get me wrong.” Izuku raises his hands defensively. “We’re the only ones that keep coming here after all this time. Even with all the ex-alumni parties, most of our friends have moved on from this place. Shouldn’t we do the same?”
Izuku finally says what they both need to hear. It hurts, but at the same time it feels like a weight has been lifted off the number one’s hero shoulders. Unfortunately, it seems that weight went right to Shouto.
“I never pegged you for someone to follow the latest trend.” There’s a sharp edge to Shouto’s voice, but Izuku can’t blame him for it. The implied meaning of the number one’s words were obvious.
“I think it’s time.” Izuku exhales slowly. “We can talk about it later.” Like the reasonable adults we’re supposed to be goes unsaid. “For now, though, let’s make this one memorable, okay?”
Shouto doesn’t answer. He just huffs and moves to the other side of the arena. There isn't even a mumbled out ‘whatever’ or anything.
Izuku really tries to pretend getting ignored like that didn’t hurt. He understands his friend, after all, he really does. However, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own feelings. He’s afraid of changing, too.
“How are we going to do this?” Izuku says. He’s trying to act like nothing happened but, even if it had only been a few words, something had happened. “I don’t think you ever tried to introduce us, why don’t you do it now?”
If things were normal, Izuku would’ve been screaming at the top of his lungs by now, doing his best Present Mic impression. He’d be shouting, “Both of these competitors have won top marks in this festival so far!” or whatever it was that his teacher had shouted back then.
Right now, though, Izuku can’t play along with that small antic of theirs; apparently, Shouto can’t either. The response to the last question comes in the form of a glacier aimed straight at where the current number one hero stood.
“A little warning would have been nice.” Izuku is only able to dodge because of reflexes honed by many years of experience. His skin glows with his quirk, and a single punch is more than enough to reduce the ice to only dust. “Whatever, bring it on!”
He doesn’t have to say it twice for another heaven piercing wall to leave Shouto’s right foot. It’s gone with a single smash and, best of all, Izuku’s arms are still whole. If this had actually been their first year sports festival, this meant he’d have way more than just 6 chances.
As he annihilates yet another glacier, Izuku realizes the quietness of their matches. At first, he can pass it off as Shouto’s aversion to talking. Then it morphs, and they are just too focused on trying to recreate their memories perfectly. Now, though, it feels like Izuku screwed up.
Once the next wave of ice is destroyed, Izuku wouldn’t say he’s bored, per se. After all, it must be only a couple of minutes into their ‘fake’ match and, besides, he’s pretty sure something else is supposed to happen now.
“It’s obvious neither of us are very good at sticking to script.” The funny thing is, for someone calling their poor acting skills out, Shouto’s voice is cold and uncaring, almost exactly how it used to be before that fateful sports festival. “This isn’t a battle of stamina, so let’s end it quickly.”
Izuku hopes that they’re just adapting the dialogue, that this isn’t their relationship plummeting because he thinks they both need change. He’s only heard that unbothered, distant tone once tonight, and he already misses the soft spoken words exchanged before.
Shouto stomps his right foot to the floor, stronger than before. The ice doesn’t stand a chance against Izuku but, this time it isn’t about restraining his red shoes, it’s a distraction to close their distance.
It’s a weird dance, a mix of their first fight and what they would normally do when sparring against each other using quirks as students. The faint orange on Shouto’s skin means that, like the number one hero with his intact hand, he isn’t limiting himself either.
The cracking sound reverberates through his bones, but Izuku doesn’t let himself be affected. He doesn’t look up to confirm Shouto is there, he knows that. The green-haired hero simply steps sideways, avoiding the right hand swing that hits the floor, and allowing more ice to come at him.
Izuku’s foot doesn’t get stuck, but stepping away isn’t enough for his blood to not pump with awe at Shouto’s impressive display of power. However, a single punch from the number one hero is still more than enough to annihilate that attack.
The glass shatters so thoroughly that for a very brief moment, diamond dust shines against the embers on Shouto’s skin. The few glittering particles that touch the hero immediately vaporize, too small to create anything visible.
Izuku keeps his eyes on his crouched friend and another ice wall that stops him from going out of bounds. This is supposed to be when he notices that Shouto is trembling, but that clearly won’t be the case now. Everything about Shouto is strong, and that has only become more true as they aged.
“Trying to keep me away?” It doesn’t feel like Shouto's talking about the previous gush of wind. “Smart.”
Izuku stays silent.
“So far you have only run away.” It isn’t a yell, because first year Shouto is above yelling. Still, it’s a terrifying thing to notice, how easily Shouto can return to his old self. “Aren’t you ashamed of this pitiful excuse of a fight?”
Izuku isn’t sure of what to say now that they have almost completely gone off script. If there was one at all. He hasn’t known how to react for a while now.
Shouto is nowhere near reaching his limits. “I’m sorry about this,”—The lump on Izuku’s throat comes back—“But thanks for drawing it out. Look at us, 30 and still playing these silly games. I can’t say it wasn’t fun while it lasted, though.”
The number one hero just closes his hands into a fist. He knows where this is going.
“Why don’t we end this?”
The cold air reaches him first but by then Izuku has already unleashed another smash. The ice shatters and despite the wind pressure, it immediately becomes diamond dust hanging over them.
“What are you talking about?” Izuku shouts the question, knowing it won’t be answered. He sounds angry but in reality, all he feels is deep frustration that has been in his chest for too long.
“I—” Shouto slams his jaw shut, and Izuku can hear the clack across the arena. The number two hero won’t say anything, even if he had let his lips run free. They have been tiptoeing around this subject for too long for it to be straightforward now.
Izuku takes a step ahead, because what else is there for them if not to continue this fight for as long? His green eyes are focused on Shouto, analyzing every small change in demeanor, but that isn’t necessary. His friend looks like a statue, one sculpted by a renascentist, but a statue that nonetheless seems to be looking past him.
There isn’t much Izuku can do but follow the burning remnants of their first sport festival’s match. So he gets into a fighting stance, one foot slightly behind the other and two arms ready to defend and leaps, right towards Shouto’s personal space.
“Keep your eyes on me!” Perhaps it’s the cold night wind rushing through his ears that gives the final push for him to scream those words.
Izuku expects the same silent treatment from before. He hasn’t done anything special to really affect Shouto, but perhaps he’ll be able to knock some sense into his friend once in close quarters.
However, all at once, Shouto’s face softens. It’s like he’s just relived the best moment in his life. The number two hero that isn’t bitter about his ranking raises his left hand, smiling at the Izuku, who is still midair.
Izuku falters, One for All flickering enough that he feels himself losing speed. He doesn’t stop though, and that seems to be exactly what Shouto wants.
That left hand ignites. A pillar of flame so bright Izuku wonders how long it will take for someone to come schoo them out of UA. A pillar of flame so loud Izuku doesn’t know how he catches his friend’s voice among all the sizzling.
“Always.”
It’s barely a whisper, but still crystal clear among the cacophony of their feelings. They have long since accepted to not question how those things work. “I won’t ever look at anyone that isn’t you.”
One for All dies on his skin and Izuku starts plummeting face-first towards the ground.
Luckily, he’s eighty percent muscle and that means he would come out relatively unscathed—just a few scrapes here and there. Or that’s what would have happened, had the number two hero’s quick reflexes not kicked in.
Shouto had been looking up, and the clear night meant he saw the exact moment Izuku’s eyes widened at the words Shouto hadn’t meant to say out loud. His flames spluttered and died as soon as he realized Izuku was about to come crashing down.
Todoroki Shouto, the number two hero, did the only logical thing he could think of: he ran, not away, but towards the green blur coming at him with alarming speed.
The two dorks, that had somehow climbed their way up the hero rankings, crash into each other. Izuku’s forehead feels harder than it should, knocking Shouto’s breath away once it hits his chest.
That isn’t enough time to stop their momentum so now, instead of only one of them, the top two heroes of the country hit the stadium with a single loud thud.
Izuku knows why he’s laying against something that isn’t as hard as concrete. His eyes are closed, but he knows it’s Shouto beneath him. He can’t bring himself to do anything about it though, still slightly disoriented from the fall.
There’s a groan, and Izuku quickly places both of his hands on the floor to support him. He doesn’t stand up yet, just takes his weight off of his friend.
“Todoroki!” Izuku’s volume borders a yell. He doesn’t notice how loud he is, too busy scanning the pretty face so close to his for injuries. “I’m so so sorry! I don’t know why that happened. I mean, I do know why but—”
“Don’t worry,” Shouto grumbles, cutting his friend off. “I’m fine.”
“That’s good,” is all Izuku says before collapsing on his friend again. Shouto lets out a dramatic ‘oof,’ making the brick wall on top of him giggle. Shouto doesn’t complain about the head resting against his shoulders though.
“Midoriya,” the number two hero whispers. Out of the two of them, it’s clear Shouto is the one with better control of his volume. “I think you were right.”
Izuku’s shoulders tense. “About what?”
“We really can’t keep going on like this.” Shouto slowly shakes his head. He looks relaxed, too relaxed for the weight of the words leaving his lips. "Right?"
It’s almost the same thing Izuku had said before, but, for some reason, he doesn’t want to agree. There isn’t anything else he can do besides humming instead of giving a verbal answer.
“Things are not the same,” Shouto says. It’s clear neither of them really want to have this conversation.
“No, they’re not.” Izuku can’t help but snort. “They haven’t been for a while.”
“So…” Shouto drags the last vowel, and somewhere along the way it stops sounding like a word and more like a way to stall.
“So?” Izuku asks back, he hopes it doesn’t come off as a way to pressure his friend into talking because he doesn’t know what to say either.
Admitting that there is a problem is the first step, right? Maybe that’s enough for a single night? Maybe they can just pretend that this small moment never happened? They can enjoy just staying together like this, without saying anything, because they don’t trust themselves enough.
It feels like it’s their third year of high school all over again.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Shouto says. “You were always the one good with words.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.” There’s a forced lightheartedness to the number one hero’s voice, as if he’s trying to reassure an injured civilian that ‘it will all be okay’ when they both know it won’t. “At least right now, I’m as lost as you.”
“I think that’s okay.” Shouto shrugs, but the movement comes off rather awkward when he’s pinned under a muscular pro hero. “You don’t need to always have the quick answers we think we need.”
“If you say so.” Izuku buries himself in his friend’s shoulder, an unconscious habit from so many moons ago resurfacing. It burns, or it feels like it does, because he’s resting on the right side.
“This still leaves us at square one, doesn’t it?” Shouto asks. His arms are tired of remaining in the same position for too long, can he hug the number one hero?
“I’m sorry.”
“You always apologize so much,” Shouto teases, because why not?
What can they even do at this point? Keep repeating over and over and over again that they are two adults in their early thirties that don’t have the smallest grasp on their emotions and can’t talk about them?
“I’m so—” Izuku cuts himself off before he can finish. Instead of laughing at his own expense like he normally would, he just sighs.
They’re tired. It feels like the night has gone on for too long and neither of them have the time to confirm if that’s the case.
“Todoroki?” Izuku asks, sitting up. It is clear that just laying on the concrete, when they are both too scared to call it cuddling, isn’t helping. “Why did you invite me here today?”
Shouto is still lying down. It looks tempting. “For this, I think.”
“Closure?”
Shouto hums in agreement. “When we first came back here after we finally reached the top of the rankings, do you remember that?”
Izuku nods. He feels like his friend has more to say though, so he stays quiet.
“I think that’s when I first noticed it.” Shouto sits up. “It’s like I got the chance to keep reliving the best moment of my entire life, and it was the most amazing thing that could happen, but at the same time I was only 15. I’m not saying that everything went downhill from there but...”
“Todoroki, I—”
“I’m not done yet,” Shouto interrupts harshly, but there’s no rudeness to his voice. A silent moment passes, as if just looking at Izuku made Shouto lose his train of thought. “I don’t know what I was trying to say anymore.”
Shouto laughs.
It’s nothing like Izuku remembers; the dreamy echoes of windchimes in his memory agree. It sounds more like wheezing, like every single breath hurts but his friend decided to strain his lungs anyway.
“God.” Izuku runs a hand through his hair, it feels like they’re both tiptoeing the line into hysteria. “Why can’t we just be straightforward about this?”
“Because it feels selfish,” Shouto says, resolution unwavering in front of the shaky nature of their talk. “And maybe it is.” A pause. “Selfish, I mean.”
“What happened to not knowing what to say?” Izuku asks, but Shouto just stares at him, blinking slowly. “Sorry. Not the time.”
He doesn’t know which of them sighs.
“I know what you mean,” Izuku starts, his voice low. It’s barely above a whisper, as if he’s scared of what he’s about to admit. “We wanted things to change. Perhaps not into the mess we are in now, but we wanted it to be different.”
Shouto nods. He speaks slowly, too. “You always gave me so much and I just took it all, all the affection, all the reassurances. It felt like I’d run you dry at any point.”
The world goes quiet for Shouto’s words. “I was too much of a coward to get what I think we both wanted.”
“I thought doing something about it would mean admitting that what we had wasn’t enough,” Izuku adds. “So I stayed quiet, too.”
“I always knew we were idiots.” Izuku chuckles. “I just never thought it was this much.”
“Maybe we were just too stubborn in our own way,” Shouto suggests. “And boy did we pay the price.”
Izuku looks at Shouto. It’s too dark, but they’re close enough he can see the difference in those mismatched eyes.
They always held so much emotion and now, when the smile on that face is just large enough to start feeling the edges of the scar tugging, it’s not any different.
“Things were different.” Izuku moves closer to Shouto, placing a hand on the concrete right beside the colder leg. “But that doesn’t mean we have to stay the same.”
Shouto just stares at Izuku.
“Todoroki, I think this was the first place we felt safe, truly safe.” Personal space is becoming a thing of the past, but it’s not like either of them are complaining. “So, maybe, we kept coming back here hoping we’d lower our barriers enough to admit the naked truth.”
“Truths don’t wear clothes,” Shouto retorts, as if he is completely unaware of how close they are to something amazing, as if he isn’t lost in the lulling trance of green eyes that shone so lovely under the moon.
Izuku can’t help but laugh, his face moving away from the other to hide his reaction behind a palm.
“Todoroki,” Izuku whispers, eyes still crinkled from smiling. “I want to call you Shouto.”
“Oh.” The number two hero gulps. “I thought it was too late for that.”
“It doesn’t have to be ‘too late’ if we don’t want it to be.”
“I think we’re both better with words than we expected,” Shouto says. “I’d love that, Izuku.”
“I didn’t expect this to actually work,” the number one hero admits. “Makes me wonder how easy it would have been to—” He catches himself before he actually finishes that train of thought. “I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.”
Shouto still has that dumb smile plastered all over his face, and it makes Izuku almost feel guilty for the small white lie he had just told.
“It’s okay. I always said I don’t mind listening to your mumbling, right?” Shouto’s question is rhetorical, or, at least, that’s what Izuku hopes it is. “This wasn’t mumbling, though, you can say what’s on your mind. I thought that’s what we were supposed to be doing.”
“You’re right.” Izuku agrees without thinking. “What’s on your mind?”
“There isn’t much to say.” Shouto shrugs. “I’m glad with whatever way we end the night. It’s been rather nice already.”
“But you still want more?” Izuku points out.
“I do.”
“Todo— Shouto.” Izuku gulps, they’re still too close but he moves closer and their faces hover mere centimeters from each other.
“I might be reading this wrong but… can I?” Izuku asks.
Shouto nods. The number two hero doesn’t ask for a clarification—there’s no need—he just nods. It’s not a grand gesture that seals their fate, it’s a nod. One, simple, freaking nod.
The hand Izuku had placed on the floor moves up, until it met his other one in an embrace on Shouto’s back.
“I’m nervous.”
“I am too.”
It feels like it’s their third year of high school all over again.
Green hair sways as Izuku leans forward. His breathing is calm, forcibly so, but calm nonetheless. His heart is beating slowly, a thump thump so weak it’s worrying. His eyes are closed. He needs a haircut.
Izuku can’t gulp, for that tightness in his chest still hasn’t left. It’s the same rose branch that has always been there, with thorns that pierced through his bleeding heart whenever he got too close to the flame, or too far from the glaciers. Izuku’s so close it almost burns.
There’s no way of knowing if Shouto got tired of waiting or if Izuku’s lips actually finished their journey. It’s that kind of mystery, the one where the answer doesn’t matter as much as what actually happened.
It’s a fleeting moment. Izuku barely has enough time to realize that Shouto’s lips are too much like the gradient of the setting sky, there isn’t a spot, a clear line dictating where the cold ends and where the hot starts.
Shouto knows this is the first of many. Izuku doesn’t. Izuku feels like it was over too short, and now he crossed a line he shouldn’t have, and he lost the chance to make the most out of this once in a lifetime opportunity.
Izuku opens his eyes, an apology ready at the tip of his tongue. It dies the moment he looks at his… friend?
He always thought that the heterochromia in those eyes was beautiful. In one of the many letters he never got the courage to deliver, he even compared them to the ‘blue of clean ocean waters, the kind you can’t know how deep it is but you still want to dive in anyways’ and ‘the comforting gray of being able to see you everyday’.
What Izuku is staring at now, is a different gem all on its own. He never really noticed just how big Shouto’s eyelashes were.
Mismatched eyes open.
Izuku knows what he meant in that letter.
“I can’t apologize for this.” The lump on Izuku’s throat, surprisingly, doesn't stop him from running his mouth to the grave. “To— Shou— You know I can’t apologize for this.”
“Why would I want you to?” Shouto’s eyebrows narrow, but he’s smiling. “Izuku, do it again!”
His insecurities melt away. Izuku leaps at the chance to do the very thing they should have done after the second time they fought together for their lives in Hosu. It is a decade later, but, at the very least, it’s not a decade too late.
They couldn’t settle down for just a quick peck, and they wouldn’t have to. Izuku presses his lips against Shouto’s and they both seem to have the same idea.
This is a first for the both of them, and it’s definitely not perfect. There is no such thing as a natural born good kisser; they were no exceptions. Izuku knows they will learn, though, they have all the time in the world (his mind ignores the undercover mission he’s leaving for tomorrow).
Izuku's senses explode with too much and too little at the same time. He can feel each of their labored breaths, each small movement of the nails on his back, each slight fluctuation in the temperature of Shouto’s skin. He still wants more and more and more and more until there’s nothing left from the fountain he’s drinking.
They part before either of them are truly satisfied, a string of saliva connecting their mouths. Labored breaths are easy to hear in the silent night. They’re out of breath, out of energy, out of words but not out of love to give.
Izuku looks at Shouto.
Shouto looks at Izuku.
After all these years, after dancing around each other for so long, after watching their beautiful waltz wither away while never actually dying, they would never be satisfied with a single kiss. It’s all they have ever wanted, they would never have enough of it.
Izuku doesn’t wait for Shouto to catch his breath before diving in those embriagating waters again. What a shame he couldn’t see the exact moment those beautiful eyes widened in surprise, the exact moment he drowned a gasp with his own mouth.
He’s entering a river without a map, to venture into a feeling they have let fester for too long to just call love. Izuku is ready for whatever comes next, even the things he can’t think of at the moment. Izuku is ready to explore every inch of Shouto, to find what makes Shouto tick, what makes Shouto fall apart just for him.
Perhaps that’s weirdly presumptuous of him, but he’s the number one hero, he gets to be a little presumptuous from time to time.
Izuku’s so lost to his senses, he doesn’t realize that his mind starts to wander. He doesn’t realize when he starts thinking that there isn’t anything special about what is happening. He doesn’t realize that this is just a kiss, that all he is tasting is someone else’s spit.
He gets more desperate. Izuku’s hands go through Shouto’s hair with a little too much force behind them, his chest moves closer and closer until there isn’t any space between them, his eyes, the only ones open, devour the sight that should be savored.
Shouto doesn’t notice it. Actually, he does. It’s impossible to not notice the hunger in Izuku’s movements, in the light sway of his hips as he almost shoves them to the ground again.
Mismatched eyes remain closed, and the only true reaction out of Shouto is the hand that starts combing through green hair slowly. Everything else speeds up, but that small comfort stays there, at the same pace, unbothered by how Izuku is falling apart at all his seams.
A tear finally slips out of Izuku’s left eye.
The kiss tastes of strawberry shortcake.
The kiss tastes of missed opportunities.
The kiss tastes of nothing at all.