Archive of Our Own

“If you love a flower, don’t pick it up. Because if you pick it up, it dies and ceases to be what you love. So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession; love is about appreciation.” - Osho

1. Denki

Denki had never thought much about flowers, if he was being honest. They were pretty to look at, and they made him smile when he smelled fresh ones in the room. But for most of his life, he hadn’t thought one way or the other about them. They were just little facets of life that existed outside of his sphere. Pretty things that bloomed and left as soon as they came. He had no idea why they were so loved.

Love was for things like family or his favorite food on a bad day. Love was in action and smiles and his mother’s hugs. Little things like flowers, so fleeting, he had no idea how people could see love in them. But he appreciated them anyways, because they were nice and he considered giving a flower to a person he thought was pretty every once in a while.

Denki was just that kind of person, always smiling and happy, always interested in some pretty, fleeting thing - kind of like a flower. But he never loved them. He thought they were fun and he enjoyed being around them, but he knew what they thought of him. Other people thought he was stupid, that he was useless in a real situation because he incapacitated himself with his quirk. That was sort of why he wanted to be a hero; to prove the pretty, fleeting things wrong, tell them he was strong.

And in middle school, when people started getting their first crushes, there was a health class dedicated to flowers. An old disease, Hanahaki, made during the first era of quirks. A romance quirk gone awry, something that made love hurt. Denki knew pretty, fleeting things could hurt sometimes, and so it made sense to him. But he never fully grasped that to those who suffered from Hanahaki, flowers weren’t just pretty, fleeting things.

The flowers represented people, and they were in love. And their love hurt, because it was so consuming - yet they were not loved back. Or, at least, they thought they weren’t. Denki had laughed when the teacher said one of the cures for Hanahaki was having your love returned, because he didn’t understand. ‘Somebody with Hanahaki should just say they love somebody and get it over with, then!’

He hadn’t paid much attention after that. It wouldn’t affect him; after all, his definition of love was never one that included pretty, fleeting things. So Denki put flowers out of his mind, and ever since that health class in middle school Hanahaki had been something he’d see on the news every once in a while. Some people shutting themselves off and dying of a disease that didn’t necessarily have to be terminal.

Denki had bigger things to worry about, anyways!

Like, for instance, getting into U.A.

And that, getting into U.A, was the first time he saw Midoriya Izuku. He didn’t know it at the time - he’d been in another arena, destroying robots as well as he could. He’d used too much electricity and shut down for a little bit, as he did. His test ended about halfway through another test, which he could still hear going on in the distance. As he was sat down by Recovery Girl to get checked up, he saw another Zero Pointer in the distance.

He hadn’t processed it at the time - he’d been too out of it - but he remembered, vividly, the lightning streaking through the sky to implode the head of the robotic beast. He remembered thinking it was one of the most beautiful things he’d seen in a long time, and perhaps that was when it started - entirely unknown to him, of course.

He hoped to see the lightning again one day. Because while it had been fleeting, it wasn’t just pretty - it had been beautiful and it lingered like a sweet taste for many weeks. He wished his electricity could be half as beautiful as that lightning. He wondered if it would be too much to ask to see it again, to hope whatever or whoever caused it got into U.A.

The first day of school had been terrifying. He’d felt his stomach roil with nerves, but he’d pushed past it and put on his million-watt smile. He’d shown up and said something sweet about getting lunch to a brown-haired girl who promptly ignored him. That was new - normally at worst he’d be politely declined or laughed at, and maybe he’d laugh it off as well - but he had never been flat-out ignored before.

He saw the person he was being ignored in favor of, and he couldn’t help but agree. The rejection was forgotten in the wake of the first time he really saw Midoriya Izuku. His hair was fluffy, green, and his eyes matched. He was covered in freckles, and he looked like a walking ball of anxiety. Still, the shy smile he gave to the brown-haired girl and the boy with engines in his legs was enough to turn Denki’s heart to jelly.

No wonder I was ignored, he thought, I’d ignore me too, if I could talk to him.

Denki had never really thought of another guy as pretty or cute before, but Midoriya was all of those and more. And god, he was smart and a little nerdy. When he recognized their underground hero teacher before anybody else, Denki knew he was a hero nerd.

But he was so far behind the others. According to the engine-legs guy, he’d done something amazing during the entrance exam, so where was all of that in this quirk assessment test? He hadn’t done a single remarkable thing so far, even though he himself wasn’t much better. He’d managed to short out the grip strength machine and he was fairly good at long-running, so he managed just fine.

But then, of all things, came the ball throw. The cute green-haired boy who looked like he’d rather keel over before he’d hurt another person hurt himself. With a small spark of that breathtaking lightning, he’d broken his own finger and acted like it didn’t hurt in the slightest. Maybe it didn’t, Denki didn’t know, but it had scared the crap out of him! He’d finally found where that lightning had come from, and it hurt him so much to use it.

It was the first beautiful, fleeting thing that hurt, and suddenly Denki was reminded of those old middle school lessons on Hanahaki. Did it hurt them, too, those pretty, fleeting flowers? But he didn’t have time to think about it, because the boy was gritting his teeth and telling their teacher he was still standing.

Denki thought the lightning was both beautiful and terrifying in equal measure, then.

Their first heroics lesson with All Might was something to behold. The man was a living legend, a symbol of peace, and everything they wanted to become as heroes in the future. He was almost too bright to look at, just like Midoriya was. But despite the man’s presence and Midoriya’s unending anxiety, Midoriya looked like he’d never been more at home than when he looked at their teacher.

Was All Might included in Midoriya’s definition of love? Some form of hero worship that went beyond just being a fan? Did Midoriya love him in his own way? Denki found himself wanting to know everything about the other boy.

But by that time, the class had already started drifting into their own groups. Denki had ended up grafted to Bakugou and the ones that orbited him. Bakugou was strong, powerful and prideful. Somebody kind of like All Might, but in a really aggressive and angry sort of way. He looked up to Bakugou as somebody who had such fine precision over his quirk, who had power in spades and the ability to use it. It came secondhand nature to somebody like Bakugou, who didn’t have such a huge drawback like his.

But even still, he found himself drawn to Midoriya. The other boy was so kind. He was such a warm presence, even when he was stuttering out an apology or cowering from Bakugou or an authority figure. Denki wondered why somebody with his strength - somebody who could be so beautiful, haloed in lightning - was so afraid.

Everybody seemed to be a little drawn to either Bakugou or Midoriya, it was second nature. They were both pillars of their class in their own ways. Except for Bakugou and Midoriya themselves - the two got along like oil and water. Or rather, oil and a matchstick. Midoriya was the matchstick in that situation, because honestly, everything he did seemed to set the explosive blond off in some way or another.

And during their fight, Denki’s heart had clenched because oh my god, Bakugou had nearly killed Midoriya, were it not for his quick thinking. It was the first time he’d coughed, just a tickle in his throat, drowned out by the gasps of worry and shock from the others. Midoriya was definitely still terrifying, facing an explosion like that head-on.

Denki wondered what it said about the other boy that he was accustomed enough to them to not even flinch as it had gone off, and the tickle in his throat returned. He just needed a cough drop when he got home, maybe.

The U.S.J had been a wholly terrifying experience. Jirou had shoved him face-first into a villain as if she had no care for his wellbeing, and the thought hurt. She was pretty and strong in her own way, but to just blatantly sacrifice him in some attempt to use him as a human taser? It made him… well, he didn’t know how to feel about it. But it definitely wasn’t pleasant, he knew that much for sure.

And then, seeing their teacher so injured after the U.S.J sent his stomach to the floor. Aizawa had almost died trying to protect them. And Midoriya, apparently, had nearly had his face decayed by that creepy hand villain.

The thought of Midoriya dying made Denki’s throat itch and burn in the most awful way, and he remembered coughing horribly as he was told the students’ account of what had happened. He didn’t know what made him cough, but he had brushed it off at the time, probably dust or dirt in his lungs from that villain who had come up from the ground, he rationalized to himself. That made sense.

He’d gone to Midoriya after, because he just couldn’t help himself. He felt like he should say something, because the boy was staunchly quiet afterwards. He also looked like he hadn’t slept in a good while. Maybe he was having nightmares too, Denki thought. He certainly had several for a while.

“You know, if you ever need to talk about something, you can talk to me.” He said, an unusually gentle smile on his face after school that day. “The U.S.J was pretty scary, huh? So it’s not, y’know, weird to have… issues or whatever. I do too, I guess. You just look really tired and all, and I was worried. Sorry if it’s weird.”

“Oh…” Midoriya’s eyes went wide, clearly not expecting that. Then his expression softened, to that smile that made Denki’s heart feel like jelly. “Thank you, Kaminari-kun. That’s… really nice of you. I didn’t know I looked so rough. I, um, just haven’t slept so great lately. That’s all. My brain just… overthinks sometimes.”

He didn’t expect the boy to actually take him up on the offer, to be fair. He figured Midoriya would go to one of his friends, people from an entirely different circle than his own. But he was actually talking to him, and Denki could listen to his voice for hours.

“I get that,” Denki said easily, “Me too. I know I’m pretty stupid sometimes, but-”

“You’re not stupid.” Midoriya frowned, his eyebrows drawn together in concern, and Denki felt the urge to cough again. That look was so… genuine that it almost hurt to look at. “You’re not. So don’t say that, Kaminari-kun. Being able to recite knowledge from a book or add numbers faster than other people doesn’t make you smart. Intelligence is just the ability to learn, you know? And you’re able to learn, so you’re not stupid.”

“... Oh,” Denki said, this time his own eyes wide. He swore he could feel his own cheeks heat up. “That’s… thanks, man.”

Midoriya eased back into that jelly-making smile and nodded. “Just so long as you don’t think less of yourself. You’re a good person, Kaminari-kun. A-And you know, you can come and talk to me too, okay? If you have problems, I mean.”

“Right!” Denki eased into his own megawatt smile, because that was the easiest way he could deal with his nerves. “I’ll take you up on that offer one day!”

The sports festival was… something else. Denki had lost spectacularly in the last round, but he’d gotten to see something beautiful and haunting. He’d seen Midoriya fight Todoroki, yelling at him about how it was his fire, and then that beautiful, fleeting lightning had danced across his skin. Denki swore it made him see stars.

Watching him break his arm and then his fingers, though, wasn’t nearly as beautiful.

Still, the lightning had burned into his eyes like a dream remembered, and he couldn’t stop staring. He wanted to see more. Midoriya was so strong, so powerful, and yet he was a walking contradiction. How? Denki wanted to know everything.

And then Midoriya had passed out, and Denki coughed. And coughed, and coughed, and coughed. He had to excuse himself to the bathroom, but he didn’t even make it that far before he was doubled over in the hallway, wheezing and hacking. The cough hadn’t gone away; not with cough drops, over-the-counter medicine, nothing.

And then with a wet, choking hack, a cluster of spit-soaked petals made their way into his palm. When he drew his hand away from his mouth to see what had happened, his eyes went wide. That was - no, no, no, it couldn’t be - could it? He stared down at the small, purple flowers and recognized them as lilacs.

Denki felt queasy. He remembered those old lessons on Hanahaki and it felt like some kind of big joke being played on him by the universe. He’d laughed at the time, so now the universe and the ghosts of people who’d died from it were going to laugh at him.

Who did he even love, anyways? Why was it unrequited? He couldn’t even think about it at the time, because he didn’t think he had feelings for anybody, not like that. Denki stared at the purple flowers, mocking him from his hand. On instinct, he shoved all thoughts of flowers to the back of his mind and stuffed the things in his pocket.

Flowers were just pretty, fleeting things, and this too would pass.

First Love.

Denki laughed bitterly after he’d looked up what purple lilacs meant later that night. His first love, and it was killing him. Whoever it was.

But he knew who it was, he did, he just couldn’t bring himself to say it. Because the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Hanahaki wasn’t discriminatory. It started early, he’d learned, after doing some research online. It started out small, with crushes that built into love, and when you loved, when you fell so wholeheartedly and knew it couldn’t be returned - that’s when Hanahaki began to kill.

Right now, it was just a nuisance. A cough he could cover up every once in a while, nothing too serious. It was still early, so if his feelings faded, so would the flowers. Pretty, fleeting things indeed. But if he was truthful with himself, Midoriya was not pretty - he was beautiful. And Midoriya was not fleeting, he was there to stay.

Midoriya was going to be a damn good hero, Denki was sure of it. And perhaps then he’d never be able to ignore his feelings or let them go, because Midoriya was going to be the best, and the best was everywhere. Ever present, like All Might was.

He’d gone to his internship and tried not to think about Midoriya at all.

But when he got a text in the class group chat with just a location, and he saw the news about what was going on in Hosu, Denki couldn’t help but be worried. Midoriya was right in the middle of that, the absolute dumpster fire that was another attack by the League of Villains. He’d covered his cough and thought himself lucky no flowers came up.

And when Midoriya had been hospitalized, he’d worried some more. The green-haired boy had looked so empty after Hosu, staring at nothing. He’d been through something horrible, but he’d been forced to cover it up. And then he’d opened his big mouth and said something about Stain and accidentally insulted one of Midoriya’s friends, and god, he thought that was just like him. His throat burned when he thought about it.

He apologized and excused himself to the bathroom to cough up marigold petals. They meant pain and grief, because how could Midoriya like somebody like him? He was stupid, like everybody said, wasn’t he? Insulting his friends and making an ass of himself. Denki’s eyes watered as another clump of petals dislodged itself and fell into the sink, and his lungs burned and he wheezed. He hated this feeling, it was starting to hurt more.

A garden was growing itself in his lungs, and soon it would spread to the rest of his body the more he liked Midoriya. He tried so hard not to think about the green-haired boy, really, he did. But Midoriya, he knew, was not a pretty, fleeting thing.

When finals approached, his Hanahaki lessened, if only a little. He was so focused on passing that he hardly had time to think about the other boy, and his lungs eased up on him while he studied and trained. He didn’t want to be a burden. But he’d failed anyways, and the sympathetic look Midoriya had given him made him wheeze and nearly double over.

The flowers had started rooting, he could feel his lungs burn with each space they carved for themselves. The more he thought about them, flowers weren’t pretty, fleeting things either, were they? When they represented love, they were an extension of yourself. It hurt so bad to think that something beautiful could be killing him slowly.

But he didn’t have time to think about his own mortality, because he had to think about everybody else’s at the training camp. They were attacked by the League of Villains for a second time, and Bakugou had been kidnapped. Midoriya looked so devastated, the scream he’d let out made Denki heave into the bushes with concern.

And when Denki saw him streak through the sky with Kirishima on the news, pulling Bakugou from the fight with that monstrous villain… The sight of him was breathtaking, somehow. The sheer, raw expression on Midoriya’s face made the roots digging into his lungs that much more apparent. He coughed and wheezed and shook, and for the first time he coughed up a petal covered in blood.

A black tulip petal that signified power and elegance, because Midoriya was such a force of nature when he fought for what he wanted. And the thought brought tears to Denki’s eyes because he knew, then, that his crush had grown into the first seeds of love. Bloody, black tulip petals spilled from his lips and he hurt.

Flowers hurt. Denki wished he’d never laughed at Hanahaki. Because he understood why people loved them, now. Even when they hurt, even when they were slowly killing him, they were proof Midoriya had grown to be included in his definition of love.

And how could Midoriya love or even like him? They were in two different spheres. He hung around the group with the person who had punched him in the face during finals. He accidentally insulted Midoriya’s friends and only existed as the comedic relief. How could somebody so strong and beautiful love somebody like him?

Flowers used to exist outside his sphere, but now they crowded in, while the one thing he wanted was painfully out of reach. It hurt so bad.

The dorms were the worst possible outcome for Denki. He couldn’t keep his Hanahaki hidden forever like this. He could smile during the day and hold in his pain until he got home, but now that they were around each other every moment of the day, it was inevitable that somebody would find out, really.

He just wished it hadn’t been Midoriya himself of all people.

Two weeks into their stay in the dorm, the day before they were due to go and get their provisional licenses, he’d had a bad coughing fit. Midoriya had shown off his new Shoot Style, proudly declaring himself as moving forward with his training, and Denki had been so smitten with the look on his face. He’d never seen Midoriya so pleased before, so proud of himself. He wanted to see him like that so many more times.

He’d barely managed to get to his dorm room before he had to stop in the hall to cough up more of those horrid black tulips. He felt the roots constricting his lungs and even the smallest amount of air began to burn. Blood and bile came up with the petals, covering his hand as he fell to his knees, coughing and heaving.

“Kaminari-kun?!” He heard a voice and he nearly threw up in panic. No, no, no! Why him?! Why not anybody else?! “Oh, Kaminari… I’m so sorry.”

He felt a strong warm hand rubbing his back, the fingers just a little crooked. But it wasn’t pity, it was warmth and understanding. Why did he sound like that? Denki’s eyes watered as he finished his coughing fit. The petals had spilled all over the floor, but Midoriya helped him pick them up carefully. His warm hand never stopped rubbing circles on Denki’s back the entire time he did.

“I won’t ask who it is, but… I can help, if you’d like,” Midoriya said softly. Denki finally turned to look at the other boy, wiping the small amount of blood from the corner of his mouth. Midoriya’s eyes were so gentle, so concerned. “I’ve seen Hanahaki before. I know how to lessen some of the symptoms, if you’d like.”

“Y-You’re not going to tell me to confess or get the surgery or something?” Denki said, his voice wrecked from coughing. Midoriya shook his head with a small, wry smile.

“No. I know it’s not that easy for everyone. Here, I’ll help you to your room.” Midoriya’s strong hands helped him up, and he was so warm. He leaned into the green-haired boy’s side, deciding to be a little selfish and take the warmth while he could. Midoriya was so gentle, even though he could probably fold half of their class without a single problem.

Once they were settled in, Midoriya gently sat him on his bed and rubbed his back some more with a smile. “Do you want some tea? I can make you some and bring it to you. And if you’re having trouble breathing, there’s some scents you can put in an oil diffuser that cause the flowers to withdraw for a little bit. It makes it easier to breathe and you’ll have less coughing fits throughout the day.”

“Tea would be great. Thanks, Midoriya,” Denki mumbled. Midoriya smiled at him then, and it was that jelly making smile, and he swore he felt his heart do a flip in his chest. He tried not to wheeze out another few petals when Midoriya smiled at him like that.

“Sure, it’s no problem. And I have a spare diffuser you can borrow. I just think it’s relaxing, but if it helps you, I don’t mind you using it for a while,” Midoriya said easily, standing from his bed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

All Denki could do was nod, watching him as he retreated back out the door. He wondered how somebody could be so kind. Mostly, though, he was grateful that Midoriya hadn’t pressured him to talk about it. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to keep his thoughts together if he was forced into talking about his feelings.

And the surgery… he hadn’t thought about it much before, but he’d said it to Midoriya. The surgery would remove the plants, but with them would go all of the feelings he had for Midoriya. It would be like meeting a stranger for the first time. And Midoriya had been such a constant presence for everyone, including him - helping the class with everything from studying to quirk suggestions, being a support, a backbone for their class.

It would be a setback in more ways than one. But the flowers were rooted now, as evidenced by the blood. The only way to get rid of them would be the surgery or returned feelings, but he knew Midoriya didn’t feel the same. How could he? They’d hardly spoken outside of that one time after the U.S.J.

And if Denki was being honest… This was the first time that his feelings for somebody had gone beyond pretty, fleeting attraction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of them. The feelings were buried in his lungs, choking him slowly, but he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of them… not yet.

It was the first time he wanted somebody to see past his megawatt smile and just hold his hand and be there for him. He wanted to keep that feeling, that desire to be closer to somebody other than his own family and interests. His first love, it was killing him.

The provisional licensing exam had been intense and a little intimidating. But Midoriya passed of course, and the brilliant smile he’d given upon finding out had made Denki’s knees weak. Holy shit, he thought, I’m really head over heels for him, aren’t I?

But he wouldn’t change it for the world. And when he had to excuse himself to take care of a coughing fit afterwards, Midoriya had followed him and gently rubbed his back through the whole thing. He would’ve laughed at the irony of it if he could; the object of his affection helping to ease the pain of his feelings. But Midoriya was so gentle, never patronizing, never pitying, so he could never bring himself to say no. It did actually help, if he was honest. It was easier knowing somebody knew, even if it was Midoriya.

It was like that for a while longer, Midoriya softly easing him through his fits and helping him hide it from the class. Denki felt so cared for, and he felt himself falling more and more for the green-haired boy. Hell, after a particularly bad fit one day, Midoriya had tucked him into bed and told him a story, letting Denki fall asleep to his voice.

Midoriya was too damn nice for his own good.

“I knew a quirkless boy, once,” Midoriya had said to start the story. It felt strangely personal and distant at the same time, like he was talking about something a long time ago and yet close to his heart. “He wanted to be a hero.”

“Oh? I’ve never met a quirkless person.” Denki had said, rolling over to look at him, eyes drooping from tiredness, “Was he strong?”

“Strong?” Midoriya asked, almost amused, “I guess so. He went through a lot and he didn’t die, so I guess he was, in his own way.”

“I hope he was able to become a hero,” Denki had murmured as he started to drift off, “Anybody that’s around you would be able to. You’re really inspiring, Midoriya.”

Midoriya had gone so quiet, then, and if Denki had been more awake he would have seen that he had started crying. “Thank you, Kaminari-kun. He… he would have been overjoyed to hear that from somebody like you, you know? He always wanted somebody to tell him he could. I was the only one that thought he could for the longest time.”

Denki fell asleep before he could hear the rest of the story, but Midoriya continued anyway, brushing blond hair from Denki’s eyes before he did. “He’d be so happy to be close to you, Kaminari-kun. You’re one of the nicest people I know. I hope whoever you love loves you back… you deserve it.”

And Midoriya stood, gave him that gentle smile, and turned out his lights as he left.

2. Izuku

The first time Izuku associated flowers with pain, he was only six years old. His mother was getting a cold, he thought, but then he caught her coughing up love-lies-bleeding flowers into her hands. He asked what was going on, and his mom sat him down and explained what Hanahaki is. She didn’t tell him who she loved - but even at six he could piece it together.

His father left them because he was quirkless. He’d gone overseas, and though he never divorced her and he sent money over, they talked less and less. His mother still loved him dearly, but he had never gotten over the fact that he had a quirkless child, and he began to love her less and less as well. His mother could hardly stand it.

She managed it well enough, since he wasn’t around for her to worry over. It was a full year before it got to the point where she’d begun to bleed, the creeping willow in her lungs coming up tinged with blood. He’d studied flowers endlessly to try and understand, help his mother, but he just couldn’t understand.

His mother said he would when he was older. But he wanted his mother better sooner, damnit, he wanted her to feel better! So he’d gone to ask his teacher, stupidly, because he should have known better than to think an adult would help some quirkless runt like him. The teacher just laughed and said she’d either die or get the surgery.

He’d been so angry. Izuku decided, then, that he hated flowers.

In the end, his mother got the surgery. She’d come home and took one look at the photo on the mantle and asked Izuku who the man was hugging him so tightly. He sat his mother down and told her what happened, the best way he could with simple words from an eight-year-old. She listened, getting more and more incensed as he spoke. She huffed and said if he couldn’t love her son, then she didn’t care in the slightest, because Izuku was her world.

Somehow, that hurt more, because he knew just how much they had loved each other before his diagnosis. He felt like his mother’s illness was his fault, and he decided he never wanted to see another flower in his entire life.

The next time he decided he hated flowers was in middle school. A classmate or two still remembered when he’d asked his teacher about Hanahaki, and when they went for their health lessons, they laughed and told the class his mom had it when he was younger. Everybody laughed and left flowers on his desk the next day. They were mostly spider lilies.

One classmate told him he’d probably cough them up when he got Hanahaki. When, not if, because nobody could love a quirkless loser like him back. He knew that already, though. What he didn’t say was that he couldn’t love anybody in the first place because the only person who he loved was his mother. Everybody else was too cruel.

He figured it would be like that for a long time, if not forever.

Izuku decided he still hated love-lies-bleeding and creeping willow the most, though, because it was all his mother had grown when she was hurting so badly.

And he decided, too, that he didn’t want to love. Because nobody could ever really be that kind, and the only kind of love he knew hurt him. Quirkless people didn’t get love, just like they didn’t get basic human respect.

That was just the way life was.

When Izuku met All Might, he felt like his whole worldview had shifted. At first, he took it to be the sign that the world wasn’t meant for him. He couldn’t love, and he couldn’t do the one thing that gave his life meaning - be a hero. But then he saved Kacchan because he just couldn’t help himself. It was pure instinct and nothing more.

And then All Might told him he inspired him. That he could be a hero.

Izuku felt like, for the first time, somebody saw him. They saw more than just ‘quirkless’ and he felt like he could finally do something, be something useful. More than just the Deku who had been beaten down by his peers.

And the day he passed the Entrance Exam felt like the first step into an entirely  different world, one he’d never had access to before. Suddenly, the world of quirks and heroics was attainable, even with the burden All Might’s succession carried with it.

Izuku wondered for the first time if love was attainable, too.

Izuku wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about friends.

He was ecstatic to talk to somebody like a peer for the first time. Ochako is so kind and happy, and her smiles are never condescending or mocking. Iida is strict but kind as well, and he always means well. He enjoys going to Iida for advice or a new perspective he might not have thought about before. Tsu is blunt and to the point, but never negative.

He appreciated them with his whole heart, but some dark part of his mind couldn’t help but whisper that if he was still quirkless, they’d never have given him that luxury. Because, as he knew with Bakugou still breathing down his neck, kindness and respect is just that: a privilege, not a right. Quirkless people don’t get that privilege.

It’s a thought that worms its way around in his head when he can’t sleep at night, bugging him and tormenting him. Izuku even wondered, briefly, if Bakugou would stoop so low as to tell his classmates he wasn’t just a late bloomer but biologically quirkless at the beginning of the year. Middle school Bakugou definitely would have.

But he didn’t and eventually that thought leaves.

But the thought that his friends would abandon him if they knew he’d been quirkless for most of their lives stayed, because somehow, he knew it might be true.

That was just the way life was.

The first time Izuku really saw Kaminari is after the U.S.J. He’d been there, he had been amazed that somebody had been willing to say something so harsh about Kacchan (“everybody knows by now his personality is like crap steeped in sewage”) on the way there. But after, after everything had been said and done and he’d been having nightmares for a week, Kaminari had been the only one to say anything.

Not his friends, not his teachers, not All Might or his mother - but Kaminari.

“You know, if you ever need to talk about something, you can talk to me. The U.S.J was pretty scary, huh? So it’s not, y’know, weird to have… issues or whatever. I do too, I guess. You just look really tired and all, and I was worried. Sorry if it’s weird.”

“Oh…” Izuku was surprised, and then he felt so warm by the thought that somebody cared enough to notice. It brought a smile to his face, though he was sure he looked haggard and exhausted. It was so kind that Kaminari had just gone out of his way for him like that. “Thank you, Kaminari-kun. That’s… really nice of you. I didn’t know I looked so rough. I, um, just haven’t slept so great lately. That’s all. My brain just… overthinks sometimes.”

He didn’t say that he had nightmares about Shigaraki’s hands and the Nomu’s teeth. Kaminari seemed to understand anyway, though, and Izuku felt comforted by his easy-going presence. Kaminari was the kind of person to be popular because he was easy to get along with, Izuku thought. He wondered what Kaminari was like in middle school.

“I get that,” Denki said easily, “Me too. I know I’m pretty stupid sometimes, but-”

“You’re not stupid.” Izuku immediately interrupted him. He couldn’t stand the thought of somebody so fantastic putting himself down. Kaminari had sought him out to be kind, so he figured reassuring him of a basic fact was the least he could do. “You’re not. So don’t say that, Kaminari-kun. Being able to recite knowledge from a book or add numbers faster than other people doesn’t make you smart. Intelligence is just the ability to learn, you know? And you’re able to learn, so you’re not stupid.”

“... Oh. That’s… thanks, man.” Kaminari’s cheeks had gone red, and Izuku couldn’t help but think he was a little cute. Then he immediately had to reboot his brain, because he’d never directly thought somebody was cute before, and he put a smile on to chase the super embarrassing thoughts away for the time being.

“Just so long as you don’t think less of yourself. You’re a good person, Kaminari-kun. A-And you know, you can come and talk to me too, okay? If you have problems, I mean.”

“Right! I’ll take you up on that offer one day!”

Izuku found himself hoping he really would.

The next time Izuku really saw Kaminari was just after the dorms had been constructed, putting them all in the same living space. It had been one thing after another, so he didn’t have time to think about much else. And his arms had been hurting so badly lately; after the summer camp when he’d destroyed them again, he’d had tingling numbness and lingering aches and pains. He didn’t dare whisper a word of it, though.

He had bigger things to worry about, he could handle a little pain. And besides, it was nothing compared to what he’d been through in middle school, when his shoulder had been in a perpetual state of burning aches because of Kacchan’s quirk.

Izuku had been on his way to Iida’s dorm to ask him about some tips for relieving arm numbness (he knew his friend had lingering issues with that after Hosu) when he saw the Kaminari doubled over in the hallway. Of course he rushed over to help; who would leave somebody in pain like that?! So he eased him through the coughing fit as best as he could.

And then, Izuku saw the flowers.

He understood what was going on the second he saw them, the petals covered in a spray of blood. Kaminari had Hanahaki. It was the second time he’d seen it in his life, and it hurt, because Kaminari was a good person. He’d gone out of his way to comfort Izuku, he’d been a constant ray of light in the class, always bringing the mood up. Why did somebody like him have to hurt that way?

“I won’t ask who it is, but… I can help, if you’d like. I’ve seen Hanahaki before,” he admitted, because he remembered how much pain his mother was in. She had been constantly agonizing to get a full breath amidst the flowers and vines in her lungs and stomach. The last thing he wanted was for Kaminari to feel that way. “I know how to lessen some of the symptoms, if you’d like.”

“Y-You’re not going to tell me to confess or get the surgery or something?” Kaminari asked. He sounded so tired and desperate. Izuku shook his head. How could he encourage something he knew would hurt? He saw how empty his mother had been after her surgery, the hollow void where his father had once been. And confess? He didn’t know Kaminari’s situation, he himself imagined he could never confess either, so he didn’t blame the blond.

Nobody would’ve wanted a confession from the quirkless kid, and Kaminari might’ve had his own reasons along that line. Of course he’d never press.

“No, I know it’s not that easy for everyone,” he said instead, “Here, I’ll help you to your room.”

Kaminari was shaky as he helped him up, and god, he had gotten lighter too. His Hanahaki must have shifted into the ‘love’ phase if it was like this. He remembered the weight his mother had lost, how much of a ghost she had looked like. He hated the thought of Kaminari looking like that.

He brought the blond to his room and eased him into bed. His room suited him, he thought. Vibrant and exciting like he was. A little eclectic, but he couldn’t say anything since his room was just an All Might shrine.

“Do you want some tea? I can make you some and bring it to you,” He offered, fingers ghosting over the other’s back. He hoped it helped, but he doubted it, with his crooked fingers. “And if you’re having trouble breathing, there’s some scents you can put in an oil diffuser that cause the flowers to withdraw for a little bit. It makes it easier to breathe and you’ll have less coughing fits throughout the day.”

“Tea would be great; thanks, Midoriya.” Kaminari still smiled at him, and Izuku smiled back. It felt good to be helpful. He liked knowing he was helping people, even in a small way. He nodded and stood then.

“Sure, it’s no problem. And I have a spare diffuser you can borrow. I just think it’s relaxing, but if it helps you, I don’t mind you using it for a while,” he offered, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

As Izuku left the room, he felt the overwhelming urge to take care of the other boy. He was in pain, and Izuku was going to be a hero, wasn’t he? Kaminari needed somebody who would understand what Hanahaki was like, anyways. He didn’t know if any of his friends did; he knew for sure Bakugou didn’t - the laughing in middle school had proved that - but Mina, Kirishima and Sero might.

But he didn’t think it would be so easy to have people you were close to see you like that. His mother had anguished over the fact that Izuku had to see her that way. Somebody not as close would be better, Izuku thought, so Kaminari wouldn’t feel pressured or judged.

Izuku decided then and there that he was going to be Kaminari’s support. Whatever the electric blond decided on, be it surgery or confession, or - god forbid - letting himself waste away, he’d ease him through it all. Because Izuku knew love couldn’t be given up on that easily.

If he’d been the one in Kaminari’s place, feeling safe enough to love, then he wouldn’t dare get rid of the flowers unless it was the last option. Because no matter how badly it hurt or how much he hated flowers, they were proof he could love.

He wondered if Kaminari felt the same about his flowers.

The provisional license exam came and went, along with their school days. He considered himself lucky to pass; he had been more concerned about Kaminari at some points than himself. The boy’s smile never dimmed, though, and he pushed through remarkably well.

Despite the stage his Hanahaki had gotten to, Kaminari still kept going. He still kept fighting and smiling and working. He was so strong, Izuku thought. He wished he could be that strong, sometimes. He felt like he was weak, most of the time, crying over the little things and always destroying his own body.

Izuku thought that maybe he had a new standard to set himself to. Even when his love was killing him, Kaminari still smiled. Maybe he’d strive to be like that, instead of the visage of Bakugou’s back he always chased as a child.

And when Kaminari had a coughing fit after the exam, he eased him through it too. No matter the flowers, blood or whatever else, Izuku was there. He hoped it helped. It was never good to be alone, he knew. He watched Kaminari cough up a cluster of sweetpea flowers, tinged red by the soaking blood, and he felt his own throat itch in sympathy.

And one night soon after that, he had an even worse coughing fit. Kaminari looked so tired these days; he’d even begun throwing up the petals and even buds. It was getting worse and worse. He wondered what Kaminari wanted to do about it. He hoped he wouldn’t choose death, in the end, because surely whoever he loved had to love him back. He was just so magnetic, how could they not?

But Kaminari didn’t need his hopes or his thoughts on what he should do. He needed a comforting presence. And he knew how hard it was for his mother to sleep after a rough night of coughing, so he decided to do what he could. He eased Kaminari into bed and covered him up, made sure he drank a glass of water, and stayed with him until he was ready to sleep.

But silence was awkward, so he talked to fill it. But when he ran out of things to talk about, he blurted the first thing that had come to his mind.

“I knew a quirkless boy, once. He wanted to be a hero.”

Izuku wanted to smack himself on the forehead. Why was that what he decided to talk about? He supposed he had been thinking about that dark part of his mind that whispered to him more often lately. The pain had been getting worse, and so had that voice in the back of his head. But he staunchly ignored them both.

“Oh? I’ve never met a quirkless person. Was he strong?” Kaminari asked. Izuku almost laughed, but he stopped himself. It would be rude to laugh at a perfectly reasonable question. He’d never met a quirkless person, after all.

“Strong? I guess so. He went through a lot and he didn’t die, so I guess he was, in his own way,” Izuku relented. He didn’t think that made him strong, but he wasn’t going to just disparage himself when Kaminari thought he was talking about somebody else. Kaminari was starting to drift off, but he mumbled anyway.

“I hope he was able to become a hero. Anybody that’s around you would be able to. You’re really inspiring, Midoriya,” he said softly. Izuku’s breath hitched in his throat and he felt his chest ache and burn. He’d never… heard somebody say they hoped a quirkless person could be a hero before.

And then Kaminari, who had smiled and stayed strong through everything, had told him he was inspirational. That anybody around him would be able to be a hero thanks to his mere presence. He struggled not to sob as he gave the blond a watery smile. He cried anyways, though, silent tears on his cheeks.

“Thank you, Kaminari-kun. He… he would have been overjoyed to hear that from somebody like you, you know? He always wanted somebody to tell him he could. I was the only one that thought he could for the longest time.” Izuku brushed hair from Kaminari’s forehead and he felt his lungs tighten. “He’d be so happy to be close to you, Kaminari-kun. You’re one of the nicest people I know. I hope whoever you love loves you back… you deserve it.”

Izuku kept helping Kaminari, even after he’d gotten that work-study with Sir Nighteye. Helping the other boy with his disease was something easy, something he knew how to do. It got his mind off of things, let him sleep easier knowing he was helpful. Izuku was happy to do whatever made him feel better.

And then Overhaul happened. His whole life got upheaved, then, and it felt like he was choking on himself when he had to say goodbye to a man he’d barely begun to know. Mirio had been absolutely beside himself with grief.

But Eri… helping her was something he could do. Just like helping Kaminari, helping others came to him as second nature. She was such a sweet girl, and he hoped beyond hope she knew a kind of love that wasn’t painful. That she got to see love in a better light than he had, growing up, despite what had happened to her.

He spent his days after Overhaul working himself to the bone, between classes and taking care of Eri and Kaminari. The pain in his arms had been getting worse these days. It was one of those days he had Kaminari call him in the middle of the night after he’d thrown up an entire flower.

It was getting so bad. God, Izuku thought, please don’t let him choose death. I don’t think I could take it. Please, please, just keep smiling.

And so despite the fact that his hands shook and they ached beyond measure, he trotted out of bed and upstairs to Kaminari’s room with a glass of water and a refill for his diffuser in hand. He knocked on the door quietly and entered to see Kaminari cleaning up a mess of bloody Queen Anne’s Lace off of the floor.

He tried to help him clean, but his hands shook too much and he could barely keep a hold on the flowers. They kept falling out of his hands, and Izuku struggled not to cry. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispered, “M-My hands, they just - they don’t - they h-hurt sometimes and I just… I can’t…”

“Midoriya,” Kaminari’s voice was hoarse and he took his hands in his own, “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. You’ve already done a lot for me, so thank you. If you need to go back to bed-”

“No!” Izuku cried before he could stop himself. He was so tired and this was one of the only things that kept him grounded when his nights got rough. “I-I dont - please - let me help. Please. I just… I want to feel useful. Please.”

“You are useful.” Kaminari rubbed circles in the muscles of his hands, small things that did so much. Izuku couldn’t help the sigh of satisfaction that left, the pain finally easing under somebody else’s touch. He could never quite get the motions right on his own, and it left his hands more sore than before. But Kaminari was gentle and slow, and methodically worked over each muscle and joint in his crooked fingers.

“You shouldn’t have to be useful, though, Midoriya,” Kaminari said softly. He seemed… sad, then, and it made Izuku’s lungs burn.  “You’re such a good person. So strong. And you just have this way… you draw people in. You do enough just being in class, doing what you do every day. You’re just fine, the way you are.”

Izuku let out a quiet sob. Nobody had told him that, either, in such a long time. “Thank you… so much…”

“It’s okay.” Kaminari moved from his hand to his arm and oh god, he had no idea his arm could feel boneless without turning his bones to dust like he had before. Kaminari had clearly done this before. “You help me, right? So I’ll help you this time. C’mere.”

He and Kaminari got up and went to sit on the bed. He kept working over each muscle, gently rubbing them until the pain left each one. Izuku tried not to cry. His arms hadn’t felt so good since before the sports festival. He felt so tired, the longer it went on. And eventually, Kaminari let him lay down and the two curled against each other.

“My mom,” Izuku said suddenly, “She, uh… she had Hanahaki, when I was really little. That’s how I… how I know how to deal with it. I know I never said anything, but in case you were wondering… yeah. My dad, um, he left, and… she got so sick because she loved him, but he didn’t love her back any more.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaminari said, but it didn’t sound pitying. It was understanding. “And you still helped me so much with mine. Thank you…”

“Of course, Kaminari-kun,” Izuku said easily. Kaminari pressed his forehead against his, and Izuku felt his heart stutter. “You’re a strong person too, you know?”

“I’m glad you think so,” Kaminari whispered, and Izuku felt so relaxed.

Izuku’s eyes slipped shut, and the last thing he remembered before falling asleep was Kaminari tracing little sparks into his fingers, and he thought that maybe this kind of attention was nice. He felt so safe around the blond. He loved Kaminari, he knew, probably since the moment he said such kind words about a quirkless person. He’d never heard them before.

But Kaminari loved somebody else, his Hanahaki was proof enough. Izuku understood why he decided back in middle school that he never wanted to love somebody else. The only love he knew always hurt him in the end.

3. Revelation

“Mr. Deku?” Eri’s inquisitive voice broke Izuku from his thoughts. He was on babysitting duty with Mirio while Aizawa was on a mission that weekend. They were in the 1-A dorms, since Eri wanted to be around more people that day. Most of the other 1-A students were also in the commons with them, all doing one thing or another. But he and Mirio were dutifully sitting with Eri, braiding her hair.

“Hm? What’s up, Eri?” He smiled at her. He could see Kaminari laughing and playing video games with Sero and Mina, yelling at each other playfully. But he looked so sick and pale these days, his Hanahaki was getting worse and worse. Izuku worried for him every day.

“Why do you look so sad?” She asked bluntly. The question startled him into a cough, and he looked at her inquisitively.

“What do you mean, Eri?”

“You just look so sad. And tired. Mr. Aizawa says it’s bad to be sad by yourself. You can tell me what you’re sad about if you want, Mr. Deku,” she said easily, in the way only kids could. He smiled wearily, and he could hear Kaminari laugh and cheer when he beat them at whatever game they were playing. He remembered what Kaminari had said to him.

So strong, he had said, you’re fine, just the way you are.

Izuku felt the same about him, and that’s why he was sad. Because Kaminari was dying for somebody who didn’t love him, all while being the best person he knew. How could somebody just… not love somebody like Kaminari?

“Deku?!” Mirio said, hushed but panicked, “Are you okay?! You’re crying!”

Izuku touched a hand to his cheeks.

“Oh,” he wheezed, “I guess I am.”

And then Kaminari laughed again and he felt choked, and he coughed, and he couldn’t help it. It burned and he couldn’t keep it quiet. He coughed and hacked and doubled over, until a bundle of love-lies-bleeding tumbled from his lips.

Hopelessness, he thought, those damn flowers.

When his cough finally died down, he realized the whole class had turned to him, and they all looked shocked and some horrified. Izuku quickly stood and wiped his face, grabbing the flowers and sprinting out of the room in a bolt of green lightning. He sobbed when he was finally behind his dorm room door.

He loved Kaminari, and now he was dying too. And he would die, because there was no way in hell he would give up those flowers he hated so much. Because he loved, and he could love because there was finally somebody kind enough to like the weak, pathetic, quirkless him that existed before U.A.

He broke down and sobbed more. Because he knew the only person he’d found that was kind enough to love that version of him might die. And his love… just like all of his middle school classmates said, was fated for Hanahaki.

Hopeless love, just like the love-lies-bleeding burying itself in his lungs.

Denki was blessed by Midoriya. Truly, there was no other way to describe it. He loved Midoriya so much. And the other boy had stayed by his side though he was sure he looked like shit, and he was blessed to have him.

Denki didn’t know how he’d been blessed to love somebody as beautiful as Midoriya. Strong, beautiful, the perfect image of a hero and somebody everybody looked up to. Even Bakugou, in a way, looked up to him, he was sure. And yet Denki, out of everybody, was the one Midoriya chose to take care of. That Midoriya confided in.

Midoriya had told him about his pain, told him about how his arms hurt nearly all the time these days because of his reckless bone breaking. So Denki made him promise to come to him when he hurt too badly to sleep, made him promise to take his pain medication and take care of himself. And on the times Midoriya showed up for himself, Denki made sure to give each muscle in his arms the love he knew they needed.

Midoriya had destroyed his body on behalf of his classmates, and then pushed himself so far in order to be useful. And Midoriya had confided in him, one day, that the ‘quirkless boy’ he’d known when he was younger was actually himself. He was a late bloomer, he said, and everybody thought he had been quirkless. Denki’s heart ached for him when Midoriya told him how people didn’t like him very much.

Because how could they not like Midoriya, even if he didn’t have a quirk? Midoriya would be a force of nature with or without superhuman strength. He told him as much, and Midoriya had broken down sobbing on his shoulder, thanking him profusely. As if he’d told him he was worth something.

Denki hugged him tight and made sure Midoriya knew he was loved. Or, at least, he hoped he knew he was loved.

And then, dear god, the worst possible thing had happened.

He’d just been having a normal day. Midoriya and Togata-senpai had been assigned to watch Eri and decided to join the class. Eri had asked him something, he wasn’t paying too much attention, and then the coughing began. Kaminari knew that coughing too well. He turned and saw Midoriya doubled over in pain, and then the flower had come from his mouth.

Midoriya had Hanahaki too.

Midoriya had scooped up the flower and bolted from the room, tears on his cheeks. Togata-senpai had been the first to stand, followed by Todoroki and Bakugou, to try and go after him. But Denki stood and blocked their path out.

“Stop it,” he said firmly, willing himself not to waver in front of the three other strongest people he knew, “I’ll go talk to him.” Whatever look they saw on his face made Todoroki and Togata-senpai back off, but Bakugou didn’t.

“Like hell, Dunce Face! Deku’s fucking sick and I’m gonna drag his ass out here and make him-”

“Make him what, Bakugou?!” Kaminari yelled, and his whole body shook. He tried his best not to have his own coughing fit. “Make him confess in front of a class full of people who just saw something he probably wanted kept secret?!”

He’d never yelled at anybody before. Not like that. But he couldn’t help it, the pang of jealousy and possessiveness that had hit him. Midoriya had been with him these past months, not Bakugou or anybody else. Midoriya had come to him for help with his pains and fears he kept hidden, because Midoriya trusted him.

None of them knew what it was like to suffer like that.

“What’s your fucking problem?!” Bakugou snarled, “You should be worried about Deku’s health, not his fucking comfort about telling some dumbshit extra he likes them!”

“Togata-senpai,” Denki ground out, clenching his fists, “I’m going to talk to Midoriya. Please keep Bakugou from following me or I’m going to punch him.”

Bakugou may be his friend, practically a brother and somebody he’d fight beside - but this was not something he was going to play around about. Togata seemed to understand that, and the blond nodded firmly.

“Go talk to him, Kaminari-kun,” he said, a tight hold on Bakugou’s shirt collar. Denki did an abrupt about-face and made his way up the stairs. He sprinted as fast as he could to get to Midoriya, and he could hear the other boy sniffling and crying. In his haste, he hadn’t even shut his door. Still, he didn’t want to invade his privacy, so he stood outside.

“Midoriya?” Denki said gently, “Can I come in?”

“Midoriya?” Kaminari’s voice startled him out of his crying and coughing fit, and he realized he’d left the door open. But the other boy stayed outside anyways. “Can I come in?” Kaminari was so nice, asking if he could even though Izuku had been dumb enough to leave it open in the first place. Izuku wiped at his face.

“I-If you want to,” he said. Even though he got Hanahaki for Kaminari, he was still the only one he felt comfortable with seeing him in this state. Kaminari understood.

“Okay. I’m coming in,” he said, and he shut the door behind him. Izuku was sitting on the edge of his bed, and Kaminari came to sit with him. Just like they always did, Kaminari took his hand and began to ease the tension out of his joints. Kaminari leaned his head on Izuku’s shoulders and didn’t say anything for a while, just sitting there and being with him.

“Your mom…” Kaminari began, softly, “What did she do when she got Hanahaki? You told me about it, that night you told me about your arms.”

“... She got the surgery,” Izuku said. He wasn’t sure why Kaminari was asking him, but he would be honest. “But it… it was like she’d lost a piece of herself. She acted like my dad had never been a part of her life before. He was a complete stranger to her. It hurt… to see her like that, you know? Because even if it hurt her, I know how much she loved him.”

“Mm. Do you think you feel the same way about your flowers?” he asked.

“... Yeah. My flowers are a part of me. They… I know it’s selfish, I just…” Izuku sniffled and leaned his head back on Kaminari’s, “I just never thought I’d be able to love somebody like this. Did I tell you… when people, um, thought I was quirkless… they would tell me any love I had would end up in Hanahaki. Because nobody could love a quirkless person… so I decided I never wanted to love anybody because people were too cruel.”

“So you… want to keep the flowers because you never thought you’d love like that, huh?” Kaminari asked, a wistful smile on his face. Izuku nodded.

“Yeah. What about you?” he found himself asking.

“Hmm… I’m sort of the same,” Kaminari admitted, “I’ve always found things pretty and fun, but I’ve never really loved anything besides my family. Everything was gone too fast, or it was shallow. People thought I was stupid or not suited to being a hero because of my quirk drawback. So my flowers mean I love somebody who was more than just a pretty, shallow person. They’re somebody I care about so much.”

“Me, too. The person I love…” Izuku bit the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something, anything. Kaminari wanted to keep his flowers as well. If that was the case, then… he didn’t have much longer. He’d get really, really sick soon. “Well, the person I love was the first person who ever liked that quirkless me. Nobody had ever… said such nice things about a quirkless person before, and they took my heart, I think.”

“Well, the person I love was the first person who ever liked that quirkless me. Nobody had ever… said such nice things about a quirkless person before, and they took my heart, I think.” Midoriya said, and Denki took a second to think about what he’d said.

The first person who ever liked his quirkless self…?

Wait.

Denki blinked, and then began to cough violently. “I - But you - You said I was the first person who-” Queen Anne’s Lace spilled from his mouth, covered in blood. His lungs burned, he couldn’t - he couldn’t possibly mean… “You said that I was the first person… Who… said something nice about…”

Midoriya looked almost ashamed and tears spilled over his eyes again as he nodded. He turned his head away, and Denki couldn’t breathe. “I know… I’m sorry… I just… wanted to say something… I know you love somebody else, but you were just… the first person who had ever been so nice…! Nobody had ever believed in me like you before…!”

Denki took both of Midoriya’s hands in his own and he couldn’t help but let out his own laughing sob. “Midoriya,” he choked out, “I love you.”

“Don’t - Don’t say that,” Midoriya said, his hands shaking, “Don’t - I can’t, Kaminari-kun, I can’t take it if you’re just s-saying that - because love hurts, Kaminari-kun, and you know it hurts so please-”

Denki took Midoriya’s hands and brought them to his face and gently kissed the scarred knuckles he found there. “Midoriya, you’re so beautiful. You - I saw you at the entrance exam, you know? And I just - I remember thinking that your lightning was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and then you were so strong and so kind and I could never ‘just say that,’ Midoriya. You make me feel cared for, you know? You don’t - you were the first person to tell me I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t a joke to you.”

“K-Kaminari-kun-” Midoriya let out the most broken sob he’d ever heard from him. It felt like it was tearing his heart in two, hearing Midoriya cry like that. The green-haired boy trembled and seemed to curl in on himself. Who had made him feel so worthless? “Please, please, please, you’re not - you promise you mean it?”

“I promise, Midoriya, I promise,” Denki murmured against Midoriya’s hands, “I promise you. I would never lie to you. I love you, Midoriya.”

“I-Izuku,” Midoriya rasped, turning back to Denki to lean his forehead against the blond, “Y-You can call me Izuku.”

“And you can call me Denki.” Denki smiled, wobbly as Midoriya - Izuku took his hands and gently cupped his cheeks. The crooked fingers were as warm as they always were, and Denki leaned into them easily.

“I-I love you too,” Izuku whispered, the same wobbly, watery smile appearing on his face despite his tears, “I - I’m so happy, I never - I never thought anybody could…”

“I can,” Denki said easily, “And I will. We’ll get better together.”

“Mm,” Izuku agreed, “Together.”

04. Epilogue

“Mr. Deku?” Eri asked, her head tilted cutely. She was sitting in his lap, coloring in a book at their tea party. Izuku smiled at her and nodded. It had been nearly a month since the incident in the commons, but things had been looking up.

“Hm? What’s up, Eri?” he asked, gently pulling her hair back to thread a ribbon through her ponytail. She looked at her book for a few moments before seemingly deciding on something. She tore out a picture from it and handed it to Izuku. When he took it, he saw a stick figure family of Aizawa-sensei, Mirio, himself, and Denki.

“I’m glad you’re not sad any more,” she said easily, “I was worried.”

“I’m glad too, Eri. Although I could’ve done without Kacchan yelling at me for an hour after everything got resolved…” he muttered, remembering some of the… rather colorful insults and curse words Bakugou had chosen after he found out both of them had Hanahaki. He’d spent an entire hour just yelling at the both of them, and at the end he’d just said ‘don’t you dare do that shit again, you assholes!’ which was Kacchan-speak for ‘you had me worried so I’m going to yell my concern for you.’

“Or Mr. Aizawa’s yelling.” Eri nodded solemnly.

Izuku shuddered. He and Denki had gotten detention for two weeks for hiding such serious health conditions, though to be fair the first time in the common room with everybody was the first flower Izuku had coughed up. Still, Izuku wasn’t going to argue semantics with a pissed-off Eraserhead, no thank you.

“Yeah, or Aizawa-sensei’s,” he agreed. Eri was quiet for a moment or two more.

“Mr. Deku? I have another question,” she said. Izuku nodded for her to go ahead. “Can, um, your happy friend come too? The one that makes you smile a lot and act silly.”

“My happy friend? Which one?” Izuku asked with a smile and a laugh, “I have a lot of happy friends that make me smile.”

“Nuh-uh!” Eri shook her head and pointed to the stick figure of Denki in the picture she had handed him. “Not the silly smile! It’s like how Mr. Aizawa smiles at Mr. Yamada! You make a silly smile at your happy friend!”

“Oh!” Izuku turned red. He’d certainly heard from Ochako that since they had confessed to each other, it was a little sickly sweet to see the two interact. Perhaps Eri had picked up on that… “Um, sure, he can come visit next time. What do you want to do?”

“I wanna go look at the flowers by the dorms!” Eri smiled brightly. Izuku nodded and finished weaving the ribbon into her hair. Flowers weren’t so bad to look at these days, knowing they’d brought him and Denki together.

“Okay, we’ll go look at the flowers together next time.” He agreed easily.

“Yo, Deku!” Mirio’s face popped through the wall with a grin. “Hey! Recovery Girl wants to see you and your boyfriend for a lung checkup, so I’m here to take over! Have you two been doing better lately?”

“Up we go, Eri!” Izuku hoisted her up and off of his lap as he stood. “Yeah. We’re doing a lot better, thank you, Mirio-senpai. And thank you for stopping Bakugou that day, by the way. Denki told me what you did.”

“It was no problem! I knew the look he gave me, so it was an easy choice to make. Now you’d better get going before Recovery Girl hits you with her cane!” Mirio laughed, backing out of the wall and coming in through the doorway. Izuku nodded and waved bye to Eri, switching spots with Mirio easily.

When he went out into the hallway, he saw Denki waiting for him. The blond instantly grabbed him in a hug, and Izuku laughed and hugged him back. They pressed their foreheads together, and Denki grabbed his hand to rub those small, relaxing circles on it.

“Hey, Izuku!” Denki beamed and kissed his nose. Izuku turned bright red and stuttered something unintelligible, taken entirely by surprise. Denki was one for very public affection, and he was still getting used to it. He didn’t mind it, it was just something entirely unexpected since he wasn’t used to the thought of somebody wanting to do those kinds of things with him - let alone publicly.

“H-H-Hey, Denki!” He finally stuttered out. “Gotta go see Recovery Girl, huh? Mine are pretty much gone since I wasn’t that far in, but… how have yours been? I know you were a lot further along than I was…”

“I’m doing just fine, thanks to you,” Denki said cheekily, “Recovery Girl said my lungs won’t have permanent issues though, thank goodness.”

“That’s so good!” Izuku smiled. Before he could say anything else, though, they heard a loud sigh from behind them and turned to see their homeroom teacher, standing there looking exasperated.

“Get to your appointment with Recovery Girl, problem children, and don’t do all the mushy PDA nonsense in front of my apartment, please. You’re still in the teacher housing, after all. You’re going to get more detention standing around like that.” He grumbled, and both of them scrambled to get downstairs with a ‘yes, sensei!’

But they still held hands the entire way to Recovery Girl’s office and Izuku thought to himself that he was happy beyond anything in his wildest dreams, knowing he loved and was loved in return. And Denki, feeling Izuku’s crooked fingers thread with his own, was happy that Izuku hadn’t been some pretty, fleeting thing.

They loved their flowers and let them be, and they’d come together like it had been meant to be all along.