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“What if I told you none of this was real?”
The question cut through the comfortable silence like glass, though Shouto wasn’t always the best at reading the environment. Still, he could feel the shift in the air as the words rang out, the warmth of the sun dimming just a bit, grass under his body scratchier than before. Izuku stilling in his arms, as if lost in thought, before looking up at him.
“What do you mean?” Can hosts even think? Or are they just programmed to act like they could?
That was something Shouto struggled with, neverending questions on whether this was real, or if this was some programmed script to make his time in the park better. How many other people were in his shoes, had picked up the farmboy’s dropped basket, walked him home, helped him in the field? How many other people had fallen in love with him?
And yet it couldn’t be possible for one person to be so tailored to him. To ask him the right questions, to see life in the way Shouto always wanted to but was too afraid. It couldn’t be possible for one person to fit so perfectly in his arms, to smell like grass and sunshine and warmth, to have such soft skin and such sweet lips. It couldn’t be possible for all of this to be manufactured.
Shouto clung to that idea, desperately holding it close because any other answer hurt too much to even think about. A part of him, a silly, naive part he thought he’d locked away a long time ago rejoiced, freed by a warm smile and emerald eyes. A part that felt something more than hatred and resentment. A part that remembered how warm his mother’s hugs were, how tasty Fuyumi’s cooking was. A part that made him look at the world and smile at the beauty, small it may be.
How could a robot do all that?
“What if I told you you weren’t real,” Shouto continued, looking up at the falling sun as he absentmindedly circled his thumb over Izuku’s back. He could feel the warmth of his skin through the clothes, hear the thrum of a heart that wasn’t really there. “That this, your entire life is an illusion, a game. And I’m nothing more than an intruder, making a mockery of your life.”
Shouto’s gaze returned to Izuku’s face, watching the way his eyebrows scrunched together as he thought, gnawing on his lip without realizing it. He brought a hand to that freckled cheek, felt the softness of his skin as he pulled the lip from between those teeth, delighted in the sheepish look Izuku had as he turned away.
“I’d be okay with that,” Izuku finally answered, bringing his eyes back to Shouto’s. “Even if this is fake, it’s real to me. My mother and father are real, the cows I tend to are real, the dirt under my fingernails is real. You are real,” he explained, bringing a hand to cup Shouto’s cheek in return.
He could feel the callouses against his skin, thickened from a lifetime of hard work. Could feel the muscles under Izuku’s shirt, could see how the sun kissed his cheeks and blessed them with stars. Every single detail, perfectly made. Perfectly crafted. Every answer given exactly what he wanted to hear.
It hurt him so much.
“I’m not.” The words caught in Shouto’s throat, thickened by the knowledge he had, the knowledge that would break Izuku if he ever truly understood it. “I’ll be gone in a few days and you won’t remember me.”
“I’ll always remember you,” Izuku interjected, green eyes hard with determination, something that Shouto admired in the other. “And you are real. You are the realist thing in my life, Shouto. Every breath I take is sweeter because of you, the sun is warmer, music is softer. All because of you. You make me feel alive.”
Oh, if only he knew the truth. Unable to say anything more to that Shouto simply held him close, breathing him in and memorizing every detail. Even if Izuku would never remember him, Shouto was determined to keep these memories alive. Even if they hurt him, the pain would be worth it. The pain would remind him what it felt like to be happy. To be in love.
As if sensing Shouto’s inner turmoil Izuku leaned forward, pressing his lips against his in a soft, tender kiss, dripping with affection. “If I’m not real, and you’re just an intruder, I’d be okay with that,” he repeated, whispering the words in the small space between them. Shouto could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. Too real.
“If I’m not real, if I was made, I’m okay with that. Because I was made for you.” Shouto could feel the smile Izuku wore, too afraid to open his eyes and see it first hand. “Someone out there, someone bigger than me created me to meet you, to love you, and to be loved by you. And that? That’s a wonderful gift. Being loved by you is the best thing I can be.”
Shouto didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a calloused hand brush against his face, carrying his tears away. “Don’t cry, my love, not over this. Be happy that we’re here, together, even if it’s only for a short while. Sunsets may end, but that doesn’t make them any less beautiful. You still remember the wash of color in the sky, a painting just for us to enjoy.”
Don’t cry. It should have been easy to follow, Shouto was good at holding back tears, holding back emotions. But not with Izuku, never with Izuku. Not when he seemed to strip Shouto down to his base layers with a few kind words, exposing every raw and ugly detail and putting him back together.
How ironic, the first person that truly saw him wasn’t a person at all.
So Shouto didn’t stop crying, silent tears wetting his face, catching the sun as it turned to liquid gold in the sky. Why did this sunset have to end? Why couldn’t he stay here forever? Why was Izuku the host and he the human? Izuku would love it in the real world, would love to see what the world had to offer, all the new things to explore, to discover. Shouto never had that curiosity, that hunger for knowledge. He wanted a simple life, away from everything else. This was far too cruel.
Perhaps in another life things were different. Perhaps in another life they could be together.
This life was fleeting and Shouto didn’t want to waste a single second of it. He pulled Izuku into another kiss, desperate, aching for something that he couldn’t truly have but wanted so desperately. And Izuku, he seemed to understand, returning every kiss, every touch with one of his own. Softer, kinder, smoothing the edges of Shouto until he couldn’t hurt anyone else. Until he couldn’t hurt himself.
In a few days Shouto’s trip would be over and he would head back to reality. Would head back to his father’s company, would head back to a life he simply existed in. But he wouldn’t live there, no. How could he when his heart would remain here, held safely in Izuku’s hands.
Being loved by Shouto may be the best thing Izuku had, but meeting Izuku is what gave Shouto life.