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Izuku Midoriya was regretting his decision to get out of bed.
He was regretting a lot of decisions he had made recently but leaving his bed at all was a top contender.
He had been excused from his classes the day before because he’d had a severe panic attack and his mother had tried to do everything in her power to keep him another day but Izuku hadn’t been able to do it. It would be so much worse, he had thought, if he waited to deal with it.
It.
The massive elephant in the room that Mineta had released.
He was gone, Mr. Aizawa had told him in a cold whisper when Izuku had finally awoken. Gone, never to be welcomed back.
Izuku had felt guilty. And then relieved. And then guilty that he had been relieved.
Mineta had the potential to be a hero, he must have, or Mr. Aizawa wouldn’t have kept him for so long; he had some undesirable personality traits but nothing that couldn’t have been rectified had the boy been given a chance.
Izuku had taken that from him. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but he had done it all the same. He hadn’t been able to control himself, to keep his irrational panic at bay, and now he had destroyed someone’s dreams.
He would always feel guilty about that, no matter how relieved he was that the small boy was gone from his life. But more than guilt, Izuku felt dread. What Mineta had unleashed couldn’t be put back away, no matter how much Izuku wished it could.
He should have been the one to tell his classmates; he should have never hidden it in the first place, never lied to them – he hadn’t really lied, so much as just kept quiet and let them make their own assumptions, but that was dishonest enough. They wouldn’t trust him anymore, Izuku knew it.
He had tried to convince himself, when he had put on a half-convincing smile for his mother and left their apartment, that it would be okay. Even if some of his classmates hated him now, he would still have his friends. Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki, and Tsu all knew and they would stay beside him. Kacchan, too, was guaranteed to treat him the same. He would still treat him poorly, Izuku knew, but he could be comforted in the knowledge that the problem Kacchan had was with him as a person, not for anything else.
He had hoped, even deluded himself, into thinking that would be enough. His friends’ support and Kacchan’s distaste would be enough, it would have to be.
But, as Izuku made his way through UA’s oversized halls, his steps echoing in the silence that seemed to follow him as everyone turned to gawk, he had to admit that it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
Mr. Aizawa had warned him that Mineta had not gone quietly, had even sided with Izuku’s mother with the idea of waiting a day for the school to settle down with the news, but Izuku hadn’t listened. It would be worse, not better, if he hid. He knew this, knew he was right, but that didn’t make the desire to run sprinting back home to dive onto his bed and never reemerge any less strong. But he couldn’t, it would just be cowardice, so Izuku kept his head as low as he could and endured the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him, itchy and invasive like dozens of beetles crawling across his exposed skin, as he walked to his classroom.
He had left later than usual, brought to school by a sympathetic coworker of his mother rather than his usual early train – Nezu had always been strict that information given out in UA was meant to stay in UA, but students would surely talk to their families and even if Nezu had pulled a second magic trick to keep Izuku’s name out of the fresh newspapers, people were bound to know and his mother had put her foot down about him using the train until they knew for sure he would be safe.
Izuku had been using the train by himself since elementary school – the sudden and complete removal of this little independence was a smarting humiliation on top of everything else, but he had known not to push his mother on it. He had accepted the ride with little complaint, just grateful she had relented on keeping him home, and had managed to arrive exactly late enough that the hallways were packed with prying eyes.
At least these were mostly strangers; Izuku knew it was going to be so much worse when it was his classmates’ judging eyes appraising him. He had worked so hard to gain all their respect, it was terrible to be back at square one. Several paces back, even. At least they had known from the beginning that he was quirkless; there had been no deception there.
Izuku could feel himself shrinking further and further into himself as more people turned to him. The shocked silence had given way to rushed whispers, it was only a matter of time before some particularly brave students dropped the whisper entirely and then Izuku would hear everything he already knew they were saying. His skin was crawling, the beetles had grown large, their tiny clicking feet digging into him rather than scuttling over him; the hallway was getting hot, the beetles were burning, their weight was growing, heavier and heavier on his chest. He shouldn’t have come, he wasn’t ready, he –
“Midoriya.” A voice, quiet, calm, familiar. Footsteps, quiet, familiar, suddenly in step with his own. The beetles scuttled away, Izuku’s breathing eased.
“T-Todoroki,” his voice was rougher than he wanted, cracking in the beginning in a useless stutter, but if his friend noticed, he said nothing.
Izuku risked a glance up from the tiled floor he had been memorizing as he’d walked. The staring was gone; suddenly, students were interested in everything but him, even though Todoroki’s sudden appearance, had brought his brisk movement through the halls to a complete standstill. He risked a glance at Todoroki and – yes, just as he had suspected, Todoroki’s heterochromatic glare was roaming the hall, a promise of violence etched into every sharp corner of his face.
A small part of Izuku was grateful, the largest part of Izuku felt guilty at the relief of having Todoroki to scare off the other students. “Y-you shouldn’t do that,” he told his friend, lightly nudging him as he began walking again.
“I’m not doing anything.” Todoroki’s bald-faced lie came smoothly, unconcernedly.
“You’re scaring people.”
“If they weren’t staring at us, they wouldn’t be doing anything to be scared about.” Todoroki’s retort was matter-of-fact and unapologetic. Izuku didn’t even have time to voice his response – that it wasn’t very heroic to scare people off – when another person came into step with them.
“Midoriya, I’m glad to see you’re back, ribbit.” Tsu, her face calm and passive even as her long hair swished a little too closely to someone standing against the wall, had caught up with them.
“T-Thanks, Tsu. I’m sorry I scared you all yesterday.”
“Not your fault.” Todoroki and Tsu spoke in unison and Izuku blinked at them, too surprised to be worried. Tsu and Todoroki got along fine, both being the mostly calm counterparts to the more boisterous of Izuku’s friends, but Izuku had never once thought of them as close enough to actually speak at the same time, or even voice the same thoughts. It was mildly terrifying.
“Iida gathered copies of notes from the classes you missed.” Tsu continued, as though nothing was amiss while Izuku’s entire world view shifted slightly. Todoroki and Tsu were a dangerous, previously unconsidered prospect “He’s got them in the classroom, ribbit.” For her to have known that, Tsu must have already made it to the classroom. Had she been waiting for him? Had Todoroki, then, been waiting for him as well?
Had they come back out and waited in the halls just so Izuku wouldn’t have to brave the walk alone?
Something in his heart swelled and Izuku couldn’t help but smile, his first real smile since he had woken to Recovery Girl’s concerned tutting.
He had been right in one regard, at least. He hadn’t lost the support of his friends. A part of his icy fear thawed, and he found himself walking with his head up just a little higher.
“Hey! Hey, Class 1-A!” A voice, loud and grating, called out to them. Izuku’s steps faltered just a moment. “Hey, come on, don’t ignore me!” The voice continued; Izuku didn’t recognize it, but he was familiar with the tone. It was trouble. “What, you think you’re too good to listen to a Gen Ed?” The voice was closer now, and Izuku subconsciously sped up. He could feel Todoroki and Tsu both tense beside him but they wouldn’t risk not keeping step with him. Tsu, Izuku was fairly certain, wouldn’t needlessly start a fight, but Todoroki would. Izuku wouldn’t be the reason the other boy got in trouble.
“Oh, come on! I just want to talk to 1-A’s infamous charity project! I heard you’re a real cuti-“
“If you want to keep that tongue of yours, I suggest you stop wagging it.” Todoroki’s voice was icy fury even as Izuku felt sudden heat. Some might have been from him; he knew his face was burning. Of all the kinds of comments he had been subjected to, the ones about his appearance had always been the most demeaning. With only a small amount of hesitation, Izuku reached out and tugged on Todoroki’s arm to keep the other boy walking.
They couldn’t have a fight in the hall.
The mysterious boy – Izuku still hadn’t turned to see them, but it was a distinctly male voice speaking out to them – saw the touch.
“Ah, I get it. Guess the hero students really do get the best of amenities, even a cute little omega to keep you all satisfied –“
“Tadashi, Nezu’s office.” Izuku was torn between relief and horror as the door in front of them – they had nearly made it to the classroom, he hadn’t even realized – slid open with an almost sickening bang, revealing Mr. Aizawa’s looming, furious expression.
Izuku couldn’t stop himself from turning - between being subject to Mr. Aizawa’s terrifying anger and some other student trying to mock him, Izuku would risk the other student. The student, indeed a boy, was taller and older, likely a second or third year, dressed in the general education uniform. None of that was as important as the sudden look of pure terror on his face.
“Mr. Aizawa! I was just – “
“Save your excuses for the principal.” Mr. Aizawa interrupted. “You’ll need all of them to try and convince him not to expel you on the spot for that gross display of sexism, not to mention the harassment of a younger student. Get going.”
The boy – Tadashi – went running. All four of them watched him go for a moment before Todoroki spoke. “I could have handled that.” There was a note of consternation in his voice, the type that he shouldn’t have had against any teacher, let alone an already angry Mr. Aizawa.
“You handling it would have meant detention and paperwork.” Mr. Aizawa responded shortly before moving aside to give them access to the classroom. “Now all three of you get in here before I consider you late.” Izuku scrambled into the classroom, none of his anxieties about his classmates a match to his fear of Mr. Aizawa’s anger.
He had already disappointed the man so much and that was the second student his teacher had probably expelled on Izuku’s behalf. At some point, the balance between keeping Izuku and keeping other students would have to be weighed, and Izuku knew it would not be in his favor.
The classroom was already bustling, nearly every seat filled, but it all fell silent as Izuku’s appearance became known. He felt himself pause despite himself – his desk was so close, but simultaneously so far. The eyes of all his classmates were upon him now and he just knew they were contemplating his worth, appraising why someone like him took a spot in their classroom, judging his lies, considering his abilities.
His breath was catching again, despite himself – these eyes were worse than all the ones in the hallways, Izuku didn’t know those people, he could ignore them; they were worse than Tadashi’s comments, those were meaningless words, Izuku had heard worse in middle school, and again, he didn’t know Tadashi. But Izuku knew his classmates, he knew these eyes. It would be Kacchan and all his preschool friends all over again, the loss of respect and friendliness because of something outside of his control, it would be so much worse than that, it would be –
“What are all of you waiting for, settle down and get your things out so we can get started.” A hand, large and warm even in its brusqueness, tapped against Izuku’s shoulder once, squeezing quickly before dropping away, brought Izuku back into reality. The bell hadn’t rung, Izuku was mostly certain, but the gazes, heavy and oppressive, fell away from him like magic as all his classmates scurried to obey. Izuku found himself able to move again and he quickly made his way to his desk, Todoroki just a step behind him as Tsu went onto the opposite side for her seat.
He had expected the desk behind him to be empty – a good buffer between Izuku and his other classmates because Yaoyorozu would be too polite to outright stare, even if she was judging him – and he nearly startled as he caught sight of the tired looking Hitoshi Shinsou slumped into Mineta’s old seat. Izuku hadn’t seen the boy since the Sports Festival, but he felt guilty for not even thinking it was a possibility that he would be moved up – it was what the other boy had so desperately wanted, and he had one of the most perfect quirks for hero work. He felt even more guilty that he hadn’t even noticed him when he had first entered the classroom.
Had Shinsou been moved in yesterday, before Mineta had even left UA, or was this his first day in? Did he know what had happened? Did he know about Izuku, know why practically everyone’s eyes were still following him, even as the other classmates tried to hide it behind textbooks and notebooks? Or was he still in the dark?
The polite part of Izuku knew he should greet the other boy; they had only met once but it wasn’t like they were total strangers, and Shinsou deserved to be congratulated on accomplishing his transfer, but anxiety kept him from opening his mouth and he dropped into his seat without a word. Shinsou hadn’t looked up from his slumped position, and besides, Izuku had no idea how the boy would react to him. If he knew, he likely wasn’t taking his quick defeat at the hands of a quirkless omega well, and Izuku desperately did not want to open himself to any more problems. Silence was better than outright consternation.
“We are starting a project today for Ethics.” Mr. Aizawa announced once the scramble for seats and materials had finished but before wandering eyes could return to Izuku. “You will be working in groups – that I have assigned –“ he added before murmurs can break out. “It will be on disadvantaged groups within Japan and how heroes can best work with these communities. You will research these communities, research areas that they are most overlooked, and come up with at least one-way heroes can better include and help these groups. You will then present to the class your projects. I expect these to be taken seriously and for you to approach your discussion of these groups with the utmost respect and care; anyone who fails in that alone, will receive a zero on the project.”
Izuku tried not to feel betrayed. This was probably a common project, it was definitely an important topic and something that needed to be considered, but he couldn’t help but feel singled out. The timing for the project was too perfect and Izuku had read all of his syllabi enough times to have them virtually memorized – he didn’t remember a project like this ever listed. The murmurs that had broken out in the classroom seemed to mirror his confusion and did not nothing to ease the growing feeling of dread in his chest.
Mr. Aizawa was entirely unaffected by the low break out of noise as he handed a stack of papers to Shoji to pass out. “The guidelines and expectations for the project are clearly laid out on these papers, as are the groups and an approved list of potential groups. I expect your topics of choice and a rough citations page listing at least one source from each of your group members by the end of the week. You all will have homeroom and Ethics period today to begin working. If you need any assistance or you are interested in working with a group not listed, we can discuss it during Ethics. For now, get into your groups and begin working. Do not bother me for anything less than maiming.” And with that proclamation Mr. Aizawa whirled towards his desk and immediately pulled out his sleeping bag. Izuku was a little disturbed to realize it was new and had split sections for his legs.
Was he planning on running in it?
The thought was enough to distract him for a few seconds until Shoji was gently laying a paper on Izuku’s notebook, bringing his attention back to the real world.
“T-thank you, Shoji.” Izuku couldn’t quite bring himself to lift his gaze to make eye contact – would there be judgment in Shoji’s eyes? – but politeness was ingrained.
“Of course, Midoriya.” Shoji’s quiet, deep voice was as neutrally polite as always, giving none of the boy’s true feelings away as he moved on to pass the final copies to Shinsou and Yaoyorozu before returning to his own desk.
Izuku decided not to dwell on it, it would do no good to overanalyze any of his classmates, and tried to distract himself by looking through the paper before him. The instructions were simple enough, laid out in the same clear, precise words that had demarcated all of Mr. Aizawa’s assignments, but it was obvious that it would be a lot of work. This was not a spur of the moment type project, or at least he tried to tell himself that as he read through all of the expectations and requirements of the assignment. The list of example projects was extensive and Izuku tried not to let it drag on him that he was one of few students who actually represented any of the groups and the only one who represented two.
He just knew, knew, one of the groups in the class would pick either the quirkless population or the omega population to do their report on it. How much worse would it be once a portion of his classmates actually started researching and learned exactly how much trouble someone like Izuku could be? How much worse when they told the rest of the class?
Already, his fellow classmates were moving around, gathering into their groups in order to go over the project themselves. Izuku knew he should be doing the same but he hadn’t even brought himself to turn the page of the assignment over to see what group he was in, who he would be forced to work with. Izuku was too scared at what he would find in his group mates’ eyes to join them. He wasn’t lucky enough to get all his friends, he knew that, and besides Mr. Aizawa had probably purposely sorted everyone into groups that separated close friends so that everyone could get a chance to learn to work with different people. It was the type of logical decision the teacher would work with, especially if this assignment had been decided before Mineta. The best Izuku could hope for was indifference, and he wasn’t quite ready to face what could be worse. What if –
“Midoriya.” Shinsou’s voice, low and quiet, with a pleasant, melodious undertone Izuku half-recognized from the Sports Festival – he had a paragraph or two about the melody in Shinsou’s voice, theorizing whether it was a byproduct of Shinsou’s vocal quirk, a natural allure that compelled people to want to listen – written in his notebook. Izuku had been so fascinated by Shinsou’s quirk, once all the drama with Todoroki had subsided, and he had written about him the same as all his other classmates, under the pretense that the boy would eventually make it. How creepy they probably all thought of that, how creepy Shinsou would think about it, if he knew. Another strike against Izuku, another reason his classmates had to turn away from him, he was creepy and a liar on top of being –
“Midoriya.” Another voice, Todoroki’s this time, broke in again and this time Izuku actually managed to raise up his head and turn in the direction of their voices. He was dumbfounded to see Todoroki and Uraraka flanking Shinsou’s desk, Uraraka’s bright smile at odds with Todoroki’s solemn face and Shinsou’s pinched exhaustion. Hovering slightly behind them was Iida, his expression serious and the instructions for the assignment clutched tightly in his hand. Izuku didn’t know why they were all there – it couldn’t be that they were all working together, Mr. Aizawa would never.
They probably needed his desk – a quick glance around the room made it obvious that the class had gathered into their groups – Kirishima and Kaminari were in the process of shoving desks into an irate looking Bakugou’s but everyone else seemed to have settled apart from the group around Shinsou. Izuku was holding everyone up.
“Oh, um, s-sorry guys. I haven’t seen what group I’m in, give me just a moment and I’ll um get out of your wa-“ Izuku went to look down at his paper but was interrupted smoothly.
“Don’t be silly, Deku!” Uraraka intoned brightly, a little too loudly than necessary, as she hopped a little onto the balls of her feet, “you’re with us!” Izuku was a little slow on the uptake – he had been distracted by movement in the group next to them – had Sato flinched when Uraraka spoke or had he imagined that? – and it took a moment for her words to click. “I am?”
“Yes!” Uraraka cheered. “Let’s get these desks together so we can start! This is going to be great! We’re so lucky to all be friends – it would have been even better to have Tsu, too, but I’ll settle for Shinsou, since the groups had to be even.”
“Wow. So flattered.” Shinsou droned, dragging Izuku’s attention back to him. The boy looked less indifferent now and more – annoyed? Uncertain? Defeated? Izuku couldn’t quite tell.
“You should be.” It was Todoroki who responded even as he was in the process of moving his chair up to be right next to Izuku, completely foregoing his own desk in favor of stealing a corner of Izuku’s. “We don’t pick just anyone to be friends with. You didn’t even have to bleed for it.”
“We aren’t friends and even if I was tempted to be your friend, knowing bloodshed is an expectation of friendship is not a selling point.” Shinsou definitely sounded annoyed but there was also a hint of defeat in his voice; had they had this argument before? When would they have had time? Uraraka, Izuku believed, could have tried to make Shinsou a friend, but Todoroki? Had made a friend? Willingly?
“What else would seal a friendship?” Todoroki responded in a matter-of-fact way that Izuku wasn’t quite certain was a joke or not.
“Shinsou has bled to be our friend!” Uraraka said at the same time, dragging two more seats over for herself and Iida. Her words were considerably more worrying. What had they been up to when Izuku was gone? “When Deku threw him out of the arena!”
“This is an unbecoming subject!” Iida, thank everything, interrupted, his arm coming down in an irritated chopping motion as Uraraka. “We are meant to be focusing on our project! We can discuss Shinsou’s inclusion to our friend group during recreational time!”
“I’m not your frien –“
“I suppose that’s true.” Todoroki ignored Shinsou handily. “He’ll be with us at lunch. We can fill Midoriya in about our new friend then.”
“H-he will?”
“I will not!”
Izuku and Shinsou had spoken in startling unison, their voices a little too loud for the classroom. Izuku blushed hard when everyone’s eyes turned to them. He had an apology on his lips but before he could stutter out a single word, Todoroki had turned sharply in his seat to look out at their classmates. As quickly as they had looked, they had all turned back around, some more hastily than others, a hint of what could only have been fear rushing their motions.
What had happened when Izuku had been gone?
“You will.” Todoroki had turned back to the group, no hint of whatever had sent their classmates scurrying away present on his placid face. Shinsou looked like he was about to argue again, his face pinched with annoyance and his eyes narrowed into as fierce a glare as he could manage under their thick bags of exhaustions, but Todoroki smoothly moved on, completely unruffled. “Let’s go our project started. Does anyone have a preference for the group they want to study?”
And so everything fell to the waste side. Izuku knew none of it was gone – the weirdness with their classmates, the questions he knew were waiting for him, whatever had happened with Shinsou – all of it was waiting for him, an exhausting tribulation waiting just on the other side of the class period – but for the rest of homeroom, as they debated the merits of each group, he was able to let all the worries drop aside.
Not one of the group, even Shinsou, suggested omegas or the quirkless to work with as they all debated which they should pick. Whether it was out of an attempt to ignore the glaring pink elephant in the room or an attempt to allow Izuku the space of offering up the groups himself, he couldn’t say. But he appreciated it, the small mercy they all offered him. He didn’t join in the debate himself, still a little too aware of his own body to do more than murmur soft assents or hesitant dissents, but he allowed it to surround him and buoy him above some of his worries. They were still there, but for a few precious moments, Izuku was above them rather than drowning in them.
When they eventually fell on the topic of villainous quirks – Shinsou’s grudgingly given pick that Todoroki and Uraraka had acquiesced to at a suspicious rate – the class period was nearly over. English was next and Izuku had expected everyone to have to return to their seats once Present Mic had walked in but – in yet another suspicious coincidence – they just so happened to be in the exact groups Present Mic had picked for the English translation he was assigning so there was ‘no point moving around, Little Listeners!’ and he found himself shielded by Todoroki’s presence for another class.
Midnight, too, didn’t find any reason to make everyone move around because she was giving them free time to work on their semester project – the only one, Izuku was almost certain, who was actually being honest in her schemes, if only because she had assigned it last week. And then, just like that, it was lunch time and Izuku had made it through half the day nearly unscathed.
Shinsou had done his best to escape when Midnight had dismissed all of them but it seemed Todoroki and Uraraka had seemingly become Shinsou wranglers overnight and had flanked him the moment he had stood from his desk to ensure he had no easy escape. “Lunch time!” Uraraka cheered, stretching one arm out to interlock it with one of Shinsou’s, ignoring the other boy’s furious expression. “Let’s hurry and get a good table!” And with that, Uraraka was dragging Shinsou along with them, her cheerfulness at odds with the boy’s stormy expression.
Izuku would have said something about not dragging Shinsou where he obviously didn’t want to be if he wasn’t suddenly bombarded with stares the moment he left the classroom. He could feel them on him again, the stares of all the other UA students, and felt himself collapse slightly in on himself. It had been a nice few hours, while it had lasted.
They waited a moment outside the door, Izuku desperately trying not to let the lingering looks get to him, even though the prying eyes felt like sandpaper against his exposed skin, for Tsu to join with them. He tried to remain – not cheery, necessarily, he hadn’t been quite cheery all day, a little quieter than usual which his friends had thankfully ignored – calm as they walked the halls but then, just like the morning, whispers began following the stares and Izuku felt himself wilt further.
His friends noticed. Of course, they did. Todoroki took to glaring again and even Uraraka made perhaps too much of a show of stretching her free hand – all five fingers raised– out a little too widely as she walked past one whispering girl. Izuku didn’t recognize her but the way she broke away from her whispers to flinch back from Uraraka’s hand suggested she definitely knew what kind of havoc rested underneath the pink pads of Uraraka’s small fingers .
He would have lectured them, if he could find his voice amidst the whispers and the stares. It wasn’t worth them getting into trouble on his behalf, not to mention unbecoming of heroes, to act like that. But before he could say anything, Shinsou had half-turned to him, his expression slightly less pained then it had been in the classroom and spoke in a quiet voice, “Just let them do it.”
Izuku stared at him for a moment. Logically, he knew Shinsou was talking to him, the other boy was looking right at him, but it was hard to make sense of why he was – he seemed to want to be there less than anyone else in the entire world – or how he seemed to have figured out exactly what Izuku was thinking. Shinsou, for his part, just half-shrugged, careful not to joust Uraraka too much in a way that had Izuku considering just how unwilling he was to be dragged by her. “They’re going to do it anyway. Did it all day yesterday and will probably keep doing it until everyone stops being stupid about you. Could be a couple days, could be forever.” He shrugged again, seemingly unconcerned about the fact that he had just spoken more to Izuku in a single moment than he had all other times combined.
“What do you mean?” Izuku’s volume was even lower than Shinsou’s, barely more than a whisper. Shinsou shrugged again as they all turned into the cafeteria.
“I never doubt the stupidity of people. So they could end up doing this forever.”
Izuku wanted to correct Shinsou. That wasn’t what he meant – Izuku hadn’t been talking about the length of time Uraraka and Todoroki could continue threatening people, nor how long people could be stupid for. But Shinsou had answered him so matter-of-factly, as though there was nothing else Izuku could be questioning, that the words died on his lips.
Shinsou seemed to have accepted him so easily, seemed to have no problem with him, no resentment towards him, it was almost unbelievable. But there was no hesitancy in the way Shinsou described everyone else as being stupid, as though it had never occurred to him that their treatment of Izuku was anything other than absurd. Izuku shouldn’t let himself feel warmed by that, shouldn’t be pleased that his new classmate was insulting so many others so casually. But he also shouldn’t have been grateful for the way Uraraka and Todoroki seemed to force away all the wandering looks as they walked through the cafeteria, shouldn’t have been touched by the way Tsu walked so close to him that he could feel her comforting warmth without her body actually touching his own, or the way Iida shifted slightly as he walked, just enough that Izuku was shielded from most of the stares by the other boy’s larger frame.
Izuku should tell his friends they didn’t need to worry so much. Should encourage Todoroki and Uraraka not to threaten people on his behalf, should try and make sure Shinsou hadn’t been forcibly adopted into the friend group against his will. But it was hard to tell himself he shouldn’t bask in the tender, hopeful feelings that having them – even Shinsou – by his side produced.
The morning had been rough and it was only one small half of one very long day in a series of long days that were going to be difficult. Izuku had been through it before, and he knew he could handle it, knew that he would handle it no matter what, because his dreams lay at the end of all the difficult days.
But there was something endlessly comforting in the knowledge that for once, from now on until he reached the end, he would not have to handle it alone.