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Izuku’s like ivy , Hitoshi thinks.
You know that type of ivy that you see on the sides of old houses, overgrown and untamed. It clings to dirt and brick walls. Wedges itself in every hold it can find. And it climbs and climbs with all its strength.
People think of it as a nuisance. It can’t be contained. You can cut it back, use chemicals, or torch it. If even one root is left untouched it bounces back with even more vigor.
It grows , and grows and grows. Shimmying up drainage pipes , working around windows , soaking up as much sunlight as it can before it’s cut back again.
Hitoshi likes ivy. No … he loves it. He loves the way it drapes past Izuku’s ears, the way it hangs over his eyes and brushes his nose. The way it bounces and curls and twists when he laughs, the way it covers his freckles when he smiles that wide smile, with apple cheeks and eyes crinkled and scrunched in joy.
Izuku is his ivy.
He knows of the pain Izuku went through. When insomnia got to bad to ignore , the nightmares too lifelike to stay still , and the silence of the dorm became to loud, he padded down the stairs softly and found Izuku in the common room, and he sat with him , and after a couple moments of quiet they talked. And then talked some more.
In hushed voices they talked about the night terrors and relived trauma, with tense shoulders , tired eyes , and shaky hands.
One night became two , two become three , and these nightly talks became common occurrence.
You’d think he’d be put off or annoyed by 1A’s sunshine boy, but you see like recognizes like , or birds of a feather flock together.
He’s noticed the way Izuku stuttered and stammered , the way his eyes would flitter about the classroom always moving as if waiting for something to pop out , to strike. They way his smile was strained , not always fully reaching his eyes. The way his shoulders hunched protecting his neck, the way he’d flinched at quick movements or sudden sounds .
Sudden popping sparking sounds.
He didn’t need to spend countless sleepless nights with izuku to know those things , but they certainty filled him in.
Filled him in , in the different and numerous ways his ivy’s been cut down , held back , burned. And each and every time he’s come back. He doesn’t like that his ivy’s been through so much , been treated with such distain, not one bit.
They sat on the couch. And he watched as his ivy wilted in front of his very eyes. As those bright intelligent expressive eyes, dulled and glossed over no longer that deep forest green. He waited patiently as 1A’s sunshine spoke quietly about how he’d been plucked and stepped on and …. And crushed.
He sat there and came to the realization that 1A’s sunshine had been denied and depraved of sunlight himself, at every single turn, by every single person.
How he was overlooked while the dandelion next to him was favored and praised. Harmed and discriminated against for something not in his control.
Even though it wasn’t him that was the weed.
Their relationship changed after that. He recognized the way izuku would become overwhelmed by the constant noise from their classmates, or the he’d flinch especially hard when Bomb boys explosions popped too close or too loud and offered him a safe space in the form of study sessions and low music or lunch outside in the sun.
And Izuku would return it, when silence became too much, too overwhelming and smothering , Izuku would notice and talk to him.
About anything an everything, his voice filling the space around them bleeding into a gentle hum, that stopped his jaw from locking and mouth drying. And he’d listen and hum along and add in from time to time. Not having to worry about being hushed or shut down. Because Izuku listened and understood.
He understood because no one listened to him.
Their relationship grew even more.
One night sitting on the couch in the common room, exhaustion winning out. Izuku slowly losing to sleep, leaned over and his head knocked against his shoulder.
The ivy sprawled over and around him. And he let it.
Right then and there he decided he’d change that wilted defeated look.
Now that he can , now that he’s here next to his ivy, he’ll make sure he flourishes. He’ll provide all the sunlight and space his ivy needs to grow. Because he deserves it.
Because he’s not a useless, not annoying, not creepy, not a deku .
His ivy won’t be trampled on ever again, not if he has anything to say about it, which he most definitely does.