Chapter Text
He ended up going to the dance with Kacchan. It wasn't that he was disappointed, no, quite the opposite. If you had told five-year-old Izuku that he'd one day go to a formal dance with his best friend, he would have been ecstatic.
It just… wasn't who he was expecting to go with. Over the years, his relationship with Kacchan ebbed and flowed like the current of the river that ran through the wooded area behind their childhood homes. After all the bullying and abuse, to a strained acquaintanceship, to somewhat rivals, to suddenly deciding to start over and try to learn to be friends again to… whatever they were right now, Kacchan was the last person he expected to show up at his door at exactly 17:00 sharp in a burnt orange dress shirt, pinstripe black suit jacket, and dress pants, holding a single red camellia between his fingertips.
Izuku wasn't even dressed at that point; still in a pair of bright red basketball shorts and a white T-shirt with the words "dress shirt" written across the chest. He'd found the T-shirt funny considering he wasn't going to the dance anymore. No, after the argument he had with his would-be-date, Shinsou, that afternoon, Izuku had resigned himself to spending the night eating cup ramen and re-watching Top 100 All Might Rescue Moments of All Time (Number Seven Will Surprise You!) until he passed out.
But there was something about Kacchan’s hardening scowl, the way his red eyes filled with anger and annoyance and condescension that reignited all those feelings Izuku tried to bottle up deep inside long ago. All too familiar butterflies fluttered in his stomach like they did every time he'd looked at Kacchan for the past 12 years they’d known each other.
Kacchan’s subsequent yelling brought back the cold tendrils of dread that had made itself home in Izuku’s gut during middle school. The off-yellow walls of the dorm hallway seemed to shrink, the air growing thin as Kacchan's voice echoed throughout the hallway. Loud enough to wake up the entire dormitory if anyone was asleep. Kacchan was usually the only person in bed before 17:00.
To Izuku, however, Kacchan’s words were muffled as if his head was underwater, breath drawn from his lungs, whirling around faster and faster, memories bubbling to the surface. He caught bits and pieces.
“Your stupid friend, Round-Face told me to pick you up”
“Go fucking change. I know your fashion sense is fucking atrocious but that’s awful even for you.”
“You better not make us late or I’ll fucking kill you.”
His words lunged at him, sinking into his skin, harsh and sharp. The hallway remained empty as the words bounced off the walls, echoing through the floor. Everyone was already used to Kacchan’s yelling, and no one was more used to the bite of Kacchan’s tone than Izuku.
The yelling stopped. Izuku opened his eyes— when had he closed them?— and blinked. Once. Twice. His hands had flown up to cover his face and curled into fists, knees bent as if he was ready to fight.
He immediately stood up straight. Pink shame bloomed on his cheeks. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He needed to get ahold of himself. It wasn’t even Kacchan’s fault. Yelling was the only way he knew how to communicate and over the past two years, Kacchan had more than made up for his past mistakes in both apologies and actions.
So why did this happen every time he…
“Tch” Kacchan’s voice cut him out of his thoughts. He shoved the camellia into Izuku’s chest, his red eyes not quite reaching Izuku’s. He couldn’t quite read Kacchan’s expression. Something between regret and pity if he had to guess. A sudden familiar pain struck his chest. His stomach stretched and twisted like a rubber band about to snap.
“I’m giving you fifteen minutes. Got it? You better look presentable or else I’m going to leave without you and your stupid friend can bitch at me all she wants.” Kacchan slammed the door in his face.
Izuku’s heart raced. He stared blankly at the small flower in his hand. It wasn’t a rose, but roses were common; a cliche. Kacchan was never one for cliches. It had to mean something… right?
Oh god, it was finally happening, wasn’t it? The moment Izuku dreamed of since he’d first met Kacchan. He felt lighter. The bold primary colors of his All Might-themed dorm room grew more vibrant. A tornado of thoughts swirled around in his head so fast it felt empty.
He gently set the flower on his desk and opened his closet, thanking his past self that he had the foresight to iron his suit that morning. He quickly put on a mint green button-down— silently cursing as his fingers fumbled over the buttons— and almost fell over as he hopped into his dress pants. He combed his hair— or at least tried his best to, his hair never liked to be tamed— and clipped on the deep purple bow tie Todoroki bought him earlier that week– with his father’s credit card, of course.
He checked the time: 17:13, just enough time to spritz on the novelty All Might cologne his mother bought him for his birthday last year— a fruity mix of cotton candy and punch. He only wore it on special occasions and this was definitely a special occasion.
He looked around and made sure he had everything. His phone was only at 46%, but that was more than enough battery to last the night… probably. If he had checked his texts earlier, he might’ve had time to get ready.
His earlier argument with Shinsou flashed in his head.
He would never have ditched Shinsou for Kacchan if he’d asked him… at least he thought he wouldn’t.
Perhaps Shinsou was right. He tended to be right about a lot of things. Or maybe he wasn’t, and Izuku was just letting doubt’s dark shadows cloud his vision.
Before opening the door, Izuku slipped the camelia into his breast pocket, stem fitting perfectly as if that’s where it was meant to go.
"I'm sorry for making you wait Kacchan. I put my phone on silent and I didn't see your text. I actually wasn't planning on going so you knocking on my door really caught me off guard and—"
"Shut the fuck up Deku." Kacchan cut him off.
Izuku flinched. He tried laughing it off, but it sounded more like a wheeze or a cough.
"Sorry! Um… sorry, Kacchan, I guess I'm just a bit—" Izuku was starting to regret not wearing a short-sleeved shirt. He could practically feel himself sweating through his deodorant and they weren't even at the dance yet.
"You don't need to keep apologizing," Kacchan said. His voice was softer than usual, closer to a low grumble.
Izuku’s heartbeat quickened. He smiled, hesitant and shaky. Kacchan was clearly making an effort not to yell just for him. Without anyone telling him to! He'd never done that before. In the past, all of Kacchan's efforts to apologize or change his behavior for the better were spurred on by All Might or Kacchan's friends. Yet, here he was, changing his tone just to make Izuku a little more comfortable. Suddenly, everything became lighter. It was enough to make Izuku faint.
"Oh, right, sorry," Izuku said, immediately tensing up again. He scrunched his eyes tight. He did it again. Here Kacchan was putting in so much effort to curb his bad habits and Izuku was still over-apologizing.
“Tch, whatever.” Kacchan rolled his eyes and snatched Izuku’s hand. It was an awkward fit, less hand-holding and more Kacchan trying to crush Izuku's fingers together into a singular space.
He dragged him down the hallway so fast Izuku stumbled every other step. "Do whatever you want, I don't fucking care. We've been standing around for too long. You're going to make us fucking late and I'll never hear the end of it from Raccoon-Eyes and Shit-For-Brains and whoever else keeps prying into my fucking personal business."
Izuku managed to keep up pace with Kacchan's angry stomping. If the hands in his bones didn't feel like they were cracking, he would have thought this was a dream. Being Kacchan's maybe-romantic-maybe-platonic-who-knew-where-their-relationship-stood-at-this-point date was something that Izuku dreamed about for years. Literally. Izuku remembered writing down this exact scenario from his dreams in his All Might-themed diary when he was six, seven, and ten before Kacchan stole it and read it out loud to his entire class on the first day of junior high. Izuku decided to never keep a diary after that and kept his journaling strictly to hero analysis.
But Izuku had long forgiven Kacchan for that. He'd forgiven Kacchan for everything he'd done to him. Because he was Kacchan. Izuku spent his entire life by Kacchan’s side in one way or another. He was amazing at everything he did; strong and determined and seemed to naturally excel at anything he put his mind to. Izuku couldn’t imagine spending his life with anyone else.
Outside, the cool evening breeze smacked Izuku in the face. Random strands stuck to his neck and cheeks, ruining whatever attempt at styling his hair he had made earlier. Kacchan led him to a sleek red scooter with flame designs on the side because, of course, Kacchan would have a scooter with flame designs.
He gave Izuku one of the helmets from the little basket at the back of the scooter: black with red barbed-wire decals wrapped around it in random criss-cross patterns.
“Shitty-Hair said you can borrow it tonight. It's too late to walk to the venue." Kacchan said. He put on his own helmet, black with a flame and explosion design that matched the ones in Izuku's hands. "Just put it on before you make us even more late. The dumbasses are probably already there wondering where we are.”
Izuku nodded and put on the helmet, taking the second seat behind Kacchan.“Oh… okay. Sorry again for making you la–”
“You don’t need to keep apologizing. How many times do I need to tell you, stupid Deku?”
“R…right. S–” Izuku stopped himself. They drove to the venue in stilted silence.
—
The venue looked like something out of a movie with glittering gold walls and deep red velvet curtains draped across massive windows revealing a clear night sky dotted with stars. The entrance led to a marble staircase with tall columns placed on either side leading down to dark oak wood floors where hundreds of people milled about. Izuku didn’t know this many people even attended his school, much less this many third years. He stopped at the top of the staircase and looked around, breathless.
“Are you coming down or are you just going to stand there and stare all night?” Kacchan snapped, and Izuku blinked out of his thoughts. He smiled and nodded, walking down the stairs. Kacchan never was one for patience or anything over the top and fancy. He probably wanted to get this dance over with as soon as possible. Part of him still wondered why Kacchan even took him in the first place.
The bottom of the stairs led to a dance floor with tables of snacks and drinks on either side. At the far end of the room, Present Mic sat at a DJ booth blasting some sort of early 2000s pop song so loud that Izuku could barely hear anything else.
He scanned the crowd for people he knew. Across the dance floor, he spotted his friend, Tsu, talking to Mina and a girl from Class B that he didn’t quite remember the name of. A few meters next to them was Iida and Mineta. Based on the way Iida was wildly moving his hands around and the way his eyebrows were furrowed, Izuku assumed he was telling Mineta off for breaking a school rule.
“Ah, Young Bakugou and Young Midoriya, how are you enjoying your third-year formal?”
Izuku flinched and turned around. All Might appeared behind him. His mustard yellow pinstripe suit hung off of his bony shoulders.
“Oh! Hey All Might. Yeah, it’s really fancy,” Izuku said.
All Might laughed and patted both of them on the back. “I’m so proud that both of you are finally getting along. You had such a rough start, and while I can’t say I’m not surprised, I am very supportive of your relationship.” He winked at them.
Izuku’s face flushed bright red. He stared at All Might and then at Kacchan and then back at All Might. “Oh… Oh, no, it’s not like that we’re not–”
“Tch whatever, don’t you have chaperoning to do? Pretty sure Dunce-Face is over there spiking the punch bowl.” Kacchan pointed his thumb to his right where Kaminari and Sero poured a nondescript clear liquid into a glass bowl half filled with red punch.
“Ah! Thank you for pointing that out Young Bakugou, now go have fun.” All Might puffed up into his big hero form, growing half a foot taller. Muscles bulged out of his suit to the point where Izuku wondered how the seams didn’t rip. He ran off in the other direction.
Kacchan huffed and rolled his eyes. “I told them it was a stupid plan.” He turned toward Izuku and held out his hand. “It’s called a dance so we should go do that."
Izuku smiled and took his hand, only for Kacchan to immediately drop it and wipe his hand on his pants.
“Ugh, Deku your hands are so fucking sweaty it’s disgusting.” Kacchan all but spit at him.
Izuku’s face flushed, the words ‘Well you're one to talk, your quirk makes you constantly sweat nitroglycerin’ sat on the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back in favor of another apology. What was wrong with him? It wasn’t like he hadn’t talked back to Kacchan before, they usually went back and forth with quips and insults. Things were getting better. Izuku was getting better. Their relationship was getting better. Why did today have to be a day when it all came flooding back to him? Why on today of all days?
“Whatever, it’s fine. I was fucking joking, you stupid nerd.” Kacchan roughly grabbed Izuku’s hand and dragged him out to the dance floor.
Something sunk to the bottom of Izuku’s stomach, bulbous and solid and squirming. His face grew warm. A familiar pressure built up behind his eyes. The music melded together, one continuous beat, a singular voice singing nothing at all. Kacchan's lips moved but Izuku couldn't quite tell what he was saying.
Why was he like this? Every single time something happened between him and Kacchan his stupid brain would get in the way and he'd fuck it all up again. He always did this. Kacchan was right. He really was awful and useless and dumb and—
Izuku took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around Kacchan's waist. He rested his head on his shoulder and sighed. Even after the two growth spurts he had during high school, Kacchan was still slightly taller than him. He couldn't even beat Kacchan in something as trivial as height.
“Thank you, for taking me Kacchan.” He said, his voice muffled in the fabric of his jacket. He could practically feel Kacchan roll his eyes as he wrapped his arms around him in a weird awkward hug.
Kacchan huffed. “Thank your stupid friend. I wasn’t even gonna fucking come.”
They stayed like that for a while. Part of Izuku wished they could stay like that forever. Silently enjoying each other’s company. No yelling. No flinching. No spiraling thoughts.
However, deep down, Izuku knew they couldn’t go back to the way things were when they were five and Izuku was content following Kacchan around wherever he went. Back before Kacchan got his quirk and Izuku didn't and everything changed between them.
“HEY UA CLASS OF 20XX!!” The music lowered in volume, quickly replaced with Present Mic's booming voice.
There were a few cheers, some more enthusiastic than others. Izuku let go of Kacchan and opted to instead stand by his side.
“It’s time for the partner-swap dance. Find someone you didn’t come here with and ask them to dance. Being a hero is all about breaking out of your comfort zone so time to find a stranger and show them what you’re made of!!” Present Mic turned the music back up, some sort of base boosted dub step so loud the beat pounded against Izuku's ribs.
“Excuse me, may I cut in?” Ochako appeared next to them in a sparkly pink dress with a sweetheart neckline so low-cut he wondered how it didn't violate the school dress code and a floor length skirt padded with multiple petticoats and layer upon layer of tulle. She wore her hair in a half-up half-down hairdo that perfectly framed her pink cheeks.
Izuku smiled, a shaky smile. “Sure, Ochako. You look really pretty.” He held out his hand to her. A moment passed. And in the split second of silence, Izuku’s face flushed a bright red and he immediately backtracked. “Not that you’re not usually pretty. It’s just that that dress looks really nice on you and I like what you did with your hair… Err not that the way you usually do your hair isn’t nice it’s just—”
Ochako’s bubbly giggle cut him off. Even though they’d been best friends for two years, Izuku still struggled to compliment her. Sure, she was his first real best friend… and his longest friend too if he didn’t count whatever was going on with him and Kacchan. But she was also pretty and confident and outgoing and all the things that little voice inside of Izuku wished he was.
They’d tried dating toward the end of their first year of high school, but they didn’t last for much longer than a few months before mutually deciding it would be best to stay friends. He remembered that feeling after they broke up, sticky and saccharine. Though she claimed it was because she realized her crush was just a friend crush, Izuku knew she could see the dim embers of his feelings for Kacchan burning inside of him. It underlaid everything he did. The way he knew his eyes lit up whenever Kacchan walked into the room. The way he tended to hang on Kacchan’s every word. How he always brought him up in conversation without even realizing it.
Izuku was glad Ochako still decided to be friends with him. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. He told Ochako everything. Calling her was the first thing he did after his argument with Shinsou blew up in his face.
Now that she was here, some of their earlier conversation started to make sense. She was so insistent that everything would turn out okay, a steely determination in her voice mixed with a hint of mischief. She was up to something, that much was certain. Though, he wondered what asking Kacchan to take him to the dance had to do with it.
“Hello-oh. Earth to Deku.” Ochako waved her hand in front of Izuku’s face. He blinked. Oh, he was spacing out again. That seemed to happen to him more and more lately.
Izuku was glad she found him though; he’d been looking for her all night. It only felt natural that they’d dance the partner-swap dance together.
“A-ah sorry, I’ve just been thinking.” Out of the corner of his eye, Kacchan’s frown deepened. Was Kacchan not having a good time? Was Izuku ruining it for him?
“It’s okay!” Ochako said, staring up at him with her signature bright smile. “I was actually just about to say, while I’m really flattered at the offer, I was going to ask Bakugou if he wanted to dance.”
Kacchan raised his eyebrow, “What?”
“Yeah! I just wanted to switch it up you know.” Ochako grabbed Kacchan’s hand and stepped between them. She turned her head and made eye contact with Izuku, glossy pink lips slyly curled upwards at their edges.
She was definitely up to something.
Izuku dropped his hand to his side, his cheeks flushed bright pink. He rubbed the back of his neck and stepped away from the two of them. Before Kacchan could object, Ochako whisked him toward the other side of the dance floor, deciding for the both of them that she would be the one to lead. As she spun, Izuku made eye contact with her. Ochako flashed him a wink, and noticably nudged her head to her left.
Izuku turned his head to look but there was nothing to note. Most of his other friends had already found other partners.
Diagonally across the floor, Iida did some sort of stiff robot-looking dance with Sero. Next to them, Tsu, Momo, and Touru formed a small dance circle that he probably could ask to join, but decided against it.
Instead, he walked toward the corner of the room where Todoroki and Tokoyami were talking between two tables of sweets. Izuku had spent so much of his night with Kacchan that he hadn’t had a chance to talk to his friends yet. Maybe that was what he needed to stop himself from feeling so on edge.
On his way there he bumped into someone, his shoulder sharply jabbing them in the chest.
"Sorry! I really need to pay more attention to where I'm going. Are you okay?" As Izuku looked up, tension that he didn't even realize he had in his shoulders dissipated. His arms, which were in an instinctual pseudo T-rex position, fell to his side. A cool sensation washed over Izuku’s skin like the small frozen cubes of fruit jelly his mother used to give him during the summers of his childhood, calming, yet distant. He’d bumped into Shinsou.
“What are you doing here? I thought you said you weren’t coming.” The words tumbled out before Izuku realized he was talking.
“I came with Denki,” Shinsou said. He pointed his thumb over to his left where Kaminari spun across the dance floor hand in hand with Kirishima at a speed that couldn't be safe. They crashed straight into Ochako and Kacchan, the four of them crumpled into a pile on the floor. Izuku winced and forced his gaze away from that dumpster fire. He could already hear Kacchan’s screams over the deafening music.
“Apparently Jiro finally confessed her feelings to Momo and they ended up going together." Shinsou continued. "And since we weren’t going together anymore and I already paid for my ticket, I let him drag me here.”
“Oh, good for them, I’m glad they were able to figure it out.” Jiro and Momo had been in a stalemate of lesbian yearning for a while now. Izuku didn’t quite know when it started, but by the start of their second year, it seemed like everyone knew about their feelings except for Jiro and Momo.
“Yeah, I think the entire Bakusquad was getting tired of the amount of gay pinning.”
Izuku awkwardly laughed. He felt stiff, almost frozen in place under Shinsou’s lax gaze. It was as if their earlier argument hadn’t affected him at all.
“Nice flower, by the way. Did he give it to you?”
Maybe Izuku assumed too soon. He plucked the camelia up out of his pocket and twirled it in his fingers, careful not to crush the delicate petals.
“Oh, um yeah,” Izuku said, decidedly not making eye contact with Shinsou. “The color’s nice. I like the more orange-toned red.”
As he put the flower back, Shinsou grabbed his shoulders and pushed Izuku to the right. Ojiro narrowly missed hitting him in the head with his tail from where he danced with Koda.
"Oh! Sorry Midoriya!" he shouted. They shuffled away, slowly disappearing into the crowd.
"Thank you Shinsou, that was a close one," Izuku said. He glanced behind him. There was still a good three meters between them and the dance floor's nearest edge. They were in the way.
“Do you–” Izuku said at the same time Shinsou said “I think we’re–” They both stopped, waiting for the other to speak.
Seconds passed agonizingly slow. Part of him wished a sinkhole would open up under his feet and he'd fall through the Earth. He could climb out of a sinkhole. He'd even activate Float right before he hit the bottom so he wouldn't break his legs.
Shinsou sighed and said, “Do you just want to dance? I think there’s only half a song left.”
“Sure."
Dancing with Shinsou was… awkward to say the least. Neither of them quite knew where to position themself in relation to the other. Nor did they know how their bodies were supposed to move.
Shinsou wedged his fingers stiffly between Izuku's, his bony knuckles dug into Izuku's flesh. It wasn't necessarily painful, but it was still uncomfortable enough to be noticeable. Not that he really minded. Izuku's forearm rested on Shinsou's shoulder, his hand hanging limply off his back. Shinsou lightly wrapped his hand around Izuku's waist. Delicate, as if Izuku would shatter if he held him too tightly. They stood like that, swaying back and forth for the rest of the song. And for the song after that. And the next.
Even after people broke apart and migrated from the dance floor, talking and mingling, they never broke their position. As if they were stuck in a trance.
Something buzzed beneath Izuku's skin, a growing tingle like static electricity. Without realizing it, his lips curled into a shaking smile. Laughter bubbled up in his stomach, threatening to burst. He felt lighter, almost weightless. Like Ochako hit him with her anti-gravity quirk without him knowing. Like he was about to float away.
But Ochako hadn't hit him with her quirk. His feet were clearly planted on the ground. How much time had passed? How much longer were they going to stay like this? Not that he minded. He wouldn’t mind if he stayed with Shinsou the entire night.
The giddy pressure fizzed out, expanding throughout his entire body like cold, flat, dread. It ate its way through his throat, pressing up against his skin and oozing out of his pores. As much as he wished this moment would last forever, he knew it wouldn't. Sooner or later, Izuku would do or say something that would ruin it. Just like he did that afternoon. Just like what happened with Kacchan when they were five. Just like he'll continue to do until the end of time.
“I’m sorry again for earlier.” Izuku said, eyes fixated on the mint green bow tie peaking out behind Shinsou's dark purple collar. “I really should’ve been paying attention to the time and–”
“It’s fine.” Shinsou cut him off. “We already had this conversation. Were you even listening? If it was once or twice, I’d understand, but this happens every single time Bakugou asks for a favor. And for what? He still treats you just as horribly as he treats everyone else. He only ever contacts you to go to the gym with him. And most of the time that's only because Kirishima is too busy to spot him. You prioritize Bakugou over everyone else in your life." Izuku followed Shinsou's gaze down the the flower innocently sitting in his chest pocket. "You've clearly made your choice."
“Shinsou–”
Shinsou let go of Izuku’s hand and let go of his waist. Izuku's hip suddenly felt cold. "It was nice seeing you tonight. I think Monoma is calling me." He turned around and walked off, disappearing into a freshly formed mass of people behind him.
Izuku drew a shaky breath. Shinsou's words repeated in his head over and over and over again. All the moments he'd had with Shinsou swirled together in his mind like soup; swinging together on the swings at the old playground by his mother's house; trying limited edition desserts at a cafe a few minutes from school; watching cats climb onto Shinsou's lap at the cat cafe– he'd gone there so often the staff knew him by name; melting ice cream under the sweltering heat of summer; stargazing on a picnic blanket as summer gave way to fall. All things he wished he could do with Kacchan. All things he slowly realized he could never do with Kacchan. Not after everything that happened. Not after everything he did.
He quickly scanned the ballroom. Kacchan had to be there somewhere; they hadn't been separated for that long…. There!
In the corner of the room by the drink table, Kacchan talked to Kirishima. There was a softness to his scowl that Izuku had only seen a few times before. Kacchan's arms crossed over his chest and Kirishima's arm slung over his shoulder. In all his years of knowing Kacchan, Kirishima was the only one Kacchan allowed to freely touch him. Even Izuku wouldn't dare to inch too close. He knew what happened to people who didn't respect Kacchan's personal space. Yet, Izuku was never jealous of Kirishima. He was, Kacchan's real best friend after all. And Izuku couldn't imagine anyone actually having it in them to be jealous of Kirishima. He was just that great of a guy.
Izuku headed toward Kacchan, his legs moving on their own. His eyes narrowed, locking onto their target as everything else blurred around him. He'd have to thank Shinsou later. There would be plenty of time to talk to Shinsou after he finished what he needed to.
"Hey, Kacchan, can we talk for a minute? Um… alone. Sorry, Kirishima.”
Kirishima laughed and said, "Of course, Midoribro, he's all yours." He slapped Kacchan on the back and lightly pushed him toward Izuku.
"Shut up," Kacchan grumbled and roughly shoved Kirishima's shoulders, though there was no real malice behind it. Kirishima responded with a wink as Izuku led Kacchan across the ballroom toward the staircase. They climbed the steps in awkward silence and stopped at the top by the entrance. The dance was about halfway done, and there weren't many people coming late or leaving early. This was about as much privacy as they were going to get.
As he gathered the right words to say, Izuku noticed little details he hadn't seen when they'd entered. The pillars weren’t made of real marble, just plastic casting. The golden decorations were plated, the metal underneath rusting in places where it had peeled off. Dark black stains dotted the corners of the wallpaper where the baseboard met the floor. Izuku took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak.
Kacchan cut him off. Typical.
"I already know what you’re going to say.”
Izuku closed his mouth and then opened it again. His eyebrows furrowed, confused.
“W… What?”
“Eyebags kid. You like him, right? Round Face told me everything while we were dancing. Honestly, I’m fucking glad you finally moved on. Do you know how annoying it is for you to keep following me around like some kind of fucking shadow? First in elementary school, then middle school. Even when I bullied you and shit, I could still see your stupid buggy little eyes watching me. And then you'd mumble some shit I couldn't understand and scribble in your stupid notebook. You even followed me to high school. It’s fucking weird and creepy.”
Kacchan tucked his hands in his pockets and sighed. Then, he did the unthinkable: he smiled.
“I’m not fucking stupid, Deku. I know things. I can fucking see that you like that fucking shitty extra. No fucking clue what you see in him but good for you I guess. Go be your own person and leave me the fuck out of it.”
Izuku teared up. He’d always been one for tears, but these ones felt different. Years of pent up longing and yearning and pain and regret and fear all bubbled to the surface finally able to be released. A weight that had locked his heart up tight dissipated and for the first time in his life Izuku felt… free.
Izuku hugged him, his face pressed into Kacchan’s chest.
“Oi! Why the fuck are you crying now? Get the fuck off me you’re getting all your snot and shit on my shirt and it's fucking gross.
Kacchan pushed his shoulders, miniature explosions bursting from his fingertips. Izuku only held him tighter. Besides, Izuku had felt the full force of Kacchan’s explosions so many times in the past, he barely felt the little pops singe his shirt.
Eventually, Kacchan gave up and let Izuku hold him tight. They stayed like that for three songs. They must have looked ridiculous, hugging at the top of the stairs, but neither one of them found it in themselves to care.
Izuku wiped his tears away and whispered “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” over and over and over again.
Kacchan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah sure, whatever, Deku.”
"I do still love you, Kacchan," Izuku said, smiling into Kacchan's tear-stained shirt. "Just not in the way that I used to." He gave Kacchan one last squeeze and kissed his cheek. His lips lingered on Kacchan's skin for just a moment before he wiped his red-rimmed eyes one more time and ran back down the stairs. He immediately spotted Shinsou on the dance floor and ran toward him, weaving in and out of the other people in the crowd.
"Do you want to go out with me?" Izuku blurted out the minute he reached him.
Shinsou blinked. "What?"
Words tumbled out almost faster than Izuku could speak. His mind raced a thousand miles a minute, his heart faster than the speed of light. "I thought about what you said about Kac… Katsuki." K… Katsuki's first name felt foreign on his tongue. "And I reevaluated my feelings about him and my feelings for you and I realized my feelings for Kach—Katsuki aren't like they used to be. Of course, he'll always be someone special to me but I could never… I… I like you a lot, Shinsou, and I think you like me too? I mean… I…" Izuku started to trip over his words. He was rambling again. He needed to stop doing that. He just… he just needed to come right out and say it.
"So, do you want to go out with me?" Izuku asked again.
A moment passed, and then another. Each second brought another ounce of dread pooling in the bottom of Izuku's gut. He couldn't stop the 'what if's' from forming inside his brain. Shinsou blinked agonizingly slow and sighed.
"Are you free next Saturday?"
Izuku giggled and wrapped his arms around Shinsou, rested his chin on his shoulder and said, "Yes!"