Work Text:
Once the final class of the day comes to an end, Shouto gathers and packs up his things. He carefully places each notebook into his backpack, giving extra care to one in specific; the one that Izuku had lent him.
It was Izuku’s twelfth. Being made all the way back in the first year of junior high, it had a characteristic neuroticism to it that he could still observe in Izuku today, if only in flashes. Along with that, there were many of his old ramblings to be found in it, which proved to be just as endearing as when Izuku rambled these days.
What he had found to be the most peculiar thing about the book, though, was the slight charring on a chunk of the pages, including the cover. He had noticed it on some of the other notebooks in Izuku’s dorm too, which went up until edition sixteen. He had wanted to ask him about it on multiple occasions, but before he really could Izuku steered straight into the next topic of conversation.
He is still curious; the desire to know bubbling underneath the surface, but not quite enough for him to push any further. He can understand not wanting to talk about certain things, and pressuring Izuku is the last thing he wants to do. So, he settles on gazing at and wondering about it.
Either way, he is going to return this edition today and ask for the next. Izuku had told him that he’d be getting fifteen next; apparently thirteen is in really bad condition, and fourteen has some ‘unsavory’ things in it. Izuku had told him that he’d want to be there while he read that one, just to explain himself. Much like the burn marks, this had left him curious, and just like the burn marks, he had pushed no further.
As he walks down the hall, he sees a few of his classmates still loitering around or making their ways back to the dormitory. In the nearly two years of attending this school, he’s made friends with some of his classmates – with the encouragement of Izuku – but still, it often feels like there’s a barrier between himself and all of them. None of them seem to acknowledge it, but he can feel that it’s there, ever imposing.
Maybe that’s a bit sad, but it doesn’t bother him. Not when he has Izuku.
It doesn’t take long to get to the support department, and as he slides open the door and peers inside the workroom he has frequented time and time again, he finds a similar sight to what he has come to expect.
Izuku is hard at work on some gear. If he’s remembering correctly, he is doing some upgrades for Iida’s costume. Notebooks are scattered along the table where he is intently studying a piece of silver armour, with other pieces sat nearby. His phone sits at a table a few steps away, and his soundproof headphones are around his ears. Although concentrated, his head does bop up and down to whatever music he’s listening to.
All in all, the scene is entirely too cute.
Shouto stands in the doorway for a few moments. He never dares to interrupt Izuku’s work, especially when it means he gets to observe him working. It really is a sight to see – Izuku can focus on things so intensely, in a way that is beyond his comprehension. After a minute or two, when it becomes clear that Izuku isn’t going to realize he’s here, he decides to enter the room and do a quick walk around while he works.
As he walks around, he sees the things in the room that belong to other support students, as well as miscellaneous gadgets and tools that seem to find their way in but never back out. He’s pretty sure the odd looking wrench on the floor in the corner has been there since last year.
What must it be like, working in the support department? he wonders. Izuku has told him plenty, of course, but being told and experiencing are two different things. Although he has some understanding of what goes into it, it would be incorrect to call him an expert of any sort.
He’s never really thought of pursuing anything other than on the field heroics; partly because he didn’t have a choice for the majority of his life, and partly because it is the one thing he has always wanted to do. Nothing else really ever crossed his mind before.
But then again, could he really say that that desire comes from an unobstructed origin? If this is all he had ever known, could he really say that it is an informed choice, or even an accurate representation of what he wants?
He shakes off the thought. What use is it to be wondering about it now? Besides, he’s rather certain that heroics would be his field of choice regardless of whether he sees any other options.
Free from the lag that the thinking had caused him, he rounds the room in no time. Izuku is still occupied, seemingly confused by something, so he lets him be for a little while longer. He situates himself at a table nearby, so he can admire the way Izuku’s expressions shift and his arms flex; but at the table he notices another of Izuku’s notebooks.
Curious, he glances at the open page. It held a diagram of Shouto’s hero suit, with detailed writings that filled nearly every blank space.
Shouto casually scoops up the book, and reads further. As he flips through the pages, he notices that every single one is dedicated entirely to him. From notes on his suit, to notes about his quirk, to–
Two pages had sketches of him. Nothing related to heroics – just drawings. Rather good drawings, too. One was of him using his quirk, another of him sleeping, and another of him smiling. He feels his face heat, and the warmth only escalates when he sees his name written in different fonts with hearts all around.
Just as he reads the words, “Midoriya Shouto” written in the corner, he hears Izuku clear his throat. Eyes a bit wide, he snaps the notebook close and regards Izuku.
“Hi,” Shouto says, somewhat dumbfounded.
Izuku looks exhausted, which he gathers from his posture. And the bags around his eyes, instead of the currently wide state of them.
“Hi,” Izuku responds, a little higher pitched than usual.
They stand in silence for a moment. Shouto shifts, setting down the notebook on the table behind him but still resting his hand upon it.
“I’m, uh–”
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says. “I noticed you were in here a few minutes ago, but I was struggling on something and I knew if I engaged with you I’d lose my train of thought, which is not to say you’re distracting! Well, distractingly pretty yes, but that’s not the point – and, ah, I probably shouldn’t have left that out!” Izuku says, volume rising as he continues.
Shouto blinks. It takes a second for him to really process what Izuku said, but once he does, he relaxes.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry I went through it without asking you,” Shouto murmurs, eyes averted.
“It’s fine! Just very embarrassing for me.”
Shouto looks back at Izuku, who is now hiding his face in his hands. He steps forward, and takes Izuku’s hands, moving them down and holding them lovingly. His heart squeezes when Izuku looks up at him.
“If it helps, I like them. The drawings,” Shouto says, lifting Izuku’s right hand and pressing a kiss to it.
Izuku smiles lopsidedly, and kisses him. It starts out as one, and then one becomes two, and then two becomes five and before he knows it his lower back is against the table and Izuku’s hand holds a strong presence in his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.
Eventually they break apart, and although he instantly misses the warm press of Izuku’s body against his, he doesn’t mind the gaze that they share for a few seconds before Izuku grabs his hand and drags him off to a cleaner, more open part of the room where he lies down and pulls Shouto to do the same.
Here, there are mostly papers filled with plans and schematics, and the artificial lights of the rest of the room cease to exist. The only light is from the mid afternoon sun streaming through the windows, highlighting Izuku’s skin gorgeously and bouncing off his hair in ways you’d think could only exist in paintings.
I love you, Shouto thinks, but does not say aloud if only so the comfortable silence could persist a while longer. The world is often so bleak and uncontained, which makes moments like this all the more special. Moments untainted by the struggles and fears and pain – just him and someone he loves next to him, together in peace.
His teeth clench when he thinks of how long, how many times moments like this were robbed from him.
He has missed this, and so much more, and there was nothing he could do to get those hypothetical times back. It’s a collection of memories he’s had to start almost completely from scratch, after about a decade-long hiatus.
Inwardly, he sighs and tries to keep himself from becoming too pensive. He glances back over at Izuku, who seems lost in thought. He wonders what he’s thinking of. It’s hard not to wonder about what’s going on in Izuku’s head.
Izuku’s eyes are so lidded they’re practically closed. For a second he thinks Izuku has fallen asleep, but his eyes open just a bit wider every now and again. He wouldn’t blame Izuku if he did fall asleep – he’s feeling tired himself, and the atmosphere here is practically a blanket, comfortable and warm. Not to mention, Izuku looked especially tired just earlier at the table, and that same air of exhaustion has yet to dissipate.
At some point, Izuku turns to him and opens his mouth to say something. He closes it, then opens it again a few seconds later, then closes it once more. Eventually, Izuku shuffles closer and then props himself up. He looks into his eyes for a moment, and he does the same, before Izuku kisses him.
They keep the same leisurely pace, even as the kissing devolves into open mouthed, tongue and teeth kissing. Although Izuku does end up halfway on top of him after feeling the fatigue of holding himself up. And honestly, he wouldn’t mind making out on the floor for the remainder of their time here, but Izuku abruptly stops, but not before leaving a peck on his nose.
Izuku lays on his chest for a few seconds, breathing heavily in a manner that matches his own. He rubs Izuku’s back slowly, pleased when he relaxes into him.
“Are you okay?” Shouto asks, because the sudden stop is somewhat worrying.
Izuku remains silent. Shouto is about to ask again, but Izuku beats him to the chase.
“Just a second,” Izuku finally says, getting up and walking back over to where he had been working. Shouto props himself up and sees Izuku rummaging through his own backpack, his assorted hero keychains jingling as he does so.
He apparently finds what he’s looking for, as he zips the bag back up and walks over with what appears to be one of his old notebooks in hand.
Izuku settles back down next to him, his eyes focused on the notebook. He remains still, as does Izuku. He soon hears and sees the beginnings of rain outside, a soft pitter patter reverberating through the room and clouds that dim the warm colored hues of light entering through the window.
Izuku sighs. “I…”
He waits for Izuku to continue, but Izuku makes no further attempts to talk. Instead, he wordlessly hands the notebook to him.
Shouto carefully accepts it, sitting up now, and inspects the cover. It is one of Izuku’s old notebooks, as he gathers by the branding and number near the middle; although, it’s devoid of the trademark “Hero Analysis for the Future” written on it. More specifically, this one is his fourteenth notebook – the one Izuku said he wanted to explain.
He also notices that it has a distinct lack of charring or burn marks, or even the typical wear-and-tear of a used notebook. Its condition is near pristine, even, and he runs his finger along it to find only the faintest hints of dents or folds. The most notable flaw is the slight crease on the spine, the only thing proving that this notebook has been utilized before.
He looks up to find Izuku’s eyes fixed on the floor, playing with his fingers and worrying his bottom lip. He seems anxious, but does not attempt to do anything else.
Shouto looks back at the notebook. Does he want him to read it?
With another quick glance back at Izuku, he gently opens to the first page.
It’s blank.
He looks back to Izuku again. He’s looking at the notebook expectantly, so he returns his gaze and flips to the next few pages.
It isn’t until page thirty or so that things start to pop up. At first, it’s writings; what look like journal entries. He pauses at the first, and reads the clean scripture.
‘The other day, Kacchan told me to “take a nosedive off a roof”. The same day I’m left on the roof by…’
“You can skip that part. All the writing, I mean,” Izuku says, sounding even more exhausted than he did earlier. “That’s an explanation for another day. Plus, those entries are hard to read for a lot of reasons.”
He complies, even though he’s left with what seems like a thousand questions running through his mind. Once the writings start to become scarce, they’re replaced with drawings.
The drawings are normal, not much different from the ones that could be found in any other of Izuku’s notebooks. Slowly, however, they took a far more… graphic turn. Nothing absolutely abhorrent, but there’s a clear shift – where the notes in the blank spaces highlight the numbers of civilians killed by the heroes, drawings of villains winning famous battles, depictions of death and suicide and–
Deep into the book, there’s a drawing that takes up two pages. A drawing of Yuuei exploding, a concoction of smoke and flames and debris in a highly detailed, fully colored portrait.
Shouto turned his head back to Izuku, questions in his eyes and on his tongue, but Izuku speaks before he can.
“The drawings are a bit crude, and also a little childish in my opinion – but I guess in my defense I was going through some bad times.”
Izuku sighs. The rain steadily beats down outside.
“Can I ask why?”
Izuku looks at him. “Why what?”
“Why you drew all this,” Shouto asks. “You said bad times… what were those bad times? How did they result in this?”
Izuku rests his head against Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto indulges him, wrapping his arm around his figure. They stay in silence for a few seconds. He can feel Izuku’s heartbeat.
“Just… something happened. And afterwards, I became a little disillusioned with heroes. So much so I just kinda had to get it all out somehow, you know?”
He remains silent, but nods.
“You know, I don’t hate this drawing all that much,” Izuku says, tracing his fingers over the first page. “Even though it’s extreme, I don’t completely disagree with all the thoughts and ideas I had. Sometimes I think it would be a good thing if this school was destroyed.”
Shouto’s eyes grew wide. Izuku has always been the number one fan of heroes, of this school – he knows nearly all there is to know on both subject matters. How come he’s saying all this? Even moreso, how could he ever believe such a thing in general?
Izuku looks up, and must’ve seen the expression on his face because he moves back, his own expression a little fearful, but harbouring the same confidence he has grown and dedicated to what he is passionate about. It’s one of the many traits that made Shouto fall in love with him.
“Let me explain,” Izuku says, a little pleadingly. “First off, how old are all the students in this school? Somewhere between fifteen and eighteen, right?”
“Right,” Shouto agrees, not quite understanding where Izuku is going with this.
“I don’t think that engaging students of this age with on-the-field combat with actual villains, where people actually die, is a very good idea. I don’t think it’s right that the hero course students are made to experience such things.”
“But we’re going to experience those same things at one point or another when we do become pro heroes,” Shouto argues. “And there’s plenty of terrible things that people have to experience at random anyway, and without the proper training to deal with it.”
“That’s true,” Izuku says. “But don’t you think that you shouldn’t have to? At the very least, not this young? Some of the cases you guys get put on… all the violence you have to deal with… is there even guidance on how to deal with all of that beyond what’s necessary to continue the mission?”
Shouto stays silent. He can understand what Izuku’s saying, but…
“And that leads me to my next point. Don’t you think that the structure of heroism in general is really janky?”
Shouto tilts his head. “Explain.”
“Well, the main thing keeping it together is the hero commission, and it doesn’t take much digging to find things that don’t add up. And that’s not even touching on the more blatant examples of corruption. Not to mention, there’s plenty of ways for heroes that aren’t exactly pure of intention to become revered pros.” Izuku pauses, scratching the back of his head. “I’m trying not to sound like Stain here, but I think I’m failing.”
Shouto’s lips briefly quirk into a smile at that. He mulls over what Izuku’s saying, and he can find things to agree with; but he still doesn’t subscribe to the ideas Izuku is presenting. It’s complicated – sure, the system isn’t all good, but it’s not all bad either.
He feels Izuku take his hand and hold it in his own. He looks over to find a tense look on his face.
“I’m sorry if this isn’t my place, but…”
Izuku stops. After a silent breath in and out, he continues.
“The whole thing with your dad. And Dabi– Touya– whichever. How come he’s able to remain a pro hero, without any repercussions, even after everything he did was revealed? How come he was able to get away with it in the first place?”
Shouto’s lips form into a thin line. This isn’t the most comfortable topic, but he wants his thoughts to be clear. “Despite what he’s done to my family, he’s still a good hero. He’s saved a lot of lives and continues to do so.”
“But what he did to you and your family shouldn’t just be pushed under the rug, should it?” Izuku brings his hand closer to himself. “It shouldn’t just be an added on ‘yikes’ when talking about him.”
“What he did isn’t… it’s not–” Shouto lets out a mildly frustrated sigh. “Didn’t you say earlier that public opinion shouldn’t matter?”
“It’s not about that.”
“Then what is it about, Izuku?” Shouto asks sharply, pulling his hand out of Izuku’s grasp. Is he seriously using this as just another reason why heroes are bad?
“It’s about the fact that he hurt you and your family and no one will acknowledge it or hold him responsible or anything . It’s about all the pain you’ve gone through, all the crying and injuries and time lost that you’ll never get back and–”
“I know I’ll never get it back!” He knows all too well; it's a fact of his life written into every scar from every training. A quiet void in every interaction with his family. The root of his shameful lack of knowledge in how to do anything remotely social. “I know exactly what he did. I don’t see why it matters, because like I said before–”
“Because you matter!” Izuku cries out suddenly, a contrast to the low volume they held before. “What happened to you matters. Even if you don’t think it does! And just because he’s good at his job, doesn’t mean that he should be free of punishment or consequence for committing crimes. Especially when his whole job is based around stopping crime.”
Shouto averts his eyes, and curls in on himself, arms resting on the top of his knees. Neither of them say anything. The rain had changed from a steady beat to a pounding onslaught punctuated by the deep bass of thunder, and there is next to no natural light left in the room besides the occasional flash of lightning.
He sees what Izuku is saying. Hell, he agrees with a lot of it. Much like the intricacies of heroism, though, the intricacies of his family are complicated – and personal on top of that.
Sometimes, he’d prefer if everyone would just forget all about it. Sometimes he wishes he could forget.
“I’m sorry.”
He looks over at Izuku, who maintains his distance but gazes at him genuinely.
“I… I overstepped. And however you feel about it is far more important than my own feelings.” Izuku scoots closer, but still does not touch him.
They remain like that for a while. He watches Izuku trace random shapes on the floor with his finger, but says nothing. It isn’t until the rain returns to a moderate pulse that the silence is broken.
“Thanks,” Shouto murmurs.
Izuku smiles in the most heartfelt way. Shouto scoots closer to him, uncurling himself a little, but they still do not touch. A little more time passses before they converse again.
“I don’t disagree with you. Not completely, anyway,” Shouto says, quietly. “But I still don’t understand why having the school destroyed would be a positive for you. Surely there are other things that would be better?”
Izuku glances over to him. “Lie down with me?”
Shouto searches his eyes for a moment. He nods, and lies back, Izuku following in tandem.
“I just want you to close your eyes and imagine with me for a little while, if that’s okay?”
Shouto follows Izuku’s request, closing his eyes. He breathes in and out, relaxing into this position.
“Okay. Initially I was going to go with bombs, but considering your quirk, fire could work too for this.”
Shouto cracks an eye open. “Are you planning for us to burn the school down?” he asks, a bit concerned both for Izuku and at the fact that if Izuku asks him to do so with him, his answer wouldn’t be a no that is quite as immediate as he’d like.
“No! No– just a fantasy. Silly, mildly violent, strangely relieving. I was just spitballing there.”
Shouto closes his eye again. “If you say so.”
“Okay. Just imagine Yuuei. Think of what it stands for. Think of the ways that it’s connected to hero society, and think of the ways it’s connected to you.”
Shouto thinks. Yuuei leads directly into the heroics field, whether as a pro or a support member or a PR member. A field managed by the hero commission, who aren’t exactly the epitome of what heroism should be, nor the best upholders of those ideals. He thinks about the incredible training, education, and resources Yuuei provides – and all the little cracks in security and safety.
He thinks of what Yuuei means to him. It is the doorway to his future; one imposed on him by his father, but also one that he chose, in some sense. It is where he went to become everything his father wanted him to be, where he became what he wanted himself to be, and where he is achieving everything Touya should’ve had the chance to.
“Now imagine the school blowing up, or burning, or whatever else. Imagine less what the physical destruction would be like, but more so the impact. The symbolism. What it would mean for this school to be in ruin.”
It would be a disaster, most realistically. The biggest news of the week, month, possibly even year. It would make people think that there was some sort of insecurity, some sort of flaw that caused it. Maybe a villain snuck in and did it. Maybe the building did it on its own, through some sort of mismanagement – unlikely, but still a theory that could pop up. It would leave so many devastated.
Despite this, would it even be a wake-up call? Would there be any change after the explosion, after all the debris has fallen and the ashes coat it in thick, heavy layers? Would the deaths of students and staff be remembered, but never evaluated for what could’ve prevented them?
“Now I want you to imagine,” Izuku says, his tone low, “Everything exploding. The hero commission. Hero highschools and training and the entirety of heroism as an industry.”
Such a thing could only lead to chaos. A state of entropy, a time of uncertainty. But even with that, the idea leaves a deep-rooted relief underneath all the fear and wariness about what would be to come, because at least there would be no more evil in the system that’s meant to promote good. Even if the only reason for that is the system being abolished.
“I think I understand what you mean,” Shouto says, eyes still closed. There is a morbid sort of catharsis that comes with the concept, some sort of path with so much potential. It’s terrifying, yet also oddly invigorating. At least for him. He still wonders what exactly it is that Izuku sees in his head, as he always has.
He feels Izuku’s hand bump his, and he smiles. “But…” Shouto continues, opening his eyes and turning on his side to face Izuku. “Do you not love heroes and heroism? Everytime you talk about it you seem so… starstruck. And happy.” Shouto pauses for a moment. “I just don’t understand.”
A part in the back of his mind worries that Izuku views him differently than he thought. Despite their time today, he still wants to be a hero. Somehow, through all the questioning of what that would entail, he feels all the more resolute in his choice; if a bit more skeptical of the future. After all, how could there be change if no one tries?
He wants to be a hero, and a good one – one that makes people feel safe when he arrives. Now he just has another thing to add to his list – to be a hero that lives up to what all heroes should be.
“I have no issue with the concept,” Izuku responds, sincerely. “Honestly, I can't help but love heroes.”
Izuku gave out a shallow chuckle. His hand moves to caress Shouto's face, his thumb lightly running back and forth over his scar. Izuku smiles softly, and Shouto feels his breath catch. “I can't help but love you. It’s just… I don’t know.” Izuku moves to cuddle into his side. “Society sucks. Life sucks.”
“Not all the time,” Shouto protests. “Concerning life, at least. It doesn’t suck right now. It doesn’t suck when I’m with you.”
Izuku laughs. It’s tired, maybe a little wet, but it’s everything to him. The rain had ceased a little while ago, leaving a warm, if a little dim glow in its wake that fills the room and holds everything in its steady grasp. He holds Izuku close and plays with his hair for what seems like hours, but is most likely only a few minutes.
Eventually, he hears the small snores and feels the even rise and fall of Izuku’s chest. The floor is cool, contrasting the heat from the setting sun, and he almost wants to close his eyes and drift off himself. However, he can resist the alluring lull of sleep for a while longer, if only so he could make this moment last for a little more time.
Either way, if Izuku doesn’t wake up soon, he’d be much more than happy to carry him to his dorm room and allow him to rest. Right now, nothing could make him happier.