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Izuku leaned over his bathroom counter, practically an inch from the mirror as he scrutinized his own hair.
It was getting gratuitously long—to the point where he could put it in a little ponytail if he wanted to. It kind of reminded him of Mr. Aizawa, in a way.
Between becoming a vigilante and having mildly traumatizing experiences regarding villany, he just hasn’t had the time to get a proper haircut, apparently. He remembers when his mom used to sit him down and trim his hair every once in a while, but ever since he moved into the dorms he hasn’t been seeing her as much lately. It made him sad to think about.
Leaning away from his mirror with a disgruntled sigh, Izuku trudged his way out of his bathroom and out onto his balcony. He needed some fresh air.
Sliding the balcony door shut so his room wouldn’t get any colder than it already was, Izuku rested his arms against the railing. The only thing he could really see through the darkness of the night were trees, but he still stared intently at them as he thought. If trees had eyes, they’d probably be terrified of him right about now.
It had been a few days since he was brought back to U.A. after his… vigilantism escapade, and he had been feeling better, physically and mentally (who knew that getting good amounts of rest and care would be good for you?) but lately he’s been worried about what the future holds.
At the end of the day, he’ll still have to face off against All For One—and not to mention the fact that the League of Villains are still out there somewhere—and he’d have to win. Not just for his sake, but for the sake of Japan—no, the whole world.
As much as the thought scared him, it also filled him with determination. All Might's words flooded in his head, as they have done many times before.
Young man, you too can become a hero.
He sighs, half-smiling at the memory, looking up at the night sky to see—
“Wha—Kacchan?!”
There, looking down at him with eyes that seem to be both vibrant and yet too dull all at once, is Kacchan. Who knows how long he’s been standing there, looking at him.
“ Pipe down, nerd!” Kacchan exclaims—just as loudly, might he add—putting a finger over his mouth, yet smirking nonetheless. For reasons that could only be chalked up to rampant teenage hormones, the simple action makes Izuku’s stomach twist and his heart speed up.
Jeez, Izuku. Pull yourself together.
“How long have you been standing out here?” Izuku asks instead of mentioning how Kacchan just might need to cut that stupid mouth of his off for Izuku’s sake.
Kacchan just shrugs. “Way longer than you have, nerd. Grab on.” Kacchan leaned over the railing slightly, letting out a hand.
A dangerously explosive hand that Izuku was more than willing to take.
After trial and error, Izuku managed to steadily stand on his own railing, reaching up and trying once, twice, three times before finally managing to grasp Kacchans hand.
After being initially hoisted up, Izuku put one of his knees on the edge of the balcony, working from there until he was able to climb up and onto Kacchans balcony. He let out a huff, blowing a stray hair from his face.
Kacchan was staring at him again. He must’ve noticed how long his hair was getting, too.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Izuku asked half-jokingly. Kacchan only huffed and looked back down the balcony in response, his cheeks tinged pink.
After a moment, Kacchan responded. “Penny for your thoughts?” Kacchan shot back. It had a sarcastic edge to it, but no real malice—an attempt to avoid the original question, maybe.
Huffing out a small chuckle, Izuku walked towards Kacchan and stood right beside him. “Hm, I was thinking about how much I needed a haircut… my hairs been getting so long, don’t you think?”
Kacchan turned his gaze away from the ground below and onto Izuku. Izuku simultaneously despised the attention and relished in it. “Mm, yeah. You’re gonna start looking like Mr. Aizawa soon.”
That drove a laugh out of Izuku, partly because it was true and partly because anything Kacchan said could make him giggle like a child. “You know, I was thinking the same thing. Maybe we’re one in the same, Kacchan.”
“Hush it, Izuku,” Kacchan muttered, though still kept his eyes on him. Izuku stared right back.
Looking at Kacchan this close made him notice all the small details he thought he had forgotten—the little bump on his nose, his extra row of lashes, his adam's apple—and maybe, just for a little bit, he could imagine that Kacchan was doing the same whenever he looked at him for a second too long. Maybe he was counting how many freckles he had, or analyzing the tiny, barely visible scar on the far left corner of his mouth.
Relievingly and heartbreakingly, Kacchan looked away, walking towards his balcony door after a few seconds and sliding it open. He looked at Izuku once more, beckoning him inside. “C’mon, idiot. I’ve got an idea.”
Kacchan’s room was… relatively normal looking. He’s not sure what he was expecting, considering he’s never actually been inside, but compared to some of his classmates' rooms, it’s average. Overly clean, but average.
He had a singular All Might poster on the wall by his bed, and his desk was considerably more disorganized than the rest of the room. Other than that, the only way to know that this place was lived in was if you looked for the small details, like the small clock by his bed that emitted a dull red light, or the reading glasses on his desk placed on top of a bulky book.
“Oi! Quit ogling at my room and close the damn door!”
Stammering out a quick “Ah—right!” Izuku quickly slides the glass door shut with slightly more force than was needed. Well, there were no visible cracks, so it was fine.
Kacchan was busy looking around in his desk drawers for… something… when Izuku looked back at him.
“What are you looking for?”
“Scissors,” Kacchan said curtly.
Izuku quickly put two and two together and immediately started to backtrack. “Wait, hold on—Kacchan, you really don’t need to—”
Kacchan pulled out a pair of hair shears (Izuku wasn’t going to bother questioning why he had those in the first place) and pointed them at Izuku as if they were a weapon, hands on his hips. “Shut it, De—Izuku. You need a haircut, so you’re getting a damn haircut.”
Not bothering to argue, Izuku let out an exasperated sigh as Kacchan moved towards his dresser, presumably to look for an old t-shirt to drape over Izuku’s shoulders—muttering something along the lines of, “damn nerd and his damn hair…” as he did so.
Izuku eventually found himself sitting on Kacchan's floor, the man in question having settled on his bed, legs crossed, adjusting a worn-out looking All Might shirt around Izuku’s shoulders.
“Don’t say a word.”
Izuku doesn’t know if he’s talking about the shirt or the fact that he’s doing this in the first place, but he’s beginning to become too tired to ask.
The feeling of Kacchan's hands in his hair in order to steady his head feels good. Too good. He almost leans into it, until the sound of scissors snipping reminds him that Kacchan's only this close for one reason.
“Kacchan, did your mom ever cut your hair?” Izuku asks—considerably quieter than before—in a futile attempt to distract himself from the pit sinking deep in his chest.
Kacchan grunts. “The hag never did, but my old man has once or twice. I always wanted to do it myself, though.”
Humming, Izuku commented, “So that’s why you’re so good at this kinda stuff… Kacchan’s a man of many talents.”
Kacchan tugs at his hair lightly. “Oi, quit moving! And damn right I am,” he adds as an afterthought, smirking.
Izuku pouts but says nothing else, just lets the feeling of Kacchan’s hands slowly moving through his hair provide him a brief sense of comfort.
He must’ve dozed off for a minute or two, because once he realizes that the sounds of snipping has stopped and Kacchan has stopped moving his head around (admittedly forcefully), his brain catches up with the thought that Kacchan is likely done.
What was weird, though, is the fact that Kacchan’s hands were still carding through his hair, slowly and methodically. Sometimes he’ll pause just to twirl his finger around a particular strand, just to go back to running his fingers through his freshly cut hair. Izuku couldn’t help letting out a content sigh, causing Kacchan to freeze completely.
Looking up at Kacchan after what felt like the longest seconds of his life, Izuku noted that his cheeks were flushed. Probably from embarrassment, his brain supplied.
Before he could say… anything, really, Kacchan mumbled, “I was—making sure there weren’t any spots I missed.”
Izuku could only smile, in the way that showed off his teeth and the small dimples on his cheeks. Izuku wondered if Kacchan ever noticed those, too.
Despite being the one to initiate grueling eye contact all night, Kacchan was now looking at the hair-filled floor as if he had personal business with it.
Eyes still half-lidded from his mini-nap, Izuku tentatively reached up and wrapped his palm around Kacchan's neck, pulling him down, slowly, until they were face to face, the blonde being forced to look away from the floor and at him . At Izuku .
Seeing red, seeing it stare back, has never made him happier.
Kacchan's breath mixed with his, his nose brushing against Izuku’s own, but he didn’t care about any of that. All that mattered in that moment was the fact that Kacchan was looking at him, him, him. Izuku. Not Deku, no longer a boy Kacchan looks down on. Izuku, no longer being glared at. Izuku, the boy whose lashes brush against Kacchan’s own when he blinks.
Izuku let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Kacchan could probably feel it. “Hi, Kacchan.”
Pulling back just enough so that Izuku could see his face in full, Kacchan grumbled, “You need to get to bed, nerd. I’m not letting you copy my notes if you fall asleep during class tomorrow.” His voice was wavering slightly, and his face was still flushed. Is he still embarrassed?
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Izuku replied. Has his voice always sounded so mushy?
Kacchan’s face scrunched up further in what Izuku could only guess to be frustration, his blush spreading further. Jerkily, Kacchan shoved Izuku’s face away before hopping off the bed and towards his desk, scissors in hand.
Izuku remembered exactly why he was here in the first place at the same moment Kacchan slammed his desk drawer closed. Standing up and shuffling to the bathroom, Izuku clicked the lights on and got a good look at his hair.
Grinning, he ran his hands through his hair. It wasn’t choppy, or too short. Of course Kacchan would be good at this, he’s good at everything.
Peeking his head through the bathroom door, he noticed that Kacchan was putting his now-dirty All Might t-shirt in his hamper. There was still hair all over his floor.
He must’ve noticed Izuku’s shadow through the bathroom light that was flowing into the room, because Kacchan spoke up without looking at Izuku. “Get the broom, you’re cleaning the rest of this shit up, nerd,” he stated, calmer than he normally would.
Taking a second too long to realize what the request was due to the late hour, Izuku shook his head and picked up the small hand-held broom that was placed between the counter and the toilet, walking back into the room after turning the lights off.
The next few minutes were relatively quiet, with Izuku finishing up the cleaning and Kacchan having already drawn the balcony curtains, now lying in bed.
After putting the broom back where he got it, Izuku hovered over Kacchan's bed. “Kacchan, are you asleep?” he whispered, maybe a bit too quietly. The man in the bed gave no reply.
With a small sigh, Izuku slowly—slower than he ever normally would have—moved to lie down next to Kacchan. When the blond didn’t stir, Izuku pulled the covers over himself, his back towards Kacchan, and let his breathing even out. Iida would definitely chastise him for this in the morning. Izuku couldn’t really find it in himself to care.
And if smooth fingers running through his head lulled him to sleep, well, that was nobody's business but their own.