Chapter Text
When it came down to it, Izuku always knew the type of person he wanted to be: cool.
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:01
Amidst the throngs of university lie a hub for social outcasts. Loud, thrumming music, and the wafts of marijuana, and the collective heat ruminating between the tightly-packed, flailing bodies. This glorious hole-in-the-wall was Haven and there, Izuku was a staple.
For no longer than two hours at nearly every themed event, Izuku’s live mixes permeated the social boundaries of the various groups that made up UA. The elevating hyperpop sound ignited passion and euphoria; without Izuku, there was no Haven.
Sticky from sweat, Izuku left the mixing table, laptop in tow. Grateful homages from the crowd impeded the fall of his grin, high off the feeling of feeding the crowd’s insatiable hunger for music. Strobe lights and body heat filled the space that bounced Izuku around like a beach ball among high school graduates, and there was thrill in that meandering. ‘Meander’ in the sense that—much like a sinuous river racing upstream, away from an estuary—he found himself migrating towards the outskirts of the crowd (a place that was typically safe from the mostly overwhelming environment), where many had retreated to take their breathers, take a smoke break, or people-watch; where he met the gazes of several familiar faces and several not-so, all of which remained either cordial or adulatory in the brevity of their small talk; where he was not-quite-dismayingly, not-quite-excitingly approached by a group of newcomers (and a few veterans; where he saw him.
“Hey, you’re that DJ guy! Izuku, right?” A girl decked out in the vibrant color of pink approached him familiarly, grabbing onto his shoulders and then pointing to herself. “Mina”
Izuku had seen her around Haven every now and then. Considering her outgoing demeanor and his general popularity, he wasn’t particularly off-put by her touchiness.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Izuku beamed, shouting over the boosted bass. “D’you guys like the set?”
“Oh, my God, did I?” Mina turned back towards her friends. “You’re, like, a musical genius, dude! I totally love all your sets!”
“No, seriously, you’re a campus legend; pride and joy of the music program.” A guy stepped forward from the group–longish, black hair and a couple facial piercings–and extended his hand to dap him up. “I’m Hanta.”
Izuku laughed, gushing over the praise with an accepting nod. “‘Preciate it, man, thank you.”
“Wait, wait, Haven does bands, right?” Mina tapped him excitedly. “Bands can apply for live performances, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” Izuku concurred with a nod. “I’m pretty sure the next few events are themed, and we’re pretty booked for the next month or so, but we’re having a battle of the bands soon.”
“Oh, awesome, when’s that?”
“Uhh,” Izuku racked his brain. “I wanna say it’s somethin’ like the sixteen or seventeenth. Just–Here, there are dates up on the insta, if you follow them.”
“Word, okay, I will totally go check that out then.” she clasped her hands together with a grin.
“You’re in a band then? What do you play?”
“Oh, no, not me. It’s Jirojack’s band.”
Mina turned towards the group of friends that she obviously led unspokenly, jutting her thumb out towards the shortest of them: a girl with short, indigo hair, facial piercings and a series of layered, baggy clothing. Despite her striking appearance, however, Izuku couldn’t help but spare a couple of glances towards the particularly tall blonde amidst the group; which was fair, seeing as he was tall and blonde, but Izuku was more so stuck up on the familiarity of his face. It didn’t take much for him to remember from where once they met each other’s gazes. The indigo-haired band member diverted his attention again and offered an awkward grin and wave before formally introducing herself.
“Kyoka.” she nodded once. “I’m on bass and mic.”
“Sweet,” Izuku grinned. “Who’s all in your band? Do I know ‘em?”
“Oh, you’ve…definitely heard of our guitarist, at the very least.” she huffed. “Loud, blonde, lightning bolt hair?”
“Ah,” Izuku concluded with a knowing grin. “Denki. I know him.”
“Figures.” she nodded with a matching grin. “No, but our friend Fumikage’s on electric too, and…” she turned around, searching briefly for someone; the blonde. “Katsuki’s on drums.”
They’d only met eyes briefly before, but now they had no choice but to hold that gaze upon formal introduction. Izuku noted his appearance, and it was starkly different than what would be expected of a Haven attendee or even a drummer in a band with someone as Ramona Flowers-esque as Kyoka was. Baggy jeans and a plain black tee with a white skull print was all there was to his outfit; no jewelry except for a silver chain and a pair of earrings, no belt, no fun shoes. He was very…plain, Izuku concluded. Well. What was to be expected of a fratboy anyway?
The blonde—or Katsuki, more appropriately—jutted his chin out, nodding in a nonchalant ‘hello.’ Izuku countered that with a cordial wave and simple grin.
“How long’ve you played?” Izuku struck up conversation like the social butterfly he was.
“Uh,” he started off strongly. “Since I was seven.”
Izuku whistled, an impressed grin splayed on his face. Katsuk did not mirror such amusement.
“Impressive. I bet you’re quite the drummer.”
“Our songs have rhythm.” he shrugged in response.
“I’m sure.” he let out an awkward laugh. “Outside of piano, percussion’s always been my weakness. I was never able to get any good at the drums.”
“Oh,” Katsuki hummed with an awkward nod and shrug. “Well.”
Izuku had had less awkward conversations with his action figures.
“Well, I look forward to seeing you guys perform!” Izuku laughed awkwardly, filling the space with as much joy as could cancel out the uncomfortability.
“Thanks.” Kyoka chimed in. “We’ll try our hardest.”
“Why do you have beads in your hair?” Katsuki asked suddenly and quite straightforwardly. His face was scrunched up in this weird way that Izuku couldn't discern from judgment or confusion.
Izuku raised an eyebrow amusedly. “Why’s your hair blonde?”
“I wanted it that way.”
“Then I wanted it that way.”
“...Huh.”
Izuku shrugged. Mina filled the space with awkward laughter.
“Sorry about him, he doesn’t mean any harm.”
“It’s no worries; I’ve definitely heard worse.” Izuku waved dismissively. “I should probably head out actually, but I hope I’ll see you guys around campus sometime. Maybe Haven too?”
“Deeefinitely,” Hanta nodded.
“Nice meeting you all.” Izuku waved with a grin as he started back towards the crowd. His eyes fell back on the tall blonde, and he nodded accordingly with the same grin. “Percussionist.”
As quickly as he’d initially escaped it, Izuku melded back into the crowd. Heat, movement he couldn’t quite call dance, intoxication all surrounded him, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Here, he was home. A place in which music unites and disputes lie dormant, Haven was nothing like the high school parties and frat parties he’d been to in the past. He may not have been the manager, but Izuku ran the place. Even that simple title of unofficial eminence evoked within him motivation and passion.
He met more eyes, and smiled at more faces, and dapped up more hands, and eventually made his way to the other side of the warehouse. More music, more dancing, more people. Izuku probably did have assignments to catch up on and early-morning lectures to attend, but none of that mattered in that moment. In that moment, music wasn’t just an assignment. In that moment, music was integral to the human condition, a part of a whole that built the foundation of natural thought, and conscience, and emotion. In that moment, music was his saving grace, and Haven was its physical manifestation.
If there were ever a person who adored music more than Izuku, it would have had to have been before he was born or will be long after he’s passed; because to Izuku, music is passion, and passion ignites the flames that breathe life to the mundane sycophancy that is modern society. Music was intrinsic to the soul–to his soul–a forever tempo that beat rhythmically inside his chest. His heartbeat was like a drum beat, percussion to the flow of his life force.
In hindsight, Izuku would probably note that this was why he’d always struggled with percussion. In hindsight, Izuku would probably note that this was why he’d always had a thing for percussionists. In hindsight, the music etched into his soul wouldn’t blind him to the reality of such a break in rhythm, caesura. In hindsight, Izuku was the spaciest music major in all of U.A.
Now surrounded by a group of regulars, most of which he called his friends, Izuku’s rhythm remained uninterrupted. They chatted briefly about classes the following morning and the people they’d met or met again that night. There was some strange joy in the familiarity of friendship–a strange joy that Izuku had always valued–but no caesura; not really; not quite.
▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:02
“I mean, Katsuki, if you’re really interested in joining the music program, you should talk to Izuku.” Mina walked alongside Katsuki and Sero on the pavement outside the Haven warehouse.
“It’s true. He’s, like, a prodigy.” Sero accorded.
“The DJ?”
“The very one.”
“He’s weird.” Katsuki shook his head as if ridding himself of a memory, promptly following such with a motion of his fingers towards the side of his head. “‘S got beads in his hair.”
“Well,” Mina huffed. “You sure as hell can’t remain undecided forever.”
“That weird guy at the frat’s undecided.”
“What weird guy?” Sero racked his brain.
“Y’know the guy with the hair.”
“How helpful.” Mina frowned.
“The–Redhead’s friend!”
“Tetsutetsu?”
Katsuki tutted annoyedly. “See, you do know who I’m talking about. All difficult for no fucking reason.”
“You–”
Katsuki interrupted her exclamation. “Anyway, he’s undecided, and you don’t grill him.”
“Well, he’s not my friend. And he, like the rest of us, are freshmen. We have time to pick and switch majors. You’re at the end of the line, Sophomore, so pick your major soon or drop out.”
“And make as much as your parents do in a year? I’ll pass.”
“Low blow, Bakugo.” Sero hissed in amused disapproval.
“Whatever. Not everyone can be born into money like you, Mr. Prim-and-Proper.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Katsuki shoved Mina, and she glared at him.
“I take back the proper.” she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “And the prim.”
Katsuki clicked his tongue, pocketing his hands once again and ignoring her further comments. In the silence, however, he spoke.
“I’ll choose a major soon.”
“You better.”
“I just said I would, dumbass.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure.”