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Shinsou Hitoshi knew that he wasn’t the best person to ask when it came to romantic relationships. He wasn’t the most sociable, nor the most entertaining person to be with or hang around.
He also prided himself on his sleep deprivation and stared his insomnia in the eyes.
Sure, it always won the staring contests, but he had clearly tried. The thought was what counted, right?
What was he even thinking?
He stared at the calendar on his fridge, the thing was barely holding itself together, the pages half torn out of the little wire spiral thing that he couldn’t be bothered to search the name of.
It was running on spite at this point, kind of like Hitoshi.
He cradled his head in his hands, too much thinking, much too much thinking. He was getting a migraine.
He devoured the rest of his meager food, ignoring the way his stomach still grumbled. If he asked for any more he wouldn’t be getting anything else for the rest of the day.
When he was finally done with the tense meal, his fosters staring at him as if they were prepared that he would do something wrong, Hitoshi washed his plate and headed to school.
He wouldn’t say it out loud, but when the muzzle went on, the bad days where the fosters were just a tad too violent, Hitoshi entertained the idea of just fucking sucker punching them.
He didn’t actually do it of course, that was a surefire way to get put back in the system, and who knew how far away the next home would be from UA, but he liked to imagine.
When he got to UA, it was actually a little better. There were, of course, the stereotypical bullies, but Nezu actually had his school under tight scrutiny, so they tended to just avoid him like the plague.
Sure, it was still stereotyping and definitely a form of harassment to spread rumours about him, but at least they weren’t straight up hitting him. Definitely an improvement.
He went through the day with his head down and an air of anonymity. He didn’t need friends, nobody needed him. So it was all good.
But then came his favourite class, private and personal training with Mr Aizawa. It was great. It was perfect. And that was how his days went.
Until another kid joined him.
A perfect, heroically quirked, goody-two-shoes kid.
Midoriya Izuku.
He saw them around school, noticed the way girls would swoon and people would talk him up like he was an angel on Earth.
The worst part was that he never actually gave Shinsou a valid reason to hate him, so everybody would just say that he was being mean if he tried to explain that Midoriya was actually stuck up and spoiled.
He was sure that Midoriya had had everything he could ever want, everything handed to him on a silver fucking platter. It was disgusting.
Yet every single time he met the boy, he was shrinking in on himself, every single time he met the boy, they were scanning for an exit, every single time he met the boy, they never once said anything mean.
He couldn’t let his guard down, he’d been wrong before. But something about the way Midoriya moved and acted reminded him just a little too much of Shinsou himself.
And that terrified him.
Because if Midoriya was wrongly stereotyped by Shinsou, then what else could the boy be missing? So he chose to ignore the obvious signs and close his eyes to the truth.
But then came the most damning evidence. On a rainy day.
There was peace in the dorms of 2-A, or as much as there could be anyway. It was raining, and of course that was bad weather, but it wasn’t the end of the world.
Shinsou stared out the window, the raindrops pattering against the glass pane. He wondered where they had been, the places they had been sourced from.
Water from thousands of years ago was the same as today.
He rubbed his head. The science classes had definitely gotten to him, why was he even thinking about the water cycle of all things?
That was what was going through his mind when a faint noise caught his attention. Now usually, he would mind his own business, but something inside of him told him to go check it out, see what was happening.
He called Mr Aizawa and made his way over to the source of the sound. After all, his teacher had told him that he could ask for help whenever, and even if this turned out to be nothing it was better to be safe than sorry.
Screaming was coming out from a phone, Midroiya wincing as he listened to the speaker.
The things they said were insults that Shinsou wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.
Slurs, and quirkist remarks, complaints of how useless Midoriya was, how terrible of a son he was. It was all too much.
What horrified Shinsou the most was that they had specifically mentioned him being a son.
This person, this speaker, was Midoriya’s parent.
Aizawa came barging in, figuratively, and was already taking stock of what was happening. Shinsou could do nothing as Aizawa vehemently told off the speaker. Sending scathing remarks in their direction.
He could do nothing as Mr Aizawa put a hand on Midoriya’s shoulder and soothed him.
But he could walk up to Midoriya and Mr Aizawa and reluctantly open up his arms, surprised by the subsequent flash of green as Midoriya practically leapt into Shinsou’s arms.
“I’m sorry you two had to see that. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her. I’m sorry that I disturbed you. I’m sorr-”
Midoriya likely would’ve continued had Shinsou not quietly shushed him, letting Aizawa speak. “You’re not at fault for anything, kid. Don’t apologise.”
Shinsou nodded along, he had heard what she had said and he was rethinking his misconceptions about Midoriya (Apparently he had been quirkless?) but even he knew that Midoriya was the victim in this situation.
He wouldn’t consider Midoriya a close friend, but he knew that Midoriya’s homelife wasn’t perfect now, and that was enough for him.
He had been so judgemental, so bitter, that he had failed to notice clear abuse going on. He had become the very person he hated. Yet Midoriya had grown up quirkless.
He had a much better reason to be angry than Hitoshi, yet he still treated everyone with respect.
Hitoshi was in shock.
But Midoriya smiled at him, and sure, maybe they weren’t friends, maybe they barely knew each other. But he was certain that it would be fine.
He had a lot of apologies to give, but for now it was enough to just cradle Midoriya in his arms, Aizawa whispering soft words to both of them.