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Some part of Izuku regrets saying yes. Regrets the choices that led him to where he is now – which is, staring at himself in front of a mirror, dressed in clothes that makes him think that – maybe he should have taken Urakara’s offer of helping him choose his clothes, but then, she’d be asking questions with that knowing glint in her eyes and – he’s not ready for that. Not yet, not when his mind is still muddled with his own questions and heart-wrenching hope.
And yet, clad in a rather baggy light green shirt and a dark green jacket over it with loose, black, cargo pants and his signature red shoes – suddenly, he feels silly and slightly regrets refusing her offer. But only slightly.
It might be fun , he thinks, and sounds weak even in his own mind. It will be fun, he tries again, sounding more firm. And, of course it will, his former sensei will be there and so will Eri-chan who he hasn’t seen in awhile. If only because he’d been getting busier and busier with hero work, and only because he’s –
Been avoiding Aizawa.
Flushing, he tries not to think about it. Not now when he’s hours away from actually seeing him, not now when the image of him – soft and worried and sincere – is still fresh in his mind.
Not now when there are still so many unspoken words trying to break free from his throat, words on the tip of his tongue that he can’t find the courage to say.
Threatening to be said because of the small, ignited hope of maybe he wasn’t alone in his feelings, maybe he has a chance – maybe, he can finally be free. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Lingering in the air, in his heart, in his mind.
Izuku has always been emotional, and the years haven’t changed that. Only taught him to hide it, to mask it.
Biting his lips, steadying his breath, he clears his mind and it’s only somewhat successful. With nervousness strumming in his veins, he’s grateful that at least, none of it shows on his face. Glancing at the mirror only confirms that.
It will be fun. Nice, even. He thinks, grabbing his phone and wallet and walks out the door. It’ll be nice, one deep breath, one step out –
The door closes with a click.
The mission went well, is the thing.
It went more than well, Izuku would like to say, nevermind that he got hurt – stuck in a hospital bed with bandages around his head and a rather bad stab wound on his stomach. And maybe – maybe some of his ribs are broken, but he counts it as a win that he hadn’t broken any of his bones. Outer bones, anyway, he thinks, a little delirious.
It was one of the rare times he got to work with Underground heroes. A drug bust that Izuku was all too happy to lend a hand for. It went smoothly, for the most part and they managed to get in quietly, taking down the guards and thugs. Gathered enough evidence to take down the whole operation – it went smoothly, for the most part.
So of course that’s where it went wrong.
A sidekick got caught off-guard, a faulty information about one of the bodyguards Quirk and of course, the sidekick was used as a hostage; all recipes for a disaster, was it even a question as to how Izuku got hurt?
“Let her go.” Izuku had said calmly, mind already working in overdrive on how to take care of the situation. Suction cups on his hands, for sucking in objects? Or for sticking to things. With how he’s directing his hands to the target, most likely for sucking in.
“You ruined everything!” the thug shouted, gritting his teeth and the arm strangling the sidekicks – Hana, he recalled – neck tightened. The other hand facing Izuku, flexed slightly. “If you hadn’t showed up – if none of you showed up – it would’ve gone perfectly!”
“The drugs would’ve been used to kill people.” Izuku said, eyeing the flexing hand and gave Hana a reassuring smile, in the corner of his visions he saw the heroes that accompanied him pause. Thankfully the thug hadn’t noticed anything in his state of rage; nearing hysterical. “You know we can’t allow that.”
“Shut up! Shut up, shut up – shut up! ” the thug shouted, eyes wide with fear and anger, the type that told that at this point, the thug had nothing to lose – and in his panic-stricken state, that was dangerous.
With only minutes to react, Izuku rushed forward, Quirk activating and with a flash of green light – striked. Caught off guard, the thug let go of Hana but Izuku’s suspicions were confirmed because he was quickly sucked in by something and it was only because he managed to knock him out that he was quickly set free before he was sucked all the way in – unluckily enough, some other apprehended criminals used the momentary distraction as a last ditch effort to escape.
And really, Izuku would later think that it was unneeded, his intervention. But, seeing one of the thugs aim at one Aizawa Shouta, all he could think and feel was unadulterated panic.
His body moved before he could think, and before he knew it – the last thing he saw was the panic-stricken face of his former teacher and the thought of: I really need to work on my deescalating skills.
And here he was now, barely conscious on a hospital bed, nervous and worried and –
“I’m glad you’re awake.” and in the presence of the last person he wanted to see. Not that he hates Aizawa, he thinks guiltily. Just – conflicted.
He knew Aizawa wouldn’t be happy with him. Not when he did something reckless and took a line of fire for him. Izuku knew, of course, that Aizawa would’ve been fine, hurt but fine and alive but – he’s never one to stay still when he knew he could do something about it. Never one to stay still at the sight of someone he holds precious about to get hurt.
“Eraser – Aizawa-san,” he quickly corrects himself. Knowing that they weren’t on duty at the moment, sensei he almost says and it’s only the fact that Aizawa hasn’t been a sensei to him for a long time that stops him. “Are you – are you okay?”
He winces but thankfully Aizawa only gives a quirk of amusement at his choice of words.
“Fine,” Aizawa said, slouching in his seat and Izuku noted that he was still in his hero wear. “I’m not the one in bed rest.”
“Ah.” Izuku sheepishly said, flushing slightly and he leaned back in his bed, hoping it’ll swallow him whole. “I’m – fine, just sore. Nothing like a good sleep can’t fix.”
The whole hospital wing is quiet, and Izuku thinks that maybe it was only Aizawa and him inside, alone. He tries not to think about it too deeply, tries not to let the nervousness of the thought show on his face.
“How long was I out?” Izuku asked, worried. There was an ache in his muscles that tells that it’s been a day at most and a few hours at least.
“Half a day.” Aizawa said, a tone to his voice that makes Izuku pause and he hesitates. Unsure of what to say, of what to do when the pro-hero looked – haggard. Sitting in a position that states he’s been in it for awhile, the bags of thrown away and empty juice packets in the trash can beside him –
“Did you wait for me until I woke up?” Izuku said, disbelief coloring his tone. His eyes were wide and his breath caught in his throat. Because here is someone who thought he’d be worth waiting for.
“Yes.” Aizawa said simply. Still looking at Izuku like – like he was someone worth to be looked at with those gentle and fond eyes. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to convince himself that it was the pain-killers that were making his hands tremble.
“Why?” He said. Part of him hopes Aizawa ignores it, because it was said so softly it might as well have been unspoken. He wants to cover his ears, hide under his sheets like a child hiding from the incoming hurt, hidden from Aizawa’s piercing eyes – don’t look at me , he wants to say; plead. Don’t answer, because by the look on the other’s face – he will.
And Izuku is not so sure he’s strong enough to take whatever Aizawa will say.
“You were hurt.” Aizawa said, not once looking away and Izuku suddenly couldn't breathe. “Why wouldn’t I?”
And of course it was that simple – because Aizawa, who cares, who offers his hand so willingly – wanted to; so he would. Because put in such achingly simple yet so meaningful and sincere words – Izuku was hurt, so why wouldn’t he stay for him?
“Because you could.” Izuku whispers, blinking away the tears and bites his lips. It’s the pain-killers fault, he thinks, that such a simple notion could bring him to tears. An utter wreck of feelings and adoration and confusion.
“Get some rest, Izuku.” Aizawa said, and surely, Izuku told himself, he was imagining the fondness in his voice. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
And Izuku Midoriya, a mess of emotions inside him – taking comfort in the reassurance and safety that Aizawa brings – sleeps.
Later, much, much later, he’ll realise the thing that made him pause at the tone of Aizawa’s voice was the way it was said – like a fact, said like he’d been counting the seconds, minutes and hours. Half a day, he said like he was keeping track of the time it took for Izuku to wake up. Every breath he took, every exhale. From minute to minute, second to second; every tick of the clock.
Half a day, he said.
Izuku doesn’t know what to feel about it – or, no. he doesn’t know what to do about the feelings the thought – realisation – invoked in him. So instead, he settles for locking it deep inside him because what else can he do about it?
What else can he do about it? He tries not to answer the question he’s been asking himself since day one.
“Eri-chan!” Izuku says, giving a beaming smile. It’s been so long since he's seen the girl he’s grown to consider as a little sister.
Time has done her good, he thinks. Taking a seat across her, he can’t help but soften. Her hair is in a high pony-tail held by a pink scrunchie, and he blushes as soon as he sees the Deku clips holding her bangs on the side of her face.
Though not much time has passed, he can tell Eri has grown. Not in terms of height – but in how she looks. Happier, looser. Eri looks more comfortable in her own skin than she ever was before. Time did her good, Izuku thinks again, this time more relieved and wistful.
“Deku-kun!” Eri says, a happy smile on her face and he’s gratified to see that shine in her eyes grow brighter just at the sight of him. She leans over the table to hug him and Izuku is all too happy to do so, careful of the plates and glasses placed on it.
Thankfully enough, they were both in a more secluded corner of the restaurant. Hidden and private, part of Izuku is glad for that, at the very least they’ll be left alone and remain undisturbed.
Letting go, Eri sat back on her seat. Smile unchanging and only growing as Izuku himself sat down, eyeing the empty chair between them with a curious look.
“Dad’s saying hi to the owner.” Eri says then glances up just as another figure walks up to them. “and – oh! He’s here!”
“Aizawa-san,” Izuku says, mouth dry. Watching said man take the seat next to them. He looked – dashing.
Though he supposed, Aizawa would look good in any clothes in Izuku’s unbiased opinion.
“Izuku,” Aizawa says, a warm lilt to his voice. And Izuku, though they were not even that close – felt like they were mere inches apart. “Sorry for the wait. I’m good friends with the owner of this place so I had to say hi.”
Izuku shakes his head. “No, no it’s fine.” he says, giving a reassuring smile. “I just arrived, actually.”
“Have you been here before?” Aizawa asks, and at the shake of Izuku’s head, scoots over a little bit closer to him and opens the menu.
“I’d recommend their kaisendon bowls.” the older murmurs, close enough that Izuku could feel his breath, and quietly, he swallows. “They have a just as good katsudon, too.”
“A – ah,” Izuku says, trying to keep still. “What will you be having, Aizawa-san?”
Humming, the older man leans back, fixing Izuku a fond look like he knows what he’s doing, and it only makes Izuku’s ears burn even more. “Eri and I like their unagi donburi.”
“Unagi donburi!” Eri says, beaming. “It’s really good, Deku-kun has to try it!”
“Ah, then I can get that, too.” He says, a tad unsure as he eyes the price of it. He could pay, of course. But he has a feeling that Aizawa wouldn’t approve. Seeing the look on his face only confirms that.
“I invited you, so I’ll pay.” Aizawa says quietly, fixing Izuku the look that brings him back to the days when the man was still his teacher. He bites his lips, wanting to fight back, just a little and only pauses when the other leans closer.
Dark eyes, fond and soft and – Izuku thinks, breath up his throat, almost… loving.
“Let me do this.” Aizawa says, voice firm and the sincerity in it makes Izuku cave easily. Large, rough hands coming to touch Izuku’s smaller and scarred ones.
He could never say no, not when Aizawa looks, asks like – that .
And of course, seeing that, instead of leaning away, he leans even more. Sitting close to Izuku, close enough to have their thighs touching under the table, enough that even their elbows touch when both are on it – with that smug and satisfied look on his face, well.
Izuku was doomed from that start.
The thing is, Izuku never knew when he’s admiration grew to become love. Didn’t notice and at this point, didn’t matter.
What mattered was that it grew, slowly, determinedly, wrapping around his entire being like vines, consuming him like fire, drowning him like the sea. He loved and loved and loved, knowing it wouldn’t get him anywhere but loved anyway.
He knew it would amount to nothing, some would say it was a futile effort – to love someone who would never return the feelings. And yet, he thinks, thinking back to the dependable back – to Aizawa’s soft eyes and smile and the determined set of his brows whenever he readies to protect him – them – he thinks;
My gift to you, my heart, my love.
He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop. Not really. He knows himself too well to hope otherwise –
Izuku will love and love, as wide as the blue sky and as bright as the sun – without the hope of ever being loved back.
Because, he thinks, smiling the type of smile that only comes out at the thought of him – sometimes, you just do.
He wakes up again, to the sight of Aizawa Shouta reading a book, and it wasn’t until Izuku was more awake – coherent, but still so tongue tied at the sight of him – that he was asked.
“Eri misses you.” Aizawa says after a moment. Glancing at him with dark, unreadable eyes. He was wearing new clothes now, after Izuku’s insistence that really, Aizawa-san, I can be left alone for a few minutes!
Call me Shouta , Aizawa had said, fond exasperation coloring his tone. Evidently, Izuku refused.
“I miss her, too.” Izuku says, a pang of guilt hitting him at not being able to visit her more often. “I’m sorry I…” he pauses at the shake of Aizawa’s head.
“It’s fine, she understands, we both do.” he says gently, then, a little more determined, says. “Tomorrow, Eri and I are going to this restaurant.”
“And I would like it if you’d join us, Izuku,” And Aizawa who says his name so softly, so fondly, so– lovingly– well, well, what can he do but agree. What can he do but nod? Neck flushing and mind fuzzy with thoughts and confusion because surely, surely–he must be imagining the adoration in Aizawa’s eyes? Surely, it must be the trick of light. It must have been the drugs in his system, the painkillers, the Quirk inflicted on him, the adrenaline making him see things that aren’t true.
And yet –
“Thank you.” Aizawa said, a rare soft smile on his face. And yet, Aizawa’s larger and calloused hand holding Izuku’s own scarred ones tenderly and lovingly; the touch – it lingers. With the unspoken promise of something more –
In the air, with Izuku’s name on Aizawa’s tongue, said so tenderly; with that look that surely, Izuku must have mistaken it for something else – and yet the thought, the suspicion won’t leave his mind – it lingers .
Izuku swallows. The words he can’t say, the things he wants to but not yet, not yet; not when –
“Nothing to thank me for.” he says weakly, giving what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Or, at least one that shows nothing of his thoughts.
Is this a date? Lays on the tip of his tongue. Unspoken because – what they have is as fragile as glass, and Izuku – drifting loss in the sea – is too afraid to hold it.
“Thank you for inviting me, Aizawa-san.” Izuku says, standing beside Aizawa in a park nearby, both of them watching Eri play with the snow. Watching her laugh so freely, play so freely – be so free – is nice. Wonderful, enveloping him in warmth that not even the cold December can touch.
Each smile from Eri is a hard-earned victory – hope in the form of a smile coming from one child he came to hold dearly.
Beside him, Aizawa hums, and Izuku can feel his gaze on him. Heavy and knowing. Carefully, he doesn’t look back.
“We’re glad to have you, Midoriya.” Aizawa says, voice rumbling and his tone is nothing but warmth. “Eri was delighted when she found out you were coming.”
Izuku can’t help the pleased smile that forms, and he ducks his face under his scarf to hide it. “I missed her a lot, so I was happy to see her, too.”
“And me?” Aizawa asks, his tone was clearly teasing but when Izuku whips to look at him, eyes wide – his eyes are dark and heavy and smouldering.
“I–you–?” Izuku stumbles, cheeks heating up for reasons other than the cold weather. “I–of course, of course–I–”
“Of course you…?” Aizawa was teasing him now, he was sure of it now. And yet, underneath that – was something else. Something – Izuku can’t really name. Not now, and especially not when his heart is beating so fast he’s scared it’ll come and jump out his chest.
“I missed you.” He blurts out, staring at Aizawa’s eyes. Mouth dry and heart beating, he thinks. This is it.
Snow falling down around them, with the cold air against his warm cheeks – the world is quiet. This is it.
“I missed you,” he says again. Trying to sound firm but only ending up sounding soft, achingly earnest. “A lot. Very much so. Tremendously. Really, really miss you.”
I miss you. I love you.
Here is the thing: Izuku loves without the hope of ever being loved back. And yet –
Aizawa’s hand gently cradles his cheek, a soft smile on his lips and a fond look in his eyes. “Yeah?” he teases, something soft in his tone.
They’re close. Chest to chest, and Izuku worries everyone can hear his heart’s beating thump thump thump .
“Yeah.” Izuku breathes. Something soft in his tone, too.
And when Aizawa leans down to kiss him, and when Izuku meets him half-way; he knows, with certainty:
Somehow, someway, he’s loved back anyway.