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Izuku rocks back and forth on his heels, one hand clutching his phone and the other playing with the hem of his sweater as he waits for his order to be called.
He’s tired, six months of almost non-stop travel having drained the very life out of him, but he’s finally home again.
All he wants is the smoothie he’s been craving for the past four hours and a snack. Then he can go home and try to stay awake until late enough so that what remains of his sleep schedule won’t be totally destroyed.
He has a month of downtime ahead of him before he has to decide if he’ll be staying in Musutafu or if he’ll accept another long-term travel assignment.
Izuku knows what he wants to do, what he aches to do, but he also knows what the smarter, safer, choice is.
He misses his apartment, misses his bed, his kitchen, the way it feels to spend his off mornings curled up on his couch with the warm, comforting weight of Shō-
Izuku shakes the thought off, determined not to go there.
Not again.
Not anymore.
It’s been seven months, six of which Izuku has made an effort to be on the move and gone for.
It’s far past time for him to make peace and adjust to his new normal.
Besides, as much as the thought burns, Izuku is sure that Shō-he doesn’t even think of Izuku anymore.
“Izuku.”
Izuku freezes.
That voice, deep and rough like always, but just a bit breathless.
Izuku should ignore it, ignore him.
He’s been doing so well, has put so much distance between them for so long now. Has resisted the way every part of him has cried out from the sheer agony of their separation.
He needs to remain strong and not let all of that progress be undone.
“Izuku,” the call comes again. “Please.”
And Izuku …
It’s been seven months but he’s apparently still so weak for this man.
He turns.
Has to bite back the shaky sigh that trembles through him.
Standing there, looking more exhausted than Izuku has ever seen him, hair in a messy bun, bags thick and dark beneath his eyes, but still somehow so handsome it hurts, is the reason Izuku’s been running for months now.
“Shōta,” Izuku dips his head in a small nod even as he slips his phone into his pocket so he can tangle both of his hands in the hem of his sweater.
“You’re here,” Shōta takes a half step forward, one hand raised like he’s going to touch Izuku.
Shōta’s face immediately falls into a grimace when Izuku matches the move with a half step back instead of into his space like he once would have. Like he once would have rushed to do.
Like a not-so-small part of Izuku still aches to do.
Love, or the lack of it, was never the reason they’d ended.
At least not on Izuku’s behalf.
“This is my favorite cafe,” Izuku manages to say, staring just past Shōta’s shoulder in an attempt to avoid eye contact.
Those pretty dark eyes have always been such a weakness for Izuku, capable of tearing down all his defences and sending him spinning.
“I remember,” Shōta shifts until he’s once more directly in Izuku’s line of sight. “I’ve been coming here every morning for the past seven months.”
Izuku knows he shouldn’t.
Knows he should let the comment fly past and over him without acknowledging it.
But he just …
“Why?” Izuku asks.
Can’t.
It’s Shōta.
“I missed you,” Shōta says instantly, like every word out of his mouth isn’t gutting Izuku all over again. “I wanted, needed, to see you again.”
“That’s not what you said the last time we spoke,” Izuku can’t help the bitter huff that leaves him.
He still has nightmares sometimes about that argument, about the look on Shōta’s face and the way he had told Izuku to leave and never come back.
Izuku had spent a week teetering on the edge of doing so in a more permanent fashion before Nedzu-sensei had taken him in paw and sent him away on assignment.
Shōta winces.
“I know,” Shōta takes another half step forward. “I know I did.”
This time Izuku holds his ground.
“And I’m so sorry for that,” Shōta reaches out, his hand hovering over Izuku’s shoulder. “I should’ve never said that to you, kitten.”
And that …
That’s too much for Izuku.
“Don’t call me that,” Izuku can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. “Y-You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
Smoothie forgotten, Izuku pushes past Shōta, dodging his reaching hands as he hits the cafe door just shy of a run.
Izuku can’t do this.
He can’t.
Not now, not again.
He won’t survive it.
“Izuku!” There’s the sound of heavy boots behind him, the noise a testament to just how determined the normally cat-footed Shōta is for some reason.
Izuku speeds up, pushes his exhausted body to go faster, even as the part of his mind that never stops knows it is useless.
Shōta is going to catch him.
He always does.
A length of capture scarf, so familiar to Izuku in so many different ways and positions, loops its way around his waist.
Between one step and the next, Izuku is being tugged into an alleyway.
Shōta’s arms clamp down around Izuku and pull him against his chest.
“I’ve got you,” Shōta murmurs against Izuku’s temple.
Izuku goes wild.
“No!” Izuku shrieks, uncaring of who might hear, as he flails against the familiar wrap-and-hold Shōta has him in. “No! You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t! You don’t! You don’t!”
“Shh, Izuku,” Shōta attempts to soothe him. “Calm down, please calm down. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
“It’s not!” Izuku redoubles his efforts but he can feel himself weakening, the burst of adrenaline from before wearing off quickly. “It’s not okay! You left me! You told me to never come back! I’ve been good and stayed away like you wanted! You don’t get to change your mind like this and-and hurt me again!”
“I know,” Shōta sounds gutted. “I know I said that but I regret it. I regretted it as soon as you left. I tried to find you, to take it all back, but you were just gone.”
Izuku stills, body weak but heart weaker.
Always weak for Shōta.
“Y-You looked for me?” He can’t help but whisper, a traitorous spark of hope igniting in his chest.
“Every damn day,” Shōta says instantly. “I called but you didn’t pick up. I went to your apartment but it was empty and you never showed back up at UA. So I kept calling until you changed your number. I even went to Nedzu.”
“Y-You did?” Izuku’s heart skips a beat.
Izuku knows just how reluctant Shōta has always been to go to Nedzu-sensei for anything not directly related to his students.
“Every day for two months,” Shōta confesses. “But he refused to tell me anything. That’s why I was at the cafe this morning. I couldn’t find you and it was driving me crazy, Izuku. But I-I know how much you love that place so I thought maybe you’d still go there sometime.”
“You said,” Izuku chokes down the sob that tries to claw its way out of him, “you told me to go.”
“I’m sorry,” Shōta moves, presses his lips against Izuku’s temple, slides them down to pepper kisses across the arch of his cheek.
Izuku’s breath hitches.
“I regret it,” Shōta repeats as he moves them until Izuku is pressed up against the alley wall. “Losing you is the biggest regret of my life, Izuku. I’d give anything to make it go away. Anything to have some other regret take its place.”
“You can’t,” Izuku manages to say, mind already clouding over like it does every time Shōta gets his hands on him. “You-You broke my heart. You can’t just take that back.”
“Then let me make it up to you, kitten,” Shōta insists, voice dropping into that familiar, hot tone that never fails to destroy Izuku.
Shōta presses a kiss against the side of Izuku’s mouth.
Angles their heads so that they’re breathing the same air.
“You remember how it was between us, right?” Shōta whispers, eyes locked with Izuku’s. “How good I made you feel? My hands and mouth on your body, my cock inside of you. How I used to make you scream for me? Haven’t you missed it as much as I have? Do you still lie awake at night and touch yourself wishing it was me?”
Izuku does.
Oh gods he does.
The heat that had burned between them, the way Shōta used to fuck him so perfectly. From lazy, early morning head to quickies in the supply closet at UA as Shōta fucked him fast and punishingly hard with his teeth buried in Izuku’s throat like that’s where they belonged.
The utter bliss Izuku had found with Shōta back when he’d thought the man he loved so desperately actually loved him back.
Those memories have haunted Izuku almost as much as Shōta breaking up with him has.
“That’s not fair,” Izuku breathes as he turns his face from Shōta as best he can.
“I don’t care,” Shōta murmurs into his ear, one hand coming up to cup Izuku’s chin and turn his face back toward him. “I love you. I’m willing to do whatever I have to do to make you love me back again. To love me like you used to.”
Izuku goes still, stares searchingly up into Shōta’s dark eyes, his heart pounding in his chest.
“You don’t mean that,” Izuku’s accusation comes out sounding far more like a plea.
“I do,” Shōta swears, leaning down to press his forehead against Izuku’s for a split second before he pulls back. “More than anything.”
Shōta’s capture scarf finally loosens enough that all that is keeping Izuku in place is the wall at his back and Shōta’s arms.
“You,” Izuku swallows roughly, forces himself to keep going. To say what needs to be said. “You don’t like the way I love you.”
“Don’t say that,” Shōta half commands, half begs, the hand on Izuku’s chin sliding up to tangle in his hair. “It’s not true. I swear it’s not.”
“But you,” Izuku can’t help but tilt his head into the touch he’s been missing for months now, “you were so mad.”
“I was stupid,” Shōta says, hand tightening in Izuku’s hair. “When I found the cameras in my apartment, when I realized just how long you’d been watching me before we met. I got inside my head about it, worked myself up. I didn’t think it through logically.”
Shōta presses a sipping sort of kiss against Izuku’s mouth.
“I didn’t realize that it was just proof of how much you love me,” Shōta whispers. “How long you’ve loved me and how loyal you’ve been. Because you have been devoted to me haven’t you, kitten? You’ve been mine for so long now, even back when I didn’t know any better.”
“Yes,” Izuku admits breathlessly, some part of him so relieved to finally be able to admit it to Shōta. “I-I used to work on your case files, back when I was with the police, and I just … you were so perfect. I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.”
“I want that again,” Shōta tells him. “Love me like that again. Forever this time.”
And Izuku …
He breaks.
Of course he does.
It’s Shōta, the man he’s loved for so long now.
“I never stopped loving you,” Izuku admits. “I only stayed away and stopped watching because you told me to. Because it upset you so badly. Because having you so mad at me? The thought that you might h-hate me? I couldn’t … I’d rather die. ”
Shōta groans, deep and rough, and captures Izuku’s mouth in a dirty, biting kiss.
Izuku moans and leans into it, meeting Shōta with all of the love and longing he’s spent the past seven months attempting to hold in and back.
“Move in with me,” Shōta pants once he pulls back. “Fuck, marry me. You can put the cameras back and re-bug my phone. I’ll even have Majima build you a tracker. Whatever you want or need to do. Just come back home with me. Please.”
“Okay,” Izuku surges forward for another kiss even as he slips right back into the blissful giddiness of loving Shōta and being loved by him in return. “But this time, even if you tell me to go, I won’t. You’ll be mine, forever.”
“Forever,” Shōta agrees as he ducks down to scoop Izuku up off the ground and into his arms. “I promise.”
Izuku laughs through a fresh tide of joyful tears.
It’s a promise that Izuku knows Shōta will never break.
Izuku will make sure of that.
No matter what.