Izuku's never missed a phone call from Katsuki.
They chat nearly every night, FaceTime occasionally when Katsuki's especially tired and doesn't want to hold his phone to his ear, so he props it somewhere and slumps in front of the camera. He can tell the first time Katsuki does this that he's not staying in a hotel; rather, it looks like an apartment. The second time they FaceTime, Katsuki makes the mistake of setting up at the dining table, and Izuku doesn't miss Eijirou walking behind Katsuki into the kitchen wearing a towel over his shoulders and a pair of pajama pants. Izuku doesn't comment, because Katsuki's just finished explaining the shit day he's had, and he doesn't want to throw gasoline on that fire.
And then Shouto is somehow around later and later, closer to when Katsuki calls the night after a gig – it's two in the morning sometimes, sometimes nearer to three, and Katsuki calls and interrupts them sitting across from each other on Izuku's couch eating fast food or, occasionally, sitting in the booth at that same diner Katsuki called at just a month or so ago.
And now it's the same, except it's much earlier in the day – it's three in the afternoon, just before Shouto and Izuku's interview – that Katsuki is requesting to FaceTime him. And, even while he sits at his piano, idly fingering chords while Shouto borrows his office to get ready, he answers. It's his turn to prop his phone up, using the stand normally reserved for sheet music. "Kacchan!" he greets warmly, smile wide and eyes crinkled.
"Deku," Katsuki grunts back, and it's such a casual greeting that Izuku isn't expecting the words that come next. "Tell me you aren't fucking Half n' Half."
And that smile melts away and replaces instead with a grimace, a frown so tight that his furrowed brows nearly immediately instill a headache on him. It turns into a wince with the pain, and Katsuki sighs on the other end. "I don't care if you are!" he gripes, which completely betrays his previous sentiment, but Izuku exhales.
It's really not his fault that the tabloids took the photo of Izuku (Mr. Loverman) clinging to Shouto's elbow. And it's really not his fault that they ran with the idea of Shouto in a relationship with Izuku (Mr. Loverman) for the sake of running with it, selling millions and millions of copies of magazines with their faces plastered across the front and huge, gaudy pink hearts dotting the edges. MR. LOVERMAN'S NEW LOVER? Izuku reads on the headlines, exhales through his nose in annoyance when he's at the grocery store or walking down the streets and he sees those stupid photos.
And it's really, really not his fault that this is the exact moment Shouto decides to step out of the office, clad in just his black slacks, hair swept back. Izuku supposes he should have angled his phone away from the door.
"Answer me," Katsuki demands, and Izuku doesn't miss the way Katsuki's eyes train on Shouto, and Izuku's eyes would be training Shouto, too, if he wasn't on the phone right now.
"Is that Katsuki?" Shouto asks, obviously not seeing the issue with him being shirtless.
Izuku goes red. "Y-yes, it's Kacchan," he calls to Shouto, and Katsuki is gritting his teeth and Izuku doesn't know why Katsuki is so mad about this but it's starting to make him mad as well. "No, I'm not…we're not," he adds, stern, addressed at Katsuki.
Katsuki, in return, quirks a brow. "Is that why you two are having this interview tonight?" he asks, and he sounds a lot less invested now. His eyes fall past the phone onto something else on the other end of the line as he asks the question.
"Yeah," Izuku huffs. "Shouto's PR agent called us the other night."
Shouto flops down on the couch behind him and Izuku finally takes the time to glance at him. He couldn't tell from the small phone screen, but Shouto is well-built (which Izuku knows, obviously, but it's nice to have such a wonderful reminder). He has defined abs even lounging on Izuku's couch, and his arms are toned and his shoulders are toned and Izuku is sure that if Shouto stands he'll get a nosebleed, because that defined vee, he can't take it. So he whips his head back around and finds that Katsuki is still staring off into space, his mouth is moving, and he's muted.
Ah, he thinks. Eijirou.
Izuku has known Eijirou since high school. He's known him since the day he toppled over on Ochaco and Tenya's table, since Katsuki caught sight of him across the cafeteria and threatened to "blow his fuckin' head off" if he ever showed his face in the hero students' cafeteria again. And Eijirou held Katsuki back, gripped his shoulders tightly and while Izuku has never known someone to calm Katsuki, Eijirou manages to do it; he manages to coax Katsuki away from the scene, redirects him towards another lunch table across the room.
And Izuku doesn't think much of it, until that same redhead bounds up to him in the hall just after lunch and offers a friendly hand, announces his name and affiliation (and his Quirk, his favorite color, his favorite animal, and his favorite season). Izuku remembers his wide, sharp-toothed smile, and he remembers feeling so utterly compelled to smile back. And he remembers Shouto, who bumps into his shoulder now that he and Eijirou are stopped in the middle of the hall, and he remembers that deep, quiet voice uttering a quick apology under his breath and suddenly he needs to know who that boy is.
"Oi," Katsuki calls on the other end. "Izuku."
Izuku shakes his head. "Sorry, sorry," he rubs his neck sheepishly.
"I have to go," Katsuki's saying, like it's his third time repeating it. It probably is. "Emergency call."
"Oh, sure sure!" Izuku nods quickly and waves his hands in front of him. "Go do your hero thing!"
"I'm recording that interview, so don't you dare fuckin' say shit about me."
Izuku laughs, says a quick "Goodbye, Kacchan", and hangs up the phone.
They're interviewing with Baka Broadcasting, which is notorious for its interviewing local heroes. It's probably the biggest broadcasting agency to date, Izuku thinks, recalling the huge YouTube following the company has. Even Izuku's guilty of sitting down and watching 'Best Of' compilations of Baka Broadcasting having heroes come in and answer ludicrous questions, or asking them to join some of the other social media presences – famous bakers, cooks, singers, makeup artists, the list goes on, really – and act like a social media star for a day.
Shouto drives, again. Izuku's tucked his hair behind his ear, he's braided it loosely, he's pulled it into a small bun. He can't decide what he wants to do with it, and finally he settles for combing his fingers through it and letting it hang just over his ears. All while Shouto insists it looks fine, that he looks fine, that he looks good. They pull up to the side door of the building, protected by a gate and a man with a metal detector Quirk. They continue by foot while another man takes their car and parks it, up the steps to the side door.
They match each other almost perfectly. It's Shouto's doing, with the excuse that he's interviewed with heroes before and Baka Broadcasting prefers if the interviewees match, at least a little. Shouto wears black slacks with a red jacket, a white under shirt, and a black tie; Izuku – Loverman – wears white slacks with a red jacket, black under shirt, and white tie. Izuku's hair is black today, after much deliberation, and now that he's opted to leave it down he can't help but rake his fingers nervously through it.
They're greeted at the door by an employee in a pink cuffed shirt and gray slacks. He leads them down a hall, and he moves swiftly; it's like he isn't even phased by his company, which Izuku doesn't know why he expects him to be. This man probably has met all the pro heroes, their sidekicks, hell, some of their families even. And Shouto has a decently easy time keeping up, probably because he's ready for it. Izuku would be lying if he said he hadn't watched every single Shouto compilation that exists on the internet, most of which originating from Baka Broadcasting.
They end up in an elevator when the man in pink finally stops and turns to them. He hands each of them a badge with the word 'VISITOR' clearly printed in all caps and bold lettering. "Sign these," he says, draws a pen from his pocket and hands it over. Izuku looks to Shouto, confused, but Shouto's already signing his badge. As he puts the pen in Izuku's hand he blanks, then smiles.
"Oh, right," Shouto says, as if he's just realized something. "You've never been here before, have you, Loverman?"
It sounds fake. It sounds like the hero voice Shouto uses the second they step out of his apartment, the second they leave that twenty-four hour diner that's becoming dangerous to eat at because the paparazzi has begun to predict them. It's that voice that screams professional, that screams I'm an employee now. I'm a bodyguard now. And Izuku thinks, vaguely, he may hate having Shouto as a bodyguard for that very reason. Still, he swallows down that burn of anger and forces a smile. "Yes," he says softly.
"We've reached out before," the man in pink says, and he almost sounds irritated. "Your PR agent in the past has been a bit of a pain."
"My…" Izuku looks over at Shouto, but Shouto shrugs, voicing his own confusion. "I didn't have a PR agent," he says softly.
The man hums. "Well, no matter." He gestures to the badge in Izuku's hand, to the pen still in Shouto's where Izuku has yet to take it from. "My Quirk allows me to bond items that have been signed," he explains. "This way I can bond your Visitor badges with the proper doors, ensuring that just you and the interviewer and camera crew are in the room."
"How cool!" Izuku chirps, takes the pen from Shouto's hand and scrawls Mr. Loverman across the side.
"I—ah, hate to be picky," the man says, "but stage names don't really…they don't really work."
A bundle of nerves tightens in Izuku's chest, and he can feel his heart sink just momentarily. He can't tell this stranger his secret identity. He can't, he can't he can't he can't, what if this is all just a ploy? What if he goes home and searches Izuku's name and somehow finds the building he lives in or, or worse, finds that he's unregistered in the Quirk's system? That he's been named Quirkless since kindergarten, that he has no business wearing this stupid black wig and these stupid blue contacts and—
"Loverman," Shouto rests a hand on his shoulder, and Izuku is swept back into the present with all the grace of a dust bunny of nerves being brushed under a rug. "He said he doesn't need to see it. He won't know."
Izuku pales for a moment, looks between the two of them. The man in pink directs his attention forward at the unmoving elevator doors and nods his head. "I respect secrecy," he says, soft and most certainly unlike the annoyance he displayed just a few moments prior. "My apologies if I've made you uncomfortable, Mr. Loverman."
"It's—it's okay," Izuku manages, between his choked breath and tightened throat. Shouto keeps his hand on Izuku's shoulder, even steps a bit between Izuku and the other man in the elevator so Izuku can sign his full name on the badge. And he does, just as the elevator stops at their floor, and the man in pink steps off, strides that same swift walk down the hall. He turns a corner and another before Izuku manages to catch his feet in balance, steadying himself for the rest of their brisk walk to the doors. And when they step in front Izuku looks up at them, intimidated by the way they stretch nearly to the ceiling, opaque glass obscuring his view of the other side.
Shouto nudges his shoulder gently. "Are you ready?" he asks, and Izuku can only huff a sigh and force a nod. His face sets and he's determined; he's determined to make a good appearance, to put himself into Loverman's shoes for just the hour or so that this interview is going to last. And Shouto smiles at him, that faint upturn of lips that Izuku's learned to recognize as a smile and not a neutral expression, and the nerves within him dissipate like dust scattering in the breeze. He feels uncluttered, clean, standing next to Shouto like this.
The man in pink holds his palm to the door for a moment, and though Izuku can't see anything happen, he directs them to open the door. They step inside and Izuku is immediately reminded of the professionalism of this interview; there are lights positioned in nearly every angle, three camera people on standby, and a loveseat set up across from two chairs. In one of the chairs is a younger woman whom Izuku recognizes to be one of the leading interviewers for Baka Broadcasting. Mona, if he remembers correctly, with blonde hair and the slightest hint of an American accent. She looks up when the door closes, heavy and thudding, and she smiles. Her eyes crinkle at the sides and immediately Izuku feels at ease.
"Her Quirk makes people relax when she smiles," Shouto murmurs over to Izuku, and he does sound audibly relaxed, himself. "Pretty handy for an interviewer."
"Mm," Izuku hums his agreement. And they approach the loveseat together, arms brushing casually as they go.
Mona stands to greet them when they get close. "It's so nice to be the first to officially interview Mr. Loverman," she coos, that smile making a reappearance. Izuku finds himself smiling back.
"I was told my nonexistent PR agent has been rejecting calls," Izuku responds with ease, digs his Loverman personality back out of his mental storage. It's tricky without a piano to entice him, but he manages.
They don't have much time before the interview starts – Mona asks one or two questions then asks them to sit at the loveseat, points them towards the main camera and then the lights are setting and they're rolling.
"Welcome back everyone!" Mona chirps, flashes her smile to the camera. "This is Mona from Baka Broadcasting live with number four pro hero Shouto, and his new employer, Mr. Loverman!"
It's easy, Izuku finds. It's easy to sit here and pretend. Because with these lights on him, it almost feels like the stage lights, and with Shouto next to him it really does start to feel like a gig. Rather, instead of playing his piano he's playing his voice (the analogy doesn't make much sense in his head but he goes with it); he's projecting his thoughts out onto the world through a new medium. And it isn't so bad, he even finds it easy to smile at the camera the way Mona does. Shouto smiles next to him, and their eyes resettle on Mona as she asks the first question.
"So, we're all dying to know," she coos in that interviewer-type voice, "how long have you been playing piano, Mr. Loverman?"
Izuku laughs; he's expecting a question regarding his and Shouto's relationship from the start. But he's relieved, and it shows in his airy grin. "Twenty years," he states proudly. "I started lessons just after kindergarten."
"Were you a natural?"
"Honestly, not one bit," Izuku relaxes into the loveseat. Shouto mimics the action as Mona casts another smile their way, then towards the camera. Izuku reminds himself to look up at the camera for a moment, then his eyes refocus on Mona. "I put in a lot of hard work to get to where I am."
"And you're sure your Quirk isn't playing such enchanting music," Mona teases lightheartedly.
"Well, my hair and eyes change color at will," Izuku teases right back, and he feels Shouto's shoulders shake beside him with a blanketed chuckle. Mona laughs, too, warm and bright and it sounds so much more relaxing in person, Izuku thinks.
"So!" she claps her hands together and leans forward, looking towards Shouto now. "Shouto, I've got to know – what made you become Mr. Loverman's bodyguard?"
"Well," Shouto begins, and he sounds even more professional than before, "Katsuki – the number three hero – has been filling that role for a while, and he decided to step down."
"Care to tell us why?"
"Call it ah, a vacation."
Again, Mona bubbles with a light laugh. Izuku feels like he's sinking into the loveseat. "I think the question you're waiting for me to ask is what your relationship status is," she follows, makes sure to flash a bright grin at the both of them. And if Izuku weren't so relaxed, he might have begun to feel suspicious of it.
"I'm his bodyguard," Shouto replies blankly, and though he certainly looks a bit relaxed he sure doesn't seem to sound it. Izuku nearly reaches for his hand and shakes it in an effort to loosen up, but he stops himself.
"Aww," Mona pouts, playful and happy. "Nothing more? Not even friends?"
"We're old friends," Izuku cuts in before Shouto can reply, now. "Sort of," he adds with a gentle giggle.
"Loverman," Shouto says, and Izuku takes it as a warning. He shuts his mouth.
Mona is smiling, too, has found something to latch onto. "We'll get into what kind of old friends these two were after the break," she says with a charming smile to the camera. And the cameraman announces they have a ninety-second break, and while Mona stands and stretches, Shouto turns and brings his face close to Izuku's.
"Be careful," he says, barely above a whisper. "She's trying to get you to say more than you normally would."
Izuku blinks. Is that why his brain feels so cloudy right now? Without Mona's smile in direct force of him, he can feel it – the aftereffects of a manipulation Quirk. And here he's always been a fan of Mona's interviews, always marveled at how her charming personality manages to coax even the most embarrassing secrets from some heroes. It seems Shouto has her figured out, though, because he awaits Izuku's acknowledgement sternly. Izuku gives one short nod, and Mona resumes her place across from them.
"It really is a pleasure to meet you," Mona says with that same smile just as the cameras come back on. Izuku smiles back, but it's more tense than before.
When they begin rolling again, Izuku sits up straighter; he doesn't melt into the loveseat anymore, nor does he feel the urge to spill his and Shouto's history when Mona asks, "So, old friends?"
"I saw Shouto on television during his first sports' festival," Izuku explains through a decently tight-lipped smile. He's being careful now. "I'm pretty sure everyone wanted to be his friend at that point."
Mona laughs and looks towards a blank screen. "Kindaichi, mind showing us a clip?" she asks, looks past one of the side cameras to the man standing behind it, and that man turns his attention to a laptop to his side. A few moments later the screen between them alights with a short clip of Shouto's first sports' festival.
It's wonderful, even now. Shouto's going up against Katsuki; Izuku remembers sitting in the stands next to a few other general studies kids up in the third story of bleachers. He remembers watching for Kacchan, wanting to see how much he'd improved just in the month or two they'd been there, and he remembers recognizing that split head of hair, the boy who knocked into him and Eijirou in the hall that one day. He remembers wondering what his Quirk is, and watching the fight he remembers thinking there was finally someone to contest Katsuki – to put Katsuki in his place. But Shouto loses, the first time. He loses over a sheer difference in will; he only uses his flames in the last moment, and by then it's too late. And Izuku remembers wondering why Shouto would hold such a powerful part of him in, but it clicks into place when he nearly walks into Endeavor in the hall later that evening, reprimanding Shouto for not using his Quirk properly.
The camera shows the fight almost at the same angle that Izuku originally saw it, but it's nothing close to the same. Izuku can't feel the steam of Katsuki's explosions erupting Shouto's walls of ice from here. He can't feel the tension in the air when Shouto finally draws out his fire, when he tries to turn the tables just a bit too late. And Mona seems to voice this exact concern. "Shouto didn't win this fight," she says idly. "Why this one, and not his impressive win his second year?"
"That's like asking my audience if they'd still support me if I made a mistake during my set," Izuku replies with a shrug, and Mona pauses for a second. Shouto glances at him, and he can tell that even Shouto is surprised, though he doesn't know why. Shouto is amazing. Is he the only one who sees that? It doesn't matter if ultimately he lost; he was amazing.
Mona clears her throat and suddenly the atmosphere feels awkward, like Izuku has taken a misstep in what he's just said. But he holds his ground – he will not crumble. He will not be forced to admit something he doesn't believe, that okay, maybe he wanted to be Shouto's friend after the second sports' festival because people need to win in order to be cherished. He has spent too much of his life believing he needs to be on top to deserve love, and all of it would be for naught if he makes someone else believe it because of a stupid lie he doesn't believe himself.
"So, Shouto…" Mona turns her attention to Shouto, and Izuku sighs, quiet and distracted. He's tired. They've only been at this for maybe a half hour but already he wants to leave, he wants to go to that stupid diner and slump down in their special booth and have a hot cocoa and a strawberry milkshake placed in front of them without even ordering because the woman working there knows them so well. He wants to go home, to wash his face and brush his teeth and strip off the wig and the contacts and go to bed and not wake up until his next gig. And rinse and repeat, and rinse and repeat.
He wants to not be Loverman.
The thought strikes him. It's a baseball bat to the ribs that whaps him once, then again when it believes it didn't hit Izuku hard enough the first time. Izuku recoils, tries to steady himself, and he just thinks, a pitiful plea to his subconscious, not here, please not here. He doesn't want to have an existential crisis while they're being taped, that's really terrible for posterity.
Shouto notices immediately in the way Izuku slouches into the furniture, the way his breath is just slightly louder like he's hiding how laborious it is. Mona, luckily, doesn't notice, and so Shouto calls for a commercial break. The camera men say it's coming up in thirty seconds, but Shouto doesn't wait for it; he grabs Izuku's wrist and pulls him away, and Izuku can only let Shouto's feet do the work in dragging him to the far corner of the room, stepping between Izuku and the cameras. And Izuku can only smile, weak and not quite there, in thanks.
"What's going on," Shouto asks, and his stern voice is melting into his voice of concern, and Izuku focuses on the tension bleeding away from Shouto as it absorbs into him, the thought ricocheting in his head on hyperdrive – I don't want to be Loverman I don't want to be Loverman I—
"Don't wanna be Loverman," he whispers, desperate and soft and barely a whimper of pain, but something else as well, something more tangible. It's the elevator ride that did it, he thinks, signing his name as Mr. Loverman as if it were his, as if he had the right to protect himself through a Quirk that doesn't exist. And he's rubbing his temples, he can feel the stress building up and threatening to escape, ready to pop like a marshmallow in the microwave that just won't stop expanding, and he whimpers again and Shouto's arms wrap around him. He can hear the distant chatter of the camera crew, discussing how to continue with Mona, and he feels guilty for halting the show.
"Izuku," Shouto whispers down in Izuku's ear, close enough that he's certain he's the only one who heard, and the name off Shouto's tongue feels like a tremor rocking through him. Like it's knocking all his loose thoughts into place, setting them back on the cluttered shelves of his messy brain and sweeping those dust bunnies back under the rugs, and his pulse races with Shouto's arms around him but it no longer feels like a death drum. He calms quickly, just as quickly as this began, and his forehead meets Shouto's shoulder while he chokes back a sob. It comes out broken, barely audible, and Shouto only holds him tighter.
"Is everything okay?" Izuku hears Mona's tentative voice cross the room, and he tries to push himself out of Shouto's embrace, away, all he needs is to be away for a minute and it'll all be alright, but Shouto holds him in place.
"Can you give us a minute?" Shouto replies coolly, and Izuku can feel his words rumbling through him, being so close, oh god they're so close. But then Mona gives an affirmative and Shouto draws back, instead grabs Izuku's shoulders and squeezes and pushes him away to get a look at his face.
"I'm sorry," Izuku blurts, because it feels like the only thing he can say right now. That he's sorry, for screwing up a simple interview. He's just answering questions, for god's sake. He should be okay, he should be sitting on that couch and acting just fine and—
"Don't apologize," Shouto says, and his voice is stern, but it isn't cold. It's serious, but not painful. He's not reprimanding Izuku, not chastising him like the child he is; no, he's reassuring him. "Just, please, tell me what you meant."
It takes a moment for Izuku to recollect his thoughts, to sort back through them now that Shouto has so neatly cleaned them away on the shelves. It feels like when he was younger, and his mother would clean the dirty laundry and various books and other clutter off his floor while he was at school, and he'd come home and be unable to find anything even though the room was perfectly spotless. But oh, there it is, tucked in a neat little shoebox at the very back of Izuku's mind, just sitting there and rotting, the stench so overwhelming that Izuku dares not go near it. But, well, he supposes he has to air his mind someday.
"I…don't want to be Loverman. Not right now," he whispers, as if saying what he's thinking quieter will somehow make what he's said any less ridiculous. He knows he can't just go sit in front of the camera as Izuku and pretend everything's fine – and he also knows he can't disappoint Shouto, or Mona, or their fans watching this interview. Their fans. Loverman and Shouto's shared fans.
"Then be yourself," Shouto says back, his voice gentle and reassuring and still somehow Shouto, with the undertones of sternness and a slight chill that follows them, and none of it is uncomfortable. It feels so familiar now, to Izuku, and even the chilly afterthought that chases his words after they escape him feels warm. The way a breeze in early spring still feels chilly, but a bit warmer than the winter around them.
"I-I," Izuku stammers, he hates when he stammers, he's Loverman, he shouldn't stammer, "I can't! I'm—"
"You're Midoriya Izuku," Shouto says, drops his voice again so only Izuku can hear it, like it's some secret. Izuku realizes it's because it is. His angry, spiraling thoughts halt for a moment while he tries to piece together what Shouto is getting at here. "Above all, that's who you are," he continues, leaves Izuku with his jaw dropped just slightly enough to feel the chill of Shouto's breath drift over his lips. He realizes, then, how close they are; it's because Shouto's leaned down, just a bit, with the secret of Izuku's name on his tongue.
That's all it is, and for some reason, Izuku feels all of his internal ramblings topple on themselves and abruptly stop, all to make sure his mind isn't distracting him from the horrible sinking feeling of his heart dropping to his stomach.
He knows Shouto is awaiting a response from him, but he cannot supply one; his mouth has stopped functioning properly, his lips opening and closing like a fish gasping for water. And so Shouto speaks again, after a sigh that's heavy with an emotion Izuku can only guess is annoyance, now. "What I'm saying is that your appearance doesn't define your personality," he says coolly, and god, even when he's annoyed his voice still is reassuring, and Izuku knows he has it bad.
"Right," his voice is a mix between a squeak and a whisper, and it sounds foreign. Vaguely like how a mouse might sound on a cartoon. The thought would have made him laugh, if he didn't feel so…worn out.
"The interview is another fifteen minutes," Shouto says softly, and he tears his eyes from Izuku's to look up at Mona, who is now improvising with the audience by showing some of Shouto's other hero clips as well as a few fan-recorded Loverman clips. "I can keep the questions away from you, or we can say fuck it and go get dinner. It's up to you."
Izuku exhales, claps his hands to his cheeks and nods his head. He can do this. He can do this. Loverman hasn't swallowed him. Loverman is him, just another side; two sides of the same coin. And Shouto nods back, and he offers the elbow of his warm side to Izuku as they head back to the couch.