Chapter 2 – Good As Fuck

Thank you all for the amazing feedback and appreciation, all the comments and reviews – it really means a lot to me! So, I've got a new chap for you today and the only way is down… Y'all been warned. This chapter is much darker than the first.

"So that's how we got together." The tremor of his fingers has gotten worse, slowly but surely spreading upwards into his forearms. The only thing he can do is to try to ignore it as he grips his hands together, staring blankly at the oily sheen forming in the officer's cup of cheap machine coffee. "Himiko reached out and... dragged me back. I know it looks like she only meant to use me, but…"

They wouldn't understand anyway.

Afterwards, Izuku sleeps for almost two days, the tension and fatigue of the last hours eventually having hit like a ton of bricks. He wakes up to gentle fingers in his hair and the sight of a room he doesn't know. The gun is gone and so is his uniform jacket, but the phone is still in his back pocket, the screen full of missed call notifications.

"Damn, kid, you only had one smoke."

The student momentarily ignores Himiko, sitting up abruptly and proceeding to stare at the phone in his hand. His mom must be worried sick! He should go home-… wait, no. They robbed a store, so he can't go home! He has absolutely no idea what he should do, but even so-

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go," the boy stutters, pulling away and trying to scramble towards the door. "I think…" Only he doesn't. He still can't think, this time because of the overwhelming panic. God, he's never been in so much trouble! And as usual, he can't even find his words!

"He's so lame, he can't say anything!"

They were right. They were damn right about everything.

"Awww, but I thought you liked me," the blonde pouts in reply with feigned disappointment and mirth obvious in her golden eyes.

Izuku blinks, trying to figure out of what she means. But he's not good with subtleties, not to mention completely clueless when it comes to girls. "B-But I can't stay here! I mean-…" With you. But wait, is that what she's even asking?!

"You can do whatever the fuck you want now. You're a dead man, remember?" Himiko leans in with the same self-assuredness which is seemingly present in everything she does and cups the side of his face with one hand, slowly, rubbing her thumb lazily over the boy's freckles.

"Let me give you the good stuff, you've earned it."

The words alone short-circuit Izuku's brain even before the blonde's lips brush lightly against his mouth, drinking in his shocked gasp, and he is not fully aware of how that actually feels.

Sure, this is an incredible occurrence in itself, but the 'good stuff' Himiko was actually referring to turns out to be way better than the semi-platonic teasing. It's called G.A.F (literally short for 'Good As Fuck') and it comes in nicely colored, non-reusable plastic vials equipped with a needle on one end and a tiny rubber button on the other. Extremely easy to use too, as the blonde demonstrates, pushing his sleeve up and pressing the miniscule needle into his forearm. It barely pricks, but the effect is almost instantaneous and all-powerful. Muscles relax, worries dissipate, all problems fly out the window.

Nothing hurts anymore.

Later that night, when they go out to get some takeout food, he dumps his phone into a trash can.

He does realize he's making a mistake, but then again Izuku is a mistake, his whole being here is wrong on principle. That's why his mother kept apologizing – to him, to the doctor, to the neighbors. She felt that she fucked up, instead of having a normal child. Maybe that's why his father never came back, never bothered to come meet him.

But is all fine now.

He's wearing Himiko's ripped jeans (which fit him better than they do her because 'fuck, I just can't diet long enough'), his white uniform shirt hanging loose and all creased on top and he's let her tame his curls somewhat, with a handful of hair gel. When her mood (and money) is low, Himiko herself is unkempt as fuck, too depressed to even try, but when in high spirits she becomes one hell of a doll, turning more than a few heads. But as they walk down the street the blonde holds his hand in hers, another thing that's unfamiliar but incredibly comforting, just like holding the gun.

Himiko is not quirkless, but her quirk – being able to imitate the appearance of someone if she's drunk their blood – is seemingly pretty much useless when it comes to making money and it 'triggers' her more often than not, so she usually avoids using it. Still, bills are a constant struggle since she lives alone and G.A.F only counts as daily maintenance, to 'keep things afloat' as she puts it. Joints, crack, vodka and JD come extra and they're an important indulgence – when there's cash for them, like now.

Today deserves a celebration and the blonde knows an underground club where the bouncers don't ask for IDs at the door (not that anyone actually needs to see an ID to tell that Izuku is underage). Staring around in awe, he spots a few older kids from his school slumped around a table filled with empty shot glasses, but it's unlikely they'd recognize him even sober. Eh, fuck them anyway.

For a dead man, Izuku feels more alive than ever as vodka burns a fiery trail down his throat and Himiko pulls him to the dance floor. The high has loosened him up enough that their moves sync with ease and it's like he's always had this gorgeous girl's arms around his neck.

The next few days pass in an intoxicated haze, both of them lazing around in the blonde's apartment and up on the roof, enjoying the gentle autumn sun. 'From now on I'll be like your big sister or something' Himiko declares grinning, which would make sense – she's a few years older after all – if not for the vaguely incestuous flavor of their budding relationship slightly contradicting that statement. Because the student is pretty sure that siblings do not blow joint smoke in each other's mouth or kiss with tongue. It doesn't get any further than that though, because 'you're too pure, Izuku. I don't want to mess you up'.

He doesn't mind, not even that Himiko dates other men. But when it happens the first time, it's really bad.

It's past midnight and Izuku has passed out with the TV still on, when a loud noise wakes him abruptly. Was it a scream?! He makes an effort to disentangle from the futon sheets and crawl to the door on all fours, listening intently. The noise comes again, muffled this time, but now it's certain he's not imagining things. The boy gets up on his feet and creeps out of the bedroom to peer towards the living. He takes one step, then another-

The living door opens slowly, revealing a disheveled Himiko, barely dressed in a tight miniskirt and a see-through lacy white bra, stained with blood just like her face and hands. There's some in her loose hair too and behind her hell reigns, a mangled corpse lying twisted in the middle of the crimson-toned nightmare.

Izuku's drug-numbed brain doesn't react at first, but his stomach does instantly, forcing him to make a beeline for the bathroom.

"You know, every single time I tell myself… this is going to work, he's the one. He's gonna treat me well, he won't take me for granted, he won't try to trample all over me like the others," Himiko says, lighting up a joint and leaning against the bathroom doorframe. "But then I'm always wrong. I probably have a really bad hand at picking them… fuck."

With a sigh, she steps over to where Izuku is now sitting slumped with his back against the bathtub, his head tilted backwards over the edge. He's still sick and horribly dizzy.

"And so it ends. The only thing I can do is to at least make sure I'm the last person they've hurt."

Eyes closed, the boy reaches out instinctively, cold fingers meeting his. "D-Did he… hurt you?"

"Eh… nothing I can't patch up…" The blonde's hand squeezes his, thumb rubbing over his knuckles. "I need your help, Izuku."

Some three hours later it's all over and Izuku can finally lie back in the futon he shares with Himiko and her knife. He's exhausted, aching all over from the effort and in desperate need to just sleep and forget everything. Cleaning up was horrible and now they'll need a new carpet too, because the old one was used to wrap the body in. As they painfully carried it down the stairs and through back alleys to a dumpster some two blocks away he kept telling himself it's not real.

It can't be, because he's not feeling anything, he just can't bring himself to give a fuck about the man Himiko killed. He's too numb and that's just perfect.

"Hey…" He's curled up on one side under the sheets and Himiko is snuggled against his bare back, only a thin fabric between their bodies. "Are you okay?"

"…yeah," the boy breathes out sleepily, as the blonde's fingers rest on his upper arm, lightly drawing circles there.

"Izuku, are you afraid?" she asks calmly. The now clean knife is under her pillow, as usual. It would be very easy for her to-

"…no." He's completely honest, too. He's a dead man anyway and he's convinced Himiko would do a swift job too, she wouldn't torment him. No, Himiko will never cause him pain. "I trust you."

Behind him, the blonde snorts, nuzzling her nose in the nape of his neck. "Trust me? How can you trust me after this?"

"I just trust that whatever you decide will be for the best, even if you kill me. You're the only who never hurt me."

For a long moment she remains completely silent, only pressing closer. "I'm really sorry. But now you know why."

"Why what?"

"… why we don't fuck. I don't want it to end like that, you're too precious to me."

Izuku raises his head and briefly meets All Might's gaze across the table, dark, sunken and unreadable. As the drug is finally wearing off, the large green eyes fill with tears he can't wipe off. The only thing he can do is clench his left hand over his right, in a futile attempt to protect the four letters tattooed his knuckles – the only memory of what he's lost.

Himiko Toga.