5 YEARS LATER, DECEMBER

Izuku woke up feeling like death. He probably came pretty close, considering the tell-tale beeping of hospital equipment. He opened his eyes to find one obstructed by gauze. Most of the left side of his face and torso were covered in bandages, actually.

He vaguely remembered the villain who put him there, a bulky man with grey skin and a shock of yellow hair. Izuku hadn't known what kind of Quirk he was dealing with until it was too late. Jagged spikes flared up on the man's back, roughly the length of his arm. They looked almost icy, but Izuku became intimately acquainted with the spike as the man pulled on off his back and promptly slashed a deep cut down the length of his face, neck, and torso. It was diamond, or something like it—light, agile, unbreakable. It should've been deadly. He would have to thank his partner—she was probably the reason he was still alive.

"Hey, you're up. How are you feeling?"

"Stupid." Izuku's voice was a throaty croak. How long had he been out? How many days of work had he missed?

"I meant bodily," Shindo said, allowing himself a chuckle despite where they were.

"Nothing healers can't fix," Izuku said bitterly. He was starting to stew in his own self-hatred. He was thinking of the PR nightmare he no doubt had waiting for him. This was his first real close call on the job. He wondered if he even had a job waiting for him when he was up and running again. His agency was already on the fence about employing a Quirkless hero, now they had a reason to fear—a reason to terminate his contract.

"Even wrapped up in gauze, I know that look. Don't start," Shindo warned, placing a light hand on the portion of his hair that wasn't tamped down in bandages.

"This is going to cost me everything I've worked for. You know what everyone's going to say."

"Sakura told me it couldn't be prevented. She's pretty cut up too."

It must've been really bad if his partner, Sakura, couldn't keep the villain at bay.

"Sakura has a Quirk. A really strong one, at that. She's probably only hurt because she was trying to keep me alive." The monster inside Izuku, the one that hated every aspect of him, the one that called him Deku, and relentlessly tore him down, was elated. It loved having a reason to hate him, to poke and prod at all his sensitive spots.

"UA's been calling you," he said, trying for a subject change. He knew Izuku well enough to know that nothing could bring him out of beating himself up. It just had to pass.

"Probably to rescind the professorship offer," Izuku muttered. Part of him knew that wasn't true. He'd been meeting with Aizawa and Shinso on and off for nearly five years now, making plans and researching teaching techniques and poring over hero academics dissertations. They finally had enough to present to the academic board and Shinso and Izuku were about as famous as underground Pros could be without jeopardizing their safety. If not for this recent near-death experience, he would say it was the perfect time to jump head first into teaching.

Now, shifting focus to teaching would seem like he was running away, like being a Quirkless hero was too difficult and dangerous. Izuku had so many years left in him—he wanted to be the best hero he could be, given his circumstances.

"You know that's not true," Shindo said softly, his hand moving off his head and finding its way into Izuku's palm under all the IVs and wires. They weren't weird about physical contact—they'd been friends for so long, it just felt natural, but this felt different. For the first time, Izuku noticed how tense and tired Shindo looked, his jaw clenched and shoulders rigid. His handsome face seemed to sag and he had bags under his eyes.

"How long have I been here?"

"Almost a week now," he said and heaved a long sigh, some of the tension in his posture going out with the exhale, "You scared me."

"I'm sorry." Izuku did his best to squeeze Shindo's hand.

"Save it for your mom. She literally said I'm gonna kill him once I know for sure he's not dying." Shindo's impression of his mom's voice was pretty accurate, and it made him laugh despite the fact that doing so made him hurt all over.

"Where is she?" Usually when he got hurt she was the first face he saw.

"Getting coffee. She's been sleeping here," Shindo said. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he'd spent some time sleeping there as well. Guilt twisted his stomach and Shindo saw it written on his face. He squeezed his hand and leaned close to meet Izuku's eye level.

"Don't feel guilty because people love you, dummy."

He was so close, and Izuku was feeling his mortality, and no one in his life made him feel as alive as Shindo did. So he pulled him closer, seeking a kind of comfort he had little experience with. Their lips met, chaste and closed-mouthed—mostly because Izuku couldn't open his mouth if he wanted to, he could feel stitches pulling at his cheek every time he spoke. Shindo didn't seem to mind once he got over the shock of being grabbed. He kissed him again and again and again until he heard his mom on the other side of the door.

FEBRUARY

It was another five years before Katsuki saw Izuku again, and it was seldom that he ever thought of his estranged childhood friend. Then there he was, on some late night hero news show where a panel of five fuckwits talk a lot about shit they don't know. He stared at the TV marveling at the difference 5 years made. Deku was even more muscular, his hair cropped close to his head, and he had a gnarly scar that started at his temple, spanned across his left cheek, cutting a slash on the corner of his mouth, and continuing down his neck into the collar of his uniform. Katsuki wondered how far it kept going. He wondered how he got it and how long it put him off hero work. He knew the idiot would get himself hurt. The banner on the screen read "Pro Hero Quirkless to Make Career Change."

Katsuki cranked the volume. The host—the only recurring panel member every week—was a smarmy looking guy with sparkling blue skin and fangs. He addressed his panel, which for once included four people Katsuki had actually heard of: a comedian who always wore a full face mask who only went by the name Sen, Present Mic, Ashido Mina (better know by her hero name, Pinky) and fucking Shindo Yo (Pro Hero Quake) This show didn't usually include so many heroes in one panel.

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Of course, Ashido would go on this show. She was such a ham—most of her income came from guest TV appearances. Present Mic was no surprise either. He'd go on any show as long as he could promote his radio show. Shindo was probably in the middle of a popularity downturn, and since he's just barely a top 20 hero his management team set him up with this subpar gig. Pathetic.

The host finished introducing the panel and dove into the news clips about Deku.

"Pro Hero Quirkless recently announced his plans to accept a teaching position at UA, the first step in a bigger plan to reform heroics education starting with the top tier hero school alongside underground heroes Eraserhead and Control Freak. All three heroes beat the odds when they transferred from General Studies into the Heroics courses. Quirkless has been very open about his desire to change not just the education system, but society as a whole when it comes to Quirk discrimination."

"As a UA teacher I fully support it. There are so many kids with potential that slip through the cracks because of the way Heroics is structured. I think this is the beginning of a new era," Present Mic said, entirely too tame and kind for the kind of show he was on. It was the host's job to stir the pot, so he said, "He's about to be the least experienced teacher at UA. He's only got, what, four or five years as a pro under his belt? He's never had his own agency and he's stayed out of the more densely populated cities. There's so many problems with throwing him into a teaching position this early in his career."

"And there's that recent injury. That sidelined him for almost a month."

"He's got so much passion though. Izu—Uh, Quirkless works ten times harder than anyone else in the game to get where he is and it shows," Quake said.

Did he just call Deku by his first name?

"Did you just name drop?" Pinky asked, both hands braced on the table as she leaned into Shindo's personal space.

Shindo cleared his throat. "We went to Ketsubutsu together. We're good friends."

Pinky squealed the way she did when she sensed gossip. The video changed from the recent press conference to a series of photos with a bunch of high school kids. He didn't have the scar yet, but his hair was shorter. They all wore the same shirt. It said "be a hero: speak out against bullying." Katsuki rankled at the shameless popularity ploy. Katsuki hated that shit. He rolled his eyes and spoke into the void, "Can't win against a villain so you make your money posing for pictures, huh?"

Ashido—another fan of shameless popularity ploys—felt differently though. Big surprise.

"God, he's cute. How can someone so buff be that adorable?" Pinky said to no one in particular. The host ignored her in favor of continue with the news blurb.

"Quirkless is an advocate against bullying. Last year he started a youth outreach program in schools nationwide, the Alliance Against Bullying. It strives to connect students, teachers, and heroes with the resources and materials to properly identify and address bullying, and to provide counseling and safe spaces for people to share their experiences. He's been very honest about his own experiences with bullying."

"Who would bully that beefcake?" Pinky seemed on the verge of mutiny. She was milking this 30 minute show for all it was worth.

"Bullying," Katsuki said the word slowly, like he was testing the word. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Shindo made a face but stayed quiet. Sen cackled, "I'm sure he didn't fall out the womb looking like that. Bet he was a huge nerd."

Katsuki was nodding his assent with Sen's comment without realizing he was doing it.

Just as they said that the screen behind them changed to Deku's middle school photo. He looked like a deer in headlights. Katsuki would never admit it but this is what Deku would always look like to him. When he thought of Deku, he thought of the scrawny, stuttering kid he grew up with. Not a… beefcake.

"He's precious! I want to fold him up and put him in my pocket," Pinky gushed. Shindo looked like he was constipated, or maybe that was fondness. Either way it was disgusting.

"Jesus, I would bully him too," Sen said flippantly. Shindo glared at the masked comedian and Present Mic looked like he didn't want to be on the show anymore. The host guffawed, probably happy for some confrontation. It had to be hard to talk shit about a hero with a pristine public persona. He was likely grasping at straws. Heroes weren't cut out for this kind of show. Most of them either lacked the backbone to be harsh, or they lacked the will to play along with the silly premise of the show. That's why they usually only let one on the panel at a time. Civilians guaranteed maximum chaos.

The footage changed to a video—probably the same day as all the pictures, he was in the same shirt—of Deku onstage in what was probably a high school auditorium. He could see that earthquake bastard in the background and Katsuki was instantly irked.

"Quake, is that you?" Pinky asked Shindo. Suddenly, Deku's voice was coming out of his television. Katsuki felt an odd urge to mute it and hide under the coffee table. He resolutely ignored it.

"'When I was four, I was the only kid in my school who didn't manifest a Quirk. I was already quiet and sensitive—I was already kind of weird.'"—Deku gave a wet laugh, a crybaby through and through—"'Suddenly, I was other on top of all that.'"—the recording cut what was probably an overlong speech, knowing rambling Deku, to hit the highlights. His face was splotchy and wet from crying but his voice was stronger—"'So many people knew and so many people ignored it and I was too scared to stand up for myself. I'm here to say to every person who's struggling with their self-worth that I care about you. Bottom line: Quirkless or not, weird or not, no one deserves to be physically or emotionally abused by their peers.'"

Katsuki should've listened to his gut and muted the TV and hid under the coffee table.

Was Deku really that bent out of shape about his childhood? Did he really consider Katsuki a bully? Suddenly their fights the last few times they saw each other made much more sense.

Friends don't treat each other the way you treated me.

Truthfully, Katsuki hardly remembered the way he treated Deku. They were just kids. It didn't mean anything and in Katsuki's mind they hardly interacted once they were in middle school. They just grew apart. Katsuki was destined for greatness and Deku… just wasn't. Right?

I'm here because I didn't listen to you.

Katsuki couldn't say he related to that on any level. He'd never been told he couldn't do something. The second his Quirk manifested everyone raised him up, applauded him, encouraged him to become the hero he always wanted to be. He never thought how much it must've hurt Deku to be told his dreams weren't possible.

The video ended when Deku walked toward the back of the stage. It cut off at the exact moment dumbass Shindo enveloped an emotional Deku in a hug.

"Question: is it fair for him to be on this panel when he's —beep-ing the hero in question?" It wasn't hard to figure out what swear word was blanked out. Sen pointed at a very red-faced Shindo. Pinky screamed. Katsuki choked.

"Do you hear that?" Pinky cupped a hand around her ear dramatically. "That's the sound of a thousand fangirls crying over the loss of Quake and Quirkless. What a devastating blow to the fandom!"

"And a thousand perverts beep-ing in their pants. How much erotic Fanfiction is being written right this moment?" Sen smacked the table with a fist, doubled over in laughter.

"I'm—Wha—!" Shindo finally rebooted and attempted to defend himself.

"All I heard was Quake's soul leaving his body," the host said, snickering at Shindo's expense.

"You heard it here first folks, Quakeless is canon."

"Hashtag Q Squared. That's your thing, right?"

"What the everloving fuck is going on?" Katsuki murmured, both horrified and pissed off and confused because this was a lot of information to take in so suddenly. Ashido continued squealing and cackling while Katsuki grappled with these unexpected revelations. The host was laughing too hard to speak, so he rolled the rest of the footage.

"Quirkless, who remains the only Quirkless person to be accepted into a heroics program, cracked the top 30 in the latest hero rankings, but remains as humble as ever."

The next clip was from what he assumed were the most recent rank unveiling events that happened a few months ago. Deku was in a suit and his hair was gelled. It was bizarre to see him looking so grown up. Katsuki wondered if he looked as different to Deku as Deku did to him. He wondered if Deku even followed his career—his was much harder to avoid in the news as a top 10 pro.

"'I'm honored to be considered a popular hero. Ultimately, the rankings are just a number. It doesn't matter if I'm number 1 or number 1000, I'm going to keep working to make Japan a safer place.'" Deku, in his slim fitting suit and red bow tie, spoke to a crowd of reporters, the top 50 heroes listed behind him.

"Only a loser who knows they'll never be number one would say that," Katsuki said. It was not lost on him that he was being highly critical for a person who was positively glued to his TV talking to himself.

"Wow, honestly? What a catch. Quake is so lucky."

"I'm not—!" Shindo tried again, but Sen cut him off with a very deadpan delivery, "Quirkless beep-s."

"I really thought I was coming on here to talk about education reform…" Present Mic said to no one, looking off far in the distance—probably looking for the exit.

Katsuki hardly slept that night. He tried to. He really did, but he couldn't get that stupid show and all the things he learned about his childhood friend—victim?—out of his head. He was plagued by all the things he knew and all the things he didn't. He simultaneously wanted to know more and less of Deku, or maybe he just wanted to know the things most people didn't. Were there things the public didn't know? There had to be. Privacy was hard to come by in their careers but Katsuki managed to keep his life almost completely out of the headlines—and he was way more popular than stupid Deku.

When Katsuki couldn't take staring at the ceiling anymore he unearthed his laptop—he hadn't used it for something not work related in literal years—and opened his browser. Nervously sweating nitroglycerin, he slowly typed pro hero quirkless in the search bar. He felt like he was committing a crime. Anxious and unsure, his finger hovered over the enter button.

Don't be a fucking coward, he thought, jabbing the button with excessive force. The page loaded in less than a second pulling up thousands of articles and links and photos. A majority of them were about the UA teaching position or opinion pieces about his recent top 30 status. He scrolled past those until one title caught his eye. 19 Things You Probably Don't Know About Quirkless.

Deku's words echoed in the back of his skull again. No offense, but you don't know who I am.

He clicked on the article. It was no hard-hitting journalistic piece about Deku. It was just some fluffy list article about bullshit Katsuki actually did know; like that his favorite color was red, not green, that his favorite thing to eat was katsudon, and that "he's a total mama's boy." The photo under that fact was a side by side of two photos. One was from his days at Ketsubutsu, judging from the uniform. He still looked the way Katsuki remembered him except with a little more muscle. Tiny Deku with his mom behind him, her arms draped over his shoulders, both of them with fond smiles pointed at the camera. The picture beside it was more recent, but before the scar. Deku with his close-cropped haircut in his hero costume embracing his mom in the same way she had in the previous picture. She was a little more wrinkled with some greys in her long green hair, but for the most part she looked the same. It was from the "officialquirkless" Winstagram page, like most of the other pictures in the article. The caption read, "Happy Mother's Day to a real hero! #mamasboy #babyquirkless #anyonecanbeahero."

His chest hurt at the look of pure and weepy affection on Midoriya Inko's face. Katsuki wondered if Deku ran his own social media pages. Add that to the list of things Katsuki didn't know.

He scrolled down looking for lesser known information, but ultimately ended up stopping to stare at another Winstagram post under "He's super modest!"

This time it was a post by "proheroquake." It was a ten second video of Deku—looking like an absolute fucking tomato he was so red in the face—in Quake's hero costume, but it was clearly a cheap Halloween store knock off. He was obviously trying to cover himself up in Quake's skimpy, ill-fitting costume. In an embarrassing squeal, Deku said, "I'm basically naked!"

His voice cracked on the word naked and Shindo could be heard behind the camera cackling while zooming in on Deku's scantily-clad ass. Katsuki bristled with unfounded jealousy. The caption said, "Poor officialquirkless lost a bet. Come ogle his abs at #HeroCon this weekend! #bootyshorts # #Qsquared #fanservice."

Katsuki rolled his eyes so hard at "#Qsquared" he swore he could see his brain. He was about to give up entirely on the bullshit article because any dipshit with half a brain and a Winstagram account would probably be able to figure these things out about Deku, and then he saw his name. The last fact said, "He saved Ground Zero!"

For once, the accompanying picture wasn't a Winstagram post. It was a hero news archive video of Katsuki flailing inside the sludge villain from nearly a decade ago. It wasn't a close up by any means, but Katsuki could see the terror in his own eyes as he gasped for air and only breathed in suffocating, putrid liquid. And then there was tiny, Quirkless Deku running headlong into danger while the rest of the pros stood and watched. He hurled his backpack at the sludge villain's eyes, and Katsuki came up for air. In real life, Katsuki released the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

He'd never seen footage of that day. He was so pissed off about needing to be saved he just wanted to forget it ever happened. He never thanked Deku and all the pro's at the scene yelled at him for being reckless. And that was the last time he saw Deku before he moved away.

It was slowly becoming clear to Katsuki that he had a lot to be sorry for when it came to Deku.

Three days.

Three days of hardly sleeping because he was stalking Deku on every social media platform. Katsuki was horrified to find that he—and by he, he meant the PR agent he paid to run GZ_official—already followed Deku's (and fucking Shindo's) Winstagram and Tweeter accounts.

He found that most every post by Deku was already liked and he'd come to the conclusion that Deku probably personally managed all of his accounts. It was all so personal. Most of Katsuki's lame ass posts was footage of him taking down villains, or candid shots of him and various members of #bakusquad with bullshit captions like "Plus Ultra" or just links to his merch site. What the fuck.

Deku, on the other hand, posted almost every day—where did he find the time?—and every post was a window into his life. There were pictures of his pets—a dog and a hamster—pictures of his mom, his fans, his friends. Deku had so many friends, both heroes and civilians alike. He found that he knew both Uraraka and Iida because they commented on almost all of his pictures. He posted a lot photos of the three of them too. On Uraraka's birthday last year, he posted a picture of them in a dojo. They looked tired and sweaty but they smiled for the camera anyway, holding up peace signs. "Happy birthday to my favorite UA grad ultra_uravity ! #gunheadmartialarts #plusultra."

How was it that, in all these years, Deku was so close to Katsuki's life, but never part of it? How many of his old classmates did he know? They existed in the same orbit, but never got around to each other. That left him wanting.

No matter how many friends Deku had, there was no doubt that Quake was his closest. He was in every other post, all tagged #Qsquared. Katsuki wanted to rip that stupid hashtag off the screen and punt it into the sun—but only after looking at damn near every post. Most of them were fan photos at conventions or charity events. You'd think they were a damn duo the way they were always together. No wonder everyone thought they were dating—were they dating?

Katsuki cared more than he should. More than he had a right to apparently. He hadn't seen Deku in five years, and that last meeting was disastrous, but something under Katsuki's skin itched to see him again. Deku was like a comet streaking across the sky. He lit up everything around him and Katsuki had no choice but to look and take it all in and memorize it because comets didn't come around that often. Maybe it would never come around again.

That didn't stop Katsuki from trying, though. On his day off, he discovered Deku's cell phone number in his contact list. For two hours, he stared at the number, talking himself in and out of calling.

Surely, that's not still his number.

Katsuki's number was the same, why couldn't Deku's be?

What would I even say?

Sorry would be a good start, but Katsuki had never apologized for anything in his life. Could he even verbalize that?

"Sorry." He tested the word, felt his tongue curl around it. It sounded weird and wrong and like he wanted to suck the word back between his teeth and swallow it. What did sorry even mean? In the end, it was just a word. What would a single word do for him and Deku? Katsuki was a man of action. Fuck words.

Before he knew it the phone was ringing, Deku's name rolling across the screen. Katsuki instantly regretting pushing the button. His stomach was in his throat as he waited for Deku to pick up.

"Muh… Hello?" He sounded disoriented, sleepy. At fucking noon?

"Hey." Katsuki's voice came out pinched and nervous. He cleared his throat.

"Who's this?" Deku's voice was distant. Katsuki imagined him holding the phone away from his face to inspect the unknown number on the screen. He tried not to be annoyed that Deku didn't have his number.

"Katsuki."

"Bakugo?" He sounded only marginally more awake with shock.

"Who the hell else? And what are you doing still sleeping at noon, Deku?"

"I work nights," he said, a small sigh sounding through the phone. Katsuki heard rustling bedding.

"Oh. I… didn't know that."

In the following silence Katsuki could practically hear Deku's words from years ago. You don't know who I am.

"What do you want, Kacchan?" Deku sounded exasperated. Katsuki tried really hard not to blow up or call him stupid or be a bully. That word thrummed under his skin in time with his heartbeat. Bully. Bully. Bully.

"I—Congrats on the UA job. My parents want you to come to dinner once you get moved in."

The words flew out of Katsuki's mouth before he could really think about them. What the fuck was he doing?

"Uh, thanks. Is… is that how you got my number? Your parents?" Awkward. Tentative. Like Katsuki was a bomb to defuse. Well… he wasn't wrong.

"I've always had your number," he snapped.

"Right. Well, I guess I'll call your parents when I'm settled."

"You could call me."

"I'll call your parents," Deku said, firm, and then he added, "I'm sure my mom wants to see them too. Is that all?"

There was so much more. But Katsuki didn't know how to say it and make it mean anything. So he said, "Yeah. Call me if you need help moving."

He tried to imagine being tagged in a picture on Deku's Winstagram, but he couldn't even imagine occupying the same space as Deku, let alone anyone wanting to commemorate the event.

"Okay," Deku said, and by his incredulous tone Katsuki knew he would never call him. Deku probably had 20 friends lined up to help him already. Katsuki felt left out, starved for Deku's attention. He'd never wanted anyone's attention before, but then again, he'd never had to ask for attention.

Katsuki fell asleep with his phone in his hand, open to Deku's Tweeter feed. It was a series of posts about the tedium of packing and moving. "Villains are nothing compared to moving halfway across the country #sendhelp."

"Help has arrived! Thanks proheroquake ultra_uravity ingeniumhero"

Deku was draped across three floating boxes, posing for the camera. Uraraka could be seen in the corner of the room doing her signature hero pose. Shindo stood off to the side balancing a floating box on one finger and flexing his biceps. Iida and Deku's mom seemed to actually be working, wrapping breakables in newspaper in the background. Katsuki's stomach lurched when we realized Shindo was wearing Deku's "dress shirt" T-shirt.

— — — — —

Izuku spent the day methodically packing away his things. It was incredible how much junk he collected in the five years he spent in the apartment. It was a run-down hovel, but it was home to him.

"Why is this in your kitchen, of all places?"

His mother held up a bobblehead of Eraserhead that was sitting on the windowsill behind his stove. Izuku laughed, and thought briefly about putting in on the desk in his new office. He wondered how long it would take Aizawa to threaten him to remove it from UA grounds.

"Clearly, I'm no savvy decorator," he said, plucking the bobblehead from her hand.

"You should ask Mitsuki to help you decorate your new apartment," his mom said. She swore by the curtains Mitsuki once picked for their old apartment years ago.

"Speaking of, Kacchan called me," Izuku said, tentatively, like he was telling her an unsolvable riddle. He tripped over the old nickname—it was so foreign to him now, he wondered if he should revert to calling him Bakugo in their few encounters he might have to endure in the future. His mom's big green eyes fixed curiously on his.

"About?"

"He said his parents want me over for dinner again, but I don't really want to go if you're not going."

Inko sighed as she folded another breakable in a hand towel and packed it neatly into a box labeled kitchen. She didn't know much about his past with Bakugo, just that he wasn't the friend she assumed he was. Izuku was sure she made assumptions about them, but Izuku would never definitively say. It would be much more trouble that it was worth. Still, she knew that Bakugo, the Bakugo family as a unit, actually, always tied his stomach in anxious knots.

"Of course, I'll go. I'm surprised he still had your number," she said, placing newspaper between a stack of plates.

"Me too."

"Mitsuki hasn't said anything about it to me. I talked to her last week." She wrinkled her nose, clearly thinking. About what, Izuku couldn't guess.

"It's… going to be weird being in Musutafu again. Especially without you."

"It's part of growing up, baby. I think you'll enjoy a change of pace. You haven't been yourself lately."

"You're right. Maybe I do need some time away."

That was an understatement. Ever since his injury, and the expected fallout from it, Izuku had been angrier than usual. Part of him was always angry, always simmering like a pot just shy of rolling to a boil, but the stress of his dreams were getting to him.

He never thought being a hero, getting everything he wanted in life, would be so taxing. It was a constant uphill battle. As if fighting villains wasn't enough, he was metaphorically fighting heroes and civilians as well. Spite was the only thing keeping him going now. He hoped teaching at UA would help him reconnect to his roots. Maybe seeing all the new prospective heroes will help him see his goals as worthwhile again.

Everything got a little lighter, a little easier once reinforcements arrived. Uraraka and Iida graciously offered to help as soon as Izuku told them he'd be moving to Musutafu. Uraraka made quick work of loading boxes in the moving truck with her Quirk. It was easy to focus on the pleasant give and take of the conversation in the room when everything around him that usually weighed him down was so light.

Shindo was last to arrive, just coming off a patrol to see him off. He'd been weird and fidgety around Izuku ever since he told him it was finally time to her serious about the UA position he'd been sitting on all this time. Or maybe he'd been weird ever since his accident. Or maybe it was the fact that they'd started casually sleeping together.

The fact that all these things happened within a few months of each other probably didn't help.

"I'm gonna miss you," Izuku said. He meant it, truly, but not in the mushy, romantic way. That's just wasn't who they were. Shindo was his biggest supporter, the one who knew him best.

"I've been thinking… maybe I can move a little closer to you. My contract with the agency is almost up and I was gonna start my own soon anyway."

"You know being any closer to the city would be disastrous for you. Your Quirk doesn't mix well with skyscrapers."

"Right. How could I forget that?" He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. Izuku frowned at him.

"Are you okay? You've been all over the place lately," Izuku said, genuine worry in his voice.

Instead of an answer Shindo moved closer, leaning down to catch Izuku's mouth in a kiss that was way too passionate for how close his mom was in the other room. He put a hand on his chest, creating some space between them before he got lost in the kiss.

"What's going on?"

"I love you," he said, urgent and abrupt before pulling Izuku in for another kiss, this time rougher. Shindo's tongue slid lightly across Izuku's bottom lip, asking permission to enter. Izuku pushed him away again. He needed to find his bearings, keep his wits about him. He was unsure of how to navigate the situation.

"Shindo," he started, only to trail off again, at a loss.

"I know it's not the best time to say it. You're leaving and all, but I just needed to get it out there. So you know that I'm going to do everything I can to make this—us—work."

Us. Izuku didn't know there was an us to even consider.

"Nothing's going to change. We're still us," Izuku said, putting his hands on Shindo's shoulders to subtly create more distance between them. Izuku's reply was noncommittal at best, but in his mind the words were true. Nothing had to change because they were friends. They would always be friends. Izuku didn't want anything more with Shindo—with anyone, really. He didn't have time for much more than fumbling romps in the dark and stolen kisses between making sure he ate three times a day and saving people's lives and pretending to be happy on social media so his hero rank wouldn't suffer.