Chapter 2

Izuku Midoriya had to be one of the best sounding boards in history. There was something genuine about him that made you want to tell him all your problems so he could help you shoulder them. You would expect a pro-hero of his caliber to be someone who would only address actual emergencies, like fighting villains and rescuing babies from a burning building, not be available for the general public like some public relations information desk. However, since Deku was a hero that wanted to help everyone, was always willing to listen, and had been charged with desk duty today, Izuku had spent the better part of his day addressing complaints from all the citizens of Koreria who were willing to bend an ear. God only knows why. Opening up an open forum to the public was like inviting thugs to mug you and steal your money. The man had broken his body over and over the years, for god's sakes. You couldn't argue that the man couldn't take his fair share of punishment.

Case in point, he had been talking to an elderly lady when I stormed in through the doors, all gung-ho and arms swaying with a bag full takeout. At the interruption, his face slipped from his usual attentive gaze to something a bit more panicked, like he was the one who was in trouble, and I was the one leading the charge of vengeful Valkyries to end him. This had not been the first time Izuku had cut his lunchbreaks short. The last time we had met for lunch, he had arrived fifteen minutes late because he had helped save a whole group of construction workers from being crushed by a loose wall structure and had been held up by selfies and autographs afterward because he didn't want anyone to be left out. It was understandable. Izuku was a considerate guy, but it had left me wanting. Seeing his panic, I wished I had come in less guns-a-blazing.

That regret, however, lasted all about five seconds when I recognized the haggard body language on him that Joelle often exhibited when she took on too much in an effort to please everyone, and the self-righteous grandstanding authority of the lady posturing in front of him, and immediately switched tactics. Izuku was considerate, but sometimes he reminded me too much of my sister, someone who was nice to a fault at the expense of themselves. Where were the other heroes? His coworkers? Didn't he have a secretary at the desk? Music something? Why couldn't they clock in so Izuku could enjoy his break?

Waiting for something to happen or for someone else to save him wouldn't achieve anything. I knew that if I didn't cut in now, this woman would tie him up for the whole hour. Which was fine by me. I had no problem playing the bad guy in order to save others. I was already used to people hating me. Utilizing the voice I used with particularly difficult residents, one that oozed saccharine sincerity and politeness, I put on my brightest, customer service smile and chimed in, "Excuse me, ma'am, but Deku is about to go on his lunchbreak. If you would like to come back in an hour, I'm certain he would love to hear your problems in earnest. Even heroes have to eat."

People in Japan was so chronically polite to each other, their first instinct was typically to apologize at the slightest hint of rudeness and then beg the other party for forgiveness second; it was practically encoded into their DNA. I had been counting on that fact to help carry my excuse of interrupting their conversation, but much to my dismay, the woman had taken the latter route and dug her heels in further.

"You expect me to come all the way back here and get in line an hour later?"

There wasn't a line, but I wasn't going to tell her that. "Oh no, of course not. In fact," I pulled out a Deku Hero Agency business card tucked into my billfold and scribbled something on the back with my handmade flower pen and held it out to her. "Here. Take a business card. I'll make a note in the planner that you're scheduled with him at 2pm on the dot. That way you won't have to worry about the wait."

She eyed the card with some skepticism but appeared appeased for the moment. "I most certainly will," she said with an imperious sniff and stalked out of the agency doors. Once I was sure she was far out of earshot, I turned back to the can-do hero who still appeared a bit dazed.

"What on earth was that about?" I asked him. Izuku, who looked like he had just watched a tornado come through, finally snapped back into focus.

"That was Aiko-san. Some people have been spraying graffiti on the gate in front of her house, and she wants whoever has been doing it to be caught."

"Jeez… all that fuss for vandalism? I think people forget that pro-heroes aren't cops. Can't she bother someone else with that, like the police or the homeowner's association? It seems a little extreme to ask a pro-hero to bust someone for spray-painting your house. That's like calling an ambulance because you think it will help you bypass the emergency room, when really, it's just showing up in an expensive uber."

Rather than seem put off or willing to agree with my statement, Izuku just smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting into one of those cute half-smiles full of compassion and understanding. "I think she just wants somebody to listen. This isn't the only time she's come here for help. Aiko tends to show up about once a week to report about something. There aren't a lot of resources this far away from the bigger districts, and I think she just wants to be heard, to know that someone out there cares what she has to say."

"That's so sad… But I get it." So many passionate people grew up into passionate old people, which meant dealing with disgruntled, privileged elders that shouted louder and snapped quicker in order to be taken seriously, like because they had seniority and deteriorating bodies running out of time, it suddenly made everyone else's time less valuable by default. But the more a person shouted, the less likely someone would actually listen and taken seriously. I should know. Many of the residents I worked with were exactly like that. "But still, don't just let anyone push you around. There's being kind and then there's being nice."

"There's a difference?"

"Apparently. Joelle says that being kind is wanting to do good things for others because it makes you feel good, while being nice is catering to other people at the expense of your own wellness. Like one is feeling you have to do something versus actually wanting to do it. You wanting to help Aiko with her problems is being kind. Letting her go on about them with no disregard for your own personal time at the risk of wasting your lunch break is you being nice."

"...I don't think I entirely understand it, but I get your meaning. Your sister is pretty smart."

"Oh yeah, she's wise beyond her years," I admitted and then lightly nudged his side with my elbow. "Now come help me eat this katsudon I brought you. Not to sound like a hypocrite, but I need to voice my own grievances today and neither of us can do this on an empty stomach."

Izuku then gave me a face like 'uh oh.' "I take it the appointment with the psychiatrist didn't go well?"

"No. Thankfully, this is a strictly vent/rant scenario, so I'll try not to completely talk your ear off. I need to leave you some social battery power left for hero work."

"Right… Thank you for that, by the way. I'm not sure when exactly I would have eaten if you hadn't shown up."

"No problem. A growing hero needs his lunch. But first," I held out my arms in a motion of a hug. Izuku hesitated a moment before he moved forward, leaning in until he had his arms wrapped around me. Despite how familiar we were with each other, having been friends online for over a decade, Izuku still had some issues when it came to showing affection in public. Japan wasn't exactly as PDA friendly as the United States, but I figured if I desensitized him to it enough, eventually he'd feel comfortable enough and accept my affection, maybe even initiate some PDA on his own. He had done it a couple of times since we had started dating, like hold hands or hug- hell, we had made out on at least two separate occasions -but those had been highly stressful situations or the result of adrenaline. Maybe one day, if I was lucky, he even would find the courage to tell me he loved me. Someday. Obviously not today. It was still too soon into the relationship to start talking about that, even if we had spent many years pining for each other online. Nope, there had to real time experience points put into this relationship, otherwise it would never level up and be strong enough to defeat the final boss- my mother.

Knowing that, I gave Izuku an extra tight squeeze for luck, one for his rough day of desk duty and then one for myself. Then, because I really needed it, I sank into him and rested my head on his shoulder even after his arms lifted away from my back.

"Wh-What are you d-doing?" Izuku stammered, feeling his shoulder tense as I nuzzled my face into the crook of his neck.

"I need my daily dose of Vitamin Deku..." I mumbled, half-joking as the ticklish sensation with my words reverberated near his skin. I felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and felt a rush of pleasure as I inhaled his minty scent. God, he smelled so good. Why was it that I could go through almost four hours of emotional hell and have this be the thing that helped calm me down? It couldn't just be the peppermint smell. Maybe I was addicted to his pheromones or something...

'I'm addicted to the madness, this hero is my Atlantis-'

The abrupt, invasive thought jumped into my head like most inconvenient things did- unexpectedly and without my permission. It had been a while since the earworm crept back into my head, at least a three-month hiatus, and now that it was back, new song lyrics were being fed inside my head as it shredded and replaced the old earworm as white noise static. Like the song title, the melody was addictive, going hours of listening to the same five minutes of EDM and indie animation. I knew now that it was the product of my brain trying to help stimulate itself for a hit of dopamine, hence the same stimming loop of music, but awareness didn't stop it from happening.

The trick was good when it came to memorizing things. Mom had written song parodies for her students when she had been still teaching, using the songs of "Three Blind Mice" and "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" to help her kids remember their times tables, and then later myself and Joelle. The need for finding patterns and meaning in words was human nature, so now that my brain had latched onto the word, the "Addict" lyrics were twisting into something different, something parodied, and I just laid there and held on for the ride until my brain decided to let go and latch onto into something else.

'I'm addicted to the madness, this hero is my Atlantis,
We're forever gonna have a fucking reason to sin,
Just leave me here to burn where I'll be breathing him in,

I'm addicted to the feeling,
Getting higher than the ceiling,
And I'm never gonna want this fucking feeling to end,
Just concede and give into your inner demons again…'

"Can't you two be gross somewhere else?" The song continued inside my head, but the volume lowered somewhat as my weary haze broke enough to look over and see the disgusted voice belonged to one of Izuku's subordinates. I felt Izuku shift and watched as his neck turned pink, but I refused to move my head from that spot. I was too comfortable and needed to make up for lost time. Eleven years I had gone loving this man, and now I could finally indulge in it a little. Like hell I was going anywhere. Not unless Izuku told me otherwise.

'Girl, you fell in love, but you fell deeper in this pit,
While life slaps you with a glove, just count your blessings 'cause this is it,
You're not letting him go,
So what if I misbehave? It's what everybody craves…'

I winced. That glove part definitely needed to be workshopped, I thought idly as I addressed the gaudy intern in the stiletto heels. "I would have eaten lunch somewhere else, but Izuku's running the office today, and I didn't want him to have to leave his post just to meetup with me."

The haze still hadn't fully cleared as exhaustion kept me from being able to piece her name together. What was her name again? Izuku had just introduced me to her last week when we first started making our lunch dates a regular thing, and I had seen her a couple times since then when I had dropped by his agency on the way home from work. Wasn't it Sparkle something? The Death Note-esque Lolita dress and blonde hair that reminded me so much of Misa-Misa felt like some kind of pneumonic reminder. The two braincells bouncing inside my head misfired like an idle DVD player icon trying to land in the corner of the screen, each moment trying to put the words together. Shiny-shiny… killer… Kira… Kira-Kira! That was it!

"Still, can't you take that somewhere else? You two are so disgustingly cute, it's revolting."

My glare at Kira-Kira darkened from over Izuku's shoulder as her words made him pull away from my protective embrace. "If you've got a problem with it, go somewhere else. No one asked you to gawk at us," I growled and then blurted, "not that you were here when he needed it. Probably couldn't see him with all that hair you've got over your eyes. Can you even see under all those bangs? It's called a 'haircut.'"

"Oh, that's rich coming from the koala bear with the split-ends attached to my boss. Can you not be five feet away from him or do you need him to hold your hand too?"

"Why? You jealous?"

"Hardly. I just think that he might need to actually get some work done today instead of being smothered by an overgrown tree."

"(Bitch)! Okay-" I snapped, feeling my hackles rise as I took a step forward before Izuku jumped between us.

"Alyssa, it's fine. She's just kidding," Izuku placated, his hands up to keep me from throwing mine.

"It's not! She's-" I began, about to lay into to her rudeness and insinuation that he hadn't been working hard, and then I saw Izuku's look of concern and felt shame wash over me. Damn it. I did it again. Fuck! I didn't expect her jabs to trigger me this easily. I didn't mean to be mean and lash out, but there was something irritating about his intern that reminded me of the snobby girls in my high school, the ones that shamed you under the guise of being 'nice and considerate.' Which was probably the last time I had reacted so juvenilely to a good ribbing. There was just something momma-bearish that unlocked inside me anytime I felt like Izuku was being bullied.

Joelle had explained it as something that happened when she had seen Baby Yoda abused by stormtroopers in The Mandalorian. Something irrational and maternal would just take over, and she would just snap. That made sense since the creature was an adorable baby. Women were supposed to be maternal for babies. It was instinctive to protect their young, but I didn't think that feeling applied to real life people instead of fictional characters. It must have been true because I had considered throwing hands with Ground Zero the other day, a Top 11 hero on Japan's Hero Billboard Chart, because of some harsh words he had given to Izuku about being incompetent during what I thought had been our first date, and now I was doing it all over again with his intern. Regardless, Izuku shouldn't be shamed for anything, especially our relationship. It was nobody else's damn business but our own.

'You just don't want him to be embarrassed by you because he might leave you. You're already a freak. If he's embarrassed by you, he won't want to be around you and won't love you anymore…'

I shoved away the intrusive thought and, with some reluctance, moved away from Izuku. "Sorry… sorry, I didn't mean it about your hair, Kira. I'm just tired and hangry, and I'm not great at telling what's a joke or not. You were probably just teasing Deku."

"It's whatever," Kira-Kira shrugged, apparently unbothered by the whole thing as she pulled out an emery board and began filing her nails. "Just don't make out on my desk. I have to do paperwork on that thing and stuff."

"Sure," I said, still not sure if she was kidding or not. God, being in love made me such a basket case. Which, knowing what I knew now, was apparently on brand for me. I'd chalk it up to being infatuated if not for the fact that I've been in love Izuku for years without even know what he looked like. So, this is what it was like to love someone…

Well, fuck.

I needed to get a grip on myself before I accidental took someone's eye out. Or you know, caused Izuku to leave me. God, I hoped I got a good therapist and soon.

"I think it's sweet that they have each other," said Aoyama, the sparkling hero coming to my defense as he and another blonde, a guy I recognized as Denki Kaminari from Ground Ze- Bakugou's birthday party, followed behind him with a box full of paperwork. They must have just got back from their own lunchbreaks.

"Yeah, why do you care so much, K? You never had any complaints when I brought Kyoka over for lunch and tried being affectionate with her," said Kaminari.

"That's because she doesn't let you. She keeps pushing you off her. It's fun for me to watch her torment you."

Kaminari gave Kira-Kira's self-satisfied grin a scrutinized look. "Are you sure you're supposed to be a hero?"

"That's what it says on my resume," she quipped, "Now excuse me while I go check to see how our social media page is going."

"That reminds me," I tugged open my purse and handed Kaminari a five-by-five cardboard box. "Here is the new shipment of revised cards." And because I felt the need to specify, I added, "I didn't order it or anything. I just printed them out and transported them in one of my old cardboard boxes. Just let me know when you need more."

I had designed the first batch for Izuku as a favor almost three weeks ago and now with all the business they were starting to get, they needed another round. This time they had an updated artwork incorporating his hero costume factored in. The front held the lapin outline of Deku's mask and cowl popped on a backdrop of black and pine green inside a comic-book panel, the back a lighter shade of mint green with a Ben Day dot pattern and clearly printed contact details. The lacquered cardstock sparkled under the fluorescent lights as Kaminari flipped around the shiny, green business card.

"You did all these all by yourself?"

"It's no big deal. I've made business cards before. What's another four hundred?"

"Girl, you're crazy."

"I am not. They had tested me for that," I blurted out, the stunned silence so heavy I felt the need to elaborate. "Actually, they tested me for OCD, narcissistic personality disorder, psychopathy, and antisocial personality disorder, but I must have not checked any boxes for them because they never came back in my results."

Another five seconds of silence passed before Kaminari and Aoyama burst out into a fit of laughter. I titled my head. Why were they laughing? I was being completely serious. Did they think I was being funny? Did I say something wrong?

"Oh man, you sure know how to pick 'em, Midoriya. She's adorable."

"Thank you..?"

I felt my face burn at Izuku's admission and gave Kaminari an uneasy smile. I still couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but I took the electric blonde's raucous laughter as a good sign. "Let's go to your office to go eat these. I imagine we have some people to help cover the front desk for you for awhile," I said, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Right."

Once we were alone and Izuku had closed the door behind us, the atmosphere felt less intense, and I started setting the table, breaking the chopsticks to divvy up the portions onto the plates. Izuku, having grabbed something from the kitchen, came over with a tea kettle and poured us two cups of green tea and started shuffling some papers off his desk. I admired the view as he bent down to move a box of loose files he had next to his desk. He had looked so good standing there all decked out in his turquoise green hero suit, my favorite color. He looked even better without the scarf (Cape? Cowl?), the one that he had given to me when I had been rescued and dropped off at the hospital after the Incident. Without the yellow scarf around his neck, it was easier to notice the muscles filling out his shoulders, neck, and back- dear god, the back muscles on this man! I didn't even know I was a back person until my eyes kept retracing the lines of his deltoids and rhomboids like I was going to use it as a drawing reference. The dude was built like a gymnast masking as a body-builder, and that butt! Holy shit! He actually had one, for starters, and it was supple, like two ripe apples. The protective black padding high on his thighs only emphasized it more. Why did his costume make it so hard to see he was toned?

Get it together, Alyssa! Stop thirsting over your hot hero boyfriend and focus!

I forced myself back to the task of setting up lunch as a distraction from wandering eyes and lustful thoughts and pulled out two chairs for us to sit side-by-side, Izuku's desk having been bolted to the wall. When that didn't work, I decided to take in the office space. It was relatively neat, save for the random piles of folders and paper scattered in various places. The wall had a few hero bulletins on corkboards and other wanted posters, which was surprising since I had expected to find at least one All Might poster. His desk looked like a typical office desk, full of a tray for paperwork and a laptop, along with a little Might-T version of All Might POP figure sitting on display still mint inside the box. The figure I had bought him as an apology gift. Memories of the outburst I had done at the Jaku Hospital rushed back in full force, how mean I had been, yelling at him for being there to support me during an anxious time all because my mother might have found out about him.

"…Am I really making you uncomfortable by doing things like hug you at work?" I asked him, my voice small and sad as I gripped the back of my chair.

"I-I don't hate it."

"But I embarrass you," I finished, wilting a bit when he didn't answer. "Sorry… I don't really know what's okay and what's pushing a boundary for you. I don't think it's wrong to want to express affection like this, but I guess it can make things awkward for you. It's hard to figure out the grey area." I turned to place a hand on his arm and then retracted it. What was it about being in love that made you want to be around and touch the other person all the time? I was sure there had to be some sort of hormone involved, but my own grasp of that kind of knowledge was severely limited beyond high school biology, and that had been over a decade ago.

"No, you don't- I'm not embarrassed of you, but I think some things we should probably do... you know... in private."

"But we're not in public. We're in your office," I argued.

"That is also shared by four other people." I opened my mouth to say something and then nodded like 'fair enough' and sat down next to him. The warm smell of pork and egg filled the air as we ate the freshly made katsudon. For the past week or so, I had been meeting to eat lunch with him when I could swing it during my work breaks. With travel time, distance, and the erratic times when Masako would allow me to take my hour-long lunchbreak, my schedule rarely put me in the same timeframe to go to where Izuku patrolled for lunch, but if he had been in the area as me or I was forced to take a half-day, he would swing by a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop called Natema halfway between both of our jobs, and I would go meet him there. While I liked the cozy ramen shop, this had been the first time the lunch date had been at his agency.

"Just tell me if something is bothering you or you don't want to do something. You know me and my autism. I'm not going to catch on that you're upset unless it's blatantly obvious. Just be honest with me, and I promise I'll try not to get offended by it."

"Okay. Honesty. I can do that." I eyed him like 'can you?' and then chuckled to myself. Whatever. If it's something important, he'd tell me. After the fiasco of finding out he was the hero I idolized (Deku, who I had dubbed the 'flying mint bunny hero' due to a grammatical error and many misunderstandings only neurodivergent people could experience) and my online crush and friend, SmallMight39, and vice versa with Izuku discovering my being Muse-Musume, his online crush and author of his favorite webcomic Vigilante Knights, there were no more secrets between us. At least I hoped so. One convoluted unmasking was enough for one lifetime. Soap operas weren't this complicated.

Once I had a few bites of food in me, I began to regale Izuku of my morning at the therapist's office. Slowly, at first. For the sake of time constraints, I had tried condensing it down into the finer details, but once I got going, it all came tumbling out. Izuku was a good sport about it, nodding and humming in the right parts and being the general, amazing sounding board that he was while we both recharged our HP through the consumption of hearty pork cutlet bowls. I think my rapid-fire explanation gave him time to eat while I talked, which he needed to do. The poor guy looked like he hadn't been sleeping well.

"...So, after all that, she makes me do these math problems where I both have to do my and some where I just have to guess within like a limited amount of time. You know, the typical 'two trains leave the station at the same time going different speeds, when will they meet' kind of questions, and then she has the gall to time me and not even let me do the work by writing it out. It was like being back in high school. Like, could none of this could just have been a three-hour phone call? I had to wake up at five am for this?!"

"Sounds like you had a very long morning."

"It was the absolute worst." I felt my body sag into the office chair as I rolled my head back. "Like I understand the whole spatial problems like rearranging blocks and trapezoids in a pattern to fit a certain shape. That, I've done before for autism tests, but what does repeating a series of numbers back to her, forwards and backwards, have to do with finding out if I have autism or anxiety?"

"Maybe she was testing you for something else."

"Maybe…" I leaned forward and rested my head back on Izuku's shoulder. Physically I was spent, but curling up next to Izuku was like going to the Pokémon Center- both the real-life store and fictional location. The man was just restorative.

"So uh... what did she say about your test results?"

"Basically that, judging from what she observed from me and my answers, I 'don't seem to exhibit any kind of anxiety', so there was no need to continue our session since I apparently don't seem to exhibit any kind of anxious behaviors that lead towards an anxiety disorder,'" I said, unable to keep the mocking inflection out of my voice. "But they basically confirmed everything, with one new addition."

"A new addition? You have something other than autism?"

"Well, it's not depression or PTSD like I initially thought, so yay for that, I guess. Apparently, in addition to being on the autism spectrum, I have-" I paused a moment, trying to remember what the words were. Nothing. "Ugh, I'm coming up blank. I can't remember the right translation."

"Maybe I could help?"

"It's not like it's a rare disorder or anything. It's… ugh, I wish I could spell it out for you, but your alphabets don't work like that. They're all… phonetic and shit, but they mean different things if you smush them together wrong."

"Maybe try sounding it out? I do know some English. I did study abroad in America for a time."

"I know, but it doesn't sound like it does in English. It's a German word. What was it that she said?" I frowned, trying to pull the piece of information from memory. "Senshin-buune-retsuu-showw…"

"'Senshin'?" he said, looking even more confused why I was saying the word for 'sailor.'

"Yeah. It's-" and then I said the German word in rapid fire English, which just made his brow furrow more. Then Izuku went into what I called his putting-on-his-thinking-cap face, which was him grabbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger and staring absently into the void. He tapped the latter absentmindedly against his chin as he muttered to himself, "Senshin…bune… retsu…shou…" Then he lit up. "Wait, do you mean to say 'seishinbunretsusho'? 'Mind-split disease'?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Is that what you call it here?"

"Yeah, the disorder that makes people think they're seeing things that aren't there?"

"Yes! That's the one!" I clapped and then pointed to him with an excited nod before leaning back in my chair, running my fingers through my hair and growling at the ceiling. "Ugh! Why is it that autism sounds exactly like it does in English, but that word is a whole ass sentence of words?" I tried sounding out the Japanese words on my tongue. "Sei-shin-bun-ret-tsu-sho… Such a mouthful."

"It took me a moment to figure it out. I don't think we call it that anymore. It's a very outdated way of saying it. 'Integration disorder' is how we say it now: 'togo shitcho sho."

"Toe-go shee-t-cho-show… Yeah, that makes way more sense without the 'sailor' word sound."

"How do you say it in America?"

"(Schizophrenia)," I said, this time making sure I spoke clearly and concise.

"Skee-zo-fu-ru-ren-i-a…?"

"Skit-zoh-fren-knee-ah," I pronounced, "hard 'f'. No 'fuu-ru' sound. Say it more like 'fur.'"

"Ferru…" Izuku frowned and tried sounding it out again, but the 'f' consonant kept having a silent 'u' creep back in again. Japanese accents were difficult to change. "That's hard."

"Yeah, don't hurt yourself. English is hard, and German is worse. At least I know how to say it in Japanese so you can understand what I'm saying," I said as the reality of the words sunk in. "I can't believe I'm supposed to have schizophrenia... I've never once heard voices." Except the ones full of self-doubt and dark thoughts, but everyone had a 'devil on their shoulder.' That wasn't abnormal... right?

"Wouldn't it be hard for you to tell, since you can't question your own reality?" Izuku then picked up a piece of fried pork with his chopsticks and pointed it at me. "It's not like you would know unless someone told you you were hallucinating."

"I guess… Still, I don't think I've ever hallucinated something or someone. That I know of, at least," I mumbled almost to myself. Who knows? Maybe I had imagined that I had friends in high school. They always seemed to be absent when I needed them most. It certainly explained the reasons why Masako got so mad at me for being forgetful. Just thinking about my boss made my energy levels fall even farther. God, I have to go to work after this…

"No wonder it took you so long to be diagnosed."

"The hilarious thing is I've actually tried to write characters with schizophrenia, only now to be like, 'joke's on you! You actually have it, ha ha!'" I twirled the chopstick in my hand, finding the contents of my bowl more interesting. "…You don't think of me as crazy now, do you?"

"No," he said and then amended with, "I mean sure, you've done some impulsive stuff I wouldn't do, but I don't think I'd label it as crazy."

"So, me being potentially off my rocker doesn't scare you?"

"'Off your rocker?'"

"It's another way of saying 'crazy' or 'psychotic.'"

"No, although I don't think you should call yourself that. You just got a bit more going on in your head than other people do." The softness of his gaze made me almost want to cry right there into my onions and scallions. It's official. I love this man with every fiber of my being…

"Izuku Midoriya, you are the fluffy thing that heals me…" I said in complete seriousness.

"Uh… t-thank you?"

I pinched another piece of pork into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "Now that I know what I have, I guess finding a therapist will be easier," I said, focused on scooping up the scattered pieces of rice that didn't want to get onto my chopsticks. "I didn't really like the one they gave me. She basically tore into my guts and then was like 'anxiety doesn't seem to be your problem. Maybe we should see other people.' Plus, autism doesn't exactly show up on the checklist sheet for choosing therapists."

"She actually said that?"

I stabbed at a stubborn piece of rice with the end of my chopstick and swiftly stuck it into my mouth. "No, but it was what she meant, which is complete bullshit. I'm super anxious." At work, at home with my mother and her cancer, my travel anxiety and the chronic stomach problems that always followed- it was like walking on a barbed wire tightrope and not know when you were going to step on a barb and fall. It had to be a mistake or misunderstanding. In the rapid-fire questions portion of my interview that I wasn't supposed to overthink when I answered, many of my ratings of 5s on a scale of one to five (with one being 'never' and five being 'always') had been stuff I had pictured when I was a kid than how I was now in the present day. That had to affect the outcome. It couldn't be relevant now.

"If you don't agree with her diagnosis, why don't you get a second opinion?"

"I would, but this evaluation was given to me for free, and I can't afford the time and money it would take to do this all over again. Besides, what do I know? I don't exactly have the psych degree. Who am I to question someone who went to medical school? It's not like I could check myself for disorders like that or schizophrenia."

"Are you doing alright?"

"I don't know. I'm tired. I haven't done a test this intense since college finals, and this one lasted over three hours. They made me do math problems and memory games without any paper. That's just cruel and unusual punishment." Longing for some form a contact, I leaned back onto his shoulder and felt my head droop. Rather than flinch like before, he just let me stay there as I stared off into space. "It feels like it's been years since we've been together like this…"

Izuku chuckled. "What are you talking about? I saw you just last week."

"I know, but it just doesn't feel like it. I can't help it. At the risk of sounding clingy, I just want to be around you all the time. I'd blame it on us being in a new relationship, but I don't think I was ever this bad with my past crushes." I felt it more than I saw it as Izuku rested his head against mine.

"Me too…" Then a funny little smile crept its way onto his face, making the diamond pattern of Izuku's freckles bunch together on his cheeks. "Remember the time we spent almost nine hours chatting on Skype?"

"I don't think I got any sleep that night," I admitted, recalling the fond memory of a fourteen-year-old Alyssa staying up late to secretly talk with her friend until five am while her mother and sister slept unaware in their bedrooms. The fuzzy high I had experienced in talking to him helped make up for the sleep deprivation I experienced later that day at school when I had nearly passed out in third period orchestra. "I'm pretty sure that was the first sign I was in love with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah… The SmallMight39 you, not the in-real-life, pro-hero you, obviously. That came later," I explained and thought for a moment. "I think it was when you opened up to me about your homelife and how hard it was being bullied for being Quirkless that really did it for me."

"Really? That was the moment that did it for you?"

"Oh yeah. I've always had a weakness for the underdog, the unlovables, the ugly toothless mutts people pass over for the golden retrievers."

"Gee thanks," Izuku deadpanned.

"Oh, you know what I mean. The guys who've got much more going on under the surface because they aren't relying on superficial things like their looks or Quirks to get by but get labelled as outcasts because they don't fit the gold standard for normal," I explained and then grinned with a shrug. "Plus, you know, you were a sweet guy- and a nerd. All the things I love in a man."

A laugh spilled past his lips, and it made me want to tell the joke again just to witness that bright smile. "A lot has happened since then… I'm not the same, weak, Quirkless kid I was in middle school. I'm much better off now-"

"Aren't we all?"

"-plus I've got the agency, and you finally travelled to Japan."

"True… Different, but still the same in some ways, the important ways. The ways that it counts," I smiled and then because I felt like I was being too sappy, I added, "I mean, obviously we're not the same people we were ten years ago since you got a Quirk and I am- well, I still don't have a Quirk, but I don't need powers. Who needs a Quirk when you have 'the power of God and anime on your side'? If anything, autism is my superpower. At least, that's what Joelle says."

"Your sister's got a point."

I waved him off like 'yeah yeah sure' as I settled back into his left side, making sure I didn't knock him over while he ate, though he hadn't eaten anything in a while. Then I peered up at him, relishing in how I could feel small and protected sitting next to him. Like we were equals. "So uhh… what was it that made you fall for me, back when we were online friends?"

Izuku stiffened, knocking me off his shoulder as he hunched over his meal. "I-I don't know. I c-can't really think of it off the t-top of my head."

"Oh, come on," I pouted. "I spill my guts to you all the time. Give me something to work with here, Freckles."

He waited, like there was a few seconds that he could get out of avoiding the question, before he frantically searched for an answer, "Hmm… oh! I think I know. It was something about you listening to me go on about wanting to become a hero, though I don't think it was any one moment in particular."

"Really? That's what does it for you, huh? You got some kind of praise kink or something I don't know about, Mighty Smols?" I teased, causing him to nearly spit out the green tea had taken a sip from.

"N-No! It's nothing like that! It's just," I giggled at his flustered expression, waiting until Izuku could find the words. "…You really seemed to be genuinely interested in what I had to say. You didn't dismiss me or tell me my dream was unrealistic or that I was crazy for trying. You understood the reason why I wanted to be a hero, beyond just wanting to be like All Might like some fanboy. You actually listened… and then you gave me suggestions of how to proceed and, I don't know, I guess it grew from there?"

Warmth gushed through me as the waves of affection whooshed from inside my chest. If I wasn't careful, I was going to be swept away by this man. "I didn't know that mattered so much to you…"

"I guess it goes to show you never know what things you say will actually stick with people." I shared his smile. The room seemed to soften at his words, everything appearing richer in color and blurry around the edges at the same time. I could feel him leaning into me as our eyes met, the heat coming off of him in waves as he leaned forward, like I was being cooked slowly in a pot over the stove. There was still a droplet of matcha wetting his lips, an antipode from the dryness of mine, and suddenly I wanted a taste.

'That's pretty selfish of you.'

Inches away from his face I paused, not wanting to frighten him away like a scared fawn, but I didn't move away from him either. Was I being selfish for doing this, wanting him like this? Yorokobi's words were still echoing in my head, so I waited, wondering if he would make the first move.

This time, Izuku had been the one to move in close. As he leaned in and pressed his mouth to mine, relief and a lightness spilled into me. Instead of darkness when I closed my eyes, I could actually picture the idea of a thirteen-year-old Izuku Midoriya sitting behind a computer screen. The image was pretty invasive, actually, which only helped me sink deeper into the haze of affection I had for him and the poor lonely boy he had been. My thumb gently caressed the freckles on his cheek, the cheek that had no doubt been injured and swollen from countless fights and hazing from his classmates. A dark shade of a bruise discoloring the otherwise ruby red cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, no doubt from the tears he had shed over it. It only made me want to bring him closer…

"Deku, why is your- WHAT THE HELL!?" I flinched back from the abrasive noise as my vision cleared while Izuku balking like a startled horse in the gate, forcing us both apart. At some point, we must have stood up because my hip hurt from where Izuku had knocked his chair into me after scrambling away from the desk as we stared dumbfounded at the door. The same door that had been closed a second ago but was now wrenched opened and had a very loud grenade shaped man in the doorway. No, wait, it wasn't a grenade. It was-

"Deku, why is your- WHAT THE HELL!?" I flinched back from the abrasive noise as my vision cleared while Izuku balking like a startled horse in the gate, forcing us both apart. to stare dumbfounded at the door. The same door that had been closed a second ago but was now wrenched opened and had a very loud grenade shaped man in the doorway. No, wait, it wasn't a grenade, it was-

"K-Kacchan!?" Izuku yelped, suddenly growing beet red and retreating into that sheepish personality he sometimes had when confronted with something daunting and unexpected. Ground Zero, in all of his five-foot eight, bomber hero glory, were all of those things, all two hundred pounds of him. His whole body was just pure muscle outlined in a tight black top with orange crisscrossed suspenders and wearing full army gear. It was the full three-page spread, limited edition. A daunting sight to behold for a normal person, much less two adults that had been caught in flagrante. While he was still shorter than my six feet, Bakugou felt enormous while sitting down, his voice like thunder. "What are you doing here?!"

Still stunned, the only thoughts that went through my head past 'holy shit, Ground Zero, omigod HAWT!' and 'dear god, he's loud' was, 'I could have sworn that door was locked' and 'you couldn't have bothered to fucking knock!?'

"I was coming here to review a case with you," Bakugou said with a growl of disgust, like he had just walked in on his kid brother having sex. Overdramatic, much? "But it looks like you have other things going on inside that head of yours." I couldn't help but cringe at the way he worded that. Just what did he think we were doing in here?

"It's not what it looks like! I was-! We were-! That is to say-" Izuku said, stammering over himself as he kept starting and restarting explanations, like he had something to hide. The muttering got so bad that I couldn't translate it. Finally, I had enough.

"It's my fault," I cut in, moving so Izuku was behind me, my height easily shielding his five-foot six frame. "I decided to visit Izuku so we could have our lunchbreak together and I was the one overstepped my bounds by kissing him. It won't happen again."

"YES! I called it! You owe me five hundred yen, Aoyama!" Kaminari cheered from the lobby, no doubt fist pumping the air for winning another bet.

"The FUCK, Kaminari!?" Bakugou snapped, head whipping down the hall towards the stun-gun hero that had been cackling at his reaction. His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. "You said Deku wasn't busy!"

"What I said was 'he's on lunchbreak,'" Kaminari corrected, not appearing sorry in the least as the explosion hero made not so heroic death threats involving Kaminari's ancestors.

"People really need to stop betting money on our relationship…" I muttered under my breath, then shifted my gaze towards Izuku, who had been cowering behind his hands. "Sorry for getting you in trouble."

"It's f-fine... Kacchan's seen worse."

"Worse than you making out in your office?" I asked incredulous.

"M-Maybe not exactly that, but I've known him since we were kids. He was one of my childhood friends growing up, and we were the only two kids at our middle school that got into UA. I've known him a long time.."

"I see… Well, don't let me get in the way of your work. I'm sure he's got something important if he barges in here like that-" Then something clicked inside my head, like the colors had been matched on one side of a Rubix cube. The last time I had heard Izuku called Bakugou 'kacchan' had been at the latter's birthday dinner, but it wasn't the first time I had heard that nickname. SmallMight39-Izuku had used it back when we had talked about what was going on in the real world, right around the times when he was still in junior high-

"Wait…"

I stood rigid in place in the dawning realization at the vision I had imagined of Izuku coming home broken and depressed after being bullied at school, beaten and broken day after day. There were months- no, years, of private messages between us about him being a target for being bullied, tormented, all because he was smaller than everyone else, because he was Quirkless, because he was weak. Because he was different.

Izuku had told me that most everyone joined in the fun of bullying him as a kid, whether it was hiding his shoes or saying a derisive comment, but the word 'kacchan' had been the only name that had come up in that time, which meant that he was probably the ringleader, his main tormenter. His worst nightmare.

"You…" I gaped, my voice barely audible that I had to say it again to confirm it was true. "It was you."

"Hah? What are you going on about?" Bakugou asked, like he barely remembered I was there. Like I didn't matter. My blood boiled.

"You!" I growled- no, snarled most likely, saying the angriest, rudest, most vile version of 'you' that I knew in the Japanese language. The righteous fury and indignation burning inside of me was so hot and vile, I was shocked at the level of loathing I felt in that moment, not thinking myself ever capable of getting this angry- and I'd had a breakdown last month. This was a nuclear meltdown, just pure, unadulterated rage and hatred. The glare I was giving Bakugou could have melted steel in that moment. "You were the one who- (you mother fucker! You fucking bastard! Do you have any idea what you put him through?!)" I roared, so furious I couldn't even speak Japanese anymore as I oozed nothing but vile hatred and loathing at the dead man in front me who had made Izuku cry. "(You sick, twisted, son of a bitch! I'll kill y-!)"

'That's pretty selfish of you.'

Seconds away from launching myself at him, I clenched my fists and grit my teeth as my mouth shut. Even though I knew I had no shot at beating the pro-hero, I wanted to throw myself at this ash-blonde bastard. I wanted claw his crimson eyes out, wring his stupid, thick neck, maybe grab him by the collar and- I don't know -shake him around a little before throwing him onto Deku's desk, maybe get a good punch in. I hadn't really learned how to punch yet. Maybe this could have been a learning experience. The guy looked like a dude who needed to be taken down a peg, and I wanted to wipe the snide, smug expression off of his face.

Then I actually saw my face. In the small wall mirror beside the door, I saw the creature about to lunge at Bakugou. I looked unhinged, psychotic, like I was about to go on a murder spree, like I was crazy-

Schizophrenic.

That did it. That one word had all the air deflating out of my lungs.

"Sorry... I'm sorry, I'm not…" I whispered. Not well. Not in my right mind, I wanted to finish. What was wrong with me? Where had all that rage come from? I hadn't been violent since middle school. I was usually so careful at keeping a lid on my emotions. Was it the therapy, the hours of being tested, some hormonal imbalance caused by my schizophrenia? God, my schizophrenia. I wanted to curl up into a ball on the floor and cry. How much of my anger right now was mine? How much of it was my autism? How much of it was my schizophrenia?

Somehow anticipating my sudden mood swing and the seconds leading to an emotional breakdown, I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Izuku staring at me with a kind and sympathetic expression. Bakugou might have deserved my ire at one point, but Izuku didn't. Outside of hurting his friend, I would be punishing Bakugou for crimes he had committed years ago, back when everyone was young and stupid, and that was if my hunch had been correct. I was jumping onto very precarious conclusions with little evidence. There was no way of knowing without asking Izuku or Bakugou directly, but now wasn't the time to get into a fistfight in the middle of his agency. I had already embarrassed my boyfriend with my random outbursts enough.

"She just got some really troubling news this morning…" Izuku explained, voice tender and gentle. "She's still processing it." I looked at Izuku, grateful to be the one being saved. Bakugou didn't say anything, just stood there with a blank expression, like he had just missed something. He then clicked his tongue and crossed his arms.

"Tch whatever. It's not my problem," groused Bakugou, driving that nail of hatred a little deeper.

"I should probably get back to work."

"You don't have to go," said Izuku but I shook my head.

"No, I should let you get back to it. Duty calls, right? Besides, Masako let me start later in the day, and I had to take a later shift to make up for the psych appointment."

"If you're sure…"

"I'll be fine, Izuku. Don't worry," I gave him a fake smile, not even convincing myself with the lie. "Just- go get 'em, tiger."

That made Izuku arch an eyebrow. "'Tiger'?"

"I dunno. I was trying a thing. Whatever." Then I leaned in and gave Izuku a quick side hug and peck on the cheek before I scooped up my purse.

Seconds from walking out the door where I had sidestepped around Bakugou leaning against the doorframe, I felt more than saw my hand as it smacked the explosive pro-hero upside the head in revenge. Juvenile, I know, but it certainly made me feel better.

"WHAT THE FUCK!? The hell did you do that for, you crazy amazon!?"

"Payback for being an asshole!" I snapped before turning to Izuku with a softer, more neutral face. He appeared just as startled by the attack as Bakugou had been. "See you at lightsaber practice, Izuku." Then I got the hell out of dodge.

Only once I was outside his office building did the rush of what I had done come screaming back at me. Holy shit, I just hit Ground Zero after making out with his coworker, Deku, in the office in the same day! What is my life? Was this one of those hallucinations I was supposed to have? Then I dismissed that notion, Izuku having seen the explosive hero as well. Goddamn… I'm lucky that he's a pro-hero. He could have really fucked me up, I thought, my hands still shaking from the adrenaline and the sensation of hitting Bakugou's head. It had been surprisingly soft.

Man, I'm gonna feel real dumb if it turns out Bakugou isn't the kid that used to bully- still bullies -Izuku… But then again, how many Kacchans did he know? Izuku had a block of time where he hadn't contacted me during high school, so it was possible there was another person with a nickname, though it appeared unlikely. I had assumed their friendship was a polar opposites dynamic where Bakugou had been protecting Izuku from the bullies, not be one of them unless there had been something Izuku had left out. Something he hadn't told Muse-Musume or Alyssa, but there couldn't be that much that he was still hiding from me, not anything significant at least.

I paused in the hopes of catching one last glimpse of Izuku from his office window, longing for another moment with him despite having just said goodbye. In a low voice, I sang to myself the words of the melody still bouncing inside my head. "'I'm addicted to the sorrow, but I'll see him by tomorrow. There's another rush of poison flowing into my veins, giving me a dose of pleasure that resides by the pain. I'm addicted and dependent, looking awesome feeling helpless. And I know I'm raising hell by acting like a zero, but maybe things won't be so terrible loving this hero…'"

A/N: References today are Corellia (Koreria) and Nathema (Natema) from Star Wars, Pokémon, Misa Amane from Death Note, Mary-Jane Watson from Spider-Man, and 'Addict' by Silva Hound from Hazbin Hotel.