Sunshine

“I didn’t expect to see you today, my boy,” All Might said, eyes reflecting the universe. Tall and proud as if he had been at the peak of his career yesterday. "Was there something you needed help with? A case? Some unprompted fatherly advice?”
Izuku shook his head. “Nothing drastic, I hope, I don’t remember exactly why I came.” He shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you. It’s been rather slow up top.”
All Might smiled. “Well, I can’t turn that down, now, can I?” He hummed, placing a hand on his chin. “I think last time you were here, young Shouto was officially being banned from the kitchen. Has he set any more toasters on fire since?”
Izuku laughed, the story of how Shouto snuck out of bed two days prior to attempt to make coffee on the tip of his tongue when he shivered.
And perhaps, Izuku should have been more concerned about that development. The moment when the vestige world became cold. But he didn't, focused more on describing the expression on his fiancés' face when he had to explain to Izuku, for the second time, why they needed a new coffee pot.
But, maybe he really should have.
(In which Izuku gets sick)

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: To Have and To Hold

Chapter Text

NOVEMBER

All things considered, Izuku probably should have been more concerned when he fainted.

To be fair, he hadn’t expected to collapse on his way to the bathroom after he and Shouto wasted their day off together, lounging on the couch, watching reruns and old movies between kissing his too gorgeous to be real fiancé. And granted, in his experience with fainting—times when the pain was too much to put forth the effort to stay awake—there hadn’t exactly been any warnings. One minute he was up, surveying the broken battlefield, the next moment, darkness.

This time, however, there was no broken glass. No bloody footprints. No grim but smiling teammates off to the side. There was only the ugly olive carpet, which the pair had snickered at when they first saw the place, vowing to never live there due to that alone—of course, not considering the current housing market and how close it was to their work—and the engagement photo, hanging on the wall, which Izuku hit as he tried to steady himself, before swaying.

There was Shouto calling him from the other room—not too concerned—and then Izuku collapsing. The second call from Shouto sounded—

“I didn’t expect to see you today, my boy,” All Might said. He was looking out into the great expanse of space—artificial, to Izuku’s knowledge since nothing was real within One for All, except the essences of the past users themselves. But even the users could be faked. All Might himself was standing proud, facing the stars as if he died at the peak of his career, not years later.

"Was there something you needed help with,” he asked, “a case? Some unprompted fatherly advice?”

Izuku shook his head. “Nothing drastic, I hope, I don’t remember exactly why I came.”

All Might’s gaze flickered over to him, reflecting the universe. His mouth set perfectly straight.

Izuku shrugged. “Maybe I just wanted to spend time with you. It’s been rather slow up top.”

All Might smiled. “Well, I can’t turn that down, now, can I?” He hummed, placing a hand on his chin. “I think last time you were here, young Todoroki was being officially banned from the kitchen. Has he set any more toasters on fire since?”

Izuku laughed, the story of how Shouto snuck out of bed two days ago to attempt to make coffee just on the tip of his tongue when he shivered. It was odd. He had never felt cold in One for All before. He’d never felt anything in this place before. He shook it off, reasoning that somewhere in the real, Shouto was close by, and his quirk was acting up, most likely because he just saw that sad dog commercial and once Izuku came too, they’d be having another conversation about moving and getting a houseful of pets neither of them was home enough to take care of.

“My boy,” All Might prompted.

Izuku smiled, looking to the galaxy of stars, wondering where amongst all of them Earth was hiding. He started his story.

When Izuku woke up, he was freezing. Before opening his eyes, he reached over to where his fiancé was, hoping to land his hand on Shouto’s rapidly beating heart, or his fluctuating cheek. Shouto didn’t get the nightmares that often anymore, but when he did, he usually calmed down once Izuku touched him.

Izuku’s hand floated on empty air. He waved it down, ready to pull himself across the bed when his hand went lower than expected. It probably would have gone further, had something soft and warm not grabbed it.

“Izuku.”

Izuku smiled, flexing his fist, in Shouto’s hold. He turned his head, yawning. While fighting to open his eyes he asked, “did I push you off the bed again?” He yawned. “Maybe we really do need that king-size mattress your brother is always peddling us.”

He opened his eyes, landing on Shouto. Shouto who wasn’t wearing pajamas, but the clothes he had been wearing the night prior with a small, indistinct frown, brushing his thumb across Izuku’s knuckles. His hair was greasy, a messy tangle between red and white, which matched the lines of worry carved into his face.

“Shou?”

“It’s okay, sunshine. I told the doctor you’d be waking up soon. They already ran some tests, but they didn’t seem all that worried before so,” Shouto shrugged. “It’ll be okay.”

The rest of the room came into focus then. How the walls weren’t beige, with a large black scuff in the corner, forbidding them from ever getting their deposit back—Shouto argued it was the fact that Izuku once broke off the handle on their bathroom sink, but in reality, it was because of the dent in the wall behind one of the bedposts.

The walls were white, save for the strip of wallpaper, housing small yellow daffodils tied with pale green bows. The steady beeping of the heart monitor, and the annoying prick of an I.V., were distant signs too, but Izuku was too busy frowning, trying to think up a plausible reason he ended up in the hospital on his off day.

As if reading his mind Shouto, after bringing his hand up to his lips to ghost a kiss to it, whispered, “you fainted. When you didn’t wake up, I brought you here.”

Izuku tugged his back, rolling onto his back, sighing, “and I was this close to winning that bet with Ochako-kun.”

“Three months was a long time. I only had to perform stitches twice too,” Shouto said, earning a half-hearted glare from his partner.

“You’re in on it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Todoroki Shouto, I swear to god, if I found out you bet—”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Shouto was the first to break eye contact, turning to greet the doctor, who was standing in the open doorway, holding a tablet. She smiled at him, returning his greeting before turning to Izuku.

“Well, it’s a good sign to see you up and smiling today, Midoriya-san. I take it you’re feeling alright?”

Izuku nodded. Underneath the blanket he had begun to go through the categories of his limbs, checking to see if anything was broken, bruised, or in some other shape of disarray. But he was absolutely fine.

“As I expected,” she placed the clipboard down at the foot of his bed, “your blood sugar levels were a little low, which combined with exhaustion knocked you out for the night. But otherwise, I can’t say there’s anything else wrong. I recommend drinking more electrolytes and things with natural sugars like juices, as well as maintaining a proper diet.”

“Sounds good to me,” Izuku said, earning a sigh from Shouto.

“Any excuse for you to have more apple juice in the house sounds good to you.”

Izuku stuck his tongue out at him, while the doctor continued,

“If you have no questions for me, you are free to go, once the nurse is done with the IV.”

Izuku and Shouto thanked the doctor, Shouto’s hand finding Izuku’s again, rubbing circles along his wrist, perfectly content.

“Now about that bet,” Izuku started.

Izuku held onto Shouto’s pinky, swinging their arms back and forth as they made their way back from the hospital towards their apartment. It was later than he expected, nearing dinner time, though the heavy clouds made the actual time of day more obscure. The breeze was cold, making their walk rather scarce, save for the cars and the few people rushing into shops to buy gifts for Christmas.

“You want to know what I don’t understand,” Shouto said as they waited for the light to change. Izuku looked over at him. Outside now, Shouto managed to look well put together in his dark blue peacoat and gray scarf. His hair was more windswept than disheveled. The light changed, glowing green over Shouto’s face as he tugged Izuku across the intersection, speaking while they walked, “we ate dinner pretty late last night and spent the whole day on the couch.”

“That’s not the only thing we did,” Izuku said, pleased with the way Shouto bit his tongue before giving him an unthreatening glare.

“Izu.”

“Shou.”

Shouto rolled his eyes, focusing back on the street. “If you weren’t feeling good, you should have said something. I thought you’d have a concussion with how hard and fast you put your face into the wall. Lucky for you, your head’s a brick.”

“Yeah, yeah. And my bones are two toothpicks taped together.”

It didn’t make Shouto smile like he usually did, so Izuku pulled him to a stop. Shouto frowned, focusing on their shoes.

“Hey.” With his free hand, he cupped Shouto’s right cheek. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“You didn’t wake up,” Shouto said, softly, “I was scared.”

“I’m okay,” Izuku repeated, “my calorie count probably went up again and I wasn’t paying attention during my last physical when they advised that important information. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Shouto smiled, cupping the hand holding his cheek. He kissed the inside of his wrist before saying, “that’s absurd. I’m going to worry about you regardless.”

Izuku rolled his eyes, catching sight of something fluttery and soft. He broke into a grin, watching as more snowflakes began to fall around them. His adoring partner noticed them too, already sighing, dropping his hold on his wrist.

“Come on, before it gets too cold," he said walking away.

Izuku bounded to him, connecting their elbows so that he could dramatically hang off of it while he whined, “Shou, you gotta do the thing.”

The only sign that Shouto struggled at all with Izuku’s weight was him slowing down. Izuku saw it as a win, allowing the momentum to swing his body, trusting in Shouto completely.

“Please.”

Shouto raised his right hand, his left securely in his pocket—and otherwise occupied holding Izuku up. One by one small intricate patterns froze to his skin. Izuku straightened, watching enthralled, as Shouto gathered each shape in his grasp. After acquiring a collection, he offered his hand to Izuku.

“You know, I can make this stuff, right?” Shouto asked, keeping his hand cold enough to gather more snow. “You don’t have to wait for the first snowfall every year.”

“This isn’t the thing, Mr. ‘my quirk is perfect every season of the year.’”

Shouto had the audacity to pout. Izuku stuck his tongue out, catching a snowflake, and going cross-eyed to see it. With his tongue still sticking out, he tried to lament the fact that he couldn’t save snowflakes on his tongue like a certain someone. It came out as gibberish.

“You’re impossible,” Shouto said, sticking the tip of his tongue out. Almost immediately snowflakes began to litter it. One could argue that it was no different than what Shouto had done with his hand, but in fact, it was different. It was an example of precision. The fact that Shouto could control the temperature of any part of his body so perfectly that minuscule snowflakes could be preserved. It amazed Izuku even if he had seen it before.

So focused on their intrinsic shapes, and Shouto’s abilities, he wasn’t prepared when Shouto closed the centimeters of space between their lips. A simple chaste kiss that left Izuku, spluttering as Shouto pulled away, satisfied.

“Come on,” Shouto said, re-grabbing Izuku’s hand, “let’s get home.”

Izuku smiled, closing the distance between their shoulders, firmly attached to Shouto’s side as they made their way through a quiet neighborhood with nothing but snowflakes kisses and a hidden away star.

DECEMBER

“Merry Christmas!” Izuku said, bouncing on their bed after launching onto it to say his greeting. On his phone Shouto—and Kacchan, though it was hard to make him out—seemed to be standing in a line.

“Not Christmas here yet, love,” Shouto smiled. Kacchan made a gagging noise just outside of the camera.

“At this fucking rate we’re going to spend Christmas somewhere flying over the Pacific,” Kacchan grumbled. “I swear to god if the agency mishandled our tickets again—”

“I take it, it's not going so well?”

“It hasn't been that bad. Everyone’s been pretty decent and it’s not the airports’ fault for the weather,” Shouto reasoned, shouldering his bag. “Plus, it could be worse. I could be spending my Christmas with Katsuki on a plane—oh wait.”

“Icy Hot do not think I won’t abandon your ass here and take the first single ticket I find,” Kacchan growled.

Shouto placed his hand on his heart in mock pain. Dropping it, he retook the camera.

“Don’t worry too much about him,” Izuku said, even though he knew Shouto never did. “He’s just upset he’s missing his first Christmas with his boyfriend.”

“Katsuki, why didn’t you say you were stressed,” Shouto played along, “I wouldn’t have given our tickets away to that poor child and her dear father earlier.”

“I hate you,” Kacchan said. “Not all of us have been all but adopted into our significant other’s homes.” He said something else, but Izuku couldn’t make it out.

Meanwhile, Shouto, as he shuffled forward in line, asked, “Yumi and my mom are still coming over right?”

Izuku nodded. “My mom will be here at ten to help set up for supper and then later Ochako-kun is coming over since Tenya-kun drew the short stick and has to work tonight. We’ll probably have a Christmas movie marathon. You know how she is.”

“The Original All Might Holiday Special or the remake?”

Izuku scrunched up his nose. “They’re both unwatchable. Do you know they painted one of his real-life sidekicks’ green, so it had more Christmas charm in the original one? All Might said the guy had green armpits for a month. Can you imagine? And don’t get me started on the villain. Having Candy Cane powers doesn’t even make sense.”

“So, you’re watching both of them.”

“Of course, they’re classics.”

Shouto snickered, covering it with his free hand. He looked good. Well, Izuku always thought he looked good. But there was a certain otherworldliness that Shouto possessed even while standing amongst thousands in an airport on Christmas (Eve), waiting to get home.

“I miss you.”

Shouto’s eyes softened. “I miss you too, sunshine. I promise I’ll do my best to see you today.” He paused, pondering something, “that is, however, if you didn’t open your Christmas present without me.”

Said present was a small, perfectly wrapped box under their baby Christmas tree, which they somehow inherited from one of their mother’s. It housed Izuku’s collection of hero ornaments, hanging between white lights. Had Izuku not been happily engaged to the man already, he would have thought the small box was an engagement ring, but that band was securely around Izuku’s finger. Its pair, under Shouto’s shirt, since he was still in active-duty mode, even while boarding a flight.

“I have not.”

Shouto raised one of his brows.

“I may have shaken the box once or twice.”

“Next,” a lady said. Shouto’s gaze flickered up.

“You have to go?”

“Not yet,” Shouto said, “besides, Katsuki is in a people mood. I trust him to get us on a plane. Though I think the line will go faster if you tell me a story.”

Izuku smiled, rolling onto his back, placing the phone down beside him. “How ‘bout you call me back once you get your tickets, and I’ll keep you company while Kacchan naps before your flight boards?”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Izuku whispered back.

“I love you,” Shouto said.

“I love you too.”

Izuku was almost too busy the rest of the day to miss his fiancé. Between crying and hugging his mom, and then hugging and hosting Shouto’s mom and sister, to trying to get Ochako to behave when she showed up two hours earlier than expected, ready to toast the night away in the middle of Izuku’s very professional, very nice, Christmas afternoon dinner. Luckily, for Ochako she brought her mom’s secret recipe brownies, so all was forgiven.

“Thank you again,” Rei said, as he led her to the door later that day. His mom and Ochako were in the kitchen, finishing doling out leftovers, listening to Fuyumi talk about a new recipe she had just tried.

“The meal was mostly my mom and honestly I think she was just grateful she didn’t have to make me katsudon. I was only in charge of cutting the veggies,” he said shrugging. He opened the small closet in the foyer and grabbed their coats. When he handed it to her, she was surveying him with the same pensive look Shouto got. It was rather uncanny and as such, Izuku debated, throwing himself back into the closet in fear of her finding whatever she was searching for. Instead of that, he handed her the coat.

“That’s not what I’m thankful for,” she said, pulling it on. He waited for her to elaborate, but nothing else came. Only the gentle smile her son wore most comfortably and Fuyumi calling her goodbyes to the others and grabbing her coat from Izuku.

“Give my little brother hell, okay,” she said, hugging Izuku.

“Well, I can’t be too mean,” Izuku said, with a grin, “but he was supposed to be home yesterday, so.”

Fuyumi matched his grin. “Absolute hell.”

“All right, all right,” Rei said, pulling her daughter out. “Don’t be a stranger, Izuku-kun. I’d love to have you for lunch, preferably to talk about wedding plans.”

“Ooo me too,” Fuyumi squealed, “It’s been forever since I’ve gone to a wedding.” She clasped her hands together. “Plus, the kids love it when you come over.”

“I don’t think this year. We haven’t even thought about venues yet, or dates, or anything really.”

Fuyumi shook her head, sighing “men,” leaving Rei to chuckle as they both left the apartment. Izuku shut the door, taking his time to the kitchen, picking up a spare cup along the way, twisting the plastic in his hand.

From the other room, he could hear Christmas music. Last year he and Shouto had Christmas dinner at his mom’s house but had spent the whole day blasting Christmas music since it was the only day Shouto saw reason to listen to it. A fact Izuku ignored every year, playing it almost as soon as the decorations went up. But last year, they had pushed all the furniture to the side, trying and failing to dance to whatever came on next. When they hastily moved the couch back later, they realized they had managed to put a gouge in the floor—another reason why they would never see that deposit again.

Izuku entered the kitchen, expecting Ochako and his mom to be in deep conversation, but instead found Ochako, sitting on the counter, giving him a shit-eating grin, while his mom did the dishes.

“Mom, you didn’t—”

“What’s this about weddings?” Ochako asked, swinging her legs, knocking her heels into the cupboard.

“—have to do the dishes. I could’ve managed.”

“It’s no problem, dear,” his mom said, “I liked doing them, though I’d like doing them more if I was listening about how my only son was finally going to get married to my soon-to-be-favorite son-in-law.”

Izuku sighed, “we haven’t talked about it.” Before either woman could say anything to reprimand him, he continued with. “But we will be, soon. It’s only that we have the rest of our lives to be married, so we want to make sure the day is perfect.”

“Yeah, but,” Ochako said, hopping off the counter, “the only way to get such a perfect wedding is if you start planning the damn thing. I feel like I’m going to die before I get to be your maid of honor. The least you could do is set a date.”

Izuku rolled his eyes as his mother said, “a date would be nice.”

“Well, a date requires two people, and my life partner is currently flying above a stormy ocean with Kacchan, so we can’t exactly say now. But we’re thinking about it,” Izuku said, which was true. Izuku did have a journal, missing currently, with some sort of wedding plans—from what he remembered it had mostly cake flavors in it though. “Sort of.”

Ochako and his mom shared a look before his mom shrugged, turning back to the dishes.

“I hate when you guys do that,” Izuku frowned. Meanwhile, Ochako, having grabbed her bottle of wine from the counter, looped her arms with his, dragging him out of the room.

“Hey, Izuku…Izu, sweetheart.” Izuku smiled, waking up to Shouto’s greeting kiss.

“Shou,” he smiled, groggy, reaching to loop his arms around his neck.

“Merry Christmas, sunshine,” Shouto said, once Izuku was successfully in place.

“’s no longer Christmas,” he mumbled, relaxing into Shouto’s familiar warmth, grumbling under his breath when Shouto pulled away only far enough to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone, Izuku’s face glowing with the time: 11:49.

Izuku let out a little gasp. “It’s Christmas.”

“Sorry I’m late, you know how traffic is.”

Izuku laughed into the crook of his neck. “I heard about the massive pile up around the Mariana Trench. I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

“I think the pilots managed even with a human bomb on board.”

“Was Hitoshi-kun mad?”

“I don’t think so, apparently Christmas was always scheduled for tomorrow. I don’t know what Katsuki was upset about.”

“Probably because he wanted to be gross and romantic and kiss his boyfriend and stuff.”

“Ew. Who on earth would want to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku said, still halfway nestled in Shouto’s arms, and partway on the couch he had fallen asleep on, waiting for Shouto to come home. Ochako had planned to stay until midnight, but Tenya got lucky and was sent home early, which was fine. If Ochako was there, she wouldn’t be giving them any peace, fake gagging in the corner and everything.

“Probably people in love,” Izuku finished, ready to pull Shouto on top of him to snuggle and fall back to sleep. But Shouto placed his hands on Izuku’s hip, gently detaching himself from Izuku. Izuku frowned, reaching back to grab Shouto’s arm to pull him back in.

“And here I thought you’d be eagerly awaiting my arrival so you could finally open your present,” Shouto said, walking toward the tree and grabbing the two remaining gifts. “Besides, we’re not sleeping on the couch. You have patrol in the morning.”

Izuku pulled himself to the edge of said couch, accepting Shouto’s gift. He yawned once before telling Shouto he wasn’t going to sleep all night on the couch, only part of the night. Based on Shouto’s look alone, he was unconvinced.

“Same time?” He asked, looking over his box and then at Shouto’s package.

“Same time,” Shouto agreed, sliding his thumb under the tape, and carefully lifting the paper. Izuku was less patient with his, especially when he already assumed he was going to be greeted with a velvet box. Beside him, Shouto had successfully revealed the pristine notebook. He thumbed over the lettering on the cover.

“Shouto’s Bedtime Stories for the Future,” he read, “by Midoriya Izuku, volume 1. Bold of you to assume you’d be getting a second volume, don’t you think?”

“The ending is really good; I think my audience will be clamoring for more.”

Shouto smiled, opening to the first page, eyes skimming across the lines. Izuku never really thought of himself as a storyteller. Mainly he was someone who could ramble for eon’s unless someone told him to stop. However, at some point during high school, he began telling Shouto little stories, which started as jokes but grew to be more elaborate. It was mostly nonsense fun, but Izuku would probably never get over how Shouto looked at him when he told them. Open and honest, completely enraptured.

“This is amazing Izu. I don’t know when you found the time to do this,” he held up the book, showing off one of the pages, “and the little cartoons?”

“We’ve been going on more long-distance missions and I know we can’t always talk so I figured this way a little piece of me gets to come with you wherever you go,” Izuku paused, “if you’ll have me, of course.”

“I love it,” Shouto said, closing the distance between them. “And I’ll always need you, thank you.”

Eventually, Shouto pulled away. “Your turn now.”

Izuku refocused on the red-velvet box. Without the wrapping, it was clear it was slightly bigger than the box their engagement rings came in. Nevertheless, Izuku still had to tease,

“Are you scared I forgot we were already engaged?”

“Open the box, Izuku,” Shouto said, wrapping his arm around his waist.

Izuku flipped the lid up. What he had expected was a white cushion with some sort of All Might pendant or maybe a Hero Shouto piece; however, there was no cushion, the object, a chain, was carefully wrapped in a circle propping up a small key in the center. Izuku pulled it up. His first reaction was that it was a house key, but it was far too small for that. It was more like a key for a filing cabinet, like the one he used in the latter part of high school to keep his analysis notebooks safe. But this key was attached to a chain, so it was meant to be worn, only it had to open something; it was a key. Unless it was one of those random keys antique stores sold, in which case, it was too small for that. Well, maybe not. It was rather intricate.

“And Katsuki said it would be obvious,” Shouto chuckled.

“I love it,” Izuku said.

“You don’t even know why I got it.”

“I don’t have to.” Izuku nodded. “You went out of your way and got me something because you love me and that is all that matters. In a couple of days when everyone is gushing over the gifts they got. I’ll be able to say mine is the best because it is. It’s certainly the prettiest. I mean, this shade of silver? It practically matches the color of your right eye. So obviously whenever I look at it I’ll be thinking about you and your gorgeous eyes and smile and face and—

“Do you want to know what it unlocks?”

“Oh yes, absolutely.”

Shouto, the brat, didn’t say it right away. First, he had to kiss Izuku’s cheek again, before moving his mouth to whisper right into Izuku’s ear. The action alone caused Izuku to shiver.

“My heart.”

Izuku waited five heartbeats before reacting. Heartbeat one was thinking he misheard him. Heartbeat two was realizing he hadn’t. Heartbeat three was waiting, followed by four, when he realized Shouto wasn’t five, kidding or going to elaborate further.

Izuku pursed his lips. “Okay, but what does it really open?”

Shouto pulled away, repeating, “My heart.”

Izuku looked back at the key and then back to Shouto, whose face was sincere. Shouto reached over, covering Izuku’s hands with his own, then closing them, wrapping away the key.

“It’s always been yours to hold.”

Izuku, seconds away from blinking back tears, quickly managed to close the distance between them. Shouto moved, preparing for another kiss, but Izuku ignored him, sticking his tongue out, and licking his cheek.

“Funny you don’t taste like cheese,” he said, though by the time he pulled away tears were already trailing down his face. “Stupid, sappy fiancé.”

“If you hate it, I can always take it back. I know Tenya was going to buy Ochako a car or something. We can go car shopping next week.”

Izuku clutched the key to his heart, “don’t you dare. I love it. It’s perfect. I can add my ring to it so then I’ll have two pieces of you, right over my own heart, always.”

Shouto smiled. “Right where I belong then.”

Izuku kept the present against his chest, warmth, and fondness bubbling to an almost dangerous level, he was sure. All the while, Shouto looked at him like he was special like he was something to hold on to. If they weren’t already engaged, Izuku was sure he would have asked at this very moment. This very sappy, happy, cliché moment where he would be able to offer Shouto forever if he just gave him his hand. However, past Izuku had already beat him—in a way that was not nearly as sentimental, so Izuku had to settle on,

“I love you.”

Shouto cupped his cheeks, spending time looking in each of his eyes before saying as well, “I love you too, sunshine.”

“3!”

“2!”

“1!”

JANUARY

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The crowd roared beyond them, though Shouto’s attention wasn’t on them. His focus was on Izuku, who had yelled out each number, until two, squeaking when Shouto pulled him into a kiss. A kiss Shouto was quite proud of, considering it had been at least four years since they were properly able to celebrate the New Year. And Izuku, while surprised, grasped onto his upper arms, fully succumbing to it. When they pulled away, his eyes reflected the fireworks going off somewhere in the distance over Momo’s penthouse.

“You’re beautiful,” Shouto whispered, while people cheered and whistled beyond them. Izuku blushed a steady warmth under Shouto’s fingertips. He would’ve been content to just hold Izuku like this the rest of the night, but the whistling was getting dramatic, and maybe Denki needed to be reminded of his place. However, when he pulled back the whistling didn’t stop but rather intensified. It didn’t take him long to figure out who their friends were targeting this year.

Ochako and Tenya were off to the side, and by far, the most secluded couple. If Shouto had to guess they had only shared a quick peck before taking in the rest of the room. Momo and Kyouka were on the balcony, currently toasting champagne. A bubble of privacy given to the hosts, which left Katsuki and Hitoshi in the center of the room.

“Absolutely disgusting.” Shouto said, “at a party no less.”

“I agree, I’m trying to keep down my alcohol,” Izuku commented before grimacing, “was that teeth?”

“I think he’s trying to eat him.”

“And now they’re moving closer.” Izuku fell into Shouto’s shoulder, “I’m scarred. How will we ever recover?”

Shouto rubbed the back of Izuku’s neck, catching the small hairs that didn’t quite make it into the bun Izuku had managed to wrangle his hair into this evening.

“At least we’re no longer the butt of the joke,” Shouto said, turning to at least pretend to give the couple privacy. Based on the jeering alone the rest of the guests weren’t being so gracious. “Which means if no one cares about us,” Shouto tilted Izuku’s head back up who was already pursing his lips. “We could leave early.”

Izuku snorted, pulling away from Shouto entirely.

“And here I thought you were actually excited about hanging out with all of our friends.”

“I was, and we did, and now I want to go home.”

Izuku untangled himself from his grasp. He kissed his cheek before stepping away. “We’ll leave soon, I promise,” he said just as Denki started shouting something about shots, quickly accompanied by everyone else. He gave Izuku a pointed look, who blinked innocently before turning, raising his hands in the air to join the call.

In no time he was at the center of a circle next to Ochako, who already had a bottle of tequila, and was pouring the liquid everywhere. Izuku was the first to grab from her assortment, downing it and cheering with everyone else once he was done. Shouto shook his head but smiled as Izuku turned back to him and waved. He waved back.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Katsuki said, manifesting beside him.

“You do realize what we were all subjected to watch, right?”

Based on the smirk alone, he could tell he was the furthest thing from ashamed. “Well, I’m not the one who has to be respectable. I’m not supposedly getting married in the next decade.”

“This year,” Shouto said, still watching Izuku as he handed a drink to Denki and Eijirou. Ochako was already waving her glass around. They started chanting a countdown, but the numbers were in no semblance of an order, and they all downed their drinks when they called out, “five!”

“We talked about it last week. Sometime in the fall so we have enough time to plan.”

Katsuki snorted.

“And our wonderful friends and family can overtake us when they realize we have no idea what we are doing.”

“That’s more like it,” Katsuki said, “I still remember Deku’s shitty cake ideas from a year ago. Shit gives me nightmares.”

“Denki’s lunch gives you nightmares and it’s just a sandwich.”

“It’s tuna, peanut butter, and Greek yogurt. I dare you to watch him eat it and not be disgusted with humanity.”

“If only someone had offered the convenient empty space in their office, so you didn’t have to put up with that.”

“As if that would have been any better, watching you and Deku make goo-goo eyes at each other all day as if that shit doesn’t already make me sick.”

“I mean I’m not complaining. We’re talking about getting a bigger couch for the office. Izuku’s not exactly small so we need the extra—

“I will throw you off of Ponytail’s balcony.”

Shouto smiled, taking a drink. They settled into a comfortable silence, watching as the shot group wrangled more people into drinking, causing quite the mess. He’d have to ask Momo before he left if she wanted him to come over sometime in the morning to help her clean it up.

In the center Izuku and Ochako were giggling amongst themselves, Izuku’s full smile coming out so frequently, Shouto was surprised no one was blinded by it.

Katsuki squeezed his shoulder, “we get it, you’re in love. Swear to god it’s like looking at a puppy.”

Shouto raised an eyebrow towards him, “do I have to remind you what you looked like when—”

“If you want me to blast your face off,” Katsuki said, letting go of his shoulder. Before he walked away, probably to call dibs on his shot, and to let everyone know they were doing it wrong, he said, “I am happy for you guys. It’s about time I got to give the best fucking best-man speech ever to spoken aloud.”

“Who said anything about you being a best man? Pretty sure Ochako is going to be Izuku’s maid of honor.”

“Fuck off Icy Hot,” Katsuki said, raising his middle finger and heading towards the group. “Go grab your stupid fiancé before he poisons himself on all the alcohol he can’t handle.”

Shouto would eventually grab Izuku and pull him away once he started to sway on a flat floor but would agree to another drink because, somehow, Izuku’s inability to gauge his body's tolerance left Shouto to be the one to make sure he stayed safe. And Shouto would. He would get him to the door, loosening the tie around his neck, and once they were safely out of the eyesight of the others, carry him down the stairs to their cab. Izuku would curl up and fall asleep against his side. It would be nice.

For now, Shouto only watched, sharing a few words with some of his friends he hadn’t seen in a while, ever slowly getting closer to Izuku, who turned and grinned up at him. A rim against Shouto’s lips before he could say anything.

“I missed you,” Izuku said as Shouto’s hand replaced his over the cup, drinking it dutifully before opening his arms for Izuku to fall into.

“I missed you too, sunshine,” Shouto whispered into his hair, knowing full well that this was the type of thing Katsuki would make fun of them for. What most of their friends would snicker at. But Shouto had stopped fighting it a while ago. Izuku was the sun; Shouto was forever trapped in his orbit.

Shouto padded into their bedroom, setting the teacup on the dresser he passed, making his way to the bathroom. He toed open the bathroom door, seeking out the light switch on the wall, flicking it on. It caused Izuku to groan.

“Go away.”

Shouto stepped further into the bathroom, kneeling beside Izuku, resting his head on the toilet seat. Blindly, he reached out to the counter behind them, grabbing a hair tie, before wrestling the curls out of his face. Izuku scrunched up his nose,

“I’m serious. I’m all gross and disgusting and bleh.”

“Bleh?”

“Bleh,” Izuku confirmed, sighing. “Besides it’s just a hangover. -t’s my own fault.”

Shouto started to rub, circles on his back. “Hangovers don’t usually last multiple days, sweetheart, I think it’s time to face reality.”

Izuku shut his eyes, “no—there was that one guy. He was always hungover. He slurred all his words, which made people doubt his skills, but he had a wicked punch. You remember? He knocked Kacchan out in one hit.”

“A quirk side-effect doesn’t count,” Shouto said, starting to stand, bracing his hands under Izuku’s armpits. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. I made you some tea and I have all seven seasons of that awful cartoon you love loaded up on the computer.”

“It’s a good cartoon, you just aren’t any fun,” Izuku said, letting himself be lifted, putting all his weight on Shouto’s shoulder as they left the room. “But I gotta go back to the agency today. There’s that case and I don’t think I finished the paperwork from last week’s case, so the police chief is really going to be on my ass if I don’t manage to get that in.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand, besides I already called us both in. You aren’t doing shit until you feel better, and no lying,” Shouto said sternly, “you’re allowed a break.”

“I had a break,” Izuku said, though he didn’t fight Shouto as he was placed back into their bed. “It was nice. There were fireworks.”

Shouto lifted Izuku’s feet and straightened him out. He pulled out a quilt and began thoroughly tucking Izuku in, whose eyes were closed, nestling into the blanket. He retreated, stepping around long sleeve t-shirts and athletic shorts, to grab the cup of the dresser. He set it next to the crackers, which were about the only thing his fiancé had managed to eat in the last twenty-four hours, on the nightstand when Izuku grabbed his wrist.

“You shouldn’t stay,” he whispered. Shouto hesitated, searching his face. His complexion was splotchy and while he hadn’t run a fever since last night, Shouto wasn’t convinced he had this thing beat. However, his eyes were starting to clear. Groggy, but sure. “People need you.”

“You need me,” Shouto replied. “Japan won’t fall apart because I’m not there.”

Shouto was a fool to think that Izuku would take that as it was. Izuku’s dream was to be a hero, for anyone to willingly give that up would be absurd.

“I’m okay.”

“I know.”

“Then go,” Izuku said, more steadfast. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”

Shouto moved his hand to grip Izuku’s, rubbing his wrist. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Shouto sighed, “okay,” stepping away from the bed. “But you call me the minute you don’t think you’re okay. And don’t think about sneaking out,” Shouto pointed at him, furrowing his brows to emphasize his point. “I have eyes all over this place. I will know.”

Izuku chuckled. “I won’t. I don’t think I can walk across the apartment let alone the front door.”

“Izu.”

“Which means it’s a good reason you already left me with everything I need right here,” he said, tapping the top of the blanket. Technically, he was correct. The computer was on the ground next to the bed. His nightstand had medicine and two bottles of water beside the tea and crackers—Shouto’s nightstand had three more bottles of water and there were granola bars in the drawer if Izuku was feeling like he could handle eating a little bit more.

“I’ll be back around lunch. If you want something, just text me. I’ll be sure to get it to you,” he said, hovering around the bed, resisting the urge to tuck Izuku in extra tight or offer to wet a washcloth for him to place over his forehead.

Izuku must have sensed it because soon enough he was saying, “go ahead, Shou. I’m fine. I’m going to take a nap and maybe watch some tv, okay?”

Shouto nodded, “yeah. I get it. I’m leaving,” he started towards the door. “Though I am serious, Izu. Call me if you need anything.”

Izuku smiled. “I will.”

Shouto nodded, forcing himself out the door, down the stairs, and into the blistering streets. January was always a slow month. Villains and heroes needed time to recuperate after the holiday seasons, but Shouto never minded the brevity of peace. He plunged his hands deep into his pockets and headed towards the agency. The winter snow sticking on tinted glass.

When Izuku was younger, he got sick. He got sick a lot.

Usually, it was nothing worse than a common cold. Sniffles in early October. When the rest of the kids were running around outside on the playground enjoying the last few warm days, Izuku spent them sitting against the concrete building with a tissue in one hand and his pencil in the other. His notebook precariously on his lap while he tried to remember all the exciting things that happened on the news before his mom shut off, complaining that they showed too graphic of things for her faint heart. Izuku never saw his mom faint before. He fainted once in Gym when he was too young to remember the explanation the doctor provided, and then several more times in middle school on those few occasions where his lunch ended up in the koi pond instead of his stomach. Fainting as a hero was concerning, sure, but usually could be written off as a side-effect of intense injuries, not something to investigate further.

Not something to waste sleep on.

There were times when annoying tickles and sneezes in October became gasping breaths, coughing, and coughing, and coughing until Izuku couldn’t see due to the abundance of tears welling up in his eyes, and not even then did the coughing cease. One year he got bronchitis and strep throat twice—once in the spring and once in the fall. He was put on an inhaler for three years. He never dared to use it at school, even when he was left struggling to breathe after Gym or hiding in the closet trying to be silent as his bully’s past.

His mom used to joke that the cabinet above the sink had more child cold remedies than most stores as she bought another tea that was supposed to provide miracle results or a rub that relieved both pain and congestion. Izuku’s favorites, of course, were All Might themed. He dutifully took the red and blue gummies every morning, believing that somehow All Might could even protect him from a cold.

Izuku never really thought about the years he stopped getting sick. Mostly because he still did get sick, just not as bad, nor as frequently. There was that one November at UA where the whole dorm—minus one annoying fiancé—got a stomach bug. Then there was his incident with mono—given to him by said stupid fiancé, who got it from sharing a bite of food with Ochako but showed no side-effects whatsoever.

The point was, Izuku wasn’t superhuman. Having an all-powerful quirk did not mean his body was immune to all types of danger. Viruses, no matter how much Izuku did his part to take his vitamins twice a day, and wash his hands after everything, still found a way to infect him, leaving him with an annoying cough or a frustrating sniffle.

He still ended up falling asleep on the couch at the Todoroki manor after Shouto’s birthday dinner, only briefly waking up on the cab ride home because the driver had the window open to smoke a cigarette. He woke up shivering so violently Shouto had to take the gloves off his hands to give him direct access to his heat. He fell back to sleep, as Shouto’s voice wound uptight, asking the driver to shut the window.

It left their fridge stocked with an eclectic assortment of teas and other herbal remedies, which Shouto had shipped from all over the world, most on the recommendation from Momo. It had Izuku eating mostly soups, made lovingly by his mom and angrily by Kacchan—scribbled notes to accompany each of them. It meant Shouto, leaving the comforting cocoon of blankets they managed to wrangle between the two of them, to go to the store to get cough medicine because for some reason Izuku was out again and if he didn’t stop coughing, he’d feel like he’d never properly breathed again. It was Shouto mentioning as the month neared its close that maybe Izuku should schedule his physical earlier this year, just to be safe.

But like all colds and flu's and pesky bugs, eventually, they passed. So, in January Izuku was sick. It was nothing he could not recover from.

FEBRUARY

“So, the trio raced down the corridor. Oda stopped, taking out two of the guards on their way to grab the device. As his companions slowed to help them, he yelled at them not to. Nevertheless, Ishijima nearly came to a stop, but Sumita grabbed his elbow, pulling him along, reminding him that this was bigger than all of them—that this was potentially the end of the world. Ishijima knew this, of course, so when it was between Sumita and another robot centennial, he pushed his partner forward, ready to die for the cause. However, Sumita managed to grab both the device and Ishijima’s upper arm, hitting the button just as the ship exploded, sending them hurtling through time and space.”

Izuku puffed up his cheeks, making the correct accompanying noise for his audience, before continuing.

“Space was full of color. Full of blues and greens and rosed reds intersecting on collapsing suns, dying planets, or dusting nebulas. It was both heavy and weightless. Judged under an audience of a million stars. Until, of course, they reached the end of everything. Or I supposed the beginning of everything. The start of an ever-expanding space to find the key to all their problems. They landed, still clutching each other from their trip through the void, only to stumble when the platform they were on began to move. Ishijima was the first to realize it, his eyes swiveling around, taking in the bumped raised texture and the regular rise and fall of the brown grass. Meanwhile, Sumita had tightened his hold around him, reaching for his gun, ready to fight whoever they found, when the creature—who they happened to be standing on—began to speak. It was a giant platypus in fact—”

Shouto snorted into the top of Izuku’s head. His arm was wrapped loosely around Izuku’s middle, playing with his hands as Izuku spoke. Their room was dark, save for Shouto’s lamplight, which cast everything in a soft glow, making even beige walls seem ethereal.

“I think that’s our sign that it’s time for bed,” Shouto said, sliding down to lay properly. “A flying platypus in the center of space makes no sense.”

“Well, how do you know?” Izuku asked, frowning down at his partner, “have you ever been to the center of space?”

“No, but everyone knows that at the center of space is a giant robot thing, which controls everything, using strict logic to make his choices. Not a platypus.”

“How is that not more insane than what I just said?”

Shouto twisted on his side, pulling himself tighter against Izuku. “Because everything in the universe is based on math, not whatever platypus’ like. What is a platypus even doing in space? They belong in lakes, or on land, at the very least.”

“Space is an ocean of stars and there are planets for him to land on,” Izuku said, still glowering, “Besides the story is almost done. Don’t you want to hear how it concludes?”

Shouto began to tug Izuku down. “Nope, you said that twenty minutes ago and we have an early morning at a school tomorrow.”

“But Shou,” Izuku whined, sliding down and wiggling until he was against Shouto’s chest, “we’re just about to get to the best part where we find out the key to the universe is love. Love saves the day. But in order to actually save it, they have to give up something they love. And Ishijima sacrifices—

Shouto pulled back from the short kiss. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“—sacrifices himself and the universe is saved—the end,” Izuku stuck out his tongue, “see I told you I could be fast.”

Shouto hummed, turning to lay on his back while trying to reach for his light switch.

“’m pretty sure that’s a bad ending, and you need the night to sleep on it.”

Izuku scoffed. “It’s an excellent ending; the day is saved.”

“It’s tragic. Your bad endings always kill off the character just before they’re about to get their chance at happiness.”

“It’s poetic.”

“It’s lazy,” Shouto said, successfully pulling on the string attached to the light, casting the room in shadows, just as Izuku lightly slapped his chest.

“I’d like to see you tell a three-part story with a moving plot, engaging characters, and an ending that leaves the audience both satisfied and wanting for more.”

“I’d like to see you try too.”

“That’s it,” Izuku said, pulling himself out of Shouto’s grasp. “I’m never telling you another story again.”

“Okay,” Shouto said, into Izuku’s back.

“I mean it.”

“I know,” Shouto said with a smile Izuku could feel on the back of his neck. Even while glowering in the dark, Izuku still wrapped his hands around the arm situated over his heart, holding it as if it was a stuffed animal. Into his ear, Shouto whispered, “love you.”

“I love you too,” Izuku grumbled, closing his eyes, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of Shouto’s heartbeat.

Something Izuku always found odd about being in the vestige’s world of One for All, was the lack of light. Sure, they were in some conjuration of space and space was dark between the speckles of starlight. But, those stars, though prolific, were so distant by the time they reached where Izuku stood, he was only seeing the memory of light, not actually witnessing it interact with this world. Even the largest one could only offer an impression of light, not actual warmth.

The others didn’t care about this. The most common answer was that this place wasn’t real. It didn’t exist somewhere in the deep unknown regions of space, only waiting to be discovered and saved. It existed in Izuku’s mind and in the minds of the holders before him. It was some manifestation of One for All, which allowed them to live eternally under the expectation that they could not interact with anyone outside of it. Izuku, the exception, of course. All Might too when he was alive.

But Izuku couldn’t be satisfied with only that answer. If it was simply a mental projection meant to house the users, why space? Why an empty room with fourteen chairs and no roof? Why did the star alignments change as if they were moving, as if they were on Earth watching the same set of stars go through their same set of rotations? Where was the sun?

“My boy,” All Might gently nudged him from his side, “you were saying.”

Izuku turned from the infinite starred night, devoid of all life, to his mentor beside him. All Might, like anyone here, was trapped in the body of his peak. For the others it was when they had died, for All Might—Izuku wondered if his own projection somehow looked different to the others. If they saw the version of himself who would end up here or the past version of himself who had defeated All for One? He didn’t ask. He didn’t think they worried about a thing like that.

“Sorry,” Izuku said, “lost in thought I guess.”

“I understand, planning a wedding is pretty distracting,” All Might said, “or so I’ve been told. Granted I did stand in a couple of weddings, even officiated one or two.”

“You officiated weddings?” Izuku’s eyes widened. “Can you officiate mine?”

All Might’s smile didn’t waver, but the crinkle around his eyes did lessen. Izuku slapped his hand over his mouth, apologizing.

It was hard, in this place that did and did not exist, to remember that he was surrounded by the dead. It was hard to believe that All Might was gone and not resting somewhere remote up north as the press had said years ago.

“The case,” All Might prompted again and Izuku forced himself to not think about it. He forced himself to think about the real world. His real world with villains and heroes and how ice cream cake was not a suitable option for a wedding reception, nor cake, a suitable first thing to think about when planning a wedding.

“Yes, so there’s this villain with a nature quirk and he’s the descendent of someone you fought twenty years ago, and I was wondering,” Izuku started, cataloging everything he knew and needed to know. Questions with definite answers for a problem that could easily be solved. In the distance, the other vestiges watched, waiting for something Izuku would not ask about. A breeze passed between them. It was cold.

“You’re late,” Katsuki said, as Izuku landed on the rooftop beside him. “I thought you said you only had paperwork, so this time worked.”

Izuku brushed off non-existent dust from his costume before rolling his shoulders and straightening. “Hi, Kacchan. Did I miss anything?”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. It was Shouto’s night off and Izuku had a long break between his patrol and now. However, Katsuki wasn’t particularly in the mood to ask his childhood friend about his evening up until that point. It would no doubt either make him sick or want to throw himself over the edge of the roof. Neither conducive to a night of defeating local crime.

“The idiots just got inside, toting about how stupid heroes are,” Katsuki rolled his eyes. “I say, I go in blasting, taking care of everything, while you handle oversight. If some fucker decides to run before, I get a chance to blast him, you can take care of it.”

Izuku nodded with his hand on his chin, surveying the warehouse below them. The moon was out tonight, giving them quite an advantage on what they could and could not see. Combined with the fresh snow, running away would be hard to do without leaving a trace.

“Do we know their quirks?”

“Of course, I know their quirks. I’ve been planning this case for four months now. Four mutants, six emitters. Quirkless driver.”

Izuku raised his hands in mock surrender, absolutely infuriating with his white cape and gloves and hair were a small piece curled between his eyes as he placated him. He looked every ounce like a superhero from a comic book, not the drained heroes they all were.

“I’m going in,” Katsuki said.

“Wait Kacchan, shouldn’t we double check—”

“I’ve tripled-checked everything. waiting for you to get here from who knows where. Don’t let anyone getaway.”

With that, Katsuki jumped off the roof. He didn’t bother with sneaking, there was no point with being coy. He simply blasted the hinges off the nearest door and went to work. It was pathetic how weak the villains were against him as he blasted one to his right and two to his left, making his way through their ranks until he was at the very center of the room before a large crate where the supply of four different types of drugs was supposed to be. It was empty. He swore, arm raised to explode the empty carton when taillights flooded the warehouse. The engine revved and the delivery van sped off.

Patiently, Katsuki waited for the moment Izuku’s green lightening would fall from the sky, purposefully landing in front of the car, which would either run into him or cause the driver to swerve into a light post. Katsuki counted seconds. It did not happen.

In a propulsion, he reached the exit. In another, he closed the distance significantly between him and the truck. Still, he was twenty seconds too slow. A gap forming between them instantly. At this rate, there was a high chance it would get to the more civilized part of the city, or worse, the interstate where it would be nearly impossible to stop him without affecting civilians. Katsuki launched himself again, narrowly missing the tail end of the van.

It was in brief moments like these, where he cursed himself for being weak. For not being a fraction of a second faster. The time and distance that kept him from successfully passing Deku in the charts.

Katsuki launched himself again, grabbing the doors securely when what sounded like a falling missile impacted the back of the van. The vehicle crumpled, bending in half. Rubber burned as the tires screeched, buckling, and popping as the van slid to the edge of the road. Katsuki was smart enough to let go of the van on impact, running as soon as his feet hit the ground. He readied himself for the driver to jump out and fight; but, based on the slumped figure in the front seat, the only thing he was going to have to do was ask for the police to send an ambulance.

On top of the wreckage, Izuku braced his hands on his knees. While Katsuki finished pulling the unconscious driver from the wreckage, Izuku stood, wiping his face on the back of his arm. It wasn’t until Katsuki had the person laid out a safe distance away from the ruined car did Izuku ask,

“Is he okay?”

“What the hell was that,” Katsuki asked, spinning and marching toward the destruction, which Izuku stood on top of.

“I misjudged my entry a little bit. He didn’t break anything, right?”

“Why on Earth did you let him get so far, to begin with,” Katsuki shouted, pointing to the warehouse, which they couldn’t even see from this distance. “You in need of some adrenaline so you let him nearly escape before you even decided to act. Not to mention how it’s going to take the police twice as long to recover the drugs which are so conveniently trapped inside a sardine can you had to crush, instead of simply taking out the driver like you’ve done countless other times.”

“Does it matter?” Izuku asked, hopping off the crash, “it’s all here. The mission was a success.”

“Does it matter? Of course, it fucking matters. Do you know how much paperwork a car chase entails? Not to mention me having to explain to the city why my colleague put a crater in the middle of a road on top of taking out the sidewalk. Oh, and the fact that he almost escaped due to your negligence.”

Izuku had the gall to roll his eyes. “I’ll talk to the city.”

As he passed, Katsuki grabbed his arm, pulling him to a stop. “What’s up with you? Heroics too boring for the Number One?”

Izuku ripped his arm out of his grasp, not even attempting to hide the challenge in his eyes. “The job’s done. Back off.”

Katsuki was prepared to challenge him further. Hell, he was prepared to knock some sense into him. However red and blue lights were echoing off the walls, and neither hero needed the bad press by fighting in the streets like they were petulant children. So instead of continuing to agitate Izuku, Katsuki dealt with the cops. By the time he was done, Izuku was gone.

The next day, his office received a phone call from the precinct. He grabbed his coat, telling Eijirou not to put his hands on his lunch, before heading out and braving the cold. It was a rather short walk to the police, but that didn’t stop him from cursing Deku. Because why else would the police have contacted him, other than to point out the massive detour their highly thought-out plan was? He had half the mind to stop in his tracks and go back to the agency, demanding Izuku come down with him. If he wasn’t already halfway to the police station, and it wasn’t so cold, he would have.

Katsuki didn’t bother with pleasantries, meeting with the secretary immediately, who after having him sign in, pointed him to the proper detective. Detective Kita was luckily someone he had worked frequently with and could read his mood from across the room. She was no bullshit and straight to the point.

“You misfiled your case last night,” she said. The necessary paperwork was already on her desk. “You reported no team injuries, but analysis found blood in two locations.”

“I didn’t misfile shit,” Katsuki said, pulling the paper towards him, reviewing it regardless. “Besides, what makes you think it wasn’t just one of the villains?”

Kita frowned, “you said in your report that Deku was held up by something, which is why he was late in intercepting. We investigated the rooftop to make sure there wasn’t another villain and found a small drop of blood there and then again on top of the van once it was brought into the lab.”

Katsuki closed the file, shaking his head. “Deku wasn’t injured—if he was, he didn’t say shit about it to me. Blood’s someone else’s.”

Kita’s brows furrowed more, sliding the case back to her side of the table. “Dynamight, you know we have a quirk for this type of thing.”

“Then they made a mistake,” Katsuki said, turning on his heel, “Deku doesn’t get injured by low-level thugs. But if it’s bothering you so much, get him to come in here himself. I’ve got more important shit to deal with than properly checking each box on a piece of paper no one is ever going to look at again anyway.”

Kita let him go.

He never did find out if Izuku was called into the precinct after him. He never found out why Izuku was late, to begin with.

MARCH

Ochako rounded the corner. She was due for a debrief in fifteen minutes but had taken a quick trip to the agency’s gym after lunch. Unfortunately, a lot of sidekicks and heroes had the same idea, leaving the gym bathrooms overfull, which wasn’t a big deal, Ochako had time to spare, walking to the other side of the agency to shower and change. If she hadn’t, there would have been no reason for her to be in the auxiliary locker rooms—used mainly for extra heroes when the agency hosted other agencies for team-up missions.

She, apparently, wasn’t the only one with this plan, as she passed the partially open door to the restroom area. She wouldn’t have stopped, however, she realized whoever was on the other side was getting sick, and probably needed help. She knocked on the door as she pushed it in, announcing herself. What she expected was a nervous intern. Or maybe a sidekick, who liked herself, had hit the gym after lunch but had gone a little too far. What she didn’t expect to see was Izuku on his knees in front of a toilet.

“Deku-kun,” she called, closing the door fully before dropping to his side and rubbing his back. “Are you okay? Do you need me to get you something? A water? Or I could call Shouto-kun?”

Izuku groaned. “Don’t.”

She rubbed his upper back, waiting for him to continue. He appeared as he had just come from the gym as well, wearing a black tank top and shorts, with sweat sticking to his neck, plastering his curls.

“Don’t what,” she prompted after a minute of silence, taking a moment to tie his hair back to his nape.

“Don’t call Shouto,” he said, cheek lying against the seat. “I don’t want him to worry.”

She stared at him for a moment, watching him breathe through his mouth with his eyes closed. “Just give me a moment, and I’ll be good to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call him? I don’t think he’s gone on his patrol yet and while I can help you get back to your office, weightlessness tends to make people more nauseous than less.”

Izuku shook his head the best he could against a toilet seat.

If she had found someone else in a bathroom, hiding from their partner, she would have thought they were fighting. Izuku getting sick because he was fighting with fiancé was something she could believe, if the couple ever fought—well, they probably did, but it was the type of fighting that after they walked away for a quiet moment, they returned to one another, sobbing apologies, and probably having gratuitous make-up sex.

She wrinkled her nose, pausing her hand movements on his back.

It wasn’t in Shouto’s nature, however, to leave a situation in such a state that Izuku would have gotten sick over it. It was very much in his nature, however, to, “he gave you food poisoning again, didn’t he.” She said it straightforward. No room for question. “I thought you banned him from the kitchen when he started the toaster on fire for the third time.”

Izuku’s lip quirked. “He’s only started the toaster on fire twice. The blender was the other time, but it was more because of his quirk, less because of his misuse of the thing.”

Ochako snorted, “I don’t think normal people make a habit of lighting things on fire.”

“Probably not,” Izuku said, moving to lean back up, flushing whatever he had left in the bowl. “You promise you won’t tell him, right? I don’t want to upset him.”

“Your secret will die with me,” she said sagely. “Though for the sake of your health, maybe try getting Katsuki-kun to teach him a few things.”

“We tried that in high school, remember? It ended with Kacchan asking Shouto if he was an idiot for presenting him raw chicken as fully cooked and Shouto eating the whole thing in one bite just to prove he wasn’t. I swear he’s lucky his body just naturally incinerates anything that’s not supposed to be there, or else he’d probably end up dead with what he puts in it.”

Ochako chuckled. “Well maybe convince him that you’re in love with take-out and hate homemade cooking, or else you’re going to spend the rest of your life either getting sick or picking around food, hoping to find the edible parts. Or just tell him his cooking is the worst thing in the world and actually makes you gag—Wait, that gives me an idea for what to get you for your wedding.”

Izuku didn’t comment, standing and walking to the sink to rinse out his mouth. Only when he was done did he say, “you don’t have to get us anything. You’re already doing so much.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, and you’re going to smile and cry and tell me how much of a great friend I am when I give you your gift,” she said, placing her hands on her hip. “Or else.”

A notification on her watch went off, letting her know her meeting was about to start. She shut it off, “I got to run. You sure you’ll be okay on your own?”

Izuku nodded. “Just paperwork for the rest of the day. I think I can manage.”

She nodded, giving him a quick hug. “Let me know how you’re feeling later, okay? Also bring Shouto over for dinner tomorrow, this way I know you’ll be eating one proper meal this week besides your mom’s food on Sunday.”

“Will do,” Izuku said, returning the hug, “thanks Ochako-kun.”

Ochako said bye again before she was racing back across the agency.

Ironically enough, she passed Shouto in one of the halls as he headed out on his patrol with Katsuki. They were engaged in a conversation, and nearly missed her when she passed, but they did smile at her after she greeted them, too rushed to stop for any more than that.

Later that night Izuku texted her, letting her know he was feeling a lot better. A picture of the couple’s take-out on the dining room table with Shouto, blurry and out of frame, blissfully unaware.

The first thing Izuku noticed upon entering the office was the painting. Throughout the conversation, his eyes kept drawing to it. It sat behind the desk, between two bookshelves, showcasing honors and accolades. It was a simple painting. The type that wasn’t supposed to invoke any stronger emotion other than tranquility.

It was a picture of the beach. The most pristine beach with white sands, turquoise water, crystal blue skies with the impression that the sun was shining high above, giving the water warmth and the air a certain heat that wasn’t suffocating. There was probably a gentle breeze.

Izuku could picture Shouto standing knee-deep in the water, searching the sandy bottom for shells because Izuku would have told him that he wanted to make a necklace out of them. Shouto would diligently kick through the sand, sifting and sorting, only deeming the best ones worthy to be worn, while Izuku grabbed whichever one caught his eye first. They would gather quite an assortment, too many really, and Izuku with no time once he came back home, would end up placing them in a jar to put on their bookshelf.

He could picture Shouto, straightening amongst the water, arching his back as the sun painted him in glowing white light. His eyes cracking open, to search for Izuku, just out of frame, causing him to reach out, offering his hand. He would ask Izuku why he was so far away, to begin with, and Izuku would close the distance, equally confused as to why he had chosen to stop where he had at the edge of the beach, and not stay directly at Shouto’s side where he belonged. It was probably because it was a picture and Shouto’s beauty could be inserted into anything without disrupting the scene. It was probably because deep down Izuku didn’t think he—

“Midoriya-san?”

Izuku’s eyes trailed from the beach where he could almost hear Shouto’s quiet laughter, to the person sitting across from them at the desk. Dr. Nagata had been his primary doctor since he graduated from UA. She wrote him his diet, recommended work-out routines, as well as dealt with most of the physical therapy after any injury Izuku sustained on the field. She was good at her job. She put him at ease when he wanted to be back out in the field on day one, and she reasoned waiting until day ten would give him a greater chance of being able to fight on day one hundred. She had an empathy quirk. Izuku never thought he needed something like that to give him any news on his health.

“You were saying,” he said, crossing his feet, “something about blood work? Is my vitamin D low again? I can up the milligrams like last time.”

Dr. Nagata folded her hands on top of her desk. “Why did you schedule your appointment with me so early?”

Izuku bit his cheek. Shouto, not at the beach like he deserved, hadn’t laughed in almost two weeks. It wasn’t something any of their friends had noticed—or would likely notice. Shouto was always quiet in a larger group, gravitating to Izuku or sometimes Katsuki if Izuku was wrangled into shenanigans with their other friends. The last time Shouto went so far inside of himself Izuku could do nothing for him but wait. Now? Izuku could pretend for only so long that he kept missing the concerned glances, or how quickly Shouto moved to action, offering to help Izuku get down the hall—as if Izuku was fragile as if he was injured.

“I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather,” he said, stretching out his fingers. “Just doing my part to make sure everything is okay.”

Dr. Nagata typed something out on her tablet. “I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with our relationship to seek me out earlier than we usually conduct these things. I want to be as transparent as possible with you, okay?” Izuku voiced his agreement and Dr. Nagata continued, “for starters, my colleagues and I think it is probable you are fine; however, we need to do another blood test.”

Izuku broke through the tender skin of his cheek. It didn’t take much. It was already swollen from when he reopened it two days ago—after dinner when he was trying his best to stay quiet in the bathroom.

“Okay. I can move around my upcoming schedule and come back in.”

“Actually, we were hoping to get it drawn today,” she said, setting her tablet down. “I don’t want to freak you out, but there was an anomaly. The quicker we put this to rest, the quicker we can move on to what’s really getting you sick.”

Izuku nodded, tongue prodding the wound, tasting the copper in his blood. “And if it’s not an anomaly?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that—not yet.”

“Come on doc? You know me better than that,” he said, pushing himself back into the chair in artificial nonchalance. “I’ll spend the rest of my day looking up potential problems and by the time I see you next, I’ll be convinced I have about twenty different diseases.”

Dr. Nagata sighed, tapping against her tablet screen before giving in. “In one of your samples there appeared to be a mutation in your blood cells. Unfortunately, the slide was cracked so we can’t tell if it’s an actual mutation or simply a smear. And since none of the other slides showcased this, we’re just airing on the side of caution. It’s not serious.”

“Okay,” he said, unclenching his hand. “I should have time to stop at the lab before I head out.”

Dr. Nagata gave him a tight grin. “I’ll call you as soon as I get word. Otherwise, you have a clean bill of health, even dropped those few pounds we talked about last time.”

Izuku tried to feel pride in that accomplishment. He tried to pay attention to the rest of the meeting. To the lab technician sometime later who missed his vein twice before, getting it right.

Shouto was waiting for him in the parking lot. He had borrowed Tenya’s car, and the windows were cracked, letting the warming air pass through the cabin. He was reading a book, pulling at his lip while his eyes scanned the page. Enthralled. He closed it as soon as Izuku opened the door.

“That was quick,” he said, placing the book on the center console. “Good news?”

Izuku buckled. His arm wasn’t sore, but he wore gauze, wrapping around his elbow like a brand. He might as well have kept his sleeves rolled up to showcase it.

“Not bad news,” he said, settling into the seat. His right hand drummed along the armrest, relieved when Shouto’s long fingers made their home in his. “They took more blood.”

Shouto arched his neck, checking to make sure no one was behind them, before backing up.

“Did they say why?”

Izuku chewed on his ruined cheek. Shouto’s hand was warm, never clammy, always perfect. He started to drive down the parking lot, stopping to let an old woman cross the street with her husband.

“Someone at the lab messed up my first sample,” Izuku said, watching the couple close the distance between themselves as the automatic doors opened, whispering amongst themselves. “Dr. Nagata said everything was fine, though.”

“I’m glad,” Shouto said, pulling out of the parking lot. He squeezed his hand. Izuku squeezed back.

Days later Izuku received a call. They were venue shopping. Well, really, Shouto and Izuku were snickering behind their hands at the exuberant places they were visiting while his mom and Rei gushed over archways and mahogany doors. Honestly, Izuku would marry Shouto anywhere. A decrypted alley. Their bathtub with the mildew that they could never get rid of. Even the agency locker room after a Saturday night all hands-on deck. But Izuku could appreciate the beauty in places like this. Where the wedding planner spoke about crisp lawns and seasonally appropriate flowers hanging from the ceiling in white, wicker baskets, matching a color scheme that managed not to clash with red and green—and wasn’t Christmas themed.

“You should get that,” Shouto said, swinging their arms back and forth. Not too far ahead Rei’s eyes sparkled, taking in the waterfall feature, while his mom joked that wherever they ended up, there’d probably be a waterfall with how much she’d be crying. “It’s the third time they’ve called.”

Fifth, actually, but Shouto had been talking with his mom when the second and third calls came in.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Izuku said, “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Shouto raised his eyebrow. “The agencies calling you and you think everything’s good?” Izuku could hear how insane he sounded if he tried to reason his way out of it. Perhaps, even more, insane if he ignored the gift of Shouto’s ignorance. “I’ll distract them if they ask.”

Izuku agreed, dropping Shouto’s hand. Their parents were laughing at a joke the planner made, and Shouto, with his hands in his pockets, casually strode up to be included in their conversation. Izuku turned, finding a somewhat secluded corner. After a deep breath, he pressed call.

“Midoriya-san, it’s good to finally hear from you,” Dr. Nagata said, “We got your results for your bloodwork and we’re wondering if you could come back in.”

Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat. Behind him, he could just make out the noise Shouto made, which wasn’t quite laughter but was so close to the real thing that Izuku on habit was ready to turn around and smile for him.

“How soon do you need me in?”

“Preferably as soon as possible, though with your schedule I can see how that could be a problem.”

“So, it’s not serious.”

Dr. Nagata was silent for a moment as if carefully choosing her words from a curated list. “I don’t want to unnecessarily frighten you Midoriya-san, but we think it’s best if—”

“I’ll be in tomorrow,” he said, tapping his foot against the floor to fight against the white noise, playing in his ears. “I’m sorry if there’s an appointment available that is.”

Shouto, as soon as Izuku was back within reach, grabbed his hand, pulling him to the side. “Our parents are trying ice cream flavors right now. Apparently, this place offers both a regular bar and an ice cream bar for some reason. How was the call?”

“It was for a volunteer event coming up. They wanted to make sure I could make it,” Izuku heard himself say, without actually processing it. “I told you it was nothing to worry about.”

Izuku tried to smile. He wondered if Shouto bought the lie, or if rather, he was too nice to call Izuku out on it while they planned their wedding of all things. What Shouto did do, was say, “that’s good,” before tugging him along to wherever their parents had gone, under the premise of getting to eat some free ice cream. Izuku didn’t want to say that the thought of eating anything made his stomach roll.

It turns out when a room full of doctors tell you they don’t know what’s wrong, not even a serene picture of a beach is enough to believe the lie that is you being okay.

Shouto bought white roses on Sunday. He bought three bouquets—at different times, to make sure he didn’t accidentally damage them throughout the day. One went with Midoriya Inko to sit on her counter while they enjoyed a family lunch, sometimes as a trio, other times only a pair. Her apartment in Musutafu was the closest thing Shouto ever had to a pleasant childhood home, even if the first time he stepped into the home he was sixteen with no social awareness about how one interacted with parents. Inko, however, was a blessed woman. Open to giving unprompted motherly advice and two batches of cookies on their way out the door. She gave love away as easily as her son. It was a nice orbit to find himself in.

The second bouquet went to his mother, who he visited after having lunch with Inko and Izuku, or after his morning patrol if things didn’t quite work out the way they should. His mother’s home was filled with flowers. Her gardens always the first to bloom in the spring, and her living room a haven for her favorite plants during the coldest seasons. A tad ironic, given his mother’s deposition with the cold. She gushed about the roses every time, reminding him about their old gardens back at the Todoroki manor. He never told her about how he had dreams about burning those flowers, killing them with a gentle frost because he could. Because there was no one there to care.

His mother placed them in the same purple vase, which sat on the ledge overlooking the porch. No matter the weather, they sat underneath them, enjoying tea, and catching up.

The third bouquet was Izuku’s. Izuku, who received his gift last, because more often than not, after spending a couple of hours with his mom, Shouto would have to do a quick stop at the agency to either fill in a patrol, or double-check someone’s paperwork. If he had his way, he wouldn’t have to bother with this step. He’d simply step off the train from Musutafu and keep walking until he reached his apartment complex—until he reached Izuku. But Izuku was steadfast in their work ethic. Shouto could not give in that area no matter how much he wanted to—no matter how much he wanted to.

The apartment was dark when he entered. Shouto didn’t bother with the light, hearing the shower. He placed Izuku’s flowers on the coffee table, replacing the ones he had thrown out earlier in the day. Softly, he padded down the hall, pulling off his jacket, and undoing his belt. The bathroom door was open a crack, casting an orange light over their bed. Shouto tossed his phone and watch onto it, unbuttoning his shirt and making his way towards the door.

Inside the bathroom, Izuku was humming, nearly drowned out by the overhead fan. The curtain to the shower was drawn closed, leaving Shouto only the impression of his fiancé as he washed his hair. He dropped the rest of his clothes, pulling back the curtain, a greeting right on the tip of his tongue.

“Hey beautiful,” Izuku said, turning his neck, and lifting his head, asking for a kiss, which Shouto did not give, stuck partway between the opening of the curtain, and the humidity of the shower. “Shou?” Izuku started to turn fully. “Hey, are you okay—

Shouto grabbed Izuku’s upper arm, almost too scared to touch, keeping him in place.

“What happened,” his voice barely made it above the hiss of the water, beating against the teal tile and Izuku’s skin. Shouto had half the mind to jerk and pull him out of the spray. To shield his body with his own.

“What are you talking about,” Izuku asked, pushing against Shouto’s hold and searching his face for some type of clue. Almost robotically, Shouto ripped the curtain the rest of the way open. Distantly he felt Izuku shiver, his right hand warming to accommodate him, while his right hand reached out to the fog-covered glass, only feet away. The condensation across the glass cracked into frozen fractals, the airdropping to turn humidity into snow, caught in a flurry from the above fan. Even the shower went from hot to warm to cold, nearly freezing in the pipes if Izuku’s voice hadn’t cut through. If he hadn’t sworn.

“What the hell, Shouto?”

And then warmth. A slapped palm against the glass, killing the ice, their dancing patterns, revealing a crying mirror and their naked bodies. His own pale and ghostly, next to Izuku furious, freckled, and scarred.

“What’s the matter with you,” Izuku asked, fully free from Shouto’s grasp, advancing on him in the small space. His back turned to the mirror.

It was worse. It was worse seeing properly under the light, through a warped mirror.

“What happened,” Shouto asked again, and maybe it was because this time, his finger’s ghosted along his shoulder blades and down his back that Izuku thought to turn to see what Shouto saw. A deep, dark-purple, crescent, arched in his upper back melting into blue with angry yellow edges. Its southern point, dripping into another cacophony of purples and pinks, of another bruise that wrapped around Izuku’s waist. And worse, the pink marks beginning to show where Shouto had initially grabbed him. At least two fingerprints, becoming permanent.

Izuku’s mouth opened and closed. Honest in his silence as he pulled away. At first, Shouto assumed to step out of the tub to get a better look at the damage in the mirror, but instead, Izuku pulled the curtain closed, almost delicately, and turned back to the showerhead still leaking temperate water. He turned the dial as high as it went, scrubbing at his skin with a ferocity that Shouto knew would leave a mark.

Meanwhile, Shouto slid down the shower wall, landing on the tub floor. He watched as Izuku’s body pulled taut and relaxed around bruised skin that was not bruised a day prior. He waited for Izuku to explain. To say how, or brag about the rather tough villain, but he managed to defeat him in the end.

It did not come—deep down Shouto knew it would not, he knew his schedule, didn’t he? He knew that there was no villain encounter, which left Izuku this battered where they wouldn’t have called Shouto in for backup.

Izuku put his soap down, his hand hesitating at the knob before dropping it. He started for the curtain again.

“Izuku?”

Izuku’s hand shook where he held the curtain. Shouto waited. He held his breath and waited for Izuku to speak because Izuku was always the best at speaking, and somehow through all his rambling words he managed to always calm down Shouto’s racing heart. A heart, which right now, was beating so fast he thought he might pass out from the exertion. Between them water kept plummeting to the ground, catching in the divots, and swirling around their feet. Izuku took a deep breath. Shouto watched the bruises on his back rise and fall.

“It looks worse than it is,” Izuku said, “I’m fine. I promise.”

With that Izuku stepped out of the shower, leaving the water running and the room to return to its normal humidity, hiding away what shouldn’t be seen. Shouto tasted bile on his tongue. His limbs, dead and useless to move. He traced the patterns of water, long after the heat ran out. But his mind didn’t settle. It couldn’t settle. It couldn’t ignore the pit in his stomach.

Shouto bought white roses every Sunday. He bought them because when he was younger their backyard was full of them. Snowy blooms, untainted, and undamaged. When his mother was brought away, his father paid someone to paint them red. After the first rain, the pathways flowed with watery blood. The flowers remained stained. Sitting in the shower, watching the clear water run, barely making out the sound of Izuku going to bed, felt like that somehow.

APRIL

“You’re not serious,” Izuku asked. He was sitting in a different office than he was used to. One with giant windows to see the skyline with its foggy blue distance. “I get a couple of colds and now you want to pull me from my job?”

He was sold on this meeting as a consultation. Dr. Nagata sat on a couch to his left, though she hadn’t said anything except to clarify Izuku’s medical history. Across from him stood an old doctor. Almost as old as Recovery Girl if he had to guess. Dr. Tsukishima clasped his hands together.

“I understand how difficult this might be for you to hear, but until we have a better understanding of what’s going on, we feel like it’s important for your safety and the safety of those you save if you stepped back from fieldwork.”

“And how exactly do you plan I do that without inciting a panic? People trust me. They need to believe I’ll be there to save them no matter what.”

“There are other heroes. Your health is—”

“If I go out there, will I die?”

It was meant to be a harsh stop gate. Whatever was wrong with Izuku, couldn’t be as drastic as death. The two doctors shared a look. He felt it in his stomach.

“We don’t want to jump to conclusions,” Dr. Nagata started to placate.

“Something is killing your body,” Dr. Tsukishima interrupted. “MRI’s have been inconclusive, but if you continue to act like nothing is wrong it is probable that it will hasten the process. As a qualified medical professional, I must report this to your agency. I must recommend your suspension until you are—

Izuku didn’t wait for him to finish. He stood up, chair screeching across the floor, and left. He ignored the doctor who called him back. He kept his head low, dipping between hospital staff and patience until he found the sanctuary of the elevator. He gripped the ledge, counting backward from ten, begging his legs not to give out.

Only once, had he collapsed in an elevator and that was because All Might had told him he was going to die—that it was the only way.

“Deku-san?”

Izuku reopened his eyes, glancing down to see a little girl with crazed purple hair and bandages up and down her arms, staring up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. Her face split into a grin, as she reaffirmed who had stumbled into the elevator with her.

“Deku-san!”

He was thankful he was holding the railing, as the girl launched herself at his knees. Immediately, babbling about how he was her favorite hero and that she had all his action figures, and one day she wanted to be a hero too, just like him. Izuku ended up kneeling, listening to her talk, long after the elevator doors opened.

Nurses cooed at the sight, and patients snapped photos, posting them online to talk about how gracious their Hero Deku was. How important it was for their society to have someone to come and talk to sick children. To give them hope.

Izuku wondered when he would begin to run out of the lies, he kept hiding behind, signing backpacks and clipboards, ignoring the moment Shouto ran into the waiting room, searching the crowd, eyes landing on him. Izuku swallowed around the displeasure he saw on his face.

“This is Mercy Medical calling on behalf of Midoriya Izuku. He missed his latest appointment. If he calls back to reschedule before April 27th, insurance won’t charge him for the error. Please have him call us back at XXX-XXX-XXXX”

“Hello, I’m Kusano Sasaka, calling on behalf of Mercy Medical. Midoriya Izuku was scheduled for a follow-up with Dr. Nagata this afternoon and he didn’t show up. Please inform him that the best way to reschedule an appointment is by calling the hospital a day ahead of his scheduled visit, and if he needs to reschedule a visit, he can either do so online or call us back at XXX-XXX-XXXX”

“Hello! This is Mercy Medical calling…

Shouto watched the timer on the voicemail countdown, as he laid his phone face-up. Not on speaker—he didn’t need to hear what the other side was trying to say to him.

Five years ago, they had agreed to be each other’s emergency contacts. It was after a rather boring battle, but due to a hack job of a phone call to Izuku’s mom, which made her think her son was dying and she wouldn’t be able to see him again. Most of the time, Shouto didn’t need the hospital calling to let him know his fiancé was due in surgery or was stable, waiting in his room to be discharged. Shouto didn’t need those calls because he was always seconds behind the ambulance that brought Izuku in.

Now?

Shouto replayed the message. He watched the timer go down.

Izuku was late.

Their dinner, cold and left open in styrofoam containers. Shouto feared if he began to pack it up, he’d end up throwing the contents across the room, staining the walls in brown and red. So, it sat, untouched on the table with two glasses of water and his phone, playing a voicemail Shouto was tired of hearing, on loop.

The door opened. Shouto squeezed both of his hands, grinding his teeth. Izuku stepped into their foyer, toed off his shoes, and dropped his messenger bag. He was pulling at his tie when he saw Shouto at the table with their dinner.

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me,” Izuku said, stepping towards him. His tie successfully loosened, as he began to work at the top couple buttons of his shirt. “I had a pretty late lunch, actually, though this looks great. From that place down the street? Wait—did you get the dumplings?”

Izuku reached for the greasy bag, as Shouto hit play again.

“Hello, this is Dr. Nagata, calling on behalf of Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya-san has you listed as his primary contact at that hospital, and I don’t mean to alarm you, but we have been unable to get ahold of him. He needs to confirm his appointment with us tomorrow. If he has changed his number or needs to reschedule the appointment, please have him call me. My office number is XXX-XXX-XXXX. Thank you for your time.”

Izuku swallowed, his face paling as he extracted his hand from the bag. He opened his mouth.

“Don’t lie to me,” Shouto said. The temperatures on either side of him spiking to match his anger. Izuku took the moment to study his face until he collapsed in the chair across from him. Sitting down, Shouto could make out the bruises under his eyes and the way his shirt hung off of him a little bit looser than it was a month ago. He was tired. Shouto was tired too.

“Can I tell you a story?”

Shouto barely felt the sting across the back of his right hand where he hit his glass of water, sending it flying into the wall where it shattered, water and glass flying everywhere. He didn’t feel it because he was too busy yelling,

“Stop lying to me!”

Izuku stared at the wall—at the splattered imprint the glass left. “Once upon a time, there was a boy—”

“Izuku. I swear,” Shouto said, pushing back his chair, “tell me the truth. What’s going on.”

“—and you see he had a dream. It was an incredible dream. Unbelievable centuries ago,” Izuku took a deep breath, “but in the modern world, it was as simple as any other job. He wanted to be—”

The table rattled where Shouto slammed his palms into it. It shook Izuku’s remaining glass of water and knocked the bag of food down.

“The truth,” Shouto growled, waiting, and watching as Izuku picked up his chopsticks, pulling the nearest styrofoam container closer to him.

“He wanted to be a hero.”

Shouto stood up and started walking. He kicked off his slippers, sending one down the hall and the other into the wall. He didn’t have to turn around to know Izuku was holding back tears. Shouto’s own vision burned as he shoved his feet into his shoes. At the moment Shouto opened the door, Izuku fell out of his chair, stumbling towards him.

“Wait, Shou,” he called, rubbing his eyes on the back of his sleeve. Shouto hesitated, hand gripping the nob, coating it in a small layer of ice, before melting it away. Somehow, he still towered over Izuku when he stopped feet away. “He wanted to be a hero that saved everyone with a smile. He didn’t want to rely—

“You’re pathetic,” Shouto said, slamming the door.

“Deku-san!” A reporter called as he left the school. He waved one last time to the children, each of whom had drawn pictures depicting their favorite hero. He had one folded in his pocket from a very insistent kindergartener who had drawn Shouto. He figured he’d frame it in his office at work. Let it give him something to hope for.

“Is there a reason you haven’t been on regular patrol for almost a week?”

The reporter, amongst only three, four, others, was standing at the street corner. Officially off of school property, waving a microphone at him. Only one had a camera on his shoulder. Izuku knew the question had no malicious intent. He knew it was only a soundbite, a throwaway headline. Something to appease the afternoon talk shows before the evening news picked up on a bigger story. There was always a bigger story.

Izuku gave them his best Deku smile. He said, “I’ve been volunteering around local schools. As you know crime has been low and I want to make sure I tell every child they can follow their dream before things pick back up.”

He intended to conclude with that. He intended to walk right by them and get into the waiting car and head to the agency where he would argue with his superiors about being allowed to go on patrol, if only for an hour, and ignore the daily voicemail his doctor was leaving him. What he didn’t expect was this,

“What do you say to the allegations that Shouto-san has been sleeping at his office the last three nights, and you two are about to call off your engagement?”

Izuku hesitated at the car door. Shouto had left him two notes, both finishing with, “I love you, sunshine.” Izuku didn’t want to think that his time away would lead him to conclude something else. Shouto always came back. Always.

He opened the car door.

“I love Todoroki Shouto,” he said, stepping into his seat. “Nothing will stop me from marrying him.”

“All Might.”

All Might paused in his speech. He had been discussing the pros and cons of heroes being asked to leave the country to help other nations. Izuku never did end up taking that year in America that he always planned to do in high school. Something to do with the fact that he didn’t want to fall behind Shouto and Katsuki, who always planned to stay. Something about becoming the Number One hero as fast as possible. Something about not being able to leave.

“Yes.” All Might said, turning to look at him, towering above him, but with a smile, nonetheless.

“I’m sick.”

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes lost their depth.

“Well, I used to get sick every once and a while too. Just take the recommended time off by the agency, drink lots of fluids, and you’ll be good to go by the end of the week.”

Izuku thought he could do it. He thought he could tell his mentor that it wasn’t a simple cold and that the doctors were finding more. He wanted to say that he had been sick since at least January, if not longer and he was scared. But he couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t tell him that they had failed.

It was a panel of doctors this time, sitting in a boardroom on the top floor of the hospital. Izuku sat at the foot of the table, furthest from the door. He wondered if that was intentional. To his left, a neurologist was going over scans of his brain, pointing out all the ways it hadn’t been affected by the rest of his broken body. Izuku figured he should have been relieved by the news. Only there was a bright spot on his brain, pulsating. Another doctor asked about it, and the neurologist wrote him off.

“It’s only his quirk,” he said, “if we look at CT scans of Yagi Toshinori when he was at the patient’s age, we can see a similar manifestation.” He brought up the proper slides. The doctors all hummed their agreements. The next one to come up was the cardiologist. She had less good news to say.

They said that every case was unique and because of that, no two treatments were the same. Truly, Izuku wondered how unique his case actually was, or rather why the doctors hadn’t put the pieces together about what was slowly destroying his body. The cardiologist could not say for certain why undamaged blood cells only appeared to be damaged after going through his heart. The gastroenterologist didn’t want to rule out ulcers even though nothing appeared in the initial photography. No one could say why Izuku’s body was turning on itself.

No one, of course, but Izuku—but for the first time since getting One for All, Izuku didn’t want to rush into action. He did not want to jump to conclusions. He stared at the file of himself, re-reading old injuries while doctors and specialists argued over what’s the best next treatment. It was only a matter of time before they settled on more invasive treatments, something a lot worse than an intern not being able to find a vein in his arm or being told to sit still while a machine hummed to life around him.

It was a matter of time before Izuku was forced to say the truth, sticky and unwell at the back of his throat.

Izuku hung at the top of the world, his quirk electrified around him, keeping him suspended in the air. Without it the wind would take him, taking his limbs while it threw around debris and purple storm clouds. They weren’t losing the battle, but they weren’t winning either. A destructive stalemate that would cost more lives the longer it went on. Izuku’s grip on his quirk faltered, dropping him a few feet in the air, a piece of glass nicking his cheek. Somewhere a maniac laughed, calling him back to the fray, while he tortured an innocent soul. Izuku needed to move. He needed to act. One for All was surging, building up in his veins, moments away from destruction.

“Izuku!”

Izuku turned, hair whipping in the wind. Not far below, partially hidden in the smog and destruction was Shouto, suspended on a pillar of ice, reaching out his hand—reaching for Izuku. His fingers stretched further.

“Let us help you,” he yelled, his ice groaning under the pressure. “Share it with us.”

Beyond him he could make out Katsuki, the others, maybe it was foolish to think by taking Shouto’s hand they could win this. The others had said together was the only way—

“Please,” Shouto said, ice pushing him up more so that he was right there, left hand perfect to grab. “Take my hand, Izuku.”

And Izuku had.

Izuku sat up, sheets tangled around his middle, pillow damp. The place beside him, empty. He downed a glass of water, counting figurines on top of his dresser. How many different red pieces of clothing he could see.

It was in this silence of his room that he heard the living room window slide shut. It was a rush to get the sheets off of him and launch himself toward his bedroom door to leave.

For all his theatrics, anger, and pain, Shouto did not leave without coming back. Each night, in the dead of night, he slipped between the small opening and collapsed onto the couch for a couple of hours of sleep, only to be gone by the time Izuku came out in the morning. But this night, Izuku found Shouto, not on the couch, but the ground, sitting in front of the window he had crawled through, with a blanket lazily draped across his arms. Izuku wanted to ask him what he saw. What was so magical about a darkened night with only fluorescent pinks and greens. One new star, which glowed too bright for the rest of the nighttime sky.

“Shouto?”

Shouto did not turn. He did not speak. The room warmed. Izuku realized that he was shivering. He had been shivering every night, alone. He stepped behind the couch. The floor, quiet as he passed. He was scared of what he would see when he finally reached his destination. Scared about what Shouto discovered in his time away. If love was on a timer, and theirs was rapidly reaching its conclusion.

“I am sorry,” were Shouto’s first words. Not looking at Izuku, but the fire escape that blocked their view. “I want to understand, but you owe me no explanation if you don’t want to give it.”

It was enough to cause Izuku’s knees to buckle. The floor, hard where he landed. But not for long. Shouto, without hesitation, pulled him from the ground, onto his lap, wrapping two arms around his frame and holding him close. Izuku could count his heartbeats with his breaths. Alive and well.

He could fall asleep, safe in knowing he would wake up the next day. But if there wasn’t a time limit on love, there was one on something else.

“Shouto,” Izuku said again because if he didn’t do it now, it would stay incomplete. Intangible. Unreal. “I’m sick.”

“I know,” Shouto whispered, tracing star patterns onto Izuku’s back. Izuku blinked, squeezing his eyes shut.

“The doctors don’t know what’s wrong,” he continued, waiting for the moment Shouto’s finger froze in its pattern. The shuddered breath he made whenever his family disappointed him. The quick deniability. But this was Shouto. He knew Izuku better than that. Better than anyone, probably.

“Just because they don’t know today, doesn’t mean they won’t know tomorrow. It doesn’t mean we should give up,” he said, “I don’t plan to. Do you?”

Izuku shook his head, swallowing back tears as his heart rate picked up, something shifting, something that felt irrevocable. But Shouto did not let him collapse too far, asking into that darkened room what Izuku had tried to use as a shield, days prior.

“I’d like to hear about the story about your dream.”

Izuku took a deep breath, and he did. The starlight didn’t change. The car horns didn’t lessen. Their next-door neighbor got up at exactly three to use the bathroom, banging on every wall he passed. There was no cataclysmic event, coming from his acceptance of something the doctors were days away from realizing too. Perhaps there was no change since the only person Izuku allowed to know that he was not whole, was already scraping together enough pieces of himself to fill into Izuku’s cracks.

When he was done, Shouto tilted his head, speaking right to him. “I think it’s honorable that your dream has never wavered. My precious hero.”

“What about you,” Izuku asked, instead of sitting on the fact that there was no honor in being scared. Scared that if he left the confines of everything he had ever wanted, he’d be faced with the reality that he was missing something more. “Has your dream changed?”

Shouto shifted Izuku in his lap. He was quiet for a long moment. “No. It never has.”

It was the users first. They knew everything after all. The beginning. The middle. The end. This unproven epilogue.

“We misjudged how much time they gave you,” one said.

All Might beside him didn’t look up. No infinities in closed eyes.

“One for All is breaking down.”

Perhaps in its creation, the vestige world knew it would never be a place of warmth. Perhaps that was why there were only gray stars. Perhaps that was why there was no sun.

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Chapter 1: To Have and To Hold

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