Chapter Text
Great. Just great. Exactly what he wanted today, to be left alone in a loud mall full of people. Izuku hadn’t even wanted to go to the mall today. Uraraka had begged him to come, and as annoyed as he had been, he relented. And now he was alone after she had fled, likely out of nerves. Izuku had known for a while now that she had a crush on him, although he was sure she was unaware that he knew, or else she’d be a lot more awkward. He had thought ignoring it would make things between them better, but apparently not. Not like he’d be into her either way, seeing as Izuku was very gay. He sighed, and started walking. Maybe he’d see something interesting.
Nope, nothing interesting. Uraraka had texted an apology for leaving, citing a family emergency. He knew that was an excuse. Well, at least he could go home now. But before he could take the next step, he froze, feeling a hand wrap around his throat, albeit awkwardly positioned, the pinky finger raised as if his captor had a five-finger activation quirk. He would’ve yelped, had the other hand not covered his mouth, preventing him from screaming for help.
“Calm down little hero, I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to talk.”
Tomura Shigaraki, leader of the fucking league of villains, was stood behind him with his hands right on his face. Nope, not terrifying at all. But on the other hand, if Shigaraki wanted to hurt him, he would’ve already. His breaths evened out as the hand was removed from his mouth. Alright Deku, just gotta act friendly with Tomura Shigaraki. Nothing could go wrong.
He squeaked in surprise when Shigraki next spoke, “Do I need to keep my hand around your neck to keep you from running, or can we be civil?”
“No, I’ll be good.” He was proud that he managed to keep the shakiness out of his voice. “If you want to talk, let’s find a cafe to sit and talk.” He clasped Shigaraki’s hand, careful to only grab four of his fingers, and tugged him in the direction of the cafe.
Later, when Izuku was alone, he would find his mind running over the encounter, playing it on repeat nonstop. His hand would wrap around his throat, similar to how Shigaraki’s had been only a few hours before. His words had elicited a new feeling, he didn’t quite know what to call it. “You’re great at analysis, anyone who tells you otherwise is insanely stupid.” or “I’ll be seeing you again soon, little hero.” The words felt good, although it was strange how profoundly it impacted him. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing Shigaraki at all, or at least he kept telling himself that anyway.
How had he never noticed how pretty Shigaraki was before? His hair looked so soft, he just wanted to touch it. And his lips too. He wondered what Shigaraki would taste like. He really looked better when he wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of disembodied hands. Speaking of hands, why didn’t Shigaraki wear artist gloves? He had held his drink with his pinky raised, and with how comfortable and familiar the gesture appeared to be, it looked like he was used to holding things like that. Artist gloves would make it so much easier for him, and help with the hand cramps Izuku was sure he must have had. Izuku resolved to buy him a pair, and carry them on him until he next saw him, since he had no way to contact him. Hopefully he’d see Shigaraki again soon. He would order a pair of artist gloves, green, like his hair, like his eyes, and his favorite color, although then again, blue was really growing on him. Why green, he didn’t know, or so he told himself. So maybe he wanted them to remind Shigaraki of him, sue him. Shigaraki was hot. Maybe he should redraw Shigaraki in his notebook.
He’d fall asleep updating his analysis of Shigaraki, and would wake up from his dream the next morning in a panic, happy and rather flustered, before worrying Shigaraki had infiltrated UA, until realising it was just a dream. He’d wonder why he had dreamed of Shigaraki. He’d lie, pretend nothing had been amiss at the trip to the mall. And his thoughts would be stuck on Shigaraki for a long while. But for now, the two boys sat down at a booth in the back corner of some random cafe, and began to talk.