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Izuku approaches Haru twice before Haru approaches first.
The Sunshine leader of the Hell Class is known for taking an interest in any and all people. He remembers names and Quirks and even the tiniest of details about people, can greet seemingly half of the school by name at even just a glance.
And, perhaps most remarkably of all, he actively pays attention to those who stay in the shadows, who fall back onto the sidelines, barely noticed themselves. Midoriya Izuku sees every single one of them. He does not highlight them, does not expose them to a light they do not want. No, he will nod to them in passing and, in quiet moments, slip over to them in a way that is far more subtle than someone of his notoriety should be able to.
This exact phenomenon is what happens to Haru. He is in a corner of the library, one where he is isolated enough that he can study without others' Quirks interfering with his concentration. As such, suffice to say that Haru very much notices when the sheer gravity of the room increases, an emanating warmth washing over him. (It really is remarkable how Midoriya is powerful enough for his Quirk's impression to be so very tangible. Not even any of the teacher, hero or otherwise, feel like this.)
"Hello," Haru murmurs, only just loud enough to be sure that it will carry to the other boy. He gets a small but very notably bright smile.
"Hi. Sorry for interrupting you, I can definitely leave you alone for now if you're super busy!"
The blatantly genuine offer is a surprise in and of itself. Not to the point that Haru lets it seep onto his face, but still very much a surprise all the same. Haru isn't sure if it's that fact or something in the way that, despite his outward confidence, the shadows of his Quirk curls around his shoulders (there are glimpses of what could be hands in his hair, on his back, around his arm, blatant reassurances and from a Quirk that isn't outwardly sentient at that-) as though to bolster him, but he finds himself nodding all the same.
"Nothing urgent." He takes a deep breath, steadying himself through the abrupt draw from the ever-closer presence, and decides to speak up again,
"It's Midoriya Izuku, right?"
"Ah, yeh. Guess my reputation precedes me," Midoriya chuckles, sheepish, rubbing at the back of his now-red neck. The humility isn't a surprise, it's a notable part of said reputation in fact, but it's good to see it in person.
"Nothing bad, Midoriya-kun, you don't need to worry," Haru assures, not quite liking the way that Midoriya's Quirk is still seemingly comforting him. But said assurance seems to help; a few of the figures even seem to laugh.
"Good, then," the other boy replies, blatant relief in even the tiniest roll-back of his shoulders,
"And you can just call me Midoriya. Or Izuku, honestly, enough people already do." (He laughs then, and it's a very pretty sound, even with the deep, rougher undercurrent.)
"Takahashi Haru. Nice to meet you, Midoriya," he greets, nodding shallowly. It earns him a very bright smile,
"You too, Takahashi-kun! You're in 1-C, right? Hitoshi used to be with you."
"He did," Haru acknowledges,
"The class was pleased that he was able to move over."
"We were happy to have him!" Midoriya beams, no hesitation at all.
Midoriya really is very warm, Haru abruptly realises, and it has nothing to do with his power.
"Anyway," Midoriya laughs, abruptly sheepish again,
"I wanted to ask if you needed the whole table? It's completely fine if you do! I don't want to interfere with your studying or anything. Or at least not more than I already have."
Haru, admittedly, falters. He doesn't much like things in his space, in general or in terms of desk space, but half of his table is free and, well, he knows that Midoriya takes his academics very seriously (he would have to, if he wants to stay ahead of some of the nigh-one geniuses in his class-) so maybe, just maybe, it won't hurt? It'll only be the once after all.
"As long as we don't end up with a crowd, sure."
"Not three or more people, got it," Midoriya grins, and Haru finds himself smiling at the wordplay before he even realises it. Well. That wasn't exactly expected.
But either way, Haru is able to focus back on his studying soon enough. Midoriya pulls out a few books and notebooks, a simple pencil and pen, and gets to work on... something. His Quirk gradually settles, draped over his shoulder in thick, lethargic shadows, and a low-volume, rapid-pace murmuring picks up that seems to match the very faint pattern to his just-glowing freckles and low level sparks.
Haru, despite his preference for silence or, failing that, the quiet humdrum of a patch of woodland or the like, finds the noise rather soothing.
In fact, he finds that Midoriya's presence is all-round fairly soothing. It is perhaps a tiny distracting when those ever-falling sparks catch in the corner of his eyes just wrong (or would it be right-) or when part-one-some of the shadows stretch up languorously, satisfied and nigh-on sleepy. None of it is overly difficult to concentrate through, however, nor is it anything like annoying. Haru doesn't mind Midoriya Izuku, he thinks. In fact, he might quite like the other boy, or at least his presence, relatively speaking.
The second time Midoriya approaches him, it's in one of the courtyards behind the dorms. Although judging by the fact that he came out of the 2-D dormitories, he must have been visiting someone else originally.
"Takahashi-kun, hey!"
"Hello, Midoriya," he returns, not quite smiling but very aware that his expression has softened a little, even more so when Midoriya doesn't immediately walk away after the polite greeting is over with. No, he just leans in a little, head tilted and eyes crinkling,
"How are you doing? Not studying too hard?"
"Just some casual reading," he returns, lifting the now-closed book in his lap slightly. It takes all of half a second for Midoriya's eyes to widen,
"You read Tomoe's works? Yaomomo and Mic-sensei are the only other people I know who have read her stuff, although I'm convinced Aizawa-sensei actually has too. Do you find her theories reasonable?"
Haru, for half a second, blinks up at the other boy, before the full question registers,
"Of course I do. There's a reason she's one of the premier voices regarding Quirks and their evolution."
"Even her extrapolation of Quirk Singularity?" There's something hungry, something passionate to Midoriya in this moment. It matches the heat in Haru's own chest for the topic. It's rare to meet someone both knowledgeable and passionate about Quirks.
"How could I not? Her extrapolation drags it out of extremist, edge-thinking and into something actually explicable. It matches what I see every day and obviously there will always be anomalies in genetics and evolution, it's both plausible and evidenced."
"You see it every day? Is that your Quirk?" That logical leap is near-instant, and honestly pretty impressive. Not to mention a little bit surprising.
"You-"
"Oh, damn! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have blurted that out," Midoriya hurries to go on, hands flailing a bit wildly (it's a tiny bit adorable, actually-),
"I know it can come across as really rude and forward. You absolutely don't have to answer!"
"I-" Haru starts, then decides that actually, no, Midoriya Izuku clearly doesn't have any malicious or likely even selfish intentions, both going by the interaction so far or by his general countenance, so the taller boy finds himself shrugging a tiny bit,
"No, it's fine. If you know about Tomoe then you're clearly interested in Quirks; I can see manifestations of someone's power, including their Quirk."
That precedes a single moment of utter stillness, of slightly wide eyes full of something like racing thoughts or amazement or fascination, all bright and boundless, then Midoriya speaks.
"That's beyond brilliant! The things you'd be able to do as a researcher, if you wanted, would be astounding. Or Quirk counselling! There are so many disciplines where a in-depth understanding of Quirks would be beneficial; even less direct roles like medicine or a recruiting role. Of course, your career isn't dependent on your Quirk, but it would have so many applications if you did go down a Quirk-based route. It's incredible!"
The onslaught of words are a shock. On many levels, at that. Because rarely are others so intelligent, so instinctively brilliant, able to immediately consider the benefits of Haru's Quirk, the applications; even more rarely, Midoriya did not jump to asking what his Quirk looks like. No, he thought of Haru first. Haru's own potential, no less.
It's a respect and kindness, both. One Haru has almost never been offered, particularly by someone that he has only met properly once before, at least in person.
"I plan to go into medicine. Paediatrics," Haru clarifies, a level of open honesty that he, in turn, doesn't often offer people. And it's well rewarded, with how Midoriya sits down beside him and, with sparks bright and freckles matching, eyes alight amongst it all, he begins gesturing and rambling, above and beyond his muttering from the other day. And it's all astute. Brilliant, even. Enough so that, between it and the sheer enthusiasm, Haru can't help but be pulled in by it all, sharing what he hopes to be able to do, the studies he would like to further and the sorts of situations he hopes to be able to help.
Midoriya is bright-eyed, fierce-minded, and absolutely supportive throughout it all.
Haru comes across Midoriya first, the next time they meet each other. He has scraped-bloody palms that he keeps shoving into his halo- into his hair, tangling and tugging, chest heaving just that bit too much.
And his Quirk is going nigh-on berserk.
(Those eyes full of ghosts cannot be seen, but the eight looming figures are clearly trying to make up for it in how they lunge along the walls and reach for the unseen sky, in how they press down upon Midoriya as though to protect him or smother him in equal measure. The corridor is thick with ashes and ozone, choking enough to be a blizzard, and the sharp pine is barely there beneath it all. The flames that sometimes flicker along his scars are in full, fierce blaze, and it leaves half of his skin a conflagration, the rest the glimmers of stars or the tanned edges of ever-lost serenity and-
And he cuts the figure of a true god, curled up in a school corridor or not.)
Haru doesn't think that Izuku is panicking necessarily, but he's clearly fighting with his Quirk, pulling it down, back into him, and Haru is watching. He can't help how he reaches up to caress an edge of the shadows. It's the only Quirk impression that Haru has ever been able to touch, soothing his trembling fingertips down the equally-trembling edge of a rearing shadow.
Oh. It actually calms down.
Somehow, that feels like a blessing, or a compliment, or something like it. Haru almost smiles without thinking, a reflex to the soft-shifting shadows, and to the way that Midoriya Izuku looks up at him with bright, sharp eyes and a shuddering smile.
"Are you okay?"
"I think, Midoriya, that I should be the one asking you that question." And despite Haru's frankly very sensible rebuttal, there is something beyond determination in the solid set of that freckled jaw, and the way his gaze seems to veritably burn.
"Alright. Yes, I'm quite alright. But are you okay, Midoriya?"
"Yeh. Yeh, I am. Just tripped, scraped myself up, shocked my Quirk into hyperactivity. Obviously not a proportionate response, but they- it does this sometimes." Haru is going to pretend that he didn't note that odd little slip-up, and instead focus on the shadow now outright wrapped around his hands that feels suspiciously akin to an actual person having grabbed him, not yet choosing to let go.
"Fair enough. Powerful Quirks are often the most unruly ones."
"Yeh, they are," Midoriya agrees, the words somehow pointed but blatantly not directed towards Haru.
Doubly so with how he jabs his elbow in the air slightly, an almost unnoticeable movement if not for how it has the shadow he just nudged recoiling in... in what feels like almost comical offence.
Midoriya Izuku and his Quirk, Haru decides, are blatantly and undeniably peculiar.
The way that it, despite having settled since earlier, still shifts and writhes now, the way the shadows rear up and curl in like recognisable figures, the sheer emotion in its gestures, their gestures Haru can't help but find them oh-so human. Izuku just might find the same, he thinks.
"Wanna come and study with me? Obviously you don't have to! But I was going to try and find a quiet corner again." The question feels abrupt, particularly as Izuku is busy staggering to his feet, still looking just a little bit dazed. His eyes aren't quite as glazed anymore. Haru considers that fact, and nods, just once,
"If you'll let me put some antiseptic cream on those grazes."
"They're only grazes! I've had far worse, you don't need to worry-"
"Too late," Haru shoots right back,
"And maybe they're not shattered limbs, but they are still injuries. They need tending to," he insists.
"Oh. I- Okay. Thank you then." The words are soft, oddly shy for someone who is so very boundless in so many senses. It's bittersweet.
"Of course," Haru returns, once more smiling at the other boy without much thinking about it.
He seems to do that a lot around Midoriya, actually. How odd.
Haru, the first time he hugs Izuku (they have been studying together, have debated Quirk theory over snacks, have just spent time together, ultimately, devolving into conversations about things far less theoretical, and ever-more silly or personal-), feels the whispering weight of shadows brush over his shoulders in a sort of greeting, he thinks. An acknowledgement, perhaps.
Oddly, it feels like a blessing. Like he is being blessed.
Izuku is warm, with a chill to his scars and a sunspotted heat to his freckles, and his hands are oh-so kind. It's an odd match to how Haru does not see but rather feel how, cast upon the wall beside them, the figures are twisting around his own distorted shape. That, too, is warm. Haru isn't sure he's ever felt this warm before, honestly, and the way that he can feel Izuku's scars, can mentally trace their shape, thanks purely to their chill, the press of frost even through his clothing. Somehow, it feels like something he knows. Like a pattern from his childhood, perhaps. Something from dreams or memories or his very soul.
It is wonderful. Not only that, but Izuku, after several long seconds, shudders into the hold too, sinking into Haru with an absolute bonelessness that seems... not unnatural, but certainly new to him. They are not one, no, but their shadows are, a mass of kind darkness, and that reflects how they both seem to breathe entire universes of warm air against each other's shoulders.
Haru doesn't think that either of them have been hugged like this before. Or, at least, if they have, then it's been far too long, because they're both far, far too uncomfortable with this except they're also melting into it. It's novel, and delightful, all the more so for it.
"Midoriya," he finally murmurs, nothing like a reprimand or pressure. The other boy startles back though, and Haru mourns that instantly.
A smile wasn't really what he intended, but Haru finds himself with one all the same. It's wobbly, and probably soft, and he isn't quite sure about it himself, but it's there all the same, and it seems to be enough for Izuku to relax a little again, his shoulders shifting down from where they had drawn up around his shoulders, sharp and trembling like the sparks that Haru always sees upon his skin, tiny fountains of the hot light shuddering forth. He doesn't quite look scared, but there's something akin to it in the tense planes of his face.
Without a thought (he's being nigh-on impulsive today, isn't he? how remarkable-), Haru reaches out, curling a hand loosely around Izuku's wrist, letting his fingertips press lightly against the too-fast pulse. The thrum reverberates through him in a way that should be impossible, frankly, too loud and resonant and echoing, something almost overwhelming, enough so that Haru stumbles with it.
Izuku catches him. Haru doesn't even need catching, because he had stumbled but he had come nowhere close to falling, yet Izuku reaches to slip a hand around his waist all the same, supportive without restraining, and he shifts the wrist that Haru is holding so that their palms are pressed together, braced in a way that pushes at both of their wrists slightly but does not hurt. Not with how Izuku is holding his waist too.
Haru's flush is hot, heady, and sudden.
He- he doesn't flush. Or at least, he rarely does, and certainly not from somebody's touch. But this is Midoriya. This is Izuku, who so thoughtlessly reached out to steady him, whose hands are that dichotomous warm-chill, suffusing that quiet sort of glee throughout Haru, enough so that, yes, he does blush.
"Are you okay?"
"Sorry, my Quirk can be a little overwhelming sometimes," Haru offers up, by way of explanation, and Izuku's grown is nothing but concerned,
"It's passive, right?" That's a quick assessment, and if he wasn't still a bit overwhelmed Haru would be impressed,
"It is."
"Does my Quirk- Do I overwhelm you?" There is fear there. Something deeper and richer and far more awful than what any of this warranted. Or so Haru would have thought, had he not seen the horror, resigned though it may be, breaching those green eyes, a rising flood of too-grey in amongst the vivid colour.
"No, not really. Not at any fault of yours or true issue for me at least," Haru returns, just a little bit wobbly-sounding. He doesn't like how dim that gaze still is. How genuinely worried Izuku looks, and how his hand trembles just a little bit against Haru's.
But there is more light already, the curl of dew-dropped ferns at sunset, and it's utterly stunning.
"Are you alright?" Haru presses, and somehow manages to not stumble over the words despite how breathless he still is.
"I should be asking you that, I think," Izuku returns, only a little bit sarcastic around the edges. His concern is still most prevalent. That fact alone has the already-warm ball in Haru's chest flaring into full heat, because he is worried about Izuku first, and he himself is mostly okay right now, but it's ever-so kind of him, if perhaps also a little bit self-sacrificing, to be concerned. The taller boy simply raises a single eyebrow, and makes no move to unlace their hands,
"Then perhaps we should both answer?"
"You first, then," Izuku snickers, with steel below the laughter.
"Very well. I'm fine, thank you. And you, Midoriya?" Haru's gaze is surely challenging, but it only earns him a softer smile,
"Call me Izuku, if you want. But, yeh, I'm okay."
"Good," Haru affirms, nodding slightly,
"And you can call me Haru in return, if you want."
Izuku continues to smile at him, and Haru returns the expression without a thought. (He doesn't know it, but Izuku sees that smile, and something within him absolutely melts. The expression is gorgeous in such a simple way, all oceanic eyes with joy the sunlight upon their surface, and the shadows of dark hair falling back off of a pale forehead as Haru tilts his head just so, and oh no, Izuku might have just realised what it is to completely and utterly adore someone on sight.)
It's a Saturday. They've known each other for months already, now quite comfortably into their second year, and Izuku had asked Haru if he'd like to go to the bookshop together, both because Tomoe has a new publication being released, and because why not, essentially. And with Izuku's rucksack full of new books, and Haru carrying a bag in hand as well, they find themselves bumping shoulders, walking along the grassy bank of one of the few canals in the city, revelling in the bright sky, the slight breeze, the late summer warmth. Just in the quiet contentment of time spent together with no pressures of anything or anyone else.
They settle on the embankment, at some point, still shoulder to shoulder, bags abandoned at their sides.
The world doesn't fade when they kiss for the first time, but it does quieten down. Haru feels every chilled edge of Izuku's scars but it's nothing in comparison to the warmth, the chapped lips and soft skin and flaring freckles. He can, as always, taste the ashes and pine and ozone of Izuku, but it's even stronger than usual and tinged with something sweeter, not sugar but rather something better. There are ribbons of aurora and soft, faint sparks against Haru's skin, but as lovely as they are, they're hardly even there in comparison to Izuku's hands upon his arm and neck, all calluses and warmth and gentle, ever-less hesitant pressure.
They draw back a tiny bit, just enough to share air, foreheads pressed together. Haru... Haru doesn't think he's been this close to someone before, doesn't think that he's ever been able to stare into someone's eyes from so close up, doesn't think he's ever even wanted to, and now he can see nothing but the edges of constellations and those bright, oh-so green eyes. (It's aurora and emeralds and ocean depths, things beyond what Haru has ever seen before, and they're utterly gorgeous, something more than enthralling-)
"You're amazing." Haru knows that he's flushing at the compliment, probably turning bright red and not because of the warm sunlight, but he also just shifts his fingertips in the curls at the back of Izuku's skull, almost grinning when it elicits a tiny shiver from the other boy,
"So are you."
"Ah." The genuine shock and humility and awe to that single vocalisation is nothing short of wonderful, enough so that Haru can't help but lean in that tiny bit more to kiss him again.
Finally, however, they simply shift into a gentle, leaning affection, cheeks atop shoulders and loose arms around waists. Into something comfortable, and calm, and still very much a bit flushed on both of their parts.
The chill of evening begins to creep up on them, the sky staining in colours almost as pretty as the tones of Izuku's flush and freckles, and whilst Izuku is warm enough to nigh-on be a furnace, they are also fully aware that night is slowly beginning to descend on them.
"I get it if it's too much, but want to come and stay in my dorms?" Haru hesitates for a breath, mostly just trying to pull himself back into coherence beyond the sweet-soft haze, leaning back to be able to look at Izuku again, but it's long enough that Izuku shifts a little, uncomfortable,
"You don't have to!" he hurries to add on, hands shifting against Haru as though to draw away, but the taller boy only leans in further,
"I was just trying to think straight again, Izuku. But, yes, I would like that, I think."
"If you're sure. I'm not, uhm, you know, expecting anything," the shorter boy assures, hands flailing in the now-familiar way, one that Haru doesn't hesitate to, after a few seconds of watching indulgently, snatching up Izuku's hands to stop him from smacking one of them, unable to to do anything but smile a little,
"Neither, frankly, so that's quite alright with me."
They head back to school, but don't split up like usual. No, they slip back towards Izuku's dorm building, hand in hand with the occasional snicker or aside comment, before realising that maybe they shouldn't just walk up through the common room.
"Are you comfortable with me picking you up? I could just jump us up to my balcony." Haru doesn't falter, not really, because he doesn't have to think too much about it really, quite happy to shrug a little,
"I know you won't drop me, so I think I'm alright with that." Izuku doesn't beam, but everything about his expression goes molten, all awe and gratitude and contentment. Like Haru trusting him is the most amazing thing in the world.
Well, if he was ever going to hesitate over such a thing before, Haru certainly isn't going to now.
So he finds himself shocked into a short, sharp laugh when Izuku abruptly scoops him up, snickering as he does, but his hold is firm and gentle. Secure. The way that he moves is steady, every single step sure-footed and unhesitating, and there's only a brief warning, halfway to a whisper where Izuku's head is ducked to speak near Haru's ear, before he's leaping up, a flare of those ever-present supernova sparks, wind whipping around them both but then they're landing easily, lightly, on the railing of Izuku's balcony. The entire thing is so easy.
Haru thinks that anybody being saved by Izuku in the future will be very, very lucky indeed. He knows, realistically, that people will die on Izuku's watch, that people will do the same on his own, but right now, in this moment, the thought seems like an impossibility. Izuku is so good, is a hero through and through, there's no doubt about it.
Haru just considers himself very fortunate to be able to curl up with Izuku, only slightly awkward as they settle in, before after a while they both begin to relax again, gradually sinking into each other, because he thinks that whilst everybody will know Izuku the hero, only a privileged few will get to know Izuku the sweet, kind, self-deprecating but oh-so brilliant person, and Haru knows which he will personally love most.
(It is perhaps far too early to even have the thought of love, but Haru has never been someone who dedicates himself in half measures, and apparently when he finds the person he likes, that fact carries right through. Haru doesn't begrudge himself the fact.)
They do, of course, attend each other's graduation ceremonies. It isn't uncommon to attend the graduations of other Courses or classes, of course, but Haru is there for Izuku specifically. A big room full of literally hundreds of people is far from his comfort zone, doubly so when he already has to attend one for himself, because that's an awful lot of Quirks and powers to be stuffed into one space, a riot of movement and colours and forms that cannot be avoided with how his own Quirk works. It's a lot to deal with, even if no other person has such tangible strength as Izuku does, not even the various hero parents and siblings and teachers.
And Izuku had insisted that Haru didn't need to attend his ceremony, knowing full well how uncomfortable his partner had been at his own graduation, no matter that he had still smiled faintly at both Izuku and his own parents from up on the stage. But Haru, for all that he genuinely would not consider himself anything like as stubborn as Izuku is, does also have his moments of determination.
Izuku is a hero already, to Haru's eyes.
There is no need for a piece of paper or a robe modelled after his hero uniform to prove it. Not when he is the centre of their school, the leader of the Hell Class, the one who took down a villain that threatened the entirety of Japan and quite likely beyond. So, yes, Haru has no doubt that Izuku is already a hero in honestly every single sense, but he still wants to be here to see it recognised, for Izuku to have his tangible success after so many near-death experiences and exams and scars of every single sort.
It's worth it, to see the absolutely beaming smile in amongst the gilded freckles and shadows and sparks. To have Izuku's eyes seeking him out in amongst the crowd of friends and acquaintances, that green so very beautiful in amongst the chaos of the room, is a privilege, and it's all Haru can see. Izuku is all he can see.
He listens to every word of Izuku's speech (he was the number one student of his class, of the entire Hero Course-) with rapt attention, smiling at the times that Izuku stumbles, just a little, over his words, although his confidence in public speaking has come in absolute leaps and bounds. Haru has heard every single one of these words before, has helped Izuku practice them until they were smooth and confident, a stumble not enough to throw him off entirely, and it was beyond worth the effort that they put in. Izuku is entrancing. The hall is silent, all four or five hundred people of them. They listen to Izuku, to the almost-man who led them all through war, who bears the scars upon his skin and in his eyes but who smiles genuinely all the same.
Haru doesn't normally consider himself a possessive person. But he couldn't be prouder to be able to say, even just to his closest people, that said hero is his.
They don't move in together straight out of school. They're both only eighteen, after all, and they've been together for two years already but neither of them want to rush things all the same. Doubly so when Haru is going into further study that is going to take him to Tokyo, close enough that they will be able to visit over weekends or for Haru to come back over to Musutafu during the holidays. Between that, and what Izuku's hours are going to be like as the Hell Agency is getting established and he starts to try and build up his ranking, they just don't have the realistic chance or reason to live together yet.
And it's worth the wait, because by the time Izuku is the Number Four Hero, after having rapidly climbed the ranks (he has climbed them even more quickly than any other hero in Japan's history, even Hawks, because the entire class and Izuku, most of all, effectively debuted before they even graduated, so none of them came up low into the ranks even in their first year-), and Haru is out of university and focused upon his entrant placement at a pretty damn prestigious hospital back in Musutafu. It falls in place well enough to become the year they move in together.
It works. Oh, it isn't easy, and it never stops having more complex or difficult sides to it, but they make it work. Their schedules have them both busy at all times of the day and night, days at a time where they hardly see each other, and when they do, it's an exhausted haze.
But they still get to collapse beside each other on the sofa or in bed at the end of a shift, pressed side to side or shoulder to shoulder, all draping arms and interlinked fingers and crossed ankles. They will each open the fridge to find an extra meal portion a few times a week. Haru will leave heatpacks out for Izuku's hands, and Izuku will make sure that his scrubs get washed and dried often enough that he doesn't have to worry too much about running out of them.
And they leave lots of notes, that first year or two of living together. Little hearts, most of them slightly shakily drawn, and notes of gratitude or to be safe or to not forget something. Notes that get collected, tucked into notebooks and photo albums, kept in wallets and under trinkets or in little boxes of sentimental things. Haru's colleagues are used to him paying that extra bit of attention to any hero-related news broadcast, and to him stashing away little notes from his partner with a slight flush every single time. They're used to him, if he falls asleep in the break room, murmuring of his 'love'. Clearly, he's very soft on his other half, and they all think it's lovely.
Very similarly, Izuku's class, or rather his agency, now, get to hear little tales of how Haru makes the best fried rice, or they smirk, teasing him lightly, whenever Izuku tucks away yet another little note.
Their relationship is a not truly a secret, but it is a carefully-kept privacy, particularly when it comes to the details. Izuku and Haru spend literal hours upon hours talking through what is safe to say, what level of information will keep where they live, Haru's identity, their more personal details, all well out of the public eye, but will also satisfy the media and intense hero fans enough that the majority, at least, won't try to dig in further themselves.
So the world chatters about how in-love Izuku looks whenever he mentions his partner, they speculate upon their gender and name and profession, many of them thinking it must be another hero, surely. It's mostly hilarious to Haru, honestly. Very occasionally, it's a bit upsetting, don't get him wrong, because people make so many assumptions, and sometimes it's cruel, and very occasionally there are random bigots who think that their beloved hero simply must be with a woman, someone who must have a similarly flashy, powerful Quirk, must be the picture-perfect hero.
The only consolation, Haru finds, is that it actually tends to upset Izuku more. Of course, in general, he never wants Izuku distressed, loathes to see his partner with a scowl, or teary eyes, or bone-bleached knuckles. He will turn the telly off, shoulders tight, or will flick whatever media app closed, blatantly frustrated. It's always enough to have Haru draping himself against Izuku's broad back, or poking him in the leg or cheek, and it's easier when they lean on each other for it. (It's also made easier when, one day, after a few weeks of particularly upsetting speculation and another hero's family having a major privacy incident, Izuku works with the Hell Agency to get a relatively small press conference set up, and has a talk with the media, with the public. He is far sterner than usual, still with the odd smile, but that only adds to the impression of just how serious he is. Of how he warns of the dangers of looking too deeply into a hero's life, and how utterly hurtful it is to see so many assumptions made about relationships, about known family members, about personal choices or preferences.
It isn't perfect, by any means. It isn't a true solution. But it helps. Izuku is a very human face of Heroics, between how quick he is to cry, how he has told truths of the war and of growing up Quirkless, and how he has been documented in the media since he was fifteen, and that humanity often lends a little extra weight to things like this.
Izuku is Japan's darling, after all. It's just that Japan doesn't need to know who he considers his own darling in return.)
But as they get older, as the media chills out a little, as they both settle fully into their respective careers, things like that become easier. They keep up their little notes, a habit that has been going long enough now for it to be almost thoughtless except it's too heartfelt for that, and their shifts begin to fall into something more regular. Izuku and Haru are able to spend more time together, sneaking out little dates to bookshops and cat cafes, Izuku's hair loose, those fake glasses that Haru kind of loves on his face. Next to Haru, who has grown even taller but stayed lithe, he doesn't look quite as tall as he does normally, smiling up at his partner, but perhaps a little broader, and it's enough that they can laugh and hold hands and look over books in safety, together.
Life is far from perfect, there is too much bloodshed for that, but there is still a lot of joy to be found.
The first time that a civilian dies whilst Izuku is trying to save them, it's Haru he rings. The hero wakes up in hospital, phone on his bedside table, and he knows, he remembers, and he's already breaking as he scrabbles to get his phone, to pull it off charge, having to try a few times to get his passcode in and finally able to pull up his most recent contact-
"H- Haru-" The call is accepted almost instantly, a worried voice speaking just as quickly, fierce and kind and insistent,
["I'm already on my way, Izuku. I'm literally on the train back to Musutafu now, okay, and right now I need you to breathe for me, please."]
"But I-" Izuku is still gasping, still trembling fiercely enough that he isn't sure how he's keeping a hold of his phone through it.
["Love, you breathing is most important right now. Can you follow my count for me, please?"]
Izuku doesn't truly calm down, not really, but he manages to steady his breathing enough, thanks to Haru's calm counting, at least, that he isn't completely spiralling into incoherence.
No, he's eventually together enough that he's able to stumble out some very jagged words, shards of glass upon his tongue,
"There was a little kid, Haru, and she had such long ginger hair, she looked like Kendou, a bit, and she was so scared but my knee gave out and I was too slow and I couldn't even hold her and-"
["Love, please keep breathing for me,"] Haru interjects, keeping his voice level rather than letting his full urgency seep through,
["You did what you could. I saw some of that fight, and you were very injured, Izuku, love. Very, very injured. She saw you try, and that's more than almost anyone else would have done, alright? You still helped her. I'm proud of you, love."] It's all true, and his heart beyond aches for his partner, for the agony he is going through, for the injuries but even more for the blood he must surely feel upon his hands will be a lingering thing.
"Oh. Uhm, thank you." His sweet, sweet, too-selfless partner, how is someone so clever also so silly?
["Don't thank me, love. It's true. You really tried, and she saw that."] Izuku's next breath stutters once more, but doesn't set back into hyperventilation or the like,
"I- I guess." Haru will take it.
["I know it's hard to let the logic overtake your emotions on it, Izuku, and it's okay if you have to take time with it, but I promise you it's true. You still helped her."]
They settle into silence from there, not completely calm but Izuku's chest no longer heaving, enough so that they can simply listen to each other breathing, secure in the comfort of the other's presence, distant or otherwise.
Eventually though, what feels like an age later but is likely only a few minutes, Haru huffs slightly,
["Right, Izuku, love, I've got about ten minutes until the train gets to the station. Do you think you'll be alright until I'm back with you? You must need to talk to the doctors first."]
"I- I, yeh. One poked their head around the door a minute ago," Izuku confesses, a wee bit sheepish. And quite rightly too, in Haru's mind, although he certainly doesn't begrudge Izuku the comfort that he very clearly needed.
["Then you better press that call button, love. But if you need me, ring me, please; I should be there within half an hour."]
"Yeh. Just, thank you, Haru. You didn't even have to head back down here," Izuku breathes, just a little bit messy. It melts Haru's heart.
["I'm still your partner, Izuku. Of course I was going to come back for you when I thought you might need me."]
"I mean I always want you with me." And there's an edge of the strong, bright, bubbly person that Haru loves so much, because Izuku will always have moments of spiralling or anxiety or trauma, but he always bounces back from it sooner or later, step by step, and doubly so with help, and it's wonderful to see. Or hear, rather.
He just wants Izuku to be okay, or to be there for him in the moments that he cannot be.
["And you're a sap for it. But I love you, and listen to the doctors, please?"]
"I'm not the only sap here," Izuku returns, then takes one more deep breath,
"But, yes, I will. Love you too."
They hang up then, and Izuku does indeed press his call button, getting a doctor and two nurses coming in within ten seconds, checking over his vitals and checking his recollection and his bandaged wounds, but all he can think about is that little girl's face, and the fact that Haru is on his way.
Life is beyond awful, sometimes, particularly in their chosen career paths, but hopefully, with each other to fall back on, they'll be able to get through it all.
For the day of Haru's graduation from university, Izuku takes an entire week off of work. It's one of the longest chunks of time he's taken off of Heroics in a long time, but he travels up the two hours to Tokyo with Haru's parents all the same, and greets him with a truly massive grin, an absolute spinning mess of a bear hug, Haru's feet flying out into the air as they spin, and a kiss to his forehead.
Izuku, admittedly, is wearing fake glasses and has his now fairly long hair down and loose rather than in the braided bun it would normally be in for a patrol, all of it a match to his work-out leggings and very loose top, the ensemble helping to make him that bit less recognisable, but he's still absolutely gorgeous either way. Haru laughs into the hug, and flushes at the forehead kiss, and attempts to scowl at his parents for their clearly teasing smiles. (It's more than lovely that, after their very faint initial hesitation but unwavering support when they first found out who Haru was dating, because being the partner of any public figure, let alone a rapidly-rising Hero, is a dangerous game, seeing the way that Izuku treats him has erased any worries or doubts they may have had. Izuku goes to great efforts to keep Haru safe and as secret as he wants to be. His parents appreciate that fact.)
"Did you all have a good trip up?"
"We did indeed. Izuku-kun kept insisting on carrying all of our things for us-" Haru's partner flushes, sheepish, and it's utterly adorable.
"-and we all enjoyed sharing some stories."
"Some stories," Haru deadpans, immediately beyond suspicious. Izuku grins, a bit sharp around the edges, eyes flashing with a certain sort of joy,
"I couldn't not tell your parents about that time Ochaco walked into my flat and tried to arrest you."
"Rude." Izuku doesn't even try to retort, simply pouting and leaning down, eyes wide, and how can Haru not forgive that face instantly? Honestly.
"If you don't behave, I won't show you the good katsudon place."
"But Haru," Izuku whines, albeit still grinning, still mischievous. Haru can only roll his eyes, snorting quietly when some of Izuku's shadows are blatantly amused or somewhat exasperated at the interaction.
"Well, perhaps I won't go that far."
"You couldn't really deny me katsudon, could you?"
"Try me."
Haru's Dad abruptly laughs, loud and boisterous and oh-so genuinely happy,
"You're good for our Haru, Izuku-kun."
"Ah," Izuku mutters, flushing fiercely, head ducked, fingers twisting, blatantly a little bit more than embarrassed.
"Uhm, I try to be. I want to be."
"I think you do a good job, Izuku-kun. He always seems very happy with you," his Dad assures, no traces of laughter now. It only seems to make Izuku's pleased embarrassment worse.
"Oh. Well, uhm, I'm glad. I want him to be happy."
"Then you're managing that. Many people wouldn't have taken the time from a job as hectic as yours to be here for a graduation, you know?" Haru's Mum nods then, stepping forwards just a little to lay a hand on Izuku's arm, all of it far more demonstrative than she would usually be, and Haru abruptly realises just how much his parents like his partner.
"Kai is right, Izuku-kun."
Izuku is very much beyond flustered now, if he hadn't been already, and Haru, whilst a little bit flushed himself, is also very happy to see that fact. It's honestly nice to see his parents so openly approving of Izuku, enough so as to not let him doubt the way that he is already being considered part of their family.
"I- Thank you. Just, yeh, thank you." Izuku is bright red, all the way down below his collar, shuffling his feet, fingers still twisting, but he's smiling too, eyes glistening a little too much.
Haru is already shuffling even closer, digging his fingers in between Izuku's scarred digits until they're holding hands and he won't be straining his already bad-enough fingers, squeezing gently.
"Silly," he offers up, not quite chiding, and brings up his other hand to brush over Izuku's freckled cheek, in amongst the warmth and sparks and the ready-to-fall tears. His partner tilts into the touch, blinking back said tears.
"Can't help it," Izuku sniffs, still flushed. It's nothing short of adorable.
Haru is very, very glad that his partner and his parents get along, and very much glad that they're all here to watch him graduate from the University course that will allow him to help people. He won't be a hero, but he will help people regardless, in the way that he wants to, where he can use his Quirk and skills and knowledge to the best of his abilities. It's well, well worth it.
Eventually, they decide to get married.
It isn't a surprise to Izuku, Haru, or any of their close friends or family, as they've both been talking about it for a while at that point, had looked at simple rings together online, so it was a fair time in coming, but it still feels like a big decision when they go to a jewellery shop together, one recommended by some of Izuku's class and other hero friends who promise that they're a suitably discrete place, and get two very simple bands, one gold and one silver, each with a thread of the opposite running through them. They're nothing fancy, nothing complicated, but that's all the better not to attract attention with, and they're happy just to carry a little piece of each other with them.
The wedding itself is, technically, a very small affair, two weeks later. Just Izuku, Haru, their parents, and their closest friends are there to witness the legal ceremony that has to be gone through before they can exchange their rings, a cup of sake in vague acknowledgement of national tradition, a kiss, and then be gone.
Afterwards, however, comes the celebration. Yaomomo has offered up her rather large penthouse flat for a private venue, as it were, and Haru's friends, Auntie and parents have all been warned of the volume of pro heroes, and just how much that information can't get out. But his family, like he himself, are generally a rather quiet sort or at least keep to themselves, and both Emi and Tsuna have done shifts on the Hero Ward before. Akihiro hasn't had that experience, but they, equally, are more than sensible, so Haru isn't too worried. They've all met Izuku before today and kept their heads, after all.
It's worth it, to have their loved ones around them for the night, to share food and laughter and stories. Haru and Izuku end up being the butt of several very well-meant jokes, never anything too personal, but certainly little stories of silly stunts, or of how absolutely besotted they are with each other. They don't talk about the less happy aspects of their jobs or lives, not tonight. No, this is a time for celebration, for quiet joy and fierce laughter. For Haru to quietly still be amazed that he gets to have Izuku's strong arm around his waist, that he gets to hook his chin atop wild curls, smiling as he breathes in the ever-familiar scent of pomegranate. He gets to be warmed through by soft skin and calluses and gentle aurora that slip against him, not allowed to overheat thanks to the slight chill of Izuku's scars, and it's all just completely and utterly perfect.
Haru has a gold and silver band upon his ring finger, his husband pressed into his side, and their loved ones all around them. He is happy, and he knows that Izuku is too. They have hope, trust, and absolute love between them, and nothing could be better.