Work Text:
Eraserhead was trailing after him.
He wasn’t even subtle about it, walking just barely a couple steps behind Izuku. Even after Izuku had insisted he could get home on his own.
Guess that’s what you get when a hero finds you on a roof, preparing to jump.
Normally, he wouldn’t have minded that too much; not when it was Eraserhead. But there was one small problem: Izuku lied to the hero.
Not about going home, or when he promised to keep living, of course he wouldn’t lie about that… But his mother had not lived with him for many, many months now.
Just one of the many, many reasons why that first Friday of his last year of middle school was the worst day of his life.
He told Eraserhead he had someone to keep him company overnight, just in case. Someone to help him with the meals, someone to reassure him, someone to talk to.
And now Eraserhead was following him to make sure that was true. Or to symbolically put the responsibility over keeping Izuku alive on their shoulders.
“I can get home on my own, you know,” he said. “I’ve done this plenty of times before.”
“The more you try to discourage me, the more inclined I am to walk you,” Eraserhead murmured, his face smushed into his scarf.
Izuku just sighed, slowing down a little bit more.
“Are they abusive?” Eraserhead asked softly. “You don’t have to go back if they are-”
“Nobody at home is abusive,” Izuku said, completely truthfully. It was true, even if just on a technicality. “I just… Don’t really want anyone to know what… What almost happened tonight.”
“Hm,” The hero merely grunted, keeping up his pace.
Izuku briefly contemplated his options. One, knock on a random neighbour’s doors and hope they keep up with the charade for long enough to fool Eraserhead. At 3am in the morning, when they hadn’t seen him since his mother’s funeral, if they were one of those who deigned to show up.
Two, pretend one of the neighbourhood strays is really his mother, just affected by a quirk for the time being. In front of the one hero who could cancel quirks.
Three… Take him to the actual apartment and come clean about everything.
He’s already admitted so much to the hero… What could that one extra bit of information hurt?
Decision made, he sped up, picking the shortcuts instead of detours.
Eraserhead undoubtedly noted the difference.
The hero did not hesitate to follow him inside their complex building and up the stairs. Normally, Izuku climbed in through the window when he was in his vigilante outfit, but hopefully the lack of cape and plain dark clothes would look civilian enough to fool anyone they might stumble onto.
He did not reach for his keys; he never took those along when he went out at night. Again, he usually got back in through the window.
But he did have his lockpicking tools with him, and since he practiced on pretty much every door he’s had nearby… It took him mere seconds to have his front doors unlocked.
It did not inspire much confidence but he chose to assume it was purely because of all the practice he had.
Izuku did not have to look to know Eraserhead was drilling holes into his back.
The doors opened into a dark apartment. It wasn’t dirty; Izuku knew how to clean, thank you very much. And with his plans to attend online school, he’s had a lot of time to keep the good habits up.
But it was clearly not very lived-in. The coffee table was completely empty, the sofa not used in months. The TV was missing, sold a long time ago. So was most of Izuku’s hero merchandise, but that lack wasn’t really visible unless you knew what his room looked like before.
The kitchen, bathroom and his bedroom were pretty much the only rooms he used, anymore.
His mother’s bedroom sat untouched.
“Tea? Coffee?” Izuku asked, leaving his cape hung over the back of his chair in the kitchen, walking over to the sink. “I have juice pouches too, if that’s more to your liking.”
He could feel the gaze piercing through his back as he rummaged through his cupboards, filled with ramen and other cheap, filling non-perishables. The fridge was long gone; he hasn’t used it in ages.
The kettle started rumbling, heating up the water as Izuku prepared two cups. Eraserhead didn’t answer him, so he’d settle for coffee.
"You can't stay here,” the hero told him when he put the cups on the kitchen table. “You can't."
“It’s the only place I have,” Izuku shrugged, sitting down.
Eraserhead still didn’t move from his spot on the threshold.
“You said-”
“I lied,” Izuku took a sip of his scalding coffee. Nothing better to keep him awake than a burnt tongue. “I live alone, and I’ve yet to encounter any troubles.”
Eraserhead raised an eyebrow at that.
“...This evening excluded,” Izuku amended.
Finally, the hero decided to sit down.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his coffee forgotten. Shame, this one was actually quite nice if you burned your tongue first. “Not anymore.”
Izuku shrugged, again. “If you mean the fostering system, thanks, but no thanks. I’m quirkless; even if I get into a house, I know exactly how it’d go. ”
Eraserhead remained silent, staring at his steaming cup.
The silence stretched out like taffy. Good thing it was something Izuku was used to by now. Months spent in company of just himself and the steadily-disappearing posters filling his walls made him comfortable with utter, awkward silence.
“...I have an emergency fostering license,” Eraserhead said eventually. “If… If you would be alright staying with me-”
“You don’t have to force yourself,” Izuku stood up, taking his now-empty cup over to the sink. “It’s fine. If you think you can convince the school to give me a chance, if you think I could get a scholarship, I’m willing to try. But that's already more than enough.”
“Kid,” Eraserhead sighed. “Midoriya. Izuku.”
“Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku tilted his head, looking back at him. “Is there a point in there somewhere, or are you just testing out which one’s best? You’ve forgotten Problem Child.”
“This isn’t a good way to live.”
“And yet one of your students is in almost the exact same situation.” Then, at Eraserhead’s blank look, Izuku added. “Uraraka. I saved her and she saved me, back at the entrance exam. We’ve exchanged numbers and kept in contact ever since.”
“What do you mean, she’s in the same situation?” Eraserhead stood up from the table, circling around it to reach Izuku. “I’ve spoken to her parents-”
“Who live in the Mie prefecture. She’s renting an apartment all by herself, in one of the shadier parts of the city, too. Scholarship, skipping meals, thrifting clothes… If you want to help someone, help her.”
“This…” the hero said softly, pressing his palm to Izuku’s fidgeting hands. “This is what makes you a hero: your selflessness, your desire to help others before yourself… But you forget one vital part.”
Izuku looked up, curious against himself.
“You are also someone who deserves to be helped.”