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It's not the first time Izuku has dreamed of Shoto Todoroki. He doubts it will be the last.
The dreams are strange, always vivid and remembered with stark clarity when he wakes up. He doesn't remember when, exactly, they started. Maybe it was back when he first watched the Sports Festival, sat next to his mother on his couch and gazing on with awe as ice exploded in a flurry across the screen.
As big a hero nerd as he is, maybe it's not so surprising that his dreams would drift towards them so vastly. When he was younger he used to have dreams of All Might. Mostly strange, morphing replays of the videos he saw online.
Nothing... nothing like this, though. Like these.
Yesterday it was a vast expanse of endless sky atop the towering peak of a building in the middle of nowhere. Today it is a beach, with clear sands and blue water so clean it looks like crystal. It is calm as it laps up onto the shore, the waves rolling over one another rhythmically.
It is a peaceful scene. A never ending sight, like you could walk forever and never get tired, never escape the sea. The sun feels real against Izuku's skin as he blinks away the shine of it, but a cool coastal breeze offsets any bite be may've felt from its rays.
Shoto is there waiting for him. He almost always is, sitting there and gazing out at whatever picturesque setting they've been placed in for the night. He, as always, appears in full detail. So uncannily like the many photographs of him online that sometimes Izuku has to remind himself that none of this is real.
Izuku almost hadn't watched the Sports Festival back then. He'd been bitter-- bitter that he hadn't made it, bitter that Kacchan had. It was his mother who'd coaxed him out of his room, away from the online schoolwork he'd viciously thrown himself into, and gotten him to sit down and observe.
He'd never regretted it.
Shoto's career as the pro hero Duality was something Izuku had followed avidly ever since that day. Kacchan had been amazing and awing, powerful in a way Izuku had always wished he was but knew he never would be. He hadn't been what caught Izuku's eye that day, though.
Shoto had looked so terribly sad, Izuku had thought. Beautifully distant and with quirk control enough to make the nerd in him drool. He'd picked up a pencil for the first time since receiving his UA rejection letter and had taken off writing so fast his pencil had been practically smoking.
It had launched him back into the analysis he'd dropped in a fit of... he still wasn't sure. Maybe he'd just been feeling spiteful and angry at the world. In a lot of ways, Shoto had saved him. Had brought Izuku back into himself and out of the wallowing pit he'd fallen into.
Sometime shortly after, he'd had the first dream. And it was really no surprise.
His room, once papered with All Might posters and with shelves cluttered full of his action figures, had slowly been replaced. He didn't hate All Might for what he said, or for the way he'd left. Izuku understood now better than ever that no, he wasn't fit to be a hero. Not the kind All Might was.
He could help other ways, though. It's what his double major was for. He was tearing through school, and he'd earned the respect of his professors and his classmates. It wasn't his first dream, but it felt like enough.
Shoto shifts from his place on the sand, seemingly noticing Izuku from the corner of his eye. He turns his head with a smile, eyes losing their hard contemplativeness and softening into something kinder. A type of look that made Izuku's cheeks go a little warm.
When these dreams had first started, Shoto had been standoffish, almost mean in his regard to Izuku. Izuku's got no idea why it changed. Likely his brain showing him what he wanted to see and hear. As his perception of Shoto shifted and changed, as his opinion of him did, perhaps his dreams had just followed suit.
The dreams are a little embarrassing. Izuku's definitely taking them to the grave. They're... creepy, honestly. Izuku's antisocial and doesn't go out often, having essentially become a hermit save for his attendance of classes, and every night he dreams of the Number Five pro hero every news tabloid and then some is trying to get a piece of?
Ick.
He'll never have this in real life, but Izuku doesn't see the harm in... in this. He looks forward to going to sleep. It's an escape from reality, at least. Duality would never give Izuku Midoriya a second glance in the waking world, but with this--
Well. He can't stop the dreams anyway, and he's not going to go creep on Shoto or turn into some crazed fan who claims they're soulmates. Though if he did, it's not like he'd be the first.
"Izuku." Shoto's voice is smooth and far kinder than the ones he adopts during interviews. The smile curves at his face is a private thing that Izuku can't help but return. "I was wondering where you were. Caught up in another assignment?"
Izuku shoves his frequent doubts back. He's had them for years now and they've done nothing. There's no use agonizing.
"Got called to collaborate on a case, actually. I'm moving up in the world!" Izuku chirped out, plopping down next to him in a well practiced move. It was uncanny, the way his fire side radiated comforting heat out the way it did even in an illusion like this. "But I can tell you about that later. Tell me about your fight! I saw it all over the news-- did you seriously freeze an entire building to keep it from collapsing? Was anyone hurt? They wouldn't say!"
Shoto grins at him, leaning closer to bump their shoulders. And Izuku lets himself have this.
One thing they don't talk about is the fact that, while Izuku very justifiably thinks that Shoto isn't real, Shoto also seems to think the same thing about him.
Izuku used to stress over it, but now it hardly crosses his mind. It's been years-- years of these dreams, years of seeing him here in these different places. In towering canyons, and in fields of flowers. In the savannah plains, and in stretches of gargantuan mountains. In the clouds, and in the stars beyond them.
It used to be a sore spot. Something that would agitate them both. Because this Shoto here was not the one of the waking world, no, but he was real in the sense that he acted like a person. He seemed to feel things, had unique thoughts and memories.
Izuku had researched the phenomenon to try and find other accounts of it, but he couldn't find a peep. He'd posted on anonymous boards, inquiring about dream constructs and how much autonomy they had outside the function and knowledge of a person's mind. He had dug through every source he could find to no avail.
Izuku is someone who thrives off knowledge. He loves to know things, greedily hoarding information at every twist and at every turn. These dreams had once been his life's greatest mystery-- still were in many ways-- and he'd thrown himself into them.
It was only after one night, sat together in a row boat on a vast and still lake, the stars above shining unbelievably, that Izuku made the decision to finally stop looking.
Shoto had grabbed his hands. He'd been quiet in the hours they'd been there, humming along to one of Izuku's common rambling spiels. When Izuku had met his mismatched eyes, there had been a bone deep sadness there.
It was the kind that stole Izuku's breath from his lungs. That made his heart lurch and something in him twist. Shoto had smiled at him, weak and trembling and so utterly defeated. Tears had spilled over from his eyes, and he'd squeezed Izuku's hands tighter.
He'd looked at him, the both of them sixteen years old and still so blind to the world, and he had told in him a tumultuous voice that he wished Izuku was real. And that had broken Izuku's heart.
Shoto, who had told him the tragic story of his past. Shoto, who Izuku had admitted to that he was quirkless. The two of them, who'd swapped tales that neither could fully believe. Because Izuku thought he was fake, and Shoto thought he was too, and that didn't just hurt Izuku. It hurt Shoto too.
The pain on Shoto's face was real. Maybe a construct of Izuku's mind, maybe proof that he was crazy, but so tangible it had struck Izuku right in the chest and broke his heart in two. And maybe this wasn't the real Shoto, but he was Izuku's Shoto all the same.
Izuku didn't want to hurt him. Not here, not out there, not anywhere.
"I can't have you. You're my only true friend, and I--" Shoto had taken a deep breath, then, only to choke on it. "I-I'll never... I'll never have you."
"You'll have me here." Izuku had murmured back fiercely, squeezing his hands. In that moment, he would've done anything just to make that look go away. "We'll have each other. Just us. You're the best friend I've ever had, and that's-- I'm okay with that much. Because at least I get this much."
It was the first and last time Shoto had ever cried in his dreams. Izuku had dragged him into a hug and held him tight, clenching his eyes shut.
He never mentioned, never alluded, that Shoto may not be real again. And Shoto didn't either. Ignoring the tragedy of their situation didn't help, but acknowledging it wouldn't either. So Izuku did something he so rarely did.
He took this, let the rest go, and he pretended. He would always think it, but it's not something he'd say.
(It's not something Shoto would say either, but Izuku had seen how he looked at him when he thought Izuku wasn't looking. But that was a breakdown for another day, now wasn't it?)
Their friendship did not come fast, nor did it come easy.
It used to be that Shoto would ignore him, in the beginning. He was distrustful, acting confused as to who Izuku was and why he was even there. Izuku didn't know why he appeared to him that way. Maybe a mixture of low self-esteem and something else had been the cause, and Izuku's subconscious had projected as such.
It was hard to remember that version of Shoto now. Through nervous blabbering and an eventual fight about the fire side of Shoto's quirk, Shoto had finally opened up to him. Like a flower blooming, like a switch flipping, suddenly he was just... there.
He liked to be in contact. It was something dream-Shoto seemed to crave, and it was something Izuku craved back. His mother was really the only one Izuku had any regular contact with. He had no real friends to speak of, let alone anyone who would want to hug, or sit so close their thighs touch.
Izuku feels embarrassed anytime it happens. He berates himself. He can't control his dreams and he's long since learned that, but he still feels a sense of shame despite his resolve not to bring it up anymore. It feels a bit like a violation anytime he lets Shoto wrap an arm around his shoulders and draw him into his side.
Today they're huddled together in the dip of a cloud, floating so high there's no telling if there's a bottom to even reach. Shoto's warmth leeches into him, and Izuku lets himself curl into it just to see him smile.
Shoto's got that look on his face again. That tender glint in his eyes that makes the rest of the world seem quiet. A cool hand brushes through Izuku's hair, and he's so used to it now that he doesn't so much as flinch.
"Today was strange." Izuku hums. "Do you remember Kacchan? That childhood friend I told you about?"
The hand in his hair goes from lax to lightly gripping. Nowhere near painful, but firm enough to tell Izuku that Shoto remembers exactly who he's talking about.
Izuku has never given the specifics. Dream or not, he's never wanted Shoto to know exactly who Kacchan is, in the same way Shoto never shared the details of what his father said and did to him growing up.
Summations of events are enough. Open, but not so much so that it hurts. Izuku has never pushed, and Shoto hasn't either. Even when his expression grows stormy and contemplative, and Izuku can tell there's a question at the tip of his tongue, he holds it. And Izuku tries to show the same courtesy.
"How could I forget?" Shoto asks, voice quiet and darkly musing. He resumes running his hands through Izuku's curls. "What about him? He's not bothering you again, is he?"
Izuku smiles at the concern, feeling distant.
"No, no. Not at all. He... He came and apologized, actually. He wants to be friends again." Izuku can hardly believe it himself. "He invited me to have lunch with him this weekend. I think I might go."
Shoto hums at him, and he sounds just as faraway as Izuku feels. Glancing up at him, Izuku meets his eyes. It used to make him flustered, the way Shoto always seemed to be watching. Gazing at Izuku's face and his expressions as though trying desperately to memorize them all.
There's longing on his face that mingles with something a little bitter. Something Izuku is familiar with, that he feels twinges of when he sees fans meeting Duality on social media, or broadcasted across the news. A wish that will never come true.
"Lucky him." Shoto murmurs, so quiet Izuku almost doesn't hear. Shoto's hand drifts down, brushing against his cheekbone and across his jaw. Tracing freckles, chasing the forming blush. "Just be careful. Don't let him treat you the way he used to."
"I would never." Izuku says with an almost grim determination, and he's surprised to find he genuinely means it.
"Be honest with me." Izuku demands, draped half over Shoto as they drift down a river on what feels like a giant pillow. One that luckily isn't soaking up any of the water, pleasantly warm and dry. "Do you put the milk in the cereal before or after?"
"Before." Shoto says with absolutely no hesitation. Izuku jerks up, eyes wide and mouth already opening. And then he sees the look on Shoto's face and immediately rolls his eyes, plopping back down on top of him limply.
"Ugh. Alright, fine. Stupid question." Izuku groans. Shoto snorts at his theatrics, sending a vibration through his chest that echoes in Izuku's ear. "Okay, this then. Opinion on the new villain on the street, Viper."
Shoto's hand draws lazy shapes along his back. Izuku props his chin up on the half-and-half pro's chest, peering at him with imploring eyes. Shoto's eyes do that thing where they soften again, almost like he can't help himself when his gaze lands on Izuku's face.
Izuku can't imagine what he looks like when he looks at Shoto. For as long as they've been ending up here, dreaming of one another, he doesn't think he'll ever get over the awe.
"Trying to cheat on your analysis, are you? Get insider information?" Shoto asks drily, hand coming up to cup the back of Izuku's neck. "I see how it is. That's the only reason you keep me around. It's all I'm good for."
Izuku laughs. Shoto seems to puff up happily at the sound.
"You caught me. I keep you around to look good and do my work for me." Izuku teases, smooshing his cheek back down against him. From where his face is pressed against his chest, Izuku can here Shoto's heart skip a beat. "Nevermind that I've already figured out her quirk. Maybe I just wanted to hear what you thought. Maybe I just value your insight."
Shoto tugs lightly at his curls in response. Izuku reaches a hand over the side of their makeshift raft and splashes. It's surprising enough, apparently, that Shoto flails in response. Izuku lets out a shriek as they immediately capsize into the cool blue, so clear it's nearly like glass.
Izuku surfaces with his hair bogged down and eyes blinking rapidly. Shoto looks just as surprised as he sits up too, staring at him like he cannot believe that just happened. Their pillow raft, now flipped upside down, is already abandoning them downstream. Leaving them to the water and smooth river rocks to sit and stare stupidly at each other.
Shoto's hair sticks to his face. He looks just as gorgeous as ever even like this, with his clothes stuck awkwardly to him and his face the picture of astonishment. Izuku can't stop the grin that starts to creep up, even as he bites the inside of his cheek to try and halt it.
Shoto zones in on it. His expression changes.
"We can play that game." He says, and then suddenly a wave of water's coming for his face. Izuku lets out another squeal, throwing his arms up in a futile attempt to shield himself. He sends an answering one back, one that Shoto dives to dodge.
The fight that ensues makes Izuku feel like a little kid again. And for Shoto, who didn't get much of a childhood at all, it seems long overdue. Their energy here is limitless, and Shoto's competitive streak rivals Izuku's stubbornness in an equal match that sends them chasing one another up and down the stream.
Shoto's easy smile is worth the ice that's later shoved down the back of Izuku's shirt. Even if the biting cold of it follows him into the waking world.
There's little much else to do but get to know one another. Izuku's memory has always been excellent, and he absorbs everything there is to know about Shoto in no time flat.
They click. Even from that first night, when Shoto frowned down at him whilst Izuku sputtered foolishly, there'd been something there.
Where Izuku rambles, Shoto is calm. Where Shoto is irrational, Izuku is analytical. Where Izuku is anxious, Shoto is sure. Where Shoto is angry, Izuku is the voice of reason.
Izuku has always been cheerful. He loves to smile and loves to help others smile, and he has continued to do so despite the obstacles life has thrown at him. It seems perfect that Izuku should hold such a flame inside of him when Shoto's has been all but snuffed out by his own experiences.
It's not a passing of a torch, just the sharing of one. A single match can light more than one candle, after all.
"There are times when I think I'm not cut out to be a hero." Shoto says it bluntly, a point-blank statement with no room for argument or doubt. "This isn't a path I chose for myself. I'm good at it, but it... I didn't choose it. That's all."
Izuku looks at him appraisingly. He seems shy, the way he averts his gaze. There's doubt there-- this is a thought that's been festering in him for a while. And Izuku... well, he gets it. At least somewhat.
He'd had something he'd wanted to be and he hadn't gotten that. He'd gotten shoved into the next best thing, and though he was happy here now, it wasn't something he'd particularly chosen for himself. It was a path he'd gazed upon with uncertainty and wondered if it was truly right for him.
"Well, do you enjoy saving people?" Izuku asked. Shoto's eyes flicker up to him, and a small smile curves across his face at the sight of Izuku's encouraging grin. He softens like butter left out of the fridge, shoulders growing loose. "What about training? Do you enjoy that too?"
Shoto makes a contemplative face and Izuku can tell he's thinking. Unlike Izuku, who talks and talks and talks some more, Shoto has always very carefully considered his answers. He works them out and only says exactly what he wants to, and never anything more.
Izuku leans into his side. Shoto presses into him back, and the rest of the tension in him seems to release. Clearly, he'd thought Izuku would have a poor reaction to the question. And clearly, he was wrong.
"I... I do. I think no matter what I do, I'd like to save people. Help them in some way." Shoto admitted, sounding vulnerable enough for Izuku to know he'd likely never talked about this out loud before. "I enjoy training too, but only... only by my choice. Only when I get to push myself to the limits I know."
"Then there you have it." Izuku grins at him, ignoring the way his heart twists at the obvious callout to Endeavor. "You enjoy training, and you enjoy helping people. You're going to be an excellent hero, Shoto, but if there's anything else you'd rather do? You should never be anything aside from exactly what you want to be. This is your life. You can train to be a hero now, and go out into the field, but there's not a single thing wrong with changing your mind."
Izuku had changed his, after all. The desperation and bone-deep ache he used to feel towards his dream of being a hero had dulled since finally deciding to proceed forward into this new ambition. Not because that dream was gone, but because his definition of hero had changed. It was broader now.
Being a hero was more than a license that said you were one. It was more than flashing cameras, more than powerful quirks. It was how many people you saved and why, and absolutely nothing more. To be a hero was to be good, and to help. Izuku knew multiple ways to do that.
"I'll be a disappointment." Shoto whispers, and though he doesn't cry, he sounds close. His arm comes up around Izuku's shoulders and drags him closer. "I don't know how to do anything else."
Izuku pulls away from the warmth of his side so that Shoto is forced to look at him, then. His brows furrow and his lips twist into a frown.
"Nobody knows how to do anything at all until they learn it, and our ability to do that never, ever goes away." Izuku says, firm and unwavering. He injects every ounce of certainty in his tone. "And no matter what you decide to do with your life, a disappointment is something I am absolutely sure you are never going to be, Shoto. You're amazing, and you're good, and you're kind. And whatever you decide to do with all that doesn't matter-- it doesn't change the fact that it's all true, hero or not."
Shoto all but yanks Izuku into him this time. Izuku doesn't try to resist. He wraps his arms around him in return, closing his eyes as Shoto's nose buries in his hair. He's shaking all over, but he's not crying. Izuku is the crybaby here.
Izuku hopes that Shoto knows just how talented he is. Knows that he could do anything, be anything, and that he'd be the best at it. Izuku doesn't care if Shoto never becomes a hero. Izuku would admire him either way, not for what he is but for who he is on the inside. Because genuine goodness like this-- it's hard to find.
"Thank you." Shoto chokes out some time later. Still no tears fall, but Izuku can hear them on the edge. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
They hug the rest of the night, wrapped around one another. Izuku spends the rest of the next day with the ghostly sensation of arms encircling him.
There are nights where Shoto does not want to talk, and Izuku learned a long time ago how to be quiet. Those are the nights Izuku plays with his hair instead, making small braids and then loosely brushing them out. Dedicatedly separating red hair from stark white, and idly massaging along his shoulders and the back of his neck.
Shoto had been tense the first few times Izuku did it, but now he was like a cat melted into a puddle. With the occasional hum of pleasure, he keeps grip on one of Izuku's ankles, tracing idle circles along it.
It's an easy type of companionship that Izuku has always yearned for. The act of being so comfortable with one another that they can simply fall loose limbed and lax. It's a brand of casualness that Izuku does not even have with his own mother.
His days are stranger as college picks up and Kacchan spirals back into his life, apologetic but no less loud and bold. There's a balance Izuku finds as he and his childhood friend click back into place and find new footing with one another. Izuku won't allow himself too close-- not again. Not like he is with Shoto.
(He ignores the whispering part of himself that reminds him that this Shoto is not real. That the one out there does not know him and never will.)
Time passes slower here. Izuku has never minded, and he doesn't think Shoto does either. Or if he does, he's never complained. Izuku feels a bit like he's lived a lifetime at Shoto's side, seeing sights no others have, traversing and awing over the conjurations of his own mind.
Izuku's hand slips out of Shoto's hair and to his shoulder, and a cool and calloused palm comes up to meet him, fingers wrapping firm around. Shoto's hands are bigger than Izuku's are. Most quirkless people tend to be on the smaller side, a little more delicate than their quirked counterparts.
His fingers are long and strong, and Izuku swallows as Shoto tugs him forward in such a way that he's forced to lean into his back. A line of contrasting temperatures. Shoto hums as Izuku presses into him, cheek squishing against his upper back. The sound rumbles through him.
For a moment they are both still, and Izuku closes his eyes and breathes, relaxing into him. Shoto releases a breath of his own.
"I don't know what I'd do without you." Shoto says quietly. "You're the most important person in my life, a-and I think you always will be. You... You keep me sane, Izuku."
A mirroring of his own thoughts, thrown back in his face. Izuku blinks away the wetness in his eyes.
"You keep me sane too, Shoto." Izuku says, hand still trapped. Shoto gives it a squeeze. "And I wouldn't trade you for anything."
And isn't that the saddest part?
The first time Kacchan barges into his apartment and sees his bedroom, he immediately turns around and walks back out.
Izuku doesn't chase him like he might've in the past. He sits at his desk, laptop open and homework spread about. He knows what he looks like, with dark bags under his eyes and his hair a wild, flyaway mess of curls that stick up in every direction. Finals week has taken him by storm.
Kacchan's reintroduction into Izuku's life had been far more sudden than his exit, which felt like it had been gradually degrading more and more until finally their paths split. He rockets back in with full intention of being better. And whatever Kacchan sets his mind to, he achieves.
Izuku thinks this is probably what having a sibling is like. Sometimes they show up. Insult you. Bring you food. Nag on you. Open your door and stand in your room, and then leave without closing it. Occasionally they drag you out. You end up in an argument when they do.
He continues working. It takes Kacchan ten minutes to finally stomp his way back in. His entire face is red and contorted into an expression very much akin to constipation. Izuku stares at him with blank fascination. Has he ever seen such a look upon his face?
Kacchan slowly scans the room, looking utterly revolted the entire time. He then makes very deliberate eye contact with Izuku. Who, for the record, is so sleep deprived that he doesn't so much as blink.
"I thought Kaminari's fashion disaster of a shitty wardrobe was hell, but I can see now how fucking wrong I was." Kacchan says, strangely calm. "Now. You are going to get up, shower, come with me so I can feed your ass, and then you are going to sleep. Or I am setting this entire fucking room on fire and laughing while I do it."
Izuku peers at his room, now cluttered with a growing Shoto merch collection where All Might used to lay. He decidedly gets up and goes to shower.
"I can say your dad is a dick as much as I want to here." Izuku reasoned, and Shoto's laughter rang louder, his grin so wide it looked like it hurt. "In the waking world, I think his PR team would hunt me for sport. When's he going to finally retire? It's not like fire can go grey, but we all know he's slowing down. You should've seen the footage of his fight from last week. The camera picked up to crack of his knees when he got up, it was so loud."
These were the types of things Izuku would never, ever say to Shoto's face in real life. The dream one, with his horrific story of childhood that he'd opened up to Izuku about, revels in it though. And so Izuku revels in it too.
Besides, it's not like any of it isn't true. Endeavor really and truly sucks. And that's a hill Izuku will die on.
"I wish he would. At least then the bastard would stop hounding me for every little thing." Shoto muses. He's happy tonight, and Izuku's glad for his smile. "When he finally turns his shit agency over to me, you can help me revamp it."
A flash of something wistful goes through Izuku, and he can see from the flitting glint in Shoto's eyes that he feels it too. Something to fantasize about, but always, always out of reach.
Izuku's not one to ruin the mood, though. He grins instead, pushing himself and up out of the grass. This dream is simple-- a never ending lawn of soft, fresh clovers and a perpetual sunset. Izuku has never seen a sky of quite so many colors.
"Why wait? We can start planning now." Izuku chirps. "You can even stage a corporate takeover. You said you fired someone once, and if you can fire someone, you can hire them. And if you hire them, chances are they'll be more inclined to listen to you than your father."
He's joking. But also he's not joking at all, even slightly. Izuku sort of hates Endeavor with a fiery, burning passion. All puns intended.
Shoto has come to peace with the man these days. Apparently he's trying to do better and is going to therapy, and has laid off some, but that's not enough. Izuku isn't satisfied with just that. At least, not here in these dreams where Shoto shows up some days with a dazed expression and that horrifically desolate look in his eyes.
"Do you really think I could?" Shoto asks with genuine curiosity. His fingers are laced with Izuku's, as they commonly seem to be these days.
"I know you could, actually." Izuku turns more fully to face him, beaming. "I've had this plan for months now."
The smile Shoto gives him is fond and melting, and Izuku pretends he doesn't burn from the sappiness of it.
Together, they traverse entire worlds. They are always the only two there, and the realms they visit are always devastatingly beautiful in their own ways. And while Izuku peers out at the scenes with awe, the only thing Shoto can seem to look at is him.
Izuku doesn't know why. He himself is an observant person by both nature and practice. His job as a quirk analyst requires him to be. He's not new at the art of it, but the job is something he's still adjusting to, even if he's already been proclaimed best in the field with an email inbox full of inquiries.
Yet he cannot quite figure out why Shoto is... well, like this. So utterly focused on him all of the time, like Izuku is all there is to see. It's not that Izuku doesn't watch him back. Shoto is handsome enough to make Izuku's stomach flip and turn, and there are moments where he's helpless to do anything but stare at him.
It just doesn't make sense for him to stare back. At Izuku's face, splattered with freckles like mud, with his plain green eyes and even plainer hair. He is nothing of note, anxious and a terrible crybaby-- one who does nothing but ramble and mutter.
Shoto knows he is quirkless and doesn't care. He's Izuku's best friend and maybe that's why he doesn't mind everything else, but the staring-- the staring is the one thing Izuku can't figure out. And he's too afraid to ask.
Shoto always has this look when he does it. Izuku isn't dumb, nor is he naive. Disillusioned? Maybe, seeing as he's been having a series of interconnected dreams in which his favorite pro hero is his best friend and they cuddle and talk about their days and their emotions.
What does it say about him that the person he's closest to isn't real? It doesn't bode well for his future, but Izuku is past caring. He likes having this. He refuses to let himself fall into the same trap of thinking too hard about it.
Life was far too short not to enjoy its offerings, even if said offerings may potentially come from a form of psychosis.
Maybe he shouldn't worry about why Shoto stares, either. His nerves never got him anywhere. What they have is perfect, and they're happy. That's all that matters.
"Do you see it, Shoto? God, it's gorgeous." Izuku gazes out at the vast sky, the miasmic light reflecting across his face. "I've always wanted to see the northern lights. I was just reading about them the other day!"
Shoto grip on his hand tightens.
"Yeah." Shoto says quietly, almost sadly. "They're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I think."
(He's not looking at the lights when he says it.)
They play games and they talk. They talk about their friends and their lives. About their memories and their dreams.
Their friendship is a strong one. Izuku's bond with Kacchan when they were children seems measly and pathetic compared to the trust with which Shoto looks at him, and the honesty with which Izuku looks back.
They are two planets that seem to orbit one another. Is such a thing possible? Izuku doesn't know. He just knows the circle, not close enough to touch but near enough to see and to feel. He knows, at the very least, that it is quite possibly the most wonderful thing in the entire universe if nothing else.
"I have no idea how you let it get like this." Shoto gripes at him. Izuku's wearing his Duality themed pajamas, and already his hair is a mess. "I've never seen a bedhead quite this bad."
"Would you believe me if I told you that this isn't far off from how it normally looks?" Izuku asked, sitting patiently and allowing Shoto to try his best to fix it despite him knowing well enough by now that it's not going to happen. "It's the curse of curls. It comes from my dad's side."
Shoto grunts at him, squinting endearingly and leaning closer. Izuku is used to the routine by now. He's pretty sure Shoto does it just so he has a reason to be close, though they both know he never needs an excuse.
"It's cute." Shoto offers bluntly. Izuku's heard it enough times that his cheeks only go mildly pink, puffing out indignantly. "It suits you. I just don't know how it manages to look like this on its own. Like a tornado blew through it."
Izuku's hair has long since been an object of fascination for Shoto. Curls aren't common in Japan-- not curls like this, anyhow. Izuku makes a mock offended noise, mildly batting his hands away. Shoto scrunches his nose in response.
Today they're in a wintery wonderland, full of powdery white and towering pine trees. It's not cold like it should be, but still chilly enough for Izuku to shove himself up into Shoto's fire side.
Realistically speaking, this is the type of place Izuku would very quickly fall victim to hypothermia in. His feet somehow aren't freezing, bare and un-socked, and no moisture clings to the legs of his pajama pants. It makes for an odd sensation, his brain not computing that the expectation of what he's seeing isn't coming to fruition.
"Enough about my hair. We're in the middle of a snowy forest. We have to make a snowman." Izuku insists. Shoto's smile widens. "I hope you're not attached to that sweater you have on. It'll need a makeshift scarf.
"I've never made a snowman before." Shoto notes idly, though with obvious delight as Izuku reaches down to scoop up snow.
He stops, half-formed ball still cupped in hand. Shoto peers down at him with bemusement written all over his face as Izuku slowly straightens back up, brows climbing dramatically. He makes sure to put every ounce of incredulity he can into his expression.
It seems to work, because Shoto's grin grows. He looks younger, more his age when he's smiling. Izuku is glad to see him happy. If anyone deserves to be in this world, it's most certainly him.
"You have an ice quirk," Izuku says carefully, "and you've never made a snowman?"
Shoto laughs. Their snowman is a little lopsided, with bark for eyes and a nose, but they make it work. And Shoto's dark grey sweater makes an excellent scarf.
They kiss for the first time on an alien planet, full of fluorescent plants that glow in low, bright tones. It is otherworldly and beautiful in a way their Earth isn't, unreal in more ways than just its fauna, and Shoto cradles his face like he is something precious and leans in when Izuku finally looks away from one of the strange flower bulbs he'd been poking curiously at.
It's the day Shoto finally hits the top ten that it happens. Izuku's already almost two years out of college, an early graduate ever dedicated to his new, focused passion of professional analysis and quirk science. His hero dream channeled through a different lens, and out refracts a rainbow of possibilities for a future Izuku had once feared might hold nothing special.
His lips are half hot and half cold, mixing strangely in the middle. They are soft and perfect, and Izuku goes still in surprise at the feel of them on his own. Because he knows he should pull away, knows he shouldn't, that he's already in too deep and any deeper, he'll never--
But he can't help himself. Not with Shoto holding onto him like he is the most valuable thing in the world.
It's been years. Years of this striking, choking build up. This seems like an inevitability. They have always been two puzzle pieces on the cusp of clicking together. One of them breaking was all that needed to happen to get them there.
And apparently Shoto had. He kisses Izuku with everything in him. He is thorough and meticulous, and Izuku cannot stop from melting into him. His arms come up of their own accord and lace behind Shoto's neck, tugging him closer, because even this is not close enough.
Shoto is worshipful with his touches. He holds Izuku like he's delicate, something he may lose if he's not gentle enough. Not because he thinks Izuku's weak, but because he values him enough to be careful with him. Shoto, respectful and kind and someone who feels emotion in great, leaping bounds.
The way he handles Izuku, you would think he was a priceless work of art. They sink to the ground, and Izuku finds himself pulled into his lap, straddling him. Shoto engulfs him, treating him with more adoration than Izuku has ever been subject to in his entire life.
"I love you." Shoto murmurs against his lips, and it comes out sounding broken. It is broken. This all is. "I love you so much. I love you more than anything else, Izuku. You're everything to me. I'd be nowhere without you. Nowhere at all."
It's another tragedy. It's wrong, Izuku knows. But he also knows that there's no one else out there for him either, and he's come to terms with being okay with that.
So Izuku lets himself have this too. Shoto is real to him. This version of Duality is his and his alone. This time they've spent together, these years they've grown up and around each other. Shoto is as much a part of him as Izuku is a part of Shoto, and no amount of doubt is going to separate what's already done.
"I love you too." Izuku chokes out wetly. He's crying, though that's really no surprise. "I've never-- I-I've never loved someone the way I love you. You're-- You're it. Y-You're just it."
Shoto smiles against his lips, so incandescently happy, and yet so utterly devastated.
"You're it." He echoes the sentiment back, and Izuku mirrors his pain. "You're mine, and this-- this is it, isn't it?"
It is. But in the same way that everything else has been okay so far, this has to be too. Because neither of them will survive the alternative and they know it. Reality is sitting there, a quiet reminder of how strange and wrong this is. Of how sad.
It's too late now, though. Izuku pulls him in for another kiss.
Shoto had been craving it. Izuku was content with what he could get: hugs, cuddling, held hands. They were enough for him.
But Shoto was someone who strove for more, more, better, and more. His life had been controlled for so long that now he couldn't help but reach for what he wanted until it was firmly grasped in hand. This is no different, and Izuku feels utterly consumed.
The barrier has broken. The nights following their kiss, it feels like Shoto's hands hardly leave him. They map out every inch, every plane of skin, every freckle and every curve. He kisses Izuku to the point of breathlessness, muttering out his love in a continuous stream just as endless as the worlds they find themselves in night after night.
Izuku's love for him is overwhelming. He knows he's shifted in the daytime too, sunnier and chirpier, with a little more confidence. People would call him pathetic if they knew the source, but they don't so it doesn't matter, and Izuku is perfectly fine with that.
Shoto is usually so level-headed, but now he seems almost frenzied. Words spill out of him the same way they usually spilled out of Izuku. The tables had been flipped, and now it all pours out in the form of previously unspoken words and compliments that make Izuku red up to the roots of his hair.
It seems impossible for anyone to love him as much as Shoto does. He reminds himself again and again that it's a dream. It's not real. His love for Shoto is insurmountable, and because of that, Shoto's love for him is insurmountable back. His brain has made this all up, and--
And it's brilliant for doing so. This time has been a gift, no matter how meaningless it may seem to some people. Izuku does not think of this Shoto as the one from out there any longer-- hasn't for a while if he's honest with himself.
This Shoto is his. The other isn't. And if he was asked to choose, he would choose his own in a heartbeat.
"You're so perfect." Shoto is holding his face again. He does that a lot, just smiling sappily and gazing down into his eyes. "So many freckles. I've tried to count them before, but I swear there's a new one every day. Too many constellations to trace."
Izuku's face starts to heat again. This new side of Shoto is more open, and he still needs to get used to it.
"Stop saying stuff like that." He scolds lightly, though his words come out wobbly. "It's embarrassing! Besides, my freckles aren't anything but a mess. Just like my hair."
He's nothing like Shoto, with his straight, strong nose. Not too long but not too short either, the type people got surgeries to achieve. A perfect face and sharp jaw, and gorgeous eyes to boot. Rippling muscle corded across a lean, tall body that towered several inches over Izuku's own, honed and trained for combat.
He's a hero. Successful and handsome, loved by the masses. This may be a dream, but this is still Duality. Izuku doesn't even begin to measure up.
"Don't talk about yourself like that. I've waited so-- so long to say this all. I'm going to say it." Shoto had told him this before, always sounding breathless as he did. As though still processing that this was happening. "You're mine. You're finally mine and you're perfect. I never thought I'd have you and now I do. You've made me the happiest I've ever been. You're never getting rid of me, Izuku, not after this."
One hand drops, arm snaking around Izuku's waist and holding him flush. He leans down close, eyes piercing. Izuku is helpless, smitten and lovestruck. He feels intoxicated.
"Shoto. I would never try to get rid of you." Izuku swears. "I love you. I love you and you're-- you're the best part of my life, okay? So don't think for even a second that I'd willingly go anywhere in the world that you weren't."
Shoto's lips are on his in a heartbeat. He kisses like he's dying for it, and Izuku's the only cure. Izuku closes his eyes and succumbs to it.
They still talk, they still joke and laugh and do all the things they did before. They just do it with a lot more kissing. And touching. And with Shoto staring at Izuku even more blatantly, often grinning sappily as he does.
They adjust. They find their balance just like they always have, and somehow things are even more perfect than before. Izuku feels content. This is a whole lot more than most people get. Maybe this love isn't real in a traditional sense, but it feels that way, and Shoto is one of the most tangible things Izuku has ever known.
"I wish I could marry you." Shoto tells him. He seems fond of holding Izuku in his lap, and sitting atop the highest tower of this architectural marvel of a castle does nothing to effect this preference. "I'd do it. I'd invite every news station too, just so they could all see you're mine."
He'd never pegged Shoto for such a romantic, but god. There's hardly a night that goes by that Izuku's face isn't red these days.
"Let's just be married then. What's stopping us?" Izuku hums, trying to force the flush in his cheeks away. "We can do anything here. So let's just say we're married."
It shouldn't seem so simple, but it is. It's the easiest thing he's ever said.
Idly, Izuku thinks of a life where he and Shoto really are married, together in a world where they can truly live life with one another. They've experienced so much just in these dreams alone. They've seen the impossible, have even done it. They've cried and laughed. They've joked and they've shouted.
Izuku found his best friend for life. He fell in love. He's hit milestone after milestone, all right here next to Shoto. This has been his beginning, and he hopes the dreams never end. He hopes they are forever.
"You'd really marry me?" Shoto asked, gazing down at Izuku as though he were the sun, the moon, and the stars all together. "Just like that?"
"Just like that." Izuku says in a heartbeat, and Shoto joy leaves his heart full for days.
Let it be said that Shoto has never felt love like this before. This all-consuming heat that surrounds him on all sides. Izuku is everything beautiful to ever exist in the world, a light delivered to him during his darkest time.
He's perfect. Eyes like emeralds and messy curls. Short and sweet, covered in smatters of freckles that race across tanned skin. Shoto covets him, soaks in every piece of him he can get. He cannot have him in the waking world, so he will settle for having him like this.
There is nothing Shoto would not do for him. He would give everything up for him, just to keep him, just to see him, even. He's never made friends easily. Even now he is distant from his former classmates, who reach out in regular intervals, a few even working directly with him.
He cannot make connections as well as others. He's never been able to. It's why Izuku was such a shock, the way he'd broken through Shoto's shell with blazing eyes, refusing to back down. Shoto had watched a stuttering and anxious mess of a boy transform into an immovable object, one that told him that his fire was his, and suddenly Shoto was gone.
It's as though Izuku was made for him. Shoto feels like he can never quite get enough. He takes and takes and takes, and he still wants more. And Izuku just lets him-- he lets Shoto have all he wants. Lets him listen, and stare, and touch, and kiss. Lick and bite and feel, endlessly, hopelessly.
He's drunk off of him. If anything worthwhile has ever happened to him, Izuku is it. He is just Shoto's and Shoto's alone, and in some ways he's okay with that. There is so much time where it's just them. Where Shoto can have him, uninterrupted.
Shoto gets to hear him talk. Gets to greedily hoard him and his laughter, his spark. Izuku listens to him, understanding him in a way he's certain nobody else in the world could. This is it. Izuku is the love of his life, and without him, Shoto's not...
He's not sure he'd be much of anything at all.
Shoto is accustomed to pain, but there is nothing quite like the quiet agony of waking up in a bed that's empty. Of slogging through the day with an ever-present awareness that the love of his life does not exist for anyone but himself. Because yes, Shoto gets him all to himself, but--
He wants others to see him too. He wants to go out with him to places. He wants to have dates, and live together in domestic bliss the way he's always secretly yearned for. He wants what his parents didn't get. He wants love so much it's sickening. That others gag a little, or snicker and talk about 'young love'.
He wants matching rings and a ceremony. He wants their pictures across every news cover. He wants to go to Izuku's award ceremonies when he solves yet another case, writes yet another ground-breaking paper. He wants to make him lunch every day to take with him to work, and wants to collapse onto him when he gets home from a day of heroing.
He wants Izuku to see his agency. He wants him to meet his brother and sister. He wants to show him off to his friends. He wants the world to see Izuku, and to see that Shoto has him and is proud of such. He wants to be happy. He wants Izuku.
And he has him, almost. In this roundabout, just-out-of-reach kind of way that tortures him endlessly.
He'd never really dreamed until then. At first he'd thought Izuku was nothing more than his brain's attempt to chase away the nightmares, but he knows it's more than that. Izuku is too complex.
Maybe he's his soulmate from another life. Perhaps he lives in another world entirely. Possibly, he doesn't exist at all, some weird manifestation of something Shoto can't identify or describe. He's too intelligent to just be a creation made by Shoto's overactive imagination. Too vivid, too beautiful a thing for him to have made.
Shoto doesn't know and almost doesn't care where he came from. He has no idea why Izuku lets Shoto touch him and hold him the way he does. He has no idea how Izuku can possibly love him back with such certainty shining in his eyes. Shoto doesn't know.
He doesn't focus on that. It's easier not to. To instead come here every night to someone who actually gives a shit about him and his day. Somehow, Izuku cares. So much it hurts sometimes. His kindness is boundless, his capacity for good a bottomless pit. He is a well full of something incomprehensibly bright.
Love is so complicated. Shoto had never thought he'd feel it. He'd grown up witnessing the toxicity between his mother and father, and he'd vowed to himself that he'd never, ever end up like them. That he wouldn't fall in love, or get married.
He would be alone, and no one could hurt him that way. He told himself one day he'd have a friend, maybe two. He'd be a hero that saved people, and those smiles would make up for the ones he didn't have at home.
Izuku had ripped that rug out right from underneath him. He was a flurry, fast-paced and always on the move. Shoto was jerked back and forth through spontaneous decisions and conversations and he'd adored every second of it, all the way from Izuku's first ramble about quirk mutation and the ramifications it'll hold if they continue to evolve the way they are.
His intelligence is a wonder. His smile is something Shoto has made sure is ingrained in his mind. Those eyes sparkle with more life than the entire population of Japan has combined. The places he and Izuku visit are magical in a sense, but not so much as Izuku is, with his sharp wit and willingness to sink into Shoto like that's exactly where he belongs.
(And isn't it? Isn't by Shoto's side exactly where he should be?)
He can't have him during the day. But he can have him at night, and if Shoto gets a lifetime of that, he'll take it. He'll take anything he can get. This is his best friend. This is soulmate. This is the rest of his life, and Shoto is stupidly, deliriously in love.
Young love, he'd once thought, was such a silly concept. But at twenty three years old, being in the top five pro heroes isn't his life's greatest achievement.
Getting down on one knee for someone who isn't real is. And that, Shoto thinks, just about sums it up.
Shoto teaches him how to dance in a cathedral of stained glass.
Light paints the area in swathes of colors Izuku didn't even know existed. They stroke against Shoto's skin, sliding against his face and arms. Izuku didn't think it possible, but it somehow makes his smile all the more heart-melting.
"Does this count as our first dance?" Izuku wonders aloud. It's been two months since Shoto got down on one knee a mere night after expressing a wish to marry Izuku, a dandelion tied into a ring presented to him with flourish. "It's not like we've danced since then. Even if I do keep stepping on your feet, I think this may be it. How do you feel?"
"Like a married man." Shoto answers dutifully, guiding him through a simple spin. It's only his firm grip on his waist that keeps Izuku from stumbling. "Do you hear the angels singing? The bells tolling?"
Izuku swears he didn't used to be this sarcastic. Izuku must've rubbed off on him. Or hey, maybe it was Kacchan. You go to school with him for a while and you pick some things up. Izuku's curse word reservoir, though rarely touched, is vast.
They spin again, and Shoto dips him dizzily. They're close enough that the tips of their nose almost touch, and Izuku turns his head and pecks him on the lips. They're absolutely disgusting, really. At least there's no one here to awkwardly avert their eyes from their sappy displays.
"You're very funny. I'm laughing so hard." Izuku's voice is flat, but he's grinning. Shoto twirls him a few times fast, probably on purpose just to see him almost trip. "You know, I think you suggested this just so you could hold it over me that you didn't let me fall."
Shoto is suspiciously silent at that, though he does purse his lips. Izuku raises his brows to drive home his point, chest buzzing with that same, light and fuzzy feeling it always gets when they're together. Happiness is a spectrum, but Izuku's pretty sure he's hit the absolute extreme and it can't get better than this.
It's strange dancing without music, but they set their own rhythm. Once Izuku starts finally getting the hang of it, it doesn't really matter that the sound of their own feet and voices are all they have to swirl around to. It's just as perfect as everything else seems to be.
They talk for hours. Conversation has always been effortless with them. Izuku never runs out of things to say or ask, and Shoto never gets tired of responding or asking questions of his own. There's still so much to know even after all this time.
"You've finally stopped stepping on me." Shoto points out as they start to slow into more of a sway. "I thought I'd have two broken feet by the end. Thankfully it's just the one, so I'm sure I'll live."
"What have I done to you?" Izuku mourns. This is a further divide between his Shoto and the waking one. The waking one never smiles, and he certainly doesn't crack jokes like this. "You used to be nice. Normal. Now all you do is snark at me."
Shoto completely ignores him, gazing down at him with a smile that grows gentle around the edges. Izuku's own expression starts to mush as well, and soon they've come to a complete standstill, simply staring at one another. Sappily into one another's eyes.
If you'd told Izuku before all these dreams that he'd be standing in a place like this tonight, lovingly getting lost in the mismatched irises of his favorite pro hero, he'd laugh.
"I know a few things you could do to make me feel better." Shoto murmurs, already leaning close. His hands on Izuku's waist tighten. "Since I'm so hurt and all. I'm sure you know what, smart as you are."
"I have a few guesses." Izuku muses, and Shoto's lips are just as soft as ever.
Izuku should've known Kacchan would do something about it eventually. The him being a hermit thing, anyway.
"These are tickets to this years Hero-Con. This is a VIP badge to my fucking panel, the one I'm on with all the other shitty extras." He slams them down on his desk, sending several very important papers flying. Izuku watches them flutter to the floor in dismay. "You get the fuck out of this office and you show up. First in fucking line. Or I'm killing you."
He does this every so often. A few months will go by and he'll pop up, probably because Izuku's mom called him, and he'll force him to have an obligatory trip out of the house for something other than work. Izuku has never not complied before, but--
"Duality will be there." He realizes, staring down at the badge and feeling strangely empty.
Kacchan raises an unimpressed brow at him, hands planted on his hips. He looks just like his mother. Izuku momentarily lingers on how utterly absurd the sight is. The Number Four pro, venturing into the hovel of a quirkless nerd with too much on his plate, scolding him for not getting out more.
Izuku doesn't call the Shoto of here by his name out loud. Out loud he is Duality, a distant figure that Izuku thinks about almost as an abstract concept. Something flexible and plastic. It hurts too much otherwise.
He knows they overlap. In his posters and action figures, he sees both. He will always admire Duality as a hero, will always love him just a little for being a piece of what his mind has constructed. Never has Izuku planned to make contact.
"Yeah, Icyhot'll be there. Shouldn't you be happy as shit about that?" Katsuki gives the poster above his desk a little sneer. "I'll even introduce you. And I'll only use the word creep once."
Izuku opens his mouth to say no. He is absolutely not going. He can't. He won't.
He'll probably break down in tears facing a Shoto who doesn't know or recognize him, because he's just that pathetic and needs therapy desperately. But sort of doesn't want it. And him not wanting it is more indication of how much he needs it. Endless and vicious cycle, honestly.
He has to keep them separate. He has so far. He's had opportunities to meet and even work with Duality and he's dodged every single one. Not a great look for his career, but Izuku's mental health is at stake here.
He's always said yes to Kacchan. But this time he's determined to draw a line, he's going to say no, and he's--
Going to go anyway. Because Kacchan always gets what he wants, apparently. Izuku doesn't know why he tries anymore.
It won't be so bad. It's a meet and greet panel-- he can move anywhere he wants down the line of attending heroes. He'll say hi to Kacchan and skip all the rest, even if it'll hurt the hero nerd in him. That way nobody else is singled out and it's not weird, and Kacchan can verify that yes, he did, in fact, listen and exit his home as instructed.
Izuku used to absolutely live for events like these. He'd buy his tickets months in advance, memorizing a map of the entire con and planning where he was going and when so that he could properly hit all the events he wanted to. He'd have a full time table, an itinerary he'd follow to a T.
At hero conventions, he wasn't just quirkless. He wasn't set apart from the crowd. He was a giddy fan like any other, excited and hyped to meet some pros and talk quirks and rankings. He was just like everyone else, and that's something he'd valued greatly growing up.
He hadn't been to one in a while. Izuku worked with a number of pro heroes thanks to his work, though admittedly mostly from home. He was a largely faceless figure. Renowned in his field, but fame wasn't something he needed or wanted, and that was fine. So long as he was helping.
He feels shaky as he stares up at the bustling convention center. His anxiety isn't what it used to be, having calmed to a gentle hum over the years as he came into his own and found his own confidence. Still, knowing Duality is in this building, that a version of Shoto...
Izuku shook his head and took a breath, reminding himself that he was here for Kacchan. Just Kacchan and nothing else.
The place is about as crowded as you'd expect, knowing that some of the top heroes in the country are around and going to be meeting with the public. Izuku can't quite help but smile at all the Duality and Ground Zero costumes he sees milling about, groups of cosplayers clustered together and taking photos with other admirers of their craft.
Izuku feels like he both blends in and sticks out. In a nondescript All Might hoodie, he sinks into the crowd, the same as any other young adult ready to geek out over statistics that nobody else really understands. He's invisible. Practically a ghost.
It's the VIP badge around his neck that sets him apart. Kacchan had said some very colorful words about what would happen if he wasn't wearing it at all times. The urge to tuck it away was strong, the sleek black, gold and orange reflecting light and showing that he was here at Ground Zero's personal invite.
He hadn't gotten a neon wristband like everyone else. This was his wristband, a big block with the letters VIP printed out on it, explosions framing it. He and Kacchan had designed it years ago after he refused to let the business team help with his official branding after his graduation, and Izuku was the only one out of the two of them that knew anything about how to work a graphic's program.
It had held strong, and Izuku felt a little warm and proud looking at it. He just didn't want to be the one wearing it is all. Normally it was only Kacchan's parents who got these. Barring the one Izuku had hanging on his wall at home-- their first prototype, which was nowhere near as sparkly as this one was-- he'd never thought he'd hold one again for any official reason.
Yet here he is. And yeah, most people glance over it. But this place is chock full of diehard hero fans, and their eyes magnetize to it like sharks honing in on blood in the water.
"Ground Zero never gives out VIP badges." The woman is middle aged and has a recorder in her hand, which tells Izuku everything he needs to know as she forcibly grabs it and tilts it in the light. The holographic X shines back at her, a sign of authenticity. "Where did you get this? Do you know Ground Zero personally? Are you here to see him?"
Izuku eyes the red recording light on the tape recorder and decisively keeps his mouth shut, giving her a withering look. She doesn't bat an eye at it. Izuku loses her in the crowd and slinks off to the artist alley to try and find a new Duality keychain to add to his collection.
He keeps his body hunched and oddly angled, trying to keep eyes off the gaudy thing. He wonders if he could convince Kacchan to go for something subtler. Probably not. Something about being the best and boldest-- who the hell knows.
It's a nice distraction at least. In dodging the hungry eyes of anyone who recognizes it from Kacchan's official social media releases, he keeps his mind off his impending doom.
It'll be fine. Izuku will go. Kacchan will see him, probably rib him a little bit. Izuku will flee the scene and that'll be that. It'll be like ripping off a band aid. Quick, easy, and over as quick as it starts.
He'll go home. Gush over all the Duality merch he got. Go to sleep, see his Shoto just like he does every night, see the sights, talk the talks, kiss the... kisses? You get what he means. In an ironic twist of events, he's going to get this over with and it'll all be like one big, bad dream.
The meet and greet line is predictably already out well into the lobby. It zigzags through the actual room, which is packed to the brim. Izuku stands hovering by the crowded mouth of it, gawping like an idiot when one of the security personnel spots him and his badge and all but leaps on him.
Fighting through the rush is like fighting through a packed can of sardines. It's deafeningly loud as people wait for the curtain to open to reveal the table of pros, and Izuku can only hope the first one he'll see is Kacchan and nobody else.
He feels twitchy and uncertain as he's placed smack at the front of the line, garnering a dirty look from the exuberant teenagers right behind him. He shrinks into himself slightly, giving an apologetic wince and fingering his VIP badge awkwardly.
He can barely hear himself think over the chatter. The entire room is full, cameras flashing, people cheering and laughing. Cosplayers dot the sea of heads. Izuku internally curses Kacchan, already plotting ways to get him back for this. Getting out? Izuku will do that every so often with no complaint. This is practically akin to going off to war, though.
His palms feel sweaty and slick. He takes a deep, shaky breath and wipes them against his pants, smoothing down his hoodie and trying not to look too vastly uncomfortable. Shoto will be here, but he won't be Izuku's. He won't be and that's... going to hurt. It's going to remind him all over again that--
Nevermind. He'll go straight to the store after this and get some ice cream. A whole pint that he'll eat by himself while he cries and watches All Might documentaries to comfort himself. He's about overdue for a pity party, right? He can get some work done too and hit the hay early. It'll be great.
The dimmed lights brighten slightly, and Izuku jolts as the room goes up in a deafening roar of clapping, screams, and whistles. Izuku cringes at the sheer volume of it, sharing a commiserating look with one of the con's security making sure nobody slips out of line and tries to force their way forward fanatically.
"Welcome, everyone, to this years Hero Con line up! I know what you're really here for, so I'll keep this short." A chirpy voice greets over the intercoms, and the clapping turns thunderous. "We've got quite the group here with us today, so I hope you're all ready! Everybody put your hands together for the wonderful heroes who've joined us today! I'm sure you already know who they are!"
Izuku is half tempted to plug his ears. He can't stop the shot of adrenaline that pours through him, almost like an old forgotten response. A part of it is truly nostalgic. He used to be right there with them, screaming at the top of his lungs, eyes alight and heart racing like he was about to enter a gladiator's ring.
Unable to quite help himself, a small smile comes upon his face, and he lets out a breath. He's done this before. It's been a while, but it's Kacchan. He'd offered him this because he knew Izuku was still the biggest hero nerd to ever walk this planet, and because he'd thought he would enjoy it.
And truly, he had. Maybe, if this entire meet and greet thing doesn't shatter him into a million pieces and forever ruin conventions for him, he'll consider attending another.
"Without further ado, get ready everyone!" The curtains start to reel back. "Give a big welcome to these amazing pros! Plus ultra!"
"PLUS ULTRA!" The crowd shrieks in absolute pandemonium. Izuku laughs a little, even if his ears ring from it.
Kacchan is blessedly the first person he sees, and Izuku keeps his eyes trained on him as he raises his hand in a sheepish little wave. The grin that grows across his childhood friend's face is the same fierce one he used to wear when they were still running around playgrounds and taking over the sandbox.
It's a bit violent and bloodthirsty looking. He leans over to Red Riot-- a hero Izuku has met before and worked with in the past, and elbows him hard in the side to point. Izuku's face flushes a little bit as the room starts to quiet and he's ushered forward, security ready to get this event on the move.
Izuku stumbles a little. More cameras flash, and everyone starts to fall silent, desperate to hear what questions are asked and what answers are given. Half Q&A and half meet and greet, everyone is eager to learn as much as they can about the top pros in the field.
Izuku feels a tad dizzy under all the eyes. Everyone is attentive, especially as Kacchan shoves his microphone aside in a way that makes it screech. Izuku allows him to reach over the table and cuff him on the shoulder, grabbing him to give him a little shake.
He gives him somewhat of a shove back, letting out a deep breath and letting his shoulders fall slack. He's fine. He's fine, and he made it, and this-- this is all okay. Why did he think this was going to go terribly again?
"Shitty Deku! I didn't think you'd show." Katsuki cackles, and the entire room hears and goes up in a clamor of more cheering. "Finally emerged from your damn cave. One day I'll come check on you and you'll have been dead a week."
Izuku makes a face. He does not look further down the table. He won't. He feels eyes on him, can almost feel Duality and the way he distorts the temperature around him, but Izuku won't give into the temptation.
"Kacchan, that's horrible." He tries to say it sternly, but it comes out sounding whining. He shoots the beaming Red Riot a hesitant grin, ignoring the way his hands shake a little as he shoves them into his hoodie pocket. "Nice to see you again too! I know it's been a while since--"
Izuku's not going to so much as look that way, like he'd promised himself before. He's really not. He's going to make a moment of small talk, make an excuse about missing some booths, and he's going to leave. Let them start working through the gargantuan line. People will be standing for hours, and he doesn't want to take up so much time that he takes someone else's away.
It was going to be easy. Izuku had talked himself up all day. He'd distracted himself, throwing himself into the con. The bag on his arm was stuffed full of fan-made and official merchandise alike. This was going to be a day of good memories and experiences. It was going to be fine.
He'll see Shoto in the stars, or maybe the clouds. On the ridge of a great valley, or in the center of a wondrous lake. Izuku does not have to see him here under fluorescent lights, with the beginnings of a headache beginning to form from the noise, if he does not want to.
But then... then--
There's the screech of metal chair legs scraping on linoleum, followed by the deafening bang of it falling on the ground from how hard it was shoved back. The room goes fully quiet. And despite himself, Izuku can't stop himself from looking towards the source.
(It feels like a mistake as he does it. In reality, it's anything but.)
His breath leaves him in one fail swoop. Shoto looks just like he does in Izuku's dreams, right down to the exact length of his hair. It's so uncanny to see him this close, to see how strikingly identical they both are. Izuku freezes, throat growing tight. Everyone turns to stare at Duality.
It feels a bit like the world has stopped. This is nothing like their dreams. There are other people here, whispering. Camera go off with sharp flashes and loud clicks. They are not alone in a wonderland of a kind like they always are when Izuku falls asleep. This is a hero convention, in the real world, and Izuku is wide awake.
Green eyes meet mismatched ones, just as they have hundreds and hundreds of times before. And Izuku wishes he could run, wishes he could get out of here, but he can't. He feels stuck in place and like nothing's real.
Shoto's standing up. His chair is discarded on the ground behind him, slammed back from how fast he stood up. He's got his hands planted on the table, and he's staring--
Right at him. Not at Kacchan, or at Kirishima, or at the waiting crowd. But at Izuku. He holds his gaze, and Izuku watches with twisting bewilderment as tears start to rapidly fill his heterochronic eyes. He blinks.
Shoto looks utterly shocked, lips parted in surprise and eyes wide. His face has gone pale and Izuku can tell that he's shaking terribly. Every part of him screams to reach out and comfort him, and he has to bemoan that he's not allowed to.
Unless... unless... no--
No. No, they were just dreams. Izuku was sure they were dreams. There was no other explanation. Every night he fell asleep, and every night he arrived in some brand new place with Shoto. Izuku was a weird, hero-obsessed fan who'd created some unreal fantasy in his head. He knew it.
(He... He did know it, didn't he? He'd... He'd have known if--)
"What the hell?" Kacchan's voice snapped out. "The fuck are you looking at him like that for? You got a problem, Icyhot?"
Izuku opened his mouth to say something, anything, and couldn't. He could feel his own eyes starting to sting, because he knows Shoto. Not Duality, but Shoto Todoroki.
And this... this is him. He recognizes him. This is genuinely him. Izuku blinks fast to try and dispel the illusion but it doesn't waver. Shoto is still standing there, staring at him like his whole world is falling apart.
Izuku feels like an idiot for not noticing sooner. Because this is impossible, but no more impossible than the dreams. He should've known. He should've... this whole time, all the agonizing over the falsehood, and all of it had been real from the beginning.
This is as inevitable as their first kiss was, Izuku thinks. He'd known those dreams were real to an extent, sure. He'd know the Shoto he'd shared so much time with was more than just a construct. Izuku's supposed to be smart. Why hadn't it occurred to him that the Shoto in the real world might be adjacent to the one he knew so well?
Why didn't he notice they they were the exact same fucking person?
The Shoto on the news doesn't smile. He doesn't joke, and he's not sarcastic. He put on a cold front that he's never shown to Izuku, so maybe it's not his fault he never thought this was a remote possibility. Maybe, but Izuku's supposed to notice things like this. It is quite literally his job.
Izuku's weird. He's always been a little creepy, the way he hoards information and takes it apart. He'd thought his adoration had morphed into the form of these dreams, and that was just that. He should've known better. He should've known that love like that couldn't possibly be fake.
"Izuku." Shoto breathes out like a trembling prayer, and Kacchan makes a sound.
The room erupts with screams and shrieks as Shoto all but scrambles his way over the long table, knocking his bottle of water and autograph supplies off as he does. Uravity lets out a yelp of surprise, backing up slightly to give him room to vault it.
"O-Oh my god." Izuku chokes out, trying to blink rapidly through his tears and failing. Shoto stumbles to him, hands reaching. "It's real?"
It seems a redundant question ask now as Shoto's hands make contact with him, familiar and just as tangible as they always feel. They almost go flying from how hard Shoto stumbles into him, gasping for air and struggling to breathe, like Izuku's presence alone has taken away his ability to.
Shoto drags him into a tight embrace that has the crowd shrieking at the top of their lungs, but somehow it barely reaches Izuku's ears. He's too busy crying. It's been a long time since he's sobbed out tears like rivers, but he couldn't stop them if he tried. His hands twist into the back of Shoto's costume.
He hears Kacchan try to say something, and there's a hand on his shoulder. Shoto's sobs are quiet but there, the choking kind that tear out of his throat against his will. It's only the second time that Izuku has heard or seen him cry, but somehow this time is less painful than the first.
Izuku's brain spins out of control. He can barely process what's happening as Shoto rips away from him to bring his hands up and cup his face, searching Izuku's eyes desperately. The curtain to the Q&A area starts to close, security doing its best to usher people and news reporters back.
This'll be everywhere. Izuku, as Shoto dips down to slot their lips together despite the increasing volume of the crowd, couldn't care less.
"What the FUCK?!" Kacchan howls. It's only Kirishima's hardening quirk that keeps him from reaching for Shoto's hair and yanking, the redhead looking a bit bug-eyed but mostly just confused.
Creati hovers, seeming lost. Lemillion lets out a whistle and starts to clap along with the crowd, beaming and with clearly no idea what the fuck is going on. Izuku, who knew at least that there was a Duality of a kind out there, cannot imagine what it was like for Shoto to think there was no version of Izuku existing out in the world.
If Shoto feels half of what Izuku does for him... it had to have been torture of the worst kind, and Izuku cries harder.
Shoto's hands are in his hair, and a teary, wet smile starts to climb across his face. The curtains finally close and dim the entire area, but Shoto doesn't seem to notice and Izuku hardly does either as he reaches up to wipe furiously at his face. Shoto's fingers tighten in his green curls, and Izuku has to reach forward to grip his shirt in order steady himself.
He's shaking. Shoto is too, tremors racing through his body.
Izuku feels like he's in a daze. In a dream, the way Shoto sits before him like this. It was all real. It was all real, and Shoto stares at him with the same disbelief that rushes potent through Izuku's own veins.
Izuku might've never come to this if Kacchan hadn't made him. He may've never known. He could've spent his life avoiding Shoto, avoiding Duality, out of some misplaced sense of fear and despair. It just... it seems so impossible. Shoto, loving him. In his dreams and here.
But he does, and Izuku would never doubt the gravity of his feelings. This is not what he'd expected in coming here. He'd thought he'd leave holding the broken pieces of his heart in his hands. He thought he'd accidentally meet Shoto's eyes and see nothing of what he knew there.
How stupid he'd been this whole time.
"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Izuku cries. "I-I didn't-- I didn't know. If I'd known, y-you know I--"
Shoto kisses him again, pulling him flush. They cancel the panel.
They stay hugging one another and crying for so long that Kacchan actually calms down. Shoto mutters sweet nothings in his ear the whole time, choking them out between his own tears. His other former classmates stick around, maybe out of a sense of curiosity, or perhaps out of concern.
Duality is a level headed hero. He presents a cool, unshakable front. Him crying is unheard of. Him tackling some hero nerd that looks like he just spent the entire day buying cringey hero merch (which wasn't... not true...) didn't fit into the mold he'd created for himself.
But it fit into the one Izuku knew. And that was far, far better in his opinion.
All is silent by the time Shoto finally pulls away from him enough to look at him again. Kacchan twitches, but Red Riot's hand on his shoulder keeps him still. He scowls instead, arms crossed so tightly across his chest that it looks painful. He's very clearly hardly containing himself.
His eyes promise murder and demand an explanation, drilling into the side of Izuku's head. Izuku's too busy sniffling and trying to pat down his hair to do anything. Because... holy shit.
His whole life just changed. Shoto's real. The love of his life is real. Shoto Todoroki has actually, truly been sharing dreams with Izuku this whole entire time and only now is he finding out. On a whim. Because of Kacchan, of all people.
Quite suddenly, Izuku wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Because what... what the fuck?
Sharing dreams? All these experiences had been real? They've gone to the highest peaks. Had gone to other planets, other universes. Had seen cities of gold and silver, had visited caves full of crystals of every shape and size and hue. They'd seen constructs so intricate humans could never hope to create them, had seen feats of nature too gorgeous to exist on their Earth.
And they'd done it together. Izuku had gotten to truly know this person and to love them, and none of it had been the illusion he thought it was. Shoto was right here, holding him, and the rest of his life doesn't seem like such a pipedream anymore.
He's overwhelmed. Guilty that he somehow didn't see it sooner. So happy he just wants to cry some more and never let Shoto out of his sight again. Holy shit. Holy actual shit. Izuku-- all of it--
"Oh my god." Izuku says dazedly, sitting there and blinking slow as Shoto holds his hands in his, gazing at him with that shellshocked look of love he hasn't lost since Izuku got here. "I... it was all real. All of that was real, and I know you, and we're--"
"Marry me." Shoto interrupts, looking at him with sappy intensity. There's the same certainty in his tone from their dreams, and that seems to solidify it all. "Marry me. Right now."
Kacchan's explosions drown out Izuku's yes, but Shoto knows without having to hear.