Chapter Text
It’s been a long time since Izuku’s had a day off.
That realization is painfully true as soon as he enters his dark apartment. Work bag on one shoulder and Mighty’s carrier over the other forces him to hunch under the weight.
He awkwardly clears his throat as if he doesn’t know how to act within, what is technically, his own home.
He feels…
Strangely out of place.
His eyes bounce around the darkness like he’s waiting for something unusual to pop out at him. There’s an unsettling feeling in his chest like the universe came to a screeching halt and looked him dead in the face.
‘Why in the world are you home?’
Home...
But is this a home?
He’s never even here.
Izuku had moved into this place three years ago, in an act of confidence and defiance. Stomping his foot down and puffing out his cheeks, he scratched his signature on a new lease.
He thought moving would help reset his chakra, so he turned it off, got a shiny new environment, and turned it back on.
But even now, the apartment still feels brand new. The pathways are foreign, the cabinets are disorganized, and everything is out of place.
No matter how many times he can rearrange a studio-sized bunker, it is never right. He can't find the medium to satisfy the ominous distress thumping in his skull.
It sets him on edge constantly, like he’s looking over his shoulder for an unseen enemy. Something cold that leaves goosebumps down his arms and doubts in his mind.
Which only served to his demise.
He had been excited about his relocation at first. Although the process was stressful, he felt ready.
It was a closer commute to U.A. than before. He was giddy to believe that it would solve some of his late-night stays (because that’s going swell).
But he was hopeful.
Empty shelving that he couldn’t wait to put his comics and figurines on. The bare cabinets where he could throw the pots and pans he hardly knew how to use.
Massive open wall space that held so much potential for his dorky posters and childhood photos of his mom. Pantries that he’d get to fill with his horrendously unhealthy snack choices.
Izuku was proud of himself with all the new prospects. After fighting himself for so long, he begged that he had made the right choice.
It felt good.
It had been a while since he tried to push himself forward in life. For so long, he had allowed himself to fall into a robotic creature of habit that dulled his cognizance, suffocating his sense of self.
It seemed safer, simply continuing to exist the only way he knew how. Locking away any thought of potential change, throwing him into a debilitating and unfulfilling routine.
When Izuku finally regained himself, he suddenly became terrified of the cycle of ‘normality’ he was stuck in.
So he decided to do it.
He forced courage into his mind to slam the door to the haunting townhouse he had gotten so wrapped up in for four years. A space that held so many vivid memories and gut-wrenching emotions soaked into all its walls.
Leaving behind a house built for two that used to thrive off of love.
It had been loud and it had been lively.
The laughter that used to echo in the kitchen over burnt meals, thumping music that would rattle the pictures in the living room every weekend.
And even the quiet conversations on the balcony over steaming cups of tea, that were carried away by the wind.
There were two bedrooms, but they only needed one. So Izuku jumped at the idea of having a home office. Where he would happily spend countless hours so deeply immersed in his work that nothing could break his train of thought.
Nothing…
Except for him.
When he would finally come home, all it took was a gentle whisper of ‘I’m back, baby,’ breathed against his ear. The soft kisses that would trail down his neck, sent him into a giggling mess.
That was home.
It was the first place Izuku had felt safe.
Safe enough to share himself fully with no real expectations. Feeling that he could finally express love, unsure it was going to be appreciated anywhere else.
He had words to say, muttered to anyone who would listen. Touches that agonized to be sedated and reciprocated.
Izuku had been over the moon with luck when he found something that checked all the right boxes. Something that came so naturally it was hard not to follow.
It gave him an unfamiliar sense of peace. Having never experienced such a profound connection, he let it wash away his anxieties.
He started seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. Unconsciously choosing to be blindsided by the things that loomed demonically overhead.
He had lost himself so much in the quaint lifestyle, cozy in the domesticity and happy in avoidance. That when the vicious claws of reality snaked down his throat, it ripped him apart from the inside.
It had all happened so fast.
He opened his eyes that morning and could easily smile just like it was any other day. They continued like always, nothing was amiss.
But then…
Everything was so loud, a constant high-pitched ringing in his ears. Vision searing from nauseating strobe lights.
It became cold, and so, so fucking painful.
And after that…
The love was gone
Burned.
Dead.
It left him with sunken eyes, traumatizing dreams, and eerily silent.
He tried to continue living like his world hadn’t been demolished right in front of him. But the events altered Izuku to the point that he didn’t know how to anymore.
It left him lost and confused, like wandering in circles in the heart of a dark forest.
There was an itch in his mind taunting and laughing at him. Dangling his happiness so close, but so far away from him.
He was too tired to start over, accepting to drown in wretchedness.
So he stayed in the house that used to hold two.
But there were no more laughs, no more music, and no more quiet conversations. No more teasing whispers in his ear to pull him out of his work.
His speech was cut short, ripped from his soul, and created a new terror. The petrifying silence followed him everywhere as a constant reminder of his failures.
Now he’s paying the price.
A loud angry yowl slams Izuku back to the present. Mighty shifts dramatically in his kennel with a low-growling protest to be let out.
The tired boy quickly resumes his shuffle through the shadowy living room. He almost collapses under the weight of his bags as he sets them down.
He sends the large Birman a weak smile as the animal worms his way out of the prison. Directing his bright blue eyes to his owner with a look that says, ‘Took you long enough. Dish, now.’
Izuku can’t help but stick his tongue out at his companion, knowing that arguing would be useless considering that Mighty can speak more than he can. And he is not in the mood to handle that kind of feisty attitude right now.
Izuku stumbles the entire way to the pantry, the gremlin weaving between his legs with excited chitters. Huffing when he narrowly avoids crushing him several times.
He takes out a can of wet food – Mighty deserves some extra attention – and a cup of instant noodles for himself.
Only twenty minutes later he’s sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of a pathetic dinner and flipping through TV channels looking for something to occupy his mind.
He’s briefly pleased when he finds old All Might movie reruns, figuring it would be playing somewhere.
The iconic theme song cuts through the silence of his small apartment, making his nose scrunch as he turns it down. He doesn’t even remember the last time he used his television, let alone needing it to be that loud.
‘You literally have deaf and hard of hearing friends, you fuck,’ his brain so politely pipes up.
He sluggishly falls into the couch cushions and stirs his noodles. It only takes a few seconds before Mighty joins him and secures immediate real estate in his lap.
Izuku’s dinner is bleak, the movie is too familiar and the silence is monstrous and dark. The flickering of bright scenes is the only illumination in the room.
He’s left in a dissociative state, staring unblinkingly at the television as he processes none of his surroundings. His hands are limp at his sides, the muscles aching and throbbing from overuse.
His scarred hands are about five seconds and six words behind his brain at all times. He’s never been good at properly conveying his fast-paced thoughts at legible speed.
But he knows better than to force them to communicate at such a high volume. He should be using his text-to-speech more to give his hands a break, but god he fucking hates that thing.
Maybe he should shower.
The warm water would help his hands, and feeling clean before going to bed is always nice. And when’s the last time he’s done a deep clean shower?
He suddenly feels grimy all over. Probably going to need an hour-long deep soak and a scouring pad for this one.
But that would mean getting up.
He’s not sure if he wants to do that yet.
So, Izuku melts further into the couch, concentrating on Mighty’s deep purrs vibrating his thighs. Vaguely aware of the movie credits rolling in the background.
Izuku doesn’t fully take in his actions until he’s sitting in a rickety seat and prepared for an hour-and-a-half-long train ride.
He hardly slept last night, the anxieties of his days and the uncertainty of his future gnawing away at his consciousness. He paced the living room for hours, the scenes of yesterday playing on a loop in his head.
Every word, every email, and every tear until he started ripping out his hair.
He wasn’t going to make it if he stayed cooped up in here.
As dawn started peeking through the windows, Izuku quietly collected his things. His wallet, keys, Mighty, and work bag - much to his dismay, but he felt like he was going to need it.
Seems no matter where he goes, he hauls around the same baggage.
He didn’t need to check the train schedule to know when and where to be. This trip is the only one he can seem to get right.
Izuku’s usually intently focused and analytical eyes could only stare blankly across the horizon. Subconsciously rocking back and forth as he waited.
The train is never late, he knows this personally (duh), so he’s fully prepared for the sound of the loud screeching brakes. His head lazily tracks the chugging movements as the cars slow to a stop.
He hardly processes the routine of finding his seat and getting comfortable. Mighty in his lap, work bag in the chair next to him.
There’s a ping in the back of his mind that he hasn’t told anyone where he’s going.
He feels obligated to tell his team that he isn’t going to be local today. At the same time, there’s teasing relief of them not being able to find him. Not allowing anyone to rope him into the office, though they probably wouldn’t try.
Izuku can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad one.
But what if something happens and they need him?
What if—
He fishes his phone out of his pocket, letting his anxiety win. Hastily scrolling through a plethora of notifications – text messages, emails, an app that reminds him to drink water.
He’s only partially shocked to see an unopened message from Yaoyorozu.
Her words hit him in the gut.
‘Stop stressing. We can handle the day without you. Please get some rest.’
Izuku isn’t sure if he should be thankful or totally mortified at the fact that his boss knows him so well. Knowing she has to be blunt to get it through his fucking head that he’s off for the day and that he doesn’t need to be around.
For now, he decides to be grateful.
Before he can think of a reply, the train sludges to a stop, and the incompletion of the task immediately leaves his mind.
Everything else can wait.
He puts his device away and piles his bags back on. He huddles close to the doors, bouncing on his toes, not wanting to be in the public eye any longer.
Izuku’s the first one off, taking a speedy pace and ducking through stiff crowds. Keeping his belongings held tight and not paying attention to anything but his destination.
The rushed ten-minute walk blurs in his brain. Only for the fog to finally lift when he’s standing in front of a familiar apartment door.
Izuku feels underprepared now.
But still, he knocks.
An indistinct shout calls in response, followed by a few thumps and the click of a lock as the door swings open.
Standing in front of Izuku is his adorably small mom.
“Izuku!” she gushes, grabbing his cheeks to pull him down to her height and scanning over his features, “You didn’t tell me you were coming over!”
Her voice is bright and full of excitement, the immediate acceptance making the boy want to melt. A sense of belonging warms his body. Her eyes are shimmering with tears that are paired with a wobbly smile.
But she pauses, brows creasing and head tilting. Her hold on his cheeks grows more intent as her expression softens.
“What’s wrong baby?”
At this moment, Izuku realizes how much he’s missed his mom.
It’s no secret that he’s a mama’s boy, he stands on that hill proudly and will until the day he stops breathing. His mother did absolutely everything she could for him, for them , growing up.
And he’s not naïve to that.
He saw the times she skipped meals to afford his school tuition. The hand-sewn stitches in his uniform when they couldn’t afford a new one.
He saw the times she had to count pennies to get necessities from the grocery store. How empty the fridge and pantries always were.
The dark circles under her eyes getting worse from picking up as many shifts as she could while still being present for Izuku. The absolute exhaustion that hung on her body that came with being a single mom.
But he also saw how much love she put into everything.
How much she loved him.
How she never missed a day in making him meals, even if she had to prepare some ahead of time for him. The way she would never say no to playing ‘heroes,’ no matter how late she worked. The few times she got to take him to an All Might movie premiere.
Even the nights she would hold him as he cried himself to sleep after a day at school. She would wrap him up in their favorite blanket, curling him into her lap until he wept himself unconscious. And when he would wake up the next morning, she was still there, having taken them both to her bed.
No matter the stress she was under, Izuku was always her priority. Going as far as putting his needs before hers.
He might not have had everything, but he had her.
She’s all he’s ever had.
She was there for him in every milestone.
When he lost his first tooth, when he finally figured out how to ride a bike, the first time he successfully cooked without setting something on fire, even the first time he dropped a curse word.
That one was rough.
But she was always there, always a constant.
She was there when too many words were burning into his wrists. She caught him when the world beneath his feet fell and stole every piece of his being.
Izuku feels silly for not visiting her more, she’s only a train ride away.
But he’s too stubborn.
Too stubborn to admit that he’s still falling apart, that he hasn’t been able to put himself back together yet. No matter which way he turns, the world finds a way to set him six feet back.
He’s always managed to brush it off, telling her that he’s got everything under control and she has nothing to worry about. Because that’s the last thing he wants to do, is continue to add to her plate like he’s done all his life.
But he’s so lost .
He thought he was stabilizing, thought he was finally getting back on the right track. Forcing himself to come up for air after drowning for so long. Trying to analyze the best next step to take instead of just passing his time in life.
He thought he got a handle on the cards he’d been dealt, organizing them to see the possibilities. He was using his limitations to fight for something he believed in.
But he’s failing .
He’s letting everyone down.
And he doesn’t know what to do.
He needs her.
“Izuku?” his mother pulls him closer picking up on his internal battle, staring into his eyes.
He can’t hold it in any longer.
Tears stream down his face at a pace he can’t control and sobs bubble in the back of his throat. His knees quiver and he begins to sag under the weight of all his bags, feet slipping as he teeters.
“Okay okay,” she startles at his instinctive response and pulls him inside as Mighty lets out a hefty yowl, “Yes we hear you big boy.”
The short woman hastily helps him remove his travel gear, hanging his belongings on a hook and letting the cat out of his carrier.
As soon as Izuku is relieved of the pressured baggage, he collapses in the entryway and lets himself fall victim to his torment.
He lets his chest constrict until he can’t breathe anymore and his hands curl around his neck and yank at his collar. He lets his mind be driven by the insanity of the last few days, his thoughts run until they’re screaming violently in his head.
The sobs that echo through the apartment are heart-wrench and gut-churning. Inko can do nothing but desperately hold her son as his emotions dismantle him.
Her own eyes water at the distraught state of her only son. The only thing she can offer is comforting whispers in his ear that he probably isn’t even retaining.
She pets through his curls, noting how tangled they are. She rubs his back, immediately seeing the weight he’s lost since the last time she saw him. She rocks him back and forth, only to be reminded of his difficult years in school.
The world has been so cruel to him and she can’t do anything to fix it.
The only thing she wants for her boy is to be happy, and that’s something she can’t do for him.
Izuku begins wiggling around in his mother’s hold, enough for her to sit back and look at him expectantly. Assuming that he needs his hands to communicate with her.
She’s taken off guard when he frantically starts tearing his compression gloves and extra bracelets off that are covering his soul marks.
That has always been a difficult topic for the two Midoriyas. Of course, she’s always going to support her son, but his marks are a scandalous existence.
On top of the fact that she fears the worst for her mute child.
She waits patiently as her boy gets off the offending coverage. When he does, all he can do is stick his arms out pleadingly. Exposing words she hadn’t seen in years.
Izuku can do nothing but let sobs topple out of his mouth, reasonlessly hoping that his mother will understand him. Because this is the one thing he can’t talk to anyone else about.
He’s met his soulmates.
He’s met them and they’re both so perfect. And not just in their beauty, but in the way they treat him.
They’re so gentle, muttering words in his ear only meant for him. Their hands caress and soothe his body like he’s a delicate piece of art. They’re attentive and recognize when the interpreter has a hard time communicating. But they wait patiently for his hands to formulate his thoughts and truly want to know his thoughts.
And he can’t do anything about it because they’re already together. He can’t shove his way into being a third, not when it’s so scrutinized.
He can’t because their opposing wrists are blank . Barren of his connection to him.
He’s left on the sidelines as the boys that were made for him build a life on their own. A successful and happy one at that. They’ve been growing a relationship for years while the world continues to slam doors in his face.
All the while, neither of them realizes that Izuku longs to do it with them.
He longs for their touches, their whispers, and their attention.
He longs to be able to love them.
He shakes his arms at his mother for emphasis, watching her face closely. Her green eyes trail up and lock with his as her expression drops, and Izuku’s demeanor crumbles.
The woman rushes forward, pulling her boy back into her arms as he fists her shirt.
“Okay baby,” she runs a hand through his curls, placing a kiss within the nest, “Let’s get you to the couch.”
She pulls him up, practically dragging his heavy weight to the living room. He stumbles over his feet, tears clouding his vision too much as he tries to remember the layout of the space. The deep emotional reaction is already taking a toll on the little energy he has.
He feels himself sinking into the soft cushions of the couch and falls into the haziness of his mind.
Inko is quick, shuffling around the apartment and grabbing every possible comfort item. Their favorite blanket that she drapes over his shoulders. The All Might plushie Izuku claims he isn’t attached to anymore, gets settled into his lap as she flicks on the television for background noise.
He’s nearly incoherent at this point, hardly understanding the environment around him but latches on to the sweet smell of home. He knows his mother is going to take care of him, and that’s exactly what he needs right now.
He wants to power down the rudders of his brain and just stop for a moment.
He pulls the blanket further around him, crushes the plushie into his chest, and tries to curl into nonexistence.
The short woman stands quietly in the doorway, her chest throbbing at the sight of her little boy shattered into so many small pieces.
She doesn’t quite understand the circumstances without explanation, but she believes she knows the cause.
Izuku met his soulmates and it very clearly isn’t going well (and she feels that’s an understatement).
Inko knows her son like the back of her hand, she knows that he jumps wholeheartedly into a cause he believes in. She wouldn’t have her bright boy any other way, aside from the fact that he grinds himself down to the bone to do so.
He’s losing himself for the sake of others.
So, with a sigh, she turns into the kitchen, fully prepared to take on her motherly role for her only child.
It’s several hours later when Izuku comes to, the mist in his eyes lifting as he looks down at a half-empty cup of tea in his hand.
When did that happen?
“Baby?” his mother calls sweetly, walking into the room holding two steaming plates of katsudon with a gentle smile, “Think you can eat?”
His brain is seconds behind in processing her question, but he nods slowly. The teacup is swapped out of his hand before he can blink.
The warm food before him makes him deflate. A home-cooked meal from his mom, the best medicine. The aroma of his childhood comfort brings him back to his senses.
They sit in silence as they eat, Mighty sitting attentively next to him, eyes forced on his plate. Izuku hasn’t felt this at ease in weeks, not feeling the pressure of needing to communicate, needing to fill the silent air.
Having no expectations.
But he knows he’ll need to give a little bit of an explanation of why he showed up unannounced and just…cried.
Not that it’s unusual for him, but this one’s different. And he knows his mother knows that.
It takes Mighty pawing at his leg to realize that he’s finished his entire plate. Reaching over, he sets his empty platter on the coffee table, his cat immediately crawling into his lap with the lack of a barricade.
Izuku shifts himself to face his mother, who has also set her dinner down. Her eyes are soft and her face is vacant of judgment.
Tears quickly water his vision and his mouth quivers.
But he’s got to get this out.
So he tells his mom. And he tells her everything.
From the introduction of the campaign to the stress of Katsuma to literally running into his soulmates.
How he’s up to his neck in hot water defending the middle school boy. The chaotic fuckery that the school board is putting them both in an unfair situation and the fact that he doesn’t know how to fix it.
The hours he sacrifices, the several days Mighty has to spend at the center, and the abundant amount of times he’s fallen asleep at his desk.
He tells her of Bakugou and Kirishima (struggling in wanting to use their given names). How they make him feel heard, seen, and almost…special. But they have nothing of him, he’s the only one that carries them.
The absolute confusion he feels about what their current relationship is. It’s all just business, right?
But…strangely intimate.
Izuku doesn’t know how long it takes him to get it all out, but his hands ache having never put his gloves back on. However, his saint of a mother waits patiently as he struggles through his story.
Pausing every so often to wring out his fingers, the moments he has to take to get his breathing under control. And for several minutes he would fall silent, trying to get his brain back on track.
She waited.
So, when his mangled hands fall limply in his lap and his gaze shines in despair, she speaks.
“You’re doing everything you possibly can Izuku.” She places a hand on his restless knee, “But you have to remember that you aren’t the only one working toward Katsuma’s cause.”
The boy whimpers but she continues, “You mentioned Yaoyorozu and Ashido stepped in to help. Let them . They can’t help you if you don’t let them. Katsuma is just as important to them as he is to you, that’s the entire point of your community. Supporting one another. So why are you trying to win this by yourself?”
Izuku blue screens, sitting back and staring at the woman as he’d never thought of that before.
Inko smiles, thumb soothing back and forth over his leg, “You forget that I know them, but I’ve been walking this path with you since the beginning. I bet Yaoyorozu forced you to take the day off.”
His cheeks burn red, hating how much his mother knows about him. How much everyone seems to know about him.
She rolls her matching green eyes, “You always get tangled up in things you feel responsible for, but you hoard your work until you’re overwhelmed. You’re climbing the right mountain, but sometimes we need assistance getting over the rocks.”
She squeezes his knee because she’s not done, “Now, as for your boys—“ Izuku chokes, your boys?? “Fighting a soul pull is hard and harmful, sweetie. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a little receptive to their actions. It seems that they are the ones coming to you on their own accord, why not let them–don’t give me that look, let me finish.” Her hand reaches for his, “That doesn’t mean you need to tell or show them anything you’re not ready to, because it may be an intricate and imbalanced conversation. I know this is terrible timing, but you’re allowed to want to get to know them. They obviously want to get to know you.”
Izuku blushes a pout at her tease, “You know what I mean. But you never know, they might be just as conflicted as you are for feeling so drawn to you. And it doesn’t look like they’re fighting against it.” She cups his cheek with her other hand, “Why deny yourself the attention they want to give you, especially if it feels right? You can’t let that brain of yours try to think too far ahead, you have to focus on the moment, and what you can control in that moment.”
Izuku’s chest relaxes and his body slumps, “And at this moment, Yaoyorozu is taking care of things at the office. And you have two very pretty boys interested in you.”
He can’t help the giggle that comes out of him at his mother's words.
They are very pretty.
“The future is always going to be scary because you can’t control it and you can’t control others. But getting caught up in that thought is harmful, you’re going to run yourself ragged. You have to focus on what you do best and learn how to apply it to be the best.”
They fall into silence, both mulling over the swapped information.
“Why don’t you stay here for the night?” his mother stands, gathering their dishes, “Your room is clean and I can make you breakfast in the morning.”
Izuku gives a relieved and tired smile, nodding his head and loving his cat as his mom walks back into the kitchen.
He’ll always be a mama’s boy.