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Hitoshi is pretty used to people talking behind his back.
They're always too scared to say it to his face, and it's not like he really ever bothers with goading them into trying. He doesn't see the point of wasting his efforts on people that are just going to only ever see his Quirk before they see him.
It's not like he ignores them, though. He listens, in some kind of morbid curiosity which has only ever served to depress him. He listens and learns all the different kinds of ways people can talk about him without ever talking to him.
So he knows what it's like when someone is talking like that about him. He's used to it. It's no surprise that it happens when he first joins U.A. — he's a General student resolved on getting into the Hero course, and everyone knows it. Not like he keeps it quiet or anything, though.
But the difference is that, surprisingly, people actually do talk to him. It's strange at first, and he's immediately suspicious of anyone that does it, but slowly, he starts to understand that the other General students are actually genuine in their support of his goal.
When he finally gets into the Hero course, confirmed for the next year, their support never wavers. When they talk about Hitoshi, he starts to realise they're doing it out of pride and excitement for him.
And then there's Aizawa, who supports him and talks to him directly and never, ever behind his back. Not like so many of his old teachers used to do. No one has ever quite made an effort with him like Aizawa has.
And then, after the war and the battle with Shigaraki, Hitoshi's presence in 2-A is met with excitement, as everyone apparently is just happy to have something a little more normal to look forward to in their school lives.
Maybe he gets used to the idea of people actually talking to him, and not so much about him. Not, at least, with that same kind of fear and apprehension that always seemed to soak their words back in Junior high whenever they whispered to each other.
He never forgets what it feels like to have people talk about him, though, even as U.A. shows him just how different it can be. But just as he’s been hoping it’ll truly be better, that he’ll never really experience it on these school grounds, he’s harshly brought crashing back down to Earth.
When he catches Izuku and his closest friends whispering about him, it stings a lot more than it ever has before. Maybe he's gotten too used to people actually being kind and friendly and supportive here. Maybe he had his hopes too high — maybe, in the back of his mind, he thinks that he expected too much of Izuku.
Something had to give, he supposes, stomach souring as he watches Izuku frantically try and hush Shouto and Ochako at their lunch table. He only turned bright red and flustered the moment he saw Hitoshi walking over, slapping Ochako on the thigh to get her to stop in her sentence, and Hitoshi hates just how badly it all hurts.
They'd obviously been talking about him. It’s clear that whatever it had been about, Izuku doesn't want him to overhear.
Yeah, it turns out that Hitoshi hasn't forgotten this feeling at all.
"Cool," he breathes to himself. "Great. Fucking great."
He's used to being talked about, but he's not used to the sudden rise of anger and disappointment that turns his stomach and clench tightly around his heart. He's never reacted like this before, and he kind of hates that he's starting to now.
He pivots on his heels, deciding he can just find somewhere else to sit, ignoring Izuku's confused expression that he sees at the last second before he turns. He's been sitting at the same table with Izuku and everyone — at Izuku's goddamn insistence, no less — for the last few weeks, and now he's almost not too sure where to go if it's not there.
His thoughts are racing, his fingers clenching his tray so tightly that it might just start to shake soon.
Has it all just been some kind of twisted joke? Izuku just insisting he comes to sit with them, all those lunches together where he was mindful of Hitoshi's preference for the quiet? All those lunches laughing together, trading jokes, making new, private ones just in their group? Was it all just to find things to stab him in the back with?
God, he's an idiot. Of course, he's the easy target — everyone adores Izuku. Hitoshi is the outsider, a year late to the class. No one is going to take his side, much less believe him if he says anything against Izuku.
Thinking of Izuku doing something like that makes him nauseous because he can’t believe it, he doesn’t want to believe it. But he knows what it’s like for people to talk behind his back, to say cruel and heartless things between each other about him, and he knows the way kids always tried to act like they were hiding it, slapping each other with embarrassed red faces when they realised he overheard.
The thought of it hurts so fucking badly, and he hates just how much it's all affecting him.
He tries to focus on finding somewhere else to sit, but it turns out the problem with everyone being friends with Izuku is the fact they all sit relatively close. Even Neito, after the war, has gotten over his whole "down with 1-A" agenda. Hitoshi had been relieved at first, but now he kind of wishes Neito clung onto it a little bit harder.
Most of the people he knows are sitting close to Izuku, and the closer Hitoshi is to them the closer they, in turn, are to Izuku's table. So he's left to just put his tray down on a table with some of the students from 2-B. At least it's a seat that makes him face away from Izuku, so he doesn't need to look at him trying to act all confused and innocent.
"Ask what I'm doing here and I'll have you run laps around the cafeteria. Got that?" He challenges, putting his tray down on the table. They give him a mixture of confused and concerned looks, but everyone nods and agrees to just let it be.
He knows he’s being prickly, that he doesn’t need to justify why he’s here when he’s friends with these people, but he’s irritated and angry and embarrassed about catching Izuku out.
Annoyed, he thinks —unfairly, he knows— that they’ll probably still talk about it once lunch is over.
Whatever, he supposes, he may as well get used to it again.
He's not really the most approachable during lunch, though the people around him try and encourage him into some conversation. But his thoughts won't stop whirling around the sight of Izuku shushing his friends, hurriedly trying to stop them from saying something aloud, his eyes locking with Hitoshi's in a clear — but somewhat sheepish — panic.
He stabs at his food rather forcefully, chewing it moodily. Whatever, he tells himself again. Whatever.
He can ignore Izuku as long as the lunch period lets him, but there's unfortunately no escape in their last periods of the day, which are all focused on Heroics.
The class is big, he reassures himself. There are plenty of people to put between you and him.
And god, does Hitoshi try. But even if he had a thousand people between himself and Izuku, he has a feeling this would have happened — Izuku standing next to him, looking at him with wide, concerned eyes.
He breathes out a long, steady breath. Not like he has anywhere he can truly go — they're currently watching a battle between Ochako, Tenya, Denki, and Jirou, waiting for their turn. Hitoshi had been glad he hadn't been put in the same group as Izuku, but he should have known that wouldn't have really helped anything.
Let him think whatever he wants, he tells himself, steeling himself for the conversation that Izuku is apparently so determined to have. Let him believe whatever he wants. You know why you're here, and that's all that matters. No one else's thoughts matter.
Izuku looks like he's waiting for an acknowledgment, but Hitoshi doesn't give one. Izuku deflates, shoulders falling forward slightly, but he puffs right back up within a second with clenched fists.
"Um, not that you— have to sit with us everything lunch, or anything like that! But, um, you looked kind of... Um. I guess I just wanted to ask if everything is okay?" Izuku rambles nervously.
So you're going to play it like that, huh? He thinks sourly. It's wrong, not quite sitting right with him to think of Izuku in this way, but he doesn't know what other reason Izuku would have to hush the conversation around that table in such a way.
He was panicking, clearly flustered, like he would do anything to stop Hitoshi from overhearing the conversation they were having.
And he'd caught Hitoshi's eyes, knowing he'd been caught, and he'd — what, tried to smile? Tried to play it off? Act like everything was just goddamn fine? Even though it was so clear that he was panicking?
Hitoshi never used to care this much. He never, ever engaged with anyone involved in gossiping about him.
But now his mouth opens, and he can't quite stop himself.
"Just what the hell is your problem, huh?" Hitoshi asks, basically spitting the question — one he's been burning to ask everyone around him for goddamn years. Just what is their problem with Hitoshi? Why won't they ever goddamn leave him alone?
Izuku's mouth opens, but no sound escapes. He takes a step back.
Despite Hitoshi's anger, there's a small lapse of shame as he sees the way Izuku creates some space between them.
Always the bad guy, aren't I?
"What? Shinsou, what?" Izuku asks, that split-second moment passing entirely and leaving nothing but confusion on Izuku's face. "What— what do you think is my problem?"
"You were talking about me at lunch," Hitoshi replies, eyes narrowing. Surely Izuku isn't going to play the ignorance card with him right now. "Because you told Uraraka and Todoroki to quieten down. So what's your problem with me?"
Maybe he should have waited until they were in private. Maybe he could have gotten a confession about it all, a peace of mind, even if no one else believes in it. Of course, Izuku isn’t going to admit it out here, not with so many people around them.
"My— my problem with you?" Izuku splutters. His cheeks are going red again. Caught out.
He spots Shouto's head inclining in their direction, over listening to the conversation as well now that his name has been mentioned, but thankfully he doesn't step in.
"Yes. What the hell is it?" Hitoshi questions, feeling an awful rise of vindication as he sees the way Izuku is left on the back foot with the confrontation.
Izuku's eyes widen — not in surprise now, but in understanding. In some type of realisation. He slaps a hand over his mouth, dragging it down until he frees his mouth again to speak.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, it would have looked like we were talking badly about you, right? I'm so sorry, I didn't even think about that," Izuku rushes out to say, words almost lost in one big jumble as they're so close to each other.
Hitoshi stares, stunned for a moment, parsing through the words slowly before he continues to glare in suspicion. "If it wasn't bad, then what the hell is up with your reaction?"
Izuku groans, letting his head tilt back until he's staring up at the ceiling like he's going to find some kind of help written up there for him.
"I— just— is there any way you will take my word for it that it wasn't something bad? At least, I— uh, don't think so?" Izuku stammers through, his cheeks and ears getting even more red.
"What the hell do you mean you don't think so?" Hitoshi harshly questions, confusion making his edges even sharper. He doesn’t like feeling like he’s lost control of this conversation when he’s the one meant to be questioning and getting answers.
Izuku groans again. "This really isn't like… how I meant to tell you. Or ever tell you, actually. I didn't plan on saying it, but I guess— there's no way you'll believe me, right? Because I know what it looks like to have people talking about you, and— oh, it really would have looked like that. God. Okay."
Hitoshi stares at him. He's once again trying to parse through Izuku's words, trying to figure them out, but he doesn't quite get there in the end before Izuku speaks up again. He’s quickly losing his edges now, feeling like his anger is misplaced, and he can’t quite hold onto it as he watches Izuku stumble through his words.
"Okay, I don't— oh, god, okay, maybe it is bad, actually. Will you believe me if I tell you it is bad? Actually, wait, yes, that's why I'm talking right now," Izuku stammers out, and then slaps his hand back over his mouth.
The situation, Hitoshi dryly thinks, is spiralling. He's thinking sarcastically because his emotions are probably — shutting down, or something. Fuck. He has no idea what's going on right now.
"Just tell me what it is, Midoriya," Hitoshi manages to say, voice steadier than he feels.
Izuku groans for a third time. "Oh, man. Oh, man. Okay! Okay! I can do that. I can definitely... definitely... do that."
Izuku looks like he's a balloon that's slowly being squeezed, the air escaping through a pin-prick thin hole as it deflates.
"Midoriya?"
Izuku sucks in a breath. "Okay! Okay. I, um. I had to get them to stop talking because they were, um. They were kind of talking about how much I kind of like you, and they were teasing me— like, nicely!— for having a crush. On you. So. Yeah! Yeah. Okay. I'm going to go."
Alright. Alright. Hitoshi has absolutely no idea what's going on right now. Not the slightest clue.
Izuku makes a noise that's something like a squeak, and he attempts the same move that Hitoshi used in the cafeteria — pivoting on his heels, trying to turn and walk away like he isn't being watched intently.
"Midoriya."
Izuku's reply is something like an “eep”, but it's enough. Hitoshi drags him under his Quirk's influence, at least knowing that Izuku has never minded being under control.
Aizawa's stopped watching the battle in front of him for a moment, head turning around to watch the exchange between them, apparently having decided this might be something that needs his attention, but Hitoshi waves him off.
He's totally, absolutely, got this. Or at least, he's got this enough that he doesn't need Aizawa interfering with the most tragic confession of all time.
Aizawa narrows his eyes, looking between both of them, before his expression shifts into some kind of dry bemusement as he turns and focuses back on the battle. With that, Hitoshi focuses back on Izuku.
"Just... turn around. Walk back to me," Hitoshi commands.
Izuku can escape from his control if he really wants to. If the vestiges want to help him do so, at least — maybe they're just letting Izuku deal with this one on his own, because he doesn't feel any resistance.
"Repeat what you just said to me. Slowly." As soon as he says it, he regrets it, because he knows it’s probably a little bit mean to make Izuku go through that entire reveal again when he very likely does not want to. He goes to take it back, only to realise Izuku's halfway through a very drawn-out eep. He can't help but laugh, the entire situation feeling so entirely and utterly strange. He's not even sure this is all real. "Sorry, I— Okay. Please just don't try and walk away when I release you, alright? Or else I'm going to keep doing this. And you have a match in about two minutes, so. Let's not do that."
He releases his Quirk. Izuku goes pale, but at least he listens, as he doesn't walk away.
"Sorry?" Izuku offers sheepishly after a couple of moments of silence between them, but it's clear he's embarrassed.
And— if Hitoshi looks closely enough, he can spot the shame there too.
Absolutely not.
"Okay," Hitoshi breathes out. "Not like, okay that you're sorry, because that's not okay. I know what you're trying to apologise for, but there's no reason for you to be. So... let's start with that."
Izuku nods.
Hitoshi sighs. "And then let's—"
Aizawa cuts them off. "Next group, start getting ready!"
Izuku doesn't even look like he's heard him. Aizawa's eyes linger on them for a second before focusing back on the battle that's finishing up.
Hitoshi winces. "Okay. I really wasn't ready for, um, all that. I'm sorry I thought the worst of you immediately. That's, um, really shitty of me. Sorry. I have things I need to work through. Obviously."
"It's okay," Izuku whispers. "I get it."
Well, that feels like a punch to the gut. He needs to fix this. He really needs to fix this.
"I— ugh. I never considered this could happen, so—" Hitoshi is now the one stammering through his words, trying to get them out, trying to mend the situation.
"Midoriya," Aizawa's voice drawls out in warning.
Hitoshi kind of loves Aizawa, but not at this very moment. He's never wanted to tell his teacher to shut up more than right now, actually.
When Hitoshi tries to speak again, tries to finish what he’s saying to Izuku, he finds that he's lost his momentum. He's lost the courage to say it, and he feels like a complete and total coward.
"Just— go kick some ass," Hitoshi says, struggling to get out anything.
Izuku still looks embarrassed.
Fix this, he begs himself, because it feels like the situation is kind of crumbling between his fingers right now. This is his fault, and he's just made Izuku confess — confess to him! — because he immediately just assumed all the worst things, forgetting what kind of person Izuku actually is, too tied up in his own insecurities from the past.
"When you come back, let's— let's talk, okay?" He rushes out to say.
Izuku nods, but he looks even more beaten down now. He turns, walking over to his group that is about to take to the ring. Bakugou is snarling at him, likely pissed off that he's probably not going to get a good match now that Hitoshi has apparently just totally screwed up his very own friend.
(More, more, could be more than just a friend—)
"Izuku!" He calls out, a little too loudly, and god it's so embarrassing, and people are going to talk about this, talk about him—
Izuku, thankfully, turns around.
"I like you too!" Hitoshi says, still all too loudly despite the way he knows this is going to echo as gossip in the halls probably for months to come.
Fine. Whatever. Let them.
It's worth it for the way that Izuku smiles, bright and beaming.