Work Text:
It's 11:47pm.
Midnight, if you're an overachiever.
It's midnight, because Izuku is an overachiever, and he's found himself in an empty bodega, buying instant ramen and rice crackers.
Why, someone might ask?
Because he's a fourth year computer science major, with final exams three days away, and his whole entire scholarship and livelihood riding on those final grades. Not that he isn't a good student, cause he is, it's just that this one particular professor is a butthead and has a fifteen page long final exam and only allowing one index card of notes to be used during it. Not only that, but the exam counts towards 75% of the final grade.
So, in otherwords, Izuku can't screw this up.
Anything lower than a B-, and he loses his scholarship and campus housing. His mom worked her entire life to get him through those doors, paying outrageous textbook costs and lab fees and whatever percentage of the tuition costs that the scholarship didn't cover. He knows it was a good chunk of change, based on his mom's wince when she got the finalized bill in the mail and opened it at the kitchen table.
But....she paid it, with a smile on her face too. Now his mom boasts and brags about how her brilliant only child got into one of the most prestigious science academies in the country.
Ultra Alliance Science and technology University, which only accepts the top 3% of applicants, which is only a couple hundred out of thousands per year.
Izuku had gotten in, and his mom made sure he stayed in and didn't have to work, even when she took back to back double shifts at the hospital.
So....long story short, Izuku is at the bodega to get cheap body fuel because nutrients and calories are a thing, and he has to pass this final exam. Not even pass, but pass with flying colors.
Those colors are starting to look a little muted, though.
"$15.17," the middle aged clerk says sharply from behind the counter.
"Sorry?" Izuku looks down at his single pack of rice crackers, cup of noodles, and can of lemon tea. "Um...it should be $5.17?"
"No, $15.17."
"These add up to be $4.77, with the 8% consumption tax, it's $5.17?"
The clerk's eyes drop down to his sweater. He obnoxiously shakes out the newspaper in his hands and looks over the rim of his glasses. "The prices displayed haven't been updated. Inflation." Is the only explanation he has to offer.
"Sorry, but the konbini two blocks away isn't charging that much. The grocery stores aren't even that expensive? These aren't even big name brand products?"
The clerk just shrugs. "You do not have to shop here. As you said, there are other places."
Izuku sighs through his nose, pinching the ridge of his nose. "I understand inflation and higher costs for imported products, but I just don't-" he tries to reason back.
"$15.17 is your total," the clerk cuts him off and turns the page of his newspaper.
Okay.
Clearly he's being messed with.
The clerk keeps sending him dirty looks. Aimed towards his chest, specifically. Izuku looks down and wonders if he's maybe wearing something offensive? Which is impossible, cause he's been wearing the same long sleeved t-shirt since noon. His light jacket has a few pins in it. The science club enamel pin, one from the local comic book store, and the lgbtq awareness pin he got from volunteering at the crisis center geared towards young adults last year-
"Are.....are you charging me more because I'm-" Izuku dares to begin to ask.
Before he can get out the last sentence, the bell above the bodega door chimes.
Izuku bites his lip and considers his choices. Try to reason with the clerk at midnight on a school night? Give up and walk the extra two blocks to the twenty-four hour konbini? His mom raised him to do what's right, and standing his ground sounds like the morally correct option, and he would like to give this guy a piece of his mind. But, finals are coming up and he could get into trouble? He could give up for now, then address the situation another time when it's not the middle of the night and-
"Hey."
Izuku turns his head, tilting it back because whoever just hay'ed his horses is tall.
"You done here?" The guy asks.
"Um...well, I was just-"
"Here," the guy tucks a baseball bat under his arm and reaches over to-
Oh, crap.
Oooooohhhh, crap.
This doesn't look good.
"Take your things and get on out of here, will ya'?" The very tall, very intimidating, man says, and grabs all three items off the counter and piles them into Izuku's arm.
"O-Oh, but I haven't paid yet?"
The guys shakes his head, which Izuku now realizes is attached to a handsome scowl with soft brows and high cheekbones. "No need."
"I....I don't think that's legal?"
"Meh, define legal."
"Are-" Izuku swallows nervously. "Is that rhetorical or?"
"It mostly certainly is not legal. You will pay what you owe and leave!" The clerk stands up from his stool behind the counter.
"How much did he say it was?" The blonde asks.
"Um, three times what it's supposed to be, but I can-" Izuku goes to reach for his wallet but the tall handsome guy stops him.
"Nah, it's on him. Trust me. Now...why don't you and your cute freckles walk on outta here, yeah?" The blonde says, so very casually that Izuku almost does.
"What....are you...going to do?"
"Fuck some shit up." He bounces the baseball bat on his shoulder.
"Excuse me?!" The clerk yells.
"Fuck lots of shit up, to be more specific." His leather jacket stretches to show off his...very nice muscles. Yeah, those are nice. Muscles are nice. "I'd ask for your name and number, but then the cops would find it on me if they got here before I finished up. If this asshole has already pressed the panic button under the counter, then I've only got about six minutes before cops flood the parking lot. So, you should probably leave."
"Um-" Izuku starts, but the guy's hand lays on the middle of his back and gently pushes him towards the door.
"Trust me, pretty boy. You don't wanna be here for this." He nudges him forward again, and Izuku.....just kinda goes.
Newton's law of physics. An object at rest remains at rest, unless acted on by external force. AKA, some hot, intimidating, courteous, nice muscle having blonde pushes him gently in one direction.
Yep, because science.
Once the door closes behind him, there's the ear twitching and head turning sound of glass being shattered. Izuku looks behind him to see the tall blonde swing the bat and bash it through the glass display cases for e-cigarettes and tobacco products. There's yelling and shouting, lots of swearing and threats of police interference.
Izuku starts to walk through the parking lot, but notices the motorcycle.
A gloss finish, with purple LED lights attached to the bottom, and bright orange all around. A Kawasaki of some kind, that looks detailed, personalized, and expensive.
It was left running. The loud engine vibrates the ground under Izuku's shoes.
He...can't leave this bike unattended to, can he? It's a nice bike, that someone with bad morals would totally steal if given the chance.
Izuku's hand tightens around the strap of his backpack. He looks around, and finds a small seating area beside a rusted newspaper and flyer stand.
So, he takes a seat and tells himself that he's just being a good(curious) samaritan.
His things get packed into his bag. He listens to the roar of the motorcycles engine and the sounds of chaos coming from the partially cracked open bodega door.
Hands laid over his thighs, Izuku tries to listen for sirens over the sounds around him.
There's another engine.
No, two other engines. Loud and revving down the street. Izuku almost has to cover his ears. A car drifts into the parking lot from the road. The kind of luxury sports car you only see in action movies. Painted bright red with white racing stripes. A truck pulls in behind it, but drives clean over the curb and slams on the brakes.
Izuku holds his breath as the doors fly open and people practically fall out. The sports car driver is a tall man with striking features and a half dyed ponytail. While the driver of the yellow truck is even taller, with long messy red hair tied back with a red bandana.
"I told him to wait for us!"
"Yeah, but since when has Kats ever waited on anyone ever?" A beautiful ebony skinned woman with pink curls shouts back.
One by one, they carry weapons.
The red head a set of brass knuckles with "BLOOD RIOT" engraved across the front. The pink haired woman a crowbar. A punk rock goth person with leather fingerless gloves carries no weapon, but yanks off their heavy gold chain and wraps it around their hand, laying tight over the knuckles. A yellow haired guy with a black lightning bolt dyed beside his bangs pulls a taser out of his pocket. There's another blonde, a girl with a twisted but sweet smile and spiked out space buns, literally skips to the bodega door with a knife handle poking out from her belt.
There are others with them, more people than what Izuku thought could fit into those vehicles, and each one dressed in dark clothes and carrying some form of offensive or defensive weapon.
This....looks serious.
"Fuck, there are cameras." A guy with wild light purple hair and violet eyes yanks a black hood over his head.
"Too late to back out now! The perverted thief is getting what's coming to him, whether I face jail time or not." A guy yells back, hair black and straight, cut into a sleek mullet. When he runs by Izuku, he can smell the faintest trail of vintage foreign cologne and a hint of weed.
Perverted.....thief?
Huh.
So....maybe it is serious, but not for...entirely wrong reasons.
Izuku tilts his head back, looking up at the building and seeing the security camera.
That's child's play, almost too easy.
It wouldn't take him but two minutes, tops. He learned to hijack video footage and live streams in middle school.
Izuku unzips his backpack and pulls out his laptop. "Mom always said to do the right thing, and this....doesn't feel wrong, so...." He boots up his computer and easily finds the applications needed. Just a quick virus, easy to make but harder to break. There's one firewall, a weak one, that only takes two attempts to break through. Izuku navigates the screen and types almost faster than his keyboard can handle. When the clear error message relays after attempting to pull up the camera footage, he knows it's done.
Honestly, it was far too easy.
And besides, if things aren't as they seem, and these guys really are out for bad blood with bad motives, then he can always discreetly delete the virus and restore the data once the cops get here.
There's more yelling and shouting, crashes and bangs. An entire cardboard display shelf for chips and snacks gets violently tossed out the bodega door. There's more yelling, but in a different language, and Izuku just swings his feet back and forth and waits it out.
He'll leave, after he finds out exactly what all this is about, because...of...reasons.
"AND YOU SAID WHAT, HUH? NO ONE HAS TO KNOW? SHE WAS FOURTEEN, YOU SICK FUCK. A CHILD." Someone yells loud enough for Izuku to hear clearly.
"AND NOW WE FIND OUT THAT YOU'RE TRIPLING THE COSTS OF GOODS FOR THE GAYS? THE QUEERS? YOU THINK WE DON'T ALREADY PUT UP WITH ENOUGH SHIT?" That angry yell in particular sounded like it was from the scary blonde himself. "IF WE EVER SEE YOUR FUCKASS FACE AGAIN, I WILL MAKE YOUR BLOODY TEETH INTO A NECKLACE, AND EVERY ITEM IN THIS SHIT HOLE STORE WILL BE DONATED TO THE LGBTQ TEEN HOMLESS SHELTER."
Ah, so...this seems like it was definitely warranted. Izuku hopes the fourteen year old is okay, and that the shop owner learned his lesson from this very educational seminar.
In the distance, sirens close in. At least two, maybe three cop cars. Izuku packs his laptop back into his bag and stands up.
When the bodega doors swing open again and half a dozen people rush out into the parking lot, a pink and black motorcycle revvs over the sidewalk and between gas pumps. The spikey blonde space buns girl skips up to the side of it and hops on, wrapping her arms around it's driver. The tall split-haired man yells something at the red head, before grabbing ahold of his leather jacket and yanking him forward to mash their lips together in a quick but harsh kiss.
Izuku blushes, cause he doesn't think he was supposed to see that.
"Come on!" The violet haired one yells from the back seat of the luxury sports car, and the punk rock person with dark purple hair dives into his lap, draped across the yellow haired guy too. The doors slam shut as people jump back into the vehicles. The pink bike waits at the end of the lot's entry for the others, it seems.
"OI!" The scary tall blonde makes a quick run to his bike. "I thought I told you to get out of here!"
Izuku shrugs and yells back, "I didn't want anyone to steal your bike!"
The blonde guy laughs, head flung back like a mad man. "You're a cute little shit, ya' know that?"
"First I'm hearing about it, actually!"
The sirens grow closer to the point of flashing lights in the distance.
"Well, ya' coming?" The blonde yells, and Izuku looks back at him to find his arm outstretched with a second helmet in his hand.
He blinks at him for half a second, then...well....he's moving. Izuku grabs the helmet and fits it over his head. The blonde revvs the engine, and puts it in reverse as soon as Izuku's arms are around his waist.
"Hold on!" The blonde yells as loud as he probably can over all the noise and the density of their helmets. Izuku squeezes his waist, and holds on for dear life.
Momma warned him about dangerous people, but not hot dangerous people who get vengeance on the account of raised prices, homophobia, and fourteen year old girls.
So it's fine....probably.
The red sports car's tires spin out on the pavement, then speeds out onto the road. The red truck stays behind it, close enough to tail. The pink bike leads the way at first, but falls back a bit as the blonde drives his bike ahead. His hand lifts, holding up a gesture of some kind, and the bike swings a left down a barely lit street. The others follow with screeching tires.
Izuku holds on, but can't help himself from turning his head this way and that as they jet by buildings and street lights. The driver of the pink bike holds her hand up, and the sports car behind them flashes it's lights, and so does the truck.
They play a game of follow the leader, with the motorcycles ahead. Izuku watches over his shoulder as the sports car drifts left at the upcoming intersection, and the bikes turn right at the next. The truck continues on straight, dropping gears to quiten the engine.
The girl with blonde space buns, now hidden by a soft pink helmet, waves at Izuku, then holds out a hand in a fist bump as they ride close together. Izuku shifts his arms and returns the gesture.
They drive for a few more miles, turning this way and that, speeding up and slowing down depending on the stretch of road ahead.
A few more minutes pass, and they cross under a highway bridge, but turn off underneath it onto what looks like a gravel side road for construction vehicles.
The blonde guy taps one of Izuku's hands. And he doesn't know why, but it felt like a check in, so Izuku just tightens his arms once in response.
Both of the motorcycles' lights dim before pulling out onto another road. This one is sleek, dark, and looks relatively new as though it was paved recently. The pink bike slows down and creeps along the side of the road. They pull into what looks like a long driveway that wraps around a small hill of expensive landscaping.
The red sports car is parked and shut off inside of an opened double bay garage. The bikes pull in beside it, with the pink and black bike in front. Their engines kill and the scary blonde rips his helmet off.
"Motherfucker!" He shouts, "how the fuck did you beat me here!"
The red and white haired man offers a sly smile and a shrug. "Italian made vehicles."
"Bullshit," the blonde huffs and gets off his bike. Izuku pulls his helmet off and hands it over. "C'mon, pretty boy. I gotta put this in the seat compartment." He takes Izuku's hand and helps him balance himself as he swings a leg off the bike.
"O-Oh, thanks."
"Don't mention it."
"Oooooh, who's this ray of sunshine?" The yellow haired guy asks from his seat ontop of a work bench against the wall.
"Oh, um...I'm Izuku!"
"Well, sunshine," the dark purple haired person says, Izuku still isn't sure if they're fem or masc. "There's beer and bottled drinks in the fridges, help yourself. My only rule is don't touch the damn garage radio system." They stride over to the fridge to grab a few sports drinks and tosses two at the tall blonde beside him, who catches them easily. "So don't touch it."
Izuku nods. "Understood."
"Your name is Izuku?" The blonde asks, and Izuku nods again. "It's a little late for introductions, but I'm Katsuki."
"H-Hello, Katsuki. Um, thank you...f-for the ride."
"Anytime, freckles."
"Anyone heard from Ei yet?" The red and white haired one asks.
"Last we saw, he was following the split route." The driver of the pink bike, who Izuku now knows is a brunette with round pink cheeks, says with an arm around the spikey space bun girl's waist.
As the red and white haired guy pulls out his phone, a pair of headlights turns the corner. The truck slowly, quietly, creeps forward. The gear shifts again to park in the second garage bay. Probably put in neutral to pull in silently, with the engine either stalled or off.
"There he is!" The yellow haired one cheers.
Katsuki takes a step back as the driver side door swings open. "Honey, I'm home!"
The punk rock individual moves to a panel in the wall and pushes a button that closes the garage doors. Katsuki turns to look out into the shop as people jump out of the truck.
"Roll call, shitheads!"
And one by one, people call out their names.
"Ochako!"
"Himi-chan!"
"Kyouka."
"Meme overlord, Pokémon Go gym leader, smooth criminal, Denki!"
The red and white haired one kisses the red head firmly on the mouth before answering. "Shouto."
"Eijirou!" The red head shouts with a fist in the air.
"Hanta," the one with the sleek mullet says while piling baseball bats and crowbars onto the bench counter.
"Mina!"
"Shinsou," the violet haired guy grumbles with his head pillowed on his arms.
The tall blonde beside him cracks his neck before loudly saying, "Katsuki motherfucking Bakugou."
Then, each pair of eyes in the room lands on Izuku.
Five seconds pass, then ten, then fifteen.
"Uhm....I-Izuku Midoriya?"
Katsuki snorts, "cute."
"Great, now that that's done," Mina then whirls around and chucks a pair of mechanic gloves at Katsuki. "WHY DIDN'T YOU WAIT FOR US!" She then throws a small wrench, which Katsuki deflects. "THERE WERE CAMERAS, YOU JERK!"
"YEAH, DUDE." Denki jumps off the work bench and weaves between vehicles and rolling tool boxes. "We would've had more time! I could have tased the cameras, the fuse box, something!"
"Oh, like that would've worked for sure!" Katsuki yells back, sarcastic at first. "And I couldn't fucking help it! I saw this cute dork in there and just had a bad feeling, so I fuckin' went!"
"Did that perverted fuck do anything to you?" Hanta asks, and Izuku shakes his head.
"No. He did try charging me triple for my things, but nothing else."
"Tsk, stupid son of a bitch," Katsuki grumbles.
"Um, can I ask about...what...uh, he did?"
"He hit on Hanta's fourteen year old niece. She told him her age, but he kept pushing her to spend some alone time with him, saying that no one would ever find out." Kyouka spat out, angry.
"So, I beat his ass." Hanta shrugs.
"And we wrecked his shop."
"And I stole his gumball machine," Denki points to the brightly colored chrome embellished machine.
"HOW DID YOU GET THAT IN THE CAR WITHOUT US NOTICING?" Kyouka yells.
"CAUSE I'M FAST AS FUCK, BOI."
"CAN WE GET BACK ON TRACK, PLEASE?!" Hitoshi rises from where he had laid his head. "There. Were. Cameras. They have our faces on camera, because SOMEBODY, forgot to bring masks. I'm not naming names, but it starts with K and ends in irishima."
Said guy, Eijirou, unlatches himself from Shouto's mouth. "I WAS IN A HURRY, I'M SORRY!"
"Um...the bodega doesn't have any security footage of you guys," Izuku says softly.
There's a thick silence, then Katsuki asks, "what?"
"Were the cameras off?" Kyouka asks as Hitoshi leans against a storage locker with a puzzled expression.
"No, they work just fine, but...um...I-I hacked into it...and...deleted it?"
"You did what?" Denki asks, shocked.
Katsuki turns slowly, staring at Izuku with narrowed eyes. "When?"
"Uh...after everyone else showed up."
"So you hacked, located, and deleted the footage...within less than four minutes?"
"Yes."
"Okay...but how?"
"Well, I created a virus using my classmate's beta tested bot maker for application manipulation, but I personally re-coded it to imbed viruses along with the bots that can corrode saved or active files in chunks. That way, within seconds, the entire saved software for the selected time frame will vanish bit by bit. And you know it's complete when you try to load the files and it gives an error message. If no error message appears, then you'll know there still small bits of the file left behind, and you can uninstall/reinstall the virus to delete what remains. But that's usually only the case for bigger files, like lets say a-"
"Okay, wait...wait, you're a student?" Katsuki looks momentarily horrified.
"A college student, yes. I'm a fourth year computer sciences major at UASTU."
"Ultra Alliance Science and Technology University?"
"Y-Yes?"
Hitoshi whistles low under his breath. "So that's how."
"Damn...." Kyouka scratches the back of her head.
"So there's no....security footage of us from tonight? And...you're sure?"
"Quite certain, yes."
Denki hums with a sly smile. "I like this guy."
"Adopted," Shouto says firmly.
"I have a mom, and I love her."
"Do you need a sugar da-oof." Izuku turns just in time to see Katsuki whack Shouto in the stomach with his helmet.
"Hey!" Eijirou pouts.
"It was a jest," Shouto wheezes out, holding his stomach.
"Besides, we all have a sugar mama, technically. This is her house." Mina gestures around at the garage. "Well, her house is above us."
"My wife, our bondsman and lawyer." Kyouka clarifies.
"Bondsman? As in like...when you get arrested?" Izuku dares to ask.
"Yep."
"How m-many...times?"
"Two for me!" Mina cheers.
"Once, but I talked myself out of trouble pretty easily. No charges." Eijirou smiles, face still practically pressed into Shouto's.
"An average of once or twice for all of us, across the board." Katsuki shrugs, like it's so casual and an everyday thing.
"Ha! Once or twice? Kats has been arrested at least-" Denki starts, but Katsuki lunges for him. A tool box and speaker fall to the floor, which has Kyouka yelling and pulling at her hair. Wrestled onto the garage floor, Katsuki gets Denki in a headlock.
"Shut. Up."
"Okay! Okay!" Denki wheezes out in choked submission.
Izuku adjusts the backpack straps over his shoulders and puts his face into his hands. "I just wanted late night ramen. The last thing I expected was to become a willing accomplice in a crime."
"Meh," Katsuki stands again after releasing Denki of his muscly prison. "Define crime."
"Again, is that rhetorical...or?"
"Rhetorical, smartass." Katsuki snorts back.
Mina walks alongside the sports car and slaps the hood. "Guys, not to like ruin the mood or anything, but we should commence operation fake-out."
"Make out?" Shouto asks while nuzzling his forehead into Eijirou's neck.
"Fake-out, you freaking goblins," Ochako sighs.
"Oh! Right!" Eijirou kisses Shouto's hands, once on the knuckles for each one, and pulls out a pocket knife.
Izuku takes a wary step back, and Katsuki chuckles under his breath. "Calm down, nerd. It's for the wrap."
"The wrap?"
"Watch," Katsuki says as he bends to reach under his motorcycle. The LED lights get pulled off in one harsh tug. "We wrap the cars and trucks in different prints when we're about to do something stupid....or...sort of illegal. So that the colors can't be tracked." He pulls out a switch blade and gets on one knee to cut a small line into what Izuku had thought was just paint. The wrap pulls back in shredded pieces, to reveal a black custom paint job with an orange 'X' across each side of the bike.
The sports car wrap gets pulled off to reveal a metallic blue color all around. The truck's wrap is red, but when it's cut and yanked off by several hands, the body of the truck is actually black....with red gears, splattered red paint to look like blood stains, and the name "Red Riot" painted on the tailgate in a cryptic font.
"Oh, wow..." Izuku breathes out.
"Yeah, we take this shit seriously," Katsuki says back. "You should let me take you seriously too, while we're at it."
"What?" Izuku chokes out in shock. "Wha- I mean...how-"
"Like a date, if...that's cool. Or just to say thanks for...all that shit back there." He shrugs his shoulders once he's stood back up. "Just one dinner, somewhere nice."
Those around them bust out in excited whispered and exchanged looks of surprise.
"Uh...w-well, I mean...if you're sure, then....yeah." Izuku pulls his sleeves down over his hands and coughs nervously to the side. "Yes, that sounds...lovely."
"Ooooooooohhh-" a few others start teasing.
"I SAID SHUT UP," Katsuki barks back with a slight pink color to his cheeks.
Once the wraps have been thrown away, Kyouka makes a few calls. Within half an hour, a twenty-four hour pizza delivery car pulls into the driveway. Izuku didn't think there was one in this city, but two big slices of pepperoni pizza later, he was proven wrong.
Just before two in the morning, Katsuki offers to give Izuku a ride back to his dorms, and Izuku says yes.
And when they reach the student housing parking lot, that sits barely on campus lines, Katsuki offers to walk him the rest of the way. But this time, Izuku politely declines. Though, immediately after, he does hand over his phone number, written in shaky hand writing with a green highlighter, and his name scrawled at the corner.
When he gets back to his dorm room and flops face first into bed, his phone dings.
There's the picture of the note with green highlighter messily drawn all over it tacked on with a message.
(546)-279-4616: Fuck I hope I read this right. You misspelled your own fucking name, dork.
Izuku laughs, more at himself than anything, then types a quick message back that just has the blonde's name and a question mark.
Izuku: Kacchan?
Autocorrect, Izuku's arch nemesis. Why would it change Katsuki to Kacchan anyways??!??!
(546)-279-4616: What the FUCK did you just call me?
Izuku: IT WAS AUTOCORRECT I SWEAR.
(546)-279-4616: Uh-huh, sure.
(546)-279-4616: Whatever you say, Deku.
Izuku: ( ｡ •̀ ᴖ •́ ｡)
(You have set 546-279-4616's nickname to "Kacchan!")
Kacchan: Oh, fuck me.
Izuku: Not until the fifth date ( ꈍ◡ꈍ)
Kacchan: Ahsnsisksijeja
Kacchan: FUCK
Kacchan: Ykw, fuck you actually.
Izuku: ..........
Izuku: That can be the sixth date (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
Kacchan: ABSMSISKiejaJd
Kacchan: I'M TRYING TO FUCKING DRIVE HOME, YOU SHITHEAD.
Izuku: Teehee.
Kacchan: SATURDAY.
Kacchan: 7PM. BE FUCKING READY. I'LL PICK YOU UP WHERE I DROPPED YOU OFF AT.
Izuku: (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ♡
Kacchan: STOP TEXTING ME.
Izuku: Goodnight, Kacchaaaaannnn. Get home safe 💚
Kacchan: LEAVE ME ALONE.
Izuku: (╥﹏╥)
Kacchan: 🧡
(You reacted 😊 to Kacchan's message!)
Izuku rolls over onto his back and sighs up at the ceiling. It takes him a little while to really process everything that's happened in the last two and a half-ish hours.
And....despite it all, he still feels like he did the right thing. Izuku also has a feeling that he'll be "doing the right thing," many more times in the future, in relations to all the wonderful people he got to meet tonight.
To top it all off, he has a date for this weekend!
When the window AC unit kicks on, reality settles in, and Izuku makes a startling, annoying, and exhausting realization.
He still hasn't finished studying for the night.....