C/TW: Mention of blood and bullying, minor burns, mentioned (rhetorical) abuse
I'm so sorry about the impromptu hiatus. This chapter is short, and it's purpose is more to get me back into the groove of writing than to add any actual plot.
I'm going to try to not go incognito for such a long time next time I need a break, but I can't make any promises. Enjoy!
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Izuku wakes up in his bed, safe and warm. He blinks up at the ceiling, stretching his fingers and toes slowly, trying to get his blood flowing again.
He massages his jaw a bit, frowning when it doesn't seem to open as wide as it usually does. Which is weird because Izuku's quirk has nothing to with his mouth. He has a minor pyrokinesis quirk, the perfect example of a combination between his mom and dad.
Ignoring the small warning bells and sense of this isn't right, Izuku clambers out of bed and gets ready for school. The boy does his daily stretches and walks to the bathroom, stifling a yawn.
One shower later, Izuku let's his mind wander, trusting muscle memory to accomplish his daily tasks. Maybe today he'll sit under the tree near the school gates for lunch.
It's supposed to be hot today, or so Mom told him. The shade would feel really nice—Izuku startles back to the present when something cold touches his shoulder.
A thick white substance is smeared on the pads of his fingers and he sees a roll of white bandages and a tube of, what he assumes to be, the white stuff on his fingers. He picks up the tube and reads the label. Why would he ever need burn cream and bandages?
The smell of burnt caramel, strobing flashes of yellow and orange and white, and red, red ruby eyes assaults his senses. Kacchan is the only person Izuku knows who has a fire based quirk, besides his dad, but Kacchan would never hurt him.
They're Best Friends.
Shaking his head, Izuku puts the cream and bandages away and continues his morning routine. He carefully washes his hands and pushes all thoughts of burns and injury out of his mind.
Once he's back in his room, Izuku puts his uniform on and surveys his array of hair pins and clips. He's tried to make a habit of pinning his hair back because it can get really annoying to have to constantly bush back his bangs. He settles for something simple; a thin black headband.
He hears his mom call him for breakfast and double checks that no bandages are visible—okay, these odd thoughts have to stop. Bandages? Burn cream? Maybe he was hit with a quirk that made him delusional on his way home yesterday? Kacchan with knock some sense into him. He always does.
He switches his lights off and hurries to the kitchen. His mother is finishing spooning rice into a bowl with some steamed vegetables. He snatches it from her with a smile and shovels the food into his mouth.
Inko laughs at the face her son makes when he burns his tongue on the rice and packs a bento into Izuku's garishly yellow bag. She smoothes a knuckle across his forehead.
"I'm going to be home tonight, so make sure to be here in time for dinner. I know you tend to lose track of time when you're with Katsuki," she tells him. Izuku "mmphs!" his agreement and then he's out the door and racing for school.
He slides into his seat right as his teacher starts calling roll, flashing a grin at Kacchan when he rolls his eyes at his lateness. Class passes in a flash and soon the school day is over, his belly still full from the grilled fish his mom had packed for lunch.
He bounces over to where Kacchan stands by the gate, talking to Tsubasa-kun. Izuku only catches the trail end of their conversation.
"—my house this weekend. Do you think you can make it?" That was Tsubasa-kun.
"Tch, no. I have a shoot with the old hag and then I'm hanging out with Zuku. I wouldn't go to some lame ass party if yours anyway. Izuku smiles. That's his Kacchan for you, brash and brutally honest.
"Seriously?! You'd hang out with that—oh. Hey, Deku," Tsubasa flashes him a crooked grin, layered with teeth and dripping obsidian venom. Izuku wilts at bit, but makes sure to reinforce his smile before sidling up to Kacchan and beaming up at him.
"Are you ready to go? Aunt Mitsuki wants enough time to do your makeup," he says. His throat aches and Izuku swallows heavily. Kacchan tsks and looks away. Nevertheless, he replies with a mumbled, "Yeah."
Izuku starts walking, taking Kacchans hand in his and earnestly pulls him in the direction of the Bakugou residence. The blond tugs out of his grip, but only to lace their fingers together in a more comfortable position.
"Hold on, Zuku, not so fast. I have to say something to Tsubasa first," Kacchan grumbles. Izuku jerks to a stop.
"Alright. But make it quick. I don't want to be late."
Kacchan wheels around quickly and Izuku duitifully stays facing the street, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He hears a fist meeting flesh, the crunch of bone and quick shout of pain in quick succession. He rocks on his heels.
"Don't you ever, ever insult Izuku again by calling him that, you hear me? Otherwise I'll crush you like the vile insect you are," Kacchan snarls. Izuku turns around. Ruby is dripping from Tsubasa's nose and Izuku bends down to wipe some from where it smeared by the dragon boy's mouth.
"All done here Kacchan?"
"Uh huh. Let's go, nerd, before the old hag blows a gasket."
And so the pair leave a boy on the ground staring horridly at their retreating figures. Oh, what a silhouette they make.
A skipping boy with stars in his eyes and laughter on his lips. A slouched boy with his hands shoved into his pockets and mirthful indulgence glittering in his gaze.
"Hey Kacchan?"
Said boy grunts. "What?"
"Do you ever get strange thoughts, or—or phantom feelings? Like burns that are supposed to be there but aren't?" Izuku hesitantly asks. Katsuki looks sharply towards his childhood friend. What the hell? The blond stops and grabs Izuku by the shoulders.
"No, I don't get those. Are you okay though? Did Auntie hurt you? You know you can tell me anything." His gaze hardens. "I'll kill her if she hurt you."
Izuku shakes his head rapidly, his eyes wide. "N-no! Nothing like that. I just felt really weird this morning and keep thinking about...never mind," he trails off. Katsuki scrutinizes the other but sees nothing wrong except Izuku's nervousness at being studied to intently. He releases his grasp on Izuku's shoulders. Maybe he should mention something to his mom.
"Okay, whatever you say," Kacchan says warily. Izuku nods empathetically and they continue on their way to the Bakugou residence.
Izuku is received with hugs and a snack once they finally make it to the house. He munches on a carrot as the sound of good-natured arguing echoes in a different room of the house.
Several hours go by at the location the Bakugou's and Izuku walked to for the shoot. Full of color swatches and yelling and flashing, hot lights. But the boy has long become used to this and is fully content to watch Kacchan pose in front of him. Occasionally Mitsuki asks him for his opinion on what accessories to give Kacchan and Maseru joins him for some silent company.
It's one of Izuku's favorite things, to be here on set, making silly faces so that Kacchan will flash a genuine smile.
But all good things must end.
Inko picks him up and they eat a peaceful dinner of noodle soup, Izuku chattering away about his day. He curls up on the couch to watch a quick video from his favorite quirk analyzing channel before heading to the kitchen.
He hums a tune to himself as he makes some tea. His throat is on fire even though he'd been fine yesterday. Maybe he should ask mom to schedule a doctors appointment.
He grips the counter as the icy feeling of fear sluices down his spine. Izuku is paralyzed in the kitchen, confused and scared. What just happened?
Shaking his body out he retreats to his room to sleep. He settles into bed and stares at the ceiling until his eyelids are drooping and his body feels heavy. A sluggish arm reaches, groping, and the light.
Turns.
Off.
Izuku wakes with a gasp, flushed and uncomfortable. He feels the pulsing heat of a burn on his shoulder and the soft scratch of band aids. The darkness around him is all the confirmation he needs. It had been a dream. A lovely, alluring, unobtainable dream.
He sheds a tear and mourns what could have been.
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Post AN: If you notice any mistakes or something you feel should be included in the CW, please tell me.
Constructive criticism, encouragement and questions are my source of nourishment. Racist, homophobic, or negative comments will be deleted and are not welcome.