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“Izuku, is that you?”
“Yeah, mom. I’m home.” The squeaking of the front door closing filled their small entrance of the quaint, two-bedroom townhouse. A stout, green-haired woman stuck her head out from the doorway of the kitchen, ladle still in hand, and smiled down the hallway to her son. Izuku was in the process of removing his baseball cap to hang up, wiping the sweat that had collected on his forehead from the sweltering and unforgiving June heat.
The smell of familiar spices and cooking beef wafted down the hallway, which was partially illuminated with the light pouring in from the open kitchen, triggering a sense of nostalgia in the green-haired teen. After a day like today, coming home to his mother’s famous beef stew was just the pick-me-up Izuku needed. He kicked his shoes off roughly as his only way of getting some aggression out and started to step into the house. He stepped one foot out of the entryway before regretting the small action and turned his body around to neaten up the worn-down red sneakers to face towards the door.
“Welcome home, honey. How was the summer job search?” she shouted out the last sentence behind her as she walked back into the kitchen to tend to the stew she had been preparing. Izuku threw his backpack down next to the table used to hold their keys in an unceremonious lump on the floor. He found himself stuck in place for a moment, just staring at the crumpled canvas material. The heavyweight of defeat and disappointment weighing down on him and clinging onto his shoulders with no relief, even in the comfort of his childhood home.
He let out a long, dejected sigh before dragging his feet to where his mother was stationed in front of the hot stovetop. “Not too great. Got turned down every place I went.”
“This is why I told you not to wait to get started,” his mother tutted in the classic I-told-you-so tone every mother knows, while stirring the boiling stew absentmindedly.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, mom, but I really wanted a break after finishing up the year, and I didn’t think a week would make that big of a difference,” he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket nestled on the countertop next to the sink, taking a large chunk out of it, juices dripping down his fingers and palm. He ran out of the house this morning without eating and his rumbling stomach reminded him of this fact all throughout the day. He quickly chewed and swallowed before continuing, leaning back against the counter, “I feel like I’ve been going non-stop since last fall.”
Senior year had been like running an endless marathon for Izuku. Heavy loads of classwork, scrambling to get college applications sent, juggling his senior project, club meetings and volunteering to fill up his resume. It felt like it was never going to end, but his hard work and efforts paid off, he was on a full scholarship and now, Izuku just wanted to kick back and play video games late into the morning, guilt-free. Could you really blame a guy?
Just one measly week to catch his breath before he signed the rest of his free time away to some big-name grocery store, where he was barely paid minimum wage and his manager was just a few years older than him. Every summer, after each school year wrapped up, while his classmates ran off to their cars to go do, you know, normal teenager things, Izuku made it his mission to squeeze every ounce of himself into working whatever shift he could get his hands on. He wanted to be able to complete his time in college without having to work during active semesters, so he can fully immerse himself in his schoolwork and have time to, hopefully, make some friends and get the whole “college experience.”
His other reasoning, one that was pushed to the forefront of his mind every time he came home, was his want to not burden his mother any more than he already had throughout the years. All he had to do was save up enough for his first semester and then he could work in between school years when he returned home to take care of the rest.
He brought the apple back to his lips, staring at the woman, who had been there for everything. The darkened bags under her eyes had become a permanent feature over the years of excruciating long hours. Her small, gentle hands now held sunspots and the bones jutted out more than he remembered. There was something about seeing the age gradually showing on his mom that tugged at his heart, a sense of mourning for a person who isn’t gone yet.
Thankfully, his mom’s voice, as melodic and gentle as her soul, interrupted his thoughts and grounded him, a talent he wasn’t sure she knew she possessed, “I was downtown earlier to pick up something for the hospital’s bake sale, and that little bookstore, you know, the one next to, um, what’s it called?”
She snapped her fingers, trying to jog the memory of the store’s name. Izuku smiled, already knowing exactly where she was talking about since they walked up the same main street for years. “Yeah, I know the one. What about it?”
“Well, anywho, they had a little sign posted on the window, saying they were hiring. Maybe give them a try?”
Izuku hadn’t even thought of looking up and down their small town’s main street. His mind mainly directing him towards bigger, better-known chain stores. Honestly, at this point, he’d take anything. The nerves of not having a job by the time the new semester started were slowly eating away at his brain.
“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot tomorrow.” He took a final bite out of the apple before chucking the core into the garbage bin, “For now, I’m tired and gross. I’m gonna grab a quick shower before dinner.”
His mom let him know she’d call him down once dinner was ready, but he was already climbing up the stairs. Photos trailed the wall, a different picture of the same two happy faces making their way up the narrow staircase alongside him. He stopped at the top of the stairs to spare a glance at one in particular. A toothy smile spread wide across the cheeks of his younger, chubbier face, bright blue icing smeared on his chin from a miscalculated bite of cake.
A feeling of longing nostalgia washed over him. Again, this same feeling of loss kept creeping into his consciousness each day that passed. He felt like he was shedding the tight and constraining coat of youth and replacing it with the larger, heavier attire of adulthood. Looser and more freeing but suffocating and a little intimidating. He let out a long sigh. He still had this summer to be a teenager. No pressure, just the same old routine he’d done every summer. Gah, he was honestly sounding like an old man remembering earlier days that had longed past, but he was barely on the cusp of his young-adult life.
Izuku walked into his bedroom, flicking on the lamp on his desk, knowing the slowly dimming light from his window would not be enough once he returned from his shower. He rummaged through his drawers, looking for some fresh and clean clothes, but finding none. Even with an entire week off, he chose to laze about, resigning to doing absolutely nothing but relaxing.
He gave a quick glance around his room and was able to find a shirt and a pair of sleep pants that weren’t too repulsive to wear. Luckily he had some clean underwear tucked into the back of one of his drawers after giving it another thorough look. He threw his scrambled outfit onto his bed for later and made his way to his and his mom’s shared bathroom.
Washing away a hard day of job searching and utter rejection was relieving. Izuku’s tight muscles relaxed on instinct as the warm water rushed over him, releasing whatever leftover tension was there. He tried his best to brush away any intrusive thoughts of self-doubt about going to the bookstore tomorrow, but it was tough when you had been denied so many times in a single outing.
He hadn’t been to this bookstore in quite a while, opting to go to the library if he needed a book, saving money at every turn and not being a hindrance on his mother’s paycheck when he could help it. He momentarily wondered if he’d get a discount if he was hired on. He shook his head, slinging suds and water droplets that hit the plastic shower curtain, producing the sound of a brief and rapid rainstorm. He didn’t want to get any of his hopes up, so just like how he handled any other issue that overwhelmed him, he was just going to put them aside until the time comes when he needs to unbox them.
But, he found his normal comforting methods to be impossible to follow through on. He couldn’t understand if he was just exhausted from the day or if the dread of failure was breaking down his coping mechanisms, allowing suppressed thoughts to slip through.
Izuku wasn’t a sad or lonely person by any means, or at least, he tried his best not to feel that way. He wasn’t bullied or pushed around while growing up. If anything he had stuck along the walls of the school, sneaking his way past the larger cliques and daunting crowds of the hallways, essentially nestling himself comfortably into the background. A viridian wallflower. A professional people watcher, he would joke to himself.
He’d rather spend his time sticking to what he knows, what’s comfortable, himself. No unpredictability because who knows you better than yourself, right? Izuku thought so.
Izuku didn’t spend all his time alone, though. He had his beautiful mother to keep him company, and he wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world. And how could he? For the longest time, they were all each other had, and even now, they continue to be that pillar for each other.
Izuku wasn’t a sad or lonely person, but he missed his mom a lot. A lot less now that he was older and capable of handling himself, but as a kid, at times, it was painful. After his father up and left them to fend for themselves, ripping the metaphorical tablecloth out from under them when Izuku was at the ripe age of seven.
Izuku tried his best not to think of that man. His mom’s soft and gentle nature wearing on him over the years, her teachings of forgiveness and turning the other cheek at the wrongdoings of others unintentionally creating the illusion of forgiveness in Izuku’s mind. This coping mechanism that had been drilled into his head for years did not make him absolve his father of abandoning them. No, instead of facing the problem, Izuku just wouldn’t allow himself to think of the man.
No matter how sweet his mother can be, and even if she had enforced other positive feelings into him, he found it hard to forget the late nights without his mother there, while she worked herself to death at the hospital to make up for the loss of income. Or the late nights with his mother, laying in a fetal position, crying on the couch in front of the TV when she thought Izuku had fallen asleep. The images flashed across the screen late into the night, even when once-bright jade eyes that matched his own couldn’t open to watch them, casting cool and somber shadows on the dark living room walls.
Izuku would always feel a resounding level of guilt for putting his mother through so much. He knew deep down that he wasn’t the reason his father left, maybe not at a younger age, but now at seventeen, Izuku could recognize that his father just wasn’t cut out for parenthood. His mother never gave him a reason for his unexpected departure, and Izuku never asked for one.
The greenette let out an audible huff to himself. He tried not to think of that man, yet here he was, reminiscing on a part of his childhood he’d rather replace with warm memories of amusement park visits, graduation ceremonies, birthdays, surrounded by not one but two proud smiles.
To escape his own thoughts, he wrapped up his shower by quickly scrubbing his skin of any residual sweat and lingering smells. Turning off the water, he reached blindly outside the closed curtain for his towel. When he didn’t feel anything, he, begrudgingly, stuck his head out into the cooler air. He was off by a few inches. He hummed in frustration but stepped out of the shower to grab the worn and used towel anyway.
As he walked from the bathroom back to his bedroom, crossing the hallway in the process, the delicious smell of his mother’s cooking had wafted up the stairs. His stomach growled in response to the alluring scent, pushing him to rush through drying his body off and throwing on his questionably clean clothes.
By the time he made it down the stairs, his mom was pulling out bowls and plates to set up the table that was nestled in a small nook opposite of the stove and countertop. He made a move to take them from her, but she pulled them back away from him, partially concealing them to her side. “Oh no, you don’t. Go dry your hair properly. What would we do with you if you managed to catch a cold in the middle of summer?”
He was about to accept defeat until an idea crossed his head. He moved to his mother’s left and opened up the drawer to pull out a clean kitchen towel, quickly ruffling his hair and draping the cloth over his shoulders to catch any stray drops. He gave his mom a triumphant and cheeky, “There,” and took the plates from her as she stood in the same spot, mouth agape.
They laughed as she followed him into the cramped dining area, smacking him lightly on the back. His mother took her normal seat at the tiny, two-person table, pot of stew already in place in the middle of it, steam still escaping from the pop of simmering bubbles. He placed the bowls and utensils on their designated placemats, his mother picking up and filling their bowls immediately as he lowered himself to the cool wooden seat.
He watched as her hands gripped the ladle, spooning big portions into each bowl. Her hands shook slightly as the weight increased in her grasp. He once again noted the once youthful hands that would hold his own as they walked around the park, now aged and starting to wrinkle.
Izuku had never felt so afraid of the future until lately. Was it really fear? It’s the only way he’s been able to find to describe this foreboding feeling. He knew his mom was an adult and had been longer than he has, but the thought of her being all alone after he left for college left him feeling compunctious. Those late nights of her crying by herself flashed across his mind for the second time that evening. Izuku didn’t take care of his mother, but the thought of leaving her to pick up all his extra work tore him apart.
“Izuku? Your food is going to get cold. Eat up, you had a long day and deserve a good meal.”
And with the first spoonful he brought to his lips, the thoughts were wiped away. Swept under the rug along with any of his other leftover intrusive thoughts. The mound under this metaphorical rug was ever-growing, but Izuku isn’t much for spring cleaning, so he took another bite of his food, letting the inviting warmth take over instead. Even in the middle of some of the hottest months of their area, Izuku still loved his mother’s homemade stew, a staple to their happy but tiny family, he reminded himself.
Their dinner was mostly spent in comfortable silence, only filled with the sounds of hungry slurps from Izuku’s end and idly chitchat about her day at work from his mother. He’d heard the same stories hundreds of times but understood that his mother didn’t really have time for a social life and relied on Izuku to vent and have someone to talk to just bounce words off of. He did the same to her, and it’s not like he didn’t like hearing about his mother’s day-to-day responsibilities so he took each word that left his mother’s lips in gratefully.
She continued her story about a kid that had thrown a tantrum over getting his yearly vaccinations as they finished their dinner and set out to wash their dirtied dishes. It reminded her of how Izuku was as a kid. “Remember how much you couldn’t stand needles. Every flu season, I felt like I was going into battle.” She finished off with an airy giggle before looking back down to the dish she had been washing solemnly.
“You’ve grown up right in front of my eyes, haven’t you?” Her voice gave way to a slight tremor towards the end of her sentence. His hands stopped mid-action as he slowly lowered the ladle he had been drying to glance over at his mother, whose head hung low, but he could still see her bottom lip trembling as she tried to hide the welling tears behind the wall of bangs that covered her eyes. He gently placed the dish and towel down on the counter, encasing his mother into a tight hug.
This only made the guilt he had felt earlier resurface, a gust of wind blowing up the rug he hid all those feelings under. He stamped it down as quickly as he could, putting on a smile and rubbing his mother’s back in calming circles. “It’ll be okay, mom. I’m not going away forever, and you know I’ll be home on breaks. You can come up and visit me on weekends. I don’t know what I would do without one of your homemade meals.”
She pulled back, wiping away the tears that had since spilled, hugging the wrinkles that had deepened over the years. “I know you’ll be okay. You’ve grown up so much, ‘Zuku baby.”
“I guess not too much since I’m still afraid of needles.” This quip brought back the smile Izuku loved to see, a symbol of homeliness and one of assurance.
He tried to break through the remaining sullen mood by recounting how he saw a kid fall off his scooter on the way to one of the stores he attempted to apply at. As he told the story, he couldn’t help but steal a glance out the window above the sink at their smaller backyard. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them.
When his dad was still around, the fenced-in area was covered with growing weeds and unkempt grass. Izuku had been too afraid to play out there after seeing a documentary about snakes native to the country and how they enjoyed tall grass. At the time, the grass reached his knees, so he never dared to venture more than a foot or so out into the open area. His juvenile imagination ran rampant, putting thoughts of getting lost in the tall blades of grass, becoming tangled and never being able to get out just to be snake food for later.
The tiny area remained the same, if not worsened, after his father’s sudden departure. That was until his mom started seeing a therapist and learned about the magical healing powers of hobbies.
As a way to fill the emptiness in her chest that Izuku couldn’t quite measure up to, she picked up gardening in what little spare time she had. She invested in a cheap, rundown push lawn mower and went to work on shaping the backyard to be a miniature utopia for her and Izuku. Since Izuku was attached to her hip at that age, it was only natural that he picked up the hobby as well. Cultivating their tiny backyard became a way for them to both grow from the loss of a husband and a father figure, whether his mother understood it at the time or not.
Every sunny day spent together out there was another petal, another vine, growing and blooming within Izuku. Starting in the empty cave within his heart and spreading through his veins until it was his whole being.
Each paycheck became a day to look forward to. Its arrival became a routine. Every other Wednesday, they’d pile into the car, drop by the hospital to pick up his mother’s check, go to the bank to drop it off, and off to the nearest nursery to pick out their newest addition.
It started with one plant and soon it became so many that they had to dial back their bi-weekly outing to just once per month. But planting with his mother grew into a part of who Izuku was. To fill in the space when they weren’t gardening, Izuku begged his mother to take him to the town’s library to check out books on flowers to help him decide which he wanted to add next.
The world of plants was an awe-inducing one for Izuku. There were so many varieties and mutations of flowers and vegetation. Each held meaning and so did their colors. Every petal and leaf hide symbolism and cultural importance that just fed into Izuku’s hunger to know more.
This newly discovered passion led tiny Izuku down the path to where he stood now. One more summer away from pursuing a degree in Horticulture. The bubbling of excitement in his chest every time he thought about his future career forced a smile on his face every time.
Before long they had finished drying and putting the dishes away, and the sun had sunken behind the trees lining the fence of their backyard. Izuku stretched his limbs above his head, a few pops here and there. His mom offered him a spot on the couch to watch whatever reruns were airing that night, but he declined, wishing her a good night.
He had been up since early that morning, and he was ready to sink into his mattress and sleep away whatever residual stress and feelings his earlier shower and meal couldn’t quite shake.
His room was dimly lit with only the warm glow of his desk lamp creating intricate shadows on the walls. He dragged his feet to his desk, the burdensome weight of the day quickly encroaching on him at the temptation of sleep found only a few feet away on his bed. He was about to click the switch on his lamp but looked down at the various papers strewn across the wooden surface. He ran his fingers over the top of an envelope, a college insignia sticker used to seal the letter within was ripped in half from when his eager hands hastily opened the letter a few months prior.
Encased in the crumpled and worn envelope was Izuku’s acceptance letter. He kept it nearby, beaming with pride every time he looked at it. A reminder for why he worked so hard.
He returned his attention back to the task of turning out the light and jumped into bed. Even with the sun setting, it was still too warm to curl up under the covers, so he resigned to laying on top of the unmade sheets. He pressed his head into his pillow, turned on his side to stare back at his desk. The remaining glow from how long the lamp had been on slowly fading as did his vision as his eyes fluttered shut.
Before he even knew it, his breath was slowing until it found an even rhyme, sleep finding him easily.
∴ ∵ ∴
Izuku groaned at the uncomfortable feeling of sticky sweat on his skin like a fresh coating of morning dew, forcing his eyes to open up unwillingly. Light was now filtering into his room even through the tightly closed blinds covering his window. He drowsily stretched his arm out to his bedside table, making empty grabs for his phone before realizing he fell asleep with it still in his pocket.
Pulling it out, he let out a sigh of relief. 9 a.m. and still at 80%. He had been so busy yesterday, he didn’t really use it much except to look for nearby stores. He pocketed it once more before rolling fully onto his back, rubbing his face in an attempt to wake himself up. Didn’t have much of an effect, so he decided it was finally time to drag himself out of his bed and start the day.
He moseyed his way across the hallway to the bathroom. The mirror was fogged up - his mom must have taken a bath before work this morning. Rubbing circles into his eyes still wasn’t doing much as far as getting rid of the sleepy haze that was still dusted over his brain, so he stumbled a bit through the process of brushing his teeth. Though as he continued his morning ritual, his eyes began to focus more, and his limbs were finally warming up and able to catch up to his brain’s commands.
A quick few splashes of cold water to the face was the last little jolt he needed to fully wake up. Which was good because he needed to kick it into high gear. The bookstore opened at eleven, and he still needed to wash his clothes since he decided to take the lazy route last night and chose sleep over responsibilities.
With a bit more pep in his step, he ran back to his room, picking up his nicer interview clothes that were worn yesterday as well as a few other random outfits to wash and threw them into the washer downstairs in the kitchen. With the low rumbling of the washing machine in the background, he opened the fridge to find milk, some eggs, and half a stick of butter. With his limited resources, he decided it was probably best to keep it simple and pulled a couple of eggs out to cook up.
Cooking didn’t take long, the sizzle and popping of oil and egg whites becoming the perfect white noise for his still slightly groggy brain to focus on, but once he settled into his seat at the now half-filled two-seater table his thoughts rushed back to him. The dull thrumming of the washing machine, the only noise echoing throughout the cramped kitchen.
Izuku wasn’t a sad or lonely person, but sometimes, the emptiness of the house was taunting. The normally warm, yellow walls become muted, and the windows never bringing in as much light as they should when he found himself alone. The constant stillness of the device in his pocket a heavy reminder of his ineptitude of forming lasting relationships with his peers and previous co-workers.
Conversation never came easy or second nature to Izuku outside of his mother but did that really count? It wasn’t stumbling over his words mid-talk because he never even made it to that point.
Co-workers. No, not getting his hopes up there. After so many ‘no’s and ‘sorry, kid’s from yesterday, he didn’t want to heighten his anxiety more than it already was. But maybe a stray thought passed through his head, peeking its head outside the industrial-grade door of lost hopes that was usually kept tightly sealed and locked up deep within his subconscious. Just maybe this new setting would produce something… just something . Anything.
The hustle and bustle of his position at the grocery store heeded no such thing. No something. The grumpy owner only hiring what was needed, nothing more, but, more times than not, definitely less. So Izuku kept his head down and stuck to his duties for the day, greeted his co-workers with a nod of his head in the breakroom, smiled and waved goodnight at each end of his shift, and made it home.
No, he wasn’t envious of the exchanged numbers and giggles between the other teenagers working alongside him. No, he was never jealous of the hangouts and gatherings he would overhear being planned between a group of employees after the usually glaring lights of the store had been dimmed for the evening.
At the very least, that’s what he told himself.
Poking at the overly-runny yolk with the worn metal fork, Izuku found himself thinking. Maybe he missed his chance to learn proper socializing skills while in school. No, he spoke to his mom perfectly fine. Maybe instead of late-night solo studying sessions, he should have taken up that offer to go to the movies with his fellow club members. No, he wouldn’t be on his way to his dream school to study his dream subject if he had, he reassured himself. Maybe he should have tried harder to connect with his long-time co-workers at the grocery store. No, if they wanted to be around him without being paid to do so, they would have invited him to join them.
The alarming sound of the washing machine’s buzzer jolted him from his lapse into regretful thinking and reminded him to pull out the mental broom to sweep those thoughts away for another time.
He sat up with a slight huff and coaxed the half-eaten eggs to fall into the garbage with his fork before placing his plate in the sink. Any remaining thoughts were dumped away to focus on moving his wet clothes into the dryer.
∴ ∵ ∴
How does a simple sign cause so much dread?
Izuku’s head was tilted back to look up at an aged wooden sign, hanging from a decorative, intricate wrought-iron bracket. Metal ivy leaves curled and covered the now rusted chains holding up the wooden board. Chipped cerulean paint surrounded a raised craving of a book and the simple word ‘books.’
Izuku let out a shaky sigh, taking one more moment to check himself in the reflection of the bay window of the storefront. Collar flattened, buttons all in place and in the right holes (took him a few tries, but he got it), no noticeable sweat stains, hair… whatever. He did the best he could with it.
Looking past his mirrored image, he noted the simple book display behind the glass. A few different titles propped up on thin wire stands were splayed on the doley-covered rustic table in a semi-circle. In the center of the books, a small hand-cut, handwritten sign saying, ‘monthly picks.’ Izuku briefly wondered if they actually kept up with the display and interchanged it but decided to take one more deep breath to steel himself before reaching out a hand to push the door open, fleetly noticing the ‘now hiring’ sign posted on the window of the entrance.
Familiar scents of aged pages and ink entered his being, momentarily taking him back to countless hours spent wandering the endless shelves of the local and school library. The store was simple, not very big, but definitely enough for Izuku to know that there were hundreds of books stored away inside the walls. On the left of the door was the book displayed, now looking a bit smaller than it did from outside.
Backed along the display was a comfy-looking couch, the type that looked like you’d get sucked in by the overly plush cushions and never be able to get up once you sat down. There were also a few single-seater chairs placed around the coffee table littered with multiple stacks of magazines. The walls above filled with minimalist posters of famous stories and epics. Potted plants hung from thick white macrame nets from the ceiling, swaying from the gust of wind created by Izuku’s entrance. He noted that one of the pots looked like it held begonias.
This place had definitely had some upgrades since he was last here all those years ago. It looked good, inviting and charming.
Izuku was so distracted from gawking at the decor that he didn’t notice the checkout counter jutting out perpendicular from the wall opposite to where he had been looking. His hands instinctively came up to stop himself from being sent any farther forward into the antique-looking wood of the countertop. He released a short huff, partially because of the wind being slightly pushed out of him from the force of running into the counter as well as a small laugh at himself for getting so caught up in the details to not even notice where he was going.
Fortunately, for Izuku’s nerves and his chances of being hired, he didn’t make a fool of himself within seconds of walking into the store since there was no one stationed at the front. He straightened up, flattening his crumpled-up shirt. There was a door behind the counter with a big red sign letting every patron know that the room behind it was strictly for employees only.
Izuku decided to wait to see if anyone would come up to the front, feeling a bit imposing if he were to hunt someone down just trying to work. He was able to make it to the store right as they were opening, so whoever was working was probably still setting up shop for the day. But after a few minutes, he felt the familiar tinge of awkwardness and uncomfortability, so he chose to explore the store some.
Not to put any sense of false hope in his brain, but it really had been a while since he’d been inside an actual bookstore – let alone this one in particular.
And if he just so happened to stumble across an employee hidden between two of the many towering bookshelves, it would just be a bonus. So, that’s what he set out to do. Taking a wide sidestep around the counter and past the comfy lounge area.
The area where the shelves were was a little more narrow than the open entrance, filled with shelf after shelf of books and random merchandise.
The soft, yellow lighting from the ceiling was partially obstructed by the lofty bookcases, creating a low but tranquil atmosphere, which was amplified by the gentle wafts of woody scents being emitted from the infuser resting on one of the higher platforms of one of the shelves. Even in the midst of the scorching June heat, the bookstore gave off an air of coziness. Almost like the homey-feeling of a cabin in the dead of winter, logs burning in the fireplace.
But it didn’t feel suffocating as one would think. The air conditioning of the building staved off any sweltering heat from the beating sun outside.
Izuku found himself subconsciously searching for his normal go-to section of any bookstore he visited as he slipped past the many empty rows of bookcases, reading off the genre plaques at the end of each shelving unit until he found himself standing in front of one marked, ‘botanical.’
A small, content smile spreads across his face, finally finding some solace in being in his element. He slid his way into the row and fingered across the various spines, mostly consisting of various hues of green to match the contents bond within. Many titles rang familiar in his head, having already crossed his path.
‘ A Brief History of Medicinal Traditions .’
Huh, he’d never heard of this one. Must have been released recently. I haven’t seen it at the library, he thought to himself. Nimble fingers pulled at the hardcover and worked through each page, eyes scanning and taking in every word, as he read and mumbled broken sentences under his breath. Before he even knew it, he’d made it through the first chapter, unsure how much time had even passed.
“Oh!” Izuku jumped out of his skin as his attention was ripped from the book. The scare caused him to joggle and flail as he tried to catch the book before it landed with a loud thump on the ground. He looked over to his left at the opening of the row to find a short brunette girl, arms filled with a stack of books that reached the bottom of her chin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I didn’t hear you come in, but if you need any help finding a specific title, let me know.”
She gave a soft smile, round, rosy cheeks lifting to scrunch her eyes before starting to make her way to the front of the store. Izuku was taken aback momentarily before he remembered what he was there for. He had let himself get sidetracked from the whole purpose of the visit. He scrambled to collect himself once more before chasing after her, finding it difficult to keep pace with her as she made her way to the door behind the counter.
“A-ah! Actually, umm, I wanted to ask-uh-inquiry about the job posted on the door.” This grabbed her attention as she let out a surprised ‘oh,’ as if no one had asked about it in a while.
“Really? Okay, cool! Um, hmm,” she hummed, eyebrows knitted as she looked around for a place to set the stack of books. They were placed precariously on the stool behind the counter that he failed to notice when he first arrived. Her expression remained the same as she searched underneath the counter. Izuku’s scrunched in a similar fashion to the reaction but got rid of expression when the brunette seemed to have found what she was looking for. “Here.”
A pen and paper were thrust at him, and his hands grabbed onto them on instinct. Looking down, he saw a crude, handwritten application.
“Just fill this out while I go grab my parents, and we’ll get you an interview set up.” Before he could get another word out, the girl had already run off and disappeared behind the closed door of what Izuku could only assume was an office of some sorts.
Huh, he was already getting an interview? He preened at the fact, a sliver of hope slipping through the cracks of the vault door he kept those types of falsely-reassuring thoughts locked behind. This was more progress than he had made at any other store he attempted to apply to yesterday. Half the time, people barely wanted to hand him an application, let alone actually speak to him. He took it as a positive and looked for a place to fill out the form. His eyes landed on the lounge area. He chose to sit in one of the individual chairs, avidly avoiding the couch, so he didn’t end up embarrassing himself if he accidentally got stuck in between the plush cushions.
After filling out a copious amount of resumes already, Izuku had basically mastered writing out his details in a swift manner. Not much to brag about an otherwise useless skill, but still, he let himself have his moment of pride. Name, done. Date of birth, done. Address, done. Experience, done. Flipping over to the back, he continued down the line of questions. References, done. Favorite flavor of ice cream, don- wait, what? He read over the question again, and then again. And then flipped back over to scan through the previous questions once more. Yeah, those were all par for the course.
He chanced a glance at the remaining questions on the back to find them to be similar to the outlandish and out-of-place ice cream question. If you could have a superpower, what would it be? What’s something small that makes you irrationally angry? What would you do if you woke up one morning and found a concerning amount of lizards in your room?
Izuku rubbed his chin in confusion, not too sure how to deal with or even begin to answer these questions. Did they seriously expect him to answer these? Well, what would they be doing on the application if they didn’t have some level of importance to them, he reasoned with himself.
And what exactly was a non-concerning amount of lizards to wake up to?
The question was left unanswered in his head as he moved on to focus on the task at hand. He guessed there was no real harm in answering them, and that’s what Izuku went with. He got to writing out his answers, thoughtfully considering his response and taking time to detail each one.
After giving the page one more lookover, he found himself satisfied enough and put the paper down on the table. The brunette had yet to return, so he grabbed for one of the magazines resting on the table. He had never made it this far during his job search and hadn’t had an interview since the grocery store, so his nerves were quickly being brought to the surface.
He felt like he had already used up a large portion of his wilting confidence just informing the girl of his interest in the job. If those weird and seemingly offbeat questions were on the application, what the hell were the owners going to ask him during the actual interview. He tried to focus on anything else – his leg already bouncing uncontrollably, and he could feel his fingers going numb from the swelling of nerves in his chest as he attempted to flip through the colorful advertisements of the magazine.
He was about to finish skimming over an interview with some actor about some movie they had just played in, when the sound of a doorknob rattled. He looked up, swallowing down whatever emotions he could. The mechanical clacking of the springs inside the handle was like a guillotine slowly clicking higher and higher in Izuku’s mind.
Finally, a tall man with short dirty blond hair emerged from under the threshold of the door, the same gentle smile the girl had given him earlier plastered on his face. And as if Izuku had manifested her with his thoughts alone, she followed behind the man and trailing her was her doppelganger. The woman had a similar facial structure but instead of plump, youthful skin, she adorned subtle wrinkles and her hair held the same short auburn brown hairstyle with sprinkles of gray strands.
Izuku assumed these were the girl’s parents since, well, she mentioned that she would be grabbing them and from how similar they looked.
Izuku stood when they made their way over to him, extending his hand, giving a painfully obvious nervous introduction, littered with stutters and fumbled words. A heated flush spread across his cheeks, but the older man laughed and gripped onto Izuku’s smaller hand in a firm and, honestly, crushing handshake and returned his own introduction for himself and his wife.
“And this is our daughter, Ochako. It’s fantastic to meet you, Izuku, and we’re happy you're interested in working here. Did you have a chance to finish up the application?”
Izuku recovered quickly from the handshake and handed the finished sheet over to him and gave a simple and silent nod, not wanting to repeat the embarrassing intro he was still trying to recover from. The man-made quick work of reading it over, flipping it over once to read the back. He guessed it made sense that the man could speedread so efficiently if he owned a bookstore. If he wasn’t so nervous, Izuku might have noticed the sweat forming on his forehead, but he wasn’t given the chance before Mr. Uraraka belted out a big hearty laugh.
And the panic was setting in immediately upon hearing the man’s reaction along with an ever-deepening blush of absolutely devastating shame. His mind jumped back to those ridiculously dumb questions and his even more ridiculously dumb answers. He shouldn’t have taken those questions so seriously. They were clearly joke questions. A trick to see how serious the applicant was? This was the farthest he’d made it, and he had screwed it up. His responses echoed in his head, and it just caused him to sink deeper into himself. The hot wash of embarrassment poured over him like molten glass, to cool quickly and shatter any remaining confidence he managed to hold onto into tiny, irreparable shards. He was already planning what his next step would be after he’s laughed out of the bookstore to get a head start on damage control, so he could attempt to lessen the blow of his incoming breakdown. His throat felt so dry and tight, it was getting hard to breathe. He didn’t try the other side of town, so maybe, maybe, maybe if he’s quick he can catch the next bus ov-
“You seem like you got a good head on your shoulders, kid, and a pretty good sense of humor. I have never seen someone answer these questions so… well, I don’t think anyone has. Have they, honey?” The man turned to his counterpart, who was leaning up against her husband’s arm, reading the responses and shook her head. “Usually people think it’s a joke and don’t answer them.”
“I-I didn’t really kn-know, so I j-just answered them how I would answer any other part of the application.” He looked down awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck to hopefully soothe the ever-bubbling anxieties, not really knowing how to react to the situation. He was still trying to battle off the oncoming panic attack from taking over, but with how dulcet the man’s tone was, the icy hands of fear were slowly releasing from his throat, making his breathing smoother but his hands still trembled. The outside heat seemed to finally penetrate the illusion of cozy winter days inside the store as the silence drug on.
Izuku looked up from the spot that he had been focused on to reset his brain to meet the deep brown eyes staring back at him, a pensive look thinning out the whites of the older man’s eyes. The contact was broken when Mr. Uraraka glanced over to his wife, who smiled and nodded her head. The gaze was back with a more surefire air to it.
“When can you start?”
The words left Izuku in a sudden state of shellshock. His mouth agape, bottom lip twitching, trying to even find the correct muscles to move to form the right words. So, he settled with the only noise his throat could produce, “Eh?”
“If you can start immediately, it’d work well with us.” Mr. Uraraka plainly stated, as if this wasn’t the biggest news Izuku had heard in a while. He honestly felt dizzy from the emotional turmoil he’d been dealing with for the past… well, entire day.
“A-ah! Ye-es! Yes, I can st-start whenever you need me to! Thank you s-so much, sir!” Izuku sputtered and bowed deeply at the hip, trying to show his gratitude to the best of his ability. The Urarakas laughed awkwardly and shook their heads, telling him that was unnecessary.
And just like that, Izuku had a summer job set and locked in. They spent the next hour filling out basic paperwork that was needed and went over his expected schedule. At first, the Urarakas only asked him to work about 20 hours a week, but Izuku insisted he could take on more, which, who were they to argue about the workload being lightened on their end.
Izuku learned that the couple had worked by themselves with their daughter, Ochako, working what she could after school, and with the years wearing on them and time slowly passing, they finally conceded that their age was catching up with them. That’s what led to the ‘now hiring’ sign to be posted on their door. Not too many people were interested in working in the smaller bookstore, whether it was the pay or just walking past the store without notice.
Izuku was set to start on Monday with his first morning shift, giving him one more day of freedom, which was spent how his previous week was, lazing about the house. When thoughts of the next day entered his mind, they were pushed aside and ignored with a TV show or tending to the garden in the backyard instead.
His first shift started at the reasonable time of 10 a.m., an hour before the store opened, but he arrived at 9:30, unable to sleep in, brimming with too much excitement about the change in scenery. The homey setting of the bookstore juxtaposed the bustling, non-stop atmosphere of the grocery store. Kids knocking over the display of canned vegetables he had just finished setting up transitioned to helping elderly ladies find sixty-year-old books from their childhood. Middle-aged women screaming and berating him about an expired coupon turned to the same women asking him if they carried a copy of a steamy romance novel, nervous eyes glancing around to see if they saw anyone that would recognize them.
It was different, but it felt like the right change Izuku needed before he stepped into the big shoes of adulthood. Relaxing, laid back. This was a better, more comforting environment than the grocery store could have ever provided. They didn’t even have uniforms. He was just told to show up in something reasonable and nothing over the top, which just so happened to be Izuku’s entire wardrobe. The only semblance of a uniform they expected him to wear was a black apron. He was allowed to decorate it however he saw fit.
His first two days were spent mostly with Ochako with her explaining the ropes as her parents would be in the office and backroom of the store, filling out order forms and moving boxes of new shipments. How the register works, where new arrivals go, the best way to hold a stack of books while climbing up a ladder. Izuku found himself in a hypnotic daze every time he was left alone to organize and reorganize specific sections of the store.
The change in his daily routine was nice and working alongside the Urarakas was good. They initiated conversations freely with him unlike his other coworkers and bosses, willing and ready to carry the conversation when Izuku couldn’t quite fill the silence himself. He steadily started to open up and by the end of his third day he was laughing and cutting up with the three. Now, he didn’t make a complete one-eighty, but the Urarakas gave him something no others besides his own mother had.
A sense of inclusivity. It didn’t matter if he didn’t quite catch a joke or if he made a mistake. They took their time with him and didn’t bat an eye if he wasn’t able to manage a response to what they said. He sunk into the cozy surrounding of the store, finding a rhythm faster than he had ever before.
It felt comfortable. It felt safe.
That is, until he walked into his fourth shift. The Urarakas felt that he had graduated from the basics of how the store was run and that he could handle an evening shift. When he walked in that afternoon, he was greeted with loud grunting as Ochako moved the heavy furniture away from its normal position in the lounge area.
“Oh, do you need some help with that?” He squeaked, running over to help with the other end of the hefty couch.
“Hey, Izuku. Ugh, yeah. This thing is so freaking heavy.” Together, they lifted the ends of the couch and slowly made their way to where the other furniture was positioned, clumped together against the first bookshelf.
Izuku let out a sigh and swiped his hands together as if to remove dust that wasn’t there. He felt a little guilty about how much of a sweat Ochako had worked up, clearly being left to move the furniture herself. He knew she could handle the task by herself after learning about how avidly she worked out, but just because you could do something didn’t mean it was any less exhausting.
“So, why exactly are we moving all this stuff? Are we rearranging the store?” he asked earnestly. Ochako gave him a weird look before realization set in.
“Oooh, no, no. I guess we forgot to mention this to you when you were hired on, but we do an open mic night every other Thursday,” she said as if it was obvious, loosely gesturing to where the lounge had been originally set up, “We move all the furniture, so we can set up a little stage here.”
“That’s an interesting idea. I had no idea you guys did this.” Izuku followed her towards the employees-only section, where she started to grab a microphone and stand and asked Izuku to grab the medium-sized speaker next to it.
“Yeah, business started going down during the winters, so my parents decided to do this to bring some people in. People liked it, so we kept it going even after business picked back up. They actually got the idea from some random movie. Pretty funny, huh?” Izuku gave a light chuckle in agreement.
“A little, but it’s a pretty good idea. Has it been working even in the summer?”
“Absolutely, even more so! You’ve seen how many customers we have coming in so far. We have people come in from all over the place, some people even drive like an hour away to watch and perform.”
Izuku wasn’t sure what more to say, so Ochako took over with an upbeat tone and continued explaining what all happened at the open mic nights. “It really depends on the night, but it’s mostly skits, people reading excerpts of their works, slam poetry, really whatever they wanna do.”
The conversation naturally died down into a comfortable silence as they set up metal folding chairs, each one squeaking with age as it was uncollapsed and placed in neat rows. Ochako reminisced about a couple of people from a college theater club putting on a whole comedy sketch, even going as far as bringing their own props and backdrops to really set the scene.
By the time they were set up, Izuku putting the last chair in place at the end of the last row, people were starting to make their way in. The short brunette sprung into action, putting on the same concentrated face Izuku had come to know as her work face. She talked and mingled with people as if it was second nature, asking them to fill out entry forms she had grabbed from the cubby hidden under the counter.
Izuku followed behind her like a dutiful, silent assistant, taking each form she handed to him with a small and timid smile. He may have been able to gain a sense of familiarity with the Urarakas, but talking to customers was still a struggle so Ochako happily took the reins. He read over the sheets he was given and looked over the people that had handed them in curiously. It was fascinating seeing how varying the performers were. A shy guy, who kept his head down as he handed back the form, was signing up to do a stand-up routine. A bubbly girl dressed in pastel was going to read one of the chapters of her true crime biography.
By this point, the sun was beginning to set, casting warm rays of crimson and orange to infiltrate the bay window, causing the shadow of the lonely microphone stand and speaker to stretch inward. Izuku could overhear various groups of performers and patrons discussing random topics, not being able to pick up on any one conversation. Ochako had informed him that the show would start around 6:30 p.m., which was only about twenty minutes away. As she handed out the last of the paper to another college student, she turned to him to ask if he could take the completed forms and tuck them away under the checkout counter and grab more for her.
Happy to help in any way he could manage, he ducked behind the counter, easily finding the tray he was told to put the forms in. Though the tray was easy to find, he couldn’t quite find where the papers were. With a slightly frustrated huff, he took station in front of the cubby to search through the chaotic, Uraraka-style organization underneath.
“Uh, excuse me?” Izuku yelped, taken by surprise by the unexpectedly close voice, and in this state of shock, he managed to fling himself upwards and successfully slam his head into the hardwood of the counter with a loud and impressive thump. He fell back to the ground, head clutched in his hands, attempting in whatever way he could to soothe the painful, dull ache at the top of his skull. “Oh, shit, dude. You all good?”
Izuku blinked the involuntary tears out of his vision, eyes turning up to meet a head of blindingly bright red hair, leaned over the counter to peer down at him. He rubbed the rest of the thrumming in his head away as he stood up to meet the newcomer. Well, newcomers.
He mumbled out a small ‘yes’ as he eyed the group. The redhead, now standing up straight, was about a head taller than Izuku and rivaled the ash-blond behind him, who wore a deep scowl on his face and crossed his arms over his chest. The only one of them that seemed to be a normal height was trying to get the blond’s attention, his own electric blond hair bouncing as he talked in an animated manner about something Izuku couldn’t quite keep up with.
The redhead had long, thick hair tucked away in a bun on the back of his head, and muscles that, though it was a valiant effort, the tight tank top had no chance of concealing. Though Izuku got the jest that that wasn’t the intention. The man stood over Izuku but his brain couldn’t muster up any threat of fear or intimidation from the other’s genuinely concerned face.
A booming, higher-pitched laugh from behind the towering man stole his attention. The shorter ball of sunshine was showing the other blond a video on his phone barely able to hide his mirth as it went on, intense red eyes stared at the device being shoved in his face. He gave off an air of disinterest but still kept his eyes locked on the phone.
Now that… that was what Izuku would call the very definition of intimidation. Sharp features, eyes seemingly stuck in a squint of what could only be described as disgust and detachment. But Izuku couldn’t tear his eyes from him. The ash-blond held himself in a way Izuku could never dream of. Wide shoulders drawn outwards and opened in unquestionable confidence. The constricting black shirt revealed mountainous and well-defined pecs, tight fabric wrapped around thick and rippling biceps. It made Izuku feel the need to cross his own arms over his chest, suddenly more self-conscious than ever.
His attention was taken away by the redhead letting out a long sigh of relief,“Okay, good. Got worried you gave yourself a concussion or something. We just need a fo-”
“Hey, hey! Are you new here? I’ve never seen you around before? Did you just start?” The redhead was interrupted and pushed aside with ease as the electric blond jumped in from his previous one-sided conversation. He leaned over the counter dramatically, almost as if he was trying to catch a closer look at an animal at a zoo, his wide, amber eyes shimmering with excitement revealing flecks of bright gold within the irises as he spewed question after question at Izuku.
Though he had warmed up to idle talks with the Urarakas, moments like this with customers really brought out Izuku’s inexperience at basic communication while under pressure. He found himself inching back from the excited man, brain clogged and unable to find a sentence to spill out. His hands trying to find solace, anything to ground him, as the familiar bubbling of nerves started to overflow. The heat rose up his body starting at his chest and rapidly spreading up his neck and to his cheeks as he fumbled with the hem of his apron.
“Oi, idiot, learn to read the fucking room,” the tall blond spoke from behind him, making direct eye contact with Izuku, and Izuku couldn’t bring himself to look away from him. He had never seen such intense eyes before in his life, even in the dimming light of the store those deep vermilion-colored eyes seemed to be set ablaze, as if they gave off their own glow. Staring at the man’s eyes while he looked elsewhere already left Izuku feeling wary, but with the gaze on him directly, he felt like he was being dissected and cut with each minute movement.
This was weird. Izuku was being weird, even he knew it, so he tried his best to blink his eyes in an attempt to break whatever spell he was inexplicably cast under. “U-um, yeah. Yeah, I-I started earlier this week. I-I’m really excited t-to see everyone perform for the first time. Have you gu-guys done this before?”
At this, the redhead lit up, which relieved some of the budding tension within Izuku’s head, and took the reins of the conversation again, grabbing the form from Izuku’s outstretched hand and filling it out like it was second nature as he responded, “Yeah, we’ve been coming the last few times. Always super fun. Right, guys?”
Turning his head away from the paper, the redhead looked back at the other two. The ash-blond only turned his head upwards and away, sneering and shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black joggers. “Whatever.” But the brighter blond nodded his head excitedly.
And just like that the blond walked away and out the door. Izuku followed him with his eyes targeted onto his back until the door had closed and all he could see was the reflection of the interior in the window of the door. His attention was refocused on the redhead as he spoke up again, “Sorry about him. That’s just how he is.”
“Ah, no! I-it’s fine.” The redheaded giant finished signing the bottom of the form with an animated flick of his wrist and pushed the paper across the wooden surface, one of the corners catching onto the grooves of the wooden surface, wrinkling it. Izuku held it and quickly scanned over the page.
Under the section where performers listed their names, three sets were written in chicken scratch handwriting.
‘Kirishima Eijirou’
‘Kaminari Denki’
‘Bakugou Katsuki’
A question momentarily flitted through his brain, ‘I wonder which one that guy was,’ but the thought scurried away in the back of his head when large hands lightly drummed on the counter. “Well, it was nice meeting you, man.”
“Uh, li-likewise, I look forward to hearing you all perform.” And just as soon as they arrived, they were gone. The duo moved over to mingle with some performers Izuku briefly recognized from when they submitted their form earlier. He’s pretty sure they were college students and were doing some sort of improv act.
Emerald eyes found themselves scanning the room, moving slowly over each person, ears just out of reach to distinguish between any conversation. That same feeling he felt so often returned. The feeling of complete separation. From the grocery store, from school, from shopping at the mall with his mom. Izuku watching, still and silent, as people walked past, cutting up with others like old friends, too hushed for him to feel like he was a part of something.
Something .
Again, it echoed like a hollow drum throughout his body.
Something .
His eyes glided over the people he didn’t know and would never know towards the entryway. It was a barricade Izuku never was able to overcome, a wall he was never strong enough to pull himself over, and if he could do that, the barbed wire lining the top was razor-sharp and cut deep into his mental fortitude.
And yet, his legs moved, his muscles ached as they fought back, shaking slightly from the imaginary exertion. Fingers trembled, gripping the handle of the door but halted with the vice grip on the warmed metal, heated by a day’s worth of sunshine beating down on the other side. His breath came in short, shallow huffs as his mind fought back against his body’s push to go forward.
Something .
The late summer air was humid and still torrid, even as the sun was setting, on his cooled skin from the few hours he’d spent in the air-conditioned store. A stray warm breeze drifted the strong scent of a burning cigarette to his nose as he took another deep, calming breath, and his head swiveled in the direction to see blond spikes swaying in the light gust. A hint of mahogany and lavender from an expensive-smelling cologne followed it.
The sun was slowly drifting behind the horizon, leaving a muddled mess of heated, fiery hues, creating the perfect backdrop for the man in front of him. Clouds bloomed and erupted into shades of marigold and glowing embers. The man’s pale skin acted almost like a canvas, taking on the colors and giving his exposed arms a glow of its own.
And those eyes, matching the lit end of the burning cigarette in his hand so perfectly, Izuku could barely tell if it was a reflection or if his irises really were just that starking. And then those sharp eyes were looking right back at him, but Izuku couldn’t look away. He felt like a moth to a flame, taking a shaky and timid step forward, away from the safety of the bookstore.
And then that flame was extinguished.
“What?” The ethereal illusion was shattered, and Izuku returned to being just a creep that followed a customer outside to stare at. His cheeks flared up, and his hands instinctively found themselves in a familiar pose of fidgeting and rubbing together. His eyes wandered along the ground, catching onto a trail of ants climbing in and out of a large crack in the sidewalk.
“Ah, um,” he didn’t want to but his legs carried him another step closer to the man, “I-I was wondering… what will you guys be per-performing tonight?”
His lips moved on their own, saying something he wouldn’t normally ever say or bring up with another person. He dared a glance up at the blond and found his eyebrows scrunched in a scowl and eyes piercing and almost calculating, almost as if he was sizing Izuku up. Not physically but his intentions. He couldn’t keep looking at those burning orbs that had just held so much of his attention just moments ago. He felt like a cadaver being opened and examined, every vein and muscle poked and prodded at.
“Just watch and find out.” His tone detached and uncaring as he turned his head back towards the road in front of them, dragging the cigarette back to his lips. Now, only a few feet away, he could see the other’s lips, smooth and plump. It made Izuku’s tongue dart out to lick his own, chapped and dried lips, bringing his bottom lip in to bite nervously.
“What do you want?” The blond didn’t look back to see if Izuku was even still there. “You trying to bum a smoke?” he asked, mockingly.
Izuku has never smoked a day in his life and never planned on it, but just like the rest of his body, the words fumbled out against his will. “Yeah. Um, ye-es, please.”
This got the other’s attention. He scoffed and looked over at him like he was looking down on a kid asking for a sip of beer, but nonetheless he pulled the cart from the back pocket of his sweatpants. The pack was almost completely full, but he was able to pull out one expertly without much resistance from the remaining cigarettes. Izuku reached out a shaking hand, palm facing up expectantly to take the stick from the man, but he didn’t hand it over.
A sardonic look crossed his face before he said the truth Izuku knew he couldn’t hide, even from someone who didn’t know him, “You don’t fucking smoke.”
“Y-yes, I do.” Izuku sputtered out, unconvincingly. He was never much of a liar, and it was made clear that the blond could sense that, since his immediate response was an incredulous scoff.
“I know you don’t, and you know that I know that. But hell, fine, here you go,” he tossed the cigarette and Izuku fumbled to catch it. His grip just a little too tight, and the unsturdy roll of tobacco bent slightly. “Here, I’ll even light it for you.”
Izuku stared at him for a moment but tried to keep his anxious look hidden away. The cigarette felt odd and foreign between his lips. What little moisture they were able to gain from wetting them with his saliva earlier was soaked into the paper and filter. He stared at the blond with an uncertain look, not really sure what to do, and the other man just let out another huff, borderline irritated.
He pushed himself off the brick exterior wall he had found home in and walked the few feet between the two, adroitly pulling out a black lighter and flicking it on. The flame illuminated Izuku’s face and danced in the reflection of his eyes. The paper at the end of the cigarette caught fire, a glowing ribbon wrapping itself around the thin stick.
“You gotta inhale for it to catch,” the blond all but whispered to him. He was so close to Izuku that he could feel his breath trace the heated skin of his cheeks, doing nothing to put out the fire that was ablaze under his skin. If anything it was like he poured kerosine onto Izuku and threw the lit lighter onto him.
The recurring theme of the evening took center stage, and Izuku’s body took over before his brain could keep up, taking a deep inhale without any other thought.
It burned and immediately came back up as Izuku was sent into a flurry of coughs and sputters. How do people smoke these every day? He couldn’t help but ask himself. If his cheeks weren’t already red from blushing, they definitely were now from exerting himself, seeking any sort of relief from the pain searing in his throat and lungs.
Through each convulsion of his chest, he could hear the other laughing, tossing his own finished cigarette on the ground and stomping it out with the twist of his heel.
“Enjoy your smoke break, nerd.” was the blond’s parting gift to the still-recovering greenette. Izuku felt sick from the inhalation, and it was as if his senses had returned to him now that he was no longer in the blond’s presence. He stared back at the burning ember of the end of the cigarette in disgust and disdain, a deep frown set on his features.
Crouching down, knees tucked into his chest, he carefully and delicately put out the cigarette on the cement, taking care to make sure it was no longer smoking and hot. What was he doing? This wasn’t like him at all. Did he get a boost in confidence because of how easy it’s been around the Urarakas? Did he think that just anyone would want to hold a conversation with him?
Well, it wasn’t like he could even hold a conversation himself. He stumbled and sputtered and lied to get a couple of words out to this random stranger. The sensation of hot shame and embarrassment weighed him down, his chest feeling tight and empty at the same time. Tears began to prick the edges of his eyes.
“Izuku? What are you doing out here?” He jolted up, standing completely straight, hiding the unlit cigarette behind his back like a kid being caught sneaking sweets before dinner. Ochako stood in the entranceway, head poking from behind the door.
“So-sorry, I n-needed some fresh air for a s-second.”
She gave him one of her family’s patented smiles, “I just wanted to find you, and let you know the show just got started. Head in when you’re ready.”
She left right after to give him some space, a trend he was starting to notice the Urarakas were good at picking up on. But it left a heavy reminder that not only did he probably creep out a customer, but he also just left his post in the store to do so.
He let out a long-winded sigh and shook his head, trying to steal what little nerves he had left that weren’t completely fried from that experience. Don’t think about it. Sweep it away for another day to dwell on. Giving the cigarette one more look, he tucked it into the pocket of his apron and made his way back inside.
The blast of cool air from the air conditioner within was the last thing he needed to blow away the remainders of any loose thoughts overstaying their welcome in his head. The once talkative and active crowd was replaced by only one voice coming from the speaker on the makeshift stage.
Izuku recognized the guy from when he had handed in his form earlier. He had his phone in front of his face as he spoke in a monotone voice, words scrolling in the reflection of his glasses.
He tried to listen to the performer and respect his courage for being able to talk in front of such a large crowd, but they became a sort of background noise. He kept true to what he had told himself moments ago and kept those thoughts out of his head, but now they were being replaced with white noise. He found that all he could focus on was the heavyweight of the cigarette hidden inside his apron pocket.
Hopeful glances around the room yielded no relief for the itching in the back of his head. The group of improvers that had been speaking with the blond’s friends were up to perform next. The crowd roared with laughter except for Izuku and with one more look across the crowd he finally found the blond, also not laughing.
Izuku knew his lack of mirth wasn’t for the same reason as his own, but he couldn’t help but project onto the other.
Without noticing, the next performer was up. And then the next, and the next. Izuku coasted through the evening without sparring much attention to the people that showed up to spread their heart out for the crowd and to express something from deep within themselves. He felt a twang of guilt in his chest but couldn’t give it much thought because the moment he’d been looking forward to all night was happening right in front of his eyes, whether he’d admit to himself or not.
Suddenly, finally, time was slowing back down, and his hazy brain was starting to clear out. Ochako went up and introduced the trio, and Izuku’s ears perked up immediately. Large hands gripped the adjuster of the mic stand to the perfect height as he sat down onto the backless stool set up in front of it while the redhead set up a single drum, and the shorter blond plugged in a guitar into a portable amp.
Izuku’s breath halted in his lungs as he looked on at the scene in front of him. Was he going to sing? The closest to a band he’d seen that evening was a girl playing the cello to a custom piece. While they set up, Izuku had moved into an empty chair towards the back row and found himself unintentionally moving closer and closer to the edge, leaning in to get a better look, anticipation welling in his chest.
The tall blond had set up quickly and was staring at the bottom of the mic stand, an emptiness in his eyes that Izuku had witnessed earlier when he interrupted his smoking. He wondered to himself why he looked like that, so withdrawn from his surroundings. It countered Izuku’s own hyper-awareness and fixation of the world around him.
The redhead tapped him on the shoulder as a way to signify that they were ready. With a curt nod, he leaned in and just said, “This is a new one.”
He jumped right into it, the short blond keeping up with his every word with a strum of his fingers on the taut chords of the guitar’s neck. The redhead drummed a simple tempo to keep with the lyrics.
“My brain is a god awful place, where I take these things the world gives me, and I change them into something they’re not .”
Izuku gripped tightly onto the seat of the chair, taking in every word and syllable like gospel. His flow and rhythm were spot on, not a stutter or stop to be heard that wasn’t meticulously placed. He had no expectations or inkling as to what the trio would be doing tonight, but he would have never imagined this.
Something .
This was what each shift at the grocery was missing. This was what each day at school and in classes was missing. Even what his home lacked that his time spent with the only person he trusted could fill. This buzzing in his chest and head, listening to pain so beautifully presented.
“ I’m a convict in my own brain cell and imprisonment of negative thought that I’ve brought upon myself with nothing to do but peel my skin from front to back and crack my fucking skull in half. Just so you could believe me that hell is under my hair .”
Each staccato syllable that left those lips singed and burned into Izuku’s mind as he absorbed every second of the performance. His leg bounced up and down, fighting the urge to stand up. To do what? To go where? He didn’t know.
Something .
No one sounded like this tonight. No one stuck out this much tonight. No one produced such unnerving and saddened poetry like this.
“ But I always wake up from those little death daydreams by the alarm of the ambulance, disrupting the ambiance of the deceased .”
Izuku fooled himself by thinking he could talk to someone that was able to articulate such deep feelings. But even accepting that, he couldn’t help the pull of magnetism that wouldn’t shake from him no matter how much protest his brain gave it.
“ My brain is a god awful place, and I created it myself to be a brain hell inmate. And there is no way out .”
The final words echoed out, leaving an emptiness in Izuku he had felt before after attempted conversations, after empty nights in a house by himself.
His heart pounded in his chest for a reason he had never felt before.
Something .
The blond had had his eyes closed during the entirety of his soulful confession, but now they opened as his mouth closed into a tight line and his stare returned to the ground as he stood up. The crowd had been in the same silent trance as Izuku but erupted into claps and whistles.
But they were just cheering to cheer, ignoring the melancholic blond head towards the back of the store. Izuku followed each step, long and burdened, until he disappeared into the single-stall restroom.
“What did you think of our house regulars? Pretty impressive, huh?” Ochako’s cheerful tone barely infiltrated his thoughts but still managed to shake him a bit.
“What?”
“They’ve been coming for the last few shows and are a big hit every time. Bakugou-san sure does have a way with words. Wouldn’t have thought so from looking at him, right?”
Izuku heard the words but it was so hard to digest them. He felt like he had been held underwater for too long and couldn’t really shake the dazed feeling that took over him.
“You seemed really into it. Do you want to meet the guys? Kirishima and Kaminari are super nice.” Izuku nodded empty-mindedly and followed the pull on his wrist towards the duo still putting away their equipment.
The crowd had dispersed and resembled what the beginning of the night had looked like, people separated and congratulated others on their performance.
“Hey, guys! Awesome job tonight as always.” The two perked up at the new voice and welcoming smiles spread across their faces.
“Thank you, thank you. It’s still so awesome that you guys have been able to keep this open mic night going,” the redhead responded, the blond behind him nodding in agreement.
“Yeah, it’s fun getting to play for other people instead of my cat every night.” Izuku listened but the familiar feeling of distance resurfaced. A conversation happening right in front of him that he felt too far from to join but so desperately wanted to be a part of.
“Have you guys had a chance to meet Izuku? He started earlier this week. This was actually his first open mic night ever.” Ochako gestured over to him, inviting him into their circle.
“Oh, hello again, little man. Yeah, he actually signed us in.” Even in the low-lighting of the store, the redhead’s teeth beamed into a bright and kind smile. It helped a bit to put the timid greenette at ease. He stretched out his hand for Izuku to shake, “Kirishima Eijirou.”
Izuku took the man’s outstretched hand, and his arm shook up and down with immense force in a strong handshake. “A-ah, Midoriya Izuku.”
The electric blond grabbed Izuku’s hand from Kirishima with both of his hands and moved it with a lot less intensity but still had undertones of excitement. “I’m Kaminari Denki. So, did you like it?”
“It?” Izuku responded, dumbly.
“Our performance.”
“Oh, ri-right. Absolutely, it was spectacular. Mind-blowing. You three did such an amazing job. Do you write everything yourselves?” Izuku couldn’t help the truth from coming out. He really was more than blown away. It had been mind-altering, evident by the fog that laid over Izuku’s mind throughout the entire performance.
“You can thank Bakubro for that. He writes everything himself. Even the music we play is mostly him,” Eijirou interjected, an almost parental-proudness to his statement as he moved his finger to point at himself and Kaminari.
“I didn’t know that,” Ochako spoke up, “I knew he wrote the lyrics, but I had no idea he did the music too.”
“Bakubro is a man of many talen-”
“Stop talking about me when I’m not here.” Izuku jolted a bit as a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked over his shoulder to see a chest immediately to his right. He didn’t need to look up to know it was the blond.
“Aw, come on. I’m just bragging about you a little.”
“Yeah, well, stop it. You’re a fucking embarrassment.” Even with how harsh the words were, their bite bounced off Kirishima, and he just laughed it off.
“And that’s our famous Bakugou Katsuki. He’ll never introduce himself, so I’ll do it for him.” Kaminari joined in, jokingly. The hand on his shoulder released its grasp, but its owner still stood close to Izuku.
Bakugou Katsuki, so he finally could place the name. Somehow, even knowing the other’s name didn’t make him anymore approachable. He didn’t join the conversation that the others commenced in, Ochako saying something Izuku barely registered to the duo. He seemed too into his phone, and Izuku knew better than to be even creepier than he had already been and take a glance at the screen.
The weight in his apron’s pocket returned now that the blond was standing near him. He gnawed on his bottom lip, wondering if he should do what his brain was telling him to do. Just like the rest of the evening, something about being around Bakugou seemed to expel his inhibitions, and he threw his normal anxieties out the window.
He reached into the small flap and pulled out the crumpled, partially-burnt cigarette. Holding it laid across both hands, he presented it to the blond, whose attention was ripped from his phone. His body, now turned towards the taller one, he finally looked into his eyes. He wasn’t met with the same burning embers from earlier but softer, black pupils, eyes dilated, probably from the lower lighting inside the store now that the sun had fully set. The normal lighting in the store not enough to carry the same brightness as during daylight.
“What the fuck are doing?” His tone wasn’t harsh but held a bit of cruel amusement at Izuku’s display.
“Um, I-I’m sorry for wa-wasting it,” was all Izuku could muster out, his nerves displayed front and center for the other to see. His pathetic display and budding embarrassment was punctuated by the blond’s laugh, a huff under his breath.
“I thought you were a big smoker,” Bakugou scoffed.
“I di-didn’t say that.”
“Well, you acted like it.” A sharp and cocky grin cut into Izuku.
“Just, here. Y-you can have it back.”
“Why would I want it back?” Izuku’s eyebrows scrunched, and he gave the blond an incredulous look. Again, inhibitions were a forgotten plastic bag on the side of the road.
“I-I don’t want it to go to wa-waste,” he mumbled.
Bakugou’s grin grew more playful at the back and forth banter. “Look, if you want to talk, just give me your damn phone instead of beating around the fucking bush.”
“Wh-what?!” Izuku couldn’t help the volume of his voice or the blush that crept up his neck and ears. How did he even get to that conclusion when he was just giving him back his cigarette. Maybe the blond was just better at seeing through him than he was. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to talk to him. He followed and approached him outside and waited with bated breath during his performance.
Still, he fished through the back pocket of his khaki shorts and produced his phone, handing it over to the blond with a slight tremble. He waited a moment ,but Bakugou made no attempt to open it.
“Well, are you gonna unlock it?”
“Oh, um, I do-don’t have a code on it. I-I’m afraid of forgetting my p-passcode and getting locked out of it.”
“Damn, you’re pretty trusting of others,” Bakugou scoffed but opened up the device and punched in his information into a new contact card. He tossed it back, a habit he seemed to have. He makes fun of Izuku for being too trusting, but he throws things at people with such reckless abandon like they couldn’t break or shatter.
“You know how to text, right, shorty?” he mocks.
Izuku couldn’t help the defensive tone he throws back, “Yes, I do.”
“Whatever,” Bakugou tucked the beat-up cigarette behind his ear and pivoted his body to head towards the front entrance. “Guess I’ll talk to you later, freckles.”
And just like that, he was gone, and Izuku was left in shellshock. His ears rang loudly, blocking out the noise of the remaining guests. People walked past him, but they might as well have been ghosts.
What just happened?
But he knew what had happened. Even if it was hidden deep inside the recesses of his mind, tucked under a mound of tonight’s events.
His something .
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