Izuku Midoriya. Fourteen, nearing the end of his junior high years, walked to school. Aldera Junior High, a brick building unremarkable in prestige. Despite the bullying and consistent sports day defeats, Midoriya found himself… enjoying it. He paid rapt attention in quirk and hero lessons, his ambition a bright spot in a world that told him it was impossible. He dreamed of becoming a certified hero, but the reality was stark: Izuku was quirkless.
He picked up his pace, hearing the bell as he neared the gates. A frantic dash through the halls… almost there—
“Deku!”
Shit.
A hand clamped onto his shoulder, heat blooming against his skin. He choked back a gasp and turned to face Katsuki Bakugou, towering and radiating heat.
Kacchan.
“Thought you’d be late, as usual. You’ll never be a hero if you can’t even make it to class on time.” Bakugou tightened his grip, forcing a whine from Midoriya. He merely snorted. “Not that it matters. Quirkless wannabe. Why don’t you pick a career that actually suits you… garbage man seems perfect.”
Bakugou scoffed, releasing Midoriya, who rubbed at his steaming shoulders. Midoriya was supposed to hate Bakugou, to reciprocate the animosity, but he couldn’t.
It was embarrassingly cliché, he knew it. The bully secretly crushing on his tormentor. But he couldn’t help it. The crush had started in nursery school and grown with them, a constant ache in his chest. Every shared moment, every passing glance… he cherished them all.
They’d even adopted childish nicknames: Kacchan for Katsuki, Deku for Izuku. Deku wondered, endlessly, why Bakugou had kept the name. He’d never dared ask.
“Kacchan, please, let me get to first period!” Midoriya pleaded quietly, bracing for the inevitable.
“Ha, no. I’m late too, idiot. Need an excuse.” Bakugou shoved Midoriya into the boys’ bathroom, pinning him against the wall. Midoriya fumbled with a note, his fingers trembling. This was the routine. Bakugou bullied him, and Midoriya provided the means for his truancy. Being quirkless and weak, he’d always agreed, enduring the pain to avoid worse.
Bakugou snatched the note, a smirk twisting his lips. “Thanks, nerd. Not completely useless, for once.” He turned and strode towards class, Midoriya trailing behind. Bakugou scrutinized the note.
‘To Izuku and Katsuki’s teacher,
Please excuse the boys’ late arrival. They were held up along the way, but everything is fine now.
-Inko Midoriya.’
Bakugou almost groaned. Midoriya had included himself. Clever. His mother never wrote notes, and his teacher knew a solo forgery would be obvious. But a note from Midoriya too… believable. He shook his head, annoyed by the other’s thoughtfulness.
Midoriya took his seat, keeping his gaze down.
“Midoriya? Why are your shoulders steaming?” The teacher asked, jolting him from his thoughts. Bakugou tensed, glaring at Midoriya. If the teacher discovered the truth…
“It is? Oh! I, uh, didn’t notice!” Midoriya laughed nervously, patting his shoulders. He tried to ignore the searing pain. He smiled weakly at his teacher, who rolled their eyes and resumed the lesson.
Midoriya tried to focus, but Bakugou’s gaze burned through his skull, leaving his mind blank. He could feel the heat of Bakugou's glare through his own skin. It was agonizingly wonderful. He wanted to break. He wanted to melt. He wanted Bakugou to notice him. He wanted... he wanted.