Chapter Text
Izuku recalled a faint feeling of deja vu, like he had already woken up from being unconscious various times before his heavy eyelids would close once again. He doesn’t move, hoping the world will stop. He hopes he’ll wake up in his dorm room, the AC cranked to a cool sixty-four degrees Fahrenheit, smothered in blankets as Shoto’s alarm blares in the background. Instead, rays of light hit the back of his retina, and his world opened to see Deadpool covered in his own blood, masterfully hidden by his red suit. He wondered whether he should curse his Spiderman healing or not. Izuku wanted to be alive; he simply wished he could have slept a little longer before having to fight another drug enhanced villain.
“You know who should be here? Spiderman. Yeah, the guy who’s good at keeping people safe. Too bad I told him to take a damn break, huh? Should’ve figured I’d only be good for taking lives.”
If Izuku had enough strength or coherence, and it didn’t reveal his secret identity, he’d argue that Deadpool is great at a lot of things other than murder. Sure, as Spiderman, he could save a lot more people from preventing destruction in the first place, but Deadpool was much more skilled in offensive techniques. And Izuku had more weaknesses in comparison. Together they could practically be unstoppable working together.
Izuku knew how persistent Deadpool was. He could remember countless times before they teamed up together where he was forced to babysit Deadpool.
He scolded himself for his past thoughts of longing rest. How could Deadpool be in the city saving people, saving him, while Izuku laid silent in their weeping world? With destruction like today, Deadpool needed him. He had to get free and away from civilians so he could get his suit on no matter the cost of his injuries.
Deadpool struggled to free him, and Izuku rasped. “Deadpool?”
The vigilante stumbled, "You’ve gotta be kidding me," he choked out, a shaky laugh slipping past his lips, surprised Izuku was capable of speaking. "You really just decided to come back from the dead, huh?"
“-what’s happening?” Izuku knew his lungs were fucked when his words were scarce and his breathing fleeting.
“Yeah, how about we save the talking for when your ribs aren’t trying to stab your lungs, huh kid?” He scolded gently.
In his drowsiness, Deadpool's ‘kid’ pet name reminded Izuku that he wasn’t Spiderman right now. He was just an ordinary civilian forced to conceal any hint of his vigilante double-life. Izuku didn’t know if his heart ached because he couldn’t reach out, or because he was internally bleeding to hell.
“Alright, buddy, bad news first: you’re kinda wrecked. Like, “I’m gonna have to call out of class” for this kind of wreckage. But the good news? I’m getting you out.”
If Izuku had more energy, he’d roll his eyes. Maybe he needed to brief Deadpool on proper public media prepping or customer service because honestly? He sucked. Izuku would have laughed if the movement didn’t threaten to puncture his lungs. He was totally going to find a way to tease Deadpool about this. I mean, who starts with the bad news when someone is actively dying?
He had little time for thoughts though, as Deadpool crushed the plastic seat, and Izuku felt his body gently slide from its position. He was useless in this ordeal, unable to help in any way when his seatbelt prevented him from freedom.
Izuku admired Deadpool’s knife as it glided through like butter against the belt. He heard every fabric strand rip from its other half. His head nestled itself against the crimson suit, caramel wafting to his senses. It proved to comfort him, reminding him of Katsuki. The embrace was cut short as he was lifted by medics into a truck they had rushed towards him.
“Can you take a deep breath for me kid?” One medic asked. Izuku tried and was met with the same sharp pain and his lack of air. “No? Okay just keep it slow then.”
They gently lifted his head and applied an oxygen mask.
“You’ll feel a small prick now, honey, we need to administer some fluids to prevent shock,” with the adrenaline, he hardly felt it. “Do you know what blood type you are? We need to start a blood transfusion.”
Speaking wasn’t nearly as hard with the oxygen mask, but his answer still sounded hoarse, “O positive.”
“Okay, you’re doing great sweetie.” He watched as the bag was leveraged on its hook, the liquid slowly crawling down the tube. It almost distracted from the two medics starting to bicker back and forth.
“There are too many injured civilians in the aftermath, how are we supposed to support every one?”
“We’ll leave the kid here for now and start a search and rescue until the Fire Department can arrive. We can administer treatment on site.”
“We can’t leave him here! Protocol states he must remain under supervision until hospitalized.”
“Yeah, and that protocol was created twenty years ago before villain attacks were as frequent as the flu in February. Do you want to save a life?” The other medic nodded. “Then we’ll start a search and rescue check.”
He could feel his heartrate quicken with every word. Is this how the medical profession changed after continuous villain attacks? It only lit a fire in Izuku more, this city needed him.
Once they both agreed, they turned to Izuku. “You’re stable enough for now. We’re understaffed with every injured civilian. If you need anything, have your friend get us urgently.”
Izuku nodded, just realizing Shoto was by his side, their bags obtained from the wrecked car. He let his eyelids drift closed for a moment, maybe a few before his adrenaline picked up again. He almost allowed himself to rest. Sadly, a couple minutes was all he could take. His stabilized condition was a sign to depart. It would be bizarre to the nurses, but he had to help Deadpool.
He slowly sat up accompanied by a soaring pain as if his crushed ribs were scraping every nook internally, his breathing labored. The paramedics were further away focused on other patients, and the crisis of ambulance sirens and screams provided the perfect cover to escape.
“What’re you doing, Izuku?” Shoto inquired, a worrying expression accompanying his question.
He willed his voice to strengthen, praying for something better than a frayed tone, “I need to help Deadpool.” He reached to remove his mask.
“Like hell you do! Your oxygen saturation is shit. You can hardly breathe without puncturing a lung. You need to rest.”
“Shoto, I-”
“No.” He was firm, his voice unwavering. “How many times have you sacrificed your own well-being without a single thought? I was there, Izuku, for all of it! Have you ever stopped to think about the consequences of that?” Tears welled in his eyes now. “Do you know how many nauseous nights I’ve had waiting for you to return safely?! Or the days you’ve patrolled, and I’ve desperately searched the news for any information on your wellbeing?”
There was an absent silence, then softly, “I understand, but I have no other choice. Without my interference the drug enhancers, robbery, political corruption would be uncontained.” His heart monitor spiked, an already high 133 bpm reaching 147 bpm. “What am I supposed to do!”
Shoto's face darkened with anger, a glare he had never witnessed before. It made Izuku’s heart ache.
“Be selfish for once! Just once. I can’t keep watching you break yourself without an ounce of self-preservation! Every time you try to save this city it’s just a reminder of how fucked it is, a reminder of how it doesn’t want to be saved. I won’t watch you kill yourself for a lost cause. I refuse to, Izuku!”
He ripped the IVs from his arm, his blood staining like crimson tears. His monitor crashed the moment he pulled the sensors from his chest. It didn’t matter if Shoto thought his city wasn’t worth saving. He had to try. All he could do was try, damnit.
Because children dawn Spiderman masks for Halloween, hoping to be half as brave as their favorite vigilante.
Because in Central Park he stopped a crooked man from abducting a little girl wondering a bit too far from her parents.
Because a neighborhood pharmacy near Stuyvesant Town Fountain was frequently robbed due to narcotic substance abuse and he responded instantly, saving the workers.
Because AFO was still out there, threatening any civilians they could experiment with. Or killing medical researchers for a darker purpose.
Because without vigilantes, more civilians would be injured. The unassuming taxi he was just in, and tens of other vehicles, were now disheveled in the road. No one was there to save them like Deadpool had saved him.
Because without a vigilante to stop the rampant crime rate in New York, the medical system would be bound with tens of thousands of wounded patients.
Because the police were corrupt, and if Spiderman didn’t fight for his people, nobody would. How many children were waiting at home for their parents? How many were about to turn on the TV to see news of their parents' potential death? His injury could be easily cured with time, but the same wasn’t true for civilians. For them, it meant taking months of medical leave to recover. How could that jeopardize their finances? Their chronic health? No one would care for the abducted children or the pharmacy employees, or the civilians drugged without consent. Someone had to get up, even with crushed ribs and fleeting breath, and save them. Someone had to try.
The city wants to be saved. It just needs his help.
“Then don’t watch me.” Izuku said, grabbing the bag containing his suit. His enhanced hearing heard the broken breath and his senses noticed the shake in Shoto’s hands. His chest hurt, but it wasn’t due to his ribs. His heart throbbed. Shoto said he needed to be selfish. In some sick, twisted way, Izuku would say he has been all along. His convictions always came first.
“Don’t turn on the news. Don’t wait by the door. Don’t look for updates. Just-” he coughed for air and felt a thousand fingernails scratching down his lungs, “close your eyes when I go.”
The weight of silence fell upon them. What a shame such responsibility fell to someone who wasn’t ready to bear it, but had too big a heart to object.
He stepped down from the ambulance, watching smoke fill the skyline as it turned into a muddy sunset. He ignored his pain, pushing it down and replacing it with adrenaline. Izuku buried it under his responsibilities and spider senses. He could rest when he was dead. But now? He needed to find coverage to change into his suit.
In his absence, only Shoto remained, eyes closed and welling with tears.
His hand trembled as he fired a web towards the next building, nursing his bleeding side in the process. On his way over, he stopped a few times to save civilians from positions the firefighters couldn’t. He could see Deadpool fighting ahead, surrounded by fire that had erupted from the drug enhanced man.
One thing in particular worried Izuku. It wasn’t his crushed ribs or even the destruction that had occurred. It had probably been ten minutes since his conversation with Shoto, and another ten since the accident. And still, the drug’s effect was ongoing. Was it a higher dose? Could they have developed an extended release version utilizing liposomes or vesicles?
It was possible.
Or, perhaps, the injection was provided deeper into the muscle for a gradual absorption. For that to be successful, however, it would be unlikely for the victim to be a random civilian due to the difficulties of the injection. This was an associate, a willing participant. That was dangerous.
Through the fire Izuku saw them. The assailant was unrecognizable, his body distorted to an unhuman appearance. There was a night and day difference. Like the difference between looking at healthy, beautiful clear cells under a microscope, and deformed cancer cells. Key characteristics were divergent, like cancer cells growing on plastic versus the delicate conditions that human cells require to sustain life.
Despite the wounds Deadpool seemed to inflict, the attacker was still evidently imbued with strength and an unhuman agility for his build. And his vigilante grew exhausted after minutes of continuous battle.
“Deadpool, oh how I’ve admired you! Your skills don’t disappoint" He heard through the sizzling of the flames. He watched as they were dueling sword to sword. “You gave me the courage to free myself. To live another day over their graves! And now? I want the entire world to see what I can do. To see me, just like you!”
“It should never have been that way, Aoyama.” Deadpool huffed as the sound of clanging metal rang through, he was on the defensive. “I still want revenge, the urge to is crushing. I still remember everything they did to me, I still want to see their blood spill from my hands. To find comfort in all the pain they’ve caused me. But the whole world, the civilians? They don’t have to die from my selfishness. They don’t have to feel the same suffering I do.”
He could tell that Deadpool was only trying to delay the effects of the drug, but these efforts seemed fleeting. It had already been so long since this rampage began. His energy seemed unending too, every counterattack meeting Deadpool's with accuracy.
As Spiderman, Izuku knew the strength Deadpool held. His tactical brilliance and unpredictable actions were unique to him alone. He could easily defeat an enhanced villain if he pleased. He was holding back, taking his emotions by the reins and not allowing them to dictate his actions; to trap him. But he wasn’t used to this style of fighting, to holding back. It was evident he was trying to stall for as long as he could, but he didn’t have endless energy.
Izuku was waiting, observing to find the perfect moment to interject into the battle.
“What’s wrong with you Deadpool?! Don’t you see, all of society failed us!” Aoyama’s blade cut an impression into Deadpool’s shoulder. “You were the only person supporting me! Everyone watched me suffer and now that I have the power, I want to watch them suffer too.”
“Only the guilty should be persecuted!” Deadpool yelled with a grunt during the exchange. The pressure of attacks forced blood to pour slowly from his wound.
“You’re abandoning ideals that made you untouchable!” Aoyama bellowed, knocking Deadpool back from a forceful ram. He swung his sword high, then forcefully drove it down,“If these are your beliefs, die from them-”
Now. Izuku slung into the ring of fire, a thin web circling Aoyama’s sword and staining to redirect it away from the vigilante. “Sorry to interrupt your monologue, but it looks like your new babysitter just arrived, Aoyama!”
“Who the hell are you?!” He tried to whip the webs off, but it was a useless pursuit. Deadpool darted away quickly, seemingly tense from the attempt on his life.
He continued to tether the webs to his beck and call, strengthening his hold by reinforcing another sling of webs. “Oh, just your friendly neighborhood Spiderman tasked to clean up after revengeful vigilantes! Ask Deadpool!”
His distraction gave enough time for Deadpool to find his footing and regain control of his swords, and the vigilante scoffed at his joke. Spiderman met beside him, using the momentum of his movement to force the blade from Aoyama’s grasp. It went flying into the adjacent destroyed building far from his reach.
“You’re supposed to be on bedrest,” then Deadpool quickly gazed over Izuku’s wounds before Aoyama regained his perspective. “What the hell happened to you?”
“It’s a long story,” he sighed jokingly, “if you need a bedtime story I’ll tell you about it later.”
“Don’t get this shit trending on twitter-”
He was cut off by their approaching assassin beckoning for a fist fight with immense rage.
“All you, Deadpool!” Izuku yelled, propelling his webs away to higher ground. Fist fights were not Izuku’s strong suit, especially in his current state.
From above, he applied compression to his still hemorrhaging side and watched as the vigilante fought with fury, agilely dodging heavy-handed fists. Izuku sniped him from above, slinging objects at opportune moments to catch Aoyama off-guard and promote an advantage to Deadpool. His muscles strained against the weight, but he persevered. It was allowing Deadpool to get a few cuts with his switchblade.
“I understand your anger, Aoyama! Society is flawed, blemished, it doesn’t always protect those who need it most. I know what it’s like to be bullied. I too felt so small, like I was nothing while everyone watched me shrink. But there are other ways to change the broken system! Hurting people only constructs the same world you hate.” Izuku called out. He wanted to try a potentially hopeless pursuit to convince Aoyama to peacefully stop. As influential as violence is when standing up to oppressors, it would only continue the same loop of brutality. There was always another way, despite the struggle it takes.
It was like a non-spontaneous reaction that required the coupling of hundreds of ATP to occur. It takes a huge amount of energy to sponsor societal change. How much energy would be expended and used before change occurred? There was a doubtful voice inside of him; The part of him that felt small. The part that felt used. The part embodying ADP. But even ADP could be phosphorylated again. Even a strained effort could be renewed again.
Eventually it would occur. Izuku would make sure of it, one way or another.
“Will you be able to hold back when I snap Spiderman’s neck in two?”
There was absolutely no reasoning with Aoyama.
“Like hell I’d let you!” His once encouraging moral message was slipping as Aoyama seemed further away from change. “Don’t you fucking touch him.”
His analysis from earlier allowed him to notice a few technical errors on Aoyama’s part. He had a strong right swing from his dominant hand, an attack sure to put anyone out of commission for a while, but it had a weakness too. He was over-compensating, an opening left in its wake.
“Deadpool his dominant hand overextends! Strike his blind spot!”
His body was giving out, exhaustion creeping in. But his mind? That was still sharp.
Deadpool adjusted to his demands with ease, focusing on the tactful information provided. It gave him an advantage temporarily until Aoyama adjusted. With his convictions set, they could pivot towards apprehending him in any form necessary, a strategy not typically used when fighting the enhanced civilians.
They never consented to being exploited by AFO. Aoyama did. Experimentally, Izuku webbed his leg, stopping him in place as he flailed. If they could detain him, maybe the effects would eventually wear off.
Webs sprung to contain Aoyama’s arms and suddenly he was flying, launched from his own creation into the side of a disheveled car. Air escaped his lungs; wheezing breaths not purchasing enough oxygen. He's coughing involuntarily, every shutter burning his lungs. His vision blurs as he suffocates. Izuku was really tired of automobiles today.
“Spiderman!”
It was all too shallow, his breathing and vision fading in and out. Adrenaline could only take him so far, like a sugar rush burnt out after a singular task. He couldn’t offer much verbal objection as a fist yanked his hair, dangling him from the scalp. His teeth clenched from the pain erupting throughout his entire body. He felt like he was dying for the second time today. Maybe he was.
“Not so vocal now,” he conceited. His blade raised in his other hand and attention turned to Deadpool. Through exhausted eyelids Izuku met Deadpool's gaze. It was full of rage. “Your precious Spiderman here in the flesh! It looks like he took quite a beating today for all these civilians. If you want to keep him alive, you’ll have to persecute the guilty!”
“Aoyama-”
“Persecute me, Deadpool! Take revenge for his suffering! Let it fuel you. Show me your disregarded restraint! Show me the person I used to admire!”
Deadpool approached with his blade, hands shaking, “You’re right, maybe I haven’t changed. Maybe I want to slowly watch you bleed out by my blades, just like everyone else related to AFO…”
Izuku felt silent tears stain his mask, too tired to sob, too ragged to fight. Scared to witness the death of their opponent, but too scared to close his eyes in case he’d never open them again. Aoyama needed psychological counseling, not death. He needed a hero, not a vigilante.
Deadpool raised his sword, the length hovering near Aoyama’s neck, the point beginning to embed itself in his throat, “...but you’re not guilty enough to earn that fate. Not when he's watching.”
Deadpool’s blade is sharp enough to slice his arm off clean, blood profusely spilling from the appendage with a spine-chilling scream. Izuku felt his embrace as gentle as before in the taxi.
“Web him, Spiderman, now!”
His fear took control, and he relentlessly continued until his shaking anxiety wore off. It wasn’t until he felt safe again. A trapped Aoyama danced with the stars filling Izuku’s vision. They just had to wait for the police to show up and arrest him.
“It’s okay Spidey, we got him.” He comforted after carrying Izuku further from the villain.
Deadpool looked at him completely this time, his body language and tone portraying his alarm. Izuku’s suit hid most of it, but not from Deadpool. He knew. It wasn’t something you could hide from someone who also knew what broken ribs felt like. Then, softer, “You’re bleeding through your suit, Spidey.”
“I’m fine,” He whispered out, his breathing almost non-existent. He was lying and Deadpool knew it. He felt ashamed for trying to dismiss himself, but he still wasn’t comfortable going to the hospital unconscious. If anyone knew his secret identity, his life was over. He’d put any close friends and family at risk and possibly ruin any chance of future education or a career.
He could be murdered in his sleep, and never wake up. It was already something he had nightmares about. That or finding his loved ones brutally murdered over the news.
“You’re full of shit,” Deadpool cursed. “You don’t get to die for this city,” he muttered, something raw leaking through. I guess he thinks I’m dying too. He grasped Izuku’s face, “not when you’re the only thing in it that still feels human.”
“Then don’t let me.”
Deadpool sighed, “You need immediate medical attention.”
Izuku flinched, panic flooding his body as he gasped for air to protest, “No! I’m fine, I can heal from this! I can-” he coughed to replenish his breath, “-already feel myself recovering!”
He was so full of shit.
“This isn’t something you can regenerate from-”
“I won’t! Not unless you come with me,” he's shaking. Izuku wonders if it’s due to his spider metabolism that he feels so cold. He can hardly keep his eyes open. He struggles to explain himself with borrowed time. “If they take my mask off, I’m done. AFO will target me until I’m dead or used for their unethical experiments. At least if you’re there, you’ll stop them.”
Deadpool sighed after contemplation. “Calm down, I understand. I’ll go with you if it keeps you from bleeding out on my couch.”
Izuku rolled his eyes with what little spirit he could muster.. His spider senses notified him of the incoming law enforcement and ambulances.
“I won’t let a single person lay a hand on your mask.”
For now, Izuku could rest. Really rest.
But his organic chemistry exam was next week so he wouldn’t be resting much at all.
Beep
Something soft seemed to rub his arm in slow motions. Izuku felt warm, a gentle weight resting atop his body.
Beep
His chest felt light, a hacking wet cough no longer present with every inhale.
Beep
He remembered fading in and out of consciousness. An alarming blare of noise and dismayed yelling seemed like a nightmare at the time. He recalled Deadpool arguing, threatening to fight someone. Door after door passing by his vision.
Beep
Izuku jolted in a panic, quickly reaching towards his face. He felt skin where fabric should have been. Tubes lodged in his nose that gave the false impression of easy breathing. Then, he was hyperventilating.
“Woah, breathe Spide-”
Deadpool was beside his bed illustrated in the early morning light.
“My mask-”
“Man that anesthesia must’ve been strong,” he muttered under his breath, “It was only pulled over your nose Spiderman.”
He reached up further and felt his familiar textile. He took a deep breath. “Anesthesia? What happened?”
“You needed surgery to correct your fractured ribs. Fragments of your bone caused lesions resulting in internal bleeding.” Deadpool sat back in his chair. “They weren’t sure how your regeneration would impact the process…if they’d cut you open and race against premature repair before they got to the root of your bleeding. They had to give you a massive dose of anesthesia in order for it to work properly, and it seemed your regeneration slowed under its effect, allowing them to continue.”
Anesthesia impaired his regeneration? That was good to know but also frightening. Could these healthcare providers keep this secret, a huge weakness of his?
“I- I remember you arguing with someone, was that real or?”
“Yeah,” he huffed. “When we first arrived here from the ambulance they weren’t comfortable working with your regeneration. They kept claiming that no doctor has ever worked with something like that before. They waited to see if you’d naturally recover while supporting your body with blood transfusions and fluids. I really thought you were going to pull it off.”
Izuku was suddenly hyper aware of the IV in his arm and felt the transfer of a cold liquid in his veins.
“I didn’t even know what was happening at the time. Your heart monitor just started going to shit and nurses were running around trying to collect doctors. They needed to transfer you for surgery and I gave them hell to stay with you like I promised.”
No longer distracted from all his panic, Izuku ascertained Deadpool’s appearance. His outfit was similar to the day of the bank incident, a band shirt and black barrel jeans replacing his suit all except for the mask. Izuku thought he had a similar fashion-style to Katsuki. As if in solidarity, his was also lifted above the nose.
His nook had various books piled onto an end table next to his bedside chair. It looked like the nurses had brought lunch for the day as well. Based on the disordered entropy of Deadpool’s corner, Izuku assumed it had been a while since he was first admitted. He was afraid to know how long.
Somewhere within that stack was a spine that read the same edition organic chemistry book as his. On top was an identical review worksheet half completed. Of course, Izuku was too drugged and unaware to notice.
“Thank you,” Izuku held his gaze. He hoped Deadpool understood his appreciation. He would have died otherwise. He let that thought sink in. He hated that Shoto was right.
In the end it didn’t matter. Izuku never had a choice.
“What time is it?” Then, he asked sheepishly. “Did my guy in the chair call?”
“It’s Sunday afternoon. We’ve been here since Friday night,” then he gestured to Izuku’s phone beside his bed, “and nobody has called you since then. I didn’t look at your text messages for privacy but maybe he did there?”
Izuku sighed. Were his convictions worth it? Worth losing a best friend over? Worth dying for?
Many would argue no. With his spiderman mask still covering half of his identity, he couldn’t possibly answer those questions.
“I’m assuming radio silence is abnormal?”
“We got into a disagreement before I came to help Friday.”
“Sounds like more than a little disagreement if you’re being ghosted while in the hospital,” Deadpool offered him a pack of crackers from lunch. “Is that why you were injured already when you showed up? Your computer nerd beat you up before?”
Izuku chuckled at Deadpool’s attempt to cheer him up. “When Aoyama first attacked, I was one of the civilians damaged in the aftermath. Once I was stabilized by medics, I knew I needed to help you-”
“But you were seriously wounded and your friend was worried about you and your sacrificial tendencies?”
“Sacrificial tendencies?!”
“Spidey, this is the second time within the past week I’ve been involved in resuscitating you from death, I’d call that sacrificial tendencies.” He sat further back in his seat. Izuku noticed his calloused hands were still resting on his arm.
“Pft, whatever.” He grumbled, reluctant. He couldn’t tell Deadpool what he actually said to Shoto, or he’d probably be lectured worse. This wasn’t something Deadpool could understand, but he tried explaining it anyway. “I can’t sit by and watch as the world burns.”
“Even if it means jumping into it unprepared and getting singed?”
Izuku nodded.
“You’re making my job of keeping you alive so difficult,” he groaned.
Later that evening Izuku was discharged from the hospital with a handful of prescriptions they cautioned might not even work with his regeneration. Deadpool stayed the entire time, his chaotic nature adored, before they split. He continued his pursuit to Yuuei, his heart heavier than usual.
He wanted to find Shoto. He wanted to apologize, to compromise and ensure his ability to serve while retaining his survival. As he scaled up the side of his dorm and crawled through the window, he halted cold by the emptiness of the room.
His chest tightened, his throat embodying a bittersweet scratchiness as he felt a small wavering cry escape. Shoto’s bed was as bare as it was before he moved in after summer, a stiff navy mattress and a frame as the only remains. His PC was absent and his coding notes no longer sprawled across his abandoned desk.
While Izuku was fighting and healing over the weekend, Shoto had moved out.
Tears welled in his eyes. He scrambled for his phone and checked for some form of a goodbye. Nothing. He contemplated messaging Shoto before doubling back and deleting the draft. Could he ever really compromise in a way that would satisfy Shoto? Would it ever really protect his peace? His want to bridge the distance gnawed at him, but that layer of protection was the only solace he could offer Shoto.
He’d trade proximity for restraint.
He stared at the vacant space as he leaned against his bed, the consequences of his convictions making themselves known.
He glanced at other notifications, shocked at the magnitude of messages he had received since Friday. He opened Katsuki’s which stated, “Holy shit, I saw the news, are you okay?! Please respond as soon as you can.” Or Ochaco’s, “I’m so scared, I seriously hope you’re doing okay! Text me when you can please!!”
The news? He opened his computer and went to Yuuei’s News Network to see a report about the attack over the weekend. On the front cover were images of them fighting Aoyama, destruction caused by the villain, and Izuku being cradled out of a disheveled taxi by Deadpool.
Holy shit.
He went to Twitter and saw Deadpool trending with commentary praising how he handled the situation. Almost every tweet featured his withered body curled up in the vigilante’s arms.
Izuku was not taking that organic chemistry exam Wednesday. Not when the entire world thought he was dead.