Work Text:
Izuku hums to the tune stuck in his head as he finishes typing his most recent analysis on his laptop. It’s nearly midnight, and the sun’s long gone down. The only light in his apartment save for his screen is the bright lamp on the coffee table next to him, flickering its blueish hues every now and then.
Closing up the device on his lap, he doesn’t move to get up and go to bed like he usually would. In fact, on most days, Izuku would keep on working until much later, but not tonight. Tonight, he cannot find it in himself to do so.
No matter how hard he tries, he keeps zoning off and checking his phone every five minutes, glaring when the only notification is from a pop-up email. Even now, Izuku is thinking about it, just picking up his phone, but he’s done that all day.
It doesn’t matter, he convinces himself.
So he stares ahead, at the bare walls of his lonely apartment. Well, can it really be considered ‘lonely’ if it was his choice to live alone?
After he’d graduated from the support course at UA, he hadn’t really kept in touch with… anyone, really. It doesn’t matter, though. He keeps himself busy with work, enough that he’ll stay up for days and crash on his couch from exhaustion if he has to.
But every now and then, he might get a text. Most of the time, it’s from his mother. But sometimes, someone from UA – an old friend, acquaintance – will text him, see how he is, and ask him for an item. And he doesn’t mind! It’s nice to have his skills recognized. It’s good.
In fact, Uravity had sent him an email a week ago about an item to help one of her sidekicks. She’d asked if he could get it done for the 16th, which is tomorrow, and she had asked so nicely, how could he have said no?
With a huff, Izuku rises from his comfortable spot on his couch. He lazily slips on his slippers discarded on the floor, turning them over with his foot, before making it to the kitchen. He flips on the light above the sink, squinting at the brightness.
He opens the fridge and takes out a small plastic compartment with a piece of cake inside. The thing had looked so sweet, like he would get diabetes just from one bite. He hadn’t thought about it too much when he’d bought it at the store a few days ago.
And now here he is, cake in one hand, a candle stuck between his fingers, and a lighter in the other. It feels almost silly now, celebrating his birthday. Maybe it’s because his mother had always made such a big deal out of it, even when he’d celebrated alone when he was younger, even when he had no one else to celebrate with.
Even when he didn’t think he’d make it to the next birthday.
As he opens the window leading to the fire escape stairs outside, Izuku thinks about his birthdays.
He remembers the bad ones, which honestly, had been most of them. When his mother would give him more attention than usual, but mostly look at him with pity and utter small sorrys between too-long hugs.
He remembers how, when he was much younger, when his father was still around, his parents would always fight in the kitchen when they thought he was out of earshot. He remembers glass shattering, doors slamming. He cringes at the memories.
One time, his mother had left to go on a walk in order to calm down, and Izuku had been so scared she had left for good, he had cried to his father for hours, begging him to let him go after her. When she came back, she was too exhausted to understand his distressed, and had simply kissed him goodnight and urged him to bed. The next morning, it was his birthday. The atmosphere had never been more tense.
And then he’d gone to UA, and he’d met great people. Amazing people. And one his second year, he had gone out to eat with a few close friends, albeit a little late, and Izuku hadn’t known before that birthdays could feel this nice. That they weren’t just something parents cried over.
Then the next, they had gotten him gifts! They had remembered, too, and Izuku had not just had a ‘nice time’.
He had celebrated. And he hadn’t known there was a difference before then.
But of course, all good things must come to an end. Especially good things, Izuku thinks. The bad ones always linger, somehow.
But the thing is – he’d just graduated. His celebration still felt like yesterday, and somehow like it had happened so long ago. Even on his worst birthdays, he’d always had someone, even if that was just his mother.
This is the first time Izuku is truly, utterly, and completely, alone.
It doesn’t matter. It’s fine. It’s good.
Izuku slides the window open and climbs on the fire escape. He sets down the cake next to him, and right as he sits, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket.
When he opens it to check what it is, he internally sighs as he realizes it’s just another automatic notification from his socials. He goes to close his phone, but his thumb accidentally clicks it and opens the app.
The first thing he sees, before he even has the time to do anything, is a post with many balloons and confetti emojis, with the caption going, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! All in caps and with multiple exclamation points.
Izuku feels his heart jump in his chest, only for a fraction of second, but long enough for him to think maybe people did remember, and they all happened to be too busy – they were all heroes, after all, or just working insane hours like him. Maybe they were planning something, just not today and—
But just as quickly as he’d started making up delusional scenarios, they crumble to dust as he sees a picture of Mirio Togata, a boy two years older who he’d scarcely known during his first year at UA.
Ah, that’s right. Their birthday fell on the same day. He remembers someone commenting on the fact when he was still a freshman, but he hadn’t really thought about it much since then. That is, until now.
The post in question had been made by Mina, a really kind girl but that had always been more of Kacchan’s friend than Izuku himself. And yet, she’d been there when that (small) party for Izuku had been thrown, had helped set it up, even! And although Izuku was never one much for parties, he’d really enjoyed it.
Yet, a selfish part of him can’t help but wonder if she saw Mirio more as her friend than him, despite having known Izuku the longest. Actually, he hadn’t known anyone had kept in touch with their older peers after they’d graduated.
But maybe that’s just Mina. She’s always been very outgoing, more than most people. Or at least, that’s what he would think, if not for his other friends on the picture attached to the happy birthday caption.
That has to be… Maybe almost everyone from his party last year, and then some more. No, no. Izuku’s not jealous. He’s not. It’s fine. Everyone can do what they want in their free time, and it’s not okay to expect them to remember the date of his stupid birthday. It’s selfish, and that’s the last thing he wants to be.
It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t.
So he scrolls past, just so that when he opens his phone again tomorrow, he won’t have to see it. But instead, the action has the opposite effect.
Even more pictures start to appear on his feed, from most of the people he’d met at UA, those he’d seen as friends. Still considers friends.
He falls on one of Kaminari’s post, and he sees Kacchan, looking away and looking as grumpy as ever.
Even Kacchan forgot.
It wasn’t their job to remember in the first place.
That, too, is true. Izuku can complain all he wants about never being texted by anyone after graduation, but it’s not like he makes the effort either. Sure, at first he would send quick hellos, and how are yous, but… No one started doing it to him, even after weeks.
It only took him to stop sending messages to completely stop messaging anyone.
It’s not their fault, it doesn’t matter.
Izuku scoffs to himself. Okay, he’s had one good birthday, maybe two. So now he should expect all of them to be like that? It’s so unfair. He’s unfair, and unreasonable, and selfish.
But as he keeps scrolling, he starts to wonder, why didn’t they invite him? Even if they didn’t know it was his birthday today, there’s so many people there, and Izuku had known Mirio too, even just for a little bit.
Some of them may have gone on missions with him, but Izuku’s still pretty sure some of the people he sees in the pictures are on the same level as him friendship-wise.
Maybe Izuku’s done something wrong, though. Maybe after graduation, or right before, he had messed up, or said something terrible, and they were all avoiding him. No, no. He’s insane for even thinking that, he’s not nearly special enough for people to give a second-thought about him, much less actively try to avoid him.
He is below that.
The kind that, once graduations hats are off, people forget his name, his face, his existence. Then a couple years later, they gather at a nice diner, and all of them snap their fingers and squeeze their eyes, trying to remember just who was that guy’s name again?
Maybe they just don’t care.
Maybe it’s better this way.
Maybe he’s better off alone.
Reluctantly, Izuku sets his phone down next to him and lets his head hit the brick wall behind him. His fingers are all red by now, frozen by the wind.
That’s the thing about July. The weather is unforgivably hot during the day, unlivable without proper conditioning, or at least, a few working fans. But then when night comes, everything shifts and the weather drops, and suddenly he’s taking out his winter socks again, and sweating by the time the morning comes.
Technically, Izuku could go back inside to fetch his jacket lying around somewhere in his apartment, but his mood has soured just enough that he doesn’t feel like doing anything anymore. He feels stupid for even being here.
Izuku grabs the plastic container and opens it, planting a single candle on top of it. The wind settles just slightly, but enough for him to light up the candle without worrying too much about it being immediately blown away.
With his free hand, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a small box from which he takes out a single cigarette. With the candle lit, Izuku uses the fire from its tip to light his cigarette, leaning back and taking one long drag.
“Happy birthday, Midoriya!” his friends had cheered, just exactly one year ago. Confettis popped into the air, and Izuku had almost felt bad for whoever would struggle to clean these. Almost, because he was too happy in the moment to worry.
“We wish you good health!” Yaoyorozu had told him, smiling gently as she plucked the candles from the homemade cake.
“And lots more birthdays!” Uraraka had said, and everyone had agreed.
Izuku sighs and whispers, “One less to go,” and blows out the candle.
A few seconds later, his phone dings, and the screen lights up, indicating midnight, and suddenly this day that had perhaps once been so special, is over.
Maybe if he starts to smoke as often as he had this month, he’ll die sooner and won’t have to live through too many of them.
God, he’s pathetic, he thinks as he discards the cake to the side, untouched, and sits back on the fire escape staircase, bringing his knees closer to his chest.
There’s a lot of people out tonight, even though it’s already midnight. Most of them have someone, though. A friend, a lover, there’s even a guy walking his dog. Maybe he should get one too. No, no, he can’t even take care of himself properly, the animal would be dead before Izuku even named it.
Izuku is still wrapped up in his mind, watching the people walk outside, an annoying sound in the background. It goes on for maybe a minute, getting louder until he realizes someone is knocking at his door.
Scrambling through the window and back into his apartment, Izuku nearly falls to the ground but catches himself in time to put the plastic container and his discarded cigarette on top of it on the counter before rushing to the door.
He doesn’t know what to expect when he looks through the peephole, and then nearly yanks the door open, but it certainly hadn’t been Kacchan, red tinting his cheeks.
“Kacchan,” Izuku greets, uncertain. Maybe… Afterall, maybe Kacchan didn’t… Izuku pushes the thought away, opening the door wider to fully take in his childhood friend who is leaning on the wall next to the door.
The blond in question grunts and looks away. “Listen, I know it’s kind of shitty, and I know it’s fucking late already,”—Izuku holds his breath, the corner of his lips tugging up slightly— “But I drank too much and your place was close, so can I crash on your couch or whatever?”
Izuku’s smile drops. “What?”
“Listen, y’don’t have to—”
“No! No, of course, sorry Kacchan. Here, come in,” Izuku urges him, moving to the side to let him in. Kacchan stumbles a little on the threshold, but otherwise only keeps rubbing his eyes.
As Izuku rushes to his closet to grab an extra pillow and cover, his childhood friend mumbles. “You place reeks,” he observes, like pointing out there’s rain outside to someone drenched from head to toe. “Are you smoking or some shit?”
When the green-haired man returns, he sees Kacchan at the kitchen counter, turning around the used cigarette in his fingers. Izuku ignores him and fills a glass of water before handing him to the blond.
“Here, drink this,”
“Don’t fucking ignore me you dipshit,” Kacchan slurs, but still takes the offered drink and gulps it down quickly. But then, to Izuku’s dismay, he doesn’t forget about the stupid cigarette and stares at Izuku. “So?”
“Why does it matter?” he replies with a sigh, opting to go place the pillow and blanket on the couch.
Kacchan follows after him, resting his arms on the back of the couch. “The hell is wrong with you?”
Izuku frowns and lets out a small laugh. “What do you mean?”
“You’re all… Weird, and shit,” the other explains.
“But you always say that.”
“That’s different!”
“Maybe you’ve had a little too much to drink. Here, I’ll go get you another glass of water while you get settled,”
The pro-hero narrows his eyes, but doesn’t argue further, which Izuku is grateful for. It’s not that he’s been hiding the fact he’s smoking – it’s just that he got into the habit after graduation, when suddenly he became more alone than ever, and started drowning himself in his work in order to forget everything else. And no one had really seen him enough since then to see him pluck out a cigarette.
Izuku places down the glass of water on the coffee table near the couch, noticing the blond already starting to doze off. He’s in the kitchen closing the lights and the window when Kacchan calls out his name.
“De—Izuku,” the man in question goes to say he doesn’t have to force it, an old habit he couldn’t get rid of since Kacchan had apologized for everything. There’s a moment where Izuku thinks maybe that was it, and he’s fallen asleep, but then he hears him speak up again. “That cake, was it for Mirio?” he questions, his words slurred.
Staring down at the container in his hands, Izuku wonders, if only for a brief instant, if the cake had been his, or if he’d just pretended to care for a moment, because no one else would.
The corners of his lips tug upwards into a sad smile.
“Probably,” he answers, and then he drops it into the trashcan.
It doesn’t matter.
Kacchan hums in response.
Izuku flicks off the last of the lights, heading off to his room. He ignores the mess around his apartment, avoiding stepping on forgotten pieces of equipment until he makes it to his door and stops.
“Goodnight, Kacchan,”
He doesn’t get a response.
Well, it’s not like it matters much, anyways. Or anything, really. It’s just another normal day, and if he could only just have cared a little less, it could even have been a good one.
And, as he finally slips into bed and into his covers, he shivers ever so slightly because of the wind slipping through the window he’s left wide open.
He curls into himself, quietly muffling his cries, and like every year before, and all of those to come, Izuku thinks:
Next year will be better.