Aizawa watched Izuku drink his black coffee, gazing absently out the window. The underground hero couldn't help but smirk, he looked forward to the effect beautiful, powerful, sassy Izuku would have on a pack of hormonal teenage hero wannabes.
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1...
Image heavily referenced by this shirtless Levi Ackerman picture. I could not track down the artist frustratingly, but here's the picture (you're welcome).
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Take care of yourself, my beautiful creatures, today may feel hellish, but you'll never have to live that day again. What doesn't kill you can make you ugly, but happy childhoods make for dull company and shit backstories. - Whimsy :P
———
He watched a blond young teen scream out the death sentence to the green haired boy, watched him discard the still smoking notebook and storm out the room. But he remained.
The green haired boy - Izuku - did not pick up the torn notes, he did not reach for his bag either, but rose to his feet, expressionless, empty. Bakugou watched as the young teen moved to leave the classroom almost in a trance and against his will, he was forced to follow.
Izuku did not glance at other students or teachers as he walked the halls, and they pointedly ignored him as he approached the stairwell, one even tripped him up, but the teen barely reacted, simply getting back up and continuing on. Bakugou willed him to go down, but the greenette headed up the stairs instead, hands at his sides, head lowered.
They reached the roof before Bakugou had even realised it. He had started trying to talk to Izuku back in the corridors, and now he was all out yelling, but the greenette did not even glance his way, as he neatly removed his tattered red shoes, slipping a note under the heel.
He stood on the edge of the building, letting out a deep sigh before turning to look Bakugou fully in the eyes and it was suddenly the older Izuku, his long curly hair twisting in the wind, his eyes red rimmed, yet smiling that pure smile.
"Goodbye Kaachan."
"NO!"
Bakugou sat straight up, panting, his hair slicked to his forehead and covered in sweat.
Looking at the time it was barely past 11:00 pm, and he wasn't going back to sleep any time soon. He got out of bed and changed distractedly into the first clothes he found, treading quietly across the hall to wash his face before climbing out his bedroom window and shinning down the old cherry tree in the front garden. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he focused on his breathing like Hound Dog had showed him, as he strode down the pavement.
The year before Izuku had come back into his life...had been tough. He'd been sure that Izuku had committed suicide because of him and been wracked with guilt and crushed by conflicting denial and shame.
When he'd finally plucked up the courage to visit Izuku's house a month after the teen's disappearance, a stranger had answered the door, and his desperate research had found no trace of either Midoriyas, dead or alive.
