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Assistant: Title: right where you left me
        Author: hazeleyeddreams hazeleyeddreams 
        Chapter: 2/10 
        Summary: Seven years after the final war, everyone has drifted in different directions, and Izuku Midoriya, settled into his new life as a teacher at UA, struggles to adjust to feeling left out from the rest of his friends. One day, when Kacchan brings him lunch in his classroom, everything changes, and through their renewed friendship, Izuku fights to feel okay again.- or -Izuku Midoriya drunkenly tells Katsuki Bakugou at a class reunion that he’s lonely, and he takes it upon himself to fix the problem.
        Contents: Chapter 2
    

    


      
        
          
          (See the end of the chapter for  notes.)
          
      
  

  
  
    
    
  Feeling just a 
  
    little
  
   called out by having a messy office, Izuku stays after class to clean it, if you count shuffling papers into a drawer cleaning. (He does, Kacchan wouldn’t). He needs a shower, wants a nap, and barely remembers on his walk out of the building that there’s a staff dinner tonight.

  He debates skipping, but there’s only so much social interaction he gets with real adults in a day, and besides, he doesn’t get to see his fellow teachers often. They’re all busy, with their own classes, their own lives, the only times he really sees them is in the hallway or during training exercises, the latter requiring full focus and not really leaving much time to chat. He’s one of the few teachers that has chosen to live on campus, the rest either married or busy, choosing to have 
  
    outside lives,
  
   something that sounds too good to be true.

  
    You don’t need an outside life,
  
   Izuku reminds himself as he trudges into the administration building. 
  
    You like your life here.
  

  He does.

  But it was good to see Kacchan today, good to see the gang last night. To lay his head in Mina’s lap and tell her all his stories as she laughed, to take Denki’s hand and let himself be pulled onto the dance floor, to lean against Kacchan’s arms and feel home, even if for just a minute. 

  
    Enough.
  

  Dinner is good, although quiet. Izuku is usually a big contributor towards the conversation, but he’s having none of it tonight, his head still dizzy from the night before and body thoroughly 
  
    worn out.
  
   He picks at his food, letting the chatter and usual school gossip wash over him. Maybe he really shouldn’t have come.

  Even here, he’s an outsider. He’s the youngest teacher at UA, something no one else seems to mind, but something that gets to him nonetheless. Not only that, everyone else on staff either is a pro hero, or has served as one at some capacity. Some, like Aizawa and All Might, are long since retired, but their contributions to hero society are impossible to overlook. 

  And then there’s Izuku Midoriya. Young, quirkless, and set apart from the rest.

  “I heard Dynamight stopped by today.”

  The words are enough to rip him from his trace, his head snapping up to find All Might addressing him. “He did,” he says, stifling a smile. He did. It was good.

  “Oh, how is he?” Hizashi chimes in, eagerly leaning forward in his chair. “It’s been a while since we’ve seen him. He’s what, number seventeen on the hero charts now?”

  “Nineteen,” Aizawa corrects. Hizashi smacks him on the shoulder, and Izuku watches his former teacher bat his hands away with a casual playfulness he can’t help but smile at. He hadn’t seen this side of them while he was a student, and since becoming a teacher, he’d always wondered how long they’d been together. 

  They wouldn’t tell him.

  “He’s good,” Izuku offers, taking another bite of his rice, hoping to avoid more questions. They don’t need to know 
  
    why
  
   Kacchan came by, that the real reason was because he was 
  
    drunk out of his mind
  
   last night, spewing embarrassing b@llsh@t.

  Aizawa’s brows tighten, noticing his silence. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pry, one of Izuku’s favorite things about him but he can feel him watching closely the rest of the dinner. When Izuku reaches his fill and decides to leave, he follows him to the door, asking to speak with him in the hallway.

  He prepares himself for an onslaught of questions, just for Aizawa to lean against the wall and stare softly at him, asking just, “Are you okay, Midoriya?”

  “Fine.” His voice is tighter than he intended, and he takes a long breath, letting his shoulders relax. “Just, tired.”

  “Did you go out with the old class last night?”

  “Yeah.” Izuku winces. “Is it that obvious?”

  A thin smile crosses his lips. “You still have the same look, when you’re trying to hide a hangover. You never were very good at it.”

  “I got away with it a dozen times my third year!” he sputters. “So did Denki and Eijirou, and they were way worse than me!”

  “I always knew,” his former teacher laughs. “But how was it, seeing everyone?”

  Izuku shrugs. “Good.” Same answer he’s always given.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  
    No.
  

  “Yeah. Just…tired.”

  Aizawa watches him for a minute before continuing. “I may not be your teacher anymore, but you can always tell me anything.”

  He’s too tired for this. Izuku drags a hand through frizzy green curls before shrugging. “I’m lonely, but that’s usual. Don’t belong here, don’t belong out there with them.” 
  
    Story of my life.
  

  “You do belong here.”

  “I guess.” 

  Aizawa gently taps the eyepatch over his right eye. “You’re not the only teacher here without a quirk anymore, Midoriya.”

  He knows that, 
  
    he does,
  
   but it doesn’t change the gnawing feeling in his stomach. “I’m the only one who hasn’t served as a pro,” he points out.

  “You saved the world. Doesn’t that count?” Aizawa takes a step towards him, settling a strong hand on his shoulder. “You’re more a pro than the rest of us.”

  As much as Izuku appreciates the gesture, it still does little to ease the aching in his heart. “Thanks,” he says. “I think I just need to go to bed.” It’s not entirely a lie.

  “Okay,” Aizawa relents, lifting the hand from his shoulder. “I mean it, though.”

  Izuku knows he does, but somehow, that doesn’t make it any easier.
 
  The moment he’s back in his room, he’s tucked in bed, all the lights turned off, diving under his covers with his phone, doomscrolling to avoid facing a single additional feeling. He’s had enough of the emotions for today, his headache still raging, the loneliness still tormenting him. Nope. No more thoughts. Done.

  Eventually, every social media app runs dry, and Izuku tosses his phone onto his nightstand with a sigh. Stupid loneliness, stupid 
  
    yearning for more.
  
   He’s happy with his life, he loves his job, he loves his friends, he shouldn’t feel like this. 

  His phone buzzes. He thought he’d silenced it. Izuku grabs it out of habit, wincing at the bright light and finding a new message.
 
  [KatsukiBakugou, 9:43pm]

  coffee tomorrow?
 
  He responds instantly, without even having to think about it.

  [IzukuMidoriya, 9:44pm]

  ofc kacchan!! i teach at 9 but maybe at 8?? there’s a place by ua i have always wanted to try. i think it’s a local coffee roastery and everyone always raves about it but if there’s somewhere else you want to go that’s fine too

  i like every coffee shop

  i’m not picky
 
  [KatsukiBakugo, 9:46pm]

  jesus do you ever shut up

  i’ll be there at 8.

  and you’re getting decaf so i don’t have to hear this godforsaken yapping
 
  “Twice in one week,” Izuku jokes as they stroll down the sidewalk, lattes in hand. The new place 
  
    was
  
   good, but crowded, and after watching Kacchan fidget for a moment, nervously eying every person that came in and out, he’d suggested that they go for a walk instead. It’s still cold as hell, but it’s not snowing and the sun is out. “You must want something.”

  Kacchan snorts as he takes a long sip of his drink. “Yeah, I want you to stop being so g@dd@mn lonely.”

  Izuku scowls, but the expression quickly falls off his face. It’s not natural, not on him. “So I am a charity case, then.”

  “Course not, nerd.” Kacchan pokes him, causing him to sidestep off the sidewalk and into a snowbank. Izuku curses at him, shaking snow off his boots and trying to regain his balance.

  “Kacchannnn. These are new.” He points at his shoes, sticking out his tongue.

  “They’re f@ck@ng 
  
    boots,
  
   Deku, they’re supposed to be waterproof.” He rolls his eyes. “Good to see you out of the sh@tty red shoes for a day.”

  “Oh, har har. I still wear them.”

  “Oh, you think I didn’t see them on your feet at the sh@thole bar the other night? Looking like a g@dd@mn eyesore even in that hellhole of a place.”

  He doesn’t mean it, not really. Izuku can see the twinkle in his eyes as he goads him, biting his lips to avoid laughing. The world might think that Pro Hero Dynamight is a scary @ssh@l@, but Izuku has always known the truth.

  Kacchan is a softy at heart. The caramel macchiato, extra extra caramel drizzle, in his hand says the same. 
  
    Still got a sweet tooth, huh?
  
   he’d joked, when Kacchan had ordered. He’d immediately retaliated in a way that only he could. 
  
    You’re the one drinking f@ck@ng lavender. You like the taste of soap, nerd? You would.
  

  “So is this how life is going to be now? You bothering me every day?” Izuku asks. He secretly wants the answer to be 
  
    yes,
  
   but he’s not about to confess that.

  “Maybe.” Kacchan scowls, stopping at a trash can to toss his empty cup. “Maybe I just wanted coffee today. You have a problem with that?”

  “No, no of course not!”

  “Tch. Nerd.” He jerks his hands into his pockets, shoulders tightening. “It’s f@ck@n’ 
  
    cold,
  
   Deku. Don’t know how you’re drinking an iced drink.”

  “I always drink iced drinks!” Izuku yelps. “Besides, it’s not 
  
    that
  
   cold. You’re just a baby.”

  “Say that again and you die.”

  An empty threat. Izuku flashes a quick look over at Kacchan and smiles. F@ck, he’s missed him. He’s always felt like home in a way no one else has, his gentle teasing and pushing something he’s grown used to over the years, something he 
  
    missed
  
   so badly after graduating. Even now, shuffling down the sidewalk a few feet apart, he can smell the lingering scent of burnt caramel and ash, and it takes him back to their second year at UA, the year they’d shared a room every night.

  Nothing had happened, of course. They were always best friends, rivals, nothing more, but also nothing less. After the war, Izuku’s nightmares and Kacchan’s panic attacks had made sleeping a b@tch, and they’d both quickly realized that sharing a room was the fastest way to combat them. With time, they’d gotten better, healed, at least a little. By the time they’d reached their third year, the nights they’d spent together had grown less and less, until one day, they just-

  -stopped.

  Izuku didn’t know why. They’d never talked about it, and he’d never wanted to pry. It had been a mutual thing, Kacchan sometimes spending the evening with Eijirou and Denki playing video games and crashing on the floor, Izuku roped into girls’ night with Mina, Ochako, and Tsu from time to time. One day, they’d stopped going to each other’s rooms, and life had gone on.

  He’s not going to bring that up now. He can’t. 

  Izuku can feel Kacchan gradually falling behind him on the sidewalk, and slows his pace so they’re walking side by side. It’s odd, usually it’s Kacchan taking the front, yelling at anyone going faster than him to 
  
    move, 
  
  lest they incur his wrath. “You doing okay?”

  “‘Course,” he grunts, but the bags around his eyes tell a different story.

  He knows that prodding is the 
  
    wrong
  
   answer and will only serve to p@ss him off further, but he’s never been one to shy away. “When did you get off shift?” Izuku asks.

  Kacchan groans, like he doesn’t want to answer the question, but likely sensing that he’s not going to let up, does so anyway. “About an hour ago,” he confesses.

  “An hour ago?” Izuku squeaks. “You should- you should be 
  
    sleeping,
  
   not drinking coffee! Kacchan! You’re on me about 
  
    my
  
   caffeine intake when you’ve been up all night?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He waves a hand. “I have to go back on in a few hours for a mandatory meeting. Not really worth going home just to sleep for an hour or two.”

  “You look like sh@t.”

  Kacchan scowls. “You too, f@ckface.”

  “I’m serious! You can’t just run yourself into the ground like this.”

  He grits his teeth. “Drop it, Midoriya.”

  The use of his last name is enough to stun Izuku into silence; he can’t remember the last time Kacchan called him by it. It’s always been 
  
    Deku, 
  
  or in the past seven years, 
  
    Izuku,
  
   although Deku still slips out from time to time. He doesn’t mind it - he chose it as his hero name, after all. But it’s never been just 
  
    Midoriya,
  
   and the harshness of it stuns him in a way he couldn’t have expected.

  Kacchan is serious, when he told him to drop it, so Izuku does, albeit reluctantly. The last thing he wants is to see him exhausted and burnt out, but it’s not Katsuki’s way to ever take anyone else’s worries into consideration. He does what he wants; always has, always will.

  “Well, do you have a day off soon?” Izuku chirps, trying to at least somewhat change the subject. “It would be fun to be able to go do something. There’s that new All Might exhibit downtown-”

  ”Tch. Nerd. Not gon’ use a day off to go to some sh@tty museum.” 

  “You’re just as much of a nerd as me!” whines Izuku. “I’d bet you your next coffee that you still have a poster in your apartment.”

  ”Do not,” Kacchan fires back. “You owe me a coffee anyway, seeing as I bought yours today. F@ck@n’ soap flavored coffee.”

  ”I forgot my wallet!”

  He snorts. “D@mn convenient.”

  ”Next time,” Izuku promises.

  ”What, are you assuming there’s going to be a next time or something?” Kacchan moves to elbow him, but this time Izuku is prepared, slamming his shoulder into his side. It’s Kacchan’s turn to step off the sidewalk and into the snowbank. “You’re such a 
  
    sh@t,” 
  
  he scowls, reaching down and grabbing a fistfull of snow. 

  Izuku shrieks, trying to run, but Kacchan yanks him back by the collar and stuffs the entire snowball down the back of his shirt. Izuku yelps, frantically untucking his dress shirt and shaking the snow out of the back of it, before it melts and leaves him cold and shivering. By the time he’s finished emptying his shirt, Kacchan is doubled over laughing.

  Izuku chucks the remainder of his coffee at him. “You’re a d@ck.”

  Kacchan blocks it, and the mostly-empty cup clatters to the ground. ‘Known,” he says, flashing a toothy grin. He picks up the cup from the ground and throws it away, making comments under his breath, always teasing, but not enough of an @ssh@l@ to leave litter on the sidewalk.

  He’s mostly all talk.

  ”When do you get off today?”

  ”Dunno. Why? We start hanging out more again, and you’re going to press me for every detail about my personal life?”

  Izuku clacks his teeth together in annoyance. “Just promise me that you will go home and sleep.”

  ”Sure thing, mom. You gonna come over and tuck me into bed too?”

  Izuku swats at him, but Kacchan smacks his hand away, leaving them to slap-fight on the street corner like a bunch of elementary children. Two women walk by, giving them childing looks as they shuffle past, and Izuku is almost embarrassed.

  Kacchan isn’t, and he seizes the opportunity to land a playful blow right against Izuku’s chest. Izuku glares over at him, eyes wide, and Kacchan nearly falls over laughing for the second time that morning.

  ”F@ck off.”

  ”Hey, hey! That’s not very 
  
    teacher-y
  
   language of you! What would the little sh@ts think?”

  ”They would think that you’re a d@ck, for stuffing a snowball down my shirt,” retorts Izuku.

  Kacchan smirks. “Kota wouldn’t. He’d find it hilarious. Remember when he hit you in the b@lls?”

  Izuku groans. Like he’d ever forget one of 
  
    the most embarrassing
  
   moments of his entire life. “Do me a favor and 
  
    do not
  
   tell Kota a word of this. You don’t need to embolden him any more. He already excels at making my life difficult.”

  ”Knew I liked that kid for a reason.”

  Izuku checks his watch, visibly grimacing when he realizes it’s already a quarter til nine. “I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later?’

  ”Yeah, yeah.” Kacchan waves him off. “Go be a perfect role model or som’ sh@t. I’ll be around, okay?”

  He smiles. “Okay, Kacchan.”
 
  Izuku doesn’t mean for it to happen, but his mind is on Kacchan all day long, in the space between lectures, while supervising training exercises, during lunch. He can’t get it out of his mind: the eyebags, the exhausted way he was shuffling the sidewalk, the way he was so d@mn 
  
    defensive
  
   when he simply mentioned taking a break. Something is definitely up, and Izuku is tired of hearing “I’m fine” over and over again, when he’s clearly not.

  Kacchan has made it clear that he will not be discussing it, but f@ck it, Izuku is worried. He picks up his phone after his last class and texts the biggest gossip he knows - the one person who, if he doesn’t know what’s going on, then no one truly does.
 
  [IzukuMidoriya, 5:36pm]

  hey denks!! you working tonight??
 
  [DenkiKaminari, 5:43pm]

  Off at 7! Want to meet up? :D
 
  [IzukuMidoriya, 5:45pm]

  can we?? different bar please???
 
  [DenkiKaminari, 5:49]

  Bro I’m fr too broke for anywhere else. See youuuuu at 7??
 
  Izuku reluctantly responds with a thumbs up before setting his phone down. He didn’t know what he expected, honestly. The bar is right down the block from the agency, and although he’d only been there a time or two, he’s sure that everyone else could easily be considered a regular.

  At least this time, it’s a Friday night, and he can sleep over whatever trouble he gets into this time.
 
  Two hours later and Izuku is nestled on a barstool between Hanta and Denki, refereeing an argument about hero rankings that he’d rather not even be a part of. Both Chargebolt and Cellophane were comfortably nestled in the top thirty, and even Izuku forgets which one of them is on top at the moment. Neither had aspirations for number one, but somehow their playful rivalry continued despite this fact.

  “I will buy the next drink for whichever one of you shuts up first,” Izuku moans.

  Eijirou claps him on the back. “Good man. We can’t all be top twenty material, you know.”

  Denki rolls his eyes and pretends to shoot himself in the head. “Oh, like your life is so hard, mister 
  
    the men all think I’m so cool and all the ladies want to f@ck me.
  
   I feel so bad for you.” He grabs another shot off the table. “Where are you now? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

  “Guys,” Izuku interjects.

  ”Thirteen,” Eijirou fires back. “But it’s okay, Denks, I knew you were never that good at math.”

  “Guys.” 

  “He’s right, you know.” Hanta yawns. “Can’t even figure out that twenty-six is better than twenty-nine.”

  “Oh, like you’re so big and cool. The only reason why you’re rated better is because you deleted your twitter account and the public seems to think you’re mysterious and cool,” argues Denki.

  ”Guys.” Izuku tries to b@tt in a third time.

  ”You could always delete your twitter,” Eijirou points out. “The whole world doesn’t need to know how many times you take a shit in a week, man.”

  Denki crosses his arms. “I’d rather stick my d@ck in an electrical socket than give up shitposting, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

  ”You freak, you’d probably be into that,” Hanta retorts.

  
    “Guys!”
  

  Finally, the banter ceases, three sets of eyes snapping to Izuku. He groans and rubs his temples. “For the love of god, I’ve had to listen to children whine all g@dd@mn day because I made them run 
  
    three miles.
  
   I can’t do this.”

  ”Three miles?” Denki snorts. “Are you trying to kill them?”

  ”Denks, that’s like, barely any,” sighs Izuku.

  ”Yeah, man, do you ever work out?” Eijirou laughs as downs the rest of his drink and flags the bartender for another. “That’s not very manly of you.”

  Denki flexes his arms. He’s filled out a little since high school, but he’s still the same gangly kid, even at twenty-three. “Does it look like I give a f@ck?”

  Okay, so inviting them out tonight was definitely a mistake. Too late now. Izuku’s already dug his grave. Might as well lie in it.

  ”Does anyone else work as much as Kacchan?” he blurts. All eyes turn to him. Ah, f@ck. It’s out there now.

  Denki slings an arm around Izuku’s shoulders, leaning far too much of his body weight into him. Izuku realizes far too late that he’s a lightweight, and he’s not sure how many shots he’s downed by now, but it’s surely more than advisable. “Did you just invite us out here to talk about Kacchannnnn,” he coos in his ear.

  Izuku cringes. “No, but I’m curious. It feels like he’s 
  
    always
  
   working. Like, more than normal. You guys all work that much?”

  Eijirou shrugs. “Hero life is rough, man. We all work a lot.”

  ”True, but,” Denki interjects. “Kats works the most. I mean, if he didn’t keep picking up shifts, then maybe he’d have more of a normal life, but-”

  His words are punctuated by a slap, right on the middle of his back. Hanta gives him a look that could kill, communicating 
  
    something,
  
   but Izuku isn’t sure exactly what. The two of them have a nonverbal conversation right over the top of him, with Denki huffing and flopping back down on his stool.

  ”So, Ei, you and Mina still a thing?” Hanta asks. The conversation change catches Izuku off guard. Either there’s something they aren’t telling him, or they’re just that unwilling to talk about Kacchan behind his back. He doubts it’s the latter; Denki has never had a problem with talking about anyone else before.

  Eijirou’s cheeks flush pink. “Yeah, man. She’s f@ck@ng great. Don’t know ow it took me four years after high school to ask her out.”

  ”Because, even after all the manly talk, you’re still a p@ssy,” Denki says with a laugh.

  ”You’re one to talk! Still dating your right hand?” 

  “For the record, I 
  
    am
  
   seeing someone.” Denki runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back. “And no, I will not tell you who.”

  Hanta chuckles as he leans his back against the bartop. “It’s totally his right hand.”

  ”Is not!”

  ”Then tell us!” Izuku prods. At least give him 
  
    something, 
  
  if they’re not going to talk about Kacchan.

  It’s Denki’s turn to blush. “Nope. He told me not to tell yet.”

  ”It’s a he this time?” Hanta elbows him. “Oh god, who is it? 
  
    Please
  
   tell me it’s not someone from our class. I can’t do any more of this f@ck@n’ third-wheeling,” he groans.

  ”You know, if you just sucked it up and actually asked someone out, you wouldn’t be in this spot,” Eijirou points out.

  ”Oh, like you think I want that?” Hanta throws his head back and laughs. “I’m good, love. Just want the rest of you to stop being so g@dd@mn lame.” He eyes Izuku for a moment. “You’re not dating anyone, are you Midoriya?”

  Izuku shakes his head quickly. “I don’t really have time.”

  Eijirou nods. “Makes sense.”

  Hanta juts a thumb at Izuku. “Why is he allowed to make an excuse?”

  ”I dunno. It’s ‘Zuku, man. If he’s got an excuse, it’s probably a good one.”

  ”I can set you up, Izu-kuuuu,” Denki chirps.

  ”Uh, no thanks.”

  ”You questioning my taste in men?’ Denki throws a hand over his chest dramatically, pretending to be offended. “Toshi would be so offended.”

  ”Toshi?” they all scream in unison.

  Denki’s face goes pale. “Ah, fuck.”

  Hanta screams that he knew it, Eijirou compliments him, and Izuku just watches and laughs. He might not have gotten what he came for, but it’s just good to be included again.

  
  

  
  

    
      
        
        
          thank you to everyone who is following along! i am still laying the groundwork before amping up the angst. your comments and kudos feed me and i am just so excited to get to share this on with you guys <333much love, lisps follow my bluesky for more mha content :)) https://bsky.app/profile/hazeleyeddreams.bsky.social'
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