Chapter Text
“Richard.” Izuku schools his face into a guarded expression.
“Just Richard?” The man arches his eyebrows in mild disbelief. His arm is heavy against Izuku’s shoulder. “Rather rude, don’t you think?”
The air is thick with Izuku’s silence.
Damn it. He knew that contract had red flags all over it, but for the VIP to be Richard—goddamn Richard of all people? Shouldn’t he be busy with his upcoming show? What the hell is he doing here?
“Come on,” Richard jostles his shoulder with a light shake. Izuku bristles. “At least say ‘Hi!’ or a ‘How are you doing, Richard’?”
“I’ll pass.”
Izuku takes a step to the side in an attempt to shrug off the man’s arm, but that only makes Richard double down. He presses down with his arm; the pressure against the back of Izuku’s neck grows tenfold until it effectively pins Izuku in place. With a hefty motion, he pats Izuku’s shoulder. A smile dripping with honey-drenched condescension stretches across his chiseled face. He curls his arm and yanks the actor towards him. Nearly causing Izuku to trip on his own two feet.
Izuku clenches his jaw.
“Don’t tell me you’re still mad about those interviews,” Richard straightens himself fully. He peers down at Izuku with his three-inch advantage. “You should be thankful I didn’t tag you as anything worse than ‘difficult actor’. “ He rolls his eyes, “Most directors wouldn’t have put up with half the crap you pulled back then.”
He exhales sharply through his nose.
Thankful ? Does he have any idea how sh*t the last two years of his life had been? All because he got tagged as ‘difficult to work with’? Every gig Izuku had lined up after Vigilante dropped him like a hot potato. Finding work had been nigh impossible. He’s lucky enough to even have a role after two years of nothing. Let alone a role as a major character for the film of the decade.
Richard checks the expensive watch on his left wrist, “You should drop the attitude.” His voice drops to a threateningly low volume, “It’s not a good look sweetie. I’m a potential investor here, you know?”
Izuku bites the inside of his cheek.
Because of course, he’s a potential investor.
“What do you want Richard?” He grinds out the words from between his teeth.
“Well, first I want a proper greeting from you!” Richard brightens like sunshine against a mold-covered window. “How about, ‘Good morning, Richard! It’s so good to see you again! How can I help you’?”
“Good morning Richard.” Izuku deadpans, “How can I help you?”
Richard tilts his head, “You missed a part hon’.”
It takes all of Izuku’s willpower to not openly scowl. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turns to meet Richard’s eyes with a steady look. The world’s most annoyed expression on his face.
“It’s so good to see you again.”
“Much better!” Richard hums. He gives Izuku a congratulatory rub on the shoulder for his efforts. “Anyways, as you may have already heard, we’re casting for the male lead in my latest project; the dark romance one.” he waves vaguely with his fingers, brown eyes roving Izuku’s body from head to toe.
Izuku’s skin crawls with a thousand spiders.
”How about it?” Richard smiles his award-winning smile.
“No thanks.”
Nope. Nada. Hell no.
He’d rather die than be under Richard’s control again. Nothing, and Izuku means nothing would get him to agree to that: Not career-ending blackmail, a monkey’s grip offer, or even contract shenanigans. Nothing. Literally, nothing .
“Are you kidding me? No?!” Irritation flashes across Richard’s face. Izuku tenses. “Do you have any idea how many actors would kill for this offer?!”
“They can have it.” Izuku grits out, “Now if you’ll excuse me,” He pushes off with his heel and shoves himself free from Richard’s grasp, “I need to use the restroom.”
Richard snaps his hand forward.
A vice-claw grip wraps around Izuku’s right elbow. Sharp, throbbing pain ripples from the epicenter of Richard’s grip—f*ck, that hurts.
“Your career is dead in the water,” Richard hisses, “and you’re passing up on this?! I’m practically handing you a lifeline on a silver platter!”
“I told you, I'm not interested.” Izuku grinds out tersely, “Now let go.”
They lock eyes.
Richard's face is set in an ugly state of disbelief and annoyance.
“Attention!” A voice crackles over the speakers, “All participants please move to the conference room, just down the hall. Negotiations will begin in 10 minutes!”
Richard clicks his tongue. His thick eyebrows shift down in a burst of anger before he finally lets go.
Relief surges through Izuku’s body. He cradles his throbbing elbow to his chest. Lightly pressing his palm against it to test the reaction—it stings violently—sh*t, that’s definitely going to bruise tomorrow.
“Fine, be that way.” Richard rolls his eyes. “Just so you know, since I’m so generous, the offer still stands. We don’t begin production until next Saturday, so whenever you’re ready to accept sweetie.” He neatly adjusts his tux collar, “You know my number.”
An annoyed huff leaves his mouth as leaves. A friendly smile plastered on his face as he mingles with the group crowding the exit. He blends in perfectly and naturally. Any trace of his festering annoyance is completely gone.
Izuku catches himself against the table. Drawing in long, forcefully steady breaths.
Richard’s only an investor.
He can deal.
Just have to work up the energy to put up with him for the rest of today, and then he’ll never see him again.
That’s doable.
So, damn , doable.
Izuku doesn’t get back to his hotel room until 11:34 PM.
The negotiations went way overtime, which annoyed Izuku on two points: One he was stuck there for longer then he was supposed to be, and two; he didn’t get to investigate the outcome of the negotiations.
By the time everything was wrapped up, the employees at the venue were kicking everyone out.
The only good thing is that Izuku didn’t need to deal with Richard when leaving. He spotted the blond chatting it up with a small cluster of socialites, giving Izuku ample time to make his escape unbothered.
Dealing with Richard four times today was four times too many.
The guy spent each encounter either talking about his life or pestering Izuku to accept his casting call. Seriously he would not give up. Why does he even want Izuku in the project?
According to his own interviews, working with Izuku was a ‘total nightmare’. Not to mention, Izuku is currently public enemy #1. Casting Izuku as a lead would drag his project through some serious controversy—which, now that he’s thinking about it, is not a bad outcome. Wouldn’t that be some nice payback for all the stress Richard put him through these past couple of years.
It’s a nice thought.
But that’s all it is; just a trivial thought. No amount of petty satisfaction is worth putting himself under Richard’s control again.
Izuku shakes his head and swipes the keycard to the hotel door lock. It unlocks with a metallic click.
He swings the door open and stumbles through the entrance, already kicking off his shoes. The door closes softly behind him, blocking out the light from the hall. Limiting the only source of light to the windowed wall across the room. Specks of yellows, reds, and white pepper the dark city skyline.
Izuku leaves his phone, wallet, and keys on the table before hauling himself to the bathroom. He flicks the lights on as he makes his way to the sink.
He grabs his makeup wipes from the counter and gets to work. He presses the damp cloth against his skin until his eyebags come back into full view. Once he’s bare-faced, he tosses the used cloth into the trash, runs the faucet, and splashes water onto his face until he’s ready to wrap up the rest of his night routine.
He hops into the shower after leaving his clothes on the counter. Steam billowing out from behind the glass separator to fill the room. When Izuku steps out, the mirror is only slightly foggy. He wraps a towel around his lower half and walks up to the sink again, blatantly ignoring the low throbbing in his elbow as he mechanically goes through his skincare routine.
He frowns at his own reflection.
Red blotchy spots in the vague form of a handprint decorate the crook of his right arm. Richard left a seriously nasty bruise. Izuku tests his fingers against it—a dull throb pulses out. He snaps his hand back.
Covering this up with makeup before work is going to be a pain in the butt.
He sighs and places his moisturizer back on the counter.
His eyes narrow against his reflection.
Did he gain weight too?
He hunches down to pull out the scale he keeps in the cabinet. Its smooth metal surface is cold under his feet: 104 lb. One pound off from being in breach of contract. Izuku frowns. Maybe he’s getting a little too lax with his workout routine.
He steps off and moves it to the corner of the bathroom; he’ll leave it out. He’s supposed to be checking his weight every day anyway.
Izuku turns the bathroom light off as he exits.
After changing into a pair of shorts, and a white shirt, he swipes his phone from the table to update his dietician on his weight. After sending the text he puts his phone on the nightstand next to the alarm.
12:33 AM stares at him in bold red numbers.
He has to go to work at 5 AM. Is it even worth sleeping at this point? Even if he moved out from the motel to a hotel closer to the set (at Ochako’s recommendation) , it’s still not a short trip.
He’ll just spend the night working. They did send out an updated script this morning.
Izuku grabs his laptop that’s sitting on the desk. From the corner of his eye, he spots the small white box Charlie gave him yesterday. It’s sitting innocently on the dark oak surface, barely illuminated by the light from the window. His fingers fidget around the slim device. He shifts his laptop so he’s carrying it in his good arm.
Hesitantly, he tucks the box into the corner of the table.
He’ll get around to it eventually.
JHX @JHX3301
@TartarusOFFI Do you guys have no shame? Have some respect for the deceased and get this prick @OfficialIzuku out of here. Stop giving a jerk like him a platform. Let his career die with Vigilante. He doesn’t deserve to continue being an actor, not after what he’s done. #cancelizukuparty #boothimnow
34 Replies | 101 Retweets | 99 Favorites
2:29 PM - 2 January xx
Locoz @Locoz
Replying to @JHX3301
Lmao just boycott the film, it’s been a whole ass month since the casting announcement. They aint gonan get rid of him.
0 Replies | 1 Retweets | 5 Favorites
2:29 PM - 2 January xx
Hadez @Hadez
Replying to @JHX3301
Why is this tweet blowing up
1 Replies | 0 Retweets | 0 Favorites
2:29 PM - 2 January xx
Xbotsxx0 @bots
Replying to @EREBUS
lmaaaaooo @OfficialIzuku lol look at wut u did. U crippled him and nows he f*cking dead just die asshole.
#cancelizukuparty #boothimnow
30 Replies | 77 retweets | 101 favorites
2:30 PM - 2 January XX
Ashton @Ashton
Replying to @bots
Look, I think he’s a total asshole too but sending death threats and the like is low dude, way low
1 Replies | 0 retweets | 0 favorites
2:30 PM - 2 January XX
It’s halfway through Saturday morning and Izuku is in the middle of getting his new costume fitted. He’s wobbly on his feet and teetering between falling asleep standing, or keeling over flat in the middle of the wardrobe trailer.
"Hey! Midoriya!"
Hatsume snaps her fingers in front of Izuku’s face—he startles awake, “Don’t go falling asleep on me.” Her hand is on the table, gripping a full-body two-pistol harness. “These babies still need adjustments before you’re all set!” She walks up, the harness dangles from her hands.
“Now lift your arms please!”
“Sorry.” Izuku blinks rapidly, shakes his head, and lifts his arms.
“You’re good.”
Hatsume moves at a breakneck pace. Her experience as a professional costume dresser shows in every movement; Fast, precise, and efficient. She pulls the harness onto his torso, buckles the front, loops the straps around his thighs, and then tightens them. Once everything’s said and done, she pulls away and reaches into the cardboard box on the counter that’s been labeled with ‘Deku Work’ in black marker.
“How’s the fit on the combat boots? Are they comfortable?” She pulls out a mag pouch and a machete holster. Quickly attaching the mag pouch around his waist and the machete holster at the back of his belt.
She doesn’t give him any prop pistols.
He must be handling live firearms today.
“Yeah, they’re comfortable.” He nods and stifles a yawn.
Hatsume added the extra memory foam at his request so they’re a little too comfortable now. Makes him want to keep them or at the very least, have them on every time he’s doing stunts.
“By the way,” Hatsume hands him a set of knee pads from the box. Izuku takes them. “I don’t think I mentioned this last time, but my modeling agency is Kamera Works!” As soon as Izuku finishes velcroing them on, she turns around and shoves a business card in his face.
Izuku squints: Does she carry her business card everywhere?
“We have a massive network across the fashion industry!” She continues excitedly, “ And we only take an 18% commission rate! That’s 2% lower than the industry standard!” She steps closer to Izuku with each word, pushing closer and closer till they’re practically chest to chest. The cut of her tanktop is low enough that any look down will—
—Izuku squeaks.
He snaps his head to the side and stares at Nejire’s horns sitting on the counter.
His cheeks burn bright red.
“What do you say?!” Stars sparkle in her eyes.
Izuku rapidly shakes his head, “No-no thanks!”
Hatsume deflates and returns to looking through the cardboard box.
Izuku lets out a sigh of relief.
As she rummages through the box for the rest of the costume pieces, Izuku continues adjusting the harness. It’s still a bit loose in the chest area.
“I’m telling you Midoriya all the agencies will be clawing to get their hands on you after this movie!” She tosses a black compression sleeve in his direction—Izuku scrambles to catch it, “At least promise me you’ll come to me first if you ever consider any of them!”
“I’ll think about it.” Izuku half smiles. He holds up the compression sleeve, “Which arm is this supposed to go on?”
“Left.” Hatsume steps behind him to access her wardrobe.
He rolls up the sleeve on his left arm. Deku’s scars are painted all across it. His right elbow twinges as he creases the cloth, but the compression sleeve slides on easily enough. He tugs it up as far as it’ll go before moving to roll the sleeve on his other arm.
Just as he’s about to lift the white sleeve above his elbow, a nasty purple splotch peeks from below—sh*t. He knew he had forgotten to do something this morning.
“And these babies—!”
Izuku drops the sleeve too late.
Hatsume pops back to his front, eyes focused on his now-covered arm. Her smile doesn’t falter, but Izuku can see the slight downward angle of her brows. Slowly, she puts the gloves on the table like she’s processing what she’s just seen. Her right hand tightens around the black mask.
“Both of your sleeves are supposed to be rolled up.” Hatsume purses her lips.
“Right.”
Izuku hesitates. Shoulders stiff.
People are going to see it anyway: He didn’t bring his own makeup supplies. He’ll have to go to make-up again to get it covered up.
He bites the inside of his cheek and rolls up his right sleeve.
Hatsume frowns when he finishes.
Izuku doesn’t blame her.
The rolled-up sleeve covers half of it and it still looks horrible. Since last night the discoloration has become more vivid. Instead of a pinkish red, it’s now dark blue and purple. It vaguely takes the form of a handprint-shaped splotch. The fingerprint marks curve around his elbow.
Despite Richard’s looks, he’s surprisingly strong. At least it doesn’t hurt as much as it looks. Other than the occasional throb when he moves his elbow, it's tolerable.
Hatsume’s frown deepens. She clips the plastic black mask to his belt and returns to the table behind her. Shoving the cardboard box aside to reveal the pink leather purse hiding behind it.
“What happened?” Plastic clinks and clatters as she rummages through.
“I had an accident yesterday.” Izuku fidgets as he moves to take the gloves from the table. His pointer finger taps against them as he pulls them on, “About the costume, is this supposed to be Deku’s work outfit? It doesn’t match with any of his comic versions.”
“Some comic designs—” Hatsume sinks her whole arm into her purse,”—don’t translate well to real life.” She yanks her makeup kit free and zips it open.
She motions for him to step closer, “Let me cover this up for you so you don’t have to go to makeup again.”
Izuku stares at her owlishly, a little taken aback.
“Can you roll up your sleeve completely?” Hatsume pulls the cap off the concealer stick.
Izuku hesitates again before ultimately pulling it up as far it would go. Hatsume’s yellow eyes lock onto the bruise even as she twists out the stick.
“If I’m applying too much pressure just tell me.”
They pass the rest of the time in silence.
It stings every time she presses the stick against it, but Izuku manages to remain stock-still for the duration. Hatsume keeps the pressure to a minimum as she works. Once she finishes with the concealer, she applies a layer of foundation before dusting it off with some finisher powder.
When Hatsume’s done, she recklessly starts sliding her stuff back into her makeup pouch. Izuku, meanwhile, twists his arm around for an inspection: It’s gone. Not so much as a crack or crease where there shouldn't be with the stretch of skin.
Hatsume’s skills are no joke. Seriously, sometimes he wonders why Hatsume is the costume designer and not the key makeup artist.
Then again, fashion is her bread and butter.
“Thank you.” He pulls the sleeve back down to his elbow.
“Of course! You’re all done now!” Hatsume flashes him a toothy grin and grabs her walkie from her belt. “I’ll let Jasmine know you’re going to be late!”
Izuku nods, gives her a quick thank you, and turns for the door. He’s one foot out in the morning sun when Hatsume suddenly shouts again.
“Don’t forget to think about my modeling offer!” Hatsume runs out to the doorway. “I’ve got a fall collection three-piece evening suit and coat with your name all over it!” she shouts, walkie to her chin. “I’ll even change the tie for a clip-on tie!”
Izuku’s face heats up.
“I can tie a tie Hatsume.”
She just chortles boisterously behind him.
He buries his face in his hands as he walks to find his Production assistant. Might as well ask for a clip-on sense of dignity at this point.
“Good evening heroes—or I guess I should say,” Deku cranes his head up to peer at the night sky, “good night instead?” He twirls a pistol in his left hand and stops in front of the black sedan with a slight flourish. The headlights pierce through the white mist, illuminating the scattered group of exhausted heroes before him.
He smiles, perfectly pleasant, “Have you all been enjoying your night?”
The heroes stare at him, frozen in disbelief.
They’re surrounded by a myriad of bodies: Nomu and civilians alike. Class-1B heroes are scattered around the road. Blood coats the asphalt like a blanket where Uravity is holding the hand of a crushed civilian. Icefire is standing under a tipped-over building that’s barely held up by the giant Nomu frozen in a massive block of ice. Chargebolt is the furthest back, a smaller Nomu lies on the ground in front of him. It’s covered in electric burns. Poor thing. That was his favorite one.
A cold night breeze blows past.
“No?” Deku arches a single brow, “No one’s enjoying their night?” He stops twirling his pistol.
Dead silence.
“Guess it’s just me.” He shrugs and clicks the safety off. “I won’t be too long then, just came by to give Kacchan a gift.” he motions for the Nomu behind him to come forward—his right elbow protests against the motion.
Uravity leaps back to her feet. She slams all five of her fingers against the blood-stained debris next to her. It doesn’t budge. Horror dawns over her.
A wolfish grin splits Deku’s face.
He pulls a mag from his pouch and starts casually reloading—a low throb radiates from his elbow with each movement, Izuku powers through.
“Hey guys—!” Panic creeps into Chargebolt’s voice, he flexes his hands. One foot resting on top of the defeated Nomu, “—my quirk’s not working!”
“Same here!” Icefire stomps his foot against the ground, but nothing comes out.
“It’s the mist!” Uravity‘s eyes land on the empty gas canister near Deku’s feet. “It’s the mist.” She repeats horrified. Desperately, she reaches into her utility belt for her gas mask.
Deku chuckles at the sight.
It’s a little late for that.
The Nomus behind him lumber forward with slow thundering steps. They’re not high-ends, but well—he walks forward and kicks the empty gas canister aside: Without their quirks, any hero regardless of rank, is just a sitting duck.
“I’m in a good mood tonight so—” Deku grips the pistol handle with both hands. He aims the sights at Chargebolt’s frozen forehead.
He braces his arms, pointer finger against the trigger.
“—I’ll make this quick.” A savage smile lights his face as he fires.
A viciously loud bang echoes out as the recoil rips through his right elbow like lightning. His shoulders hike up to his neck. Low, throbbing pain grips his elbow in a tight vice. His hand jerks. The pistol clatters to the ground, smoke wisping from the barrel after firing a blank.
“ sh*t! ” Izuku hisses viscerally.
His right arm spasms as he cradles it close to his chest. Jaw clenched as he rides out the onslaught of low throbbing. So much for running through this scene without any hiccups. How many takes have they been through already?
“CUT!”
The weapons master runs up to the set at a near-blinding speed. He scoops up the pistol and audibly turns the safety back on. Swiftly holstering the weapon into his own shoulder holster. Before he jogs off, Max tosses an odd look over his shoulder.
Izuku’s face tightens: He shouldn’t have dropped that.
Dropping a prop pistol is one thing, but a live firearm is another thing entirely. It might only have blanks, but Max made it clear that the minor explosion when a gun fires is still dangerous if you’re close enough; and that thing? It dropped right in front of Izuku. He’s lucky it didn’t misfire when it fell.
He is sooo getting chewed out by the weapons master later.
“Medic!” Sasaki’s voice rings through his megaphone.
A young, dark-skinned man dressed in a dark blue EMT uniform rushes up to him. A matching dark blue medic bag is slung over his shoulder. The headlights highlight him in an orange-yellow glow. They cast a long shadow behind him.
“Midoriya right?” The medic sets his bag on the floor between his feet, “I’m Daniel. Are you alright? What’s the problem?”
“I’m alright—” His shoulder stiffens, hands clammy as his pointer finger taps against his cold palms, “—my elbow’s just a little sore. The recoil caught me off guard.”
“Just a little sore? ” Daniel echos, one eyebrow raised. “You looked pretty tense back there,” He expectantly holds his hand open, “What happened to it?”
“I had a minor accident yesterday.” Izuku gives him his forearm to examine. His eyes nervously skitter to his elbow: Makeup is still intact.
“What kind of accident?” Daniel takes his forearm and gently turns it around to examine it from all angles.
“I—” Izuku glances up to give Daniel a steady look, “—strained it last night during my workout routine.”
“So you pulled it?” The man isn’t even looking at Izuku’s face. He’s too preoccupied with checking his arm.
Izuku glances away.
“Yeah.”
“How much pain does it cause you? On a scale of 1 to 10?”
“One.” Izuku fidgets.
“Hmm. Well, everything looks okay.” Daniel purses his lips and lets go. He crouches down to pick up his bag, “A pulled muscle should recover in about three days. If it doesn’t recover by tomorrow, you should see professional medical help.” He unzips the bag, “Would you like some aspirin?”
Izuku shakes his head, “I’ll pass, but thanks.”
“You sure?” Daniel lifts his eyebrow in a mix of concern and mild disbelief. “You looked pretty tense, and no offense, but you’ve been stiff all day.” He pulls out a bottle of aspirin, “I’ve got plenty of painkillers. You don’t need to be shy.”
Izuku goes rigid.
Is it really that obvious? Sure, they’ve shot more takes than usual today, but he didn’t think it’d impact his performance that much .
“I’m fine, really.” He drops his arm to his side and tries for a reassuring smile.
“Well alright then.” Daniel slings the bag over his shoulder again. “Just lemme know if you change your mind okay?”
He nods.
Daniel lingers. Probably to see if Izuku will change his mind about the painkillers. After a moment of silence, Daniel shrugs again, steps back, and flashes a thumbs up in Sasaki’s direction. Sasaki nods from where he’s sitting and grabs his megaphone again.
“We’re taking a 15!” Sasaki shouts, “In the meantime, Daniel please give me a report!”
Daniel regards Izuku one last time before walking away.
Izuku finds himself alone in front of the sedan headlights again. The car engine is still rumbling behind him. The hum of it is low enough to be drowned out by the production members behind him. He could hear the group shouting as they push the large Nomu figurines back into their starting position.
A cold wind buffets past Izuku, forcing a shiver out of him. He wishes he was in Deku’s other costume right about now. As much as he dislikes filming in it during the day, it’d be nice to have it on for night shoots.
“Hey, Midoriya!” A familiar production member with shoulder-length blond hair walks up to him. She offers the spare black crew member jacket in her hand.
“Oh, uh, thanks—” Izuku accepts the jacket. He tilts his head as he examines her face, “—Sonia, right?”
Sonia looks pleasantly surprised, “Yeah, it’s Sonia.” She touches a button on her headset, “Go ahead and put that on. We’ll be handing out hot coffee in a minute so once I get confirmation from the Director—” She points to the cast chairs behind her. Most of the actors have migrated there; including Monoma from the class 1B cast.
Izuku politely elects to ignore the venomous glare being thrown his way. At least he wasn’t as problematic to work with today.
“—you can go ahead and take a seat with the rest of the cast.”
While they wait for Sasaki’s confirmation, Izuku puts on the jacket. It’s a bit small but it’s better than nothing. It does mean that he can’t zip it closed though.
Sonia takes her finger off her headset not too long after. With a quick nod, she gives him the okay to leave his position. Briskly slipping past him to enter the sedan. The engine along with the headlights are turned off soon after.
It’s not a long walk to the cast chairs but Izuku isn’t in a particular rush to sit in a hostile environment. Monoma’s not the only one throwing dirty looks over there. His pace is slow as he ambles along. He dully listens to the white noise around him as people chat and move about. His eyes tear up, and a yawn cracks past his jaw—
“Izuku!” Ochako hollers.
Izuku startles. His eyes blink rapidly open. A blood-stained Ochako is a blur of movement in his peripherals. Her gait is fast she she cups her hands around her mouth. An unapologetic grin on them as she cheerily shouts into them again.
“Izuku! I’m going to cuddle you!”
“Oh.” Izuku freezes and braces for impact.
She glomps him. Gurgling as she crashes into his left side with a gentle ferocity. Her arms wrap around his left arm, her face nestled in the space between his shoulder and jaw, careful to keep her costume’s earpieces from jabbing him. Warmth radiates off her body in droves.
“Uh, Ochako?” A heated blush rises from Izuku’s neck to his face.
“Yes Izuku?” She bats her eyelashes innocently.
“Could you let go please?” He squirms. His embarrassed blush deepens to a flush red.
Ochako’s not usually this affectionate. The last time was when Izuku flew into LA four weeks ago. He swears up and down that she cracked one of his ribs with her hug. Playing Uravity made her buff as hell.
Ochako pouts and tightens her grip. “But I don’t wanna, it’s cold!”
“Then put on a jacket.” Izuku tries to shoo her off by shrugging his left shoulder. He’s normally happy to indulge her, but he’s spotting a couple of odd looks being thrown their way.
Roping Ochako into another relationship scandal is the last thing Izuku wants. Especially since both their contracts are on the line this time. They’re exes now, but when they were still dating, their relationship was somehow outed to the press.
That was a nightmare of a month.
Izuku tries to break free by squirming again but Ochako is relentless. She giggles with every failed attempt. Her grip tightens every second. Eventually, he gives up and catches eyes with a grime-covered Shouto who is trailing behind her, carefully balancing three cups of coffee. Izuku throws the man a pleading look.
They make eye contact.
Shouto nods in understanding.
“Ochako have some mercy for Izuku.” Shouto walks up to them and dangles a cup in front of Ochako like bait. “Don’t you want your coffee?”
“I can drink coffee and cuddle Izuku at the same time,” Ochako sticks her tongue out at him, “thank you very much.” She tries to swipe the cup with her left hand. Her right arm is still wrapped around Izuku’s left.
Shouto pulls the cup out of reach. She glares at him but lets go with a huffy sigh. The warmth from her body still lingers.
Shouto gives them both a cup. “How’s your elbow by the way?”
“My elbow’s fine, and thanks.” Izuku gratefully accepts the warm cup. He takes a sip to test the temperature; it’s scalding hot. He winces and pulls the cup away. He’ll let it cool.
“What happened to it?” Ochako eyes his elbow.
“I had a minor accident yesterday.” He taps his pointer finger against the cup. He scans the cast chairs again.
They should probably sit down. Unlike Izuku, Shouto and Ochako have a lot of physical activity in this scene. They’re probably tired from all the running and choreography.
“An accident?” Ochako arches her brows.
Izuku glances back to give Ochako a steady look. “I pulled it during my workout routine last night.”
Ochako purses her lips, she studies his eyes, “Did you remember to stretch properly?”
“Of course I did.” Izuku turns away and sets a brisk pace towards the cast chairs. Two actors wearing police uniforms get up to leave at almost the exact same time. The tail-end of a passing annoyed expression on their faces.
Izuku flips around and starts walking backwards: Just going to pretend he didn’t see those annoyed eye rolls. He takes a sip of his coffee. His nose scrunches up. It’s cooler now, but not quite enough.
“You’re walking backward?” Ochako gives him a questioning look.
“Just felt like it.” Izuku shrugs, he taps his pointer finger against his cup again, “By the way, Shouto what’s your shoe size again?”
Shouto presses his lips together, eyes on Izuku’s coffee cup, “9.5, why?”
“Do you have any formal shoes I can borrow for tomorrow?”
“When do you need them by?”
“Is 6 AM okay?” Izuku glances behind him to scope out the cast chairs. He does not see anyone else being overtly hostile—other than Monoma that is. He whips around to walk the rest of the way facing forward.
“That’s fine.” Shouto follows his line of sight to Monoma. He frowns.
Kaminari brightens and waves vibrantly at the trio. Exaggeratedly patting the empty seat next to him as he flags them down.
“Yooo! What’s up, guys!”
The three of them return his greeting simultaneously.
Izuku slides into the seat next to the blond, returning Kaminari’s friendly smile with his own. Ochako sits next to him, legs crossed, coffee in her lap as she waves back. Shouto remains standing. He faces the three of them, but his eyes are looking further back where Monoma is sitting next to Kendou.
“How’s your arm Midoriya?” Kaminari’s expression puckers with concern.
“It’s okay.” Izuku smiles but it’s more placating than anything else, “I wasn’t injured or anything like that—”
“Yeah,” Monoma snides, “clearly not injured enough to put a stop to the entire production you self-important prick.”
Awkward silence.
Ochako attempts to jump out of her chair, but Izuku’s left hand lunges to grab her shoulder before she can. He silences her annoyed look with his own. She sighs and slumps back into her seat, chin against her hand. Izuku let's go.
Shouto’s eyes narrow into furious glare, “Cut that sh*t out—”
Izuku lightly kicks him in the shin.
The two-toned man’s angry expression breaks into slight disappointment before quickly vanishing. He frowns at Izuku.
Izuku frowns right back. What is he thinking? He was definitely about to say something incredibly unfiltered. Is he trying to get fired?
“What’s the problem? Not even going to deny it?” Monoma continues taunting. He hunches forward, arms braced against his thighs.
“Monoma.” Kendou warns. Disappointment lies thick in her voice.
Izuku bounces his knees. He fiddles with the collar of his shirt—right where his mic is hidden. It’s better to just ignore it. Monoma’s not going to last long in the industry anyway: At least not with that attitude.
“Come on Kendou,” Exasperation bleeds through Monoma’s tone, “you have to at least agree with me! We could have wrapped this scene up ages ago but this—”
“Stop.”
The promised darkness in Kendou’s voice is enough to shut anyone up.
She pinches her nose, gets up, and yanks him out of his chair.
Monoma stiffens.
Kendou wipes the dark look from her face and turns to everyone else with a sweet expression, “Sorry about him. He’s still kind of a greenhorn.” She chuckles but even Izuku could hear the apprehension in it, “I’ll get him whipped in shape next time we work together.” With a polite but apologetic dip of her head, she drags Monoma off. Probably to have a very stern conversation with the man.
Annoyance circles Monoma like a cloud of cicadas.
Kaminari subtly, not so subtly reaches for the soundbox that’s attached to the back of his belt. Discreetly, he turns off his hidden mic. He leans in close, voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t take what he said too personally,” The blond shrugs, he eyes the rest of the people here, “he’s um… Kind of like that with everyone.”
“It’s okay,” He feigns an awkward laugh, “I’ve dealt with worse.”
From what he’s been told about Monoma, Izuku is surprised the man’s even been allowed to reprise his role. Tartarus Studios must have one hell of a PR team if none of these cast conflicts even made a peep among interviews or news outlets.
Izuku can’t tell if that realization should comfort, or terrify him.
When Sunday rolls around, the skies are cloudy, and not a single ray of sunshine peeks past his hotel room curtains.
His alarm blares obnoxiously. A pounding incessant ringing against his ears forcefully drags him away from one of his rare peaceful slumbers.
Izuku groans.
Why does the funeral have to be so early? And so far too?
He peels his face from his pillow to squint at the alarm: 5 AM.
He should start getting ready now or he’ll risk getting stuck in LA traffic.
Ugh.
Begrudgingly he tosses off the warm duvet and swings his legs off the side of the mattress. Feet landing squarely on the off-white carpet floor. He stumbles to the bathroom and grinds through his morning routine. This time, when he’s applying his makeup, he’s sure to cover the bruise on his right elbow too.
By 6:05 AM he’s out of his room and in front of Shouto’s hotel room, two floors down.
The rap of his knuckles against the white wood dissipates like morning mist in the quiet hall. Nothing—not even a peep. Shouto must still be asleep. He was never a morning person.
Izuku exhales in tired commiseration. His eyelids are still heavy with lead. He really wants to crawl back into bed, or maybe even lean his back against the wall behind him, but he can’t. If he does, he’s pretty sure he’ll fall right back asleep. With a magnum amount of effort, he raises his arm and knocks the door again. This time a little louder.
Sorry Shouto.
After a little more waiting, the door cracks open to reveal Shouto leaning against it, a pair of black formal shoes in hand. His heterochromatic eyes are half-closed. Split hair messy from having just woken. He fumbles against the door, before seemingly giving up and leaning against it to keep it open.
“Good morning Izuku.” Shouto yawns while handing him the shoes.
“Morning Shouto.” Izuku breezes past the doorway. He stops short of a couple of inches from the entrance. Swiftly dropping a knee to the floor to trade his sneakers, “Thanks for letting me borrow your shoes.”
“Of course.” Shouto yawns again, just barely managing to get his words out properly. He nudges Izuku’s now-removed sneakers against the wall, “Where are you going that requires formal wear anyway?”
“It’s a…” Izuku hesitates, “...A funeral.”
“Oh.” Shouto frowns, concern all over his face. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
Izuku just shrugs and finishes tying the laces. Once the shoes are snug, he stands and taps his feet against the off-white carpet to test the fit. They’re a similar enough size that he doesn’t notice much of a difference. There’s just a bit of extra space near the toes.
When Izuku looks up from the shoes he finds Shouto staring at him intensely. Heterochromatic eyes meet a forest green.
“What? Is there something wrong with my makeup?” Izuku glances down to double-check his outfit. “Is it my outfit? Or is it the tie?” He tugs on his too-short tie, “It’s the tie isn’t it?”
“There’s nothing wrong with how you look.” Shouto gently grabs his fidgeting hands, “And it’s not the tie—” He stops. He purses his lips. “—okay maybe a little bit.” He hovers his hands near Izuku’s neck, silently asking for permission.
Izuku blushes fiercely from the embarrassment. He drops his hands to give Shouto room to work.
Shouto shakes his head despite his smile. “I can’t believe you still can’t tie a tie. Who usually ties the one for your costume?”
The amused knowing in his voice warrants three clip-on senses of dignity.
“Hatsume or Rachel.” Izuku mumbles quietly, half-hoping Shouto wouldn’t hear him. He hides his bright pink face behind his hands, “Please don’t tell Tenya. He’d be so disappointed.”
Shouto chuckles softly as he finishes the last loop.
When Izuku peeks from behind his hands, Shouto catches his eyes from the gap between Izuku’s fingers. A fond smile on the two-toned man’s face.
“Don’t worry Izuku, your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks.” Izuku mumbles. His face is still a dusty pink as he lowers his hands. He takes one step back toward the open door. A hopeful smile tugs across his lips, “I’ll see you later?”
There’s a pregnant pause as Shouto grabs the doorknob. His face is cast low, so Izuku can’t quite make out where he’s looking.
After a brief moment, he looks up from his lashes.
His blue and brown eyes land solidly on Izuku’s face.
“I’ll see you later.” Shouto’s eyes never leave his face, “I’ll be here if you need anything, so—” his knuckles whiten around the doorknob, “—if anything happens, don’t keep it to yourself okay?”
Izuku blinks, caught somewhat off guard. He resists the urge to stiffen up like a cornered animal and opts to gently slip his right hand into his pants pockets. He ignores the twinge of protest from his elbow.
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Izuku kneads his left hand against the back of his neck, “I can take care of myself.”
“I know. I just… Wanted to let you know.” Shouto moves his hand to rest against the door. “That’s all.”
Izuku’s eyes skitter to the side. Why does he always seem to be worrying them? Dragging them along into all of his problems. Isn’t it bad enough he’s already jeopardizing the film’s release? It’d be even worse if the predictions come true and the movie does flop. Would they still be friends after that?
He can’t imagine they would be
Izuku lets out a strained sort of chuckle.
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
They go their separate ways after that.
Shouto shuffles into his room, probably going back to bed while Izuku returns to the elevator.
Before the metal doors can slide open, he puts on his fake glasses and black mask. Quickly making his way through the mostly empty lobby. The only people up at this ungodly hour are the receptionist and the security guard.
The knot of worry since his conversation with Shouto sits heavy in his gut. He shakes it off. He’ll worry about his interpersonal relationships when the time comes.
For now, he hits the LA streets to find his ride.
When he spots the silver Lexus Izuku comes up to the shotgun window to confirm his identity with the Uber driver. The man rolls it down. Arm braced against the passenger seat as he checks his phone.
“You’re—” the driver squints at the screen, “—Ninth? What? Like the number?”
Izuku just shrugs as he climbs into the back seat.
“It’s a childhood nickname.“
Seliana<3 @seliana<3
No disrespect but what bigshot died that they had to block off the entire street? The parking lot’s full too ; ~ ; I have to park somewhere else with even more expensive parking, I just wanted to visit my mother today and idek if I’ll be able to get in.
[A picture taken at a four-way intersection leading up to a memorial park called Daisy Hills. The road’s been sectioned off by police officers. One of the officers can be seen checking ID’s.
Along the sidewalk to the park is a long line of people who are wearing all black. The park itself is massive, and consists mostly of rolling green hills, peppered with the occasional row of daisy flowerbeds, and towering pines. A cathedral lies at the bottom near the gated entrance. Birch trees can be seen dotted around the building.]
94 Replies | 199 Retweets | 23 Favorites
7:29 PM - 4 January xx
MonarchButterflies @butterflylover76
Replying to @seliana<3
Wait is that @SarahGossamer i see in line???
2 Replies | 5 Retweets | 0 Favorites
7:30 PM - 4 January xx
Genji @ineedhealing
Replying to @butterflylover76
omg that is and im pretty sure i see @Issacy & @PedroOfficial & @Shinso
0 Replies | 0 Retweets | 0 Favorites
7:30 PM - 4 January xx
TravelinLocal @hurmburger
Replying to @seliana<3
Oh I know that memorial park! You can park in the complex for the shopping outlet just down the street for $5/hour. Its a huge walk but its cheaper then the other options. You can also get the price reduced too if you validate your parking in one of the stores at the outlet!!! Goodluck & I hope you get to see your mother O7
0 Replies | 0 Retweets | 0 Favorites
7:30 PM - 4 January xx
Acerton @acerton
Replying to @seliana<3
Bro almost the whole VIGILANTE cast is there???? Im OMW RN do u think they’ll do autograph signings???
1 Replies | 0 retweets | 0 favorites
7:30 PM - 4 January XX
MonarchButterflies @butterflylover76
Replying to @acerton
wtf is wrong with u they're at a memorial park it doesnt take that many braincells to figure out they’re there for a funeral or something, of course they’re not going to do autograph signins!
0 Replies | 0 Retweets | 0 Favorites
7:40 PM - 4 January xx
Corndawg @butw/othecorn
Replying to @acerton
Yea dude what @butterflylover76 said. Theyre prolly there for @Bradleyizhere funeral, its not gonna kill you to show some respect. Besides theres no way they’ll let you past the police barricade, you prolly need an invite or something. Can’t you see the officers are checking identities?
0 Replies | 0 Retweets | 5 Favorites
7:40 PM - 4 January xx
Izuku arrives at 9:00 AM, 30 minutes before the reception ends.
Luckily, this means there isn’t much of a line at the gate. He checks in with the police officer pretty quickly and they let him through the barricade. He steps past the gate to take the long, winding sidewalk up to the cathedral that’s at the bottom of the rolling green hills.
According to Charlie, there’s another line to get into the church, and that one is the actual identity check. That’s the one he’s mildly worried about. Normally when he’s going incognito he wears a cap too, but well, it’s a funeral.
A cap isn’t gonna fly.
He can only hope the mask and glasses are enough and no one recognizes him.
Izuku walks through the filled parking lot to get to the cathedral. He hops over the bed of daisies to stop by one of the winter-stripped birch trees. A circular fountain sits in front of the entrance, partially blocking out the view to the entrance where a line of people have gathered. A one-foot-tall hedge outlines the cathedral’s front garden space.
This place is packed.
Even if it’s a celebrity funeral it’s still way larger than he expected—but then again, this is Bradley Loam. He wasn’t just a predicted break-out star: He’s the son of Sophia Loam, an A-list actor from the New Hollywood era.
As he sweeps his eyes over the people in line, he recognizes quite a few faces. Some from Vigilante, some from movies, and shows he’s seen, and others from previous projects he’s been on.
People from all over the industry are here.
Nervously, Izuku adjusts his mask and glasses.
He should get going. They must be letting people in now since the line’s starting to move. Izuku roots through his pockets for his phone as he jumps over the small hedge. By the time he’s at the end of the line, a few other late-arrival stragglers come up behind him. He unlocks the screen and starts searching through his text-message list for Charlie’s.
< Messages Charlie Loam Edit >
Yesterday
1:34 PM
I’m adding you to the guest list
right now. Is it okay if I put you
under Midoriya Izuku?
Yesterday
2:30 PM
actually could u put me under Ninth
instead? i would really appreciate
it > ^ <
Yesterday
2:31 PM
Okay.
Yesterday
2:40 PM
Here’s your invite, show it to the employee
at the line to enter the cathedral. They
should let you in.
[Link to a PDF of the funeral invite under
the name Ninth.]
Yesterday
3:40 PM
thank you!
Izuku downloads the PDF when he nears the front of the line. There are only 5 more people to go before it’s his turn. The employee managing the red velvet rope, unhooks it from the brass pole to let in the guest at the signal of the other employee who’s busy cross-referencing guest’s invites with whatever is on her iPad. When the guest crosses, the male employee clips the rope back in place.
The line shuffles forward.
As the next person comes up in line, a sharp, anguished cry draws everyone’s attention to the door. The male employee handling the rope, frantically unclips it again.
“Let go of me! You can’t take me away!” A woman with long black hair is kicking and screaming as a pair of security guards haul her out. “I have every right to be here!”
Her black dress is wrinkled and scrunched at her knees. Long yellow-painted fingernails dig their way into one of the disgruntled security guard’s arms. A trickle of blood runs down from where she’s sunk them in.
Izuku winces in sympathy.
“Don’t you dare—” she hisses, her black heels dig into the grass. She throws a pointed glare behind her, “—don’t you f*cking dare,” she repeats, hissing again, “take me away from my Bradley!”
Charlie walks out from the entrance behind them. She stands atop the stairs, staring down, signaling with her hands to keep the guards from dragging her away further. Her expression is set in a clipped neutrality but the shaking from the black clutch in her hands gives her fury-laden emotions away.
She walks down. Each step is heavy with a severe amount of purpose; like a death march.
She crouches down to meet the furious woman at eye level.
“Bradley does not want to see you.” She states coldly, “And he never will want to.” Her dark blue eyes are narrowed impossibly thin as she points to the gated entrance.
“Now,” Charlie continues tersely, “get her out of my sight.”
The woman kicks out furiously. Her coal-black eyes search the front of the cathedral, pleading like she’s trying to ask for help. They scour every single person in line. When they land on Izuku—
—he turns his head away, tugging up his mask.
“You don’t deserve to bury him!” She snarls as the men work to drag her off. Her words are a petty fueled storm like one last act of desperation, “You couldn’t even keep him alive! You couldn’t protect him from sh*t!”
Charlie turns around coldly. A crack lies on her face; a flash of hurt in her wide eyes before quickly disappearing. Her footsteps are disturbingly loud as she walks back into the cathedral. The male employee awkwardly reclips the velvet rope.
The silence outside is deathly.
You know, Izuku can see why security is so tight now.
“Um, hey.” The person behind him taps his shoulder. Izuku almost jumps out of his skin. They point in front of him expectantly, “It’s your turn.”
Izuku hurries up front, a sheepish smile breaks out across his face despite his mask. He shows her the invite on his phone. She narrows her eyes against it. Lips pursed as she scrolls through the iPad screen. The next time they make eye contact, her eyebrows are raised in an almost questioning manner, like she wants to ask him a question but refrains from it.
With her free hand, she motions for him to get through, before calling for the next person in line.
He walks through after the male employee lets him pass the rope. Quickly reattaching it to the brass pole once he’s past.
The church lighting is quite frankly, really dim as he makes his way to the main hall. Low conversations sound out, mixing in with the low symphony of choir music that’s being played over some speakers.
The main hall is massive. Two security guards have been posted by every doorway. A dome shape forms the roof. Yellow flowers and bouquets decorate every empty space possible. From stands to walls, there’s barely any place that hasn’t been touched by them. Rows upon rows of dark-oak wooden benches are neatly laid out in the center. Most of them are filled. Izuku can see Charlie sitting at the front along with whom he assumes to be the rest of the Loam family.
At the very end of the space, the only place devoid of people, the open mahogany red casket lies all on its lonesome.
He slips his way past the group of people crowding the entrance. Sequestering himself to the last row, in the furthest corner away from everyone else.
He checks his phone: 9:13 AM. The reception should be wrapping up in 17 minutes.
“Hey.”
Izuku jerks his head behind him. A man with wild purple hair is leaning against the church backrest, arms crossed over the wood—
“Oh my god, Shinso?”
“Yep.” He points to the spot next to him, “Mind if I sit here?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Izuku pulls his knees in so Shinso can pass him. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you since Vigilante.”
The purple-haired man plops next to him, both hands in his pockets.
“I’ve been good.” Shinso shrugs, “More worried about you actually since you dropped off the radar for the past two years.” He shoots him a puzzled expression, “Did I—” hesitation crosses his chronically tired features, “—do something to piss you off? You’ve been ignoring all my texts for… Like a while.”
“What? No!” Izuku panickedly waves in front of him, “It’s just-um, I had to get a new phone a while back,” he rubs his thumb against his palms, “and I lost my old phone so I-uh couldn’t exactly import all my contacts.”
As an apologetic offering, he opens his contact list and gives Shinso his phone, “Sorry.”
Shinso shrugs. He takes his phone to input his number, “Don’t apologize, stuff happens. I get it. I’m just glad you’re not mad at me or anything.” He hands it back.
Izuku crams his phone into his pocket. He makes a mental note to himself to get Shinso a gift as a further apology. Two years is a long time to ghost somebody.
“Anyways, what have you been up to recently?” Izuku leans against the backrest, “I heard you retired after Vigilante?”
Shinso shrugs as he settles into his seat, “Yeah, I retired. Being on that…” his eyes shift over Izuku, “...set made me realize I don’t want to pursue acting as a career.”
“So what do you do now?”
“I run a cat cafe in downtown LA.”
“Wait really?” Izuku brightens. “That’s awesome! I’m glad you’ve finally opened one! Where is it? Can I visit?”
“Of course, you even get a discount on all the menu options.” Shinso cracks one of his rare soft smiles, “I’ll text you the address. Also, I know this is late but congrats on getting cast as Deku. That’s huge.”
“Thanks.”
“I'm serious,” Shinso raises a brow, “I’m looking forward to it. I’m sure you’re gonna make a killer villain.”
“Thank you.” A pink blush creeps up on his cheeks, “But you don’t have to flatter me or anything.” Izuku glances away, to stare down the aisle in hopes Shinso won’t see his embarrassed flush. That’s when he makes eye contact with a tall male with black cropped hair, who’s talking to the Loam family at the front. His thick eyebrows twitch. Something like recognition flickers across his face.
The man stops his conversation short. He starts walking.
Izuku can feel his stomach hit the floor.
“I’m not trying to flatter you. Take it from one villain actor to another, despite what everyone says I…” Shinso trails off next to him to follow his line of sight.
Izuku has the fleeting thought to get up and leave before this becomes a situation but his feet remain glued to the floor. The man’s already seen and recognized him. Leaving now would be pointless. Plus, he looks furious enough that Izuku is pretty sure he’d get chased for answers anyway.
The man marches right up to Izuku. A hand gripping the backrest behind Izuku’s head as he crowds him. His voice is a low burning seethe.
“What the hell are you doing here and how the hell did you get in?!”
“I was invited.” Izuku is careful to keep his voice even.
“Invited?!” The man says outraged. His voice peaks into a shout, shattering the once-comfortable atmosphere. Collectively, the people in the venue turn to look at the sudden ruckus. Tension ripples through the church as people share confused but anxious expressions.
A blanket of silence descends over the cathedral.
Izuku cringes internally at the sudden spike in attention.
He didn’t want to make this funeral awkward by being here, but guess he can cross that off the ‘don’t-do-list’.
The man recoils violently. As if the sheer offense of the words Izuku uttered had physically dealt a blow to him. His hands tighten at his sides. Anger, frustration, and irritation radiating off of him in waves.
“Bullsh*t! Who in their right f*cking mind,” He spits, as he rapidly turns his head around to search the crowd, ”would invite you?!” After a second of looking, he motions to the guards by the left-wing door, ”Security! We have another asshole who snuck in!”
The guards start moving.
Izuku tenses.
This escalated very fast.
“Hey, please wait.” Izuku keeps his voice calm, reaching for his phone in his pocket, “I can show you my invite. Please just wait—”
“Goddamn it! Cody stop!” Charlie comes running down from the front, shouting. Face tight with all kinds of emotions. “And security you too!”
The guards stop right next to Izuku. They share confused looks among themselves before stepping back to let Charlie through.
“Charlie what the hell do you mean stop?!” Cody hisses. “You want this asshole to stay?! After what he’s done?!”
“That’s enough.” Charlie shoots him a furious look. “I was the one who invited him.” Her face splintering with grief for a fraction of a second, “And besides, you know how much he wanted to see him again, you were his best friend, weren’t you? You should know that at least.”
Izuku frowns at the last statement. Partially glad that his mask covers it. His eyes trail off to the casket. A twinge of regret sparks through him.
He had no idea.
Cody’s face twists. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. Teeth gnashing as he glares at Izuku for a good five seconds. The internal war in his mind is plain as day. Finally, after a long 10 seconds, he concedes.
“You owe me an explanation after this.” He hisses, just about to storm back down the aisle when he stops.
A large well built man with russet brown hair that’s streaked with grey has taken up the center. Fully blocking any access.
sh*t.
It’s Bradley’s dad.
Izuku’s eyebrows furrow with distaste as the recognition hits him.
“I’m sorry—” The man’s sharp eyebrows angle down furiously. A line of people follow behind him.
Judging from the resemblance, it must be the rest of the Loam family, extended and all.
Oh f*ck.
“—you invited, him ?!”
If the cat wasn’t out of the bag before, it’s out now.
Izuku shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
Charlie grits her teeth, “Yes Lucas , I did.”
“You’re absolutely unbelievable Charlie.” He shoves his way past Cody. His body shakes with uncontrollable anger. His hands flex and unflex constantly—Izuku eyes him nervously. “Going against your family like this!” He gets up in Charlie’s space and looms over her, “Why the hell did you invite him?!”
“Who I invite—” Charlie narrows her eyes at him in blatant defiance, “—or don’t has nothing to do with this godforsaken family.”
“Fine.” Lucas grits out. “If you don’t want to invite the people who really matter, then you don’t get to invite this,” He aims his molten hot glare at Izuku, “ bastard . Security! Get him out of here!”
The guards grab Izuku, a shoulder each. Grip threateningly tight.
“Hey, hey!” Izuku stands up himself. Hands up in a placating motion. “You don’t have to exert force! I’ll be compliant—!”
“STOP!”
Charlie shoves herself between Izuku and the guards, forcing them to let go.
Izuku remains standing. The hair at the back of his neck stands on its ends as he realizes just how many people have crowded around them.
“I’m the one paying for this goddamned f*cking funeral!” Her voice is shrill, tight, and tense. Breathing going in and out at carefully measured intervals. She snaps her fingers at the guards. She directs them back to their post with a volcanic look, “As the funeral host, I have the final say in the matter! You don’t take orders from anyone else!” Her eyes burn a hole right through their uniform.
“Understand?”
The guards nod vigorously. They back off immediately.
Charlie whirls around to meet Lucas.
“So this is why you insisted on paying.” Lucas spits out. His thick arms crossed over his chest as his face twists, “You wanted to control the guest list. Is inviting him supposed to be some petty slight against me?!”
“I did it for my brother.” She grinds her teeth and points to the front row, “Now go sit your asses back down, or I will have you removed from the premises.”
After a long, dragged-out silence people start shuffling back and clearing the aisle. The atmosphere is still thick with tension. People amble along, waiting for the traffic to clear. The last one to leave is Lucas who gives Izuku a hard glare before going.
Izuku resists the urge to glare back.
Charlie swallows thickly, and gives him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry about that- about—” her face tightens, “—everything.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Izuku awkwardly sits back down. “Thank you for letting me stay.”
Charlie for her part, lingers. Izuku catches the briefest flicker of surprise mixed with mild disappointment that vanishes like morning dew. She gives him a curt nod. Taking a deep breath before walking back to the front row. The click of her heels poignant as the people part ways for her.
The comfortable atmosphere from before never comes back.
Shinso scratches the back of his neck. He eyes Izuku from where he’s sitting. “Quite the funeral reception.”
Izuku snorts without an ounce of humor.
He takes off his mask and glasses, shoving them into his left pocket with a heavy sigh.People from all across the hall are throwing looks back. Carrying their hushed conversations behind their hands. Izuku just sighs and politely pretends not to notice.
So much for going incognito.
The funeral breaks for lunch at 1:00 PM.
Which means Izuku is finally allowed outside the venue. He stands up from the bench when everybody filters out for the free lunch being offered at the attached buildings. His shoulder pops as he pulls his arms over his head for an indulgent stretch.
Shinso stands up next to him, “Are you gonna grab lunch?”
Izuku shakes his head. Still stretching. Sitting for four hours straight has made him really stiff.
“Nah, not feeling hungry.” He drops his arms, “Feel free to grab it without me. I’m going for a walk.”
“You sure?” Shinso looks him up and down, “The burial’s coming up and the funeral’s not ending till three.”
“I’m good.”
He’s really not feeling it. The Loams aren’t exactly subtle about their disapproval. During some of their speeches, a couple of them took a jab at him and Charlie. Talk about petty. If this is what happens when they’re in public, Izuku can’t imagine what goes on with them behind closed doors.
They should consider filming a reality TV show. He might watch it.
Izuku leaves before Shinso can protest further. He walks down the aisle and passes the crowd on his way to the backdoor exit.
“I can’t believe he’s really here.”
“Why did Charlie invite him? What was she thinking—?!”
“What right does he have to show up here?”
Izuku picks up the pace.
He ignores the few people he managed to overhear.
Seriously, if they’re gonna talk about him, could they at least try to be subtle about it? They’re not even trying to hide it at this point. With all the constant looks, glares, and hushed whispers; they might as well paint it in neon.
Sunlight hits his face when he pushes past the heavy wooden door and into the back garden. It’s bright enough that Izuku has to squint as he walks under the walkway. The skies cleared up since this morning. Instead of somber grey, the sky is a bright blue. Golden rays pour through the open archways as he trains his eyes on the flower garden ahead.
The soles of his shoes click loudly against the stone-paved path.
With a pinched frown, he ducks into the relative safety of the nearby flower garden. Patches of white gladioluses dot the edges of the path. Tall well-trimmed cypress trees line the outer edges of the space, sheltering him from the outside. A small water fountain sits at the center. In each of it’s cardinal directions is a stone bench.
A shaky breath escapes him as he sits down on the east one.
“Finally alone.” He murmurs to himself.
He cards a tired hand through his hair.
Pretending not to notice people talking sh*t about him is f*cking draining. He’s well aware that as an actor, this kind of stuff just comes with the job. But man—he sucks in a breath—it’s f*cking exhausting.
Maybe he should just leave.
He’s obviously not welcome here.
He can’t leave though. He owes Bradley at least this much.
Izuku closes his eyes again and focuses on the sound of running water. After some time, not really sure how much—Izuku manages to pull himself together. His breathing is back under his control and the simmering feeling of annoyance that’s been plaguing him all day has cooled.
“Hey.”
Izuku flings his eyes open, his heart almost jumps out of his throat. Jeez. He almost forgot how quiet Shinso can be at times. The man’s standing over him, holding two water bottles, and a pack of Lays chips.
“You doing alright?” He offers him a bottle and the pack of chips.
“I’m fine.” Izuku scooches over so he can sit. “Thanks for getting me stuff, but you didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” Shinso plops down. He takes a swig of his own water bottle.
Izuku sets the stuff aside.
It’s weird.
It’s been at least two years since the two of them have seen each other, but nothing’s really changed about it. Especially since it was Izuku who did the (accidental) ghosting. Despite their rocky first meeting, they ended up pretty close while working together on set. But still, Izuku would have expected at least some change in dynamic. The last person he went years without talking to was Katsuki.
And man, Izuku really felt the damage the silent period did to their relationship after having a chance encounter with him at the auditions for Lemillion’s first movie.
Although… It’s also kind of heartwarming.
Even if everything goes to sh*t it’s nice to know there’s one relationship that won’t drastically change. Shinso is sitting, completely relaxed. Hands against the sun-warmed bench. Head tipped up towards the sky. Eyes closed. He’s still enough that at a passing glance, you might have thought the man was sleeping.
Izuku knows better though.
He should really get him a ‘sorry-for-accidentally-ghosting-you-for-two-years-please-forgive-me’ gift. Not sure what though. The last time they spoke Shinso was really into obscure 90’s anime. Is he still into that? Should he go for something safe and get him something cat-related instead? Or both? Should he get both—?
Shinso blinks his eyes open. He quirks up a single eyebrow, “Glad to know you’re still the same.”
“Uh, thanks?” Izuku blanks, “I think?”
“You were mumbling for a while.”
“I was?” Izuku snaps his hand over his mouth, “I’m so sorry that must have been so—wait,” he pales with sudden realization, “how much of that did you catch?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Shinso smile-smirks.
“Shinso.” Izuku pleads, “Please tell?”
“I’ll think about it.” Shinso hums, pleasantly satisfied with himself. He stands up after checking his watch and starts heading out of the garden. Completely relaxed; as if he hasn’t just sent Izuku into a flurry of embarrassed panic.
“Hey—!” Izuku swipes the stuff Shinso gave him and scrambles after him. “I’m serious! Don’t leave me hanging Shinso!”
Shinso stops at the doorway, waiting for him to catch up. A thoughtful expression is on his face. Right hand rubbing the underside of his chin. When Izuku is by his side again, he pushes the door open for both of them.
“I’m still into obscure 90’s anime.”
Izuku sighs with relief at Shinso’s laurel offering, “Which one are you into right now?”
“It’s called ‘The Big One’.” Shinso puts his hands into his pockets again, “Have you heard of it?”
“No. What’s it about?”
Shinso starts describing it in very intense detail. It’s a sci-fi action comedy about a pair of private eye detectives. The pair get into various hijinks while attempting to solve the crimes they’ve been hired for.
Hopefully, Izuku can find some kind of merch for it online. Since it’s Shinso, when he says obscure, he means obscure-obscure. It’ll be tough.
Izuku drops the bag of chips at his bench when they walk past it.
They’re following the crowd outside the cathedral, probably to the burial site. Their own conversation gets drowned out by everyone else’s the closer they get. People are boarding the buses that are parked in front. Eventually, all of the buses get filled, so Izuku and Shinso board the last one. Which Izuku is mildly grateful for.
There’s not a single Loam family member on this one.
It’s not long until they’re shuttled to the burial site at the highest hill before climbing back out. Some white tents and a massive amount of chairs have been set up a distance away from the open grave. Daisies pepper the grass. White clouds roll over them. A light breeze blows past.
Izuku blocks out the sun with his hand. He looks up.
It’s a nice day.
Shinso and him don’t take a seat like some of the others. They idle off to the side, in a secluded area near a birch tree. Watching things from afar while carrying on an easy conversation.
Shinso’s cat cafe is doing well, and he’s honestly been enjoying life now that he’s no longer part of the industry—which Izuku is happy for him. He did used to wonder why Shinso was an actor to begin with; the man never seemed to tolerate the stuff that’s attached to the career very well: The fame, the social & media politics, the required industry networking, and all that jazz.
This isn’t a job to pursue unless you really, really love the craft.
Izuku might understand his sentiments (painfully so) , but hearing Shinso’s words does strike him with a tinge of regret. They’ll probably never work together ever again. That thought makes his chest a little tight.
“Hey! Midoriya! Shinso!”
Their conversation gets interrupted by Sarah and Issac. Two other Vigilante cast members, who are also, together, which Izuku later learns when they start catching up. Makes sense now that he thinks about it. They did get along super well on set.
“We’re retired too.” Sarah huffs with a hint of wistfulness. She swings her hand that’s holding Issac's. “We’re just normal office workers now.”
“Yep.” Issac nods, “Congratulations on the Deku role by the way.”
“Oh, yeah!” Sarah’s smile crinkles the corner of her eyes, “Congrats! That’s awesome! I’m glad to see you’re still acting even after everything!”
“Same here.” Shinso peers at Izuku curiously, “I’m not gonna lie, but I thought you were going to retire after Vigilante like most of us. I was really surprised to hear you got the Deku role.”
“Thanks guys.” Izuku rubs the back of his neck. “I was definitely thinking about retiring during my… Hiatus. Didn’t though,” He shrugs, “as you can clearly see.”
“Is there a reason why you didn’t?” Shinso prods him with an almost cat-like curiosity.
“I-uh,” He shifts his eyes to the city skyline, “promised an old friend of mine we’d star in a movie together a while back. So even if I wanted to,” A chuckle somewhere between strained and disbelief leaves his lips, “I can’t dip out just yet…” He trails off, eyebrows furrowing. His eyes flick back to the group once he realizes exactly what he just said.
Mortification mixes in with embarrassment; they’re all staring at him.
“Is that sappy?”
“A little bit.” Shinso scrunches his nose. “Kinda cringe, but since it’s you I’ll let it slide.”
“It’s not cringe!” Sarah slaps Shinso’s shoulder lightly, “I think it’s really sweet!” She offers Izuku a glittery smile.
“They must be a really good friend if you’re still sticking out Hollywood’s bullsh*t for them.” Issac meets Izuku’s eyes with raised, curious brows. “Who is it? Are they big? B-list? Or A-list?”
Izuku smiles half-heartedly.
He points to the commotion behind them.
“Looks like the burials going to start soon.” His half-hearted smile drops a bit, “We should get going or we’ll miss the flower throwing.”
Some of the Loam family members are handing out yellow roses to those who didn’t bring their own. Most of the attendees here are empty handed, save for a couple family members with large yellow-themed bouquets.
They walk back to remerge with the larger group. Seamlessly blending in with the crowd at the back since Izuku would prefer to avoid some of the Loams at the front. Most of them are the adults of the family. They’re circled around the casket as it’s being prepared, resting their bouquets, comforting each other, and occasionally throwing glares back in Izuku’s direction.
Izuku ducks his head.
His eyes snag on a familiar young girl who’s running around in a black tea dress, no older then 8. Delicately handing out bouquets with an older woman by her side. He doesn’t recognize the woman, but he assumes she’s Jessica’s family member. The two work their way through the crowd. When Jessica comes up to him—she freezes. Her yellow eyes blow wide as she comes upon his face.
“Hi, Jessica.” Izuku gives her a soft smile, “How have you been?”
Jessica opens her mouth like she wants to say something before she closes it. Her face shutters. Izuku frowns. She shuffles her feet against the grass, toes pointing together as she plucks a rose from her bouquet. Silently, she offers him a yellow rose to take.
But before Izuku could even reach for it, the older woman snatches it back. Her glare barely hidden under her elongated lashes.
“I’m sorry,” The woman looks up, smiling with fool’s gold, “Jessica’s been mute since her brother’s accident.”
She’s mute now? Is she okay?
He suppresses the urge to fire off questions and schools his face into a neutral expression. He shrugs off the looks he gets from the crowd around them, and the three retired actors by him. In particular, Shinso’s.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Izuku responds easily. “I hope she’s alright.”
“Oh, wouldn’t you be?” Her smile drips with sardonic sarcasm, “Now come along Jessica,” she returns her attention to Jessica, gently trying to nudge her along. “there are other guests who deserve flowers. We don’t want to keep your brother waiting do we?”
Jessica snatches a quick glance at the casket. Her face warbles. She tries again. Irritation flashes across the woman’s face as she grabs Jessica’s hand and tries to pull her along, but Jessica has planted herself on the ground. This exchange goes on for a while. It reaches a point Jessica looks like she’s going to burst into tears.
In the end, Izuku has to crouch down with a smile underpinned with regret.
“It’s okay Jessica, I don’t want one.” He motions to the three others next to him, “You can give them to other people who do want one.”
Jessica’s lip warbles. She hugs the bouquet to her chest. Eyes flying over his face.
Izuku smiles reassuringly.
After a moment, Jessica lowers her head. The woman rolls her eyes and takes this as a sign of her compliance. She plucks the bouquet of yellow roses from Jessica’s hands and outright drags Jessica further down the line. Fully taking on Jessica’s job and handing out flowers instead.
At least Shinso, Sarah, and Issac get one.
It’s a small comfort though because once everything’s been handed out, the woman squarely puts Jessica on one of the chairs. Alone. And clearly in time out. Jessica looks dejected when they happen to make eye contact. Small hands tugging at the ends of her dress. Chin against her chest as she angles her face away.
Izuku rubs the back of his neck to assuage the guilt bubbling under his skin.
Did he just make it worse?
He doesn’t get to mull the thought for very long though. Everyone’s attention gets called to the front as they’re asked to lower their heads before the casket is placed underground. Once it’s down, the people form a single file line to toss their flowers in.
Izuku is about to step aside to make room for the trio to get in line, but Shinso all but shoves his rose into Izuku’s hands before he could even react. Briskly stepping back to let Issac and Sarah crowd behind him to form a line. They fully prevent any form of escape, and Shinso is susipiciously out of sight.
Izuku squints: This was planned wasn’t it? He stares at them with open-faced betrayal.
Issac and Sarah only smile.
The open grave stretches before him when he gets to the front of the line. Dirt has been piled on the left side of the grave. The once deep red of the casket is buried under a mountain of yellow petals, and spring-green leaves. His grave stone features a picture of him from one of the marketing shoots they did for Vigilante . Not a personal one. It’s an odd choice, but it’s also a good picture, so he can see why they would choose it.
Izuku twirls the lone rose in his hands.
Yellow is a good choice.
It’s his color.
Matches his eyes. Fits his personality. Reflects who he was and all the like.
Izuku’s just about to drop it when he feels a particularly hard stare coming from his left. He looks up and makes direct eye contact with the woman who was with Jessica.
He’s not a petty person, but, well, the opportunity’s already here. It’d be a shame to let Shinso, Sarah, and Issac’s efforts go to waste. He makes direct eye contact with her, savors the rage in her clenched fist, and then drops the rose.
Her offended expression is one for the history books.
Izuku walks away. The rest of the line proceeds and Bradley gets buried in the color yellow. Tulips, Roses, Carnations, and flowers of every other type get poured down the grave. It’s not until everyone’s cleared from the grave that Izuku realizes with a fleeting sort of regret—
—The grave next to Bradley is severely weathered. The engraving is hard to parse, but Izuku can make out the name Sophia Loam in grand cursive. Under it are three epigraphs from her three children.
Two yellow roses adorn her grave.
Izuku thinks there should be a third.
Izuku finds himself in the cathedral sitting in the last row again after the funeral ended. Shinso, Sarah, and Issac left a while ago. They all cited different reasons: Shinso has to open his cat cafe, and Sarah & Issac have to catch a flight back to Europe.
Which leaves Izuku alone in the grand hall.
Sitting by himself.
He might spend the rest of his day here, honestly. It’s been a long time since he’s been on the set of a movie, so he’s almost forgotten just how exhausting they can be. Days off are scarce too due to the tight time schedule.
Being here is… Nice.
It’s calm. Quiet. Unmoving, as if time doesn’t pass here and he’s in his own little bubble. Blocked off from the outside world and it’s prying eyes.
“Aren’t you going to go home?” Charlie calls out behind him. The church door slams shut with a reverberating slam.
Izuku doesn’t bother turning his head to answer her.
“Aren’t you?”
The clicking of her heels gets louder as she slips into the space between the two benches and sits next to him. She rests her black clutch in her lap. Her dark blue eyes follow his gaze to the mosaic window, the evening sunlight filters through it, dappling the space with a myriad of colors.
“I was wrapping up some business with the funeral director.” She responds quietly.
“Did you wrap it up?”
“More or less.”
"That's good."
Izuku doesn’t question further.
They lapse into silence.
A gentle stillness blankets the cathedral.
He’s not sure how long they sit together for, but it’s a long time.
After a while, Izuku sneaks a glance in her direction. What’s she doing here? The funeral’s long over, she’s wrapped up her business with the funeral director, and Bradley’s outside—all that, and yet, she’s sitting next to him with no real reason for it.
"By the way,” He chances a curious glance at her, “how’s your little sister? Is she doing okay? I heard she’s mute now.”
Charlie fiddles with her purse, surprised, “She’s doing okay. The mute thing, it’s,” her face falls, “it’s a psychological thing according to the doctors. We haven’t figured out why she went mute but we’re teaching her sign language for the time being.”
He purses his lips.
“Did she go home?”
“Yeah, Lucas—” The scowl returns to her face, “—my father, he took her home.”
“You don’t seem to like your dad all that much.”
“Of course I don’t.” She snarks. She moves her clutch to the bench to free up her hands, “He’s a self-absorbed jerk who only wants to live vicariously through us—” She goes rigid, then slumps, “—I guess just me now.”
“Do you think Jessica is going to be okay?” Izuku shoots her a concerned look, “With your dad I mean?”
Charlie doesnt answer right away. Instead she looks at him from the corner of her eyes.
“How much has Bradley told you about our family?”
“Not a whole lot.” He tilts his head in Charlie’s direction before returning it to a neutral position, “Just that your dad and extended family are a bunch of asses.”
Charlie shoots him a look that’s asking for clarification.
“I’m paraphrasing, he didn’t actually say that.” Izuku absentmindedly runs his fingers over his right elbow. Doing a little better today. “Lucas was on set for Vigilante most of the time. I mostly just put two-and-two together, and Bradley confirmed it for me.”
Charlie chuckles. There’s no humor in it, but it sounds fond.
“Bradley’s not much of a cusser. He took after our Mom. Really soft, and kind, but kinda dumb, and naive too. The both of them… They always let other people get the best of them.” Her expression tapers off into a stormy look again.
She tucks a strand of her behind her ear, “I know I apologized earlier but I wanted to apologize again about my family—” Her hands tighten around her clutch, “—I heard they gave you a difficult time during the burial, and,” she chuckles dryily, “you know during the speeches and everything they were just so rude and—”
“You don’t have to apologize for their behaviour.” Izuku cuts her off gently, “I’m pretty sure they gave you the harder time anyways. They were… Bothering you alot.”
“They’re not very subtle, are they?” Charlie smiles both in resignation, and understanding.
Izuku makes a face. “They really aren’t.”
“Thank you by the way.” Charlie stares ahead of her to the empty spot where Bradley’s casket used to occupy, “For staying. Bradley I’m sure—” her voice cracks, “—he would have been really happy.”
“You don’t have to thank me.” Izuku says quietly.
They lapse into silence again. It’s only broken by the occasional rustle of clothes as they adjust their sitting positions. Izuku moves his hands to rest on top of his left knee. Charlie shifts her legs closer together, her clutch back in her hands.
She turns to face him with a pensive expression.
“I’ve been meaning to ask, but…” She sounds hesitant. Izuku looks at her from the corner of his vision, “What was your relationship with my brother?”
He mulls over his response. Left foot tapping against the ground.
They weren’t friends.
But they weren’t just work acquaintances either.
It was a relationship Izuku wasn’t sure how to define.
Bradley was 16 the first day he arrived on set. All bubbly and excited. He talked up a storm when he approached Izuku out of the blue—Wyldfyre was his favorite vigilante in the comic series. The kid was sad about not getting the role but was happy enough to be his sidekick. He remembers Bradley wouldn’t leave him alone that first day. It was his debut role, surprisingly. He had no idea how to manage himself on set. He bumbled after Izuku like a newborn puppy with starstruck eyes. Apparently, he had been a fan of Izuku before they had even met.
“I looked out for him.” Izuku says simply. He taps his thumbs together.
Charlie focuses her eyes away, she doesn’t respond but lets his words hang in the air. Like she’s trying to think through her words carefully. Her fingers are tight around her clutch. A pensive expression takes her face first, before shifting to apprehension.
She thumbs the bag in her lap.
“Can I ask you one last question?”
Izuku doesn’t move his head from where it’s facing forward, but he does shift his eyes to look at Charlie
“What’s the question?”
Charlie takes her time. Almost like she’s bracing herself for what she’s about to ask, which has a flare of worry fire through Izuku. He hangs his elbow off the backrest. Charlie’s dark blue eyes never leave the front of the church. Her black-painted nails dig so hard into her palms that he’s sure she’ll leave behind crescent moon grooves.
She blinks twice. Chin angled down as she looks at her fingers. Brushing them against each other in a soft manner.
“The other NDA you signed with X-studios,” She turns her head to lock eyes, “were they related to my brother’s injury?”
Izuku freezes.
Charlie knows there’s an NDA—not only is she investigating, someone broke the secrecy clause.
His blood runs cold.
He sets his jaw, arm off the backrest.
He rises to stand.
“No,” His eyes cast her a steady look, “The NDAs we signed? They had nothing to do with your brother.”
