-x-

like reaching out for something and only grabbing air
a nervous flutter in his ribs

-x-

Class 1-A's first trip off campus was - to be kind - an experience.

So it's fair to say that there's more than a little trepidation in the air when Aizawa-sensei mentions they're taking another trip (for purely educational purposes, nothing quite so hands on) and directs them out of the classroom first thing in the morning. He says, through the mask of gradually-thinning bandages, in that same bored tone that's equally ominous, "No gear this time. Hopefully you won't be needing it." There are a few anxious chuckles to lighten the mood, but nobody really moves.

Not until Kacchan throws his chair back and gets to his feet.

The rest of them dredge up their courage, then.

They hurriedly get their stuff together, chatting excitedly to cover up any initial hesitation. Izuku even turns to share a smile with Uraraka as their Class President rushes to the front of the room to direct his fellow classmates.

This time Iida has the forethought to climb aboard the bus and confirm the seating arrangement before he commands everyone to line up according to their class number. There's some sighing and shuffling around, but everyone obliges without too much fuss or whistle-blowing. Izuku doesn't genuinely become aware of who he's going to be sitting besideuntil he's walking down the center aisle and staring at the back of Kacchan's head, the bus swaying beneath the movement of everyone's feet.

Even then, it doesn't hit him full on until Kacchan swings himself down into the next vacant seat and puts himself wordlessly against the window. He slumps deep into the seat, spreading his knees and folding his arms as he turns his face toward the glass.

Izuku jolts to a stop in the aisle, a nervous flutter in his ribs.

Kacchan had seemed a lot less angry with him, like things were slowly getting better - until they both got accepted into U.A. Until their first training exercise. And then it seems like they took five or six big leaps backwards. Izuku told himself he wasn't going to be afraid of Kacchan anymore, that there is no reason to be, but his flight over fight instinct when it comes to Kacchan is a pretty difficult thing to shake, and now...

Behind him, Mineta ribs him with a fist.

"C'mon, you're gonna make him squawk at us," he mutters, just as Iida bellows out from the front of the bus, gesturing firmly with his hand, "You're holding us up, Midoriya!"

"Ah! Sorry…!"

What other option does he have?

Izuku turns and drops down into the seat, sitting rigidly on the edge, knuckles white as he grips the bottom of it.

His heart is beating in his ears for a few long seconds. His close proximity alone is often enough to set Kacchan off when little else will, and Izuku doesn't want to be in close quarters with him if all he's going to do is raise hell about it. Maybe Aizawa-sensei will move him... But no outburst from Kacchan comes, and the bus begins to move. And once Aizawa-sensei tells them to keep it down before disappearing into his sleeping bag, spread out in the front seat, the conversations start revving up around them.

Carefully, Izuku risks a glance at Kacchan.

He expects to get snapped at for this, "Don't fucking look at me, nerd," but that doesn't happen, either.

Kacchan is staring out the window, eyes unfocused, lost in thought. It's the calmest Izuku recalls seeing him in a while. There's no tension in his body at all - Izuku is holding onto enough for the both of them, but inevitably relaxes. He stays perched on the edge of the seat, just in case, before he turns his attention to Yaoyorozu when she says something to him to avoid having to talk to Mineta.

The feeling is pretty surreal, actually.

Izuku remembers taking bus trips in elementary and middle school; sitting at the very back, being picked on, or in the front seat with the teacher to avoid that. He remembers, once, being grabbed by the ankle and pulled down into the floor by a bigger classmate, and not being allowed to come out from under the seat until they got to their destination. He remembers the sticky floor, and crying quietly behind his hands as he stared up at the thin fabric tearing away from the underside of the seat above him.

Kacchan never did anything like that.

Not to say that Kacchan didn't do a lot of terrible things to him...

He was always quick to take the initiative, but as far as his bullying went, he never really did anything unless he was provoked first - if you stood up to him, or disagreed with him. So Izuku eventually learned to not provoke him, to try his best to placate him in moments of anger, and to generally stay out of his way. He became too shy to raise his hand in class; too shy to speak loudly or draw attention to himself; too shy to voice his opinions; too shy to make friends that wouldn't have him, anyway, because he was weak, and quirkless, and strange.

He retreated into his hero notebooks, with only his hope and his quiet determination for company.

But at U.A. something is decidedly flipped.

It's only just now, in this moment, that Izuku really notices it.

He's the one craning out of his seat to talk to his classmates, the one actively engaged and, for the most part, accepted. Kacchan's eyes are focused out the window the whole time and he doesn't really make an effort to speak to anyone, the others carrying on around him. He doesn't command the same respect - the same fear - in this class that he has in others. Izuku is, honestly, a bit mystified. He glances at Kacchan a couple of times, starts to say something to maybe draw him out, but doesn't.

He doesn't want to break whatever this is, doesn't want to ruin it.

Of course, Class 1-A is full of boisterous kids.

If they're confined with each other, they're going to get out of hand. When the rowdiness reaches maximum pitch, students jostling back and forth and raising their voices, passing items between them, music blasting from five separate phones, Aizawa-sensei reigns in the chaos with ease. He sits up to frown at them over the back of the seat, sleeping bag zipped up to his neck. A wayward paper wad smacks him in the face, but he doesn't seem to care even though half his students wince and put their hands in the air and belt out apologies.

"Calm down and stay in your seats," he says tiredly, "Midoriya - out of the aisle."

The students quiet at once, "Yes, sensei!"

Izuku jolts at being called out directly, pitches his voice sharply in answer so Aizawa-sensei will hear it above the rest. He had been craning around the seat in front of him trying to hear what Uraraka was saying to him, trying to see what she has in her hands. Moving fully back into the seat as the rest of his class does the same, his thigh accidentally bumps Kacchan's knee firmly enough to move it.

A tremor of surprise bolts through his chest at the contact.

Izuku stiffens and looks at Kacchan, poised to roll right back out of the seat if he has to escape. But Kacchan barely reacts at all. His eyes narrow a fraction, that faint wrinkle forming under his eye, across the bridge of his nose - as if he starts to snarl, but doesn't quite make it there. If Izuku hadn't subconsciously trained himself to notice such a nuanced shift in expression, he may have missed it altogether. Kacchan doesn't bark at Izuku to get away from him. He doesn't start yelling, or shove Izuku out of the seat.

But he also doesn't move his knee away, relinquishing any space.

Izuku holds his breath for two whole minutes before he slowly lets it out.

"Deku!"

He jumps, lifting his head. The soft call comes from Uraraka, three rows ahead of him. She's peeking over the back of the seat, an origami fortune teller in her hands, lifted above her head. Everyone else has quieted down a bit from Aizawa-sensei's reprimand, and he can hear her clearly when she says impatiently, beaming, "Pick a number already!"

Tentatively, Izuku smiles, putting his hand, two fingers, into the air.

-x-

-BobTAC