Chapter Text
Prologue
May 28th
Breathe.
Just breathe.
Midoriya couldn't breathe.
There was a song playing – he knew that, he could see on the screen that someone was skating. Some of the other competitors were bobbing their heads along as they watched, toes tapping. But Midoriya couldn't hear it. Couldn't hear anything besides the rushing of blood in his ears. Couldn't hear anything besides the echo of what his coach had said to him, standing outside the back door of the rink. He felt like he was going to hurl.
“Nervous?” The guy next to him said. Midoriya turned his head vaguely in the guy's direction, noting his eyes widen slightly. Midoriya didn't really want to have a conversation, but he was too polite to ignore him. “Oh, you're – oh! Midoriya, right?”
Midoriya managed a weak smile and nod. How am I supposed to go out there and skate? He thought distractedly. Now, knowing it will never be the same?
“I watched you compete last year,” The guy said. He sounded excited. Midoriya wondered if it would be considered rude if he threw up in the guy's lap. “You were amazing. It's an honor to be sharing the ice with you. I hope I can give you a run for your money this year.”
Giving him another attempt at a smile, trying to be polite even as it felt like his world was crumbling around his ears, Midoriya croaked out, “Thank you, good luck out there.”
The guy said something else, but one of the girls wearing a headset said Midoriya's name at the front of the room. He was up next. “One second,” He rasped, ducking into the bathroom. He stared at the person in the mirror – someone he wasn't sure he recognized. His face was pale, he was shaking. Just go out there and do your routine, he told himself. Worry about this later. Just get through the next ten minutes, and you can go home and get yourself together.
He took a shaky breath, trying to get his breathing under control and running a hand through his hair. He didn't know if he believed the words he was telling himself, but he thought them anyway, hoping maybe he could will them to be true if he just tried hard enough. They don't need to know about what you're worried about. You can ignore it. Just do it. You'll be fine.
The knocking at the door made him flinch. The girl's voice seemed sympathetic, and it cut into Midoriya like a knife. “Midoriya? You need to head out now.”
He obliged, not feeling any more calm than he had. Everything was different. He felt as though he had lost everything. Would this be his last time competing? Would he go home and never skate again? It didn't matter what happened out on the ice. He could win and it wouldn't matter. He could feel his eyes filling up with tears as he followed the girl through the hallways. There were people around – some of them wishing him luck. He still felt nauseous.
The girl paused by the entrance to the ice, and Midoriya mechanically took off his skate guards. They had asked him if he wanted to back out. But he couldn't. He couldn't. If this was his last time skating, he had to go out there. For himself. For his...
He looked around for his coach, but he wasn't there. Shaking with too many emotions to even try to comprehend, Midoriya stepped out onto the ice.
He glided across the ice, feeling tense. Everything was wrong. He couldn't look to the side of the rink and see his coach standing there. He felt like he was overreacting – but he could do nothing about the way his body was physically reacting to this. He couldn't get ahold of his head. He couldn't think about anything except those words spoken out back behind the rink, accompanied by quiet sobs. This was not how this was supposed to go. Midoriya had stood here before – in the years past – and felt nothing but excitement and slight nerves. This was not how he was supposed to feel.
Still, he did not back down. That wasn't who he was. Shaking, he took his position. He felt like he might cry.
“Midoriya Izuku!” The announcer boomed, and Midoriya cringed – it felt too loud to his ears. Just do this. Just make it through this.
The music started, and that was when everything cut to black, like the ending of a bad movie.
xxx
Chapter one
January 25th
There was no one out on the ice.
Midoriya sat, his left hand cradling his right one, staring out over the empty rink. His skates sat next to him, untouched. They had been thoroughly cleaned, but they didn't look the same to him anymore. He had taken off his boots – with intent to put his skates on – but he hadn't touched them. He wanted to. Still, he wasn't sure he could. He had been sitting in the same spot for close to two hours.
Maybe he'd just sit here until morning.
Shit.
He blew out a heavy breath, blowing his bangs out of his face. He hadn't even brought his headband. That was a sure sign he couldn't go out there, right? He hadn't even brought everything he needed.
“Taking a break?”
The voice echoed against the high ceiling, ringing through the empty building. Midoriya turned to look over his shoulder, spotting the blond man standing at the doorway. He raised a hand in greeting and gave Midoriya a half-hearted smile, and Midoriya fought the sob that threatened to escape. He couldn't handle this. Why did I come here? He wailed inwardly.
“Been a long time since I've seen you here,” Toshinori commented, his hands in his pockets. He came over to sit across the aisle from Midoriya, eyes soft and sympathetic.
“Hi, sensei,” Midoriya managed, his voice breaking. He felt pathetic. He hoped Toshinori didn't know how long he had been sitting here.
“You don't have to call me sensei anymore,” Toshinori said quietly. He looked sad, but he tried to put a smile on for the younger boy.
Midoriya swallowed the lump in his throat. “You'll always be my coach,” He responded, tracing the edge of the bench with his toes. He missed the scrape of his skates, the sound of home. He wasn't sure when (or if) he'd be able to hear that sound again.
Toshinori just smiled in response. It was quiet for a moment as Toshinori looked out over the ice. Midoriya leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees, glad there wasn't anybody out on the ice. It was getting late, everyone had gone home already. He felt this moment might be cheapened by little kids yelling in the background. Just the hum of the AC, him and his coach. He had so many things that he wanted to say to Toshinori, all balled up in a thick lump in his throat. He needed to get it out. Any of it. “Sensei? Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, my boy.”
Midoriya hesitated, dropping his face and looking down at his scarred hand. He usually wore a cover on it, tucked into a black glove. The sleeve sat next to him, the glove folded into it. It felt right, somehow, to have his right arm exposed to this place. “Do you remember the last time you were out on the ice?”
Toshinori huffed out a breath, leaning over to rest his elbows on his knees, mirroring Midoriya. “Of course I do. When they told me I wasn't going to be able to skate anymore I spent a whole day out on the ice. Just skating. I did all my favorite tricks, and just... enjoyed it one last time.”
Midoriya nodded. He had wanted to do that today. But he hadn't been able to even get his skates on. He hadn't been able to handle it. Will I not be able to remember my last time out on the ice?
“Hey,” Toshinori said, like some kind of mind reader. “You're going to get back out there. You're going to skate again.”
Midoriya sighed, wishing he could believe his old mentor. I might not, he thought to himself, but he managed a weak smile and a mumbled, “Of course.”
“Look,” His coach said, turning on the bench to face Midoriya and pulling out his phone. “I was looking up your new place. There's a rink less than a mile out. If you stop skating, Midoriya Izuku, I will take that as a personal failure. I watched you take your break, and here you are, back in the rink. You're not on the ice yet, but you're here. It's a step. I know you can do this. I know you're strong enough for this. What happened to that kid who told me he wanted to be the best? What happened to that kid that spent a week straight training without stop so he could perfect his axel? The kid who learned to do quads like nobody's business?”
He can't even do his axel anymore, Midoriya thought bitterly. He doesn't even have the guts to be out on the ice now. Not since... But he didn't say any of it out loud. It didn't appear to matter, his coach knew what he was thinking.
Toshinori's voice was soft, and it echoed quietly in the wide room. “It's going to be okay, kid. Don't stop skating. It was one thing. One mistake. This will pass.”
Midoriya just nodded. He couldn't promise anything, but he didn't want to let his coach down. He could try.
xxx
January 27th
“It's our turn.”
Kirishima raised his eyebrows, glancing back at Ashido and Sero. “Excuse me?” He asked.
The blond narrowed his eyes, hockey stick held almost threateningly in one of his hands. He had squared his shoulders, and glared at Kirishima like his life depended on it. There was another blond behind the first one, this one looking a bit pained and apologetic – and a little bit like he wanted the ice to break and drop him through into the freezing water below. “It's our turn on the ice. Time for you guys to fuck off.”
Is this guy for real? “Um, there's enough ice for all of us.” Kirishima said. “Besides, you can't just kick us off the ice-”
“I believe that I can, and that's exactly what I'm doing. Now fuck off before you regret it,” The guy said, skating past Kirishima and towards the goal. “We want the goals. You can skate over there, or whatever.”
Kirishima shared a glance with Sero, who looked bewildered. You're on your own. Kirishima felt anger rising up in his chest. This was dumb. “Those are my goals. I made them. You can't just bust out here onto a public lake and tell us we have to leave, and take my goals.”
“You gonna stop me, Shitty Hair?”
Kirishima struggled to contain the flood of rage that filled his chest. What was this guy's problem? Kirishima had never seen him before – even though the redhead had grown up here, skating and playing hockey with his friends, and he had the balls to just skate out here and start making demands like he owned the whole place? And then, proceed to call him Shitty Hair?
“Listen, you entitled fucking prick-”
“Who are you calling an entitled prick?” The guy demanded, red eyes flashing. Kirishima wouldn't have been surprised if the guy actually exploded.
“You, obviously, since you're being one.”
The blond skated closer, eyes harsh. “Say that again, I fucking dare you.”
Kirishima squared his shoulders, which was obviously not the desired effect. The blond glared harder. If looks could kill, Kirishima would have been a dead man. “Okay, I will, you entitled, bullshit-”
“Kirishima,” Sero said, skating up to him. “Look, it's not worth it, let's just go. It's getting dark anyways.”
“No, I'm not going to let this asshole-”
“Fuck off,” The blond said, this time to Sero. “Let him fight his own fucking battles, unless you think that he's too much of a wimp.”
Kirishima shot a dagger-sharp glare at the blond, but he managed to take a deep breath. He could be the bigger man here. He could rise above this asshole. He turned back, managing a forced smile. “Whatever, man. Enjoy your fucking time. Ashido, Sero, let's go get a milkshake.”
The blond just curled his lip, and skated off towards the goal again, calling out to the boy who he had been with. “Come on, idiot. We only have a bit of light left.”
The other boy, the one that had been with Asshole, nervously skated past them. Kirishima just barely heard him say, “Sorry about my stupid friend,” But then he was immediately skating towards Asshole, too far away to respond to. Instead of staying and throwing the first punch, like he wanted to, Kirishima gritted his teeth and skated away. This wasn't a game. There was no ref to break them up. A fight out here meant possible cops and Kirishima couldn't afford that.
Kirishima angrily dumped his bag into one of the booths at Yuuei's Diner, heavily slumping down after it. Sero and Ashido sat down opposite him, their bags shoved under the table. “I'm so coooooold,” Ashido grumbled, dropping her whole body onto the table. “Honestly, thank god that asshole kicked us off the ice. I probably would have frozen over if we were out there any longer.”
“Fucking prick,” Kirishima mumbled to himself. “I don't want to talk about him anymore. We'll never see him again. Let's just get our shakes and have a nice damn time.”
xxx
January 28th
Midoriya's breath billowed into the air, and he pulled his jacket tighter around himself with his free hand. The other carried all eight of his grocery bags, overflowing with the purchases he had made to turn the apartment into some semblance of a home. His fingers were frozen, aching with the weight that they held. This was certainly a winter town, no doubt about that. He was glad for his beanie as he trudged up towards the tiny apartment with his second load of bags.
The dollar store was certainly a good place for little things. Soap dispensers, shitty washcloths, cleaner and dishsoap. Also frozen vegetables, and bags of rice. And candles. He really liked candles.
The apartment was freezing, and Midoriya dumped his bags with the others and went to the heater first, fiddling with it so it'd warm to the right temperature, rather than just cranking it, like he wanted to.
“Kacchan,” He called down the hall. “Why didn't you turn the heater on?”
“Didn't wanna get up,” Kacchan's rough voice called through his mostly closed door. “I'm trying to fucking sleep, leave me alone.”
Midoriya checked the time on his phone, rolling his eyes. It was only eight. Kacchan was probably tired from loading things into the apartment, but it was still early for him to go to bed. Still, Midoriya grabbed his headphones to listen to music, rather than play it over the speakers and annoy his roommate.
He found a nice, calming playlist as he glided through the house, wishing he could make every floor into ice. His skates sat, in their bag, abandoned in the front closet. As he worked, cleaning and putting things where he wanted them to live, he allowed himself to think of the impracticalities of changing out all the carpets with ice. That would certainly force him to skate again. Kacchan probably wouldn't mind. But firstly – the apartment would be freezing at all times. Izuku was used to the cold, but that might be a little overboard. Secondly, then he would have to put his skates on to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, or slip and slide his way there in socks.
Both of those things he could work with. But it was the monetary cost and the fact that they were on the second floor and it may cause a leakage problem in the apartment below them that shut the idea down completely. He had seen the girl that lived there, watering some of the plants on the front porch. She had waved at him. He didn't want to flood her apartment.
I wonder if she'd be a good friend, he thought idly, stacking extra shampoos in the hall closet. I could bake something and take it down to her. I need new friends here. Friends that don't have anything to do with skating. Friends that aren't Kacchan.
He had very purposely not looked into where the rink in this town was. He had driven past a frozen lake on his way in, seeing couple people out, playing a pick-up game of hockey. Of course they had a rink here. The university in town was well-known for their hockey team. But Midoriya refrained from looking it up.
He had come to terms with the fact that he might never skate again. He had come to terms with that a while ago – probably while lying in the hospital. Didn't mean it didn't suck though. And it sucked especially now, here, in this foreign place, where the lakes were frozen over and the air felt like the kind he was used to gasping for, legs aching, nothing but the sound of his skates scraping.
He washed new dishes and put them away in the cabinets. He cranked the music in his headphones, wanting to hear anything but an announcer's voice in his ears, booming his name. A crowd screaming. A song he'd never be able to listen to anymore starting up. And horrible, deafening silence and darkness following.
He shook his head hard, turning the music up. Moving was going to be hard, he had known that. It was easier since he had Kacchan here, but they had their own problems. And he still had to deal with these moments alone.
When there was nothing else to put away, Midoriya took a long shower, and then spent two hours in the kitchen, making more cookies than necessary. He wanted to curl up on the couch and not move. Kacchan was definitely already asleep, every time Midoriya passed by his door he was snoring lightly. After a couple times he had carefully closed the door, in order not to wake him up by accident. He didn't want to be alone, but he figured waking Kacchan up would result in more pain. So the next best step was to wallow in misery. That was a good thing to do on the first night in your new apartment, right?
But no. That wasn't who Midoriya was. Midoriya could do this. Just a first step.
He packed the cookies up on a paper plate with plastic wrap, and headed to the door. He would say hi to the girl downstairs. He would start to make friends here. He wasn't sure if that was because he couldn't handle doing things alone, or what. He liked to just think he was a friendly person.
He opened his door and yelped, nearly dropping the whole plate of cookies.
“Oh!” The girl said, leaping back as well, holding her hands up in surrender. “I'm sorry! I was just about to knock! I swear I wasn't creeping outside your door.”
“I-it's okay!” He managed, his voice still high. It was the girl from downstairs, wearing a puffy pink jacket and a sheepish look on her face. She had brown hair, longer in the front than in the back, which was weird, but somehow it fit her face. “Uh, can I help you with something? Was I being too loud?”
“No!” She said, scratching the back of her neck nervously. “No, I just wanted to come up and introduce myself. I know it can be scary moving in somewhere new, and I wanted to let you know that if you need anything you can come down and ask. Or just bang really hard on the floor, I'm sure we'll hear it.”
Definitely can't flood her apartment, he thought to himself. “Thank you!” He said out loud. “I was actually just on my way down to introduce myself, I...” He trailed off as he noticed she was looking past him. She raised her face, sniffing deeply.
“That smells so good. Please tell me you bake. My roommates don't appreciate the finer points of baking.”
“Uh, yeah!” He extended the cookies to arms length, feeling his face go red. “I made you some cookies!”
Her eyes widened, and she carefully took the plate. “For me?”
“Y-yeah, I wanted to come down and give them to you and say hi, to introduce myself-”
“Thank you!” She squealed. She frankly seemed too excited to be receiving cookies, but Midoriya wasn't really one to judge. “I'm so excited to eat them. I'm Uraraka Ochako, by the way.”
He managed a smile, extending a hand. She hadn't said anything that made him think she recognized him. He knew it was a niche audience who would recognize him. But still. Especially in a town like this, people probably would. “Midoriya Izuku.”
“I like that, that's cute. There's another guy here too, right?”
“Yeah! That's Kacchan. Oh, uh- Bakugou Katsuki. He can seem pretty mean sometimes, sorry about him.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you two...”
“Oh!” Midoriya gasped. “No! No, Kacchan and I are just friends. We moved here cause he got into the university, and my job wanted me to transfer, and... it was just easier to move in together...” It was bending the truth a little, but he didn't feel like he could spill that he had needed to get out of his hometown to try to escape depression to this perfect stranger.
“Oh!” She laughed, shuffling the cookies to one hand and pulling her phone out of her pocket and starting to click through it as she talked. “Sorry, I didn't mean to assume. I live downstairs with three of my friends and we all constantly get mistaken for dating. We get pretty loud on game nights, so just let me know if we're annoying you!”
“Okay,” He managed. “I will.”
“Here,” She said, handing him her phone. “Can I have your number? I can text you and then you can have my number too, just in case you need anything or want to know something about the town, we've been here for a while.”
This is so much easier than I expected it to be, Midoriya thought to himself, entering his number into her phone and handing it back. “Thanks, I really appreciate your kindness.”
“And I really appreciate the cookies! I'm sure everybody will really love them. Well, it's freezing, and I don't want to make you let any more cold air into your apartment, I'm going to head back downstairs. Let me know if you need anything!”
And with a little wave, she was back down the stairs and gone. Midoriya closed his door.
xxx
February 6th
Asshole was back on the lake.
Kirishima gritted his teeth. He had come out late the night before and taken down his goals, bringing them in under the guise that he didn't want them to get “hurt by the weather.” But he had built them – they were just fine, they could handle the weather. In reality it was because he was being petty, and he didn't want Asshole to use them.
The blond was doing warm ups, skating suicides on the ice. Kirishima stood there for a moment, watching the guy with narrowed eyes. He had set out his hockey stick and a bag in lieu of the lines that a rink would have. He was certainly fast. Kirishima wrinkled his nose. This dick thought just because he could skate fast and he was built well, he could come out here like he owned the lake?
Kirishima turned around and left. He didn't want to stay and be around someone who just made him angry. He texted Ashido and Sero, and went to the indoor rink instead.
xxx
February 6th
It wasn't knocking, it was banging.
It was like someone was kicking his front door. Midoriya turned down his music a bit and headed to the front door. For a moment, he was afraid it was the neighbors, that they were going to tell him that his music was too loud. But the banging was so consistent and loud that he had figured out who it was before he got to the door.
“Kacchan,” He said, opening the door. The blond glared at him, and then pushed his way inside. Midoriya closed the door behind him.
“Forgot my key,” Kacchan said bluntly as he headed towards the kitchen, kicking his shoes off by the door and dropping his bag and his hockey stick there. He opened the fridge, narrowed eyes scanning the contents. Midoriya knew better than to scold him for forgetting his key. He was probably more upset about it than Midoriya was. He was just good at hiding that kind of thing.
“Nice to see you too, Kacchan,” Midoriya sighed. “At least put your bag and stick in the closet.” He went back to his laptop, which was open at the table. Kacchan grabbed a soda and cracked it open, slumping down onto the couch.
“I will.” Kacchan grumbled. “Why don't we have any beer.” Midoriya fought the urge to sigh again. He wasn't in the mood to deal with Kacchan today. They had been here for a week and a half, and Kacchan just got more irritable as school approached. Midoriya hadn't even opened the closet with his skating bag in it. I'm stronger than that. I can do this without skating. Besides, if I skate, I probably won't be any good anyways. It'll be more frustrating than calming.
“Kacchan,” Midoriya said calmly, eyes focused on the glow of his computer, “Neither of us is old enough to buy beer.”
“Couple of months,” Kacchan snorted, and Midoriya just ignored him. Kacchan would be twenty one pretty soon, and he tried to ignore how uneasy that made him feel. Though he had to admit, Kacchan probably wouldn't do anything really stupid. He followed the rules. He went to bed at nine. He did his homework. He checked in on Midoriya to make sure he was eating.
Kacchan stretched his neck, looking over the back of the couch to glare at Midoriya. “Have you been to the rink yet?”
Midoriya didn't answer. He couldn't lie to Kacchan without him knowing. It didn't matter, Kacchan knew that he hadn't been. It didn't matter what he said. He gritted his teeth. “I'm trying to get some work done.”
“Shut up, we both know that's not how your job works. Why the fuck haven't you gone to the rink? What, do you just sit around here like a useless nerd while I'm gone?”
Midoriya stared at his laptop. He wanted to cry. He wanted to spill it all, to sob about how it wasn't the same here, without his coach or any of the familiar people, without his familiar bench, without any shred of his skill left. He was done skating. He could move on, couldn't he?
But he didn't say any of that. He might say that to Kacchan at another time, but not right now. Kacchan was just as upset as he was to have moved here. He would just be mean right now. Midoriya couldn't handle it, not right now. He wouldn't respond well to any of that.
“I just need a break,” He said, staring through his laptop screen. He wasn't going to get any work done, not now.
“You've been taking a break. For months. It's time.”
“Later. I just need a break right now.”
“You're a shitty liar.”
“What do you want me to say!” Midoriya snapped, shutting his laptop angrily. He could remember a time when he never would have yelled at Kacchan, but it had been two years since high school. Midoriya had grown a lot in high school, and he had grown out of that. “Stop pretending like you care and just leave me alone.”
Kacchan glared at him, standing up. His fingers dented the soda can slightly, and Midoriya could see the barely contained rage behind his eyes. He really had grown. He wasn't perfect, hell, he was still an asshole, but he was better than he had been in high school. Midoriya could remember a time he would have been flying at him the moment those words were out of his mouth. “Don't be a fucking prick, Deku.” He drank the rest of the soda and put the empty can on the counter. “School starts day after tomorrow, so I'm gonna be busy until then, but I'm making dinner on Friday. Go to the goddamn rink before then. Or even that shitty lake on the edge of town. You obviously need it. I'm not sitting down to eat with your annoying ass if you haven't been skating.”
And with that, he turned and stalked into his room, slamming the door behind him, loud enough to make Midoriya wince. Midoriya dropped his head into his arms, and finally let the tears escape.
xxx
February 7th
Kirishima really liked going out on the lake before the sun came up.
He would go out a half hour before the sun came up in the cold February air, stretch, lace up his skates and warm up. Then he'd skate laps, then suicides, and then laps again. The sun usually came up while he was finishing up his last few laps, and he would take a minute to skate lazily, watching the colors bleed across the sky and paint the undersides of the clouds.
Then once the sun was really up, he'd grab his stick and start practicing, shooting goals and skating back and forth, doing drills and keeping himself in shape. Usually, Ashido and Sero joined him after an hour or so.
He wasn't a top player at the university for nothing.
But while this time was technically for practicing, while it helped him be a better player, be more comfortable on the ice, (as though he hadn't been skating since he was old enough to put on skates) it was also a sort of therapy. Just him and the ice and the rising sun. Just the brisk air and the sounds of birds waking up in the trees. Just the scrape of his skates and the sound of his breathing, warm puffs of air billowing out behind him. It was his favorite time of day.
And here was Asshole, absolutely ruining it.
Kirishima had just finished his suicides and started his laps, turning his face to the east to see the sunrise, and had immediately locked eyes with a pair of red ones.
Blondie scowled at him, but didn't say anything. Instead, he just sat and laced up his own skates, ditching his bag at the edge of the ice and starting to warm up.
Kirishima – suddenly not feeling so serene – chewed on the inside of his cheek and struggled not to say anything. He wasn't going to start anything. He was the bigger man. He was the bigger man. He was the bigger man.
Asshole didn't say anything either, thank god, but he studiously skated circles across exactly half of the lake, creating an intangible line that Kirishima was sure he could see. He didn't make eye contact again, and he didn't acknowledge Kirishima at all. Kirishima tried not to let that bother him either. He had to admit, just anything the guy did would be wrong. He could ignore him and it would be rude, or he could yell and it would be a dick move, or he could try to be nice and Kirishima would be sure that he was being an asshole.
Kirishima texted the groupchat and told his friends they should come early. (He didn't mention it was because he didn't want to be alone on the ice with Asshole.) Then he started doing his drills, spins and dodges down the ice, focusing on the edge of the lake and nothing else. He felt like he could feel the guy's eyes on him, but he didn't look. That wasn't a real thing. He was probably just making it up.
Mina showed up first, yawning and lacing up her skates. She grumbled as she skated up to him. “I was having such a good dream.”
“Shouldn't have had your sound on, then,” Kirishima said, rolling his eyes and tossing her his stick. She tossed it back, and they skated back and forth down the ice, tossing it back and forth.
“Your morning text is basically my alarm. Just dunno why it had to be so eeeeeaaarrly today.”
Kirishima didn't respond, just continued tossing the stick. They didn't have a medicine ball, not since Sero had lost theirs, so they made do with the stick for now. Kirishima kept meaning to go out and buy a new ball, but he kept forgetting.
He caught Blondie's eye on the way back, who was watching them with an annoyed and frustrated expression. “What,” Asshole said, voice loud enough to echo across the ice to them. “Don't give me some annoyed look like you guys aren't being idiots. What kind of dumbass warmup is that?”
Kirishima gritted his teeth, deciding to ignore him. “Kirishima!” Ashido said sharply, and Kirishima looked back just in time to get nailed in the face by the stick. He skated to a stop, touching at his lip. The inside of his mouth tasted like blood. “I'm so sorry,” Mina said. “I thought you were looking.”
“It's fine,” Kirishima responded, trying not to look at Blondie, sure he would be laughing. He would not let this asshole get to him. He picked up the stick, spitting off to the side and ignoring that there was blood in it. “Come on. Let's get going.”
Mina tried to apologize more, but Kirishima pushed hard, starting a game of one-on-one without letting her get fully ready. He just had to think about anything besides how Blondie was still watching them, or he'd start screaming. Where had this guy come from? Why couldn't he just leave them alone?
“Hey,” Sero said as he laced up his skates to join them. “Are you guys ready for next semester to start tomorrow?”
“No,” Ashido whined. “I hate spring semester. Hockey season sucks since I can't play with you guys.”
“It can't be worse than fall semester,” Kirishima said. “Then, we don't even have the lake to play on the weekends until super late in the year.”
“I don't even want to talk about fall semester.”
Kirishima chuckled, bumping his shoulder into hers. He passed the puck down to Sero, trying his best not to look at Asshole, who was skating his own drills on the other side of the lake. Every nice bone in Kirishima's body was begging him to invite him over, give him a second chance. We could play two-on-two. But he couldn't. Even looking in the guy's direction made anger build up in his chest. He would not make the first move, not until the guy apologized. “Hey, we'll still have weekends. And besides, you have the girls' team.”
“The girls' team is made up of pussies,” Ashido grumbled, stealing the puck from Sero and spinning past him. “Besides, none of them can handle good trash talk.”
“You're one to talk, Miss Cries-when-she-misses-a-goal.”
“Hey!” She yelped, checking Sero hard with her shoulder, sending him sprawling back against the ice and taking the puck from him again. “That was one time, you big barf bag.”
“Ooh, big barf bag,” Kirishima said, retrieving the puck from the goal, where Ashido had made it, and skating over to Sero to help him up. “That's a good one. Alliteration.”
Ashido curtsied daintily, though the effect was kind of ruined by the shit-eating grin on her face. “Thank you. It just came to me. I give you permission to use it, if you'd like.”
“You always come up with really good alliterations,” Sero commented, rubbing his back and taking the puck from Kirishima to reset and start again. “I liked lizard licker.”
“I'm particularly fond of fat fart face,” Kirishima added. Ashido laughed, bright and loud.
“You guys are forgetting baby bitch boy.”
“Not as interesting,” Sero frowned, passing the puck back and forth between the two of them. Kirishima shot between them, trying to intercept it, and doing so amazingly, with a spin and a grin at the black haired boy.
“Yeah, it's not as creative,” Kirishima grunted, skidding past Ashido as she tried to check him, and shooting it down the ice into the goal.
Kirishima grinned as Ashido complained and Sero argued with her. This was his favorite time of day. He could almost forget that there was someone else there, someone who was not as invited. Almost.
xxx
February 8th
Midoriya pulled his bag up higher on his shoulder, eyes on the building before him and a sick feeling in his stomach. He wished that Kacchan didn't have some kind of ridiculously accurate 'Midoriya-is-lying' radar and he could just go home and tell the boy that he went. But he had to admit that Kacchan was right. He did need to skate. This would be good for him. It would.
So he took a deep, calming breath and headed through the lot towards the building. It was old, a large cement dome-topped kind of place, a sign on the front that was probably supposed to light up that just read Ice Palace. However it looked kind of run down, as though it wouldn't light up anymore, the cement weathered down, chipping in places.
The door was heavy, and Midoriya had to pull his bag tighter to himself to get through it. God, he thought uncomfortably as the door hit him in the back and shoved him inside, I hope there's nobody here.
He appeared to be lucky so far; there was no one in the front lobby except for the guy at the half counter. The counter rounded around and disappeared into the main room, which Midoriya couldn't see from this angle. Midoriya hesitantly approached the counter, wincing as he realized the guy had watched him struggle to get through the door. A great first impression. He swallowed hard, producing his wallet and hoping his voice wouldn't break. How pathetic would it be if he started crying and had to run out of the building when he was just asking about day prices?
The guy raised an eyebrow at him, and Midoriya tried for a smile. “Hi,” He said quietly. “Good afternoon.”
The guy – who had red hair on one side and white on the other – flicked his eyes to Midoriya's bag and then back up to his face. “Afternoon. One day or the season?”
“One day please.”
The guy's eyebrows raised, disappearing into his hair. Midoriya noticed that he had two different colored eyes, and an uneven scar surrounding the left one. The guy didn't comment on the fact that Midoriya was obviously over-prepared to be someone who was just buying one day, and said, “If you say so.”
The guy rang him up, swiping his card and handing it back. “We're not very busy. I assume you don't need skates. You can put your things in a locker or on a bench by the ice. Nobody steals anything here, mostly they all know each other.”
Great, Midoriya thought. I'll be the stranger. “Thank you,” He mumbled. He had an odd feeling that he may have seen this guy before, but he didn't dwell on it. If he had seen him at a competition, he really didn't want to bring any attention to the fact that they might know each other. He wanted to get out of this without being recognized. Or looked at at all, really.
And so without another word, he grabbed the bracelet the guy offered and hurried off, through the swinging doors and into the main room.
The cold hit him first, and he breathed it in, closing his eyes for a moment and wishing that the smell of the ice wasn't so calming for him. Why couldn't he find this anywhere else? It had been so long since he skated – really skated – that he could barely stand it. He fell right back into it, hands barely shaking as ran through his warm ups. There were a couple people out on the ice, one pair of old women, a mom and her son, and a young couple, slipping and sliding and giggling as they tried to stay up. Midoriya took a moment to watch as he stretched and warmed up, just enjoying those enjoying themselves on the ice. He wished it was that easy for him still. He also wished none of them were there.
He stretched for too long, just trying to work up the nerve to get out onto the ice. The young couple stumbled off the ice and started changing back into their own shoes, and then the two old ladies did as well. Midoriya took a deep breath and laced up his skates, watching them laugh and waddle their way to the benches.
As he turned his head to watch, he caught the eye of the guy who had been at the counter, who had come around to this side, leaning back against a wall that had snacks and stuff on it. He was watching Midoriya, not obviously, but enough that Midoriya noticed. He didn't have any kind of expression that would make Midoriya nervous or uncomfortable, he was just sort of looking.
Probably because I'm new, Midoriya thought, unsteadily pushing himself to his feet and heading out onto the ice. He put his headphones in and turned on music, his skating playlist. A collection he had made of songs that weren't particularly distracting to him, that held the right kind of mood for when he was skating, something to block everything else out. There was only the woman and the child now, both of whom weren't bad out on the ice. Midoriya didn't want to feel like he was showing off, but the minute his feet hit the ice, he sort of... faded out.
This was just right.
He skated slow at first, hands in his pockets, foot by foot across the ice. He lapped the two of them several times, but he couldn't even really focus on how many times. Pretty soon he was lost in skating, whipping around corners, skating backwards and tucking himself into spins. He still couldn't jump, couldn't even bring himself to try, but he found himself warm, breathing slowly and evenly as he glided on the ice. He did notice the eyes of the woman and the little boy on him, and he offered them a smile. The little boy grinned back.
The two of them disappeared after a while, and Midoriya allowed himself to take off his sweater and his earbuds and continue skating, enjoying the empty ice. He used to be able to have the ice to himself all the time back home, but it had been a long time since then. It had been a long time since he had been on the ice at all. Somehow, being here, in this building, was better than before. He missed his old rink, he missed his coach, he missed his friends, but it was easier to separate this from the bad feelings back there. Even still, he found himself tugging at the athletic sleeve that he had tight on his right arm, pulling at the lip of the glove. It was a bit strange, threw him off balance just slightly, to have one arm covered and one arm open, but it was okay. He could get used to this.
Then he tried to jump.
He took a deep breath, running through the steps in his mind. He knew how to jump. He knew. He was good at this. He had been good at this. He had been the best at this. He just had to follow through.
Just one turn. Not even an axel. A simple toe-loop. Not hard at all. Deep breath, pick the ice with your opposite toe, into the air, arms in, weight on your landing leg –
He spilled onto the ice.
He breathed out hard, closing his eyes for a moment as he slid on his back across the ice. He still couldn't do it. Couldn't even do the simplest jump. Something he used to be able to do in his sleep.
He pushed himself up, tucking a strand of hair that had escaped his headband back behind his ear. He would either have to keep trying, or give up on jumping. Before today, he had been so ready to just give up, to never skate again, to just move on with his life. Try to move on. Try to find a new purpose.
Who was I trying to fool? Midoriya thought, running his hand over the ice below him. He pushed himself to his feet. I'll never be able to let go of this.
Not the sound of the skates, the feel of the air on his face, the distinct smell of the ice. Not the way he leaned into turns, the feel of spinning faster than he should be able to. The way his cheeks and nose grew chilled, the wind in his hair. He gritted his teeth, and prepped for another jump. Just a toe-loop. He could do that. He could do this.
He spilled onto the ice again.
“I'm done,” He said out loud, his voice echoing through the empty rink. “No more of that.”
Not today, he added on in his mind. Maybe later he'd be able to try again, to start his jumps again. But for now, he just needed to enjoy the ice, to skate and just exist on the ice. Baby steps. So he got back up and began to skate again, just breathing and feeling.
He knew he'd be back. It didn't matter that he couldn't do his jumps right now. It didn't matter that he felt like he was never going to get back to where he was. It didn't matter that there was this empty space next to him, or on the side of the rink, where his coach should be, or the ghost of an ache in his arm, despite all of the months it had to heal. Even with all of that, he felt right on the ice. He was never going to get that anywhere else. So he'd be back.
His phone chimed in his pocket, and he pulled it out to check it. Ah, Kacchan texted me about - Wait, what?!
It was nearly seven, and Kacchan had texted him asking why the apartment was freezing, and where he was. But Kacchan being annoyed wasn't new – wasn't particularly stressful. What was stressful, however, was the fact that Midoriya had been under the impression that the skating rink closed at six.
Had he really been here for four hours?
Panicked, he speed skated off the ice and started frantically changing his shoes. He couldn't see the attendant guy anywhere. He hadn't just closed up and left Midoriya in the building, had he? Had he been trying to get Midoriya's attention while he was stuck in his own little skating world? Had it seemed like Midoriya was ignoring him on purpose?
He shouldered his bag, grabbed his skates and hurried through the doors, hesitating as he made eye contact with the guy, who was leaning casually on the front counter, a book open in front of him. He had looked up as Midoriya burst through.
“I'm sorry!” Midoriya said, noting the times on the board, that it did, in fact, close at six. “I'm so sorry, I didn't see the time-”
“It's fine,” The guy interrupted him. He didn't look upset, or even annoyed. He just looked blank. “I didn't have anywhere to be. Looked like you needed it.”
Midoriya blushed, clutching the strap of his bag. “I – I didn't – thank you. I-I guess I did.”
The guy nodded, not smiling, just watching Midoriya with calculated eyes. “You're pretty good. But... has it been a while since you've been out on the ice?”
Midoriya wasn't sure if he could blush any more. “Uh, yeah. You could say that.”
The guy just nodded again. It was quiet, awkward, for a moment, as Midoriya tried to figure out how to thank the guy and leave without it being horribly awkward. If he was going to be at the rink again, he'd probably see this guy again. He didn't want it to be uncomfortable when he did. But before he could figure out what to say, the guy – somehow looking supremely awkward and also nonchalant at the same time – said, “I might be overstepping, but... uh... are you – you... you good?”
You good? Midoriya wasn't sure how to answer. He wasn't sure what brought the question on, so he wasn't sure entirely which way he should go with this. “Um,” He mumbled eloquently. “I'm a little better... now. After...” He gestured vaguely back towards the ice. This was so awful. He didn't want to be talking right now, not standing in the rink where he just made a fool of himself, falling on toe-loops and staying nearly an hour past closing. He wasn't even sure the guy had been watching, but... still.
“That's good.” The guy murmured, and Midoriya gave up trying – he needed to get out of here.
“Thank-you-for-letting-me-stay-I'm-so-sorry-again-have-a-nice-night-bye!” Midoriya blurted, bowing deeply to the guy, hands clutched on the strap of his bag, and then he bolted out the front door, struggling to get through as he forgot how heavy it was.
That was awful, Midoriya thought, face burning, as he collapsed into his car, burying his face in his hands. I'm such an idiot.
He started his car and drove home, and as the embarrassment wore off, he was left peaceful in a way that he hadn't been in quite some time. He cringed a little at having to face the guy again, but he knew that he'd be back. He wouldn't be able to stay away from the ice. He would be back.