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“And then Nanahara-kun raised his hand, and—”
“Thrilling.”
Kacchan’s flat reply came from the driver’s seat as he turned the wheel. Izuku huffed, his story cut short, and looked out the window instead, trying to figure out where they were actually going.
Kacchan had called him at the crack of dawn that morning and, in his usual uncompromising manner, informed him that Izuku already had plans after work today, and under no circumstances was he to “slip away early.” The thing was, Izuku actually did have plans—just not Kacchan’s. Despite it being the middle of the workweek, a few of his friends had somehow managed to clear a couple of hours so they could all get together, or at least he hoped they still could.
The past few months had been brutally busy for all of them, and more often than not Izuku would finish teaching his classes, head straight home, take a shower, throw a load of laundry into the machine, cook if he had the energy—which, admittedly, wasn’t often, something he got scolded for over the phone on a regular basis—eat, and collapse into bed. He’d scroll through the news until he fell asleep, absentmindedly liking posts about his former classmates saving people all over the country while wondering whether everything was ready for tomorrow’s lessons with his own kids.
More than anything, though, he loved talking to Rody. Or rather, more than anything, he loved Rody, and talking to him simply came with that love by default.
Their long-distance relationship, which had already lasted for years, had been wearing them both down little by little. There was no changing the circumstances that kept them apart, so all they could do was endure them and keep looking toward the future with hope. Izuku was willing to wait for as long as it took, and the fear that one day Rody would finally grow tired of all of it had disappeared a long time ago.
“As long as you love me,” Rody had told him during the conversation that had left Izuku so overwhelmed with nerves it felt as though he’d been turned inside out, “you’re never getting rid of me, Izuku.”
And Izuku did love him—fiercely, desperately—and those words had filled him with such strength, with such a sense that everything was under control, that all his fears and all those sleepless nights had simply scattered to the wind. Waiting had always been something Izuku was good at. Even now, as Kacchan drove him to who-knew-where for who-knew-what reason, he didn’t protest. He simply went with the flow.
Or perhaps drifted was the better word.
The strange cushion on the back seat of Kacchan’s car was just that comfortable.
Izuku poked it with one finger and smiled, as though he didn’t do that every single time he got into Kacchan’s car.
“So… are you ever going to tell me why this thing is back here?”
The question seemed to catch Kacchan off guard. He gave the slightest start, his hands tightening around the steering wheel for a split second before relaxing again, and Izuku narrowed his eyes. Kacchan had to have been really lost in thought for him to let something like that slip. The carefully blank expression on his face only made Izuku squint harder, because there was one possibility. Rody had jokingly suggested it once, years ago, and Izuku had been so mortified he’d spent the rest of the conversation trying not to die of embarrassment. Kirishima-kun had laughed and smoothly changed the subject, but Izuku had been far too flustered to get a proper look at Kacchan’s face. And now…
His eyes drifted back to the enormous cushion, suddenly regarding it with considerably less enthusiasm. It really was awfully comfortable to… sink into… while sitting.
“…”
“Don’t you dare make that face.”
“…I didn’t say anything.”
“It’s written all over your face.”
“So is…” Izuku tilted his head ever so slightly. “…something on yours.”
Kacchan looked momentarily taken aback by the sheer audacity of that. The days when Izuku had been afraid to say a word against him were long gone.
“There’s something on your neck,” Izuku chirped brightly.
Kacchan immediately slapped a hand over the spot beneath his collar.
“Quit staring, you damn pervert! There’s nothing there!”
“Nothing there,” Izuku echoed like a parrot, unable to hide his grin. Behind the wheel, Kacchan could only fight back with words. He couldn’t even turn around to make up for it with one of his murderous glares, and Izuku took shameless advantage of that—for all their school years, for the exhausting week he’d had, and for the terrible coffee he’d suffered through that morning.
“I just hope you two have that thing dry-cleaned on a regu—”
“All right, that’s it.”
Kacchan slammed on the brakes, and Izuku lurched forward in his seat. The car rolled to a stop, and before Izuku had even recovered, Kacchan had already climbed out and yanked the rear door open.
“Out,” he ordered. “Move it, asshole.”
For the first time since they’d left, Izuku got a proper look at his face and very nearly burst into laughter.
Still smiling, he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out with both hands raised in surrender. Surely Kacchan hadn’t driven him all the way out here just to dump him in the middle of a field as punishment. Which meant they had arrived.
Which meant—
“Happy birthday,” Kacchan muttered. “Don’t cry.”
He got back into the car, pulled away without another word…
…and left Izuku standing in the middle of nowhere.
The fields stretched endlessly in every direction, wide and beautiful.
And completely empty.
“…Huh?”
Izuku blinked. He looked around unhurriedly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Maybe this was some kind of prank. A birthday surprise, or something like that, and any second now all of his friends would jump from under the earth to wish him a happy birthday…
Just in case that was the plan, Izuku cautiously took a step to the side. Then he decided he might have accidentally wandered into exactly the spot he wasn’t supposed to be standing in, so he took another step, this time to the left, so he wouldn’t get in anyone’s way. After a moment, he cleared his throat, thinking his friends might be waiting for some kind of signal. If Jirou was involved, that ought to be enough.
The birds were singing, and a warm July breeze swept across the fields. It was a beautiful day.
It would’ve been even better if he weren’t standing alone in the middle of a field looking like a complete idiot.
“…This isn’t funny,” he said awkwardly, half-expecting someone to answer him. “Kacchan, this really isn’t funny. How many kilometers is it to the city from here?” He reached into his pocket for his phone and found a new message from Kacchan waiting for him.
Stay where you are.
Izuku looked around once more and let out a sigh, feeling his irritation steadily growing.
His phone chimed again.
The next message was from Rody.
That didn’t surprise him. By this time they were usually already talking, and Rody was probably wondering why Izuku still hadn’t called.
Fully intending to complain about everything that had just happened, Izuku opened their chat.
Then he froze.
Look up, my love
Slowly, Izuku lifted his head.
Against the clear blue sky, the airplane passing overhead was impossible to miss. It was flying surprisingly low—not a passenger plane, but something more like a crop duster, the kind Izuku hadn’t seen in years. There would’ve been nothing unusual about it…
Except that people suddenly started jumping out of it.
For one horrifying instant, everything went black before Izuku’s eyes—until he realized they weren’t falling. Somehow they’d come to a stop, suspended in midair. Lined up shoulder to shoulder across the sky, they were each holding onto something large and white, something that looked like a giant sheet of fabric.
Izuku rubbed his eyes. He could’ve blamed it on exhaustion, but he knew that wasn’t it. One of the people actually managed to wave at him, and, after a moment’s hesitation, he timidly waved back.
It seemed everyone had been waiting for exactly that.
As if by magic, the white fabric stretched out between them.
IZUKU, WILL YOU MARRY ME
The last person wasn’t holding the shared banner. They had a separate piece of fabric of their own, which they hurriedly unfurled a moment later.
IZUKU, WILL YOU MARRY ME !
A strangled sound escaped Izuku as his fingers clenched around his phone until it creaked.
By then the plane had flown far enough away that he found himself thinking he should wait for its pilot to land.
He was wrong about that, too.
The pilot did jump out of the plane—but instead of plummeting to the ground, he floated down as lightly as if gravity itself had decided to spare him, coming to a stop on one knee directly in front of Izuku.
Rody looked beautiful. He was wearing a suit, his hair neatly combed back, and Izuku hadn’t seen him in so long that only now did he fully realize just how desperately he’d missed him. He wanted to sink to his knees beside him, but his body refused to obey him. All he could do was watch with wide eyes as Rody’s slightly trembling hand slipped into his pocket and brought out the most precious gift Izuku had ever been given.
The ring sparkled inside its box, catching the sunlight.
So did Rody, smiling up at him from one knee.
Izuku finally let out a sob. He nodded over and over again, laughing through his tears, before pulling Rody to his feet and wrapping both arms around his neck without even waiting for the ring.
Tears blurred his vision.
He didn’t need his eyes to find Rody’s lips.
“You didn’t exactly leave me much of a choice, did you?” Izuku laughed breathlessly when they finally pulled away from each other a long while later. His head was still spinning.
“There was a slight… punctuation mishap,” Rody admitted, looking just as flustered now. Only then did it become obvious that every bit of composure he’d shown until this moment had been nothing but an act; his heart was pounding every bit as hard as Izuku’s. “But yes,” he added matter-of-factly, slipping an arm around Izuku’s waist and pulling him close again, “you don’t have a choice, Midoriya-san.”
The rest of the group finally caught up with them, and only then did Izuku get a good look at everyone who had helped make up the banner in the sky.
Todoroki-kun. Iida-kun. Aoyama. Sero. Kacchan. Kirishima-kun. Uraraka. Tsuyu-chan. Kaminari-kun—
“You idiot.” Kacchan smacked Kaminari upside the head. “You couldn’t even hold the right sign?”
“We agreed on a different banner! Why the hell did we bring the spare one on board?!” Kaminari shot back in protest, and everyone burst into laughter.
After that came the congratulations, the hugs, and the tears.
So, so many tears.
Izuku hugged Uraraka for a long time. He couldn’t stop saying thank you, and she just laughed, ruffling his hair with a smile.
“It wasn’t my idea,” she said with a wink. “I was just helping. Congratulations, Deku-kun!”
Pino’s eyes were full of tears too, so Izuku gently settled her on top of his head. Rody wrapped him in another embrace and kissed him again—long, tightly, and without the slightest hint of embarrassment.
“I love you,” Izuku murmured against his lips.
“I don’t need the stars,” Rody replied, cupping Izuku’s face in both hands and brushing his freckles with his thumb.
Izuku smiled.
“Time to go celebrate!” Kirishima-kun announced, and everyone answered with an enthusiastic cheer.
“So that’s not everything?” Izuku asked.
Rody slipped an arm around his shoulders.
“This is only the beginning, my love,” he said with a grin. “Bakugo, where did you leave the car?”
“You can walk,” Kacchan muttered, turning in the direction they needed to go.
Pino hopped off Izuku’s head, fluttered over, and landed in Bakugo’s pale blond spikes, giving him a playful peck on the crown.
“Hey! Knock it off!”
He swatted at her, though not with much conviction, and it was obvious he was in a pretty good mood himself.
“The cars are hidden a little farther away,” Todoroki-kun explained, pointing after Bakugo. “We’ll have to walk a bit. Come on—everyone’s waiting for us.”
Izuku could feel the love, the joy, and the gratitude overflowing in his chest. His heart beat so loudly and so fiercely that it was hard to believe all of this was really happening to him. But the people surrounding him had helped him understand, long ago, that it truly was.
This was his life.
It was his life, and it went on, as bright and beautiful as ever.
⸻
On the way back to the cars, Katsuki, who had been walking at the very front of the group, somehow fell behind until he was walking alongside Eijirou instead. Taking advantage of the fact that everyone’s attention was fixed on the newly engaged couple, Eijirou slipped an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders and pulled him closer, casually slipping his hand into the back pocket of Katsuki’s jeans.
“The idea turned out even better than I hoped,” Eijirou said with a smile, watching Izuku, whose face was still pink from embarrassment. Rody wasn’t faring much better.
“It did,” Katsuki agreed.
The smug little twitch at the corner of his mouth was enough to make Eijirou stop in his tracks just long enough to steal a quick kiss from those lips. Katsuki shoved his face away with half-hearted annoyance, letting out a silent snort, and they started walking again to catch up with the others.
“So,” Eijirou murmured innocently near his ear, “do you think we should get them one of those cushions now?”
Katsuki flushed instantly.
The explosion that burst against Eijirou’s face wasn’t particularly strong.
Eijirou only laughed, leaned over, and planted a loud kiss on Katsuki’s cheek.