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Parking Wars

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The first time Midoriya Izuku met that asshole, he was driving his eighteenth birthday present from his mom, Inko: A beautiful Aston Martin-Red Bull AM-RB 001.

 

Picture this: A handsome, young man with shiny, wavy, green tresses—the wind doing that whoosh thing with his hair (like the ones you see in shampoo commercials), lovely tanned complexion, Gucci black sunglasses, and all that glamorous stuff.

 

Okay. Izuku’s hair was fluffy and messy, not shiny and wavy. His skin was pale (and occasionally red with rash), not tanned. And he was wearing a pair of dorky glasses with green metal frames, not the Gucci black sunglasses.

 

And his car? A dumb, ancient truck from the 1980's with more scratches than the number of freckles on his face.

 

But that was beside the point.

 

It was a hot day. The sunshine was literally flooding in through Izuku’s car windows, and the air conditioning system was broken (again). The only way for him to keep cool was to roll down the windows and feel the wind whip against his face as the car sped down the road (well, as speedy as jurassic, grandfather trucks can get).

 

If the situation allowed, Izuku would have let his tongue hang out of his mouth like their neighbor’s golden retriever.

 

When Izuku finally reached Kiyashi Ward Shopping Mall, where he had to pick up his mom's skirt, he immediately scanned the parking lot for the ideal space...

 

There, right next to the entrance!

 

Seized with a sense of urgency to take that spot before anyone else, Izuku’s foot pressed down on the accelerate pedal, and he zoomed towards it like a madman.

 

It's mine, mine, mine!

 

Yes! Nearly there!

 

Just a bit more till...

 

Suddenly, a loud honk startled Izuku out of his intense concentration, and his head snapped up just in time to see a red Ferrari speed by in a flash of lightning.

 

And fit snugly into his parking space.

 

Izuku’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets, his jaw dropping to the ground.

 

A blonde guy stepped out of the Ferrari.

 

Unwittingly, Izuku took in the guy’s dark shades, his tall frame with rippling muscles, clad in an Armani shirt and Calvin Klein jeans. Noticing Izuku giving him a once-over, a lazy grin spread across the blonde’s face. "Like what you see?"

 

Anger bubbled uncontrollably within Izuku.

 

So, first he stole Izuku’s parking space. Yes, that already got the green-haired man quite mad.

 

And, like that's not enough, the blonde asshole had the nerve to fish for compliments?! Can his ego blow up any bigger?!

 

The dude was totally pushing Izuku’s buttons.

 

Hot or not, Izuku was going to send that asshole’s arrogance and dignity plummeting down below to the depths of hell!

 

"Sorry to break it to you, but I've seen better," Izuku replied sweetly, flashing a malicious smile at the blonde.

 

The blonde asshole seemed taken aback for a second, before reassembling his 'cool' countenance and shrugged.

 

"Whatever, extra. You might want to go to the car park across the street, because this one's full." The blonde asshole took off his shades, revealing devious ruby eyes which flashed brightly.

 

Oh, how Izuku wanted to punch that stupid smug look out of his face.

 

"Later, then," The blonde asshole called out as Izuku stared—so furious he couldn't even talk—at the guy’s retreating back.

 

Blondie swung his keys around his fingers triumphantly. He walked with a lazy swagger, occasionally pausing to chat up girls with make-up caked faces and abnormally large boobs, and guys who looked ready to kneel down before his presence like he was some kind of Greek God.

 

Huffing, Izuku revved up his engine and headed to the aforementioned car park.

 

It was a fifteen-minute walk to the mall.

 

By the time Izuku had reached the air-conditioned vicinity, he was literally frothing at the mouth with a sheen of sweat on his face. Passersby glanced at him with distaste when they noticed his dripping wet armpits.

 

All because of that stupid, blonde asshole.

 

Just thinking about him made the exhausted, green-haired man want to punch his (admittedly) handsome but spawn-of-Satan face.

 

Someday, Izuku will get his revenge.

 

Someday.


A few days later, Izuku saw the blonde asshole again.

 

This time, his mom, Inko, was driving and he was sitting in her nice, silver Nissan Versa, with fully-functioning air-conditioning and radio (the total opposite of his beat-up truck). They were on their way home from the grocery store. Inko was singing along to Kyary Pamyu Pamyu’s ‘PonPonPon’ (albeit off-key, but Izuku’s too nice to point that out), and he was pondering about whether toothpaste or herbal cream should be applied to his athlete's foot.

 

Or maybe specialized athlete's foot cream would be more suitable.

 

He really had no idea.

 

The point was—It was a nice Saturday's afternoon and they were on their way home, when they stopped at a red traffic light.

 

Izuku just so happened to casually turn his head to the left, only to find himself looking at...

 

A red Ferrari.

 

The instant the image processed into his brain, Izuku threw himself against the window and pressed his face against it, trying to get a closer look.

 

There was no mistake.

 

It really was him.

 

"Izuku, your breath is getting the window all foggy," Inko scolded the green-haired man, before resuming to sing ‘PonPonPon’.

 

And, just like that, Izuku had an epiphany.

 

Izuku rubbed his hands delightedly as he eyed the red Ferrari. The blonde asshole hadn't noticed him yet—his attention was on the road in front of him.

 

Lowering the window so he had a clearer view of the blonde, Izuku turned to look at Inko.

 

"Mom," Izuku said seriously, looking straight into her eyes. "Your maternal love is so great that you'd sacrifice anything for your son’s happiness, right?"

 

Confused by where the conversation was going, Inko nodded carefully. Izuku could see the doubtful look crossing her face. "Yes... but sweetie, I don't understand why you're saying this—"

 

"Then you definitely wouldn't mind sacrificing a few hundred yen worth of eggs bought at a discount, right?" Izuku said gleefully, and before Inko could stop him, he dug his hand into the plastic bags and fished out the egg carton.

 

"For your son’s happiness," He said somberly.

 

Then Izuku turned to his target. He hollered a war cry at the top of his lungs, before shouting, "Revenge is MINE!" before proceeding to bombard the blonde asshole’s flawless, expensive-as-heck Ferrari with chicken eggs.

 

Oh, yes!

 

Izuku’s smile grew wider with each egg that hit the blonde asshole’s window and windshield with a satisfying splat!, whitish, gooey liquid spilling out and cascading down the car.

 

In all honesty, the stuff resembled bird shit.

 

And Izuku was loving it. Don’t get him wrong. He was usually a sweet, friendly, upstanding member of the community. But when provoked? Well... that’s a different story altogether.

 

"Heh. Serves him right. That asshole shouldn’t have stolen my parking space." Izuku mumbled, his feral grin widening as he pelted the Ferrari with a few more eggs.

 

"Oh my god, Izuku! What are you doing?!" Inko shrieked, immobilized in her seat with shock.

 

And Izuku repeated, "For your son’s happiness."

 

His mom was too appalled to reply.

 

Finally, as Izuku had eagerly anticipated, the expensive, bullet-proof window lowered and the blonde asshole's angry face appeared.

 

"What the fu—"

 

Splat!

 

Izuku’s last egg hit the blonde square in the face.

 

The blonde asshole coughed and spluttered as he furiously tried to rub off the raw egg, but to no avail. Through the blanket of sticky-white covering his face, he glared daggers at Izuku.

 

Izuku mockingly blew a kiss towards him. "Oh, babe, I sure like what I see now."

 

A maniacal laugh escaped Izuku as the light turned green and his panicking mom sped off. He heard the angry horns blaring behind them.

 

So long, sucker!


The third time Izuku saw the asshole, it was pouring outside.

 

Izuku’s eyes were bloodshot from crying as the salty-tears left his eyes and contributed to the average 170mm rainfall in the drab suburban area during September. Although he had been huddled up in the front passenger seat of his rusty heap of a truck for God-knows how many hours, Izuku was entranced by the rain droplets on his window.

 

The reason why Izuku was so gloomy?

 

His boyfriend of one year, Todoroki Shouto, Captain of the school's chess team, had dumped him for that black-haired, nerdy girl from debate team.

 

Shouto said they weren't meant for each other. That whenever Izuku was with him, it felt like 'the opponent's queen was directly above the king, but the castles on either sides were like brick walls, preventing the king from escaping and thus, checkmating him.'

 

In his words precisely.

 

Had Izuku ever cornered him like what those chess pieces had done to the king?

 

No! Of course not.

 

Well... Izuku had politely asked Shouto numerous times whether there was something going on between him and that girl from debate team, Yaoyorozu, or that excitable, big guy from his Karate class who liked to pretend that he was an airbender. But Izuku swore that was only out of curiosity! Maybe he been a bit loud with the questioning, but... oh!

 

A choking sob broke out of Izuku as he blew his nose into his last tissue, which he had refolded and reused a million times in order to save the trees.

 

He’ll cherish all those memories of his first love, from the time they fake married at the school fair to their disastrous first kiss when Izuku accidentally head-butted Shouto, causing the poor guy to fall unconscious for thirty minutes.

 

Izuku’s eyes were so clogged up with tears that he ceased to notice the bright headlights flashing in front of him, until a loud horn blared.

 

BEEP

 

Izuku rolled down his window and glared at the stupid, ignorant prick who dared to interrupt his pity party. "What?! Can't a guy even cry in peace? Just because you've got a cool, expensive, red car doesn't—"

 

Izuku immediately stopped himself, his red-rimmed, emerald eyes widening in horror when recognition dawned on him.

 

Red Ferrari. Blonde asshole. Eggs.

 

But Izuku was too disheartened to even shield himself from potential dairy products the blonde asshole could pelt him with for revenge.

 

Blondie backed his car to a position next to Izuku’s. Despite the strong winds and rain, the blonde lowered his car window and leaned a muscular arm on it. To Izuku’s surprise, he wore a rather concerned look.

 

"There's gonna be a storm out here tonight, extra. You sure you wanna be caught in the middle of it?"

 

Izuku sniffled and muttered, "Leave me alone."

 

"Look, babe." Blondie ignored Izuku’s scowl at that endearing term. "Heartbroken or not, I don't want to have a guilty conscience when your car gets fucking blown away to the next town over 'cause I abandoned your shitty, nerdy ass."

 

"Go away!"

 

"I’m just trying to help you out here, you ungrateful little shit. Where d'you live? It's getting cloudy now, I'll guide you back home."

 

"I don't need generosity from you, asshole! You don't want to face my wrath when I'm mad!"

 

"Asshole? Wrath? Are you fucking serious?" The blonde asshole snorted, but he didn't say anything else. The wind was howling louder outside, and because of the open window, the interior of Izuku’s car was getting sprayed with rainwater. It seemed like the rain was getting heavier outside; Izuku could hear the droplets pounding like horse hooves against the roof of his truck.

 

"Oi, Deku," Blondie suddenly said, breaking the silence between them. "Don't you remember me at all?"

 

Izuku frowned. How did the blonde know that demeaning nickname Izuku’s classmates used to call him back in middle school? Remember what?

 

Izuku repeated his last question aloud.

 

A disappointed look settled on the blonde’s face. "Same class in middle school, taught by that bald, old man?"

 

Bemused, Izuku took off his tear-stained glasses and cleaned it with his shirt before fitting it back on the bridge of his nose. Izuku peered at the sudden enigma before him.

 

After a minute of tapping his forehead confusedly and clicking tongues, a light bulb clicked in Izuku’s head.

 

"Kacchan!" Izuku blurted out, and just like that, his misery was forgotten.

 

“No shit. Want a gold star for that, shitty Deku?” He gave Izuku a crooked grin, his eyes glittering like rubies. Something about the spiky, blonde hair and striking red eyes struck a chord in Izuku’s memory.

 

Izuku remembered distantly that their teacher had announced that Kacchan and his family left to another country (Izuku believed it was Hawaii? He was not sure, but that would explain Kacchan’s now bronze complexion), but Izuku supposed, from the rumors recently circulating town, that Kacchan and his parents were back in Musutafu for good.

 

Izuku didn't remember much about Kacchan, but he had known him since they were snotty kids. Kacchan—his real name’s actually Katsuki, but the name felt wrong on Izuku’s tongue—had been a girl-magnet even at a young age, always full of mischief (which resulted in many harsh admonishments from teachers and the Principal), popular instigator of food fights, and constantly made fun of other kids.

 

Come to think of it...

 

"Weren't you the one who poured lemonade on my P.E. shorts and told everyone else I had an 'accident'?" Izuku narrowed his eyes at Kacchan.

 

Kacchan had the gall to smirk haughtily as he admitted, "Yeah. I was kinda... uh, an attention-seeker back then."

 

"Still are," Izuku corrected.

 

"Ah. Well, all the sexy, good lookin' guys have fucking attitudes, right?" He flashed a million-watt grin at Izuku, his sharp canines glinting dangerously in the dark.

 

Izuku was about to mouth off at him when an unexpected gust of wind whipped against his face, showering his glasses in water. Frustrated, he hastily cleaned his glasses again.

 

"We better get going, shitty nerd," Kacchan said, as he revved up his engine. "Do you still live across from school?" At seeing Izuku’s puzzled expression, the blonde chuckled, his voice low and raspy.

 

"What? I've always paid special attention to you."

 

Izuku didn't understand what the heck Kacchan just said.

 

Kacchan guided the green-haired man back home through the heavy, gray fog, always keeping close. On the contrary, Izuku felt impossibly trusting and protected with the very guy he had fought with. He was sure he would have lost his way if Kacchan hadn't lead the way.

 

Izuku killed his engine and pulled out his keys from the ignition, aware that Kacchan’s ruby eyes were on him. He suddenly felt self-conscious.

 

"Oi, Deku," Kacchan said, his usual rough, abrasive tone uncharacteristically soft.

 

Izuku glanced to his right and noticed that Kacchan was now leaning as far out of his car window as he possibly could. He didn't seem to mind the now-gentle drizzle wetting his blonde hair, which stuck to his scalp. It weirded Izuku out that he found it such an endearingly attractive sight.

 

"I was a fucking wimp in middle school," Kacchan began. “I never had the balls to ask you out. There I was, watching you rant about superheroes and pine over the chess geek."

 

Izuku’s jaw dislodged from his face. Now that was what he would call an earth-shattering revelation.

 

The blonde laughed. "I even thought it was cute as fuck when you threw those eggs at my car, which, by the way, I spent two hours cleaning off."

 

Izuku blushed, abashedly looking down on his lap, and Kacchan continued.

 

"So, I guess you owe me two hours... Well, uh, are you free on Friday night? Movies? You and I—me?" Kacchan’s tongue tripped over the last few words, and Izuku registered with shock that the blonde was actually nervous.

 

Izuku did not want to admit it, but he enjoyed their past two encounters on the road. They were both exhilarating and frustrating, lucky and unlucky, stimulating and tiring. Despite Izuku’s barbaric behavior towards him, Kacchan had still helped the green-haired man out at his lowest. He also distracted Izuku from thinking about one Todoroki Shouto who, by the way, had the most ridiculous dye job Izuku had ever seen in his life. Of course, he never told Shouto that, but now he kind of wanted to.

 

Izuku pursed his lips, pondering how he was going to answer Kacchan.

 

Were Shouto and I meant to be?

 

No.

 

Did I contribute to the many reasons why our relationship didn’t work out?

 

Maybe.

 

Is Kacchan worth a shot?

 

...

 

Yes.

 

Feeling bold, courageous and determined, Izuku grinned as he maneuvered towards the window and eagerly leaned forward until his lips hovered dangerously close to Kacchan’s mouth.

 

"I'd love to."