bambi

It had been several years since Izuku Midoriya disappeared without a trace. The police and the heroes alike searched for months and months with nobody finding a damn thing. It was a national tragedy; Deku had the potential to change the world for the better and his loss would never be forgotten. There was even a day reserved for him where people would light green candles and place them on their porches and balconies where they would pray for his return. His mother wailed, his friends mourned, and you were free.

You were free. Free from those yearning stares, those two-long hand touches, those unsolicited gifts, and those unwarranted nighttime visits. You always knew you were never safe with Midoriya around—or possibly you were too safe—and when he stopped existing, your life had gotten better. Easier. You no longer had to live on edge, afraid of catching a tuft of green hair around every corner, spying on you through any window he could find, finding you even when you were out of town. He was gone. 

You were free. Until you weren’t.

It was all over the news: the surprising resurgence of the tragically-lost, rising hero Deku. You’d heard it and seen it. The man who claimed to be Izuku Midoriya had the same unruly, curly hair that bounced when he walked, the same eager, green eyes that complimented his innocent facade, and the same brutal scars from all those times he’d broken his bones that fed his emblem. He looked exactly like Midoriya, only more refined. He was more muscular, a tad taller, and there was a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. You’d heard from friends all about how he retained all of his memories from before his disappearance—even the ones that nobody would know about except for him—but had no memory of where he’d been or what had happened while he was lost.

There wasn’t a single soul on the planet that didn’t believe that Midoriya had returned. You knew better. You knew that he, whoever he was, was an imposter. But it wasn’t like you could prove it.

For weeks, you avoided places where you knew this faux-Midoriya was going to be. Friends invited you to ‘welcome back’ parties where Midoriya’s life would be celebrated, but you never showed. You didn’t take the main streets where you knew this new hero would be patrolling, always making sure to check the news to see every instance the camera caught him performing one of his many good deeds. You might’ve been getting a little obsessive yourself, but it was worth it to never have contact with the imposter.

It didn’t take much time for the long-forgotten creeping feeling to sneak its way into your home and on your skin. You didn’t think that faux-Midoriya would know to stalk you like the real Midoriya, especially since the real Midoriya had always kept that part of his life secret and safe, just as you kept the event that let you know Midoriya wasn’t really back locked away inside your mind. You hadn’t ever told anybody about it. Still, you knew he was watching you. You never saw him, but you felt him.

As the days progressed, this feeling only got worse. You would find bouquets of flowers left on your doorstep and little notes left on your car. You’d told you friends how you were feeling unsafe, dancing around the topic of how insane you thought the world was for buying that Midoroya had returned, but whenever you brought it up, you were met with rolling eyes and tea sips. Even Bakugou believed it was really Midoriya who had returned, and you’d only found out that little fact when you attended a rather large get-together at a nearby bar to celebrate a huge win for the Ground Zero hero agency.

The only reason you went out was because you thought Midoriya wasn’t going to be there. You missed seeing people, and you’d thought you were going to be safe since Bakugou never seemed to like Midoriya, but it seemed that years away from one’s annoying ex-rival softens one up a little.

Panic struck you as soon as you saw him. The imposter was chatting it up with another hero, asking them questions about their quirk and support items, much like the real Midoriya would be doing, when those soft green eyes slid over to you. His face lit up and he smiled that smile—the one that was only reserved exclusively for you, the one that made chills run down your spine.  

You were out the door immediately, shaking uncontrollably, crumbling against the bar’s side wall. It took a couple attempts for you to finally light the cigarette between your trembling fingers, but before you could take your first drag, you heard him speak.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.” His voice was like sweet cream, rich and soft. Your gaze went up to meet familiar kind, dishonest eyes. “You’ve always had such pretty skin. I’d hate to see you ruin it.”

“M-Midoriya,” you whispered, tone flat, voice hoarse. He crouched down beside you and brushed some of the hair in your face back and behind your hair. It was such a small gesture, but you felt completely violated.

“Hi, bunny,” not-Midoriya said, “It’s good to see you.”

You shook your head, because his appearance was absolutely uncanny. This man was Izuku Midoriya, only there was no possible way that could be true.

Midoriya seemed content by your befuddlement. You were sure he was enjoying this new life, eating up all the attention he’d gotten since his return, but he didn’t have you to torture. The real Midoriya could never live without filling you up with unease.

He eyed the cigarette burning between your fingers and clicked his tongue. “You’re shivering,” he mused, taking the cigarette out of your hand. He smiled faintly at its cherry, took a long drag, and put it out against the brick wall. Then, he clasped his hands over yours. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you?”

“Don’t-!”

His touch lingered like it always used to. He hummed and brushed his thumb down the palm of your hand, gazing up at you through too-long lashes. “I’ve missed that face you’re making too.”

You had to remind yourself that it wasn’t him. It couldn’t possibly be him. You knew better. You knew what happened. It wasn’t him.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Midoriya flashed a wide, pearly-white smile and brought your hand up to his cheek. He was warm from his blushing. He’d always been so warm. He closed his eyes and pushed your hands down to his neck—the last place you’d touched him when he was alive. “But you should know,” he whispered darkly, “nothing will ever keep me from my bunny for too long.”

“No,” you croaked, pulling your hand back. This wasn’t real. He was supposed to be gone. You were supposed to be free.

“Yes,” he crooned, eyes opened and gleaming with delight..

It couldn’t be him. It could never be him. Izuku Midoriya was gone, and this man was a fraud. You were sure of it. He could look, sound, and feel like him, but there was a zero percent possibility that he had returned.

You would know. You burned his body after you killed him.