Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya stepped lightly into the gym, trying not to make much noise or attract attention to himself. Eyes on the floor. Don’t take your time. Look like you know what you’re doing.
No one here knew him, after all. He’d moved away from home a week ago, traveling all the way across the country to the quiet town of Yuuei. The warm weather was such a change—it put a spring in his step and some cheer on his face... all the way until he’d arrived at the gym.
The last time Izuku had stepped into a gym, he’d been in high school, the stares of other alphas adding pressure on his pores. It made him feel heavier than he already was at the time. Physical Education classes were his least favorite. Nothing like being scoffed at, or being picked last to join a team. And then having everyone on the team act like you didn’t exist. All because you had some extra weight you couldn’t get rid of.
At least, making friends wasn’t a requirement for this gym.
Izuku hurried to the alphas’ locker room, picking out an inconspicuous locker in the corner. He shoved his duffel bag in halfway, took out his hand towel and his phone, and then paused when he realized that the locker didn’t come with a lock.
What did the membership fee pay for, then? A down payment for the people signing up for their New Year’s Resolution?
He turned and glimpsed a bit too much skin—a couple of men had stripped down in front of their lockers, all bulging biceps and trim abs that looked like they were able to cut diamond.
Yeah, that. That was what he was paying for.
Izuku tore his gaze away, hurrying past them. He felt like a whale next to these guys. Maybe he should’ve brought a bath towel to wrap himself in.
He stepped out of the locker room and made for the far end of the gym, where no one was. There were some treadmills there, and some cycling machines. He could start with that. Better yet, the treadmills faced a window overlooking a forested area. Izuku could pretend that he was in a world of his own. That no one’s eyes were on his back. That everyone in this gym wouldn't notice if he just suddenly turned invisible or even drop dead.
Except the funny thing was, he’d come to the gym because he was tired of being alone. Heh.
His last boyfriend—friend with benefit? College roommate-turned-on-and-off-partner?—had straight-up said that Izuku wasn’t his type anymore. Monoma had found an omega, a slender pale wisp of a man, and he’d told Izuku that he was tired of all of Izuku’s extra flab. Not to mention that Izuku was also an alpha.
Izuku had kind of been in love with him. And it had hurt, a lot.
He pushed the ache in his chest aside, powering on a treadmill. The control panel had way too many complicated buttons. Which Izuku should be able to figure out, since he’d majored in statistics and all. It was just... He wasn’t really here to get healthy. He just wanted some weight gone, he wanted to look good enough to land a boyfriend, and...
He wanted to be normal. He wanted to be an alpha who liked omegas, but he wasn’t. He wanted to look like the alphas on magazine covers, he wanted... someone to gaze at him, and not be repulsed. He didn’t want to look at himself and be so disgusted he wanted to cry and sob until he could no longer see himself through the tears.
He pushed a random button to start the treadmill. It was kind of slow. He found the button to speed it up. Then he sped it up even more. His new sneakers pounded against the treadmill belt, his lungs thumping with the strain. Sweat started to bead on his skin. Some discomfort was supposed to be good for you, right? That’s why all those people on tv said ‘Feel the burn’, right?
Izuku grasped the support arms on the treadmill, leaning on them a little. Maybe he should slow the machine down. The belt rolled by too quickly, and he was starting to struggle to keep up. It was embarrassing that he just started and he couldn’t even hold on for longer than a few minutes. A failure of an alpha.
He tried to find the speed toggle button. But between the jogging and his glasses sliding down his nose due to the sweat, he couldn’t see enough in time to stop the machine.
Izuku tripped; his stomach dropped and his entire weight lurched forward. He hit the moving rubber with a jolt of pain, his legs sliding out from under him. Izuku saved himself by gripping the support arms—just so he could keep his face from smashing into the belt. But pressed intimately against the treadmill, Izuku hadn’t accounted for the belt’s friction. It dug into his exercise shorts and dragged it downward: down his waist, down his hips.
If Izuku didn’t stop it soon, the machine would strip him nude. If that really happened, he would move towns again and never look back.
He lifted his hand to reach for the controls, at the same time his waistband slid down his cock, to his thighs. The treadmill belt ground rough and uncomfortably against Izuku’s sensitive head, trying to pull it further down—as though this had turned into some really weird sex scene.
It felt like he was being dragged across a rough surface, except his cock bore the brunt of that friction, every inch of it plastered against moving rubber—without lube.
And his fat ass was bare. Everyone could see it.
Izuku reached for the control panel, his tip kissing the rubber belt, his fingers just inches away from the console, desperately seeking the word Stop.
Just as he was about to hit it, someone stepped up to the machine, powering it down. The belt slowed. It stopped trying to pull his cock into the fourth dimension.
Izuku looked up to thank the person. His voice stuck in his throat.
Life had a way of just making you wish you didn’t live it every single day. Of course, who else had to witness his humiliation but the most handsome alpha in the gym? Actually, he was the alpha that set the standard for Izuku’s taste in men.
It was one thing to embarrass yourself in front of an omega. But alphas were a different breed entirely. As an alpha, you wanted to be better than the next alpha. You wanted to be more, you wanted them to respect you.
And this was one hell of an alpha, with burnt caramel scent and broad shoulders, his pecs bulging behind his tank top, his biceps thick and lovely. He had spiky platinum hair and stunningly piercing ruby eyes, he had kissable full lips and a strong jaw.
Everything that this alpha was, Izuku was not.
He was ready to bet a million bucks that Mr. Handsome had dates lined up every night until next year. Or maybe he already had a boyfriend. Or he was married. And somewhere out there, Mr. Handsome had an internet mailing list for ‘Notify me when this man becomes available.’
Izuku wanted to find that mailing list to sign up himself. Not that he thought he had a chance or anything. He isn’t the type to delude himself. He just wanted to feel close to the alpha in a way the man couldn’t see his face because Izuku would be reminded about this embarrassing gym affair for a very long time.
He yanked his exercise shorts up his thighs, stuffing his cock out of sight. Bad enough that Mr. Handsome had seen his ass. He didn’t need to know that a chubby alpha like Izuku had gotten hard for him.
Except when he looked again, he found Mr. Handsome’s gaze raking back up to his eyes. There was an odd expression on his face. Did he think... that Izuku had done this on purpose? Did he think Izuku was a flasher or some sort of pervert? It isn’t an incomprehensible thought considering he was getting a bit hard that the alpha had seen his ass… but still!
“Are you okay?” Kacchan asked, holding a hand out to Izuku.
Izuku straightened his shoulders. He was an alpha. And he wasn’t about to show any weakness in front of anyone. “I’m fine. Thanks.” His answer was curt and short. His ears were burning red and Izuku hoped his hair would cover his ears so that the alpha couldn’t see his embarrassment. The universe should at least allow him this shred of dignity.
He ignored Kacchan’s hand and picked himself up. Then he took his phone and towel, making his way back to the locker room. Several people stared at him along the way. Izuku’s skin prickled all over, hair stood behind his neck—he could feel them judging. He wished he’d worn black instead of gray—black was a slimming color, right? Maybe it would make him feel less out-of-place.
It would be a month, probably three, before he returned again. Probably during the nighttime so no one would recognize him. It could also be never. He just needed to figure out when Kacchan wasn’t working so he could build up the courage to come again.
Not for the first time, Izuku felt all the pounds he’d put on when he’d let himself go after the breakup. At the back of his mind, he heard the constant whispers from school, telling him he was fat and ugly and everything undesirable.
It was okay to be fat.
Izuku just wished... that he believed it, himself.