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Izuku wakes up numb.
The morning after is when it really hits him. The way his face still stings. The hand-shaped bruise is on the side of his face. Sometimes, he forgets just how large the hero is. His handprint makes up most of the left side of his face, ebbing to a lighter color as his fingers extend.
The person in the mirror is not one he recognizes. The boy he faces has dark circles and swollen eyes. They search for something to grab onto and fail- this boy is exhausted.
He is exhausted but he has to move. Izuku has to go to class. He has to live. Maybe it’s spite. Perhaps it’s fear, but Izuku brushes his teeth and gets dressed- scratchy uniform and all- puts on his shoes, and leaves his dorm.
He makes his breakfast not aware of the spatula in his hand but it’s fine. He has to do this; to prove him wrong. To prove to his hero that he isn’t weak- or stupid or retarded or useless.
Stop thinking about it.
Stop
Stop
Stop it.
Stop it
You’re fine
Stop thinking about it.
Stop. You’re fucking fine.
Stop.
“Midoriya? You good, Man? You’ve been glaring at your eggs for like three minutes straight.”
Kaminari takes a bite of his rice as he speaks, brows raised in question.
Izuku blinks, “yeah, I’m good. Waking up still, I guess.” He clears his throat and shovels his burnt eggs onto a plate.
“Dude, what the fuck happened to your face. That bruise is fucking huge.”
Izuku grabs his cheek and forces a smile “Oh uhm, I think it’s from training.”
Kaminari squints, “But I didn’t see you in class?
Sweat drips down the back of his neck.
“D-don’t worry about it. I’m going to Recovery Girl before class.”
Izuku hates lying; he really does. He sees no reason for it most of the time. Honesty has always felt like the best choice in most situations.
But right now? Here?
It settles a deep red-hot stone in his gut. The gun feels lodged, ready to fire- bullets of lava threatening to embed into the top of his mouth and esophagus.
Because what is he supposed to say?
No one will believe you over me.
Izuku sits down and eats his eggs with no appetite- he doesn’t notice the missing sausage.
--
“How come you’re here today? I told you to take the day off.”
Aizawa looks down at his student with a frown etched into his face.
“I wanted to come today. I would rather be here than alone in my room.”
This answer is a twisted version of the truth. He wants, badly, to be alone, but he also knows he shouldn’t be. If he sits alone, all he will have to do is fall further down that spiral; further into the pit All-Might wants him in.
He will not give him what he wants.
Aizawa sighs, seeing the sad determination in his eyes.
“Just know if you need to leave, you can. At any time.”
Izuku nods, twisting his hands together.
“Now, go see recovery girl before class.”
--
“I’m sorry dearie but you don't have enough energy for me to heal you right now.”
“But it’s just a bruise.”
Recovery girl sighs, “Well, I can heal you now and you’ll have to sit out of your practical lesson, or I can heal you after.”
Izuku sucks his lips- he can live with it a bit longer. “I’ll be back after lessons.”
The older hero nods, and he leaves for class.
What if he sees it?
He’s the one who did it.
He will be angry. You’re showing it off for attention.
It’s not for attention; it’s proof of his treatment, and I tried to get rid of it.
You know he’s right.
He's always right.
He is always right.
--
Izuku wants to be strong.
He knows that he has the ability.
He knows that he is better than this.
But.
Why is he about to cry?
Why is his heart beating out of his chest?
Why- can't- he- fuck.
Izuku hears his heart beat rapidly in his chest- breathing exercises start desperately.
Two breaths in- one long breath out.
Two breaths in- one breath out.
Izuku zips up the back of his leotard and slides his gloves up his arm.
Mask around his neck, he thinks; I can do this.
School had managed to pass by quickly, and now, in period seven, Foundational Heroics, Izuku is shaking.
He rubs his hands together roughly, hoping to calm his nerves with the pressure. He’s scared and he hates it. Izuku doesn’t understand why it’s suddenly like this. Why does the thought of seeing him sends waves of trepidation and anger through him like a never-ending sea of madness.
He was fine being around him two days ago.
He was okay speaking to him just days ago.
Why has he it changed so much?
This is your fault. Nothing would have changed if I just listened.
“Deku, stop being weird.”
Izuku’s head whips to the side, where Katsuki is getting dressed.
“You’ve been looking at your hands like you're debating chopping them off for the past five minutes. Stop.” Izuku rubs the back of his neck, his face matching his sneakers.
“S-Sorry Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s brows furrow, worry etches deep into red eyes as he throws his shirt over his head, tucking it into his pants. The marks across Izuku’s face made Katsuki’s hands sweat. What happened to him? Where did he disappear to after lunch yesterday- scratch that, he wasn't even at lunch yesterday.
Katsuki watches Izuku leave the locker room and follows behind him. He’s going to figure out what’s going on.
--
Aizawa leans against a wall a few feet behind All Might as he addresses the class. Izuku knows immediately that he’s here for him. For him. Izuku smiles at the ground, happy that an adult is in his corner.
But that fantasy ends.
Izuku makes eye contact with All Might and sees it.
He’s fuming.
All Might is fuming.
As the ex-hero addresses the class smiling, Izuku can see the fury underneath it. The pool of raging lava that is flowing towards him.
Izuku’s face is burning, the handprint igniting in mental flames as he looks his mentor in the eye. He can see him staring at it.
You’re parading it around.
You’re ruining things.
This is your fault.
Izuku’s heartbeat drums in his ears from his stomach- like a rolling barrel.
He wants to be strong. To look him in the eyes and stand his ground. But he- he can’t do it.
But he has to do this. He has to be here.
Izuku looks down at the ground, burying his teeth into his bottom lip, ignoring the blood that bubbles up as the skin breaks.
“Hey, Midoriya! Looks like we are a team.”
Izuku's eyes shoot up from their spot on the ground and meet Kirishima’s bright red hair.
“Sorry, what's the exercise?” He should have been paying attention. He licks the blood away from his lips.
“Quirkless combat. Are you uh, good?” Kirishima eyes his face looking back and forth from his eyes to his cheek sporadically.
Izuku shakes his head; “Yeah, I’m good!” Izuku plasters on a smile, feeling the uncomfortable stretch of his mouth as he does.
The two boys walk over to the sparring mat and lower their bodies to position. Izuku relaxes his body- his shaking hands- and attempts to find the right headspace. To change his mindset. To put all that negative energy into training.
Kirishima is the first to move, throwing a right hook at Izuku’s jaw. Izuku ducks under his fist, throwing his hands into the others’ ribs. Kirishima jumps back, and Izuku returns his punch, a stuttering breath leaving him as he dodges. Izuku digs his left fist into his gut in response.
His opponent jumps back at this, giving himself a moment to assess. Kirishima takes a short breath, determined to win and changes his stance before rushing Izuku at the waist, pushing him forward. Izuku digs his elbow into his back as they fall to the ground. His back hits the mat with a thud.
Izuku wastes no time taking advantage of their fall and locks his legs around Kirishima’s, holding his head under his arm. A short struggle passes before his partner uses his weight to flip their bodies, kicking Izuku off him and standing up. Izuku watches Kirishima guard his torso, the way his chest moves up and down as he searches for his next move.
Izuku rises to his feet, seeming to stand fully before heading right back down and dives at his opponents’ torso, sending them both to the ground once again. Izuku realizes his mistake a second too late, and Kirishima uses this momentum to slide his body up and lock his legs around Izuku's arm and neck, trapping him. Kirishima uses his large hands to pull on Izuku’s arm, stretching the muscles painfully.
Izuku struggles, with his face pressing into the mat. Sweat drips drown his forehead and into the mat underneath him. His partners’ legs stretch over his body and trap his moment. Muscles tense as he searches for a place to grab; a release. When he finds none, he yields. Kirishima releases him from his painful position.
“How many rounds?” Izuku asks as they both stand, his nervous energy craving another. Pain blooms in his shoulder every so subtly as he stretches his arms in preparation.
“Best two out of three,” he answers, recalling All Might’s words.
The two share nods and rest back into a fighting stance. They collide like bullets, both of their adrenaline running high after the first round. Kirishima dodges another fist to the stomach, and Izuku jumps back as he attempts to grapple him once again. As Kirishima throws a fist at Izuku’s head, Izuku sends a harsh kick to the others’ cheek. In return, Kirishima gives Izuku a nice bruise on his lower jaw, the sting much more welcoming than the previous earned.
As the second-round ends and the third begins, both boys are panting and sporting proof of effort. Winning the last round, Izuku is feeling a bit confident. He managed to pin Kirishima's arm behind his back, causing the other to yield. Whoever won this round would win.
Kirishima bends back as Izuku delivers a roundhouse kick, and grabs his legs, pulling him forward. Izuku topples into him and into his fist. He reels back, blood dripping from his lip and lands a hook on the redhead's jaw. They part once again, and Kirishima gives him little time to breathe. A rough hand comes at him, palm open, attempting to hit him in the jaw.
Izuku is suddenly no longer in heroics. Kirishima is no longer the one hitting him. He’s no longer in control.
Izuku's suddenly back in a familiar room with All Might. A familiar feeling as his hero raises his ringed hand in the air. Poisonous words dripping from gold laced lips.
“This is your fault.”
One For All is flared before he can process, and a fist sends Kirishima three mats over. Izuku doesn’t even realize what he’s done, falling to the mat on all fours, chest heaving from something other than exhaustion. Tears lining his eyes as his classmates' shout in worry and confusion around him. The hand shaped bruise on his cheek stings more than any other, and he can just faintly hear the voices around him.
“Young Midoriya!” All Mights’ voice booms throughout the gym. “This is supposed to be quirkless combat, what do you think you're doing?” Izuku’s quirk is still firing on and off, bits of electricity flying as the boy attempts to catch his breath. His vision clouds with tears as he hyperventilates, clutching his shirt in a vice grip as he gags. His peers are split between helping him and helping Kirishima. All Mights’ voice is loud over the commotion, “That’s enough!”
Some classmates flinched at the volume of his voice. “Sero, Iida, help Kirishima to the Infirmary. Young Midoriya, I need to speak with you.” As the Fallen Hero closes in on the teen, his classmates falter back, not one to deny the wishes of their teacher.
Aizawa sighs and stands from his spot on the wall; the hero is quick to step between All Might and his student, a hard stare in his eyes.
“I got him, All Might. Continue with the lesson.” His brows crease at the shorter man in front of him, between he and his mentee.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Aizawa. You can’t coddle this behavior,” All Might says through gritted teeth.
At another time, Aizawa might have agreed with him. However, Izuku is actively crying, shaking; and gagging on his lunch behind him. This wasn’t some act of anger or lashing out.
“It would be illogical to prevent the other students from learning due to a simple training accident. As his homeroom teacher, I will handle this.”
All Might’s eyes dance from Eraserhead to his other students to Izuku and back. The man curses under his breath and turns to the rest of the class.
He addresses the students, his eyes trailing behind him, “Let’s move on from sparring now. Move to Beta A.”
Varying states of confusion, anger, and worry bleed from his classmates as they are led out by the older hero.
All Might follows the students out at a distance, glaring at Aizawa as he leaves; chest puffed in irritation.
Eraserhead turns around, ready to face Izuku but is surprised to see someone already there, on his knees in front of him.
The blond sat a few feet away, attempting to get his friend to calm down.
“Don’t just stand there, erase his damn quirk already,” Katsuki snaps.
Midoriya is still bent over on the mat, chest heaving and tears falling in salty waves. The contents of his stomach sit in a puddle on the mat in front of him, dribbling down his chin as a sick reminder. The boys’ body lurches again and coughs as he comes up empty.
What the fuck happened?
“Deku?” Aizawa joins Bakugou in a crouch, careful not to get too close to the heaving boy, but his quirk is no longer active; he etches closer. Izuku’s eyes are squeezed shut, sweat from over exertion dripping into the puddle below.
“Izuku?” Katsuki goes to grab onto his hand, the one tangled and pulling on his green hair, but Izuku flinches back harshly, landing on his butt.
His breath comes back in rough waves, eyes darting rapidly around the room, hands and feet pushing into the mat.
“You’ve ruined it.”
“Hey look at me, you’re safe.” Aizawa’s voice is water to fog.
“You were a mistake.”
All he had to do was follow the plan.
“Izuku?”
“Deku, fucking snap out of it already.” Even with the harshness of his words, his tone was hesitant- careful.
Izuku can taste the blood on his tongue, he can feel the burn of his cheek. He can hear the silence that echoes through the room.
“Izuku. You’re safe,” Aizawa starts through his familiar routine, the steps he is to take. The steps he learned all those years ago. “You’re at UA, in Gym B. Listen to my voice.”
Katsuki can feel the sweat forming on his brow. His heart beats rapidly- even more so than normal- edging closer to dropping into his acid-filled stomach. He’s never seen Izuku like this. He has not enough fingers to count the amount of melt downs or panic attacks he’s witnessed; the hyperventilating- the clawing, begging for it to stop- but those pale in comparison to- this.
“I’m sorry- I'm sorry, I-” Izuku’s words are cut off with a strangled sob as his eyes cinch shut.
Katsuki watches Aizawa continue his process, encouraging Izuku to heed his call, to press his feet into the ground- to breathe?
But he can't. All he can do is apologize and beg and hope he’s sorry. Why didn’t he listen. All Might could have led him to greatness.
Like he promised all that time ago.
All his fault All hisfault allhisfaultallhisfaultallhisfault
“Izuku.”
Izuku's eyes open suddenly.
“There you are. Can you hear me, Izuku?”
Aizawa’s heart lurches at the sight of Izuku’s green eyes.
His voice washes over Izuku's mind in a thick haze- like a knife though cold butter.
“You’re safe, Izuku. You’re here with us.”
His eyes are clouded over- trapped in a melting, state of fear.
“I’m going to touch your shoulder, okay?”
Izuku doesn’t respond but Aizawa continues- he needs to get him out of this.
Katsuki feels useless. All he can do is sit here.
And wait.
It pisses him off to no end. Seeing Izuku like this makes his skin crawl; his heart jumps up and down in his chest.
Katsuki watches Aizawa wrap his arms around Izuku- the way his friend tenses before conceding. A ragged breath of air drawn in before desperate sobbing huffs are released into the air.
Izuku grips onto the back of Aizawa’s jumpsuit, fingers furling into the fabric, stretching it. His face presses into his sensei’s chest, an attempt to forget, an attempt to take a full breath for the first time in over ten minutes.
Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid.
Katsuki watches as Aizawa freezes, seemingly shocked by how tightly Izuku grips his torso. Izuku breathes and sobs.
His fault his faulthisfaulthisfaulthisfault.
“That’s it, breathe.”
What hell is going on?