Work Text:
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Waking up is a slow occasion.
People always say that after a nightmare, your immediate physical reaction is to bolt upright in bed, hyperventilating and sweat-soaked. That’s how it always goes in the movies, books, and TV shows.
For Izuku, however, it’s nowhere near as dramatic.
Instead, it’s not a sudden awakening, it’s incredibly and painfully delayed. As his eyes gradually drift open, all at once, he’s overly aware of the sinking, heavy feeling residing near his heart. Instead of hyperventilating, he feels his lungs begin to feel tense, and then he’s drowning. Not in a sense of shortness of breath, but in a way that forces up emotion, which collects as pressure behind his eyes.
Begrudgingly, he accepts his fate, and doesn’t resist the temptation.
Over the past several months of hero training in Yuuei, Izuku had managed to steel himself slightly. His instinct to cry at any overwhelming scenario had begun to dissipate. The development if anything made him euphoric.
It also lead him to figure out that holding back tears is a less than ideal way to cope when he had his first mental breakdown in sole companionship.
That’s why he now pushes to sit himself up underneath the All Might franchised weighted blanket in his dorm room. Tears had slowly begun slipping down his face and there was no sight into the near future in which they’d cease. It dawns on him that he’s completely silent, for the time being; a saving grace, truly.
A shaky sigh escapes him as he makes an effort to reach for his phone that lays next to him on the mattress. Flicking it on, he has to momentarily squint at the screen before dropping the brightness. Clearing his eyes on an exposed arm, he blinks a few times before settling his gaze on the time.
3:14 AM.
He can’t help but feel a bit disappointed at this. It’s Sunday, so there’s no school, and therefore no reason for him to have to get up early. But he knows from experience that it’s highly unlikely he’ll be finding himself asleep for the rest of the night.
As he wipes a stray tear from the screen, he looks to his background.
Him, Uraraka, Iida and Todoroki all accommodate the photo. He and Uraraka stand in the front, vibrant grins marking their features. Iida and Todoroki stand behind, both maybe not quite as enthusiastic about having a picture taken, but equally attempting to hold warm, friendly smiles.
A pang of fondness buries itself in his lungs, and the tears begin to swell in both size and amount. He chokes down a sob as he types in his passcode and hovers his thumb over the messaging app. Momentarily taking a deep breath and giving himself some time to wipe his eyes and cheeks of the tears that continue to flow forth, he promptly follows through. The group chat affectionately named ‘The Breakfast Club’ , consists of the four of them, which he’d offhandedly heard is called ‘Dekusquad’ by his classmates, much to his own dismay. He’d had several objections to the title, but they had remained unmoving.
When he taps on, the last message having been left at 10:40 PM, they had left off with well wishes of dreams and lengthy sleep. He feels almost guilty for having a nightmare. Even though his dreams aren’t within his manipulation, he can’t help but feel like he’s disrupted some sort of balance .
He knows it’s so early in the morning, and all three of them are likely still asleep, but he’s desperate. The nightmare has left him rattled and uncomfortable, and being alone isn’t helping in the slightest. Before he can decide against it, he’s typing out a message, fueled by the source of anxiety that continues to force itself on his mind, lungs and stomach.
My Legs!: are any of you guys somehow awake?
He waits for about a minute until he sees Iida join the chat and begin typing.
God’s Most Perfect Boy: Well now I am.
Guilt surges through him, and he winces at his screen.
God’s Most Perfect Boy: Is everything alright, Midoriya?
By this point Todoroki has also joined the chat, but isn’t actively typing.
My Legs!: just a nightmare. wanted to try take my mind off it. sorry for waking you guys.
Uraraka has also joined now, but it doesn’t last long until the three of them collectively leave the group chat.
That doesn’t resonate well with him at all, and he can’t help but feel he’d been abandoned . He certainly wasn’t expecting that, especially of those he’d considered his friends. Izuku had grown used to them being extremely caring over each other and himself, even Todoroki, who had come out of his shell a lot more over the last several months. He understands he’d woken them all up at whatever–o’clock in the morning, but he wished one of them had at least told him to simply shut up instead of leaving him to his own devices. Maybe the acknowledgement would have been something to cling to instead of the blistering quiet of the night. There’s no anger at the three of them, just disappointment, with the added dreadfully obvious guilt that trickles into his lungs and seems to clog his airway.
The tears burn hot and fast as he solemnly turns off his phone and scoots into the spot where his bed is pressed into the corner. He feels so vulnerable like this, and he’s never felt more alone, even with at least twenty other people in the building.
He brings his knees up to his chest, digging his face into the bare skin to try and stop the onslaught of tears, begging his heartbeat to slow itself down before he fears it will jump into his own throat. The silence is deafening, and every hiccuping sob that breaks past his walls seems to echo like a shattering plate on tile. His shoulders instinctually arch up to smother his ears in the fabric of his large, grey nightshirt, but the feeling of fabric on cartilage makes him flinch. It’s rough and comfortable and why does he have to be alone right now when he could be at home in his mother’s loving arms who’d be whispering promises of everything turning out fine and that it was just a nightmare and that he hadn’t really just witnessed everyone he’d ever loved being killed while he was completely and utterly useless to them and everything hurts why does it hurt—
There’s muffled talking as Izuku suddenly feels the bed dip.
Why did I just stand by like that?
He can hear someone saying his name, but it’s so far off and distant and he hears but he doesn’t all at once.
Why wouldn’t my body move ?
The chatter continues amongst itself, and it feels like static in his ears.
Why can I never be enough?
It all comes to a screeching halt as he gasps in fresh air. Something new comes into contact with him. He can feel a significant surface of cold and heat on either of his forearms, and he latches on to the sensation like a lifeline. He realises now that his arms had been pried from around his shaking form, yet he hadn’t even processed the foreign touch. He forms an idea of his position, the awareness of several bodies surrounding him a comforting presence as he draws in frantic, desperate breaths.
He hears his name again, only barely less distant, but it’s enough. The voice is stricken with worry, and all he can think is that that’s probably his fault too. He’s worrying someone when he should be perfectly fine, and why can’t he just be okay —
“ Izuku .”
His heart stops in his chest. The tears feel like they consecutively halt all at once, because that’s his name. Not his surname, but his given name, and no one besides his mother calls him that, not even All Might.
And yet…
He feels his entire body untense, his knees distancing from his chest and his head begins to hang low.
“You’re alright, Izuku. We’re here, just take deep breaths.”
He obliges, and feels his lungs fill with a large bout of air. He recognises now, that it’s Todoroki who is still gripping his arms in a tentative hold, who is also speaking to him in a hushed and collected tone.
“Everything is going to be just fine. We’re here now. Can you talk to us to?”
He tries, he really does, but all that escapes him is a muted sob. There’s a moment of silence where they must be anticipating a reply. When he provides them nothing, he has to turn his head away in shame. Useless. He’s well and truly useless .
When the reticence extends into a full minute, the hands holding him steady drift up. From his forearm to his bicep, and then he’s being delicately pulled forward, and there are two strong arms holding him, grounding him.
He’s hauled out of the corner tenderly and ends up practically curled up in Todoroki’s lap seconds later. His head is now buried in his shoulder, and as he grips on to the shirt, he can already feel the tears wiping away on the fabric. He’ll have to apologise for that later, too.
He would have scrambled away, not wanting to intrude on his personal space, but he doesn’t have the energy. He feels his tears quicken their pace again when a hand begins combing through his hair, and two others begin rubbing wide, comforting circles into his back.
He’s tired, and sensitive, and it’s all so much. He doesn’t want to leave this moment, because right now he’s safe and his friends are nothing but loving, and now he’s lost in his selfishness but he needs it with every fibre of his being.
It remains like this for a long time. The hand that never stops carding through his green locks easing through tangles created in restless sleep. Iida and Uraraka never once stopping as they continue to palm over his jittery frame.
Eventually, the hands move and he’s slowly being pulled away from Todoroki’s chest. He can hate himself for it later, but he actually whines at the loss of contact, which leads to him biting down on his lip in an act to push down the sting of embarrassment. He settles himself away against the wall again, having to force himself to not curl right back up into a protective ball.
“Midoriya.”
Izuku winces at how tired Iida sounds. His fault.
“Can you tell us what happened? We’re here to help you.”
Like I couldn’t do the same for you.
His jaw clenches as he pleads his body to stop shaking. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t bring himself to look up and meet their eyes. Steeling his mind, he opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it shut again when no sound comes through. He looks to his hands that now rest between his crossed legs, and comes to a conclusion. He tentatively lifts his hands and begins signing in slow, stuttered movements.
I’m sorry.
He can hear a sharp intake of breath and suddenly there’s Iida’s firm grip on both of his knees. It gets his attention, and he forces himself to lift his head and meet the stern gaze of two dark red orbs. They’re not threatening, but Izuku feels the way they pierce right through him in a sense of defiance and certainty. When their eyes meet, a surge of either guilt or sympathy, or maybe even both, passes over Iida’s face. The grasp of his arms is removed and the boy’s hands begin signing back.
Don’t apologise. You did the right thing, talking to us when you weren’t feeling alright. If this ever happens again, you let us know. Okay?
Izuku begins to lower his head when Iida’s hand raises it. Withdrawing, he signs again.
Okay?
He resigns himself to nodding. He knows he would have only made another apology if he were to have signed in response.
Uraraka now raises her hands with a furrowed brow.
Water?
Izuku startles a bit at the suggestion. His immediate reaction is to shake his head, but a look from the girl makes him rethink. With a lowered gaze and a nag to his teeth, he hesitantly gives a small nod. He can almost feel the relief pulse from his friends.
He has to suppress himself before the waterworks fire into high gear again. It’s probably a little pathetic, really, but he’d be lying if the sheer thought of having people outside of immediate family care about him wasn’t sobering. He’s never been used to people doing so much for him, nevertheless at three in the morning.
Uraraka verbally tells them she’ll be back soon as she stumbles out the room in a silent shuffle. Despite their group being awake, the rest of the dorm is likely still fast asleep, and drawing attention to himself in his current state is far from ideal.
He can feel Todoroki and Iida’s eyes still on him as he tries to stop the urgent whimpers that push their way up. The heels of his palms shakily meet his eyes and he chokes out what he hopes to be the last sob.
After a good minute of prolonged silence, Uraraka returns with an outstretched arm offering a chilled bottle of water. Izuku sighs again as he extends his own arm tentatively and takes the bottle from his friend. Exhaustion has abruptly begun hitting him all at once, and he finds himself half-lidded as he stares at his hands and the bottle that now occupies them. His scarred fingers trace the indents in the plastic, and then the words that line the label.
“Midoriya—”
“No.”
All four of them collectively start in both alarm and bemusement. Izuku hadn’t meant to react like that, but it had been spur of the moment. He blinks owlishly at the bed sheets before raising his gaze to the three visibly conflicted teenagers in front of fim.
He watches as Uraraka draws in breath to speak, but he beats her to it.
“Izuku.”
Now it’s the other three’s turn to blink inquisitively at his barely stable form.
“Wh—”
“Izuku.”
He interjects again. Izuku can only stand by as he physically watches the gears turning in each of their heads. It’s simultaneous, their eyes blowing wide as soon as the realisation is made. He has to duck his head to avoid the discomfort.
“Do you mean…” Todoroki asks, his voice not hiding any of the surprise he evidently portrays.
Izuku’s response comes in an immediate nod, followed by an uncontainable sniffle.
He feels extremely vulnerable right now, like a kicked puppy on the side of the road. Here he is, begging for any variant of platonic intimacy, and it’s probably so selfish, but he’s desperate and wants to be able to secure what he has. So many times, anything he thought was within his grasp always became unreachable in some obscure manner. Maybe, this way it could feel a little more permanent.
Yet, he’s overwhelmed by emotion and making bold leaps one after the next, and whatever he’s expecting from this heavy load is a mystery even to him. Perhaps he’s anticipating denial, or to be blown off, or a positive outcome like acceptance and reciprocation. It’s almost impossible to know, because he’s always known his perceptive of social values is largely skewed in contrast to those of a kinder upbringing. He knows of the inclination, but of how much he’s practically unknowing. He’s always had trouble picking up smaller social cues. Unless it’s blatantly pointed out to him, it’s better to not rely on Izuku to notice on his own behalf.
That’s why he’s unsure. Because maybe he’s read their tightly-knit friendship wrong, and it’s unfair to drop something on this like them so early. It’s an open-ended possibility to him, and usually he’d never take the plunge like this, but it’s a night of firsts, and this could be the first time he’s had a friend — or even better, friends — who can call him for who he is and not what he is.
“You’re serious?” Uraraka questions. She’s dropped the worry, and now it’s replaced with a sedate realness.
Izuku nods again, making sure they can at least understand through his facial expression that he’s not underlying the gesture’s severity. It’s important to him, whether they’d know it or not, and he wants them to at least not think of him as a fool for jumping into something of such value.
There’s another sniffle, but it’s not his own. Confusedly, Izuku raises his head again to see the three of them all looking distressingly near tears in the low light.
“Was it… Was it not alrig—”
“ Izuku… ” Uraraka eases herself forward and wraps her arms tightly around his side. Izuku’s eyes well with the equal force of a particularly large wave.
“U–Urara—”
“Ochako. Please.” She’s sniffling into his shoulder, and Izuku can’t help but wish to be doing the same.
There’s a wet spot forming on his shirt and he can’t bring himself to care, because now he’s just positively overjoyed.
“Tenya. You can call me Tenya.”
Todoroki hums in a gentle agreement. “And you can call me Shouto.” Izuku watches his gaze drift over all three of them for a second. “All of you can.”
Soon enough, it’s not just Ura— Ochako crying anymore. They’re all quietly crying of shared sentimental joy, even Shouto, as Ochako pulls the whole lot of them into a tearful group hug. All four of them being allowed on first name basis for each member through exchanges of stuttered agreement.
While the nightmare still haunts him throughout what could have been a full thirty minutes of silent drilling into his scrambled, disorganised thoughts, Izuku truly adores his friends for being able to tear him from his troubles no matter the situation. They defy all boundaries just to make his day, and for that he’s nothing but eternally grateful to have them in his life. No matter what they’ve gone through, they always have and always will find some way to make light of times of incident.
As the group slowly part again, it’s with smiles adorning their faces and tears staining their cheeks. Eventually, it’s Tenya who repositions himself as mediator, who is quick to wipe his eyes of moisture and settle back into the situation at hand.
“Izuku,” he’s almost giddy just hearing his name, “you don’t have to tell us if it’s something you’d rather keep to yourself. We understand there are some things you just can’t tell others, and we’ll respect that. But, please don’t hesitate to come to us if you’re ever just in need of someone. We’re more than happy to be there for you, because it’s what we’re all here training to be. It’s not just a hero’s job to save those in physical harm, you know.”
Izuku’s lip catches between his teeth, and he lets out an audible sob that catches himself off guard.
Despite this, Tenya continues.
“We’ll always be here for you, Izuku, because you’re our friend.”
He’s trying so hard not to breakdown again, but his friends are going to be thorough.
“Izuku,” Shouto begins, almost solemnly. “You’ve done an unimaginable amount of good in my development as both a hero and as a friend. I don’t think just simply being there for you for a lifetime could even repay you for the debt you’ve stuck me in. I think it’s fair to say I could never even hope to equal up to the levels of heroism you manage to reach. You’re just…”
Izuku can hear as Shouto stutters, trying to find the fitting word.
“You’re just… remarkable . I—… I really don’t know how you do it, sometimes. You make everything seem so effortless. To hell with All Might, my idol is probably you .”
How are lungs supposed to work again?
“They’re not even kidding. You’ve done more good in the last year than I have in my entire life. Your potential as both a hero and friend to absolutely anyone is immeasurable. There’s supposed to be multiple realities where every outcome becomes possible, but you being anything other than what you are now is just completely impossible to imagine.” Uraraka adds.
He’s not even trying to stop the tears at this point, and before he knows it, he’s being wrapped in yet another gentle hug, of which leads to the four of them toppling over. There’s teary giggling as the group continue to lay there, trying their best to keep as quiet as possible for the sake of their classmates.
Before Izuku knows it, he’s stuck in the middle of the pile, his friends acting as a barrier separating him and the negativity, forgotten on the wind. There’s a hand in his hair again, carding through the green, unruly locks, which he assumes is Tenya based off positioning. Ochako is hugging his arm next to him, and Shouto is partially laying on top of him on his other side.
Despite all the limbs and elbows, Izuku is completely and utterly bliss in the moment. He’s comfortable and safe and that’s all he could ever ask for during their interludes between the chaos.
“I love you guys… so much .”
It’s quiet, but it’s something, and it brings new tears right back up until all four of them are eventually word vomiting varying degrees of affection.
With the water bottle forgotten on the nightstand, for the first time in months, Izuku feels totally at home.
He doesn’t stop himself from drifting into a calm, dreamless sleep.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Since the dorms had been set up, Shouta hadn’t experienced much problem with the students. The odd gathering escalating to a higher volume than permitted, maybe an overactive conversation or game in the common room causing more uproar than socially acceptable. But aside from that, curfew breakers were very few and spread apart.
That’s why, he’d been especially shocked, when three of his top students successively left their rooms all at once. The monitors at his desk he’d been doing paperwork on had blinked on when the motion sensors activated in several of the hallways.
Paperwork forgotten, he’d watched as they all rushed down their dedicated straights; Todoroki having taken the elevator down, Iida joining him and traveling to the second floor, while Uraraka was all but dashing down the staircase in what he can only express as boiling determination. Soon, they had each arrived at Midoriya’s floor, sharing a worried look before pushing the door open and disappearing from sight.
Shouta had sighed and given them the benefit of the doubt, deciding to let an hour pass of whatever possible scenario warranted disobeying dorm regulations. Uraraka had left once within the first ten minutes to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water before retreating back to the room from which she’d came. When no one had left the room since, and the hour of time was up, Shouta slipped out of the faculty apartment and began making the trip to the second floor.
It’s where he was now, climbing the steps as he orders a series of reprimanding for the heroes-in-training. His hands are dug into his pockets as his feet hit the landing, and he makes his way down the corridor.
The door to Midoriya’s room is still swung open slightly, which filters what little glow emanates from the hall lights. It’s enough, though, to make out a fair idea of what he’d walked into.
His four students lay atop the bed sheets, Todoroki, Uraraka and Iida surrounding the curly-haired kid with arms holding him in supportive or comforting embraces. They’re practically piled on each other, but it’s obvious they’re comfortable with the way small smiles rest on each of their faces. He notices, however, that each of their faces are red and tear-stained, and finally the pieces click into place.
Shouta huffs amusedly, before he gradually eases the door closed, making sure not to disturb the quartet.
He decides that just this one time, the situation is probably viable.
He also decides that it’s possible some new dorm arrangements are in order, especially for a particular set of friends.
And, if Shouta goes back just to throw several blankets over their peaceful forms, well, that’s his own business.
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬