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Katsuki sends a pointed glare at his teacher from across the room, despite said teachers continued avoidance of his gaze.
Its been three days since school started back up, Kaminari and Ashido groaning at their upcoming tests and Kirishima whining about missing his mom's home cooked meals a constant reminder, 7 since Aizawa seemingly stumbled upon him in his room.
And the asshole hasn't said a damn thing about it.
He bounces his leg in an attempt to get rid of the restless energy in his veins before forcing himself to stop with a fist hitting his knee. Clicks his tongue instead, which only manages to gain the attention of Deku in front of him, green eyes glancing back in his direction before looking away just as quickly when Katsuki sneers.
Fucking annoying idiots. Both of them.
And that's not even mentioning the fact that he barely remembers anything he did while he was ill. Just a vague sense of shame, and the way Aizawa acted when he snapped back telling Katsuki he'd obviously messed up somewhere. Said or did something he shouldn't have.
Because the man has been down right nice. Despite the fact that he'd caught one of his students sneaking around the dorms for damn near half of their entire 'vacation'.
He almost laughs in the middle of class at the word. Like the idea of going home and then being thrown out not even an hour later was some sort of paradise only he was lucky enough to experience. Not to mention that he'd already felt unsteady on his feet, and even the dimmest of lights had made his head pound and his eyes burn.
Add those stupid suppressers that the old hag had basically shoved down his throat and it was practically over for him.
He couldn't protect himself on the streets without his quirk, and no way in hell was he crawling back to his parents on his hands and knees and begging for forgiveness, so that left him with no other choice but to return to the dorms.
And sure, he could have spilled some shitty sob story to his teacher to let him stay. But why the fuck would he go through that embarrassment (Or the fear of Aizawa still refusing him entry) when he could just sneak in through Kirishima's window that the idiot always leaves unlocked?
It hadn't even been that hard reaching the right floor. And after that, avoiding the older hero had been a breeze, seeing as he barely left the first floor and was gone most of the day anyways. All Katsuki had to do was make sure he left no trace when he stumbled downstairs for something to eat and then disappear back up into the safety of his room, something he already had plenty of practice doing, and then sneak out and join up with the rest of his classmates when it was time to come back.
It was on that third day that his plan got a bit more difficult.
Because he thought he'd been doing ok. Drinking and eating what little his body actually allowed him to keep down, but apparently it wasn't enough.
His breathing had become more labored sometime in the night, chest constricting as he'd tried to so some light stretches to make sure he didn't fall too far behind once class was back in session, and when he sat down on the ground to try and calm the rough wheezes pushing their way passed his lips he couldn't manage the energy to stand back up.
After that things get foggy. He remembers feeling cold, and the familiar burn of vomit working its way up his throat. Remembers seeing All Might, bloody and broken looking, standing next to his door. Demanding to know why he didn't try harder, why he let him down.
Remembers trying to use his quirk. The borderline painful tingle that shot through his palm and up each individual finger. Remembers feeling useless, like a cornered animal who couldn't even bark in an attempt to scare off an oncoming attack.
And then the sound of his name. The feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder, steadying and firm and everything he'd needed at the time, and nothing else seemed important enough for his brain to keep track of.
Next thing Katsuki knew, he was waking up on some unfamiliar couch with some unfamiliar fur ball curled up on his chest. Yamada humming along to some stupid ass song he knows he's heard Deku mumble under his breath and Kirishima and Sero belt out during one of their study sessions, and Aizawa sipping coffee in the cushioned chair across from him.
Honestly, he'd been expecting to be bombarded with questions (Non of which he would have answered, obviously), but neither adult had spoken aside from asking if he was up for eating anything.
Which he had been, at the time, but after whatever shit show went down while he was zoned the fuck out, he wasn't going to admit that.
So instead he'd been walked back to his dorm room, which smelled a lot cleaner than he remembered it, with barely a word. Ordered on bedrest with the threat of being dragged to recover girls office if he were to be seen up and walking around.
After that he was mainly left alone. Aizawa checked in every few hours, leaving food Katsuki begrudgingly ate and water he slowly sipped at because he couldn't get up and make anything for himself. Snarled and snapped, palms crackling (And hadn't that been a wave of relief, waking up on that fourth day and finding the familiar comforting heat of sparks on his hands) the couple times Yamada poked his head in and tried to offer his own stupid company instead.
And then, just like that, break was over and everyone came back.
Fucking Deku was the first to actually check in with him, obviously hiding more than he let on because he kept looking him up and down like he was trying to find a gushing stab wound. Barely skimming around the topic at hand with light hearted questions like 'How was your break with your parents?' and 'Did you and your mom do anything cool? My mom called a few times but she kept saying she was busy and couldn't talk'.
It'd taken Katsuki basically throwing the guy out to get him to leave him alone.
Kirishima was next, bright smile lighting up his room as he joked about Katsuki beating them back first, and then soon after the other idiots hunted him down and dragged him out for some weird game night they insisted on having to welcome all of their classmates back.
And neither teacher, no matter how often he glared holes into the backs of their heads, has mentioned it since.
It made him angry, furious, nervous, as he jotted down the notes on the board absentmindedly, toe tapping against the ground under his chair impatiently.
Then, once the bell rang for lunch and everyone started to gather their things with a speed that makes Katsuki's head spin, grey eyes flick over to meet his.
"Katsuki?"
Just another thing that's changed. Aizawa doesn't use his last name anymore.
No ones commented on it too heavily aside from asking if they could use his first name too, but it still grates on his nerves and makes him think his mom is about to barge into his room and scold him for scratching something he didn't even touch.
"What the do you want?" He snaps back. Narrows his eyes when the older man's gaze only softens despite the firm frown on his lips.
"I would like to speak with you in my office before you head down to lunch," A breath, "Is that alright?"
A nod. Blindly. Without thought. He internally curses himself for the action a second later because he probably could have said no and avoid whatever made Aizawa think he had to ask to see Katsuki in his office.
He takes it back. Maybe he doesn't want Aizawa to mention what happened while he was sick. Maybe he just wants to drop the whole topic and leave it behind forever.
In the background of his thoughts he can hear a mix of Ashido and Kaminari whispering a slow growing crescendo of 'Ooooooo', with Sero telling them to shut up and get moving because he was hungry.
But it's Kirishima elbowing him as Aizawa turns to gather his own things, that snaps his mind back into place, away from the sudden panic that had sunk into his bones, "Dude, we just got back. What did you do?"
Messed up. Big time.
"I didn't do shit Hard Head," He growls back, a short glare over his shoulder silencing dumb-ass one and two and earning a laugh out of Sero that eases his nerves just a fraction.
"Well-" Ashido shrugs, looping her arm around Kirishima's neck and tugging him away from Katsuki's side (The sudden fear that hits him when he no longer has the other teen as a shield makes him feel lightheaded), "We'll keep anyone from stealing your spot at lunch! Have fun Blasty!"
And then he blinks and the classroom is empty aside from him and Aizawa, who waits patiently by the door with an expression that makes Katsuki's stomach turn.
He's been in Aizawa's office before, with his track record he'd be more surprised if he hasn't. Seen the monotone décor with a few rare splashes of color scattered around that he knows were in fact gifts to the man and not bought for himself.
He falls into the chair across from the desk more than sits down. Because if he is in trouble, he's not going to take it lying down like some weak dog.
But Aizawa doesn't sit in the desk chair so he can hover over him like normal in an attempt to make Katsuki feel bad about whatever mess he created. Instead, he turns the chair next to him, normally meant for parents, in his direction and takes a seat.
"Why the fuck am I here?" Normally he isn't one to rush into a punishment, but he's been waiting on this for three days now and he'd really like to get to the point so he can stop feeling so off.
Aizawa doesn't look surprised in the slightest, sighing softly as his gaze trails across the top of his desk, picking up a file set near the computer and sliding it over to him.
Aside from its obvious importance in whatever this conversation is about, Katsuki spots nothing significant about it. Just your average vanilla folder that a person could by from any office supply store. The only thing he would actually comment on is how thin it is, because if Katsuki couldn't see the bottom corner of a piece of paper that attempted to slip out when Aizawa slid it over, he'd think it was empty.
"You're folder." The man says, like it will answer every question Katsuki has.
"My folder for what?" Is Aizawa expecting him to gather evidence on something? Is his punishment organizing someone's paperwork?
Aizawa rubs a hand against his face, and its only now, being this close to the man, that Katsuki realizes just how tired he looks.
Sure, Aizawa technically always looks tired. Dealing with a bunch of morons like his classmates all day cant be easy, especially with someone who hunts for trouble like Deku being around. But the bags under his eyes seem darker than normal, closer to bruises than just a simple lack of sleep, and Katsuki wonders why no one else has pointed out the hero's obvious exhaustion yet.
Katsuki clenches his jaw.
If the teacher is taking time away from his normal sleep, this has to be more serious than he originally thought.
What did he do while he was sick?
"Katsuki-"
"And what the fuck is up with the name huh? You think just because you let me sleep on your couch for a day that were suddenly best buds?"
There was that emotion again, and Katsuki finally realizes where he recognizes it from.
Because Auntie Inko always gave him the same look whenever he would come over as a kid. When his mom would knock on the Midoriya households door, fists hitting the wood louder than needed, and then would march away with a huff of air and leave him at the green haired woman's side to be taken care of until further notice.
His gaze snaps back to the file.
"What did I say," He whispers, and while he can feel the familiar rage and frustration he's used to clinging to in mist of panic, it's not anger that brings his hand to the desk and flip open the folder. It's fear. It's anxiety. Because his teacher would only be looking at him like that if-
"You're medical files," The man hums softly, carefully, fingers twitching where they rest on the old desk only a few inches away, "I had a friend of Hizashi's look into them after you admitted to me that your mom has been putting you on quirk suppressers whenever you go home." A pause, Katsuki's heart pounds in his ears, "We were both surprised by how little there is. No regular check ups, no dentist appointments. I was hoping I'd at least see something after I spoke with your parents about Kamino but nothing."
His throat suddenly feels too tight to take a proper breath of air as he stares down at a singular photo of himself, 7 years old, and laying back in a hospital bed with a broken arm and leg.
He remembers that. The sound of the vase shattering on their hard wood flooring. The resulting wounds being too much for his parents to just hush to the side and call him out from school until he recovered.
The nurse and her weird questions whenever they left the room. The ones he didn't answer because he was a good kid damnit, and good kids don't answer questions that strangers ask them. Especially not ones about how his parents are treating him at home.
He flips through the few remaining papers quickly (Why were there so few? He's been to Recovery Girls office at least twice this amount since starting school and its barely been a year), mentally recalling and categorizing each time his mom got just a bit too out of control and he was rushed to the hospital. His own quirk being used as an excuse, because everyone was willing to believe he'd set off an explosion and hurt himself and not that his mom-
At the time he'd been happy he rarely went. They were always too touchy, the doctors and nurses that checked in with him too soft. And Deku always freaked out whenever he returned to school with a cast wrapped around one of his limbs, insisting he sign it and carry Katsuki's things to each of their classes no matter how many times he swore him out.
"Katsuki," A pause, like Aizawa was too scared to continue despite the man facing off against death time and time again, "Have you ever felt neglected by one, or both, of your parents?"
Red snaps to grey.
"What...?"
He can't even believe how quiet his own voice sounds, tongue feeling too big for his mouth as he barely even manages the single word out.
"Has your mother," He doubts Aizawa misses the sharp flinch back, until Katsuki's pressed as close to the cushioned backrest of the chair as possible, "Or your father ever failed to take care of you or your needs? Thrown you out? Hit you?"
The distinct need to punch the man springs to the forefront of his mind, hands curling into fists in his lap, but he cant find the energy to lift them, "Why do you care?"
Katsuki's never seen such a heartbreaking look on a hero before.
"I care about all of my students,' Is the reply, and Katsuki's heart skips a beat.
"Liar."
A flash of recognition breaks through the absolute ache on Aizawa's face, like he's recalling something Katsuki isn't keyed in on.
It only pisses him off more.
"Why do you suddenly give a shit?" He snarls, pushes the file away from himself so it drops off the opposite side of the desk, pages hitting the ground with a barely noticeable thump while the single photo of a stupider, more innocent version of himself slowly drifts to the floor, "Why now huh? Because I fucking threw up on your shoes or something? Because you had to baby me for a day because of some strange hero obligation?"
Aizawa's lips part and Katsuki shakes his head. Refuses to hear any flimsy excuses as he stands, showing his chair back so he can keep as much distinct between them as possible despite his teacher being closer to the door, "I don't need your damn pity. I have everything under control and I can handle it myself."
"My father was an alcoholic."
He takes a sharp intake of breath, all of his protective anger suddenly sapped from his bones as he looks back at his teacher.
Aizawa's soft features don't change despite the topic, grey more gentle and comforting than Katsuki thinks he's ever seen them, "He wasn't around often because of it, spending most of his time at bars or out somewhere with the rest of his buddies or who knows what else- honestly, I'm happier not knowing- But the few times he was home with me and my mother were never very good."
"Why are you telling me this?" His voice cracks halfway through the sentence. It doesn't make sense, because Katsuki's Katsuki, and he should be trusted with such information. Something he doubts even most of Aizawa's friends know from how little he prefers to speak about himself.
He isn't worthy of being told such a burden.
"Because you need to know there are people in your corner," Aizawa shrugs his shoulders. His scarf shifts with the movement, "That there is someone out there who understands, to an extent, what you're going through. And tell you that it's ok to seek out help."
But why do you want to be that person? He wants to ask. Wants to demand, What changed that made you suddenly stop looking at me like a problem and more like a child that needs caring for?
"I've gotten in contact with a lawyer who would be happy to take on your case. But I need your confession on what has happened in your home before we can start with that process, seeing as there isn't much of a paper trail to go off of."
"Is that why you didn't talk to me till now?" His eyes sting. His lungs struggle to take in a single breath of air. The floor suddenly far less overwhelming to look at.
"No," He lifts his gaze at the word, "I wanted to give you time to recover. To make sure you didn't feel cornered and thought this was a punishment. Which I can see now I failed at doing."
A shiver runs up his spine, "But I snuck around in the dorms."
"Because you felt unsafe coming to be when you couldn't go home. And I can't apologize enough for that."
Has Katsuki died? There's no way in hell his teacher is apologizing to him right now. There's no way his teacher thinks he is worth an apology.
Not only that, but apologizing for something that wasn't even his fault to begin with. For Katsuki having shitty parents who would rather drug him up and beat him down whenever he's home (Or stand off to the side and do nothing).
"Katsuki?" Aizawa frowns at him, fingers twitching again, and its only at that moment that Katsuki realizes he's crying.
"I-" He cuts himself off, rubs the sleeve of his jacket against his face in a desperate attempt to get rid of the tears, "Fuck off, I-"
"It's ok," The man hushes him softly, a hand settling in his hair, and Katsuki gets a flash of worn leather against his cheek and promises being whispered to him before he looks up again to meet his teacher's eyes, "I'm not going anywhere ok?" He whispers, like its a secret just between the two of them instead of everything Katsuki's ever wanted, "I'm going to stay right here, as long as it takes for you to feel safe."
Safe.
Katsuki thought he forgot the meaning of the word.
He'd felt so unsteady for so long now that its turned into his twisted normal. Dealing with shit at school, villians, kidnappings (The foul smell of blood that refuses to leave his nostrils), then going home and dealing with more shit. Walking around while being treated like some terrifying beast, then going home and getting screamed at that he's useless and a waste of space and should go jump in front of a truck.
He's painfully aware of the new wave of tears running down his cheeks and dripping off his chin.
"I don't trust you," He admits, voice hoarse, "I can't trust you."
Because how many times has an adult promised to take care of him only to throw him back into roaring flames? How many times has his father come around after his mom was finished with him, a touch that was meant to be soothing leaving invisible burns on his spin, and insist that this time it would be different? This time his dad talked with her and she promised to never hit him again ok?
But then a deep voice over takes the mumblings of his dads in his head, and the hand in his hand brings him closer until his forehead hits a shoulder, "Then I guess I'll have to earn that trust and prove to you that all I want is to take care of you. Will you give me that opportunity?"
His face brushes against the worn fabric of the mans scarf and he cant help but raise a trembling hand to twist his fingers into it.
Can he? Is he willing to take such a big leap again? Throw himself out into the open without any way to protect himself if worse comes to worse?
But Aizawa's hand continues to carefully comb through the strands of his hair, his other hanging limp at his side, and he takes a deep breath.
He smells like coffee. And cat fur. And his shampoo is surprisingly sweet.
He nods.