Deku doesn't respond. He couldn't let the other hear his voice waver. So he silently storms to his apartment, no longer caring for the beautiful view.
The boy follows him all the way to the door, not speaking until his card is swiped and the door is opened, "Deku, I... we're going to fight for you. You can push us away but we'll always come back."
Deku turns his head to look at him. A mistake.
His eyes and words were sincere, "You won't fight, so we will. You can keep walking forward, but you can't expect us to just ignore the injustice you face."
"I'm tired of people telling me what I can and can't do," he turns back stepping through the door and letting it fall shut.
He goes straight to his room, ignoring the curious looks he receives from Eri and Yamada, slamming his door behind him.
He doesn't even bother to turn on the light, falling face first into his bed.
He was becoming complacent.
He got too comfortable.
He left himself vulnerable.
And this dream he'd been living starts to crash down around him.
None of this is real. This bed wasn't his. Those books and computer weren't his. The food in the kitchen wasn't his. Nothing was his so it wasn't real.
But no matter how hard he tries he can't convince himself that the events of the afternoon weren't real.
His finger finds his way to his bruised lips, closing his eyes as he remembers their kisses. The safety and warmth they provided.
The look in Bakugos eyes when Deku went down. The gentle hand of Shoto that held his own.
He grabs his pillow, shoving his face into it to shout his frustration.
That was real. It had to be.
He felt safe enough to have sex with them. To be held and to cry. Those feelings were real. But reality never cared about feelings.
Reality was hunger and cold and exhaustion. And it was dirty. 
"Fuck!" He grimaces, his throat beginning to burn again. 
Why would... why would he say that?
After a firm knock on the door, Aizawas low voice states, "Dinners ready."
How could he face them right now? 
"I'm not hungry!"
It's not a lie. He actually felt sick to his stomach.
On the other side of the door, the man's expression quickly changes from surprise to concern. He'd never skipped a meal before. Something was terribly wrong.
"Deku? Is everything okay?"
Before he can process the pillow in his hand, it's flying through the air, thudding softly against the door, "Just leave me alone!"
Even though the boy can't see, Aizawa puts his hands up and backs away. Missing one meal wouldn't undo all the progress he's made, he knows that but he can't help the uneasy feeling in his gut. The worst thing he could do right now is corner him, "Alright, I'm leaving," he tries to keep his voice steady and even, not wanting to insinuate he's upset.
Deku grabs his dinosaur plush, curling into a ball while holding it tight to his chest. 
He can't stop thinking about it. No matter what he tries, counting off pi or going through proofs in his head, he keeps coming back to his boyfriends words.