AN: I did not mean to take so long in updating. I totally meant to get this out before classes started, but I did not, oops. My bad. That being said, classes have started for both Rzen and me so updates will be super sporadic and random, but we make it work.

Anyway, hope ye enjoy the chapter

Inko left Izuku alone for the rest of the day. He never came back out of his room, and while Inko was worried, she let him be. She knew he needed time to process everything that had happened. She was going to let him have time to recuperate and just be alone, she knew he needed it. After she made herself dinner—she had asked if Izuku was hungry, but she hadn't gotten a response—she decided to turn in early, and get some much needed sleep.

However, sleep evaded her; she felt even worse for wear than yesterday. She sighed, dragging a hand down her face as she got out of bed, and pulled herself into the living room where she took a seat on the couch.

Yesterday had been a disaster, but now, she needed to figure out what their next step was.

What was she going to do? Things couldn't continue this way. Izuku wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping enough, and now, she had to question his mental stability. It hurt. It really hurt to think about it, but she didn't have a choice. Izuku needed help, and she couldn't offer it…

She couldn't.

That was a difficult pill to swallow, but it was the truth. Izuku needed professional help, help that she alone couldn't provide. She had searched online for a therapist, and when she had exhausted her options online, she called the doctor that had treated Izuku. He had been kind and helpful, but ultimately, the conversation hadn't been pleasant, and it left her with nothing but a feeling of misery that settled deep in her bones.

There weren't many options that she was left with. She couldn't force Izuku to go to therapy—she couldn't. He had been at the mercy of others for too long for her to take away his control over this. However, if he didn't get some kind of help, and his conditioned worsened… she would have no other choice but to admit him to the hospital. She was caught in between a rock and a hard place. However, she would have to talk to him about it, discuss their options, and go from there.

She rubbed her eyes, still exhausted from her lack of sleep that night.

This wasn't something she should be dwelling on right now, there were other more pressing matters to deal with at the moment.

She did need to have a conversation with Izuku about this, today even, but there was something else she needed to do… something she had dreaded over for the past few days.

Izuku had bandages that went around most of his torso, and while they covered older, scarred over wounds—from what the doctor had told her—the bandages still needed changing, and she would be the one that would have to change them.

She didn't know the damage that lay hidden beneath the white linen cloth, but she feared to see it nonetheless. She didn't know what—if anything—Izuku had to say about it. He didn't like talking about his time spent in captivity, let alone his injuries received there.

Inko sighed heavily at the thought.

Yesterday might have been a disaster, but Inko couldn't help but think that this was only just the beginning. Things were going to get worse, they always did, before they could even start to get better.

Katsuki avoided everyone in the dorms the next day, opting to stay in his room. He knew he had fucked up, he didn't need everyone else yelling at him for it. Shitty Hair had come by his room yesterday when they had first arrived back, trying to talk to him, but Katsuki wasn't having it.

He didn't need anyone telling him that he had screwed up, nor did he need someone to console him and tell him it wasn't his fault, because he knew damn well that it was his fault. He had been an idiot… why couldn't he have just controlled his goddamn quirk?

It was just a small explosion, not even noteworthy—Deku had taken the brunt force of worse before, so why? Why did he react so much worse this time around? He knew the answer, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew why Deku had reacted so harshly, he just didn't want to admit it. Admitting it would mean he would have to face the fact that Deku wasn't alright, that his time spent taken by those villains did change him.

He couldn't do that—Deku was fine… but he wasn't. He wasn't alright, and Katsuki couldn't stand that. Deku was always fine, he always got back up, blow after blow, as if nothing could hurt him, as though it was nothing, but this time… this time he stayed down. He tried to brush it off, but he couldn't. What was Katsuki supposed to make of that?

How could he… He had finally accepted the fact that stupid, crybaby Deku was a rival—he was making his borrowed power his own. Katsuki wouldn't admit it, but he liked their rivalry. Deku had always pushed him to be better, even more so since school had started, but he couldn't do that anymore…

Katsuki hated admitting he was wrong, and he rarely was, but right now, he knew he had been wrong. He had thought that nothing could break Deku, he was simply too stubborn to give in, but after seeing him yesterday, he knew that to be wrong. Everyone had a breaking point, he just hadn't expected to ever see Deku reach his.

It had shocked them all, and nobody, especially Katsuki, had been prepared for the aftermath when Deku finally reached his breaking point.

There was a knock at his door, causing him to startle.

"Go the fuck away, Shitty Hair," he called out, not even bothering to check who was at the door.

The door opened regardless, "Ah, man, hate to break it to ya, but Kirishima left like an hour ago, something about asking a teacher for help or something…"

Katsuki hadn't expected Kaminari to come to his dorm. He had thought—hoped—that nobody would bother him today. He didn't need their comfort—he didn't want it.

"Go away," he growled, turning away on his bed, "or I'll break your goddamn face in."

Either Kaminari hadn't heard him, or he didn't have any self preservation, because he completely ignored Katsuki's threat, and walked into the room.

"Hey man," he started, his voice light and cautious, "I just came to invite you to lunch with me and the squad…" he paused, a pensive look crossing his eyes, "and, like, you haven't left your room since you got back yesterday… You alright?"

"Of course I'm fine," he barked out, but even as it left his mouth, he knew it was lie. He really wasn't fine, he wasn't sure what he was right now.

"Okay, okay," Kaminari relented. "Whatever you say man." He didn't sound convinced, and that angered Katsuki even more.

He turned to face him, sending a glare, eyes glowing red, at Kaminari, "I said I'm fine." His words spit like venom.

"And I never said you weren't," he refuted.

"It was implied," Katsuki scoffed, turning away from Kaminari. He sat up, crossing his arms in an attempt to control his quirk—it wasn't as though he didn't have control over it. More so, it was the fact that he was unreasonably angry right now, and just wanted to be left alone.

"Well, we're gonna go to lunch, just text us if you decide you want to join," Kaminari turned to leave, an awkward air filling the room.

Katsuki took a breath, before he could stop himself he spoke, "That damned nerd isn't supposed to be broken. He's a stubborn ass, he's not supposed to break."

Kaminari stopped. "Wha-what do you mean?" he startled. Katsuki was not a talkative person, but right now the words wouldn't stop.

"Deku," Katsuki bit out, "It's not right. It's wrong." He didn't turn to look at Kaminari—he couldn`t. He was in too much turmoil; he needed to be alone right now.

"Midoriya?" He asked, though it wasn't a question, more of a confirmation, "Look, man," his voice wavered, "what happened to Midoriya was awful, but he's here now. We have him back, and soon enough, he'll be back—"

"No," Katsuki cut him off, "he won't. He's not coming back any time soon… if ever," he silently added the last part. The words sounded bitter coming off his tongue. He didn't understand why. He hated Deku—he couldn't care less what happened to that weakling, but then, it caused him distress to admit that he wasn't okay.

Kaminari cut off his conflicting thought, "How could you say that? Midoriya is tough, and he was fine back at the hospital—"

Katsuki's anger rose again, "He wasn't okay, you fucking idiot. Or are you fucking blind?" he turned to glare at him, not caring about the fear that sparked in Kaminari's eyes, "That bastard is lying. He's lying through his fucking teeth, saying he's fine, saying that he's fucking okay when he's not," his voice broke on the last word.

He could feel the burning sensation behind his eyes, his anger was boiling over now. He was so goddamn frustrated right now, and he needed to let out his frustration—usually that meant fighting, namely picking a fight with Deku, but that just wasn't an option at the moment, and Katsuki wasn't okay with that.

"Bakugo," Kaminari started, caution and hesitance reigning dominant in his voice, "are you—"

"Go away." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really didn't want to deal with people right now. He wasn't in the mood nor the mindset to be around anyone, especially if all they could offer were candy coated words that held no merit. "Just," he got up, not taking his eyes off the ground, "get out." He opened the door, and gestured for Kaminari to leave.

Kaminari stood there for a moment, shocked by the strong reaction Katsuki had given to his inquires, but eventually did reign in his shock enough to silently head over to the door. As he was passing he gave Katsuki a wary glance, "You have friends you can talk to, you know. If you need us, just text us…" he let the offer linger before leaving.

In his frustration, Katsuki slammed his door closed. He knew he was unreasonably angry—he had no reason to be upset like this. There was no rhyme nor reason to his anger—or, maybe there was, but he wasn't going to admit to it.

He sighed again, running a distressed hand through his hair, the entire situation weighing down on him. He wasn't okay with it.

He had never liked Deku, had never thought anything notable of him until recently… but now, it seemed as though everything that idiot had worked for was just… gone, erased like it didn't matter. It upset him. It wasn't right—how could he be the number one hero if his competition had been forced to forfeit?

This wasn't how he wanted to beat Deku. It wasn't meant to end like this. Those damned villains had ruined everything. He couldn't—wouldn't—stand for it.

There had to be something he could do. Here had to be something someone could do. He couldn't let things end here. Not like this.

Toshinori sat in the teachers lounge, going over the case for Izuku. There really wasn't much to go off of. They only had circumstantial evidence, and whatever Naomasa could recount, which left them with a file that was much too small to work with.

He wasn't officially a part of the investigation, seeing as he was retired. He may be a teacher at U.A. but even if that gave him a closer relationship to the students, it wasn't enough to warrant him access to the investigation. If anything, it made this case a conflict of interest for him; he would be biased. Of course, this investigation was on a need to know basis, and the public had no idea about Izuku's kidnapping and subsequent rescue—a fact that Toshinori feared would blow up in their face. He knew it would have been bad publicity, but if it were to get out now, after six almost seven weeks, the backlash would ruin them. Still, he wasn't apart of the investigation, and thus, his intel was limited.

Naomasa had promised to keep him in the loop, and Toshinori was grateful for that, but he needed more. Seeing Izuku, seeing him so distraught and in pain was unbearable. He had to do something.

Something else Naomasa had told him was bugging him right now, though. Naomasa had told him that they still needed Izuku's account on what had happened… and Toshinori wasn't sure if Izuku was in the right mind to give it. He had said that it could wait, but not for much longer. They needed it on the record, meaning they would have to interview Izuku, and get all the details.

He wasn't sure if any of them were ready to hear it.

He was drawn from his musing when the door opened. Quickly, he shut the case files—in hindsight, it probably hadn't been the best idea to bring these files here in such a public place.

He turned to see who had opened the door, thinking it was another teacher trying to get some papers graded over the weekend, and was surprised to see the distraught face of young Kirishima. He was glancing around the room expectantly.

"Are you looking for someone in particular, young Kirishima?" he asked, gaining Kirishima's attention.

His eyes looked frantic for a second before he regained himself, "Oh, All Might," he sheepishly scratched his neck, "I was just… looking for Aizawa, but I guess he's not here…" he sounded upset, and Toshinori worriedly wondered why.

"No, he has the weekend off. I believe he was going to spend the weekend just relaxing at home." Kirishima's expression grew crestfallen; Toshinori was pained to see one of his students so obviously distressed, prompting him to ask, "Why? Was there a question you had?"

Kirishima looked at him, shock predominant on his face, "No, not really just…" he lingered, "Nevermind, it's not really important."

It was a lie, Toshinori could see that clearly by the way Kirishima held himself. He couldn't be sure what was causing Kirishima to act so timid—he was usually so confident and boisterous—but he had an idea. He didn't want to make Kirishima uncomfortable, but he also did want to help him. Even if he was relatively useless in terms of being a hero now, he was still a teacher, and had a duty to help students however he could.

"Are you sure?" he started, his voice conveying more confidence than he felt at the moment. "I'm still learning how to be a proper teacher, but I would like to help you if I can."

He noted the way Kirishima shifted on his feet, a discontentedness rolling through his eyes, before he sighed. There was something very heavy laden in Kirishima, which worried Toshinori to no end.

He was already constantly worried about Izuku, now, it was becoming even more clear that he should be concerned about the other students in class 1-A as well. Izuku wasn't the only one suffering right now.

Kirishima sat down at the table, sitting across from Toshinori. Kirishima wouldn't look him in the eyes though, instead his gaze was downcast.

"Me and a few friends… we went to see Midoriya— Izuku yesterday and…" His voice trailed off, an ominous note hanging in the air.

Even if Toshinori had speculated over what was causing Kirishima such distress, it still hurt to know that he was right in his assumptions. Izuku… he was still coming to grips with things. He was a little less than okay at the moment, and he should have expected for it to be especially hard on the students. They were kids—this wasn't something they should have to deal with, no one should.

"I'm guessing it didn't go as well as planned," he suggested, keeping his voice calm and collected.

"No… it didn't." Kirishima's voice was thicker with emotion now, "Maybe it was a bad idea to have brought Bakugo… I just thought, ya know," he gestured vaguely, looking up at Toshinori. "I didn't think… it was supposed to be a friendly visit… not…"

Oh. This didn't sound good. He had heard of the students plan to visit Izuku, and had thought it would be a good thing. It didn't sound as though things had gone as they had expected however.

He wondered though, why Bakugo would have gone. Weren't he and Izuku not friends? He thought they didn't get along… though maybe that was why he had gone to visit. In the six weeks that Izuku had been gone, he had noticed how much more secluded Bakugo had become. Bakugo had always been easy to anger, but in those six weeks, he had become less volatile, and become more of a recluse. He did his work, trained hard—with even more vigor than usual—and just stayed out of everyone's way.

For the most part it had appeared as though Bakugo had been apathetic towards Izuku's capture. However, maybe that had been a front, a way for him to control his emotions. He and Izuku clearly didn't get along, but they also have a long history with each other—even if they truly did hold great antipathy towards one another—their shared history made things much more complicated. Clearly, this had affected Bakugo more than anyone had given him credit for.

He ventured to ask what, exactly went wrong, "Young Kirishima, what exactly happened?" He feared the answer.

Kirishima looked at him and his eyes were so, so sad as he spoke, "We just wanted to make him feel better, ya know? Cheer him up, but… we did the exact opposite."

Toshinori didn't ask for the details, he needn't know them to understand, "Kirishima, you know it's not your fault, right? Izuku, he's not in a good place right now—"

"I know that," Kirishima defended, "What he went through… I can't even imagine how hard that must have been, and Midoriya, he's super strong, both physically and mentally, and I think," he cut himself off briefly, "I think that it surprised us, to see him like this— to see him so… so unsure of himself. Like, he's the same age as all of us, but now… he's so much different." Kirishima was rambling now, the act reminded Toshinori a bit of Izuku.

"Young Kirishima," he paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "I know this is difficult for you, and it's not something you should have to deal with—"

"But that's just the thing. This," he gestured around, "this kind of thing is the exact type of thing we'll have to get used to. As heroes, this is something that happens… and I don't know if I can… it's just really, really hard. There should have been— we should have been able to do something." His voice faltered at the end, giving way to the concern, and overall unsureness he was no doubt feeling.

Toshinori stopped, because Kirishima was right. This was something that happened—it didn't happen often, but it was a general concern for people who pursue this career. However, even if it was something that went along with the job, it didn't apply to high schoolers like Kirishima… and Izuku. This wasn't something they should have to worry about—but they did. Izuku had been captured, and they were all dealing with the after effects. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right, but it was the cold, hard truth.

"Kirishima, I understand your feelings, I really do, this is hard, and I won't lie, age and experience doesn't make it easier to deal with, but you can't beat yourself up over it." He needed Kirishima to understand this. He was just a kid—a kid who didn't deserve to have to deal with this, "You can't focus on what you could have or should have done. You can't change the past, all you can do is think about what you're going to do, how you're going to make things better. Your friend is hurt right now, and you're hurting as well because of it, but you can't focus on what you didn't do. That's not going to help anyone. Focus on being there for your friend, for helping him get better."

Kirishima looked at him, something akin to thankfulness flitting in his eyes.

Toshinori sighed, before saying his last piece of advice, "Young Kirishima, things may be bad right now, but don't lose hope that things will get better, because they will. And, don't forget," he paused to show the significance this statement would have, "you're a kid too. You have to give yourself a break too. You may be worried about your friend because he's hurt, but that doesn't mean you should disregard your own health. You can't help if you burn yourself out."

Kirishima stared at him for a moment before nodding, something resolute in his eyes. "I… All Might, thanks, I really think I needed that." There was an awkward pause, in which Toshinori didn't know what to say, and Kirishima said nothing. After a beat, Kirishima gave a thankful nod as he got up, and made his way to the door without a word, his expression much more relieved than it had been when he first arrived.

Sighing, Toshinori went back to the files he had been looking through, opening them to look them over again. He stared at them for about five minutes, not taking in anything, before shutting it again, and pushing it aside.

He sighed. Kirishima made him realize that in his concern over Izuku's health, he'd neglected to take into account that the rest of the class had been affected by this as well. They needed support too, just like Izuku—they just didn't need it in the same way Izuku needed it.

He would have to bring this concern up with Nedzu, see if there was anything they could do. It wasn't fair to expect these kids—who were only fifteen—to be able to take this kind of blow in stride. They were all struggling and needed help, and as a hero, retired or not, it was his job to help them.

Izuku wasn't okay, that much he knew. He thought he could handle it, he really did, but… he couldn't. He couldn't keep it together, no matter how hard he tried to just act… normal, it all fell apart when he heard that explosion.

Loud sounds only ever meant pain; always, every time he heard a sudden loud noise, it was always followed by pain. He knew he was safe, that he wouldn't be hurt anymore, but that sound… it had been so similar to… he had thought he was back there. All his rationality had left him, and he was back in that place.

He hated this, he absolutely hated this. His inability to keep it together had ruined everything. Everything was crumbling around him. His sanity was in shambles and… he was tired of fighting it.

He was so, so tired.

Was it even worth it to try and piece back his life? He knew there were people still waiting for him, willing to support him, but how long until they realized that this was a lost cause? He was a lost cause..

He had screwed everything up with his friends—Todoroki had to hate him now. Now that he had admitted to being afraid of him… Todoroki probably thought he was weak and pathetic. He sure felt pathetic.

Izuku knew this couldn't continue, this tightrope he was walking was bound to break soon. Hell, it was already fraying at the ends. Soon enough, they would give up… they would realize that he wasn't worth all this trouble, that he wasn't going to get better, that he was too lost within his own mind to recover. It had taken him forever to come back to reality this time… it was different from the other times.

The other times he could usually bring himself back, but this time, he was gone. He had been back there, and he could feel it: the pain, the chillness that made its home in his bones, the questions that he didn't know the answers to—or worse, the questions he did know the answers to—the agony, the hunger, the isolation from everything, even his own senses… everything had come back full force. He had been back. His friends had vanished, their comforting, albeit a little awkward, presence had been replaced by the her cold, threatening one.

It had been too real; he couldn't bring himself out of it, he had been trapped there… again, but this time it had been his mind that had kept him prisoner the entire time. He had been held prisoner by his own mind, and that thought scared him. It scared him a lot.

How was he supposed to be a hero if he jumped at every unexpected noise? If he was held captive by his own mind, and had to be coaxed out of it by his mom?

Izuku knew he needed more than what his mom could offer—he loved her, and he knew this was tough on her, he really did, which was why he felt so guilty about his current condition, but this wasn't working. Her constant presence helped, it helped a lot, but he needed more. He didn't know what he needed exactly, but he needed more than what she was able to give.

That knowledge killed him. His mom had always been able to quell his fears, for her to suddenly just… not be enough, it scared him. If she couldn't help him, then maybe he really was a lost cause. Maybe they were trying to fix something that was irreparable.

Maybe he would have been better off if he had…

His thoughts trailed back, and he forcibly stopped them. He wasn't going to think about that—he was never going to think about that. He couldn't—he wouldn't.

He shifted on his bed, not quite ready to leave its comfort, but still needing to change his position. He could hear footsteps from outside his door. It had to be his mom, she had been hovering over his room since yesterday—he guessed it was since yesterday at least. He knew she was worried about him, but he didn't want to talk about it, he couldn't. He just… he wanted to be left alone.

Still, it wasn't fair of him to keep her worried over him. She didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve any of this.

There was a knock at his door, and while he had been expecting it, he still tensed at the sound.

"Izuku? Are you up?" He heard the timid voice of his mom calling out to him.

Despite not wanting to talk, he responded, albeit meekly, "Yeah?"

He could hear the door open; he turned away from her. "Oh, Izuku," he hated the pity in her voice. He didn't need pity—he didn't want it. He remained quiet as she walked up towards him. He didn't have anything to say.

He was just… tired.

He felt the bed cave in under his mom's weight, and he tried to move away from her even more. Even if he couldn't see, he knew he must look pathetic right now.

"Are you feeling any better, honey?" Her voice was soothing, comforting.

He still didn't say anything. He couldn't. He felt her put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles. It was comforting, but he still couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Izuku," she continued, taking his silence as a cue to continue, "about yesterday…"

His breath stilled. He knew they would have to talk about this—he knew this was coming, but he wasn't ready for it. He tried to make himself as small as possible, wilting in on himself.

"Izuku," the sorrow was etched so deeply into her tone that he thought it might never leave, "I know things are hard. I know you're struggling, but I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

He knew that. He knew he was struggling, but he couldn't tell her why. He wanted to, he really did—she was his mom, and he could tell her anything—but this… this wasn't something she needed to know. The things they'd done… the things he'd done to survive… the pain he endured, it wasn't something he could share with her; it wasn't something he was able to tell, he just couldn't.

She sighed at his silence, and he felt guilty. Why was this so hard for him? Why couldn't he just tell her he needed more time? That he couldn't be strong right now?

"If you won't talk to me, will you talk to someone else? A professional?" He hated how resigned her voice sounded.

At this, he did respond, "I-I can't," he choked out. In a painstakingly slow gesture, he sat up.

"Honey," her voice was pained, "you can't continue like this… you know that. It's not healthy, and I won't allow it."

He gulped. He knew this was an inevitability. He couldn't continue like this—he would drive himself insane, but the alternative—talking about it—wasn't ideal either. How could he talk to a stranger about things he couldn't even admit to himself? "I-I know, I just," he took a shuddering breath, "I can't."

His mom waited a moment before speaking. When she did, her voice was calm, betraying the anxiety that Izuku knew lay just beneath her sin, "Izuku, I can't do nothing. You need help, help that I can't provide." She took a controlling breath. "You have to talk to someone."

"I know," he broke out, his voice no more than a whisper. "I know that. I know, but… I just…" he couldn't finish his sentence, frustrated with his own ineptness.

She brought him into a hug, it was sideways, and crushed him against her shoulder, but it was comforting nonetheless.

"I know, honey, I know, but can you…" she took a breath, "Can you try? For me?"

His eyes went wide at that. He didn't want to, he really didn't… but, he had promised himself he would do better hadn't he? But he was actively hiding from the things that could help him… He could try couldn't he. He could give it a shot… it couldn't get worse. Besides… he had been making life so difficult for his mom, it wasn't fair. She didn't deserve that. He couldn't do that to her, so… he still really didn't want to. He really, really didn't want to, but if it was for his mom… then… he could try.

He nodded silently, not able to voice his answer.

He felt her tighten her grip around him, "Thank you, Izuku," relief flooded her voice. "I know this is difficult for you, you don't like having to rely on people, but it's not always a bad thing to have to rely on people. Especially when all those people want to do is help you."

"I…" He didn't know how to respond to that—he knew it was true, that he would only get better if he allowed himself to get the help he needed, but knowing something and acting on it were different things. It was easy to say something like that, it was something else entirely to act on it.

They stayed like that for a while, neither one saying anything, until eventually his mom did move.

"She shifted from her position, jarring Izuku, who had fallen into a light sleep against her, "Izuku, I think it's time we both got up and made something to eat."

He yawned, he was still tired, but much more relaxed now that he had been in the comfort of his mom for a while—maybe cooping himself in his room to deal with his issues alone hadn't been the best idea.

"I'm not—"

"You're not hungry, I know, but Izuku… you need to eat." Her voice was firm, and he knew she wouldn't back down this time.

"I… okay," he wasn't hungry, but maybe he could try to eat something… He needed to eat, he knew that, food was just… not something he craved nowadays. He had his reasons… reasons he would rather not think about, but it wasn't like he could just forgo eating for the rest of his life. The sooner he was able to eat food easily again the better.

They both got up, Izuku following his mom's lead, and they made their way to the living room.

Izuku tensed when they entered the living room, even if he couldn't see anything, this room brought him back to yesterday, when his friends had been here… and then there had been that sound… it had been so similar to—

"Izuku?" His mom's voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh… sorry, I just kinda spaced out I guess," he said very unconvincingly

His mom didn't make any verbal cue, but he could guess that she was wearing a sad expression on her face, the kind she used to wear when he was a kid and would come home with bruises, saying he tripped or fell on the way home.

Instead, she told him to wait in the living room—he could find his way to the couch easy enough now—until she finished making food. She didn't ask him for any suggestions, probably because she knew he wouldn't have any. Eventually, he did hear her come back into the living room.

"I made smoothies," she started as she gave him a glass, he held it, unsure of himself, "I didn't have much to work with, but I hope it's something you can handle."

He nodded wordlessly. A smoothie… he hadn't really thought of that… maybe something like that… it might be fine. He took a sip. It wasn't bad. It was… nice? He took another sip, keeping in mind to not take too big of a drink at once.

"How is it?" his mom's voice was timid and unsure. He immediately felt bad; he knew she was running out of options for him.

"I… it's not bad, I think I can manage." He could feel the tension leave her as he spoke.

She sat down next to him. They drank their smoothies in silence.

It was nice. Things were going good, and Izuku thought today was going to be a much better day than yesterday had been.

"Izuku," he heard her set her cup down on the table, and he turned to face her general direction, unsure what this seriousness was for, "this may not be the best time… but there is something else we need to do today."

He stop drinking, and gave her a wary expression—he didn't like this. What could they possibly need to do now?

"You've been home for a few days now… and we need to change your bandages."

Izuku stopped. No. He shook his head, without saying anything. He didn't—she couldn't… he couldn't let her see the scars. She would see—she would know what they had done to him, the damage they caused, and he couldn't let her know that.

He wanted to protect her from that if at all possible… but he knew, by her tone, that she wasn't going to let him run away from this. Not this time. He wasn't ready… he wouldn't ever be, but it didn't look like he had a choice in the matter.

AN: I did not mean to end it like that, it just sorta... happened... my bad?

until next time,

Vera~