This one has Izuku's perspective in it again! I don't know why it's only been Aizawa's since the prologue, since I normally tend to focus on the actual sick character in my fics, but I just find Aizawa's perspective easier to write. Maybe it's because it makes it easier to have the soft Aizawa. So, idk, this one might not be as good? I still hope you enjoy!
When Izuku woke up, it was to the smell of something cooking. He was still tired, and considered going back to sleep, but the smell was so good, he had to figure out what it was.
When he opened his eyes, he stared at his unfamiliar surroundings, not sure why he wasn't in his dorm. As his eyes glanced around the room, however, his mind flashed back through his memories, reminding him that he was at his teacher's apartment at UA.
Everything that happened was a bit foggy, but it was coming back to him slowly. About how Mr. Aizawa knew he was an orphan, and even that he was quirkless. Izuku's face heated up at his he remembered him breaking down in tears in front of his teacher, and then asking for a hug like a little kid. Mr. Aizawa must think he's so pathetic now.
Before he knew what he was doing, his legs were swung over the side of the couch, and his arms were pushing himself up into a standing position. The world spun around him, and there was a moment where he thought he might fall down, but he managed to stay upright, and the spinning slowed down after a few seconds.
The blanket fell onto the floor, and when he glanced down, he noticed there was a cloth lying on the couch too, but he ignored them in favor of following the smell to it's source.
He entered the kitchen through a doorway across the room, hearing a small clank coming from there. Pausing in the doorway, and gripping the frame hard, he stared in surprise at the sight he met.
Mr. Aizawa was standing at the stove, facing away from Izuku, with an apron on, and stirring a pot of something. Just a second after Izuku stepped into the doorway, still halfway hiding behind it, Mr. Aizawa stopped stirring, and turned around.
"You're awake," Mr. Aizawa said, his voice monotone like usual-well, usual before today—with just a hint of surprise in it. He put down the spoon he was using to stir and walked over to where Izuku was standing, wiping his hands on his apron as he went. The apron was a cream color, with little cats on it, Izuku noticed distractedly.
Izuku's attention had drifted off, taking in his surroundings, so he was shocked back into awareness when he felt a cold hand touching his face. He blinked a few times, sluggishly looking up so he could look at Mr. Aizawa's face with bleary eyes, just standing there as his teacher moved his frigid hand from Izuku's forehead, to the side of his face, and then to his neck. Izuku could feel a shiver building up as that happened, which shook his body harshly as the older man's hand reached the back of his neck, before it was drawn away.
"Your fever's gone down quite a bit, but you're still really warm," Mr. Aizawa said as he walked back over to the stove. "How are you feeling?"
"F-fine," Izuku stuttered out, his voice cracking on just that one word. He tried to clear his throat, but ended up coughing into his elbow before it felt clearer, which resulted in him wincing as the harsh movement sent a jab of pain through his head.
Mr. Aizawa turned and raised an eyebrow at him, before starting to rifle through his cupboards. Just that one action made Izuku flush and look down in shame. Or, it would have made him flush had he not already been flushed from the fever.
His teacher started scooping out some of whatever had been in the pot he was stirring, and putting it into a bowl he had grabbed from the cupboards. "Care to try that again?" He asked, not even looking at Izuku.
"I-" Izuku paused, not sure what to say. He knew his teacher would know if he was lying, but he wasn't sure how much the man wanted to hear. Most people didn't like it when he complained. "I...I feel sick," he said, deciding being honest was his best option.
He knew his teacher appreciated honesty above most things, and if he did get mad at Izuku for complaining, like the greenette anticipated, then at least Izuku would know what he thought of him, and could be out of this space, where everything seemed wrong, and his emotions and reasonings were conflicting.
"My head h-hurts, and I'm hot, and tired, and that smells really good, but I don't think I'm hungry, or that I could keep anything down, and I'm really thirsty too. And everything seems kinda...spinny, if that makes sense?" Izuku clamped his mouth shut, knowing that he was going to get yelled at for muttering, and for complaining.
He took a step back, anticipating something, even if he wasn't quite sure what, but that made the world spin dizzyingly around him. He leaned his head to the side until he felt the side of his face hitting the trim of the door. Closing his eyes, against his better judgement, he let himself enjoy the feeling of the cool wood against his face.
As much as he had shivered before when Mr. Aizawa touched him, what he had just said was true, he was hot now. Somewhere in his foggy mind, he realized that it was just his fever causing his temperature to seem to fluctuate, but all he could think in that moment was that he wanted to not be sick.
Yeah, that would be nice. Or maybe this is all just some fever dream, and Mr. Aizawa isn't actually here, taking care of me, and being nice. As if that would ever happen, you would never be that lucky, Izuku. That makes more sense. Mr. Aizawa would never be taking care of someone as pathetic as me.
His eyes snapped open when he heard a footstep near him. As he jerked away from the wall, and up into a standing position, he looked up at Mr. Aizawa, who was standing a few feet away, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Izuku, you're not pathetic," was the first thing Mr. Aizawa said when they made eye contact. A contact which Izuku quickly broke, glancing down at the floor. Mr. Aizawa must have heard him muttering. He just couldn't keep quiet, could he? So annoying. Sighing, Mr. Aizawa didn't continue, something Izuku was grateful for. "Come on, I made some soup. I want you to have some."
Izuku glanced up, peering through his thick bangs. Mr. Aizawa turned around again, and walked towards the table, sitting down on the farthest seat. He must have taken his apron off at some point, since he wasn't wearing it now. Izuku took a step forward, then slowly followed him. He was a little shaky on his feet, but he made it the whole way, before sagging into the chair.
There was already a bowl filled with what must be the soup, as well as a spoon, laid out for him. Unsure, he looked back up at Mr. Aizawa, who was sitting across from him.
"Go ahead, Midoriya. You need to eat something," the hero said. "Even if you can't keep it down, you need to try. And even just keeping it down for a few minutes will get your body some of the nutrients it needs to get better."
Izuku swallowed, his nose filled with the delicious smell he had woken up to, which wafted up with the steam rising from the bowl. He picked up the spoon, and scooped some up, then lifted it to his mouth.
As it slid down his throat, he closed his eyes in happiness. The warmth of the soup soothed his raw throat, and the flavor was as good as the smell. Taking another spoonful, he proceeded to eat most of the bowl. When there was about a quarter of the soup still left, he let the spoon rest against the edge of the bowl.
Mr. Aizawa had remained silent while he ate, and Izuku found he didn't mind the silence. Now, though, the teacher stood up, his chair sliding back with a squeak, and came around the table. As he reached out to take the bowl, his other hand came up and rested gently on Izuku's shoulders.
Izuku flinched away from the contact, even before he knew what was happening, but he almost regretted it. It hadn't been a voluntary action, and the warmth of the hand was welcome against his aching body, not to mention the warmth inside which the gesture filled him with. It seemed his body was conditioned to flinching away from touch, however. Huh, when did that happen? Well, the bigger question is, when did it not?
"Sorry," Mr. Aizawa said, his voice giving nothing away. He let his hand fall back to his side, as he drew the bowl away from the table. When Izuku tried to look at his face to see if he was mad at the boy for flinching, he found his teacher's face impassive.
"It... it's fine," Izuku said. And it wasn't a lie, truly. He didn't mind Mr. Aizawa touching him, he just wasn't used to it.
Mr. Aizawa set the bowl down in the sink across the kitchen, then came back and sunk into his seat again, after sliding it around so he could sit nearer Izuku. He placed his elbows on the table, and leaned his head against his clasped hands. Izuku was debating if he should say something, when the man spoke.
"It's not fine, Iz-Midoriya. I don't know what made you start flinching away from touch, or sudden sounds or movements, although I do have an idea. But whatever it was, it was wrong. You shouldn't have learned to be so afraid of people. And it's not a good thing, but it's not something you should be sorry for. It's just a way you defend yourself, and that's fine. I'd rather you not feel like you have to always defend yourself against everyone, but I understand. And I'm sorry for touching you without your permission. " At that, Izuku's head snapped up from where he had been staring at his hands, folded in his lap as he twisted his fingers together.
"N-no!" He shouted, then flinched back in fear, since he had just yelled at his teacher. When he saw Mr. Aizawa's face stay passive, he mustered up the courage to speak again. "I...I don't mind when you touch me. I don't like it when o-other people do, but if it's you, it's f-fine; I trust you. I just...can't stop myself from-from flinching." He glanced quickly down at his hands again, running his fingers along the jagged scars of his right hand.
"I trust you." Those words had just slipped out of his mouth. They were so easy to say, and yet he felt as if they were more impactful than anything else that had been said that day. Yes, Mr. Aizawa knew he was quirkless, and that he was an orphan, but now he had also just told his teacher that he trusted him? It's not that it wasn't true, he just didn't want to know how Mr. Aizawa would react to that
Izuku hadn't noticed that he had scrunched his eyes shut, until they opened again when he heard the scrape of the chair on the floor. His eyes were trained on his teacher as the man stood up, walked around the small table, and reached out towards Izuku.
All of his movements were slow and telegraphed, giving Izuku time to stop the motion. The greenette's eyes followed the hero as he moved, watching his hand reaching out, up until the time when it was placed on his head, the weight of it sinking into his curls, and the warmth erupting over his scalp. For some reason, it soothed the headache that had been pulsing in his head at the back of his mind. Izuku's eyes snapped to Mr. Aizawa's face, looking with awe at the emotion he saw there.
Mr. Aizawa's lips were quirked up into the barest of smiles, the rest of his face remained the same, but his eyes...his eyes held so much emotion, Izuku didn't even know what it was. It reminded him of the look All Might would give him sometimes, but it was also different. When it was Mr. Aizawa, it just seemed so much deeper, so much...more.
"I'm glad you trust me, Izuku. And I hope you know that I would never hurt you. I know I said this before, but I don't know if you remember. I care about you, Izuku, as more than just your teacher. And I know it will be hard for you to understand that, with your past, so I'll say it as many times as you need, until you can believe me. Okay?"
Izuku blinked back tears as he nodded, looking back to his lap. He had an idea about what the emotion displayed in Mr. Aizawa's face was now. It was love, for him. Mr. Aizawa loved him, he cared for him. Izuku didn't think he deserved it, but he wanted it. He wanted it so much.
He swallowed thickly, but the tears kept pricking at the corners of his eyes. A sob escaped him, and as if that was the cue, hot tears started rolling down his cheeks, and falling onto his hands. He gasped in a breath, trying to control himself; it wouldn't do to go crying again. It seemed all he had done in the last day was cry in front of Mr. Aizawa.
Just as he thought another tear would fall on his hands, Mr. Aizawa slid his hands to cover Izuku's, not flinching as the salty tears started to dot his own, larger hands. That just made Izuku sob harder. He wanted to close his eyes, to hide from the world, but he couldn't help but stare at his teacher's hands completely covering up his own, hiding the scars, as if they were never there.
The thought flashed through his mind that the scars on his body weren't the only ones he had. He had so many emotional scars, scars that had been there for years, and that no one knew about. Well, Mr. Aizawa might know now. And maybe, his love for Izuku could help cover them up, to hide them from even Izuku, just like his hands hid the physical scars. Maybe.
Izuku didn't know how long he had been crying, hunched over himself, hands folded into Mr. Aizawa's, but everything had seemed to stop in those moments, so he wouldn't be surprised if it was either half a minute, or half an hour.
As the last of his tears dried on his cheeks, cracking when he moved his face, Izuku rubbed at his face one last time, and looked up to his teacher's face. Mr. Aizawa had on an impassive look, no muscle betraying anything, but his eyes still held the same expression as before, except with an added element. This one, Izuku recognized: worry.
He was used to seeing people worrying, and sometimes, especially more recently, they were worried about him. But that was always them being worried when he broke his bones, or rushed headlong into a fight without a plan. This time, though... Izuku didn't know why Mr. Aizawa would be worried about him.
"Are you feeling better, kiddo?" Mr. Aizawa asked, slowly rubbing his thumb along Izuku's hand.
"Y-yeah," Izuku whispered, staring down as his teacher's thumb moved back and forth, just slightly slower than Izuku's own breathing, which was faster than it should be. He slowed his breathing to match the pace Mr. Aizawa was setting, and his breathing was back to normal in a couple minutes.
"Good," Mr. Aizawa said softly. Izuku wasn't sure whether it was in response to what Izuku said, or in response to him slowing his breathing, but he didn't bother to ask. The small bit of praise felt good, something he rarely, if ever, got from this teacher. And with anyone else, he always took praise with a seed of doubt. It was...nice, being able to completely trust everything Mr. Aizawa said.
"What...what time is it?" Izuku asked, licking his dry lips. His head hurt.
Mr. Aizawa took a second to look at his watch, which was hidden under the long sleeves of his dark shirt, before answering. "It's seven thirty. You can take a shower if you want, or you can go straight to bed. Or you can wait a bit, it's up to you."
Izuku opened his mouth a few times, not sure what to say. He was tired, but he didn't want to sleep, but also...he wasn't sure what he should do with the choice. It seemed like such a simple thing, yet it also seemed the most daunting task.
"Wh-why aren't you asking me about how I have a quirk?" He found himself asking instead, voice tapering off at the end as he grew quieter and quieter.
Mr. Aizawa seemed a bit surprised at that, and Izuku almost took back the question, but he set his jaw stubbornly, and just stared at his teacher. He had to know the answer, had to know Mr. Aizawa's motives for being so nice to him. Surely, if he knew that Izuku only had a quirk, only had any import, was because he got All Might's quirk, thus causing the Number One Hero's retirement, then Mr. Aizawa wouldn't be being so nice to him.
After just a moment, Mr. Aizawa's face smoothed out, before transforming to something even softer than it was before. His dark eyes held so much weight to them, so much care, that Izuku couldn't help but to stare into them, sucking in a breath and holding it. He didn't think he deserved this care, this affection, from his teacher, his hero, but he wanted it. Oh, how he wanted it, but was it wrong to? Izuku didn't think he was worthy of it, surely there were other people more deserving of it than him.
"I'm sorry, Izuku," Mr. Aizawa said, "I already know about One for All. I called All Might while you were asleep. I know I should have gone to you about it, but I thought this way was easier for all of us."
Izuku could feel more tears pricking behind his eyes, but he furiously batted them away. There was no way he was going to cry again. "Why are you apologizing?" He asked instead.
"Because, kiddo, you deserve the respect of me talking to you directly about your quirk, rather than going behind your back to get information. But I still think it was for the best." Mr. Aizawa's voice was calm, and smooth, and did more to soothe Izuku's worries than he felt possible.
"Do you...do you hate me now? You must, right, cause I didn't tell you, and I'm responsible for All Might retiring, and I'm not anything without it!" Izuku's eyes grew wide as he talked quickly, unable to stop himself from listing the reasons why the man across from him should hate him.
"No, Izuku, shh," Mr. Aizawa said. "I don't hate you, and I could never hate you. Yes, you should have told me, but you thought you were doing what was best, because that's what All Might told you. He was wrong, but that reflects on him, not on you. And you didn't cause him to retire. He would have given the quirk away anyway, and have had to retire. He made the right choice to give it to you; you deserve it, and you are doing so well with it. But, Izuku, let me tell you this: you are something without it. A quirk doesn't make you who you are, it's just a tool. You are perfect, and you would be even if you didn't have One for All. Alright, Problem Child?"
Izuku nodded shakily, and tried to smile, but it came off strained and watery. He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands, sniffing to try and keep his tears from flowing. He hadn't realized just how much he had needed to hear that, and knowing that Mr. Aizawa was the one who said it, since he was always honest when it came to praise, it meant a lot to Izuku. Even if he wasn't too sure about it, wasn't sure if he quite believed it or not. He would try to believe it, but it was hard when it went against everything he had been told for the last ten, at least, years of his life.
"Kay," he forced out, not looking at his teacher. "Can I...have that shower now?"
Mr. Aizawa huffed out a breath, which could have been a laugh, and could have been a sigh; Izuku wasn't sure. "Yeah, Kiddo, you can take a shower." He stood up from his chair, then pushed it back to it's spot under the table. When Izuku peeked out at him from beneath his bangs, he was standing with his arms loose at his sides, looking away from the greenette.
Izuku stood up too, going slowly so he wouldn't aggravate his headache. He followed Mr. Aizawa out into the living room, and then waited, unsure what to do, while Mr. Aizawa walked over to the door on the other side of the room.
Izuku was expecting him to keep going, and so was surprised when Mr. Aizawa just reached down when he got to the other end of the couch, then started walking back over to Izuku. He was pulling something behind him... Izuku's suitcase. Oh.
"I'm assuming you should have everything you need in here," Mr. Aizawa said, stopping a few feet away from Izuku, still holding the handle of the suitcase. "If not, you can use the soap in the shower, and there are towels and cloths above the sink. Help yourself to whatever you want. Okay?"
Izuku nodded, biting his lip, and reaching for the handle to his bag, which Mr. Aizawa held out to him.
"First door on your left. I'll check to make sure you're alright if you're not out in fifteen minutes. And call me if you need anything, or some help. We don't want you fainting in the shower." Mr. Aizawa gestured across the room to the hallway that Izuku had seen before.
"Yes, sir," Izuku murmured, taking his bag and walking in the direction of the hall. He found the bathroom easily, stepped in, and closed the door. He started digging through his suitcase, expecting to have everything he needed, just like Mr. Aizawa had said, but realized that he hadn't packed a towel, since he normally kept a spare at the orphanage. Technically the orphanage provided towels for all the children in its care, but of course, as with everything else, that didn't apply to Izuku. But it didn't matter. having his own towel was convenient anyway. So, after debating for a second, he decided that, since Mr. Aizawa had offered anyway, it should be okay for him to borrow a towel. Right? He slowly opened the cabinet door and pulled out a fluffy grey towel, biting his lip in uncertainty. He didn't want to be a bother, but it was necessary.
Eleven minutes later, Izuku walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a soft pair of clean pajamas, with his hair still dripping onto the floor. He had tried to dry it well, but his head hurt whenever he rubbed the towel over it, so he had eventually just dabbed his hair with the towel gently. The results were wet, and cold. He had left his suitcase in the bathroom, after brushing his teeth after he got out of the shower. He hoped Mr. Aizawa wouldn't mind.
His bare feet padded hesitantly over to the couch again, where Mr. Aizawa was reading some papers. He put them down and looked up in Izuku's direction as the boy walked over.
"Feeling better?" He asked gently. Why is he being so nice, and kind? I don't deserve it.
"Yes, thank you, Mr. Aizawa." He said quietly, sitting down on the couch on the other end from his teacher.
Mr. Aizawa looked at him, his brows furrowing. "You're supposed to dry your hair, Problem Child. You'll get sicker if you leave it wet like that."
Izuku ducked his head, not sure how to reply. He really didn't want to have to go towel off his head, but he didn't want to seem like he was complaining if he told Mr. Aizawa his head hurt.
It turns out, however, he didn't need to do either. Mr. Aizawa's face softened as he looked at him. He startled in his seat when Mr. Aizawa stood up suddenly, walking into the bathroom. Izuku bit his lip, not sure what the man was doing. When Mr. Aizawa came out a few seconds later, he was holding the dark grey towel that Izuku had found above the sink.
Mr. Aizawa sat back down on the couch where he was before, but this time he was sitting sideways, one leg pulled up onto the cushion, the other dangling off the couch, and back leaning against the armrest. He patted the middle seat in front of him with the hand not holding the towel, and Izuku scooted over, not sure what was happening, but not wanting to say no.
"I'm going to touch you, okay, Midoriya?" Mr. Aizawa asked, his hand hovering just in Izuku's line of vision. The greenette hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He felt Mr. Aizawa's firm hand turning him around so that he was sitting sideways on the couch too, and Izuku pulled his own legs up so that he was sitting cross legged on the cushion.
He was now positioned in front of Mr. Aizawa, his hair cold and still dripping, and unsure what was going to happen. When the first bit of contact came, he flinched away, and it stopped, but didn't move. After that, he relaxed his muscles, and it continued.
He felt something warm and soft being pressed gently into his hair. It moved back along his head, pulling his hair with it, before it was gone. It was back again less than a moment later, which was when Izuku realized what it was: Mr. Aizawa was drying his hair. His teacher was using the towel to softly dry the soaking strands of Izuku's green hair, being so gentle Izuku didn't feel any pain.
Swallowing thickly, Izuku suppressed his sob, and blinked way the tears gathering in his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't.
"Hey, Izuku, what's wrong? Does it still hurt your head?" His teachers calm, deep voice came from behind him. Obviously he wasn't doing as good a job at not crying as he thought. And that one sentence sealed his fate. The sob came out, jarring his shoulders, and a few tears escaped. He shook his head though, not wanting his teacher to think that he was hurting him. A stab of pain shot through his head at the motion, but it was better than talking. He knew that would most likely just result in more tears.
His teacher just hummed, continuing to towel off Izuku's hair with long, gentle strokes. Izuku was tense when he first sat down, but after a few minutes, he slowly started relaxing into the cushions and, embarrassingly, Mr. Aizawa.
After some time of him sitting there, he was practically laying on the hero, back pressed up against the man's chest, head being held up by Mr. Aizawa's hand, which was now working softly through his bangs. Izuku's eyes started drooping closed, exhausted even though he had only been awake for an hour or two.
The towel was pulled away, and he snapped his eyes open, not sure when they had fallen to stay closed. A moment later, he felt something different running through the strands of his hair. It took him a second to process what it was, but after he did, it was unmistakable: it was Mr. Aizawa's hands.
His teacher's long fingers were running through his hair, untangling the occasional knot, and massaging his scalp as he went. The heat and the massage made Izuku relax into him even more. His limbs felt like jelly. His eyes started to slip closed again, against his will, but he was snapped awake when Mr. Aizawa sat up, pushing Izuku with him.
"Mmm," Izuku moaned, slack in his teacher's hold. He wanted to just flop face first on the couch and sleep, and he was about to do that, but Mr. Aizawa had an arm around Izuku's chest, holding him back against the man.
"Let's get you to bed, Izuku," Mr. Aizawa said, standing up and helping Izuku himself get up. The greenette rubbed his eyes, even as his feet stumbled forward, being dragged along by Mr. Aizawa's firm, but gentle, hand on his shoulder.
"Where we goin'?" He asked blearily, noticing they were almost to the hallway. In a second, they had passed the bathroom, and turned into the darkness of the next room down.
Mr. Aizawa flicked a light switch on, and Izuku recognized it as a bedroom. More specifically, it was his teacher's bedroom. Fully awake now, he forced his feet to stop moving forward.
"Are you okay sleeping in my bed, Midoriya?" Mr. Aizawa asked, halting beside Izuku when the boy stopped. "I changed the sheets before, while you were sleeping."
"That's fine...but...what about you?" Izuku mumbled, looking at the queen sized bed situated in the middle of the wall to the right. There was also a dresser up against the left wall, and a desk in the far corner, plus two bedside tables on each end of the bed. All that was on them was a lamp and an alarm clock though. The room was very bare, the sheets were a soft gray, peeking out from under the navy blue comforter.
"I'll sleep on a futon on the floor. I've slept in worse places, it's really not a problem, Kid." Mr. Aizawa answered.
"I can j-just sleep on the c-couch, and you can h-have the...the bed," Izuku whispered, taking a step back. He hated to inconvenience people, and he had already done that with his teacher enough.
"If you sleep on the couch, I'll just sleep on a futon on the living room floor. You're still really sick, I'm not going to leave you alone. Really, Problem Child, it's fine. It's no problem at all."
Izuku hesitated, even as his heart warmed at what Mr. Aizawa said. It had been a long time since someone cared enough about him to be that worried for him, just because he was sick, and to be willing to inconvenience themselves just to make him more comfortable.
He took a hesitant step towards the bed, then another, until he was close enough to get on it. He glanced sideways at Mr. Aizawa, watching the man for a change of expression, before flipping the blankets back, and crawling under.
"Do you need anything, Kiddo?" Mr. Aizawa asked, standing a few feet away from the bed. Izuku shook his head. "Okay, I'll set up my futon then."
Mr. Aizawa walked out of the room, but Izuku could still hear him moving around, and he came back in a few minutes later. He was holding a plastic bucket, which he put down softly on the bedside table closest to Izuku. "Just in case," he grunted, causing Izuku to blush in embarrassment. He couldn't believe he threw up around Mr. Aizawa.
By that time, Izuku had already situated himself in the bed, laying on his side so he could watch as Mr. Aizawa then laid a futon out on the floor, and slid under the light covers himself, after turning off the lights. He must have turned the lights off in the other rooms too, because as soon as he flicked the switch for the light in the bedroom, the whole place was engulfed in darkness.
The hero laid on his back, not looking at Izuku, but his voice could still clearly be heard. "Wake me up if you need anything, okay, Izuku? And I mean anything.
"'Kay," Izuku said, swallowing thickly. It seemed like all he wanted to do today was cry. But this time, it was easier to fight down the tears. He closed his eyes and, listening to the sound of his teacher's breathing, he fell asleep.
So, I think they're both taking this really well. :) Maybe too well...Idk, I'm not good at mental torture, I do better in the physical department...
Sorry for the later posting, but I've been watching the Lego Movie as I edited the last half of this chapter, and...yah, it's distracting. Lol.
So, yah, that was that chapter, we're getting more into the emotional trauma now, which I'm not great at, but I think is definitely necessary in MHA fanfics.
I hope you enjoyed! And thank you so much for all the comments, favorites, followed, just everything! it's super amazing to know that people like my fanfiction. :D Till Next time!