Glass

by Latenightsgunfights

Midoriya was starving. Eventually, he stopped eating entirely. He didn't see the need anymore. Some overheard words send Midoriya spiralling. (Written 19/09/21) (Contains content relating to eating disorders)

Midoriya was a thief .

"I kinda wish Aizawa would give me more pointers during training, you know?"

His group was sitting at a lunch table with their backs to him, Uraraka wedged between Todoroki and Iida. Muscled arms reached up as she spoke, pulling her hair onto a short ponytail at the base of her neck.

"I just feel like he isn't paying attention! And, before you say it Iida, I know that's not true. It's just-"

Midoriya gripped his lunch tray, hard. They hadn't seen him yet.

"He's so focused on our classmates, you know? With Bakugou always blowing stuff up and Deku's ever evolving," she gestured widely, " self!"

He was hurting them. His friends. Midoriya tried to push the thought away but it mercilessly latched itself to the forefront of his mind. Anxiety building and clawing at his stomach without his consent.

Of course. Of course. How could he be so selfish? His friends were in the same position as him, fighting for that same end goal, and his constant mistakes and clumsy demeanour was quickly morphing from endearing to obstacle.

He was stealing their spotlight. Just like he did with Katsuki.

Don't let it get to you. Don't be stupid. Don't be ridiculous.

Midoriya didn't feel hungry anymore.

Quickly he tipped his food into the trash, deciding that a run might be better than disturbing their conversation with his presence.

If they noticed they didn't say.

Midoriya was heavy.

In every sense of the word, really.

He was a burden on his friends. His teachers. All Might.

He needed to improve. To focus on anything but the way self control seemed to be slipping through his fingers, sending him spiralling in the dark.

Deku was drafting a plan.

A new routine, the details of his time both outside and inside of lessons written down and calculated with an intelligent efficiency. Harder. Stronger. Better. His friends would get the attention they needed because there'd be no more broken bones or unexpected power.

No more uselessness.

A drafted a time table, neatly ruling the lines and coloring it all in. Then, he pinned it to his wall and began picking through the stack of homework he needed to get through.

Knock knock.

It was already dark outside, the sun casting shadows through the window in front of his desk.

"Midoriya?"

Todoroki. Izuku didn't particularly feel like responding. But it seemed only polite in the face of the nuisance he caused.

His eyes didn't leave the paper, though. "Um… yeah?"

Todoroki opened the door, poked his head through the gap. "You missed dinner." Flat, as usual, Midoriya could never quite decipher his tone.

He had? It slipped his mind, honestly, he was way too focused on bigger and better things. "Oh? I'm just not very hungry, heh, I'll get something later, yeah?"

"Did you eat lunch?"

"Yes, I did." No, he didn't.

Todoroki's brows furrowed momentarily. He did that a lot. Had the tendency to treat social interaction with the carefulness of navigating a minefield. "You didn't eat with us."

"I just wanted some fresh air."

"Oh."

Todoroki seemed like he wanted to argue, but had no real reason to. After a second of silence he nodded, sharp, and shut the door, leaving Midoriya to focus on his work.

That night, Midoriya went to bed with a plan.

Midoriya was ready .

He grabbed a cereal bar and a bottle of water on his way out, hunger there butultimately ignorable.

It was three in the morning and, following his plan, he decided to go on a quick run around the block. Blood pumping.

Following the overheard conversation in the cafeteria, Midoriya's mind had slipped to unfavourable places and unfavourable times. In his time at U.A he'd allowed himself to relax, take it easy, because the threat of a Quirkless life was long behind him. He was no longer singled out, no longer viewed as the one who always got in the way .

He'd slipped, sometime between then and now, and had started hogging attention and causing aggravation.

He hadn't realised. He hadn't.

Before he knew it, Midoriya had run around and was, once again, stood heaving at the doors of the first year dorms. One lap didn't seem like enough so he started again. And again.

It was four thirty by the time he came in again, the cereal bar ignored in favor of refilling his water bottle in the dorms kitchen sink.

"You alright, man?"

Spoken softly yet Midoriya still flinched. He turned around and noticed Eijiro Kirishima sitting on the stool at the island in the kitchen, nursing a large cup of hot chocolate or coffee.

Midoriya leaned his back against the sink, one hand holding his bottle and the other tapping nervously at the side. Restless.

"What're you doing up?" he asked instead of answering. A good portion of the class were early risers but none hung about the common room this early.

Kirishima hummed, and only then did Midoriya notice the soft red blanket over his shoulders and the dark smudges under his eyes. "Been having trouble sleepin' lately."

Kirishima was confusing to Midoriya. He had a powerful quirk, one Midoriya had taken great delight in scribbling down and seeing how it ticked. But, unlike his experience with other powerful kids his age, Kirishima was kind, the type to ask you how you were and mean it, and willing to ask questions and listen to what Midoriya suggested. He deserved to be a Hero, would be fucking good at it, too. Midoriya wondered if he'd, somehow, gotten in his way like he had with his friends. Kirishima was too nice to say something about it.

"'Could ask you the same thing?" Kirishima prompted again, voice still soft and gentle and everything Midoriya didn't quite deserve.

Midoriya pondered it for a second.

"Needed to work out… went for a run."

Kirishima smiled, genuinely, Midoriya saw a sharp canine peek from between his lips. "I'd expect nothin' less from you, dude."

They fell into silence. Midoriya couldn't tell if it was truly awkward or if he was just on edge.

"I need to be better, I think," Izuku said after a while, speaking it into the empty air and unsure of why.

Kirishima had started scrolling through his phone at some point. He looked up as if surprised Midoriya was still there.

"Heh, I think everyone could do with some improvement-"

"No! Not like that!"

Midoriya didn't mean to snap. A layer of hardened skin had crawled up Kirishimas' forearms when he winced at the tone. Kirishima was now regarding him like he was some crazed animal, hands up in a peaceful gesture and body forcefully relaxed and nonchalant.

Midoriya didn't want to think about how crazy he looked.

A beat.

"Do I ever bother you?"

Kirishimas' eyebrows twitched at the sudden subject change, but his response was as quick and open and honest as ever. "No."

"Sure?"

"Bro I- Yeah , I'm sure-"

"Do I ever… get in your way?"

Kirishima perked up at that, sitting up and smiling and flexing his biceps. "Dude I'm Unbreakable! I'm the one getting in your way!"

Maybe under different circumstances, in some other timeline, Midoriya would have chuckled, all flustered, and promised that same protection right back. But now he couldn't even bring himself to smile.

"Did… something happen?"

Kirishimas' phone flashed a notification, and he picked it up and opened his texts before moving it from Midoriya's eyeline.

Midoriya shook his head, looking at the clock past Kirishima's shoulders and noting it was ten to five. He could afford an extra run.

Kirishima tried to coax him back with a hot chocolate and he pretended not to hear him.

Midoriya was weak .

Two weeks, Midoriya's plan seemed to be working well. He had trained harder, pushed himself, tried his best to stay out of everyone's way.

"You've been quiet lately," Ochako had said in the moment before class had started. They were sitting in the training room, talking amongst themselves before Aizawa came to give them instructions. Midoriya sat, criss cross, scribbling in his notebook while Uraraka leaned her chest on his back and her chin on his shoulder.

"Oh?" Midoriya murmured, trying not to shiver when one of her hands idly played with the curls at the base of his neck. Her perfume smelled... pink.

"Yeah." She pulled him tighter, circling her other arm around his waist and squeezing, one of her hands gently ghosting over his stomach. Midoriya allowed a moment of weakness, allowed his eyes to roll when she scratched his scalp just so. "What's going on in your head, eh?"

And suddenly Izuku felt guilty. Because Ochako was so kind. She didn't deserve to live in a world determined to fuck up her life. Everyones' lives.

"'m alright," he said eventually, "jus' tired."

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern and Midoriya hated that. Didn't want that. Didn't want to worry her more than strictly necessary. "I-it's okay, though!"

An awful save, even by his standards.

Ochako hugged him tighter.

Bakugou seemed to be in a weird mood today because he kept glancing at Midoriya with an expression dangerously close to concern.

It put Midoriya on edge.

It was a paired task. A simple Hero vs Villain scenario where each student picked a role and fought a few rounds, the end goal to immobilise the enemy in the least destructive way possible.

Midoriya had started skipping breakfast in favor of a morning run, and sometimes lunch when he didn't have the energy to cope with social interaction. The lack of sustenance didn't particularly hinder his ability to work. He felt light and ready and fresh, like the emptiness was helping.

One For All requires energy, right? So maybe if I have less I'll have better control over myself. More control means less problems. Izuku had scrawled in the margins of his maths textbook sometime when his head felt too floaty to focus. The thought entered his head when he'd slipped too many meals to logically excuse.

Maybe he felt a bit shaky, on occasion. But he couldn't pinpoint that down to one particular factor, didn't care to note down and refresh his routine, it worked because it worked.

Midoriya and Bakugou.

Ah, yes. He'd gotten distracted, allowed his mind to stumble and wander to places further than here. Gently untangling himself from Urarakas arms, he went to stretch.

"You gonna fucking lose this time, dork?" Bakugou grumbled as came to stand next to him. Are you doing alright?

"Would make you feel better, eh? Stroke your ego?" Midoriya teased back and it almost felt natural. But, still, a nagging voice in the back of his head, a tone familiar and long forgotten, told him he was overstepping a boundary.

Midoriya struck first, took a hefty bit of pleasure in doing so, activating One For All and jumping up, swinging his right leg in line with Bakugou's face.

But Bakugou grabbed his ankle hard, swinging him up and over his shoulder before slamming down, Deku's face colliding hard with the training mat. He saw stars.

Midoriya was just orienting himself (he wasn't weak) pushing up on his palms and shaking his head, tasting blood on his teeth.

"Bakugou!"

Midoriya turned his head but not fully, seeing the source of the voice in his peripherals, red hair and spikes.

Kirishima had moved from his own partner, instead touching Bakugous' shoulder, leaning in close to his ear and whispering something Izuku couldn't quite hear. Izuku shifted, twitched his head, he'd been on the floor too long.

"I told you t'go easy on him, man. I think he's cracking under the pressure."

Bakugou pulled his shoulder away, spitting something scathing, but the damage had been done.

I'm weak. Everyone can see it.

It was as if his mind wasn't truly his own. He pushed his body up, spun around, stomped the few feet between them, closing the gap. Then, without thought or reason, he punched Kirishima square in the jaw. Was going to do it again, too, and again-

Aizawas binding cloth was tight.

Midoriya broke his hand.

Midoriya was useless.

They were young, Bakugou had slammed him into the ground again. Midoriya's left front tooth had cracked, his gums dripping blood down his lips and over his teeth.

"You're useless, Deku! You'll never amount to anything."

Maybe he was right, after all. It wasn't bullying, or Quirklessness. It was him .

"You can't keep aggravating Bakugou and his friends, Midoriya," his teacher had said when he'd come to the nurse crying. Blood on his mouth and neck and collar. "Why do you always pick fights?"

Midoriya tried to think back to his childish thought process because there must have been something. Maybe it was because his mother worked long hours, or the fact that his dad wasn't around. Maybe touch starvation, or a true, deep, jealousy of every other child and their amazing Quirks. An evil amount of jealousy that made him do evil things.

He was the problem. No denying. It's taken years but he'd finally felt solid on that conclusion, the one clear lead.

There's something wrong with me.

Aizawa hadn't yelled, never did, but he'd spoken in this firm and deadly tone as he'd scolded him. Saying that random acts of violence were hardly heroic and that he expected better.

Midoriya expected better, too.

Midoriya stared at the white wall of the infirmary, unseeing.

"Oh look. Your knuckles are all busted. Shame . Heard you punched that Kirishima kid. Insufferable, he is. You know I tried flirting with him once and he growled at me. Growled. Like some kind of rabid dog-"

Monoma was here, for some reason, talking.

"Moving on, then. You're clearly in la-la land and I, for one, don't fancy wasting precious oxygen on idiots who punch rocks." Monoma snapped some latex gloves on, "Recovery Girl is training me to use her Quirk. So you're getting a big ol' kiss and some apple juice and I'll send you on your merry way. Lucky you. "

Despite his sarcastic tone, Monoma was quick and professional as he cleaned the wound on his knuckles. Kirishima's hardening had bit into the skin, bringing blood to the surface and breaking three fingers.

Midoriya looked down at his hands, dejected. In a way, he was glad it wasn't Recovery Girl. He couldn't handle another person being concerned about him.

Time waster.

In his distracted state, he barely felt the injury, only flinching when Monoma bent down, quick and professional, and kissed him on the cheek.

"There we go! All done! You're free to go now. Just get a grip and you should be fine. Certified medical science, that- Oh shit-"

Midoriya suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of exhaustion. His body tipped forward, without his consent, thumping his forehead on Monomas' shoulder when the other boy caught him.

"You shouldn't be this wiped out. No, no, fuck."

Monoma maneuvered him onto his back onto the bed, pulling his legs up on a pillow and lowering the headrest. He felt his collar being loosened, his shirt undone, but merely shifted and stared off into nothing, allowing himself to be maneuvered like the weakling he was.

"Feeling better?" Monoma said after thirty seconds or so, shitting him up again and shoving some apple juice in his hands. Midoriya nodded, and he guessed that Monoma took that as consent to return, albeit shakily, to his gentle teasing. "Good. You look all pale and gross. Have you been eating enough-"

"Yes," Izuku said too quickly. Monoma looked disbelieving.

" Sure , if you say so. I'm going to let Recovery Girl know that you fainted, though."

"Please don't!"

Midoriya reached forward, unthinking, tossing his juice away and staring into Monomas eyes. If they knew he'd fainted they'd find him weak. Aizawa was already angry and Midoriya had already taken up more than enough of his classmates' time. He had it under control.

He didn't know when his predicament became something he needed to control.

A silence.

"You're hurting me."

Monomas voice was completely flat. Low and emotionless and deadly. As if his very livelihood had been insulted.

Midoriya looked down at his hand, grip closed unintentionally tight around Monomas muscular forearm, a green glow buzzing about the fingers.

He gulped and let go quickly, cradling his hand to his chest as if it betrayed him.

Monoma leaned into his space, not a threat, more so a reminder that he was a Hero too, tone biting in a way Bakugou didn't and Kirishima wouldn't.

"Get. A. Grip."

Midoriya was disgusting.

Kirishima had made something tasty. A meal Midoriya had never tried before. Claimed it was a peace offering. An apology. As if he didn't have a purpling bruise on his jaw.

Midoriya should be the one apologising. He'd punched him in the face .

The class was trying not to look at him as they gathered about the eating area, as if he was Mentos dipped in Coke and they were waiting for the inevitable explosion. Midoriya was a kiddie science fair volcano, built from scrap the night before and waiting on an ultimate failure. But those self deprecating thoughts were ones he usually kept quiet. Now everyone knew and it made him feel exposed, naked.

It made Midoriya squirm.

He'd choked down as much as he could bare before trudging up the stairs to his room, full and heavy.

Slipping into the shower, he felt detached, like he was watching himself from far away. He scrubbed his arms, feeling bile in his mouth at the scars, a reminder of his stupidity. They were raised and pink and rigid, moving with the muscle of his bicep. Ugly.

Midoriya had broken his arms again. All Mights' lips had twitched, jaw locking, as if Izuku was some puzzle, missing a piece. His eyes had flashed this brief look of something, Midoriya couldn't read it then. He'd brushed it off as concern, something any teacher would feel for a student, not bothering to think about it any more because All Might was pulling his head to his chest and telling him how glad he was that Izuku was safe. He'd sucked it in, greedy, gripping the hero like a drowning man to a log, desperate for affection and care and ignoring any negatives that could possibly exist in that moment because to him, in all his naivety, there was none.

Now he knew. All Might was disappointed. Disappointed in him for not having a grip on One For All. For being a failure.

There was blood on the sponge. Midoriya winced at the sudden pain. He'd scrubbed his skin too hard.

Laying on his back in bed, after his shower, Midoriya stared up at the ceiling. Thoughts of thrown punches and harsh words kicked his brain into submission, and he could only watch detached as he fought in an empty corner.

You don't deserve this.

The intrusive thought hit him like a sneak attack, tackling him from the back of his mind. Midoriya tried to push it away.

Maybe he needed to speak to Uraraka, or Todoroki or All Might. Maybe they'd help him. He'd show them his theory. My power is strong. I need to train harder to control it. I need to weaken it, somehow, until I'm ready. And then I'd be less troublesome, bothersome, and my friends will get the help they need-

You're an awful friend. You don't deserve this.

Midoriya placed a hand on his stomach.

Maybe it would be better if my friends stayed away, for now. I'm clearly violent. I hit Kirishima. My power could hurt them. Uraraka called it 'ever evolving'. And that makes it unpredictable.

The thought of hurting his friends lingered. Every thought somehow warped into a situation where they died. Where he hurt them.

You don't deserve friends. Useless.

Midoriya got up, quickly but quietly, throwing the covers back and stepping out to the hallway and into the communal toilets.

Midoriya locked the stall.

Dropped to his knees.

Two fingers down his throat.

Vomit came up, thick and freeing, covering his hand in the chunks. Midoriya removed his fingers from his mouth and gripped the toilet bowl with both hands, the first wave making the others come easier. His stomach cramped, esophagus burning.

And then nothing.

His stomach was empty. He spat the foul taste from his mouth and rolled his shoulders, standing up robotically and forcing his hands under the hot tap. Empty and light and ready.

Midoriya was distracted.

He was chewing gum. Bite down, release. And when he got bored he'd pull the gum through the unnatural gap in his front teeth with his forefinger and thumb. His friends had forced him to sit with them today, to watch a movie in the common room, as if they didn't realise he was an imminent threat.

Todoroki and Uraraka had gone to fetch drinks from the kitchen, leaving Izuku curled up on the couch corner and Iida waiting patiently on the other end.

Iida pulled his glasses off to clean them with the bottom of his sweater. But they weren't dirty, not even smudged, so Midoriya guessed he just needed an excuse to break eye contact.

Midoriya didn't feel the need to question, knew Iida wouldn't appreciate it either, so he chewed and chewed and allowed his mind to unfocus and float away. Snuggling into the soft pink blanket Ochako had draped over him before she left. It's been cold these days.

"I admit I'm concerned about you," Iida said, breaking the silence. Izuku lazily turned his gaze to him, eyelids heavy and drooping.

Izuku shifted. "There's no need to be." I don't deserve it.

Iida shook his head. "I look at you, and it's as if your thoughts have run far away. Maybe too far. Off somewhere and not here and that worries me."

Midoriya snuggled back under the blanket, looking away from the other boy and allowing his eyes to close. There was no use in anger, Iida had stared rage in the face and grinned. What he wanted right now was to be a Hero.

"Hmm…" Izuku smiled to himself, "they'll never run too far, Iida, because you're fast and you'll catch 'em for me, eh ? You'll catch 'em all."

A beat.

"Izuku I'm a runner, not a damn Pokémon trainer."

Izuku barked out a laugh, unsure if he was more shocked at the joke in the serious conversation or the fact that Tenya Iida said it. Iida seemed a little shocked at himself, as well, and let out a laugh along with Midoriya.

"Seriously, though," Iida said, cheeks tinted pink. "If you need me you can-"

"I know, Tenya."

When the others had come back Midoriya had shifted, now sleeping against Iidas side. The bad thoughts were satisfied, for now.

Midoriya was warped.

He is staring into a mirror. He can't blink, not even a little bit, because he's terrified that, in the second it takes to close his eyes, he'll change. No more green curls and freckled cheeks.

But Midoriya's eyes are burning. Sharp pin pricks. He wonders if this is how Eraserhead feels. His eyelids twitch.

Something is behind him, hands circling his stomach and pressing down into the skin marred with scars that weren't the result of Kacchan or training. Maybe they're the hands of the voice in his head. Nasty and scratching.

He flinches, looks away from his reflection. And then quickly catches himself and looks up. Suddenly he's the Sludge villain, from before U.A. And then he's Dabi, in all his scarred up glory, and then Toga and then-

Eventually it circles back, landing on a familiar figure, and something in Izuku's mind tells him that this is the worst Villain of all.

Izuku stares at himself. But it's not him, couldn't be. Where were the chubby cheeks? Now all he saw was hollow shadows. Where were the bright eyes? Now all he saw was the purpling smudges underneath them. Where were the green curls? They were stringy and dull, falling out in clumps.

"You're killing a Hero." The voice said, and the hands scratched lines on his stomach.

"Who?" All Might? Eraserhead? Endeavor?

"You."

Midoriya woke up screaming.

He had nightmares. Everyone did. But recently he'd been seeing that same dream, screaming his throat dry, and Tokoyami had been leaving sleeping pills and water at his door. No words needed.

He was being bothersome. Again.

Midoriya laughed at the irony, he'd come full circle after all. Desperately trying to avoid attention and give others a break from his nonsense and yet waking up the entire corridor with terrified shouts. One For All would activate and his sheets would soak through with sweat, and then he'd run to the bathroom to chuck up everything he'd eaten that day, if anything, because the muscle cramps and shaking limbs were a small price to pay for the light floaty feeling.

Midoriya looked in the mirror and he saw someone who needed great improvement. Someone who inconvenienced anyone and everyone and needed to stop.

Midoriya was starving.

Eventually, he stopped eating entirely.

He didn't see the point anymore.

Midoriya was trembling.

"You've lost weight, hun," Ashido said. She was brushing the curls back into a short ponytail for him. His hair had grown out long these past few months, just barely brushing his shoulders and jaw, and his face itched because he hadn't cared to shave the thin patches of hair growth on his chin and cheeks.

Izuku didn't immediately reply, didn't know how, just clamped his eyes shut tight when she brushed a section away from his neck and gasped at the thinning he knew was there and chose to ignore.

Thankfully, she didn't mention it either. She dribbled some water from her bottle over her palms and ran it along his scalp and ends, telling him idly that curls should be brushed when wet, before gathering everything into a leopard print scrunchie and scrunching stray ringlets with her hands. Midoriya wondered what he did to deserve friends like this.

"I don't think so," Midoriya replied carefully.

She finished his hair and squeezed his shoulders before placing her hands on her hips. Her muscles flexed and Midoriya felt a gentle flush at her scolding expression and sweet endearments. "Uh huh! Your pants are all baggy! That shit went out of style, like, ten years ago, babe." She showed him all ten fingers, as if to stress how awfully long ago that was.

"Well maybe I'm bringing it back-" Midoriya tried to joke as he stood up, to gain some sense of normality, but was overwhelmed by a dizzy spell that had him falling.

Mina caught him, much to his humiliation. Izukus' next coherent thought was: I should stop collapsing onto people, huh.

"Are you ok? Do you need me to get Mr Aizawa?"

"No, no I just… stood up too fast." Midoriya didn't want to snap. Not at Mina. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his (noticeably baggy) pants to hide their trembling.

She was more believing than he deserved. "OK hun, just take it easy, yeah? Even Heroes need to chill."

Midoriya nodded and she skipped off, running and jumping onto Kirishimas' back and giggling when he pulled her to his chest and spun her around. Midoriya smiled because they were happy.

It was a training session, one of many. Midoriya enjoyed them but they tested his nerves. So much destruction with the people he cared about so close.

Midoriya felt tired, honestly, like the metal in his shoes weighed ten tonnes and he was hauling his body up a mountain. But he needed to focus, not float. Because if he floated then he risked his friends. They wouldn't get the help they needed, or worse they'd be in danger, and he couldn't have that.

Aizawa came in soon enough, reading out instructions in his usual firm monotone. Five teams of four. The team would then be split: a Hero, a Villain and two captives. The Villain and captives would be situated at the top of a fragile building, and the Hero's job was to save and detain with as little destruction as possible.

Sero, Midoriya, Yaoyorozu, Uraraka. Midoriya, Hero. Yaoyorozu, Villain.

Midoriya opted to scale the side of the building using One For All as a boost. It would allow him access to the top floor window, hopefully giving him the benefit of taking Yaoyorozu by surprise. She was powerful.

Midoriya grabbed a hold of the bottom floor window ledge and pushed up, bounding upwards to the next floor window and repeating that. Halfway up he paused, catching his breath. His heart was galloping, almost painfully, against his ribcage.

Once at the top, he slid through the gap of the open window, surprised at how little he needed to widen the gap to slip through.

There! Sero and Uraraka were sitting back to back, unbound due to the instability of the building. There was a gigantic hole through this floor and several floors below, creating a large, dangerous space between him and his target. Midoriya tried to remember his training, hand moving up to rub at his temple before catching himself. He began to shuffle across a narrow slither of flooring surrounding the perimeter of the room

"Pro Hero Deku. I'm here to get you out of this building." He started carefully, taking his time.

"Doubt that." Yaoyorozu said, effortlessly dropping a human sized net down which Izuku, barely, dodged. He wobbled on the ledge, unable to use One For All to kick off because the impact of landing would send the building crashing. Yaoyorozu was hanging from rope from one of the beams holding the exposed ceiling together, weight perfectly balanced.

She lowered herself on the rope, quickly but carefully, getting into Izukus' space so he was forced to tip toe back to the wider ledge next to the window. When she got there, she threw a punch which he dodged and countered by dropping low and swiping her legs out from under her with his leg. She hit the ground and recovered too quickly, grabbing his ankle and pulling him backwards until his chin hit the ground. Within seconds, she rapidly tilted his chin up with her fingers, checking if he was okay, before falling back into her role. He rolled onto his back and threw both feet at her stomach in a hard kick, using her stunned state as an advantage to get up quickly and-

Too quickly. The past repeated itself. Suddenly, the world was tilting sideways and he was falling, falling , into the gap in the middle of the floor. He heard Yaoyorozu shout, Uraraka scream, Sero scramble to his feet.

For a fleeting second, he wondered what it would be like if he fell all the way. If his head hit the floor and shattered. Would it be peaceful?

Sero ran to the edge, leaned over and gripped on and released his tape, letting it wrap around Dekus' body several times before wrapping it tight around his wrist and pulling.

Midoriya's head jerked, painfully, at the force. He was dazed as Sero slowly reeled him up, Uraraka gripping his forearm to keep it steady under the weight while Yaoyorozu pushed medical supplies from her chest.

When Izuku was finally reeled to the top, Yaoyorozu took charge, pulling his body that last step over the edge and rolling him into the recovery position. Checking his breathing and pulse and instructing Uraraka to support his head and neck.

Midoriya didn't respond. He felt too weak to, tremors now wracking his entire body. Ochako rubbed her thumbs against his temples, still keeping his head still, and only then did he notice he was crying.

He drifted off, briefly, and then Aizawa was there and talking to Momo and then to him. Not angry or scolding, merely resigned, tired, he replaced Ochakos' hands with his own rough ones and spoke gentle words Izuku couldn't quite understand. Izuku lost consciousness.

Midoriya was frightened.

Of the future. Of what would happen now.

"I-I didn't mean to hurt his neck, Sir. I-"

"Your quick reaction time saved his life, Sero. Now go and rest."

"I….yes Sensei."

Footsteps.

"You too, Uraraka."

"I knew something was up. So did Kirishima and Bakugou and Iida and everyone. I should have done something sooner."

"There's no use worrying about what could have been. I'll send a class text or email when he's ready for visitors. For now, you need to rest."

She huffed a breath and Izuku heard it hitch, as if she was crying, before her footsteps followed Seros.

Midoriya groaned. Childishly missing the presence.

A hand on his forehead.

"Rest a little longer."

He did.

When Midoriya woke up again his body still felt weak. He tilted his head, letting a whimper escape his sore throat before a straw met his lips and a hand gently angled his head forward.

"Drink."

Midoriya did, chugging the water like he'd never see it again. He drank and drank until the water was pulled away and he cried out at the loss. And then at the disorientating feeling of not quite knowing where he was.

"You're in the Infirmary."

Midoriya moved his eyes to the corner of the room when he heard a creak, seeing Aizawa sit himself in a chair by his bedside.

Midoriya felt too weak to speak, his lips dry and cracking when he wet them with his tongue.

"You collapsed during my lesson. You've been here overnight."

Midoriya tensed at that, distressed at the thought of causing more problems. But Aizawa held his hand in his own larger one and squeezed, grounding.

"Izuku, you haven't been eating properly. I need to know how long."

Izuku whimpered, biting his lip to stop the tears from falling. "I-I have. I have-"

"No you haven't." Factual, like it was the easiest thing in the world to see.

And wasn't that just it. He'd failed. All he'd wanted was to stay out of the way and now eyes were on him. As if he'd graffitied a billboard with the words: 'Hey! Look at this fuck up!' And planted it in the middle of the busiest square in Tokyo.

"... A while."

"Oh, kid ."

Midoriya cried hard, and Aizawa sat there and squeezed his shoulder. Wiped his nose with a tissue when it started bleeding. Pulled him to his chest when he started to shake so bad his body ached.

Useless. Failure.

"You're not a failure. You're not useless."

Midoriya screamed into his chest.

Midoriya was tired.

Truly, deeply.

Uraraka was stroking his hair again, as he lay on her lap. It was the weekend, and they were sitting under a large tree on campus, shaded from the afternoon sun. Uraraka, Todoroki, Iida, Midoriya.

The other two were eating, talking quietly amongst themselves. Midoriya didn't quite fancy anything yet. Recovery was long and difficult and they didn't force it. He instead decided to nap in the comfort of Ochakos' lap.

His eyes must have drifted for a second because Uraraka had gently pulled the blanket further up his shoulders, scratching his scalp in the place he liked most and asked:

"What's going on in your head?"

Izuku took a deep breath, relaxing his body, and told her.

End.