Chapter Text
He’s just a boy. A young child before Izuku’s eyes. His soft blue hair loiters over his face and his skin his crumbling where it lays. He is crying, face buried in his hands. Izuku approaches him and in an attempt to console him, reaches out, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders.
But all that returns is a hysterical scream. No, no not a scream, a cry. Perhaps, a howl.
It shakes Izuku to his core and he looks down at his hands in an attempt to notice what could’ve possibly harmed the young child. But, there was only blood. Dousing Izuku’s hands, trailing up his arms, engulfing his entire being. Shigaraki layed motionless, his body decaying from his hands’ former location. He was gone. But that cry, oh that ungodly howl. It lingered, it seemed to bounce off of every wall of the young man’s mind until it got so loud that it drowned out Izuku’s own cries of terror. He couldn’t make it stop and so it persisted, louder, and louder, and LOUDER , AND LOUDER. UNTIL,
Izuku shoots from his pillow like a bullet from a firearm. The horror of his nightmare still polluting his mind, so much so that he can’t immediately hear the shaking of his breath. But he feels the sweat dripping down his neck and piling on his shirt, the moisture lingering in his blanket, leaving its stench in the air. His skin burns and his throat is dry. Before he has a moment to process his own reality, Bakugo comes rushing in almost taking the door out with his entrance.
“WHAT’S THE MATTER?! ARE YOU OKAY?!”
Izuku looks around the dark room taking in his surroundings. What felt like 10 million faces of All Might stared back at him; yet, they couldn’t seem to comfort him in the ways they did when he was younger.
Before he realized it, Bakugo was kneeling on the floor right next to Izuku’s bed, holding the boy’s arms like staples to his body, firmly enough that he couldn’t shake him off but gently enough that Izuku felt delicate. Like people had to be gentle around him, like he was something that could be broken.
“Hey, hey, why were you screaming?” Bakugo panted out, he had clearly run from the common rooms up to the second floor. Unless, Izuku had somehow screamed loud enough to be heard from Bakugo’s room. Was that possible? Izuku hadn’t even noticed he was screaming.
“Zuku, please, what’s wrong?”
With that line Izuku seemed to snap back into reality. As though his spirit, floating outside his body, had been called back and obligingly returned.
“It…It was just a night-, a nightmare,” the boy stammered out not realizing what a lack of air he had. “I’m fine, Kacchan really.”
Bakugo looked at the boy a moment longer, almost analyzing his face. Searching for anything that may bring him peace of mind. But he clearly couldn’t find anything of the such and promptly stood up before stepping towards Izuku’s closet.
“Do you want a new shirt?” He asked, with a falsely optimistic tone in his voice. “That one looks kinda…wet.”
Izuku stopped and looked down at himself, he was a mess. His shirt was absolutely drenched, as were his bandages. Although he had been discharged from the hospital about a week ago, Izuku never got around to taking them off. No one dared ask him why, he knew that they were too afraid that there was a reason he kept them on, too afraid to confront the fact that Izuku might’ve gotten worse again, that whatever is going on is more serious than just him being too tired to go to class and some nightmares.
“Izuku?” Bakugo called back at him, his voice hinting that he called for his attention a couple times now.
“Oh uh..yeah, yes please.” His voice was scratchy and frail, he sounded pathetic.
“Thank you.” He responded once Bakugo had thrown a shirt at him.
He quickly switched out his attire and threw the blanket off of himself, deciding that it’d be best for him to not sleep with the moisture. Assuming he’d be able to fall back asleep at all.
“Do you need anything? I can stay here with you tonight if you want,” Bakugo tried.
This made Izuku giggle a bit, “You’re just saying that ‘cause you want to stay.”
Bakugo took note of the tone shift in the room, any tension was slowly lifting.
“You wish,” he responded jokingly, yet still headed towards the door to allow Izuku to rest once more.
Yet, before he made it there Izuku made up his mind, “Actually I do, come back,” the boy said through smiles and a small laugh.
“Ughhh, if you insist, I suppose I could,” Bakugo retorted, mockingly, before climbing next to him and dozing off where he lay.
Izuku had some trouble though. His arms were sweaty as well, he might be able to ask Recovery Girl or Mr. Aizawa for some new bandages tomorrow, but there was no way that that’d be able to happen without them checking his arms. But, his thought process was cut short as the sound of his friend’s snoring seemed to lull him to sleep. Though, honestly, it was probably the lack of sleep that truly did the trick.
Izuku seemed to stop taking care of himself after the final war. He couldn’t help it, he hated it, he’s had episodes similar to this before. Too tired to sleep, too empty to eat, and too many thoughts to regulate and cope like a healthy person. But this time was different, this time was torture. He’s never had so many people care for him, so many eyes around every corner watching what he does (and doesn’t) do. It was so uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to alarm his friends but at the same time he just wishes that they would ignore him. It was little things at first, Sero joking that he looked like a corpse after another night of no sleep, Yao-Momo commenting that he hadn’t eaten much before excusing himself, Todoroki mentioning the continuation of him wearing long sleeves even as the weather grew warmer. But it’s somehow managed to get even worse since then and his friends know it.
They stare cautiously at him when he enters the room. In the rare occurrence he does grab something from the fridge, everybody seems to hold their breath in an attempt to not point out that what he grabbed obviously isn’t enough food. Along with the bandages, even when Izuku can see them staring daggers into them. Almost as though they’re desperately trying to peak at what’s underneath just for the sense of mind that it isn’t what they think it is. They would be wrong of course, but Izuku can’t blame them for hoping. That would be incredibly ironic. Or at least in the past it would’ve been. Izuku doesn’t seem to hope anymore nowadays. Just another thing stripped from him in the war.