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You Don't Have To Lie To Me

Summary:

“You have classes tomorrow,” Aizawa pointed out as he blinked to release Aoyama’s quirk, “You should be asleep. What are you doing outside at this time of night?”
The student seemed embarrassed to be caught, but he retained his signature smile. Even as sweat poured down his face, and his knees nearly buckled under his meager weight, he still smiled. Something about that made Aizawa worry more.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Aizawa blinked blearily at the light streaming in through his dorm room’s window. It was nearly midnight, far too late for it to still be light out. He almost dismissed it as just being the moon, but the purple-tinted light faded out before suddenly coming back brighter than before. It definitely wasn’t the moon, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was if that was the case.

An annoyed grumble escaped the teacher’s throat. He readied his scarf and began his way toward the U.A. dorms exit. As he shuffled through the dark halls and stairways, he secretly cursed himself for taking a room on the top floor. Aizawa really just hoped whatever it was causing the strange light could be dealt with quickly, so he could get back to sleep.

The entrance to Heights Alliance creaked open, and Aizawa carefully stepped out. He stalked along the side of the building, capture weapon in hand. Once he caught sight of the person who caused the disturbance, he relaxed considerably. It wasn’t a villain, it was one of his own students.

Aizawa wasn’t sure what to think when he found Aoyama outside at the dead of night, laying in the grass and blasting his bright purple laser upwards to the sky. Yuuga just happened to be laying beneath his homeroom teacher’s window, incidentally waking the older man with the flash of light his quirk emits.

Aoyama tried to activate his quirk once again, not noticing Eraserhead’s entrance. He was surprised to find that it wouldn’t work. He sat up and looked around, only to be met with glowing red eyes. The blonde clutched his stomach and let out a surprised yelp as he scurried to his feet. Blades of grass stuck out of his hair, and the back of his white nightshirt was damp and stained green.

“You have classes tomorrow,” Aizawa pointed out as he blinked to release Aoyama’s quirk, “You should be asleep. What are you doing outside at this time of night?”

The student seemed embarrassed to be caught, but he retained his signature smile. Even as sweat poured down his face, and his knees nearly buckled under his meager weight, he still smiled. Something about that made Aizawa worry more.

“Sorry, Monsieur Aizawa. I just thought I might benefit from some extra quirk training,” Aoyama answered nervously. Eraser’s frown deepened. He quirked an eyebrow at the shivering boy.

“At midnight? In your sleep clothes?” the teacher asked. Yuuga’s smile became more strained. He looked down and kicked lightly at the perfectly maintained grass with a fluffy purple slipper.

Aoyama stayed silent as Shouta stared down at him with bloodshot eyes. The teacher thought about the day’s earlier quirk training, and how Aoyama had sat, clutching his stomach in pain, for about half of it. Aizawa had been too busy with other students to pay any mind to the blonde boy.

Yuuga had always dealt with the problems his quirk caused on his own, but maybe that isn’t such a good thing. Midoriya had the support of Uraraka, Iida, Todoroki- even All Might, but who did Aoyama have? Aizawa regretted that he didn’t know, and certainly wasn’t, the answer.

Aizawa stared at Aoyama’s fake smile, and he hated it. He hated that he didn’t notice earlier how fake it is, or how it faded when Yuuga watched his classmates train their quirks as he sat on the sidelines trying not to be sick.

“Listen, Aoyama,” Aizawa eventually sighed, “You’re free to wear that smile all you want around your friends, but you don’t have to lie to me.” He kneeled down to meet Aoyama’s eyes, which had become downcast and glazed over.

“Just tell me what’s wrong,” Shouta finished, and placed a steadying hand on his student’s shoulder. Aoyama froze for a moment, before his plastered-on smile finally turned to a frown. The change was almost startling in how drastic it was. Suddenly, he was no longer the sparkly, confident, and completely plastic boy that Aizawa saw every day in class. He was Aoyama Yuuga, a fifteen year old boy struggling with a quirk that destroys his own body.

“During the quirk training today, I was the only one who had to take any breaks,” the boy finally admitted, “Even Uraraka no longer feels nauseous as often. I’m-” His voice cracked. “I’m the only one who isn’t getting better.”

Aizawa gripped the delicate shoulder a bit tighter. He should’ve noticed before how upset Aoyama was. He’d been distracted by other students, but that’s no excuse. Like any other kid, Aoyama deserved to have someone who would be there for him. Aizawa had failed in that role before, but he wouldn’t let that happen again.

“You are getting better, Aoyama,” Eraserhead promised. His voice was steady, flat, convincing. Yuuga met his gaze with watery, hope-filled eyes. “You wouldn’t still be in my class if I didn’t think you were trying your best and getting better. I mean that, Kid. You might not have even noticed, but you have been slowly increasing the amount of time you can use your quirk. Even though your quirk hurts you, you still power through it. That’s impressive, Aoyama.”

Aoyama had begun crying quietly, and Aizawa wiped away a tear with his thumb. His other hand stayed firm and grounding on the boy’s shoulder.

“I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it,” the pro hero continued, “Aoyama, I’m really proud of you.”

The young hero’s face wrenched up, and his breath caught harshly in his throat. When he broke down into sobs, it was out of surprise and joy, not sadness. He leaned against his teacher as his weak knees finally gave out.

Aizawa caught Aoyama as he fell against him, and allowed the sobbing boy to cry into his chest. Even though it stained his scarf with tears, Aizawa wasn’t about to deny Aoyama the support he so clearly needed.

It took a while for Yuuga to regain his composure, but Aizawa stayed with him the whole time. Shouta busied himself by petting Aoyama’s head and meticulously picking blades of grass from the usually-perfect blonde hair.

Once the hero-in-training was ready, Aizawa helped him back to his room in the Heights Alliance building. He only released his hold of Aoyama when he was one hundred percent sure that the boy could hold himself upright on his own.

Eraser reminded Aoyama to change out of his grass-stained shirt and get some sleep, then turned away to return to his own dorm with a satisfied nod. Yuuga gripped the door jamb, his legs still shaky after over exerting himself. He took in a breath, deep as he could through his pain and nausea.

“Thank you, Sensei,” he called out, just barely loud enough for Aizawa to hear. “It means more than you could ever know.”

Aizawa paused in his steps, and let out a gruff little sigh. He only glanced back, but saw a very genuine, albeit tired, smile on his student’s face.

“Goodnight, Aoyama.”

“D'accord, alors bonne nuit.”

He waited until he heard the click of the door to Aoyama’s room latching before he started towards the stairs again. Aizawa trudged up the steps, to his dorm, and finally to his bed. He peeled off his capture weapon, absently noting the damp spots on it and his shirt.

He knew he should’ve been annoyed that his sleep was interrupted. He should’ve been mad at Aoyama, but he couldn’t bring himself to be, because he did know how much his words meant to the boy. They meant far more than they should have. As he laid in the quiet dorm room and tried to fall back asleep, Shouta couldn’t help but wonder how many times- if any- someone had told Aoyama they were proud of him.

When Aizawa finally drifted off, it was the thought of Aoyama’s real smile that had soothed his restless mind. The next morning, when Aoyama confidently inserted himself into Midoriya’s conversation with Iida and Uraraka, Aizawa had to hide a grin behind his no-longer-damp scarf. Aoyama was back to his old sparkly self, like the night before hadn’t happened, but his smile was more natural, more genuine.

Aoyama pushed himself during quirk training, but didn’t neglect his own health, and sat out when he needed to. He asked for help from Aizawa, Uraraka, and Midoriya, and eventually others too. He allowed himself to frown, so when his smile came back it only looked all the more real. He gave his homeroom teacher a look, with a twinkle in his eye, when he could use his quirk longer or when his grades got a little better because he finally joined Yaoyorozu’s study group.

And Aizawa returned the look with a subtle nod and a grin hidden behind his scarf, because he knew that a little show of support was everything Aoyama ever wanted. Aizawa knew that Aoyama would train his quirk, and fix his grades, all so he could become a hero.

Aizawa knew that one day, Aoyama Yuuga would become a great hero, and he couldn’t be prouder.

Notes:

I hope you enjoyed the Dadzawa & Sparkle Son content that no one else was brave enough to write.