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Aoyama had been lying awake most nights wondering why he was still here. Here as in ‘The Hero Course’ here. And also ‘alive’ here. When he really thought about it, his quirk was pretty much useless. He couldn’t use it for longer than a second without pain, anyways. Maybe if he didn’t have that birth defect, he would be stronger. Maybe, if he were stronger, he would deserve to be here.
Aoyama squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the dark thoughts to go away as he turned to face his wall. As soon as they opened again, the thoughts came back. Thoughts about how useless he really was if he really thought about it, thoughts about the only reason he’s still here is because his classmates keep saving his ass because he can’t fight alone, thoughts about how nobody truly cared about or understood him, thoughts like maybe he didn’t even deserve to be alive …. Thoughts like those.
Those thoughts had been harboring in his brain for some time now. Usually Aoyama was able to dismiss them, and remind himself that people truly did care about him. Everytime he did so, he struggled to name someone who truly did care about his existence, so he eventually stopped trying. Once he stopped trying to think of names, the thoughts took over.
He couldn’t sleep most nights. If he could, it was because he was crying so much he got tired and passed out. Aoyama was confused but apathetic about his worsening mental state. He hadn’t been in such a dark place in so many years, why is he in an even worse spot now? There was no escaping it, Aoyama resigned bitterly. If he was able to get out of it years ago, he could do it again. Hopefully.
Tears burned in Aoyama’s eyes, threatening to spill. Aoyama curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his own torso in attempts to comfort himself. He desperately needed a hug, and with the reminder that nobody was around to give him one, the tears in his eyes dripped down his cheeks. His soft, heartbroken cries turned to sobs, and Aoyama grabbed his spare pillow to hide his face in. He didn’t want to be a nuisance and wake his neighbors with his emotions.
After a few minutes, Aoyama’s crying began to calm down. Feeling so sad but so numb, Aoyama sniffled as he sat up, placing his spare pillow back behind the one he had been laying his head on. He took a shaky breath, his lip quivering as more tears continued to fall.
Once Aoyama’s crying downgraded to small, pitiful sniffles, he decided it would be best to try and fall asleep since it was one in the morning. With another shaky breath, Aoyama closed his eyes. He took deep breaths to calm himself down, and was surprisingly asleep within minutes.
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Aoyama shakily opened the cabinet above his bathroom sink, spotting the box of Benadryl. He had been given a box by Recovery Girl. She had told him to take one an hour before going to bed to help him fall asleep whenever it was necessary. With a flat expression, he grabbed the box and popped every remaining pill out of it’s pocket and into his hand.
27, he counted. 27 pills in his hand.
Tears of sadness, of anger, of relief slid down Aoyama’s cheeks as he messed with the pills in his hand. He slowly sat down by his door, unable to take his eyes off of the pile of medication in his hands. He wasn’t having second thoughts, surprisingly. Aoyama thought he’d chicken out.
Water bottle in hand, Aoyama took a deep breath before taking 4 or 5 pills at a time until they were all gone. With shaky hands, Aoyama set the water bottle up on the sink by the empty box of Benadryl.
Aoyama closed his eyes. The deed was done. All there was left to do now was wait.
Soon,
he thought,
soon it’ll all be over.
Aizawa paced the dorm halls, doing a 3 a.m check like they did every night, depending on who took the night shift. When checking the second floor, he noticed a light coming from under Aoyama’s door. He approached it, deciding to knock. He waited a few moments before knocking again, since he received no answer.
The silence was beginning to worry him. Aizawa knocked for a third time, a little more frantically this time. He called out Aoyama’s name, and felt anxiety begin to kick in when there was still no answer. After knocking for the fourth and final time, Aizawa announced that he was going to enter the room.
When the door opened, Aizawa felt the eerie atmosphere immediately. Something about the room was off-putting. Aoyama’s bed was a mess, yet he wasn’t in it. Aizawa felt a lump form in his throat when he noticed that the bathroom door was open. As he stepped in further, he saw what looked like someone laying down on the bathroom floor. With a sickening jolt, he realized it was Aoyama. Aizawa rushed over, his heart racing in his chest. Aoyama looked pale and sickly.
“Aoyama?” Aizawa called out, shaking his shoulder. He felt like he had been punched in the gut when he felt how limp the small boy’s body felt underneath his touch.
Aizawa’s heart dropped to his toes when he saw the empty box of Benadryl on the counter, and when he saw the packaging in the trash can. Acting on instinct, he crouched beside the boy, grabbing his wrist in attempts to find a pulse. Unable to find one, he placed two fingers on his carotid, shakily exhaling when he was unable to find one there, either. Aizawa crouched down further to try and hear if Aoyama was breathing. He wasn’t.
Aizawa stood up, using shaky fingers to dial 119 for an ambulance. After making that call, Aizawa called All Might, asking him to take over the remainder of the night shift. When asked why, Aizawa replied by saying he had an emergent situation to deal with. No other questions asked, All Might agreed and said he should be there in ten minutes.
Aizawa arrived at the hospital, getting out of the ambulance with Aoyama on a gurney. They got him into a trauma room and did everything they could, but were unable to bring him back. Aizawa sighed, his heart heavy in his chest. He curtly thanked the doctor who brought him the news, and dialed Aoyama’s mother’s phone number in his phone. He had saved it and was waiting for something concrete to tell her. Now he had to tell her that her son was dead.
Minutes later, Aoyama’s mother arrived at the hospital, understandably distraught. Aizawa had given her a hug, and she was asked to identify her son. Once his identity was confirmed by her, they spoke about arrangements with his body. It was such a private conversation, Aizawa couldn’t bring himself to listen further. He stepped out of the room out of respect for her, and also because it broke his heart to listen.
The next day, Aizawa walked into the classroom with much less energy than usual, and that says a lot. The class immediately caught that something wasn’t right, and Aizawa almost didn’t know if he could bring himself to say it. He took a shaky breath, composed himself, and broke the news to Aoyama’s classmates.
Everyone was devastated. The classroom broke into tears. Everyone . Even Bakugo was tearing up.
Conversations swept the room about how they had no idea that Aoyama was feeling that way, conversations of students blaming themselves for not being there and for not reaching out. Tearful conversations about what a wonderful student he was. Tearful conversations about how he was supposed to be a Pro Hero and live a great life. Tearful conversations about his bright, bubbly personality. Tearful conversations about what they could possibly do without him.
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Aoyama jolted awake in a cold sweat. He was hyperventilating. He placed his hands on his chest, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He had a heartbeat. He was breathing. He was okay. It was just a dream.
His dream felt so… real . Aoyama’s mind was going a million miles a second. Aizawa was sad, his mom was sad, everyone was sad… everyone was sad. Everyone missed him. Everyone cared about him. Even people in the class he didn’t talk to much. They cried for him. They all did.
Aoyama hopped out of bed, pacing his floors. He was too shaken up to go back to sleep. He took a deep breath, continuing to make laps around his dorm room with his hand on his chest. He decided to throw away the box of Benadryl in his medicine cabinet in his bathroom. Aoyama felt sick knowing it was there and needed it gone.
Aoyama ended up leaving his room and found himself knocking on Midoriya’s door. The two had become something he’d call close friends. He sighed, fidgeting with his fingers. A few seconds later, a tired and slightly disheveled looking Midoriya had opened the door.
“Aoyama-kun? It’s three in the morning,” Midoriya pointed out sleepily, squinting a little at the light in the hallway. Aoyama mumbled a quick apology at that.
“Are you okay?” Midoriya asked after a moment, looking at Aoyama’s face. Aoyama thought for a minute, and ended up shaking his head. Midoriya sighed and stepped aside, inviting him in. Aoyama stepped inside, and politely and awkwardly waited for Midoriya to sit on his bed before joining him.
“I had… a really… weird and sad dream,” Aoyama began in a solemn tone. Midoriya furrowed his brows, but remained silent, letting Aoyama continue.
“I had a dream where I killed myself,” Aoyama continued, his voice barely audible. He fought his quivering lip, blinking away the tears that had formed in his eyes.
“It felt so… real,” Aoyama exhaled, a tear squeezing its way out of his eye and onto his cheek. “And the weirdest part about it all is that… I had been thinking… dark things before that.”
“Aoyama-kun,” Midoriya spoke, his voice soft and sympathetic. Aoyama didn’t want to look at him. He knew that if he saw the look on his face, he’d explode into tears.
“I was thinking about how my quirk is useless and how I don’t deserve to be here,” Aoyama spoke, his voice wavering. “The thought that nobody truly cares about me took over.”
“I passively thought, ‘Why am I even still alive? Why do I try anymore if nobody cares?’ and,” A tearful sigh cut Aoyama’s sentence short. “I couldn’t think of anybody who would miss me.”
“But in my dream, everyone missed me,” Aoyama cried, a sob forcing its way out of his lips. “Everyone. Everybody cried. Everybody missed me.” Midoriya wanted to speak, but decided to give Aoyama all the time he needed to vent.
“Aizawa found me, and he was devastated ,” Aoyama muttered. “My mom was devastated. Everybody was so upset.”
“Of course we were,” Midoriya found himself speaking despite his previous efforts to remain quiet. “I know you might find it a bit hard to believe, Aoyama-kun, but we all really care about you.”
“I’m really glad you’re still here, we all are,” Midoriya continued. Aoyama found himself tearing up so much that he could barely see the boy in front of him.
“And, for what it’s worth, I think your quirk is cool and unique, not useless,” Midoriya smiled warmly. “I think you’ll be an amazing Pro Hero.”
Aoyama burst into tears, pulling Midoriya into an unexpected hug. The latter froze briefly, but relaxed and hugged Aoyama back.
“Oh, thank you, you have no idea how much that means to me,” Aoyama cried, his voice so shaky his words almost not understandable.
“Anytime,” Midoriya replied. Aoyama pulled away, wiping away the tears on his face.
“Thank you for listening to me cry at three in the morning,” Aoyama said less seriously, causing Midoriya to laugh.
“That’s what friends do,” Midoriya smiled. Aoyama smiled, too. He said goodnight and thank you one final time before returning to his own dorm room for the remainder of the night.
Aoyama felt that he had a new lease on life. If he couldn’t think of any names, he would remember Midoriya for sure. His words were heartwarming, and Aoyama didn’t know how badly he needed them until he heard them.
Aoyama felt a genuine smile form on his face for the first time in weeks upon thinking about the fact that people truly did care about him. And the world’s most well-read boy in terms of all possible known quirks had told Aoyama he thought his was cool and unique. Not useless and weak. Cool and unique. He had never heard those words used to describe his quirk before. That same boy also told him that he would make an amazing Pro Hero. Aoyama had never heard those words before either.
Aoyama got himself comfortable in bed, smiling instead of crying. It gave him comfort knowing that his negative thoughts were just that: negative thoughts. Not facts. Remembering what Midoriya said and keeping it in mind gave him something to hold onto.
Aoyama decided he was going to prove them wrong. He was going to be an amazing Pro Hero, despite what he fears and despite what everyone else may or may not think.
And Aoyama knew that no matter what happened, Class 1-A would always have his back.