Work Text:
It had been a couple weeks since the last instance, and it almost never stayed this calm for long. He knew it was a matter of hours before it happened again.
The front door opened.
He had his headphones on before he could hear the loud thump as it slammed shut.
The music was on before his mother opened her own bedroom door.
He was lost before it really started, and that was what mattered.
The ease of the music loosened his consciousness, his eyes became heavy, while his body felt lightened. He was back in his river, where it didn't matter where he wanted to go or where he was leaving, only where he was at that moment. The stinging coldness washed over him like a blanket tucked past his chin, and he welcomed it with a serene smile. He felt his tail, swishing and swirling with him as he turned and spun through the current, every movement in his body bringing a new sense of peace and freedom. He splayed his fingers wide, feeling the push of the water against his open palm, and felt lighter and lighter and lighter with every flick of his tail.
This was his sanctuary, his happy place. The place no one could ever interfere with, because it was safe within his own mind, wrapped with care and tenderness. This was his oasis when the desert came back to haunt him.
If he could still hear what sounded like heavy footsteps, then he deemed it a part of the bass of his background music.
If he could still feel the vibrations of what felt like glass hitting the floor, shattering, he attributed it to the current of his river.
The song ended, and he could start to feel his senses come back to him, as if he was waking up from a nap. He could feel arms underneath his forehead, he could hear the soft sweep of a broom on the floor, he could smell the dinner he had left sitting on his desk, forgotten for the time being.
He carefully pulled his headphones off and set them down beside his dinner plate. He’ll eat it tomorrow, he just wasn't hungry right now.
Izuku crawled under his bedsheets, turned over, and let his eyelids sink.
He was safe for now.
He had at least a week until he came back again.
No more screaming.
No more shattering.
No more, for just this week.