Work Text:
“How are you doing kid?” The green haired boy stood at the entrance of the teacher’s offices silently, but you felt the fear wafting off of him. “Recovery Girl fix you up?”
“Yeah,” he hesitantly offered.
“You didn’t show up last week,” you stated the obvious.
Before he could respond, a streak of red hair nearly barreled him over. “Oh.” The second boy was breathing as though he’d just run a couple of miles, and was sweating like he had as well. “Hey Midoriya. Oh, um, I – I’ll come back later.”
“No, you won’t,” you sighed, minimizing the lesson plan for the third years that you had to rework after the lost classroom time. It was a refreshingly menial first task back at your desk, especially since you were still dealing with the incident with Aizawa in the infirmary.
“Come in, both of you. Come in and take a seat. Clearly I’m too scary to meet with one on one,” you offer sarcastically, knowing neither of these boys had any sense of self preservation. Part of you thought they were too stupid to be afraid of what you were capable of. Another part of you reveled in the fact that they both feared the fallout of a bad grade more than they feared your quirk. The thought ‘Delicate little Himbos’ crossed your mind; good heads on their shoulders, but dumb – very, willfully dumb.
Both boys slumped over, grabbing nearby rolling chairs and plopping into them. “Ok – first thing’s first,” you proclaimed. “Why’d you two stand me up?”
Midoriya began stuttering and falling over his words.
Kirishima just set his jaw and avoided eye contact, the gears in his head clearly churning up an answer.
You let them each have a moment to think before finally offering “I understand that these things can be private, sometimes stress and anxiety about school and grades and teachers can be hard to share with peers. Would you like to have these conversations in private?” Your voice was even and smooth and the right mix of condescension and parentification with just a dash of ‘motivational speaker’ – it made you feel dirty when you spoke this way. It was the voice the doctors in the institution used on you.
As you waited for the boys to respond again you remembered the phase you went through early on in the institution – perhaps at your most intensely psychotic phase – of giving the Agency-Lacky caretakers nightmares and horrific hallucinations on purpose. A phase that culminated in months of deprivation ‘therapy’, increased drugs, and the electroshock therapy; you still flinched when you heard Kaminari use his quirk.
Finally, Kirishima spoke up. “I was one of the last ones scheduled, I already knew about what you were going to ask about and talk about, and honestly – I just got scared. I panicked.”
Midoriya scrunched up his face in, what looked like, shame. “I forgot.”
You and Kirishima both looked at the boy.
“I forgot,” he repeated. “I was doing some additional training and I completely forgot.”
You and Kirishima both chuckled at the green haired boy.
“But, honestly, I heard from Iida all about what you guys discussed – and, really – I don’t feel like it's relevant. Like I don’t think there’s anyone I’d want to focus on.” The boy began to ramble. “Iida told me it was his brother – that he chose his brother for the exercise – but I just feel like he wasn’t being honest. I can’t explain it, but I was thinking about it and I love my mom, but I don’t think that’s the type of love that you were telling us to focus on. I think that’s why I don’t believe Iida. But, maybe he just doesn’t feel ‘that’ way about anyone. I don’t know, then I thought about All Might, but no - that’s not really right either. Maybe it would have been, but that – that’s a different problem.” You didn’t think the boy had taken a chance to breathe, but you let him go on. Kirishima was just marveling at his stream of consciousness, and you did your best to follow – the strange shift in his feelings and the way he winced at the words did not go unnoticed though.
“What do you mean?” you proffered softly, not wanting to pull him from his thoughts, just direct the train. You prayed Kirishima was as discrete with other’s secrets as he attempted to be with his own.
“Oh.” You successfully steered the runaway train. “Just – I don’t know – I had a crush on him back in middle school, it’s kinda the reason that I know I like guys a bit too. But now, it’s weird, he’s actually in my life but as a mentor and I feel bad that I ever thought of him in a ‘he’s hot’ way. But it’s not right. It’s not the right feeling. And then there’s –” he finally cut himself off, clasping hands over his mouth with a shudder, his face turning crimson.
“Oh no.” The boy gagged on the words from behind his hands. “All that was out loud, wasn’t it?”
“That’s OK.” You did your best to remain neutral. “I think Kirishima is good at keeping secrets too,” punctuating the sentence with a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, man,” Kirishima offers tentatively. “No worries, we all have pro-hero crushes, mine –” he started, paused and heaved a deep breath. “Mine’s been Hawks for a long time now.” The red haired boy blushed, looking away.
“Oh, so you like blonds?” Midoriya asked innocently.
Kirishima jumped. “Wha- what! N-no! no!” he stuttered, but sank back into his seat pretty quickly. “I mean yeah, kinda – I don’t know.” He looked dejected.
“I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that,” Midoriya offered. “I don’t know if I’d tell Kacchan about having a crush on anyone else though; he’s pretty possessive, even if it is just a pro hero.”
“What!?” Kirishima was on pins and needles again.
You looked to Midoriya in shock; this boy was observant, but you had – to this point – gotten the impression that he was not very good at spotting romantic signals.
“Yeah,” Midoriya said tentatively. “I mean, since you two are in love, right?”
You were further taken aback.
Kirishima was on his feet. “What are you talking about.”
“Are you not?” Midoriay puzzled.
“No!” Kirishima’s defensiveness melted again, he spent a moment mulling over the other boy’s words before retaking his seat. “I mean, Bakugou doesn’t love me.”
You desperately wanted to correct that fallacy, but knew better of it. Midoriya was speaking again though, before you could offer any comfort to the boy. “That’s weird.” He was puzzled. “Tsu and Uraraka said that you loved each other and it was so obvious it was painful. And honestly, Kacchan lets you touch him and you can convince him to do things, and all of that is why I knew he’d take your hand at Kamino. ‘Cause Kacchan loves you. I’ve known him my whole life, he’s nicer to you than he is anyone else. Even his own mom! She is kinda crazy though.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re a lot alike. It was weird going over to their house as a kid.”
“What?” Kirishima asked dumbly.
You’d heard mentions of the Kamino incident, everyone knew what happened to All Might there, but this – this was not part of the stories you’d been told.
Kirishima looked like he was reassessing his entire life before your eyes. Finally settling on “Bakugou isn’t gay.”
Midoriya’s face was dumbly confused. Something about that last statement just did not compute.
“Midoriya does, perhaps, know Bakugou better than anyone else,” you finally offered. “It may be worth listening to him.” You found yourself flustered with the little blond fucker, he was supposed to have this conversation with Kirishima days ago.
There was silence.
“I think the –” you mulled over the words. “docket – for these one-on-ones has been miscommunicated. Listen boys, I think it is important for you to be able to connect with the feelings you are experiencing, and you deserve to have all of them validated, even the ones that are usually brushed off as the passions of youth. However, the discussions were intended to focus on using an array of bridled emotions to combat psychokinetic attacks. Yes, I want you to find a focal person, but I also made it clear that I only need to know if you are struggling to find that person.”
“I don’t think any emotion I’ve ever felt can be described as ‘bridled’,” Midoriya offered bluntly.
Kirishima just looked to the ground, wide eyed and nodding.
“Why is that?” you asked. “Midoriya, you are a methodical, critical thinker. You are capable of rationalizing, so why do you feel that you can’t take a breath and assess your emotions in the moment, reeling them in and focusing them to protect yourself?”
He answered too quickly. “Protecting people means putting yourself in danger, I – I just don’t – I mean I think about how to protect others.”
“And that’s how you ended up breaking every bone in your body,” you quipped mercilessly.
He winced.
“Izuku Midoriya. You can not be a hero, much less a good hero, if you are too broken to get up from every fight. Breaking your bones will put you in a wheelchair, and a fake smile leads you to be a prematurely washed up try-hard. Neglecting either physical or mental needs will kill you.” You let the words sink in, but the boy still seemed to be preparing a protest. “Just ask All Might.” Both boys winced. “A fake smile hides a multitude of sins.” You turned on your own glaringly brilliant PR smile, the same one you met them with each class. “Trust me on that.”
Your smile fell back to its soft, pleasant, practiced, and still very fake welcoming smirk.
After a long pause, Midoriya finally spoke. “I just, I don’t know how I feel.” He sounded exasperated. “I just know I want to be a hero, and nothing else is anywhere near as important.”
“Your mother?” you asked.
“Well, yeah!” he jumped. “But that goes without saying. And All Might is important to me, and Kachan, and everyone in class 2-A.”
“But not more important than being a hero?”
He looked to the ground; a sick part of you was glad he was feeling so much shame. He was someone who had so many people loving and adoring him; while he didn’t seem to entirely take it for granted, you still didn’t like his priorities. You would have killed for real friends and a loving family at his age. You had to work to swallow down your own immature reaction to the boy.
“It’s not that,” he squeaked. “I just, I don’t think I’m good with words.”
You knew you needed to stop making the boy feel bad, you had to will yourself to sound comforting to this kid you found yourself resenting. “Well,” your voice was soft. “You write a lot, correct?”
“Yeah.” He looked back up at you.
You mentally high-fived yourself for this idea. “Well, why don’t you let me know what’s on your mind with a letter. It seems that writing will allow you to really break apart your feelings, and you can revise and rewrite before delivering it my way.” Plus, you didn’t add, this way you would be able to give the boy well thought out and compassionate responses that didn’t reek of your resentment.
You smiled at the green haired boy with as much fondness as you could dig out of yourself, before turning to Kirishima. “And you.” Your fondness turned more genuine.
Kirishima flinched.
You placed a hand on his knee. “It sounds like you have that focal person.”
“Yeah.” He looked on the verge of tears.
“You should talk to him.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” he explained.
“That’s ok too,” you assured. “But it also sounds like you are cognizant of your own head space and that’s a really good start for these exercises.”
“Really?” He perked up cautiously.
“Yeah,” you press with a sigh. “Listen, you’re a pretty well-adjusted kid. You’ve been through a lot and your biggest issue, from what I can see, is having terrible taste in men.” You can’t help the giggled scoff at the end of the sentence.
“I –” he starts with a waver in his voice, before setting himself to the words. “I still have nightmares about Kamino, like it’s not all sunshine and roses, sometimes I cry when I think about the way I could have lost everything. I think about the league and I think about All For One, and I think about the U.S.J. attack and it scares me and – and – and I – I just – I – well –” he sputters to a stop.
“What?” you ask simply.
“I – when – well, I moved my bed to the wall closer to Bakugou’s room ages ago because pressing my hand to the wall and listening for him is the only way I can calm down when the nightmares get too bad. Sometimes it’s not enough though and I just want to be next to him.” His hands were grasping desperately at his pants legs.
For everyone else, it was so easy to turn away from a crush or a companion and dive into them, but so much of this boy before you was tied to an angry creature with a ravenous temper. Your heart ached for him.
Midoriya was just as struck by the confession. The boy may not have been the brightest bulb you’d ever met, but he did have the sense to keep quiet as emotions spilled from his classmate.
“I don’t feel like I’m good at dealing with my own head space or anything like that.” Kirishima screwed his eyes tightly shut.
“I did not say you were good at dealing with the feelings,” you quipped plainly. “You’re a teenage boy, you suck at feelings. You’re going to suck at feelings for a pretty long time to come. What I said is that you are cognizant of your headspace. You are aware of your shortfalls and passions and that is a pretty good place to start. The fact that you can sit here and not only recognize that you are experiencing a trauma response, and you’ve developed deep feelings for your closest friend, but you can also share that. Kirishima, that’s an outstanding place to start.”
He swallowed heavily, looking up to meet your eyes.
“You are both still getting Bs for not showing up last week,” you huffed with faux reproach, looking from the smile growing on the red haired boys’ face, to a scrunch-faced Midoriya; clearly embarrassed from his own thoughtlessness.
The boys left and you stuck As into your grade book. Aizawa didn’t have to know; he probably would, he seemed to know everything when it came to the students he looked after, but he wasn’t going to say anything. For some reason, he was growing to trust your judgement.
You mulled over finding Aizawa to ask about Kamino after the boys left – it would make for a good ice breaker, a good way to test the waters, to see what remnants of your friendship were salvageable. But, a better option presented itself when Toshinori slumped into the teacher’s offices.
“What happened between Bakugou and Kirishima at Kamino?” you asked without preamble.
He’d looked up at you with shock set into his tired, sunken eyes.
“I know it’s hard for you to discuss,” you acknowledged. “But those boys - those two especially - something happened and it put them in an orbit of one another that is spiraling against better judgement.”
The question was not one he was used to when it came to Kamino; they were usually all about his career ending, and the destruction and death he couldn’t prevent, but something in this question brought a smirk to the weathered man’s features.
And so, he explained as much as he could. As much as he knew. As much as Midoriya had told him.