Work Text:
“Today I want you all to write a short paper about something or someone that has greatly affected who you are as a person.” Aizawa said, standing at his podium. There were a few groans and a few excited noises. “Go ahead and start. Don’t disturb me.” He bundled himself up in his sleeping bag and dozed off. The students got paper and pencils ready. Some were quick to start writing while others stared at their blank pages. Izuku quickly began to scribble away. When the other students noticed how fiercely he was scribbling and erasing and scribbling and erasing they mostly thought he was either writing about his mom, All Might, or even Bakugou. Class dragged on, some students finishing their papers early while others still wrote theirs. Izuku had gone through several pieces of paper by the time the lunch bell rang and he visibly startled. No one really paid attention, all knowing how he gets when he’s lost in his work. After lunch, when everyone was back in the classroom, the bell having rung, Aizawa stood at the podium again. “Everyone get out your papers. You are going to read them out loud.” Some students flushed, but Izuku paled. No one seemed to notice, though, most focused on getting their bearings or pulling out their papers. Izuku shakily got his out and stared at it for a minute. Aizawa randomly picked students to read their papers and they were all relatively sweet. Most talked about parents and Pro Heros, while a few talked about teachers or mentors. Soon, the moment Izuku was dreading, Aizawa called his name. He took a deep breath, stood up, walked to the front, and laid his paper on the podium. He kept his eyes trained on his paper, determined to not look at anyone. He began to read:
“My dad looks at me sometimes and asks where his little girl went. The one who was always happy. The one who always smiled and laughed. She left after the fourteenth time. She started packing after the first. Each time she put a little bit of her happiness in a suitcase until it was all packed. She walked right out the front door, happiness and all. She left an empty shell to be filled. The anger and confusion began to become too much to stay as emotions. It bubbled and fizzled until it formed another soul to take over the shell. That’s where I came from. You created me. Or maybe I was always here, just kept in hiding until your little girl couldn’t handle it anymore. Until she left, leaving me with the sadness and the anger and the confusion. But she left me some happiness. She tucked it away in my mom. But you kept coming into my room and every time I tried to reach for my happiness you would always swoop in. You hurt me in ways no eight year old should be hurt. I was five the first time. The first time she tucked a little bit of joy away in her suitcase. This went on for years. You would leave for months and when I would finally start thinking that you had finally left for good, you would come back. Back to my room, back to my bed, back to my life. Then you would kiss my mom the next morning, nothing like how you kissed me the night before. Every night a little more of me dies. I can still hear your socked feet in the hallways, see your shadow at the foot of my door, feel your breath against my ear. My dad looks at me sometimes and asks where his little girl went. I bite my tongue because all she left me was a monster in the night.”
Izuku didn’t mean to get so emotional. He didn’t mean to raise his voice a few octaves. He didn’t mean to start tearing up. He didn’t mean to read it out loud. He didn’t mean to write it. It just happened. The words formed on the paper, then in his throat, then in the air. He shook, tears threatening to spill. He had just bared himself for his classmates and teacher to see. “I don’t get it.” It was Mineta who broke the silence, with his stupid lisp. This seemed to break the dam that was blocking his tears in and they spilled over. Izuku ran out of the room wiping furiously at his face. No one was supposed to know. He told himself he wouldn’t tell anyone. He told himself no one would find out. It would stay their secret. No one would look at him in pity. No one would hesitate to touch him. No one would pause before speaking. No one would feel sorry for him or bad. No one was supposed to know. No one was supposed to know. Before he even realized it, he collapsed in the middle of the hallway and screamed, curling in on himself. He screamed and screamed and screamed until his lungs were aching and his throat was raw. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him and he was left inhaling the familiar scent of woods and sweat filled his nose as he softly, quietly sobbed. He clung to his teacher like a lifeline. As if he were to let go it would all disappear. As though he would be transported back to those nights in his room after his mom had tucked him in and his dad had come in to “say good night.” He knew in this moment nothing would be the same. He knew he would have to tell Aizawa what had happened. But not right now. Right now he just needed to hold onto Aizawa, breath him in, and let him comfort him. Right now he needs to focus on his teacher, not the other students curiously peeking out of their classrooms as their teachers try to access what is happening. No, he just needs to let Aizawa hold him. He can do that. He buries his face into Aizawa’s chest, sobbing but not as bad. He was glad it was Aizawa who had approached him. He would have to thank him. Later. He doesn’t want to think about anything other than the soft fabric of the shirt and the calming scent of woods.