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“Kid, don’t do this.”
Midoriya turned around.
The wind blew his curled hair into his face, making it difficult to make out the figure in front of him.
“Sorry. I thought no-one would find me here. I’ll just-”
“You’ll just do nothing except step away from the edge.”
The urge to scowl at the command was strong, but given the relatively serious circumstances, Midoriya kept his disobedience restrained.
“Apologies for interrupting you, sir.” Midoriya called, hoping to be heard over the gusts of cool air.
“You can apologise,” The stranger began, manipulating a strand of white scarf to hover behind the teen, “When we’re not five floors off the ground.”
A gentle tightening of Midoriya’s midriff enticed him to look down at the pale fabric wrapped around him, almost a mirror of the silver moon highlighting the ever so slightly familiar figure.
“E...EraserHead?” A glimmer of surprise flashed in the taller’s eyes at the name.
“That’s me, kiddo. Now, let’s go inside for a.. Chat, of sorts.”
Midoriya sighed, he’d been planning this for a while, not a particularly large segment of his life, but a good couple of days, and now it was all over.
“Fine.” He huffed, lacking the energy to argue with the hero at the current time.
A silent, and overall awkward journey began, Aizawa borderline dragging the teen behind him.
It took a minute or two for the pair to arrive at the base of the building, more than long enough for Midoriya to think up multiple flawed escape plans where he can finally end his life and more than long enough for Aizawa to pick up even more concern for the child in front of him, mostly brought on by the boy’s near constant muttering.
The hero chose a nice, empty alleyway to have their discussion.
Keeping the capture weapon loosely circling the student, he blinked slowly, hoping to evoke some sort of trustful reaction.
“All right, kid. Talk.”
“Uh, sorry if this is rude, EraserHead Sir-San, but I don’t think I can do it that simply..” Midoriya pressed two fingers together repetitively in a mock of anxiety relief.
Aizawa held back a sigh. If he hadn't, it could've been taken in the wrong way which was a huge no-no with the current circumstances.
"Would it help if we went somewhere more private?"
Midoriya shrugged.
"I don't know." His voice was quiet, his vision blurring.
His knees buckled and the ground grew closer.
He heard a muffled curse and then everything faded to black.
Aizawa barely managed to tighten the capture weapon in time to catch the boy.
"FUCK!"
He'd forgotten that it wasn't uncommon for jumpers to have a backup suicide plan.
He looked down at the unconscious body in his scarf, and then back up to his surroundings.
He sighed, glad no-one was around to hear it. Looping the excess weapon around the fire escape, he pulled himself up and began to head in the direction of UA.
The journey was by no means short, but speed was critical when Aizawa had no idea what the kid had taken, how much he'd had and when he'd done it.
Slinging his way across buildings, he hoped to Kami that Recovery Girl was still in the building. She tended to be, for this type of reason, but there was the off chance she'd left anyway.
The dim lights of the school gave off a slight glow, and a block of yellowed light drifted from the medical office.
"Oh, Kami. Fuck yes!" Aizawa huffed, letting go of the last building and dropping to the ground gracefully, the kid still held tightly.
Kicking the door open with his hands full of teenager may have not been the best entrance, but it worked.
"Jesus, Aizawa!" Recovery Girl held a hand over her chest at the sudden appearance.
"Oh, dear." She sighed as she caught sight of the boy in his arms.
Pulling out a chair by the side of a bed, she beckoned the teacher forwards and he placed the greenette down carefully.
"What happened?" She asked.
"Found him on a roof, got him down and he just… Collapsed. Could you check his blood or something?"
The healer nodded and began setting up.
A few minutes of silence fell upon the pair as the bloodwork was in the process of completion.
“Ah.” Recovery Girl murmured, glancing at the screen in front of her.
“What is it?” Aizawa asked.
“There is a concerning amount of benzodiazepine in his blood, it looks like alprazolam.”
Aizawa nodded in understanding.
“I’m going to prep for the flumazenil injection as soon as possible.”
The woman wiped down a space on the teen’s arm with antiseptic, sticking in the IV shortly after.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she turned back to Aizawa.
“He should be fine. We can search him up on the database to get his emergency contact once he’s awake and you’ve spoken to him.”
She gave him a stern look.
“And please, for the love of Kami, try not to stress him out too much.”
Aizawa nodded.
He looked at the frail form of the teenager, eyelids weighing too much and drifted off to a dreamless slumber.
Midoriya’s eyes fluttered open and he winced slightly at the bright marigold lights above, too bright even in their dimmed state.
A pale hand went to his pounding head as he attempted to sit up. A short, sharp pain in his arm persuaded him to look down, a small IV trailing out from a vein.
Fighting the instinct to pull it out, Midoriya glanced around with minor caution. If this was a proper hospital, he had a concerningly large chance of being kicked out.
Not many places helped his kind.
The room was relatively large and housed several beds and a lot of cabinets.
It didn’t look much like a hospital, more like a decently funded… No.. He scoffed at the thought.
“No… No way.”
The more he looked around, the most convincing the evidence was.
The final piece of the puzzle was a plaque, situated on the far right wall, the letters ‘U.A.’ Written with no room for misreading.
It was a bit of a let down that he hadn’t noticed it sooner.
Internally cursing his self proclaimed stupidity, Midoriya turned over to admire the other half of the room.
Midoriya’s assessment of his surroundings took a few more minutes.
After that, he simply stared at the wall opposite him with concerning integrity. His calming blanket of silence was broken by the door being pushed open, drawing his attention like a moth to flame.
As much as Midoriya wishes he didn’t recognise the figure casting a shadow across the bed, it wouldn’t change anything.
“Oh.” Midoriya said, eyes boring holes into the hero's chest, a rueful feeling draped over him like a damp towel.
Aizawa narrowed his eyes, relaxing his muscles shortly after, from fear of scaring the teenager.
“Look, kid.. I’m sorry. I get that most people in your position really, really don’t want to be saved, but-”
“I understand,” Midoriya cut in.
“Apologies for interrupting, EraserHead Sir-San, but I get it. You see the person, you’ve got to do something about it. Look, if you can just let me go, you can forget about this, and me, and you can just move on and have a happy life.”
“But I can’t.” Aizawa kept his voice soft, as if consoling a lonely kitten.
“What kind of hero leaves someone alone? I don’t care if you did it because the sun wasn’t bright enough today, or- or if the price of a coffee was too high, talk to me, please.”
He took a step forward, kneeling by the boy.
Reaching a hesitant hand up to rest on his shoulder, the adult smiled.
“W-well…”
And so he spoke.
He spoke of burns and stinging sweetness, of baseless emotions, of blind trusting, of repeated abandonment and of toxic actions.
And Aizawa listened, for as long as the teengaer took, he was there.
Once Midoriya finished the teacher sighed.
“Listen, kid.” Aizawa pulled out a small piece of paper with a string of numbers written on it.
“I know you probably won’t, but please, call me if you ever want to talk it out, or anything.”
He backed away, letting his knees skim the floor in his steady retreat.
“I’m a teacher and a hero, it’s my job to help people like you, so try not to bother worrying about wasting my time, okay?” He asked.
Eyes wide and wet, he swiped at the growing tears with unfiltered determination.
“I-i’ll try, EraserHead Sir-San..”
Midoriya did, in fact, try to contact the hero.
However, his anxiety got the better of him all but one time.
And that one time was worth it all.
“H-hello?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
Midoriya nearly sobbed. The older man’s voice hadn’t changed a bit since the first time he’d heard it.
“It’s- Um- It’s Mi-Midoriya.. You- Uh- You saved me, a while back. I just- Uh.. I just wanted to thank you…”
“It was no problem, Midoriya-San. I’m glad I was there.”
“I-I’m sorry for bothering you, but.. I just wanted to say goodbye..”
Aizawa heard a soft clinking, like a chain had been disturbed on the other end.
It didn’t paint a pretty picture.
“Midoriya-San, do you mind telling me where you are?”
A frustrating silence sprouted, coming to a relieving end shortly after.
“Uhm.. I’m really sorry, EraserHead Sir-San, but… I think this is the last you’re gonna hear from me, for a while, at least..”
Aizawa held his breath, begging Kami for him to elaborate. His fruitless prayers went unanswered and the teen then gave a short ‘Sayōnara’ before hanging up.
“FUCK!” He shouted, dialling the most useful person he could think of in the current situation.
“Naomasa, fuck, i need you to find a kid… No, I only know what he looks like.. Short-ish green hair, green eyes, about five foot five, Shit, we have to find him.”
The detective’s response was cut off by his phone beeping in warning of low battery.
He usually kept it well charged, but he was in the middle of patrol and wasn’t expecting the call. He could only stare helplessly at the screen before it flickered off. Now all he could do was to hope that Naomasa would find the kid before it was too late.