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“Sensei,” Midoriya says one day after English, when all of his classmates have gone to lunch.
“What’s up?” Hizashi asks brightly, giving the kid a 1000-watt smile and getting a much dimmer one in return than usual. He tilts his head, because while this isn’t the first time Midoriya’s stayed back to ask or help or clarification, there’s something... different.
The lack of smile for one. The slight trembling of his shoulders as well.
“Sensei, can I have a hug?”
Hizashi blinks - that wasn’t the question he was expecting - but simply holds his arms out wide. “Of course! Come here, little listener,” he all but coos and despite the embarrassed flush on Midoriya’s cheeks the kid barrels into him, clinging on with his considerable strength.
And for ten minutes, Hizashi leans back against the teacher’s desk, and just holds the teen close. He has no idea what’s brought this on, why Midoriya has come to him, but... At the end of the day, Hizashi is a hero and a teacher. And if one of his kids needs a hug, a hug they’ll get.
Besides, Hizashi gives really good hugs.
When Midoriya eventually pulls away, Hizashi loosens his grip immediately, but keeps his hands gently resting on thin shoulders. “Thank you, Sensei,” Midoriya says quietly, and before Hizashi can ask if there’s anything he wants to talk about, bolts from the class.
Hizashi snorts softly in the quiet left in the wake of Midoriya’s departure. At least the kid looks better now, less pale and with some of the sparkle back in his eyes.
Not to mention that awful trembling had stilled at last.
It becomes a thing, is the thing. Every Wednesday like clockwork, Midoriya lingers in the 1-A class after everyone else has left, and asks Hizashi for a hug.
Sometimes the hugs are brief, fleeting points of contact, and sometimes they’re like the first, Hizashi just holding the teen until Midoriya relaxes. He’s noted it in the teen’s file, that he seems to be desperately touch-starved, and he knows the other teachers, mainly Shouta, have been keeping an eye on him as well. And if Hizashi sees Shouta patting the kid gently on the head after school one day before shooing him off to the dorms, well. He likes his head attached and keeps his mouth firmly shut on the matter.
And Hizashi’s not an idiot - this little ritual only started after the dorms were implemented. Until now, Midoriya must have been attached at the hip to his mother, which is very sweet honestly. So if Hizashi can help him cope by giving him a hug once a week, of course he’s going to do that.
And then, six weeks into term, Midoriya doesn’t stay in the class on Wednesday. Instead, his friends all but drag him away, despite his quiet insistence that he has a question. Hizashi is about to intervene when Vlad, with his usual awful timing, barges into the class past the departing students and demands a moment of his time.
The last Hizashi sees of Midoriya that day is the sad resignation on his face. It hurts more than Hizashi thought it would.
Which is why, the very next day, Hizashi nags at Shouta until the man relents and lets him take 1-A for afternoon homeroom. Admittedly, it may be a preemptive overreaction but...
Hizashi just wants to make sure Midoriya is okay.
And from the way Shouta actually gives into Hizashi’s nagging, and even claims he has an ‘appointment so the loud one will be watching you’ to his class before skulking off, Midoriya must be doing pretty not okay.
And he is, that much is clear. His hair is messier than usual, tangled and knotted in places, and the bags under his eyes tell of a sleepless night, as does the stark paleness of his skin.
He looks bad, and it’s clear his classmates have noticed as well, because they’re unusually well-behaved and quiet, and shoot not-really subtle looks at him every so often.
If Midoriya wasn’t so exhausted, Hizashi has no doubt the kid would be mortified by the attention.
When the bell for the end of the school day rings, Class 1-A files out. Only Asui and Uraraka remain, their eyes filled with worry as Midoriya sits doll-like at his desk.
“I’ve got this,” Hizashi tells them softly, and he gives them both gentle pats on their hair. “Midoriya will be fine.”
The two girls nod and leave at that, but only with several concerned glances back at their friend as they depart. Hizashi just waves them off, and only once the door has closed behind them does he kneel beside Midoriya’s chair and call his name quietly.
It takes too long, several minutes in fact, before Midoriya’s eyes find Hizashi. And when he does, the teen’s face slackens in clear relief, and he practically falls sideways out of his chair into Hizashi. It’s a move that makes him very relieved he removed his directional speaker at the start of homeroom.
For a few moments, it’s pretty awkward as Hizashi manoeuvres Midoriya into his lap, and he gets an elbow to the rib twice which is something he knows never would have happened to Shouta.
But then, Hizashi is sitting cross legged with Midoriya curled against him, and shaking silently in his arms.
It’s the closest he’s seen the kid come to crying during one of their hugging sessions, and Hizashi hesitates only for a moment before saying, “you can cry, if you want. I don’t mind.”
And then it starts, with a slow, lingering build-up of tears until Midoriya is sobbing into Hizashi’s jacket. It’s a little gross, with a mess of snot and tears no doubt being made, but that’s the thing about leather, it cleans easy. And even if it didn’t, Hizashi wouldn’t push Midoriya away. Not when the teen is so clearly struggling under some weight that Hizashi doesn’t know.
But he doesn’t need to know to just hold Midoriya close, and murmur gentle, soothing words into his tangled green hair.
At one point, Shouta slips silently into the room, and his eyes soften immensely when he sees Hizashi holding his Problem Child. But he doesn’t stay, just tilts his head at Hizashi just so as if to say, ‘I’m trusting you with him,’ and leaves again, the papers he’d come for in hand.
Midoriya, still buried in Hizashi’s neck, doesn’t so much as pause or slow in his crying during this, and it’s heartbreaking that one missed hug has led to this. Hizashi hadn’t realised exactly how reliant Midoriya had become on their weekly ritual, and he vows to not let one pass by again.
“Everything is so much, Sensei,” Midoriya whispers only once his tears have run dry. “But you never ask, you just help.”
Hizashi hums softly, with only the barest touch of his quirk to make it more of a soothing purr.
“I really appreciate it - you, Sensei. Everyone always wants me to talk. But you just let me be.”
Hizashi’s heart melts in that moment for Midoriya. “Whatever you need,” he says softly, “alright, listener?”
“Mm.”
Midoriya drops his head back down, and Hizashi doesn’t coo at how he’s placing his ear directly above his heart, because he has self-restraint and will scream about how cute that is later.
And then, they sit quietly, silent but for Hizashi’s gentle crooning purr, and even when their breathing syncs and Midoriya’s eyes begin to droop as the sun sinks low over the horizon, they stay sitting.
Only once the sun is fully below the horizon does Hizashi risk moving. It takes a bit of effort, but he manages to stand with Midoriya tucked close against him in a bridal carry, clearly out for the count. His breathing is slow and even, soft against Hizashi’s neck.
He looks young, Hizashi thinks. Too young for whatever burden it is he’s carrying. But all he can do is support his student, hold him close while he fights his battles, and offer simple kindness. Like a hug every Wednesday, or a chest to cry against on a Thursday afternoon.
When he gets to the 1-A door, Hizashi kicks it gently, and it slides open immediately. As expected, Shouta is waiting there, the bags under his eyes dark. He never likes it when his students struggle, but some of the shadows lift when he sees Midoriya whole and healthy, albeit passed out.
“He’ll be alright,” Hizashi tells his husband, “he just needed a hug.”
It’s a gross understatement, and yet not at the same time. Shouta seems to understand that, simply tilting his head in acknowledgment. And then, he reaches out and brushes a stray curl away from Midoriya’s eyes, in an unusual show of softness.
“We should get him back to the dorms,” Shouta says, and he turns on his heel and begins walking as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. “Our room, I think. He doesn’t need the questions from his friends right now.”
Hizashi simply snorts softly and hoists Midoriya a little higher before following after his husband. Any discussions of therapy or just someone to talk to can wait for morning.
For now, the teen in his arms is safe, and that’s all that matters.