Work Text:
It was a Sunday and Midoriya Izuku didn’t get out of bed.
It was seven a.m. and Midoriya Izuku hadn’t exited the dorms for his morning jog.
It was ten a.m. and Midoriya Izuku shifted in bed to face the wall, avoiding the sunlight at least a bit.
It was noon. and no one had seen Midoriya Izuku since the day before. He hadn’t come down to eat lunch, or breakfast for that matter.
It was two p.m. and Midoriya Izuku moved from his stationary placement, half under his covers, to grab the closest earbuds he had, old wired ones from several years ago.
It was four thirty p.m. and Midoriya Izuku listened to an old song from the early 2000s on a loop, the soft lyrics and soothing guitar lyrics only solidified the hopelessness and fatigue that he was already feeling.
It was six twenty three p.m. and Midoriya Izuku had fallen asleep after a day of stasis longing for unconsciousness.
It was eight a.m. and Midoriya Izuku greeted his friends with starry eyes and a wide smile that everyone was so sure was real.
It was a Sunday and Midoriya laid down for the last time at age thirty seven in a bathtub, the cuts in his wrists and thighs giving him the euphoric feeling of peace.
It was eight a.m. and Midoriya Izuku greeted them with dead eyes and that omnipresent smile.