Archive of Our Own

It almost felt like the light hadn’t touched Aoyama's room in ages, even though his bedazzled curtains were wide open and the cloudless sky was as gorgeous as ever. Blinding rays of sunlight filtered through his balcony door, hitting Aoyama right in the eyes and disturbing him out of his gentle drowsing. He moaned and begrudgingly opened his bagged eyes, his hair only getting more disheveled as he weakly lifted his head off the pillow. At the realization that he’d forgotten to close his curtains once again, he urged himself to get out of bed.

It was hard for him to move from his spot.

Aoyama’s dorm room bed had become his only solace. Perhaps the average person wouldn’t call his room “comforting”–it barely resembled its former tidy appearance, with dirty shirts and socks thrown onto the floor, countless empty cups accumulating on his desk, a pile of trash on his bedside growing larger by the day, and the same sleeping cap he wore every night somehow sitting on the other side of the room despite him never placing it there.

But Aoyama didn’t have the resolve to clean anything up. Every ounce of energy had been sapped out of him–to the point that he didn't have the slightest desire to leave his bed. Just the thought of moving felt too draining. The only thing he really wanted to do was spend the rest of his days wearing his pajamas and hibernating in bed, either with his eyes closed in an attempt to fall back asleep or with them open as he ruminated against his will, slipping even deeper into the hole he suddenly found himself in two weeks ago.

Aoyama vividly remembered the day he first learned about Midoriya’s well-kept secret. Class 1-A had finally returned to the dorms after a few days of healing at Central Hospital. Midoriya hadn’t been seen since that morning, but nobody could make sense of his mysterious disappearance.

The nineteen students had all solemnly walked into the dorms, Aoyama trailing behind without a trace of his usual smile.

He remembered his classmates' cries of shock as they stared at the papers in their hands, their wide-eyed gapes and heartbroken stares permanently burned into his mind.

He remembered walking faster and faster back to his room, each step only feeling excruciatingly long and agonizing in his memory.

He remembered opening the door to his room, the only disturbance to the twinkling atmosphere being a letter neatly placed on the top of his bedsheets.

He remembered how naïve he'd been when he first picked up the letter. He had no idea how much power it would hold over him. He didn't know it would change the course of his life–and destroy his chances of ever being happy again–just from the knowledge he gained from those few short sentences.

"I inherited my power from All Might–

"Shigaraki and All For One are coming after my quirk–

"You will all be in danger because of me–

"Therefore, I’ve decided to leave UA High.

"Thank you. Goodbye."

It was concise without any sort of cushion to lessen its impact. Like a parasite sucking the life force out of its host, Midoriya's confession had latched onto Aoyama's mind and refused to let go–not any of the hours before he could manage to fall asleep nor a single second after he would wake up.

Learning how he was both entirely alike and completely different from Midoriya sent him into a debilitating depression.

From the moment the message clicked in Aoyama’s head, he stopped caring about everything. It was all pointless. No matter how hard he tried to alter his fate, he would always be too afraid to go against his master's orders. All For One would always overshadow Aoyama’s every action, and he had no way of escaping. His voice had been silenced the day he was given his quirk.

And because of that, nothing would ever change.

The fact that he was wallowing so much only made Aoyama feel worse. If Midoriya had been in his place, he would never lie around crying over how disgustingly pathetic and cowardly he was. He would never run away from his mistakes by hiding under his covers and wishing his problems away. No, the rising hero Deku would face his mistakes head-on. He'd admit to his crimes and redeem himself in the end. And then, he would hunt down his manipulator himself–just like he was doing right then, traveling across the nation in search of the man who caused the downfall of Japan.

The very man Aoyama was afraid to even think about.

It was painfully obvious which of the two previously quirkless boys was the actual hero.

Times were hard when dealing with severe depression. Aoyama only left his bed a few times a day. Sometimes his thoughts would race after reliving every traumatic experience he'd gone through in his mind, and he would begin to pace, making jittery turns around the enclosed area to follow a somewhat patterned circle. Sometimes he’d find Midoriya's letter again and stare at the kanji like some sort of self-inflicted punishment–a temptation that he knew would only make him feel worse, but one he couldn't resist.

Very rarely, Aoyama would force himself to change out of his pajamas and leave his room. He didn’t have much of a choice when the UA dorms had communal bathrooms. And while he'd lost the desire to eat early on, he knew he needed food from the downstairs kitchen to survive–although forcing it down his throat despite his sheer aversion to the idea was a struggle in itself.

During those few times he ventured outside of his room, he would occasionally spot one of his classmates in the direction he was heading in. It would put a metaphorical stake through his heart every time–a sudden stab of anguish and inexplicable longing. But he had no choice but to mask his emotions and keep a straight face.

His classmates would then greet him, saying hello like nothing was wrong at all. Aoyama would force out a response–adding his usual flair like he hadn’t just spent the past two weeks in the most miserable state of his life–and walk away before they said anything more.

While Aoyama lied in bed with his blankets snuggly wrapped around his small frame, his mind would often wander to different places. Places that didn’t make sense to wander to. Places that were just plain silly to think about! But he still let his imagination take control, picturing scenarios where–in an unrealistic situation where his insurmountable fears weren’t in the way–the one secret that had caused his downward spiral in the first place would be revealed.

Oh, Aoyama would never have the courage to utter those words. One would have to cut open his chest, reach into his lungs, and rip them out themselves if they wanted to hear his secret.

But what if someone discovered the truth on their own? Aoyama was always conflicted on how they might react in that hypothetical situation. Would his classmates be mad at him? Express their hatred by hurling their best insults at him? Tell the whole world that he was nothing but a liar and a traitor and a villain?

Or would they possibly empathize with him?

Despite knowing that such ideas were far too impractical to ever come true, Aoyama thought about them regardless. The same scenario played in his head every time: Midoriya would find out the truth, and Aoyama would finally get his chance to explain everything from his point of view. He would share how he'd been forced to keep his secret under tight wraps, morph his personality to a far exaggeration, perform devious acts behind his teachers' backs, and somehow manage to keep his overwhelming guilt at bay–all to keep his dear loved ones safe. He would share how completely awful he felt over betraying his new friends and how he wished things could be different. And maybe Aoyama wouldn't share anything past that, but there was a small part of him that hoped that Midoriya would finally see the depression he'd fallen into so suddenly–the one that made him feel so alone and abandoned.

And then, maybe Midoriya would empathize. Maybe he’d apologize for missing the signs. Maybe he’d reassure Aoyama that none of his crimes were his fault–that he was only trying to keep his parents from harm and never, ever wanted to hurt anyone else. Maybe he’d comfort Aoyama by wrapping him up in a tight hug and saying he’d forgiven him for everything. Maybe he'd promise that he still saw Aoyama as a hero–and a close friend–and that they were going to get through those hard times together.

And those very words would make tears fall right out of Aoyama's eyes. He'd cry into Midoriya's shoulder and tell him how thankful he was for his support and forgiveness. Maybe he wouldn’t entirely believe Midoriya, and maybe he wasn’t truly sure if his life would get better–but he would hold onto Midoriya’s hope like a lifeline thrown out to him as he drowned in the depths of the ocean.

That was the scenario Aoyama imagined the most.

Deep down, he knew that a happy ending like that was only a product of his desperate fabricating. In reality, it would never come true.

Aoyama didn't understand why his thoughts always ended up in the same place. His heart would ache ten times more whenever he realized that his classmates would never forgive him if they ever found out the truth. So he would forcefully eject the scenario out of his head, curse at himself for falling into the same mind trap once again, bury his misery that always arose after his mind-wandering, and continue to sleep his life away.

Sleeping was Aoyama's only coping skill–he utilized it as much as he could. It made the days feel longer than they actually were, but at least they passed.

It took Aoyama an embarrassingly long time to close his curtains–almost three days after originally intending to. That bright afternoon, after growing tired of being constantly taunted by the cheerful sunlight, he managed to get himself out of bed and close them.

The closed curtains had altered the state of the room. Without light, the myriad of sparkles adorning every surface couldn’t twinkle anymore.

Aoyama quietly went back to bed.

The next day was shower day–he didn't have enough energy to take daily showers anymore, so he had reluctantly decreased his shower schedule to every few days. But ten extra minutes in the bathroom meant a much higher likelihood of him running into another person.

Luckily for him, the bathroom remained empty the entire time he took his shortened shower routine. His classmates must've been busy training without him–he could catch up another time when he wasn't feeling so tired.

Aoyama returned to his room in peace, pondering if he should do something else before attempting to sleep again. But his pondering was soon interrupted by something he caught in the corner of his eye. There, right where the wall connected to the floor, was a small blur scurrying along the line of the baseboards. Something that was now underneath his bed.

“...Une souris?”

A mouse. That was what it was. Aoyama had lowered himself to the ground, peeking under the small gap created by his platform futon to see a tiny brown-furred creature eagerly sniffing a moldy chunk of cheese.

How disturbing. Aoyama never liked animals–but especially rodents. They had skin-colored, hairless tails that were unnatural for a furred creature. Their yellow teeth looked as sharp as daggers; he feared they could pierce through his skin with a single nip. The way they ran in sporadic, abrupt movements always sent chills down his spine. And he could never forget about the movies he watched as a child where the antagonists were wild rats. They would flood the cities in swarms of black pelts and red eyes, giving him the childhood fear of one day being buried under the same swarm.

It would make sense for Aoyama to recoil in disgust from the sight of a real-life mouse. But that time, he didn’t feel sickened or afraid. He was too tired to feel anything.

Aoyama stayed still, crouching on the ground with his knees tucked into his chest and his forearms flat in front of him as he kept his eyes on the mouse. It hadn’t noticed him yet–it was too focused on the stereotypical mouse treat in front of it to remember to keep watch for threats. Aoyama watched with morbid curiosity as the hungry creature dexterously reached for a small portion of the cheese and nibbled on it. It wasn’t phased by the fact that the food was long expired–it must’ve been pleased enough just finding something to eat.

It was almost like Aoyama had been put into a trance as he continued to watch the mouse, his less-than-dignified hunching position starting to feel more comfortable by the second. It certainly felt more comfortable than expending all of his energy just to stand up again.

That little mouse was admittedly quite intriguing to watch.

Aoyama wasn’t able to witness the mouse’s feast for long. It finally remembered to check its surroundings, only to find that a large, intimidating predator was monitoring its every action. Without a single squeak, it beelined for the wall, darting towards the corner that Aoyama never realized was large enough for a mouse to fit through and left the room.

Then he was alone again.

Aoyama was very surprised by how calm he was acting right then. His least favorite animal species had been casually snacking underneath the very bed he slept in–and maybe even before that day, too. But in a strange way, his mind felt more at ease watching the mouse eat its meal so innocently than it did attempting to sleep every hour of the day. Were those few minutes of quiet watching the first minutes he’d been able to forget about his relentless despair ever since it started?

Aoyama stayed in his spot, staring at the hole the mouse had left through. He wasn't really expecting it to return, yet he was still intently watching the hole. There was a very tiny part of him that hoped it would come back–which, again, was very odd when he hated mice.

Aoyama only snapped out of his trance when he remembered that there was still a moldy piece of cheese on the ground. Maybe it was a good idea to clean it up sooner rather than later.

Sighing, he wormed his hand under the futon, grabbed the last of the cheese, and pulled it out.

Mouais…way past its expiration date.

After the cheese was properly disposed of and Aoyama had returned to his cushioned refuge underneath his blankets, his mind wandered like it normally did–but not in the direction he expected it to. Instead of ruminating over All For One and his classmates and his parents, he thought about the little mouse he'd just encountered.

Perhaps it wants more cheese?

The idea of inviting a wild mouse into his room would normally make Aoyama's toes curl in disgust. A mouse was a mouse, not a guest invited to dine at his kitchen table. If anything, he should be alerting one of the adults of its presence so they could hire an expert to properly search Heights Alliance's walls, figure out if there was an infestation problem, and exterminate any vermin trespassers.

But Aoyama couldn't stop thinking about giving that mouse more cheese.

It seemed to enjoy my brie…would it be interested in gruyère as well?

Aoyama had a lifetime's worth of cheese stored in the dorm refrigerator downstairs. Before the war, one of his most beloved pastimes had been eating cheese with his classmates. They weren't as enthusiastic about trying some of the strange flavors he had in his collection, but he was more than satisfied being able to share the love of his favorite dairy meal.

The events of the war made him lose all interest in eating cheese–not until that moment, that is.

I'll give it another serving of cheese. Mice love cheese.

Needing more cheese meant needing to go downstairs–the place where Class 1-A congregated the most often. But Aoyama knew he wouldn't have to stay there for long. Just a quick trip to grab what he needed and go.

Sure enough, the common room wasn't empty. A few of his classmates were busy chatting around the television as he walked out of the dorm elevator. Aoyama pushed them out of his mind as he snuck to the fridge, opened it up, and took out a generous helping of gruyère cheese.

When he turned back around, he saw that Ashido and the other students had been watching him curiously. The pink-skinned girl gave him a cheeky smile.

"Always snacking on cheese, aren't you, Aoyama? Some things never change!"

Forced interaction. Aoyama slapped his feigned flair back into his voice.

"Oui."

Still not very convincing, but he wasn't going to get much better at masking when his classmates were the people he was talking to.

Aoyama was able to escape after that. His hands shook with anticipation as he stared at the chunk of gruyère in his hands.

His original plan for preparing the mouse's meal had been simple: throw it under the bed and forget all about it. But as he examined the cheese once again–its size so grandiose it could barely fit in his palm–he began to wonder if an animal as small as the mouse could even fit its mouth around such a large piece of food.

I could chop it up into smaller pieces, peut-être…

He thought more.

…I could put it on a plate, too, so it won't get dirty.

A garnish on top would be fitting as well, non?

The more he inspected the cheese, the more ideas he got–and the more his heart began to accelerate.

Aoyama hurried to gather the spare kitchen supplies he kept in his room for spontaneous cooking needs. Once his arsenal of kitchen tools were laid out in front of him, he began to prepare an exquisite dish just for his new neighbor. He channeled his inner chef just to create the perfect meal–chopping swiftly and neatly, whipping up mixtures, and shining his choice of serving plates.

There wasn’t a single distraction that could take Aoyama’s attention off of the task in front of him. He was completely absorbed in his cooking, putting his best foot forward just to make the dish look as impressive as it could. It wasn't just his average school lunch–he had to leave a good first impression on his guest!

A subtle drizzle of homemade strawberry jam, and…voilà!

One fancy miniature cheese dish, perfectly fit for a mouse.

His chest fluttering with excitement, Aoyama nudged the plate as far underneath the raised futon as he could, stopping once it was in the same spot the moldy cheese had been in. He hoped that a fresh, non-expired piece of cheese would be more appetizing than a rotten one. Feeling slightly proud of how delectable the dish looked, Aoyama waited eagerly for the mouse to appear, expecting its beady-eyed head to pop out at any moment.

But he wasn't serving a human. He was serving a wild, undomesticated mouse that had already been freaked out by his presence once before. It wasn't coming back until it had more time to recover from its recent scare–especially since Aoyama was still out in plain sight.

Aoyama was finally able to accept that after a few minutes of uneventful waiting. It was at that point that he realized…why was he putting so much effort into feeding a random rodent?

As Aoyama sat back up in his spot, slowly mellowing out after his wild frenzy of adrenaline from before, it finally dawned on him how absorbed he'd been in his cooking–and he felt completely silly for it. Why did he care so much about something as insignificant as a mouse? Why was he wasting so much of his already-limited energy on creating a meal for essentially no reason?

Any sort of lingering feeling of excitement was now completely gone, instead replaced with a strong wave of humiliation that made him want to hide away forever. Aoyama looked back up at his bed and sighed, the dark pit that'd been nesting inside of his stomach for weeks giving him a stubbornly hard kick of hopelessness. Leaving the dish behind, he crawled back into bed, his eyes dull and forlorn as he let his head drop onto the pillow.

Maybe he should just stick to sleeping.

-

It took a while for Aoyama to fall asleep, but he eventually managed to–a victory for him. When he woke up a few hours later, he forced his legs out of bed, intending to take a quick trip to the bathroom before settling back into bed–his lactose intolerant stomach didn't appreciate the tiny bite of cheese he'd sampled while cooking. But before he set off for the bathroom, he noticed a plastic container on his desk. He didn't recall placing it there…

Attend une minute…that's one of my cheese containers.

Oh, right. He was trying to feed the mouse under his bed the last time he was awake. He'd almost forgotten.

Aoyama was planning on completely forgetting about the mouse. He'd been such a fool spending his valuable sleeping time encouraging a pest to eat his treasured cheese. And yet, he soon found himself on the ground again, checking to see if it had returned.

My goodness–there it is!

The mouse was back, its tongue darting in and out as it greedily licked the empty plate like it was savoring every last taste of the strawberry jam. Just seeing the furred creature again gave Aoyama a rush of grossed-out fear and exhilaration. He was still a little off-put by the fact that it was a rodent, but he'd been hoping so much that it would return that he couldn't help but feel a smidge of delight.

Similar to how Aoyama had been so engrossed in preparing the perfect meal, the mouse was completely engrossed in ingesting every last part of that same meal. Such a ravenous critter was far too oblivious to remember to check its surroundings for snooping humans.

You're out of cheese again, aren't you? Aoyama thought, keeping the words inside of his mind so he wouldn't startle the mouse again. It didn’t even flinch as Aoyama quietly backed away from the bed and stood up as slowly as he could.

He had more cheese downstairs.

Entirely focused on his new goal, Aoyama raced downstairs and grabbed three different kinds of cheese. It didn't even cross his mind to check if any of his classmates had been in the area–he was too busy running back up to his dorm room.

"I’m sure it wants more brie," he whispered to himself in the most hushed voice his vocal chords could produce. "J’aime le brie. Tout le monde aime le brie." But Aoyama hadn't learned from his mistakes. He was so caught up in his emotions that he wasn't thinking about how loudly he was moving, and he energetically pranced towards the bottom of the bed in a graceful yet noisy manner. Clutching the chunk of brie in a stronger grip than he had intended to, Aoyama pounced onto the ground, his mind excitedly revolving around the thought that he was about to have another living being to snack with again– 

But Aoyama's sudden surge of energy did not match the softer lifestyle of the mouse. As Aoyama dropped to the ground, the mouse flinched, whipping its head around to see a human with glistening, wide eyes and bared white teeth. To a tiny prey animal, Aoyama looked more like a lion about to tear its limbs apart than a fellow cheese lover. Terrified, it fled straight into its hole just like before.

"Merde!" Aoyama cursed. He'd done the same thing all over again. It was hard to tap into his gentler side and keep himself from going overboard when he was just so excited.

But despite his disappointment, there was still good news: the mouse had come back. It obviously enjoyed his meal, too, considering that the plate was (quite literally) licked clean. So most likely, it would come back for more cheese–maybe not right away, but eventually.

Aoyama eagerly replenished the empty plate by placing his brie on top. Since it'd seen for itself that Aoyama had more food to provide, perhaps it would want to come back sooner. So the high-spirited boy adjusted his position by sitting up, ready to wait for as long as he needed to–

"Aïe!"

A sudden painful stab in his stomach told him that maybe he should go back to his original plan of using the bathroom before doing anything else.

One quick trip to the bathroom later, and he was beyond elated to see that the mouse had blessed him with its presence!

Aoyama didn't understand why he found so much pleasure in watching a gross rodent eat a giant piece of cheese. He entered a comfortable position on the ground akin to a cat lounging in loaf-style, serenity washing over him as he gazed at the living, breathing creature across from him. He could see its pelt moving, its whiskers twitching, its eyes blinking…a real-life creature. The closest thing he had to a companion. A friend.

It was the first time in a long time that Aoyama could smile.

–

It was after that day that Aoyama truly began to bond with his new friend.

Aoyama quickly learned that the little mouse liked to return in four-hour intervals. It was usually the most active during the early hours and late evenings–true to its crepuscular nature. Every time it would visit, Aoyama would have a new type of cheese on the menu: Camembert, Roquefort, Mimolette, and sometimes even Pont-l'Évêque. He had more cheese than an authentic cheese shop–all served fresh for his beloved company.

The more Aoyama fed the mouse, the less timid it became. Considering it was a wild animal that valued self-preservation over its bonds with a predator, it always recoiled from Aoyama's hands and would flee if it felt too threatened. But after a while, it grew comfortable enough to eat in Aoyama's presence, even if he was right next to the bed. The allure of soft, delectable cheese was just too tempting for any living being.

One day, after the mouse had finished its meal like usual, Aoyama tried directly feeding it with his hand–to which it immediately fled. But he later discovered that if he put the cheese right below the edge of the bed frame and backed up a bit, the mouse would eventually become daring enough to venture away from the dark recesses of the underbed. Closer and closer it would step, its whiskers twitching with caution and its body tensed, until it was close enough to snatch the cheese, race back to its comfort zone, and snack on it there.

Aoyama proceeded to feed the mouse in the same manner for the next few days. Slowly but surely, it became so desensitized to his presence that it no longer bothered to hide after taking its share of cheese. Instead, it would happily munch on its snack right where Aoyama had placed it, its black eyes bright with delight.

No doubt about it, that hungry little critter adored Aoyama's cheese.

Aoyama always treasured the moments he could spend with his four-legged friend. He knew the mouse didn't have much awareness of anything besides its next meal, but to Aoyama, their friendship meant the world to him. Having something else to think about besides his downward spiral brought him the greatest of reliefs. His was still deep in his depression–there was a lot more that needed to be fixed that a tiny animal couldn't do–but thanks to the mouse, there were finally moments in his life where the emotional pain wasn't so overwhelming. He finally had a reason to get out of bed. He finally had the energy to take care of himself. He finally had something to do besides lay in bed all day and wallow in his self-deprecating misery.

Because he had his new friend to feed.

A week had passed since Aoyama first met the mouse. He went into his usual routine, sitting elegantly at the other side of the room as the mouse ate its fill of cheddar cheese underneath the bed frame.

I wonder if ma petite souris wants to explore the rest of the room, too?

Aoyama tilted his head, pondering the thought. He hadn't attempted to change the mouse's feeding spot because he didn't want to scare it away–the least he could do was respect its personal space. But since they were pretty used to each other at that point, perhaps his friend would enjoy branching out of its comfort zone?

His curiosity now piqued, Aoyama decided to wait for the mouse's next visit before giving his new method a shot. As the four-hour clock began to tick in his mind, he brought upstairs the rest of his brie cheese–the kind he assumed was the mouse's favorite considering it inhaled the brie faster than any other type of cheese. He then broke it apart and placed the bite-sized portions around the room like a trail of biscuits meant to tempt a starving dog.

He knew the ravenous little mouse wouldn't be able to resist the haven of cheese he'd created on the floor. And, soon enough, he was proven right. As he lounged on the top of his bed, his chin resting on the top of his fist, he saw for himself that the mouse had taken the bait and was eagerly carrying its tiny paws across the room to inhale as much cheese as it could.

"Ah!" How much that mouse warmed his dull heart! Aoyama didn't understand how he found it ugly when he first met it; any person with good tastes would say it was the cutest creature in existence.

Once the mouse ate every last scrap of floor cheese, it left. During its next visit, Aoyama let it roam the cheese-covered floor again. But there was a new idea forming in his head…since he and the mouse were so close together, what if he closed that distance literally?

What if he picked up the mouse?

Aoyama never would've expected that idea to cross his mind. Even to a boy who learned to like rodents, he was still very intimidated by the idea of touching them. Watching his friend from a distance was one thing, but actually picking it up and holding it was a whole new level of intimacy…he wasn’t sure if he was brave enough to do that.

But there was a small, incomprehensible part of him that very strongly desired to hold it despite being simultaneously terrified by the idea. He wanted to see its tiny mammalian body up close. He wanted to inspect its short brown fur and its bare mousey paws. He wanted to feel its tiny heart beating, its tiny lungs breathing, and its tiny body moving.

He wanted to feel close to someone.

Even so, he was still very reluctant to touch any sort of wild animal, even if it was his friend. So he compromised in a rather peculiar way: he found the pair of gloves he wore during the school festival and put them on his hands.

There. He no longer needed to worry about the many animal germs contaminating his body.

He was still quite nervous, though.

Aoyama waited for the mouse to reach the biggest chunk of brie in the center of the room. He hadn't planned that far out, but the convenient placement of the cheese meant it'd be harder for the mouse to escape along the wall. He stood above it for a short while, his tall shadow looming over the tiny creature, and mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do–face his fears in a way he’d never felt inclined to in his whole life…

Then, in a sudden spurt of courage, he swooped down, scooped up the unsuspecting creature, and lifted it up.

Aoyama was half-expecting the mouse to completely spaz out and convulse its tiny body to escape his grasp. But to his great surprise, the mouse was completely still, not moving a muscle as he kept it trapped underneath his cupped hands. A little light-headed from exhilaration, he lifted his hands closer to his face and–very cautiously–rose his free hand in the air so he could see underneath. But the uncovered mouse didn't react. It only stared at him with round eyes.

Aoyama gazed down at the mouse with pure adoration and affection.

“Ma petite souris…you like my cheese.”

It gazed back up at him.

How incredibly adorable.

There was no denying it–Aoyama had fallen in love with that little mouse. It was the reason why he was somewhat stable. It was the reason why he felt like his emotional turmoil wasn't endless. It was the reason why, after nearly a whole month of trudging through the deep trenches of depression, he could smile again.

Aoyama couldn't even begin to describe how delighted he was. When was the last time he felt such genuine happiness? It made him want to express his feelings.

He wanted to be closer to the mouse.

What he once feared had no effect on him right then. His heart racing so hard that he could hear it pumping in his ears, he bit onto his free hand's glove and ripped it off with a quick flick of his head.

Aoyama's eyes grew wide as he slowly reached his exposed hand to pet the mouse.

He was scared. He was nervous. But there was so much he wanted to do. He wanted to know what the mouse felt like. He wanted to run his fingertips through its fur–find out if it was rough and unpleasant or silky and soft like how he'd always imagined it to feel. He wanted to know what it was like to hold a living creature.

He wanted to feel a connection with something. He wanted to remember what it was like to touch someone. He wanted to fill the need that he was constantly starving for. He wanted to find the strength to make it another day without the love and care from another person–

Completely terrified, the mouse jolted out of his hand, colliding with the bare floor before scrabbling back to its paws and fleeing underneath the bed.

…Oh. Aoyama had scared the mouse. That was why it'd been so still–it was frozen in fear. The boy who was renowned for being intuitive and observant hadn't picked up on that in the slightest.

But Aoyama wasn't dismayed. How could he be dismayed when he felt so whole inside? There was a strong pull of affection in his chest and a healthy glow to his skin. He gazed affectionately towards the bottom of his bed.

No matter what terrible things had happened, were happening, and would happen again, he would always have his little animal friend.

I don't know what I would do without you, ma petite souris.

Filled with the joy of simply existing, Aoyama walked out of his room to prepare his next meal for the mouse.

-

The weather changed the next day.

Aoyama had woken up to the sound of light pattering outside. When he sluggishly left his bed and peeked through the closed curtains, he saw that it was indeed raining. It was long past the freezing months of winter, but the rain made everything feel colder and more distant.

Aoyama stood there for a few more moments, watching the droplets stream down his balcony door before returning to his bed.

Of course, the first thought on his mind was his little friend. It was still early in the morning, but it usually liked to show its fuzzy face around that time…

One look underneath his bed and Aoyama confirmed that it wasn't there.

Ah…maybe it’s running a little late today?

Even when he tried to cheer himself up, his face still drooped with the disappointment of not seeing his favorite guest. He thought that the rain might encourage it to stay in the confines of his dry, toasty room…

Oh, well. He’d just give it a big, warm welcome when it decided to show up.

But it never showed up. Aoyama gave it plenty of time to return, but he remained alone even when the usual timeframe of the mouse's appearance had long passed.

Aoyama was quickly getting concerned. His friend never took so long to visit…the insatiable creature would never pass up a chance to feast on more cheese.

It would never leave Aoyama like that.

Maybe he needed to investigate.

First, Aoyama gave his bed a thorough inspection, using his phone's flashlight to get a better look underneath. But the mouse didn't appear to be hiding anywhere–and even more worrisome, it hadn’t touched its morning cheese at all.

Then Aoyama tried crawling under his bed–not that he was very successful when his futon wasn't set that high above the ground. But he was still able to contort his body well enough that he could see inside of the mouse hole.

It was empty.

Aoyama got up with a disgruntled grimace.

For a fleeting second, a dreadful thought passed through his mind–perhaps he scared off the mouse after picking it up the other day. He didn't think so at the time…he really hoped he didn't.

The allure of cheese will surely bring it back, non?

Maybe Aoyama needed a new kind of cheese. Maybe his friend wanted to change up its usual routine with a new flavor added to the mix.

Aoyama hurried out of his room to see Tokoyami, Hagakure, Kaminari, and Sero talking in front of the shadow bird’s room.

On any other day, Aoyama wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Maybe say "bonjour" to the gang and add a little sparkle before continuing his way to the dorm room fridge.

It only took one word out of Tokoyami’s mouth for Aoyama to stop right in his tracks.

“The mice went into my room, too.”

Aoyama immediately changed course and sped towards the group.

“You’ve had mice visitors in your room as well, Tokoyami?”

They all looked at him.

“Oh no, so they reached your room, too?” Hagakure asked, her voice raised in disgust. “Mineta said the same thing. Apparently everyone on this floor had a mouse problem!”

…Had?

“Oui,” Aoyama said, not exactly loving the implications of the invisible girl's words. “There's one that often frequents my room.”

Hagakure made an exaggerated shiver. “Yuck, that’s so gross!”

“Good thing we brought it up to Aizawa when we did,” said Kaminari.

Aoyama couldn’t tell what that meant.

"You did?" Aoyama locked eyes with Kaminari, the electric boy looking too calm for a person who was talking about their mouse-infested home. It made Aoyama even more uneasy to see that his other classmates had the same neutral expression. “What did he say?”

Oh, Tokoyami. Aoyama didn’t mind the bird. He was quiet yet strong, never afraid to take action when needed, always willing to stand up for his friends–an admirable fellow indeed.

But his next words…

“He hired an exterminator.”

They broke Aoyama.

“Q-quoi?!” Aoyama exclaimed in a voice so distressed that he almost didn't recognize it as his own. He attempted to lower his volume without much success. “What do you mean, an exterminator?!”

Non. Non.

It can't be.

Hagakure gave him a playful nudge. “What do you think? They got rid of all the mice, ya silly!”

“How lucky it is that one of the refugees worked as an exterminator before the war,” Tokoyami added.

"They said it's all cleared up by now, thank goodness,” Sero said with a sigh of relief. “Using poison treats as bait was a pretty smart idea!”

Kaminari was nodding his head as the others spoke. “I'm sure Koda's gonna be really bummed about it when he finds out, but we already have enough problems as it is. We don’t need a mice infestation on top of the whole Deku thing."

Aoyama couldn’t take it.

Oh god. His breath–it was accelerating. Panic was racing through his brain in the form of words and phrases and feelings he couldn’t understand or process or control–

It couldn’t be true.

Aoyama’s only friend couldn’t be dead.

The echo of his parents’ wishes played in Aoyama's ears. He had to hide his feelings. He couldn’t reveal too much. He couldn’t give the slightest hint that he was a traitor.

But no matter how hard he tried to keep his facade, he couldn’t hide the shocked, heartbroken look on his face.

He wanted to shout. He wanted to cry. He wanted to block out every word he’d just heard. He wanted to pretend like none of it was true.

Aoyama's only friend during his dark times couldn’t be dead!

The others were looking at him. They were concerned. He could see it in their faces. It only made him panic more. He was showing too much emotion–he was being too obvious–he was giving too many hints that he was–

Pushed way past his limit, Aoyama suddenly bolted away from the group and ran into his dorm room. In the solidarity of his room, he could finally stop playing his part. In a loud, anguished voice, he wailed out the words that'd been trapped inside of his lungs.

“Non, non, non, non, non, non, non–”

Each word that passed through his lips was more emotional than the last, his heart violently torn apart as he was caught in the cycle of repeating the same phrase over and over. That string of words was a denial of the truth. A complete refusal to acknowledge the world as it was.

He didn't want to believe it. He absolutely didn’t. But when he dove towards the ground, his one hand clinging onto the bed frame like he was clinging onto an overhang before the steep plunge into darkness, he saw with his own eyes that the only thing underneath his bed was an untouched piece of brie cheese.

The mouse was gone. And it wasn't coming back.

Aoyama couldn’t slow down his heavy gasps of despair, his eyesight blurring with tears.

It shouldn't have been such a big deal. All that had happened was that an insignificant pest had died–but for some reason, that insignificant death made Aoyama feel more hopeless than ever before. It hadn't even been that bad when he was at the height of his depression…or when he first entered his pit of despair the day he read Midoriya's letter.

Aoyama's feelings right then were far worse. Every emotion was hitting him at once, and it was too much to handle. The ground he stood on was crumbling apart by the second, and he had nothing to support him underneath.

Even though he didn’t think the mouse had anything to do with that. It was just a mouse.

So then why was he sobbing so hard over it?

What a pathetic mess he was. Aoyama wasn’t just crying out of his eyes anymore–his grief was just as audible as it was visible, an ugly caterwauling of gasps and chokes and babbles and sounds he couldn't even describe. Pushing down his feelings only made them force their way out even harder, his tears beginning to mix with leaking snot from his nostrils in an unflattering downpour.

He couldn't stop crying. He couldn't stop his misery. It wouldn't cease.

All of that…because of a dead mouse?

God, what an exaggerated response for something so trivial. It made him feel even more despicable towards himself. He was so pathetic! A miserable baby who only felt sorry for himself! A waste of a hero course student who could never face his fears and save himself! An abhorrent miscreant who'd done nothing for the good of society! A filthy villain who was rotten to the core!

Aoyama's onslaught of emotions was overwhelming and confusing. He couldn’t make sense of why he was so upset over something he normally would've brushed over. His thoughts were too frantic to comprehend–but his feelings were apparent. It was like a sudden awakening of everything he was trying to bury. And for the longest time, he'd been successful with his burying…all thanks to the little mouse.

Then his thoughts began to make sense.

The mouse had meant more to Aoyama than some random animal. It was his friend. It gave him the strength to smile again. It was his lifeline as he drowned in the depths of the ocean.

Aoyama had put aside his usual doubts because of the mouse. He'd mistakenly begun to believe that his life could one day get better.

But no matter how much he had tried to delude himself, he was only let down in the end. His only friend was dead, and he was just as miserable as before.

Aoyama’s life would never get better.

Nothing would ever change.

-

Aoyama spent a long time sobbing on the ground. Every time he tried to stop his tears, he'd only end up crying even harder–an endless cycle of misery he couldn't escape from. But after putting in every effort to control himself, he finally put an end to his tears, slowing down his hyperventilating and wiping his sore, puffy eyes.

Then, with a deep breath, he stood up, a strand of hair falling out of place as he did.

Aoyama looked in front of him. There was his bed. The place he'd been sleeping in.

Then he looked behind him.

He took in everything. The clothes thrown on the ground so carelessly. The cups multiplying on his desk. The trash pile growing by the day. The misplaced sleeping cap buried somewhere he couldn’t remember. The crooked mirrors hanging on his walls. The covered photograph looming above his bed. The dark atmosphere void of a single sparkle. The empty cheese plates neatly lined up on his desk.

That was the life he'd been living. His room was the physical manifestation of his downward spiral.

But there was more to it than that. It wasn't just the physical room–it was a state of mind.

He could picture it clearly: a dark, dreary world he'd been feeling his way through. He'd been blind as a bat and lost as he could be–with no choice but to navigate his depression without help.

For a moment of time, he had help. He had the support he needed in the form of a little mouse snacking on his cheese.

Aoyama stared in front of him, his eyes out-of-focus and his expression flat.

He was only resuming his journey towards the depths of Tartarus.

The rain continued to pour as Aoyama fell back into bed and tried to sleep.