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Midoriya was tired. It was more than that; a bone deep weariness that slowly ate at his everything. He was trying, he really was, but there was something so exhausting about the smallest of movements, about just existing. Simply standing up was a chore and the mere thought of doing anything felt as if it took a year off his lifespan. Considering the fact that quirkless people rarely made it past thirty, he'd run out of the dregs of energy remaining far too quickly.
Aizawa was the first to notice this change. He'd pulled him aside after a particularly bad lesson and, with a voice soft enough to send him to sleep, calmly asked about what was bothering him. Midoriya’s mother hadn't even noticed, and the fact that a teacher, one of a group of people who'd taken great joy in tormenting him in the past, could be bothered to worry about him was more than enough for the teenager to burst into tears, breaking down in front of the hero as his painstakingly crafted shell fell apart around him.
Aizawa had listened to him as he rambled on, gently resting a hand on his back as the student sobbed violently. He offered smooth murmurs of reassurance, silky sentences of pure support with the unadulterated intention to aid.
Over three hours later Midoriya'd awoken in his teacher's arms, cradled cozily like a fragile kitten, and for the first time in so, so long, he'd felt loved.
The second person to notice was Iida. It wasn't that surprising, in hindsight, as the boy knew grief far too well for a child. Iida had knocked on his dorm room's door and, when Midoriya couldn't bring himself to open it, had exchanged notes with him under the aforementioned door, adding little expressive scribbles of faces in a successful attempt to cheer Midoriya up. He'd sat there, for an hour or so, his vast collection of pens worn down by continuous use.
Midoriya had cried that day, simply from how nice Iida was, and when he'd finally opened the door, eyes reddened and sore, Iida had opened his arms wide. Just opened his arms, standing amongst the plethora of used paper littered on the floor with untidy hiragana and meaningless doodles, and Midoriya had collapsed into him, exhausted and emotional, and Iida was there, rubbing soothing circles into the back of his shirt as the wet patch on his own grew.
When Midoriya had finally collected himself, Iida had accompanied him down to the kitchen and made some quick microwaved katsudon, sitting with Midoriya as they both ate, sharing pictures of his brother's cat doing stupid things and softly smiling at the wet laughs he was given in return.
Midoriya slept well on a small collection of bean bags that night, safely tucked in Iida's arms as they lost themselves to restful unconsciousness.
The next time Midoriya found himself lying in bed staring lifelessly at his phone, eyes filled with unshed tears and clutching at a pillow as if it were his lifeline, Uraraka had practically kicked his door down, a blanket in one hand and a selection of films all labeled 'Happy endings'. As it turned out, the student had collected every cheerful and wholesome film she could find just for Midoriya. As soon as he'd figured it out, he burst into tears, profusely thanking his friend in the safety of their blanket fort.
Not only had Uraraka brought blankets and films, but she also pulled out a notebook that Midoriya didn't recognise. He opened it and felt his mouth drop open slightly. Flicking through the pages, he discovered autograph after autograph of heroes he'd always wanted to meet; almost all of them including a personalised message from Uraraka. His heart physically hurt from how wanted he'd felt at that moment and he swore the world seemed brighter.
After one too many bad encounters with Bakugou, which resulted in violence, Midoriya simply didn't have the energy to get back up after the boy had punched him in the face. He lay there for five, ten minutes, in a body that wasn't his own, gazing at the wall in a half-aware state.
That was how Todoroki found him. The student who'd been through too much for a child gently picked him up, running a hand through his hair and slowly walking towards the nurse's office, cautiously depositing him on, arguably, the softest bed in the room.
He waited until Midoriya was Midoriya again, offering the simplicity of silence and company. Using his quirk, he'd carefully cooled the teenager's bruises with a promise to stop Bakugou sooner next time, to stop him from suffering, to always be there to help him up again.
Midoriya, ever the emotional, sobbed wordlessly into his shoulder, digging his fingers into the other’s blazer and tugging him closer as he felt the tears from Todoroki soak into his own shirt in some kind of painfully perfect parallel. They stayed like that, cocooned in each other's presence peacefully, just being.
Shinsou had taken a single look at the depression-fueled mess that filled Midoriya’s room and forced him, not unkindly, to meet his new cat.
The feline, pure black in colour with the strangest 'meow' the teenager had ever heard, was more than thrilled to meet Midoriya, and Shinsou had offered the hero student a deal. For every five items on the floor that Midoriya picked up, he'd get a picture of the cat, who Shinsou named Hecate, sleeping in a strange place. Every time Midoriya asked for help when he needed it, he'd be allowed to feed Hecate three treats and every time Midoriya felt as if he needed a hug, he'd be allowed to head over to Shinsou's dorm and either cuddle with the human or the cat.
Midoriya was tired, yes, but he knew he had people who were there for him. People who loved him, and cared about him, and that got him through the bone deep weariness that slowly ate at his everything, the pure exhaustion weighing down on him, because he wasn't alone.
For the first time in his life he was held by the brightest stars in the sky, and he held them back.