Work Text:
Izuku wasn’t sure when this particular habit started. He’d guess it was probably around middle school. Back when he dabbled in online forums filled with quirkless people. Back when he, himself, indulged in this unsavory habit. He was lucky his mom had found out before he got too deep into it. Before he got dependent like he’d heard of others becoming.
He shook his head to try and jolt himself out of his mind, attempting to focus on the board. Attempting not to notice that Aizawas sleeve had ridden up, exposing wounds that were slightly too symmetrical for them to be because of a patrol. It wasn’t his business, and he probably couldn’t do anything to help Aizawa. Izuku rubbed his eyes, attempting to stop looking at Aizawas’s arm. Where was he? Right, the habit. The habit of staring at any and all exposed skin, scanning it for injuries, remembering the injuries, figuring out their cause. Looking at the arms of his peers whenever he felt unsure of how they were doing, the anxiety upon realizing he hasn’t seen enough of someone to make sure they’re alright. And the fear that seeing self-harm strikes into him.
The first person he noticed self-harm was Kachan. He’d been unsure of himself, at first, when he spotted the burn marks on his wrists. Kachan wouldn’t hurt himself, right? He’s strong, unlike Izuku. Yet, the burn marks kept reappearing, and Izuku got scared. He decided to leave a letter at the Bakugo residence, asking if Kachan had trouble controlling his quirk, with a mention of the mark. He’d hoped that phrasing it that way would get Kachan to stop. And it did, at least as far as Izuku knew. The last time he’d snuck a glance at Bakugo in the changing room he’d only seen the faded old ones and nothing that seemed even slightly recent.
He’d been happy to help. He always was. He’d done the same thing when he noticed Kaminari pulling out strands of hair when stressed, innocently asking if it had something to do with his quirk, and offering him a fidget toy. He kept them with him now, just in case anyone else needed them.
“Midoriya?” A voice called.
Izuku flinched back in his chair, twisting to face the person who called him. Ah, Aizawa.
“Uh- yes, sir?” Izuku replied, his voice an octave higher than he’d like it to be.
“Class is over. You seemed pretty out of it. Are you alright?”
“I am! I just didn’t get enough sleep last night.” Izuku squeaked, twisting to face the door before hesitating.
“Sir, I, uh-“ Izuku cut himself off.
“Yes, Midoriya?” Aizawa questioned, raising an eyebrow at the boy.
“Actually- never mind. I’ll see you!” Izuku called, practically running out the door. What was he thinking?? He couldn’t just ask someone about their cuts. That’d only cause them to hide it better. At least, that’s what he’d done after the bullies called him out on the cuts.
And Aizawa seems to be smart enough to hide his self-harm, too. So why was it on his wrist? Izuku distractedly started walking slower. Maybe it’s a hidden in plain sight thing? No child would question their hero teacher about injuries, and most other heroes would just assume they’re work-related. So Aizawa doesn’t need to hide them. Izuku nodded to himself; that seemed like a sound theory.
Once he reached the cafeteria, Izuku snagged a bowl of soba before plopping down at his friend’s table, letting the easy conversation flow through him.
——————
After Izuku noticed the cuts on Aizawa for the first time, he started watching the man more closely. He never really meant to, but his eyes just kept drifting to the hero. It made sense, to some extent. It made Izuku endlessly anxious when people were hurting themselves and he couldn’t help, and since he wasn’t entirely sure Aizawa was, he was stuck in waiting mode. Thus far he’s seen the too-symmetrical cuts on his arm, that one time he pressed his fingers into his hip and hissed slightly when the class got overly rowdy, and the way Eraser seems a bit too obsessed with pulling on his sleeves.
Izuku sighed, closing the book he’d been attempting to read during the free hour. Not like he could focus on the book anyway. Uraraka shot him a questioning look, and Izuku just smiled at her, grabbing his backpack so he could get out some worksheets. If he was gonna be stuck in here, he might as well attempt to get some actual work done. Once he’d gotten his worksheets and pen, his gaze shifted over to where Aizawa was sitting at his desk, grading the essays the class had submitted this morning. Izuku carefully watched the arm Aizawa was using to support his head, glancing at the edge of the sleeve and attempting to catch the skin beneath it. He blinked in surprise when he realized Aizawa was wearing a skin-tight black shirt underneath his hero costume, effectively blocking the skin of his arm from view. Izuku cursed to himself. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions. He also didn’t want his teacher to cut himself! And at this rate, it seemed like he does. But what could Izuku do? It won’t be as easy as it was with Kaminari and Bakugo, and if Izuku called Aizawa out on it he would probably just hide it better and feel ashamed. He could tell a teacher, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust them with the information. After all, they hadn’t noticed yet. And he knew the teachers here were supposed to be better, are better, than his old ones. But the thought of telling them something like this filled him with dread.
But, Aizawa cared for his students right? Cared for him? So, maybe, if Aizawa thought he was helping Izuku, he might end up helping himself too. So what if Izuku just… made Aizawa believe he was hurting himself? So Aizawa would reflect and try to figure out how to get someone to stop, and maybe stop himself in the process? If that didn’t work, he’d have to tell a teacher, but for now, it might work out. He hoped it would. It had to.
——————
Izuku sat in his room, a razor blade in his hand, the razor he broke open to obtain is next to him on his bed. Vaguely, he realized this was probably a bad idea, but he didn’t care. After all, what was a little pain to him when it’d help his teacher? His pain did not matter. He was a hero. He held the knife to the inside of his upper arm. He’d already planned the excuses he’d make to his classmates if they noticed. His hero costume and school uniform cover his arms entirely, and the UA gym uniform coveres his upper arms just enough where someone with trained eyes would spot the cuts, but only when looking. And if Aizawa was at all like him, he’d notice. And his classmates hopefully wouldn’t.
For the first time in his life, he was happy with the scars from middle school. It’d add a lot of validity to his story to have old scars. He’d tell Aizawa he felt guilty for the death of Nighteye, and for Iida getting hurt because he didn’t save him fast enough. Anything he thought the teacher was struggling with.
Izuku took a breath and dug the knife in, pulling it down. His world narrowed down to the sensation. He pulled it again. And again. And again. Again again again again again. Blood trickled down his arm in a warm stream. He blinked sluggishly and smiled to himself. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed doing this. How good it felt. He took a shuttering breath. He wasn’t doing this for himself. He was doing this to help Aizawa.
He reached over to the pile of tissues on his bed, holding them against the sluggishly bleeding cuts on his inner arm. He wasn’t planning on bandaging them, as they had gym tomorrow, and bandages would make his classmates more suspicious. The cuts would have to be just noticeable enough for Aizawa, but no one else. He sighed.
Tomorrow was going to be a hell of a day.
——————
Izuku quickly changed into his gym uniform, careful to keep his left upper arm pressed against his body to hide the cuts. At this point, he was starting to regret his stupid plan. But he’d already started, so he might as well go through with it at this point.
“Midoriya, are you coming?” Iida asked, chopping his arm.
“Oh, yeah, right. I zoned out for a second there, I’m kinda tired.” Izuku replied, hoping his voice sounded reassuring.
“All right. Make sure to get enough sleep in the future, then.” Iida said, walking out the door. Izuku hurried after him.
——————
Gym was normal enough, although Izuku paid special attention to twisting his body away from his classmates in a way where they wouldn’t see his arm. Luckily, they were just playing a game of quirked soccer, so he wasn’t required to lift his arms. At some point during class, he’d even forgotten he was supposed to hide his arm, getting so involved in the game.
“Uraraka, here, I’m free!” Izuku yelled, bouncing on his feet.
Uraraka looked over and shot the ball which gravity she’d removed over in his direction, and Izuku caught it before using one for all to kick it into the goal. Kirishima just barely missed it, and Izuku cheered along with his team, throwing his hands up into the air.
“Nice one, Deku!” Mina shouted, giving him a high five.
As the cheering died down, and everyone got back into position, Izuku looked over to find Aizawa staring at him, his gaze devoid of the usual fondness and eyebrows furrowed. Izuku quickly looked away, ignoring the chill going down his spine at the sight. This was for his own best will.
As gym class ended, Izuku hurried back into the locker room, attempting to ignore the cold expression on Aizawa’s face. It was fine! Everything was going to plan.
He quickly changed as he fell into a comfortable conversation with Todoroki about a new romance drama that had aired earlier that week. Izuku had been delighted to learn the dual-haired boy was just as into the dramas as he was.
The pair went into the cafeteria together, meeting up with the rest of the Deku squad and sitting down at their usual table. He let the easy conversation flow between them, ignoring how the hair on the back of his neck was standing up and the jumpy feeling that came along with it.
——————
Izuku attempted to pay attention to these midday classes but failed. He was too worked up, too busy anticipating Aizawa’s reaction. As the day drew to an end and he entered homeroom as the final class of the day, Izuku sat down and stared at his desk, fidgeting with a loose tread on his sleeve. Aizawa just instructed them to work on any homework, so Izuku pulled out the worksheets Mic had handed him during English class, which he couldn’t focus on hard enough to finish. He doubted he could now, but that was okay. He just needed to appear busy and distracted. Needed to get the feeling he was being watched out of his system.
Homeroom seemed to fly by as Izuku numbly stared at the worksheet. He was overly aware of the eyes on him but tried to ignore them. It was okay, he was okay. The bell rang and snapped Izuku out of his thoughts, causing him to flinch. He tried very hard to pretend like he didn’t notice Aizawa’s eyes snap to him.
As he got up and started shoving his papers into his bag, not caring if they got crinkled. He vaguely heard Uraraka call his name, and his eyes snapped his eyes up at her, attempting not to recoil.
“Uh, yeah, sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Izuku said to Uraraka, smiling at her.
“No worries! I was just asking if you wanted to go over the art project with me.” Uraraka replied, returning his smile.
“Uh, sure. I have time.” Izuku slung his backpack over his bag and stood up from his table, waiting for the fated words-
“Problem child. Stay after class, please.” Aizawa called, looking as disinterested and tired as always. If you didn’t know where to look. Because Izuku saw how his wrist was pressing into the table a bit too hard to be comfortable. Especially with the cuts.
Izuku snapped his eyes away from Aizawa’s wrist and was keenly aware of his eyes tracking his. “Uh, alright sir.” He twisted to face Uraraka. “Go ahead without me, I’ll catch up to you!”
“Sure, see you later Deku!” Uraraka called, waving as she hurried after the rest of the friend group.
Suddenly, Izuku was left standing in an empty classroom with Aizawa, the faint humming of the overhead lights the only sound filling the room.
“Soo, sensei, you wanted to see me. Was there something wrong with a project I submitted?” Izuku said, feigning ignorance.
“No, it was alright. Come sit down.” Aizawa said, motioning to the space across from him.
Izuku gulped nervously, pulling out a chair and sitting down, looking everywhere but at Aizawa.
“How’ve you been doing Midoriya?” Aizawa asked, putting his arms on his desk.
“I’ve been alright.” Izuku replied, fidgeting with his shirt.
“Are you sure? You seemed quite out of it today.” Aizawa replied, his eyes piercing trough him.
“Ah, I just didn’t get enough sleep last night. But I’m okay, I promise.”
Aizawa looked at Izuku sternly before speaking up, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Look, Midoriya. I saw your arm during gym today. I want you to know that UA has mental health services available for students at all times. I can send hound dog an email to set up an appointment between the two of you. I do feel like it’s important for you to know that I am a mandated reporter, so Nedzu will be informed of this, and so will your mom.”
Izuku looked at Aizawa, feeling like his chest was about to explode. This wasn’t- he hadn’t wanted this. He’d wanted to help Aizawa, not bother everyone! And he’d promised his mom he’d stopped, and he had so why-
“Aizawa, please, you have to believe me, but i didn’t do this to hurt myself,” Aizawa raised an eyebrow, “I did it because I wanted to help- uh.” Izuku’s eyes flashed to Aizawa’s wrist, and when he looked at Aizawa’s face again he saw a look of horror dawn on him.
Aizawa reached over the table to take a hold of Izuku’s hands. “You did this- because you thought it’d help me?”
Now that Izuku heared it said to him, it sounded nowhere near as logical as it had last night. “Uh, I- I guess. I just, I noticed the cuts on your arms and then I started seeing all these things and I thought that if you had to help me you’d reach out yourself?” Izuku’s voice got smaller as he talked, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Oh, Midoriya. My well being is not your responsibility. I am an adult, and I can take care of myself. I am taking care of myself.” Aizawa looked into Izuku’s eyes as he talked, attempting to drive the message home. “It’s never your responsibility to take care of me. And it is my responsibility to take care of you.”
Izuku bit back a sob. “I- just- please don’t tell my mom? I know this is bad and stuff but I just-” Izuku sobbed and curled into himself. “I just wanted to help.”
Aizawa felt his heart melt at the admission. “I know, Izuku. I’ll talk to Nedzu and see what we can do. For now, do you want me to walk you to recovery girl?”
Izuku nodded, standing up from the chair and leaning against Aizawa throughout the walk to recovery girls office, Aizawa’s arm slung over his shoulder.
And maybe, it’ll be okay.