Work Text:
Izuku sat on the dining table, staring at nothing while eating his breakfast, a hell of thoughts running through his exhausted mind.
It's Sunday morning. He has been here, in his teacher's apartment, for about a day and a half. And although it's not much, much happened.
The talk with Nezu and Tsukauchi exhausted him, the thoughts, the lack of sleep, the number of times he cried himself to exhaustion the past few hours, and today was just the cherry on top; they're going to pick up his belongings from.... What should he call it now? The other apartment?
Lucky enough, it's a weekend, so he didn't need to go to school after everything that just happened. Yeah, how lucky he is that his mom abandoned him on a weekend night.
Though he probably deserves it. He must've done something wrong. He always does.
"Are you done, kid?"
Izuku lifted his eyes slowly, noticing his sensei talking to him but not registering what he said.
"Huh? I'm sorry, I—what did you say?"
"I'm asking if you finished your food." Came with a hand sinking into his hair. Izuku didn't flinch, he didn't. He just... shivered a bit too hard, unused to the touch, but not hating it nonetheless. He doesn't deserve this gentleness.
"I'm about to. Sorry, I'll hurry up." He said, focusing his gaze on Aizawa's. "I'll be ready in ten. I promise I won't take long."
"It's okay, take your time." Came the response.
Aizawa disappeared back into his bedroom and left Izuku to his thoughts once more. So, they're going there, to the place that he lived his whole life in, to the place his mom walked out on him in.
His chest tightened with bitterness. Is he that... minor... unimportant... useless... unlovable? Does he deserve anything in his miserable life? Does he even deserve a life? Does he deserve his teacher's kindness?
He left his plate half full. He can't make himself eat more, his stomach is already in knots, put his plate in the kitchen, and went to the bathroom to wash his hands and mouth, then headed to the door, waiting for his teacher. He stood there fidgeting, picking at his cuticles nervously.
Aizawa appeared two minutes later wearing a pair of black jeans, a puffy black jacket and a grey scarf, almost identical to his capture weapon. In his hand was a similar jacket which he handed to Izuku.
"Put this on, Izuku. It's cold. I don't even know how you managed to come here without a coat in the first place."
"Oh... it's okay. I'm used to the cold. You don't have to—" Izuku said with a voice so worked up from crying.
"Jacket, Izuku."
And that was his signal not to argue more. "Sorry," he mumbled. So he took the oversized jacket and slid into it, working the zipper halfway up to his chest. They stepped out of the apartment just to be hit by a chilling breeze that didn't really affect Izuku since he felt frozen from the inside out anyway. Aizawa closed the door after them with a soft click, then led the way to the garage.
There stayed Aizawa's car. Black, super traditional, except for the black-tinted glass that hid its inside. His teacher unlocked the car and opened the door for Izuku, urging him in, before he took his seat behind the driving wheel.
"Put your seatbelt on, please." His teacher said.
Izuku followed and buckled up as they drove out of the garage and immediately turned his tired eyes to the window.
Streets and buildings went by, Izuku watching them with an empty gaze, until they passed by a park. People were heading in. Kids, with their parents. Families, all smiling and laughing out loud, and the park seemed so big and spacious it could hold all the joy in the world. But Izuku, his chest felt so tight it couldn't even hold on to dear life.
His eyes are stinging, his back and sides itching, and he is feeling his heart squeezing out of his chest. He is trying so hard not to cry, not to let that sob break out of him. He cried a lot yesterday, his teacher saw him crying enough. He's already been too much trouble. He's not allowed to cry in the first place; he has never been in his home.
His thoughts didn't help him as an influx flooded his mind.
"If you want to cry then cry in your room. I don't want to hear your annoying voice."
Stop.
"Oh yeah? If you don't stop, I'll give you something to cry about."
Stop. Make it stop.
"All of that for attention? You won't get it anyway."
Don't think about it. Stop. You don't want to cry again. You're already being a burden.
"Izuku?"
His teacher's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned his head slowly to look at the man, wishing that there are no tears evident on his face.
"Yes, Aizawa-sensei? I'm sorry, I was—did you need something?"
"We're here."
"Oh... okay. Sorry." Izuku moved to unbuckle his seatbelt to get out of the car, hands fumbling with the clasp.
"Izuku."
"Yes, Sensei? I'm sorry, am I—did I do something wrong?"
Izuku saw his teacher's eyes soften just a bit before he continued.
"Are you ready? Do you want more time?"
"I—yes! I mean, we're just going to grab my things, right? I'll be quick, I promise. I won't take long." The words tumbled out in a rush.
Now Aizawa's eyes softened more before saying, "Well, yes. But do you realize that this may be the last time you come here?"
And what an idiot. He never thought of that, and it didn't make him any better as the stinging of his eyes grew worse. Of course he didn't think about it. He never thinks about anything important. No wonder she left.
"Um... no, not really. I'm sorry, I should've—I didn't mean to—"
"Okay, it's fine. Just... Take your time. You don't have to rush this, okay?" His teacher said as he reached a hand to stroke Izuku's hair. And oh, didn't this make him want to cry more? To just curl around himself and never get out of the car. He doesn't deserve this kindness.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, voice breaking slightly. "I'm ready," he said as he reached a hand to open the door, his teacher unbuckling his seatbelt before following him as well.
The cold air makes Izuku freeze even more as he stands in front of the apartment complex, and if the tears start running down his cheeks, he could blame it on the cold air. He felt the cold creeping inside his chest gradually, not the weather, though.
This is his fault. All of it. If he'd been better, quieter, less trouble—
He stood in place for what felt like an eternity before he felt a hand on his shoulder, his teacher's thumb rubbing circles.
"I'm with you in this, kid. It's okay."
Izuku smiled faintly at his teacher—he doesn't deserve this, he doesn't—before taking shaking steps toward the entrance and eventually got into the elevator, holding the door open for the older man who stepped in behind his heels. Izuku's finger found the eighth button easily, and they settled in silence until they heard the small "ding" sound, indicating they were on their destined floor.
They stepped to the apartment, Izuku easily found the key in his pocket and shakily tried to fit it in the door. His hands were trembling so badly it took several attempts.
"Sorry, I'm sorry, I just—give me a second—" he muttered under his breath, feeling heat creep up his neck in embarrassment.
It was in eventually, even though it took an embarrassingly long time. He opened the door, stepped in, and got to the side to allow his teacher in too. And although it was remarkably warmer inside, Izuku felt nothing but the cold completely taking over him.
The apartment was as usual as ever; except he noticed the lack of his mom's belongings immediately. Her slippers aren't by the door, nor are her keys, coat, and purse.
She really left. She really—
He caught himself staring in silence before he immediately forced himself to move, anxiety spiking. He's wasting his teacher's time.
"Sorry, I got distracted. Um... I'll start with my room. I don't have much around the apartment, so it should be quick. It won't take long, I promise. I'll be really fast."
"Okay. You can take as long as you want, though." Aizawa hummed in response. "I can help if you need."
"N-no! I mean—it's not necessary. You've already done so much, I don't want to—I can handle it by myself. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—" Izuku spluttered out quickly, the words tripping over themselves before he headed towards his room, leaving his teacher behind.
___________
It's been about an hour since Izuku started closing the second suitcase containing his clothes. Pretty much everything could fit inside, including all his clothes for summer and winter and his school uniforms. The school supplies were packed into the backpack neatly.
He kept second-guessing everything. Was he packing too much? Would it all fit in Aizawa-sensei's apartment? Would it be in the way? Maybe he should leave more behind—
He then turned to look at all the All Might merch that decorated his walls and shelves; he turned to look at his stacked hero analysis notebooks, and he felt the same bitterness from earlier bubble its way up his chest and throat.
He wasn't sure if he was there anymore. The kid who worshiped heroes, the bright mind that analyzed all their quirks, and the passion that fueled him through everything until now. He debated with himself about taking all these things with him.
What was the point? He'd just mess everything up again anyway. He always did.
He just stood there, staring, tears running down his face; confusion took over his mind, and he just couldn't make himself move. He was scared to take them, to try to put his life together again, and then watch it all come down again. He was also scared of leaving them and letting go of who he is, of losing himself to his thoughts and not having the things that brought him comfort.
Well, can they still provide him comfort? Does he deserve comfort?
He felt his teacher walk up to him, checking on him, he said.
"I'm almost finished," Izuku said quickly once he saw his teacher, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I'm just going to take my laptop and headphones and we're good to go. I'm sorry it's taking so long—"
"These are your things?" Aizawa said, cocking an eyebrow, and Izuku felt the fear in his chest spike.
"Ah... I just took the necessities. T-They'll fit in the closet. They won't take up much space, I promise. Or actually, I can leave some behind if—if it's too much. I'm sorry, I know I'm already—you're already doing so much for me, I don't want to—"
"Izuku, stop."
Izuku shut his mouth with an audible click, his whole body tensing, bracing himself. Here it comes. He took too long. He's being too much trouble. Of course.
"I'm asking why you are leaving all of this," Aizawa said as he gestured to all the merch that decorated the room.
Izuku was taken by surprise at first before he managed to talk, voice small. "I... I don't want to take much space. You're already—I'm already enough of a burden without bringing all my stuff and—and I know it's a lot and I'm sorry, I just thought—"
"You're not a burden, Izuku."
And that, that broke something in him. The careful control he'd been keeping over his emotions shattered like glass, and suddenly he couldn't breathe past the sob that tore from his chest. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, hands coming up to cover his face as the tears came like a waterfall.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" he gasped out between sobs, his whole body shaking. "I didn't mean to—I'm trying not to be—I know I'm too much, I know, I'm sorry—"
He felt his teacher kneel beside him, visible only in his peripheral vision as tears almost blocked his whole sight, and then there was a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay, kid." Aizawa's voice was soft, so gentle that made Izuku cry harder. "Breathe for me, Izuku. Just breathe."
"I can't—I'm sorry, I can't stop, I'm sorry—"
"You don't have to stop. It's okay to cry." The hand on his back kept moving in those steady circles, grounding him. "You're going through a lot right now. More than most adults could handle. It's okay to not be okay."
Izuku shook his head frantically, curling in on himself, his curls falling into his blurry eyes. "But I—I keep crying and I'm—I'm being so much trouble and you shouldn't have to—"
"Izuku." Aizawa's other hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Look at me. Can you do that?"
It took him great effort, but Izuku slowly lowered his hands and turned his tear-stained face toward his teacher. Aizawa's expression was impossibly soft, so patient, so understanding it made Izuku's chest ache, his back and sides tingling again.
"Listen to me carefully, okay?" Aizawa said, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on Izuku's shoulder. "You are not a burden. You are not too much. You are a kid who's been hurt, and you deserve to take up space. You deserve to have your things around you. You deserve to feel at home."
"But—"
"My home is your home now," Aizawa cut him, not unkind. "That means you get to bring everything that's yours. Every poster, every notebook, every single piece of All Might merchandise in this room. If it matters to you, it comes with us. Understood?"
Izuku stared at him, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "I don't... I can't..."
"Can't what?"
"I can't believe that" he whispered, voice breaking. "I want to, but I—what if I mess up? What if I do something wrong and you—" He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't say his deepest fear out loud, couldn’t imagine to go through this all again.
Aizawa's hand moved from his shoulder to his hair, fingers carding through the green curls slowly. "Then I'll tell you this every single day until you do believe it. However many times it takes. I'm not going anywhere, Izuku. You're stuck with me now."
"Every day?" Izuku asked, voice small and disbelieving.
"Every single day." Aizawa's hand continued its gentle path through his hair. "As many times as you need to hear it. You're not alone anymore, kid. And you're allowed to take up space in your own home."
Izuku let out a shuddering breath, leaning slightly into the touch without thinking much about it. His teacher didn't pull away, just kept up those gentle, grounding movements.
They sat like that for a while, Izuku's breathing slowly evening out as Aizawa's hand remained steady in his hair, the other still rubbing circles on his back. The apartment was quiet around them, but it didn't feel suffocating anymore. Not with his teacher here.
"Okay," Izuku finally whispered. "Okay."
"Good." Aizawa gave his hair one last ruffle before standing, offering a hand to help him up. "Now, let's get the rest of your things packed up. And I mean all of it."
___________
It took another two hours to pack everything.
Aizawa moved around the room efficiently, carefully taking down posters and wrapping figurines in spare clothes to keep them safe. He didn't comment on the sheer amount of All Might merchandise, just packed it all while Izuku gathered his hero analysis notebooks.
"These go in the box too," Aizawa said, holding up a stack of notebooks Izuku had hesitated over. "All of them."
"But there's so many…."
"All of them, Izuku." His teacher's tone left no room for argument, but it was gentle. And Izuku followed, almost feeling the guilt and the Ineligibility back. They worked together, Aizawa occasionally asking where Izuku wanted certain things packed, or if he wanted his posters rolled or folded until every thing was backed up.
They carried the boxes down to the car together, Aizawa's hand resting on Izuku's shoulder in the elevator, and if Izuku leaned into the touch more than earlier, he’ll blame it on the exhaustion. Trip after trip, the car was packed full and Izuku's room kept getting emptier until there was one box remaining. The last one, sitting in the middle of the empty bedroom floor. Holding his most precious things; the notebooks from his earliest hero analysis attempts, photos from before everything got bad, the All Might figure his dad gave him before he left. Things Izuku didn’t know what to feel about at the moment, but felt too important to be casual nonetheless.
Izuku stood in the doorway, staring at that final box, at the empty walls around it. This room had been his whole world once. It had been his sanctuary and his prison, the place where he'd dreamed of being a hero and the place where he'd learned to make himself small.
He stepped inside slowly, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. The afternoon light slanted through the window, painting everything in shades of gold that felt wrong, too warm for how cold he felt inside.
His fingers traced the wall where his favorite All Might poster had hung, the paint slightly darker there from years of being covered. He'd put it up when he was six, standing on his desk chair while his mom spotted him, both of them laughing when it went up crooked and they had to adjust it three times.
When had she stopped laughing with him?
Izuku closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath.
"Goodbye," he whispered to the empty room, to the ghost of who he used to be, to the remnants of his past life, to every dream he'd had in this space. "Thank you for... for keeping me safe when you could."
His hand fell away from the wall. He picked up the last box, not too heavy, but precious in a way that made his hands shake slightly, and turned toward the door where Aizawa waited.
His teacher's expression was understanding, patient. He didn't rush him, just stood there as Izuku took one last look at the empty apartment, carving what he could into his memory.
"Ready?" Aizawa asked softly.
Izuku nodded, not trusting his voice.
They walked out together, Izuku pulling the door closed behind him with a quiet click that felt… final. He stood in front of the elevator, taking in the hallway before stepping in. His teacher's hand came to rest on the back of his neck, grounding him as they descended.
___________
The drive back was quieter than the drive there, the voices in Izuku’s head became mild as the car cut through the streets.
Izuku took his seat, the last box on his lap, and watched the city pass by outside the window. The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in oranges and pinks that reflected off the buildings.
They passed the park again. It was emptier now, just a few heading home as the temperature dropped. Izuku watched a father lift his daughter onto his shoulders, both of them laughing about something Izuku couldn't hear through the glass. His chest didn't feel quite as tight this time.
"You did well today," Aizawa said, breaking the comfortable silence. His eyes stayed on the road, but Izuku could see the softness in his expression. "I know that wasn't easy."
"I cried a lot…" Izuku mumbled, feeling embarrassed.
"You're allowed to cry." Aizawa's hand left the steering wheel briefly to ruffle Izuku's hair before returning. "Especially on days like today. You don't have to apologize for having feelings, kid."
Izuku bit his lip, ducking his head down. "Thank you," he said quietly. "For... for everything. For coming with me. For helping pack. For…" his voice cracked slightly, "…for wanting me to bring my things."
"It's your home too now," Aizawa reminded him. "And I meant what I said. I'll tell you as many times as you need to hear it."
They fell back into silence, but it felt warmer now. Less empty.
As they pulled into the garage of Aizawa's apartment building, Izuku felt something shift in his chest. Not quite hope, that felt too big, but maybe the space where hope could grow, given time.
Aizawa parked and turned off the engine, then looked over at Izuku with that same patient expression he'd worn all day.
"Let's get you home, kid."
Izuku nodded, clutching the box tight in his hands, and followed his teacher inside.