{~Deku one-shots with angst~}

The Mighty Fall From Their Pedestrals

A/N: HEY GUYS! I'm really sorry for the late chapter...again...ToT

I'm gonna try and make the update schedule back to two weeks after the irregular updates during summer. HOPEFULLY I'LL BE ABLE TO DO IT!

Anyways, enjoy this chapter xx

AU: Izuku's balancing on the edge of demise. Aizawa wakes up to a string of voicemails.

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Were the mighty ever supposed to fall?

Another wave of excruciating energy resonated through the ruins, pain surging through his tired limbs. Sweat rolled down his forehead, a dustied, bloodied subtance that stung his eyes. Fire- bright, burning, blisters of heat- licked against the sky; it reminded Izuku of Kamino.

Kamino- the scent of death had lingered for weeks after.

Now, it lay even more thick in the air.

Clutching his battered phone case, Midoriya pressed the green call button one more- not last, please not the last- time, the glowing letters of a name igniting hope in the grenette.

With all his might, Deku- Problem Child- would not fall.

"The call to 'Aizawa-Sensei' did not go through. Please click '1' to leave a voicemail." a robotic voice answered- devoid of emotions; no sign of the little bit of comfort Midoriya seeked right now.

The tears rolled down his cheeks, slow and sluggish, as he fired off a few more Detroit Smashes.

Izuku put down his phone carefully, the smile of All Might looking back at him. The bright smile of pearly white teeth is now slightly yellowed with age, the smile worn and used, but still perfectly conditioned; just like him, Izuku thought briefly.

He hopes- begs- that Aizawa Sensei can come in time but...

Though they may not be destined to, the mighty will succumb, as do the mortals.

Aizawa cracks open his eyes, and the first thing he realises is that it's dark. Getting up with cracking joints, Shota goes to pull apart the beige curtains, wincing at the rays of bright light. The morning- well, afternoon he supposes- is...normal. The sun is shining, there are the occasional people strolling; it's the view every hero dreams of, what they risk their lives for.

Peace.

Yet, there's a feeling in his gut; heavy and dreading, the anxiety almost suffocating.

Something's wrong.

Shota knows it.

Despite his rational side reminding Aizawa that surely, nothing significantly bad could've happened in the few hours he was asleep, Shota- no, Eraserhead- knew that he should always trust his instinct.

Turning his worn phone on, Aizawa's worries only strengthened at the "16 missed calls" from one Midoriya Izuku.

"Only call me when you're in danger." Shota had warned in homeroom, a few months ago; he knew Midoriya was not one to take his words lightly.

16 missed calls.

Frantically, Aizawa clicked on the taunting call button, and with each ring, his heartbeat pounded like stampeding rain and roaring thunder.

"Midoriya Izuku did not answer. Please try again later."

Shit.

"Beep. You have 16 voicemails. Please click '1' to listen. If not, please click-"