——-
As the moments stretched on, Izuku and Shinso's quiet exchange of emotions was interrupted by a sudden commotion. The air seemed to shift, charged with a mixture of urgency and distress. And then, from a distance, a familiar voice rang out, carrying a sense of panic that sent shivers down Izuku's spine.
"Izuku! Izuku, where are you?"
Hizashi Yamada, known as Present Mic, appeared on the scene with a frantic urgency that was impossible to ignore. His voice cracked as he continued to call out for Izuku, his eyes scanning the area desperately.
Izuku's heart clenched at the sound of Hizashi's voice, a mixture of emotions surging within him. He had known that his actions would cause worry, but seeing the raw fear etched on Hizashi's face was something else entirely.
Shinso, sensing the incoming storm, released his hold on Izuku and turned to look at Hizashi with a mix of apprehension and concern. He had seen the protective and emotional side of Hizashi before, but he hadn't witnessed the full extent of his reaction until now.
Hizashi's eyes landed on Izuku and Shinso, his expression a whirlwind of relief and anger. He rushed towards them, his voice laced with a mixture of desperation and frustration. "Izuku, what the hell were you thinking? Do you have any idea how worried we've been?"
Izuku's throat tightened as he met Hizashi's gaze. He could see the pain and fear he had caused, and the guilt weighed heavily on his heart.
"I... I'm sorry," Izuku stammered, his voice barely audible.
Hizashi's anger seemed to give way to a wave of sorrow, and he closed the distance between them in an instant. He pulled Izuku into a fierce embrace, his grip almost painfully tight. "Don't you ever do something like that again. Do you understand me? We care about you, damn it."
Izuku nodded against Hizashi's shoulder, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He hadn't meant to hurt the people who cared about him, but in his darkest moments, he had lost sight of their feelings.
Hizashi's grip on him loosened slightly, and he pulled back to look into Izuku's eyes. "You scared us, kid. You're not alone in this. We're your family, and we're here for you."
Tears welled up in Izuku's eyes as he met Hizashi's gaze, the weight of his emotions crashing over him. He had been so focused on sparing his loved ones from pain that he hadn't realized how much pain he was causing them in the process.
"I'm so sorry," Izuku whispered, his voice choked with regret.
Hizashi's expression softened, and he placed a hand on Izuku's cheek. "It's okay, kid. Just promise us that you'll talk to us when things get tough. You don't have to go through this alone."
As Izuku nodded, his vision blurred by tears, he realized that he had a support system that he could lean on. The weight of his struggles felt a little lighter knowing that he didn't have to face them alone, that he had people who cared about him and were willing to stand by his side.
And as Hizashi's embrace enveloped him once more, Izuku allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could find his way through the darkness with the love and support of his newfound family.
——-
As the scene unfolded, emotions continued to ripple through the air like an electric charge, tangible and raw. Aizawa's arrival added a new layer to the mix, his expression a mixture of relief, concern, and something deeper, something that he rarely allowed himself to show.
The moment Aizawa's eyes landed on Izuku, his heart clenched in a vice of simultaneous relief and panic. Every thought, every ounce of rationality he possessed, was overshadowed by the visceral reaction of a parent who had feared the worst for their child.
Without hesitation, Aizawa crossed the distance between them in long strides, his normally calm demeanor replaced by a feral urgency. He reached them in moments, his arms enveloping Izuku in a hold that was almost possessive, as if he couldn't believe that the boy was real, that he was here and unharmed.
Izuku felt the weight of Aizawa's embrace, a mix of emotions that left him at a loss for words. He had seen Aizawa's emotions bubble to the surface before, but this was something different, something deeper and more profound.
"Izuku," Aizawa's voice was a mixture of relief and raw emotion, his grip on the boy tightening as if he was afraid that letting go would make him disappear.
"I'm here," Izuku whispered, his own voice shaking.
Aizawa's hold on him seemed to convey a mixture of relief, anger, and concern. He pulled back slightly, his eyes scanning over Izuku's face as if to make sure that he was truly unharmed.
"What were you thinking?" Aizawa's voice was a harsh whisper, laced with a desperation that sent shivers down Izuku's spine.
"I... I'm sorry," Izuku stammered, his eyes downcast.
Aizawa's expression softened, his thumb brushing gently against Izuku's cheek. "I don't want to lose you. Do you understand that?"
Izuku met Aizawa's gaze, seeing the vulnerability and fear that lay beneath the surface. It was a side of Aizawa that he rarely glimpsed, a side that made him realize just how much he was loved and valued.
"I understand," Izuku said softly, his own voice heavy with emotion.
Aizawa's grip on him didn't waver, his eyes searching Izuku's face as if trying to convey his feelings without words. And as they stood there, a makeshift family bound by their shared experiences, Izuku felt a warmth in his chest, a reassurance that he wasn't alone, that he had people who cared about him deeply.
And as Aizawa's arms held him close, the weight of his emotions pressed against Izuku's heart, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could navigate his way through the darkness with the support of those who loved him unconditionally.
—-
As the night drew on, the makeshift family found themselves back at Aizawa's home, a sense of shared relief and exhaustion hanging in the air. Their concern for Izuku had been palpable, the fear of losing him a common thread that had united them.
Aizawa's grip on Izuku hadn't loosened since the moment he had found him. In the comfort of his own home, he had relinquished his territorial hold only slightly, allowing Izuku to sit beside him on the couch, but the physical connection remained strong.
Beside them, Hizashi and Shinso mirrored Aizawa's stance, their protective instincts on full display. The living room had become a sanctuary, a space where Izuku could be surrounded by the people who cared about him the most.
As the night grew deeper, the group had gathered in a circle, their presence a reassuring reminder that Izuku was safe. The text message that had triggered the panic still echoed in their minds, the words etched into their memories like a haunting refrain.
Hizashi's voice broke the silence as he began to read the message aloud, his tone filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. One by one, they took turns reading the text, each word resonating deeply within them.
Izuku listened, his own heart heavy as he heard the words he had typed in a moment of despair. Hearing them read aloud made their weight even more apparent, a stark reminder of the darkness that had consumed him at that moment.
As the text was read for the last time, there was a collective sigh, a shared moment of relief that the worst had been avoided. And then Aizawa spoke up, his voice firm and unyielding.
"We need to talk about this," Aizawa's gaze shifted to Izuku, his expression a mix of concern and determination. "You can't keep carrying this burden alone."
Izuku met Aizawa's gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. He nodded, acknowledging that he couldn't face his struggles in isolation any longer.
"But not tonight," Hizashi's voice was gentle, his hand resting on Izuku's shoulder. "Tonight, let's just focus on being together."
Izuku's gaze shifted from one face to another, the love and support he saw reflected back at him overwhelming in the best possible way. He nodded again, his voice a whisper.
"Yeah, tonight... let's just be a family."
And as the night deepened, the group settled in the living room, laughter and conversation gradually replacing the weight of their worries. Their bond had grown stronger in the face of adversity, and as they shared stories and moments of levity, the darkness that had threatened to consume Izuku began to recede.
In the dim light of the living room, surrounded by the people who cared about him, Izuku felt a sense of belonging that he had never experienced before. The text message that had once seemed like a final goodbye was now a reminder of how far he had come, and the family that had rallied around him to keep him from slipping away
———
In the soft morning light, Aizawa sat at the kitchen table, Izuku's phone in his hands, his fingers scrolling through the messages that had been sent out just the night before. His expression was a mix of concern, sadness, and a hint of desperation, as if by reading these messages, he could somehow find the answers he was seeking.
As he read each goodbye message, Aizawa's heart clenched with a mixture of emotions. He saw the individualized words, the messages that Izuku had left for each person he cared about. They were bittersweet declarations, a mix of gratitude, regret, and a sense of farewell.
To Momo: "You're so intelligent and kind. Thank you for always believing in me. Keep being amazing."
To Mina: "Your positivity and energy have always lifted me up. Don't stop shining your light."
To Kirishima: "Your unwavering friendship has meant more to me than you know. Keep being a rock for others."
To Shinso: "You've shown me that there's always a way to change, to become who you want to be. Stay strong."
To Mic: "Your support and music have given me strength. Thank you for being like a family to me."
And to Aizawa: "You saw something in me when no one else did. You're the reason I kept going. I hope you understand."
Aizawa's eyes lingered on his own message, the weight of Izuku's words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had always believed in Izuku's potential, had trained him tirelessly to become a hero. Yet somehow, he had missed the signs of Izuku's pain, the darkness that had pushed him to the edge.
His grip on the phone tightened, frustration and regret building within him. He had considered himself to be Izuku's guardian, his mentor, yet in this moment, he felt like he had failed him.
Meanwhile, in the living room, Hizashi, Mic, and Shinso were exchanging concerned glances, their own phones lighting up with messages. They were all trying to piece together the puzzle of why Izuku had sent those messages, what had led him to that desperate moment.
Hizashi glanced at the messages on his own phone, a mixture of sadness and worry etched on his face. Mic was busy typing away on his phone, his brows furrowed in thought, while Shinso seemed lost in his own thoughts, his expression pensive.
Aizawa's voice, tinged with a mix of sorrow and regret, broke the silence as he finally looked up from the phone. "I should have seen this coming. I should have known he was hurting."
Mic's gaze flicked toward Aizawa, his expression one of understanding. "We all should have. But now we need to focus on supporting him, helping him heal."
Shinso nodded in agreement, his voice soft but determined. "We need to show him that he's not alone, that he has people who care about him."
The group fell into a contemplative silence, their thoughts heavy with the weight of the situation. It was a reminder that even in the darkest moments, the bonds of family and friendship could be a lifeline, a source of strength that could help pull someone back from the brink.
And as they continued to exchange messages and discuss their plan to support Izuku, the sense of urgency was matched only by their determination to be there for him, to make sure he knew that he was loved and valued, and that they would stand by him no matter what.
——
Shinso quietly settled beside Izuku, offering a supportive presence as he slept. Meanwhile, in another room, Hizashi and Aizawa sat at the kitchen table, the piece of paper from Izuku's bag between them. As they unfolded it, their hearts weighed heavy with the knowledge of what it might contain.
The words were written in Izuku's familiar handwriting, neat and precise despite the somber context:
"To whoever finds this,
I don't know if you'll know me, but my name is Izuku Midoriya. If you're reading this, it means I couldn't find another way out, and I'm sorry for the mess I've made. I know I'm just another problem to deal with, and I'm sorry for that too.
I want you to know that I tried to fight, tried to keep going. But it all became too much. The darkness got too overwhelming, and I couldn't see a way out. I've been struggling with the weight of my pain for so long, and it felt like it was suffocating me.
I want you to understand that this isn't anyone's fault. It's not my friends', my family's, or anyone else's. I know they would have supported me if I had let them. But I felt like a burden, like I was dragging everyone down with me.
If you're wondering why, it's because I felt lost. I felt like I was drowning in my own despair, and I couldn't see a future for myself. I know I have people who care about me, but I couldn't escape the feeling that I was better off gone.
Please take care of my friends and family. They deserve happiness, even if I couldn't find it myself.
Thank you for reading this. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Sincerely,
Izuku Midoriya"
Hizashi's voice wavered as he read the words aloud, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. Aizawa's grip on the paper tightened, his breath hitching as he struggled to process the weight of Izuku's words. The realization that Izuku had been in such a dark place, that he had been ready to give up, was almost too much to bear.
Aizawa's composure shattered, and tears streamed down his face as his shoulders trembled. Hizashi reached out, placing a supportive hand on Aizawa's back, offering comfort and understanding.
"It's okay to feel this," Hizashi's voice was gentle, his own eyes glistening with tears. "You're not alone in this, Shota."
Aizawa's breathing grew ragged, panic rising within him as he grappled with the magnitude of what had almost happened. The near loss of the child he had come to see as his own had sent him spiraling into a storm of emotions.
Hizashi's hand remained steady on Aizawa's back, grounding him in the present moment. "Breathe, Shota. Just focus on your breathing."
As Aizawa followed Hizashi's lead, the two of them found solace in each other's presence. The weight of Izuku's words and the emotions they had brought to the surface were shared between them, a reminder that they were a team, a family united by their love for a certain green-haired boy.
And in the midst of their shared pain, they found strength in each other, a lifeline to cling to as they faced the aftermath of a crisis that had brought them all to the brink.
—————
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Izuku lay on the bed, still deep in slumber after the emotional ordeal of the previous day. Shinso, ever vigilant, remained by his side, watching over him with a mixture of concern and relief.
As he snuggled closer to Izuku, Shinso's gaze fell on the bandages wrapped around his friend's torso. His brow furrowed slightly, and a frown creased his lips. His heart raced with a sudden realization, and he gently eased himself away from Izuku, just enough to get a better look.
The bandages seemed a bit more discolored than they had the previous night. Shinso's eyes widened as he realized there was a subtle, dark stain spreading across the fabric. He couldn't believe he had missed it earlier.
With a sense of urgency, Shinso got up and left the room, hurrying down the hallway to where Aizawa and Hizashi were. He knocked on the door, his voice urgent as he called out, "Dads, you need to come quick."
Aizawa opened the door, his expression quickly shifting from curiosity to concern as he took in Shinso's anxious demeanor. "What's wrong?"
Shinso hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice tinged with worry. "Izuku's bleeding. I mean, he's been bleeding all night, but it's getting worse."
Hizashi's brow furrowed as he exchanged a concerned glance with Aizawa. "How did we not notice?"
Shinso shrugged helplessly, feeling a bit guilty for not catching it sooner. "The bandages were thick, and he didn't seem too bothered by it yesterday."
Aizawa's somber expression deepened, his concern mirrored by Hizashi's. "Alright, let's go check on him."
The trio quickly made their way to the room where Izuku lay sleeping. Aizawa's heart clenched as he took in the sight of his adopted son, pale and still, as if the events of the past few days had drained all his energy.
Hizashi sighed, a mixture of frustration and sympathy in his voice. "Kid's luck has really taken a hit, huh?"
Aizawa nodded, his gaze fixed on Izuku. "It's more than just coincidence at this point. Especially after what happened yesterday."
With a shared understanding, Aizawa and Hizashi gently approached the couch. Aizawa's experienced hands began unwrapping the bandages, revealing the dark stain that had soaked through the fabric. He frowned as he inspected the wound, making a mental note to scold Izuku later for not bringing it to their attention sooner.
Hizashi placed a comforting hand on Izuku's forehead, checking his temperature. "He's running a fever. We need to clean and redress this wound properly."
Aizawa nodded, his voice firm as he directed Shinso. "Go grab the medical kit, and we'll take care of this."
Shinso quickly left the room to retrieve the supplies they needed, leaving Aizawa and Hizashi to focus on treating Izuku's wound. As they worked together, the room filled with a mixture of worry and determination. Despite the challenges they faced, they were united in their commitment to keeping Izuku safe and healthy.
As they worked, Aizawa's mind was filled with thoughts of what had transpired over the past few days. The near-loss of Izuku had left a lasting impact, a reminder that his reckless actions could have dire consequences. He knew they needed to have a serious conversation about his well-being, about the underlying issues that had led him to this point.
But for now, as they tended to Izuku's wound, they were content to be there for him, to provide the support and care he needed. They were determined to help him heal, both physically and emotionally, and to remind him that he was loved and cherished by the family he had found in them.
As Izuku stirred, his eyelids fluttered open, and his gaze focused on Aizawa's stern expression. His head felt heavy, his thoughts sluggish, as if he was struggling to stay present. He blinked a few times, trying to gather his bearings, but everything felt hazy and distant.
Aizawa's voice cut through the fog, his tone firm. "Izuku, why didn't you tell us that your wound had reopened?"
Izuku's lips quirked into a weak smile, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Oh, you know, just wanted to see how long I could keep it a secret. Thought I'd try my luck."
Aizawa's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident. "This isn't a joke, Izuku. Your well-being is at stake."
Izuku's smile didn't waver. "Well, aren't you the observant one, Aizawa-sensei?"
Hizashi sighed, his voice tinged with concern. "Izuku, you can't just brush this off. It's serious."
Izuku shrugged, the nonchalance in his tone grating on their nerves. "Why not? It's not like it's the first time I've been hurt."
The atmosphere in the room grew heavy, tension thick in the air. Aizawa's patience was wearing thin, and he leaned closer, his voice growing sharper. "Izuku, this isn't a game. We're talking about your life here."
Izuku's laughter bubbled up, but there was something off about it. It was manic, unsteady. "Right, because life's just a grand old party."
The anger in the room was palpable now, and Aizawa's voice was stern as he pressed, "Stop deflecting, Izuku."
Izuku's laughter abruptly stopped, his eyes welling up with tears as his façade cracked. His voice trembled as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of his emotions. "You want the truth, Aizawa? Fine. That wasn't my first attempt. The bullying has gotten worse. Kids at school found out about my wound and decided to make it a game. Every day was a challenge to see how much they could hurt me. And that day... that day I just snapped. It hurt too much, and I didn't want to feel that pain anymore."
A heavy silence hung in the room, broken only by Izuku's ragged breathing and the soft sniffles that escaped him. Aizawa's anger had transformed into concern, his eyes softening as he realized the depth of Izuku's pain.
Hizashi's voice was gentle as he spoke, his eyes filled with empathy. "Izuku, you don't have to go through this alone."
Izuku's shoulders trembled as he finally let the tears fall, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know, but it's hard. It's all just so overwhelming."
Aizawa's arms wrapped around Izuku, pulling him into a comforting embrace. "You're not alone anymore, Izuku. We're here for you."
Hizashi joined in, wrapping his arms around both of them. "We're your family, kid. We'll get through this together."
Izuku's tears flowed freely now, his walls crumbling as he allowed himself to be vulnerable. He buried his face against Aizawa's shoulder, finally letting go of the burden he had been carrying alone for so long. In the embrace of his new family, he found solace and a sense of belonging he had never experienced before.
