The Couples of Class 1-A

LCO | Ch. 44: Wilted Flower

*WARNING: depictions of panic attacks, implied traumatic response to past abuse

*This chapter is closely linked to Engine Boy I Love You! | Ch. 3: "Honestly Want". (Check it out for extra context!)

Author's Note: Because Wattpad's editing features are stupid and buggy, some paragraphs glitched out when I copied over the text from Word. If there appear to be any missing phrases, paragraphs, or words anywhere in this chapter, feel free to leave a comment at the corresponding places. I've already done one look-through myself, but there might be more. (I'll delete this once I'm certain the chapter is completely fixed.)

Thanks, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

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The sound of the laundry room door closing felt painfully loud in the empty common room. Silence followed just as quickly though, all too suffocating as Midoriya stood aimlessly in front of the doorway. He sucked in a breath, attempting to steady his nerves, and then put out one foot in Iida's direction. Dread seemed to follow him, despite how hard he tried to keep his mind empty.

The key was to avoid overthinking. For as strong as Midoriya was, he was just as proficient at talking himself out of things. It was a bad habit—one that still persisted even after becoming a hero student, though at some point he'd just accepted that part of himself as a lingering personality trait. Whatever the reason, he needed to stifle that side of him for just a little while—a few seconds, even. If not, he was certain he'd flee back upstairs at the first opportunity.

Just go for it, he breathed, slowing down at last once he was past the right side of the couch. A few more steps, and he'd be able to see Iida's face. Iida needs you.

The moment Midoriya passed the edge of the couch, he realized why, too.

To say Iida was a wreck was an understatement. He'd slouched further in his seat than before, practically sinking into the couch cushions. He was still in his white shirt and slacks, and if it weren't for the obvious UA epaulets on his shoulders, would've completed the picture of an overworked office employee coming home after a long, dreadful day. The worst part about him though had nothing to do with how tidy he looked. It was the sorry look in his eyes that gave him away; a dour, disconsolate shade of washed-out blue, as he fixated absentmindedly on the TV.

Even as Midoriya observed Iida's face, he didn't seem to notice him. It gave Midoriya a twinge of awkwardness, realizing he'd have to come even closer or call out to him—which thanks to his anxiety, neither sounded appealing. It was just a matter of getting the first words out though. After that, Midoriya knew he'd be able to handle the conversation just fine.

For that reason, even though he was timid, Midoriya sucked in another deep breath, and called out to his friend.

"Hey, Iida."

He startled slightly, which was expected. What Midoriya found alarming though was the prolonged way Iida paused before acknowledging him.

"Midoriya..." he nodded slowly, "good evening."

Uncomfortable, Midoriya shifted his weight onto his other foot, but made sure not to let the air go quiet for too long.

"Is everything alright? I um, couldn't help but notice you don't look too good." he ran an uncertain hand through his curls, "You didn't respond to my texts yesterday either, so I've gotten a little worried."

"Ah, that." Iida paused again, glancing over at his phone—which was currently lying face-down on the table, "I'm sorry, I suppose I forgot..."

He pointedly didn't answer whether or not he was feeling okay, but Midoriya pretended not to notice. The answer wasn't particularly important anyway, since his discomfort was so obvious to begin with.