ONESHOTS ONESHOTS ONESHOTS !!

Cold

(warning that this is obviously not my best work! this was written almost a month ago at 12 am :3)

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The fall has come. The leaves fall from the trees, yellowing and flaking, and children play in the piles they create. Izuku smiles at them, shivering just a bit under his fleece. It was getting cold out, and he didn't know where his jacket was - didn't even know if he had one. The fleece would do, it wasn't that cold out. Not like a snowstorm. He finally arrives at the bus stop, getting on the bus when it stops, and sighs at the warmth. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket, scrolling through his social media to pass the time it takes to get to U.A.

He wears his fleece all day, and then the next. It continues, and he misses the looks his teachers give him. He leaves school, hands in his pockets, as the wind whips in his hair and makes his nose red. It's getting colder, but it's bearable.

It is only when winter comes that it's not quite fine anymore. The snow falls down on him and seeps into his fleece, making him shiver, and he cannot warm up. It's fine, he tries to convince himself. Maybe tomorrow he should grab a jacket if he can find one, he thinks. He tries to ignore the looks of, dare he say, worry that his teachers shoot him. He doesn't know why it's such a big deal.

At the end of the day Aizawa pulls him aside. "You need to start wearing a jacket," he says. "It's getting too cold to just wear a fleece."

"I know, Aizawa-sensei," Izuku replies sheepishly, messing with the sleeves of the fleece. "I'll see if I can pull my jacket out tomorrow. It was stupid of me to not look for it sooner." He looks down at his shoes, unsure of what to say next, before Aizawa sighs and dismisses him.

The walk is horrid. He really should have brought a jacket.

The next morning, the wind whips and snow falls, branches scratching against windows. Izuku gets ready for school methodically, packing his bag and eating breakfast, going to pull his fleece on before remembering to look for a jacket. He rummages through the coat rack, only seeing sweatshirts and his mother's many winter coats. He wants to cringe at the thought of wearing one. It's probably too small for him, anyway, considering he's bulked up since getting into U.A.

He knocks on her door softly, pushing it open. She lays in her bed, completely asleep, and Izuku stands there for a moment before heading in. The room is clean, somewhat, the closet door shut, as always. The room smells weird, stale almost. The closet overflows with clear bottles he does not look at. She snores loudly, even as Izuku shakes her. "Mom," he calls, "mom, wake up." She groans, opening her eyes ever so slightly, revealing just the whites of them. It fills Izuku with anxiety, for some odd reason he can't place. Something feels off. He shakes her harder.

"What?" she groans groggily, barely conscious and shutting her eyes again before she can even get the word out. The bags under her eyes are obvious in the dim lighting of her room. Izuku wants to scream.

"Can I borrow one of your coats?" He asks. She doesn't respond. He shakes her again. "Mom?"

"No, they're mine, I don't want you ruining them. Wear yours," she says, finally, before going to sleep again.

Izuku walks away with tears in his eyes and just wanting to scream and claw the skin off of him. He's hit with a wave of self-hatred and uselessness as he zips up the fleece and walks out the door. He couldn't even go to the store and pick up a cheap one on the way to school because he's broke. It's times like these where he wishes he could get a job without it interfering with his schooling.

The walk to the bus stop is torturous. The wind whips his hair and the cold bites at him harshly, the cold air making its way under his fleece and onto his arms and legs. The tears don't stop, and it takes everything in him not to hiccup or sob in public, or even hit himself until he's numb. Everything feels too much, and he wishes he could eradicate everything.

The minute he makes it into the classroom, he can tell Aizawa isn't impressed. He had almost forgotten about what he had said the day before. The days go by with anxiety simmering under his skin, like bugs crawling through his flesh that are so deeply burrowed he can't scratch them out. The tears dried on his cheeks, making them feel tacky when he talks. It's overwhelming, and he's aware of everything that touches him, of how it burns his skin.

Aizawa pulls him aside once more after classes end.

"I thought I told you to wear a jacket today," he says, something like disappointment or concern in his tone. Izuku cringes under his gaze, withering.

"I don't have one," Izuku whispers, squeezing his hand shut until his nails dig into the flesh of his palms. "I don't fit my mom's, either." He feels like an idiot for even mentioning his mother's jacket. Aizawa sighs, like the life is being drained from his being.

"Just...go home, kid," he says, finally. Izuku scurries away as fast as he can, eager to get out of the awkwardness. When he gets home, he's on edge, both from the conversation with his teacher and his mother, and the fact he's shivering and seemed unable to warm up.

The next day, he wears his fleece again. He had no choice, too scared to wear his mother's after she told him no, and too broke to buy himself one. It's in the morning that his teacher pulls him aside, this time. Izuku wants to cry, and he can see the weird look Uraraka is shooting him, probably having observed how often Aizawa has been pulling him aside. Three days in a row. Aizawa holds up a large, white jacket in front of him.

"I wasn't sure what size you wear," is all he says. Izuku is absolutely astounded - Aizawa got him a jacket? He takes it hesitantly, hands shaking with nerves. He slides it on and zips it up, marveling at the heat it provides.

"It fits perfectly," he says, almost in awe. "Thank you, Aizawa-sensei," he smiles. Aizawa spares a small smile back.