2. proposition

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Now we're cooking here we go 🧘🧘
tw: more vomiting, discussion of bullying
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The next day, Izuku was deeply bedridden. He was throwing up every few hours, barely able to keep anything down, and coughing constantly. His voice was nearly gone.

Worst of all, he was completely alone. His mom still had to work. She couldn't call in sick, they were barely making rent as it was.

Around 2pm, just after his 5th round of heaving over the toilet that day, there was a knock on his window. He left his bathroom wearily (too tired to even be cautious of a stranger knocking on his second story window) wiping his mouth, only to see the a familiar, black haired, exhausted hero teacher shakily standing there.

He quickly opened the window, "what are you doing?" He asked, his voice nearly gone.

"You sound horrible. Can we come in?" Aizawa asked. Like it was completely normal.

Izuku blinked, "we?" He hoarsed out, exhaustedly staring at the monochromely dressed man clinging to his windowsill.

A voice shouted from below, but it sounded effortless, like he could go a lot louder if he wanted to, "it's me! Present Mic! I'm here too!" Aizawa was standing on the man's shoulders to reach the window and holding his husband's ankles for further security.

"No! Go away." Izuku whisper-shouted. He could not speak any louder no matter how hard he tried.

"Can we come in the front door?" Mic asked from below. Izuku rolled his eyes, huffed, and shut the window. Two minutes later Izuku was letting them in the front door.

"What do you want?" He wheezed, his posture hunched over and hidden by his All Might pajamas.

"You sound like death." The much taller hero commented, "and look like death."

"Is there anyone home to take care of you?" Aizawa asked, slightly peeking in the door to see.

"No, my mom is at work." He said, wiping his nose after, a line of slot showing up on his arm. He grimaced in disgust at his own withering body.

"She couldn't stay home to help?" Mic asked.

"Look at where I live. What do you think?" Izuku asked irritably. They lived in a small apartment in the side of town that wasn't known for being safest. He wasn't himself when he was sick. He felt incredibly nauseous. He began to close the door without another word to go kneel over the toilet.

Aizawa caught the door and stopped him from leaving by catching his arm, "do you need help?"

"I can throw up by myself." Izuku rasped rudely, his face very obviously pale now. He didn't even bother closing the door, he just pulled his shoulder away and left the men to do whatever they wanted. He immediately made his way to the bathroom with a hand over his mouth.

Aizawa and Mic shot a look at eachother before following him in and closing the door behind them and locking the deadbolt.

The apartment was small on The second level of the complex, just down the hall from the stairwell and broken elevator. The floor was fake vinyl wood and needed a good mopping. The counters were cheap mixed brown granite and the cabinets were painted white with a single coat by the landlord in attempt to raise the value of the place. The orange wood beneath shown through. There were two bedrooms. The one on the outside wall with a single window was Izuku's and the other, next to it without windows was his mother's. The kitchen, dining room, and living area shared a space. It was tight and the very best they could do on a single (not very high) salary.

Izuku gagged loudly over the toilet and the two teachers were quickly by his side.

Izuku couldn't even argue as he dry heaved over the toilet and his body broke out into a frigid sweat.

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