Rage is the Colour Green (Tododeku-Completed)

Izuku gets help

Izuku was having a bad day.

It wasn't like bad days weren't common.

It's just that he usually tried to actually push through them. But today, he just couldn't bring himself to get out of bed.

Recently, he had been having great days actually. People had really loved his essay on Herotube. He was thinking of making a video of something to do with Ende*vor because people were really starved for hero bashing. And Ende*vor was a perfect target.

Obviously, he had gotten hate messages but they were easy to ignore. Most just saw Ende*vor as this powerful god-like figure. Which he most certainly wasn't.

Even All Might in his stick-like form was miles ahead of the league Ende*vor was stuck in. Which he wouldn't be getting out of anytime soon.

So here Izuku was, after all the dust had settled.

Well, mostly settled.

The news had gotten wind of the essay and kept analysing it. It was quite funny to Izuku. They thought it was someone like the hero killer, same ideas, but without the violence.

But two weeks after the essay had been published and Izuku was here. In bed, barely able to bring himself to move his arms.

He should have realised this would happen soon. Feeling good happened for a while, but despair always brought him back to himself.

His head pounded with the start of a headache and it burned from the fever that had been plaguing him for the last few hours. He was tired but couldn't bring himself to sleep.

Nightmares would haunt him during his dreams, of explosions and palms and running and All Might and All For One and ancestors and people he had never even known. They would shout at him, begging to be seen, noticed.

Izuku supposed he could relate to them. He wanted to be seen. For people to notice that no, sometimes he was not OK. He got sad a lot of the time, and he had reasons. But it didn't matter.

Izuku was burning up, was exhausted, despairing and depressed.

Yes. This had been a long term... fear of his he supposed.

He had guessed. His childhood had never been the best, his scars were proof of that. He had thought he may be depressed during the lowest of his lows. But the thing was, once it made itself known, it never went away. He had good days and bad days. Luckily, at UA he had more good than bad but they always eventually raised its ugly head, trying to rip him apart from the inside of his brain.

His blanket was soft lying over him. He wished he had some tea at the moment but he didn't what to bother anyone else with his sickness. Or for them to ask questions. He already had enough of those being asked around this time.

Izuku couldn't say that his eyes weren't tired. That he had gotten a great sleep last night and had brilliant dreams. He hadn't. He had no problem admitting it to himself.

Admitting it to others had always been the problem.

Sleep beckoned him, promising monsters and restless turning, the return of bad memories, but Izuku just couldn't resist the call of dreams, terrible or not.

His eyelashes fluttered closed and he slipped into a nightmare filled with scars and knives, blood slipping across the asphalt, and broken limbs at odd angles.

************

Aizawa had been contemplating the right time to talk to Midoriya for a little less than two weeks now. He never seemed to get the timing right.