The Emerald Prince

Chapter 102: Tortured Mind

This...I suppose in a way is kinda my favourite chapter.
I get nightmares. A lot.
I've no real trauma that I'm aware of but my imagination just adores making up for it, to the point my greatest fear is developing schizophrenia (crops up between 18 and 22 usually which is really shitty of it) meaning my nightmares can hunt me in the day as well as in the night.
But now I quite often come back to this chapter and imagine myself as Izuku. Find it pretty comforting to be honest, and I hope you guys find it of some value too...if only to fulfil your need for hurt/comfort angst.

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Shoto lay awake trembling with rage.
That man had taken his mother from him, his childhood, his brother, and now he'd tried to take away his love and his future. Permanently.
Life in jail was not enough.
He almost considered calling Toga, the woman's morals still weren't exactly aligned with the law... but he knew that would anger Izuku.

He was in Izuku's room, with Shinsou, Bakugou, Kaminari, Kirishima and Iida.
For various reasons none had wanted to go into, none of them could sleep in their own rooms and had migrated to Izuku's and to each other for silent support and reassurance. Izuku's presence permeated the place; the musty smell of books, fresh woodland and coffee.

He knew he wasn't the only one still awake when someone knocked on the door at 3:00am.
In fact, he discovered everyone was awake since all of them sat up as Shinsou got off of the queen size bed he'd claimed as the first arrival, and opened the door to the unknown visitor.

It was Aizawa, looking more pale and drawn than they'd ever seen him.
His eyes widened slightly at the gathering, but the surprise was overcome swiftly as his coal black eyes settled on Shoto.
"He won't wake up... I'm so sorry you'll have see this but Shoto, would you come with me and try? He's not doing too well and I-"
"It's okay." Shoto felt overwhelming relief at the opportunity to try to make up a little for something he was certain he should be blamed for...regardless of rationality.

He got up and went to the door before glancing back at the others. He tried to think of something to say but nothing really came to mind so he just turned back to the doorway and followed Aizawa down the quiet corridor, the stairs and into the darkened hall.

He could hear the screams then.
They were muffled, clearly the teacher's rooms were sound proofed for whatever reason.
Present Mic was in the hall holding Eri, tears streaming down both their cheeks.
"Sho-ni! Help him!" She whispered weakly, her eyes desperate.
Shoto swallowed a lump in his throat, only nodding as Aizawa stood aside to let him reach for the door handle.

The sound hit him like one of Jirou's attacks, and he'd timed it awfully... he was sure the others upstairs had heard it. He entered hastily, closing the door on the distraught family, as he stumbled to Izuku's side.

The teen's skin shone with sweat, and he was clawing at his healed neck as if to pull away phantom hands. His hair sprawled over the pillow, as he shook, screaming and sobbing in pure, unadulterated terror, his legs up defensively.
Shoto tried stroking his hair, cursing his father with every word Shinsou and Bakugou had taught him, and wishing the bastard dead for the state he'd put Izuku into.

The petting didn't help, he tried pulling the clawing hands away, but that just increased the yelling and earned him a strong kick to the gut. Trying to hug the teen was useless too and his futile attempts brought tears to Shoto's eyes as he watched Izuku suffer.
He sobbed with the greenette, yelling in his ear to wake up though the noise had no effect. Izuku was lost deep in a memory, or a nightmare or most likely both.

In a last ditch attempt to do something that wouldn't be in the memories and that Aizawa wouldn't have tried, he pulled those frantic hands away once more, and leaned down to press their lips together. He kissed those lips, tasting salt from tears and blood from where Izuku had bitten them in his distress, but he kept on, putting all his regret and sorrow and pain and desperation into it, so focused he didn't register Izuku had stopped struggling until a hand tugged at his shirt.