Chapter Text
Coffee, He needed coffee.
His throat burned in dehydration and his eyelids felt thick and crusted together weighed down by a lethargy like he hadn't slept at all.
he blurrily sat curling his blanket around his shoulders and glared at the pile of clothes tossed haphazardly at the end of his bed. The room was trashed. Though given its small size a stray textbook would make it look trashed.
Reaching over the end of his futon he pulled the pile into his aching body and settled them in his lap, replacing the hoodie he slept in with the one he had deemed presentable enough to wear in public. He'd been wearing it everyday for weeks. he began then slipping on his school shirt underneath. Taking care to never look down and closing his eyes when necessary.
He didn't want to see. He didn't want to be reminded of the scars or what they represented or how weak they made him feel.
Coffee, He needed coffee.
Coffee makes everything better.
Begrudgingly Peeling himself up and out of his warm blankets he decided to forgo changing out of his sweats till he was sufficiently caffeinated,
there was no way he could handle the sight and feel of his bare thighs right now without spiralling.
His socked feet hit the floor and his hands found their place massaging his aching temples. Wandering numbly out of his room to the kitchen. Automatically going for the instant coffee without so much as a thought. Turning on the jug, He grabbed his mug from its place on the counter, set it aside and went about filling the damn thing with the glorious black liquid. taking two heaping tablespoons of instant coffee and dumping them into his favourite mug was probably something he would regret later when he had to do groceries earlier than intended, however right now he couldn't find the strength to care.
One could never say insomnia wasn't a cruel and contemptuous bitch. its own special kind of hell that inspired a specific brand of depravity that made him very seriously consider just shovelling the freeze dried coffee beans into his mouth in the hope of getting a faster buzz.
No.
He did not choose violence today.
Taking the civil route, with his filled cup he rounded the counter to the shitty Ikea table.
Sitting before taking a gulping mouthful of his regrettably lukewarm beverage. He let out a low groan feeling the muscles in his back stretching uncomfortably from just leaning down to the table. Not to mention the burning in his chest which had thankfully yet to reach 'gaping void' status. He deeply inhaled. planting his face firmly into the wood, coffee sitting beside him.
Today was going to suck.
He had classes all day then training after school and his fucking manager just had to put him on closing tonight, a school night. Not like he slept anyway but some common fucking courtesy would be nice.
It was endurance day as well, Aizawa was a bloody demon about his cardio.
he'd be running laps till he died, or Aizawa decided he was done, whichever came first. More likely his death. not that he could really complain.
In the short term it was hell, but long term he logically knows it to be a necessary evil.
He’s unbelievably grateful to Aizawa for taking the time out to help someone like him train when he didn't have to.
He sat up straighter, taking another hulking gulp of coffee.
It was incredibly humbling to have someone go to such lengths for a kid like Hitoshi, his childhood hero to boot.
though he tried not to think about that lest he lose himself to sheer disbelief that this was his life now. him a kid with a villain's quirk, mean and unsociable, going to the top hero school, well on his way to getting transferred into his dream course and being privately trained by his childhood idol. he Didn't know what the fuck he did to deserve this but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was hard enough to believe as is.
Some days it was hard to believe he hadn't hit his head at one point and was going to wake up from a long term coma any day now.
Beginning to get his shit together mentally and absent mindedly sipping his coffee. Checking his watch reading 6:45.
“No one should have to get up this early, it's a sin” he mumbled into his hand, groaning. Sucking in a deep regretful breath
“fuck”
____________________
Frankly the noise levels that UA produces has got to be breaking some kind of public nuisance law about sound levels. He wouldn't be surprised if the school received a hundred noise complaints a week from the surrounding neighbourhoods. Though he suspected the fact that the school didn't get into trouble probably had more to do with their reputation and prestige than criminal negligence from the police. Although he can't say he'd be surprised
The jarring sound of the bell signalled the start of the school day and the commencing of a beautiful 96 minutes of relatively quiet classroom appropriate noise levels. or at least as close as you could get to an appropriate noise level at UA.
he could hear the door swung open not bothering to look up, Tuesdays always started with homeroom with vlad king.
“GOOD MORRRRNINGGGGG LISTENERS!”
His body jerked up startled as the rest of his classmates began greeting their teacher in excitement
God no.
He hesitantly raised his head
Catching sight of the bright yellow cockatoo looking motherfucker. And was once again faced with the realisation that god truly did hate him specifically.
Vlad was out sick.
Fuck.
Usually he would be happy to see Mic. He was one of his favourite teachers, and had even sometimes joined him and Aizawa’s training sessions.
His adverse reaction had more to do with the fact that everyone and their mother knew that the man could be a bit much at times. One of those times being when you are severely sleep deprived and feel one step away from sensory overload. Or more accurately one screaming human ball of human fucking sunshine away. Something Mic was exceptionally good at bringing out in people. He’ll probably never understand how he managed to get someone as perpetually exhausted as Aizawa to marry him.
Not that the relationship was common knowledge.
Although maybe making that announcement loudly and suddenly might do something about the general noise level, if only temporarily. Before the stocked silence turned to incessant badgering.
No. once again placing hand hands on his temples. He did not choose violence today. Bad hitoshi. No outing, your mentors torrid affairs (secret marriages) first thing on a Tuesday morning.
God he's tired.
Drifting further into his thoughts. as the class went on everything began to be untethered, a light sensation filling his body. Probably not something that should feel as comforting as it does. But right now he was more than ok with being on autopilot if only partly. But at least the fuzzy feeling around the edges began to take the pressure of his tense muscles.
The rest of his classes pass by uneventfully barring some odd looks from Mic midway through homeroom. the floaty feeling saving him from experiencing anything of any real emotional depth, a blessed reprieve from the usual scattered looks of fear and disgust from his classmates all he had to do was put his headphones on and find an empty hallway to sit in to escape completely from the role of low level social pariah. Turning up the already blaring music hashed away the “whispered” insults directed his way.
Glares and gossip are by far an upgrade from middle school.
He'll take stink eyes over black eyes any day, Thank you very much.
Wandering into his usual hall and settling cross legged on the floor leaning his back against the wall, god im so emo he realised with a sizeable amount of self loathing, as he cracked open a monster from his bag.
____________________
He takes back every good thing he's ever thought about the man.
Aizawa was an asshole.
He was a cruel and contemptuous bitch. Even more so than his insomnia.
Putting his hands on his knees to steady himself panting heavily, sweat making his shirt cling uncomfortably to his body. Even the fuzzy feeling couldn't save him from the dead weight that had become of his legs. Aizawa steared judgingly from across the track. every second spent standing catching his breath and not running laps, Aizawa's beady little eyes bore deeper and deeper into his skull until he eventually caved and shakaily began running up and down the field again.
This was just how training with Aizawa usually worked, he relied heavily on Shinsou’s own inexplicable need to please any positive authority figure to motivate him and push him ‘even further beyond’ even if it was to his own detriment.
Aizawa was Looking down at the stopwatch around his neck.
“Stop” he called casually, clicking stop from the same place he'd been standing for the last 45 minutes.
Collapsing onto the floor trying to calm down his laboured breathing and resisting the urge to massage his aching muscles. just barely managing to catch the water bottle thrown at his head. Moving onto his elbows and uncapping the bottle to take a cautious sip. The cool water soothing his dry as fuck throat. raising his eyes to meet Aizawa's, only he was staring down at a clipboard
“Adequate” the man assessed, noting down something on the clipboard, probably his time.
“ but”
there was always a but.
“You still need to work on your breathing, you sound like a broken vacuum sucking up something it shouldn't”
“ got it” he croaked only vaguely offended, in between sips. Aizawa looked up from the board assessing. Seemingly finding what he was looking for.
“We’ve still got 15 minutes, finish that then start on your stretches, tomorrow were sparring” gesturing to the water bottle. he turned towards the benches and put away his clipboard into his black gym bag “you've still got to work on your takedowns” turning around to make sure he was listening finding him already up and starting on his stretches.
“Got it”
“Are you going to say 'got it' to everything I say?” he said looking pointedly one eyebrow slightly raised, an expression he was very used to being on the receiving end of by now.
“Got it” he replied giving his best deadpan, making the man softly exhale, which was good as a laugh in Aizawa speak. Grumbling something indistinguishable about teenagers before looking down at his phone.
“Alright we’re done for the day. get out of here before i make you run more laps” heading for the door ruffling his hair as he walked past, he squawked in offence quickly trying to fix his messy hair so it was out of his eyes.
Dick.
Huffing and moving over to Grab his gym bag, before checking the time on his phone. He had plenty of time to get to work but he had still better get going. Better early than late anyway, maybe he'd even have time to go home and shower today. Looking at his phone he started walking out of the gym.
His work was a tiny restaurant on the other side of town by his apartment, but even living so close There were times where he'd gotten out of training with Aizawa late and hadn't had time to shower making his manager complain about how much of a wreck he looked, deeming him ‘bad for business’ and stick him out back washing dishes. Which sucked absolute ass considering the gloves were too small for his hands, so he had had to do it without scrubbing plates with his bare hands. Frankly, having gross wet food particles stuck to his hands was not an experience he was hoping to repeat. Sure he’d done worse at his old job but The texture just freaked him
out for no reason.
Looking at his phone and opening up spotify He put on his headphones as he exited the school gate walking towards the station. wrapping his arms around himself to shield him from the cold breeze looking up at the fancy buildings that surrounded UA.
Getting out late had its benefits, he missed the rush at three which he was eternally grateful for, even most of the stragglers were gone by now allowing him some peace before getting on the packed train.
Maybe the day wasn't as bad as he thought it was going to be, admittedly whenever he woke up feeling shit he tended to expect the worst especially if it was a school day. Looking to the ground in contemplation maintaining a sedate pace.
He really does have a lot of unresolved issues huh. Letting out a breath and watching the cold air turn it to condensation trugging further toward the station.