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He hadn’t been able to sleep for hours.
Staring up at his ceiling, at the glow-in-the-dark stars Uraraka had added a few days before, Izuku blinked. His eyes were wet, hot. His vision was blurry. Swallowing, hands laid over his stomach, he took a slow breath. He’d tried everything. Every time he closed his eyes, though, his heart started pounding. If he even rolled to his side, then his stomach and his chest began to squeeze and shift. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose. Come on, Izuku. Breathe. Take a breath. You’re fine, he thought, gritting his teeth.
He didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know why this was happening, if it was anxiety or if he was in some other pain he didn’t know about. At some point, he had just—forgotten what it was like. To not be anxious, to not be in pain. Rolling to his feet, he turned and wrapped his arms around himself. The dark room wasn’t helping. His All Might lamp that he’d been given by Shouto as a joke wasn’t helping, either. Okay, you’re okay. You’re going to be okay.
The walls were closing in on him. His throat was too tight. Someone was choking him—he would turn, and Shigaraki would be there with four fingers coiled around his throat and his little finger dancing above Izuku’s skin. Raising a hand to his mouth, Izuku gnawed on his palm, feeling the bones of his thumb under his molars. He didn’t so much ignore the pain as he did sink into it, letting it wash over him. Taking a slow breath, he squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted out.
He needed out.
Izuku turned and looked out the window. Rain spattered against the glass. In his chest, something thrummed. A want. A need, really. He had to move. He had to get out. He had to run.
He didn’t even bother to grab his bag.
Instead, he yanked on some proper clothes, put on some running shoes, and raced out. His shoulder brushed the doorframe. He almost sprinted down the stairs. As he moved, he heard the steady click-click-clicks as he ran down the steps. His blood thundered in his ears. He hit the ground floor, raced out the doors. He barely even paused to swipe out.
Maybe he would get in trouble for it again. He didn’t care. He needed to move. Rushing through the doors, out into the rain, he glanced around. The wind rushed. The rain poured down around him. He splashed through puddles, feeling the water sink into his feet. As he ran, head towards the sky, he took a slow breath.
He kept running until he reached Ground Beta.
Throwing out a strand of Blackwhip, he yanked himself from the ground. The feeling of flying—he loved it. He’d always loved it. As he landed on the rooftop, sneakers skidding against wet concrete, he looked up. Rain poured down on his shoulders, his head, pooling beneath him. The fake windows to the fake building were black, lit only by distant streetlights as water washed down the glass. Turning, he looked out across the fake skyline. Cold air settled on him. Again, he tilted his head back. The rain washed over him.
When he opened his eyes, he spotted a lightning rod atop the building he was on. There was barely even a pause. Barely even a moment. Then, he was climbing, using Blackwhip to yank himself up until he was clinging to the rod, hand wrapped around rain-slick, cold metal. Holding onto it, he leaned out over the cityscape.
The wind rushed around him, filling his lungs and running into his blood. He rasped in a deep breath, closed his eyes. Rain washed over his head, down his back. The cold metal under his hand was familiar, steady. As he looked ahead, droplets of water ran down the bridge of his nose, over his cheeks, sliding down his neck and over his shoulders.
That anxiety welled up in his chest, his throat, eased. He was standing, clinging to the lightning rod, in the middle of the rain. The rainstorm raged on. Again, Izuku tipped his head back. Sharp rain landed on his closed eyes, his cheeks, his face. It was cold, ice-cold. His fingers were frosty. He could just—he could finally breathe. The only sounds were the thundering rain, his own breathing, the blood roaring in his ears.
He didn’t know why he was so calm. Maybe it was because he knew the lightning rod would take his weight. Maybe it was because he could use Float or Blackwhip to catch himself if he did fall. It didn’t matter.
Eventually, a strike of light cut through the night, lighting behind his eyelids.
Opening his eyes, Izuku looked down. There, on the ground, was Aizawa. Oh. Right. He thought. With a flashlight in hand, Aizawa crossed his arms and looked up at him. Izuku let go of the lightning rod.
Floating down to him, face heating up as he went, Izuku landed on the asphalt and wrapped his arms around himself. Aizawa looked at him, then hooked the flashlight to his belt and then pulled out an umbrella, opening it and holding it above the both of them. “Care to explain what you’re doing, Problem Child?”
“I needed to move.” Izuku explained lamely, looking away. He didn’t want to meet Aizawa’s gaze, not immediately, so he didn’t. Instead, he stared down at his shoes, the puddle beneath him. He didn’t dare glance up.
The silence settled on them both, punctuated by raindrops pitter-pattering on the cherry-blossom umbrella above their heads.
Finally, Izuku scrounged up a bit of courage. Raising his eyes, he looked at Aizawa. His teacher was looking at him, still. “You needed to move. Why come here?”
“I…don’t know. Not really.” He replied. “It just…I don’t know if it felt right, or if it was because I just ended up here. It’s just how things turned out.”
Humming, Aizawa continued to look at him. Izuku waited to be chewed out. Then, quietly, Aizawa suggested, “Let’s go back to the dorms, Problem Child.”
They walked in silence. It weighed down on Izuku’s shoulders. As they walked, he glanced at Aizawa nervously. His teacher’s face stayed neutral. Flat. He was focused ahead instead, and Izuku shifted even as he walked. The umbrella stayed held over their heads. There were small ducks between the cherry blossoms, yellow against the pale blue sky and pale pink flowers.
“Did Eri choose the umbrella?” He asked, softly.
“She did.” Glancing at him, Aizawa added, “I have to ask this. Are you experiencing suicidal—”
“No.” Izuku flinched as he finished. With a wince, he glanced Aizawa’s way, then turned back to the pavement ahead. “I don’t—I’ve never wanted to do something like that. Anything like that. I’m not…it would keep me from being a hero, you know? I just, I’ve always wanted to be a hero, so even when things were rough I focused on that instead. Does that make sense?”
“Sure.”
They reached Heights Alliance.
“Next time you feel the need to run, kid,” Aizawa began, “at least text me first. Go get changed and come back downstairs.”
Izuku watched Aizawa duck into the kitchen, the umbrella disappearing with him.
Aizawa had made hot chocolate while Izuku was gone.
Peering at the mug, he glanced up. “Normally, I wouldn’t advise sugar right before sending you back to bed, but I’ve seen Bakugou bring you hot chocolate before and I’m sure he wouldn’t if it didn’t work.” Aizawa noted, looking down at the dorm cat that he totally didn’t know about. Shirogane slid around his legs, silver tabby coat shiny in a way that meant Kouda had bathed her while Izuku was in his room. “Where are your sisters?” He murmured, looking down at her.
Shirogane gave no information about Kogane or Kurogane, instead purring, headbutting Aizawa’s knee, and then disappearing into the shadows with a blink of green eyes and a swish of a striped tail.
“One day, that cat is going to take you all to another universe and I’m not even going to know about it.” Aizawa sighed, glancing at Izuku.
Smiling, Izuku took a sip of his hot chocolate.