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Smoke cleared out the neighboring land as Shigaraki landed hit after hit. Izuku honestly wasn't sure if he'd be able to take another. Up there in that sky, thanks to Bakugo’s explosions, they were completely on their own. He knew there were cameras somewhere, considering his mother's screams as his quirk powered for another blow. This would be the final one, the one that'd defeat All For One and the League of Villains. As he raised his arm to swing it forward, a flash of light pierced across the sky, and he awoke.
Izuku panted as he gasped for air, shooting up from his bed in a hurried daze. He'd been dreaming of the war ever since it ended. It was only a few months ago, yet it felt like just yesterday every time he awoke like this. He hated waking up feeling this. Drenched in sweat with his heart pounding as if he was in danger again. He knew he wasn't, truly, he did! But his body constantly thought otherwise, apparently.
According to the amazing muscle known as his brain, he was constantly being thrown back into the war, where Bakugo was supposedly dead and he was left to die as well.
He knew that didn't happen though.
It was just the memory of it all, and the adrenaline that came with it. The war was over. He had defeated All For One, and the League of Villains along with him. Him, Bakugo, and his whole class! They were actually in the dorm rooms with him.
Even if he was in his room, they were still there, technically. But for some reason, his brain wouldn't let it go. Perhaps it was because he was just 16 at the time, and he still is, and it was a lot to process.
Izuku let out a deep sigh that rattled his body as he slowly stood up from his bed. It was just his luck he’d get trauma from it all. With a quick glance toward the alarm clock on the nightstand, he knew it was 2:13AM. Which was way too early for him to start getting ready for class. However, with the way his whole body felt like a wrack of nerves, he knew there was no way he'd be going back to sleep anytime soon. Sleep seemed to be an issue he'd face every night recently.
However, a nice cup of chamomile tea calmed everything down just enough for him to breathe most nights.
Without further time wasted, Izuku dragged his feet across the floor toward the door and down the hallway of the dormitory. The lights were dim because of the night, and he squinted to see as he followed the carpet all the way to the shared kitchen of the dorm rooms.
His class had gotten into the familiar routine of leaving the light on for whoever’s turn it was to make breakfast in the mornings.
The faint buzz of the lights became more apparent as he entered, and he couldn't help but smile softly at the safe interior. It wasn't often that his school felt like home, but it was times like these (preferably when he wasn't being an insomniac, but this’d work too), where he felt the calmest.
As if on autopilot, Izuku worked around the kitchen to get the coffee pot on and filled with hot water and tea packets. All while grabbing his usual mug, a cute green one with a painted broccoli on the front. It was fitting that it was his, considering he had green bushy hair and darker green eyes.
It was his, and it represented who he’d always be. He recalled who gave it to him fondly. His class did sometime before the war near the holidays.
He never got the chance to use it though, because of the war.
Nobody had expected him to win against All For One. People were scared that he’d take One For All from him. His only quirk, better yet his power, and the only one he’d ever have. He was born without one at first.
Bakugo had made sure he’d known he would be useless without a quirk. He’d been shoved in lockers and been given enough threats all the way up until coming to UA high school to know that.
But, Bakugo had changed, and everybody knew that too. So him winning the war was a big thing. It saved the world. It changed society for the greater good of this hero versus villain civilization.
Izuku stared at the mug as his thoughts continued, as he replayed each event one by one. He remembered seeing Bakugo laying on the ground after someone had punched him straight down with a spike. The force of the hit made wind gush, and he had to wait for the smoke to clear to get a whiff of iron coming from Bakugo. There was a pool of blood, if he remembered correctly. It stung to think about, considering they grew up together.
Then everything else was a blur.
He had stood up and charged after the villain who did it, and then soon enough he’d defeated them. He had learned later on that Bakugo was okay. Aizawa, his teacher, had told him. Also Bakugo kind of sort of came to his room in the hospital, but he was also informed, so both answers made sense.
Izuku and Bakugo were inseparable, and Izuku knew deep down that Aizawa probably assumed so too. But what if Bakugo hadn’t made it? What if Bakugo had died there, on the field where Izuku had fought the League of Villains? Would he have died too if Bakugo didn’t get stabbed?
Each question that came, each new outcome that he’d formed in his head came rushing after the next. Without blinking, the mug Izuku was holding dropped to the ground with a loud crack. It echoed through the dorm kitchen as glass shards spilled across the floor beneath him. Izuku didn’t make a sound as he looked down at it, blinking to find tears welling up in his eyes.
He broke the mug.
He didn’t even get a chance to use it! How could he tell his friends he broke the mug they gave him? He couldn’t bear the thought as he tip-toed over the shards of glass into the pantry to grab the broom.
But as he began to walk back toward the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, the faint sound of another person’s footsteps came into the room. Izuku darted up, eyes looking in every possible direction to find the source of the steps. That’s when his teacher came into view.
“What’re you doing, Midoriya?”Aizawa spoke quietly, and was completely void of emotion.
He was wearing plaid black and white pants, and a white t-shirt to go along with it. As well as pink bunny slippers. It seemed pretty normal to how he usually dressed during school as well. The weirdest thing that Izuku noticed though, was the fact that he didn’t sound mad.
“I dropped a mug,” Izuku replied, matching the older man’s quiet tone as he began to approach his mess of broken glass again.
Aizawa’s eyes narrowed in thought as he watched Izuku go to sweep up the mess.
“Give me the broom, and go sit down.”
Izuku looked up immediately at the statement, almost feeling pressured to argue back and tell him it’s his problem to sort out. His teacher of all people shouldn’t be the one trying to clean up his mess. He was the one who was supposed to fix it, the one who was supposed to change it!
But, with the way Aizawa was now boring his dark red eyes into Izuku’s very soul, he couldn’t bring himself to object.
Reluctantly, he gave up the broom to Aizawa, and sat down at the dining table. He watched carefully as Aizawa took it and swept up the mug. Izuku noticed the light green broccoli in pieces as Aizawa put it in the dustpan, and then threw it away in the trash bin. He didn’t want this humiliation put upon him. He knew that Aizawa was going to punish him for being up this late, or would it be early?
It didn't matter, he'd decided as he planned out what he’d say to the superior if he were questioned. However it was all cut short when he heard the quiet murmur of the black-haired man saying,
“What’s in the coffee pot, or did someone leave it on?”
“I was making tea. But, the mug dropped, so I really can just dump the tea out–”
But before Izuku could finish, Aizawa pulled out a fresh white mug from the cabinets. It was plain, adorned with nothing but a light yellow trim across the handle as he filled it with tea. Then, it was passed to Izuku, and Aizawa sat down across from him.
There was a tension, one that could be sliced with a knife and served on a silver platter. Maybe he didn’t feel it, but Izuku did. It made him uneasy as he brought the mug up to his lips and took a sip.
The tea by this point was a bit cold, but the relief was immediate.
“So, Midoriya,” Aizawa started as he continued to watch Izuku, “why’re you up so late? There’s school tomorrow, you know that,” He tilted his head questioningly as Izuku’s shoulders hunched in on himself.
Izuku knew he looked like a bundle of nerves, or like a lost puppy, but he didn’t want to be questioned like this. Especially after that humiliating experience.
“I, uhm, I couldn’t sleep,” Izuku blurted out as he haphazardly took another sip of the sweet liquid.
“That’s it? You just, miraculously, on a random Monday night, couldn’t sleep? And then get tea?”
“I don’t, I can’t sleep very well very often anymore, Mr. Aizawa. It’s not something I’ve decided on as of late, sir,” Izuku stammered out. He grinned sheepishly as he saw Aizawa’s eyes widen with what seemed to be understanding.
“Well, what’s keeping you from sleeping?” Aizawa asked, curiously staring at Izuku as he pried and picked at every little thing.
It was almost becoming frustrating, he was his teacher, not his parent. Better yet, it was invasive. But nobody had asked him why he couldn’t sleep, and the little part of him that knew that was keeping him from getting mad. His teacher was just concerned. He was his student, after all.
“I’ve had disruptions sleeping, I guess,” Izuku admitted while his face turned a few extra shades of pink.
“So you’ve had nightmares, Midoriya?”
Izuku didn’t respond to that. He was too embarrassed to. It was childish of him, and immature as a hero! He should be able to handle these things on his own, he didn’t need anyone fixing them for him. But, Aizawa seemed to take the hint that he was right, because his eyes softened. He almost looked like a parent. Izuku never saw this side of his teacher, or at least, he didn’t see it often. The last time he remembered seeing it had been during the war.
“Do these nightmares happen to be about the war, Midoriya?”
Izuku took his final sip of his tea as the cup was empty. He couldn’t hide behind it anymore, and he knew he was going to have to talk to someone about it all now.
“They’re not entirely about the war,” Izuku started, but was cut off in an instant.
“Then what’re they about?”
“They’re, they’re complicated,” Izuku stammered defensively, “it’s like, one moment I’m a normal teenager going to the hero school of my dreams, and the next I’m defeating the one villain that had set out to kill and destroy all of Japan. Not to mention, I saw my childhood best friend basically die? And I killed my dad?” He said in all but a breath.
There wasn’t a single moment of silence wasted before Izuku started talking again, not giving his teacher a chance to speak.
“I know he’s back now, but if he wasn’t, then wouldn't it have been my fault? Actually, wasn’t everything my fault? There were literal towns destroyed, Mr. Aizawa, towns, with people’s families and children. Who knows how many people I accidentally killed. And that’s not even covering it all!” Izuku rambled on as his tears were hot and pouring now.
The mug was abandoned on the table as Izuku poured his heart out. But for some odd reason, Aizawa just listened. His eyes would widen and squint at every little detail, paying close attention, and not commenting on the salty tears streaming past the kid’s eyebags.
Once Izuku finished, he was gasping for air. He stared at Aizawa now, more tears running down his face at a slower pace than before.
“It’s not your fault, Izuku. You saved Japan, even if there were risks taken,” Aizawa finally said as he broke the silence.
“But, that’s not even all of it, and it’s still my fault. You don’t understand it, Mr. Aizawa,”
“Then help me understand. Talk to me, kid,” Aizawa spoke softly as he was now up from his seat and kneeling in front of Izuku’s chair to be the same height as the kid.
He didn’t even know when he moved, but Izuku bawled nonetheless. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much that kept him up at night. He didn’t know why he kept it bottled up.
Maybe there was too much going on, to the point where he couldn’t find someone to talk to. But he wasn’t alone here, because his teacher, his guardian, was right here for him. So Izuku talked until his throat ran dry, and his eyes were puffy and red.
By the time he was done, hours surely had gone by, but Aizawa had stayed awake and attentive to listen to it all. He even helped him walk back to his room, and tucked him in!
It would’ve been bizarre if Izuku didn’t just feel so much better after it all. He felt lighter as he fell into one of the deepest sleeps he’s had in MONTHS. He was almost excited to go to school the next morning, as he’d woken up with more than three hours of sleep for the first time in a long time.
—
The next night, Izuku woke up again from a similar nightmare. He stumbled out of bed just the same as the night before.
His heart was racing, and his thoughts were all kinds of scrambled as he trudged himself into the kitchen. He reached up into the cabinet with intent as he grabbed the same mug from the night before that Aizawa had given his tea in.
It was slightly stained by the chamomile tea now, with a slight green tint. But it was almost like a fresh start.
Before he could get the tea packets though, there was the notable sound of a door creaking. Izuku turned around to see who it was, and saw none other than Aizawa standing there.
His body felt like mush as he smiled at his teacher. He wasn’t alone now.
“Nightmare?”
“Nightmare,” Izuku confirmed with a nod.
“Tea?”
“Tea for two, if you want a cup,” Izuku replied, pulling down another mug from the cabinet as he also grabbed the tea packets.
Aizawa smiled at the offer as he approached the kid, ushering him to sit down as he began to make the tea himself.
“That sounds great, kid,” Aizawa eventually said as he turned on the coffee pot with hot water. And as the tea finished, and the mugs were distributed, Aizawa talked to Izuku thoughtfully.
Izuku’s eyes teared up this time, but not from the sadness in his chest. He knew he could get rid of it now.
Even if the war was traumatizing, he wasn’t alone anymore, and he knew it.
“You alright kid? You’re tearing up again,”
“I’m fine, just, feeling safe here,” Izuku laughed out as Aizawa looked perplexed at him.
“If you say so,” Aizawa grumbled, but couldn’t help but smile back.
Izuku could tell by the way his lips curved in the corners, almost into a smirk. He knew he wouldn’t be left in the dark ever again, not on a field, not in school, and never again.