MHA Sickfic

Day 10

      Izuku's nightmare is filled with vague figures, tugging at his limbs with spindly fingers, tearing at his skin with razor claws. He swims in uncertainty, unable to do more than twist away from them, a looming dread weighing him down, crushing him, stealing his breath. He has to escape. He writhes, scrabbling for purchase in the air until suddenly he's falling through an unchanging expanse of grey. He needs to escape. He needs help. Please.

"Someone help me."

He bolts upright in his bed, chest heaving but tight with panic. The fear clings to him, the fear of claws, of falling, of death. His head throbs to the rhythm of his elevated pulse and his body hums with adrenaline. In the darkness, he sees shadowed eyes watching him, staring down at him from hazy grey faces. Surrounding him. Suffocating him. He fists the damp fabric over his chest, knuckles white as he focuses on the pounding of his terrified heart, forcing himself to breathe into splintering lungs as the spectres turn back into the smiling face of his mentor. He releases a choked sob, his throat dry and cracked. Fumbling bleary-eyed for his nightstand, he feels the cool of ceramic and manages to drink the now cold mint tea. It soothes his throat but almost immediately a wave of nausea rolls over him. He scrambles out of bed, skinning his knees on the bathroom tiles as his stomach heaves, the retch accompanied by a pained whimper. His vision blurs with white spots and tears as he clings to the rim, gasping for breaths between each caustic gag.

After an eternity he rocks back, pulling his knees into his chest as he trembles; from fear or cold he doesn't know. The crawl back to his bed leaves him aching and panting for each excruciating breath as his consciousness retreats.

Some time later, the ping of a notification wrests him into consciousness with a pained whine. Another one, the sound piercingly shrill to his oversensitive ears. He fumbles for his phone but it thumps onto the floor and any attempt to follow it is met with overwhelming dizziness and nausea, triggering panicked breaths as his earlier fear encroaches once more, creeping over him and raising goosebumps on his skin. He stills, trapped by it and willing his stomach to settle, but it only grows more agitated, overwhelming him until he's hunched over and spitting strings of bile as the cold tiles bite into his knees. He wipes his mouth with a trembling hand and lurches to unsteady feet, intending to go back to bed, but all the power drains from his aching limbs. His foot catches on the carpet and he pitches forward, twisting awkwardly as he slumps against his bedframe with a broken whimper.

Xxxxxx

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Bakugo pounds lazily on Izuku's door.

"Oi, Deku," he calls. "What's the deal? You left me to feed the fuckin' circus on my own." He sounds indignant but it's mostly an exaggeration; most of their classmates were well enough now to make their own toast so he had let them at it, even if a few had whined about it.

"What's up Bakubro?" The still pale but newly arisen Kirishima greets, clapping a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

"I dunno," the blonde mutters, "Deku!-" he shouts before dropping his volume back down, "hasn't left his fucking room all morning and isn't answering his phone." He turns back to the door and Kirishima watches him worriedly; not only had the blonde not balked at the use of that nickname, he hasn't yet shrugged of the redhead's hand.

"Oi! Answer me, nerd." Hi tone is baiting but Kirishima can hear the concerned edge. A prickle of dread tickles his spine as he raises his own free hand to knock:

"If you won't answer him, I'm here too and I'm not grumpy."

That earns him a glare but there's still no response.