Shinso stumbled upon Izuku in the park, a whirlwind of emotions coursing through him. Relief clashed with the shock of the message he had received, creating an uneasy tension in the air. Shinso's initial reaction was a mix of panic and gratitude, grateful for finding Izuku safe but still grappling with the gravity of the situation.
"Izuku, what the hell were you thinking?" Shinso's voice wavered between concern and frustration.
Izuku, caught off guard by Shinso's sudden appearance, struggled to meet his eyes. "I... I didn't want you to worry. I thought I was protecting you."
Shinso's expression softened, and he sighed. "Protecting us by doing something like that? You scared the shit out of me."
Izuku's eyes glistened with unshed tears, the weight of Shinso's words sinking in. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't know what else to do."
Shinso, torn between the relief of finding Izuku alive and the distress caused by the situation, pulled him into a tight embrace. "Don't do that again, idiot. We're all here for you."
As they stood there, the emotions between them were palpable—the fear of loss, the relief of finding each other, and the understanding that they were bound by something deeper than friendship. In that moment, amidst the emotional storm, they found solace in the shared vulnerability that comes with genuine connection.
———
Mina's tap on Izuku's shoulder broke the somber moment, and she offered him a warm hug before stepping back. "Text me when you're ready, okay? We're all here for you."
Todoroki, lingering nearby, continued to watch over Izuku, a silent guardian in the shadows. Eventually, Izuku turned to him with a small, grateful smile. "Thanks for being there, Todoroki."
Todoroki nodded, understanding the weight of unspoken emotions. He handed Izuku his phone number, his expression serious. "Call me if you ever feel like that again. You're not alone in this."
Izuku accepted the gesture, saving the number with a nod. "I will. Thanks, Todoroki."
With a final glance at the group of friends who had rallied around him, Izuku felt a glimmer of hope.
———
Hitoshi sensed Izuku's rising panic and tried to calm him down, but Izuku, trapped in his own whirlwind of guilt and fear, refused to share the source of his distress. The weight of the suicide note he had sent to Aizawa hung heavy on his conscience, and the fear of disappointing the one person who had consistently believed in him intensified his anxiety.
Hitoshi's attempts to reassure him became a desperate plea. "Izuku, you need to tell me what's going on. We can't help you if you don't talk to us."
Izuku's hands shook as he ran them through his hair, unable to articulate the turmoil within him. The guilt clawed at him, the realization that he had caused so much worry and pain threatening to suffocate him.
"I messed up everything," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "I hurt everyone who cares about me."
Hitoshi's expression softened with understanding, but the urgency in his eyes remained. "We can work through this together, but you have to let us in. Aizawa and Mic are worried sick. Let us help you."
As Hitoshi reached out to offer support, Izuku grappled with the choice to reveal the darkest corners of his thoughts. The fear of judgment and disappointment battled against the need for understanding and connection, leaving him teetering on the edge of vulnerability.
—
Mic entered the scene, his eyes widening at the sight of Izuku in distress, tears streaming down his face. Hitoshi looked up, relief crossing his face at Mic's arrival.
"Thank goodness you're both okay," Mic said, his voice laced with genuine concern.
Izuku, caught in the tumult of his emotions, struggled to articulate his thoughts. "I'm sorry. I messed everything up. I didn't mean to worry everyone."
Mic approached Izuku gently, his usual boisterous energy replaced with a calm reassurance. "Hey, it's okay. We're just glad you're here. You're not alone in this, kid."
But Izuku couldn't shake the feeling of weakness, each tear that fell intensifying his self-judgment. "I shouldn't be crying. I'm sorry for being so weak."
Mic's expression softened. "Crying doesn't make you weak, Izuku. It's okay to feel, and it's okay to lean on others when you need to. We care about you."
The conflicting emotions whirled within Izuku, torn between the ingrained belief that vulnerability was a form of weakness and the genuine comfort Mic was offering. It was a clash of old wounds and newfound support, leaving him feeling exposed and uncertain.
As Mic continued to provide a comforting presence, Hitoshi hovered nearby, silently supporting Izuku. The room became a haven of conflicting emotions, where the weight of past struggles collided with the potential for healing and understanding.
-
Aizawa arrived at the park, his usually composed demeanor shattered by the fear of losing someone he cared deeply about. His eyes welled up as he approached the scene, finding Izuku in a state of emotional turmoil. Without a word, Aizawa enveloped him in a tight embrace, clinging to him as if afraid he might disappear.
Izuku leaned into the embrace, seeking solace in the familiar presence of the man who had been a pillar of support in his life. Aizawa's tears fell freely, mingling with Izuku's, as the weight of the shared emotions hung heavy in the air.
Aizawa, with a trembling voice, murmured, "I thought I lost you, kid."
Izuku's response was a choked sob, his own emotions a turbulent storm. Aizawa held him tighter, a silent reassurance that he was here and that he cared.
Finally, as the storm of emotions began to settle, Aizawa checked Izuku over for injuries, the concern etched across his face. The visible relief in his eyes when he confirmed that Izuku was physically okay mirrored the emotional release that washed over him.
Aizawa, still holding Izuku close, took a deep breath, his voice steady despite the lingering tremor. "Izuku, listen to me. You're not alone. You have a family now, and I'm your dad. Not by blood, but by choice."
He gently pulled back, cupping Izuku's tear-streaked face in his hands, meeting his gaze with unwavering sincerity. "You mean everything to me. You belong here with us. We love you, and we're going to work through this together. You don't have to carry the weight alone anymore."
Aizawa's words carried the weight of genuine care and a promise to support Izuku through whatever struggles lay ahead. In that moment, the makeshift family in the park became a source of strength, a haven for healing, and a reminder to Izuku that he was valued, loved, and belonged.
Aizawa spoke with a determined yet comforting tone. "I meant what I said, Izuku. I'm not going to let you slip through the cracks. You have a safety net now. When you fall, I'll be there to help you back up. You're not alone anymore because I'm here, and so is the rest of your family. We've got you."
