It feels strange to be so tired.

Sure, All Might's ten month training regime was rough, even without his own... personalizations... but that kind of training, that kind of intensity, felt right. At the end of each day he had been totally drained, but it made sense: all his energy was being shoveled into making sure his body could accept One For All, so that he could even have a shot at getting into U.A. He was grateful to feel so tired, happy even. But this kind of exhaustion feels different. It feels different from those months of training, and it feels different than the day-to-day tiredness he's felt since starting high school. U.A. is demanding. The classwork, homework, training, sparring––it's all to prepare them for lives and careers as pros, so of course it's challenging. But despite all this, Izuku doesn't think he's ever been this damn tired before.

He just can't figure it out. He goes to class, he takes his notes, he trains, he spars, he does his homework, he texts his mom, he watches Kirishima and Sero play video games, he listens to Hagakure and Ashido gossip about the upperclassmen––the same as usual. In fact, if anything, he should be feeling less worn, seeing as he doesn't even have to commute to school every day by train anymore. It just doesn't make sense.

"Midoriya, any input?"

He's tried to sleep earlier, but he already calculated the maximum amount of sleep he can get and still have time for homework and studying. Sleeping earlier wouldn't equate to sleeping better, anyway. He has no problems falling asleep, it's staying that way that's been giving him strife. He thinks dreams might be the cause, but he can never remember anything upon waking––the only thing that stays with him from his supposed nightmares is the rapid beating of his heart in his chest. But maybe he's not dreaming. Maybe his body is playing a trick on him, and that's why he keeps waking up at 2 AM everyday and can't fall back asleep.

"Hey, Midoriya. Pay attention."

But that's not right, either. He must fall back asleep, after hours of staring at his ceiling or counting backwards from 500 or scrolling endlessly through the internet, because he wakes up in the morning after all, spurred out of bed by the shrieking of his alarms or Iida knocking insistently at his door. He can't wake up if he's not asleep.

"Midoriya?"

He keeps missing his alarms, even though he keeps setting more of them, louder. Yesterday, he slept all the way through breakfast and barely had enough time to get dressed and get to class on time. It threw him, for sure. Uraraka commented how tired he looked, Iida too. Even finishing his lunch had felt like too much work, so he didn't. After class, during the break before dinner, he fell asleep studying in the common room. When he woke up his heart still raced, but all the lights were off and a blanket was draped around his shoulders. It was light pink and smelled like Uraraka's bedroom. He still had it in his room. He needed to give it back.

He slept through breakfast today, too. "Midoriya."

"Deku?"

He knows that there's graphite and ink smeared all over the side of his hand and wrist, and he knows that his pen is stopped in the middle of his notebook page. He knows that he feels something like exhaustion pressing on him from all sides. It smothers his head, makes his thoughts fleeting and cottony, makes his body slow to react. He's having trouble concentrating. He can't focus his eyes. He's so tired. And his stomach hurts. He doesn't even know how that's possible, seeing as it's basically empty––

"Midoriya Izuku."

A thick textbook falls from Aizawa's hand onto Izuku's desk with a loud bang that echoes off the walls. Izuku startles badly. He flinches upward and backward in his seat in a way that might be comical if it weren't for the genuine fear in his wide eyes and the way his chest heaves. He slowly turns those eyes to his homeroom teacher, who looms close from the aisle between Bakugo and Jiro. He didn't even notice Aizawa approach, but at least the shock wakes him up a little.

"S-Sorry, sir! Aizawa, sir!" How long had he been zoned out for?

"Paying attention isn't optional, Mr. Midoriya."

"Yes, sir."

"Even you can learn something from Homeroom class, I promise."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Aizawa." Izuku swallows and hopes no one can hear his voice shake, though with how loud his heart is pounding in his ears, he wouldn't be surprised if his classmates could hear that.

Seemingly satisfied, Aizawa stalks back to his place in front of the chalkboard. When he turns back to face his students, his bloodshot, shadowed eyes narrow on Izuku.

"Midoriya." "Yes, sir!" "Are you well?"

The class stills. Everyone is focused on the two of them. Izuku can hardly take a breath. He's tired of everyone always looking at him. What's wrong with Deku now? they must all be thinking. It's always something.

But it's nothing. He's fine. Just tired, right? But he's been tired before. And he'll be tired again.

He swallows again and stares straight ahead, not daring to look at anyone at all. "I'm fine, Mr. Aizawa."

"Hm. You don't look "fine" to me."

He doesn't know how to respond. His face heats up, so he knows it must be red, which really can't be helping him right now. "I'm––I'm okay! Don't worry about me!" He's not helping. He knows he's not helping. He can't believe he got his teacher invested over something as stupid as being tired.

Aizawa doesn't break his gaze. "Unfortunately, it is my job to worry about you, as well as the other nineteen students in this class. If you're ill, I can't have you getting everyone else sick too."

–––Innocuous, really, but a memory, long buried–––

He's young, too young for this, holding his All MightTM branded lunchbox to his chest, a whole room of tables and chairs and students before him, people laughing as he stands on the threshold.

"Ewww, get outta here, Quirkless freak!"
"Yeah, don't get too close, you'll catch his Quirklessness!"
"What kind of disease does he have that he doesn't have a Quirk?"

–––Mr. Aizawa couldn't have known, that was a long time ago, it's less than a dream now, he's fine, just fine––

"...and you're doing it again. Okay. Get up. Now."

Izuku slams back into the present. "Sir?" Oh no. He zoned out again. Now he's gonna get it. It's not like he doesn't deserve it, though.

"Go see Recovery Girl. Let her take a look at you." A jolt runs through him. "Mr. Aizawa––!"

"It's not up for discussion. Go." Aizawa's lips twist into an even deeper frown, clearly not in the mood to argue with his young, stupid pupil. "You've wasted enough class time as it is."

Izuku's legs push him up, his chair scraping noisily against the floor. Standing really shouldn't feel like an accomplishment, but it does. His heart beats faster as he steps forward. He doesn't even know what Recovery Girl will even say. Go to sleep earlier? Study less? Eat more vegetables?

Maybe she'll tell him, "Stop being pathetic." Maybe she'll say, "The reason you're so tired is because you're weak." Maybe she'll tell him, "Did you really think someone like you could actually be a hero?"

Taking two steps really shouldn't feel like an achievement, but it does. Izuku feels the whole class track him. They're looking at him because they know he's weak. They all know. They've all known. He's the only one out of the loop.

He's so tired.

Izuku reaches the end of the aisle. He doesn't feel right, but he doesn't know how he does feel. Maybe not sick. Maybe not all there. He turns and tries to ignore his quickening breaths as he passes Aizawa's desk, the man still staring him down.

The growing lightheadedness overtakes him and he doesn't make it to the door. His vision, already greying at the edges, turns white, then black. For a moment, he feels like Uraraka has tapped him with her Quirk, except his body goes down instead of up.

The entirety of class 1-A watches as, mid step, Midoriya goes limp. His knees hit the ground hard, followed by the rest of his body.

"Deku!"
Aizawa doesn't catch him, but he's kneeling beside him in an instant. "Everyone, stay in your seats."

His voice might not be as loud as Mic's, but it certainly still holds power. The half of the class that's halfway out of their seats freezes and settles back down. Uraraka's hand digs into Iida's shoulder. Todoroki cranes his neck, the red of his scar stark against his paling complexion.

Their teacher bends down and taps the side of Izuku's face. "Hey. Midoriya. No sleeping in class." Nothing. His eyelids don't even twitch.

Aizawa sighs. He looks down at the kid out cold on the tiled floor and slides one arms under his shoulders and another around his knees. He rolls him, and with a practiced motion, one almost graceful, he rises to his feet. With Midoriya unconscious in his arms, he addresses the horrified class.

"Okay. Silent study hall. Study or something. It's almost time for English anyway. Iida, Yaoyorozu, try to maintain some semblance of order until then. I'll be right back." Without another word, he's out the door and heading down the hall in the direction of the nurse's office.

Oh, this damn kid.

Aizawa glances down. He better not have secret internal bleeding or some mystery injury he's refused to have treated. That hasn't happened, yet, but it's only a matter of time. More likely is that the kid's been pushing himself too hard. Too much studying or sparring or training. Everyone has their limits. Each of these kids would learn that, in time. It's part of becoming a hero. But why does it feel like only Midoriya learns these hard lessons in the hardest ways?

The young hero in his arms shifts, then groans. Good. That's good. It's been long enough. Despite the movement, Aizawa holds him fast.

Another soft groan. As he comes back to awareness, it's the movement that throws Izuku off, makes him open his eyes before he's entirely acclimated. He stares in confusion at the hall ceiling, at the arms surrounding him. "Mr. Aizawa...? What––?" And his head is killing him, which is what he really needs right now, on top of everything.

"You fainted in class. I'm bringing you to Recovery Girl so she can find out why."

Another groan, this one louder, with a more ragged edge. Izuku covers his face with his hands. He could die from embarrassment. He could die. He wishes Aizawa would drop him right here in the hall so he could crawl off school grounds, crawl back home to his mom, or maybe crawl into a gutter and––

"Hey. Cut that out."

With a start, Izuku relaxes his hands. He's gripped his face hard enough that his nails leave behind faint, half-moon indents in the skin of his forehead. Any harder and he could've drawn blood. But he doesn't pull his hands back.

"Can you walk?" They're still moving.
"I can try." He doesn't think he can walk.

"Hm. Pro tip: if you don't know if you can do something, you probably can't." Aizawa adjusts his hold. "It's not worth finding out. We're almost there."

Izuku is silent as they finish their journey. His teacher pushes the door to the nurse's office open with his back and swings in. Recovery Girl, seated at her desk nearby, makes a noise of surprise and gets to her feet. She gestures at the closest bed.

"Oh, dear. What's happened now?"

Aizawa places Izuku down with unspeakable gentleness and takes a few steps back. "Young Midoriya here has been looking ill all period. When I told him to go see you he fainted before he even made it out of the classroom."

Izuku could die. His face is the same shade as his shoes and he has yet to remove his hands. He fainted. In front. Of the. Whole. Class. In front of Aizawa. In front of Kacchan. In front of Uraraka. He rubs at his eyes and groans.

"I thought I told you to cut that out. Stop messing with your face already."

He doesn't. He hears Recovery Girl move around him and words fall aimlessly from his lips. A blood pressure cuff is slipped over his sleeve and inflated. "I'm okay, really, I'm sorry, I'm fine, don't worry about me, I'm okay, really."

A small hm. "Mr. Midoriya, when was the last time you ate?"

He freezes. He knows Recovery Girl and Mr. Aizawa are expecting him to say "This morning, at breakfast." He knows they're not expecting him to hesitate, to have to think about the answer. He should just lie, but he doesn't. His voice is shaky, like the rest of him, when he finally speaks.

"I slept through breakfast."
He doesn't see the two heroes exchange a certain look.

"I didn't see you at dinner last night." Aizawa's voice is low, almost like there's a note of warning in it.

Izuku swallows. He should have lied. Inevitable tears slip out from under his eyelids and seep beneath the pads of his fingers. Damn it, damn this. He's fine. He's not weak, he swears, he is a hero, he does belong here. He's just tired. He's just so tired.

No. No. He is weak. It's past time somebody else finally noticed.

"I missed it." His voice is wet. "I fell asleep."

A larger hmm. "Yes, that'll do it," Recovery Girl says dryly. "You can rest up here for a short while, but you need to eat something. I'll be right back." She heads towards a door off to the side, but stops with her hand against it, looking back at Aizawa. "Oh, Shota? Though he is your student, remember that he is also my patient." She gives him a hard, even stare before passing through the door.

At any other time, Izuku would be analyzing that interaction, but he can't quite grasp it. Some of his dizziness has returned, and he swells with a feeling that seizes his lungs and throat. It scratches at his collarbone. He hardly notices that his hands have slid from his face until he realizes that Aizawa has gotten closer to the bed, and is staring down at him.

"You haven't been sleeping." It almost feels like an accusation.

Izuku blinks slowly. What gave it away? he wants to ask, but doesn't. He swallows, and his teacher speaks before he can reply.

"How long?" "What?"

"How long has it been?"

He finds his voice. "I sleep. Just not always. And... not for very long." To admit it feels forbidden, like he's confessed to a crime or confirmed a huge secret. The act of telling Aizawa feels strange, but he doesn't have the energy to concoct a lie. He's sure his teacher would be able to see through it in an instant, anyway.

"How long do you sleep for, before waking back up?"

He shrugs. "A few hours. I usually wake up around two." What kind of hero is too weak to even sleep through the night?

"I see. I'll ask again. How long have you been unable to sleep? Since moving into the dorms?" Izuku has to think about it.

Was that it? The move? That would be a pretty straightforward reason: his old life, usurped, turned upside down, no longer living with his mom, the symbolic and abrupt end to his childhood. A completely valid excuse as to why he hasn't been sleeping. He should just nod in relief, offer a weak smile, say something like Yes, that must be it. But it's not. Not quite.

When was the last time he had slept through the night? He'd been sleeping poorly before the move, since––now it dawns on him––since he was in the hospital. After the... the attack on the training camp. His mind touches a whirling knot of memories and he recoils.

Dear God. Has it really been that long?

When he looks down at his arms to avoid his teacher's stare it's as if he expects them to be covered in bloody bandages instead of by his uniform sleeves. Covered in bandages and casts, full of tubes and needles:

"I refuse to heal this sort of injury from now on. Enough with this self-destruction."
"I'd give you two or three more times, but if you keep getting injured like this... you may

permanently lose the use of your arms."

He absently rubs at the places he knows his scars to be. He doesn't want to think about how many scars he's earned in the first semester alone. Then he might get trapped in memory, or start thinking about how many scars he has yet to gain. Maybe he really isn't fit to be a––

"Midoriya?"

Mr. Aizawa almost sounds concerned. The change in the tone of his voice blinks Izuku mostly back to the present reality, but the dregs of a memory cling stubbornly and hold him back: Kacchan, seized in front of him. Right in his reach. Being powerless to stop him from slipping away, from being taken.

His heart clenches like someone punched through his ribcage and squeezed. His breath catches. The feeling hasn't left. Even though Kacchan is fine––even though he sits in front of him in class and ignores him or sneers at him, even though he sleeps just a few floors away, even though he's safe––his heart just can't seem to unclench.

He clears his throat. "I think it's been a while."
"Thank you for your honesty. You looked like you wanted to lie." Aizawa sniffs and thumbs the top

of his cheekbone, right below his eye. "Now I'll be honest: you look exhausted."

Izuku touches his face again instead of answering. The indentions on his forehead from his nails have faded. His fingertips travel lower. Hm. Maybe the skin just beneath his waterline does feel thinner. He'll have to find a mirror, to see if the shadows under his eyes are too pronounced. They can't be that noticeable though, Iida and Uraraka only said something to him today.

They noticed. They noticed that he overslept again, that he was wrinkled and tired and out of it. But he can't remember what he told them, how he brushed them off. He's let this whole not sleeping thing get out of hand. That's all. He can't have his friends worrying about him like this.

Aizawa's own eyes have slid closed. He feels the watch face on his wrist and frowns at the time. There's only a couple of minutes left in the class period. So much for his be right back. He hopes the young fools haven't blown themselves to bits, but he figures he'd probably hear the explosions.

He sighs. "I have no doubt half the class is going to come barreling down here to try to see you any minute."

"I don't want to see anyone." Not. Not yet.
"Like that was ever an option." Without another word, he leaves the office.

He stands in front of the door, guarding it like a sentinel. Ninety seconds after the period officially ends, as he suspected, Class 1-A comes raring down the hall. The front lines falter at the sight of their teacher, but still press on, coming to a stop a generous distance away.

Uraraka looks like she hasn't stopped fretting since they left for the office. She worries her lower lip between her teeth and doesn't hesitate to address Aizawa outright. "Mr. Aizawa, is D––ah, Midoriya okay?"

"Yes." That's all they're getting.

Some of his students seem comforted by his direct and immediate answer, but not all. Kirishima frowns. "Well, can we see him?"

"No."
A collective aww, come on!

"No, you can't see him, you'll be more late for English class than you all already are." His eyes narrow, but he knows because of the circumstance, Mic won't give them a hard time about it. Unfortunately. He's not sure if these kids will ever learn the discipline they need. "If he's feeling better, maybe you can visit him during break. Maybe."

He raises his head and looks out at the students before him. He's not surprised to see everyone but Bakugo. Well, that can't be helped. His class may have been cut short, but there's always room for a lecture. All Might would be so, so much better at this, but Yagi's not here right now, so he'll have to try his best.

Aizawa jams his thumb back at the closed door. "That's what happens when you're on the Hero track and you skip breakfast." He folds his arms. "Being a Hero is akin to being a professional athlete, but on a completely different scale. You are all familiar with your respective training regimens, and how intensive they can be. But, on top of that," ––now here he uses his best (worst?) TeacherTM voice–– "you are all growing and developing young men and women." He lets his works soak in for just a moment. "You need every calorie you can get. So don't skip meals, and you won't

pass out in class and end up like Midoriya. Okay?" "Yes, Mr. Aiz––"
"Shut up, and go to class!"

Most of them go dashing back the way they've just come, but not all. Unsurprising, Uraraka and Iida haven't moved from their places at the front of the crowd, and Kirishima, Asui, and Todoroki purposefully linger not far.

Iida speaks first. "Mr. Aizawa, sir! I know English class will be starting soon, but I was hoping, as––"

"I certainly hope you're not trying to use your position as Class President as leverage to check up on Midoriya."

"Sir, I would never abuse my privileges in such a way!" Iida takes a moment to collect himself. "I ask, not as Class President, but as Midoriya's friend––may we see him?"

"We're really worried about him." Asui's voice is quiet but distinct. "He is fine, right?" A crease has appeared in Todoroki's brow.
Oh, these kids.

Aizawa sighs, something he's been doing a lot of today. "Yes, he is. But he's worn out and he needs to rest. And you all need to get to class." He can tell by their faces and body language that they're disappointed, that they want to protest. "You can all come back and see him after class."

They want to fight the dismissal, but they know it's no use, so they don't. Aizawa watches them sigh and shoot him big eyed looks and drag their feet until they round the corner, out of sight. Then he heads back inside.

Recovery Girl is gently nudging a sleeping––or passed out––Midoriya awake. There's a very large bowl of very white rice steaming on the table beside the bed. Midoriya's eyes open after some coaxing, and it takes a few seconds more for him to gain any sort of grasp on his surroundings. Aizawa watches with his hands in his pockets.

"You can rest in just a bit, dear, but you do need to eat first. If you fall asleep without eating something, you'll wake up worse off than when you first arrived."

"I don't feel hungry. Just tired."

"You might not, but the reason you have no energy is because you haven't been properly fueling your body. This rice is fortified with vitamins and protein, so you should start feeling better soon."

The damn kid still opens his mouth to protest. He never stops, does he? "Eating isn't optional, Midoriya."

"Okay, okay." He takes another breath and swings himself upright.

Aizawa watches all the remaining color drain from his face. His body moves without thinking and in an instant he's beside his pupil, a hand on his shoulder. "Breathe through it. Come on. Breathe."

Izuku looks like he's gonna be sick. He takes a few shallow breaths, swallows, but remains both conscious and upright. After a few tense seconds, when it's evident that he's mostly stable, Recovery

Girl offers again the bowl of rice and a pair of chopsticks. Midoriya takes both with shaking hands.

"Sorry. Thanks." He looks at the bowl and starts to eat. He did promise his mom that he would eat all his rice.

"No need to apologize, just eat up." Recovery Girl busies herself pulling the privacy curtain around his bed. When she's finished, she turns to Aizawa. "Don't keep him too long, alright? He still needs to rest."

He inclines his head in response, and she smiles at him and his student before making her way to her desk.

Aizawa lowers himself into the chair by the bed and watches Midoriya eat. The boy is focused on the food in front of him and takes measured, deliberate bites, careful not to spill despite the slight tremors wracking his arms. Aizawa should just drop the Hound a letter in his mailbox or something. As guidance counselor, a student's overall wellbeing in mind as well as body is his chief responsibility, let him worry about one problem child's inability to take care of himself.

Yeah, right. Izuku sat in his class for weeks, third row, by the windows, in plain sight. And he didn't do a damn thing. This was on him.

"You can't not eat. Just like you can't not sleep. You need to have a functioning body if you want to be a hero, but your body only works as well as you treat it." They all learn this lesson eventually, in some shape or form.

Midoriya freezes. His head hangs over his bowl and his hair hangs in front of his face, but Aizawa doesn't need to see his eyes to know he's trying not to cry. "I." He stops, swallows, and tries again. "I know that. Okay? I know. I know."

"You haven't had an easy time of it. Especially not lately. But if nothing else––take care of yourself for you. We can't always control our circumstances but we can control how we respond to them. We can control what we do, or what we don't do."

"I didn't mean to let it get this bad."

"I'm sure you didn't. It's not all your fault. I should have noticed something was bothering you weeks ago."

"But––"

"I can't control my students' behaviors or actions, but I control how I act with the information I gather. I have control over if I let some behaviors continue or cease. And if I can't control that, then at least I know I can control if a student stays enrolled in U.A. or not. No matter what, you have more control than you think, Midoriya. For example, you can choose to get help, or you can choose to continue to waste away."

Izuku makes a choking noise. "I'm so tired!"

With careful hands, Aizawa takes the chopsticks and half eaten bowl of rice and puts them aside. He places his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Then rest, Midoriya. Whatever you're holding onto, whatever it is––if you can't let it go for good yet, then put it down for a little while." His voice gets quieter. "You know you're not alone in this, right?"

He's crying in earnest now, muffled sobs pressed into his hands.

"You're choosing to carry this all yourself. But you can trust other people, like me, and your other teachers, and your friends. You will have many adversaries in your life, young Midoriya, and you cannot let one of those be yourself."

Aizawa gently presses the boy back against the pillows. Tears and snot drip down Midoriya's face, and he wipes at his nose and eyes as he tries to get a grip. "Mr. Aizawa, I––"

"Stop. You don't have to say anything right now. Just sleep, okay?" A hiccup. "Okay."

Izuku curls in on himself. He looks a little silly, lying on top of the blankets and sheets, fully clothed, but his eyes are already closing.

Quietly, quietly, Aizawa extracts himself and settles into the chair next to the bed. He thinks about everything he had planned to do the rest of day and in his mind's eye watches those plans dissolve: notes written to himself, scrawled in margins and on scraps of paper, meetings scheduled weeks ago, paperwork to file, naps to take.

Well. He can probably manage a nap. He's definitely slept in worse places than this chair before. He can't go far, though; he knows he needs to be there when Midoriya wakes up.

They have a lot to talk about.

a/n: Cross-posted on Ao3 (Spineless). Thanks for reading. Feedback always appreciated.