Work Text:
there wasnt a build up to what happened.
at least, not one that class 1A had seen. everything on paper, and even from an outsider's perspective, was fine.
it was a friday, classes were almost over, and itsuki had looked tired.
(when did he not?)
the bags under his eyes had gotten darker, like he hadnt been sleeping well, and he never took off his hoodie. not unusual, considering how much the teen loved his hoodies.
sometimes his breathing sounded labored, and he seemed a little more closed off, but finals were coming up! so everyone was a little stressed.
(and a lot careless.)
and then it was friday evening and itsuki was staring out the window of his dorm room, heterochromic eyes tracing the wide expanses of blue and purple that blended into one another and faded into a warm orange the closer they got to the sun.
it was peaceful, it was fall - itsuki's favorite season - and the air outside was cool and breatheable.
(so why was he finding it so hard to breathe?)
all it took was one glance to his right, where the boy's medically approved bottles of pills sat and the thought wormed its way to the forefront of his mind.
it'd be so easy.
itsuki sits for another half hour or maybe longer - he's in a dissociative sort of mindset, time is relevant - before he makes his decision and stands, bypassing the bedside table of pill bottles entirely.
(because pills were too scary - all of that suffering and pain.)
(and what if he lived? he sort of hoped someone would save him if he did it would fuck up his kidneys for a long fucking time.)
(so he ignored them.)
instead, he opens a lower desk drawer (no one would look) and grabbed his favorite pocket knife (because the thought of using his own claws was a little disturbing - but then again, when did he care about such things?) and headed to his attached bathroom.
itsuki watched as the tub slowly filled with warm water, and he slipped off his hoodie, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and ditched his pants before climbing in.
a brief mental image of his classmates' (friend's) faces shot through his mind like lightning -
(of his adopted parents' faces-)
(of hitoshi's face.)
as he put the blade to his wrist. dimly, he notes that his hands are shaking.
for a moment, he stares. his tail sways through the water, hind paws flexing and an ear twitch, and then? he runs the knife along his arm.
horizontal lines first, far up on his upper bicep and deeper than he's ever cut before.
(but he hadn't been cutting to kill then, had he?)
he watches as the blood pours (because there was no other way to explain the way it flowed so quickly) down his arm - staining the blade red. itsuki then tilts his arm to be held in front of him and lines the blade up vertically along his vein.
his heart pounds and his hands shake, but he feels nothing.
he was tired of feeling nothing.
the cut is deep - so deep that instead of even pouring, the blood spurts from the wound, flecks of it spraying across the bridge of his nose like freckles from hell.
itsuki hisses and inhales as his arm throbs, warmth traveling from the spot where his hand blended into his wrist to his shoulder. hastily - lightheadedly - he hurries to do the same on his right.
this line isnt as deep, or as straight, affected by the adrenaline and blood loss that makes the teen's head spin.
with the lines made, everything he needed to do done, itsuki lets the knife slip from his bloody, shaking hands and plunk into the water of the tub.
there is the sound of nothing, of a silence that buzzes, of his mind going fuzzy as his arms drop into the water.
the crimson is so pretty, the way it spirals up from his wounds and dances through the water - tracing pictures of the spider lillies that used to show up on izuku's desk, of the glare of crimson eyes that turned hitoshi into a nervous wreck, of the bruises that his mum used to give him and of the faces of itsuki's adopted parents - aizawa and yamada.
with the last of his mental power, itsuki sends an apology to whatever god may or may not be listening, to the only two adults who had ever given him a taste of a proper childhood.
and then itsuki sleeps.
ida's friday evening did not start so similarly.
he left the study session at izuku's feeling rather accomplished. after all, finals were a big thing and everyone was a little stressed.
(at something perfectly normal to be stressed about - ida is tempted to thank the gods he doesnt believe in for small mercies.)
and as class rep he had to set a good example for the others!
"you're always working so hard, ida-kun!" izuku had told him one morning in the common rooms. he had come back from his morning jog, sweaty and breathing heavy.
"of course!" his arm chops with his words, "i have to lead by example! being the class representative is important!"
izuku simply giggled (and ida could see why bakugo loved him so much) and left him to his own devices.
ida continues to make his way down the hall. he's almost to the elevator when a sudden thought hits him and he stops - quite literally mid step.
itsuki had denied shoto's earlier invitation to the study session, saying that he was tired with a dull look in his eyes and a soft, apologetic smile.
the way the boy had held himself throughout the day suddenly flashes through ida's mind so quickly he can almost see it. the past week itsuki had walked around wearing only hoodies, back hunched and constantly tugging the front of it away from him as if it was too stuffy.
perhaps some bad dysphoria?
ida had taken it upon himself to look into all things transgender after itsuki had come out to the class in his introduction. the blue haired teen thought it was very brave and a good example of an up and coming hero! so of course, the least he could do to support his classmate (and now friend) was to make sure that he was comfortable at all times.
and while ida didn't completely understand dysphoria, as he had never experienced it, it seemed like a very rough thing to go through. if there was any way he could make the burden a little easier for itsuki then he was going to.
with that thought in mind, instead if going to the fourth floor where his dorm was, he instead heads to the first to grab some water and a healthy snack.
the lights are either dimmed or off, most of his classmates having headed to their respective rooms already. that makes it easy for ida to slide into the kitchen, grab what he needed, and slide back out before heading back to the elevator and pressing the button for the second floor where he was just at.
ida keeps a steady pace as he makes his way down the hall, snack and water bottle in hand. when he makes it to itsuki's door he shuffles the items into the crook of his elbow before giving two sharp knocks.
no response.
ida's mouth twists into a slight frown and he checks his watch. 8:30 pm . he knew very well that itsuki didn't sleep until at least 10pm.
giving the teen the benefit of a doubt, ida gives another two sharp knocks.
to his suprise, the door creaks and opens just slightly. red flags spring up in ida's mind, his eyebrows drawing together.
ida does what is undoubtedly an invasion of privacy - (but he's worried - he'll forgive himself this once) he steps further into the teen's room, using his free hand to grab the now open door and peek around it. with no immediate threat in sight, he makes a hesitant call of his friend's name.
"itsuki-kun?"
...
just then, ida catches a glimpse of a light in his peripherals and his eyes zero in on it immediately. the bathroom light is on.
the teen thinks of simply leaving the snack and drink and heading back to his dorm, but he pauses.
"...itsuki-kun?"
...
...no answer.
alarms begin to go off alongside those red flags. with a deep breath, ida steps further into the boy's dorm, leaving the door ajar and sets his small gifts on itsuki's desk before he approaches the door to the bathroom.
again, two sharp knocks.
and again, no response.
by now, ida is a whirlwind of emotions. anxiety churns in his gut. (itsuki could be hurt.)
but how? the alarm didn't go off.
(what if he fell and hurt himself? what if he's incapacitated?)
the worried thoughts eventually win over his questionable morals and ida wraps his hand around the cold doorknob.
for a moment, the world is entirely silent, and entirely still.
and ida opens the door.
the sight that greets him is one he never wants to see again.
itsuki rests in a full tub of blood-red water, his head tilted backwards and resting against the wall. his arms have floated to the surface and the cuts that ida sees (so, so many cuts) are deep enough that ida's arms twinge in sympathy pain.
and immediately, panic sets in.
ida rushes to the side of the tub, his hands reaching out on instinct (and isn't that just sad ) to check for a pulse. for a moment ida fears that he won't feel one, and then there's a flutter of movement against his fingertips.
he lets out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. with one hand, he fumbles for his phone in his pocket - his hands shake so bad that for a moment he's worried he'll drop it into the water.
(the red water. the water filled with his friend's blood.)
with the other he reaches beneath itsuki's head and grasps the boy underneath his arms, water sloshing as he moves and itsuki's horn scraping against the wall. breathing fast and heart pounding in his ears he scrolls through his contacts and stops as he finds aizawa-sensei's. he puts the phone on speaker and sets it to the side, using both of his hands to pull his friend's limp corpse body from the tub.
the ringing is the only sound for a moment as ida's eyes scan his friend's body. he feels them widen in horror, his hands are shaking, his legs are shaking, and distantly he knows he's going into shock.
aizawa picks up just as ida manages to wrap the towel hanging nearby around itsuki's worst cuts, applying pressure as best he can.
"hello?"
"aizawa-sensei, it's ida tenya. im in itsuki-kun's room and i need help, p-please." he stumbles over his words.
all he can see is the blood.
(blood on itsuki's arms, splattered across the boy's face, in the water, on the tiles, on his hands .)
( his hands are red. )
"ida?" there's an urgency in aizawa-sensei's voice and a rustling noise. "ida, what's wrong?"
"it's itsuki, h-he's." ida's voice shakes and he feels tears spring to his eyes. "he's unconscious, i-i found him in his bathtub and there's cu-cuts all over his arms."
aizawa curses into the phone. "horizontal or vertical?"
"w-what?"
"horizontal or vertical, ida."
"b-both."
" shit. "
ida can agree with the sentiment.
"ida, i need you to listen to me. im going to hang up and call an ambulance, i'm on the way there right now. i need you to apply pressure to the cuts, okay?"
"o-okay, sensei."
"hang on, im almost there." and the line goes dead.
ida is shaking, and there's tears spilling down his cheeks and onto his glasses -
(that will be so annoying to clean.)
and he notices that itsuki is still in his binder -
(so unsafe.)
and that his friend looks so tired in this fluorescent light. with a hazy mind, ida fumbles with the doors to the cabinets under the sink and manages to fish out a couple more towels. he wraps them firmly, with gentle hands, around itsuki's arms and his left bicep. the blood speckles through the fabric but all ida can see itsuki - his friend - lying in the tub.
and the blood in the water, and the blood on his hands, and the blood on the tiles, and the blood on itsuki's everything .
it's red, everything is red.
and all ida can do is cradle his friend closer and sob into his wild, grey hair and pray to those gods that he's never believed in.
the last thing aizawa expected to do tonight was escort a group of medics upstairs to his son's (his son ) dorm room.
he knew he was going to be tired today, yes. grading essays for hours, yes. run a little on empty, yes, but no where in his mind did "rush to save my son's life" pop up.
and yet here he was, pacing back in forth in class 1A's common room while he waited for his partner to show up.
the ambulance had taken itsuki on the stretcher and left, leaving behind a blue haired student who was in absolute shambles and sobbing his heart out into aizawa's chest.
ida wasn't a physical person, it was common knowledge. so when he wrapped his arms around aizawa's middle and sobbed into the man's hero costume, what was there for aizawa to do then hug him back?
now, he was cuddled up in his boyfriend's side with silent tears running down his cheeks on the common room couch, his glasses having been taking off in the middle of all the chaos.
and the other students...
werent faring well.
there was enough emotions in this room for aizawa to get his fix for the rest of his life.
(but he couldn't blame them.)
(he could never blame them.)
most concerning of all was itsuki's closest friends - the three people he had grew up with .
(that aizawa had watched him grow up with)
they sat together on the end of the couch. hitoshi was hugging a sobbing izuku to their chest, their own tears dripping down their nose and into forest green curls. katsuki was sitting beside them, staring at nothing with his hand clenched in a vice grip in his boyfriend's own.
aizawa continued pacing.
(he couldn't let himself think, because if he let himself think he would begin to process, and if he let himself process then he would be in ruins .)
(and he couldn't do that yet . not with the kids here.)
and finally, finally , there was the squeal of tires and the sound of yamada's voice and aizawa had never felt so relieved.
immediately, he bolted out the front door.
three sets of footsteps followed him.
(he knew who's they were - of course he knew.)
yamada's panicked face was all aizawa could see as he sprinted towards the front of the car and slid overtop the hood.
(dramatic, yes? was his son in the hospital because of a suicide attempt and dying? yes.)
by the time he had clambered into the front seat, izuku, katsuki, and hitoshi had shoved their way into the back.
"let's go."
yamada had never driven so fast in his life .
he had also never felt such a strong flurry of emotions (except for maybe when shota had proposed to him - but this was different .) they churned in his gut and made him nearly nauseous, adrenaline pumping so fast that he couldn't remember a single second of driving to the hospital.
he finds a parking place right up front (thank gods -) and slams the car into park, aizawa climbing out of the front seat before they had even stopped moving.
hands shaking, yamada shot up out of his seat and sprinted after his husband, the footsteps of the other kids he also considered his own children following close behind.
yamada was sweaty and panting by the time the four if them caught up to aizawa, but the disheveled man was too worried to notice.
(and really, weren't they all?)
katsuki hated waiting.
he was never a patient person, and especially now with his friend's (practically his brother ) life on the line, he couldn't stand waiting.
couldn't stand not knowing.
(couldn't stand letting himself think.)
and so when the receptionist tells them they aren't allowed to see itsuki yet (for reasons she won't disclose) he is very thankful for izuku's hand in his own.
the couple leans against one another, hitoshi taken up in yamada's arms as the purple haired teen sobs their heart out.
nobody told them to be quiet, and yamada's simply rubbed his hands up and down hitoshi's back.
after all, their boyfriend was in the hospital. who were they to try and quiet them down?
by the time a nurse comes out to call for their ragtag group to see itsuki color is bleeding into the sky.
it is a morning in october. it is cool and breezy and the forecast for the day suggest a perfect day for picnic.
it is a morning in october, and the only things hitoshi knows is that their boyfriend is breathing.
itsuki looks worse for wear - arms wrapped in bandages that span from his wrist to his upper bicep on his left arm, deep shadows beneath his close eyes and hooked up to so many cables it makes hitoshi's head spin.
but he is alive . and that's what matters.