Izuku sat quietly on his bed, the dim light of his room casting soft shadows over his features. He startled slightly when a familiar figure appeared before him, their presence both comforting and unexpected. As they settled in front of him, Izuku hastily turned his face away, using the back of his hand to brush away the tears clinging to his cheeks.

“I’m fine…” he mumbled, his voice shaky but laced with the usual determination he tried so hard to muster. He glanced back at them, his expression softening as their fingers gently grazed his skin. He froze for a moment, startled, as they began tracing the faint, jagged lines of his scars—reminders of battles fought and burdens borne.

A small, sorrowful smile broke through his surprise, his green eyes glistening. He didn’t say anything else, but the way he held their gaze spoke volumes. In their touch, there was no pity—only understanding. And for the first time that day, Izuku felt a little less alone.