Izuku Midoriya sat alone in the dorm room, curled up on his bed with his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. His breaths were shallow, his eyes stinging from the tears that threatened to spill over. He hated these days. The ones where no amount of logic, no amount of self-assurance, could quiet the voice in his head telling him he wasn’t enough.

His uniform felt suffocating. His binder, usually a source of relief, now felt more like a cage. He wanted to scream, to claw at his skin until he didn’t feel like this anymore. But all he could do was sit there, fists clenched in his lap, trying desperately to drown out the thoughts.

You don’t look like a real guy today.
Your voice is too high.
They can all tell.

He bit his lip, shaking his head as if that could physically rid him of the negativity. But it clung to him like a second skin, heavier than any villain attack he’d ever faced.

A soft knock at the door barely registered in his mind. He didn’t move. Whoever it was would go away eventually. But the door creaked open, and a familiar voice filled the space.

“Izu?”

His chest tightened, but this time it wasn’t from anxiety. It was relief.

His boyfriend stepped in, concern etched in every line of his face. He didn’t bombard Izuku with questions or force a conversation. He just shut the door behind him, came over, and knelt beside the bed, watching him with gentle eyes.

Izuku felt his breath hitch. He didn’t want to talk, but at the same time, he did. He wanted to spill every awful thought, every insecurity, every frustration. But when he finally spoke, all that came out was a weak, “I feel disgusting.”