Halfway to the Moon

Wishes to Shooting Stars

The sound of the TV echoed from the living room, muffled by the walls of the kitchen. He could hear his mother moving around in there, frantically searching for her purse while tying her hair up because she'd woken up late again. It was like this almost every day, and it was heartbreaking to watch. She worked herself so hard.

Ignoring the fresh wave of guilt the thought brought in, Izuku finished tying up the lunch he'd just made and rushed it out to his mother just as she was heading out the door.

"A-ah, Mom, wait!"

At the sound of her son's voice, Inko turned, hand paused on the doorknob. Her hair was messy and the skin under her eyes was growing increasingly dark with lack of sleep, but at the sight of her son with a bento box in his hands meant for her, she smiled. It was a small smile, but it was genuine and true.

Izuku smiled back at her and handed her the box, the cloth slipping from his fingers to hers.

"Thank you, Izu. Be safe at school, okay?" She said, all soft and encouraging.

Izuku nodded, "I'll try." And he was telling the truth. He always tried to avoid trouble; it wasn't his fault it always came looking for him.

Unaware and satisfied with his answer, however, Inko simply ruffled his hair, turned around, and let the door shut softly behind her.

At the sound of her footsteps receding down the hallway, Izuku let his shoulders slump.

"Uuugh..." he groaned into the emptiness of his living room. He took a moment to let himself relax for once- let himself feel the ache in his muscles from overworking himself, the throbbing in his temple from too many hours staring at textbooks, the heaviness pulling at his eyelids from inadequate sleep- to just let everything sink in for a moment.

He stayed there for a long minute, pulling air into his lungs and filtering it out in a steady rhythm. Finally, though, he was forced to pull himself to his feet and get started on his morning routine, lest he fall too deeply into some spiral of thought that he couldn't pull himself out from.

○•

 The words on Izuku's school notebook were starting to blur. Letters and symbols formed from black ink were beginning to resemble black smudges on the white paper, becoming incoherent and making it frustrating to look at. Izuku threaded thin fingers through messy curls, gripping and tugging in an attempt to gain some focus back.

 It worked, but only temporarily. He tuned back in to what his teacher was saying and transcribed it into his notes dutifully, but it wasn't ten minutes before his brain seemed to switch off once again and his vision grew fuzzy. He sighed in frustration and dropped his pen so he could grasp at green strands yet another time.

 Why was this happening? He wasn't sick, he'd had a decent night's rest, he'd eaten a good breakfast, everything was normal- so why? Why was it that everytime he tried to focus on the sounds flitting around him and the characters on the chalkboard his concentration began fizzling out? Why was paying attention causing him to feel so fatigued?