Airwaves Unscripted (PapaMic)

The infirmary is quiet. Peaceful. It's the first time all day that I don't feel like I'm standing on a shaking bridge over a canyon.

Recovery Girl sits beside me, her warm presence grounding me.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asks softly.

I blink at the ceiling, still wrapped up in the blanket she gave me. "Like I just got hit by a train."

"Hmm." She hums knowingly. "Emotional or physical train?"

"Both."

She chuckles. "Not surprising. You've had a long day."

Yeah. That's one way to put it.

I turn my head toward her. "Thanks, by the way. For letting me rest here. For, y'know... not making me deal with the world right now.*"

"Oh, please." She waves a hand dismissively, but there's a soft smile on her face. "You're always so busy taking care of everyone else, Midoriya. It's about time someone reminded you to take care of yourself."

I scoff, rubbing a hand over my face. "That obvious, huh?"

"*Painfully.**"

I huff out a quiet laugh. "Guess I need to work on that."

"No, dear." She pats my arm gently. "You need to let others carry the weight sometimes."

I don't respond right away. Because what am I supposed to say to that? I don't know how to let people do that. I've spent my entire life handling things alone—fixing problems, cleaning up messes, making sure other people don't have to deal with the fallout.

Because if I don't do it, who will?

"Midoriya."

I glance at her.

"You are excused for the day." She gives me a knowing look, like she can see the protests forming in my head. "You are not to go back to class. You are not to overthink. You are to rest."

I blink. "But—"

"No buts."

"But I—"

"No."

I stare at her. She stares back.

I sigh. "Fine."

She nods, satisfied. "Good boy."

I snort. "That sounded weird."

"Well, I am old enough to be your grandmother," she muses. "Take it as a compliment."

I shake my head, shifting a little under the blanket. The exhaustion is starting to hit me again. The warmth, the quiet, the fact that—for once—I don't have to pretend I'm okay...

It's making my body shut down.

"Just rest, dear," Recovery Girl murmurs. "I'll be here if you need anything."

I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. "Thanks, Doc."

She pats my arm one last time before letting me be.

Resting is nice in theory. In practice, it's absolute torture.

I can't just sit here. My mind won't shut up. Every time I try to relax, a new what if claws its way to the surface.

What if Mom's not home tonight? What if Hisashi presses charges? What if things get worse? What if—

I groan and shove the blanket off. "Doc, I gotta do something."

Recovery Girl barely glances up from her clipboard. "No, you don't."

"I do, though." I sit up, rubbing my hands together. "I can't just— do nothing. That's not a thing I do.*"

"I am well aware," she sighs. "You also have a habit of overexerting yourself, which is exactly why I told you to rest."

"But I—" I hesitate, running a hand through my hair. "I just... need to do something."

Her expression softens a little. "What did you have in mind?"

I perk up slightly. "Can I help you out? Organize supplies? Restock the cabinets? Carry medical files? Anything?"

She actually laughs at that. "You want to do chores?"

"Yes!" I gesture around. "You're always busy, right? So if I can take a little off your plate, I can be useful, and I won't just be sitting here spiraling into existential dread."

She hums, tapping her chin. "Hmm. Well, when you put it that way..."

I nod eagerly. "So—"

"No."

I deflate instantly. "Doc!"

"Izuku, you are excused for the day," she says firmly, pointing at the bed. "You need rest. That's non-negotiable."

"But—"

"No buts."

"But—"

"I have a cane, young man, and I will use it."

I stare at her. She stares back.

I sigh, dropping my shoulders. "Fine."

"Good boy."

"Still weird when you say that."

"Get over it." She pats my head like I'm five, then gestures back to the bed. "Now, either lie down or sit quietly. But no working. That's an order."

I huff, but I obey, flopping back onto the mattress.

She nods approvingly before going back to her paperwork.

I cross my arms behind my head and stare at the ceiling.

Doing nothing sucks.