Work Text:
Shut up! Shut up!
Please..
Just shut up...
The scent of iron still lingering in the room as he was stirred up from his frail position on the tiled floor, it was wet, cold, blood slowly seeping through his clothes. Izuku quietly stood up, his knees screaming at him as he did so. His arms shake as he takes his bag, discarded and trashed, he doesn't know what to do anymore.
It's been like this for years ever since he can remember, always aching, trembling as his body suffers from the dull pain that never leaves him. He feels nothing, worthless. Hollowed by years of torment and isolation.
He is sixteen now, old but never wiser. Kaachan left to go to U.A while he... Himself stayed in the unruly hell he called school. Never treated the same, never even acknowledged, seen with twisted fascination that he can't digest.
Alien..
Inhuman..
It's sickening.
The teen gathers his stuff, looking up as he finally finishes packing.
It was almost sundown, he needs to go home, fast. Unless he wants to worry his mom more that she already does. So, he sprints, ignoring the stinging pain on his mouth, and the screeching agony of his lungs.
He runs and runs, passing by buildings and stores, his feet thumping against pavement in a steady beat. Wind rushing through his hair and skin, tears flowing from the pain he endures from his ribs.
After what felt like hours of twist and turns, he finally reached and arrived at the porch of his apartment. Heaving breath after breath from his run. Izuku quietly digs through his bag, grabbing a handkerchief, the darkest he has and he proceeds to wipe himself off of blood, sweat and tears that was clearly evident in his face, he tidies his clothes as much as he can, and tries to fix his hair so it doesn't look as much as ragged as it used to. He takes a while to put on his smile and make it as sturdy and convincing as possible, he fixes the wobble of the edges of his lips, lifting it up no matter how heavy it is. And when he feels that he has done enough, he knocks.
"Izuku, where have you been?! The sun is almost down!" Inko, his ever sweet mother bursts open the door and brings her arms around him. She didn't notice his son flinched ever so slightly.
"H-Hi mom, uhh could you let me in, please?" His mouth stutters a bit, from either pain or the fear of her ever finding out his bruises. "Of course, is there something wrong dear?" She lets go of him, hands picking on her fingers.
"It's nothing really! J-just hungry.." he trails off, eyes cast aside, not looking at her. "Oh, I better go prepare dinner then, go to your room and put your uniform in the laundry bin, I'll wash it later"
"No!" Izuku shouts out of nowhere, panic clear in his eyes, his mom worriedly stares at him. "I-I mean you don't have to tire yourself, I'll do it" he hurriedly stampers, goes to his room in haste, leaving his mom confused.
He locks his door and takes off his clothes, revealing a canvas of purple and blue littering his body. He winces and digs under his bed, pulling out a roll of bandages he bought a few weeks ago. Izuku dressed his torso with it, hands expertly weaving to cover his bruises. He hisses when he cuts it off the rest and tugs the bandage within itself.
He huffs out as he rummaged through his closet for something baggy to wear. Something that doesn't touch his injuries.
"Dinners ready!"
Izuku nods to himself as he gathers his clothes and puts it in the laundry. "I'm coming!" He heads to the dining table, there he sees his mom smiling ever so gently, patiently waiting for him. "Since you look so down today, I thought it would be nice to cook your favorite meal!"
Izuku smiles, he's thankful to have a mother like her.
"Izuku, is there something that's been bothering you lately? I can't help but notice that you've been in your room longer these days" it was true, he never goes out to look for a hero fight, never brings his notebook with him anymore, never mumbling when his mind drifts somewhere else. He has been quiet, blank. Unmoving in his bed when he can. He does nothing more than to stare at his ceiling for hours and hours. Letting his mind wonder somewhere else. Somewhere he shouldn't be considering.
And sometimes he finds it appealing.
"Izuku?" His mother calls, snapping him back to reality, "it's nothing mom, I just have a change of heart" if Inko ever saw his room, she would only find barren walls. Posters taken down and folded away in the bottom of his closet.
Not like she would ever see it.
Everything passed that went into a blur, mashing up all together into one indistinguishable mess. The next thing he noticed was the smell of iron filling up the room, white tiles covered the blank walls as he sank into a tub. He is in the bathroom. His wrists stings more and more until he lifts them up above the crimson water that filled the bathtub. Slashes were written on his wrists, the cuts still bleeding scarlet red. It hurts but he can't help but feel at ease.
No.
He shakes his head, dizzy and lightheaded, he stands up hands held close to his chest, preventing more pain to come. He needs to stop this, it isn't healthy. He lets water wash out his cuts, until the blood gushing out was lessened to a drip. He doesn't have anything to cover up the wounds, he left it in his bedroom. So in wobbling feet he opens his door as he did so his toes hit something, something sharp.
His eyes wander below, there he sees the razor knife laying innocently on the floor, blood dripping from it's tips. He screws his eyes shut, pushing down the urge rising up his body. He doesn't need to worry his mom even more than she already does. He pockets it and hides it under his bed, as he wraps more bandages on his wrists.
That night he slept in a dreamless bliss.
Morning came and his body aches all over
His eyes struggle to open, battling the exhaustion weighing down on him in tons. "Izuku, wake up sweetie! Breakfast is ready" his mom called, forcing him out of his blankets. He swears in hushed words as his sides sting with covered bruises, he gulps as he begins to start the day again.
"Coming mom!"
He coughs blood as another fist collides with his face, pain exploding in every inch of his being. With a shove he tumbles down and curls up in a fetal position.
"You think you deserve to live?! You aren't worth anything! You useless, quirkless freak!"
A kick hits his ribs stealing a breath, he hates this, he doesn't want this. He didn't do anything, why are they doing this?! Crimson spews out of his lips, his throat full of iron.
"Why can't you just die already?! You're such a nuisance to the whole society, what can you even do? Get your fanatic ass into a villain fight and make everyone's job harder?! Like what you did during the sludge villain?! You're lucky that Bakugou didn't die because of your sorry ass!"
More of them came, unrelenting, ever present, loud and defining. More and more bruises bloom on his skin, his lungs giving out. It doesn't stop.
Shut up! Shut up!
Please..
Just shut up...
He opens his eyes, wind blowing through his face, caressing his hair even so gently. The sky painted in orange as the sun sets over the horizon. It's quiet, lonely, invigorating, when did he get here? How?
Where is everyone?
A cold chill creeps down his feet as he feels gravel crumbling down beneath. He looked to the side, there sat his old worn down shoes, a piece of paper tucked under it crumpling occasionally by the wind. His bag was leaning beside it.
His hands settle on the cold metallic railing, looking down. He was high above a silent road, on top of a building tall enough to kill him. He breathes out for the last time, his grip tighten as he hauled himself to the other side of the railing, feet never been closer to the edge. He already misses his mom, her smile, her laugh, her katsudon.
He looks up and smiles up to the sky, resigned and tired. His mind blanks as he lets go, his body slowly leans down. Air rushing through his whole being.
Izuku closes his eyes, tears flowing out. He has never felt so peaceful.
Splat
He never heard the screams of horror as life slowly drains from his eyes.