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It's 6 am when Izuku's alarm goes off. The green haired boy wakes up without much fuss, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and stretching his arms to get the stiffness out of them.
He stays on his bed staring at the empty chair behind his desk.
He smiles.
"Happy birthday Izuku," he says to himself, softly, sadly, "You're 15 now. Congratulations."
He sighs a little and bends down to drag out a dusty box from under his bed. It's old and barely staying together but it has been with Izuku forever.
He opens it and his gaze immediately falls on an small photo frame.
It's him. With his mother and father. He ignores the pang in his chest that longs for his father's affectionate pats and supportive gaze, instead giving all his attention to the bar of chocolate, now expired and melted and wholly inedible.
He picks it up gingerly, reveling in the little weight of the wrapped delicacy.
It had been a gift, one he never got around to eating and enjoying.
His friend, former friend, had given it to him on his 4th birthday. He remembers the small party he'd had, the loud laughter echoing throughout his home as Kacchan had gruffly handed him that chocolate and wished him a happy birthday.
Izuku had beamed at him and went in for hug only to be pushed aside by Kacchan with a "Don't touch me, nerd."
Nevertheless, Izuku had decided to treasure that present and eat it just a month before the expiry date.
But before that could happen, his quirk diagnosis came along.
Quirkless.
He is quirkless.
The word haunts him, taunts him, rips him apart.
Izuku places the bar of chocolate back into the box and picks up a rubber keychain next.
That was from his father.
"It's an infinity sign Izu!" His father had said, patting him tenderly in his shoulder, "It represents my infinite love for you!"
Izuku hadn't understood entirely what his father had meant then.
But now he does and he can't help but think what a big liar his father had been.
If his love was as infinite as he said it was, he would be with Izuku right now. He would return home.
Izuku clutches the keychain hard and wills himself to not tear up.
These were good memories. Good gifts. And he always opened this box on his birthday because.... because revisiting old gifts was better than accepting the fact that he didn't get any new ones anymore.
It's not like Izuku is a materialistic or greedy or that he needs people to give him gifts to show their love for him.
It's just that those gifts represent the care of those he called friends and family. The intent with which they're given, all to make him happy.
So, he uses these items as a support now, because he's sure no one actually loves him anymore.
Because if they did, someone would wish him, remember his birthday, maybe his mom would kiss his forehead or Kacchan would not bully him for a day. Maybe his dad would send him a text message or his classmates would smile at him.
But that never happens.
He puts the key chain back in the box and closes it. Sliding it under his bed again, he goes to the bathroom.
Maybe to freshen up.
Maybe to wipe the tears off of his splotchy face.
He looks himself in the eye, his reflection looks tired and hurt. So so hurt.
He gulps and he forgets. Forgets it's his birthday just like everyone else. Forgets he's human and deserves to be loved because that's how cruelly he's treated.
Forgets his own needs and desires and wishes because the others always come first.
His wobbly smile remains stuck to his face as he makes breakfast for himself.
Toast with some butter.
He eats it, savouring the plain taste of the food. A bird sits on the windowsill eyeing him warily and he looks at it and grins softly.
The bird gives out a chirp before flying away, giving him a complete view of its beautiful wings and Izuku thinks that maybe, just maybe today won't go as bad as he expects it to.
.
.
Today goes even worse instead.
.
.
Izuku reaches his school almost an hour early, like usual, and enters his classroom. This was another habit he'd acquired after he'd realised that walking in compounds and corridors full of students looking for a chance to put him down wasn't the best for his health.
This way, they don't have to see him before they come to class and then too, it's only his classmates. That's all the damage control Izuku can do.
He sits on the last desk and pulls out his analysis notebook. Muttering under his breath, he recalls a hero fight he'd witnessed last weekend and jots down points from the action and breaks down the villain's quirk.
He gets immersed in the world of punches and kicks that soon evolves to quirk activation through quantum mechanics but he carries on, unaware of his surroundings and detached from anything that isn't the information in his notebook.
And that's why he flinches hard when someone kicks his desk while walking to the end of the room where the hooks lie to hang their lunches.
He quickly shoves the notebook in his backpack, not trying his luck with it when he knows someone can easily take it away from him.
He sits with tense shoulders and stiff legs throughout all the lectures, ready to bolt if someone approaches him.
It's instinct now.
To run away.
Beaten into him after the innumerable times he'd tried to fight back.
He knows that he doesn't actually have a reason to be so on guard right now. No one really does anything if he keeps his head down and doesn't give them a reason to release their frustrations on him.
No, during lectures, his classmates are behaved and subdued somewhat.
But he's too paranoid to force himself to relax.
And it's for the better anyway because during his second to last lecture, his teacher, the one who actually hates Izuku and isn't shy to show it, decides that they should discuss careers.
Naturally, everyone in class wants to go down the path of heroism.
It's stupid, Izuku thinks, they don't know the risks involved, they don't know that behind confident smiles and powerful fights lie years of tears, sweat, blood and hard work.
They see the glorious life of a hero and forget that they have to go through a mountain of hardships before they get where they are.
Izuku raises his hand too, it's a pitiful action, his arm only half-up as if he's uncertain and confused about what he's doing.
But, Izuku is not uncertain or confused.
Infact, this is the only thing he's compeletely sure of.
He wants to be a hero.
No matter what.
So his meek gesture is only because of fear.
He's scared.
Of his classmates' judgements.
Of their mockery of him.
Of their cruel words.
Of them.
So it's good that no one notices him in the chaos that erupts when everyone- except Izuku- activate their quirks. Showing off their quirks. Something Izuku lacks so bad that it pains him everyday.
Kacchan looks annoyed by all the commotion and bangs his desk as he slumps forwards, one upturned palm showcasing small fireworks as he speaks,
"Yo teach! Don't you dare drag me in with these losers. They'll all be stuck in some back alley agency while I go to the top and become the number one hero. You got that?"
Izuku smiles, despite himself.
Some things never change.
The teacher nods his head even as the others start voicing a protest against Katsuki.
"That's right Bakugou, with grades like yours and such an excellent quirk, you'll definitely get into U.A, I'm sure."
Katsuki smirks, satisfied to have risen above the shitty extras and let's himself relax and lay back.
But his teacher is not done yet. He turns towards Izuku and Izuku clutches the sides of his desk harder.
"Ah Midoriya," he considers something, "Aren't you applying for U.A too?"
At this, a fit of laughter breaks in the class, one full of disbelief because how can a quirkless weakling like deku ever hope to get into such a prestigious institution?
When the laughter dies down, it's immediately replaced by the bang of Katsuki firing off an explosion on Izuku's desk.
Startled, Izuku falls onto the ground, wincing at the impact.
Kacchan hisses angrily, "What do you think you're doing deku? You see yourself as above me huh? You think you can actually fuckin' get into U.A?"
Izuku trembles under the intense stare of Katsuki and his intimidating presence and tries to keep his breaths steady.
"Maybe- I can try but-" Izuku attempts to say but Katsuki explodes another layer of sweat and pushes Izuku to the very edge of the classroom,
"So you're trying to go against me huh you fucking deku?"
Izuku tries to gain back some semblance of dignity and forces his eyes to make contact with Kacchan's,
"No, it's not that way. I just- I just want to be a hero and-" he says, stammering a bit.
Katsuki cuts him off before he can say anything and grips his collar, lifting him a little above ground,
"Don't get in my way deku-" he warns through gritted teeth, "don't you fuckin' look down on me. It'll be good for you to remember that."
Katsuki shoves Izuku roughly to the ground and walks back to his seat. Izuku gulps heavily and stands up.
No one bats an eye while this happens, no one speaks up, no one sees anything wrong with such blatant bullying.
Because they all do the same.
So class carries on and Izuku sits on his desk again, ignoring the slight headache he has and drowning under the white noise of his class' chatter.
School comes to an end and Izuku heaves a sigh of relief.
But it's a little too soon seeing as Katsuki isn't done with him yet.
A hand pulls away his analysis notebook that he'd just briefly removed to read the morning's notes. He immediately knows it's Kacchan.
Looking into annoyed red eyes, Izuku braces himself for any harsh words that would inevitably come out of the blond's mouth.
"Hmm, hero analysis notebook," Kacchan snorts, "Such a damn nerd, as always deku."
The two standing beside Kacchan take turns throwing a jab at the greenhead and Izuku finally protests,
"Hey, um, very funny and all but please give it back now alright? Its mine."
Katsuki makes a show of considering this before grinning and setting his notebook on fire.
"Well, oops. My quirk is a bit volatile you see." Kacchan says, a cruel smirk dancing on his lips. He walks idly towards the window and slowly drops the book outside.
Izuku bites back his angry yell, his urge to call Katsuki out on his inconsiderate actions. He knows no good will come from it. Avoiding injuries is his priority, because if he doesn't then the black and blue of his face will make his mother frown with worry. He hates it when that happens. Inconveniencing anyone doesn't sit well with Izuku and always drowns him in guilt.
Izuku goes still and rigid when Kacchan's palm lands on his shoulder, the heat causing his uniform to burn and smoke to fly out from the contact.
"I hope this is lesson enough for you dumbfuck" Kacchan says, undeniably condescending, "Don't fuckin' apply to U.A."
With that, Kacchan turns around and exits the classroom with his two lackeys following behind him.
Izuku shuts his eyes, squeezing them hard so no tears can leak out and lets his hand linger over the scorched fabric atop his shoulder.
He waits for another minute before calming himself and slumps his posture, finally releasing all the stored up tension.
When he does leave his classroom and stands near the koi pond, he smiles.
It's sorrowful.
It's accepting.
It's so many more emotions that mere words aren't strong enough to hold their meaning.
He shakes the damaged book, hoping to salvage some of the unharmed pages.
He walks home, taking a slight detour to go the central store. Once he's bought the item he needs, he reaches his house, exhausted and utterly spent for the day.
He doesn't sleep though, he has work to do.
So he spends the remaining of the day cooking dinner, cleaning up the living room, completing his assignments and homework.
He stays up late, glueing together the torn pages of his analysis book, and rewriting what he remembers on top of the charred pages with blurred words.
When he goes to bed, he thinks whether he'll ever get to have a birthday like the ones his peers have.
One filled with smiles and cheer and friends and family.
He sleeps. Lonely and forgotten.
He sleeps. Wishing himself a happy birthday once again.
He sleeps. Hoping to get a break from his ever-constant nightmares.
He sleeps.
And wishes to never experience another birthday ever again.