Chapter Text
It's late and cold. Logically, Midoriya Izuku knows he should be at home getting ready for bed, but he's not. His phone is on mute, but he already knows he doesn't have any notifications. No missed calls, no unanswered texts. Nobody will ever notice that he's missing. Stupid, Quirkless Deku isn't someone worth worrying about. Take a swan dive off the roof and hope you have a Quirk in your next life. Bakugo's words repeat over and over in his mind. Part of him wants to think that Bakugo didn't mean what he said, that the (literally) explosive boy was having a bad day, and he'll get an apology tomorrow. He imagines getting a pat on the shoulder (without a burst of pain and a new scar), and sitting next to Bakugo at lunch, talking about how their mothers are doing. He imagines talking about how they're both going to work together to get into UA and become heroes.
He knows that's not how it's going to go, though. Ever since he got diagnosed as Quirkless, the word is bitter on his lips and tongue as he forms it silently, Bakugo hasn't had an ounce of respect for him. A friendly rivalry has turned into an outright hatred of anything related to Quirkless, worthless, pathetic Deku. You'll never be a hero a sharp voice hisses in the back of his mind, not without a Quirk. Midoriya's lips curl into a dull smile. He's dreamed about being a hero like All Might his entire life, smiling in the face of danger and helping people with ease. His shoulders slump as he realizes the people he dreams about saving would never give him more than a disgusted glance, all because of the extra joint in his toe. The extra joint that makes it impossible for him to have a cool, flashy superpower.
He takes one last glance at his phone, hoping for one notification, it doesn't matter what kind. There's nothing. His last text is from his mother, the date is from early last week. He looks at the time and dully notes that he's missed dinner. It's not like he has anything waiting for him anyways, his mother stopped cooking a long time ago. He relies on money he either finds or steals from her drawers to order takeout or buy ingredients for simple meals. He wonders if she'll even eat once he's gone. On one hand, he's glad he has the skills, since cooking is a good thing to know. On the other, he hates the fact that he's been forced to fend for himself. He's struggled through weeks without any money, meals reduced to one or two every few days. Living with his mother is like living by himself, only there's a person who sometimes stumbles out of the bedroom down the hall and wails about his father, or tells him that he needs to be more like Katsuki. Stop getting into fights, stop getting in trouble, work harder in school.
(He's trying his hardest, his teachers refuse to believe someone Quirkless can be smart. The fights are caused when enhanced fists collide with his nose and he lashes out in panic, desperate to escape. Katsuki is the reason he's staring down at the unforgiving concrete sidewalk from the school roof.)
He's done some minor calculations. The roof isn't high enough to kill him unless he falls at the perfect angle, snapping his neck on impact. That won't happen unless he's really unlucky. He's probably going to break a few bones, and maybe get a concussion if he hits his head hard enough, but other than that he'll be okay. He wants to know what it feels like first. If he likes it, he's going to find a taller building. He's going to climb so high up nobody will be able to save him, and then he'll fall. He's going to stay out here all night if he needs to. He hasn't figured out how he's going to manage to walk away, but that's a problem for 5-minutes-from-now Midoriya.
He slips off his shoes, bright red and worn down. They're the only Quirkless shoes he can afford to buy, the materials are cheap but they're okay otherwise. He unties the All Might themed jacket from around his waist and sets it on the rooftop. He doesn't want to think about the hero at the moment, but the jacket is a collectors item. He doesn't even want to think about it splattered with blood and stained with dirt, partially because he's been a fanboy for so long, and partially because it's something he can sell if he survives and things get even worse. He sets his backpack, full of Hero Analysis notebooks, on top of it. He pauses for a moment before stepping over the railing. Does he really want to do this? Isn't this just proving Bakugo right? He shakes his head, this is the only option for him. His mother is basically a walking corpse, his best friend told him to kill himself, he's covered in scars and bruises, and everything aches.
He's tired.
He doesn't let himself reconsider before his tight grip on the railing falters and he leans forwards. He plummets, wind whipping at his curly hair and his baggy clothes. The fall feels like eternity, but he knows it only takes a minute or less. There's a sickening crack as he lands on the concrete, his head bounces up once and then falls back down. His limbs make disgusting crunching noises as they make contact with the ground. He opens his eyes once again, finding his limbs contorted into unnatural positions. His legs are facing the wrong ways, and the way his left arm is twisted makes him feel slightly sick to his stomach. A few of his fingers are mangled and probably broken, a sickly purple color at the tips. There's a sharp pain at the back of his head. He reaches up with his less injured arm and feels wet, sticky blood pooling around it. Shit, I hit my head too hard, I must've miscalculated. He grimaces as he looks up at the sky, a mix of pink and orange hues, dotted with the faint beginnings of night stars.
He smiles. It's, at the very least, a pretty thing to see before he dies. Blood seeps into the fabric of his shirt, making it stick uncomfortably to the skin underneath. Dark green turns crimson as his head wound leaks blood into his hair, matting his curls together and turning them damp. His phone is probably ruined, too, either from the fall or from the blood. It's not like he needs it anymore. Tears form in the corners of his eyes and he's unable to blink them back, even subtle movements causing extreme pain. He's never going to be a real hero, everyone was right. He's just a stupid Deku. He imagines the classroom gossip, Deku couldn't handle a bit of teasing and jumped off the school roof! It took forever to clean up the blood, even his death was annoying! He laughs, watery and humorless, as he thinks about Bakugo calling him pathetic again.
He is pathetic.
His vision is starting to go blurry around the edges, blood bubbing and gushing through his teeth as his laughter dies down, staining his grin red. The metallic scent overwhelms everything else as the pool spreads, gleaming in the light of the sunset. He wonders when he'll be found, someone will either trip over his corpse, or someone coming to school will see him. He wonders if anyone will care about another Quirkless suicide, or if they'll just shrug him off and call him a waste of recourses, celebrate his death like he was a burden to the entirety of mankind. He can see the headlines now, they'll use him as a nameless statistic. Midoriya Izuku will be replaced with Quirkless Boy, he'll be thrown into a news story and used as another reason why Quirkless people are a burden, why they don't deserve healthcare, why they're pathetic, and weakminded, and inferior. He closes his eyes again, trying to stop crying. Will his classmates laugh about it? Will they feel anything except annoyance when they look at the gore outside the window? Will Bakugo be glad he's chosen to take his advice?
He feels an odd, sort of tingly feeling in his body, hears a raspy voice, and then goes limp as someone picks him up.