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Izuku is cursed.
No he isn’t. He’s not cursed, or broken, or going crazy with his mind going round and round, or was it round and round? Maybe. Or maybe it was never in a direction, but it was going somewhere. Always moving. NO. He wasn’t crazy. Not a lunatic or psychopath, and he certainly didn’t want to carve his fingernails into his skin leaving blood red moons. Maybe sometimes he itched, and sometimes he scratched. But he was still okay.
NO he wasn’t. How could he be? HOW COULD HE POSSIBLY BE OKAY?
Izuku was moving. Or, he thought he was. All of a sudden he was in the classroom. It wasn’t Kanari-Sensei’s classroom (Or was it? No, no. It couldn’t be). Kanari-Sensei’s room was freezing and threatened hell when proven to be useless. He used to be useless. That room was hell. So, so painful. Didn’t he deserve it?
Aizawa’s class was nice. Not exactly comfortable. No classroom could ever be described as ‘‘comfortable’’, but this class was soft and velvety. Not filled with splinters and sharp nails just waiting to prick themselves into his skin.
But Izuku doesn’t know. He never knows. Aizawa-Sensei could turn against him once he finds out how useless he was (is).
The day goes smoothly, maybe. Is constantly being on edge with hunched up shoulders that never truly shield him for hours on end considered a day gone by “smoothly”? Yes. It has to be, because this is what Izuku knows. He’s adapted to it, so it’s fine. Perfectly okay to be filled with adrenaline with every waking moment, waiting to rip someone’s throat out if they show intentions of the same people who haunt his dreams day and night.
Until he’s walking down the hall. With his friends ( They pity you. You really think you can have friends. What a stupid son of a bitch) . He’s laughing and smiling, but then he hears a voice. It’s not one that he’s heard before, but that has never mattered before and won’t matter now.
“I can’t believe that U.A. allows those worthless scum into their school. Quirkless should all just kill themselves already. It’s not like they amount to anything.”
He thinks of middle school, his home, the playground, Kanari-Sensei. The scars he’s collected from all of them. The days he spent on the rooftop or the bathtub or his own bed trying to suffocate himself . Izuku has never met a quirkless person besides his own flesh and blood and tears that never seem to stop (they never stop. Why can’t he stop this pain?).
Rage fills him. It’s always there just like the scars on his hips and the voices that never STOP , but it overwhelms him. So rarely does this happen- Izuku doesn’t have control of himself. He can barely see, hear, breathe, when he lunges at this student who might be the same age as him. Izuku’s friends are too slow to stop him (Please stop him. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone, but he’s being burned by his own anger. And he loves it). Izuku continues to lunge until he meets his component.
The first punch breaks this stranger’s nose. It’s satisfying. Payback for the words that were spewed out of the person’s mouth. Words that at one point of his own pathetic life, he couldn’t stop from being spat out. However, he can now.
It feels so good.
He’s hurting someone. He doesn't want this. MONSTER. Kanari-Sensei was right. You’re a monster. You LIKE hurting this stranger. Villain villain VILLAIN.
YOUDESERVETODIE
He’s stopped, and Izuku is thankful. Maybe. It’s Todoroki and Iida who have their arms around him. He still can’t see, and he’s tired. Always so, so tired. He can’t see what the person looks like. Not sure if he wants to.
Izuku has always been good at running away (no he hasn’t?? He’s always trapped. There's never a way out. Not even when he tried to... It doesn’t matter. It clearly didn’t work anyway), so his eyes close and he sleeps. Letting his friends hold him with worried yet caring hands.
He doesn’t ever want to wake up.
______
He wakes up, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Izuku knows what he did: he assaulted another student. If that doesn’t get him expelled he doesn’t know what will. Murder?
“I know you’re awake.” The voice shocks him enough that he opens his eyes to see Aizawa-Sensei before he has time to think.
Izuku can’t help but flinch. He hates being alone with a teacher. It always ends in a bad bad bad way.
HE WANTS EVERYTHING TO STOP.
Izuku imagined the hero’s expression would be angry (teacher’s are always so angry at him. Why can’t he be a normal student?), but it isn’t.
It’s disappointment.
Disappointment is worse. Whenever he sees that face, on his teachers, mother, his father , panic swells in his throat and the itch comes back at full force (wanting to scratch until he bleeds to death. Does Shigaraki feel the same way?) . He can never breathe, especially with the danger that surrounds him from a disappointed adult.
( “Go to the closet, Izuku.”, “You need to shut up. You don’t want the muzzle, do you?”, “You’re such a disappointment, Midoriya. You might as well give up.”)
That look is always followed by scars. Adding more trauma and fear into Izuku’s carved out heart. Adding more insanity (He’s sane. Promise, promise, promise) to his swallowed lungs. Extinguishing his will to keep on going he’s been fighting for far too long. He wants to SLEEP
His lungs are turning into ashy fire, and it only makes him more aware of the situation he has to endure.
“You attacked a student.” Izuku nods, and feels anguish that he doesn’t feel guilty for bashing his sacred fist into someone’s face.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me the reason?” This is the first time Izuku has made eye contact with his teacher during this conversation. Teachers have never asked for a reason. Always going straight to the end. The finish that never ended happily for Izuku.
“You are many things Problem Child, but being hostile is not one of them,” Aizawa points out.
He’s right. Izuku hates violence. Absolutely loathes it. YEARS of torture and all he wants is peace. He fears them as much as he fears himself. He can’t be THEM.
“I…” God, does Izuku hate his voice. So weak and pathetic. “The student… They said something, and I got so mad . How could someone ever say that ?” The answer was just about everyone, “I heard them, and then everything turned blurry.” Izuku doesn’t mention how satisfying it felt. And how scared he was because of that.
“What did they say?” Maybe if Izuku was fighting between dissociating and staying lucid, he would have noticed the concern in his teacher’s voice.
“They, they said that the quirkless- said it like they were a different species - should all just kill them-” He can’t finish that sentence. Afraid of the memories that will come along with those two lone words.
Aizawa understands, and his eyes darken. He’s the first teacher that has even mildly understood the being that is Izuku and how scary is that?, but understanding doesn’t fix right from wrong. “While saying that was unacceptable, and they will be talked to after this,” Izuku scoffs before he catches himself. Like hell they’ll be talking to those kids. If Izuku knew anything about the school system (Yelling, screaming in his ear for being the target. For “edging them on”. Praising those who lashed out) is that it’s never on his side. All they ever did was put a muzzle on him to keep him quiet . Aizawa ignores him and continues on, “punching them has to be disciplined as well.”
Disciplined. Izuku hated that word. It sent shivers up and down his spine and made his scars itch. Discipline meant punishment. He knew he would run into this at U.A. sooner than later. He knew his dream school would be just that: a dream.
He should just get it over with.
The punishment? Or is he thinking about something a lot more permanent? Izuku isn’t scared of death. Nothing’s stopping him ( One For All. His nightmare and fantasy. Love and Hate. Beginning and end.) from killing himself. Commiting suicide. Taking his own life. Ending it.
Izuku’s lungs range from hot coals to a raging forest fire. Aizawa is powerful. Aizawa could hurt him over, and over, and over, and over again. He would get away with it. No one would care about a violent, haunted, DEKU.
“Woah kid. You gotta breathe,” Aizawa says sternly. He’s not scared when he says this, Izuku realizes. Aizawa’s voice echoes one of a hero. It takes the boy several more seconds to realize that he is gasping for air in very short breaths. Memories of muzzles and razors (These razors weren’t held by his hand this time) the words fuck up and peice of shit and waste of space fill his head, swarming. They won’t stop.
THEY NEVER STOP.
“Just please,” Izuku begs. The words sounding forein, like they didn’t come out of his mouth. “Don’t put any more scars on me. I can’t hide them all. Please, please don’t hurt me.” Izuku cursed himself for being so stupid. Begging only edged them on more. It only created more pain and suffering.
“Midoriya, I know it’s hard, but you have to breathe. I won’t hurt you. No one will.” What absolute bullshit. Izuku is the definition of hurt and agony. Kacchan used to burn him. It reminded Izuku so much of his own father.
Even through all of this, Izuku told himself to breathe. Longating this spiral would only make him more angry. Anger is a tool, an excuse, to lash out on people. Namely him. Always him. Never not him. He’d take it, though. As long as nobody experienced what he did. Then it was okay.
It was NOT okay. It will NEVER be okay.
Izuku squeezes his eyes shut and pulls at his hair. Today is a bad day. It’s usually much easier to paint his face into something happier, stronger, and hide that he’s slowly losing his mind. But he can’t stop his own brain from swirling, spinning, turning today. And there’s a teacher . Right in front of him. God, Izuku wants to die. It would make everything so much easier.
But he needs to save people like him. Before they lose their minds just like Izuku fears he has.
“Don’t put a muzzle on me. I don’t think I can handle that right now. I think I will die if that happens. I’m not sure if I want that or not.” Izuku knows that he shouldn’t be saying this to Aizawa. It will only lead on to how weak and PATHETIC he is used to be. But a part of his brain doesn’t realize this. It thinks that this is a teacher that only wants to see pain and agony.
Aizawa doesn’t want that. God, Izuku hopes he doesn’t want that.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Aizawa repeats. There’s a hint of urgency in his voice. No one would’ve been able to pick it up. Not unless someone has trained to recognize any slight twitch of the face or change of tone. Which is what Izuku did.
Everything hurts. Why does he have to hurt so badly? Can’t he just be numb?
Rage tries to protect Izuku. He can’t control it. Everything is out of his control. He’s losing everything. Even himself. He yanks at his hair harder, trying to calm himself with the pull of his scalp.
“Don’t lie to me,” Izuku growls out. He can’t go through the torture again. Or Izuku will lose himself. He already is. “Everyone says that. And they’re all lies! I trust them every time, but I refuse to believe them this time.”
God, he wants someone to save him.
PLEASE save me.
He’s tired. Eyes dropping and burning. He can’t sleep yet. He might wake up locked in a locker or closet. He hates when that happens. “Why should I trust you? People only hurt people like me. Useless, worthless, freaks who are broken and bleeding.”
“You’re not useless. You’re a hero,” Aizawa states normally. As if it’s a fact that everyone knows. No one has said that to Izuku before. It’s always been go kill yourself or no wonder your dad left you.
GOD he just wants everything to STOP.
“No, I’m not. I’m broken. Beyond repair. I should’ve jumped off a roof years ago.” He doesn’t mean to say that out loud. Now he’s for sure going to get expelled. But he’s so out of control that he can’t even separate thoughts from voice. Is he talking right now? Mumbling like someone who’s lost their mind? Shattered and so so sad.
“You’ve saved so many people in your short time here at U.A. People would be dead without you. So no, you can’t say you would be better off when so many people would suffer if you weren’t there to help them,” Aizawa’s voice cracks. He can’t bear to see the pure agony being released by this boy. Just a child. So young, so kind and caring.
The world wasn’t kind to him. Aizawa can see that now. And he’ll do everything he can to help his student.
Aizawa speaks once again. Voice barely above a whisper, “I can help you. Do you want me to help you?”
Izuku’s head snaps up. This is the first time he’s looked at Shouta. The tears have stopped and the hands tugging at his hair have released. Only to slowly but roughly scratch at his scarred arms.
Izuku wants help. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand himself much longer if he doesn’t get saved. But does he deserve to be saved?
No. You should just suffer until your final breath.
Aizawa said people would have suffered if it weren’t for him being there to help them. Is that true? Does he really make a difference or is he just a waste of space? The scars on his hips ache and scream. He should have added more this morning. He wanted to.
He thought he was getting better. He thought he could deal with this by himself.
A part of him was just waiting for the perfect time to end it all.
Izuku’s brain is buzzing and there’s a weight surrounding his whole body that he can’t shake off. He scratches harder, but doesn’t feel a thing. He’s numb, feeling too much. He wants to stop time. Stop, stop, stop. Just stop. Will Izuku always be this useless? Everyone he has trusted has told him as much. Kacchan, father, his own caring, neglective mother. Who is he to deny them?
He’s lost himself. Midoriya Izuku doesn’t know who he is anymore. Did he ever know? Has he just been wandering aimlessly for his entire life?
“Midoriya, please stop. You’re hurting yourself,” Aizawa points out. All Izuku can think is that good, he should be hurting himself. It’s what he deserves.
But something pulls him in. His teacher’s voice is soft and concerned. It’s so obviously there that even Izuku can’t deny it. He doesn’t think he would be able to deal with it if this soothing voice was all a trick. It would take the remaining hope he had to ever be-
Be what? Happy? That seems impossible. A scenario that Izuku hasn’t thought of in years. What then? What is something he’s always wanted but never had the opportunity the worth to have?
Moments flash before his eyes. Scars and burns and slaps.
“YOUR A DISGRACE”
“WHAT A FREAK”
“YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET EVER BEING BORN”
Safe. Izuku has never felt safe before. Not truly. He doesn’t even know if it’s normal to constantly be on edge, expecting the worst. Always in that stage when his body is deciding to fight or flight or freeze.
He wants to know. Needs to know what it’s like to be safe. Izuku forces himself to stop scratching his arms (maybe that would make Aizawa less annoyed. He is annoyed, right? Who wouldn’t be when having to deal with him). Izuku nods to the question that Shouta asked what seemed like eons ago. Izuku will accept help if it means to be safe. To get away from this torment life has given him.
Maybe he won’t lose himself after all.
He has to remind himself that that’s wishful thinking. To not get his hopes up.
“You want help?” Aizawa confirms. Izuku forces his worn-out body to nod again. He doesn’t ask what help would look like. What it even is. He doesn’t want to risk Aizawa changing his mind.
“Midoriya,” Izuku looks up, a bit fearful, “You’re not alone anymore. I’ll help you. Save you if I have to. Because I want to.”
He breaks. Izuku’s eyes shimmer with more tears. This couldn’t be happening. No one ever cared for him. Why would they? He was a burden. A worthless quirkless, self-destructive, shattered kid.
He buries his fisted hands onto his eyes, trying to block everything out. But the words start before he can think, “I’m so alone and scarred and I can’t do this anymore. I’m constantly screaming at myself. I want everything to just stop , but it doesn’t. And- and I don’t know what to do anymore.”
Aizawa’s voice is rough and sooothing at the same time, “You don’t have to know. By talking to me, you’re helping yourself. I’m sorry no one was there for you before, but you have me and everyone else in our hellspawn of a class,” Izuku gives out a broken laugh at that, “I’m not going to let you handle your burdens anymore, Izuku.”
For the first time in years, Izuku felt hope.