Work Text:
School Days
☆--.--.--☆
By R3DLEMONADE
3/12/2023-16/12/23
Word count: 2563
☆--.--.--☆
It feels suffocating at times. Sitting and watching and waiting, ever so patient. The clock ticking slowly, teasing him with the eternally slowing seconds. He sits, waiting, ignoring the fear bubbling up in his chest, drowning him in his thoughts.
He clenches his fist, tighter and tighter and tighter until he can feel the skin breaking under his jagged nails. He can feel the sticky liquid dripping into his pants, the pain steadying him. But it’s too much.
It’s like a 4K camera but in his senses. Suddenly, he’s gone from nothing, numbness covering him in a warm, foggy blanket to everything. He’s too alert, heart beating fast too loud, too everything. It’s too much.
Too, too much.
Finally, the clock stops laughing, pitying the characterless child, flicking to 4 o’clock, the bell ringing piercingly loud, his ears always ringing, even for minutes after.
He bolts from his seat, grabbing his books and stuffing them in his bag in a flurry of motion, ignoring the bent covers and slightly ripped pages.
He zips it closed and runs, terrified. He runs until he’s cleared the school grounds, then the two streets leading to his apartment building beside the school, then the park across.
Izuku pants heavily, gulping and gasping for air. He shudders, panting until his breath evens out enough that he can walk without needing to stop every two steps. He sucks in a breath, straightening up to start his power walk home.
He winces, realizing he had pulled at the cuts on his chest from lunch. As a result a child with a claw quirk. he might actually have to stitch these up.
Izuku swears, and sighs, resigning his fate to another night of muffled sobs and bloodied tissues.
He limps back home, careful not to aggravate any more of his injuries. Outside the apartment building, Izuku searches through his bag for the printout of his mother’s schedule. Checking the date, he sighs in relief seeing she's working late tonight like she usually does.
So, Izuku goes into his apartment building, nodding to the usual patrons and ignoring the concerned glances shot his way.
He goes into the elevator choosing his floor. Only, someone waves, calling out to him. Izuku looked up surprised to see a face he didn't know was asking him to keep the elevator door open.
A new tenant, maybe? Izuku keeps the door open for the man, surprised to see two more people he doesn't know enter. They thank him and Izuku nods in return.
The first man has stubble, black medium-length hair and black eyes. The second person is a tired man with black hair and eyes, though his hair is much, much shorter.
The third is a cat.
Wait, what?
Izuku looks at the man again and yes, he's a cat. Interesting, you don't see a lot of anamorphic quirks. He looks to be a tabby cat, because of the orange. Does he have heightened hearing? Can his pupils dilate? They probably can, if the mutation is this visible. He wondered if the man liked catnip? Actually, would that be illegal for him, since it's technically a drug for cats?
Izuku’s train of thought is broken by a snort from the short-haired man. The man looks at the cat man, smiling. “We should search it up, Sansa. Maybe run a test ourselves?” the cat man just glares in return to the man’s comment and Izuku blushes, realising he had just said that out loud.
“I-I'm so sorry I was just interested. I didn't mean to offend you.” The cat man, Sansa apparently, waves him off.
…Paws him off.
…
Never mind.
“It's fine, kid. I've never actually tested that.” Izuku nodded, holding in a relieved sigh when the elevator dinged. That relief was quickly squashed and then spat on when they got out on the same floor.
Izuku power walks to his apartment, digging out his keys from his bag before unlocking his door quickly. He opened the door, but a voice stopped him.
“Hey, kid, are you ok?” Izuku frowns, looking at the Cat man (whose eyes are dilated so he was right!!!)
“There's a wet spot forming by your rib cage, and I can smell blood.” Izuku freezes, looking down and swearing inwardly.
“I-I'm fine, Sir! Just an accident at school, r-rough-housing, you know? I'll fix it up. thank you for your concern!” With that Izuku slams the apartment door shut, shaking.
He trembles, breathing picking up speed. He takes a minute to ground himself, not wanting to go all alert again.
5 things he can see. “C-Chair. Bag. Shoe-Shoes. C-Clothing. Fl-Fl-…Floor.”
4 things he can touch. “…Hair. Bag. Wall. K-Keychain.”
3 things he can hear. “Fan…Fan. Footsteps. Bre-Breathing.”
2 things he can smell. “D-Detergent and Soot.”
1 thing he can taste. “Air.”
His breathing has evened out, and his shaking has subsided.
When he decides he can walk without falling over, he makes his way to the kitchen after taking off his shoes. He puts them down and heads to his room, getting out of his clothes quickly.
He throws the blood-stained shirt and pants into the laundry with the rest of the load.
He turns it, running his hand through his hair and heading to the bathroom.
He scans the cuts in the mirror relieved to see they weren't actually very deep. So he hopped into the shower, washes, and cleans out the cuts, gets out and tends to the wounds properly.
He washes them out thoroughly (but carefully!), puts an antibacterial cream and vitamin E cream, and then puts Gauze over top. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror.
He doesn't like what he sees.
Izuku rubs his eyes blue early, throwing on a dressing gown and checking the kitchen for leftovers. He grabbed some miso, throws it in the microwave and started making some rice.
It's a sad meal, he decides when the rice and miso are heated up and cooked. Miso and rice.
Dinner of champions.
Huzzah.
Izuku eats quickly, finishing fast and then completing his chores. When he's done, he goes and heads back to his room.
If he went to bed now, he'd probably wake up at four or five in the morning. He likes waking up early, it just feels like he gets more out of the day.
The good parts at least.
They have a curriculum day tomorrow, which means Izuku can just do what he wants since Inko probably won't be around.
Hopefully.
Maybe.
He can pray, at least.
Done with the shit that's called a Tuesday, Izuku closes his blinds and goes to sleep.
--.--.—
Shouta frowns, swirling his beer as he thinks, brows furrowed.
The green-haired kid, Izuku Midoriya, who lives in apartment 803 and is technically Shouta’s neighbour while he’s working on this case, is…weird.
Not a bad weird, no, the kid is polite and baked him gingerbread cookies (how the kid managed to guess it was his favourite, he doesn’t know) but he’s skittish.
Shouta’s only known the kid, actually known him, for two months now. They talk in the lobby or in the hallway, Shouto sometimes coming over to teach Izuku how to do something he doesn’t know.
He fixed up a doorframe, taught the kid how to make the best Katsudon known to man (look, his mother taught him it. Of course it’s the best) and helped the kid out with the way to advanced homework he does.
And, when you talk to someone for that long, you start noticing things, and even if Shouta wasn’t an underground pro, he’s sure you can see it quite easily.
Always looking to exist, making himself smaller. Sometimes, Shouta can just lose him in the crowd if his eyes are dragged away for even a second. He’s consistently injured and refuses help unless Shouta threatens to call the kid’s mother.
Who apparently has no clue her son is being violently abused at school. It doesn’t paint a pretty picture.
And to make matters worse, the poor kid is quirkless.
Now, Shouta doesn’t know as much as he probably should about the quirkless people, but just based on horror stories and books, the statistics and laws surrounding them…
Well, to put it simply, the fact that Izuku-Kun is even still alive makes him an outlier in this day and age.
Shouta does his best to help him. He’ll help the kid fix himself up, make the kid food, introduce him to analysis forums and let him rant about quirks.
Izuku-Kun put Shouta’s number down as his emergency contact, claiming Shouta was Inko’s (Izuku’s mother) adopted sibling.
But, despite how Shouta tries, he still has a bone-chilling fear grip him sometimes. A terrified thought that one day, that phone will ring.
…
Shouta doesn’t want to get a phone call one day telling him that the kid he’s grown (to love like a son) fond of is dead.
He wishes the kid would trust him enough to tell him who was hurting him at school. Who was looking at the sweet, innocent kid, and decided to burn him so badly his clothes meld to his skin.
Seriously, just wants to talk to the pigs who call themselves teachers who watch and laugh as Izuku-Kun is hurt day in and day out.
It hurts Shouta’s heart, listening to the kid talk about the teachers at his school so nonchalantly. As though it was ok for his English teacher to laugh at the spider lilies on his desk.
The way he talked, mentioning that it was normal for his mathematics teacher to do something like bring up quirkless statistics in class and point Izuku out, saying it would be him on this board one day.
Like it was normal for his Science teacher to tell him he was a dead-end biologically.
Shouta had a special place for these people. It’s called ‘hell’. He hated people like that. Who sits back and lets it happen.
He sighed, downing the rest of his beer, and paying at the counter. He didn’t know what to do.
But he’d figure it out.
For Izuku-Kun.
--.--.—
Sometimes, Izuku has moments where he just wants to smash someone’s head in. It sounds vulgar, but Jesus Christ, sometimes people are just so infuriatingly annoying.
They act all high and mighty *cough, cough, Bakugou* or act ignorant, naïve even. It makes him angry when people do that. When they refuse to believe something other than their point of view.
Especially adults. They piss him off the most. They get under his skin, making him just want to kill someone.
He hates it.
He doesn’t want to feel like that. Like he has to hurt someone to get his way, to kill to survive. But the itch gets under his skin, burning into his very heart and soul.
He doesn’t hurt anyone.
But god, he wants to sometimes.
It’s a frustrating thing, edging constantly on that line, so close to hurting, killing, and not wanting to because it’s wrong and you shouldn’t, but being beaten down so horribly you can justify it.
It’s incredibly irksome.
Izuku hates it, teetering on the edge. So, so close to shattering, but pulling himself back, if only a millimetre.
One wrong move, one word too far, and his foot is pushed over that damned line.
…
But, this time, someone else is pulling him back. He isn’t alone anymore. Someone new came in. Someone who listens, who understands.
Izuku just wishes it could last forever.
But one day, Shouta-San will have to leave, just like everyone else eventually does. But Izuku can bask in the time has with the nice man he’s grown (to love like a father) fond of.
--.--.—
Shouta knocks on Izuku-Kuns door, a box of the kid’s favourite shortbread cookie in hand, a celebration of graduating online year ten.
For some reason, the kid insists on doing his work throughout the school year instead of all in one day so he can get constant ‘brain stimulation’ even if things aren’t actually difficult.
He’d introduce the kid to Nezu with even just with his analysis, but he’s a coward and doesn’t want to give his boss the joy of having a personal student who isn’t a dick.
Usually, geniuses have big egos because they are…well, geniuses. But they also have quirks backing them up.
Izuku-Kun is just a smart naturally. Hell, the kid’s got an IQ of 174.
So, sure, they don’t need to celebrate it as Izuku-Kun had said, but Shouta digresses.
he firmly believes they have to celebrate these things, to make up for everything that deserved to be celebrated but wasn’t, like some of the kids’ birthdays.
Which, he’s making up for one day.
So, here he is. And when the door opens, he expects Izuku-Kun. And Izuku-Kun is there but with a black eye and tears dripping down his face.
Shouta’s eyes widen, and he places his box on the counter and closes the apartment door, checking over Izuku-Kuns wounds.
It takes 20 minutes to check over everything. It takes 10 minutes to patch and clean everything.
And it takes five minutes for Shouta to make his decision.
When he looks around the apartment, he can see it’s a mess. Clothes everywhere, trash on the floor.
And a thin layer of dust of everything, as though it hasn’t been touched.
“where’s your mum, kiddo?” Shouta asks, his voice soft and he gently cards his hands through Izuku’s hair, holding him close.
Izuku’s breath hitches and fresh tears form. “s-she’s gone, Zawa. She’s gone.” Izuku’s voice cracks, sobs wracking the small child’s (child’s) body.
“s-she just left. A-and s-she didn’t tell me, Zawa! S-she didn’t- “Shh, it’s ok. It’s ok, I promise. I’ll sort this out. you aren’t alone anymore, remember?”
Izuku clutches Shouta’s shirt tightly, a wet spot forming where Izuku’s face is buried in his shoulder. Shouta doesn’t mind, not one bit.
He’d permanently stain every single shirt with Izuku’s tears if it meant Izuku would feel better.
they stay like that for hours. Shouta cradles the broken child in his arms, letting the long-built walls come crumbling down, leaving a raw and shattered core.
A core Shouta will spend years painstakingly, carefully and loving, repairing.
A core Shouta will love and care for until the cracks heal. Until the core is fresh, loving, and new once again.
Until Izuku is Izuku.
But that is not here but there.
Here is the broken child, sobbing in the arms of his saviour.
Here is the son, and his father.
>.>.>
Three years ago, Izuku was newly turned thirteen years old and alone.
Three years ago, sitting on a rooftop would mean he’d given up.
Now, it means he’s with his Dad, watching the sunrise go up, leaning against his hero’s side. Now, it means he’s here. It means he made it.
It means he has something to keep going for.
So here Izuku sits, sixteen years old with his father (and favourite hero), content for once in his used-to-be miserable life.
It had felt suffocating at times. Sitting and watching and waiting, ever so patient. The clock ticking slowly, teasing him with the eternally slowing seconds.
But the waiting he didn’t even know he was doing has ended.
Izuku’s home.
Finally.