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Izuku was alone, yet that wasn’t new, it never really went away that achinging loneliness. It simply grew stronger and weaker, and right now it felt like it was encasing him in chains and dragging him away. It made his head swirl and his heart ache as he watched the sideways glances from the students around him. Their weary expressions and fearful eyes as they watched his every moment. Yet he felt it wasn’t unwarranted, though Shoto would disagree, he was terrifying. He had killed a man and even if it was for the sake of a million others he had still taken a life with his own two hands. The loneliness tugged and yanked him further and further away from himself, dragging him into being a husk of the person he once was. Hurting the people who still stayed because even they weren’t enough to keep him afloat. There were apologies from the three, the same he was given for his entire life.
“I’m sorry Izuku, they just don’t understand”
“I’m sorry hunny I’m trying my best.”
“I’m sorry kid there's nothing I can do.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I'm sorry"
“I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry”
That's all he ever heard, pitiful sorries that mean nothing and fell on deaf ears. Even then, after countless promises of staying close and not distancing themselves, two of the three promises were broken. Whether they wanted to or didn’t realize it, they still left him alone and drifting. Yet he was never truly alone, he had soft yet rough hands ruffle his hair, tired yet kind eyes look into his with the same look that he always felt. He was fading, the mist of emptiness was dragging him away yet it seemed that it wasn't dragging him away alone.
He was doing his best to stay present, yet everyday he seemed more and more gone than the last. When looking in the mirror he didn’t even recognize the boy he was anymore, boy that’s what he was wasn’t he? He hadn’t even reached the age of 18 yet he had already taken a life with his own hands and suffered more than most adults. Though he didn’t look like a boy, no he looked like a ghost. With a gaunt face and dark circles under his eyes, scars trailing across his face and arms and skin. His freckles blossoming across his face like tiny bruises, it made him feel worse with how even his body seemed to be slipping away. It opened his eyes though, he noticed how Aizawa was also slipping, it made him more aware of everything.
His eyes opening made him realize his fate, yet the thought of the mist consuming him didn’t seem all that scary. Not when Aizawa would hug him on the rooftop and pet his hair as they shivered in the chill of the night.
The days were blurring and his mind was spinning, everyone seemed fine but them two. It seemed the majority of the class had moved to just ignoring him. Though Kacchan Bakugou seemed to glare holes into the side of his nearly daily. Though his friends would always manage to drag him away, yet his curiosity never seemed satisfied. He noticed how his appearance was changing in ways he didn’t think the others had noticed. (everyone beside Aizawa, Aizawa always noticed. Just like Izuku noticed everything about him) His memory was foggy and his grades were dropping, no longer was he the bright boy at the beginning of UA. His head hurt. Everything ached, his bones, his muscles, his skin. Everything. He stopped meeting with Yagi All Might, there was no point his quirk just hurt him all over again. After every time he used his quirk he felt more exhausted. Like his quirk was done with him and wanted compensation for his actions. It seemed like his own quirk hated him.
He didn’t bother heading home, it was just like when he was younger all over again. His own mother couldn’t bear to look at him. Everytime she did all she saw was a monstermurdererkillerevil boy she no longer recognized. He was a mistake again, a stain to her reputation. So he stayed on campus with Aizawa, avoiding everyone but the man. He knew this was bad for him, he should try reaching out yet the mist clung to him and drew him back to the one person he felt safe with. His eyes struggled to stay awake during the day yet never closed during the night. It’s like his body was flipping and switching and changing and making him seem so different then he once was. It felt familiar in a sense. He was the odd one out, the 20%, the freak with no power. Now he was the killer, the one who doesn’t deserve to be a hero, a freak with too much power. The tides have changed and now he’s neck deep in water unsure if he’ll be able to keep afloat. Maybe that’s what's keeping him close to aizawa. They were both barely keeping afloat, so close to drowning, yet they would be drowning together and that's what makes it alright.
There were no more apologies, not a single one was uttered to him anymore. It would just be any empty sorry, nothing but pity shoving the words down his throat and causing him to choke up. No empty promises made alongside the useless sorries. No tears maring his shoulder and making his skin crawl. He was starting to forget himself, who he was.
Everything he once knew felt like a distant dream, a figment of his imagination that he made up to console himself in the dark. A lie whispered by the wind as he sobbed into his knees after bandaging his burns after another day of school. Yet he knew it happened, there was scars, and buildings, and pictures to prove it. Yet it never seemed real, not anymore.
He was drowning, he woke up drowning in exhaustion, in pain, in loneliness. It was break, no one was at school aside from him and Aizawa. The experience was mutual it seemed, both were exhausted. They were gone, no longer the people they once were. They were husks of a soul, empty vessels that carried the sorrowful remnants of their soul. It seemed instead of being the first to go their soul was the last to go.
They awoke in a field of flowers and soft grass, it felt as if they were alive. They were them again, yet different in the best ways. They were stars, they were flowers, they were planets, they were trees, they were foxes, they were grass. They were everything and themself. It was perfect and finally felt right, they had become this long before their bodies or mind realized.
Their souls had long since left their bodies and adapted to the land. The second the mist had begun to creep into their mind, their bones, their souls had begun to leave. Their souls left and turned into the golden rays of sunshine that would decorate your sullen bedroom. They became the vines that wrapped and twisted and covered. They became the silence, the rain, the grass, the earth, the sun, the stars, the emptiness and the life. They had changed and turned and grew and broke and shattered. Everything and nothing happened. While their bodies, now just empty husks, traveled and passed the time their souls bounded through the field. Smiling faces, coming closer and closer. Family. They were so close to being a father and a son. They just had to wait for the bodies to follow.
Their bodies slipped, resting. Limbs falling, pill bottles rolling, tears streaming. The silence was deafening, the smell was intense. Rot spread, eating and consuming. Letters left untouched for days as break passes. Screams and sobs sounding through the halls. Pictures set up on shrines, incense lit, papers tear stained.