Whispers

The Boy in the Dream

[TW! Suicide]

"M-mom!" Izuku sat, stiff, "I- I was talking on the phone."

His mother furrowed her eyebrows, "You left your phone on the coffee table in the living room." She stated. Izuku swallowed roughly, not finding another excuse that could convince his mother. She's not dense,

"Has...Has something happened, Izuku?" She asked. Izuku met her gaze, nervously, "You were speaking to someone...right? Does it have to do with why you're suddenly failing in school or your unusual behaviour?"

Izuku averts his gaze and laughed, "Ah, No. It's fine. I...don't really know what to say but everything's fine, Mom."

She gave him a worried look and sighed, "Of course...I'm heading to bed now. I was up early this morning so I'm going to catch up on some sleep. Wake me if you need anything." She smiled sweetly yet tiredly. When she left, Izuku clenched his fists and shut his eyes. He hates lying to everyone and he hates keeping this in. It's so frustrating and tiring but what could he do? He's useless and quirkless, so what could he do with someone who basically had complete control over him?

He laid down and kept his eyes closed and decided it was best to sleep. His bed gave him at least some comfort and he laid there with his thought before drifting off.

A young boy made his way down the street, keeping his head low. A worn backpack was thrown over his shoulder and he had an emotionless look on his face. He looked like he was at least a first-year in middle school. The cold fall wind messed with his messy black hair as he stopped in front of an old apartment building. He entered and twisted the doorknob that lead into a messy apartment with trash strewn across the furniture and floor. He put a hand to his face to try and block out the rancid smell of rotting food and trash, "Momma, I'm home." He called out quietly and set his bag down carelessly at the side of the door after shutting it. He stood there, not gaining a reply. He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge to find rotting vegetables and one canned drink. His expression fell in despair and held a hand to his growling stomach, "Momma!" He called out in the quiet place. His eyes landed curiously at the open drawer in the kitchen but he ignored it and scowled before slammed the fridge door and making his way across the worn wooden floor to his Mother's room, "Momma, You said you were going to bring home food. You promised!" He shouted. He walked out and glanced at the front door, seeing his mother's shoes there, "I know you're home!"

He entered the room once again and sat on his mother's dirty bed with teary eyes, "Why do you always ignore me."

He looked around the barren room, "I didn't make any friends again today. They all ignore me like always. You promised you'd talk to me when I got home. I'm hungry still..." He muttered and rubbed his eyes. He looked behind him to see the bathroom door left wide open and he furrowed his eyebrows, "Momma?"

He stood up and walked to the bathroom and stopped at the door to see a leg. His breath became ragged and he moved his fearful gaze further into the bathroom. His eyes went wide and he collapsed onto the floor with a hand over his mouth.

His mother was there in a pool of blood and a myriad of cuts on her skin. Her blank eyes stared straight at him and her hands loosely laid on the handle of a kitchen knife that was plunged deeply into her chest,

"Momma?"

He crawled towards her desperately,

"Momma?!"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her violently, "Oi!" He yelled and screamed and cried constantly with tears streaming down his face. He held his precious mother's body close to him and hugged her tightly and let out a loud, pained wail of agony. He cried and laid his head on her chest and after a few hours, he had no tears left to cry. He looked down at the knife and he suddenly grew angry. He angrily ripped the knife out of the body and sat in front of her, shaking. He raised the knife and stabbed her, over and over again,

"I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

He wailed and cried, "I hate you so much! Why?! You said you wouldn't leave me alone."

He gripped the knife handle and threw it. He collapsed onto his mother again and held her tightly.

"I don't want to be alone."

Izuku awoke abruptly with wet cheeks and his heart beating quickly. He looked around his dim room filled with the faint lighting of the sunset. He looked at his bedsheets and wiped his wet face, filled with confusion. Why would he dream of something like that? Who was that boy? It made no sense to him but he felt bad for the boy. His heart was heavy with sadness and it made him feel heavy. He shook away the dream and got out of bed. He got changed into clean clothes and looked at the clock that read 5:10 am,

"11 am..." He murmured to himself. He gasped quietly at a sudden thought.

Could the boy have been...Mikumo? A memory, perhaps? Though, why would he see it? Mikumo's quirk allows him to be in someone's conscious and allows him to mess with brain functions too. Could being in his head for so long happen to exchange memories as well? Mikumo has the ability to dig up Izuku's memories so could it work the same for him as well? Izuku put that thought away and walked to his kitchen. He stared at the knife hold in his kitchen and walked towards it. He viewed the knife similar to the one in the 'memory' and clenched his teeth. Is it okay to feel bad for him? The one who hurt him? The one who hurt other people? He didn't know how to feel about what he saw and it tortured him. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to find his own mother's dead body. What kind of life was he living? What was his motive, most of all? Would there be hope in Izuku's situation if he could...

Help him?

[Forgive me for the slightly shorter chapter! Also, thank you for reading! It means a lot to me!]