Ashes of the Deceived. (Izuku Midoriya x reader.)

Chapter Twenty-Four.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR KIND WORDS AICAJ007

—First Person POV.—

Since Izuku has been free, I haven't been able to sleep. There are endless nightmares and shadowy figures looming over my bed.

The distasteful smell of lingering smoke constantly brushing over my nose— Along with the yips of the fox at my bedroom door.

Something has to be done.

I'm not afraid of the dark; I've always slept like a log, and I've been in more than my share of dim and dangerous places.

I've seen most of what there is to be afraid in this world— And to tell you the truth, the worst of them are the ones that make you afraid in the light.

The things that your eyes see plainly and can't forget are worse than huddled black figures left to the imagination.

Imagination has a poor memory; it whisks away and goes blurry.

Eyes remember for much longer.

So why am I so creeped out by a dream? Because it felt real— And it's been here for too long.

I open my eyes and don't see anything, but I know, I know, that if I reached down below my bed, some decaying arm would shoot out from underneath and drag me to hell.

I tried to blame Izuku for these nightmares, and then I tried not to think of him at all.

To forget how our last conversation ended.

To forget that he charged me with the task of recovering my knife and, after I do, killing him with it.

Air leaves my nostrils in a quick snort even as I think the words, because how can I?

So I won't. I won't think of it, and I'll make procrastination my new hobby— Nodding off in the midst of history.

Luckily, Mr. Clayton would never realize in a million years, because I sit in the back and he's up on the whiteboard spouting off about the L'manburg wars.

I'd probably be really into it, if only I could stay conscious long enough to tune in— But all I get is blah blah blah, nodding, blew up, snap awake and repeat.

When the bell rings for the end of the period, I jolt and blink my eyes one last time, then heave out of my desk and head for Denki's locker.

I lean up against the door next to his while he shifts his books in.

He's avoiding eye contact.

Somethings bothering him, his hair is less fluffy than usual and looks almost wet— Maybe he showered before coming to school and didn't have time to dry his hair?

His clothes look cleaner too— I'm willing to bet that he's putting on the charm for Jirou.

"What's up sparky?" I greet with a snicker "Why's it look like you swam through a car wash on the way here?"

"Haha." He deflates "How are you so cheery?" He questions, shoving another book inside his locker "Haven't you seen the news? My mom was watching it and I saw when I came out of the shower."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, deciding to feign innocence— Or ignorance, or maybe both—

"The news." He leans near me as his voice lowers "The guy in the cemetery, you know.." He glances around, but no one is paying us any mind.