another MHA angst story

a new job

Eventually All Might let it go. When Izuku got home he was beat to a pulp, he was prepared, he knew it would happen. It was bad.

He managed to get out with minor burns, some bad bruising, but no extra face injuries! He could hide everything else.

He found his dad had completely broken the lock on his door. No feeling safe at night anymore. That meant less sleep for him, so exciting !

Izuku didn't sleep at all that night, actually. Mostly because his parents were yelling all night and he could hear his dad making threats to hurt him to his mom, trying to gain something, it didn't work because she didn't care about him either. But the other part of it was obtaining a working license and beginning to apply to jobs, planning to send them early in the morning.

A few rough days later he finally got some emails back.

He had been accepted to 2 of the jobs he applied to, both were looking to schedule him at different times. He accepted both, the more money he could get the better. UA wasn't cheap.

A week later and he was barely standing. His jobs were exhausting, but the money was worth it. When he got home he opted for shoving his dresser in front of his door to create a makeshift lock. He then fell asleep for a good 9 or 10 hours while his dad was passed out.

But the second that man woke up he was yelling. Izuku slept through it. He slept through him trying to break down his door, his empty, drunk threats.

He slept through it until a burning sensation ripped him out of his dreams. His body switched into fight or flight as he threw himself out of his flaming sheets. His shoulder was on fire.

He tried to pat it out, but his dad restrained him against the wall and prevented it. Izuku screamed as the flames bit right into his skin. His dad covered Izuku's mouth.

Izuku screamed louder and the flames burnt deeper, reaching fat, and began to spread further down his arms.

His mom came in and poured water on him. Half his shirt burnt off. His covers were partially gone, leaving smeared, black ash on his bed.

His parents began to argue. In his bedroom. He sank down against the wall and covered his ears.

His chest was tight. He felt that newly familiar surge of panic. His shoulder hurt so bad. It hurt so so badly.

And now his parents were fighting in his room. His only partially safe space completely violated. He glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand, his vision blurring with the waves of pulsing pain.

6am.

He would leave in 15 minutes. He dragged himself out while his parents were distracted, too cought up in their stupid argument to notice him sneaking away.

He went over to his closet, quickly grabbing his uniform, ignoring the dizziness that took over him after every slight movement.

He went to the bathroom and stared at his shoulder. It was bad. Like. Really really really bad.

It was burnt and his skin was destroyed. He could see bits of yellowish fat that protected his muscles. The weird thing was that it didn't hurt. It hurt when it was happening, but now he didn't feel anything.  He was tempted to touch it.

The skin around it had taken on a brownish leathery look. The wound itself was dry looking. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought, after all, it didn't hurt anymore.

It looked similar to the way his back had though, and that had been a bad injury. The pain on that was excruciating, whereas here, only the areas around the burn hurt badly.