Mha fluff/angst oneshots

🥀 Deku (pt. 3 final) 🥀

TW's in the description!

Izuku POV:

Months had passed by in the prison, slowly but surely. I spent most of my time sitting on the sidelines, curled in on myself as I watched the other men rough house. They enforced therapy, daily visits. Most of the time, me and the doctor sat in silence, him staring at me as I avoided looking at him in any way possible.

Today, though, he was not willing to let this be another silent session.

"Izuku, nothing will progress if you don't speak. So tell me, why did you cut yourself?" It was straight to the point, no reason to beat around the bush in a prison. I glanced at him and bit my lip to avoid the word vomit I was tempted to spill.

Talk to him.

I can't. He'll try to save me. I deserve to die.

Talk. To. Him.

"Izuku," he said, noticing the internal battle I'm having. "Why?"

"I deserve to die for what I did," I muttered out. "And what did you do?"

I know he knows. He knows that I know that too. He just wants me to say it. But if I even think of reiterating what I did, I think the guilt and shame might consume me.

"What did you do, Izuku?" He was serious every time he spoke. I felt uncomfortable in his presence and I wanted nothing more than to run and hide in my cell. "I killed people..." I whispered quietly. He hummed and nodded. "Why?"

"Because... they did bad things."

"Who lead you to believe that?" I had never stopped to ask myself this question, even after all this time.

Did I really kill bad people? Or did Dabi just tell me they were bad so I would kill them? Did I kill innocent people? I am a monster.

"Dabi..."

My voice was weak in comparison to his. I spoke gently, feeling as though I didn't deserve to speak at all. "Right. So who are you to blame yourself when you were manipulated, Izuku?" I furrowed my brows and stared at my lap.

Stop talking.

He's trying to help. Listen to him, damn it!

Shut up.

"We made good progress today. Let's cut this short, you have a visitor, so let's get you to him, alright?" My doctor stood up, dusting off his pants. I stood up slowly, my ankles cuffed so I couldn't make a run for it. I followed him out of the room, two guards leading us to the visitation building. The clanking of the chains and the sounds of their shoes hitting the floor was the only sound that filled the halls.

When we arrived to the building, I sat in a room, handcuffed to the table. After a few moments of waiting, the door opened and I saw Aizawa. He was in his hero gear, his expression the same as normal. I glanced at his leg and frowned, remembering that day when he had cut off his own leg just to keep me at a fighting chance against Shigaraki. "Izuku, nice to see you," he muttered out before sitting. I knew we were being listened to. I knew we were being watched.

"Nice to see you too," I whispered. he sat on the chair across the table from me. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," I mumbled. He sighed and looked at my cuffs. "How is therapy treating you?"

"Get me out of here," I blurted out. He looked at me with wide eyes before his expression softened. "You know I can't do that." I glared at the blank space on the table, my fists clenching. "How is kacchan?" I asked in attempts to change the subject. "He's holding up. He's on a mission, otherwise we'd be having another breach. Bastard thinks he can just strut his way in here. Can't wait his damn turn..." Aizawa grumbled. I huffed out in amusement, remembering that visit. I was held in a cell for a week, my food and appointments were brought to me.