To the Shattered | A Villain Deku au

Let go (3)

The sun rose like it did any other day. Only a heavy cloud hung in the air despite the sky being crystal clear. Izuku rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling as his eyes opened. He felt too heavy to move, too worn down to do anything. Rotting like this would be kind. Not having to drag his cemented body around would do him good. Alas, he has class... one last day to go before the world blinks away and he is able to finally rest.

Rest...

He's so tired, so, so very tired.

Izuku lets his eyes drift closed again, a few more minutes... just a few. He jolts awake when his phone goes off. Oh... His mother is calling him. He sighs, dragging an arm that feels as if it's heavier than the world itself. He slides to answer. "Oh, you're up. I called you out. You never sleep in, so I figured you were feeling ill. I left your breakfast out if you decide to eat."

Izuku hummed while hanging up the phone.

He rolled onto his side, delaying things a day wouldn't hurt. He's too tired to get up from bed anyway.

That following morning was no better, but he forced himself awake and sat at the table in front of his mother, sleeves pulled tight over his arms. He poked at his food. Maybe he should have one last bite of his mother's cooking. Just... one more bite. He lifts one forkful into his mouth and swallows. His throat closed and his stomach lurched, but no bile reached past his lips. He was not hungry, he wanted nothing down his stomach. He didn't feel like putting the effort in to put the fork to the food and lift it into his mouth either. He looked up to his mother, but Inko said nothing, she just waved and smiled.

Something was wrong with her child, but she couldn't ask, couldn't dare to pry. After what she'd done... her poor baby must feel awful, and she can't bring herself to apologize. She's awful. Would a sorry even fix things? She's such a horrible mother. She should sit him down and discuss things, but she can't. She can't tell him and crush him like that. The history of his father, the things she knows and should speak about. The illegitimacy of the paperwork and records of her husband... her heart is heavy, but her tongue is heavier. How could she say anything more? What if what she's seeing now is a warning sign? What if that son who never let anything get to him is finally buckling beneath the pressure he struggles against? It's her fault... if she had found out about Hisashi sooner—left him before Izuku was born, oh how much of this could have been avoided? If she could get the courage to risk telling him about that quirk, could she mend what she must have snapped?

She had so much to say, but Inko only waved her son to school. He never missed school. Izuku was the type to go even with a fever... yesterday was terrifying, and today he's sluggish, he didn't take more than a bite of breakfast. Maybe she should ask if he's okay? Ah, but he is probably still confused and trying to understand why she freaked out. What if she did more harm than good by trying to reach out to him?

Izuku arrived late for him. While he had a history of being there at a minimum of ten minutes early, he walked in as the bell rang. He took his seat and dropped his bag. He took five minutes to pull his things out, but the hero notebook never came out of the bag. He's not even sure he brought it with him. He'd just leave a voicemail for notes, it's easier anyway, too much work to pull out a pen and paper.

The teacher came around collecting final assignments, only stopping at Izuku's desk waiting. "Your homework?" He states, tilting his head with his outreached hand.

Oh, right, he'd forgotten about that. From that day and then his day off yesterday. It slipped his mind among everything. Suppose there's no point in handing in old homework if he's not going to be here for the grades to mean anything. "I forgot." He tries to keep his voice from sounding dry and to talk with life, but there is only so much effort he can put into faking everything. He doesn't say that he'll turn it in tomorrow or later, he doesn't want to lie, to give false hope.