COLLIDE. // Bakudeku

Choice.

Unedited.

HELP, I CAN'T blink,
My eyes are split into fourths,
My heart still feels what's been there before.

Youngish youth, I've been bred to sow
Yeah, I've been made for more
I'd sell my soul to help you,
But will I ever allow myself to grow?

I still hear my bones shift as I age
But what I've been then has never changed

Youngish youth better not do
What his stupid mother did before him,
Because if he needs love,
he'll take his medicine
And dopamine will fill the gap for him.

Izuku's mother had a beautiful singing voice. It was breathy, low, and like warm honey tumbling over each note.

Growing up, he often thought that it was a shame that she only stayed at home. She could've been anything she wanted to be. She could've sold millions of tickets with the voice only her shower and child knew of.

But of course, no dream like that was within arm's reach. Instead, his mother was subjected to a crumbling marriage, a painful divorce, and raising a child who looked too much like the man she despised(despite how much she did, in fact, love her son).

Izuku remembered always hearing a soft melodic hum after every horrible experience: every slur, every other woman, every sob. His mum often sang to soothe the pain the both of them shared, whether it'd been mental or physical.

When Izuku was five, he heard moans for the first time. He was in bed when his tummy bumbled for something to eat, and his small legs carried him off of his bed and into his parents' room, oversized stuffed piggy in tow.

As he approached the door, he heard grunts and gasps. He ignored the sounds without a second thought and entered, his small voice barely carrying a sound over the noise.

"Daddy?"

The two figures froze in the dark.

"What do you want, kid?" Izuku's father, his name being Hisashi, cleared his throat.

Izuku blinked, struggling to hold the stuffed piggy. "Apple juice, please."

With a sigh, Izuku's father slipped out of bed without a word, really just wanting to get back to whatever he had been doing before. He entered the kitchen and Izuku followed.

As he poured the cool apple juice into the small cup, Izuku asked a question that almost made him spill the contents of the bottle on to the counter.

"Is Mommy home already?"

She was not. She still had a few hours left on her night shift at the hospital, actually.

Hisashi sighed. "Yeah, yeah. Sure."

Izuku's eyes brightened. He'd always been a mama's boy. "Can she read me a story?"

Hisashi handed the cup to Izuku, pursing his lips. This kid was so annoying, really. "Your mother's tired. You fell asleep just fine without a story earlier."

"Oh," Izuku muttered after a sip. "Okay."

Hours passed. Izuku woke up in the early morning to the hysterical screaming of his mother as she expressed her disbelief at the audacity Hisashi had. Bringing women into their bed and shit. Both sleeping with no care in the world, like the one night stand was her natural replacement.

"What kind of sick, twisted fuck are you to even do that?" she asked on the verge of tears. "Why rub it into my face? Why do you resent the thought of me being sane?"