Izuku woke up gradually.
It was the kind of morning where you already woke up a while ago, but your brain decided in advance it wasn't ready yet, so you continue dreaming anyway.
And Izuku was having a really good dream, too. It had All Might in it, and they were fighting villains together. Izuku was doing really well and was totally winning with his awesome quirk (it was the type of dream where he never consciously became aware of what that quirk was, but he was winning and the villains were losing so it didn't matter too much).
The movements and breeze against his face felt all too real and exciting, and Izuku couldn't help but smile, nuzzling further into his cocoon.
There was a weight, however, that stopped him from pulling his blanket closer.
Izuku relaxed when he acknowledged that his Mom must've come into his room at some point during the night to comfort him from a night-terror. Izuku never remembered them, which was apparently normal, but his Mom could relay with scary detail the way that he would kick and scream and cry. There was a point, several years ago, when she had stopped telling him when they happened, but Izuku always knew anyways because she'd be there next to him in the morning.
He pulled stubbornly at the covers with the knowledge that his mom was a well-known blanket hoarder, and fell comfortably back into the dream before he knew it.
The extremely rude awakening of the alarm clock sounding a few seconds later startled Izuku back to full consciousness. He grumbled to himself and moved to get up to set the clock to snooze, as angry at an inanimate object as one could be, when something caught his eye.
The shape of the body under the blankets wasn't right.
It was lean and tall, covered way too much bed, and was not Izuku's Mom.
It wasn't.
It-
Oh.
Oh.
Numbness and a pause. The alarm beeped twice a second. The world was slow.
He crouched to the ground and covered his face before feeling prickly and tumbling over and curling up into a tight ball on the ground.
Izuku felt sick, but he also felt an incredible desire not to move, so he stayed there for a while, letting the alarm sing its song forever in the background while the world collapsed around him.
BEEP.
BEEP.
Go.
BEEP.
BEEP.
Run.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BANG!
BEEP—
Izuku ran for the bathroom and threw up into the tub.
His back arched as he retched in between hiccuping sobs that racked his entire being and shook him as he cried as hard as his body would physically allow.
His arms felt as thin as twigs supporting a mountain (he was convinced that they would break). He collapsed in on himself, unable to keep his body upright, and hit his chin on the side of the bath which made him bite his tongue. He cried harder.
He didn't want to do this. He wanted to go back. He really really really didn't want to do this so please let him go back she was there yesterday why couldn't she be here today he didn't want this he didn't want this he didn't want this—
He would never, ever see her again. Ever. She wouldn't be there to wake him up in the morning. He would never hear her. They would never see another movie.
"-and after dinner, we can do some baking! Sound good?"
Izuku's body felt completely hollow. Nothing felt real or permanent except for the overwhelming thoughts that hurt worse than any physical pain he'd ever endured. The realization of this made him start sobbing again (he had never really stopped).
The ground was cold, really cold, and Izuku felt the weirdest urge to allow it to swallow him whole and just stay there forever and never have to think, or breathe, or do anything ever again—
A hand rested on his shoulder.
Izuku didn't flinch, but he didn't want it to come closer. It wasn't his Mom, and he felt like turning to face it would make it that much more real and who does he think he is, trying to replace—
He comes closer anyways.
"—have to breathe, okay just, you need—"
W-why couldn't he hear it? Was he dying? He must be dying. Nothing else could hurt this bad. He clawed at his throat, trying to take in air, to tear away whatever must be choking him, and something pulled his hands back down and oh god oh god oh god why why why stopitithurtsIneedtobreatheIi'mdyingstopstopstop!
"God, okay seriously, kid, you have to calm down— in and out, breathe with me, uh, just, yeah, yeah, like that, that's a lot better, you're okay, you're in your bathroom and you're okay, alright? Okay…okay good, good, that's great. You're doing great," words cut through the eerie soupy fog in his brain, and he realized that he might actually not be dying, and that the words might be right. He could feel a shaggy rug with his fingers. He could hear a, a faucet? Yeah, he could hear water coming from somewhere and he could see….
The same guy from yesterday, with the spiky red hair; the one he'd bumped into—The one that had taken him to the hospital after his mom got—
Huh. So that's where the words came from.
Suddenly, a paper cup of water was forced into his line of vision.
"Here's some water. You should, uh, probably drink it. 'Cuz, you know, it might be good for you after all….t-that," he stuttered, something that somehow seemed out place with his usual demeanor. How Izuku knew this was beyond him. He continued with more confidence, "It's tap, so it's not too good but I didn't want to leave you when you were freaking out so I used the bathroom sink. If that's okay." he seemed unsure and very out of his element.
Izuku took the water, despite being relatively sure that he would throw it right back up (can you throw up water?).
He also took it because he was too drained and...vacant, to argue. So he swallowed the water from the dixie cup quickly, ignoring the nausea that came with it.
He handed the now empty cup back to the guy, who took and simply set it down on the ground.
There were a few seconds of silence that on any other day Izuku would have deemed awkward, but right now he just felt empty and cold. That or absolutely miserable. He didn't like either of the two very much.
The stranger cleared his throat and shifted, before peering back at Izuku questionably. Or concerningly. Izuku was only good at reading his Mom's expressions, not some stranger's.
Annd he was crying again.
He couldn't help it. Izuku had always been called a crybaby (it was one of the more common 'nicknames' his schoolmates gave him besides Quirkless). Whenever he felt sad, or emotional in any way, we would cry. It was basically second-nature, and it wasn't a trait he particularly liked about himself. But it couldn't be helped.
Especially when every thought brought him back to his Mom.
And now he was sobbing.
"You know what? I don't think I ever told you my name, did I? You never really told me yours either, but I can give you a pass this one time."
And, somehow, the way that he said it so blatantly, as if this were any other normal situation, triggered Izuku to giggle. It was more sad that bubbly, and blended into the sobs, but it was there, nonetheless.
"I'm—" he froze mid-word. Izuku stopped giggling, and the rare high dissipated.
He seemed to be thinking something over, before only a moment later coming out of his weird daze and finishing his thought.
"I'm Dabi." he said as a finality. And something was off about the way he said it, but Izuku didn't consider mulling it over. Thinking clearly wasn't his forté today.
There was another break in the conversation, and 'Dabi' was looking at him like he expected him to say something. "I've literally been calling you 'kid' this entire time, and I'm pretty sure that's not your name, so, help me out here?" he articulated, gesturing at him accordingly.
Right. When someone tells you their name, you're supposed to say yours back.
"Izuku Midoriya." he wasn't entirely sure why he'd said his last name, considering how Dabi hadn't said his, but whatever.
This time the pause lasted long enough for even Izuku to feel a bit uncomfortable, but he didn't do or say anything to break it. He was just, really, really sad. And tired. A sad-tired combo that made him want to stop doing. Just stop doing as a whole, really.
"I'm just going to cut to the chase," whatever was in his voice as an attempt at lightening the mood earlier was gone now, and he spoke bluntly. "We can't stay here,"
He looked like he expected some reaction, and when he didn't get one, he continued.
"Eventually, they'll come and check this place out, and when they do, I don't want to be here-"
"So are you on the run from the police, or what?" he spat. Izuku surprised himself with his words and newfound malice against the person sitting across from him, but things weren't adding up.
Why was he here with this guy, someone who could easily be a villain, and not with someone who actually knows what to do with him? Why did Izuku come with him? Was he being kidnapped? If he really wanted to, could he leave? Or would he be stopped?
"Uh. Sort of. It's complicated, but I didn't like, kill anybody or anything. It's, it's just... complicated. Yeah. Let's just say that," he stood up and offered a hand to Izuku, who swatted it away with a glare (why was he so angry all of a sudden—?).
Predicting Izuku's mindset, Dabi sighed, and then spoke up, "I don't want you to think I'm stealing you or something. You can leave at any time, just say the word," his stare somehow softened midway through the sentence, and his tense and almost defensive posture melted.
Did Izuku want to leave?
Of course.
He didn't want whatever this was to be his life. He didn't want to live with a criminal. Just the thought alone, as a random hypothetical situation, would bring (would've brought) his mom to hysterics.
But.
But at the same time...
Izuku didn't want to do anything.
He didn't want to move on. He didn't want to move forward in time, growing up with another family, a replacement. That was the last thing that he wanted to do.
Maybe...maybe if he stayed with Dabi, it would be different.
He wouldn't replace his Mom, he would, he would just be someone new. Not a replacement , but a temporary, guardian…
He said he could leave any time, didn't he?
Yeah.
Yeah, that's what he'll do.
He'll stay and when he wants to leave, he'll leave.
Okay.
"Okay."
He stood up on his own, and immediately began shaking. Izuku's world spun and tilted before he felt hands latch onto his shoulders to anchor him.
Izuku heard someone talking, but it sounded really far away, so he gave up straining to hear the words.
Then the hands let go of his shoulder.
Izuku had already sat back down, so he didn't fall or anything, but something about the reassuring presence leaving made Izuku feel scared and panicked so he flailed and reached out and please don't leave me here please—
"—I said I'm going to make breakfast, because I'm hungry, and you look like you're about to pass out. Do you want to stay here, or come with me? You didn't say anything last time so I thought you wanted some time alone but—"
Izuku found his arm and yanked, pulling it closer,
"But...I guess not. I'm just going to pick you up, if that's okay? I need some confirmation here because it's a little hard to tell what you want when you won't say anything,"
Izuku nodded sullenly, hugging the arm tighter and frowning into the shirt sleeve.
"I'll take that as a yes, then."
He bent down and tenderly wrapped his arm under Izuku's legs and upper back, hauling him off the ground and into his arms bridal style. He started to stroll towards the kitchen.
"Sidenote, we both stink. Do you know how to uh, wash yourself…" he ended that thought with another one, "wait, how old even are you?"
It was questions like these that Izuku was specifically told by his Mom not to answer, but Izuku would have to get used to it.
Izuku was glad his head was buried in the crook of Dabi's arm, because he was sure he had already seen him cry enough that day (and Izuku could conclude that Dabi really did smell).
"Ten."
"Then you've showered before, right? You know how to?"
Izuku did in fact know how to shower, but he really, really didn't want Dabi to leave him in the bathroom alone.
He shook his head.
Izuku had no idea where this newfound clinginess came from, but thinking about it made him sad, so he didn't.
"Oh. Alrighty then, we, we'll deal with that later," he mused. It didn't take a genius to draw the conclusion that he was uncomfortable with the idea of helping him shower, but Izuku couldn't help it. He needed to be around someone. He trembled at the idea of being left alone again.
Breakfast, apparently, consisted of dry cereal (they were out of milk) and three-day-old microwaved white rice, but he didn't mind.
Izuku couldn't taste the food anyway.
Eating was a joyless task. The rice was bland and stale, and the cereal scraped the roof of his mouth raw.
Dabi moved around the house, sorting through cabinets and drawers, grabbing some stuff and leaving others. Izuku couldn't bring himself to care about anything other than the tightness he felt in his chest when Dabi disappeared into a room, if only for a few moments. He didn't mind that the act was basically robbery. There was nobody to steal from, after all.
Izuku noted that for someone who had minutes before complained about hunger, Dabi wasn't eating anything. He didn't dwell on it.
Memories from countless breakfasts from before played out in front of him. However, much like the food, it only had the texture. The flavor was gone.
How could it be that hardly 24 hours ago she was right here? That they were talking casually, blissfully unaware.
Maybe if he hadn't agreed to go out to dinner that night—
Maybe if he hadn't looked down that alley—
Maybe if he had jumped in front of her instead of running away like the Deku that he was—
Then maybe.
Maybe she would still be alive.
Izuku felt a colossal wave of nausea hit him, so he stood up and tried to dart to the bathroom again but this time the feeling was too sudden, and Izuku's reaction time too slow.
He didn't make it.
The bile stung all the way up and out, and tasted grossly bitter. The sickening noise of it hitting the ground made Izuku dry heave (there was nothing left in his stomach to hurl) and tears formed in his eyes from the pain.
He stood there, quivering and coughing and rubbing tears from his eyes. The top of his mouth, which was already torn up from the cereal, was hurting especially bad. That and his tongue, which he'd bitten down on earlier.
Izuku could see Dabi rushing urgently over, which somehow made him go from sniveling to hiccup-crying all over again.
"Fuck- I mean, uh-shit-wait." He gently coaxes Izuku away from the puddle of vomit and back to the table. After the pain came the guilt and shame of causing such a mess.
Izuku is about to offer to clean it up when he sees the concerning look Dabi's wearing.
"Wow, um hey it's ok, but are you like sick sick, or is this just because-because of, um…"
When Izuku promptly fell into another fit of involuntary tears, he could practically feel the regret radiating off of Dabi from the insensitive question.
Izuku wanted to apologize (for what he isn't completely sure. Probably a lot of things) and assure him that it's okay, but his arms, in contrast to earlier, now felt heavy. The best way to describe the feeling was if you took the tiredness out of exhaustion, and that didn't even make sense, did it? Oh well.
"Um. Do you remember what I told you earlier about how we both smell really, really bad?" Dabi asked bluntly, acting as a human barrier separating Izuku from the spot of throw-up. He took Izuku's lack of response as a confirmation (he thought the question was rhetorical, anyways),
"Well. Yea. We do. Here's the deal, I'm going to finishing gathering stuff up, and you're going to take a bath. You can finish your food first, if you want—"
Izuku pushed away his food.
"or not. That's okay too, I guess. I'm going to start up the bath, and you can wait here," he turned to leave, presumably to fill the bathtub, and Izuku immediately felt scared again. Except he didn't want Dabi to think he was a baby, and didn't want to have to be treated like one. He could go an entire day home alone before, so he could handle a couple minutes alone in a different room.
Nothing's changed.
A minute that felt way longer than a minute passed with the itch of needing to be near someone growing larger and larger by the second. The urge was a pressure that chipped and dug at his skull. It made him twitch and shiver, and he randomly began feeling like breaking down, when all of a sudden—
Izuku heard the bathtubs knob squeak followed by rushing water. Had it only been a minute? Less?
He couldn't take it any longer.
Every step closer to the bathroom made the build-up recede a little more, and when Dabi was in sight it had completely dissipated (pathetic, so pathetic)
Dabi was in the process of putting cleaning supplies back into the space below the sink, a strong aroma of vomit and putrid chemicals wafting off of him, when Izuku arrived.
"I just started it up. It should only be a few more minutes until it's full enough. Even if you haven't done this before on your own I refuse to believe you've never taken a bath in your life, so uh," he grabbed two bottles in one hand by their nozzles, and nabbed a soap bar with his other hand.
"The one that says 'shampoo' cleans your hair, and the 'conditioner' one like. Uh. Actually, I'm not really sure. But, you use both of them anyways, shampoo first and then conditioner, in your hair, and then soap is for your skin. Got it?"
Izuku wished that Dabi could understand that he didn't want to be left on his own without having to say it outright, but he wasn't leaving Izuku much of a choice. He shook his head meekly.
"You want me to explain it again? Because, you know it's okay if—"
"Can't you just shower with me," Izuku asked quietly, shamefully. His mom used to do that when he was really little, and he'd always assumed she'd stopped because she was a girl and he was a boy. But Dabi was a boy, right? So, maybe it would be okay and not weird to ask?
Apparently not.
The second Dabi registered the question, his cheeks reddened and he shook his hands around a bit in front of him, extremely flustered by the question.
"NO! No, uh nope. That is not an option, kid. Sorry, but uh. No."
Izuku looked down and wrung his fingers, feeling a renewed sense of embarrassment. He hadn't meant to make things worse. He just really didn't want to be alone. If one a minute or two of him being in the other room freaked Izuku out, what would happen when the door was closed? He wouldn't be able to hear him moving around, and, and if something happened ? Then what? Izuku wouldn't know until he came out, and then it would be too late, and, and—
Oh jeez—
The constricting feeling in his neck came back and he felt itchy and hot and—
"Okokokay kid, listen to me, please. I'll tell you what," he still seemed ruffled from Izuku's earlier question, but had collected himself enough to finish the thought. "I can leave for a second while you get in and stay on the other side of the shower curtain while you're in there. And then leave again while you get out and get dressed. I'll never be further than the hallway, and if you need anything, just call. I promise I'll answer. Sound good?"
Izuku felt the constricting feeling go away, but the heat in his face and the itchy feeling didn't' fully dissipate. He gulped and nodded nonetheless, wiping away tears and snot and feeling every bit like the little kid that he was. This wasn't helping, crying wasn't helping anything. He was being so needy and dependent, and it was probably annoying Dabi a lot. He should tell him that it was okay, and that he didn't need to stay. He had better things to be doing, after all.
Izuku didn't tell him that. He stayed quiet.
And perhaps, it was the staying quiet that made the rest of the day so bleak.
"Okay then." Dabi leaned over and turned the faucet off, deciding that the water was high enough, and shut the door on his way out, saying that he was grabbing him some extra clothes and would ask before coming back in.
Dabi came back in time for Izuku to be situated in the bath, and got comfortable on the closed toilet seat, telling Izuku that if he needed anything to just ask.
Turns out Izuku felt too ashamed to say much of anything the entire time, and only a few words were exchanged. Even then, it was just Dabi checking in and making sure he hadn't silently drowned.
Strangely enough, Izuku felt even more dazed and floaty after the tub than before. Maybe it was because he'd cried a lot to himself during it. Not the loud kind of crying, but the kind where you don't physically react as tears simply fall down your face. They dripped into the water, he washed his face, and nobody ever had to know. It was refreshing, but he still felt more floaty than before. Weird.
It was because of this new and weird floatiness that Izuku didn't remember much of the rest of the day. He quietly asked Dabi to leave while he got dressed and the rest after was a blur. It didn't feel nice and calm, but it didn't feel sad either. It didn't feel much of anything, actually. Dull, floaty nothingness.
He barely remembered dryly agreeing to sit outside the bathroom door while Dabi took a quick shower. Or following Dabi like a lost dog while he packed up some necessities.
He could, however, recall being outside of his own room (why, he couldn't tell you) with Dabi talking to him. He watched his mouth move, but didn't truly hear anything.
Izuku did become more focused, however, when he saw Dabi grab a large backpack and a small grocery bag off the ground. He slung the former over his shoulder, and tossed Izuku the bag.
"I recommend that you pick out anything that you want to bring with you and put it in there," seeing Izuku nod, he turned around and began walking away, presumably to pack a bit more. He turned around and added, "And don't take too much, it's a bit of a long walk," not unkindly, before continuing down the hallway, leaving Izuku alone.
He felt an upcoming rise of fear, but forced it down. He couldn't the stop itchiness though.
His messy comforter still sat disturbed in his bed, reminding him of how his mother always reminded him to make it every morning. A sharp stab of sickness hit his stomach when he realized she wasn't here to tell him off for leaving things so messy.
Izuku kinda just sat there a while, listening to the sounds of Dabi rummaging through what was once his home to calm the racing in his heart, before reluctantly starting to pack up his belongings.
He tried to ignore the feeling of something missing, something just outside of his reach, his vision. A black hole eating away at the inside of his stomach. Maybe if he ignored it, it would go away.
It didn't.
See you next week! Cheers!