Actions

Work Header

Beautifully Broken - Open End (English)

Chapter Text

Deep breath in – and a deep breath out.

The cold stone burned beneath his bare feet.

Red shoes – worn out and used, covered with a thin layer of dust and dirt – stood a bit away filled with crumpled paper that was brimmed with smudged ink and tear stains. The text being an unsung hymn to death and about the beauty of the end.

The boy stood with a lazy posture at one of these places which were normally only visited by humans who loved the extreme and even people like them wouldn't be as relaxed and satisfied as the green-haired boy who opened his matching green eyes just this moment with the unbearable wish to witness his future when it passed him by.

He spread his arms like he wanted to embrace this rotten city he looked at with all his heart and never let it go. The city in which he had lived and which had torn him apart and destroyed him.

Even though that wasn’t what he was looking for, nor his objective – no. He wanted to say goodbye because this should be his last act.

His dull and empty and lifeless eyes, that sunk into his skull like the ones of a doll, vanished again behind a thick, black curtain of eyelashes only to be exposed to the wind that howled around the building and the sun that shined down cruelly and mischievously from up above for the last time.

Without any concern he let his weight drag him forward and lifted his feet from the steady stone they rested on.

It was almost like he laughed as the ground came closer, while his end rushed toward him.

But how should he know?

In the end, he only heard a loud crack.

A high ring resonated through his ears.

Everything turned into a blinding white.

Black.

Finally, it was over.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Gasping he sat up.

Everything hurt!

Screaming he doubled over, tears streamed down his face as he gasped for air, clutching tightly to his side.

More pain.

Suddenly the lights turned on, they burned ruthlessly into his eyes.

It became noisy.

People. There were white-blue people without faces!

Weights pushed him down, back onto the soft ground; he didn’t even recognize it was there before.

Something pricked his arm and his rabid heart turned sluggish. For a moment he feared it would stop beating at all – it didn’t.

His lungs filled with breathable air, no longer moving in a fast and flat pattern.

His thoughts calmed down and he finally understood that the high noises that were beaten into his skull seconds ago turned slow and quiet.

He lied there, dazed.

Everything was blurry and he knew something was missing.

He just couldn’t point out what.

He was tired.

With a yawn, he nuzzled into the soft warmth.

He fell asleep fast and without noticing it at all.

The doctors in the room looked at the boy with worry in their eyes.

Izuku Midoriya had been found half-dead and comatose behind his school.

He had a severe traumatic brain injury and his right body half, containing: Collarbone, lower arm bones, lower leg bones, ribs, pelvic bone, and the most hand bones were slightly cracked to completely broken.

He had remained comatose for 104 days. It was likely that he lost sight on his right eye and presumably he would be left with a limp and it was to assume that he’ll never be able to use his right hand the same way he used to.

But the worst thing was: He had left his shoes on the rooftop, inside them had laid a suicide note in which the boy explained that he didn’t want to be saved at all costs.

That he had been quirkless, weak, suffered years of violence and abuse, most of it coming from the only person he would call a friend.

His mother didn't trust him and he knew how bad and miserable his future looked like; to die was his best option.

But the letter had been found after the operation started and the doctor couldn’t stop then.
If he had known how bad his patient's life had been he would have probably stopped.

A human who suffered so much shouldn’t be forced to stay alive.

Absorbed in his thoughts the man shook his head.

He swore an oath that he would save every life as long as he was able to.

And this boy deserved a second chance as well.

Death may seem like a solution but it really wasn’t.

The kid was twelve but he had a lot of old, horrible scars littering his body.

Nobody except his mother ever visited but the woman was loving and sweet – they were quite sure that the loss of her son would have been her end.

It was good that Izuku was awake now.

In a month or so Midoriya would be able to leave the hospital. 

His bones were mostly healed already he just needed to learn how to move and eat again.

And about his mentality… well.

Nobody needed to know that this kid actually was in dire need of therapy, he was quirkless after all – he wouldn’t survive much longer.

To make dying easier for him was the biggest act of grace they could provide.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

With gritted teeth, Izuku limped out of the Hospital.

His mother had tried to make him use a wheelchair, at least crutches, still, the boy had rejected the help and also didn’t want to be supported by her.

His open and remaining eye flitted around, always searching for some kind of threat.

The other one, the right one, which was left empty and lifeless, was hidden beneath a black eyepatch so that others wouldn't be scared by the sight of his eye and the scars.

The scars at his hands weren’t that easy to cover.

Right now bandages were wrapped around his arms and hands and he had bought some thin gloves although he couldn’t wear them forever.

Inko watched worried as her little baby limped towards their car. 

Each step made him flinch a little bit, yet he tried to suppress it each time.

He no longer looked like a child, rather like an old man - broken and marked by life.

She took a deep breath and put on her best smile before she got inside the car.

“Mum. Please- please say nothing. Please don’t talk. Let’s… let’s just… let’s just drive home, okay?”, the emerald-eyed boy mumbled defensively before his mother could even open her mouth to try to lift the spirits a little.

It hurt her heart but she understood why her son wouldn’t want to listen right now – so she sealed her lips and it remained that way.

The drive went accordingly in a cold, smothering, hopeless and sad silence.

And their arrival at home didn’t make it any better.

Izuku threw his bag over his shoulder and went to his room as fast as it was possible for him. 

Without a word, without food and when she tried to get him because she had made Katsudon he didn’t even leave his room and only told her to leave him alone.

If Inko had known that the drive would be the last moment where she would see her son for a long time she would have insisted that he’ll get out of his room.

But in the way things were she'd go into his room the next day at 14:36 and only find a pile of torn Posters together with broken action figures in the midst of the room.

Every closet would look like it had been emptied in a haste, clothes would be spread all over the space, everything essential would be missing, the window would be left open.

Her child would not be there, the only excuse would be a scribbled text on a crumpled paper on the table.

It would say that he'd be never going to return to his old life and that she'd surely be called to identify his corpse soon – if he finally had some luck in his life.

She’d break down in tears.

She’d go to the police but the investigation would be closed after some years, even though there were signs that he was still alive.

She’d search for Izuku alone but her child would never return.

But Inko Midoriya didn’t even think that this would happen and so she let her son go.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

At the same moment the door closed behind Izuku he let his bag hit the ground and looked around in his room hounded when he felt like he was observed and laughed at.

There were All Might posters and figurines everywhere and some other heroes in between.

The "symbol of peace" grinned down at him with his dramatic looks and his fake smile. Stared deep into his soul with his overshadowed eyes and made him freeze.

All these heroes and quirks were absolutely useless!
No hero ever saved him!

On the other side… why should they help him? Izuku Midoriya was a nobody.

In a fit of anger, he ripped the first poster off the wall before shredding it to shards and throwing its remains on the ground.

Hoping wasn’t going to save him!

Clumsily his nails buried themselves into the next piece of paper and yanked it off the wall, tearing another picture in the process as well. Both were turned into snippets with jerking movements in mere seconds.

Tears formed in the corner of his eye and he gritted his teeth together roughly enough to prevent them from overflowing and to make his head hurt.
He wanted to scream and to throw a tantrum, it was his deepest desire to let it out but that would not work in his favor – and so he removed poster after poster violently before destroying it.

On Monday he would have to go back to school and he didn’t want to; he didn’t want to hand himself over to Kacchan and his companions, to embarrass himself in front of the teachers, to be the laughingstock of the whole class!

The figures he collected over the years so thoughtfully were thrown across the room and landed on the ground with a clatter when he threw them down from his shelf with a sudden movement of his arm.

He panted with a heaving chest as he stomped in their direction and raised a foot to stomp down on them.

Never ever again a crack sounded this satisfying.

He ravaged his whole room and destroyed what he could, broke what broke him.

He wanted to flee and forget what he went through because of others! 

...

That was the solution!

He sprinted towards his desk and scratched his farewell in little words onto a tattled paper before he rushed to empty his closets.

Without any care, he shoved everything he deemed necessary into his backpack: Clothes, money, food, bottles, a sleeping bag, his notebooks, and pencils.

Quickly he looked around.

Did he forget something?

That only one of his eyes functioned made it difficult for him to capture everything with one glance although this made him recognize some things he would have most likely overseen with one quick look.

Everything he did, happened quickly and unheard.

In the end, he opened his window and climbed out of the house.

He wasn’t going to stay dormant any longer!

That’s what he had decided when he started training in the hospital.

Ungracefully he landed on his feet in front of his window and started walking as soon as he rightened his position.

The night had just started and nobody knew he was running away, nobody was going to stop him.

Smiling he pulled the hood of his black hoodie into his face.

Everything will be forgotten soon.