Work Text:
Izuku wasn’t sure what to do, so he sat. He sat in his darkened room and his mind began to wander.
He thought about his class trips.
T̶h̶e̶ ̶a̶t̶t̶a̶c̶k̶s̶.̶
He thought about his friends and wondered how they’d be. How they will be great heroes, how they’ll grow up to be amazing people.
He thought about his teachers, how UA was infinitely different from his past schools. He sat in his darkened room, thinking about his mentors. Oh, he prayed they’d be ok, that they would be ok, that they wouldn’t blame themselves.
He thought about his mother, his beautiful, wonderful angel of a mom. He wondered, what he did to deserve someone so caring in his life? He wondered what he could have done differently, to make her believe in him because even after all this time, she still doubted him. He sat, and wondered what he could have done better, to be a better son.
And so, Izuku thought. He thought of all the things that he would miss. The bright, warm sun shining down on the dew that dresses the grass in the early morning. The beautiful snow on the rooftops, glistened against neon lights as he sat upon the buildings and watched the stars. He thought about his early morning walks, the calm before the storm of people flooded the streets.
He thought about what he did, about what he had accomplished in his short, short life. He had saved Eri, her pleading eyes feeling so similar to his, he thought it could have been a reflection. He saved Kota, reminding him so much of Kacchan. How that bit of help that Izuku offered could have prevented him from going down a terrible trail.
He sat and cried. He thought of all the things he would never get to do. Going to Dagobah Beach one last time. Laughing with his friends. Helping those in need, souls who were forced to prevail through the worst of the world and still had yet to emerge.
He sat and cried, about all that he’s done. He could have done more, so why didn’t he? He could have helped Todoroki from his nightmare of a father. He could have helped Shinso, the marks of abuse all too apparent from avoiding everyone to the scars along his cheeks.
Why couldn’t he have done better?
Why was he cured to be so weak?
And so, Izuku thought and cried.
He thought of the stacks of letters, bound together by a piece of twine sitting on his desk.
He thought of the jar next to it, containing a single piece of hair.
He thought of All Might, how disappointed he would be, that his successor wasn’t strong enough.
Izuku sat and thought. He thought of many, many things, but eventually, he couldn’t think.
He began to feel.
He felt regret.
He felt sadness.
He felt happiness and hope.
And simply felt.
He felt the soft carpet underneath his hands.
He felt the wall behind him.
He felt his soft pajamas, slowly growing wetter.
He felt himself slide down the wall, looking at the All Might posters and figures decorating his walls.
He felt himself land on the plush carpet, now wet as well.
He felt the cool metal of a blade against his loose fingertips.
He felt himself growing colder, his fingertips stilling.
And soon, he was too tired to feel, so he just saw.
He saw his glow in the dark stars.
He felt calm, for one in his life.
And so, he let go, letting the stars comfort him as he left.