Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warning:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2025-02-23
Words:
415
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
1
Kudos:
108
Bookmarks:
6
Hits:
1,066

Tears speak my pain when my voice can't

Summary:

Izuku never had a peaceful household growing up.
"It’s because I used to be quirkless." Izuku thinks, and blames himself for all the arguing, yelling and anger outbursts that defined his home-life.

This one-shot takes place during Izuku’s third year at UA — At this point in time, Izuku rarely speaks to his biological parents and has a father-like relationship with Aizawa, although he has not been officially adopted.

Notes:

Content Warning:
Mentions of blood, self-harm, past suicide attempts

Just to note:
I am not writing this to educate, nor romanticise borderline personality disorder or other mental health struggles. This isn’t educational as it is purely based off my personal experience, thought-processes, daily struggles as a person diagnosed with BPD, and just like any other mental illnesses, BPD symptoms may present differently for different people.

Sorry this is just a vent fic after an intense episode.

Work Text:

Izuku doesn’t even know what triggered it, but he’s already on the floor, his face drenched in tears and his chest heaving up and down rapidly at an irregular pace.

 

Aizawa quickly, but gently holds Izuku’s hand in place, firmly stopping him from further damaging his re-opened cuts. When Izuku looks, there’s blood under his nails and on his fingertips, and his gaze moves to the currently bleeding cuts on his forearms he didn’t even realise he scratched open again.

 

It just makes Izuku cry even harder.

 

He has never cried this hard before.

 

Not when his dad yelled at him and his mum.

Not when his mum blamed him for causing her so much pain.

Not when his dad blamed him for all the chaos in the household.

Not when his mum threatened to kill herself because of him.

Not when his dad finally left him and his mum.

Not when Izuku tried to take his own life for who-knows-how-many-times and failed. Again.

 

But now that the tears started, he couldn’t stop it.

 

Now that the gates of the dam were opened, no one could stop the flood.

 

He cried like a 4-year old toddler with a grazed knee, crying out for their mum to come and blow away their pain.

 

But in reality, Izuku wasn’t 4 years old, and his knee wasn’t grazed.

 

So why was he crying like this?

 

What was causing him so much pain and frustration?

 

He doesn’t know.

 

Now that the sudden storm had passed, he was just left with the debris and the aftermath of the disaster.

 

All that’s left was the emotionally numbing emptiness.

 

A body pushed past its point of exhaustion, with red-puffy eyes.

 

So he just sat on the empty couch, staring into nothing.

 

Detached from himself, from reality, as Aizawa gently draped a soft, weighted blanket over Izuku, placing a cup of cold water into his hands.

 

Izuku silently stared at the cold cup in his hands. And when he finally decided to take a small sip, he realised just how thirsty he was, gulping it all down like his body had been deprived of water for days on end.

 

Once he's done, Aizawa takes the cup back from his hand and holds him close. In a gentle, but firm embrace.

 

And Izuku slowly relaxes, his eyes closing shut.

 

Letting himself slip into the fog in his mind.

 

Away from his life.

 

Away from the reality.

 

Away from himself, as Aizawa holds him safe.