Chapter Text
And am I human? Or am I something else?
[M/N] sat on his bed, looking down at the black device. Aside from that one time in the bathroom, it never lit up again. So many unanswered questions, and the answers lie within a device that won't answer him.
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He squeezes the phone, feeling helpless and hating it.
"He shouldn't be here."
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"He doesn't have anything else." Nezu says, filing his paperwork in apathy. "If we take this away from him and leave him alone to suffer there will be nothing left. Aizawa, [M/N] will fade into nothingness if he is pulled from the program." The mouse looked up, dark and soulless eyes connecting with Aizawas. "We have an obligation to not let that happen."
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Aizawa sighs, dragging a hand through his hair.
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Nezu is right, he doesn't want to admit it but the rat is right. If Aizawa pulls [M/N] from the hero course, what will happen to the boy? He doesn't want to think about it. Would he lock himself in his room and waste away? Would he go back to the League of Villains? Aizawa doesn't know, doesn't want to think of the endless dark possibilities plaguing this thoughts.
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He doesn't know what to do anymore.
Mina wasn't always the brightest bulb in the room. She wasn't a genius nor was she a prodigy at anything. But, she was observant.
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She had always been able to connect with people, no matter who they were, on close levels because she was observant.
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Bakugo's eyes always darkened whenever Midoriya was brought up, Mina supposes theres a deep anger between them most likely stemming from a significant childhood argument.
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Iida always strove to be the best in the classroom, the leader type student who made honor roll all throughout middle school. She thinks it's because he has a "second place, first loser" mindset. Hearing that his older brother was Pro Hero Ingenium only solidified her theory.
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And then there was the new kid.
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She had made a mistake with him, trying to rush into a friendship without finding out anything about him. The moment he had flinched, a spark of fear in his eyes when Mina grabbed his hands was when she knew she had messed up.
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So, she tried to fix it by drawing back and instead bringing Midoriya, who she had foolishly thought was his friend, into the conversation. That hadn't worked. As it turns out, [M/N] didn't really like Midoriya even though the boy clearly had a deep infatuation with him.
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She was back to square one. This time though, she was going to do it the correct way.
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Mina watched, and she watched and watched.
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[M/N] had a fear of touch. That was... Concerning.
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[M/N] had deep eye bags, an obvious sign of insomnia.
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[M/N] knew that villain who attacked the USJ on a very personal level. So personal that it wouldn't be a surprise to Mina if there were feelings deeper than your typical friendship.
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He had scars. Scars that told a dark and tragic story and Mina wanted to know everything. She wanted to know him.
"So... What exactly does your quirk do?"
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Hitoshi sat down the weights, looking over his shoulder at [M/N]. "Pretty much how it sounds," He said, "The only way to activate it is if someone responds to me, then I can make them do whatever I want."
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[M/N] paused, breath hitching. This is it, Hitoshi thought. He's going to go back on his word to train. It always ends like this.
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"Could you... Make someone forget certain... Things?" [M/N] asked, voice strangely low. Hitoshi raised an eyebrow questioningly, shaking his head. "No. It's only temporary, the person will snap out of it when they make contact with someone or something."
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"Oh..." He sighed, staring at the floor before looking back up at Hitoshi. "What about sleep? Could you make someone... Fall asleep?"
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That was an odd and specific question.
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"I... Suppose." Hitoshi hesitated, because this was a weird question to ask. "I've never really tried that before. Why?"
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It wouldn't hurt to tell Hitoshi, [M/N] thought. "Well... I mean." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down. "I have trouble sleeping, like... A lot of trouble." [M/N] pointed to his eyebags before sighing with a shrug, "Nevermind, just ignore me, I was just wondering..." He was so deep into his thoughts he didn't even notice when Hitoshi knelt down in front of him.
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"We still have a few minutes to waste." [M/N] head swiveled to look at Hitoshi in surprise. "I could... I mean, If you wanted, I..." Hitoshi fumbled over his words, it was almost adorable. "I could make you sleep, at least for a couple minutes."
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To others, it may have been creepy. To [M/N], it was a gift.
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"Please..." He mumbled. "Make me sleep."
Training with Hitoshi was, in the simplest terms, a pain in the ass.
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Despite the boys scrawny frame, he was strong. Meanwhile, [M/N] felt like a twig with noodle arms. But Hitoshi didn't make fun of [M/N] when he messed up a punch, just like [M/N] didn't tell Hitoshi how horrible his takedowns were.
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Yawning, he took a drink of his water and looked over at Hitoshi who had sweat beading down his forehead. Hitoshi gasped, flinching backwards when something cool was pressed against his forehead. Looking up, he gazed into [M/N]'s cool eyes. Despite the cold, he felt so warm.
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"Are you..." Hitoshi's throat was dry. "Are you doing anything later?" He asked. [M/N] hummed, thinking, "I was going to go back to my... Home. Why?" Hitoshi sighed, shaking his head. This was stupid. He was being stupid. "Nevermind, I'll see you later."
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Watching Hitoshi walk away made a cold rift form in his heart.
The walk home was lonely and dark. Years ago, the dark used to scare him... He'd hide under his covers with a lamp on, pretending it would keep him safe. But, there are scarier things than the dark, he'd come to realize that far sooner than anyone should have.
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"You're such a little whore."
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[M/N] froze, feeling something cold slither across his body as he looked down a darkened alley. There, stood a girl dressed in a school uniform with an older man holding her against the wall. He feels... Not scared. No, he feels anything but scared. He feels... Angry.
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"H-Hey!" He internally curses himself for the stutter as the man whips around to look at him with a glare. "The fuck do you want?" The man says gruffly, still holding the girl by her neck against the wall. "Get outta' here before I fuck you up too." The words are followed by eyes trailing up and down his body, it leaves [M/N] with a disgusting slimy feeling.
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Without thinking, he reels his fist back and throws a punch towards the man's face, hitting him right between the eyes. The man stumbles backwards from the blow with loud yell before looking back up at [M/N], anger shining in his eyes. "You son of a bitch!" He cried, pulling out a knife from his pocket and running towards [M/N].
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He's too late to stop the knife from embedding itself in his hand. It hurts, the sight of his own blood makes him want to hurl and he's almost unable to think straight. Almost.
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[M/N] pulls the knife from his hand with a loud cry, tears falling from his eyes but he doesn't stop. He doesn't stop as he grips the knife in his hand and drives it into the mans shoulder.
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He's so angry. The knife stays in the mans shoulder as [M/N] steps back, watching the blood pool from the wound. There's an awful squelching sound, his eyes lower and he stares horrified as a different knife plunges into the man and sticks out from his stomach.
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As the man falls to the ground, taking his last dying breath, [M/N] looks down at the blonde girl from earlier who watches the man with a smile before turning his gaze to [M/N].
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Her eyes change from excitement to fascination as she stares at him, pulling the knife from the mans back. [M/N] can't move, paralyzed as the girl walks towards him with a gentle smile.
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"It terrifies you, doesn't it."
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[M/N] can feel his heart beating out of his chest, he can't hear anything other than the overwhelming pounding in his brain. The girl grips his hand, licking the blood off with a grin.
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"Don't be terrified of it." She says, voice sickeningly sweet. "Blood is such a beautiful thing, it can be so pretty!" Her golden eyes shine through his soul, a sick feeling settling in his stomach.
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"You're just like me, aren't you?" Her eyes sparkle with awe and a sense of familiarity. "Blood is so beautiful."
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He had died in a pool of his own blood.
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Jonah had cut his name into [M/N]'s backside, shoving a gag into his broken jaw to keep him from screaming--not that he could and licked across the bloody scar, all the while whispering to [M/N] about how beautiful he was.
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Was the scar still there? He doesn't want to know, doesn't want to make the thought of Jonah still having a hold on him a reality.
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When he comes back, the girl is gone. All that's left is a body and blood stained on his hands.
"Fuck, [M/N]."
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Dabi looks down at the broken boy standing in front of his doorway, blood caked onto his skin and a just-as-bloody knife in his hand. Quickly pulling the boy inside, Dabi takes the knife from his hands and throws it into the sink.
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"Nobody saw you, right?"
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Dabi wants to yell when the boy doesn't answer, wide eyes just staring at his floor in dissociation. "[M/N]!" He yells, gripping the boys shoulders. "Nobody fucking saw you, right!?"
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His words finally seem to get through as the boy stutters out a soft; "I-I don't think so."
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Dabi groans, hand running through his hair in stress. "Give me your clothes and get that shit off your skin, the showers in the hallway to the right." [M/N] nods, slowly walking towards the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.
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Watching the boy leave the living room, Dabi glances at the knife hazardly thrown into the sink and wonders; what the hell does he do now?
'Cause I'm so scared and there's no one there to save me from the nightmare that I call myself