Falling (But Always Reaching My Hand Out To Be Saved)

Tw: child abuse. Read at your own risk!

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The following weeks consumed Izuku with his wings out of the binder. During class, he could feel the stares he was getting, but he desperately tried to ignore their prodding looks. At times, it made him feel small and looked down upon, and all Izuku wanted to do was commit to feeling that way, hunching his shoulders in, and dropping his head.

Bakugou (Kacchan?) had been a present nagging to the questions about his quirk, although he only asked once a day in a gravely, rough voice, it had always set Izuku on edge. He knew that the blonde wouldn't stop asking until he got the answers he was satisfied with, but it seemed that he had stopped being physically harsh on him. Izuku only thought it was because of Bakugou's suspicion about his mother.

Izuku wanted to believe that Bakugou might care for his well-being after all, but that was more of a wish he had. Although there was a recognisable slowdown in the bullying, the heavy feeling in his chest that it is all an act, he just wants to know about everything, he doesn't care, which sits painfully as a constant thumping.

The feeling would pulse under his skin as he heard his bully's (classmate, friend?) voice growl at someone across the room. His wings would twitch, now free from the sling, but in caution not to be used for flying until he had more extensive rehabilitation for them. This was the cause, it made Izuku feel exposed and weak, and some mornings he wanted to disobey those words and tuck himself into the binder where no one could see him, see his misshapen wings.

It had been a concurrent thought, fueled by his mother's words and driven by his self-loathing. Izuku knew, deep down, that none of this would've happened the way it did if he had just stood by and let the villains take his classmates. If he has just been quirkless.

Everyone seemed to fret over him like a child, at some point, Hawks had even knocked on his bedroom window and asked to come in after Izuku had been ignoring his messages for the duration of a few days. He told Hawks he couldn't show up like he did anymore, moving into school dorms in a few day's time after the events of the training camp.

He was sick of himself, sick of the wings and his mother and those who surrounded him, caging him. Izuku knew they were just trying to help, that is why Aizawa had given his number, why Hawks visited him that night, and why Bakugou was constantly asking because, in their way, it was looking after him. But Izuku, just wanted them to look away and forget that he had a quirk, forget that everything happened so he could go back to suffering in silence and enduring less hurtful (abuse?) from his mother.

Izuku wanted to believe it was easier this way, that maybe being alone and isolated from his class was the safest thing for him, but really, all he did want was to be saved.

After Recovery Girl did her last round of healing on his broken wing, Izuku was cleared to fly with them again. He had felt relieved, that constant yearning in his stomach to take off into the sky and find solace in its breeze had been a presence he wanted to ignore. Izuku was almost excited about class tomorrow, despite that it would be the first time he flew in front of his classmates. He missed the feeling too much to be worried about his peers.

When the following afternoon came, Izuku had wanted to bite back in his words as he followed the boys into the changing rooms and got dressed in his sports gear. He had made an effort to take his shirt off in a secluded corner, not quite ready to show anyone what he spent years trying to hide.

Aizawa, earlier that day, had given Izuku a few new sets of uniforms that were properly tailored for his wings to sit comfortably. He had almost wanted to smile from the warm feeling in his chest, as instead of using scissors, someone took the time to actually think of him.