Sorry for not updating last week. I'm currently doing History coursework, and no matter how much I love the subject, it still pains me and takes ages for me to scan through history books for interpretations. I also have an important test coming up on Wednesday which forms the basis for whether I get accepted to one of my top university choices, so I've been a but pre-occupied. All that's to say, I didn't have enough time to write...so, sorry.

Content Warning: Self Harm 

At first, the call was going well. They both asked how the other was doing, making basic polite conversation. It was awkward, to say the least. Inko's voice was choked with unshed tears, Izuku was desperately trying to ignore the tears in his mother's voice, neither one of them wanted to confront the elephant in the room. But, they couldn't ignore it for long.

"So, how... What's the foster carer like?" Inko asked in a choked voice. Izuku could practically hear the tears streaming down her face. He had to stay strong for her though, his crying would only make her worse, and he didn't want that. His mother depended on him.

"They're nice. The actual foster carer is called Aizawa, he was in foster care himself. His wife and their partner are both really nice as well. They've got a daughter too." Izuku gave his mother the bare minimum. He worried that if he sounded like he liked them too much she would draw her own (misguided) conclusions. She might assume that Izuku preferred them over her, despite the fact that he had just met them. That was the sort of thing his mother was prone to doing when she was intoxicated, and Izuku knew that she was. The subtle slur to her words spoke volumes.

"Partner?" Inko asked inquisitively.

"Mhm, they're polyamorous," Izuku explained concisely.

"Oh, their daughter must be very loved then," Inko sighed somewhat wistfully.

"Yeah... Mum, have they said anything about when I can come back?" Izuku asked hesitantly. He knew that it would no doubt set his mother off into a blubbering fit where she wept and cried, but he had to know. He had a foreboding feeling that he was not likely to hear the entire story. He was 'too young' after all.

"Oh, Izuku," Inko predictably sobbed, "They.. they said that they won't let you come back until I get a bit better. Until I stop drinking and seek some help for my mental health."

Izuku remained quiet for a moment, waiting for his mother to continue speaking. He was expecting her to reassure him that she would do everything within her power to make sure that he was back with her as soon as possible. She'd put down the bottle and seek help as soon as she could, but she didn't say anything else.

"Well, are you?" Izuku asked with an edge to his voice, "Are you going to stop drinking and get help?"

"Of course I am!" For the first time in a long time, Inko sounded genuinely affronted, angry. Sobriety slipped back into her tone, the force of her emotions seemingly flushing the alcohol out of her body.

"Well, you didn't say anything, and I know that you've struggled to quit drinking and get help in the past so..."

"I want you to come home, Izuku, but you must understand that it takes time for me to quit. You understand, right?"

Izuku's heart lurched and his mouth soured. She was using that tone of voice that she always used when she was trying to appeal to Izuku's sense of empathy. It was motherly, sweet, calm... and it aggravated Izuku to no end.

"Yes, I understand," Izuku tried his best to sound calm through clenched teeth, "I'm going to have to go now, Mum, but I'll call you soon, ok?"

"Oh, alright then, I love you," Inko said. She sounded defeated, world-weary, tired. It only made an odd sense of anger coil in Izuku's chest.

"I love you too, bye," Izuku ended the call scarcely a second after the words had left his lips.

Izuku felt violent. He didn't know what else to call the savage emotion raging in his chest, an emotion that made him taste blood on his tongue and his fists clench in the blanket beneath him. It happened, sometimes, when Izuku's emotions got too much for him and he wanted nothing more than to hit, bite and punch his way out of the blurry haze descending over his mind, but he was better than that.

A few calming breaths and he was better. That's not to say that the guilty bitterness he felt towards his mother had entirely disappeared, or the taste of blood on his tongue had abated, but he wasn't on the verge of biting into his own arm to satiate his urge anymore. He was as calm as he was going to get.

Izuku didn't want to be so annoyed and angry with his mother. He told himself again and again that it wasn't her fault. She had mental health issues, she was struggling, it wasn't her fault. But... who else was there to blame? His father? But he hadn't been the one to put the bottle in Inko's hand, she had done that herself. The doctor? But how would they know that Inko was an alcoholic when she hadn't told them? Izuku? Was he to blame? He was sure that the only reason that Inko was still alive was that she couldn't bring herself to leave Izuku an orphan. Maybe it was Izuku's fault that his mother had gotten this bad, in a twisted and convoluted way, maybe he was to blame.

All of the emotion left Izuku's body at once. What was the point? What was the point in working himself up into an anger-filled frenzy when it wouldn't achieve anything? Being angry at his mother wouldn't fix anything. He'd just have to push her harder to get the proper help necessary, and once he did that he could go home.

With the expulsion of all of his emotions, even the positive ones such as the relief he felt (very deep down) at hearing his mother's voice, Izuku was left an empty shell of a person. Only numbness permeated his brain, and Izuku hated it. Humans were supposed to feel things. No joy, no sadness, no anger, no fear, just nothing. Izuku wanted to feel something, and so he turned to an old coping mechanism.

Izuku knew that it wasn't healthy. He was aware enough to know that it was ultimately doing more harm than good, but if it made him feel something...

When Izuku was eleven, he picked up a blade, he cut himself more out of curiosity than anything. He'd seen the scars on the inside of his mother's wrists and wondered why she did it. Surely it couldn't bring any relief. Izuku hadn't cut the inside of his forearm, he'd cut on the outside, where the back of his hand transitioned into his boney wrist. The cut wasn't deep, it wasn't long, but it was enough to leave a tiny scar. You wouldn't know it was there unless you looked.

After that first time, Izuku had only done it a few more times, probably a maximum of five in total. Five imperceptible scars distributed between both of his arms. The sting was relieving in the moment, a distraction from the steadily worsening shitstorm around him. But he'd stopped cutting himself. He couldn't tell you why he'd stopped, not exactly. He just had. Maybe it was because he had found another way to momentarily bring feeling to his life.

Biting.

Izuku knew it wasn't healthy. Izuku knew he shouldn't. But he did. When he was twelve he started biting himself, he reasoned that he was less likely to get caught if he bit himself. After all, biting didn't leave a scar. Oince the indents of his teeth had faded away, there was no evidence. So whenever Izuku felt overwhelmed, numb or that rare but all too familiar feeling of overwhelming anger swirled around his mind, he bit himself. At school. At home. In the toilet at the Bakugo house. That trend of biting carried on for months until Izuku found a different outlet in the form of recklessly throwing all of his time and energy into studying and looking after his mother. But he didn't have that anymore. He couldn't look after his mother, so he turned back to his bad habit.

The junction of Izuku's arm felt soft against his face. The crease of his arm smelt very faintly of sweat. Izuku's heart started to speed up at the thought of biting himself, he couldn't contain the urge any longer. Like a drug addict running back to their drug, looking for their next high, Izuku bit down on the meat of his forearm. Hard.

He'd never broken skin, he was too scared to bite that hard, but he did bite hard enough for it to hurt. For his teeth to sink in. Hard enough for him to actually feel something aside from the hazy numbness. Pain and a sick sense of pleasure clouded Izuku's head.

After a few seconds, Izuku let his jaw relax and he pulled his arm from his mouth. A string of saliva connected the soft flesh to his mouth for a second before it was broken by Izuku's tongue. He admired the temporary mark left behind. A clear impression of his teeth was left behind. It was liberating, in a strange way. This was something that he had control over. He decided where and when these marks appeared on his body. It was gratifying. Of course, guilt would settle in soon enough. He'd feel terrible about what he had done, promising himself he'd never do it again, all the while knowing he had no intention of keeping his promise. It was a vicious cycle that Izuku found himself in, and he didn't know how to get out of it.

An hour later, there was a knock at Izuku's door. Izuku looked up from the book he had been reading and stared at the door for a second. He had every right to tell whoever was on the other side to go away and mind their own business, but he didn't want to. He liked the Aizawa household, he didn't want to upset anybody.

"Come in," Izuku called to the door quietly, he sat up and placed his book face down on the bed.

The door creaked open to reveal Aizawa. Despite Izuku thinking it impossible, Aizawa somehow managed to look even more tired and world-weary.

"Midoriya, Nemuri has arrived, she's Emi's girlfriend, you don't have to come down straight away, but we will be having dinner together, I just thought I would warn you," Aizawa said.

"OK, thank you for telling me," Izuku responded somewhat hesitantly. He didn't know what to say in response to Aizawa, he thought that if he didn't say anything he'd most likely sound rather rude.

Aizawa nodded once, eyes sweeping around the room before he turned his back and walked back into the hallway. The gentle snap of the door closing seemed to echo around the room.

Izuku had calmed from his bout of anger earlier, he hadn't yet started to regret his actions, and he wondered whether he would get away without feeling guilty this time. That was the good thing about biting himself, Izuku thought, the marks faded faster than his guilt could catch up to him. If there was no mark on his body as evidence, why should he feel guilty? At least that's how Izuku decided to justify his actions. He wasn't really hurting himself, there'd be no lasting damage on his body, it was fine.

Sometimes, Izuku couldn't help but wonder if he bit himself for attention, despite the fact he had never let anyone see his arms before the marks disappeared. There was a part of his mind that sneered that he didn't deserve to feel upset about his self-destructive habits, ironically, it was the same dark voice that encouraged him to bite himself. It was the devil on his shoulder.

Izuku sighed to himself and picked up his book to read once again, but after Aizawa's interruption and the resurgence of his negative thoughts (Izuku could see the crushing guilt swelling on the horizon of his mind), Izuku decided it would probably be best from him to be in the company of other people. Being around people usually quelled the raging dark thoughts that so desperately wished to overwhelm Izuku and pull him into the recesses of his own mind.

The sound of laughter and general joy greeted Izuku as he descended the stairs. He recognised two of the three voices as Hizashi and Emi but the third voice, a relatively deep but seductive feminine voice, was unfamiliar. Izuku assumed that the third person was Nemrui. His suspicions were confirmed when he reached the bottom of the stairs and beheld the sight of everyone in the house seated merrily in the lounge, wide smiles on their faces and mirth in their eyes. Izuku couldn't help but feel like he was intruding.

Nemuri was the first to notice Izuku's presence, her shockingly blue eyes swept around the room and landed on Izuku. A gentle smile pulled at her ruby-stained lips and her face mellowed slightly.

"This must be Midoriya. It's lovely to meet you," Nemuri smiled, she held out her hand for Izuku to shake. Izuku thought her hands looked quite intimidating. Her nails were painted blood red and all but two of them looked sharp enough to skewer Izuku. Nevertheless, Izuku took her surprisingly smooth hand into his own and gave it a hesitant shake.

"Nice to meet you too," Izuku muttered.

"Why don't you join us, Midoriya," Hizashi beamed at the youth, "We were just about to watch a film, we're still picking though,"

"I want to watch Tangled!" Eri demanded, though she could never sound bratty, she was too sweet for that.

"I want to watch Kubo and the Two Strings!" Hizashi copied his daughter's tone, he even crossed his arms and pouted in exaggeration.

"I want to watch Coco," Nemuri imputed smoothly.

"Nope! We've got to watch Shrek." Emi asserted firmly.

"You can't suggest that every time, Emi," Aizawa sighed, "I think we could all recite it from memory at this point. Anyway, we're watching Brother Bear. The best Disney film with one of the best soundtracks. I've been asking for a long time."

"What about you, Midoriya, what would you like to watch," Emi turned to Izuku, seemingly completely disregarding her husband's tired tone.

"Oh..." Izuku stuttered, he hadn't expected anyone to direct any attention towards him whilst they argued over what film to watch, he was quite content to fade into obscurity, "I don't mind. I'll watch pretty much anything."

"Just pick a random film off the top of your head, it could be anything." Nemuri persuaded him.

"Umm... How To Train Your Dragon." Izuku said the first film that came to mind. He loved the film, the soundtrack made his heart hammer with nostalgia, no matter how many times he watched the film, his breath was always stolen from his lungs when the scene of Toothless and Hiccup flying properly for the first time played.

"Good choice, Little Listener! But I stand by my vote of Kubo and the Two Strings."

In the end, they ended up watching Tangled. It seemed that nobody could say no to the wide puppy dog eyes of one Eri Aizawa.

Halfway through the film, when the jaunty tune of 'I've Got A Dream' filled the room with Eri and Hizashi humming and clapping along, Aizawa tapped Izuku on the shoulder and gestured for Izuku to follow him into the kitchen. Dread started to rise in Izuku's chest, but he quickly pushed it back down, he convinced himself that Aizawa didn't want to talk about anything serious. He probably only wanted to know whether Izuku had any food preferences.

As inconspicuous as possible, Izuku stood from the sofa and shuffled into the kitchen. He thought he felt Nemuri and Emi's curious looks upon his back, but he elected to ignore the feeling to the best of his ability. He would only needlessly work himself into an anxious tizzy.

"Midoriya, first of all, I want you to feel comfortable in this house. I know we're not your family, but please don't be afraid to refer to all of us by our given names," Shota said, with extra emphasis on the word all, "Secondly, I want you to know that you can speak to any one of us whenever you need. I'm already aware that you have some issues in social settings, and I understand the situation you're coming from. Whilst they may not be clear, cases of childhood neglect more often than not have an adverse effect on the mental health of the victim."

Izuku didn't like that word. Victim. If anybody was the victim, he thought it was his mum. She was a victim of poor mental health and substance abuse. Izuku was just a bystander. Shota was still talking, so Izuku tuned back in.

"Unhealthy outlets are easy to fall back on because they're accessible, but talking to somebody you trust, even if that person isn't me yet, is the best course of action. I want you to tell me if you are having thoughts about hurting yourself or others, do you understand, Midoriya?"

As he said this, Shota's eyes shot down to Izuku's arm. Exactly where he had bitten himself. Izuku had to restrain himself from bringing his hand up to cover the spot, there was no way that Shota could know.

"Yes, I understand. You can call me Izuku, seeing as we'll be living together," Izuku whispered.

"Ok, Izuku. You can go back and watch the film now, remember, you can ask any of us for help if you need it."

Izuku nodded mutely and shuffled back into the living room to sit with the others. He couldn't shake the eerie sense that Shota knew what he had done. That he'd somehow seen through Izuku's sleeve to the barely perceptible indents on his arm. Izuku tried to convince himself that there was no way that Shota could know, but the knowing look burned into Izuku's retinas said otherwise. 

Hopefully, I should have another chapter posted next week. 

Thank you for reading and I hope you have a wonderful day wherever you are.