{~Deku one-shots with angst~}

A Transient Life (A Perrenial Place in my Heart)

She is just a child. 

And so is he. 

With his death, he will bring her suffering too; Izuku cannot even place the sadness and anger on someone with hurtful intents, cannot say that the person was cruel- the child who causes his end was as innocent as he is. 

The tears run, and Izuku doesn't know if they'll able to stop again; doesn't know if there's anything that could soothe the crackling, heart-wrenching sadness in his heart. 

Midoriya cannot help it- cannot help but mourn the things that will never happen, the time that he has lost even though he doesn't even have it yet. He mourns for the people he has grown to love and that he will separate from them. He mourns for the wishes he knows won't come true. He mourns for the journey he has come so far, knowing that the goal is as far as the horizon stretches, and nothing will ever get him closer. 

He mourns for the small things, the large things. 

But moreover, he mourns for the hope still lodged in his mind; the denial, the confusion, the desperation to just see the day where he can make his life worth it. 

(Has it already come without him even knowing? Perhaps, it has, and the day has come in the form of him as he is right now, the gift in a broken box). 

Izuku sobs. He sobs, because the pain coursing through his breaths remind him he is still human, still alive (it soothes the fear in him, just a little, knowing that his dying moment isn't right now, and not the moment right after. That he still has time, even though his tears remind him: not for very long.)

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3. Matriarch to a Martyr

Strangers. 

Doctors and nurses, with their white, neutral clothing, walked past Izuku, occassionally checking on him but they were all just a blur in Izuku's peripheral vision. Time was an illusion- a treasured, mourned illusion- in the state of his end; it could've been a minute, an hour, or a day since Recovery Girl had helped Midoriya sit up- a torterous pressure weighing down his limbs, a vicious sizzling of his nerves- and gone to talk to his visitors but he couldn't tell. He didn't want to see anyone. Didn't want anyone to find him breaking at the seams, tearing apart the last shreds of hope in a blood-stained casket of white. 

No one could save him this time. 

"Izuku?" a small voice spoke, and the voice was made of fragile fractures. Midoriya's eyes watered as he refused to meet his mother's eyes, staring holes into the blank, sterile sheets of his bed. "Izuku, my love." his mother cried, collapsing into the chair beside him, and placing a gentle, warm hand on top of his own. "Please tell me it isn't true." 

Midoriya couldn't speak, the words right there on the edge of his tongue, but if he said, if he said those three words that have chained him to eternal sleep, then he wouldn't be able to hide in denial. 

He'd have to accept that all he's worked for- those bonds he formed from blood, those hardships he had to survive through at the sacrifices of his innocence, those strides towards the dreams he'd breathed and sung for his whole damn life- amounted to nothing in the finale. 

Nothing mattered anymore. 

"Izuku." his mum called again, and Midoriya finally let his viridian eyes meet her own. "It's going to be alright." Inko whispered, and the confidence, the trust she put into hope, screamed loud in the silent, solemn room. Tears rushed to break free from his eyes once again, and Izuku felt his breath hitch- even the air stung like a million bees, as if his middle-school classmates had been right, that he truly hadn't deserved to live- as he struggled to lift his arms up and embrace his mother in his arms.