Perhaps a Better Place [A Dadzawa Story]

Levels: Chapter 1

I hear sobbing in the next room over, my mother's room, and at this point in my life, I don't even react. Because why bother, right?

That's normal, and so is laying restless in my bed, and so is every other shitty thing.

As the cries continue, my patience wears thin, and I get out of bed. I don't leave my room to talk to my mother, because it'll end the same way it always does. Her yelling at me for ruining her life, how she wishes she was never a mother, blaming me for all the shitty things that have happened in my 16 years of living.

Instead, I grab my school bag and place my school uniform in it, along with some necessities, like my phone and charger, headphones, sketchbook and pencils, and any books that I'm currently reading. I shove in my hairbrush, deodorant, my toothbrush, and toothpaste as well, because hygiene is a thing.

I pull on a large hoodie over my oversized t-shirt. The hoodie has a few small holes here and there, but I could care less.

I slip noiselessly out of my window, onto the fire escape. It's currently 12 AM and the night is eerie, but I ignore it and ascend to the rooftop.

Our crappy apartment complex is 9-stories tall, and I can see a lot from up here. Big buildings, small buildings, all the intense lighting. It usually gives me a headache, but tonight, I welcome the assault to my eyes.

I sit in the middle of the rooftop, pulling one of my books from my bag, along with a book light that I can clip to the cover. The light is a dim red and soft on the eyes.

***

It's been a while. I pull out my phone, which is still pretty much fully charged, and check the time. It's 2:17 in the morning.

"Hey."

I jump at the sudden voice, which is low and gruff, and snap my head to look behind me and cringe at the quick movement.

I wasn't expecting to see someone I knew.

"Mr. Aizawa?" I ask, closing my book after I mark the page. "Haven't seen you in a hot minute."

He pauses for a second, then reaches a hand up and pulls down his goggles, squinting at me before partially rolling his eyes.

"Hey," he grumbles, taking a few steps closer.

"What are you doing out so late?" I ask, even though it should be obvious. But it's late. I'm tired.

"Patrolling," he answers flatly. Surprisingly, he takes a seat next to me, on the other side of my backpack. "What are you doing out so late, (L/N)?"

I hold up my book, showing him the cover. "I couldn't sleep, so I came up here to read."

He gently takes the book from my hand, looking it over. "What's it about?"

"This family moves into a house, turns out the house has a bunch of portals that lead to random major events in time. World War II, the sinking of the Titanic, even Atlantis, just to name a few. That's the last book in the series, and I'm kinda sad I'm almost finished with it."

"Sounds cool," dare I say he sounds genuinely interested, "how long have you been up here?"

"Almost two and a half hours. Gotta appreciate the grind. You catch any ne'er-do-wells yet?"

He scoffs lightly, "One or two. Did you finish your homework?"

"Totally."

He looks at me with doubtful eyes and I smile nervously.