Work Text:
“Look at me.”
“ Deku. ”
“ LOOK AT ME .”
Izuku rolled onto his side, eyes still squeezed shut.
Ever since inheriting One for all, He had seen him, Heard his cries of anguish, with no way to stop them.
“Deku…”
Izuku knew it was his fault, He should have moved. If he hadn't been such a little bitch, He would still be alive.
He had started going to therapy, tried to accept what had happened, tried to get better. But there was no use. Every night he dreamed about what he could've done. Sobbed, knowing what happened was his fault.
He knew if he had just taken a few steps forward, if he had called for help, if he had done anything. Kacchan would still be alive. But he wasn't, because instead of doing anything Izuku had stood there.
He had watched, unmoving as Kacchans mouth was stuffed full of green oozing slime.
He had watched, as his jaw was torn off, unable to handle the stretch.
He had watched, as the villain ripped out Kacchans eyes, replacing them with his own.
He had watched, as blood poured from his face. He didn’t scream, he didn't run, he didn't do anything . And now he was gone.
Izuku let a tear roll down his face.
“Deku.”
He sounded so wrong. He couldn’t form his words properly, he spoke slow and his voice was gravelly. It was as if it pained him to speak.
“Yes, kacchan?”
When he didn't reply, Izuku rolled back over, opening his eyes.
Kacchan stood, unmoving in the corner of the room. His eye sockets wide, and face pointed right at Izuku. His mouth was open. It always was. He knew Kacchan was trying to speak but couldn’t.
There was a constant low grumble coming from his throat and his jaw twitched unsettlingly.
After a few minutes of Kacchan gurgling out strings of incoherent sentences, Izuku fell asleep.
He usually dreamt of the day Kacchan died. Forced to stand still as he watched the life drain from his body, over, and over, and over.
But tonight was different.
In his dream, he saw Kacchan looking at him, but it wasn’t a Kacchan he recognised.
This Kacchan was tall, he looked as if he were in his early thirties. He was all muscle, with scars littering his arms and face. He was wearing a hero costume, similar to the one Izuku had designed in one of his notebooks. And he stood tall, looming over Izuku, dripping with a vulgar hatred.
“K-kac-”
“Shut up.” said the dream Kacchan.
“This, is what you’ve taken from me.” He gestured to himself.
“ This is what I was supposed to be. THIS is who I was supposed to BE.” His voice was a low growl, forced out through pure rage.
“I was meant to be something. To make a change in the world,"- he scoffed miserably -"I was going to be the best hero there ever was. And you took my place. Ripped it out from under me. You may think that I have gone. That it was for the best that I left your world. But I refuse. I do not care t hat I am in the doorway, I will not walk through it. I will not, Die. You aren't getting rid of me.” His face began to flicker, Bones breaching through his skin, revealing the ugly mess that was hiding behind his facade of composure.
“ Deku.”
“Like some worthless little understudy, you stole my place in this world, you stand in the spotlight that was I was made to revel in. You dare, to mourn me after stealing my life away, you dare to cry, whilst standing on my stage. ” He spat out each word, with a hatred so pure it made Izuku's eyes water.
Kacchan began to shrink. His scars fading away, along with the vengeful life that once filled his eyes.
“But I refuse to be like the audience. When the crowd stands and claps for your false victory, I will be there. And trust me when I say this. You Will inevitably fall, crushed under the pressure of what was meant to be my life. And I will be watching. Sat in the seat you forced me into, and I will make sure that it's in the front row.”
With that, Izuku jolted awake, tears dripping down his face in hot salty streams.
He looked around franticly, But Kacchan wasn't there.