Chapter Text
Leaning against the seat, Izuku tiredly gazes out of the glazed car window. They’re passing a forest now, chunks of agriculture blooming into faux-scarecrows of weeds, the trees mysterious and looming as they shift into forms of despicable creatures that plagued Izuku’s nightmares.
He turns his head away, no longer wanting to survey his surroundings. It sets his nerves on fire even more when he’s not looking through the window; he feels eyes lingering on him, feels uncertain of entering an unfamiliar place that may as well be the death of him.
He feels unwelcome here.
”Are you sure we really have to move here?” He asks hesitantly, his voice trailing off as he locks his eyes on his mother’s figure; he can only glimpse the back of her head, but her shoulders are relaxed as she hums the tune of a favourite song of hers. She’s as calm as ever, which is unexpected considering his mother is as anxious as him, but maybe she received a positive account of this place and decided to give it a chance.
Izuku’s not sure how she can be so carefree when they’re entering an area that looks like it could be the setting of a horror movie, and he’s envious she’s not taking this sudden adjustment as bad as he is.
”Izu, honey, it’s not as bad as you think it is. Give it a chance, baby. Maybe you’ll make some friends?” She simpers, smiling at him through the mirror. She slows down and reverses, glancing out her window to ensure she doesn’t accidentally hit an animal or a person.
Izuku sighs and keeps quiet. He doesn’t like arguing with his mom, and maybe she’s right; maybe he’s overthinking things.
Still, his stomach plummets when she joyfully announces that they have arrived. She unbuckles her seatbelt and jumps out of the car, ushering him to do the same.
Izuku closes the door behind him when he steps out, and takes in the scenery around him. They’re parked in front of a desolate house, it looks decent but he’s worried about the interior (his mother may be in danger if it collapses). There are a couple more houses lined up with his along the dark street, the streetlamps the only source for light.
This place is like a ghost town; there’s no noise whatsoever, and it’s so eerily barren that he wouldn’t be surprised if they were the only living people there.
He checks up on his mother; she’s checking their luggage. “I’ll carry it,” he proposes and grasps both of their suitcases in his hands, waiting for his mother to open the door as he stands on the freshly cut lawn.
”Thank you, honey.” She searches through her keys until she finds the right one, small and a rusty silver, and slots it in the keyhole, turning it and unlocking the door. She steps inside. He follows. “Your grandmother used to live here. It’s a shame you weren’t able to see her, she was very sweet.” She locks the door behind them.
”Why in this particular town?” He asks, setting the luggage down so he can check out the interior of the decrepit house. It’s small, dusty, with a kitchen and a living room conjoined together, and some stairs drifting upwards. The bedrooms must be located there. There are some other hallways that probably hide other rooms, but Izuku decides he’ll explore tomorrow. For now, he just wants to rest.
”She said it was special, from what I can remember.” His mother checks through her shoulder bag for something, before snapping it shut and shaking her head lightly. “It’s nothing to worry about, though, Izuku, so why don’t you go choose a bedroom and try to get some sleep? We can begin cleaning tomorrow.” She hikes up her own suitcase and ascends the stairs, Izuku follows suit.
Maybe he shouldn’t pry... It could be a sensitive subject, after all.
”Sure...” He dejectedly agrees, watching the small figure of his mother. She’s mumbling something under her breath, but it’s too low for him to discern.
His mother disappears in one of the rooms, claiming it as hers, and he scrutinises each room he finds. Finally, he comes across a fairly large room with a desk, a chair, a bed, a wardrobe and a large bookcase. He can’t wait to go through the books, maybe there’s something interesting in them.
The walls of the room are a dull blue shade, and the floor is carpeted. He sets his suitcase down and goes to open the creaking window. It gets stuck about halfway, and his hands are covered in dust when he lets go of the window, the moonlight casting its dusk over his room as he wipes his palms on his pants. He hasn't checked the bathroom yet but he’s too tired to investigate.
There’ll always be tomorrow.
As he crashes on the soft bed, he stares at the ceiling. There are cobwebs decorating the corners and he swears he sees parts of it cracking.
He closes his eyes, trying to lull himself to sleep.
Before he fully submits to the comforting lullaby of slumber, mismatched eyes flash darkly against the blankness behind his eyelids. He can’t put a face to those eyes— they disappear as quickly as he sees them, and he opens his eyes in misplaced fear and confusion.
What was that just now? He’s sure there’s nobody else in this house; why would they be residing? And if it was a neighbour, how were they able to sneak into this house?
It doesn’t make sense. What if there really was somebody in this house? What if they hurt his mother? Izuku should have persuaded her to stay at their old town; it was nice and cosy and their house was secure.
He scrunches his eyes closed. Whatever it was, it was probably his imagination. It was probably just an afterimage of a scary story he read last night, maybe it was from that game he played a couple of days ago. It’s all just a conjuration of something fictional to embed terror into his veins and prevent him from sleeping peacefully.
He hopes so, at least.