Chapter Text
“Come on Deku, you can't be this terrified of a silly dark closet can you!” Bakugou laughs hysterically, as if Izuku’s fear of dark and cramped spaces was the peak of all comedy. It was a reasonable fear. At least in his own opinion. After all, this would be just another one of those times where he gets locked in a small, dark and almost completely unnoticeable storage closet hidden away in a part of his school that doesn't get much foot traffic. There is nothing here so there shouldn't be anything to be afraid of right?
He probably couldn't count how many times he’s been shoved in this closet to be forgotten until his upperclassmen open it when cleaning up at the end of the day. They aren't as brutal as the kids in his own grade so Izuku always voices his appreciation for them letting him out, he doubts anyone else would bother. He only whimpers slightly as he is tossed carelessly in the small space absent of much light, too used to Bakugou and his goon’s ministrations to give him much of a reaction anymore. As the door is slammed he hears the familiar sound of the lock being latched. Footsteps scurry down the hallway as they giggle and laugh at Izuku's unfortunate fate. He can feel the shadows closing in on him, swirling and winding their way around his throat making it impossible to make a noise.
He shouldn't be afraid of the dark, he's thirteen years old he should not be this scared of a dingy old dark closet. But he is, he is terrified. His skin itches with the absence of light, his hands are shaking as they attempt to reach for the handle in a pathetic attempt at hope. Maybe they forgot to lock it this time… they didn't. Shaking hands fall to his face wiping tears in their near endless streams as they leave his eyes. They don't deserve a reaction from him. They don't deserve to see him suffering so clearly, but he can't help it. The tears that run down his face, the shaking and hitched breaths he takes as his eyes roam around in the dark space searching for any light at all. He won’t find any.
—------------------
Izuku follows Katsuki silently. After his upperclassmen let him out only an hour after classes ended, he started making his journey back to his empty, loveless house that couldn't be considered a home anymore. It wasn't the same as it used to be. Before middle school there would be laughter almost constantly at home, joking about something funny one of them had seen on the tv or an interesting hero fight Izuku witnessed on his way to school, but not anymore. Because Inko is gone. Most of the time when Izuku gets home from school he is met with a silent house and a small envelope of cash for groceries on Fridays. That is exactly what he was met with today. In a house void of any personality there lies a white envelope opened to contain a few thousand yen, should be enough for food for the weekend. Inko usually comes back after being gone for three days, Izuku can only make assumptions about where she goes for so long because she hasn't once told him when asked.
He only lightly flinches when suddenly a hand clasps his shoulder. It's Bakugou, of course it is. Who else would it be? Getting stopped on his way home by him is always worse than at school. No one to witness, no one to call for help if Bakugou finally goes too far. Would anyone call for help? Izuku doubts it. They never have. Heads turned, choosing to stay in ignorance. Why would anyone help him in the first place? It's not like he’ll ever contribute much if anything to society. He’s quirkless so he can't be a hero. And he is quirkless so he is not competent enough to save lives any other way by being a doctor or a nurse anyway.
He was deemed useless by society, by his only friend. His own mother knew he could never be important enough to save a life, he was completely useless, which is why he quietly relented to Bakugou’s hold on him and let himself get shoved along wherever he was going. It was apparently Izuku’s house, or more specifically an old tool or work shed next to his house that his mother never used except for a few months after he was diagnosed when she planted a few flowers until they suddenly died and she couldn't get anymore to stay alive. Elbows hit his spine. He is pushed repeatedly by hands from behind him but he only stumbles slightly due to the lack of usual feet scuffing his heels as he walks. He catches a foot in his path too late and just barely avoids breaking his nose on the pavement. “Damn Deku! You're slowing us down, we have something important to show you.” A particularly dark glint in Bakugou’s eyes gave Izuku the idea that this was not going to be fun.
The back of his head hits the chipped and splintering wooden planks that make up the door of the shed with a thunk his back is shoved against it. A latch is undone beside him. As the door to the side of him is shoved open he is tossed inside the neglected web and dust filled shed. “Hope you like spiders Deku.” The mocking voice quips as one of his cackling lackeys shuts the door banishing him to endure the agony that is the dark for the second time today.
It should be brighter here than it is, Izuku soon realizes. With how chipped and warped the planks that make up the walls and doors are there should be at least small streaks of light peeking through, but there is only pitch black. He scrambles on the floor to return to a standing position at that thought. He turns rapidly around the room in search of any miniscule beam of afternoon light he could find. There was none.
With quick shallow breathing, he returns to the floor in an attempt to calm himself so he may take stock of the situation. He has his school bag, containing his phone which should have an hour or two of remaining battery, as well as his homework for the weekend. His mom won't be home for a few days as she usually does so he doesn't have to risk worrying her with his late return from school. Trembling hands pull his phone from the front pocket of his bag. As his finger presses the on button he sighs in quiet relief that the battery life is more than expected and should last long enough for him to find a reliable way out of the rickety structure without it collapsing on him.
He turns on the flashlight, eyes roaming wall to wall. His eyes land on a shovel with a spade shaped head, he could probably use that to pry planks apart. With how old and weathered the wood is he hopes they will break easier than the equally old shovel not being used for its intended purpose.
Taking his phone light with him he walks to the wall with the tool and picks it up to test its durability. Izuku takes the handle between his two hands and adds a bit of pressure, the handle does not relent. He then searches for loose boards, pressing his palms against various boards on the walls looking for one to wobble or creak. One of the boards on the wall opposite to the doors gives slightly under the force and when removed the nail fixing it to the wall falls to the ground with a small thunk. Given how the nails from the wood are basically disintegrating into dust at the faintest touch he should be able to pry enough to make a space for him to escape from. Before starting to work on his escape he checks the time on his phone screen. It's been about 45 minutes including the time he spent on the floor quietly panicking.
Izuku shoves the pointed head of the tool in a small crevasse between two planks and pulls down with as much of his weight as possible. Two planks give under the force and the remaining evening light floods the decrepit shed. He lets out a sigh of relief thankful for the freedom from the pitch black, and coughs at the sudden abundance of dust from the old wood being released. As he rushes to his bag he comes to the realization that he might end up stuck in here again at some point in the future. His best option to get out of here as quickly as possible the next time would be the two missing planks. He squeezes his scrawny self out of the shed through the missing planks not caring about the undoubtedly large amount of dirt and dust now covering his sleeves. The planks are placed meticulously back into their spots, he scratches an indent into one of them so he can find them easier next time he needs them. Glowing red eyes follow his careful movements as he walks to his front door, not that he notices them.