3 | Memories

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This story is not intended to promote or encourage actions/behaviors such as suicide, self-harm, or abuse.

Izuku Todoroki

"Papa?" Izuku rolled his pupils from his laptop to his daughter. "Do you know when Dad's coming back yet?"

It had been six months since Shoto marched forth into his line of duty, but the heterochromatic man had yet to return.

For a moment, Izuku stared at the screen of his laptop as if to read what he had written for the novel he was working on. "Not yet. I'm sure...it'll be soon. He's working hard." Although his routines had adjusted to the absence of his husband, he still could not fully adjust to the fact that Shoto had seemingly vanished from his life.

Izuku could recall the dead stare that greeted him upon opening his front door to his returning boyfriend. Yet, Shoto had embraced Izuku of his own volition, and the two simply ensconced each other into a halcyon paradise of palpable affection. Regardless of the enrapturing moment, however, the perpetuated image of Shoto's vacant eyes had been burned into his memory.

"Has Dad ever smiled?" Rina questioned, but a vice tore into Izuku's chest at the notion that the question had been roused in the first place.

Blinking slovenly in thought, Izuku drifted through his memories in an endeavor to locate the most recent recollection of his husband's pictorial smile. "Um... Oh, that's right. I think it was our wedding anniversary last year. Well, that's at least the last one I remember. Um... " He scratched the back of his neck a bit.

"How come he never smiles?"

With a sigh, Izuku set his reading glasses down on his desk. "You'd have to ask him, but part of the reason why is because of his personality. It's also how he was raised." His gaze drifted as residual sympathy gripped his chest.

"Yes, I'm certain," Izuku replied to his betrothed after having placated the latter's panic attack; Izuku had accidentally dropped a glass, and the instant that the glass shattered on the floor, Shoto's behavior flicked like a lightswitch before insidiously boiling into a panic attack. "I want to hear it all, Shoto. As long as you're comfortable with telling me, I want to hear about your feelings and your past."

Although it was axiomatic to Izuku that Shoto spurned the idea of discussing either of the topics, Shoto still nodded and exhaled deeply. "I guess I can't keep it to myself forever. If anyone's to know about it from me, I'd want you to be that person. Izuku, my father abused me. At first, he trained me from a young age to prepare me for the military, but as I got a bit older, I realized that I didn't want to choose that path, and that he shouldn't have the ability to force me into the military at all. So, he beat me. 'I'm not beating you. I'm beating the nonsense and disrespect out of you.' But...he started to abuse my mom as well for siding with me and defending me. He usually beat me with broken bottles, but it was different the day my mom died.

"One day, I heard my parents arguing, and suddenly, the sound of glass shattering. I think they were arguing about me. Their shouting peaked before dying out. The front door slammed shut. I left my room and saw my mom on the kitchen floor with shards of glass and splatters of blood strewn across it. But as I ran up to her...I saw her cutting herself with the glass. I didn't know what to do. She told me—her unbearable son—not to help her. So...I didn't. I always obeyed her. I sat beside her and watched silently. I could tell she was in a lot of physical and emotional pain. Her blood was so vivid but such a deep shade of red. I told her to stop before it was too late, but before I knew it, I was staring at her lifeless body. I'd watched her cut until she bled out. The crimson-tinged shard of glass rested between her fingers on the floor. Her eyes were open but not alive. I didn't feel anything over it. She looked at peace. Finally...

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