Shouto sat in his room, seemingly staring at absolutely nothing. He was embarrassed. But even so, he was scared.
The events of yesterday kept passing through his head.
Flashback
Shouto woke up in Aizawa's car. "What happened?" He asked, his voice groggy from just waking up.
"The problem children called me. Told me you ran away after you saw the news. I tracked you, and found you having a panic attack."
"News?-" Then, it all came rushing back to him. The news. The abuse. Endeavor's trial.
"Woah, calm down kid. Don't want you having another panic attack."
Shouto lowered his head, ashamed. The drive was quiet for a while, before something Aizawa said resurfaced in Shouto's mind.
"Wait, did you say 'tracked'?"
"Come on, you really thought I'd trust you, you may I remind, that went to stop a hero killing maniac without pros, to go with the rest of the problem children? I really expected more from the one of the top 5 in class 1-A." Aizawa answered.
"Is that why you asked for my phone?" Shouto questioned.
Aizawa didn't reply, but Shouto already knew the answer.
"Huh, that's an invasion of privacy." Shouto rolled his eyes.
"There is no such thing as privacy when it comes down to you and the problem children, especially when you all are alone. The last time I left you all unattended, you almost died trying to save the most independent person I've ever met. I'm surprised he even agreed to you all helping him."
Shouto smiled a bit.
Flashback over
Smiling was now the last thing Shouto was doing. He was guessing that what his dad did to him was still all over the news. The keyword 'guessing' because for the past week, he completely ignored all social media.
He did not need to see his dad's hideous face plastered next to a news article that he knew would say something like, 'Endeavor being falsely accused of abuse!'
As if they knew anything about what Endeavor did. They only know him by the fake mask he plastered on when out in the public. Not that the mask hid his dad's ugly nature well, he was still a dick to almost everyone he met.
Shouto started pulling at his hair frustratedly. A habit he picked up on quite a long time ago.
"Calm down. Uh, what to do..." Shouto mumbled, trying to think of any other way to release his stress.
Something then caught Shouto's eye.
His journal.
Aizawa had bought Shouto a journal when he first moved in. Shouto hadn't used it much, but whenever he was thinking of harming himself, or anything to do with suicide, he wrote down his feelings in it. He knew it was weak, and that Endeavor would beat him to hell and back if he ever found out, but Aizawa stated that it would be a good way to help deal with everything. Whenever he used it, shame always filled his being. He hated that he actually felt relieved once he had written everything down.
Shouto walked over to it, picking it up and plopping himself down on his desk chair.
Most of the time when he wrote in the journal, he's too panicked to see what he was writing. He just wrote and wrote and wrote until his hand felt like it was about to break. Then he went to sleep and completely forgot what he had written.
Shouto had only used it twice, but 10 pages were already filled with his messy handwriting. He never bothered to read what his pathetic past self wrote, too embarrassed and remorseful to realize how close he was to the edge.
For ounce, Shouto wasn't as shamed about writing in the journal. He would definitely regret this later, but he used his confidence to his advantage and opened the first written page.
___
February 11th, 2021
I want to cut. That's probably not good. But my arm stings with the need of something to relieve myself. Aizawa said it's not good to cut, but if I can't cut, what do I do? How do I rid myself of this disgusting feeling? Maybe just one cut. It wouldn't make a difference. I've cut multiple times before, this one isn't going to be any different, right? But I don't want to burden Aizawa. I've probably already pushed past my limit with the amount of weakness I've displayed. How long will it take before he finally has had enough of me, and just sends me right back to my father? Then what will happen? Surely I'll have a good beating. Then I'll be locked up. Maybe until my stomach devours me whole. Will my father actually be willing to kill me? I wouldn't put it past him, that's for sure. This is weak. I shouldn't be writing in this. It's weak to be feeling these things. But what else should I be feeling? Surely happiness isn't justified right now. I've been wearing a mask for so long, I can't even tell who I am anymore.
Who is Shouto Todoroki?
___
Shouto processes what was written. This was back when Aizawa had just brought him into his house. Shouto was still apprehensive. He didn't let himself be comfortable enough to show any weakness around them, afraid they'd end up like his father.
He knows better know.
Shouto took a deep breath, before flipping to the next page. This one was much longer. It took 9 pages. Shouto eyes almost fell out of his head once he saw it.
'What the fuck.'
___
March 5th, 2021
I don't understand. I was doing better. I was happy. At least as happy as I can possibly be, but definitely happier than I have been in a long time. Why do I feel like this now? I want to cut, so badly. But not just cut. I want to feel the stinging sensation of the blade gliding across my arm, pushing closer and closer until I reach the end as my life completely drains out of me. I want to be released. Released from this cruel world. Why can't I be released? I want it all to end. I want to die. I want to feel pain. I want to feel anything. Anything other than this mind numbly feeling of absolutely fucking nothing. But Aizawa would be disappointed. I don't want him to be disappointed. And what about Hizashi? How would he feel? Would they even care? Or would they laugh, finally happy that I left them alone. Do they want me to die? They can't. They're the only thing that keeps me from ripping open my flesh and watch the oozing crimson blood seep out of me. If they don't want me here, what else do I have to live for? I guess I have my friends. And Fuyumi, Natsuo, Mom. But I only burdened them. Do they all want me to leave? They seem to do just fine without me, so why am I still here? Why do I just keep lifelessly roaming around, breathing pointless air? I'm wasting oxygen. I'm wasting space. And now that I think about it, I'm the reason some people are dying right now. Because I put my father behind bars. He may have caused nothing but pain to me, but he saved others. He gave them life. Well, more like stopped their life from ending early. But all in all, he saved people. And now, I'm the reason he can't anymore. I'm the reason for my family's suffering. I'm the reason my class is so far behind. They could be exceeding without me. There's no place for me here. But I keep trying. Like I'm trying to make a place for myself. I feel like a dead flower. The petals falling off me. The petals being everything that keeps me alive. The more that fall, the more pointless I feel. Like I'm a dying flower, in a field of beautiful, blossoming flowers. Some people say, that If you didn't have a good today, then lookup for tomorrow. But why should I look up for tomorrow, if tomorrow is just gonna be another today? Yesterday was a today. Today is gonna be a yesterday. Tomorrow is gonna be a today. It's all the same. A never-ending cycle. So what's the point in trying? What's the point in getting up? What's the point of trying to fight your way out of the water, only for a wave to come and simply push you back down?
It's like quicksand. The more you try to fight your way out of it, the faster you sink. So why try to fight your way out at all? You just lie, hopelessly, accepting your fate as you sink further and further, until getting out isn't even an option anymore.
___
Shouto dropped the journal. It landed, the page he was on facing upward. Tears slowly traveled down his face.
He didn't remember this. He didn't remember writing this at all.
The longer he spent, trying to remember when this happened, the farther it seemed to slip from his memory. Why can't he remember it?
Shouto's shallow breaths could be heard. His head was pounding, and he felt his throat closing up.
"Shouto. Are you alright?" Aizawa asked, making himself known. He was standing right in front of where Shouto dropped his journal. Said journal, in his hand.
Shouto's mind seemed to completely detach from reality.
'Aizawa.
Journal.
Aizawa has the journal'
Fear coursed through his veins as the details of his thoughts finally clicked.
But even so, when trying to sprint and snatch the journal, Shouto's body came to a complete halt. Like his body just completely shut down. He tried to get his brain to reconnect with his body.
'Get the journal back. Fucking hurry.'
But he couldn't move. Tears ran down his face at his useless attempts.
It was already too late.
Aizawa read the page. Maybe he didn't mean to. Like he started reading, and couldn't stop afterward, but Shouto couldn't help the betrayed feeling that stung at his heart.
"Shouto-" Aizawa started, not even able to finish before being cut off.
"Out," Shouto said, tears flowing down his face. "Get out, now."
Aizawa was about to open his mouth to protest before Shouto stopping him.
"Get out!" Shouto yelled, falling to his knees in agony. "Please," he mumbled. It was barely above a whisper, but the silence of the room compelled it to seem as though it echoed through the room.
Aizawa complied, placing the journal neatly on Shouto's desk, before leaving and keeping the door opened a little so he can still see Shouto.
Shouto fell to the floor, curling up on himself. Sobs tore out his throat.
He felt as though all his progress just went down the drain. Everything he did to try and feel normal just vanished.
He lied on the floor for 20 minutes. The first 10 used to let out all his tears, pain, and grief. The last 10 were used for silence. Doing absolutely nothing.
He finally stood up, going to his desk with droopy eyes.
Maybe this was weak, maybe this was pathetic, maybe this was senseless, but he doesn't care.
___
March 28th, 2021
I think I messed up.
...
『✰❦✰』
Aizawa walked away from Shouto's room, cursing himself.
He fucked up. He definitely fucked up.
He knew he shouldn't have read Shouto's journal. He didn't mean to look down, but once he caught a glimpse of it, his eyes refused to leave it. [ Ya know, when you start to read something really private that you shouldn't be reading, and you try to look away but you just can't? Basically like that. Curiosity really kills people, lmao ]
Aizawa rubbed his temple with his thumb and index as he let out a long, and frustrated sigh. He opened the door to his and Hizashi's room, closing it shut behind him.
"Sho? What happened?" Hizashi asked, already sensing the pissed-off aura his husband had.
"I fucked up Hizashi. I fucked up real bad."
Words: 2021 (2021 lmao-)
The title is based on the song "Trauma", by NF.
Did I miss last week's chapter (again)? Yes.
Do I have an excuse? Also yes.
I went on vacation and I couldn't bring my computer. And I sure as hell wasn't going to use my phone to write. It's too uncomfortable and autocorrect be changing fucking to ducking and shit like that.
Anyways, yeah. This chapter was supposed to be something completely different. Not exactly sure how, *points to the text*, that, happened but oh well. I literally had a full Idea ready for this page and then I went 100% off-topic.
See y'all next week, (hopefully if my dumbass can actually do work on time)
Have an amazing Morning/Afternoon/Night!
Love you all, byee!
✰__startover✰