Hello. I'm pretty burnt out with school and stuff (to whoever invented math, I will haunt you the day I die) and I'm probably not gonna post next week. Other than school I have reading to do since I've been studying a few authors to help my writing. Im also doing a bit of drawing and working on another story. Head hurts and yeah.
Anyways I'm sorry for dumping my problems on ya. Enjoy the chapter :)
Also, sorry for late post.
[Unedited]
He had a few broken bones, nothing too extreme and nothing that couldn't be cured. However, that didn't really bother Shoto, nor did the thought of his whole Hero Career shattering before him like rose petals on a windy day.
What bothered him was the fact he was seen in a way he didn't expect people to see. Once Shoto had regained consciousness, everybody looked at him with trembled bodies and widened eyes.
No one looked at him in shame, no one looked at him in disappointment. He even remembered the hitching of the nurse's breath when he flinched to fix his posture as they tried to fix his IV.
Even when he did something normal, like shuffling and moving with groans of pain, everyone was always on alert. As if at any moment he was going to attack. Widened eyes on him as police guards surrounded him like hawks; as if he was merely the feral animal in the circus yet to be put in the cage.
Something about that made him tremble at his own presence. Like a child too scared for the punishment they were about to face for stealing candy from the candy jar, but different. As if his own shadow that stared under him made him jump under his skin.
It was such sickening nostalgia. One that made him want to burn it all and throw the ashes to the river, never to be seen again.
Therapists and psychologists talked to him with worried glances and stiff fingers as their grip tightened, the sweat accumulating onto the pen.
When they would ask him questions, he would answer truthfully. And his voice was always calm and monotonous, even when it shouldn't have been. Once doctors had left, already finished checking his damaged bones, he would sit in the darkness of the sky with the police guards watching him.
Those were the times where he would pretend that the police and security standing there were just a figment of his imagination; his eyes darting from the dark nook where they stood to out the window, where he would politely ask the nurses to keep in view.
And as the autumn leaves fell from the trees—-waving the branches goodbye and kissing the cold cement hello, he would wonder if this was going to work. If the art he had so perfectly designed in his head was going to work out with real people. With real humans that weren't controlled by strings.
Shoto wondered if the dying and reliving, the pain and relief, the on and the off were really something he should be grateful he did in the first place. But the more he thought about it, the more obvious the answer became.
Touya Todoroki would never accept the coldness Shoto had onto his burns without his burns feasting on Shoto's flesh. It was kind of crazy, the thought of having to go through all of that in order to get the world he had desired.
A world where the moon kissed the world goodbye as it forever went to sleep, the sun and stars dancing on top of the sky, singing in joy because the darkness that would once take their spot would no longer have to.
That thought hushed him to sleep, the small little stars and the huge big sun danced around him the same way a crib mobile would in hopes that the moon would forever go to sleep the same way Izuku was.
And even though there were officers with him almost all the time, he would laugh like no one was watching, cuddling up with the only thin blanket he had ever so carefully so that he wouldn't hurt himself.
Man...Izuku is so strong. So powerful. So beautiful.
The thought of Izuku having so much strength put him at ease. Because if he had someone like him, who would be against them?
No one.
Though, sometimes his shadow would scare him, and so would the reflection of the clean window, he had to remind himself that it was ok. There was nothing to worry about. There was nothing to fear.
That scar was with him for fifteen years. It would be foolish for him to want to run away from it now. Why? Because he should've been able to grow used to it. Yet, as foolish as it seemed, he couldn't.
It weirded him out too. Don't worry.
***
Silence was a factor Katsuki enjoyed in times where his thoughts relished on mind and flesh alike. Yet, lately it seemed to be that his body was the only feast served for his buddies in times where nothing was to be heard.
And boy how he despised that.
Loving what they hate? That was something that made his teeth clench and his heartbeat a little faster. Because in the midst of tranquility—-when the sun would slowly set perfectly to where Katsuki's face would warm up at it's presence, was when his buddies thought:
Hey, I don't...like this.
Me too. Where's the fun? The adrenaline?
The laughter in seeing our owner wanting to jump out of his own body?
The idea of seeing him bow to us?
They would gather together like some sort of reunion, as if they were people who functioned just like one. People who loved the hate they gave.
So even when Advil didn't work, Katsuki had to deal with the horrific comments one by one. Letter by letter and verse by verse. Because like real humans, their mouths couldn't be closed. No matter how hard he tried.
It would start as a whisper, which was Katsuki's hint that it was about to come. And when the whispers would get louder, he would start to whimper, start to shake under his covers and try not to let his tears to leak.
No, he whispered. Please. Not again.
It was a terror. A nightmare he couldn't escape. As if his buddies would leave his head, start to walk around his room and then his walls. Sit and chat with him like old friends trying to catch up.
There's nothing to talk about. Please leave me alone.
How about we speak up a bit?
No!
It was a game of tug-of-war. But it seemed like Katsuki could never win. And he hated losing.
So in the midst of the yelling of pure hatred, he tried to let his one voice speak louder than one hundred. He was Katsuki Bakugou, he could do it, could he not?
Kid, you're going to lose.
No, I'm not, bastards!
They would chuckle, what a clown Katsuki was, huh? A clown with a pride too big and an outfit to ugly for his own good. Because his buddies knew—-he was a human puppet controlled by a few strings.
With tears in his eyes and head pounding just as much as his heart was, he decided to go out. So, he put his shoes on, grabbed the keys and made his way out the door. However, that's when he sort of realized by the cracks littering the wall and stairs, that the city was still in ruins.
If he were to go out, those damn citizens were going to be louder than his own buddies for Pete's sake.
He sighed, shut the door once again and took his shoes off. Hell, he had nothing to do. That was until he decided that to shut his buddies up, he had to actually do something other than sulk. So, he marched right up to his room and said, "Time to clean this fucker."
But when he opened the door to his medium-sized closet, that's when he realized what a bigger tsunami he was about to tackle.
Clothes exploded everywhere. Some were clothes he didn't know he had while others were ones he wore constantly to the point they were in desperate need of a wash. Even things that weren't clothes such as trash and dishes were in there.
Safe to say it was a place where all his flaws were hidden safely behind a closed door.
"Gosh damn it," he muttered, running his hand through his half damp half dry hair. Alas, he soon realized that staring at the closet for thirty consecutive minutes wasn't going to do much but make his buddies talk louder.
So, he stubbornly got up and tackled the pile of clothes he hadn't touched in months. Not because he was lazy, but because lately he had been busy and cleaning frustrated him even more, which was a perfect match for his stress.
Slowly though, the mountain of wrinkled clothes soon turned into small piles, organized by type, cleanliness and color. He didn't feel like doing this, yet it seemed that no matter what he was tackling, like it or not it had to be perfect.
But as the closet became more lonely, the clothes—-gone in the washer and the trash—-erased from memory, he soon realized he had stuffed in even more things. Despite it being in boxes and his tiredness overtaking him, his curiosity was even greater. Made him pull the boxes towards him and open them immediately.
Katsuki's eyes widened, the nostalgic feeling filling the room to the point where even his buddies couldn't take such an intimidating presence.
It soon dawned to him that he wasn't stuck in a box. That he wasn't the only one alone in this cold world where the autumn falls fell as the cold winter slowly welcomed itself home.
Izuku was still in a coma. It had been a month.
And this box...this box reeked of Izuku. Reeked of memories back in high school when both him and Katsuki would hang out until sunrise on top of the roof with only a blanket and words to share.
People would expect the box to be full of memories, seeing as the nostalgic aurora filled the whole apartment. But people would be surprised once they saw what was inside. Katsuki was too.
Inside, there was a small photo album, which could only fit Polaroid-size pictures. Yet, as soon as he opened it, he felt his heart being ripped out of his chest.
Smiles and laughter looked back at him, rosy cheeks and giddy postures filling the small canvas. And every time Katsuki flipped to the next picture, the brighter the pictures seemed to get.
Those freckles sparkled back at him, as if the only source of light was that small album and the small album alone. Big smiles and white teeth topped with closed eyes with pretty eyelashes decorated the once blank page. And though Katsuki tried to brush it off, put the album away or even burn it if possible, he felt drawn to it. As if every picture brought him more want.
And through furrowed eyebrows and watery eyes, he tried to tell himself he didn't care. Katsuki wanted to tell himself he had to get over it. But the more he told himself, the more his fingers coursed through the next page.
Another picture came up. Izuku was in it obviously, the sun hitting his eyes making his skin shine more prettier than golden hour, his hair clearly being swayed through the wind like a spring day as his muscles showed through his shirt. He wasn't looking directly at the camera, but seemed to be caught off guard, giving him a natural pose.
A tear seemed to make its way out of its hiding spot, rolling softly down Katsuki's red cheek as he demanded his eyes to look away. But his eyes only seemed to want more, fighting back demands from the stubborn little bastard as they seemed to relish in the beauty of a human being.
Yet, there was another one that caught his eye. This time, he was in it, his pouty look of a stubborn child clashed with his overly spiked hair made him 'Tch' of how bratty he looked. But he couldn't really deny that he looked laughable.
Izuku was beside him, a peace sign held up as his arm wrapped around Katsuki's neck while the other held the camera. They seemed to be inside Katsuki's room, the blurred out TV in the background as they posed with lazy hoodies and night skies.
But in the midst of their laziness, Katsuki couldn't deny how...how pretty Izuku looked. His eyes still shined like raw emeralds straight from Columbia, his freckles like the stars he loved to name so much and just...everything about him.
Just the thought of it made Katsuki's heart flutter, his cheeks burn and his hand slap his face at the very idea.
"What the hell am I thinking?" He whispered, no one to hear excpect him and the pictures. But it wasn't a lie! Izuku looked so pretty, his face of a baby's—-Saturn's beauty is his body held nothing but strong and firm muscles, ones that would flex in every movement.
Katsuki cursed at the thought. What nerve he had to be thinking such things.
Despite that, the sappy, blush-worthy pictures seemed to fade by every flip of a page. Because Katsuki soon noticed that in every picture, that smile that taunted him so cockily would fade slowly and slowly until all that was left were dull eyes and straight lips.
He blinked, his eyes wondering where that pretty human being's smile went. His brain trying to process the sudden change that wasn't so sudden, yet it seemed that way.
Quickly, Katsuki flipped the pages back, looking for the last page that had a real smile.
Once he found it, he went back to the last one. That's when, he soon realized that by the time Izuku's smile had vanished before him.
How...how did I not notice?
When was this?
...w-what?
And it felt like the only person to blame was Shoto. The only person who could've tricked this pretty human being was no other than Shoto Todoroki, the one who can go from smiles to spirals...spirals out of control that is.
Katsuki didn't notice how his explosions were going off, the Polaroids burning by small specks wherever the bits of heat landed on. He stopped, putting himself under control as he forced himself to look at the picture with a pretty third-year who's smile was gone and brightness lowered.
The boy in the picture stared back at him, taunted him with silence and asked him, well where did the light go? I wonder where.
The Izuku here was the same one that was now in the hospital who couldn't even open his eyes to show the world his one of a kind emeralds.
How long...had Izuku been like this?
"Damn it!"
The album knocked down the table lamp, a loud thud vibrating against the walls.
"Why don't you wake up?!"
His foot made contact with the box, sending it flying to the closet as it trembled to gain its balance. Yet, it couldn't even do that as Katsuki kicked it over and over again to the point where holes were being made and everything was slowly ripping apart.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it!"
"You should leave soon, son. People might be worried about you," space said, playing with the strands of Izuku's hair as he laid peacefully.
"But it's cold there. I hate being cold."
"Come back so I can save you, dumb Deku!"
"Also, this is the only place I can smile. Mama, I don't want to lose my smile. Back there it's cold and grey and winter is about to come and everything and everyone is awful and-"
"Do me the honor in giving you your smile back! I swear! We can cuddle at night with those heating blankets that you love so much! We can watch whatever dumb movie you want! We can even sneak out and steal from the gas station! Remember last time?!"
"You act like a child. Izuku, don't you think other people might feel that way too?"
"I swear I'll do anything you want! Just stop being such a selfish bastard and get back here!"
Some may ask why would he act like this, why make such a big fuss over a guy he's barely met. But this isn't just any guy.
This is Izuku Midoriya. The guy Katsuki fell in love with since the times where bickering in class while secretly talking to each other in the middle of the night was their relationship.
"Huh?"
He wiped his tears, never working since it just kept o coming. "Damn it, Deku. You're nothing but a selfish man that I fell in love with since high school."
"If you're the warmth for someone, can't that someone be the warmth for you?"
"I hate you. I hate you so much, Deku. You make me sick."
"I'm sorry, mama. But I can't."
"But what if I tell you someone doesn't want warmth? All they want is to give you a blanket."
"So sick. I might just vomit."
"What?"
~~~~~
[Play Music]
Inko Midoriya died a long time ago.
Though—-before that, even with the wrinkles on her face growing on her as time flew by the same way her soul was, she was never getting taken years from her life. Her warm smile never faded, the glisten of her sweet eyes becoming if not even more brighter by day.
As she saw her child slowly grow up, it warmed her heart the same way the sun would touch her face as she sat on a bench, watching two children draw together under one of the plastic slides.
And even when her beautiful child wasn't seen as beautiful as her eyes told her so, that didn't stop Inko from showing and feeling love.
Her tears fell onto the cold concrete where the orange leaves lied, her tears watering the ground which she stepped on.
She had to hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up. Hurry up.
The smile her eyes witnessed from the child she loved so dearly made her want to see another day, maybe make katsudon for dinner and pumpkin pie for dessert.
Izuku was the only one she had. And with that, Inko was ok. Because every morning, rain or shine, hail or not, the love of a son was the only thing she ever needed. It was her daily dose of coffee, her daily reminder plastered on her refrigerator with a letter magnet and colors going out the line.
What else could she ever ask for? The heavens above gave her the damn sun to nurture.
Cars beeped and honked, people yelled in fiery as she went through every red light, her shoes clacking against the concrete while trying not to trip against her own two feet.
"Ma'am! Slow down, is something the matter?"
The same way Izuku's breath fogged up the cold window as a curious child was the same way the noise felt to her. Faded. Not there. A facade scarred and tattered to the point where it was too weak to leave.
Inko remembered that one time where Izuku had a science project where he had to create his very own solar system. She remembered getting home from work only to see Izuku try to color a small shoebox with a dark blue crayon in hopes of getting the shoebox to look exactly like the sky.
My, how frustrated he looked. His small, chubby face in a small frown because the crayon wasn't coloring the way he wanted to. But the second he saw her, the frown disappeared.
Izuku's small arms tried so desperately to fit his mom into his embrace. Though he was only small, he wanted to give his mom all the love he could possibly give.
Once she got there, she was welcomed with the coldness and the smell of hospital. The stomach-churning smell of disinfectant and the goosebump-giving coldness made Inko shiver at the touch.
But still, she ran to the front desk, slammed her hands on the table as her tears made puddles of water like the puddles Izuku used to splash on with that other child before getting a cold.
"Izuku Midoriya! I need to see him. Please, just let me see him; I'm his mother and I must see him!"
The security guard sitting there was shocked. Not only by the lady's appearance but by the urgency and pleads she gave out.
With eyes of pity, he quickly got the information needed and let her run out to see the falling Pro-Hero: Izuku Midoriya. The Symbol of Peace who destroyed not only people, but trust and respect.
She held him in her arms, swung him up to the sky and down again only to start flying away again, his small cape flapping like wings as he held his All Might figurine proudly.
"I'll be the best hero ever! And then, I'll be able to save you too mommy!"
With a sad smile, she tried to hold on to a child's promise the same way he was. "Of course. You and I will stick together and then when I go out sometime, maybe you will be saving me."
"Yeah! Oh, and maybe me and Kacchan can save you! He's really strong and-and his explosions can crush all the bad guys like boom! It'll be awesome, mom!"
"Absolutely."
"Ma'am, please slow down. He's not going anywhere-"
"How am I supposed to slow down when my son is in a coma, young lady?"
She probably bumped into a few patients, maybe even made another fall. But with a little 'sorry!' She was up and running again.
Not only was the sound blurry, her vision was too. As if she was trying to look from under the water, breath slowly leaving as the sun would illuminate the water above her.
"Mama, they're bullying me again." The worry was written all over Inko's face, his tears being held with the little strength he had left.
"I'm sorry, Izuku."
Izuku hated seeing his mother like that. All of the worry and concern written on her face like an open book made him mad at himself. Because...he wasn't supposed to worry her. She already worked so hard to accumulate even more stress on top of her.
He wanted to have a quirk. Not only to work besides that one boy, but so that the kids in school wouldn't worry. So that he wouldn't have to cry. So that he wouldn't have to worry his mom.
She opened door after door. That was until she opened one specific door—-825, was it? My, how she dropped to her knees and cried like a young child. Poor mother, having to see their child pale and in between.
How her tears ran across her face as she dragged her knees towards the bed in front of her. How her warm hand grabbed Izuku's, her scent and warmth filling the coldness of the room.
"I'm so sorry..."
Though the sun was shining, the room was dark. The curtains covered the smile of the rays only to maintain the moment of emotion. The moment of a sad reunion.
His frustration turned into anger—-anger into dust. Because Inko remembered waking up to the smell of pumpkin pie and fresh picked sunflowers along with a note scribbled out to the point where letters connected with each other, little stains of water of some sort.
She remembered the strange feeling that overcame her. So much that she sat down on the sofa and accepted that maybe...a loss came with a death of her own.
Inko closed her eyes and accepted that she was going to die. Her heart felt empty and the small little apartment where they would play heroes and cook and cry together soon turned into a house of a sad reunion.
"I'm sorry, dear. I'm oh so very sorry."
The monitor was the only one talking to her. The beeping and strange sounds of machines were the only ones who talked back to her.
"Izuku, sweetie. When you wake up, we can hang out, alright? We can go to the little apartment, you still remember it, right? We can walk through that one playground you used to love playing as a kid." She wiped the tears off her eyes, her vision clearing.
"Do you remember when you used to run barefoot with Katsuki? You two played so much under that one slide," she chuckled, the sound a facade—-one where she tried to suppress her emotions so fragile and so tender it could shatter if she went silent.
The memories she told like a tale were her suppressants to that incurable illness.
"Maybe we can make pumpkin pie together. I know how much you love that. I'll make you a whole pot of Katsudon if you want. Just please don't-" her words went empty as she choked on her own little sobs.
The only thing she begged for was that Izuku didn't find another mother somewhere she wouldn't be.
"I'm so sorry."
Inko Midoriya died a long time ago.
It's the next day (by next day I mean a day after I wrote the first authors note) and as I was rereading this, I realized how much the loss of someone can affect the other.
Don't kill yourself guys, that shit makes others die.