𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬 || 𝐒.𝐓

| prolouge |

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Love.

Death.

They are all part of the same cycle; we endure the pain to see the light of day just one more time because sometimes a little bit of pain is worth it. We endure the hurt if it means we can love another for just another day, even when the running mascara stains the pillow cases, and the sobs increase within the days that slowly progress into weeks.

It all comes down to love, and the mourning of the death of love.

Because everything dies.. people die, so love must too die.

Right?

Arguments in a relationship were normal. Fairly normal that some doctors might even say it's healthy even. Pent up frustration and anger can lead to even more serious things but that's when the word communication comes along.

Communication.

It feels like people have glamorized the word sometimes, in your relationship communication either consisted of angry sex that later led to you ignoring him for the next three days, or the screaming and yelling at one another in a constant battle to see who could yell the loudest. Shoto Todoroki was not a person to argue. Nor was he easy to anger, but whether he liked it or not; like his father - his words could cut like glaciers in the sea and burn hundreds of miles of land like a wild forest fire. Whether he liked it or not, Shoto, was just like his father.

And you...

You just seemed to always catch yourself in the crossfire when it came to him. You unlike your husband, were exactly like your mother, and whether or not you liked it, your words carried knives behind their back, carving out pieces of his heart. This was no longer a relationship - this was hell.

A hell that even love can't help mend and subdue the flames that came tumbling down with your relationship.

***

"What's wrong with us." His voice rings into your ears as you wipe away the running mascara off your face, smearing it even more on your cheeks. You look back at him, noticing all the tipped over furniture and the broken glass scattered all over the floor.

The flower vase is shattered, water and rose petals pool at the floor. Your wedding photo barley hanging off the walls.

Shoto rests his forehead on the connecting bathrooms doorframe, you shake your head. "I don't know what's wrong with us."

You look at your reflection, staring aimlessly into the mirror. You sit on the corner of the bed, dressed in only a bra and white jeans. The blouse you planned on wearing that evening thrown somewhere across the room. "We are supporting to be celebrating.. not this." He points at the scene, you nod.

You sniff up your sobs, ignoring the throbbing headache.

You hear his footsteps get closer, his body crouches beside you. His palms caress your cheek, wiping the stains off and passed your face. You begin to wonder what brought on this fight, you look back at your husband and his teary eyes. You reach out with your palm, wiping his cheeks.

"We can't keep doing this." You sob quietly.

He nods, "Come on Y/N, don't say that please, w-we can fix this. We can fix us." He cries, you push his arms off you. Eyeing at the shatter glass you cry into your palms.

"No baby, there is no fixing us."

"I don't believe that, we can fix it. We always did ever since we were seventeen..."