Bullet | Suicidal Todoroki x Midoriya

2 | Gone

Izuku Todoroki

Izuku couldn't sleep. He had grown accustomed to the warmth provided by his husband, the amount of space on the bed that his husband occupied, the weight of his husband that caused the mattress to sink down a bit, the fresh, subtle scent of his husband, and the sound and sensation of his husband's breaths. He and Shoto always slept together, and for the first few years of raising their kids, the kids would often weasel into bed with them. Yet, Izuku was accompanied merely by his own breaths and heartbeat, and not to mention the belligerent thoughts beleaguering his head.

Please be safe, Izuku repeated to himself for what was likely the hundredth instance that night. Please be safe, Shoto. The last time this happened, we were still just boyfriends, but you came back after five months with so many healing wounds and new and old scars... Just by the look in your eyes, I could tell you'd been through hell. It was so awkward for a while. But things are different now. Shoto, I promise you that the kids love you...

"Am I really someone that they would be proud to call their dad?"

Once the night that felt like a century had slithered away from the rising tide of the morning sunlight spilling over the horizon, Izuku sat upright in bed and glanced over his shoulder as though to reaffirm that Shoto was truly gone. For a moment, he stared at the side of the bed where he would find his husband sleeping. Shoto had gradually shifted from a morning bird to a night owl, but Izuku retained his habits for waking up and going to bed early.

With a tug of loneliness on his stomach, Izuku fumbled to his feet and began preparing breakfast for the kids. On a typical morning when the kids had school, Shoto would cook breakfast for everyone while Izuku packed the kids' lunches, but Izuku could only sigh at the feeling of a certain hollowness that cradled his being.

While still in the process of preparing breakfast, Izuku turned his head at the sound of a door opening to see Kirusuke rubbing his eyes while hobbling over to the dining table. "Good morning," he greeted Kirusuke with a smile. "It's almost done. It's not the exact way your dad makes it, but I hope it's okay." He then served his earliest-rising son the omelette he'd fried up.

"Thanks, Papa. But Dad's not here?" Kirusuke queried while wafting the aroma of the omelette towards his nose.

"You could say he's...on a bit of a business trip," Izuku replied with cold sweat licking his neck. "Neither of us are sure of when he'll get back, though." He canted his head at Yuujin's presence in the dining room. "Good morning, Yuu. You're up earlier than usual."

Yuujin scrupulously inspected his silverware and plate before cutting into his omelette. "I woke up an hour ago—I don't know why." His remote eyes of a frosty, vivid amethyst met Izuku's eyes.

Before long, Rina finally emerged from her room and took a seat at the table. "Where's Dad?" She glanced around the room.

Izuku felt his heart sink into his chest cavity. "He's, well, on a business trip of sorts, but we don't know when he'll be back." He mustered up another smile, but he could only imagine the hellish warzone that his husband would be fighting in the maw of.

"Right... A 'business trip.' Okay," Yuujin murmured as a flippant insinuation.

Izuku's brows lowered as Rina and Kirusuke glanced over at Yuujin. "What do you mean?" Izuku asked.

Yuujin's gaze was cut by his glare. "I wouldn't be surprised if he ran off with someone else." Acrimonious ardor permeated his words. Izuku was nonplussed, but as he gripped his dissonant thoughts again, Yuujin continued, sighing, "Did he even want kids?" His amethyst eyes were glacial rings of venom.

"Uh, I think that's going a little too far," Kirusuke remarked while finishing off his omelette.

"Yuujin..." Izuku sighed as a fog of frost bit through his head. "Your dad loves you three so much more than he can express. He's...just been through a lot."

"Izuku, you're certain that you want to marry me?"

"I know you've been through a lot, but I want you to know that I'll love you, regardless of how many problems you might have."

"I see. He probably has been through a lot...of other guys."

"Yuujin!" Izuku gasped as ire and sorrow amalgamated into an acerbic bile. "Your dad is not that kind of person." Honestly, Izuku was astonished and mortified by the fact that his son that was ten years of age had already been introduced to the type of world that the internet made easily accessible. "What makes you think of him like that?"

A vexed, frigid scowl scratched at Yuujin's mien. "You never know what he does at work, and he won't tell any of us about it. He always leaves after dinner, he doesn't look like he loves you or any of us whatsoever, and he just seems too perfect when it comes to his looks. If he really loved us, he'd trust us with the truth, wouldn't he?" Gentle veils of crystalline tears washed across his eyes.

Effervescent emotions hissed through Izuku's veins and snapped in his stomach like a whirlwind of firecrackers as silence befell the room. "Yuu, your dad doesn't want you to know because he doesn't want to risk you guys worrying about him. But, please...never talk about your dad like that. Yuujin, come here." His son vacillated before obeying; he sulked towards Izuku with his nose tipped towards the floor.

"There's no way Dad's that kind of person," Kirusuke remarked while shuffling off to the sink with his soiled dishes. "But he definitely has some sketchiness, y'know? He never said he was gonna leave, never said goodbye, and now he's gone. Kinda makes me sad. Oh, he doesn't have a super bad disease or something, does he?"

Izuku hooked his son with naturally magenta hair into his arms. "He's not sick like that, so don't worry, Kiru," he reassured Kirusuke while Yuujin stifled his subtle sniffles. "Your dad is strong—very, very strong—but..." He stayed his tongue.

Shoto is still just a human, Izuku thought. I know he's been trained to suppress his emotions, but I still don't think that's healthy at all. Especially after what he told me. I try to imagine myself in his shoes during that time, but I just can't imagine feeling what he did. Well, more accurately, not feeling what he wanted to feel.

"I'm a human, right?"

"Of course you are. Can I ask why you're asking?"

"I just...need to remind myself that I am sometimes. It isn't necessarily that I forget. Even though I know the truth, I have a bad tendency to believe what I'm told. It's harder to believe the truth than it is to believe the lies. Izuku, I'm needed in this world...right?"

"Is Dad...sad?" Rina inquired, but her question was one that Izuku could speak of only from the past—Shoto was the only one capable of confirming or denying it.

"Is there anything I can do for you, Shoto? You look...a bit sad."

"It's all right. I try to forget the difficult memories, but I end up remembering what happened again and again. It's paralyzing. I'll be trapped in my head. I can't get out. That's what it used to be. But, that's what reality is to me now—a memory I can't escape from, but I still try."

Although Shoto had been diagnosed with clinical depression after returning from duty roughly a decade prior, Izuku could not speak for his husband's own feelings. "I... I don't know, Rina. But I do know that he constantly thinks about us and wants us to be happy." He firmly embraced his son before releasing him. "We can talk more about this after school, all right? Your lunches are on the counter. Finish getting ready, and I hope you guys have a good day."

I think he feels like he isn't enough for us, Izuku pondered while slinking back into his room. He seldom talks about how he feels, even if he sometimes voices his thoughts. Still, I can't get over the fact that Yuujin thought Shoto was someone scandalous. He's...the opposite, if anything. Yuujin never really cries, either. And what he said... That Shoto just looked perfect? Something about that doesn't sit right with me. Please make it back soon and safe so we can discuss this all, Shoto. I'm worried about what's going to happen. The kids are getting older, and I think...we're going to have to tell them the truth soon.