Bullet | Suicidal Todoroki x Midoriya

5 | Breaking

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

Izuku Todoroki

Awakening from his torpid state, Izuku felt an instantaneous flood of relief from the sensation of Shoto's hand still being clutched in his. To reaffirm that Shoto was truly beside him, he held his breath and listened for the rhythmic breaths of his husband. Indubitably, Shoto was resting.

Swaying spools of shadow from the tree branches outside flickered through the radiant torrent of sunlight pouring in through the somewhat murky windows. Izuku loved waking up to sunny mornings, and a slight smile kneaded through his lips at the sight of the sunlight shimmering in Shoto's dual-colored hair.

"Sunny mornings are my favorite," Izuku chuckled while sitting on the porch with Shoto at his side. "What kind of morning is your favorite?"

Shoto peered up at the azure field dappled with bunches of snowy cotton. "I think any morning is good when I get to see you."

Izuku extended his hand to gently shake Shoto awake, but his hand hovered in abject vacillation. A part of Izuku feared that Shoto would perhaps reflexively prepare to lock Izuku into a lethal position, so he was reluctant to endeavor it. Yet, with a shaking hand, the man with forest-green hair gently rocked Shoto's body back and forth.

As if being unfettered from a century-long slumber of nightmares, Shoto groggily snapped his eyes open, inhaled sharply through his nose, and wound himself up like a machine to promptly sit upright. His eyes scoured the room, but likely upon the subliminal, comforting recognition of being in his own home, the perfervid urgency impregnating Shoto's movements ebbed away.

"Oh," Shoto sighed dejectedly as his remote, steely eyes traced down to the bed.

The undertone of desideration that gripped the precipice of Shoto's voice modulation caused Izuku to frown. "Oh?" he repeated.

"Nothing. Don't ask," Shoto sibilated, but he seemed to be cerebrating over something.

Izuku's eyes scrutinized Shoto's shaking hands, and it was then that he noticed how Shoto's wedding ring had been transferred to his right hand; the ring was dented, scratched, and weatherbeaten, however. "You kept...the ring," Izuku murmured. "What happened?"

For a moment, it was as though a cord had been yanked from Shoto's body as the heterochromatic man entered a torpefied, detached state. "Do you really want to know?" he sighed with a rusted, tattered voice, so Izuku hesitantly nodded. "I was attacked by a dog." By that sentence alone, Izuku could deduce what had transpired, but he still found himself covering his mouth in astonishment. "I'm lucky that I only lost a single finger. I did some horrible things to that dog, even though it had no idea what the ring even meant. But I cut it open just to get the ring back. I needed it. That was all I had." Not a vestige of sorrow suffused his dismal, grim stare.

Oh how Izuku wished to erase the flames of brutality that ignited in his mind. He could hear the yelps, snarls, and growls of what he pictured to be a large dog, but he could also hear cracks of bone and hisses of human pain. He could feel the bestial jaws clamping down on Shoto's finger and tearing it free. He could see the bullets and blades piercing through the flesh of the dog before that dog was torn asunder. He could smell the mud and the blood on the ground, and perhaps even the odor of his husband.

Izuku placed his hand atop Shoto's shivering hand that lacked the ring. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Shoto's expression deteriorated into a lour drenched in vitriol. "No," he hissed. "You should know me well enough to know that I don't want to talk about it."