Bullet | Suicidal Todoroki x Midoriya

6 | Monster

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

Izuku Todoroki

"Hey! Papa!" Kirusuke gasped while sprinting towards his parents. "Dad, why would you—"

"Out," Shoto snarled while whipping his head around to face Kirusuke, but his son hesitated. "Get out of the fucking kitchen!" His curled, ghastly knuckles seethed as they slammed down onto the kitchen counter. "This is why I need it!" Apoplectic from what Izuku assumed was a combination of the lack of alcohol and Shoto's own inner turmoil, Shoto's expression of unadulterated fury cut like a knife.

Izuku slowly approached the beast of fury that he once exchanged vows with. He felt as though Shoto was screaming for a hand to drag him out of his inferno of defensive flames. Somewhere, beyond the phlegmatic Shoto, the furious Shoto, and the violent Shoto, Izuku knew there was one that was suffering while being crushed by the weight of reality.

"But that doesn't mean you can hurt Papa!" Kirusuke growled in retaliation.

"If your papa would stop trying to 'help' what doesn't need it, I wouldn't," Shoto sibilated before taking a swig of the alcohol.

As tears began to leak from Kirusuke's eyes, Yuujin pointedly barked, "Is the alcohol more important than us? You look like you love that more than you love your own family."

Fleeting silence washed over the room until Shoto hissed, "It helps me so much more than my own family..." His hands trembled as he gulped down another mouthful of his drink.

"You must be a monster," Yuujin retorted. "Is it us or the alcohol?"

"I must be a monster, Izuku. Even to myself..."

Shoto shook his head. "Go to your rooms. Unless you want me to pick the alcohol, go to your rooms." Although his eyes were like empty bottles of wine, they were fractured—damaged.

While Rina and Kirusuke plodded through the dolorous atmosphere to their rooms, Yuujin scoffed, "Aren't we a little old for that? What can't we be present for? You're always hiding something from us."

Izuku was torn between escorting Yuujin out and directly intervening with Shoto, but as he unconsciously started to move, Shoto roared, "Be thankful that I don't beat the shit out of you for having an opinion that's different from mine!" His hand that clutched his drink wound back, but as wroth panic constructed Izuku's impulses, the latter grappled onto Shoto's wrist in an endeavor to obviate any further regrets or damage.

"I always wanted to know, but I never got the answer to it: why would my own father beat the shit out of me because my opinion was different from his?"

As Shoto snarled at Izuku, Izuku gasped, "Yuu, leave!" He reinforced his grip around his husband while Shoto began to thrash like an animal. "Shoto, stop!" Izuku pried the glass of wine from Shoto's hand, slid it across the counter, and thrust his weight against Shoto to tip the taller man back against the side of the kitchen counter. "Please..." While restraining Shoto's wrists and constricting the overall mobility of his body, Izuku softened his words.

"I can't without the drink!" he belligerently bellowed. "Fuck, let go!"

Shaking his head apace, Izuku loosened his grip a bit. "No. Shoto, we need to work on your dependency on alcohol. It's... It's killing you, Shoto. You can't run your life off of alcohol." He cautiously maneuvered Shoto into his arms to placate his husband's indignation.

"Izuku, I don't fucking care. I don't care if it kills me. I need it..."

"Why do you need it so badly?" For a moment, Izuku's words sufficed to quell his husband.