𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 || S. Todoroki x Reader

39 - This Side of Hell

tw: a little more graphic descriptions of blood and gore in this. probably the next chapter too. ya'll know what you're getting into.

***

"Get up, Toya."

He was crying, tears stung his face as they mixed with blood and sweat. It wasn't the cuts that hurt him, though. He relished the pain, relished the burning of his skin every time he used his quirk. It was his heart that was tender to the touch, hurting like an exposed nerve. 

Maybe he deserved it, maybe he didn't. 

Toya didn't know or care. 

All he did know was that he was being abandoned. Again. Ire crackled in his spine, burning worse than his flames ever could. These people who'd taken so much away from the two of you. His own father for leaving him at their doorstep, unbothered by his son's fate. Promises ran through his fingers like sand, images of a little girl hugging a stuffed fox with tears in her eyes blinked before him.

He'd rather die than leave her. Was probably going to die regardless. But his heart hurt when he realized he couldn't save her. He couldn't hold her hand and tell her it was okay to be sacred, as long as she wasn't scared of him. 

Something in him knew that as soon as he left she'd forget him. 

They would make her forget the hope he spun. The protection he provided. 

The hollow sensation started in his chest and stretched out until he might as well have been empty. He'd finally found someone who needed him as much as he needed them. And he didn't get to keep her. She was going to forget him.

So he made a promise as he stood.

One day, he'd find that girl again. No matter where, no matter when, he would find her.

He would take her hand and he would show her how beautiful the world could be.

***

The air was a sharp slap against your skin, pulling you into the harsh grip of night. 

You'd thought the smoke was hard on your lungs... now you wondered how long it would take to stop hacking up inky spats of bile. You heaved, grabbing your chest and falling to your knees. The pavement scratched your knees, you welcomed the pain. At least you were still alive. Your bones shook from fatigue and adrenaline, upheaving your body into a mess of confliction. 

A metallic sweetness boiled in the back of your throat, stretching down the base of your spine. The cloth wrapped around your neck frayed at the edges, unspooling with your dry heaves. Lifting a shaking hand, you pressed into the wound on the base of your skull. They came away wet and sticky. You cursed, wiping the blood on your pants and ripping some of your shirt for a makeshift bandage. The material itched against your neck.

It was night, the sky dark and awash with little stars. How long had it been since camp? A few hours? A few days? 

Gray and blue shaded the rumble around you. The large divot you found yourself in gaped open, a great maw of cracked asphalt like a meteor had come in and split the earth. You scanned for signs of life only to meet crumbling, gray city rubble. Like someone had come in and kicked everything around for fun then forgotten to come clean up. 

A ghost town, covered in a sheen of dust and old memories that sang through the air like wind through hollow branches. The night was a violent kind of silent, the kind that rang through your ears until it grew toa deafening shriek. Or maybe that was just your blood rushing through your skull.