𝕀𝕤𝕟'𝕥 𝚒𝚝 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵𝔂? [ᴀ ᴠɪʟʟᴀɪɴ!ᴅᴇᴋᴜ ᴀᴜ] (discontinued)

Shouto

His mother on the phone. Boiling water on his face. Pain. Agony. Suffering.

Him.

Shouto sat up in his bed, panting. That dream. Over and over and over again. He was stuck.

Ever since he and his brother had ran away from home, Shouto been stuck. Unsure what to do.

Did he wish his father dead?

Did he want to get rid of his power?

Did he want to see his mother?

Touya said everything would be better once they were gone.

So why did it seem like things were getting worse?

Wake up, feel depressed, drink til you pass out, repeat. It was an endless cycle of misery. Shouto got up and walked out to the bar, ready to numb his emotions once more. He didn't necessarily like it, but he didn't know what else to do. Shigaraki sat at the bar, making a card pyramid. Shouto decided not to acknowledge him and went to get a bottle of liquor from the cabinet, only to realize it was empty. Shoutout turned around to Shigaraki.

"What the fuck is this?"

"Oh, that? Dabi told me you were getting into the drinks, so I disintegrated them," Shigaraki said. "You're never productive when you're drunk or passed out."

"Assholes," he hissed, blasting a small wave of ice at Shigaraki, not hitting him, but knocking his almost complete card pyramid down, making the villain glare at the teen.

"So you're a cold bastard when you aren't drinking. Hm, just like your father," Shigaraki growled. Shouto glared at him.

"Say another word and I'll make sure you die of hypothermia. Now I'm gonna go for a walk. Don't bother sending anyone to find me, I'll come back when I feel like it."

Banging the doer shut behind him, Shouto stormed out on the street, slowly trying to regain his composure. He hated Shigaraki. He hated the League of Villains. He hated himself. Why did the one good thing in his life have to be taken away from him? Why couldn't he forget everything he hated? Why couldn't he just be a stupid, happy teenager for a couple hours a day? Was that too much to ask?

Apparently it was. Shouto kicked a can on the street, kicking it forward slightly as he kept walking. He knew he wouldn't be able to get into a bar— he was underage still, and looked the part. He wasn't about to steal some either, he wasn't in the mood to fight.

Caught up in his thoughts, Shouto suddenly heard his name being called out.

"Shouto?"

Shouto froze. Looking up at the tall figure in front of him, he saw red hair, turquoise eyes, and a fierce expression on the man standing in front of him. Shouto tried to stay calm.

"I think you have me mistaken for someone else," he said coldly. Endeavor didn't move a muscle, staring at him as though he were some piece of art in a museum. "I need to be going now."

"Shouto! Wait," Endeavor looked at his son in a panic as he tried to walk away. Shouto turned around, glaring at his father. He couldn't deny it. His scar was clearly visible, and even though his red hair was dyed black, his eyes 

"Leave me alone," Shouto sneered. Endeavor glared at the younger boy.

"Why did you run away from home?"

"Not even a 'I missed you?' Damn, now I really know you aren't my father," Shouto said, his voice slowly raising. "Come to think of it, I never had a father. Just an abusive stranger in my home who never took a damn second to actually care about me! You just cared about the money! I—"