Suicidal Todoroki x Midoriya | What it Means to Love

19 | Even Angels Fall

Izuku Midoriya

"STOP!" I scream, now resorting to using my quirk in order to shatter the fractals of ice imprisoning my body.

My scorching heart pulses frantically, growing immensely audible in my ears as my head throbs to the rhythm. My rapid breaths bounce through my body as my spine is licked with frost. All which is encompassed by my peripheral vision looks as if it's been smeared with light.

Blade on skin. Blood on blade. Todoroki plunges the knife into his left arm as if to finish off an opponent with a single, fell penetration to one of their vitals. His crippled, piqued expression as he ruthlessly shoves the excruciating agony of his injury aside and carves deeply into his arm triggers the activation of my quirk. With the wry, lethally gleaming knife still clamping down on his skin and eating away at his flesh underneath, his body abruptly ceases to move, becoming limp.

Thud!

Tap!

Slapping against the floor is Todoroki's body, and following suit is the knife, which is knocked free of his grasp upon impact with the floor; his clenched fist had flown open, releasing the weapon. The sneering blade dripping in a scarlet hue smudges the floor with thin strands of blood, but so too do Todoroki's arms—his arms look like they've been jammed into a blender.

Ice shards crumble and explode against the walls of Todoroki's room as I free myself from its relentless, cruel grip on me. I dive like a falcon for Todoroki and, with furious tears trampling my cheeks, I start to digest the entire feast of misery being shoved down my throat.

I will never forget the gruesome scene which has unfurled before my enormous, gasping green eyes. I won't forget the lifeless eyes—eyes which had their light brutally slain—staring at me so desperately, so haplessly. I won't forget the red, desolate face mottled with crusted tear stains crawling across my skin, inviting me to bring the rivers back into the desert. I won't forget the feigned, plaintive smile of defeat glaring at me, accentuating my candid loss. I won't forget the lamentable grimace of torture clawing at my eyes like a hawk, chipping away at my rapidly pounding heart. I won't forget the sadistic silver knife soaring through the air and drilling its beak into flesh, drawing blood from the wounds of two people combined. I won't forget the way the crying flesh was torn open without a drop of clemency, forcing scarlet red blood to leap up to the surface and spill out, constricting my chest. I won't forget the merciless blade of truth piercing through my chest, screaming in two separate voices how this is a blessing and a horrific, relentless nightmare. I won't forget this ruthless, primal scream for help ringing in my ears, jamming deep inside them until they bleed. I will never forget that even angels fall.

Just as my head, which is torrentially spiraling in a devastating maelstrom of deafening turmoil, wriggles back onto my shoulders, I find myself paralyzed at Todoroki's fallen body. Horrific scars—old and new alike—have devoured his arms like savage, voracious animals. The rich red blood swelling up from his severe lacerations and parading down follows the flow of gravity to the floor. His forlorn expression is still and tranquil, and yet so perturbing.

Being the inauspicious witness of the blood cascading down Todoroki's arms makes my stomach stir and twist in agony, but I continuously remind myself not to throw up.

I don't think I've been standing here staring in glaring bewilderment at Todoroki for very long, but a large, robust hand jerks my body to the side. Endeavor. He stares down at his son who's been drenched with blood and drowned in sorrow, struck by fury and mauled by hatred. An asphyxiating silence ensues from his rigorous examination of Todoroki.

"So foolish," Endeavor mutters, his voice laced with a type of emotion foreign to me. "Midoriya, carry him outside." His bone-chilling command drives my limbs for me, but I can't shake the uneasiness in Endeavor's unfaltering voice.