What If It Was All Fake... (Depressed Deku X Todoroki)

-Chapter 32- Backstory

Not proofread

-Izuku's POV-

What did he say? Did he say he wasn't always that much cheerful. What did he mean by that?

"Come in. I'll explain it to you"

"Uhm ok?"

"That sounded like a question. If you don't want to hear about it we could play games?" He said with his same cheerful and bubbly expression.

"No. I want hear your story. I wanna learn more about you" I say. A fake smile plastered on my face. I feel a sharp pain in my rib and try to hide it. I hope he won't notice or read my mind. His quirk is so cool. I wish I could use it to know why Bakugo hates me so much.

"So I'm on with my story"

"When I was 12 my father died. Your grandfather. My mom fell in depression. Being the cheerful person I was, I tried to light up the mood in the house. I wasn't helping much and it made me sad. At first I didn't really care about being ignored. But then it affected me more. I was sad and down more often and all my efforts to light up the mood, didn't do anything to anyone."

"We all lived in sadness. After some time I got better. I felt more happy. I thought things get back to normal. Then my mom, your grandmother, killed herself. She tried many times. This time was the time it worked. She died leaving your mom and I alone."

"I fell back into dark places. Things were dull. I wasn't interested in anything. Nothing seemed interesting to me. I stopped eating. I stopped sleeping. I wasn't taking to anyone at school. I was alone and sad. "

"One day Inko decided to take me to a psychologist to diagnose what was wrong with me. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. He gave me the number of a therapist. Of course I didn't want to go, but Inko forced me to go to all the sessions."

"Nothing helped me. I started to cut. I also tried to kill myself multiple times. When I tried to commit suicide for the 5th time. They sent me to a mental hospital. It was a lot better than I excepted. Everyone was nice and caring."

"They helped me recover. I felt better. But I was still addicted to cutting. I would cut deeper each time. It made me feel good. One day I was cutting. A nurse came in my room to check up on me and she saw me cutting myself."

"She walked towards me and sat beside me on my bed. I turned my eyes to the side, not wanting to make eye contact. She asked me to face her. I turned around and looked at her. She pulled her sleeve up and showed me her scars. I was shook."

"She told me that she also suffered of the depression when she was in her teenage years. She gave me tricks to stop cutting. It worked. I will forever be grateful. Now I'm here. I feel better. I'm happy that became my cheerful and happy self again."

He smiled at me. A single tear rolled across my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. His life was so hard. He lived all of that when he was so young.

He showed me his wrist. So much scars. Knowing that these will always follow him forever. Yet he is so cheerful and bubbly.

"The trick that helped me the most was: draw on the skin with a soft-tipped red pen in the place u usually cut" He smiled and looked at my wrists.

I bow my head down in shame.

I hope this will help me.

I started to cry. I lift my head up and look at him. He looks worried.

"I'm so happy I met someone like you"