Chapter Text
Grey clouds gathered over Shouto’s head and the low rumble of thunder echoed through his body, drowning out all other sounds that were previously present. Soft raindrops began descending from the surface, out of reach, and hit him like the pellets of an air rifle as he lay motionless among familiar criticising voices swimming through his head, choking him with their words, slowly contorting into eerie whispers stabbing at his vitals. The rain poured harder and pinned him to the floor, he couldn’t move, it was as if gravity had gotten stronger and pushed all his motivation and energy out of his soul and six feet under. He felt so... empty. The water rose above his head, but he didn’t panic, he was used to it. Bubbles escaped his mouth and the voices momentarily went quiet, muffled by the flood of regret washing over him. Drowning him. Consuming him. But they came back, like they always did, except under the water they were more like screeching daggers than whispering shadows. There was one whisper that spoke louder and clearer than the others. It wasn’t a criticising statement nor a thought of comfort, but a question. A deadly question that was more commanding than his conscience and more controlling than the urge to push it away. It was always the same. No, it was always harder. Every day it got harder to ignore the most prominent voice that repeatedly asked, “Is it time yet?” People said it would disappear, if he ignored it for long enough, but it didn’t. It just got louder and louder till it was too loud to bear, leaving him no choice but to give in to its persuasive tone.
A single tear rolled down his face and he held his knees closer to his chest. From his jacket, he pulled out a switchblade he had found on the roof. It was longer than the knives Shouto had been using till now, but it made up for its noticeability with a sharp, clean blade. It was weightless in his palm as he wrapped his fingers around the cold leather-coated hilt that felt like velvet against his dry skin as he grasped it tighter, preparing himself for what he was about to do.
Shouto gently bit into his sleeve and jerked it up, exposing his forearm to the unforgiving cold. He shivered but his hands were steady as he placed the cold metal on his skin and slowly made a deep gash on his arm, counting the reasons one by one, justifying his actions with ‘you deserve it’ playing on repeat in his head. He winced, whether from the sharp pain in his arm that was edging up to his shoulder, or the regret and fear that accompanied his actions, he did not know. The blade really lived up to its appearance. He couldn’t feel his arm and let it fall on his lap. Fresh crimson blood trickled down his forearm over half-healed wounds and old scars reminding him, taunting him.
Finally, everything went silent. The voices died down, the water drained away and he could move again. A huge sigh of relief escaped his throat but was closely followed by choked sobs of guilt. The voices had left him only to be replaced by painful memories. They didn’t stab him like the whispers but instead grabbed and twisted his chest into a tight unbreathable knot. It was torture, every day was torture. The water returned in full force from above, crashing down on his head.
"Will it ever end?" Shouto whimpered quietly.
His tears ran unyieldingly, he watched as the blood was lifted off his arm and wisped through the icy lake like smoke, leaving nothing but a fresh pink wound behind for Shouto to stare at. It was a wicked shape. It twisted and had sharp edges, making it look like it was grinning at him. Shouto could almost hear the whispers coming back but this time they weren’t around him, they were from the deep cut in his arm. It felt like it was talking to him, or rather, warning him. The vibrations from the voices grew harsher and harsher, forcing the wound open, first revealing bright red flesh then digging deeper to show the pinkish white bone making a gaping hole in his arm.
Shouto screamed in agony but no one could hear him. Not even Shouto himself. Fear came like Tokoyami’s dark shadow and wrapped him in a blanket, only that this blanket wasn’t soft and comforting. It had thorns inside, poisonous thorns that pricked Shouto all over. He watched his limbs puff up and the skin around the hole in his arm had swollen so much that he couldn’t even see there had been one. Shouto continued to swell until his body felt light and he thought he might just be able to float to the surface of the water and breath. But he was mistaken. More bubbles escaped his mouth and he sank. His shackles wrenched his under and the floor swallowed him up making him sink further into his mind’s prison. He tried to fight it but he couldn’t. It dragged him down as he thrashed around still trying to scream, knowing it was pointless.
Shouto was no longer in the water, instead he was suspended in something much thicker than it. It was harder to breathe and he could barely see an inch in front of him. He hated the voices and whispers but this was far too silent. Shouto couldn’t even hear the sound of his own heartbeat. Shouto tried to curl up into a ball but his swollen body wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t scream for help. What could he do? Everything hurt and his vision blurred. He was barely conscious of his limbs deflating back to their normal state and that he was slowly floating out of the darkness. Before the surface came back into view his eyes rolled back and everything went black.
Shouto awoke in cold sweat on the floor, unsure of how long he had been there. His head was pounding and his teary eyes were painfully dry from crying. A small burst of energy gave him the will to sit up but as he did, a searing pain shot up through his arm. Suddenly, swift flashbacks from the night before returned to his mind. Frantically, he began scanning the room for any signs of a knife or sharp object. Nothing. Though somewhat relieved, Shouto’s breathing was still uneven as he dropped his hand to his side. He flinched, feeling uneasy, and lifted his hand under which a small detached blade from a sharpener protruded from in between the tiles. His breathing sped up and he could hear his heart in his ears. Slowly, he reached for his sleeve with a trembling hand and shut his eyes, afraid to look.
This can’t be happening. It was a dream. Just a bad dream.
Shouto pulled up his sleeve and sat stationary for a few seconds, letting the ache recede. He peeked from one eye and let out a shaky breath, tears escaping his eyes and sliding down his face, landing softly on the flaking brown blood that coated his arm. He’d done it again and didn’t even remember. Thankfully his blanket had soaked up all the blood and he could pretend he had retained an injury and forgot to go to Recovery girl. He made a mental note to go see her later.
He stood up and looked at the Japanese door to the balcony but the glass was caked in frost, making it impossible to see outside. It was probably jammed so trying to open it would be a waste of time, he didn’t feel like using his fire and waking everyone else up. Shouto definitely felt too exhausted to get up but he didn’t really have a choice. He would either have to clean up or get caught; the decision was obvious. He yawned and gathered his blood-soaked blanket and a towel as he walked over the clothes littered on the floor, making his way to the door. Soundlessly, he opened it and tiptoed to the restroom down the hallway, dropping his blanket off in the laundry basket with a sorry note next to it. He felt bad for whoever had to wash that. He looked away and entered the restroom, immediately stepping in a puddle of water. Someone had let the sink overflow in here last night and now his socks were soggy. Normally he would be annoyed but right now he had worse things to worry about than cold feet that he could easily warm up.
Shouto walked to one of the sinks, leaving wet footprints behind him, and turned on the tap, running his arm under cold water, then looking at it again and turning the tap as hot as it could go. It burned, but at least the blood was coming off. He wasn't even disgusted by it, it should have made him sick but it didn’t. It didn’t even scare him that he had gotten used to feeling so...empty. The only time he felt anything was when he bled and when he slept. He never admitted it but the reason he didn’t fight Bakugou properly in the sports festival was because it felt good getting some sense beaten into him again. He hated using his fire, he was mad at himself for listening to Midoriya and using it, he had let his father win. He knew it was his own power but it still felt like a betrayal to his own morals. Even now, when he seemed to be using it a lot more, he was holding back, he was being held back, by the constant image and hatred of Endeavour.
When he slept he mostly felt fear and had nightmares about various things: his mother burning him again, his mother being abused by Endeavour, his other staying behind but then becoming like Endeavour and still hating the sight of him, his parents finding out his secret that he liked... regardless he was unable to stay asleep for long enough, but when he bled… It was a whole mix of emotions: anger, guilt, regret, sadness. Of course he didn’t like any of these but it was better than feeling nothing so he continued. Why couldn’t he stop hurting himself?
He had tried to stop before but he just couldn’t. The urges came when he was least prepared and took advantage of his weaknesses. He knew he was doing it himself but he didn’t want to accept the blame, so instead he remembered a nightmare, only to wake up and find out it wasn’t all part of his imagination. He looked up at his reflection and was repulsed. His skin looked dry and the shadows under his eyes made it obvious how little sleep he had been getting, while his hair was sticking out at odd angles making him look like Bakugou and Kirishima electrocuted. Staring back at him, he saw that same figure with those blank and empty eyes, with that same poker face, void of emotion. He tried to cover his left eye and force a smile but he could still see bits of his scar from below his fingers and his ‘smile’ was crooked. Even Bakugou could manage a more normal looking smile, even the league of villain's could smile better than Shouto (creepy but not crooked), All Might's entire personality was smiling and Midoriya...his smile came as naturally to him as breathing.
Shouto grumbled and went back to his tight-lipped expression. He looked back at his arm to see that the blood had washed off but the wound hadn’t formed a scab yet, and the skin around it was stained pink from the blood having not been washed off sooner. He hesitated before switching the tap back to cold so that the stinging would stop then sealed up the wound with his ice. He stripped off his clothes and went to take a quick shower, hoping no one would hear the noise. He really didn’t have the energy for this.
He stood there for a few minutes with his eyes closed and head tipped back letting the warm water flow over his shivering body. Showers were exhausting just like almost everything else but they helped clear his mind. The temporary peace only lasted a few seconds before the water reached his forearm and the stinging sensation from the cut returned once again filling his mind with the horrors that awaited him if he was to be discovered. He immediately started thinking up ways to hide his arm and the pain so that no one would question it. While he could just go to Recovery Girl, he knew she had a duty to tell the teachers about his ‘injury’ and he couldn’t let word reach his father. It was normal enough for students to get hurt at U.A. High school, Midoriya for example basically broke his arm every other day before the internships and was basically in and out of the infirmary on a daily basis. It was basically a routine. Still, The uniforms already had long sleeves; he could just wear hoodies outside school hours. It was winter after all, no one could blame him. But what about sport? It couldn’t be helped, he would have to apply concealer on his arm and add a thin sheet of ice over it to prevent it from coming off. He could only hope that it didn’t break or melt and if it did then he prayed that he was able to regenerate his ice fast enough. He was almost scared to look at his arm but he did, just once, before turning off the shower and drying herself off. He grabbed his pyjamas and walked back to his dormitory, dropping the pyjamas in the laundry basket too.
He walked into his room and ditched his bathrobe, switching it for loose black shorts and a grey t-shirt. He would much rather stay in bed and sleep till school but a run would do him good right now. He needed to let off some steam, not that he couldn't do that while sitting in his room. He let the enticing idea of staying indoors play in his head then quickly batted it away, he hadn't gone through all that training to be the number one hero just to lay in bed and sleep. Shouto bit his lip, he may have started to use his fire but he refused to go as far as to be grateful to his father for 'training' him. He hated himself for thinking of his father right now, he almost wanted to go back to sleep just to spite him, but Shouto was better than that. He slipped on his running shoes and ran out of the dorms, he wanted to go to the woods but he didn't want to ask for leave from any of the teacher's. He didn't want anyone to know where he was. He headed for the Beta field, if he went for a run there then no one would be suspicious. It would be monotonous but he could deal with that.
The sky outside was a darkish blue, the sun still hadn't risen and the stars were still visible. Shouto assumed it was around 4 in the morning, nobody else would be awake right now, he thought. He jogged to the Beta field, everything had been silent except the sound of his own breathing and footsteps which seemed to echo through the school grounds. He had thought of using his ice on the race track but figured that making that much commotion first thing in the morning would probably draw a lot of attention to himself and he couldn't risk having anyone ask what he was doing. He had maintained a poker face so far but he felt like he would cry if anyone so much as asked if he was alright. He couldn't let anyone see the son of Endeavour, the to be number one hero, crying like a fucking baby. He prayed that Midoriya didn't decide that this was a good time to go meet All Might, he couldn't risk being seen like this. Knowing him Midoriya would probably forget what he was doing and run over to Todoroki just to say hello and start a conversation that had never been planned. With his heightened sense and caring nature, it probably wouldn't be long before he noticed something was off with Shouto, though he wouldn't give it much thought, Shouto knew Midoriya would tuck it away in his brain and start unconsciously analysing him. As intriguing as he found Midoriya’s little habit of noting down people’s actions to the letter, Shouto didn’t want to be one of those people. Although he suspected he already was considering how much research Midoriya did on powerful heroes and students alike. He didn’t doubt for a second that Izuku had dedicated many pages of his notebook to Shouto during the sports festival. It kind of flattered him. Midoriya had his own little way of charming Shouto, maybe he could trust him? Maybe he could finally tell Deku how he felt? He felt his cheeks heat up. What was he thinking!
He bit his trembling lip, no one could know what was going on with him, especially not the things he thought about Midoriya Izuku. This was his burden to bear and his alone, no one else could understand what he was going through, not even him. None of the others had gone through what he had and they certainly couldn't have had feelings for people of the same gender. Could they? No, that was absurd, he couldn't charge them with that knowledge and then make them feel obliged to help him, no, that was beyond cruel. He brushed away his thoughts and tears that had reformed, why was he like this? He continued to jog around the race track under the pink sky. Perhaps one day the sun would rise for him too.
Thank you for reading IcyHot Mess chapter 1!!!