𝙸'𝚖 𝚂𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍.

~17~

Hello. I'm pretty burnt out with school and stuff (to whoever invented math, I will haunt you the day I die) and I'm probably not gonna post next week. Other than school I have reading to do since I've been studying a few authors to help my writing. Im also doing a bit of drawing and working on another story. Head hurts and yeah.

Anyways I'm sorry for dumping my problems on ya. Enjoy the chapter :)

Also, sorry for late post.

[Unedited]

He had a few broken bones, nothing too extreme and nothing that couldn't be cured. However, that didn't really bother Shoto, nor did the thought of his whole Hero Career shattering before him like rose petals on a windy day.

What bothered him was the fact he was seen in a way he didn't expect people to see. Once Shoto had regained consciousness, everybody looked at him with trembled bodies and widened eyes.

No one looked at him in shame, no one looked at him in disappointment. He even remembered the hitching of the nurse's breath when he flinched to fix his posture as they tried to fix his IV.

Even when he did something normal, like shuffling and moving with groans of pain, everyone was always on alert. As if at any moment he was going to attack. Widened eyes on him as police guards surrounded him like hawks; as if he was merely the feral animal in the circus yet to be put in the cage.

Something about that made him tremble at his own presence. Like a child too scared for the punishment they were about to face for stealing candy from the candy jar, but different. As if his own shadow that stared under him made him jump under his skin.

It was such sickening nostalgia. One that made him want to burn it all and throw the ashes to the river, never to be seen again.

Therapists and psychologists talked to him with worried glances and stiff fingers as their grip tightened, the sweat accumulating onto the pen.

When they would ask him questions, he would answer truthfully. And his voice was always calm and monotonous, even when it shouldn't have been. Once doctors had left, already finished checking his damaged bones, he would sit in the darkness of the sky with the police guards watching him.

Those were the times where he would pretend that the police and security standing there were just a figment of his imagination; his eyes darting from the dark nook where they stood to out the window, where he would politely ask the nurses to keep in view.

And as the autumn leaves fell from the trees—-waving the branches goodbye and kissing the cold cement hello, he would wonder if this was going to work. If the art he had so perfectly designed in his head was going to work out with real people. With real humans that weren't controlled by strings.

Shoto wondered if the dying and reliving, the pain and relief, the on and the off were really something he should be grateful he did in the first place. But the more he thought about it, the more obvious the answer became.

Touya Todoroki would never accept the coldness Shoto had onto his burns without his burns feasting on Shoto's flesh. It was kind of crazy, the thought of having to go through all of that in order to get the world he had desired.
A world where the moon kissed the world goodbye as it forever went to sleep, the sun and stars dancing on top of the sky, singing in joy because the darkness that would once take their spot would no longer have to.

That thought hushed him to sleep, the small little stars and the huge big sun danced around him the same way a crib mobile would in hopes that the moon would forever go to sleep the same way Izuku was.