For you, I lie.

For you, I rest. (PART II)

What if Rumi never knocked on his door that night? What if he never survived the assault?... What if Dabi did kill him then and there? There's so many questions, but they wouldn't be answered unless Dabi had in fact killed him that night. That night he finally snapped and ruined what they had. Hawks knows this was his fate, of course he had to fall for a villain.

Sounds like a stupid fanfiction doesn't it? But once he wakes up from the hospital bed, he knows it wasn't a dream. He knows that they are no more, and will never be the same again. He hates that he has to wake up again and again. He hates that he has to suffer through this for his whole life. If only...

If only he had died. So much for him being the optimistic no. 2 hero. But if only if he had died, he wouldn't have had to be forced to be a hero, he wouldn't have met T- Dabi. He wouldn't have ever fallen in love. He would never have had to betray the league, if only he didn't exist from the mere start. He wouldn't have to suffer.

What a world I'm fighting for. He thinks as he sits up in the hospital bed, seeing the sun rise again, and medication on his side, waiting for him to take them all at once. He stares at the medication for a bit- reading the label; Antidepressants. He scoffs and attempts to push his dark thoughts aside. But... just what is he fighting for? His idol that he idealized for years is just as corrupt as the villains themselves, his wings are charred to a crisp, and the one person he loved, the one person that truly loved him for every weakness and strength, he betrayed.

He curls into a ball and cries as he forces himself to sleep another day off, wasting his life. He would rather much be in Touya's arms right now, cuddling as he plays with his hair and tells him it's going to be okay, that they're going to be okay. But he won't ever have that again. He just wants to...no. He wants to die... He can't ever be happy in this life, so why continue to live it? What does the future have in store for him if the only things he was ever looking forward to in life had simply crushed like that?

It's stupid to write a suicide letter, who's going to read it and actually give a shit? Sure his fans and possibly the hero commission would, but really, who's going to be the one to visit his grave every single morning, night, whatever the time? Some of the hero's might, but they're all professional and friendship relations. Not one that he can lie in the grave with, happy to go to the afterlife. Not his lover, not Touya or Dabi. Touya hates him, Dabi hates him, so what more does he have to keep living?

He wishes he had his wings right now, just to shield him from the cold, to shield him from the world. But since they're burned, he won't have that safety. Since he's alone, he won't have someone to feel safe with. Such a cruel way to go down, and he's only 22. He still has many years left, but why should he spend them if he's just going to be miserable? He should be happy to be alive, but why should he be alive if all that ever made him happy is gone? Burned to ash.

He pulls out the needle that's keeping him alive, dripping water and medication into his veins. He doesn't feel the pain, at least not yet. He stares at himself, and back at the needle, debating if this is really a good idea. When has any decision I've ever made been a good idea? He thinks as he shakes his head, and stabs his arm with the needle, scarring it from left to right, making more and more as he feels nothing, not even pain. He feels empty.

Empty.

That's right. That's all he is now. Empty. He has no reason to love, no reason to care, no reason to continue. He passes out as he sees more and more blood slide down his arm. "Heh... So that must be how he feels." He says before he passes out.

He wakes up a couple hours later and finds it to be very late at night. 11:00pm. Why should he go to sleep at this point. He's been in the hospital for so long now, there's really no chance he could possibly get out. No one has ever bothered to visit him, aside from notes Rumi left on his nightstand, wishing for him to get better soon and such. However, he doesn't smile at the notes, he doesn't cry, he just lies there and tosses them aside.

He sits back up with a crazy idea. He grabs a hospital document that has all his information on it, grabs a pen off the nightstand and starts writing a letter. To who? He doesn't know. The first person to read it he guesses. He jots down for who knows how long.

He's tired.

After hours of writing, he's finally finished. He looks back at the antidepressants as he thinks of an even crazier idea. He drops the whole container into his hand, and stares at it for a while. Red and blue pills. Every little thing is a reminder of what he once ruined. A reminder that he is a horrible person.

A reminder that he can never undo what he did.

He takes all the pills into his mouth, and waits for the warnings to take place. His stomach churns as he feels his vision going blurry. He lies back down as he feels his eyes flutter shut, breathing slower and slower with every minute. He looks over to the side and stares out the window. The city looks so pretty at night. Yet he won't be able to see it ever again.

So this is death. Alone, cold, and miserable. What a way to die. After all he's done, he won't ever be able to undo what he regrets. At least now, he can pay for his crimes. An eye for an eye, a life for a life.

So much for a world where heroes have time to kill.