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Izuku knew this couldn’t possibly continue. He knew it deep down inside him, in some hidden, huddled version of himself that he hid. If anyone found out about this part of him, this miserable, lost version of himself-well he wasn’t actually sure what anyone would do. But he knew that he’d get some pitying looks at the very least. And shock. How could someone as seemingly happy as him be so helplessly, hopelessly sad. And so horribly, wretchedly, monstrous.
“It’s ok, Izuku.” Shouto murmured, holding Izuku’s face with a gentle, soft love in his eys. A love Izuku wasn’t sure he deserved. “It’s ok. I don’t mind.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were large and soft and loving. They’d done this so many times before, and each time, Shouto looked at him with that same trusting gaze.
“But-“
“I promise, I’m ok with it.” Shouto whispered, brushing a single strand of deep green hair out of Izuku’s face. He was so kind, it ached. Shouto trusted Izuku, a trust that he’d spent so long building up. It’d taken time for them to become friends, and to tell each other the ins out of their lives. Their joys and their sadness, their loss and their hopes and dreams. All of it had taken time, hours upon hours of being there for each other and promises stacked on promises stacked on promises.
When they’d fallen in love it felt natural, like fate had decided for them that they were each other’s pillars, each other’s best friends. It only made sense for them to share everything, when they already shared the most intimate parts of their souls.
But Izuku was a magnet for disaster. It searched him out and found him in hidden corners and dark alleys. All he really wanted was a normal life, where he could write about heroes and villains and drink hot cocoa with his best friend on rainy summer nights, pressing soft, chocolate kisses onto each other, and pretend they had forever in the seconds they shared, bodies and souls intertwined with each other.
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Izuku had wished for the creatures he read about as a kid to be real. Werewolves, witches, vampires, all of them. A world filled with magic was a beautiful world, wasn’t it? He searched for magic in every corner of the Earth, seeing beautiful sights and exploring hidden treasures with Shouto. With his best friend. Part of him never really expected to find magic. Part of him believed the magic he’d found was within Shouto and himself-a secret whispered between the two of them.
But when magic found Izuku, it wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t wonderful or mystical. It wasn’t an adventure. It wasn’t anything he’d expected. Magic had found Izuku in the form of a stranger, sick in an alley. Shouto was paying for their dinner and told him to wait outside by the marble-slab fountain. The stars sparkled in Izuku’s eyes, and reflected on the cool water of the fountain somewhere in Italy. He was sure beyond anything that this was it. This was their spot, their place. He hadn’t told Shouto, but he’d found the ring stowed in his suitcase, carefully held in green velvet box. Izuku had simply smiled, his heart full, and pretended he hadn’t seen it. Shouto would tell him when he was ready.
But there was a stranger, in a shadowy alley across the street. They were throwing up, coughing and retching, and they’d sounded beyond miserable. Izuku knew that it was late, and he wasn’t stupid, but how could anybody who sounded so sick be any threat to him? Besides, Shouto would be out soon, and it really wouldn’t take long to make sure this stranger was ok.
Looking back, Izuku wished he could’ve left well alone. He would’ve gotten engaged to his best friend; they could’ve lived a perfect life. A life where magic existed only within the books Izuku wrote. A world where they got to love each other every second of every day till they were both old and grey.
“Are you ok?” He asked, approaching the stranger. He had one arm extended to help the man up from his crouched position. Izuku couldn’t remember the man’s face, but when he looked up, the only thing he could see was the starving, blood red eyes staring straight into him. Looking at him like he was food. It happened in seconds. Teeth tore into Izuku’s wrist, and hands scraped at him, clawed at him, pulled him to the ground and shoved his face into the concrete. Izuku could remember the pain-the fire that tore through his veins and burned through his soul and through his heart with a fury that held on and wouldn’t give up.
When he woke up, it didn’t hurt anymore. But everything had changed. His eyes were red, and his teeth were sharpened to a point. He wasn’t engaged to his best friend. He wasn’t at that fountain in Italy. But he was hungry. He was ugly. He was monstrous. It didn’t take him long to figure out what he needed. Human food made him nauseous at best, and threw him into a feverish state close to death at worst. He’d written enough books to know what this was. What he was.
Shouto was so good. So, kind. So, trusting. So, patient. And Izuku was a monster.
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“It’s ok, Izuku. It’s ok.” Shouto whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Izuku’s forehead.
“You really don’t mind?” He asked, with a slight lisp from talking around a mouth full of fangs. Izuku couldn’t look at Shouto. Couldn’t bear to see his beautiful blue-grey eyes. Couldn’t bear to see his kind smile, a smile that could send Izuku to his knees. All he could see was the array of scars on his neck. Scars usually hidden by turtle necks or scarves, and pain hidden by small smiles and kisses.
“I don’t mind,” Shouto said.
So Izuku leaned in, swallowed the fear screaming at him from the deepest parts of his soul and the dread, the wrongness of it all and sunk his teeth into Shouto’s neck.
At first Shouto screamed, then muffled it with a pillow. Izuku’s tears mixed with Shouto’s blood. Shouto, the love of his life. Shouto, his best friend. Shouto, who deserved so much better than a monster. Deserved so much better than him.
But Izuku couldn’t stop. Not till he’d gotten his fill. Not till his partner could barely stand, could barely talk. Could only sleep and nibble on the smallest bits of bread he could stomach.
Izuku was a monster.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about that ring, or that fountain, or that perfect dinner in Italy, when things were good. When their love didn’t demand Shouto’s sacrifice, and his health.
Izuku pressed soft, blood-stained kisses to his forehead, to his cheeks, to his lips. Izuku kissed every part of Shouto with all the love he had in him. Though he wasn’t sure what a monster’s love was worth. More for him, than Shouto, he held his boyfriend till he fell asleep, pale and exhausted, with blood trickling from puncture wounds in his neck, and he held him just a little more. A little more than he’d promised himself he would. A little more than he deserved.
Then, with one last kiss, he slipped from Shouto’s sleepy grasp, placed a single letter on the bedside table, and disappeared into the night.
Shouto would be better off. After all, monsters weren’t supposed to live within the caress of the sun, or the love of soft, kind, breakable humans. Monsters belonged in the dark.
And Izuku was, undoubtedly, a monster.