Facade | Suicidal Todoroki x Bakugou

5 | Shattered

Katsuki Bakugou

The rattling clunks of the shower curtain being drawn open bit into Bakugou's skull. It was as though each metallic clunk was an incised chunk of metal being scraped and knocked across his teeth. Even the scent and taste of cold metal leaked into Bakugou's senses.

Once the curtain was whisked into a bundle at the far corner of the shower, Bakugou realized he was unable to gasp; his aching, burning lungs had already been choked with air. His eyes looked like the eyes of someone peering into a camera's flash. All he could do was silently stare at the poignant state of his classmate.

Shivering in the corner of the shower furthest from Bakugou, Todoroki was shirtless. His head was buried into his knees, his arms were laid upright and limp at his sides, and his entire body trembled violently with each breath he took. Purple splotches that were easily identified as bruises were painted across Todoroki's body like an infectious disease. Yet, most prominent of all was the blood winding down his arms and chest and slithering through the grooves of the shower floor. A glaring multitude of cuts lined Todoroki's arms, and even through the thicket of scarlet, Bakugou noticed the old scars poking through. Although Todoroki's visage was shrouded by his knees, it was as though his body was wailing and weeping in his silence and insouciance.

Bakugou felt as though his soul had shattered.

Oh my fucking God... was his first thought after comprehending the revelation that he'd sought after. Oh my fucking God... That's what I... Help him. Do something!

"Please...don't look at me..." Todoroki desperately supplicated while he began to face his back to Bakugou.

Torpefying pain swished through Bakugou's chest as he fleetingly panicked and stared vacantly at his classmate's bruised back. "Where are your towels and medical shit?" he finally managed to ask.

Todoroki pointed to the nearby cabinets. "It's fine," he whispered. "I don't need help. Bakugou, leave me alone."

It fucking hurts to know that this is the pain he feels, Bakugou realized while frantically compressing Todoroki's wounds. That this is how he treats himself. That this is just one of the problems he has to live through I see the old scars. I've seen him get finicky when it comes to his arms. He couldn't help but offer what appeared to be a sympathetic scowl. He's forcing himself through this. He's not fine. He's not just the quiet, reserved person that sits in the back of the class. But all I ever... No, all we ever see from him is his facade.

While Bakugou disinfected some of the lighter cuts streaking across Todoroki's arms, Todoroki's crumbling voice met his ears. "Bakugou...why are you doing this? You don't...get anything out of it. I'm...not worth your time unless you want something from me." His mien was still pressed into his discolored knees.

This is how he thinks? Fuck. It hurts to think he really fucking thinks this is all just to use him. Like he's an object. Just a drawer to reach into and add or subtract whatever without complaint. But why the hell are there bruises all over his body?

Bakugou lifted Todoroki's head, but rather than seeing tears streaming down Todoroki's cheeks, Bakugou saw a despondent, wilted expression. "Look at me," Bakugou innocuously growled in a whisper. "In the eyes, Todoroki. The only thing I want from you is for you to get better. You ever considered seein' a therapist? Or even just..." Another profound bullet tore through his chest at the notion that his own classmate was the current, unparalleled enemy and danger to himself. "You ever try a suicide hotline?" His heart sank at the penultimate word and final word of his question.

Todoroki shrugged. "I'm fine, Bakugou. I don't need help. I tried to get better before, but I... I-I just... I..." His brows dipped down as though he was abashed by his own senseless stuttering. "Forget what I said. Bakugou, this is what 'better' is for me." The ghastly hue mantling his cheeks almost seemed to drain the pigment from his eyes.

There are so many things I want to say to that bullshit, but he lost a lot of blood. He looks terrible. What I have to say can wait. But if this is what 'better' is for him, what was it like before? Do I even wanna know? Because this...is just painful to see.

"We'll talk about this later," Bakugou replied with a perfunctory sigh. "Lightheaded?" He fetched a washcloth from the cabinet and drenched it in cold water before wringing it out.

Todoroki seemed like he struggled to respond with the nod of his head.

"Oi. I'm gonna pick you up, 'kay?" He watched as Todoroki closed his eyes and nodded, and with that, he cautiously scooped Todoroki into his arms and laid him on the floor. "Nauseous?" He scrutinized Todoroki's twitching, blank expression while loosely setting the damp washcloth beneath Todoroki's neck.

Through his hefty breaths, Todoroki nodded again, so Bakugou began to rinse out the shower that had blood smeared across what felt like its every surface. As he did so, Bakugou descried the glint of something on the floor, and upon closer inspection, he identified the object as a shard of glass.

He was cutting with this, wasn't he? Bakugou cogitated while extracting another towel from the cabinet for Todoroki to rest his head on. Whatever this came from, that's like what we see him as—the unbroken, pristine whole. Really, he's shattered into countless shards. He presents himself as the unquestionable whole, but that's just a fucking lie that we can't see through—almost like an optical illusion. His smile's just a trick of the light. We all see it, but it's not really there.

Once he'd opened the small window in the bathroom, Bakugou knelt beside Todoroki and declared with his steadfast conviction, "You'll be okay."