Shouto Todoroki
Two days had passed since Todoroki's encounter with Bakugou, and it had been established that the two would rendezvous at eight in the morning every morning before school. Todoroki detested Bakugou's meet-up stipulation, but he detested himself more for earning himself what he viewed as an inexpedient yet well-deserved punishment.
The morning prior, Todoroki hadn't answered his calls and texts from Bakugou due to being far too enthralled with slicing his wrist open, and thus, such a deplorable truth had been expeditiously discovered by Bakugou. Todoroki had denied cutting or hurting himself, but upon being requested to prove his claim by Bakugou, his blithe lies swiftly deteriorated. It was then that Bakugou presented to Todoroki the option to either meet in the kitchen at eight every morning before school, or to schedule a doctor's appointment.
Once Todoroki approached the kitchen in the Heights Alliance building, he snarled at himself, Pretend like you want to get better. Stop spitting out the truth. What's wrong with you? Why did you let him know? Useless. That's all you ever are! Just act like you'll go along with whatever he wants. He smiled and waved at Iida and Uraraka after they'd greeted him. Don't ask unnecessary questions. Don't answer personal questions truthfully. Don't overthink things like you always do. Oh. Iida...
"Hungry?" Bakugou's voice arrested Todoroki's immediate attention.
My physical strength is all I really have going for me, Todoroki reminded himself in a jumbled staccato of thought. I've gotten weaker. I've lost weight. I've lost my appetite. But this time, it's not on purpose. I want to live up to my expectations. People will see me as a strong person instead of the weak person I really am. I didn't answer his question. Every second of my silence is just another cut waiting to be made. Bakugou, I will tear myself apart for every mistake until I forget why I'm mindlessly abusing myself. That's just what I want to do.
Finally, Todoroki forced himself to utter, "Not right now. Thanks, though." He plastered on a thin smile.
Bakugou seemed to stifle a scowl. "You should still eat something," he bluntly remarked.
You're right. Play along. Make him believe you're on the path to recovery. Just keep showing the fake personality. Be the person he wants you to be. Right.
"I guess you're right," Todoroki conceded.
Before long, Todoroki and Bakugou strolled into class and settled into their seats. Crystalline rivulets adorned the windows from the rain, and Todoroki found himself entranced by the tranquil pattering of the raindrops; his detached stare seemed to seep beyond the stretches of the window he faced.
I suddenly have the motivation to write a poem, Todoroki realized while retrieving a sheet of paper from his bag rather than listening to Aizawa speak to the class, but I don't know what I'd make it about. Rain. Water. Puddles. Clouds. Pitter patter. Splish splash.
By the time that the bell for lunch greeted Todoroki, he was unable to recall the predominant masses of information he'd absent-mindedly listened to during class. He figured that he would revile himself for the arduous extra task later, and with that, he remained seated at his desk to finish the poem he'd written.
I never know how to end poems, Todoroki inwardly maundered while a figure encroached on his peripheral vision. I always fuck it up. From beginning to end, it's all a mess, but the words are my feelings and thoughts nonetheless. I wonder—
"Oi, Scar Fa... Icyhot, you goin' to lunch?" Bakugou asked while leaning up against Todoroki's desk and canting his head.
"Maybe," Todoroki replied aridly.
Bakugou deftly flicked the paper Todoroki had been writing on towards himself. "What've you been working on all—"
Todoroki swung his hand towards the paper that Bakugou pilfered. "Don't read that," Todoroki implored his classmate. "Bakugou."
Squinting his eyes and furrowing his brows, Bakugou whirled around and batted Todoroki's hand away. "What is it?" nonchalantly inquired the ash-blonde.
Don't read it. You're smart. I don't want you to brood over it and decipher it. I just needed to purge my thoughts without consulting anyone.
"It's...a poem."
"Hah? Didn't know you were into poetry. Lemme read it."
"I'd really prefer it if you didn't."
"Why?"
"I just... I don't... It's... I... Shit..."
How can you fuck up one sentence four times in a row?! Another four cuts you'll be adding to your wrist tonight. You never learn. Only trash that has no worth is incapable of learning.
"Oi, oi..." Bakugou clasped onto Todoroki's hand and tore it away from Todoroki's shoulder. "Take a deep breath. Don't beat yerself up over not being able to verbalize yer thoughts. No fuckin' rush. Step back and breathe. No one's timing you on a response. Take all of lunch to find the words for all I care." His insouciance flicked through Todoroki's brows.
A twinge of pain wriggled into Todoroki's chest. I don't want to hear that deadly kindness. You either want something from me or want to gain my trust just to stab me in the back later on. I don't want kindness. I don't trust kindness. Kindness is just a universal weapon for manipulation and control.
"Sorry. You don't have to be so kind, though. I guess...you can read it. I took up enough of your time as it is. Just...don't think about it too much."
Rain
Voices without words culminate overhead.
The impending roar of thunder fractures what's said.
Antithetical screams clash into the stratosphere.
Nugatory vocalizations drip down out of fear.
Screams rain from the sky.
Fragile raindrops explode and fly.
Swayed by the winds of idealism.
Ensnared by divinity in this glass prism.
Truth and lies shatter on the ground of judgment.
Liquidate the traitorous form for it to repent.
Descend into your formless fate!
Submit to the hell you'll sate!
The rain is whetted before it falls.
Gray blades beaten down as the wind crawls.
The words obscure the sky with falsified lies.
Beat the words into feelings none will recognize.
The rain is no longer rain when it hits the ground.
All feelings, words, and thoughts coalesce without a sound.
Distinct ideations dissolve into indifferent puddles.
The true reflection is what the world muddles.
All meanings melt into meaningless amalgamations.
Distorted indifference is what becomes of the correlations.
The world within the puddle is neither true nor fake.
It exists but reflects and distorts all it can take.
The rain swallows up what remains.
Achromatic monotony runs through its veins.
The sky peers down at the crystalline plaque.
The warped world's reflection can only stare back.
YOU ARE READING
Facade | Suicidal Todoroki x Bakugou
Fanfiction"Why is it that my indifference is both my chair and my noose?" Todoroki has lied about being fine to the point where he's replaced his true face with the facade he wears, but one day, an encounter with Bakugou changes his life. Will this encounter...
