Shouto Todoroki
You couldn't even write a positive poem, Todoroki internally vilified as the pulsating urge to tear himself apart consumed his mind. It was a bagatelle, and yet, you still managed to fuck it up! What's wrong with you?! Why can't you do something right for once in your life?! He locked himself into a vacant stall in the nearest bathroom and began to mercilessly rip his nails through his arms. You're hardly breaking your skin. You can't even damage yourself right.
Todoroki could feel his skin being torn off and wedged beneath his fingernails as splatters of scarlet besmeared his fingers and swirled across his arms. From wrist to elbow and shoulder to elbow, Todoroki perforated his flesh with gashes and streaks of blood that almost appeared to be black. He could feel his blood crawling between the crevices around his nails and snaking down to his wrists.
Why is it that I only feel 'better' after I've torn myself apart? Todoroki couldn't help but wonder once his manic rush of self-mutilation began to diminish. It's better than when I felt like the world itself wanted me to die. I wanted to live, but my mind urged me to die, and my body was dying. When I wanted to die, my mind looked for reasons to live, and my body fought to keep going on. He disinfected and wrapped up his self-inflicted injuries from the medical supplies he'd crammed into his bag. Then, it all faded into numbness. It's why I can get up. Yet, it's also what's killing me slowly. It's what makes me feel like I'm fine, but then, everything becomes what feels 'fine' to me. Is that really fine?
With a drawn-out sigh, Todoroki equipped himself with his fresh sangfroid and stepped out of the bathroom stall. He'd begun to feel the belligerent pangs of pain from the lacerations scattered across his arms, but it was at that moment that an epiphany struck Todoroki down.
I gave up on chasing after the lie that is my 'true' feeling of happiness. The beautiful moments in life end up being reminders that I could never deserve them, grasp onto them, or truly understand them. I hate them. Happiness...is just some kind of preparation for the worst. It's meant to be shattered in front of you when you need it the most. If I perpetually subject myself to nothing but pain and misery, I'll be used to it all. I'm getting there. My 'happiness' is the pain—
Todoroki pulled open the door to the bathroom to reveal a plume of ash-blonde awaiting his departure. Acutely aware that Bakugou likely suspected the worst, Todoroki forced a neutral reaction.
"Oh. I guess I should apologize for running off," Todoroki proposed while retaining his facade. "I felt a bit sick. I'm fine now." He nodded, but as he stepped forward, Bakugou grasped his hand. "Do you...need something?"
Rather than providing a response, Bakugou began to drag Todoroki towards the dormitory. He plodded into the Heights Alliance building as though to file a complaint, and after arriving at his own dorm, Bakugou was impeded not by dubiety as he pinned Todoroki to the ground. With a glare that burned so frigidly, Bakugou simply stared his impassive opponent down.
"Tell me the truth..." growled Bakugou like a sizzling, dim flame.
"I did," Todoroki sighed with candid mundanity, but his answer was rewarded with Bakugou curling his nails into Todoroki's wrists. "You know the cuts from a few days ago and yesterday haven't healed, right?" His expression twitched from the burning jabs of pain screaming in his wrists.
Why are you doing this to me? pondered Todoroki while the pain in his wrists was insidiously augmented by Bakugou. You dragged me all the way here just to sink your nails into the places where you know it'll hurt the most. I just needed an outlet for the thoughts going through my head. I'm not going to admit to cutting myself. He exhaled sharply and wriggled in Bakugou's tenacious grasp. I know I've been cutting daily. That's just how fucking weak and pathetic I am. But I can't escape from the voices screaming in my head for me to do it. Giving in is the only way to silence them, and even then, it's temporary. Back to being dependent on my old habits once again. Back to feeling so helpless. Back to drowning in those voices. Back to falling into another endless loop. When...does it end?
"Just tell me the truth, Shouto Todoroki." Bakugou's austere gaze was unwavering and fierce.
Todoroki shook his head, and Bakugou added his weight into the force of his grip. "I don't...care about what you do to me. I'm not telling you."
It's not okay for me to hurt myself, but it's okay for you to hurt me? Is that how it is? Is that how worthless I am to you?
Bakugou curled back his lips as his brows were singed with the shadows from his creased forehead. "If that's true, then you wouldn't care if I took off your blazer and undershirt, would you?"
"I wouldn't care," Todoroki replied through gritted teeth.
Chagrined hesitation washed over Bakugou's countenance, but he nonetheless proceeded to remove the top half of Todoroki's uniform; bandages which concealed the damage Todoroki had pierced his skin with wound around Todoroki's arms. "I ain't takin' the bandages off," Bakugou admitted in a husky, defeated whisper. "And I'm done hurting you. I shouldn't have in the first place. Oi. Sit up." He released Todoroki and allowed the latter to maneuver into sitting upright. "Since horrible shit doesn't seem to faze you... Lemme see if good shit from the opposite end of the spectrum'll do the trick. Like this..."
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...
