Facade | Suicidal Todoroki x Bakugou

18 | One More

Shouto Todoroki

I realized something... Todoroki cerebrated while Bakugou insinuated him into a snug embrace. I didn't follow through with my plans. I didn't end it. I told myself I'd give it one more day, but then, I just kept going. Why? What's my reason to stay? I can't think of one, and yet, something is holding me back. He attempted to wriggle out of Bakugou's arms, but his attempt was futile. Why am I not repulsed by this? If that's not the way I feel, I'll burn it into my mind.

"Bakugou?" Todoroki slowly hooked his ring finger with Bakugou's thumb. "If you plan on breaking me with kindness, it's...not going to produce the result you want. As it is, I... I just... I..." He winced in self-reproach. "In a way, you already did that. I can't find it in me to care about anything anymore. Why won't you treat me the way I want to be treated? What do you want from me?"

Bakugou twined their fingers together. "Like I said before, all I want is for you to get better. Todoroki, you act like everything is fine, and that you can get through it on your own, but that's such bullshit. Look at yourself... Tell me you're fucking fine again when your body's covered in bruises, scars, wounds, and so many self-inflicted cuts. When you can't even walk without limping. When you feel indifferent to everything. When you're not even happy. Todoroki, just admit it... You're not okay, and that's okay." He gently squeezed Todoroki's hand.

I'm fine. I'm just pathetic and weak. A mistake to the world. A burden to humanity. A failure to my own family. The urge to cut is ringing through my veins.

"I'm not admitting to what isn't true," Todoroki sighed in a monotonous, candid whisper. "Your views aren't mine. I'm fine. I'm happy. I'm okay." He was unable to feign even a plaintive smile. "But your kindness feels like a bullet to the temple."

Ire twitched in Bakugou's brows, but solace welled up in his eyes. "Todoroki...I want you to try and get some help." He enfolded Todoroki's warm, shaky hand into both of his hands. "I don't think you realize that what you're going through isn't fine or healthy. But I want you to be the one to recognize this and decide for yourself that this is gonna help you. That it's not just somethin' I'm trying to force onto you. But if this keeps going, I'm not gonna stand here and do nothing while you cut all over yourself behind the closed doors." A soft, subtle surge of a velvety pink mantled his cheeks. "If it wasn't already made clear, I..." Struck down by abject vacillation, Bakugou sank into silence for a moment. "Tch. I just want what's gonna help you for the future."

Look at how much time he's wasted on you, you useless fuck-up. "I guess I'll think about it. Thanks. Sorry for ruining the moment." His hollow, crestfallen gaze drooped down to descry Bakugou's hands as they deftly caressed his hand.

Not that hand. Todoroki abruptly retracted his left hand from being cradled by Bakugou's hands. Why didn't I realize sooner? Useless. Why are you so fucking useless? The moment he leaves, you need to pay up. You won't be leaving that bathroom until you add at least twenty more cuts.

"Shit, is your hand injured?" Bakugou queried, and immediately, Todoroki shook his head. "I don't believe that for one second. What happened?"

I'd rather end it all in front of you than admit the truth. "It's just scraped up from training constantly," Todoroki muttered dismissively.

"If that's the case, then what's so bad about showing me your hand?"

You fucked it up again. "You don't need to waste your time on triv—"

"It's not trivial to me, Todoroki," snarled the ash-blonde like a reverberating roar of thunder. "Then lemme just ask this... Is it self-inflicted?" The glimmering ferocity of his eyes seeped into Todoroki's skull like a thick, tepid liquid.

"No. I mean... It... I didn't... I-I..." Todoroki's head sank into the dim comfort of the valley between his knees. "It's...from a long time ago. I don't want to talk about it."

I want to scream. I want to cry. No matter what I do, I can't express that. I can't even cry. I can't smile. I can't laugh. I can't get rid of the feelings wrapped around my neck. I can't scream. It feels like I can't breathe. And yet, I'm not sad. I'm not mad. I don't feel anything. I don't fucking understand... How can it feel like my feelings are suffocating me when I don't feel anything? What's wrong with me? How can I not understand myself?

Upon wading back to the shore of reality from the seething sea of his thoughts, Todoroki realized that Bakugou was holding him fast. Nonplussed, Todoroki felt as though he would surely shatter into a miserable, weeping fountain of tears and desperate sobs, but all he felt was the weight of his unshed tears and swallowed screams. He opened his mouth in an attempt to force out a scream or a cry—anything at all that would herald his frantic plea for help to Bakugou—but all he could do was stare with twitching, wide eyes at the futon he sat upon.

Bakugou, what did you do to me? Todoroki internally wailed. I have to get out. Let go. Let me go. How can it be that one hug feels like the equivalent of a thousand bullets perforating my chest? I can't accept this. Stop. I don't deserve this! I deserve to fucking suffer. Is that why I haven't chosen to end things yet? Because I want to suffer for all the things I've fucked up, yet I proceed to get tangled up in the things I've fucked up because I chose to live? I can't escape...

"Bakugou?" Todoroki whispered as though his mind wasn't being ravaged by reality. "I'll be right back." He gently nuzzled his head against Bakugou's shoulder before squirming free of the noose of love that Bakugou ensnared him in.

With that, Todoroki swiftly strode into his bathroom, locked the door, and feverishly began to slash into his left wrist with a serrated shard of glass. Useless. Worthless. Failure. Mistake. Waste of time. Waste of space. Waste of a life. Good-for-nothing. Pathetic. Hypocritical. Dishonest. Disgraceful. Disrespectful. Stupid. Indignant. Fake. Burden. Wasted potential. Lazy. Embarrassment. Weak. Petty. For each coruscating phrase he'd reviled himself with, he tore into his wrist with the glass blade again. One more. Foolish. One more... One more. Dammit. Now look at what you've done. HOW USELESS CAN YOU BE?!

All Todoroki could recall before his consciousness drained away with the blood his wrist cried out with was stumbling towards the door and collapsing against it.