𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐒 | bakutodo

TWENTY ONE

| 𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗹 𝗶 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 - 𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗻𝗲 |

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗺, (𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗱) 𝘀𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲, 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗲, 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝘂𝘀𝗲

𝗸𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗯𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼𝘂'𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄;
shit.

that was the only way to describe how i felt.

absolutely fucking dogshit.

hot tears ran down my pale face as blood trickled down my arms and legs, fresh slits littering my wrists and thighs.

the spliff in my right hand wasn't exactly what i needed, nor were the i'd say half a dozen of empty beer bottles sat next to me.

my bathroom had the stench of rust and citrus, and the blood all over my tiles was much more than just overwhelming.

but what else could i do?

run away? where would i get the money?

go to my dad? as fucking if. he only uses me to benefit his company.

call shouto? well.. i could. but i don't want him seeing me like this. he doesn't realise how much of a mess i am yet.

i rested my phone on my lap, my shaky index finger hovering over shouto's contact number. but at the last second i just let out a groan of frustration, throwing my phone to the side which most definitely cracked the screen.

i felt.. angry. was it anger? that bubbling feeling in my chest? was that anger? or anxiety?

none the less, i found myself picking up my blade again. like my body was deciding for me. not like my head could, anyway. no matter how many times i promised myself i'd stop cutting, i couldn't. it was the only way i could cope with everything.

because the last time i refused to use a blade during a time like this, i almost strangled myself to death. right here, on my bathroom floor. but now, i almost felt like i had a purpose to live. despite the abuse, and the depression, and the addiction, and the crime, i felt like i had a reason to stay just a little longer. and that was because of shouto. shouto was my light in the darkness.

but relying on him was stupid.

i brought the blade up to the back of my arm where there was still space, gliding it along the skin in one harsh and brisk motion. i hissed, watching little droplets slowly bubble up to the surface of my skin. it was addictive. so addictive, i felt like if i didn't do more, i would go insane.

so i kept doing it, until my entire forearm had no more space. i picked up my seventh bottle of beer, ripping open the cap despite it tearing my skin of my palm open. i brought the bottle up to my mouth like it was the last bottle of water i'd ever drink, gulping it down.

i felt myself cough as i slammed the bottle down a little too hard, the brown glass shattering in my grasp.

fuck.

i was a mess.

what the hell was i doing?

i felt my phone vibrate from across the room. i slowly reached over, picking it up, which had a now shattered screen. it was shouto. i couldn't ignore him. what if he was in trouble? what if it was important?

*accept*

"bakugou?" he sounded stressed.

"yeah." my voice sounded unhealthily raspy. like someone had cut up my vocal cords.

"are you okay?"

"that's a weird question to ask." i mused, taking another inhale of my spliff.

"i had a feeling that something was wrong." he sighed. i could almost picture him running a hand through his hair. something he does when he's stressed.

"uh, define 'wrong'." i coughed afterwards, the sound of metal scraping against broken glass filling his speakers.

"...you're not okay are you."

"guess not." i shrugged, exhaling the addicting taste of cannabis.

"i'm coming over." was the last thing he said before he hung up.

no. he can't. shit.

i fumbled with my phone, trying to text him. but the blood and cracks on my screen practically made it impossible.

he can't come over. my mom's home.

i felt my breathing increase. if my mom sees him, god knows what will happen. i was panicking. definitely.

but before i could panic anymore, i felt my limbs loosen up and my breathing become shallow, unable to keep my eyes open. ah shit.

;

"-gou."

"-kugou."

"damnit. katsuki!"

i jolted awake, realising shouto was infront of me. i felt a surge of panic, reaching up to check his face. "are you okay? are you hurt?" he sighed, taking my bloody hand in his. "i think i should be asking you that."

i looked down at myself. blood. alcohol. glass. bruises. weed. all of it.

"oh," i mumbled. "nah. i'm fine." i reassured, trying to stand myself up. but i failed. my back and legs stiff as ever. "i think not." shouto sighed. moving over to pick up the empty beer bottles. i wanted to help. tell him i could do it myself. but i couldn't. why?

"..did my mother run into you?"

"no," i sighed in relief. "i climbed through the window."

i watched him clean up the mess, finally getting to the bloody blade next to me. he picked it up, studied it, and then placed it on my shelf instead of throwing it away.

he then took my first aid kit, zipped it open, and began disinfecting my cuts with wipes. it stung a little, and i would hiss when he went over the deeper cuts.

he didn't bandage them, because he knew it would sting like hell. so he simply sprayed it with some more disinfectant before gently massaging some healing ointment around the gashes.

"come on." he whispered, helping me up and supporting my weak body to my bed. he lifted the sheets and helped me under them. he sat himself next to me as he stroked my hair.

"shouto?" he hummed. "do you hate me now?"

he looked taken aback, staring at me with worry. "no. why would i hate you?" i gestured towards my body. "seeing that. does that not disgust you?"

"of course not." a hand cupped my cheek. "it hurts me. more than anything, to see you like that. but my love for you will never waver." he leaned down to press a tender kiss to my lips.

"that's a promise."