Bakugou was laying in bed. His dorm was quite and lonely. He no longer had that ball of sunshine to brighten up his day. He no longer had a reason to be number one hero. That was his only purpose. All he wanted was to prove to izuku how much of a better hero he was than him. But what hero is he now if he couldn't even save him? He had pushed away all his friends, failed all his tests and had done little to no effort on the battle field. His life had no purpose.
He found himself sobbing each and every night. Ever since the 'incident' he had been having real bad nightmares. I know right ,how pathetic could he be to be afraid of a bad dream. But in reality these were much more than 'bad dreams'. He had dreams about that night. The cold night that he had lost izuku. Well at least his soul. He remembered all the pain he felt. All the tears he shed. The shaking of his hands. His last words. The way his eyes drooped before finally closing and never opened since. It wasn't just bad dreams, it was memories too.
He had read izuku's journal. Over and over again. Each and every love letter he had wrote to him , each and every suicide letter too. His heart shattering every time, yet it was the closest thing he had to hearing the boy's voice.
He had also come to realise that there were quite a view venting letters. In them he would describe how horrible of a day he had and then describe how much better he felt after resulting to injuring himself. On some of the pages there were even blood streaks as well as a view droplets. Bakugo's heart ached at the idea of him being in so much pain for so many years. He had completely taken out all the happiness inside of izuku. He had ruined his life. He had caused him pain. He had been the reasone for his attempt. He needed to pay for that. So he did what he knew all too well. Something he had made izuku promise over and over again to never do again. Something that he himself was scared of.
He walked over to the bathroom, opening the cupboard to reveal the all to familiar box of spare shaving Blades.
You see, Bakugo had been wanting to do this for a long time. He was always just too persistent, too proud, too scared...to do it. These thoughts first appeared a month after izuku had fallen into his coma. He had tried to shove the nagging thought away, he knew izuku would be horrified if he knew he ever even thought of doing the same. But , izuku was no longer here. And the thoughts had came after he had been gone. There would be no way he'd ever find out. Its not like he'd wake up soon.
[TW]
So there bakugo sat. On the floor with his back against the wall. Blade in hand, sleeve pulled up. He never thought of the day he'd be the one in this position. Tears were dripping down his cheeks freely. He had to do this. He deserved it after everything he had put izuku through. He deserved to feel the equal amount of pain that izuku had felt for years. He had tortured him, and now he would have to be punished. He needed to do this.
He took the blade and hesitantly hovered it over to just under his wrist ( like the middle of his arm) he took a shaky breath as he placed the blade down onto his soft , scar-less skin. His eyes squeezed shut.
"You are nothing but a useless nerd." He said proudly as he hovered over the younger izuku who had tears spilling across his cheeks. His hair was a mess and his nose was bloody. An old bruise stained his chin a dark purple color. "Go take a swan dive off the roof of the building and hope that you'll be born with a quirk in your next life." The crying boy had nodded to that answer. It was barely noticeable but it was there.
Bakugo's eyes opened as his brows were furrowed tightly. He knew what he had to do. He pressed down on the blade, causing it to dig into his skin. The sharp edge poking and tearing his skin as he dragged it. A muffled hiss escaping his lips as the tears kept flowing. It hurt. Allot. The blade came to a stop. His breaths were quick and his eyes burned. He looked down at his pain filled arm to see a rather short cut. It stung as small droplets of red formed. Drying almost immediately. He had only now realised how much it had hurt izuku every time. His cuts were much much deeper, some going crisscross over each other. His cuts bled for hours on end and bakugo couldn't even handle one small cut. His body and mind were fighting. His mind told him he deserved the pain, and that he needed to add another. But his body told him no, stop, this isn't good for you. He tried to add another but his shaky hands made him nervous. It hurt to much. He couldn't.
So he stopped. He threw away the blade and pulled down his sleeve. A sting traced the line on his arm as the fabric slid across it. Another muffled hiss came frome him. He had no idea it hurt that much. He thought back to every scar that covered izuku's skin. Each carrying a hurtful story. He couldnt even begin to imagine the pain that he must have felt every time he had done this. Every time he had cleaned them himself. Every time he had hid it. Every time he had fought while carrying those cuts on his body like a second skin. It overwhelmed him to think about.
He walked back over to his bed. Getting into the comfortable sheets. He rolled around a few times, trying to find a way to comfortably fall asleep. He was exhausted. His eyes felt like lead as they slowly inched closer to each other. Each blink becoming slower every time. Until finally, he didn't open his eyes again.
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Total words: 1 063
Sorry its so short. Next chapter is coming soon!
