Roses Are Red [Kiribaku]

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

The thing about hunching over all undignified, coughing up bullshit flower petals into a toilet in some bathroom stall, is that, generally, it's supposed to be a pretty private affair. It's draining. Confusing. Downright humiliating. Not something to show the world. And definitely not something to be interrupted.

But apparently, Half-n-Half didn't get the fucking memo. That bastard.

There he stood, drenched in sweat from what must have been his own workout, just... staring. His expression was so devoid of emotion that it was downright freaky, eyes not hesitating to stare into Katsuki's like the guy was trying to read him. And for several moments, Katsuki could only stare back, frozen, wide-eyed, horrified. It felt like his stomach had just dropped away.

"Leave," he finally managed to croak out.

Todoroki's head tilted. He took a step forward. "Bakugou—?"

"—Leave." Katsuki's voice erupted into a snarl, and for a moment, he tried to scramble to his feet, legs shaking, palms already beginning to smoke even as they pressed against the toilet seat for leverage. "Get out, you bastard! I'll—"

But before any semblance of a threat could cross his lips, before his quirk could fully ignite, another wave of coughing overcame him. He sank back to his knees as he hacked, bringing fingers to his lips a moment too late, unable to stop the petals that fell out between them. They fluttered down his front, one by one, deep scarlet piling on the tile floor.

Todoroki watched them fall curiously, eyebrows raised in surprise, and Katsuki wanted to scream. He wanted to yell, shout out curses at the world, but the roses wouldn't let him. They choked back his words, restraining him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. With a snap of his head, he lurched back over the toilet as even more petals forced their way out.

Katsuki's body continued to riot against the flowers with all of his strength, leaving his arms shaking, chest heaving, head swimming. It had never been this bad before. He had fucked up. His body just wanted to give out, give up. Along with the floral scent was a new taste tingeing the back of his tongue, sharp, metallic, blood.

Shit.

He had fucked up big time.

His eyelids were screwed shut so tight that swirls of white were starting to dance behind them, and he was only vaguely aware of a figure – fucking Todoroki, he reminded himself bitterly – approaching him, lowering to his level, a hand patting awkwardly against his back, as if that was going to help a single fucking thing. And Katsuki wanted nothing more than to fight against it, wanted nothing more than to be left to deal with this in peace. But his body was trembling so much, making him weak, and he couldn't do a single fucking thing about it.

With several quick gasps for air, the petals finally petered out. Katsuki watched as a string of saliva dripped from his mouth, red mixing with the clear, the strong taste of blood still lingering on his tongue. He inhaled as deeply as he dared, feigning black-out, before sitting back on his heels. But even that was too much effort, so finally, he collapsed to sitting, leaning his back against the stall wall, eyes shut as he just breathed, allowing the silence to settle around them.

And then, Katsuki wanted to laugh. Because that nosy bastard was still there, kneeling right next to him, probably still watching him like some fucking creep. Would he be disgusted? Just plain confused? This was already shaping up to be one of the shittiest situations in his entire life, but at least he had one thing to look forward to. The look on Todoroki's usually vacant face was sure to be fucking priceless.

But when Todoroki finally spoke, his voice was surprisingly composed. "Do you have medicine?"

He sounded much too close. Katsuki growled in warning. Stay back.