In My Memories | Suicidal Villain Todoroki x Depressed Bakugou

10 | Who am I?

I know it's all a lie. I know he's wearing a facade of solace. I know he hates me, and hatred runs deeper than various scars. I know he's feeding me lies again, but I...I just can't pry his hands off of my mouth. My love is killing him.

Of course they're lies, Shouto. You would offer him the greatest of happiness by allowing him to drag you along with them, like you did to him. Don't you want to make him happy? Don't you want to atone? Your dream was to become a hero who can provide to others what was torn away from you, so give him your life.

Although I'm shivering uncontrollably, a scorching twinge glides perniciously throughout my body as my tears continue to dive down my cheeks. I can't help but feel as though a pair of familiar turquoise eyes are lingering in the shadows to address and correct my flawed behavior.

"Crying is reserved for the weak, Shouto," my father reminded me for the umpteenth time. "Crying is a statement; it's saying that you've given up because you cannot handle the circumstances. Does a hero give up so easily? No. If you cannot manage your tears and petty emotions, then you will never be a hero. Pick yourself up and try again." All I could hear was the sound of his footsteps against the floor until he exited the training room, sliding the door shut behind him.

You know, he's right, Shouto, a voice called out to my lachrymose self as a faint, echoing whisper swimming through my mind. Heed the words of your father. You should be thankful for the training he is offering you. Nonetheless, you cry much, much too often. No one would want to be friends with someone who bawls their eyes out and mewls over trivial things.

I've heard you before, I thought to myself, clicking my teeth together and wincing at the excruciating pain of what felt like a mallet hammering a stake into my chest. But how can I not be sad? Is there a trick to happiness? Can you tell me? I placed my thumbs just below my eyes and began to brush away my tears.

Oh, sorrow doesn't quite equate to shedding tears. But it's honestly quite simple! All you have to do is lie and throw on a smile. No one will offer you their hand if you're depressed—they will instead shun the onslaught of negativity you allowed to culminate in your mind. In fact, what you think serves no significance or meaning, but you can easily remedy this by predicting what others desire from you. Once you've delivered it to them, I can wholeheartedly assure you that they will react far more positively than if you had spoken your mind.

I began to inspect my bruised, bleeding hands while formulating a response to the eerily familiar voice filtering through my thoughts and delving into the exploration of the vast boundaries of my memories. Smile and anticipate? That's it? Maybe I can do that. I'll start right now. My mercurial emotions, however, were recalcitrant. I know how I feel on the inside—empty; like I want to fill up the hole eating me up, but the person that the hole is inside of doesn't deserve to be repaired anymore—but when I smile, I think it makes it easier. Like, I still feel just as depressed, but at the same time, it's so much easier not to show it.

Subjugated by mortification, I internally itch and scratch at the interminable, endearing yearnings to slash through my skin with a sharp edge. Even the trifling image of my skin splaying open is more than enough to infect me with the fell notions of a self-inflicted bloodlust. This thrusts my thoughts into a tumult of raging turmoil, but all that I find myself capable of doing is sobbing into the comforting embrace of Bakugou.

What would have become of me...had I never followed your nefarious instructions? Could I have prevented all of this? Could I have salvaged and retained our friendships? Could I have...had a shot at him loving me? No. These are idyllic hopes that lack a position in reality. Even then, I felt as if I was merely a burden to them. I can't be loved. I don't deserve to be loved. I don't want to be loved. How queer...that this sounds remarkably familiar.

Do you expect me to answer what I cannot answer? Regardless, it is absurd that you would even consider anyone being able to love an animal like you. You serve no purpose here. Just like your Izuku told you, you're just bringing everyone down. Even Yaoyorozu was pitying you. Kill yourself so it's easier to forget your face. Death isn't painful—it's simply the torture of being killed that's painful—it's an escape from the pain. We all win, don't we?

In my memories, I was your dog and you were my master. I dared not bite, nor so much as utter a growl or bark. It almost felt as if you had stolen my voice, but my loyalty was steadfast.

"Why can't you do anything right?" you'd hissed in my face, staggering your strance as if you were preparing to knock me out. "You're so dumb! It was all just fine until you screwed it all up! Worthless betrayer!"

The more the wound is exacerbated, the longer the healing process takes; there is a point in which healing is deemed futile, and therefore whatever was wounded cannot be recovered.

"Oh, how exceedingly elated I am! Ah. I forgot to smile again. I only smile for you."