9007 words!
The blonde was angry a lot (or at least what he calls angry) and he couldn't hide that fact. He grew up in a household where all emotions were amplified by ten and the one he felt the most was sadness. Of course he said he was angry, and chose to say he was angry a lot of the time instead of just coming forwards and telling others that deep down inside, he was just depressed. He was just sad all of the time for no reason, and it felt like one wrong thing, one failure would end him.
Sometimes he'd wake up in the middle of the night, and his scarlet eyes would sting and he'd look around his room and no one would be there to comfort him. Even after he started living in the dorms with their near soundproof walls, he'd never allowed himself to cry. It felt like giving up, like he was telling what was sucking the life out of him, that it'd won. So he'd shove it down into the ball in his stomach that was always threatening to blow and he'd leave it and just stare into the darkness in front of him.
Maybe it was because that darkness would occasionally start breathing, and out of that absence of light he'd see the young leader of the League of Villians smiling at him with his hands carefully folded in front of him. Or he'd see his hero, All Might, the man who gave everything he had left to saving him since he had already given his power to someone who he believed to barely exist.
Maybe there was some anger in him somewhere, just it wasn't the black burning kind, it was the kind that eats away at someone slowly. Guilt and jealousy disguise themselves so, thinking that accepting anger is easier than accepting the former. And it's not entirely wrong.
Tonight was one of those nights where he'd wake up and look into the void and feel that pit in his stomach expand and the ball that hid itself inside of it vibrate. Only this time, he didn't just sit there, he got up and he walked through the halls of his dorm. The bathrooms weren't too far away and all he really wanted to do was splash some water on his face. But most, if not all, half-asleep minds like to wander, and his was no different. His went to the usual places, like how he wanted to fight Deku, the nobody who became somebody, because he felt that the green haired boy thought he was better than him. He hated that he liked to make him feel small and smile about it, he really disliked Deku.
There were also the nightmares of his hero crumpling on live TV and retiring because of him, and those League of Villain people who took him and forced him to watch. Yet, there was a little ray of sunshine in his mind and his name was Kirishima.
The blonde wasn't sure when his infatuation with him started, but he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter when they locked eyes during training or how his stomach would flip when he draped his arm across his shoulder. And even though he acted like the innocent PDA made him angry, he wanted more of it. He wanted to hold his hand and kiss his lips, he just wanted to be his, he just wanted to be Kirishima's.
The bathroom door stood in front of him, as if taunting him somehow in the dark, telling him that no one would see what he would do in there anyway. It told him that it'd ease the ball and the pit, and that if he did it tonight it'd go away. The door said it had a simple fix, and the scarlet eyed teen growled at it as he practically slammed it open and entered.
"I don't want your fix." He grumbled, glaring into the mirror. He started to run the water and sighed, maybe he did want the fix... he shook his head and splashed his face with the freezing water. "What I need to do is tell my mom." He stopped himself, "Maybe Aizawa-sensei..."
The door's voice seemed to enter the cabinet door and it told him his family and teachers couldn't help, he just needed a fix, the fix. It said no medicine would make the emptiness go away, no amount of bullshiting to a shrink would help.
It told him that he needed the fix.
The fix sounded so good, he splashed his face again but it didn't work like last time. The water continued to run, providing a calming white noise while his hands gripped the sink until his knuckles turned white. He wanted the fix, he needed the fix. "I shouldn't." But the cabinet door called.
His legs felt weak and he slid to the floor, his scarlet eyes glued to the handle. The cabinet door called out to him by name saying, come on, Bakugou. It's only one time. Only God will know.
He gulped and opened the cabinet. Inside he found a classmate's shaving kit, embroidered on the side was the name Tenya Iida. "He wouldn't know if I just took one..." opening the kit carefully, he looked through it precariously. He prayed to whoever would listen that no one would come through the door as he pulled out an unused razor blade and stared at it. The blonde closed the kit and set in back where he found it the way he found it. The cabinet door closed and he rolled up his sleeve, trying to figure out how far down his uniform sleeve fell.
His brain argued with him as he found a place he felt would be unnoticeable. The small voice inside told him all kinds of things as he placed the cold metal against his arm, trying to find a way to talk himself out of it and throw away the small piece of metal before it did any damage it couldn't undo.
It'll hurt. I don't mind.
You'll regret it. That's okay.
It won't just be this one time. Liar.
Think about what'll happen if they find out. They won't.
Please-
He pressed down and slid the metal across his sun kissed skin. Fresh red flowed out from the cut and covered all of the exposed skin near it, it dripped onto his shirt, his pants, and the ground. But the blonde didn't care, the pain sizzled through this skin and his face didn't move an inch. He didn't smile or frown or grimace at it, he just stared blankly at the self-inflicted wound and the pit grew smaller but the ball grew in size.
This was a bad idea. No, it wasn't.
You need to stop. No, I don't think I will.
As if in a daze he brought it across his arm several more times and by the time he stopped, there was a sizable puddle beneath him and all the fabric that had only been slightly damp before, was wet. His daze still didn't end as he got up, threw away the evidence of what he'd done and took off his shirt to soak up the red puddle on the ground. He wasn't sure what he was doing, and while he was washing off his arm and covering the still bleeding cuts with paper towels, he realized that he had no plan on what to do after he was done. There was that moment of release where all the tension he had melted away and nothing else mattered except for the cool metal in his fingers. He had thought he'd be afraid to actually go through with it, but as he watched himself pat down his red arm in the mirror, the blonde wanted to vomit as he found he truly couldn't care less.
Panic started to settle in now as the daze left and he looked around the bathroom. He needed a towel but the showers were on another level, then again he had walked all the way down here without anyone waking up, but he couldn't risk someone coming in and find the red puddle and his shirt while he was gone. What else was there? He opened the cabinet door again, thank God for Deku's constant bone breaking, and found a small first aid kit (there were about five in there, but this one had the most bandages in it) and opened it. He washed his arm again and wrapped himself up the same way he'd seen Recovery Girl do for Deku a thousand times before sprinting out of the bathroom and down a flight of stairs into the showers.
The next twenty or so minutes flashed by as he got the towel, ran back up the stairs and cleaned up the 'mess' he'd left behind. All the remains of that night were gone if one didn't bother to count the red pants, shirt or towel. Running back down the stairs he returned to the shower, found a type of plastic wrap made for covering bandages (he never realized how many of his classmates got hurt in training...) and got into the shower with the shirt, pants, and towel in hand. For an hour he worked at the washing them and the towel with the only thought racing through is head being: great job dumb fuck, why didn't you do this in your room or over a sink?
Then he'd slap himself and say he shouldn't have done it at all before reverting back into the thoughts of how he was going to do it again without all the anxiety and clean up. The cabinet said only God would know, yet it seemed that the Devil would know too.
The hour ended and his clothes and the towel were as clean as they could get without being thrown into a washing machine. He washed himself too of course as the panic of the night made him sweat through his pants, he was sure the bathroom would smell like caramel for the next couple of days as he dried off and got out the extra pair of clothes he kept in his locker.
As he made his way up the stairs he stopped and turned around, heading for the landruary room instead. He figured he could do what clothes had been left over from the previous day and get out the fresh red from the items in his hands. He prayed again that they wouldn't stain as he threw them into the first washer he found alongside a couple black clothing items he found strewn about in hopes of the 'color' not bleeding into the other clothes.
The blonde felt a little drowsy watching the washing machine do it's work and he wasn't sure why. He woke up at the same time every night and stared into the void until dawn when he put on new clothes and went to class with everyone else who were unaware of his issues, and he unaware of theirs.
He started to doze off the washer binged and he moved the clothes into the dryer, when he saw the once semi-red items he brought down no longer barred the nights mark, he threw them into the dryer and went upstairs. He'd get them in the morning or the next night, now he just wanted to sleep. The panic had taken its toll, he realized as he closed his dorm room door and fell fast asleep.
He woke up late Saturday morning, that is if 9 AM is considered late. Sunlight poured out of his window and he blinked in confusion at the yellow-white light dancing across his dorm room floor. He never opened the blinds. Getting up he rubbed his hands together to provide an extra layer of sweat as he opened his door and glared out into the hall. The only one out there was the redheaded beauty, Kirishima. He hit his head on the door frame a couple of times before walking out, "did you do that?"
Kirishima's cherry eyes looked him over with slight confusion. "Do what?" He sounded honest as he smiled slightly, showcasing his sharp teeth.
The blonde found himself just kind of staring at the redhead, he didn't mean to, but he looked so pretty in the morning light, he seemed to glow. And the small scar on his right eye just added that extra level of intrigue and a curious beauty to the boy in front of him.
Shut the fuck up brain. Once he gathered himself, he cleared his throat and said, "well my blinds are open. I don't remember doing that."
The pretty boy in front of him laughed and scratched the back of his head, "I hate throwing him under the bus like this, but that was Midoriya-kun. He said he heard you walking around a lot last night, so this morning he went to check on you. When he saw you were still asleep he opened the blinds so it 'won't be so dark when he wakes up', I think he said." The blonde half chuckled and half scoffed at the green haired boy's actions.
"Tell him I say thank you, I guess." He snapped his mouth shut, holy shit I must still be half-asleep. "Don't say anything." The redheaded teen shot his hands up defensively and laughed slightly. "Uh... actually I wanna ask. Was he telling the truth?"
The scarlet eyed teen turned around and asked what Kirishima meant. "Where you really walking around all night? I mean if you were I don't care, I just wanna make sure you're okay and that he, erm... Midoriya-kun I mean, isn't just going crazy..."
The blonde snorted, "one, I'm fine. I just couldn't sleep so I walked around for a little bit. And two, he's already crazy. I'm going to get dressed, I'll be down later." Kirishima opened his mouth again to speak, but the way his best friend looked at him before turning away made him close it.
He just wished Bakugou would talk to him, that was all. But is it? The redhead asked himself, staring after his friend. Is that really all I want?
The events of last night seemed to run on repeat for the rest of the day. His arm was only a little sore, but it seemed to sling more with each replay and each thought that accompanied it. The cabinet door had told him it was one time and he said the same thing, yet as the day went on he found himself eyeing shaving kits and the switchblade cases at the mall Dunce Face and the others managed to drag him to.
"Come on man!" The second blonde in the group, 15 year old Kaminari, shouted. He was always overactive like Deku with his wide armed swings, loud voice, and excessive eyebrow movement. "We came to the mall to buy stuff and you haven't bought a thing. I'll feel bad if you don't get anything."
His scarlet eyes rolled in a sarcastic manner as he sighed, "then be fucking sad." He turned his head to a nearby kiosk while Dunce Face yelled after him. The blonde drowned out all of his 'friends' complaints as he walked up to the man running the small store and asked for the small, black switchblade that sat on the top row.
His legs felt weak, he knew he shouldn't have bought it and he knew he should have asked the nice man to put the knife back since he didn't really need it, but instead he asked him to bag it and he took the weapon home.
All of the windows on the way back to the dorm thanked him for buying the switchblade, they told him that it would make the fix easier to acquire. He agreed with the windows even though, well what he thought was, a perverted guilt ran rampant through his body. He shouldn't have bought the knife, he shouldn't be looking forward to waking up in the middle of the night, but he was and his wounds stopped hurting.
The walk home wasn't quiet at all, the entire way Raccoon Eyes and Dunce Face argued about whether chocolate tasted better with strawberries or marshmallows, but he didn't hear a word. All he heard were his thoughts and the windows, he was so lost in them that he didn't even realize that Kirishima was staring at him for the majority of the trip. He was worried, so, so worried. The redhead contemplated staying up all night to follow him, so see what was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself too. He didn't want to walk in on him crying or doing something else of the sensitive nature, still something felt wrong. His Bakugou was too quiet, too mellow, and much too dark.
They arrived back in the dorms after a twenty minute walk and four of the five teens collapsed in the longue. "Where ya going, Bakugou-kun?" Soy Sauce Face asked, looking after his friend, his black eyes followed him ever so closely. He was looking for something and didn't know what.
The blonde shrugged. "Up to my room, it's been a long day." The teens gathered in the common area stopped what they were doing and turned to look at the scene in front of them. There was no outburst, no cursing, no snark in his voice, he just sounded tired. A pen could have dropped and it would have sounded like a dumbbell hitting concrete. "G'night."
The worry Kirishima had been carrying became worse.
Two days had passed and everything about the blonde's demeanor had changed, how fast he got angry, the way in which he showed distaste, his speech, his walk, his everything.
If he doesn't get out of this slump soon, Kirishima thought, looking at his best friend's dorm room door as he walked by. I'm going to have to follow him or something.
The door was cold to the scarlet eyed teen's touch and a wave of relief washed over him. He was finally alone in his small room, he could be alone with his thoughts, with the pit and ball in his stomach, with his darkness, and with the weapon he had yet to open. His eyes flicked to the bag.
You don't have to open it. I do.
You don't want to do this. I do.
You don't have to do this. I do.
It'll only make it worse. It won't.
You were fine yesterday. No. I wasn't.
What about him? He doesn't care.
What if he finds out? Don't worry about it.
This won't be the last time. It will.
You're lying. I... I'm not.
The bag he'd been fearing to open was now emptied out into his bed, the contents of it strewn about. Pieces of tissue paper scattered and the switchblade sat in the middle of the chaos, it begged him to grab it then and there, it said that his fix didn't have to be later that night. He shook his head, only at night. You do it during the day and this really becomes a problem.
He scratched at his arms, they had remained unscathed last night, the blonde figured the pits growth was catching up to him. He needed the fix. The door called out and the knife begged. Yet he said no, got ready for bed, and fell asleep within a few minutes. He held onto the switchblade with a death grip from underneath his pillow, no one was going to take away the only thing that made the pit in his stomach lessen, even if it made the ball grow.
And soon the pit woke him up as he stared into the mild darkness in front of him, tonight Deku sat at the edge of his bed, his broken fingers grazed the dim moonlight that crawled in through the blinds. "Hey Kacchan..." the night terror turned around, everything was broken and his face was bruised and bloody. "I took the swan dive you told me too." His hand retracted from the moonlight and he extended it to the horrified blonde, "wanna join?" Blood poured from his lips making the teenager get up in a hurry and dash out the door. That wasn't Deku, he knew him too well, he was stronger than he was. The blonde bit his tongue, he hated to admit that.
The stairwell felt longer than usual as he raced down them and into the showers. He fished for a new towel and for one of the many first aid kits hidden around the dorms, once he found what he was looking for he got undressed and turned the water on. It was nearly scolding hot, each drop of water that hit his back made him wince. My back'll be red after this...
You can still go back. I can't.
You need to. I don't.
Just put it down. No.
He flicked open the switchblade and started to press the blade into his other arm, around the same place he had done so on his right. The daze started up again as he completed drawing the red line across his arm.
He watched as the red went down the drain and mixed with the shower water; if he had been paying attention, he would have seen it mix with something black.
Just like Friday night, he didn't stop until the pit in his stomach was gone, but by then his upper arm was barely visible through the damage he had inflicted upon it. No panic set in as he cleaned himself up, washed his hair, dried off, and rewrapped himself. The panic only began to settle while he was washing off his switchblade and he realized that even though it was just the second time, he was getting much too used to the feeling of it, the euphoric-intoxication of his self-harm. Bile rose in his throat, he didn't want it to feel good, he didn't want to find refuge inside the one thing he told himself he'd never do. He'd sworn he'd never hurt himself. Yet here he was cleaning himself off like he had just finished painting a mural.
He swallowed. "I can handle this." He looked into the mirror, and the mirror said, I'm a liar and there's nothing I can do since the only ones allowed to know are God and the Devil. What have I done? What do I do?
Monday morning he didn't feel like getting out of bed, so he didn't. Even with all of Dekus plea's to come out of the room and come to class and with all of Kirishima's soft knocking and begging, he refused to come out. His blinds had been shut again making his own artificial night, and that somewhat helped soothe the black bubbling up inside of him. From the moment he opened his eyes, he knew it was going to be one of those days, one his off days.
And those days were the days where he simply felt that something horrible was going to happen. The pit and the ball grew quickly on these days and his eyes felt sore, his stomach turned and knotted and his throat felt like it was closing. What was going to go wrong? Why did everything feel wrong? Why was he wrong?
Not even his mother's calming technique worked, though he tried his best to recite it:
5 things that smell good. Vanilla extract, hot chocolate, green tea, cinnamon, fresh baked cookies.
4 things that taste good. Hot sauce, pineapple upside down cake, chocolate bars, butterscotch chips.
3 colors you like. Red, orange, black.
2 songs you like. Aishite Aishite Aishite, Noir Eden (damn French Kid getting me into his weird ass music...)
1 thing you like about yourself. Nothing.
He stopped the exercise and turned in his bed so he would face the wall. There was nothing to mention, he wasn't proud of himself or anything he'd done. Everything he'd achieved meant nothing, but if he didn't bother to try someone would get hurt. It seemed that all he could find in himself was a disaster. He turned again and side eyed his knife, a few small cuts on his thigh wouldn't hurt...
The end of the day came around faster than he'd expected, five or so small cuts lined the inside of his thigh, no bandages needed but he would have liked to wash them. You can't go down there again today, if you do you might actually need to put bandages on it.
He rolled into his back and placed his palms to his eyes. He hadn't eaten all day, all he'd done was sleep and do what he'd rather not say. "I'm a fucking walking mess."
The shadows began to move before taking on the likeness of Deku again, this time he wasn't battered or bruised, but there was something off. "You did this." When he asked what he did and the green haired teen turned around and he had to suck in a scream, his eyes were black holes and ink seeped out of them in large chunks onto the floor. "You killed him and now we'll all die too. You villian, this is all you. You don't deserve a single thing you have, why don't you just end it? You've been thinking about it since the beginning of the first semester, and our second has two months left. What's the harm in at least trying if you crave it so much?"
"Go to hell." The blonde whispered, the creature tilted his head back and smiled, something oozed from his mouth. "I said go to hell you freak!"
The blonde heard a snap as the creature held out his hand, a favored gesture. "Only if you come with." His heart seemed to beat out of his chest, it was loud in the room's silence as he and the creature stared at each other. The creature suddenly slammed his hand into his other and laughed, "well okay then, if you ever decide to take it, you know where I'll be."
The scarlet eyed teen's breathing got more desperate while he watched the creature disappear into the wall, "and where's that?"
"Your mind of course." He stayed silent for a long time after that.
Three hours later (it was 5 PM by then) someone knocked on his door and the silence he'd been holding onto was broken. "Uh... hey Bakugou-kun, you in there? Sero-kun, Kaminari-kun, and Mina-kun have practically torn apart the dorms looking for you." He coughed into his hand and made a snide comment about how he was the only one smart enough to actually look in the blondes room. Once he cleared his throat he tested the door handle, "can I come in? I brought you some takeout from that bakery-thing down the road you said you wanted to try out. I have a chocolate croissant and an egg and ham sandwich, do you want me to give it to you or do you just want me to leave it out here?"
His fingernails dung into his forearms and he bit down on his tongue, he wanted to hold him so badly, to tell him what was wrong, he just wanted to cry and pour out everything inside, but he just couldn't bring himself to. "You can come in."
The pretty boy on the opposite side of the door smiled softly and opened the door to find his best friend laying under mounds of blankets staring at the wall. He looked so sad with his eyes glazed over like that, there is no emotion on his face even with everything swirling around inside of him, the room smelled strongly of caramel showing that he must be frying inside of his blanket burrito, and his breath seemed uneven. His chest still rose and fell like it usually would, but he seemed to shake with each breath out and rattle with each breath in. It was painful to watch, but somehow Kirishima managed to maintain a smile as he sat beside the blonde.
"I'll just leave this here, if you need anything else ya know where I'll be. Please eat soon." Weighing his options, he leaned over and gave the scarlet eyed teen a hug. He didn't move, his breathing didn't change, but when he looked into those pretty cherry eyes he shut his eyes again, they were so dark, so sad. And he felt it was his fault.
The blonde unwrapped himself and looked at the bag in front of him once he was sure Kirishima was gone and started eating. It tasted good, but he couldn't help but think it'd taste better if he had been eating it with another person.
As quickly as the thought came it left as he finished his food and threw away his trash. Sleep came quickly and his new showering habit seemed to happen in a daze because when Tuesday morning rolled around he found the experience blurry and dream-like, but when he saw the new bandages on his right arm he remembered and wished he could just go back to sleep.
You need to go to school. No I don't.
What if you get expelled? I wouldn't care.
What if this makes Aizawa-sensei check up on you?
His class work and lectures seemed to be more boring than usual, his mind just kept on drifting to mirrors, and doors, and creatures begging him to follow. Everytime he tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere, the begging creatures and doors would come back in full force. That's why when the day's core classes were over, he was amazed at the fact that he had any notes at all.
That thought was also cut short by the bell ringing, telling the students of class 1-A that their Foundational Hero Studies classes with Present Mic (as the substitute of course) were starting. For the first time in days he grinned, that class basically meant they would go outside and fight with one another for an hour or two before heading back to the dorms. Usually Aizawa-sensei taught that class due to All Might being retired, but it was one of the few days where Aizawa-sensei asked to stay behind.
On those days it'd be because he was backlogged and just needed a nap, today however the reason was shown clearly to the blonde as the teacher asked him if they could talk.
Shit. "Bakugou-kun, it's come to my attention that you've been going down to the showers at two-three AM every night. Is everything okay? Are you having trouble sleeping? As you know we have a counselor on the school grounds if you need to-"
The scarlet eyed teen's hands became fists as he shook, trying not to shout at his teacher. "I'm fine." The words were bitter, forced out, and Aizawa-sensei could tell.
In response, the man with long black hair tried to recite a poem to the blonde, claiming that it always seemed to make him feel better when he went to UA. The teen just tunned it out and walked from the classroom, "I'm going back to the dorms, I'll punch a few trees and run a couple of laps. Don't worry, I can handle this myself."
The teacher sighed once again after he had left the room, wishing he could do more than have one-way conversions with him everyday after class. But the cruel reality of it was, there was nothing he could do unless his student came forwards, and the abyss eyed man prayed he would.
The blonde practically ran back to his dorms, not stopping until he was all the way up the stairs and securely locked in his room. The smell of caramel lingered in the air, it seemed almost forgein as he stared into the void in front of him. The smell wasn't there to him, no matter how potent it actually was, all he knew was that that darkness and him were one in the same, and he was tired. The pit had grown and the ball had too, he wanted the fix so badly as he stared at his wall, but knew he had to wait. The idea of someone finding out made the darkness bigger, he felt as if he might be swallowed by it.
Midoriya sat uncomfortably in the corner of the common room couch, it was just him, the rain, and Todoroki who laid across the top of the couch on his stomach. It had been three months since the last semester of the year had started, and as the second to last month began, he couldn't help but feel as if the wrong feeling in the air had gotten heavier, gotten more poisonous.
That feeling made his mind wander into places he forgot existed and the place it explored tonight made him sick. He and Kacchan's parents, even his own mother, knew there was always something different about his friend's behavior. There was nothing wrong with him, it was just that he always seemed so much sadder than those around him, he was always so eager to prove himself, and that might have been part of the reason he'd attached himself to All Might. He was strong and always seemed to come out on top, but in these past two months, that sadness seemed to have grown past how much was originally there, it seemed to be eating Kacchan up.
There were no more outbursts in class, he didn't cuss (hell, he didn't even talk much), he sat in a defensive position, walked with his arms crossed in a protective manner, and he didn't fight very well anymore either. It was like he was asking to be hurt, and get hurt he did. His cry for help echoed in Midorya's ears, he and Kirishima had heard it and had been hearing it loud and clear, but per usual they didn't know what to do. The green eyed teen couldn't talk to him because Kacchan hated him and Kirishima was afraid of pushing him too hard for information. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place and had no idea how to help their friend.
"Maybe I should ask Aizawa-sensei to follow him tomorrow night..." he mumbled, biting on his eraser. "But if that went poorly then he'd pull even further away and his mental state has gotten so much worse in the past couple of weeks..." Now Todoroki was looking at him through semi-open eyes, his boyfriend was right. "Fuck!" The outburst caused Todoroki to fall off the couch and onto the ground, he moaned before getting back up, but it seemed the smaller of the two hadn't even noticed yet. "I'm lost, Todoroki-kun! I don't want him to do anything rash, hell, he was nearly hit by a truck yesterday and he walked it off like it was no big deal! I'm such a bad friend, I don't want to help because I'm afraid of how he'll react, I can't go to anyone else because that's cowardly, and Kirishima-kun feels the same way, but he can't go to a teacher or his parents without proof 'cause this could ruin him if we're wrong an-"
"Midoriya-kun!" The freckled-teen silenced himself. "Kirishima-kun's room is closest to his, you both want to know what's going on, right? Just have him follow Bakugou-kun. Don't have him follow too close or too far and call it good, maybe he's just going down there because he likes to shower alone or this semesters getting to him. Maybe All Might's retirements got him on edge and maybe something is seriously wrong, but you can't keep beating yourself over something that you aren't dealing with. He needs you and Kirishima-kun, I get that, but he's not some test subject you need to keep tabs on or a puppy you should constantly worry about. He's still just a person, Izuku, and right now he just needs someone to talk to. You can't make him stop what you think he might be doing because it doesn't work that way, I'd know. Just have Kirishima-kun talk to him." The teen signed and closed his teal and grey eyes, "sound good?"
Internally Midoriya slapped himself for letting the situation get so out of hand so fast, for not doing something sooner because he was more worried about himself than the blonde boy who was the one actually in pain. Externally, he nodded. "I'll go to Kirishima-kun tomorrow."
The next day flew by, sure it was the same as every other day, but the sky was grey and it smelled of wet earth. Aizawa-sensei took one look at the sky and decided he'd have them do an obstacle course in the rain to see how'd they'd adapt to the change in weather (what else would they expect him to do?). And they were doing fine until he surprised them with faux villains, then again, this was Aizawa-sensei.
Inside a nearby building, Kirishima and Midoriya took shelter away from the robots to talk. "I know you've been thinking about it too, so can you follow Kacchan down into the showers today? I know that's a weird thing to ask of you, but I'm getting really worried..."
Without a second thought, Kirishima nodded. "I'll do it." The green haired teen smiled softly at the taller boy. "Now, let's kick some robot ass."
The day moved slower after that, during the training the blonde had been hit by falling debris and had broken his leg. It had been healed up fairly quickly due to Recovery Girl, but the way in which he handled it gave off the feeling that he was disappointed with the injury, whether it be it wasn't very extreme or that it was healed quickly.
The dorms were quiet when he came up into the common area to get some fruit, his arm was bandaged in a soft white fabric and he was scratching at it absentmindedly. "What's up Bakugou-kun?" Kirishima asked, waving at his best friend, a sharp-toothed grin pointed in his direction.
Grabbing an apple he softly said, "just hungry. I'm heading back up to my room." The redhead frowned while he watched him leave, something was definitely off. And he meant more off than he had been, his voice sounded broken and watered down, his footsteps carried no weight, and he walked like he was balancing on a piece of thread. Even if Midoriya hadn't asked, Kirishima still would have followed his best friend that night.
His room was darker than it usually was. There seemed to be an endless abyss stitched into his walls and ceiling, and it made him feel small, oh so small. The pit started to grow and the ball felt as if it would explode, the darkness had begun it's take over. "You ready?"
"Huh?" He looked up to find the creature back in his room, his hand in his face.
The creature giggled, "you ready? You've been staring at that wall for hours, it's midnight. Everyone should be asleep." He crushed the apple that was in his hand while thinking through his options, he wanted to take that hand so badly but- "if you're scared you shouldn't be. This isn't supposed to be scary, Kacchan. You just go in, and you don't come out. You've finally reached the point where the fix can't help, you're numb. We'd always thought it'd take less time, oh but you, you're a fighter. Enough of my ramblings, I know you hate it when I do that."
The scarlet-eyed boy took the creature's hand when really he was just taking his switchblade off of his night stand. The two of them left the room and ten minutes after they'd gone down the stairs, Kirishima emerged from his room and followed behind.
The stairwell seemed shorter than usual and the showers seemed so much more welcoming than they usually did. The door slammed behind him, but he didn't care, there was only him, the shower, and his switchblade. He didn't bother getting undressed as he walked into the nearest shower and turned on the hot water, the steam filled up the showers fairly quickly. He sighed and sat down, not truly noticing that the water had soaked through his clothes. Or maybe he just didn't care.
This won't fix anything. It's my only choice.
There are other options! No there's not.
You still have so much to do. No I don't.
What about him? He doesn't matter anymore.
Just put it down. No.
It would seem that the switchblade's begging won as he pressed it into his forearm and slid it from the croak of his elbow down the bottom of his palm. The cut was deep and it stung underneath the boiling water, the skin around it tingled and had a frozen feeling about it. And it hurt, that much was true, but he didn't mind the feeling very much.
Watching the black run down his arm and color everything it came into contact with seemed to dull the rest of the emotions he was feeling. He slid it down his other arm the same way, and while the darkness took over his mind and his eyes, he realized that the ball in his stomach was gone, but the pit was bigger than ever.
"Katsuki!" He didn't hear his name or the shower curtain opening. He didn't feel Kirishima trying to wake him up and he didn't feel the pretty boy's tears splattering against his cheeks as he sobbed into his phone, asking Aizawa-sensei to get Recovery Girl and to hurry. He didn't feel the towels being wrapped around his arms and he didn't hear the shower turning off, all he knew was darkness, all he was, was the void.
Kirishima sat outside of his best friend's hospital room shaking, Recovery Girl was inside doing what she did best, but outside Aizawa-sensei was kneeling in front of the teen, asking questions. "What happened?"
He sniffled, "well, I followed him like Midoriya-kun asked since we were both worried about him and when I got down there I heard him turn on the shower. A few minutes past before he got in, I waited for another couples minutes after he got into the shower just incase, but when I looked in, I saw all this blood just pooling out of the shower and-" his voice was breaking, the whites of his eyes had become bright red, and it felt like his lungs had stopped taking in air. He was hiccuping and sobbing, he could hardly stop crying or catch his breath long enough to finish. Once he finally did catch his breath, the rest of his story became broken up and he began to think himself pitiful.
"And when I-I finally sh-shoved my way into the-the room, I t-tore the curtain o-open and when I found him, h-his breath was sha-shallow and I was freaking out. Fuck, fuck, I was k-kneeling in his b-blood and it was all-all over my hands and shirt... then I-I called you and oh-oh God, after I-I hung up and star-stared to wrap his ar-arms like you said it-it didn't look like he-he was breathing! S-So I put my ear o-on his chest a-and tried listening for a heart beat, b-but I couldn't find one! His blood got, it got, it got on my face and in m-my hair... and I couldn't s-stop crying, I-I think I started rocking him o-or something. F-Fuck, I thought he was dead, I thought he was dead, I thought he was dead..."
Everything is grey, there wasn't even white or black mixed in with it, all the blonde could see was grey, even when the world became dark, it felt like it was just a darker shade of the color. Black didn't exist because it was all in his veins and all the white had disappeared into the smiles of his classmates, he just couldn't find any white for himself anymore.
After what the scarlet-eyed teen started calling the incident, the teacher told his parents about what happened. They'd sent him to a doctor who'd put him on some antidepressants with a name he couldn't pronounce, though he knew it started with an "e". If he was being honest, they didn't help at all, it just sucked out what emotion he could get out of the world. Not to mention the fact he had an even harder time falling asleep and for some reason he felt a lot more thirsty than he usually did.
He was also asked to go to therapy by his parents, friends, and teachers, but he never could make himself walk into that woman's office. The idea of going to a shrink made him feel like he needed fixing, like he was weak. The blonde greatly disliked it. As for "the incident", it was kept under wraps too, per the blondes request, he didn't want anyone victimizing him or feeling bad for him, so the teachers and Kirishima said he got hurt by falling down the stairs since the lights took too long to turn on in the stairwell.
The explanation was iffy, but class 1-A wanted to believe it and Deku didn't even allow that explanation to be thought of as a theory, he knew something more was going on and that all he could do was talk if the blonde needed to and stay away when asked.
Kirishima thought otherwise, he didn't talk, he stayed close to listen, to watch, to give a smile if needed. The cherry eyed boy didn't hang on him as much as he once did, but he did hug him from behind from time to time.
This went on for weeks and weeks until the second to last week of school came around and the ball came back, ready to burst. At first is was the size of a marble, but the closer and closer the end of the year came, the more and more he saw All Might and Deku, the more and more he watched Kirishima try so hard to make a happiness in him that's never been there, and the more time made between now and the last time he'd brought the switchblade down on his arms made that bubble shake and attempt to rip through its outer layer. That ball wanted to burst, just like it did when all of that black poured out of him like rivers.
He had decided Tuesday morning that this time he'd succeed, that this time he'd be more careful.
Tuesday morning he'd decided he'd run out of options.
The bell rang to tell the students of UA that their Foundational Hero Studies classes had started causing the blondes' classmates to file out of the room, but he had a few of them stay behind. Now he was all alone in a room full of his 'friends' as he began to speak and he spoke in I'm sorry's to Izuku Midoriya, Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, Eijiro Kirishima, and Ochako Uraraka. He said he was sorry for his outbursts, for what he'd done, for the pain he'd brought. He told Midoriya he was proud of him and that he would be a great hero. He told Uraraka that he was inspired by her and that he had a great respect for her, and he told Iida that he was truly living up to what he figured his brother had always wanted him to be.
His heart felt like it was breaking as he started to talk to Todoroki, telling him that no matter what happened, he wasn't his father and that no matter what happened to him, it made him who he was and that he honestly wasn't that bad. He schooled him on how he should better treat Midoriya before he looked to Kirishima, his heart ripped in half as he looked into his eyes. He breathed in deeply and told him that he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and that he deserved to do well, to not let anything hold him down even if he wanted to keep holding onto it. And then he left the room, the freckled-boy and the pretty boy tried to go after them, but Iida told them that Aizawa-sensei was in the dorms and that everything would be okay.
Two hours, two hours was all he had. Two hours to decide if he really wanted to let himself fall off the roof, two hours to die on the pavement if things didn't go right, two hours to argue with the creature. This was all he had left, this was all he knew how to do, the blonde felt he needed this.
Stop running. No.
Go back down the stairs. No.
There are better ways to go about this. I don't care.
This isn't the only option. It is.
They need you. They don't.
They care about you. They don't.
They love you, Baku-
"SHUT UP!" He slammed the door to the roof open and made his way to the ledge. The calm way in which he sat on the ledge made him want to vomit, maybe cry, but he didn't. He didn't cry, the last time he had he'd been eight, he'd fallen off his bike. He doesn't cry, not anymore, he can't, he shouldn't, he won't...
He was leaning towards the ground.
Actually, there was no ground, no pavement, no trees or grass, there he saw the abyss and the abyss saw him. It seemed to plain, so simple, when had he started to crave such a thing?
He was losing his balance.
"Bakugou-kun?" He regained his balance as Aizawa-sensei walked towards him slowly. "Nice view, huh?" The sky was grey, was the sun even there anymore? The scarlet eyed teen was much too busy staring into the sky, trying to find the sun that he didn't even notice that his teacher had sat next to him.
The blonde closed his eyes and sighed. "I wish I could see it." The two became quiet. "Random thing, Aizawa-sensei, you recited a poem to me once. What was it? I didn't hear you the first time."
His teacher smiled, "I knew a boy who liked to draw, he drew pictures that nobody saw. He was most artistic late at night, in the bathroom out of sight. He kept a secret no one knew, he didn't tell a soul and his gallery grew. His drawings were different, no paper or pen but needed a bandage now and then. We stood by the river under the stars, he rolled up his sleeve and showed me his scars. He felt embarrassed and looked down at his shoes. Then I rolled up my sleeves and whispered 'I draw too'." And ever so gently, his teacher rolled up his sleeves.
"When I went to UA, my best friend would recite that poem for me whenever I got sad. Said he found it on the internet and that he'd been looking for a good poem for hours, just because he wanted to find a way to make me happy, make me feel less alone." His black eyes looked over at his students who had his arms crossed, holding where his scars were. His teacher chuckled softly, "I don't want you to be like me, Bakugou-kun. I want you to go out and save lives and live life because it's the only one you have. I don't want you to be condemned to long sleeved shirts or discolored skin, you need to find solace in the people around you. Don't make the same mistake I did, and don't wait too long to fix them. You have so much life in you, if only you'd reach for it."
And the blonde hiccuped.
Aizawa-sensei looked over again to find his students' shoulders shaking, his whole body was and tears were flowing down his face in big droplets. His teeth were clenched and his hands were gripping the ledge for dear life. As he started to speak again, a loud sob escaped him and the sunset appeared, the sun was back and he started to smile through his cries and whimpers.
His teacher got up and held out his hand, but instead of taking it, the teenager hugged him round the waist. Nothing more needed to be said, because it already had been.
The next day, the skin kissed teen got out of bed at eight AM and put on the nicest clothes he could find. His door opened with a slight click and it closed with one. Sunlight drowned the hallway and the stairwell he used to walk down and exit the dorms.
He had his medicine bottle in hand, the switchblade in his pocket, and his open hand at his side, thumb hanging onto one of the belt loops. The walk wasn't very long, after all the woman's office was only a block away from the dorms.
The blonde looked at the door for a long while when he had arrived at the therapist's office.
Will this be worth it? Yes.
Should we go in? Just one more minute.
Are you enjoying the sunshine? Of course.
And just like that (with much less effort that he thought required), Katsuki Bakugou grabbed the door handle, and walked into the therapist's waiting room.