Warning - This is gonna be angsty and depressing my ladies, gents, and all in between. Buckle up for the ride.
< CW for the story- depression, anxiety, suicide, death, graphic wound description, panic/anxiety attacks, pills, semi- implied eating disorder, self harm >
< CW for this chap- suicide mention >
lettuce begin the story :D
"BAAAKKUUGGOOOOUUU!" The shout carries through the cramped school hallway. As the heads nearest to me start to turn, a nauseating wave of horror barely has the chance to crash over me before someone slams into my side, almost toppling me over into the people standing next to us.
"I swear tO GOD KIRISHIMA!" I grit out, checking my volume at the last minute so as to not get another suspension due to noise (not like that had happened before or anything) and shoving him off. This can't be a good start to a Monday morning. I can feel people staring at us as I growl, my ears burning, and pick up my books that had fallen during the commotion. "The fuck do you want with me Shitty Hair?"
He smiles widely - almost blindingly, Jesus Christ - and my eyes can't help but dart down to his uniquely sharp teeth for a moment before flicking back up. His face doesn't display even the slightest bit of remorse, and I sigh, anger already draining away. It's hard to stay mad at him for long.
"Just felt like sayin' hi to my good buddy Bakubro! Nothin' wrong with that, right?" He laughs - He's gonna ask for a favor, isn't he, I think - and picks up the last of my spilled books, dropping them into my hands. "So! How's it goin'?"
I roll my eyes, exhaling wearily. I'm too tired for this shit right now. I barely got any sleep last night- I'd lost track of time working on my project- and had ended up coming home around midnight. "I was doing great 'til you showed up, dumbfuck! What the fuck were you thinking, barreling into me like that? Do you know how many people were staring at us?!" It comes out as a whisper-shout, in an attempt to shake the grating attention.
He chooses to ignore my comment, looping his arm through mine and dragging me along to our first class. I can feel the prying eyes falling away, and the tight feeling in my chest fades just a little. "Ok ok, I'll get to the point now- did you know there's gonna be an Unreasonable Amount of Pilots concert on Friday night? At the Koko ni Sutajiamu-Mei o Sōnyū Shimasu Stadium (ここにスタジアム名を挿入します)?! And Mina said she has extra tickets! Do you wanna come with me?"
"Let go of my arm you dumbass- and I don't care. Sounds lame."
"Great! Wanna carpool? It starts at 8. We could have a sleepover afterward!"
My teeth grit together before I roll my eyes, sighing in exasperation. Nothing will persuade this idiot not to drag me along at this point. I did hear their recent song the other day and it was... kinda cool I guess. I mean it's not like I have anything better to do on Friday anyways, although that does mean I'd have to be around people, something I tend to avoid these days- due to bitchy social anxiety and the idiotic fucksticks known as other people. These morons- the "bakusquad", as they've dubbed themselves (without my consent, might I add)- also have a bad habit of corralling me into being their designated driver whenever we go out.
Since they all turned 18 last year it's just been them sneaking into bar after bar, and usually roping me into that job since apparently I "usually drink the least out of all of us anywaysss, and you don't mind right Bakubb?" I assume this concert is also going to have alcohol (and people unfortunately), so maybe it'd be better to stay home.
But then again, I wouldn't get to hang out with Kiri and-
Wait, hang on- what the fuck?
A sudden frown twists across my face like I've bitten into a sour lemon. I've got no idea where that thought came from. He's... ok. I guess. And I don't mind hanging out with him, but it's not like I'd be disappointed to not see him. So where the fuck did-
I'm abruptly jerked from my thoughts when a hand frantically waves in front of my face. I blink a couple of times before turning to see Kirishima looking at me, an eyebrow raised. I must've been tuning out whatever he was talking about.
"Hellllooooo? Earth to Bakubro? What are you spacin' out about there, buddy?"
"Tch- I..." The previous thoughts filling my mind flit across my consciousness briefly, and I clear my throat, ignoring the sudden rise of heat to my cheeks. "Nothing, idiot."
He gives up after a moment, turning away to babble on about something else- which I'm more than grateful for- the embarrassment of the moment fading since the unfortunate truth of the matter was that I had technically been thinking about if I would miss him or not, but he doesn't need to know that since I obviously wouldn't miss him.
Why am I still thinking about this?!
Silence, odd for the circumstances, surrounds me and it's unusual enough that I stop and look back, realizing I must've walked past him- to see that he's just standing there behind me like he doesn't know if he's allowed to come along or not. God fuck, why does he look like a kicked puppy?!
I grumble, "The fuck you doing Shitty Hair? Get back here." and don't have to say it twice before he catches up to me, a tentative smile spreading across his face.
"So I'll take that as a yes?....."
I sigh in painful defeat, already regretting my decision. I manage to mumble, "Fine, whatever. I don't care," although I can feel myself aging by just the thought. I'll have to check in the mirror for grey hairs tonight.
He lets out a loud whoop- definitely too loud for the school hallway- that bounced off the grey linoleum walls, pumping his fist in the air. "It's gonna be so awesome just wait I've been listening to them for years now and you're gonna absolutely love them!" He rambles, and drapes an arm over my shoulders, steering me into the classroom.
He babbles on, but my focus immediately narrows down to the point of contact, my shoulders tensing. I can feel the heat of his arm even through two layers of fabric. Ever since he started calling me his friend and I stopped... stopping him, I guess, he's been getting almost... clingy? It's strange. I'm not used to such blatant displays of affection from someone... or anyone, really. Most people don't even want to be around me, much less this close.
I mean he does it with everyone so I know not to read into it too much; I'm pretty sure he's just naturally cuddly.
Wait wait wait... God FUCK it, I'm doing that thing again where I think about Kiri for much longer than is really necessary. He's a friend.
Just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
Why do I care so much? I've never cared about someone enough to think about them like this since...
-Queue record scratch-
I stop that thought there.
I never will again; my thoughts need to get with the fucking loop.
Why is this a weird new thing? I've gotta get myself together today, all this pining about is useless. Just because Kirishima is practically like... my first friend here, or whatever, doesn't mean anything. And since when have I ever been one for sentiment? I must have eaten something weird last night, I decide, and shake my head, clearing away my bothersome thoughts about my friend and head into class.
Today isn't going to be a good day.
My prediction turns out to be correct when I have not one, but two pop quizzes in different classes. I feel like death incarnate. I just want to go home and stop socializing with people forever and work out; maybe spontaneously move to the Alaskan wilderness and catch fish for a living so that I wouldn't have to ever see anyone again. Or I could hit the junkyard after school today and find more pieces of scrap metal for my project- the motorcycle I'm building in my free time... though mom said she was coming over for dinner tonight and to not be late. But then again, who cares about that old hag anyway? She'll survive.
I glare up at the clock, which seems to be going extra slowly today just to spite me. At least my last class, Calculus, is almost over at this point. If I can just hold out a little longer...
The second the bell rings, and hope starts to rise in my chest, an annoying green-haired nerd slides into the seat next to me; signature bubbly smile leaving me scowling with bitterness. "Hey, Kacchan! What's up?"
I just want to leave, I'm so tired of dealing with people...
"Nothing, nerd. I'm leaving." I stand up and push my chair in, grabbing for my orange letterman bag slung across the back of my chair with my school supplies in it.
"Wait! Kacchan!" he grabs my arm and I nearly flinch, growling at him, "I'm sorry!" His big green eyes stare up into mine apologetically, but he doesn't let go, "I just wanted to ask you if you're free this Friday night? Todoroki's having a party and I wanted to invite you!"
I don't fucking get this kid. How can somebody be this goddamned cheerful all the time? It makes me hate him more- I've known him since preschool and he's always been like this, even when I practically bullied him all throughout middle school to get him to go away. It just makes me feel guiltier every time I see him.
"I've got plans Friday."
He looks crestfallen- why does he look crestfallen? He must hate me at this point, I bet he's only doing this to be nice- and pouts. "What are they?"
Shit. Looks like I've gotta play that card. "I'm going to an Unreasonable Amount of Pilots concert with Kirishima and the others. Stop bothering me." Annnd now I have no chance of backing out on Kirishima. God fucking damn it.
"Oh." He lets go of my arm, disappointment clear on his face. I don't get how he's still so nice to me after how I've basically treated him like shit for so long. "Ok then. Well, come next time I guess!" He smiles at me again and walks away, and I don't spend the time trying to see where he's heading to, pushing my way through the after-school throng of people still mingling in the classroom and breaking out into the hallway.
I run a hand through my hair as I walk, sighing in relief. I'm finally almost done. Now I can just go and relax by myself for the next 6 hours... bliss. I nearly drool at the thought.
I hurry through the crowded hallways, filled with students trying to get to their classes and teachers and who knows what at this point, unfortunately spotting an electric blond head of hair in the crowd ahead, navigating its way towards me like a shark through a school of fish as the owner waves a hand up through the crowd trying to catch my attention.
"Bakugou! Bakugou!"
Oh, no fucking way in hell. Nope. I refuse. I turn around and walk towards the doors on the opposite side of campus. It's a longer walk, but at least I don't have to deal with Dunce Face taking my time up, and fewer people go this way anyways. My footsteps echo on the cold tiled floor as I pass classroom after classroom, avoiding the few people I see left from the earlier mob. After nearly slipping on a stray loose-leaf paper on the ground and hiding in a nearby supply closet when said shark from earlier comes hurtling past, I finally find myself opening the wide double doors leading outside, and I can physically feel the tension as it drains from my shoulders. That was a close one.
I stride to my car with long steps, not trusting my luck to last, and climb inside, tossing my bag onto the passenger seat. It's a battered old pickup truck I have to do maintenance on frequently, but it still runs for the most part. It used to be my dad's before he left, and it sat around for a couple of years until I fixed it up pretty well, painting a rusty orange color over the old coat I had found for cheap while shopping for tools. The repairs have been getting more expensive lately, seeing as it breaks down almost every other week, which is one of the main reasons that I'm trying to build a motorcycle from old metal I find in the scrap yard east of town. Just a random side project that's probably not going to work out anyways... but hey, at least it's something to do that doesn't involve socializing, right?
Fuck socializing.
I slam the door shut (accompanied by a strange rattling sound I decide to put off investigating until later) and turn the key in the ignition, once, twice, until at last the old beast revs up, the engine sputtering and sounding for all the world like an old man wheezing his final breaths, before finally starting. A harsh beeping cuts through the air as I slowly back it out of the parking spot, taking care to not stomp on the gas too hard (which I had learned the hard way, unfortunately) before finally tasting my freedom and allowing myself to exhale.
I drive the pickup out of campus grounds, deciding halfway to my house to risk being late for dinner to go and pick up my sanity real quick from the junkyard first. The drive there is peaceful and quiet, everything I want it to be, and when I arrive and park I navigate through the piles of trash and random shit until I find what I've long dubbed my "secret corner", equipped with piles of mechanic's equipment I've either stolen, bought or found over the years, my redtooth speaker, and my soon-to-be motorcycle (if it can even be called that honestly).
So far the strange lump sitting there was hardly more than some metal, a shock absorber, engine, and a singular wheel I had found a few trash piles over, stuck together with a few screws and metal plates. And a heaping dose of willpower of course. Still, I had gotten lucky and found a headlight the other day which I'm hoping to attach (somehow) today with a couple of other small parts I've been collecting.
I queue up my working playlist, don my old and grease-caked heavy-duty gloves and get to work.
Several sweaty hours later I've managed to sort of secure the headlight on with some wiring and welding (and lots of cursing). He doesn't look too bad... I'm actually kind of proud of how he's turning out so far, seeing as I've never built a motorcycle from scratch before. It should only take maybe another six or seven months of hard labor - optimistically, a helpful voice chimes in my head before I stamp it down violently - to fix him up enough to ride on. I can only imagine how that's going to feel when he's finally complete. I bet it feels like flying; like you could leave all your problems behind and just let go, feeling the wind on your arms and the rumble of the solid, dependable machine beneath you.
I wipe off the sweat beading on my forehead with the back of my arm. I'm sweating so much it must be at least 90 degrees out here; I took off my tank top a while ago and my water bottle's empty. I sit down on a hunk of scrap metal under the shade of my tarp, trying to salvage any amount of coolness I can, and run my fingers through my greasy hair, only succeeding in making it dirtier and greasier. Maybe I should hit up the gym on my way back in town since I'm already so filthy... I check my phone, the battery at 9% since I've been playing music this whole time, to see that it's almost 6. Mom's going to want me to be there and cook dinner for her soon. It's not that I mind - actually I rather like cooking - it's more the company that I'm not excited for. I sigh and compile my things into the pickup, deciding not to give a shit about her. She's been dropping by often to "check on me" and see how school's going and talk and generally be an annoyance until I manage to push her out of the door, though it usually takes a couple of hours at the least. I mean I see why she'd be worried about me after all of the stuff that happened last year (We moved here early this year for the start of school because of it). But still, I've been looking at therapists lately and have plans to get one soon. It's not like she can do anything that they can't, but... I can kinda see why she's worried.
I mean, I don't think I'm going to try to kill myself again, but in her eyes, I guess you can't be too sure.