Bakugou could see nothing but the luminescence of his phone with slurred lines of inky text. He could feel nothing but the numbness of his twitching fingers. He could hear nothing but the insanity-inducing trill of silence being strummed in his ears.

This has to be a fucking lie, Bakugou attempted to convince himself as his feet his the floor; his body trembled. He wouldn't do this… He's okay. I'll go to his dorm, and he'll be there.

As though shambling through a mire, Bakugou managed a relatively brisk walk, but he felt like his bones were strung together by ribbons of honey, and that his joints were filled with glue. He couldn't remember anything he'd seen while plodding towards Todoroki's dorm, but he could recall walking a path that was dinned into his memory.

I'm just tired and read his emails wrong, Bakugou reasoned with himself upon reaching Todoroki's dorm. Nothing happened… He's alive. He didn't kill himself. He's there. He's fucking here with me. My fucking boyfriend didn't kill himself… With knuckles that looked as though a ghost had possessed each one, Bakugou knocked on the door demarcating him from the truth. Why am I so anxious? He'll answer…just like he always does. He'll answer just like he always does… Like he always does…

Time bit into Bakugou's chest with each second that passed, and he found himself occasionally biting his lower lip or running one of his hands through his hair. Every second simply seemed like a needle transfixing his sanity. So, when Bakugou could withstand the pinpricks of silence and waiting no longer, he splayed his numb, sweaty fingers and tried the handle of the door.

There was no abrupt resistance to his efforts.

His dorm is never unlocked, Bakugou realized while forcing himself to push back the wall obscuring his view of the truth. He's fine. He's fine… Lifting his wide, vacant eyes from the floor to the dorm, Bakugou immediately saw a swaying set of legs, and scanning further up, he felt his soul dissolve into dust. No… It's not fucking true…

"I love you, Katsuki. Happy birthday to Us."

Todoroki was dangling from the ceiling by the noose around his neck. His skin was as pale as a ghost, but in contrast to that were the rivers of crimson winding around his hands and spiraling down his digits. Residual beadlets of blood collected at his fingertips and crashed to the tatami mats below his body that were saturated with blood.

Bakugou collapsed to his knees. The torpefying shock that chilled his blood wriggled through his bones. For a while, he stared blankly at the tatami mats between his knees, but after realizing that he'd been staring, Bakugou reluctantly glanced back up at the bloodied body of his boyfriend.

What…do I do? he asked himself while rubbing his temples and blinking heavily. My boyfriend…is dead. Shouto Todoroki…killed himself. I never noticed… I never noticed what was going on. Do I call the police? What do I say? Fuck. None of this fucking feels real. I feel like I'm looking at reality instead of living in it. Did he…leave any notes behind? I hate that I'm too shocked and detached to be fazed by the fucking corpse of my goddamn boyfriend that's right in front of me. He shook his head and ambled towards Todoroki's desk, and there, resting atop its surface was a thin stack of papers.

An abrupt rush of nausea swished around Bakugou's stomach as he read the first paper on the desk:

There's a lot I should confess before my hands can no longer write. First off, I wanted this. I want to die, but at the same time, I don't. If disappearing makes the world a better place, then I'm happy to leave. If my existence hurts everyone more than it could possibly help others, then I'm happy to erase that existence. If my vanishing is what the majority want but can't say to my face, then I'm happy to vanish from this world. But I can't help but wonder if it's possible for me to be the reason why someone doesn't give up on their dreams. Why someone can wear a genuine smile. Why someone chooses to keep living. But I'm too scared of fucking up other peoples' lives—or even just their day—by simply existing.

Bakugou turned over the paper.

Hey, Katsuki, if you're reading this, you were right to suspect my typos whenever I left for a while. Why? Well, it's kind of hard to write, honestly. I don't want to admit it. My hand freezes up whenever I try to write it out. But…I left to cut myself. I always made terrible excuses, but this is the truth. I usually left to do that if you were very kind to me, or if I had a lot of reasons to hate myself more than usual. I feel like you have to lie to me and to yourself just to be kind to me, because what have I really done to deserve so much kindness, forgiveness, and love? I've just been selfish, lying to myself and everyone else that I've been selfless. Whenever you want to know how I'm doing, I always feel uncomfortable. I always have to lie. I always have to pretend like I'm happy.

Am I sad? I wouldn't say that, no matter how many times I've cried for no reason at all. I don't know why. Sometimes, I come back to my dorm after school, and I cry. But I don't really feel anything. I guess I feel empty. Like there's nothing left. Like I can't feel anything. Like I'm so empty that I want to throw up that emptiness, but I can't, so I end up crying empty, meaningless tears. I don't know what's wrong with me, but it feels so normal that I can't bear the thought of letting go of what's torturing me. It's a part of who I am now. Why did I let this happen? I don't know…

But I do have a bad, bad cutting problem. I haven't made it a day without cutting in at least months. Every day, I cut myself for my flaws, the mistakes I've made, and the things I regret. I cut again just to feel something. I cut again whenever I get sudden urges to mutilate myself; it's hard to describe how it feels, but my head starts pounding, it becomes the only thing I can think of, and my body and mind tell me to go through with it. It's like hot chains of desperation are wrapping around my head. And I cut again whenever someone is too kind to me or shows that they care about me.

I deserve to be like this. I'm so fucking selfish… I'm so fucking burdensome… I'm just a waste of space. Even after I'm gone, I'll take up and taint portions of your memories. I sound so pathetic, don't I? Sorry. But I would never wish what I've put myself through upon anyone. No matter how unrealistic it is, I can't help but wish that, by dying, no one would hate themselves, want to hurt themselves, or want to commit suicide. It's sad to think that, as time goes on, all of this has just become more and more common for people to experience. At what point do depression, self-harm, and other mental health issues become normal? When does abnormal become normal? Then again, what is normal? I think it's highly subjective.

I have the noose in my hand now. I'm smiling, but I'm also crying. Is this what happiness is? Is this all going to be over? I'm…really relieved, in all honesty. It's so hard to get up. It's so hard to do simple things like get ready for school, walk to class, or make food. It's so hard to get through one day, no matter how normal and numb it all feels. Until the end, I really was just selfish and only thinking of myself, wasn't I?

As Bakugou finished reading the final notes that Todoroki had left behind, he finally felt a warm liquid pooling at the peripheries of his eyes. He blinked, but no matter how many times he blinked, he was unable to clear away the suicide notes in his hands or the image of Todoroki's body strung up in a noose. His tears slithered down his cheeks, but they were empty, meaningless tears.

How could I not have realized…what you were going through? Bakugou asked himself while resting his elbows on the desk and tightly clasping his hair with his shaking hands. You dumbass… You were never selfish… Everything you did…was always for someone else. Goddammit. GODDAMMIT! WHY DID YOU NEVER CARE ABOUT YOURSELF?! WHY WERE YOU ONLY THINKING ABOUT HOW EVERYONE ELSE FELT?! Bakugou unconsciously began to pierce his skin with his nails as he curled his digits into his hair. Why…did you have to kill yourself? Why was that…the one wish you had? Nothing I do can bring you back… You're gone. You're…gone. No… No. Why… SHOUTO, WHY?!