Katsuki Bakugou

Nestled in Bakugou's arms was a fragile, sleeping boy. Bakugou glanced around Todoroki's dorm as though an answer to his beautiful quandary would seek him out, but with the echo of a sigh, he slowly reached for Todoroki's poem.

After all this, there's no way in hell I'm leaving him alone, Bakugou sighed internally. I wanna keep a close eye on him. This fucking poem… How he didn't want to tell me he's not at his best but not his worst… What he said about his indifference… Furtively nudging Todoroki onto the futon so as to preclude his awakening, Bakugou soon stood up and stared at Todoroki's nightstand. Why do I get the feeling he has a suicide note somewhere? I don't wanna go through his shit, but I can't shake this goddamn feeling. Just…a quick check.

Surreptitiously sliding open the drawer of the nightstand, Bakugou was faced with the medications that Recovery Girl had prescribed to Todoroki, painkillers, a blade, shards of glass, bandages, a small notebook, and a pencil. He espied Todoroki before extracting the notebook and slowly opening it up. He squinted his eyes and read:

Three grapes.

Skimming the same page again, Bakugou furrowed his brows at the fact that only two words had been written on one page of the notebook.

What the fuck? pondered Bakugou while he invested his attention in the next page over. That was random as fuck. A whole-ass page for that? Don't tell me the rest of this is blank. Blank, blank, blank, blank, blank, blank, blank, blank… Huh?

Fuyumi made me eat a sandwich. I threw it up. Just like my streak. Seeing these blank pages made me feel so much better…until now. It's ruined.

The remainder of the notebook was empty, except for the last page:

I remembered that day again. It's all my fault. I influenced her. But all I could do was watch. I ran. But all I could do was watch her. I ran as fast as I could. But all I could do was watch her climb the tree. She didn't see me. I couldn't even scream. All I could do was watch her writhe. I couldn't do anything. I was standing right in front of her. But I climbed, and it broke the branch. What if that hadn't been enough?

While silently cerebrating the implications of the notebook's contents, Bakugou placed the notebook back in the drawer. He blinked heavily yet rapidly as though his eyelids had been sewn together by thick strands of spiderwebs. Then, with a quiet, drawn-out sigh from his nostrils, he sat beside Todoroki on the futon. He could recall his mind fading into a blank slate of exhaustion before such an enticing invitation to rest was splintered by movements independent of his own body.

From the ashes of the night that dimmed the room, Todoroki rose up from the futon. Bakugou kept his eyes parted ever so slightly, and from the blurred, thin slits of his vision, he groggily watched as Todoroki approached the nightstand. The dusty, chalk-like cry of the drawer being opened skidded into his ears, and soon, he heard the scratching sound of Todoroki scrawling something into his notebook.

Did he have a nightmare or something? Bakugou wondered as a leaden silence cloaked the air. I can't see shit. Tired as hell. Something rattled. Wait. His meds? I think he grabbed something else too. As Todoroki turned his back to Bakugou to face the bathroom, Bakugou forced his brick eyelids open. Notebook's open on the nightstand. He's got…the fucking blade in his hand. Not a shard of glass? Shit.

While Todoroki covertly began to slink towards the bathroom, Bakugou asseverated, "And what the hell do you think you're doing?" He stood up to his feet and observed how Todoroki promptly stuffed both the blade and his bottle of pills into his pockets.

"Nothing," Todoroki muttered with frost varnishing over the strength in his voice. "Why do you… Don't read that. Bakugou, please don't read that." He gangled up to Bakugou, who was lifting up the notebook Todoroki had left open.

"I'm fucking reading it," hissed the ash-blonde as he began to skim what Todoroki had written:

'I'm sorry, Bakugou, but this'—

Bakugou's thoughts were incinerated with the notebook as the pages erupted into flame from the roaring gale of fire Todoroki summoned. With a thrawn lour rippling across his countenance, Bakugou smashed his foot against the floor in front of him like the hoof of an irate bull.

This isn't gonna go the way you want. You're not dying tonight. It's only gonna be an attempt. Just another fucking dream. Suicide isn't going to take a burden away from the world. No. Hell no. Todoroki, if you fucking commit suicide, you're burdening more people than you can imagine. Let this suicide attempt be the last, goddammit!

This better be the last attempt. Why did I even… I hate how fucking much my mind hates me.

"What'd you put in your pockets?" Bakugou hissed at point-blank like a spitting cobra; venom and vitriol oozed from his whetted words.

Todoroki shook his head, but he didn't deign to step back. "Nothing," he replied tersely

Thud!

"Liar," snarled Bakugou with seething verve.

Todoroki extracted a small bottle of pills from his pocket. "Fine…"

Step back from the edge.

"Drop the pills on the floor."

"Wh—"

"I'm not fucking around!"

Cla-tat! Clack! Tat, tat…

Apoplectic solicitude fumed in Bakugou's eyes. "Empty your other pocket," he spat in a baritone whisper.

"There's noth—" Todoroki interjected himself with his own silence once he noticed Bakugou's piercing expression. "I…" His fingers slithered into his pocket, and after dejectedly extracting the blade within, Todoroki expeditiously thrust the blade at his wrist.