Shouto Todoroki

The reverberating silence of a thousand glass footsteps scraped through Todoroki's ears. Lethal, mesmerizing voices bit into the depths of the profound that was his head. Silence and the essence of sound coalesced, spilling out into jagged rivulets of thought.

Todoroki never had any issues with silence or awkward silence, and in fact, he preferred silence over being forced to listen to other people. However, silence was also the gateway to an insurgence of his unwanted thoughts.

I haven't left my room since yesterday, Todoroki realized as he dragged himself out of bed to prepare for Aizawa's daily visit. I don't think Bakugou wants to see my face. I don't blame him. From his perspective, I built up our relationship together to its zenith just to pull the rug out from beneath his feet and send it all crashing down. I had to… I didn't want to do this to you, but I'm doing this for you, Bakugou. He debated on whether or not to shower, but he ultimately decided to wait. I'd tell you the truth, but I would never forgive myself if that ended up being a fatal mistake. I can't tell anyone the truth, and that hurts in ways I can't describe, but I'll swallow the pain if it means you're safe.

After changing into fresh clothing, washing his face, and brushing his teeth, Todoroki began to stare his reflection down. I'm just a sickening shell of what I once was. I was getting better…slowly but surely. I was proud of my progress. I felt the difference. But that night had to happen. I'm arguably at my worst. He tore his eyes away from the mirror and sieved his hands. I'm disgusted with myself. That's essentially the only feeling I have left. Everything else is just numb. I'm fine with it, but at the same time, I want to feel something again.

Todoroki felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he could foretell the identity of the person contacting him and decided to ignore the text message. He then exited his room and poured himself a glass of water. His stomach growled at him, but he simply placed his hand over its vibrating surface.

While sitting down at the nearby sofa, Bakugou soon accompanied Todoroki. "So yer alive? Thought you mighta died." Bakugou jammed his hands into his pockets and stood roughly eight feet from Todoroki.

So you wouldn't have cared…if I'd killed myself? You don't care. Understandable, and I know how you feel—or, perhaps, what you don't feel—but…

Todoroki retained his silence, so Bakugou scoffed, "How 'bout you make use of your time and go eat something?" Whether or not there was an undertone of malice or harrowed sincerity in his words was unknown.

"I'm not hungry."

I want to enjoy food like I used to, but I can't. It's…too much of a reminder. I feel sick just thinking about it.

"Bullshit."

"Why do you care?"

"You're a disgrace to my fucking eyes, you skinny piece of shit."

Oh, cogitated Todoroki as Bakugou's scowl deepened. That's contradictory. I know he wants to be thin. I see.

Todoroki expelled a sigh. "That's ironic coming from someone that restricts how many calories—"

"Shut the fuck up," Bakugou vilified. "At least I'm not starving myself. I know you're hungry, so go fucking eat something. And at least I'm not pathetic enough to cut myself. Why do you even bother? At the end of the day, it doesn't do jack shit, does it? You're already too depressed to feel anything." He rolled his shoulders a bit and then crossed his arms.

'Too depressed to feel anything.' I don't like that description. That's not what it is. But I deserve it… And I feel the adrenaline rush. I feel the burning pain. I feel the dripping blood. I feel something, even if it's not necessarily an emotion.

"Bakugou, that's like if I told you that you can talk to others just fine, so don't be anxious in crowds. And I don't think I'm depressed. But…" He glanced at his left wrist. "This makes me feel something."

"What? Pain? So you're a masochist?"

"I think that better suits you, Bakugou. You're only hurting yourself by doing this. I know you know that. Why do you hate yourself so much?"

Bakugou curled his lips back as a blistering wave of silence crashed over the two. "Don't fucking assume shit about me," he hissed like a livid cat. "I hate you, you bastard. Wh—"

Their conversation was rent by the dull thuds of someone knocking at the apartment door. Bakugou offered Todoroki a vicious glare before answering the door and allowing Aizawa to enter the apartment.

I know Aizawa wouldn't hurt me intentionally, but I can't bring myself to trust that belief, Todoroki thought to himself while Aizawa greeted him and Bakugou. I never thought it would happen to me. Why me? Was that my punishment for thinking I could be happy again? I can't help but feel an intense void of disgust in my guts when I'm alone with anyone but a select few people.

"So," sighed Aizawa, "did you two talk things out last night?" He placed a thick book atop the coffee table that was placed in front of the sofa.

"I don't think we accomplished much," Todoroki admitted.

"And whose fault is that?" retaliated Bakugou in a splenetic snarl.

"You resorted to… Never mind. In the end, you walked away without being satisfied with the answers you got."

"Because guess who's not worth my goddamn time?"

"Then why do you bother talking to me at all?"

"You—"

"That's enough," Aizawa sharply asserted before taking a sip from his juice pouch. "What matters is that you both put in the effort to talk to each other at all. Regardless, are you both ready for the lesson to begin?"

I'd rather sleep and ignore reality, Todoroki internally sighed while nodding his head. Forget about everything I have to do. Forget about him. Forget about the things weighing me down every day. I feel like I have to fight against myself to see another tomorrow, and even then, I don't want to, but I still press on. What's holding me back from ending it all? I really don't know. I have so many reasons to die, and yet, I choose to keep living without a purpose. Oh. I guess I almost forgot… It's partially for Bakugou's sake, but I wouldn't say that's my reason not to die. For now, I'll continue to live as this disgusting, selfish, worthless being. But…I really do just want to disappear from here. What point is there in living when you can't care about anyone or anything, no matter how hard you try to convince yourself you care?