Katsuki Bakugou

Goddammit, Bakugou internally hissed as he checked the time on his phone. Why can I never stay asleep for more than an hour or two? No matter how tired I am, I can't stay asleep for very long. Tch. When I was with Icyhot, I slept better if he was at my side. He sleeps all the fucking time. Now, I bet he's sleeping with that asshole. It still hurts. It's like a splinter in the sole of my foot, but no matter how much I dig and scratch to try and remove it, it just exacerbates the wound.

"Shouto, is that a smile I see?"

"Yeah. You make me happy, Katsuki. I want to smile…because you're here with me."

"Stop making me blush, asshole."

"You're adorable, Katsuki. I hope you know that."

"Shut up…"

"No."

"Guess I'll just have to shut you up with my lips, huh?"

Bakugou clenched his jaw as though tightening it with a wrench until his teeth creaked. Even his soul itself creaked with lament as his memories scraped together like two slabs of metal shrieking in protest. He wanted to throw his hands over his ears as though it would stop up the torrent of memories flooding back to him, but all he could do was listen to the shrill ringing in his veins.

This is the shit that drinking makes me forget about, Bakugou inwardly growled while rolling his shoulders and grabbing his phone. I never had an issue with drinking until he cheated on me. Tch. He helped me a lot with my self-esteem and self-image, but that all burned to the ground. Always calmed me down when my anxiety got the best of me. Fuck society's standards. I want high expectations for myself so people don't look down on me, but I don't hold myself to those high expectations, and I'm terrified of fucking up. Dammit.

I just want to forget, and I don't want to feel anything. I get that moment of respite from drinking, but there's always a crippling low that follows and pulls me deeper into this pit. He doesn't feel shit. I don't care if it's probably because he's depressed—I'm so fucking sick of being weak. I'm sick of crying over things I can't change. I'm sick of hating myself, my body, and everyone else. Why do I have these problems? I feel so fucking weak and ashamed for having them at all. Especially that.

Men could never have those kinds of problems. If they did, how fucking weak and laughable they'd be. It fucking hurts. I feel like I'm the only fucking guy that feels this way. What man wants to be thin when anything less than strong makes him weak? What man cries over his reflection and weight? What man makes himself throw up to cut down the calories? No man…according to fucking society. If you can't see it, it doesn't exist. If it does exist, you're looked down on and given shitty fucking labels that stick with you for life, so why the fuck wouldn't you hide it, no matter how much it's killing you? No one wants a person with—

Bakugou's thoughts were sundered as a dull thud resonated through the apartment. He stared in the direction of the sound before he tossed himself out of bed. With furrowed brows and a chest that threatened to split from the blistering rate at which his heart bashed against it, Bakugou gingerly crept out of his room and into the hallway.

There on the floor was Todoroki, who had collapsed to his hands and knees. The movements of his chest were rapid and minimal, and a grimace was plastered across his face.

"What, don't tell me another drunk man tripped and brought you down with him," Bakugou scoffed, seemingly unperturbed as he approached Todoroki. "Tch. Really, though, cut the bullshit and tell me what's been going on." He splayed his fingers and began to outstretch his hand, but with haste, he closed his hand into a fist.

I can't even fucking lie to myself about this: I am worried. He usually has some kinda new injury almost every day, but I assumed it was from training with Endeavor. I've been starting to think he's being abused because he's only gotten more secretive about it. He openly mentions his training with Endeavor with me, but sometimes, he'll brush off his injuries and won't bring up his training. He needs help, at least. What's really going on, Icyhot?

Todoroki shook his head and staggered up to his quaking feet with the aid of the wall for support. "Nothing. I'm fine. I just…passed out for a second." His voice was hoarse, and his lilt frequently fluctuated.

Why doesn't he just pin it all on Endeavor's training? Don't tell me he wants to defend the bastard.

As Todoroki clutched his stomach and contorted his expression into a ferocious grimace, Bakugou grumbled, "Lying really is all you're good for. If you don't tell me who's abusing you, I'm talking to the Teach about this shit." He noticed how Todoroki's eyes widened slightly, but he promptly glanced away.

Doubt he's gonna give me a 'how did you know?' reaction, but I still wanna see his reaction to a point-blank assumption.

"No one… Bakugou, I'm fine. Leave me alone."

"You're fucking limping, Todoroki."

"It's nothing."

"So all you are is a lying, worthless sack of shit?"

"I don't disagree."

"So you just fucking admitted to lying to me?"

"I'm going to bed. I know you don't care about me. You're only doing this for your grade, aren't you?" Todoroki winced again and rubbed his shoulder. "I just tumbled down some stairs. That was it." He gave a hollow, lifeless chuckle, but somewhere in the glacial profounds of his eyes was a thin crack in his defenses; something sour like fear oozed from it, silently pleading for help. "Kind of funny, isn't it? The smallest mistakes leave the biggest impacts sometimes." He hobbled towards his room.

Bakugou grit his teeth and swallowed down the lump in his throat. "Dumbass…" he hissed under his breath. "Do you think I'm gonna ignore abuse and laugh it off like you are?"

Todoroki came to a halt, but he did not look back at Bakugou. "Funny coming from someone that deliberately hurt me where he knew it would hurt the most. I know that's just one of your coping mechanisms and a part of your pride, but it doesn't mean your actions don't affect me. Then again, what right do I have to say that when I did the same to you? And even if someone was abusing me, what's a few more injuries to my body? But…I guess that's not enough." With that, Todoroki slipped away into his room.

I need to tell Aizawa about this, Bakugou thought to himself while he briskly returned to his room as well. I don't care if he hates me more than he already does. If anything, I deserve all of his hatred for being so goddamn selfish and weak. Even I can't stand myself. His hands trembled as he pulled out his phone and deliberated over whether or not to contact Aizawa immediately. The world's blurring. My chest is tight. Fuck. Just get it over with before your anxiety gets worse. But I can't. Dammit. My hands won't move. I feel like I'm being dragged underwater. Shit.

Then, a notification from Bakugou's phone struck his eyes, and he found himself completely paralyzed when he realized it was a picture of Todoroki smiling with his head against the shoulder of Higoro. Feeling his chest sink and tighten, he attempted to steady his rapid breaths and assuage the anxiety that subjugated his body, but the apprehension conjured up from the illuminated screen of his phone seemed to swim through his fingertips and sear his veins. He clutched at his chest as his phone slipped from his hand, and lowering his head, he slammed his eyes shut. Feeling as though he was stuffed into a box with a supply of oxygen that was swiftly depleting, he found himself gasping for air.

Shuddering with wide, desperate eyes, Bakugou could only feel his numb body and the sensation of the cold, dry air slashing into his tongue and throat. He could not recall whether or not he'd been frantically thinking about something, but when clarity at last returned to his mind, he realized that he was clutching a nearby pillow as though it had been a hand.

"Coward…" the ash-blonde lambasted himself.

Inhaling deeply, Bakugou released his sweltering grip on the pillow and began to pluck up the confidence and resolve to message Aizawa. His heart continued to slam against his chest, but he forced himself to pick up his phone. With frigid, sweaty fingertips, Bakugou ruminated over what to say.

I don't fucking know how to ask for help for myself, so how the hell do I ask for someone else to be helped? Help him. I can't. Even if I can make fun of him for this to feel better about myself, I know I'm gonna regret the fuck out of it in the future. I need to stop being so fucking weak, childish, and pathetic. But I don't want anyone else's help, even if it's what's best for me. I can't bring myself to get help or show anyone else how fucking weak I really am, even though I'm so fucking sick of being like this. I only ever manage to dig myself deeper into this horrible cycle.

A part of me that I hate knows damn well that I need help, but needing help isn't a part of the ideal person I wanna be. I want to be that ideal person now and have it be that way forever, but I'm not, and I can't get there without help. I'm so fucking conflicted… But at least my problems aren't as bad as his. Tch. No way in hell am I getting help before he does. I knew he needed help before, and now, he needs it more than ever. Since I don't know who else to ask…it's gonna have to be Aizawa.