Katsuki Bakugou

The snapping pops of Bakugou's knuckles being cracked severed the silence of the apartment. Bakugou and Todoroki were in the midst of completing the assignment that Aizawa had given them, and for quite a while, only the soft sighs of their breaths and subtle movements swept through the air. Aizawa's eyes remained on the papers he was grading, but out of the corner of Bakugou's eye, he could see how Todoroki glanced at him.

How does this awkward silence not make him hella uncomfortable? pondered Bakugou. I can't stand this. But I also can't handle being in crowded places. Ugh, I feel sweaty yet freezing. Like I'm closed into a smoky box. I can't focus. Goddammit. Fuck anxiety. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, but he felt as though someone had been squeezing his lungs with each breath.

"Bakugou?" abruptly queried Aizawa. "Is something the matter?"

Calm down, for fuck's sake.

"No," Bakugou muttered before biting his lower lip and observing how Todoroki stared at him with dubious eyes. "Don't give me that look, Icyhot." His pencil began to tremble.

I hate that he knows how I behave when I get anxious, Bakugou couldn't help but inwardly expatiate. He knows I'm lying. He knows I'm sweating bullets. He knows I'm vulnerable right now. Don't let him take advantage of you again when you're most vulnerable.

"Sorry," was all Todoroki had to say; he nonchalantly resumed his work.

Bakugou narrowed his eyes. "As if someone like you would be sorry about anything. Asshat." He clenched his jaw.

"Why don't you two take a break?" Aizawa proposed. "Let's make dinner. Then, you can both work on your own." He nodded and stood up. "What do you two want?"

"I'm fine with anything," Todoroki dejectedly sighed.

"I don't care," Bakugou murmured.

It better be healthy. How much am I gonna have to restrict myself before I'm content? Fucking kills me to know he definitely weighs less than I do. He's also taller than me. Goddammit. I hate it… I envy his thinness so fucking much. What, is he just trying to piss me off because he knows I hate it when I feel like I weigh the most out of everyone I'm with? Ever since people started admiring how I look… I hate him. I envy him. I…

"Then it'll be a surprise," Aizawa replied while walking into the kitchen. "You'll have to buy your own groceries and make your own meals, but I can help with dinner and the groceries if you're both busy. Now, Bakugou, get the rice. Todoroki, start washing and peeling some carrots."

"Don't tell me what to do."

Reminds me of when we used to cook dinner together, Bakugou found himself reminiscing while pouring the rice into a rice cooker. Teasing him about how he sucked at cooking… He smiled the most I've ever seen him smile. Most handsome fucking smile I've ever seen. Beautiful in every goddamn way. Wish I could be like him. Burning envy crawled through Bakugou's veins. Wish I had his pretty eyes. His pretty smile. His pretty voice. But, instead, I envy everything about him. I fucking hate myself, but I'll tell myself that he's the one I hate. I do because of what he did to me, but then again…was I never enough for him in the first place? No. Don't start thinking like that. He's the one at fault.

But the things he said and the moments we shared… Were those really all fake? Why'd he have trusted me with his cutting problem if they were? Dammit, Aizawa's fucking words are getting to my head. Bakugou unconsciously twined his fingers with Todoroki's. I'm so confused. I don't fucking know. How the hell are we even gonna be able to tolerate each other for three months? That fucker's gonna judge my habits. Knowing I could turn my back to the truth I hate so much, I was able to deal with that, but now, I can't escape constantly feeling inferior to him. Shit…

Upon wading back into reality, Bakugou noticed that Todoroki was staring at him. Then, he realized how his breaths had hastened and his expression had contorted into a scowl. Finally, Bakugou felt the sensation of a hand gently squeezing his.

Awkward silence engulfed the room over the chime of the water from the tap hitting the bottom of the sink.

Don't fucking look at me, Bakugou thought while averting his eyes from his ex. I'm still used to holding his hand whenever I get anxious about shit. Knowing he'd be there… Goddammit, why did you have to cheat on me?! Tears pricked his eyes, but he refused to allow them to escape from the peripheries of his eyelids. I want what we had back. I don't want to hate you, but that's the only way I can even begin to handle my own feelings. His eyes widened as Todoroki cautiously embraced him. You…asshole. Why…are you being so nice to me? No. You're just trying to wrap me around your finger again. Never again…

"Get off…" hissed Bakugou in a forlorn whisper.

Todoroki silently obeyed, and with that, the three prepared dinner in silence. By the time that the fried rice had finished cooking, Bakugou was ecstatic yet nettled; his stomach growled, but he was unable to ignore the malevolent voices nipping at his ears.

You'll definitely go over your limit with that. Look at how fucking thin he is. You could look like that.

"Enjoy." The mundanity of Aizawa's voice reminded Bakugou of Todoroki's relentless insouciance. "I'll be off, but I have a new task for the both of you: think about what the most difficult thing was for you today and this week, and what the best thing was. Talk about those with each other tonight. I'll see you both tomorrow." He nodded and soon departed from the apartment.

I don't wanna talk about that shit with him, Bakugou internally hissed. What is this? Therapy? Fuck off. He watched as Todoroki began to walk back to his room. What the hell? No, no. That asshole hasn't even eaten today. Wish he'd gain weight so I can feel better about myself. How fucking selfish and petty.

"Hold the fuck up," Bakugou sibilated, halting Todoroki in his tracks. "Haul your ass back over here." He pointed to the pan full of steaming fried rice. "Eat."

Todoroki avoided eye contact with Bakugou. "I…don't want to right now." His frail words were like brittle leaves being snapped.

"Why?"

"I just don't."

"What's your problem?"

"Nothing. What's yours? You held my hand earlier."

"Bullshit. At least I'm not anorexic."

"Don't put that label over my head."

"Too weak to handle the truth?"

"I'm not."

"Tell that to your blatant issues with food. Prove you're not."

"Fine," Todoroki sighed. "It's…too much of a reminder sometimes." Todoroki's body trembled as he reluctantly grabbed a bowl and walked up to the pan of fried rice.

Bakugou furrowed his brows and followed suit after Todoroki. "Hah?" He waited for Todoroki to scoop up a helping of fried rice before doing the same.

He didn't even get that much. Tch. Then I won't get much either.

"Something I won't be talking about," Todoroki murmured with eyes bereft of light and words devoid of emotion. "But I don't have any issues with food or eating like you do." His pointed jab was a soft, dull utterance. "Ah… Has it gotten any better? I know you mentioned that you were considering therapy."

I still fucking hate that you know about that pathetic side of me. You'll never fucking understand how pathetic and weak it makes me feel. But I'm not allowed to show any weaknesses. After all…all I am to everyone else is my 'indestructible,' explosive ego. Anything less would be seen as weak. You don't have to deal with feeling so fucking sad, angry, anxious, and pressured with every waking moment. I'm so fucking sick of feeling, and here you are…living with everything I want.

Bakugou shrugged, deciding to dismiss his ex's vexing retaliation. "I don't do it nearly as much," he admitted in a gruff sigh. "I've made progress, unlike you. But I don't need therapy. I just need to meet my goals."

"I still think therapy would be helpful if you're still doing it and see yourself the same way. Your habits and ways of thinking aren't healthy. I know you know that. Bakugou, you're not at all fat."

No matter what you say to me, I'll always feel so fucking fat compared to thin people like you. Doesn't matter if I'm not—I feel like I am when I compare myself to others. When enough people like a specific thing about you, you try to make that part even more ideal…whether or not it's self-destructive. Doesn't matter. Bakugou blinked while conjuring up an absent-minded response. 'Make it better since it's what everyone wants.' Get better feedback, push yourself more, get ensnared by the vicious cycle of judgment. It feels like I'm not even 'me' anymore when I've let society dictate who I am. Fucking pathetic.

"I don't wanna hear it from someone that refuses to get help for slitting his wrists and doing suicidal shit."

But something he doesn't wanna say, huh? Bakugou thought while he and Todoroki ate in silence. Must've been after we broke up. Unless it was the breakup. Doubt it. Then what the hell happened to him? What the fuck could've turned his soba-loving ass into this? He noticed the discomfort scrawled across Todoroki's face. Fucking try-hard.

Once Todoroki had promptly eaten all of his fried rice, he muttered, "Is that proof enough for you?" He lifted his bowl and rinsed it in the sink.

"Tch. How long can you keep that lie standing?"

Todoroki didn't say a word as he clutched his stomach and briskly returned to his room, so Bakugou consumed half of his meal while calculating his calorie intake for the day. As he washed out his bowl, he sighed in relief when his estimated calorie count was below two thousand.

I'm supposed to eat a lot to make up for how much I burn from working out, but just thinking about how many calories I'm going through sickens me, Bakugou thought to himself as he began to walk back to his room. I envy his thinness so damn much. God, when did I start obsessing over this? It feels so normal. Fuck the nagging pressure from society. I hate doing things the way people want me to, but when all you fucking see is praise for the things people like about you, how could that not get to your head? So, when someone else has a more ideal version of everything that people like about you…