Katsuki Bakugou

It was four in the morning, and Bakugou was unable to sleep. He'd gone to bed at midnight, but his mind was like an undying flame that fed on his thoughts. His body yearned for even a moment of repose, but his mind refused to rest.

What if he doesn't come back? pondered Bakugou, who turned over onto his left side. What if Endeavor fucking killed him since he's so damn fragile? Is he safe right now? What would've happened if I'd kept him here with me? Would that have been better? He ejected a hefty jet of air from his lips and pulled his blanket over his shoulder. Whether I love you or I hate you, I'm always thinking about you. I always feel a strong emotion towards you. I always want to tell you something. God, I'm fucking pathetic…

Then, Bakugou glanced at his phone on the patch of vacant space beside his left elbow. He deliberated over the idea he'd conjured up, but he followed both his impulses and his gut and picked up his phone. Speed-dialing Todoroki, Bakugou curled his hands into fists and felt his chest quake in the interludes of buzzing and silence.

Pick up, dammit. I know it's four in the morning, but I can't sleep because of you. I know it's ultimately because of me, b—

"Icyhot?!" Bakugou shouted in a vehement whisper, jolting upright and causing his blanket to swish onto the floor.

Like a threadbare cloth, Todoroki's voice was perforated with holes and cracks of air. "I'm fine…" he replied in a hoarse huff. "Is…something wrong?"

"You don't sound fine to me," grumbled Bakugou.

"I'm…just tired. I-I'm on way… On my way back. Bye." Todoroki hung up the phone, leaving Bakugou to sit in the darkness of his room.

"What?!" Bakugou hissed aloud to himself. "Shouto, what the fuck is happening?!" Sinking his nails into the flesh surrounding the sides of his skull, Bakugou inhaled slowly in an attempt to rebuild the ashes of his sangfroid.

I'll fucking rip Endeavor in half if he did any serious damage. You fucking stuttered and couldn't even speak properly. What the actual fuck happened? What did he fucking do to you!? Tch. No matter what happened, you'll say it was nothing. Shouto, you better come back in one piece, goddammit…

For the next thirty-seven minutes, Bakugou paced beside the apartment door for what he felt was like thirty-seven hours. He occasionally glanced out the window to the entrance of the apartment complex outside, but he unlocked his phone every three minutes or so. Cold sweat clung to his back, and his stomach had been crushed into a steaming, compact wad. His numb fingers trembled, and his heartbeat was like an incessant, insanity-inducing knock on the wall that was his skull.

Then, after desperately keeping close surveillance on his phone and the apartment premises, Bakugou noticed a figure hobbling towards the paved entry to the apartment complex. His heart began to bite his ears, and he felt as though each of his steps could have woken a neighborhood not from their intensity, but simply from the sound echoing through his body.

Once Bakugou heard an uneven set of footsteps staggering towards him, he immediately swung open the door to see Todoroki, who was limping like an injured animal that escaped its demise by the skin of its teeth. An ugly purple bruise ate at the lower right of Todoroki's mandible, his body shook, and his slumped shoulders hiccupped with his swift breaths.

"Oi…what happened?" Bakugou asked, attempting to keep his breaths steady and his voice low.

Todoroki's eyes remained on neither the floor nor Bakugou as he limped into the apartment without a word. Using his elbow to push the door back into place, Todoroki pressed his shoulder blades against it. Moments later, his knees sank, and although Bakugou reached out to break Todoroki's fall, the former crumpled to the floor of his own volition.

"Shouto, what happened?" Bakugou asked again as a molten whip cracked through his psyche from witnessing as Todoroki curled into a ball with his fingers impaling his hair like bent needles. "Shouto?" Like an ember, his voice was gradually extinguished into lightless smoke.

Todoroki did not move or respond, and instead, he simply existed as the thin figurine of flesh and blood that he was.

Lowering himself onto his knees, Bakugou took a deep breath in and collected his flurry of thoughts. "You're safe here, 'kay?" he reassured Todoroki in a hushed sigh. "Just us. It's all right." He waited for any sign of a response, but Todoroki was as animated as a rock. "Where did he hurt you?"

Silence.

"Shouto, I know he hurt you."

No reaction.

"Are you not able to respond?"

Nothing.

What the hell am I supposed to do, then?! Bakugou wanted to scream as he ran his hand through his hair and grit his teeth. I'm angry, I'm annoyed, I'm worried, I'm anxious, I'm even paranoid. Just speak. Say something. Say anything! Shouto, for fuck's sake, I don't know what to do! I'm stressing out even more because you won't fucking… Calm down. Calm down.

Bakugou swallowed thickly and glanced around the room. "You were speaking to me less than an hour ago… Shouto…" He cautiously placed his quaking hand on Todoroki's shoulder, and much to Bakugou's stupefaction, he was awarded the sight of Todoroki's wide, pin-pricked eyes. "Oi… Listen, I just want you—"

I just want you to be comfortable, and I can't do that if I don't know anything.

Bakugou's words were interpolated by Todoroki, whose countenance remained cold. "Do…anything you want…" Todoroki finally whispered while transfixing Bakugou's soul with his dead, coruscating stare.

Bakugou felt as though time had momentarily frozen as he croaked, "What?"

With a hoarse voice like ice scraping over a jagged rock, Todoroki replied, "Do anything you want to me, Bakugou. I don't care anymore…"