So, sometimes I feel like life just wants me to suffer. Sunday my grandmother (who I live with) had a heart attack and is now in Hospice. I'm hoping she still has another year or so, but I think we can all agree there are no guarantees in life.
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~Bakugo's POV~
It took about a week for Todoroki to back off enough to leave Izuku and me alone with one another for more than half an hour, but he finally had to leave for the day over some problem with his work that couldn't be solved remotely.
Douchebag made sure to remind me that I better not try anything, but that just proves how little he knows about me. All I've cared about since Deku was kidnapped was getting him back, healthy and happy and I'm no moron. He's not nearly stable enough to be removed from this potential murder house without suffering a breakdown.
The old woman has been doing her best to heal his body though and I'll give credit where it's due; compared to the pictures of Deku when he first arrived here, I wouldn't have thought he'd survive let alone appear as healthy as he does—but honestly, he still doesn't look great.
Even now as I wait for him to wake up, he looks so damn fragile. From what I saw, he was rail-thin when Todoroki brought him here, but the little punk was always scraggly, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Chiyo's struggling to help him put weight back on.
More than anything though, he needs some sun. Deku used to be covered in freckles, never tanning like I did no matter how long we stayed outside. Now I can't find a single dot on his near sickly pale, scar-covered skin.
Too soon to push him to go outdoors though; it's still cold as fuck which wouldn't be good for his already struggling body and just getting him to leave his bedroom to cook breakfast had been nearly impossible. Maybe if it snowed or something he'd be tempted enough to overcome his trauma of leaving his designated room.
"Mmm, Kacchan?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes as he finally wakes up. With a nod from me, he smiles and yawns, stretching in that same awkward way he did when we were kids. I found it weird as hell Chiyo wanted me to sit in his bedroom basically staring at him while he slept, but apparently, Todoroki does creepy shit like that a lot and Deku really likes it.
"Sleep well, Deku?" I ask, taking note of the fatigue still clinging to his movements. "You know you can just go back to bed if you're tired."
In spite of everything he's been through, the smile Deku gives me is just as full and genuine as it always was. "No way, Kacchan! Shoto told me last night he'd have to be gone most of today so that means you and I get to play!"
Get to play… Deku was always naïve and innocent, but it's clear his mind wasn't given any chance to mature past childhood. It's a lot to take in, knowing he probably had to stay regressed just to make it through shit even grown adults break from. Does he even understand what they did to him?
"Ah? What're you in the mood for then? The old bag said you have to eat but after that, you get to choose the games." I answer only to feel another thick ball form in my throat from the way his face contorts in fear and pain, his breathing immediately ragged with panic.
He closes his eyes and wraps his arms around himself, frowning with intense focus while he mumbles out his name, age, and where he is now… How he wasn't going to be hurt ever again because 'Shoto and Kacchan promised'.
It's all I can do to keep up the appearance of being calm at the sight of him repeating the information over and over. I don't know what set this off, but I know from experience that he's suffering from a PTSD attack, reliving the trauma he'd endured as if it was still ongoing. This was how he must have kept what sanity he had left… He'd continuously remind himself of what he knew to be true until his mind returned to him.
A small, hesitant, yet genuine smile eventually reforms on his still trembling lips and those big green eyes open to look at me again. "S-sorry, Kacchan… I got scared. Shoto got me some board games or we could watch TV?" he offers, though there's a shudder in his voice. It's barely noticeable, but I know I hear it and need to figure out what I said that caused it.
I maneuver the tray of food I'd already made for him to his bedside, deciding that despite my impatience, it's better to give him time to fully calm down before pushing a topic that clearly upsets him. "You better eat every bite of this, nerd."
"Where's your food, Kacchan?" he questions when he finally manages to get his weak body coordinated enough to get out of the covers and dangle his legs over the edge of the bed.
"Heh, I ate a while ago while you were snoring, Deku," I respond with a laugh, pleased to see his nose crinkle in fake anger; he's relaxing again. That's good.
It's eerie how he still somewhat bounces when he's eating something he likes, probably humming some little tune in his head from one of the shows we watched all those years ago. But I can't let my own unease show; I've got to be the same unyielding rock I was back then.
"Deku," I call, doing my best to sound non-threatening even though I'm pretty sure it's an innate part of my voice. "When we were talking about what we were going to play today… What happened?"
He swallows thickly, the food barely going down from what looks like the urge to vomit fighting against the action. "…K-Kacchan wouldn't make me play bad games just like Shoto doesn't. B-But…"
Deku doesn't explain further, but there's no need. I know exactly what the fuck sent him spiraling; the bastards hurting him called the sick shit they did 'games' and just saying the word is enough to set off flashbacks.
"You're right, Deku. I'd never do that and now that I'm here, no one will ever, ever, fucking make you play those types of games again. You only play fun games now like we did as little brats, you got it?" I respond, feeling the urge to find where Todoroki disposed of Shigaraki's corpse chunks just so that I can beat them with a bat.
Though tears are already wetting his cheeks, he smiles and nods, wiping the wetness on his pajama sleeves. "That's what Shoto says too… I… I didn't like those games; they hurt. But Shoto promised I won't ever hurt again and now that you're here, I know it has to be true. You always protected me."
'Hurt' was probably the biggest fucking understatement of the century from the scars he has. I never got injured in the military but once I went to the private sector, that shit changed really quickly. Crazy bastards were always after my clients, and I've got my own scars from those fights—they fucking hurt and aren't nearly as bad as the ones Deku has. Not to mention the fact that I had access to medical care.
"Yeah, I always protected you, but don't think that means I'll go easy on you with those board games, Deku," I state, determined now more than ever to be what he needs. "You know I like to win."
A determined smirk attempts to form on his too-full cheeks, proving he's up to the 'challenge'. Most of his behavior reminds me of when we were kids, which just proves how severely damaged his psyche is, but clearly not even a decade and a half of torture could break him completely. He'll heal from this… He has to.
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~Todoroki's POV~
I'm fuming by the time I manage to get back home, having been forced to stay at my corporate office even later than I'd anticipated. All I want to do now is go and sit with Izuku while he sleeps, watching his angelic face in the moonlight.
But Bakugo doesn't get up to leave when I walk through the doorway. He stays exactly where he is—in my chair by Izuku's bed. I hardly manage to control the urge to attack him, especially since he's just staring at me, his expression one of suspicion; he still thinks I would do something to hurt Izuku.
"Out." I mouth dangerously, not wanting to disturb my ward if I don't have to. Bakugo narrows his eyes further and gives me a final once over before obeying, silently getting up and exiting the room. It's doubtful that he'll actually leave the premises though.
My estate is decently far from the city and it's very late. Combined with his distrust of my intentions, I imagine he'll go to his assigned room and spend the night, checking in on Izuku every so often just to see if he can catch me doing something unsavory to his friend.
'Fool. I'm a serial killer, not a sexual predator.'
As the confirmation of what kind of evil I am echoes in my thoughts, however, I'm reminded of how being near Izuku makes me feel; the sensation I had during our first and only kiss. I'd be lying if I said I didn't fantasize about those adoring eyes peering up at me as he sucks my cock… that I'd never been woken by dreams of him on all fours, face pressed to the floor while he begs me to fuck him harder.
The many images my mind has concocted over the last few months seem to be getting more vivid; the pulsing need I feel more insistent. But I am not a sexual predator. All of my fantasies revolve around Izuku wanting me as badly as I want him. No amount of unfulfilled physical desires would make me do something as repulsive as what he's been subjected to for most of his life. I won't make him play any more 'games'. Ever.
But Bakugo refuses to accept that. I've seen the way he observes Izuku and I's interactions and watched his mind form conclusions about the nature of my feelings. He's already figured out that I do, in fact, feel extreme sexual attraction for his friend. And he truly believes at some point I'll act on those urges, regardless of consent.
'No. I refuse to become my father.'
Reaching out, I drag my fingers down Izuku's soft, warm cheek before gently kissing his forehead, loving how he seems to smile from the affection even when he's sleeping. Though all I want to do is stay and watch him longer, I know I need to get some sleep. Endeavor Corp. requires a great deal of attention and I'm still investigating all of Shigaraki's friends, determined to track down all the people who hurt Izuku while he was being held as a prisoner. Not a single one will escape my table.
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Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you feel like it! I'd love to hear feedback on the chapter/story and what you think will happen next!