Smile | Suicidal Todoroki x Kaminari

6 | Get Up

This story is not intended to promote or encourage actions/behaviors such as suicide, self-harm, abuse, violence, purging, or eating disorders.

Shoto Todoroki
•⊱—≬—⊰•

Todoroki closed his eyes and relaxed his eyelids, but as minutes merged into hours, he was still unable to sink into a sandy sea of slumber. He shifted from one position to another and oscillated between allowing his cascading streams of simple and intricate thoughts to filter through his head, and mantling his sizzling thoughts with a thick blanket of ashen silence. Despite his exhaustion and restlessness, his alarm aggravated his consciousness as he reflexively shut off his phone and blinked open his eyelids that were leaden with weariness.

ʙᴀɴɢ

I don't want to get up, Todoroki begrudgingly thought. I don't want to think about anything, but all I can do is think. One more day. Get up. It feels like my body itself is fading. Like...it's sinking into my futon and gradually deteriorating. It doesn't matter. Just get up... Todoroki's body did not obey. I can't fucking get up. My body won't move. Even if I think about the things that 'make life worth living,' that alone won't move the boulder crushing my body and tethering it here. No matter how many times I fake this smile, they only hurt—what's fake will never be genuine, unless it's genuinely fake. If someone were to move me out of bed, I might be grateful for the effort, but it wouldn't restore my functionality. Stop thinking and start moving, Shoto. But...I just don't have the energy or motivation. I'm going to be late for class. Get up. Get up... But I don't want to get up. I'm absolutely useless. Legitimately...useless. When have I not been?

While Todoroki silently commanded himself to move and get out of bed, tears began to slither down his cheeks and seep into the pillow his face was pressed against. He was tired—utterly exhausted—and it felt as though the exhaustion that was augmented with each day, each lie, and each smile was insidiously tearing his soul from his body. He felt a certain numbness that rippled across his flesh, but it was as though that numbness was what laced the soul spilling from his inert body. He felt like a ghost observing his own life through a thick pair of glasses; it felt like someone else was living his life, but he was still the one to feel every impact of the decisions of his scornful puppeteer.

Shoto, he internally supplicated, you'll feel better if you get up. You'll feel a little better. Take it. Get up. Aren't you tired of being tired and useless? Move. You will accomplish nothing...if all you do is lie here and remain useless. Get up one more time. One more... Then you'll be happy. It'll be fine. You know it will. Please move. Do something. Something... Anything, Shoto. For today, be useful. Be someone useful, Shoto. I know this isn't the answer, but I'm so tired that I just don't care.

"You bet I care. So, I want ya to be kind to yourself, too."

This is the kindest I've been to myself in a long time... Todoroki realized while attempting to blink back his tears. Even so, it's not enough. That's how useless I am. That's why I don't deserve to be happy. Even if I want to be happy, I know I don't deserve it. Why would I ever deserve that? After all the things I've done to myself, the lies I've told to others, and how I'm able to betray them all with one metaphorical lie... If you gave me happiness now, I'd only cry. I'd sob, despite supposedly being happy. I'd throw it away and wish for someone else to be happy instead. Why did I ever think I should—not could—be happy again? Regardless of how many people say I deserve to be happy, I won't change my mind. I don't—

A buzz from his phone jumbled his watery thoughts, but he didn't bother to look at his phone again. Soon enough, Todoroki received a phone call, but he simply allowed the phone to ring and vibrate at the tips of his fingers. Again, the phone rang, but all Todoroki could do was stare at the trembling device.

Like his shell of a body crawled about the snarled threads of reality and wove between the rivulets of rips in the fabric itself, he drifted while the world continued on. His senses almost felt distant—a substantial barrier of a crystalline liquid stared down at him as he stared up at its rippling surface, and as his fingers inched towards that demarcating sky of waves, his senses were heightened, but more often than not, he lacked the energy to reach up towards the swirling surface. Upon grasping the tangible yet intangible water he stared at always, his body was whisked into the current, and all his senses became acutely apparent, but the world continued outside the propinquity of his grasp—within the peripheries of that oceanic barrier. He watched as time flooded by as he reached, swam, drifted, fell, rested, and reached again for the world dancing above and around his head, yet he oftentimes wondered why he endeavored to reach his hand aloft at all.

Is he going to think something happened to me? Todoroki found himself pondering. He's helped me quite a bit, and I can imagine he's the one calling me. Tomorrow... Give them something to smile at today. I'm going to leave them tomorrow. It's cruel enough that I'm burdening them with this. Maybe I'm a terrible person for thinking Kaminari is attractive both in character and personality, and in looks when I recently left Yaoyorozu because of my plans, but I guess I still wasn't in a relationship with her when I started to think about him like that. If I feel this way about him, and if the love I had for her still lingers, why am I doing this to them? I should know...how much it fucking hurts to lose someone you love and hold close. Not that they love me, but I know they care more than the rest. I was miserable... Without Yaoyorozu, I... She was devastated—I wasn't the only one in pain. It killed me to see the look in her eyes... Kaminari is always smiling. I wonder if that smile will still be there for me to see when I'm gone. I don't know, but I hate myself for hurting them all.

The student with two halves of evenly split hair exhaled slowly as his fingers unfurled. With languished movements piercing through his torpefied shell of iron, he grimaced as he forced himself to shuffle out of bed. He gritted his teeth, and much to his stupefaction, he slowly drew himself up from his futon. The moment he managed to sit upright, he felt no sense of accomplishment—he simply wanted to collapse back down, fall asleep, and never awaken from his repose.

⊹⊱—≬—⊰⊹
"𝖬𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝖺𝗆 𝖨."
𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦.
"𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙘𝙧𝙮 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙄 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙, 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙘𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙪𝙘𝙝 𝙄 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙚."