in conclusion | katsuki bakugo

一 | semicolon

"WE'RE GETTING YOU SOME HELP," His fingers were wrapped gently around your own as he traipsed forward. You merely followed after him, seemingly lifeless as your eyes were dulled over, attention honed in on the sidewalk. Even when you spoke, it was monotone and uninterested.

You wanted to go home and die.

That was it.

That was the only thing that piqued your interest and Bakugo knew that.

Katsuki's grip grew a little firmer and you were forced to hasten your pace just a little bit more, your eyes finally flitting upwards to look ahead. "Will therapy even work?" Your lips parted and you finally spoke. His own gaze diverted to you briefly before he mumbled under his breath, seemingly unsure himself.

"Kirishima told me about this therapist; he said he goes to it when he has a lot of anxiety. We'll book one shitty appointment if he turns out to be good." He seemed to be a bit more sensitive of his language; his attention fully focused on you. It made you sick with the way he pitifully looked at you. 

At least, that's how you perceived it. Unbeknownst to you, Bakugo just loved you too much to let anything else affect you. To him, you were like glass, and he was adamant on preventing you from shattering. You pursed your lips and nodded, finally caving into what he had planned as you followed after him.

The first thing you noticed about the building was that it was tall. It was tall and seemed newly built, the windows were clear enough for you to peek inside and stare at all employees. "His office is on the fourth floor," Bakugo muttered to you. Even though you showed no interest, he would tell you what he was doing anyway.

It was the only thing that kept him from thinking about what he saw.

The warmth of your blood and hearing you cry out in pain replayed in his mind so many times that it disturbed him more than when he experienced it. However, he had to be strong. Just for you, he had to be. "I don't like this place," You mumbled quietly, hating the smell of strong hand sanitizer and sharp cleaning products.

Bakugo seemed concerned for a moment as if unsure something like this would give you another reason to kill yourself. "Just one appointment," He said softly, his calloused hand pulling away from yours briefly to tilt your head up. Your eyes met his and you hated yourself because he seemed so insincere.

Still, though, you couldn't bring yourself to care. You hated that you couldn't consider his concern over you because you weren't even worried for yourself. He was worrying for both of you and it made you sick. "It's not going to change anything," You said pessimistically. His grip on your hand returned and he led you like a mother led a child.

"You don't know that,"

You didn't have a verbal response to that and you merely shrugged, letting the eerie silence encompass the both of you. You two finally arrived at the office and everything was a blur, an assistant had let you inside and you heard Bakugo state the appointment time and his name. The next thing you knew, both of you were sat on a couch together.

"Miss L/n, are you comfortable with Mr. Bakugo staying with you,"

You blinked lazily, processing what he said slowly. Bakugo seemed worried for a second. Was he overstepping his boundaries to stay with you? Instead, he was thoroughly surprised when you nodded, squeezing his hand ever so gently in reassurance. "Let's start with talking about what you're here for—"

"—I want to kill myself."

You could feel Bakugo tense beside you at your statement; it was your voice saying words he never imagined you'd say. "Why is that?" It was the basic question you had asked yourself. Why do I want to kill myself? There were so many reasons, but the main one was that you were tired. You were so incredibly tired of living on this earth.

You were tired of dealing with friends you couldn't consider your friends and putting up with activities you no longer found joy in. You were tired of coming home, eating a stale meal, and then repeating the same day all over again. To you, life was no longer worth living. All that left your mouth was, "I'm tired."

You could feel the therapist stare at you briefly before continuing. "What makes you feel tired?" He was validating your feelings, he was telling you that you weren't crazy. You already knew that; you weren't crazy, you just wanted to end it all. You were so lost in your own head that nothing made sense anymore.

More like reality confused you so much that your own head wasn't any better of a shelter. "Everything," You mumbled. It was hard to admit that, not to yourself, but in front of Bakugo. However, you'd rather sit beside him than deal with this atrocity alone. There were a few more questions and more half-assed answers from you and then the appointment ended.

The hour was up and Bakugo and the therapist were discussing payments and more appointments; mainly because the doctor across from you had managed to get more words out of you than Bakugo had been able to this entire week. When you two had finally gotten out, you had gotten used to the smell of hand sanitizer and Windex, your attention focused elsewhere.

Bakugo held papers in his hands, pausing suddenly as you turned to look back at him, watching him read carefully. He chewed on his bottom lip contemplatively before his red eyes flitted up to you and he reached for your hand. You gently grabbed it, feeling him caress your knuckles with his thumb.

He only diverted his attention when you spoke up. He was almost done with reading the second page when you mumbled under your breath, looking away from him. "Katsuki," Bakugo looked at you quickly, interested in what you had to say. However, your words made his heart drop. "Do you think I'll make it to the next appointment?"