Silhouette | Suicidal Todoroki x Bakugou

10 | Distraction

Shouto Todoroki

Scrunching his eyes closed, Todoroki sliced open his skin. He felt the familiar, mind-numbing rush of adrenaline that swallowed up his body. Yet, staring at the thin slit in his leg that was gradually wreathed with glistening, unevenly sized orbs of crimson, Todoroki bit his lower lip. Clasping fast the blade in his hand, he impetuously slashed into his skin again, and again, and once more.

With his heart bashing into his ribs, Todoroki stood up to his feet on quaking legs. He washed off the scarlet-tipped blade and slid it back into its plastic sheath. Then, feeling a warm, squiggly movement on his leg, he glanced down at the four self-inflicted lacerations he'd added to his flesh; his wounds wept with lush, endless tears.

A thick smog of panic suffocated Todoroki's senses. It's on the floor. Shit, they're bleeding a lot. Stepping into the shower, Todoroki turned on the cool water and winced as the clear, thin jets cut into his wounds. It hurts. Get over it. Why did I make four cuts? I deserve them... Yet, this just proves I didn't learn a damn thing. I don't know what to think. I don't know.

After drying and wrapping up his cuts, Todoroki sighed at the familiar, residual sting that burned across his leg each time he moved it. No one knows I used to cut. I didn't even tell Momo. My own wife... No matter what I do, it all ends up being selfish. Why? He sponged up the blood on the floor and lumbered out of the bathroom, lifting himself into bed. I'd rather die than have anyone know. Especially when it's something I was stupid enough to get back into after all these years. When did I start? It's blurry now. One of the moments I thought I'd never forget, and yet... I think I was thirteen or fourteen. If only I never had in the first place.

"It'll be okay, Shouto," a soft, rose-like voice assured him. "I'm right here..."

Turning his head, Todoroki saw the silhouette of something where his wife once slept. With a newfound geyser of adrenaline coursing through him, Todoroki reached out to the protrusion in the blankets. Lifting back the fold of white, he saw a familiar fan of black hair.

Yet, the moment Todoroki blinked, the vivid, pictorial image of his wife dissolved into his memories.

Momo... I want you back... I want you back, Momo. I fucking want you back... Curling himself around the blanket his mind had shaped to be his wife, Todoroki slammed his eyes shut and grit his teeth; his silent lamentation hissed through his lips.

Roughly an hour later, Todoroki sank into the depths of sleep. Much like his sleep, he simultaneously felt as though time passed incredibly slowly yet so swiftly as one day turned into three, and soon enough, ten days. He'd changed his plans to go bowling with Bakugou to be on that day, but talking to Bakugou had become a daily occurrence. At the same time, Todoroki's cutting habit had also evolved into a nightly ritual.

I'm so tired of everything, Todoroki muttered to himself after serving Mai a plate of onigiri as an after-school snack. Stop thinking like that. You have no right to be tired. Just get it done. You love Mai, right? Then get your act together. It doesn't matter what you feel. Mai comes first. Stop being selfish. He patted Mai's shoulder and gripped the kitchen counter as an arrow of lightheadedness struck through his temples. Even Fuyumi is worried about me. Bakugou will definitely comment on it. It's humiliating that this is what I am now.

"So, what's bowing (bowling)?" Mai asked after nibbling at the corner of her ball of rice.

I wish I could help her pronounce it, Todoroki sighed to himself. I just can't get myself to say anything. I try, but my body refuses. Even the thought terrifies me sometimes. Terrified...of using my voice... How fucking pathetic am I? She's not going to hurt me like Endeavor did.