Silhouette | Suicidal Todoroki x Bakugou

21 | Bleeding Wrist

This story is not intended to promote or encourage actions such as self-harm or suicide.

Shouto Todoroki

Todoroki lowered the blade to his wrist. Nothing would matter anymore if I didn't exist to be a part of the consequences. But... His hand began to shake. I don't want to burden Mai with knowing both of her parents died when she was six. I don't want her to think she didn't mean enough to me, or that I didn't love her enough to keep going for her. I don't want her to live the rest of her life knowing her father committed suicide. I don't want to do that to her... But I wouldn't have to face that guilt if I didn't exist. I... Fuck it... Clenching his jaw and clenching the knife in his hand, Todoroki steeled himself to sever both his wrist and the thread linking him to his life.

"Shouto."

Shhk!

"Please keep going..."

Shk! Shk! Shk!

With a clink and a clatter, the blade in Todoroki's frigid, quaking hand slipped to the floor. Specks of blood the size of a needle tip splattered across the white tiles by his feet.

Undulating footsteps of adrenaline and a frothing mix of emotions Todoroki could not comprehend trampled his eyes. His heart was a caged beast with sights set only on freedom. His limbs had gone numb, but a hot, tart substance smeared itself over the back of his tongue like a conglomerate of burning rubber and hot glue.

Gazing down at his bleeding wrist, Todoroki attempted to steady his focus on the thin lines of crimson bubbling into jagged streams along his flesh. Cold panic shot through his body as the warm streams of blood on his wrist began to overflow into the sink. White porcelain was bathed in a dark hue of scarlet, but somewhere from the depths of Todoroki's being, he was acutely aware that he'd hesitated:

He had not sliced as deep into his wrist as his initial movements would have dictated.

A red and purple inferno of emotion gouged through Todoroki's chest. He didn't know what to do, and with each second he took to frantically ponder his options, more and more of his blood continued to snake down the drain.

They're deep, but they're not deep enough... Todoroki muttered to himself. This is exactly what I didn't want. Shit... I just want to die...but I can't even do that. I don't even know what to do. It would take too long to bleed out, and the adrenaline rush is gone, but I can't help but want to see if I'll just die. He flicked on the tap and winced at the water being flushed into his open wounds. Fuck, it hurts. I'll never be able to wear short sleeves. Fuck... Why did it have to end up like this?

You know she wouldn't want this. She wouldn't want you to put your daughter through it either. You're still disrespecting her and her wishes?

While compressing and bandaging his cuts, Todoroki thought, They're throbbing and burning. I can feel my pulse reverberating through the cuts. It's hurting more and more. I'll need long-sleeved clothes like this turtleneck to cover the wounds. This is why I always avoided my wrists...

Once Todoroki wrapped his wrist into a firm hold that wasn't tight enough to threaten his circulation, he rinsed out the sink with soap and water, scrubbed away the droplets of blood on the floor, and then disinfected his blade. Sighing while his heart bumped up to his skin from within his lacerations, he stumbled out of the bathroom and into the dining room.

So groggy, Todoroki thought as the rich, crisp aroma of seared butter met his nose. I'm glad it's Sunday, but I still need to get back to going to work. My shifts are already shorter than normal so I can take care of Mai. They said it's fine, but I feel guilty. It's even a paid leave, for the time being. Then, seeing Bakugou's muscular yet slender figure, he felt a familiar spring of warmth in his chest. Without him here, it feels so lonely. I want to be with him. I want...his love and affection. I want to give him love and affection. Just like how things were with Momo...