Make it stop!

Chapter 38

Specific trigger warning for vomiting in this chapter.

Bakugo playfully pushed Denki off as he left, standing in the lift with a smile. He entered the dorm, greeted sensei and then closed to door to his room.

It only takes a few seconds to know it.

A fuzziness that massaged his brain's wrinkles. Jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut like a dam that held water behind. He sniffed in and out through his nose. To call it selfishness or a lack of gratitude, oh, if only he could. At least then, it could be fixed. Glaring at the state he was in, the mirror reflected his eyes... usual red irises that darkened to charcoal. Grains of charcoal to show his soul, wasted and dead. Around him, the world moved. Talking from the TV outside his room, chopping of what will be included in the well-ordered meals that Aizawa cooks, birds choking outside. Bakugo's minimal progress broke into pieces, carved into shapes with a knife but the world moved just fine.

I'm not needed.

There was evidence that argued otherwise, the friendly interactions and memories that blossomed in his brain. But they were kind people, if anyone else was in his place then it would be the same story. No one needed Bakugo alive. Was it that cold? He trembled and shook. The reason he lived was for his own success, to become someone worthy. Other people weren't relevant, only stepping stones to his goal. He never lived for people nor did they need him, that was how he was brought up. His mother... There's no way he will succeed, too much has happened. He can't even stay in his own fucking dorm. It was obvious how weak he was, as if the best of the best would cry over nothing. The goal isn't realistic anymore, so what was his point of existing?

No one needed him and he didn't need himself either. The energy drink didn't even help, the tear inside his heart stayed open. He had many questions to yell out, most of them beginning with 'why'. Even if progress is made, some things can't be taken back and it made Bakugo queasy. Legs wobbled as he trudged to the velvety-red bathroom, spewing out his last meal. It must have been loud for his sensei not to hear any of it.

Bakugo, I miss you. What happened?

"Fuck off, fuck off. Stop it." Bakugo needed to run somewhere, anywhere. He needed to move, the roof was coming down.

As he looked like absolute shit, walking past Aizawa wasn't an option. The windows couldn't be opened enough for Bakugo to fit through. Escaping wasn't available. Regardless, he needed to calm himself and cutting wouldn't leave his mind. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Blood pouring down his arms and hitting the clean sink. The blood was dark too. He might have cut too far again. The possibility made his breathe hitch, ironically. To reach the afterlife horrified him. The unknown, he couldn't give up. The severity of the moment brought his thinking back and he walked to the living room with an attempt to get help.

"Sensei..." Bakugo shrieked.

Aizawa dropped his spatula and ran over to Bakugo, his student had vomit across his shirt and the arms was sickening. That is too much blood.

"What happened?! Shit, Katsuki."

"Please don't take me to a hospital, my parents..."

Aizawa gripped his own hair and breathed deeply. It was hard to keep any air in. Forcing his legs to move, Aizawa pushed Bakugo down by the shoulders to sit on the couch as he went to get a first aid kit. Recovery Girl wasn't in after school so he could only be healed tomorrow. Until then, Aizawa had to keep the boy functioning.

The cream couch had poka dots of dark red, natural to the blonde. Eyes were wide open but ever so unfocused, was he there physically or mentally? How about neither? His arms felt so slimy and overall, he felt disgusting. But unable to move.