Mha fluff/angst oneshots

🥀 Bakugo 🥀

Trigger warning's in the story description!

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Bakugo pov:

My relationship with food was a shaky cycle from the start.

It was only something I needed to have; I didn't enjoy it, I didn't crave it, it was simply an energy source.

I thought it was fine, at first. But when my mom started making comment like, 'are you really going to eat all of that?' or 'if you keep eating like that, you wont stay skinny forever.', I started to despise it. I despised the fact that I needed to eat to survive.

That's when the calorie counting started. My obsession with the numbers on the labels plagued my mind with every meal, restricting my original diet by about half. I stopped allowing seasonings in my food, carbs were out of the question, and anything with high sugar levels made me want to rip my stomach out of my body.

Eating became a miserable chore, something I dreaded every time I needed to do it. The food would leave a rotten taste in my tongue and make my stomach churn with disgust.

Not disgust in what I was eating — while yes, the food wasn't the most pleasant — but disgust in myself for needing to eat.

The strict diet slowly shifted into smaller portions, my mother's nagging words in the back of my mind every time I looked in the mirror. Eating became revolting, the idea of it could simply make me gag. Three meals turned into two, then one, and slowly I was eating once every other day. It became disastrous in the blink of an eye, my stomach eating away at my fat and muscles in order to keep me functioning.

I became significantly weaker, and that made me hate myself even more. The hunger pains became addicting, became an achievement. I felt accomplished every time I wanted to curl in a ball and cry from the aching pain in my stomach as it begged for food, as it begged for mercy.

My mother was used to my diet, even told me she was happy I was losing the weight I gained from being a pig. Her positive reinforcement towards my terrible habits fueled a fire in me to get even skinnier, make the 120 pounds I weighed turn into 100.

And I did.

My classmates asked a lot of questions, which only aggravated me. How could they not see that this was good for me? How could they not see that I look better this way?

The more my rib cage stuck out, the prouder I became with myself. Despite all this, despite all my progress, I only dove further into the self-loathing. It was never enough, it would never be enough. And I knew that. But I never made an effort to stop, even after Aizawa sat with me and threatened to take me to a hospital if I didn't gain any weight.

Nobody really knew what was going on, not about my eating disorder at least. A lot of them assumed I was sick, and that's because that was my excuse. Some had their suspicions, but never really brough it up. Because every time they tried, I'd explode into a fit of fury, denying the possibility before it could even leave their mouths.

Everything was going so smoothly; I was skinny, reaching my mom's expectations of me, becoming the person I was meant to be.

Sure, I passed out more than I should have. And sure, I've pushed everyone out of my life in order to continue this retched process.

But I was skinny, so none of that even mattered anymore.

When my hair started falling out, I was getting a little nervous. I knew I was pushing it too far. My body was starting to shut itself down in order to keep itself functioning in some capacity. I started to grow scared of the pit I've thrown myself into. I knew I was going to crash land soon, and it scared me.

But I felt too deep to even try to pull myself out. I've been falling endlessly, this disorder ripping away any chances of surviving the moment I dropped below 90.

I couldn't move from my bed, too weak to even attempt at existing. I've starved myself to nothing but a lifeless skeleton, and I did nothing to stop myself before it got too late.

That was what I thought, anyway.

The last person I expected to check in on me was Shoto Todoroki. He didn't say anything as he entered my dorm, just simply sat on the edge of my bed as he looked at me with a pained expression.

"Do you regret it?" I remember him asking. I remember it so clearly, and I remember it being the words that broke down my walls so fast. I allowed myself to cry for the first time in years as I sputtered a weak 'yes'.

"Was it worth it?" He asked shortly after I finished my crying fit. "Was it everything you've ever wanted?"

His words were harsh, but I needed them. I knew he was trying to give me a freak reality check to get rid of the fantasy I've resided in for the past two years.

That day, I was admitted into a hospital.

I was given immediate medical treatment as they tried to restore the organs that had slowly started to wither away. They were shocked that I was still alive from the damage I brought upon myself. Todoroki and Aizawa stayed by my side the entire time, the day they put the feeding tube in being the time I needed them the most.

I don't think I've ever cried so hard as I did that day. The idea of gaining weight still felt repulsive, as if it was a slimy parasite that squirmed and slithered under my skin.

I knew I needed food to survive, I knew this was a terrible idea from the start. But I would have rather died trying than live in the body I despised so much.

Until Todoroki showed me old photos of myself. The fat pig I had constructed myself into in my reflection blinded me from the reality that I was skinny from the start. I never needed to go through any of this, and I was angry at myself for believing that I did. I was angry at myself for letting my self control slip from my fingers.

After I reached 115 pounds, and my health had progressed exponentially, I was admitted into a mental hospital.

There, they treated my eating disorder, rather than the aftermath destruction it caused.

It was miserable.

But I managed.

They slowly retrained my relationship with food, found the root of how this started in the first place and worked me through it. After four months, I was discharged and sent out into the real world. Eating was still hard, but I got better.

Todoroki stood by my side as he helped me gain my weight, and when that was stable, gain my muscle back. I slowly stopped obsessing with the numbers on the labels, with the numbers on the scales.

There were good days, and there were bad days. But Todoroki never failed to be there when I needed him the most, and for that, I will never hesitate to call him my best friend. It took years for me to fully be comfortable with the idea of eating, and he was there for every single day of the long and treacherous process.

I've gained my life back, finally feeling free from the confines I held myself in. I couldn't have been more grateful for the people in my life for throwing in the rope into the pit for me to grasp onto. They helped pull me out of the sinking abyss as I climbed, climbed to the surface. I could finally breathe after years of suffocating in the darkness.

For once in my life, I was free.

I hope you enjoyed this one. It kinda turned into a venting sort of chapter, but it turned out good, I think. Thank you for reading!

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