In My Memories | Suicidal Villain Todoroki x Depressed Bakugou

12 | Shatter My Heart

Katsuki Bakugou

Shit. SHIT! "Why the fuck wouldn't you tell me?" I snap, stepping back from Todoroki to examine him vigorously. "Shouto, goddammit! Why the hell would you—"

A malignant scowl takes up a position on his irked mien as a stinging jolt of pain slaps across my cheek. Did he just... "Katsuki, I have been immensely lenient with you," he huffs under his breath, "but you burned the last straw. Why...did you believe it was appropriate to invade my personal territory like this?"

The rising warmth of my cheek tingles from where Todoroki brazenly slapped me. It's almost as if I can feel his hand being pressed up against my skin.

Katsuki, what have you done? Use your damn head! "Just answer the goddamn question," I retaliate harshly. "Why am I asking it? Why do I care? For the hundredth time, I love you! I'll burn myself in hell and come back alive for you. Don't you think for a damn second that I'm tantalizing you with the promise of love, because I'd never tell anyone I love them if I don't. You think I'd waltz my merry way up to Deku and consistently reiterate that I love him? No! Because I don't love him! Shouto, I love you. So tell me why." Tears begin to prick the corners of my eyes tipped down towards my nose.

Todoroki shakes his head and traces his hands along his opposite arms while shoving past me and walking towards his half of the room. Damn, I wanna rub that back of his right now—despite the fact that he was audacious enough to strike my cheek. "I would prefer you not concern yourself over me," he continues. "Now please, leave me be."

Oh, hell no! No. Shut the hell up, Shouto. While my legs begin to march towards Todoroki as he unrolls a white towel like a rug and wraps it around his upper half, I growl, "You think I'm just gonna let this slide? You think cutting yourself is fine? You think destroying your body is gonna give you the right highs? Hell are you wrong!" My watering eyes blend the world around me into a blur until two trails of tears are released from my eyes again. "I hurt you, didn't I? So tell me how... Tell me what I can do for you, and I'll do it! Tch. It's not everyday you hear me promising someone a favor!"

Upon closing in the gap between us until I've come within six feet of Todoroki, a small nest of keen, frozen stalagmites erupts from the floor, issued by the prince of ice himself. These crystals of ice ensnare my feet in a pale blue prison.

"Please don't touch me," he whimpers in a burly growl. "I apologize if I am asking too much, but..." He never finishes his sentence, and instead tugs a fresh, sky-blue shirt over his head and pops his hands through the long sleeves.

I wiggle my feet in the clutches of the ice. "How the hell was I supposed to know that this is what you were doing?" Katsuki, if you don't shut your damn mouth, you're going to regret it! "Is it wrong that I'm worried about you? Is it wrong that I'm tryin' to help you? But since you told me not to touch you, I won't—because I respect your goddamn ideals. You hear me?"

Todoroki nods. "I understand, and... I must apologize for causing unnecessary violence earlier." Don't change the topic on me! "Nonetheless, I've fulfilled my duty and attended the party, so I will not be returning."

"Tch. I'll let you have the next hour to yourself, but I'm coming back after that. Can I—" I bite down on my lower lip as I contemplate finishing my sentence— "h-hug you one last time?" I'm acting like we're breaking up or something. And did I seriously stutter again? The hell... "Yeah, I'm aware you don't want me to touch you, so that's why I'm askin' for your permission first." I finally snap my feet free of Todoroki's ice, causing sleek blue fragments to fly up and hit the floor with faint clink and click sounds.

He turns his head around to face me. "I suppose," he murmurs, the antithetical truth eminently clear through the windows of his eyes. "Thank you for asking."

God... Shatter my heart like it's a vase falling off of a table. Isn't it only fair, though? It'd be bullshit to say it ain't. I broke you—not just your heart—beyond repair. It's my fault that you think you should do this to yourself. Again, if only I'd known! If only I'd seen! If only I hadn't said that I hated you, because it's not true. I never meant to hurt you, but you know what I did? I hunted you down like a rabid dog. I sank my teeth into you like a ravenous beast. I lapped up your blood as if I'd been deprived of water for days.

Cautiously extending my arms to him, I grab the towel he's holding and swiftly rub it along my arms to prevent the negation of Todoroki throwing on another shirt in the first place. Now satisfied, I set the towel on the low, beige table beside his futon and slowly snake my arms around his chest without pressing myself against him. He sighs, his degraded eyes drifting to the floor.

"I don't want to let you go," I whisper into his ear. I wanna make you mine. I swear to you that I'm not gonna break your heart again, and if I do...then don't hesitate to shatter my heart. Cut me into a million pieces, if you want. But I will work my ass off to guarantee your happiness—not jeopardize it like I was doin' before. "I love you, Shouto. Tch. If you ever feel like slapping me again, knock yourself out."

Todoroki leans back to glimpse into my eyes. "I see you that you are emphatic about strongly disliking the fact that I hit you." Goddammit, what am I gonna do with you?

I roll my eyes and bite my tongue, sliding my hands off of Todoroki. "I didn't mean literally go and knock yourself out. Look, I meant that you can use me as a punching bag, and I will harbor no hatred towards you. I'll do whatever it takes to thaw that heart of yours that I broke—to cauterize the wounds. I'm willing to change myself, but you've also gotta be willing to concede." As I nod, a slender smile breaks through my lips. "Even if you don't wanna open your heart again, I'm gonna blow up your walls whether you like it or not."

In my memories, it almost felt as if everything I touched had been revoked of its color. Even the most fervently jovial and constantly uplifting person I knew was infected by my achromatic disease. Even the purest, whitest, most angelic of hearts had been breached and contaminated, deteriorating and perpetually corrupting its pitiable host.

"I never want to see your face again," you'd hissed, turning your nose up and louring. "Thinking about you makes me feel sick."

It was as if my existence had mutated into a lethal contagion. But is it not true that slight exposure grants future resistance? Is it not true that we are capable of adapting and creating methods to counter anything which negatively impacts us?

Imagine how undeniably different the world would be if we weren't so heavily reliant on the multiplicity of methods we have for eradicating disease.

"Ah. I should feel eminently repulsed by the fact that you have crawled up to my feet, and yet I cannot help but bear a crooked grin. I understand why that torture gave you a high. Wasn't it almost...addicting?"