depressed Todoroki x Bakugou

chapter 8

Continuing from last chapter.

Third pov

"Your friend, he might not have long." The nurse looks at Katsuki sympathetically.

"What do you mean he doesn't have long!?" Katsuki growls through a clenched jaw, wincing at his voice crack.

"He cut himself deeply to write a message in his blood. He drained about a tenth from his body, leaving him in this recuporative state." The woman explains quietly.

"What the fuck did the message say?" Katsuki demands.

"'It was the #1'"

He couldn't believe it. How could a person do that to someone they created? How could someone do that to his Shoto?

Katsuki felt the burning of his light explosions in the palms of his hands as he let his emotions get the better of him. He heard the unsettling crackle as he strained his fingers in a curled position.

How could the number one hero do something like this?

Katsuki's mind raced alongside his breathing as he imagined the horrible possibilities.

The answer lay behind a door. One question would open it. Inevitably leading to thousands more.

An aganizing silence filled the room as he pondered wether he should ask this fate defying question.

"What the fuck happened, exactly?" He hesitates.

"He was struck several times in the head, back and stomach. He has five broken ribs and will most likely expieriance some sort of mental lag when or if he wakes. Wether it be temporary or permanent, there is no way to know."

Katsuki's rage flares at these words. He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white at the pressure. Smoke escaping from the openings in his hands.

His anger nagged at him, tempting him to some sort of retaliation. He tried his best to refuse but couldn't help this weight on his chest.

He felt an immense guilt. Had he not let Shoto leave, this wouldn't have happened.

Had he noticed the fear in Shoto's demeanor, he would have stopped him. He would have gone in his place if it meant saving him.

This guilt held him tightly, as if being crucified. He earnestly needed Shoto to wake.

As his thoughts ran at an astonishing rate, tears flowed out of the corners of his eyes. Uninvited as ever, each tear flow faster than the last.

He deeply wished he paid attention more. For it was only then he remembered the dullness in Shoto's eyes. The natural frown he wore. The saddness he bore.

He wished for miracle to save his kind Shoto. Knowing nothing would happen.

Katsuki couldn't handle the guilt burdening him as his thoughts added to the large pile.

He falls to his knees, hoping it would do something.

As a single tear falls to his lips, he wipes it away with his thumb.

"Is- is there any way I can help?" He asks, discarding his feeble appearance and hoarse voice.

"You'd be able to give him blood if your blood was compatible." The woman suggests, hesitantly placing a comforting hand on Katsuki's shoulder.

He shrugs her hand off, scowling at the woman.

"Hurry it the fuck up then." He growls, only to get the woman to leave.

The woman swiftly exits the room, re-entering only minutes later with a seringe.

She takes his blood and walks back out of the room.

As he's left in the room with an unconscious Shoto, he looks down at his expressionless face.

His rage resurfaces as he remembers the times that the "hero" Endeavor pretended to be a symbol. Pretended to be on the good side.

Pretended to be a halfway decent parent.

Nearly twenty minutes pass, as Katsuki's emotions tear at him, the nurse returns.

"We'll be able to transfer the blood, but we'll need more if it's going to do anything." The woman says gently.

Katsuki complyfuly sits on a chair and holds out his arm.

"I don't give a fuck how much you need. Just take it and give it to him. Hurry it the hell up." He demands.

The nurse leaves, coming back with a few needles, some tubes and a blood bag.

She drives the needle into his arm.

Barely flinching at the pain, Katsuki finds himself more concerned with exactly how much blood Shoto lost.

Knowing full well Shoto's hatred for his father, he wondered why. Why it had to be Shoto. Why Endeavor was mad.

Just, why?

He hadn't realized that the needle had already been removed.

He looked down at the bag of his blood. Redirecting his thoughts, the sickly feeling in his stomach for that horrible man was what was causing the scowl plastered on his face.

He feared the man would come to "visit" and do something horrible to Shoto in his unconscious state.

He imagined the horrible things done to Shoto. Scaring himself just at the thought of his Shoto being hurt like that.

That's why he's hurt the way he is.