Suicidal Todoroki x Midoriya | What it Means to Love

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Shoto Todoroki

Exiting the hospital, I decide to text Bakugou on my way to my dorm. Although today is the twenty-fifth of December, it is also the day of Izuku Midoriya's death, so I return to my dorm to at least gather some of my belongings before debating on whether or not to head home.

Me: Bakugou. What do I do? Izuku is dead. He died at the hospital this morning. But I feel only emptiness.

Bakugou: No joke? When the fuck did this happen? No one told me! When was this?! You know what, I'm calling you!

My phone vibrates in my hand before I accept the call from Bakugou. "I was ambushed by Dabi of the League of Villains on the way to the party last night. Kurogiri released Izuku during one of my attacks and...I-I killed him. He and I were taken to the hospital afterwards. When I woke up and asked about him, he was gone. I loved him. So why am I not disconcerted by the fact that I've lost him? What's wrong with me? Why do I not feel what I should be feeling?" Staring at my fingernails of my right hand as the reposeful snow flitters between my fingers and kisses my hand, I realize I'm shaking.

"Shit... God, I'm so sorry that happened. That's fucking horrible. Can't imagine how you feel if I feel like shit. Tch. The nerd...always did mean a lot to me." He pauses once his voice begins to crack. "Hey. It's normal to be stunned to the point of sorrow being nullified. Even if it's different from that, don't listen to society's 'norms.' Nothing is wrong with you in that regard, dammit. Now, where the hell are you? What are you doing? Have you eaten today?" His brusque, implied injunctions subconsciously cause me to widen my gait.

I understand you're more than likely concerned and acting in correlation to that, but I simply do not have the patience for this right now.

With a vexed sigh, I murmur, "Heading back to my dorm. I'm talking to you. No, and I don't plan to; you have seen the consequences, have you not?"

Bakugou scoffs, "I'm coming over there right now. Please, for the love of God, Todoroki, don't bullshit me. Deku told me you were progressing well and starting to eat more more frequently." His voice deepens into a snarl. "Don't throw that goddamn progress away. I know you don't fucking want to—especially now—but you need to." His admonishment pales in comparison to Midoriya's.

"Does it matter anymore? Quite evidently, I never deserved to experience love when I do not have the capacity to retain it. When I can so swiftly discard it as if it held no significance to me. Nonetheless, I absolutely detest eating. I forced myself to for Izuku's sake, and he is gone. Bakugou, I killed him. It was never my intention, but I cannot change the past."

"We're getting you some help."

"Absolutely not. I can take care—"

"Obviously, you can't!"

Damn. I will not drag others into my own affairs. Whatever I have to do to please you, I will force myself to do. Regardless of how much it hurts, how much I abhor it, or how strenuous it is, I will do it. I will do it...so I can't h-hurt anyone else.

"Be it so. I'll eat."

Even if I fill my stomach and sate my hunger, I cannot fill the hole in my chest. Izuku fleetingly filled that gap. But now he is gone. The wound has opened. The blood is flowing. The pain is unbearable.

Bakugou offers a disgruntled sigh. "Great. I'm still coming over there. And with that crap out of the way, tell me how you're doing." Unceremonious is his last sentence, but I nonetheless follow in line with his rules.

How am I doing? What...the fuck? "I haven't any answer," I mutter, exhaling a visible breath through the languid drops of snow.

Aside from chastising myself for being such an inexpiable disappointment and being so incredibly callous for failing to feel grief over Izuku's death, I have never found myself with a beckoning urge to take up a blade so strongly before. How am I doing... Why would you even consider inquiring as to how I'm doing? What do you expect? 'I'm fantastic! Thank you for asking!' No. I... I-I...