Rushing Water

8

Eidolon
(noun)

1. An idealized person or thing.

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Calm.
Even though his heart raced with anticipation.

Wind flowing through the red hair, creating something close to a mane around his head.
Eyes closed and chest expanding to maximum capacity before deflating once more.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.

And then he was leaning over the edge, feeling that familiar misty spray of water on his face.
It soaked his clothes to the point where they clung to his skin uncomfortably and left his body to be wracked with shivers.

Teeth chattering and heart thumping.
Tears streamed down those rosy cheeks.

"You're crying. Do you know why you're crying? 'S because you don't wanna kill yourself, you want to kill something inside of you. If you were dropped into a lake, you'd fight for your life. Now you know why. Listen to me: this...this isn't you, you're better than this. I've got your back."

But he was wrong.
That thing inside of him was him.
It wasn't just a thing anymore.

He was falling.
Literally and figuratively.

Falling into the depths of his mind, the dark nooks and crannies that no one wants to see. Because there it was scary. There they lurked. Anything and everything waiting to pounce and drag you away from the light and hope. If that even existed in the first place.

Falling into the freezing water below the bridge.
A splash and ice shot up his spine to overtake his thoughts.

Swim!
His mind screamed.

He didn't.

Farther and farther, swept into the current and dragged every which way. Rushing water filled his eardrums and he missed the anguished scream of the blond as he threw himself over the edge in search of his lost friend.

Hands frantic and body shaking, he searched. Screamed. Cried. Called for help.

But by the time he got there the rushing water had already closed up after him.

People rushed about, yelling to one another as they crawled further down the river in search of the lost boy.
A mile.

His body was discovered a mile down the river, caught on a branch. Limp and lifeless, his skin pale and freezing to the touch.

"Fucking hell Eijirou...come back..." Bakugou mumbled, clutching at his shirt and face as he  shook the boy helplessly, still kneeling in the icy water.
"You made me promise not to leave, so you can't fucking leave me either..."

"He was long gone before now." A gentle voice whispered, pulling Bakugou out of the water and away from the lifeless teen.

"Why didn't I bring him back? I tried so goddamn hard-"

"Because he couldn't have been brought back at that point." Aizawa mumbled.
"This isn't your fault."

"It feels like it is."

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Word count: 457