One mistake is all it takes for it all to come crashing down. Aizawa experiences this first-hand when he attempts to have Todoroki and Bakugou work on their mental health issues together after noticing the glaring break in their relationship. Will Todoroki and Bakugou save each other and rebuild their friendship, or will they break each other and fall apart? [Completed on 06/30/24.] ⎯ Trigger warnings ⎯ ▪︎ Eating disorders, purging, body dysmorphia ▪︎ Suicidal thoughts/actions/ideations ▪︎ Self-harm ▪︎ Abuse, blood, and violence ▪︎ Toxic, manipulative, and abusive relationships ▪︎ Substance abuse ▪︎ Anxiety and anxiety attacks ▪︎ Homophobia ⎯ Notes and disclaimers ⎯ ▫︎ Triggers not limited to those listed above. ▫︎ Read at your own discretion. ▫︎ This fic is not intended to promote/encourage any of its dark/sensitive themes/topics. ▫︎ I do not own BNHA/MHA. All credit for the series and its characters goes to Horikoshi Kohei. ▫︎ **fantastic cover done by kairichan13!**

***READ 'NUMB' FIRST (ON MY PROFILE)*** Damn it Todoroki What the fuck did you do? Why the fuck did you do this to me? Why the fuck didn't you come back? You knew I never meant to hurt you I know You know that And yet You haven't come back It's been nearly a week I can't I can't handle this My intentions at the start were to help you And then part ways with you To focus on my career But I got attached And now I never want you to leave "I knew this would happen." I muttered angrily, grunting in pain as I kept punching. "I knew as soon as you got better." My eyes teared up a bit, but I convinced myself it was anger. "You wouldn't need me anymore." I said through grinding teeth. "And now you don't need me anymore." I hit it again, and a sharp, burning pain shot up my arm. I stumbled back and yelled in pain. I sat on the ground and stared at the floor, crying and grinding my teeth. You always hated when I'd push myself too much And even after everything No matter how hard I try I'm still a failure I always fail in the end I always fall short It's never enough Nothing I ever do Is enough to come out on top It used to be easy I was just naturally good Comfortable at the top And now I'm struggling just to stay in the running I stood up and walked to the locker room, slamming the door open and closed. I stood in front of the mirror with my hands on both sides of the sink, staring at my reflection. I was a mess. My eyes were red from my tears and my expression was exhausted and distressed. My face was tear-stained and I was light headed. Just completely out of it. I had bags under my eyes from stress filled days and sleepless nights, an obvious lack of rest. No wonder Aizawa confronted me I look like hell I feel like hell Fuck This is hell

"You know, you weren't supposed to see them." He dropped my arm. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He grabbed my other arm, exposing those cuts as well. Bloody bandages fell to the ground and his expression changed. "Is this supposed to make me feel better?!" He held both my arms in front of me. I could feel his hands shaking. I could hear his voice breaking. He was yelling, but I knew it was a facade. He wasn't angry. He was worried. He was sad. He just doesn't know how to express anything else. "It's fine. Don't worry. I'm okay." He dropped my arms and stepped back a bit, looking down for a few seconds. He yelled in frustration, pushing me to the ground suddenly. I avoided eye contact. "In what world?! What part of your fucked up mind is telling you that this is okay?! Because let me fucking tell you right now, if you ever fucking do this to yourself again I swear...." He punched the wall and yelled in frustration, taking a deep breath to calm himself. He paused for a few seconds before speaking again. "Get up." He held out his hand and I took it, standing up shakily. He grabbed my arms again, staring at them sadly. "Again? Why would you hide them again? Why this again?" He pled desperately. "You two." A different voice from across the hallway said, making us both jump a bit. Aizawa walked over to us, looking down at my cuts with slightly widened eyes, then back up at me with a concerned expression. "I need to talk to both of you."

I laid in bed, staring at the blank ceiling above me as silence consumed me. Anxiety gnawed at the pit of my stomach, causing me to grind my teeth as I pulled the blanket over my head. I wasn't cold. I just wanted to hide. I wanted everything to go away. I closed my eyes as I grew tired of staring at nothing, and submerged myself in total darkness instead. I wanted to get up. Of course I wanted to get up. Who would want to just lay here for hours? How boring. A ridiculous waste of time right? So why am I still laying here? Why can't I move? My stomach hurts and I'm anxious. My brain keeps replaying neverending scenarios of fuckups and regrets I have, and I can't escape it. There's nowhere to run from it. I can't escape my thoughts. No matter how long I lay here to numb my mind. No matter how many times I hit myself in the head. No matter how long I avoid the people around me. In the end I'm still a coward. I'm still scared. I'm scared of laying here for hours, until the hunger or the blaring of my alarm clock forces me out of my room. I'm scared of getting up and interacting with those who see me for what I am--pathetic. I'm scared of barely scraping by every day, only to retreat back to this spot on my bed. Scared to repeat this cycle over again. For the rest of my life, I'll be scared. I'll be stuck in this cycle for the rest of my life. The rest of my life will all be the same. Drowning. Too scared to swim. Too scared to let myself float up. Too scared to force myself further down. Too scared to reach for help on the surface So I just lay here And drown For the rest of my life I'm drowning

I stared at my reflection, satisfied with the progress that I had been making lately. Long runs and secret training had helped me stay in shape, and I had gotten used to the hunger pains. I was starting to feel better about myself, and that was good, right? I left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen, where Todoroki was eating dinner. We made small talk for a few minutes, not really about anything specific, but I noticed him start to become less engaged in the conversation as time passed. I sat down with my bottle of water and unscrewed the lid--with a bit of struggle. "Are you gonna eat anything?" He asked, gesturing to the pasta on the stove. I shrugged. "I will in a little while. I'm not hungry right now." He sighed, not sounding surprised by my answer. I expected him to object to this, as usual. However, he simply got up and walked away. He didn't even look at me as he sat down on the couch, turning on the tv. "What's wrong?" I asked, feeling the obvious tension in the room. He didn't say anything at all. Concerned and confused, I walked over to where I could see his face more clearly. Though it was somewhat dark, I could see the tears built up in his eyes as he bit his lip. "Hey, talk to me. Please, what's wrong?" I asked, sitting down next to him. As soon as I sat down, he stood up, tossing the remote onto the couch. He lingered there for a moment, clenching his fists. "You know exactly what's wrong." He spat, almost angrily. "I really don't, just... please talk to me about it." He stayed silent again, and started to leave again. "Hey, that's not fair." I said, standing up and rushing over to him. I grabbed his arm, but he instantly yanked it away from me. "Not fair?!" He asked, bitterly. "You think this isn't fair to you? What about me?! Am I just supposed to sit here and just..." "Just what?" "Nothing. Just..." He grinded his teeth and went back to the bedroom. "When you decide to stop killing yourself, let me know. We'll talk then."