Chapter Text
It had been a long while since Katsuki Bakugo had a good night’s sleep. Too long since he let the demons win.
Last night, Shoto Todoroki learned what it truly means to love someone. Last night, he received a call from a very, very drunk Bakugo, insisting he couldn’t take it any longer. He had tried to kill himself.
Last night, Eijirou Kirishima received a call from Shoto, telling him what had happened. He learned what it feels like to be let go. He lost his best friend to a monster he never knew existed.
Last night, Izuku Midoriya discovered the harsh truth about trying to save everyone: some people simply don’t want to be saved.
☆
Katsuki Bakugo had never been the most cheerful man in the world, but this—being shit-faced drunk on the cold bathroom floor of his apartment—was a new low. He sat on the gray tile, a bottle of cheap vodka in one hand and a nearly empty pill bottle by his left foot.
The faint trickling of water in the background seemed to fade the longer he sat—or lay there. He couldn’t tell how his muscles arranged themselves anymore, only that he couldn’t move them beyond their current position.
The shower had been running for longer than he could remember, but his muscles seemed to have a mind of their own; they had chosen to retire. He couldn’t manage to lift his body off the floor. Had it been minutes? Hours? Since he slumped into submission? It felt as if lead filled his bones and dragged him deeper and deeper down.
He was drowning in quicksand, but this time, it wouldn’t stop at his neck. He knew it would rise higher, faster, until it completely submerged him.
Get up, you weak fuck
The Voice whispered again and again. Dozens of variations, but all stung the same. They hurt him in a way he would never admit—more than any blade against skin or any shot of alcohol down his throat.
He remembered when he knew how to silence it. Pushing harder, he would run faster. Fight stronger. He dedicated himself to nothing but survival—fighting to be better than anyone who dared speak to him. No matter the cost. No matter how his sanity slowly shattered, like a thin pane of glass, ready to break at any moment.
Get up. Move. Come on, you lazy bastard. You know the only person who would miss you is the same one who's bound to lie beside you on the tracks.
Shoto.
He forced himself to rise, though his head pounded, and his ears screamed. Bakugo reached for the sink, grabbed his phone, then fell back to the floor. He couldn’t remember how much he’d drunk. As he glanced at the time, the few remaining pieces of the puzzle slid together.
01:02
Fuck.
He’d been there for nearly two hours, and the Voice hadn’t stopped screaming. Bakugo stared at his unmoving hands as if that might sober him up.
Are you really going to call him? God, you’re so fucking weak. You couldn’t fight me alone, so you’re burdening him? What a goddamn loser.
Shutupshutupshutup.
He couldn’t tell if he was speaking out loud anymore. He couldn’t make sense of his own head. Before his mind could stop himself, he pressed call.
One ring. Two. Three.
A cold, shaking finger hovered over the end call button when a sleepy voice answered.
“Bakugo? Why are you calling this late? Should I come over?”
It was as if he already knew how the night would end when he said that. Silence followed Todoroki’s deep, tired voice before Bakugo slurred his greeting.
“Hey, Icy-Hot.”
His words stuck together like hot caramel on skin. He groaned audibly, trying to get up again. He didn’t know what he was doing—only that he prayed it would end with him in his bed or, failing that, a grave.
“Fuck, Bakugo. I’ll be right over. How much have you had? If you lie to me, I’ll kick your ass.”
Seconds passed before a gentler voice followed:
“Please don’t lie to me.”
Bakugo knew the threat was empty. There was no bite behind the bark—not this late at night, not when worry laced his voice.
“About two-thirds of a bottle of...uh...fuck, my eyes won’t focus. Oh, shit, two-thirds bottle of vodka. And my entire bottle of antidepressants. I think I’m dying.”
His voice lightened as the conversation went on. Though still slurring, Todoroki could hear the pain locked away, hidden rather than on full display.
“Katsuki, is the door unlocked?”
He hummed a yes before continuing his delirious rant.
“I don’t know, baby. I don’t think death would be bad. I hope it’s just darkness. That I simply no longer exist. I’ll be at peace, Sho. I’ll finally be happy.”
Silence. The Voice whispered:
You’re going to scare him off. He’s all you have left.
Fear ran through the blond’s veins. He couldn’t lose Todoroki, no matter the cost to himself.
“Shoto? Baby?”
Todoroki’s voice returned, and the quiet creak of a door opening echoed through the halls. The sound magnified in Bakugo’s mind, reflecting endlessly. He wondered how long something could echo for. Who would hear the shot if he pulled the trigger—
“Katsuki...”
The bathroom door opened. Shoto took in the sight before him. Bakugo lay halfway against the wall, bottle in hand, mirrors steamed from the hot shower still running. His hair, always wild, looked as if it had given up—strands falling into his face. An oil stain darkened the right sleeve of his gray hoodie, nearly black.
Slowly, Shoto’s eyes met Bakugo’s. All fight had left him, visible on his face. The red eyes he knew were glassed over. Smudged eyeliner underlined each one, as if applied days ago. He looked more gone than a corpse, and the sight terrified Todoroki deeply.
A horrible memory crossed his mind. One year, two months ago, this had been him. Though he never touched the bottle, he bore scars from that night. He prayed they would fade. They never did.
He still hadn’t healed. Not really.
How was he supposed to help Bakugo survive? Someone he loved more than life itself? He couldn’t go a week without thinking of ending it.
“Please, Sho. Don’t. I don’t want your fucking pity. I know I’m weak. For fuck’s sake, I’m worse than I’ve ever been. And I know I’ll never truly come back from this. I’ll never be #1 hero. Not when I can’t even get out of bed most days. So what’s the point of existing at all? I just can’t—”
His last words broke into a muffled cry. Bakugo was crying for the first time in months, maybe years, and he hated himself more than ever for it.
You’re so fucking worthless. What a pitying little bitch you have to be to cry over your own pain.
As if sensing the Voice’s return, he reached out for Bakugo’s face, cradling it in his cold hands.
“Bakugo, love. Look at me.”
He failed to. The other man’s gaze was something he couldn’t meet without surrendering his last bit of sanity. He couldn’t let his walls crumble—not here, not now.
Todoroki sighed, completely surrendered, dropping to his knees beside the blond.
“Please, Bakugo. Just look at me.”
Something inside snapped. His gaze lifted, and it seemed the walls he fought to hold up tumbled beneath their own weight, crushing him. Brick hit his head, bruising and bleeding. Quicksand rose from his chest to his neck. The room in his mind shrank until all that remained was the pit of quicksand and a crumpled pile of bricks. There was no escape.
“I love you, Katsuki.”
Shoto pressed a kiss to his forehead—the only way he could express how badly he wanted to save him.
Bakugo burst into tears, unable to hold anything in. He curled into Todoroki, despite his instincts (the few that remained) urging him to blast both Todoroki and himself.
“I’m calling EMS. We’re getting you to a hospital. I’m sorry.”
“Why?” His voice grew quieter, venomous but aimed only at himself. “You and I both know you’d be the only one to miss me. If I died here, you would too. We’ll drown together, no matter how selfish it seems.”
Todoroki wished it were a lie. He wanted to prove it wrong—to do anything to show it wasn’t true.
“I won’t die tonight. Neither will you.” His voice was eerily calm, emotion slipping away, replaced by cold logic, lost on the man in his arms.
“Midoriya will miss you. He’s sacrificed so much trying to help you. He’d be wrecked beyond repair if you died. I don’t think you know how much he cares.”
A pause.
Bakugo’s head curled into Todoroki’s shoulder. He held tight, as if Todoroki’s sides could tether him to reality. He held on as if he never wanted to move again.
“Remember about two months ago? When we had that big fight?”
A gentle nod, then questioning as he sat up and looked Todoroki straight in the eyes.
“Midorya threatened to kill me. Genuinely. Told me if I hurt you like that again, he’d snap every bone in my body and feel no remorse. That what my father did to me would seem kind.”
A light laugh. The air seemed less heavy. The Voice dulled to a barely audible whisper. He could breathe again.
“He actually threatened you? And commented on your raging daddy issues? Deku? That’s fuckin hilarious.”
Bit by bit, the lights in Bakugo’s eyes turned on. Not all the way, but they weren’t quite as dim.
“Shoto?” Katsuki seemed to mutter, barely audible.
“What is it, love?” The other man asked with a kiss to the cheek and a smile reserved only for Bakugo.
“You never called an ambulance.”
Todoroki met the eyes of the blond, as if he could find no better way to speak to him.
“I calculated how much of those antidepressants you could take with no major health consequences a long time ago. I knew this was coming. You’re not going to die, even combined with the horrific amount of alcohol you drank. I will not drag you to a psych ward against your will, but I do hope you go on your own. You’re going to be staying with me for the next few days, whether you like it or not. Im sorry, but I love you, and i cant let you continue to live like this.”
“I hate you, Icy-Hot. Youre an ass.”
Todoroki knew it was a lie. His own fucked up way of saying thank you. He grabbed underneath his knees and beneath his arms, carrying him like he weighed nothing.
“Come on princess, we’re going to my house. You need sleep and I’m going to have to deal with you, hungover, tomorrow morning.”
His voice was monotonous, seemingly uncaring, but Katsuki could see the way his face softened. The way he held the blond as gentle as he could. Tried not to be too loud, so as to help his unspoken headache.
“Oh fuck you. You like when i bitch, no matter how much you say otherwise.”
As he opened the door, they stepped out into the cold winter air, and Bakugo winced at the freezing breeze on his skin.
“You couldnt have grabbed me a damn blanket before carrying me to your car? I could yell right now. Say im being kidnapped by a murderer.”
Todoroki grinned, the first time all night he felt a bit of relief. Bakugo, no matter how drunk, how depressed, had his bite back. Even if only for a moment. He opened the car door for him, and layed the blond into the passenger seat beside him.
“What the fuck r’ you smilin' at? I look like shit.”
Before he could stop himself, a retort shot back.
“You look hot. Wait, shit. No.”
He felt his ears turn red. The grin that spread across Bakugos face was damn near audible.
“Oh, so you dont think im hot? Do you just want me to die, then? Or is that just a lie? Do you want me to kiss you, Icy-Hot?”
As if to prove his point, he reached his hand to the drivers seat to squeeze his thigh. Bakugo laughed, genuinely laughed at the look of horror on Shotos face as he squirmed away from his touch.
“No. Shut up. What i meant is dont be mean to yourself, Katsuki. Its annoying when you look the way you. And you’re still very, very intoxicated. Stop flirting with me.”