#withywords

The pain had been sudden, so sudden, catching him completely by surprise. It started as a low wave of ache deep in his stomach, but after only a couple minutes, the pain was deep and heavy. Angry. Twisting tightly as if woven into the fabric of his cells.

As Bakugou dried himself off and slipped into a new pair of clothes, he tried to track the path of the agony through his body. It was like experiencing a vivid painting; a mismatched canvas of blues and greens, with harsh splotches of red splattered discordantly across the piece. It made no sense. The pain made no sense.

His stomach. A sudden, sharp stab, like a knife in his guts, had him clutching at his black pajama shirt with a trembling hand and gritted teeth. It faded after just a moment, but the deep, roiling serpent in his abdomen seemed to grow angrier in exchange. He couldn’t… he couldn’t place the source of the pain. It seemed to wrap around his brain, trailing fire in its wake, before slithering back into his chest, then down again into his stomach, where it sank in with poisoned talons, injecting pure torment. Different areas around his entire body throbbed in mismatched sequence, each providing its own brand of misery in its own timing.

What the actual hell. He needed to get to his room so he could crawl into a ball on his bed and pass out. The fact that it was only just past six pm be damned, hopefully sleep would take care of whatever the fuck this was.

Not wanting to soak his tee-shirt, Bakugou gave his dripping hair a couple scrubs with the towel, and leaving the cloth on his head, scooped up his shower bag and hurriedly made for his room. He plastered a scowl in place to act as a buffer between himself and any classmates he might run into on his way. He trusted that they’d figure out pretty quickly that he wasn’t up for a conversation. Loathe as his was to admit it, they were getting better at reading his moods.

After the abrupt initial awakening of the beast in his body, the nausea—for he finally recognized what he was feeling—was increasing way too quickly. With every step he felt himself bending a little more, curling around what was quickly becoming the core of his agony.

In addition, the sharp stabs of pain were happening more frequently. By the time Bakugou had reached his floor, his legs and arms were trembling. He felt cold sweat sliding between his shoulder blades and down his sides. By the time he reached the door to his room, his breaths were coming in heavy pants, dragged noisily through a throat trying to close up on itself. Luckily, nobody was around to see him falling apart. Especially Shitty Hair, whose bright and overly concerned eyes Bakugou could easily picture.

He all but fell into his room, locked the door behind him. Dropping his shower bag and towel on the floor, he collapsed into bed, curling up on his side with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach.

Another harsh stab, worse than the rest, drew a small noise from his throat. He turned his head and buried his face into his pillow, coiling more tightly around himself. His chest jerked with each stilted intake of air, his breaths becoming more shallow and rapid, as if he could combat the pain by moving his lungs as little as possible.

He’d thought that lying down and staying still would help. He had hoped.

It hadn't. The snake was angry. His guts were twisting around, fighting for new positions inside of him. His head was throbbing in time with the beat of his frantic heart against his chest. His body was soaked with sweat.

Seriously, what the hell.

Bakugou felt a cool sensation spreading in core. His mouth went suddenly dry, even while saliva pooled under his tongue. With a grimace, his teeth grinding together, he knew what was about to happen. Scrambling from the bed, Bakugou practically flung himself at the bathroom door.

Several minutes later he emerged, panting heavily, drops of cool sweat running down his temple and chest. His hands where squeezed into tight fists, but Bakugou drew in a deep breath, letting it fill him completely, before exhaling heavily, slowly. His fists released in tandem with the tension in his body. One hand reached up to clutch at his shirt as the nausea slowly faded from his abdomen. The snake was unclenching, releasing its fangs, allowing him to breathe deeply with more ease.

Drained of energy, he slumped to his knees in front of his fridge and pulled out a bottle of water to chase away the acid and soothe his dry mouth. His bottles of vitamins and supplements rattled atop his fridge as the door shut again.

The water felt nice in his stomach, the coolness of it like a balm to the fire inside. The nausea was nearly gone now, but he remained on his knees and just breathed slowly, shoulders gently rising and falling. His eyes fell closed as he relaxed.

Bakugou was exhausted, and all he wanted was to fall into sleep, but something like this didn’t happen for no reason. He wanted to know why. It wasn’t food poisoning, he knew that much. Perhaps an allergic reaction of some kind?

His eyes shot open, and he lifted them to stare at the innocuous looking bottles lined up neatly atop the fridge. He reached out, picked one up. Studied the bottle with rapt attention.

“Mother… fucker.”

It was a bottle of 5-HTP, a serotonin supplement, one of the handful of health boosting supplements he took every day. He’d switched brands recently and… this bottle had a higher milligram count per pill.

He’d fucking overdosed on serotonin. Bakugou gripped the bottle so hard the plastic cracked, then chucked it across the room where it slammed into the wall. Somehow it remained intact and dropped to roll across the floor.

Bakugou was furious at himself. He wanted to yell and set off some choice explosions. But more than that, he was exhausted. Yelling could come later. With no small effort, he dragged himself to his feet, trudged the couple steps to bed, and fell into it.

He drifted off into a calm sleep as the last of the nausea faded away.

~~~