Chapter Text
Pretty red lines paint my skin, just like the color of Kacchan's eyes. Silver and pretty, it dips, dives and draws pretty patterns all over. I've lost the will to do anything else but paint, sometimes my lines are thick and angry other times they're thin and hopeless. I dream of my art again, the thick ones, the thin ones, the ones my mom made, the ones Kacchan makes, deep in my heart a deep bleeding gash that he keeps slicing into.
'You do that? freak.'
I jolt awake, I hate the dreams where they make Kacchan seem like a horrible person. I know he's just..misguided. I get up and go to the bathroom. I'm too tired to brush my teeth today, or take a shower, or wash my face, or stand, or breathe. I wonder how it would feel if I couldn't breathe. A voice whispers into my ear, A fleeting idea, but I know if I ignore it, it’ll just fester. So when it says, ‘Choke yourself' I think, good idea. I stare at myself in the mirror as I bring my hands up. I learned the proper way to choke myself, just the right amount to make my soul float. I press my thumbs against that tube, the middle of my neck and take a big exhale, letting the wind get all out of my lungs, and then I push, I press and push and watch myself, until my eyes go hazy. the voice came back, sounding like Kacchan and laughing 'How ugly. just look at how stupid you look, fucking idiot' I let go of my neck and sigh, swollowing the saliva that built up my throat and running my hand through my dirty hair. 'When was the last time you took a shower anyways?' the voice asked mockingly, almost laughing at me. I shrug and leave the bathroom, disappointment settling deep inside me.
I rummage through my closet, clicking my tongue as I find no clothes laundered, I decide it's fine and throw on the one I had yesterday. I shudder as I slide it on my arm, feeling the blood crusted material irritating my wounds. Thank god this uniform was blackI start to make my way downstairs. I listen closely at every creak at the stairs, my mother’s voice increasing in volume "stupid fucking Hisashi! his stupid ass couldn't care for his dumbass quirkless son-" i cover my ears as I make my way all the way down the steps. I guess that means no breakfast, I sigh, I don't even remember the last time mom made breakfast, but it's okay, I don't deserve it anyways, I never have. I slip on my shoes and quietly leave the house, not bothering to zip my bag, trying to be as cautious as possible even though I knew mom was hungover. I make sure to close the door as quietly as possible so mom can't hear me leave. I'm sure if she heard me she would beat me again.
I sigh, as I leave the house, my eyes almost glazing over as I put in my ripoff airpods, and start playing Hold the Sun by Maya Hawke. I let her soothing voice guide me, the same way I want my mother to guide me. I scoff at the thought, a mere fantasy.God, my legs hurt. I don't want to walk, or live anymore. I breathe deeply trying to expel my thoughts, they keep coming back, like a cloud of sadness, raining down tragedy. I seethe as my legs almost buckle together, I cut too deep yesterday, way too deep, I don't even know how I'm going to survive Kacchan today... I see Aldera come into view.
I groan, putting my ripoff airpods away and checking the time as I pause my music. 7:30. Shit. 'You should have walked slower y’know~, you're here early' the voice laughed at my misery. I don't pay the voice any mind though, too engrossed in panicking. Fuck fuck fuck. Maybe if I run into the bathroom? I don't have to see Kacchan today.. I cry at how fast the universe gave me a middle finger, he was at the fucking gates, just my luck. Fuck fuck fuck. My breathing starts to pick up as I feel the familiar feeling of panic engulf me. Maybe I can just walk past? Kacchan probably won’t be paying attention. 'What a good idea! you totally won't get caught like that' the voice laughs again. I have no choice, I picked up my pace and walked faster, and for a moment, I thought Kacchan didn't care or maybe chose to ignore me.
That was until I heard the familiar cracking sound, I halt in place, trembling. That was Kacchan's warning. Kacchan and Tsubasa immediately erupt into laughter behind me, "Deku, what's got you trembling?" Kacchan puts his hand on my shoulder. I flinch as his palm starts to heat up. It burned. It burned and hurt so much, I couldn't move, I just stood in place, the tears already building up. Tsubasa laughs "he's already ready to cry, what a crybaby" Kacchan tilts an eyebrow and shoves me, knocking my books out of my open bag "Is that right?" I started to panic, I didn't want Kacchan to think I was dumb, so I nodded along to him. God, what will I do now?? It was always like this, a beating in the morning and one after school, maybe lunch if i wasn’t careful enough. At this point I just start blocking out everything he says, it's always the same thing over and over again, so unoriginal but it hurts so much. My chest hurts…I can’t even breathe. Kacchan snaps his fingers in front of my face, frowning for some reason. “Earth to Deku ” I blink rapidly and look at him. He turns to Tsubasa, laughing in disbelief and shoves me as he talks, pushing me to the floor this time, further staining my Aldera uniform with dirt, “Can you believe this nerd? He wasn’t even fucking listening” Fuck. I had made Kacchan angry didn’t I? I always ruin things, it's why he's always angry at me, it's my fault. Kacchan please smile, smile for me? “I'm sorry Kacchan..” I mutter. He looks down at me and scoffs, “Too late to be sorry now. Meet me on the roof after school, Deku. ” I quickly nod, relieved that Kacchan didn’t think I needed more punishment. The voice scoffs ‘You always need punishment, it's what you deserve. Don’t be forgetting that now’. I scramble to grab my belongings and start running to the classroom, Ignoring the jeers of Kacchan and Tsubasa.
I run through the familiar hallways, somehow finding myself facing the bathroom door. I stand still for a moment, like a deer in headlights, deciding what to do. “Fuck it.” I run to the second stall and fumble with the lock, quickly dropping my belongings to the floor and hunching over the toilet. I tried my hardest to throw up, trying everything before I heard the warning bell ring. I start to panic and shove two fingers in my mouth, pressing the back of my tongue, I gag and begin to cry. Nothing was coming out ‘Well duh, you didn’t eat breakfast. You puked yesterday after dinner too’ The voice said in a bored tone. I couldn’t think much about what it said before the familiar feeling of dread and disgust filled my throat. I begin to puke, it wasn't like usual though, It was white. It wasn’t brown or yellow like usual. I begin to panic and cry even more, pulling away from the toilet bowl in disgust. “What the fuck..” I say in a panicked whisper, my voice cracking embarrassingly, I swallow, fighting the next round of bile trying to make its way out of my mouth, as the toilet bowl automatically flushes taking away the white vomit. What the fuck even was that. I scramble to my bag, fumbling with the second zipper, and with shaky hands typing. As I wait for the screen to load, tears spill out of my eyes, “Fuck it, fucking fuck it all.” I put my phone down and take out my boxcutter, not as good as the scalpel at home, but manageable. I pull up my sleeve on my left arm, the cuts I made yesterday were brown and pink, swelling. I click my tongue as I realize that I won't have any clean space that I can cut into, pressing the blade in anyways, I make cut, after cut, after cut. Letting out a sigh as I see the blood bead on my skin before weeping down the sides of my forearm. I cut until I can’t see my cuts from yesterday, until I can't hear the voice guiding my hand. Until I can't think about Kacchan anymore. After a while I just lie against the stall wall, my hands going slack against the floor, my blood pooling on the tiles, I sigh as my head lolls to the side. I stare at the blood leaking out of my arm. “I have to clean that…” I mumble out loud, trying to get myself to at least get up, or get some energy. After I realize I'm missing the first period and absences mean calls home, I groan, willing my body to move to my bag, taking out my wipes, wiping off my arm, seething at the disinfectant that was clearly not meant to clean wounds. After I bandage myself I start to work on the blood stained tiles, groaning as I realize it was stained well into the cracks, I still decide to clean up what I can.
I put on my headphones again and I get my bag and shrug it on, making sure to zip it up this time as I get up and unlock the stall quickly throwing out the blood filled wipes and washing up my hands. I anxiously bite my lip as I wonder about what the teacher would say to me getting late. I shudder. I don't even want to think about it. No doubt it’s going to be something original like how quirkless and useless I am, according to Kacchan. I laugh dryly at my sarcasm as I make my way out of the bathroom and walk into my classroom.