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Truly, Hizashi doesn't know what set himself off this time. His usual triggers had all been somewhat numbed after he had finally given in and got prescribed an antidepressant.
He had thought that - with how much the medication had boosted his mood - he wouldn't be having breakdowns like this ever again.
But despite his rather naive hopes, he had found himself hiding in the bathroom once again after telling Shouta he would be showering.
He still planned on showering of course, but first he needed to settle the crawling feeling of disgust and an unnamable sort of anxiety clawing at his gut.
immediately, like a puppet on strings he jerked himself forwards, reaching for Shouta's designated drawer.
After fumbling for a minute to get the drawer open with his shaking hands and then another minute spent rummaging as quietly as he could to not alert Shouta, he pulled his hand back out, now holding a gleaming pair of small grooming scissors.
At the beginning of them living together Shouta had insisted the usefulness of the scissors and now Hizashi planned to test that so called usefulness.
Bringing the scissors up to the soft unblemished flesh of his shoulder he attempts to make a small cut, subconsciously aiming for an area that was less noticeable.
However he quickly realizes these scissors - however sharp they may be - weren't going to give him the wounds he wants, the wounds he deserves.
A sharp and violent flash of anger follows the failed attempt at injury. Hizashi can feel a - likely quirk boosted - scream build up in his throat, pushing against his teeth however the only thing that comes out is a low growl.
The flare of anger spreads its way through his body until his arms are lashing out, slamming the pathetic little scissors back into the drawer and collapsing back on top of the closed toilet lid.
Hizashi feels like a wild animal, flighty and quick to anger. His rage stalls, hesitant to leave his body and forcing him to expel it by digging his fingernails into his arms.
As he sits still, breathing heavily he can hear the soft mechanical sound of the heater in the bathroom shutting off. His ears ring loudly in the silence, making up for the loss of noise.
After about a minute of sitting and staring at the floor he grabs his phone, checking his texts - of which he has none - rather disinterestedly.
It takes another five minutes of doom scrolling for him the remember the thinning shears he had bought for himself and Shouta after the man had expressed annoyance over the thickness of his hair.
These scissors had given Hizashi and Shouta both their fair share of small wounds by accident, slicing themselves without realizing while using them.
Hizashi knows from experience how sharp those scissors can really be and for a lack of a better tool he couldn't help but feel the searing need to use them.
His shaking hand meanders its way over to his own drawer, pausing for a second until he's able to steel himself and opening it.
The matte black paint coating everything but the blades edge is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, he thinks.
An aggressive shiver of anticipation rolls its way up his spine making his scalp tingle. Grabbing the scissors almost seems forbidden, as if they are some sort of sacred item.
Hizashi can't wait any longer, he can feel the itching of his skin pleading him to split himself open on these scissors.
He allows this itching to draw his shaking hand forward, hesitantly grabbing his blade of choice and bringing it up to the same shoulder he had planned on splitting earlier.
All it takes to steel himself is a harsh breath inward and suddenly he can feel a stinging in his shoulder and small drops of blood beading along the edges of the small slash. Immediately he dives in again, slicing once more except this time he presses harder - not enough to give him anything but a cat scratch - but it still fuels the urge.
Soon he has a shoulder littered in leaky red gashes and a heart-rate that's thumping like a jackrabbit in his chest.
It's at this point where Hizashi puts down the scissors and actually takes a moment to think about what he's doing. Almost immediately guilt and regret sink in.
He had no reason for doing this, he's been getting better! He had a good day even! Yet he still sliced up his shoulder and now he's going to have to carry these wounds until they heal.
He thinks that maybe injuring himself released some adrenaline or something or maybe his eagerness to harm himself shook him up that badly because he's violently shaking. He can hardly steady his hands enough to return the scissors quietly and grab some toilet paper to soak up the blood.
It took about a minute for Hizashi to stem the blood into something more manageable. Once the wounds had been cleaned he slapped a few BandAids over top before committing himself to showering. Washing himself was an aggravating ordeal as Hizashi had to try not to agitate his wounds further. He also found it considerably hard to stretch his arm upwards to scrub at his hair and wash his face.
*\\*
While he was drying himself with his favorite towel Hizashi realized that he was in a little bit of a pickle. He was feeling extremely not normal and considering how well his husband knew him, it would be pretty obvious he had done something destructive.
Mulling over his predicament Hizashi made the executive decision to avoid Shouta as much as possible without being suspicious.
Throwing on a random shirt and some boxers he had lying around Hizashi stumbles his way out of the bathroom and into his and Shouta's shared bedroom. He had strategically chosen to meander his way into their bedroom as opposed to the living room to skirt his way around Shouta seeing the - likely pale - haunted look on his face.
He spent the rest of the night faking laughter and boisterousness, trying to ignore the suspicious looks Shouta keeps shooting his way when he thinks Hizashi isn't looking.
It took until he layed down in bed along side Shouta - still wearing a shirt to hide the BandAids - that the other man said something to him.
"Hizashi..." The man broke off, obviously unsure of how to continue. "What did you do, why are you acting like that," he started again hesitantly.
Hizashi blinked, trying his best to ignore the sweat he can feel beading on his brow. "Like what, my dear Shouta?" he feigned, stretching into his husbands space in a poor imitation of their usual intimacy.
The dark haired man huffed, irritated before replying sharply, "Weird! You're acting strange and I can tell you did something I just don't know what."
Shouta could see Hizashi's expression break slightly, his signature 'Present Mic grin' becoming more strained. The man knew if he pressed just a little bit harder Hizashi would break and everything would come rushing out like a dam.
Sniping the silence before Hizashi could respond Shouta said, tone sweetened from concern, "I'm not trying to be aggressive its just that I'm worried, Zash, I don't want to just brush something off and then find you dead some day."
Blinking dazedly at the man in front of him Hizashi could feel tears building along his lashes. Frantically he blinked them away before throwing himself into his husband with a guttural sob.
He couldn't remember the last time he had allowed himself the comfort of screaming his worries out but, under his husband's watchful and quirk-induced gaze he felt that wave of freedom wash over himself.
It took almost an hour of screaming, sobbing and an entire bottle of eye drops for Hizashi's soul to settle. He allowed himself to glance up, catching his husband's sad yet fond gaze with his own red rimmed one.
Shakily reaching his hand out Hizashi took Shouta's hands within his own before looking down at their comforter and speaking. "Shouta I... I might have spiraled a little bit and um... I maybe hurt myself..." He trailed off, feeling Shouta's hands clench slightly beneath his palm.
"Okay, that's... well it's not ok but we can deal with it." The man said, removing his hands from Hizashi's to cup them on the other's face.
"Hizashi, you are the love of my life and we can get through this, together." He stated, leaving no room for argument.
Despite the hour spent crying, Hizashi somehow found his eyes tearing up at the words anyway. "Okay... Together," He promised before burying Shouta in a heavy hug, planting all his weight onto the other man out of exhaustion.
"Can... Can we go to bed now?" He requested quietly into his husband's ear.
"Yeah, my love... let's go to bed," The other responded.
As they rested their weary bodies onto their mattress and settled in for the night Hizashi couldn't help but get the feeling that he would get better, maybe not immediately but, soon.
The promise of soon was all it took for him to drift off into soft dreams of love and kindness and a future that past him wouldn't have been able to comprehend.