𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 ║Izuku ✘ Reader

28. | Blood dripping

Izuku shakily looks up from his hands, his own life and memories flashing before his eyes.

"....I'm doing this for you, why can't you se that dammit! You have L/n and Todoroki, that's all you need. Now stand up and look me in the eyes, and tell me you'll forget about me!" 

Katsuki quickly walks over to him, grabs him by his collar and lifts the boy up on his feet. Their eyes gazing each other, one with fear and the other with tears.

Izuku whimper beneath his touch, "N-No please don't make me say that"

"Do it! Tell me how much you loathe for bullying you" Katsuki bursts out, "I told you to die, you are worthless, nothing compared to me!"

Izuku continues to shake his head, putting his hands over Katsuki's larges ones, refusing to look him in the eye.

"I can't! Th-That's not what I wanted in life! All I ever wanted was to stand by your side as an equal!" Izuku yells, eyebrows creased.

In desperation and guilt, he says something he doesn't want to say. He does the last thing he wanted to do again.

"Well I don't! We were never meant to be friends! I don't want you in my life and neither should you, so grab this fucking opportunity and move on"

Katsuki's grip on Izuku losens as the boy drops to his knees, eyes wide with pure terror.

What was this? His breathing quickens and he feels like he is about to throw up, an itching sensation comes from his bandaged wrists.
Cutting, he needs to.
But what was this? His mind is going haywire, all his thoughts breaking him into glass shards.
The good old panic attack.

Izuku hears the door slam shut, he's alone. Katsuki left him, he can't look at his face. He's disgusting, worthless of life.
The dread, oh the dread is too strong.

In a flash, the green haired boy had cupped a hand over his mouth and ran into the bathroom, his eyes hazy so he stumbles in front of the toilet.
"Nngh!" He holds his stomach in pain, it's clenching, it hurts, it hurts. Izuku manages to prop himself forward before throwing up into the toilet, coughing up so much that a tiny bit of blood spurted out.

Breathing heavily, he weakly crawls over to the wall, leaning against it for comfort. Still panting like crazy, he gazes at his hands who still had a bit of blood on them.
Blood.
He needed more.

Oh and what was that? He hears faint voices from afar, forgetting his pain, he crawls over to the door and locks it.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" He cries out, putting a hand in his pocket to find a razor blade. A pro always knows how to keep things like that hidden, besides he had been doing it for three years.

Nobody needed to know.

The young teen unfolds his bandages on both arms, eyes scamming the flesh of his skin. So long since he did it, his skin practically healed and fresh for new cuts. A release.

Izuku shakily grabs the thin blade, feeling it prick under his pinky finger. Remembering how it used to feel. So alone and dark.

Tears that are still running down his cheeks, he ignores. The soft whimpers that leave his mouth, everyone ignored.

'Just do it...Kacchan hates you, he wants you to do this'

'You are so damn pathetic, to think you ever wanted to become a hero!'

'You can't even smile!!"

"Midoriya!! Please open the door" A loud bang on his door makes him drop the razor, flinching away from the door frame.

Someone is here, again to interrupt him. Izuku frowns to himself, he shakes his head and picks up the razor.

"You are going to slide through my skin, because that is what I deserve" The boy mutters quietly to himself, annoyed at the loud and obnoxious voice outside.

"No one is going to save me" His lip trembles, closing his eyes and waiting to the cold impact to come. Waiting to see his blood spill.

"Midoriya you have to open this door at once! Or I'll have to call reforces" Rose yells through the door. She can't hear anything, but knows something's wrong as she was the one who let Bakugou enter his room.

'Drip drop, no one is coming'

'Drip drop, only blood is covering'

With one final push to his wrist, Izuku cries out in pain as blood oozes from his skin, dripping down to the floor slowly.

It's done, it's finally done.

His silent whimpers, cold feet, drained hues.
So came another cut on his other wrist with an equal amount of pain.

Head falling on the cold unforgiving floor, as it did many times before.
Green curls planted around, wrist laying next to him, giving him a view of how the blood bubbles out of him. His other hand rests on his chest, drenching his clothes.

A loud scream he hears, but his eyes are closing.

Wait? Who's scream was that?
But it was too late.