The Flap of a Butterfly's Wings

Regressing While Developing

    The Night Room is pitch black and insanely quiet. Izuku decided that he doesn't like it. At all. It's isolating and the quietness is killing him with how loud it is.

    At least with the cells, he could briefly tell what time of day it was. He knew when the night guards switched with the day guards and vice-verca, but here he has no clue. Jude said he was supposed to be in here for three months. Which, in Izuku's mind, was absolutely insane.

    His arms were covered in scratch marks, not that he could see them. It was the only way to keep him grounded and not have a panic attack. It was just so dark and there were times where Izuku didn't even know if he had closed his eyes or not. He couldn't tell how big the room was, but it seemed so small. It was always so hard to breathe, but no matter how hard he clawed at the door, ripping off his own finger nails out in the process, he couldn't get out.

    He needed to get out.

    Hato never knew he would miss Tomura's snarky comments so much, but he did. A lot. He wondered how he was doing, if he had fought in the assassin stage yet. Would Tomura use his quirk? Or was he too scared of what would happen if he did?

How long has it been?

Izuku rubbed a thumb over the white ribbon tied to his wrist. It calmed him down and made him focus. Izuku tried to only let the good memories of Madoka play through his mind, but sometimes the bad ones (covered in blood, always covered. Red red red, so much red-) would slip through and play in his mind as well. That's when Izuku ripped his hand away from the white ribbon like it had burned him.

He needed to talk to someone, or else he swears his own mind will swallow him whole.

__________

    It's been about a month since Tomura has seen Hato. He doesn't know where his friend is, and it's starting to freak him out. He doesn't even know if Hato is even alive; the thought always sending him into a mild panic (he can't loose his first friend. If he does he might just go crazy. The urges of tearing up his skin raw are back stronger than ever now. His skin itches and all he wants to do is scratch and scratch and scratch-).

    Today's his first day fighting in the Assassin stage. He doesn't want to go -he never wants to go-, especially without Hato their to encourage him or even fight with him. Tomura feels like he's been spoiled with Hato's kindness, and now that it's been ripped away from him, he feels empty and fragile.

    Before Hato was brought to the arena, Tomura was closed off towards everyone. No one had ever been even remotely kind to him, so as a coping mechanism, he convinced himself that kindness made you weak. It helped in a toxic sort of way. Made it easier to accept that no one has (and ever will) be kind to him. After all, he couldn't afford to be weak.

    Then Hato came along. His bright determined eyes and warm smile (the brat's hand were shaking. He said he wasn't scared. Tomura knew he was lying.) made it hard to ignore him. The kid was practically enveloped in kindness that had blinded Tomura before he even had the chance to turn away.

    Tomura tried his damn hardest to run away from it (he can't be weak. People get mad when he shows a hint of fragility), but it was futile. He let himself sink into the warm blanket of affection throughout the months that they had known each other. What was surprising, was that Tomura didn't feel weaker, no, he felt stronger.

    Now, stepping into the arena with his power coursing through his veins freely (its been aeons since he's felt his quirk. It both comforts him and terrifies him). Tomura thought that he would feel more powerful before, and in a sense, he does. But the confidence he used to have when Hato was here was gone, nowhere to be seen.