Flawless

The Sad Truth ✅

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Bakugou entered the dorm building, and walked up to his room. He was the only one there, since during the weekend everyone else was visiting their families.

"You're a disgrace to this family!" his mother yelled at him.
"You aren't my son!" his fathers words stabbing into him like a knife.

A stray tear rolled down Bakugous face. Looking around his room, he tried to dristract himself with something to do. He didn't want to remember what had happened only a few hours ago.

A lump began go form in his throat, the want to cry pushing through every other emotion.

He couldn't cry, only weak people cried. He grabs some pj's and changes. Afterwards, he trudges over to his bed, passing out almost instantly after contact with soft blankets and a pillow underneath his head.

In the morning, Bakugou wakes up with a pain in his neck, and his head throbs. He'd fell asleep in quite an uncomfortable position last night.

Everything that happened yesterday comes crashing down like a giant wave on the teenager. He gets up stretching, and walks into the washroom. He turns the handle to the shower, checking the water to be the right temperature before stepping in.

He sighs heavily, finally his emotions escape him, an endless flow unwanted tears. He wants to scream and let out all his pain; But he can't because that would prove that he was weak.

He continues to let the tears fall, the shower being the only place he can let them escape freely.

After 15 minutes, Bakugou steps out and grabs himself two towels, One He wraps around his waist, and the other, he uses to dry off his hair.

When he looks into the mirror, the first thing he notices is his slightly swollen, red eyes. He notices how pale he is, and the insecurities keep on piling up.

"Damn it, i look like shit!" he shouts, and lifting his fist to punch the mirror.

The sound of the glass shattering against his knuckles echoes throughout the room, glass colliding  with the sink and floor, as it falls.

It takes him a moment to collect himself; He pulls away his bloody hand, and begins to step past the bits of glass surrounding him.

           He grabs a pair of boxer shorts he left on his dresser, and quickly slides into them. He slips on a white tank top over his chest, before grabbing the small broom he kept in his closet.

He doesn't always remember to cover the scars on his arms, but nobody is with him at the moment, and they've faded enough he isn't too worried about anyone noticing.

Just as he finishes sweeping, there's a quiet knock on the door..

this is my first story, hope u guys enjoy it : )