Flawless

conversations and miscommunications ✅

When Katsuki wakes up on Tuesday morning, the sun is filtering through the blinds, and the sound of the alarm rings beside him from his phone.

5:55 a.m.

He sits up slowly, wincing when the injuries on his arms brush up against the bandages loosely wrapped around them.

It would've been a perfect morning if he could just forget, god does he want to forget last night, wishes that he could, but the ache in his body reminds him of all that happened.

He unlocks his phone, and sees a message from Eijirou.

Shitty hair:What time should i come over??

Katsuki falters a bit, the events of last night and his interaction with Eijirou flashes through his mind.

King explosion murder: Later.

King explosion murder: At 8.

With that done, he shuts off his phone and grabs his school uniform and heads into the bathroom.

The bathroom isn't clean, but it isn't an absolute mess either. As Katsuki is cleaning his eyes flash over the counter, getting stuck on the razor blade thats on the edge near the sink.

The itch in his arms is there, and a small buzz in his head that tells him he needs to hurt himself, that he deserves it.

It's only fair, maybe then you'd have an idea of what it was exactly that izuku felt in middle school.

There's a pang in his chest at that, the reminder of what he did burrows back in his head. Maybe agreeing to talk to Eijirou last night was a bad idea, maybe everything he's ever done in life has just been one wrong choice.

You've made a lot of those recently

Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, sitting down on the closed toilet seat, and rests his head in his hands.

It's not like anyone would care, and it isn't hurting anyone

Katsuki brings himself to look back at the blade sitting there, the itch in his arms growing.

He slowly reaches over, the chill touch of the material causing him to shiver slightly.

This is the final time.

That's what you said last time

-

The bandages on his arms aren't as bothersome as they were before; Still slightly itchy, but tighter around his forearms than before.

He trudges into class, not saying anything when he walks over to his seat and sits down. The lingering feeling of glares and whispers on him making his skin itch, again.

Just a few minutes before class starts, he feels a tap on his shoulder and looks back. Izuku is looking right at him, nothing but worry in his eyes.

"Kacchan, here." He whispers, handing the blond a small, folded up paper in his palm.

Katsuki doesn't do anything but nod and turn back to face the front of the class.