warning: content in here will vary drastically. storylines can range from mild to triggering. viewer discretion is advised
｡ : ° ஐ | | ｡ : ° ஐ
this is a one-shot after all.
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i'm in love with the weeknd's music ﾟ˚✧₊⁎( 𝒂v𝒐i𝒅 𝒕h𝒆 𝒂l𝒊e𝒏 )˚✧₊⁎ ｡
𝓦𝓱𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓵𝓮. Whistle. Meow. Whistle. Meow. Meow. Katsuki couldn't stop it, and it was starting to annoy him. Repressing his tics only made it worst. His head unexpectedly swiveled to the side as another whistle left his brims.
"Damnit..." A meow. "Why can't it stop—FUCK!" Enclosing his mouth, Katsuki fist jerked and crashed into the keyboard he was attempting to type his essay on.
Groaning in pain, he clasped his wrist. Whistle. Whistle. His Tourette's was something he was beyond ashamed of. His parents constantly make it seem like that he was "unique" or "special."
He knew otherwise.
Katsuki had only cut a few times on his arms. Unfortunately, never trying it again when his tics kept shifting the blade around. His thighs were demolished because of them.
The rattle utensils hitting the plates snatched the silence of the room away. As Masaru and Mitsuki conversed with each other, they looked over at Katsuki once his fist started to punch the table.
Once it stopped, Katsuki clutched his wrist again. Whistles and meowing coming out of him. With a disgusted frown, he glimpsed back at his parents. "Sor—FUCK. Sorry."
Mitsuki's lips divided in concern. "Sweetie, why are you apologizing? There's nothing to apologize for, you have no control over it."
Masaru and Mitsuki eyed one another. Discovering that their son was ashamed of having a nervous system disorder was new. Katsuki had never really cared about anyone's judgment on his Tourette's.
Until he went to high school.
"Katsuki," Mitsuki started. "Are you getting made fun of at school? Why are you so ashamed of having Tourette's? There's nothing wrong with it."
Katsuki didn't speak back for a bit. "No, no one's," Whistle, whistle. "Bullying me."
Mitsuki and Masaru didn't believe anything that Katsuki was explaining. His unusual behavior, his strangely quiet attitude, how humiliated he was of his disorder. There had to be something.
