Aesthete

Chapter 17.

A/N: A very important trigger warning: self-harm, depression, sexual and physical abuse. This chapter basically goes in depth with her backstory and the strain it puts on her relationship with trying to grow into a person who's beyond her childhood.

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Several hours had passed since my mother's call. I hadn't spoken a word to anyone, only sparing glances and nods every so often. I wasn't giving much recognition to my feelings or thoughts, I was only aware that the development I felt since I started attending U.A had crumbled like a tower made of uncompressed powder, creating a dust full of wreckage that I couldn't exhibit in enough words.

Aizawa had tried to get me to converse with him multiple times, but none of his attempts were successful. I would only stare blankly at my hands as I tried to digest his sentences with the sensory overload of the external environment.

"Kid, you need to eat." Aizawa pressed my glass plate filled with salmon towards me, the gesture was soft but his intention was hardened. I shrugged, picking up my fork and shamefully poking at it, I couldn't force my appetite.

He sighed, saying nothing as he ate. He apologized multiple times, offering any sort of solution to what had happened. Shota insisted on paying any amount if it meant I could attend the release of my grandfather's ashes, but I knew the QAP would do everything in their power to make sure I remained focused on becoming a hero. It was useless; if my own mother couldn't convince the stoic, heartless organization that dealt a heavy hand in the government, then Shota's persuasion would prove to no avail.

We attempted to wrap up dinner gracefully, as I nodded to his goodnight, and stumbled up the stairs, collapsing into my bed that welcomed me with sunken but warm arms. I stared out at the moon, forcing my vision to notice every crevice and crater, sighing when it didn't alleviate the disaster that ruled my mind and heart.

I haven't cried. My soul felt like it shattered into a million pieces, but there were no tears to solidify my feelings, to force me to deal with the brute reality of the situation. I hadn't sincerely cried in years and I was only inquisitive to what would happen if I let such pain fester inside for the rest of my life.

Eventually, I stayed cognizant to the land between reality and dreams, vividly taking in my surroundings but also hearing the quiet hum of my mind, it was oddly silent. The voice in my head made no particularly daring moves since my phone rung in the morning.

Morning came and I finally had some strength to mutter a sentence to Aizawa at the table. I don't think I could control myself if any of my closest friends tried to talk to me today, I had already taken to ignoring their calls and texts since the day before yesterday; I just couldn't bring myself to formulate a response without dissolving into a formless shell of who I was.

"Can I stay home just for today?" I asked quietly, meeting his gaze momentarily. He blinked, taken aback by my words before responding. "Take as much time as you need." He ruffled my hair before squeezing my frame, drawing out a sad sigh. I didn't look away from my uneaten plate as he exited the door, closing it with a soft thud.

Am I even allowed to feel sad? I don't deserve to, I'm a horrible person for not going to his ceremony. My face contorted in pain, grief slithering to the frontal lobe of my mind and coaxing me to give her the reigns.

I lurched myself out of the table, stomping up the stairs to shower quickly. I didn't think anything else as I brushed my hair, my teeth, and put on loose sweatpants with a sweatshirt. I tied my hair back into a low bun, pulling the hoodie over my head. The days were already blending into early June, but I didn't have the bravery to care about my appearance, I only dressed according to the reflection I felt. Slipping on shoes and grabbing my phone, I left my house, walking aimlessly around the city of Musutafu.