scars can fade [bakudeku]

chapter 4 - broken or scarred

'It isn't that you didn't reach for them. It's just that it was too hard to see your hand in the blackness.'

- Jennifer Betts

***

Izuku's staring again. Staring at the blonde seated in front of him. Why he's staring? He has no idea. Wherever he moves his view to, he ends up looking at the exact same person.
Mr. Aizawa just left the classroom, Izuku isn't sure where he went, he didn't listen to the whole conversation, but it seemed urgent. Well, it's not like he cares that much about him leaving, he couldn't focus on what he was saying in the first place. It felt like everyone was staring at him, maybe they've noticed that he hasn't been eating, maybe they've seen the scars on his arms, maybe they've finally seen how bad he actually looks. Or maybe it's just all in his head. Again.

His day has been going shitty, he's puked multiple times already, on the toilet luckily, so no one has noticed. He's had a headache all day long and he's constantly dizzy. And on top of that, he's been trying to prevent having another panic attack. He doesn't want everyone in the classroom looking at him and pretending that they care. If they really cared, then they wouldn't neglect him the moment he seems to be doing fine. Because this feeling he has right now is more shitty than the feeling he had in middle school, at least no one pretended back then. It might be weird, but he wishes he could go back to middle school. He might've been quirkless back then. He might've felt like a broken, worthless nobody every second of the day. But at least he knew everyone felt the same about him. He was broken back then, but he's scarred right now. And scars don't ever disappear. They can fade, sure, but they'll never fully heal. And being scarred is more painful than being broken.

He gets pulled back to reality, sort of, when he feels no air filling his lungs again. He isn't sure why, he isn't sure what caused it this time, but keeping his head clear is harder than ever. He can't stabilise his breathing and the oxygen in the room seems to have vanished completely. He can feel myself gasping for air, in- and exhaling at least three times per second. His hands move to his throat, as if that would help. Of course it doesn't. He stands up, he needs to get out of here before everyone starts staring at him again. Before they all start pretending again.
While walking towards the door, he gets another dizzy spell and falls down. The last bit of air in his lungs have left him completely at this point and he knows it won't be long before he blacks out. Damn it. He can't black out, they'll bring him to Recovery Girl and when she starts treating him and notices the scars on his arms everything will fall apart.

He can see the blurs of his classmates running towards him, trying to help him, pretending to care about him. Iida tries to push everyone apart and keep order while trying to help him, probably. He doesn't really know what they're saying, but it seems to be chaos. Another person enters his vision, he joins their conversation by shouting something that seems to get everyone's attention, then he turns to Izuku. The anxious feeling in his stomach gets worse, why does it always have to be Kacchan who's around when he's having a panic attack, he doesn't want him to be reminded of middle school and what he did back then. He'd rather have both of them forget about that. He'd rather have them go back to what they were before. Before Kacchan had his quirk, before Izuku discovered he was quirkless, before everything started going downhill, back to when they were friends. He'd love to experience that one last time before he dies.

"Don't you dare pass out on me, stupid nerd!" Kacchan's voice echoes clearly through Izuku's head and he manages to focus on what's happening in front of him again. "You idiot. Just fucking breathe like you do every day. Remember Monday? You managed to do it easily too back then, so do it again, damn it!" Izuku has no idea why Kacchan's voice is so clear now, but he tries not to question it too much as he tries breathing like he did on Monday. He knows he did it before. He did it a million times before, but it's not that fucking easy. It's like telling someone with broken legs to 'just walk', it's hardly possible.
"Do as I do. Breathe in, hold it, then breathe out. It's as easy as that. Follow my lead." Kacchan's voice again, his voice is the only voice he's hearing, and it's the first time it's easy for Izuku to focus on him and him alone. Kacchan inhales, so does Izuku. A few seconds later he exhales and he do the exact same thing. It doesn't change the fact that he can't feel air in his lungs, but he just has to trust that it is there. He's not blacking out after all. He breathes in again, just like Kacchan. Then exhales, following his lead.

After a while, reality comes back to him and he manages to breathe without any help again. Kacchan's face, which isn't a blur anymore, changes from worried to annoyed real quick and he makes his way back to his seat, not even looking at Izuku once. Izuku stands up on his own, passes his classmates while exiting the classroom, he can't bear staying in that room longer, everyone will just stare at him again.

"Where are you going?" Uraraka asks, Izuku tells her he's going back to his dorm.
"You sure you don't need someone to come with you?" Kirishima asks, Izuku shakes his head.
"I'll be fine." He manages to put on a believable fake smile, then makes his way back to his dorm.

After locking his room, he enters his bathroom, then searches for his razor. He unwraps his bandages and immediately starts doing the only thing that keeps proving him that he hasn't fully died yet.
One cut for having another panic attack.
One cut for drawing a lot of attention.
One cut for worrying everyone.
One cut for interrupting everyone.
One cut for not being able to take care of himself.
One cut for— one cut for reminding Kacchan of what happened in middle school.
One cut for Kacchan, in general. For interrupting him, for worrying him, for annoying him, for being the same worthless nobody he was in middle school, unable to take care of himself, always needing someone to come and save him. He doesn't want to be saved, not anymore. It's pointless. He'll be gone in two weeks, it doesn't matter anymore.
Another cut. And another one. And another one. Cut after cut after cut. A lot of new future scars forming on his arms, blood dripping on the bathroom counter as well as the floor. It hurts so bad, it is supposed to hurt so bad, but his arms are numb to the pain. He hardly feels it, he needs to feel something. He needs to know that he hasn't died yet.
Another cut. He's feeling more dizzy than before, he knows he's made too much cuts already. If he blacks out now, he'll bleed out and die two weeks too early. He tries grabbing his bandages, but it slips out of his hands and falls onto the ground. He kneels down to pick it up again. He starts wrapping his still bleeding arms while fighting the fact that he'll lose consciousness soon. The bandages are immediately soaked with red fluid, but he hopes it will be enough to stop the bleeding. He keeps wrapping more bandages around his arms, desperately hoping it will be enough.
Then everything goes black.