Drown in my ocean of black box dye

Chapter 1

Reason #34 to Live: Today, a little girl in line at the restaurant I stopped at pointed at me, then held up her shark toy. She had a huge smile on her face with all these cute gaps.

Maybe the teeth aren't so bad.

***

Kirishima Eijirou was not perfect.

Sometimes he wore the same shirt two days in a row, forgot to brush his teeth in the morning, or didn't leave the door open for old ladies trying to get groceries.

Once, when he was fifteen, he threw a water bottle off the top of a bridge above the freeway. It had hit a car windshield, splattering so violently that the driver couldn't see. The red Camaro - yes, Kirishima remembered the exact car - swerved and rear-ended a truck in the passing lane. He hadn't told anyone about the incident, choosing to keep the extremely bad decision to himself.

Kirishima Eijirou made a lot of mistakes; he was willing to admit that.

Oh, yeah.

Then, there was that time he slit his wrists in his bathtub.

It had been earlier that summer when he'd sunk so low he saw no other escape. Yes, it hadn't been his brightest moment, perhaps one of the dumber things he'd done.

Kirishima didn't know how to tell people that, at the time, that did feel like the right decision. That all the life he had been living was better being swept down the drain than wasted on him. He was fine dying next to the shampoo bottles and last standing rubber ducky from his childhood.

When he tried to express the feeling - the all-consuming black sludge that dragged him down to the depths of hell - it always came out as whining over his shitty friends, internship, or self-worth issues.

Kirishima sunk back into the far too plush couch, eyes on his punishment from the summer's events.

"Kirishima," his therapist, Ito, said. He leaned forward in his seat, "What are you thinking about?"

"UA mostly," Kirishima grumbled, uninterested in talking further. The school had required him to take on therapy after the 'incident', telling him he'd be expelled if he didn't comply.

At first, he thought about telling them to suck his dick, but he realized that he was in far too deep to just give up now.

Plus, that meant staying with his parents instead of at the dorms. He couldn't handle staring at the locked knife drawer anymore.

Ito nodded, "That makes sense. Are you excited to see your friends?"

"Friends," Kirishima scoffed, digging his heel into the carpet, "I don't really have those."

That had been true since Mina had confessed her feelings at the end of their second year, under the dead cherry blossoms. He had politely declined, but it didn't matter. Mina took Sero and Denki like they were a set of dogs in the middle of a divorce.

As for Bakugou?

Kirishima had spent the first two weeks of summer trying to get a response. He tried again after he got out of the hospital, going so far as to call his parents.

There was a very uncomfortable voicemail on his phone to prove it.

He didn't know what he had done, but it was clear Bakugou Katsuki wanted nothing to do with him. It was inevitable; he and Midoriya had repaired their long-broken relationship.

What was the point in keeping Kirishima around if he had Izuku?

He was reminded of the fact that Ito and his parents were the only people he'd spoken to in months. It made him feel like shit. Wiping at his eyes, he stood up, "I don't want to be here anymore."