Drown in my ocean of black box dye

Chapter 2

TW: NON-GRAPHIC REFERENCE TO SELF HARM

Reason #26 to Live: Someone spray-painted "Red Riot" on one of the walls downtown. It's crazy anyone would want to put my name on something.

***

Kirishima stood outside, surprised by how warm it was. His shirt, a new addition to his hero costume, really had done its job of keeping the cold out. One of the support kids had made it for him out a kevlar; tearing would be minimal.

The day was nice, birds chipping the trees above the training ground. He felt calm here, surrounded by nature instead of people. Sure, in a few minutes, he would have to spar with someone, but it didn't really bother him. Kirishima knew he couldn't pick the usual four he'd go with, which was fine. There were plenty of others he could choose from.

Like they'd want to fight with someone so weak.

Kirishima's shoulders dropped at the voice in his head's presence. Of course, the bastard couldn't let him have one good moment.

Well, I am you. So really, you just hate yourself.

Shut up, Kirishima thought, his mood significantly souring. He had been - mostly - fine this morning. He had put his fist through his mirror last night, and honestly, the absence of his reflection felt good.

There was a lot of broken glass he would have to clean up, but it was better than having to look at himself.

Plus, he'd gotten himself to eat food, which had also been a struggle for the past few days. His depression had kept him tied to the bed every second he wasn't in school. However, he'd managed to get out of bed this morning to get some cereal in him, and he was proud.

Proud? You did something every person alive does. How pathetic.

"Okay class," Aizawa deadpanned, and Kirishima took comfort in the distraction, "it's your third year here so you should know the drill. I'm not going to baby you."

He walked away, undeniably going somewhere to nap. Kirishima smiled fondly; it was good to see the little things hadn't changed.

Looking around for a partner, Kirishima surveyed the area. Tokoyami was with Shoji, and Koda and Sato had already split off. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, he refused to look at his old friends. He certainly wasn't going to ask Bakugou.

Unable to stop himself, he looked at the blonde.

He was stalking towards him, red eyes glued onto Kirishima's frame. Panicking, Kirishima looked around desperately for an escape. Did literally everyone else have a partner?

"Kirishima!" He heard a bubbly voice from behind him, and he turned back to his savior. Ochako was bouncing towards him, "Let's be partners!"

Sighing thankfully, he nodded, "For sure!" She waved him over, linking an arm around his bicep when he got close.

"You finally put on a shirt!" Ochako laughed and smiled brightly.

Kirishima knew people would comment on the change, but it still threw him for a loop. He'd added the shirt because he couldn't stand to look at his body anymore. Reflecting on it now, it was stupid for him to assume anyone had wanted to see him. There wasn't much to look at. Just an ugly boy with an ugly body.

"What? Miss the six-pack?" He said, smirking.

Ochako gasped overdramatically, "No! Of course not! I only want to look at my boyfriend's abs, Kirishima."

The never-ending feeling of loneliness sunk its needles into Kirishima's mouth, sewing it shut. He felt the churn of breakfast in his stomach, face pailing. Fingers vibrated with emotional exhaustion.