Kirishima Eijirou × Bakugou Katsuki (KiriBaku. BakuShima) Oneshots/Smut

Cut (Angst)

Warning!
Mentions of SH/Self Harm

This is pretty much a vent but putting myself and my thoughts in Katsuki's point of view since I kin him or whatever idk

...

It was...what? 5 pm?

He doesn't remember getting up.

At all.

He didn't remember walking down the hallway toward the boy's dorm bathroom.

He doesn't even fucking remember getting up from his bed.

One moment he's jamming out to music and scrolling through old pictures and then suddenly...he finds himself in the bathroom, staring down at his wrist. 

It's scary, really.

So scary that when he grabbed his razor and pressed the blades down on his skin, it didn't hurt. 

So scary that when he dragged the blades against his skin, all he could do is watch red lines form. 

Katsuki peeled the blade off of his skin and looked at his wrist, watching the red lines deepen, blood seeping out through the cracks. He looked back at the razor. "Huh," he blurted out. It didn't hurt. Was it supposed to hurt?

He pressed the blade back on his skin, drawing another couple of lines.

There was a little more blood than he thought.

The cuts weren't deep enough to scar-- not like he gave a shit at the moment, but he knew he would in the future. 

Three lines turned into six. Then nine. And then twelve. 

There was nothing going through his head. He looked up at the mirror, staring at himself.

He wasn't crying. He wasn't mad.

He looked...rather numb. 

He stared and stared, looking himself up and down. Looked at his tanktop to his sweats, and finally...to his wrist, which was now leaking blood down to his elbow. 

Alright...

Now...

How is he going to get this cleaned up?

Oh shit.

How the hell is he going to get this cleaned up?

Katsuki felt his heart start to beat rapidly. 

"Shittyhair?" He called out. Eijirou's room was down the hall-- he wouldn't hear him, so why is he calling for him?

"Kirishima?"

There was silence, except for the shuffling of people's feet down the halls and the small conversations he could barely make out. 

"Ejirou!" 

Ok. Maybe that was a little loud. Why was he even calling for him? Did he think he'd be able to do shit about this? Help him clean it up? He didn't fucking know. 

And he couldn't figure out why it...felt so wrong to call him.

The bathroom door opened and there was the redhead, peeking his head in with a confused look on his face. He was wearing his white headband, his hair covering some of his eyes but he puffed the hair out and looked around a bit.

"Bakugou? Hey, man, are you calling me from in here?" He asked.

"Yeah." Katsuki said, his back suddenly turning toward his best friend. He let out a deep breath. A heavy breath. "I did something bad."

He listened to the door close. "Bad like what?"

"Really bad."

"Bakugou, what...did you do?"

Katsuki slowly turned around and showed off his wrist. He hadn't even realized he started to cry until he was gasping for air and backing away from Eijirou. 

There was panic in his body. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't be breathe? Shit. Was he over reacting?

"Fuck!" He shouted out and quickly tried to scoop the seething blood from his elbow to his wrist as if the blood would go back inside.

He fucked up. Oh he fucked up.

Eijirou quickly shuffled over and pulled Katsuki toward the sink silently. There was no emotion on his face either. He looked rather calm. Why was he so calm?

The sink turned on and cold water washed over the blondes wrist— the red was slowly disappearing.

"Keep it there, Kat," He said, eyes glued and stuck on the pink water going down the drain.

"I'm sorry..."

//I didn't know how to end this so there.//