If I Had One Wish

Chapter Sixty Three

Chapter Sixty Three - Shock 

So tell me little wolf,

do you want to

punish

those who have

wronged you?

Marie Lu

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The room was dark, lit only by the adjacent bathroom door cracked open two centimeters, covers strewn across the bed like one in a hurry. On the mattress lay a phone, brightness high enough to cast beams across the ceiling, writing a disorienting scribble on the surface in the form of an article.

As cars passed past the house, causing a wet swish of tires on pavement, the windows kaleidoscoped their headlights across the carpeted floors in hues of yellow and red, the clock downstairs in the kitchen clicked faintly, a repeating tic, tic, tic as the seconds passed. Scattered across the floor was glass, water seeping a damp hole on the ground, faint footsteps leading to the bathroom in a staggering, drunken line.

Through the quiet, lonesome haze there was a gagging cough inside the bathroom.

"Shh, let it out. Don't hold it back, Kacchan, stop that." A calm voice murmured, tired early morning deepness to it as fingers scarred in the joints brushed back golden hair gone nearly white beneath fluorescents into a makeshift ponytail in the expanse of his palm. A hand held back his hair, pushing the longer parts, the bangs, from his sweaty forehead. "Get it out."

Katsuki gripped the basin of the toilet bowl, kneeling against the black marble tile, goosebumps rising along exposed flesh. Saliva gathering, the rancid smell causing his nose to scrunch he heaved, throat constricting and gasping for air. He couldn't feel his hands as they shook tingling at the fingertips like static over a TV, nothing but muffled white noise ringing through his ears. The warm hand at his back, rubbing up and down, then oftentimes in a circle around his shoulder blades, urging him that it was okay.

And he was crying.

He hated crying, as if it weren't disgusting enough one had to feel their emotions but soon after have it displayed on their face in an embarrassing manner. He didn't care how poetic one put it, the souls way of bleeding, the hearts way of mourning, a cleanse to one's emotions. He hated it, how it messily ran down his cheeks in a hot mess that cooled against feverish skin. Made his nose run, adding more of a mess to himself as if the mess internally had to match that externally.

When he had panic attacks, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He subconsciously held his breath, stuck taking tiny breaths as his mind raced like a bird slamming back and forth inside the jello of one's brain. Sunflower wings, pink matter, pecking at the grooves and causing him disorientation. His limbs felt like pure static energy, vision scribbled in white out, blank and ears still ringing as if he'd used a large explosion during battle.

When he couldn't breathe, his stomach churned, heart speeding up before the sickness swirling in the base of his stomach had him hurtling towards the nearest basin. Staggering. Stumbling. Nearly falling.

"Katsuki." Izuku firmly tugged him out of his spiral with his voice. He had woken up to the sound of glass shattering in a thud over a soft surface, then footsteps sliding off and a body slamming into a door. Having glanced at the phone, he didn't need all but a minute to skim it with bleary eyes to get the gist before joining him. He kneeled beside him without hesitation, holding his head up, holding him up altogether. "Breathe, shh, it's okay. It's okay, breathe for me." He quieted his rough, ragged pants worn from lack of air and continuous bile being pushed up through his system.