Bungo Stray Dogs Oneshots

Mark Twain- What Goes Around Comes Around

Warnings: Self- Harm, Angst, Regret, Suicide, (M/N) was a bully 

Pronouns- Both-(He/Him)

Gifts- Twain- Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer, (M/N)- All is For Thy- The ability to shapeshift into any type of living creature, excluding plants. Gain the ability of each person. For example if he shapeshifts into Kyouka, he would gain her ability, still having his own. Downside- can only be used for an hour max.

Third Person POV: 

"Why would you do that?" (M/N)'s classmate screamed, crying because everyone hated him. 

"Because. You deserve it. Why do you get to go around acting like you're better than everyone huh?" (M/N) snarled and pushed the boy, Mark Twain to the floor.

"I don't. Now everyone hates me, you asshole!" 

"Good." (M/N)'s words are as sharp as knives. 

This was the start of a nasty hatred that lasted way later in life. They both ended up joining the guild because they had abilities. And to be honest, they didn't have much of a choice. Abilities weren't common in America, very unlikely actually, but if you did, you were practically sent there.

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"Hey Lucy how are you!" (M/N) walked up to Lucy, happy and relaxed. 

"Hey. I'm fine." She answered coldly, turning away from him. 

"Okay.. I'll see you later then?" he chuckled awkwardly, confused by her tone, which was usually perky and chipper around him. They were best friends or so he thought. 

"Yep." She answered, not even looking at (M/N).

(M/N) clicked his teeth and disappeared, walking through the Moby Dick, alone for once. He spent  his days with Lucy or Louisa, but Lucy was off and he hadn't seen her. 

His eyes wandered into each room until he found Louisa and Fitzgerald talking to each other. He decided against entering the room, heading towards Poe's room. (M/N) always had a unique connection with Poe, like cousins in a way. 

"Hey Poe!" He smiled, expecting a response. He frowned in confusion, tilting his head slightly when Poe didn't respond, but instead kept writing.

"...Poe?" He said, his voice shaking a lightly.

(M/N) sighed in defeat and turned around.

"I'm sorry for whatever I did by the way."

He couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Everyone was ignoring him and he had no clue why which made him upset.

His eyes and chest felt tight as he headed into an empty room. He went over possibilities, coming up with Mark Twain as an answer.

Shit! He told everyone what I did in the past...

The shapeshifter sunk down in the corner and grabbed scissors off the empty desk.  He hadn't done this in years. The old scars on his stomach were still there. Waves of guilt took control of him as he sliced open his skin in smooth and straight lines across his torso. He winced after every cut, enjoying the pain.

He cut and cut just to remind him he was alive. His ability took control of him. He cut to remember who he was. Pain was his main image. Suffering. Death. Any way you wanna look at it, I suppose. Yet, it never failed to bring him back to reality after shifting. 

He found himself cutting with dirty scissors that would probably get an infection,  but he didn't care. He deserved it for bullying Twain for as long as he did.