Too Deep Too Late (Suicidal Izuku Midoriya)

Revelations to your enemy

Shigaraki's open palm hovered over Midoriya's chest, near his heart. The green haired boy held on to Tomura's wrist just as stubbornly as the villain had his arm earlier. Even as Shigaraki struggled, trying to twist and turn and pull, he could not get his arm back. Midoriya's sudden resignation to his fate was at best very alarming, setting off every bright red beeping light inside Shigaraki's head. They screamed bloody murder at him, and he hated it more than he ever did Izuku Midoriya. He desperately needed to press a pause button. 

He was suddenly missing the thrill of killing, the urge having disappeared completely. He felt that if he did decide to end the kid's life now, would his bloodthirst not be fully satisfied.

At some point in their back-and-forth tugging, Izuku's sleeve slid down just enough for the older boy to see skin. Tomura's mind didn't register it at first, just making a note, "oh hey, his sleeve moved". 

But when his busy mind caught up to the information pouring through his eyes, he audibly gasped, and oh boy wasn't that embarrassing. 

For a few blissful seconds all was still. 

Izuku followed his red gaze confused but when it met his wrist, he knew there was no use in trying to hide it. He felt exposed to the bone, like all of his secrets were out.

Midoriya's hand was slim, his knuckles were dusted pink but other than that the skin was milky white. There were the odd healed scar from training and from the villain attacks he had participated in, but that is not why Shigaraki had stopped moving. Those scars were healed, faded, the villain himself had seen them form over time, they were noticeably older. 

Much older that the new, red, slobby ones that littered the student's tiny hand. They clearly went up, or so he believed, from thin to much thicker, and from the way some of them curved and ended the villain could tell they were made fast, not using sharp enough tools. They were in layers, bottom ones already starting to heal, but still red, and a new fresh layer overlapping and reopening the old ones. Some even seemed like scratches. He knew what scars on wrists meant but he couldn't understand.

Tomura went through a myriad of emotions. His first reaction was to start laughing, though he quickly stopped that from happening. Yet he still wanted to, wanted to laugh out loud and so hard he would double over in pain. What reason would a shining young hero have to cause himself pain like that? The image of the hero student hurting himself in a dark corner like an angsty teen was hilarious. 

Then the amusement faded into something darker and sicklier, questions turning to demands in his head. Envy, green and sticky, wrapped around his rapidly beating heart and squeezed his throat. "How dare he", Tomura bitterly thinks, "I would have died for a quirk like that, I would have given everything to have his life!". This boy had the perfect existence and yet, had the nerve to complain! But all his life Shigaraki had been quick to judge.

He used this moment of calm to yank his hand free and firmly wrap his fingers around Izuku's. They dragged the whole arm upwards, enough for the dust villain to fully see the damage done when the sleeve was pulled down. He studied them, concluding that yes, he was right about them going up, just above the elbow actually.

" Ha, what is this?" To his own ears instead of demanding, Shigaraki sounded much too unsure.

The voice talking to him was distant, Izuku wasn't sure who spoke. Was it even Shigaraki? Had somebody found them? Or was there a voice inside his own head? It almost felt like he was standing in a long and dark hallway, seeing the villain at the end of it, but so far away that it was impossible to hear him. Midoriya wanted to ask him to speak louder, to come closer, but could not find the words.