*Kirishima pov*

When I was in middle school, I began to cut. I made one cut...and then another...and well...another...and so on, I got addicted. I loved the way the razor blade tore into my skin, how a tiny amount of blood trickled down the sides of my arms and thighs. I loved the jolting pain it sent spreading where I had cut. And I just kept doing it, it's not like I was doing any harm. I made sure not to cut too deep. I took a little time between each time I cut. I made sure no one would find out. I constantly wore long sleeves, kept it hidden. I mean as long as nobody notices then no harm, no foul...right?

"You okay?"

"doing great, Bakubro!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah? Why what's up?

"Nothing, you damn shitty hair!"

*Bakugo pov*

Day by day, his fake smile gets weaker. He gets weaker. He tries to be all happy and smiley, he pretends to be okay and he-...everyone believes it. I mean there is no reason for them not to. He smiles, laughs, and is constantly happy. He is always there for everyone. Am I the only one who sees the pain in his eyes. He's says he's fine yet his entire body screams "save me."

(should i continuerthis oneshot)