Such ecstasy.

The feeling of sharp metal gliding through is skin, drawing out the sweet red liquid. The way it stained his floors. The way it cooled his heated body. Grounding him to the earth and breaking his head out of his dreams.

The crimson trickled to his hands as he dragged them through his almost completely white hair. The silken smooth strands dirtying themselves with his blood.

His body moved on autopilot, cleaning the wounds as not to anger his father about blood around the house.

5:17

Two hours before he would make his way to school.

He reached under creaking and rotting floorboards till his scarred fingers grazed a small box.

With shaky, clenched hands, he dragged out the lighter and grabbed one of the cancer sticks, bringing it gingerly up to his bloodied and scarred lips.

As the cigarette was lit, he inhaled the familiar feeling of smoke and nicotine. It courses through his veins and brought him back to reality.

Such a melancholy day.

Grey clouds filled the sky to every inch that he could see.

Rain already gently tapped at the boys window, a subtle noise that only those who want to hear it will.

His hands fidgeted, body restless for something, anything to happen.

"Why am I still even here?"

---

"Get the hell out of my way!"

Suddenly he was falling backwards down the stairs. He barely even registered the pain as he hit each of the steps and slammed into a wall.

People were laughing around him.

"Sorry. . ." He muttered.

Blood trickled down his face. His left wrist buzzed in a strange pain.

He made it to his homeroom just before the bell rang. Of course he got in trouble anyway.

Snickers sounded throughout the room as the teacher began a monotonous routine for the day.

A fly buzzed past his ear.

The florescent lights flickered and hummed.

Dirt stained the desks and floors.

He couldn't stand it. His leg began tapping. He undid the fronts of his bandages, and began picking at the scabbing over skin.

The blood fell downward and etched itself into the carved out words on his desk. The depictions of his death became more realistic as his own blood dripped towards them.

Green eyes stayed trained on the board ahead.

"Get out your notebooks and write this down." The teacher glanced back, noticing the blood slowly pooling in the boys desk, but said nothing.

"Such an unfortunate day. As long as the brat's writing down his notes. . ." The teacher kept her thought to herself.

---

The lunch bell rang, and the white haired boy stared at the dried blood that stained his desk.

A fist connected to the side of his head when the teacher left the room.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, freak!?" The voice above him shouted. The male only received a blank look in return.

It unnerved him.

"Do something!" He kicked the boys side and demanded he do something, like he was a circus animal not doing it's part.

With his "condition" he could probably try to join a freak show, but even they might not allow him near.

"You fucking mutt! Why don't you bark for us, hah?" It was command rather than an answer. An obedient little dog is what they saw him as. Following their every command. It's not like he could do much to stop them.

Their voices were slightly muffled in his ears.

It made him wonder where his main tormenter was.

Halfway through lunch, the blonde walked in.

"Tch, this is why you extras called me in here? For shitty Deku?" The red eyed male's palms sparked in small explosions as he slowly grabbed onto he bloodied boy's hair.

The heat seared the flesh by his scarred ears, charing the area around and making his ears ring.

"Bakugou, please just leave me alone." His voice was quiet and shaky.

Sometimes Bakugou regretted that he had ever started bullying the white haired boy.

It made him feel like a monster.

Then he remembered how much he was praised and appreciated because he filled in with what everyone else was doing when the small boy was pronounced quirkless.

His ego was something else.

"Tch, your a waste of my fucking time." With that the blonde walked off, his group of lackeys following closely behind him.

The white haired boy lay there on the ground, blood drying to his skin and making it itch.

"I'm sorry. . ."

---

He wished to drift away into his own world of clouds.

As the class around him laughed hysterically, he wanted nothing more than to float off into the void of his own mind.

"You really think you can be a hero!?"

"Quirkless Midoriya?! No fucking way!"

"You'll die in the entrance exam you freak!"

Midoriya sat there, trying to block out the muffled voices that screeched and hollered their insults at him.

"Deku."

Suddenly his desks was hit with an explosion and he was knocked to the ground.

He looked up in a tired daze, meeting ruby red eyes.

Bakugou flinched.

Those eyes were so devoid of everything.

They used to shine like emeralds in clear sea water.

He knew it was his fault.

"You trying to stand on the same level as me, Deku?!"

His palms smoked.

The teacher did nothing.

"Get it through that thick fucking skull of yours! You'll never be a hero!"

That was his way of ending the conversation.

Midoriya sat back at his desk. It was charred black now.

"Sorry, Bakugou. . ."

---

The white haired boy tried to pack up and leave in peace. He really did.

Bakugou had other plans.

"Hey Deku, I wasn't sure if I made myself clear earlier, so here's a fair warning."

A searing hot palm was placed on his shoulder.

"Don't even think of applying to UA."

Bakugou went to step out of the room with two lackeys following behind, but one of them uttered words that even he'd never say. (coughs in canon anime).

"Why don't you pray for a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of a building."

". . ."

"Such a cruel world we live in."

---

ɪᴢᴜᴋᴜ ᴍɪᴅᴏʀɪʏᴀ, ᴡᴀs ǫᴜɪʀᴋʟᴇss.

ᴡᴀs.