A/N: I guess this is thanks for the warm welcome to your server? Akko-centric angst? @blee-bleep I saw one of your posts, haha.
Wait… doesn’t Akko get bullied in canon?
Also, to everyone else in the server who sees this, I don’t quite know your preferences for a fic, but hmu some time haha
Sorry for feeding you some subpar writing owo
Enjoy?
~Shintori Khazumi
[I hate you.]
You mentally say to the girl in the mirror. Her hair is tussled, deep brown stained with the same bitter red on her fresh white shirt.
[I hate you.]
You tell the short teen, bags under her eyes, maybe from the lack of sleep. She looks pale, ugly. So ugly.
[I hate you.]
She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days, even though she binged full tubs of ice-cream, and stuffed a few cakes in barely three hours ago. All of them had gone to waste anyway. Trash bins, toilets, sometimes the woods. Perfect for throwing away stuff you don’t need. Or well… throwing up stuff you don’t need. In your body.
[I hate you.]
Through the reflective material allows her glimpses of stacks of papers marred red with E’s and F’s, and some barely passing grades, and that single A from language class.
At least professor Pisces seemed to appreciate her, that girl. Someone had to. Because you hated the girl in the mirror.
What a fool, what an idiot. How stupid, how dumb.
[I hate you.]
Her and her slow mind, incapable of comprehending the simplest things, disabled from casting the most basic magic-
Oh, but that isn’t her fault, now is it?
It was hers. Chariot du nord. The person she so idolizes, the witch who gave her her dream- and subsequently crushed it to dust.
The mentor she admires.
The mother she needed within the academy.
The one who betrayed her the most.
[I hate you.]
Hate the one who trusts blindly, the one who trusts in all the wrong things.
Hands reach up to a slim neck, almost hesitant to touch it. They wrap themselves around it. It’s cold, but there’s a pulse. It’s cold, yet she feels drenched in sweat. It’s cold… like her gaze.
She just needs to squeeze-
“Akko? We’re back and- what… happened to your arm?”
Lotte. You love her. You love her a lot. She’s sweet, smells like butterscotch and honey-lemon tea. She’s holding a plastic bag, school supplies? Yes. Looks like it.
“I was cutting open a package from home. The cutter slipped.” Lotte looks like she wants to believe you. But she doesn’t.
“Right, of course.”
“I’m telling the truth, Lotte. Look.” You point to the half-opened box on the floor that’s surprisingly actually there. Maybe you weren’t lying after all.
“I see, okay. I believe you Akko.”
You hate the fact that she may think you’re a liar. You love her, but you hate that.
Sucy walks into the room right after Lotte does. She says nothing other than the usual dull greeting, handing you a random mushroom.
Strange.
But that’s normal. Strange is normal for Sucy.
And you love that about her.
She doesn’t pry, she doesn’t act out of line, she only does what she’s supposed to… alongside other things.
But she never pushes it with you.
And you love that. You love the freedom and the space she gives you. The lack of interrogation.
Lotte bandages you up soon after, the antiseptic is supposed to sting, but… it doesn’t. Maybe it’s the many times you’ve been through this. You’ve grown numb. Immune to little stings. They’re nothing but ant bites.
They’re nothing compared to…
Lotte’s hand on your cheek pulls you out of your thoughts. She’s smiling kindly, no questions, no interrogations- well maybe one question.
“Are you hungry? Let’s grab some dinner.”
You nod. You tell her you’ll just get changed, and she and Sucy reluctantly leave you to your devices.
You say reluctantly because Lotte won’t stop throwing glances at you on her way out.
Sheesh. You’ll be fine.
You say that as you change out of your bloodied clothes.
You head to the wardrobe, you open it and find the mess that you call your… well, clothes. You need to do a bit of digging to find the perfect wear. Something thick, something dark, something long.
A long black hoody sounds perfect.
You wear it over matching joggers and face the mirror once more. You feel bile climb up your throat at the site of her. You hate her.
[I hate you.]
Her and her messy ass.
Her and her disgruntled look, and unkempt hair.
[I hate you.]
Red eyes. Bloody. So bloody. Bloodshot? Her eyes look like they would murder someone. That’s not very nice. You hate that. You hate her.
She’s not very nice.
There’s a breeze that wafts into your room. It’s chilly. It tells you that the window is open.
Ah.
The curtain is fluttering, it’s outstretching its hand, inviting you in.
Come now.
It’s alluring, white as snow.
The sun is gone, it’s left you like everyone else. You’re not likeable enough to have someone stay by your side.
You look back to the mirror. You see her, she looks lifeless, emotionless.
But wait- there’s… there’s fear in her eyes.
She’s afraid. You hate that. You hate her. She doesn’t deserve to feel fear, to have it reflected in her soul.
Ah.
You punched her. You didn’t mean to, but you did. But she fights back, it seems. Your hands… they’re… bleeding hands. There are cracked fragments of glass at your feet, and shards in your knuckles.
She’s evil.
She’s very much evil and you hate her.
She hurts you.
She hurts you all the time and you hate her because she hurts you so.
But she’s gone now.
You’ve punched her.
You no longer see her.
Her ugly face.
Her pale demeanor.
Her dying pallor.
Her idiotic expressions.
Nothing.
That makes you happy.
You can go to dinner now, yes.
Which… which way was it?
Oh, the curtain tells you it’s this way.
Here. Come here.
It’s cool, it’s fresh… it’s…
That’s deep.
The ground is far. Quite far.
It’s perfect.
You stand on the ledge.
It’s hard, stable.
Great.
You think of her one last time.
You hated her, but she deserves some parting words.
Maybe then her spirit wouldn’t be bound should she be dead as of now.
“I hate you.” You whisper once to the wind.
The wind carries it back.
That’s right.
“I hate you.”
The moon smiles.
You smile back.
I hate you.
I hate you just like everyone else does. The girls who threw away your drinking water after PE, the ones who put tacks in your shoes. The ones who hid your books and got you in trouble with Finneran.
Yes. Just like them all…
You thought it would get better for her.
But you were wrong.
You believed.
And you were stabbed, face-front, in the heart.
So stupid.
It never gets better.
Not for her. Not for you.
“I hate you. You idiot… You utterly, completely, MORONIC idiot.”
…
“I hate you... you and your stupid. STUPID. Believing heart.”
And you finally take that first step-
The door bursts wide open, slamming against the very wall it is attached to.
Ahhh… look at that beauty.
Fair-snow skin, gorgeous curled locks. Even through puffs of cold, cold air, you see cherry pink lips. They look so warm. Warm like her eyes, their feelings a stark contrast to that blue hue. Justice is there, kindness is there. Loyalty, bravery, beauty, talent… she has everything.
She has everything you love.
She is everything you love.
Ah that thought… you love that.
You love her.
So much.
So damn much.
“Diana…” You finally croak out.
“I hate me.”
She cries. You hate her tears. You hate yourself even more. You want to take your other foot and step out the next step, but…
“And yet, I Love You… Akko.”
A/N: Was that okay? I mean, no. Akko is not okay. Not okay. Hahaha. Yet.
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