#iirased

    HOLDING BACK HER TEARS wasn’t working too well. She sat alone on her hospital bed, shaky hands squeezing her leg where the blood had started to come from. She had picked at her scabs, and now she was bleeding. The nurses told her not to, the nice nurses told her to leave them alone, but they were so itchy, and now-- and now, red stained her hands and had gotten on her dress and the sheets, she’d didn’t mean it, she didn’t mean to, she made a mess, she--

    A HICCUP ESCAPED HER. MORE TEARS FELL. She sniffled and hiccuped again, then scrunched up her face, trying to be quiet. But it seems she was heard; she shakily turned her head to see him standing in the doorway. She sat frozen yet trembling, still trying not to cry, still trying to cover up her leg.

      “ what’s so cool about bein’ a hero, anyway? “

      IMMEDIATELY, kouta glances away -- he knows his words will likely be followed by a confused and angry glare, as one often gives when he shows his  d i s d a i n  for heroics. but with this class of students and heroes, stepping into HIS home and acting like they belong here... he can’t help but feel a little tense.

   HE DIDN’T REALIZE IT WAS FEAR UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE.

   It was a feeling, he knew that ( obviously ), but it wasn’t one he was used to -- not one that could be placed. In all the adrenaline and desperation he faced, it was present in his gut. ALWAYS. When he clutched his cigarette in between trembling fingers, or his chest, coughing, always burning but never warm.

   His consideration, at first, was only brief. ‘ definitely not fear, ‘ he told himself. ‘ what do i have to be afraid of? ’

   Even with as far as he had gone, he knew it wasn’t guilt. That meant fear of himself was ruled out. He already knew he could take EVIL and make it his own; he was still standing!

   But… should he be? Was evil ever meant to be taken? That’s the question that  r e a l l y  got him thinking -- once briefly, now all consuming. Why shouldn’t he be a  VILLAIN  ! He was good at it, that much was evident, ask anyone!

   Just because you’re good at something, though, doesn’t mean you like it.

   Ever since he was a child, he wanted to be a hero. When he was a student, he wanted it more than ever, even as he approached his final years. And now that he was a villain…

   He needed it.

   Maybe that’s really what scared him. The idea of actually succeeding, in winning the game he didn’t want to play, living in constant envy of those who TRIUMPHED and became heroes, even  b a r e l y … when deep inside, he knew this was wrong.

   How could he let himself be  WRONG  ?!  Why did he stop fighting?  He had all the ambition and potential, and he thought that if he applied it ANYWHERE he would be satisfied. But now that his end goal was different, he FELT different.

   He was ashamed. Ashamed of losing. No -- not losing. Of LETTING himself lose.

   The overwhelming realization loomed over him for so long now, and he REFUSED to let it break him. Not until he physically couldn’t take it anymore, standing parallel to a professional hero, staring at what he should have been ‘ dead ‘ in the eye and watching him win. ( but he didn’t mean the battle. )

   [ 💀 ] || ＂Aizawa-sensei. ＂||

   The name was spoken in a bitter tone, but even so, he knew it would get his attention. It had been forever since the word was used by his own voice.

   [ 💀 ] || ＂Why did you let me get this far ?”＂||

   [ 💀 ] ||  ＂Do you really think--

         Was I ever meant to be a villain?

   I was supposed to be the best! The best HERO, not this !!!

   This is wrong, this is all wrong --

            HOW COULD YOU JUST STAND BACK AND WATCH THIS HAPPEN TO ME?＂||

( small/tall starters || [via.] || still accepting. )

      “ i never said i was gonna slap you in the FACE, you old shit!!! “