Chapter Text
The apartment was near silent, the only noise filling up the space being the click of the clock and faint footsteps. The doorknob rattles, and Minoru speeds through the vestibule, into the hallway. He has bags upon paper bags in hand, all filled with groceries, thing to cook, and things for plants. He goes down the first floors hall and knocks on the 2nd, which so happened to be the last door. He knocks thrice, before waiting a bit and swinging it open.
"Miss!! I'm here! I got the stuff you asked for!" Mineta hollered, going through the house (not before taking his shoes off), and setting the groceries down in the Livingroom. As always, she sat there with her gaggle of plants, which Mineta swore that some were alive. They always scared him. He starts to unpack them, and the lady doesn't say much. In fact, nothing at all. He doesn't find it suspicious- she does this often. Old people just don't respond, sometimes.
Or so he thought.
He allows himself to put away all of her groceries. He had some time after school to run some tasks and decided that he would come visit her. He didn't live here anymore-- no, not after U.A started giving them dorms to reside in. He had called beforehand and asked if there was anything she had needed. She asked for a few things, which wasn't horrible.
He took a fair bit to get there, he won't lie. He saw some cute girls outside a cafe and couldn't resist staring, to which he got a nosebleed. He had tissues in his nose, to stop the bleeding.
He steps away from her kitchen, and comes back to the living room, finally having a chance to see what was going on. His mouth feels metallic, and his throat feels thick with honey. A pain settles in his stomach, one he's felt before but has done everything to forget it, and suddenly he reacts. His body reacts, he feels so unbelievably warm, his face ESPECIALLY, and his breathing quickens. His pupils shrink. He doesn't want to see. He doesn't want to remember. His hands tremble and his fingers shake. He bites his lip hard, and it starts to bleed.
Get up.
He can't move. It's like he's frozen in time.
Do something.
He can't. He won't. He's scared, more than ever before. No, that was a lie. He was most scared when...
Mineta screams and lashes out, a pot falling to the floor in his panic. He runs for the phone, and dials 119. His voice is shaky and lacks base, of course it did, but he steadies it for the poor old lady. She hadn't been breathing, and in fact her body had looked quite pale. Despite how Mineta knew these signs meant death, he wanted so desperately believe there was a chance that she was still okay. If he believed enough, then it'd go away... Sure, that'd what he'd tell himself.
It felt like a blur as the ambulance came and rushed in. He barely noticed when the EMS worker had told him that she had died upon arrival. He still was barely responsive as timed moved on, regardless of how he felt. It was nauseating.
Hours later, he laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was still in his uniform, not even bothering to change. He felt sick, and dirty. He felt like he was truly, truly alone.
He thought about a girl. He thought about anyone-- anything to give him the love and attention he so desired. He rolls over, trying to solidify the thoughts in his head. Big, big boobs with lovely, caring eyes... Long hair, (or short, he's not picky), and someone who'd love him. He thinks about a tall, lovely girl. He curls up. He thinks about her and him, in bed, doing things... Things he thought about a lot of the time.
Oddly, a lot of the time when he thought like this, it was when he was upset. Of course, Mineta hadn't realized this. He enjoyed fantasizing-- it never hurt anyone, and as long as it wasn't a real person, was it really that bad? Though, he could imagine a few people who he'd... He shakes his head, and feels near disgust with himself, before he shakes away the guilt.
It's just thoughts. It's not like it hurts anyone, he thinks. He wouldn't actually do it, anyway. People didn't enjoy his advances, so he took that as a clear no. There wasn't any harm in trying every once in a while, though, was there? Ignoring that, he tossed and turned. He unbuckles his belt and slides his hands into his pants.
A few hours later, Mineta lays and pants on his bed, now messy with balls and wads of tissue. He's shirtless, but not pantless. He feels... increasing empty, and not even satisfied. He feels like crying, so, he does. He buries his face into his pillow and lets a few tears stream down. He's still coming down, but he can still feel the pain. He doesn't enjoy it one bit. He blinks, trying to lull himself to a sleep. He doesn't even know if it's worth it or not. She's still going to be dead tomorrow, right?
He feels sick. He gets up, shakily, and makes his way to the bathroom. God, he looks disgusting. He feels disgusting. Sometimes, he wished he wasn't like this. He felt like he was trapped in his own mind- his own behavior, and like he wouldn't ever move on. Sometimes, he feels like his entire life is based around pleasure, and nothing more. It's fun after a while, but now he's just incredibly, completely, drained. He hates how he wanted to keep going until he couldn't feel feelings anymore. He throws up in his sink, only a small amount and God, does it suck. Tears continue to well in his large eyes.
Turning the handle for cool water, he let his bile wash down the drain before washing off his face and his mouth. He turns back to bed, moving between all of the tissues and covers. He gets under the blankets, trying to ignore his instincts. They get worse the more he tries not to think about it, it's not a mental want anymore. It feels more like a need, a chore, and it makes him feel absolutely repulsive.
He'll only do it once more, he tells himself. It'll be short and quick.
An hour later, we see a repeat of the earlier situation, except more tissues than before. Mineta is truly drained right about now If you looked in his eyes, it's almost like there were no reflection, let alone light. He closes them, and they don't open for a few more hours.
BEEEP
BEEEP
BEEEP
He blinks a few times, before the light gets in his eyes. He squints, before closing them again. Morning again, already? Fuck, fuck, today was school, he knew it was. FUCK! He gets out of bed, scratching at his arms. He doesn't notice how overgrown his nails have gotten, the last time he's sat down and ate a real meal, and how weak his skin is. He throws on his uniform and as he grabs his bag and finished putting on his left shoe, ran to school, skipping breakfast.
--
He walks in the classroom, and almost everyone is there, save for 1 or 2. He's lucky Mr. Aizawa waits as long as he's legally allowed to rest before class, so it definitely helps when he's a bit tardy. Out of habit, he scratches at his arms, before trotting up to his desk. There are 2 flowers on the desk, their stems tied together. One was rotting, and the other beginning to rot.
The coincidence was all too uncanny. He runs out, bumping into a few of his classmates on the way to the restroom. He barely makes it to the trash can, and he gags and then hurls up what feels like his entire stomach. It was mostly just bile, which freaked him out a small bit, but what can he do. He hears something out of his vision, and he whips his head around to see Denki. He wishes he could feel, well, relieved.
Mineta wasn't. All he feels when he sees his friend is the upmost shame. He feels something burn within the bottom of his gut; he wishes that it would go away already. Before he could speak, another wave of bile is pushed through his lips, some dribbling through his nose. He harks it up into the trash, and chokes on it a little. It's disgusting and burns his nose. He feels insane, and alone. The worst part about it, was that his body was reacting, and he has no real idea why. He dashes into the nearest stall, ignoring and evading Denki just for a few minutes.
He sits on the toilet and throws his bag onto the floor without much of a second care. He claws at his pants, he hates himself, why is he like this? Why can't, why can't he stop it? Before he knew it, big fat tears rolled down his face like the faucet after the handle was turned a little more than it was supposed to be. He catches this in his shirt, not caring it was soaked. He wanted every single feeling to go away, right now, this instant.
He reaches his hand into his bookbag and takes out a Swiss Army Knife. He flips it to the appropriate mode, and cuts he shoves down his pants. He sees through tears and almost a bit of red. He puts the knife to his crotch, just where his junk started. Biting his lips, his mind racks itself for many, many reasons NOT to do this. None of them seemed to change the decision. It doesn't change the fact that he's hesitating regardless.
Just do it. Just a little movement. Just do it. One step at a time.
"Mineta?" Denki called, concerned, and loud. It was sudden and broke Mineta's stupor with a jump.
"FUCK!" The knife had sliced his dick when he flinched, and it was a decent sized cut and it hurt like fucking hell. He would've regretted it if seeing the redness of the blood didn't quell his pain. It was... it wasn't good, he'll admit. But it felt the closest thing he could do to repenting, to being fucking normal. He didn't want to be horny, not right now, and in his mind, not ever again. It's brought him more pain and spent more energy than he could've imagined. He couldn't see how this wasn't a good thing. Bunches of people have told him to do this, and he starts to wonder why he hadn't tried this sooner?
He runs another cut up his dick, right against the biggest vein. Just as he nicks it at an angle he likes, it spurts up blood, way more than before. He doesn't feel faint yet, it's funny. As the blood runs, he feels a sort of relief. His only regret is that his blood would be staining the floor, and he knows that it'll be hell to clean. He knows that better than anyone.
---
Denki starts to panic when he sees blood coming from up under the stall Mineta was hiding out in. He feels dry-mouthed, and he knows his expression is shocked. It takes everything in him to run out the bathroom, calling for Mr. Aizawa as he ran down the hall. He bumps into Bakugo walking down the hallway as he does, and tried to apologize. Bakugo is less than happy about it, making a fuss. As much as Denki would have loved to stick around, his friend was probably bleeding out right now-?!
"DUDE! MOVE!" He runs into the classroom, shoving Bakugo. He ran in and got about 2 words in before Bakugo grabs him. Denki is getting increasingly stressed the more Bakugo occupies him. He starts to tear up from the sheer frustration, and Bakugo takes a step back once he sees he's having that affect on someone like Denki. Denki runs to Aizawa, and says, "Mineta is bleeding out in the FUCKING bathroom!"
Everything pauses, before Bakugo laughs. No one else does, but also, no one else bothers to muster up energy to actually go and help. The flowers looked just as elegant as they did before, white, and untouched. Aizawa stands up almost suddenly in his sleeping bag, and unzipping. He follows Denki back to the bathroom. When they get there, the scene is a lot more grizzly than before.
Mineta was standing outside of the stall, pants on, but they were quickly staining darker. The room was heavy with an iron smell, the same with Mineta's clothes. Blood gushed from the bottom of his pants, and it was beginning to stain his socks. It was most definitely coming from his crotch. He's shaking, (most likely in shock), and looks up at his teacher and classmate.
"D-did I d-d-do good-d?"
The statement shocks them both to their very core, and for the first of many times that day, Denki threw up. The sight of it mixing with blood made his head spin. He runs out, eyes shut. He hates how when he opens his eyes, he can see the footprints he's making.
Mineta looks up at Aizawa and does a poor attempt at a smile. Suddenly, his expression is flat, and he falls stiff, like a board. Aizawa catches him, wrapping him in bandages and running him to the nurse's office as fast as he could. Time was of the essence.
--
The next time Mineta awoke, Aizawa, and a good amount of his teachers were there, plus some others he didn't recognize. They held clipboards.
Mineta doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't. His teacher sees his eyes flutter and he's there. He seems to have gained a lot more hair, especially on his chin. He wonders how long he was there for. Or, thinking of the reason why he didn't have time to shave for so long.
"...You goddamn idiot kid." Aizawa curses, embracing Mineta. Mineta sits, there, sort of limp, half because he doesn't know what to do, and the other half because he's quite literally numbed and drugged beyond the lower half. Mineta laughs, as if he was agreeing with his teacher.
"Yeah, yeah, that's me..."