Katsuki’s fingers twitch weakly as you gently dab at the blood on his grazed knuckles. He hadn’t meant to hit the wall that hard, hadn’t meant to hit it at all, just a displacement of anger. And you can tell by the way his trembling bottom lip is bit between his teeth and how he can’t meet your gaze that he’s drowning in shame. In a guilt that’s making his chest all tight and his throat ache with a need to cry.

“Mum used to do this,” his voice cracks as his hoarse whisper breaks the silence. “She’d yell real loud, throw stuff, hit me when I got out of line. I didn’t know what the line was, so I kept crossing it. And I… I just got louder, and angrier, because it wouldn’t matter what I did. I was always wrong.” Katsuki sniffles weakly and lets out a slow breath. Words have never been his strong suit so finding what he wants to say isn’t easy.

“She didn’t mean to mess me up,” he murmurs, his voice quiet now, like he’s admitting something he doesn’t want to accept to be true. “But I don’t know how to be anything but like her.” Katsuki’s brow twitches and his face scrunches with discomfort, he’s never been good with vulnerability, and he turns his head as his tears finally slip down his cheeks. “Stupid. This is stupid,” he mutters wearily.