Iida and Uraraka were chatting on either side of him, but Izuku couldn't bring himself to listen. Izuku was on his way to hero training, and he couldn't get his mind off the way his cuts were starting to itch under his uniform. Never let it be said that cutting didn't have its drawbacks.

"- Right Deku?" Uraraka asked.

"Wait sorry what? I didn't catch that." Izuku said.

Uraraka shot him a look that told him she knew something was up, "Iida and I were just talking about movie night this Friday and how we're really excited for it."

"Oh yeah!" Izuku said. "I've heard a lot of good things about End Game, but I haven't actually gotten around to watching it myself yet."

Iida laughed. "You? Not seeing a superhero movie? Has hell frozen over? I thought you always went to see Marvel movies the Thursday before opening night. What happened to that?"

"It's not that unusual. I was just telling Uraraka earlier that I've been really backed up with homework lately, so I haven't been able to do of my hobbies all that much."

Uraraka gave him a pointed stare, "Come on Deku, you know you have to make time for yourself. Not everything has to be about school all the time."

"Yes yes, I know. It's just been weighing on me a bit more than usual lately, that's all." Half of Deku's mouth turned up in a forced smile.

"Alright but know that Uraraka and I are always here to hang out, if you're in the mood." Iida gave him a genuine smile, one that crinkled his eyes in the corners, and Izuku couldn't help but think that he had been blessed with the best friends in the world.

The trio approached the locker rooms, and parted ways to get changed. Hero training progressed as normal, and by the time Izuku made it back to the changing rooms at the end of class, he was dripping with sweat.

Unfortunately, due to his self-inflicted injuries, Izuku could not change with the rest of the class. The scars would raise too many questions. He had built up quite the talent for stalling for time while waiting for the rest of the boys to finish changing, mainly by making conversation with Kirishima a few lockers down from his. Once he was certain everyone had cleared out, he faced the wall and began to change.

Another drawback to cutting was looking at the scars once he was done. Now, Izuku was no stranger to scars. He had them covering quite a bit of his body due to quirk misusage, and those never bothered him any. They were symbols of how far he had come in managing his quirk, and he wore them with pride. His self-harm scars were another story. His stomach dropped every time he caught a glimpse of them in the mirror, or whenever he changed. They were a reminder of how much of a failure he was, of exactly how far his life had fallen apart. Written all over his chest was proof of his weakness, and he could do nothing about it.

The door to the locker room banged open. Kacchan entered the room, and declared he was back because he had forgotten a textbook in his locker. He made his way over to it, feet away from Izuku, when he saw them.

"What the fuck is that?" He demanded.

"W-What do you mean?" Izuku responded. He had no idea why his first response was to play dumb, Kacchan was no idiot, and it was clear by his stance that he already knew what they were.

"What is that all over your chest?" His tone was sharp, clearly not wanting to believe what he already knew to be true.

For once in his life, Izuku didn't have an excuse. He stood gaping at Kacchan, which must have not been the right response, because next thing he knew, Kacchan had grabbed his bag and stormed out the door.

The next day started like any other. Even though it was unlikely that Kacchan would try and confront him about what he saw in the locker room the other day, Izuku didn't want to risk it, so he made a point to get to class directly before the bell rang. Izuku made his way to his seat, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Kacchan, and sat himself down.

Class passed in a blur of anxiety. Someone else knew about his cutting. Someone else, someone who hated his existence to boot, knew exactly how far he had fallen. Before he knew it, the bell was ringing. Izuku shot up out of his seat, and began his quick walk to the door, when Kacchan's arm shot out to stop him. He met Izuku's eyes.

"Come with me to my room." It wasn't a request. Immediately, Izuku's mind was flooded with excuses, but he knew that whatever excuse he gave Kacchan would never be enough. Izuku could see in Kacchan's eyes that this was not something he would be letting go easily, and he knew better than to blow him off.

"Okay." Izuku squeaked out.

They made their way into Kacchan's dorm, Izuku heard the soft click of the lock behind them. Kacchan leaned against the wall right next to the door, crossed his arms, and looked at Izuku as the other man made himself comfortable on the chair next to Kacchan's desk. He wasted no time.

"Is it my fault?" He asked.

"What?"

"Your cutting. Is it my fault?"

"What? N-No, no, of course it isn't! Why would you think that?" Kacchan's eyebrows narrowed as his face distorted in fury, and Izuku knew it was the wrong thing to ask.

"Why is it my fault?" He yelled. "Why is it my fault. Maybe because I bullied you for years? Because I made your life a living hell since we were four? Or maybe this is the result of the time I told you to jump off a fucking building when were fourteen! Hell, if I- "

"Kacchan!" Izuku matched his volume. "Kacchan." He repeated, speaking this time. "I promise you none of this is your fault. I forgave you for all of that stuff years ago. All of this is a result of my own problems, and my own faults. Please don't blame yourself for this."

"Izuku." Izuku startled at the use of his given name. "Please, just use that dumb little brain of yours for one second. If I hadn't done all of that shit to you for years, would you still be getting the urge to hurt yourself?"

"I- "

"No. Sit there and think about this for a minute. I want your answer to be thought out."

"Kacchan. I don't need to think about this. Recovery Girl says I have depression. My mom has depression. It's in my blood to be this way."

The silence was deafening. The fury had long faded from his face, and in its place was deep-rooted skepticism.

"Have you ever… you know."

"Have I ever… what?"

"Have you ever tried to do what I told you to do all those years ago?" Kacchan's eyes were desperate. Desperate to believe that his childhood friend, despite his struggles, would not have gone that far.

Izuku couldn't bring himself to respond. He knew that he was a god-awful liar, and he knew that Kacchan would be able to see right through him. The silence stretched between them.

"I'm sorry." Kacchan finally said. Izuku's eyebrow's shot up. "I'm sorry that I was such a dick to you for all those years. I know that sorry can't fix what I've done to you, and I know that I don't deserve the forgiveness you have so freely given me, but please believe me when I say that I mean it, from the bottom of my heart. I am truly, deeply sorry." He bowed his head to hide the tears gathering in his eyes.

"Kacchan." Izuku's voice broke in the middle of the word. He was never good with emotional situations. If someone else cried, he was going to cry too. He could feel himself tearing up, despite his efforts to keep the tears at bay. "I appreciate the apology. But you should know that you do deserve forgiveness. I-I won't lie and say that what happened all those years ago was right, but I have seen you grow since then. I know that you are a much better person than you were then, and I know that you would never intentionally hurt me like that again."

Kacchan nodded, refusing to lift his gaze from where it was locked on the floor.

"Let me help you." He said. "I can put together a plan where If you're ever feeling like you want to hurt yourself, you can come to me and we can figure this out together. I don't want you to hurt like that anymore."

Izuku could hardly believe his years. His bully for years, and the boy he had always looked up to, wanted to help him.

The tears that were barely held back spilled over, "I would love that Kacchan."