While You Were Busy Being Heterosexual, We Studied The Blade. (BNHA Chatfic)

When the Day Met The Night.

(A/N: Just like with Ojirou's birthday chapter, this has no relation with the plot of the fic.)
-----------------------------------------------------

Private messages between MummyI'mAZombie and TheseEyebagsAreGucci

MummyI'mAZombie: Hey kiddo, I know you don't like your birthday, but I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday. Your pops and I love you very much and we want you to remember that. And please try not to think about... back then.

TheseEyebagsAreGucci: Thanks dad, I'll try not to. And I love you too.

...

Shinsou's POV

After the brief smile that dawned my face from reading my dad's message, I turned off my phone and rolled over to the opposite side of my bed, facing the wall. I avoided everyone today, even Ojirou, I just... can't stand today. I can't stand my birthday.

Before I was adopted by my dads, my household... wasn't the greatest. Most of the time I was just,, locked in my room. My parents barely fed me, it was usually just scraps of food from the fancy dinner they just had themselves. If I ever complained my "father" would give me a nice whack across the head with his vodka bottle, and once I developed my quirk and couldn't control when I would brainwash someone, every time I would accidentally brainwash them the beatings would be twice as bad...

School was even worse. From primary school to the beginning of Middle school, I was bullied constantly because everyone was either jealous of my quirk, or hated me for it. I was called a villain non stop, despite not even knowing any of the people in my school. I never knew anyone because the bullies were somewhat more popular and always bad mouthed me to our peers, so no one even wanted to look in my direction. They would always beat me up after school, some days the beatings were not as bad, some days they were like literal torture. That was the part thing about it, they constantly kept me on my toes because the severity was always so inconsistent. Even then, the weaker beatings would litter me in bruises, occasionally fracturing something.

But, the absolute worst beatings came to me on my birthday, because that was when both my bullies and my parents would completely beat the shit out of me. My parents did it as a way to always remind me that I wasn't meant to be born, I wasn't meant to be the villain that I am, I wasn't meant to live. They made it clear from day one that they wanted me dead, and to keep it hidden from everyone that I was alive, they never told me that I had other family, they never told my other family that I existed. Their beatings would include starving me, no scraps of food, dehydrating me, breaking as many bones as they could but only keeping enough unharmed so I could still move around. All the beatings happened on my body so no one was able to see what my parents did. The bullies basically did the same thing. They threw away my lunch tray and anytime I tried to get it back from them, they pushed me down. It never escalated any further so they would get caught, but the more I would fight back, the worse their beatings were afterwards. They aimed straight for the face, and didn't care about rendering me immobile. It was even worse because a lot would still be bruised and broken from my parents, so it hurt 10000000x worse when they'd hit me. One time a kid pulled out a knife and almost stabbed me. It barely nicked me, it slit through my skin a good inch on the side but never actually went inside. I managed to escape that. Soon after, I was taken by CPS, and put in an orphanage. The kids there were all basically the same... still blinded by the stigma of heroic and villainous quirks. But this time, the vast majority didn't beat me. I was just... neglected. No one paid attention to me, they starved me of touch and affection, and after a while, I believed I deserved it. They barely ever even looked my way, it wasn't just that they were deliberately ignoring me, it was literally like I was invisible and no one could physically see me. It drove me insane, along with the months of bottling up the way I felt. Never expressing any sort of emotion, no sorrow or dread, I just... existed. I knew nothing would get better, and while it turns out that I was wrong, I can't help but dig myself back in the deep, dark, disquieted hole of depression every birthday. This was just how the cycle went, and it wouldn't change. I look and feel like I'm barely hanging on.