My Mental Health Comes Before your Feelings

Chapter 1

"What did you just say?"

"Um..." he stuttered, a nervous look in his eye, "t-that you're the cutest girl I know?" Midoria's gaze drifted, "I just - you're so pretty, and sweet, and..." He began that mumbling shit he does. On, and on. Nonstop about how... femanine his classmate was.

He hated it.

"Please stop..." Ochaco muttered under his breath, he'd had enough. All day. Every. Fucking. Day.

He turned and ran; not caring about what others thought of his rash exit.

God, why the fuck do they keep treating him like some, some delicate flower?

How many more times does he have to prove himself? Prove that he's strong. Prove that he isn't some fragile girl.

He's a man, damnit. A badass, motherfucking machine.

So, he ran.

To the only person he could think of. The only person who'd never seen him as weak.

Katsuki.

***

Deep in the closet, much like herself, stashed away better than a criminal on the run, was a small suitcase. She didn't have much; just enough to feel like - well, herself, on a bad day.

And today was one of those days.

Back home, she'd never dared attempt to wear anything even remotely femanine, considering how little her mother cared about others' privacy. Fucking hag.

But with the dorms, things were different. The door locked; and for the most part, with the exception of her eccentric friend group, her classmates kept their distance.

It felt safe.

With her so called bakusquad preoccupied with a trip to the mall, she had a few hours to herself to kill.

And, fuck, was she going to take advantage of it.

Digging through the large hoard of other crap, she pulled out the suitcase; placing the precious bag on her bed.

Day to day, she wore simple shit; edgy, baggy, awful clothes her mom had bought.

These few, treasured articles couldn't be more polar. 

A few lacy shirts, a skirt or two, knee high socks, a tube of lipstick, and mascara she'd snatched from her mother's dresser one night. All treasured. Old, and cheap - but they worked.

But one. One that she loved more than anything she'd ever owned. A simple, yet intricate baby pink dress she'd managed to stow away in secret.

She'd always been careful about what she bought. What if her mother decided to check her debit card history? It would be disastrous. So she saved. Every penny that came her way, she saved. Until she had enough cash, and a free day alone.

This dress was the first thing she bought. It was special, and absolutely perfect.

Pairing it with the knee high, cream socks, and a more androgenous pair of black boots she owned - she melted. Loud rock music masked her footsteps as she danced around her dorm room; savoring the feel of the fabric twirling around her.

Unfortunately, it also masked the sound of her door opening, and a teary eyed Ochaco barging in; back plastered against it like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

Hazel eyes met crimson; both wide with shock.

She could feel her world shatter as hot tears threatening to spill.