[He nods, watching Aizawa leave. As soon as the other is gone, he scratches furiously at his neck. Reopening all kinds of scabs in the process. It's vicious as he tries to drown out his anxiety with the intense burning of his neck. Eventually he wears his fingers out and falls back in his bed. Laying there and gazing up at the ceiling with tears streaming down his face at how badly his neck hurt.
Everything hurt.
Shigaraki knows there's no point in feeling sorry for himself. He eventually pulls himself together to look through the box of his belongings. The clothes are the first thing he goes through and he sort of haphazardly pulls them out one by one. He drops them all on the floor as he goes. It's all hand-me downs and donated clothes, mostly sweatpants and t-shirts. There was a new bag of underwear and socks too but no long sleeved shirts like he'd hoped for. He's about to despair at the sad state of his clothes when the last thing he pulls out is a soft gray hoodie. That one goes on the bed as he kicks the pile of clothes into a corner.
The rest of the box has his hygiene products and his journal which he carefully places on the desk he'd been given. Unlike the clothes, he actually shoves the box into the closet.
With everything unpacked, he opted to take a shower. Using the bag that once held the new hygiene products for him as a barrier to protect the ankle bracelet, Shigaraki takes a quick warm shower. Letting the water wash over the fresh cuts on his neck.
Once he's done with the shower, he gets dressed. Putting on a fresh shirt, his new hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants and socks. There's a few hours left till dinner so Shigaraki uses the time to write in his journal, sitting at his desk with his hand gripping his hair.
I don't know what to write. Nobody wants me here and I don't even want to be here. I'm scared. He continues to write out his woes, pulling the hood on his hoodie over his face at one point because this felt pointless and stupid. What good was a journal going to do?
Dumb. This is fucking stupid.
Instead of pushing himself to write further he lays back down, staring at the ceiling while he waits for the time to tick away.]
no subject
Everything hurt.
Shigaraki knows there's no point in feeling sorry for himself. He eventually pulls himself together to look through the box of his belongings. The clothes are the first thing he goes through and he sort of haphazardly pulls them out one by one. He drops them all on the floor as he goes. It's all hand-me downs and donated clothes, mostly sweatpants and t-shirts. There was a new bag of underwear and socks too but no long sleeved shirts like he'd hoped for. He's about to despair at the sad state of his clothes when the last thing he pulls out is a soft gray hoodie. That one goes on the bed as he kicks the pile of clothes into a corner.
The rest of the box has his hygiene products and his journal which he carefully places on the desk he'd been given. Unlike the clothes, he actually shoves the box into the closet.
With everything unpacked, he opted to take a shower. Using the bag that once held the new hygiene products for him as a barrier to protect the ankle bracelet, Shigaraki takes a quick warm shower. Letting the water wash over the fresh cuts on his neck.
Once he's done with the shower, he gets dressed. Putting on a fresh shirt, his new hoodie, and a pair of sweatpants and socks. There's a few hours left till dinner so Shigaraki uses the time to write in his journal, sitting at his desk with his hand gripping his hair.
I don't know what to write. Nobody wants me here and I don't even want to be here. I'm scared. He continues to write out his woes, pulling the hood on his hoodie over his face at one point because this felt pointless and stupid. What good was a journal going to do?
Dumb. This is fucking stupid.
Instead of pushing himself to write further he lays back down, staring at the ceiling while he waits for the time to tick away.]