[She isn't the only one who is surprised by her reaction when she does finally see the mess of his face; it can't be helped even if it only makes him more irate with himself. During his curse, she couldn't even look him in the eye by the end of it and his nasty subconscious is just immediately braced for more of the same. Just validating that he is the small minded piece of shit that he told Vi he was during his catacombs confession, he isn't giving her credit where credit is due. There is nothing but determination written in Ochako's face, and he truly is a fucking asshole for expecting otherwise after her promise.
Katsuki does allow her to take the rag eventually, but at first his fingers do not seem keen to let her take it from him and take over his job of cleaning himself up. The taller teen is the epitome of tense, though the glance away really does serve as a split second reprieve that allows him to relax just a hair. Enough to not try to duck away from her hand when Ochako does turn back to him, to allow her to bring the damp cloth to his face. Still, there's nothing about his expression that has softened, in fact it's only knitting harder as she speaks quietly and gently gets to work.
The honesty is appreciated, even if it isn't necessarily the answer he was looking for. Really though, what else did he fucking expect, asking Ochako a loaded question like that? Briefly, his jaw does unclench... another brief moment of allowing himself to relax just a little bit more because her smile, while sad, is still somehow soothing. But Katsuki is right back to his old tricks, the moment his middle school self is brought into the conversation. God, is that what she fucking thinks? That it was just... fuck! That darker thought from earlier wasn't wrong, Ochako really doesn't know shit about this and it's really fucking apparent right now. Clench, tighter than before, brows knitting center even harder than before as his expression darkens all over again. Still trying to resist, to not fucking pull away from his best friend... he thinks he's got it. He's gonna keep looking her in the fucking eye and stomaching talking about this shit even though every word thereafter is tainted by that alone. As much as he can see that Ochako is right; that Katsuki has come a long fucking way from the monster he used to be, he just. It's fucking hard to allow himself to accept that it's something to be proud of, but she wants him to and he's honestly trying to take that gift from her.
And then she goes and fucking says that. He made it so far into this, he did... so fucking well, and now? He's unable to stop himself from snapping.
Katsuki's hand flies up very suddenly to take her wrist into a tight, but restrained hold and he yanks it away from his face. Eyes wide and livid-- almost desperate beneath that live-wire look as his face twists and his teeth bare. Volume rising, a hint of cracking emotion in the boom of it.] Like hell it's okay! This ain't just some fucking middle school bullshit I pulled, this is--fuck! [He's got to let go of her. He's going to squeeze her wrist too hard, and hurting Ochako is the last thing he ever fucking wants to do. Katsuki pushes her arm away and lets go, tries to take a step back to put some distance between them. It's the only logical move he's got, when everything else is boiling over dangerously on the inside.] If you actually knew what the hell you were even talking about--if you had any idea of anything I did, you'd know that it'd be a fucking disservice to every effort I'm making change, and to him if I ever forgave myself for the hell I put him through! It isn't ever gonna be fucking okay!
[The breath he has to suck in after practically screaming that into her face is sobering, to say the least, and the realization that he's just lost his fucking temper on Ochako is visibly dawning on him; fury bleeding into wide eyed horror. His mouth suddenly snaps shut, his teeth grind into each other hard and Katsuki turns his head away from her as he raises his hand to wipe at his nose.
Fuck. He's such a fucking prick. He's always going to be a fucking prick. It's ingrained in him at this point, he can't get rid of it. Couldn't beat his own hair-trigger anger to save his fucking life. Wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she just said fuck it and walked out on his sorry ass, right here and now.]
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Katsuki does allow her to take the rag eventually, but at first his fingers do not seem keen to let her take it from him and take over his job of cleaning himself up. The taller teen is the epitome of tense, though the glance away really does serve as a split second reprieve that allows him to relax just a hair. Enough to not try to duck away from her hand when Ochako does turn back to him, to allow her to bring the damp cloth to his face. Still, there's nothing about his expression that has softened, in fact it's only knitting harder as she speaks quietly and gently gets to work.
The honesty is appreciated, even if it isn't necessarily the answer he was looking for. Really though, what else did he fucking expect, asking Ochako a loaded question like that? Briefly, his jaw does unclench... another brief moment of allowing himself to relax just a little bit more because her smile, while sad, is still somehow soothing. But Katsuki is right back to his old tricks, the moment his middle school self is brought into the conversation. God, is that what she fucking thinks? That it was just... fuck! That darker thought from earlier wasn't wrong, Ochako really doesn't know shit about this and it's really fucking apparent right now. Clench, tighter than before, brows knitting center even harder than before as his expression darkens all over again. Still trying to resist, to not fucking pull away from his best friend... he thinks he's got it. He's gonna keep looking her in the fucking eye and stomaching talking about this shit even though every word thereafter is tainted by that alone. As much as he can see that Ochako is right; that Katsuki has come a long fucking way from the monster he used to be, he just. It's fucking hard to allow himself to accept that it's something to be proud of, but she wants him to and he's honestly trying to take that gift from her.
And then she goes and fucking says that. He made it so far into this, he did... so fucking well, and now? He's unable to stop himself from snapping.
Katsuki's hand flies up very suddenly to take her wrist into a tight, but restrained hold and he yanks it away from his face. Eyes wide and livid-- almost desperate beneath that live-wire look as his face twists and his teeth bare. Volume rising, a hint of cracking emotion in the boom of it.] Like hell it's okay! This ain't just some fucking middle school bullshit I pulled, this is--fuck! [He's got to let go of her. He's going to squeeze her wrist too hard, and hurting Ochako is the last thing he ever fucking wants to do. Katsuki pushes her arm away and lets go, tries to take a step back to put some distance between them. It's the only logical move he's got, when everything else is boiling over dangerously on the inside.] If you actually knew what the hell you were even talking about--if you had any idea of anything I did, you'd know that it'd be a fucking disservice to every effort I'm making change, and to him if I ever forgave myself for the hell I put him through! It isn't ever gonna be fucking okay!
[The breath he has to suck in after practically screaming that into her face is sobering, to say the least, and the realization that he's just lost his fucking temper on Ochako is visibly dawning on him; fury bleeding into wide eyed horror. His mouth suddenly snaps shut, his teeth grind into each other hard and Katsuki turns his head away from her as he raises his hand to wipe at his nose.
Fuck. He's such a fucking prick. He's always going to be a fucking prick. It's ingrained in him at this point, he can't get rid of it. Couldn't beat his own hair-trigger anger to save his fucking life. Wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she just said fuck it and walked out on his sorry ass, right here and now.]