PLASTIC FLOWERS ( k. bakugou )

chapter 34

' a soft wrongness '

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Wednesday mornings were all waking up late at eight and chasing the time only to end up finding a distraction on street corners and the flower petals tumbling from stalks and arriving at ten at the exact time for Hero Art. It was the time where the sun shown brightly and flashed a myriad of colors to those conceited enough to look at it in the eye.

Now, as the much awaited summer escapade set its course, Wednesday mornings turned to the smell of disinfectants and blue gels sprayed out of transparent bottles with label warnings and mute surroundings.

Yuko's Wednesday morning was all smiles and drama, with silver grey hair hanging loosely on her side and cornflower eyes alit with excitement and pale skin where stars splintered and eyes unraveled the universe's secrets and fingertips traced the galaxy's edge.

It was about chocolate hazelnut haired girls with roses blooming on cheeks and boys with striking eyes and scorching determinations and love enclosed in weaved wooden baskets flowing with fruits of all shapes and sizes.

"I know it's late and all," she tells Uraraka, her cherry lips stretched into a smile. "But congratulations on passing!"

"Thanks," the word tumbles from kind lips and Yuko crosses lithe limbs underneath her stitched stature and over white unblemished sheets. She makes it a point to make her legs carry her weight and she can vaguely recognize the effect of late night chocolate bars and bowls of free somen underneath steel roofs where millions and thousands of iridescent dots were reflected.

She lets a shoulder rest on her knee and it collides with her almost nonexistent cheekbones, covered with flesh and skin almost a perfect shade of pale red underneath the ghostly artificial light. "Did Recovery Girl get mad?"

Uraraka averts her gaze, knots hands behind her back, whistling all the while and Yuko's eyes narrow. That was a candid response in itself. "I take it she wasn't too pleased," Yuko says, scratching the back of her head, tousling silver grey strands.

Uraraka chuckles awkwardly and Yuko continues to plant blue stares unto her and she knew she would have gotten a response if it weren't for the entrance of the Stain Trio.

The first thing cornflower eyes catch underneath the cheap lighting are the sheens, shapes and sizes of succulent fruits. Yuko grins broadly at them, the typical Yuko smile where you can practically feel the sunshine oozing from her lips. If Yuko had a label tag to denote her particular existence, it would have been 60% human and 40% sunshine 'cause Yuko was a girl of the sun, bathing in pools and pools of sunbeams until the stars on her skin are drowned out by the brilliance and only the milky glow of the moon remained.

"Thanks guys," she said and accepted the basket, the prominent smile on her face contagious and with that label she thought would have been a warning, stay away in case in tendency to brood. Blindingly brilliant and must approach in case of drowning in dolor.

"You're awfully fond of hospitals," Shouto said, standing on her left with a blank expression, bicoloured eyes scanning the different apparatuses hooked to her body, many which had long lost their purpose since Yuko was free to leave yesterday but a child of poverty she was, so she decided to grab the opportunity since the school was paying for the bills and the air conditioner was cool.

Yuko merely grinned at him. She was a grin personified, always grinning at everything half of the time. "I like the air conditioners," she said to which Shouto flicked her forehead for. It was an uncharacteristic action, different, like the field of a thousand white roses where you see the crimson one at the middle swaying idly with the breeze, so Yuko had to blink twice or was it thrice to make sure it was actually him.