the only exception | bakugou katsuki

23 | starless weathers

The weather's nice today.

The firmament was cerulean and the clouds were marshmallows, yet they didn't burn with boorish black ooze on the edges from the sun hiding behind the blankets. And yes, the weather's nice because the sun wasn't glaring into anyone's eyes but to glare through the gaps of the burning marshmallows to form rays of light that might shine on anyone's day.

Yuna believed she was either both of them; sunshines and marshmallows. The ability to breathe sunlight when her soul was already dying and cremating her bones. The ability to give everyone that overbearing light they didn't need even if she wanted to because she wanted the cause of everyone's real smile to be hers, not the judgement behind their fake cruel smiles with eyes of disgust.

The subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to her surroundings as a seal on a beach—lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognize the ambient roar of her intended habitat, in which she'd be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home.

Everything was back to normal, except that the clouds had covered the sun which was why she thought, the weather's nice!

But it wasn't. It wasn't nice. It wasn't soothing.

It was gloomy. It was dull. It was looming.

Perhaps something in the sky was missing. Maybe the birds or planes or fireworks. (No way there'd be fireworks during the day.) Maybe angels or gods. Or maybe the sky was another piece of artwork ready to be remastered by another layer of tones of blues with dabs of cream.

So that's why Yuna got out of class during lunch—to refuel the inspiration for the next painting waiting to be displayed for the sky.

She walked into the bathroom without a thought, thanked the gods for it to be empty before entering one of the cubicles and sat down, letting her thoughts sleep just for that moment as a tired sigh left her frowny lips—unlikely for someone who was born from the sun.

Everything looked fine. But why does it feel like it's not?

The kind of feeling where you sit in a place where it used to be loud and the air was free—like sitting in a place where people used to hang out but is now abandoned and forgotten, and when you plan to visit the place where memories were made through laughs and tears, it will feel a whole lot different than the last time you were there.

Like something was missing—just like how the sky was.

A kind of attachment she was used to that now it feels fruitless—a crater carved solely on her chest, waiting for someone to fill it for her—except that now, she was filling it herself and solely for herself. Because she wanted this. She asked for this.

Yuna almost laughed—at least it was working right?

Her smile faltered a little as she looked down on her hands.

But why does it hurt?

__________

The weather's shit today.

The firmament was a fake disgusting blue with smoky grey clouds that covered the sun, completely blocking out the rays of light that were supposed to shine on days like this. And yes, the weather's shit because everything was so fucking dark. Obscurations were everywhere—it was unpleasant, and the sun did nothing to part the clouds—just hiding without a reason to until its breath accumulated and rained.

Bakugou believed the sun was no better than the other—the sun that he knew, the kind of sun that will part the clouds and tame the city even in the city night without countless others and many more in the universe. The ability to shine countlessly within a universe—no, not the solar system, not the galaxy but a whole fucking entirety of everyone's existence. A god(dess) meant for a bright cerulean sky with marshmallow clouds.