✓LIFE SENTENCE|| TodoDeku Au

☆One☆

~ Third Person P.O.V ~

I've been screaming for years and no one has ever heard me.
―Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me

Two years.

Seven-hundred-thirty days had passed and yet he still felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. The intensifying ocean blue eyes calculating his every move, his every breath, every step, every syllable that pushed bast the blockades of his lips. Izuku Midoriya felt it all to this day . . . But that was okay, wasn't it? All of that meant he survived, it wasn't happening anymore but he still felt it — it was a sickening mnemonic that he survived.

It was almost quite humorous in a sense, he survived yet he never felt as though he were truly living. He survived only to have his whole life be shattered to pieces. Funny, right? They say he was brave —  strong, even — to go through such a 'traumatic experience'; but if that was the case why didn't he ever feel it? Izuku did not feel the lift in his chest of bravery, nor did he feel the tough beating of his heart for the word 'strong'.

He didn't feel a thing. All except the hot flashes of the memories he so desperately tried to suppress every day, the scathing touch of fingers and eyes all over him. Inspecting him. Berating him.

Izuku liked to compare his 'experience' to that of a child being afraid of the dark in their own room. Those monsters they fear lurking in the shadows of a once safe place, in hindsight to this they now feel as though nowhere is safe once the sun dips below the horizon; greeting the moon and stars to shine through. Their quivering bodies huddled up in the corner of their bed, blankets pulled tightly to them as they jolt at every small noise. However, unlike those children, Izuku didn't have a mother or father to run to when it all became too much.

No, his parents were too dead for that.

Everyone else surrounding him didn't truly comprehend what all went through his mind every second of every day, yet somehow, someway, his parents always did. His mother and father would steal the words from his mouth before his own tongue could push them out. Back then he hated it when they did that . . . but now?

He'd kill just to have them do it one last time.

At least he still had Bakugou, the only other person in his life that tried to understand him. That was patient with him, in spite of his personality, he still tried for his friend. And Izuku greatly appreciated it but . . . Of course, it was never enough — Izuku had been through too much, seen too much, felt too much.

Sometimes it seemed as though he were merely an empty shell of what he used to be. On the outside, he displayed a charismatic individual, always smiling, laughing; aside from the times he was actually left alone with his thoughts. Because when he was left alone . . . He was finally able to be the paltry remnant ghost of who he once was.

Like today.

Izuku's head gently pressed against the window of Bakugou's bedroom — seeing as though that's where he slept since the blond was off at college. Watching as the light pitter-patter of rain hit the transparent plates, his blanket wrapped protectively around his body as he continued to stare. The Bakugou residence was relatively stagnant that morning, Mitsuki huddled up in her office, Masaru off on a grocery run, and Katsuki just a few miles away on campus.

Leaving Izuku to do whatever he damn well pleased.

Slowly, the green-haired male hauls himself upward — covers still draped around him — as he shuffled his way down the hall towards Mitsukis makeshift office. Tentatively, Izuku pushes his way in finding Mitsuki hunched over her desk sifting through mounds of paperwork.

"Hey, honey," The blonde greets absentmindedly, looking up briefly whilst offering him a small smile. "Did you just wake up?" she questioned, taking in the male's exhausted nature.

"Yep," No. He had been awake since the crack of dawn, which was a few hours ago. "Do you have a lot of work?" he asked, trudging further into the room until he was standing next to her.

"Mhm, but for my favorite son, I can always make an exception," Mitsuki hummed, pulling her glasses off and opening her arms for him to crawl in. "And by that I mean if I have to sign off on another bill I'm going to snap my pen in half."

Izuku hesitated for a moment, the action falling upon blind eyes for Mitsuki hadn't realized it. Physical contact always managed to make his heart skip a beat, and his veins to be flooded with buckets of blood flowing from his erratic heartbeats. Then he had to remind himself where he was, who he was with, that he was safe.

A chuckle was pulled from Izuku's lips, a sound so foreign as it rumbled in his chest and extended outwards. "I think I'm a little too big for this Auntie," Izuku snickered, yet climbing into her lap nevertheless.

"I know . . . But Katsuki's too much of an asshole to do cute shit like this with me, so that leaves me with you." she jested, nestling her nose into the boy's thick curls. "How's your schoolwork coming along?"

Seeing as though Izuku rarely went outside, they opted for placing him in online college courses instead.

"Meh . . ." The younger grumbled, his mood shifting at the thought of school. "For my Design And Programming the Web class they have this special course you can take for a few months, it would really help me." he started, as he picked at the lint on Mitsuki's shoulder.

"But?" His aunt prodded.

"It's only available to those who live on campus and, which is pretty freaking stupid if you ask me. If I took the course it'd add onto credits, and I would have a higher chance of graduating early," Izuku explained, tightening his hold around the woman's neck.

Mitsuki drew her lip in between her teeth at the newly secured information, prompting a question she had been debating on asking the boy for a while now. "So what if you applied?"

"Hm? But it's only available to— "

"To students that live on campus, I know," she interrupted, knitting her brows together. "I spoke with your school's Dean . . . he said it's possible for you to still rent a dorm but have it be a singular."

Izuku pulled back, his face contorting from her words as he repeatedly opens and closes his mouth. His initial reaction to this up to date knowledge was to politely decline, to explain to her he just wasn't ready for human interaction outside of the family. However, he thought back to what his mother and father would have wanted — the life they prayed he would have. And so, with a deep and full influx of air he says the unthinkable.

"When can I move in?"

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

And so another book officially begins . . .

Y'all the amount of angst in this shit is concerning. While reading this I suggest you have a box of tissues on standby because you never know when my author abilities can strike.

I don't think these chapters will be long like 'Red Wine' maybe every now and then but they should be about the same length as 'The War Dividing Us'.

Until we meet again!!!