✓LIFE SENTENCE|| TodoDeku Au

☆Thirteen☆

~ Third Person P.O.V ~

"Should I ever find time, muster the courage - I'd say everything that perturbs me. Should you ever find time, muster the courage - maybe you could listen to what I have to say . . ."
—BisexualCricket, Poetry Journal

Love did not exist without fear.

Shoto's feet pounded against the ruptured and demolished pavement below him, yelps and soft sobbing pooling from his mouth. More ear-shattering explosions sounding off nearby, the duel-haired boy doing his best to dodge and weave past them in fear of being hit — a deep influx of air involuntarily pooled through his lungs at that very moment, causing a series of coughs to erupt. He dismissed the thick, red, liquid pooling down his thigh as he ran heterochromatic eyes sharp as he found who he was searching for.

Fear only existed when you had something to lose.

There was a small barrier constructed only a few yards away, made of shattering cement as well as other unidentified items. Men's shouting could be detected from close by, some calling out orders while others bellowed at their troops to retreat, airplane propellers roaring overhead; the pandemonium noises blending together in the thick atmosphere, soon morphing into the obbligato music to Shoto's racing mind. Fear had soon become thinly veiled across his vision as his legs carried him faster to his destination, feeling the shifting and dying earth beneath him. Paranoia entered the barricaded organ of his heart, influxes of the engulfing emotion swirling with the fresh blood being discharged into his veins. And anxiety . . . Fuck, his windpipe had felt as though it were slowly being crushed with each passing second.

And when you had something to lose . . .

Gray and turquoise eyes widened at the sight displayed before him, in spite of the blazing heart enclosing him his body went frozen to the touch. Bitter streams pooling down his back, over his shoulder-blades, wrapping around the fragile yet thick cervix of his neck. God, he prayed so fucking hard this was a dream . . . that he'd wake up secure in his bed . . . that he wasn't dead.

. . . You'd do anything to protect it.

Tentatively kneeling down, Shoto ignored the bullets ricocheting off the ground beside him — knowing they would have no impact on whether he lived or died. It was rather bovine to use the metal ammunition against him. Hot floods of salty tears laced the rims of his eyes slowly, turning the skin surrounding it a light hue of red. His limbs went slack on either side of him, bloodied lips parted and nostrils flared . . . little by little his vision had begun to gloss over. It was almost as if he were looking through a dark veil, the diaphanous fabric attempting to shield him from the sight before him.

Until one day you can't anymore.

His bruised hands slid across the dirt and under the head of the dead body lying in front of him, slowly bringing it up to his lap carefully. Shoto's fingers ran through the spiked and ebony locks of hair with great delicacy, droplets of tears cascading down onto the ashen face below him. By now Shoto's entire body had begun to vibrate, shaking in sync with the gut-wrenching sobs erupting past his lips — the sounds getting lost within the turmoil around him. The bones of his teeth pierced his lower lip, blood that had been residing on the piece of flesh dripping into his mouth; but he couldn't be bothered by the coppery taste at the moment. 

Leaving you a broken, pile of nothing.

"Please," Shoto gasped, his voice hoarse and almost inaudible. "You promised you'd never leave me . . ."

Memories plagued his thoughts like a deadly virus, corrupting every nerve and fiber in his body at that very moment. The bitter and nostalgic taste of those memories exuding into his sobs as he hugged the boy in his arms tighter.

"You're like my big brother, I love you . . . Touya . . ."

≣

Shoto's body jerked forwards in his bed, beads of perspiration rolling slick off his forehead and down his face, coating his skin in a shiny sheen. Broad hands ran up and down his face as he heaved a sigh, his fingers curling in the dampened strands of his two-toned locks. It had only been a nightmare . . . he almost forgot what those had felt like. 

His eyes flickered over to the digital clock on his nightstand, the numbers illuminating his room in a dim green, 4:19 a.m., it read. After a few moments of rapidly blinking, he had soon realized where he was, brief flashes from the previous night coming to the forefront of his mind.

Reluctantly, Shoto pulled himself from his bed, the bottoms of his feet tingling as the arctic sensation of his hardwood floors nipped away at any warmth his body once had. Once he had out the door he instantly spotted his friends, Sero, Kaminari, and Ashido were sprawled out on different areas on his couch — the trio's snoring filling the living room. His guest room resided on the other side of the living room, the door opened wide to reveal a sleeping Kirishima and Bakugou . . . But where was Izuku?

The soft clatter of cabinets opening reached his ears in a muted noise behind the kitchen door, shadows from footprints could be detected from underneath the crack in the door. Shoto instantly walked in, fiding Izuku pouring himself a cup of coffee whilst leaning against the counter.

Izuku's eyes widened as the elder walked in, a light tint of pink rushing to his face. "Sorry . . . I couldn't sleep, and I seen all this coffee in the cabinets so then I decided to make some. In my defense I was half-sleep, and I really wanted coffee I hope you don't —" he rambled, only to be silenced when Shoto strode across the room.

Reaching past Izuku, he grabbed a mug from the cabinet behind him, pouring himself a glass as well. "Don't make such a fuss about it, it's just coffee," Shoto replied as he took a sip, "Did you have another nightmare?"

The younger nodded his head, taking a few steps sideways so they weren't as close anymore.

"Let me guess, you were up all night?" Izuku countered, remembering their short conversation from the other day when he had a nightmare.

"Yep,"

No.

"I'm not stupid," Izuku chuckled, "Dense . . . maybe, but not stupid."

Arching a brow, Shoto tilted his head to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"You're sweaty, your breathing was really hard before you walked in, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking . . . I know what it looks like when someone just had a really bad dream," Izuku whispered, his emerald eyes trickling downwards as he spoke. "You don't have to talk about it . . . just don't lie next time."

Shoto gaped at him, eyes blinking a few times before he inhaled deeply. And for a split second —

He could have sworn he heard Touya talking to him. 

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

Sorry for the late updates y'all!

Like . . . can we see the small character development Izu is making? He starting to come out of his shell around Todo more, and it really has to do with what happened when they were being chased by police officers. I liked that I added that because when Izuku was frozen in place, he would have been arrested on the spot - he didn't even think Shoto would care if he did or not. So not only did Todo come back and help him get over the gate, but he also held onto him while they ran . . . For Izu that meant a lot, because it showed that Todo cared - even though they barely know each other.

Anywho . . . enough with my rant.

Oh yeah! Shoto theories???

Until we meet again!!!