✓LIFE SENTENCE|| TodoDeku Au

☆Five☆

~ Third Person P.O.V ~ *Because apparently I like using my crappy quotes from my poetry journal*

"Bored. Listless. Such simplistic and natural words that one may use for a plethora of situations and people. None of which I'd use to describe you."
—BisexualCricket, In Her Poetry Journal

Shoto laid mindlessly on his bed, two-toned eyes uncloaking nothing to any onlooker who may have been staring at him. His breathing low and nearly imperceptible to his own ears as he maintained his gaze above him, calloused hands sprawled over his chest and stomach. The rhythmic pulse of his heart reverberating against the tips of his digits, like a miniature drum in his rib cage. He had lost sense of time since the beginning of him lying there, he knew it had to have been hours at least . . . but for all he knew, it could have been days. Time was a social construct for him.

He could hear the commotion of students coming and going, laughter reflecting off the walls of the dorm building. Most of them out there were enjoying themselves, smiling, and partying like there was no tomorrow — because after all . . . you only go to college once. Right? You only get to be young for so long. Right? Wrong, at least for Shoto it was. If he were being candid at the moment, the duel-haired male felt quite bitter over the whole ordeal; he envied every single one of them out there. They were all experiencing their firsts right now, whereas he was going through his sixths and sevenths . . . the list just went on. 

Sometimes it seemed as though he were stuck in a never-ending loop, like a scratched up CD that didn't want to play how it was supposed to. He'd find a new interest, go to school for it, do some good-paying jobs then after a few decades he'd find another hobby to take up. 

A thick fog began to grow in the base of his throat as he continued to let the reminiscent feeling of nostalgia overtake him. The past two centuries burying itself down the pits of his very existence as his eyes lingered in its original position on the ceiling. Two centuries of countless loss and grieving, causing a shift in his body — as if the burdens of his past were now literally weighing down on him.

Shoto was sinking.

Falling.

Drowning.

And there was nobody there with a safety net or life vest to help him.

Just as everything was about to influx over him, light raps sounded from his door in which inevitably pulled him back to surface. Sitting upright, he began to make his way over, flinging the door open which revealed a disheveled Kirishima.

"Hi . . . Todo . . . roki," The younger male gasped, gripping onto the frame of the door for support. "I need you to take this to the front office for me," 

With a cocked eyebrow, the duel-eyed man looks down at the slightly crumpled piece of paper resting in the redhead's hands. "What is it?" he questioned as he took the paper, pushing past his friend and making his way down the hall.

"I'm not sure, Professor Aizawa wanted me to drop it off but I got football practice and if I'm late coach Yagi will have my ass on a silver platter." Kirishima chuckled, taking off into a sprint the other direction.

For a second the corners of Shoto's lips twitched, wanting nothing more than to be brought up into a smile yet faltering only moments later. As he walked various students gave him small nods and cheerful hello's, all of which he'd respond to with a quick glance and pressed lips. After a few minutes of speed-walking, he made it to the front steps of the office, instantly spotting his blond friend and a small-framed freckled male talking with him.

"I don't know, Kacchan . . . I mean can you really, and truly say you trust this 'Todoroki'?" The green-haired male asked, prompting one frosted brow to raise on Shoto's face.

"Well, I would hope so," Shoto released a mixture between a scoff and snort — earning the attention of both males in the process. "Because this whole 'friendship' me and Bakugou seem to be in would be all for nothing if he didn't trust me."

A smirk made itself known on the rosy pink of Bakugou's lips while he playfully punched the elder's shoulder. "Fuck off, Half 'n Half," he chuckled lowly, a neutral response he used when he didn't know what else to say.

However, his retortion had fallen upon deaf ears, for Shoto was far too spellbound on the freckled male before him. He wasn't sure why, nor was he too fond of the unsettling and foreign feeling rumbling within him but . . . the boy was truly a wondrous sight to behold. And he didn't even know who the boy was!

"And you are . . . ?" Shoto drawled, gazing at the timid male with his conventional intense eyes.

The boy's eyes widened, delicate arms winding themselves across his middle like pale vines. His mouth opening yet only ghosts of words were breathed out, he looked scared out of his mind.

"This is my brother," Bakugou intervened, giving Shoto a pointed look before whispering. "Remember the one I told you about?"

Truth be told, the red-eyed blond was rather inexplicit when he had mentioned Izuku and his circumstances, all for good reasons Shoto assumed. For the little Bakugou had disclosed already sounded like a lot for one to have to go through . . . Shoto understood the death of a loved one all too well.

"Right, Midoriya wasn't it?"

Izuku gave a semi-controlled nod of his head, something about the elder's velvety voice had managed to soothe his nerves for a fraction of a second. His shoulders — which were once tensed and squared — had dropped to a more comfortable level. Of course, he still kept his distance, taking a few steps back so he was standing right at his brother's side.

"That reminds me," Shoto hummed as he went to the desk, placing the piece of paper down. "Why exactly were you two talking about me?" he queried, angling his head to the side.

"Something happened and I ended up getting placed in a dorm with you." Izuku informed him, his voice hardly detectable despite the room being so quiet.

At his words Shoto stiffened, more and more memories hitting him like an untamed force of nature. Raking through his body and nerves, laughter, smiles, all with bittersweet endings surfacing to the top. Yet on the outside? He appeared to be just fine.

"Oh," Were the only words that left the tip of his tongue as he pivoted on his heel. "Well if you decide to actually move in . . . Don't go through the top dresser,"

The tow watched as Shoto's retreating figure soon disappeared into the chaos of students swarming outside, leaving Izuku to dwell on his parting words. 

"Is he always that —"

"Intense?" Bakugou cut in, flickering his gaze back onto Izuku. "Yeah,"

It was quiescent for quite some time. The only sounds were from the clicking of the keyboard and the soft hum of the air conditioner turning on throughout the building. Finally, after careful consideration, Izuku said the two words that would be the start of something possibly life-changing:

"I'll stay,"    

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

Sorry for another later update. From now on I might just be posting at nighttime, seeing as though I'm so busy during the day.

Uhm, again kind of struggled with writing Shoto. I think I'm doing better, but for him . . . he's such a complex character that I fear I may be doing him such little justice when I write how he feels. What he goes through. And I don't want to do that.

How are we liking my shitty quotes from my poetry journal?

Until we meet again!!!