✓LIFE SENTENCE|| TodoDeku Au

☆Fourteen☆

~ Third Person P.O.V ~

"Falling. The first of many fear we ever have, falling from high structures onto hard pavement. Falling in love, into the sacrificial kisses of my loving devil . . ."
—BisexualCricket, Poetry Journal

I am so sorry . . . Izu angst ahead . . . (HEAVY TRIGGER WARNINGS)

At this point, Izuku wasn't sure what he was doing.

He and Shoto had grown to know a bit about one another — naturally, staying away from the heavier topics such as life before college, soulmates, etc. They still didn't know much about one another, as to be expected, yet they had a clear enough understanding that they both had gone through something before the met. It takes one to know one, as they say.

Yes, Izuku had made significant progress a few nights ago when he had hung out with everyone but . . . was that even enough? He pushed himself right into the belly of the beast that night, praying the outcome would be joyous and he wouldn't have to live in isolation anymore. Yet as soon as all the excitement came to a bittersweet end, he slipped right back down the rabbit hole. His mind once again becoming the relentless prison ward he had come to fear, trapping him behind the iron bars of his very existence. Of course, it only happened when he was alone.

And as of lately, Izuku had been alone for long periods of time. His Design and Programming the Web class had yet to begin, only a week left before it had started up and he'd have to attend a class with other students. Meaning when Shoto left, going who knows where all day, he was left to manage himself. His broken, damaged, tainted self.

God, he really hoped he would be better by now . . . that he still wouldn't have this plaguing feeling that he was still being watched. He could still feel the ghost of those damned keen and calculating blue eyes inspecting him, berating him, robbing him of all his dignity. Forceful and hot hands scathing across his skin with sinful intentions, a stinging sensation erupting throughout his entire body.

Fuck, he still felt it all to this day.

Without even realizing it, Izuku's hands flew up to his chest. However, unlike the other times, it wasn't to put himself through his 'daily hell' no — it was as if he were shielding the clothed body part. Protecting it from someone that wasn't even there anymore.

He's dead, Izuku.

So why did he still feel this way? His tormentor was gone, deceased, kicked the fucking bucket — whatever the hell you want to call it; so why the hell was he still broken?! Izuku's mind, body, and soul was far beyond repair at this point and the person to blame had been dead for two years! And it seemed as though with each passing day, instead of getting better he was getting worse. 

The worst part about this is for a brief second . . . that one night, he thought he'd be okay. Not only did he hang out with strangers, but got chased by police officers, he let Shoto — the mysterious, handsome, two-centuries-year-old man touch him. Without, nearly, any complications. Izuku had felt something that night, he hadn't felt in a long time — 

He felt hope.

But just as every other positive emotion he had once held onto, that spark of hope did not flicker into a burning flame it died out instead. The crumbled, weak, and pathetic ashes surging through his nerves and painting his glass heart a deep-rooted black. Izuku had done everything in his power to keep that small spark of fire alive; because by now those emotions that flooded him the past few years had grown frigid to the touch — and he was so damn cold.

Izuku's eyes flickered over towards the dorm door for the hundredth time, praying for someone — anyone at this point — would show up. As long as he wasn't alone the sinking feeling wouldn't shadow him as much, but the more he was by himself the stronger it got. He was holding on by the thinnest of strings, dangling over the treacherous profundity waters below — which were teeming with every insecurity, dark feeling, and weaknesses Izuku had.