~ Third Person P.O.V ~

"Space. A word that can be altered into many forms, a word he once longed for. Close. Another word that can be altered, a word he once loathed. Now? Space is a concept so foreign to him . . ."
—BisexualCricket, Poetry Journal

For Shoto, life was a curse bestowed upon him from whoever controlled the conceptualization of soulmates.      

Some people, those who crave the 'power' of having years and years before meeting their soulmate—years of relishing in their undying youth—would kill to be in his spot. Forever eighteen. The eternal flame of life coursing through their veins, the sense of power and dignity it would give them . . . It was something most people desired. In the world they lived in, a world filled with selfishness, hatred, and death—being able to live was a prize, a blessing sent from those above.

Life and death.

Elderly and youth.

Love and loneliness. 

These six things played a big factor in everyday society, they determined who you are as a person and where you stood. They were evenly divided factors at that; death, elderly, and love were concepts some people wanted. A chance at finding the one you are destined for, to grow old with one another, to die with one another—it was a fairy tale dream come true. Whereas, life, youth, and loneliness were a forbidden desire wanted by most . . . tainting a once beautiful world in ugliness and hate.

Shoto had always wondered what he did in a past life to deserve such a thing, to be given the curse of eternal youth. And as the days turned to weeks, the weeks into months, and the months to years the word shifted around him as he remained the same—unmoving, unchanging. Forever eighteen. 

Life and death were two notions Shoto pondered more than anything else, for a while the thought of having a soulmate was nothing but a waste of time to him. This person that had not even graced the earth yet was the determining factor on the matters of his soul. This person that had not yet seen the horrors and wonders he has was the reason for him experiencing it all in the first place. All because they weren't alive yet.

He loathed his soulmate for a few decades, hated whoever they were for being the sole reason for his undying flame of youth. Why him? What made this person so special that they got the easy way out? They would not have to wait as long as he had, they would not have to endure countless wars, see the hundreds and thousands of deaths of loved ones. Whoever his soulmate was got te option of the easy route, most likely wait a few years then they'd be gifted with life.

However, all that changed quite some time ago . . . in another lifetime. For Shoto had seen secondhand what it truly meant to have a soulmate, to have someone you would die for, someone you would live for, someone you would do anything for. He had seen a plethora of soldiers, men, women, basic citizens, give their everything just so their other half could thrive.  So they could see the light of another day.

Because of this, Shoto found himself asking a one-word question; over and over again.

Why?

This one word had been altered into countless notions, queries, and beliefs throughout Shoto's time. Naturally, they were all traced back to its origin . . . that fateful day all those years ago. The death of another, the death of a loved one, was the only way he was able to see the purpose of soulmates. As horrid as it may be, because of that death he was able to realize the meaning of his curse. His undying flame of youth. Shoto's revelation that day came in such small dosages, however, just enough to aid him in his understanding of why his curse would one day become a blessing.

And now, sitting here in Izuku's presence, those small dosages form before erupted within him like a wildfire. Destroying and taking over any and everything in its path, consuming him, devouring him until there was nothing but love, excitement, and fear in replacement of him. 

Now, looking back onto the day they met Shoto could tell he fell in love with him then. He had blindly mistaken his feelings for curiosity, some unknown pull within him that found Izuku so intriguing and alluring. But, he knew better now . . . Everything the boy did was amazing in his eyes, even when he failed, even when he snapped, cried, or broke down. 

Shoto loved Izuku's stubbornness, how when he was determined to do something he did it—no matter the consequences that followed. Shoto loved Izuku's humor and sarcasm, the sly smirk or smile that rose onto his mouth whenever he teased the elder. Shoto loved Izuku's intelligence, how he was able to uphold long conversation ranging at a plethora of topics for hours without end.

Shoto loved Izuku. 

It was amusing to think about now, that he had done the very thing he could never imagine himself doing before. Falling in love.

He planned to hold off on telling the boy. To allow Izuku to work out the onslaught of problems he had right now, rather than adding another onto his plate.

But here they were.

Shoto was hyperaware of everything happening at that moment. The droplets of water trickling down Izuku's neck and forehead, the uneven stream of the younger breathing, the shocked expression laced onto his face. He wasn't sure what to make of Izuku's reaction to his own words, albeit he could tell his prolonging silence was not aiding him in his anxiety.

"I . . ." he breathed, not even knowing where to begin. ". . . When did you figure it out?" Shoto asked, opting for asking the obvious instead.

"You knew?" Izuku scoffed, "For how long?"

"A few hours . . ." Shoto responded robotically, his mind slowly taking in the information brought to him. The worst few hours of my goddamn life. "Before you ask: No, I wasn't going to tell you," he answered the younger's unspoken question.

Izuku breath hitched, the tears that were leaking from his eyes pulling to a halt before cascading down his cheeks once again. "Why?" he sniffed, a myriad of possible reasons floating through him.

I'm not good enough for him.

He knows about Monoma . . . He couldn't possibly want someone so damaged and tainted.

Shoto deserves better than what I can give him.

The elder got up, taking Izuku's hands into his own and leading back down onto the bed. "I don't want you getting the wrong idea, It's not that I didn't want to tell you . . . Honestly, these past few hours have been hell for me—but you already have enough going on. I didn't want to add more onto your plate," Shoto said softly, rubbing his thumb across Izuku's palm in circular motions.

Izuku went rigid momentarily, surprise and perplexity shooting up his spine in cold—yet hot— flares. This wasn't the answer he had expected, this wasn't anything he had expected if he were being candid. That could not possibly be Shoto's intentions, no, there was no rational way to explain that.

. . . Nobody could care for him in that way, right? 

Thinking back on it all, on this past month . . . Izuku had never felt more alive. Constantly being showered with love, acceptance, patience, and comfort; it was more than he could have ever asked for in life. And at first, Izuku couldn't understand it—he could not understand why a complete stranger would go through such great lengths in order to restore whatever sense of self-worth, self-love, and dignity he had left. No matter how hard he tried to come up with better reasoning he never found one.

Until a few weeks ago. Shoto had helped him through a panic attack, the worst one he had ever had in quite some time . . . The soothing, velvety voice and touch only the elder could provide had coaxed him out of his rabbit hole. Shoto had done the unimaginable that day, and Izuku knew with all his heart he trusted him, he could confide in him, he could one day love him.

It wasn't only until recently that he had begun to realize that love he could one day see himself having had manifested, it grew rapidly into something more . . . something he longed for.

Someone to love him romantically.

"I know you're putting on a brave face, and that you don't want to let any of it out. And the last thing you need is to have to worry about me or us and where we stand relationship-wise . . . So, I was going to wait until we figured out this whole Monoma situation," Shoto continued, sweeping his hands up to cup the sides of Izuku's face.

"But I want you to know something, I care so much about you Izuku Midoriya. Whether you want to pursue something with me one day or not. You're my reason for ever even existing, and you've given me the greatest gift of all . . . Izuku you gave me life," Shoto chuckled teary-eyed. "And I understand if you need some time to think about everything now that you know, or if you want space you can have that, too. I just want you to be happy,"

Space.

Izuku loathed that word more than anything now, he didn't want any space between them. Mind, body, and soul alike—he wanted them together. Shoto was the predominant reason for him ever making it this far in life, in spite of the setbacks . . . And when life gave Izuku lemons, he told life to shut the fuck up and threw them back. He would have never been able to do that without the elder. So, he didn't want space. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Izuku wrapped his arms around Shoto's middle—nuzzling his face into the male's neck.

"I don't want to have any space between us," Izuku began, "I don't want any time to think. Damn it . . . I want you . . . I need you, now more than ever. I know that I've been brushing everything off . . . But that's because I'm scared, Shoto—but when I'm with you I don't feel so scared anymore,"

Izuku's grip became tighter, their bodies drawing closer until minimal physical contact was a foreign concept to them. "That's your gift to me, you gave me fearlessness. I'm brave when I'm with you, I'm happy when I'm with you, I'm myself . . . when I'm with you. Don't take that away—I don't want you to go away," he whimpered, hoping that his words would be enough to convince the elder.

It was quiet in the room after that. The faint dripping of the showerhead in the bathroom echoing off the walls.

Drip, drip, drop.

The deafening drum known as Izuku's heart pumped blood ten times the normal amount for him as he awaited what would happen next.

Drip, drip, drop.

Every fear or doubt he had slowly manifested in size and power with Shoto's persevering silence that coated the room.

Drip, drip, drop.

The freckled male held his breath as he heard Shoto's quiet hum resonating in the base of his neck, signaling he was about to speak.

"Are you sure?"

It didn't take Izuku long to realize what Shoto was asking . . . Was he sure he wanted this? Was he sure he wanted to take on everything despite the problem they had yet to fully face? Was he sure he wanted Shoto?

"I'm not sure of a lot of things, like how we're going to withstand Monoma, or if you really do want me. But I am sure of how I feel about you now . . . and I just hope for my sake that you aren't lying," Izuku whispered, still not entirely convinced Shoto's feelings for him were real.

Shoto's warm, cold, hands gripped Izuku's body tighter than before—pulling back so he could look the male dead in the eyes. "As long as I'm alive I'll want you, whether that be as a brother, a friend . . . a lover. Would I prefer the latter? Yes. But you're calling the shots here," he affirmed.

". . . I want to try, for the last part . . . I care about you, too," Izuku whispered, finally beginning to relax in the elder's touch.

It wasn't much, but it was a start for them.  

Present(ly wondering where mah Cultists are???)

I think one of the hardest parts of being a writer is trying to make your readers feel what the characters are feeling. I've been trying something different in this book, and that's trying to make you guys get sucked in these chapters that you feel what they're feeling.

Now I noticed that for me, whenever a really tough scene comes on in a book on here or a real book in my hands - there is a rarely an author who can truly make me feel that way. And I noticed it has something to do with the monologue writing. When they write the in between paragraphs, monologues nine times out of ten that particular part is very dull and calm rather than what's actually happening in the scene itself. So I've been trying to tweak how I write those and see if it actually works or not.

Like this chapter for example, in the beginning we got how Shoto use to feel before he met Izuku. The we sped up to where he was now, it was faltering and rocky only because he was trying to process how to even respond to what Izuku was saying - so many things he wanted to voice yet knew he couldn't just yet.

Then when we got to Izuku and how he was feeling, he was all over the place - as to be expected. He wasn't sure how to handle the situation at hand, did Shoto care about him? There was no way in hell he could ever want someone like Izuku, right? But I tried to transition this all in a way that would be easy to understand.

Which was really fucking hard.

Then I also knew that them specifically saying words like boyfriend, dating, and I love you wouldn't be an option. As much as they may not want to think about, they do have a lot going on . . . but they do know, however, that they'll need each other. They want to feel love, comfort, and affection. But it'll take a while for them to use the official terms.

Anywho, sorry for my author rant.

I know I keep saying this but, I am sooo excited stoked for these chapters at the farmhouse. Like . . . fluff, angst, smu- *mic feed back that's hella loud* Oh, did you guys not hear that last part? I said smu- *Unholy  screeching in the background*

Sorry for those technical difficulties, you'll just have to wait and see what I'm planning ;)

Until we meet again!!!