~ Third Person P.O.V ~

"I. Love. You. Individually, the words have no meaning. Together, they are powerful . . ."
—BisexualCricket, Poetry Journal

Izuku found himself getting lost in the breathtaking beauty known as Shoto Todoroki.

It was still rather late at night. The moon had stealthily crept through the thin, silky, fabric of the drapes and into the room—carving Shoto's face in its humble and unfretted glow. Unintelligible shapes danced across the elder man, painting the smooth canvas of his skin in shadows of all sorts; however, the blotches of black that clashed with the pale white of his flesh somehow only added onto that beauty Izuku found. His breathing was even, welcoming in the cool air from the vents overhead and exhaling the old. 

The younger had been unfortunately cursed with little to no sleep in the past few hours, unlike his soulmate. Fortunately, this gave him the time he so desperately needed to sort through a few topics that had been plaguing him lately. In a good way or a bad—he had yet to decide where to categorize them yet.

For starters, he had been contemplating on what to do in regards to his ex. To be rather frank, Izuku did not have the best of feelings when it came down to going back to the city; for he knew the minute they drove into the city lines he was nothing but a man with a target on his back. A dead man.

However, based on the exceptional amounts of progress he had made—both mentally and emotionally—he extrapolated that when the time came . . . he would be ready. For when he set forth to accomplish this endeavor he would not be doing it alone. He'd have Shoto.

Still, he could not help but conjecture how one would even go about doing such a task. The mere notion still managed to make the pits of his stomach twist and unfurl out of dread and trepidation. Nevertheless, Izuku had the most confidence that in the end, everything would work itself out nicely.

Because he had no clue what the hell he would do if it didn't.

Halcyon pools of emerald fluttered over towards the sleeping male beside him once more, a new twisting forming in the pit of his stomach. Unlike before, the feeling somehow conjured a brief flicker of a smile to twist onto Izuku's lips—lighting his features fleetingly only to dissipate as quickly as it had come. The pristine, brand-new, sensation had begun to make itself presentable within the past few days of their arrival at the farm. It perplexed him at first; he was not able to make an exact definition for the feeling, until recently.

It was attraction.

Sure, he had felt attraction towards Shoto for quite some time now. Except as opposed to how he felt weeks ago, there was a noticeable shift in how he felt—which had obfuscated the initial attraction entirely; making it nearly impossible for him to elucidate it. Abruptly, the once bland and banal emotion he felt had time and time again in the past had raw and potent. Eliciting a swirl of complimentary emotions he had never been given the proper time to grasp and comprehend.

Emotions like: desire, lust, love.

Fuck, Izuku knew without a doubt he was in love. He knew without a doubt he was floating in an endless sea of love, every wave and current that had pulled and pushed against him only adding onto that love. It was enticing and exhilarating, yet palm-sweating and fear-coating just the same. Never in a million years did he ever expect to find such a person—a person who managed to not only make him feel safe but make him feel loved. Then he met Shoto, and all those worries and doubts seemed to fade away.

A grimace licked the base of Izuku's lips as his thoughts drifted back to before . . . how he felt lust. The one emotion he had ruled out entirely for himself, lust, desire, and intimacy in any way shape, or form were not allowed. No, he had put the thickest of barriers up around those specific topics with good intentions of keeping them locked away for the rest of his life. For someone had stripped those away from him long ago, making him believe he would never get them back.

But now? Now, the emotions were so intense and distracting—only because they were new and fresh as they trickled into his body. Overtaking his senses. Clouding his cogent thoughts. 

And while he definitely didn't want sex anytime soon, for that was a big step he just wasn't ready for, didn't mean he didn't want the in-between. It was silly to ponder, but he couldn't help but think about stealing chaste kisses here and there. Letting his hands wander without feeling self-conscious . . . letting Shoto's hands wander without him thinking he was uncomfortable.

Does that make me a bad person?

Izuku knew the question was more than imprudent, however, the illogical part of him was rather loud. He had spent so much time and energy into fabricating these walls and barriers that he thought would protect them. He had spent so much time and energy into convincing himself that feeling lust and desire was something he'd never have the pleasure of experiencing. That it was bad.

Only for him to turn around and feel the very emotions he had tried so desperately to repress. 

Of course, he knew that was his unease catching up to him in the swirl of new sensations and emotions shrouding his mind. So, without putting any further thought into his newly-discovered anxiety he refocuses back onto the sleeping man.

Shoto's hair had fanned over his face in the past few minutes, the air from the ventilation system had picked up its speed—blowing the out-grown locks into his face with ease. Carmine and pure-white tangled with one another, over his brows, eyes, mysterious scar that adorned his face.

Damn, Izuku would never grow tired of looking at him.

His stomach churned once more, muscles locking and lips pressing firmly together as he opened his mouth. "Shoto," he whispered, only to receive a small shift in the elder's face only for it to smooth over after a few seconds.

He was still sleeping.

"I know you can't hear me . . . but . . . I love you," Izuku continued. Mainly using this opportunity to say the words out loud without the fear of Shoto being awake.

Finally, he let his eyes slip close. The only noise filling his ears was the soft whirr of the air and the muffled chirps of crickets wandering around aimlessly in the large fields outside. Sleep was mere seconds away from the younger when he was jolted by the bed shifting. His eyes did not open, however, only remaining closed—determined to find the peaceful blanket of slumber.

"Say that again,"

Shoto's hoarse voice veiled thickly into the once tranquil atmosphere, penetrating it with such a powerful force. His body was set on high-alert, in spite of the fatigue that still was still obdurately attempting to force him back into sleep. But he couldn't. Once he heard those three little words every nerve in his body had been electrified, sending jolts of energy through him in pulsing waves.

At first, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him. But after a while, he knew better . . . he knew.

Izuku loved him.

"I love you," the freckled male's eyes remained closed, squinting now as he cringed away from Shoto. As if he was expecting some sort of anger-filled backlash.     

The younger's eyes finally fluttered open when he felt a weight press into his body, looking up to see Shoto's heterochromatic eyes staring down at him with vehemence. "Again," the word came out shakily, pleading instead of commanding—making Izuku's stomach lurch and twist yet again.

"I love you, Shoto Todoroki." Izuku affirmed, reaching up and cupping his face. "So much,"

Shoto leaned down, kissing him once on the lips, then the cheek, forehead, the other cheek, and his lips one last time. "Keep talking," he murmured, sensing the younger had more to say.

"I'm sorry," Shoto hadn't expected that either way, he kept kissing the boy's face and letting him speak. "Sorry that it took this long for me to finally realize that, because I love you so fucking much. Without you, I feel so lost and vulnerable—but when I'm with you . . . you make me feel invincible. You've opened my heart up to the idea of new possibilities, new emotions, new thoughts."

"And I know it's four in the morning, which isn't the ideal time to be professing my love but—the way I was feeling, it just couldn't wait . . . you know? It was something that I had to do, something that I had to make sure you knew."

Admittedly, Shoto was still rather exhausted . . . but he understood Izuku as if he were wide-awake. Soaking in each syllable, word, and sentence with such ease; hell, he was basking in them, relishing in them. And here he was, worrying over something so silly as to whether or not Izuku's feelings for him were as deep as his was. Shoto could nearly laugh at the thought now.

Because Izuku loved him.

And fuck, he loved him too. More than anyone could possibly love someone, in fact.

"In case it isn't obvious, I didn't get much sleep. But that gave me the time to not only think about us . . . but about everything else," his words had dropped an octave, cracking the picture-perfect atmosphere slightly. "Look, I really don't know what we're going to do about Monoma. But honestly? I kind of don't care—well, I do—but not like I used to; he can do whatever the hell he damn well pleases, all I know is that as long as I have you by my side I can face anything,"

Shoto took Izuku's face in his hands, gently guiding the boy off his back so they were sitting across from each other. "I love you . . . more than life itself. And, you right, as long as we have each other we can overcome any obstacle. I'm so proud of you, honey," 

"Really?" the questions came out more shy than Izuku had intended. But he could not help but feel a twinge of sheepishness at the elder's praise.

"Really," Shoto repeated firmly. "If something like this had happened before you met me, how do you think you would have responded?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light yet horribly failing.

The younger was quiet for a moment, his fingers looping around the loose strands in the blanket as he pondered the question. "Honestly? Two months ago I was in such a dark place, I probably would have done something . . . something I would come to regret." he admitted, albeit no shame was in his tone like the other times he had spoken of that particular chapter in his life.

No, he was beginning to understand that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Because it was not his fault . . . and he overcame it because of Shoto.

"But look at you now," Shoto whispered, curling his index finger underneath the boy's chin and lifting it up. "I told you I'd help you a little while ago. But Izuku, you did this all on your own—I was just there to guide you,"

"Thank you," 

A twisted smile flickered across Shoto's face at the two words, tempted to use the proper reply yet deciding against it. "For what? I haven't don't anything yet," he teased.

Izuku rolled his eyes, warmth blooming in his chest as a laugh escaped his lips and into the crisp air. 

"You tired?" the freckled college student asked with a sigh. "'Cause I'm beat,"

"You just told me you loved me and expect me to go back to sleep? Hell no, I'm wide awake!" Shoto exclaimed, raking his hand through his hair—tousling it.

The younger heaved another sigh, leaning over on his side of the bed to flip on the lamp switch. A dull yellow glow clashing with the beauty of the moon's light, taking away its breathtaking shadows. 

It was quiet for a moment. Shoto had occupied himself by playing with the long curls of Izuku's hair, twisting them around his fingers until they were taut and silky before allowing them to unfurl with a subtle bounce. Only to soon stop when Izuku had begun speaking.

"I was wondering . . ." he began, closing the space between them and sitting on Shoto's lap. ". . . You can always so no but, do you think you could tell me more about the past two centuries?"

Shoto went rigid, a pang of anxiety burgeoning within him as he mulled over what to say next. "I—Uhm . . . okay," he finally whispered, "It's hard to tell, can I just show you?"

Tilting his head, Izuku gazes at him with curious eyes; a plethora of questions swimming in the deep depths of his emerald pools. 

Without another word gracing his mouth, Shoto intertwined their fingers while dragging him out of the room and into the dark house—flipping on light switches as they went along. As they walked past the living room and kitchen and over onto the other side of the house they stopped right outside the rows of guest bedrooms; right in front of a door, a door Shoto had never shown the younger.

Curiosity burned through the seams of Izuku's body as the elder opened the door, the hinges creaking and groaning. A set of stairs rest before them, whatever lied ahead was shrouded in the pitch blackness of the room. As they walked up the wooden floorboards of the stairs clicked at their weight, threatening to shatter if they added more.

The air veiling them tasted of dust and the ozone tang of cold metal. Once they reached the top, Shot had pulled on the light bulb's metal string—a dulled flickering light barely lighting the area. It was an attic. Thick layers of dust coated every box, flooring, air, and wooden beams on the ceiling.

A small window lay in the far corner, letting some of the moon's luminescent shine to peek through. However, the light only carried so far; for some parts of the attic was still cloaked in darkness.

"Here it is," Shoto whispered, "Every single piece of paper, every object, every photo, old clothes . . . it's all here."

"Well, we got all night to go through this. Right?" Izuku beamed, offering the male a long side-glance.

"Right,"    

Hello Cricket Cultists!!

Can we just appreciate the character growth here?

Next chapter might be the last one of them at the farmhouse tbh, then they have to go back to the city :( I'm so excited!

Questions(about anything really)?

Comments?

Until we meet again!!!