Bakugou stared at the half-written essay on the screen of his laptop. His mind implored him to buckle down and finish the remainder of the essay immediately, but his body faltered in his chair at the intimidating thought.

I feel so damn burnt out, Bakugou thought to himself. But I'm only starting to realize it when my workload ain't even that much compared to other weeks. I can't possibly be burnt out yet, though. Goddammit. I'm so sick of this mind-numbing shit. I gotta do something else before I break down over this. I wonder what Shouto's up to. He hasn't been in our room for a few hours.

Bakugou ambled out of the room he shared with his fiancé, and in a gruff sigh, he called, "Shouto?" He rubbed his eyes and walked down the short hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom. "Sh—"

Thin strands of crimson and white hair were fanned across the floor with some overlapping each other. Lying face-down on the floor in a rectangular veil of orange twilight was Todoroki. His head was slightly tilted to the side facing away from Bakugou, and his arms formed a rough diamond shape around his head.

The rhythm of Bakugou's heart screeched into a frantic shiver of reverberating bumps as he tore across the apartment to reach Todoroki. "Oi!" cried the ash-blonde. "Shouto!" His knees slammed against the floor as he rocked Todoroki's body back and forth.

Don't fucking tell me you overdosed again. You were doing so fucking well. Did I not realize something else was going o—

A soft groan hissed up from the floor, and with a sharp inhale, Todoroki lifted his head from the floor and groggily blinked. "Kat…what's wrong?" His eyes drooped shut again, but he promptly tore them open to peer up at his lover.

Thank fuck… Thank fuck… God, I got so fucking worried. Fucking. Hell…

Bakugou slowly emptied out the air in his chest. "Just…thought you might've overdosed or something. Fuck. What the hell are you doing on the floor?" He tousled Todoroki's hair.

You're the only asshole I know that can look so hot just lying on the goddamn floor, Bakugou internally growled. And that sleepy face to go along with it…

"The sunlight felt nice. So, I took a nap on the floor," Todoroki murmured nonchalantly. "I should've brought my futon out here. Sorry I scared you. I haven't relapsed yet." His half-opened eyes scanned up to the faint smudges of pink illuminating Bakugou's cheeks. "Is the sunlight burning you already? Your cheeks are pink."

"Oh, fuck you," innocuously sibilated Bakugou. "Oi, oi, oi, is that a fucking smile?! Oh, you asshole. Don't you widen that fucking smile!" He twined his fingers with Todoroki's soft, sun-kissed hands and pinned him to the floor beneath him.

Todoroki's eyes glistened with the glow of a flame. "Then why are you blushing more, Love?" He canted his head to the side.

You only call me 'Love' when you're trying to tease me and get the best of me. You piece of shit. I fucking love you.

"Die," Bakugou snarled with an alluring smirk gracing his lips. "I hate you."

"Translation: 'I'm flustered. I love you.'"

"Oh, shut up… Asshole."

"Make m—mm…" Todoroki's words were enveloped by Bakugou's warm lips.

He seems…so much more talkative and soft than before, Bakugou realized as his lips parted from Todoroki's and rolled back over them. But are his smiles even real? He and Todoroki tilted their heads, deepening their ardent kiss. Told me he didn't really like it when our tongues are involved here. I respect that.

Once their lips slowly retreated, Bakugou stared down at his fiancé, who was no longer smiling. "Feelin' okay?" he queried while lowering his brows and glancing up to his hands to see that the heels of his palms were pressing into Todoroki's wrists.

Todoroki nodded, but the smile he draped over his expression was blatantly feigned. "Yeah," he sighed. "All right. I lied. I know you're not convinced. I just can't wrap my head around why you want to marry someone that can't reciprocate your love." His hands shifted in Bakugou's grasp, easing a sliver of the pressure from Bakugou's palms off his wrists.

Something sharp and slender writhed in Bakugou's chest. "I don't need you to reciprocate to know my moments with you are what make me happy. I'd love it if you did, but the sting of knowing you don't feel the same way is gone. Why? I dunno. Feelings aren't the most logical things like you want them to be." He glanced at Todoroki's wrists. "Oi…" It was then that he noticed a small piece of paper poking out from under Todoroki's head.

All vestiges of warmth shriveled up from Todoroki's countenance. "That's why I can't understand feelings." He shook his head while Bakugou pulled his hands away. "I tried to drown out a craving I had last night with cutting. I…kept going. I couldn't kill the urge, but the urge couldn't kill me." He lifted himself up and placed his hand where the piece of paper his head once obscured was. "Kat, I don't think you want to read that. I don't care if you do, but for some context, it's an aubade."

Shadow of Yesterday

A young boy grasps
My hand. Tattered and faded,
Fabric fragments dangle
Over the steel skeleton
Curling its fingers into mine.

I hand him my warmth—
Radiating from the jacket
Mom once gave me.
My arms sizzle
With frost;
Just like his

Cold, plastic eyes.
Trembling, he asks
For water.
His fingers gleam
With silver,
Brushing over
His blood-stained
Cheek.

His hand in mine,
He follows me
To the street light
Burning away
The night.

The water bottle kisses
His cracked lips.

I've seen this boy.

I spin, diving
Out of the white
Light. My feet twist
Between the black
Blades clawing
At my ankles.
I stumble
For the black horizon,

But the boy's dagger
Nails sink
Into my neck.
His icy breaths
Possess my pulse;
He whispers:
Let me live.

I peel off
My skin,
Stripping my bones
Clean. A white bath
Of steam suffocates
My eyes as I stare

Behind to see
Myself.
Empty water bottle
In hand, I'm hobbling
To Tomorrow
In the searing
Arc of pink light;

It pierces
My rotting retinas.
This pile of fragile
Bones collapses
In My shadow.
Eyeing the wires
Beneath My skin,
It weeps.


A/N:
all of the poems in this story are old, so i apologize for the poor quality of them all. but i did touch this one up a bit. i would've preferred to have scrapped the poem entirely and made a new one that reflects my growth in poetry, but for the sake of being able to look back on old poems and remember how i used to write, i only touched this one up.