THE EXCORS|| TodoBakuDeku au

THE EXCORS 010--A series of conversations and cliffhangers

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The buzzing of the clippers filled the hollow silence of the Multipurpose Chamber, tufts of scarlet and white hair falling to the floor every so often.          

It had taken a great deal of persuading on Izuku's end before Shoto allowed him to cut his overgrown locks of hair. Knots of apprehension and worry forming in the pit of his stomach as the younger enthusiastically led him across the vast expanse of the Bunker. Albeit, Shoto had little to no complaints on their journey—enjoying the sights it had to offer.

Overlooking the occasional blood-painted wall or a dead body . . . after years of war, he adjusted to seeing such sights. Training himself not to register the atrocious images, for if he allowed them to flutter in his mind he'd show signs of remorse, empathy for the dead, weakness. As a blood-born Ductor, weakness was not a luxury he had.

No, instead he focused on the faux-lights, how they flickered and gleamed to life. The violent humming of, what Izuku called a backup generator when he had asked. And the warm breeze the air vents circulated, slowly warming the entire building as the minutes ticked by.

He hadn't known why he agreed to this . . . Though some part of the young leader had to guess that he wished to be diverted from the path his anxieties had led him down. The thought of Katsuki out there . . . searching for tracks . . . so close to the borders. He was the best tracker they had—he had not an ounce of doubt in his lover. It was his doubt in the neighboring tribes if they found him.

What they would do to the blond should he accidentally cross onto their land.

Last time . . . they had got lucky. 

Alas, he pushed those thoughts further down the hole they crawled out of. Sitting down in an empty chair with a low grunt as Izuku forcefully pushed him down, rummaging through drawers and pulling out a metal tool.

Shoto gazed at it curiously, opening his mouth to question its purpose. "What's that for?"

"They're clippers," Izuku explained, eyes trained on the object in his hands intently. "For cutting hair, but they can also cut your skin so hold still." he ordered sternly.

The elder pushed down another wave of weariness, mouth tilting into a small frown as Izuku turned them on with a warbling hum. Of course, he's had a haircut before—albeit, it had been when he was a child and most natives knew that a blade could only do so much in terms of cutting hair. If you weren't careful it'd come out uneven and crooked. 

Eventually, as he grew older he began caring less and less about the matters of his hair—allowing it to grow and grow as the years ticked by.

"Have you done this before?" Shoto questioned, two-toned eyes narrowed and glazed with curiosity.

Izuku took his lower lip in between his teeth, gnawing at the flesh. "Mhm," he affirmed, though an unconvinced Shoto kept his gaze hardened.

A wavering sigh whispered past the border of his lips as a long tuft of scarlet hair flowed down his line of sight. Falling into his lap before Izuku reached down to flick it off. 

As he worked, Shoto couldn't help but stare at the boy's features—curiously admiring the plump flesh of his cheeks and mouth—wondering inwardly about the duality they held. Childlike and innocent one minute, they cold and hard the next. Izuku was both unpredictable and predictable all at once.

Predictable because Shoto knew his moods never stayed the same for long.

Unpredictable because Shoto never knew which mood he'd get next.