the only exception | bakugou katsuki

08 | dwarfs & comets

Sometimes, you just want to be weak.

You want to drop every expectation of those who are around you and take off all your masks so they would see that you have your own scars as well. Most of all, you just want to be treated as someone. To have someone to rely on. To feel like you belong even for just a second.

Yuna had that thought recurring every time she caught someone whispering her name like she was a ghost no one should be talking about. Yet, it annoyed her and made her walk away, but sometimes she would stay, and let their words prick the thorny walls around her heart—like she would rather bury herself in pain that she think she deserves.

That way, she wouldn't be heartless any time soon.

It was noon, and lunch too, when she was in the library around the end of a corner, writing in her journal that she barely uses unless her muse overflow like Aquarius while Pisces swims around in reverie.

A melody, only melancholic for her and no one else, hums in her lip, a song unfinished that could only be heard by the one and only—but something was missing, just like how her fingers missed the memory of it followed by the seraphic echo it brings to her ears, and brings out the potential in her muse.

"—no way. You saw her with Bakugou?"

Her fantasy was interrupted by an ominous storm, a small click of her tongue tossed at the direction of the disturbance, rolling her eyes but she didn't turn around to see who was whispering. Typical gossip was fine, but why was the cliché shit always happening in a damn library?

"Yeah. I saw her skating by him the moment they got out of school yesterday. You should've seen the look on his face—he looked so annoyed." One of them laughed, but was quickly hushed by the other who was in it as well.

"Gosh she's so dense," they giggled again—and it was starting to sound irritating to Yuna who was casually listening a few shelves away from her seat. "She's trying too hard these days. Tried to pass the quirk apprehension tests but fails every year. Tried to participate in quirk related classes even though she can't. Tried to—"

They giggled a little louder this time. "Tried to hit on a hero student who happens to be sitting on the throne? Yeah. She's trying too hard. When is someone gonna tell her?"

A girl chuckled. "Don't think anyone would. Who'd wanna talk to her anyway? We're graduating soon. No one will remember her."

Yuna lets out a quiet, dry laugh to herself, and closed her journal before getting up, and walked away—when she should have done it earlier.

And now? Their words pricked her thorny walls a little harder than before, taking them down effortlessly without even knowing.

__________

Words can be an image that somehow becomes lodged deep in your brain—maybe washed there by a dream, or smuggled inside a book, or planted during a casual conversation—which then grows into a wild and impractical vision that keeps scrambling back and forth in your head like a dog stuck in a car that was about to arrive home, just itching for a chance to leap headlong into reality.

This bothers Yuna many, many times—doesn't matter for how long, but once someone judges you for being different, being born in ways you didn't ask for—you are the kind of threat that nobody cares, because you are too inferior to be the kind of threat to leave the world a mark for them to remember you.

Her thoughts eventually found a way to paint itself on her face, leaving Shiro curious.

Plus, it was already a bad idea since Shiro forced the two to eat inside the store instead of outside—to catch up, what he said.