He didn't understand, he just didn't understand how Shininglight had the audacity to follow him to the Typhoon right when he was starting to get over him. Was it some sort of a cruel joke, was Shine mocking him for lusting after him for so many months? Luca chewed on his bottom lip as he paced the shoreline, angry embers on the bottom of his paws hissing with every step. He was chasing Junji's tail now, he didn't even need Shine's attention, but the image of the feline just wouldn't leave his mind. He could hear those words of rejection echoing over and over again in his mind, could see the unfamiliarity in those mismatched eyes of his. How dare Shine not remember him, especially after all that time he had spend together. Was he really that forgettable? His legs shook and he lowered himself to the ground before he could fall, bringing pink, manicured claws up to dig harshly into his own muzzle. He could feel his wings melting around him as he lost the last remaining traces of his composure, pooling around him in a black puddle and seeping into his fur and the sand. He hated being forgotten almost as much as he hated being rejected, and having both happen in the same conversation... it was a wonder that he'd been able to bottle up his anger for this long.

His breath hissed through clenched teeth, clouds of black smoke pulling themselves from lungs coated black. He could taste the same dark liquid on his tongue, the taste of rot and ash bubbling up from his throat. It was embarrassing turning into such a slimy disaster in plain sight, but he knew it was better than getting that thick black goop all over his house. "Fuck," he whispered, voice soft and fragile, the subtle parting of his teeth allowing some of the tar to spill out and over his lips. Tears pooled along his lower lashes, and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the wave of emotion to pass. It was too much, just too much. He would rather feeling nothing at all than all this emotion at once.

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It's easy to forget. Lives are so fragile. They were wisps, fragments of stardust all condensed into moving, breathing figures. Memory is a strange thing to think about. Neurons connected to neurons, holding onto each other, grasping remnants of a memory should the conscience ever wish to rediscover an emotion, thought or moment. Sometimes they happen instantly, materialising within your mind in hauntings or blessings. Like a kiss against the forehead, gentle or unwanted. Other times, they need a push. The neurons work like the old clockwork, churning and tilting rigidly, rusted from old age. They seep out slowly, like the grains of sand in an hourglass, pouring and filling a picture. It comes as the sea, gently pushing and pulling until something, bit by bit, is washed to shore. An arm, a leg, an eye, a tooth, a heart. Sometimes the heart is still beating, thundering away from its body, still believing it is alive - a bad memory. Other times, the heart has stopped. Dead. And Bakugou dreads it, wishing he could kickstart it again, force a second chance. But memories are only collections of what his brain has morphed, filtered and processed. They could be fake, materialisations of his wants, and yet they are treasured or hated anyway. The concept of forgetting is frightening because life is perceived through his own cognition. To forget was to allow something to cease existence, return to the backdrop of the universe - a night sky pondered upon insensitively, not caring for the indifferent lives of stars.

Smoke. He can say memories are a little like smoke. Entities that lack a form, left for interpretation or value. Fire is a form of life, a life that has no beating heart. It is selfish, destructive and consumes everything in its path. The embers are its remnants, the fragments of a memory that holds on so daringly, tries to live and exist. There is always a struggle for existence, one within the physical world and one that exists within the field of his mind. From those embers is left behind the ashes - the ashes of death, a bitter taste of the past. Something that doesn't fit his image of fire, however, is tar and slime. His eyes lock onto Luca, disgusted by the melting form of the winged male. He doesn't know how anyone can just deal with it, and by that he particularly means Luciferus who comforts his brother as though his brother wasn't literally sitting there as a pile of dripping goo. Hmph, for such a 'pretty boy', he sure looks ugly. He doesn't really know what's gotten the male in a horrid mood but it surprises him, almost makes him gag, when Caesar too tries to comfort the male. Truthfully, he thinks crying to be a healthy process. He's not afraid to cry, after all. If he is sad or frustrated, overwhelmed by the conditions of life, he is compelled to cry. Yet it doesn't matter what Bakugou thinks. He's never seen Luca like this before. Usually it's a tantrum, a childish wave of salt - anything but this ugly mess.

He hates to be the insensitive one but he simply doesn't feel obliged to sympathise with the demon. He may like to process and realise the emotions of others, but rarely does he ever empathise with the struggles of others let alone feel pity. Especially with his recent numb state from his constant toppings of painkillers, trying to ignore the internal tremors of his body, he's unable to muster any kindness for Luca. Instead, he brings life to the unspoken, the obvious which glared in front of them: "No one's gonna draw attention to the fact that he's literally meltin' on the spot?" His ears flatten against his cranium, outlining his features to show one of discomfort. Such a slimy breakdown isn't normal, but maybe it is in this universe. If dinosaurs and dragons exist, who is he to disapprove? But, he still finds himself unable to settle with the sight, the monstrosity before his eyes. "Should I go find a medic to stop all that, uh, goop? It's grosses me out." Blunt and honest. He won't hide the fact that he finds Luca disgusting but it's even more disgusting when that gremlin is hit by an ocean of negative emotions, falling apart on the spot into a puddle...it was like watching some intensely animated film, high-budget CGI to show the impossible.