Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He had never liked school, not so much. Too many people, too much noise, it made his head hurt. He had never liked school, and first days even less. To the many people, to the loud noise added the amount of new information he had to process, of course it wasn’t making his head hurt any less, on the contrary. (If only he could) (erase them all) (their voices) (loud, too loud) (their eyes) (staring, always staring at him) (If only he could)

He blinked

stared at his feet

Walk fast

Walk fast

He had never liked school, and UA was not different. He had never liked first days, and his first day in the hero course was not different. First of all, because he struggled to find his way to the classroom, who was the architect who designed the ridiculous H-shaped building, he wondered, students were bound to get lost in there, he was bound to get lost in there. Second, because everyone was loud, everyone was so loud. Excited, for most, alright, he got that, he was excited too, nervous as well, it was a turning point in his life, after all, though it wasn’t showing on his face (none of his emotions) (ever was) though he wasn’t yelling it out for everyone else to hear (when he was getting loud) (it rarely was good news) though he wasn’t making weird gestures with his arms, or else (he was usually) (quiet) (some would say too quiet) (his parents, for instance) 

He blinked

stared at his desk

Don’t look at them

Don’t look at them

If only he could erase them (the people) (their eyes) If only he could erase them all (staring staring staring) If only he could erase it (the noise) (the loud noise) If only he could erase it all (it hurt it hurt it hurt it-)

He blinked

unzipped his bag open

He couldn’t put his hands on his ears

not in public

It wasn’t allowed, it was weird

He knew as much

He pulled out his notebook, pulled out his pencil case

aligned them on his desk, one by one

He couldn’t take the risk of making eyecontact 

not with strangers, not on the first day 

He shouldn’t, socialize, make friends

He had never been very good at that

He tugged on his skirt, his ridiculously short skirt

under the desk, once, twice, thrice

He hated those outfits, he hated those uniforms

it made him feel weird, exposed

It was his fault, perhaps

He should have filled the form, perhaps

If only he could dress the way he wanted to dress, it would be so much easier. If only he could wear anything else, anything else than these ridiculously short skirts, it would be so much easier. If only he wasn’t told what to wear, how to wear it, with little to no regards to how he felt, to how he might feel, to how any person might feel, honestly who was comfortable with their legs exposed like this, who was comfortable with everyone staring at their exposed legs like this, no one he was sure, no one and definitely not him. (If only he could have) (had some courage) (told his parents) (filled the UA form regarding his gender identity) (if only) 

A coward

was all he was

Talk about

a future hero

He couldn’t stand

for his own identity, for his own name

How could he defend

the others, the weaker ones?

Pathetic

Pathetic

Pathetic

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home where he couldn’t be seen, he wanted to go home where he couldn’t be perceived. He wanted to go home, where it was safe and quiet. He didn’t belong here, in a classroom. He never had.

(He didn’t want to be a hero)

(for the social aspect)

(He didn’t want to be a hero)

(for the fame, or cameras)

(He just wanted to help people)

(He expected nothing else in return)

(He didn’t care)

(about the recognition)

(He didn’t care)

(about the rankings)

(He only wanted them) (to feel safe)

(because he never really) (felt safe)

He wasn’t feeling safe, right now. The people, the noise, the unknown environment, the uniform. None of the parameters was set to make him feel safe. 

“Hello, there!” the student sitting at the desk next to his even less “How are you doing on this beautiful day?”

Blond hair, ridiculously big smile, shades. Not to mention he was the loudest of them all. None of the parameters, indeed, he couldn’t consider himself lucky.

“I’m” he mumbled, curled his fist around his skirt, slowly, before averting his eyes (don’t look at me) (don’t look at what I wear) “Fine.”

He didn’t even reciprocate the question. He didn’t even try to make an attempt at a conversation. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be needed. He had a feeling he wouldn’t have to. 

“I’m Yamada” and he was right, as the guy put a hand on his chest, introducing himself in a very dramatic fashion “Yamada Hizashi” and he was right, as the guy went on and on despite Aizawa barely uttering a word “And you are~?”

How should he answer this question? Honestly, telling the truth, giving him the name he had chosen for himself? Carefully, revealing only his family name, since their homeroom teacher would call him by his full name anyway, and he couldn’t trust a stranger he just met with a secret as important as this one? Strategically, uttering his full name, and saving himself the trouble of having to explain himself as to why he would give a different first name, or no name at all? (He didn’t like that last option) (This name was making his skin crawl, didn’t feel like his own) (just like this skirt, didn’t feel comfortable, at all)

He blinked

looked at the boy, just a little, to be polite

Oh, you are

You are

He looked radiant, Yamada Hizashi. Perhaps it was his shining golden hair, perhaps it was his ridiculously bright smile. He looked radiant, warm. Like the sun on a hot summer morning. He looked radiant so 

“Aizawa” he did what he never did, when it came to introduce himself to people he didn’t know “Aizawa Shouta.”

He gave him his full name. And not the name written on his student ID, and not the name written on his every chart, his every book. And not the name his parents granted him with, because he was born a girl, because he, still, looked like a girl. But the name he had chosen for himself. But his one true name.

“Shouta, hmm” Yamada’s smile grew wider, and Aizawa somehow expected a remark, more or less nasty, or a glare (though hard to tell) (if he was to keep his shades on) “Guess we’re about to have a very rock-n-roll year together, yeah?” that yeah was especially loud, not sure he would survive the first trimester if Yamada proved to be this loud, all the time “Can’t wait to show you my quirk, you’ll see, Shouta, it’s amazing.”

It was the first time. It was the very first time. The first time someone called him by his name, by his own true name. He had used it, before. Online, on forums. Easier this way, with just text, without his voice, without his face, he could convince everyone, and no one had to know. He had used it, before. Online, never in person. As such, it was the first time he heard someone call him that way. As such, it was the first time he was hearing out loud that name he picked, long ago.

Shouta

Shouta

Shouta

Shouta

Shouta

Too much. It was too much.

“Aizawa” a mistake, he made a mistake “Call me Aizawa.”

Weird. It was too weird. Too much, too soon and he should have thought that through. He tried to think that through. Except his mouth spurred the name before he could understand what he was doing, an autopilot of sorts, it tended to happen when he was stuck in a social situation, and now he was wondering if he made the right choice. If he voiced the right name. He would know soon enough.

He would know

when the teacher would call his name

He would see

Yamada’s face

He would see it change

when Aizawa would rise, at a girl’s name

He would brace

Yamada’s rejection

It had to happen sooner or later

He was never fitted for human interaction, after all

Better if it happened sooner than later. He hated it the most, when his classmates happened to realize he was weird, when his classmates happened to realize he was too cold, too detached, too uncaring, too rational, never showing his emotions enough, never paying attention to the others’ needs enough. He hated it the most, when he was given the illusion of normality, the illusion of understanding, just to be discarded, once more, because he was too odd to properly fit in, in the first place. He hated the most, when he was proven, once more, here as well wasn’t a place where he could belong.

Except he was different

Yamada Hizashi

Rejection never came. He waited, though rejection never came. When the teacher called his name, his full name, his official name, the name that made his skin crawl, everytime, and today was no different. No change on Yamada’s face, who kept whistling and juggling with his pens, as if completely oblivious to what just happened. No change in Yamada’s attitude, who kept calling him Shouta, who would always call him Shouta, no matter how much he asked him to use his family name instead, worse, Yamada would use male pronouns and substantives to refer to him, even if he never asked him to, even if he was wearing a skirt, an awfully short skirt, a girl’s uniform. Rejection never came. No matter what he wore, no matter what he looked like, no matter what he sounded like. He waited, though rejection never came.

Yamada was different

and his heart started to fill with a strange warmth

Can we be

Can we be friends?

(I would like that) (You’re radiant)

(I never really had) (a friend)

He never really had a friend, hence he didn’t have the codes. He never really had a friend, mostly was mocked for his attitude, his posture, his knowledge or simply his inability to properly fit in. He never really had a friend, mockeries died down when he manifested his quirk, people were weary of his quirk, it scared them, not to be able to use the powers they were all relying on on a daily basis. Mockeries died down but it didn’t make the whole fitting in any easier, on the contrary. Not only was he too cold, too detached, too uncaring, too rational, but now he had a dangerous quirk everyone should be careful of. The same would happen with Yamada, as well. When he would realize Aizawa could erase his quirk, no matter how amazing it could be, he would no longer be interested in him.

The strange warmth

wouldn’t last

The few times he experienced it

it never did

Why would this one

be any different?

Though he would enjoy the warmth, while it was still there. Though he would enjoy the sun, while it still shined.

“Shouta, Shouta, Shouta” Yamada shook him vigorously, he was loud and also not afraid of physical contact either (this would be) (troublesome, to say the least) “We must rush, or all the good seats at the cafeteria will be taken” (quite troublesome) “Quick, quick, quick!”

He never liked looking people in the eye, it made him uncomfortable for some reason. He never liked loud noises, it made his head hurt. He never liked being touched, by his close ones he could tolerate, but strangers never. And Yamada happened to be a dreadful combination of all three.

“I’m not going” Aizawa shook his head, shrugged himself free “I’ll eat on the rooftop” before he pointed out at the ceiling “It’s quieter there.”

Lunch was usually the only moment of the day he could get some rest from all the people, some rest from all the noise. An habit he picked in middle school, and didn’t intend to discard. A classroom might be difficult to endure, but nothing could compare to the hell that was the cafeteria during lunch hours. 

The roof

The sky

And the quiet

of the wind

A place where he wouldn’t want

to put his hands over his ears and disappear

“The roof?” Yamada arched an interrogative brow “But I didn’t bring my lunch with me, I-” how is this a problem? (he can go to the cafeteria) (on his own) “I don’t have anything to eat, Shouta!”

Aizawa. I already told you to call me Aizawa. Or classmates will start to notice and I don’t want to have to explain myself. Not on the first day, not ever if possible.

“You can” perhaps Yamada was just trying to be polite, perhaps Yamada was just trying to be kind “Eat at the cafeteria” it was common, not to let classmates you’re starting to bond with on their own, not that Aizawa really understood why, he didn’t mind being on his own “I don’t mind.”

Except now Yamada seemed… sad? Weird, they just met. It wouldn’t make any sense if his classmate were to miss him on such short notice, would it? (But people were weird, inconstant) (full of) (ugly variables) 

(And Yamada Hizashi)

(was different)

“I don’t” a sadness he tried to cover with another of his bright smiles and an elbow kick to Aizawa’s waist (what an idiot) “I don’t want to leave you alone, you’d be sad.”

It would require Aizawa a lot of time, a lot of days and a lot of iterations of this exact same sentence to understand that, in fact, Yamada was the one who didn’t want to be alone, that, in fact, Yamada was as clumsy as Aizawa when it came to making friends, because, if Aizawa was too silent and detached, Yamada was too loud and getting too close too fast, if Aizawa was too rational, Yamada was too emotional, if Aizawa was uncaring, Yamada was annoying. A lot of time, a lot of days, a lot of iterations.

And today

was only their first day

“I guess” he sighed, rubbed the back of his head “We can share, my mother usually puts too much food in my bento anyway.”

Their first day

yet he made another offer

that was very unlike him

His name

Now his lunch

How far would he go, for Yamada Hizashi?

If he had be told

he would have never

believed

And his heart filled with this strange warmth, once again.

Weird

so weird

He couldn’t understand

He couldn’t understand anything at all

Yamada was loud

Yamada was annoying

Talking endlessly

Eating the food his mother made

And yet

yet

He couldn’t take his eyes off

the annoying loud boy who was eating his lunch

He, who couldn’t socialize

He, who couldn’t sustain eyecontact

He was even finding

his presence reassuring

He, who never really had a friend

He, who never belonged anywhere, truly

What is your secret

Yamada Hizashi?

You’re radiant

You’re warm

just like the sun

just like your voice

Can we be friends?

(I would like that)

“Good morning, Aizawa.”

He never liked it, when the girls were giggling. He always assumed it was directed towards him. Because he could never wear his skirt the right way (He never understood) (what the right way was) (to begin with) Because he could never do his hair in a cute fashion (He didn’t care much) (and it was untameable anyway) Because he never had a cute accessory, or jewelry (He wouldn’t) (they were too much a bother to begin with) He never liked it, hiding his identity made him paranoid that way.

“Good morning” so he simply mumbled.

The giggling didn’t stop. Not when he opened his locker, to put on his indoor shoes. On the contrary, the giggling went louder. (What) (did he) (do wrong) He hissed, raised a hand to grab the shoes. Though his eyes met with a dark package, on top of the white sneakers the students were required to wear. A dark package, crowned with a white envelope. (The reason) (for the girls’ giggling) (it was safe to assume) He sighed, shook his head, shoved the envelope in the pocket of his jacket (Yamada) (probably) (who else) (he had no friend) (and that loud boy was practically glued to him) grabbed the package, which was surprisingly a lot lighter than he expected and made a soft sound under his fingers (What is it) (clothes?) (and why didn’t he give him in person) (anyway) He sighed, shook his head, made his way to the rooftop, he still had a little time, before the first period.

What could it be?

And why his locker?

(It wasn’t the first time)

(Yamada made him gifts)

So why hide this one?

Why not give it to him directly?

(Books, food, flowers once)

(He was embarrassed) (never knew what to answer)

And why the letter?

What could it mean?

(The girls were giggling) (they saw something)

(he never liked it) (when girls giggled)

He opened the package. Slowly, carefully, his fingers were trembling, his hands were shy. (He didn’t know) (what to expect) (perhaps he should have read the letter first) no (the letter was an even more terrifying prospect) He opened the package. Slowly, carefully, taking more time than it actually required, to open a package this size, some would argue he was stalling (he wouldn’t argue) (he was stalling) He didn’t know what to expect, he never knew what to expect, Yamada was unpredictable, his ideas were weird. He didn’t know what to expect, and his eyes met with-

Oh.

Chapter Text

He happened to notice him the very moment he stepped into the classroom. The quiet kid, sitting alone at his desk, carefully aligning his belongings on his table, not meddling with anyone, not even making an attempt at a conversation. He happened to notice him, because he was the same, because they were the same.

Outcasts

School was never easy for Yamada, despite appearances, despite his efforts at turning everything into a joke, into a laughable matter he could easily discard. School was never easy. He was too different. Too different, too loud, too weird, unable to shut up, unable to focus, telling too much about himself, annoying everyone with his endless chatter, his inability to keep his hands to himself, his restlessness, some would say his selfishness, and so on, and so forth. Too different, too loud, too weird, and his eyes were often bearing the same weary look as this quiet kid.

Easier to hide sadness

behind colorful shades

“Hello, there!” perhaps they could be friends, if they were the same “How are you doing on this beautiful day?”

Perhaps they could be friends, if he did it right. Perhaps they could be friends, if he managed to restrain himself. Perhaps they could be friends, if he didn’t get too loud, too touchy, too invasive on the first approach. (Come on) (Hizashi)

Don’t be loud

Don’t be weird

(Be) (normal)

(for once)

“I’m” the voice surprised him “Fine.”

A girl. He mistook the girl for a boy. Perhaps it was her posture, perhaps it was her haircut, perhaps it was her demeanor. (Yet) (he had a strange feeling) (an uneasy feeling) Perhaps. Good he hadn’t been too pushy, good he hadn’t been too touchy. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not on the first day, not with the sole one who could become his friend.

The others

The others he knew of

Not personally

but he had seen those attitudes before

The way they talked to each other

The way they laughed at each other

Fake

All fake

The others

The others he knew of

They would pretend to be his friends

then turn their backs when he’ll get a little too loud

Whereas the boy

(The girl) (Hizashi)

“I’m Yamada” he put a hand on his chest, introducing himself with a big warm smile “Yamada Hizashi” snapping his fingers at the quiet kid who hadn’t even looked at him directly yet (even though) (he was wearing his shades) (strange) “And you are~?”

A name. A name would be a good start. Their names, then their quirks, then their aspirations as future heroes. He could do it. He could carry that conversation. All he had to do was to focus on the girl. All he had to do was not to let his brain be led astray.

Easier said

than done

His attention

His attention was a disaster

He was getting distracted

too distracted

Everyday, everywhere

all the time

Right now, for instance

The girl’s hair, the girl’s fluffy hair

The light

The ray of light dancing on his table

Her fist

Her fist curling around her skirt, under the desk

Right now, for instance

He was fighting the urge to pace around the room

“Aizawa” the quiet kid answered, and he saw her hesitate, and he saw her tense “Aizawa Shouta.”

(Oh) He blinked (A name) One, twice, thrice (Aizawa) He blinked (A boy’s name) processing the information (Aizawa Shouta) So this was where the strange feeling, where the uneasy feeling was coming from. He wasn’t a girl, after all. He might look like a girl (somehow) (that haircut, those manners) (not so much) he might sound like a girl (though he couldn’t do anything) (about his voice) (Yamada was one to know) he might be perceived as a girl. He wasn’t. He wasn’t and Yamada happened to notice, even if he wasn’t aware he had noticed, another mystery of his weird brain.

Don’t be nosy

Call him his name

(Be) (normal)

(Hizashi)

Don’t be mean

Call him a man

(Be) (normal)

(for once)

He might look like a girl, he might sound like a girl. He wasn’t. Fate and circumstances had led Yamada not to be unfamiliar with the feeling. (He might look like) (a boy) (He might sound like) (a boy) (He didn’t happen to feel much like) (one) (Even though what he might feel like) (was still) (unclear) They were the same, in the end. Very much the same.

Outcasts

Genderqueers

Some would say (Yamada would say) they were meant to be. 

“Shouta, hmm” his smile grew wider, genuinely (Shouta is) (a pretty) (uncommon) (name) “Guess we’re about to have a very rock-n-roll year together, yeah?” shit, that last sentence was a little too loud, people were glancing at them (his throat) (was tingling) (his quirk) “Can’t wait to show you my quirk, you’ll see, Shouta, it’s amazing.”

Not sure the quiet boy would like it, though. He didn’t seem the type to appreciate loud noise, and Yamada had seen his brows narrow when he started to get too excited and lose control over the volume of his own voice. Not sure the quiet boy would like it, though he could turn it into a joke, though he could turn it to a laughing matter, if they were to bond, if they were to become friends.

But you’re talking

to me

Few words, short sentences

Still, you’re talking to me

The others

you haven’t even greeted

The others

you haven’t even looked at

This is a good sign

isn’t it?

We are meant to be

aren’t we?

(Three years are a long time)

(without a friend)

“Aizawa” he mumbled, somehow embarrassed all of a sudden (what did he) (do wrong) “Call me Aizawa.”

Truth was, he liked him. Truth was, he liked the boy. He couldn’t tell how, he couldn’t tell why. He just happened to like him. He just happened to like spending time with him. Perhaps it was Aizawa’s gentle, calm demeanor, as he never interrupted him, no matter how fast, loud or far he could go while telling a story. Perhaps it was Aizawa’s annoyed, heavy sighs, whenever he indulged in physical contact (nothing much) (an arm, around his shoulders) (a playful punch, at his waist) (nothing too much) his way to protest at Yamada crossing boundaries, except he never made a move to get away. Perhaps it was Aizawa’s eyes, Aizawa’s avoidant eyes, when he called him by his first name, because he always was calling him by his first name, no matter what the teachers called him, no matter the suspicious glares coming from their classmates. Perhaps it was Aizawa’s smile, Aizawa’s discreet little smile, when he was telling a joke, one that landed, a few amongst many, or showing him cat pictures (Shouta liked cats) (he understood soon enough) on his phone. Truth was, he liked him. Truth was, he liked Aizawa Shouta.

Enough to annoy

everyone about him

His parents

(They were used to it)

His private math teacher

(His grades were a disaster) (and he wouldn’t get better)

The readers of his blog 

(They were eager) (for more)

Enough to want

to make him smile, again and again

Cracking jokes

and often not good ones

Buying him gifts

books, food, flowers once

Telling him about his life

always

And more importantly

More importantly

He had been saving money. Day after day, week after week, month after month. His parents were giving him a little each day, for his lunch, plus his weekly allowance, and he had been saving as much as he could. Refraining from spending it all on music equipments (and he surely loved his music equipments) on records (and he had an insane collection already) on guitar lessons (he was getting better, was afraid to fall behind) He had been saving money because he had an idea, an idea for a gift, for a gift he was sure would make Shouta happy, for a gift that was bound to make Shouta happy, he was sure, he had studied his friend, his attitude, for hours, for days, he was positive it would turn his whole life around.

Or at least he hoped so

when he sneaked around

Or at least he hoped so

when he shoved the package in his shoe locker

Or at least he hoped

and his heart

beat

beat

beat

beat

beat

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do so he paced around the corridors, in wait. Shouta was on the rooftop, probably, Shouta was always going on the roof when he needed a quiet place. Shouta was on the rooftop, and he wanted to go there as well, he wanted to go, he wanted to see, the look on his face when he would open the gift, the light in his eyes when he would realize the nature of the gift, the embarrassment that would come with the surprise. He wanted to go, he wanted to see. Shouta being pleased at the gift he gave him. (But he couldn’t go, could he?) (If Shouta chose a quiet place) (then he couldn’t disturb, could he?)

(Will you wear it)

(today?)

(Or won’t you)

(dare to?)

What is this strange feeling

in my chest?

(Will I get to see you)

(in it?)

(Or did I overstep boundaries) 

(once more?)

What is this insecure feeling

in my heart?

“Yamada?” he turned around, at the sound of the familiar voice “Why aren’t you in class?”

And almost gasped at the wonderful sight he beheld.

(Shouta)

(Shouta, you are)

(This)

(This suits you much better)

You’re beautiful

You’re so beautiful

(My heart)

(My heart is beating too fast)

(I can’t talk)

(I can’t speak)

I think

I know what that feeling is

“I was” he smiled, pointed finger guns at him “Waiting for you” I think I’ve always known “Looking good, Shouta, by the way~.”

I am

in love with you

“Don’t be an idiot” Shouta frowned, shoved his hands in his pockets “We’ll be late.”

The answer was simple. The answer was always simple. He was in love. He was in love with Aizawa Shouta. He wasn’t surprised, he had noticed in middle school already, how his gaze happened to linger on both boys and girls, indiscriminately. He wasn’t surprised, yet it was surprising, still, all he wanted was a friend, in the first place, a friend, nothing much, nothing more, someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, and here he was. In love. In love with his aloof, distant, apparently cold attitude, an attitude hiding, in fact, how much Shouta was paying attention to the others, how much he was caring about the others, how much he was feeling for (with) the others. A lot, too much, and his rational brain couldn’t easily provide an escape, or a solution. In love with his sense of humor, his blatant sense of humor, as Shouta often delivered dark jokes in a blunt fashion, with only a little smirk, or a mischievous grin, when he noticed Yamada had actually fallen for it, once more (Yamada was always falling for it) (he was gullible that way) In love with his fluffy unkempt hair, with his tired weary eyes. In love with his calm, his silence. In love with his logic, and how quick he was to find a solution to every problem (even though he still failed to understand) (how could Shouta love math this much) (math were evil incarnate) He was in love. He was simply in love.

In love enough

to sacrifice months of pocket money

for a gift

In love enough

to go to the tailor associated with UA

and have two pairs of dress pants made

In love enough

to have strategize in order to find

Shouta’s size, so they would fit

In love enough

to get him rid of this skirt

he happened to hate 

(He had noticed)

(how often) (he had been tugging on it)

(as if he was finding it) (too short)

In love enough

to want him to look like

how he felt, inside

In love enough

to want everyone

to see him as a man

(Tell me)

(Shouta)

(Are you happy now?)

Shouta never thanked him for the gift, or at least it would appear that way. He never voiced a thank you, never returned the favor, never asked or even talked about it. Except, between them, something had changed. It was soft, it was slight, it wouldn’t even seem that way, if you weren’t to pay attention. But Yamada was paying attention, but Yamada was always paying attention to everything Shouta was doing. As such, he had happened to notice. To notice he was less grumpy, less likely to tell Yamada he was loud, or annoying. To notice he was indulging more in physical contact, letting his friend grab his arm, pull him into a hug, tickle him or even ruffle his hair, in public no less. To notice he would make the effort to ask questions, when Yamada was telling a story. To notice he would listen to every song Yamada was talking about, to notice he would watch every video Yamada was sending him online. To notice he was making efforts to strengthen the bond, in his shy and peculiar way.

And the more he did

the more Yamada was falling in love

And the more he did, the sooner the situation turned critical.  

“Yamada” Hizashi, call me Hizashi “This is too much, even for you.”

I want to hear you say my name. I want to hear you call my name. Even if only once. (I call yours) (all the time) (because it matters to you)

(Turns out)

(it matters to me too)

“What’s too much~?” he knew exactly what, it simply was too hard to voice the actual reason “I’ve barely done anything, y’know~.” 

Barely done anything, to his standards. Yet he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Yet he couldn’t help touching him, hugging him. For he had the feeling, if he didn’t, touch, hug, playfully tickled his waist, poked his chest, his cheek, his nose, he would end up doing much worse. So much worse he might betray his true feelings, so much worse their friendship was unlikely to recover, if he were to cross that line.

(I love you)

(I love you so much)

(I want you) (to know)

(I want) (to tell you)

I’m scared

(What if)

(you don’t feel the same)

(You probably)

(don’t)

(I’m loud) (annoying)

(You’re quiet) (rational)

(What if)

(you don’t want me as your friend) (anymore) 

I don’t want to lose you

(You’ll assume)

(it’s because I see you) (as a girl)

(I don’t)

(I never did)

(You’ll assume)

(everything I did) (was to)

(I don’t)

(I only want to see you smile)

But you are so pretty that, when you do

I want to kiss you

Critical critical critical critical critic-

“You’ve been awfully clingy lately” Shouta scoffed, sighed, though he didn’t shrug or made a move to free himself “Something on your mind?”

You. Your pretty face, your pretty tired eyes (He bit on his lower lip) You. Your fluffy unkempt dark hair, your always twisted tie (pressed his forehead against Shouta’s shoulder) You. Your hands, your clumsy hands (as he wrapped his arms around Shouta’s waist, a little more tightly) You. Your lips, your silent lips.

There is not a day that goes by

when I don’t want to kiss you

He was feeling the urge. The impulse. And Yamada had always been bad at not falling victim to his impulses. That was the very reason why he was often scolded in class, for shouting, for speaking out loud when he shouldn’t. That was the very reason why he was rocking in his chair, juggling with his pens, whistling, when he wasn’t simply getting up for no apparent reason, instead of listening to what the teacher had been saying. That was the very reason why he was losing track of a conversation, since, apparently, the birds flying outside were more interesting. That was the very reason why he was spending his money, all of it, altogether, at once, on a new project he was unlikely to finish. That was the very reason why he ruined so many friendships, relationships, because he simply couldn’t keep himself in check.

But this one

this one he didn’t want to ruin

But this one

he wanted to do right for this one

He had the feeling this one was different

He had the feeling this one was important

Aizawa Shouta would change his life. So he had to be strong, fight the impulse and wait for the right time and place to confess his feelings.

Coward

(Why don’t you just)

(say it?)

“Can’t I just hold my friend, my best friend” he chanted, though he was nervous and his fingers were twitching “Whom I love and support~?”

It would be dangerous to say this much, with anyone else. It wasn’t, with Shouta. The boy might pay attention and care a lot, he was also missing a lot of obvious cues, a lot of obvious signs Yamada might have been sending his way. It would be dangerous to say this much, with anyone else. Whereas, Shouta

“You’re an idiot” Shouta was likely to believe it was but another joke “Yamada, you’re squeezing me too tight.”

Hizashi. Please. Call me Hizashi. (I want to hear what it sounds like) (in your voice) 

“Sorry, sorry~" he apologized, loosened his grip, moved away “I wasn’t thinking, I mean you don’t even like physical contact, do you?” careful, Hizashi (Shouta might miss cues) (he’ll still notice) (if you don’t act like yourself) “I must just be annoying you.”

Coward

(Why don’t you just)

(confess?)

“I don’t mind” Shouta mumbled, averting his gaze (did he) (blush?) “When it’s you, I don’t mind.”

Perhaps this was the right place, perhaps this was the right time.

Coward

Chapter Text

How he hated his name. (XXXXX) So much. Too much. (XXXXX) He wished he could no longer hear it, never, and especially not to refer to him. (XXXXX) He wished he could erase it, as easily as he was erasing the quirks of his targets, of his fellow comrades, during practice. (XXXXX) He wished, he wished. Alas, the name kept echoing, the name would always keep echoing.

(XXXXX)

(XXXXX)

(XXXXX)

(XXXXX)

(XXXXX)

“It’s me” he mumbled, taking off his shoes, hanging his coat in the entrance “I’m home.”

The name kept echoing. The name would keep echoing. And here, of all places, the most.

“A-!” (XXXXX) not the name (XXXXX) not (XXXXX) the (XXXXX) name (XXXXX) “How was your day?”

This isn’t me. (Why can’t you see) (mom?) This isn’t my name. (What do I have to do) (dad?) This isn’t who I am. (Changing my clothes wasn’t enough) This isn’t who I want to be. (Cutting my hair wasn’t enough) I don’t want to hear that name anymore. 

Nevermore

Nevermore

“Fine.”

If this is how you see me, then I don’t want to be perceived (The teachers call me that name) (I can’t ignore them) If this is how you perceive me, then I don’t want to talk (The others call me that name) (I often pretend I can’t hear them) Nothing personal, but I’m too tired, too exhausted, to keep on a mask that fits a little less, each day passing by.

At least, Yamada

At least, Yamada, he

(He was awfully clingy) (today again)

(I really hope) (he is okay)

At least, Yamada

(Hizashi) he calls me my name

(Obviously) (he is not)

(but I’ve tried) (he won’t talk)

At least, Yamada

(Hizashi) he always makes me smile

(He is) (my friend)

(what can) (I do?)

He never was good friend material, or good daughter-son-whatever material either. The disappointed look in his mother’s eyes, when he said he was going to his room, instead of watching a show with her, spoke volumes. The silence of his father, even more. He never was good friend material, as a matter of fact, he wasn’t really good at anything, besides scoring high grades, and high grades might feel nice, when he was receiving them, they were limited. You can’t hold a grade, or an idea, or a concept. You can’t touch them, make them laugh, or see them smile. A grade isn’t warm, an idea isn’t cold. A concept has no presence. Whereas Yamada did, and quite an overwhelming one. Quite an overwhelming one he didn’t know what to do with.

switching his computer on

(XXXXX)

That name, again

(But if he changed it) (his parents would ask questions)

opening a browser tab

clicking on the search bar

That name

That name was everywhere, and he hated it

(XXXXX)

(XXXXX)

(XXXXX)

How to

comfort your sad friend

There was nothing he couldn’t understand, when it came to class. No number, calculation or equation that was getting out of his reach. No idea, concept or exercise he couldn’t process faster than everyone else. There was nothing he couldn’t understand, his teachers had always said so. Nothing he couldn’t understand, except for the strange behaviors of human beings. Then, suddenly, there was plenty he couldn’t understand, plenty he couldn’t grasp, plenty he couldn’t process. The ugly variables of human interactions. (Not quite) (variables were predictable) (humans, not so much) (and Yamada) Hizashi (even less)

Knowing what to say (ah)

Ask how they're feeling

(Done already)

(Yamada gave him nothing)

Should he call him Hizashi?

Would it help?

Acknowledge what's upsetting them (but Hizashi doesn’t talk)

Keep the attention on them (he was)

(Exactly the reason why he was always so lost)

(He was doing this already, so why wasn’t it working?)

Learning to listen attentively (but he was listening)

Use body language to show you're listening (how?)

(It was never working)

(He was broken, in some way) (different)

What does Hizashi like? Music?

Would that help?

Useless. All of this online information was useless. It wouldn’t help Yamada, he wouldn’t help Yamada. Guess he had no other choice, in the end. Guess he would have to ask his parents, for advice, for help, they always provided, when he needed an insight. Guess he would have to ask his parents, even though it meant

“Earth to Ayumi” he would be forced to listen to the name, he would be forced to acknowledge the name “You’re with us?”

How he hated his name. (Ayumi) So much. Too much. (Ayumi)

This isn’t me

This isn’t my name

“Sorry” (Ayumi) “What did you say?” (Ayumi)

Alas, the name kept echoing, the name would always keep echoing.

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

“I asked how was your day” his mother smiled, and he had to avert his eyes “You seem concerned, did you have a bad grade or something?”

No, not a bad grade. A bad grade, he could straight up quite easily, after he had swallowed his pride of not being able to get it done perfectly. A bad grade, he could deal with, no help needed. 

“No” he shook his head, eating some of his rice “Yamada is” hugging me, all the time, touching me, and he can’t stop (he has done it before) (but this is too much, even for him) “Acting a little strange, I don’t know what to do.”

I want him to stop. I want him to go back to normal, to his usual self. He is being different and it’s worrying me. Because, when I ask why he acts differently, he doesn’t tell me. (It must be bad) (isn’t it?) (Otherwise) (he would tell me)

I hate it

I hate it, Hizashi

I want him to stop. I want him to only hug me when he tells an annoying joke. I want him to only touch me when he decides to pull a prank. Not because he is worrying about a matter he can’t tell me about.

“Yamada?” his mother smiled “You’re close to him, aren’t you?” and Aizawa only nodded “You’ve been talking about him quite a lot” I already know all that, mom (is it what the site meant) (by ‘knowing what to say’?) “What’s happening to him?”

He hated it. He hated it, because, if he already knew, he wouldn’t be asking the question. He hated it, because, if he already knew, he wouldn’t be asking for help, for insight. He hated it. Why waste all this time? Why weren’t they going straight to the point? 

(He was) (indeed)

(broken)

“I don’t know” he focused on his rice, gathering it all in a square form “He’s being weird” when we’re on the rooftop, he holds me so tight, as if he was somehow afraid I would disappear (it doesn’t make any sense) “He does things he doesn’t usually do” even the way he holds me is different (I can’t tell how) (I can’t tell why) (I simply happen to know) “And when I ask him what’s wrong, he only deflects the question” worse, he says he’s sorry for crossing boundaries, while keeping crossing those boundaries (it really doesn’t make any sense) (I don’t understand) “I don’t know what to do.”

If he wasn’t broken, if he wasn’t different, perhaps he could have. Understood what was wrong, despite Hizashi’s silence. Helped his friend, as he so desperately seemed to need a comforting presence of sorts, and Aizawa was his sole friend, just like Hizashi was his. Been a sympathetic ear, and not the grumpy gloomy kid he always was. If he wasn’t broken, if he wasn’t different, perhaps he could have been.

A better

friend

“If he doesn’t talk, then it’s probably too early, too difficult for him to voice out loud what’s bothering him” his mother calmly explained, moving her chopsticks around in circles “Some heavy things might be difficult to say, pretty sure you can relate” terribly (my name) (my gender) (I can’t tell you about it) (not yet) “You can help by doing stuff he likes” like what? (I won’t sing) (never) (not even for him) “Offering him his favorite food, inviting him to his favorite places, little things like that, to take his mind off what’s bothering him” but he couldn’t cook, and all the places Hizashi liked were terribly loud and annoying “What does Yamada like doing?”

Everything I hate doing. I wonder, sometimes, how we can be friends.

“He likes music” Aizawa rolled his eyes “Not the music I like, more like” waving his hand “Rock, punk, that stuff.”

“A concert would be nice.”

No way. No fucking way. A concert was too loud, too crowded. A classroom was overwhelming already, he wasn’t having his lunch at the cafeteria for a reason. No way. No fucking way.

“A what?”

“Come on, A-” no (XXXXX) not the name (XXXXX) not now (XXXXX) “You’re fifteen!” and? home was nice and quiet “It’s time you go to your first concert already, and it would make Yamada feel better, I’m sure” yes, but “Your dad can take you, and Yamada can even spend the night” what? like… in my room? (no way) “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

No. It wouldn’t. Not for him, at least.

But isn’t it

what it means

to be a friend?

To discard your comfort

to put away your needs, at least for a little while

so the other can feel better?

(I’ll be) (a better friend)

(for you) (Hizashi)

“Alright” he nodded, rubbing his forehead “Alright, I’ll look at what he might like” and his voice was quivering, and his heart was beating fast, for a reason unknown “I’ll let you know.”

And so he did his research. And so he spent countless hours, before his computer, looking at the messages, at the songs Hizashi had sent him, trying to sort out which groups were coming more often, trying to sort out his tastes (and it wasn’t as easy as it might sound) (Hizashi’s tastes were various) And so he spent countless hours, browsing the internet, looking for concerts in the area, concerts his dad could easily pick them from, concerts happening outside of school nights, concerts at a reasonable price (too many requirements) (and he was unlikely to find tickets that matched them all) (yet he kept looking) And so he did his research. For days, for weeks. Sacrificing some of his homework, sacrificing his sleep.

Something

He had to find something

Something to make Hizashi happy

Something to cheer him up

Something to make him go back to normal

Something to bring that smile back on his lips

Something

Something

Something

He finally found a concert, on a Friday night, at what he could consider a fair price. The band playing was one Hizashi mentioned (Aizawa listened to them but) (he couldn’t understand what was pleasant) (in listening to people yelling this loud) and the distance between the place and his house was somehow reasonable, or at least he was confident his parents would consider it reasonable. He finally found a concert, submitted the idea to his mother. Hoping she would say yes, hoping she would agree, hoping he had, for once, matched all the requirements, doing something that might help another human being, one of his friends, no less, something he was usually unable to do.

Please

Please please please

“It’s perfect, Ayumi” shit (Ayumi) he was too eager (Ayumi) lowered his guard (Ayumi) stupid name (Ayumi) echoing again (Ayumi) “You must have spent a lot of time, looking for this, uh?”

A lot more than he was willing to admit, actually. Looking back, he might have gone a little overboard, for concert tickets.

(But Hizashi)

(was his friend)

(But his friend)

(wasn’t feeling well)

(If all he could)

(was processing information)

(Then he would use)

(every of his rational skills)

(He had to do) (something)

(anything)

“A bit” he shook his head, trying to brush the echo (yumiyumiyumiyumi) of the name (yumiyumiyumi) away (yumiyumi) “It’s not something I usually do.”

He hoped he would do better, the next time. Even if he somehow hoped there wouldn’t be, a next time (There would be) (Life wasn’t kind) (that way)

(There would be)

(Sooner than he thought)

“And you did well” his mother pressed the keyboards quickly “Alright, Friday night, two tickets” wait, was she-? “And it’s done!”

But she wasn’t sure Hizashi would accept. But he wasn’t sure Hizashi would accept. Or his parents, as a matter of fact.

“Wait, wait” he raised an embarrassed hand “Mom, we don’t know if Hi-” uhu, don’t say too much “If Yamada can come yet.”

His mother wasn’t the type to pry, or ask questions about his relationships, or absence of relationships, as it happened to be for his middle school years. His mother wasn’t the type to pry, except if he were to get close to a boy. Because she was still perceiving him as a girl. Because expectations came with him being perceived as a girl and getting close to a boy.

(His friend)

(Hizashi was) (his friend)

(Nothing else)

(Nothing more)

“It’s okay if he can’t” she winked at him, and he recoiled, a bit “We’ll have a girls’ night together that way.”

See? A girl, always. No matter the changes, no matter the outfits, no matter the haircut. No matter the absence of makeup, care for interests regarded as feminine (he never understood why it was considered feminine but) (fashion) (romance) (never appealed to him) reluctance to shave his body hair. No matter everything he could do, everything he could say, every hint he could drop. A girl, always.

“I don’t even like that band, mom” he sighed, ruffled his hair “And you don’t know them.”

I’d only go there because of Hizashi. I’d only go there for Hizashi. Because I know their live music will bring to his lips this genuine smile I happen to miss.

(His friend)

(Hizashi was) (his friend)

“It’s alright, who cares” she shrugged, walking to the printer “It’s been a while since we haven’t done something together, mother and daughter.”

She was right. She was right, and he had been shutting them out. His mother, his father. Not because he didn’t love them, not because he didn’t care about them. On the contrary. He loved them, he loved them dearly. That was the worst part, actually. Because it was harder and harder, to conceal his true self from them. Because it was harder and harder, to pretend it didn’t hurt to be forced into a role he wasn’t suited to play, to be called a name he could only look at with disdain and rejection. Because it was harder and harder, to bear the risk to disappoint them, to bear the risk to reveal too much of who he actually was. 

I’m sorry

I’m so sorry

I miss the days

I miss the days when

we snuggled on the couch

watched stupid TV shows all night

we had endless conversations

about the world, about politics

I seemed to understand you

and you seemed to understand me

what broke in me

what broke and I couldn’t repair?

“Sorry” he looked away, once more, as he was about to lie “Being in UA, the hero course” he never liked lying to her, he never liked lying to anyone he cared about “It’s a lot of work.”

I’ll sew that bond together back again

It’s a promise

“I know, I know, it’s alright” she might smile, though he knew she was lying too “Here you go” before she handed him the printed tickets “Your cheer-up gift for your friend Yamada.” 

It suddenly felt real. Holding the two pieces of paper, in his hands. Seeing his name, the name of the band, the date, the hour, the place, in black characters. It suddenly felt real. It suddenly felt very real. And his heart beat faster for a reason unknown, once again. 

“Thanks” he folded the sheets in half, hoping not seeing the words would calm the tremendous beating of his heart (it didn’t) “I’ll give it to him tomorrow” the more he talked, the faster it beat (what is) (happening to me?) “And tell you what his answer is.”

(Stop it)

(Stop it now)

(I’m scared)

(I’m very scared)

(But scared of what)

(exactly?)

What if Hizashi says no, what if Hizashi says he can’t, what if he no longer likes the band, what if he doesn’t want to go with you? What if all you did was for nothing? What if, what if, what if-

“Oh no, no, no, kitten” she snatched the tickets away from his hand, grabbed a nice envelope, and a pink one no less (since when) (did they have pink envelopes) (in this house?) “Wrap your gift a little better, you’ve got to make it look like a surprise.”

Right. Another thing that made no sense. What was the purpose of a nice envelope, of a nice wrapping paper, if it was meant to be torn apart and cast away eventually? It simply sounded like a waste, any regular envelope might do.

(Though Hizashi)

(would like that glittering pink)

(His tastes)

(were stupid and vain) (that way)

“But I don’t-”

“I’ll do it for you” she cut him before he could even protest “How do you write Yamada?”

Well, useless to try to protest when she was acting like this. She wouldn’t budge, and he was all too aware.

“The kanji for mountain” he shoved his hands in his pockets “Then the one for rice field” watching his mother write his friend’s name in a better fashion than he ever could “Oi, why are you adding hearts to his name?”

He knew why. Because it was cuter this way. And because cute was what a girl was supposed to be into. (Again) (the same misunderstanding) 

“Look” at least she was happy to help, her smile was genuine “Isn’t it adorable?”

So he couldn’t help smiling as well.

“Yes, thank you.”

Chapter Text

He pulled out his phone, checked his messages. Again. Shouta hadn’t answered him. Again. It was happening a lot lately, Shouta had never been really quick or thorough with his replies, but he never was left on read, at least not completely, Shouta might skip a message or two, especially if he happened to send him a music to listen to or a video recommendation, but he was always answering eventually. Eventually. Lately, he wasn’t. Lately, all his messages, whether they were greetings, details about his weekend, silly gifs, were left on read, with no answer. He shouldn’t be surprised. He was. Surprised.

He had the feeling Shouta was different

And it hurt to realize the story seemed to repeat itself

He tried to convince himself his friend had his reasons. First of all, the exams. Exams were the keystone of UA’s hero course and Shouta was one to worry about scoring the best grades possible (Yamada, not so much) (if he could score good enough to pass without sacrificing all his free time) (he’d rather keep indulging his many hobbies) (hence math was quite the problem) (because he was terrible at it) He might be studying like crazy, he had told Yamada he had been studying like crazy, he would probably be top of the class again. Second, well, as much as he hated to admit it, he had been too clingy in the past few weeks. Shouta didn’t even like physical contact, yet he kept forcing it onto him, and a lot. 

(He was too much)

(He had always been too much)

(Too much for his parents)

(Too much for any of his previous friends)

You’re loud

You’re annoying

(Too much for everyone)

(Too much, all the time)

(Of course) 

(he’d be too much for Shouta as well)

(Of course)

(he’d be too much for Shouta even more)

Can’t you keep your voice down?

Can’t you stop yelling?

He tried to convince himself his friend had his reasons. Except he couldn’t help being paranoid, as the pattern seemed to feel too much like a familiar one. Like a familiar one, with him being discarded, with him being left alone, once more. Because he couldn’t tone the volume down. Because he couldn’t repress his goofiness, his silliness, it’s the only way he had found, to keep the pain at bay, to keep the sadness at bay, if he stopped, darkness prevailed and he was scared of his own darkness (Not scared of) (what he could do) (But scared that) (it might swallow him whole) Because he grew up unable to hear the sound of his own voice.

Too loud

because he couldn’t hear

Too annoying

because he didn’t want to be forgotten

Can’t you be normal

for once?

The pattern seemed to feel like a familiar one. Where the other was bored with his attitude, bored with his nonsense and slowly but surely drifting away. He had witnessed it happen, before. He had witnessed it happen, many times. And if he survived all of the losses, this one would hurt more. Because Shouta wasn’t only his friend. Because Shouta, he loved and held dearly (Too dearly)

“Good morniiiiiiing everyone!” so he put on a smile, a fake smile (to cover for) (his paranoia) “How are you feeling today, boys, girls and everyone in between?” 

So he pretended to be all about joy and fun (to cover for) (the pain in his heart)

If Shouta ignores me

what am I to do?

“Yamada, you’re too loud.”

“Yamada, you’re annoying.”

“Yamada, can’t you shut up? It’s too early for this.”

A fake smile (Loud) A fake confident pose (Annoying) The same, all over again.

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

He was used to it. Everyday, everytime, since he was a little child, he had been told so. Loud, annoying, can’t you shut up? He was used to it, he was used to the slurs. They shouldn’t hurt, not anymore. Except, today, they did. 

(Shouta)

(Shouta) (where are you?)

Except, today, they did. They did and he wished he could rush to his friend, take him in his arms, when the door finally opened to reveal his tired, hunched figure. He couldn’t. If Shouta was letting it pass, when they were alone, when they were having their lunch on the rooftop, just the two of them, the classroom full of students was another story.

(I’m glad)

(Glad to see you) (finally)

“Shoutaaaa” he needed contact, so he threw an arm around his shoulders (but it wasn’t) (enough) “Shouta, you never answered my texts, you better have a good excuse for it, you traitor” he craved contact, so he poked his cheek repeatedly (but it wasn’t) (enough) “Had one rock-n-roll weekend?”

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this silly play-pretend. He wanted a hug, a gentle comforting hug. He wanted a hand on his back, rubbing him tenderly, as if to say Shouta would never leave. (Too much) (to ask) 

If only you weren’t

a coward

If only you confessed

your feelings

Loud

annoying

deaf idiot

“Yamada” Shouta shrugged, moved Yamada’s hands off him (why) (he never did so) (why) it hurts “You’re annoying.”

It hurts (Loud) It hurts (Annoying) It hurts (Deaf idiot) It hurts (Loud) It hurts (Annoying) It hurts (Deaf idiot)

And tears were starting to sting

in his eyes

“So-Sorry” good he always had his shades on, afterall “I need to go to the bathroom before the teacher arrives” so no one would see him cry, as he exited the room.

Come on (Why was he crying?) Come on, he heard all this before, and many times! (Why was he always so weak?) Come on, Shouta was always, always , calling him annoying when he was jumping on him, first thing in the morning (Why did it keep hurting?) Come on, Shouta was his friend, he wouldn’t reject him, not so easily (He was used to the slurs) (He was used to the pain) (So why did he keep hurting?) would he?

(But he saw)

(he saw)

(In Shouta’s bag)

(there was a pink envelope)

(Shouta hated pink)

(meaning) (it was a gift)

(Pink) (glitter)

(meaning) (it was a love letter)

(Someone gave Shouta) (a love letter)

(and that someone) (wasn’t him)

(He was an idiot)

(He was such an idiot)

(He would always be second best)

(wouldn’t he?)

How he hated the feeling, how he wished he could make it disappear. He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight on his chest, the knot in his throat. (He would always be) (too much) Tears running down his cheeks, too fast, and he was unable to make it stop, and he was unable to make them stop. (He would never be) (enough) Bringing his knees to his chest, hiding his face. (He would always be) (the loud) (annoying) (deaf idiot) The voice wouldn’t stop, so he angrily snatched his hearing devices, threw them on the floor, threatening to break them, once again, and his parents would yell at him if he were to break them again, expensive as those could be. (The voice couldn’t stop) (it was in his head) The voice wouldn’t stop, so he covered his ears with the palms of his hands. 

The world was silent to him

without his aids

So why couldn’t his thoughts

why couldn’t the voice in his head be?

Enough

Enough

Enough

He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t hear but he could feel, the hands forcing his off his ears. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t hear but he could see, the familiar blurry shape behind the veil of his tears.

Shouta?

He wanted to say his name, he wanted to call his name. Shouta followed him all the way here, he saw him cry, worse he saw (His eyes) (and their peculiar color) (Shit) He wanted to say his name, he wanted to call his name. But he couldn’t hear the sound of his own voice, without his devices, and he was positive now wasn’t a good time to be too loud.

I didn’t want you

to see me like this

I don’t want you

to worry about me

You’re the gloomy one

not me

I’m supposed to be

the joyful one

All these years

and it still hurts

All this time

and I’m still weak

How can I even pretend

to become a hero?

Wait. Wait a second. Shouta’s hands. Shouta’s hands, they were

(right hand, index towards the sky, palm towards Yamada)

hi  

(a fist, facing Yamada)

sa  

(thumb up, right index and middle finger to the left)

shi

Sign language

(right hand, index towards the sky, palm towards Yamada)

hi  

(a fist, facing Yamada)

sa  

(thumb up, right index and middle finger to the left)

shi

on repeat

Since when Shouta could use sign language? (Hizashi) (He was signing Hizashi) (trying to, at least, he forgot to move his hand on the sa syllable, in order to turn it into a za) (Not Yamada) (But Hizashi) A few basic signs was probably all he could do, all he could understand.

Cute

[right hand to the right, index pointing up, wagging] What?

Are you okay? (formal) [hands into fists, held before the shoulders, pushing twice a small distance forward]

(Shouta forgot to raise his hand) (to signify he was asking a question)

[same gestures as before] I'm fine.

(He still had a long way to go)

Where were his hearing aids? Hope they didn’t break when he threw them away, impulsively, because he desperately needed them now. (Shouta) (was trying to reach out to him) (Shouta) (was trying to communicate) Where were those stupid things when he needed them? Come on!

A tap on his shoulder

An open palm

One aid, only one aid

It would be better than none

He could read on Shouta’s lips

to make up for the lost sounds

“What?” he frowned, as noises came back, like a low whisper in the back of his head “What is it?”

Where was his other aid? His parents would kill him, if he lost it. His parents would kill him, not to mention being able to hear sound coming from only one side wasn’t comfortable, especially not regarding classes. 

“You’re crying.”

It wasn't a question. It didn’t sound like one, it wasn’t supposed to be one. It wasn’t a question. Shouta was stating a fact. Yamada had been crying, and Shouta was simply stating it as a fact. What can he say for his defense now?

“It’s just” he shrugged, forcing a crooked smile on his lips “Dust in my eyes.”

The best he could do on such short notice. Shouta might be oblivious but not stupid, he should prepare to have to explain himself to his friend.

“Liar” Shouta calmly said, taking his time to properly articulate (very considerate of him) (but Yamada could still read his lips if needed) “Can you hear me well? I can’t find the other one.” 

Well enough. Your voice sounds a little different, muffled. Or perhaps it’s because you’re taking the time to adjust it for me. (You don’t need to) (I’ve been deaf since birth) 

“I can” he sniffled, put his glasses back on before Shouta started asking about his eye color (his bad hearing) (his tantrum in the bathroom) (that was enough for one day) “Maybe- Maybe near the sinks? I just” he didn’t want to scare him away, by revealing how much of a freak he actually was “I just threw them without thinking.”

I do everything without thinking, end up with a lot of regrets. Like leaving the classroom to hide in here. Because now, not only am I about to be late for class, but you are too. (You should go) (good grades matter to you) 

“I-” Shouta cleared his throat (you were about to call me an idiot) (weren’t you?) “Whatever, I’ll look for it” (you’re right) (I’m an idiot) “Sorry I called you annoying, didn’t mean to make you cry.”

(Why are you here?)

(Why are you here) (Aizawa Shouta?)

(I’m loud) (annoying)

(I’m deaf) (stupid)

(None of the things I like)

(you care about)

(None of the things you care about)

(I like)

(Math, really)

(I’ll forever judge you for it)

(I touch you)

(and you don’t like it)

(I talk too much)

(and never listen)

(Why are you here?)

(Why do you stay?)

(Do you like me?)

(Even just only a little?)

(Me, the loud annoying)

(deaf stupid weird kid?)

Because I love you. Because I love you so much. So much that if you choose to date the girl who gave up that pink envelope, it’s okay. It’s okay as long as you still eat your lunches on the rooftop with me.

I really hope she’ll make you laugh.

As I never managed to.

“Found it” Shouta blew on the device, rubbed it on his sleeve “Seems fine, here.”

Thank you for not asking, by the way. Thank you for not asking why I suddenly ran away. Because it involves my feelings for you. Because it’s still too soon to tell you. Because I’m a coward, at heart.

(You deserve better)

(than the loud annoying weird kid)

(You deserve)

(the girl from the pink envelope)

(You deserve)

(someone that makes you laugh)

But I’d be a liar, if I said I didn’t want to kiss you, right now.

Perhaps

if I weren’t so heavily impaired

Maybe

in the next world

Maybe

in the next life

“Come to the rooftop with me.”

Except a clenched fist can become an open hand.

“What?”

“Come to the rooftop with me.”

If you wait long enough.

“The class is about to start and-”

“Don’t care” Shouta frowned, blushing (very cute) “Come to the rooftop with me.”

There shall be light.

“Alright, alright” he grinned, patted on his thighs “Wanna confess your love for me or something~?”

Stop

You mean it, don’t you?

“Can I call you an idiot” Shouta arched a brow, a slight grin on his lips “Or will you get dust in your eyes, once again?”

Ouch, fair fair. He started it with the heavy jokes, after all. 

Why don’t you confess yourself

future hero Yamada Hizashi?

The rooftop was the quietest place of all UA. They knew, for Shouta had chosen here to take his lunch. The rooftop was the quietest place of all UA, except, now the classes had started, now there were no longer any students wandering around, it was even quieter. (Only the birds) (and the quiet whispers of the wind) It was even quieter and Yamada leaned against the railway, tilting his head to face the deep blue sky (Only the birds) (and the quiet whispers of the city in the distance)

Now would be the right place

Now would be the right time

“So” he forced a smile, another one, easier to crack, the wind might help, the sun might help (Shouta) (might help) “What did you make me skip class for, trouble child?”

As if he was about to go, in the first place. (He wasn’t) (He would have spent the hour crying) (alone) (if Shouta hadn't showed up) As if he was about to sit on his chair, pretend nothing happened, pretend he wasn’t sad, and hurt.

Why

Why, still

“I wanted to apologize” Shouta passed a hand in his hair, his fluffy dark hair dancing in the wind (and Yamada wondered) (and Yamada had always wondered) (how those heavy black locks must feel) “I’ve been distant, lately. I’ve hurt you” oh, he noticed (perhaps not so oblivious) (in the end) (not always) “Whereas you haven’t been yourself, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me why” did he rehearse? it sounded rehearsed “I’ve something for you” you have what? (you never make gifts) (Aizawa Shouta) “I was hoping, you know, it might cheer you up.”

You might cheer me up. No. You are cheering me up already. You have no idea how big of an impact you have on me, on my mood, don’t you? You have no idea how much I love you, don’t you?

Now was the right place

Now was the right time

“A gift~?” don’t, stupid “What is it~?” don’t turn it into a joke “Your heart, maybe~?♡.”

He won’t be less oblivious, if you keep turning it into a joke, on the contrary. He won’t be less oblivious, if you keep making it sound like it doesn’t matter. (But joking) (is the only way he had found) (to be able to voice what was on his heart)

I love you

Shouta

I’m grateful for you

Shouta

Even in your moments of distance

you had me in your thoughts

“Keep joking and I’ll give it to someone else” he frowned, pulling the pink envelope Yamada saw earlier from the inside of his jacket “Don’t pay attention to the package, my mother insisted on it.”

Calm down (Could it be) Calm down (The glittering pink, my name with hearts around) Calm down (Could it be) Calm down (A dream come true)

You better not

You better not

“A love letter, how cute” if he never sees you as a potential boyfriend, Yamada Hizashi, you’ll only have yourself to blame “I knew you had a crush on me, Shouta~.”

You know it’s not. You know his mother wrote this. You only hope he did, instead.

“Shut up, you idiot” Shouta rubbed his forehead in embarrassment “And open up your stupid gift.”

It wasn’t a love letter, obviously. It wasn’t a love letter, but it was as good as any. Tickets to a concert he had been looking forward to, two places. It wasn’t a love letter, obviously. But it felt, almost, like being asked on a date.

“Hell yeah” he shouted, not caring much if they got detention “Shouta, you’re the best.”

You deserve better

I know

But I’d be a liar, if I said I didn’t want to take a chance with us.

Chapter Text

He didn’t expect it to go this way. He didn’t expect Hizashi to get hurt by a sentence he used to tell him everyday, a sentence he had come to consider their own personal greeting (You’re annoying) a sentence Hizashi usually welcomed with a smile, with a joke (But you love) (the sound of my voice) He didn’t expect Hizashi to get hurt, let alone cry. It made sense, though. It made sense and he realized his mistake when he found him, in tears, sitting on the bathroom floor, his knees to his chest, his hands on his ears, as if he was willing to shut himself out of the world.

His colorful glasses

put aside

His hearing aids

cast away

He neither wanted to perceive

or be perceived

He should have considered the possibility. His friend hadn’t been himself, not in days, he was bound to crack, one day or the other, no matter how long he could put a straight face on, he was bound to crack. Especially since Aizawa had been ignoring him, his many messages, the songs he was sending, the videos he wanted him to watch. Aizawa had been ignoring him, not on purpose, of course not, but it was easier to keep a secret from someone you don’t interact with, but it was easier to keep a secret if you don’t talk. And he wanted the concert to be a surprise. And he wanted the concert to be a pleasant surprise. If only he had known his attitude would make his friend cry, he would have reconsidered, done it differently. Seeing Hizashi cry was scary, and Aizawa wasn’t easily scared. 

The always smiling

always radiant Hizashi

The always joking

always joyful Hizashi

sitting on the floor

like an helpless scared little child

What happened?

Would he ever know?

What happened?

Would he ever tell?

He solemnly swore

he wouldn’t let it happen again

Naïve fool

Sweet innocent child

Life isn’t kind, that way

It never is

Except he was fifteen

clumsy and shy

At least it went better, afterwards. At least, when he offered him to go to the rooftop, when he offered him to skip class, when he gave him the gift, Hizashi went back to normal, even if only for a little while. Hizashi went back to normal, made jokes about how Aizawa was about to confess his love or something (Hizashi was keen on making those) (and more often lately) (he never understood what was so funny about it but) (as long as it made his friend happy) (he wouldn’t mind) Hizashi went back to normal, pulled him into a hug, as a way of saying thank you, probably, a hug Aizawa chose to indulge in, because his touch wasn’t desperate, his touch wasn’t worried, his touch was genuinely happy, just like it was, on the first days, so he wouldn’t mind, feeling this warmth, for a little while. (He hadn’t thought) (he would ever miss) (being touched) 

Hizashi’s hands

were gentle (today)

Hizashi’s arms

were comforting (today)

Hizashi’s smell

was pleasant (today)

Hizashi’s presence

was reassuring (today)

He closed his eyes

his lips curving into a smile

He leaned into the warmth, he leaned into the embrace. He usually wasn’t, the slightest of contact was enough to overwhelm him. He usually wasn’t, yet today was different. Today Hizashi wasn't clingy. Today Hizashi was happy. That’s why he gave the top of Aizawa’s head a small kiss, that’s why Aizawa never protested. He liked it better, when Hizashi was like this. He liked it better than the worried embraces he had been granted, in the past few days. A rub on his back, a random kiss. That felt more like his friend. 

(How I)

(missed you)

“Shouta” how I missed the sound of your voice, when you say my name “You’re the best.”

Except, one moment ago, you were sitting in the bathroom, crying. Except, you still haven’t told me why. Except, I still wonder if one concert, one night would be enough to ease what’s plaguing your heart.

(When you’re different)

(I get scared)

“You” he put a hand on Hizashi’s arm “You like the gift?” (contact) (contact reassured him) “My mother put her card in the envelope, so your family can contact her to discuss the technical details.” 

Would it be enough? One sole concert, one sole night? Would it calm your worries, would it soothe your fears? Or will you only pretendy it does? (I’m not good at this stuff) (can you talk to me?)

(I don’t want)

(to miss you again)

(I don’t want)

(to see you cry again)

(My heart) (My chest)

(ache when you do)

“Of course I do!” don’t smile like you’re not hurting (please) “I’ll have to ask my parents, but no worries” don’t purr like you’re not sad (I know you’re lying) “They- Oh no!” 

What? What’s the issue? Don’t tell me the date isn’t good, don’t tell me the band isn’t good. (Don’t tell me) (I’m not good enough) (to go out with you) (because you’re a boy and I am)

“What?” he frowned, pulled back “What’s the matter?”

Don’t call it off. Don’t call it off, otherwise I would have to go there with my mother. And, as much as I like her, this is not an event I want to share with her.

(This is an event)

(I want to share) (with you)

“I told them you’re a boy” Hizashi shrugged “Because that’s what you are” how considerate (thank you) “But you haven’t told your parents, have you?” Aizawa shook his head “So I, you know” his friend scratched the back of his head in embarrassment “I might have to tell my mom, the truth about you” well, that moment had to happen sooner or later, no? it wasn’t like he could conceal the body he was born with “I don’t want you to be outed to your parents that way.”

You’re kind. You’re way too kind. A few moments ago, you were crying, alone in the bathroom. A few moments ago, your pain was so overwhelming you had to take off your glasses, take off your hearing aids. And all you think about is my well-being? 

You’ll make

such a great hero

Yamada Hizashi

And I will always

look pale

in comparison

You’re radiant

after all

You’re the sun

“Is that okay with you” how could it not be okay? “Shouta?” 

I don’t care. I honestly don't care. If it makes you feel better, it’s worth a little sacrifice (it’s worth being called a name) (that doesn’t feel like mine) I don’t care. I honestly don’t care. If it makes you feel better, I can endure it (I can endure the name) (I can endure the pain) (of not being seen) (the way I require) I can endure it, I’ve done it before.

“You can tell them” he crossed his arms on his chest, looked away “I don’t mind.”

I honestly don’t care

as long as you smile

“Yeah, babyyy~" that shout was insanely loud, it’d be a miracle if a teacher didn’t show up to reprimand them for skipping class and climbing on the rooftop “Party all night!”

He never asked questions, following his mother’s advice. He never asked questions, waiting for Hizashi to come to him, to talk, laying safe grounds to feel comfortable sharing an aspect of his life, a struggle, he was reluctant to share. He never asked questions, even though the questions were burning his tongue, on the rooftop first (Why were you crying) (so much?) (What was hurting you) (so much?) (Who?) (And, more importantly) (what can I do) (to ease your pain?) on the days that followed even more. He never asked questions, only remained a comforting, or at least he hoped to be a comforting, everlasting presence. He never asked questions, even though he was dying to. Dying to.

When the day would come

his presence wouldn’t be enough anymore

what would he do?

what would he say?

When the day would come

Hizashi would require words, actions

would he be able to do

what was expected of him?

(You said you’d be) (a better friend)

(but can you be?)

When the day would come

Hizashi would reveal what he had concealed so far

would he accept him for who he was

just like he had accepted Aizawa, for who he was?

When the day would come

death would be knocking

would he be strong enough

to stop the ominous tolling of the bells?

(You said you’d be) (a trustworthy hero)

(but can you be?)

He never asked questions and, if Hizashi’s state of mind didn’t improve in the slightest, at least, it doesn't seem to be getting any worse either. He was still pulling the same pranks, telling the same jokes and his touch might have found some of its clinginess back, yet it was still somehow manageable. Somehow manageable, or he was now getting used to being held so closely, all the time, he didn’t know for sure. Nonetheless, it wasn’t making him as uncomfortable as it was, before. Nonetheless, there was a soft familiar feeling, pervading the arms hugging him tight. Nonetheless, his friend seemed to be holding it together, one way or the other. But he was positive, but he was sure there was more he could do. Someone with his grades, someone of his talents. There must be more that he could do.

(There must be)

(There must) (be)

(You’re not) (a good friend)

(You’re not) (a good hero)

(You think) (too much)

(You act) (too little)

(There must be)

(There must) (be)

(When it matters the more)

(your skills are as good as) (nothing)

He didn’t know. He didn’t know so he did nothing, so he said nothing. He didn’t know so he waited, so he let all the days pass, until the concert was upon them and he had still no idea what could be wrong with the one he dared to call his best friend. He did nothing, he said nothing. And now Hizashi was about to come ringing at his front door and he had no clue what was expected of him, as he was about to have a guest in his own room, someone like him no less, who was a boy yet not perceived as a boy. He didn’t know. He didn’t know and all he could do was stare in blank, his phone in his hand, unable to move, unable to get into motion, stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck

until

“Ayumi?” the name (Ayumi) the name that made him jump in his chair (Ayumi) the name that hurt him, physically (Ayumi) “Ayumi? Can you come down? Your friend is here.”

Until he had no other choice but to get on the move.

“Hi” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets “You’re early.”

It was his first time seeing Hizashi outside of school. It was his first time seeing Hizashi wearing anything else but their school uniform or his provisional hero costume. It was his first time, and he couldn’t help staring, analyzing all the details. Outfits tell a lot about a person, or so they say. Perhaps there was a clue, in here, somewhere. A clue to all Hizashi was hiding and didn’t want to tell.

His hair was still done

in the same silly upward way

He was also wearing

the same orange shades as usual

Though on his ear, apart from the aids

piercings, and a lot of those

(How come) (his parents agreed?)

A top from the band they were about to see tonight

And some fishnet underneath

(Fishnet) (a strange choice)

Bracelets, rings, necklaces

his nails were painted red and black

Ripped pants, more fishnet underneath

(He might really) (like it)

Color socks

and heavy black combat boots

No clue

Nowhere he could see, at least

Yet this style, overall

It suited him, a lot

“Of course I’m early” Hizashi flashed a grin, threw an arm around his shoulder, not caring much about his parents still being around “I have to help you get ready, after all~.”

What did he mean, get ready? A hoodie and sweatpants would do, he didn’t plan on wearing anything that’d make him uncomfortable. Or would reveal too much. He couldn’t bind his chest, not after a whole week of class, and now his options were limited.

“I don’t need-”

“No, no, no, NO!” Hizashi dramatically cut him “This is a concert, Sh-” oi! “My friend” oh “Your first concert, no less” thank you, for not saying it “You have to be perfectly dressed for it” the name “Do you mind, Mrs. Aizawa?”

To say his mother and father had to see Hizashi act this way. To say his mother and father had to see Hizashi get his hands all over him. He would never hear the end of it.

“Absolutely not” his mother chuckled “Ayumi’s room is the first door on your right” showing them the way “And, Yamada, please don’t dress her too fancily.”

He tensed, at the mention of the feminine. And Hizashi probably noticed, for he pulled him a little closer.

“Don’t worry, ma’am” how can you do it? “I’ve the perfect fit” how can you smile, always? “You’ll see.”

(When they don’t) (call me my name)

(I want to) (run)

(When they don’t) (call me my name)

(I want to) (hide)

(And you)

(You brush it) (with a smile)

(I admire you)

(I admire your strength)

(I wish my smile) (when I face hardships)

(was as bright as yours)

(But mine)

(only looks forced) (weird)

He objected to it, at first. He didn’t want to go to a place he didn’t know, to an event he had no idea how it would turn out dressed in an outfit he hadn’t chosen. He objected to it, yet he had to admit Hizashi had been right (Hizashi was always right) (when it came to fashion) (he had an eye for it) The fit was perfect. The t-shirt he had picked was black but also wide enough to hide his curves, the pants were masking most of his hips. He had thought it through, once more. He had thought it through, took his feelings, his tastes into consideration, of course he would, Hizashi was dedicated that way, loud and annoying for most, yet he always had a word, yet he always had a gesture, to show Aizawa he was there, to show Aizawa he cared (You're kind) (You're) (oh) (so kind) One sole word, one sole gesture and he knew how to make Aizawa feel better with himself.

Whereas I still don’t know

how to make you feel better with your own self

I’m so

despicable

“You have fun, alright?” his dad told them, waving his hand slowly “Ayumi, send me a text when you’re done, and I’ll come pick you up.”

Whereas I still don’t have the strength

to stand up for who I am

I’m so

pathetic

“Come on, Shouta” at least there was Yamada Hizashi “Let’s have some fun” at least there would always be Yamada Hizashi “Alright~?”

He simply wasn’t

aware of it yet

The concert was loud, and the room was crowded. The lights were bright, and there were people everywhere. He was bumped into, many times, caught between fans jumping and shouting lyrics he didn’t know. It was hell, confined to one place in town. Yet he didn’t mind, not so much. He didn’t mind, because his eyes couldn’t leave his friend, his eyes couldn’t leave Hizashi. (Staring at the sun) (it’s too bright) (yet) Hizashi. Hizashi was happy. The crowd, the music were his element and it was quite a sight to see him dance, quite a sight to hear him sing, alright, shout was closer to the truth, whatever, he didn’t care, everyone was shouting. (Yet I can’t) (take my eyes off you) Hizashi was happy, Hizashi was so happy. So happy Aizawa couldn’t recall when was the last time he saw him smile like this.

If ever

(I love) (that smile)

He should have treasured this smile, while he could still see it. He should have treasured this smile, while it still lasted. It wasn’t much, to be honest. A bright spark, in the blazing façade Hizashi was wearing in public. A bright spark of his inner joy, of his inner truth. It wasn’t much, though it was there. It was there, and it could be seen. It was there, and he could reach out. Or at least, try to (Reach out) (Touch faith) He should have treasured it, this smile. Because, as the years would pass, as they would grow older, there was nothing else he would miss more than the sincerity of a spontaneous smile on Hizashi’s lips.

The brighter the stars

The faster they burn

“It was amaziiiiing” Hizashi went on and on, rocking back and forth on the futon they had laid out for him, for the night “That moment when they played This Means War , did you see?” no, I only saw you “The singer looked so cool” you looked so cool “Best night of my life!”

No, you look so cool, still. With your hair down like this, I think I like it even better. With your normal glasses, and your eyes, they are red, it’s pretty. (Are you ashamed of them?) (You shouldn’t be)

(I love)

(your hair)

(I love)

(your eyes)

(Smile again)

(Please?)

“Shouta, Shouta, Shouta” you’re so lively tonight “We should do this again, go to more concerts together” will you be able to sleep? (will I be?) “Who knows, you might even end up liking it~!”

I liked it. I like it. I like it there, with you. I like it here, with you.

(Can you)

(stay?)

(Can you)

(hold me?)

(Why do I)

(Why) (do I)

“Who knows” he smiled “Then you’ll be stuck with me.”

“Damn~!”

(Why do I want)

(to kiss you?)

Oh.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. Shouta wasn’t seeing it as such, Shouta would never see it as such. (Chances were) (Shouta would never see him) (as such) It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. He shouldn’t consider it as such. He shouldn’t even begin to consider it as such. (Yet) (on this night) (in his room) (as he was picking his outfit) (as he was doing his hair) (his heart was beating) It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. It was solely a Friday night, between friends. It was solely a Friday night he would spend at his best friend’s. He should consider himself lucky. Regarding the nature of Shouta’s gender, regarding how he was still closeted to his parents, he should consider himself lucky he was offered to spend the night, after the concert. (Shouta’s parents seemed open-minded) (if they allowed Yamada into their child’s room) (Yamada, whom they never met) (only heard of) (what was keeping him from telling the truth?)

The fear of rejection

You, of all people, should know

It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. He repeated himself, over and over again, as he was packing his stuff for the weekend, as he was making sure to pick clothes for Shouta as well, no way he would let him go out wearing what he assumed would be an ugly, yet probably comfortable to him, outfit. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. They would shout, they would dance (or he would) (shout) (dance) (and Shouta would lay his tired weary eyes on him) but it was all it would be. No hands holding, no kisses in the red lights of the projectors. No confession in the crowd, no ‘I love you’ whispered in the dark. Those only happened in romcoms and life wasn’t a romcom, though he sometimes wished it was, it would make the whole seduction easier. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. Shouta invited him because he was worried about him, because he had been clingy, too clingy, not because he liked him (alright) (Shouta liked him) (as a friend) not because he wanted to go out with him.

Yet he happened to wonder

if Shouta would like his hair, his outfit

Yet he happened to wonder

if Shouta would notice his jewels, his nails

Yet he happened to wonder

if life couldn’t be tantamount to a romcom, only for tonight

He was nervous when he showed up to the Aizawas’ house, he probably went over the top with the clothes (truth was) (he wanted to impress Shouta) (Shouta who couldn’t care less about fashion) (how desperate was he, honestly) He was nervous, yet his parents happened to be gentle, welcoming and quite easy to speak to. Even though he didn’t like the name they were using to refer to their son, he had to be fair, they couldn’t do otherwise, they hadn’t be told the truth, yet, Shouta was lowering his head every time they did, Shouta was tensing every time they did, he had to cheer him up, carry the conversation in his stand, be a little silly, be a little goofy, annoy him so he wouldn’t think about it (how desperate was he, honestly) 

At least he wore

the outfit he picked for him

At least he seemed at ease in

the outfit he picked for him

That was

a consolation of sorts

He was nervous in the house, he was nervous at the concert even more. The night, the crowd he was comfortable with, he hadn’t been to many concerts, at least not as much as he wanted to, he was still too young, but he liked it, he liked it so much, he lived for it, he thrived for it. The night, the crowd, the loud music were the core of his life, he even intended to make it the core of his hero job, he shouldn’t be nervous, not in this kind of environment. But Shouta, all night, at all times, was staring at him. All the more when he thought Yamada wasn’t aware he was. But Shouta, all night, at all times, kept his eyes on him and never on whatever might be happening on stage.

(Why?)

(Why are you staring at me?)

(Do I look weird?)

(Do I act weird?)

(No) (Not in the middle of a crowd)

(A concert) (was his element)

(Why?)

(Why are you so focused on me?)

(Are you still worried about me?)

(Because, last time, you found me crying?)

(Well, those occurred, once in a while)

(His emotions were taking over, and it was quite spectacular)

(Why?)

(Why are you so worried about me?)

(It won’t happen again, I swear)

(And definitely not in a place like this)

(It was quite spectacular, but the crises never last)

(And he was soon returning to normal, after that)

(Don’t worry, Shouta)

(I’m fine)

(I just happen to love you)

(That’s why I’m a little weird, sometimes)

(Don’t worry, Shouta)

(I’m having fun) (and you should too)

(I just happen to love you)

(That’s why I’m a little clingy, sometimes)

(If he wasn’t afraid) (of so much)

(Perhaps tonight) (Perhaps today)

If life could be tantamount to fiction, sometimes, it would be a lot easier, on so many levels.

“It was amaziiiiing” so he kept talking, over and over and over, because he didn’t want the moment to end, because he didn’t want the night to end “That moment when they played This Means War , did you see?” of course he didn’t, he only looked at Yamada “The singer looked so cool” and that, somehow, warmed his heart (even if Shouta) (probably had his own reasons) “Best night of my life!”

This is not a date

Yamada Hizashi

Except it felt like it. Now he was sitting on the futon the Aizawas had laid down on the floor of Shouta’s room, Shouta’s room being everything he expected it to be, with the periodic table on the wall alongside equations that were making his head spin (what a math nerd) and pictures of cats, with each and every item carefully put where it was supposed to, nothing crooked, nothing out of line, it was scary, in a good way, Yamada’s room was such complete chaos, anyway, the futon, he was sitting on the futon, moving his hands around, rambling about a concert he probably was the only one to have actually enjoyed.

This wasn’t a date

Yamada Hizashi

“Shouta, Shouta, Shouta” so don’t get too excited (but his heart) (his heart) “We should do this again, go to more concerts together” so don’t get your hopes up (it was beating) (fast, oh so fast) “Who knows, you might even end up liking it~!”

It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t. Except, right here, right now, it felt very much like it. Because his hair was brushed down, and nobody besides his parents had seen him with his hair down, because his shades were gone, replaced with standard glasses (his eyesight was poor too) (as if being deaf wasn’t enough) (as if not being able to go out in the sun wasn’t enough) (his body was a joke) making his red irises visible. Because he had made himself vulnerable, by willing to spend the night, and he hoped Shouta would notice the efforts.

(I let you know me)

(see me)

(I give you a rare gift)

(In hope you’d want it)

(Do you believe you could see me)

(the way I see you?)

“Who knows” he didn’t expect this kind of answer “Then you’ll be stuck with me.”

As a matter of fact, he expected Shouta to argue a concert was pointless, too loud, too crowded and he’d rather stay at home than accompany him on his nonsense. As a matter of fact, he expected any kind of answer, besides one going his way. As such, he was genuinely surprised. And

“Damn~!” was all he could utter.

This isn’t a date

Calm down

This doesn’t mean anything

Calm the fuck down

Stuck with you

What do you mean, stuck with you

I want to be stuck with you

My whole life, if you ask me to

CaLM DoWn

CaLM tHe FUcK DoWn

Stuck with you

Does it mean you want to be stuck with me?

(Calm down)

(Calm down)

(Calm down)

(Calm down)

(Calm down)

Shouta was different tonight. He could tell. He could tell because, despite being way past his bedtime, he would know, Shouta always stopped answering his messages around the same hour, 11pm on a school night, 1am during the weekends, he had troubles falling asleep or so it seemed, anyway, it was late now, later than that, and Shouta didn’t seem to be willing to sleep. Worse, Shouta didn’t even seem to be willing to get in his own bed, as he remained sitting on Yamada’s futon, his legs crossed, his eyes still staring, silently so. Shouta was different tonight, all right. Though it would be better if he actually fucking told why. 

Is it my body?

Is it my eyes?

Is it something I did?

Is my voice too loud?

You could have erased it, any time

You didn’t, you never did

Are you overwhelmed?

Should I shut up?

Or does my voice please you?

Should I go on?

Talk to me

Talk to me

Talk to me

“Hizashi” a thrill went down his spine, at the way Shouta was saying his name (since that day he saw him cry) (he never called him his family name again) (only Hizashi) (he had noticed) “You look better, you had me worried, lately” he wanted to touch him, once more (calm down) (calm the fuck down) (this doesn’t mean) (anything) “You were… I don’t know, sad? Scared for sure” how can you know all this? I never told you, I never told anyone how I felt, I hid it even, how can you know? “I never asked, respected your silence but” but my silence is heavy to you, just like your silence is heavy to me “I feel powerless, and I want to help you feel better.”

Then tell me you love me

Tell me you love me

You can’t decently ask someone something like this, uh? 

“I” he tilted his head, forced a smile “I want to tell you” allowed himself to gently hold Shouta’s hands, preparing himself for a potential recoiling movement (Shouta was never really fond) (of physical contact) (but Yamada was) (too much) “I want to tell you, but I’m scared” except Shouta didn’t let go of his hands, on the contrary, he squeezed back (strange) (he never did) (not even once) “I’m really scared.”

(If I tell you)

(and you say no)

(What would I do?)

(If I tell you)

(and you reject me)

(What would I do?)

(You said)

(I’d be stuck with you)

(That’s what) 

(I look forward to)

(Can you wait for me)

(a little longer?)

“Hizashi” my name, my name on your beautiful lips (your beautiful) (kissable) calm down (lips) “Whatever it is, it's okay” no, it's not (I have feelings for you) (do you know) (what this means?) “You might be scared but I won't be scared away” you should be scared (I'm not) (suitable) (for a relationship) “You can talk to me.”

I'm barely suitable for friendship. How can I hope for more? How can I wish for more? 

With this body

With my disabilities

Better pray

for a miracle

I can't

I can't

I can't

(I'm sorry)

(I'm so sorry)

(A life with someone like me) 

(would be no life at all)

“Can I” and I'd rather have you as a friend “Hug you?” than not having you, at all.

(I'm too loud)

(for you)

(I'm too annoying)

(for you)

(You deserve)

(peace and quiet)

“You're asking now?” Shouta scoffed, though he squeezed his hands all the same “Whatever you need.”

(I need)

(your mouth)

(I need)

(your lips)

(I need)

(your love)

True. Usually, he wasn’t asking. Usually, he was simply throwing an arm around Shouta’s shoulders, around Shouta’s waist, pulling him closer before he could even protest about how annoying it could be. True. Usually, he didn’t bother asking. Except tonight was different. Except, tonight, Shouta was different. Laying on him those eyes Yamada could never read. Holding his hands in a way Yamada couldn’t decipher. (Worry?) (Concern?) 

Hoping for more

would be a delusion of the mind

More

Is it too much to ask?

(I need)

(you)

It was slow, it was shy. As if he never touched Shouta before, as if he never held Shouta before. It was slow, it was shy. Though it was worth every second of its suspended awkwardness. For Shouta was hugging back, and Yamada couldn’t recall a moment when he did. For Shouta put his hands on his back, taking fistfuls on his clothing, perhaps trying to bring him a little closer, he didn’t know. For Shouta was resting his forehead against his chest, he was trembling, it was slight, except Yamada was paying enough attention, he always was, he might sound careless but he didn’t want to overstep his boundaries too much, one sudden change in Shouta’s attitude and he would stop his silliness altogether. It was slow, it was shy, it was reciprocated and he definitely didn’t know what to do with this unexpected information.

(I want to kiss you)

(I really want to kiss you)

(Hoping for more)

(would be a delusion of the mind)

(I don’t want tonight) (to stop)

(I don’t want tonight) (to end)

“Why don’t you tell me” I can’t tell you, Shouta, I’m sorry (this is) (how much of a coward) (I am) “About all the concerts we could go to, together?”

Oh, that. That he could do. That he could do pretty easily. Except

“It would take me all night” he chuckled “If not more, are you ready for it?”

This doesn’t mean anything (He is your friend) Don’t get your hopes up (He is your best friend) (just like you are his) This wasn’t a date, this isn’t a date (He doesn’t want more) (You do) Don’t fool yourself into thinking it is.

“I don’t mind.”

“I knew you liked the sound of my voice~.”

It wasn’t easy. When they laid down on the futon, switched off the lights, and Shouta decided he’d rather sleep here, instead of his bed. It wasn’t easy. When he started talking and talking and talking, keeping his eyes on the ceiling, now his sight had adjusted to the darkness, so he wouldn’t look at Shouta, so he wouldn’t make contact with his eyes he knew to be staring, he could feel it, he could feel it pretty well. It wasn’t easy. As Shouta fell asleep eventually, wrapped in the blanket so tightly Yamada wondered how he could grab a tiny portion of it, without waking him up, since he was cute when he was sleeping, very cute, with his frown on his too serious face and his clenched fist pressing on his chest. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy, and he couldn’t resist.

He couldn’t resist

moving a few bangs away from his eyes

smiling

He couldn’t resist

pressing a tender kiss to his forehead

shivering

He couldn’t resist

laying his body close to his, the closest he could

his heart beating

He couldn’t resist

listening to his regular breathing, 

struggling not to yell

(Why am I)

(doing this)

(to myself?)

(Why am I)

(doing this)

(to myself?)

(Why am I)

(doing this)

(to myself?)

(Why am I)

(doing this)

(to myself?)

Why am I

He woke up. He woke up to a bright room (too bright) what time is it? (in the morning) and the blurry shape of a familiar figure (oh so) (he fell asleep) (in the end) He woke up, extended a lazy hand (his glasses) (he needed his glasses) grabbed them, put them on, glanced in the direction of his friend. All to realize Shouta was already awake, staring at him as intensely as he was yesterday.

Why are you

staring so much?

Is there something

you want to tell me?

“You’re awake.”

You could have found something else to say, Yamada Hizashi. (But it was early in the morning) (and his brain never worked well in the morning) (too distracted) (unable to focus) (always forgetting stuff) (always late) 

“So are you” Shouta’s voice sounded rather tired “Slept well?”

For how long have you stayed still, watching me sleep?

“Alright” his lips curved into a smirk “Someone kept stealing the blanket, woke up because of cold feet.”

Cold feet suit you, coward that you are.

Enough

“Don’t know what you’re talking about” though Shouta went on with the joke, pulling more of the blanket away from Yamada on purpose “You have plenty of it.”

Oh, so you wanna play, uh? (Let’s play)

Don’t

“Give it back, Shouta.”

“Come get it.”

They sparred. Like teenagers sparred. Like teenagers should spar. They sparred. Nothing too serious, they didn’t mean it, it was simply fun and games. Or it should be. Except it was too early in the morning, he hadn’t slept enough and Shouta was better than him, he had always been, Shouta always had insane moves on the training grounds, it was unfair. Except it was too early in the morning, he couldn’t focus enough and it wasn’t long before he was down on his back, his palms open in reddition.

“Fine, fine” he mumbled “I give up, I’m not awake enough for this.”

“Are you” Shouta sat next to him, crossed his legs “Going to use that excuse against a real villain?”

The atmosphere had changed, he felt it.

“You’re not a real villain.”

The atmosphere had changed, his heart was beating faster and it wasn’t because he threw three lazy punches and kicks at his friend, no, it was different.

“No, I’m not.”

The atmosphere had changed. Yet, when Shouta leaned in, when Shouta kissed him, he couldn’t say he had seen it coming.

Chapter Text

He had kissed Hizashi. He had kissed his friend. It wasn’t part of the plan, when he invited him to a concert. It wasn’t part of the plan, when he invited him to spend the night. Yet it happened. Yet he kissed him.

(It was)

(his first kiss)

(He had never done it) (before) (never)

(He had only) (theoretical knowledge of it)

(He was)

(quite shy)

(Just a peck) (on Hizashi’s lips)

(a swift brush of his mouth against his)

(He didn’t know)

(if it was enough)

(to count) (as his first)

(to count) (as their first)

(At least) (it was enough)

(to convey) (his feelings) (his intentions)

He never dated anyone before. No boy, no girl. He never dated anyone before, only nurtured silent crushes, not daring to confess his feelings, hard to, when you have to hide your identity, when you have to hide who you truly are. He never dated anyone before, hence he didn’t know the rules, hence he didn’t know what was expected of him. His ressource materials were TV shows, movies, books and he knew for a fact those tended to romance situations and stray too much from reality. He never dated anyone before, hence he didn’t know if more was expected of him.

Perhaps he should

voice his feelings

But speaking was often complicated

and speaking his feelings all the more

Perhaps he should

touch Hizashi more

Hizashi liked physical contact

yet Aizawa wasn’t good at it to begin with

Perhaps he should

ask Hizashi on a date, a real date this time

Except he had no idea where to go

or what Hizashi would like to do, with him

He didn’t know

He didn’t know anything

Their relationship had changed, since the kiss. Even if none of them said anything, even if none of them took the risk to acknowledge it. It had changed, they had changed. Hizashi was keener on touching him, and he was less reluctant to indulge in it, on the contrary, Hizashi’s touch was comforting, Hizashi’s embraces were warm, and he could almost fall asleep, when Hizashi was holding him in his arms, when he was resting his head on his chest, almost, if it weren’t for the tremendous beating of Hizashi’s heart (Fast) (so fast) It had changed, they had changed. They were holding hands now, on the rooftop, during lunch breaks, when no one could see them, when no one could interrupt them, they were holding hands and Hizashi was whistling, looking away, singing a song, all to pretend he wasn’t embarrassed and shy (Cute) (so cute) It had changed, they had changed. Aizawa was now smiling, at the sound of his voice. 

He wanted to kiss him

He wanted to kiss him all the time

When Hizashi was telling a bad joke

When Hizashi was singing a song

When they were eating together, or having a drink during breaks

When they were holding hands, hugging, cuddling

When he was falling asleep in math class

When he was helping Aizawa correct his spelling mistakes

When they were training together

When they were walking home after class

When they were texting until it was insanely late

When he was sending Aizawa the stupidest selfies

All the time

All the fucking time

He didn’t know if he should, he didn’t know if he could, and he was afraid to ask. He had made a move. Once, twice, thrice. He had made a move, then he stopped. Because, each time he tried, each time he drew his face a little closer, not too quick, not too fast, only to test the waters, Hizashi recoiled or turned his head away. He tried to rationalize the reaction, he was still trying.

(Hizashi is shy) (despite his loud personality)

(He needs) (time)

(Hizashi likes you) (you don’t have to worry)

(He bombs you with messages) (and gifts)

(Hizashi is shy) (a lot more than you)

(He still blushes) (when you hold hands)

(Hizashi likes you) (you don’t have to fret)

(He spends all his free time) (with you)

(Hizashi is shy) (despite his apparent self-confidence)

(He still shivers) (when you cuddle)

(Hizashi likes you) (you don’t have to doubt)

(He looks at you) (as if you’re a treasure)

Wait

All he needed was to wait

Maybe he should look for advice, even if the internet was far from being a reliable source on the matter. Maybe he should ask for advice, even if bringing such a subject to the family table was bound to trigger questions he wasn’t willing to be asked yet (His mother knew) (obviously) (the pink envelope and the hearts around Hizashi’s name) (she knew before he even did) He wished he wasn’t so different, he wished he wasn’t so weird. He wished emotions, feelings were as easy as any problem, as any equation.

Then he would know

what to do

At least it felt nice, to lie down on the floor of the rooftop, watching the clouds pass by. At least it felt nice, to rest his head on Hizashi’s chest, and the gentle touch of Hizashi’s fingers in his hair. At least it felt nice, to hold hands, to listen to Hizashi’s music (Hizashi was always introducing him) (to new genres) (new bands) (and it turned out) (he had a lot to discover) to listen to Hizashi hum, sing along. At least it felt nice, all the little moments they had, all the little moments they shared.

I love you

Yamada Hizashi

Your lips felt nice

this morning, in my room

Can I

taste them again?

Why is it so hard to ask? Why is it so hard to speak?

“Shouta” until that one day, until that one lunch break “Shouta, would you like” Hizashi asked what he never dared to “To go on a date with me?” Hizashi asked, and he was grateful he did (because he) (probably) (would have never) “A real date, we could go to the aquarium, see the fishes” except when Hizashi started talking, he could rarely stop on his own “Do you like fishes, Shō?”

And under his cheek

Hizashi’s heart was beating

Fast

Fast

Fast

Fast

Fast

“Yes” he mumbled, playing with Hizashi’s fingers between his “I like them, they’re pretty” trying to ignore the tremendous beating of his own heart (finally) (finally) “And aquariums are calm, it’s soothing.”

(Finally)

(Finally) (you asked)

(So it was okay) (to ask for a date)

(he should have assumed) (as much)

(Finally)

(Finally) (you offered)

(So it was okay) (to go out together)

(after a single kiss)

What does it make of us?

I still wonder

“Perfect~” Hizashi pulled out his phone, gave the top of his head a gentle kiss “When are you free? How does Saturday sound?”

Wait, like this Saturday? (You could have) (warned me sooner) (You know I don’t like) (last minute plans) But you never really plan anything, do you?

Am I

your boyfriend?

“Yeah, fine” he didn’t like last minute plans, yet he agreed to this last minute plan (because he had been waiting) (for this moment) (he had been waiting for days) “Should we meet somewhere?”

Are we

together?

“Hmm, I can come pick you up, it’ll be easier” Hizashi scrolled at the transports map “Or you’ll get lost again, there’s a few changes to get there” the subway was his personal nemesis, and the amount of people coming and going didn’t make it easier to deal with “And I already know where you live~” it’s not like it’s some big secret, dummy “How does that sound?”

The easiest way, the most logical solution, the most rational solution. Except he would have to warn his parents Hizashi would be coming, except they would expect him to say hi, since they knew each other. Except he would have to tell his parents, except he wouldn’t be able to tell his mother it was anything other than a date. Because he looked like a girl, because Hizashi was a boy. Because he was in love with his best friend, because his best friend wasn’t indifferent either.

Do you

love me?

“Great” he rose up, stretched “Don’t forget to give me the time, I’ll tell mom and dad.”

“Suuure~” Hizashi pointed finger guns at him “Make sure to wear something nice” something nice, uh? he had nothing like that, only practical clothes (and he couldn’t ask his mother for help) (on this one) (she would insist he’d wear a dress) (and he hated dresses) “I insist, Shouta, not those ugly sweatpants” but they were comfortable “Or that ugly hoodie” but it hid his curves pretty well, and he didn’t have have to bind “It’s date, after all~♡.”

Right, it was a date. Not a joke, not a casual moment between friends. It was a date, a real date. Because they had kissed. Because they were holding hands. Because they were hoping for more than friendship, while still being clumsy, very clumsy, with their feelings. (Honestly) (he wouldn’t have believed Hizashi) (to be this shy)

Because I am

very much in love with you

A date. It was a date. And the more he went through his wardrobe, the less he was finding something suitable to wear. All the clothes he felt comfortable with were unfit for anything of a romantic nature. And all the clothes that were fit for anything of a romantic nature were screaming girl, hence making him utterly uncomfortable.

A pair of jeans

(Too casual)

A flower skirt

(No fucking way)

His oversized black shirt

(Too plain)

The blue dress he wore for Christmas

(He’d rather die)

His favorite yellow jacket

(Okay, maybe?)

Pink thighs

(No, never)

Gray pants

(where were) (his gray pants?)

Red dress, green skirt, shorts, thighs

(No) (No) (No) (No)

Nothing to wear

Nothing to wear at all

He would look

ugly, neglected

He would look

girly, nothing like himself

Nothing to wear

Nothing to wear at all

“Ayumi?” stupid name (and he startled) (at the careful knocks on his door) “A-” no, not again! “Kitten, can I come in?”

He shouldn’t let his mother in. He shouldn’t ask his mother for help. She would insist he’d wear an outfit he wouldn’t have chosen for himself. She would insist he’d wear an outfit that wasn’t matching how he truly felt.

I can’t

mom

I can’t date Hizashi

looking like a girl

This isn’t who I am

and he knows

This isn’t who I am

and I would like you to know, as well

I can’t

mom

I can’t date Hizashi

not being myself

You have to understand

You have to

“Ayumi?”

(Stop) (with that) (fucking name)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(The last thing I need now) (are) (the echoes)

“Yeah” he sighed, rubbed his forehead “Yeah, mom, come in.”

He knew. He knew the moment his mother came in, he knew the moment his mother took a look at the messy pile of clothes on his bed, on the floor. He knew she would like to help. He knew she would only care about helping who she still believed to be his little girl.

But I am

not a girl

(I never was)

“My, my, you surely made a mess there, didn’t you?” she giggled, put a hand over her mouth “Do you need help?” yes, but not from you (don’t get me wrong) (I don’t blame you) (as you don’t know the truth) this is my fault “Something Yamada would like?”

I don’t know what Hizashi would like. I don’t know if he’d like to see me in a suit, in a nice shirt, or simply in an outfit that I like. I don’t know. I don’t know, so how could you?

I am not

a girl

(I will never be)

“No, I’m fine” he averted his eyes, now wasn’t exactly the time to confront his mother “I’ll find something.”

(Dresses and skirts won’t change that fact)

“Don’t lie to me, I know that grim look” except his mother was, well, his mother “You have no clue how you should dress, don’t you?” she could read him pretty well, after all those years “It’s your first date, after all.”

Yes. His first date. (His heart was beating) (fast) It was his first date. His first date with a boy he liked, his first date with someone he was interested in (So fast) (Too fast) His first date with someone who wasn’t considering him too weird, or at least who wasn’t repulsed by his weirdness, on the contrary, who might be attracted to it. His first date with someone he touched, with someone he held, with someone he kissed (Would he be okay?) (Would he be worth staying with?)

He never

dated anyone

He feared he wasn’t

good relationship material

He barely had

any friend

He couldn’t even

pick one nice outfit

(Don’t you think)

(Hizashi deserves someone better)

“I’m fine” he repeated, and his tone started to sound annoyed (he didn’t want to argue) (not with his mother) (not today) (not ever) “I’ll find something.”

He never

dated anyone

There was obviously

a reason for it

He barely had

any friend

He was too odd

He was too broken

(Don’t you think)

(Hizashi should try his luck with someone else)

“Don’t be so grumpy, kitten” don’t call me kitten, don’t ruffle my hair (you have no idea) (how much this means to me) “Are you nervous?”

No one ever wanted to go on a date with me, before. No one even bothered to ask me out on a date, before. Of course I am nervous. Of course I am worried. 

(I am)

(not good enough)

(I am)

(such a freak)

(I am)

(not a girl)

(Yet I am)

(not even a boy)

(Don’t you think)

(you should tell Hizashi not to waste his time with you)

“A bit” he confessed “I just” scratched his cheek “Want it to go well.”

This is nonsense, I hope you’re aware. Hizashi knows you, Hizashi knows who you are. Hizashi knows your personality, Hizashi knows how you act, how you react. He knows what you like, what you dislike, didn’t he offer to go to the aquarium, because the fishes are pretty, because the place is dark, calm and soothing, the complete opposite of what a concert is? This is nonsense, I hope you’re aware. You’ve already been weird, you’ve already been weird a thousand times. If he didn’t want you in his life, he could have walked away a long time ago. 

Then what are you

so afraid of?

“Hence you need the perfect outfit” don’t, mom (this means too much to me) (I can’t have you ruin it) (with a skirt) (with a dress) “Let me help you” you have to understand “Unless you don’t want me to?”

I don’t like it. I don’t like it, when you say it like this. It makes me feel like I’m shutting you out, once more (Of course) (you are shutting her out) (you have been shutting your parents out) (for quite some time) I don’t like it. I don’t like it, when you say it like this. It makes me feel like a bad son, daughter, whatever, child. 

“I” be honest, Aizawa Shouta “I don’t want to” be honest, for once in your fucking life “I don’t want to wear a dress, or a skirt” well, that’s not too bad “Can you not pick anything of the sort?”

Can you not imply I’ll look better, if my hair was longer? Can you not imply I’ll look better in purple, pink? Can you not imply I’ll look better with makeup or hairpins? Can you not imply anything of the sort, please?

(If she does)

(you can’t blame her) (you know as much)

(If she does)

(you can only blame yourself) (you know as much)

(Because you never told the truth)

(about yourself)

“Of course, I won’t” she put her hands on her hips, mimicking an angry stance “You haven’t worn any lately, do you think I’m blind?” of course she noticed, do you think she’s stupid? “Ayumi” no! (yumi) I hate it (yumi) I hate it so much (yumi) “You’ve even switched your uniform skirt for a pair of pants” did you really think she wouldn’t? “And it’s too cold for a dress anyway, and I’m positive you haven’t shaved your legs” mom, please, stop! “There’s a lot we can do without those anyway, let me work my magic.” 

What are you

so afraid of?

And worked her magic she did, as she scanned the contents of his wardrobe, of every pile he scattered here and there with an expert eye. And worked her magic she did, as she held a few tops, trying to gauge which looked the best. And worked her magic she did, picking a white shirt he had completely forgotten he bought, the gray pants he had been so desperate to find and a dark blue jacket. And worked her magic she did, as he almost looked like a boy.

You can tell her

you know

She knew about Hizashi

before you did

There is a chance she knows

about your gender too

Tell her

Tell her, Shouta

Tell her

you never felt like a girl

Tell her

you are her son

Tell her

Tell her

Tell her

“Yes” she tilted her head to the side, a smile curving her lips “You look perfect, or maybe” maybe what? don’t tell me you have a change of heart “Maybe a tie would be better, go ask your dad one.”

What? A tie? A tie… from my dad?

She knows

She obviously knows

(What am I) (to do?)

(What am I) (to do?)

She knows

For how long had she known?

(What should) (I say?)

(What should) (I say?)

My heart

My heart

My heart

You telling me to pick a dress would have been better. You telling me to pick a skirt would have been easier.

What are you

so afraid of?

Chapter Text

It never happened, before. As far as he could remember, it never happened, before. He was stuck. Stuck before his wardrobe, at a complete loss about what he should wear. Picking an outfit for a casual day out with his friends was easy, he just had to wear what he felt like wearing, no matter how flashy or weird it could be. Picking an outfit for a concert was even easier, he just had to match the vibe of the band he was going to see. But picking an outfit for a date, that was another story. He had no clue, no idea, whatsoever. Flashy would be good for him, flashy colors usually helped him gain confidence, yet Shouta was a discreet boy, an introverted boy who loved to get lost and unnoticed in the crowd, and he should respect that (This was a date) (A date) Weird was out of the question, for the very same reasons he mentioned earlier (This was a date) (A date)

He tried to think

about what Shouta would be wearing

He told him to wear something nice

after all

There was a chance

he’d show up with his ugly sweatpants and hoodie, anyway

There was a chance

he wouldn’t make an effort, anyway

But if he did, make an effort

what would it be?

A simple top? A shirt?

A suit, maybe? (Don’t dream too much)

If they were to match, then it would be

the perfect date

He glanced at his phone, hissed. He was running out of time. If he didn’t want to be late, then he was running out of time. He had to make a decision, pick an outfit, something, anything, it wasn’t like Shouta would care much, right? (Shouta never cared about clothes) (or appearances) it wasn’t like it would make a difference, right? (Shouta was here for him) (not for his fashion looks) He had to make a decision, pick an outfit, something, anything. 

Not that top

too sparkly

Not that shirt

too pink

Not that jacket

too plain

Not that hoodie

too casual

Something

Anything

This shirt, maybe

The colors were nice, not too bright

Those pants, for sure

They would be a nice match, with the shirt

Shoes, simple ones

Black, comfortable, they would walk a bit

A tie

should he wear a tie?

Nah, too formal

He was going on a date, not a job interview

He glanced at his phone, hissed. Late. He was running late. As usual, he shouldn’t be surprised, he was always late, no matter what. As usual, he shouldn’t be worried, Shouta probably expected him to be late, today as well. As usual, yet today, he didn’t like it. (He passed a hand in hair) (adjusted his hairdo a bit) Do I (pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose) (took them off) (chose another pair) look good? (tilted his head to the side) (gauged his silhouette from head to toes) He had no time for this. He had no time for doubts. This outfit, this hairdo, those glances, those jewels. They would have to do. He would have to do. He had no time for this. He had no time for doubts.

He had to leave

He had to leave, now

He grabbed his bag, threw it on his shoulder and yelled his parents goodbye, before closing the front door in a slam. Nervous. He was nervous. He was so nervous he could barely calm himself down. (The music) (wasn’t enough to silence the thoughts in his head) (Scrolling on his phone) (wasn’t enough to keep his mind busy) Nervous. He was nervous. After all, he hadn’t been on a date, never. After all, this would be his first. 

(His first kiss)

(Then his first date)

(All this was pretty new)

(and new was somehow terrifying)

(But he was clumsy)

(when it came to feelings)

(He was either too much)

(or never enough)

(He had been too much for Shouta) (as well)

(Touching him all the time) (without his consent)

(And lately he wasn’t too much)

(Lately he was never enough)

(Shouta wanted to kiss)

(He wanted to kiss)

(He refused him) (every attempt)

(He was scared) (he couldn’t tell why)

(Liar)

(You know exactly why)

(Another kiss) (A true kiss)

(would make it a relationship)

He was never good at making friends. He was too loud, too weird, too annoying to be adequate friend material. He was never good at making friends, why would he be good at being a boyfriend? He was too deaf, too disabled, unable to focus enough on the other’s needs. 

Shouta deserves

better

Walk away

Walk away, you freak

(Silence)

He rang the doorbell with a trembling finger. 

Why would he

want you?

Why would anyone

want you?

(Silence)

(Silence)

“Oh, Yamada, hello” Shouta’s mother came to open the door, and she looked radiant, just like he remembered her “Please, come in” (Shouta and her) (were quite alike) (their hair) (their eyes) “Ayumi is waiting for you.”

Ayumi, right

(He really hated) (this name)

“Sorry I’m a little late” he scratched the back of his head, flashed a big smile “I hope you didn’t wait too long.”

“No, no, don’t worry” she made way, closed the door behind him “We just finished getting ready as well.”

There she was only being polite. He might not know her very much, though he knew Shouta. And Shouta was probably ready twenty minutes or so before the hour they agreed on, he was keen on schedule that way (so keen on his schedules) (it was somehow scary) And Shouta had probably been waiting the whole time, sitting in silence, unable to do anything but stare into the void (he often was) (when he was stuck between tasks) He should have thought about it, instead of losing his time picking an outfit Shouta was unlikely to notice, let alone comment. He should have thought about him, instead of losing his time with such vanity.

Shouta deserves

better

When was the last time

you made him a gift?

When was the last time

you made him a compliment?

You didn’t even send him a message

to tell him you were late

Do you care so little

about the others?

(Silence)

(Silence)

(Silence)

(Silence)

(Silence)

“You sure took your time” he wanted to say something, he wanted to crack a joke “Hizashi.”

He couldn’t. He could only blink, he could only gasp. Shouta was stunning. Shouta was splendid, gorgeous, marvelous, all of the above and even more, he was at a loss for words. He had somehow been afraid his parents would force him into wearing feminine, he was glad they didn’t, he was glad they went for the complete opposite. Because this outfit suited him well, the shirt, the jacket, the dress pants, nothing was out of place and he was happy to say he was surprised (His mother) (obviously helped him) And the tie was a nice touch, not to mention the knot was perfect, not crooked, not even a bit (His father) (obviously helped him)

You’re gorgeous, Shouta

You’re so gorgeous

I look so pale

I look so cheap, in comparison

I guess I should have

worn that tie, after all

“Sorry, sorry” he was so taken aback he didn’t dare to touch him (his heart) (was already threatening to explode) “You know how I am, chronically late ~” he was so taken aback he barely dared to look at him (his heart) (was beating too fast against his ribcage) “Ready to rock-n-roll ~?”

You’re radiant, Shouta

You’re so radiant

I look so dull

I look so little, in comparison

Would you hold my hand

and stay with me?

(Please)

(Please)

(Please)

(Please)

(Please)

At first, it was awkward. At first, he was awkward. Because he had never been on a date before, because he didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t know what to do, and he couldn’t rely on Shouta for that matter, Shouta probably knew even less what was expected of him, in moments like those. At first, it was awkward. At first, he was awkward. During the bus ride, when he barely knew what to say, or how to carry the conversation, yet he couldn’t stop talking, paradoxically, and Shouta was staring at him with his tired black eyes. 

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

At first, it was awkward. At first, he was awkward. It went better, once he stepped into the aquarium, bought the tickets, the two tickets, he hadn’t done anything nice for Shouta in a while, he hadn’t done anything nice for Shouta since the concert, he had to repay him, he wanted to repay him, and he offered this date, so, it was the least he could do. It went better, once he stepped into the aquarium, he was better, once they started to walk the aisle.

Shouta turned to be

quite knowledgeable about fishes

(He wasn’t surprised)

(Shouta knew a lot of random stuff) (it was crazy)

And he detailed

each and every one of them to Yamada

Pointing the animals

their colors, their shapes

(And Shouta was grabbing him by the arm) (And Shouta was leaning against him)

(He wondered) (if he was doing it on purpose, or not)

Sometimes staring in silence

at the bright colored fishes coming and going in the water

Sometimes staring in silence

and those tired black eyes were suddenly filled with stars

(He wanted to kiss him) (again)

(He wasn’t daring to) (He wasn’t daring to)

“Hizashi, come” he wasn’t interested in the fishes, not quite “There are jellyfishes, over there” he was more interested in the hand that took his, naturally, oh so naturally “Want to see them?”

He wasn’t interested in the fishes, not quite. He was more interested in the smile, in the genuine smile, those were rare, those didn’t happen often, he couldn’t recall the last time he had seen Shouta smile so brightly, anyway, he was more interested in the smile, in the genuine smile stretching those tantalizing lips.

I want to kiss you

I really want to kiss you

There is not a day, not a moment

I don’t want to kiss you

(But) (I don’t dare)

(But) (I never dare)

I want to hold you in my arms

I want to pet your hair

But there’s people everywhere

and I’m nervous

(What if) (what I want) (is too much) (for you?)

(What if) (who I am) (is too much) (for you?)

I already

talk too much

I already

touch you too much

(If I kiss you) (too much)

(you will get annoyed) (at me)

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

Shut up

He wasn’t interested in the fishes, he wasn’t interested in the trivia Shouta kept babbling on and on about, when they took a break to have a drink at the aquarium café. He wasn’t interested in the fishes, not really, he was only interested in Shouta being happy and, right now, he seemed happy, so he would care about the fishes, if it was all he required for Shouta to be happy. He wasn’t interested in the fishes, though he was somehow interested in the many plushies they had to sell, he loved plushies, he had a lot in his bedroom.

“Shouta, Shouta, look” he grabbed a shark, almost stuffed it into his friend’s face “A dangerous shark just appeared” a huge grin on his lips “Tan, tan, tan!”

“Hizashi” he loved plushies “Stop it” and the slight blush on Shouta’s cheeks all the more “You’re annoying.”

He wasn’t interested in the fishes, not really. He was only interested in making his friend laugh, in making his friend smile.

I love you

I love you so much

His friend, who kept eyeing the jellyfish keychains (he liked those) (alright) (he had been mesmerizing) (before the tank) (watching them swim in an endless peaceful dance) without daring to grab one for himself.

“Jellyfish, uh?” Hizashi offered, leaning in, a little too closely, perhaps, they were still in public, after all “Which color do you like best?”

Not his most subtle approach, though one would argue (he would argue) he never really was subtle to begin with. (Too loud) (Too annoying) (Too)

(Stupid voice)

(Endless echoes)

“I don’t care” Shouta mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets (except) (those darting eyes) (were saying otherwise) “They’re for kids, anyway.” 

“Good” Hizashi grinned, grabbing a green jellyfish keychain “Because we’re still kids” trying to assess what color would be better “No, you’re not a green guy” red, blue, pink “No, no, no” orange “Ah, maybe, maybe!” 

Purple. Turquoise.

“Yellow” Shouta scratched his cheek, and the blush on his cheeks intensified (cute) (so very cute) “My favorite color is yellow.”

Surprising, for someone who is trying to always go unnoticed. Yellow is quite vivid. Yellow is quite bright. Yellow is quite warm, bound to attract the eye. (Exactly like) (the sun)

Yellow

is the color of my hair

Yellow

is the color of my glasses

Perhaps

we are meant to be

Despite

the voice

Despite

the echoes

(I want to) (believe)

(I want to) (believe)

(I want to) (believe)

And so he bought him the jellyfish keychain. A date at the aquarium, a little gift, a hug. It was nothing compared to a concert, compared to a night at Shouta’s house. It was nothing, compared to the gift of having been granted, in the morning, a kiss he had been yearning for, for so long. (Don’t get) (your hopes up) And so he bought him the jellyfish keychain. And so he helped him attach it to his bag. And so he walked with him, all the way back to the Aizawas’ house. And so the date would end, soon, all too soon.

(Was it)

(worth it?)

(Was it)

(worth your time?)

(We didn’t)

(kiss)

(We barely)

(held hands)

(There must be more)

(I can do) (for you)

(Why am I)

(so scared?)

(Why am I)

(so shy?)

(I’m supposed to be) (the confident one)

(I am not) (I am not)

“Do you have to go” well, he couldn’t linger, he promised his parents he wouldn’t be home too late (he had his math lesson tomorrow) (uh) “Soon? Can’t you stay, a bit?”

(Yes)

(Yes, of course)

Do you want me

to stay?

(My heart)

(My heart is)

“Let me see ~” he checked his watch, considering the hour they agreed, and his tendency to run late, he would say “An hour or so” perhaps an hour and a few minutes, but no more, otherwise “Not more, my parents will kill me.”

(Sorry)

(Sorry I wasted your time)

I want to, I really want to

But I am

(My head)

(My head is)

“Alright” Shouta dragged his bag under his desk, before sitting with his legs crossed, on his bed (he looks) (I don’t know) (disappointed) “Is there something” (because of the date) (or) (because I can’t stay?) “You want to do?”

(Yes)

(Yes, of course)

I can’t voice

any of those thoughts

(My chest)

(My chest is)

“Don’t know” he let himself drop on the bed, arms resting under his head, eyes on the ceiling “What do you offer?”

A kiss. A kiss would be nice. And not a shy brush of your lips against mine, like last time. A real kiss, a true kiss. A kiss would be nice. An aquarium date, a hot cocoa at the café, the little gift I made you, our hands holding in the dark corridors. A kiss. A kiss would be a nice conclusion to it all.

A boy

can dream

“I want” what do you want? to listen to music? to play a game? (I’m up) (for anything) (as long as it’s with you) “To kiss you.”

What, WHAT?

Alright, ALRIGHT

Shouta had always been blunt, this was nothing new. 

But, BUT

Eeeeeeeeeh

“Wh-What?”

Damn, he didn’t mean to shout, he didn’t mean to lose control over his quirk, though he tended to, when his emotions were taking over, and right now, RIGHT NOW

“I want to kiss you” I heard the first time, no need to say it twice “Is it okay?”

Why do you feel the need to ask?

You’ve refused several times, moron

Sorry you feel compelled to ask

This feels very new to me, as well

I just want to do it right

So I’m positive I’ll never lose you

You’re too precious to be lost, Aizawa Shouta. (Do you know) (what this means?)

“Alright” he sat up, shook his head, took off his glasses (Shouta would see) (his eyes) “Yes, it’s okay ~” he chuckled, though all he could hear was the tremendous beating of his heart (how he hated) (his eyes) (and their weird red color) “Do you know how, though~?”

Don’t brag

As if you know how!

“In theory” Shouta’s fingers grabbed his shirt, pulled him closer “Pretty sure I can figure it out” a mischievous grin on his lips “And you can help.”

It was nothing like the shy kiss, from that morning. It was better. Shouta’s lips against his own, soft, warm, so warm he couldn’t repress a shiver, or a little mewl. Shouta’s hand on his face, Shouta’s fingers in his hair, and his heart was beating louder than before (My heart) (My head) (My chest) Shouta’s teeth gently nibbling on his lower lip, where did he learn to do that, damn, that was (Calm down) (Hizashi) (Calm the fuck down) Shouta’s tongue, against his own, when he parted his lips, when he allowed him in, clumsy at first, alright, he was as inexperienced as Yamada, clumsy for sure but

(Sweet)

(So sweet)

It was hard to breathe

He tensed, his eyelids fluttered

(How I yearned)

(for it)

He tensed, before allowing his arms

to wrap around Shouta’s shivering body

(And the reward is just)

(so much more than I could)

Bringing him closer

Leaning in the kiss

(How I love it)

(The taste of you)

Chapter Text

“I want” he had to ask “To kiss you.”

In the end, he had to ask. Because he wanted to be sure. He wanted to be sure Hizashi wanted him, the same way he wanted Hizashi. He wanted to be sure it wasn’t too early, he wanted to be sure it was the right moment, he didn’t really know, when it was, if it was, he hadn’t been in a relationship, not quite, kindergarten crushes didn’t count, did they?

“Wh-What?”

Shit. Did he whisper too low for him to hear properly? Did he mumble too much for him to process correctly? Hizashi was never verbal about his impediment (and he didn’t expect him to be) (he would talk about it) (when he wanted) (if he wanted) and Aizawa was often at a loss, when people weren’t voicing their needs and intentions clearly.

“I want to kiss you” so he repeated, a little louder, a little clearer (not too much) (he didn’t want) (Hizashi to think he was pitying him) (or something) (he wasn’t) (feeling pity) (only concern) (only) “Is it okay?”

Love

“Alright” he was surprised, honestly surprised, when Hizashi sat up, when Hizashi took off his glasses all the more (his bad hearing) (was one thing) (but his eyes) (his red eyes) (he really disliked) (showing them) “Yes, it’s okay ~” don’t chuckle, you’re nervous, aren’t you? (I’m nervous) “Do you know how, though~?”

No

I don’t

Yes

I do

I’ve never really

kissed anyone

I read books

and I watched TV shows

Only shy smooches on the lips

Never the whole grownup stuff

I’ve seen people kiss

It doesn’t seem that tricky

Yet I’m still

very nervous about all this

“In theory” his fingers grabbed the front of Hizashi’s shirt, pulling him closer (not too roughly) (not too fast) (don’t scare him away) (he said yes) (so don’t be too eager) (take your time) “Pretty sure I can figure it out” his lips curving into a smirk “And you can help.”

He was careful, this time. He was careful, unlike the kiss he gave him before, a kiss he rushed, just a peck on his lips, too fast, too quick, it was over before Hizashi could realize what just happened, he had to be fast, he had to be quick, he didn’t ask, he didn’t ask and he didn’t want Hizashi to be mad at him (Luckily) (he wasn’t) (Luckily) (he had been quite pleased) But today was different. Today he had to be careful. Because today was their first kiss. Their real first kiss.

Hizashi’s lips against his own

made his heart beat

(Warm)

(So warm)

Hizashi’s skin under the palm of his hand

made him shiver

(Smooth)

(So smooth)

Hizashi’s hair under his fingers

made him thrill

(Soft)

(So soft)

He had wanted this

He had wanted this for a long time

He was careful, this time. Hizashi might have said yes, yet Hizashi was still shy. Not kissing back, not putting his hands on Aizawa, not making a move whatsoever (It was okay) (It was alright) (Hizashi never took initiatives) (on the matter) (He could do it) (He could do it, for the both of them) He was careful, when he nibbled on Hizashi’s lower lip, he had read it, in romance novels, apparently that was a thing, to ask for permission, it was said to be great, it was said to feel great, he hoped Hizashi liked it, he hoped Hizashi felt great, he hoped, he hoped and

He refrained a gasp

when Hizashi parted his lips

He refrained a moan

when their tongues made contact

(Wet)

(So wet)

(Sweet)

(So sweet)

It was worth the time

It was worth the wait

Hizashi froze

and he wondered

Hizashi tensed

and he wondered

(Should I)

(stop now?)

(Should I)

(go on?)

(What) (do you)

(want me) (to do?)

(I don’t)

(know)

(I can’t)

(tell)

Hizashi

Hizashi

Hizashi

Though Hizashi wrapped his arms around him, around his shoulders, and brought him closer. Though Hizashi kissed back, messily at first, clumsily at first, he didn’t know how to kiss either, alright, and they would joke often about their first kiss, later on in their relationship. Though he kissed back, he kissed back and all of Aizawa’s insecurities, and all of Aizawa’s doubts disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

He didn’t want it to stop

He never wanted it to stop

It felt good

It felt so good 

Better than what the books said

but they were poorly written to begin with

Better than what the TV shows implied

but the tropes were all the same

His heart was melting

and his chest was so warm

He was getting more confident, each second passing by. He was getting more confident, allowing himself to stroke Hizashi’s face, allowing himself to stroke Hizashi’s hair. (More) (he wanted) (to feel more) He was getting more confident, perhaps too confident, tugging on Hizashi’s shirt, ostensibly, sliding his hand under, swiftly, to touch, just to touch (To feel) (Just) (To feel) Though Hizashi startled, broke the kiss and let escape a little mewl.

Too soon, perhaps

(You’re too eager) (again)

Too soon, perhaps. And he opened his mouth to apologize.

“Shouta” Hizashi chuckled, rubbed his nose “Your hands” sorry about my hands “They’re fucking cold.”

Wait (He blinked) Is it why you startled? Is it why you stopped? (Once) (Twice) Because my hands are cold? Because it surprised you? (Thrice) Is it why you yelped? Is it why you screamed?

Can I

put my hands on you again?

“Then” he smirked, once more, tugged on Hizashi’s shirt, once more “Help me keep them warm, would you?”

Tell me

you want me

Tell me

you love me

Like I

want you

Like I

love you

Hizashi

Hizashi

Hizashi

“Alright, alright” how he would cherish it, the smile on Hizashi’s lips, when he put Aizawa’s hand back on his waist “Can I” how he would cherish it “Touch you too?” the blush on Hizashi’s cheeks “Or are some parts, you know, off limits?”

His breasts

His breasts were a big no

His breasts

He could barely endure the sight of his own breasts

His breasts

His stupid atrocious ugly breasts

His breasts

More like an unerasable proof he wasn’t born the right way

His breasts

His fucking breasts

“My chest” he confessed, looking away (you hate your eyes) (and I hate my chest) “My chest is” horrible, repulsive “I don’t feel comfortable with it.”

If only he could erase it, the way he could erase quirks. His life would be easier, so much easier.

“Sure” at least Hizashi’s smile grew wider (and he was) (quite a sight to behold) (when he was smiling) “If I overstep a boundary” at least Hizashi was being silly and annoying, booping his nose for instance (great) (you’re back to being yourself) (I like that) (a lot better) “Tell me, okay~?”

He nodded, he simply nodded. He nodded, and they kissed again, with more confidence, with a lot more confidence this second time. They kissed again, and their hands were less hesitating, wandering further away. He wondered if he could, he wondered if he should, Hizashi’s skin was warm, so warm under the palms of his hands, his waist, his hips, his back, he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to stop. He wondered if he could, he wondered if he should, though not too much, no, not too much, the voice in his head was silent, the echoes were silent, as he was lying down on his bed, as Hizashi was getting on top of him, as they kissed, and kissed again, as they touched and touched again.

I love you

I love you so much

I want you

I really, really want you

Your hands, your lips

Your warmth, your body

You are

You really are

I am

I truly am

(Hizashi)

(Hizashi)

(Hizashi)

(Hizashi)

(Hizashi)

I’m so

in love with you

“Ayumi?” shit “Ayumi, can you- oh sorry” shit, shit, shit (why now?) (why now, mom?) “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

It was too late. They moved away from one another, but it was too late (His mother opened the door to his room) (His mother saw) (She might have closed it right away) (But she saw) They sat on the bed, tugged on their clothes, arranged their hair, but it was too late (They were kissing) (They were touching) (and his mother saw)

He wanted to die

He wanted to hide somewhere, and die

“Ayumi” and to say (Ayumi) he had to hear this name (Ayumi) this name he hated so much (Ayumi) on top of this embarrassment (Ayumi) “Yamada’s parents called” of course they called, it was late “They were worried, he wasn’t answering his phone” well, he was a little too busy for that “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

You should have knocked. I should have locked the door. I should have thought this was neither the best place nor the best moment. 

He wanted to die

He wanted to hide somewhere, and die

“My bad, my bad” Hizashi grinned, grabbed his glasses “I knew I couldn’t stay long” rubbed his head as he got up, as if he wasn’t embarrassed “I’ll call you” blinking at him, pointing finger guns at him, as if he wasn’t embarrassed “Alright~?”

Don’t go. Please, don’t go.

(It feels better)

(with you here)

(I feel better)

(with you here)

(I feel like)

(myself)

He wanted to die

He wanted to hide somewhere, and die

“Sure” he waved a hand, a nonchalant hand, averting his eyes, he couldn’t glance at Hizashi, right now, he couldn’t risk to meet his mother’s eyes, right now “Later.”

Because he knew what was coming next. His mother saw. His mother might have not meant to. But his mother saw.

“A-” not the name, not now “Kitten” his mother saw “We have to talk about this” and he couldn’t escape it “Not today, of course, but-”

“We can talk about it now” he couldn’t escape it, after all “I don’t mind.”

He knew what was coming. He knew what to expect. When she took his hand, and he was forced to meet with her insisting gaze, at least for a few seconds. She didn’t mean wrong. She was only concerned. It was also part of her role, as a mother. To warn him, about the risks that came with being sexually active. To warn him, about the diseases, about the risk of pregnancy. He couldn’t blame her, it was also part of her role, as his mother. To protect him.

He should be thankful

sexuality wasn’t a problem, even though he was still a minor

Yet all he could hear

was the name he hated so much

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

(Ayumi)

He should be thankful

his parents would never judge him, for whoever he might love

Yet all he could hear

was a gender that wasn’t his

(Girl)

(She)

(Her)

He should be thankful

a lot of teenagers weren’t as lucky

Yet all he could hear

were words that were making his skin crawl

(Pregnancy)

(Gynecologist)

(Contraceptive)

He didn’t want to tackle the possibility. Not today, not ever. Not when all they could see was a girl, not when all he was to their eyes was a girl. He was aware of the risks, he wasn’t dumb, he knew how he felt didn’t erase the laws of biology (He wished, though) (He wished) (It would have made his life easier) (a lot easier) (if he could simply turn into a man) He was aware of the risks, it would be a lie to say he wasn’t thinking about it, sometimes, at night, when Hizashi was all that was on his mind, and he wondered if they would, one day, and he hoped they could, one day, it would be nice, if Hizashi was his first, he felt safe enough, for Hizashi to be his first, anyway, this wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, not when his mother was still using the wrong name, not when his mother was still using the wrong pronouns.

(This isn’t sustainable)

(I have to tell you)

(This isn’t sustainable)

(I can’t hide anymore)

(But I can’t) (talk)

(I can’t) (talk)

Why couldn’t he speak, when it mattered? Why did he have to go mute, and lay on everyone his tired black eyes no one seemed to be able to read? Why could he never speak, when it mattered? Why were the words always stuck in his throat?

Mom

Mom, I’m so sorry

I’m not ignoring you

I swear, I’m not

I appreciate your concern

I appreciate your absence of judgment

But the thinking

The thinking is shutting down

You worry about your little girl

But I never was your little girl

“Good moooooorniiiiing, Shoooooutaaaa!” don’t be so loud in the morning, you moron (I barely slept) (because of all this) “Why so doom and gloom on such a beautiful day?”

Should I tell you, as well? (You’re my boyfriend) (aren’t you?) Should I tell you, or should I wait? (I mean) (We kissed) (We touched) (But I never told you) (how much I love you) Another thing I’m unable to speak about, or so it seemed.

(You’re happy)

(because we kissed) (because we touched)

(You’re happy)

(I should be happy too)

(My concerns)

(will only bring black clouds)

(You’re happy)

(smiling like I’ve never seen you smile)

(You’re happy)

(yet I need you) (I really need you)

(I can’t do it) (without you)

(I can’t come out to my parents) (without you)

“Oi, oi” Hizashi ruffled his hair, brought him closer and for a second Aizawa worried he would kiss him before the whole class (of course he didn’t) “What’s the matter?” 

(I only want)

(to protect your smile)

He remained silent. For a few days. He remained silent, trying to bring up the subject. And when he managed to, on the rooftop, his head buried against Hizashi’s chest, his face buried in Hizashi’s scent, he was rewarded with the only answer he needed to hear.

“Of course, Shouta” the only answer he needed, and fingers combing through his messy black locks “Of course, I’ll help you tell them” the only answer he needed, and Hizashi’s lips on his forehead, his temple “I’ll be there for you, I” (thank you) (for everything) “Yeah.”

Say it

Say it, Aizawa Shouta

You kissed

You went on a date

Since the first day

he accepted you for who you were

You have nothing to fear

Nothing

(I love you)

(Yamada Hizashi)

Not today, apparently. Not ever, or so it seemed. He wasn’t a man of many words, to begin with, he had never been. Only a miracle could change that fact.

“Thank you” he mumbled, wrapped his arms tighter around Hizashi’s waist (I love you) (I love you so much) “Hizashi.”

(Going mute)

(Words stuck inside my throat)

(Words can’t describe)

(How much I love you)

(One day)

(One day, I swear)

“Sure, sure” Hizashi rubbed his head some more, and for some reason, he almost felt like purring a little “Tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll make myself available.”

(I’m grateful for you)

(I’m so grateful for you)

(Your smile)

(What I would do) (to protect this smile)

Except this smile’s days were numbered

He simply wasn’t aware yet

It took him a few days more. To make his mind. It took him a few days more, to be honest, it could have taken a lot more, if his mother didn’t mention his relationship with Hizashi, and everything it implied, once again. It took him a few days more, though he couldn’t back down now.

He had invited Hizashi to his home

and, obviously, his parents agreed

He was planning to come out during lunch

while everyone was at the table

Even though his mother cooked his favorite dish

it was quite hard to swallow

Thankfully Hizashi was good at social interactions

Thankfully Hizashi could handle conversation for the both of them

Lunch went on

until it was time for dessert

He couldn’t back down

He couldn’t back down now

He chose his day, he chose his moment

He had to come out

“Mom, dad” he tensed, as his hands curled on his thighs “I have something” he had to come out “To tell you.”

He had to come out. He had to come out now. He had no other choice. He asked Hizashi to come. He asked Hizashi to help. He asked Hizashi.

“What is it, kitten?”

He had to come out. He had to come out now. (It was hard) (so very hard) (to talk) He had to come out. He couldn’t keep hiding, it was too painful. It was too painful and kept his parents away from him. (Hard) (too hard) (and he bit on his lower lip) He had to come out. His identity shouldn’t be a secret, not to his close ones. (Hard) (too hard) (and it was hard to think) (and it was hard to breathe)

At least

Hizashi’s hand taking his own

slowly, tenderly

his thumb rubbing against the palm of his hand

At least

Hizashi’s hand holding his own

made the pain on his chest fade away

made the words leave his lips more easily

I’m sorry, mom

I’m sorry, dad

“I am” he closed his eyes, he couldn’t look at them, not now, it was too hard “I am transgender” and he felt like crying, like crying so hard, at least Hizashi held his hand tighter, at least Hizashi never let go, at least Hizashi, Hizashi (no matter what happens) (I will have you) (I will always have you) “I’m not a girl, I’m a boy” he couldn’t talk for years, and now he couldn’t stop (stop me) (Hizashi) “I use male pronouns, and the name Shouta.”

He couldn’t breathe. It hurt, and he couldn’t breathe.

“Kitten” I’m sorry, mom “We were wondering when you would tell us” I’m so sorry “We already know.”

What?

Chapter Text

The spell had been broken. Or so he thought. Or so it seemed (He was wrong) (He was so wrong) (But it was too soon) (way too soon to tell) The spell had been broken. The years where he was alone, with no one to talk to, with no friend, were behind him. Not only was he granted a friend, but this friend became his boyfriend. Not only was their relationship going well, but Shouta’s parents had accepted his transidentity, showing some support when he seemed to need it. The spell had been broken. Or so he thought. Or so it seemed.

And he was happy

And he hadn’t been so happy

He was young, back then

He was naive, back then

Sixteen

Clumsy, and shy

He thought what he had, he would never lose

He thought this happiness would last forever

He was wrong

He was so wrong

But he was sixteen

He couldn’t have predicted

The spell had been broken. Or so he thought. Or so it seemed. He was no longer alone, he had Shouta and, math excluded, he was scoring good grades. His hero training was going well, his studies were going well, his relationship with Shouta was going well. He was promised to a great future. He was promised to a great, brilliant future as a hero, for sure, as a radio host, perhaps, as a DJ, maybe, he still held this dream, this silly dream, somewhere in his head, never to give up on music.

He was happy

He hadn’t been so happy

He was young, back then

He was naive, back then

Sixteen

Clumsy, and shy

He didn’t think he couldn’t get

any happier

He didn’t think this virtuous circle

would be broken

But he was sixteen

He couldn’t have predicted

The spell had been broken. His first year as a UA student had been the happiest year in his life. And he intended his second year to be just the same, better even, why not, he was young, he had all the time in the world, he could hope, he could dream. He intended his second year to be just the same, better even, after all, who could have predicted, who could have thought it would end in tears, it would end in a tragedy, who could have predicted, when it all started so well?

(Once upon a time)

(there was a boy)

“Shirakumo” he thought he was lucky to have been granted a friend, he thought he had been lucky said friend became his boyfriend “Shirakumo Oboro” he never thought he could make another one, not him, the weird deaf kid everyone was making fun of “And you are?”

(A tall boy)

(with tanned skin) (and shining blue hair)

“Yamada” he snapped his fingers “Yamada Hizashi” before waving his hands around Shouta, proud as he was of his boyfriend “And this is Aizawa” giving him a few playful punches, since he seemed to be in a lively mood this morning (that second energy drink) (was probably a mistake) (he would find out later) “Aizawa Shouta” he seemed to be in a lively mood, and he was aware he was speaking too loud, except everyone was used to it right now, everyone but “He looks grumpy, like he doesn’t care but, believe me, he’s the craziest man I’ve ever met.”

(A tall boy)

(with a warm smile) (and an inviting hand)

“Yamada!” the teacher called and he couldn’t repress a little yelp (it was the first day) (of the year) (and he was already being reprimanded) “Bothering Aizawa already, are you?”

Except Shouta liked being bothered. Alright, fair, Shouta didn’t like being bothered. He simply happened not to mind it, not so much, when it involved Yamada.

“Buuuuut” he whined, loudly, palms towards the sky “I haven’t seen my dear friend in days, sir, I’ve to greet him properly.”

This year was special. Not only because it was their second year of high school, not only because it was their second year at UA, meaning they would get their provisional license, meaning they would start their internship. This year was special. Not only because they would take a step further, on their path to become heroes. This year was special. Because Shouta had decided to fill the form, the form he required to be called by his chosen gender and name.

It hadn’t been an easy decision

And he had stalled a lot

His pronouns, his birth name were uncomfortable

Uncomfortable but familiar, and Shouta hated changes

It hadn’t been an easy decision

They talked it over, together, with his parents as well

None of their classmates knew, and it would be awkward

None of their classmates knew, and he would have to explain himself

It hadn’t been an easy decision

Yet he made it, all the same

And now Yamada had called Aizawa a he, and now Yamada had called Aizawa a man (He asked beforehand) (if he could) (if he should) (He had always been careful) (how to refer to Shouta publicly) And the classroom filled with uneasy whispers.

“It’s neither the place nor the time for this” but he got up late, too late and he barely had time to greet his beloved this morning (he hated his tendency) (to run late) (he would make it up to him) (on the rooftop later) “Unless you want to start the year with detention?”

Their homeroom teacher was no joke, and he had the feeling he would get a lot more detention than he did last year (He would) (except he wouldn’t be the only one) (Oboro would share every hour with him) (and Shouta, even, some) 

“Wouldn’t be so bad” Shouta mumbled, smirked at him (oh you and your sarcasm) (just you wait) “If it could shut you up for a moment.”

“No” he shook his head, dropped in his seat “Thank you.”

School was never easy. Too many rules and he couldn’t keep his mind focused, too many rules and he couldn’t keep his body in check. 

Rocking back and forth in his chair

Juggling with his pens, whistling

(Startling when he heard the teacher)

(call Shouta’s name)

(Shouta’s name)

(Shouta’s full name)

And the uneasy whispers

filled the classroom once more

(Was it)

(a good decision?)

(Was it)

(the right decision?)

They were happy

They were so very happy

Except they were used to it. The rumors, the whispers. Except they were used to it. Being the weird kids in the class, being the odd ones nobody wanted to be friends with. Except they were used to it. More rumors, more whispers wouldn’t change anything. Because they were happy, together. Because they were so very happy, together. Because their happiness was meant to last. He was sure of it.

Oh sweet

sweet arrogant fool

“Shirakumo Oboro?”

“Here, here!” the tall boy with the wavy blue hair raised his hand in a shout “Don’t tell me you didn’t see me? I’m unforgettable.”

At least he wouldn’t be the only loud one in the class, not this year. At least they wouldn’t be the only odd ones in the class, not this year.

And his eyes sparkled

as he saw another prospect for a friend

“Shirakumo” the teacher sighed, rubbed the back of his neck “You’re repeating your second year, isn’t that enough?” wait, really? “Or should I also threaten you with detention as well?”

He should have known. He should have known, because he was familiar with the pattern. The goofiness, the act of covering every insecurity with a joke, with a silly attitude. He should have known, because he was just the same, because he was acting just the same. He should have known there was a reason why Shirakumo Oboro only joined their class during the second year, he should have known there was a reason why the teacher didn’t take the time to introduce him, as he would have with any transferred student. 

(A tall boy)

(that was just like him)

(He was already granted)

(Aizawa Shouta)

(Could he granted)

(Shirakumo Oboro) (as well?)

(Could he be) (that lucky?)

(Could he be) (that happy?)

Sweet

Sweet arrogant fool

“Shirakumo” but he was young, back then “Do you happen to have your lunch with you, by chance?” sixteen, clumsy, and shy “With Shouta, we always eat on the rooftop” and he pretended not to feel the angry glare his boyfriend gave him, as he gave up their secret location “It’s quieter, and he likes it quiet.”

But he was young, back then. And, when you’re sixteen, you don’t expect life to end up in tragedy. And, when you’re sixteen, you don’t expect friendship, you don’t expect love to end up in tears. And, when you’re sixteen, you don’t expect death, not even when you choose a hero career, no, those were blessed times, those were quiet times, no villains roaming in the streets, at least not big ones, at least not that could threaten a life, not even one of a hero, especially not one of a hero, or so they thought, or so they had been told (A lie) (It all had been) (A lie) You don’t expect death. At least, not before many, many years. 

Except they did have many

many years

Except Oboro

didn’t

They simply just

weren’t aware of it yet

“Sadly, I haven’t” Shirakumo scratched the back of his head, another smile (he knew those smiles) (he was smiling just the same) (bright) (too bright) (not to be hated) on his lips “Thanks for the offer… Yamada, was it?”

He knew. He knew, because he was familiar with the pattern. He could recognize a boy, a kid, a child who had it rough. He knew. He knew, because he was just the same.

What happened

to you?

He would later understand he wasn’t asking the right question. Soon, what happened in the past wouldn’t matter. Soon, what happened before they met wouldn’t matter. Soon, all what was bound to happen in the future would matter. Soon, all what was bound to happen, after they met, would matter.

What (will) happen ed

to you?

“Yes” but he played along, he played along because he didn’t know Shirakumo Oboro, not yet “Yamada, Yamada Hizashi” but he played along, he played along because he wanted to make a friend, another one “You can call me Hizashi ~⭐︎.”

Could have I stopped

what will happen to you?

“You can come with us” Shouta rolled his eyes, dragging his feet (he might pretend like he didn’t care) (but Yamada knew) (if Shouta made the offer) (then he might have felt it too) “We probably have too much food, anyway” Shirakumo Oboro was special, just like Shouta had been special, on the first year, to Yamada “Our parents tend to be too generous” Shirakumo Oboro was special, just like Hizashi had been special, on the first year, to Aizawa “We can share.”

Could I have

changed the future?

Could we have

changed the future?

If we had known

If we had acknowledged

The forthcoming signs. The many forthcoming signs we all refused to see.

“Really?” and that second smile was spontaneous, and that second smile was true (as someone who was faking his own smiles) (often) (too often) (he could tell) “You’re really nice, guys.”

They became friends. It was as simple as that. They became friends. Three odd kids who had it rough, they were bound to understand each other, they were bound to sympathize. They became friends. It was as simple as that. They became friends. And, before they could realize, before he could realize, it felt as if they had never been only two, as if they had always been three, as if Oboro was part and parcel of their daily life, always. And, before they could realize, before he could realize, he was feeling the same pleasant, sweet, familiar warmth fill his chest. The same pleasant, sweet, familiar warmth he was feeling when he was holding Shouta’s hand, or seeing Shouta’s smile.

It wasn’t the two of them

Not anymore

It was the three of them

All the time, always

Whether it was the training exercises

or the assignments they had to do

Whether it was having lunch on the rooftop

or pulling pranks on their fellow comrades, their teachers sometimes

It wasn’t the two of them

Not anymore

It was the three of them

All the time, always

They were even granted

their own nickname

(3-baka)

If only they could have known. If only they could have seen. The many forthcoming signs. The many forthcoming signs they were all refusing to see.

“Good morning class” the teacher greeted “Today’s activity would be somewhat special” and Yamada tensed, somehow expecting another surprise test (please don’t let it be another surprise test) (he hadn’t studied) (spending the evening with Shouta, and all) or something as unpleasant as a surprise test “You get to work on your hero name.”

Luckily

it wasn’t

“Hell yeaaaaaah” luckily for him, not for the students who had to endure his loud shout so early in the morning “Hero names, I’ve the perfect id-”

Uh. His voice. If he weren’t so used to it, he would wonder what happened to his voice. Shouta. Shouta happened. Shouta was erasing his quirk, Shouta was erasing his voice. Because he was getting too excited. And, when he was getting too excited, he was also getting too loud. So loud he could make the furniture tremble, and the window threaten to break.

(He would)

(make the furniture tremble)

(He would)

(make the windows break)

(Sometimes on purpose)

(chasing villains)

(Sometimes not)

(as emotions would overwhelm him)

(This first one)

(he could have control over)

(The second)

(not so much)

(Luckily) (losing control)

(didn’t occur) (too often)

But when it happened, oh when it happened

I wish I could have stopped

the clicking cogs of fate

But I was young, back then

But I was naive, back then

Sixteen

Clumsy, and shy

“Yamada” the teacher sighed, obviously annoyed at his very predictable response “I already told you a thousand times not to yell so loud, being in UA doesn’t allow you to use your quirk as you see fit” he wasn’t using as he was seeing fit, it was only in his personality to shout when he was happy (he was) (born deaf) (after all) “And, Aizawa” his boyfriend might have blinked, as soon as the teacher called his name, for Yamada was feeling the characteristic tingling of his quirk in his throat, once again “As much as I appreciate the silence, this goes also for you.”

I wish

I wish

“Whatever” Shouta mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I wish I could

turn back time

I wish I could

do it all over again

To hear you laugh

To see you smile

“Alright, everyone” the teacher clapped their hands “Use the cardboard before you to write your name, then share it with the class” perfect, it would be his moment to shine, it would be Oboro’s moment to shine (as for Shouta) (well) (it would be great if Shouta had at least one idea for a name) “We’ll discuss if it’s sustainable, as a hero name, don’t forget” (he shouldn’t be too bad with it) (he did come up with his own name) (after all) “A hero name is also a brand, you have to keep that in mind, when you choose to label yourself.”

A name, a brand, a label. Good for him, he already had the perfect idea. Good for him, he already had thought about it, long before he entered UA, long before he was admitted in the hero course. Good for him, he already thought it over, as he was holding his music blog online, sharing music recommendations and critics over the new tracks that were being lately released. Good for him, he had already started to advertise himself, when he came up with his webradio, launching his future hero name alongside his broadcast.

Present Mic

The Voice Hero

Whereas Shouta, well, Shouta wasn’t good when it came to selling himself. As a matter of fact, he was the complete opposite of good. As a matter of fact, he was pretty bad, undermining himself, his capacity, showing an obvious lack of confidence that would probably make anyone see him as untrustworthy, which wouldn’t be true, Shouta was trustworthy, Shouta was one of of the most trustworthy persons he knew. Whereas Shouta, well, Shouta was holding his pen, his hand frozen mid-air, his brows frowned, at a loss. At an obvious loss.

(You picked a name)

(for yourself)

(Can’t you just pick another one)

(for your hero self?)

(Or is it)

(too much an effort to make?)

“What is it?” he purred, looking at his boyfriend, grinning “Running out of ideas, Shouta?”

(You picked a name)

(for yourself)

(And quite a beautiful name)

(No less)

(Aizawa)

(Shouta)

(Can’t you)

(just pick another one?)

(Another one)

(that sounds just as nice?)

And Oboro scribbling frenetically on his board, just by his side, wasn’t probably helping. And everyone whispering, sharing, commenting on their ideas wasn’t probably helping.

“Yes” he glanced at Yamada, his face as unreadable as always “I don’t care about the fame, the publicity, the rankings or the cameras” and yet you chose the hero path, you’re a strange one, my dear “I’ll just go for any alias the teacher agrees with.”

(You)

(who knows the importance of a name)

(You don’t care)

(about this one)

(Quite a strange one)

(indeed)

“Boriiiiing” Oboro said, scribbling some more “When you’ll hear my hero name, you’ll be so jealous you’re gonna change your mind.”

I wish

I wish

“Your quirk is erasure, you use your eyes” Yamada brought the tip of his index fingers together “You’ll be- Eraserhead!”

I wish I could

turn back time

I wish I could

do it all over again

“Alright.”

To hear you laugh

To see you smile

Chapter Text

He had never liked school, not so much. Too many people, too much noise, it made his head hurt. He had never liked school, and first days even less. To the many people, to the loud noise added the amount of new information he had to process, of course, it wasn’t making his head hurt any less, on the contrary. (If only he could) (erase them all) (their voices) (whispering, always whispering) (their eyes) (darting, still darting at him)

He blinked

stared at his feet

Some things

just happen not to change

Walk fast

Walk fast

He had never liked school, and UA was not different (Despite) (his friend) (his boyfriend) (Despite) (Yamada Hizashi) He had never liked first days, and his first day of his second year in the hero course was not different. First of all, because he was still struggling to find his way to the classroom, since it wasn’t the same as last year, of course it wasn’t, he was one year older now, they were all one year older now, and the building was still as ridiculously designed as it first was, really that H-shape, the worst idea ever imagined, students were bound to get lost in there, he was bound to get lost in there. Second, because everyone was loud, everyone was so loud. Excited, for most, alright, he got that, he was excited too, excited for the new year to come and all the perspectives it offered, excited to see Hizashi, nervous as well, it was still a tuning point in his life, especially with the internships, especially since he would, likely, get his provisional license, though it wasn’t showing on his face (none of his emotions) (ever was) though he wasn’t yelling it out for everyone else to hear (when he was getting too loud) (it was rarely good news) though he wasn’t making weird gestures with his arms, or else (he was usually) (quiet) (some would say too quiet) (his parents, for instance)

He blinked

stared at his desk

Some things

just happen not to change

Don’t look at them

Don’t look at them

If only he could erase them (the people) (their eyes) If only he could erase them all (staring staring staring) If only he could erase it (the noise) (the loud noise) If only he could erase it all (it hurt it hurt it hurt it-)

He blinked

unzipped his bag open

Some things

just happen not to change

He couldn’t put his hands on his ears

not in public

(He still) (wanted to)

It wasn’t allowed, it was weird

He knew as much

He pulled out his notebook, pulled out his pencil case

aligned them on his desk, one by one

He couldn’t take the risk of making eyecontact

not with anyone, not on the first day

(He was still) (overwhelmed) 

He wouldn’t, socialize, make friends

He had none, besides Hizashi

At least, this time, he wasn’t wearing the skirt

the ridiculously short skirt

At least, this time, he didn’t hate the uniform

At least, this time, he didn’t feel weird, exposed

It had changed, he had changed

This year, he had filled the form

It hadn’t been an easy decision, not in the slightest. A lot to weigh in the balance. Was it worth throwing himself right into the sea of the unknown (how would) (his teachers react) (how would) (his classmates react) (he didn’t know) (and couldn’t predict) just to get rid of a discomfort he had somehow become familiar with? It hadn’t been an easy decision, not in the slightest. A lot to weigh in the balance, and he was grateful his parents accepted him for who he was easily, all so easily, so easily it was absurd, so easily he even wondered what took him so long. A lot to weigh in the balance, and he was grateful Hizashi was there, he was grateful Hizashi was always there when he needed him, to give him the advice he so desperately required. A lot to weigh in the balance, and yet nothing changed, at least not as much as he first thought it would.

He blinked

glanced around

His classmates were the same

The groups of friends from last year remained the same

Some things

just happen not to change

Was he relieved?

Was he disappointed?

He couldn’t really tell

His emotions, also, remained the same

A complete

mystery

He thought, if only he could dress the way he wanted to dress, it would be so much easier (It wasn’t) (easier) He thought, if only he could wear anything else, anything else than these ridiculously short skirts, it would be so much easier (It wasn’t) (any easier) He thought, if only he could have some courage, tell his parents, fill the form, change his name, change his gender identity, it would be so much easier (It wasn’t) (easier) (not in the slightest)

He was still

the strange one

He was still

the weird one

Some things

just happen not to change

He was still

wearing the same expressionless face

He was still

talking with the same high-pitched voice

Some things

just happen not to change

His parents were still

using the wrong name, the wrong gender, sometimes

His teachers, his classmates

would as well

Pathetic

Pathetic

Pathetic

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go home where he couldn’t be seen, he wanted to go home where he couldn’t be perceived. He wanted to go home, where it was safe and quiet. He wanted to go home, and snuggle in Hizashi’s arms, in Hizashi’s warmth. He wanted to go home, and kiss Hizashi’s lips, Hizashi’s mouth. He wanted to go home, and wander his hands on the body of the man he loved (He didn’t belong here) (in a classroom) (He never had)

(He didn’t want to be a hero)

(for the social aspect)

(He didn’t want to be a hero)

(for the fame, or cameras)

(He just wanted to help people)

(He expected nothing else in return)

(He didn’t care)

(about the recognition)

(He didn’t care)

(about the rankings)

(He only wanted them) (to feel safe)

(because he never really) (felt safe)

He wasn’t feeling safe, right now. The people, the noise, the fact they would all realize the girl they had known last year was in fact a boy with a completely different name. None of the parameters was set to make him feel safe. None. Except the prospect of snuggling in Hizashi’s arms, when they would go on the rooftop, at lunchtime.

Some things

just happen not to change

And it was just fine

that they happened not to

Hizashi

Hizashi

Hizashi

He thought it would remain the same. Him, Hizashi and their studies in UA’s hero course. He thought it would remain the same. The two of them, against the rest of the world. He thought it would remain the same. Only that he’d wear a different name, only that he’d go by a different gender. 

He was wrong

about everything

“Shirakumo” he was wrong, and realized it almost immediately “Shirakumo Oboro” as he laid his eyes on a student he didn’t know, on a student he hadn’t met before (a tall boy) (with tanned skin) (and wavy blue hair) (like a cloud) “And you are?”

He was wrong, and realized it almost immediately. The tall boy (new boy?) (new student?) Who are you? (He was positive) (he hadn’t seen him around) Who are you? (amongst the first years) Who are (not in the corridors) you? (not at the sports festival) was similar to Hizashi. Whether it was his overall attitude, his carelessness, his loud voice or his goofy smile, he couldn’t tell yet. Though he could recognize, with one sole glance, within a glimpse.

Another

strange one

Another

weird one

Another

odd one

He was wrong. It wouldn’t remain the same. It wouldn’t be the two of them, against the rest of the world. He was wrong. It would change. For better, at first. Then for worse. Then for worse, for years.

“Yamada” Hizashi snapped his fingers, took one of his infamous dramatic poses (don’t yell) (it’s too early in the morning) “Yamada Hizashi” he didn’t, yell, only waved his hands around Aizawa, which was just as annoying, if not even more, to be honest “And this is Aizawa” alright, take it back, it was more annoying (don’t punch me) (idiot) “Aizawa Shouta” and he couldn’t help tensing, as Hizashi voiced his name, his chosen name, the name now written on his every legal document, on his every item (he allowed him to) (Hizashi asked) (and he allowed it) (though) (still) “He looks grumpy, like he doesn’t care” but he was grumpy, and didn’t care about most things “But, believe me, he’s the craziest man I’ve ever met.”

He would argue he looked pale, in comparison to Yamada Hizashi himself. He would argue he looked pale, in comparison to the bright sun his boyfriend was. He would argue he looked pale, he had this tendency to undermine himself, he always had, it came with the never-ending sensation of being too odd, too different, never quite fitting in, no matter the efforts. He would argue he looked pale, and his quirk didn’t help on the matter, a quirk that wasn’t distinguishable, in any kind, a quirk that wasn’t blazing, a quirk that wasn’t even handy to use. He would argue he looked pale, in comparison to everyone.

He blinked

and silenced every thought

He blinked

and managed a little smile

Some things

just happen not to change

“Yamada!” the teacher stepped in, called and Hizashi yelped (cute) (very cute) “Bothering Aizawa already, are you?”

To be fair, he was used to it. To be fair, he didn’t mind, not anymore. To be fair, it was mild, concerning the crazy stuff Hizashi could pull when he decided to get serious.

He had been through

the endless snuggles, and handholding

He had been through

every cheesy text, every sappy love song

He had been through

all the concerts, all the radio shows

He had been through

all the shopping sessions, all the coffee dates

To be fair, he was used to it. To be fair, he didn’t mind, not anymore. To be fair, he wouldn’t mind if this, whatever this was, exactly, whatever this could be called, precisely, added to the list of all that happen not to change.

(Sweet sweet)

(innocent fool)

(Life isn’t kind)

(that way)

“Buuuuut” Hizashi whined, his palms towards the sky, not sure he would subjugate the teacher that way “I haven’t seen my dear friend in days, sir, I’ve to greet him properly.”

Which was a lie, since they went on a date, a couple of days ago. Which was a lie, since they were a couple (even if) (none of them) (actually said the words) I love you (they were both) (too scared to utter) and everyone was aware they were a couple, they weren’t exactly discreet, alright, he was discreet, silent and secretive about his personal life, Hizashi, on the contrary, Hizashi couldn’t help bragging.

Though he still hadn’t bragged

to the stranger

Though he still hadn’t bragged

to Shirakumo Oboro

Why

could that be?

Which was a lie, though he wouldn’t have the luxury to be worried about the lie. He might be used to being called Shouta, especially by Hizashi, who had always called him Shouta. He might be used to being called a man, especially by Hizashi, who had always called him a man. He might be used to being referred to by male pronouns, especially by Hizashi, who had always used male pronouns to refer to him. He might be used to it all. Though his teacher wasn’t. Though his classmates weren’t. And the room started to fill with uneasy whispers.

Him?

Did he just say him?

Do you think he means Aizawa?

But Aizawa is a girl

(I am) (not)

(I have) (never been)

Him?

Did he just say him?

Do you think he means the other kid?

Do they know each other?

(No) (we don’t)

(But soon) (we will)

“It’s neither the place nor the time for this” good luck making Hizashi understand that, he tried all the previous year, and failed “Unless you want to start the year with detention?”

He chuckled, oblivious to the many hours they were about to get in the months to follow, how could he imagine he would ever get detention, he was a good student, he was a serious student, some would argue too serious.

Though Hizashi

was pure dynamite ready to be lit

Though Oboro

was pure chaos waiting to be unleashed

Combine them both

and you get

“Wouldn’t be so bad” he smirked, folding a hand under his chin “If it could shut you up for a moment.”

Combine them both

and you get

An unstoppable

trio

Love

and friendship

Memories too precious to be forgotten and yet so painful he’d rather forget them.

“No” Hizashi shook his head, finally dropped in his seat “Thank you.”

A few greetings, to welcome the class. A few jokes, to lighten the mood. A few greetings, a few jokes. Then would come the deciding moment. The rollcall. The rollcall, during which the teacher would call his name, his full name. The rollcall, during which the class would hear his name, his full name. His other name, his former name, he was used to. As uncomfortable as it was, as painful as it was, he was used to the sound of it, he was used to the echoes, even. His own true name, well

“Aizawa” his own true name, it sounded nice on Hizashi’s lips, it sounded nice on Hizashi’s tongue (every word was) (nice) (if Hizashi was the one) (to speak it) “Shouta.”

His own true name, it might sound nice when Hizashi called it, it might sound nice when Hizashi called him. Though in a classroom full of people who only had known him as a girl, who only had referred to him as a girl, it was bound to trigger more uneasy whispers.

Aizawa?

Aizawa changed her name?

But Shouta

Shouta is a boy’s name, right?

Does it mean

she is

She has always been

a little different

She has always been

a little odd

Does it mean

she is

(He blinked)

(and silenced every whisper)

Or, at least, he sat down, wishing it could be that easy. Or, at least, he sat down, wishing he was deaf to the world around him.

(Shit) (Not deaf)

(Hizashi)

(Sorry) (I didn’t mean it)

(Not like that)

“Shirakumo” Shirakumo, that was “Oboro?”

The tall boy’s name.

“Here, here!” the tall boy, who raised his hand in a shout “Don’t tell me you didn’t see me? I’m unforgettable.”

The tall boy who was very much similar to Hizashi, on many aspects.

“Shirakumo” the teacher sighed, rubbed the back of his neck “You're repeating your second year, isn't that enough?” oh, it explained a lot actually (why he was taller) (why he was at ease with the teacher) (for instance) “Or should I also threaten you with detention as well?” 

It wouldn’t remain the same. It couldn’t remain the same. There was something. Something in Oboro’s eyes, something in Oboro’s smile. Something he couldn’t name, not yet, not quite. Something he couldn’t quite identify. Something he would only be able to label and cherish once it was too late.

Love

and friendship

“Shirakumo” at least he was grateful for Hizashi, at least he would always be grateful for Hizashi “Do you happen to have your lunch with you, by chance?” Hizashi, who was at ease with every social situation (whereas) (he wasn’t) (whereas) (he would never learn) “With Shouta, we always eat on the rooftop” even if, on that morning, on that first day, all he could feel was annoyance (or at least what he thought) (was annoyance) “It’s quieter, and he liked it quiet.”

(Don’t give up)

(our secret place)

(The morning had been long)

(and I want to hug you)

(Don’t give up)

(our secret place)

(The morning had been long)

(and I want to kiss you)

(Don’t give up)

(our secret place)

(The morning had been long)

(and I want to be with you)

(You)

(Only you)

His feelings wouldn’t add to all that happen not to change. He simply wasn’t aware of it yet.

“Sadly, I haven’t” Shirakumo scratched the back of his head, smiled (Hizashi’s smile) (also was the same) “Thanks for the offer… Yamada, was it?”

A smile that never failed to make his heart skip a beat.

“Yes” and all it took was another look at them “Yamada, Yamada Hizashi” another look at Hizashi, dramatically putting a hand on his chest “You can call me Hizashi ~⭐︎.”

Another look at Oboro, grinning. All it took was another look.

There was something

different about Shirakumo Oboro

Just like there was something

different about Yamada Hizashi

He looked and looked

yet he couldn’t tell what

He looked and looked

yet he couldn’t tell how

He wouldn’t mind

it happened with Hizashi, before

He didn’t mind

if it happened with Oboro, now

He wouldn’t say no

to another friend

It would feel less lonely, to add another strange one, another weird one, another odd one to their awkward duo (couple?)

“You can come with us” Shouta rolled his eyes, dragging his feet (he should do something) (about his attitude) (about his expressionless face) (about his expressionless voice) “We probably have too much food, anyway” he should do something, to show the others he cared, and how much “Our parents tend to be too generous” he should do something, to convey his feelings in a more common fashion “We can share.”

I want to be your friend

Shirakumo Oboro

“Really?” that second smile was brighter, a lot brighter “You’re really nice, guys.”

His feelings wouldn’t add to all that happen not to change. He simply wasn’t aware of it yet

Chapter Text

Shouta had always been silent, it was nothing new. Shouta had always been silent, never sharing much about his personal life, never sharing much about what was on his mind, in his heart. Shouta had always been silent, listening to him ramble, listening to his jokes, listening to the sappy love songs he composed in his honor, protesting sometimes, indulging him still. Shouta had always been silent. Silent when they held hands, silent when they hugged, silent when they kissed. Shouta had always been silent, it was nothing new.

Except, this time, it was

different

He didn’t pay it much attention, at first. Shouta was the kind to worry too much about his grades, about his performance (whereas he wasn’t) (whereas Oboro wasn’t either) (so he was feeling less alone now) (on the matter) it wouldn’t change over the year, obviously not, obviously not when more and more was expected of them (He could manage) (He was polyvalent that way) (his quirk was useful) (and his blazing personality helpful) He didn’t pay it much attention, at first. He only assumed Shouta needed time. Time to adjust to his name, being used by everyone in the class, being used by the teachers. Time to adjust to his gender, and the whispers filling the room as they changed for their training sessions. Time to adjust to having a new friend in their group, meaning they weren’t just the two of them as much as they used to (Yamada didn’t mind) (Shouta didn’t seem to mind either) (though they never) (really talked) But they should have But they should have (about it) Time, only time.

Except, this time, it was

different

Shouta was drenched, when he entered the class, this morning. Shouta was drenched, soaked, and it wasn’t much like him, no, Shouta was more like the type to have an umbrella ready when the sky was menacing, Yamada was usually the one constantly forgetting his stuff. Shouta was drenched, when he entered the class, this morning. Shouta was drenched, soaked and refused to get dried up, mumbled something about it matching the mood he was currently in, didn’t even pay attention to Yamada’s teasing or endless playful punches he was throwing to (tenderly) mock his usual gloomy disposition. Or what he thought was his usual gloomy disposition.

Shouta

was doubting himself

Shouta

was doubting his skills

Shouta

was doubting his abilities

Shouta

was doubting his capacities

And it was his duty, as a boyfriend,

to erase all those doubts

He knew the damages the echoes of the endless voice in your head could do. He knew the damages, he had been a victim of it. He had been a victim of it, so he wouldn’t let Shouta be a victim as well.

He would hug him more

hoping it was enough

He would kiss him more

hoping it was enough

(Whereas)

(all you have) (to do)

He would be more silly

hoping it was enough

He would have him listen to more music

hoping it was enough

(Whereas)

(all you have) (to say)

He would hold his hand

hoping it was enough

He would reassure him about the cat

hoping it was enough

(is)

(I love you)

Say it

Say it, coward

Be the one

to initiate anything, for once

(Aizawa Shouta)

(I am) (in love with you)

How could he make him feel better? How could he erase the doubts? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? He never really had a friend, to begin with, so a boyfriend, he knew even less of. He never really had a friend, to begin with, he never was good relationship material, he was odd, he was weird, he was 

(A life with someone like me)

(would be no life at all)

He was aware. He called it. He was aware. Yet he still chose to take a chance with them.

(Perhaps) (I made)

(the wrong) (choice)

“Do you want me to come over?” he asked, leaning in Shouta’s direction, grinning, as if Shouta doubting himself didn’t result in him doubting himself as well (what can) (I do?) (what can) (I say?) “After class? We can work on strategies to improve your reaction time on the field.”

(Not) (in me)

(choosing you) (but)

“What’s the point?” though Shouta mumbled, passed a lazy hand in his fluffy hair “We’ve tried it before, it didn’t change anything, I’m still not quick enough” don’t worry, love, you will get the hang of it, soon “But you can come over” at least there was still a little smile, stretching his lips, a sad little smile “If you want to.”

How could he make him feel better? How could he erase the doubts? What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? When he wasn’t feeling like himself, when his emotions were taking over, creating a turmoil in his head, a turmoil in his heart, Shouta didn’t have the words either, but Shouta always brought him a steaming cup of hot cocoa, when he wasn’t simply dragging him to his favorite places, despite how loud and crowded they could be.

(But) (in letting you)

(waste your time) (with me)

“Sure~” he purred, folded a hand under his chin “Can’t wait to have you all just for me~” and cracked another joke, another innuendo, instead of saying what was truly on his mind.

(I love)

(you)

(I love)

(you)

(I love)

(you)

(I love)

(you)

(I love)

(you)

How could he make him feel better? How could he erase his doubts? He still wondered, when they walked side by side, all the way to the metro station, as he wanted to take Shouta’s hand and didn’t dare, not in public, he was too anxious, he was too shy. He still wondered, when they reached Shouta’s house, when he greeted Shouta’s parents, apologizing for showing up without a gift, really, he should have thought better, he should have thought about bringing them something, flowers, there were flowers on the way here, he knew, for he had bought some already, but today his mind was too busy with the sight of his boyfriend completely drenched in cold rain, but today his mind was too busy with how he could clear away the dark clouds in Shouta’s mind.

If only he had

Oboro’s quirk

Instead of this loud

annoying voice

Perhaps

Then, perhaps

“Hizashi” perhaps he could erase the sadness in those eyes, perhaps he could erase the sadness in this smile “What do you like” perhaps perhaps “About me?”

Everything. I like everything. I like your hair, I like your eyes. I like your nose, I like your mouth. I like your lips, I like your voice. I like your hands, I like your warmth. Everything, I like everything. I like your calm, I like your silence (It leaves room) (for me) (as I sometimes can’t stop) (talking) I like your logic, I like your rational brain. I like your humor, I like your smirk. Everything, Shouta. I like everything about you.

(Is it)

(so hard to believe?)

“Mmm, let me think” a smile stretched his lips, as he gave Shouta’s nose a playful fickle “You’re very beautiful, for starters” everything, Shouta, and how your cheeks blush even more “And smart. And kind, you’re the kindest person I’ve ever known” you gave up your umbrella to shelter an abandoned cat from the rain, do you realize how kind you actually are? “Do you want me to go on~♡?” 

(You’re perfect)

(Aizawa Shouta)

(Everything about you)

(is)

(You’re perfect)

(Aizawa Shouta)

(Everything about you)

(will forever be)

(Because)

(I am) (in love with you)

“No, it’s fine” liar, you’re not fine (don’t tell me) (you doubt my words) (as well?) “I get it.”

You don’t get it. You don’t get how much I love you. You don’t get how much you mean to me. (How can I) (prove it) (to you?)

Say it

Say it, coward

Say those words

Say those words, and he will

I love you

Aizawa Shouta

“Liar, liar, pants on fire~🎶” he hummed, rubbing Shouta’s head tenderly “You’re still overthinking what the teacher has been telling you, aren’t you?” I know you, I know you and I know how you think (your brain) (is a wonder) (but that wonder) (comes with a heavy price) “You said you didn’t care much about the fame and cameras, didn’t you?” (the heavy price) (of never-ending thinking) “So it’s okay if it takes you a little more time than the others to come up with your special moves, as you don’t need a grand début, or anything of the sort, right?” 

You could prove him. You could prove him, by telling him you love him. You could prove him, by saying the very words you’re dying to hear yourself. You could prove him, by having a little courage. Three little words, Yamada Hizashi, three little words.

(Three)

(little words)

I love you

(How come)

(they’re so heavy)

(Three)

(little words)

I love you

(How come)

(they’re always stuck) (in my throat)

(Three)

(little words)

I love you

(How come)

(I can never talk) (when it matters)

“Don’t be all doom and gloom” you could prove him, yet you chose to remain silly, and loud “If you keep frowning this much, you’ll get wrinkles before you turn old” you could prove it, yet you chose to turn it into a joke.

What’s wrong

with you?

“You’re annoying” good, at least Shouta seemed to be going back to his usual self, calling him annoying yet resting his head on Yamada’s shoulder, yet taking Yamada’s hand in his “Hizashi.”

You could prove him. You could prove him now. There is a window. There is an opportunity. You could prove him. You could prove him now.

What’s wrong

with you?

My heart

My chest

(Speak)

(Speak) (Speak) (Speak)

What’s wrong

with you?

I’m too hot

yet shivering

(Speak)

(Speak)

(Speak)

“Ay, ay” he purred, giving the top of Shouta’s head a gentle kiss “I love you too.”

Not bad, for a coward like you.

(My heart)

(is going to stop)

(My chest)

(is going to explode)

(Please) (tell me)

(you love me) (too)

You mean everything to me, oh don’t you know?

(Pathetic)

(It’s been a year) (almost)

(Pathetic)

(To confess) (only now)

(Please) (tell me)

(you love me) (too)

Tell me I wasn’t wrong about all those dates, all those moments we shared. Tell me I wasn’t wrong about all those hugs, all those kisses. Tell me I wasn’t wrong to take a chance with us, you, the only friend I ever manage to make, at least before Oboro showed up, and, to be honest, Oboro is, Oboro, well, I-

“Hizashi” a hand, cupping his cheek “Me too” and those unreadable black eyes were staring into his once more “I love you.”

(My heart)

(My heart)

(My heart)

(My heart)

(My heart)

They kissed. Simply, naturally. They kissed, like they had never kissed before. They kissed, with such shyness, as if they had never kissed before. A soft brushing of their lips, of their mouths, against one another. A few pecks, before they dared to let it linger, before their lips parted, before tongues were involved, before their hands grabbed at one another, yearning to touch, yearning to feel. They kissed. Simply, naturally. They kissed, like they had never kissed before. They kissed, and he could tell. He wanted more, Shouta wanted more.

I want you

I want all of you

I want to hold you

I want to touch you

Is it okay?

Can I?

I love you

I love all of you

I love your body

I love your mind

Can I have you?

Will you let me?

I’ve never been loved before, not like this (I don’t know what to do) (or how to do it) I’ve never been with anyone before, not like this (I don’t know if I’ll be good) (or if you’ll like it) I’ve never been enough for anyone before, and I grew up thinking I wouldn’t be, for no one (Don’t doubt yourself) (Shouta) (Don’t doubt yourself) (because in my eyes) (you’re perfect) 

(because in my eyes)

(the one who is deeply flawed is)

me

me

me

me

me

Don’t doubt yourself. Don’t doubt yourself, because you’re perfect, even in your imperfections, even in your every flaw. Don’t doubt yourself. Don’t doubt yourself, because there is nothing you can say, and little you can do, that would change this fact. Don’t doubt yourself. Don’t doubt yourself, because you’re perfect (and I’m not) Don’t doubt yourself, otherwise the voice, the voice

He’s perfect

and you’re not

He’s perfect

and you will never be

Everything

is wrong with you

He held Shouta closer, because he simply wanted to silence the echoes, because he simply wanted to silence the voice. He held Shouta closer, deepened the kiss, even if clumsily so. He held Shouta closer, though he wasn’t daring, to do more. He held Shouta closer, and he squirmed, and he yelped, struggled not to let out a shout (his quirk) (his quirk was tingling) (at the back of his throat) struggled to keep it to a little scream, when he felt a hand, a cold hand, slip under his uniform shirt, rest on his hip. (Shouta) (Shouta, do you) (want me too?)

(My heart)

(My heart is going to stop)

(My heart)

(My heart is going to explode)

(My heart)

(My heart beats too fast)

(My heart)

(My heart is too loud)

(My heart)

(My heart aches for you)

“Sorry” Shouta broke the kiss, carefully, his unreadable black eyes still staring into Yamada’s (I wonder) (what you’re thinking) (in a moment like this) “Is it too much? Should I stop?”

No. No, far from it. No. No, I’ve wanted to touch you for a long time, for a very long time. No. No, I love your body, I love the sensation of your body close to mine. No. No, don’t stop, please, don’t stop.

(Shouta)

(do you) (want me too?)

(Shouta)

(won’t you) (regret it?)

(Shouta)

(are you) (sure?)

(Shouta)

(is it okay) (for me to be) (your first?)

Everything

is wrong with you

“No” he grinned, chuckled nervously “No, it feels good” looked away, unable to sustain the intense staring of those gorgeous black eyes (I wonder) (what you see) (when you look at me) “But your hands are fucking cold, what the hell.”

I wonder

what you think of me

I wonder

what you see in me

(Everything)

(is wrong) (with you)

I wonder

what you love in me

I wonder

what you desire in me

(I’m deaf) (loud)

(and annoying)

I’ve never been enough for anyone, and I thought I would never be, for no one. I’ve never been enough for anyone, why would I be enough for you? (I can’t even) (provide you with good advice) (for your classes) (I can’t even) (comfort you) (when you feel down)

Silence

the echoes

Silence

the voice

Only you

know how

“I know” Shouta’s face was unreadable as always, even when it was only a few inches away from his “That’s why I’m trying to warm them up.”

How come he was so good at this, Aizawa Shouta, the always silent kid bored of everyone and everything? How come he was so good at intimacy, at flirting, at making gifts, at comforting people, Aizawa Shouta, the blunt kid who was always struggling to find the right things to say? How come he was perfect, always, no matter what?

You call me the sun

But have you seen yourself?

“That’s what I am to you?” how come he was good at this, Aizawa Shouta, whereas he, Yamada Hizashi, was always so lame? “Your personal heater?”

“Heaters don’t talk.”

They kissed again. They touched again. And their hands were less shy, at least Shouta’s hands were less shy, stroking, squeezing, scratching the skin on his exposed waist, on his exposed hip (Don’t stop) (It feels good) (Don’t stop) (You feel so good) They kissed again. They touched again. And Yamada laid down on the bed, and Yamada let, gracefully, Shouta crawl on top of him.

You call me the sun

But have you seen yourself?

You call me the sun

But you’re the blazing one

You call me the sun

And yet you shine so bright

“Can I” Shouta’s fingers loosened Yamada’s tie, drop it on the floor “Look at you?”

(My heart)

(My heart is really going to)

(My face)

(My face is burning)

What do you think of me?

What do you see in me?

(My body)

(My body isn’t pretty) (you know)

(My body)

(I don’t like) (my body)

“I, ahem” he rolled his eyes, looked away “I don’t mind if it’s you, but” but I usually wear flashy clothes, so I don’t have to look underneath “I don’t like my body much.”

You’re

loud

You’re

annoying

You’ll never

be enough

You’re

weird

You’re

stupid

You’ll never

be enough

You’re

an idiot

You’re

a freak

You’ll never

be enough

How was I supposed to like myself, when I grew up hearing I wasn’t even worth it?

“Nonsense” Shouta shook his head, cutely, like a cat, almost “You look great” if I look great, then you look better “And, if you don’t like your body, well” well, I know I’m not alone (you don’t like yours) (much either) It’s worse for him, why do you complain “I’ll love it for you.”

How come you’re good at this? How come you’re so good at this?

I love you

I love you so much

“Okay” he bashed his eyelids, bit on his lower lip “Okay, you can look at me. You can touch me. All you want.”

I’m yours.

“Alright” and Shouta was careful, when he unbuttoned his shirt “If it’s weird, or else” and Shouta was slow, when he ran a careful hand on Yamada’s chest “Stop me.”

Will you be mine?

Chapter Text

He couldn’t do anything. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he tried. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything to shut off his brain, never. He couldn’t stop the thoughts, the many thoughts he had, the too many thoughts he was having, all the time, always, the many thoughts that kept him paralyzed, unable to move, unable to react, or, when he was, in fact, moving, reacting, he was always a second too late, always a second too slow. He couldn’t do anything. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he tried. He would never be able to do anything. Never. 

Perhaps he made

the wrong choice

Perhaps he was

unfit to be a hero

Erasure

what did he hope to accomplish with that?

Perhaps it wasn’t

too late to change his course

Perhaps it wasn’t

too late to change careers

There was more than he could do, probably

He was good at math, after all

Yet he was trying. Yet he kept trying. Again and again and again and again. Renouncing going out with his friends, with Hizashi, with Oboro, so he could train an extra couple of hours in UA facilities (He should stop) (He only rewarded himself with a tendinitis) (And no progress) Cutting short his dates with Hizashi so he could go home early, watch official or amateur videos of villain arrests, trying to figure out how the heroes were moving, how they were trying to make the best of their quirks. Yet he was trying. Yet he kept trying. Again and again and again and again.

Climbing the rope faster

(It wasn’t) (enough)

Throwing punches harder

(He wasn’t) (enough)

A weak hero

is a danger to those around him

Doing pushups

(It wasn’t) (enough)

Lifting weights

(He wasn’t) (enough)

If you’re too weak

someone will die

He hated to always be right, sometimes.

“Shoutaaaaa” Hizashi screamed, loud, so loud it made the windows in the gymnasium tremble “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, it’s time to go!”

Right. He hadn’t seen the time pass. Once again. He hadn’t seen the time pass and all he was rewarded with was pain in his limbs and joints (No progress) (never)

“Coming” he mumbled, picked his towel, picked his water bottle “Just let me take a quick shower and we can go.”

Pain in his shaking legs as he walked. Pain in his back as he bent over. Pain in his fingers as he grabbed the bottle. Pain, only pain (He wouldn’t mind) (the pain) (if progress was the reward)

“A shower?” Hizashi purred, leaning in his direction, not caring much if Aizawa was all sweaty “Can I join~?”

What was he supposed to answer this stupid teasing, anyway? That he was, in fact, yearning to touch Hizashi, in a more intimate way than they already were? That he was often, too often actually, thinking about Hizashi’s body, how it might look or how it might feel? That it was keeping him awake at night, that it led him to touch himself, a lot, and he was somehow self-conscious about it? That he should focus on his training, on his progress, on finding a solution and all was on his mind were dirty scenarios triggered by some stupid teasing Hizashi often liked to indulge in? What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to answer?

Math

was all he could do

The rest

oh well

For the rest

he was pretty stupid, and worthless

“You’re annoying” so he mumbled, probably blushed a little “Hizashi.”

At least he loved Hizashi. He was sure of that. At least he loved Hizashi and his presence never failed to comfort him. Even when they weren’t doing much, like right now, walking side by side under the pouring rain. Even when they were in his room, doing nothing more than sit on his bed and talk. Or stare, for his part, as Hizashi was usually doing most of the talking.

(I love)

(the sound of your voice)

(I love)

(the way you move your arms)

(I love you)

(Yamada Hizashi)

(I love)

(the shape of your stupid smile)

(I love)

(the strange color of your eyes)

(I love you)

(I love you so much)

If somebody has to die because I’m too weak, I hope it’ll never be you.

How he would hate himself

for having formed such thought

“Hizashi” except, even if he was always right, he still couldn’t tell the future “What do you like about me?”

He still couldn’t tell the future, and only wanted to be reassured.

(What do you like)

(about me?)

(Because) (personally)

(I like nothing here)

(Tell me)

(you love me)

“Mmm, let me think” Hizashi’s grin widened, as he fickled Aizawa’s nose playfully (he hated it) (when Hizashi was doing that) “You’re very beautiful, for starters” are you blind or just stupid? “And smart” that, maybe, was true “And kind” kind? him? “You’re the kindest person I’ve ever known” perhaps asking his madly in love (was Hizashi) (in love with him?) (he never confessed) (so) boyfriend wasn’t such a great idea, after all “Do you want me to go on~♡?”

(No)

(Thank you)

(Why can’t I see)

(what your eyes seem to see?)

(No)

(Thank you)

(Why can’t I see)

(what your heart seem to see?)

(There’s something wrong about me)

(Something broken about me)

And if I can’t fix it, I won’t be good enough as a hero. And if I can’t be good enough as a hero, I will put everyone else in danger. And if I put everyone else in danger, someone will die eventually.

The math

are simple

How he hated to always be right, sometimes.

“No, it’s fine” he wished Hizashi’s praises made him feel better, for an unknown reason they just made him uncomfortable (he never was praising Hizashi) (he was only insulting him) (calling him annoying) (perhaps he should make an effort on that as well) (but how?) “I get it.”

He wished he knew how to flirt. He wished he knew how to care for others. He wished he could do more than abandoning his umbrella to shelter a stray cat from the rain.

(Oboro) (could do more)

(And) (Oboro is)

“Liar, liar, pants on fire~🎶” Hizashi hummed, rubbing his head and Aizawa refrained from purring a little (Hizashi’s touch) (was always so) (comforting) (perfect) “You’re still overthinking what the teacher has been telling you, aren’t you?” I overthink everything, Hizashi, that’s the beauty of it (he wished he could just) (sometimes) (shut off his stupid brain) “You said you didn’t care much about the fame and cameras, didn’t you?” what does it have to do with anything? “So it’s okay if it takes you a little more time than the others to come up with your special moves” ah, I see where you’re going with this “As you don’t need a grand début, or anything of the sort, right?”

But you’re wrong. You’re wrong, Hizashi. I don’t worry about my career, I don’t worry about how this will impact me in the future. No, Hizashi. I don’t worry about all this, truth is, I don’t even care.

(I just don’t want)

(people to be in danger) (because of me)

(I just don’t want)

(people to be wounded) (because of me)

A weak hero

is a danger to those around him

(I just don’t want)

(people to be impeded) (because of me)

(I just don’t want)

(people to die) (because of me)

If you’re too weak

someone will die

If he knew how the story would end, he would have made completely different choices. If he knew how the story would end, he would have never let Oboro die.

“Don’t be all doom and gloom” Hizashi poked his forehead repeatedly “If you keep frowning this much” well, my smile isn’t as pretty as yours (my smile) (is scary) (somehow) “You’ll get wrinkles before you turn old.”

Will you be there

when I’ll be old too?

Will you be there

or will you be gone?

Will you be there

or will you be

What are you thinking about, idiot? (I just want) (him) (in my life forever) I can’t talk so how can I have him know

how much

he means to me?

how much

I care about him?

how much

I love him?

“You’re annoying” his words were not good, his words were not good so he rested his head on Hizashi’s shoulder, so he took Hizashi’s hand “Hizashi.”

His words were no good, his words were never good. Why couldn’t he be nice, why could he never be nice? Why did he have to be grumpy, why did he have to be annoyed, all the time?

(I’m not sure)

(I can say it)

I love

you

(I’m not sure)

(I’m allowed to say it)

I love

you

(I’m scared)

(if I do)

(I’m scared)

(if I speak)

I love

you

I love you too much for you to exit my life. So I’d rather keep doing things I know I’ve been allowed to do, so far.

“Ay, ay” at least Hizashi didn’t seem to be affected by his words, as he gave Aizawa’s head a gentle kiss “I love you too.”

What

did you say?

Hizashi

what did you say?

(My heart)

(My heart)

(My heart)

Guess it was allowed all along. Guess it wouldn’t have scared you away. (Were you) (waiting for it) (as well?)

“Hizashi” sorry “Me too” sorry I kept you waiting “I love you.”

Sorry

my love

They kissed. Simply, naturally. They kissed. They kissed, and they were shy, and they were hesitant, as the words they just exchanged felt as heavy as a thousand vows, as important as a thousand promises. They kissed, and they were shy, their lips brushing, a few pecks, then their tongues (and Hizashi’s taste) (Hizashi’s taste was) (he shivered) their tongues, then their hands, grabbing at their bodies, grabbing at their clothes (Not too fast) (Shouta) (you just confessed) (not too fast) They kissed, and he wanted to touch. They kissed, and he wanted more.

Your skin

Your smooth skin

Your body

Your warm body

I want it

I want it all

To see

To touch

To have

To hold

I love you

I love you whole

I’m not very good at all this stuff. I’m not very good at voicing my feelings, or taking care of your needs. I’m not very good at all that is required of me, as your boyfriend. I’m not very good at all this stuff. But if I can make you feel good, if I can give you pleasure, if I can make you feel loved, then maybe, maybe

Hizashi held him closer

and a thrill went down his spine

(Do you)

(like it?)

Hizashi deepened the kiss

and he moaned against his lips

(Does it)

(feel good?)

His hand grabbed the clothing

twisted it between his fingers

(Do you)

(want it?)

His hand slid under the shirt

rested on Hizashi’s slender hip

(Do you)

(want me?)

Because I do

I do

Except Hizashi squirmed. Except Hizashi squirmed, Hizashi yelped and Aizawa could recognize the face he was making when he was trying to contain his quirk. Except he went too far, too fast, driven by his own eagerness and the dirty scenarios triggered by all the previous teasing (The hormones) (they said) (and he wasn’t even on testosterone) (yet) Hizashi was shy. Hizashi was shy, he should have known.

Just touching

took a while

Just kissing

took a while

So anything else

So anything further

He wasn’t really good at anything, besides solving complex equations, was he?

“Sorry” he should have known, so he apologized, broke the kiss, and stared (all he could do) (was stare) “Is it too much?” have I gone too far? “Should I stop?”

I really want you. To feel good with me, to feel good because of me. I really want to. Be good to you, be so good to you so you, as well, would never want to let me go.

You’re my sunshine

My only sunshine

“No” and he let a deep sigh of relief, when Hizashi grinned, chuckled, even if nervously so, as he scratched the back of his head “No, it feels good” it might feel good, but you feel better “But your hands are fucking cold, what the hell.”

You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart. Or so I hope.

(Are you)

(serious right now?)

(Are you)

(deflecting my question right now?)

(I hate that)

(I can’t tell)

I only want what’s best for you. I only do what’s best for you. Or so I hope.

“I know” he couldn’t tell and he hated that he couldn’t tell “That’s why” so he went with the joke “I’m trying to warm them up.”

It would be better, if he could play on the inflections on his voice, just like Hizashi was playing on the inflections of his voice, when he was telling a joke. It would be better, if he could smile, with a nice smile, with a nice warm smile full of love, and not the scary Totoro grin he could only manage to flash. It would be better, if his face actually conveyed his emotions, if his face wasn’t as unreadable as it always was, if his face could hint Hizashi he was joking and not dead serious.

“That’s what I am to you?” at least Hizashi understood the joke, and answered in his loud overdramatic tone “Your personal heater?”

I wish. I wish, because the nights are cold without you.

(Those kinds of words)

(never left his mouth)

“Heaters don’t talk.”

(Those kinds of words)

(always did)

They kissed again. They touched again. Or, to be more exact, he kissed Hizashi again, he touched Hizashi again. Putting his hand on his hip, at the exact same spot, to take things slow, not to scare him away (I don’t want you) (to be scared) (I only want you) (to feel good) (to feel warm) (to feel loved) Putting his hand on his hip, stroking his exposed skin, squeezing, scratching softly, waiting for a sign, waiting for an authorization, waiting for any gesture that would be a sign of encouragement (Because) (if you can feel good by my hands) (if you can feel good because of me) (then I would) A sign, an authorization, a gesture. He was granted it when Hizashi laid down on the bed, on his bed. He was granted it when Hizashi waved his fingers to ask him to crawl on top.

You’re beautiful

You’re so beautiful

You’re gorgeous

You’re so gorgeous

You shine so bright

like the blazing sun

(Then I would be) (of some value) (to you) (to this world)

“Can I” he clumsily loosened Yamada’s tie, his fingers were shaking “Look at you?”

(Can I hold you?)

(Can I see you?)

(Can I see you?)

(The whole you?)

I love you

and I want to give you more

(Can I undress you?)

(Can I look at you?)

(Can I touch you?)

(All of you?)

I love you

and I want to give you all of me

“I, ahem” except Hizashi rolled his eyes, except Hizashi looked away (what’s the matter?) (is it too soon?) (am I too eager?) “I don’t mind if it’s you, but” except Hizashi pulled his glasses up, in order to hide his eyes and their strange color (what’s the matter?) (is it your eyes?) “I don’t like my body much.”

Nonsense

You’re beautiful

You’re so beautiful

Nonsense

You have great fashion tastes

and an even greater personality

Nonsense

I don’t know where this comes from, but

The voices, they’re wrong

Nonsense

You’re the most beautiful 

man I ever met

(Don’t listen)

(to them)

“Nonsense” he shook his head “You look great” you look better than I ever will (I love you) “And, if you don’t like your body, well” I don’t care, because I love it (and I love you) “I’ll love it for you.”

(I love) (your body)

(and I love) (you)

(I love) (your eyes)

(and I love) (you)

Everything

Everything about you

(I love) (your voice)

(and I love) (you)

(I love) (how loud you are)

(and I love) (you)

is precious

oh so precious to me

“Okay” though he bashed his eyelids, though he bit on his lower lip “Okay, you can look at me” are you sure? (you aren’t saying yes) (to please me) (are you?) I won’t forgive you “You can touch me” I won’t forgive you, and I won’t forgive myself “All you want.”

I want you. I want all of you. But, most of all, I want you to want me. I want you to want all of me.

I will

give myself to you

So you can feel good by my hands. So you can feel good because of me. So you can feel good, in this body you don’t seem to like.

“Alright” he straightened a bit, carefully unbuttoning Hizashi’s shirt “If it’s weird, or else” exposing a pale chest, covered in tiny freckles, a pale chest he ran a careful hand on “Stop me.” 

You don’t like your body

you say

(Nonsense)

It’s beautiful

You’re beautiful

You don’t like your body

you say

(Nonsense)

You’re so beautiful

Can’t believe you’re mine

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to say so he kept silent. Touching Hizashi, kissing Hizashi. Taking his glasses off so he could look into his beautiful mesmerizing red eyes. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to say so he kept silent. Paying attention to Hizashi’s reactions, paying attention to the remaining tension in his limbs so he would be sure he wasn’t crossing any line. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to say so he kept silent. And worshipped every inch of Hizashi’s body.

I will

gift the world to you

Chapter Text

It helped for a little while. What they had. Their relationship, their couple and all the time they were spending together. It helped for a little while. What they had. Oboro, Nemuri and the casual conversations they were having on the rooftop. Casual conversations about the cat, casual conversations about their future, together, if not with Nemuri, at least with their trio. Casual conversations about their future, casual conversations about their studies, casual conversations about the next prank they should be pulling on the teacher, alright, Shouta wasn’t often taking part in those, Shouta was mostly listening when it came to pranks and jokes, yet he was always there, yet he always went with their plan.

If he closed his eyes

he could remember

They weren’t labelled 3-baka

for no reason

If he closed his eyes

he could remember

The annoyed look on their teacher’s face

when they were being scolded again

If he closed his eyes

he could remember

All the hours they spent together, in detention

obviously expressing no remorse

(Those were) (the moments)

(These were) (their days)

It helped for a little while. What they had, and the afternoon they had spent in Shouta’s room even more. It helped him gain some confidence, if not in his abilities as a future hero, at least in the kind of boyfriend he could be. He could remember, even now, even after all those years, he could remember, and he could remember pretty well.

Shouta

and his flushed cheeks

Shouta

and his staring eyes

Shouta

and his trembling hands

Shouta

and his nervous silence

(Shouta)

(Only Shouta)

Shouta

and his careful fingers (traveling on his chest)

Shouta

and his soft lips (kissing every inch of his skin)

Shouta

and his hesitant (yet very beautiful) (yet very desirable) body

Shouta

and his fluffy black hair (cascading around his face)

(Shouta)

(Only Shouta)

It helped for a little while. What they had, their couple, and how well they were fitting together. It helped Shouta believe his hands, the very hands he was calling clumsy and useless all the time, because he wasn’t strong during sport practise, because he wasn’t always accurate, because he was often dropping stuff when he wasn’t paying attention, his hands, the very hands he was often so angry about, could be good, could feel good. It helped Shouta believe he could be good, if not as a student (Yamada would argue) (he was in fact very good) (just putting the emphasis too much on what he couldn’t do) (instead of on what he could do) at least as a person. It helped, not only Shouta but also Yamada himself. It helped him feel good, wanted, desired. It helped him feel loved, instead of being yelled at, it was a change, for once, and a sweet one.

(Shouta smiled at him)

(and his heart skipped a beat)

(Shouta kissed him)

(and his heart raced even more)

(Shouta touched him)

(and a thrill went down his spine)

(Shouta said) (I love you)

(and he shivered)

(Shouta)

(Only Shouta)

It helped for a little while. It helped, and it helped a lot. Him, Shouta, the both of them. Three words, three small words and they made quite a difference. Three words, and a few kisses. Three words, and a few strokes. And they made quite a difference. They made quite a difference, as he didn’t happen to feel as bad as he could have, as he didn’t happen to feel as despicable as he could have. And he hoped Shouta was feeling the same, even though they never really talked about it, they should, probably, they should talk about their feelings, they waited a whole year before being able to confess, but he was scared, he was scared still, what if he was saying too much, what if he was saying something out of place, what if, what if, what if-

You’re thinking too much

Yamada Hizashi

You tell Shouta to take a break

but

You should listen

to your own advice

It helped for a little while. It helped, at least until reality caught up with him, caught up with them, and with Shouta the most. Until reality caught up with them, and he was worried all the efforts his always gloomy and all too silent boyfriend had been making in the past days would go down the drain. He was worried Shouta would call himself useless and unreliable again, something he had stopped doing, since they kissed and touched in his bedroom.

“You three again” their homeroom teacher sighed, crossing their arms on their chest “You still haven’t found an agency for your internship” right, he promised he’d look into it (except so much happened) (with Oboro) (with Shouta) (with Nemuri and Sushi too) (so much happened) (and he forgot) (he was always forgetting) “I’m starting to wonder if you’re taking your studies seriously” oh he was, he might seem like he was turning everything into a joke but “Especially you, Yamada.”

Yes, yes. He knew. He knew, he was aware.

You’re loud again

Hizashi

You’re annoying again

Hizashi

Stop joking around

Hizashi

Be serious

Hizashi

Why can’t you be

normal for once?

Yes, yes. He knew. He knew, he was aware. He was used to hearing those words, after all.

Stop playing your stupid games

get to work

Stop listening to your music

get to work

It’s not with those grades

that you’ll get into UA

It’s not with those grades

that you’ll become a hero

You used to be good

why are you failing now?

It helped for a little while. It helped, but not for long. Not for long, and a sole reproach from the teacher, a sole reminder he didn’t do what he was supposed to do, was enough to remind him he wasn’t enough for most around him. Not for long, and now the voice was echoing again at the back of his skull.

(Useless)

(Deaf)

(Idiot)

(Useless)

(Loud)

(Idiot)

(Useless)

(Annoying)

(Idiot)

(Useless)

(Useless)

(Useless)

(Useless)

(Useless)

“I’m home” he mumbled, closing the door, kicking his shoes off “Mom, dad, I’m home.”

No answer, whatsoever. Except their shoes were in the entrance, hence they should be there. No answer, whatsoever. They might be busy, doing whatever they were usually doing at this time of day, he knew better than to interfere when he wasn’t asked to. They might be busy, he’d tell them about it later, not that he wanted to tell them, but he had no other choice. He didn’t find an agency, after all. He didn’t find an agency and, in the little time he had left, he could only ask his parents for help. He didn’t find an agency and, if he wanted to make progress as a student, if he wanted to make progress as a future hero, he couldn’t afford not to look for one. He couldn’t afford not to look for one, except the list was ridiculously big. He did great in the sports festival, in the end, his quirk was quite useful, he did great and was noticed, hence many heroes requiring his presence for his internship.

At first

it pleased him

So many heroes, so many people

acknowledging his value

Then

it frightened him

What if they realized

he was all jokes and nothing serious?

Then

it terrified him

What if they realized

he was nothing but a pathological façade?

(He had) (to smile)

(He had) (to smile)

(He had) (to smile)

He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to aim high, for a great agency, for a renowned agency, for a popular agency, there were a few, on his list, though, what if, what if his attitude was pissing off the hero under whom he would be studying, it wouldn’t be good for his career, it wouldn’t be good for his future reputation. He didn’t want to aim too low, the stakes wouldn’t be as important, and he could afford being silly, clumsy sometimes, not to mention he had this awful tendency to run chronically late, it wouldn’t be much a problem, with a smaller agency, except, except, he still wanted to become a hero, after all, and, unlike Shouta, he cared about the social aspect of the profession, and, unlike Shouta, he cared about building his social network. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to aim high, he wanted to live up to his ambitions. He didn’t know if he should. He didn’t know if he could. He didn’t know if he had it in him. He didn’t know, because-

Can’t you turn down the volume

Hizashi?

Can’t you focus for a second

Hizashi?

Can’t you do what you are told

Hizashi?

Can’t you obey

Hizashi?

Why can’t you be

normal for once?

He didn’t know what to do. So he pulled the list from his backpack, uncrumpled it with the palm of his hand, yet another important form he failed to probably take care of, yet another important form he failed to properly fill in, his parents wouldn’t fail to mention that part, his mother especially. He didn’t know what to do. So he stared at the sheet, so he stared at the list, hoping a name would appeal to him, hoping the answer would come to him, rocking his legs under his desk, juggling with his pencils, drumming his fingers on the table. Of course, no name appealed to him, of course not, otherwise he would have found an agency already. Of course, no answer came to him, of course not, otherwise he wouldn’t bother looking for one, right now.

(Perhaps he should)

(ask Shouta)

(No) (No, he couldn’t)

(bother him)

(Shouta)

(wouldn’t know how to help)

(Shouta)

(would depreciate himself) (for not being able to help)

(Uh) (oh)

(not a good idea) (Mic)

(Perhaps he should)

(ask Oboro)

(No) (No, he couldn’t)

(bother him)

(Oboro)

(was carefree) (unlike Hizashi) (truly carefree)

(Oboro)

(would tell him) (to listen to his heart) (not to overthink it)

(Uh) (oh)

(not a good idea) (Mic)

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do, but he had to do something. He had to pick an agency that would be a great stepping stone for his career, he had to pick an agency that would allow him to learn a lot about the requirements of being a hero, he had to pick an agency he would be comfortable in, he had to pick an agency his parents would find prestigious enough. Too many parameters. Too many parameters, and he didn’t have Shouta’s brain to calculate the perfect strategy, to find the perfect place for him to write down on his form.

All he could do

was stare (his brain empty)

All he could do

was play his games (to silence the voice)

All he could do

was avoid the problem (pretend it doesn’t exist)

All he could do

was procrastinate (pretend he was hearing) (the voice)

Useless idiot

Useless idiot

Useless idiot

“So, Hizashi” his dad asked, grabbing his bowl of rice “How did school go today?”

Should he tell the truth right away? Or should he try to find a way to sugarcoat it? (Was it of any use?) (His mother) (would get angry) (either way)

“Good, I think I did well on the last math test” he should at least start with the positive, so he could slide in the negative (was it) (of any use?) (his mother would) (yell) (either way) “Shouta really helped me study, and the extra classes help too, not that I say I’ll become a genius but” but you’re stalling, Yamada Hizashi, you’re stalling and you’re “But, yeah, I guess I did alright.”

He was talking too much. He was talking too much, too loud when he was getting nervous. He was talking too much. He was talking too much, and he could feel his quirk, tingling at the back of his throat.

“Anything else” his mother’s tone was cold, inquisitive, as always “You want to tell us, perhaps?”

How he hated it. How he hated how easily she could read him, as if he was an open book. How he hated how he could never seem to be able to hide anything from her.

“Yeah, I have” he confessed, tilting his head to the side, forcing an awkward smile (how should he) (deliver) (the bomb?) “The homeroom teacher asked to see Oboro, Shouta and me, the three of us” oh no, no, no, he shouldn’t have brought it that way, his parents would think, his mother would think “Don’t worry, we didn’t get detention this time, mom” he’d rather defuse her right away (was it) (of any use?) (his mother would) (yell) (when she would learn) “It’s about our internship, we haven’t found an agency yet, I haven’t found an agency yet.”

Perhaps the best way

to drop the bomb

was simply

to tell the truth

(Please) (don’t yell)

(Please) (don’t yell) (at me)

And so he stared at his dish, as if his rice, as if his fish were the most fascinating things he had ever seen in his entire life.

“What do you mean” though he could help tensing, though he could refrain his hand from curling around his chopsticks “You haven’t found an agency yet?” don’t yell don’t yell don’t yell “Hizashi, it’s been weeks.”

I know, I know. But so much happened, mom. So much happened, you have no idea. (Shouta told me) I love you (do you know) (how precious that is?) 

“I know” he whined, a little too loud, his quirk, he had to be careful about his quirk (he was nervous) (all too nervous) “I know but I had a lot to do.”

He didn’t tell them about his relationship with Shouta, at least not about the true nature of it. He didn’t tell them about his relationship with Shouta, he was too afraid of their judgment, since they were judging, literally, every aspect of life, everything he was doing.

They were judging

his looks, and what he was wearing

They were judging

his tastes, and the music he was listening to

They were judging

his friends, everyone he was going out with

They were judging

his grades, and his inability to do better

(To be honest) (it was a miracle)

(they agreed to) (let him go to the concert)

They were judging

his attitude, his inability to focus

They were judging

his loud voice, his quirk and how easily it activated

They were judging

his words, his actions

They were judging

everything he was saying, everything he was saying

(To be honest) (it was miracle)

(he still managed) (to hold it together)

He would never be good. He would never be enough. Why couldn’t he simply resign himself to this fact? Why couldn’t he simply accept this fact? He would never be good. He would never be enough. Otherwise, they would be satisfied already. 

“It’s not an excuse, you should know as much” except it hurt, except it always hurt “You have a job to do, as a student, you were the one who insisted to go to UA, didn’t you, despite your grades” his grades weren’t so bad, sure, they could be better, but why should he waste all his precious time when what he was doing was more than good enough to pass? (math was the exception) (alright) (but he was getting better at math) (somehow) “Going to UA was your decision, so why can’t you stick with your decision? Are you bored of school already?” no, no, he wasn’t bored, far from it but (but Shouta) (but Oboro) (they matter more) “Hizashi, answer me.”

What should he answer? What should he answer when he felt like crying?

I hate it

I hate it so much

Why aren’t you happy with me?

Why are you never happy with me?

I’m doing my best

I’m doing all you want

Or trying to, at least

Can’t you see I’m trying?

Mom

Mom, please

I hate it

I hate it so much

When I succeed

you barely seem satisfied

When I fail

I only disappoint you

I’m doing my best

to be all you want

Mom

Mom, can’t you see?

What should he answer? What should he answer when his eyes were already filled with tears?

“I’m not” he shook his head, his hand gripping the chopsticks so hard he threatened to snap them in half “I swear, mom, I’m not.”

I simply don’t know which agency would be best for me to pick. I simply don’t know which agency you think it’s better for me to pick. I simply don’t know which is the good choice, the choice that is less likely to make you less, the choice that, even if you don’t praise me, even if you never praise me, won’t be ashamed I picked.

(Tell me) (mom)

(Tell me) (what to do you)

(Tell me) (mom)

(Tell me what to pick)

(I don’t) (want you to yell)

(I don’t) (want you to yell)

(I don’t) (want you to yell)

“Then why haven’t you picked one already?” why do you have to be so cold, all the time? “What is holding you back?” why can’t you be warm? (Shouta’s mom) (she’s warm) “Are you short on offers? You did decent at the sports festivals, I recall.”

He did great. He did very great, he scored in the top 10, not that it was enough for his parents, not that it was enough for his mother, it never was. He did great, he did very great. Hence the many, all too many offers he received.

Which one?

Which one?

Which one?

Which one?

Which one?

“I received too many” he bashed his eyelids, two tears escaped from his eyes “I don’t which one to pick, I-” she didn’t yell, yet he was crying (he would never) (be good) (he would never) (be enough) “I’m sorry, mom.”

He would always be the family disappointment.