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Hizashi is not enjoying today’s training exercise. His most powerful asset, his quirk, is almost useless for this challenge, an obstacle course through the forest biome, and the forest itself is a nightmare, filled with bugs and branches that slap him across the face as he runs.
Still, he thinks he’s not doing too badly. More than half the class is still behind him, caught up in one of the hidden traps, or off the path and lost. Hizashi doesn’t usually care much about winning, but the idea of leaving this terrible place full of trees puts a little extra power into his legs.
Aizawa is somewhere ahead of him, he knows. For some reason, lately he’s been very good at knowing exactly where Aizawa is. It’s not likely they’ll cross paths - Aizawa is more athletic than Hizashi, quicker and stronger. He’s probably done with this by now.
Hizashi is going to try to talk to him again, he decides as he runs. Today might be the day Aizawa answers. He’s not sure why he wants to befriend him so badly - Aizawa has never given him any encouragement, or shown any interest in friendship with anyone at all.
Still, Hizashi can’t help but be impressed by the ferocious way he fought at the Sports Festival, the determined way he trains. He wants to know more about the boy that talks to no one. He wants to see what Aizawa looks like without a scowl.
Hizashi must be almost done with this. There’s a break in the trees ahead of him, and just beyond that-
He takes in a breath. Aizawa is there, on the ground, clutching at his leg like it hurts him. Something must have happened - Aizawa wouldn’t just trip over his feet. And sure enough, when Hizashi looks carefully, he sees the wire stretched across the path, barely visible. He jumps it, then skids to a stop.
Aizawa is… not crying, exactly, but something not far from it. His eyes are swollen, red and tear-stained at the corners, but from the furious set of his mouth, Hizashi doesn’t think it’s from the pain of his injuries.
He glances ahead and yes, that would explain it: the finish line, just out of Aizawa’s reach, past a deep ravine bridged by a narrow log. Nothing he can manage in his condition.
He looks back at Aizawa. He’s trembling, in pain or anger or disappointment. Hizashi doesn’t know, but he wants, very badly, to help. He considers his options.
He could run ahead and get assistance for Aizawa. That’s the obvious choice - their teacher is at the finish line, not even a minute away if he sprints. That’s what anyone would tell him to do.
But it feels wrong. Aizawa is injured, but that’s not why he’s crying. Going for help will solve a problem, but not Aizawa’s problem, which is that he simply doesn’t want to quit. Hizashi can’t blame him. Enough of their classmates already treat Aizawa like he doesn’t deserve to be among them. A loss today will only fuel that fire.
And it’s not fair, thinks Hizashi. It’s not fair that Aizawa should fail after getting so far, with the end so close. It’s not fair that the others don’t accept him, when he works so hard and trains so much. It’s not fair that some people can get by on just their powerful quirks, and others have to fight for every scrap. There’s nothing fair about it.
So, Hizashi will make it fair. That’s the kind of Hero he wants to be.
He walks over to Aizawa, hoping the other boy won’t attack him in his fury. Just like they learned last week in class, he brings Aizawa’s wrists together, leans in, and hoists him over his shoulder. Aizawa doesn’t struggle, which makes it easier. He’s probably too surprised.
“What are you doing?” Aizawa finally shrieks as Hizashi makes for the ravine. Hizashi isn’t really sure of that himself. If he can’t keep his footing, it’ll be a long drop for both of them. But he thinks he can, at least enough to try.
“Don’t worry!” Hizashi yells back, trying to sound confident as he takes a careful step onto the fallen tree. “We’ve got this!” He tightens his grip around Aizawa’s waist, and extends his arm for balance. Aizawa is very still against his back, which helps. Even so, it’s slow going, inch by inch across the makeshift bridge.
When he steps down onto the other side, Hizashi lets out the breath he’d been holding. That’s the hard part, over and done with. He runs across the finish line, tired but elated, and tries to set Aizawa down without jostling his leg too much.
He catches Aizawa’s gaze, hoping the other boy won’t be too angry. He doesn’t look it though - his eyes are wide, surprised and almost vulnerable. It’s not a look Hizashi’s seen on Aizawa before, and it makes his still-pounding heart beat a bit harder.
“Aizawa, Yamada,” their teacher says as she passes. “Well done.”
“I didn’t make it,” Aizawa admits. Hizashi wants to smack himself on the forehead. “You saw.”
“Are you over the finish line?” she asks. Aizawa nods, hesitantly, like he’s not quite sure. “Then you made it. Hero work is more about results than your methods. And I’ll certainly never deduct points for cooperation. Allies are your greatest advantage in the field.”
She nods at Hizashi, and he straightens up, wanting to agree. It only makes sense that they would help each other - aren’t they all stronger together? She smiles a little, as if she can see his thoughts written on his face. “Can you help your friend to Recovery Girl?”
“Of course!” He replies quickly, not wanting to hear Aizawa correct her. They’re not exactly friends. But the blush that stains Aizawa’s cheeks makes him think maybe that’s no longer true. He reaches towards Aizawa, trying to keep his smile from growing too-wide and foolish. “Need a lift?”
“Just help me up,” Aizawa mutters, grabbing his hands and pulling himself to a standing position. He winces, like it hurts, and Hizashi takes a quick step closer to throw Aizawa’s arm around his shoulder.
“We’ve got this,” he says again, more sure of himself than before.
“I know,” Aizawa replies, like he has no doubt of it. Like he trusts Hizashi.
Hizashi tightens the arm around him, determined not to let him down.
———
“Call me Shouta,” he says, just loud enough for Hizashi to hear him over the din of the arcade. He sounds hesitant, like he’s expecting Hizashi to say no, or to laugh, and Hizashi almost chokes with how fast he rushes to correct that impression.
“Really? That’s so cool! Call me Hizashi then!” He tries to put all the enthusiasm he feels into it, to reassure Shouta that this step in their friendship is wanted and welcome.
It seems to work. Shouta’s shoulders relax, and he grins up at Hizashi, wiping his hair out of his eyes. He misses a piece, and Hizashi has to shove his hands into his pockets to keep from giving in to the strange impulse to tuck it behind Shouta’s ear.
It’s different, after that.
“C’mon Shouta, let’s go.” Hizashi says, gathering up his things as the other students file out of the room around them. Shouta, slouched over his desk, shows no sign of movement at all.
“Five minutes,” comes from Shouta’s muffled form. Well, Hizashi thinks, it was a long day in training. And Shouta does look tired. Hizashi can wait five minutes. For Shouta, he can.
The minutes pass, second by agonizing second as Hizashi sits and waits, sighing and tapping his foot the entire time. Until, at last, the terms have been met. “It’s been five minutes! Are you dead? Let’s go,” Hizashi whines, leaping to his feet and shaking Shouta by the arm.
Shouta looks up, blearily, then lays his head back down against the desk. “Five more minutes.”
“No!” Hizashi huffs, running a hand through his hair. Enough is enough. He takes his bag and secures it carefully over his shoulder. Then he picks up Shouta’s bag and puts it over his other shoulder. “You brought this on yourself,” he says to the room at large, before he leans down, and as gently as he can, pulls Shouta onto his back, like the first time he’d carried him, during the obstacle course.
Shouta doesn’t struggle, or say anything at all really, besides some low grumbling at being jostled. Good enough. Hizashi starts for the hallway. The bags knock uncomfortably into his legs, but it’s not too bad. Shouta doesn’t exactly weigh a ton.
There are still students chatting outside the classroom, and their looks of surprise and horror are something Hizashi will laugh over later. In the meantime, their comments are entertaining enough.
“What’s that idiot doing now?”
“Is that Aizawa?”
“Rest in peace, Yamada.”
The shock on their faces at seeing aloof, disinterested Aizawa flung over his shoulder and practically asleep sends a burst of something like pride through Hizashi. Shouta isn’t easy like this with any of them - only him.
They get all the way to the front of the building before Shouta stirs, rolling off Hizashi and taking his bag without comment. “Later Shouta!” Hizashi calls, loud enough that any students still milling around will clearly hear him use Shouta’s first name.
He might have overdone it. Shouta’s cheeks darken into a blush, and Hizashi braces himself for a sharp reply. But the only thing he says is, “Bye Hizashi” before walking away with a slight wave of his hand.
It’s a good feeling. Hizashi sort of hopes it happens again sometime.
He wasn’t really considering that ‘sometime’ would be ‘the next day,’ but here they are, still in the classroom, five minutes after the bell.
“Come on, let’s go,” Hizashi says, trying to sound stern. “Don’t make me carry you again.”
It doesn’t work. Shouta looks up at him for a moment, unimpressed, before laying his head back against his crossed arms.
Hizashi presses his lips together. “You’re taking the bags this time.” As quick as he can, before Shouta can avoid it, he drops the straps of their bags over Shouta, before taking his hands and pulling him to his feet and up onto Hizashi’s back. Shouta jumps, just enough that Hizashi can catch him under his thighs and settle him into a more comfortable position. “I warned you!” he says, in case Shouta is going to complain.
Shouta doesn’t say anything though, just wraps his arms around Hizashi’s neck and drops his head forward onto his shoulder. Hizashi is willing to call it a compromise.
The students in the hall still watch them as they pass, but it’s different. They’re not as closed-off or shocked as they were yesterday. In fact, everyone looks amused as they whisper among themselves.
“Did you know they were friends?”
“Looks like Aizawa figured out an even better way to save energy!”
“Genius tactics. I respect it.”
It’s a little surprising, but Hizashi doesn’t mind it. He likes people knowing that he and Shouta are friends. That Shouta, who doesn’t even talk to anyone, is comfortable enough with Hizashi to let him this close.
The next morning, when Hizashi smiles as Shouta walks into their classroom, he’s not the only one.
“Hey Energy Saver! Nice to see you on your feet for once!”
“Careful, he’s conserving his strength to put you on your ass in training later.”
“Shit, you’re right. Yamada, stop carrying him around!”
And everyone sounds so… friendly. Like Shouta was never the odd one out among them. Which makes sense, Hizashi thinks. Shouta’s the one who softened first, even if it was just towards Hizashi.
Shouta doesn’t seem to know what to make of it though. He’s still standing in the doorway, clutching the strap of his bag. It’s cute, how confused he looks. After a moment of staring into the classroom, his eyes meet Hizashi’s, and the wariness of his expression melts away into the half-smile Hizashi has come to like very much.
Hizashi’s heart stutters, knocked out of rhythm by the realization of exactly how much he’s been looking forward to seeing Shouta this morning. How happy he is to see him smiling. How cute he looks. It’s bad, super bad. He can’t have a crush on Shouta, he just can’t. They haven’t even been friends that long - it will overwhelm him, drive him away. It just can’t happen.
Hizashi’s heart beats hard against his ribs as Shouta walks over and drops into his seat. “Morning,” he mutters, looking at Hizashi out of the corner of his eye.
Hizashi pulls himself together, just enough to force out a bright, “good morning, Shouta!” It’s a lie. This morning is terrible. A disaster.
Shouta doesn’t answer, just pulls a candy bar out of his bag. He snaps it in two as he unwraps it, passing one half over to Hizashi without a word.
Hizashi takes it. It’s blueberry, his favorite. Not Shouta’s though. “Thanks,” he says, quieter than he’d intended.
Shouta smiles again, just a little. “No complaints about candy for breakfast?”
“It has fruit. That’s breakfast,” Hizashi says. He doesn’t believe it, but he also doesn’t want to argue with Shouta right now, even in fun. There’s too much going on inside him, too many words knotted up in his chest that might sneak out. “I’ll buy you something healthy after school.”
He’s expecting a complaint, but Shouta just hums in agreement as he eats his chocolate. He’s still smiling, just enough that Hizashi has to look down at his desk. He shoves the candy into his mouth so he won’t have to say anything else.
It’s just a crush. It will go away, Hizashi tells himself. It’s fine. Shouta doesn’t know. He’ll never know.
———
It doesn’t go away. If anything, the more time he and Shouta spend together, the worse it gets. Every time Shouta stops in the street to pet a stray cat, or brings Hizashi some trinket he saw in a store and thought he’d like, or falls asleep half-collapsed across Hizashi’s lap, the feelings Hizashi is trying so hard to suppress get stronger.
His trip overseas the summer of their second year is a curse and a blessing. He gets on the plane thinking the distance will help, that if he doesn’t see Shouta every day he can learn to control this. It doesn’t work at all. If anything, being away from Shouta makes things worse.
He knows he texts too much, but he can’t help it. Sometimes he’ll send a message or a photo just to make sure Shouta will still reply. And Shouta never fails him, whatever time it is, even early in the morning, a part of the day Shouta has never seen willingly. It’s enough to make Hizashi hope Shouta is thinking of him too.
Shouta doesn’t send as many photos as Hizashi, and when he does they’re never of himself. The most Hizashi gets is a glimpse of his reflection in a windowpane, or the edge of a hand as Shouta holds something steady. It’s frustrating - he misses Shouta, wants badly to see him, but that’s not something you can ask a friend for, is it? Hizashi doesn’t know. And even if Shouta didn’t mind, such a request would surely reveal too much.
So he doesn’t ask, just tries to content himself with the occasional photos of Shouta’s high scores at the arcade, or interesting things he finds at the comic shop they favor.
Today, Shouta must be visiting the cat cafe - Hizashi’s phone lights up with photo after photo of the cats, most of them a little blurry. Hizashi can feel the foolish, enamored smile spread across his face as they arrive, but he can’t help it and doesn’t try. He scrolls through them slowly, wishing he was there with Shouta, making up ridiculous, dramatic stories about the cats just to watch him laugh.
He freezes over the last one. It’s Shouta’s favorite cat, the smallest of the bunch, curled over Shouta’s shoulder, arms stretched out and pawing at the air adorably. But that’s not the best part. Shouta’s face is in the photo, turned to the camera and smiling so sweetly Hizashi doesn’t want to even blink. He can almost hear Shouta’s excited whisper, ("Look Hizashi, look!”) can almost see the barely-restrained, excited trembling in the arm he’d stretched to take the picture.
That’s the moment he knows, knows, that what he feels for Shouta is never going to fade, won’t ever be simply friendship. It can’t - that’s never what this was. Hizashi had admired him before they ever spoke, had been impressed by his determination and strong will. And now that he knows him, knows how soft Shouta can be, how kind, he can only call this feeling love. Hizashi loves Shouta, he loves him, and it’s not going to go away.
The flight home takes eons, but is over too soon. What is he supposed to do now, he wonders, as he crawls into his own bed for the first time in two months. What if Shouta sees it all over Hizashi’s face tomorrow? What if Shouta doesn’t even plan to see him tomorrow? What if this summer changed everything, if Shouta’s discovered he’s happier on his own? Hizashi sleeps fitfully, and wakes too soon, to the sound of an incoming message from Shouta.
‘Let me know when to come over,’ it reads, and the relief of it sends Hizashi boneless, collapses him into his sheets.
‘Come now!’ He sends back, once he can make his fingers move again.
The lack of reply is expected, an indication that Shouta is on his way, and Hizashi rolls out of bed, buzzing with energy now as he cleans himself up and dresses.
He waits on the edge of his seat, glancing back and forth out the front window until he sees a familiar flash of dark hair rush by. He’s on his feet and almost to the entryway before he even hears the hesitant knock. Nerves forgotten in his excitement, Hizashi throws open the door.
The shock of how different Shouta looks startles a laugh out of him. “Wow, Shouta, you got so tall this summer!” It’s strange at first, but after a moment it doesn’t matter. Shouta’s confused and grumpy expression is just the same, and it eases something inside Hizashi, gives him the courage to grab Shouta by the arm and pull him into a hug.
“Did I?” Shouta asks, and Hizashi almost laughs again, because it’s just so Shouta not to have noticed. The cuffs of his pants are well above his ankles, and his once oversized shirt verges on too-tight.
“Yeah!” Hizashi says, trying not to let his amusement show. “You filled out a bit too, your shoulders are broader than mine!” It’s a good look on him. Hizashi tries very hard not to think about that.
“You need new clothes!” Hizashi’s mother calls from the living room, startling Hizashi into action. What if the shirt he brought back for Shouta is too small now! He rifles through his suitcase to find it, glad he hadn’t bothered to drag his bags to his room last night.
“Aha!” He lifts it triumphantly. It had taken him the whole two months to find the right gift - a dark blue shirt with a sleepy cat on it, its disinterested face a perfect match for Shouta’s when he’s tired. The words above it are in English: ‘I don’t care.’
Shouta takes it with the expected small smile, but there’s something behind his expression that bothers Hizashi. Something isn’t right, but he’s not sure what. The shirt fits, barely, and it’s soft, like Shouta prefers. They try the candy Hizashi brought back, and Shouta likes all of it, even the weird flavors, the way Hizashi knew he would. He’s never met a candy Shouta didn’t like.
Still, something feels unsettled, out of place. It’s just the first day, Hizashi tells himself. Things will go back to normal soon.
But they don’t. Shouta still comes by every day, they still do all their usual favorite things, but it’s different. Shouta sits a bit further from him than usual, walks a step or two out of reach. Hizashi doesn’t understand why, if he’s done something, and he can’t focus on anything else.
There’s a possibility Hizashi doesn’t want to think about. He tries to put it out of his mind, the idea that Shouta knows. Shouta knows how Hizashi feels about him, and he’s not comfortable with it. That’s why he’s put some distance between them, why he’s staying away.
It comes to a head three days later, on Hizashi’s couch. “This movie is boring,” Hizashi admits, getting up and stretching. “Let’s go listen to CDs in my room.”
Shouta looks up at him, eyes half-closed and sleepy. It’s one of Hizashi’s favorite Shouta-expressions, and he decides to try and keep it in place a little longer.
“Come on,” he says, reaching out to pull Shouta over his shoulder.
“Don’t!” Shouta jumps to his feet, steps away frantically. Hizashi yanks his hand back, holding it in the air above his chest.
He knows, shrieks a frantic voice inside his head. He knows, and he hates it! He doesn’t want you to touch him anymore! He knows! He knows he knows he knows!
“Sorry.” Hizashi tries hard not to let the tears in his eyes spill over. He doesn’t want to make Shouta feel guilty. None of this is Shouta’s fault. He’s not the one who changed things.
“You can’t,” Shouta starts, and Hizashi wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to explain, but something about Shouta’s expression makes him pause. His cheeks are pink, and one hand comes up to bury itself in his hair. “I’m too big.”
The relief stuns Hizashi for a moment. His secret is safe. Shouta doesn’t know about his feelings, isn’t upset with him or avoiding his touch. He just… thinks he’s grown that much? So much that Hizashi can’t carry him a few steps across a room? “Is that what you think?”
Shouta locks eyes with the ground. That’s what he thinks. “It’s logical,” he says, so quiet it’s hard to hear. “We’re the same size now.”
Hizashi wants to laugh, but the sad twist of Shouta’s lips holds him back. “Hm,” he hesitates as he decides how best to wipe that look away. But it’s obvious, isn’t it? Shouta’s disappointed Hizashi won’t be able to pick him up anymore. Hizashi should have guessed days ago, would have, if he hadn’t been so worried about himself. He can start making up for it now. “Okay.”
He walks over to Shouta, who looks like he might be readying himself to run. Before he can, Hizashi leans forward, wraps his arms around Shouta’s waist, and lifts, pulling Shouta against himself. It’s harder than it would have been two months ago, that’s true, but it’s not that difficult. And when Shouta’s arms and legs come up to wrap around him, the effort is well worth it. “Just like a koala!” He can’t help laughing, even as Shouta’s blush deepens. “Cute!”
Shouta doesn’t say anything as Hizashi walks them towards his bedroom, still caught up in his own thoughts. “As if I’d ever drop you,” Hizashi says, in case he’s still worried. “You think too much.”
He gets no answer, just a flutter in his heart that steals all his words away as Shouta squeezes him a little tighter. It’s not my fault I feel like this, Hizashi tells himself. Who wouldn’t love him?
To save himself from the moment, Hizashi lifts his arms, bouncing Shouta just a little, just enough to hear him laugh.
———
It starts like any other night they work together. He and Shouta begin their patrol near Shouta’s agency, walking the streets for a while until they find some petty criminals trying to pull something off. It doesn’t take long, not in this part of town.
The takedown goes smoothly at first. Shouta goes for the villain with the powerful telekinetic quirk, and Hizashi captures his partner. Business as usual.
“You know, it doesn’t have to be this way,” he says to the struggling man as he cuffs his ankles. “You could go back to school, get a degree. There are alternatives to crime.”
“Fuck you!” The man spits at him as he thrashes, before widening his eyes like he’s trying to use a quirk. Hizashi hesitates - he’s not sure what this guy can do - but all that happens is a slight tremor in the air of the filthy alley, and a swirl of dust as the grime on the ground flies around. It’s nothing.
Nothing to Hizashi.
He’s already turning, opening his mouth to yell to Shouta, when something heavy crashes into him, knocking him a few steps to the side.
The crack of the rock against Shouta’s skull is deafening. The thud of Shouta’s body hitting the ground echoes through every one of Hizashi’s bones.
He screams, too-loud and furious. Whatever projectile had been coming at him is blasted back the way it came as Hizashi charges forward, picking up the villain by Shouta’s capture scarf and slamming him into the ground. I could kill him, Hizashi thinks, his mind worryingly calm. He punches the villain across the face, holding nothing back. He hurt Shouta. Shouta might be dead.
Shouta might be dead. These villains might have killed Shouta, and for what? The few thousand yen they’d been trying to steal? To avoid a few months in jail? Is that all Shouta’s life is worth to this world?
The man goes limp in Hizashi’s grip, unconscious, and Hizashi drops him to the ground like the trash he is. He needs to get back to Shouta.
He skids to his knees beside him, wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull his head up off the ground. There’s a lot of blood in Shouta’s hair, but that’s a good sign, isn’t it? The dead don’t bleed.
“Shouta! Shouta, can you hear me?” Hizashi can’t help reaching out to lay his free hand against Shouta’s cheek, to wipe a smear of blood away from the corner of his mouth.
Shouta’s eyes blink open, dark and clear, and Hizashi knows he’s crying but he doesn’t care. “Thank god. Oh god, Shouta, why did you do that?”
Shouta doesn’t answer, just keeps staring at Hizashi. They have to get to a hospital, right now. “You’re bleeding too much to go over my shoulder,” Hizashi explains, trying to keep his voice steady. He needs to be strong for Shouta. “If I put you on my back, can you hang on?”
Shouta still doesn’t respond, and his eyes are rapidly drifting shut. “Okay,” Hizashi says, because he’ll scream again if he stops talking.“Okay. Okay.”
He eases an arm beneath Shouta’s knees and lifts him off the ground. Shouta groans, like he’s aware of what’s happening and he doesn’t approve. Hizashi hopes that’s the case.
“Shut up,” Hizashi says, feeling his voice start to crack. “You don’t get to complain about anything ever again.” Shouta is very still in his arms. Hizashi holds him a little tighter, just to feel the rise and fall of his breath. “It’s going to be fine,” he says, in case Shouta can hear him. “You’re going to be fine.”
He repeats those phrases all the way to the door of Shouta’s agency, where he orders the receptionist to call an ambulance. Almost as an afterthought, he mentions the two villains, still tied up back at the alley. Once that’s done, he forgets them - they’re not important anymore.
The medics arrive quickly, and Hizashi is left to spectate as they work on Shouta, shining lights in his eyes and strapping him onto a gurney. As he follows them towards the ambulance, one of them turns to him, apologetic but firm. “Unless you’re family, you won’t be able to ride along.”
Unacceptable. Impossible. Hizashi’s whole life is being loaded into that vehicle. He’ll die if he has to watch it drive away.
Before he can say anything, Shouta moves, reaching towards Hizashi and grabbing at his wrist. His grip is like a vise, Hizashi will have bruises. It’s the best thing Hizashi has ever felt. “He says otherwise,” Hizashi glares at the EMT, daring him to challenge Shouta.
The medic looks between them, and his expressions softens. “All right,” he says, stepping aside. “Go ahead.”
Shouta looks very small on the gurney. Hizashi doesn’t try to free his wrist, just brings his other hand up to wrap around Shouta’s. The ride to the hospital is brief, but Hizashi steps out of the ambulance feeling like he’s aged a decade. They have to take Shouta away to work on him, and Hizashi collapses onto the stiff plastic bench in the waiting room, head in his hands.
He sits, completely still, until it occurs to him that Shouta’s blood is all over him. He needs to get cleaned up, so he won’t upset Shouta when he’s allowed in. He strips off his jacket on the way to the bathroom, where he scrubs at his face and hands with the cheap hospital soap, runs his head under the faucet. His hair falls in wet strings around his face, but that’s not important. He needs this night to be over. He needs to see Shouta.
Hours later, when Shouta wakes, confused and irritated, Hizashi is sitting by his bedside. “Don’t ever do that again,” Hizashi says, as he brings a cup of water to Shouta’s lips.
“Don’t be a hypocrite,” Shouta sighs before he takes a sip, and how can Hizashi argue? He’s right. Hizashi would have done the same as Shouta, would step between Shouta and any danger without thought or regret.
“I love you,” he whispers in English, as Shouta’s eyes drift closed again. He needs to say it aloud, this one time. “I love you. I hope you know.”
———
For once, Shouta is a good patient. It’s not something Hizashi would have expected - Shouta hates being injured, especially when his wounds keep him from doing every little thing he wants. But for some reason, this time he listens to Hizashi. He eats the healthy meals Hizashi makes him, takes his pain medication whenever Hizashi brings it to him. Lets Hizashi carry him everywhere.
That last part is not strictly medically necessary. But Hizashi can’t help himself. Shouta almost died, right in front of him. He almost lost Shouta. Is it any wonder he can barely let the man out of his grasp, especially the first few days, when Shouta is still unsteady on his feet?
But it doesn’t end when Shouta regains his equilibrium. Hizashi keeps on with it, carrying Shouta around and doting on him days past when he could manage for himself. Shouta allows it with good grace, but Hizashi knows he’s overstepping, taking advantage of Shouta’s patience with him. Still, it’s a hard thing to help. He’s never carried Shouta in his arms before, and he likes it a little too much. It’s addictive.
It comes to a head one evening, after a quiet dinner and a terrible movie on the couch. It’s dark in their apartment; once the television fades to black, the only light is the glow of a streetlamp shining through the windows.
It’s easy to pretend, in the shadowy quiet of the room, that this is something more than it is. That they are something more than they are. “Come on, Shouta.” Hizashi says, as he reaches out to pull the man he loves into his arms. “Time for bed.”
But instead of the amenable compliance he’s shown for this long, Shouta looks irritated. Angry. “I’m better now,” he says, his voice clipped and harsh. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”
Hizashi freezes. It’s his worst fear realized. He’s pushed too far, been too obvious, and now Shouta knows about Hizashi’s feelings. That Hizashi has betrayed their friendship. After all these years, he knows.
Nothing will save him now, so he may as well admit the truth, just once. This once. He stares at the ground, unable to face Shouta as he confesses. “I know. I’m sorry. I just like it.” It’s all he can make himself say.
Shouta doesn’t answer. Hizashi ought to put him down but he can’t. He can’t bear to open his arms, knowing it might be the last time he’s allowed this. So he just stands there, waiting for the fallout, hoping he hasn’t ruined everything beyond repair.
Slowly, like it might not be permitted, Shouta reaches up with his free arm, wrapping it around Hizashi, turning his hold into an embrace. Then, as Hizashi watches without breathing, he lowers his head against Hizashi’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall closed. The corner of his mouth quirks into a tiny smile, and for once, Shouta looks perfectly content. “Good.”
The apartment is still. Shouta is still. But there’s a maelstrom inside Hizashi, so many feelings and thoughts swirling within him that he thinks he might break apart. He doesn’t know how to do this, what the protocol is for receiving something you desperately, hopelessly want.
He can’t help himself - he tightens his hold, needing to be as close to Shouta as possible - and leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head.
Shouta sighs, like he’s just heard some good news he’s been waiting for. The sound untangles something in Hizashi, a knot so old and familiar he’d forgotten it was there.
It’s enough to set him moving, past the door to Shouta’s bedroom, with its small futon, and straight into his own. He’s not sure what’s going to happen, what either of them wants, but he would very much like to see Shouta in his bed. And Shouta doesn’t say anything, doesn’t seem surprised or unwilling at all.
He puts Shouta down as gently as he’s ever done anything, and stands by the bedside, still and undecided. Shouta’s eyes open, looking up to meet Hizashi’s, and the vulnerability he sees there almost brings him to his knees.
“Stay?” Shouta asks, tentative in a way Hizashi hasn’t heard for many years. It has the same effect on him now that it did then - a desperate need to reassure, to comfort. And maybe this time it’s okay to-
Hizashi leans in, threads his fingers through the dark cloud of Shouta’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp. It wrings a sound out of Shouta, like nothing he’s heard before, something between a groan and a whine, and it takes a long moment for Hizashi to regain his focus, to see that there are tears in Shouta’s eyes.
Terrified he’s misjudged, he pulls his hand back. “Should I-”
“Please.” Shouta grabs Hizashi’s wrist, tugging him forward against the bed, not quite hard enough to tumble over. Giving him an out he doesn’t need or want.
“Yes,” Hizashi says, instantly. He goes to step back, to walk around to the other side of the bed, but Shouta shuffles over before he can, making just enough room that he doesn’t have to. That’s fine with Hizashi. He wants as little distance as possible between him and Shouta right now.
He slips beneath the blankets, lays his head down on the pillow across from Shouta, barely any space between them. Just enough to look each other in the eyes.
“How long?” Hizashi whispers, their legs tangled together beneath the sheets. It’s possibly the happiest he’s ever been. He doesn’t clarify his question, just trusts Shouta to know what he means.
Shouta does. “The whole time. Is that okay?” He still sounds unsure - like the holdup to this thing might be Hizashi. Like Hizashi might be the one to pull back now. It’s so absurd, so Shouta, that he has to smile, even though he’s never felt more serious in his life.
“Me too.” It’s easy to confess now, to run his thumb across Shouta’s stubbled jaw. His reward is beautiful - Shouta’s smile, the sweet one, wide and disbelieving, but happy, so happy that Hizashi feels his eyes wash with tears.
There’s more he wants to say. He wants to tell Shouta everything, how much he’s wanted this, how long, all the things he loves about him, big and small. But this isn’t the moment. Those things can wait. And besides, from the way Shouta reaches forward to press his palm against Hizashi’s chest, over his heart, he has the idea anyway.
———
Hizashi isn’t used to waking up in the sunlight. His alarm goes off before dawn, to give him enough time to get ready for the day, and do one or two chores he won’t feel like dealing with after work. He doesn’t mind, usually. He likes to get things done.
Not this morning though. This morning is for himself. He looks over at the man sleeping beside him, dark hair spread across the pillow, face smooth and relaxed for once. It almost seems a shame to disturb him, but Shouta can sleep anytime. It’s not every day they get to wake up together.
He leans over, pressing a kiss to Shouta’s shoulder. “Morning, handsome.”
“Hizashi?” Shouta’s eyes go from sleep-hooded to wide awake in an instant as he takes in the time. He scrambles into a sitting position. “You’ll be late!”
Hizashi smiles. It’s sweet, how much Shouta cares. “Nope. I called the station last night while I was waiting for you and told them I wouldn’t be in until after noon.”
“Really?” Shouta says, calmer now. He gazes down at Hizashi, almost hesitantly. Hopeful. “Is that okay?”
“You think too much.” Hizashi wraps an arm around Shouta’s waist, pulls him back down against the sheets. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” Shouta’s smiling now, the half-smile Hizashi loves so very much. “Make me breakfast.”
Incensed, Hizashi pushes himself up onto his palms, leaning over Shouta. “It’s my morning off! You make me breakfast!”
Shouta’s smile widens as his eyes blink shut. “Fine. We’re having jelly packets.”
That earns him an eye-roll, not that Shouta can see it. Hopefully it comes through in Hizashi’s tone. “Jelly isn’t breakfast!”
Shouta hums innocently. “It has fruit. That’s breakfast.”
“Why do you always say that? It’s not true at all!”
“Isn’t it? I’m sure I heard it somewhere reliable.” Shouta smirks, like he knows something Hizashi doesn’t. It’s a good look on him, and Hizashi is far from immune. But he stays strong.
“You need a real breakfast, Shouta.”
“Then you need to get up and make it for me,” Shouta says, like he’s just pointing out facts.
“Hmph.” Hizashi rolls away onto his other side and wraps his arms around a spare pillow. “No, I’m comfortable.”
“What an excuse,” Shouta murmurs, very close to Hizashi’s ear. “An excuse that’s never worked on you before.”
“Well maybe if you-” Hizashi never gets to finish that thought. Instead, Shouta rolls straight over him, onto his feet next to the bed, and lifts Hizashi out from under the covers into his arms. It was smooth, and Hizashi is a little impressed, despite himself. He’s not made of stone.
“Hey!” He complains anyway, wrapping his arms around Shouta’s neck. “When I said carry me more often, I didn’t necessarily mean-”
Shouta grins at him. “Too late. I like it now.”
The game is up. Hizashi is powerless against Shouta’s too-wide smile. All he can do is tip his head back, close his eyes, and resign himself to cooking. “I’ve created a monster.”
“You like it too. Admit it.” Shouta jostles Hizashi, startles a laugh out of him. “Confess.”
Hizashi doesn’t, just turns his face inward, smiling into Shouta’s chest. He doesn’t have to say it. Shouta knows.