Archive of Our Own

Hizashi distinctly remembered the day he fell in love with Aizawa Shouta. It was hard to forget days that changed your future so drastically.

The two had been studying for an english exam that was going to happen at the end of the week. Shouta had vocalized that Hizashi was a last ditch effort, and he had laughed it off, knowing that his stoic friend was trying to say that he didn’t mind studying with him. After all, Hizashi had the leading english grades in UA class 3-A, so even if Iida hadn’t needed to take care of his infant brother and had helped Aizawa study, they’d have likely ended up together anyways.

Aizawa was a quiet listener, learning best by remembering facts and then applying them. His eyes were always dry, and he found it hard to keep them open long enough to read anything and commit it to memory. Whenever Hizashi tried to make cute flash cards or spunky mnemonics for grammar rules, Aizawa’s attention quickly faded.

Hizashi was an audio visual learner, succeeding when he could take concepts and interact with their physical forms. He had tried to study with Aizawa in the past using the other’s form of learning, but the constant deafening tinnitus in his ears jammed up his mental capacities every time it was quiet enough for Aizawa to actually concentrate.

And yet the two worked well together. Hizashi would ramble on and on about one thing or another while Aizawa listened. Aizawa could then formulate his own questions and tests on the subject from what he had heard to test his comprehension. By answering them using his mnemonics and tools, Hizashi was able to take what he had casually helped Aizawa learn and solidify the knowledge for himself. They were an odd duo, but none of their friends and teachers dared question such a powerful couple.

At the thought of calling the two of them a couple, Hizashi’s face lit up bright red, and choked on his own tongue. Coughing violently, his train of thought was cut short as he hacked up a lung.

Aizawa lazily got up, gently pushing the three blankets off of him, and gave Hizashi a bored but concerned glance. Hizashi just smiled through his coughing, giving his friend two thumbs up. Aizawa just nodded, satisfied his friend wasn’t actually choking, and settled back down.

As his coughing trailed off, he looked back over at Aizawa and realized he was fucked.

The mess of black hair was strewn around the pillow, soft black eyes unfocused but deep in thought. The blankets perfectly framed the angles of his face while giving off a comforting, homey aura. Hizashi had the sudden urge to crawl over to the insomniac and cuddle.

He blanched at the thought and started to cough in surprise all over again.

Though they stayed in contact in the years after high school, the two didn’t meet up again for another six years. Hizashi was rapidly becoming a high profile celebrity while Aizawa remained an anonymous nobody with a secret hero life. Hizashi didn’t think he’d ever understand his best friend’s take on the life of a hero, but as long as he was happy, Hizashi would do anything to keep it that way.

In the years since he realized he was incredibly gay for his best friend, he had hoped his crush would fizzle out and he could simply move on. Of course that meant it worsened until Hizashi found himself dreaming of domestic chores and sighing wistfully. It was maddeningly disgusting, but it was exactly what he was missing.

He was rich and famous, he had followers on every platform and the world knew his name, for both his music tastes and his heroic deeds. He met with singers, dined with actors, once he was even the guest of honor at the prime minister’s daughter’s twenty first birthday! But he still couldn’t chase the dark haired grump from his mind, no matter how many fans were willing to fling themselves at him.

They texted each other almost daily, and more often than not, managed to fit in a call once or twice a week. Hizashi’s style had grown more and more outlandish as he gained notoriety, while Aizawa seemed to graduate from a few blankets to professional hiking sleeping bag. One’s hair was styled for half an hour in the morning while the other’s was lucky to see a brush once a week.

Still, Hizashi knew that if was anything like it had been when they were high school boys, it was softer than Hizashi could ever hope to make his own. And the sleeping bag would be warm and cozy, since Aizawa shot for utility and not aesthetic. A perfect place to cuddle and fall asleep in.

Gently clapping his hands to his cheeks, he set out for the day. It was a saturday, and his radio station only needed his music choices, and not his actual voice, so he was allowed to simply go out and do as he pleased.

He still worked out regularly, ate healthy, lived well, but saturdays were his off days. The days when he was neither a radio sensation nor a modern day hero. They were days where he could put his hair into a sloppy bun, slip into his most comfortable skinny jeans, and treat himself to a pastry or seven at his favourite cafe.

What he hadn’t expected to treat himself to, was the dark figure sitting next to his usual spot. His eye bags were longer than Hizashi’s hair, and his figure more hunched than the branches of a weeping willow. Hizashi instantly perked up, “Shouta?!”

When the man minutely startled at the familiar voice, Hizashi bolted from the ordering line and crashed into the man with open arms, “Shouta! It’s been so long! How’re you doing, and how long have you been coming here?! You need to try their poppy seed muffins, I know you’ve never been into western pastries, but the couple who runs this place is french, and they are the absolute best!” He let himself ramble on and on and on, not even aware he had sat down across from Aizawa without anything to eat.

It turned out that Aizawa’s agency had relocated to Musutafu after their old base of operations had taken damage from a villain attack. They had already had branch in Musutafu, and it became the main building. Aizawa only listened in, though, and never interrupted. He was a quiet man who wouldn’t have many words to say in the first place, but if the constant talking was annoying him, he was also a man who didn’t stand for annoyances. But Aizawa had been thoroughly engaged in the conversation, eyebrows raised and nodding along easily.

They met at the cafe regularly after that, sometimes even inviting each other out from there, to watch movies or do other various civilian activities. Hizashi felt like his heart would burst from want, but he was happy this way, so he’d take what he could get.

He hadn’t believed it before, when his mother had told him the human mind remembered trauma easier than it did good memories. She spoke of his birth, how overjoyed they had been, despite the deafening cries of the baby that destroyed the hearing of everyone in the room.

It was a good trauma, but a trauma nonetheless.

But he still didn’t believe her until he had been that close to losing Aizawa for good.

It was only shortly after Aizawa’s 25’s birthday, the chill of winter approaching quickly. The weather generally caused a decrease in outside villainy, and combat inside buildings was one of Hizashi’s least favourite things. His quirk was volatile and destructive, he couldn’t let loose and not expect the integrity of the building to be compromised. There were people in the building, and he couldn’t bear the thought of deafening more people, so the frequency of his attacks had to be limited.

Internal battle was not a friend to Yamada Hizashi, even if he was not an outside man.

Yet he still found himself weaving through the hallways trying his best to catch up to the bank robber that had so far managed to out weave him. These types of jobs were normally handled by whoever was in the area, but this robber had been the culprit behind such a wide array of crimes with such a wild variation of motives and ability. A team of specially designated pros was called in.

Present Mic was there to combat their supposed leader, whose voice could reach select individuals as they pleased, no matter how far. Eraserhead was brought along to nullify the most dangerous quirk amongst the villains, a young man who could steal your life if he touched you with both hands. He didn't necessarily even have to give it back.

Eraserhead was the prime fighter of their graduating class, placing in all three of the UA Sports Festivals he was in. In his second year, he even won first place. He had given lessons to those who asked, harsh and brutal beatings that never seemed to be a fair fight, but every single person came out a better fighter and hero. No one even considered that he’d lose to a boy who was barely out of his teens.

Hizashi didn't even consider the possibility when he entered the room to see Eraserhead on the flood, cold and unmoving, the villain standing over him smugly.

It wasn't until after Hizashi had finally subdued the villain that they learned what had happened.

The villain was only able to hold one life at once, aside from his own, and he couldn't kill by just holding their life. That was why he had been forced to fight Present Mic quirkless. But if he kept the soul out of the body for more than an hour, it gave out, and the body died, so he could release the soul, finally killing the person.

Present Mic took in the information, and noted how he and Eraserhead had split up almost 50 minutes ago.

Panic started to set in when he realized that Aizawa wasn't moving, and if they didn't act fast, he'd never move again.

They tried everything, Hizashi’s quirk, Recovery Girl’s healing, knocking out the villain, Aizawa remained impassive and motionless on the cot.

Hizashi had never cried so hard in his life before. At less than three minutes until he lost his best friend and love of his life, he began to beg, quirk unregulated and voice rocking the foundation of the building. He sobbed and pleaded with him, demanding that he get up and say it was all a sick joke. He shook Hizashi as hard as he could, voice eventually giving out under the stress.

If his friends hadn't known how in love with Aizawa he was before, they certainly knew now. Kayama and the up and coming hero Ishiyama stood awkwardly off to the side, neither knowing what to say or how to comfort Hizashi. All Might was drilling the villain as hard as he could, and if he hadn’t known how serious All Might could be, having relocated all the way over from America just to catch this villain, he would be downright terrified of him now. Nezu was frantically working with a few investigators for some last ditch attempts at waking up Aizawa, but there wasn't the usual light in his eyes, and Hizashi could tell he was losing hope. Recovery Girl and one of her interns were checking over the soon to be corpse, and the thought of how methodically they treated Aizawa made him sick to his stomach.

There had been only a few second left when the villain had laughed and released his quirk, Aizawa sitting up with a pained gasp before fainting again. This time it was a much more restful sleep. He woke up from it three hours later. None of them had slept through those hours.

Hizashi had never felt like a villain more after that.

He had promptly gotten up and marched over to the almost murderer. Before they could finish their thought, hysterical over how hilarious everyone's reactions had been, Hizashi had crushed his nose under his fist, and screamed as loud as he could. All Might had the sense to cover his ears and run, but the villain, handcuffed to the table, was forced to endure it all. His ears bled as Hizashi tore his heart out in front of him, his sense of hearing eventually settling into a comfortable numbness and never recovering.

The police did eventually have to drag him out, and he did face charges for reckless quirk usage in a non heroic fashion, but they had been reluctant, understanding the near heartbreak they were witnessing and moving more out of civil responsibility instead of sympathy. Hizashi was more than happy to shell out pocket change for the inmate’s ‘psychological trauma counseling from hearing loss and battery.’

He hadn't been the one who had almost lost his entire world, and Hizashi was never going to let that happen again.

Aizawa never brought up the incident after that, so Hizashi just let it settle. It had been a low moment, where he had felt less like a hero and more like selfish citizen. They knew each other well, and Hizashi figured that since there was no reprimand, there was no harm done.

He wasn't even really sure if Aizawa knew of the attack. He had be out for the entire thing and whether or not he had been told after was a mystery. Hizashi was quite sure that he would have been able to pick up any doubt or uncertainties in his actions, and the joy and enthusiasm he had shown when Hizashi got the job at their Alma mater proved that nothing about his attitude towards Hizashi had changed.

At least, it was Aizawa Shouta brand enthusiasm and joy, which meant a slight smile and a little less complaining.

It had made Hizashi’s day.

They continued to meet up after that, their cafe meets going from occasional occurrence to weekly outings, with breaks on the weekends. It was Aizawa’s last hurrah before a long day of earned sleep, finishing up his underground hero work and ending the night at a quiet little cafe with his best friend right as it opened. It was Hizashi’s oasis of solace that he used to prepare his lessons for his first year of teaching and being the youngest teacher in UA at only 25 years old. He spent precious time with his crush before his hectic day of life-saving and inspiring the masses.

Both of them enjoyed their time together, and Hizashi couldn't have asked for a better way to lead his life.

They continued after the school year started, Hizashi never tiring of telling Aizawa the story of his students faces when they realized their new English teacher was a celebrity and radio personality, someone each one of them had grown up listening to. Aizawa, in turn, gave Hizashi stories of his life, though he never understood what the hot shot found so entrancing about his plain days.

Hizashi would never say it out loud, though he suspected Aizawa knew, but he loved listening to Aizawa just as much as he loved talking. Hearing his stories of his two cats and how they got into more trouble than Hizashi’s entire class combined, letting himself soak in the words about his co-workers and their messy lives, it was therapeutic to Hizashi. He just kept falling more and more in love with the man across from him, and he only prayed that he wasn't nearly as obvious as he thought had was.

It, of course, turned out he must have been. For the first time in three years, Aizawa did not show up for their usual breakfast meetup. Hizashi chalked it up to a busy night of villainy, but when he checked with his agency for the day, there had been no news of underground criminals being caught or brought in.

It was worrying, but Hizashi fancied himself a reasonable man, and let it go. Aizawa couldn't be expected to dedicate his entire life to Hizashi, no matter how much the other man was willing to do it for him.

It was the second day in a row that he was missing that his heart jumped to conclusions and he felt his chest ache. Just three days previous, Hizashi had found himself smiling like an idiot at Aizawa, face soft and blushed as he beheld the most important thing in the world to him. Aizawa had been telling him about a litter of kittens he had encountered earlier, which had was going to bring to a shelter after breakfast, pausing every now and then for what he assumed to be dramatic effect.

It was only three days later, while Hizashi found himself sitting alone longing for company that clearly didn't long for him, that he realized that Aizawa must have been pausing to regard him and the stupidly obvious look on his face. Aizawa was a man of few words, he would have simply left a situation he was uncomfortable with instead of initiation confrontation.

That idea made Hizashi’s eyes water and he left the cafe before ordering anything at all.

That day of work was miserable. The students were more obnoxious than usual, no one listened to him, and he hadn't had any caffeine, so he was practically a dead man walking, apparent even through his usual mask of energy.

During his lunch break, Kayama, who had started working there the year after Hizashi, sat down with him and asked him why he was so miserable, and he only cried. Some of the other teachers in the faculty lounge were startled to see such a personal side to the ever popular Present Mic but they were all heroes as well, and knew that he was only human.

Kayama insisted she went and showed Aizawa a thing or two about tact, which almost made Hizashi laugh, but he just waved her off and begged her not to make a big deal out of it. She agreed, but based on how her eyes lingered on his puffy red eyelids, she wasn't entirely convinced.

He canceled his remaining class for the day and went home.

He’d never really been in love before, and he didn't know how to stop his chest from hurting so much. He had binged his favourite comedies, eaten an entire package of mochi ice cream on a non cheat day, and let himself sob into his pillows, but nothing helped.

He’d certainly been rejected before, and was no stranger to the disappointment it brought, but the hole in his chest was new. He had resigned himself to the fact that Aizawa would never love him quite the way he loved Aizawa and though that had been an entire ordeal in itself, he had gotten over it. He had accepted that Aizawa’s happiness would not be with him, but as long as he was happy, Hizashi would be okay.

To be outright rejected without even asking anything had hurt more than he had expected. He wanted to talk to Aizawa and beg him to come back, beg him to believe that he was okay with just being friends, and he could forget all about his stupid one sided love, but he wasn't picking up, and wasn't reading his texts.

He agonized over every little detail in his head, analyzing where he had been too obvious and disgustingly hopeful in his actions. He remembered every little glance he had sent to Aizawa, every little weakness and display of too much affection. He spent the entire next day calling in sick from all three of his jobs, and let himself wallow in misery. It wasn't often, or ever, that he let himself relax, but now he wished that he had the energy to work himself to the bone, and just forget.

He didn't keep any alcohol in his house, and only drank socially, but he was beginning to regret that, not for the first time. So instead of drinking himself into a stupor, Hizashi went to sleep early that day, postponing his weekly radio show for the first time in his career.

He didn't head to the cafe the next morning.

It hadn't even been a week before Aizawa called him. And Aizawa never called him, preferring to communicate via soft silences and monosyllabic texts that conveyed more than a novel ever could. He knew he’d only cry if he picked up the phone, and he didn't think he could handle anything that Aizawa said, no matter what it was. Aizawa was a quiet man, but he had a way with words that Hizashi envied.

He let himself wax poetic over how subtle yet deep Aizawa was while he distracted himself from picking up the phone. He had only cut out early the day of the rejection and skipped the next day because he didn't feel he could teach well, and forced himself up to work two days after Aizawa hurt him. He tossed his phone to the side, letting it slide into the magnetic charging dock, before hauling his bag over his shoulder and leaving for the school day.

It was an official Present Mic endorsed brand, and was emblazoned with two embroidered letters, PM, electric yellow and punk to a fault. It was cheesy to use his own merchandise, but it made him feel better after having his heart unapologetically and unexpectedly crushed.

Despite that, he knew he still dreamed of cuddling close to Aizawa and his cozy sleeping bag, still found himself distracted thinking about running his hands through Aizawa’s soft hair. He had never gotten to braid it, and as he rode down the sub to UA High, he was glad his sunglasses were reflective, or the public might see the tear silently rolling down his cheek. He subtly reached up and brushed it away, even though he knew there were always paparazzi breathing his air and someone would catch his actions on camera.

Still, he wasn't quite ready for the news story that had hit the front gossip pages by the time he had settled into his first class. The pitying stares of the students was enough to set him off, and he knew that he was powerless as it confirmed the story to be true.

He didn't dare ask what it was, since he knew that Kayama would dig her claws into him during the lunch period anyways.

And damn was he right that she dug right in. Tossing down a physical copy of the story right under his nose, she sighed, “Hizashi, you’re letting yourself go! This isn’t the Present Mic we all know and love, endlessly positive and elevating…”

The picture on the front page of the tabloid was him on the subway, a disgustingly high definition inset of the tear rolling down his cheek. He grumbled to himself as he turned to the article, the entire page filled with clips of him on the train and speculation towards the case. The headline was obvious enough about the contents of the article, however, and Hizashi didn't dare read any more.

HEROIC HEARTBREAK? WAS HIZASHI YAMADA, AKA PRESENT MIC, CONCEALING A ROMANTIC SIDE PIECE AWAY FROM PUBLIC VIEW?

Hizashi huffed as he tossed the papers to the ground, “Oi, it was just one tear…! They can draw any conclusion they like, it won't stop my listeners from loving me!” He aggressively shoved another shrimp chip in his mouth, doing his best to indicate he wasn't willing to talk, but Kayama wasn't just anyone and she wasn't deterred by Hizashi’s pouting.

“Yeah, so should I be the one to tell your designer that they messed up your order of trademark smiles? Or did you just purposely put it on crooked and upside-down?” Her voice had taken on an upsettingly insistent tone, and when she sat down across from him, helping herself to his shrimp chips, he knew this conversation wasn't going away. “Look, I’ve never seen you so down, and we both know this isn't about the media drawing its conclusions. Hell, with the amount of fake romances they've put me in over the past two years, you’d think I’m the one who has the right to act like her name’s been dragged through shit. And yet you’re sitting across from me sporting a new look that even you aren't pulling off, so spill.”

When Hizashi looked up, Kayama was obviously irked that he'd kept something secret between them, but was also clearly distraught that her partner in crime (heroics?) was hurting so much. Hizashi sighed again and quickly snatched the last shrimp chip before Kayama could get it, “Oh, you know, the usual.” It was a subtle code between them they had started to talk about Hizashi’s glaringly obvious infatuation with their mutual friend, but it stuck with them into the workplace.

“None of that is-”

“He called me earlier… He never calls anyone…” He looked away at the last bit, knowing full well that Kayama was familiar enough to know about Aizawa’s phone habits. When he looked back, Kayama’s face had taken on a darker tone and she narrowed her eyes, “What’d he say, cause don't think I won’t teach him a lesson or two if he think he can just brush you off, cut contact, and act like nothing happened.”

Hizashi shook his head, “Wouldn't know, didn't answer.” He shrugged, doing his best to appear nonchalant, but he knew it must have failed spectacularly.

Kayama only nodded and stuck out her hand, “Gimme your phone, I’ll listen to the voice mail, and I’m sure we can decide from there.”

Hizashi looked away, “Don't have it with me either, I'm letting it charge at home. But really, it'll be fine! You don't need to interfere. We both know that I can bounce back from anything, this'll be no different.” Both of them knew that as a popular celebrity, Hizashi brought his phone everywhere he went, but that didn't stop the grossly apparent lie from slipping through shining teeth. His glamours were back on, and his smile was radiant. It was obviously forced, and wavered momentarily, but Kayama bit her lip momentarily, before relenting, “Alright, fine… But you’re my friend over him, especially if he hurt you like this. To just turn you away without even hearing you out? That’s just unnecessarily cruel, which is something, coming from me. I want to see both of you happy, and this isn't getting either of you there…”

Hizashi knew that he should have done better to dissuade her from agitating the situation further, but he was just as weak to her as he was to Aizawa, and even if he didn't love her, he didn't want to hurt her either.

He had decided to plot out the radio show’s schedule previous to the actual show before he had even gotten home. His last show was riddled with songs blasting depressing break up messages, and anyone with half a brain could deduce he was heartbroken even without the tabloids to fill him in.

It was disgustingly uncharacteristic of him, and he resolved himself to pulling his act together before tomorrow night, where he promised he’d host the best show he’d ever hosted before.

He got himself pumped up, practically forgetting about his broken heart, as he shifted through his company’s collection of music. A handful was his own, but he only wrote as a hobby, and released all his music for free. He was a huge hit with his own fanbase, and the messages he told were a good starting point to renew himself from the week before. Plucking out a few songs, he piled the tapes on a desk before his secretary and favourite sidekick came in. He had the ability to echolocate, sporting bat like wings and ears, and combined with Hizashi, nothing escaped the powerful duo.

“Um, Mic sir? There's some weirdo asking to see you. I’d say he's a delusional fan, but it's up to you.”

Hizashi froze, and the secretary noticed, “Ah, sorry sir, I'll tell him to come back another time…? Or… not at all?” Bless his sweet sidekick, he was lucky to have found such a wonderful human being who wanted to stay his sidekick and not go big. Hizashi only laughed, though both could hear how strained it was, “Aha!! No, no, Present Mic appreciates all of his fans, even the odd ones! Tell him I'll meet him in a second, send him to my office.”

The secretary was hesitant, but nodded as they headed back to the elevator. Hizashi waited until they were out of eyesight before letting a choked sob escape him.

He wasn't ready for this conversation, not now, not ever. If Aizawa didn't want him, he’d live and maybe he’d live the rest of his life longing and heartbroken, but more importantly, he'd live.

He closed his eyes and pushed the door to the stairs open.

He'd take any delay he could at this point.

“Aizawa!!” He didn't miss Aizawa’s subtle cringe as he brushed over first name usage, unsure if that made him sad or angry. “How's it been? You’re never up around this time, hero work finish early for you last night?”

Aizawa was sitting across from him, an extravagant and exciting desk between them. Leave it to Hizashi to spare no expense in his office, the decorations matching his personality like a mirror image. He opened his mouth to reply, but when he faltered, Hizashi knew that his self pity had withered and been replaced by indignation, “Ah, sorry for not answering my phone earlier, it was dead, so I let it charge at home during the school day! After all, can’t do my duties as a celebrity and hero without it, but I certainly don't need it while teaching.”

Aizawa didn't miss the snide attack behind his words, and didn't try to hide his cringe this time around. He knew as well as Kayama did how important Hizashi’s phone was to him, and that he’d never let it simply die overnight. And the two had always kept contact during the school day previous to their spat, so saying he didn't need his phone during the school day spoke less of the item and more of its uses. Aizawa had the decency to look ashamed of himself, and despite the sickening pleasure Hizashi felt, he also knew that every dagger he threw only drove his happiness away from him.

Aizawa idly played with his scarf as he talked to the floor, voice the same rich tenor as it had been before, “I… I know I fucked up…”

“Really! What gave you that impression? If I had to ask anyone else, I’ve been doing quite peachy! I’ve even got a mind blowing show to prepare for my fans, being fucked up certainly wouldn't lend well to that. Don’t you think?” Once again Hizashi words cut deep into Aizawa, the rhetorical question digging both of them deeper. Hizashi was about to continue but Aizawa cut him off by looking directly and deeply into his eyes. He’d never been so direct with Hizashi before, and it caught him off guard.

“Hizashi, please… I’m… I’m trying, I’ve never done something like this before.”

Aizawa’s voice was so uncharacteristically tender and vulnerable, Hizashi found himself unable to respond. He was still angry, and heartbroken, and wanted to make Aizawa know exactly what he had done. But the logical part of him held his tongue down, telling him not to hurt Aizawa in return.

He may have had his heart torn, but Aizawa didn't deserve to be hurt in return. As much as it hurt to say, Hizashi loved him too much to do that.

“I know I fucked up, I shouldn’t have just run from you… And saying I was scared, that I am scared, that's a bullshit excuse. I’m… I’m so sorry that I just left you hanging, even though I know you never asked anything… I should have talked to you, I should have asked what those looks really meant… And-”

“You were right. Give credit where credit is due, you’re a smart man Shouta.” Hizashi couldn't take the long winded apology that Aizawa had undoubtedly prepared for Hizashi’s benefit. And he almost let himself find comfort in practical sacrifice Aizawa made to make his apology, but if all it was going to conclude with the two separating paths he didn’t want to drag out his own pain, “But if you’re just here for formalities, I’d much rather continue my work. It was hard enough to convince myself to meet right now, and I don’t need another repeat of last week’s show.” He couldn’t bring himself to tack on a curt goodbye, no matter how much he wanted to.

Aizawa only stared at Hizashi unblinkingly. He nodded slowly, slower than normal for him, and pursed his lips. After a hesitant breath, he continued, “I’m not here for formalities, I’m not just here to apologize. Like you said, last week’s show was upsetting-” Hizashi tried to interrupt indignantly, but Aizawa pushed on, “-and hearing your itinerary for the night was depressing-” Hizashi supposed he signed up for this when he fell in love with such a blunt man, “-but that’s just it. I never meant to do that to you, the tabloid, the phone, the show… I fucked up and I acted without thinking how it would affect you. You’re so careful around the media, you never give them material to work with. But after our last breakfast, and it all just fell apart... I… If it’s really like what you say, then… I didn’t mean that I was rejecting you, when I didn’t show up…”

He wasn’t being rejected. That’s all that really registered in Hizashi’s mind.

Aizawa Shouta, the love of his life, hadn’t rejected him. Projecting a confused, upset look, Aizawa swallowed, “I’m an underground hero, I’m not versed in how to be with people… I’ve never dated anyone before, it just… Never really happened and I never really needed it, and when I realized how I felt, I just reacted and I was scared. I was an idiot.”

Aizawa stopped, and there was so much left unsaid that Hizashi wanted to scream for him to continue, tell him exactly what he meant. But they had been friends for years, and Hizashi knew no more was coming.

And that was okay too. Between then, everything left unsaid was simply acknowledged by both parties, and they knew what the other meant.

Hizashi hesitantly put out his hand, gingerly laying it in Aizawa’s.

Shouta responded by closing his, his rough, scarred fingers fitting perfectly with Hizashi’s lithe and talented ones.

That year, Principal Nezu extended a teaching invitation to Erasing Hero Eraserhead. The third homeroom teacher for the A Hero Class was retiring, and the spot was open to someone of similar talents.

That spot was quickly filled by Shouta.

There had been an awkward conversation with the bear-mouse-dog, but he had ultimately been unconcerned with the blossoming relationship between the two young men. Both were trustworthy, high ranking heroes, and even if 27 years old was a time of learning and mistakes, both had shown themselves to be capable and responsible. He also assured both that he would take the secret of their relationship to the grave until the two opened up about it. They were thankful, Hizashi for avoiding the scandal, Shouta for avoiding the limelight.

They took class 3-A by storm, which was the homeroom Souta presided over.

Their dynamic hadn’t changed much from best friends to boyfriends, only really throwing in physical affection and proximity along with everything else. What energy Shouta couldn’t handle in the classroom, Hizashi absorbed with gusto, and when student were quiet and subtle, Shouta took the problem and nurtured it in his own insistent way. Their class bloomed above everyone else in all of UA, grades and performance exemplary.

That was the beginning of the reign of A class of the heroics department.

With the school fame increasing, the media ate up the staff of UA, contributing the livelihood to resident celebrity Present Mic. He loved the attention, while shielding Shouta from unwanted eyes. Kayama became an idol of sexual appeal and beauty, Ishiyama, who had joined the year after Aizawa, a pillar of strength and balance. Their first class that graduated together instantly skyrocketed to fame, stars like Takeyama Yuu having grown from the guidance of Shouta and Hizashi. They were well loved by all their students, and though it had never been announced, everyone could see that the two shared a close bond.

During his first year of teaching, Hizashi decided that the two should move in together. One was rich and the other had no financial troubles, but it was a point they both readily agreed upon. Hizashi’s penthouse was decided upon, the richer of the two obviously having the nicer living space. Aizawa didn’t take up much room, and they seamlessly blended into each other’s lives.

They had known each other for thirteen years, and had been dating for two of them, when Hizashi proposed.

Shouta had been hesitant at first, which terrified Hizashi, but was quick to reassure Hizashi he loved the man very much, he just didn’t want the public eye looking at his every action. Hizashi understood, as Shouta had wanted to avoid fame as long as he had known him. He still accepted the ring with a soft face of adoration.

The rings were thin black bands of titanium. The couple’s characters were engraved on the inside of each ring, and on the outside were three diamonds on that ran along ring horizontally. They were separated by the black of the titanium, the delicate swirl of the barrier artistic and fluid.

If Hizashi had ever been unsure if he loved the man who put the ring on his finger, he was more of a fool than he had thought.

It was nights like these, when Hizashi was wide awake after returning from his radio show and Shouta was lazily grading student’s papers that he reflected on the path his life had taken to lead him to this paradise.

Tossing his jacket on the couch after he announced his presence, he slumped down into Shouta’s arms and sighed, “My number one fan… My faithful fiance and love of my life… Shouta, darling, I’m too tired to cook…” Both of the knew it was a lie, Hizashi was also hyperactive after his show and Shouta was the one who was eternally exhausted, but Shouta still huffed in amusement and clicked on the stove, “Your choice between tonkatsu or some leftover salmon from last night. Rice is on the second shelf down. Don’t touch the melonpan or you’re sleeping on Tamachi’s bed.”

Tamachi was their cat who, to both of their chagrin, prefered Hizashi to Shouta. He was threatened with getting kicked out of bed almost weekly, but it never happened. Hizashi knew his fiance slept much too soundly while clinging to him to kick him out. It didn’t stop Hizashi from being careful though.

Shouta was his fiance, and he loved him more than anything in the world, but Shouta was also a wrathful man, and even those closest to his heart had every right to fear for their lives if they incurred his anger.

So Hizashi only stared longingly at the melonpan as he grabbed the salmon and rice. He stacked some vegetables on the other tupperware containers, grabbed the half empty bottle of sake, and haphazardly dumped everything on the counter. Shouta simply raised an eyebrow at the bottle of sake, before grabbing the food and cracking the containers open. Hizashi meandered to the table, collapsing onto a chair and groaning, his head resting in his arms, “Never let me take the night shift on fridays, ever again. Shoucchan, I think my feet are bleeding.” Shouta only grunted from the stove and Hizashi chuckled, “Yes love, I wore my insoles.”

Shouta didn’t say any more, but he could tell from the lively clinking of utensils and pans that he was satisfied with the answer. A few minutes later a fragrant plate was pushed in front of him and he heard the creak of the other chair as Shouta sat down. Hizashi only shifted over a bit, leaning on Shouta’s side, “Shoucchan, I’m too tired to eat, feed me…-hmph!”

His whine was cut off as a spoonful of rice was shoved into his mouth. He laughed, grains of rice spilling everywhere, and Shouta rolled his eyes, “That better be enough to feed yourself, I still have papers to grade because Nemuri got sick…” His grumble was cut off at the end, and Hizashi snickered as he pushed himself up, taking a quick bite of salmon. He’d never let the media know, but he was a terrible cook, and he didn’t know what he’d do if Shouta didn’t keep him fed.

Logically he would simply hire a fantastic dietician and five star chef, but that just seemed a ridiculous idea when he could give his boyfriend a hug, promise a blowjob, and get a homemade plate of decadent food in return.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you Shoucchan, I’ve got papers to grade too. It should go smoothly though, Togata seems to grasp english as a second language easily enough, and the two that follow him around take after that. A little too much All Might idolization if you ask me, but I’m sure they’ll all make promising third years.” He giggled at the thought, and Shouta just groaned, “Don’t tell me… I don’t want to think of next year…”

As the year drew to a close, Nezu had made it clear that All Might would be joining the A class teachers next year. Both Shouta and Hizashi respected the man, as did the rest of the world, but Hizashi knew that Shouta could only take so many loud rambunctious people, and between his students and Hizashi, Shouta was at maximum capacity.

There was no room for All Might in his little world of subdued energy.

Hizashi finished up his dinner, pushing the plate to the side, and rummaged through his side bag. The bag he used to use, branded with his hero initials, was now owned by Shouta, who used it everywhere. There was no Eraserhead merch for him to use in return, but that was fine by him, opting to use a simple black messenger bag in its place. It served its purpose, and still worked with all of Hizashi’s clothing.

Not to mention, the style reminded him of Shouta, so he was able to take a little piece of his fiance where he went.

Of course, they both wore their engagement rings, the black bands following them everywhere except the battlefield, but Hizashi’s was fitted snug under his gloves, and Shouta’s hung from a chain around his neck, obscured by the weapon he wore. They weren’t ashamed of each other, Hizashi wanting desperately to show off his boyfriend and fiance to the world, but Shouta wasn’t ready for the public eye, and if that meant the two had to have a private marriage years down the line before settling down after retiring from hero work, Hizashi was more than satisfied to wait. But the hidden nature of their relationship wasn’t Hizashi’s prefered style of living.

Hizashi just grinned as he set down the essays he was grading in front of him. True to predictions, Togata’s paper was practically perfect in every way, Amajiki’s and Hadou’s papers in similar states. A few papers had mistakes, and one almost failed entirely, but he shrugged it off. That specific student was terrible at language skills. Taking only a little more than an hour to grade the 18 papers, he sighed, “Shoucchan, why did you have to expel Ejiri…? He actually lived in America for three years, his english would have been much easier to grade than Akashi… I can barely read her characters let alone grade the essay…”

He received only an eyeroll in response, “If you hadn’t been so busy with your two other jobs and english paper, you’d have seen that Ejiri was only there because his parents were influential. He had no desire to be a hero, and was hardly disappointed when I told him to scram. If I hadn’t, some villain would have, and then we’d have had a mess to deal with instead of upset parents.”

Hizashi shrugged in reply. He never paid much attention to the specific details of a student’s potential, gauging their academic lives on grades alone. The hero studies and homeroom teachers kept a much better eye on that, actually seeing their growth as a hero. While he had no objections to the actual action, he had only wished that the students who remained knew how to study and learn. Tossing aside the paper, the only one that was ungraded, he clapped his hands together loudly, “Well, I am headed to bed! I know it’s been a long and stressful day, and I need my rest before a full day of hero activity!” He shot a meaningful glance at Aizawa, “Shouta~...” and sauntered into their bedroom.

Shouta rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what the other wanted. He also had papers to grade, but tomorrow was a saturday, and Eraserhead was a night time hero. Following his fiance he unbuckled his belt and slowly slid his jeans down.

Shouta had traded in his sleeping bag for once and was leaning against Hizashi in the staff room. Technically he had no more classes for the day, and their apartment was barely a five minute walk away, but between sleeping alone in their apartment and sleeping curled up against his fiance, Hizashi figured he’d have made the same choice.

Shouta had opted out of the orientation to give his students a test drive with their quirks, and he already had a mess on his hands. Midoriya Izuku, who injured himself every time he used his quirk. Bakugo Katsuki, who acted more like a villain when he was around Midoriya. Mineta Minoru, who couldn’t keep anything in his pants. Jirou Kyouka, who took more pleasure in antagonizing the electric blond Kaminari than she did training to be a hero.

His hands were full and Hizashi could only hold him while he lamented.

It had all started with the arrival of All Might. His actual arrival hadn’t been much of a show, but he was soon on the news, once again, saving two boys from a villain made of slime. One of them could produce explosions from his hands while the other boy’s quirk wasn’t shown at all.

Then the two boys had both shown up at the entrance exams, seeming to know each other from long before they were on the news. Each one scored exceptionally well on the written portions, grades ranking among even the rich and elite of Japan. The explosions kid had rocked his opponents by destroying bot after bot, while the mystery kid practically sacrificed his entire life to save a single girl, like he had when saving the explosive boy. As recovery girl healed him, he took note of how much damage his quirk had done to his body, and momentarily praised his decision not to use it while facing an actual villain if it completely immobilized him afterwards.

He pitied the teacher who had to deal with them, which ended up being him.

And he didn’t feel like throwing himself a pity party, so he simply curled up in Hizashi’s arms and grumbled about his misfortune.

“Zashicchi, tell me I’m not gonna regret keeping both of them in class and not expelling either of them… I can’t even turn around without one trying to kill the other, and Midoriya is usually the victim.”

Hizashi snorted at his boyfriend’s whine, “Of course not! They’re smart, powerful, and they both have so much conviction! Especially that Midoriya, he turns out to be an avid listener of mine! Impeccable taste!” He cackled as Shouta whacked him, “Abuse! Abuse I say, there’s a villain attacking me, police!”

Shouta just growled some more, “You’re not a very comfortable pillow when you squirm.” He instantly lit up bright red when Hizashi breathed in his ear, “Oh but you like it when I squirm.” He did actually put force behind his punch this time, the red mark is left behind on Hizashi’s shoulder proof of his immaturity, “Hizashi, we’re teachers at school, save it for later.”

He ignored the look Hizashi gave him and got up. He was going to have to figure out how to deal with such a rambunctious class, and had sat down to do so, but was interrupted by All Might’s arrival, lacking its usual flair. Shouta just raised an eyebrow at Hizashi, while the later leaned over and gave All Might a pointed look, “And what news do you bring of our wonderful class? I’ll assume that each one of my young fans is still alive?”

All Might just sighed exasperatedly, “Yes, but that Bakugo…! He’s really going to hurt Midoriya one of these days, and I’m not sure how we can get him to stop before it’s too late!” He shifted back into his emaciated form, something the teachers were still getting used to, and slumped into the chair next to the coffee machine.

This All Might, Yagi Toshinori, Shouta could stand. He was quieter and more withdrawn, making for pleasant company when you wanted to relax. Hizashi nodded sagely, “I could say the same for the Todoroki child! I understand that Endeavor would have already gotten him incredible tutors, but with the amount of effort he put in, I almost quirked out on him to make sure he hadn’t fallen asleep!” He snorted at the thought, even though he knew he’d have ended up encased in ice or burnt to a crisp.

Shouta groaned, “Why do I always get stuck with the problem children…?”

When the heroes had arrived at the USJ, Hizashi had faith that his boyfriend was strong enough to defend the students. The younger Iida had said there were countless villains there, and Hizashi believed him, but any cheap villain who let a hero in training defeat them and get help wasn’t anything that 13, Eraserhead, and All Might couldn’t handle. He had held onto his hopes right up until the doors to the USJ was pried open and the staff caught sight of the destroyed form of 13.

13 was well known among the staff as having the most destructive quirk, utilizing the irony of their desires and genetics to save others from destruction around them. They were rarely seen out of costume, and even when they were, theur hands were always covered with their customized special gloves. He had heard rumor of the destruction they had caused when their quirk manifested and was eternally grateful that the destructive quirk was on the heroes' side instead of the villains.

But the figured laid in front of them, bloody and torn to shreds, muscle and bone heavily exposed. They were unmoving, Ashido and Uraraka standing guard over what could have been a body, for all the staff knew. In the distance he could hear the shouts of the villains and All Might, but the telling voice of Shouta was missing, and it chilled his heart.

As Snipe disabled the villains who stood around the carnage and the black mist warped away, Hizashi’s mind snapped back into his body, and he felt himself become hysterical. Distantly he heard Nezu giving orders, and watched as Midnight knelt next to the shredded space suit.

He ignored the shouts of protest as he took off, bursts of his quirk disturbing the air particles in his path to reduce drag. He barely noticed the four students and All Might’s smoking form as he desperately searched for his fiance.

What he saw would be burnt into his mind until the day he died.

Aizawa laid motionless on the ground, Asui and Mineta hovering over the body. Blood ran from every curve and angle on his body, his eyes open and blank. He looked dead, other than the slight movement of his chest, rising and falling, barely there. There were odd angles to his limbs, and the occasional white chunk could be seen through tears in the fabric, but each one was soon drowned out by the red that seeped from every opening in his skin.

Hizashi was quick to dash over not daring to use his quirk, fearing he could somehow disturb the injured man and hurt him worse. He registered the nasally voice of Asui asking him what they needed to do, and the terrified warble of Mineta, but he couldn’t even react as he gently reached out, hand violently trembling.

“Sh-... Shoucchan…?”

His voice was barely a whisper, but he saw Asui visibly tense through the corner of his eye. She reached out and grabbed Mineta, pulling him back forcefully, and Hizashi was grateful for the space.

“Please answer me Sh-shouch-chan… I c-can’t lose you…”

Shouta laid unmoving, eyes unblinking and bleeding. His hands shook as he brushed aside the blood and hair over Shouta’s sternum, barely able to coordinate his fingers to pick up the ring that hung from his neck. It was soaked in blood, just like the rest of him.

“No… No, no no, Shoucch-chan, you can’t d-d-do this to m-me… p-please, Shouta…? Shouta, pl-please answer m-me…! Sh-shouta!”

He felt his voice rising in pitch and volume, and he fought to swallow the panic rising in his throat like bile, trying to get a hold of his quirk and failing every time he felt the blood running over his skin. Every time he looked Shouta looked paler and paler. He blinked and suddenly he was on his knees, grasping at Shouta’s shirt and scarf, foreheads pressed together.

“D-damn it! Y-you can’t g-go-! Pl-please I-i’ll d-do a-anyth-thing, you c-c-can’t le-! Leave me-me l-like this!”

He felt the boom of his voice reverberating in his bones, and he choked out a sob as he clutched at the broken form in front of him. The back of his mind noted how he must look pathetic, but that was squashed as well as any other rational thought as he felt his collar lifted up. He was yanked back from his fiance, and his fight or flight reaction lashed out at the hand that grabbed him. It instantly dissolved back into the murky white goo that had produced it, but soon enough two more hands had grabbed him, and Hizashi only curled in on himself as sobbed. Ectoplasm held him tightly in case he tried to lash out again, but he was too terrified to do anything.

He watched as the police carted away his boyfriend, and didn’t dare think of what would happen afterwards. He told himself it would be alright, and nothing could change that.

It didn’t stop him from sobbing and shaking the entire ride over to the hospital.

When he entered the room, Shouta was still asleep, covered from head to toe in bandages. Not a centimeter of skin could be seen, and it scared Hizashi shitless. Shouta wasn’t a vain person and took no pleasure in showing off his body to everyone he could brag to, but he certainly had no shame in it either. Having become accustomed to sleeping next to his shirtless boyfriend, seeing his form wrapped like a mummy -- another uncomfortable comparison to death -- only brought back the haunting voice in his head that told him he’d never get to talk to Shouta again, never get to cuddle up to Shouta again.

He violently shook his head and practically careened to the side of the bed, tears dripping down his cheeks. A nurse’s hand reached out to escort him out of the room, but he was quick to slap it away, “Pl-please, he’s m-my fiance, I c-c-can’t just lea-leave! I n-nee-need-! N-need to be h-here, d-don’t m-make m-m-me leave…”

His voice wavered at the end as he desperately pulled out the ring he proudly bore on his finger. Shouta must have had some sort of surgery, based on the bandages and casts, they must have seen the matching ring on him! Hizashi was famous and his name was unmistakable, it was on the ring, he had to stay, he had to.

One of the nurses leaned over and whispered in the ear of the other. The nurse who had reached over to take Hizashi away sent him a look, first of confusion and then of recognition, and nodded, apologizing. Hizashi didn’t really care as he warily took Shouta’s bandaged hand into his own.

The chain with the engagement ring still hung from the man’s neck, replaced after all the bandages were secured. He reached up and rolled the circle between his fingers, taking comfort as Shouta’s covered chest rose and fell, pushing Hizashi’s hand up and down.

He carefully unclasped the necklace and removed the ring. He rolled it over in his hand again, before craning down to kiss it, and kiss Shouta’s cheek.

Then he pushed it onto Shouta’s ring finger, feeling just slightly more secure.

The nurses entered the room on the occasion to check on Shouta, and most of the time they woke up Hizashi. He wanted to sleep so much, but couldn’t fit in the bed with Shouta and he didn’t dare leave. Instead he chose to doze off occasionally, getting in half an hour or so of a nap before another nurse interrupted him again, to replace a medicine bag on the IV pole or to take a measurement from the patient.

Each one of them had taken a look at the matching rings adorning the fingers of the two residents of the room, and each one of them had a look in their eyes, but none of them had said a word. Finally Hizashi fell off into a deeper sleep and wasn’t woken by a nurse.

When he did finally rouse, it was to the shifting of the man in the bed, which made Hizashi’s head shoot up and his line of sight instantly connected with the dark black eyes of his fiancee, “Hizashi…”

Hizashi choked back a sob and held Shouta as close he could without the other complaining, “You can’t- You can’t just do that to me Shouta! D-don’t you ever do that again!”

“I only protected the students like you would have, like 13 and All Might did…” He sighed lightly, and Hizashi shifted to give him more room to breathe. Shouta kept an iron grip on his hand, though, and Hizashi didn’t protest, “I’m alive now though, it takes more than that to-”

“It was designed to kill Shouta! It was meant to kill All Might who is so much stronger than either of us could ever hope to be! We had no hope of defeating it, the whole of the hero faculty would have been necessary to properly subdue it without All Might, and if you didn’t know that then, you do now!” When Shouta was uncomfortably silent, Hizashi just took it as a given that he had known what he was charging into, “You can’t just leave me like that, what-... Wh-what would I have done if you weren’t okay…? If you h-hadn’t come back alive…?”

He stopped as his voice began to waver again. He took the opportunity to look away from the bed, choosing instead to look out the window. Night had fallen again, Shouta in a medical coma for over 24 hours, and the moon rose high above the buildings of Musutafu. Its silent light came to rest on Hizashi’s skin, and could feel Shouta’s gaze behind him.

Shouta wisely chose to change the subject, saving the discussion for another day, “I see my ring is on.”

Hizashi nodded, “I-... I didn’t know if you would make it… And I wanted to see it on you one last time. So I put it on, and took mine out too. Yeah, the nurses know…”

Shouta hummed noncommittally and looked out the window along with Hizashi. His hand reached out slowly, curling around Hizashi’s bare fingers, and even though Hizashi had been terrified out of his mind and was upset that Shouta had come so close to dying or remaining in a permanent coma, he couldn’t push away his need to tactile affection. The hand holding rapidly turned from slight physical affection into Hizashi lying his head down on Shouta’s chest while Shouta played with his hair that had lost its gel in the past day.

Hizashi’s phone went off, an alarm that sounded every midnight from friday into saturday. For the second time in his career he missed his regularly scheduled show, but considering the news that would no doubt be front page of every news site tomorrow, he knew he didn’t have to worry about coming up with an excuse.

“You’re missing your show… You haven’t missed a show in years…”

Hizashi hummed and squeezed Shouta’s hand just a bit tighter, savouring the pressure of someone else’s hand holding his, “Yeah, last one was the week I thought you had rejected me… The only other one I’ve missed, even… It’s been you both times, I’ve always been so weak for you…”

He lifted his head to look Shouta in the eyes, and was met with a soft and loving gaze. It was hard to tell from his normal glare, but Hizashi had over a decade of experience in reading the man he held so close to his heart, and it softened every hard emotion he felt. He leaned forward and pecked his fiance on his bandage covered lips. Shouta’s eyes closed in pleasure or exhaustion, plausibly both, and Hizashi smiled in return.

Finally Shouta’s head returned to rest on the pillow behind him and he sighed, “Everyone’s going to know about us, aren’t they…?”

Hizashi hadn’t been looking forward to this part of the conversation. Shouta had never loved the media, and it had been reckless of Hizashi to use their engagement so publicly, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret where it had gotten him, “Yes… Although I suppose after that attack, even if our engagement doesn’t make front pages, everyone is going to know you anyway.” He gave a half hearted laugh, and received a humorless chuckle in return.

A cloud drifted over the moon, obscuring the beams from reaching them, and for just that moment of darkened clarity, Hizashi realized how nocturnal both of them were.

Shouta worked under the guise of night, the cloak of dawn tucking him to sleep after a hard night’s work. His costume was coloured to mask his presence in the dark, and his training had made him stealthy and silence. He stalked from roof to roof, alley over alley looking for his next villain, patrolling under the gentle caress of the moon. Even during the day, when Shouta struggled to stay away and teach, he radiated night life around him. The tired air and dark aura that some found intimidating were simply tokens of the quiet darkness that Shouta called home.

Hizashi came to life during the night. From playing his music in clubs to hosting his own radio show on the friday midnight slot, he was a night owl through and through. He partied, he graded, bright and flashy, subtle and comforting, Hizashi was a creature of the night, but the mirrored opposite of his fiance. Where his boyfriend was quiet, he was loud, where his boyfriend relaxed, he energized. He danced down the streets at 2 am and blasted his tunes as people woke up. He was an entirely new person when the sun went down.

Shouta felt Hizashi rub his thumb in small circles around the back of his hand, and sighed, “I suppose… Being associated with UA will bring fame eventually… I can still work underground, and as long as you love me, I’m okay with what happens… And if we’re finally open, we can really get married.”

Hizashi smiled at his fiance, “Yes, I think I’d like that.”

He curled up against Shouta's side and they both fell asleep, hand in hand.