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To describe what he was currently feeling as tired would have been an understatement. Exhaustion filled his bones and joints with surgical precision; heavy shackles attached to his ankles and wrists, weighting his every step and tampering his movements. Any and all sensations numbed, turning them into nothing but faint experiences, too distant to feel real. He had work to do. A lot of it. A hell of too much of it for all he was worth.
“E…ser!”
He had approximately two whole stacks of papers to grade and exactly null disposition to do so. However, such was the life of an adult. 30 years old as of yesterday, no celebration allowed. With a heavy sigh, Shouta took the first paper of the bundle, exhaling his entire soul upon seeing Kaminari’s anarchist handwriting. This one promised to be a train wreck. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine creeping in on him; not that his friend seemed to care about making it worse.
“Oy, Eraser!”
Grunting in what could pass off as a sound of acknowledgement, he attempted to ignore Mic’s strident voice. He couldn’t catch a break.
“Eraser, say. You have time to karaoke this weekend?” Midnight’s velvet voice reached his ear, with its ever present mischievous undertone. Aizawa failed to answer, running his eyes again through the paper. He must have made a mistake. Having a negative grade was impossible to achieve, even for one with such an outstanding capacity for failing exams as Kaminari.
“I’m saying he probably has plans for [Name]’s birthday.” Mic whined, sighing much more audibly than strictly necessary. Right there, he had marked one of the questions incorrectly. Not that this would help the boy’s case overmuch. Maybe if he offered lessons… Wait just a second.
“Birthday?” Shouta finally raised his head in something of a surprise, only to squint angrily at the cigarette between Mic’s fingers. “Take your shitty smoking outside.”
“[Name]’s birthday is this weekend. You know, your s/o.” Not abashed in the slightest, the other hero placed the cigarette behind his own ear, seemingly happy enough with himself. “Aren’t you going to celebrate with them?” he smiled up at Shouta, somewhat wickedly, obviously having noticed that he had forgotten. Damn it. It had completely slipped his mind. What, between the general consistency of his fatigated state and his personal disregard of his own birthday, he had failed to notice that theirs was nothing less than 5 days away. No, correction: 4 days away. Well, shit.
That explained why they had made a point of telling him, with all airs of importance, that they had no plans for that weekend. Despite him not having asked them. Things suddenly clicked in his brain and he pressed his fingers to his eyes, feeling like a dumbass. Of course they were expecting something. And he had forgotten.
“Hey, no worries, Eraser!” Mic’s overly excited voice stormed his eardrums, much too close for comfort, as he felt his friend’s arm rest amicably on his shoulders. “You still have 4 days to think of something.”
“Shut up.”
—-
The light is what wakes them up. Eyelids fluttering gently open, they look around in confusion, still slightly lost on the dense mist of sleep. The telltale way in which the sunlight filtered through the room, with almost devastating clarity, gave away exactly how much they had overslept. It should be almost noon at that point. All heavy limbs and fuzzy mind, they stretch languidly, revelling on the soft feel of the sheets tangled around their body. Trying to pretend the absence of Shouta didn’t bring sadness to their heart.
Because it did, more than what they cared to admit. The space besides them was empty and cold, which by itself felt like a rather lonely birthday gift. Shouta probably left for work, on a Saturday of all days. At this point, they were convinced that he had forgotten. They could all but hear their own heart breaking just by remembering last night. How they had waited awake, because they enjoyed to just wait for the clock to turn midnight so they could just welcome their special day. And how Shouta had arrived from patrol shortly after, only to promptly collapse in bed, absolutely oblivious as for what reason his s/o would be excited at such a late hour. Not even a modest ‘happy birthday’ before falling into a deep slumber. Nothing.
Already drained of all the possible excitement they might have felt for the day to come, they get up slowly, staggering into the living room in a daze. At the exact same time as Shouta came in through the front door. He scoffed in half amusement, apparently finding something funny in their dishevelled appearance. “Sleeping much? Sit you down, sleepyhead. I will press some coffee for you.” He jested through his customary sarcastic demeanour.
Huffing irritably, they sat down on the couch, telling themselves that it was absolutely not because he told them to, but rather because they still felt just too dizzy from excess of sleep. Yes, that was it. As it was, they almost jumped out of their skin when something suddenly fell unceremoniously onto their lap. A small box.
They looked up at the culprit, namely Shouta, who was now placing a hot mug of coffee on the side table, looking as unfazed as always. Feeling their hearts swell with renewed and bright hope, they opened the small gift. Inside there was the new album of one of their favourite bands, accompanied by a sweet note signed with the flashy handwriting unmistakably belonging to Present Mic. The disappointment was so strong that they could swear they heard they heart die a little bit, almost like a wounded animal attacked by surprise by a hunter in the woods. Fatal injury. It wasn’t Shouta’s. He had truly forgotten.
“It’s from Hizashi” their boyfriend explained, rather unnecessarily. Acquiescing silently, they bit down their lower lip, fighting back the silly tears that threatened to spill. It’s not that they weren’t glad with Hizashi’s thoughtful gift – it’s true that they had been blabbing about that musician nonstop for the last few months – but it hurt them so to know their own boyfriend would so blatantly overlook their birthday. And he must know at this point, surely. But the cold disregard and lack of acknowledgement felt a bit much at this point. They sniffed, lightly but still more audibly than they had intended, and they heard Shouta clicking his tongue, as a clear show of his own discomfort.
They heard the shuffling sound of clothes and the fainting steps as Shouta walked away. Well, great. The day was going downhill barely 30 minutes since waking up. It was a talent of theirs, apparently. Maybe they should put it on their CV and get a job as a day-destroyer, as they were clearly in wrong profession.
Absorbed in their thought, they didn’t hear he come back, and were snapped out of their thoughts by the deep sound of his voice. “I also don’t have any plans for the weekend.” Even through their upset haze, he sounded a bit awkward.
Surprised, they raised their eyes to meet his, not quite understanding where this was going. He was sitting on the couch’s armrest. Close enough to be touched if they so much desired, while still giving them enough breathing space. He placed his hand behind his neck, scratching the area as if in embarrassment, somehow managing to further mess his already sloppy locks.
“What I mean is…” he went on, taking a deep breath as if looking to gather himself. “I took the weekend off. To spend with you.”
It took some seconds for the information to sink in. Their heart behaving wearily in fear of further disappointment. But this was a verbal admission. He had freed his days, to spend only with them.
“So we can do whatever you like. I know it’s not ideal and nothing much but—”
“You remembered.” They croaked, stupidly emotional over the simple conclusion. Shouta’s eyes widened, and pressed his lips together, letting his hand drop to his lap in some sort of defeat.
“I had… In truth, I had forgotten. Hizashi reminded me.” He admitted, voice dropping ever-so-slightly to what could be described as an abashed tone. “I’m sorry. I—” He was suddenly interrupted by a soft and muffled ‘meow’ which came from some location within his person.
Their mouth fell open, in an almost comical surprise. “Is that a…?”
Had they not known any better, they would have sworn that the change of tone in his cheeks was that of an embarrassed flush. However, Shouta most certainly didn’t do blushing, so it was probably a result of room temperature. Right? Right. Despite that, their boyfriend reached somewhere inside the coat he was wearing, revealing the most cute, fluffy, and small kitten they had ever laid their eyes upon.
Unable to suppress an enthusiastic squeak, as well as the beautiful warm feeling that began to spread through their heart and stomach, they stretched their hands eagerly, receiving the little thing with careful adoration. The kitten blinked lazily, apparently confused with the change of environment, rolling over on their palm carelessly and proceeding to adorably paw their finger. It had a black and silky fur, and was wearing a loose red ribbon around its neck, almost as if it was placed there in an afterthought.
“That’s why I left earlier. You said you wanted one for some time now. And Kayama has a friend whose cat just had a litter and, well, I thought you would like.” He trailed off, noticing they were barely paying him any mind.
“But… You said you were too busy to care for one.” They said, feeling their heart twist painfully at the mere thought of having to return the lovely creature. They loved it already. “Or would I take it to my house? You can maybe visit it sometimes? Or it stays here and I will visit it sometimes?”
“That won’t be a problem if you move in.” He put in, with appalling simplicity, as if answering that obviously the sum of two plus two equals four. Not as if he had just invited his long term partner to live together. They felt their heart stop, the air leaving their lungs altogether.
“Do you mean this?” They said quietly, emotion taking over their soul in strong waves as the kitten bit at their thumb softly.
He nodded, a rare gentle smile touching his lips. “Yes, I do. If you will have me. No don’t.” He added in mild panic, as the tears threatened to spill down their eyes. He closed the space between them both, wrapping his arm around their shoulder, allowing them to bury their face on the crook of his neck as they tried to regain control. “Happy birthday, [Name].” He said lamely, sounding mildly afraid to cause another emotional burst. But they knew now: he meant it.