Work Text:
On a mild spring day, just outside the gates of U-A, a teenage girl knelt. A breeze sent cherry blossom petals adrift and gently swept her hair back from her face, revealing her radiant smile. In front of her stood a scowling teenage boy.
“My darling, my dearest, light of my life, would you do my the highest honor of marrying me?”
“Hell no.”
There was an awkward pause as the girl peered up at her dark haired companion before saying in a stage-whisper, “Aizawa, that’s not in the script.”
Aizawa ran a hand through his hair in obvious agitation. “First of all, I’m not even in the play with you, so I don’t know why you insist on practicing lines with me. I never even agreed. And get up off the ground, Fukukado, you’re making a scene.”
“That’s kind of the point.” Still, she stood, brushing the dirt off her legs. “I do it with you because your reactions are hilarious!”
“Are those even your lines? I thought Yamada was playing the prince,” he grumbled, though he already knew the answer. He had caught bits and pieces of rehearsal from his perch with the rest of lighting crew.
“Nope, they’re his! I just like to practice it all so I can really get a feel for the scene. Plus, how could I resist proposing to my future husband?” She cooed, grinning even harder when he scrunched up his nose at her.
“Stop that.”
“I bet you wouldn’t mind if a certain someone said it instead,” she sang, skipping ahead.
He followed her at a much slower pace. Some days he really hated the fact that they were neighbors. And by some days, he meant most days. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She giggled. “Sure you don’t.”
“Can we just drop this? I would like a peaceful walk home for once.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Despite her statement, the rest of the walk was in fact blessedly silent. Aizawa was able to go home and spend the rest of his night studiously avoiding thoughts of a certain someone indeed.
---
The next day during lunch, Aizawa was picking at his food while Yamada, Kayama, Fukukado, and Sosaki discussed the play. It was only a few weeks away at this point and everyone was kicking into high gear in preparation for the big night.
“Are you free to practice lines today? I feel dumb practicing our scene from act 3 by myself,” Yamada said to Fukukado through a mouthful of rice.
She glanced up from the smiley face she had been making with her french fries. “Ah, sorry! I have to go straight home today, so I can’t. But if you want, Aizawa can practice with you. I’ve been making him go over it with me a lot lately so he’ll be a good test dummy.”
Aizawa tried to glare at her across the table but Yamada was already turning to him, nearly bouncing out of his seat in excitement.
“Really? That would be super helpful, dude!”
He hated the feel of so many eyes on him, awaiting his response. The attention made his skin prickle uncomfortably. The urge to refuse simply out of spite bubbled up, but it was quickly stamped out by the embarrassingly pleasant thought of hearing Yamade direct those stupidly romantic lines towards him.
“Sure,” he muttered quickly, ignoring Fukukado’s knowing smile.
“Great! Thanks so much, Aizawa. You’re the best.”
“I know.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur as Aizawa tried his hardest to focus on his lessons and avoid counting down the minutes until school ended.
They met in an empty classroom. Yamada brought two copies of the script for reference, and Aizawa provided a few cans of juice from the vending machine.
“So,” Aizawa said as he flipped through the script. “Where did you want to start?”
“Act three, scene four. It’s the one where the prince and the princess make plans to elope together.”
“Right.”
The scene opened with Yamada’s entrance so there was nothing for Aizawa to do except wait while his friend stepped out of the classroom to get into character. He sat at a desk, reading ahead in the script until the door suddenly swung open to reveal Yamada, a wild look in his eyes.
Showtime.
“Charlotte!” he cried, rushing over to Aizawa’s side to play the attentive lover. “Charlotte, my Charlotte, I feared I would never see you again."
“And I you, my heart,” Aizawa recited stiffly. He was unused to being the center of attention and despite it being just the two of them in the room, Yamada had an uncanny way of making him feel like he had a thousand eyes on him at once. “How did you manage to escape?”
Unfazed by Aizawa’s poor acting, Yamada smiled, puffing out his chest with pride. “Nothing could ever keep me from you, my love. I would fight an entire army to regain my place by your side.”
The line was supposed to be “my sweet” not “my love,” but Yamada always liked to improvise for dramatic effect. Aizawa clutched the script tighter, praying that the sweat from his palms didn’t dampen the pages. “My prince, I could not stand to be without you for so long. Promise me we will never again be apart.”
“Of course, my love. In fact, I will give you the most ironclad oath a man can give.”
Yamada took a deep breath and slowly sank down to one knee, his eyes achingly tender as he gazed up at his best friend. Despite knowing that the look was meant for the character he was playing, Aizawa’s heart still flipped in his chest. The folded script remained in Yamada’s left hand, but he used his right to reach out to Aizawa.
“My darling, my dearest, light of my life, would you do my the highest honor of marrying me?”
Aizawa swallowed. “I, uh.” He glanced down at the script, hating the warmth that he felt blooming in his cheeks. He tried to compensate by deliberately keeping his tone as flat and disinterested as possible. He failed miserably, hearing the tremor in his voice as he read his lines.
“Nothing would please me more…. my love. I love you more than anything, and I would gladly spend the rest of my life by your side, our lives intertwined, our hearts as one.”
To his surprise, Yamada did the one thing Aizawa had never seen him do in the past six months of theatre rehearsal: he broke character.
Abandoning the script on the floor, Yamada fervently clasped Aizawa’s free hand in both of his own. His voice cracked embarrassingly as he pleaded, “Go out with me.”
“W-What?” Aizawa didn’t need to look down to know this wasn’t in the script. “That’s not-”
“I know, I know. But it’s driving me crazy hearing you say those things when you look so cute and I just- Gah! I’m not as good with words as my character is, but I couldn’t not say anything, Aizawa. I’ve liked you for so long. Please just say you’ll be my boyfriend?”
Yamada’s cheeks were flushed with rosy sincerity, and despite the nervousness in his voice, his gaze was surprisingly steady. Aizawa was certain he was just as red in the face, but he couldn’t be bothered to feel anything other than giddiness.
Had anyone been looking in on the scene, they would have seen this: on a mild spring day, in an empty classroom, a teenage boy knelt. The late afternoon sun streaming in through the window highlighted the glow of his blonde hair, vibrant eyes. In front of him stood a smiling teenage boy.
Not a happy ending, but rather a happy beginning.