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Yagi wanted to say it. He found himself stuttering often, those three words almost slipping past his lips. It felt so natural to say, every time Aizawa rubbed his back after a coughing fit or held his hand. It was on the tip of his tongue with every warm, affectionate smile he received. He wanted to shout it whenever Aizawa came home from patrol, chin proudly lifted as he told Yagi about how he subdued some villain. Most of all, he yearned to whisper it in the dead of night, after Aizawa had fallen asleep in his arms.
He just… couldn’t. He knew Aizawa felt something, but putting that word to it, admitting something so intimate, was to be wholly vulnerable. He trusted Aizawa, more than anyone else in his life (and wasn’t that a startling realization?), but he was scared. There was uncertainty. He’d never felt this deeply before, never thought that he could. If he laid himself bare, broken pieces and feelings revealed, would Aizawa help to piece him back together again?
He needed to say it. Aizawa deserved his honesty.
What did he deserve, though? Yagi didn’t deserve someone so intelligent and glorious as Aizawa. He didn’t merit the light touches or quiet companionship. Aizawa’s sincere smiles, though uncommon (or maybe because they felt hard-won), were brilliant smudges in his otherwise gray existence. He couldn’t say those words because he couldn’t figure out why he deserved to do so.
Every time he thought he could be brave enough, those dark eyes left him tongue-tied.
With Aizawa, Yagi felt beloved. Cherished. Even when Yagi was filled with self-loathing, Aizawa could be kind without coddling. When Aizawa held him close, gently ran his fingers through his hair, Yagi finally felt at peace.
He needed to tell Aizawa that he loved him.
He could also feel himself working into a panic. That wouldn’t do.
“What’s on your mind?” Aizawa asked, bumping his shoulder against Yagi. He leaned with his forearms resting on the top of short metal fencing. Koi splashed below, their mouth open in wide o’s in appeal for food. He watched the swarms of white, orange, and silver scales. Cherry and plum blossoms dotted the surface.
Yagi snapped out of his reverie. “What do you mean?”
Aizawa turned so his back faced the pond. “You’re quiet.” He stared up at Yagi. With his hair tied back in a loose bun, Yagi could admire the long line of his neck and shoulder. His lover was a beautiful man.
“It’s nothing,” Yagi waved a hand dismissively.
Frowning, Aizawa pressed, “you know that you can tell me anything.”
Yagi grinned. “I know.” His heart thudded. He could say it now. He should, but he was so uncertain of the potential aftermath of such a confession that he, once again, found himself stuck with those words as a lump in his throat.
Aizawa regarded him for a long moment. It wasn’t the intense, disgruntled scrutinization he used to receive when they were first acquainted. This look may have been cautious, but it was also affectionate. Instead of making him insecure, this look raised him up, made him feel powerful again. His face must have shown it, because Aizawa gifted him with an uncharacteristically self-conscious smile. “I love you.”
He said the words quietly, so much so that Yagi almost thought that he hallucinated them. Yet Aizawa was staring at him with so much determination. “You…” Yagi trailed off because words kept escaping him. He felt like he was floundering.
Aizawa didn’t look away. “I love you, Toshinori.” His voice shook, so little that Yagi doubted anyone else would notice, but it was enough. The words were an offering to him, and Aizawa was just as scared that they wouldn’t be accepted.
Aizawa loved him.
Yagi choked. The familiar copper tang of blood filled his tongue. He grasped at his handkerchief and coughed into it.
“Oi,” Aizawa approached and rubbed at his back.
Yagi tried to speak between the coughs. “I.” He cleared his throat and tried to breathe. He tried again. “I love you, Shouta.” He gave one final cough. “I love you so much.”
Aizawa touched Yagi’s face and gave a quiet, relieved huff, and it was enough to lift the weight off Yagi’s shoulders. He shook as laughter bubbled up. He couldn’t help it—he was so happy. Aizawa grinned, a secret shared in the close space between them, and shut him up by kissing him deeply.
When they parted again, Yagi looked dismayed. “I can’t believe you said it first,” he groaned.
Aizawa smirked. “I was waiting, but you kept chickening out.”
“I love you,” Yagi repeated. “I’ll tell you every day for the rest of our lives.” He had to kiss Aizawa again, had to keep kissing him until… well, he couldn’t think of anything that would make him want to stop.
“Come on,” Aizawa finally murmured against his lips. “We should get back to campus.”
That was right, they were teachers. They had responsibilities.
Still, he balked, because he wanted to keep his tenuous hold on this moment.
Aizawa entangled their fingers. “I’ll still love you after we’ve checked on the students, sorted next week’s lesson plans, and graded yesterday’s quizzes.”
Yagi squeezed Aizawa’s hand and thrilled in the feeling of him squeezing back. He would never get tired of hearing Aizawa say it.
The rest of our lives.