Archive of Our Own

Aizawa Shouta stood out amongst his peers with his long, shaggy, black hair, matte black nails, skull ear piercings, and thick black eyeliner. He wore the same school uniform everyone did, but he added some last minute alterations. Long, silver chains hung heavily from the pockets of his dark navy trousers. Black leather studded belts criss-crossed his waist. His navy blazer was adorned with several rock band pins. Rubber bracelets peeked out from under his sleeves, and the top of his silver cross was visible since he left his top buttons undone. Even the soles of his black oxford shoes were adorned with crudely drawn skulls.

The whole look was accentuated by his “go to hell” attitude and the scowl across his face. No one dared stand too close to him or look him directly in the eyes, choosing to look elsewhere as the gym continued to fill up. Just how he wanted it.

A few more restless minutes passed when Aizawa felt a presence getting closer to him. “Mind if I stand next to you?” A voice called out as a hand tapped him on the shoulder. Aizawa nearly jumped at the surprise touch. Part of him wanted to shout, but there were too many people here, it was too early, and he hadn't had his coffee yet.

“Whatever, dude.” he grumbled not even looking at the person, hoping giving the cold shoulder would make them disappear quickly.

“Thanks. I dig your look, by the way. It’s quite intimidating. I can't imagine the faculty are too happy about you breaking the dress code.”

Aizawa scoffed, rocking back and forth on his heels as he shoved his hands into his blazer's pockets. ‘If I am so intimidating, why is this kid bothering me?’

“The dress code is just an excuse to force conformity on an undereducated populace. It is irrational.”

His new neighbor laughed heartily beside him, shaking the creaky old gym floorboards underneath them. “Fair enough”

The stranger held out a hand in front of Aizawa's face. “I'm Yagi Toshinori, by the way. What's your name?”

Aizawa blinked for a moment. People almost always avoided him so he rarely had practice in introductory etiquette. If his makeup didn't scare them off, his cold personality normally did. But this guy had a taste of both, and didn't seem bothered in the least. Part of him wanted to know why. Normal people don't act so kind to outcasts like him.

He debated what to do, knowing he could brush this kid off if he truly wanted to. But something in the earnestness of his outstretched hand and genuine tone piqued Aizawa's curiosity.

“Aizawa Shouta.” He clasped Yagi's outstretched hand giving it a firm, quick shake before putting his hand back into his pocket.

“Aizawa. I like that. It suits you.”

“What's that supposed t-” Aizawa turned towards Yagi to scold him, but his words escaped him as bright azure eyes met his gaze.

Yagi was a bit taller than he was, but not significantly so. Lanky and thin as if his body started growing before his muscles could catch up. His hair was a mess of blonde sticking out in all directions save the long bangs which framed his angular jaw. He wore a pair of simple square navy colored frames that only seemed to accentuate the color of his eyes. Most important of all, plastered on his face was one of the most sincere smiles, one meant for Aizawa.

Aizawa swallowed back hard. Looking at Yagi was like looking at a beautiful statue come to life or staring into the sunrise as its subtle glow started to warm you. Aizawa made a mental note to sketch this moment later. Until then, he turned his attention back towards the stage as a faint blush crept up his neck.

“What was that?” Yagi said, leaning over trying to look Aizawa in the face. His wide blue eyes searched for something.

The screeching sound of a microphone broke up their conversation as the orientation began. Every once in a while Yagi would make some comment or try to crack some joke. Aizawa did his best to shrug them off, but he felt on edge with the ease Yagi found in his company. His palms were sweating, his stomach was doing summersaults, and his knees felt weak. He had never felt this way before and he didn't have a way to explain it. He prayed to whatever deity would listen that his persona would hold.

The minute the final speaker finished, Aizawa bolted out of that gym, grateful for fresh air and space away from Yagi. He maneuvered his way around crowds of students, most of whom willingly moved out of his way, searching for any spot to hide and gather his composure. He noticed a few oak trees big enough for him to hide behind. He slid against one, finally out of sight of everyone and let out a sigh of relief.

What was happening to him? He'd built thick walls around himself and no one had ever managed to breach them, but than this smiling boy who smelled like sunflowers and shined like the sun somehow put a crack in his armor.

‘It is probably because he is so friendly. It has to be. Normal people aren't friendly to me so my body doesn't know how to react.’

“Aizawa? Hey, Aizawa? Where'd you go?”

Aizawa's ears perked up as he heard Yagi frantically calling out his name. He slowly craned his head out from behind the tree and watched as Yagi scanned the crowd of students, looking like a lost little puppy trying to find its master. Yagi pouted as he looked everywhere around him.

Aizawa stayed there and observed, afraid to move. Scared to even breathe. Yagi dropped his shoulders, seeming almost ready to give up when their eyes met. The bespectacled behemoth bounded towards him.

‘Shit!’ Aizawa let out an embarrassing yelp, his heart pounding heavy in his chest. He scanned the area around him looking for another hiding spot when the first class bell rang.

Aizawa folded his hands together, thanking the heavens for the rescue, and ran off from his spot towards his classroom before Yagi managed to catch up.

Fortunately for him, Yagi wasn't in his homeroom class that year. In fact, they didn't share a single class together, much to Aizawa's relief. The only time they saw one another was during their shared lunch breaks. Of course, the moment Yagi noticed, he started following Aizawa. The latter boy tried to dodge him for over two weeks during that hour, but Yagi always seemed to find whatever corner, classroom, or closet he was hiding in.

Exhausting all other choices, Aizawa made the climb up to the roof. It was a vain attempt to escape. Yagi was fast, and his long legs meant his stride easily caught up with Aizawa.

“Aizawa, wait up!” Yagi said as he casually strolled up beside him, his bento in hand. Aizawa cursed under his breath, pushing the giant metal door open, not bothering to hold it for Yagi. He secretly hoped it would hit the kid in the face and knock some sense into him, but it was to no avail.

“Wow, the view up here is really nice.” Yagi pushed through the door, following close behind Aizawa.

Aizawa grumbled, “You like a lot of silly things, don't you?” He slumped down against one of the corners, hands crossed over his chest.

Yagi sat down right beside him. “I guess you could say that...” Aizawa noticed a faint dusting of red crossing Yagi's cheeks as he sheepishly smiled down at his lunch.

Aizawa bit his lip, looking off in any direction but at his rooftop companion.

The two started sorting their lunches in front of them. Aizawa set down an energy gel packet, his water, and a thing of melonpan his dad forced him to bring. Meanwhile, Yagi unpacked a simple bento. He pecked at the rice in the bottom compartment with his chopsticks as if he wanted to say something, debating it in his mind.

“What?” Aizawa said, pulling Yagi from his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“You keep playing with your rice.” He pointed down at Yagi's lunch.

“Oh. Sorry. I’m just surprised you aren't running away again.”

A tense silence built between the two of them. Aizawa felt a little bad Yagi noticed he was trying to avoid him. Really, he wanted to be left alone, but it wasn't like Yagi was doing anything wrong. He just wanted to spend time with him.

“You know there are other places to sit for lunch. Other people who won't run away from you, ya know?” Aizawa said dryly, twisting off the cap of his energy gel. He took a few sips than set it back down on the ground.

“Not really.” Yagi continued to stir his rice.

“There is literally a whole school at your disposal.” Aizawa gestured before taking a sip of his water.

“I know, but,” Yagi tugged on his bangs, moving them behind his ear, ”but this is the only spot beside you.”

Aizawa's water caught in his throat causing him to choke. He started coughing violently. Yagi patted him gently on the back, trying to help but only made Aizawa's cough worse from his touch. He waved Yagi's hand away as he struggled for a minute to finally clear his throat.

Once he finally caught his breath, he glared at Yagi. “Why the fuck would you say something like that?”

Yagi blinked a few times. “What? I was just telling the truth. I like being near you.” He looked down while playing with the hem of his shirt.

Aizawa wanted to chastise him more for being so direct, but he just couldn't. Something in the sincerity of Yagi held him back.

“Whatever, I guess.” Aizawa mumbled, scratching behind his neck. “Sit wherever you want.”

Yagi's blue eyes glistened in the sunlight, happy tears forming in the corners as his fingers continued fumbling with his shirt. “Really?”

Aizawa nodded. “Yeah. Just, don't sit too close. I don't want people thinking we are friends.”

“But...we are friends, right?”

Aizawa sighed, running his hand over his face. “We barely know one another...but yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Yagi adjusted his glasses, his countenance radiating joy. “Thanks, Aizawa. Sorry if I've been bothering you. I've been told I get a bit overly enthusiastic sometimes.”

“You? Enthusiastic? I am stunned.” Aizawa rolled his eyes. He looked over at Yagi who started chuckling. Any tension building eased in that moment and Yagi started diving back into his lunch with renewed enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Aizawa found himself simply watching from out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't help it. Something about Yagi drew him in like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was because no one else at the school seemed to notice his existence. No one bothered to try except the kid sitting beside him.

He made a mental note to remember to add another sketch of Yagi to his suddenly growing collection. Someone so intriguing and optimistic deserved it.

Finishing up, Aizawa helped Yagi to his feet. They dusted their uniforms off and walked side by side to the door. Yagi held it open for Aizawa who brushed past him, their bodies touching for just a moment sending chills down Aizawa's spine.

“Hey, Aizawa?” Yagi asked. Aizawa stopped and turned to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for lunch. We should do it,” his blue eyes went wide as if realizing the implication of that particular phrase, “uh not it as in it but it as in lunch. Let's have lunch again soon, okay?”

Aizawa paused for a moment before nodding. “Sure. You know where to find me.”

As Aizawa sat in class, his thoughts wandered back towards lunch. ‘Yagi Toshinori. You are one weird kid.’

Aizawa didn't see much of Yagi after that lunch. It wasn't because he tried to hide from him anymore. Yagi invested himself in a ton of extracurricular activities. He joined the mathletes, the swim team, and took part in student council. He seldom had free time and often their only interactions were a quick wave and hello in the hallways between classes.

Meanwhile, Aizawa occupied himself with his poetry and art. The new leatherbound notebook his father bought him came in handy as he filled its pages. Most of them about Yagi, the kid whose blue eyes glittered like the stars. The one whose smile pierced through the dark wasteland of his bitter facade. Yagi who carried sunlight in his soul. The embodiment of sunflowers. Bright. Bold. Blossoming under the warmth of his good heart. The sun ceaselessly trying to chase the moon.

This kid haunted his dreams, day and night and putting those feelings out on paper was his only outlet.

If Yagi was the warm, inviting sun, than Aizawa was the cold, lonely moon. He didn't want visitors to walk all over him. To sift him and search in him, trying to discover if he would be valuable to them. He wanted to be left alone like the moon in the night sky.

Unfortunately, his anti-social nature did not go unnoticed by his classmates. He heard them call him troublemaker or lazy. Even with excellent grades, he wasn't enough for them. Aizawa heard their whispers when they thought he was out of earshot. They said things like he had too many piercings. He looked like he hadn't showered in weeks. He looked dangerous. Many shuffled around him, disgust in their eyes. Teachers and students alike. No one dared actually get into an altercation with him, but they certainly made sure he didn't feel welcome.

And most of the time he could ignore it, but even his armor had weak spots.

Somehow though, when those darker clouds came closing in, when he really felt the sting of their words and the bitterness of being alone, out of nowhere Yagi would appear like sunrise after a stormy night.

“Howdy partner. I need a lunch buddy. You in?”

The roof became their haven on campus. Whenever one of them was having a bad day or needed an escape, they went up there. Even with Yagi's ever increasing workload, he managed to work his schedule so the two of them could spend at least one lunch period together a week, two during good ones.

Whenever Aizawa was alone, he found himself missing the company. He hadn't really had close friends in a long time and all of this felt new to him. Aizawa missed Yagi's smile. The way he picked at his food when his mind was troubled. The way he tugged on his bangs whenever he got self-conscious about something. The way he smelled.

Without realizing it himself, Aizawa was falling for this boy. And he was falling hard.

*****
As the final warmth of summer faded into an unusually cold autumn, Aizawa found it harder and harder to maintain his aesthetic. He started wearing heavier, black boots with just a bit of a wedge on the heel as well as an ornately detailed silver and black peacoat and fingerless black gloves. His father begged him to wear a scarf too, but he simply waved the concern off saying to his dad as he was leaving, “My aesthetic requires my cross to be visible, dad. You just wouldn't understand.”

Of course his dad had been right. By the time he made it to class, the bare skin of his neck stung from the wind whipping against it. He decided against going to the roof during lunch that day, knowing Yagi had student council duties to keep him occupied. Sipping his energy gel at his desk and staring out the window at the falling leaves, he hardly noticed Yagi enter until a chair screeched beside him.

“What'cha looking at?” Yagi said, straddling the chair backwards, resting his arms on its back.

“The existential dread of going out into the frigid wasteland known as the real world. What about you?”

Yagi wistfully sighed, “A moonlight daydream.”

Aizawa wanted to ask what he meant, but part of him feared the answer. “So, what brings student council member Yagi Toshinori to my humble classroom?”

“Please, just call me future president Yagi Toshinori.”

The two of them exchanged smirks than Yagi continued. “I have the afternoon off and I was wondering if you wanted to spend it with me? We could maybe walk home together or something. Maybe stop for coffee along the way.”

Aizawa considered Yagi's proposal for a moment. He didn't really have anything planned besides working on a few pieces in his sketchbook, but spending a few hours with his muse seemed to big a chance to miss. “My place or yours?”

Yagi hesitated. “Um, if I get to choose, definitely your place over mine.”

“What's wrong with your place?”

Yagi shifted uncomfortable in his seat, his shoulders slumped slightly over. It was a new side of Yagi Aizawa had never seen before. A kind of hidden sadness behind a pristine smile. Maybe home was the reason Yagi kept himself so busy with school. Perhaps Yagi wasn't quite as happy as he led on. Something about that bothered Aizawa to the core. No one so sweet should ever look so sad.

“My place it is, though fair warning. You are the first to enter my lair so bring the appropriate sacrifice.”

Yagi's face filled with concern. “Sa-sacrifice?”

Aizawa nodded, a smug smile spreading across his face. “Yep. Three coffees. One for each of us and one for my dad.”

Aizawa waited by the front gate of the school for Yagi. Standing out in the cold again, he cursed himself for choosing fashion over comfort. He started rubbing his arms in a vain attempt at creating some warmth, but the wind continued to blow, chilling him to the bone.

“Aizawa? Where on earth is your scarf?” Yagi crossed his arms over his chest.

“Didn't bring one. Ruins the look.” Aizawa shrugged.

Yagi shook his head incredulously and began to unwrap the lavender plaid scarf he was wearing, muttering about all the health risks Aizawa was taking for the sake of something as silly as fashion.

“Oh no,” Aizawa's eyes widened in horror, “don't you dare give me that lavender monstrosity, Yagi Toshinori!” Aizawa waved his hands in the air.

Yagi ignored his protests. He blocked Aizawa against the gate, using his height and and growing muscles to corner him in. Aizawa tried to dodge him, but Yagi was a lot stronger and more stubborn than he realized. Rather swiftly, he'd managed to bundle Aizawa's neck from chin to chest, tucking the ends into Aizawa's coat.

Yagi smiled triumphantly at him before he pulled at the zipper of his yellow plaid jacket, using it to cover his neck now that his scarf was gone.

Aizawa indeed felt warmer, but when he looked down at the pastel piece of cloth, he wanted to scream. “Yagi,” he whined pulling at the cloth,“why do you wear something in such a hideous color? And why are you making me wear it?”

Yagi pushed his glasses back up onto his nose. “First off, lavender is a beautiful color. Secondly,” Yagi held up a finger in front of Aizawa's face, “if you stayed out in the cold too long without covering your neck you could get sick and I care too much about you...r health to let you get sick so close to winter break.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, stuffing his face deep into the scarf. It smelled like Yagi and it was intoxicating. He let himself drown in the scent until he felt a pull against his arm.

“Come on, Aizawa. We are wasting time. Let's go!”

The two of them walked side by side towards Aizawa's apartment, picking up coffee along the way. Aizawa made fun of Yagi for putting tons of sugar and cream in his, while Yagi teased that Aizawa only drank it black “for the aesthetic.”

Yagi navigated the conversation with ease as the continued their walk, knowing just the right things to say to keep Aizawa's attention without expecting many responses. Yagi pointed out all sorts of random details about the area Aizawa didn't know and he wondered why Yagi cared so much about such simple things like shop fronts and alleyways. He didn't ask though, choosing to focus on the smell of the scarf and the joy of a friend.

“Well, this is it. Fair warning, my dad is...well, you know how dads are.”

Yagi shook his head, his eyes seemingly focused on something far off in his mind. “Not really.”

Aizawa frowned, wanting to ask why, but deciding against it. If Yagi wanted to share, he would.

Aizawa led the way inside a nondescript apartment complex, trudging up four flights of stairs until he stopped in front of his apartment. He slipped the key out of his pocket, unlocking the door. He stepped inside, motioning with his hand for Yagi to follow.

As the two slid off their shoes and coats, Aizawa's father stepped out of the kitchen to greet them. Although they looked almost identical with the same dark eyes, pale skin, and ebony locks, Aizawa's father dressed far more relaxed than his son. He wore black skinny jeans, a loose white tee with paint stains on it, and a pair of very worn black bunny slippers. He wore eyeliner, but in a far less dramatic style than Aizawa, and had only one piercing on his eyebrow.

“Shouta, my boy. Welcome home!” He pulled Aizawa into a big bear hug eliciting a groan from his son. He set him down and patted the scarf around his neck. “Lavender really clashes with your aesthetic. I love it. Who'd you get it from?”

Aizawa pointed at Yagi who stood there smiling, coffees in hand. “This guy.”

His father held out a hand to Yagi. “Aizawa Kamijo. Nice to meet you, this guy.” He winked causing Yagi to laugh.

Yagi took his hand graciously, bowing at the same time. “Yagi Toshinori. Nice to meet you, sir.”

Kamijo shook his head. “Oh please, just call me Kamijo.”

“Ugh, dad. Stop. Your embarrassing me in front of my friend.”

Kamijo ruffled Aizawa's hair, causing his son to glare at him. “Let loose a little, Sho.” Aizawa huffed.

“Well come on in, kids. I was just whipping up some dinner.”

“I have coffee.” Aizawa grumbled.

Kamijo shook his head and put a hand on both their shoulders, pushing them towards the kitchen. “Coffee doesn't count. You hungry Yagi?”

“Yes si-Kamijo. But don't trouble yourself on my account.”

“It is no trouble at all. Go wash up and I will throw something together for you.”

Yagi looked everywhere around him, distracted by all the pictures of his family on the walls, and the random trinkets collected from all over as he followed Aizawa to the bathroom sink. The apartment had a lot of personality, and Yagi seemed overwhelmed by it. It seemed strange to Aizawa as Yagi was brimming with personality. He imagined Yagi must live somewhere bursting with life and color.

The apartment bathroom was small, but it felt even more cramped than normal with the two of them stuffed inside. They stood shoulder to shoulder, unable to move much without being in the way of the other. They did their best to avoid any mishaps, their hands almost touching once or twice.

“Your dad seems nice. Way friendlier than you are.” Yagi said as Aizawa handed him a towel to dry his hands.

“Am I not friendly?” Aizawa said, turning sideways for some space to put his hands on his hips.

“I mean, you can be sometimes. Though, if I am being honest, I wouldn't mind you being friendlier with me.” Yagi blurted out.

Aizawa took a step closer, pushing Yagi's back into the doorknob. Aizawa put his hands on either side of him, cornering Yagi. A flash of fear spread across Yagi's face as he leaned in close.

“Shouta, please…” Yagi whispered, licking his lips.

‘Shouta?’

Suddenly the door knob jostled. Before they had a chance to move, Kamijo opened the door and the two toppled into the hallway.

Aizawa found himself straddling Yagi's chest, his hands catching him on either side of Yagi's head, his face barely hovering above the kid. Their lips were so close together, much closer than before. He could feel Yagi's breath against him.

“Oh god.” Aizawa leapt off him quickly, scooting a few feet away, chest heaving up and down, heart thundering in chest. He clasped his hand over his mouth. Feeling Yagi beneath him, feeling that breath mingling with his own, it was all too much for the raging hormones rushing through him.

Yagi sat up slowly, his face the brightest shade of red Aizawa had ever seen. His glasses were askew, hair even more disheveled looking than usual.

“Damn,” Kamijo laughed, “I wish I had a photo of that.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Dinner is ready, if you want it. Though maybe you’re just thirsty right now.”

Aizawa shot a death glare his father's way, but it was ignored as he marched back towards the kitchen. Yagi scrambled to his feet and followed leaving Aizawa dazed and blushing in the hallway alone.

*****
After that day, Yagi's extracurriculars picked up again and he was busier than ever. Weekly lunches became shorter as Yagi needed to visit faculty and attend more meetings. Aizawa said it didn't bother him, but he certainly felt a twinge of jealousy for those who got to spend so much time with Yagi. Part of him wished he could fit in more just so he could be near Yagi.

Autumn turned to Winter and Winter turned to Spring. Everything thawed around them. The world blossoming with possibilities. A hope for something wonderful just waiting for them to reach out and grasp it. If only one of them had the courage.

The last days of classes were upon them before they knew it.

The final bell for the final class rang, and Aizawa made his way up the rooftop where he and Yagi planned to meet this afternoon, a final hurrah before they parted ways for the break.

Aizawa let his feet dangle over the edge of the building as he waited for Yagi to come. From his vantage point, he watched as students piled out of the school, many being greeted by parents. Some were in tears as they waved goodbye to their friends for the summer.

He let his thoughts wander as he thought about his own summer plans. His dad was going to Europe for two months to work on art exhibitions and asked Aizawa to tag along. Aizawa hesitated at first, but Yagi encouraged him to go and after a week or so of pestering, Aizawa agreed.

Of course Yagi told him nothing about his own summer plans, and some deep part of Aizawa worried. Cracks were beginning to show in Yagi's smile, and Aizawa couldn't help but fear his only friend was going to be very lonely. He had tried to bring up the concern, but Yagi waved it off with a smile as he always did. Still, he couldn't shake his growing unease.

“Hey. Can I sit next to you?”

Aizawa looked over his shoulder at Yagi who stood there with two coffees in hand. “Since you brought the proper sacrifice, I'll allow it.”

The two of them sat on that roof ledge for hours talking about everything under the sun. Aizawa finally felt more comfortable talking with Yagi, but the latter student still took up the bulk of the conversation. Aizawa listened intently, memorizing every detail of Yagi he could from the sound of his voice, to the way he moved his hands as he spoke. He needed to capture all he could, imprinting Yagi in every corner of his mind.

As the sun began to set, a comfortable silence fell between them. Aizawa rested one of his hands in the space between them, right beside Yagi's own. Slowly, their hands got closer and closer. Fingers moving together. Almost touching.

“Aizawa?”

“Yes, Yagi?”

“I have something to tell you.”

Aizawa tilted his head towards his friend. “Yes?”

Yagi stared at him for a moment, searching Aizawa's eyes for something. Aizawa did the same. Both of them trapped in an ‘almost.’ Their fingers touched for a moment, than Yagi pulled his hand back. “Um, it's nothing. Nevermind.”

*****
Although he would never admit it, Aizawa actually enjoyed the time with his dad in Europe. He spent a great deal of the trip wandering cities on his own, seeing sights and hearing sounds a normal tourist wouldn't. He wanted to know the nooks, the hidden little spots. Everything. When he wasn't wandering around, he spent his time on a bench, or a ledge, or a tree deep in thought, sketchbook in hand. And his thoughts almost always went to Yagi.

What was he doing? Was he staying busy? Did he have someone else to pester? Would he still want to spend time with Aizawa once school started again? These questions haunted him for while he was certain Yagi could live without him, he wasn't sure he could live without Yagi.

In all those thoughts, when concerns were brushed aside, he imagined what it would feel like to be near Yagi again. To feel his body against his own. Fingers intertwined. He filled pages of his sketchbook with those hands. Hands combing through his hair, pushing him closer until their lips would meet. Hands tracing down his body. Hands learning how he wanted to be touched.

He drew pictures of Yagi's bright smile, the look in his eyes when he had accidently straddled him in the hall. The way he tugged on his hair, the sadness he tried to bury. The mask he wore. Their final afternoon together. He went over the moment again and again, desperate to find any hint about what Yagi wanted to say. What he was going to do. It was driving him crazy. Caring, especially caring about Yagi, would certainly be the death of him.

The summer months passed by quicker than he realized and Aizawa returned home with his father. He tried to find Yagi's information when he got back, but realized that he never had asked for his address or his phone number. He had to wait another two desperately lonely weeks before classes began to see him again.

On the first day of class, Aizawa rose early. Partly due to excitement, partly because the changes to his look required extra time. He wanted to look a perfect disaster when Yagi saw him again.

Aizawa began by putting all his piercings back in. He added a few over the break, one for each country they visited. His dad worried they were getting a bit excessive, but Aizawa merely brushed his concerns away. A friend of his dad in Amsterdam helped him master smudged eyeliner and he went to work making sure he had it perfectly imperfect as he glided the pencil across his eyelines. His hair was even longer now, less tame than it had ever been before. He teased it slightly for volume, but otherwise let it fall as it wanted to.

His lanky form was starting to fill out in all the places it needed to so his shirts fit a little tighter than before which he used as an excuse to leave his top few buttons undone again. His tie remained a loose knot, hanging askew across his chest. He still wore his belts, but decided against wearing his pocket chains this year. He replaced his bracelets with some thin leather straps stamped with various ominous iconography. He slipped on a giant fire opal ring on his left index finger, and an onyx one on his right. And to complete the look he put on his heavy silver cross. Before leaving, he grabbed one last thing. A tiny lavender colored chain he found in some place in Greece. He slipped it on around his neck, under his cross.

He checked himself out one last time, grabbed his lunch from the counter, said goodbye to his dad, and Aizawa was off.

Aizawa ignored the glares people were giving him as he made his way towards the school building. Whispers again about how he dressed and how dare he defile his uniform like that. He brushed them aside. He was too busy searching around for Yagi. As he rounded one of the last corners on his trek, he heard heavy footsteps coming towards him. His heart practically leapt into his throat, butterflies in his stomach. He knew those steps anywhere.

“Aizawa! Hey! Wait up!” Yagi called out.

Aizawa turned on his heel, ready as he would ever be to see his muse. What greeted him was not the same starry eyed boy he knew. Yagi was now a handsome, vibrant young man. He felt his breath hitch as he just stared at him.

Yagi had grown up in every way. He stood a few inches taller now, definitely surpassing anyone in the school. His gangly limbs and slender chest now rippled with tight muscles which were barely contained in his uniform. His jaw was wider and his eyebrows more pronounced. Aizawa would hardly have known it was Yagi if it weren't for those baby blue eyes, navy glasses, and noonday sun smile

“Aizawa. Long time no see!” Yagi said, coming to an abrupt stop right in front of him. “Digging the upgrades to your look. Piercings, some more makeup. And is that a hint of lavender around your neck?”

Aizawa touched the chain around his neck. “Yeah, and?”

Yagi held his hand up to his mouth, chuckling. “I thought you said lavender is a hideous color.”

“Shove off, Yagi.” He rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but feel a little flattered Yagi noticed.

“Did you get any tattoos while you were gone? Doesn't look like you have any from here.” Yagi looked him up and down, walking all around him as if he were a doctor examining a patient.

“Maybe you just can't see them.” Aizawa huffed.

Yagi craned his neck so he was nearly face to face with Aizawa. “Than maybe you should show me sometime.” Yagi winked. Unlike all the other times he said something so outlandish, Yagi didn't blush. Didn't stammer. The sheepish kid he knew would have tried and failed to be so bold. But perhaps that changed over these last few months. Yagi now stood strong, confident, oozing with charisma which Aizawa had not prepared himself for. It awoke in him a latent desire for closeness. A hunger for touch. And he knew that maybe, perhaps, Yagi felt the same.

Aizawa struggled to think of a response, any response, but the only thing that escape his lips was a groan. Aizawa silently cursed himself, watching as Yagi smirked before breaking into deep, body shaking laughter. He slapped a hand down on Aizawa's shoulder.

“I missed you, Aizawa.”

Aizawa pushed Yagi's hand away, his face a little flush. “I missed you too...dumbass.”

*****
Yagi was busier than ever in their second year. He not only joined track and field on top of his other responsibilities, he also was vying to become student body president. Much of his time was consumed with making connections in order to achieve this goal. He had friends scattered across every clique, club, and classroom. Yet, much to his relief, Aizawa still remained a priority. His fears of being cast aside and forgotten were left by the wayside as Yagi showed up every single day for lunch without fail, a bright big smile on his face and a coffee for Aizawa always in hand.

During one of those lunches later in the year, Aizawa found himself curious as to why Yagi seemed so determined to become class president. “Why do you even care about this kind of stuff anyways? You know school elections are pointless popularity contests which have little consequential value in the day to day lives of our classmates.”

“I want to help others.” Yagi confessed, picking at his rice again like he usually did whenever he was deep in thought.

“By kissing asses and going to boring meetings? Doesn't sound like the ‘best’,” Aizawa made air quotes with his fingers, “use of your time. You already have enough on your plate as it is. Why keep yourself even busier?” He reached over Yagi and pulled out a carrot from his bento. Yagi tried to grab it back, but Aizawa already chomped it in half, smirking triumphantly. His joy was short lived, however, when Yagi reached out with his mouth and bit into the other half, his lips and tongue gently touching Aizawa's fingertips. A rush of desire filled him, nearly knocking him backwards. His mouth was agape as he stared at Yagi for such a brash act.

“Don't steal my food.” Yagi exclaimed. A piece of orange clung to his bottom lip as he backed out of Aizawa's personal space.

Summoning every ounce of his courage, or stupidity, he wasn't sure which, Aizawa reached over and wiped the crumb off, his thumb grazing Yagi's mouth, lingering a bit longer than was necessary before moving away. “Don't eat like a dysfunctional rabbit then.”

Yagi licked his lips, his cheeks burning red. “Ai..A..Aizawa..”

There he is. There is that stammering 16 year old kid Aizawa missed over break. Guess he wasn't totally full of himself after all. “Sorry, there was some of my carrot stuck to your lips.”

Yagi laughed. “Your carrot? You mean the one you stole.”

Aizawa shrugged. “Can't steal what I already own.”

Yagi tugged on one of his bangs and Aizawa watched as the kid's feet started tapping with nervous energy. He looked ready to say something, but every time he opened his mouth he quickly closed it.

The silence grew to be even too uncomfortable for Aizawa. He tucked his legs underneath him and stretched his arms out, placing them behind his head. “Soo...what were you saying about being student body president?”

“Oh, oh yeah.” Yagi stopped moving, “I think I can do some real good here. Change some things around here so that all students can feel welcome. Establish peace and order across all years. That sort of stuff.” Yagi adjusted his glasses. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It can be.” Aizawa started, looking at Yagi from out of the corner of his eye. “But I mean, who am I to judge? I am the weird goth kid who doesn't give a fuck about popularity or helping the school. So long as I do my work, and I get left the fuck alone, that’s all that matters. The only person I care about here is you anyways. And... I guess if being president makes you happy, I support you or whatever.”

“Aizawa. That may be the nicest thing you have ever said to me. Who knew you were such a softy.” Happy tears formed in the corners of Yagi's eyes. Aizawa blushed slightly, feeling a warmth growing in his chest. The faintest hint of his real smile, soft and genuine, formed on his lips.

“If you want, I would even be willing to help make stupid signs for your campaign...”

Yagi sat up straight. “You don't have to do that. I am just gonna throw them together at my apartment. I will be fine on my own.”

Aizawa furrowed his brow. “You know me, Yagi. I don't offer shit like this unless I mean it. I’m an artist. My skills aren't cheap and I’m offering them free of charge.”

Yagi continued to protest. “No way.”

“Yagi, are you listening? I want to help you. Me. Aizawa ‘doesn't give a fuck’ Shouta.” He shifted his body a bit closer to Yagi, looking him square in the eyes, “let me help. Let's do it this Saturday after classes. We can make a night of it.”

Panic filled Yagi's azure eyes. “You really don't want to. Trust me. My apartment is kinda far away. My neighbors are noisy. We don't really have any spare bedding or food and there isn't much to do there an-”

“I already decided I’m coming over. I do what I want and you know not even you can stop me when I make up my mind.”

Yagi bit his lip. “Aizawa, please. You have so many better things to do than help me.”

“Tch. You are my best friend. It’s only reasonable to help you since you put up with me all the time.”

Yagi stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Aizawa prepared himself for further protests, when suddenly, Yagi lunged forward, the bento in his lap flying out and forgotten. He pulled Aizawa into his arms and squeezed him with all his strength, making Aizawa feel as though his eyes were about to pop out.“Best friend? I am your best friend?” Yagi pulled back slightly, his hands squeezing Aizawa's biceps with such force it would surely leave bruises.

Aizawa melted under his intense, expectant gaze. His facade crumbling into dust. He was unsure of how to respond, but slowly he raised his shaking hands and clasped Yagi's arms in return. “Yeah, I mean it. But take it as a grain of salt. You’re my only friend too, remember.”

*****

Yagi tried a few more times to convince him to not come over, but Aizawa refused to relent. Yagi needed him and no amount of pushing him away was going to work. Aizawa could handle whatever hardships, whatever struggle Yagi was going through at home. He was determined to be there for him, even if Yagi didn't realize he needed him to be yet.

Aizawa waited for Yagi outside the school gates after the final bell rang on Saturday. In one hand he carried a small black duffle bag filled with his makeup, pajamas, and a change of clothes. In the other was a plastic bag filled with containers of food and some drinks his father sent with him along with the charge to make sure they both ate.

He shifted on his heels as he waited, frustrated that Yagi seemed to be taking longer than normal. Maybe he had chickened out and snuck out of the school another way? He certainly was tall enough now to scale the wall if he wanted to.

Just when he was about to give up, Yagi finally appeared. He dragged his feet, shoulders hunched over and eyes firmly focused on the ground in front of him. His bangs shielding part of his face from Aizawa's view.

“You really don't need to do this, Aizawa. I’m fine on my own. I promise.” His words were barely above a whisper.

“Yagi...” Aizawa set his bags down. Standing on the balls of his feet, he reached out and stuffed Yagi's bangs behind his ears. Yagi looked at him, searching his eyes. “I know you’re scared to show me this part of you. But trust me, there is nothing in your life that would scare me away. I want to help you, and not just with those dumb posters. I let you into my world. Let me in yours.”

Yagi remained silent for a moment before slowly nodding his head. “Okay…”

Aizawa picked up the bag filled with food and handed it to Yagi than scooped up the rest of his things. “Alright. Lead the way, future president Yagi Toshinori.”

Aizawa couldn't help but notice how much nicer the apartments were getting as they made their way down busy streets and through narrow alleyways. Expensive shops and new apartment buildings were everywhere. Businessmen in fancy cars dotted the the sidewalks and parking areas.

Aizawa found himself following Yagi into one of the nicest buildings there. It was a black building with a giant open lobby. The security guard waved at Yagi, who smiled and waved back, his mask back on for a time.

The two of them got into the nicest elevator Aizawa had ever seen, and he struggled to maintain his cool exterior. He knew Yagi was well off, but this was a next level of rich.

Yagi stepped out of the elevator first and motioned for Aizawa to follow.

“Well, here it is.” Yagi pointed to a nondescript black door with a gold number ‘15’ hanging on it. His hands started shaking as he pulled out his key. It took a few tries for him to finally get it into the lock. Yagi held the door open for Aizawa, his eyes trained on the floor in front of him.

Aizawa cautiously entered. He wasn't sure what he expected, but a bare apartment with few furnishings wasn't it. No family pictures hung on the wall. There were no extra pairs of shoes at the entrance. No coats hung by the door. There were a few shelves with books and what looked like a couch, but Aizawa saw no indication in Yagi's apartment of anything resembling family. It felt foreign. Sterile. Devoid of color or life or anything. It didn't suit Yagi at all.

“Yagi, are you sure this is your place?” Aizawa blurted out without thinking.

“It's, uh, it's my grandfather's apartment.”

“You live with your grandpa?” He turned towards the entryway and felt his heart drop. Yagi was looking down at his feet, gripping the straps of his backpack so tightly his knuckles changed color.

“I live alone.” Yagi whispered. Aizawa furrowed his brow.

“Why?”

Yagi bit his bottom lip and Aizawa watched as his broad shoulders began shake. “I'm sorry. It's just...I know it doesn't feel like home.”

Aizawa walked towards his friend, placing steady hands carefully on Yagi's quaking shoulders, startling the kid who turned to look up at him, tears already streaking down his face. Aizawa wasn't good with words, at least not the ones he knew Yagi needed right now. But he hoped his actions would be enough.

He cautiously pulled Yagi into his embrace. Yagi gasped, then sank into Aizawa's arms. He dug his face into Aizawa's neck and let his tears flow freely while Aizawa rocked him back and forth.

“Hey, shhh. It's okay Yagi. I am here.”

They stayed there at the entrance to the apartment for awhile. Aizawa continued to whisper little words of comfort and encouragement, while Yagi let all his emotions spill out. Aizawa knew there was more to the story than simply living alone, but now was not the time to ask.

Yagi finally let out his final whimper, his body exhausted from the emotional outburst. “I'm sorry, Aizawa. I didn't mean to do that.” He pointed at the giant wet patches where his tears soaked through Aizawa's uniform.

Aizawa shrugged. “The uniform looks better this way anyways.”

Yagi chuckled softly. “You really hate that thing, don't you?”

“Of course I do. This navy monstrosity should never have seen the light of day. It is god awful and represents society's enforcement of conformity over individuality.”

Yagi started laughing even harder, falling back onto the floor. “Aizawa, you are really funny. You know that.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes. “A real laugh riot.”

Aizawa looked down at Yagi sprawled beside him. Even with tear steaks still visible, and his hair disheveled, Yagi was unquestionably handsome. Aizawa felt his heart begin to flutter as he remembered the warmth of their bodies together while he soothed him, the feel of his breath against Aizawa's neck and the smell of his shampoo. He shouldn't, but he found himself entirely entranced by Yagi.

“We should probably get to work.” Yagi said, stretching out his long frame before standing up. He held out his hand and helped Aizawa to his feet.

“Yeah...I guess so.”

*****
“Glitter? What are you, seven?” Aizawa leaned over the poster Yagi was working on. The lettering was crued, and the glitter Yagi used only seemed to make it less legible.

“Says the guy drawing purple flowers.” Yagi poked him in the side with his elbow.

“Lavender.” Aizawa huffed, annoyed that his art was being judged by the kid who thought glitter is an art medium.

“What?”

Aizawa pointed with his brush at the little floral decorations on his poster. “These are sprigs of lavender. Like the color of your hideous scarf.”

“If it is so hideous than why didn't you give it back?” Yagi teased, pouring even more glitter on his poster, making the A in ‘Yagi’ look more like a hot pink arrowhead than a letter.

Aizawa continued painting. “Because you gave it to me.”

Yagi paused, smiling to himself. Aizawa caught his grin out of the corner of his eye. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because,” Yagi adjusted his glasses, “you put a lot of thought into that. It is really sweet. You really are a big softy.”

Aizawa groaned, reaching for the container of black paint. He dipped his brush in and started painting cobwebs in the corners beside the lavender.

“Aizawa! No! That is too scary. It will freak people out.”

“Rule by fear, President Yagi. It is easier to be feared than loved.” Aizawa started laughing.

“So cute.”

Aizawa stopped and turned to see Yagi covering his face with his hand, eyes sparkling with joy. “What is cute?”

“Your laugh. I have never heard it before. I thought it would sound more evil, but it is like a deep husky dog sound.”

Aizawa glared at him, shooting daggers from his mind. “I am not cute! I am terrifying!”

“Yeah, terrifyingly cute.” Yagi snickered. Aizawa had enough. Dipping his brush in black paint again, he swiped it across Yagi's forehead.

“Hey! Not fair” Yagi grabbed a glitter container. An all out paint and glitter fight commenced for several minutes until both boys collapsed into a giant heap on the floor next to each other, laughing and smiling without a care in the world.

“Yagi, go shower. You look like you banged a glitter fairy.”

“And you dont? Your hair is practically a glitter bomb.” Yagi reached out and grabbed one final handful of glitter off the floor and tossed it onto Aizawa.

“You motherfucker. I will kick your ass!”

Before Aizawa could get up, Yagi was already on his feet. He made it into the bathroom door just as Aizawa got to his feet.

“Sorry, Aizawa. Kick my ass another time!”

*****

Aizawa hopped into the shower after Yagi, tempted to cover him in glitter as they changed places, but ultimately deciding he would get his revenge on a different day.

Aizawa wiped all the makeup off his face than meticulously took out every single piercing he had, placing them inside a ziplock bag he had brought just for the occasion. He slipped off both of his necklaces and bracelets next, shed his clothing, and stepped under the warm shower water. It felt so nice standing there, allowing his mind to wander. Yagi lived alone and likely was the only one who used this shower.

And he was just in here. Naked. Aizawa fought the rush of feelings as he imagined his friend in here. The curves of his muscles. The water dripping down every part of him. He thought of his own fingertips following water droplets across tan skin

Aizawa ran his fingers over his face, slapping himself out of his seductive trance. He flipped the water to the coldest setting, forcing the pain to push him out of those thoughts. ‘Yagi Toshinori. You are killing me.’

Aizawa changed quickly, slipping into his boxers and a bright pink pair of jogging pants. He slung the towel around his shoulders, picked up his things, and sauntered towards Yagi's bedroom. As he pushed open the door, he saw Yagi sitting on the bed cross legged, wearing an oversized superhero shirt and boxers, nose buried inside a book. His glasses were pushed up high on his head making his bangs stand up slightly, almost as if they were bunny ears.

“Yo.” Aizawa called out. Yagi turned his head towards him, pulling his glasses down to see him.

“Wow.” Yagi's jaw dropped, his eyes scanning up and down Aizawa’s fit form.

“What?” Aizawa asked, maneuvering around the room to set the bag of his jewelry down on the side table by the bed.

“N-nothing. I didn't think you owned anything in color.”

Aizawa started running the towel through his hair. “My dad bought me these. I only wear them when I am staying away from home.”

“So you don't normally wear pink pants to bed every night.”

“I don't wear anything to bed normally.“

Yagi started coughing. His whole body shook, making the mattress quake underneath him. Aizawa let the towel fall from his hands. “Whoa. Yagi, are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” He said, blushing red from the neck up. He adjusted his glasses which had gone askew during his coughing fit and tugged at the hem of his shirt, twisting it between his fingers. “Hey, didn't you say you had a tattoo?”

Aizawa looked down at his bare chest, his left eyebrow raised. “I never said that. I just said there wasn't one you could see. You can't see it because it doesn't exist...yet.”

“You teased me for nothing?” Yagi pouted like a child who just learned their parent lied to them about the tooth fairy.

Aizawa crossed his arms over his chest. “All's fair in love and war, as they say.”

“Well THEY clearly haven't seen you shirtless.”

“I can put something on if that helps.” He reached for one of the various shirts Yagi had strewn across the bedroom floor, none of them looking appealing to wear as they all were in bright colors with silly catchphrases on them.

Yagi fervently shook his head. “No. Your fine…no I mean I'm fine. It's fine. Everything is fine. Woo doggy. I sure am sleepy all of a sudden.” He faked a yawn, stretching his arms high above his head than falling down against his pillows.

There was something exciting about making Yagi all flustered like that, seeing his confidence from earlier erode into crimson blushes and stuttered words. Aizawa managed to remain calm, but when Yagi looked over his body, drinking in his form, it made his stomach tie in a million knots. The rush from the shower came back into him with full force. Yagi had seen what he had, but Aizawa had yet to unravel the mystery of Yagi's body. Would it be as he imagined, as he had drawn it?

With a sigh, Aizawa pushed his desires aside and set to work rolling out the bright yellow futon Yagi prepared for him, making sure to fluff the hard old pillow he was given before settling in.

The room grew still as the two boys tried their best to fall asleep. Everytime Aizawa's eyes started to droop, he would hear Yagi make some noise and return to the waking world.

“Yagi, you are so loud.” He grumbled, wrapping his head with the pillow in an attempt to drown out the noise.

“Sorry. I can't sleep.”

Aizawa lifted himself onto his elbow, his eyes peeking just above the edge of the bed. “Why not?”

Yagi rolled over to face him, squinting to try to see him since his glasses were on the nightstand. “Aizawa. Can I ask you a question?”

Aizawa blinked at him and said dryly, “Sure.”

Yagi took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he began. “What happened to your mom?”

Aizawa furrowed his brow. This was not a door he expected to open. His mother held a special, sacred part of his heart. Talking about her was painful to him. It was too close. Too fresh. He built up hundreds of walls because of what happened to her. Walls so thick that no one had dared to even breach them. Except for Yagi. He smashed through every single one of them as of they were made of paper. And he had let him. Up until now.

Perhaps he could let him smash that final wall.

“She died.”

“How did she die?”

“She was sick...for a very long time.” Aizawa's voice started to tremble. “My dad did his best to take care or her, took her to all the best doctors, but mom's body just wasn't strong enough.”

Yagi paused for a moment, Aizawa's words sinking in. “Do you miss her?”

Aizawa bit his lip, all air leaving his lungs. His heart aching in his chest. This was the darkest saddest part of him that he hadn't even fully dealt with. But if he couldn't share this piece of his heart with Yagi, than how could he ever hope to give him all of it.

“I do. I miss her everyday. But it's been a long time now...a really long time.”

Yagi looked lost in thought for a moment, a sadness spread across his face. It wasn't an expression of pity, but one of pure pain. An expression of complete mutual understanding. Realization struck Aizawa. Maybe Yagi knew exactly how he felt. Maybe his friend wasn't so different from him after all.

One of Yagi's hands laid close to the edge of the bed. Aizawa looked at it, than at his friends face. Carefully and cautiously, forgetting his own heartache, he reached out and laced their fingers together, giving his hand a comforting gentle squeeze. It was their first truly intimate touch. The first breach of the thin barrier between their friendship and their potential, and to Aizawa's relief, Yagi did not pull away.

“Shouta…”

Aizawa blushed at the sound of his first name. “Where do you keep going in your thoughts? Wherever it is...you can trust me, Yagi.”

“M-my mom died too. Just before orientation...”

‘Oh.’ It all clicked into place. The hidden sorrow swirling in the blue oceans of his eyes. The pristine plastic smile holding up the weight of a crushed little boy who longed for a mother who wouldn't return. Aizawa knew that feeling all too well. The long nights of wanting comfort from the one person who could no longer wipe the tears away.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Yagi's fingers tensed up, curling into Aizawa's palm. Nails digging slightly into his flesh. “Do you ever stop missing her?” He asked, his eyes pleading for an answer.

Aizawa rubbed gentle circles into Yagi's hand with his thumb, shaking his head. “No, unfortunately I don't think you can stop missing anyone you love when they are gone.”

Yagi whimpered, his tears sliding down his cheeks and onto his mattress. Aizawa felt the vibrations of his sorrow through his trembling fingers.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was Yagi's cries. It shattered Aizawa to hear them. His sunshine was hurting, and he needed to do something to help him. Anything.

“My mom loved flowers.” He started, “She kept them all over the house. Her favorites were sunflowers. Big, bright, bold sunflowers that followed the sun as it shined through the window. When she died, we had vases filled with them. For weeks after the funeral the whole place smelled like sunflowers until they died too. I used to hate that scent because it reminded me of her.” Yagi stared at him his cries silenced as he listened intently.

“But then I met a boy who smelled like sunflowers. One who reminded me of her warmth. Her goodness. This kid with piercing azure eyes and a smile that holds up the sun. A boy who followed me around like a lost little puppy. And suddenly, a sad thing wasn't sad anymore. I began to look forward to smelling sunflowers again. They still remind me of her, but now it feels like she sent him to me. The sunflower smell was her way of helping me find him. I love the smell now because it means he is here. Beside me. Right now.”

Through the thin strips of moonlight coming through the window, Aizawa watched Yagi's sorrow slip into realization. “Me? I make you happy?”

Aizawa pushed himself up with his free hand, leaning in closer until his body was halfway onto the mattress. Only inches separating their faces now. “Of course you do. You are like precious priceless sunshine to me, Toshinori.”

They searched eachothers eyes, the same way they did when they almost held hands on the room or almost kissed on the floor outside his bathroom at home.

“I want to kiss you so badly right now.” Yagi let slip out, his eyes focused on Aizawa's lips.

That was all the push Aizawa needed. Sun met the moon. Light swirled with darkness. Lips brushed lips for the first time and all the world suddenly stilled. It was chaste and sweet. Neither of them experienced enough to move it forward just yet. They let themselves hang there, enveloped in this new taste. This new sensation.

Aizawa started to pull back, but Yagi followed him, practically rolling off his bed as he pushed for more and more kisses. Desire flooded them both, hearts pounding in rhythm as lips desperately inspected every inch of their perfect match.

Aizawa pushed against Yagi's chest, sending him back onto the bed, joining him quickly as their make out session continued

Yagi reached out greedy hands and pulled Aizawa underneath him. He traced kisses down his neck causing Aizawa to moan. He tried to cover them up with his hand, but Yagi moved it away. “I like hearing you sound so happy.” He muttered as he began to leave marks down Aizawa's neck.

Their lips met together again. A few more passionate kisses passing between them. Yagi started to pull his shirt off, but Aizawa held it down.

“Wait,” He said practically out of breath. “Yagi, wait. We need to stop. This is too much too fast.”

Yagi let his shirt go and fell onto the mattress beside Aizawa. He nodded, still trying to catch his own breath. “You are right. Sorry. I get a little over enthusiastic sometimes.”

Aizawa rolled his eyes, pulling Yagi in for another quick kiss before settling in against his side.

Aizawa started to feel himself drift off to sleep inside Yagi's embrace. It felt warm and welcoming. Something new and familiar. Yagi drew lazy circles into his back and the last thing he heard before slipping into his dreams was Yagi saying, “I think I might like you.”

*****
The next morning, Aizawa woke up in a cold bed. He looked all around at the unfamiliar room, but no blue eyes found his. No blonde hair peaked out of any corner.

“Toshinori?” He called out. No one answered.

‘Where did he go?’ Aizawa wondered. He quickly changed out his pajamas and into a pair of tight black corduroy pants, a black tank top, and a nearly see through mesh sweater with the words “Future corpse” splashed across the front. He put all his jewelry on as well, but didn't bother with his hair or makeup cutting his getting ready time to about five minutes that day.

He swiftly shoved his pajamas and everything else he brought with him into duffle and made his way down the hall towards Yagi's kitchen. The blonde was seated at the counter, still in his pajamas, sipping on a cup of tea. He turned around slowly and waved. “Good morning, Aizawa.”

Aizawa set his bag by the door than took the seat beside Yagi. A fresh cup of coffee was there waiting for him. He raised the glass, his own way of saying good morning, and took a few sips. “Mmm. Thanks for the much needed sacrifice after such an exhausting night.”

Yagi didn't respond. Aizawa wanted to reach out and touch Yagi, but some warning bell in his mind stopped him. Yagi was unusually quiet. It was off putting.

Should he bring up what happened last night? Was what happened okay? Aizawa had never kissed anyone before. He shifted in his seat, anxiety over taking him as he imagined the million things he could have done wrong.

Aizawa didn't know what their relationship was at this point. He didn't have any answers. But the cold shoulder Yagi was giving him couldn't be a good sign. Maybe Yagi had just used him for comfort last night. It was a meaningless kiss to him. It stung to even consider that.

‘Yagi would never use me like that. Never.’

Aizawa finished his coffee in silence. Yagi never once looked over at him nor did he reach out to reassure him with a touch. It was now all so much more confusing.

“Toshinori, is everything okay?”

Yagi turned towards him, a forced smile on his face. “Yeah...it's just,” he sighed, “it's nothing. I have some stuff to take care of today for clubs and student council so I am going to need to get ready. Sorry.”

Aizawa felt a bitter sting im his chest, and slowly got up from his seat. He made his way towards the door, pausing for a moment to turn around and look at Yagi one last time “I guess I'll be going then. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you later.”

*****
Yagi stopped coming to lunches after that. At first, Aizawa reasoned with himself it was because Yagi was so busy. But days turned into weeks then into months. He barely even saw Yagi at all during that Winter, but still he clung to hope. Yagi wasn't the kind of person to just use something and throw it away. He cared. He had to care.

Aizawa even wore the atrocious scarf Yagi gave him during the bitter cold winter days. He hoped Yagi would notice it, maybe even smile at him when he saw it. But no blue eyes searched for him. No blonde hair came into his view. Yagi Toshinori, his first love, had slipped through his fingers.

Winter left. Spring came. But unlike the new beginnings it used to promise, this season brought only bitter rain and loneliness. Aizawa's hope was gone. In its place was a growing ache. A broken heart, shattered in more ways than Aizawa thought would be possible. Yagi did what everyone else does to him. In fact, he did far worse. Instead of just outright hating him, instead of just ignoring him or mocking him behind his back,Yagi made him believe he cared, made him believe in love, and then took his heart and crushed it into a million little pieces. Even if he didn't mean to. Even if he did it in ignorance. He did it all the same.

Aizawa's sketchbook became his only escape. His only space to rid himself of his ridiculous obsession with this boy. He convinced himself that if he could just draw Yagi enough, write enough poetry, push all of his feelings out than maybe, just maybe he could go back to his old, hardened self. Eyes drawn in dark hues. Dull and lifeless expressions. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't draw Yagi the way he wanted. The way that made him look cold, cruel, and calculating. He couldn't draw a Yagi to push away because, deep down, he didn't want to push any Yagi away.

*****
Yagi won the election by a landslide and suddenly his face was everywhere. Everyone either wanted to be his friend, or bang him. Or both. School became an even worse nightmare for Aizawa. He had no respite for his hurt. No way to cope with it as Yagi's presence loomed everywhere, like a shadow.

The first time they came face to face after the election was when Yagi accidentally collided with him as he tried to back away from the hordes of students clamoring for his attention.

As he turned around to apologize, his eyes went wide with shock. “Aizawa…”

Aizawa scowled at him in return, shoving him away and stomping past him, cutting right through the growing crowd. He said nothing. A few students called out for him to apologize, but Aizawa flipped them off, heading down the hallway towards his class for the day, heart thundering in his chest, desperately screaming to go back. To go talk to Yagi. Of course, he didn't do that. His mind already knew Yagi didn't care. He was non committal make out to him, a notch on his belt, and nothing more.

“Aizawa, wait up!” Yagi called after him.

It was the first of many times he called out at the end of that school year. Aizawa grew increasingly frustrated with Yagi's attempts to connect with him. As much as he missed the sunshine in his life or blue eyes discovering him, the taste of lips or the feel of gentle caresses, he never turned back around to face Yagi. Never turned around to hear what he had to say.

Aizawa's heart was too broken, and he wasn't willing to mend it again.

As per tradition, Aizawa went up to the rooftop on the final afternoon of classes. He planned to be alone this time, but familiar steps moved towards him.

“Hello, Mr. President.” Aizawa said dryly, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and putting it in between his lips “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“When did you start smoking?”

“Since when did you start giving a shit what I do?”

“Aizawa, please don't be like this.” Yagi frowned. Aizawa pulled out his lighter, taking carefully measured movements to light it. He blew one puff into Yagi's face causing him to grimace.

“Be like what?” His said, his expression controlled.

“Like this. I know I've been busy, but you don't need to shut me out like this. I haven't even gotten the chance to talk to you in weeks. Everytime I try to find you, you’re gone.”

Aizawa grunted before taking another puff. He blew the smoke out slowly this time. “That isn't my problem.”

Yagi stomped over to him, pulling the cigarette from his lips, tossing it on the ground and stomping on it. “Stop smoking and just listen to me, will you?”

Aizawa's blood started to boil. “Listen to you? Listen? All I fucking do is listen to you. I have listened to you for two damn years!” He growled, his eyes filled with fury and fire.

Yagi stumbled backward. “Shouta…”

Aizawa shook with rage. “Don't you dare say my name. Not after what you did. You used me,” he pointed at his chest, hot tears starting to form in his eyes. “You are just like them. Like all of them. You don't give a shit about me. You used my friendship, my time, my heart. Just... fuck you, Yagi. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Aizawa started for the door, but Yagi blocked his path, his arms outstretched. “Come on, man. You’re my best friend. I know I screwed up, but we can talk it out.”

“Like how we talked about making out that night? Oh wait, no we didn't because you were too busy to talk for months. Too busy to tell me fuck all about it. I waited for you. For weeks I waited for an answer. Anything from you. And nothing. And now you all of a sudden want to talk? Not gonna happen. Fuck you, Yagi Toshinori. Fuck you and this stupid fucking school. I’m done. Have a fantastic Summer. I hope I never see you again.” Aizawa ducked under Yagi's arms and ran. Ran down the stairs, out the school doors and as far away as his thin legs could carry, black streaks of tears falling down his cheeks.

Aizawa spent weeks alone in his room that Summer. His dark, lonely space with curtains drawn. He didn't want to see the sun again. Not after it had already vanished from his life, whether by its choice or his hubris.

He barely ate. He barely spoke. He wore no makeup. Didn't bother styling his hair. He just sunk into his bed, a mess of tears and heartache that nothing could soothe. His father did his best so soothe him, but even his efforts seemed wasted on his only child.

“I remember when your mom died.” Kamijo said from his seat on the corner of Aizawa's bed. “I felt like all the air in the world was sucked from my lungs. Like my entire world had slipped through my fingers. Losing someone you love is painful, Sho. And it is okay to mourn. It is okay to grieve. But you cannot live in it forever or it will break you.”

Aizawa curled in on himself. In his hands, pressed against his heart, was the lavender scarf. “I know dad. Just...give me time. Please.”

“I will. Take all the time you need. Just remember I’m here for you. I always will be.”

Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Over and over again he drew Yagi. He drew him looking out his window. He sketched him lying on the bed with him, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He tried to imagine what his Yagi would say. The old one who tried so desperately to get his attention. The one who cared for him.

‘God, I am going mad.’

*****
School started up again. Aizawa chose to keep an even lower profile than before, especially as his classmates honed in on the fact he and Yagi had been friends the previous years. They knew that and as the weeks went on, they realized they were no longer close. The teasing he experienced in previous years was nothing compared to the jeers he got now.

“How dare you even think you are worthy of Yagi? You are just a creepy, gross, loser.”

“You better stay away from our class president, or else.”

“I bet you used him to validate your own twisted desires, didn't you?”

There was no escape from them. Their words stabbed him deep in the heart, knowing exactly where to strike. Despite everything, despite trying to harden his heart, Yagi was his Achilles heel.

He didn't know how weak he was until his most sacred space, his sketchbook, was taken from his hands during a class break by one of his bullies.

He had tried to wrestle it back before they opened it, pleading with them to just let him be. But they didn't listen. One boy pulled out a pocket knife, cutting the thing thread holding it close. A girl opened it, screaming as she saw one of the rather lewd images he had drawn, and tossed it onto the floor. His classmates, like vultures, started to swarm.

Aizawa felt exposed as his notebook crashed to the floor, it's worn pages flying everywhere. His fellow classmates each started to laugh, pointing at his works then looking back at him. “God, you drew this? Someone is fucking obsessed with Yagi. Gross.” One of them exclaimed.

He tried so hard to be so careful with his feelings, so hard to keep up his facade even after Yagi broke him into a thousand pieces. But now everyone knew. They knew his desires. They knew his heart. His soul laid bare for the world to scrutinize. And he stood their, frozen in place.

His classmates loud laughter stopped students in the hall. One in particular slid open their door and came inside. “What's going on here?”

Aizawa panicked as he turned his head to see Yagi.

“Aizawa is in love with you.” One of the students exclaimed, handing Yagi the notebook. “He even thinks he kissed you. Pfft, as if that would ever happen.”

Yagi flipped through a couple of pages, his eyebrows furrowed. He looked over at Aizawa. Their eyes met. Every emotion slammed into his chest under that blue gaze, but what hurt the most was the deep regret, the sadness hidden in the ocean of Yagi's eyes.

Tears started to sting in the corners of Aizawa eyes. It didn't matter if Yagi pitied him. Yagi didn't care about him, not like that. And no amount of searching for rescue in those eyes would save him from this now.

“Aizawa?” Yagi called out to him. Aizawa shook his head. He needed to go. Escape. Be anywhere but here. Biting his lip he rushed towards the notebook, pulling it out of Yagi's grasp. He pushed past dozens of students, dashing down the hall and stumbling down the stairs. He heard Yagi call after him, but he didn't stop. He ran. He ran as far and as fast as his legs could carry him. Down the sidewalk and several alleyways. Each twist and turn getting him farther away. He ran until his lungs burned and his feet ached.

He finally collapsed against an old willow tree in some park he didn't even recognize. All his bottled up emotions spilled out of him, weighing him down. The burn from lack of oxygen. The sting of a broken shattered heart. The nakedness of having his feelings shown to the world. It was all too much. It hurt too much. His shoulders shook violently as loud, messy tears overtook him.

He slammed the sketchbook to the ground, digging his heel into it. Stomping it deeper and deeper into the dirt.

“Dammit” He screamed. “Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!” He fell to his knees, his hands in his hair practically pulling it out. He stayed there, sobbing for what seemed like an eternity when he heard the sound a twig snapping.

“Go away.” He snarled, hoping his venomous tone would be enough to scare the person away as he buried his face into his knees.

“No. I’m not leaving you alone again.”

Aizawa looked up. There, kneeling down in front of him, was Yagi. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone. What part of that don't you understand? Or did you come to make fun of me like all your friends just did? Laugh at the poor goth kid in love with the personification of perfection himself, President Yagi Toshinori.”

Yagi let out a deep sigh. He looked at Aizawa and then gazed around until his eyes fell onto the sketchbook, now barely holding together and covered in dirt. “I’m sorry about your sketchbook.”

Aizawa lifted his head up slightly and watched as Yagi picked the tattered thing up, dusting it off as if it were into something of any value. He picked up some of the stray papers which were torn out of it, carefully placing them back inside.

“You don't know this,” Yagi began, “but I have liked you from the moment I saw you in the gym. You stood out, and not just because of your looks. You didn't care if others liked you. You didn't care if anyone stood around you. Damn, you were so cool. I wanted to be like that so badly, to just not care at all. But I guess it isn't in my nature.”

Aizawa raised his head enough so his eyes were barely visible above his knees, listening.

“You are a lot stronger than I am.” Yagi began to fidget with a string hanging from the book in his lap. “I need to be liked. I need to be loved. I desperately need it to fill this void growing inside me. I've filled it with all sorts of things. Sports, student council, popularity. And not a single one of those things have ever made me feel as whole as I did when we kissed.”

Yagi looked over at him with a sad smile. “And I was so afraid to feel whole again. I didn't want to...” A few stray tears fell down his face. “Aizawa, I messed up. I failed you as a friend and as...as anything more we could have been. I tried to muster up the courage to talk to you, but it never came. God, I tried so hard. I am so sorry I pushed you away. If I could go back, if I could have jus-”

“You talk too much.” Aizawa mumbled.

Yagi tilted his head with a confused expression. “What?”

“It is obnoxious and exhausting the amount of words you say without saying a damn thing. You say more words in one speech than I say in whole weeks.”

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to talk so much I just get so ner-”

“Stop talking. Just stop.”

Yagi bit his lip and nodded.

“Thank fucking god.” Aizawa leaned his head against his knees, searching for the right words to say. Part of him wanted to scream at Yagi for all the pain he caused him. Rip his heart to shreds just as he had done to him. Shatter him into a thousand shards of glass.

But, as he snuck a peak at Yagi, knees in the dirt, shoulders slumped over, hands holding his sketchbook like it was the most valuable thing in the world...he realized he couldn't. No matter how hurt he was or the pain he endured, he still loved Yagi.

Aizawa let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding in. “Yagi. You've known me for over two years at this point so I am sure you know I don't let people close to me. I hate them and the feeling is generally mutual. The only thing I have ever loved, beside my dad, is my art. It has been my one escape. My only refuge from the storms. That sketchbook is a part of my soul. Everything I draw in there, every poem I write. It all means something incredibly personal. Only things that matter end up in there.”

Yagi fingers danced across the cover, carefully opening it to one of the many pages with his face inside. He gently touched along its outline almost worshipful. “I am that important to you, Aizawa?”

“Of course you are. Even when you broke my heart, I couldn't keep you out of my mind. And I fucking tried. But your face is branded on my soul and no matter how hard I try to carve you out, you just never go away.”

“Aizawa…”

Aizawa pushed himself away from the tree, perching on the balls of his feet. He leaned in close to Yagi's face. “Even now,” He whispered as he moved one of Yagi's bangs behind his ear, “laid bare and raw for the world to see, when I want to shrink into myself so badly, When I want to run. I cannot escape you. You haunt me, Yagi Toshinori. Fuck, I want you so badly.”

Aizawa leaned in and pressed his lips hard against the lips of his friend. Yagi whimpered, responding in kind, pulling Aizawa by the lapels, making any space between them disappear.

The world around them stopped. Nothing else existed but Yagi's moans, and Aizawa's lips. Their kisses were desperate, wild, filled with whispered apologies. Yagi ran his tongue along Aizawa's bottom lip, and Aizawa opened wider to let his lover explore. Their tongues danced, dueling for dominance.

“Aizawa, god I've missed you.” Yagi moaned. Aizawa ran fingers through Yagi's shaggy hair, tugging a little to elicit more sounds. Yagi pushed Aizawa down onto the ground and straddled his hips. He leaned down and left mark after mark down Aizawa's neck.

“I've missed you too.” Aizawa let out a contented sigh. Their bodies pressed together, feeling each other again. Exploring one another until their lungs cried for oxygen and their lips were bruised.

“Yagi, please don't leave me again. Promise me.”

“I promise.”
*****
The two of them walked back into school that day hand in hand. In fact, they did that every single day thereafter. Yagi kept his promise. He never left Aizawa's side, for better or worse of it all.

Weekdays were spent on the rooftop, stealing kisses under the sun. Weekends they found one another in each other's embrace. Aizawa had never been more grateful, or embarrassed, when his dad handed him protection. Passions rose. Words were whispered. Nights were filled with secret moments and stolen kisses that only the heavens knew about.

Aizawa become far less secretive about his sketching now that Yagi knew about his work. He even forced Yagi to pose for a few of them, usual the ones bathed in moonlight that were for his exclusive viewing pleasure.

Graduation fast approached them.

It was a day filled with celebration and goodbyes. Pictures were taken. Tears were shed. Aizawa's dad and Yagi's grandfather remained side by side during the ceremony, an artist and a businessman, sharing tissues and cameras. Both beaming with pride at their boys who worked so hard for their diplomas.

As the final families headed out and the school began to empty, Yagi asked if he could show Aizawa something. Aizawa nodded, and Yagi took him by the hand up to the school roof one final time.

Yagi wrapped his long arms around Aizawa's waist, pulling him close and kissing the top of his head. “Remember the first time we came up here together?”

“Together?” Aizawa scoffed. “You mean you stalked me like a crazy person, cornering me until I gave in.”

Yagi pouted. “Hey, you are really hot. Can you blame me for chasing you?”

Aizawa paused for a moment before shrugging. “I guess not.”

“As I was about to say before you interrupted, from the first time we met I just knew you were someone special. Someone I wanted to be around. Someone I wanted to be with forever.”

“Forever?” Aizawa looked up into Yagi's eyes, “You know that is a long time, right?”

“Of course I do. And I want to spend every second of it with you.” Yagi let him go and started kneeling. Aizawa felt a rush of panic flowing through him as he watched Yagi produce a little box from his pocket.

“Yes.”

Yagi frowned. “Let me ask the question first.”

“Why, the answer is what matters. Yes I want to spend every second of our lives together. Yes I want to live forever in your arms. Yes I want to-”

Yagi pressed a finger to his lips. “Now look who doesn't shut up.” Aizawa scowled at him, but remained silent.

“Okay good. Now, Aizawa Shouta, moon of my life. My artist. My wordsmith. Will you do me the honor of becoming my super sexy goth husband?” He opened the box. Inside was a thick silver band, tarnished to look older, with a tiny amethyst stone in the center, starburst pattern surrounding it.

Aizawa looked at the ring, then Yagi, and back.

“Well?”

“I already said yes.”

“You are hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with you, sunflower boy.”