Archive of Our Own

Shouta

Aizawa(-Yamada) Shouta loved gifts. Getting gifts, giving gifts, gift shopping, gift cards, baskets, candy– anything! Shouta felt pretty good about his love language, not to brag. He gave his husband, Yamada(-Aizawa) Hizashi, gifts remarkably often, to the point of filling their apartment with trinkets, curios, and tools that one or both of them will find some kind of use for. 

Most of the time it was something useful, like cookware, or a photo frame for Hizashi to display photos from past celebrations and heartening days in the sun or rain– one of Hizashi's love languages. 

Other times it was deemed impractical, like a bag of 100 plastic babies, or even a mug that spells 'Nonviable Message' when filled with a warm beverage, that he and Hizashi laughed about for a solid year until a rush through their apartment for the way to UA led to the joke mug shattering on the floor. Despite the ill-considered or idle uses for the wisecracking gag gifts, they were loved and greatly appreciated, especially when Hizashi takes into account how much Shouta must care to get a gift. 

Shouta once sobbed for an hour and a half when Hizashi decided to get his husband a gift instead of the other way around when Hizashi brought home their now elderly cat Casanova back before their spritely wedding eleven years ago. That turn of events is what led to Hizashi proposing– without a ring– with Shouta's impassioned reaction to the strongest form of affection he had ever seen. Shouta still looks back at that day and cries with pure bliss. 

But even with gifts aside, Shouta had a fantastic life– after enrolling in UA and meeting some lifelong friends (and even a future husband). His life before may or may not have sucked. 

He got his first tattoo at sixteen years old. A feather wrapping around his wrist. When asked– or interrogated, rather– he said it was supposed to represent freedom. Coincidentally, that was the same year he opened up about his past and family, and the year he got legally emancipated. Where was he staying? A local homeless shelter. Nemuri wasn't having that. 

And, then, he started his life with the Kayama family and was legally adopted less than a year later. So technically he was Aizawa-Kayama-Yamada Shouta, but he decided to keep his original last name when he was adopted, and he couldn't (shouldn't) take Hizashi's last name when they married, for security reasons. 

So "technically" he and Hizashi have each other's last names and introduce themselves as such more often than not, but on the off chance, a villain or a crazed radio stan on the hunt for Present Mic the Public Official's private life found it by way of security hacking. It had happened before. 

But that only began his tattoo adventure. He has a shit ton of them, spanning his arms, sides, back, and legs (knees and lower). He has intertwined wedding bands on the coracoid process area on his shoulder, and a cloud on his upper arm. He usually only got tattoos to represent a special process of his life, like his adoption (a seashell sleeve on his left upper arm, because Nemuri's mum had a siren Quirk), and the little ampersand on his neck (a signal to his journey through life, and transition), with a cute little butterfly on his shoulder above the shells to further emphasize his new identity as Aizawa(-Kayama-Yamada) Shouta, instead of the dreadful deadname his birth mother had given him. 

But that was a little less than important information as of late. Hizashi was sad, and Shouta didn't know why. He also didn't know how to help him feel better when Hizashi's forms of affection failed to bring him comfort. Not even cuddles and movie nights cured his bothersome agitation, and Shouta was getting worried. 

Hizashi was coming home later, and leaving earlier, drawing away from Shouta, even physically. 

How odd. 

Hizashi

Hizashi was down, depressed, distraught, another word that starts with D. Maybe it was just seasonal depression, but he bet it also had something to do with his most recent series of nightmares, about Hizashi somehow driving away the one person he truly loved. 

Maybe he was pulling away from Shouta, but he probably didn't notice. If he did, he didn't say anything about it. Hizashi didn't like it, he didn't want to, but these terrors felt an awful lot like one of the premonitions he used to get inconsistently as a child, and he was more than a little worried about the fate of their relationship. 

He took a few more patrol shifts and avoided classroom collaboration with Shouta as much as possible the last few weeks, and his husband and sister-in-law still hadn't commented on it. 

Maybe his behavior wasn't noticeable, which was good, because the point was to distance himself so he doesn't hurt Shouta because of his new partner. In one of his dreams, Shouta ended up hating him, and he hadn't been able to discern reality from the dreamed land of terror by the time he managed to wake up. It was around the time Shouta also drew back from his loving try-hards, and cute little attempts at trying to reestablish communication in their relationship. 

Not that Hizashi didn't want to speak to Shouta, quite the contrary! He loved his husband near and dearly, but the risk that Hizashi would, however unintentionally, make Shouta fall out of love was… terrifying, at the very least.

In one of the dreams, he hurt Shouta really bad, and Hizashi couldn't forgive himself for that. The knowledge that Dream Hizashi hurt him was too much for him to take. And also not that he wanted to hurt Shouta. He would rather die a thousand painful deaths than cause Shouta one. 

But there was nothing he could do. 

He thought back to his and Shouta's anniversaries, and all the fun that had with each one. The honeymoon and the first three anniversaries were abroad, in America, Australia, Brazil, and England respectively. Maybe the trip to England was an excuse for Hizashi to show Shouta where he grew up. 

Maybe. 

But he digresses. 

There was nothing to do to help achieve a good night's sleep, and a better solution than almost but not quite walking out on Shouta simply because he was scared. He just want to be hurt, and the vivid nightmares are becoming even more plausible, and have realistic, terrible ends to their relationship. 

In the end, he convinced himself that if he didnt act like himself, Shouta wouldn't want to leave him. He wouldn't go out and find that faceless partner, and return with documents of divorce. 

Was he a villain? Perhaps. But if there was one thing he wasn't, it was a person that mistreated their spouse. 

Anyways, Hizashi supposed he'd just have to stick with watching Shouta try hard and harder to get Hizashi to respond to any form of affection, playing along with sad eyes, and a heavy heart. He would have to stay on the sidelines as his beautiful husband worked to make him smile. 

When Shouta stopped initiating physical affection and started with gift-giving, Hizashi nearly crumbled. He wanted to cry, to plead, to break down and comfort Shouta when the strongest love he's ever known failed to fix Hizashi. But he didn't. 

He couldn't. 

He wouldn't. 

Shouta

Hizashi was sad, and that was terrible, because Shouta didn't know what to do when he was sad, and it was nearing two weeks since he started distancing himself from Shouta. He didn't know what to do at all anymore! He tried everything. All the things that used to make Hizashi laugh or smile weren't working and it was filling Shouta with unsettling dread. 

He tried baking cookies (big fail. Hizashi just became stressed about the unintentional mess Shouta had made. He tried setting up another movie night, with Disney's Treasure Planet, and a fuck ton of snacks and popcorn, but Hizashi started crying, and wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the night. He tried cuddles, good morning texts, and bed and breakfast, he tried kissing his cheek before and during work, and he tried putting everything in its place so Hizashi didn't have to worry about his home being disorderly, in case that was the problem. It wasn't. 

None, of, it, worked. 

When Hizashi's coping mechanisms and acts of love failed Shouta, he tried his own. 

He gave him a cacophony of fun objects with little to no purpose, and handmade cards that took hours of using gel pens to make, and Hizashi just smiled, accepted the gifts, and moved on with his unforthcoming behavior. 

Shouta was lonely, even though he wasn't alone. 

All he wanted was for things to go back to normal. He wanted Hizashi to start being bubbly and cheerful, clingy, and loving again. He wanted the structure in his life to come back, stay still, don't leave . Shouta hated being lonely. 

He wanted his husband back. 

But he felt like a child. His husband was right there, so what if his cold shoulder was starting to sting with frostbite, and snippy tones? So what if his obsessive cleanliness was driving Shouta to tears? So what if his husband's faults were somehow (however indirectly) Shouta's because that's what Hizashi was leading him to believe? 

He just needed a bit more time to figure it out. In the meantime, he's been thinking of a new tattoo. But what? 

He put a pin in both situations and picked up his phone when it played that ugly tune that he called a ringtone. That contact said 'sleep sister' and Shouta smiled with poorly concealed relief. At least he had someone to talk to. 

"Hey Nemuri," said Shouta, with fake cheer in his voice. It was realistic! Or so he believed. 

"Uh... What's up with you?" Shouta heard Nemuri's voice over the phone, and it was like he could feel the concern in her posture, and tone. 

"Nothing! I'm doing great!" He faltered. 

"Bro, no offense, but I can feel the bullshit. What's wrong?" 

"I just think something is up with Hizashi. He's been unapproachable and isolated the past couple of days, and nothing is working to get him to feel better," Shouta confessed, sighing into the phone with tears building in his eyes, "I'm worried I did something wrong." 

"Kid, I'm saying for real that you didn't do anything. What all have you tried?" 

"At first I tried baking for him, and movie nights, and cuddling, and all that touchy-feely cute crap he likes. Then I tried my way, with gifts and notes. He's so distant now, and I'm scared." 

In Shouta's past, distant meant angry. Distant meant annoyance. It meant Shouta was annoying. In his opinion, it was the worst feeling in the world, on par with actually dying. It meant the wayward person already knew that there was nothing Shouta could do to fix things, and whether it was his fault or not, he always played the Blame Game. And Shouta always lost. 

"Oh, Shouta, I'm sure everything is alright. He just needs space. How about you come over here, spend the night maybe. I'll help you relax and recover, and we'll see about your situation with Hizashi as we go along. Sound good, Kid?" Nemuri implored, doing her best to mitigate, despite Shouta's stuttering heart. 

"Yeah. Okay. I'll... I'll tell Hizashi." 

"Don't do that. Call it an emotional experiment, but I don't think you should wait 'till he gets home to come to see me." 

"Emotional experiment?" 

"Don't worry about it. Come to me, child." Nemuri enunciated, cheerfully, but not without caution. 

"I'm not a child. You're only a little bit older than me." Shouta protested, half offended. 

"Almost a year, Sho. Seriously, pack a bag. I doubt you'll like my clothes." Nemuri defended, letting her voice slip into a more easygoing tone. 

That surely was true. Her fashion sense leaves a lot to be desired, in Shouta's humble, minimalist opinion. Not that he would call his sister out for having her sense of style, because that would make him a terrible brother. He did, however, inform her that she was correct in assuming that he would not enjoy wearing her clothes, both because of the colours, style, and general genre of clothing, but because Shouta was almost four inches taller than her, and just a bigger person all around. It wouldn't fit, even if Shouta wanted to try, which he didn't. 

Shouta had no idea how long he planned on staying, but he packed what he thought would be necessary, in case Nemuri was right, and Hizashi needed a healthy bit of physical distance. 

His departure left a lot for questioning, judging by Hizashi getting home, and questioning the drooping duffel bag, and Shouta stuffing it with clothes, all black, per his tastes. No judgement. 

Hizashi seemed concerned, confused, maybe even sad, and Shouta looked up at him, wondering what the look was for. 

And oh... How come Shouta never thought of it before? Reason with him. Just sit him down and talk about it. 

"Hizashi, I need to talk to you," Shouta said carefully, putting the last of his things in his bag, and sitting down to talk to Hizashi. 

"Of course, what's up," Hizashi asked, turning to look at Shouta. He looked... impatient. 

"...Never mind, you should relax after work..." Shouta tried to redirect, but the shaky tone and swelling tears must have been more open than Shouta thought, because the next moment, he was standing, crying, in the arms of his husband. 

"I'm not going anywhere until we figure this out. What's going on, Shou?" 

"It's fine. I'm sure it's nothing, I'm just making a big deal out of nothing." 

Because Shouta wasn't sure he wasn't. What if it all was a big misunderstanding? What if Hizashi genuinely did just need a bit of space, and Shouta automatically jumped to his husband not loving him anymore? 

"Anything you're feeling is worth talking about. If you seriously don't want to tell me, that's alright, but I'd like to know, in case I can help." 

"Are you sure?" 

"I've never been more certain since the day I said 'I Do'." 

Shouta sighed, feeling helpless, not for the first time, "It's just that I don't know what to do. You've been distant, and sad. Did I do something wrong?" Shouta asked wearily like he was concentrating on keeping his voice steady. 

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong, Sho. I'm sorry I've made you feel that way," Hizashi's voice flitted around the space like a song, making Shouta feel warm. 

"If I didn't do anything... then why are you so cold? You won't accept my gifts anymore, and you won't respond to your favorite things. What's going on?" 

"I've just been busy, that's all.." 

"That's doubt," said Shouta quietly, "Why is there a lie in your voice?" 

"What are you talking about?" Hizashi asked incredulously. 

"You're lying. Why are you lying?" 

Hizashi

"I'm not! I have been busy, but I guess that's just not the only reason. I guess I've been doubting..." 

"You know I love you, right?" Hizashi asked suddenly, interrupting himself before he could tell him what was wrong. Neither of them seemed to notice. 

"I do know that. There have just been things going on that I'm not sure how to handle. It's just a bit scary," Shouta reassured, letting his voice fall silent, until, "You know that I love you, right?" 

Hizashi did not have an answer to that. Because he didn't know that, anymore. What if Shouta didn't? Perhaps it was only his insecurities, but Hizashi's brain felt the need to remind him of how he had been acting toward his beautiful spouse. 

"Hizashi, you know that... right?" 

"Of course I do... normally," he said honestly, feeling all the things rush back to him, all the nightmares, the terror. 

"Nemuri said you probably just needed a break." 

"A break?" 

"Yeah. I'm going to go stay with her for a while, and we can put a pin in this." 

Hizashi stared at Shouta for longer than he thought should be necessary, and tears shimmered in his chartreuse eyes until his voice cracked in his throat, and he asked, "Is that what you want to do?" 

"I don't know what I want. I think I want you to be happy. And I want me to be happy. I want everything to go back to normal, and I want to stop worrying. So I'm going to go to my sister's, and you can stay here, and work through whatever it is that's bothering you. Proximity isn't working. I'll be back as soon as it's over, okay?" 

Hizashi's voice betrayed him, once again, right when he needed it. He needed to tell Shouta that it was fine, he didn't have to go. His tears spilled over, and his cheeks turned red with his heartfelt desperation, but still, he couldn't speak. Shouta stood, waiting for his answer, and he nodded. This could be worse. He nodded over and over, still unable to speak around the treacherous lump of fear in his throat, pleading, but silent, for Shouta to stay, and they can work it out together. 

Hizashi never would have considered a break. He supposed it had always been in the back of his mind, that eventually Shouta would tire of the monotony, and he would wish to leave. Not that Hizashi could blame him. And as much as it hurt to hear, and see him go, without even being able to speak his mind– or better, his heart– he was somehow glad for the astringent suffering that Shouta's absence would cause since it would provide a comfort-adjacent feeling, knowing he couldn't hurt him. Or Shouta couldn't hurt Hizashi when he leaves.

Shouta would be safe at his sister's place. 

So he continued to nod, feeling all the tears cascading down his face, shock still and silent. He couldn't offer consolation to Shouta, who sighed cheerlessly as he finished packing his bag. 

Eventually, he was done, Shouta's bag was slung over his shoulder, and he was waving goodbye. 

Shouta, apparently, would not accept a simple wave and gave Hizashi a full hug, and a brisk kiss. He whispered that he would be back, but Hizashi wasn't sure he heard correctly. He stood in that position, casual clothes, and hair down since he was at the radio, but he didn't care. 

Soon, he heard the door click shut, and Shouta's footsteps walk down the building's hallways, to the elevator, probably. 

When he was all alone, he cried. Nobody could hear him, because he desperately muzzled his Quirk. 

He hoped Shouta came back soon. 

Shouta

Shouta knocked on Nemuri's door, feeling helpless, and soaked. 

Yes. Soaked.

It had started raining during the walk to Nemuri's house, like a sick imitation of a shitty American rom-com, where the boy troops through the rain to reach the so-called love of his life, either after being a douchbag, or this is the moment where he sings a split-screen duet with the love interest in a shitty rendition of "Sandcastles" by Beyoncé. Shouta didn't think this would ever happen to him, but here he was. 

Either way, he was soaked to the bone, and he wanted time to warm up after being in the November rain for a little over an hour. 

Nemuri opened the door with a curious expression, and a mug of hot cocoa, "Shouta, you have a key." 

"I left it. And my car keys. And my wallet. And my… my husband."

"I get it. Come in, but do not step on the carpet until you've changed. You know where your room is, so you should go change. I have movies, and popcorn when you're ready." 

Shouta thinks he's had enough of movies, for now, still having felt like he lived through one, even briefly. He made his way to the "guest bedroom" (Shouta's bedroom, because the two of them had room in each other's residences for the other), and unpacked his stuff. Luckily for him, his duffel bag was water-resistant, and his phone, charger, clothes, and other necessities were still more than dry enough. 

Once everything was in its place, Shouta put on a dry outfit eerily similar to the one he was wearing on the walk here, but anyone of taste would know that the hemline of the black shirt told the difference between the two. Shouta didn't ever think he would be one to point out the difference in clothing hemlines to tell them apart, but once again, here he was. 

Nemuri could probably also differentiate between Black Shirt #1 and Black Shirt #whatever-this-one-was, but he didn't think it was necessary to ask. 

He walked out of his bedroom, toweling his hair, and relaxed on the sofa. 

"Oh geez. You look as snug as a bug in a weirdly bright yellow sleeping bag." Nemuri said, dropping a candy cane in a new mug of cocoa, a print of a wide-eyed kitten surrounded by stars, titled somehow menacingly, 'me-wow!'. 

"If you didn't want me to make myself at home, you wouldn't have invited me," Shouta scowled, crossing his legs on the sofa in front of him in a criss-cross-applesauce way, "Is that for me?" 

"Indeed it is, sleep brother. Hot cocoa with a pump of vanilla syrup, a dash of cinnamon, two mini mint candy canes, and extra whipped cream." 

"Thank you so much, Nem, I fucking love you." 

She sighed, "I know." 

Shouta took the mug and raised it to smell the delectable cocoa his sister had given him. Fabulous. Amazing. Shouta was pleased. 

And suddenly he was reminded of why he was there, and he almost dropped the mug. Maybe he did, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that tears were building in his eyes again, and he was wrapping his arms around himself after he registered that Nemuri set his mug on the coffee table. 

He realized that he had walked out on Hizashi, let him be when that was the last thing he had wanted only yesterday. He was... taking a break. From what? Hizashi? That seemed harsh. Their relationship? That made Shouta think there may be something wrong– which there sort of was, but still. He was the one that walked away. 

But, somehow, he doesn't feel too guilty about it. 

"Shouta..?" 

And he finally noticed Nemuri was trying to get his attention. Why? 

"What's up?" 

She looked concerned, maybe apprehensive, "You're crying." 

He was? He didn't notice. His hand came up to pat his cheeks, and he was only a little surprised to feel tears. Oh. 

"Are you okay? I understand that leaving was hard, but you did the right thing by coming." 

"I told him," Shouta apologized, feeling a little sheepish about it since Nemuri had told him not to. 

He wondered if Nemuri would be upset with him for letting his spouse know that he would be taking shelter with other members of his family, but Shouta supposed he could handle his sister's cantankerous attitude if it came to that. But that is not what was happening. Nemuri had taken on a slightly indifferent expression, and stared at Shouta with an unreadable expression that Shouta decided might be worse than the slightly older woman being irate. 

"Why?" She asked, instead of the 'I told you not to' Shouta expected. 

"Well, it's not like I left a note or anything! I was just making sure he knew where I was in case he thinks I got kidnapped or something. So really I think I was doing what was best..." 

"Shouta, that's not what I asked. I'm not upset with you. Not even a little. I'm just curious," Nemuri explained after Shouta trailed off mid-sentence. 

"Well, I guess I told him because he asked. He got home earlier than I was expecting and saw me packing. I kinda told him what was happening, and he seemed upset about it? But I told him I'd be back, and I came here. I heard him crying after I left, and I almost turned around, and went home." Shouta affirmed, letting himself process what he did healthily. 

"Did anything else happen?" 

"I don't think so. He said... He said he had been doubting that I love him. I think... I think that broke me? I don't know what to do to fix this, or even if I can," Shouta confessed, feeling everything as if it was close, but not close enough to affect him. Maybe he had exhausted his tears on the trip here, through the pouring rain. Maybe he was subconsciously blocking it out to protect himself. Shouta didn't care which, as long as he wasn't crying. 

"It's not your responsibility to handle it by yourself. Inevitably, it'll be too much for any one person, even one as strong as Kayama-Aizawa Shouta, and you'll need to accept help. That's what you did today. You're here to help yourself. The issue can wait until you're ready." 

"But-" 

"No. What did I just say?" 

"I'm allowed to get help." Shouta sighed, not believing her. 

"Good! Now, are you ready to forget about your troubles, and relax," effused Nemuri, slouching against the opposing cushion on her supple sofa, and sighing. 

"Yeah, I suppose. Did you know I'm going to get another tattoo?" 

"I did not! How many would that round to?" Nemuri gasped, suddenly incredibly interested in the conversation. Way more than she was before. 

"Nine, but if you count the stars, and stick figures individually, I have eighteen." 

"Damn. I still only have two. Our moon and z's, and our stick figures with Zashi." Nemuri exclaimed, surprised. 

"Yeah, I have the feather, the shell, the rings, my ampersand, and my butterfly," Shouta hesitated, tapping his legs, and arms to signify where each was, "The figures, our moon, the stars, and the little cloud right here."

Shouta put his left hand over his shoulder, right on top of the little stormcloud– an homage to Shirakumo Oboro, the most easygoing person Shouta had ever met. 

Nemuri looked surprised, and stared at him for a little too long, until she shook her head in wonder, and chuckled, "I would definitely forget where I put them." 

"It is actually remarkably easy to misplace body art," Shouta agreed, "I know I want a new one, right here."

His hand came up to brush against the bare skin on his right forearm. He was saving that space for something extra special.

"I just don't know what I want yet." 

Nemuri looked contemplative and seemed to be in her world for a brief moment, until she sighed, and limp on the sofa, "Well, let me know when you figure it out. I'd love to help you out with it." 

"I'll keep that in mind."

Hizashi

Hizashi was strained. Time tested him, and energy eluded him. By the time three days of Shouta's absence rolled around, Hizashi was ready to call it quits, beg for forgiveness, and try to move on. 

Of course, fate had other, less well-meaning plans for Hizashi's immediate future, because, for some reason, Shouta refused to acknowledge him in the workplace at all. Hizashi had been all but desperate to reestablish communication, even going so far as to employ Midoriya Izuku to relay a message. 

Maybe that was a bad move, because Midoriya came back around later that day and said, "Aizawa-Sensei told me to tell you... 'Stop dragging my damn kids into our mess. I'll talk to you later'.", with hushed tones, and a little flush of embarrassment when asked to repeat Shouta's response. 

Of course, 'later' didn't come. Hizashi was so tired. He wanted his husband back. 

But the universe didn't give a fuck about what he wanted, and continued to send him trial after trial to test his goddamn patience. He had half a mind to walk up to Shouta and demand they have a face to face conversation about what was going on, but he remembered that this break is what Shouta wanted. Hizashi needed to accept that.

However, that doesn't really stop him from sobbing in the shower, listening to 'Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes)' by Edison Lighthouse, in a fit of melancholy aggression. 

So maybe he needed to try a little harder to fix this. That was a given. 

At least the truculent nighttime hallucinations of his loved one's passing had stopped two days ago, and Hizashi was finally getting more sleep. Well, as much sleep as one can get if you're constantly worried about the people you love. 

In the meantime, while he figured out how to help Shouta, he continued to try and regain communication. Luckily Shouta was working with him, and they started with awkward greetings where 'I love you's used to be. 

There's only so much time until Shouta was ready to hear Hizashi's apology, and he was counting the seconds.

Shouta

It only took three days before Shouta finally started an Idea Jog, to brainstorm tattoos for that special spot on his arm. 

The first idea was a bird of some kind, and the idea came while Shouta was out on patrol. An inconvenient time, sure, but Shouta was an autistic, ADHD artist that hyperfixates on sketching. He always had a little notepad on him, just in case something happened, and Shouta needed to write something down. He wouldn't admit it, but if anyone flipped through the pages, it would largely be filled with drawings. Anything from birds, to flowers, to landscapes, and skylines. Drawing was his passion, as much as Hizashi was. 

By the time the second idea rolled around, it was as clear as graphite on sketch paper that he wanted to get a tattoo to represent he and Hizashi. He didn't know exactly what, but he would figure it out, and how he had a million and one ideas tumbling through his head. 

He found himself at the kitchen table in Nemuri's house, with a set of artist's pencils, and a large sketchbook that he'd proudly admit to being his safe space. His favorite sketchbook. Given to him by his favorite person. There, he would draw the inspiration for a gift to that very same person. 

He had so many ideas, and even more filled pages to hold them, but he couldn't decide. 

"Late night?" Nemuri asked, walking deliberately in his line of sight, and keeping her usually exuberant hands to herself. Which was fair, considering she had no clue what her brother's opinion on touch would be right now. 

"Yeah. Sorry, I'll make sure to clean the table when I'm done. I just have so many ideas, and if I don't draw then they'll be gone." 

"I get it, kid. You don't have to explain anything to me," she sighed, dragging the opposing chair out to join him, can I see what you have?" 

"Uhh, sure, I just have to finish this one real quick," Shouta allowed, feeling happy with himself as he wove the pencil around on the expensive paper, "I'm really excited to have something done for Hizashi." 

"I'll bet; you're working yourself into a frenzy for this gift," Nemuri said, smiling gently at Shouta. 

Shouta didn't respond to her, and continued to draw, until he signed the drawing with the cursive signature he put on his art. 'K,A,Y Shouta'. He was so proud of his long name... 

He handed the sketchbook over to his sister, and flipped his pencil around in his hand, trying to dispel some of his manic energy. 

Nemuri made noises of interest, and exclaimed when she came across one she liked. She made a little comment about how she would be opposed to getting these tattooed on herself, if they weren't so special. Shouta appreciated the sentiment, but didn't let her know that it would be alright if she did so. 

Eventually, she handed it back, "Those are really good, Shouta. Have you ever thought about selling your art?" 

"Of course I have, but I've decided I don't want to," Shouta confessed, "If everyone interested in art suddenly started telling me that they would like to buy it, it sets a new goal for my art other than simply being a healthy outlet, and cool hobby. If the goal is to sell it, instead of just making things, I won't want to do it anymore." 

Nemuri nodded, seeming to understand, though Shouta doubted she truly got it, "I can understand that, from a perspective. Good for you, setting a boundary like that, kid. I'm proud of you." 

Shouta smiled politely, and flipped to a new page in his book, to start another drawing. 

"What's the new idea," Nemuri asked, setting her head down on her folded arms, hunched over on the table, "Can I watch you draw?" 

"It's a surprise, but yes, you can, if you're quiet," Shouta said quietly, letting his imagination take over. 

Nemuri did not say a word through the whole process, keeping her expression soften. Shouta occasionally looked up to check on her, but she just smiled at him every time. 

In his opinion, the scratching sound of a charcoal pencil on paper was the most relaxing sound ever, and Nemuri must think so too, because by the time Shouta was shading the sketch, he heard slow breathing, and saw his sister fast asleep. 

He didn't want to wake her up, and continued sketching out the unique shape of the idea. This was the endgame. This was the gift for Hizashi that would pull them together again. 

He couldn't finish the drawing yet. He needed something done before that could happen. But that was okay, because Shouta still had a lot of work to do, to make this gift happen.

Fifteen minutes of line work, sketching, and shading later, and Shouta was asleep at the table, right next to Nemuri. 

The next morning, he woke up at the table, to the smell of a pot of tea on the stove. Nemuri must have woken up before he did, and made breakfast. 

His book was set off to the side, and his box of tools right next to it. He wondered, half panicked, if Nemuri put them away, and if she put them away correctly. 

Everything was not a hair out of place in his box, every pencil and every charcoal stick in its place. Nemuri must watch and learn a lot, to know how to put it all away, because he thought he was the only one who could put them away without messing something up. Even Hizashi couldn't do it. 

He stretched against the chair, and noticed dead silence around him. Next to him, on a notepad unlike his own, was a message. From Nemuri. 

'I have a patrol, I'll be back tonight. I made tea, but I know you prefer cocoa. Sorry. 

See you later. 

Nemuri♡' 

Aww. He appreciated her letting him know. 

Well, that left the day in Shouta's hands. He had a couple things he needed to do, starting with booking an appointment to get this tattoo.

Now or never, he supposed, and got changed into clothing more suitable for the public than the sweats he was wearing. 

It felt great to be outside. No better than drawing, but nice either way. It would be better with Hizashi. 

He had no idea how he was going to finish this sketch, but for the sake of Hizashi's gift, he would figure it out. He needed the idea to finish his drawing. And he needs the drawing to get the tattoo. And he needs the tattoo to go home. 

Home. 

As much as he loved Nemuri, her home wasn't his. He was really looking forward to returning to his. 

He decided to stop by the park, and try to finish the drawing. 

It was a peaceful Saturday afternoon, with a few kids out and about on the playground, their parents watching calmly on the sidelines. He saw a few heroes out and about, and Shouta tried to make a game out of recognizing them. He saw a few he recognized, including Nemuri, and Ectoplasm, but no one else that he was overly familiar with, or fond of. 

He tried to sketch out the details of his work in progress as much as he could, because he absolutely needed this to be perfect.

The linework was mostly done, and he set the sketchbook away to brainstorm how to make it perfect. There was still something missing.

He tried to put a few ideas on separate sheets of paper, but none of it was clicking like he wanted it to.

He couldn't write Hizashi's name on his arm. Just because limelight heroes have their identities exposed all the time didn't mean it was a good thing to happen to Shouta. He was underground, with a substantial number of enemies, larger than the number that any of his friends have, by far. Maybe even combined.

He could do initials, but he didn't know how to do that, and make it make sense on his drawing. He wished tattoos weren't so hard. It sucks that they're the most permanent impermanent art form out there.

He could always just finish it off right now, make it just what he had down right now, but he still needed it to be special.

Maybe it was the air. He should find somewhere else to sit. 

He wandered the city, continuing to lament this idea until it grew into something worthwhile, or died. So far it was looking at Dead.

He noticed, almost automatically, that he was walking towards his and Hizashi's apartment, which shouldn't happen. Shouta can't go home just yet. He bets this tattoo will be ready by tomorrow, or the day after. 

Speaking of, he should probably schedule the appointment. His tattoo artist had a great many ideas. Maybe he could help Shouta figure it out.

It didn't matter if Shouta had help making the tattoo, it's still special. 

He didn't have anything to do for the day, except wallow in his confusion and frustration, so he started a separate trek to the hole-in-the-wall tattoo and piercing business he usually frequented for his body art. 

He wasn't the same artist that did his butterfly, and the feather around his wrist, but he did do the rest of them. Shouta knew the guy pretty well, all things considered, and had even designed a tattoo for him, at one point. 

He opened the door, glad that his friend's business was open on this particular Saturday, and he noticed it was dead. Completely silent. There was no ambient chatter of clients, or the occasional teenager yelping in surprise when a needle struck their skin for their piercing, there weren't even any artists, covered in their own tattoos, out and about.

Shouta was beginning to wonder if he was in the right place, or if wasn't open after all. He instantly tried to recognize his surroundings as the familiar punk-decorated walls with pride flags in every corner. He mainly hung up his own flags, but he rotated them pretty often.

He was startled out of his confused reverie, when his friend came out from the backroom holding a sketchbook, and a determined face, "Hey, 'zawa. What's up?"

"You wouldn't believe," Shouta scoffed, "The shit my life has become recently."

He looked around, behind Shouta, "Where's Pretty Boy? He came with you the last few times."

Shouta winced, and his friend immediately picked up on it, "Yikes. Trouble in paradise? I should warn you, getting a tattoo when you're broken-hearted leads to disaster, and I don't recommend it."

Bijutsu Inku, an old friend of Shouta's. He somehow always knew what Shouta meant, and what he felt. His dad did Shouta's first two tattoos, and when he passed away, they got closer. They almost dated at one point. But that wasn't what he wanted to think about, considering Shouta was married, and was here to get a gift for said husband drawn permanently on his arm. 

"I'm not broken-hearted," he elaborated, "I'm… dealing. Hizashi and I are taking a break, in light of specific circumstances."

"Uh oh," Inku hesitated, "Well, what brings you here?"

"Setting up an appointment to get something new," Shouta replied, humming in thought, "I have an idea, but the drawing won't click."

"Let me see," Inku instructed, walking with Shouta deeper into the shop. 

Shouta handed him the sketchbook, flipping to the page with his specific idea. During this time, his friend whistled, "Your art's upped its game, hasn't it, 'zawa? Had a lot of freetime?"

"I guess so. Teaching the little monsters how to not die is really the only thing I find myself doing, with the recent surplus of underground idiots that'll get themselves killed. I don't have the time to draw a lot, with everything going on with UA's rep."

"I get that," Shouta didn't think he did, but whatever. He pointed at the sketchbook, politely acknowledging it, and asking, "Can I see this?" 

Shouta granted him access to the drawing. Right now it was just an idea, but hopefully Inku could help build it up.

"Any ideas?" His friend asked, looking up from the started sketch.

"Hmm," he sat and though for a moment, "How is your English alphabet?"

He and Inku eventually decided on a design, and Shouta sat in silence for almost an hour, sketching it out, and making it perfect. It was supposed to occupy the space on his forearm, the most untouched area. It was supposed to remain in sight the whole time, letting both he and his husband gaze upon it at any time. 

"So when are you free to do this?"

Inku looked at the clock, noting the empty chime of the device filling the rest of the room, "Right now, unless you're busy."

Oh. Thats sooner than Shouta thought, and super convenient, "You don't have any appointments?"

"Nah, its Saturday. Its all pretty slow, and with the new business across the city, people are checking them out more. I was probably going to be bored all day if you hadn't graced my doorstep."

"Well, I'm free all day. No patrol until Tuesday, and no school until Monday," Shouta confirmed, "So I'm good to go."

"Great. Let's get started. You can tell me all about this drama with you and Pretty Boy."

He always called him that. Shouta would have assumed that he was flirting with his husband, but he knew it was an inside joke. When Inku and Hizashi first met, when they came in to do their ampersands, the artist asked Hizashi what his hero name was, because there was no way someone as cool as Eraserhead married some average Joe. 

Hizashi said 'I'm too pretty to share something like that', and of course Inku took in semi-seriously. Shouta was informed that he had made a reasonable guess that he was Present Mic, because of his blond hair, and unmistakable voice, but he wanted to keep being funny, and Hizashi adopted the accolade 'Pretty Boy'. 

Inku thought it was amusing that Shouta kept, quote, "adopting extroverts". Shouta could count on one hand the number of introverts he knows, and Inku thought that was hilarious.

"Well, I don't want to bore you," Shouta said, faltering under Inku's intense gaze.

"Shouta, I never hear any drama. Give me the hot details! As mush as you're comfortable with," he complained, and urged Shouta to reconsider keeping it bottled up.

"Well, Hizashi and I are currently taking a break. Not really, not also that's exactly whats happening. I've been living with my sister for a few days, while I planned to get this tattoo done, and surprise Hizashi with it."

"Do you think you're going to be okay?" Inku asked, finally starting the process of adding the drawing to Shouta's forearm.

"We'll be fine," Shouta insisted, "I plan to head back as soon as this is healed enough to show him."

"What happened? Why are you taking this huge break?"

"Nothing, really. Some of Hizashi's recent fears and insecurities have brought up mine, so it made it hard to properly communicate. Dont worry though, you won't have to hear about a sad divorce, or anything. I fully believe that Hizashi and I will be okay. We just need to talk."

Inku was obviously splitting his attention between Shouta and his arm, trying to make the lines as neat as possible. He was glancing up occasionally, trying to listen to Shouta while also not ruining his arm, "So how's teaching going?"

He acknowledged the topic change, sensing that either Inku had his fill of drama, or he noticed that talking about it so openly was making Shouta uncomfortable. 

Discussing his marital status with anyone made him feel some kind of bittersweet mix between proud of scared. What if this person betrays him, and they run around with personal information on Shouta and his life? What if they give it to the villains?

He knew he was paranoid, but still. 

"Ugh, don't get me started on this group of hellions. They're little monsters, I'm telling you."

"Tell me everything, friend."

Hizashi

On Sunday, Hizashi stood at the front door to his and Shouta's– or is it just his now?– apartment, holding a bouquet of peonies, and his tears. The flowers were for Shouta, but during the trek to Nemuri's house, he realized that he probably shouldn't go see him. And maybe he had gotten to the front steps of the house before he turned back, but seeing Nemuri's house, and being confronted with the fact that an important person in Hizashi's life was trying to heal kept him from knocking. 

For now, he would simply wait and try again later. It may be a week, it may be a year, but he will reconcile with Shouta if it kills him. He bets it would. He's not even being dramatic! It's been a week since Shouta's departure from their life together, and Hizashi was a hair length away from losing his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was all his fault, since he knew, with certainty, that it was. 

So he took a shuddering breath, promised himself that he would speak to Shouta soon, and he opened the door. 

The sight that greeted him was... unexpected. It was enough to bring forth the tears Hizashi fought so hard to keep in check. 

Shouta was sitting in the dining room, with roses in a vase, dinner on the table, and a certain unease in his slouch. He wasn't facing the door, but his entire figure stiffened when the door opened. 

"Shouta?" 

He asked with uncertainty. He wasn't exactly assuming he was hallucinating or something, but it had been a week, and Hizashi thinks he deserved a little time for confusion. 

His husband, despite the inflexible posture he had previously displayed, turned to look at him, with his own lamenting tone, and welling tears, "Hello, Hizashi." 

He looked like an iridescent angel, with his black hair reflecting the glowing colours of the trans flag behind him. Hizashi thought he looked devastatingly gorgeous, and he was sure the image sparkled in his eyes like it did before him. 

"It's good to see you," Hizashi gasped, "How have you been?" 

"Umm... I'd say I've been doing fine, I guess. Seeing Nemuri was nice. How about you?" 

Hizashi was... incredibly disappointed. Not because he just saw his spouse for the first time in long enough to lose the rest of his sanity, but because it was so awkward... Hizashi didn't know what to do about the rigid atmosphere or the apathetic chatter. 

"I'm... It's going. I don't really know what to do without you." 

"Oh... so not the best," Shouta hummed. 

No. Not the best. Hizashi was Suffering.

He didn't know how to live without knowing that Shouta was okay. He didn't want to have to go another week not knowing if he was going to come back soon. He hated getting little stares at UA, and having no other contact from Hizashi's biggest commitment, and greatest joy.

He didn't know how to continue this conversation. It hated that their friendly and loving chats late in the evenings were reduced to this. It was so… so…

Hizashi wanted life to get back to how it was a month ago. He wanted the structure to come back, stay still, don't leave. He's sure Shouta left that way too in the peak of the stress. When everything was bad, but the had the cover of denial.

Having that blanket, while obviously unhealthy, was nice while it lasted. Sort of. Hizashi had been unaware of how it had affected Shouta, but apparently it wasn't well. 

By trying to keep Shouta safe, and keep him from feeling like he was reliving his past, he did just that. He did it, trying to avoid it, but Hizashi was an idiot, and didn't realize just how much the strained distance would remind Shouta of his birth mother.

That awful woman. Hizashi had only heard stories, but the woman was evil.

He didn't want to make Shouta feel that way.

"So, I know I asked before, but how are you? You said seeing Nemuri was nice. Did you do anything else?"

He hoped that was the right question to ask. He felt like a mix between awkward school kid, unable to confess his true feelings, and like a scared teenager, trying desperately to reconnect to someone important.

Because Shouta was one of, if not the most important thing in Hizashi's life.

"Yeah, kind of. I went to see another friend."

"Which one?"

"I can't tell you," Shouta confessed sadly, "It'll ruin the surprise."

So Shouta was planning something. Was it a bad surprise? Hizsshi knew better than to think up those horrible thoughts from the horrible dreams that he finally stopped, so he had to believe that Shouta was planning something pleasant.

"Okay," Hizashi smiled, putting the flowers he had been gripping tightly down on the table in front of Shouta, "I was going to bring those to you, at Nemuri's. Tonight, actually. I supposed I wouldn't have found you there, if you were waiting for me here. Peonies. If I remember correctly, they represent love and honor. They're also your favorite flower."

He remembered that Shouta mentioned that back when they were still dating. Hizashi had an allergy to pollen, so they didn't bring flowers home very often, but he wanted to get Shouta something he knew he'd enjoy.

"They are," Shouta said, lightly touching the soft petals of the delicate flower, "Thank you. I got you a gift as well, but unfortunately there are two things about it. One, you can't see it until tomorrow. Two, the other part is a surprise, so I can't show you yet."

Hizashi nodded, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. They were each sitting at the heads of the table, instead of directly across from each other like they usually did.

He was suddenly struck with the thought that maybe Shouta wouldn't be staying. He said tomorrow, but maybe they were still technically taking a break, and Hizashi shouldn't try to enforce things like his dear husband moving back in.

"Are you staying?" He asked generally, hoping the question wouldn't offend him.

"Yeah. I have my bag. Fully independent of my sister once again," Shouta confirmed, "Unless you'd like me to leave."

"I never wanted you to leave. Not then, not now," Hizashi made sure he was aware. He only actually kept his distance because he thought it might make Shouta feel better. By the looks of it, it did and it didn't. Hizashi could hardly tell, bit Shouta seemed a little brighter. Just a little.

"Okay, then I'm staying," Shouta confirmed, smiling happily for the first time in this conversation.

"I don't know how much I'm allowed to say before you start to think I'm avoiding you again," Hizashi admitted, nervously fiddling with his hair.

"Do you have questions?" Shouta asked.

Of course he has questions. Like what was going to happen next? What was the surprise? Would they really be okay? Was Shouta moving back in? Were they going to sleep in the same bed? What about tomorrow? Which friend did Shouta meet?

"I have one," Shouta said, before Hizashi finished thinking about his plethora of questions, "Are you ready?"

As he'll ever be, he supposed. He smiled, "Hit me."

"Is touch okay?"

Hizashi eyes widened when he processed what Shouta asked.

Of course touch is okay, especiallywith Shouta! Of course, he was more concerned about how Shouta felt about touch, but Hizashi wouldnt deny how much he missed curling into bed with Shouta, just existing together. He smiled, "Of course we can."

"Great, because I would really really like a hug." Shouta admitted, standing up, and messing with the sleeves of his sweater like he always did when he was nervous.

Hizashi stood up, and gave Shout a big warm hug, letting himself enjoy the feeling despite his sadness, and tinges of fear.

It wasn't so early that it was unreasonable to go to bed right now, taking Shouta with him for the express purpose of cuddling, and feeling happy for the first time since Shouta told him he was going to Nemuri's house. A full fucking week.

He had hoped Shouta would be alright with laying in their bed with him, and he was right. As soon as they were hugging, Shouta melted, letting the hidden tension in his posture fall away to be content.

"I really missed you, Shouta," he said, expressing the most prominent thought in his mind.

He heard Shouta hum in agreement, but the sleep seemed to tug Shouta away from his state of consciousness, and soon Shouta was asleep in Hizashi's arms, leaving him to ponder his place, and be happy in the moment.

The next morning, Shouta was still dead to the world, so Hizashi snuck away from him to go make breakfast. He had no idea what time it was, but it hardly mattered, because it was Sunday, and Hizashi fully intended to call into his agency, and tell his sidekicks that he'll be out today, with personal business.

Sure, yes, that was technically shirking his responsibility as a hero, but he had plenty of competent sidekicks that could handle themselves, and Hizashi did not intend to leave his husband here when he just got him back. 

He made pancakes. His way, which was different from the American way, and the British way he grew up using. Why the two countries insisted on being almost the same was beyond him, but it didn't matter.

The only thing that was important to him was making Shouta happy.

He's glad he managed to wake up before Shouta did, because otherwise surprising him with this breakfast wouldn't have been possible.

Speaking of surprises, Hizashi was curious about what Shouta was hiding. 

"Good morning," he called into the hallway, sensing that Shouta was trying to sneak up on him again.

"How do you always know?" Shouta asked.

"I like to think that my gaydar is so good, it tells me when gay people are near. Like an actual radar." Hizashi replied, "And you happen to be so cute, it's like a beacon."

Shouta chuckled, and left the hallway, to join Hizashi. He was still wrapped in the big fluffy blanket they keep on their bed, because Hizashi was naturally cold, and Shouta liked the weight. 

He sat at the stool, near the island, very obviously still half asleep despite his early-morning antics, "How are you this morning,"

"Relieved. It feels nice having you back," Hizashi sighed happily, letting the pleasantry grace his heart, "not knowing how to fix this, over this past week has been kind of stressful. I almost gave up and went to see you a couple times."

"If you had, I wouldn't have been upset," Shouta informed him, "I might have come back."

"Remind me to do that next time this happens," Hizashi said, realizing just a second too late that that was a terrible thing to say.

It would have been better to say 'I'll never have to, because this won't happen again', but stupid, stupid. He said that.

"What I mean is," Hizashi tried to backtrack, "Umm, well… I don't ever want to make you feel like this ever again, so if we ever fight like this again, I'll make sure to chase after you, no matter how many movies it'll feel like."

"I understand. You don't have to explain."

"Oh, but I do. I couldn't handle any more miscommunication, especially after this past week," Hizashi said, "Whatever you feel comfortable bringing up about what you did while you stayed with your sister, I'd love to hear."

He heard the metallic scrape of the stool on their floor, and weighted footsteps coming around to join him on this side of the kitchen. 

All of a sudden, he had a weight on his back, and their huge blanket draped over the two of them. Shouta was either trying to soak up his energy, and use it for the rest of the day, or he was trying to comfort himself, Hizashi, or both. It was working, whatever it was, because Shouta took a deep breath against his back, and all of Hizashi's anxiety melted away.

"So what's this surprise?" Hizashi asked, urging Shouta to get off, so they could eat, "You were pretty cagey about it last night."

"Sorry, I didn't realize." Shouta apologized, getting up, and walking around to his spot, "It's ready at any time. So maybe after we're done eating?"

"I kind of want to see it now," Hizashi chuckled, letting himself express what he felt, "But if you want to wait, that's fine."

"I still need to make sure it's perfect. I haven't seen it either, not really," Shouta explained, smiling warmly at Hizashi, behind the blanket wrapped snugly around him.

"Waiting it is, then," Hizashi confirmed their plans, sitting down across from Shouta like they used to, instead of the awkward position they were in, at opposing sides of the old table last night.

They talked about their escapades over the week. Hizashi scarcely admitted that he hadn't done much except work, only briefly mentioning a job interview for a new intern at the radio station.

Shouta mentioned that he spoke to Bijutsu, his tattoo artist, and friend. That gave Hizashi a pretty good idea on what the surprise is, and he made internal guesses for what he could have gotten and where. 

When they finished eating, and the plates and kitchen were cleared, Shouta took a step forward, and offered Hizashi his arm. He pulled up his sweater sleeve along the way, showing off a beautiful tattoo with patches of bright few colours decorating the art.

Three different flowers on a stem, shown in a deep red, a pale orange, and a white, fading into pink in a distinguished display of elegance.

The stem was a dark, dark green, moving swiftly to spell something below the flowers. The letter H, in English. It was beautiful, showing off the first letter in Hizashi's name in his mother language. There's no way it could represent anything other than him.

"Its beautiful," he told Shouta, lightly touching it, "I thought you couldn't get anything like this… and weren't you saving this area for something special?"

"You are special, Hizashi. And besides, it's not like anyone dangerous has seen my tattoos thus far anyways. And I made it in English for two reasons. One, I know it's important to you. Two, not a lot of villains know English. And the letter H is subjective. It could be anyone, to anyone else. But to me, it's you."

Hizashi might cry. 

No, scratch that, he already was. 

Shouta went and got a symbol of their love for each other tattooed on his arm. If that's not special, Hizashi didn't know what was. He got it to show Hizashi that they would be okay. They were still the love of each other's lives. Nothing could change that.

"What do the flowers mean? I know you've been studying it, so it can't be just a little detail."

Shouta smiled at him, giving him a small kiss, and leading his eyes back to the art on his arm.

First, he touched the burgundy rose, "Devotion," he pointed to the pale orange– peach– rose, "Gratitude," finally, he placed his scarred hand on the delicate calla lilies, "and Undying Love."

Something that will always bring them together.