Chapter Text
Thursday, October 5
Hizashi placed the last book on the display then stretched his long arms overhead, twisting slightly until his back popped. Ooh yeah, there we go. He stooped once more and broke down the now-empty cardboard box. Tucking it under an arm, the tall blonde strode purposefully across the sales floor, through the ‘Employees Only’ door into the stock room, and finally out into the alley behind his store. As the heavy metal door clicked shut, Hizashi froze. He… wasn’t alone.
“Agh!” The Dumpster lid slammed down loudly as a small, green-haired boy whirled around, eyes wide with fright. Hizashi quickly took in the boy’s appearance: matted, unwashed hair; dirty, scraped skin; ill-fitting clothes that hung loosely over his tiny frame -and no jacket despite the cold October rain.
“Hey there, kid,” Hizashi slowly raised his hands palm out to show the boy he meant no harm. The flattened box under his arm slid to the ground and the kid startled back a few steps until he was pressed against the wall opposite. Trembling, the boy’s gaze darted around the alley, searching for escape, but Hizashi was between him and the exit. The kid swallowed hard at the realization, his breathing coming in ragged pants now. Hizashi’s heart clenched at how much the boy reminded him of a cornered rabbit.
“It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you. My name’s Hizashi. What’s yours?” The boy mumbled something and shook his head, green curls barely moving, held down by the weight of all the grime and oil buildup.
“What was that? I’m sorry, kid, I don’t hear so well…” Hizashi took a tentative step forward, hands still held out placatingly, but the kid pressed himself harder against the wall as if trying to disappear straight through the brick; Hizashi froze again. Gods, he’s so scared…
Suddenly the boy’s eyes flicked to something over the man’s shoulder as he gasped out a startled, “No! ‘Toshi, don’t-” Hizashi had just enough time to turn his head and catch a shock of purple before - thwack!- a fist connected with his temple. Hard . The tall blonde crumpled in a heap, stars dancing before his eyes, glasses skittering across the rain-slicked ground. He became dimly aware of someone stepping over him -a dark shape against the steel gray sky.
“‘Zuku! C’mon,” A new voice hissed -much lower than the high, clear one of the green-haired boy- and two blurry shadows hopped over his prone figure, the slap of fleeing footsteps echoing away down the alley. Hizashi blearily crawled up to all fours and patted around on the cold cement until his fingers at last located his -thankfully unbroken- glasses. His emerald eyes searched the growing shadows but the boys were already long gone. Hizashi’s head throbbed and he tentatively prodded his face with his fingers, hissing in pain. Well, at least the store’s closed so I can just go home… With a sigh, the tall man slowly got to his feet and hobbled back inside, broken down box all but forgotten now.
. . .
“‘M home,” The deep rumble of his husband’s voice instantly brought a smile to Hizashi’s lips as the dark-haired man of his dreams rounded the corner into the living room. Though, instead of his usual trudge and flop on the couch, Shouta bristled, body going taut as he growled, “What happened to your face?”
“Oh, this?” Hizashi gingerly pressed a hand to his right brow and grimaced, “Ah, Dumpster lid slipped outta my hand when I was tossing out some boxes,” He shrugged and tried to play it off as no-big-deal; he knew how protective his man could be and Hizashi really didn’t want to cause those kids any trouble when they clearly had enough to deal with already.
“Really Shou, it’s nothing,” His husband simply scowled in response, a muscle twitching around his left eye. Finally, the dark-haired man sighed and ran a large, scarred hand over his scruffy face.
“Did you at least put some ice on it?”
“Yeeeeeees, I’m not completely helpless without you, you know. However,” Hizashi cocked his head thoughtfully as a sly grin spread across his delicate features, “I do think a kiss would make it feel better,”
“Oh, really?” Shouta raised a single dark brow as he slowly crossed the room, coming to a stop before his husband. Rough fingers gently lifted the blonde’s chin as he leaned down, towering over the slender man. Wavy, dark hair brushed against Hizashi’s flushed cheeks, emerald eyes fluttering closed as Shouta ran the calloused pad of his thumb over the blonde’s lower lip. His low voice practically purred, “You want me to kiss it better?” Hizashi nodded slightly, face still cradled in Shouta’s warm grip, and hummed approvingly.
“Alright then,” Hizashi shivered as the warmth moved from his chin up his cheek to card lightly through his long hair; with a breathy sigh, he closed his eyes tighter and instinctively leaned into the familiar touch. A slight rustle of fabric and pressure from the large hand now resting at the back of his neck told him Shouta was kneeling before him. Hizashi’s heart thundered behind his ribs and he shivered again, this time in anticipation.
Shouta first pressed their foreheads together then nuzzled the tips of their noses so, so softly; the blonde man practically fell off the couch when he drew away. Just as Hizashi’s eyes started to flutter open, strong fingers gripped his hair and yanked his head back, exposing his slender neck. The kiss that followed was anything but rough though. Tenderly - reverently- Shouta pressed slow, hot kisses along Hizashi’s jaw, to his ear then down his neck, everywhere except his mouth.
“How’s that?” Hizashi shivered yet again as the dark-haired man’s words rumbled against his throat.
“I think I still need a few more,” Hizashi wrapped his arms around the other man and drew him closer, pressing kisses of his own into silky black tresses as Shouta buried his scruffy face deeper into his husband’s neck.
“That so?” Kisses turned to bites and Hizashi’s head fell back with a loud sigh of pleasure. Strong hands snaked beneath his body and gripped his thighs tightly as Shouta effortlessly lifted the slender blonde. Hizashi wrapped his long legs around the other man’s waist as he stood, moving them from the living room to the bedroom. Neither bothered to kick the door closed behind them.
. . .
Later that night Hizashi ran a hand gently through Shouta’s wild hair, black silk slipping through his fingers as his thoughts once again turned to the two boys from the alley. Who were they? Why were they digging around in the garbage? Where were their parents? But, mostly, Why did they run?
“What’s on your mind, Sunshine?” Stubble prickled against his bare chest along with the quiet thunder of his husband’s gruff voice. Gods, was there a more beautiful sound in the world?
“Hmm? Nothing,”
“I can practically hear you thinking,” Hizashi worried his bottom lip, fingers still dancing through black waves.
“I just- Could I borrow one of your game cameras?” Shouta rolled more onto his stomach -his upper body still draped over Hizashi’s- and propped himself up to meet his partner’s face.
“What do you want with a game camera?”
“I… thought I saw some stray cats… in the alley behind the shop,” The blonde shrugged and cast his emerald eyes up to the ceiling in an attempt to hide the lie -his second of the evening; he could feel Shouta’s shrewd gaze studying him. Take the bait…
“Cats? How many? Did they look okay?” Yes! Hizashi felt a tad guilty for playing his husband like this; he knew cats were Shouta’s Achilles’ heel.
“I didn’t get a good enough look at them to tell, they scampered off so quickly,” He shook his head, blonde locks staticy against the pillowcase; the concern and worry his voice clearly betrayed was not an exaggeration.
“Hm. I’ve got a few spares. I’ll set them up tomorrow,” The dark-haired man gave a decisive nod and turned back to his side, burrowing his head sleepily into Hizashi’s shoulder as he wrapped one muscled arm around his husband’s trim middle.
“Thanks, love,” Hizashi kissed Shouta on the forehead and hugged him tightly in return. The blonde listened to his husband’s slow, even breaths as the larger man drifted off to sleep. His own brain, however, simply refused to quiet and instead plagued him with questions like, Are they safe? Were they hungry? Are they okay? It’s so cold out, are they warm? Hizashi did his best to push the worry aside and made a mental list of supplies and other things he’d like to have on hand at the shop if -no, when - he saw the two teens again: hats, gloves, scarves, jackets, blankets, thick socks, non-perishable snacks, soap, hand warmers…
Eventually though, between the warmth of his lover pressed against his side and the hypnotic rhythm of the man’s deep breathing, Hizashi’s list came to an end as he was lulled into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
. . .
True to his word, the following morning Shouta installed two small game cameras in the alleyway behind Hizashi’s store: one next to their door facing across toward the Dumpster, and the other at the end looking back up the length of the alley. He set the cameras up to alert Hizashi’s phone when movement was detected and showed the blonde how to navigate the accompanying app used to review the footage.
“Let me know if you see anything,”
“Will do, love. Thanks again,” With a grunt and short kiss, Shouta left the shop and started his commute across town to the small, private detective agency he worked for. The work wasn’t as glamorous as Hizashi had imagined from TV, nor as consistent, but Shouta enjoyed what he did and the pay was enough to cover their adult expenses and allow Hizashi to follow his own passions -during the week he worked at his store (a used book/record/movie shop that did surprisingly well considering the prevalence of digital media) and then on Friday and Saturday nights he hosted ‘Put Your Hands Up!’ radio show where he played six non-stop hours of whatever the hell he felt like.
The week passed quickly and included plenty of notifications from the game cameras -but none of them turned out to be the green-haired boy. After another week with no sightings Hizashi started to think maybe he’d scared the kids so badly they’d never return. The bruises on his face had all disappeared, leaving no evidence of their encounter, as if the two boys had ever existed at all…
At last, though, his patience paid off.
Hizashi hunched over the counter well after hours, sticker gun flying over paperbacks marking them for clearance when - ding ding . He tugged his phone from the pocket of his jeans and tapped the notification to pull up the game cam’s feed. Emerald eyes widened as his lips parted into a silent ‘oh’ -there, in tiny, grainy black-and-white was a boy.
Hizashi dropped the price marker and sprinted through the empty shop and cluttered stock room before coming to an abrupt halt; he didn’t want to burst out and startle the kid into running again. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushed the door open and slipped into the alley, quietly guiding the door closed instead of letting it bang shut. Just like two weeks earlier, the boy had the lid of the Dumpster propped back against the alley wall and was trying -unsuccessfully- to haul himself up and over the edge of the bin. Hizashi looked up and down the alley, searching for the other kid -the one who’d decked him last time- but saw no sign of anyone else. Granted, he hadn’t before either…
“Um, d’you need a hand?” Hizashi tried to keep his tone friendly and kind, and his volume at a moderate level; the boy still jumped terribly, hands slipping on the edge of the rubbish container, he crashed to the ground. Wide green eyes sparked recognition when they landed on Hizashi. The kid scrambled backwards until he met the wall and he raised shaking hands, pleading.
“I’m sorry! I-I’ll go, just - please! - don’t-”
“Hey,” Hizashi crouched down and tried to make himself seem non-threatening, “Like I said last time, kid, I’m not gonna hurt you. I wanna help,” The boy didn’t say anything and as the silence stretched on two sets of emerald eyes stared apprehensively at one another. The blonde man gestured toward the empty alley, “Um, where’s your friend?” The kid’s eyes widened even more, if possible, and he visibly swallowed as he pulled his knees to his chest, bare arms wrapping protectively around his legs. Making himself small.
“Oh buddy, no . I’m not- I just-” Hizashi sighed and sat down completely now, folding his long, long legs to sit pretzel-style and leaned his back against the door, shivering as the cold from the metal quickly seeped through his shirt. “What’re you even doing out all alone? It’s, like, ten o’clock on a school night. Your parents must be worried, yeah?” The boy’s posture had loosened slightly but, at that last sentence, his expression turned hard. With green eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, the kid pushed himself up to standing and began to edge his way along the wall toward the mouth of the alley.
“Y-you’re right. I’ll just- I’ll be going now…”
“Wait,” Hizashi reached out a hand and despite the meter of space between them the boy still flinched, knocking his elbow painfully against the Dumpster. However, he did stop and wait for the blonde man to continue.
“What’re you diggin’ around for, hm? What do you need that’s in there ?” Hizashi cocked his head at the rubbish bin. The boy’s brow furrowed deeply as he blinked rapidly, brain stuttering at the question. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he debated whether or not to even answer, “Please, kid… just tell me,” At that, the green-haired boy again wrapped his thin arms around his body for support, his face burning red as he mumbled out a response.
“I’m so sorry, buddy, I didn’t catch that. Hard of hearing. Could you say it again?” The boy’s cheeks flushed even deeper crimson, if possible, and he ducked his chin nearly down to his chest but his voice was loud and clear.
“Food,” The kid swallowed hard and rubbed his hands over his arms where his bare skin prickled with gooseflesh.
“Oh…”
“I-It’s okay. Really. The cafe, um, next door? They toss what’s going to expire at night and sometimes we- I mean, I- y’know…” He shrugged awkwardly, gaze set firmly on the ground under his dirty, red hightops, “It’s usually not even bad yet just-”
“ Kid, look at me,” Hizashi waited until, slowly, those wide emerald eyes met his own, “That’s not okay-”
“It’s not stealing! No one wants it, they’re throwing it out and-
“That’s not what I mean. Please, let me help,” At first it looked like the boy was going to cry, but, as he had at the mention of his parents, his expression quickly steeled instead.
“No, thanks. We’re doing fine ,”
“Really?” Hizashi stretched his long limbs out and stood. Wrong move. The green-haired boy took off at a sprint down the alley; Hizashi’s calls to ‘wait’ and ‘come back’ went ignored and unanswered. Swearing, the man kicked the Dumpster in frustration, the force causing its lid to bang shut loudly, the jarring noise echoing off the alley walls, “Ow!” He’d scared him away again and now his foot hurt, too. With a sigh, Hizashi stormed back inside his shop and locked up, not even bothering to finish the mark-downs he’d started earlier. What a complete failure of a night…
Izuku ran chaotically for a few blocks, in case the tall man was trying to follow him, before slowing to a jog and heading back to… to what? He couldn’t call it ‘home’ because it was barely a building, but he supposed the word was technically accurate. It was the place where he and Hitoshi slept and that was home enough for them.
He’d met the purple-haired boy a little over a year ago and the two had formed a quick and strong friendship. The circumstances under which they’d met were less than pleasant, but Izuku wouldn’t change a thing -Hitoshi was his best friend and Izuku was lucky to have him in his life. Honestly, he didn’t think he’d have made it this long out here without the other boy’s guidance. Hitoshi once said it was because Izuku had been made for a normal life -family, friends, school- unlike him. They’d argued fiercely about that; Izuku didn’t like his friend thinking so poorly of himself.
The greenette crept around the dark alley and skillfully through a broken foundation window, dropping into the warehouse’s basement. Izuku wound his way through the forgotten debris of the previous business to a small interior closet. Inside, Hitoshi lounged in the corner among a pile of tattered blankets, book in hand. Beside him burned a single candle, inelegantly housed within a metal coffee canister and held in place with packed sand. That had been one of the first skills Hitoshi taught him to provide light and heat, enough to warm a small space at least.
“What took you so long?” The purple-haired boy closed his book and set it on the ground next to the ‘bed’ then held up the covers for Izuku to climb in. He lay down facing the wall and curled into a tight ball as Hitoshi blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness -it was too dangerous to sleep with it lit, no matter how nice the warmth felt.
“I ran into that guy again, the one by the cafe?” The taller boy’s body melded around Izuku and pulled him in close before drawing the blankets over them both. The nearness had felt awkward at first but now the two were as comfortable with the other as brothers, gaining peace and calm from each others' presence.
“We shouldn’t go there anymore then, ‘s too risky,”
“He said he wanted to help,”
“Tch, don’t they all?”
“...Maybe he means it?”
“‘Zuku,” Hitoshi sighed, tone low and cautious.
“I know, I know: People can’t be trusted. I get that but-”
“That’s all there is to it, Izuku. No matter how nice he seems or how much he says he wants to help, in the end he’ll only make things worse for us. Stay away from him,” The greenette felt Hitoshi tense behind him. They’d had this conversation so many times Izuku could probably speak both their parts. He really didn’t want to fight, especially since Hitoshi was probably right -as usual. Izuku was just… tired. Tired of being cold and hungry and dirty. He just wanted things to be better; he didn’t want to have to fight so hard for everything.
“...Okay, ‘Toshi. I will,”
Hizashi opened the shop as usual the next morning but left as soon as his employee, Touya, arrived; he had supplies to get. Armed with his personal debit card instead of the one for the joint account he and Shouta would usually use for expenses, the blonde checked item after item off his list. Back at his own store, Hizashi went around and entered through the alley to avoid running into any customers. Once sequestered in his little office, he unpacked his purchases into the drawers of his desk; they hadn’t held anything important anyway. With an accomplished sigh, Hizashi leaned back in his desk chair, arms folded behind his head. Next time the kid came around, he’d be ready to help.