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    Summary

    “Sorry… I wasn’t good enough,” Yagi said, breathless and soaked in sweat.
    Aizawa climbed off him. The ride had left his hair damp with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead and shoulders. He collapsed onto the pillow, covering his eyes with his forearm, and let out a soft laugh. “Given your condition, it’s understandable, Yagi-san. You have no idea how much of a mess my first time was—”
    He cut himself off before finishing the word “was,” quickly realizing it might be rude to bring that up in front of his current partner.
    But Yagi pushed himself up, brushing the damp hair from his forehead with his large, calloused hand. He looked gently into Aizawa’s eyes, smiling softly as he asked, “Was it a precious memory?”
    Aizawa parted his lips to speak, then closed them again. After a pause, he blinked his dry eyes.

    “…Yes,” he said.

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