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Monday, Hizashi Yamada remembers it being Monday when everything started to get unbearable— the staff was still visiting several classes to check on their behavior, to observe the adults perform their profession as teachers, and to help with any cases of misbehavior that involves a sudden attack from a villain; ever since the decline in stronger heroes being produced to protect everyone, the crime rates shot up increasingly high, Hizashi remembers a group of girls talking about how certain alleyways are being blocked for recent murder scenes or... Disgusting misdemeanors that involved more than just murder.
Perhaps because of the gossip —was it really, though?— it was why he preferred to stay at school as frequently as he can when his parents are gone, which wasn't often or otherwise he'll make a full sprint back home or to someone else’s home and call the day over. Their city wasn’t all that safe anymore and the middle-school he attended was the only safe haven he could call so outside of his home.
Even then, it was a well-known fact stated by a few of the teachers in the middle school he went to that no one was allowed to approach the student council president for help —which made him irritated because the student council was supposed to help students— unless they had a death wish. The statement itself was strange but everyone had opted to follow the “secret-golden-rule.” If their teachers told them not to approach him, they’d obey, and not just because of the way they described their student council and due to the tone that his description was spoken in— it was because no one could identify someone that sounded so... “Normal” in a group of middle-school teenagers, a group with crazy quirks manifested inside of them with the dream to be a hero of some sort.
Hero; it made his day brighter anytime he hears that one word. Heroes are the ones fighting for the citizens’ safety and they do so every day with their life on the line. He wanted to be a hero, an amazing one at that, too. He wanted to protect his friends and family and be someone other people could depend on as well.
Still, this 'student council president' didn't seem to be someone that could be called a hero, Hizashi could vaguely recall the frightened expression those group of teachers bore when they spoke— their eyebrows were furrowed together despite how hard they tried to appear calm, they had their mouth pursed as if they made the decision to consume an entire lemon, and Hizashi remembers the strong waves of discomfort which rolled off of their body while they talked about that one student. It certainly made him wonder why that teenager was the council when he made even the teachers looked hesitant about their words.
It also made him question if someone like that could become a hero too, or if someone that sounds anything similar could even wish to be a hero. But then the thought came to mind, maybe he has a quirk more suited to other things in that subject? Maybe that person doesn’t even want to be a hero, which was understandable, but either way—
“His hair is messy like a thorn-filled rose bush devoid of all colors, but black! Pitch black if I do recall.”
“His eyes are covered half of the time when we look, though I hear the street rats say he has eyes as red as the devil’s!”
“To approach that student is to ask for a one-way trip to an unpleasant place... He has an aura that screams ‘superior.’”
“That’s saying if you can even bump into him that is... Hah! Not that anyone wants to.”
Then the lesson about social economics continued, the teacher —including the attentive staffs— brushing off any raised hand with the immediate assumption that they wanted to answer the next question. It left Hizashi in a slight daze to say the least, though that wasn’t to say his classmates weren’t either. They didn't speak as much for the rest of the hour.
At first, he remembered not a single person flinched from their words, nobody batted an eyelash unless it was due to dust getting into their eyes. The more mischievous teens —him included— looked around the modestly sized classroom, eyes darting back and forth from each chair and face to see if there was anyone that suited the description, yet they only saw the strangeness of their classmates and no one that really stood out; everyone already screamed superior in their own subject either had some physical oddity that was represented proudly on their face and/or body, and some were known to have possessed a flashy quirk on the tip of their fingertips. Nothing that caught Hizashi's attention besides the three words, 'student council president.'
But then Tuesday rolled around, it rolled around and hit him in the face pretty quickly when he was attempting to ‘tame’ his quirk with Toshinori and Tsukauchi, two students that he got along with pretty well despite being in different classes most of the time; Hizashi stuck around them whenever he got the chance to, seeing as though no one else wanted to hang around him due to the effects his quirk has on people's hearing. His attempts were obvious as he tried many times to approach his peers but only got brushed off no matter how ‘charismatic’ —as Tsukauchi described him— he seemed. No one wanted to hang around with him except for a few other people, but those other people didn’t favor him or have the patience to stand him as much as those two.
Today wasn’t different, Hizashi woke up all the same— with fear of the possibility of being jumped on the way to school or his parents/mother possibly getting into a fight and dying somehow, his parents weren’t heroes and although he was fine with that, he wish they’d learn how to skillfully use their quirk to defend themselves so he wouldn’t have to play guard dog for the house; not that he minded protecting his family, it’d be rude if he had a problem with doing such but he grew tired staying up late to secure all the locks and closing the gates.
“What time is it...?” Hizashi groaned, his voice cracking and making a small and noisy, high-pitched squeak, “Oh shit I’m gonna be late!”
“You will be if you don’t move it, Yamada!” His mother warned, her words only made him speed quicker off the bed and onto the floor face first, “The food will get cold if you don’t hurry!”
The blond grumbled something indecipherable against the light orange carpeted floor. Using the palm of his hands to press against the ground with the strength one can have at 8 in the morning, Hizashi removed himself from the delightful place and back onto his feet with little effort. His silver blue eyes darted towards the closet momentarily, trying to determine whether he should or should not take a shower with how little time he had to change at all, compared to the time it’ll take for him to arrive at school; he spat a few curses in English so the neighbors could hear —not that they could translate it— and proceeded to attempt at stripping himself naked while walking towards the bathroom.
“Hizashi Yamada! If you are doing what I think you’re doing,” Which he was, stripping in the middle of his room while he gathered his things as the water transitioned from ice cold to hot, “Have the decency to close the windows!”
“Maybe later...” He whispered underneath his breath, his mother’s hearing quirk was always troublesome for someone who was born a child with a quirk practically the polar opposite, plus he didn’t want to get in trouble again because he often made slips on controlling his voice volume
When the water became warm enough for him to jump in, he spent a good 6 minutes to soak. Besides, showering wasn’t so much as a problem as it was to keep his hair up, his bangs were lengthy when they were soaked in water while the rest of it wasn’t and therefore not as even— his hair was layered from the shortest length at the top to the longest at the nape of his neck but never any longer than his shoulder; That was when he was much younger and life for kids who wanted to be heroes —all kids in general then— could do what they want without having to think of the possibilities of what they’re doing could affect their chance of survival.
It wasn’t as bad as he made it sound but Hizashi knows a few neighborhoods that have been visibly marked to be gunned down for overexposure of their quirk in public, he was lucky enough that his parents moved out of those places in time. Either way, robberies happen to their neighbors and his suspicion towards adults raised considerably. This was all he could think about that morning as he would any other, survival and speed.
Hizashi combed his hair upwards, glasses neatly balanced on the bridge of his nose with a smile to finish his profile. All that was left was actually wearing his middle-school uniform and get out of his house with hopes that he’ll get to school on time.
He gazed towards the body mirror leaning against the wall next to his door and whistled, twirling around to admire his reflection before the light of his electronic clock got his attention. Internally screaming and panicking all at once, Hizashi threw open the door abruptly with his glasses bouncing from the lack of caution for a second or two till they landed imperfectly on his face, he listened to his mother give a quiet shout at the slamming sound of his door as he slid down the short banister, nearly falling off the edge with a slapdash form had he not thrown himself off midway. Hizashi sped and turned a corner into the dining room to grab an apple that he then shoved into his face. He got his backpack on as his teeth sank deeper into the apple’s inside.
Only after a minute had to pass for the mother to gather her bearings, and when she did she appeared from the doorway to scold her son briefly about his lack of timing, however, she instead found the door closed and Hizashi on the other side of the door, most likely speeding off with his A+ physical education skills; Mother massaged her temple slowly and sighed fondly as well— this wasn’t at all new to her.
To Hizashi, however, it was new to him when while on his way to his safe haven number two— this teen, standing a few inches shorter than him —from what he could see— had his hair blocking his eyes because of how long, and messy, and unkempt it was. It made him think, “Kind of like a rose-bush filled with thorns but only black...” Then the realization came piecing together with every second passing that his feet paced evenly to match the rumored school council president’s own haste, not that he could call it haste, the shorter male seemed so contempt walking slowly to the school he practically ruled.
“I mean with all the rumors piling behind you yeah, you're feared and stuff...” He mumbled to himself, unaware of how close he actually was to the raven, “But if you think about it, you gotta be pretty lonely with how much disgust everyone holds— not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just that no one wants to be friends with you because of how ‘demonic like’ you sound...”
At this point, Aizawa Shouta— the student council president, otherwise known as the wallflower student no one notices but fears silently in the corner as they do their own thing with him at least three steps ahead of them— became well adjusted to Hizashi’s mumbling, he would call it pleasant had it been about anything except his misjudged reputation; not that anyone ever wanted to approach him for a proper conversation anyway, not unless they wanted to talk about someone they know or used to know and that person’s ‘going away,’ how torn apart they were while he sits patiently on his spiny-office chair with shaded eyes painted charcoal black to soak in the information handed to him.
The school building didn’t seem that far anymore, with Hizashi’s comical muttering about him and his reputation keeping his mind company, Aizawa’s usually long walk to school had been cut short by an excessive amount. That doesn't mean he didn’t like arriving to school faster than what the clock records, but it didn’t mean he enjoyed the blond’s consistent chattering as his volume and tone seemed to be speeding down an intense rollercoaster every time after he mentions ‘Aizawa’ or ‘the scary school council president no one really talks about but fears,’ either.
‘Must be his quirk’ Aizawa thought lamely, speeding towards the double doors, ‘I wonder if I can erase it.’
He means it when he thinks, 'I wonder,' Aizawa really didn’t know what quirks he could or couldn’t erase, all he knew was that his parents gave birth to a child with extremely dry eyes in desperate need of quality eye drops, and with the dry eyes came a quirk that involved staring long enough at an opponent to cancel their quirk. What was worse than that was that his quirk did not magnify his strength or help intimidate others so they would not mock every little action he did due to his lack of... Everything, but fortunately for someone like Aizawa, he was a wallflower painted over by society with nothing more to do than to listen rather than look, they left him alone as time passed.
Aizawa was first to approach the double doors that were dressed with ancient paint layered messily and peeling off the door, he was hesitant to open it with someone behind him but did so just to avoid the possibility of a student arriving to his class tardy due to the council president’s inability to open a door with the speed of a regular human being. However, when he did open the door, Aizawa also stepped to the side to let the student trailing behind him in just at the same moment the other tried to do the same thing.
“O-oh so uhm... This is... New,” ‘Usually you’d call it awkward, but you look like one of those neon-colored-popular kids so I take that back’ “Are you uhm... The student council president...?”
He nodded curtly with an empty stare and proceeded to head into the building with stride, hoping that whatever class he remembers being his homeroom would be the class that student doesn’t go to— he didn’t want to be in the same class with someone whose hair was stronger than any gravity manipulation quirk, plus his light orange glasses with the ability to magnify the intense gaze and charismatic aura that began to grow more intimidating than Aizawa himself; mind you, he’s the one trying to scare people off.
But despite Aizawa’s desire for his suspicions being false, Hizashi did indeed —’Unfortunately’— attend the same class as him, seeing as though the blond was still around, and had chose the wisest choice and trailed several feet behind him in as much of a casual pace as he could manage while being somewhat slower than his. The tallest of the two waited patiently beside the door while the other opened it, eyes turned to Aizawa but then to Hizashi who’s orbs glanced towards the clock— late, he was late and it now looked like he was being escorted to his class for doing something ‘crazy,’ he could tell from the pitying gazes that lingered on his person.
“Ah, A-Aizawa-san, it’s nice to finally see you... Again,” Their teacher attempted a greeting but their eyes seemed more than enough proof that a greeting wasn’t what they were trying to imply in their words, the teacher wanted nothing to do with the raven
“Aizawa?... I’ll keep that in mind for later references,” Hizashi spoke aloud, his closed fist connecting to an open palm when a sudden realization came to mind, “A-ah wait! I’m still in class, whoops, sorry guys...” It was a weak attempt at trying to be humorous
The students who were familiar with his attitude only chuckled or gave him a small smile where the teacher ‘tsk’ed’ and redirected the blond to his seat, which —as everyone around Hizashi and Aizawa realized— was nowhere near the council president.
It was obvious, Hizashi sat surrounded by more recognizable people with a reputation of their own who claims the title of being his ‘friends,’ which was easily proven wrong when the other students debunked it with the major fact of, “They don’t even hang out with each other” courtesy of their teacher; Aizawa, on the other hand, sat right next to the window where the heat of the sunlight was mostly present and casted over the table, his face wasn’t shown behind the large worn out, vanilla scarf which made him all the more a mystery.
His eyes turned to the board as class continued with people developing the habit of throwing suspicious and worried looks around the room, as if it’d be the last day they’d see it, not that Hizashi cared, he was more concern about whether or not it would be a good idea to approach Aizawa— although the blond did want more friends and more people he could introduce to Toshinori and Tsukauchi to prove that, yes, I am able to socialize, but at this point... He also wanted to be able to move into one of his friends’ class, Hizashi hated the looks —e.g. annoyed glares and fearful gazes— other students gave him, he wanted to be safe and the idea of moving to a class with someone he’s able to associate himself with seemed to be easier than any other option he could think of.
‘I mean, confronting them is something I can easily do,’ Hizashi thought, pondering and playing out the scenarios that could happen if he did approach them for a talk, ‘But that’d mean I’d have to talk to half of the class, no thanks— although I could ask the teacher...’
The idea of talking to one of his many drama-causing teachers came to mind alongside the many rumors of how seniors tried due to their own similar problems, that idea was crossed out quicker than he could think about it any further.
‘Definitely not doing that... Man...’ He released a breath of hot air he’s been holding in order to avoid having to make an attempt to hide his sigh, his eyes sweeping across the row of students in front of him, ‘You really can’t trust anyone in this school...Well, except maybe the library people that actually study in there...’
Ah, the library; it wasn’t a place he visited as often as he’d like to, but it made him wonder if Aizawa spends his time in the library— the teen seemed like someone that would prefer reading and endorsing himself in the old papers of ancient novels or attempting to write a long scroll to be sent to a king on papyrus with a quill feather and ink; Hizashi choked on his spit trying to contain the giggles that viciously threatened to come out, the first person he looked to see if they noticed him internally dying —besides his peers, of course— which was the raven, did not seem to even be awake it looked more like he was sleeping peacefully without the teacher raising a finger to disturb.
Hizashi couldn’t help but be the tiniest envious of him for being able to slip away from everyone’s —’Well maybe not everyone if you caught my attention, which... Isn’t out of the norm at all, actually’— attentive eyes. People were easily paranoid and if they aren’t paranoid then they’ve accepted the way society is, which confused Hizashi because he couldn’t see why they weren’t scared, but that wasn’t his business and for some reason Aizawa’s very being was.
Aizawa, the simple name of some stranger rolled off his tongue when he mouthed it behind the palm of his hand, although it looked strange to see him randomly covering his mouth, it really wasn’t because somewhere during the beginning of this year —7th grade and one more year to go— the entire class suddenly grouped together without him and deemed the title fit for someone like him was, “Loud Weirdo,” and for some reason Hizashi accepted it with a shrug and a bemused expression about where those two words originated from.
Reputation didn’t really matter as long as he had someone he was friends with and even then he probably wouldn’t care who he’s friends with because they could tolerate his quirk, and sometimes Hizashi would wonder if it was his quirk that was driving everyone away or his lack of willpower to approach someone.
“Hizashi-kun! The bell has rung, get your things and move onto 2nd period,” He hears the teacher warn
He jumped out of his monolog and gave the teacher —who scoffed lightheartedly— an apologetic grin for having to wake him out of his daydreaming again that year. Hizashi snatched the pens that fell out of his pocket and threw his backpack over his shoulder, then began to make haste out the door, before he did leave he first turned his head to see if Aizawa was behind him— which he was but the raven’s eyes had remained to gaze at anything except for him, or at least he assumed that Aizawa wasn't looking at him, he couldn't really tell.
They both turned their head either towards the hallway beginning to empty out or to the granite tiles of the second floor, from the section that leads to the art room and where a short passage would be that lead into the banter-filled music class, that was where the two split into their own path. Obviously, they had chosen different classes for this part of their schedule.
The difference between the blond who remained lost in his own thoughts and the raven who had turned around knowing that Hizashi had been following and looking at him occasionally, but had stopped, was that now it was his chance to give a glance for every detail he couldn’t catch from the frequent —and faint— reflection off the windows they passed. Aizawa’s pitch black eyes ran from the wrinkles caused by the pants being too tight on Hizashi’s legs and therefore creating defined lines to show off his calf muscle; Hizashi’s figure began growing smaller as he walked but he that didn’t stop him from admiring the blond’s arms and that neck— Aizawa would love to get a clear drawing of that blond in his —not really— empty sketchbook.
'I wonder if he'd let me,' Aizawa thought briefly, 'Probably not but I don't think he'll really notice.'
When Hizashi completely disappeared, Aizawa mentally announced that he was done with his examination, and then maneuvered to his seat like an experienced bird would without a single mind in the class caring about where he went or why he chose to linger at the doorway, no one looked his way unless it was to ask if he knew about one of the terms on the whiteboard.
The rest of the second period went well for Aizawa with how everyone disregarded him and let him sketch out whatever ‘ominous’ —which the art teacher approved of, creativity apparently— creature from the raven’s exhausted mind that was being given life on paper.
As for Hizashi, the blond continued to stare off into space whenever the entire class wasn’t blasting his ears —and their own— with music that screamed discord, it wasn’t a bad thing because all they did was review small songs and learned a few notes to a new one, it went well.
Third period and fourth period was easily ignored by the both of them in their own way.
Aizawa had been removed from P.E., his third-period class and into the nurse’s room to sleep the period away due to his health ‘problems,’ truthfully, the nurses just favored his company and conversations; the conversations they liked was where Aizawa couldn’t reply with his usual sharp and blunt tongue because the nurse that was currently present having to spray him with sleeping gas —a gift from a student in a different school apparently— that had an 'immediate' effect which threw him into a loop the nurses described as... “Anything that contrasted his dreary personality,” and “He’s like an actual 13-year-old now, look at him! He’s asking for gummy bears.”
Wasn’t exactly his proudest moment.
And as for the blond that seemed to possess a layer of charismatic aura and bore soft eyes that Toshinori called intimidating, he was lolling around in each class where he transitioned between having one of his two friends. Everyone looked at him from time to time to see what he was doing, what he was ‘doing’ was looking deeply into white walls while contemplating the meaning of life, or trying to stop one, highly bored and looking for trouble, Tsukauchi —third period buddy— from humming songs he knows he could sing aloud without a stutter. Something that was exceedingly tempting.
However, somewhere within his mind, he couldn’t shake off the cold and jealous stares that roamed his body in the fourth period and from the way Toshinori gripped at his pencil when he randomly handed it over to Hizashi, it was noticeable and the teacher didn't do a single thing to stop them.
He couldn’t help but let out a distressed sigh without thinking about what his classmates would think, Hizashi was really tired of the rumors passing about in school where, “If you get too close to that cockatiel weirdo, Hizashi Yamada you might go deaf!”that wasn’t new at all, he’s heard it in elementary as well; but then they said “I bet you he probably sleeps with Naomasa-kun and Toshinori-kun,” that one made them all frown but was debunked fast although it still lingers faintly; and lastly, “I heard he made his parents bleed from their ears when he was born..... Maybe that’s why he never talks about his parents.”
‘First of all, my mom is doing great— her ears are better than fine,’ Was what he wanted to say but never managed the will to, too many people to repeat those lines to if he actually wanted to waste time resolving a rumor, ‘And my dad is... Being a dad that works hard far away which is great so fuck off.' His dad does visit from time to time
At this point he was desperate for some sort of help instead of being defined even more by his quirk and a colossal titan of a list with rumors that have been around even before he could walk on his feet, Hizashi strains himself in trying as best as he could to ignore the dirty stares given to him by fellow student and look to the teachers —that were a little sympathetic— for help but he knows that everything will repeat again the next day. Maybe that's why no actual adult bothered to help him.
Then lunch arrived with the sound of the bell ringing loudly and swiftly. Unceremoniously and roughly to show that he did not want to be there anymore, Hizashi jumped from his seat and took with him his assignment in a single swipe and grasped his backpack’s strap from having to sit solemnly by his feet, repeating the same swinging motion to move his backpack over his shoulder, the blond left. He knew that Toshinori was still gathering his things and that he had just abandoned his friend to be swarmed by the wants of other students, but he chose to not look back because he knows Toshinori doesn’t mind letting him be alone when he’s upset— the man was a grade A to-be-dad sort of friend.
Where could he go now, though? Where could he go besides the... The library.
Hizashi barely ever goes to the library— actually, Hizashi doesn’t even go to the library unless it was to finish up whatever questions he failed to answer on a test or so, he never actually went to go study or check out a book to read. Though he really needs to.
“Is the library even open today?” Hizashi asked no one, his footsteps echoing within his ears with every heavy click from his worn out shoes when they hit the floor, “Where the hell is the library even located?”
“Go straight from the lunch court to the mini garden near the track field and turn right again,” He whirled around, eyes wide only to meet a disinterested looking Aizawa with a leather messenger bag on his right hip and a large sketchbook pressed against his chest, “Are you done checking me out.”
“U-uh, A-Aizawa-kun?” The feeling of intense disapproval clawed at his eyes and made him blink a few times until he shrugged internally and beamed hopefully, “Wow! I can’t believe I get to talk to the infamous Aizawa that lurks around the school, I’m Hizashi Yamada, you— H-hey wait! You can’t just walk away from someone when they’re talking!”
Hizashi sprinted right next to Aizawa who showed a blatant disregard for Hizashi, that pissed him off but at the same time made him feel a little happy. From what Aizawa could see, there was a glow from the blond being 'happy' present around his body —speaking of happiness, Hizashi was damn near skipping— and so he had tuned Hizashi out while the other talked more and more about himself and his needs. Which he was there for so Aizawa didn't care much, the counselors in this school didn’t do much so they only sent them to the nurse's office to sleep it off or cry; so yes, although Aizawa muted him he did bother to catch keywords that were mentally jotted down about what he found was important.
When they got through the hallway and began their stroll through the lunch court, they picked up the pace because even though nobody wanted to pay attention to Aizawa, they sure wanted to know where the class ‘idiot’ —even though his grades are in the top 5 chart for their middle school— went. Good grades and lack of courage in his quirk always made him a great target for large idiots with overconfidence in their own quirk.
“...—Then I figured, maybe you can help me with my problem? You’re the school’s council president so I figured you can do something,” Hizashi’s volume didn’t drop by a single percentage when they walked into the library, no one there to greet them except the smell of old literature, “Plus you’re really scary and stuff...”
“I’m not going to help you,” A simple statement, uttered loud enough for the blond to hear from Aizawa's mostly covered mouth
One of the two stopped in the middle of the room while the other fitted themselves within the coldness of a long forgotten leather armchair, Aizawa arched his back over his sketchbook while Hizashi replayed the words over and over again— it wasn’t new to him, the concept of being denied what he wanted, but he actually needed this because it hurts like hell being rejected by his own classmates due to his own quirk being different and apparently, more ‘dangerous,’ weren’t all quirks dangerous? He asked himself that many times and answering with a definite, "Yes," no matter what, that was why he needed to be moved or at least given some sort of reassurance that, "No, your quirk does not make you the reincarnate of Satan and that you can make friends and become a hero like everyone else."
Aizawa, although sketching the person that stood still —not that he minded, he actually needed him to stand still— noticed the atmosphere being drowned in a blended mixture of emotions he was very familiar with; It looked like Hizashi is either going to blow up verbally, mentally or... Physically on him, whatever was going to happen didn’t look good for the raven, though the sketch did, Aizawa managed to get the rough sketch finished when a good three minutes passed despite the blond remaining frozen on the floor like a statue. But something went amiss because of Hizashi’s glasses, Aizawa couldn’t see that he was looking at him with eyes trying to analyze every fiber present in his being with something akin to distress and undetected malice.
It was then after a good three minutes did they notice how alone they actually were. The librarian wasn’t present and Aizawa had been the one that possessed the key to unlocking the doors, they know the cameras won’t be turned on in an unused room, and the tour around the school had said that the library was soundproof from the inside just in the cases that a classroom threw a massive party at the end of the year in the back of the library. So yes, nobody was there to restrict what they could do, nobody to tell Hizashi that he couldn’t—
“Why?” His quirk activated unconsciously with his rage, the simple word sounded like a shrill shriek despite him not putting any effort into actually raising his tone to an unbearable level, though he wanted to, “You are the student council, you are supposed to help the students!”
And after what seemed to be a minute albeit being half a minute, Aizawa finally chose to shift his position because he felt uncomfortable being bent over constantly. His ears did hurt but there had been much more painful things than being yelled at.
“Are you kidding me!” Hizashi made his move, walking closer to the teen with hair that shaded his face and shrouded his expression, something seemed to glow a faint rectory red but he didn’t notice, “I literally get people glaring at me like I’m the person that invented the concept of villains, I can’t even make friends without feeling as if someone’s going run to the police and report me for fucking speaking! An— w-wait...”
Hizashi threw his hands around his neck, touching different parts in bewilderment as if Aizawa had pulled a magic trick and threw some sort of invisible dagger that stole his ability to scream like a banshee, but alas, he was unharmed. Hizashi's silver-blue eyes widened and he felt an oddly cold sensation creeping around in his throat, he was panicking and frightened because no he doesn’t have a quirk for some reason, and he doesn’t even know how to defend himself in a fight properly. Not unless messily thrown punches. What were the chances that someone that people talked about being the demon’s incarnate knew how to fight hand-to-hand combat?
'I am so fucking screwed,' He thought, stopping his movements as if his mother caught him breaking out into a long rant that involved the use of colorful language about someone he particularly disliked
While he froze and internally screamed for the gods to send help and maybe a comfort blanket, Aizawa stood up from his leather armchair all warmed up, and moved in front of Hizashi’s pale and somehow-turning-paler face, in one of his hand was a collection of colored pencils looking too sharp for comfort and in the other was his sketchbook that looks heavier than he originally perceived it to be. And when Aizawa’s face was inches from his with the help of tiptoeing —’What... That’s... Adorable and blackmail material, he’s really short,’ Hizashi thought— did he see the outline of the other's face, and from being so close to him, Hizashi couldn't help but also be aware of the duller shade of red being extinguished over time as the color faded into black underneath Aizawa's veil of thick hair as well.
Though that didn't exactly comfort him.
For one thing, Aizawa was too close for him to feel safe; Second, Hizashi found it incredible how the ‘scariest’ person the school talks about has to tiptoe to see him; and third, Aizawa Shouta just took his glasses and now his face feels cold and bare, not to mention the gaze that seemed to analyze everything on his face made him flinch and twitch. Hizashi's eyes slid over to observe the hand that was holding all of the sharpened color pencils move up near his neck —also near the raven’s cheek due to their height differences— and brush a group of black strands of hair out of Aizawa’s sight. Hizashi could see those narrowed down and tired eyes of his now, the council president could also be pretty attractive if he didn't bleed the exact aura of a villain.
‘Oh my god, it’s like I’m staring into the abyss,’ Hizashi found himself thinking while being lost in orbs that neared the smooth blackness that matched the teacher's description, ‘And the abyss is staring back at me, holy shit the abyss is staring back at me and I’m somehow alive.’
“Ah,” A puff of warm air blew into his face, Hizashi could smell the faint traces of dark minty chocolate and it smelled really nice, “Your eyes are silver blue,” and with the awkwardness of a failed dinner date, Aizawa pushed his orange-tinted glasses back onto his face
The shortest proceeded to stop tiptoeing —Only now did Hizashi notice that his legs were shaking from staying in that position for too long; blackmail material— and placed his attention back into the handful of colored pencils, moving and shifting the bunch around until he looked accomplished as he successfully pulled out two and shoved the rest back into his bag. Aizawa seemed genuinely happy albeit his face remaining monotone.
And then, Hizashi had an idea.
“Were you... Drawing me?” He asked, “Isn’t that like... I don’t know, not allowed if I’m not uncomfortable with it?”
“Were you uncomfortable?” Hizashi nodded, Aizawa continued in a blank and disinterested tone, “Are you going to report it?”
The idea?
“Not if you do me one favor...” ‘If you become my friend, the rumor will most likely spread and people will still be scared of me but I won’t need to protect myself from them,’ “Hang out with me and my friends!” ‘Plus I can flaunt you off in my first-period class now.’
He thought about it, 'he' being Aizawa— being friends with a temperamental student that possessed a quirk able to destroy his ability to hear if he wanted to? That would be the end of him, but not being the student council president also means he doesn’t get to randomly appear in classes he wants to appear in. Sure he’s abusing his powers and most of the staff knows that half of the things he does as a student —no matter what position— shouldn’t be allowed to do, but no one says anything; and then this cockatiel of a student— Hizashi Yamada, shows up and makes an upfront threat to his position and abilities?
Well, Aizawa couldn’t say he didn’t like it, and the idea of having a friend sounded oddly nice.
“My name is Aizawa Shouta," He introduced himself with a bow and looked up to see the absolutely blinding grin on the idiot’s face, on the brighter side of things, it made him feel warmer than his scarf ever did, “Don't touch me nor call me by my first name.”
“That’s okay!” Aizawa's black eyes bore into the silver-blue behind the other’s glasses, Hizashi then thinks, ‘As time goes by I’m pretty sure you won’t notice me calling you Shouta anyway,’ but instead says, “Hey, wanna come over for dinner?”
They continued the conversation with a blond ranting about how hard it was to navigate through the school safely while a raven listened intently, it didn't seem like Aizawa was paying attention but Hizashi knew better. Their discussion was sadly cut short after the lunch bell rang to signify the chat period ending, Hizashi found himself dragging —not physically, he’s respectful enough— Aizawa to his next period, but just like the cliche stories the two have read before, the rest of the day went fine because the rest of the classes they had were together.