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Hizashi Yamada, a bright, cheerful soul, loved by many and loved all. He was often compared to the sun since his shine never stopped, at least it never stopped until he sets and the moon took his place. His hair, bright yellow as everyone sees the sun, but his personality is where he shone from. His goofy grin, ear to ear that everyone loved or hated. His laugh, that bubbly, contagious noise that'd erupt from him. He could draw mostly anyone in with ease; he made anyone go from having no one to having someone.
He was always a loud guy, since birth to high school, the quirk has some part of it, but it's mostly because that's who he was. He'd walk up to anyone and start any conversation. Compliment them, share an interest, ask them a random question. Before anyone realized it, his small and random chats became something they looked forward to; they began liking him. Some considered him a friend, others just that classmate who you don't mind.
Hizashi Yamada, a bright, cheerful soul, loved by many, but not loved by all. He would often blind those around him with how bright he shone; most people could never handle it. Family, friends, teachers, anyone. Everyone loves to see artificial, manmade light, instead of natural light. He sometimes felt like a firefly; people loved to capture them, called them pretty, but they weren't used for anything else. Eventually everyone forgot about fireflies, and their lights were dimmed, and streetlights took over their glow. Everyone was worn down by his enthusiasm, how he woke each day bright and happy. They were annoyed by the positive attitude he had, often calling it "too much"
Hizashi Yamada, a bright, cheerful soul, loved by many, but never all and it'll never be all. He'll always blind himself and turn to the artificial light. He was never upset with anyone when they'd turn around and leave, when he'd hear the negative words leave their mouths. He knew how much he was, he knew he was "too much". They never remember though, that sometimes the sun needs a break, they never think that's why the moon comes out while the sun hides. It's hard to shine brightly all the time, it's hard without burning yourself, without tiring your own eyes out and causing them to ache.
Hizashi Yamada, bright and proud, but not as smiley as he shows. He sees everyone be themselves, but he wishes he could be himself. The sun who was always there for everyone, sometimes wanted someone there for him. Just to see his actual side and not be upset when they aren't meant with the bright guy everyone sees, but also when they are that they won't close the blinds and shut the curtains in his face.
But the sun won't get that someone, so he just watches the moon, wondering how the moon can be itself with no fear, or judgement.
Shota Aizawa, a bland, tired soul, who didn't have anyone who loved him. He was hidden amongst the shadows, people often wondering who he was since they only ever saw glimpses of him before he disappeared without a trace. Shota was often compared with the moon; he shone in his hero skills, but everything else was concealed by the sun. The moon is the suns shadow, hidden in the darkness, and never important. No one noticed him, no one stays up to look at the moon, but everyone is awake to look at the sun.
Shota Aizawa, the man that never connected anyone, never brought people together. He was too bland for anyone's attention, sometimes he feels the suns stare but that's because the sun looked upon everyone, even the moon. Out of everyone though, Shota knew he was still too bland for Hizashi, that's why he's never talked to him. Shota before wondered how someone could shine so brightly, but the more he observed, the more he realized it was all a facade. His green eyes never looked tired to the average eye. Everyone could see the smile, but Shota didn't see a crinkle in his eyes. Hizashi's hands never stopped moving, always excited, but Shota could see the slight shake of nerves over his unnaturally soft hands. His voice never quiets down, but everyone ignores the slight edge to it.
Shota noticed it all because he was quite the "opposite" of Hizashi. His black midnight eyes that screamed from restless nights. His smile no one could recall because it has never shown. His hands were scarred, calloused, from many nights of overtraining. His voice never spoke, no one knew what he was thinking.
Shota Aizawa, a bland, tired soul, who loved how he was a shadow. He loved how the darkness consumed him. No one expected anything besides himself, he never had to live up to someone's standards or worry about their opinions on him. He didn't understand Yamada Hizashi, didn't understand the struggle it was to be in the spotlight, to keep up the act. He never knew the struggle to be loved by many but not loved by all. He didn't know the importance of the moon rising after the sun sets, but he noticed the way Hizashi would let out a sigh of relief when Shota somehow takes the attention of the class during heroics. The moon rising gives little to the sun as a break, everyone is asleep during then after all, but even that tiny moment is enough for the sun to catch its breath, but a breather is all it can take before everyone turns their head, expecting better from the light than the dark.
Hizashi, who often noticed the moon, staying up late at night to stare out his window, his bags showing after hours of covering them. He wished the moon would look back, since he often thought of Shota while staring at the beautiful glow from the midnight sky. He got no answers from staring at the moon though, he was always disappointed with Shota too, and before he knew it, he was waking up in the morning, covering his bags with the foundation and counselor he wore every day. Throwing on his sunglasses people assume is for style, but really, it's to keep from blinding himself, to help cover the horribly bright sun no one seemed to like anyways.
Shota, who noticed the sun, but never glanced at him for his eyes ached, not because of how bright the sun was, but because he was tired of seeing an act, wondering how someone could hide themselves from the world. Shota walked around in his dark eyes, and his eyes were free of sunglasses because he never got burned by the sun that only one person seemed to like.
Shota could show himself, as the moon he had no expectations, no images to uphold, no one to keep happy or impress. His hands didn't have to be soft; his eyes didn't have to be bright and have a full night of rest on them, his irritated and annoyed face accompanying the eyebags often made anyone who look his way quickly turn back.
Hizashi though, had that image to uphold. He had to keep people happy or impress them. His hands had to be soft, so he covered them in lotion and cream until the cracks were gone, making sure nothing showed. His eyes had to have that make up on, not only to cover, but to help add some sparkle with a little bit of highlighter or white eyeshadow, he wanted everyone to believe his eyes were a bright, beautiful emerald color, and not the dull nephrite that it really was.
Hizashi always watched the moon, not just the moon itself, but Shota. How he trained, watching him fall and bruise and bleed just to get back up and keep at it. How the midnight of his eyes bored into the clock on the wall behind him, seated in the very corner where hardly anyone else sat. The moon was a bland, tired soul, but one Hizashi wanted to know. Hizashi waited for the moon to glance his way, even if for a second, but their eyes never met.
Shota never watched the sun. He hated seeing the smiles that were easily fake, because there was no crinkle like so many real smiles had, and that his smile would falter slightly, so slightly he almost missed it himself. He was tired of the lotion on the hands, and the dull nephrite eyes that try so hard to shine as bright as the rest of him. He could see the exhaustion; he could feel it from just walking past the blonde.
The sun was slowly going out like a candle, getting dimmer and dimmer. The spark is leaving, and the moon knows it. The moon shining brighter to take some of the burden the sun carries, but he can't live up to the same degree as the sun. The moon would notice everything overtime, like the spark leaving, and the wandering eyes.
Shota finally looked up to see the dull nephrite eyes that he expected to see. Staring at him didn't burn as other described it, maybe it's because Shota saw stars instead of the sun; bright and beautiful but not enough to burn or hold expectations. His eyes were lovely, they matched Shota's and Shota didn't mind it. He watched Hizashi's face go from one of gloom to a slight shock. He smiled, and his eyes crinkled, and there was no falter, nor a shake of the hand. Shota thinks for a moment he sees that real Hizashi no one ever got to see.
Hizashi didn't expect to meet midnight eyes. His gaze wasn't sharp or irritated like everyone who caught a glimpse said. His eyes were soft, so soft Hizashi could see his own reflection, but not the 'Hizashi' everyone else sees, but his actual self. Hizashi smiled, it was nice to feel understood and seen. His fingers that shook slightly stopped, and he felt his eyes crinkle, dimming his vision slightly.
The sun finally found his someone. Someone who understood him, who could relate even if in different ways. The moon cared, and it was dumb of them both to not realize the moon and sun will always need each other. The dim from the moon was enough for the sun to prefer his light over the manmade kind. The smile from the sun was enough for the moon to find his own smile and show it once in a while.