They may bear their teeth to all the world, but never to you

[sneaks]

S T R A Y shipping meme Taking in strays is, all in all, an understandable vice. The dips in between their ribs, those large and forlorn eyes, they can help you forget the claws and the teeth and the danger lurking beneath fur. But the habit's a knife edge; your efforts may not be rewarded with kindness (animal instincts aren't discretionary) and you may get bit despite what you've overlooked. A stray doesn't care about pity. All it can know is survival. These warnings apply to strays of the more human(oid) sort, too. But what may even more perilous with this type than any drawn blood is what you can get when they grow to trust you. You can earn their undying loyalty...or their love. Either from such a wild thing is a precarious path to go down, if you allow yourself to do it. Comment with your character, preferences, desired roles, etc. Reply to others. Thread! ＰＲＯＭＰＴＳ ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them? ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors. ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able. ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care. ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced. sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss — ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand. sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep. sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will. ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly. ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought. ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station? ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before. ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference. ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you? ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point. ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with. ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave. ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them. ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here. ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone. ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed. ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again. ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so. ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

Comments

[almightiness]

[Toshinori laughs lightly, pointing towards him.]

Are you sure you're not the one feeling well?

[Why so shy about it, buddy?]

And I'm serious! Why? Because you've slept on the couch plenty here. And believe it or not, I can handle a couch; if I can handle the Toxic Chainsaw, I can handle sleeping across a couch.

[He puts his hands on his hips and smiles, a sort of bright remnant of All Might, not quite so wide and blinding but confident and optimistic.]

[dryeyes]

[Of course he's not feeling well, he's infected by the most debilitating disease of all: infatuation. It was insidious, painful, and as far as he'd researched there wasn't a simple cure. How irritating.]

Why are you so attached to the idea, now? [he's grumbling, mentally pouring over more reasons to say no. Maybe if he had just said nothing, the whole thing would have gone by, just an idle comment. Serves him right for digging his heels in.]

I'm not going to force you onto the couch in your own home. [Never mind that "force" wasn't involved, he was practically having to force Toshinori to stay in it.] I'm used to sleeping in various places, so it's not worth trading if you end up sore, even for a night. [Ah, before this he was much better at just saying "no" and leaving it at that. Why did he find a need to justify it so many times? Just because it was the last night?] And I'm not ready for Recovery Girl's glare if she finds out I let you do that. [A perfectly rational list of reasons!]

If you insist on making me sleep in a bed, we'd be sharing. [There it is, the gay chicken ultimatum.]

[almightiness]

[This is a Predicament.

He stares for a moment, considering his options. Well! He feels a little self-conscious about the thought of sharing a bed -- he's sickly, anyway, and he'd probably cough and roll and make sleep pretty unsettled for Aizawa. And he's so gangly, he'd probably kick him or take the covers or something. And what if he sleeptalks? He can be a little active in his head, when he's out cold. What if he says something entirely embarrassing?

....................

But he doesn't want Aizawa to feel like... he's icky or something.

He trusts the man, and it's not like he'd be lying around with a stranger.

He's shared beds in high school, nothing weird about it.

... Yeah.]

Alright then! If that doesn't bother you!

[Is it gay chicken if Toshinori doesn't remotely think of gay chicken?]

[1/4]

[dryeyes]

[In his eyes, it's the perfect defense. He wouldn't just let another person so easily into his bed, right? There had to be some sacred barrier there, unlike just the home, where he'd managed to invade. Even if they were friends, that would clearly be an element of "too much." From him, it'd be too direct of a suggestion and Toshinori would refuse and-]

[dryeyes]

[Ah.]

[dryeyes]

[He'd clearly not expected it to be accepted. He can't hide the surprise on his face, despite how he tries, with his hand coming up to try and hide part of his expression.]

[There's an out right there. Take it. Say it bothers him. Say it's immensely bothersome. Say that, despite suggesting it, he's 100% opposed and he never expected him to say yes and this whole thing is a mistake.]

[4/4]

[dryeyes]

... alright, then.

[Was his expression normal, at least? After all, he needed to act like this wasn't some big deal. He needed to act like it was a normal situation of letting a coworker into his bed. As if there was some universe in which that was normal! Nothing about this was normal and his mind is going a thousand kilometers a minute and he's not going to sleep a wink tonight. He's not going to get anything done tonight.]

[It's a game of gay chicken with himself and he keeps losing.]

[almightiness]

Excellent!!

[He claps his hands together, beaming in victory.

Something they can both appreciate! Only -- give him a moment, because... Ah. He actually looked kind of surprised there for a moment. Was it a bigger deal, was he just teasing him, or? With a slightly smaller smile and a clearing of his throat, he says:]

If I make you uncomfortable at all, I'll leave it to you, though!

[He'd never want to make him feel awkward, that's for sure.]

But I promise to not hog the blankets.

[He gives one of those obnoxious thumbs up. Come along, my friend, let's sleep!

... And then he can realize how awkward it is, once they're both in bed.]

[dryeyes]

[It's another out, that he won't take. Toshinori was truly both kind and merciless.]

[Instead he gets ready for sleep while suppressing all the nervous energy in his body. Usually he didn't particularly care what he slept in, but he'll change to his formal pink sweatpants and a clean shirt.]

[His first thought is that Toshinori's bed is much more crowded with Toshinori in it. That much should be obvious. And he can't act like he has a point of comparison, here. He ends up lying on his back because the other options (face-to-face? back-to-back?) all seemed more embarrassing. Sure, there wasn't anything inherently off about it, and sure he'd shared beds with people before, but...]

[Honestly, reminding him of sharing a room with Hizashi on the school trip... he really hadn't grown at all when it came to this, had he. It was never easy to share a bed with someone he liked.]

[almightiness]

[He's not unused to casual Aizawa, though it is pretty weird to have gotten used to, huh?

God, its weird. He had started that first school year thinking the man hated him. Now...]

If I end up kicking you or something, you can definitely kick back.

[A grin, mischievous.

Toshinori lays on his side after his routine taking of medication, giving a rather pleasant 'good night' with a glance over his shoulder -- and... then... he lays there for a little bit, looking at the wall. Oh. Well, this is unusual. He hadn't actually expected to have a hard time falling asleep; he'd just nearly fallen asleep on the couch, and unlike before his injury, he didn't have the boundless nighttime energy he used to. But you know, the weariness does eventually smother his conflicting thoughts (chiefly, "did Aizawa feel awkward, should I have been sure, why is this sleeping thing taking so long").

The knobby spine that faces Aizawa has a gentle breathing to it, a peaceful sleep. Every once and a while, he coughs softly. And in the middle of Aizawa texting Mic, Toshinori does flip over, his long, skinny arm flopping while the back of his hand stops to rest, just slightly, over the other man's heartbeat.

Laying down, his eyes don't look nearly so sunken as they do in the harder lighting.

He almost looks kinda peaceful, and this time he's not in a damn hospital bed.]

[dryeyes]

[He'd never hated him. He'd also never gotten the chance to clarify how he'd actually felt. How different would these last months have been if he had said something then? Ah, no point in worrying about it. He's tapping out another reply to Mic when the shift happens, and-]

[It's like before, when he'd had the other man sleeping on his lap, that immediate panicked moment of "is he going to wake up?" So the heartbeat under the other's hand is faster than it should be. He only briefly sees the other's face under the light of the cell phone before it's quickly shifted off, lest the dim light give any reason for the other to wake up. Then it's just him, Toshinori, and his own excited heartbeat.]

[With no Mic as a distraction, what else is there to take his attention but Toshinori? As his eyes adjusted, he could make out little details of the other's face, the rough mess of his hair... Honestly, most of him was a mess. But he liked him, regardless. He briefly considers the idea Hizashi suggested, that maybe this wasn't some hopeless, one-sided thing. As if that sleepy gesture were some sort of sign.]

[Ah, no. That was dangerous. It was better to just indulge as it was. He gently lifts one hand up and places it over Toshinori's, palm to palm. If he didn't sleep at all, then the would definitely wake up before the other, so... Slowly, gently, he laces their fingers together. Such skinny, bony fingers. He definitely shouldn't like this. His heart rate slows, only a little, and his rate of texting slows a lot, now that he has one hand occupied.

[almightiness]

[He shifts just slightly, not waking to the touch; instead, his fingers curl a bit instinctively, and despite how thin his hands have gotten, they're still rather behemoth, in the grand scheme of things, against Aizawa's palm. His brow furrows just slightly, as if deep in thought in his own little world beyond sleep, and he mumbles... what was that...?]


... Never fear... why... because... m'here...


[... Hopeless. Bless his stupid heart.

Minutes later, softer, spoken at god knows what:]


... Cute...

[dryeyes]

[He didn't somehow rummage through the other's things so much without realizing he had a sleeptalking habit. It still made his heart briefly stop, though, before realizing it was just some idle nonsense. Was he rescuing people even in his sleep? No wonder he was overworked.]

[Still, he smiles, a little, at the ridiculousness of it.]

[... not at "cute," though. That was a bit different from the usual sleep-mumbling. And, perhaps, it was delivered right at a moment when Aizawa was prepared to take offense to it. Not that- of course, it had nothing to do with him! It was just coincidentally timed with his moments of weakness, which were in no way cute, and he in no way wanted Toshinori to call him cute.]

Idiot. Who the hell's cute?...

[A quiet response, without really thinking about it.]

[almightiness]

[Oh...! The skinny man's half-drooping stare turns toward the flustered hero. You know, what better time to give Aizawa a mild heart attack than when holding his hand, looking at him in the middle of sleeping in the same bed. But unlike the couch, his eyes don't snap open in surprise, and he doesn't cough some apology; he's still kind of asleep, not remotely lucid to the situation.

And then he blinks tiredly, smiles a bit, and turns onto his back with a sigh.]

... Aizawa's...

[Who the hell's cute? There's a pause.]

... cat socks...

[He nestles his chin into the blanket and sleeps. This time, for the rest of the night. No future heart attacks for Eraserhead, it seems. You're welcome, buddy.]

[dryeyes]

[That was too close to cardiac arrest for Aizawa's taste. He flays flat against the bed for a while, trying to willfully slow down his heart rate.]

[Honestly, things murmured in one's sleep should have no bearing on the real world. So, even if his name came off Toshinori's lips, there, it was nothing to get over-eager about. He tries to not even mention it as he taps out a few more replies to Hizashi. One reply tries to disrupt that calm, again, leading to a rare Aizawa coughing fit that he tries to muffle as best he can. Of course that's the kind of advice Hizashi would give him.]

[... although the fact Toshinori didn't stir too much at that is a bit emboldening. He shifts a bit, sitting up and leaning over the other man in bed. If he wouldn't get to be this close again...]

[Hesitantly, with all the care of defusing a bomb, he presses a kiss to the other's forehead. It was much easier to stare directly at him when he was asleep. He's not going to change his plan, even if lacks guts, but he will quietly say,]

I love you, Toshinori. [There. He said it. Maybe, like cat socks, it would end up echoing in his subconscious, like a dream with no point of origin. He lays back down, holding his phone in one hand and Toshinori's hand in the other. There was still a lot of time to kill in the night. Maybe he could close his eyes for a bit. All those mini-heart attacks did make his eyes feel a little heavier. He'd still wake up before the other, there was no harm in it.]

[The morning will come and Aizawa will not have woken up first and will still conspicuously have the other's hand in his grasp.]

[almightiness]

[Did it end up echoing in his subconscious? A age-old question...

He wakes up feeling well-rested, probably far more well-rested than poor Aizawa -- and when he wakes to find his hand curled around Aizawa's, he flusters and chides himself pretty quickly. Goodness, he's terrible when he's asleep...! He'd better get their hands apart before the other wakes up and sees just how ridiculous Toshinori can be -- he swears, he's like a sea anemone or something. Or a -- an octopus.

He rubs the back of his head, his cheeks slightly colored for his minor intrusion.

Aa, but look at that. Tables are turned! And here he is, usually the one sleeping on the other. It tugs at his heart a bit, and before he can even really think of the dangers, he cards his hand over Aizawa's hair like he'd done to him, when he'd fallen asleep on him. You know. Just revenge.

... Yes.

Ehem.

You should probably rise and shine, Aizawa-kun.

The students aren't going to teach themselves...!

No, that's their job; he's got a newfound focus, something to devote his time now that the heroic portion's been all eaten up. And since he may be on a time limit by Nighteye's predictions, he doesn't want to let any of them down -- or Aizawa.

... Last morning getting ready together, huh?

A little different than usual, but...

He looks pretty cute before the 'waking up' part drags any scowls or unimpressed stares. Some days you'd think Aizawa personally had a grudge against the sun itself, like a dracula. He's really hoping, hand holding aside, he didn't do anything silly to warrant future blackmail.

Poor guy hasn't budged, yet, though.

Maybe he'll just let him sleep -- yes, he'll let him sleep!! Do a bit of straightening up around the place since he failed to yesterday. Aaah, he was letting himself get way too messy. Not a good look, for a teacher.

Upon collecting Aizawa's clothes and things to put where he can find them easier, on the armrest of the couch, an envelope peeks its little corner out from the pocket. Ah? Well, revenge again, for snooping through his fanmail...! And he knows how to play a villain now, thanks to the UA.

... it has his name on it...?

Is this...?

He smiles a bit.

Oh, the fan letter...!

He'd nearly forgotten.

... heh.



He opens it up.]

[dryeyes]

[Aizawa, despite his best efforts, is asleep. When he sleeps, he sleeps like the dead, barely moving or shifting. His dreams tend to be either abstract messes or frighteningly realistic bad situations. He's lucky enough not to dream, even with the gentle touch through his mess of hair.]

[His expression is gentle, although it's easy to imagine how quickly it would sour upon his things being shuffled around. Yes, it was a fair revenge for everything he's done. Objectively, he could understand that. Still, even in his most dramatic nightmares about this situation, he hadn't figured it would be discovered early while he was still comfortably in the other's home.]

[It's a longer letter than Toshinori had written him. The handwriting is neat, deliberate, with no signs of all the edits that had gone into it. After all, it was supposed to be perfect, regardless of how imperfect the delivery would now be.]

[The contents are as follows...]

[almightiness]

[He does cough, rather violently at that, and has to shakily wipe up blood with his handkerchief, Aizawa. Very observational of you. Very psychic of you. Because the smile on Toshinori's face dies away fairly quickly when he reaches it -- the I love you. And his fingers crumple the paper just slightly, his lung burning from the iron tang, joints aching, mind whirling. It's a shock. It's a shock because of a lot of things.

He hadn't...

He didn't...

He sits.

He sits down on the couch, barefoot and in his sleepwear, shadows painting his face starkly as he stares at the letter. He looks pale as a ghost, honestly -- horrified, actually. Toshi's turned to lead, to a statue, fixated on the I love you like its a photo from a police line-up. The evidence all pointed to it. Of course it did. But he had not seen it coming a mile away, despite himself. Because he'd been so wrapped up in...

Oh, jesus, Aizawa.]

... Oh, shit.

[dryeyes]

[The first sign that he's made a mistake is when he opens his eyes and realizes he's alone in bed. He shouldn't have been asleep in the first place. He pushes himself up, fetches his phone from where it had slipped, and checks the time. There was nothing too out of the ordinary about that. Maybe Toshinori had moved in his sleep and dislodged their hands. Maybe it had been overlooked as some silly gesture. As he tabs back past the late-night messages with Hizashi, he tells himself to stay calm. Getting trapped in worries and self-loathing could be done later, once he'd handed over the letter.]

[Or so he'd thought.]

[He's still a bit groggy, dragging his fingers loosely through his hair as some substitute for brushing it as he exits the room. His first thought, upon seeing the other, is a bit more distant. Is it some notice from the hospital? He looked like death. That wouldn't have been delivered so early, though. Then it clicks, seeing his accumulated belongings, the paper gripped in his hand, that-]

[That was the face of seeing his confession.]

[He knew in a distant, logical way that he didn't want to see that expression, whatever it was going to be. There was nothing distant about the sharp pain that pierced his chest. Any reason he'd used to justify his choice faded in the simple fact that he didn't want to see it. The fact he's not naturally very expressive lends itself to him now, at least. He just looks a bit like he's been stabbed, with comparable amounts of shock and pain.]

Ah, well. ["It's ruined, now." There was no way he could just escape this situation without notice. He did have at least a fleeting thought of escaping through a window or something. He knew he had to say something. If he took the weight of breaking the silence and setting the tone himself, that at least spared Toshinori something. Still, he can't hide the fact it is a weight on him to speak, that he'd rather not, that this was painful, stupid, and everything he'd wanted to avoid.]

I suppose this is my fault for sleeping. [Every time he let his diligence lapse in favor of some stupid, affectionate gesture, he was punished for it. He should have learned.]

[almightiness]

[Stupid, stupid, stupid. He looks up at Aizawa with unmeasured surprise, looking just as anxious as the first time the man had laid eyes on him, if not... God, he's an idiot. Toshinori, you're a huge idiot, a pathetic idiot, what the hell -- He nearly laughs at that commentary, but then he'd sound manic and kind of crazy over something so...

He's gotten love letters before. All Might got a lot of love letters. Not Toshinori, though. He tries not to crumple it anymore, like it'd be another jab at Aizawa; is he going to keep this one? Of course he is. He'd never be able to discard anything from Aizawa. Not even if it makes his chest ache like this.]

... I don't... understand.

[He drops his head into his hand, trying to think. Of what to say.

He smiles, but it's strained, like a defense.]

This isn't -- You're not teasing me about fanmail, are you? Because... Of all the people you could have had -- the old ghoul who coughs up blood? [He chuckles weakly. He had expected to live whatever was left teaching kids and then -- you know, dying single or whatever. It wasn't even a thought, that he could do that to begin with. After all, is he not just looking out for the person who would damn themselves to a short and painful relationship? He's always sick! He's limited! He scares kids on the sidewalk!]

Why would you do that to yourself, Aizawa-kun?

[He doesn't mean to, but its spoken as if Aizawa is off his rocker. As if he could just choose, even though he knows it's not how it works at all. But... Look at him. What are you doing?

Toshinori just can't fathom it.]

[dryeyes]

[He wouldn't blame the other for laughing. It's a ridiculous situation. He's known that from the very beginning. He's only seeing more evidence pile up in front of him that he was right. This was the sort of thing to be given, then immediately vanish. That gave the other person space. Instead, here he was, having to deal with all the first reactions to something he'd already had so much time to deliberate over.]

[How much time had he spent being envious of those love letters from fans? How many times in the hospital room had he realized it was serious? How many times had he re-written that letter now, burning the old ones or depositing them in the trash outside his very-intact-not-under-construction place?]

[The two of them were now both metaphorically knocked off their feet. One of them would have to correct themselves in the air and land first. It should be him, right? He's the person with more knowledge in this situation, more time to prepare, it should be him.]

[He doesn't feel like that one bit, though.]

Ah, sorry. [You know, good on Toshinori for not indulging in the manic laughter. Let Aizawa do it instead, just a short, quick laugh. He's got the better face for it, anyways. It's not really clear if he's anywhere near sincere about that "sorry." Maybe sorry about this whole situation.]

Were you under some impression that my eyes were that damaged? [He pushes his bangs up and out of the way with his hand. Unplanned words spill out, like lashing out at- something. Anything. Since he can't lash out at himself.] I know exactly what you look like, Yagi-san. And I know all the reasons I'm unsuited to you. So, if you could not act like I'm just doing this naively... [he stops, grip tightening for a moment, feeling simultaneously exhausted and wired. It's like he still hasn't landed and the entire conversation was just going to be the sensation of falling, all the way down. He hangs his head and lets the hair fall back into place, like a protective curtain.]

... if you're not going to take it seriously, then just burn it. [Short, curt, to the point.]

[almightiness]

[... All Might frowns. Toshinori frowns. Whoever.

He doesn't want to -- disappoint him. There's a lot going on in his head right now, so much he feels set to burst. He wanted it to be a joke, some sort of humorous... logical ruse. A way to mock him for his devotion towards fans and their words. But he knew from the moment he got halfway down the page, it was real. He knew better than that, read enough to differentiate, too. He glances up at Aizawa, who is tucking his chin and probably wanting to melt into the floorboards.

He wasn't going to say it to his face... That much is clear.

He folds the letter very carefully, holding it like its glass, intentions clear; he's not going to burn it. Of course he's not. Whatever happens with this, he values Aizawa's honest feelings too much to ever downplay them. To think less of them. Sometime this year... he may not even be here to read this. How unfair is that, that he let this go on, knowing he was potentially standing at a great ravine he couldn't walk away from?

He steps forward, and reaches out, taking the clenched fist in one hand before placing his other hand atop it. It's still... insane, to think he... But he's not going to wave it all away as childish or naive. Because then, what would he be?]

I'm sorry. For saying it so dismissively. Your kindness has been -- invaluable in ways I can't explain. You've even saved my life. [He laughs softer.] But I can't... I need to think. I have to think.

[... He smiles, forlorn, at the ground. Toshinori had been selfish to push his luck, and now Aizawa's paying the price. And yet despite how he wants to bottle it up, hide it from the other to help soothe the sting, it tumbles out of his mouth before he can even think.

Because maybe Aizawa wasn't the only one to take advantage of the situation, to feel this one-sided... something.

Of course, it didn't go to plan. He can't even look him in the eye, he's so ashamed.]

You weren't supposed to love me back.

[1/2]

[dryeyes]

[He'd just wanted control over how he ruined this. Since it was something so precious to him, he at least wanted that. If he had control over it, he could at least pretend that he was fine. He could be rational about it. Instead, he was here. He was this. He was a mess. And he probably would have been a mess either way, but just not so broadcasted. It truly makes him feel like the immature party here.]

[Staring down at the floor, he sees that familiar pair of knobby, bony feet. He feels his hand taken and while his senses are telling him everything he needs, it all feels distant. Sound hits his ears, an apology, kind words, and things slowly start to make sense. Toshinori would need time to think, that makes sense. In his mind, it's just a postponement of an inevitable rejection but that makes sense. It adheres to his mental picture of how the world should be. It still hurts but it was a hurt he was expecting.]

[His shoulders relax, a little.]

[He parts his lips, as if to say, "That's fine." "I can wait." "Give it proper thought"-]

[2/2]

[dryeyes]

[-And then it's right back to the unexpected.]

What? [He understood that sentence completely until the "back" part. Without the "back" part, he could accept it entirely. Yet, somehow, defying all reasoning, a single word could change the meaning of a sentence so entirely as to send every process in his brain screeching to a halt.]

[The sheer surprise value of implied reciprocation is enough to make him look up, look for any sign of- He's not sure. A concussion? Some abnormal thing in the background to imply this was a dream? There's nothing of the sort.]

[almightiness]

[He did not actually think of how to follow-up with that.

But he's betting neither of them have any clue how to navigate that situation. Hilarious, he thinks, but not really hilarious at all. He'd brought Aizawa into his home without complaint, he'd let him rustle through his things, he'd sat nightly to watch the news and was more than happy to prepare a big dinner, to gush about him to Miyuki... Haaaa, he supposes he'd been lying to himself often enough, explaining it away. I'm just being a good hotel manager. I'm just letting Aizawa get comfortable. I'm just watching the news, and he happens to be nearby. I'm just this, just that, just everything.

But of course it's more than that.

He's surprised he played it so well.

He lets the hand go, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away with a grimace and a blush.]

... We should. Get ready for school.

... Your drinks you like are in the fridge, if you need a quick breakfast.

[He's quick to walk away, to leave Aizawa in surprise as he closes the bedroom door behind him, the other hero to his things on the couch. Time, yes. He needs time to think. Thinking helps. Or doesn't. Does it? Fuck. Shit. Dammit.]