Chapter 3
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Contact
Summary: It's nice to kick back and relax to relinquish in the snugly heat during an afternoon shower, but you find yourself enjoying the warmth with a special someone.
Notes: A short chapter filled with a bit of fluff.
Sitting with your feet crossed under the round table, your e/c hues settled on the clear translucent vase of [f/f]s and unbeknownst to you, your thumb was tracing the lamina of one of the rich green leaves poking out here and there. But you were much more bedazzled by the canvas of alluring colors dabbing the tiny petals. They were absolutely beautiful—a huge smile smacked across your face.
It had been a day since you last encountered Aizawa, recalling the short yet memorable conversation between the two of you. He was more or less easy to strike a typical conversation with him, despite the fact he drowned his words in irritated groans and mumbles most of the time. The bedraggled black haired male didn't seem to mind his shady and disheveled appearance—it was more like he took a liking to it. Throwing a hand in your hair, you scrambled to your feet and ambled towards your bedroom, your ears perking at a familiar buzz.
Pressing your index finger on your screen, your brows quirked up at something strange. You had received a message, but the number was unregistered in your contacts, thus thrusting you into a minor state of confusion. You paused; you swore that if it was a prank message from the two obnoxious brats living two floors down, then they would have a lot to pay. In the weekends, when you usually spent an ample time at your apartment, they would ring you up and snicker like a pair of clowns in the background to vex you. Although you had a petite talk with their mother, they remained as annoying as ever. It was not like you had anything against them—you perfectly understood their childish gimmicks but it did tend to get out of hand.
Nevertheless, you still felt the need to thwack their heads.
"Good thing I finished my project before they disturbed," you sighed, your finger gliding across the screen.
The message popped open, revealing a simple, small text and a name along with it that somehow made your heart flutter as if there were newly morphed butterfly struggling to break free from their silky cocoon. Biting your lip, you proceeded with reading it:
Hey, [L/N] right? It's Aizawa, the guy you stalked the day before.
If you were drinking water, then you would have already been helplessly choking on it, your cheeks dusted with embarrassment. He just had to mention that.
Is it okay if I drop by? I'm in the neighborhood and it's pouring. No umbrella with me.
Thanks, see ya.
Your brain took a lot of time to process what was happening, especially the way he casually texted you like you were suddenly his best bud-in-the-making. More importantly, how on Earth did he snag your number? That was at the top of your list with other questions cramming closely together from underneath, but you couldn't deny that you felt an ounce of content brimming inside of you like a candle lit fire. It was fairly small but nevertheless, you were undoubtedly happy that the black haired hero was dropping by.
Tossing your phone onto the cream colored sheets, you peered at yourself in the slanting mirror in front of you, contemplating on whether you appeared decent or not. Your ponytail was untidy and unkempt, tresses sticking out from different areas but you queered that Aizawa would look much neater than you were. He reminded you of cat with his slanted smiles and his peculiar behavior—the male was a bucket of unknown surprises, not even comparing to a Jack-In-the-Box that could cause a little startle.
Stealing a glimpse at the round clock perched on your desk, you took note that it was slightly past twelve in the afternoon and you were instantly reminded that you had to engulf yourself in the kitchen sooner or later before the ravenous beast within could consume you. You weren't aware of the heavy downpour outside; the serene pit-pat against your window rendering you au courant with Mother Nature's plans for the cozy afternoon. You, in fact, liked the grim puffs of clouds covering the once bright blue sky and the soothing sound it provided calmed you immensely. It was a also delight to sleep under the duvet with the cool chill!
"Coming!" Chanting while humming a dulcet tune, you hurriedly headed towards the door at the sound of the doorbell. Unlocking it with a snapping click, a mop of wet black hair instantly came into your sight, "Aizawa-san!"
The said male breathed a sigh, waiting for you to usher him inside with expectant eyes and you did so, watching him tear off his muddy boots that accompanied his soggy attire, "...Sorry for intruding."
You led him inside, pointing towards your round coffee table positioned in the fairly large sitting room. You didn't want him to soak your couch and you scrambled off in search for a towel. Returning from your 'quest', you shyly handed it to him with a nervous expression.
"Thanks," he said dully, accepting the towel.
"May I ask why you're soaking wet?" You questioned, observing his movements as he dried his dampened locks without meeting your gaze, "Hey, answer my question."
He opened his mouth, "I was on patrol and this happened as a result of my idling." Aizawa rolled his eyes, replying you with plain answers.
"That doesn't explain much," you repeated his action, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly with a mocking smirk, "If you're going to be rude, then hand me back my towel."
The older male shot you a glare, knitting his brows, "...No."
His blunt refusal astonished you for a moment, pondering on why he was suddenly acting like an impudent child. You flashed a sly smirk towards his direction, your hands snaking round the towel draped round his head and you immediately tweaked it with a victory cry, causing the male to flinch.
"Mind your manners. You're in my house with my towel on my chair, so please be on your best behavior, Aizawa-san," you mused, your fingers twiddling with the fabric, "If you want it then you're going to have to fight for it."
Aizawa bore an impassive look, though his chapped lips curled lightly into a playful smile, "I'm not a kid."
You huffed, "Says the one who's acting like one in the first place."
"Says the stalker."
The both of you burst into a cackle, low but lighthearted as the rain beat down on the pavements outside as warmth from the heater seeped into the room, your cheeks flaring with vibrant peach. Merriment bubbled inside of you and you wondered why you were feeling like this—an emotion foreign to you.
Your thoughts were interrupted when a sneeze caught your attention and you faced Aizawa whose face was completely flushed.
"...Sorry about that. Could you pass me the towel?"
"Are you alright? You look a bit pale," you inquired with a hint of concern, passing him the towel once more.
The black haired male shook his head, the tips of his black strands dripping with water, "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"You're being pesky again," Aizawa grumbled, sneezing adorably once more while covering his face, "You shouldn't worry about a stranger like me."
A soft smile crept on your lips, "Last time I checked, you said we weren't strangers or do you want me to recite what you told me the other day while you gave me those flowers?"
His dark orbs studied your for prolonging seconds as if you were a rare specimen before his very eyes, your own discerning the darkened folds adorning the skin under his tired eyes. He certainly looked like he didn't get enough sleep, the redness in the yolk of white in his droopy eyes depicting exhaustion. Moving closer to him, you placed a hand on his forehead, brushing past his bangs. His skin felt feverish; exceptionally hotter than average human temperature.
"You're sick. No wonder you needed a place to rest," you muttered, albeit loud enough for him to hear.
He grumbled, tearing his eyes off your stature, "...I told you I'm fine."
You chuckled at his weak demeanor, "Your body says otherwise. Now scoot to the couch, I'll go fetch a pillow and blanket in the meantime. How does a warm cup of coffee sound for you? Or do you want a shower?"
You steadied yourself properly, whirling on your heels to leave the ill male to himself but just as you were about to move, a force yanked you backwards and you whipped your head round to see Aizawa's hand tugging at your loose shirt. Compared to the serious and tremendous aura he presented during the robbery, he looked drowsy and feeble, his cheeks coated with scarlet.
"You... don't have to trouble yourself..." he mumbled, his grip tightening as time ticked by, "I'll leave."
Uncurling his fingers from your shirt, you teasingly scolded him, "I don't mind. You helped me so I want to help you in return and you're going to get worse if you leave so I insist."
Nothing was uttered out of Aizawa's lips as he watched you leave, his vision a bit hazy from the cold. He didn't like this—burdening someone else with his problems. He didn't mean to end up at your doorstep, but his head was spinning in wild circles and he felt so sick that he couldn't properly support himself long enough to stand. He barely managed to tap away at his phone to relay a message to you, let alone think through with what he was even doing. The black haired hero was patrolling the streets, although he preferred his nightly patrols in which he could take small strolls while enjoying the frosty ten o'clock breeze slapping his cheeks.
He stumbled to his feet, dragging himself to your couch with staggers in his steps and fell face-flat onto the soft texture hitting his face. He heaved a content sigh, pure relief as he felt something being dropped onto him without effort and one eye popped open, watching you carefully.
"Here you go. Nice and comfy!" You exclaimed with a chirp, surprising Aizawa with your gaiety. Were you always like this at home?
"I told you I'm fine."
"Are you still on about that?" You laughed, unfazed by his ludicrous bluntness as you lifted his head to slip the pillow underneath, "Are you feeling a bit better?"
"A bit."
Tousling his messy hair with the towel, you poked his cheek, "now, I have something that I have to ask you. Who gave you my number?" Chills slithered down his back at the sudden change of your tone, a nervous bead of sweat trickling down his forehead which you wiped away.
If he wasn't so ill then perhaps he would've been poise about his current situation.
"Taka...hashi..." he grumbled with a cough, hindering his speech.
"Taka-who?"
He chewed on the inside of his mouth, debating whether he should spill the beans or not and when he remained silent throughout the five minutes you were patiently waiting, you brought your hand forward with a devious grin.
"Aizawa-san, who gave you my number?" Threatening blue flames kindled on your palm—it was merely an illusion but they still looked horrifyingly menacing to one's eyes. Aizawa blinked sluggishly, prior to shutting his eyes as he dozed off into slumber.
"Aizawa-san!"
"Let me sleep..." he groaned in response, shifting into another comforting position as he faced his back towards you. He heard you wail, most likely fuming like a boiling kettle and the corner of his lips bent upwards.
Somehow, he didn't mind the warmth you radiated as you stayed close to his sleeping form with a grumpy expression adorning your visage.
Hello readers! Hope you all are enjoying the story so far! I'd like to know what you guys think of this chappy tehe~ and question of the day:
Who is your favorite U.A. student?
I love Shouto so he steals first place! What about you guys? :D
