Hitoshi swung open the door to his apartment with a pop. "I'm home." Monoma, who had managed to prop himself partially on the door when Hitoshi told him to keep himself standing, tumbled in and wove like a drunken sailor to keep himself upright. Not Hitoshi's best metaphor, considering the man was actually drunk as a skunk, but he wasn't a sailor, so Hitoshi would take what he could get. He grabbed Monoma by the elbow to keep him from tripping over the entry step.

"Sit down and take off your shoes," he told him, doing the same himself. He watched as Monoma drunkenly, mindlessly fumbled with his laces and sighed. The thing about Brainwash was that his target could only do what they had the physical capacity to do, and the high alcohol levels in his blood meant his friend could barely stand, let alone untie his shoes. Hitoshi elected to release his hold on Monoma, considering they'd made it back to his apartment intact. Monoma blinked, confused, as Hitoshi untied his shoes for him.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment," Hitoshi grunted, loosening Monoma's laces and tugging his shoe off with effort. "Sorry for the Brainwash but it was easier to get you here without you accidentally falling into traffic." Hitoshi had been unanimously elected as Monoma's keeper when the group had trickled out of the bar, due mainly to his quirk and the fact that no one else was willing to deal with the drunk blonde.

Monoma's eyes widened as he gaped around at the room. "Woah. So this is where you live?"

Hitoshi snorted. "Sure is." He's barely gotten the second shoe off Monoma's foot before the other was up and moving, scrambling to a somewhat vertical stance to better gape at the apartment.

"Wow. It's so... you."

Hitoshi wasn't sure if that was a compliment. He thought his studio apartment, with its greyscale color scheme and bold watercolor depictions of cats on the walls, was practical. It helped that Aizawa-sensei had helped him move in three years ago. The man was responsible for the large cat-shaped pillow by the room's single table, though Yamada-sensei was the one who had gifted him the cat-eared headset that lay on the desk nearby. His bike, his most prized possession, leaned against the wall near the entryway. The kitchenette, rarely used but to reheat frozen meals and feed Muffin, was separated from the rest of the apartment by a small island. Muffin herself sat there and watched Monoma suspiciously, voluptuous tail flicking in annoyance.

"I only have the one futon, so we'll have to share." Hitoshi greeted Muffin with a scratch behind the ears before he set about feeding her dinner, sparing one eye for his drunk houseguest. Monoma seemed to be content snooping through Hitoshi's few possessions. He spent a significant amount of time smiling at Hitoshi's cat plushies tangled in his nest of blankets on the futon-turned-couch propped against the wall. Mollified, Hitoshi turned his attention to opening the can of cat food. He felt betrayed when, the moment he turned around, a suspicious popping and rustling noise came from the main area.

Upon turning, Hitoshi found that Monoma had deemed his own shirt offensive and was popping the buttons, revealing far too much skin. No, Hitoshi amended, far too much marked skin. Curling down the side of Monoma's neck to pool along the hollow of his collar bone was a soulmark, its light brown stark against Monoma's pale skin. It curled and dipped delicately, reminding Hitoshi of a waterfall swooping down an incline to crash and froth in a pond below. Suddenly, the five feet and counter between them was far too close a distance. The mark was, after all, painfully familiar. Hitoshi saw it whenever he went for a haircut, reflected in the glass.

Monoma seemed to finally notice Hitoshi's stare, because he struck a pose. Hitoshi supposed it was supposed to be seductive, but really the blonde just looked like he was about to fall over. Which was probably true, given by the way he stumbled a moment into the pose. "Like what you see?" He waggled his fingers at the taller man.

Hitoshi sighed, having been thoroughly ejected from his daze. "We should get you to bed."

"So you do like what you see!" Monoma laughed, looking devilishly delighted. It was partially ruined when his foot caught on the floor and his leg gave out from under him, dumping him on the futon. He took it in stride, though, prostrating himself over the cushion "seductively."

Hitoshi, for his part, just finished dishing up Muffin's food. He gave her a pat before making his way over to his dresser, producing two pairs of sweats and t-shirts. He tossed one of each in Monoma's direction. "Get changed for bed. I'll change in the bathroom." He didn't wait for a reply before slipping into his tiny single bathroom.

Hitoshi took a long breath, clenching his eyes shut. This was… unexpected, to say the least. Not the least expected thing to ever happen to him, but it was damn close. Hitoshi would be lying if he said he didn't find Monoma attractive, but… Hitoshi took another deep breath. It was fine. He'd figure things out tomorrow, when he wasn't still mildly buzzed and Monoma wasn't three sheets to the wind. All he had to do was sleep next to the man who, apparently, he'd been waiting his whole life for. Well, he'd been waiting his whole life, he could wait another day. Or, more like, a lot longer, considering Monoma had a hot girlfriend in the picture. Hitoshi clenched his eyes shut tighter and shook his head, mentally bundling up all his newly-budding thoughts and shoving them into a box at the base of his psyche. It could all wait for later.

By the time he exited the bathroom clad in pajamas, Monoma was dozing comfortably. He had a Pusheen plushie in the crook of his arm, and the stretched collar of the old t-shirt Hitoshi had lent him gave a good view of the majority of his soulmark. He peeked up through lowered lashes and messy bangs when Hitoshi approached. "Y're back." Hitoshi nodded and prodded Monoma to get up so that he could pull out the futon. Monoma scooted back on his butt to the floor, hugging the plushie under his chin as he watched his host arrange the bedding. When the futon was properly laid out, covers and pillows properly arranged, Hitoshi turned to his guest.

"I'll sleep against the wall in case you need to make a break for the bathroom in the night. How're you feeling?"

"Sleepy." Monoma buried his head into the cat plush in his arms. An unwilling soft smile spread across Hitoshi's lips.

"Well, if you need anything I'll be right here." Hitoshi slithered into his futon. He was soon followed by a loud thump as Monoma flopped forward into the bedding, wriggled around, then promptly fell asleep on top of the covers.

Hitoshi took the opportunity to watch the young hero, taking him in for what felt like the very first time. Monoma's cheek was smooshed against the pillow, mouth slightly open. His hair lay in a disarray across his forehead and the pillow, feathering out like he was underwater. One wiry arm had tugged the cat plushie to his chest, the other thrown up above the pillow. His legs tangled with one another and the sheets, and his toes curled into the rumpled bedding. All in all, it wasn't the most attractive that Hitoshi had ever seen him, but he seemed almost human this way.

Asleep, all of Monoma's many masks were cast aside. He wasn't trying to appear in control of the situation, or cool and incalculable. He wasn't trying to be an annoying little shit, or coaxing someone into a fight. He wasn't trying to hide his fears or insecurities with bluster. He just was, sleeping as all people do, nothing to hide. Or, maybe one thing to hide.

Monoma's soulmark wasn't visible from this angle, pressed into the futon as it was. All the same, Hitoshi knew what he had seen those few minutes ago.

Hitoshi had always known of soulmates. They were a fact of life, nearly 87% of Japan had them. He himself had been born with a soulmark, a swirling mess of melanin on the back of his neck. But it was easy to forget, when it was somewhere he could only see with a mirror, and no one spoke willingly to him. The objective truth of the mark on his neck conflicted with the disdain and fear from everyone around him. How could anyone love him when no-one would even talk to him?

Things had gotten better when he'd reached UA. For one, his foster home just left him alone rather than trying to control his life and quirk. And once he'd joined class A and entered the dorms, he hadn't had to deal with a foster home at all. But while people tolerated him and even tried to make friends with him, that deep mistrust for people and lack of self-worth still remained. The only time Hitoshi even thought about his soulmark was when he was making excuses not to mess with dating or romance.

There had been nights, of course, where Hitoshi had laid in the dark, clutching his pillow and hoping against hope that someone would care for him one day. That didn't mean he had ever believed it.

Hitoshi was a pragmatist above anything. He'd seen the statistics, he'd heard the stories. He knew that not every soulmate relationship worked out. He knew that sometimes what was supposed to be perfect turned sour, and that sometimes soulmates left uglier marks on their partners. If parents, who were given a biological imperative to love their children, still abandoned them to the cruel system, there was no reason why a birthmark would make people stay together. To Hitoshi, there had never been a question of whether he and his soulmate would work out. No one else had ever cared for him once they learned of his quirk. There was no reason his soulmate would be any different.

All the same, looking at Monoma, Hitoshi wondered if maybe he was wrong. He watched the man's chest rise and fall with his breath, drool starting to edge out from the corner of his mouth. Monoma was undeniably real, beside him, undeniably trusting. He'd trusted Hitoshi to care for him when he was vulnerable. Monoma had freely gone with him, had willingly subjected himself to Hitoshi's quirk. He'd trusted Hitoshi, fully knowing that the violet-haired man could do anything to him and he might not even remember. No one had ever trusted Hitoshi so completely before.

Not only that, but it had been Monoma that had dragged Hitoshi into this friendship in the first place. Monoma had pursued him in high school, and even now, years later, he'd put so much effort into becoming friends with Hitoshi. Hitoshi hadn't done a damn thing, even pushing the other hero away when they'd first reconnected. Monoma had cared enough to put real effort into connecting with Hitoshi… and he didn't even know they were soulmates.

Hitoshi let out a long, unsteady breath. He closed his eyes, rolling onto his back so he wouldn't have to look at the blonde in his bed any longer. This was too much to take in. He'd never thought… never even considered that he might actually get along with his soulmate. Not only that, but he already trusted Monoma. They'd barely been speaking for a few weeks, but already Monoma had trusted him with his well-being, and Hitoshi didn't want to betray that trust.

Hitoshi sighed. He couldn't tell Monoma. He couldn't spit in the face of the trust Monoma had shown him by trying to break up his relationship. He couldn't see the betrayal on Monoma's face when Hitoshi made him choose. Or maybe… Hitoshi just wouldn't be able to bear it if Monoma didn't choose him.

He wouldn't tell him. Hitoshi would just… wait. Bide his time, until a chance came along. Chances were that Monoma and his partner wouldn't last, and if they ever broke up, Hitoshi would be there. For now, he'd just be friends with Monoma. That itself was a strange enough concept. And it would give Hitoshi the time to let this all sink in.

He had a soulmate.

Resolved, Hitoshi turned to face the wall, intent on getting at least some sleep that night.