Flat-White
Fingers were in his hair, gently stroking his locks as Hizashi awoke, but he wasn't on the doorstep anymore – he was in his bed, pressed against his man and his cat. A gentle hand cupped his chin and tilted his face up to look at Shouta Aizawa. The man was tired and concerned, but so obviously relieved. He said something quietly, with two lip movements the blond could easily discern, especially since the first sound was a hard 'Z': Zashi.
Arms wrapped tightly around him and held him close, and he could feel the purring vibration that was undoubtedly Boots, squished but content between them. The hero's face pressed against the villain's: forehead to forehead, nose to nose, gauze pad to scar. Everything touched except their lips and that somehow made the action all the sweeter.
Hizashi cupped Shouta's face too and held him in place. They stayed like that for a while, gently inhaling the other's scent and basking in the contact, before Aizawa ultimately pulled away. He reached for the bedside table, retrieved his recovered hearing-aids and offered them to Hizashi.
Hizashi sorted out the right while Aizawa helped with the left and, although he didn't need the assistance, he knew it was just the other man trying to be affectionate. The villain tuned them, went to say something, and was stopped by a gentle kiss on the lips.
It was soft and sweet, and their foreheads were connected once again. "Sign," said the hero, his voice huskier than usual. It was the nicest sound he'd ever heard. "Your throat was damaged."
Hizashi nodded against him and pulled away so he could sign, 'It'll be okay. My vocal cords heal fast. It's happened before.'
Aizawa's expression was a warring mixture of being impressed, yet entirely unimpressed simultaneously. "You've screamed off a Quirk muzzle before?"
Hizashi snorted, although it hurt. 'No, but I was the biggest cry baby when I was a kid. I ripped my cords a lot. They're not like an ordinary person's. Give it a day or two and I'll be fine.'
"Fine." He put a hand on his leg and reassuringly squeezed it. "I love you, and that's why I'm going to yell at you now."
He exhaled heavily and defeatedly signed, 'I'm ready.'
Aizawa stood up with Boots in his arms and carefully carried her out the room so she wouldn't get frightened by the overdue scolding. Oh man, maybe he should've still screamed, just to avoid this…
The hero closed the door and leaned against it as he composed himself. "Zashi… What the hell were you thinking?" His Erasure Quirk flared without warning, his eyes glowing like demonic portals while his hair floated around him ethereally. Damn he was hot when he got this pissed… "You could've died! No, no, worse than that, you intended to die!" If Aizawa had worn his capture gear, he would've undoubtedly tied him just to punctuate the accusation.
Hizashi pursed his lips and quickly signed, 'In my defence, you were the one throwing around words like 'repent', Hero.'
"That wasn't what I meant by that, and you know it!" he growled. "How could you possibly think I meant it that way?"
'You told me off for running! For becoming Present Mic!'
"I know I don't always act like it, Zashi, but I'm a pro-hero. Arresting Giran is one thing. Killing him, hundreds of other people, and yourself is not a way to repent! You could've turned yourself in, could've helped bring Giran down from the side of good! I know it's not perfect, but killing isn't an alternative, especially if you die too!"
He looked down and sluggishly signed, 'Our third option.'
Shouta was silent as he processed the signs. "What does that have to do with anything?"
'First option: I kill you, and I become a true villain. Second option: you defeat me, and I'm sent to prison forever.' He inhaled deeply and forced himself to sign, 'Third option: I die and you live on.'
Aizawa stared at him incredulously, before he squeezed his eyes shut and thumped his head back against the door. His hair fell in his face. "…Hizashi Yamada… How are you so smart, yet still so incredibly stupid?" He brought his hands up to rub his face, heaving out heavy sigh after heavy sigh as he tried to figure out how to word whatever he wanted to say.
Before he could, Hizashi whispered through his burning throat, "That's our real third option." Wow, his voice did sound bad. Aizawa uncovered his face and looked at him with those tired eyes, so the blond could sign to him. 'I'm still going to fight you. Giran would've told them my identity. They'll be looking for me, and they're gonna find me if I don't do anything. You're not at your best yet, but we're running out of time.'
There it was again, that defeated expression. "There must be other options."
'Option four: I run away for real. We don't fight, but we never see each other again.' Aizawa didn't look pleased by that, but Hizashi continued. 'Option five: I go into hiding. We don't fight. We might secretly meet up once a year for a night of fun, until one of us stops trusting the other and never shows up and that'll be the end. Option six: we pull a good, old fashioned Shakespeare! I'll be Romeo and you'll be Juliet! Maybe we'll have more luck.'
"Why am I Juliet in your Shakespeare fantasy?"
'Because if either of us would be willing to sleep in a bug-infested crypt for several days, it would be you.'
"…You really thought that one through." Aizawa sat beside him on the bed, having deflated a little. "Option seven: you turn yourself in, and I visit you every day in prison."
Hizashi smiled a little. 'With your busy schedule? You'd die from exhaustion in a week.'
"Point taken." Aizawa returned the look with his own sad smile. "Option eight: we live in the woods and survive on bugs."
The blond made a face, 'Oh my god, I'd rather prison! Option nine: we become travelling theatre actors, take on fake names and learn to speak with Australian accents.'
Shouta sniggered. "Ten: we open a restaurant in Ohio."
'Option eleven: we swap lives. You be the Voice Villain Present Mic and I'll be the pro-hero Eraserhead. No one will ever know the difference! Think I'd suit black hair?'
Aizawa exhaled heavily and shook his head, his smile falling. "I'm mad at you," he grumbled as he squeezed his leg.
Hizashi slowly signed, 'You should be.'
"I'm not arresting you formally, but I'm putting you under house arrest until your vocal cords have healed. I'll take tomorrow off, but they'll need me at work on Saturday, not to mention I'll need to go on patrol. Can heroes track you here?"
'Not easily, but Giran found me. If he tells them, I'm screwed, but I'm guessing we'll have a few days before it's an issue. How did you track me?'
"I had your biggest fan bug your laptop. She based it off the one from my old phone. She tried to explain how it wasn't exactly like yours, but she lost me after the third time she spoke in binary code." He ran his hand through Hizashi's blond hair. Aizawa still looked so tired. "Three days." Hizashi tilted his head and Eraserhead gently kissed his right cheek. "We'll fight in three days and whatever happens will happen."
Hizashi felt cold at the unexpected deadline, but nodded nevertheless. 'Three days. I'll prepare, so you better be prepared too. Until then, expect three days of cooked meals, plenty of sleep and mind-blowing sex!'
Aizawa suddenly put an arm around him, trapping him in a playful headlock. "We're not having sex until your voice is healed. You better not slack on preparing either. The moment our fight begins, you're a villain, and I'm the pro-hero hellbent on stopping you for the good of the world."
He smiled, but then realisation struck. Giran was in prison, but Eraserhead still hadn't arrested him… No, he was talking about fighting in three days, which meant…
He pushed against him lightly and Aizawa released him from the headlock so he could sign. 'You're not arresting me?'
Aizawa exhaled and gripped his shoulders, ensuring they were facing each other. "Hizashi… I want to talk about the fire, and your parents. Is that okay…?" His chest twisted, but he nodded – Shouta deserved that much. "Did they have flashing fire alarms?"
Hizashi looked down as he signed. 'Yes and no. We couldn't afford them, but I made them some out of scrapped electronics. I thought they worked, but they must've malfunctioned…' His fault.
"Zashi, there's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while now, and you deserve to know. My … mother died in a fire too."
Hizashi stared, but his hands seemed to move on their own. 'When?'
"I was fifteen," he admitted, his voice gentle. "My parents were divorced, so I lived with my mother in a rundown apartment building. I had just got into UA high school - General Studies. I came home and fell asleep with the heater on, but while I was napping it caught fire. I didn't wake until the room was burning. My mother rushed in…" He closed his eyes, as if he were imagining back to that day. "Part of the ceiling collapsed, but she pushed me out the way, only to get caught under it herself… I panicked. My Quirk couldn't help her and it was too heavy for me to move, so I ran to the stairwell, where people were escaping, but the only ones who paid me any attention were the married couple from the floor above."
Hizashi's stomach dropped.
"They ran into my burning apartment with me and tried to get her out, despite how impossible it was. Even though they'd never even met her, they didn't stop trying to save her." He opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. "My mother begged me to escape while I could and they forced me to go. I ran, and they stayed, and they…" His pupils focused on Hizashi Yamada. "As you said, there were … three casualties…"
Before the blond could respond, warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him against the man's chest. He could feel Shouta's heart beneath shirt and skin, beating steadily, even when his own was a hammer.
"Hizashi… They died trying to help my mother, even though she was beyond saving. They died heroes."
It wasn't a welcomed revelation: it was a knife to the gut.
His parents hadn't died because of his Quirk, or because of his tech, but they hadn't died heroes either, like Aizawa claimed. They'd died trying to be heroes. They'd chosen to die beside a woman they didn't even know rather than be selfish for their son's sake. They'd left him with nothing, with no one, and they'd done it willingly.
If he'd known, would it have changed anything? Yes.
Would he still be a villain? Definitely.
That anger he'd turned on the world, he would've turned directly onto heroes. If he'd known sooner, the system would've already been in flames.
Aizawa was to blame. If he'd-… No. He couldn't even pretend to blame Shouta.
Did knowing this now make any difference? No. So, why had Aizawa thought it so crucial for him to know?
The man kissed around his ear, before he whispered, "I wished I'd met the boy on the floor above mine. I'd forgotten the sound of his voice, and I don't know how. He was always loud, and stayed up late, but I got so used to the sound of him it … became calming. I used to think he had a lot of friends, since sometimes I could hear many voices up there, but now … I don't think he ever had anyone else. He talked to himself about studying, about books, about everything, pretending he had company - the kid couldn't even listen to a radio show without responding to every comment the host made. Most nights, I fell asleep to that voice. The floor was so thin. Just one press on an elevator, one knock on a door, and I could have bridged our gap… I wish I'd met you sooner, Hizashi Yamada, so I could've been a stronger bridge."
Hizashi trembled against him and buried his face in the crook of his neck.
When he was fifteen, he'd once seen a boy in a UA uniform with black hair, like Shouta's. He'd found him asleep in the elevator, and Hizashi'd almost dared to wake him, but had stopped himself. His Voice Quirk was dangerous, after all. He'd ruined his own hearing, along with his parents'. If the kid was in UA it meant he had a bright, sunny future ahead, and Hizashi hadn't wanted to ruin it.
Yamada had left the boy to sleep and had never seen him again…
Fourteen years later, and he'd planned to visit a café titled the 'Extroverted Hermit'. However, he'd glanced through the window and seen the handsome barista, and had decided to put it off. He hadn't recognised the worker, but something about him had made Hizashi want to meet him, so of course he'd avoided the place for as long as possible. One year after that, he'd planned his big Present Mic debut. He'd decided to go inside at long last in pre-celebration, and the barista Aizawa had been worth the wait.
He'd planned to die with Giran. He had wanted to die – a violent end for a violent Quirk. However, their fight was still inevitable, just as it'd been from the moment they'd met. They could have no happy ending after all Hizashi had done.
Eraserhead and Present Mic could not exist simultaneously in this world: one had to go.
"I'm not going to arrest you yet, Zashi. This happened because I wasn't strong enough to save the person I loved, but I'm not a one-trick-pony anymore: I'm a pro-hero. If I locked you away now, you'd still be a villain. I'm going to save you, even if that means we have to fight."
In three days, everything would finally end, one way or another.
"Sho," he whispered through his hoarse throat and pulled away so he could sign. 'For the next three days, let's have your option three.'
Aizawa deflated and gently kissed him on the forehead. "Come on, I bought you a coffee, although it'll be cold."
Hizashi smiled and quickly signed, 'I'll make us that ramen I've been planning to make for forever. You liked bamboo and celery, right?'
He was surprised when Aizawa flicked him on the forehead. "It's sad…"
'What is?'
"That you think I'm the coolest man alive." Oh, so he'd heard his show…
'Well you are.' Hizashi smiled tenderly and ran his hands through Aizawa's hair, before he finally pulled away. 'I'm starving and suffering from caffeine withdrawal.'
They finally got up and exited the bedroom, only to find Boots waiting for him. Hizashi picked her up and cradled his cat, while Aizawa had the foresight to fiddle with the speaker on the bench. After a bit of finicky pressing, he managed to set it to play. Hizashi puts Boots on the couch and set to work making them their ramen dinner while Aizawa heated up his coffee.
The speaker softly sang in the background, a happy old-timey song in English, although he knew the sound was deceiving. The song was sad: he knew the lyrics well.
The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken, and I hung my head and I cried.
He sipped the flat-white, but he could tell Aizawa hadn't made it. Even so, after going several days without his fix, he downed it happily as he boiled water and made up the stock. Shouta was given the insanely tedious task of boiling noodles.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.
Hizashi showed him how to thinly slice the pork, and Shouta appeared interested in learning. At least he knew how to hard-boil the eggs, but even if he was a hopeless cook, the blond enjoyed his company and found himself laughing throughout.
I'll always love you and make you happy, if you will only say the same. But if you leave me, to love another, you'll regret it all someday.
Soon enough, everything was ready. Aizawa fed a can of cat food to Boots, who'd been affectionately rubbing against their legs throughout their cooking session, and Hizashi set their homemade ramen on the table. As soon as it was down, Aizawa took his hand and tugged him into a tender kiss.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, please don't take my sunshine away.
Shouta pulled away. "It smells good."
Hizashi grinned and signed quickly, 'Must be the cyanide.'
The hero rolled his eyes, but was smiling very tenderly, and when they sat down to eat, Hizashi pressed their legs together. It was like a scene from a happy ending, but things for them were far from over.
You told me once, dear, you really loved me, and no one else could come between, but now you've left me and love another, you have shattered all my dreams.
Aizawa tried it and for just a moment, he looked like that boy in the elevator, with a bright, sunny future just in view. "It's better than the vending machine."
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey, you'll never know dear, how much I love you…
Hizashi smiled tenderly, but there was a budding hollowness in his heart. 'I'm glad.'
Their fight was inevitable.
Please don't take my sunshine away.
That night fifteen years ago, the world had burned, but from the ashes had emerged a hero and a villain. In three days, everything would end as it began: in fire and tears and regret.