His place smelled like laundry; clean, simple.
"Do you think you'll always live in an apartment?"
"It's logical to, seeing as it's only me."
The walls were muted tones of blue and grey, the floor a river of dark wood. Not a single decoration or photograph was in sight. The furniture was just as bare, save a singular burgundy throw on the couch and a basket of similar blankets nearby. This made sense- he definitely seemed the napping type.
What would that be like, cuddling up with him on a rainy night like this?
"Chiyo?"
"What?" I stood, soaked and filthy on his doormat, warm embarrassment slowly filling my pores as the reality of my situation started to kick in. What am I doing here?
The park I thought safest from Aizawa was one nearly bordering his apartment complex. With one short walk we were at his place of residence, snuggled in the seemingly rural area that had been forgotten by the rest of the city.
"Stay here," His voice was normal, calm. I watched, hair dripping and skin cool, as he walked down a dark hallway, a light soon appearing in a far away room. I slid my shoes off and carefully placed them next to his. The cold soles of my feet left condensation marks as I took a careful step into Shota Aizawa's apartment, calling the water with me to save his pristine floorboards.
There were probably rules about being in a coworker's home; dating, surely, forbidden. I trailed a finger across the closest wall.
How close is too close?
Shota stalked back down the hallway he'd disappeared down, clothed in a navy quarter-sleeve and dark sweats, hair still casually pulled away from his face. He found me, mouth still but eyes just the slightest crinkled, and I realized with fear I'd already stumbled in too deep.
The lion was already in the room.
"You can take a shower if you want; I put some spare clothes in the bathroom," He glanced out the sliding glass door. Rain still fell in dark droves. "It doesn't look like it's going to let up soon. We can wait it out while your clothes dry."
I could've told him I didn't need to wait, that I could easily dry the clothes out with my quirk.
Instead I nodded with a finicky smile and traveled deeper down the rabbit hole.
The bathroom matched the aesthetic of the other rooms and proved just as clean. There were no dollops of toothpaste stuck to the sink, no stray hairs on the toilet or even a fingerprint on the mirror. I peeled off the shirt clinging to my body and placed it across the towel bar, soaked shorts soon following suit. A shift in sound caused me to startle and Aizawa suddenly appeared, reaching past me to fiddle with the shower.
"Sorry, I should've told you; the mechanics are kind of weird. If you turn this handle about forty degrees and the other about ninety, you should be good-" His words drizzled out like the starting shower, eyes catching mine before realizing his mistake.
We stood, one fully clothed man and a woman in nothing but her bare skivvies, frozen in a time vortex.
I crossed my arms over my chest, biting my lip. Aizawa looked as if someone had just announced he had detention duty for the next century.
"Probably should've knocked."
"Might've been a good idea, yeah."
I prodded him out and quickly shut the door, throwing my whole weight against it for good measure. The frame was cool against my back as I slid down, hardly able to breathe. A garbled noise came from the other side. Had that been a blush I saw creeping into his face?
I hurried out of my undergarments and into the shower, feeling the immediate relief of steaming water against my skin, infusing a familiar sense of calm only water had ever been able to bring to me. Every touch felt intimate and I bathed in a rush, choosing a quick wash-through of my hair due to the accrued grime from my fall.
I was naked, in Shota Aizawa's shower, basking in all his scents, heart in throat and chest full of helium, blood trembling in my veins.
The clothes laid out were simple; a dark pullover and running shorts that would act as a floor-length skirt if I wore them.
"I'm not into the damsel in distress act, sorry."
Fuck it.
If I could frame any memory, place it on my pretend mantlepiece, it would be of Shota Aizawa's expression as I returned from the shower, damp hair over one shoulder and legs bare save the just-long-enough sweater he'd lent me for the moment. I'd at least had the decency to dry out my underwear and slip them back on, but this length could have given even Kayama a run for her scandal-crown.
His eyes traveled over my body like a newfound map, particularly slow where material met skin. I wondered where his desired destination was before promising to pinch myself later for such a cheesy thought.
"So, now what?"
His dark eyes gazed at my legs a moment more before his chest lifted with a deep breath, eyes closing like before. He cleared his throat; "Are you hungry?"
"I could eat,"
He gave me a dry stare, rising and leading me into a small kitchen.
"What?"
"That's such a female answer. 'I could eat'."
"You're right, I should've commented my disdain over the fact that you didn't already have food ready like a good little host would," I retorted, hopping up onto a counter. Stolid eyes drilled into my grinning face. He held the look as he moved my legs to the side, slipping into the cabinet underneath.
"What're you making?"
"Instant ramen. Seems like the type of garbage you probably eat on a regular basis."
"Says the man who has instant ramen readily on hand,"
"Touche," He relinquished, setting a kettle on the stove. He turned to face me again, face unreadable.
"So."
"So."
"You didn't answer my question from before,"
"Which one was that again?"
"The one about your stalking habits."
"No clue what you're referring to."
"Really," His voice was too sly. Slow footsteps drew him closer. My eyes grew wary and his turned feline.
"So you have no idea about the inconspicuous black car following me after school a few nights ago, abundantly obvious in their "careful" one-block-distance?"
Oh my god.
He knew this whole time.
If Shota Aizawa could freeze any memory and place it on his mantle, it would be of my whole-body flush, eyes like saucers and mouth opening stupidly, realizing I'd been caught red-handed.
Between that night's drinking and all the time that had passed, I was sure I'd either imagined the whole scenario or had been sneaky enough for him not to have noticed. How could I have been so stupid as to think a professional stealth hero hadn't noticed my novice tailing?
If I concentrated hard enough, could I melt my entire body down to a liquid and seep through the floor?
A warm, genuine laugh filled the air; a sound I'd never experienced before.
His dark eyes were soft, mouth again wrinkled in just the one corner. Like a little kid realizing they had the power to smile but still only half able to. I felt like I was going to faint from the dizzying warmth spreading through my chest, up my throat and swirling my brain into cotton candy.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
His smile grew just an inch, eyes half-mast as he leaned against the counter and continued our staring contest. He looked almost as dreamy as my mind felt. Could he- Is he feeling this, too?
"You're ditzy, and sporadic. You are the clumsiest woman I've ever met, and probably couldn't fend off a tantrum-throwing second grader. Half the time you use pencils to hold up that ridiculous mass of hair. So how, then, did you worm your way into one of the most prestigious schools in Japan?"
My fingers twitched in annoyance. I lost the contest and looked away, drawing a true blank on how to answer. The gentle force of his skin against mine, pulling my gaze back to his, silenced the jitters better than my regulation ever could. I breathed in his exhale; he was so close.
Your move, damsel.
"Maybe they were just spellbound by my witty personality."
Aizawa laughed again. My lips bent, drawn by his joviality.
Who is this man?
"Chiyo."
"Shota." I answered, stomach riled just from murmuring his first name. His eyes were on my mouth and my heart was off to the races.
Drawn by invisible strings my head angled, eyelids suddenly too heavy to keep open.
Screeeee!
"Shit," I hissed, jumping half out of my skin. Aizawa sucked in a hard breath and staggered back, moment lost as the kettle alerted us of its heating completion.
I have never hated an inanimate object more in my whole life.
"Chick-Erm, chicken or shrimp?" He asked, running a hand through his hair and turning his back to me. The urge to submerse myself into him, rip him around and press my mouth to his, was staggering. It would hardly take any effort at all.
"Chicken."
They sat like polar opposites of a magnet, repelled to the furthest corners from one another on the six-foot couch. He noted the annoying way she slurped her noodles, and she in turn recognized his disdain for the shriveled green peas, which he picked out and furtively placed in a napkin.
"Just because you think you're being discreet doesn't mean I can't see you picking those out, you know. Don't want me to know your weakness?"
"Kiss my ass."
Gladly, she thought.
A choking spell was suddenly cast upon the woman, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Aizawa shook his head in mockery.
Every move of those soft-looking, ample legs caught his attention; the way she shifted in her seat, crossed her ankles. He didn't appreciate anyone's feet on his coffee table, but the view gifted to him upon her doing so was enough to silence the pet peeve. The sweater he'd lended her taunted him, snug on her thighs.
His fingers itched with the desire to either pull it down further or pull it off completely.
"So."
"So."
"What do you do for fun?"
"Mostly nap." Could you be any more interesting?
"Ah," Chiyo stood, empty styrofoam cup in hand. "I am an excellent napper."
Aizawa snorted. "How does one excel at napping?"
"Through practice," She began, trailing over to take his empty cup as well. His eyes followed her figure as she meandered into the kitchen, easily finding the garbage bin under the sink. Did she stalk out my apartment, too?
"My body warms up to just the right temperature, my quirk spreads and regulates the heart and blood flow of anyone I'm in contact with, and-" She held her arms out, in the living room once more. "I'm the perfect cuddling height for men, women, and children of all ages. Just ask the kids I used to babysit, or my mom,"
"Or your mom," He repeated with a growing smile. Chiyo's confidence wavered at his tone, arms beginning to fall back against her waist. The sweater, by the grace of divinity, remained wrinkled to the level it had risen when she'd raised her arms. Aizawa sent his gratitude towards the heavens.
"It's still pretty early. You wanna show off these napping skills, or are you all talk?"
"Wh-What?"
He glanced at the clock hanging above the television. "Your clothes probably aren't dry yet, and we don't leave for the seminar until 9 tomorrow. We've got a little time to kill. So-" With impeccable ease he caught the backs of those taunting legs, guiding her natural collapse and bringing her close, quietly relishing her gasping surprise and obvious nervousness.
She was just as soft and warm as promised, fitting near perfectly in the crook of his arms. Deftly he pulled the blanket from the back of the couch down around them, snuggling down farther and bringing her body with his.
Chiyo rose and for a frightening second he thought she was going to leave, fearful of having acted too boldly, irrationally.
An odd sensation lapped against his neck; she was pulling her hair out from under him, jostled in the sudden movement of their bodies, before lifting his arm and placing herself underneath.
With her body pressed into his, Aizawa became abundantly aware of her lack of clothing- namely around her chest. He shifted, glad to have chosen sweats over anything remotely fitted.
"So, now wh-"
His words tapered as the strangest sensation began coursing through to his very core. As if he could feel every individual drop of blood running through his veins, warm and lethargic as hot chocolate, weighing down his bones, cushioning his soul.
He'd heard they used weighted blankets in the sensory rooms at school to calm overstimulated students, but had never fully understood their effect.
Lying here, compressed by what could only be Chiyo's quirk, was the most secure, soothing feeling Shota had ever experienced. He breathed a long, winding breath, and her lips smiled against his side.
"Deep touch pressure releases serotonin, which promotes relaxation. It's weird, I know, but I've been doing this for so long that it just sort of...spreads," Her breath warmed his skin; tickled even. He couldn't have moved away if he'd tried.
"I'm submersed into you, too. It's kind of like a forced regulation. I can, um, I can lay on the other side of the couch or something, if you want-"
"Christ, no." Aizawa breathed, appalled at the thought. She shifted- probably to gape at his face. He didn't even bother opening his eyes to find out.
Was this her power? Was this just the tip of the iceberg? She'd said she did this all the time; who could use their power continuously like that? What secrets did she possess in that curious brain of hers, and why? She was nerves and ice, snarkiness and sincerity, grins and grimaces and subtle blushes.
With her curled against him, exactly the perfect length to hold, he felt himself slipping into dangerous waters.
Aizawa had just enough strength to wrap his arm more securely around her, hand resting on the soft curve of her waist.
"Chiyo…" His mouth, filled with sleep, could barely manage. A chuckle sounded far away from him.
"Goodnight, Shota."
I couldn't stop staring at him.
He looked like a little kid, lips parted for breathing, a glossy sheen forming in the corner of his mouth. Those dark, tired eyes were free of stress and fatigue as smoothed, calmed lids met the long lashes of their counterparts', unmoving.
His breaths were deep and far apart; he was completely, blissfully asleep.
I was lying on the couch of the most aloof, moody professional hero I'd ever met. The man I'd despised since my interview at UA Academy, whose primary goal had seemed to drive me away. Whose steely glance could silence a room of the most boisterous students. Who donated bags full of materials to stray cats and dogs and waited to walk with me to class each school morning.
When was the last time he had a full night's sleep? The clock on the wall read well past the time I should've left, but something held me in place, with him.
I could count on one hand how many real boyfriends I'd had in my life; all devolving into disinterest and vagueness on my part. Girl meets boy, girl likes boy, girl gets bored of the same routine, the same unpassionate expectations, meals, and life, girl fades into the background, spinelessly removing herself from the picture.
Intrigue wasn't something naturally inborne for me. I had been pursued before and, feeling surprised and obligated, persisted in dating the person until I couldn't stand it anymore. Why?
Because I didn't want to make a fuss. To be called a tease, or prude. To spare feelings.
Because I'm the damsel waiting for the right prince to save me.
I never considered I might have the power to save myself. Choose for myself.
"Stop staring at me, Tsutomi."
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Aizawa caught me before I could fall, using his weight to hoist my body across his, snugly imprisoning me against the couch and himself. My face mashed against his sighing chest, temple on his collarbone, a prickly chin resting atop my head. The heart in my chest pounded ten beats harder. I concentrated desperately on regulating, on not effecting his system as mine went haywire. Clearly, this failed; he breathed a harmless snicker into my hair.
"Enjoying yourself?"
"Not nearly as much as you, apparently,"
I shifted, uncomfortable. With a wiggle my leg wedged between his, body unwinding from the tight coil it was trapped in. I let out a relieved sigh as blood flowed back into my limbs.
"So is this your game- bring women over and get them cozy so they won't want to leave you?"
"I don't do that."
I wiggled up and he moved, allowing my face to lie next to his on the cushioned armrest. His charcoal eyes were clear; free of the normal redness that seemed to plague him.
"No? So what do you call this?"
"I meant I don't bring women over," Aizawa answered simply. My eyebrows rose. His lips lifted in response. "Just the cute, weak ones who stalk me."
My face flushed at the new term I'd collected. "Do you get a lot of stalkers?"
He laughed.
"No."
"Let's play the question game,"
"No."
Deft fingers snuck under his shirt, cool on his stomach. I was gratified with an instant, jerking reaction- from the cold or the feel of my hands on his skin, I couldn't be sure.
"We could play the color game instead. For each wrong guess on what color I'm thinking of, my hand gets to travel lower-"
"What's your first question?" He interrupted, annoyed. My cheshire grin heightened his irritation.
I considered before asking; "Did you go to UA Academy yourself?"
"Yes. Did you always want to be a teacher?"
"No. Did you?"
He frowned. "You didn't even explain your answer. What did you want to do before?"
"That's another question."
"No, it's me thoroughly investigating my original due to your shitty response. If anything, I deserve extra points."
I laughed. "I didn't know there was a point system; what's the prize?"
"One free request of the winner's choice."
Interesting. I'd take it.
"Alright. But all questions must be answered thoroughly, and no cop outs. You cop out, the other person automatically wins," I closed my eyes, recalling my college days and how I'd struggled to choose a major. "Originally I wanted to be a nurse, but blood and bruises and everything in between makes me want to pass out. Not really a characteristic you'd want of a nurse,"
Aizawa grew pensive, gaze distant.
"What?"
"I'm imagining you in a nurse's outfit. Except instead of a hat there's just two big, idiotic bows-"
I pinched his side, hard. The hard muscles constricted underneath. Ticklish? He didn't really strike me as the type. I slid my nails across his soft skin, testing. Tremors reverberated against my touch, but he didn't pull away. Interesting, indeed.
"Why don't you wear your hair up more often than you do?"
"Because I don't care."
I squinted. He sighed.
"It's an extra layer of protection from the world. As a professional hero I'm allotted a limited amount of privacy; anything to elevate that is desirable. Plus," The space below his temple crinkled. "I'm lazy."
"I like your hair pulled back," I reached out, brushed the wisps from his right temple. His body grew still, eyes trained on my face, unreadable. I recalled my hand and placed it under my cheek for leverage. "Your turn,"
"Why do you and your mother look so different? Do you favor your father?"
A thousand ravens took off in my chest, loud and violent. The spike caused involuntary spasms and embarrassment colored my face. I hadn't been asked a question like that in so long, but I hadn't said any subject was off limits.
Throughout school, students had noted and commented on our differences, from faces to eye color to heights. I had heard this question more times than any other.
It didn't make it any less striking or uncomfortable when it was brought up, though.
The weight of his limbs pressed down my flinching calf, my shaking arm.
"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," His voice was soft; as soft as the fingers trailing down my arm and taking my nervous hand in his, warm from his recent sleep.
Aizawa made me feel secure, but more than that.
He made me feel brave.
Did I want to ruin that perception for him?
"I don't really know. My father was killed when I was little," His fingers momentarily froze, mirroring his face. I shook my head quickly, smile reassuring. "It's okay! It's not a big deal; I never even knew him. I just haven't been asked about it in a long time, so I kind of forgot how jarring it can be,"
"How old were you?"
"I'm not sure? It's all kind of blur; my first memories are of mom, so I'd say pretty young,"
His fingers were moving against mine, soft and slow. Why is something as stupid as that sending tingles down my spine?
"Do you ever wonder about what life would've been like, had he lived?"
"No," My voice rose before the thought even could. It was something people couldn't seem to understand. "It's always just been Mom and me. She's the one who raised and loved me. She gave everything to me. I don't even know how it happened. Mom used to get a little unhinged whenever I asked about it, so I just...stopped. Especially when I realized at a very young age that a lecture about the dangers of quirks usually followed my questions,"
As a kid, I'd spend hours trying to figure out what had happened to him. After childhood, though, I'd never been overly interested- I'd had Mom. She was temperamental and crazy and so, so pushy, but she was Mom. No one had ever loved or understood me more.
Clearly, quirks had something to do with the disappearance of my father. Had he been killed in an accident, or by a villian? The terrifying idea of him being a villain, perhaps rotting in a prison cell somewhere, floated into my consciousness and shortened my breath. Shota was a professional hero- one who moved stealthily and apprehended criminals. What if he had been a villain and Shota was the one to stop him? Had my father taken the lives of others? How many? Was Aizawa old enough to have been around? Surely not, but what if he had been? He'd be here, lying on the couch with the daughter of a murderer-
"Chiyo."
Strong fingers cupped my face and I blinked, suddenly aware of the serious, concerned face of Shota Aizawa hovering over mine. The tip of his nose grazed mine, he was so close. Sweat dampened my neck and horses ran through my ribcage at a breakback speed. I tried to focus on positive sensations; the matching scent of Aizawa's skin and my own, the heat of his hands, the tickle of his hair on my temple. The stampede began to fade.
"Where did you go?" He murmured. The hand was loosening but hadn't completely left, instead sliding into my hair. I closed my eyes, swallowed. Of all the times to freak out.
"My mom chose a job that would assure she'd be home to take care of me. She never dated, or if she did she was stealthier than even you. She never forced me to try out for sports, or be around people that made me anxious. She was more than willing to pay for my college tuition, but I wouldn't let her. She'd...She'd already given me so much," Pushing on, at least scratching the surface of this monster, seemed the best route. I took a deep breath.
"If...If not using my quirk was what would make her happiest and give her peace of mind, I decided it was worth it. It was the least I could do to repay her."
"Was?"
Shit, had I said 'was'?
Upon peeking one eye open, I found his gaze still directly caught on mine. I lidded the eye quickly and was rewarded with his chuckle-scoff.
"It's...complicated."
"So I see."
Did he see, really? He'd fallen back, breath steady. This was a variation of what I'd told Toshinori, but not a lie, either. Should I tell him more? If he asked me, I would. I turned to fully face him again.
"What was your childhood like?"
"Tiring."
He failed to elaborate. I lithely slipped my hand down to pinch his pectoral. He, in response, let out an exaggerated hiss, writhing in pain. What a baby.
"It was a childhood. My parents were good to me, but pushy. I went to UA because they wanted me to. It was as angsty and depressing as the next teenage boy's life, I'm sure."
"Did you date a lot?"
"Define 'a lot,'"
I frowned. A smirk itched at his lips, and I considered pinching him again. His eyes flicked to mine, borderline devilish.
"When did you lose your virginity?"
Nope. Nope nope.
"We're done," I concluded, pushing myself into an upright position and trying to stand. His laughter and hands caught me, trying to pull me back. I gave him a withering glare, pulling away and sashaying down the hallway.
"Chiyo! Come on, don't be a baby," Aizawa called, still snickering. "If you don't answer, I win."
"Congratulations, winner!" I called back, entering the bathroom. My clothes were cool to the touch, but dry. I slipped off the cozy pullover and pushed my limbs into my own outfit, debating whether I could sneak his sweater under my shirt or something. Stop, don't be so weird.
"Can you drive me home?"
He sat up, uniquely caught off guard. "I didn't mean to offend you, Chiyo. Really,"
I waved off his apology before hiking a thumb at the clock. "We have to be at school in less than six hours now. I need to go home; I haven't even packed."
"Of course you haven't," He mused. I clicked my teeth together, giving a full-tooth, crazed smile. Aizawa smirked but rightly didn't comment further.
"Let me grab my keys."
His posture driving caricatured his overall persona: seat nearly all the way back, long legs lax, one hand lazily on the wheel. I sat cross-legged in the passenger seat, back ramrod straight. He'd already rolled his eyes at me, of which I ignored, and was now trying not to watch my every move as I went through his glove compartment.
"Do you...live alone?"
Was he asking if I lived with a man? Wouldn't all of this have been wildly inappropriate if there was someone else in the picture?
"I mean, I live with a cat."
His attention was immediate. I turned my head, a little wary at his severe expression.
"Give me his name," Aizawa commanded. I blinked, taken aback.
"Um, Nasu. He's black, short, and tubby. Like an eggplant."
His dark head nodded, face serious. "Good. That's good."
What?
Before I could inquire just what the hell that reaction was about we were turning into my apartment complex, parking lot silent. I felt a pang of jealousy over Aizawa's flat and how nice it must be to never have to climb dreaded stairs or waft through the stench coming out of other apartments on the same floor. "It's over there, yeah. Park beside my car."
I turned, suddenly nervous. Did I thank him? Apologize again for this mild stalking habit of mine?
His seat was vacant.
I jumped as my own door opened, Aizawa watching me curiously.
"Are you getting out or what?"
He walked beside me, into the musty stairwell and down a poorly-lit hallway. If he was unnerved by the atmosphere he was sensible about it, eyes passive.
I unlocked the door and a shadow darted out, meowing in the most pathetic octave possible.
"Nasu," I explained plainly. The woeful creature all but collapsed around my feet, still crying as if he didn't have a full water and food bowl, cat playhouse, and full-sized bed just five feet away. "I actually got him at the shelter you donated those goods to. Ever since I brought him home he's been a spoiled little oil spill."
Aizawa bent at the waist and scooped up Nasu. Bad idea- Nasu hated nearly everyone but me; even mom had never been overly accepted by my black shadow. I reached out, nervous. "Wait, he'd doesn't really-"
Aizawa cradled him like a baby, face lost in Nasu's dark fur. Nasu, in turn, looked wholly perturbed, emerald orbs nearly eclipsed by his pupils. Here it comes.
Instead of erasing Shota's face from this earth, Nasu did the unthinkable.
A deep, vibrating purr filled the hallway, fluffy paws clawing the air as Aizawa tickled his chin. I dropped my keys in shock.
"I fucking love cats," Aizawa said, still pressing Nasu up to his face. "They're independent, full of heat and healing purrs, aren't overzealous, sleep at least twelve hours a day, and are smart enough to shit in a box. Plus, look at them-" He lifted Nasu under his front shoulders and held him out at arms length, wagging his sagging belly and back legs gently. Nasu, in turn, mewled in piteous delight. My esophagus filled with disgust. Seriously?
"Look at him. Look at his divinity," Aizawa commanded. I nodded, baffled and still a little nauseated.
"Uh, yep."
Aizawa released Nasu with a sigh. The bastard cat didn't even glance my way as he pranced back into the apartment, tail high in the air. I could actually vomit.
"Wow. That was...Wow. I guess I should be happy; Nasu totally hated my last boyfriend," Aizawa's eyebrows rose and my face flushed, tongue tied. "Not that we're- I just meant, he hated the last man I brought over. Not that I bring a lot of men over, just-" An awkward, horrible laugh fell out of my mouth, along with all of my dignity. I gave a hard blink, trying to restart.
"Thank you, for letting me come over and for dinner. And for driving me home,"
"Thank you for giving me the best sleep I've ever had."
Another awkward laugh escaped and I considered stapling my mouth shut. That shy, boyish smile was tickling his lips and my brain racked for a topic to fill the space, to keep him rooted in front of me instead of leaving. He beat me to the finish line.
"For the record, I think you've been gifted with a really special quirk; one worth using. You clearly do, discreetly, maybe even unconsciously, and I understand your reasoning for not desiring to. It's your quirk, though; using it for yourself or to help others, in my opinion, is not a dishonorable thing to do."
It's your quirk.
Their responses, though similar, rang so differently in my mind.
He was so tall; too tall.
With a breath I found his blood, pulled it towards my rising hands.
His dark eyes grew in size before I couldn't see them anymore, too preoccupied with fitting his soft lips on mine.
His hair was silky between my fingers. I brought him closer, body delirious when his mouth almost immediately responded, moving against mine.
It was over nearly as quick as it began. I pulled away, eyes slow to open. The feel of my pounding heart was foreign, racing at a different rate than normal.
I realized, then, that it was his.
"Good night, Shota," My mouth spoke against his. A slender hand tried to reach out for my body, head unconsciously shaking in gentle denial. I pulled away, dizzy from the sickly happiness this feeling brought, watching the collected hero act so unnaturally disheveled. Aizawa let out an incoherent grunt, moves sluggish, eyes hooded as I slipped into my apartment and slowly closed the door.
I slid down, bones blissfully heavy, heart a gooey, lovesick marshmallow.
This was, without a doubt, a dire strait to choose.
The logical piece of my mind fell silent as the rest- body, heart, and brain- performed a crazed dance, throwing all care to the wind.
