Check Me Out

by CrypticBeans

Raising one child, fostering another and running a book store is no easy feat. Especially when Hizashi has to balance his two other jobs but he's doing it! Or so he believes. It's only when he finds himself meeting Shouta Aizawa that his world seems to flip over and spin on its head.

35. A Lonely Heart Still Beats

It was amazing how time seemed to move. How, even for Hizashi, it flowed seamlessly. Marched on silently with himself being dragged right along with it as he was forced to continue his days. Three weeks gone in the blink of an eye. Three weeks of trudging through the snow to get the boys to school. Three weeks of trying to busy himself with his job at the book store. Three weeks of trying to fill the quiet spaces of his life with noise.

Three weeks of trying his best to march forward with his head held high. Three weeks of throwing himself into playing with his sons and dedicating himself to helping wiht homework. Three weeks of visiting his siblings and their families. Visiting his mothers. Anything that made the days that seemed to crawl by go faster. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know what was worse; the days or the nights.

If it was the way he reached for his phone instinctively, looking for a text message only to have nothing. To have reload his texts again and again just to see if something would change. Hoping that something would change. It broke his heart when nothing did; when with each tug on his screen that there still remained to be nothing from Shouta. That no matter how much he willed silently for it to be there he knew it wouldn't work.

The nights where he curled up on his side with his phone screen glowing up at him with not a single text from the black-haired man. No calls. No texts. No video calls. Nothing. He didn't know what to do with himself; he felt absolutely beside himself with each day that crawled by. It was worse than the weeks after their tragic first kiss. He was waiting for Shouta to text him back, to call him, to hear his voice. He wanted the chance again to defend himself to the black-haired man.

He wanted the chance to explain everything. To tell him how it was with himself, Nemuri and Oboro. That there was nothing there but platonic love. Platonic touches. Nemuri and Oboro were his best friends; hell, they were like another brother and sister to him! He'd not had romantic feelings for them since high school when he had his tiny crushes on the both of them. Of course, those crushes led nowhere but they'd been with him through it all.

The years of hard partying and the sobering years as he took on Hitoshi. They'd been with him, bought him binders, and supported him during his top surgery. They'd been there to bring him meals when he was laid up in bed with his chest aching and his body fatigued. They'd lived with him for the duration of his healing process to make sure stitches didn't rip and then to make sure his scarring went properly. They were like a brother and sister whom he adored.

Because at the end of the day, they were family. Sure, the picture itself looked back with his head tucked into Nemuri's chest. His cheek against her breast. Yes, it could be seen as wrong but there was not a thing that was sexual about it. Not a damn thing. And he wanted to explain that to Shouta but he didn't want to break the silence first. God, he wanted it to be broken but he knew better than to send a text. To call Shouta. To go to his apartment.

God, the longing was the thing that was breaking him apart. The desire to talk to him. To text him throughout the day. To call him at night. To hear his voice over his phone speaker crackling lightly as they laughed together. To see him on his screen looking lovely as ever with his black curls and pale skin. Shimmering dark eyes that always glowed at him. The smile that would tip up on his full lips that always took his breath away. It was hard.

Very, very hard knowing that Shouta was merely stewing in his own jealousy and assuming things about himself and Nemuri. Jealousy did horrible things to people. Jealousy ripped friendships and relationships apart. What would Shouta say when the silence was finally broken? What would he do when he was curled up in bed holding himself? When his mind was convinced that this was going to be the end of everything when all he'd wanted was to confess to Shouta.

He'd been ready for it. Eager for it. But it was agony waiting for Shouta to mend the gap that had widened between them. He wanted nothing more than to question the black-haired man. To poke and prod the black-haired man until he got an answer. Until he knew where they stood. If only Nemuri had never posted the picture. If she'd never taken it. But he didn't fault her; he would never hold it against her because how could she know?

How could she know it would fire this response in Shouta? None of them could have known. Hell, he hadn't even expected Shouta to admit so freely that he was jealous over the picture. That he felt weird about it. In all of his time knowing Shouta, it felt like something he'd never see the black-haired man admitting out loud to anyone let alone to the person involved in the situation. Even Nemuri and Oboro were surprised by Shouta's blatant confession.

Both had all but agreed with him that Shouta wasn't the type to admit his jealousy. The fact that he did mean something to everything. The couple had apologized over and over again to him but he had hardly breathed a word to them. He didn't blame them one bit. After all, how could he? The picture was innocent enough; perhaps he shouldn't have his head to her breast but that's how he'd always slept when they curled up together like that.

He'd never seen anything wrong with it before but was there something wrong with it? He wished he could ask Shouta just what about the picture made him jealous. He wished he'd thought while they were texting to ask him what about it stirred up that jealousy. He wished he could know why the black-haired man reacted the way he did. Why he asked for such space like this. Did Shouta feel the same way he did? Was this a nail in the coffin he hadn't known was being nailed shut?

What did he, in reality, had done? He knew that Shouta was entitled to his emotions and he was entitled to his reactions. But what mean for him? Was it putting him in the dog house? Was he being shoved away because, somehow, Shouta knew he was going to confess? Was Shouta panicking because of that? Was he using any reason he could think of to push him away like this? There was so many unanswered questions that persisted throughout those three weeks of silence.

Ideas, questions, thoughts bouncing off of his brain again and again like it was shrouded in a wasp's nest. Stinging him over and over again leaving him with more worries, more stress, than he had started off. He couldn't believe that one little picture had caused all of this. One little picture was that whole catalyst of this situation. Over the past three weeks, Nemuri had been stopping in at the shop to bring him breakfast and lunch.

Had been bringing him coffees, teas, and hot chocolates to keep him warm when he felt so cold. He accepted the meals and drinks to keep the woman from worrying about him anymore than she already did. He knew from that afternoon that Nemuri felt an immense guilt. When Oboro had woken that afternoon, he had been looped in as to what was going on. The couple had done their best to support him; to care and take care of him for the day as the three of them curled up together in his bed together.

Communicating with sign language until he'd dozed off again. Waking to the darkness of his bedroom with Nemuri and Oboro both holding onto him like he was their anchor. As if they worried, he'd disappear beneath their hands. When the two of them woke, it had been a quiet dinner affair with the three of them chewing on their food. Curled up on the couch together with Nemuri and Oboro silently leaning into him. The reassurances of that afternoon were old and worn out.

He merely wanted to exist and try not to think that first day. He knew his life was far from over. After all, how could he let his life be over all for one man? A man he'd known for six months at that? He refused. He had resolved to himself that he wouldn't let this ruin him. Wouldn't let this be the thing that tore him away from his responsibilities. Away from what he knew to be right and wrong. Away from his sons who were so confused on his down attitude.

The last thing he was going to do was let a man ruin his whole life over six months. He refused. And yet he couldn't deny those three weeks dragged. They dragged in the worst way possible. Nights spent refreshing his phone and texts hoping that somehow, he'd find a text from Shouta. Nights where he laid with his knees to his chest trying to understand what had gone so wrong. Why the picture had triggered jealousy in the other man.

Once the second week had started up, he did his best to pick himself up wash it off. He couldn't lay in bed a night more waiting for a text that wasn't coming. That wouldn't come for him. And so, he did his best not to think about Shouta. Did his best not to worry about him. He did his best to throw himself into work, into his sons, and into his family. Family that he felt he hadn't seen in forever because he'd been so wrapped up in Shouta.

His youngest siblings, Hana and Haru, were only in their early twenties and he felt like he was missing out on their lives. Missing out on time with his mothers who were growing ever older on him. He tried his best not to think about Shouta and finding things in his life to focus on proved to be working. Proved to keep him going. But there were nights when he was tossing in bed hoping to check his phone only to fight the urge to do so.

Then checking his phone to see if the black-haired man had texted yet only to be let down. To be disappointed. And by the time he was entering his third week his heart ached. It truly ached with a fervor that left him breathless. Three weeks of silence would leave anyone longing. Leave anyone begging for some kind of answer as to why there was silence. For an answer in general. And yet he fought that urge to reach out to the black-haired man the best that he could.

He tried to live his life the way that he had before Shouta had come into it. Weathering the winter months by shoveling his driveway and front walkway and salting them both. Checking his snow tires. Getting the boys on the bus who were cranky from being groggy due to the dark skies when they were headed out. He did his best to clean his house from top to bottom, get laundry in the washer and dryer before heading out to work.

He was trying to lose himself in the old routines that he had before he met Shouta. For three weeks he'd been doing his best to ignore the ache that festered in his chest. For three weeks, he tried to give Shouta the benefit of doubt. Letting him stew in his own thoughts but he wasn't sure how to bridge the silence. How to break it without waving away Shouta's jealousy. Because to him, that jealousy meant that the black-haired man felt something, didn't it?

Wasn't there something to be gleamed from that? Wasn't there something to learn from that? Did it mean that Shouta had the same feelings he did? Or was it a platonic jealousy? Was he reading this the wrong way? Was there a right way to do this? He had not a clue what he was to assume and if he should assume anything. He didn't know what to do with himself over those three weeks of silence. There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to text the black-haired man.

Whether that was to merely say good morning or good night. To send him a funny thought he'd had or a sweet yet funny story he had about the boys. To trade pictures of his children with the black-haired man who would send the sweetest candid photos of Eri to him in response. What did he do with himself? He didn't know what to do to bridge the silence between them. He didn't know if his efforts would be rebuffed or if there would be something he could do about this.

He knew that going on ignoring one another wasn't going to do anything but drive that wedge tighter between them. And he didn't want there to be a wedge at all. He didn't want there to be anything of the sort that kept Shouta away from him. If anything, this silence between them allowed him to see his dependency on the black-haired man. His feelings. It was hard to admit it but he truly did like Shouta. Perhaps even adored him.

But those words felt far too weak for the emotions he felt in his chest but "love" felt too strong of a word to use after three months of crushing on someone. Three out of six months spent pining and longing. How could he use the word love when it felt too strong? What other word would fit the crush that festered in his chest? He didn't want to be childish and use the terminology of like-like when it came to Shouta but what would be better fitting? He had a serious, genuine crush on this man.

An emotion so strong it was choking him with each passing day. A heavy weight in his chest that was festering into something close to agony. He'd not gone this long without seeing Shouta in- God, how long was the last time? Was there a last time? He felt like a damn fool. Devoted to this crush. Devoted to this man. He was a hopeless case, wasn't he? He was an absolute lost chance and he was going to drown under this crush, wasn't he? He didn't want to forget Shouta.

He didn't want to do anything that could be seen as "moving on" because he was far from it. He didn't want to seem callous or blasé but what did he do? The silence from Shouta was speaking volumes to him and he was scared. He was terrified if he was honest with himself. He didn't know when Shouta was going to reach out or when he was going to break the silence. He had not a clue as to when the black-haired man was going to reach out again and it was by far the most terrifying thing.

Waiting.

Waiting, waiting, waiting for something. Anything. Waiting for Shouta to reach out to him. Waiting to see him again. Waiting to feel his touch again. Waiting to hear his voice again. Waiting to look into those dark eyes again. Waiting to admire those black curls he so adored again. Waiting, waiting, waiting. It was going to drive him insane if he waited a moment longer but he knew that it was better to be patient. Better to keep his head.

Better to let Shouta sort through this jealousy that he felt before they talked like the rational adults they were. But how much silence was too much? How much silence before his heart firmly broke? How much silence before he feared that for some reason Shouta would cut him off? How long was he too wait in this limbo? How long was he supposed to wait like some kind of lap dog that had been kicked to the side?

He hated feeling like the forlorn, kicked puppy with an aching heart waiting for his master to acknowledge him again. He didn't want to be a pathetic man. He didn't want to be this pathetic. This hung up on one man. All he could do was live his life, right? To live it while he waited for Shouta. But how long did he wait? How long did he let this silence go on? Was there a right or wrong answer for a situation like this? Was there something he simply wasn't seeing?

Curled up on the couch, he could hear the giggling shouts of his sons upstairs in their bedroom as his knees drew up. He stared at his phone screen with his fingers squeezing the sides causing the phone to protest the tight grasp he had on it. The case creaking lightly as he stared at the last text that had been sent to Shouta. His final "okay" before the silence had taken over. It ached; his heart was a throbbing thing in his chest as he forced himself to close out the texts with the black-haired man.

Swallowing around the knot in his throat, he turned his attention to the TV screen as he turned his screen off. The weatherman was murmuring about a storm system coming through that would drop another two feet of snow on them. God, when would the snow stop? It seemed like just the other day they got two feet worth of snow already. It had him sighing out softly to himself when he heard the buzzer of the dryer. He shifted before throwing the blanket off of himself as he swung his legs over the edge of the couch.

Reaching his hands up to tug his hands through his hair, he scraped it all back the best he could and grabbed his hair claw clip and bunched his hair up. Clipping it up as locks fluttered over his shoulders but he ignored it the best he could as he stood up with his heart heavy in his chest. He hated this heaviness. He placed a hand over his chest, taking a deep breath, then padding forward towards the small door of their utility room with his stomach dropping.

He reached out, grabbing the small knob, and tugging it open as he reached in to flick the light on. Stepping into the space, he rolled his head and shoulders slightly before padding over to the dryer where he placed the hamper in front of it to keep the door open as he began scooping clothes out of the dryer. Stuffing them into the hamper as the giggling squeals of his sons just barely reached him. Working to get the clothing into the hamper quickly, he sighed out to himself.

Soon enough he got the drum cleared out when he checked the washer. He'd run a load with the towels and he began to reach in to tug the damp things out and throw them into the dryer. It felt good being busy. It felt good to have something to do with his hands. Anything that didn't allow him to hold onto his phone was a welcomed distraction as he got the wet towels in to the dryer. Moving the basket to close the door, he fussed with the dials before pressing on the power button.

The dryer started up with a whir as he grabbed the basket and shuffled out of the utility room into the living room. He blinked when he heard pounding footsteps on the stairs as Hitoshi and Izuku came shrieking into the living room. Running around the couch and loveseat, running across the floor with shrieks of delight before running back to the stairs where they ran up them. It had him blinking in surprise before smiling softly to himself as he shut the utility room door behind him.

Might as well get a head start on folding his laundry. He heaved the basket towards the couch where he sat it down and he took his seat on the couch again. The news anchor was interviewing the victim of a mugging at a corner store. It had him clicking his tongue as he dipped his hands into the basket to pull out a shirt that he quickly folded up then sat on the coffee table before him. Paying close attention to the shirt he held in his hand, he began to sort through the boys laundry.

He folded up the shirt in his grasp and laying it next to the shirt on the table. He couldn't stop his gaze from flicking to his silent phone with his lips pinching together slightly when he then reached into the basket to take out a pair of pants. Izuku's. He folded them up and placed them next to him on the couch. He felt himself sinking into the mind numbing folding as he absents mindedly sorted out the boys clothing with each item he pulled from the basket.

He caught a few thuds from upstairs from the boys running around up there with shrieks of delight drifting down the stairs towards him while he hummed quietly to himself. He took a slow breath in then let it out slowly as he continued folding the laundry. It was high time for bedtime; the boys were staying up a little late tonight. Just a little later. But he had told them at eight thirty they were to begin brushing their teeth and readying themselves for bed and he'd be up.

Perhaps it was a good thing he was knocking out a load of laundry for the boys who were rough housing upstairs. Not at all winding down the way they should be for bed time. But maybe it was a good thing they got their energy out now before they laid down. God knows his mothers would let himself and his siblings wind each other up before bed only to tire themselves out before heading to bed. He would have to check to make sure they weren't taking toys out but he had to trust something.

Trust that this process might just work. To let the boys tire one another out before bed might be the answer to Hitoshi's restlessness at night. He had plans on picking up Hitoshi's new prescription Monday morning; it was only melatonin but the doctor had assured him it would help Hitoshi sleep at night. A capful at bedtime and Hitoshi would be out like a light. He had been spacing since the appointment on Thursday but he planned on picking up the medicine tomorrow.

He'd get it on the way to work or on the way home for Hitoshi to try out. The pharmacy liked taking its sweet time filling prescriptions which didn't help either. At least they'd have a solution come Monday for Hitoshi's insomnia. He found himself yawning then as his eyes squeezed shut before he shook his head out with a sigh. He'd been going to bed early lately and it was showing. After all, what else did he have to do late at night?

He flinched at the thought as he focused instead on getting his sons clothing separated and folded. It wasn't a big load, thank God, but he got the clothing done far faster than he liked as he found himself nearing the bottom of the basket with a sigh. He then glanced at the clock; it was eight twenty but would the boys really care if he had them going to bed early? They'd been wound up all afternoon long and had hardly stayed still during dinner.

Folding a pair of pants up with a quiet hum, he let his gaze flick up to the TV before him where the weatherman was back. Explaining the road conditions, the wind conditions, and the amount of snow once again. Apparently, it was one of those mega-storms that came with the warnings of power outages. Going over areas that reported power outages themselves. He hoped they didn't lose power. Last time they had a storm that knocked the power off, he and Hitoshi had to cuddle up in bed together with the cats beneath the blankets.

Anything to stay warm. Humming quietly to himself as he picked a pair of pants out of the basket to fold them quickly. And once again, for what felt like the millionth time, his gaze flickered to his silent phone on the coffee table. Too many nights he held the silent device in his hand; willing the black-haired man to text him. To call him. Anything to know that Shouta had gotten over his jealousy over a simple little picture. But it had yet to happen and they were going on their fourth week of no contact.

He had not a clue when Shouta was going to bridge the contact, when he was going to call or text, but they were nearing the month of February. It was leaving him just a bit antsy. Nervous. Anxious. An absolute mess the moment his sons were in bed and he was curled up in his own bed with the cats cuddled up to him. He didn't know what to do with himself; it was taking everything in him not to rip his nails to the quick with his nerves.

He was damn close to texting Shouta himself but he wanted to respect his wishes. Shouta had drawn a line but he was hesitant to cross it. Sighing out to himself, he finished up folding the shirt in his hands before making two stacks of clothing as he stood up. Placing them in the hamper side by side, he heaved it up into his hands as he began to walk across the living room when there was a thud followed by a squeal.

He shook off the melancholic emotion twisting in his chest as he smiled slightly when he entered the hallway and approached the stairs where he climbed up on that first step. Pausing to clear his throat, he then grinned to himself when he thudded the hamper on the stairs once, twice which got the squealing shouts to come to a stop upstairs when he took a breath. Grinning to himself as he listened to the way they inched down the hallway when he lifted his head up as he let that breath out.

"Alright, alright! Enough rough housing! I want to see butts in the bathroom brushing teeth while I put this laundry away! Then we'll get in pajamas! Hop to!" He then began to climb up the stairs with heavy steps as he listened to the resulting thud of feet on the floor followed by squeals of delight. It had him grinning as he trotted up the stairs to hear water running in the bathroom up there.

Padding down the hallway, he peeked into the bathroom where Izuku and Hitoshi stood on their stools with toothbrushes in hand as they wet the bristles. Eyes innocently wide with cheeks flushed from the exertion of their rough housing when he watched lips pucker to enhance that sweetness. That faux innocence when Hitoshi waved his toothbrush at him with water droplets spraying off of his brush. "We're doing it, Dad, see? We're brushin' our teeth!"

"Good! I'll get your clothes put away and pajama's laid out, alright? Don't go making a mess while brushing your teeth either, you both know the proper way to do it." Hitoshi and Izuku both nodded at him then to which he heaved the basket up again and walked across the hall into the boys room which was hectic. Blankets were mussed from running or jumping feet. Stuffed animals strewn across the floor on either side of the small room.

He smiled softly as he placed the basket down and opened Hitoshi's dresser to place shirts and pants into their proper drawers. Then he opened the middle drawer to grab the first pajama set his hands touched which just so happened to be kitten themed pajamas. Laying them out on Hitoshi's messy bed, he listened to the rushing water in the bathroom as he picked the basket up and walked across the room towards Izuku's side when there was a shout from the bathroom that had him pausing. "Da' ca' we be tucked in?"

He couldn't help but smile at the hesitant way that Izuku shouted to him when he shifted the basket slightly. He opened the second and bottom drawer of the boy's dresser to stuff his shirts and pants into them. After emptying the basket, he opened the middle drawer and grabbed a set of pajama's. They had little golden birds on them; he didn't remember buying them so they must have been a gift from someone. Turning his attention away he called over his shoulder. "Of course you can be tucked in! Don't I do it every night for you two?"

There were muffled cheers from the bathroom that had him smiling as he shut the drawers of Izuku's dresser. He then shuffled about the room to pick up the stuffed animals and lining them on their proper beds. Fluffing up pillows and tugging blankets back to prepare the boys for bed as the water ran in the bathroom. There was a screech of the stool on the floor followed by padding feet rushing towards him and he looked over to find Hitoshi running in with toothpaste smeared on his chin. "I'm ready!"

"How about you go clean your face up first, kid? You've got toothpaste all over it and it'll make a mess!" He replied with a smile curling on his lips as the indigo haired child weaved on his feet before turning to run back out of the room quickly. It had him grinning as he listened to the complaining whine of Izuku as the water cut off. And before he knew it, two pairs of feet were running to him with both boys squeezing into the door as he laughed. "Alright, alright! It's not a race, okay? Get in your jammies first!"

He swore he'd never seen clothing be shed faster. Hitoshi was ripping his shirt up and off while Izuku struggled to get his shirt off with the fingers of his casted arm wiggling uselessly. He chuckled as he shuffled over to help Izuku get his shirt up and off while Pants flew across the floor. And then Hitoshi was stepping into his pajama bottoms. Working to get his shirt on when Izuku whined as he got his bottoms off and rushed for his bed for his pajamas when Hitoshi held his hands up. "Me first, Dad! You did Zu first last time!"

"Did I? Well, then I suppose it's your turn to get tucked in first!" Izuku pouted at his words when he began to step into his pajama bottoms, no longer rushing, and he smiled softly at his pouting son. He then turned to Hitoshi who held his arms up and he happily slid his hands to his armpits as he heaved him off his feet. Loving the shriek that left the indigo haired child as he planted him on the bed with purple eyes shimmering at him. He tugged the blanket over his son, tucking in the sides gently, and smiling.

"Can I go first next time, Dad?" Izuku questioned while he made sure Hitoshi was tucked in tightly with his stuffed animals close to him. He smoothed those wild indigo locks off of Hitoshi's forehead adoringly before leaning down to kiss it softly. Making his way down to the bridge of his nose where he kissed the tip of his nose. Loving the giggles that left the boy in response as he then rubbed his thumb against his cheek adoringly before straightening up to find Izuku holding his arms up.

He smiled as he reached out to straighten the hem of his pajama shirt, tugging his pants up gently, then hooking his hands into his armpits. Heaving the green-haired child off of his feet as he shrieked much like Hitoshi had when he planted him on the bed that bounced beneath him. He then tugged the blankets over Izuku, tucking the blankets in as animals were dragged close to him and he smoothed those green curls off of his forehead to press a kiss to it. The bridge and tip of his nose gently. "You can go first next time! Promise!"

"And then I go after him, right?" Hitoshi questioned from across the room and he smiled as he handed Izuku his squid as his nose scrunched up adorably as he poked it gently then rubbed his thumb against his freckled cheek adoringly. Just like he had with Hitoshi. He then straightened up as he looked over to the indigo-haired child who held his cat plush close to his side with wide purple eyes watching him curiously. "Also, can we get pizza tomorrow? Pleaaaase? We haven't gotten it in a long time!"

"Pizza, huh? Maybe I can spring for some pizza for the three of us tomorrow! But you know, a homecooked meal is always the best for growing boys! You're both eating me out of a house and home!" He replied as he padded across the room to make sure their nightlight was plugged in before flicking it on when he then turned to face both boys who watched him with wide eyes. "But I'll see about pizza tomorrow, yeah? Until then, you two need to get some sleep!"

"Okay!" Izuku wiggled then with those big green eyes of his shimmering at him sweetly when the squid was held all the closer to the green-haired child. There was a sweetness in watching the boys, once roughhousing, now relaxed in bed. They seemed a bit keyed up but he knew in a matter of time they'd be out like a light once the rush wore off. They'd be dead asleep in a matter of minutes and hell, he might just head to bed himself. "Dad, can we play outside tomorrow?"

He couldn't deny he wanted to groan at the question. Outside, again? He didn't know how to say no tactfully to playing in the snow but he knew he'd come up with a way to keep the boys inside. He'd be shoveling enough as it is outside when the storm system came through. Shifting as he flicked the lights off, he let out a hum before grabbing the hamper and holding it in his hands. "Maybe! We have a big storm coming through tomorrow so we'll have to wait and see, okay? But I love you, Izu!"

"I love you too, Dad!" The chirrup of the green-haired child was absolutely sweet. It had only been a year but he adored the warmth to his son's voice as he smiled as the soft stars spun around the walls. Over the ceiling. It was just bright enough to gently illuminate; the dark not so deep but not bright enough to keep the boys awake. Soon enough they'd insist on not needing a nightlight at all but until then he adored their lamp. "Goodnight!"

"Goodnight, Izu, you sleep well. " Smiling in the direction of Izuku, he padded over to the door to place the empty hamper out into the hallway. Grabbing the smooth metal of the doorhandle, he squeezed it in his hand as he then turned his attention to Hitoshi. While he couldn't see it clearly, he can only imagine those wide purple eyes of his focused on him as he stood in the doorway of their bedroom. "And I love you too, Toshi! I hope you sleep well tonight, and goodnight to you too!"

"Goodnight! I love you too!" Hitoshi's response was always softer; as if he were somehow shy about saying it in front of his brother. It was always the sweetest thing; he never minded that his son seemed shyer with his affections. He nodded before stepping into the hallway as he pulled the door shut behind him with the knob clicking into place quietly. The wood thudding together softly as he let out a sigh before grabbing the hamper.

He padded across the hall to place it in the corner of the bathroom when he recalled the boys' scattered clothes. He groaned but he could always pick them up tomorrow; it's not like the clothes were going to go anywhere overnight. He padded across the bathroom and shut off the light behind him. Reaching up, he tugged the chain to turn the hall light off as well. He then padded down the darkened hallway to the stairs where he grabbed onto the railings tightly.

And then he flew down the stairs quickly on his toes. Wanting to be quick but quiet as he made his way back down the stairs with a quiet sigh to himself. With the boys now in bed, the laundry in the dryer, what more did he have to do tonight? He already had the dishes in the dish washer, had left-overs from dinner put away, and the house was meticulously clean. What more did he have to do? He hated that he had nothing to do. That there was nothing to do.

He stood in the soft lighting of the living room that spilled into the hallway when he padded forward, socked feet thudding over the floor. He walked into the living room where he grabbed his phone to find, unsurprisingly, nothing waiting for him. It had been that way for three going on four weeks now. He pinched his lips together slightly with his hand tightening on the phone when he slipped it into his pocket before grabbing the TV remote.

Flicking the TV off, he then turned on his feet to make his way across the room where he flicked the lights off plunging the lower half of the house into darkness. Checking the locks on the front door, he then walked forward with his thudding feet filling the darkness. Filling it with a sound of some kind as he walked down the hall into the kitchen. He took the time to walk through the kitchen into the dining room to check the back door to make sure it was locked as well.

Once that was done, he was walking back into the kitchen feeling for all the world like he was aimless. He had nothing to do so what did that mean for him? How did he keep himself busy so he wouldn't think? He clenched his jaw briefly when he found himself weaving on his feet in the middle of the kitchen before an idea came to him. A bath. A hot bath with a glass of wine sounded absolutely divine to him right now. He could take a bath, soak and relax.

Calm himself. He walked forward then with his feet thudding over the kitchen floor as he put a pep to his step. He hadn't taken a bath in some time and surely it would be nice to throw in some bath salts and relax while he sipped on a glass of wine. It wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? He happily padded forward past his freezer down the hallway quickly with his hair swaying against his back as he made his way down his hallway.

He pushed his bedroom doors open to step into the room delightedly before shutting them behind him as the cats looked up at him as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He lightly tossed his phone onto the bed which had Reese jumping to which he frowned but he made his way around the bed. Pausing, he reached out to the cat to rub his hand over her head gently. He paused to scratch beneath her chin where she purred warily at him when he then pulled his hand away after she settled back down.

He padded around the bed then with his feet thudding over the carpeted floor as he made his way to his bathroom. He flicked the light on, the soft golden light filling the bathroom as he walked over to the shower to pull the curtain out of the way then reached for the dial on the wall. Twisting it to the hot side, water burst from the showerhead deafeningly as he then reached down to pull the knob of the nozzle which allowed water to gush out of it.

Rushing over the foot of the bathtub as he did his best to work the water to the drain as he cleaned out the tub. He hummed softly with his heart jumping in his chest with excitement as he tapped his hand in the cold water before straightening up again as he then reached down to grab the hem of his sweater. He grabbed a fistful in his hands before dragging it upwards over his stomach to his chest. He bunched it up carefully then worked it over his head with his hair spilling through the neckline to tickle his skin.

Then he tossed his sweater to the floor once it was safely past his hearing aids and glasses. The cool air of the bathroom brushed past his skin sending a shiver down his back as he then ran his fingers under the gushing water of the faucet as he felt it gradually warming up. Tonight, he wanted to soak in the bath and relax. He'd been so high strung the past four weeks that he couldn't help but wonder if his back would ever untense. If he'd ever go back to the happy go lucky nature he had.

All of this was strangely riding on Shouta. On the black-haired man who was giving him the silent treatment. He ran his fingers under the faucet as the water began to heat up to which he stood up happily and curled his wet and dry fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pants. He then shoved them down his legs and let them fall to his ankles where he stepped out of them and flicked his feet out to kick it along the floor.

Bending over to work his socks off of his feet to join his clothing, he turned on his feet to rush out of the bathroom. He had a wine glass in his closet, thankfully, on top of his liquor cabinet. He was sure he still had another bottle of wine left in there. Another gift of Nemuri's, unsurprisingly. He hummed as he flew around his bed with the cool air brushing his skin. He rushed up to his closet where he threw the doors open and squatted down.

Opening the cabinet, he grabbed the bottle of wine then reached on top of the cabinet for the glass. He then stood up and made his way around the bed once more with the cats following his movements. He entered the bathroom once more where he eased it halfway shut; just enough to keep him out of view and to give him a somewhat awkward view into his room. Just in case his sons came knocking, he'd hear it. He then padded across the floor to the tub and the gushing faucet.

He set the bottle and cup on the top of the closed toilet seat where he squatted down before the tub. Running his fingers under the water then reached for his plug as he fussed with the temperature. He didn't want a scalding bath; just something to relax him before he turned in for the night. He plugged the drain up as he then stood up once again to turn to the sink where he reached beneath it for his bath salts. Tonight felt like a lavender night.

He grabbed the bag of salts that felt suspiciously light and he made a mental note to grab another bag when he was at the store. He opened the bag up then began to sprinkle the salts into the tub as it filled up. He inhaled the lavender scent as he closed the bag up and returned it to its place under the sink. Shutting the cabinets with a thud as he then turned to the tub as he watched it fill up. A light steam rolling off of the water as he dipped his hand in to swirl lazily through it.

Already the salts were melting into the water leaving it with that calming lavender scent. He hummed as he turned the water off with a squeak of the handle. He then turned his attention to the wine as he tore the wrapping off from around the cap then twisted it off. Pouring himself a glass of rich red liquid before he capped it once more and he turned to the tub. Climbing in, the hot water lapped at his shin lightly as he shivered as his left foot came over the lip of the tub to join his right.

And he spun on his feet, water sloshing gently and he sank down quickly with a shiver running up his back as he sank into the lovely scented water. He could feel the dissolving grains beneath him but he didn't mind it one damn bit. He sank down, down, down with the ends of his hair swimming in the water as he sank to his chest. Rubbing his hands over his upper arms and shoulders to warm himself as he shivered again; he wasn't aware he'd been so cold.

Even with his jeans and sweater, he'd been cold. It felt nice. Ohhh, it was nice. Unbelievably so to sink into the hot water that lapped gently at his skin; encased his body to soak into his tense muscles. Working away the aches that had been plaguing him since he took a spill on his front walkway. He'd been sanding it, ironically enough, with the salts to melt away the ice when he hit a patch that sent him to the ground.

He'd been aching ever since his accident out there and the hot water was the perfect remedy on his aching body. He ran the water over his upper arms and shoulders against as his hair floated in the water. Pressing against the wall with a long sigh flying out of him, he couldn't deny how good it felt. He really needed to start taking more baths. There was nothing more comforting than sinking into the hot water. Like he was washing the past handful weeks off of him.

It was going on four weeks now; did he break the silence? Did he text? Offer an olive branch? He had not a clue what to do about the situation with Shouta. He sighed out again with his lashes raising up as he reached up to slide his glasses off of his nose when he noticed the steam fogging them up. He folded them up and placed them on the closed toilet seat with the wine. Water sloshing, dripping to the floor, he then grabbed his glass carefully and lifted it up to take a large sip of the wine.

It ran down his throat wiht that familiar scratch as he took another sip before setting it on the edge of the tub where it balanced out. He sank back into the water with his lashes fluttering down as he sank down to his chin with his hair floating through the water like golden tendrils. He didn't know what he was going to do about the situation with Shouta but he knew he couldn't let it go on much longer. He can't. Curling his arms over his stomach, he kneaded at his sides beneath the water gently.

It lapped just below his lip lightly when he straightened up slightly to avoid letting his ears get too close to the water. He hadn't taken his hearing aids out and he didn't want too just on the off-chance that one of his sons came looking for him. He shivered at the cool air attacking his wet skin as he slid his hands up to splash water over his chest. His shoulders and upper arms. God, the hot water felt absolutely wonderful. He wished it could wash the weeks of stress and sadness off of him.

He wished it could somehow wash away the hurting ache in the center of his chest. There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to wash off the past handful of weeks to feel better. To feel like himself again. He didn't like that he was hanging on to the hope that Shouta would message him. Wished he didn't squeeze and hold his phone at night like it was a life preserver. As if somehow his thoughts could somehow manifest the text he was waiting for.

All he wanted was to see Shouta again. All he wanted was to talk to him again. If he could explain it over the phone, if he could explain it face to face, then he was sure that somehow, he could explain the picture that Nemuri had taken. That somehow, someway, he could fix whatever this issue was. That he could soothe away whatever jealousy the black-haired man felt. But the silence was something that stretched onwards. One day slipping by at a time until weeks were fluttering by him.

How unfair it was that time could continue onwards when his heart was aching. When he was feeling more and more like a desperate mess waiting for Shouta to call him. Waiting for Shouta to so much as text him. He felt like a lovesick teenager. He felt like he was, somehow and someway, acting like he felt during his first real relationship. And this wasn't even a relationship! He hadn't even confessed! And yet he felt he was acting the part of a guilt ridden lover who was being ignored by his boyfriend.

It felt absolutely awful to feel that way. It didn't help that Nemuri was checking in on everything and he felt her regret through her texts. Through her phone calls. Hell, Shouta wasn't even talking to her or to Oboro it seemed as the black-haired man ignored their attempts to reach out. Just what was going through that man's head? What was he thinking so hard about that he would ignore the three of them? Was it truly just a situation based in jealousy?

Was it just Shouta feeling jealous and then feeling guilty for not answering anyone? For not reaching out to him sooner? What was going on in Shouta's head? He can't understand it. He can't piece it together. There was something about it that he simply wasn't understanding in the slightest bit. He didn't know what Shouta's goal could be or his reasoning. He thought he knew Shouta but this was proving that he truly didn't.

After all, how could Shouta effectively ghost him after six months of friendship? How could he admit that he was jealous and then say nothing afterwards? He liked to believe he had been giving Shouta all the space in the world. All the space for him to be comfortable and to think on his own about his admission. Was he to give it longer? Was he supposed to wait longer? He wished he knew what to expect from this. He wished he knew the ending of all of this.

And here he was, prepared to confess to the black-haired man. He was ready. He didn't want to hold onto this crush any longer. He didn't want to deny it a moment longer. And then, somehow, this happened. Another bump in the road. Hell, he didn't think he even did this when he'd been upset with Shouta after their first kiss. Had it been six days? Six days he ignored Shouta while he gathered his thoughts together so he knew what to say?

He couldn't remember properly but he knew that Shouta was a complex man but when was enough going to be enough? When were they going to call for the white flag? When was he going to hear that deep voice again? When would he be able to admire the closeness, they had? When would he be able to explain himself? He wanted nothing more than to explain himself to the black-haired man the best that he could but he couldn't do that when the man was ignoring him.

But was he being ignored? Ever since his final 'okay' to the black-haired man, he hadn't sent a single text. Oh, he'd had the chat open plenty of times to stare at his final response long enough to ache. Long enough to feel that heavy weight in his chest. There was nothing he wanted more than to send a text to the black-haired man. There were moments when he wanted to call him even if he'd get his voice mail. He felt like a lovesick fool who had done something wrong.

He'd been reckless with his own heart that ached in his chest like a heavy weight that refused to break. Had he taken too long? Was it too late? Would Shouta even hear him out when he finally broke the silence? Or would he be left alone with feelings that would throb in his chest and leave him breathless? Would he be left alone? It had his lip trembling briefly before he bit down fiercely on it to stop the action as his lashes trembled on his cheeks.

He took a slow breath that brought that lavender scent down into his lungs before he let it out slowly. Focus on the heat of the bath. Focus on the scent of the salts. He didn't want to think about Shouta but this new turn of events had him trying to piece this together. Trying to understand the black-haired man and what he was thinking but at the end he knew the reality. He didn't understand. He didn't know what Shouta was thinking.

He didn't understand a damn thing about Shouta's sudden confession of jealousy and he didn't understand why he was being ghosted. He simply didn't understand anything, it seemed. And he hated. He hated, hated, hated it. He was left here, waiting for something from the black-haired man. Waiting for something that most likely wouldn't come. But what did he do about it? What did he say to Shouta if he texted? Did he send a simple "Hey"? Or did he question his jealousy first?

Did he ask if he was okay? He had not a clue what he was going to do but he wanted to break the silence. He didn't know how he was going to do it but was enough finally enough? They were going on four weeks. Four. And it had his chest aching at the realization that he'd let it drag on so long. But Shouta had asked for space. He'd drawn a boundary line and he was scared to so much as toe the line. Scared to so much as to breathe on that line. Was it wrong of him to do so?

Was it wrong of him to think of texting him? To think of calling him? Or was it okay for him to think about it so long as he didn't do it? But what if he wanted to do it? What if he wanted to do it so bad his chest ached at the thought of possibly hearing about him? How many nights did he want to cry over this? How many nights did he want to feel his chest caving in on itself with worry? How many meals would he skip for the sake of working to keep his mind off of this man that he didn't understand?

How could he be so reckless with his own heart? How could he be so callous with himself? And how could he have let himself be cuddled up to Nemuri that way? He knew it was all something they needed to speak about. That he couldn't go on blaming himself. Gaslighting himself about the innocence of the picture because that's what it was, wasn't it? An innocent picture. How many times had he been cuddled to her breast and never thought twice about it?

How many nights had he laid his head on her chest? How many nights had he let Oboro and Nemuri cuddle close? So many. And he never saw anything wrong with it until now. Was there something wrong with it? Was there something so wrong that he had missed it? Had something normal finally been shown not to be normal? Because he knew he wanted to pursue a relationship with Shouta and that meant things like these needed to be discussed.

If things like that picture were deemed inappropriate by Shouta then he would do his best to avoid situations like that. He would do his best to avoid doing things like that. But Shouta needed to talk to him about it. He needed to know that what he did wasn't right and then he could fix it. He'd offered to fix it, whatever was going on, but Shouta had all but denied him the chance to do so at the moment. Denying until all there was left to say was that final 'okay' from himself.

Sighing out quietly to himself, he opened his eyes as he then lifted his hands out of the water with a splash as he grabbed onto his glass. Lifting it up with both hands, he gulped at his wine which wouldn't do much to help him sobriety wise but he didn't care. So what if he got a bit wine tipsy tonight? There was nothing that he needed to get done. He'd been too meticulous. He'd been too keen on keeping himself busy to avoid thinking about Shouta.

Drained his glass rather quickly with a shiver as he then placed the glass down and reached for the bottle. Twisting his torso awkwardly, he grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off then carefully poured himself another glass. He capped the bottle again then placed it back in its place on the closed toilet seat. He then lifted his glass up to take a gulping sip at the wine before placing it back on the ledge as he sank back into the water. He was drowning under these insecurities of his.

These worries. How can one man get so deep under his skin that it felt impossible to get him out? That the man was the first thing on his mind in the morning to the last thing at night? It was pathetic. He knew he was acting like the forlorn lover but what else was there to feel? He had messed somehow and he wanted nothing more than to fix it but Shouta wasn't letting him. He wasn't letting him explain. Shouta had drawn a hard boundary; to be left alone while he thinks.

Thinks about what, he had not a clue but the past three weeks had been eye-opening in ways he hadn't expected. Not only had the depth of his feelings been explored but he realized how dependent he'd become on the man. How deep his crush went. How, at the end of the day, he didn't know Shouta as well as he thought he did. He really didn't understand the black-haired man. He didn't understand his thought process. And what was worse? He wants too. God, he wants to understand Shouta.

He wants to know him better. He wants to understand Shouta's thought process. He wants to understand it all so badly that he felt half crazed. He wants to understand this man who was still, somehow, an enigma to him. This man who he had such heavy feelings for. Leaning his head back against the shower wall, wet locks of hair clinging to his damp skin, he sighed out quietly to himself as the water sloshed around him. It truly was heaven on his aching hip and thighs.

Against his stomach and beneath his chest where it lapped at him gently. It felt nice. Unbelievably nice to just sit in the bath with the warmth of the wine coursing through him. The warmth of the warm soaking into his skin to soothe his aching muscles as he moved his hands weakly wash the water over his chest when his hands paused. If he wasn't so sure of it - he was half convinced if he didn't know otherwise - he would think it was a cop out.

That him being transgender might be the key factor in this all. He knew it wasn't but if he'd been more insecure, if he'd been more hurt, is that what he would have thought? He knew Shouta would never do something like that but did he know that? Did he know Shouta was well as he believed he did? How well can he know one man after six months? Groaning quietly to himself, he rolled his head over the shower wall and lifted his hands out of the water again to grab his cup securely then lifting it up.

Taking a large sip of his wine, he tried his best not to think. Not to focus on it but it was hard. He'd rather be soaking in the bath, trying to forget rather than lying in bed clutching at his phone pitifully before going to sleep. He'd rather be the smallest bit tipsy when he went to bed rather than tossing and turning until he was so exhausted he was out like a light. He took another sip of his wine before putting it back down where he noted the sloshing liquid at just a little under halfway.

He was drinking too fast. He would ruin his bath if he wasn't careful with it. After all, hot baths and wine did make him sleepy. The lavender was already doing wonders to make sure that he was growing relaxed. He sank down in the water again with his feet touching the other side of the tub. Pressing into the shower wall as his knees arched up to peek out of the water as he sank down in the water. It rushed over his chest, lapping at his throat, as his hair floated in the water again.

How long was he going to obsess over one man? Sure, he'd had his plans to confess to Shouta but it felt like so much of him was wrapped up in this other man. And what if Shouta decided to reject him anyways? What if Shouta didn't feel the same? What if he didn't feel the thrum of that romantic tension? Of that gravity of attraction between them? What if he didn't feel that same desire? That same lust? It had him sighing out quietly to himself with a tremble that had him biting at his lip before it could wobble again.

He swallowed around the knot of emotion in his throat but he knew he was right. What if Shouta didn't feel the same way as him? Did Shouta somehow know that and that's why he asked for space? But he was jealous so surely, he felt something for him yet it was in the air just what those feelings were. He shut his eyes to cut off the blurry sight before him as the water lapped at his tight throat gently. Love felt too strong a word to describe his emotions. Like too weak. So, what did he feel?

He wanted Shouta. He wants him badly. But did that mean the emotion went both ways? Shouta could be putting space between them to keep that crush at bay. At the end of the day, he didn't know the man's reasons. He didn't understand them. And as badly as he wants to understand, he can't until he got to know Shouta better. And that was all in Shouta's court whether they grew closer together or not. A friendship needed both parties to be interested in feeding and growing that friendship.

It couldn't just be one sided. Just like this crush. He felt it was one-sided but did he know that for certain? He wanted to slam his head against the wall to get these thoughts out of his head but he knew it would do nothing but give him a migraine. He'd already cracked his head on the cement outside and hurt his hip, he didn't want to do more damage. He could be a man and text Shouta. He could break the silence. He had that power, that choice, and whether Shouta answered or not was in the black-haired man's court.

He just needed to do something. After all, how long did this man expected him to wait around for him? Sure, his crush had grown in an alarming way but he wished Shouta would set him free if that was the goal. It might take him time to get over it but if he stopped being friends with Shouta would it fade away? Would he find someone else to crush on? Sighing out again, he opened his eyes when he glanced over instinctively at the pinging of his phone. A text? Or a notification?

If it was a notification then what app was it for? He blinked as he shifted beneath the water slightly with his head resting back against the wall. He eyed his half-drunk glass of wine. He wanted to linger in the bath a bit longer even if the heat was evaporating. The water growing slightly cool around him; no longer the heat it had been when he slipped into the bath. It had him frowning slightly as he shifted then swirled his hands under the water experimentally.

Brushing his hands up against his chest lightly to trace out the shapes of his mastectomy scars. Over the rim of his areolas and then flicking lightly at his nipples. Tugging at the jewelry that ran through them before dropping his hands to his thighs. He didn't feel like masturbating yet touching his thighs, his chest, were giving his hands something to do. He traced shapes over his thighs with swirling designs as the water sloshed around his shoulders as he let his hands curve up out of the water.

Rubbing over his knees before sliding down his thighs again as he shifted under the cooling water. He'd have to get out soon but he felt so warm. His cheeks felt flushed from the warmth of either the wine or the bath, he had not a clue which it could be but he was relaxed. His muscles felt relaxed for the first time in such a long time. His head may be swarming but at least physically he felt relaxed. Then his phone was pining again, then again, and again. Rapid notifications that told him it was texts.

He frowned slightly as he then sighed before shifting under the water as he sat up straight once more. He'd done so much thinking he'd hardly appreciated his hot bath and now it was cooling faster than he liked to admit. He shifted with his hands leaving the water as he grabbed his wine glass and lifted it up. Draining the cup in three gulps, he placed the cup on the closed toilet seat lid with the bottle as he shifted out of the water before pushing himself up to his feet.

He stumbled slightly as his head spun weakly and he closed his eyes tightly to help himself from toppling forward. Or falling back. He opened his eyes when the world stayed right where it was meant and he bent over to unplug the tub before reaching out to put his hand on the wall. Stepping out of the bath one foot at a time, water sloshing and splattering onto the bath mat as he shuffled forward to reach under the sink.

Wrapping a towel around his waist before grabbing his glasses in their place next to the wine bottle. Slipping them back on, he sighed out quietly to himself when his phone pinged a fourth time to which he shuffled forward and grabbed the door. Coaxing it open with a light squeak of the hinges, he shivered at the cool air brushing over his wet skin. He needed to dry off and get in some pajamas. Walking past the big bed of his where his phone sat, screen glowing with the notifications.

He walked past it without glancing at it. He didn't want to hope. God, he doesn't want to hope. He walked over to his dresser where he opened the left middle drawer and grabbing the first pieces of clothing his hands touched. Placing them on the surface of the dresser, he unwrapped his towel from around his waist to work on drying his legs quickly but thoroughly. His hips, stomach, and back. The ends of his hair that clung to his skin wetly. His chest and throat.

He patted himself dry before grabbing the thin camisole shirt from the dresser and tugged it on. The thin material clung to his damp skin but he fought with it even as it tried to roll up on him which he fought against as he tugged it into place. He opened the top left drawer to grab a pair of boxers which he bent over to step into. His skin had the scent of lavender clinging to it; much like his hair and it was calming. It was nice that it lingered so potently on his skin. His hair.

Tugging his boxers up to his hips, he then reached out for the dark gray sweat pants he'd grabbed in his blind touches. It didn't go with the camisole he wore but what did he care? It's not like anyone was going to see him like this. He took a deep, slow breath that had his chest expanding out then fluttering down as he let it out. He stepped into his sweat pants, tugging them up his legs with the tight cuffs hugging his ankles as he tugged it up to his hips. The waistband hugging his waist tightly.

He then turned on his feet as he took another deep breath to approach his phone on the bed. He sat on the edge with a protesting meow from the cat behind him but he reached for his phone as the soft thud of paws hitting the floor rang out as he unlocked his screen to find a flurry of texts from Nemuri. Nemuri? It had been a while since she texted and it was odd she was texting him now. Well, perhaps not odd. He didn't expect her to blow his phone up like this, he should probably say. It'd been a while since she had.

Nem-Nem: Zashi! I just wanted to check in on you and see how you're doing

Nem-Nem: I want to make sure that you're okay, you know?

Nem-Nem: Because I still feel guilty about that picture I mean, I thought it'd be a cute snapchat post but I guess not because it's completely broken your heart and hurt you. That's the LAST thing I ever intended to happen and I want to make sure you're okay

Nem-Nem: I should let you know that we've actually heard back from Shouta! Weird as that was but Shouta said he was fine, everything was okay, and that he was doing alright! He was weird with his writing though if you know what I mean? Like it seemed super formal

Nem-Nem: Oh! Oh my God, off topic, but have you looked at Insta? Do you follow Shouta on Instagram? He just posted a picture and

Nem-Nem: Zashi, you gotta answer me if you're awake! Because oh my god if this picture isn't something we need to talk about!

Zashi-chan: What picture? I don't follow him on Insta but I've never actually thought to look him up before, you know? But what picture are you talking about, babes?

Nem-Nem: It's

Nem-Nem: Here, do you want me to just send it to you? It'll be faster to just show it to you, you know? And I want to apologize in advance for this, Zashi, because this is going to HURT if you choose to see it.

Zashi-chan: Why would it hurt? Nem, what is so bad about this picture that it's got you practically foaming at the mouth while also being worried about me? Isn't it a picture of, like his cats or something? It seems like something he would post to Insta, honestly. I mean I do it all the time!

Nem-Nem: I can safely say that it's def not a picture of his cats. Tell me, do you really wanna see this, Zashi? 😟

Zashi-chan: I want to see it, Nem. Just send it, okay? Whatever it is I'm sure that I'm going to be fine and if I'm not then oh well. After all, like I said what's so bad about this picture that it's got you bugging about it? Honestly the more you warn me about it the more curious that I feel about it. I DEFINITELY want to see it, Nem, so send it, yeah?

Nem-Nem: You'll see and I apologize in advance, I really, really do but I felt like maybe you should see this, you know? But I promise that I am not showing this to make you mad at Sho or to hurt you in the slightest bit!

Nem-Nem: I just

Nem-Nem: Well, here. I'll let you be the judge of it 😟

Nem-Nem: [ sent]

Tapping on the picture, the small circle loading in the middle of his screen rolled once, twice before the picture loaded up. And it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. It felt like his heart had been grabbed by a fist and squeezed. Dropping out of his chest to the pit of his stomach. It was a picture that, if looked at quickly, could be deemed as something innocent. A picture of friends being silly together. In fact, it was a picture he'd definitely take with Nemuri. Something casual.

And yet the longer he stared at the picture on his screen, his mind struggling to catch up, he found his teeth gnashing together. The heartbreak of the picture broke away into something hot. Something boiling in his veins. Something that seared him to the core that, in the weeks of longing and heartache, left him flushed. The picture was simple, that much could be gleamed from it but it had him squeezing the device in his hand tightly.

In the picture was Shouta sitting on his leather couch with black curls tousled carelessly with a glass of wine his hand. The sight of his face would have blown him away any other time with that half-formed, careless smile on his lips that was empty. It didn't translate to his dark eyes that stared directly into the camera. Into him. It was a put on smile that twisted his stomach but it was the woman that was with him that had him gasping in his breath slightly.

Shaking on its way down with the emotions twisting into him as he held it down in his chest. Emi was wearing a skirt that rode up her thighs to expose more of them as her legs stretched across Shouta's lap. Her hand on his black curls with two fingers popping up in a peace sign. A playful pout on her lips, a flush to her cheeks, as she held a wine glass in her other hand as she curled close to Shouta. A low, scoop neckline sweater on that showed off her breasts slightly.

That blush coloring her throat and color bones slightly. Her own sea-green locks tussled slightly as she pouted at the camera. A hand resting on her knee. Shouta's hand. On her knee. There was perhaps something innocent about it had it been from a more party-themed Instagram account. Maybe, if he suspected, Shouta had pictures like it there would be something innocent about it. Something sweet. Again, it was a picture that he would more than likely take with Nemuri. Or even Oboro.

But the sight of Emi sprawled out in his lap in a short skirt and low neckline sweater set his blood aflame. Had his jaw clenching as his teeth gnashed together at the casual way she touched those dark curls. Curls he'd been dying to twist his hands into. Curls that he had admired for months. The way Shouta was staring so boldly into the camera was an unmistakable taunt. Something that was meant to be seen. As if Shouta were staring straight at him while Emi's pouting gaze was focused off camera.

As if she were pouting at the person holding the camera. If anything, it was a bit flirtatious but the way she was touching Shouta, the way she was leaning into him, set his blood flame. He found it hard to unclench his jaw as his teeth gnashed together fiercely with his hands trembling as he felt that fury, that rage, fueling his chest. For the first time in weeks instead of heartbroken, instead of forlorn, he was angry. He was furious. It honestly felt good to feel so angry at something like this.

Here he was wasting his time feeling like a kicked puppy, like a broken hearted love sick fool, and Shouta was doing this? Here he was, like the cast out friend waiting for the hammer to drop and Shouta was out there living his best life? Was out there acting all cozy with Emi Fukukado? Did he need to know who the camera man was? Did he need to know the context behind it? No. No, he did not. He was enraged. Angry. He felt half out of his mind because here he was upset, broken hearted, and this?

This was something that was clearly aimed at him. Now, that in itself might be egotistic to assume but the way Shouta looked into the camera spoke volumes. After all, Shouta could do what he liked. He could be with who he liked. But the fact that he chose Emi of all people was like rubbing salt into an open wound. He can't control Shouta. He has no claim on him. But how could this be something that wasn't aimed at him? It was nothing, nothing like the picture Nemuri took.

They'd been properly dressed. Fuck, they'd been sleeping for God's sake! But this? This was something that set his blood aflame with that old jealousy rearing its ugly head at the casual way she stretched her legs across Shouta's lap. The casual way she touched those black curls with her chest angled forward slightly. The pout on her lips that was just a bit flirtatious. It all had his head spinning from the rage he felt boiling under his skin as his jaw unclenched as he gasped in a breath.

Was he a fool? Was he an idiot? If Shouta was trying to prove a point, he had done it but what was the cost? He was enraged. He felt ready to slam his fists into the wall just to relieve the anger. For the first time in their friendship, he was angry with the black-haired man. He was furious. It was nothing like the heartache he felt after their first kiss. It was nothing like that awkward time after Halloween when Shouta had tried to kiss him and that damn cricket had scared him.

Oh, it was amazing how good it felt to be angry. To let himself feel furious over the situation that he found himself in. Nemuri had worried that this would break his heart but it only served to make him madder than he ever remembered being. He wasn't going to be treated like a game. He wasn't going to be treated like he was worth a taunting picture. He wasn't going to let this fly. Not by a long shot. He may not have any hold on Shouta, any romantic claims, but goddammit, he wasn't letting this fly.

He felt his hands shaking as he exited out of his texts with Nemuri to tap on Shouta's. His thumbs tapped on the bar bringing up his keyboard as his thumbs hesitated but the anger pushed him forward. The anger that bubbled inside of him restlessly leaving him breathless as he slowly but surely typed out each word without using any swears. Any aggressive words. It took monumental control but he kept it simple. Easy. But he tried to make it sound as menacing as he possibly could as his hands trembled.

Hizashi: We need to talk, Shouta Aizawa.