#toxiwrites

There’s no sneering from his opponent- or any congratulations for a good and well game. Even if the game wasn’t well, even if Hizashi had just stood there, panicking as he realized his voice didn’t echo and peak like it should, that without his quirk he was helpless and just some highschool kid yelling as the other advanced and took him out with brute force, knocking him over.

The man- can he call him that? It doesn’t seem right to call him a boy when he seems so far. Maybe he should use his name. Aizawa doesn’t deliver a speech or a snide comment, there’s no cold metallic sting that comes with Hizashi’s loss. When his whirling, reflecting, reverberating- ringing eyes focus back in on Aizawa, he has a hand out.

Ah.

When Hizashi reaches out to take it, he can’t tell if it’s his concussed brain being dramatic, but everything else goes black. Sound, too. He doesn’t hear the crowd cheering or booing or even hushed, whispering. He doesn’t even hear the silence of the nosebleeds. He doesn’t hear the quiet, because there is quiet. Full, blanketing, lofty quiet.

The black doesn’t stay black for long. Like white paint dripped into murky water, brightness bursts outwards, shining fireworks that seem to lead back to Aizawa, a scintillating halo surrounding the black-haired classmate.

When their palms brush and their hands connect, Hizashi feels the current and he wants to stay there forever, scratched and bruised with his skinned elbows and crumpled yuuei uniform- because he feels warm and his chest is tight and he feels sick and empty and full all at once and he wants to throw up on the paved concrete in the worst and best way possible.

Though, he has to let go of shooting stars eventually, which is what he does when he lets Aizawa help pull him up.

“That was- that was really good. You were really good- amazing, actually. You’re amazing, Aizawa,” Hizashi blurts, his overlarge mouth getting the best of him again.

The black sky and its fireworks fade and dissipate, disperse away. Sound comes back to him, and it pierces his ears. The crowd, the announcer; yelling into the mic about his defeat, the birds outside the stadium, the clouds moving across the azure- Hizashi hears it all, and it’s too much, but it doesn’t matter, because Aizawa is opening his mouth and he’s talking, he’s responding to him.

“You were good too.”

And that’s how I met your father, kids.

Aizawa’s façade of cool leaves when he speaks those words. He’s no longer the closed off new kid in their class who had firmly rejected Hizashi’s advances of friendship when he had reached- put his hand out to Aizawa just like he just had seconds ago to Hizashi and declared loudly ‘Let’s be friends!’ with a cold ‘no.’ and moved his table further away. He seems almost embarrassed or shy to speak.

Hizashi barely has time to process that he just fell in love with the tsundere on the block after being made to eat concrete in front of the entirety of yuuei before he has to leave the stadium, leave Aizawa, leave the moon and its stars.

-

“Please be my friend.”

“Why.”

Hizashi blinks. That’s.. not a ‘no.’ Not the same answer he’d gotten day after day as he’d bug Aizawa before class every single morning after the sports festival. Tensei called him crazy- why would Aizawa decide that because he made Hizashi bite the curb he’d want to be friends with him? But mamma ain’t raise no quitter, and Hizashi wouldn’t give up until Aizawa would undoubtedly be his best friend forever and ever- and maybe they’d move in together and get 15 animals of Aizawa’s preference. Unless they were bugs. And Hizashi would continue to keep his crush secret until the grave. The end.

“You- what?”

“I’m asking you why,” Aizawa says, looking somehow more tired than usual, “why do you want to be friends?”

Hizashi gawks at him. Because you’re amazing and skilled, and I also might have a really gay crush on you, and I know somewhere deep down in that wretched black emo heart there’s some secret soft thing you like. Like bunnies. And I need to find that and never let you hear the end of it.

Instead of all of that, Hizashi says, “Because you beat me.”

“So you want to be friends.. to try and overcome me?”

No.

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“What?” Hizashi needs someone to pinch him. No, punch him. Run him over with a steamroller. This isn’t real.

eermmm . poll time should i post this on ao3 as a oneshot / abandoned wip or write more sigh

The blonde in question was holding a bouquet of wildflowers that had clearly been gathered by hand by himself from how the ends of each stem were a little crushed and uneven. The bouquet consisted of daisies, violets, narcissuses, Japanese primrose, and 4 he didn’t recognize; a bright yellow flower with 6 petals and a fan of thinner leaves in a similar, flatter arrangement under the blossom like a frilly collar, a pink- almost heart-shaped flower with its 5 petals tending upwards where white seeped into the tips, a magenta plant with 5 petal-like sepals surrounding its ring of cup-like nectaries, and a beautiful vibrantly purple blossom, its 6 petals turning upwards slightly.

The bouquet had been clumsily tied together with a ribbon, which had begun to slip. In Yamada’s other hand he held a- as Shouta speculated- home-made cupcake, a chocolate heart sitting on the pink frosting messily piped on top of its chocolate base, wrapped in a tacky hot-pink paper wrapper with red and white hearts printed all over it.

It wasn’t much, but something in Shouta appreciated the fact that Yamada hadn’t 1) tried to earn his attention with expensive items and 2) decided to, hopefully, put a little more time and effort into the gifts than simply running to the nearest store and grabbing a heart-shaped box of chocolates from the clearance, and the same ¥5,000 dozen of roses he’d seen around the school 6 times today already.

“Ehh?! C’mon, Eraser, do I look like I’d ask someone out on a dare?” Yamada’s voice seemed to lack its usual obnoxious volume and carefree enthusiasm, a flush creeping up to the tips of his ears as he grinned.. nervously? His shades were crooked, elliptical pupils blown out a little more than usual as he shifted the gifts to one hand to rub the back of his neck. “I know this is kind of sudden, but it’s valentines day, sho! And so I thought- why not just go for it, yaknow? I mean, you’re cool, I’m cool- well, you’re more ‘stoic, standoffish, mysterious cool’ and I’m more ‘popular, awesome, rockstar cool’— but we still fit, right?” Yamada seemed to brace himself for rejection the way his grin drooped a little at the corners.

“You ramble when you’re nervous. You’re nervous,” Shouta said bluntly.

Yamada sputtered, “Whaat? Me? Nervous? Pssh. Nah!” He waved a hand dismissively, but his laugh was forced, too sudden and too loud. He rubbed his thumb absentmindedly against the wrapper of the cupcake, other hand fiddling with the ribbon of the bouquet before he held it out to Shouta, wiggling it slightly as if that would convince him to accept. “So, what’s the answer, Eraser? Don’t leave me hanging!”

Shouta paused, the silence stretching between them. Yamada’s façade cracked, then broke when his smile dropped to a sadder, slight one. He opened his mouth to begin to speak, “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t like me back, friends is totally fine-”

“..Fine.” Shouta mumbled quickly before Yamada could ramble even more, taking the bouquet of common wildflowers, holding them up to his face to try and cover his blush, but the smell of them reminded him of the stupid cologne Yamada always wore and it made the pink tint worse. So he grabbed the cupcake as well and stuffed his face with it so he wouldn’t have to say anything else.

Yamada blinked blankly. The quiet before the storm, before-

“Whaaaaaa?! Wait, for real?!” Yamada screamed so loud Shouta had to cover his ears, birds flew out of a tree nearby, squawking, students turned to look at him from across the campus, and a window two floors up shattered.

“Yes, now be quiet before-”

“Wait. Sho.. are you blushing?” Yamada’s grin was back, this time in full, genuine force, shades slipping down his nosebridge as he leaned forward slightly, revealing the glint in his evil eyes. Yup. Mischievous, fucked-up, pure evil eyes. Definitely not a mesmerizing emerald, with his orbiting pupils that made Shouta question if he was sinking or swimming when he looked into them too hard. “Aw, dude, you like me back! This isn’t a pity valentine after all, huh?”

Before Yamada could open his mouth and spout more bullshit for the entirety of yuuei to hear, Shouta shot his capture weapon forward, the cloth wrapping around his head 3 times, binding around Yamada’s mouth to stop him from speaking until he finished his cupcake and got his bearings. Which could take a minute. Or two. Or ten, if Yamada kept staring at him like that.

Yamada’s arms flailed and he quickly tried prying away his restraints as his shoulders began to shake. At first, it looked like he was struggling, before it became clear he was cackling behind the cloth.

“If you don’t stop laughing and bug me in the future about me liking you, I’m going to take back my ‘yes’.”

Yamada froze. He tried speaking, but it came out in muffled cries, so he settled for frantically waving his hands. Sure, the teasing was funny, but it was not worth losing his hard-earned victory over. He quickly pressed his palms together in a pleading gesture, giving Shouta his best pathetic puppy dog eyes.

Shouta chewed the last of the cupcake before swallowing, loosening the cloth, and pulling it away for it to settle back around his neck.

“Okay, okay! Got it, boss,” Yamada mock saluted, still smiling, but less smug and more.. soft. Shouta did not like how his heart reacted to the expression. “no more bugging, no more laughing, you’re my awesome, super stoic valentine. Off to our date!”

“Where is our date, exactly?” Shouta hummed, throwing the wrapper of his cupcake into the nearest compost bin. Wow, handsome, cool and composted? Yamada was sold. This was his husband.

“A cat café of course!” Yamada chirped confidently, puffing his chest out proudly.

Shouta blinked. “Marry me.”

Yamada spluttered, face and ears blooming as pink as Sakura blossoms. “W-What?! I mean- yeah, of course. I’ll totally marry you!” His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he pulled Shouta into a loose, warm hug. “Man.. I really like you, y’know that?” Yamada tilted his head to the side, his smile smaller, but more genuine, again, with that soft look in his green eyes- glinting in the sun from behind his ridiculous sunglasses.

“..I like you too,” Shouta muttered.

Yamada, despite landing a date with the other, on his way to said date, choked nonetheless, managing a weak, “Right, yeah, of course. You’re my valentine after all.” Shouta noticed the wobble in his smile, and the tremble in his voice. Cute.

.

“Thanks for today, Yamada-”

“Hizashi.”

“What?”

“Call- I mean- call me Hizashi. Since.. you know. We went on a date, and all.”

“Oh, right. You can call me Shouta, then.” Shouta cleared his throat. “Thanks for today, Hizashi,” he repeated, pulling Hizashi in for a hug. Aizawa Shouta initiated the hug. Holy shit. Before Hizashi could break the sound barrier, Shouta pulled away and then their lips were pressed together.

Hizashi stilled in shock before kissing back. Shouta’s lips were dry and a little chapped, but it was to be expected during this season. Being the inexperienced highschoolers they were, it was a little clumsy, but it was warm, and perfect in Hizashi’s opinion. As they shifted slightly, Shouta’s hands ended up on his sides and he shivered, moving as well- their noses bumping together as Hizashi pulled away with a sheepish laugh. His shades were askew, a truly lovesick expression on his face.

He buried his face in his hands, peeking through the gaps of his fingers, grinning like an idiot. Not that he’d stopped grinning even once during the whole date. “..You really do like me.” His voice was soft, slightly hoarse and breathy, almost disbelieving. Still, it was filled with so much warmth Shouta felt like he’d just skipped to June.

“I do.” Shouta felt odd, something bubbling in his throat up to the tip of his tongue. He held it back. It felt dangerous somehow. Too early. He swallowed it back down.

Hizashi melted all over again. “Can.. does this mean- you- can I call you my boyfriend now?”

Sunlight filtered through the foliage, forming komorebi on the two. Gold on gold, gold on silver. Gold on gold with silver. Gold with silver, melting melding together into one metal, one thing, into one. Hizashi’s verdant, swirling, looping eyes peered into Shouta’s dusky ones.

      “Toasting it?” he says simply. He has the slice of bread on the countertop, leaning so that his left hand presses into it. It smokes for a second before he pulls his arm away and lifts it up, a perfect toasted imprint of Shouto’s hand on the slice. Shouto waves it in front of Katsuki like he can’t fucking see it.

      Katsuki’s eye twitches. “Why would you do it like that. There’s a toaster right next to you.”

      “More efficient,” Shouto says as he stuffs his face with the abomination Katsuki refuses to call toast.

      “There’s pieces of it raw.”

      “Bread can’t be raw. It’s already been cooked. Toast is just double cooked dough.”

      Katsuki holds his tongue where a Do you mean ‘baked’ you culinarily incompetent Japanese flag wannabe threatens to bubble over the peak.

      “Please don’t tell me that’s your fucking breakfast,” Katsuki settles for instead. He feels a migraine coming on. The reason he’s in the communal kitchen at 4:50am in the first place is because his boyfriend wanted to start tagging along on his morning runs, and, fucking obviously, anyone with a brain would realize you need food to go for a sprint at 5am.

      “I think you’re just mad that I make my toast faster than you,” Shouto hums smugly.

      “Oh yeah?” Katsuki’s mouth spreads into a grin despite himself. And not some freakish manic challenging grin like he’d hope it would be- it’s not sharp-toothed, more.. affectionate. God, what the hell is this candy-cane doing to him? “Watch this, halfie.”

      He grabs a piece of bread and explodes it. Sends a small explosion at it, and less than a second later, it’s toasted. Also a little fucking burnt, but who cares. That’s at least 4 seconds faster than Shouto. He eats it anyway. Carbonated portions and all.

      And doesn’t notice Shouto’s little smile as he watches him.

2

      “Hmm.. yeah, and then during strength training-” Shouto blabs on about something Katsuki would care less about if he could. He’s too occupied looking at his face anyway. What? That’s his boyfriend now, he can ogle him if he wants.

Katsuki’s tracing the slope of his jaw and softness of the baby cheeks that hadn’t fully left, glancing at his heterochromatic irises and the way his left eye never fully opens as much as his right with how the scar tissue swells around it when Shouto laughs a little, probably at something dumb he recalled while telling his story.

Now, Katsuki isn’t a shitting poet or anything, but sometimes he wishes he was so he could fully describe how beautiful his boyfriend is. How he wishes he could have that laugh in his ears forever, stroke the soft strands of his hair and mumble something writer-ly. That’s a word now, fuck you. Cascades of ice and fire sounds pretty good. Earlyroki was a damn hermit, aloof and fucking cold or downright rude sometimes. Lateroki- even if it doesn’t have as much of a ring to it- is a chatterbox, for lack of a better word. Mostly around Katsuki. Probably took advantage of the fact that the blonde didn’t tell him to shut up as much as he did to the extras.

Katsuki hums something, gaze travelling down to where their hands are tangled together when he realizes Shouto’s stride is slightly faster.

He starts speed-walking. Shouto, still in the depths of his story- something about how Deku beat that purple freak up during strength training- just subconsciously picks up pace to be side by side with him. No, don’t find that endearing, Katsuki, don’t. You have a challenge to win.

He goes faster. Shouto follows him. They’re practically running now, and Shouto is just going on and on, induced wind wafting through his pretty hair-

Katsuki reaches the dorms first. He grins, throws his arms up, declaring victory, “I win the race!”

Shouto blinks at him. Katsuki snorts, and kisses his idiotic expression off his face.

3

      They’re studying. No, not ‘studying’, like, actually studying in the library across a table from each other.

      Katsuki, peering up from above his reading glasses, which, yes, he has, and looks fucking amazing in, thank you very much- makes eye contact with Shouto who seemed to be already staring at him before he’d looked up. Shouto has the mind to look a little bit embarrassed for a second, but still being Todoroki Shouto just keeps staring blankly. Katsuki thinks he sees a little softness in his gaze. And Katsuki isn’t one to lose a staring contest, so he keeps eye contact. Crimson on grey-blue as they neglect their work, and Shouto definitely has experience with this from his blank staring at walls all day because he’s completely unfazed even when Katsuki feels his eyes begin to almost water. Shouto blinks naturally.

Triumphant, Katsuki rises from his chair, points and shouts, “Hah. Weak!”

      They get kicked out of the library.

      ( It’s the third time this month. )

4

      “Could I get level 1 spice on that?”

      Katsuki’s head shoots up. He’s out on a ramen date with Shouto, who just ordered spicy ramen. If it could even be considered that at level 1. But still. It’s 1 more level than he usually fuckin’ has.

      Wrong move, Shou Katsuki thinks to himself, and being born with fire and peppers in his veins, asks for the highest spice level they have.

      “This has a nice kick,” Shouto says as he eats his ramen. Katsuki resists the urge to take a photo of him, print it out, scrawl on the white space on the polaroid below the actual photograph ‘baby’s first spice’ and simultaneously send it to everyone he knows with a million emojis.

      “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Katsuki says instead, eating his flames in a bowl unflinchingly as Shouto, unaware of the competition they’re having, enjoys his meal, unfazed.

      Spice king. That’s me. Katsuki declares to himself as they leave the date and he kisses Shouto who snickers at the taste of peppers still on his lips.

5

      “Wow. I think that’s the first full 8 hours of sleep I’ve had in a while,” Shouto says with absolutely no inflection in his voice other than sleep as he stretches his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders back. It’s true, everyone’s been a little overworked lately, but they’re having a little break in the winter.

      Which is exactly why the next night Katsuki takes it upon himself to sleep for 9 full hours. He woke up at hour 6-and-a-half, and forced himself to go back to bed 3 times and awoke feeling like absolute shit. Still, he smirks at Shouto. “Beat you, loser.”

      Shouto, holding breakfast ( which he’d taken from Deku who’d been down cooking in the commons because he can’t cook for shit ) out to Katsuki raises a confused brow but hums and sets a plate down in front of his boyfriend, pecks him and says anyway, “You sure did.”

6

      The sun has begun to rise, and it paints Shouto in liquid gold. So much for not being a poet. But how can Katsuki not get at least a little poetic when the most beautiful person in the world is standing in front of him, when streaks of flaxen lattices sneak through tumbling clouds and melt on his argent, silver complexion and melt into rose metal?

      Shouto, panting a little from their morning run, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow, picks up his water bottle and begins to chug.

      Katsuki snorts, and picks up his own, vowing to finish his quicker. He does, even if he sputters a little and ends up with Shouto patting his back.

+1

      “You okay?” Shouto says, palm on Katsuki’s back.

      Katsuki laughs.

      “Whoa, okay, getting hysterical, that’s a bad sign, I’ll call-”

      Katsuki kisses him.

      “Love you,” he murmurs against Shouto’s lips.

      “I- I love you too,” the other says after bumbling for a second. “..I love you more.”

      “No, I love you more.”

      “Nope. Me,” Shouto shuts Katsuki up with his lips again.

      And maybe, with the sun beaming yellow down on blue and red, mixing primaries and pushing through every color, every secondary, tertiary and shade, tint there is in-between, Katsuki can stand to lose.

      Just this once.