Hitoshi Shinsou x commitment issues!reader
WARNINGS/ THEMES- (not proofread- sorry!) Hitoshi is pushy (to help reader obvs), tough love, best friends to lovers, cigarettes, panic attacks mentioned, self deprecation, mentions of being previously involved with Jirou and Tetsutetsu. (Lmk if I missed any!!)
SUMMARY- reader really struggles with commitment issues and Hitoshi uses tough love to help you get over it.
A/N- lowkey projecting here because my commitment issues are driving me insane but we ball 🥰
Also a fair amt of dialogue (I know, I hate it too)
Another long, exhaustive day in the hero course had left you feeling drained and weak in bed, only your room to accompany your thoughts. Day after day, week after week, you’ve slowly been wearing yourself down mentally over the course and longing for comfort, any comfort you can get, despite one problem.
It hurts. Wanting desperately to be in a relationship, to have someone to hold you and be loved by, but being so desperately panicked by the thought of being trapped keeping you at bay. It had caused past relationships to collapse, despite your sickening feeling at the thought of hurting them, but it was inevitable… and every single time, there was one person at your side to keep you above water, Hitoshi.
Your best friend in the business course at UA, an aspiring hero and understanding person. Doesn’t take bullshit, happy to sit in silence, nonchalant, Hitoshi.
So naturally, as you lay curled up against the headboard of your bed with a teddy clutched tightly to your chest and tears staining your rosy cheeks, the door opens to his tired face. He holds two monster cans, yours and his favourite laid in his arms as he pauses, takes in your state, and closes the door behind him without a word.
This is how it played out each time either of you would be caught in a vulnerable situation, a knowing look and swift change of mood in acknowledgement… yet, never uncomfortable. Like a silent moment of understanding.
As if practiced, you take a deep breath and wipe your tears with your sleeve as you shift over in the bed, making room as he sits purposefully beside you. He calmly hands you your can as you reach into the bedside dresser despite your trembling hands and pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, both choosing one and lighting up.
You both honour the tradition and sit silently as you ponder, taking drags of your respective cigarettes and sips of your drinks, until an unexpected noise rises.
“…so, are we gonna talk about it, or are we gonna ignore it like usual?” He speaks in his naturally low, yet smooth manner.
“Ignore it, obviously.” You respond without a beat, hiding the slight nervous energy that churns in your stomach at the sudden change in mood within the room. You’d never interrupt the silence until at least half an hour later normally, and definitely not to discuss the situation.
“You realise the point of us hanging out is that we’re comfortable with eachother, right? We don’t have to… pretend.” He mumbles, face neutral but… somehow still different.
“I am comfortable. That’s why I don’t feel like I need to talk about it, I don’t want to.” Your voice rings out bluntly once again, gaze unmoving from the sheets in front of you.
“But you should.” He retaliates, “Why don’t you want to talk about it? It’s me. You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of course I trust you, don’t be silly. It’s just a preference.” You speak with slight defensiveness, clearly offended at the thought of him believing you didn’t trust him.
You were both aware that it was more than just an excuse, despite never addressing the issue out loud to one another. It hurt him to know you weren’t open about your emotions, and he knew that in spite of the silence being what you wanted, it clearly wasn’t what you needed. He knew better than that. His gaze lands on you, deadpanned as you keep your eyes focussed in front of you.
“It’s not a preference. You avoid talking about shit because you’re scared.”
Scared. The word rang through your head like a bell, an ear splitting, wretched old squeaky bell… and without another word, your body shifted. Can discarded to the side table and cigarette held loosely between your forefingers as your head laid limply onto his shoulder.
“…so what if I am?” Your voice comes out slightly weaker than anticipated, a soft crack at the rise in octave, and this doesn’t go unnoticed. While his demeanour doesn’t change, his arm wraps gently around your shoulder and continues to stare down at you.
He exhales the smoke through his nose as he listened to you talk, tone reducing to a more gentle one. “Well, why are you scared? You know I’m not gonna think of you any differently if you tell me. I always tell you that.” He shrugs.
“I just don’t like it, Hitoshi. I don’t know what to say…” you explain begrudgingly, “It’ll get all awkward and you’ll start pitying me and I just can’t be bothered.”
“I’m not gonna pity you.” He responds firmly, taking another drag of the cigarette as his other hand gently strokes your shoulder. “And it sure as hell won’t make things awkward between us, stop making dumb excuses and talk to me already.”
You think in silence for a moment, stomach lurching in a familiar, unsettling way. How the hell do you explain to somebody that you’re avoidant when you’re trying to avoid the subject entirely? The thought of the conversation is already distressing you to the point of internal panic.
“…’toshi, please. I’m not good with this stuff.” You whine quietly.
“You think I’m any better?” He snaps back. It’s beginning to get irritating that you won’t talk, and it’s not as if he doesn’t already have a pretty good clue of the issue. “I’m not judging you for having feelings, so out with it.”
And with his words… you can’t help but take in a shaky breath as the tears begin to well in your eyes. “…I have commitment issues. And I hate it.” The words finally tumble part your trembling lips. “I know it sounds stupid but I really really can’t help it a-and I’m so… so sick of it.”
His face softens, still rubbing your shoulder gently. “It’s not stupid.” He speaks in a low tone. “It makes sense, but why haven’t you mentioned it before?”
“Because I hate the vulnerability! That’s the whole goddamn thing. I hate when things get serious.” Your breathing begins to strain suddenly, attempting to control the suddenly rising emotions. “It’s the same reason I hate gifts, I hate texting people every day, I hate clinginess, I hate the obligation to being so intimate, like I’ve lost my independence. I hate it so much, I ruin everything.”
He feels his heart drop as your breath quickens and immediately pulls you in tighter, rubbing his hand along your arm to try and soothe you. He’s never witnessed you like this before. You always appear so lively and carefree, to see you so broken suddenly is taking him by surprise.
“Hey, hey, calm down. Deep breaths, Y/N.” He reassures you in a gentle manner, my gaze staying fixed on you. “You’ve not ruined anything. You’re fine. Stop being so hard on yourself.”
“No, I cant!” you cry, hardly able to calm yourself. “I have ruined everything, things with Kyoka, things with Tetsutetsu, all because I couldn’t handle feeling so trapped- and now I actually want to fucking commit to someone, and I’m having panic attacks every other fucking day because I can’t understand why I can’t fucking do it!”
You’re breaking down right in front of him and he doesn’t know what to do. You’re practically spilling your entire life story at once and all he can do is to just listen.
“Jesus, Y/N-” I breathe out weakly, my hand rubbing up and down your back. “Slow down. I can barley understand what you’re saying.”
You take small, sharp gasps of air covering your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment and panic, hating the feeling of the adrenaline rushing through your body. It takes a few moments to steady your breathing, still crying weakly but less tense.
He doesn’t let go for a while, continuing to keep his arms around you as you cry. Just trying to soothe you as much as he can. When your breathing finally starts to level out he loosens his grip on you somewhat, but still doesn’t move away.
“Are you okay?” I ask hesitantly, my hand now rubbing your shoulder instead.
You sniffle quietly into the sleeves of your hoodie, hearing his words. “I can’t. I can’t do this.” Is all you manage to say.
He lets out a small sigh, his grip on you tightening again. Why did you have to make this so difficult for the both of us? “Yes you can.” He states firmly, knowing that hearing him be so certain would annoy you, but it’s the truth. “You’re just overcomplicating it in your head.”
“It’s not complicated, it’s pure panic. I can’t get over it.” You whimper, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t want to be so scared, I fucking hate it but I can’t help it. I start feeling like a caged animal.”
“You don’t need to get over it on your own.” He speaks in a gentle tone of voice, hating the way you’re talking about yourself. “You aren’t a “caged animal”. You’re just scared of being vulnerable. I get it.” His hand moves from your shoulder to your chin, gently moving your head up so that he can look you in the eye. “But you can’t just shut yourself away from people forever, Y/N. It won’t help anything.”
You stare up at him through wet lashes when he pushes you to look at him, still feeling the urge to shy away, to hide yourself, but he won’t let you. You’re intimidated. Your mouth opens slightly, wanting to speak, but unable to.
“Say something.” He mutters in a firm tone, his eyes still locked with yours. “Don’t sit here in silence like you’re some scared little girl, and don’t you dare look away from me.” He knows you hate being babied. “Say something.”
You gulp. “…I want to commit.” You mumble.
He softens slightly when you speak, hand unmoving from its place on your chin to maintain the deep eye contact. “Good.” he says in a reassuring, somewhat authoritative tone, glad that you’re at least being honest. “That’s a start. What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t want to feel restricted.” You respond, your voice growing in confidence ever so slightly, though still visibly trembling with underlying fear. “It makes me panic.”
He nods slightly in understanding, his thumb rubbing the skin beneath your lip to soothe you. “Why does it make you panic?” He asks, wanting to know everything that’s going on in your head right now. “Is it because you feel like you want your independence? Or are you worried about the obligation that comes with it?”
“Both.” You respond shamefully.
He lets out a sigh, knowing that both of those answers just made it a hell of a lot more complicated.
“Okay…” he breathes out, taking a moment to think. “Alright… you don’t want to feel trapped. That’s understandable, but you can’t let it control you. Can you pinpoint exactly who you want to commit to?” He clarifies, looking you directly in the eye.
And at the question, you feel yourself begin to panic again. You know you can’t say it to his face, embarrassment and guilt washing over you. “Uhm… yeah. But the person doesn’t know that.”
He notices how you quickly grow more panicked at the question and it confirms his suspicions… and hopes. He knows exactly what you’re not willing to say… but like the gentleman he is, he’s not going to push you to say it. He’s just going to coax you into doing it yourself.
“Well, then.” I respond, my hand still on your shoulder. “Looks like the real issue here is that this person doesn’t know that you’re feeling like this. Maybe you should just tell them.”
And finally, you break the eye contact, looking away. “…well, I guess he knows now.” You mumble defiantly.
He lets out a small chuckle, not the reaction you were expecting. “Well that’s good then isn’t it?” He responds in a playful tone, moving so that he’s directly facing you.
“…we can work through this together, yeah?”
