where is my mind

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Like most of the kids growing up around Pokemon, Ochako’s dream was to become a Pokemon master. She’d often share her fantasies with her friend Shinsou, painting a picture of a roaring crowd with confetti raining down as she defeats the Elite Four. Her dream team being every single Pokemon known as she couldn’t make up her mind just yet, but positively her starter would be Cyndaquil. That was the ultimate goal, and it’s what kept her awake at night with excitement. 

The odds of becoming a Pokemon master? Out of the thousands who make the attempt? Well… she wasn’t very good at math. However, strict algebraic equations weren’t enough to stop her from reaching the impossible. There were plenty who settled to be trainers with their own journey, a lot made it to gym leaders. Others turned to tarot readings, and some focused on dance. No matter the hobby or profession, you couldn’t really say one was less enticing than the other because it all consisted of a strong bond with their Pokemon. Her parents owned a moving company featuring Machamp’s and Machoke’s to help people move around the region - even going as far as Kanto in some circumstances. And while she was certain they may want her to join their company, her parents have been openly supportive of her high standard dream.

“Tomorrow’s the day we get to pick our Pokemon!”

An excited brunette was hanging upside from a branch she climbed up on. She had so much energy and not enough of her to contain it all. 

“I’ve known for a long time who my bestie is gonna be! What about you, Shinsou? Changed your mind about taking it easy yet?”

The idea of her childhood friend sitting here and not exploring the world just didn’t sit right with her. Even when they were younger, he never put in as much enthusiasm as she had about forming a Pokemon team. What about all the opportunities he’d be missing out on? The fresh beach air from the other side of the country? His soul mate?

“You might like it if you try it!”

@vexernum​ // Pokemon AU

❝I see no point in it.❞ Comes Hitoshi’s immediate, blunt response— his eyes never leaving the page of the book he’s been burying himself in for the past half hour under the shade of a tree. Though focusing has proven to be a challenge now when his friend had stopped by to run her mouth, again, about her excitement for tomorrow. He will be going with her to get her first pokemon but he, on the other hand, would prefer to keep himself free from any sort of pokemon responsibilities.

Not only are they high maintenance, but he also believes they’re proof that mankind has gone lazy. He’s seen several who have used their pokemons to assist them with their necessities which would have been fine if it weren’t for the fact that the majority he’s seen just use their pokemons to do their bidding and nothing else. Maybe his friend has yet to see that side of reality but he isn’t going to be a jerk and point it out now when she’s clearly on cloud nine over picking her first pokemon tomorrow. 

She can be too optimistic at times. 

His air of disinterest sits in stark contrast to Uraraka’s springing enthusiasm and when he comes to only realizing now that the brunette is hanging upside down from a branch, he looks up and frowns at her.

Being as nosy as she is, Nicolette takes the opportunity to peek into Hitoshi’s bag as it is lifted before her eyes, a single finger reaching out to pull back some of the plastic for a better look. Peering inside, a hum is the only immediate response, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. It seems very like him, she thinks. Very practical and almost all healthy. She wants to tease him about it, but figures he might not appreciate that— not that she really had the right to, either. At least he was being conscientious, what with being a hero and all. She worked out enough to stay in shape and never had to partake in anything too strenuous, so the only person who’d ever know the true effects of all the poison she put into her body was her doctor.

Oh, he must certainly look forward to her visits.

He’s speaking again, and she quickly steps back from her snooping to allow him some space as he begins digging in his pocket. As the lighter is presented and left in her hands, her expression is momentarily grateful, before that soft smile becomes a smirk and eyes fixate on his face, incredulous. ❝ Oh~? Who knew my hero was such a bad boy? You’re being a TERRIBLE influence, you know that? ❞

She’s just joking, of course, as comfortable laughter follows the accusation. Once again she’s pulling the cigarette from her pocket and placing it between her lips; however, before the lighter can do its job she seems to consider something and pulls the entire pack from her bag. Manicured nails retrieve another from the container and offer it. ❝ Care to join me outside? You look like you need it… no offence. ❞

❝I-It’s just a smoke...❞ Okay, maybe he is a tiny bit aware of the whole ‘bad boy look’ smoking can give but he always figures he’s exempt to that certain aesthetic. Besides, he had already promised Kisumi and his mom that he will stop smoking soon but seeing how his habit had elicited such a positive reaction out of Nicolette, he’s starting to have second thoughts. He eyes the cigarette being offered to him and he hesitates for a second. 

He never really said when he’ll stop so technically speaking, he isn’t breaking any promises yet. Just a single stick of cigarette can do no harm anyway.

With a shrug, he reaches out with his unoccupied hand and accepts the offer. 

❝Thanks, and you’re right. I do need it.❞ He actually needs more than a smoke. An entire day off from work would be nice. Perhaps some time away from everyone just so he could take a breath for once and focus on himself. But that’s easier said than done. Taking a break is almost nonexistent to pro heroes and he doubts he’s special enough to be exempted from that. 

While the older man moved to open the door, Dabi slid down to the floor, curling up on the bathroom tiles, planning on staying hidden no matter the cost. He didn’t let out the smallest of peeps even though he could feel the burning of his wounds underneath his shirt, his stitches straining under the pressure but somehow still staying in place. He only flinched harder when he heard the heavy steps coming his way, knowing full well none of this could end well. And yet it wasn’t really about him at that moment, no. Despite everything, the curses, the names and the many unnecessary scoldings, Aizawa probably deserved better than to have the entirety of the mafia onto him. And that was exactly what would happen had any of the men chasing after him seen as much as a glimpse of him.

Besides, despite deeply wanting to help get rid of the assailants, he was in no shape to do any punching whatsoever. Of course this didn’t stop him from trying to stand up from his spot and ready himself for a fight, only to feel a strong flash of pain hard enough to make him bow in half and let out a silent scream. Left twitching and on his knees he had to forget about leaving this place all the way to the moment Aizawa managed to throw out the intruders.

The two men were left groaning on the floor with the remaints of the coffee table digging uncomfortably into their backs and stomachs. One of them had to have landed particularly unfortunately because for the first few seconds he was gasping for air as if he couldn’t keep any of it in his lungs. His partner was already scrambling back onto his feet, blood dripping onto his clothes until he reached it with the back of his hand and smeared it onto his cheek instead. Perhaps they started off the wrong foot. 

❝Just give us the bastard and we’ll leave.❞ He hissed out, jaw set as he watched the flat’s owner try to catch his breath. ❝Nobody needs to get hurt.❞

❝’Nobody needs to get hurt?’ That’s rich coming from someone bleeding on my floor.❞ With a tired sigh and a quick crack of his neck, Shouta makes his way to the kitchen sink to get himself a glass of water— knowing fully well that the assholes are too wounded to do anything. After filling his glass and turning around to look at his intruding guests, he takes a sip of his refreshment then gestures to them with a tilt of his head.

❝Catch your breaths then get the hell out of my place.❞ His mind is already dreading the time and effort it will take for him to wash all the blood off of his floor. He eyes the shattered mess that used to be his coffee table and resists a groan of annoyance at the thought of bleeding his wallet dry just to buy a new one. Maybe he doesn’t need a new one. He’s never used that table anyway until last night when a kid who is apparently a magnet to trouble came breaking into his apartment.

Much to his irritation though, one of the assailants still makes an attempt to limp his way to where his bathroom is and Shouta sighs for the nth time. He puts the glass down and makes his way to the two intruders before grabbing them by the scruff of their shirts and dragging them out of his home. He easily throws them out which elicits pained yelps from the two. He doesn’t have to look back to know that they have left even more of a mess by trailing their blood all over his floor. God, a day off from work is meant to be spent sleeping the entire day away— not wasting his time picking up the messy pieces Dabi had left for him. 

❝Go on then. Scram.❞ With just a quick flick of his wrist, the two thugs scramble back up to their feet and rush away despite the injuries he had generously provided them. After making sure they have left for good, he pushes his door closed... only to realize that his lock has also been damaged. Shit. Headache begins to worm its way into his brain as he turns around to face the direction to his bathroom.

     ❝ sure thing ! i know a place, i’m sure you’ll like it. ❞      some hole in the wall italian joint ( ahem, it was called luigi’s ) that she’d grown to love over the past few years of living in the area. the owners were nice enough and often times would toss SOMETHING extra into the woman’s orders.       etsu peers at her new-found guest once more, noting the fact that he’s erm… well. he looks like he could do with a shower. and some clean clothes ? ah, heck.       ❝ here, uhm. follow me. something tells me you’ve had a long… shift, and helping me was the icing on today’s cake. ❞      etsu hesitates, contemplating if she should just grasp his wrist and lead him along– though something about him suggests he wouldn’t be very fond of that.      ‘ personal space, girl– respect it. ‘      turning then, the pint-sized pro exits the kitchen and immediately hangs a left to travel down the short hallway. at the end of it, there’s a door ( the bathroom ) with two other doors on both sides ( master + spare bedrooms ). etsu nudges her way into the restroom and flicks the light on, blinking some at the sudden brightness.       ❝ you’re probably going to claim you’re fine, but really, i insist. here let me just.. you can control the water temperature by moving the handle. warmer to the right, colder to the left. the shower turns on by pulling the handle out. to turn the water off, just pop the handle back in. ❞      she exits then, squeezing past him to enter the guest bedroom. the sound of a closet being opened can be clearly heard, followed by some rummaging around. as weird as it probably was, she swears there should be something in here that might fit him. hmmmm… where were those– aha ! a victorious noise. joggers that may be a smidgen too short, along with a dark-colored shirt that should hopefully fit.      ❝ these should work. you don’t need to wear them, but if you’d like i could clean your costume up in the meantime. shouldn’t take me too long ! ❞      pizza orders could vary, taking up to twenty or thirty minutes at times. sometimes even longer. with her offer hanging between them, etsu goes silent and waits for an answer. externally, she looks as friendly as ever, but internally there’s a storm of concern brewing. was her friendliness coming off as weird ? was she being overly eager ( again ) ? with her usually taking night shifts company wasn’t a common thing for her to have, so her inner host was probably going a little haywire.

Hitoshi just really wants some slices of pizza but apparently, the short heroine has something more in mind. He blinks in bewilderment when she gestures him to follow her out of the kitchen which probably isn’t a good idea to do so. He doesn’t know her that well and to delve deeper into her home wouldn’t be ideal. But then again, it would also be rude to ignore whatever it is she’s about to offer him so he decides against staying still and awkwardly trails after her. He does his best not to let his eyes roam around as they walk down a short hallway. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s snooping around.

They wind up in the bathroom and much like earlier, Hitoshi blinks in bewilderment. He watches her explain how her shower works as he tries to think of a polite way to insist that she doesn’t need to go full-on host mode on him. 

❝Um, that’s...❞ He tries but the heroine is as quick as a chipmunk because suddenly, she’s already squeezing past him to probably get him clothes; clothes that will most likely not fit him at all. He turns around when she comes back with a set of garments that really aren’t meant for him. He could already tell the joggers will only reach down a little too above his ankles and the shirt will probably be a touch too fit for him to be comfortable in. His intent to reject her generosity sits at the very tip of his tongue but as soon as his eyes meet hers and he sees the look of enthusiasm adorning her soft, round features...

...he concedes.

         For probably the first time ever, Snake finds himself getting caught up in the moment. 

         It’s just the the two of them, the park, the night sky, the stars and the moon; and he lets himself get lost in the tranquility of it all. He takes a moment to close his eyes and just take it all in as the hero pushes him to open up. And for a minute, a brief moment, he almost does.

         Just as he opens his mouth to respond, a breeze blows past, cold enough to bring him back to reality and make his eyes snap open as his body shivers. 

         It’s only then that he realizes just what the other was really asking of him, and he can’t help but scowl. He was angry. Angry at Shinsou for insisting on intruding into his life. Angry at himself for nearly giving in to this moment of weakness. And angry at the thought of having to recall his past and all of the abuse and neglect he suffered at the hands of others. 

         He didn’t need that. Not now. 

“I don’t want to talk about it! Especially not to a hero.”          he snaps, looking away before continuing under his breath. “… It’s nothing like the rosy and sunny life that heroes get to live…”

Rosy and sunny life...

Hitoshi doesn’t bother to pry any further, knowing doing so would be like talking to a wall. Snake must have really gone through a lot of shit to behave the way he does now and for a moment, the hero feels a little shitty for even pushing. It’s not his place to ask. Not when he’s had the privilege of getting accepted to U.A. and graduating with people he can now comfortably call his friends. 

Sure, the path to where he stands has taken a toll on him and it certainly wasn’t as rosy and sunny as his companion assumed it was but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, his mind whirring for anything to talk about just to slice the dead air between them. He can’t risk letting Snake dwell on those thoughts he had just triggered out of him.

Truth be told, Monoma had expected to be brushed off. Of course he believed there was a strong possibility Shinsou was jealous for one reason or another… Maybe because he believed himself to be unlucky in romantic endeavors where he thought Monoma was flourishing.

What he got instead was a blush coloring his roommate’s cheeks. Calculating eyes quickly zeroed in on it, wondering for the faintest of seconds if years worth of teasing flirtations would finally lead to something more…

Kiss me, you fool. His own cheeks darkened, wanting nothing more than to lean in, but he refused to give in, to show his hand. This was always something he was far too careful with… never doing anything that couldn’t be explained away as simply a facet of his personality. For as arrogant as he could come off, doubt was a plague he never leaned how to rid himself of…

Ah, but there it was. The spell being broken. A quiet, nearly sad sounding laugh left him as Shinsou retorted, his fingers briefly dancing along the side of his friend’s face. Just because he pays half the rent? “Not quite…” His often scrutinizing stare was softened, a small but fond smile gracing his lips. Monoma did mean what he said, after all.

He should have thrown in a retort of his own, made mention that it’s also because Shinsou does his fair share of the handiwork, but instead he let the sincerity hang in the air as he stepped away and moved on, wrinkling his nose in distaste from what he was about to say. “As for Awase, his sights are still set on the former class present of the ever so abhorrent class A.” And mine on you. That thought would stay locked away, but as Monoma turned, he gave a pointed look over his shoulder. “As for my own interests…”

His shoulders shrugged. “Well, that hardly matters. Point is, we’re simply friends who occasional eat dessert together when he proves to have dreadful taste.” A hand waved in the air before he spun around to face Shinsou completely. “So, feeling better now~?”

❝I wasn’t feeling bad about it in the first place...❞ Hitoshi could only mutter his lie as though he’s trying to convince himself rather than his friend. He wants to question Monoma more— not much about Awase but more about that very fleeting moment of sincerity that flickered upon the blond’s features when disagreeing with his assumption of why he’s his favorite. He had half-expected for Monoma to respond with something teasingly witty but he never bothered to convey what he meant.

And Hitoshi figures that if he were to ask, his curiosity will be put into question as well.

The last thing he needs right now is for Monoma to be even more suspicious of his behavior. Just the thought of the other hero picking up on his genuine feelings and getting uncomfortable by it brings in a twisted sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. No, he doesn’t want to put Monoma on the spot like that. Maybe the guy will laugh it off at first, but Hitoshi knows him well enough to predict that his mask of playful nonchalance will eventually crack the more he lingers in discomfort. 

The faster Monoma finds someone he’s more compatible with, the better (never mind the fact that Hitoshi reacted differently the second he assumed his friend is already dating someone). The guy is undoubtedly into those extravagantly gaudy types; the kind of people who would play polo as a way to pass the time or spend six figures on individual pieces of art just because they can. Not like him who works himself to the bone with the ugly dark circles under his eyes to show for it.

God, this sucks.

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Mortified. Frozen. Speechless. There are so many things to describe the sheer humiliation looming over Hitoshi like a dreary cloud. He thought he could pull it off— to make it seem as though this isn't his first time to be so intimate with someone but apparently, fate has something else in store for him. He couldn't even lift his gaze to meet Kisumi's eyes, knowing that he had put the both of them on the spot due to this... newfound information about him. Feeling his friend's warm build against his offers a bit of comfort at least, but it still isn't enough to sway him into meeting his eyes.

He's still a virgin. That much is obvious now and insisting otherwise will just make him look more of an idiot than he already does. His only experience was with a girl who went down on him right after their first date which isn't that much different from what just happened now, except he and Kisumi weren't really on a date and it wasn't arranged by his father. Nevertheless, it still yielded the same results— with his nose bleeding just after blowing his load.

At least he isn't being laughed at this time.

He finally looks up at Kisumi and watches him tug another piece of tissue for him. There is not a trace of mirth in those purple hues; nothing but patience and understanding. Slowly but surely, Hitoshi could feel the tight strings of humiliation that initially pulled his entire body taught finally loosening up bit by bit.

❝You look exhausted.❞ Hitoshi points out in spite of the fact that he looks just as tired himself. He knows he should have kept that thought locked up in his mind but keeping quiet hasn’t been helping him in trying to stay awake. Some loud kids playing badminton nearby or the obnoxious chatter of families and friends having a great time on their picnic mats should have been good enough to keep him attentive and focused on this essay he’s been working on. But sleep has been weighing on his eyelids with every passing second.

Just classmates.

   Figures. Hitoshi won’t even admit to them dating, so what on Earth possessed him to, even fleetingly, believe this could be some sort of proposal was beyond Kisumi. Idiot–Kisumi internally berates himself, straining a sheepish smile as the onlookers stroll away, visibly disappointed at their lost chance of witnessing a grand, romantic gesture. Though relief crashes over him ( he’s sure he can feel sweat drops oozing out of his pores ) there’s also a pinprick stab in his gut. 

“Sorry, I just thought you’d rather know before more people crowded around us.”

   He rolls his shoulders, only somewhat apologetic. His eyes can’t help but keep stealing glances at the box, which he notes Hitoshi stubbornly clinging onto. It’s obvious it’s a gift for him, so why doesn’t he just hand it over already? A mix of excitement and impatience blends inside him though the tense lines drawing Hitoshi’s features advise caution. What’s making him so uncomfortable?

“So…”

“What’s in the box that’s gotten you all worked up?”

❝It’s nothing.❞ He slips the box back into the pocket of his hoodie, feeling like an absolute idiot. But the more the small crowd around them disperses, the more he can finally breathe. What is it with being with Kisumi that attracts strangers? He sighs and looks around for a second, making sure nobody’s paying attention to them anymore, before redirecting his eyes back at the pink-haired male. 

❝It’s just... a favor from my dad. He wanted me to buy something for my mom before I go back to Japan this Christmas break.❞

Dumb excuse. Dumb fucking excuse. But he’d like to think he pulled that off well, or maybe he didn’t. He’s not gonna wait around to find out though.

He clears his throat right after. ❝Anyway, uh, happy birthday. Come on, let’s get outta here.❞ He gestures to the direction of their destination with a tilt of his head, keeping his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie and holding the box in his grip again. He doesn’t need another incident after all.