Chapter Text
Aizawa Shouta prided himself on being a man in control of his emotions. He kept a good straight face (he played a mean poker game, in fact), he wasn’t prone to outbursts of anger or laughter (even evading the Laughter Hero), and for the past ten years he had kept his emotions in check, making his friendship with the man he was head over heels, disgustingly in love with, possible.
Aizawa knew what a person who couldn’t control their emotions looked like. There was his father, for one, who had so little grasp on his own human expressions that Shouta had seen, his whole life, the man ruin every relationship around him with his outbursts of anger and controlling tendencies. Shouta was a pro-hero now, and though he would never shake off the guilt that it took him so long, he no longer allowed his father anywhere near his mother.
Hizashi was another example entirely. Hizashi might seem to the unsuspecting onlooker to be a man of little tact. He was loud and he frequently said personal and emotional things. But Aizawa knew him well. Hizashi’s heart was on his sleeve but it was iron-cased, nevertheless. Hizashi was too intelligent to let his emotions overpower him. Every burst of emotion he let forth was perfectly logical, or at the least, reasonable.
Seeing Hizashi shrink into his speaker, embarrassment clear on his face as his station manager yelled him down was not what Shouta expected when he made the hike up to the fifth floor of the building Put Your Hands Up Radio was located in. He had been intending to walk home with Hizashi after his show got done, at 6am.
Normally he waited outside if he dropped by after Hizashi’s show. Shouta’s patrol tended to finish right around the same time, so it didn’t seem odd for him to wait for Hizashi. Today, though, he thought on a whim he might go up and see Mic in his studio. Being a pro-hero he was easily able to get past security.
He wasn’t feeling so whimsical as he shrunk back into the shadows of the stairwell, having arrived at Hizashi’s studio in the middle of a one-way argument. Hizashi’s manager was screaming at him, the effort of it all shaking his whole body which gave every tell-tale warning sign to Shouta that he was volatile.
“YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED. LOOK AT THESE RATINGS. TELL ME YOU DIDN’T SEE THEM. YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING SOMETHING ABOUT THIS. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO CONTINUE TO DRAG THIS STATION INTO THE GROUND WITH YOU, YOU TALENTLESS ASS.”
Unconsciously, Shouta was barring his teeth in anger, fuming in the shadows that he was hiding in. Fatigue was clear on Mic’s face and in the way, he held himself. He had just completed a seven-hour long show, of course, he was exhausted. Aizawa knew that before the show he was at school teaching all day, and then grading papers, and then investigating a case, before dashing off to the studio to host.
When the manager lunged closer to Hizashi and his hand rose and grabbed Hizashi’s shoulder in an intense grip, that was it—Eraser took off, leaping into the middle of it.
And that was what had led to this—Aizawa clenching his fists as his roommate, his best friend, his unrequited crush, yelled at him in their apartment half an hour later.
“SHOUTA DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU JUST DID?!” Hizashi was tugging at his hair in frustration and Shouta wanted so badly to grab his hands and gently guide them away. “YOU MIGHT HAVE JUST LOST ME MY CONTRACT SHOUTA. HE COULD SUE YOU EVEN! I’M OUT THE DOOR! THERE’S NO WAY I STILL HAVE A SHOW!”
“H...Hizashi...” Shouta mumbled into his scarf, face red, eyes threatening to actually produce enough tears to do something akin to crying.
“SHOUTA HOW COULD YOU?!”
Aizawa snapped. Again, for the second time that night. “HIZASHI!” he barked out in an exhausted tone that conveyed Hizashi needed to listen.
Hizashi silenced immediately when Shouta raised his voice.
“I... I’m sorry Hizashi. I acted without thinking when he grabbed you. I just... I just couldn’t... It was so fucking hard to just stand there and watch him degrade you like that!”
Hizashi scoffed. “You think I don’t know that? It fucking sucked, Shouta, but that’s not the point.”
Aizawa took a step closer. He couldn’t explain himself. Tears were definitely welling in his eyes now. “I should have broken that bastard’s legs. I don’t care, Hizashi! I won’t sit back while someone talks to you like that!” The irony of his words and his raised tone didn’t hit him just then.
“I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO BE MY FUCKING HERO SHOUTA. I CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF!”
“I know you can Hizashi...” Shouta deflated. He retreated to the couch, no longer having the energy to hold his body upright. Head in his hands he didn’t notice when Hizashi walked to the kitchen and back. Not until Hizashi nudged a jelly pouch into his hand.
“Drink it. You need to eat something. You just came back from patrol didn’t you?” Hizashi mumbled.
Shouta’s hands trembled as he held the energy pouch.
“... This is the problem, Hizashi, this is why I love you so goddamn much...”
A thick wall of silence fell between them before Hizashi finally broke through.
“Excuse me?”
Shouta looked up at him, realization slowly dawning in his eyes. “You care about me so much. That’s why I’m so in love with you.” Shouta took a deep breath. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen. “That’s what I said.”
Hizashi just stared back at him wide-eyed.
“AIZAWA SHOUTA HOW DARE YOU CONFESS TO ME LIKE THIS TAKE IT
BACK TAKE IT BACK AND DO IT AGAIN!” Hizashi whined as he threw himself at Shouta, embracing him in a hug. “I love you too, idiot. ... And don’t worry about my manager... I’ll figure something out.”