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Was he angry?
No, not really. Not in general.
Was he ever angry?
Yes. all the time.
By all the time meaning the average amount of anger an average person would feel when facing an average average day situation.
It was normal to be pissed off like when the stupid bitch behind you stepped on your shoe or when the stupid bitch next to you randomly cuts you off in traffic. Stay in your lane!
But normally, you don’t react extremely badly. The average person would probably roll their eyes and forget about it. Or mutter a couple of vulgar words that would probably be peak comedy in adult swim.
And that was what he was. He was an average person with sort of average emotions.
While usually it was cause and effect, there was no effect to the causes when he faced them.
No equal opposite reaction to the action.
It was honestly scary how blank he got. He just saw no point in doing anything at all.
He didn’t care and his emotions were like currency to him.
The more you reacted, the more of your emotional energy you spent, eventually leaving you broke of your emotional currency, and he didn’t want to be in debt.
He wasn’t an angry person. It was pretty hard to actually anger him.
Even harder to get him to react on that anger.
Despite this, he was still average.
Average meaning whatever average was, differing from person to person, obviously.
He was by no means the prime example of an average person. That wasn’t to say he was special, or the ‘chosen one’ of anything but come on. He had a mustache. That’s more than the average population of the world could say.
Probably.
The mustache probably ranked him a tiny bit further from the center of the average scale of the world.
He’d never met anyone with hair as cool as his either. With his style. It was just too groovy to replicate.
But he was still an average person that led an average life. Minus the fact that he was a radio host. Okay, that’s another thing. How many people could say they were a radio host? Probably not the average person.
But hey, he was also a teacher! That was an average-ish job? It was more common for an average person to be a teacher than a radio host.
That was already two jobs. Did the average person have two jobs? He didn’t care. He had three.
The third being even less average then the last two more average jobs listed were.
Not a lot of people could say they were heroes.
He was still average, though.
Even if he did all of these things.
Even if he had a missing friend.
Even if he’d been looking for that friend for weeks or months or however long it had been.
He was still an average person.
He was sad when he needed to be sad and he was angry when he needed to be angry and he was happy when he needed to be happy and he was all of these things.
He was still average.
Even if he had a mustache and a groovy hair style and was a radio host and a teacher and a hero and that accumulated to three jobs and had a missing hero friend who he withheld everything but one emotion from who he had been looking for for the last weeks or months.
He was still average.
Even if he had a mustache and groovy hair style and was a radio host and a teacher and a hero and that accumulated to three jobs and had a missing hero friend who he always or not always but it definitely felt like always had his chest feel a little tighter around and his hands colder and that friend had been missing for weeks or months and he’s spent day and night looking for him every day and night of the weeks or months.
It didn’t matter because he was still average and had average emotions and reacted how an average person would react.
He was happy when he needed to be happy. And sad when he needed to be sad.
That’s what the average person did.
And he was average.
Even if the average person couldn’t say that they had a mustache or groovy hair or were a teacher and a radio host and a hero and that they had three jobs and had hero friends and one of their hero friends who always but not always made their chests tighter and their hands colder was missing and had been missing for weeks or months and they’d been looking for him for weeks or months every day and every night every single day and night of the weeks or months their friend who made their chest tighter and chest colder had been missing for.
He was still average.
Even if the average person couldn’t say that their friend who made their chest tighter and hands colder that had been missing for weeks or months and they’d spent every day and every night of every single day and night of those weeks or months looking for had rudely woken them up by knocking extra loud on their front door in the middle of the night exactly two hours, forty one minutes and seven seconds after they’d finally fallen asleep.
The average person would’ve said they were delighted and overjoyed to finally have their missing friend who made their chest tighter and hands colder finally show themselves after disappearing with just leaving a note to not look for him. That he didn’t want to be found.
The average person would’ve bombarded their friend who made their chest tighter and that didn’t want to be found with questions.
They would’ve been happy and probably cried and would’ve begged them to never, ever leave again.
But the average person couldn’t say all those things.
They couldn’t say that their friend who they had looked for for weeks and months and who made their hands colder and didn’t want to be found had showed up at their front door and rudely knocked extra loud and the knocks had disturbed them from their sleep exactly two hours, forty one minutes, and seven seconds after they’d finally fallen asleep and when he’d stomped on the cold and hard wood of his home to open the front door that had been knocked on had simply replied with hi.
They couldn’t say that they’d lost all reason. Or had come to terms with their true average emotions.
They couldn’t say that after finally seeing their friend, their teeth almost cracked from the sheer force of their jaw to his skull. They couldn’t say that their eyes stung with something close to being really close to a light bulb and despite it being pitch dark, felt as if a bright light was shining into them.
The average person would be happy. And he was happy when he needed to be happy. And sad when he needed to be sad.
He was average.
But if he was so average, he couldn’t explain why he wasn’t happy right now.
After searching everywhere for his friend who made his chest tighter. After being up almost all night and day for weeks or months searching for him. After being so worried that he’d unintentionally bitten his nails down to his cuticles. After pressing down on his empty fingers against the edge of the table when he felt as if he was getting nowhere. After placing bandages on them and getting right back to work.
He should be relieved. The average person would be relieved. And he was average,
Because he was so average, he couldn’t explain why he’d punched his friend square in the jaw. He couldn’t explain why he felt scorching anger from the tip of his head spread all the way to his shoulders and then to his arms. He couldn’t explain why after his friend had explained that he could explain he didn’t want it. He didn’t want an explanation.
He just wanted to hurt him!
He didn’t care where he’d been!
All he had done was make everyone that cared for him worried sick to where their fingers had bandages instead of nails and it was all for nothing.
All those days and nights of every single day and night of every week or months that had been spent looking for him had all been for nothing.
He had just left and left nothing but a note saying that he didn’t want to be found.
He was selfish and cruel and did he not care for the people that cared for him?
Did he not respect their average emotions?
Why was he so cold?
The blow to the face had them turned to a full on fight that had dragged to his living room. More like he was throwing hits at his evil friend while he was doing his best to dodge them.
He wasn't even fighting back, how dare he. Good! He deserved to hurt the way he’d hurt everyone!
This was an action Hizashi could not let slide.
He’d cornered his cold and evil and cruel and selfish friend right at the center of his l-shaped couch and his fists were unforgiving. If you could even call them that.
His hands were striking down with flat palms, loose fingers, and clenched and tightly closed hands. It was a mess. He was a mess for goodness sake.
“Why would you do that!” Hizashi spat out as his stupid hands had moved to just pound against his collarbones, “Why!”
He didn’t get it. Why would Shouta just leave?!
If Shouta knew that it was strictly against Hizashi’s moral code to kill anyone, he’d be doing his best to get away from this mad man that was spitting out nonsense. Mainly nonsense. He could pick out the insults and words Hizashi was throwing at him and put two and two together. He was just so angry at him and well- he didn’t make a move to leave because he understood.
He understood that he’d hurt Hizashi. And he understood why he was being called cruel and why Hizashi was borderline trying to murder him.
He hadn’t expected Hizashi to be this angry at him. He hadn’t expected him to be angry at all. Confused, yes. Upset? Definitely. But he would’ve never imagined the current outburst he was facing right now. The truth is that he should have. He should’ve seen this coming. He shouldn’t have underestimated the range of his emotions but he did.
And honestly, that was so so stupid of him. It was stupid to think that he could do this and be greeted with a smile and a hug, the events almost immediately forgotten. It was stupid to think that Hizashi could forgive him in a heartbeat.
He couldn’t even tell what Hizashi was thinking. He couldn’t tell if his face was wet with tears or sweat or both. And he just looked so worn, maybe the dark around his eyelids had been there before he’d even opened the door.
Regardless, he was the cause. That hadn't been there before.
He could tell that his anger was diminishing by the way each strike hurt less and less. Although, that only made his guilt increase. Hizashi had gotten so exhausted of his shit he couldn’t even continue to express his anger properly as he intended.
What had started as wide eyed and furious was now half lidded and just hovering in front of him, his head just longing to lean against the cushion of the couch.
The guilty silence that followed was so thick, Shouta almost wished that he’d meant what he’d written on the note he left.
When his eyes turned to the hands that had been previously attacking him, he couldn’t help but wonder what the bandages were for. Probably nothing good.
After realizing that Hizashi was not going to make a move to collide his hands with his body, for the time being, his knee hit the ground to use as a crutch to stand. The door had been left open and someone had to close it.
Another thing he should’ve expected was Hizashi’s surprisingly dense grip on his hand and shirt. His grip had always been a strong one. But the strength did not match the energy Hizashi was giving.
He was scared that his shirt might receive holes.
Hizashi pulled him down with no actual intention of having him sit back next to him. It was a silent order to not move. He wouldn’t allow it.
“I’m just going to close the door,” he explained as truthfully as he could.
Hizashi’s eyes glared at him. His smile lines deepening to help his face contort in anything but a smile, “I’ll close it.”
For someone that was a radio host, his voice couldn’t have sounded more bitter.
Hizashi had moved to shut and lock the front door.
“Can I give my explanation now?” Hizashi spoke up as Hizashi locked the door and moved a box in front of it so Shouta wouldn’t leave. He was just so delusional that he didn’t realize that Shouta could simply kick an empty box out of the way and open the door. He just let him have it.
The quick and exasperated exhale that preceded the question should’ve indicated the answer, but he was a man of many words, “No.”
He’d spent every single day and night for months looking for Shouta and when the answer was finally in front of him, just a breath away, he’d said, “No?”
“No.”
“I can tell you.”
“I don’t care, Aizawa.”
Shouta just nodded and stared at Hizashi’s socks. Stupid cactus socks.
Hizashi abandoned his cross-armed and hostile demeanor for an unkind and unwelcoming hold on Shouta’s arm to tow him to his bedroom. He never knew that stupid cactus socks against wood could create such loud stomps.
When inside, he shut the door with a kick of his foot, his arms pushing Shouta down to sit at the edge.
The light from outside combined with the moon could let him see what was going on with Hizashi’s face with no need for his eyes to adjust.
He could tell his eyes seemed blank, mainly because he was so weary and couldn’t gather enough energy to keep the frown he wanted to hold. The other reason is that he was so over this. Fuck Shouta!
With less force than before, he guided Shouta to lean back on the bed, his arm staying spread across it with no intention to move.
Shouta was confused for the first ten minutes.
They didn’t move. He didn’t move. Hizashi didn’t move.
He could tell Hizashi was blinking. He could tell he was watching him. And he could tell he was nodding off every couple of minutes.
When the confusion hit the fifteen minute mark, Shouta then realized what it was Hizashi was doing. He was waiting for him to fall asleep, duh.
“Just close your eyes, Zashi.” he sighed. Shouta didn’t feel tired so it’d be a while if this is what Hizashi was waiting for.
Hizashi shook his head, “No.”
Another thing he should’ve expected was this. But he was so selfish he hadn’t seen it coming when he should have. Not only had he hurt Hizashi, he’d also lost his trust.
Most of it.
Hizashi didn’t trust him enough to close his eyes and know that he’d still be here by morning. So he took it up himself to prevent it if that was Shouta’s course of action.
Hizashi would not let Shouta hurt him like this again.
Did he not know how important he was?
Did he not know how important he was to him?
Did he not know that when Hizashi thought of a happy ending, he was part of it, too?
Maybe he did know. Maybe he knew all of this. And he still decided to go ahead and abuse the power he had over Hizashi.
He knew that it would break him to just disappear and leave him out and he still did it anyway. And that was so cold.
Hizashi did not trust Shouta with the power he’d given him. So he wouldn’t ever let it happen again.
What was even worse on his part was that Shouta hadn’t realized how terrible he’d feel.
His throat was thick and his eyes felt hot. If there had been a way to know how icy his chest would feel when he saw Hizashi again, he didn’t know it.
But not all was lost.
Hizashi still trusted Shouta to show him his true emotions. To just understand them with no exchange of words.
He still trusted that Shouta would realize what was on his mind and accept it. He was a self proclaimed logical man, after all.
He trusted that he could be absolutely transparent with him and not try to downplay his actions.
Despite this, he still didn’t trust him to not leave while he was asleep.
“I’m not going anywhere.” Shouta shrugged.
“Shouta.”
“Hm?”
Hizashi lifted his head to look at him, eyes still blank and for once, there was no crease to be seen. His face was void of any tension, “If you ever do that again… if you ever try that again, I promise. I promise I will destroy you.”
Shouta had never seen Hizashi like this before, much less at him, so he took that to heart.
“Noted. Though that seems counteractive.” Shouta replied, being a smart ass.
Hizashi snorted and placed his head back down.
He was not forgiven quite yet, but he was back.
“Shouta?”
“Hm?”
“I hate you.”
“I know.”
All Shouta understood and all Hizashi meant was the equal opposite meaning of his statement