Archive of Our Own ^beta

The six smooth planes of a pencil rolled in the palm of Shouta’s hand. Momentum carried it from the tips of his fingers to the base of his palm as he tilted his wrist and flexed his fingers. Such a small object deafening in the silence of the waiting room as it clattered to the floor. Shouta’s hands brushed his legs as he bent forward from his place on the couch to pick up the pencil. Sitting up, leaning into the lumpy backrest, opting to twirl the pencil between his fingers over his lap. Index finger guiding it around the back of his middle, between the middle and fourth before landing in his palm. Fingers closing around the length of the pencil like one would hold the hilt of a knife. The tip of the lead, sharp, facing the worn material of his black cargo pants.

Where'd he even get this pencil from anyways? A knowing sideways glance as trembling fingers had placed it in his palm. Pulled from the disorganised mess of a tope bag. Something for his own unsteady hands. A distraction? A means of focus, perhaps. That tiny room filled so full with news they both knew was coming. They knew it was inevitable. So why was he so shaken?

The plain and simple of it? Hizashi needed cochlear implants. Not hearing aids. Implants. He’d put off coming to the clinic for so long that his hearing had worsened past the point where non-invasive hearing aids would improve his quality of life.

The long and convoluted? Hizashi needed to go under anesthesia, have surgery and get his cochlear’s optimised, which would mean CT scans, coming to the clinic to learn his auditory rehabilitation exercises which he'd have to do for the rest of his life.

Worst of all?

He'd need to give up his hero work or face going entirely deaf. Tinnitus and sign language would be the only things he'd ‘hear’ for the remainder of his days.

Shouta had listened to the doctor. Tried to understand. But there were so many gaps in his knowledge that it made him want to tear the hair from his scalp, not caring if it bled. He wanted to be hysterical about it. As though he was a Victorian woman crying over the grave of her husband as the coffin was lowered into the ground. He wanted to feel something. But he couldn't… He just couldn't muster an emotion from the knot in his chest. He felt soulless.

The curly head had been sent out of the room while Hizashi talked with the specialist. The blonde promised to fill him in on the details later that day. Anticipation was a silent killer. Clawing into the gaps between his ribs and settling atop his diaphragm. He swore he could feel his heart thundering, but the fingers he pressed to the pulse point in his neck said otherwise. Heart suspiciously calm for someone who’s just received the news that he has.

Pulling his satchel onto his lap, Shouta dropped the pencil into the front section, pulling out the tattered cover of a book. Pages yellowed with age, creased with love, underlined and tabbed. The spine broken from being re-read so many times. He’d been so careful with it before… how had its years and his affection rendered it to this state? A torn and flimsy thing. Flicking through the passages and phrases he’d underlined. The straight black lines of a precise pen and ruler from when he was a teen. Clinical and eager to learn. The smudged shaky pencil that had scratched nonsensical ramblings into the wide margins. A scared young-adult that was too self-aware for their own good. A bright orange glitter pen drawing on the inside of the front cover. Hizashi’s doing. A dark navy answered the ramblings of pencil after he’d aged further into adulthood. Providing his young-adult self with the answers he’d begged for in the earlier years. A book that usually made people depressed was the only one that ever made him feel known.

He was strange.

He knew that.

Shouta jumped as a hand on his right shoulder caught him off guard. Turning his head to see the person who’d wisely decided to approach him from his blind spot. A short breath of sandal wood and citrus filling his nose. It was his idiot. A manicured nail poked softly at his cheek, a small frown on the blonde's face, red-rimmed eyes enhanced by the frames of his glasses. Previously loose hair now drawn into a haphazard pony tail held by a rubber band. Shark fins of hair littering the top of his head. Unsightly by Hizashi’s standards. Raw and gorgeous by Shouta’s.

“You scared me, songbird.” Shouta spoke quietly,

“We need to pay, and then we can leave.” Hizashi’s hand came to stroke at the intersecting scars on his cheekbone, a silent apology, voice clipped and short, “I’ll explain everything at the park.”

“Okay. Do you want to go sit in the car? Warm the engine, pick some tunes while I sort out the insurance stuff?”

“Mhm…” Hizashi hummed quietly, a minute curt nod. His hand left Shouta’s face, palm upturned, shaking.

Pulling open his satchel once again, Shouta deposited the book back into its proper place, fishing the car keys out from the front pocket. The purple plastic of Hizashi’s medical file entered his peripheral vision. Catching it as it threatened to fall out of his lover's hand. Tucking it into his bag carefully. His fingers found the cold metal of the keys. Wrapping his husband's hand with his own as he placed the keys in his palm. Softly curling the lithe fingers before placing a kiss to the knuckles.

“Go.” Shouta looked up at Hizashi, “I’ll only be a few minutes. I promise.”

White and pastel yellow trainers squeaked unpleasantly against the linoleum floor of the clinic as Hizashi made a swift exit. Almost running as he crashed through the front door and into the car park. His wristful of bracelets threatened to shatter the glass panels embedded in the door with a loud clunk. Heart beating against his chest. Lungs rattling against his ribs with each breath he took. Reaching Shouta’s car, leaning a hand against the door. A wave of nausea drowned him. Bile welling up in his throat. Tongue heavy as saliva flooded his mouth. Crouching next to the car, hugging his knees as he willed the sensation to leave him. The handles of his bag digging uncomfortably into his shoulder. He wanted to shout and scream and wail. To hold something or be held. A violent shiver passed through his body as his cells begged him to give them the sweet gratification of a city leveling scream. To destroy himself from the inside.

Hizashi’s legs shook as he stood from his crouched position. Each step rattling his spine, the vibrations made his head ache, as he walked around to the drivers side. Jamming the key into the door handle to unlock the car. He pried the door open, practically throwing himself into the seat. Tossing his bag into one of the backseat footwells. Legs pulling themselves into the car as he shut the door behind them. He started the car, dreading the gentle hum of its engine and the static of the radio. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Hizashi connected his phone to the gadget that was lodged into the cigarette lighter, adjusting the radiowave frequency of the car’s radio to match the displayed channel on the small device. He scrolled idly through the albums and playlists on his phone until he landed on a decision, before tossing his phone into the cupholder carelessly.

Familiar music flooded the car. Hizashi let out a breath. Like he could finally breathe. Safe. He was safe. He just needed his husband by his side, and all would be right with the world again, right?

“Oh dear god, I need therapy, don't I?" Hizashi talked loudly over the music to the interior of the car, pressing the sides of his index fingers to his lip, fingers interlaced as if in prayer, “Maybe I'll get used to coming here? But, it's more than that and you know it, Hizashi. Shou’ will understand. He will. You know he will.”

The blonde sank even further down into the seat. Arms crossed lifelessly over the crown of his head. He just wanted to curl into the arms of his lover. Be held tightly, like he was the most precious thing in the world. Have praises whispered into his ear as he stuffed his face into the crook of his husband's neck just to be overwhelmed by his scent. Have his soul nursed and warmed just as the curly head had warmed his hands the night before. He needed Shouta to cut open his chest, wrap his hands around his heart and beg it to keep beating so he could keep the blonde by his side for the rest of their lives.

A cold gust of wind entered the car as Shouta slipped into the passenger side seat, closing the door behind himself before twisting to put his satchel on the backseat. The ebony haired man reached up to pull down the sunshade, opening the mirror as he pulled his scarf out of the way. Two nearly identical handprints. Deepening red marks of overlapped thumbs and cruel fingers painted the front and sides of his neck. Hizashi drew in a sharp breath, guilt seeping into his already darkened eyes.

“It’s okay, ‘Zashi. You didn't mean to hurt me.” Shouta spoke calmly as he tugged his scarf back up, shutting the sunshade with a quiet thud.

“I’ll help you colour correct it on Monday for work… if you want.”

“That might be for the best. But, in the meantime, you can kiss it better~”

“Now that is something I can do.” Hizashi’s demeanor lightened slightly as he leaned over the console of the car.

Shouta shifted so that Hizashi could reach his neck. Feeling the blonde’s nose nuzzle into his neck. Featherlight kisses placed where each fingertip ended. More kisses than he could count were administered in rapid succession to the column of his neck. Shivering as a playful tongue painted saliva over his adams apple. Shouta’s hand quickly pulled the blonde away from his neck, a coy smirk settling into his lover's expression as he undoubtedly was blushing although slightly disgusted by the others choice of action.

Shouta thought aloud, “I love it when you mark me, I love having a physical reminder of your love for me.”, his left eye staring into Hizashi’s, laughing slightly as panicked green eyes searched his face for any hint of a lie. Shouta’s thumb rubbed sweetly at the nape of the blonde's neck. “Perhaps I need to indulge in the things I like more. Would you be interested in that, my love?”

Hizashi nodded wordlessly, one of his hands covering his face, attempting to hide the all too obvious blush. Shouta released the blonde from his grasp. Watching him sink back into the driver's seat, staring out the windscreen before his fingers came up beneath the frames of his glasses to rub at his eyes. He swore he could see steam coming out of his lover’s ears.

“Oh no, I've broken my husband.” Shouta cackled in the passenger seat as Hizashi shot him an unimpressed glare.

“No, it's just that: if it weren't the middle of the day, we weren't in the carpark of the audiologists clinic and you were down for it, we’d be in the backseat having a hell of a time.” Hizashi said offhandedly, shifting the car into first as he glanced at the shocked face of his husband out of the corner of his eye. “Now, be a good boy and put your seatbelt on.”

A breathless and airy, “Yeah… okay”, as Hizashi turned them onto the main road.

—

The soft chime of a pre-recorded bell announced their entrance at the grocery store. Shouta pulled a shopping trolley out, checking that all the wheels went in the right direction before placing their reusable shopping bags onto the small hook on the cart. Sighing as Hizashi took this opportunity to get into the empty shopping trolly. Long legs covered in white linen bent into an acute angle as blonde hair spilled over his right shoulder from its place in the makeshift rubberband hair tie. A betrayed gasp left him as Shouta abandoned him in the trolley like a disappointed mother. A playful shake of his head made his dark curls bounce as he slowly walked away from the blonde in the shopping cart. Only to turn around to lift his husband out of the cart as he threatened to shout his name loud enough to rattle everything off the shelves.

Hizashi skipped down the aisles as his husband leant on the push bar of the trolley, slowly inching its wheels forward as he mithered about what wouldn't attract wasps at the park. Shouta pulled a pair of pre-made bento from under a heating lamp and placed them into the hollow of the cart. Fingers grasping at the thick orange skin of a persimmon, squeezing it, ripeness shown in its dark hue. Testing two others as he lowered them into the trolley. Blonde hair skirted round an aisle into the fresh produce section where Shouta stood. A wide smile held a light mischief at its corners as Hizashi dumped two armfuls worth of food into the cart.

Shouta raised his eyebrows, “We need all this?”, a hand coming to gesture in a slow circle at the heap of food in the trolley.

“Obviously. That's why I picked it up.” Hizashi jutted his chin forward, shaking it side to side slightly as his hands came up in a ‘duh’ motion.

“We are literally two people though? This is enough to feed us for like a week, this is too much stuff just for a picnic.”

“We needed groceries anyways… I think. It's fine! We can have picky bits for dinner for a week if it comes to it.”

“Uh huh,” the curly head hummed unconvinced, “Okay, how about this then. You take the trolley and start checking out. I need to grab, like, two other things and I'll be right there, okay?”

“Dont be too long, I'll miss you otherwise.”

Shouta laughed quietly, turning on his heel and casting a glance over his shoulder, “You big sap, I'll be two minutes.”

“Two minutes too long, in my very humble opinion as your husband!” Hizashi's voice raised loud enough for everyone in the small supermarket to hear.

The blonde cackled as he watched the tips of his lover's ears glow a faint red, watching his posture as the beautiful mess of black curls sunk deeper into the scarf that wrapped around his husband's neck. Waiting for the hunched form of his lover to round the corner of an aisle before he slowly started to walk towards the self checkout. Dealing with other humans might be too much considering how the day had progressed. Shouta didn't count as other humans though. Other people only existed in Hizashi's periphery. Sure, he had a stupid long list of acquaintances, but they were merely dimming stars in a far off universe. Shouta eclipsed his entire galaxy. There was something intoxicating about one person meaning that much to him. Like a drug he'd willingly get addicted to.

Hizashi's body moved on autopilot as he pulled shopping bags open, listening to the, almost filtered sounding, beep of the checkout as barcodes were read by the red light of the machine. Pausing to rub at his ears in an attempt to quiet the hissing, the feeling of the noise thundering against the fine hairs in his ear canals. Sure, the tests he'd had to have done were “non-invasive”, but they were still putting shit in his ears. The quieting of background noise in one ear as the cold metal of the doctor's otoscope was shifted around in his ear. A latex glove gently pulling at his ear to try and get a better angle, gloved fingers pressing into his cheekbone, pressing his jaw to get him to turn his head. He hated it.

Hands falling from his ears to continue their task. Eyes flickering behind glasses as they looked between the screen and the items that passed between his hands. The headphone tests had never been anything too bad. He was used to wearing headphones at the radio station. But the thin foam failed to provide any comfort to the shell of his ear. Headband too small, pressing his lobe piercings into his neck as his ears were squished flat to his skull, the hard plastic digging into the top of his head. God it had sucked.

The frustration that made him want to tear out his hair as he waited to hear the whispered words of the doctor. Horrifying realisation settled in as he waited against the hissing silence of the headset, glancing at his watch, five minutes had passed, nothing. Taking the headset off after a startlingly loud beep came through with the command. Frowning as he realised that the hissing was his own, rather than that of the electricity. He'd wanted to weep, but something in his chest told him to stop, to wait, that he wasn't allowed to cry. Not yet at least.

Hizashi stilled as a dark shadow moved in his peripheral vision. Waiting for calloused palms and fingers to cover his eyes playfully. Hovering just in front of the lenses of his glasses. For the warm breath against his ear as a delicate whisper was spoken.

“Guess who?” A chin came to rest on his shoulder, a warm heat followed as he felt his husband's body pressed into his back.

“Whoever could it be? I have no idea whatsoever!” Hizashi played along, “I do hope it's my darling husband.” Pulling the hand that covered his eyes away, turning his head slightly, looking down at his lover from the corner of his eye.

“Tis’ me, songbird,” Shouta's right arm curled around Hizashi's waist, revealing a freshly wrapped bouquet of flowers, dainty yellow oncidium orchids interrupted by bright fronds of green, and a packet of lemon sherbets. The curly head placed a kiss to the blonde's cheek, “I come bearing gifts.”

“Starling, you shouldn't have. Thank you.”

“We needed a re-stock of the sherberts anyways.” Shouta shook the crinkly plastic of the sweet bag, stepping around Hizashi to scan it on the checkout, “Take these,” passing the brown market paper of the bouquet into his husband's hands, “and continue being pretty. I'll scan the rest of the stuff and pack it. Don’t tip them, there’s water in the bottom.”

“They’re beautiful Shou’. Surprising that the orchids are still in season considering it's turning late autumn now.”

“I would've gotten you some marigolds, cus’ I know they’re your favourite, but they’re out of season and they don't seem to grow them in the greenhouses oddly enough.” Shouta rambled as he scanned the final few items, “I know the dancing ladies are pretty high up on your list of flowers though, they were the last ones the florists in this supermarket had for the week. So that was lucky!”

“Dear god I love you so much, remembering such unimportant information about me, you are the most divine human to ever exist.” Hizashi took a hold of his husband's face with his right hand, leaning down slightly to attempt to cover every inch of his face with kisses. A playful shove stopped him as he crossed the bridge of Shouta’s nose, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as an shameful blush rose under his husband's skin, a lithe finger rising to poke at warm cheeks. A giddy, “You love me.” followed by a lighthearted giggle.

Shouta grumbled with a sassy cadence, “Obviously, you idiot.”, tapping a card against the card reader, waiting for it to beep before tucking the card back into his wallet.

“I’m your idiot though,”

“Yes, you’re my idiot. C’mon, let go. The park is calling and I'm hungry.”

“Alrightly, starling.”

Shouta flipped open his satchel, putting his wallet away safely in its designated place, fishing the car keys out and handing them to Hizashi. He turned to pick up the filled grocery bags. Shucking one onto his right shoulder and holding the others with his right hand so that his left was free to hold his husband's hand. The pair walked through the exit of the supermarket, walking a couple paces down the street to their car and Hizashi’s best attempt at parallel parking. It was a wonder how he passed his driving test. The car’s headlights flashed as the blonde disarmed the locks, shoving the key into the keyhole of the boot, twisting it to unlock it before lifting the panel of metal up with the assistance of the gas struts.

Letting go of Shouta’s hand, Hizashi pulled the picnic bag forward, moving it to the side of the boot so Shouta could place the grocery bags down easily. Walking around the car, Hizashi unlocked the backseat door, carefully lowering the brown paper that encircled his flowers into the footwell. Safe enough for the time being. Shouta would hold them for him on the drive home. The dark haired man rifled through the various shopping bags, attempting to figure out what Hizashi actually intended for them to eat for lunch amongst his obnoxious stash of food. Pulling the, now squished, bento boxes from the bottom of a bag, Shouta transferred them into the picnic bag. Same with his persimmons. A second pair of hands joined him in pulling finger foods and snacks from the bags. Berries. Chocolates. Some fancy cheese Shouta had never once heard of. Their metal water bottles were extracted from Hizashi’s tope bag and placed into the now slightly overflowing picnic bag.

Both men stowed their respective shoulder bags into the boot of the car, pulling out keys, wallets and phones that got stuffed into pockets. Their hands met as they reached for the wool picnic blanket. Its coarse texture rubbed against their fingertips as it was tucked into the bag, covering the items inside to prevent them from jumping out the bag. Shouta sat down on the edge of the boot, leaning backwards to grab his running blade, dragging it against the soft felt that lined the interior of the boot. Powering down his knee before unlatching the pin of his prosthetic with a soft click, Shouta pulled his prosthetic off, placing it down behind himself. Changing out his liner, he grabbed the black carbon fiber of his running blade’s socket, opening the valve before coaxing his residual into the socket. The quiet hiss of air escaping the valve as a tight vacuum was made in the socket. Powering on the knee.

He closed the valve, turning to watch Hizashi pull his running shoe out from his tope bag. Eye tracking the blonde as he crouched down into a low squat, taking Shouta’s left foot onto his knee as he undid the laces of his shoe, running shoe wedged into the crease of his hip and thigh. He grabbed the heel of the shoe to pull it off his lover’s foot, placing the shoe on the bumpy tarmac of the road. Pulling the running shoe out of the gap of his hip and thigh, Hizashi undid the laces, placing two of his fingers at the back of the heel and with his other hand pulled at the tongue of the shoe before guiding his husband's foot into it.

Shouta wiggled his toes in the shoe as Hizashi tied the laces for him. He’d remembered his other leg and shoe, but not a different sock. The fabric would inevitably slip down his heel in this shoe. Either he’d have to tug it out or just live with a slightly uncomfortable sock for a few hours. How he wished he could run barefoot in the park again. Damp blades of elephant grass under the soles of his feet. Creeping up on unsuspecting grasshoppers or butterflies. Digging his toes into the soft dirt.

Leaning a hand on Hizashi’s shoulder as he found his balance, Shouta stood in front of the boot of the car, a hand coming to cushion his head as he nearly banged it against the door of the boot. Hizashi lifted the picnic bag onto his shoulder, ensuring his husband was out of the way before shutting the boot of the car, twisting the key into the lock, listening to the dull thud as it was secured shut. Headlights flashed once again as he pressed the lock button, just to make sure the car was actually locked, tucking the car keys into his pocket.

Walking to be on Shouta’s left, the blonde took the other's hand as they slowly made their way over to the pedestrian crossing, listening to the quiet beeping of the button as they waited for the lights to change. The green walking man flashed as the pair crossed the road. The ebony haired man leant into him with each step as his prosthetic right leg swung slightly outward before landing on the ground in front of him with a light recoil. Hizashi didn't know whether to feel honoured that his husband went to such lengths to be able to chase him around the park or to feel ashamed that he’d always asked so much of him. His husband had said how awkward it was to walk on his running blade. It had taken him months to learn to walk on the running blade, let alone run. That had taken closer to a year. Jumping took a similar amount of time. Then there was the adaptive combat training he’d had to take. Shouta had to completely change the way he fought. He was a leg down and couldn't exactly use it on the offensive given how expensive and fragile his prosthetic seemed to be when he had attempted to use it during a practice spar. He was so stupidly intelligent but also a complete idiot sometimes.

The pair walked quietly, moving from the tarmac of the road to the smoother pavement as they approached the glittering gates of the park. Silver polished, reflecting the streaks of sunlight that made their way through thin clouds. As pavement gave way to gravel, grass and dirt, the husbands located a shady spot under a tree. The sunlight danced in patches across the grass as it filtered through layers of leaves and branches. Hizashi tugged the coarse wool blanket from the bag, handing one of its corners to his lover. Slowly walking backwards, flicking the blanket open to place it on the ground. The blonde leant down, hanging at the hips to place the picnic bag down on one of the blankets edges to keep the wind from stealing it from them in the off chance that autumn decided to come in full force.

Kneeling down onto the blanket, Hizashi tempted his pockets onto the blanket before pulling their water bottles out of the bag, placing them on opposite corners of the blanket. He looked up to see the curly head slowly attempting to situate himself on the blanket. Right hand on the ground to support himself, left foot planted into the ground as he moved through the movement of a pistol squat to sit down on the edge of the blanket, refusing to step onto the wool with his shoe still on. Shouta's hips landed heavily onto the edge of the blanket, swinging his legs around so the blonde was perpendicular to him, the edge of his prosthetic and his running shoe safely clear of the blanket. Locking his hands over his head, Shouta briefly stretched his back before allowing his upper body to fall backward, a small writhe as he extended his left leg out, flexing his ankle a few times. A content noise left him as the spots of sun warmed his skin, his left eyelid fluttered closed as his right attempted to follow suit, he opted to throw a hand over his residual eye. Slightly annoyed he'd forgotten his sunglasses.

Shouta looked like a cat that had flopped onto a warm floor, purposefully laying in a streak of light that had filtered through a window, skin bristling as it soaked in the bright sunlight. Hizashi quickly swiped open his phone, clicking on the camera app as Shouta turned his head to the right to look at the blonde, eye quickly finding the camera as it clicked softly. A knowing smile and a roll of his eye as he beckoned the blonde towards him with his left hand. Rings glittering in the fragmented light.

Noting the hand that covered his lover's eye, Hizashi pulled a glasses case out from the picnic bag, opening the case as he moved closer to Shouta on his knees. Plucking the chipped silver frames from the case, the blonde lowered himself onto his stomach, feet crossing in the air behind him. Closing the case with a snap, he chucked the case onto the blanket with little care, shifting so his chest was somewhat leant atop his husbands. Tapping at Shouta’s right hand, his lover's left eye opened, its dark abyss now highlighting its hidden browns in the sunlight. Dark amber veins hidden amongst rings of shadowy oak.

Flicking open the arms of the glasses, Hizashi pulled Shouta's hand from his face, the milky white of a damaged iris encircled in a black ring. The muscles around his eye attempted to squint against the bright sunlight. Wincing as the beams of light attacked his brain as they shot into his eyes. A hard blink as his eye attempted to adjust. The feeling of plastic sliding against his cheekbones as a pair of glasses came to rest on the bridge of his nose. The blunt corners of Hizashi's old triangle sunglasses poked his cheeks softly. Albeit slightly dorky, shaded non-prescription sunglasses were a godsend.

“Thank you, dear listener.” Shouta adjusts the frames before pulling Hizashi further on top of him.

“Impersonating celebrities is illegal without a permit, you know,” Hizashi trails a finger in light circles over his husband's cheekbone, "I'd take you to court if you weren't so handsome.”

The blonde feels the laugh that erupts in his lover's chest before he hears it. A bright, crass thing it was. But a sound so simple he did dearly love. The slight smile on Shouta's lips was enough to tell him that he was content, even without needing to see his eyes.

“The world is changed because you are made of ivory and gold, precious as you already are, lover.” Shouta said quietly.

“And may the curves of your lips rewrite my history into something so sweet it's unbearable in the best way.” Hizashi sighed as he swiped a thumb over his husband's lower lip, fingers cupping his jaw as he placed a brief kiss to his lips.

The curly head pressed his lips into his lovers before turning his head away, “Not too much of that. We're in public and if the kids of 1-A are lurking about here, as they normally do, they'll find out our very well kept secret. Eri and Hitoshi already know, I trust them to keep it a secret. But the rest of 1-A… the whole school will find out in a matter of hours and then there's the damn press-”

“Yes, I know. I know, starling. I'll shower you with affection later. One more kiss? Just to satiate my desire for you?”

Turning his head back to look at his lover, Shouta takes hold of the back of Hizashi's head, raising his own head just slightly. Lips not quite touching. A shaking breath from the blonde as Shouta watched his green eyes flickering behind red glasses frames. The curly head’s lips to his own reflection in the sunglasses his husband now wore. Again and again. Waiting for his lover to allow him to kiss him. It was maddening.

“Go on then, songbird. Kiss me.”

Feeling the grip in his hair loosen, Hizashi closed the gap between them, lips pressing together softly. Their movements slow. Tension dripping like golden syrup. The blonde's forearms found their pace on either side of his husband's head as he devoured him genially. Manicured nails finding their way through dark curls to scratch at his scalp. Chapped against soft. The faint taste of… cherry? Short mustache hairs poked at Shouta's cupid's bow, tickling at his cheeks as he pressed a hand against Hizashi's back in between his shoulder blades. So sickly sweet. His husband, a man clothed with the sun, with the moon under his feet and on his head a crown of stars. Ethereal.

Moving his hand upwards to the base of Hizashi's neck, the curly head gave a few curt taps against the skin. Squeezing softly after realising that his husband did not get the memo. A small shiver racked its way though the blonde as he pulled away from his lover's lips. Pouting at Shouta as he rolled onto his back to lay beside the curly head, hands quietly finding each other, pinkies locking together. Shortened breaths grew deeper as the air around them swooshed leaf litter across the grass. Autumn began to lay its claim as green leaves were tinged bright yellows and mellow oranges in the midday sun.

Shouta sat up abruptly as two pairs of black wings flew in his peripheral vision. Tearing his pinkie finger from his husbands to excitedly smack his hand against his stomach. The straw haired man sat up, confused, following his lover's outstretched arm to where he was pointing. Eyes squinting against the sun. Ravens. Flying parallel to each other. Quick ascension and dramatic drops. Synchronised flapping of wings as they seemed to play a game of mimicry in the air.

The ebony head was practically vibrating with a child-like excitement, “That's us as ravens. Do you know what they’re doing?” not a smirk, but a smile so filled with joy plastered across his face.

“I don't wanna’ be a raven. I like being your songbird and you’re my starling.”

“That’s us as birds then.” Shouta turns his head with a look of what Hizashi can only assume is mild annoyance, “Anyways. It's a courting dance. They’re flirting with each other. All the fancy dives and turns, a trust that the other will be coordinated. The synchronized wing beats too. They’re strengthening their bond. They mate for life, you know?”

“Oh, that's adorable. I take it back, we can be ravens.” Hizashi swung his legs under himself, moving into a crouch before coming to stand. Moving in front of his husband, offering out his hands to him, “C'mon, let's go join them!”

Taking Hizashi’s hands, Shouta was hauled into standing position. Pressing his hands into his lover's heavily as he gained his balance. Upon confirming that the curly haired man was comfortable on his foot, Hizashi tapped him on the arm, quickly pivoting before taking off running. Shouting a taunt over his shoulder. Picking up speed as Shouta gained ground on him. Keeping his breath steady, the blonde's shoes thundered against the hard soil, blades of grass attempting to straighten out after being trampled.

Running a wide curve in the open field of grass, chasing the pair of shadows of the birds that flew above them. Wind tousled hair and ruffled feathers. The branches of trees swishing almost violently. A hard tap to Hizashi’s back, a signal to kill his momentum and turn to pursue his husband. Said husband was sticking his tongue out at him with a wide smile and a wrinkled nose just as he was pushing off to rocket away from the blonde. Jumping to click his heel to his prosthetic just to show off, a ridiculous jeer. The dark haired man slowed his pace to skip playfully, bounding like an ermine in fresh winter snow. Hands clasped behind his back as he waited for his lover to catch up as he prepared to pounce on him the second his hand touched him.

Feeling the shadow was cast over him by his lover's form. Already pivoting on his leg. A nudge to his shoulder. His husband's shocked face, tripping over his own feet as he attempted to flee backwards, the feeling of arms wrapping around his torso as they both fell to the ground. Freckled hands tried to gain purchase in the cotton of his lover's shirt. The blonde's upper back struck the soil, knocking the air from his lungs, a hand coming to protect his skull just before it met the ground. A dull thud. Glasses knocked askew. A few futile attempts at getting air into his lungs. Shouta gave a short yelp as his husband unexpectedly rolled them over. Attempting to pin him to the grass. Wrapping his leg around the other's torso, pulling him closer as he tried to maneuver his prosthetic into position to flip them back over, unexpectedly hard with one wrist rendered imobile under the weight of his lover's arm.

The curly haired man took a deep breath, begging his body to comply to his will, just managing to tip their balance. Hizashi’s breaths were coming quickly. The makeshift hair tie pulled at soft strands of hair as it slowly came loose. Baby hairs stuck to his face, threatening to poke his eyes. Struggling to peel his upper body off the ground, a strong hand against his chest pressing him back into the soil. His left hand was occupied with trying to gain an advantage over his husband’s own right hand. Shoving at a broad shoulder with his other as he felt the weight of the hand on his chest give slightly. His legs tore against the grass. The heels of his shoes attempting to push into the ground, get his pelvis off the ground so he could throw Shouta off balance. A puff of air from his lover made his eyes snap to look at his face. A mischievous smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Hizashi continued to struggle under the weight of his husband's body. The hand against his chest lifted to command the capture cloth around his lover's neck. Worn fabric pulled his wrists together, tightening as Shouta pressed his bound hands over his head. A line of fabric connecting him and the dark haired man like electricity pylons.

“Do you accept defeat?” Shouta grinned, the smug motherfucker he was, adjusting the sunglasses he wore to peer over them at Hizashi.

Hizashi raised his head in defiance, “Never!”

“Guess I’ll have to inflict my favourite form of torture then.”

Shouta lightly grazed the fingers of his left hand over Hizashi’s clothed side. Watching green eyes widen in realisation. The blonde man’s torso attempting to shy away from his hand. A playful panic fluttered under his skin. Electric and bright. A slew of giggles escaped Hizashi as Shouta targeted his ticklish points. Wiggling his hand against the grass to gain access to his husband's lower back.

A clipped shout.

Garbled curses.

A gross and unintelligible amalgamation of Japanese and English.

Begging.

“I- I- con-” Hizashi tried to breathe, each attempt getting knocked out of him, “I concede. Shou’, fuck- fuckin’ stop bro, I concede! I CONCEDE!”, the tickling had finally stopped, breaths now able to come in evenly without interruption, “Jesus Christ, man. You’re evil, you know that, right?”

“I am so very evil, songbird. Though, you could have given in faster if you wanted it to end.” His right hand deftly undoing the knot around his lover's wrists with practiced precision.

“I adore when you leave me breathless. Makes me feel so, so-, alive?”

“‘Desired’, perhaps?”

“Yeah, your desire for me makes my heart happy.” Hizashi rubbed a hand over Shouta’s forearm, feeling the hairs jump under the wrath of his cold skin.

“Good.” Shouta nudged Hizashi’s glasses back into place with a finger.

Rolling off Hizashi, Shouta moved through a crouch to stand, waiting for his husband to get to his feet. A hand came to stifle a snicker as he realised that there were grass stains all over his husband's white pants. The blonde looked over his shoulders, trying to figure out what had cracked his lover up. Pulling at his trousers, trying to get them back into place after their toussle, Hizashi’s jaw dropped in disbelief.

“Come off it now.” Outrage tensed the taller man’s frame, “Aizawa Shouta, I loved these pants. Look what you've gone and done.”

“It's not that bad.” A vicious look bit into Shouta, “I will get the stains out for you, I promise, I'll do everything I can to salvage them, okay? If I can’t get them out, I'll get you a new pair. Don't be mad, please?”

“I’m not mad. S’not entirely your fault anyways. The fun we’ve just had was totally worth losing a pair of trousers over.”

“That sounds sarcastic.”

“It's not. I had so much fun being a bird with you. Starling.” Hizashi took his husband's hand, pulling him along to walk back to their blanket.

“Songbird.” Shouta pulled their intertwined hands upwards to lay a kiss to the back of Hizashi’s hand.

After walking the short distance back to their picnic blanket, their pair settled back onto the coarse wool, undoing the laces on shoes and releasing the vacuum that kept Shouta’s prosthetic on. Placing the carbon fiber socket and blade on the edge of the blanket along with the various residual limb sleeves. Three shoes neatly lined up on the grass. Pulling various bits of food from the bag and placing them out in a wide spread on the blanket. Two plates and a set of cutlery each. Opening the plastic containers that held their pre-made bento. The white rice, more lukewarm than steaming with heat. Shrunken greens packed neatly into their section and doused with a smattering of sesame seeds. Grilled salmon for Shouta. Chicken karaage for Hizashi.

Chopsticks coming to battle playfully over the last dumpling in a ready to eat set that the blonde had picked up. Hizashi successfully managed to get ahold of the dumpling. Leaning over the spread of food to get his face closer to his husbands. Pulling open his mouth with his non-dominant hand, gently placing half of the dumpling between his lover's teeth, before biting the exposed half. Lips brushing gently. A wild blush crept up Shouta’s neck and face, he averted his eye, chewing quietly. Heart beating wildly in his chest. This man, he swears.

Picking at cheeses and crackers. Chocolates and berries. Sticky slices of persimmon were delicately cut with immaculate precision, not a centimeter of wasted fruit. An american bakery style cookie, a standard chocolate chip, outrageously sweet in comparison to the natural sugars in the fruit. Chunks of milk chocolate protruding from the dough. A crunchy exterior that snapped lightly as the cookie was broken into pieces. But an inside that literally dissolved in their mouths, chocolate melting, coating taste buds, getting stuck in the fissures of back teeth. A passing comment from the dark haired man that his Ma in laws cookies were the best, but this was a close second. A gentle hum of agreement from his lover.

The playful yells of children littered the air. Scuttling pairs of feet racing up and down the length of the field. Some modified version of bullrush or stuck in the mud from what Shouta could tell. A collective outrage from the youths as the sun dared to hide behind puffy clouds, their attention swapping to the small creek that ran parallel to the field, lighthearted shrieks as they waded in the frigid calf deep water. Sunglasses were pulled off and placed back into their case. Tucking away their rubbish into a crumpled plastic bag. The two men bushed crumbs off plates, wiped cutlery down until it could be washed later in the evening, putting everything away more systematically than it had been put in.

Hizashi's hands gently pulled at the makeshift rubber band hair tie. Cringing as sharp pinpricks of pain stabbed his scalp. How both of them had foregone and then forgotten to bring a hair tie eluded him. Pulling his mid-thigh length hair through each loop and twist, mindfully untangling each snag and catch, enlisting the help of his husband too. Finally managing to coax the demonic tie from his hair, Hizashi shook out his roots with his hands, visible relief flickering across his face. He tucked his hair behind his ears, looking up to glance at his husband mid movement, watching the way his husband's eye followed his hand as it pushed his hair into place.

Extending his legs out in front of him, Hizashi made a small triangle, arms reaching to pull the dark haired man to him. Pushing his hands and foot into the blanket, Shouta lifted his hips over the blonde's leg, settling with his head resting against the other's lower stomach looking up at him. Curling his arms under knees, silently asking them to hold him close and dear. The gentle pressure easing the dull ache that had settled in his limbs.

“You alright, dearest?” Hizashi asked, hands coming to scratch at his scalp.

“Yeah, I think,” Shouta sighed at the genial sensation, “my body's just so annoying sometimes. Y'know it's like: ‘Oh, you've stopped what you're doing? Time for pain. This is the consequence of your merriment and joy. A wall of bricks slamming into every joint and crevice of your body.’”

“You didn't bring any of your pain meds with you, did you?”

“Nope.” Shouta popped the ‘p’ excessively, lips pressing against each other into a flat line.

“Anything I can do?”

“Uhm. Keep your hands in my hair and if you're comfortable with it considering, the whole being out in the open situation, having weight on my chest would help.”

“One or both legs?”

“‘Zashi you don't have too, it’s awkward, it’s fi-”

“I want to. It's not awkward. One or both?”

“B- both.”

Shouta felt Hizashi's pelvis tilt backwards underneath him as his lover's linen covered calves came to rest across his chest. The slight slope of the ground allowed for the loose cross legged position to be comfortable. A slight core workout, but that was nothing compared to the blonde's desire to make everything more bearable for his husband. The slowing rise and fall of his chest with each breath the curly haired man took. Watching the others' dark eyes flickering around as it found an interesting weave of branches and leaves to watch bristle in the wind.

Hizashi lifted Shouta’s head slightly, pulling trapped curls out onto his stomach, fingers twisting at semi-defined spirals that spilled like ink over his sides. Softer than it usually was but still coarse.

“You have so much hair.” Hizashi mused, “It’s so thick. It doesn't even look that thick but it is. My entire head of hair is like a fifth of yours.”

“Good genetic lottery I guess,” Shouta hummed.

“Speaking of, I- I think I'm ready to talk.” Hizashi paused, squirming in the silence, “About why everything that happened earlier happened.”

“I’m listening, songbird.”

Hizashi consciously breathed, allowing his diaphragm to pull air into his lungs, holding it, counting, letting the breath flow gently from parted lips. A few monitored breaths and he still felt like he was about to die. From what? He didn't know. Shame? Embarrassment? Mortification? Potential judgement? Body flushing with a heat he couldn't control. Hands shaking as they started to braid dark hair aimlessly.

“Okay, here goes. Way way way back before quirks happened, our families, both Ma and Mum’s sides, had genetic hearing loss specific to the male side of the family. Meaning it was carried on the Y gene. There was a case where we had an intersex ancestor who presented female at birth but also carried a Y gene and therefore was also hard of hearing. But that's besides the point.

Anyways, Ma and Mum are both 2nd generation quirk havers, so when they did IVF, they also opted to remove the genetic material from the sperm to add either Ma or Mum’s depending on who was gonna carry the baby. You know that Ma’s quirk is to do with voice and Mum’s quirk is to do with amplification, obviously so you can see how I ended up with mine.

And now you’re wondering, what does this have to do with hearing loss, bear with me. As quirks themselves were so new to the field of medicine, they hadn't done many karyograms on people who have genetic conditions. So, scientists hadn't made the discovery that sometimes the quirk gene, as it’s a mutation, does random shit like latching onto genetic conditions, fusing with them and presenting there. Which is what happened with my quirk. The easy to understand way of putting it is: if I lose control of my quirk, so quirk accidents, or use it too frequently at extreme volume or vibration, I run the risk of sudden or gradual hearing loss eventually leading to complete deafness. My quirk essentially exacerbates the symptoms of what would have just been Sensorineural Hearing Loss. But, ah, I found that information out the day after-,” Hizashi’s voice softened, barely a whisper to him, “the day after Oboro died.”

Hizashi raked out the braid that he had done along the side of Shouta’s head. His hands rubbing at his arms, attempting to self soothe, unable to look down at his husband who would inevitably be looking at him with pity in that beautiful sinkhole of a seeing eye.

“Ma had already scheduled an appointment as getting karyogram results takes about a month and we’d been notified that the results had come back in the beginning of the week. But, uhm, as you can imagine, I wasn't doing so well, ah, at the time. I blamed myself, a lot, for what happened that day. That building shouldn't have crumbled. But it did.” Hizashi’s body shook as a shiver went through him, fingers draining of their warmth as limbs went heavy. Swallowing dryly, “I was dragged to the clinic, kicking and screaming, until I was gagged, and had all the same tests that I had to do today done, and some, in- invasive procedures that I was forced under anesthesia for. Then when I was awake, I was told that I’d permanently damaged my hearing during the accident. That- that I only had about sixty-two percent of my hearing left, to quantify it, and that it would continue to degrade suddenly or gradually depending on my quirk use. There's no cure. The only thing I could do was give up on being a hero.” The blonde smiled weakly, tears brimmed his eyes, a soft blink had the left side painted with a singular shimmering line, “But, I couldn't. I wouldn't give it up. I still don't want to.”

Shouta watched the tears that rolled down Hizashi’s face. It was like he was watching his sun slowly flickering. Ready to burn out. Leave the world in darkness.

“Ignorance can never truly last though. As of today’s results, I've got less than 40 percent left. I've lost the ability to hear high frequencies completely. I can't hear anything much above 2,000 hertz. When people talk quietly it's like they're mumbling. I can't make out the words. I won't be able to hear birdsong anymore. Won't hear the doorbell. I won't be able to hear someone call my name in a crowd. I’m cursed. Cursed to live in silence. With only the defective hissing of my ears and the sounds of my thoughts rattling against my skull. I’m going to have to give up hero work if I want to keep what I've got left and I can't stand it. I'm afraid. I'm afraid I'm going to be no good for anything anymore.”

Hizashi stroked at his husband's jaw. Finally plucking up the courage to look at the man resting on him. A sob wracked through him as he saw pity in his husband's understanding eye. Fingers coming to wipe the tears that had leaked from the dark haired man’s left eye.

“Don’t cry, Shou’, I can't change my, my past.” Hizashi hiccuped as he tried to force his breathing to even.

Shouta moved his lover's calves from off his chest, flipping onto his stomach to pull the other into a tight hug, "But, you shouldn't have had to have gone through all that alone. It's just cruel.” Looking up at the blonde, trying to read his face, “Why did you never tell me any of this?”

“Shouta, we were both traumatised from Oboro’s death. If I told you that I was blaming myself, the same way you did back then, neither of us would have been as okay as we are now. You got therapy. I didn't."

“We have both suffered a lot, Hizashi, even though we pretend we haven't. Yet, I still adore you for all that you are. I know that my love cannot re-write your history, nor yours mine. But there is a point where we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.”

“Easy for you to say.” Hizashi spat, “At least you can see all of your wounds.”

Shouta finched, a taken aback look with hurt in his eye, “Th- that’s not true.”

“I thought you understood how I was feeling. H- how vulnerable I've just been with you. And you have the audacity to go and say something like that.” The blonde forced his husband's arms off him, moving backwards before getting onto his feet. Blades of grass crushed beneath his soles as he turned on his heel to walk away from his lover. Hizashi bristled as hands grabbed at his ankle. “Let go of me. Now. Shouta.”

The fingers around his ankle tightening as he tried to shake him off, "Don't go where I can’t follow. I can't chase after yo- you if you run. Please.” Loud enough for Hizashi to hear the desperation in the other’s voice. “I- I-, please don't leave me here, I- should've just listened. I’m so sorry, Hizashi. Plea- please d- don't leave me.”

Shouta inched himself forward. Nose sniffing as he tried to hold onto his universe. Pressing his face into his husband's leg. Tears painted the white linen as he sobbed. Desperately trying to curl himself around his lover's leg like a koala. Begging for him to forgive him. Not having meant to upset him. A thought that should have stayed inside his mind. He was going to be alone all over again. He’d not been alone since before starting at UA. His breathing came shallow, frequency as fast as the thoughts in his brain.

He was going to be abandoned again.

He was sure of it.

The firm pressure of hands against his shoulders brought Shouta out of his spiral just slightly. White knuckled grip loosening from around Hizashi’s ankle as the blonde knelt in front of him. A hand coming to cup his face. Green eyes meeting his own dazed eye. He’d really fucked up. And yet this idiot still loved him. Was concerned for him. Cared for him. He’d been asked a question? Feeling cold fingers intertwining with his own. Head slowly turning to look at their hands. Blinking slowly. Arms wrapped around him. Familiar citrus soap and laundry detergent. Warm sandalwood perfume. Safe. Home. Hizashi.

A sharp inhale, “Fuck. What happened?”

“Shutdown?” Hizashi responded flatly.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Its alr-”

“No! It's not alright. I shouldn't have said that.” Shouta seethed, “I shouldn't have dismissed your feelings like that. You were being vulnerable about something really sensitive and I just went and said that. I'm horrible.”

“Don’t say that, you're not, Shou’. You do, however, need to calm down. C’mon, hand on my chest, breathe with me.”

Hizashi picked up Shouta’s wrist, placing his hand on his chest, mirroring the action with his own hand. The blonde did his best to breathe evenly. Monitoring his husband's breaths. Each shuddering rise and fall of his chest. The little hiccups that the ebony haired man tried to keep down as they escaped from his throat. Snaking his hand underneath the scarf around his lover’s neck to the pulse point on his throat. Glancing at his watch as he counted the beats. The dull throb of the artery under his fingers comforting.

The straw haired man spoke in a small voice, “Starling. I think I might need to go to therapy.”

“That’s okay.”

“But, I thin-”

“No ‘buts’. If you've thought that more than once you need to go. Everyone needs someone to talk to on occasion, even heroes.”

“You are as wise as a serpent yet as harmless as a dove, Shou’.”

“Oh pfh. Flattery won't save you from this conversation. However, I can come with you the first few times, hold your hand, if you want.”

“Yeah. I think that's a good idea.”

Hizashi moved back over to their blanket, white pants even further stained with grass and dirt at the knees. Flopping face first into the coarse wool. Hair splaying out like a pair of golden wings against his back. Faintly hearing the heavy thud of his lover next to him, leaning up on his elbows to look at him. Smiling softly as their eyes met.

“We’re so stupid sometimes.” Hizashi chuckled in light disbelief,

“We’re really bad at having serious conversations.” The dark haired man smirked, humour dancing behind his eye with raised eyebrows.

“Agreed.”

Hizashi’s hands found the grass at the edge of the blanket. Noticing a small patch of weeds that looked like miniature daisies. Pinching at the stems, gathering a pile into his free palm, white and pink petals bright against the tan of his skin. Tucking his legs under himself to lean over his lover, Hizashi wove the daisies into the mess of curls that encircled his husband's head. Exploding stars in the dark night sky. Yellow cores frilled with white, pink, pinkish white? Flowers are odd little things. The only starry night Hizashi ever needed to see ever again was the picture in front of him now. His husband grinning at his antics with such fondness behind his eye. Shouta wanted to kiss him. But he wouldn't dare move, fearful of destroying his lover’s artwork. The blonde shifted onto his stomach once again, draping himself over his husband as he softly ran a thumb over his husband's lower lip. A question. A nod.

Forgive me? A gentle bringing together of their lips.

Shouta’s arms wrapping around his back. Always.