#god altair i'm like. i could sit here for days talking abt how much i love them but it's just

[djsouled]

there were truths in life, facts about things that could not be moved or swayed in any direction. because that was the nature of things, the way it just was ; there is a truth to hizashi's life that he lost both of his best friends in the span of a year. there is an argument, born out of anger and hurt to contradict that, to correct that truth in saying he lost them both altogether. because did he ever truly have shouta as a "best friend" when oboro was killed? was eraserhead-in-training ever living for himself, or was he living as a vessel to achieve impossible perfection? a means to correct the past by controlling the future, in white knuckles from being held onto so tightly?

that once-teenager with all his messy hair and poor sleeping and training habits had evolved into a an exact replica, only older. a tired-looking sort of man, all those poor habits now beginning to become somewhat evident in his appearance. he may not know shouta as well as he once did, and hell if he even did know him as much as he previously assumed - but he knew that familiar expression of discomfort.

he knew raven truly must’ve believed he wasn’t cut out for this new teaching gig, and getting so far out of his probably-typical comfort zone must’ve been particularly grating for him. the others did their best to bring some sort of ease of mind to him in the workplace, and the supplemental classes might've (hizashi hopes) helped, but there's still that general avoidance. that all too familiar way about eraser that only cemented after that day ; that way of turning cheek that made hizashi's very guts twist and writhe with emotion.

still, that urge to keep reaching out never really went away. it never devolved into nothingness. and he couldn't find it in himself to walk away from that desire to take up that seat again, right by his side as his best friend, if that same seat was even existent.

buuut, blondie’s not known for making the best decisions when it came to his social life, especially when it came to the one man who unmade him before anyone else. and now, hizashi was the teacher. the senior over his coworker. he took it seriously, but now he’d put his foot down in his mind and take it seriously again at a different angle : sincerity. it was blond’s fault in all his fumbling to find a common ground with a ghost, that he'd have to forget and learn again. no matter. this right here would turn it all around. 

it was time to let sleeping dogs lie. he’d learn him all over again, no matter how long it took, no matter how much whittling he'd have to do again. he'll tell him about his life, and maybe shouta would do the same. they'll exchange stories about epic fights between villains, he'll learn of a new (probable) batshit crazy schedule that shouta lives by, and in turn eraser'll have to sit and listen through present mic in all his rambling.

and so he smiles, bringing straw to his mouth to take a sip of his sugary concoction of a fountain drink. 

“ i’m proud of you, y’know. might be a bit weird to say, but i am. “ thoughtful eyes bore deep into companion, analyzing and taking note of every little movement from miniscule to overt. he doesn’t give him a chance to reply, but he does drop his volume to be heard between only the two of them amidst a busy cafe. “ eraserhead’s been making a name for himself amongst the heroes and higher-ups. talk of a high success rate, ‘one of the most, if not the most, capable nighttime heroes.’ “ voice shifts from his own to a classic news reporter’s tone, and back — he was always one to keep it light. divert attention to his true feelings with humor. small chuckle, warm and adoring.

" you're rattling the stars, out there. "

but if all of hizashi truly wasn't what shouta wanted at the end of the day, then he'd find out here and now, and only then would he learn to truly let go. maybe that would be the closure he'd need. or maybe he'd just go back to admiring from a distance, hoping that life treats his once-friend kinder.

if asked, shouta still couldn't really identify what drew them together. why he'd tolerated such a loud disruption in his life. barging in on his carefully crafted solitude with such enthusiasm it had given him a headache. why he hadn’t fended the two of them off as he had everyone else. hizashi and oboro likely wouldn’t have taken no for an answer anyway. they would have wormed their way in like their lives depended on it regardless. sometimes he still wonders if befriending him had in some way cost them all their lives. wondered if anything would have changed had he glared and ignored them until they went away.

he still loves them both so much it hurts. he’d damaged his relationship with hizashi in his retreat to protect himself. barely spoke to the other for the last two years of school and then dropped off the grid the day after graduation. that part was somewhat unintentional, but after everything shouta wasn’t going to impose himself by asking to crash with the yamadas for an indefinite amount of time and oh by the way could they help him pay for medical expenses before his spine started fusing together?

it would have been completely irrational-but knowing what he did now, after the past seven years, he might have swallowed his pride. he hasn’t expected it to have happened quite like it did. no buffer, no warning just pack what could fit in a backpack and get out. no class addressed what to do in that situation. a very lost eighteen year old with no resources other than racking up his capture rate to afford a bright downy sleeping bag. the commission didn’t look twice until they’d needed him and knew he needed them.

as always, shouta had survived. gotten an apartment, albeit not the nicest or in the best part of town, built his network and reputation on doing work quickly and efficiently. people rarely saw him coming. he somewhat reconnected with hizashi and nemuri. always ducked any curiosity about what he’d been up to with a shrug or mumble about it being classified. some things very well may have been with how tightly he locked them away in the shadows of his memory.

really he’s not cut out to be a teacher yet UA apparently thought differently. they’d pay for teaching classes so he wasn’t woefully unprepared. assured him that his underground status wouldn’t be at risk. shouta aizawa would teach. eraserhead would continue to barely exist outside of records. it still made him nervous. on edge that this could tip his meticulous balance of life into chaos. throw him in the deep end like the commission had.

seeing hizashi again, properly given they would be coworkers, had given him a nightmare. shouta is well aware he could’ve been a much better friend and if hizashi hated him they wouldn’t be meeting. but what if he fucked it up somehow. like he’d fucked up his work study or the first few precarious years of his career. if hizashi thought he was hopeless after being one of the driving factors of his becoming a hero at all-shouta would explode. or quit the job before he’d started and resume days of not speaking to anyone. he didn’t need to talk to fight villains.

the smell alone makes him regret dragging his feet enough to be late. there’s enough of a chill in the air hot food sounds delightful. “you haven’t changed at all, have you?” his voice is thankfully steady. shouta studies the other, taking in still blond hair still green eyes. still loud and distracted. he slides into opposing chair and looks around. the shop hadn’t changed much either. he swallows. pulls hair free where it had gotten stuck in scarf. “i missed you too. i…got busy after graduation.”