#listen this whole fic is baby gay aizawa being a fucking disaster

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Trick or treat 🎃🎃🎃🎃

Hooray! A treat for you!! 🍬🍫🎃

have an excerpt from a teen emic/rooftop gang shenanigans one-shot I’m working on :3

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There's a party, back in second year. The first one they're ever invited to – courtesy of Kayama dragging them in tow – and the last one Shouta bothers to attend.

It's crowded, which Shouta had expected. He'd been prepared to spend the night hunkered down in some remote corner while everyone else had their fill of cheap beer and socializing.

That is not what happens.

See, Shouta had expected the crowd, but he'd failed to consider what kind of crowd it'd be. Namely, strangers. Drunk strangers who are their age and easily impressed by the UA-attending hero hopefuls suddenly in their midst. It's the sort of charged atmosphere none of them – save perhaps Kayama – had experienced before, and it's potent enough even Shouta finds himself caught up in it.

Someone approaches him. Several people approach him, but only one sticks out, and so that's who he allows to stick around.

It's a boy, a year older than him, from another school. He's handsome enough, but what catches Shouta's attention is his obvious interest. In Shouta.

If Shouta were anywhere else and sober, he'd ignore the whole thing and make himself scarce. He has no need for distractions, and even less for the kind of attention he knows would come from being open about his sexuality.

Shouta is not sober. Shouta is drunk at a party among strangers, staring down the first boy to ever show an interest in him.

They end up in a closet of some sort. It's cramped and stuffy and good enough for what it is, even if his partner is handsier than Shouta thinks strictly necessary. Several enlightening, if vaguely disappointing, minutes later, they stumble back out, rumpled and prouder than probably either of them have any right to be –

And run straight into Yamada.

Yamada's lips are red. His hair is down and sticking to the thin sheen of sweat on his temples, his face flushed right up to the tip of his ears peeking through blond strands, his eyes dark enough Shouta can see himself reflected in them even in the low light.

In short, Yamada looks much like Shouta imagines he must look like himself – except there's a girl shoving her way past the door behind him, not another boy.

Shouta can pinpoint the exact moment Yamada notices this particular discrepancy. It's a single flick of his eyes over Shouta's shoulder – then back on Shouta again. Sharp, and impossibly darker.

There's a moment. Several moments, probably.

Then he punches Shouta on the arm.

"Aizawa, you DOG!"

His grin is wide, as wide as Shouta's ever seen it, lips still red and teeth reflecting every spare shred of ambient light back out into the darkened hallway with the fury of daybreak.

Shouta runs.