Chapter Text
Ding
?
Ding
……
Ding
Your hand crawls along the kitchen table, puttering about on the wooden surface until you find your phone. Nails catch, and you drag your device close as it lets out another notification. Your other hand slides your tea mug closer to your chest, and you slump in your seat as you swipe your thumb against small bumps at the automated voice messaging option.
[NEW TEXT MESSAGE FROM: UNKNOWN]
...Spam?
Those who knew your number knew to either leave an audio message or directly call you. It wasn’t like you gave your number out to anyone, so who else but spam?
Ding
You jut out your lower lip.
Spammers usually called.
You tap a button, and the automated robotic voice echoes in the quiet lull of your Sunday morning.
[MESSAGE FROM: UNKNOWN]
[UNKNOWN: Is this Y/N?]
You scrunch your brows. The audio-messages continue.
[UNKNOWN:This is Kayama, I came over the other day for the kittens!]
The robotic voice butchers the pronunciation of her name, but you decipher it nonetheless.
[UNKNOWN: I figured I could send you some updates on Romeo and her kitties!]
Oh.
Your heart tugs for just a moment as you remembered the fat furball and her adorable cooing as she left your home.
[UNKNOWN: Aizawa gave me your number -winking emoji-]
The tugging stopped.
Dumbstruck, you raise your head and stare up at nothing before scrunching your face.
He has your number?
You don’t even have his, so how did-
Ding
You turn back to your phone.
Ding
[PHOTO FROM: UNKNOWN]
Ding
[PHOTO FROM: UNKNOWN]
Wait -
Ding
[PHOTO FROM: UNKNOWN]
Ding
[PHOTO FROM: UNKNOWN]
Good lord.
You scramble, the unrelenting notifications blowing up your quaint morning as you begin to try and dictate a message back.
[YOU: Hi, can you -]
Ding
[PHOTO FROM: UNKNOWN]
The notification interrupts your dictation, forcing you to clear your throat and restart.
[YOU: Hi Kayama, I can’t - ]
Ding
[PHOTO FROM: UNKNOWN]
Lips pursing, you stop all motions as you’re once again interrupted, finger hovering over the mic option. When no notification pops up for another minute, you restart.
[YOU: Hi Kayama, I -]
Ding
[PHOTO FROM: UNKNOWN]
“OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!” You shove your mug back, drops of lukewarm tea spilling over at your annoyance and splattering against your wrist. Your kitchen chair scrapes back as you abruptly stand, feet slapping against linoleum tiles as you scuttle to your front door. The phone continues to chime in your grip as you shuck your slippers on and throw your newly reinforced door open. One stumble over your threshold and a few yards later, you’re rapping your knuckles against your neighbor’s door.
The knocking doesn’t stop until you hear shuffling from beyond the door, and you finally cease your relentless beating. Squeezing your phone in hand, the door unlatches and swings open, sending a small gust of air past you. A small frown overtakes your features when your phone lets out another chime.
“L/N,” Aizawa’s guttural voice rasps as if he had just awoken. “It’s seven in the morning on a Sunday. What - ”
You cut him off, thrusting your chiming phone into the direction of his face. He grunts in retaliation, vexation practically rolling off him in waves.
“Stop her, please.”
The phone chimes again and there’s a moment where you think he’ll just leave you hanging as you continue to dangle your device in what you assume is the general area of Aizawa’s face, but he surprises you when he instead takes your phone from your grip. You listen to him shuffle in place and there’s a distinct sound of him sliding his finger against the screen of your dinging phone, no doubt reading the messages Kayama had been bombarding you with. You resort to rubbing at the palm of your other hand as you patiently wait for him to do something .
There’s a small beep , followed by the familiar sound of forward dialing on the speaker.
Click
“Why, good morning L/N! Have you been enjoying the - ”
“Stop sending her pictures, Kayama.”
There’s a pause, and you think you’re just overthinking it but there’s just a sense of smugness pouring over the phone as Kayama finally registers who’s speaking.
“Oh, morning to you too, Aizawa! Spending the morning with your neighbor, I see?”
You have no words, resigning yourself to listen to your neighbor release a deep sigh.
“Do you care?”
It takes you a second to realize he’s mumbling at you. Your head tilts in silent question, before understanding what he’s getting at. “Oh, go for it. Please,” you hiss back, waving your hand dismissively.
It’s too early to deal with strangers.
“Was I bothering the two of you? I’ll hold off and give you some alone time - ”
“She’s blind, Kayama.”
Silence.
You wonder if you missed the sound of her hanging up.
“Oh! I see, sorry about that sweetheart! Would audio messages work better?”
You blink, a bit taken aback by how easily she bounced back from the revelation. “N-no,” you stumble. “I mean yes. It would.” ”
Out of Aizawa’s...friends, she had taken the news quite well, to your surprise.
There’s an awe of disappointment over the line. “It might be a little more difficult in sending you photos, but I still think you should know how she’s doing -OH!”
You jump at Kayama’s gasp of realization, and you think you also hear a sudden shuffling of clothes from your neighbor.
“Why don’t you visit?”
Visit.
“Ah,” you dig your thumb into your palm. “I’m not sure - ”
“You can come over today, if you’re not busy! She’s been a moody little thing, I think seeing you could give her a positive attitude change.”
There’s a tiny buzzing forming at the back of your head, but the memory of Romeo purring in your arms nights ago and the fluffiness of her fat belly rolling through your fingers overlap the feelings of...feelings.
You’d have to make your way to a sort-of-stranger’s house.
But you’d see Romeo.
But you would need to traverse in an unknown part of town, blind.
But , you could smush Romeo’s toe beans. And her kittens’ toe beans.
But -
“I’ll think about it,” you finally blurt out, surprising yourself at the force the words spew out.
Why.
Why did you say that?
Mew
That’s why.
You vaguely register Kayama squealing over the line, cooing about passing along her address if needed. As you mumble out a thank you, Kayama leaves you with one more note.
“Feel free to come on over after your time with Aizawa! You’re just a sweet pea and I can’t imagine the last time he’s gotten any - ”
“BUH!” Your face flushes immediately, not expecting the crass words from Kayama, and you swing your hand out as you exclaim a poor version of a good-bye. As your hand strikes out, you can hear the beep of your neighbor ending the call.
But you’re too slow at stopping yourself, hand still swinging down.
You slap the phone out of Aizawa’s hand, shucking it to the ground and can only listen as it clatters onto the hard floor surface of the apartment complex hallway.
Wh -
Why did you do that you stupid, awkward -
“That was unnecessary.”
You sputter, face burning brighter at your neighbor’s incredulous tone. “I can see that!”
Poor choice of words.
You crouch, patting at the cold ground as you search for your phone. Your neighbor lets loose a sigh, and you hear a rustling of clothes as he lowers himself to your height. A moment later you feel a light touch on your groping hand and you jerk, something plastic-y nudging your fingers. With a quick prod, you gingerly take the offered phone, assessing that it had survived your takedown with no tangible damage.
Cheeks burning as if you laid on asphalt on a summer day, you stand and clear your throat. “Thanks. I couldn’t stop her.”
“There’s no stopping that type of person,” Aizawa merely grunts back.
Your mouth forms a tight-lipped grimace, not knowing what else to say.
Awkward.
“Well,” you struggle. “I’ll leave you back to sleeping, then,” you end with a lame wave, shuffling back and focusing on not tripping over your feet.
“You’re not actually going, are you?”
You stop, returning his inquiry with your own questionable expression. “Huh?”
“You’d have to cross town to get to her place.”
“Oh,” you blink.
Then blink again.
“So?”
“You - ” your neighbor sounds almost appalled at your aloof response. “Did you forget the situation you’re in?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve walked alone in a new area,” you frown. You figured as much, and as uncomfortable it is to scope your way through unfamiliar territory…
You really.
Wanted.
To pet.
The fat cat.
You missed Romeo.
Was it normal to feel this way about an animal? Oh, jeez, are you turning into a cat-lady? Those stereotypical homebodies living at home with twelve cats who wail at their owner for food in return of possible cuddles and warmth and -
That doesn’t sound too bad, actually.
“I’m not talking about that,” Aizawa’s annoyed voice snaps you out of your internal musing. “I’m talking about the bounty. You’re a walking target if you leave in the middle of the day.”
Right. You nearly forgot.
The past week had been so uneventful (sans the Yamada incident) to the point that the fact you were a target had been pushed back to the least of your worries. It’d been quiet.
You liked the quiet.
But he had a point. You might’ve grown to be a little too lax.
Mew
“I want to go,” you childishly counter.
“You shouldn’t.”
“But I can.”
“You’re going to get discovered and attacked.”
“I’m 99% patched up and ready to go. I can deal.”
“You’re in danger.”
“I’m a hero. I’m always in danger.”
“You’ll cause more problems than you think if you go.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to be seen and engage, rather than wait on our butts for who-knows-how-long and have them make a move?”
Aizawa grunts, cutting himself off from responding to your counterpoint. You push on, taking advantage of the momentum of catching him off guard.
“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather deal with this quickly than wait for the rest of my life as a target by a small-time thug group,” you fold your arms. “Doesn’t that sound like a logical thing to do, Aizawa?”
You gnash at the inside of your lip as silence ensues. He doesn’t respond, and you think you’re imagining the sound of the gears inside his head churning.
“Fine.”
The corner of your lip twitches up.
Easy.
“I’m coming with you.”
Your cheesy grin cracks and you freeze. “Wait, what?”
Not that easy.
-----
It’s bright outside.
“If you’re going to try and lure them out, having me accompany you would create a better outcome.”
You squint. “Where’d you get that idea?”
Sounds of traffic crossing the streets buzzed around you, jumbled with the chatter of pedestrians making their way to their morning errands.
“You said it yourself. Get seen, engage. The more visibility, the more villains we can apprehend.”
You gnaw at your lip, face scrunching tighter as he finishes with one last statement.
“It’s the logical thing to do.”
“I just wanted to pet a cat.” You stubbornly shove your shades back into place, saving them from their descent down the slope of your nose.
“Mumbling won’t get you anywhere.”
A low hiss wheezes out from your gritted teeth. You refuse to respond to his unnecessary snark, instead picking up your speed on the cobbled sidewalk. Ignoring your neighbor’s sigh and his own increasing footfall behind you, your lips curl into a minute frown as your support band hums rhythmically against your surroundings.
It’s way too bright.
And there’s a lot of people outside despite it being a Sunday.
And...
A huff escapes you as you narrowly dodge a lightpost, support band humming loudly against the obstruction.
You have no idea where you are.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Huh?” Instinctually, you pick up your head, focus drawn to the sound of sluggish footfall and the smell of familiar laundry detergent passing you. Aizawa stepped away from you and the apartment complex grounds before stopping in his tracks.
“I know where she lives. There’s no need for a GPS.”
Slowly, you lower your phone that had begun asking for your destination address. Lips puckering just slightly, you arch a brow. “Are...you sure?”
A buzzing began in the back of your head.
“Just follow - just stay close.”
“Turn here.”
You turn the corner.
“Not - hey. Not that way. Go right.”
You spin a 180 and make another turn.
“Your OTHER right.”
You stop in your tracks, lips pursing as you turn to your neighbor following after you. “That was a right.”
“You were going the wrong way. That wasn’t a right.”
“I think I know my left from right.”
“You’d have better luck if you followed after me, rather than walking on ahead.”
A small scowl overtakes your features as the sound of the community increases with the passing time. “You walk too slow.”
“There’s no need to - ” An annoyed, deep sigh from your neighbor washes over the two of you, and your frown deepens.
His grumpiness had grown since you left the apartment complex, climbing up a notch whenever he had to divert you into the right direction.
Which was pretty often.
You felt a little bad.
But.
It’s not your fault he dismissed your desire to use your GPS everytime you started digging for your phone.
“Knock it off. I know a shortcut.”
It’s not your fault that your nerves were frazzled at the new streets and surroundings while not being able to use your devices as a crutch.
Causing you to walk faster than normal.
Faster than a blind person should be walking - wait, shortcut?
Your aggravated march slows to a stop. Aizawa can be heard stopping a few feet behind you as well.
You have no idea of where you are.
He took you on a ‘shortcut’.
Oh god. Is he secretly going to kill you?
Pro hero by night, murderer by day?
Did he finally have enough of you as a neighbor, and of you knocking on his door at weird-flipping hours?
God dammit, Romeo. You and your fat-pregnant-meowing-ass -
“What’re you doing now?” An exasperated grunt lets loose from your neighbor, and you rigidly, robotically, turn your focus to him.
You could practically ‘see’ it. His annoyance. His growing annoyance. Growing to an unbearable height where he’d unleash his grumpy terror and slice your throat -
Stop. Stop it, stupid.
“I’m sorry,” you finally blurt out.
Your outburst seems to surprise Aizawa, momentarily stalling him and giving you enough time to truck on through.
“Look, I’m sorry for pissing you off and making you go through and involving you in - in this ,” you gesture quickly between your neighbor, you, and the sky - which, to be honest, you’re not sure why you’re including upstairs. “If you can just tell me how to get there, or at least the address, I can make it on my own.”
“What? I’m not mad. And I'm not doing that.”
Now you’re exasperated.
Frustrated, you throw your hands up, shades knocking askew just slightly on your face.
“Why?!” Your exclamation cuts through the air and filtered noises, and it’s then you finally register your surroundings.
A bicycle rushing past. Cars rolling by and over potholes in the street. Civilians murmuring judgmentally while walking past the two suspicious individuals disagreeing on the sidewalk.
You drop your hands, a blush starting to creep up the back of your neck. Doing your best to ignore the unwanted attention, your hand dives into your pocket and you thrust your phone at Aizawa.
“Give it. Please.”
More murmuring.
“A little early to be asking for someone’s number, don’t you think?”
“She’s got some fire.”
“But he looks...like a hobo?”
“Shh! Stop staring!”
And...now it looked as if you were hitting on a random man, harassing him for his phone number.
The blush erupts to your ears.
Finally, finally , your companion speaks, breaking the extremely awkward silence.
“No.”
“Aizawa you crack-head, you have to be able to see that you’re making things more difficult - oh.”
You’re dumb. So dumb.
You still have Kayama’s number in your phone. You could just call her for the address.
Win.
A voice in the back of your head cackles.
As you dig at your pocket for your phone, you don’t recognize the distance between you and your neighbor closing. It’s only when he’s a foot in front of you do you stutter, moving to step back from the sudden movement. But you fall short, a barely audible squawk of surprise and indignance escaping you as a large, calloused hand grabs at your arm. Aizawa tugs at you, pulling you against his torso to tuck you in uncomfortably close. Your cheek smushes against his chest, shades sliding crookedly against your nose as you stumble against the taller man’s side.
An emotion you can’t describe other than being appalled takes over as you try to pull back and smack at your neighbor’s warm body. Your effort is made in vain, as Aizawa suddenly spurs forward and drags you with.
“Would you quit - ”
“Quiet,” Aizawa cuts you off, hissing back in his own guttural way. His firm grasp prevents you from squirming as the two of you march down the cobbled sidewalk, your support band humming in its own confused plight at the close contact.
“What - ” You cut yourself off as you stumble over your own feet but instead of the predicted fall, you’re smoothly pulled upright by your neighbor and continue to move. “Look, if I knew your ego would be so offended that I’d trust a phone over your own directions - ”
“We’re being followed. Keep moving.”
Followed.
Your support band continues to hum incessantly.
Sound waves bouncing off of Aizawa.
Bouncing off the cobbled sidewalk.
Off the telephone pole to your left.
Off the pedestrians walking in front of you.
Behind you.
Around you.
Where?
You increase your sense of hearing a few notches.
“Momma I want that one!”
“ - I was so close that I could practically smell All Might!”
“Do I really want to spend that much on groceries today?”
“- could really use a beer right now.”
Where?
A few more notches.
Heartbeats.
So many heartbeats.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Too many.
“Where? ” You finally hiss, jolting out of your stupor after another near-stumble.
“Behind us - don’t look .”
“Very funny,” you grumble at the same time Aizawa sighs, readjusting his grip after your meager attempt to swivel your head towards your stalker’s direction. “I was trying to get a better sound angle.
“I highly doubt you’d be able to hear anything with these many people around.”
“It’d be easier if I wasn’t your conjoined twin.”
“There’s - ” He makes an indignant sound, rumbling against your body. “There’s too many civilians here for us to do anything. We move to another area and plan from there.”
“Move where - ”
Jingle
“Good morning! Welcome to The Busy Bean, table for two?”
Huh?
“With some privacy, please,” Aizawa replies, finally loosening his iron grip on you.
Wait.
“Right this way!”
Wait.
You feel a tug on your arm and you’re moving again, shoes squeaking against what feels like linoleum tiled floor. There’s a transition from outdoor chilled spring air to a cozy warmth from the building’s heater kicking in, tickling loose strands of your hair that had come undone from the near-frantic bustle just moments ago. Your tread differs largely from his; a confident stride versus your unhinged, overlapping shuffling due to the rough corralling.
After flurried movement, you’re plopped onto a cold seat. The coolness seeps through your pants, reminding you of the outside chilliness while you hear a small grunt emerge a few feet in front of you. Metal scrapes against the ground, and a quick patdown in your space reveals you’re sitting at a small table. A small inhale and you recognize the aroma permeating the building you’ve been hustled into.
Coffee.
Tea.
Pastries.
You barely manage to acknowledge the third person piping up, listening to them exclaim a quick, “I’ll be back with your menus!” before the pitter-patter of their feet sweeps away. Lo-fi music from above tinkers through, but silence quickly ensues between you and your neighbor.
Tentatively, as you subtly feel around with your hands at the chair and the table, you lean back into your seat.
“So…” you finally break the silence.
Aizawa grunts.
“Looks like I was right, huh?”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Yes. Congratulations on luring out our hunters in broad daylight surrounded by civilians.”
Your brow twitches behind your sloping shades. “You could’ve stayed back.”
“We don’t know what quirk they may have. They could cause collateral damage.”
“Do you see them?”
“We’re not by any windows. We’re in the corner booth.”
“What, we’re hiding?”
“I’m watching the door.”
“And what? Thug busts in, we kick their butt?”
“They won’t come inside.”
“Then why are you watching the door?”
“If you have a better plan,” growing annoyance seeps out of Aizawa’s words. “Be my guest.”
“I’m just saying - ”
“Here are your menus!”
Flap.
“Can I start you two off with something?”
You blink, then gesture to your neighbor who sighs in response.
“Just a black coffee, please.”
“Alrighty! And you, miss?”
“Oh,” you tilt your head down to where your menus were placed, then slowly rub your fingers across what feels like a laminated bi-fold.
It was smooth all-around.
Welp.
“L/N.”
“Hm?” You pick your head up.
“Do you need - ”
Something sweet fills your nostrils.
Dulcified divinity.
“Can I get the sweetest thing you have here, please?” You swing your attention back to your server, abruptly cutting off your neighbor’s question as your salivary glands begin to swell.
“Sure thing! Would you like it to be a drink or a baked good?”
A pregnant pause.
“Both.”
Both is good.
“Excellent! I’ll be back soon with your orders!” The server marches off, leaving the two of you back to where you started, silently sitting.
Lofi turns to smooth jazz. Fingers turn to the upside of the table, drumming against the surface in a staccato beat.
You...you’re not sure what to do now.
So you ask.
“What do we do?”
You listen to him sigh from across the table. “We’ll wait. There’s too much of a crowd out to do anything that won’t hurt or involve bystanders. Leave when there aren't as many people.”
“And…” you hum, then tilt your head at him. “See if the guy’s still out there then lead him to somewhere more...unpopulated?”
“Have any better ideas?”
“No,” you sigh, fingers finally resting against the table. “Though it’d be helpful to know what type of quirk they have.”
“Unfortunately that information is scarce.”
“Did you get a chance to see what they look like?
“Tall,” Aizawa sniffs. “Lanky, think there was something like a reptile tail. Saw him trying to hide around the corner down the street from where we were.”
You hum despondently in response, nudging your shades back comfortably on your nose. “Are we sure that he’s part of the group hunting us?”
“Do you know of any other pedestrians with a tail who’s used to eyeballing you menacingly?”
“Sounds like a regular Tuesday to me,” you can’t help but joke.
Awkwardness at its best.
“It’s Sunday.”
“I was making a - nevermind. How long do you think we’ll need to wait out the crowd?”
You hear shuffling from across the table before something sounding like a beep rings out. “It’s about lunchtime right now, so maybe in an hour or so.”
“Oh. Should we let your friend know we’ll be late?”
There’s a pause.
“You’re joking.”
You make a questionable hum in return. “The Tuesday thing? You just got it now?”
“We’re not going to Kayama’s after this.”
“Wait, what? Why?”
Aizawa sighs again, before you hear him shuffle in his seat. There’s a pressure moving the table just slightly, and you recognize that he’s placed some of his weight on the table. “We’re being actively hunted right now, and you still want to go see a cat?”
You frown. “I thought after we rope the villain in and hand him over to the police we could still head over,” you gesture in the air. “We’re already out this far, why waste the trip?”
“I didn’t come with you to look at a cat. I’m here because - ”
“Here are your orders!”
The added pressure on the table disperses before the sound of ceramic dishes tapping against the surface takes over. There’s three points of contact, you hear, followed with the smell of something gloriously sweet.
“One black coffee, a chocolate filled pastry, and our shop’s special drink with a little added sweetness!”
You mumble a ‘thank you’, maneuvering your hand to feel for your mug and raise it to your lips as Aizawa says something similar to the waitress, who eventually trots away.
It’s warm, liquidy saccharine on your tongue. The flavor of mocha and varied syrups coats your taste buds with sugary goodness, enveloping your soul with a sweetness almost too unbearable to savor.
Yet it wasn’t sweet enough to smooth over your own sourness.
You eventually lower your mug, placing it delicately back onto the table. The warmth from the ceramic of your drink seeps through your palms as you thread your fingers around the mug.
“So, we’re going back after we take care of the guy?”
You hear him take a sip from his own drink, the smell of the black coffee’s bitterness barely permeating the wall of sweetness you’re enveloped in. “It’s the most rational thing to do. There’s a chance the police can ascertain the rest of the group’s information from our hunter and take care of the bounty.”
You say nothing, instead taking another sip of your sugar-infused concoction.
“You have a weird fascination with this cat.”
You choke on your diabete-endagered drink.
Coughing and nearly sputtering, you shakily place your mug back down as you cover your mouth, a sad attempt at muffling your accidental success of inhaling your beverage.
“I- ” your voice comes out scratchy and lame as another small bout of coughing overcomes you. Vaguely, you hear the familiar pitter patter of your waitress stoop at your table. You wave her off, though you politely nod as you hear her place another glass on your table and listen to her explain that you now have water.
When she walks off, you finally manage to control yourself and clear your throat. “I - ” Jeez, you’ve teared up. “I do not.”
Lame.
Aizawa sighs after a moment. “You’re more concerned about the cat then your own safety.”
“Is it really that strange to wonder about the animal that gave birth in my coat closet?” Your lips turn into a pout as you raise the glass of water, taking a large sip.
“There’s just more high-risk topics that should be your number one concern right now.”
You wave him off, placing the glass to your 11’oclock on the table. “We’ll get through it. I’ve been through worse, and I can only assume you have too, as a pro.”
Aizawa only grunts, and you can only hear him take another sip and so you decide to do the same.
There’s another bout of silence, the smooth jazz from overhead continuing to play in the background.
“Are you able to hear anything?”
You blink, momentarily unaware that Aizawa had asked you a question. Without answering right away, you tune your senses and listen.
Jazz music.
Dishes clattering.
A blender being used.
Your waitress talking to another about how strange it is for her customer to be wearing a bulky -
You blink again. “Are you wearing a scarf?”
“No,” Aizawa says after a moment of silence. “It’s a capture weapon.”
“Like...a lasso?”
“No.”
“A net?”
“No.”
“So a scarf. A really strong scarf?”
“It’s not a scarf.”
“Have you been wearing it this entire time?”
“I have it on most of the time.”
Before you can ask another question, he interrupts. “Thought you read my file?”
You pause, sifting through your memories, and manage to grab a figment of the time you’re sitting at the police station with Aizawa and Tsukauchi after the kidnapping.
“I did. The quirk part, at least.”
Aizawa grunts.
“So you erase their quirk,” you point at your neck, then making a circle with your finger. “Then lasso them up?”
“...pretty much,” he says, seemingly giving up on correcting you any further.
“Oh. Neat.” In the back of your mind, you conjure up an image similar to a specific American pro hero, one who shoots string out of his wrists and swings from building to building.
But this one’s grumpy.
“What about you?”
“Hm?”
Another question about your quirk?
“How did you lose your sight?”
Woah.
You’ve gotten the question before, but you’re still taken off guard.
In the past when people would ask, another would chastise them and apologize on their behalf. Sometimes the person asking the question would realize on their own, before shamefully apologizing for asking such a personal thing from you.
But there was no other person.
There was just you, and Aizawa.
“Your file briefly describes you being blind, moreso detailing your quirk. You said some time ago that you got your hero license while blind. Does your vision loss correlate with your quirk?”
You’re not sure if you should be taken aback by him remembering such a small detail from weeks ago, or from the loaded question.
Your neighbor. Did you really want to divulge your personal history to your neighbor ?
“That’s sort of a….”
Personal question.
Personal question.
Personal question, just say it. He’d understand.
“Buy me dinner first for that kind of conversion, jeez,” you finally spit out with a nervous chitter.
Dinner.
Dinner??
The hell is wrong with -
You’re two seconds away from escaping to the bathroom when screaming from outside catches your heightened attention. Aizawa questioningly grunts at the squealing, the erratic sound steadily growing. With narrowed brows, you start to move out of your seat.
“Should we - ”
“Yeah.”
You vaguely listen to coins and something papery hit the table before your neighbor could be felt moving past you, and you quickly follow after.
RIP to the sweetest crap you’ve ever consumed. You’ll be back.
There’s shouting everywhere as the two of you head to the store’s exit, and you realize the number of people screaming has grown exponentially. The door’s bells jingles above as you step over the threshold, but you jolt to a stop as you sense Aizawa stop in his tracks. Wearily, you hover a hand over his back as you try to make sense of the commotion. You activate your quirk, increasing your sense of hearing once more.
“Villain?” You nearly shout over the noise.
He doesn’t respond. You step closer to him, but your support band hums louder before you’re narrowly dodging bodies trying to push past you.
“Aizawa!”
“Y/N - ” You finally hear him over the screaming, and feel a warm but firm grip take hold of your hand you left hovering in the air. You’re tugged to the side and close to your neighbor, support band notifying you of the decreasing amount of bodies from where you originally started. But you’re still so confused, and you’re whipping your head back and forth to discern what’s going on.
And then you hear it.
“I, AM HERE!”
It wasn’t screaming.
It was fangirling .
Squealing not made of fear, but of excitement.
Your frown takes a deeper dive, and you turn to your neighbor and repeat your earlier question, albeit more pathetically. “Villain?”
Did Aizawa just groan?
“No.”
Yes, yes he did.
"Just another...disturbance."
“What about our villain? Do you see him?”
He’s still holding your hand.
What - do you take it back? Is that rude? All he did was pull you out of the crowd -
“I don’t see him. He must’ve gotten scared off from all of this ,” Aizawa tsks.
“Oh,” you bite your lip. “Should we go looking?”
He’s still holding your hand .
“No - ”Oh thank god he let go. “If he knows we’ve spotted him, it’ll make him more weary and change how he approaches us.”
“Let him think we’re none the wiser?”
“Y- ” Aizawa clears his throat to raise his voice over the squealing crowd. “Yeah, for now. Let’s leave.”
Your support band practically screams at you as the two of you manage to squeak around the growing crowd, making your way past the jam-packed street and back onto the sidewalk. You make sure to keep as close as you can to Aizawa while avoiding his heels as you both finally remove yourself from the excitement. A minute later, you find yourselves a good distance away from the crowd with your neighbor.
“Guess our stakeout was for nothing,” you finally huff, stiff shoulders dropping in the newfound quieter atmosphere.
“We know what one of them looks like. It’s not a complete loss.”
“How optimistic of you,” you groan. “Can we just go home now?”
After a moment of silence, you hold up two fingers.
“Individual. Our individual homes. Apartments.”
Christ.
“Not yet.”
You blink. “Why?”
“We’re not far from Kayama’s.”
Wait.
“What?” You start to subtly bounce on your heels.
Is he really...
“With our stalker gone, I don’t see an issue. Her place isn’t that much farther.”
You.
You don’t understand this man.
A complete 180.
First grumpy. Then grumpier. And now he’s….he’s….
You can’t find the word to describe him just yet.
“Do you mean it?” You can’t help the childish gleam of hope seep into your words, full on bouncing on your feet.
“Are you trying to change my mind?”
You stop bouncing.
You could always go alone.
But you have absolutely no idea where you are. Even calling Kayama wouldn’t help at this point.
“Then let’s go,” Aizawa says once you vigorously shake your head. “We’re taking a left here.”
There’s a pop to your step as you turn, a gleeful grin threatening to engulf your whole face as you begin to walk.
“Other left.”
The grin drops.
Lip twitching, you spin back to your neighbor, open your mouth and -
And -
And then you -
A grunt mixed with surprise and indignance escapes Aizawa as you suddenly rush at him, hands reaching out as you find his right arm.
And then link your own arm through his.
You hold it to your side, securing yourself to his body.
Neither of you say anything.
Neither of you move.
There’s still excited chatter running through the air, around you. Behind you.
You, and your neighbor, standing stock still in the middle of a sidewalk.
Surprisingly, Aizawa is the one to break the silence.
“You’re...okay with this?”
You barely stop yourself from squeezing his arm to death out of embarrassment.
“My friend and I sometimes do this when we go someplace new together, where it can get too crowded.”
A pregnant pause.
“It makes it easier,” you say, after receiving no response.
You do this with your friend. Your female friend, whom you’re comfortable around.
The rushing warmth blooming up the back of your neck is beginning to burn.
But you’re doing it.
He’s taking you to go see the cat.
It’s the least you could do for him.
For the both of you.
For you?
Why isn’t he saying any-
“Let’s go then.”
And then the two of you start walking.
What had started out as long, mismatched strides, he had learned to shorten his tread for you. It takes a moment, but your paces match and you comfortably fall in step with one another.
And it works.
For the next few minutes, the walk is the most peaceful thing that has occurred all day since you first got that text from Aizawa’s friend this morning.
And you’re okay with it.
The warmth from his arm seeps into your own, the smell of his familiar laundry detergent and the cafe’s aroma continues to linger. His capture weapon-scarf brushes up against your cheek every once in a while, the material surprisingly smooth and more firm than you imagined. After a moment you feel him adjust just slightly, and register him shoving his hand into his pocket.
It slowly dawns on you that to anyone else, they would be seeing two people hanging onto each other as they walk, as if they were a coup-
“I’m sorry for what I asked at the cafe.”
“Huh?” You’re nearly caught off guard, concentrating on not missing a step while the burning on your neck continues to exist. “The cafe?”
“How did you lose your - ”
“I asked you a personal question, and made you uncomfortable. I didn’t realize it at the time.”
He noticed?
He noticed.
“Oh,” you let loose a breath. “That. Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it.”
“Being used to it doesn’t excuse people from overstepping.”
You blink.
He’s right.
But what’re you supposed to say to that?
“Really, it’s fine,” you finally utter. “Forgive and forget, right?”
Right.
And to be honest...you really did forgive and forget.
It’s been a recurrence, lately.
Apologize for this. Forgive for that.
Underneath that grump and rough exterior, you’ve realized that Aizawa is one to be responsible for his actions, and is sort of -
….sort of like -
…
...A softie .
That’s the word you’ve been trying to describe him as, you register, as the two of you continue to walk down the sidewalk.
Maybe, just maybe , all of the grumpiness and mixed signals you’ve observed from his behavior is just hiding what kind of person your neighbor really is.
A softie.
…
...
Nah, that can’t be right.
“I’ve been told I can be too blunt,” Aizawa says when you stay silent, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I won’t make any promises, but I’ll try to be more...attentive to my actions.”
That’s oddly...endearing of him to say. In his own stoic, monotonous fashion.
Softie?
“Besides, we’re friends now.”
Scratch that.
You stumble, but your grip on his arm prevents the fall.
Did you just hear that right? And was there a sprinkle of teasing sarcasm in what he just dropped on you?
But wait.
“My friend and I sometimes do this - ”
Behind the teasing snark, it’s a full on statement. An observation.
Friends?
Are you really?
“ - I apologize.”
“- I was in the wrong.”
- another arm wrapped around your chest, securing you and your arms down to the body behind you.
“- ...Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you finally blurt out, grasp loosening just slightly before returning to its original grip strength on Aizawa’s arm as the two of you continue your walk down the sidewalk, arm in arm. “We are.”
Friends.