Work Text:
Oboro Shirakumo likes to joke that his accident in high school made him a little stupider than before. Mic always shakes his head disapprovingly, but really he himself had started to wonder if it was true. Even after years of both subtle and forward flirting Oboro is still seemingly oblivious to his and Shouta’s romantic advances. Hizashi and Shouta had been publicly dating for almost three years now, but they’d been flirting with Oboro on and off since the last half of their first year.
Shouta had always been less forward about things like romance, putting them on the back burner in favor of work or school. But Hizashi likes to think he’d always been rather direct with the man, especially in more recent years. He remembers they’d come up with all sorts of schemes in high school trying to catch his attention.
Hizashi pulls Shouta to the side, whispering fervently in his ear. Shouta eyes him nervously. “That’s not going to work.”
“It will!” Hizashi reassures him, taking him by the shoulders and giving him a good shake. “If it’s you it’ll work!” Hizashi spins him around, shoving him towards the vending machine.
Oboro stands in front of it, busy mulling over what to buy that they all could share. Shouta stumbles forward glaring back at the boy. Hizashi waves him on, breaking into a stage whisper, “Hurry before class starts!”
Shouta can feel the nervous tension rising in his chest as he slowly approaches. Hizashi was usually the initiator of most of their ideas, coming up with plans for one or both of them to pull off in an attempt to ‘win’ Oboro over. None of them have worked so far.
The vending machine hums to life as Oboro picks something. Shouta pauses just behind him, casting Hizashi one last furtive glance before he takes a breath, tapping Oboro on the shoulder. Oboro turns to him, bag of chips in one hand, face already lighting up with a smile. Shouta’s hand twitches–– Hizashi’s words echo in his head. He raises his arm, hand falling firmly on Oboro’s shoulder. His lips creep into a painful smirk, eyes half-lidded. “Hey.”
Oboro glances at Shouta’s hand then back at him and–– totally unphased by Shouta’s tragic attempt at flirting–– smiles back at him. “Hey! Do you think I should get something else out of the vending machine? I’ve still got a bit of money left. I feel like one bag of chips isn’t enough for all of us.”
Behind them, out of sight, Hizashi collapses dramatically into the wall at their latest failed attempt. He drags his hands down his face. He’d been so sure that if he got Shouta to try it might actually work–– if it’d been Hizashi to do it it would’ve been seen as part of his normal behavior, but for Shouta it had to give off some sort of oddity to it. Oboro has always been rather oblivious to all of their plans though, maybe they needed to take a more direct approach next time—maybe they needed to do more research.
Shouta watches Hizashi with narrowed eyes, suspicion clear on his face. They’re supposed to be studying. Midterms are just around the corner and most of them could really use the studying, but Hizashi’s propped his chin up with a hand, blankly staring at Oboro from across the library table. Shouta can tell he’s plotting something.
“I think you should do one of those anonymous QnA’s on Twitter,” Hizashi says eventually, almost absent-mindedly.
Oboro looks up from his notes, expression puzzled.
Hizashi offers him a reassuring smile, leaning back in his seat, looking more present. “It’ll be fun!” he promises excitedly
Shouta glares, quirk activating to nullify the hint of Hizashi’s own quirk he can hear bleeding into his voice.
“We can all do one! It can be practice for when we become heroes! Like an interview!”
Shouta blinks, briefly rubbing at his eyes. He says nothing about the boy’s impromptu attempt, shifting in his seat. His heart flutters uncomfortably— Shouta doesn’t know what Hizashi has planned, but if it works they could finally… He does his best to quell the hope in his chest, worried he’ll only be let down again when things don’t pan out the way they want.
“How do we know people will even send questions?” Oboro asks; he seems genuinely eager about the idea, eyes lit up with excitement.
“People are nosy! There’ll always be people who send questions!” Hizashi explains, feeding off the other’s energy. “If you have trouble setting it up I can always help!” He turns to Shouta. “You know how to do it right?”
“I don’t use social media much,” is all he responds with.
Hizashi’s grin grows brighter as he scoots his chair closer. “I can show you how, then.” He slings his arm around Shouta’s shoulder, pulling them closer still. “This is gonna be fun!”
Shouta leans into the touch, just a little— a fond smile twitching at the corners of his lips.
Oboro☁️
@loudncloudy
Thread of my qna answers!!
4:26 PM · 3/13/17 · Twitter Mobile
8 Likes
Oboro☁️ @loudncloudy · 2h
Replying to @loudncloudy
“what’s your hero name gonna be?” — Loud Cloud!! 🤩
Oboro☁️ @loudncloudy · 1h
Replying to @loudncloudy
“how old are you???” — 16 :)
Oboro☁️ @loudncloudy · 1h
Replying to @loudncloudy
“thoughts on polyamory” — Love Wins!!!
Oboro☁️ @loudncloudy · 1h
Replying to @loudncloudy
“ITS ME BOY I’M THE PS5 SPEA” — KING FROM INSIDE YOUR BRAIN LISTEN TO ME BOY LEAVE THE GIRL WE DON’T NEED HER COME WITH ME AND PLAY MY GAMES WE’LL HAVE COWBOY TIMES IN SPACE DUDU DUDUDUDU— YOU NEED ME BOY YOUR FREEWILL IS AN ILLUSION
Oboro☁️ @loudncloudy · 26m
Replying to @loudncloudy
“not you quotibg that whole thing lmao” — it's my ringtone 😎
Oboro☁️ @loudncloudy · now
Replying to @loudncloudy
“do you like anyone?” — I mean yeah! 😁 I like Shouta and Hizashi a lot, they’re my best friends! Our plans are to open a hero agency together!!
Hizashi chokes on his drink when he sees Oboro’s most recent tweet, quickly shoving his phone towards Shouta. It’s been a few hours since they’d helped set up Oboro’s CuriousCat and by now the boy’s long since left for dinner. Shouta wants to deny the flutter of hope he feels in his chest–– thinking that maybe, finally , it was Oboro’s turn to confess to them first instead of the other way around. But his eyes catch on that stupid little smiley face. It glares up at him from the screen––that’s all he needs to see to understand the intention of the message.
Hizashi, however, takes the message no deeper than the question’s original context.
Hizashi and Shouta had been taking turns sending in asks along with the addition of a few random users. They’d taken a big win with their third submission and Hizashi seems set on carrying it over.
“He likes us!” Hizashi exclaims.
Shouta levels him with an unimpressed stare. “Of course he likes us, we’re his friends.”
“No! He like - likes us,” there’s a subtle hint of cockiness to his voice now.
Shouta rolls his eyes, deflating with a sigh. He wishes he could have that same, blind confidence in Oboro’s answer.
“You write it.”
“I’m not writing it.”
“You agreed to this, Hizashi.”
“That’s not fair! I didn’t agree to write it!”
“You write better than I do.”
Hizashi frowns, crossing his arms. “I’m not writing the love letter,” he huffs. “It was embarrassing enough the first time.”
Shouta raises a brow. “The first time?”
“It was so bad, Shouta,” Hizashi laments, withering in his seat.
Shouta brushes it off. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It was three pages long and I started calling his eyes orbs in the last page and a half.”
Shouta blinks at Hizashi, staring at him with a blank expression. He then turns to his backpack, pulling out a notebook. “Okay, so I’m writing the letter. Do you have any suggestions?” Hizashi opens his mouth to respond but is quickly cut off by Shouta. “Also, you have to be the one to give it to him.”
Hizashi looks at him over the rim of his glasses, eyes narrowed. ”You have to let me read it first. If it's too embarrassing I’ll make you do it.”
“If I write something so embarrassing that even you won’t give it to him we’re throwing it away and never speaking of it again.” They share a tense look before Hizashi nods tersely.
“Agreed,” he states, reaching his hand across the table.
They shake on it.
Hizashi stares down at the finished letter, pride in his eyes. “Do we sign it?”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“If we don’t it could be all mysterious!” Hizashi exclaims excitedly, “We can put a time and place and say meet us here and we can talk more!”
Shouta’s against the idea at first but Hizashi’s pouty look is all it takes for his eventual surrender.
They spend well over an hour on it. Shouta thinks the letter’s well written. It's clean, legible. It conveys everything they need it to while still keeping the mystery that Hizashi seemed so fond of. Both of them are certain—this will be the last time they’ll have to confess.
All that’s left is to deliver it.
“Oh!” Hizashi exclaims, stopping in the middle of the hall. The three of them are on their way to lunch. He’d been hoping Hizashi would be more subtle about breaking away, but he supposes that subtle never really fit the boy. “I left something in the room! I’ll be right back, y’all go ahead,” he rushes out, turning on his heel without waiting for an answer.
Shouta rolls his eyes, a smile twitching at his lips as he drags Oboro towards the lunchroom in an attempt to keep him distracted.
It should be an easy task. All he has to do is leave the letter on Oboro's desk or bag and come back.
It was simple.
At least that’s what Shouta thinks until Hizashi finds him in the lunch line, out of breath and hair disheveled.
“I lost the letter,” he whispers.
Shouta pauses, turning to him carefully. “What do you mean you lost the letter, Hizashi.”
“I dropped it somewhere,” Hizashi hisses, shuffling to keep up with him in line. “I bumped into someone while I was running back and I must’ve dropped it then but I went back and I couldn’t find it.”
Shouta breathes in through his mouth, out through his nose. “Okay, okay. We’re heroes. Everything’s fine. It’s not like we spent an hour working on it. We can just rewrite it, we can just…” there’s a pause, another breath, “I’m going to kill you.” Shouta accepts a helping of food from the lunch lady. He takes another breath. “We’ll just rewrite it,” he repeats.
They never get a chance to rewrite the letter.
In their second year at UA, when Oboro and Shouta set out on their internship, they do not come back the same. Oboro is hospitalized, comatose for three days following a villain attack he and Shouta had been caught in; he takes a direct hit from falling debris.
He lives. But just barely. Face swaddled in bandages, blind in one eye, hero career cut short before it’s even begun. His movements are jerky and uncoordinated and it’ll take months of physical therapy just to learn how to walk again, how to move on his own.
It’ll take years for the slight tremble of his hands to steady.
They don’t have years to wait.
Oboro’s parents are kind people, distraught at the news that their only son was nearly killed. They pull him from the hero course, move him to general education. He has no chance to say no.
His new classmates are nothing but strangers with eyes that stray far too often to his still-healing scars. And Hizashi and Shouta can do nothing but watch their best friend’s painful spiral into depression. He’s good at hiding it behind sweet smiles and gentle laughter but it’s easy enough to see through if you know where to look.
The accident makes Hizashi clingy; it makes Shouta more distant. Guilt-ridden and unable to bear the sight of the marks of his own failure on Oboro’s face.
There are several months where the only time they see him is at lunch, someone always busy with school or internships or hospital visits and therapy. It’s already their second year but now Oboro has to rethink everything he’s had planned for his life up until now.
Shouta, unable to bear seeing Oboro’s face wrapped in bandages, distances himself from the others, but he still clings in his own ways— sticks around without sticking too close.
But, things get better with time, get easier. The tremble in Oboro’s hands gets steadier, his body gets stronger and the tight balls of worry in their chests slowly unravel.
The end of their second year passes with little fanfare.
With the start of their third year, Oboro’s forced to rethink his future. By the end of it, he’s forced to make his decision.
In the aftermath of Oboro’s accident, Shouta and Hizashi had silently agreed that their romantic advances would be put on hold till he was better, but neither of them had ever agreed on what ‘better’ was.
Hizashi pulls the mic from the announcer's hand. He had no use for it, but he’d always been on the dramatic side. “Oboro Shirakumo!” Hizashi shouts, drawing out his name like one would for a boxing match. He points dramatically out at the crowd, not even at Oboro himself because he’d managed to lose both of his contacts within the last seven hours. “I love you!” There’s a cocky smile on his face where he’s sure that this will be the last confession they’ll have to make for Oboro to finally understand. There wasn’t much more you could do than a public confession of love at their graduation ceremony after all. He passes the microphone back to the announcer and struts off the stage with his diploma in one hand and his hero license in the other.
Shouta sighs, sinking further into his seat in sheer second-hand embarrassment. He can see Oboro from where he’s sitting, cheering wildly as Hizashi makes his way back to his seat and the next graduate is hesitantly announced.
Shouta had told Hizashi when he first introduced the idea to get back in the swing of things, but Shouta— ever hesitant to push the boy too far— had disagreed. Physically speaking Oboro Shirakumo was fine, he was healthy, partially blind but healed. His scars had faded as much as they probably would. But mentally, Shouta was still worried. Hizashi had seen the aftermath of Oboro’s accident— that’s why Shouta doesn’t get why the other boy doesn’t get it.
Oboro’s dreams had been torn from his grasp in the blink of an eye and he was left to blindly wander in the void it had left behind. For the three of them, there had been no ‘plan B’. Heroism was all that they had and Shouta doesn’t think Hizashi fully understands what it must feel like to have your entire future fall out from under you; doesn’t think he fully understands what it’d done to their best friend.
Invisible wounds were among the easiest to hide and now wasn’t the time to burden Oboro with their feelings when he was surely still trying to sort out his own.
Oboro’s new plans for the future will take him away from them. He declares he’s going to study psychology; open his own pediatric clinic. It’s a big goal but he needs something big to focus on, to reach for while Shouta and Hizashi are busy getting their hero careers off the ground.
Hizashi decides that they have one more good confession attempt before Oboro leaves–– Shouta does everything he can to talk him out of it. But, by the end of the week, the three of them are all crammed into a corner booth at their favorite restaurant to celebrate graduation.
Takemichi’s has been one of their go-to places to eat since freshman year. It was affordable and convenient, but most importantly it was the best food that any of them had ever eaten.
This was supposed to be a celebration for the three of them, but Shouta was already on edge. Hizashi had been evasive in telling him anything about what he was planning for tonight because of Shouta’s opposition to his original idea. And despite his initial excitement, he can tell Hizashi looks nervous now that they’re here. He can only hope his conscience was starting to weigh on him after all of Shouta’s pestering.
Even Oboro, bright and smiling as he is, seems off; off enough that even Hizashi has picked up on.
At first, Shouta worries that it’s his depression slinking back in–– that seeing the two of them graduate with hero’s licenses in hand was more than he could take. Because while some days it feels like Oboro’s accident had been years ago, other days it feels like it was just last week and he worries that today is one of the latter.
Oboro’s smile wavers in the slightest, ticking downwards. He looks at them softly, sadly. “Thank you for sticking with me.”
It takes a moment to fully process the words, a long fearful moment, because both of them can only make assumptions on what they believe the context is.
Hizashi is the first to respond, “Don’t… Don’t thank us for that. You know we’d destroy the world over again if it was for you.”
“Please don’t,” he laughs, wiping at his eyes. “You’re heroes now, you’ve gotta protect it.”
Shouta doesn’t know what to say. He’s at a loss for words. Oboro is sitting right in front of him. He can see the tears building in the corners of his eyes but can do nothing to stop them. Shouta’s never been very good with his emotions, let alone with other people’s.
It was supposed to be three of them walking across that stage with their hero licenses. They hadn’t planned for anything else. It wasn’t just Oboro’s future that had been ripped from his hands by that villain, it was all of theirs.
He struggles to find something to say, anything. “I–” he stumbles over the words in his mouth, “We love you.”
The other two turn to look at him and Hizashi is quick to turn back to Oboro, echoing Shouta’s confession. “We love you.”
Oboro's brows draw up, more tears building and for a moment Shouta thinks he’s said the wrong thing, that somehow he’s managed to make things even worse. Oboro bows his head, hiding his face. “You’re my best friends, you know?” he chokes out.
Shouta’s chest aches for the boy in front of him, because really that’s all they were: boys, kids. Kids who had seen too much, suffered too much. The ache is an unbearable thing, heavy as a stone between his ribcage.
“I’ll miss you guys,” Oboro murmurs.
And that’s––that’s what it’s about. In two weeks Oboro would be moving, starting college. There’s hardly a break between their graduation and the start of his first semester at university. His everything would be changing more than it already has.
Hizashi wastes no time in leaning over the table, ruffling his hair. “Once you graduate,” he decides, “let's all get an apartment together. We’ll spend so much time together that you’ll be sick of us,” he teases.
Oboro laughs, wet and rough, shooing his hand off as their food is brought to the table. “Let’s do it,” he agrees. He scrubs at his eyes with a sleeve, a smile rising back to his face.
Shouta feels himself mimicking the upward tilt of his lips. “Once you graduate,” he confirms.
Oboro nods. “Once I graduate.”
In spring of 2219 Oboro moves to Tokyo. Together the three of them countdown the days until his university graduation.
The apartment is new, but it’s even newer to Oboro who’d yet to move in while away at college. They’d all agreed on the apartment, but with Oboro only three weeks out from his college thesis he’d been unable to actually visit until now. “Hero work sure pays, huh,” Oboro whistles, looking around at all the new furniture. There are boxes shoved in the corners of the rooms, some of them still housing unbuilt furniture or packed full of the things they’d brought with them.
“It’s all Hizashi’s money,” Shouta states.
“The radio show helps,” Hizashi grins.
Oboro breaks away to explore the rest of the apartment as the other two linger in the living room. “The bed’s so big!” he shouts from the back bedroom.
Shouta sends Hizashi a look. He’d noticed it too. It was the perfect size for three people.
“Good! All your stuff hasn’t arrived yet so we’ll be sharing,” Hizashi calls, “The holidays delayed a lot of things!”
Shouta levels the man with an unimpressed look from across the counter. “What did you do.”
Hizashi’s eyes narrow. “Nothing you can prove,” then, loud enough so Oboro can hear, “I’m ordering takeout, what do you want!”
There’s a pause, then soft padding of feet. Oboro peaks his head out from the hall. “You ordering from Takamichi’s?”
Mic smiles softly at the excited spark in his eyes. “To celebrate all of us finally moving in together.”
“I want the usual then.”
“Beef or chicken?”
Oboro grins. “Beef sounds better.”
“Took you long enough to finish school. We’ve been waiting forever,” Shouta huffs.
“Hey! I graduated early!” Oboro shouts indignantly, but there’s a laugh in his voice, a smile in his eyes as he stalks over. “I’m gonna be getting my masters here just for you guys,” Oboro says, poking a lighthearted finger into Shouta’s chest for emphasis. It’d been a long while since their last attempt at confessing to the man. All three of them had been busy since graduating UA, but now that they’d all be living together, now that the radiant fire had returned to Oboro’s smile, there’d be nothing stopping them. Shouta can tell Hizashi was excited about the change–– can see the fiery determination in his eyes the likes of which he hadn’t seen since Oboro’s accident.
Shouta shifts in his seat, the barest hint of a smile curling at his lips. He could poke fun at Hizashi all he wanted but in the end, he’d be there to help no matter what crazy scheme the man manages to come up with next.
Oboro shuffles towards the bed as the other two climb in. “It’s so cold!”
“Then get in bed, dumbass.”
“Aww! It’ll be just like when we were in high school!” Hizashi coos.
Oboro pauses at the end of the bed, digging something out of his bag. Shouta eyes him suspiciously. “What are you doing? Get in already.”
“I’m putting my socks on.”
“You’ll just get hot later if you have them on while we’re sleeping.”
“I gotta have my socks on for sleepovers,” Oboro calls teasingly over his shoulder.
Shouta groans, rolling over. He stuffs a pillow over his ears, ignoring the disappointed flutter of his heart. On the other side of the bed, Hizashi feels the same disappointing ache as Oboro crawls between them, sliding beneath the covers. Once he’s settled there’s a moment of silence where no one says anything. Then there’s a sharp spike of cold, as Oboro slips one hand each under Shouta and Hizashi’s shirts. Shouta flinches away from the icy fingers on his back with a hiss. There’s a yelp from Hizashi as he half-falls off the bed, catching himself on the nightstand. Oboro laughs at them, bright and warm, pulling his hands back to him. “Don’t go falling asleep on me already, you haven’t even told me about your days yet!”
“Why are your hands so cold!” Hizashi shouts, pulling himself back up only to playfully shove the man closer towards Shouta. “Forget the socks, you need gloves!”
“Don’t push him over here,” Shouta grumbles, no real malice in his voice.
“I told you it was cold in here!”
Shouta huffs. “Hizashi always keeps it this cold.”
“Hizashi!” Oboro laughs, “You’ve been freezing Shouta out this whole time?”
Hizashi lets out a whine.“If I set it any higher he won’t let me cuddle!”
Shouta only snorts in response.
A contemplative look passed over Oboro’s face. “Well in that case–”
Shouta pushes him back on the other side of the bed with a gentle shove, holding back the smile he can feel. Hizashi accepts him back with a bark of laughter, holding him captive. “Don’t think I’ve already forgotten what you did!”
“For a psych major he’s so stupid,” Hizashi mumbles softly the next morning, the fondness to his voice evident. He’s cooking breakfast for the trio, he and Shouta still waiting for Oboro to wake up. “I’m glad he found something he’s passionate about but I do worry for his future patients,” he chuckles.
Shouta hums. “Do you think if I get down on one knee with a ring that he’ll believe me?”
“Absolutely not.”
Shouta shrugs. “I figured.”
“Maybe we just sit him down, put a /srs on the end of our conversation,” Hizashi suggests.
“Didn’t we try that already?” Shouta asks, propping his chin up with a hand.
“Did we?”
“After he left for college the first time.”
“Maybe if we have another one,”
“And what would we tell him that he’d believe?” Shouta sighs, “Oboro Shirakumo. You’ve been one of my best friends since high school, but we’ve both wanted to be more than friends with you since well before we graduated.”
“If it’s you saying it he might believe it,” Hizashi states, carefully eyeing the cooking food.
“Think so?”
Hizashi nods, adding his own thoughts, “Something, something, we’ve been trying to confess to you for years but we’re either doing something wrong or you’re just that stupid .”
“I think we’re the stupid ones for falling for such an idiot,” Shouta breathes. “I’m getting flashbacks to that letter you lost.”
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“No,” he huffs, but there’s a playful edge to the word.
“We’ll write it again!” he jokes. “Dear Oboro Shirakumo, without you,” Hizashi starts dramatically, “we would be unfinished, forever missing our most important puzzle piece. You, the cornerstone of everything we’ve done since graduating. You and your shining orbs !”
Shouta snorts, letting his head drop down to rest on his arm. He grows quiet, contemplative. “If he’d died that day,” he mumbles in the following silence, turning his face to hide in his arms. “I don’t think I would’ve survived it. Just existing in a world without him. I don’t think I could’ve done it, Hizashi. If he’d died––”
“I didn’t.”
Hizashi jerks in surprise, pan lifting a few centimeters of the stove as his head whips to where Oboro is leaning against the entrance to the hall. His hair is a mess, clothes rumpled, socks somehow missing despite wearing them to bed. Shouta cautiously lifts his head as Oboro pushes away from the wall, marching towards Shouta and pulling him into a tight hug.
“Someone brought me that letter, a few days after the meeting date that was on it. It didn’t have any names but I always had my suspicions,” he says softly. “I could never be sure though.”
Hizashi’s eyes go wide. Shouta stiffens beneath Oboro’s hold, sharing an equally bewildered look with the man.
“If it was you guys I was so sure you’d confess again, but you never did so I thought I’d gotten it wrong.”
“Never confessed to you?” Hizashi asks in disbelief, “but we– we confessed so many times. Even after we lost the letter! Graduation! Takemichi’s! Every break you had, we were there! Scheming!”
“Scheming?” Oboro’s laugh is bright and warm, “All you had to do was ask!”
Hizashi’s eyes widen further in disbelief, stunned by the sheer audacity of the words.
Shouta sighs, letting his eyes fall shut with the motion. He gently pushes out of the hug. “Oboro look at me.” The man turns to face him, blue and white staring inquisitively into black. “Go out with us, both of us.”
Oboro blinks once, twice, before he breaks into a bright, breathtaking grin. “Took you long enough.”
Hizashi stares at them slack-jawed, silent.
“Hizashi,” Shouta states calmly, “I’m going to kill him.”
He can’t really be mad though, not when Hizashi bursts into tears over the frying sausages and Oboro has to slip around to take his place with a gentle laugh. “Shoutaaaaaa,” he warbles, wiping fruitlessly at his eyes, “he said yes, he said yes!”
A smile drifts across his lips. He definitely isn’t awake enough for this.
Oboro yawns, watching as Shouta pulls on his boots.“Where are you heading off to?”
His head tilts towards Oboro, surprised to see him awake. “Had a detective acquaintance of mine ask for some help tracking down a new vigilante.” Shouta stands, walking towards him. The ring on his finger glints gold beneath the dim light of the stove. He offers him a quick brush of lips against his forehead.
“Another vigilante, huh,” Oboro teases with a second yawn.
Shouta chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, another vigilante. Now go back to bed, Hizashi’ll wake up if you’re gone for too long.”
“That’s his own fault for always keeping the thermostat so low. Karma for all the years of freezing us out,” Oboro huffs. But, he can feel sleep calling him back already, he fights to keep his eyes open. He yawns again. “Be careful.”
“I always am.”
In an apartment overlooking the Musutafu skyline, there is a single bed two sizes too large. Oboro Shirakumo crawls his way back in the middle of it, curling back up next to the half-buried Hizashi. The apartment is cold but really they never went long without warmth. Hizashi grumbles in his sleep, pulling closer to him. Oboro chuckles, the sound soft and gentle and tired. He lets his eyes drift shut.
It would be several hours before Shouta returns to them, pulling off his sweaty hero gear and crawling in beside them with a tired sort of stealth that only comes with practice.
Hizashi still wakes up to it every time without fail though, quietly welcoming him back with a mumble. They lock eyes blearily over Oboro, both briefly glancing down at the man snoring softly between them. Things get better with time, get easier. What they have here, now, was proof of that.
Oboro Shirakumo likes to joke that his accident in high school made him a little bit stupider than before. After years of continued obliviousness, his husbands have started to teasingly agree with him.
Oboro snores softly.
Shouta and Hizashi fall easily asleep beside him.