Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Pain is the precursor to pleasure." (Robert Greene, The Art of Seduction)

__________

"Aizawa-kun is the type who establishes in order. In the regulation of rules, policies. He uses them to guide his daily life."

"Isn't that a good thing? Logic should lay the groundwork for daily conduct."

"But there is no room for impact in routines. One will not make an impression simply conforming to another's wishes. If I became as rational as him, carefully abiding by the rules, I wouldn't retain his attention, would I? After all, isn't this why opposites attract?"

....

Toshinori was acting distant.

Shouta made the conclusion after a few days. After bits of observation led to a formulated hypothesis. And all observations he made following seemed to prove the validity of his logical conjecture.

However subtle, toned, mild this aloofness, it seemed glaring and obvious to Shouta, who was well-acquainted with him personally. Beyond personal, actually. Intimate---a more precise description of their relationship.

His lover still arranged a compact, nutritious selection into his bento box for lunch. Still messaged him a reminder to layer up for the chill. Still bid him good morning and good night.

Yet.

That day, upon arrival at the faculty office, he received the other's tepid greeting. Beyond that, the other made no further attempt to hold any conversation with him. Minus the work-related discussions. More than unlikely, it's not as if the other came to the realization that Shouta was bad at small talk, or avoided discussing the meaningless banalities of daily life.

Toshinori chatted merrily to their other colleagues in the office.

Though, no one seemed aware of the amiable and humble hero's passive-aggression.

He didn't take well to such ploys. Neither had he ever succumb to such pressure.

Yet, he couldn't deny the frequent interactions between the senior blond hero and Vlad to be an eyesore. The way the other played the deferential card with ease, humbling himself before the blood hero as he asked for tips on improving his teaching.

He fooled everyone with his humility and sincerity. That because he's the great All Might, he, in his entirety was supposed to be the paragon of goodness and integrity.

He contributed it partly to his own shrewdness that he saw through the mask, regardless of how well it fitted the other. And he witnessed his mischief, his pride, his cunning. Though, he would have never been able to discern the depth beyond the other's usual facade if he had not been his intimate partner.

He observed the other appeal to Vlad's vanity. The way he listened intently to the experienced instructor's advice nodding and smiling appropriately. No one could resist his charm regardless of what form he presented himself.
The gradual crescendo of Vlad's voice signaled his fervent passion. The other's pride must be feeding well. After all, the former Number One didn't just ask anyone for pointers.

He shot daggers at the duo from behind his desktop monitor, to warn them to keep their voices down. But because of their complete absorption in their discussion, they failed to take the subtle hint.

He frowned, brows furrowed.

"Psst. Eraser, you're staring too hard." His friend whispered from beside him.

"Shut up." He growled. And retracted his focus back to the computer screen.

"Scary! What's up with foul mood? Someone piss you off again?" The sarcastic edge in his voice, the wiggle of his brows --- all insinuations. "Let's see. What did the rookie do this time? Was he tardy? Or because he's finally taking his role as instructor seriously? Or that he's getting along with more of our colleagues?"

"Mic." He warned.

"I know he grew up and became independent too fast. It felt like yesterday when the three of us celebrated his birthday."

His friend's words bothered him. Was the other slowly losing interest in him? Was he scouting for another target, and enjoying the thrill of the chase? That because he's demonstrated his affections, that they've already slept together plenty of times, that Toshinori had been disenchanted. Because everything returned to routine and mundanity?

Or was is because…

"Did you do something to upset him?"

He retorted almost upon instinct. Immediately. "Why is it something I did?"

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. "Well. If it was something he did, you wouldn't have that neglected look on your face. Like you've been waiting for an eternity him to turn and notice you."

His face contorted in disgust. "You describe things in the most repulsive and inappropriate way."

"You just haven't looked in the mirror." His friend shrugged. "So what'd you do?"

And back to the same question. In essence, a man cannot escape the probable truth.

He rubbed at his temple as if encouraging the morning cup of coffee to kick in sooner. "I don't know."

"At least you're not denying that it is you."

He sighed. "So, supposedly it was some thing I did, what then?"

"Then, do something about it!" The other raised his voice.

A few of the staff turned to look in their direction. He felt their curious glances. Instinctively, his eyes darted to the older blond across the room.

The other talked on with Vlad. Neither of them seemed to have heard Hizashi's outburst. They probably dismissed it as ordinary occurrence.

Disappointed (he had no intention to come clean to another regarding this pathetic emotion) and irritated, he glared at his friend.

"Keep it down, will you!"

Hizashi shook his head. "And I was trying to help you too. But it seems like he's quite upset with you. This is a stickier situation than I thought…"

"…" His brows furrowed. He stared at his friend's face, waiting impatiently but quietly for him to continue. To provide some direction.

"Why don't you get him something?"

"…What?"

"Something he likes. To show him you're thinking of him, you know? Might soften him up a bit." He grinned mischievously. "Plus. You still owe him a birthday present from last time."

The awkwardness of being put on the spot last time when the three of them went out to celebrate the blond's birthday back during June resurfaced. Though, it didn't bother him as much now. After all, Toshinori never sought him out for that random item his mind was forced to conceive under pressure.

As he racked his mind for possibilities, it felt like he was searching for a needle in a haystack. Especially since he never had a gift-giving habit to start with.

"And then, how about the two of you sit down to have a nice chat? You know? Communicate on what seems to be the issue?"

"…He hasn't replied to my texts or calls…"

"Eraser, sitting down and having a nice chat means face to face. Not through text or phone."

"You think I don't know that?" He shot back, probably harsher than intended. But he knew, the other being accustomed to his peevishness wouldn't take it personally. "How do I approach him when he avoids me?"

Hizashi clicked his tongue. "Being your friend and knowing how socially awkward and inept you can be, I do feel somewhat sympathetic about your situation."

"…"

"Tell you what. I'll lend you a helping hand. But you still have to do the bulk of the work." He raised his eyebrows at him. "Communicate."

....

Having been involved in enough romances, Nemuri always boasted about how "the power of love changes people for the better" (her words exactly, and he left the grossly clichéd statement as is).

He didn't know about "for the better" part. But it sure did challenge his comfort zone.

(Aizawa clumsily buys Toshi a soft cardigan and strawberry mousse cake from his favorite bakery)

….

"Oh, so that was your idea about the gift-giving."

"That's right!" Hizashi grinned proudly.

"I figured. Aizawa-kun doesn't bother in frivolous matters such as this." A chuckle.

"But! Let's be clear! I never advised him what to get you. The cake and the cardigan were both his idea."

"I'm sure it took him time and toil to figure out the most suitable items that speaks to my preferences. However, that's still not enough."

"Huh?"

Toshinori only smiled. "The gesture itself was charming. Though, accepting those gifts would, on a deeper level, upset more balances. It would also signal to him that materials are enough to satisfy me. And 'things' are far from what I want. What we need."

….

(At a izakaya)

"Yamada-kun, let me have a drink with you."

"For real, All Might-san?!" Hizashi exclaimed. At the same time, he also asked the question Shouta wanted to ask.

He remembered during their home visits to extend the proposal of student dormitory, he had offered to buy a drink for him. And the retired hero had declined politely at that time, using his physician's orders as rationale.

So then, why was he putting his health at risk? For a colleague, of all people?

"Of course, I've been meaning to buy you a drink as gratitude for the longest time. You've treated me most kindly." His tone was sincere, and his eyes curved to upside-down crescents.

"All Might-san, remember what your doctor said about your health." Shouta warned. Then watched and anticipated his change in heart.

"He won't know if I don't tell him. Plus, I'll just take one sip." In pouring his drink, he also dismissed his caution.

Shouta's frown deepened.

Whiffing the dense tension in the air between them, the voice hero intervened, hoping to smooth the roughness.

"It's really fine if you can't, All Might-san. You don't have to push yourself. They have a great selection of non-alcoholic beers too." Hizashi quickly peeled his grip from the bottle and cold glass.

Toshinori surrendered it without a fuss. As if he never had true intentions of breaking his abstinence.

Subtly, the older man cast a gaze in his direction before turning away to wave the waiter down for an non-alcoholic beverage.

Shouta saw his look.

It was rather foreign and distant. A look one couldn't be sure if it was directed his way, but if it connected would cleave off bits and pieces of one's self-worth.

He gripped his own short glass until his knuckles turned white.

….

(Aizawa returns to teacher's dorm sulking and finds Toshinori's cardigan. He encircles his arms around the soft material. Not having to worry about suffocating the inanimate object, he hugs it and sleeps.)

Shouta with his nose buried in Toshinori's cardigan inhaling greedily as if he's been starved of his lover's scent.

His cock throbs painfully as he jerks himself off.
The acrylic soaks up and accumulates heat with each of his sharp exhales.

When he closes his eyes, he could almost pretend that it is Toshinori's warm skin that his face is pressed against.

….

(At the teacher's lounge)

Toshinori's hole appeared sloppy, swollen. Used.

If at that time, he had distanced himself mentally and applied his keen logic, he would have dismantled the other's trickery.

And perhaps, Toshinori had armed himself well against his sharp observation skills. That at the perfect moment in time, he let the unbuttoned shirt to fall open, revealing his naked chest. And the violet-red blotches blossoming at the base of his neck, scattered across his chest.

Shouta's eyes widened. Gripping the older man's button-down, he couldn't stop the tremble in his fists. And every second, it became harder and harder to distinguish whether the red he saw was from the marks on Toshinori's pale skin or from his own anger.

(angry sex)

It's only in the subsequent haze, the lassitude following release that Shouta sees the usual sharp electric blue eyes blank momentarily. The fogginess of the other's gaze revealing the lost child within. The feeble and weak child who's a stark contrast to the ambitious adult, the Number One hero of this golden age.

Even with his dazed look, Toshinori draws him in. As if the other solicited his affections
indirectly.

Try as he may, Shouta could not resist spoiling him. And he dips down to shower him with kisses. On his chiseled cheeks. His sweat-glistening forehead. His soft ears. His swan-like neck. His prominent clavicles. The plains of his chest already imprinted with countless kiss and bite marks.

And he does so carefully. Softly. For he's wary of waking the dormant adult.

Yet, regardless of his efforts, Toshinori blinks when he lands his lips upon the corner of his eye to pluck the teardrop that had collected there.The blond's eyes refocused. And his impeccable adult facade reassembled itself in the matter of seconds.

His palms pushed against his chest halting his tender displays.

"Enough, Aizawa-kun." He tells him. The firmness unmistakable even when affected by the hoarseness of his voice.

Shouta stops.

And Toshinori half shoves him off, half wiggles his way out from beneath him.

Shouta watches unmoving.

"Did you let Vlad do this to you?" He asked again, this time demanding a direct answer. A "yes" or "no." No ambiguity.

For vagueness would never calm the raging storm inside.

"…For someone who's usually so keen at observations, you ask questions with the most obvious answers." Toshinori commented, voice low, as if he's still recovering from the strenuous activity prior. Though he exercised his sarcasm tirelessly. Resting his head upon his forearms, he blinked at him slowly. Lazily. Like an affectionate yet mischievous cat.

"Answer me." He wouldn't let him parry the question any further.

"If you must know, then, no. I didn't get intimate with him." The other admitted finally. A corner of his lips lifted as if mocking his distrustful nature. "And how readily you doubt both my character and my fidelity, Aizawa-kun."

"How did those marks come about?" He referred to the ones spread across his chest.

"Midnight-kun's lipstick. The long-lasting type." His finger rubbed at a mark on his skin vigorously until it dissolved into a light smear. "The wonders of female beauty enhancement products."

"…" His hands clenched into fists and his jaw tightened when he gritted his teeth. To prevent the ready apology from slipping through. But wait. Why did the necessity of an apology even cross his mind when the other mislead him.
The rule, though tacit, though unsaid, declared the one to initiate an apology as the loser to forever be at the mercy of the other's whim.

"Or maybe, you were already looking for opportunities to condemn me as a transgressor, to be unworthy of your invested time and attention, to draw your distance and to finally get rid of me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He demanded.

"Maybe you were just lonely and needed the most convenient companion."

"That's-…!"

"And maybe, that was the case for me too?"

….

"You said that to him?"

"He's probably not one to sleep with someone just out of loneliness."

"So then, why did you accuse him of doing something he didn't?"

"It's my way of forcing him to examine our relationship. It may not be purely physical, but it's still rather ambiguous. I want him to come to terms with what exactly it is."

"You're really baiting him."

"As I said before, he is probably not one to sleep around loosely. However, no one can say for sure, right? It's only under pressure that one's true character emerges."

….

Shouta gripped his thin ankles, opening his long legs wider and wider yet to drive his conquest deeper into him. Each time he plunges into the other, he ensures to strike the bullseye.

The the spindly figure twisted and turned the sheets beneath. Soft moans escaped his mouth hanging agape slightly. His closed eyes, lightly furrowed brows, and blush spread athwart his cheeks all displayed his consumption in ecstacy. As he plowed him, the other's cock bobbed to his furious tempo. Its tip wept pearly drops of precum that smeared against his skin each time his stiff member slapped his flat belly.

Shouta knew the other neared climax. That probably in his next few thrusts, he would push him over the edge, to offset an eruption of liquid heat.

But that would be too simple. As much as he enjoyed spoiling him, he understood that satisfying him too easily would only discount the respect his lover had of him. That maintaining control in their relationship meant a delicate balance of denial and gratification of the other's needs.

So instead, he wound a ribbon around Toshinori's cock, and knotted the two ends.

Immediately, his eyes snapped open and he witnessed the shock surfacing in the mesmerizing blue depths.

"Aizawa-kun…! Why did you-…!" He protested. Before he could undo the string, Shouta held down his thin wrists.

"Use your words." His hot breath taunted his sensitive ear.

If release was what his lover wanted, then he would have to beg for it.

Shaken, the other scrutinized him with frantic eyes. The determination in his own onyx depths forecasted a sure victory.

Yet, the other's eyes only narrowed, hardening. He wasn't going to surrender, Shouta decoded the silent cue. Even if it meant that they end up in stalemate.

"Use your words." Shouta hissed. His bait as sweet and toxic as a serpent's bite. "Say it."

Closing his eyes, shutting out all efforts at further negotiation, Toshinori bit his lips. His answer was clear. His challenge, issued.

In the end, it didn't matter how many times he provoked him. Or how hard he pounded him into the mattress.

Even choked, bonded, and stultified, his stiff cock erected in pride. As if its purple shade wasn't from the lack of circulation, but a sign of dignity, of nobility. What purple symbolized in long-standing history.

It was then, Shouta realized. It didn't matter if he was the enemy or his lover. Yagi Toshinori didn't capitulate to anyone.

Because the infinite reservoir of pride in his marrow coursing through his bloodstream disallowed it.

The other had already lost all consciousness when he finally halted, and untied him. Cum seeped out in infinite streams from the tip of his abused cock. Milked of its last drop, the member lied limp between his thighs. It returned to its natural pink tinge.

When he peered at the flaccid figure before him, he noted the specks of crimson lining his bottom lip. The evidence of his obduracy. His willfulness.

Shouta sighed. His fingers brushed the strands of blond sticking to the side of his face coated with a sheen of sweat.

Only in sleep did his lover return to true defenseless docility.

He dipped down. Slowly, he glided his tongue across his lips. To both clean them from blood and to moisten them. Then he slid into the cavern of his mouth and caressed the other's tongue. His gentleness, both a tacit apology as well as a solicitation of peace.

After all the tumult between them, he craved nothing but warm tenderness now.

....

"You know, Yamada-kun, many evolutionary psychologists say that men have a proclivity to chaos, to violence. That we have an irresistible urge to hurt others. Even those who we love."

"I can't give my opinion because science isn't one of my areas of expertise. Though, I would want to argue against this claim. I mean, we are more civilized than we were, aren't we?"

"Aggression is actually ingrained in our human nature. In both sexes. It's triggered when we feel insecure. The student insecure about his academic standings, for example, would channel his aggression towards his studies to ensure he does well on exams."

"That sounds like an effective way of dealing with the negative emotion."

"But when one feels insecure in a relationship, that's when the aggression would most likely be directed at his companion. And hence, the urge to hurt another…"

"All Might-san…"

"I think… I'm going to wander away for a little."

"Did you let Eraser know? You know he'll get sick with worry."

"You're exaggerating, Yamada-kun." Toshinori chuckled. "Distance will do all of us good, from time to time. It'll put things into perspective. I think he'll be just fine."

"But-…"

"Besides, I need the space to do some thinking on my own too. Perhaps, I'm running away because I can't stand the ugly jealous creature living inside of me."

"But even if you escape this place, you can't escape yourself."

"It's true. I want to see too just how much I'll miss him. And that would hopefully determine the meaning of our relationship."

….

(Toshi disappears for a few days; Aizawa tries to contact him without luck)

(Bar)

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, eh?"

"I'm ashamed to admit to this. He won't leave my mind. I don't know when the last time I've thought of Oboro. Even when I try to remember what he looked like, all I get is a blurry mental image." Staring at his shot glass too hard, his focus wavered, blurred. Much like his memory of that certain special person of his past.

"Don't beat yourself up too much, Shou-chan. To be honest, it gets harder and harder for me too as the years go on. And now, he doesn't even look anything like what he did is just…" Hizashi shook his head. Instead of finishing his sentence, he chose to down his drink with a head tossed backward.

"I have to rely on photos now." He mumbled. "Pathetic."

Hizashi gave a chuckle. As he brought the drink to his lips again, his hand stopped in midair. He froze. "Wait, don't tell me. Were you looking at the photos before All Might-san left?"

He peered over to his friend. "It was…The day before."

"So that's why…" He squinted as if solving a mystery. "He looked so despondent when he told me he'd wander away for a few days."

His head shot up. "He told you he was leaving? Where did he say he's going? For how long?"

Hizashi held his hands up in defense. "Woah, hold on! Way too many questions at once! Do you guys even communicate? He is your lover, isn't he?"

The other's underlying accusation struck a tender nerve.

"He trusted me, as his friend, not to reveal his location."

"Why did he only tell you?"

Hizashi ignored him; he overlooked the jealous undertone and the harsh voice Shouta used like he's interrogating him. "As your friend, I'm going to tell you anyway. Besides, if he didn't want me to tell you, he wouldn't have chosen to tell me, of all people, in the first place."

He calmed. Yes, it seemed like the other's doing. Him and his mischievous ways.

"And, as a friend for both of you, may I ask the two of you to stop all your nonsense and just get along like a normal couple?"

Shouta smirked. "For once, that sounds like legit advice."

….

He boarded the train.

It would be a long ride from Musutafu to Shizuoka. He brought a small duffle bag. Within, he packed a few sets of clean clothes. A book. And some files that he could perhaps have a glimpse at it work on. Just so he doesn't waste time during the ride.

He had bought a bento and a bottle of sencha for lunch when he gets hungry later. He put the plastic bag containing the food items in the empty seat next to him. As if doing so, he reserved the spot. As if he had been traveling with a companion, like he did before with his lover, and the other merely excused himself to the restroom.

And when he comes back, he'd engage him in conversation, chat jovially with him about the places they'd explore, hotspots they'd see. He'd maintain his facade and reason with him about how crowded it'd be, how it's just tourist traps. He'd try to dissuade him from rushing from one place to another. The other would agree with him, but the two of them would still somehow end up going to the places the other planned for them to see. Toshinori would lead. And he would follow.

Probably to the end of the earth.

And he realized. All this time he thought he had been the assertive one in their relationship, the one in control, he had been misled. That Toshinori had exerted power subtly, covertly. He'd been exposed to the other's influences. These influences in turn rattled him up. Even when he stubbornly clung onto his own proclivities and identity, he's changing. Bit by bit.

His pursuit of his lover now was his struggle, wasn't it? Of him trying to win back some control. Of him chasing back whatever part of himself the other had made off with?

Shouta pulled out his smartphone from his pocket.

Still no calls or text messages from the other. He opened his call log. It displayed his numerous attempts to reach to him the past few days. All unsuccessful.

If Hizashi hadn't informed him of the other's safety, he probably would have left to pursue him earlier.

The overhead messaging system announced an estimated time of arrival to the station he would be changing trains. The slow, robotic instruction could easily lull him to sleep, and he did have plenty of time to do so if he wanted to.

He shut his tired eyes. In the past, he would also shift his weight. So he'd be leaning again the other's tall, spindly figure. The other would sit completely still through the duration of the ride, even though he was a restless and fidgety individual normally.

And it's only upon the arrival at their destination that he would shake him awake. Gently.

He drifted to a light slumber to the rhythmic rocking and the ticking of the wheels upon the rails. Like a clock counting down to the moment of their reunion.

….

The address that Hiazashi provided him had been one scribbled on the box of mikkabi mikan Toshinori had sent to his friend along with a card he included ("Yamada-kun, I hope you and the other instructors enjoy this specialty of Shizuoka Prefecture").

The smiley face he drew at the bottom displayed his lack of artistic talent. Yet, he pictured the other hunched over the card, hands trembling slightly in his struggle to create a decent artistic rendition. The mental image moved him.

He seized the note along with a freshly plucked mikan. All the while ignoring his friend's protest. After a series of metro exchanges, followed by a few more bus rides, he landed at his intended destination at the countryside.

Stepping off the bus, he came face to face with bright yellow sun beating down upon the vast sea of green. The rows of tea bushes like waves rolling across the vast plains. Poles and power plant towers ran along the fields.

In the distance, he observed the silhouettes of hills and mountains standing guard over the area. The houses and buildings he spotted were scattered among the green. Hardly any of them huddled closely together. It signaled to him the amount of walking he would probably have to do. But he's been on plenty of search missions before. This, he knew, would be no where as grueling---at least the subject's safety is already secured.

And it's like the other to retreat to a setting where nature thrived, where the wild life was probably greater in number than the human inhabitants.
the first thing he wondered was where he would be retiring for the night.

Maybe he'll be able to find Toshinori and head back the same day.

Checking the time on his phone, he set out on his mission.

Guided by the GPS, he arrived before a small store. Its plain, bordering dingy appearance told of its history and modest origins. It was a family-owned business, directed to serve the local residents.

The front door open, within, he saw an elderly man with graying hair packing the bright-colored fruit away into cases and crates. Beside him, a small girl probably early in elementary school helped him.

He entered. Uttering a polite greeting, he stated directly his intentions.

Shouta asks the owner if he's seen Toshinori. The owner recalls, after a moment of thinking, that he's seen the man Shouta describes to him, and that they've exchanged some small talk, during which Toshinori said he would be staying in the small town for a short while.

Shouta looks around for Toshinori. He has no luck. When it gets dark, he finds a small hotel to crash at and decides to resume his search tomorrow. Drifting to sleep, he wonders how it is so difficult to encounter someone in a town as small as this.

The next day, he sets out to search for his missing companion after breakfast.

Eventually, in the afternoon, he spots him in the sea of green, in the tea field.

He caught a flash of bright sunburst among the green.

The light reflected from his mane had been so overpowering that it would have been impossible to dismiss. Even if the other stood amongst sunflower stalks. 

"Yagi-san!"

He called out. And he foolishly, adamantly hoped, as illogical as it is, that calling the other's name would freeze him in the single spot. In that one place and time.

That even if Toshinori willed otherwise, he could not escape his reach.

….

(Shouta meets up with Toshi, but the days of being apart seemed to have driven a wedge between them. That even small talk felt too intimate.
As awkward as it was, Shouta still managed to follow Toshinori back to his hotel room. He stubbornly refused to let the other out of his sight.
On the way, Toshinori encounters a man, probably in his early thirties from Shouta's assessment. The two strike up a colorful conversation, which he felt he had no part in. He fights the urge to cut in whenever the man (Daisuke, he heard Toshinori address him) patted the blond's arm or shoulder. After what felt like an eternity (maybe the man felt him stare daggers in his direction), the man finally bid them farewell and they resumed their walk.)

"Why did you leave?"

"I needed a break. It was only for a week, Aizawa-kun."

Shouta stared at him. Hard. "And you did so without telling anyone but one person? And cleaning out my apartment of your belongings? Doesn't sound like you needed just a break."

"I didn't have much at your place to begin with." He explained calmly. He looked as if he was trying to reason with a child.

And maybe he really didn't bring much with him when he settled into his apartment. That every little thing that disappeared from his place seemed to call attention to his absence. To the possibility that the other too would vanish from his life. Abandon him.

"And must I tell you every detail of my life? The places I'd go? The people I'd see? I didn't know you cared this much, Aizawa-kun."

His hands balled to fists. As if he's attempting to squash the retorts before they sprung out of him and destroyed the fragility of their relationship. Instead, he asked. "Why are you being difficult now?"

When the other smiled at him, his expression became foreign. Stranger yet. "Maybe I've always been this way, Shouta."

"I thought I could be the bigger man." Toshinori told him. "I thought I could bear the thought of you just soaking in your friend's memories. But I guess I'm small and ugly. That I am more vain and petty than I credit myself for."

"…"

"I had an irresistible urge to hurt you. To make you feel this pain, this irritation I'm feeling. But that's not what I wanted. So before I did, I chose to leave."

"…"

"I don't know how to compete with someone who you've shared more history and memories with."

"But why are you competing?" By now, even if he wanted to be irritated, to rebuke him for his flawed logic, he had no energy left to do so. He sighed. "Is it not enough that you've practically planted yourself and took root in my life. That you've dominated my thoughts?"

Toshinori gaped at him. As if completely taken aback by his confession.

"And, you're not the only vain and petty one." Shouta's hand raked through his hair. "I was jealous too. Of all the attention you attracted. Of all the attention you gave the others. To Vlad. To Mic."

Confessing to such truth made him feel rather awkward. But there was a strange relief that followed. A tranquility that came after accepting a truth instead of suppressing it.

"The loneliness you felt. Did it pushed you far enough to seek physical comfort from the warmth of another body?"

Toshinori smiled. A mischievous glint in his eyes. "Are you asking me if I fucked someone else in your absence?"

Shouta raised a brow at his sudden display of vulgarity, but still admitted. "Yes. That is exactly what I'm asking."

"Did you really think I enjoyed every moment of being dominated by you?" Toshinori uttered. "There is immense physical pleasure. I won't deny that."

Shouta's brows furrowed. "Then what is the problem?"

"I am a man, Shouta. Just as you would feel ashamed and embarrassed if you were rescued, I cannot deny the shame that surfaces each time you penetrate me. Regardless of your superior technique, your careful consideration, it hurts. Every single time."

He observed the frustration in his eyes. The storm brewing within his deep set eyes.

"If I wanted to, I could have you beneath me in the blink of an eye." The other's bold statement bordered a threat. A promise waiting for opportunity and action to see to fruition. "But I can't bring myself to hurt you physically."

Shouta understood, that the way the other deceived him, his abrasive and sarcastic remarks directed solely toward him were his way of venting his frustration. His way of modulating his insecurities.

He didn't doubt his competence and ability. Especially after he defeated All for One while his flame was on the verge of burning out.

"So don't you ever doubt my feelings for you. And don't you dare take it for granted." He told him.

Toshinori's challenge to Shouta, issued.

Every time he topped him, he stomped on his pride, his manhood. But it was because Toshinori let him.

Because Toshinori loved him.

His lover proved himself with this ultimate display of his devotion. He wasn't just a show and empty words.

Shouta reached out. His fingertips brushed the other's trembling shoulders. In the slight touch, he drained the other's fear, insecurity, doubt, and the dark emotions all reverberating within him, until his whole being shook with pain.

Then he embraced him. With the entirety of his body, with a tightness that declared whoever tried to take him would have to pry him from his cold, dead hands.

He would not give him up or throw him away. When he pledged himself to this promise, at the same time, he became a consummate blind.

That perhaps Yagi Toshinori had played him, tricked him, fooled him. But he was willing to believe that the other's desperation drove him to such measures.

….

"I lied."

"The great All Might lying? What has the world come to?"

"But remember, I'm no longer All Might, the hero. I'm just an average quirkless citizen, prone to frivolities such as lying."

"…"

"I'm not as jealous of his friend as he thinks I am, or I thought I'd be."

"Then why all this? All this running him around in circles? I mean, you really fooled us."

"To build something new, one must destroy the old. To go backwards in order to go forward."

"Sounds deep."

"I was willing to submit to his will. I'm willing to give myself up entirely, and showered him with love and affection wholeheartedly… But then, I realized, I would only become a habit. That's how people take things, take other people, for granted, isn't it?"

"I see your point. Like we won't know how precious life is until we've had an encounter with death."

"Exactly."

"You have a keen eye for psychology, All Might-san."

"That may be the only advantage to being older." He chuckled. "After all, I have neither physical strength nor youthful appeal to rely upon now."

….

In the dark, their lips attached and their tongues sparred.

He felt his lover's arousal through his slack pants.

Pausing, he drew his distance and asked. "You want to top?"

Toshinori used the space to kick off his pants. He spread his long legs. His erection stood proud, waiting to be caressed by his calloused strokes. The glisten of his hole already answered his question.

"That's a decision to make another day." Toshinori told him, pulling him close. "Just fuck me tonight."

Shouta reached for the foil he had previously laid out on the nightstand.

His lover stopped him. His hand weighing down upon his outstretched hand. "Fill me up with your heat."

He studied his face with the special permission he offered him. He detected not an ounce of hesitation, of the other forcing himself to submit to him.

"If that is your wish…" He told him. "Then so be it."

Naturally, the blond allowed himself to fall. The overly springy mattress inadequate to provide a platform for restful sleep, but it would suffice to support their passionate activity.

Shouta entered him. Slowly. Even though his lover had prepared himself thoroughly in the shower. He focused entirely on his gaunt face. His intent gaze almost boring a hole into the other in his complete concentration on even the most miniscule muscle contraction that could have hinted at discomfort or pain.

The way his eyes squeezed shut tightly. The quiver of his eyelashes. The deep furrow of his brows. These signs all told him of the other's pain.

And accused him of the self-absorption he had never known about himself until now.

He paused in his advances. "You all right?"

"Hurry… I want you completely inside." Toshinori gripped his forearms he had anchored left and right of his head. The other's velvet passage clenched and unclenched, adjusting around his pulsating member.

"It's rather unlike you…" He pressed kisses to the sides of his face while slipping in deeper. "To rush me like this."

"What's wrong…With being honest…for once?" His back arched upward as he molded his thin figure against him.

The muscles of his whole entire body tensed, his skin stretched thin over his ribs. It's as if he applied a bit more force, his bones would poke through his sides to entangle with his. Their tendons, ligaments, vessels and bones would all coil together.

Perhaps sorting and unwinding would take an eternity. If that was the case, then maybe they should just remain joined forever.

He sighed in content.

He's pleasantly surprised. Especially since the other has never so openly displayed his pleasure. His modesty and (supposed) shyness always kept reins on him. Though, as lewd as his now open mannerism, Shouta could not deny the effect the other's overt ecstatic expressions had on his satisfaction. That he felt accomplished for eliciting pleasure in his lover. He dipped down to take a nibble on a nub of flesh at his chest.

Toshinori yelped, squirming harder. "A-Aizawa-kun!"

He licked the tiny bud to soothe his bite. "You're rather sensitive here…"

He bit his lips when Shouta attacked the other side. His fingers fondled his chest.

When he pulled away, he inhaled, then exhaled, as if building upon his patience and resilience with each breath. "So. Who the hell is Daisuke?"

Toshinori loosened his grip and instead wrapped his arms around his neck. It was his signal to tell him he was ready. "Why are you bringing him up at a time like this?"

"I didn't know you could address someone you've only met by his first name." He sucked at the dip of his throat. Hard. "And I don't like the way he looks at you."

The blond's heels pushed into his lower back, urging his advancement deeper. "He asked me to call him by his given name… Ngh!"

"Don't you dare give him your contact information." He held him as he rocked him, as if he's safeguarding a sacred treasure. His tight grip around him pronounced more loudly than any declaration. You're mine.

Toshinori smirked. He looked him straight in the eye. "And if you ever call another name or think of anyone else while we're doing this, you can be sure we are over."

He felt the threat of the other's claim at that moment. Yet, instead of being unsure as he had been before, the other's demand only solidified his resolve.

He sealed their promise with a kiss.

….

"After all this scheming, may I just ask, did you… No. Do you even have feelings for him? Do you love him?"

His grin only grew wider. Though, there was a slight sadness in his eyes. Hizashi couldn't be sure if that was truly so or just a play of the shadows.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have worked to prove myself. I would have just let time work its toll---for him to become disenchanted, used to me, grow bored with me, and eventually, leave me."

"Eraser's not someone like that." He defended. Though, there was no real conviction to his defense.

"But how do we know that for sure? Because human nature is fickle. There's no guarantee of the duration of one's devotion." Toshinori said slowly. "What is to say that if there was a way to restore his friend from the husk that he is now that he would not abandon me for him? They share a stronger bond and a longer history, after all."

….

That night, they lied together huddling beneath the thin hotel blankets.

The material was rough, cheap, and it scratched his bare skin. But he was thankful that it didn't have a strange stench or an overpowering odor of bleach.

He buried his nose into the curve of the blond's long neck. When he breathed deeply, he picked up the fragrance of deep forestry. Nature titillated his nostrils, awoken the sleeping youth within the hearts of adults and seduced them with the promise of adventure.

Shouts couldn't help but feel the pang of disappointment. That even though they hadn't been apart for long, that he had missed a significant part of the other's expedition. And he lost a part of him to mystery.

….

The next day, the two of them boarded the train.
It would be a long way back to the city, back to Yuuei. But they relished the time. Every second and minute of it.

As his companion looked out the window, he held the other in his gaze. His eyes hurt more than ever. Not because of his usually dry eye or from the lack of sleep. But because he hesitates to blink. As if doing so would inadvertently dismiss the other from view. As irrational as the thought. Toshinori must have felt his heated gaze. He turned to him slowly. "…Yes, Aizawa-kun."

He peered into his eyes, silently observing his own reflection within them. Their eye contact, a mutual understanding. A tacit agreement of one another's existence.

Once tranquility reestablished both externally and internally, Shouta closed his eyes and leaned against him. To rest his eyes. To soothe his nerves.

"People are going to see…" Toshinori reminded him in a whisper.

He didn't reply. He didn't care. In this rural town, the chances of people knowing them were small. Especially since they're nothing like what they are on television.

As an additional act of boldness, he took the other's hand. And wove his fingers through his long, bony ones.

"…Aizawa-kun?"

He didn't answer. A corner of his lips lifted. He'll let the other wallow in his dilemma a bit longer.

….

"So what made you throw away your mask in the end?"

"I was already his when he went through the troubles to come look for me." The sweet tenderness seeped into his smile from the bottom of his heart.

Hizashi raised an eyebrow. "As complex as you are, All Might-san, I didn't expect that that was all it took."

Toshinori laughed. Then said. "In all seriousness though, I have the news to thank. It was my reality check."

"…Huh?"

"At the hotel, I remembered the one and only time I turned the television on, and the reporter was covering an accident in a neighboring prefecture. A hero had lost his life on duty. To many, he probably won't leave so much of a lasting impression. After all, we all knew from day one what becoming a hero entails."

Hizashi studied him. "But it seems you'll be remembering him."

"Because his death reminded me of my grief with Nighteye. Of how short and fleeting life is—how foolish it is to spend time holding a grudge. All these ploys that are aimed at shaking him up, to bind him to me, are pointless in the face of our ever fleeting mortality."

"Oh?"

"Whether we like it or not, every day, every hour, every minute, every moment, we are taking steps closer to death. I am an old man, Yamada-kun."

"You shouldn't say that about yourself."

"But it's true. I could feel the age and decay in my body, deep in my viscera and bones. It's something we need to come to terms with. That way, we don't end up wasting time on trivial matters. Perhaps, all the obstacles I've created between us have been foolish, have been a needless waste of time. But, maybe it was the necessary detour I needed to take to come to this final realization."

"That's impressive, All Might-san."

Toshinori smiled at him. Then looked to the sunset in the distance. No one knows if it would be the final sunset he sees or not.

"If it was the end of the world today, I want to spend it beside him. Regardless of him returning my affections or not."

He saw the approaching figure in the distance. So he turned toward the voice hero and smiled, thanking him.

"Good talk, Yamada-kun."