Chapter 19

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Dry heaving I'm always astonished people don't find this unbearably cringey lesgo

Third person pov

Morning came too slow for Aizawa, who'd been unable to sleep all that well. Who could, knowing the love of their life was just a mere room over from them? He still could hardly wrap his head around the fact that he was sharing an apartment with Hiroki. He never in his wildest dreams would've-- actually, maybe he would've in his dreams. He'd had a lot of those and some were very extensive.

Point was, he never actually thought it would happen. Like, in real life. Especially considering the man had been dead up until a little while ago.

Yet here he was, sitting and watching like a zombie as Hiroki bustled around the kitchen. Shinso was in much the same state, gaze bleary and tired. Shota withheld a yawn, tracking the white-haired man as he whipped breakfast up despite protests from the two current observers that he didn't have to go to all the trouble. Hiroki had literally laughed in their faces, so that about summed up how that had gone. 

They'd had a pretty serious conversation last night, he and Hiroki, about Shinso and where to go from here. Aizawa hadn't really meant to agree to adoption, but the fact that Hiroki was implying that they'd be taking the kid in jointly sort of sealed the deal. That's not to say he wouldn't have helped the kid on his own, but he doubted he would've opened his own home to much of anyone without Hiroki's influence.

He was a private man, and though he'd fight tooth and nail to get any child in need out of a bad situation, that didn't mean his apartment was going to be the landing pad. Until now. Again, sort of horrible of him, but Shota has never once claimed to have been a good person.

"So, Shinso! What're your plans today?" Hiroki chirped out, happy as a clam. Shota nursed the heavenly cup of coffee the man has given him, wondering how loving someone this much was possible.

"O-Oh, I don't know. Nothing really. I'll probably just uh... wander back home." Hitoshi lied, curling into himself slightly. Aizawa grunted in assent, sipping his coffee. Which was apparently not the right answer, because Hiroki immediately turned to give him a look.

It wasn't a necessarily bad look. Just a pointed one that had Shota scrambling trying to figure out exactly what it meant, because he's whipped and too far gone not to admit it. He blustered for a second, thoughts still a little foggy from sleep and the honeyed haze that seemed to fall over his mind when Hiroki was within sight, straightening in his seat slightly.

"Uh... Oh, right." Shota realized, slouching with slight relief. He turned to look at the mildly perplexed teen sitting at the other end of the short bar. "You're not leaving."

He turned to Hiroki for approval and just about melted on the spot when he saw the other man's smile. His heart set alight so fast that no amount of stopping, dropping, and rolling would fix it. And maybe that's fine. Maybe Shota enjoys burning from the inside out in blissful agony.

Shota should be thanking Mic. Fuck. He never thought the day would come, but lo and fucking behold, that idiot actually did something useful. Now Shota can gravitate in Hiroki's bubble without it being weird. Because they share a bubble. Him and Hiroki Akisuka! Shota still can't fully believe it.

A large part of himself thinks this is a probably dream, or maybe he died at some point and this is what came after. Though if those were true, surely logic dictated that he'd have held Hiroki by now. Tasted his lips, mapped every inch of his pale skin with his tongue until he had the planes memorized, ran his hands through— you get it.

"Sorry, what?" Hitoshi asked with mild alarm. Hiroki paused thoughtfully, a plate of pancakes in one hand and a spatula still in the other.

"Well, wait. That makes it sound like we've kidnapped you and are going to hold you hostage." Hiroki admitted thoughtfully, lips pursing. Aizawa propped his chin on his fist and observed. "Which we're not doing. And we're also not threatening you. Pancake?"

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