Through Chaos and Order | Shota Aizawa

Fifteen

My eyes clenched close at the echo of her demanding voice as I ran a hand through my hair.

I needed to wash it; it was greasy, and I personally needed rest. I've never felt so exhausted in my life, yet I know I won't be able to until I can see Shouta awake and talk with him.

And I'm glad I did stay, for he did eventually exhibit signs of waking up. He had to soon enough, and that moment was now. He began tossing and turning on the couch, and his eye lids began to flutter. My heart beat quickened. I was scared for the conversation that was about to come.

I chose not to speak first, I wanted to wait for him to acknowledge his surroundings and recall last nights events. This could be seen now.

You could tell when he remembered everything because his body shot up with an abrupt gasp, and his eyes darted. When he caught sight of me sitting in a kitchen chair, he sighed, in clear relief. He was glad it wasn't Chaos.

I pulled my knees to my chest. I looked small and hopeless.

To my surprise, he didn't speak immediately; his eyes merely looked down in his lap as he sat up before yawning and rubbing his face for a moment. With every silent second that passed, it felt as if my heart beat quickened even more so. I couldn't tell if I was merely nervous or terrified.

Eventually, he did speak.

"What time is it?" He asked, voice deep, and gruff.

I was so surprised at his first vocalization, I hesitated, and stuttered my following speech, ". . . Six. . . Six, forty-five."

With that, he looked at me in surprise before jumping up, and straightening his clothes, "Damnit—. I have to get ready for work."

"In the afternoon, Shouta."

All actions came to a pause as he looked at me.

"It's Friday."

He slowly sat back down, and ran a hand through his hair. Aizawa clearly seemed dissatisfied by his uncleaned condition as well.

A solid minute of silence passed between us. I felt like I needed to speak but I was too scared.

"I was out for a whole day?" He looked over to me.

I nodded subtly.

"Damn."

Something within me declared that it was now the time to speak up, "Shouta, listen, about last night, I'm really sorry—"

He completely cut off my apology. It seemed intentional. "So, what, your dark stance can make people sleep now?"

I was slow on responding again, ". . No, she paralyzed you. I'm not sure why you passed out. But, hey, for real, yesterday was completely unexpected, and nothing was done in the right mind. You have to know I am truly sorry."

He gazed at me for a moment. Gazing right at me, right in me, before again shrugging off my apology, and changing the subject, "Do you mind if I use your shower before I head out?"

I felt tears gather in my eyes. I was saddened by the thought of him not taking my apology into mind. I've seen this dismissive behavior once before I moved away to college. But I quickly pushed this sadness away, and answered him, putting a fake smile on. "Of course you can. Would you like for me to run your clothes through the dryer real fast? It'll at least soften them up and make them smell nicer."

He paused momentarily before nodding his head yes, saying, "I'll leave them outside the door," before leaving the room quickly in search of a bathroom.