The Calm

Part 5 - Birds of a Feather: Disperse

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A chapter with a much lighter air than the last. Though the ending could be debated on whether it is light or not. Your decision, really.

Hope you enjoy!

~ Nezumi

Birds of a Feather:  Disperse

"Dabi," Izuku calls quietly from the doorway, his bag in hand. The teen, after eating his fill and shuffling himself into his new coat, had passed out once again on the couch on his back, quilt pulled up under his chin and one socked foot popping out at the end.

It was half an hour before sunset when Hansuke would come over and Izuku didn't want the visitation to be a surprise for Dabi. It would be best to wake him up and tell him now.

"Dabi," Izuku calls, just a bit louder this time. Despite the gently cajoling tone, Dabi jerks like he was kicked and then is sitting bolt up, hands raised-- whether in defence or his offence, he couldn't tell-- and his blazing blue eyes are darting around the room, before settling on him. It pleases Izuku greatly when it causes Dabi to relax, that Dabi didn't consider him a threat. It made him smile warmly.

"Sorry to wake you," Izuku apologies. "But I thought I should tell you that a friend of mine will be dropping by soon."

Dabi stiffens once again but winces minutely as it pulls at his burns, face and otherwise. Izuku is quick to try and assuage any feelings of unease.

"Don't worry! It's just Hansuke, he's the person who helped me get this place," he says, gesturing loosely to the building currently sheltering them both. "He's a realtor, you see." He looks back at Dabi, red eyes glittering happily. "He's a bit like . . . a, a puppy!"

Dabi blinks before arching one eyebrow up in scepticism. "A . . . puppy," he murmurs. "Right."

"Mhm!" Izuku says, nodding for emphasis. "He's very sweet and very helpful. I'm sure you two will get along."

Dabi makes a rumbling noise on the back of his throat, flopping back down on the couch, grimacing as it aggravated his wounds, and pulling the covers back up to his chin. He stares at the ceiling, eyes filled with debate.

"Hansuke comes by at sunset, so you'll be seeing quite a bit of him," Izuku says, coming and sitting on the rocking chair in the corner of the room. It creaks ominously but takes his weight fine otherwise. He plops his bag by his feet before unzipping its mouth, pulling a notebook out with the d-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-k as the wire spine catches and pulls past another spine as he takes it out.

He pulls a pencil from his pocket, mechanical, and with two distinct clicks, led pops out the end, the edge of it slanted and showing how it wasn't a fresh stick but one used previously. Twisting the pencil about in his fingers so the smoothed side was downward, so he wouldn't write with the sharp tip, Izuku flips open the notebook. The binding edges of the paper scrape against each other as pages are flipped and they come to lay fluffed up in a stack as they are turned over onto each other, incapable of laying flat any longer. It's only when Izuku reaches a clear page, lined paper unmarried by graphite and laying smooth and even, perfectly unruffled against each other, that Izuku sets his pencil to the paper.

Izuku's never had the most beautiful handwriting. It's scratchy and rushed, as his hands attempt to keep up with his thoughts. His characters tend to lean to the side and lengthen as his hand hastens on forward, dragging out the pencil strokes and making the words stretch across the page. His writing almost turned calligraphic with the way his strokes flew dramatically across the page in high sweeps, climactic dips, and sharp dashes.