Shattered Dreams

Overnight Sensation

April 1986

Bundled up in his seat, Enji closed his eyes. His stomach tightened.
For a moment he wondered what the actual fuck he was doing.

He hadn't hesitated, not a single second.
He didn't care that he had no phone number or address to reach Toshinori.

The University of California in Los Angeles had been enough info for him to rush to the airport, and get on the next plane. He'd sort out the details once he landed.

His boyfriend had been nowhere to be seen in the bleachers, when the young Flame Hero had won first place at this year's Sports Festival.

Toshinori hadn't rushed to the podium after the picture shooting, to drag Enji behind a wall and congratulate him as he was supposed to (by kissing the brains out of him, not caring about his split lip).

Recovery Girl herself had been surprised, too. When the redhead had told her he knew nothing, she had asked Gran Torino. Her colleague had paused, then he had led her aside.
Enji had followed them in the distance, suspicious at the visible secrecy about Toshinori's absence-

and that was when he had found out.

"All Might needed to train properly. Without ANY distraction".

Enji couldn't believe it. It couldn't be.

The future Symbol of Peace couldn't have up and gone, just like that, without at least a warning.

"I would never lie to you, it's not hero-like!"

A couple months ago, when the younger teen had offered to team up and start a joint agency after Toshinori lost his mentor, the latter had blurted out that he loved him.
It hadn't happened like in the movies, at all. The blond had felt so vulnerable in his arms, eyes red and cheeks wet from the tears as he couldn't utter a sentence without sobbing, he had stained Enji's shirt with his runny nose — and the confession had slipped.

Toshinori had said it a second time, later, a night he thought Enji was asleep. He had whispered those three short words in the crook of his shoulder, before pressing his lips against the warm skin and dozing off again.

It had taken time for the redhead to say it back. (Maybe because of his pride, or maybe because the words simply refused to come out.)

So he had resorted to that old kid's technique, and shoved the second top button of his jacket into Toshinori's hand before leaving on that spring camp, a month and a half ago — hoping that he'd get it.
As Enji had walked outside he could distinctly feel the blond's wide grin even without seeing it, giving him his answer.

So there was no goddamn way his boyfriend could have just left him BEHIND.

The young Flame Hero did consider the idea that it had been an act, once, for Toshinori to surpass him faster; but his opinion had long changed.
(Hell, Enji had felt stupid even saying it; the older teen's face had straight out fallen, as if it had been an utter crime.)

... But well.

Enji still had to admit he had been starting to get pissed, lately. It had been six weeks since he last saw him, and he still had no news.
At all.

Even that stupid phone number that Toshinori insisted so much he'd keep with him, had proven completely useless. The day Enji gave in and locked himself in his room to dial it, whoever had answered had been some secretary — or an assistant or whatever — instead of the blond.