Rock My World - DabiHawks

Personality Crisis

A/N: I'm baaaaccckkkk!! finals week or my final week? stay tuned to find out <3

I was gonna wrap this story up with some sweet closure, but I'm stressed with finals this week and I want to suffer through some angst. So next chapter, be prepared. This chapter is pretty much just set up for the next chapter.

POV TOUYA

A church. This bastard brought me to a fucking church.

"No way in hell I'm going in there," I mutter to the bartender, my eyebrows furrowed into a scowl. "I'll burst into a ball of flames, I swear. I can't do it."

Aizawa rolls his eyes, his fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel. "I don't have time for this, Dabi," he snaps. He gestures toward the church's entrance, where a ginger dude stands awkwardly on the steps. "That guy is a friend of mine. Well, a friend of a friend. His name's Maijima Higari. And he's fucking crazy, so you'll be fine."

Unconvinced, I peer closer through the car window, studying Aizawa's "friend." He's short, maybe 5'1 (155 cm), but appears even shorter, hunched over like that. His spiky ginger hair extends just past his shoulders, and he stands uncomfortably, hands buried deep in his baggy, worn jeans pockets. Dull blue eyes gaze downwards, barely visible through his long yet uneven bangs.

In other words, if someone could transform a cigarette into a person, this Higari guy would be the result.

"You've gotta be kidding me," I mutter under my breath.

Aizawa unbuckles my seatbelt and shoves my shoulder. "I don't kid," he retorts. "Now hurry up, my daughter has a ballet recital in 20 minutes."

Reluctantly, I swing the car door open and make my way towards cigarette boy—who, unsurprisingly, is smoking a cigarette. How fitting.

"Hey, man," Higari greets me, pulling the cigarette away from his thin lips. He doesn't straighten up, so I'm partially convinced his spine is stuck like that. "You're that guitarist Aizawa was telling me about, right? Here for the AA meeting?"

I offer a slight nod, clenching my jaw to stifle an insult— or a death threat. Nothing against the guy, but I really do not want to be here. The last time I was in a church, my father beat the "devil" out of me while the pastor cheered him on.

Probably sensing my discomfort, Higari waves his hand dismissively at the church behind him, taking a quick but deep drag on his dwindling cigarette. "Don't let the scenery fool you," he exhales. "The only religious person in there is Shoko, and she's a Satanist."

Okay, so maybe this won't be as bad as I thought.

Higari leads me inside the church and down to the basement where the meeting is taking place. Ten empty chairs form a circle, and around the room, approximately seven or eight people engage in casual conversations. A short, chubby woman with green hair waves at Higari, and he hastens to join her. He doesn't strike me as someone who enjoys socializing, but perhaps there's something about this particular lady and her motherly aura.

"Oh, Higari! It's good to see you again," she beams, taking the short man's calloused hands in her own. If she's bothered by the dirt caked under his nails or the heavy scent of sawdust radiating off of him, she doesn't show it. 

Higari nods to me, a smile stretched on his chapped lips. "This is a friend of Aizawa's," Higari says. "Well, a friend of a friend of Aizawa's. He's a guitarist."

She looks at me, and I brace myself for a scowl or a scoff of judgment due to my tattoos, but instead, I'm greeted with the same warm smile. "Hello, darling. I'm Inko. It's nice to have a new face around here. If there's anything I can do you make you feel more comfortable, feel free to let me know."