The autumn wind rustled the leaves outside U.A.'s classroom windows, a faint chill in the air as the last class of the day wrapped up. Most of the students had already filed out, eager to get home or unwind, but two students lingered behind, as usual.
Shouta Aizawa—slouched at the back of the room, scribbling in his notebook, a constant fixture of tiredness and cold composure. He hadn't really made any close friends at U.A. Not that he had tried. But then there was Hizashi Yamada.
Yamada, with his wild, bright hair and louder-than-life presence, had this way of infecting the room with his energy. And for reasons Aizawa couldn't explain, he found it... comforting. No one had ever been this persistent, this constant in his life before.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of the day, Aizawa stood up, rubbing his eyes. He was exhausted. But before he could even gather his things, a voice broke through the quiet.
"Hey, Shouta!" Yamada's voice was loud, but not in the usual teasing way. There was something softer behind the usual cheer, something that made Aizawa pause.
He turned to see Yamada leaning against the doorframe, his usual grin in place but with a warmth in his eyes that Aizawa hadn't expected. "You planning to work yourself into the ground again?" Yamada asked, his voice light but with an underlying concern.
Aizawa rolled his eyes, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. "I'm fine," he muttered, though the exhaustion was evident in his tone.
Yamada pushed off from the doorframe and took a few steps toward him, not backing down. "Come on, I know you're not. You barely even sleep." He leaned against the desk next to Aizawa, arms crossed, his gaze softening. "I get it. You're serious about this. But... you don't have to do it all alone."
Aizawa paused at the words, looking at Yamada out of the corner of his eye. Yamada was persistent, and though Aizawa didn't particularly like it, he couldn't help but be drawn to him. There was something in the way Yamada cared—so openly, without reservation—that Aizawa couldn't ignore.
"You're... annoying," Aizawa muttered, the words almost fond, but he quickly brushed them aside. He wasn't the type to open up, not to anyone, and certainly not to someone like Yamada. But Yamada's eyes softened. He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping an octave. "I don't mind," he said quietly. "If you need someone to be around, I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."
The sincerity in Yamada's voice made Aizawa's chest tighten. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand why, when Yamada was this close, his heart seemed to beat a little faster, why the weight of those words seemed to settle deep in his bones.
"I didn't ask you to stay," Aizawa replied, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. But his gaze lingered on Yamada, and for a split second, he let his guard drop. Yamada noticed. He always noticed.
"I know you didn't," Yamada said, his smile softening into something more tender. "But you didn't tell me to go, either."
There was a pause, thick with unspoken words, before Yamada took another small step closer. The air between them shifted, the usual teasing energy replaced by something quieter, more intimate. Aizawa could feel it now—the weight of Yamada's presence, like it was pulling him in.
"I don't need you to protect me, Yamada," Aizawa said, his voice barely above a whisper, though there was no malice in the words. They were the closest thing to an admission that Aizawa had ever given. "I'm not... fragile.""I never said you were," Yamada replied, his voice low. He took another step closer, his hand gently resting on Aizawa's desk. His fingers brushed against Aizawa's, and for the briefest moment, neither of them pulled away.
Aizawa's breath caught in his throat. It was a simple touch, but it made his heart race. His thoughts were scattered. His mind, usually sharp and calculated, was hazy. He couldn't think straight, not with Yamada standing so close, looking at him with those eyes, like he could see straight through his usual defenses.
Yamada smiled, a soft, knowing grin. "You know, Shouta, you don't have to push me away," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not that annoying."
Aizawa swallowed, not sure how to respond. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to feel his chest tighten like this, his pulse quickening. He wasn't supposed to want to stay in this moment forever, to let the quiet intimacy between them stretch on without end.
Instead of replying, he reached for his bag, but his hand brushed against Yamada's again. He didn't pull away this time, even as his fingers trembled slightly. The warmth of Yamada's hand was enough to melt his reserve, even if just for a moment.
"I don't need anyone," Aizawa said again, but the words weren't as firm as they had been before. There was an uncertainty there now. A vulnerability that Yamada caught in a heartbeat.
"Shouta," Yamada said softly, and this time, his voice was filled with something more—something real. He gently cupped Aizawa's hand with his own, his thumb brushing lightly over his skin. "You don't need to do everything on your own. Not anymore."
Aizawa's chest tightened, and he found himself staring at Yamada's hand on his. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. His mind was clouded, and the words he had always used to keep people at a distance seemed... useless in the face of Yamada's quiet affection.
"I don't know what you're doing," Aizawa said, his voice barely audible, "but stop it."
Yamada tilted his head, a small, playful grin tugging at his lips, though there was a depth behind his eyes. "I'm just here, Shouta. For you. And if that bothers you..." He leaned in closer, his face inches from Aizawa's. "...then maybe you should just kiss me to shut me up."
Aizawa's breath hitched. His heart pounded in his chest as the words hung in the air, thick with tension and something more. The proximity between them seemed to close the distance in ways that were undeniable. And for the first time, Aizawa didn't pull away.
Instead, he did something that surprised them both—he leaned in, closing the gap between them.
It wasn't much. Just a soft brush of lips against lips. A kiss that was brief but lingered like the first hint of a storm. It wasn't a grand declaration. It didn't need to be. It was a simple moment, a quiet, intimate admission of everything they had been circling around for so long.
When they finally pulled away, Yamada was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes full of that spark Aizawa had grown so accustomed to. But this time, it was different. This time, it was for him.
"Well, well, Shouta," Yamada teased lightly, but his voice was softer than usual. "That's more like it."
Aizawa swallowed, his heart still racing. He didn't know what to say. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but he didn't need to say anything. Not yet. For once, he didn't have to. Yamada had found a way through his walls, and somehow, Aizawa didn't mind. Not anymore.
And as the late afternoon sun began to set, casting a warm glow across the room, Aizawa allowed himself to be present in this moment. Allowed himself to let go, just a little. For the first time, he didn't feel so alone.
