Dear Shouta Aizawa

Hizashi's knee bounces nervously underneath the fancy restaurant table. For what seems the hundredth time that night he rakes his fingers through his blond hair, grimacing as he feels sweat matting the roots.

He doesn't think he's been this strung out since primary school when he came out to Shouta.

The usual relaxed chatter of diners all around does nothing to alleviate his anxiety and a tiny part of him wishes he'd never convinced himself to do what he was planning to do in approximately sixty to seventy minutes from...

Now.

Hizashi's eyes dart away from the restaurant's entrance as soon as he spots Shouta's silhouette slipping past the glass. He doesn't catch anything more than a glimpse of an neat dress shirt, but all the glimpse does is darken the pink flags already riding high upon his cheekbones.

He pretends his breathing is normal and waits for Shouta to find their table, picking at his nails and scrolling through his phone and doing anything he can to look as casual as possible.

"Happy anniversary, 'Zashi."

Damn it. The three words tear straight through Hizashi's paper-thin facade of calmness as he whips his head around.

Shouta is downright gorgeous as he makes his way past his boyfriend's side and settles himself into the booth. The cushioned seat creaks a little as he swings a bookbag off his shoulder, no doubt crammed full of test papers or something of the sort.

The man's signature stubble is gone, and his hair had been styled back with care. Hizashi doesn't recognize the smell of whatever product Shouta had used--he himself used the cheap bottles since he had to use the stuff by the handful when he did his own hair in the mornings--but whatever it was smelled fresh and clean and exotic and made Hizashi's heart do somersaults. Shouta was wearing a simple black dress shirt that looked like it had been meticulously pressed, and a pair black dress pants. They were even devoid of stray cat hairs.

So for a good half minute Hizashi simply stared at the Adonis, his Adonis, sitting casually across the restaurant table.

"Y-you look..." Hizashi fumbles for words, mentally kicking himself the entire time. "You look really nice."

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he wants to bury his face into a pillow and scream. Nice? Out of the plethora of synonyms provided by modern language the best he could muster was a shaky "nice"?

"Thanks." Shouta seems to take it in stride, however, and Hizashi lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Yagi helped me with my hair. Apparently shaving wasn't good enough for him."

"You look amazing, hon," Hizashi blurts before he can stop himself. He suddenly feels a little ashamed of his own messy bun and blue suede bomber jacket. "And happy anniversary!"

Shouta chuckles a little bit and puts his elbows onto the table, clasping his hands beneath his chin. "What's wrong?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I'm getting first date vibes from you."

Hizashi's hand goes up to rub at his neck as he lets out a small laugh. "Today just feels extra special," he says.

He isn't lying. The tiny rounded edge digging into the side of his leg through his pants pocket gives testimony enough to that.

"Let's order," Shouta suggests, taking a menu from the center of the table. "And then you can tell me all about your day."

Hizashi, no longer trusting his voice, simply nods his agreement and opens the laminated cover to examine the specials.

===

Shouta is bit tense over the course of dinner, Hizashi notices. It's not much, but enough to show in the way his boyfriend holds his shoulders or the way Shouta's half-lidded eyes settle on Hizashi a few seconds too long when he thinks Hizashi isn't looking.