âI accidently fell asleep on your shoulder on the train and now you probably think iâm weirdâ erasermight!!!
Public transit was easy for Aizawa Shouta. One of the perks of insisting on keeping your face out of the media was that a hoodie and a grumpy stare was usually enough to keep even the most knowledgeable of hero fans off of your case. Reporters werenât a problem; the likelihood of a pro hero conspicuously hopping on the bus wasnât something they really expected, so they tended not to bother paying much attention there.
Aizawa assumed it had been much the same for Toshinori, up until the Kamino Ward incident.
âIt might be easier on you if you stop taking the train,â Aizawa advised, unsolicited, plunking down in one of the six seats that had opened up for Toshinori the second heâd stepped into the subway car; whether or not theyâd opened because All Might had been recognized or because Toshinori looked as though he had one foot already in the grave, it was hard to say. Toshinori gave a start as Aizawa dropped his hoodie over his head, effectively covering his dandelion mane. Most of the gawkers took the hint to shut their mouths and avert their eyes the second Aizawaâs bloodshot stare turned in their direction. âIt might be smarter to start driving to your classes.â
âI suppose so,â Toshinori murmured, slouching far enough down in his seat that he was almost at eye level with Aizawa; his legs curled awkwardly underneath the seat, doing his best not to scatter his limbs into the way of others as he gave a gentle cough. âThere is a danger to me operating a vehicle on my own, however. Iâve been advised against it, and with my body the way it is now, walking is even less advisable, Iâm afraid.â
Toshinori smiled, sheepishly, but he smiled none the less, no doubt to lessen Aizawaâs concern for him, which was carefully kept from showing in his expression.
âCabs are too expensive,â Aizawa elaborated in agreement. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching out of his peripheral as Toshinori arranged his hoodie to drape around his shoulders, resting the hood properly over his head with a deep sigh. âI guess Iâll be keeping you company, then. Itâs a hassle when youâre late for class and if you get accosted by fans every dayâŚâ
Aizawa trailed off, fixing Toshinori with a grouchy stare: no amount of apathetic justification was going to keep the sentient sunflower seated beside him from literally glowing in delight.
âJust keep your damn head down,â Aizawa gruffed, pressing his palm to the top Toshinoriâs head and giving him a delicate shove.
And keep his head down Toshinori did, every morning at 7:36 A.M. when he stepped onto the third train car on the Endor Line, and his eyes zeroed in on Aizawa Shoutaâs slouched form, an extra hoodie draped over his shoulder in case Toshinori had forgotten to cover up, as he often did.
He kept his head so far down, in fact, that his too-bright-too-early face could nearly be mistaken for being rested on Aizawaâs shoulder out of some gross, public display of affection and not out of the necessity of obscuring his face every morning from snoopy, probing eyes that always seemed to find something more interesting elsewhere the second they met Shoutaâs gaze.
This morning, Aizawa realized with a start, it wasnât a mistake.
Well, the shoulder thing, not the public display of affection â
Aizawa bristled, but quickly relaxed as Toshinori gave a sharp inhale from the jostle. The man was fast asleep, and Aizawa was enraged and confused that he still somehow managed to glow, even unconscious. He reached up, fingers getting caught in soft wisps of gold as he made to tug the hood of Toshinoriâs sweater â his sweater â further down over Toshinoriâs sharp cheekbone. The rock of the train was soothing, and Aizawa really couldnât blame Toshinori for falling asleep; heâd have done the same every morning if not for the very real danger of missing his stop.
Not that heâd done that before.
Their knees jostled together comfortably for the duration of the train ride, and it was with a pang of regret (that was squashed promptly, mind) that Aizawa knocked his leg more firmly against Toshinoriâs to wake him with a small start. Toshinori inhaled sharply through his noise, hand coming up quickly to stifle a cough as he moved to sit up. He blinked at Aizawa groggily, and the shorter man clarified with a curt, âThis is our stop.â
âOh, goodness, Iâm so sorry,â Toshinori seemed to clue in as Aizawa moved to stand, scrubbing the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He moved to follow. âI didnât intend to fall asleep on you like that, that was incredibly rude of me ââ
The train screeched to a halt, and Aizawa put a practiced hand up to catch Toshinori before the gangly man stumbled too hard into him. Aizawa steadied him, ignoring him as blue eyes zeroed in on the very obvious damp patch seeped into Aizawaâs shoulder. âItâs fine.â
Toshinori was steaming out the ears. âI dââ
âWeâll take turns,â Aizawa shrugged, shuffling out the door with a small group of strangers to avoid missing the door. Toshinori followed behind him like a cloud of nerves shaped vaguely like a man. âThen itâs not rude.â
âYagi,â Aizawa stopped in the middle of the platform, braced for Toshinori already as the taller man bumped right into him. Around them, passersby parted like a stream of water around a boulder, too focused now on getting where they needed to go to have time to gawk at the odd pair. âI told you itâs fine.â
Aizawa turned to walk away from him, and on impulse, Toshinoriâs hand wrapped around Aizawaâs much smaller one to avoid losing him in the crowd.
Aizawaâs grip wasnât firm in return, but it wasnât limp, either. It was fine.
âI said it was fine.â
Toshinori beamed. It was fine.
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