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Aizawa was beginning to worry that Hizashi was gone.
The Hizashi he was with now was relaxed, smiling slightly, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on his face. There was a slight breeze, and he seemed to enjoy the way it swam through his long blonde hair. He hummed along with the cicadas shrieking in the distance.
Yeah, this was not right.
“Are you sure you’re right?” Hizashi chuckled, breaking Aizawa out of his thoughts. “This is nice.”
“I’m positive, you hate nature,” Aizawa grumbled. Hizashi just shrugged and laid down, placing his hands behind his head as he sunk into the plush, zebra-striped throw blanket. The same one he had referred to that morning as “kind of gaudy, but okay.”
Aizawa sighed and took another sip of his juice pouch. It had been about three days since their run-in with the memory-erasing villain, and Hizashi wasn’t showing any signs of getting better. In fact, he was worrying Aizawa even more as time went on. It wasn’t just that he was drawing blanks; he was remembering things entirely wrong. The tackiest man Aizawa knew was referring to a simple zebra stripe pattern as gaudy. The normal Hizashi often complained that animal prints weren’t quite loud enough for his taste.
What’s worse, he suggested that an outdoor picnic in the park was the ideal setting for the two to work on exercising his memory.
“Okay, okay. So I hate nature. Sounds wrong, but that’s fine,” Hizashi mused. “What else do I hate?”
“You hate bugs, especially,” Aizawa began, counting his list off on his fingers. “Horror movies. The colors beige and khaki. Phrases like ‘man-purse’ and ‘man-leggings’ and shit like that.”
“They should just be called purses!” Hizashi yelled, exasperated, throwing his arms out. Aizawa lit up.
“Yes! That’s what you always say!”
Hizashi’s smile grew. “Yeah?”
“Yeah! Does that… did that make you remember anything?”
Hizashi furrowed his brow in thought.
“I don’t… think so,” he murmured. “I mean, I guess I know I’m very… bold with my fashion choices. To say the least.”
Aizawa smiled sadly.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You are.”
Aizawa bit his tongue. He wanted to tell Hizashi more. He wished he could just wrap his arms around the man and tell him everything: how he loved Hizashi’s over-the-top fashion, his irrational fear of bugs, his horrendous shriek he let out whenever there was a jump-scare in a movie. He wanted to tell him about how they met in class 1-A, got paired up for a training exercise on the first day, hated each other instantly, and then became best friends within the week. He wanted to remind him how they felt when they got their hero licenses only a few years ago, how Hizashi cried because he was so happy, how Aizawa wanted to cry too but held it in. He wanted to tell Hizashi about how their friendship had blossomed into a passionate romance.
But the last part would be a lie.
When Hizashi first got hit with this quirk, Nemuri had slapped Aizawa on the back and screamed that this was his chance. He could tell Hizashi that before being quirked, he had been Aizawa’s doting boyfriend. But that would be a cruel trick, both to Hizashi and Aizawa. He couldn’t force Hizashi to love him. It wouldn’t feel right in any way. Even if he ended up in dating Hizashi, it would have all been because of a lie. He couldn’t bear that.
Hizashi had to love him honestly or not at all. Aizawa would just have to deal with that.
In all honesty, Aizawa hated himself for not telling Hizashi how he felt before the memory-erasing villain attacked. He could finally get it off his chest, and then Hizashi would forget what he said, and their friendship wouldn’t be ruined. That was the main reason Aizawa wouldn’t tell Hizashi the truth. He knew Hizashi wasn’t going to reciprocate his feelings, and he had made peace with the heartbreak. But if the truth made Hizashi not want to be his friend anymore, he wouldn’t be able to stand it.
“So,” Hizashi broke the silence, rolling over to look at Aizawa. “We know what I hate. What do I like?”
Aizawa smiled.
“Loud music,” he began. “Any kind. As long as it’s loud.”
Hizashi smiled too.
“What’s my favorite?”
“God, you think you could pick a favorite?” Aizawa chuckled. “You have a least favorite. It’s shitty dance remixes of slow songs. The kind that sound like they just ripped some beat off a free music software and tacked it onto the song. Like they didn’t even try.”
Hizashi laughed. It was loud. He hadn’t laughed like that since he was quirked.
“That’s great,” he chuckled. “What else do I like? What are my hobbies?”
“Besides annoying the shit out of me?” Aizawa teased. “You like to pretend you have a radio show. That’s something you talk about wanting to do a lot. You call your friends ‘listener’ and refer to questions as ‘requests.’ It’s annoying as hell. But you also love being a pro hero. People think you just like being famous. But I know you really love making the world a better place. It’s not just that you take pride in it, either. You do it because it’s the right thing to do. You would do it even if nobody knew your name.”
Hizashi hummed.
“Wow,” he murmured. He made eye-contact with Aizawa. “I sound like I was a good person.”
“You are a good person.”
Hizashi sighed, still smiling. Aizawa jumped when he felt Hizashi touch his hand.
“Am I a good boyfriend, too?”
Aizawa just stared.
“What?”
Hizashi frowned. “Am I… not a good boyfriend?”
Aizawa continued to stare. He wasn’t sure he could properly hear Hizashi over the sound of his heart pounding.
“What?” Hizashi asked when Aizawa didn’t respond. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t… I never said we were dating.”
“Yeah, I know,” Hizashi replied, confused. “I know I don’t remember our relationship, but it wasn’t hard to figure out from context that you’re my boyfriend. I mean, I remember I love you. I don’t really remember when we started dating but it was probably, what, our first year at UA?” Hizashi propped himself up on his elbows. “I guess we weren’t too touchy-feely, since you haven’t kissed me at all in these past few days.”
More staring. Aizawa’s mouth hung open slightly.
“Hizashi, we… we’re not…” Aizawa sputtered. “We weren’t dating.”
Now Hizashi looked really confused.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. “I don’t remember much, but I’m not an idiot.” He paused. “Unless I am, and I’ve just had an unrequited secret crush on you this whole time.”
Aizawa couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Ah,” Hizashi said quietly. “That would explain why you hadn’t kissed me.” He chuckled sadly. “Guess we gotta find that memory villain and erase your memory so you can forget I said that.”
“Hizashi,” Aizawa said finally. “How do you remember that you love me?”
Hizashi shrugged. “How could I forget? It was the first thing I remembered after being quirked. ‘I’m Yamada Hizashi, I’m a twenty-two-year-old man, and the man next to me makes me happier than anyone else.'”
Aizawa’s heart was still pounding. Louder and louder.
“That’s just not the kind of thing you can forget,” Hizashi mumbled. “My quirk and profession? Sure. How did I end up in this scenario? Don’t know. What’s my favorite color? Don’t care. Who’s been on my mind, by my side, and in my heart every day for years? This guy. Do I know his name? Maybe not. Do I know I love him? Unquestionably.”
Another pause.
“I guess I also remember being kind of a cornball.”
Finally, Aizawa laughed. It shook him from the inside out. He laughed louder. At Hizashi’s words. At the situation. At himself.
He fell onto his back next to Hizashi, a soft thump as his back hit the ground. He grabbed Hizashi’s hand.
“You’re definitely a cornball,” he said. “And I’m a dumbass.”
“I… kinda remember that too,” Hizashi laughed. “So we’re… not dating?”
“We are now.”
“Ah, thank god,” Hizashi sighed. “I was worried I was gonna die if you didn’t kiss me soon.”
Aizawa leaned in. He kissed him softly.
“Here. Saved your life.”
“Thanks, Shouta. I’ll remember that.”