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“You smell…different.”
Shouta had to pause at Deku’s statement. The vigilante was sitting next to him on the ledge of the rooftop. His sneaker-clad feet swung back and forth like he was a child. He could be, Shouta supposed. Not a young child, but a teenager maybe. It was hard to nail it down with Deku.
Especially when he randomly said weird shit like that.
“How do I normally smell?”
“Like Eraserhead,” Deku said after a minute. “But now it’s Eraserhead but different. Not bad. More apples.”
Oh. Huh. Maybe Deku did have some sort of sensory quirk. Shouta ran out of his shampoo and Hizashi had “generously” allowed him to use his fancy brand until he had enough time to run to the store. His new…boyfriend? Boyfriend was a word, but it made Shouta feel all of sixteen again.
How do you describe the person that you finally allowed to make you feel whole after years of denying yourself? It was all terribly maudlin in his head, but he did. Deny himself. Being with Hizashi was like breathing sweet fresh air after drowning for decades.
After also dying to a Nomu at the USJ.
“I’m seeing someone,” he said, feeling ridiculous telling the possible teen vigilante. “It’s new.”
“That sounds nice,” Deku said. “I don’t think that I’ll ever find anyone like that. People tend not to…like me.”
Well, that put the vigilante’s own self-sacrificial tendencies and dangerous gambits into terrifying perspective. He doesn’t think Deku is suicidal. Shouta wouldn’t let him run around if he did, but it did explain some things.
“People don’t tend to like me either,” Shouta said after a long moment between them. “It’s something you get used to. If you want.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Keep putting yourself out there. It sounds stupid, I know. But if you do it enough, then you can get adopted by an extrovert and suddenly you have people who give a shit about you. Of course, then you have to deal with people. Which is terrible as well, especially if they’re idiots.”
“Just full of the warmth toward your fellow man, huh?” Deku asked, bringing one of his legs up.
“You can have love toward your fellow man and sympathy toward their plight when they are in legitimate danger,” Shouta said. “You do not, and are under no obligation, to like them very much.”
The two of them sat side by side for several long seconds. Below them, there were sounds of traffic both vehicular and foot. Someone in the apartment building they were sitting on had their window open and was playing music. It was as peaceful as a patrol could get honestly.
Deku eventually broke the contemplative silence.
“Is it weird that I find that comforting?”
Shouta shrugged, “Take it or leave. I’m not in the business of providing meaningless platitudes.”
“Except to your paramour.”
Shouta searched his brain for the word, “Like the pre-qurik emo band?”
“Congrats on having good musical tastes,” the vigilante said. “But it’s another word for lover, a fancy one. But you don’t seem like the type of guy who uses the word boyfriend because it sounds too juvenile.”
An analysis quirk. It had to be something passive. Deku just read people too well. Shouta sighed and accepted the fact that one of his friends was now a possibly teenage vigilante.
“I hate that you’re right.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Deku assured again. “Apple hair and all. Do they make you happy?”
Shouta considered the statement. Hizashi made him happy before they started dating.
“They make me believe that I deserve to be happy,” he eventually said. “And I think that’s the more important thing than being happy.”
“You’re blushing, Eraserhead,” Deku said, teasingly.
Even with the vocal synthesizer the vigilante used, he could hear the amusement in his voice. Shouta rolled his eyes.
“Shut up.”
“Never. You love our little chats.”
God help him, Shouta did.
In the distance, they both heard a scream.
“You got it or is it my turn?” Deku asked.
“You can join me,” Shouta said already running across the rooftop. He’s planning on having Nedzu get the paperwork in order for Deku to be his apprentice.
He’s definitely going to relish the look on the vigilante’s face when he drops that little tidbit of information.