Comfort Part One

He didn't quite know what he expected when Aizawa led him into his house. The fact that Aizawa was taking him home with him didn't even fully hit him until he walked through the door that his teacher held open for him.

Hitoshi stopped in the small entryway, looking around the brightly lit house, barely able to breathe. His heart felt like it was about to pound to a stop in his chest and he tried to gather himself, trying to keep the shocked, bewildered look off of his face. This house—it was like the exact opposite of the one he lived in with his foster family. The first thing that hit him was the warmth, quickly shaking the cold outside from his body, making Shinsou's skin light up with sensation the moment he walked in. The second thing was the light—the house was bright. Bright and welcoming and everything his foster home wasn't.

Hitoshi forced himself to breathe, letting out a slow breath as he made an attempt to relax himself. He'd let himself put his trust in Aizawa and Aizawa had taken him back to someplace warm and safe, two concepts that were almost entirely foreign to Hitoshi by now. He hadn't known what to expect, but it wasn't this—this open, clean house that felt inviting and friendly. It was a place clearly lived in, though free of clutter and dirt, the house open with the living room, dining room, and kitchen all connected. The lights in the open room were on, brightly illuminating everything, and quietly, Hitoshi could hear music playing from a radio next to a bookcase full of books and magazines.

There wasn't a lot of furniture, but there was enough to make the room feel comfortable. A couch, a television, a couple bookcases, the radio, a stand-up keyboard, even a kotatsu that looked appropriately inviting. In the far corner of the room, near the windows, was what looked to be a cat tree and as Hitoshi's nerves started to calm, he spotted a couple scratching posts and beds placed around the room, and Hitoshi remembered Aizawa saying he had cats.

Hitoshi forced himself to look away, dropping his gaze and slowly, with automatic movements, he copied what Aizawa was doing, taking off his shoes and shrugging off his coat and winter gear before Aizawa silently took it from him, and tossed it in the closet next to the entryway. Hitoshi couldn't look at him, not with the way he'd been staring and looking around the room and not with all the questions circling in his head, but he could feel Aizawa's dark eyes on him, his gaze feeling like it was burning a hole straight through his body.

"You're shaking," He heard, Aizawa's voice soft in the quiet of the rest of the room. Hitoshi managed to raise his head a little, looking at Aizawa from under the purple hair that had fallen into his face from the cold weather outside, and he breathed out again, exhaling slowly to try to force himself to calm down.

"I'm still a little cold from outside," He lied, willing his body to stop trembling. He kept his breathing even, daring to glance around again. He could hear sounds from the other rooms, and his eyes followed the noise to one of the doors leading off from the main room, and from what little of it he could see, he guessed it was a bedroom, meaning that the noise was most likely coming from the person Hitoshi knew Aizawa was close with—Yamada Hizashi, the head of the English department at UA.

"Hitoshi," Hitoshi looked back at him at the sound of his name, as if Aizawa had given him an order to do so. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his mind was going around in circles and he hadn't yet completely processed that he was here, in Aizawa's house, because his teacher had offered to let him come home with him. This was the same thing he'd imagined when things got rough—Aizawa Shouta, his childhood hero, mentor, and the only real parental figure in his life taking him in. He almost couldn't believe it, and he made himself look at Aizawa, not allowing himself to look away as the man spoke to him quietly and bluntly, "You don't need to worry about being here. I wouldn't have offered if I hadn't wanted you to come back here."

Hitoshi just stared at him.

Wanted him to come back here? That—he wanted to say it couldn't be true, but the fact of the matter was that Aizawa had never let him down or lied to him and he didn't really see a rational reason as to why he would start now. He was letting himself put his trust in Aizawa, the only adult he'd even let himself do this with, and as much as he wanted to trust and believe that statement, it felt wrong. No one had ever wanted him. Everyone had just dealt with him because Hitoshi needed somewhere to go and the system couldn't actually just throw him on the streets until he turned eighteen. No one had wanted him. They'd wanted the paycheck that came from taking care of him, maybe, but not actually him, and that was something Hitoshi had just grown used to over the years. No one wanted a kid with a dangerous quirk and a file full of infractions.

It felt completely wrong to hear that someone wanted him to stay with them, even if it was only for tonight. He couldn't argue with it though, because truthfully, Aizawa hadn't had to do this. There was no real benefit to him offering to take Hitoshi back here, not for Aizawa. Even if it was a cluttered, dirty foster home, Hitoshi did actually have a house to go back to, but Aizawa had offered to take him back here, had done so without a second thought and with fully knowing the potential consequences. Even Hitoshi couldn't find any other reason for Aizawa doing this, other than he'd just wanted to.

"Okay," He said quietly, almost too quietly for himself to hear. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, and here, in the silence of the rest of the room, feeling like he was cut off from the horribleness of the world standing in the entryway with Aizawa, he finally gave voice to the one question that had stuck around in his head, "Do I have to go back?"

There was no hesitation, not even a pause between Hitoshi's question and Aizawa's answer. It was like he didn't even have to think about it, "No. I'd rather you didn't. When I told you that you could stay with me, I didn't mean as a temporary thing."

The breathlessness was back, and Hitoshi felt like the air had just been knocked from his lungs. He still found the strength to talk, though, his voice shaking a little as he did, "Is that really alright…?"

"Yes," Aizawa stared at him, expression never changing. He was stoic and blunt, but Hitoshi's face felt hot and there was a tight pressure in his throat as he struggled to understand. It was so simple, right there in front of him, Aizawa always holding his gaze with his dark, tired eyes, and his tone was still soft when he went on, "You don't have to worry. I'll take care of everything. I'll do the home visit tomorrow, but even if it goes well, you're still going to come home with me."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. A fact. There was no room for argument, and Hitoshi didn't try, even at the mention of the home visit again. He didn't know how Aizawa planned on still having him come back here afterwards or what was going to happen, but he trusted Aizawa, as much as he hated the idea of putting his trust in anyone. If there was one thing he'd learned from training with him over the last few months, it was that when Aizawa told him something, he meant it. That included promises, and things like this. Hitoshi decided to trust him—if Aizawa said that he could still come home with him regardless of the outcome of the home visit, then he'd find a way to make that happen.

Hitoshi just nodded, glancing away from Aizawa again. The noise from the rest of the house filtered back in, and Hitoshi lingered in the entryway with Aizawa, almost waiting, and he didn't even know what he was waiting for until the noise from the bedroom stopped, the door swung the rest of the way open, and Hitoshi stared as he looked over a man he'd only seen in passing before.

Being in the general education department, Hitoshi didn't see a lot of the teachers that the heroics department did. Heroics was prioritized and tended to get the most high-profile teachers. Even Aizawa taught things besides heroics courses—math and ethics, mainly—and Hitoshi didn't have him for any actual classes. The same went for English. Hitoshi knew, in passing, who the head of the English department was and had seen the loud radio host at various events, but he'd never been taught by him.

And honestly, if Aizawa hadn't told him ahead of time who was going to be home, there was no way Hitoshi would've recognized him.

Present Mic was a famous radio and television personality, a high-publicity hero. Hitoshi knew him from his loud, flashy persona, with the leather outfits and the trademark hair. He knew him from the unique use of his powerful voice quirk, the way he'd use it to announce and host events, and his way of speaking, with his excitability and energy.

So it was a little hard to recognize the calm, mature man who came out of the bedroom, with his hair pulled into a bun and dressed down in a normal shirt and sweatpants. If it wasn't for the mustache and the wide, toothy grin he flashed at him, Hitoshi would've thought that this was someone completely different. But no, this was Present Mic in his civilian clothes, and by now, from being mentored by Aizawa for the last couple months, Hitoshi was one of the few people who actually knew him better as Yamada Hizashi.

He'd never actually met the guy, having only listened to his radio show a couple times and seen him at the sports festival and other school events, and Hitoshi was a little surprised to see him looking so calm and quiet in his personal life. Yamada smiled wide at him, not ignoring him for a second, his entire face seeming to glow along with his grin, and he immediately recognized the man's voice when he spoke to him, even if his tone was much slower and softer than he was used to from him.

"Ah, you're Shinsou Hitoshi!" Yamada gave him an excited wave before crossing the room to them, not even hesitating as he reached out for Aizawa-sensei, tangling his hands in the scarf Aizawa's had around his neck, pulling it looser as he began to unwind it from him. Hitoshi just stared in shock at his affectionate action, and Yamada never dropped his gaze, words picking up in both pace and volume a little, "I've heard so much about you! All good things, though. Shouta loves to tell me all about your training sessions and how fast of a learner you are—"

"Hizashi—" Aizawa was no longer looking at Hitoshi, instead groaning at Yamada and glaring at him from under his bangs, and if it were any other situation, Hitoshi might've laughed, because he rarely ever saw Aizawa show so much emotion, even if it was irritation.

"Hush," Yamada scolded, though his tone sounded playful. He finished unwinding the scarf from Aizawa's neck, Aizawa making no move to push him away or stop him as he did so. Yamada stepped away, giving Aizawa one last look over before turning back to Hitoshi, "In any case, it's nice to finally meet you! You can go ahead and sit down or look around, but I'm gonna steal Shouta for a few minutes."

The implication was clear enough. They were stepping away to talk. About him.

"Sure," He said simply, keeping his voice and expression neutral. He wasn't about to show his feelings, not around this new guy, this person he'd never met before. Yamada gave him another bright, happy smile, his hand closing around Aizawa-sensei's wrist as he started to pull him away. Aizawa went without a word, without looking back, letting Yamada pull him into the bedroom he'd just come from. The door shut with a quiet noise, leaving Hitoshi alone in the bright room, still standing in the entryway.

He didn't really have to wonder what they were talking about. It didn't take a lot of thinking to figure it out. Aizawa had offered to let him stay here without talking to Yamada. He didn't know what they were, but they were obviously close, judging from the way Aizawa had allowed Yamada to touch him earlier. He expected arguing, for Yamada to be upset that Aizawa had taken Hitoshi back here without even calling him, but none of that came, even as Hitoshi stood in the entryway, waiting, waiting for the yelling to come.

It was his curiosity that made him finally creep forward and dare to go further into the house. The first step was the hardest and Hitoshi felt like he had to force himself into the carpet living room. It was easier—just slightly—after that, but Hitoshi stood for a moment, next to the couch, staring into the welcoming, warm house. It was surreal. This was where Aizawa lived. He didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't something so… so normal.

He took another step, finding some of the tension easing off of him. He breathed slowly, feeling the soft carpet beneath his feet. He was curious, too curious, and he couldn't hear anything coming from that room that Aizawa and Yamada had disappeared into. There was no arguing or yelling. There was just quiet. He didn't make the conscious decision to try and get closer in order to hear what was going on; it just happened and somehow, Hitoshi found himself creeping forward until he was near the pair of doors on the other side of the room, having been careful to not make any noise.

His heart beat wildly in his chest, loud enough that he was terrified Aizawa was going to hear it behind the door. He dared to go further, lingering next to the staircase, just beside the closed door. He leaned forward, holding his breath, and waited and finally, finally heard a soft voice from the other side of the door.

"—You want me to go pick up the paperwork tonight?"

That was Yamada, though it was in no way the way he usually recognized his voice. It wasn't loud or excited, more soft and—concerned. He was talking quietly, his words clearly directed at Aizawa and he sounded worried, not angered or annoyed.

"Are you alright with that?" That was Aizawa, his voice the same as ever, though he was obviously trying to be quieter than normal. His voice was stoic and low, though there was something in it, something that Hitoshi had heard earlier, earlier when Aizawa had talked to him on the way to the bakery, when he'd firmly told Hitoshi he was going to do the home visit.

"Sure," Yamada again, his voice picking up a little. "You said he's a little sick, right? He seems pretty comfortable with you. Leave the paperwork to me and you stay here and look after him. I'll make dinner when I'm home. It shouldn't take too long. Make the report, request some custody paperwork, make a few calls—it'll be easy."

No—there was no way they were talking like this. He had to be mishearing. Aizawa hadn't even called Yamada after leaving the train station. Why was he so nonchalant about this? Why were they both so nonchalant about this? This was a huge thing, and the fact that they were even discussing a custody transfer opened up an even bigger hole in Hitoshi's chest. It was hard to talk about whether or not he was going home. When Aizawa had told him that he didn't have to, he logically knew that something had to happen legally, but a custody transfer—

He wasn't an idiot. He knew what those words meant. And he knew it was just a more legally-correct way of talking about adoption.

There was no way this was happening.

No, they couldn't be talking about actually adopting him.

Hitoshi had been in foster care from the time he was four. Eleven, almost twelve years. It was all he knew. Adoption was a thing for other kids, the kids in the group homes or foster homes that didn't have dangerous quirks and weren't labelled problem children. Adoption had never been a real possibility for him.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it—about Aizawa actually taking him in. It'd always been just a fantasy and lately, Hitoshi had only been letting himself think about the more realistic scenario of living in the dorms, because fantasizing about things only led to disappointment and living in the dorms was the closest he'd thought he was going to get. His mind wandered sometimes, though, and landed on Aizawa actually taking him in. He hadn't thought it was possible, thinking that Aizawa was the type of person who wanted at least some professional distance between them and taking him in would destroy that. He'd shoved that idealistic scenario down, telling himself that there was no way Aizawa would ever do that and even if he would, he'd quickly see why Hitoshi had changed hands so much in foster care.

Part of him just couldn't imagine it, either. He'd never been part of a normal home. He couldn't imagine Aizawa losing his temper on him like his foster parents constantly did, nor could he imagine what it'd be like in place of that. He had no idea what it was like being the only child in a house, and he had no idea what a functioning family was like. The closest he'd ever gotten to having a real parent was his days with Aizawa after training or when they didn't train at all, but it didn't seem possible that things could be like that all the time.

Sooner or later, he'd see. Sooner or later, Hitoshi would do something that would make him angry enough that he'd understand why Hitoshi had been passed from foster home to foster home his entire life. He just hadn't seen it yet because as much time as he spent with Hitoshi, at the end of the day, Hitoshi always got on that train and went back to his foster home. He didn't have to deal with him all day, everyday.

He let out the breath he'd been holding, focusing on listening again. Thinking like this—it wasn't actually getting him anywhere. Out there, when he'd walked home with Aizawa, he'd told himself that he was going to trust him, as much as he'd never wanted to put his trust in an adult. Trust him and do what he said and not worry about it. It was hard, almost impossible, but Hitoshi forced himself to the ground, breathing in the warm air of the house, staring around the living room at the bright lights and comfortable furniture, listening to the two in the bedroom as he tried not to ruminate or think about anything other than where he was and what he was going on right now.

"Thanks," Aizawa paused, a small silence falling on the other side of the door. Hitoshi heard a footstep, as if one of them had closed the distance between them, and they suddenly sounded much closer, both to each other and the door, "He has some sort of chest infection. If you could pick up something for that—he has antibiotics, but anything else that'll help him."

"Sure. I can stop by the store on the way home."

There was another short pause, some rustling, and then the handle of the door was rattling and Hitoshi stared at it, wide-eyed, realizing it was too late to move away without looking suspicious, not that he could if he tried, given that he still felt like he was in shock. His heart beat hard in his ears, the rhythm fast and painful, and Hitoshi held his breath, terrified that he'd break out into a fit of coughing. He could only look up when the door opened, unable to hide what he'd been doing, standing incriminatingly close to the door, still leaned forward.

Aizawa was the one who met his gaze, and Hitoshi wanted to disappear into the floor or curl up and die, knowing he'd been caught.

He waited for the anger and annoyance, but Aizawa only raised an eyebrow at him and Hitoshi swore he saw a hint of a smirk on his lips, "Eavesdropping?"

Hitoshi looked anywhere but at him, settling for staring at the window behind Aizawa, if only to make it look like he was still holding eye contact with him. His face burned and he inhaled sharply, forcing himself to keep his head up and not stare at the floor in embarrassment, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," There was no hesitation, and Aizawa stepped out of the room, Yamada following him. Hitoshi glanced at him, watching as Aizawa pulled the door to the room mostly shut, acting like it was no big deal that he'd just caught Hitoshi listening in on their conversation. "Hizashi's going to go pick some things up. I'll be staying here with you."

"A report—" Hitoshi said, trying to keep his voice even. He was failing, uncertainty seeping into it with every word, "—You're going to make a report?"

Aizawa's expression didn't change in the least. He was hard to read and Hitoshi looked him over, searching hard for any signs of anger or hesitance, only finding the usual tired, stoic expression Aizawa wore, "It's logical. You don't want to go back to your foster home. I told you that you can stay with us. I have to file a report before I can do anything."

Hitoshi glanced to the side at Yamada, who was in the process of pulling on a coat and scarf, holding a ring of keys between his fingers. Hitoshi didn't argue, closing his mouth and frowning, body stiff as Yamada smiled a gentle grin at him, giving him another wave, "I'll see you later! Feel free to look around while I'm gone!"

Hitoshi didn't say anything and with a slam of the front door and a gust of cold wind from the outside, he was left alone with Aizawa again. Hitoshi couldn't look at him, shaking slightly as he tilted his head up, staring a the ceiling, hoping that that was at least a little more respectful than looking at the floor, "...Custody. You guys are going to try…"

He trailed off. The word 'adoption' and everything related to it was foreign to him. He was fifteen years old and had been in foster care for eleven years at this point. Adoption was an idea that had stopped being a possibility when he'd been labelled a problem child. With that and his quirk… the best option for getting out had become to age out of the system and hope for the best. He'd lived for a decade just trying to stick it out and wait.

He still couldn't believe this was happening. It didn't feel possible. It didn't feel real.

Today had been normal. It'd been completely usual and commonplace, right up until Aizawa had brought up the possibility of a home visit. Everything had spiraled from there, from the way Aizawa had confronted him while they'd been walking to Hitoshi admitting that he hadn't wanted to go home and deciding not to get on that train the moment Aizawa told him he didn't have to. Things had been so normal earlier, and now he was somehow standing in Aizawa's house while his childhood hero talked about getting custody over him.

He didn't really know how things had escalated this far. He'd admitted to not wanting to go home, and now he was here.

"Adoption is the rational thing here, isn't it?" Hitoshi didn't answer; he knew it was a rhetorical question. Aizawa continued on without missing a beat. "You don't want to go back. I would rather not let you go back. We're fine with taking you in. It's the rational answer, unless you'd rather go somewhere else."

"No!" Hitoshi immediately said, the word coming out of his mouth faster than he could process an actual, intelligible sounding answer. His chest itched with his sudden reaction and Hitoshi forced himself to swallow down a fit of coughing, rubbing at the back of his neck in his usual nervous habit, "I mean—This… really isn't your job."

He dared to raise his eyes to look at Aizawa, but he had to quickly glance away again, feeling like his teacher's dark eyes were burning holes straight through him. Aizawa had an intense stare and could be incredibly intimidating, and Hitoshi didn't know if he realized that. He stared like a cat would—intensely and almost entirely without blinking, and it didn't really help that Aizawa's eyes were near-black, making his expression that much harder to read. It was times like these where he had no idea if Aizawa meant to look as serious as he did, or if it was just his natural state of being.

His voice, however, was softer when he spoke, saying similar words to the ones he had before, "This isn't me 'doing my job'. I'm not saying this as your teacher. I'm not even saying this as your mentor. And I'm not doing this because I have to."

The itch in his chest was burning more, and Hitoshi didn't even allow himself to breathe, letting the silence fall between the two of them. He looked out the window, avoiding glancing at Aizawa, and exhaled slowly, his body betraying him as the breath turned into a weak cough. With that, he knew the conversation was over, Hitoshi raising a hand as he coughed a few more times, each one growing more violent until his chest stung and his eyes watered and he tried to swallow the rest, keeping his mouth shut as he stopped.

"Go sit down," Aizawa told him, Hitoshi still bent over, now staring at the floor, his hand still covering his mouth. He took a test breath in, lungs itching as he did so, and gave a last cough through his closed mouth. He started to stand back up, looking at the couch and how comfortable it seemed, and then nodded.

He made his way back into the main area of the house, hesitating before sitting himself down on the couch, drawing his knees into his chest and curling up on one end of it, intentionally trying to take up as little space as possible. It was comfortable, and it made Hitoshi feel a little better to sit down. He hadn't really noticed how much his body had started to ache until he did. It was a side effect of his infection—the achiness covering his body and seeping into his limbs. It felt much better to be able to sit down and curl himself against the end of the couch, and Hitoshi finally let himself breathe a sigh of relief.

He was tired, too. He'd been tired ever since the train station. Or, maybe he wasn't tired. He was exhausted more than anything. He wasn't sleepy so much as his mind was just tired of working, tired of thinking and hesitating and trying to analyze things. Hitoshi had always been good at watching people, at taking situations and thinking them over and noticing different things. He was good at convincing people without using his quirk just because he'd listened for so much of his life. But sometimes he just wanted to stop. The thing was—he'd never really been able to let himself stop until now. Being in foster care meant having his guard up all the time. Everyone wanted something from him and no one could be completely trusted, so Hitoshi had never let himself stop analyzing things.

Now that he was somewhere new, with someone he'd decided to trust, despite never trusting any adult completely, he could just stop. He'd already unconsciously been letting his guard down around Aizawa. It'd happened gradually over the last few months, until Hitoshi started being able to speak more freely by default and trust Aizawa to help him with things, and now that he was here—he just wanted to stop thinking and give his mind a rest for once.

"I'm tired," He said quietly, half to himself, half just wanting to fill the silence of the room. Aizawa didn't speak a lot and Hitoshi still wasn't quite used to it. He always wanted to fill the empty space between them with words, even if he knew the silence didn't mean Aizawa was angry at Hitoshi.

"Then sleep."

Hitoshi raised his head, seeing Aizawa in the kitchen, holding a metal kettle. The room was open and Hitoshi could easily see into the kitchen and could easily hear Aizawa from where he was standing. He sunk down a little, realizing that if he could see Aizawa, then he could see Hitoshi, and part of him just wanted to hide his expression from everyone right now because for the first time in a long time, he was having trouble controlling his emotions.

"What do I tell my foster parents?"

"Nothing," Aizawa replied immediately. Hitoshi heard the noise of the metal kettle being set down, the turn of a dial on the stove, and the flicker of the flame starting. "Let me deal with them. Ignore any calls or messages you get from them. Don't say a word to them and don't look at anything they say."

Hitoshi reached for his cellphone, the device tucked into the bag that he'd set down near the couch earlier, when he'd gone to eavesdrop on Aizawa and Yamada's conversation. The screen was slightly cracked, but when he turned it on, he could still read the time, the minutes ticking by until curfew. Something gnawed at his stomach, a feeling of dread that he'd grown used to over the years. It was an automatic reaction to seeing the clock so close to curfew time and not being home—he felt it whenever he missed his train or the trains were running late or delayed or the weather was bad. Now, it was worse than ever, because he didn't have any control over what was going to happen with them. Ignore them—that didn't even feel possible, and Hitoshi hated the thought of Aizawa having to listen to his foster parents in their usual anger at Hitoshi not making it home in time.

Their anger had always been his responsibility to deal with. It was just a fact of life that he'd accepted over the years of living with them. Pushing that responsibility onto someone else felt wrong.

He sunk down a little further, still curled into himself, though now he was basically lying on the pillow. Silently, he unlocked his phone, looking through the few messages he had, all of them read. None of them were from his foster parents or any of his foster siblings. There were a couple from his classmates, mostly consisting of messaging about what homework assignments they were given. Recently, he'd acquired Midoriya Izuku's number, though Hitoshi hadn't messaged him much beyond the initial one to give him his number. The most messages he had were actually from Aizawa, and he scrolled through that conversation, reading over the messages.

It wasn't anything special—usually just messages containing a time and address to meet at or asking for confirmation on something, but it was the most messages he had from anyone. His call log was similar, full of short calls to and from his teacher, with longer, infrequent calls from his foster parents. There was one call, a call he'd placed to Aizawa at four in the morning about a week ago, and Hitoshi stared at that entry, remembering that night. He hadn't been able to sleep and had been hurting from a confrontation with his foster parents, so his solution had been to call Aizawa at four in the morning after a lot of deliberation. He remembered that night well, sitting outside his foster home, and he remembered that his teacher hadn't been angry at him for calling so late and that he'd actually had a conversation with Hitoshi.

Raising his head slightly, Hitoshi peeked over the top of the pillow he was slumped against.

From here, he could see into the kitchen. There were cabinets hanging from the ceiling and Hitoshi could see the back of the stove and the counters and through the opening, he could see his teacher, Aizawa standing near the stove, leaned up against a counter, doing something on his phone and not looking at Hitoshi. It gave him a chance to observe him. He'd been hanging around Aizawa for the last few months, but he'd never seen him this at home. He looked like he belonged here, seeming completely relaxed and at ease, not looking worried or particularly stoic as he stared down at his phone, dark hair falling over his face. He just looked normal—neutral, relaxed, comfortable. Like it was no different having Hitoshi here.

"...What about Yamada?" Hitoshi's voice fell in the silence of the room. It was the question he'd had on his mind since overhearing their conversation, and he hadn't wanted to ask, almost feeling like if he did, he was stepping into territory that he couldn't walk away from. He watched carefully, as Aizawa looked up from his phone, giving him a glance, expression not changing.

"What about him?"

"Don't you need to talk to him about this?" He still wasn't sure what Yamada and Aizawa's actual relationship was, but there was no doubt that they were close. Close enough that Aizawa hadn't even seemed surprised when Yamada had touched him and messed with his scarf earlier. He didn't know if they were dating or just close friends, but regardless, that didn't change things. Yamada lived here too, and it felt… unfair for Aizawa to make the just decision to take him in without talking to him much, even if Yamada had sounded fine with it earlier.

He didn't have to wait long for a response. The kettle on the stove blared, starting off with a low, quiet whistle that quickly rose into a high pitched screech that made Hitoshi duck his head, gritting his teeth as Aizawa took it off the burner, the shrieking dying back down as he set it on the counter. He answered him, then, Hitoshi peeking back up to see that Aizawa wasn't even pausing as he moved around the kitchen more, opening cabinets and washing out a dish quickly.

"We have talked about this. Extensively."

"But today—"

"Today is far from the first time we've talked about taking you in," Aizawa was still busy with what he was doing, talking to Hitoshi as he poured the water from the kettle. Coming from one of the other rooms next to the kitchen, a room Hitoshi couldn't see into, was a persistent jingling, growing louder and louder until Hitoshi saw a flash of grey and then watched Aizawa bend down, Hitoshi looking away to avoid his eyes as he stood back up.

There were footsteps approaching him and Hitoshi did his best to look buried in his phone, frozen and stiff again, not daring to look up until Aizawa came to a stop in front of him, at which point Hitoshi breathed in slowly and looked up, finding his teacher and childhood hero staring down at him with dark eyes, expression softening just enough for Hitoshi to notice when he hesitantly held his gaze. Tucked against Aizawa's chest, being supported by his arm wrapped around its hindquarters, was a long-haired grey cat, purring happily. Without a word, he leaned in slightly, over Hitoshi, and the cat immediate leapt from his arms and to Hitoshi's side with a flurry of jingles from its collar, brushing its head against his side.

Hitoshi exhaled hard and, though his hands were trembling, he reached out and pet the cat behind its ears, scratching it lightly. He found it in himself to relax a little, to let his guard down again, and he didn't hesitate when Aizawa held the mug of tea he had in his hand out to him.

"It has honey in it. It should help your throat," He told him, voice a bit softer than Hitoshi was used to. He took the cup offered to him, holding it in his hands, having not noticed until now how cold his fingertips were. He finally uncurled himself from the tight ball he was sitting it, sitting cross-legged on the couch, still being careful to not take up too much space. The cat took it upon itself to step onto his lap, kneading against his thigh, and he heard a snort of amusement from Aizawa, "Her name is Jelly. She's friendly."

That got Hitoshi to relax, if only for the sheer ridiculousness of hearing that name, "Jelly? Seriously?"

He raised an eyebrow at Aizawa, watching as he moved, taking a seat on the other end of the couch from Hitoshi. On the floor of that end of the couch was a stack of papers—grading, he assumed—and the bag of work Aizawa had been working on earlier today. Aizawa didn't immediately start working, though, giving Hitoshi an incredulous look, "I named her after the first thing that came to mind. Seemed logical at the time."

"Jelly…" Hitoshi thought for a moment, and when he happened upon the answer, he wanted to laugh and despite his attempts to stop it, a small smile broke past his worried front. "Right. You like those jelly packet things. It's still a weird name."

"That's probably why Hizashi didn't let me name the other one."

"There's another?" Hitoshi found himself leaning forward a little, his tone more excited than he meant it to be. He'd always liked cats—they were quiet, chose when they wanted attention and when they didn't, and he'd played with the strays around his first group home a lot when he'd first been moved into the system. None of his foster homes had ever had pets, though, and he'd always wanted at least one when he was on his own.

"Three," Aizawa answered him, and Hitoshi glanced up to see that his expression had pulled into a small smirk. "The youngest is shy. The oldest is lazy. They're somewhere in the house. This is the only social one."

Being here was getting easier, slowly, and the conversation was undoubtedly helping. Hitoshi scratched the cat behind her ears again, eyes drifting around the house. Besides the open main room, there was the door to what Hitoshi assumed was the master bedroom, now mostly shut, next to it being another shut door, and then the staircase leading up to what looked like a loft. There was more behind the staircase, next to the kitchen, but Hitoshi couldn't see that far from here.

"You're free to look around."

Aizawa's voice nearly startled him, and Hitoshi realized he was staring. He shook his head, trying to hide his frown by petting the cat and trying to distract himself from the lingering nerves surrounding being here in general. He was just starting to get comfortable here. He didn't think he could bring himself to actually explore around the house.

"I'm fine," He tried to cover his anxiety, bringing the mug of hot tea to his lips and taking a drink of it. The distant, near-constant itching in his throat was almost immediately soothed by the smooth, sweet honey mixed into the liquid.

"That's the master bedroom," Aizawa didn't comment on Hitoshi's refusal to move, Hitoshi instead following where he was pointing, turning his gaze to the room that Aizawa and Yamada had been talking in. His lips twitched into a further frown, his nerves not completely at ease, but relaxed enough that he could distract himself a little with trying to decide what kind of relationship Aizawa had with Yamada. He paid attention to Aizawa as he pointed at the room next to the master bedroom, "You can either take the bedroom next to us or the one upstairs. It's fine either way."

Hitoshi stared at the room, mind straying again. He forced himself to think about what was being asked of him, as much as he just wanted to leave the realization for later that he was allowed to stay here and that things were suddenly happening faster than he could process them. He took a breath, not letting himself ignore the unsaid question, and made himself think about it. The notion of even staying here overnight, let alone more than one night—it was a lot to handle, but Hitoshi didn't want to disappoint Aizawa and not answer him.

Being upstairs felt so… far away. The house was nice—warm, comfortable, clean—but Hitoshi didn't even want to think about being alone here. The only reason he wasn't making himself sick with anxiety and overthinking was because Aizawa was here and making conversation with him. Aizawa was the only reason he was even remotely alright, and Hitoshi hated how attached to him he'd become.

"The—uh, the room down here is fine," Hitoshi ducked his head away, taking another drink of his tea to give himself a cover for the turmoil he was feeling. It was hard to control his expressions and his voice, and Hitoshi was well aware that he'd developed a bad habit of letting his guard down around Aizawa.

"It should be ready," Aizawa made no comment on Hitoshi wanting to take the room next to his, making him breathe a sigh of relief. He wasn't sure how to explain that, anyways. Aizawa moved on, though, pointing up at the small area Hitoshi could hardly see behind the staircase, "There's another bathroom over there, next to the dining room. Upstairs is the loft, another bathroom, and a bedroom we mostly use as a study. You're free to go and do whatever you want here. Just try to clean up after yourself and follow what Hizashi and I tell you to do."

"This is really—" Hitoshi clutched his mug of tea hard, swallowing the panic that threatened to burst from his sore throat. "—Quick."

He was trying to behave the best he couldn't and was doing everything he could to not be disrespectful, trying to pick his words carefully, and he only hoped that it didn't sound like he was whining or complaining. He was grateful. He really was. This was just fast.

There was a pause, a beat of silence, filled only by the jingling of the cat's collar as she rolled against his thigh, clearly wanting more attention. Hitoshi dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, staring forward at the wall and staircase. He didn't even try to look at Aizawa, knowing for a fact that he wouldn't be able to stand seeing his expression.

Silence, and the ringing of the bell on the cat's collar didn't help. It felt like forever, forever of Hitoshi feeling the warmth from the mug beneath his fingertips, forever of listening to his heart pounding in his ears, and forever as he waited for an answer.

He heard Aizawa take a breath, and his voice was far quieter, far softer than he'd expected it to be. He'd rarely ever seen his teacher express emotion and had learned that that was just the way Aizawa was—a stoic man who thought that actions spoke louder than words and didn't waste the few words he did speak—but right now was one of those times, "It is a little unfair to spring this on you like we're doing. I'm well aware that it's a lot for you. Hizashi and I are well equipped to take care of everything. This is something we've thought and talked about for a while."

Hitoshi still couldn't look at him, words coming out as half-formed, breathless thoughts, "You—want—"

Even he didn't know what he was trying to say.

Aizawa seemed to understand, though, without Hitoshi having to finish that sentence, "We want to take you in, yes."

He looked over at Aizawa, finding that his expression had softened and Hitoshi swore he could almost see emotion in his face. He held Hitoshi's gaze, never faltering and never looking the least bit hesitant. He wasn't wearing the usual hard, stoic expression, instead looking different, concern so evident in his face that even Hitoshi couldn't convince himself that it wasn't there. Hitoshi didn't breathe for a long moment, and when he found his words again, his voice had fallen to nothing more than a whisper.

"You really mean this."

"I don't say things I don't mean."

Hitoshi glanced down at the still steaming tea in the mug he held between his hands. Beside him, the cat's paws kneaded at his thigh, her rumbling purr filling the space between them.

"You'd be my parent," He murmured, half talking to himself and mostly just wanting to fill the silence so his thoughts wouldn't. He almost wanted to take it back, hating how stupid his words sounded and how he was doing nothing more than stating the obvious. Of course he'd become his parent. Hitoshi didn't have a lot of experience with it, but he knew that that was what adoption meant. Aizawa didn't need that pointed out to him.

"I'm aware of that," Aizawa didn't chastise him for pointing out what he already knew, though. "You're just as aware as I am that that's already a role I've taken on with you."

Hitoshi could hear his heartbeat in his ears again, and he was terrified Aizawa could, too.

Part of him didn't think this was real still. The things he was hearing—they were things that Hitoshi had only ever wanted to hear and never thought Aizawa would tell him. He'd realized Aizawa had taken on a parental role with him, but he'd honestly thought that a lot of that was just Hitoshi himself hoping and interpreting his actions as that. Earlier today he'd said something similar—that Hitoshi needed more common sense if he truly thought that Aizawa was doing this because he thought he had to, and Hitoshi had wanted desperately to interpret that as an admission that he realized that Hitoshi saw him as a parent.

This, though—

When Aizawa said it bluntly, there was really no other way to take it.

When Hitoshi didn't say anything, Aizawa did in his place, "Things aren't going to change much."

They were going to change. A lot. But Hitoshi knew what Aizawa meant by that. Things were going to change a lot, but maybe not much between them. That gave him some hope. Sitting here, talking about this, with the notion that he wasn't going back to his foster home—it was terrifying because so much was going to change. He'd have to move here and get used to living here and having Aizawa as his parent, as well as Yamada, from the sounds of it. But the fact that not much would change in the relationship he had with Aizawa gave him hope, because he liked the way things were, and with everything else changing, it was comforting that at least one thing would stay the same.

Hitoshi didn't say anything still and Aizawa kept quiet, too. The silence didn't feel deafening, though. It was more natural, settling between them like a blanket and letting Hitoshi have a few moments to just think. He breathed a sigh, taking another long drink of the tea, the honey soothing over the itch that had risen in his throat. The cat had settled down on Hitoshi's lap, warm and purring happily and he reached down and brushed his fingers through the long grey fur on her side, earning him another bout of kneading on his leg.

Somewhere, he found it in himself to smile, lips twitching upwards as he stared down at the content cat in his lap, allowing himself to relax as he sat back. He glanced at his phone, watching it, and soon enough, as he watched the minutes turn into a new hour, his alarm went off. The noise was quiet at first and rose and rose, filling the room until Hitoshi reached to turn it off. It didn't surprise him, Hitoshi having watched his phone as it went off, having been expecting it since he'd initially realized earlier how close it was to curfew.

It only took a few more moments, and then his phone lit up again, displaying the name of his foster father calling him. He breathed out hard, cupping his hands around the mug tightly in order to stop himself from picking it up and answering it.

He kept his silence, and the moments felt long and horrible as he listened to his cell phone vibrating on the couch next to him. It felt like hours when it'd only been seconds.

"Let me answer it," Aizawa's voice drew him out of his dread-filled trace, and Hitoshi raised his head to him, seeing that Aizawa was completely serious. He tried not to let himself think, picking up his vibrating phone and holding it out to him.

"Okay," He breathed in agreement, and Aizawa made no hesitation in taking it from him and hitting the button to pick up the call, immediately rising from the couch as he did so, giving Hitoshi a quick, serious glance before he turned away.

What met Hitoshi's ears was the sound of his foster father's voice, loud enough that Hitoshi could hear it through the receiver. He looked down, unable to make out his words or anything other than the fact that he was mad and close to yelling, and he drew his legs a little closer to his body, petting the cat's fur again in an attempt to calm himself. He could hear Aizawa's footsteps and the noise of his foster father's scolding getting quieter, and he was more than grateful that there hadn't even been a question about Aizawa taking the phone call to a different room.

"Hitoshi is staying with me—" It was the last thing he heard before the closing of a door, cutting Aizawa off in the middle of his sentence. Hitoshi made no move to follow, having no desire to eavesdrop into that conversation like he had before. He leaned back on the couch, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, brushing his hands through the cat's fur.

She was soft and that, along with her purring, her entire body rumbling with warm happiness, forced him to stay here, on the ground, instead of disappearing into the thoughts in his head. They threatened to burst from him, but he instead focused on the feeling of the soft fur under his fingertips and the feeling of the friendly cat kneading his thigh and occasionally rubbing her head against his arm.

Vaguely, he could hear noise from the other room. He couldn't make out any words and thankfully, it was just Aizawa's voice he could hear. He sounded a bit louder than usual, just enough for Hitoshi to actually notice, and he could tell that his tone was firm and scolding, one that he rarely used with Hitoshi and a harsh one that Hitoshi had really only heard him use with misbehaving students. In any other situation, Hitoshi might've found it amusing that Aizawa was talking this way to someone who was probably older than him, but now, he was just worried.

He knew that Aizawa was an adult and he knew that Aizawa had decided to do this and was well aware of what it entailed, but that didn't mean that Hitoshi was alright with him getting yelled at and having to face the brunt of his foster father's anger on his behalf. It wasn't like he was going to tell Aizawa anything he didn't already know, given that Aizawa had read Hitoshi's thick file and had access to his record, but Hitoshi knew how loud, insulting, and all around shitty his foster father could be, and he didn't want anyone else to have to experience that.

It wasn't like this was the first time Aizawa had talked to him, though. Aizawa didn't talk much about his interactions with Hitoshi's foster father, but he knew that he'd talked to him multiple times about Hitoshi moving into the dorms and from what Hitoshi could gather, they didn't like each other. Aizawa seemed to try to keep Hitoshi out of it by not telling him much about his conversations, but his foster father didn't give him the same courtesy and had pretty explicitly told him that he hated his teacher's guts.

He knew that his foster father only saw him as a paycheck, and he'd known that for the entire two years he'd lived in that household. It didn't matter anymore—when Hitoshi had been labelled as a problem due to his quirk early on, that was what most adults saw him as. He'd just gotten used to it. Besides that, the guy didn't care about him. Hitoshi was, for the most part, entirely ignored at home, unless someone wanted to get him in trouble for something. He was secluded, supposed because that kept him out of trouble, and on a normal day where none of his siblings or parents had a reason to be angry at him, they acted like he didn't exist. He did everything alone—having to eat, go to bed, and wake up separately from everyone because he'd been labelled as such a problem. Even his curfew was different. He knew better than anything that that man didn't care about him unless he wanted something to take his frustrations out on, and that was fine. He'd gotten used to it.

He was a problem, and that was fine. He'd learned that no matter how much he tried to keep to himself and stay out of things, he always wound up being the scapegoat, anyways. It was easy, with the way his quirk had already put him on a lower level than everyone else. He still did his best to be quiet and follow the rules, but even he couldn't deny that it got lonely in that house, being ignored unless someone was angry.

And now—the only reason that his foster father was even fighting about the dorm situation or this, as he assumed he was probably arguing with Aizawa, was just because he didn't want to lose that paycheck. No one else had wanted Hitoshi, so the system had given this foster home a bit more incentive to keep him, resulting in Hitoshi having stayed there for two years. He supposed the stability had been nice and he'd always been afraid that if he moved any further away, that he wouldn't be able to go to UA. Right now, he was being offered something so much better, and his foster father was only fighting about it because Hitoshi was just a paycheck in that house.

It didn't hurt anymore. It might've when he'd been younger, but it didn't now. It was just the way things were, and the only thing that hurt about the conversation going on behind that closed door was that Aizawa had to experience his foster father's anger on his behalf.

The cat purred loudly on his lap, rolling over and nearly knocking the mug from his hands as she stretched out her front paws, laying across him and staring up at him with happy green eyes.

"Hey, be careful," Hitoshi told her quietly, giving her a scratch behind her ears. It put him a little more at ease to be talking, even if it was mostly to himself. It drown out the sound of Aizawa talking in the other room, letting Hitoshi stop worrying about the argument he assumed was happening in there. "I guess it's good you like me, since I'm going to be living here. Or something. I've always kinda wanted a cat."

She continued to purr on his lap, closing her eyes as he moved to scratch her chin.

"You seem pretty nice. I bet you like it here," He kept talking, finding that having a distraction was helping more than he thought it would. Usually, he'd distract himself with his phone and read something or look at his homework, but Aizawa had taken his phone into the other room with him, leaving Hitoshi with the cat. He supposed he could get up and explore the house, but he was finally able to relax on the couch and he didn't want to make himself even more nervous by looking around. So he just kept talking to the purring cat, trying to drown out the little that he could hear from the other room.

"You know, when I was younger I used to play with the cats outside the home I lived in," He told her, not letting himself stop and think how odd talking to a cat was. If it helped, it helped, and that was all that mattered. "They were a bunch of strays, so they didn't belong to me or anything, but they were fun to play with. When I moved away, sometimes I'd go back there and play with them, though I got in a lot of trouble for that a few times. I guess I wasn't very good at following the rules back then. I just sort of did what I wanted."

He smiled at the memory of it, feeling more nostalgic than upset at it. After the years of being in foster care, Hitoshi had learned to set aside most feelings of hurt associated with his history. He wondered if he'd someday be able to look back on his time in the most recent foster home like this, if he'd ever be able to laugh about it now that his time there had come to an extremely abrupt end.

"I hope I can stay here," It was far easier to admit this to a cat than it was to his teacher or even to himself. The cat stared up at him with huge eyes, and then blinked slowly at him. "It seems pretty nice, you know? I can probably get used to Yamada and Sensei… well, he said he wants me here, right? If he wants me here and Yamada does, too, then it's alright, isn't it?"

He fell silent, realizing that he was mostly trying to convince himself that this was all alright, that he wasn't imposing on his teacher and his… whatever Yamada was to him.

From the other room, he couldn't hear anything, but that only lasted a few moments, before he heard Aizawa's voice pick up again. He was ready to start talking to himself again, to fill the silence and distract himself, when the noise stopped suddenly and a moment later, Hitoshi heard the door open and then shut, not quite slamming shut, but the sound did echo through the house, startling the cat and making Hitoshi sit up straight. He didn't say anything at first and neither did Aizawa, Hitoshi looking at him as he stood in the dining area, running a hand through his long hair before he glanced at Hitoshi, not saying a word.

"I'm sorry—" Hitoshi managed to say, voice coming out a little choked.

"Why?"

He couldn't look away as Aizawa approached him, holding his phone out to him, Hitoshi taking it with shaking hands and watching as Aizawa sat on the other end of the couch, just as he had before, like nothing had happened. Hitoshi bit his lip again, working out his words, "I'm sorry you had to deal with him. I heard him yelling at you."

"I'm more than capable of handling irate people like him," Aizawa brushed his hair back from his face once more before leaning down, Hitoshi looking to see him feeling for the stack of papers he had next to the couch, picking up about half of the stack and leaning back, looking at Hitoshi one more time. "Try to relax and rest. I'm going to do some work. Hizashi will be back soon and make dinner. If your foster parents call or contact you, don't respond. Unless I tell you to, I don't want you to say a word to them. Understand?"

"Yes," Hitoshi nodded, voice falling flat. That was easier to understand. He knew how to deal with orders and he was more than happy to follow what Aizawa told him. If he told him to not talk to them and specifically instructed him not to, then Hitoshi wouldn't. He did everything he could to follow Aizawa's orders and even though this was far more personal, this was no exception. He forced himself to relax again, to do what he'd been told.

Aizawa didn't say anything more, and Hitoshi didn't expect him to. He'd said what was necessary. For once, though, Hitoshi didn't try to fill the quiet with words. As the silence settled, he was, for the first time that night, fine with it. There was the happy purring from the cat and the noise of Aizawa occasionally flipping pages or writing things down, and Hitoshi was fine with that.

Usually, back at home, the silence was crushing. Back in his foster home, it was never really silent with so many people living there, but it might as well have been, given that Hitoshi was treated like he didn't exist. Here, though, even though he wasn't being actively talked to, he knew he wasn't being ignored. Aizawa being here was enough and having someone sit with him, even when they were both involved in their own things, was more than he usually got back at home.

It was odd to not be ignored, but Hitoshi felt warm as he sat there. Warm enough that the guilt of Aizawa having to deal with the anger of his foster father eventually passed and Hitoshi started feeling comfortable.

Comfortable enough that he reached into his bag and pulled out his beat up handheld game, choosing to play that instead of looking at his phone, not wanting to see if his foster parents were trying to contact him or not. He quickly buried himself into it, not even realizing that he'd been playing it for a while until Aizawa got up and turned on low music, the radio on a station Hitoshi quickly recognized as the one Yamada worked at. Quiet, low music filled the air, and Hitoshi's mind started slowing even more, until all he could feel was the exhaustion that sat heavy in all his limbs.

He was tired of thinking. He could stop here, for the first time in what felt like years. He could stop and just—not think about anything. He let himself, struggling to keep his eyes open until he finally just gave in and closed his game, checking to make sure Aizawa wasn't watching him before he leaned against the pillow on the end of the couch and let his eyes fall shut.

He honestly didn't mean to fall asleep, meaning to just let his mind rest and listen to the low noise around him, but he slipped into sleep quickly, the nerves in his body relaxing enough that the feeling of security crept up on him, reminding him that he was safe here.

---------

The thing that woke him up was the sound of a door opening and a gust of cold air, and the panic hit Hitoshi almost immediately.

He stiffened, his entire body going rigid in response. He didn't move, didn't even let himself breathe, heart feeling like it was about to stop beating entirely—

"I'm home!"

The joyous near-shout was met with a harsh shushing, and Hitoshi let out the breath he'd been holding slowly, still not daring to open his eyes or move.

He wasn't at home. That voice belonged to Yamada Hizashi and the shushing belonged to Aizawa Shouta, and Hitoshi wasn't even anywhere near his foster home. He was in Aizawa's house, having dozed off on his couch, and he wasn't about to be scolded or yelled at for falling asleep out here and not doing the chores assigned to him or slacking off. Aizawa had told him to rest earlier, when Hitoshi had said he was tired and then after he'd come back from talking on the phone to Hitoshi's foster father.

The last thing he remembered was letting himself lay down against the end of the couch, still with the cat in his lap. Aizawa had been working not far from him. The cat was gone now and he felt oddly warm, but sure enough, Hitoshi felt someone getting up from the other end of the couch, and then footsteps he quickly identified as Aizawa's.

"Oh—" That was Yamada again, his voice much lower now and barely above a whisper. "He's sleeping."

"Yes," Aizawa's voice was similarly low, and Hitoshi heard him come to a stop where he assumed Yamada was. "Don't wake him up. As far as I can tell, he didn't sleep much at his foster home. He needs all the rest he can get."

"Right—you said he slept in a room with six other kids, right?" Yamada whistled quietly. "Damn, that's a lot of kids. No wonder he didn't get a lot of sleep. We can let him sleep until dinner's done and then wake him up. He's pretty scrawny, Shouta. Kinda like you in high school."

Hitoshi was careful to keep his breathing even and not move much, not wanting them to know that he was actually awake. It wasn't that he thought he'd get in trouble, but more that he wanted to listen to them talk without having them talking directly to him. It wasn't stressful to listen in like this and part of him kind of liked the way they talked to each other. It was so calm and even affectionate, like they'd be around each other for so long that they were just used to each other by now. Hitoshi wasn't used to that. His foster parents seemed to hate each other. Or, at least, they hardly spoke together unless it was yelling. It was similar in other households—if there were two adults in the house who were supposed to be parents, the relationship between them always felt and sounded strained.

"He's a lot taller than I was in high school," He heard Aizawa point out dryly.

"Yeah, well, you were tiny back then," A soft laugh, and then Yamada's voice dropped back to the quiet tone he'd had before. "Anyways, I didn't know what the kid liked—is he picky like you? He looks and acts a lot like you, so I thought maybe he was.—so I just picked up a whole bunch of stuff I thought he might like. Oh, there's jelly packets, too! You were running out of them, so I got you a few more boxes."

He heard Aizawa hum and following the sound was the noise of someone looking through what Hitoshi assumed was plastic grocery bags. He'd been too initially panicked to even hear Yamada put them down in the first place.

Knowing that Aizawa and Yamada were both at least momentarily distracted, Hitoshi dared to half-open his eyes and shift around a little, finding out quickly that there was a blanket over him, which explained the odd warmth. He tilted his head up a little, and found that the small decorative pillow he'd been lying on had been replaced by a real pillow from a bed, and Hitoshi was stuck wondering how he hadn't woken up. Following that was the realization that Aizawa had done this, had draped the blanket over him and given him a real pillow to lay on. His phone and tea mug were on the kotatsu in front of the couch, and Hitoshi noticed that his schoolbag had been tucked in the corner with Aizawa's stack of papers.

He frowned; he must've been pretty deeply asleep to have not woken up during all that. It was unsettling, initially, to think that he'd just stayed asleep through all that, but moments later, the same feeling of safety from before set in, reminding him that that was fine here, that for once, he wasn't in any danger of getting into trouble and Aizawa had been right—he didn't sleep well at his foster home, partially because he knew he was never really safe and partially because it was always so crowded and noisy.

"As far as I know, he's not picky," Aizawa was saying, Hitoshi still hearing the sound of bags rustling. He shut his eyes again, pulling the blanket tighter around him so that he could bury his nose in it. "I haven't asked him about it, but he seems to like anything at the cafe I take him to. Let's see—ah, good, more honey. He's got a bad cough, so that's helpful."

"I picked up cough medicine, too!"

"Keep your voice down," Aizawa wasn't scolding him and it instead sounded like a soft reminder. "We don't want to wake him up, remember? Wait—Hizashi, what's this? This isn't food."

There was a pause, and then a laugh, though it was clear that Yamada was trying to stay quiet, "I, uh—thought he might like it! You know, kids like to have a comfort object. Or, you probably don't know that, actually. But it's true, I promise!"

It was almost enough to make Hitoshi look up and reveal himself, but he stayed where he was, face half-hidden under the blanket, face burning as he wondered what they were talking about.

Though he was warm and comfortable, he honestly was starting to not feel well. It was no surprise—his infection seemed to feel worse at night than it did in the daytime. Back at his foster home, he'd been thrown out of the room a couple times for coughing too much and he'd been pretty sure he was running a fever a couple of those nights, not that he could do anything about it but try to rest and just wait it out. The itch in the back of his throat was back, and his body was starting to heat up a little, and not just out of the embarrassment he felt at being talked about. He was getting better, the medication helping with that, but it still got bad at night and right now, Hitoshi wanted to hide himself away and deal with it alone so no one else would have to know.

But he stayed where he was, continuing to listen in to the conversation.

He heard what he thought was a laugh from Aizawa, but he couldn't be sure, having not heard it often and not being able to look at his face, "I'm sure he'll like it."

Another pause, and then Hitoshi heard Aizawa stand back up, Yamada's voice falling even softer in response, "I'll start dinner. You're both probably hungry, right? Soup would probably be good for him…"

"Fine by me," Their voices were growing more distant and he could hear footsteps accompanying them. Hitoshi opened his eyes again, tilting his head further up, hoping they weren't paying attention to him anymore. Luckily, they weren't, the room open so that Hitoshi could see the two of them in the kitchen together, standing close together. Aizawa was the first to speak again, voice carrying through the openness of their house, "The pastries on the counter are for you."

Oh, right. He'd almost forgotten about going to the bakery with Aizawa. That felt so far away now and so long ago.

"Aw, Shouta, that's so nice of you!"

And then, Hitoshi watched as Yamada leaned in, wrapped an arm around Aizawa's waist, and pulled him in, pressing what was undeniably a kiss against him. That very quickly solved the mystery of whether the two of them just lived together or were actually dating. It made sense—they lived together, were on first name bases with each other, and Aizawa had referred to the master bedroom as 'theirs' a few times. Hitoshi just hadn't really wanted to make assumptions and had been to nervous to even begin to work out how to ask.

"Shouta, are you gonna help me cook?"

"I'm going to try to."

Hitoshi sunk back down, breathing out and lying his head back on the pillow. He shut his eyes again, listening to the noises that surrounded him. From the kitchen came the noise of pots banging and then another sharp hushing from Aizawa, followed by a whispered apology. There was the noise of things being brought out and set on the counter and Hitoshi almost felt like he was ready to drift back off to sleep when the conversation resumed.

"Here, Shouta, peel these," That was Yamada, and he set something down on the counter presumably in front of Aizawa following his words. He heard a whistle from Yamada, a pause, and then the man's voice dropped to a more serious tone, "Did you talk to his foster parents?"

"'Talk' is a strong word," Close to Yamada, Aizawa sounded annoyed, and Hitoshi felt his heart drop with the same guilt from earlier. There was a hum from Aizawa and he continued on, still sounding irritated, "Hitoshi's foster father is a little… insufferable. And selfish. The police might be coming by later."

"Ah," Yamada didn't seem surprised at that. "Did he threaten to file a missing person's report? Or report him as a runaway?"

"Both, actually. He couldn't seem to decide which one would cause more damage. If the police come, it should be easy to explain, especially since you filed the report."

A beat of silence, and Hitoshi nearly jumped when he heard the noise of a knife on a cutting board coming down particularly hard, the sound bouncing off the walls and filling the room. He heard a hiss from Aizawa that he assumed was probably a curse of frustration.

"Woah, Shouta, be careful. Please don't cut off your finger or something. You need those. Come here," Footsteps, another hiss from Aizawa, and then water running. Hitoshi had gripped the blanket at the loud noise, and he just clenched it harder as he heard a wordless yell from Aizawa, quickly cut off.

"Hizashi, that water's boiling," His voice fell to a mumble, though it was really more of a growl. The running water nearly drown it out. "Stop that, I can wash the cut off myself!"

"Hey, hey, quiet. Kid's trying to sleep," Yamada chided at him, tone gentle enough that Hitoshi could almost imagine the smile on his face, despite hardly having met Yamada. His personality shone through in his words and voice, and Hitoshi supposed that there was a reason he was called the Voice Hero and had the most popular radio show on air. There were another few moments of the water running, a few more grumbled words from Aizawa that he couldn't quite catch, and then Yamada spoke again, "Alright, go put a bandage on it. Can't have you bleeding into my soup. Also, no more knife for you."

"I can handle it."

"Sorry, but your bleeding hand speaks louder than you do."

More footsteps, heading into the room that Aizawa had taken the phone call from—a bathroom, Hitoshi recalled. The door opened and Hitoshi could hear the quiet, muffled creaking of a cabinet opening and then someone going through things in it. The noise died out quickly, leaving Hitoshi alone with the sounds of Yamada in the kitchen. The other man was quiet, not making much noise other than resuming the chopping that Hitoshi assumed Aizawa had been doing earlier. It stayed like that for a few long moments, before Hitoshi heard the bathroom door quietly shut.

"All better?" Yamada was still being quiet, though he called out to Aizawa. He heard a huff from the other side of the room, which he quickly decided was Aizawa. "Good. Now come here and measure things for me."

Hitoshi wondered distantly if the conversation was going to drop off again. For a bit, it seemed like it, and Hitoshi was drifting too close to dozing off to really think about what either of them were saying. There were footsteps and moving around, instructions from Yamada and cooking questions from Aizawa, and Hitoshi truly thought that they were done talking about important things until Yamada finished cutting things and there was another long moment of silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft and almost—shaky as he talked.

"Shouta, I don't want him to have to talk to the police."

The room was mute except for the two of them and the low bubbling from the stove. He didn't quite know what was going on and if they'd finished cooking for now or were just taking a break, but Aizawa's tone matched his—quiet and full of emotion that Hitoshi wasn't used to hearing from him, "Neither do I. It'd be best to avoid it, but having the police think we kidnapped him wouldn't be very good. If they do come… I'll try to make it so their conversation with him is short. If they could deal with us more, that'd be ideal. Besides… it shouldn't be hard to clear things up…"

"You're right," There was a small sigh from Yamada. "I just—he seems like he's gone through a lot. I don't really want him to hurt more, you know?"

"He has been through a lot, and this is happening fast for him. Let's deal with that if and when it happens. For now, we should just focus on making him feel welcomed."

With that, the conversation did die off. There were a few more words, exchanged quips about mundane things that didn't have to do with Hitoshi. Hitoshi let out a breath, releasing his tight grip on the blanket, shifting so that he was a little more comfortable, and let himself drift off once more.

------

He didn't know how long he slept for this time. It couldn't have been long, but he drifted off again, body feeling hot and heavy and his throat itching with the cough that threatened to erupt from him, and the next thing he knew, his name was being called and someone was shaking his shoulder. Luckily, there was no moment of confusion this time and Hitoshi knew exactly where he was the moment he came to, opening his eyes to find Aizawa crouched in front of him, at his level, staring at his with his dark, tired gaze.

Hitoshi rubbed at his eyes, not quite sitting up yet, words a little mumbled as he spoke, "...How long have I been asleep?"

"Two hours at the most," Aizawa answered him, though he made no move to get up. He continued to stare at Hitoshi, and Hitoshi just rubbed at his eyes, waiting, waiting, waiting, until Aizawa finally said something, "I know you're tired, but are you feeling up to talking to someone for a few minutes?"

Hitoshi knew immediately who it was. He remembered the conversation from before, how Aizawa had told Yamada about his conversation with Hitoshi's foster father. Hitoshi hadn't wanted to ask about it, since Aizawa seemed to want Hitoshi to stay out of it, but hearing that his foster father was threatening to either report them for kidnapping or report Hitoshi as missing was… concerning. He hated the thought of it, the thought of Aizawa and Yamada potentially getting in trouble for this.

There was an eerie silence in the room and as Aizawa continued to stare at him, Hitoshi stopped rubbing his eyes and hauled his aching body up, clenching his teeth at the uncomfortable, burning heat that coursed through him at the action. Sitting up wasn't much better, because the moment he pushed himself up, he was met with a sight he'd never wanted to see.

He was still in Aizawa's living room. The lights were still bright and the new scent of hot food filled the room, enough to make Hitoshi's mouth water and his stomach growl. Aizawa was crouched down in front of the couch and standing in the entryway, looking as though they'd just come into the house, were two uniformed police officers. Yamada was near the kitchen, hair tied up and an apron over his clothes, his expression full of what Hitoshi could only interpret as worry.

Hitoshi tried to speak, but the second he opened his mouth, the itch in the back of his throat erupted and Hitoshi was forced to cup his hands over his mouth, coughing into them. His face burned both with the heat from the rest of his body and embarrassment, and no one said anything as he coughed, struggling to choke each movement back, breathing hard when he finally managed to stop, eyes watering a bit as he forced himself to look back at Aizawa.

"S—Sure," He didn't mean to sound unsure, but the coughing fit had left his voice hoarse. He'd be fine talking to them. If he could convince the police that everything was fine, then they'd leave Aizawa and Yamada alone. If anyone was going to get in trouble for this, Hitoshi wanted it to be him.

But Aizawa still didn't get up. Instead, he narrowed his eyes at Hitoshi, studying him, Hitoshi holding his breath as Aizawa just looked at him, wondering if Aizawa had any idea how intimidating he looked right now, especially when he was asking Hitoshi to talk to two police officers. But Aizawa didn't scold him or say anything, and instead, before Hitoshi could stop it, Aizawa had the back of his hand against Hitoshi's forehead.

Hitoshi let out the breath he'd been holding, letting his eyes shut. Aizawa's hand was cool against his head, a needed respite from the heat that coursed through his entire body, and he found himself even leaning into his touch.

"You have a fever," Aizawa told him quietly, voice soft enough that Hitoshi could almost forget about the others in the room. "Are you sure you feel up to talking?"

"You said it's just for a few minutes, right?" Hitoshi asked, half opening his eyes. Aizawa drew away from him slowly and Hitoshi leaned back on the couch. "I'll be alright."

"Yes. Afterwards, I'll give you something for your fever. You probably don't have much of an appetite, but Hizashi made dinner and eating would probably help," Aizawa finally stood back up, glancing at the two police officers and speaking to them instead. "Please keep it short. Hitoshi isn't feeling well."

Hitoshi followed his gaze and to his surprise, neither of the officers looked particularly—upset. The first was a woman, the other a man, and the woman gave a smile to Aizawa, one that didn't look like it held any malice at all, and the chipper, calm tone of her voice only served to further confuse Hitoshi, "Thank you, Eraser. We'll try to be quick. If the two of you could leave for a few minutes, we'd appreciate it."

Hitoshi said nothing and neither Aizawa nor Yamada argued, Yamada being as positive as ever as he encouraged Aizawa out the door, Hitoshi not missing the way Yamada cast a worried glance back at him. The front door shut again and Hitoshi was left with the two police officers, wondering when they'd gotten here and how he hadn't woken up when they had. It was just like before, Aizawa having draped a blanket over him and pushed a pillow under his head, all without Hitoshi noticing. To make matters worse, he was still tired.

It was probably the infection, he decided. That, and he'd never really realized how utterly exhausted he was, mostly because he'd never been able to just stop and feel everything.

He turned his tired eyes to the two police officers, watching with a hard stare as the woman approached him, though she was smart enough to keep her distance from him. She was giving him the same smile that she'd given Aizawa, and Hitoshi couldn't help but to ask himself if she was patronizing him. He decided to be the one to break the silence first, and asked her a blunt, straightforward question, "You think Aizawa-sensei kidnapped me, don't you?"

She didn't seem very surprised by it. Neither did her partner.

"We're here to investigate a claim of that, yes," She told him, still with that smile. Hitoshi breathed out, forcing himself to see her as friendly rather than threatening. He had to try to stay hopeful, even if his approach to everything his entire life had been to view everything negatively so that he wouldn't be disappointed. "Why don't you go ahead and tell us about what happened today? We can take action from there and help you."

"Taking me away from Aizawa-sensei wouldn't be helping me," He said dryly, expression not changing. His throat was burning again, and he had to push the blanket off of him to help ward off some of the heat from his body. He immediately shivered, somehow cold without it on, despite the way his entire body was in flames. "Neither would arresting him and Yamada."

"Currently there's no plans to do either of those things," The lead officer told him, smiling still. "You can call me Officer Katsuko, by the way. If you tell us what happened today, we'll do everything we can to help you."

"Fine," Hitoshi honestly didn't mean to be rude or anything, but his first instinct was to distrust anyone and everyone, especially people claiming to be able to help him. He only trusted Aizawa because he'd spent years idolizing him and Aizawa had built up even more trust with him after months of actually helping him and not letting him down. He was the outlier. With these two, though, his first reaction was to distrust them.

But—maybe she was telling the truth. Aizawa hadn't kidnapped him or coerced him into coming here. It'd all been Hitoshi's choice. At worst, Hitoshi would be told he was a runaway and he'd already decided that he was fine getting in trouble as long as Aizawa and Yamada didn't.

"Aizawa-sensei trains me," He told the two of them, looking the lead officer in the eyes. "It's usually a few times a week. I live in a foster home that's not the greatest, and Aizawa's been helping me for the last few months. We were training today and then he took me to run errands with him. He always spends time with me after training—usually a few hours. He said he wanted to do a home visit or something. When he took me to the train station, I told him that I didn't want to go back home and he offered to let me stay here. I came back here with him, met Yamada, and then I guess I fell asleep for a few hours. Now I'm talking to you."

He said it all simply, not allowing any emotion into his voice. He dumbed down the events of the day, since he didn't want to get into a lot of detail, and passed it off like it was all commonplace—because most of it was. Today had mostly been an average day that had only started deviating the second Aizawa had told him about doing a home visit to his foster family. And even after that, after being taken back here, it'd been calm, aside from Hitoshi's own lingering anxiety. Aizawa hadn't made a big deal out of anything and that had definitely made Hitoshi feel more comfortable here.

"Sensei didn't push or anything," He continued on, leaning his head back in an attempt to calm the burning in his face. "He told me it wouldn't be a bother or anything and then once we got back here, he said that he didn't want me to go back to my foster family, but he also said I didn't have to stay here if I didn't want to. So he's not forcing me to stay here. He didn't kidnap me or anything. I came here because I wanted to."

Without even a pause, the male officer looked at his partner, "His story matches with both of theirs."

Hitoshi let out a breath of relief.

"Yes, and Mic-san's report seems to match, as well," She commented to him before she turned back to Hitoshi. "How do you like it here?"

Hitoshi didn't say anything for a moment, thinking over his response. He considered himself to be good with words, having worked on his language skills his entire life, but right now, he didn't want to draw out his responses or even think too hard about them. He was tired and, like Aizawa had said, not feeling well. He just wanted this over with. So he didn't let himself tell her in detail, instead simplifying the truth down to its barest bones.

"I like it," He said, rubbing at his eyes again. "Yamada and Aizawa are nice. I'm glad I came here."

Part of him wanted to beg and plead with her to not make him go back to his foster home and let him stay here, but he was trying to come off as mature and put together, and the last thing he wanted was these two thinking he was some child who could barely put his thoughts in order. So he shoved that part of himself down, forcing a mature, stoic front, only hoping that he got his point across.

"Good," She still sounded chipper, even more so now than before. "Honestly, Shinsou-san, between the two of us, the report that Eraser and Mic-san kidnapped a child was very hard to believe and we suspected something else was going on. Can you tell us about your foster home? Eraser mentioned some bruising…"

Hitoshi didn't respond again, glancing away from her. Again, the scent of homemade food met his nose and his fever burned at him, reminding him that Aizawa had told him that he'd give him something—medication, Hitoshi assumed—for his fever.

"With all due respect, I'm really not feeling well right now. I can tell you more about it on a different day, but to be completely honest with you, I'm tired and would really just like to go back to sleep," He kept his tone solid, looking the woman in the eyes again. "I'd be happy to talk to you on a different day, but if that's all you needed today, I'd like to go back to sleeping."

The woman didn't seem upset or shocked by his words, "Yes, of course. We'll leave you to rest. Please feel better. Our department will contact Eraser to schedule a more formal interview with you about your foster home."

He raised an eyebrow, "You're letting me stay here?"

"Our job is to make sure that you're not in danger," The man offered, voice serious. "To us, it sounds like you're out of danger here. There's no reason to return you to a place that may not have been as safe when you're here of your own volition and are being adequately cared for."

The female officer nodded, agreeing with her partner's words, "As I understand it, Eraser and Mic-san would like it if you stayed here and from what we can tell, they're prepared to take you into their home. We're going to investigate your foster home a little and there will be a more formal interview process, but for now, it seems like this is the best place for you. Do you want to stay here?"

There was no hesitation.

"Yes," Hitoshi answered, breathing out the word and dropping his gaze to his lap. He didn't say anything more, hoping that his admission would be enough, and the officers didn't prompt for anything more.

"That's all we needed then," The woman's voice picked up again, cheery and happy. "Please feel better, Shinsou-san. We'll be in touch."

"Sure," He raised his head again, watching as she motioned to her partner. The two of them went to the front door, saying another goodbye to him, before they opened the front door, a cold gust hitting Hitoshi, both of them disappearing outside and leaving Hitoshi alone in the house.

Outside, he could hear a quiet murmuring that he assumed was the officers and Aizawa and Yamada talking, but he couldn't make out the words. He considered, briefly, going to eavesdrop, but he didn't move, tired both physically and emotionally from that conversation. He considered lying back down again, the only thing stopping him being Aizawa's previous promise of food and a potential relief from his fever. Whatever Yamada had made smelled good and he did have an appetite, Hitoshi's stomach growling as he waited.

He didn't have to wait long, either. Soon enough, the front door opened again, Hitoshi basking in the cold air that hit him momentarily, and Yamada's loud voice met his ears, not missing a single beat.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He sounded genuinely happy, the grin on his face looking real even as the man shivered, and despite himself, Hitoshi found it a little amusing that Yamada hadn't thought to put on a coat. He shook his head, not saying anything, glancing from Yamada to Aizawa, who had thought to put on a coat and was currently shrugging it off and hanging it up.

"I guess not," Hitoshi murmured, watching the two of them, Yamada crossing his arms over his body in what was probably an attempt to warm himself up. Hitoshi raised his head a little, focusing on Aizawa. Yamada was a nice guy, but Hitoshi felt more comfortable talking to Aizawa, having known him longer, long enough that Hitoshi had unwittingly put a lot of trust into him. "They're letting me stay here."

"I didn't doubt they would," Aizawa shut the door to the closet, giving him a glance. "There's no reason for them not to let you stay. You didn't do anything wrong and you're safe here. It was a misunderstanding that was easy to clear up. You did well."

Hitoshi kept his mouth shut, the praise unexpected. He watched as Aizawa made his way to the kitchen, sitting still and refusing to let himself look away. Aizawa didn't glance at him and Hitoshi watched him move around, reaching into a cabinet and getting down what looked like a bottle of medication. Only then did Aizawa look at him again, beckoning him over, "Come here and bring me the antibiotic you were given. You have it with you, right?"

Hitoshi scrambled to do as he was told, ignoring the burning and aching of his body. It was his first time getting up and walking around since he'd eavesdropped on Aizawa, and he pushed down the nerves again, instead focusing on doing as he was told. He quickly went to his bag, where Aizawa had put it next to his work, and dug out the bottle of medication the doctors had given him at the clinic Aizawa had sent him to. He heard a laugh from Yamada and his face went even hotter, but he managed to force himself towards the kitchen, stepping into unfamiliar territory as soon as he passed Yamada in the entryway.

Being on this side of the room was a little different. He could see the kitchen clearly, noticing how oddly clean it was. It was still clearly used, with a sink full of dishes and a few things left out on the counter, but the counters and appliances were clean, free of dirt and grime. On the stove was a large pot, and Hitoshi assumed that that was whatever food Yamada and Aizawa had made. He stopped at the edge of the kitchen, toes just barely brushing against the place where the tile met the carpet, and took a deep breath.

With that, Hitoshi crossed into the kitchen, Aizawa watching him with dark eyes as he did. Hitoshi felt warmer than ever now, wobbling on his feet a little as he stopped in front of where Aizawa was, having to lean on the counter heavily to stand up properly. He glanced at what Aizawa had, looking at the bottle of pills he hand, reading the label as some fever reducer. Somewhere out in the rest of the room, he heard Yamada moving around, but he didn't care to glance and see what he was doing. He was too focused on Aizawa and what was happening with him.

"This should help your fever," Aizawa was holding out pills to him and Hitoshi stared at what he was being offered, gaze drifting to the counter where there was a full-looking cup waiting. His grip tightened on the bottle in his hands and instinctively, he shut his mouth. He wasn't going to say no, though, he'd just had—bad experiences with being given medication in the past. Logically, he knew Aizawa wasn't going to force it down his throat, but the memories were still there. If Aizawa noticed, though, he didn't say anything about it, going on in that unaffected, suddenly calming tone of his, "You can take it with your antibiotic and then eat. You should get more rest, since tomorrow I'm going to do that home visit and—"

"Okay—" Hitoshi breathed, unintentionally cutting him off. As soon as he realized what he'd done, he looked away, choosing to stare at the counter, feeling slightly ashamed for interrupting. The idea of the home visit still sat heavy with him, and while he remembered that Aizawa had earlier said that no matter what, he'd come back with him, Hitoshi still felt a lingering anxiety that if he saw nothing bad, he'd be alright with leaving Hitoshi there. His foster parents had a good way of acting better when there were people around.

He shook the thought from his head, instead taking what Aizawa was offering him, pausing to measure out the medication he'd been prescribed, as well. Aizawa stayed silent, only pushing the glass at him when Hitoshi was done, Hitoshi looking and seeing what he thought was juice inside. Not questioning it, he dropped the pills into his mouth, preparing to swallow them—only to gag and nearly spit them out the second the liquid touched his mouth.

He forced himself to swallow the medication, though he came up wide eyed and staring at the liquid in the cup, before raising his eyes to Aizawa, coughing from the disgusting taste of whatever the hell he'd given him to drink.

"—What is this?!" He managed to sputter out, pointing at the remaining liquid in the cup. It'd been bitter and pretty revolting, distantly tasting like juice. It was enough to get him to break through the nervousness and worry that'd returned, and he gave Aizawa an incrediculous expression.

"There's cough syrup mixed in," He said simply, leaning over and looking at the liquid with slightly narrowed eyes. "I assumed you'd notice, but I didn't think it'd be that bad."

"It's gross!" His voice was louder than he'd meant it to be, but instead of getting scolded, he heard another laugh from the living room. He managed a pout, puffing out his cheeks and sticking his bottom lip out.

"You don't have to take it."

"I'm not a kid; I can drink cough syrup by itself," Hitoshi insisted, and only deepened his pout when he watched Aizawa lean back, the corners of his lips twitching up into a rare smile. Despite the fact that he'd just unknowingly drank disgusting cough syrup, this felt scarily normal, and somewhere, spurred on by Aizawa's expression and the laugh Yamada had given him, Hitoshi was fine with continuing to act completely offended by this.

"It would taste even worse by itself. Why do that when you can mix it with something?" Aizawa countered, looking oddly amused. "That sounds pretty irrational to me."

Another laugh from the living room, Hitoshi angling his head to see Yamada sitting on the floor, the same grey cat from before sprawled across his lap. He shot Hitoshi a wink, "Shouta even mixes stuff into his alcohol. This is his philosophy on everything."

And then, Hitoshi found it in himself to smile, too, pushing the fact that he'd just had to talk to the police to the back of his mind. Even through the idea of a home visit, the feeling of being safe here settled over him heavily, and he sighed, letting his body relax.

He ended up giving in, forcing the rest of the cough syrup down after Aizawa insisted that it would help, even if it tasted revolting. Hitoshi supposed that he was right—it didn't taste as bad mixed in with actual juice and once he got used to it, forcing it down wasn't the most difficult thing in the world.