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It happened late a few months ago in bed, Hizashi wrapped around you as usual, when he spoke into the back of your head.
“You still up?” he asked, voice creaky from the long hours of disuse. When he didn’t receive any response, he sighed and continued to speak. “I’m sorry. For how I treat you. I just… you’re just… never mind. The things you make me feel are just so strong, and I want to protect you. Everything I do is to try and keep you here with me.” Hizashi’s weight shifted a little, and he rolled away, hair somehow finding its way into your mouth. “You aren’t even awake right now, and even just laying here next to you makes me so happy I can barely breathe.” He went silent after that, and left you to stew in your own thoughts. Sleep didn’t find you that night until early in the morning when the sun was just beginning to peek through the blinds.
When you woke again, the bed was long since emptied. His “side” lay cold. Maybe Hizashi wasn’t so bad after all. The intrusive thought was quickly pushed from your mind by the aftereffects of the high he’d forced you into.
“Come on, take a hit,” he laughed in between jittery giggles. His eyes slanted the way they got when he was looking for a quick fuck. “I promise it’s not painful.” When you hadn’t responded, he’d pulled you toward him by your jaw and forced your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your lungs. You coughed and pushed him away, but that didn’t stop him from going back three or four more times. Everything gained the telltale soft edge of a high and you stopped fighting back as passionately. He let out a small, pleased, sound and wrapped one arm around you. Hizashi used the other to crush the end of the still-burning blunt in the ashtray he kept by the bed, and, once he was confident it was put out, he dove under the covers and went to work, peppering kisses up your thighs until he reached his prize.
Jumping back to the present, you didn’t move from the bed. Everything was too damn bright, you wanted to tear your eyes out. Screwing them shut, you curled up and went back to sleep. You were only roused by the creak of a door and Hizashi’s voice. “Hey, babe, I made you some breakfast. I figured after last night you’d really be feeling hungry.” You sat up and stared at him blankly. “Please don’t give me that look. Why don’t you ever just talk to me? Isn’t it a whole lot harder to purposely stay silent than to say what’s on your mind?”
Your stare harshened into a glare, and he passed you a plate. You wordlessly accepted and took a bite of the buttered toast.
You hated this. Every goddamn part. The way he acted like this was somehow normal, that you were here because you wanted to be, and how he pretended he didn’t know what he had done? Coupled with the crippling isolation and the boredom and the loneliness, you hated this. You hated him.
But looking at the man who sat across from you, cross-legged, on the pale white covers of the bed you shared, watching your reaction to see if you liked the toast, you weren’t so sure.
Before you knew it, Valentine’s Day was upon you both. You had a plan in mind, and goddammit if you weren’t going to go through with it!
The months had turned the hatred into a sort of dull acceptance, where now you could look at Hizashi without cold fire bubbling up inside of you like a geyser. It certainly helped that he was the only person you’d seen in the length of time you had been his “live-in partner” apart from the 2D actors on screen. The blowing of smoke and spiking of drinks gave way to dubiously consensual sexual encounters, and for the first time in about six months, you could say with certainty that you were enjoying yourself between the sheets.
Hizashi had been gone all day long, and you had a surprise planned for him when he got home. The strawberries in the fridge were cooling until, hopefully, the chocolate hardened into a shell around them. He shouldn’t be home for another two hours, so you had plenty of time.
Or so you thought.
“[Honey, I’m home!]” Hizashi trilled, the door slamming open. You jumped, your Quirk panic-activating, and almost sent the pots you had left to soak towards you at terminal velocity.
“Don’t scare me like that!” you called. Shit. At this rate, he was going to waltz right into the kitchen like he always did and see what you had been up to. You pulled your hair out of the tie and slid it onto your wrist, washed the stray chocolate from your face and hands, and made your way to the foyer. The kitchen, however, still looked like a hurricane had hit. Hizashi was there, of course, toeing off his boots and running a hand through his hair to break it free. The jacket had found its way haphazardly to a hook, and his directional speaker sat on the shelf lovingly set aside for it. Maybe you could distract him long enough for the strawberries to freeze in time…?
One of his hands was conspicuously pinned behind his back, and Hizashi tried and failed to hide his smile. “Oh! Emily, I have something for you I thought you might like,” he waggled his eyebrows and finally revealed what he wasn’t really hiding to begin with; a bouquet of deep red roses. “Happy Valentine’s day, babe. I know you couldn’t really…. get anything for me, so don’t worry about it!” Was that… disappointment that reared its head for a moment? Oh, did you have a surprise for him! All you needed was just a bit of time. You took the roses and embraced him, squishing the flowers awkwardly between the two of you.
“Thank you, ‘Zashi,” you breathed into his shirt, and you could have sworn you heard a little mutter of ‘finally’ from somewhere above you. One hand rubbed the small of your back and the other just rested around your shoulders. Eventually, Hizashi broke away, and he looked as if he was about to cry.
“Hey, I’m kind of hungry. It’s been… a long day. How’s about we start dinner, yeah?” he made for the kitchen, and you stepped in front of him too fast to be accidental.
“What about ordering in?”
“Mmmm, nah, we’ve been doing that a lot lately,” he countered neatly.
“A nice, romantic, pizza!” your voice shook just a bit.
Hizashi brought up, without missing a beat, “Don’t you not like pizza?”
“Yeah, but don’t you? And isn’t love about making sacrifices?” Oh, no. Now you were getting flustered.
He didn’t respond right away and just stared. “I’m not gonna lie. It’s sketchy as hell that you keep trying to keep me out of my own kitchen like there’s a dead body in the sink. Is there some reason you’re doing this, and are you going to let me through, or will I have to force my way past you?” All of his earlier softness had left him, gentle gazes replaced by a hard glare that cut through you and your facade. He’s going to be so pissed at me–!
You stared him down for all of five seconds before sidestepping and letting him through, dropping your gaze sheepishly to the ground.
“What the hell happened in here?” came his snappy response, and he stood in the doorway gesturing at the mess that had somehow covered most available surfaces.
“I was trying to make something, and you got home earlier than expected, so I didn’t have any timetocleanpleasedon’tgetmadatme!”
The Voice Hero, known for never being silent, shut up for a moment. “Why would I be mad at you?” the smile from earlier had finally made its way back onto his face, and he could barely contain his joy. “Come on, let’s clean this up. There are more paper towels under the sink.”
As you both cleaned, he hummed, and there seemed to be just a little more spring in his step than usual.
The night was a quiet one, and after a long debate over what to do, you ended up just watching a movie on the couch. The whole time Hizashi talked over the actors, but as you lay in his lap (still fully lucid!), every once in a while he’d stop and just admire your face. A little weird, yeah, but hey!
The strawberries did turn out all right in the end, after all.