Archive of Our Own ^beta

The students of Class 1A pushed eagerly out of their desks as the final bell rang, shoving personal items into their bags and chatting about how they were going to spend the weekend. Shouta Aizawa was tuning most of them out. It had been an exhausting week, and he was all frayed edges and dry eyes. He quickly helped Kaminari with some questions about his assignment as the occasional bubble of laughter bloomed from the crowd. The teens ambled out to the halls, and Kaminari gave Shouta a hasty thank you, scurrying after his classmates.

Shouta was finally in a gloriously empty room. He went over and closed the door, blocking out most of the sound that emanated from the crowded hallway.

Silence. Beautiful silence.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, hastily skimming recent messages with tired eyes. One of them in particular had grabbed his attention, and he wanted to read it again.

The classroom door burst open.

“Heyyyy! Buddy! Whatcha up to, my dude?” Hizashi greeted loudly, grinning as he bounced into the room.

So much for peace and quiet.

Shouta glowered and hastily slipped his phone back into his pocket, turning toward his desk and shoving papers into the file drawer.

“Nothing, just… looking at the news.” Shouta took out a key and locked the drawer as the voice hero sauntered over.

“Yeah? Anything interesting?” Hizashi plopped a forearm casually on top of Shouta’s shoulder and adjusted his glasses.

Shouta shrugged the arm off reflexively, pursing his lips as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “Nah. Just more political shit.” He headed out of the classroom and started walking down the now nearly empty halls towards the building’s south exit. Hizashi caught up and fell in step beside him.

“Welp! It’s the last Friday of the month, so me and Nem are gonna go bar hopping, you in?”

“I’ve got too much catching up to do,” Shouta said, shaking his head.

Hizashi frowned, eyebrows drooping skeptically as he grabbed Shouta’s arm, pulling him to a halt.

“Sho-chan...” Hizashi said, voice laced with concern. “All you do is work! How can you be behind?”

“I’m talking about sleep, Zashi. I have sleep to catch up on.” Shouta burrowed deeper into his capture scarf sulkily. “It was a busy week for patrols. You know how it gets around election time.”

“Ooooh… well that sucks…” Hizashi smiled wryly, looking somewhat mollified. He smoothed his moustache with a thumb and forefinger. “Can we do anything? Maybe bring you some takeout or something? Or we could bring beers to your place and chill together…” his mouth drooped. “I feel like I never see you anymore.”

Shouta sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. I’ll make it next time, I promise. But I’ve got to get some sleep.” Shouta side-eyed Hizashi. “You guys have a DD, right?”

“Of course, Sho, what do you take us for?” Hizashi replied, giving Shouta a playful punch in the arm.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Shouta said sternly, then tempered his voice as he glanced down at his shoes. “And… thanks for asking.”

Hizashi’s smile returned, though it lacked its usual effervescence. “No probs, bro! Just gimme a buzz if you change your mind!” He patted Shouta on the back. “I gotta go, Nem’s waiting. Sweet dreams, my guy!” He made double finger guns. “And you better eat something before you go to bed!” He turned and hurried back the way they’d come.

Shouta watched Hizashi’s retreating form briefly before continuing on his path to the south exit. He didn’t feel guilty. Not really.

Okay... maybe a little bit guilty… But only a little...

After all, it wasn’t exactly a lie. He was just a private person, and some things weren’t meant to be shared. Not even with a best friend. Besides, he really was busy, so it was true that he couldn’t go out. He desperately needed sleep, and studying the backs of his eyelids was definitely on the agenda. There were just… a few other details he had omitted.

There’s no way in hell Hizashi would believe me anyway.

It was kind of ridiculous—which was part of the appeal, of course. A sort of guilty pleasure. Not only that, but it gave Shouta a chance to set aside his own worries for a little while, to think about something else. Everyone needed that in their lives, and different people had different ways of relaxing.

There was also the fact that he was pretty sure both Hizashi and Nemuri had sent anons to his ask box in the past. So they might not appreciate finding out.

Shouta pushed through the glass doors and stepped out onto the concrete, following the wide paved path towards the dorm building. It was a brief five minute walk through immaculately cut lawns, with clusters of trees that provided a modest amount of shade. The day was beautiful. Warm, with a light breeze that was just cool enough to keep the sun from becoming oppressive.

Shouta didn’t have the presence of mind to properly enjoy it though. He was preoccupied. Thinking about that message.

He chewed his bottom lip as he pulled out his phone. Opening up his inbox as he walked, he thumbed his way to that message, reading it for the thirteenth—no, fourteenth—time that day.

“Dear HappyCat,

There’s this man I work with. Great guy, competent, super smart and admirable… and I think he hates me. I don’t know what to do. I’ve tried giving him gifts, or offering to buy him lunch, but he always shuts me down. I’m not exactly sure what I did to upset him. I’m worried I accidentally hurt his feelings or something. I know we have some differences of opinion, but our fundamental values are the same. I do talk a lot, and sometimes maybe come on too strong for people like him. He can be very quiet and thoughtful, and I worry he might find me annoying. Honestly though, I thought things had been going pretty well between us. I think I must have done or said something to upset him a couple of weeks ago. Now, every time I try to talk to him he pulls away, and he’s always looking for excuses to leave the room. I’m not sure what to do. Help?

—ColleagueConundrum”

It was sent on anon, of course. They always were. No one wanted anyone to actually know they were asking some internet loser for advice.

And Shouta understood that, since he didn’t want anyone to know that he was the internet loser giving the advice.

Working anonymously was an arrangement everyone appreciated, and was one of the things that actually made advice blogs work. There was nothing at stake. No judgement, no consequences. Just questions and answers. And any followthrough on the part of the asker was one hundred percent optional. Shouta rarely heard back from anyone, so he had no idea if they actually did what he said. But he figured some people must, since those messages kept coming to his inbox. Troubled people in need of a fresh perspective. And as a rational, level headed person, he had all the confidence he needed to dole it out with ease.

But this time was slightly more complicated, because Shouta was pretty sure he knew who ColleagueConundrum was.

Granted, there were a lot of people in Japan, and everyone probably had at least one double. But it was impossible not to see the parallels. And in Shouta’s opinion, this seemed like exactly the sort of thing Toshinori would do.

The problem—the giant hot mess, actually—was Shouta. Because the main reason he’d been avoiding Toshinori, and why he was moody as hell, was the simple fact that he liked the big blonde idiot.

In that way.

And Shouta was pretty sure the feeling wasn’t mutual. The one time he’d worked up the courage to ask him out for a drink—two weeks ago, in fact, just like the message said—he’d been flatly refused. Granted, Toshinori had a reason. He can’t drink alcohol because of his health, apparently.

But if he really wanted to go out, he’d have said yes. It’s not like you have to drink alcohol to “get a drink” with someone. And I really thought…

Of course, in typical fashion, Toshinori tried to extend the same offer later that day. It was pretty likely that—knowing Toshi and his patterns—he was feeling guilty for saying no. But the last thing Shouta wanted was a consolation date, so he declined.

He held out some hope that his feelings would fade once the rejection had come, but much to his frustration, his feelings were as strong as ever. It was really pissing him off. And that’s why he was so irritated whenever Toshinori came around.

And naturally, that only led to further self loathing.

What sort of asshole resents someone for not returning their feelings?

The heat of an angry and embarrassed flush crawled up Shouta’s cheeks. He stuffed the phone in his pocket and picked up the pace, eager to reach the dorm building and shut the door on the world as quickly as possible.

--

“Damn, Toshi, why do you keep staring at your phone?” Hizashi was somehow pouting with his entire body, leaning over his nearly empty beer mug. It was his second so far, and his cheeks were already flushing pink, eyes just beginning to gloss over a little. “Are we really that boring?”

“Yeah, Toshi,” Nemuri chimed in, brushing a stray bit of hair out of her face. “You do realize we didn’t just invite you to be the DD, right? You’re supposed to be hanging out! Put the damn phone away!” She reached across the table to grab at it, but Toshinori hastily pulled away and stuffed the phone into his pocket.

“No, it’s not like that! I’m just waiting to hear from someone.” Toshinori leaned forward on the table and folded his arms across it as his face bloomed red. “Sorry, you’re right. I’m not living in the moment, am I?” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Ooohoho, you just turned the color of a ripe tomato…” Hizashi pointed and giggled.

“He sure did,” Nemuri said, grinning into her glass before tossing back the last of what was now a third martini.

“Sooo… who are you waiting for a reply from exactly?” Hizashi bounced his eyebrows, grinning like a hyena.

“It’s not like that,” Toshinori said, rolling his eyes. “It’s just a personal matter, that’s all.”

“Man, last time I checked, doctors don’t make you blush.” Hizashi said with a raised eyebrow.

“Well… not a real doctor anyway,” Nemuri grinned, biting her lip, eyes hooded and sultry.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Toshinori said, turning darker and laughing with embarrassment. “And it’s not my doctor anyway.”

“Who then?” Nemuri said. “Come on, we’re just curious.”

“It’s nothing!”

Nemuri pouted and batted her eyelashes. “Aww, come on, pleeeeeeze?” she crooned.

“Fine,” Toshinori groaned. “I... sent an anon to HappyCat.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Hizashi gasped and sat up straighter. “Oooh, HappyCat! I love him! I’ve followed him for months—I’ve even asked him for advice before.”

“Really?” Toshinori perked up, eyebrows raised as a slight smile played at his lips.

Nemuri grinned, elbowing Hizashi in the ribs. “Let me guess. You couldn’t decide whether to wear leather or shredded denim.”

“Shut up!” Hizashi said, shoving her with his shoulder. “No, it was more serious than that. Sort of…”

“What was it?”

“Black eyeliner, glitter, or both.”

Nemuri threw her head back and cackled.

“That’s an important decision!” Hizashi said, leaning slightly away from her and scowling.

“What did he say?” Toshinori asked.

“He said I should go with my gut, since most people wouldn’t notice either way.”

“Pfff,” Nemuri fell out laughing again. “Ouch.”

“Shut up!” Hizashi said, kicking her under the table. “It made sense, ‘cause I told him I was DJing, so I was gonna be on stage! That was his whole point!” He crossed his arms. “Besides, I happen to know you’ve asked HappyCat for dating advice before.”

“So what?” She waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not like I take it that seriously. Advice blogs are really just sounding boards, you know.” She ran her fingers through her hair casually, fluffing it with a little shake. “No one ever follows the advice unless they were already planning to anyway.”

“They don’t?” Toshinori asked, raising both eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t,” Nemuri said with a grin. She held up her hand for the server and signaled another round.

“So what were you asking, Toshi?” Hizashi said, resting his chin in his hand. Toshinori looked down at the table sheepishly.

“Just… umm… interpersonal advice.” He nervously dragged his finger back and forth on the edge of the table.

“This is about Shouta, isn’t it?” Nemuri straightened in her chair, grinning.

Toshinori furrowed his brows, head sinking into his shoulders slightly as the flush returned to his face.

“Dude!” Hizashi said with a laugh, shaking his head. “I told you not to take the things he says so personally! He’s like that with everyone, prickly bastard.” He tossed back the final dregs of his beer..

Nemuri nodded. “Yeah, he likes you just fine, he just doesn’t do all that feely stuff very well, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Toshinori said, glancing between the two of them, mouth drooping anxiously. “I mean… I think I might have hurt his feelings a couple of weeks ago, when he offered to buy me a drink.” He picked at his fingernails nervously. “I… kinda said no thanks, ‘cause I can’t drink, and I honestly didn’t think he wasn’t seriously offering anyway, you know? Like maybe he was just trying to be polite or something?” His voice was thin and uncertain. “But he seemed more bothered by it than I expected. I tried to make it up to him by offering to buy him one, but he said no, and ever since then, he seems like he’s been trying to avoid me.”

Hizashi and Nemuri stared, wide eyed and speechless for a few beats.

“Oooooh… shiiiit…” Hizashi said with a grimace..

“Oh my god…” Nemuri echoed, facepalming.

“What?” Toshinori sat up straighter, raising his eyebrows as he gripped the edge of the table in alarm. “What’d I do? Shit, did I screw up?”

“It’s just…” Hizashi began, waving his hands searchingly. Nemuri glanced at him, rolling her eyes slightly as she sat up. She reached across the table, putting a hand on top of Toshinori’s.

“No, sweetie, you didn’t screw up.”

Hizashi sighed. “Look, the first thing you need to know about Shouta is that he doesn’t do things ‘to be polite’. He only does them if he wants to. The second thing is…” he trailed off, pursing his lips as his eyes wandered the booth in search of words.

“The second thing,” Nemuri said, “is that Shouta was asking you out. On a date.”

“On a…” Toshinori blinked stupidly. “...wait, a d...date?”

Nemuri patted his hand gently. “He’s never been very good at it, because… well, he’s just used to getting rejected a lot.” She shrugged somberly. “I mean, a lot of the men he’s asked have turned out to be straight guys. It’s not something that’s easy for him, that’s all.”

“So,” Hizashi leaned forward as he spoke, “he tends to just, you know, put out feelers when he’s trying to gauge whether or not someone might be interested.” He smoothed his moustache with one of his knuckles. “It’s just… a way for him to keep from getting hurt, you know?”

Nemuri sat back and pushed her glasses higher up on the bridge of her nose. “If he went as far as to actually offer to buy you a drink, that means he likes you, and he thought maybe you liked him back.”

“Oh shit…” Toshinori put his head in his hands. “Oh man… I’m such an idiot…”

“Look, it’s okay, dude, you aren’t obligated to like him,” Hizashi said, patting him on the shoulder. “It sucks and everything, but he’d rather you turn him down than string him along.”

Toshinori slowly shook his head. “No, you don’t understand… I do like him.” His mouth curved down in a deep frown, forehead crinkled anxiously. “I like Shouta… in that way.”

—

“Dear a ColleagueConundrum,

…”

Shouta stared at the reply box, measuring his breathing. For the first time since he started—almost two years ago now—he was beginning to regret this whole advice blog thing.

What the fuck do I tell him? Your friend has a crush on you, and he just needs some time to get over it?

Shouta cursed under his breath and pushed himself up off the futon. He grabbed the empty beer bottle that was on the floor next to his bed and threw it in the recycling bin. There were several more in the mini fridge… He hesitated, then went and pulled out another beer. His third. Normally he didn’t drink more than one when he was alone, but these were extenuating circumstances.

Think, Shouta. What if it’s not Toshinori? It’s probably a complete stranger, talking about some other person you don’t even know, and your feelings have nothing to do with it. You’re just projecting, dumbass. And even if it is Toshi, it’s not like he knows you’re HappyCat, so it doesn’t matter anyway.

Shouta popped the cap off the beer and took a long pull, walking back to the futon and plopping down in front of his laptop, once again staring at the screen.

“Dear ColleagueConundrum,

…”

He took another drink and set the bottle on the wood floor next to his bed, then pulled the computer into his lap and started typing.

“First of all, don’t take things so personally. Chances are, your colleague doesn’t hate you. He might just be busy, or distracted by his personal life. Some people withdraw when they have a full plate. Maybe he got his heart hurt recently. Or he might just have a lot on his mind, and needs some time to think. Based on what you’ve told me, gifts are not wanted or needed, he’s made that plain by refusing them, so maybe what he needs is some space. If you think he needs encouragement—”

Shouta stopped, chewing the inside of his lip thoughtfully. Up to this point in the message, he thought he was being fairly objective. He was trying to be at least. But he was definitely entering projection territory now. He wasn’t sure it was ethical to insert himself into the message like this, but it was fucking hard not to.

Still… what was the harm in it?

Hesitating a few more moments, Shouta deleted the last sentence and started again.

“...If I were your colleague and in need of encouragement, a simple gesture to show you care is enough. Bring him a cup of coffee, for example. Don’t make a big deal out of it, just bring it. It’s possible he will respond to simple acts of kindness more than he would to big, grand gestures like gifts and meals. It would let him know you care without making him feel overwhelmed. Then step back and leave him be. Let me know how things go, okay, Anon?”

He always said that at the end of the message, but people rarely did. Which was fine. Most of the time, Shouta was more curious than concerned. It really depended on the seriousness of the question.

After reading and rereading a handful of times—tweaking the grammar here and there—Shouta hit the post button. He watched the screen as it processed the command, then checked to make sure it had loaded to his page properly before shutting down the laptop. The other messages were already replied to. Thankfully it had been a slow evening.

God, I’m tired.

Shouta set the computer aside and chugged the last of his beer. He did a few quick stretches, then took the bottle to the kitchen and put it in the recycling bin. A short time later—teeth brushed, clothes doffed—Shouta crawled under the blankets and turned out the lamp next to his bed. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

--

“Oh! I heard back from HappyCat!” Toshinori held up his phone and wiggled it.

“Give it here!” A thoroughly inebriated Hizashi reached a floppy arm across the table.

“No! You’ll drop it!” Toshinori said, sounding much more perturbed than he looked, since he couldn’t suppress a grin. Hammered Hizashi, as it turned out, was pretty hilarious.

“You guys are ridicly-us,” Nemuri said.

“I’m prrflectly serious!” Hizashi slurred.

Toshinori cleared a chuckle from his throat. “I think it’s time to go home.”

“Aww, dad, do we hafta?” Nemuri whined.

“Yep! Way past your bedtime, kiddos.”

“Hehehehe kiddos,” Hizashi chuckled. “Yer old. Old Might.”

“Yes, yes…” Toshinori helped them out of the booth and threw an arm under each of them, guiding them out of the building and towards the car. He’d never done DD duty for these two before, but it wasn’t his first rodeo. He buckled them in and gently drove them home, praying fervently to the gods of inebriation that neither of them made a mess in his car. Once home, he made sure they drank some water, tucked them into bed, and left a note with the recipe for his never-fail hangover cure.

When he got back to his car, Toshinori opened his phone again, finally reading the message from HappyCat. He read it five more times before setting the phone down in the empty seat next to him.

An interesting suggestion. And certainly worth a try.

After driving himself home and hauling his tired ass up the stairs to his flat, Toshinori opened his phone and read the reply a few more times. He took a shower, put on pajamas, and took his pills. It was way past his bedtime, and he was definitely feeling it. Toshinori crawled under the blankets, turned off the lamp, and went to sleep… but not before opening his phone and reading the post a tenth time for good measure.

--

Shouta was brutally awakened from the most luxurious slumber he’d had in quite some time. Someone knocking on his door.

Goddammit.

If he didn’t live in a flat on campus, he would have ignored it, rolled over, and gone back to sleep. But as a dorm parent, it was his duty to answer.

“Just a minute!” Shouta called peevishly as he threw off the blankets and pulled a t-shirt and sweats on. He shuffled tiredly to the door and opened it a crack.

“Good morniiiiing!” A perky, sweet-faced twenty-something said, flicking her bushy red squirrel tail. “I have your coffee for you! Inch of cream, no sugar, right?” She extended a take-out cup, steam curling from the mouthpiece seductively.

“Mm?” Shouta’s mouth drooped in confusion. “I didn’t order any coffee.”

“Yeah, the guy on the phone said you’d say that, but he said to just tell you not to worry about it, and that it’s just a…” she glanced at a slip of paper in her other hand. “...a gesture of kindness.” She nodded and grinned, proffering the cup once more. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Oooooh… shiiiiit…

Shouta reached out and took the coffee. “Ah… thanks. Hang on a second.” He stepped inside and rifled through a jar on his dresser for a few singles, bringing them back and placing them in the woman’s hand. “Have a good one.”

“Thank you, sir, same to you!” She bowed and scurried off, fluffy tail trailing behind her.

Shouta pushed the door gently closed until he heard the click of the latch, staring at the cup stupidly. He worried his bottom lip as he watched the steam coils rising into the air and dissipating.

What have I done?

Shouta closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, sighing loudly. A moment later, his phone pinged, pulling him out of his stupor. Sighing again, he walked to the kitchenette and set the coffee on the counter, heading to his futon and picking up his phone. It was for HappyCat. He thumbed the message open.

“Dear HappyCat,

It’s me, ColleagueConundrum again. I took your advice and had coffee delivered to my coworker. I figure, since you suggested he might want space, it would be better than taking it to him myself. I’ll let you know what happens. Thanks for the help!”

Shouta sighed and dropped his phone on the bed, running a hand across his stubble. “Well, fuck.”

--

On Monday morning, Shouta walked into the empty faculty room, and found himself greeted by a steaming cup of coffee. Just sitting there casually on his desk, waiting for him.

Coffee had been delivered to his dorm on Sunday, too.

God, Toshinori, you can be so obtuse sometimes.

This was getting out of hand. Granted, Shouta had admitted to himself that he put that coffee comment at the end of his post just to test his theory. But he hadn’t actually expected Toshinori to take him so literally. And every damn day, too. The guilt was gnawing at him.

He walked over to his desk and set his satchel down, looking into the mug of nut-brown liquid. Steam wafted up to warm his face. There was a sticky note next to it, its corner tucked just under the cup. Enjoy! it said.

The giver hadn’t signed their name, but of course Shouta knew who it was from. He groaned and palmed his forehead, on the verge of exasperation at this point.

The click of the door sounded behind him, accompanied by footsteps. Shouta turned to see Hizashi, who gave him a big grin and a wave.

“Hey, buddy!” the voice hero said, kicking the door closed behind him. “Happy Monday! ...Wow, you look exhausted...:” Hizashi’s demeanor changed from chipper to concerned. “I thought you were gonna catch up on sleep this weekend, what gives?”

Shouta sighed and rolled his eyes, plopping into his chair with a glower before leaning over and resting his forehead on the desk.

“Hey, man, what’s goin’ on? Are you okay?” Hizashi walked over and put a hand on Shouta’s back.

“I did something stupid.”

Hizashi huffed a laugh. “Shouta level stupid, or Nemuri level stupid?”

“What’s a higher level of stupid?”

“Nuh uh… No way...” Hizashi grabbed the nearest chair and pulled it over, sitting down next to him. “There is no way you’ve surpassed Nem’s 2012 festival caper.”

There was a brief pause before Shouta lifted his head. “Okay, maybe not that stupid…” He dropped his head again. “But I think I’ve outdone myself.”

Hizashi studied him for a few moments, then gave his shoulder a shove. “Well?? You can’t tell me that and then leave me hangin’, bro!”

Shouta sighed and sat up, slouching sullenly in his chair.

“I…” Shouta paused. “Okay, so you know…” he stopped again, running a hand through his messy hair. “Fuck, where do I start?”

“Does this require drinks? Should we save it for after school?”

“Yeah,” Shouta said with a slight nod, pensively staring at his lap. “Maybe. Just… don’t tell Nem, okay?”

“Aww,” Hizashi pouted, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest sulkily. “You’re no fun.”

“You two are impossible when you’re together,” Shouta replied, voice a bit harsher than he meant it to be.

“Fine, fine…” Hizashi rolled the chair backwards and stood up, glancing towards his desk. “Okay, I gotta get my shit together.”

“I’ve been telling you that your whole life.”

“Not my *whole* life, mister i-did-something-stupider-than-Nem’s-festival-caper.”

“I did not!” Shouta said, raising his hands defensively. “Besides, it’s an entirely different kind of stupid.”

Hizashi smirked. “Well, that’s probably good at least. Although the mental picture of you—”

“Don’t.” Shouta’s eyes glowed faintly red, and his hair rustled a little.

Hizashi cackled. “I’m kidding! Okay, I need—what do I need?” he marched towards his desk. “Worksheets! Yes, I need worksheets.”

Shouta picked up the coffee—now lukewarm at best—and took it to the kitchenette, dumping it in the staff room sink. He rinsed the cup and poured himself a fresh serving. It was a shame, wasting the coffee, but it felt too weird drinking it. Shouta splashed a bit of cream in and gave it a stir, then returned to his desk and tried to focus on preparing for class. It didn’t escape his notice that Hizashi was watching him the whole damn time.

--

“Hey, Mic! Can I talk to you for a minute?” Toshinori said, sauntering into the now empty classroom on those impossibly long legs. Hizashi looked up and grinned.

“Of course, big guy! What’s up?”

“It’s about Friday night.” Toshinori glanced at the door to make sure no one else was coming.

“Oh! I gotcha!” Hizashi grinned and winked, walking to the door and closing it with a click. He turned to face Toshinori. “So…?”

“I just… I think there might be a misunderstanding.” Toshinori massaged his hands nervously, glancing to the side. “About what you said? About... him… you know…”

“...liking you?” Hizashi looked over the rims of his sunglasses.

Toshinori nodded. “Yes, well… I think you might be reading into it wrong. You have to understand the context.” Toshinori’s words came faster the more he talked, voice strained and anxious. “See, we were doing the parent visits, and he’d been going on about how difficult it was going to be, and how it was important to be very serious and careful about how we approach them, you know? ‘Cause it was going to take a lot of convincing to get their support. We’d broken their trust, and that—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you,” Hizashi said, waving his hand in a get-to-the-point motion.

Toshinori nodded again. “Right. So when it turned out to be, like, stupid easy, he said, ‘I guess I owe you a drink’.”

“...And then…?” Hizashi said after an expectant pause.

“No, you see, there was a reason he was asking,” Toshinori took a step forward. “When you look at the context. It wasn’t like he was ‘asking' asking. It was just, you know, the context of what he said that led up to him asking—or rather, not asking—and it was more like a polite suggestion. I mean when you… when you look at the—”

“Context?”

“Yes. The... context.” Toshinori’s shoulders sagged.

Hizashi sighed, putting a hand on his hip and pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Okay, first of all, is this literally all you’ve thought about since Friday?”

“Well…” Toshinori’s cheeks turned red and he chuckled, twisting his bangs around his finger sheepishly.

“Look,” Hizashi said, leaning forward and patting Toshinori on the arm comfortingly. “I know you don’t like the idea that you might have hurt his feelings, but Shouta is a big boy, he can take it.”

Toshinori worried his hands and sighed. “Are you… are you, I mean, can you be sure? Does he… does he really…?”

“Yes. Really.” Hizashi pressed his lips into a line and nodded slowly. “I’ve known Shouta more than fifteen years, my guy.”

Toshinori bit his lip and averted his gaze, expression drooping anxiously.

It wasn’t often that Hizashi was at a loss for words, but this was one of those times. He grimaced, eyes wandering as he scratched his chin. “I mean, just… you know… it’s not like this situation isn’t salvageable…” he said lamely, glancing at his feet like he might find something to say there.

A moment later, Hizashi’s eyes lit up.

“Oh!” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Toshinori. “I just remembered! You never told us what HappyCat said!”

“That’s right,” Toshinori looked back at Hizashi and gave a melancholy smile. “You guys were too drunk for me to tell you, haha… he just said to give Shouta space. Like maybe he was just going through some things, or maybe had his heart broken.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He was surprisingly insightful, actually. He also suggested I bring him coffee. You know, as a kind gesture to encourage him. So I’ve been having coffee sent to his flat, and I left some on his desk this morning.”

“That’s… oddly specific…” Hizashi looked puzzled. Half a moment passed, and his eyes suddenly widened.

“Hmm?”

“Er, nothing. I gotta finish up!” He gave Toshinori a friendly pat on the arm as he pulled the door open. “Seeya tomorrow!” He gently guided Toshinori out of his classroom and closed the door on him.

“Oh, okay! ...Bye…!” Toshinori’s muffled reply bled through the cracks in the door.

Hizashi had already whipped out his phone and was rapid-typing.

With both thumbs.

--

Shouta adjusted the strap of his satchel, and was reaching to turn off the classroom lights when his phone vibrated against his thigh. He flicked the switch and reached into his pocket, pulling out the device and thumbing it open to read the message.

Hizashi: You’re HappyCat!! YOU ARE HAPPYCAT! OH MY GOD!!!!! WHAT THE ACTUAL MAGICAL UNICORN POOPS!!!

Shouta cursed under his breath and thumbed out a response.

Me: Just meet me at the bar, and if you say anything, I will dismember you, and hide your body parts in so many places, the vultures won’t even be able to find you!

He hit reply irritably and started stalking down the hall. It was stupid to be angry, and now he felt guilty for his sour text.

You were about to tell him anyway, you idiot... fuck, how the hell did he even figure it out?

It was possible he read the blog post, and put two and two together. Hizashi could be a real dumbass, but he wasn’t stupid.

Goddammit.

He should probably say sorry. He’d wait til he got to the bar. Text apologies were lame at best, and dismissive at worst.

Shouta’s phone buzzed again, and he glanced at it.

Hizashi: Damn! Harsh, bro! That’s it, you’re paying my tab!

He grumbled under his breath and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, turning a corner to find himself face to face with Toshinori.

Goddammit!

“Oh!” Toshinori said, putting up his hands defensively, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry, Shouta! Didn’t mean to crowd your space. I’ll just…” He crossed to the other side of the hall and kept walking. Shouta’s eyes followed his retreating form for several moments before he turned and marched sullenly down the hall towards the exit.

God fucking dammit!

--

“Took you long enough,” Hizashi said, drumming the table. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.”

“Great,” Shouta said, sliding into the opposite side of the booth, catching Hizashi’s eye before redirecting his view to the tabletop. “Sorry.”

“No big.”

An uncomfortable silence spread between them.

“Sooo…” Hizashi finally said. “Coffee every day, huh?”

Shouta groaned and propped his chin in his hand. “Did he talk to you or something?”

“Yeah…” Hizashi couldn’t keep from grinning. “But dude, how did you know it was him?”

“How did you know it was me?” Shouta said with a shrug.

“I did math, duh. But seriously, you’re flippin’ HappyCat! You get messages from all over Japan! It’s one thing to add up several coincidences between friends, but you draw from an awfully deep pool!”

“I didn’t know for sure, I just…” Shouta’s eyes roamed the bar. “I thought it might be, and I didn’t know what to say. So… I had a few beers, and then…” he looked Hizashi in the eye briefly.

“...And then you told him to bring you coffee every day?” Hizashi’s eyebrows were sky high, and there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I didn’t say every day!” Shouta said defensively, leaning forward as he lowered his hand to the table. “And I didn’t say it like a command or something, it was offered as an example of what he was supposed to figure out for himself!”

Hizashi burst out laughing. “That is such bullshit! You were trying to test your theory!”

“I was drunk!” Shouta squeezed his fist tighter in irritation.

“Pleeeeeze, three beers?” Hizashi said, waving a hand dismissively. “You were relaxed at best!”

Shouta scoffed and leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “...I… maybe might have had ulterior motives... but only a little bit! I swear to god, I sat in front of the screen for the better part of an hour trying to be objective.”

“You just couldn’t help yourself,” Hizashi said, voice still laced with what remained of his laughter. “You and your ruses.”

“Shut up,” Shouta pouted.

A server came by and dropped off the drinks. Two mugs of beer, and two shots of whiskey.

“Oooooh no,” Shouta scoffed and scooted away, face contorting repugnantly as he pushed the beer and the whiskey shot towards the center of the table. “No. I am not doing this again.”

“Oh yes you are,” Hizasha slapped the table. “Come on, drop that bad boy!”

“You are such…” Shouta shook his head, looking away.

“Dude, you need it, you’re wound up tighter than grandpa on election day!”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Shouta scowled.

“Just drink the damn boilermaker, holy hell!” Hizashi threw a hand in the air hopelessly.

Shouta glared across the table, then leaned forward and swiftly dropped the shot into the beer—glass and all—and started to chug the whole thing.

“Yeah! That’s right!” Hizashi whooped.

Shouta swallowed the last of the drink and gasped for air, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and belching. “I’m going to regret my entire life, aren’t I...”

“Naaah, the only reason you regretted it last time was the fact that you followed it up with such a wide assortment of other delightful beverages…” He grinned fiendishly. “But! ...it’s a school night, so we won’t be doing that.” He frowned. “Dammit.”

“My saving grace.” Shouta cleared the last of the foam from his throat. “What about you?”

“Oh! Right.” Hizashi dropped the shot into the beer glass and… sipped it daintily.

“What?! Fuck you!”

Hizashi threw his head back and laughed. “Revenge for your shitty text earlier.”

Shouta frowned sheepishly and looked away.

“Besides, I haven’t seen Shitfaced Shouta in ages, it’s like I don’t even know him anymore! I wanted to catch at least a glimpse of him...”

“Come on, Zashi, we’re not kids anymore,” Shouta groused, but couldn’t help the brief huff of a laughter that escaped his throat as he rolled his eyes.

“Except on the last Friday of the month!” Hizashi grinned.

“You’re hopeless.” Shouta let out another short laugh, shaking his head.

“See? You’re already starting to relax.” Hizashi’s grin turned into a soft smile. “Truth be told, I’ve been kinda worried about you lately.”

Shouta glanced sidelong at him before looking away, toeing his boot into the table post.

“Seriously, you’ve been…” Hizashi waved vaguely with his fingers, “somewhere else.”

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind…” Shouta stared at the base of the empty beer mug. He was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol already.

“I know.”

Shouta glanced up sharply. “You know… what?”

“Toshinori was our DD on Friday. He told us about parent conference day.”

Shouta’s eyes widened in realization before he glanced away, muttering expletives under his breath.

“I know your MO… why didn’t you tell me?” Hizashi’s tone was softer, laced with deep concern.

“I don’t know.” A short, sour laugh bubbled out of Shouta’s chest as he shook his head, glancing up at the ceiling. “I’m just tired. Tired of… of hoping, and then getting my heart dropped.” He swallowed, voice sounding thick and foreign. “It’s easier if I keep my feelings on the DL, then it’s not so bad when it doesn’t work out.” Shouta rolled his eyes and sighed. “Except for when I fuck up royally and have to spill my guts to you anyway.” He made an angry tsk on the roof of his mouth. A beat passed, then suddenly Shouta reached across the table and grabbed Hizashi’s still-full beer mug and began chugging.

“Hey! Whoa! Slow down, idiot! School night, remember?”

Shouta finished chugging and set the mug down, wiping his mouth. “What are you, my mom?”

“Oh god, you are well on your way to Shitfaced Shouta territory, maybe we should go.” Hizashi couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nah, I’m done,” Shouta chuckled mirthlessly. “It was just annoying the hell out of me that you weren’t drinking it.”

“I don’t envy your students tomorrow, I’ll tell you that…” Hizashi chuckled. “But seriously, Shouta, I think… after talking to Toshi, I think there’s been a huge misunderstanding.”

“I… what?” Shouta arched an eyebrow skeptically. He was beginning to feel pretty foggy. “Sorry, start over.”

“Well, you know Toshi! Bless his heart, he’s a wonderful guy, but he can be kinda thick-headed sometimes.”

“What’s your point?”

“After what he told me, I knew—I KNEW—what you were up to. But Toshi didn’t get it.” He leaned forward. “Did you know he can’t drink?”

“Yeah, he mentioned that.” Shouta’s eyes wandered the bar distantly.

“Right. So when you asked him, he defaulted.”

Shouta furrowed his brow, squinting. “Huh?”

Hizashi sighed in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Goddammit, why’d you have to drink that second boilermaker!”

“Well, I wouldn’t have if you’d done it for me!” Shouta groused, throwing a hand in the air.

“Have you even eaten today?”

“Yes. No…? I don’t remember. Probably. Does it matter?”

Hizashi made a scoffing sound on the roof of his mouth. “Well, the liquor’s hitting you kinda fast!”

“Well, I drank it kinda fast, soooo…”

Hizashi groaned. “God… okay, try to focus.”

“I’m focused!” Shouta said, followed by a few choice words muttered behind his lips.

“Okay,” Hizashi began, leaning against the table and gesturing with his hands on its formica top.

“Okay. Yes.” Shouta nodded, eyes wandering the room again.

“Toshinori,” Hizashi began.

“Toshinori,” Shouta repeated.

“Likes you.”

“Likes you. Wait…” He looked sharply at Hizashi.

“I swear to god, don’t tell him I told you. Just… cheer up and go get ‘im. Later,” he added hastily, raising a staying hand, “when you’re sober. Don’t do it now, you’re already a mess. Damn, you’re losing your touch, dude!”

“Wait, he likes… you?” Shouta pointed at Hizashi.

“Pfff!” Hizashi laughed. “God no! That’s funny.” He reached across the table and grabbed Shouta by the shoulder, giving him a shake. “He likes yooooou! He likes Shouta Aizawa, the homeroom teacher of Class 1A at UA high school!”

“What?” Shouta shook him off. “Nononono, he turned me down when I asked him out for a drink. People don’t do that when they like you.”

“Normal people, maybe, but Toshinori is a babe in the woods when it comes to this sort of thing.” Hizashi cleared his throat. “...or so it would seem.”

“What are you basing this on?”

“He told me. With words. From his mouth.”

“He told you?”

“He told me.”

“He told you.”

“With words, from his mouth, yes, I believe I already said that.”

“Are you sure?” Shouta’s brow dropped in confusion.

Hizashi rolled his eyes. “Hmm, let me see… how would you interpret, ‘I like Shouta’?”

“He likes everyone!” Shouta scoffed, pulling his head back skeptically.

Hizashi glanced at the ceiling. “God help me.” He reached across the table and patted Shouta on the hand. “Shouta, there’s this little thing called context. Me and Toshinori were discussing it earlier, in fact…”

“Wait… seriously?” Shouta sat up straighter. “You… he… he told you he likes me?”

“Those very words, bro.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Wh… H... Holy shit!” Shouta huffed, running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, holy shit!” Hizashi laughed.

--

Toshinori was at his desk, staring at a pile of papers hopelessly. He was so behind on grading, and he couldn’t focus. His mind kept straying back to the events over the last couple of weeks, and how he’d totally blown it. And the advice from HappyCat didn’t seem to be working. When he ran into Shouta in the hall last night, he seemed angrier than ever. Was he making things worse? Sighing, he tucked a pencil behind his ear and reached to pick up the first essay, when a cup suddenly appeared on top of it. Hot tea, plain, steam rising in curly patterns to warm his face. He looked up.

“Hey.” Shouta was leaning against the desk, arms crossed, looking down at the floor.

Toshinori leaned back hesitantly. “Oh. Hey, Shouta...”

“I’m sorry.”

Toshinori furrowed his brow. “You’re… sorry?”

“For being… unpleasant.” He still avoided eye contact, absently rolling the heel of his boot on the floor.

“Oh…” Toshinori relaxed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um… Thanks. It’s okay. I…”

“I’m HappyCat.” Shouta glanced up briefly, gauging his reaction.

Toshinori’s head drew back in surprise and confusion. “You’re… H-HappyCat?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh…. Oh…” Toshinori’s cheeks turned—as Hizashi would say—the color of a ripe tomato.

“I thought maybe you messaged me, and I wanted to test my theory, so I told you to bring me some coffee. It was selfish and stupid.”

“You... knew it was me...”

Shouta sighed. “I haven’t been very nice to you lately, and then I toyed with you when you were vulnerable. It was a shitty thing to do.”

Toshinori grimaced, averting his gaze as he threaded his fingers together in his lap. “Shouta, I think there was a misunderstanding, a couple of weeks ba—”

“Will you go on a date with me?”

Toshinori looked up sharply. Shouta was staring at his boots, cheeks bright pink as he chewed his bottom lip, still rolling his heel back and forth on the floor. It was ridiculously charming how much he looked like an awkward, nervous teenager.

“I mean,” Shouta glanced sidelong at him. “Maybe a cafe. You know, since…”

“Since I can’t drink.” Toshinori smiled, tilting his head.

“I think I owe you at least that much, with all the coffee you sent me.”

Toshinori laughed. “Well…”

Shouta turned to face him. “Or a kiss, I could pay you back with a kiss…”

Toshinori reached out and took Shouta’s hand, forcing him to uncross his arms as he pulled him forward. “How about both?”

Shouta grinned, turning a shade darker. “That’s probably fair.”

“Date first though.”

“Right. Date first.”