Chapter Text
Beams of yellow sunlight danced across Shouta’s face and dragged him mercilessly from the deserts of his dreams back into reality. Apparently Hizashi had decided to be cruel – he usually kept the shades courteously drawn on nights Shouta crashed on his couch in a drunken stupor. He’d probably said something mean before he passed out.
He probably needed to apologize. Ugh.
Scrubbing a hand across crusty eyes, Shouta grunted as he shifted his body around on the couch to the point of nearly falling off. He hurt. His other arm was asleep. Why had excessive drinking seemed like such a good idea?
When he finally forced his tired, dry eyes open he found a pair of yellow cat eyes peering down at him from the back of the couch. A handsome tabby cat, orange and striped let out a chirping ‘meow’ before it leaped effortlessly from its perch straight down onto Shouta’s chest.
“Oof.” Shouta resisted the urge to cough as his new feline friend purred and rubbed its – his? – face against the jut of Shouta’s jaw. Given his love for cats, Shouta wouldn’t say it was the worst way to wake up except for two things.
One, Hizashi didn’t own a cat. In fact, he was very, very allergic. Sneezing-for-days-until-his-brain-comes-out allergic.
Two, neither did Shouta. Not because he was allergic, but because his apartment didn’t allow pets.
The gears in his mind turned very slowly thanks to his hangover, so it took him much longer than he would have liked to realize a very embarrassing fact: he was in a stranger’s apartment. This, of course, presented a whole host of other questions. Had he gone home with a stranger? Had he been kidnapped? The possibilities ran rampant through his head, a hamster running endlessly on a wheel to nowhere.
Someone in the room cleared their throat. The cat made a sharp, soft sound as he jumped from Shouta’s chest to the floor and scampered somewhere out of his peripheral. Shouta, however, tried to collect all ten of his remaining brain cells and considered what he was about to face.
He decided to push himself into a sitting position, albeit slowly because pain streaked through his sinuses and resonated through his skull once he was upright. At least he had a better chance of making a mad dash to the door from this position, dead arm aside. When the room stopped spinning he looked out ahead of him and took in the sight of a very tall, very slim, pleasantly angular man sitting in an arm chair.
Angular man watched him with what Shouta determined was a wary look. He had bright blue eyes, shining yellow hair, and in the early morning sunlight Shouta decided he was handsome.
Oh, not the time. Was he still drunk? Damn, his head hurt.
“I like your cat,” he said, voice tight and mouth dry. It felt like at some point he’d been chewing on sand. Alcohol was stupid.
Shouta watched what might have been one of the most fascinating face journeys he’s ever had the chance to witness as Angular Man went through what appeared to be the entire spectrum of human emotion. What Angular Man finally decided on was amusement, if the wonderful, deep laughter that followed the face journey was any indication.
Yeah, he was handsome. Shouta tried to shove that thought into a far-away corner of his brain. Now was not the time to be reminded about just how gay he was.
The stranger in front of him finally collected himself and wiped what looked to be stray tears from the corners of his eyes. “That’s, well, I’m glad I suppose,” Angular Man said and his voice was as nice as his laugh.
Shouta closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m afraid I don’t really know where I am, or what’s going on. I have a suspicion, however, that I broke into your house and slept on your couch. Please tell me that’s not the case.”
Silence stretched between them and Shouta sighed and pried his eyes back open to stare across the room at Angular Man. Angular Man stared right back, eyebrows raised.
“I’m afraid that would be lying,” Angular Man admitted, “as that seems to be the case.”
Good. Excellent. Great. Shouta’s head throbbed from both the shame and the hangover as he weighed his options. He glanced at the door and decided that hangover or not, he could potentially out-run Angular Man if he had to. Maybe. The other man did have very long legs. Nice long legs. Legs that would look awfully nice –
Nope. Can’t do this now, Shouta. Gotta deal with the breaking and entering situation.
“Timothy,” Angular Man said rather suddenly and Shouta wondered for a brief moment if the other man was calling him Timothy.
“What?”
“That’s my cat’s name. One of them, the one you met. I have another, her name is Akiko. She’s shy, though.”
Shouta struggled to come up with a response to that. He supposed it was better than being told to get out. Or, worse, told the police were on their way.
“Timothy,” he finally replied, “how…American.”
Angular Man smiled, small and sweet, and nodded. “My friend Dave, he’s from America. His daughter Melissa named him. She visited when he was a kitten and well, when a little girl tells you the cat’s name is Timothy!” His broad shoulders shrugged in defeat to exaggerate the position he must have been put in.
Timothy. Akiko. Shouta committed the names to memory even though a little voice in the back of his mind told him it was foolish to.
“I’m sorry about, uh, this,” Shouta said after a long moment and motioned to their situation. “I don’t typically break into people’s houses.”
“Typically?” Angular Man sounded curious and amused.
Shouta tilted his head and then shrugged with a smirk. “Sometimes I break into my friend Hizashi’s place.”
“Something wrong with the front door?”
“No, just more fun. Also in case you didn’t realize it, I was really drunk last night and I don’t generally make the best decisions, clearly.”
Angular Man’s delicate eyebrows rose. “I suppose if nothing else, I’ve learned I should start locking my windows at night.”
A window? Shouta glanced back over his shoulder at the glass sliding doors he assumed had been his point of entry. They sat closed while beside them a window without a screen stood partially opened.
“Oh shit.” The words slipped from Shouta’s mouth as he tried to piece together the previous night. He vaguely recalled trying the door to find it locked, and his attempts to pick it resulted in a broken bobby pin that had jabbed into his thumb.
After that he remembered being bitter and indignant and then nothing.
“Rough night, huh?” Angular Man sounded sympathetic. It irked Shouta. Why was he so calm?
“You’re awfully okay with the fact someone broke into your house last night and slept on your couch,” Shouta accused after a moment, suddenly and irrationally annoyed. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling that hit him when he saw Angular Man’s handsome face fall into a grimace.
He eventually shrugged again. “Sometimes we all have rough nights. I’m going to get you some water and Tylenol.” With a nod, Shouta wasn’t sure if it was meant for him, Angular Man stood and disappeared past the couch into the kitchen.
Shouta sat and tried to ignore the gnawing sensation in his gut reminding him that he really was an asshole. He listened to Angular Man in the kitchen and a few minutes later tracked him with a stare as he came around the couch and set a glass of water and two white pills on the coffee table.
“Thanks,” Shouta grumbled as he picked up the pills and swallowed them down with a gulp of water. He felt minimally more human as he chased the gulp with a sudden downing of the rest. Guess he didn’t realize quite how thirsty he was until the water was right in front of him.
“For the water and for not calling the cops,” Shouta continued after a couple beats of silence. “Or whacking me with a baseball bat.”
“There is still time for the later,” Angular Man answered and Shouta’s gaze snapped to his face only to find him smiling.
“Kind and a sense of humor, I guess I broke into the right house.” If he wasn’t mistaken, his comment brought a flush of pink to Angular Man’s sharp cheeks and long nose.
“I’m Yagi Toshinori, by the way,” Angular Man – or, Yagi – said with another small smile as he glanced down at the floor, once again seated primly in the armchair.
Shouta hesitated before he answered, “Aizawa Shouta. If this was a clever way of getting my name for a police report, nice job.”
Yagi chuckled, “I’m not going to call the police, I promise.” He paused and his face fell into a concerned frown, “where does your friend live, though? Were they expecting you? Oh, my, I hope they aren’t worried.”
This man was unbelievable. Shouta should have been booted out of the apartment and left on his ass by now, but his accidental host was more concerned about Hizashi’s worries. Though he did bring up a valid point and Shouta patted his pockets as he tried to find his phone. They were empty. Shouta frowned.
He rummaged through the couch cushions and made a soft victorious noise as he pulled his phone from the depths and unlocked it. As expected, there were about a dozen text messages from Hizashi along with three missed calls and a single message from Nemuri which said ‘hope you got some’.
Shouta snorted in response and scrolled through Hizashi’s messages that ranged from ‘sorry for ditching you’ to ‘no really if you’re dead I’m going to feel really guilty so you should pick up your phone’. Whoops. Shouta slumped back against the couch and sighed before he remembered this was not his space and Yagi still watched him from the armchair.
“Everything alright?” Yagi asked, tone cautious as his fingers tapped a nervous rhythm out on his knee.
“My friends think I’m dead, it is fine. What apartment complex is this?” Shouta asked before Yagi could respond to the first part of what he said.
“Ah, the Cloud City Apartments.”
“Oh thank fuck,” Shouta exhaled, “this is where Hizashi lives, too. At least I wasn’t that far off.”
Yagi hesitated before, “your friends don’t actually think you’re dead, do they? You should call them…”
Shouta offered him a grin that was all teeth. “They’re fine. Hopefully Hizashi’s place is just a couple doors down and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.” Slowly, he rose from the couch and grimaced as various parts of his body crackled and popped.
Getting old sucked. So did sleeping on couches…and drinking. Why was he like this?
When he glanced back over at Yagi he noted the man looked about ready to leap up and catch him if he fell. He entertained the idea of pretending to fall but dismissed it. The poor man had been put through enough as it was, Shouta didn’t need to force him into close proximity. Plus, that was all the hangover brain talking.
He needed to get out of this apartment and to Hizashi before he did anything stupid. Or, anything else stupid, anyway.
Yagi did eventually rise, perhaps concerned by how long it took Shouta to remember how to walk. His mind moved sluggishly and his body followed as he wandered around the room to try and locate his shoes.
“They’re near the window. Under it, actually,” Yagi pointed out helpfully, “Thoughtful of you to leave them near the point of entry.”
Shouta’s ears burned red as he walked over to the window and retrieved his shoes. He took them to the front door where he shoved his feet into them and felt around his pockets. Wallet, check. Phone? Got it. Keys were still in his pocket, which meant he could get back into his own apartment.
At least drunk-Shouta had managed to keep all the essentials on him, even if he failed to break and enter into the correct apartment.
“Thank you again, for the water and Tylenol and patient understanding. If anything I’m glad I broke into your apartment and not someone else’s.” Shouta tried to offer his best smile but he was pretty sure it looked more like a grimace.
“No, no, please, at least you had a safe place to be. Perhaps drink a little less next time? Or make sure you’re not left alone…” Yagi hesitated as he crossed over toward the door and stopped short of stepping into Shouta’s immediate space. “Get to your friend’s place safely, too.”
Shouta nodded, paused, then turned and left out the front door. It clicked into place behind him and he breathed out what must have been his entire soul as he resisted the urge to slump back against the door.
What a fucking mess.
What a fucking handsome guy, though.