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By high school, Aizawa’s resigned to his fate.
He thinks it’s stupid, actually—this entire system of having a soul mate in general, let alone the system of having the first words they say when first meeting written on each other’s body somewhere. It’s weird and bizarre to him.
But maybe that’s because Aizawa Shouta was born without words anywhere on his body.
He doesn’t ever really remember feeling bad about it. It was just a fact, something that just was, and something he couldn’t change. And with his homelife—well, it was actually pretty easy to come to the conclusion that he didn’t need people, much less a soul mate. By high school, it’s second nature, so much so that sometimes he forgets that other people have the words.
He doesn’t need people. He’s come to the conclusion that he probably can’t love, and he stays away from people. After all, if he secludes himself, other people can’t do it for him, and he’s decided that that’s probably the best course of action that leaves him the least disappointed. That’s what he resigns himself to do on his first day of high school. He’d gotten himself into a prestigious one on scholarships, not that anyone in his family really cared, but it’s a welcomed escape from his home life. After this, he’ll move out for college, and hopefully work in a lab somewhere where he doesn’t have to talk to others. It’s the best case scenario, and when Aizawa enters his homeroom on the first day, dressed in a tight, stuffy uniform that he honestly hates, he makes his way immediately towards the back.
Around him, others are conversing loudly with their peers. If he’s being honest, at least they’re not annoying, and he appreciates that they let him through without any trouble. He sits himself at the desk in the back corner, setting his books down and placing his head on the desk. He’s tired, like always, and he lets his eyes fall shut in an attempt to nurse his chronic dry eye, letting the murmur from the other students surround him.
He drifts off a little, and the next thing he knows, there’s someone gently tapping at his shoulder.
Aizawa gives a groan, and raises his head, realizing he’d fallen asleep waiting for homeroom to start. The lights of the classroom are bright and it can’t be more than five minutes after laying his head down, but his eyes come to a focus on someone who looks even brighter than the lights above him.
He’s smiling down at Aizawa, green eyes behind red-rimmed glasses, long blonde hair pulled back into a low bun, the rest of his hair draping down to mid back. He’s tanned, slightly, and he has a bright, wide smile, and Aizawa immediately fears that he wants to talk and make friends with him. Which is the last thing Aizawa wants.
“What do you…?”
He trails off, because the kid raises a hand, and points to a jewellery-adorned ear, and Aizawa has enough common sense to know that he’s signalling that he can’t hear him. Aizawa falls silent, narrowing his eyes up at him in curiosity. The kid is bright and he looks loud, but from their interaction, Aizawa guesses that he’s actually mute. The kid is tall, definitely a lot taller than still-short Aizawa, and he doesn’t wear the uniform jacket, letting Aizawa see his arms decorated with bracelets and the way his nails are brightly painted.
The kid meets his eyes, still smiling, and then points at the empty seat next to Aizawa. Aizawa gives him a long look, and the kid waits, until what he’s asking dawns on Aizawa.
He shakes his head. Golden boy’s smile widens and he doesn’t hesitate in taking the seat next to Aizawa.
That’s their first meeting.
—
Turns out, deaf kid’s name is Yamada Hizashi and he is, in fact, deaf.
No one seems to care much. Some old lady interprets for him. Yamada keeps to himself for the most part. Aizawa does, too.
Yamada does kind of interest him, though. He’s flashy without being loud, and without speaking, he’ll sometimes shoot small smiles in Aizawa’s direction. He’ll wake Aizawa up for class when he’s fallen asleep or share books with him when Aizawa doesn’t have his. It’s small things that make him interested.
The final straw comes when Aizawa doesn’t bring a lunch to class one day. It’s nothing unusual—his parents have been alright about buying food up until that point, but back in middle school, Aizawa was used to not having a lunch for a week or more at a time. He doesn’t comment on it, burying himself in his textbook, and he doesn’t make a scene about it.
Someone does notice, though. Yamada Hizashi does, because suddenly, he’s shoving half his lunch onto Aizawa’s desk. Aizawa startles, nearly jumping out of his seat, and he whips his head up to look at Yamada. For the first time since meeting him, Yamada doesn’t meet his gaze with a smile, instead giving him a hard look and pointing at the lunch he’s unceremoniously shoved onto Aizawa’s desk. Aizawa isn’t and hasn’t ever been the best at picking up social signals from people, but he knows Yamada is telling him loud and clear that he better not argue with him.
Aizawa looks down at the lunch, at the half bento and the vegetables and rice and fruit, and it honestly looks like more food than he’s eaten all week.
When he meets Yamada’s eyes again, he cracks. Aizawa doesn’t smile much, after having been told for his entire life that his smile is weird and creepy, especially when he shows his teeth, but the fact that Yamada is giving him such a serious look about sharing his lunch with him is suddenly the funniest thing he’s ever seen, and he can’t help the grin that breaks out on his face.
Yamada doesn’t recoil at his expression. Instead, he breaks, too, and grins at Aizawa.
That night, Aizawa looks up community sign language classes. There’s one that works for him, and he can pay for it using the little money he’s saved up from his summer job of stacking books at the library. He signs up for it, justifying that it’s more time out of the house and therefore, it’s more time away from his family.
—
In their second year, Hizashi comes out of his shell and explodes with popularity. Despite having an actual interpreter, he still insists on dragging Aizawa into every situation with him. By now, Aizawa has nearly mastered sign language and oddly enough, he finds it much easier than spoken language. It’s easier for him to talk, even if the only person he really talks to is Hizashi.
He doesn’t complain too much when Hizashi drags him around to talk to people.
He’s not stupid, though. He doesn’t miss the way people try to warn Hizashi. They tell him that Aizawa doesn’t actually like him, that he’s just too lazy to push him off. Aizawa doesn’t exactly know what, but he knows he’s doing something wrong. He clearly isn’t showing that he actually does like Hizashi, not enough for others to tell.
He tries a little harder. He smiles a little more. He tries to talk more often. He stands a little straighter, or at least makes an attempt to, and even tries brushing his hair a couple times in a feeble try to make himself look more normal. Nothing works, though, and Aizawa knows that something somewhere is broken, and he’s not sure that it’s just his lack of a soul mate anymore.
“I’m sorry,” He tells Hizashi one day, after seeing a note by accident, a note from an upperclassmen girl telling Hizashi not to bother with Aizawa anymore. Talking with Hizashi is easier. He finds that he doesn’t have to worry about his tone or his volume and he can just sign his words without having to worry about coming off rude or mean.
They’re at Hizashi’s house, and Hizashi is sitting close to Aizawa, a textbook shared between them. They’re on the balcony outside Hizashi’s room, and Aizawa has taken it upon himself to wrap his enormous, long scarf around the two of them because he knows that Yamada Hizashi is one stubborn idiot who doesn’t like to admit when he’s cold.
“Why?” Hizashi’s hand movements are fluid with practiced ease, and he looks genuinely curious when Aizawa catches his green eyes. He finds that eye contact with Hizashi is easier, too, mostly because he can look at his hands most of the time and because Hizashi doesn’t ever say anything when Aizawa struggles to look at him.
“The other kids—” Aizawa tries to explain. His hands fall, and he taps his fingers on the pages between them as he thinks. He’d always just kind of thought that the reason he’d gotten made fun of in elementary and middle school was because of his lack of a soul mate, but now—no one actually knows about it here, and he’d been careful to keep it a secret, but now that that’s been stripped away from him, he sees that he’s fundamentally different from other people, and that kind of actually sucks. He hadn’t wanted friends, but a friend had wanted him, and now that there’s someone else in his life, he realizes that he wants to keep this person.
“I like you,” He tells Hizashi, slowly signing out his words. “But the others don’t think I do. I want you to know that I do like you. I’m happy we’re friends. Tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
Hizashi studies him, and Aizawa has to glance away from him under his gaze. The world suddenly feels a lot smaller than before, and he feels a little trapped. Hizashi doesn’t force him to sit like that long, though, and his next words come after Aizawa’s nerves start winding themselves together, “Nothing. You’re doing nothing wrong. Don’t pay attention to other kids. I know you like me, Shouta.”
Then, it happens. Hizashi reaches out. Aizawa freezes, body tight, as Hizashi puts his arms around him and pulls him close. He stays like that for a long time, rigid and frozen and staring over Hizashi’s shoulder with wide eyes. Slowly, his nerves start to calm, and he realizes that he’s being hugged, and Hizashi’s warm against him. His arms are loose enough that Aizawa could pull from them easily, but he doesn’t and with his hands shaking, he tries to put his arms around Hizashi, accidentally grabbing at Hizashi’s shoulders tightly with his fingers.
Hizashi doesn’t say anything, and Aizawa lets his eyes fall shut.
—
After that, Hizashi hugs Aizawa quite a bit, and Aizawa starts learning to reciprocate. He likes affection. He stops worrying as much about what everyone else says to Hizashi about him. Hizashi doesn’t care, and that’s more than enough for him.
Towards the middle of their second year, Kayama Nemuri transfers to their class, and Aizawa starts finding that he’s some sort of extrovert magnet, because god, Nemuri and Hizashi are a menace together. The three of them are inseparable, though, even if Aizawa acts unwilling most of the time.
—
It’s near graduation that Aizawa finally decides to tell Hizashi.
He’s spending the night at his house, and the two of them are laying on the futon in Hizashi’s room together, a blanket shared between the two of them. Hizashi is turned towards him on his side, eyes closed, though Aizawa knows he’s not asleep yet. Aizawa’s laying on his back, hands folded over his stomach, staring at the ceiling, though he sometimes glances over at Hizashi.
It’s mostly a whim when he decides to reach out and tap Hizashi’s shoulder, just like Hizashi had done to him that first day they’d met. Hizashi opens his green eyes, and Aizawa doesn’t let himself hesitate.
“I don’t have a soul mate.”
He isn’t completely sure Hizashi understands, but he signs that and only that, not elaborating, holding his breath as he sits up on the futon. He’s been thinking about this for awhile, and he’s realized that he needs to tell Hizashi because—
Because a lot of reasons. Because Aizawa doesn’t like hiding things. Because Aizawa still feels broken a lot of the time. Because he feels like he owes it to Hizashi. Because he thinks he’s fallen in love with Hizashi and he needs to push him away before Hizashi can do it himself.
There’s not even a look of surprise on Hizashi’s face. The other yawns, and his lips twitch upwards into a small smile, and Aizawa can’t stop himself from liking the way Hizashi’s hair falls over his face and the way his smile feels private and reserved. He wants to reach out and touch his hair and run his hands through it, if only to calm himself, but he holds back.
Hizashi rolls himself a little further towards his back so he can sign, and Aizawa feels choked for air as he tries to process what Hizashi’s telling him.
“I don’t, either. The entire thing’s kinda dumb, isn’t it?”
Aizawa can’t breathe.
He’s never seen any words on Hizashi, but he’s always just assumed that they were written someplace that didn’t get exposed often. He’s never met anyone else like him, and he almost can’t believe it.
“You really don’t?”
“Nope,” Hizashi signs back. “I don’t care about that kind of stuff. Shouta, if you like someone, I don’t think the soul mate bullshit should matter. Just because there’s no weird words on your body doesn’t mean there’s not someone out there for you. I think if you like someone, forget about all the soul mate stuff.”
There’s a pause, a beat between them where neither says anything.
Aizawa takes it literally. He doesn’t recognize until it’s too late that Hizashi is just giving general advice and not giving him permission. He takes it literally, and he breathes out, moving so that he’s leaning over Hizashi, dark hair falling down his face, his hands on either side of Hizashi’s head.
He takes a breath and leans down, closing his eyes, and he brushes against Hizashi’s soft lips.
It hits him then that Hizashi hadn’t been telling him to do this, but the thought is lost the moment Hizashi wraps his arms around Aizawa’s neck and pulls him into him, kissing him with every bit of feeling as Aizawa has.
—
It takes until he’s thirty for Aizawa to learn that he’s not actually broken.
It’s a mix-up that gets him there. Aizawa has always hated doctors, but the only thing he hates more than going to the doctor is seeing a new doctor. Unfortunately, though, the university he teaches and does research at requires a physical every year, and Aizawa’s doctor moved to the other end of the country, forcing him to find a new one. Or more, it forced him to ask Hizashi to find him a new doctor and help him set up the appointment, because Aizawa also hates making appointments and having to find more people.
Now he’s here, and he’s hated every moment of it, even if the old lady who he supposes is his new doctor is respectful of him. He still acts like the grump he usually is, answering her questions and going through the motions of the physical, if only because Hizashi promised that he’d take him to his favorite cat cafe if he got through this.
The old lady doesn’t seem to notice Aizawa’s scowling and unhappiness, but she does move along fairly quick. There’s some questions about the scarring on Aizawa’s body that he has to explain—one of the many reasons he hates seeing new doctors—and she doesn’t pry much about his past when it becomes apparent that that’s where the scarring is from.
Then come the questions about Hizashi. Together for twelve years, married for six. He can recite off everything, since it’s become a script by now. He knows that they’re approaching the question that he hates with a passion, the question that always garners some raised eyebrows.
“Is Yamada-san your soul mate?”
Aizawa’s sitting on the examination table, frowning at the little old lady taking notes on him. He hates this, being looked at and scrutinized, and the lights of the office are too bright and the nurses talk a little too loud for his liking. He really just wants to get out of here as soon as possible.
“No, neither of us have soul mates.”
She doesn’t react, and Aizawa raises an eyebrow at her, “How can you be so sure, Aizawa-san?”
That’s a question he’s never heard before, but it’s just as annoying as every other question he gets about this subject.
“Because neither of us have anything on our bodies,” He pulls his scarf up a little, so he can distract himself from wanting to express his utter irritation at her. “Aren’t you a doctor? You saw my body. There’s nothing there.”
The bulk of the physical is already over, and Aizawa took the first chance to pull his clothes, including his heavy sweater and scarf, back on, but she’d undoubtedly seen what his body looks like, and the lack of any words written on him.
She taps her pen on the chart she’s taking notes on.
“Aizawa-san, didn’t you mention that your partner is deaf?” She asks him. “He doesn’t speak, does he?”
“No. What’s your point?”
He’s rarely ever heard Hizashi vocalize. As long as he’s known Hizashi, Hizashi has made the choice to be completely mute. Aizawa’s fine with that. He prefers signing over speaking, anyways, and most of his colleagues at the university have even picked up a lot of sign language from him due to Aizawa’s tendency to sign when he talks or to switch only to sign when he’s stressed out.
The old lady gives him a smile, “Most people don’t know this, but if your soul mate is unable to hear you at your first meeting, they won’t have anything on their bodies. This odd system of fate doesn’t account for sign language or deafness and similar disabilities, unfortunately. And if he didn’t say anything to you, well, I’m sure you can figure that out on your own, Aizawa-san. Moving on…”
Aizawa doesn’t move on, though.
He stares, his dark eyes huge. It suddenly makes sense. Too much sense. It’s so goddamn simple.
One thing comes out of his mouth.
“Are you serious?!”