He could barely concentrate on the academic textbook cracked open on his table for the next hour, but somehow managed not to fall asleep and even absorbs some of the information before he heard his doorbell ring.
Ignoring the urge to sit quietly until whoever it is left, Shōta sighed and hop-slouched to his door still half-dressed in his sleeping bag to check the peephole to see the face of Aizawa Goro, stooping before the door to frame himself properly for his notoriously reclusive grandson.
Shōta opened the door and greeted him, inviting him in, but he didn’t have time to finish taking off his shoes before his grandfather pulled him into a one-armed hug. He stiffened a moment before relaxing, accepting the affection he knew he needed.
The thought hit him that the last time he was this wound up, it was the night before final graduation exams, with placement tests following the next day. Hizashi had worked himself up into a hyperventilating mess that he texted Shōta dozens of times, who answered each one without fail until he could bleed all of his nervous energy out.
The time before that, when he texted Shōta a complaint that he was wound up and couldn’t sleep, he’d called Hizashi almost immediately thereafter saying, “Me neither.” and they’d talked for another hour and a half. Hizashi woke up six hours later, both of them still on the line, asleep side by side in separate districts.
And before that, he’d teased Shōta about singing him to sleep, but he’d strongly refused. Some prodding and poking, and Hizashi got him to hum a few bars. He commented on Shōta’s voice being “lovely”, which had shut him up entirely. When he tried to apologize for embarrassing him, Shōta thanked him for the compliment.
But at the worst, it was this izakaya was one he and Hizashi had plenty of history in. The past year of their relationship had matured, seen them grow into career men, and so much of their time outside of work was spent there. As their lives grew more complex, it came with an intensifying in confessions, conversations. So often to one another over one of the tables in this same bar, Hizashi would give him another reason to love him.
Still, he wasn’t an idiot, he could see that Iida and Kayama were aware of his mood and he should snap out of it, for their sakes at least … but he couldn’t help but to think about that when the last time he was in this pub, in this bathroom, Hizashi had maybe one whiskey too many and hopped up on the edge of the sink, used his long legs to capture Shōta’s waist, yank him close in for a kiss that dragged from his mouth to his throat, to–
The amazing @blithefool ‘s illustration of my fic, our joint entry for day 3 of #erasermicweek2018 !!!
“You’re sure? That’s really all right with you?” Tsukauchi-san asked.
From his straightforward eye contact Present Mic could tell that the officer was truly concerned for the future of their young relationship.
“Huh?” Present Mic said, pretending his distraction was with the signs on the wall advertising some upcoming musician whose name he already didn’t remember. “Oh, yeah! He’s single now, right?! Bang, bang!!” He shot at Naomasa with a pair of finger guns that may have been a little over the top, but it seemed to placate the rookie officer.
“If you’re certain, then.. I think I might.”
The amazing @blithefool ‘s illustration of my fic, our joint entry for day 2 of #erasermicweek2018 !!!
A Beautiful Monster 