Yamada was a loud blonde. A himbo.
And, he would admit. Never in three hundred – fifty – five – million – trillion years, did Hizash-f******-Yamada think, he would be at his best friend since high school door with 5—6.. 4? Words in mind.
He knocked, his hair wet from the rain and shower he took. He got the thought and could not ignore it. He was going to marry this man. What did the sleep deprived f*** do? Nothing. Hizashi’s mind just refused to rest.
Hizashi had actually been doing good.. He has not rambled to Nemuri about the gorgeous man that was their friend in months. wine induced or sober. He was simply trying to suppress the thoughts, or flat out f****** ignore them.
———
It was about high school. 1st year, entrance exam. He set his green eyes on a stormy black sky. He was star struck, clear of thoughts, stumbling backwards into a blue haired man. Oboro. The light headed smile he gave with apology. Just receiving a generous back pat.
It was only him and Oboro till Aizawa got roped in by the cloudy guy. He could not help but feel his heart swell at every reaction the man gave. Oboro was all to kind to let Hizashi rant
Even after Oboro was gone, Hizashi would talk to “Oboro” at his grave. And of course.. Aizawa was there.. He was alway there even through his own grief.
———
Hizashi..
Hizashi..?
“Hizashi!” A voice barked, he looked at Aizawa’s eyes “hi..” Hizashi squeezed out through his dry throat. Is he shaking? Aizawa is there, barely neat, a cat in arms. Hizashi squeezed his eyes shut quickly and tried to clear his brain.
Tbc~