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His Sun

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The meeting between the two of you is an accident.

Amajiki Tamaki doesn’t believe in lucky chances or fated gifts from the heavens above--it’s an accident and nothing more.

He’s the kind of guy that deserves accidents after all, not good things.

“I’m... pretty sure I was supposed to bring these papers over here.”

Your eyes are trained simply on him. There’s no irritation to your face, no annoyance or scowling or getting fed up with the fact that he can’t even seem to stutter out enough words for you to go on with your errands and the rest of your day. You’re probably insanely busy-no one gives the senior support class enough credit. He knows how hard you work. You were the one who came up with the template for Mirio’s hair-threaded costume after all--you’re constantly busy and now he’s just wasting your time standing here because he can’t speak because-

Stop. Stop. Stop thinking. You’re making a fool of yourself. You’re an idiot-stop wasting her time!

She’s not here for you.

But the towering doors U.A boasts are propped open. The long, gliding windows behind you allow a bit of that afternoon glow to come streaming through. It curves fondly around your head in the softest of halos and suddenly he sees the sun and he sees you and-

You. You’re a good thing.

Amajiki Tamaki doesn’t deserve good things.

Just get out of her way.

“Y-Y-You must be looking f-for Mirio,” Amajiki manages to say. He doesn’t catch the frown that twists on your lips or the curious look in your eyes because he bows his head so he doesn’t have to see the sun anymore. “He… He went to the faculty…. Office. I-I’m sure he’ll be back soon-”

“Don’t need him,” you say simply. Amajiki freezes for a moment but before he can stutter out anything else, papers are being shoved into his arms and his hands shoot up on reflex to hug them tight to his chest.

His fingers scramble for a second but then the papers are secure. There’s an almost gentleness in the way your hands hover briefly over his to make sure he’s got the papers before you pull away and hang them at your sides. Your face is even. “These are for you. I saw you tear through the gloves my friend made during a simulation trial. I need some ideas and descriptions from you… But I think I might have something good in mind.”

Amajiki’s heart almost ceases.

You needed to talk to him? You–

“You’re just causing her trouble.”

“S-Sorry,” Amajiki starts. “I’m sorry… I… I ruined your friend’s hard work-”

“It means we need to work harder, ” you say, cutting him off and leaving no room for anything else. Your hand raises at your side for a moment before you drop it and turn on your heel. “If you have any requests specifically or things I should know, come talk to me. It makes my job easier.”

You turn over your shoulder and then he sees the sun again, shining and curving around the edges of your face and your eyes meet his and refuse to let him go.

“Okay?”

Amajiki isn’t sure if he’s answered you or not. He isn’t sure if his lips managed to move because for a moment, all he could think hopelessly and helplessly like he’s still been thinking these past two years is--

Y-You’re like the sun.

But whatever he managed to say or not say, something on his face makes you smile. A small curve of your lips, a little glitter in your eyes and then you’re walking away from him and sun follows you all the way down the hall.


 

(Y/n) (L/n).

(Y/n). He’s heard people talk before about the rowdy, thorny, hard-to-approach support student in his year who manages to make genius work despite everything. You don’t get along very well with all your classmates, but your work comes out phenomenal and many credit it to the fact that you must be one in a dozen of geniuses who keep to themselves.

The first time he met you was looking for Mirio.

Nejire was the one who came equipped with all the information since she was curious about the students assigned to their designs, a project all second year support students took on. She’d heard great things about your work and said her friends told her you were a recluse genius with nothing much else to give. You were apparently the student assigned to Mirio’s design and some heated debates in your department had left you with a student not many thought had immense potential, but he was growing.

You seemed to have seen that.

Amajiki had been wary about stepping into the workshop. He figured support students would be rushing back and forth, hard at work and he’d just get in the way and cause trouble for everyone. I should just go back and wait in the classroom. But their teacher had asked him specifically to bring his childhood friend back, and well--

Just in and out. Amajiki repeats. Just in and out. Mirio should be in here and then you can go home.

But there’s only you.

No other student occupies the room. Windows are propped open so any stray wisps of smoke from forges or haywire experiments can air out. A bit of golden light bathes everything in a warm, shining glow. Metal catches, the room lights up, and Amajiki would’ve taken a moment to admire it all had his eyes not landed on you.

The sun catches off your hair.

You glow.

Your face is tucked into the curve of your arm. There’s a little oil smear on the corner of your cheek and the smallest crease of your brow where you might’ve been having some strange kind of dream, perhaps. The small draft creeping from the window tugs at stray ends of your hair not held back by a hair tie. There’s a small hairclip holding bits back and he flushes at the little butterfly design.

Tools are strewn out lazily before you. Threaded nylons and pieces of fabrics woven together. His eyes catch on the color and then it suddenly dawns on him that the mountains of crushed papers and stretched out designs are all for his friend--for Mirio.

“I heard she’s a little mean but she means well!” Nejire’s voice sings in his head. “Her work is amazing for a genius!”

And then Amajiki suddenly understands in a way perhaps no one had attempted to about you--about someone he hardly knew and just met because--

They think you’re a genius but they’re wrong.

He thinks about Mirio’s determined face and his bright, shining laugh as he smiles and charges forward.

You’re just like him.

You’re just a hard worker.

Amajiki can’t help but think there’s something painfully bright and hopelessly beautiful about that.

“Hey,” the soft murmur of a voice he’d never heard before cuts into the room. He flinches, head swinging up and eyes finally setting on your face again where your eyes have peeked open a bit and you’re watching him through those swirling, glittering irises clouded with a bit of sleep. “Oh… wow…”

Something seems to clear in your eyes a bit. Your head begins to rise but Amajiki’s already berating himself for standing there like some kind of creep watching you and he hasn’t even found Mirio yet--

“S-Sorry!” He exclaims, cheeks flushing a dark, cherry red and he backpedals out of the work room before you can say anything else.

He slams the door shut behind him. Amajiki presses a hand to his face, hurriedly walking down the hallway and feeling a familiar click clack and his eyes drop down to his feet where chicken feet have sprouted because of his Quirk and he tries to swallow the flood of red to his cheeks and face because--

Amajiki Tamaki doesn’t deserve beautiful things.

You were as beautiful as the sun.


So why are you even standing here?

Amajiki isn’t sure why he’s suddenly standing right before the door to the support course workshop where he knows you’ll be.

The papers you’d given to him sit in his hands, a bit creased at the sides from how tightly he was holding onto them. His arms tremble and it takes all of his willpower not to suddenly grown limbs that aren’t his or scurry off with the clack of chicken talons against the floor.

He places one hand on the doorknob and tenses.

“M-Mirio… c-c-can you hand these in… for me?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little silly?” Mirio had laughed, patting him on the back before he shook him by his shoulders and beamed. “She asked you to fill them out!”

“I did--”

“And bring them back to her, right?”

“Hey, hey, Amajiki-kun, isn’t this a great chance?” Nejire had bounded over to them, beaming brightly as she fluttered around them and Amajiki had looked at her in horrified confusion. “You’re always looking at her, aren’t you? It’s a chance to finally talk!”

“B-But I don’t--”

“And she’s always watching you anyways! You outta ask her what that’s all about!”

A bit of sweat dribbles down the side of his face. Amajiki swallows, staring hard at the doorknob and imagining that perhaps it could transform into something less intimidating--a potato perhaps? No, that wouldn’t make any sense.

“Why are you here?”

H-He wanted… He wanted…. If maybe just a bit…

Just hand her the papers and stop bothering her. He feels a weight land heavy on his chest. His shoulders sink and he presses his forehead to the door with a sigh as he shuts his eyes. Hand her the papers. Thank her and go. You’ve caused enough trouble…

Amajiki Tamaki is nothing but a flea-hearted coward. He’s a chicken. A useless, hopeless fool who’s somehow made it this far on the way to being a hero. He has to keep trying because it’s what he wants to do no matter what. He wants to be a hero because he knows somehow if there’s even a sliver of chance for him, he’s got to take it so…

“I mean, what do you think when you see her?” Mirio questioned, slurping loudly on his yogurt drink while Nejire was off playing with some of the fallen flower petals nearby they bench they took residence at.

“Well…” Amajiki had played with the carton in his hands, tugging at the flaps and he bowed his head. “I…”

“What was that?”

“...the--”

He thinks about the way Mirio had laughed so heartily and beamed at him.

“Well, what’s your name?”

Amajiki holds his breath and tugs the door open with as much force as he can because he knows if it even closes an inch, he’ll run.

No you won’t.

“...hey,” your soft voice floats to his ears and it’s sweet and has the faintest hints of happy surprise. He stands there, stuck in the middle of the doorway because he can’t help himself from staring at your figure outlined in front of the open window as you turn your head to see who’d arrived.

You’re glowing.

There’s a small breeze playing with the ends of your hair. A few flower petals have scattered along workbenches and tabletops, coloring the hardened pieces of metal and dotting stretched out blueprints. There’s a patchwork of intricate designs sitting before you, and for a moment he sees sketches of himself and his face and his eyes, shining, dark and almost… almost powerful.

But it’s the afternoon. The sun is beginning to retreat to the other side of the world and everything is colored in a molten bath of airy gold. It sinks past the horizon and it manages to catch the ends of your hair and the curves of your face and illuminate your entire being. You’re standing there in the wake of the sun’s setting farewell and he can’t help but think you look like the sun all in one--the rise, the set, the cycle, over and over again and he’s--

Blinded.

“You came,” a smile touches your lips. “I thought for a second I’d have to find you again and…”

Something like realization flickers across your face and your eyes drop down to your sketches.

One hand quickly slaps the top. Your cheeks dust a soft pink and Amajiki feels something tug pitifully in his heart as you gather it all together as quickly as you can. “S-Sorry about these. They’re just, um… reference! I got a little stumped on how I can pattern the design in a practical but nice and cool kind of way because, well, you’re a cool guy, you know?”

Amajiki feels as though he’s suddenly sunk ten feet through the floor. Your face is a mess and you’re pressing the ends of your work to hide the lower half from him. He sees your eyes peek at him from above the papers and he’s still trying to register the fact that you’d spend all this time on him and draw him and even go so far as to call him cool ? You, always collected, always watching him with those quiet eyes suddenly stumbling over yourself and--

His heart lunges for his throat and his lips part.

Speak.

“Sorry,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “I… I get a little carried away sometimes. It rubs off on my kouhais… I’ll just… I’ll take the papers and I’ll get on it, okay? I know you’re not the most talkative of guys and I don’t want to scare you off or anything but…”

You bite your lip. Your eyes flicker back up to him and you smile, shy almost, eyes warm. “I’m glad you came this far.”

You’re such a coward.

Amajiki Tamaki’s used to watching things slip past his grip. He’s used to holding his tongue and missing the chance to say something he’d wanted to say.

He doesn’t want you to be one of those things.

You’re like the sun !”

You’re frozen in place and the sun twists around your head in a halo. Amajiki’s heart leaps for his mouth and he sputters out, head bowed and hands grabbing each other in a nervous tangle of fingers. “I-I’ve always thought that. S-S-Since I saw you…”

Mortification suddenly pierces his being. His tangled fingers fly to his mouth and he presses his lips shut. His entire face is aflame and he wishes he could melt through the floor because-- what are you saying? That’s such a strange thing to say--now she’ll think you’re strange and she won’t--

Your laugh is warm.

It touches his skin and sets him ablaze. It curls around his ears and his eyes travel back upwards, transfixed. You can’t help yourself, arms clenched around your stomach and tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you laugh and laugh and smile and then you manage to stare at him through the glitter of mirth.

“Is that supposed to be a pick up line?” You prod gently and Amajiki’s frozen to the floor and ready to become a mess of tentacles and feathers and shells until you beam, eyes shining as you grin and the sun smiles at him as though he’s the only thing to possibly exist.

“Mr. Suneater?


 

“I was starting to give up hope to be honest,” you admit with a small smile, tracing absent patterns against his chest. “Back then, I thought shit, I don’t stand a chance with this guy, do I? Everytime I wanted to say something to you, you were gone and I was starting to think you didn’t want to talk to me.”

“No,” Tamaki says pitifully above you. He presses his face into the crown of your hair. He inhales, nuzzling into your scent and into your warmth and his tentative, gentle grip on you hip and lower back shift a little tighter, pull you a little closer. “ I was the idiot… I still am… aren’t I?”

“Nah,” your legs are tangled up with his. The sheets around the two of you pool together in dips and creases around your bodies. There’s a bit of sunlight streaming into your shared room. It turns everything a soft, shining shade and makes your word twinkle. There’s a little sunroof installed above your bed so the two of you can see the light peeking over and into the sky.  “You’re still exactly what I thought you were when I first saw you back in high school.”

There’s heavy hours on the way for his demanding shifts. Suneater is a hero high up in the ranks and he is a force of grace and power and kindness streaking through the world like the beginnings of dawn. Your eagerly demanded support objects and recent projects call for you at every chance, but just like this at least--it’s just two.

Tamaki makes a small noise of curiosity above you. He pulls from burying his face in your hair to leaning back a bit so he can peek at your face. Your neck and shoulders are littered in butterfly kisses and small, loving marks and he blushes a bit as he traces them with a gentle finger and then tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “What…. What was that?”

He winces, "A c-coward, huh?"

You smile. Your fingers leave his chest and they rise to cup his face in your hands. Tamaki’s eyes are warm, they swallow you whole and remind you that your shine comes from this man before you--that you’ll never gleam and burn as brightly as you do right here in this moment, right beside him. He leans into your touch and presses a small kiss to your wrist, watching with those loving eyes and your smile widens so far across your face it almost hurts as much as the swelling in your chest.

“Beautiful.”

“Oh… wow…

You’re beautiful.”