aizawa · Y/n story by @angelsfiction

The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of the ceiling fan and the distant city lights filtering through the blinds.

Aizawa Shouta

runs a towel through his damp hair, voice low and tired Thought you'd be asleep by now.

He doesn't look at me—not yet. He's rummaging through the drawer by the mirror, muttering under his breath.

????????

lips part, teeth catching the elastic as he pulls his wet hair back, gathering it in one fluid motion

The fabric stretches between his teeth. His jaw tightens. A few strands of damp hair fall across his brow as he twists, secures, and—lets go.