#some sweet aizawa content for the erasercloud crowd

[kumogiri]

Thoughts and Words

Erasercloud drabble from a giveaway I did on my twitter!

Shōta was increasingly sure that the text conversations he had with Oboro were the absolute worst example of the texting art form since its creation.

Oboro would send him an elaborate, multi-part message with random words replaced with emoji he claimed made sense, while Shōta had to figure out if “👁️😍😻 lol” meant Oboro had seen a cute cat, seen someone who looked like a cat (with a very strange eye condition), or if he’d made eye contact with a cat, fallen instantly in love, and was now suggesting they break up so he could run away with his feline lover.

Anxiety liked to add weird addendums like that. It was fine.

In return, what Oboro got from Shōta was one word, or even more excitingly sometimes two words, which were almost always, oh, yes, no, maybe, or variations thereof. It must have been awful writing enough words to max out the character count Shōta hadn’t even known existed multiple times only to get a sure in return. He just didn’t have much to say, or nothing he felt could be summed up in a text, and the idea of breaking out the emoji to add colour to his texts made Shōta’s face pull into what he was sure Oboro would describe with an 😑.

Just write whatever you’re thinking, Hizashi had suggested, but ah. That was- well.

The thoughts in his head whenever Oboro texted him weren’t the sort he could just type out so brazenly. I have no idea what those emoji mean so I’m imagining you found a dog on the moon and it made me laugh, do you think you could even float that high? I’m still thinking about the picture you sent me a week ago, I see it every time I close my eyes and I still have no idea what it actually is. I can see your unfinished homework in the background of the photo you sent me and now I can’t focus on anything else because you need to do that homework maybe I should come over there and make you do it.

He couldn’t just write that. He couldn’t write, I heard my phone buzz and ran over, how do you always know when I’m having a bad day. Your messages make me smile. I love the way you type, I love that I can hear it in your voice. I love that nobody else I know writes like you do, and I don’t think you write like this to anybody else.

He couldn’t write I love that you always send me pictures of your shoes to show me you’ve got out somewhere, I love that you call them adventures. I love that you always text me good morning and good night, even if you always get the times wrong. I love that you send me multiple selfies and get me to pick the one everyone else gets to see, and that I’m the only one who gets to see them all.

So Oboro sent him an essay, some photos, too many emoji to translate. Shōta thought, I love this, and I wish you knew how much it means to me that you still write me all these words and send me all these thoughts, that you tell me all these secrets and are so patient when I can’t put anything into words to reply.

He thought that all, and laughed, and smiled.

And he typed back, yeah.