Chapter Text
Pro Hero Eraserhead. The stern, quiet, put together underground hero that was now crying in the bathroom of his apartment. That's him. He thinks. He looked around. He saw the spider in the corner of the bathroom roof that he was afraid to stand near, in case it decided to jump on him and crawl in his ear and lay eggs. The vivid thought of hundreds of spiders crawling out of his ears made him nauseous. He looked at the dirt in the cracks and corners of the walls, the dust all over the floor and the shelves.
He breathed in and smelled the long-known scent of mouse poop. He always said he was going to clean out that cabinet, but he never does. He looked at his shower, which he hasn't used in almost a week. He gets too caught up in his work and just uses dry shampoo. The shower has mold growing from it, but that's fine. The water still works when he needs it to.
He looked at his legs, now covered in dark red cuts and bruises. He remembers when they used to pass as cat scratches, but now it's getting to the point where he has to stitch some of them up himself. He knows it's dangerous, but at this point it's all he deserves. He looked at his arm and his torso, which are too covered in cuts and bruises. The black and blue of the bruises after punching himself so hard he cried. He liked the look of them on him. Because he knew he deserved it.
He always tried to get better, to not hurt himself. But after what happened to Nemuri, seeing her body and realizing she was dead, he couldn't help it. It used to be every other month, then every month, every week, twice a week, every day, and now he can't go more than a couple hours without hurting himself in some way. Without it he just feels empty, but at the same time he feels like a titanic submersible ready to burst. Hurting himself relieves the pressure and lets him keep going.
He knows he should talk to someone, like Hizashi. They haven't talked in a while, especially after what happened to Nemuri. He doesn't want to let him know how bad it's been. Oh god how bad it's been. Even Endeavor has been worried (or as much as he can be). He's heard his students talk about him in the other room, and they seem scared. Aizawa wishes he could be that scared for himself. But everything has become stagnant.
At one point he snapped out of his thoughts and reached for his phone. 1:28 a.m. Great. There goes another night of sleep, though it's not like he would take it anyway. He finally decided to get up from his spot in the corner. He needed to grade some papers. He looked at someone in the mirror. Himself. Didn't look like him. Greasy hair, bruised head, darker than normal eye bags, and his body looking like it was thrown in a paper shredder. He couldn't stand to look at himself. Not that he cared how he looked, but more like he didn't feel like he was looking at himself, and that was weird.
He put on his clothes and went out of the bathroom to his small apartment. Laundry in a pile by the couch, dishes stacked up with the specific smell of bacteria growing, and an empty cat bed. It's been three months since Tofu passed away, and he can't seem to get over her. Not that he wants to. He felt tears start to form in his eyes, so he went to the kitchen to get some food. He drew the curtains on the small shelf of a pantry and noticed that he was running low on food. Just need to get some more, he thought.
Don't eat.
The thought planted itself in his mind like a tick and didn't go away. He thought about it for a second. He wasn't too hungry, and he could just eat in the morning. Plus, it would save food. He decided to just get a glass of water and leave to the living room. He set the glass down on the coffee table and laid on the couch for what seemed like forever but was only of minute. He sat up and opened his folder of student work he needed to grade. This would be a long night, he thought.
Time skip of like three hours.
Aizawa almost finished grading papers. He was on the last student's essay. They did pretty well, not too bad, but not that good either. At one point it caught his attention. It was a small paragraph at the end of his essay.
"Are you okay? We've been worried about you. If you need anything I'll try to help you with it. :) "
It caught him off guard. Whose essay was this? He flipped to the front page expecting to find MIdoria or Kirishima, but instead found the name Denki Kaminari. He didn't know what to think. He wanted to tell him that he was alright, but even he can't lie about this. But at the same time, he wants to give him something. He finished grading his paper and found his own piece of paper to write on. He didn't really know how to start. What would he write? He didn't want it to be too sad, but he didn't want it to be a lie either. Because while all of the other students think of Kaminari as a stupid kid, he is very emotionally intelligent. He decided to just start writing, he could always try again.
"I haven't been the best as you could tell, but I do appreciate your concern. Like all of us are, I am dealing with the death of Midnight. She was a close friend of mine and while it is sad to say, I have had this happen before. If there was anything you could do for me, it would be to take care of yourself. You're an important member of this class and while others might not realize it, you are very smart. If you ever want to talk about what happened, I'm open."
That felt right to him. Maybe bringing up Oboro wasn't the best idea though. He doesn't really want to talk about him, but there's is a part of him that desperately does. And at this point he was begging for any type of change. He slid it next to Kaminari's work and closed the folder back up. He reached for his phone. 4:38 a.m. and three messages from Hizashi.
That's the last time you'll ever talk to him again and you left him ignored. He's killed himself.
What? He body paused for a moment before panic rushed through him as he quickly checked the messages.
11:28 p.m. - How are you, Shou?
11:52 p.m. - I've been worried about you. Please talk to me tomorrow.
3:31 a.m. - Please get some sleep Shouta. I'm worried. We don't talk as much. I want you to be okay. Please.
Well, he's a piece of shit. Can't even respond to the only friend he's got left. At least he's alive. He hopes that his bad habits aren't rubbing off onto him. He really cares about Hizashi. Maybe he should take a shower. For Hizashi he thought. And then that means he doesn't have to eat dinner tonight. It's a fair deal.
Wait what? Did he really just think that doing something bad to himself is a reward for doing something good? At this point he didn't want to think about it. He went to his room and grabbed some clean clothes and went back to the bathroom. Despite the fact the there was his dried blood on the floor, he felt better now. He turned on the water and undressed. Maybe he didn't have to hurt himself. He felt a lot better, actually. Like everything went away. All his problems, his grief, his worries, and his stress disappeared as he stepped into the shower. He made sure to double shampoo and condition his hair. He washed his face. The shower lasted 10 minutes but it was the most heavenly shower he ever experienced.
After the shower he changed and decided to go to sleep. He flopped on his bed and felt great. He felt like he could beat what happened. Like this time was different and he won't get worse.