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He feels awful. Everything is wrong. When he awoke this morning, everything felt out of synch. And as the day has progressed, he has just started to feel worse and worse. His head hurts, a dull throbbing ache behind his eyes, and everything is too bright and loud, his normally comfortable clothes feeling like hell against his oversensitive skin.
Ever since he awoke, all Hizashi has wanted is to go back to bed and sleep until he feels better. But that is easier said than done; he is a teacher, a radio host and a pro Hero, so Hizashi can’t just have the day off because he feels a bit weird. He has to persevere.
But it is getting harder. As he teaches English to Class 1-A, Hizashi’s movements are sluggish and his words much quieter, his overwhelmed brain struggling to process everything properly. He stims by moving his fingers around the stim toy Shouta bought him, but he can’t focus.
Everything is so hard. He just wants to curl up and have a meltdown and cuddle up with Shouta until he finally feels like himself again. Shit, he’s pathetic; a pro Hero reduced to fighting back a meltdown in front of his students. This is why they always said an autistic person could never be a Hero, because ‘who would want a hero who freaks out over nothing?’ and ‘you’re pathetic, Hizashi. Retards like you aren’t good enough to be heroes. You’re worthless. So stop dreaming.’ And young Hizashi had cried, hating them stamping on his dream.
Oh great, now he’s crying. Tears are actually running down his face in front of the class, and at least one of them has noticed.
“Sensei?” Uraraka says. “Are you okay?”
Hizashi forces himself to smile, nodding has his fingers slip behind his sunglasses to wipe his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Go back to your work.”
The girl doesn’t look convinced, but she goes back to looking down at her desk. Hizashi turns and sits at his desk at the front of the room. Still trembling, he bounces his legs up and down, desperately trying to focus. He wants – needs – to be alone right now. When is this lesson going to end?
When is this school day going to end?
He just wants to go home.
---
He has always hated commuting to work (it is so loud and cramped and painfully boring) but at least he has Shouta with him. Well, most of the time. Because Shouta stays behind every Wednesday to supervise detention for the first year students (Hizashi takes every other Friday, due to having his radio show to do as well as teaching and Hero work), so Hizashi travels alone on Wednesday afternoons.
And out of sheer bad luck, today, a day when he feels dreadful, happens to be a Wednesday. He just wants his husband by his side. But he is alone, alone in fighting off a meltdown. So Hizashi has to cope alone, ignoring everyone, listening to music through his headphones to block out the noise and frantically manipulating his stim toy.
The train ride seems to last forever, but finally it arrives at his station and Hizashi bolts off of the train. He runs back home on unsteady legs and bursts into the apartment. The moment the door slams behind him, Hizashi falls apart.
Dropping to the floor, all of his emotions seem to explode out of him all at once. Tears spill down his face, heaving sobs wracking his body. He rocks back and forth, trying to soothe himself, but nothing seems to be working. His clothes burn his skin and Hizashi scrabbles to remove them, yanking off his Hero costume until all he wears is his underpants and his headphones. He sobs and rocks and shivers from being naked in an apartment without the heating on. None of this is enough. He still hurts.
The throbbing in his head has been there all day, and is even worse now. When he fell into the meltdown, it became a pounding sensation, and it is now as though a pneumatic drill tears apart his brains inside his skull. Hizashi grits his teeth, desperately trying to keep from screaming lest he shatter the light bulbs and injure the neighbours. And so he does the only thing he can think of right now to stop the pounding in his brain: he clenches a shaking fist and slams is hand against his forehead. Pain explodes through his head and he cries out.
Hizashi curls up in a ball and rocks, his head throbbing, his heart pounding and tears seeping down his cheeks. He sobs and bangs his head hard against the floor, and then again, harder this time. And Hizashi groans as he melts down, wishing Shouta was here.
---
Exhausted from dealing with the students in detention, Shouta struggles to stay awake on his train journey home. And he muffles a yawn as he opens the door to his and Hizashi’s apartment. Opening his eyes, they widen as he surveys the scene before him.
Hizashi is slumped on the floor, wearing nothing but his underpants and headphones (the bulky ones that are part of his Hero costume in that they protect his ears from his own Quirk, but also make good noise cancelling headphones for when he feels overwhelmed). He appears to be asleep, drying tears shining on his face. Red marks cover his forehead, already starting to bruise. He just looks so awful… but in an awfully familiar way. Shouta sighs; Hizashi has obviously had a meltdown.
His husband is autistic, and so is prone to going into sensory overload, in which his senses are hypersensitive and seem to hurt him. And if he doesn’t get a chance to calm himself down, Hizashi will spiral into a meltdown. The meltdowns are horrible, with Hizashi crying and screaming and self harming. They last for almost ten minutes, by which time Hizashi is so exhausted that he falls asleep.
Slowly, Shouta crouches down beside his husband and whispers, “Hizashi?”
And Hizashi’s eyelids flicker and he stares up at him through half-closed eyes. “Shouta?”
“How are you feeling?” he asks, resting a hand on his husband’s bare shoulder.
“I’ve been better,” Hizashi says, forcing a laugh. His voice is so quiet and slightly hoarse from crying. “But seriously, pretty shit, but much better after the meltdown.”
“Would you like me to help you up?” Shouta says, hating to see Hizashi sprawled on the floor like this.
Hizashi nods, only to wince; he probably has a concussion. “Um… yeah. That’d be good.”
So Shouta offers Hizashi a hand, he grasps it, and they both use a lot of energy in getting him onto his feet. Once standing, Hizashi wobbles and Shouta grabs his arm.
“Careful.”
“Honestly, where would I be without you, Shou?” Hizashi says. “Dead, probably.”
He isn’t quite sure to what Hizashi is referring. It might be how he felt suicidal as a teen for all the abuse he endured as a child, or how he could he vulnerable to attacks from villains if he went into sensory overload in battle, or that he is just accident prone and Shouta is always picking up the pieces. But whatever he means, it is still horrible to hear Hizashi so casually discussing his own death.
So he grabs Hizashi’s other arm and says, “Don’t talk like that.”
The awkward and clearly forced smile slips from Hizashi’s face. “Sorry. But you really are so caring and you put up with me even though I’m annoying and disabled and fucked up in the head and—”
“Stop it,” Shouta says, erasing his Quirk before his voice can get too loud. “Of course I care about you; that’s what your husband is supposed to do. You can be annoying sometimes, but so can everyone – I mean, pretty much every student in my class drives me up the wall, but I still care about them. And I know you’re autistic and you went through trauma as a kid and, yes, both of them can be a challenge sometimes, but so what? Relationships take work. And I love you. Please never forget that.”
Tears are leaking down Hizashi’s face, but he smiles the first real smile Shouta has seen all day. He steps forwards and hugs Shouta tightly. “Thank you so much. I love you too.”