Work Text:
The world was already spinning around him, but Shouta remained immovable. Unbudging. Determined. He stood his ground, fighting through the white-hot pain coursing through his elbow—or. rather, what's left of it—and throughout the rest of his body. His brows were furrowed, lips bulled back to a snarl as he glared at the white-haired villain who had just attempted to reduce one of the students to mere ash.
His student. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, chest brimming with anger. This sick bastard just tried to harm his students.
No, Shouta thought, gritting his teeth. Not on my watch. The villain was spouting something presumably villanous, but as much as he'd like to listen it completely flew from one of Shouta's ear to the other, as he had his face unceremoniously meet the hard ground a mere second after. His hair, already scraggly and already matted with bits of his dried blood stuck to his face as he struggled to breathe. Even something as inane as breathing seemed such a daunting task right now; after all, trying to take in oxygen while your face is smashed against the concrete is a pretty difficult thing to do.
His chest shuddered with effort as he squirmed beneath the hand gripping at the back of his head, trying his best to get some sort of leverage, trying to get the pressure off his head. God, it hurt so much. But he can't give up, not right now. Nor ever. Not until this son of a bitch is still here, terrorizing anyone and everyone in UA.
He can't give up. And so, with all that's left of his strength, he tries to push himself up and fight.
It was a noble effort, but futile nonetheless. His resistance was met with the floor being shoved to his face—or, the other way around, be more accurate. Blood trickled from a new cut on his forehead, dripping down his cheek and splattering on the concrete below. Black was seeping from the corner of his vision, bringing along with it an overwhelming sense of dread.
No.
No.
No. Despair crept into his rapidly-beating heart, and panic wrappped its ugly coils around his chest, rendering him far more breathless than before.
Useless. That was he was, right now; powerless to stop this terrorist, powerless to defend his students. His students, who were crying out for him, in fear and in worry, all blending into one disconsolate sound. And here he was, their supposed guardian, face down on the ground, rendered completely helpless by a mere single hand. Shouta's fingers trembled as he sought purchase from the ground, only to be proven fruitless once more. He hardly had the energy to breathe, much less fight back. Each labored breath held less and less air as the seconds go by, and all the colors in his eye bled further into black.
And then when all hope seemed lost, a voice rang in his ears. A loud, thundering voice—
I'm here.
Where had Shouta heard that before? Despite the haze, his brain wandered, and suddenly, flashes of yellow and blue and red and a glimmering smile immediately came to his mind. A symbol of hope, of peace, and a hero.
All Might. The one and only. He would've chuckled if he could. Better late than never, right?
The pressure on his head disappeared, and Shouta could feel the relief already. Oxygen filled his lungs as he felt himself being picked up gingerly. He could only grasp blindly at the mass in front of him, something akin to hope blooming in his chest.
"—agi," Shouta managed to wheeze out through the hazy, swirling colors in his brain, gasping for much needed air. "Yagi."
It was fine. Everything would be fine now.
The grip around him tightened. I'm sorry, Aizawa.
"Save them," Shouta said weakly, before finally allowing the darkness to take him.
-------------
It's been almost a day and Shouta still couldn't see shit.
It had been traumatizing, to say the least, when he woke up, still drugged and not entirely conscious, to darkness and noise and then suddenly his heart was thumping hard against his chest— he couldn't breathe and he couldn't see, and oh god he'd rather die than be blind, he'll be useless again, oh god why did this happen—
—until warm hands engulfed Shouta's frame, a soft yet firm voice (that he knew but still couldn't quite place it) saying "It's gonna be alright, Aizawa," and "I'm here, you're okay," so soothingly and then the trainwreck of his thoughts had suddenly vanished like a popped bubble. Shouta fell into a deep sleep after that incident, still cradled into the mysterious person's arms. It was kind of sad that the second time Shouta woke up, the warmth and comfort had already gone—with only a few nurses scuttling about, asking him the same questions and prescribing him medicines over and over again, and generally making Shouta uncomfortable.
Shouta absolutely despised hospitals—everything from the white ceiling down to the white, tiled floors, from the food to the general feeling of restlessness, boredom and uselessness while he was lounging around his room. While it may true that Shouta disliked a lot of things (being talked about, noise, the darkness to name a few), hospitals would always take the number one spot of Things-Shouta-Would-Rather-Not-Acknowledge-The-Existence-Of (followed closely by his feelings).
"Shouta hates hospitals, though," came Hizashi's groan. "He may have survived the injury, but he won't survive in here."
"He'll be fine, 'Zashi," Nemuri's amused voice sounded from Shouta's far left. "If he's not going to be a little bitch, that is."
What's worse, the two people in the room—the ones he had the misfortune of calling 'friends'—aren't exactly making him feel any better. Quite the opposite, in fact, if the headache he's currently sporting is any sign. "I'm right here," Shouta snapped, before crossing his arms and skulking back to his pillows. "I can take care of myself just fine. I don't need to be here."
Even in his condition, Shouta can just imagine the dubious looks he was most likely receiving from both Nemuri and Hizashi, and he would have rolled his eyes if he could. He scoffed instead, sinking even deeper down on his mountain of hospital pillows.
"Temporarily blind is still blind, Eraser," Hizashi whined. The blond's loud footsteps alerted Shouta of Hizashi's plan, and Shouta narrowly avoided the onslaught of his best friend's abomination of a bear hug by inching a few centimeters to the side. "What if you can't see my shows anymore?!"
"You have a radio show, dumbass," Shouta deadpanned. "And it's not even remotely blindness. I just can't use my eyes for a day or two to prevent further damage."
"Ah, so you do listen to my show!" Hizashi said, very joyfully and very loudly and far too close for Shouta's liking. The Erasure Hero flinched away from his voice, wincing.
"Not too loud, you idiot," Nemuri sighed. The sound of a slap echoed around the room, followed by Hizashi's subsequent (and still very much obnoxious) yelp of pain.
Despite everything, Shouta couldn't stop the small smirk from forming on the corner of his lips. Although the two dunces he considered his closest friends were generally always tiptoeing the very thin line between "annoying" and "funny", they were still his friends—and that was something Shouta will forever be grateful for, even though he wouldn't exactly admit it out loud.
It was then a person made their presence known with three soft knocks on Shouta's door. Shouta heard Nemuri shuffle away to open the door, and the black haired man turned to face Hizashi's (presumed) direction. "Who is it?" He asked listlessly, opting to sink further down his pillows hoping to be smothered by his bed instead of interacting with another medical professional.
Instead of answering his question like a notmal question, however, Hizashi merely guffawed. "Oh hoh hoh," He laughed, slapping Shouta lightly on the back. "I wanna see where this goes."
Shouta's eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Shouta could just see the grin growing on Hizashi's face the second blond pinches his arm. "It's your cuddle buddy," He whispered, giggling madly as he evaded Shouta's fist flying through the air.
Nemuri's speaking with someone on the far side of the room, to where Shouta assumed the door was. Eyebrows furrowing, he had to strain his ears to hear the conversation better.
"—didn't know when you were coming," the dratted woman was saying, "or if you were coming at all. Either way, thanks for being here. I'm sure Aizawa will appreciate your presence."
Shouta snorted. Rarely did he ever "appreciate" visitors, unexpected or not, and he's sure whoever's on the other side of the door was no exception.
"Right," the mysterious visitor said, awkwardess radiating off of the singular word. Though short, the one-word sentence was enough for Shouta to know who it is. He resisted the overwhelming urge to groan and forced himself to sink through the matress instead.
Great. Just the one person he didn't want to see right now. Hear right now?
"Is... is he okay, though?" The other man continued meekly.
"You can ask him yourself, Yagi," Nemuri, always the little shit, replied coyly. "He's blind, not deaf."
"Or mute!" Hizashi adds, somewhat unhelpfully.
"Oh," came Yagi's sheepish reply, "right."
Shouta sighed. Might as well get it over it as soon as possible. "I've been worse." He said, making his voice fractionally louder. "And it's only temporary, anyway."
There's a slight pause after Shouta stopped speaking. If he were to guess, he'd taken all three of by surprise.
"That's, that's good," Yagi said. His relief is palpable from his tone alone. "B-but not really! Wait, no, I'm not saying it's bad you're better now, I mean—" the blonde stammered. "It is good that you're better now, but it's terrible that you've been through worse. Yeah."
"... Thanks," Shouta replied curtly. He crosses his arms over his chest.
Ugh. Small talk was already bad enough, but awkward small talk? He'd rather jump off a balcony.
And just when he thought this day wouldn't get any worse, a surge of pain suddenly lit a path on Shouta's temple, completely unprompted. Groaning, he clutched at the side of his head, fingernails digging through the bandages wrapped around his forehead. A hand was on Shouta's shoulder in an instant, and it felt like an electric shock coursing through Shouta's body.
"Are you okay?" Yagi asked, worry seeping into his voice. "Do you want us to call a nurse?"
Shouta flinched away from the touch, and immediately, Yagi withdrew his offending hand, spluttering out his apologies as he did. "It's fine," Shouta said, now massaging his temple, whose pain had thankfully subsided drastically. "I'm fine, just... Calm down."
"I'm sorry," Yagi stammered out, again.
"And stop saying sorry already," he grumbled. "Not really helping."
"I'm sorry," said Yagi, before catching himself just in time. "Ah, no, I meant— I'm sorry, it's already second nature to me—Ah! No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— I'm sorry, I'll stop now, I'm sorry."
Shouta could feel a migraine forming already. Still rubbing at his temple, he opened his mouth to speak—well, wanted to, anyway, before he got interrupted before even getting the chance to start.
"Sorry doesn't even feel like a word anymore," Hizashi mused, and Shouta nearly jumped in surprise. He'd nearly forgotten that the blond and Nemuri were there with Yagi, too— he was so preoccupied with Yagi it had completely slipped off his mind.
— why was he so focused on Yagi in the first place? What the hell was happening to him? Must be the drugs, Shouta thought lamely. And why were the two, Present Mic and Midnight, the loudest of the heroes, being so uncharacteristically quiet?
Nemuri cleared her throat. "I just remembered; Hizashi and I have to be somewhere else to be," She coughed pointedly, and proceeded to forcefully shoo Hizashi out of Shouta's bed. "We'll be out of your hairs now."
"Oh yes, but of course." Hizashi said, with a suggestive tone worming its way into his tone that made warning bells Shouta ring in Shouta's ear. "...Wink, wink. I'm saying wink because you can't see me winking at you. Aaaaaaand finger-guns. Catchya later, byee!"
Shouta's eyebrows furrowed. What on earth were those two idiots they planning?
"Oi, Mic, Midnight!" Shouta called, annoyed, huffing when the only answer he got was the sound of the door shutting close. "Oi, you two—ugh, nevermind." He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms with a huff as he leaned back to his pillows again, skulking.
A few moments of silence that definitely felt like year followed the pair's hasty escape. Yagi cleared his throat after a while, the sound nearly making Shouta jump out of his skin.
"I, uh, brought cake," he admitted lamely, placing the box that Shouta assumed had said baked good in it on Shouta's thighs. "I don't like being in hospitals very much either, and I always had people smuggle these to make me feel a little better." Yagi added sheepishly, and Shouta had to restrain himself from snorting at the thought of the number one hero strapped to a bed, begging for some cake.
Shouta let his fingers glide against the edges of the box, feeling the smooth edges lined with silk ribbons with his fingertips. He bit the inside of his cheek, feeling as though butterflies had started fluttering in his stomach. "Thanks, but I exactly can't eat it right now." Shouta managed to deadpan, tone curt (successfully obscuring his nervousness with sarcasm once more; good job, Shouta). "My whole face is bandaged tight, as you can clearly see."
Even though Shouta couldn't see the bumbling blonde, he could just imagine the flustured look on his face, complete with Yagi's hand scratching on the back of his head sheepishly.
"Right," Yagi mumbled after a few seconds. Shouta heard the sound of skin meeting skin, and deduced it as Yagi slapping his forehead in a "shit-I'm-stupid" moment. "I'm sorry, I didn't think this through enough."
"Evidently," Shouta drawled, deciding to say it humorously rather than sarcastically to save Yagi from further embarassment. "And I thought I told you to stop doing that."
"Stop what?... ah! I didn't notice, I'm sorry!" Yagi blabbered, and then started spluttering out his apologies for the umpteenth time. Shouta sighed, bringing a hand upwards to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was starting to regret telling the blond to do that, feeling rather cruel especially when he knew how "heroic" and naturally gentle the man was.
"It's fine, I was just joking, Yagi," Shouta sighed again, this time bringing his hand down to fiddle with the smooth, small box again. "Just calm down, and maybe put this thing on the sidetable?"
"Right, of course! No problem!" Yagi was immediately on him again, large hands grasping the small box on Shouta's hand and accidentally brushed his fingers on Shouta's palms. Shouta jolted, heartbeat accelerating significantly as he felt as though Kaminari's electric shocks had coursed all throughout his body from the place where Yagi's skin touched his. Yagi must've felt it too, as the other man flinched away from his touch just like he did.
"What the hell was that?" Shouta demanded, rubbing his palm feverishly.
"I... I don't know," Yagi replied, sounding just as confused as Shouta was. "I—"
"You're sorry?" The black-haired man finished for him.
"No, I— well, yes, but—" Yagi continued awkwardly stumbling on his words, until he cut himself off from blubbering again, and sighed. "I should probably go now."
Yagi made to leave, and when the door creaked open somewhere in Shouta's brain short-circuited and made himself say "Wait," and reach out blindly to Yagi's retreating form. Shouta's heart was thumping rapidly on his chest, anticipating and regretting the next few seconds at the same time. It was an awkward few moments until Yagi realized Shouta couldn't see him stop at the doorway and continue what he was about to say. Yagi cleared his throat, closing the door again and walking towards Shouta in short, nervous steps.
"Aizawa?" Yagi's voice, Shouta noted, tremored with nerve. The erasure hero supposed it felt nice that he wasn't the only one who's feeling like their heart was seemingly rattling on their chest.
It was Shouta's turn to stumble on his words. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it and closed it again much like a gaping fish. He pursed his lips when he couldn't find the right words to say, pinching his nose as he did.
"I'm not used to doing this, but—" He began, before running his hand through his hair in frustration. "— whatever. Thank you." Shouta took a deep breath. "And I'd like to eat cake like this with you when I'm able to," he finished, feeling as though his face was in flames.
"Oh," was the only thing coherent that came out of Yagi's mouth. Shouta crossed his arms. "Oh. R-right. That's good. That's very, very good. I'd like it very much too, Aizawa."
Shouta snorted at Yagi's reply. "Didn't know you were that eloquent," He quipped goodnaturedly, unable to keep himself from smiling.
"It's a date then!" Hizashi's voice called from outside the room, before being followed by a hissed "Shh!", and then Nemuri's angry "You idiot!" and then finally a loud smack. That day, Hizashi learned that even a (temporarily) blind knows how to pack a punch.