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“Does it bother you?”
Aizawa stirs the noodles, back to Yagi as he speaks. But his eyebrows arch and he glances back. Yagi’s bent over on the table, reading some of his student’s homework. There’s a red pen in his hand, and glasses are perched low on his nose. He looks handsome like this, Aizawa thinks. Even if he’s too bony, even if he’s frail. Aizawa is working on that.
“Does what bother me?” he asks, turning back to the noodles. They’re special noodles made with chickpeas as though to not irritate his stomach. It’s been sensitive, these days, and Aizawa doesn’t want to accidentally activate an episode.
“The sickness,” Yagi says and Aizawa pauses. “How sick I am. How I can’t do normal things or eat normal food... Does it bother you?” He takes a deep, raspy breath as though he’s waiting for Aizawa to break his heart. And Aizawa has no intention of doing so.
He sets the wooden spoon down, and turns to face Yagi. Yagi is still hunched over, focused on the papers but Aizawa speaks. “No,” he says. “It doesn’t bother me. Never has, never will.”
Yagi lets out a dry laugh and leans back in his chair, looking to Aizawa. There’s a sad expression on his face. It permeates throughout his whole body. It makes something in Aizawa’s chest pang with hurt. “Face it,” Yagi says. “I’m a burden. I’m so sick you had to move in with me and become my partial caregiver. I’m so sick you need to cook with special ingredients. I’m so sick I keep you up all night throwing up half the time. I’m exhausting. I’m exhausted.”
Aizawa simply hovers for a moment, unsure of what to say or where to go. Part of him wants to run his fingers along that angular, sharp face. He wants to smooth all the edges that is Toshinori Yagi. And part of him wants to insist, persist, that no, Yagi is not a burden. No, Yagi is not exhausting. He’s eccentric. He’s bright. He’s all the things that fascinate Aizawa and keep him here.
This is not a job. This is Yagi’s life, and Aizawa wants to entangle his own among it.
“You’re a fool,” says Aizawa, and he sees Yagi flinch. But he continues with, “You’re a fool if you think I don’t want to be here. You’ve said multiple times that I could walk out and be done with it with no judgement. You’ve shown me the door. You’ve tried to kick me out. And I’m still here.” He takes a deep breath and lets loose. “I will be here, Yagi, until you don’t need me. Until you don’t need anyone. And right now, you need someone. And that’s okay. We all need someone at one point. And I’m here. If you don’t want me, then I’ll leave. But until then, I’m staying. I’m here. For you.”
Yagi is silent, blinking owlishly at Aizawa. The man shrugs. “I’m stubborn.”
Yagi cracks a smile and lets out a low laugh. Aizawa smirks and grabs the spoon, shaking it at Yagi. But still, something heavy hangs in the air. Something reeks of insecurity. But Aizawa doesn’t push it as Yagi goes back to grading, and he remains. Cooking, cleaning, existing.
The vomiting begins at one in the morning.
Aizawa is dozing off, still grading papers when he hears Yagi gag. He pauses, staring at the paper Midoriya wrote on All Might’s rise and fall in the hero industry. It’s a good paper, as to be expected. But it can wait when he hears Yagi fall in the other room.
Aizawa curses, getting to his feet. His chair screeches behind him as he rushes out of his room. He moves swiftly through the hallway and explodes into Yagi’s room. The man is crumpled over and gagging, blood dripping from his mouth. His sheets are tangled in his legs, and they’re stained red. It’s clear he’s having an episode, and Aizawa doesn’t know how bad it’ll be.
Without any hesitation, he springs into action. He grabs the bowl he conveniently keeps next to the door on Yagi’s desk. He grabs at the sheets between Yagi’s legs and pulls them loose, thus freeing him for movement. At the same time, he pushes the bowl into Yagi’s hands and listens to the man retch into it. The sheets are ruined, and Aizawa makes a note to buy the third pair this month. But for now, he’s focused on this man, on his friend, on his something more
“It’s bad,” Yagi gasps out in between gags. “It’s really bad.”
“Save your strength,” Aizawa says and his friend retches into the bowl. His hand comes up to his back, rubbing the skin back and forth. He tries to comfort Yagi, to offer support as he throws up and up and up. All of it is blood. Deep, vibrant red blood. A kernel of concern lights itself in Aizawa’s chest as the force of Yagi’s retching shakes his thin, scrawny body.
That’s a lot of blood. A lot lot. Fuck, what if it’s his stomach lining again? Aizawa stands up and grabs his phone. He calls Yagi’s doctor, who wakes up easily despite the time of the night.
“He’s vomiting blood again,” he says, and the doctor makes a noise of worry. “It’s a lot, doc.”
“Get him to the E.R,” says the doctor. “Now.”
Aizawa doesn’t hesitate. He grabs his keys and helps hoist Yagi to his feet. His friend groans, face pale and eyes dark. He looks like he’s dying. And Aizawa hopes, Aizawa prays that that is not the case. He takes a deep breath and helps tug Yagi down the hallway, out the door, down the accessibility ramp they installed, and into his car. He shoves the bowl onto Yagi’s lap and then climbs into the driver’s seat. His friend lays splayed out and bloody, eyes glassy. Aizawa’s chest aches.
It’s hard, he admits it. It’s hard to be close to someone who is so chronically ill. Not because of the sickness. Not because of the complications. But because no matter how much Aizawa cares for this man, he will always be in pain. He will always suffer. And Toshinori Yagi is the last person who should suffer. It makes Aizawa hurt. But he will stay. He will always stay.
Aizawa spins off, speeding and driving way over the speed limit. He doesn’t care. He needs to get Yagi to the E.R. And honestly, Aizawa has gotten skilled at this. He’s grown so accustomed to driving to the E.R. that he doesn’t need the GPS, and can easily bank all the turns and twists. Yagi coughs and gags beside him, leaning against the window and savoring its cool touch. Aizawa reaches over and rubs at his shoulder, murmuring, “Stay with me, Yagi. Stay with me.”
Because that’s all he needs. All he needs is Yagi to stay here, stay with him, keep fighting. Aizawa notes a small, shaky smile from his friend and he feels reassurance swell in his chest. They’ll be okay. They have to be okay.
They have life to live. Together. One day. Soon.
Aizawa pulls up to the E.R with a loud screech, and is immediately jumping out of his door. He pulls open Yagi’s side and his friend is hunched over, nearly passed out. Aizawa’s heart jumps at the sight as he pulls him out, supporting his weight. Yagi damn near collapses and Aizawa has to use all his hero strength to keep him up. Nurses rush out as he shouts, “I need help here!”
They come onto the other side of Yagi, and hoist his arm around them. Together, they drag Yagi into the E.R. and onto a chair. Aizawa easily checks in, answering the questions as the nurses do preliminary routines. They check his blood pressure, temperature, and so on. None of it is good. All of it is bad.
“As soon as a doctor opens up,” says a nurse. “We’ll get him in.”
“Can’t the doctor see him now?” Aizawa asks, nerves making him tremble. How long does Yagi have? A glance reveals that no, Yagi does not have long. He’s breaking down. He’s losing it. “He’s not good. He’s sick. Chronic.”
“I understand,” says the nurse. There’s a sympathetic expression on her face. But Aizawa knows this is going to take time. “But all are helping other patients.”
Aizawa takes a deep breath to calm down, and nods before returning to Yagi’s side. The nurses dissipate, and Aizawa takes a seat. His friend is slumped across the seat, shaking. His hands rattle, with raspy breaths barely escaping him. His eyes are closed, no doubt from the pain he’s in. Aizawa reaches over and rests his hand on top of Yagi’s. His eyes open.
“We at...the E.R.?” he asks and Aizawa nods. Yagi hums. “Good...good…” Another raspy breath. It sounds forced, barely there. “I’m...sorry…”
Icy cold anger heats Aizawa’s veins, and he adjusts in his seat so he’s completely facing Yagi. The man just watches Aizawa move, unable to summon any words or emotions. Aizawa jabs a finger in the man’s chest, soft enough it doesn’t hurt but definitely firm. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare apologize for being human.”
Yagi shakes his head slowly. “No,” he says. “I should be better. I’m All Might.”
“First you were Yagi Toshinori. And now, you’re Yagi Toshinori again. You were a hero. You are a hero. But you’re no use if you’re dead. If you’re dying.” Aizawa takes a deep breath to calm himself. When he launches again, his voice is unusually cool and smooth. “You are All Might. You always will be. But you have always been human. And you’re human now. And humans get sick. But don’t think for a moment I’m annoyed. Or that I pity you. Or that you’re a bother. I’ve been here. I will always be here. Until the very, bitter end.”
Yagi is silent, breaths still rattling and shaking. But there’s a twitch in his lips, the ghost of a smile. Aizawa relaxes in his seat, before jerking up with Yagi hunches over and vomits more blood. He reaches up to wipe it away but more just dribbles down, dripping off his fingers. Aizawa’s heart thumps erratically. He reaches over, holding the bucket up. Yagi grasps for it messily.
“Can the doctor see him yet?” Aizawa calls and the nurses scatter. He huffs in annoyance, but turns back to face Yagi. The amount of blood he’s lost must be significant. His skin’s pallor is dangerously white, and he can barely keep his eyes open. Fucking E.R.’s. He’s spent more time in them than he cares to face, and still they disappoint him. They should’ve gone to the one on the other side of town, even if it was a longer drive.
Yagi chuckles. “You’re scaring them,” he says. God, Aizawa hates seeing that blood coating his lips. It sends him into a panic, a desperate urge to help. Maybe that’s the hero in him. Maybe it’s the teacher. Or maybe it’s the love Aizawa harbors for Yagi, even though he’d never admit it. Not out loud. Not yet.
“We need a doctor,” says Aizawa. “Now.”
“I’ll be fine,” Yagi says, waving a hand.
Aizawa frowns. “It could be your stomach again. You might need surgery.”
“Then it’s just another day.”
Aizawa sighs, and falls silent. It’s true. Yagi has a surgery basically every other month. His entire life revolves around doctor appointments and surgeries. It’s exhausting, but Aizawa has been there ever since Yagi let him in. He’ll stay too if this means another surgery.
“It shouldn’t be,” Aizawa says. “You don’t deserve this.”
“Isn’t that odd?” Yagi says, and Aizawa cocks his head. “What we deserve, and what we don’t.” He chuckles. Blood drips down his chin. “How odd.”
And then he passes out.
Time moves weird when you panic. Aizawa has learned that plenty of times. The adrenaline kicks in, time slows down, everything becomes muffle and silent… It feels as though you’re moving through sludge, unable to completely move your limbs. That’s what Aizawa experiences when Yagi faints.
The man slumps forward, careening towards the floor. It’s only thanks to Aizawa’s hero instincts that he jumps forward and grabs at Yagi, pulling him back up. He slumps completely into Aizawa, low weight bearing down on him. The nurses are already rushing their way. Aizawa feels white hot fear and rage course through his veins.
They need a doctor.
By like...yesterday.
“Get me a goddamn doctor!” he yells and there’s no refusals or rebuttals. They pull out a gurney and lift Yagi onto it. Blood drips down from his fingers onto the white tile floor, stark in its contrast. It makes Aizawa’s stomach flip and jump and somersault. They push him back into a hallway with fluorescent lights, buzzing and flickering. A nurse comes up, saying they need to get him into an O.R. His stomach may have more issues that he predicted.
Aizawa reaches for Yagi, but he’s too far away. He’s always just out of reach. Aizawa stumbles, and the nurse catches him. “Yagi,” he says, voice breaking. “Yagi! Don’t you dare fucking die! Don’t you dare!”
He thinks he sees the ghost of a smile on that pale, angular face, but they’re already turning and already gone. Time comes crashing down. Everything feels heavy and hard. Aizawa lingers in the hallway, still reaching for where Yagi had just been.
Aizawa will wait. He will wait forever for Yagi. So he lowers his hand, and turns to the waiting room. The nurse escorts him, saying things that go in one ear and out another. It all feels like static. It all feels otherworldly. Aizawa is somewhere else. He’s not down on Earth.
No, he’s wherever Yagi may be. And he will linger. For him.
It takes approximately three hours to stabilize Yagi. Aizawa isn’t sure of the specifics. They don’t really matter. Not now, anyways. All that matters is Aizawa being escorted to his room, and walking in to see Yagi hooked up to tubes and wires and all that. It isn’t the first time he’s seen this sight, and he knows it won’t be the last. Still, it makes something in him ache.
How can such a beautiful man deserve such horrible things?
“Isn’t that odd?” Yagi had said. And yes, yes he was right. It is odd.
Aizawa pulls up a chair beside Yagi, and takes a seat. The frail man shakily and raspily sucks in breaths. The heart monitor reassures Aizawa with a steady beep. Trembling, Aizawa reaches up and rests his hand on top of Yagi’s. His skin is cold and papery thin, but the contact makes his heart hurt a little less.
“You old man,” he hums, watching Yagi’s eyelashes flutter. “You cause hell. But good thing I’m a sinner.”
“Aren’t we all?” Yagi says, and Aizawa jumps a little bit. His eyelids flutter again, before they slowly open to reveal those cerulean blue irises. His lips twitch into a small smile, and he looks so fragile. So thin. Aizawa just wants to bundle him up, and shove food his way. Anything to help. Anything to make things better. “I’m sorry… For all the trouble I’ve caused.”
“Don’t,” Aizawa says, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare apologize for something that’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it though?” Yagi asks, and Aizawa feels his veins burn. Anger flashes hot in his system. What once was fear, is now rage. “I cause all these problems. I’m always sick. I keep you up. I make you wait.”
“You don’t make me do anything,” Aizawa hisses. He pulls his hand away. “I’m here because I want to be here.”
“And for that, I’m sorry.”
“For what? The fact I care about you? The fact that I want to be here for you and help?”
“I’m an old man.” A wry, bitter smile curls Yagi’s lips. “You could be anywhere, with anyone. And yet, you’re here. With me.”
“I am, and I always will be.” Aizawa stands, and he takes Yagi’s hand. He presses it firmly against his chest, over the pitter-patter of his heart. “This… This is how you make me feel.” He knows his pulse is erratic. He knows his heart beats faster than ever. “This is what I do. I live for you.” A deep breath. “I love for you. You’ve shown me life, and even death. And I know what I want. I want to live with you. I want to hurt with you. But I want to be with you. I need to be with you. However you’ll have me.” He takes a deep breath. “In sickness, and in health. I swear it. So don’t you pull that bullshit on me. Don’t you dare dwindle yourself down to the blood and vomit and pain. You’re more than that. We’re more than that.” His nostrils flare. “We are more than our weakness. You are more than your pain. I know. I’ve seen it. And I’m here.” He lets out a breath, setting Yagi’s hand down. Yet still, he keeps his own hand entangled with it. “I will always be here.”
Yagi just blinks owlishly at him, unsure of what to do or say. Aizawa takes a seat and savors the coldness of Yagi’s hand. The man doesn’t make a move to shy away. No, they both savor the contact and whatever it may mean. Whatever Aizawa just admitted.
“Isn’t that odd?” Yagi hums, and Aizawa arches a brow. Yagi reaches up and rests his other hand on top of Aizawa’s. “What we deserve.”
“You deserve life,” Aizawa says. “A pain-free, long-lasting life.”
“And if I want my life to run congruent with yours?"
Aizawa pauses before saying, “I’m always here.”
Yagi smiles. His eyes light up. And he doesn't look so frail anymore. No, he looks alive. He looks bright and alive and here. “And so am I.”
In sickness and health, Aizawa persists. And Yagi does too beside him.