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"I'm not going to leave you. You're never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise."
How long had it been?
Time was always promised to heal your wounds unconditionally, always promised that you'll indefinitely feel better as time grew. This promise felt as though it was under the same umbrella of that of a snake oil salesman trying to sell his "cure-all" while being blanketed by the shade of a grim alleyway.
But, nevertheless, you sat and waited. You endured every nightmare, every flashback, every flinch and twitch and imaginary breath down your neck, fully believing not enough time had passed and so that was why you were still the way you were.
But, now how long had it been?
So much time had passed that the people who always spoke those promises to you had backed down upon seeing your tormented state, writhing in the agony of your own subconscious. And it upset you.
You were constantly in pain, but at least you had something to look forward to. The future where you could possibly be normal and happy burned atop your mind, fueling your legs to move everyday and keeping your heart pumping and lungs breathing. The pain was endured even though it was horrible misery, but to you, if it meant it would be gone one day then you'd suffer the torment.
So that's why when you realized that it was never going away, and that those people were just saying things, life suddenly lost all its color and the bubbling memories raged as they burned and broiled all the way to the top of your mind, filling your world entirely with the past. You weren't a fighter, you were meek and cowardly, and so the dark emotions and thoughts would always go out of control, no restrictions or opposing forces to hold them back.
Currently lying on the couch of the living room, it was all you could do as your energy was now unpredictable, leaving you either shaking in paranoia of the shadow you saw earlier, or draining you and leaving you to succumb to the devoid atmosphere created by your mind.
Currently in the latter, you had moved yourself to the couch since you remembered it always made your father upset to see you lying in bed all the time. Not angry upset, but rather sad upset. You could always see some dark emotion swirling behind those somber dark pupils of his, but he would never clue you in on to how he was feeling, always focusing solely on you instead.
It felt a tad embarrassing, to be so dependent on someone to help you get through life because you can't do it on your own. Although it made you feel guilty for being so dependent on him to take care of you when your depression reared its ugly head, you found that you couldn't do anything about it whether you wanted to or not. Too drained to move, if you lived alone then you knew you'd probably have already died by lack of personal care.
You didn't know why, but you felt as though you were burdening this man that had so kindly taken you in. He took you in when you were at your worst and absolutely needed it, and how did you repay him? By having him work extra hard to care about your health and safety, by constantly worrying and saddening him with your depression, by taking up so much time in his busy life that he gets little to no sleep, and so on and so forth.
So, maybe you did know why after all.
It still hurt.
Thoughts started flowing in your mind, the steady stream picking up pace and beginning to form what looked to be a violent torrent. Crashing waves paired with the violent drag of the water threatened to pull you in and fully submerge you in the river of dark thoughts.
'Maybe you were better off gone, no need to further be a burden'
'A kind soul takes you in and you simply serve to batter and bruise it with you presence '
'What good do you even give?'
'He'll lose interest soon, nobody will stay somewhere giving all they have only to gain nothing but loss of materials and time '
'One day, he might just abandon you on the side of the road, all because you can't help but take up everything he's got'
Shaking, you clutched your head and burrowed your face into the soft back of the couch, warm fresh tears beginning to make their way down your face as the thoughts pummeled you with their cruel words. What hurt was most of them made sense to think about, and it only served to fill your guilt more than ever.
And you stayed like that for who knows how long. Laying limp and letting the thoughts hurl their callous statements at you. It hurt, but you couldn't do much about it, too drained to even get up from where you were laying. All you could manage was being able to pull the blanket you had wrapped around you earlier up your torso a little further, making it engulf you a little more.
The tears never stopped, and you understood that once again time wasn't on your side as it never helped with anything when needed. Little sobs grew to light wails, tears furiously pouring down your face and body racked with shaking and shivering, a hiccup or two cutting off the sound for a split second every now and then.
All of a sudden, light footsteps were heard dashing rapidly in your direction, but your paranoia was muffled by the sorrow that poured from your soul.
Before you knew it, two large warm hands were gently prying the blanket from your death grip, and then softly coddling your head as they turned you around to look at whoever was behind you.
You met eyes with your adoptive father, and once again, as you saw the worried look across his face all the horrible thoughts began to make sense, causing you to cry even harder and Aizawa to engulf you in his arms as he tried to gently move around you to sit with you on the couch.
His hair was still damp from the shower he just took, and it looked like he didn't finish completely drying himself before dashing out of his bathroom upon hearing your heart wrenching wails coming from the living room. It was a fatherly instinct, to drop everything regardless of its value or importance and immediately aim to soothe the pain of his little one (despite how old you are, you'll always be his little one to him).
Because to him, it was as if he could feel your pain right alongside you. He may have not known what was the cause of your tears, but it still pained him to see them running down your face and be the cause of an unknown ache- whether that ache came from the body or the mind, it didn't matter as he just wanted to do anything he could to soothe you from it.
And so that's why he found himself in his current position; cradling you in his arms in the spot you were previously laying, holding you and trying to soothe whatever was troubling you.
The blanket was still wrapped around you, but even though it was a bit awkward to work around that still didn't deter Aizawa. He ran his hands along your back, hushing and cooing at you to help your tears come to a slow. Pushing back the unruly hair that made its way in front of your darling face, he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead as you were starting to come to, the tears slowing and your crying turning from wails to little sniffles and hiccups that still jabbed him in the heart regardless of the intensity.
Once he thought you were back enough, he decided that now was the time to question what might have been the cause of your tears. He wasn't looking for an answer if you didn't want to give one, all he wanted was to know what to do to get rid of the pain that hurt you so.
He held you closely, your head laying against his chest as the warmth and the sound of his heartbeat soothed you in a way. Your face was still wet with the trails of tears and it was accompanied with puffy, red splotchy eyes and unruly hair that seemed to have a strand flying in every direction known to man.
Yet, as Aizawa looked at you, none of that even mattered to him, because through it all he saw his beloved little baby. The little imperfections you struggled to deal with were his favorite aspects of you, because it helped to serve him an image that was made entirely of you, real and existing without a template. And when you were gone, those memories helped him find little bits of you in things that he previously wouldn't have payed any attention to.
Like, for example, how you hated the way your hair looked at times. And once when Aizawa had to leave for the store once not too long ago, he noticed a little character on a ramen box that had a similar hairstyle in the exact way you didn't like yours (he ended up getting it because it got a chuckle out of him). Or how while he was walking to work once, he noticed a man walking in the streets with nearly the exact same limp as you did when you were too tired.
The little things that you didn't like were in the end what made you... You. And Aizawa loved you unconditionally, little imperfections and all. Theoretically, you could run out of your room one day and state that you believed aliens were real and they were coming to harvest people's kidneys, and he'd still love you the same regardless.
So that's why he strived to end the pain that constantly tormented you, wanting nothing more than to choke out the flame of dark thoughts that only existed to feast on your suffering.
Once, at a time in Aizawa's life when he was still struggling to find himself and his place in the world, he ran into a little child all by themselves on the street. No one seemed to even spare a glance at this child, the crowd simply walking around them with cruel apathy and empty hearts. The kid was so little, so fragile looking that Aizawa was worried that even a single gust of wind would be able to knock them down.
He didn't know why a child would be by themselves all alone in the city at night, nor did he know why nobody was even bothering to ask them if they needed help. But nevertheless, he still did what he thought was best. He went up to them and asked them about their parents, their life, if they needed help, and so on.
Imagine a young Aizawa's horror when he realized that this child was a survivor of a quirk orphanage.
When quirks made their way into society, many sick bastards were able to find ways to profit off of them, and human trafficking and organ harvester crimes rocketed up the charts as heroes and police officers tried to find any way to put an end to the explosion of what was deemed a new marketing potential.
And one of these 'investments' were quirk orphanages. A cruel place of business where children without any parents to care for them and also had a potentially powerful quirk were normally the biggest targets of these corporations. Sometimes the child's parents were set up to be murdered just for this sake of 'business'.
They would steal the child's quirk, or if it was irremovable then they would be forced to work until they couldn't any longer. And then the child would be disposed of, and another would be brought in.
It was a cruel cycle that had unfortunately gained an alarmingly large reputation among the groups of villains that corrupted the town, and it seemed as if everytime one was closed and shut down then two more popped up. It was easy money, especially for those heartless villains that didn't seem to have any other care in the world other than how much their wallet weighed.
You were so young that you didn't even remember what your quirk was, having it taken from you only a week after it developed. Somehow you were able to escape after a riot formed between the villains and the older kids who still had their quirks. And so, instead of fighting, you did what was the only thing on your mind: you ran.
The streets seemed so bright, and the taste of freedom was like honey upon your tongue when you first breached the orphanage's gates alongside some other kids. But the outside world was nothing but even more cruelty waiting for fresh new faces to consume. Half the group spilt off as food was scarce, and the police couldn't help much with too many cases such as yours piling onto them.
You never saw that group again as they got onto a different bus in hopes of finding someone out there to help, and eventually the kids left in your group started to disappear one after another, all having previously promised to take care of you since you were the youngest. Too bad they broke that promise, but you couldn't blame them. Food and clothes were hard to find, and any mouth other than the one on your face wasn't guaranteed anything to eat.
And that's how Aizawa found you, at the ripe age of 19 during one of his first patrols on his own. Seeing a sniveling, grimy, bruised child all by themselves huddled in a box in a dark alleyway certainly wasn't something that he was prepared to run into. But still, he took you to the police station in the end.
It was originally his plan to drop you off and hope that the police would sort things out, but when the officers were discussing on what to do with you he felt you cling to the pants of his hero outfit, and upon looking down he met eyes with your teary expression, face dirty and red while swollen tears ran down your little cheeks.
And something changed in him that day. Before he knew what he was doing, suddenly he was trying to convince the older officers that he, a young inexperienced boy who had no idea who this child was, was suitable for taking you in. And surprisingly, they allowed it right away.
So that's why looking at your teary face on moments like these gives Aizawa a special type of sting, it hits him low and hard because no matter how much time passes he'll always remember that sudden change in his demeanor. And he'll always remember the small, scared child that clung to him so desperately out of fear of what might happen to them.
Sighing somberly to himself at the memory, Aizawa noticed that your crying had finally come to a stop, and instead you were clinging onto his shirt while shaking slightly. Rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you, he leaned back and tenderly used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the wet trails that still stuck to your cheeks.
"You feeling better?" He asked, taking caution to keep his tone soft while you were still in a vulnerable state.
Upon feeling a slight nod of your head Aizawa relaxed some of the tension that ran through his body, allowing himself to lean back into the couch while still holding you in his arms. He fondly ran one hand through the locks of your hair while the other was constantly kept wrapped around you.
Letting out a heavy sigh, the tired pro began to think about how he could ask you what was wrong without it feeling too forced or too sudden, but you ended up beating him to it.
"I'm sorry.."
Upon hearing your apology, Aizawa shook his head. "No, there's nothing to be sorry for", shaking his head once again, "nothing at all".
You soon began to shake, and Aizawa prepared for another bought of tears, fearing he might accidentally fall with you as he can't stand the sight of your pain.
"No!"
The sudden outburst caught the both of you off guard, and in your panic you tried pulling away from the man, but unsuccessfully as Aizawa gently held you in place.
"No?.."
The split second of silence was deafening, but it was quickly filled regardless.
"I just- ... I just... " You didn't know how to properly phrase the thoughts in your head, and it ended with you shoving your face back into Aizawa's chest, his arms immediately wrapping back around you as he sensed you were becoming overwhelmed.
"J-just- Just.. don't wanna-.. see you g-gone.. or be a bu-burden..". Your voice came out muffled due to the fact that you were refusing to face the world and instead opted to hide away in the arms of your father, but he still understood you anyways.
Aizawa's expression softened as he breathed out in saddened exasperation. Now he was finally starting to piece things together; you thought you were taking up too much time or space in his life. But that couldn't have been any further from the truth.
"..."
Upon receiving nothing from the man but silence, you started to quiver in his arms, fearing for the worst as the cruel thoughts began mocking and berating you just as they had done moments earlier.
"I don't ever want to hear you say you're a burden again."
He started it slow, as if he was still testing the way the words came out, ending it with a complete flip in attitude when he confidently stated it, as though he was cemented down in his decision and was thoroughly ready to shoot down any opposing views.
"But-"
"No."
Such a simple word, yet it still held behind it such a heavy force that beared the weight of the words that he planned to speak, the wave of emotions and hidden thoughts behind it almost too much for such a lonely word to bear.
Aizawa clenched his jaw, a pained expression gnawing at his features. Despite his face holding such as exasperated and angered expression, the profound sadness in his eyes gave away the true merit of his mind.
"You've been with me how long? I'd say about 10 years, correct?"
Confused on how to behave in compliance to his odd reaction, you numbly nodded your head, wondering where he was planning to go.
"10 years...", He leaned back, reveling in the pleasant memories that came to his mind when he thought about all the things he got to do with you.
"That's a decade of me getting to watch you grow up. A decade where I got to help you learn how to get through with life, a decade where I got the honor of being your father ..." He paused, seemingly getting lost in thought as he looked idly behind you, before turning to look back at you having once again hidden your face in his arms.
His expression softened further as a gentle rush of fond memories began to make their way through his mind. Lazy mornings going shopping in your guys' pajamas, holding you up so you can put the star on the Christmas tree, watching you run around in your new kimono on child's day, taking you all the way to Tokyo since you loved it so much and it seemed to bring the biggest smile he's ever seen reach across your little face... And so many others.
Burden... Oh how he loathed the word. It exacted from him a dormant rage that he had never been aware of boiling and seething inside of him. But oh, how he wanted to erase the word and it's meaning clean from your mind. And fill the empty spot with even more cherished memories instead.
He continued looking down at you with a tender expression, one of longing and fatherly affection. Softly nuzzling the top of your head with his free hand, he gently pried your face from his arms so that he had you facing him.
"Tell me, during those 10 years, did you ever regret getting taken in by me? Did you ever wish you were taken in by another family?"
Startled by his questions, you thought that you had given him the wrong idea, that instead of you thinking of yourself as a burden he thought he was the problem. Truth be told, Aizawa knew what he was doing. He's a smart man, so of course he's going to try to find a solid way to get you to understand his point of view and what he wants you to know.
"Ehh?! No! No, it's not that! I just- I just-" You started getting teary eyed again and Aizawa cut you off before you ran yourself dry with a kiss to the side of your head. Pulling back, he continued.
"So you don't regret how your life turned out?" He said, trying to get you to look him in the eye, but failing due to your uncooperative demeanor, "You see, I feel the exact same way. Just asking you those questions hurt. Do you know why I asked them in the first place?"
Dumbfounded once again, you dumbly shook your head in response to the odd questions he was asking you. You wanted to know where he was going with this, as everytime something like this happened, he'd always have a new answer, over that was always somehow deeper and more profound than the last.
Aizawa wasn't finished, and this time he wanted to get his answer to hit somewhere deep and prominent, to have it so that not a single piece of guilt could shred your determination, nor a single dark thought to tear away at your resolve. He just wanted to help you be happy without fear or guilt, for you to be truly relaxed without paranoia breathing upon you, and for you to simply enjoy what life held without feeling weighed down by all the past packages that consumed your mind everyday.
"Because- and I want you to hear me loud and clear- I'm not going to leave you. You're never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise."
And with his words stated quite clearly, he waited for your response. Although he knew what he thought and how he felt, Aizawa clearly understood that you didn't, and that was the main root of all your worry and fears of abandonment.
Silence filled the room, the tension weighing down the previous sounds and words said. Smaller sounds were able to be heard from around the house, but Aizawa was completely focused on you. He was mentally preparing himself for any opposing remarks, questions, or debates, knowing all too well that you were like an object being used by your terrible thoughts and paranoia. Oh, how Aizawa had developed a deep hatred for something that didn't even physically exist.
Nothing was said as you sat there in your father's arms, trying your best to make what your could of the situation. It was an all out clash of thoughts as you began to absorb more and more of his words. The dark thoughts, crying out their terrible song and attempting to drag you down with their sharpened claws, versus the firmly planted words of your father (that you knew right away the man wasn't going to debate).
Nothing was said, but it wasn't needed as your actions spoke soundless words and cried in silent pain.
Aizawa was watching you carefully, you knew that the whole time as it was a habit of his, never daring to take his eyes off of you (the man had his own fears and paranoias to battle himself).
Silently, tenderly, you seemed to make a decision as Aizawa watched you slowly look up at him, shyly making eye contact for the first time in ages. And with that, the tense barrier was broken as you lunged forward, hugging him as tightly as your arms could hold. In a matter of milliseconds, Aizawa's arms met yours immediately, wrapping you up in a just at tight hug (though, he had to be careful in order to not cause you any harm with his strength).
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Aizawa knew that though this conversation wasn't the last of many, he was glad that you both had stepped forward together.
And that's how your night went, both of you content in each other's arms as your paranoia was snuffed out by the better and hotter flame that was of your father's devotion to loving and caring for you.
Just this once, your sounds of sorrow weren't given the right of way, and for that you knew you owed your father a "thank you".