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It had been a long day and it was turning out to be an even longer night. Hitoshi Shinsou twisted to roll from one side to his other, huffing a little as he did and feeling the breath hitch deeply, air running down through his lungs smoothly. He couldn't say he wasn't comfy. He had a nice stuffed elephant provided to him by one father or another snuggled neatly to his chest, nose pressed to the top of its head, matted but soft and cozy and smelling like home. His room was cold in the way that let his blankets warm him nicely, and he liked the way his pillow was bunched up just so under his shoulder to allow him to tuck the side of his face neatly into the crevice of it.
He just, couldn't sleep. His eyes were wide open, and his body felt awake in a too-alive sort of way. A way that made his thought train flit to every creak of the floorboards outside his door from the cats traipsing the home, every slight incongruence in the steady hum of the AC from the loose capacitor that Aizawa kept saying he'd fix but never got around to. Every time Hitoshi thought he might be able to close his eyes, he'd start thinking about what he wanted to practice in training tomorrow, or a question he wanted to ask Midoriya, and off again his brain would whir, around and around and around with a boundless energy that only ever seemed to possess him at night. He felt all too present in mind when he was supposed to be sleepy right now, goddammit.
Hitoshi flicked his eyes towards the alarm clock, briefly. It flashed 12:14am at him, and as the minutes passed, it seemed less mechanical and more mocking. By 1:30, Hitoshi had pawed the little purple clock off the nightstand and rolled over again in bed. When he rolled back, some indeterminable time later, he saw that it had landed face up. 2:06, it chirped up at him, and Hitoshi wished he'd hit it hard enough to knock the batteries loose.
Perhaps the most upsetting thing about it was how hard Aizawa and Yamada had been working to get him settled into a proper sleep schedule. He'd been their kid for so long now, but even still, the nightmares had torn at his frayed psyche until his sleep schedule was absolute dogshit. When he was younger, he'd stay up all night to avoid them and sleep intermittently between classes in intervals that wouldn't ever let him sleep deep enough to dream, much less enter REM. At some point, he started to consider himself ruined for restful nights.
That was where Aizawa and Yamada came in. His parents. The term is still a little new to him-, new to them. He'd only just started calling them dad and pa a few months ago, and every time he says it, it still feels a little strange. Hitoshi Shinsou, with parents. Parents who had been trying for years to help him sleep better. They had worked hard on giving him a nice routine every night. They said it would help his body understand that it was time to sleep. He ate dinner with them every night, showered promptly after, watched research documentaries and sometimes corny soaps with them for a few hours, had a mug of hot, decaf tea with a nice healthy 10g dose of melatonin, and then he was sent off to his cozy bed chock full of warm blankets and a stuffed animal bestowed unto him with minimal embarrassment on his own part. It made him feel silly, like a little kid, but it would help, Aizawa and Yamada insisted. It was supposed to help.
So why was it 2:41 in the morning and Hitoshi was still wide awake? It was worse knowing that his alarm was going to go off in just over 4 hours and Hitoshi still wasn't any closer to falling asleep. The more minutes went by, the more Hitoshi started to panic. He couldn't quit focusing on how the longer he stayed like this, the less sleep he was going to get, but the more he thought about how little sleep he was going to get, the more he panicked, and the more awake he felt. At this rate, he wasn't going to sleep at all. He was going to be tired all day tomorrow. He was going to fumble in training and bomb the English quiz Yamada was going to give them all because he was going to be so tired, and he-, he-, he-.
At some point, Hitoshi started crying quietly and couldn't stop. He couldn't help it, really. He was just so tired, he just wanted to sleep.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying before the door cracked open and a weak light fell into the room. The blue glow told him that somewhere there was an open window for light to come through, and it came in at an angle over a corner of his room, illuminating his desk and his bookshelf and leaving him to see but remain unseen. At the head of the glow was Yamada, leaning carefully around the door and peering into the room uncertainly.
Hitoshi squeezed his eyes shut tight.
"Hitoshi?" Yamada called gently, and Hitoshi clamped his mouth shut over another impending sob, trying to pretend to be asleep. Yamada persisted, "Honey, are you okay?" He came into the room a little further, finding the bed and sitting down on it.
Squeezing his eyes tighter, Hitoshi felt tears crowd for space along his waterline before running out of room and escaping down his temple, over the bridge of his nose. A second later, a sniffle got caught in his throat, and it came out as a little hic.
"Sweetie, are you dreaming?" Yamada asked next. His voice was so, so soft, and his hand came up to find Hitoshi's face. He placed a palm over Hitoshi's cheek, brought it up and back towards his hairline, thumb catching on some of the wetness gathered under his eyes, and he cooed softly. "Hitoshi, did you have a bad dream?"
And with that, the jig was up. Hitoshi coughed out a loud and sudden sob, one tight in his throat and childish sounding, and he didn't even bother with moving, with trying to hide. He just laid on his side and cried as Yamada began to pet continuously at his hair.
"Oh, oh shh baby. Shh, shh. Tell me what's the matter."
And Hitoshi tried; he opened his mouth and tried, but all that came out was a weak "Pa-" and then Yamada was helping him sit up, holding his arms and pulling him while Hitoshi just held onto him uselessly, even as Yamada struggled with the awkward weight of him. But he managed, and soon, Hitoshi was sitting up but slumped over, leaned forward into Yamada's chest as he cried.
Yamada rubbed his back soothingly, whispering, "Breathe, breathe, breathe. Shh, honey, shhh. What's going on? Please tell me, just tell me and I'll make everything okay again, I promise baby, just shhh."
His pa tended to get like this whenever Hitoshi cried. He tried to keep it from being too often, but he had what Hound Dog called emotional backlog and sometimes he cried when he didn't mean to. In those moments, Yamada liked to keep up a constant stream of reassurances, promises, soothing words and phrases, all in that saccharine, comforting voice that make Hitoshi feel a little more capable of functioning like the 16 year old he is.
"I can't, I can't sleep," Hitoshi cried out, finally, and Yamada nodded, holding him close and cooing. "I've been laying here for, for hours, and I'm so tired, but my body won't fall asleep, and I don't know why. I wanna sleep, I-, I-." Next thing Hitoshi knew he was crying weakly again, a string of sobs let out and lost in his pa's chest.
"Oh, baby. Baby it's okay," Yamada hushed. "Come on, you come with me. You come with me, and we'll make you some sleepy tea, and get you some fast-acting melatonin, and we can read together or watch a movie until you think you can fall asleep, okay? Shh, honey, we'll figure it out. We will, baby, I promise everything's okay. You wanna wake up Dad?"
The words were starting to calm Hitoshi from his tears. He felt bad about asking to wake up Aizawa, but he really needed both his dad and his pa right now. He nodded into Yamada's chest, and Yamada squeezed him around the shoulders as he got them both stood up and walked out to the living room. He made sure Hitoshi was settled snuggly into the couch before fetching him a soft blanket, his favorite one with all the cats, and wrapping it around his shoulders. After, he soothed away at some of the tears still on Hitoshi's face before going back to his and Aizawa's bedroom. A moment later, Aizawa emerged.
"Toshi?" He asked quietly.
Hitoshi turned on the couch to look at his dad, and his eyes welled up again when he saw him, seemingly for no reason. He sniffled sadly as Aizawa came around the side of the couch. "What's going on, kiddo? Can't sleep?"
Hitoshi just shook his head, 'cause his face was all pinched up and he was crying again and he couldn't find a way to talk around it.
"Aw, buddy," Aizawa murmured. He sat by Hitoshi on the couch and scooped him up, beginning to rock him. Hitoshi wished he could say he hated it, wished he could say he felt condescended or patronized, because he was sixteen for Christ's sake, but he couldn't. He just melted into the embrace as Aizawa continued speaking. "Hizashi's gone to get you some meds to help you sleep, okay? Does that sound good?"
Hitoshi nodded, snuggling further into his dad. He could feel his hands rubbing circles on his back over the soft blanket he was still all wrapped up in, and all the comfort of it overwhelmed his senses, made so many more pesky tears slip down, quick and fast and neverending. He whined helplessly into Aizawa's neck, who just pulled him in tighter with a small, soothing hum.
It was a few minutes before Yamada returned, bearing Hitoshi's prescription bottle of meds for his insomnia, which he was only supposed to take for emergencies, as well as a mug of what Hitoshi knew to be sleepytime tea. Hitoshi peered at him from Aizawa's arms, eyeing the prescription bottle wearily. He didn't like taking his meds. They made him foggy, and he knew if he took them this late at night, Aizawa would make him sit out in training the next day. He shook his head without a word and hid his face back in Aizawa's neck.
Aizawa moved a hand up to the back of his head, holding him in place there, which Hitoshi liked. He felt new tears slip down about it. He could tell his dad and his pa were having one of their silent conversations right about now. They always came to a crossroads about forcing the meds onto Hitoshi. It was best for him to take them, sometimes, but in times like these, it was just bound to promise him a bad day tomorrow. He would still be made to wake up at 7am, and that was simply not long enough for the meds to run through him. He'd awake still dosed up and go through the day a zombie. He'd slip into sleep throughout the day, be left ruined for the next night as well.
Anxiety was kickstarting Hitoshi's heart, and he sobbed a little more insistently in his dad's arms, tightening his grip on him. After another moment or two, Aizawa began to pull back, patting lightly at Hitoshi's back. He withdrew obediently and resisted the urge to wipe at his eyes, letting his dad do it for him instead.
Aizawa didn't say anything, and so Hitoshi looked back at Yamada. The pill bottle had disappeared somewhere, and Hitoshi exhaled. He reached his arms out for his pa in relief, and Yamada set the mug of tea down on the coffee table, accepting him back into his lap willingly.
"Shhh, you're okay, sweetie. I know, I know, you're alright," Yamada whispered, and Hitoshi felt his eyelids starting to flutter. He had his chin hooked over Yamada's shoulder, but he could feel Aizawa working on getting the blanket resituated around him, and from somewhere, his stuffed elephant was produced and tucked nicely under his arm. He was allowed to settle there for a moment, rocked and soothed and petted and comforted while he cried out all the last of his tears, before Yamada began to shift him again.
Hitoshi whined again in discontent, but Yamada just hushed him and kept going, Hitoshi completely useless to the process. He felt childish and foggy and well and truly sleepy now, and he didn't want to think too hard about any of it. He got like this sometimes, and it wasn't something he wanted to explore or dissect in his mind. It felt too raw, too fragile, and he was sure he'd only ruin it if he tried to put a name to it.
Aizawa and Yamada seemed to think the same. Or maybe they thought it was normal for a 16 year old to cry and need to be cradled back into quiet, requiring more cuddles and snuggles than any near-adult ever should from their parents.
Eventually, Hitoshi wound up slumped with his back against Yamada's chest, his arms coming around his stomach to hold securely at him. Hitoshi kind of liked this, even as those unpleasant thoughts from before made his brow furrow and a few, uneasy tears well up and start to come down again. He reached up and held onto where Yamada's arms were bracketing him in, resting the side of his face against one and taking a deep breath, feeling it shudder in unevenly before whooshing out, leaving him relaxed and somewhat more content.
At some point during the process, Aizawa had procured a book. One of Hitoshi's books, from the little shelf in his bedroom. It was one of his favorites, the first in a series that he read when he was in the fifth grade. Maximum Ride, by James Patterson. Hitoshi's eyes welled when he saw it, and he squirmed, reaching for it. If he thought he felt young before, the feeling of nostalgia creeping in on him when he was already so fragile pushed him even deeper.
"Hushhh, hushhh, baby," Yamada said, and began to rock him, trying to soothe him.
Hitoshi watched through blurry, overtired eyes, as Aizawa flipped to a page towards the middle of the book. How had he known that Hitoshi had been reading it again? Hitoshi always read it after a bad day, or a bad week, or a bad anything. It comforted him, made him smile when he read over the familiar words. It was purely from overwhelm that the words made him cry again now as Aizawa's voice took up a gentle narration of the story Hitoshi had long since had memorized.
After a few minutes, the excitement cooled, and Hitoshi's tears fizzled out for good. He was still held tight in Yamada's arms, sitting in his lap and stuffed elephant sitting in his. He kept it pressed to his chest with one hand and continued to hold onto Yamada's forearm with the other, arm wrapping around it and keeping it close for him to keep his cheek pressed against. He watched sleepily at Aizawa opposite him, watched him read his favorite book out loud. He was blinking so, so slowly, feeling so, so comfy and so, so safe. Yamada was still rocking him a little, just swaying lightly, back and forth, and Hitoshi just felt so content. He wasn't even comprehending the words Aizawa was reading to him, just hearing the sounds, hearing his dad's gentle, quiet voice, low and sure and steady, and he was being swayed lightly back and forth with Yamada's arms locked tight around him, and his elephant was with him, and the cat blanket was still around him, and whereas before Hitoshi couldn't for the life of him imagine ever falling asleep, he was helpless to do anything but succumb to it now, and he dropped off slowly and quietly with a small exhale, breathing slow and deep and feeling so, so loved.
Hitoshi wasn't sure how long his parents waited to move him after he'd fallen. He woke up briefly when Yamada shifted, getting him lifted into a princess carry. The blanket and his stuffie fell away, but Hitoshi didn't worry. He was sure Dad would get it for him.
Pa settled him neatly back into his bed, cooed quietly at him when he saw that Hitoshi's eyes had reopened to sleepy slits. He pushed Hitoshi's hair back off his forehead, smoothing down over and over until his eyes closed again. He was dozing lightly by the time Dad made it back in with his elephant, and the stuffed animal was fit neatly back into his arms once more. He was sure that Dad and Pa would go back to their own room after this, finish out the night in their own bed and get some more sleep, but for now, they were with him, smoothing his hair down and making sure he got soothed safely into sleep once more.
With a content sigh, Hitoshi fell, and finally, finally, all was well-, just as it always would be so long as he had his Dad and Pa around.