Work Text:
His husband’s soft snoring comforts Shouta’s troubled thoughts, if only just a bit. His head feels as if it’s cotton-padded, pounding from all the crying he did earlier. The corners of his eyes are raw and red, burning from the salt of the tears and a lack of sleep. He hasn’t been able to breathe out of his nose since this morning.
Shouta closes his eyes, conjuring up this morning’s painful discovery in his mind’s eye. Kumo, his senior tabby cat, had been in his usual napping spot on the couch, body curled up like a quotation mark. He had looked peaceful . . . and that’s what tipped Shouta off. In recent months, Kumo’s health had been steadily declining causing the tabby to become grumpy whenever he was awake. As Shouta drew closer, heart palpitating, he knew. Laying a hand on top of his body, feeling no warmth or the rise and fall of his chest, only confirmed it.
His beloved cat, his Kumo, was gone.
The last gift from Shirakumo before his untimely demise and now he was dead.
“Shouta, have you seen my⎯ . . .Shouta? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Hizashi’s worried voice had snapped Shouta back to awareness. He blinked, surprised to find that he’s crying, and had turned his head towards Hizashi. His husband’s brow was furrowed with concern before his eyes moved to where Shouta’s hand lay. Understanding and despair had combined with the worry, and Hizashi was suddenly at his side, tucking him against his chest.
The bed shifts, dragging Shouta back to the present as Hizashi rolls onto his side and slings an arm over his chest, tugging himself closer to his side.
“You okay?” Hizashi’s words slur with sleep. He presses a small kiss against Shouta’s cheek before nuzzling his nose against the area.
Shouta sniffles, pushing away the negative memories. “‘M fine. Go back to sleep, ‘Zashi.”
His husband is silent for the longest time, enough to make Shouta think he’s fallen back asleep. He suddenly tightens his hold on Shouta.
“Baby,” he starts, trying to find the right words. “I really think . . . you should just stay home tomorrow. Kayama-senpai and I can take care of your classes.”
“No.”
“Shouta⎯”
“I’ll be fine, ‘Zashi,” Shouta insists. He angles his face towards Hizashi, ignoring the obvious concern etched into his features. “I need to keep busy. And hero life doesn’t stop because of a death.”
Hizashi observes him before sighing tiredly through his nose. He curls his body around Shouta, burying his face into his neck. Without a single word, he trails his fingers over the man’s chest, lightly tracing his flesh.
Shouta’s eyes flutter shut once more, forcing his mind to shut down and focus on his husband’s caresses.
Slowly but surely, he feels himself drifting into unconsciousness until he falls into an uncomfortable sleep, his dreams full of darkness.
~~
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shouta releases a tired sigh. His entire being is overcome with exhaustion, shoulders taut with tension. A tiny part of him wishes he had heeded Hizashi’s pleas and stayed home. His eyes travel to the digital clock hanging off the wall.
There are forty-five minutes left of class before the lunch bell rings . . . if he can just get through it, he can hide away in the teacher’s lounge until fifth period.
He ignores the worried glances being tossed his way. For as troublesome and dense his students can be, they’re not stupid. They can tell something is wrong with him. He’s been cold all morning, keeping them at an arm’s length and refusing to entertain their normal nonsense.
Shouta knows his students would be sympathetic to his loss; hell, they would probably even insist he goes home and take a couple of days off.
But he’s a Pro-Hero and as such, he has a duty and a responsibility to uphold a certain standard in a room full of potential heroes. If he does . . .if he does, he’ll be a failure to them. Like how he failed Shirakumo⎯
Pushing the intruding thoughts away, Shouta pulls out his planner from inside the podium, clearing his throat to get the class’ attention.
“Alright, listen up. We still have a lot to go over before you head to lunch.” Flipping the cover open, Shouta goes to turn the page to the correct date when a piece of paper flutters out and drifts to the floor, sliding a few inches to rest in front of Hagakure’s desk.
Shouta sighs nasally. He walks the short distance, bending down to pick up the unknown paper only to pause his movements upon realizing what he’s looking out. A crudely colored drawing of a cat stares back at him. The cat is in a resting position with a yellow halo circled atop his head. ‘I’m sorry for yor loss’ is scribbled in the corner in Eri’s familiar handwriting, with misspellings in the kanji.
Shouta can feel the beginnings of tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he tries desperately to blink them away.
Hagakure squeals above him, unaware of his sudden inner turmoil. “Sensei, what a cute drawing! Eri-chan is so talented. Ah, but does this mean you have a cat, Aizawa-sensei? Can I see it?”
Pull yourself together, he berates himself. The logical side of his mind is screaming at him, chastising him for allowing his emotions to get the better of him. He has to stand up! He has to push aside these feelings and proceed with the lesson.
He has to . . .he has to𑁋
A soft sob bubbles out of his mouth as a tear falls onto the paper with a wet ‘plop’ silencing Hagakure.
He can tell that the rest of the students are now staring at him but he can’t bring himself to care any longer. Another sob tears out of him, harsh and full of despair.
He clutches onto the drawing, crumpling the side, as the bitter reality sets in that Kumo is no longer here. It’s more than just the fact that the last piece of Shirakumo he had is gone: no more will he hear Kumo’s hoarse meows or feel the weight of his body on Shouta’s lap, purring contently while he grades papers.
He’ll return home to a house without Kumo there to greet him.
Distantly, he can hear the sounds of someone wailing and, to his dismay, they’re coming from him. The dam he had been holding back since yesterday comes flooding out as he gives in to his grief. He tries to muffle his sobs by covering his mouth with a hand but he can’t stop the tears that fall like rain, leaving wet trails on his scruffy cheeks.
He's a pitiful mess, he knows it but Shouta can't silence his breaking heart. His cries erupt from deep within his soul, his poorly taped together heart shattering. Some of his students surround him, questioning how they can help but Shouta can’t make his mouth form the words.
“Shouta!”
Hizashi’s voice rings through the room. Soon, his husband’s arms are wrapped around him, burying Shouta’s face in his chest. His whispering soothing words but he doesn’t hear what they are, too lost in his own despair. Hizashi helps him stand before ushering him out of his classroom. He catches a glimpse of black hair as they walk out the door and a small part of him is relieved to see that Kayama has taken command, calling for order.
With his class taken care of, Shouta allows himself to be led away, held tightly in Hizashi’s arms.
~~
Shouta cradles a cup of hot tea, a blanket, and Hizashi, draped over his shoulders. He stares at the steam escaping from the cup, the heat warming his hands. He sniffles, wincing from a slight throb in his head. From the moment he left the classroom, Shouta had cried. He cried until his throat was raw and the corners of his eyes and tip of his nose were red. He cried until he was dizzy with grief. He cried until his head ached and he had no tears left to give.
“I shouldn’t have fallen apart like that,” he mutters. “I made my kids worry.”
“Sho…”
“Don’t, ‘Zashi. I’m a pro. I should’ve been able to keep my mental health in check.” His hands tighten around his mug. “I’m embarrassed.”
“That’s enough, Shouta,” Hizashi insists. “Those kids adore you, they’ll understand. Don’t think about it right now.” He presses a kiss against Shouta’s temple. “Just focus on your health.”
Shouta is about to agree when there’s a loud knock on their door. The pair shoot confused looks at each other before Hizashi reluctantly untangles himself from Shouta and makes his way to the entrance hall. He hears the door open along with a familiar voice: Iida.
He strains to hear what is being said but he’s too far away and too tired to make it out. He instinctively curls up tighter under the blanket, his embarrassment returning twofold. Shouta really doesn’t want to face his students right now, not when his momentary breakdown is still fresh.
After a minute, Hizashi pokes his head in the entryway of the living room.
“You’ve come some little visitors! You up for some company?” he asks, a twinkle in his eyes.
Great…
Shouta heaves a sigh, setting his cup down. “Sure, let them in. Best to get this over with.”
Hizashi stifles a chuckle, disappearing back down the hall. He hears multiple voices excuse themselves for the sudden intrusion before a thunder of footsteps are heading down the hall and into the living room. Shouta’s not surprised to see that every student of 1-A is here, each wearing a level of concern on their faces.
Iida steps forward, arms chopping through the air. “Sensei, forgive our intrusion but we had to make sure you were okay!”
“Midnight-sensei told us what happened. I’m…I’m really sorry for upsetting you, Aizawa-sensei,” Hagakure apologizes, voice trembling.
Shouta raises a hand, his heart feeling like it’d just been stabbed. “Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry. I should’ve kept myself more composed.”
Uraraka rushes forward. “No, Sensei, don’t apologize either! It’s okay to be upset when you lose someone important to you.”
“Which is why we want to help cheer you up, even if it’s just for a little bit,” Midoriya smiles, motioning with a small batch of boxes in his hands. Shouta hadn’t noticed that the boy had been holding anything.. “We ordered some pizza and Kacchan brought some movies from his collection for us to watch.”
“Tch, shut up, Deku!”
“But it’s only if you’re up to it, Sensei,” Midoriya continues, “if you’d rather be alone, we understand.”
Shouta’s heart gives a tiny squeeze. Unsure of how to process this strange warmth in his chest, he rubs the back of his neck with a hand.
“It’d feel wrong to send you lot away when you went through all this trouble,” he responds gruffly.
His students give a small cheer before filing into the room. Midoriya sets the pizza boxes on the coffee table, careful not to knock over Shouta’s forgotten cup of tea. Hizashi snickers, coming around the couch and plopping back down in his seat. Shouta shoots him a warning glare but that doesn’t deter his husband’s cheesy smile.
For the next hour, as the movie plays and the students munch on pizza, Shouta feels himself relaxing more and more. The grief was still prevalent but had now been sequestered to the back of his mind, allowing him a bit of peace.
As the credits began to roll, Midoriya turned in his seat to face his teacher, carefully keeping his expression neutral.
“Sensei…we want to give you something.”
He reaches into his back pocket before producing a crumpled envelope, holding it out for Shouta to take. He cautiously takes it, eyeing his students as he slowly opens the envelope. Inside is a handful of bills.
Shouta starts shaking his head. “I can’t accept this. Here, take it back.”
“We want you to have it, Aizawa-sensei, kero,” Asui insists, a determined glint in her large eyes.
Kirishima nods. “You’ve done so much for us. Now it’s our turn to give back to you! It’s the manly thing to do!”
“But what do you expect me to do⎯” Shouta starts only to realize what the answer himself.
“When you’re ready, we hope you’ll use it to adopt another cat, one that needs you as much as you need them,” Midoriya responds softly.
His throat tightens.
“I…I don’t know what to say,” Shouta admits.
Hizashi reaches across, laying a hand over Shouta’s. “You don’t have to say anything, Shou.”
Tears pool in Shouta’s eyes, burning the cracked corners but he couldn’t bring himself to care. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry in front of others. For Kumo and Shirakumo. For himself.
For being blessed with some amazing kids.