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It was strange how Put your hands up radio hadnt had any of Mic’s signature commentary tonight, Aizawa thought. The music played faintly through a speaker in his ear as he swung across rooftops. His patrol would be over soon, and he could ask Mic when he got home. Nothing sounded better than the warmth of his home and his partner right now.
“Eraserhead, you there?” A voice sounded through that same speaker, overwriting the radio station. It wasn’t Mic.
Aizawa landed on the ledge of a roof, one hand wrapped around his capture scarf, the other reached up to his ear to enable his microphone. “I’m here.” He responded.
“Good, we have reports of a jumper. You’re closest, we need you on the scene.”
“Understood.”
Great. Eraser has dealt with these situations before, but it never got easier. It usually didn’t help that he wasn’t a well known hero. The last time he saved someone from this was before he became a teacher at UA. It had ended with him wrapping the civilian in his capture scarf and waiting for the authorities to arrive. He never was the best with his words.
Regardless of his ability, there was a life on the line. Time was of the essence in these situations. He had to move quickly.
And he did. The operator told him the address and filled him in on the details as he went.
“A civilian on the street below called it in. There aren't yet any police on the scene, a robbery downtown has most of the local forces tied up at the moment. Police and heroes alike.”
“Right.” So he’s on his own with this one. No matter, it’s better not to have an audience anyway. Less pressure, more room to make a connection. No one to back him up if he fails, but he trusts in his reaction time. He won't let this person fall.
Aizawa approached the building from behind. “I see them, going radio silent.” No distractions.
It was dark, from this distance, he couldn't make out color, but he took note of their long hair. Untied and blowing in the wind. They were close to the edge, too close. The tips of their feet floating over the ledge. He couldn't risk startling them, so he made himself known.
His feet hit the concrete, loud and heavy on purpose. Even so, the figure before him didn’t so much as flinch.
Now he had to decide, he could reach out now with his scarf, but be even a second too late and he wouldn't have enough time to cross the rooftop and catch them.
He needed to get closer. Carefully, he took a step forward, again making his presence known with heavy footing. Then another, long stride toward them. They must have heard him now, because their head tilted up, previously staring down at the sidewalk below. Now forward facing, but they didn't turn around. Their back was still to Aizawa. He could see now the color of this person's hair. It was blonde, almost shimmering from the city lights around them.
Before Aizawa could open his mouth, an all too familiar voice sounded in front of him.
“Hey.” Raspy, as if they’d been yelling and lost their voice.
His eyes narrowed before widening in realisation. Leather pants came into his view, and the back print of their T-shirt was worn, but still clearly read, ‘Put Your Hands Up Radio!’
“Hizashi?” His whole body tensed. What the hell was he doing up here?
A hand raised up to rub his neck. “Don’t tell me, you’re stalking me now?” He shifted his feet, moving slightly away from the edge to face the hero. “Miss me that much?” The smile Mic wore was thin and strained, his eyebrows creased, and his eyes showed signs of crying, glossed over and tired. His poor attempt at humor fell flat with his tone.
“What’s going on, Yamada?” Aizawa's free hand reached out toward the other, but he didn't dare step closer. Not yet. Not when he was still too far to catch him if he fell. He had moved away somewhat, that was good. He just needed to keep talking.
Keep talking.
The other let out a choked laugh, closer to a sob than anything. “What’s it look like?” Hizashi turned back to the edge.
Not good.
“It- It looks like you’re trying to kill yourself,” Aizawa risked another step forward, quietly now. “Please, tell me I’m wrong.”
“You shouldn’t be here.” The voice hero's hands balled into fists. “Go home.” His voice sounded nothing like his own, broken and cracking. Hoarse and tired.
So, so tired.
“You know I can’t do that.” No way in hell was he going to walk away from this. Here stood his best friend, his soulmate, trying to leave him as Shirakumo did. Except this time, he could change the outcome. “It doesn't have to be this way. Yamada, why?”
“I…I’m just so tired, Shou.” Hizashi's foot shifted, inching off the concrete. “Of everything. It- It feels like lately, none of my actions are my own.” He dared to peer over his shoulder at his lover. “Like I’m simply going through the motions.”
“So you’re just going to give up?” Aizawa grit his teeth. “Take the easy way out?” He’d had nightmares of losing Hizashi, of being left alone, the last of their trio. In those dreams Present Mic always died a hero. Saving people, or defeated by a villain. But never like this, Aizawa never would’ve imagined it like this.
Hizashi's shoulders tensed. “That’s not what I-”
“You mean the whole goddamn world to me, you know that?” Aizawa shouted.
This was a selfish route to go, he knew that. But it didn’t matter as long as it worked. And it was the truth. “Yamada- I can’t do this without you.” He took another step forward. “You are the reason I’m able to get out of bed every day.” And another. “You’re always driving me, pushing me forward. Urging me to do better.” Closer, just a little bit closer. “I’m sorry for being so stuck in my own head, that I didn’t realize you were hurting too.”
Just as Hizashi turned his head to face him, something tight wrapped around his body. Securing his arms to his sides as he was yanked down from the ledge. Wide, dreary green eyes stared at him now. Almost as if the movement had scared him. “You are my light, Yamada. I won’t let you leave my world in darkness.” Aizawa's knuckles turned white with how tightly they held onto his capture scarf. He couldnt bare to lose another friend. Not now, not ever. And especially not Hizashi. It was now that he could see, face to face with his partner, how his eyes pricked with tears. Aizawa couldn’t remember the last time he saw Hizashi cry. If ever. He didn’t well up over sad movies or tragedies on the news.
He hadn’t even cried at Shirikumos funeral.
What made this so different?
Was this the dam he’d built inside his mind finally breaking?
“I’m sorry.” Hizashi ducked his head, long blonde strands obscuring his face from view. “I never wanted to drag you into my mess-” He choked. “It’s just too much, it’s too much Shou- I didn’t know what else to do.” His nails dug into the skin on his palms. “I just want it to stop. I need It to stop.” His voice cracked.
The Binding cloth loosened around Hizashi, taking its place back on Shota's shoulders. The pressure replaced by Shouta's arms wrapping tightly around Hizashi's chest. “I know.” He let out a deep shaky breath that he hadn’t noticed he was holding. “I know…” He soothed, rubbing circles into Hizashi's back.
His lovers arms remained stuck at his sides, he pressed his head into Shouta's shoulder. Tears began to slip through his eyes despite his best efforts of holding them in.
“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to get through this, Zashi.” He was trying to convince himself just as much as Hizashi. But that didn’t matter, he was off the ledge. He was breathing, albeit ragged breaths, but breathing. And Aizawa could feel his heart beating heavily against his own chest. He was alive. He was safe. “I’m not letting go, you hear me?”
Hizashi shifted, his hands found their way up to the shirt of Aizawa's hero costume.
“I’m here and i’m not letting go.” His words seemed to break something inside Hizashi, like the last drop of water causing the dam to overflow.
Hands with painted nails buried themselves in Shouta's chest, body leaning into his, Shouta welcomed the weight as Hizashi leaned into him. Keeping him upright.
A sob wracked his chest, tears streaming down his face, soaking into Shouta's shirt. He was grateful for the shoulder to cry on, he couldn’t bear to be seen like this, vulnerable, weak.
Aizawa held him tight, didn’t comment when his breathing hitched or another choked sob left his mouth. He simply stayed, rubbing his back, supporting his weight. He couldn’t take away all the weight Hizashi seemed to have on his shoulders, but he could do this.
It took time, but eventually his breathing evened out. It had felt like forever, but start to finish this whole thing had only lasted a few minutes. Maybe 5 or so. Plenty long enough to warrant a check in from the agency.
“Eraserhead, come in, can you give us a status report?”
Aizawa groaned at the voice in his ear, causing Hizashi to tense.
“Sorry.” He said quietly, “Not you, starlight.” He reluctantly pulled from the hug, one arm remained on Hizashis waist as the other reached up to press the device in his ear. Hizashi rubbed at his face, desperate to conceal what he’d let fall apart these last few moments.
“Your-” His voice came out, wrong- Hizashi cleared his throat, and tried again. “Your dispatcher? You were called here..?” He questioned.
A raised finger and a sympathetic look stopped Hizashi in his tracks, Aizawa reserved that look for serious events, ones that require to be handled with care. Like his students, for example. He acted as comfort for many of them throughout the raid where they rescued Eri.
“The police have finished apprehending the criminals responsible for the robbery, we’ll have units heading your way soon.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Aizawa assured. “False alarm.” He lied.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Just someone up here smoking, self destructive but not suicidal.” If he told the truth, he’d have to make an official report, and it could reflect badly on Mic’s work life. Risking revocation of his hero licence and position as a teacher at UA wouldn’t do any good for his mental.
“Right. Copy that, Eraserhead.”
With that, Aizawa pressed the earpiece and then removed it from his ear, placing it into one of his tactical pouches. “That was my last call. I’m off patrol.” He didn’t bother replying to Hizashi's question from before.
“You lied for me?” A small, endearing smile crossed over the blonde's oh so tired features. It was genuine. “Mr. strict on the rules lied to his agency for me? You know that’s breaking at least one law.” The smirk grew on Hizashi's face, his personality beginning to shine through the pain.
“Don’t think this means i’m not taking you to get help later, Zashi.” His stern words did nothing to hide the way his lips upturned into something that almost resembled a smile. Seeing Hizashi happy, after something so scary, he couldn’t help it.
“C’mon.” He placed a hand on Hizashi's cheek. “Let’s get you home.”