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Hizashi can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen Shouta cry. At their wedding, after they lost Oboro, when finding out Oboro was the Warp Gate villain, and right now. Tears are streaming down his face as he slowly munches on a rice ball that Eri and Mic made him. Hizashi watches the bob of his adams apple as he swallows and wipes his tears. It’s unnerving how silent Shouta is during all of this, and his silence permeates the room. It’s been nearly 12 hours and Shouta still hasn’t said a word, or indicated what happened to cause his flashback on patrol the night before.
They eat in silence for only a moment longer, but Hizashi’s brain is buzzing and it’s getting louder so he has to fill the silence and he does, just starts talking about his day. Eri’s wide, innocent eyes meet his and it puts some of Hizashi’s anxieties at ease. Leave it to Eri to calm him down without even realizing it.
Shouta listens, Hizashi can tell the difference between his active listening and his dazed-out half listening. It’s nice that his husband is present here with them, no memories snapping at his heels for the moment.
But he does look exhausted, if the slow blinking and slump in his shoulders is anything to go by.
So they finish eating and crawl into their fort, Eri leading the way and Shouta inching slowly after her. He finally tucks himself in the corner they designated for him and goes for his sleeping bag, crawling inside and zipping himself up. Hizashi grins at that and clambers inside last, flicking down the blanket flap of the fort so the lights become muted. Hizashi watches his husband lose some tension at that.
“Daddy, you can borrow Winslow if you want!” She holds out her well-loved stuffed Panda (a gift from Iida) and Shouta’s eyes soften, a crinkle of his smile warming his usually passive face. He works his arms free from the sleeping bag and takes the Panda and signs, ‘thank you.’
Eri signs ‘you’re welcome’ back and Hizashi’s heart nearly explodes at the scene playing out in front of him.
He squeals and gathers a giggling Eri into a hug. When they pull apart Eri glances over and suppresses a chuckle, pressing her finger to her lips. Hizashi looks over to find an already asleep Aizawa.
It’s a miracle, frankly, that they got his husband to sleep before 7pm.
_____
Aizawa awakes to a deep, warm feeling blooming in his chest. He cracks open a painful eye and sees his family sleeping soundly beside him. The cocoon of warmth envelopes him again and he sleeps once more.
The next return to consciousness is a jolt of pain, lightning sharp and breath-stealing. Shouta holds his breath lest it come out in a whoosh of sound.
He doesn’t want to make a sound.
He can’t make a sound.
He lets out his breath slowly and lets his muscles slowly un-tense.
He’s been aching so much more this past week. With a combination of the rapid weather change and his current issue he’s barely sleeping or eating and the pain is prodding him swiftly and unrelentingly.
Today he feels more like a drum that someone is pounding on.
“Sho?”A too-loud, too-close voice asks and Aizawa can’t stop the flinch but he muzzles the yell of surprise into a gasp.
Hizashi doesn’t have his hearing aids in, and he’s leaning over Shouta and he’s in bed with no memory of how he got there. Hizashi looks sleepy and it’s still dark outside. Had he been in such a haze of pain just now that he didn’t know where he was?
Delightful.
‘Sho? Are you alright?’ Hizashi signs instead. Shouta can see the outline of his body against the moonlight as he sways with the movement of language.
It brings another ache to him. One nestling in his chest and worming inside his head.
He’s too good for you.
‘Ish’ he spells out.
‘Physical pain or mental pain?’ Hizashi signs, what he can see of his face is painted in that concentrated look his husband gets.
Shouta wants to reply both but settles for ‘my legs were cramping.’
Hizashi is up in an instant calling “painkillers!” before the bathroom light throws blades into Shouta’s eyes. Once he blinks away the spots, he sees Hizashi illuminated, gold hair down and in a t-shirt and shorts. No crazy spikes on his clothes or hair in a not-so-soft swoop.
Just plain Hizashi.
His husband deposits three pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
“You should be able to rest after those kick in.” Hizashi whispers.
Aizawa takes them in one swallow and slowly lays back down and closes his throbbing eyes.
Hizashi crawls back into bed with him and says, “it’s 2:30, so I’ll wake you up again at 5, okay?”
Aizawa nods and the aches begin to dull, which pull him downward, into sleep.
“Daddy! Papa!” Eri squeals as she charges into the dark bedroom, “you’re late to get up!”
Shouta pops open an eye and prods his husband who is still snoring peacefully, a puddle of drool on his pillow. This rouses Hizashi just as Eri’s words sink in.
Late.
He shoots upright and stares at the clock. 06:45.
Shit.
Ignoring the flair of pain that shoots down his spine as Aizawa rocks into a standing position, he places a hand on Eri’s back and guides her out of the room when he hears Hizashi squeal and run to the bathroom to shower and prepare his hero costume. Aizawa usually rolls out of bed right before he has to leave, since he doesn’t need to do anything special with his costume.
Eri sits down while Aizawa pops waffles into the toaster and hurriedly grabs out the syrup, butter, and Eri’s pre-packed lunch. Thank god for small miracles.
Usually they’d have time to make pancakes with smiley faces and Shouta could sit down with his tea, but everything was thrown off today and it’s setting Shouta’s nerves alight.
He looks Eri over and sees she’s already dressed and sends her the warmest smile he can through the ache in his muscles.
“Daddy, I’m coming to school with you and papa today? Who am I gonna be with?”
Shouta nods, and goes to sign before frowning. What he has to explain to her will take more than the JSL she knows. Eri is wary of adults and there are only a few staff members that both Shouta and Hizashi agree they want Eri alone with. Cementos, Thirteen, Shuzenji, and Midnight. All Might had offered many times but both of them didn’t feel comfortable leaving her with a man who often encouraged Midoriya’s self-destructive behaviors.
He clears his throat and leans down to her level, looking into those glittering rubies. He just has to say it.
Just say it.
Any minute now, Shouta.
Eri is watching him expectantly.
“You’ll be with Midnight.” He croaks and Eri beams, her voice raising in pitch, “Really! She’s so nice! And daddy, your voice is back!”
Aizawa wants to respond but his throat is closing up and he’s trembling, so he stands and heads to the toaster, hiding a flinch when the waffles pop up.
He tosses them onto a plate and spreads the butter, adds the syrup, and places a fork in front of Eri.
“Thanks!” She says before digging in, giving Shouta the time to escape into the bedroom and sink shakily onto the bed. He’s digging his knuckles into his eyes and–
there’s a hand on the back of his neck and holding him down, slamming his head against the carpet and flicks of blood paint the tan surface.
There’s a gigantic hand on the back of his head, tangling into his hair and tugging at the roots, screeching, beating his head mercilessly into the pavement and he’s going to go blind, he’ll lose his quirk, he’ll lose everything.
The man in his ear is whispering, “don’t say another damn word.”
The door opens and Shouta’s head snaps up.
Hizashi, it’s just Hizashi.
“Shouta?” He asks, putting in his hearing aids and wearing his hair in a half bun which is possibly Shouta’s favorite look on him.
Hizashi walks over but Shouta can’t hold back the flinch. He’s looming and Shouta aches all over from whatever last beating he took and he’s so fucking tired and he can’t stop thinking about his father looming over him the same way-
“Sorry, Shouta. I won’t come any closer if you don’t want me to.” And Hizashi actually sits on the floor.
“You’re going to be okay, Shou. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you. No one here is gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”
Aizawa only listens to Hizashi because he can’t afford to get lost in the memories again. He shakes his head to rid it of Normu's giant hand and stands shakily, signing, ‘sorry. I had to speak to Eri.’
He hopes this can be enough of an explanation because he can’t do much more communicating, even via sign language.
Which begs the question how the hell he’ll teach today.
He will deal with that later.
Hizashi looks understanding and asks, “it triggered you?”
Shouta nods and turns away to change, then he grabs his sleeping bag and capture weapon.
“I’m-” Hizashi begins but Shouta stops the rest of what he’s sure is an apology with one hand and shakes his head. He doesn’t want Hizashi to apologize for Shouta’s own stupid problem. It pisses him off.
Hizashi sighs but nods and leaves to help Eri into her coat.
Aizawa shuts the bedroom door, hoping the shadows won’t follow.
_____
Hizashi is trying not to panic at the moment. Shouta was in bad shape this morning, a pain flare-up is evident in his stiff posture and carefully neutral expression. Sometimes reading Shouta so well makes his chest ache. He just wants his husband to take some time off to heal his body and mind, but Shouta won’t stop.
Eri is silent on his right, Shouta on his left, and Hizashi chattering away in the middle, trying to drown out the silence that feels anything but comfortable today. They arrive at the school, and once they’re at the teachers lounge Shouta slinks onto the couch and promptly falls asleep, quicker than Hizashi has seen him do in days.
Eri covers her mouth to hide her giggle and begins pulling crayons and hero coloring pages that Midoriya gave her out of her backpack.
She sits across from Hizashi and beams before getting to work on coloring Hawks’ wings. Hizashi returns her grin with as much gusto as he can. Eri is always a grounding presence for the pair of them, and the voice hero is so grateful for her presence in their lives.
The staff begin to filter in, and they tiptoe around the sleeping erasure hero to their desks. Nimiri comes up to Hizashi’s desk and greets Eri first, crouching down to her level. “Hi sweetheart,” she begins, glancing down at her drawing.
“Hi Midnight! I am drawing the number 2 hero!”
“And doing a great job!” She replies, ruffling her hair before standing and leaning against Hizashi’s desk and looking the voice hero over.
“No signature swoop today?” She asks, eyeing his hair.
“My dads slept in today!” Eri teases, smirking at a squawking Hizashi.
“I didn’t hear my alarm and Shouta was dead to the world!”
Midnight tilts her head at Aizawa, “how is he? Not sleeping much?”
Hizashi nods, “he’s not speaking either.”
“Still? The quirk hasn’t worn off?”
News travels fast at UA.
“What quirk?” Eri asks, dropping her crayon.
“You told the kids it was a quirk?” Midnight correctly assumes Eri's questions.
“Why did you tell Deku’s class it was a quirk, papa?” Eri asked.
“‘Cause daddy is a private person, Eri. He doesn’t like people knowing about his personal life.”
“You can say that again. Remember in 3rd year when he finally told us he was adopted? None of us knew for years!” Midnight chuckles.
“He’s never even told me about his parents!” Eri exclaims as All-Might throws the door open and Shouta shoots up into a sitting position. He looks around wildly for the disturbance.
Hizashi hurries to his side and kneels down, signing a quick, ‘you okay?’
Shouta nods and puffs out a silent breath.
“Aizawa-kun! I heard a quirk stole your voice! Did the effects wear off yet?” Yagi comes up to him, even in his deflated state he still manages to loom. Aizawa looks a second from bolting but he merely shakes his head. Yagi nods and says, “I can take your practical class again today if needed, the kids are doing pretty well practicing their new techniques.”
Yeah, and what happened last time you promised you’d be there for a practical course, Yagi? Hizashi thinks, only barely hiding his scowl as he watches his husband shake his head and get to his feet. Hizashi watches how painful it is for him, but doesn’t say a word or help him stand, not in front of everyone like this.
God forbid Shouta let anyone help him.
“Bye Daddy! Have a good class and say hi to Deku for me!” Eri calls from her place at Hizashi’s desk. He waves to her and manages a half-smile before limping out of the room.
“Is he alright?” Yagi asks, turning those dark eyes to Hizashi.
“chronic pain,” Hizashi replies, “you know, from USJ.”
He knows it’s a low-blow. He knows Yagi already blames himself for not being at the USJ, for abandoning Shouta, Thirteen, and all those kids. But frankly, Hizashi doesn’t care. He wasn’t there to protect his husband and Hizashi isn’t over it. Though Kamino Ward had come and gone and All-Might has been retired for a few months, the state that Shouta has been in off and on since the USJ has left Hizashi worried. He knew the moment he stepped into the hospital room and saw the heavy bandaging, the doctor’s cautionary words that if his quirk ever works again, it will be significantly weakened, the casts and multiple IVs attached to his husband's papery skin…
Well, suffice it to say that day changed their “new normal.” Now, Shouta’s pain is more frequent. His PTSD reared its head and often leaves him unable to sleep even when he’s exhausted, or suffering days of intense chronic pain where he can barely move, let alone teach or go on patrol. And now this, the selective mutism that Hizashi hasn’t seen from him since their own days at UA, since Oboro was lost…
Hizashi can’t forgive Yagi. Not yet at least.
He heads back to his desk to leave Yagi to trudge to his own.
“Little listener, will you be okay to hang out with Midnight while I go to my class?”
Eri nods, turning to Nemiri, who reaches across her desk to ruffle her hair. Hizashi gets up and grabs his backpack, flashing a grin at his little girl before heading to his English lessons.
_____
Class 1-A gets to their seats with their usual rukus. His two main problem children are arguing (read: Bakugou is arguing with a blustering Midoriya) and Shouta watches from his place at the podium. His nap rid him of some of the anxiety from this morning, but his body feels like one whole exposed nerve. He elects to sit at the chair at his desk so he can at least rest his throbbing legs and back. There’s not much to be done about his pounding headache that rests just over the tender scar of his right eye or the tingling numbness in his elbow. The class sits down and Iida stands from his seat to call quiet so Aizawa can speak.
Shouta stands, biting back a groan. He walks around his desk and carefully leans against the podium, all too aware of the dozens of eyes following his movements.
‘I still can’t speak today, Iida, translate please?’ Aizawa signs and the boy jumps to his feet and begins translating for him.
‘Today is a study hall, but I want you actually working, no goofing off.’ He shoots Denki and Kirishima, who are playing a game of hang man on a scrap of paper, his deadliest gaze. ‘If you need me, tap my sleeping bag.’
When Iida finishes translating the class erupts into conversation and the noise increase only serves to tighten the vice around his skull. He catches Midoriya’s pinched gaze, along with Iida who is deep in thought with his notes unopened. He manages a few deep breaths as he climbs into his sleeping bag and zips it up as far as it will go.
The class doesn’t disturb him, though Shouta can’t sleep. Each time he closes his eyes, his mind is back in that house. He’s too afraid to drop off while the others close by incase he’s visited by more disturbing dreams. So he lays on the unforgiving floor, listens to his class work on various projects, and tries not to think.
It’s a pity that his brain is a static-filled radio, with no turnable dials.
When the bell rings and Shouta can barely unzip his sleeping bag due to the rattling pain in his head/legs/elbow/eye/shoulder/chest, Hizashi walks in and crouches down, that sad smile on his lips that Shouta hates.
“Painkillers and water. Drink that whole thing.” His husband replies with no preamble and Shouta sits himself up and nods, signing a quick ‘thanks’ before he downs the pills and water in three gulps.
“Feeling okay?” Hizashi tries his best whisper but it’s still loud in Shouta’s aching head.
He shrugs which pulls the pain to his shoulder and neck.
“Midnight has to teach the next class, can you stay with Eri until your next class?”
Shouta nods. Of course he can, he’s not a invalid. He wants to say as much to Hizashi but his hands hurt too much to move.
Hizashi unzips the sleeping bag for him (mind reader) and Shouta crawls out, getting to his feet with some popping of his joints.
“Yagi could take your practical class again?”Hizashi poses, but Shouta shakes his head quickly, tucking the sleeping bag under his arm. He just has to push through this day then he can go home. Plus, he will not leave his students with a man who is fine with them endangering their bodies to get better. Not again. He’s let his kids down enough this semester.
He’s not being parental either, shut up.
‘I’ll be fine. I’ll just watch.’ He signs, though pain stabs through his elbow as he does the JSL.
Hizashi levels him with a gaze that Shouta refuses to return.
He walks Hizashi to his next class before signing, ‘stop worrying, see you tonight after patrol’ before heading back to the teachers lounge.
Eri is waiting for him at his desk, her legs swinging on the too-tall chair. She’s playing with her Present Mic and All Might action figures.
“Daddy!!” She squeals when she sees him and the few teachers who don’t have a class look up, shooting him a small smile before going back to their grading.
Shouta waves at her and sits behind his desk, next to her and looks her over. She looks happy and relaxed, watching him with her wide ruby gaze.
“How was class?”
Shouta gives a thumbs-up and Eri nods.
“Daddy, why don’t you have an action figure?” She asks, gesturing to the collection she has.
Shouta chuckles soundlessly and grabs out a scrap of paper to write, ‘cause I’m an underground hero, Eri. I don’t have any merchandise.’
She reads the paper and frowns, “but daddy, you’re an important hero!”
Important? Shouta thinks on this, but sighs and replies on the paper, ‘no one is supposed to remember me. I’m supposed to be invisible. That’s how I get my job done.’
_____
“You’re supposed to be invisible! That’s our rule, Shouta. You don’t get in my way, and I don’t get in yours. But you had to sit there and question my parenting, so you know the punishment!”
“Father, don’t. I have a presentation tomorrow.”
“Too bad.” He growled, looming over his son and gripping him by the neck, his eyes glowing red and Shouta’s voice is extinguished. He tosses Shouta into his bedroom and locks the door behind him.
Shouta Aizawa sits curled in his bed an hour later, his knees pulled to his chest and trying to speak. He feels like a goldfish out of water, gasping for words that never come. Father’s words are ringing in the back of his skull like the fading notes of a gong, reverberating around his cerebellum until he couldn’t take it anymore.
Hizashi greets Shouta at the school's entrance the following morning and Shouta hunches his shoulders and sighs.
“What’s wrong?” Hizashi questions just as Oboro sprints up behind him and wraps an arm around his shoulder. Shouta rolls his eyes and pushes his friend off of him.
“What’s wrong?” Hizashi repeats.
Shouta shrugs.
“One of those days, huh?” Oboro asks, a grimace of sympathy that Shouta doesn’t want.
‘Presentation’ Shouta signs, shrugging his shoulders helplessly.
“I’ll talk to sensei and see if you can go tomorrow.” Oboro offers with Hizashi eagerly nodding and grinning with a dazzling mouth full of braces.
Shouta shrugs again, but signs ‘sure.’
Oboro trots off to the classroom to talk to their sensei but Hizashi pulls Shouta aside, mumbling under the din of the students, “We have your back, Sho. Always.”
Shouta doesn’t know why he’s thinking of that memory tonight, perhaps it’s the way Hizashi is looking at him. He’s got that desperate look in his eye that is oh so familiar.
“Sho, let’s go home, please.”
It’s humiliating. No one at the precinct knew JSL and his hands were too in pain to write his report down. So he had to call in his husband in the dead of night to come and translate for him.
He stands from the bench and nearly topples if not for his husband’s firm grip on his elbow. The officer on Night Shift duty nods as they leave the precinct.
‘Sorry you had to come all the way down here.’ Shouta signs with difficulty, his hands are shaking so terribly.
“It’s not that, Shouta. It’s the fact that you chose to go on patrol after the day you’ve had. Of course you would get hurt.” He tuts at the blood caked into his hair and between his fingers.
“Any other injuries? And Shouta, it’s 3:45 in the morning, so don’t lie.”
He couldn’t lie if he tried. He is tired of lying to Hizashi and to himself.
‘Wrist and elbow’
“Did you bang it on something?” Hizashi asks as they get into the car.
‘Wall.’ Is all Shouta signs before they’re driving down the road and Hizashi can’t read him as easily. Shouta lays his head back and wills the nausea to fade.
He can’t believe he let a petty villain get the drop on him. He’s seeing his father on every street corner and in the faces of strangers. It’s distracting and (though Shouta would never admit it) terrifying.
They pull up to the teachers' dorms and Hizashi says, “I asked Shinso to stay in the dorm while Eri sleeps. He’s a night owl and I gave him the morning off.”
Acid guilt fills his stomach. His own pupil having to see him like this, AND to drag him out this late at night. What if Eri had a nightmare?
Shinso is on his phone when they enter, playing some game. He stands and looks over his mentor.
“You okay, sensei?” Shinso asks, keeping his voice at a low murmur to not wake Eri.
Aizawa nods, glad to not see pity in his pupil’s gaze, only understanding.
“I’ll walk you back to the 1-A dorm.” Hizashi says, then turns to Shouta, “clean up and I’ll be back soon.”
They leave and Shouta’s shoulders crumble. He wants to collapse right there on the rug, but he has to drag this flesh prison he calls a body to the shower or he won’t get up again. He turns on the water and stares into the gathering steam on the mirror until his reflection is blurred and warped.
He starts stripping, each movement pulling on his screaming joints.
Luckily there’s a bench in the shower and Shouta sits himself down and fully under the scalding spray. The water shakes off some of the clinging shadows but cannot wash away the prickling paranoia he’s felt since his last patrol.
He closes his eyes and remembers seeing the man down that alley, seeing that look in his eyes and the malevolent grin on his lips. It had been the same grin, Shouta was sure of it. The same one his father wore when he squeezed the air out of Shouta’s lungs, when he erased his voice with a simple glow of his eyes, when he slammed Shouta’s face into the carpet over and over again to ‘get rid of that nasty quirk.’
Shouta’s eyes open as an electric shock fizzles down his spine. Someone is in the room with him, they’re going to hurt him, stay quiet, stay silent, don’t be seen, it’s easier this way, shut up shut up Shouta don’t give him a reason to–
“Sho? Can I jump in the shower with you? I want to check your injuries!” It’s just Hizashi. Shouta repeats until his husband pulls back the shower curtain and his smile falters. Whatever he sees on Shouta’s face (or maybe it’s the way he’s sitting paralized against the too-hot spray) makes his brow crumple.
Congratu-fucking-lations Shouta.
“Can I jump in or do you want some alone time?”
Shouta raises his aching hands and gestures to come in. He can’t be alone or he’ll get dragged back into the awaiting jaws of memory.
Hizashi is out of his clothes and slipping off his hearing aids before stepping in front of Shouta, giving him a great view of his supple ass. He wishes he had the capacity to get down on his knees to make his husband feel so good, but alas, there’s no way his body (or Hizashi) would allow for it. He settles for reaching a trembling, still-bloody hand to Hizashi’s waist to pull him closer. His husband complies and holds Shouta close, though the man is still sitting, he’s able to pull Shouta’s head to his chest.
“Why did you go out tonight? You know how reckless it was in your condition.” Hizashi shouts over the water, pulling back to level him with his stern gaze. Shouta meets his gaze and shakes his hands free to reply, ‘I have a job to do.’
Hizashi snorts and moves a bit so Shouta is under the spray again. It’s doing wonders for his screaming muscles.
“Sho, Sho,” Hizashi shakes his head, grabbing the shampoo and squeezing some into his hand before lathering up Shouta’s hair. The fingers in his hair are both frightening and grounding, which is fun .
“A part of your job is taking care of yourself. You can’t just-” Hizashi waves his hands which spray flecks of shampoo everywhere, “go racing off to get yourself hurt just because you think it’s your duty. It’s your duty to stay alive and not die in some back alley away from your family.” Hizashi’s voice raises in pitch and Shouta can hear the fear there. He knows his husband worries about this a lot, and getting a call at 3am wasn’t doing anything to help his nerves.
Shouta signs back, ‘I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to go.’
It was. Shouta can admit that. His chronic pain reached its peak during his practical class today and he nearly collapsed on the course he’d set up for 1-A. He’d managed to make it through the day with a combination of strong painkillers and sheer stubbornness, which left him to nap before patrol and feel okay enough to go out.
And he got his hands smashed underfoot and a kick to the face for it.
He wants to argue with Hizashi that at least he caught the guy but that wouldn't make Hizashi any happier.
His hands were throbbing and a cloudy numbness settled across his cerebellum. He sunk into Hizashi’s care, feeling hands caress his sore muscles and slowly wash off the blood and dirt until he was left with only some bruised fingers and a stabbing headache. Hizashi helped him out of the shower and into their fluffiest towels, bundling him off to the bedroom and helping him lay down. Shouta did without complaint, only letting out a low groan in the back of his sore throat. Hizashi smiles and brings him one of his sweatshirts. It’s bright yellow and has a canary dressed as Present Mic on the front, with a speech bubble that says “hello listeners!”
‘You and Eri really rocked it with that gift,’ Mic nods to the sweatshirt and Shouta chuckles silently. He pulls it over his head and thinks about the sound Hizashi made when he opened the sweatshirt for his birthday.
Sushi jumps onto the bed with a tiny merp, purring when she sees Shouta already snuggled in the covers. She picks her way to him, swishing her striped tail expectantly. He scratches behind her ears, even though his fingers ache. He watches his husband pull on pajamas and climb into bed with him.
Sushi’s purring seems amplified by the silence.
Shouta can’t go on like this. He’s tired of not having a voice, of letting fear control him. He’s exhausted, he hurts, and he can’t stop thinking about his father and those glowing eyes (eyes too much like his own.)
‘Zashi?’ Shouta spells out, the tremble in his hands lessening slightly as his stiff muscles give way to the soft mattress and the painkillers doing their thing.
‘Yeah, Sho?’ Hizashi signs after setting his hearing aids on the nightstand.
‘I’m not okay. I feel fucked up.’ Shouta admits, not meeting his husband’s gaze, ‘I’m so tired.’
He doesn’t cry this time, but when Hizashi pulls him close and whispers (albeit a bit of a stage whisper) “you’re not fucked up baby, you’re dealing with so much. But you’re not dealing with it alone, you never have been.”
Shouta nods but doesn’t lift his head, content to keep it pillowed on Hizashi’s lavender-scented chest.
“Can I ask you a bit about it, and you can just nod or shake your head?”
Shouta nods.
“Does this have something to do with those times at UA when you would go quiet?”
Shouta nods.
“Did someone hurt you at home back then?”
Shouta sucks in a breath, then nods.
Hizashi’s breath stutters but he plants a kiss to Shouta’s damp hair.
“Okay, okay. Did you see someone who hurt you last patrol when you were triggered?”
Shouta hesitates, then shakes his head. He did and he didn’t.
“So… someone who reminded you of that person?” Hizashi, beautiful, perceptive Hizashi asks.
Shouta nods.
“Was it a family member who hurt you? Your adopted family?”
Shouta pulls back to look Hizashi in the eye. He hasn’t told anyone. How can he? Hizashi will know just how fucked up Shouta really is.
He already does, dumbass. A voice in his head reminds him.
“You don’t have to answer-”
Shouta nods, then lifts shaky hands to sign, ‘I’m not adopted.’
Hizashi frowns at this and Shouta buries his face again, signing, ‘tired.’
“Okay, let’s rest babe. Thank you for opening up to me. And I already called us off work and patrol tomorrow. We’re staying in with Eri and spending the day in bed.”
Shouta shoots up to protest but Hizashi chuckles his colorful laugh and responds with his quirked lilt, “no no, Sho. No arguing. It’s already done. So rest now. I’ll be here to chase away any dreams.”
Shouta’s first instinct is to thrash away from this kindness, to push through the pain and move on, dammit. But Hizashi wraps his arms around Shouta and he hums under his breath. His quirked humming fills the room in beautiful notes of color.
So Shouta places a kiss on Hizashi’s hand, then is rocked to sleep on the shores of Hizashi’s voice.