Archive of Our Own ^beta

Aizawa should have seen the signs. Maybe he did. Maybe all along he saw them but refused to believe them. Maybe after all the years together he refused to believe what was right in front of him. Maybe his heart couldn’t take another break. Not after…everything.

The first hint that something was wrong was nothing out of the ordinary. Or perhaps after all the time they spent together, Aizawa never considered it not normal. Hizashi had come home late with his clothes smelling of alcohol, his hair lank and his cheeks flushed. Normally, a drunk Hizashi was loud, louder than he usually was, and told the worst jokes. Even Emi wouldn’t have laughed at them. But Aizawa did every time, a small tug on his lips and an amused breath through his nose.

But this time, Hizashi quietly slipped through the apartment and went straight to their bed without a word. Even Hitoshi, the boy coming to live with them during his second term, cocked a confused eyebrow from where he was doing his homework at the kitchen table. Aizawa brushed it off as a bad day. Hizashi was responsible with his drink, heroes had to be. They saw too much, and alcohol always promised to bury most of their hurt. It was too easy to fall prey to it. But sometimes heroes weren’t perfect.

The next day came, and Hizashi was smiling again, bright, and happy as though he wasn’t suffering from a hangover. He sang as he cooked them breakfast, helped Eri braid her hair, and playfully teased Hitoshi about a certain blonde that was always texting him. The morning was complete as Hizashi pressed a kiss on Aizawa’s cheek, almost sinking into an embrace.

“What was last night about?” Aizawa asked, leaning into his husband.

“I bumped into Kan after patrol, and we got chatting and the next thing I know I’m waddling home drunk out of my mind,” Hizashi laughed, shaking his head. “Do not challenge Kan to a drinking contest!”

“You sure you’re okay?” Aizawa buried his face into Hizashi’s neck, breathing him in.

“I don’t lie to you, Shou.” Hizashi kissed his hair.

It was a morning like any other. No cause for alarm. Sometimes the heroes life was one where you could hold your head up high, and sometimes it brought you down to your lowest. Aizawa had been there before. So had Hizashi. But they had each other to help the other back up again. That morning was normal. Everything was normal. Aizawa needed it to be normal.

Aizawa felt stupid looking back on it.

The second time came and Aizawa still refused to see it. It was the weekend. Aizawa stayed home, lounging in the quiet of their apartment. Eri scribbled on the floor next to him, as he dozed on the sofa. He’d offer compliments whenever she showed him her masterpieces, promising to find room on the fridge for them. Her latest one has been of what Aizawa assumed was Deku, if the long green bunny ears were anything to go by. The boy normally popped by to visit Eri, but today he had snatched Aizawa’s other kid. Hitoshi had mentioned something about going to the mall, shopping and then bowling. While Aizawa was apprehensive ever since Midoriya had been attacked by Shigaraki at the mall during their first term, there was only so much coddling he could do before the kids rebelled. And it was nice to see Hitoshi with his friends. The boy definitely needed some positive relationships in his life that weren’t himself or Hizashi.

Eleven o’clock ticked by and Aizawa glanced at his phone. Hitoshi should have been home by now, with Hizashi in tow as his ride. He was sure that the boy had invited some of his friends to stay the night (despite all of Aizawa’s grumbling that he saw class 2-A all week and didn’t want to see them during his days off too.)

Ten minutes passed by innocently, but Aizawa couldn’t stop glancing at his phone. Eri was asleep in her room, leaving Aizawa with his silent worrying. It was illogical to worry, Hizashi was a pro, and Hitoshi and his friends were all heroes-in-training, they could handle themselves. And as teenagers went, they were fairly responsible. (Or at least he trusted Hitoshi to be. His other problem children were touch and go.)

Another ten minutes passed before Aizawa got to his feet, snatching the car keys from the coffee table. Something was wrong. He grabbed his phone, ready to call both his husband and kid before it sprung to life, the screen flashing with Hitoshi’s contact photo.

“Why aren’t you home?” Aizawa tried to keep the sharpness from his voice.

“Yamada hasn’t turned up yet. We’ve been waiting outside for thirty minutes for him.” Hitoshi’s deep voice came through the speaker. He could hear Midoriya’s mutterings in the background and Todoroki’s monotone reply.

“He hasn’t turned up?” Aizawa couldn’t help the frown that took over his features. Hizashi was never late to anything unless it was what he called ‘fashionably late’. This wasn’t one of those times. He was simply supposed to finish his patrol and collect Hitoshi and his friends from the mall and come straight home.

Aizawa checked his phone again, putting Hitoshi on speaker. Hizashi hadn’t texted him, warning him that he’d be late, nor were there any missed calls.

“I’m on my way,” Aizawa sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t move. Stay where the cameras can see you.”

“Is Yamada okay?” Hitoshi asked, nervousness easy to spot in his voice.

“He better be,” Aizawa said before hanging up. He called Hizashi as he went into Eri’s room. The phone continued to ring and ring, even as he collected the girl into his arms, shushing her as she woke up, groggily asking where they were going.

“We need to go pick up Hitoshi. Go back to sleep, okay?” Aizawa smoothed her, smiling faintly as she nodded and tucked herself into his arms.

Hizashi still had to answer his phone.

After buckling Eri into her car seat, Aizawa drove towards the mall, his phone still ringing.

“Answer your damn phone, you idiot,” Aizawa growled, trying to dissipate the growing worry in his stomach. It happened sometimes. Patrols that sometimes went on too long. A villain could attack at the last minute and as a hero, it was their duty, their instinct to help where they could. Even in the tamest scenarios, Hizashi had been caught up before, signing autographs, too busy chatting with his fans to notice the time. But it was eleven at night, and while it wasn’t going to be quiet in the city, it was rare to be stopped at a time like this. Which left Aizawa with the nagging thought that Hizashi was stuck somewhere fighting a villain, unable to call him, unable to tell him he was okay.

Aizawa prayed that he was okay.

They rolled into the mall’s parking lot, spotting Hitoshi and his friends easily with their multitude of colour hair.

“Any news from Yamada?” Was the first thing Hitoshi said as he slipped into the front seat. Midoriya and Todoroki got into the back, both of whom echoed Hitoshi’s concern.

Aizawa glanced back at Eri who was thankfully still asleep before he answered. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of him,” Aizawa said, pulling out of the car park. “I know you were looking forward to the sleepover, Hitoshi, but I’m going to drop Midoriya and Todoroki home. I don’t think tonight is a good night.”

“It’s fine,” Hitoshi said, his eyes boring into Aizawa’s side. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

Aizawa glanced at him before looking back at the road. He didn’t like lying when it wasn’t rational to. Lying to children about the consequences of their exams was one thing, but lying to one about someone’s well-being, Aizawa wasn’t sure whether it was crueller than telling the truth.

“I don’t know.”

They dropped Todoroki at Midoriya’s after checking in with Mrs Midoriya, before driving home. Neither of them talked, aside from when Eri woke up and gently asked Shinsou about his day with his friends. It was again almost normal. There was just a single piece missing, one that never truly belonged to the puzzle. But Aizawa refused to see it. The piece would fit. He just had to find the angle.

***

The lock on the front door turned and the time on Aizawa’s phone read three in the morning. Hitoshi was asleep in the corner of the sofa, curled in on himself, stubbornly staying despite Aizawa’s insistency to go to bed. Aizawa was awake, shooting up from the sofa as the door opened and finally revealed Hizashi. And…he looked fine. A little tired considering the time, but there wasn’t a speck of dirt on him, his hair was still tall, his glasses were clear, everything looked fine. All aside the shocked look on his face when he came to stand in front of Aizawa.

“What happened?” Aizawa said, his voice sounding unsure to even his ears. He didn’t know whether he was glad to see his husband okay and home, or whether he was shocked to see how unscathed he looked, or whether he was downright furious for making them worry.

Hizashi’s eyes widened, and realisation dawned on his face.

“Hitoshi! I forgot ab-.” Hizashi spun around as if to leave again in a scrambling.

“He’s here. I picked him up.” Aizawa crossed the room, so he was in front of Hizashi. “What happened?”

“I’m so sorry, Shou. I ended up covering for Woods and I completely forgot about picking up the kids.”

“Why didn’t you text me?” Aizawa searched his husband’s face. He didn’t know what he was looking for.

“It slipped my mind. Patrol was a nightmare, man.” Hizashi made to move around him. Aizawa blocked his path. “Shouta?”

“What’s happening with you lately?” Aizawa rested his hand on Hizashi’s arm.

“Nothing.” Hizashi frowned as if debating with himself.

“Clearly that’s a lie.”

“I don’t lie to you, Shou.” Hizashi looked up, his eyes sincere and honest, but for a second something flickered in them. Aizawa couldn’t place it, but whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t good. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” He tried to slip around again, but Aizawa held his arm fast.

“No. Something’s wrong.” Aizawa pulled Hizashi back.

“Nothing’s wrong. Stop being so paranoid.” Hizashi tried to laugh, patting Shouta’s shoulder.

“You forgot about your own kid, Hizashi. I’m not paranoid. I’m worried.”

“You don’t need to be,” Hizashi snapped.

It wasn’t often that they fought. Tempers rarely flew between them. So, for a second Aizawa flinched, stepping back before crowding his husband. “Clearly not.” He couldn’t help the drop in his voice. “Now. What’s. Wrong?”

“Nothing, man! Just drop it.”

“This isn’t the first time, Hizashi. I’ve let all slide before. But with The League breathing down our necks, I thought you’d be more careful about our kids.”

“Don’t act like I’m not responsible! You know I’d do anything for them. Anything for you.” Hizashi’s quirk vibrated against the walls. He wasn’t shouting, but the low bass of his voice was enough for everything around them to tremble.

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not saying-.”

“Then what are you saying? Huh? You gonna lay down all my mistakes? I’m not the only one who fucks up, Shouta.”

“What’s that-.”

“Guys.” Another voice snapped at their attention. They both turned to see Hitoshi crossing the space of the living room and collecting a tear eyed Eri, who stood in the hallway entrance, a plush cradled to her chest. Hitoshi threw them both a glare as he smothered her into his shoulder.

Aizawa softened at the sight.

“Take her to bed, Hitoshi. I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned to Hizashi, grabbed his arm, and led them both out of the apartment, ignoring Hizashi’s protests. Once the door was closed behind them, he said, “start talking.”

The night ended with more harsh, clipped words. Neither of them got what they wanted. Aizawa stopped it after it felt like all they were doing was going in circles. It would be discussed in the morning when their tempers cooled.

Aizawa retreated into the apartment, into Eri’s room and found her and Hitoshi both asleep. His eldest woke with one tired and worried eye.

“Are you and Yamada okay?” Hitoshi whispered as Aizawa settled at the edge of the bed.

“We will be.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Hitoshi asked, blinking both of his eyes open.

“No. It’s rare, but even the two of us have our fights.” Aizawa didn’t like lying. Or maybe, even then, he was ignoring the signs. Something was wrong, but how could even think that when everything looked fine; he had a man who he’d loved since their time in high school, two wonderful kids who he’d die for, and a life that wasn’t perfect, but was far better than any other one he could picture for himself. To say something was wrong would unravel everything.

Hitoshi looked down at Eri, who was asleep next to him, her horn gutting into his armpit.

“You said lying was illogical when you’re hurt.” Hitoshi kept his gaze down, as if unsure if he could say such things.

Aizawa flinched.

“This is a problem between Hizashi and me. I’m sorry we dragged you both into the middle of it. It’s nothing you should worry about,” Aizawa said. “Get some sleep.” Aizawa smoothed down a flick of Hitoshi’s hair before wishing him goodnight.

He crossed the length of the passageway and hesitated at his bedroom door. It was open, the room was dark, but the bed was still perfectly made from the morning. Aizawa swallowed a lump in his throat before checking the living room. Hizashi was flat on his face in his uniform on the sofa, with a blanket thrown over him.

“You’re not coming to bed?” Aizawa asked, his voice sounding small in the thickness of their tension.

Hizashi said nothing. Aizawa knew he wasn’t asleep by his gentle breathing. So, he waited, leaning against the wall, his heart twisting in his ribcage.

“Hizashi?”

“No.”

Aizawa’s eyes burned. “Okay.”

Morning came. It was strange to wake up to a bed that was cold on one side. Aizawa couldn’t remember the last time Hizashi took to the sofa. Their last big fight was before the kids even entered their lives, maybe even before Aizawa became a teacher. It was hard to pinpoint it after so much time. Maybe it was after Oboro’s death; he knew they fought a lot then. It was difficult to even talk to each other after that. It was like Oboro was the only thing keeping them together and when he was gone, they shattered into a million pieces. It’d taken months to find all the pieces and glue them back together as best as they could.

But no. This wasn’t like Oboro. The grief wasn’t there. There was no missing piece. It was just one fight.

Aizawa pushed himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes. He barely slept as it was, but without Hizashi’s warmth next to him, it was pretty much impossible to get anything decent. It meant that he didn’t notice someone standing in the doorway, nor did he notice how close he’d gotten to bumping into them until two hands steeled him back by his shoulders. He blinked hard, looking up to find Hizashi. There were bags under his red-rimmed eyes.

“Can we talk?” Hizashi asked, his voice quiet.

Aizawa nodded, retreating into their room, and waited for Hizashi at the edge of their bed as he shut the door behind him. Hizashi sat next to him, their shoulder not quite touching, but close enough to know that the anger from the previous night was gone.

Aizawa waved a hand for Hizashi to start.

“I’m thinking of cutting down on my hero hours.”

Aizawa blinked at the confession. He hadn’t expected that. Hizashi loved being a hero, it was their dream ever since they were kids. It was true that his radio show was a massive part of his life too, and him being a teacher was his favourite job out of all three but imaging Hizashi not being a hero was like imaging him bald, or without his huge smile. It was a hard concept to get around.

“You’re going to stop being a hero?” Aizawa asked.

“Not stop. It was easier when it was just the two of us to balance all three jobs, but with the kids, I think I need to reorganise what’s important to me.” He turned his hand over, presenting his palm to Aizawa. “I’m sorry I’ve lost sight of that.”

Aizawa took his hand, squeezing it tightly. He knew it wasn’t easy for Hizashi to give up his time as a hero. He loved being busy; he loved being a hero; he loved saving people. But he’d be lying if he thought Hizashi loved all that more than his family. They’d always talked about having kids, but never found the right time to have one. Not many heroes had kids, after all, it wasn’t the right environment to bring one up in. They were going to wait until they retired.

And then Hitoshi came into their lives, determined to be a hero, to prove his worth to the world on national television. He’d instantly taken a liken to the boy, and it wasn’t long until they were training together. It was even sooner when Aizawa started to see the signs that the boy was in trouble. Originally, it was just bruises, ones that Hitoshi blamed on training, even if Aizawa had been careful not to hurt him. Aizawa couldn’t prove anything, so he waited and built up trust with him, hoping that if his suspicion was correct, then Hitoshi would come to him for help. And that day came, with Hitoshi turning up to school with a bloodied lip and a black eye.

Several weeks later, and Hitoshi was under Aizawa’s care through fostering him. Hizashi was over the moon, buying every single thing he thought a teenager would need. He smothered Hitoshi with all the careful love a new guardian could give. It took weeks to build their relationship, but in the end, fatherhood looked good on Hizashi.

It was only a couple of months later when they came to have Eri in their care. And Hizashi’s parental instincts once again kicked into the highest gear. Eri had everything a little girl could ever want, all the love she could grab with two hands.

It was the beginning of the family they never thought they’d get.

“The commission won’t like losing their hold on Presentic Mic.” Aizawa teased lightly, treading the water of Hizashi’s apology.

“Fuck the commission,” Hizashi growled, his body tensing next to Aizawa, before he deflated, leaning against him. “Sorry.”

Aizawa pressed a kiss to his temple. This was something they would work through together. The gold band around Hizashi’s finger and the one linked to a chain around Aizawa’s neck was a promise to that.

And then the third incident happened. Well, it couldn’t really be called the third incident. Aizawa knew there were more, ones that he’d brushed under the rug. Heck, even the first and second incidents couldn’t really be called that, there were definitely more before he caught on. Thousands of little white lies and mistakes over the years that Aizawa ignored.

But there was a moment when it all started to click into place.

 Class 2-A and Class 2-B were matched up again, though the teams were a mixture of both classes. It was a training exercise to work with heroes that they were unfamiliar with. It was fairly simple, one that both teachers were confident most of their class would excel in.

Aizawa watched with a blooming pride in his chest as Hitoshi swung his capture weapon out, snaring Uraraka out of danger. His teammate turned with a grateful smile and a hand raised, ready for a high five. One Shinsou gave with a shy smile tucked into his scarf.

“Your Shinsou is much more confident than the last time we did this,” Kan observed.

“He had no chance against my class. When he declared that he wasn’t here to make friends, it was like a declaration of war. Midoriya pounced before Hitoshi even had a chance. I swear that child will make friends with anyone,” Aizawa said, smirking into his scarf. “They bring out of the best in Hitoshi.”

“Don’t cut yourself short. You and Hizashi are doing a fine job too.” Kan put a large hand on his shoulder.

“It has been rewarding.”

“Will you be following in Hizashi’s footsteps and cutting down your hero work?” Kan asked, tentatively. It was rare they discussed their private lives while at school.

“Hmm. I’ve considered it, but most of the time when I get called out, my class has been involved anyway. I think once this class graduates, then I’ll consider it. Someone has to keep an eye on them in the field.” Aizawa watched over his class as they yelled and cheered each other on.

“If I weren’t already grey, I think I’d be going grey from our classes.” Kan gruffed. “We should go out for a drink soon. It’s been too long.”

Aizawa turned, an eyebrow raised.

“Too long? Hizashi came home rather drunk the other month after your little exertion.”

It was Kan’s turn to look confused.

“The last time I took a drink with Hizashi was after the completion of the dorms. When Toshinori joined us.”

Aizawa’s head spun before he collected himself.

“I must have remembered incorrectly. Forgive me.” Aizawa held up a hand before shoving them both into his pockets.

Hizashi had lied to him. A part of him wanted to believe that he mixed up the name of who he was with, but there was a seed of doubt to that thought. Any excuse he tried to give his husband, he found his mind pulling him back into the idea that he’d lied to him.

An ugly thought came to him. One that had his face screwing up in disgust at even thinking it. Was Hizashi cheating on him?

“You look pretty sour, Aizawa. Are you okay?” All Might stood next to him now, almost bending down to get a good look at Aizawa’s face. Aizawa couldn’t remember the giant of a man even approaching. Kan had left his side, and was in the field with the children, helping Tokoyami pull his cloak free from where it has gotten caught in Shiozaki’s hair.

“Yes.” Aizawa cringed at how sharp his voice was. He didn’t mean to be so blunt with All Might, they had after all had gotten closer after the older hero’s retirement. “Watch my class for me, I’ll just be a moment,” Aizawa said, without waiting for an answer as he excused himself towards the edge of the training grounds.

The ugly thought was still there, even after he took a handful of deep breaths. It was illogical to jump to conclusions without any proof. He’d always sneered at those soap operas when the woman would think her parent was cheating, all for it to be over a simple misunderstanding. No. He wouldn’t think so low of Hizashi. He trusted no one else in the world as much as he trusted him.

And it wasn’t in Hizashi’s nature to cheat. And not to deny his husband on how handsome he was, who would even try? Sure, Hizashi was a good-looking guy, but those who were close to him knew he was married, and he couldn’t think of anyone who would even try to get between them.

He pulled out his phone, his gut twisting at the home screen. He didn’t dare have photos of his family on his phone, least a villain get it and use it against him in the most horrible fashion. Instead, it was a crude drawing done by Eri of the four of them.

He opened his contacts and opened Hizashi’s name. Their previous texts were mundane, asking for what take-away they wanted last night and a good morning text after homeroom, something they did every morning.

He paused as his thumbs rested on the keyboard. What was he supposed to write? ‘You lied about where you were the other week when you came late?’, ‘would you ever lie to me?’, ‘are you cheating on me?’.

He shoved his phone into his pocket.

Returning home after work and picking up Eri from her playdate with Mirio, Aizawa managed to keep his thoughts from running wild with him. He kept busy helping Eri with her homework (one she’d set herself. She was determined to one day go to school like the other girls), and he trained with Hitoshi before he left to hang out with Kaminari and the rest of the group dubbed ‘the bakusquad’.

His mind was peaceful until Hizashi came home, yelling into the living room that he was home. While Erin leapt to her feet and clung to Hizashi’s trouser leg, showing him her work on English verbs and nouns, something painful twisted in Aizawa’s chest. He watched as Hizashi ‘wow’ed at Eri’s worksheet, smothering her with kisses and hugs for her hard work. And instead of the warmth he usually got from watching how utterly affectionate he was with the kids, it made his throat dry and his eyes sting.

“I picked up another patrol tonight, babe. So, I’ll cook dinner a little early. Hitoshi can heat his up when he comes home,” Hizashi said, carrying Eri and placing her on top of the kitchen counter. “Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Aizawa called back.

Dinner came and went, the table loud with Hizashi’s storytelling and Eri’s wide-eyed curiosity at them. It ended with Hizashi sliding an old photo album off the bookshelf and opening it to the first couple of pages. It was one of many in their home, full to the brim with memories despite how a lot of their photos were stored on their phones these days. But Hizashi said he liked them printed, something solid to look through when nostalgia needed a revisiting. Eri pointed at each photo, her voice quiet as she asked question after question.

Aizawa stayed in the kitchen, clearing the dishes, and washing them in the sink. He tried not to listen, but he couldn’t help but soften at the memories. He even laughed when Hizashi told the story of their high school days, one where they had brought Sushi in and had obviously managed to lose her. Initially, it wasn’t a very funny story, the day was full of panic and clipped words, but in hindsight, imagining the four of them (them being Hizashi, Nemuri, Oboro and himself) racing around the school yelling ‘pspsps’, was almost too much. They’d finally found Sushi with Nezdu, because where else would the cat have ended up. After a long lecture about the importance of animal welfare and a promise not to bring the cat back into school (one that wasn’t kept), the four of them finally got Sushi back home where she belonged.

It was almost enough to lull him back into a sense of normalcy and security until three quick raps against the front door shook the comfort away.

“LeMillion.” Eri beamed before she scrambled down from the sofa and padded to the door.

“Eri!” Mirio mirrored Eri’s smile as he came in, taking off his shoes and slipping on the house slippers. “Hi Mr Eraserhead, Hi Mr Mic,” Mirio greeted with an over-exaggerated wave. The third-year often visited their apartment, happy to babysit Eri while both Hizashi and Aizawa were at one of their five collective jobs.

“There’s dinner in the microwave, so help yourself,” Hizashi said as he adorned his work jacket and directional speaker. Aizawa grabbed his capture weapon and slung it onto his shoulders, he was already in his uniform from school. “Oh, and Hitoshi should be home by eleven. And make sure the windows are locked so Jelly doesn’t escape. I don’t think there is-.”

“Hizashi, he knows.” Aizawa all but ushered him out of the house.

“We’ll be A-Okay! Right, Eri?” Mirio said, giving them a double thumbs up. Eri mimicked him.

“Okay! If anything goes wrong, you have our number! Bye!” Hizashi waved as both he and Aizawa left. “I hate leaving the Little Listener.” He pouted before pressing the button on his car keys. “Do you want a lift to the station? Sure, beats walking.”

“I don’t walk.” Aizawa tugged on a strip of his capture weapon.

“Okay, then it beats swinging.” Hizashi mocked as he got into his car, mumbling about not appreciating said car and what was the point of buying one if he never let Hizashi drive him around. “I’ll see you later. Love you,” Hizashi flicked his sunglasses on over the bridge of his nose and gave Aizawa his signature smiles before speeding off.

Aizawa waited until the car vanished around the street corner before he swung himself up onto the rooftop. And followed.

He promised himself he wouldn’t. He trusted his husband more than he trusted anyone else in the world, but the nagging feeling from class was still thick in his head. He needed to know he was wrong.

Hizashi’s 96’ Shelby was easy to follow from the rooftops, the blue paint flashing under the streetlights. He remembered the day he imported it from America. It was like a kid on Christmas. Hizashi was adamant that he would drive everyone around. It would have been downright annoying if it wasn’t for that stupid smile on Hizashi’s face.

The car took a swift tight, driving deeper into the undergrowth of the city. It wasn’t any patrols Aizawa knew, especially not for a limelight hero like Hizashi’s was. The road he took, took him further into underground territory.

Finally, the car stopped, pulling up against a dingy looking warehouse. Aizawa perched himself on the opposite rooftop, melting into the shadows so he was close enough to listen in, but not so anyone would see him.

‘What are you up to, Hizashi?’ He thought, frowning at the blonde of his husband's hair as he stepped out of his car. His theory that Hizashi was cheating quickly dissolved as Hizashi knocked against the warehouse door before stepping back and leant against his car. Whoever he was meeting here, Aizawa doubted it was for a night time fling. Somehow the idea that Hizashi wasn’t cheating was worse. At least if he were cheating, Aizawa could settle in the knowledge that his husband no longer loved him. He’d grieve for their time together, but it would be an answer to his strange behaviour, one that he could both hate and understand.

Whatever Hizashi was going here, Aizawa knew it was going to change everything.

And it did.

“You’re late,” a scratchy voice said as they opened the warehouse door.

“Can’t help the traffic, man.” Hizashi shrugged, as though he wasn’t talking to a villain, as if he wasn’t talking to the reason his students were risking their lives when they shouldn’t have to; as if the man in question wasn’t responsible for the scar under his eye and chronic pain in his elbow, almost killing him; as if the world wasn’t ending around them with Shigaraki at the helm.

Vertigo stole Aizawa’s senses, and he had to hold onto the edge of the roof to stop himself from falling over. He pushed himself backwards, careful on his wobbly legs so he didn’t alert the two villains people below him.

Yo, speaking of trust,

Aizawa gripped at his chest as something painful twisted inside of it.

Can I just take that opportunity to say that there’s no doubt about it anymore.

Aizawa slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the pained sound that threatened to escape him. It squealed against his palm.

There’s gotta be a traitor in our midst.

There was no way, and yet he saw it with his own eyes.

Hizashi was the U.A traitor.

Returning home felt like years had passed. He felt aged, old and beaten, how he imagined he’d feel when something finally made him break and retire. He just didn’t think it’d happen so soon. He didn’t think Hizashi would be the reason why.

Fifteen years together, two of them just being friends, dating after Oboro during their second year, getting engaged once Hizashi hit the top twenty, married by the time they were twenty-five. And now…Aizawa didn’t know what happened now, or what came next. He always thought Hizashi would be in his future, he didn’t plan for anything else, it was irrational when he had already found the good in his life, he didn’t need to find more.

And just like that, it was over.

The front door to their apartment seemed to appear after he blinked, rubbing at the soreness of his eyes. He didn’t know why they ached. He hadn’t used his quirk, nor had he cried (he suspected it’d hit him later), but they felt heavy and painful.

He bid Mirio goodnight as the kid left, turning down the offer to walk him back home. He checked in on Hitoshi and found the kid passed out on his bed, flopped onto his stomach with his spindly limbs stretched out on top of the sheets. He was still in his jeans and t-shirt, and he was snoring softly against his pillow. Aizawa carefully stepped into the room and threw a blanket over him, tucking a drooping leg back onto the bed. The kid didn’t even stir, completely dead to the world, exhausted from hours spent socialising with his friends.

Next, he checked on Eri who was fast asleep, her All Might night light shining shapes that resembled the hero in a soft yellow glow around her room. It was a blessing when Midoriya offered to give Eri his night light after hearing from Mirio about Eri’s nightmares. Ever since plugging it in, Eri slept most nights without any problems. Aizawa wished it wasn’t the oblivious oaf, but he’d deal with seeing his stupid grin, as long as it helped the girl sleep.

He felt his entire being melt at the sight of her until he caught a yellow shape tucked into her arms. A Present Mic plush was cradled to her chest. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to take it from her, but he couldn’t even enter her room. He couldn’t find the courage to step over the doorway. He promised to keep her safe, and yet there was a wolf in sheep’s clothing in their apartment.

Aizawa flopped into the sofa, burying his face into his hands. He didn’t know what to do, how to feel. How to do anything. What did you do the love of your life was living a completely different life, one that had cost lives, one that had spilled blood and continued to haunt them.

Something soft nudged against his leg. Aizawa peered between his fingers. Jelly was winding herself between his legs, nuzzling her head against his shin. 

“Hey Jelly,” Aizawa whispered, scooping the cat up onto his lap. She pushed her head into his stomach, cheek turned upwards, hopeful for scratches. He obliged, curling a finger over her cheek, using his nail to make her purr. “I don’t know what to do,” he choked. “Hizashi…after everything. He-.” Aizawa bit off the word as it turned into a pained sound, squeezing his lip between his teeth. “God.” Aizawa curled over the cat as she looked up at him, her eyes large and curious. “He really played me for a fool.”

Aizawa reached for the ring that nestled on his chest. It was simple; a gold band with a small engraving on the inside that said the date of their wedding. It suited him fine. There weren’t many material possessions that mattered to Aizawa, things were replaceable and only held value if you gave it some. However, his wedding ring was something he always kept with him, despite how easy it was to lose in battle. He’d luckily never lost it, as if some divine intervention allowed him this one miracle.

Now, it seemed to burn against his skin. Was this all a lie too? Was it a ruse? Was their marriage a way to distract Aizawa from the truth? He’d been happy all those years, never doubting, never wanting anything different, and yet Hizashi did. And no matter how much Aizawa thought about it, he couldn’t figure out why. Why lie all this time? Why pretend?

Aizawa shoved the ring back under his shirt. He knew it was hopeless to let the thoughts spin in his head until they were on loop. They’d get no answers. If he wanted those, he’d need to ask Hizashi. But he was afraid. Afraid that the truth was more than he could handle. Afraid that the last fifteen years were nothing but a fabrication to keep Aizawa busy.

He lied down on the sofa, Jelly mewing at him unhappily as she readjusted herself onto his chest.

“What am I going to do?” Aizawa asked Jelly, feeling tears spring to his eyes. Jelly blinked at him, purring loudly, her rumbles vibrating on his chest. “I love him so much.”

***

Aizawa woke to a hand on his shoulder and his name against his ear.

“Come on, Shouta. You can’t sleep here, or you’ll regret it in the morning.”

Aizawa blinked, opening his eyes to a fuzzy figure leaning over him.

“Hizashi?”

“Who else would dare risk waking you up?” Hizashi laughed as he offered Aizawa his hand. He took it, pushing himself upright, groggily. Jelly had left him sometime when he was asleep and had vanished somewhere in the apartment. “Why are you sleeping out here?” Hizashi asked, with a conflicting mixture of amusement and concern on his face.

“Didn’t mean to,” Aizawa grumbled, wiping the sleep from his face.

“Let’s get you to bed then.” Hizashi helped Aizawa stand, though he didn’t need it, and led him to their bed. “I swear you’d be hopeless without me.”

Aizawa swallowed the lump in his throat at the thought.

Together they climbed into their bed, ignoring the need to change out of their clothes. It was late, they were tired, and Aizawa just wanted one more night to pretend.

“Hizashi?” He pressed his face into the space between Hizashi’s shoulder blades.

“Yeah, Shou?” Hizashi linked their fingers together from where their hands rested over his side.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Morning came, and Aizawa knew that he couldn’t bask in the soft morning heat that fell over him. He couldn’t stay wrapped in the warmth of Hizashi’s arm loose around his stomach. He couldn’t listen to the soft breaths that meant Hizashi was about to wake up. He couldn’t wait for him to wake up or whisper a groggy good morning.

He allowed himself to have last night. It didn’t feel enough, but it never would, he realised. Whatever fantasy he was in last night was just that, a fantasy he knew he needed to end. Prolonging it would just hurt more. And despite what Hizashi meant to him, despite what their marriage meant, he had kids to protect. And the longer he pretended ignorance, the more in danger those in his care would be.

He got up, quietly slipping from bed and went to Hitoshi’s room. Opening the door, he found the kid awake, his head nodding in greeting as he typed away on his phone.

“Morning."

“I need you to get dressed and pack an overnight bag,” Aizawa said, trying not to let anything but a monotone voice slip through. Clearly, he didn’t do a good enough job as Hitoshi looked up, his brow furrowed. There was a flicker of fear in his eyes that quickly doused itself. Aizawa didn’t want to know what went through his head at that moment, but he was glad whatever it was, Hitoshi was quick to extinguish it. The truth was worse than whatever he imagined anyway.

“Is everything okay?” Hitoshi asked, stepping off the bed.

“Do you think you’ll be ready in ten? I need to get Eri ready.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Aizawa stared at him, unable to get the words past his lips. Hizashi’s the U.A traitor. I’m sorry for letting you into this family just for it to tear itself apart. I promised to do better, but I failed you.

“Just get ready.”

He left, striding over to Eri’s room. She was still asleep; the Present Mic toy had fallen to the floor sometime during the night.

“Eri, wake up.” Aizawa softened his voice as he crouched next to the bed. Eri was unpredictable when she woke. There was no knowing where her mind had gone during the night.

Thankfully she woke up gently, her large red eyes blinking away whatever dream she was caught in. Hopefully, it was a happy one.

“Morning,” he whispered.

“Morning,” she said quietly, rubbing her balled up hands against her eyes. “Are we still going to the park today?”

Aizawa silently cursed himself for forgetting. It had taken months before Eri was comfortable going outside, even longer for her to gather the courage to even ask. He’d promised her that they’d go on the weekend, but it’d slipped his mind.

“I’m sorry, Eri. Something important’s come up. We’re going to visit Midnight today, maybe if you ask her, she and Hitoshi will take you.”

He could see the disappointment clear on her face, but also the resignation as she nodded, her hands fiddling with her flowery nightgown.

“I’m sorry.” His voice broke as he offered her his hands.

She looked up with wide eyes, curious and sad, but there was something else in them. An understanding look only children possessed.

“You’re upset?” Eri asked, slipping her tiny hands into his. He marvelled at them, wondering they could be so small. He enclosed his fingers around them.

“Yeah,” he said.

Eri hummed at him before she jumped down from the bed and wandered the room in search of something. She hurried as she found whatever she was looking for. He watched as she gathered a red blanket from her pile of plush toys and threw it over his shoulders, gathering the material at his chest for him to hold onto.

“Mirio wraps this around me when I’m upset,” she said, turning her feet inwards and her gaze down, as if unsure of herself.

Aizawa felt his heart break in two as he choked back tears. He was the adult here, and yet his children were the ones comforting him.

“Thank you,” he said, gathering her into his arms, wrapping the blanket over the both of them.

They stayed like that until there was a knock at the door. Instantly, he tensed, locking his arms around Eri, and shifting her to the side as he got into a protective stance.

Hitoshi stared at him from the doorway. His expression blank as Aizawa relaxed.

“You said to be ready in ten,” Hitoshi said.

“Right. Give us a second.” Aizawa unravelled the makeshift cape from around his shoulders and quickly got Eri dressed. Hitoshi helped pack her a bag, fitting as many plush toys as he could into her bag until it was fat and the zipper could barely fasten. Eri gave him two more that Hitoshi put into his own bag with a sigh.

After coercing Jelly into her carrier, they drove to Nemuri’s in silence. Eri had fallen back asleep, her head propped against the car door. Hitoshi sat next to Aizawa in the front, but he hadn’t said a word and instead glared at his lap as if deep in thought. Aizawa always jokingly longed for quiet drives, but with the kids and Hizashi, it was never possible. Eri and Hizashi were either belting out songs, or Hitoshi and Eri were squabbling over something inane. But this silence was overbearing.

There thankfully wasn’t any traffic due to how early they had last. The sun was only beginning to rise from behind the city’s towering buildings. He’d text Nemuri that they were coming and ignored the several missed calls from her.

Finally, they pulled up next to Nemuri’s house, a squat little thing on the other side of the city. Nemuri sat on the front steps, wearing an oversized sweater and shorts. She looked very much unlike her hero persona. She stood when she noticed them, frowning as they collectively got out of the car.

Hitoshi wasted no time rushing past Aizawa, and ignoring Nemuri, as he stalked into her house with his bags. It caused another look of concern from Nemuri, one Aizawa ignored. He’d deal with Hitoshi tomorrow.

Aizawa guided Eri out of the car and up the steps. It wasn’t that Eri was scared of Nemuri, the two had spent plenty of time together over the past year, but still, her nervous tendencies came out when she knew something was wrong.

“Hey, there sweetie!” Nemuri waved, crouching down to Eri’s level. “Shouta said you wanted to go to the park today?”

Eri nodded, holding onto Aizawa’s pant leg.

“Well, how can I be your favourite auntie if I don’t take you?” Nemuri winked. “After some breakfast, how about we go find the biggest slide, huh?”

Eri nodded again.

Nemuri smiled before she stood up, and levelled Aizawa with a concerned frown.

“What is this about, Shouta?”

Nemuri was one of his oldest friends. The next person after Hizashi he trusted the most. She was often his voice of reason, a piece of wisdom that was rarely wrong. He could tell her. Allow himself to be guided into her house where he’d be safe with his children and allow her to deal with the consequences of the truth. He’d have to face the aftermath, true, but he wouldn’t be there for the initial fallout. He wouldn’t have to see Hizashi’s face.

“I’ll explain when I know everything,” he said, in spite of his wishes. He was Hizashi’s husband, he needed answers, he needed to hear Hizashi’s reasons, he needed to hear the truth for himself.

“Are you and Hizashi fighting?” Nemuri looked over his shoulder and back again. He knew what she was looking for, and his husband wasn’t there. He, hopefully, was still asleep in their apartment, unaware of the first move Aizawa had made against him.

“I’ll be back for them tomorrow,” Aizawa said, gently pushing Eri out from behind his leg. “Be good for Midnight.”

Eri looked up at him with those big, red eyes, unbashful as she searched for something in his expression.

“Go on,” he prompted, “I’ll be back soon.”

Eri frowned, her lip jutting out into a pout before she reached out and took Nemuri’s hand.

“I’ll take good care of them, Shouta,” Nemuri said, but Aizawa heard their true meaning, ‘I’ll protect them with my life.’

“Thank you,” he croaked as Nemuri led Eri inside.

He turned and heavily made his way down the steps, ready to make the journey home, ready to confront Hizashi, when a voice cried out behind him.

“Aizawa!”

Aizawa looked back to see Hitoshi running down the steps.

“Wait!” The boy almost collided with him as he tripped on the last step. Aizawa caught him by his arm and held him upright. Hitoshi stumbled back, removing himself from Aizawa’s grip. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

Hitoshi had been living with them for over a year now as their foster son. After finding out that his old living conditions were inadequate and made Aizawa want to give up his hero licence, they took Hitoshi under their wing. It was difficult at first, neither of them knew how to act around one another, despite that they had been training together since the sport festival. Hitoshi had resigned himself to hide away, to make sure he was never a bother. So, now, to see him demand something stirred pride inside Aizawa, as well as shame when he knew he couldn’t tell him. At least not yet.

“Tomorrow.”

“It’s about Yamada, isn’t it?” Hitoshi frowned and stood tall. “I’m not a kid, I can handle it.”

‘I can barely handle it,’ Aizawa thought.

“Hitoshi, I know you’re worried-.”

“Of course I am. You guys took me in when I thought no one else would. I thought I was about to be sent to another group home, away from U.A. But you two fought for me to stay. And…I don’t want-.” Hitoshi’s voice cracked.

“Whatever happens, I’ll make sure you stay at U.A,” Aizawa said, placing a hand on Hitoshi's shoulder. He almost stepped back at the offended expression on Hitoshi’s face.

“I don’t care about that. I want to stay with you and Yamada.”

Aizawa barely knew what came over him as he pulled Hitoshi in, wrapping his arms around him. He felt Hitoshi tense before burying his head into Aizawa’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Aizawa whispered into Hitoshi’s fluffy hair. “I’ll make it right. I promise.”

Hitoshi nodded but didn’t step back from the hug. And they stayed like that until Aizawa finally released Hitoshi, who wiped the corner of his eyes quickly. Aizawa squeezed his shoulder before getting into the car.

It was five minutes later when the first text from Hizashi came through.

Hizashi: you three really left me on my lonesome? I’m hurt, Shou.

Aizawa focused on the road, watching the first drops of rain hit against the windshield.

Hizashi: did you take Jelly with you? I can’t find her.

Every vibration from his phone struck against his heart. He took a shuddering breath as his knuckles whitened against the steering wheel.

His phone blared to life as it vibrated from its stand. Another one of Eri’s drawings lit up on the screen. There was an incoming call from Hizashi. It rang until his phone cut it off, going straight to voicemail. He pressed the speaker button and let Hizashi’s voice fill the car.

“Babe, I’m real worried now. Are you three okay? Are the kids with you? I rang Hitoshi, but he didn’t answer either. Are you three safe? Please answer, Shouta. I’m going insane here….Just be safe, okay? I love you.” -if you would like to call back, please press-.”

Aizawa ended the voicemail before telling his phone to text Hizashi back.

‘I’m almost home.’

He knew it was cryptic, and perhaps a little unfair, but Aizawa couldn’t help feel a little satisfied for making Hizashi worry. His five minutes of panicking was nothing to the weight of Hizashi’s betrayal. If he hurt him, just a little bit, then so be it.

He sat in his car for another ten minutes after he pulled up to the apartment. The drive only took fifteen minutes, and he thought he’d planned all that he was going to say, but when he arrived, it was as though he’d forgotten how to speak. He was a trained hero, trained to fight any threat to his life, trained to rescue those from harm, but he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to confront this.

His phone vibrated.

Hizashi: Shou. I can see you sitting in your car. Please come inside. Whatever it is, we can talk.

Aizawa wanted to laugh. He really was played for a fool. Even now, even after taking the kids somewhere safe, away from him, Hizashi didn’t think Aizawa could find out about his betrayal.

Entering their apartment, he found Hizashi’s pacing in the kitchen. His hair was in wayward strands as if he’d be running his hands through it. He stopped when Aizawa came into view, relief came as a hard exhale as he crossed the room.

“Shou, what’s going on?” His hands came up to grab him, but Aizawa couldn’t help but take a step back. He winced at the hurt expression that flashed across Hizashi’s face. “Shou?”

They met at school, though they didn’t start as high-school sweethearts. It was during their first Sports Festival. Everyone had heard about how they met, how a kid, a nobody, a student without a flashy quirk, took down Yamada Hizashi, a student from the heroes course, someone with a loud, emitter type quirk. A year later and Aizawa joined the heroes course, where he begrudging became friends with Yamada and Oboro. It was strange to be friends with someone you punched in the face, but if Yamada ever held it against him, he didn’t show it. If anything, he boasted Aizawa, gave him the confidence and support he needed. Six months passed, and Oboro never finished his second year.

It was then that Aizawa knew. Life was short. Even more so for a hero. It was dangerous as it was thrilling. He needed to tell Yamada.

And so, he did. It was an uneventful thing. They walked side by side home, shoulder to shoulder, as close as they could get without holding hands. Nerves buzzed and his stomach twisted as he said, ‘I think I love you'. He’d always remember Yamada’s face, a mixture of shock and then disbelief before he burst into uncontrollable laughter, with tears streaming down his cheeks. Yamada became Hizashi that day.

Eight years later they were married. It was a small service, only for those they personally knew and would keep their secret. With being an underground hero, Aizawa needed to keep his life as secretive as possible. That wouldn’t happen if the world knew he was Present Mic’s husband. It kept things between them simple. And special, as if only the two of them knew each other’s love.

Hizashi stood before him now, his heart open and easy to see, but Aizawa could only wonder if it was truly love that kept him there.

“Do you love me?” Aizawa said, his voice stripped of all emotion.

“Shou…what does that even mean?” Hizashi tried to close the space between them, but hesitated, and stilled.

“Why did you agree to take in Hitoshi and Eri?” He knew these weren’t the questions he should have opened with. He needed to tell Hizashi he knew. But every time he opened his mouth, he couldn’t help but stall.

“Shouta. You need to explain where these are all coming from, man? I don’t know-.”

“I saw you.” It came out blunt. Unattached. As though he was talking to a stranger. “I know.”

And by the horrified look at Hizashi’s face, he did too. Finally, he understood. Tears fell on either side of his cheek.

“Why?” Aizawa growled. “Why, Hizashi?”

“I-I did it to help us.”

“Help. Us.” The words were grounded between his teeth. “The USJ didn’t look like help. This-,” he pointed at the scar below his eye and then the one at his elbow- “was them helping?”

“You weren’t supposed to be there! They were only there for All Might. You and Thirteen were supposed to leave with the kids.”

“You put their lives at stake! Asui almost died. Midoriya almost died. If All Might didn’t turn up when he did, who knows how many of my students would be dead!”

“I didn’t know they would target the little listeners. I swear, Shou.”

“They’re villains! You didn’t think that after they finished off All Might they wouldn’t try taking out a few teachers and their students!” Aizawa shouted. “And what about the summer camp? All Might didn’t even come with us. They were targeting the students specifically. We were so damn lucky that none of them died. So damn lucky that we got Bakugo back.”

“I didn’t think they’d actually take Bakugo. They were supposed to just scare you.”

“Scare us? They took down All Might. They did more than scare us.” Aizawa sagged against the wall. “Do you know what that did, not just to the world or hero society, but to the kids? To Midoriya? To Bakugo?”

“Shouta, please, let me explain.”

“Explain? Explain what? That they took a fifteen-year-old to make him one of their lackeys. And if they didn’t succeed, that kid would probably end up one of those Nomu creatures! There’s no reason you could give me to justifying that.” Aizawa felt out of breath. He just wanted to stop. “That kid blames himself for the fall of All Might.” The words were dangerously short. “Do you know what that does to a fifteen-year-old? That much guilt and pressure on their shoulders? And he couldn’t even tell us. He told Midoriya. As if adults couldn’t be trusted. And-.” He let out a weak, bitter laugh, “and I guess he’s right. If he’d come to you, would you have taken him back to The League?”

“Of course not!” Hizashi yelled, his quirk slipping into his voice, popping Aizawa’s ears. “I would never hurt one of the kids.”

“And yet you’re still working with them. Even after everything they’ve done.” Aizawa felt a burning sensation in his eyes and the weight around his shoulders vanish. There was another flash of hurt across Hizashi’s face. “And they will hurt them. You know they will. You’re not stupid, Hizashi.”

He blinked, and his hair fell heavy onto his shoulders.

“And I’ll be there to stop them.” His eyes burned again, but it wasn’t his quirk drying out his eyes. “I’ll stop you.”

A shuddering sound came from Hizashi as his chest shook.

“Don’t make me fight you, Shou. I did this for us. For you, me, Eri, Hitoshi. I don’t want to hurt us.”

“You already have. Do you know what this will do to Hitoshi? He finally found a family that cared for him. And Eri. She loves you so much, and this will put her back to where she started. Scared to even get close to anyone.” Aizawa seethed. “How can any of this be for us?”

“You think Eri is safe with us? The hero commission is already breathing down our necks about her. They’ll take her, and you know we’ll be powerless to stop them.” Hizashi took a step forward. “And one slip up, one mistake, and they’ll deem Hitoshi a villain.”

“So what? Kill All Might, show the world how crazy it was to put all our trust on one man's shoulders, and then what? What next? Kill Endeavour? Kill Best Jeanist? Kill every hero that stands against what you believe in? How would that help our kids?”

“No. It was just meant to be All Might. His death was supposed to rock the boat, make people question the hero commission.”

“Just All Might. Do you have any idea how you sound? You wanted to kill someone, Hizashi.”

“Shou, listen to me. It-.”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me Shou. Don’t say my name.” Aizawa snapped before he wiped a hand down his face, hoping to drag the exhaustion from his body. “Did you even love me this entire time? Was our marriage a distraction? To keep me from guessing.”

“No! I love you!” Hizashi took a step forward and braved his hands on Aizawa’s shoulders. “Would you really doubt me on that?”

“I don’t understand how you can love me and do this to us?” Aizawa looked into Hizashi’s eyes, watching them well with tears. He pushed himself out of Hizashi’s embrace and pressed his back against the wall.

“Love isn’t as straightforward as that. You of all people should understand that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aizawa felt his voice grate against his throat.

“You know exactly what I mean. I’m not blind to how much you loved Oboro.”

Aizawa heart clenched in his chest.

“I-.”

“Don’t lie to me. I know you loved him.”

“Oboro has nothing to do with this.”

“Oboro has everything to do with this.” Hizashi snarled. “Of course, he does. He died when we were kids, Shou. He shouldn’t have died. But he did, and the hero commission and U.A didn’t even care. They just shoved his body six foot under and pretended his death never happened. That he never existed.”

“Oboro knew the risks, as do we all.”

“And would you say the same to Hitoshi? He’s the same age. Would you be okay if that were him?”

“Don’t.” Aizawa closed his eyes, trying to rid the image of Hitoshi in Oboro’s place. He could see the building, the kindergarten children screaming, the villain towering above them. He could see the bit of debris as he came crashing down on Hitoshi’s head.

“Shou, I didn’t mean to-. His death changed us. But only us. The rest of U.A didn’t change. The hero commission did nothing to make our internships safer. You just-. You loved him.”

Aizawa raised his hand.

“You’re right. I did love Oboro. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t love you. When he died, I realised that I couldn’t lose you too. I needed you in my life.”

“I know, Shou. But I never matched up to him, did I?”

Aizawa kept his mouth shut.

“See.” Hizashi laughed, wet and broken. “I’ve always loved you. When you asked me out, I knew you didn’t love me, not in the same way as Oboro. You were scared and alone. I thought in time you could love me like that.”

“I did. I do.”

“I know that too.” He closed the space between them again, guiding his hands over Aizawa’s cheeks, resting one thumb over the scar, tracing over it. “That’s why I'm doing this. I don’t want to lose you either. I can’t lose you.”

Hot tears ran down Aizawa’s face as he leant forward, pressing his lips against Hizashi’s. Hizashi melted against him, keeping his hands soft on Aizawa’s face. They fit so perfectly against each other. He wanted it to last forever, for time to still so he didn’t have to face tomorrow.

They pulled apart, their lips almost touching.

“I love you, Shouta.”

“You’re the U.A traitor,” Aizawa said, his voice thick. “I have to protect my kids.”

Hizashi pressed his forehead against Aizawa’s, his eyes screw closed as he cried.

“Don’t do this.”

“I have to.”

A sob broke from Hizashi, and Aizawa held him, running his hands through his hair, pressing their noses together.

They stayed like that until there were no more tears to cry and their throats were raw.

“What will you tell Hitoshi and Eri?” Hizashi asked with a whisper.

“The truth. They deserve that much.”

“I love them, Shou. Make sure they know that. The world will lie about me, but I just want them to know that I love him.”

“They already know.”

Hizashi sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve.

“Are you going to hand me in?”

It was a stupid choice. One he knew he would later regret. But as he held Hizashi in his arms, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t imagine arresting him or marching down to the police station.

“Go.”

Hizashi nodded before stepping away. Aizawa almost snatched him back. But didn’t. Restraining himself from the hardest moment of his life.

“I-.” Hizashi’s looked down at the band of gold around his finger, twisting it so the light bounced from it, stinging Aizawa’s eyes. “I’ll leave this with you.” He slipped his wedding ring off and placed it into Aizawa’s palm and closed his fingers around it. “One day, I hope…maybe.” He cut himself off before reaching for the door.

Aizawa watched, trying to school his expression, trying to hold himself back, hold the grief at bay.

Hizashi turned with a wavering smile on his face and fresh tears on his cheeks.

“Shouta, I’m sorry.”

And then he was gone. The door clicking softly behind Hizashi.