Chapter Text
Monday, 24th of December.
20##
I feel like I’m dying.
It’s a pretty scary feeling.
The weeks following was hard on everybody, but specifically the husbands who somehow got so attached to the greenette. Nobody was sure how they did, or when exactly, not until after the boys ‘death’ they’ve decided to dub it- did it become strikingly clear.
That hardest part about it all, was the funeral they planned. The hero’s, Nedzu, and Tsukauchi all got together. It was difficult to get a casket when no body was actually there to be placed in it, but in the end the team succeeded. Nedzu helping the most on that end.
The second hardest part about it all was actually steeling themselves to attend it. They cared for the boy, and they all felt attachment in their own ways, even with the limited time they had with the boy.
The third hardest part about it all, was the gut-wrenching heart-break that adorned Hizashi and Shouta, and the stack of paper’s that Yamada carried around the entire time at the event, which soon became crystal clear on what exactly it was.
It was when the hero, dubbed ‘The loud hero’ walked up to the microphone for a small speech. It wasn’t much, and didn’t travel very much into Midoriya Izuku’s life and personal beliefs but it registered with those in the room.
”We… none of us knew Izuku for very long, which was a shame cause he seemed like such a positive guy. And though, his situation regarding Time-travel and the countless bickers he would have with us regarding his ‘technical’ age and his ‘physical’ age were very common, they were familiar.
Now though… we won’t ever be able to hear those again, or his voice, or his chuckle. We won’t be able to ever see his shit-eating grin whenever he’s right about something, and his snarky replies will be nothing but ushered memories. He’ll be somebody who we think about for the rest of our lives, but will never be able to greet like an old friend from college.”
Hizashi grins, in thought. The lift of his lips genuine yet devastating. “He wasn’t with us long, and though we got everything done he wanted us to get done. I feel there was still a lot more we should’ve done… needed to do, with him still here. He’ll forever remain physically fourteen, and mentally forty-two, so in the end, neither of us won the argument.” He chuckles softly, his eyes wet with unshed tears.
”What me and Shou planned to give him after the whole Shigaraki fiasco can.. will no longer happen. But we felt it was right to still announce it. We’ll tell him about it later when myself and Shouta hang back a little longer to sit and stare at his tombstone, that lies an empty grave underneath.
We were planning to.. “ His voice cracks, and he looks away, blinking his eyes in an attempt to wheel them away. “Me and Shouta had learned a few weeks ago prior that he lived on the streets, and nobody was there to look after him.”
Hizashi gives that a second to settle beneath everybody before he swallows thickly and continues. “Me and Shouta had decided to see if taking Izuku in with us, would’ve been something that made him happy. Minor or not, no matter the cancelled argument… living like he did wasn’t right. So right there, are.. the paper’s we had hoped he would’ve signed.”
This time, as he holds the papers up and watches the widening looks from the group of people surrounded by him he lets his tears fall. His head ducking down.
After that, the funeral soon wrapped up. A few more speeches going around and the sound’s of well-wishes passed from person to person before all who were standing were Aizawa, Yamada, and Tsukauchi.
Turning to one of his best-friends, and his best-friend’s lover, he sighs. Instead of saying his apologies that he’s sure the hero's are long tired of hearing, he smiles bitterly. “Izuku would have accepted them in a heart-beat. Regardless of all the guys baggage or not.”
Placing a hand on the men’s shoulders, he turns around and leaves. Not trusting himself to stick around longer before breaking down into tears, for the kid he, too grew attached to.
The hero’s stand in silence for a few minutes before they turn to face each-other, letting tears slip they grasp onto each-other, hugging the other tightly and with a dying purpose.
Hizashi burrows his face against Aizawa’s neck, the motion practiced and basically a routine over the last few weeks. Shouta rakes his fingers through the blondes soft hair, the particles laying flat against the man’s back instead of the usual up-do.
Silent sobs wrack both of their bodies as they stand together for a while, not breaking apart until their tears slow and dry against their faces.
Once apart, they turn to the graveyard a bit away from the funeral home. Stepping out into the pouring rain, the weather matching exactly how the two feel in the inside. A volcanic flood of emotions swaying back and forth, tipping over in small spurts of rain, and drenching Japan as a whole in the mess.
Walking slowly to their destination, they pass the iron gates easily enough, not taking a glance at the impending doom that grows in their stomachs.
Sitting down in front of a far to new grave stone, the mud underneath them squishing and drenching them in the liquid-down dirt they take a deep breath.
Hizashi puts down the paper’s, on the grass, right in front of the stone-hedge. “Hey, Izuku.” He speaks, his voice quiet and weak.
Aizawa silently places a hand on Hizashi’s shoulder, biting back his emotions uselessly. “We have something for you, Problem child.”
Glancing a look at his husband, the rain up ahead soaking the hero’s further, and the water traveling into Hizashi’s already soaking eyes, and streaming down his face so now he can’t tell what’s tears and what’s the rain-water- he sniffles. “Yeah little listener! We wanted to show you these after the whole USJ incident, but that never happened.”
Resting a hand against his husband's shoulder, he leans the blonde into his side, Hizashi’s head soon resting against Aizawa’s shoulder as they watch Izuku’s headstone together.
They already made the mistake of taking their eyes off of the teen once before, they’re not doing it again. And as time passes, the paper of which held the important information soon got soaked, getting wet enough to break apart into pieces.
~~~
Following that night the two get home, a certain head of green-hair awaits them at the door, a beaming smile taking up the freckled cheeks (the skin of which, twists and burns but the boy pleasantly ignores it, choosing to pour focus into the hero’s) but when the men enter, they dump their shoes off at the door, and walk right past him.
Hizashi, even managing to walk right through him with a chill a second later racking his frame. “You okay, Hizashi?” Aizawa mutters, his eyes red and sore but concern swimming in his charcoal irises regardless. Izuku frowns in disappointment but understands the fact they can’t see him. He can’t even see him.
“Yeah. I just got really cold all of a sudden.”
“Could be stress. Making you sick and stuff.” Like stated before, these last few weeks have been difficult. It’s no surprise to either hero if they both became sick from all the stress.
“Probably.” The blonde sniffs, and Aizawa rubs his shoulders, placing a gentle kiss against his forehead. “Go lay down, love. I’ll make something quick for dinner.”
Hizashi grins somberly. Not being able to quite reach his usual playfulness. “Don’t burn the kitchen down.”
Aizawa, who was one that usually retorts something snarky after those comments, just smiles gently, not having it in himself either to play a bickering game with his beautiful husband.
By the end of the night, when the two gather at the table to eat, the mop of green-hair watches as the hero’s sit in the same spots they did when the time-traveler first visited their place, an empty bowl with chopsticks sat at the spot he once did before.
Maybe that’s what they did every night leading up to Shigaraki’s death, and by association his own?
The boy sits down, facing the two hero’s as tears begin to pool in the green-eyes of the blonde. His eyes going glassy, and wavering breaths of air leaving his nose. Closing his eyes he looks away, a few tears tracking down his cheeks, and looking over shows Aizawa not doing much better.
The hero reaches his arm over, curling it around his husbands shoulders, and pulling the man into his side a second time that night, as the black-haired hero stares at Izuku’s spot at the table, a small tear glittering in the man’s eye-line himself.
“We’re so sorry Izuku.” Aizawa whispers, his voice weak and quiet. Hizashi soon breaking into sobs at his husband’s shoulder.
“It’s okay. Neither of you did a damn thing wrong.” Izuku whispers back, just as quiet and broken. Tears running down the boys cheeks numbly, as he watches the two hero’s break down in their own ways, not being able to do a damn thing to comfort them.
It’s a begrudging decision, but eventually Izuku decides to leave, and no it’s not because his ghosts spirit can only do so much at once. But because he can’t stand around and see such a crest-fallen look on both of their faces any longer than necessary.
Getting up, he shuffles over to the two grieving hero’s and wraps his body around Hizashi’s sitting frame, leaning over and including Aizawa, at the twos shiver he leans away, with a sniffle and a small wipe to his cheek he disappears, neither of the hero’s none the wiser.