An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
New chapter!! :D bit of Hizashi angst for the soul 😘
~*~
Hizashi’s seen a lot of shit as a pro hero, but one thing he’ll never get used to is watching his friend fall apart. He doesn’t think it’s something he wants to get used to.
It,
It’s hard.
But he does it anyway. Pulls that grin into place, brings out the best of himself, and presents. If he can do it so easily for strangers, he can do it for his friend. Just- be present. He can do that. That’s his specialty.
“Hey, hey, deep breaths big guy.”
Shouta looks up at him with watering eyes, trying so hard to keep it together, but he doesn’t know if he sees him.
“He’s dead,“ his voice cracks, wavering unsteadily, “isn’t he, ‘zashi.”
He doesn’t ask about who he means; his chest twinges in that familiar way, the wound no longer raw but still aching. (He doesn’t think it’ll ever really heal, not fully).
He reminds himself to breathe, shaky and wet, and pulls his friend into his chest. (he forgets sometimes that they never really talked about this, never grieved through it together, forgets that Shouta just left-).
“Yeah,” he mumbles into his hair, voice feeling raw. “He is.”
Shouta tenses in his grip at the contact but doesn’t pull away, and slowly, he relaxes into the hug, hands hesitantly wrapping around his torso and twisting in the back of his t-shirt.
As he holds his friend and dampness soaks his shirt, the knot in his chest loosens just a little.
Eri’s time living at UA runs as smoothly as it can go. It only takes Eraser's terrible self-care habits to topple it. Aizawa and Eri learn to trust one another in the process (and maybe a lot of other people, too).
aka; obligatory Cherry sickfic with family feels?
________
When Eri was in the hospital, Lemillion visited every day.
The moment he was allowed in to see her, the hero couldn’t stop himself from dropping by and talking with her. While the doctors and nurses seemed too scared to touch Eri and her horn some days, Lemillion would sit on the edge of her bed, still covered in bandages himself, and hold her hand with his working arm.
Lemillion would stand there and smile whenever Eri would try to apologize for what she’d done to him, the damage she’d caused to everyone around them. He waved her off every single time with his non-casted hand, always with the same reasoning.
“Don’t let those villains get to you. I’ll keep telling you until you believe it. Leave everything up to the heroes now, okay?”
Lemillion would tell her stories when she felt well enough to stay awake for longer. He talked about the school he went to and the building he lived in with all his other friends. They were all heroes, too.
He talked about the man with the glasses, even if he sometimes got a different look on his face when he said his name. Sir Nighteye’s favourite thing was to make people laugh, Lemillion said. If heroes could do things with a smile, it would make everyone happier.
Eri didn’t know if she had it in her to smile. Lemillion told her that still didn’t make her bad.
“You’ve been through some pretty scary stuff. I don’t blame you for not wanting to smile. But you’ll be perked up and laughing in no time if I can help it!”
When Eri was in the hospital, she met Eraser, too.
He was nothing like Lemillion.
Meeting Eraser up close was nothing like when she saw him before. Not when she clung onto Deku and watched the man stand there at a distance like a speck in the rubble. His hair didn’t rise now like it had before, and Eri didn’t find herself falling to the ground this time, either.
Eraser didn’t look like the other heroes. At first, she wondered if he was a hero at all. Eri remembered hugging a pillow tight to her chest as they were properly introduced in her room, a barrier between her and the silent figure looming over her.
“Hello,” he greeted her much calmer than the rest of the adults she’d met. Everyone so far had flashed a big smile, talking loud and slow as if Eri didn’t speak their language. It wasn’t cold like the bad men but it was nothing like the other good people she’d met. “Shouta Aizawa. If Eraser is easier to remember, that’s fine.”
Eri couldn’t do much but stare, even though the bad men always said it was bad to stare. Eraser didn’t laugh like Lemillion or Deku. He didn’t try to exaggerate the look on his face to prove he was a real hero. Nothing in his outfit felt much like a hero, either. The scarf around his neck looked like it was choking him, and his outfit and hair faded into the hospital’s background of blacks, whites and greys.
After a long period of silence, the white-coat lady said something Eri couldn’t hear. Soon, Eraser had bent down to her level, head rising just over the side of the bed. She continued to sit cross-legged, clutching the pillow just in case.
“Eraser can make a person’s quirk disappear whenever he looks at them,” the white-coat lady smiled big, but Eri could feel the nervousness radiating off of her. “He can help when your horn makes you feel scared. Isn’t that nice?”
Eri remembered how she felt when Eraser first looked at her. It was like all the pressure in her head had vanished. Maybe he had a power that was the opposite of her’s. So who was good and who was bad? She felt her shoulders relax anyways as the man held his gaze.
“I work with kids,” Eraser, balanced on one knee, had said to her. His voice lacked any kind of tone at all. It was neither kind nor threatening, and Eri didn’t know what to make of it. “They’re older than you. Closer to Togata—Lemillion’s age.”
Eri felt her chest loosen up when he mentioned someone she knew. If Eraser knew the heroes that protected her, that meant he was good, right? After all, Eri hadn’t smiled once since staying here, and everyone kept calling her good, too. She thought back to what Lemillion had said about classes and friends and heroes, and managed to squeak out her first words to him.
“Do…you go to hero school with Lemillion?”
Eraser blinked a few times in response, and Eri watched with wide eyes as the corner of his mouth twitched, upturned despite everything else in his face remaining stone cold. It must have stayed like that for a fraction of a second, yet Eri remembered seeing it as clear as day.
“You could say that.”
When Deku and Lemillion came for their next visit, the nurses and Eraser had already told her she’d be moving under his care. The two heroes must have been told about it, too. It was like they could sense her unease about it without even having to ask.
“Don’t be scared of Eraser,” Lemillion sported his usual grin as Deku sorted through the assorted fruit basket they’d brought with them. It was becoming more and more of a routine now that Eri had let it slip how much she liked it. “I know he looks pretty scary, but that’s just how he is. On the inside, he’s a real softie.”
“Softly?” Eri tried to understand. The healing wounds all the way up her arms itched, but she knew the others wouldn’t like it if she scratched at it.
Lemillion smiled bigger, in a way that only happened when she messed up her words.
“Softie,” Deku repeated with an equally gentle look on his face. “It means that Mr. Aiz—Eraser might look mean, but he still wants to protect everyone as much as Lemillon and I do!”
Eri felt her hands release their grip from the layers of blanket overtop her. Lemillion held up the fruit basket, letting the handle hang from his bandaged forearm.
“He’s a strange guy,” Lemillion said, “He doesn’t really dress or act like all the heroes on tv, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t one. He wants to make sure people are safe—even us heroes! That’s why he’s a teacher. Do you get it?”
Eri didn’t quite think she did. Heroes helped people, saved people. They always said that. If Eraser saves people, why does he act like he doesn’t?
Lemillion looked puzzled for a moment before looking down at the fruit basket still hanging from his arm.
“Look at this, Eri. Pretend you’re a peach. Or no—you’re the apple, okay? I’m the peach, and Deku can be the kiwi,” Lemillion set the basket down and pointed at each piece of fruit. Eri could tell by his face that he was thinking really hard about what to say next. “Fruits are awesome, but they can’t just sit on their own, right? They could roll away, or fall down, or get stepped on! So is there something making sure they don’t do all those things?”
Eri watched as Lemillion dumped out the rest of the fruit, letting them sit unprotected on the bed. Deku looked just as confused as she felt, but Eri soon reached out her hand and tentatively touched the wicker structure.
“Basket,” she finally said. Lemillion beamed and placed a hand overtop her head. It made her chest feel warm.
“You’ve got it!” he said, “The basket’s hard to think about with all the flashy fruit sitting in it, right? We’re all nice and guarded without even realizing.”
Eri nodded slowly, and Deku spoke up again.
“Togata…you should totally be a teacher,” his eyes shone with admiration, and Eri felt warmer as he turned to her, “I think about certain foods when I use my quirk, too. I think that’s a perfect way to describe Mr. Aizawa.”
Lemillion laughed again, ruffling Deku’s hair this time before turning back to Eri.
“But there’s something else you really need to think about,” Lemillion stretched out his fingers and pointed to her forehead, “You’ve gotta remember that even though we need the basket, it needs us in there, too. That’s the type of hero Eraser is. How else can a fruit basket be a fruit basket? ”
Eri stared down at the basket again, watching as Deku began to load it back up with fruit. Her eyes couldn’t tear away from it now. She tried to imagine Eraser standing between them, his sharp eyes making sure everything was okay, even if he wasn’t as warm and smiley as the other heroes.
Even if he didn't look like it at first, Eraser still carried all the fruit.
Eri could try and understand that.
***
Eri knew the heroes gave her nice things because she was good. She didn’t need the bad room with the bad men anymore. The heroes would make her happy if she followed all their rules.
She must have followed all their rules especially well. After learning all about fruit, Eri visited UA more times than she could count. Without realizing it at first, she found Lemillion was right about learning how to smile.
When things felt right, he and Deku helped decorate Eri’s new room. It felt so much warmer than the bad room with the bad men. Her bed didn’t feel so lumpy, and she could see the sunlight brighten up the space where she sat on the floor to play. Eri was allowed to fill it with her favourite colours and as many toys as she wanted, and the walls here weren’t made of cold cement.
Deku finished off the set-up by placing a calendar on the wall. It had different photographs of a man with golden hair and two spikes sticking straight up like bunny ears. Eri thought she’d seen him on tv.
NOVEMBER IS HERE!! it said boldly in blue at the top. Deku read it out loud to her and laughed to himself, but Eri didn’t quite get the joke.
She didn’t care too much about what the calendar looked like, instead fixated on how she could count the days herself. Lemilliom and Deku helped circle the days that certain things would happen. They could tell her what and when, ask her what she wanted or how she felt about it.
That part was Eraser’s idea. It should help make you feel more comfortable, having some control over your time here, he said as he passed Deku that blue marker.
Eraser was a hero who really liked rules, but Eri learned more things about him the more they spent time together. She decided that the others were right about him.
Eraser took her shopping for new clothes after her first night under his care. He told Eri that he liked cats when she tried on a sweater covered in them. He said he could find a way to allow a real one on campus if she ever wanted one.
Eraser always made sure she had something fun to do, and never made Eri do anything she didn’t want to. He filled the fridge with snacks on their third day together once he found out what she liked. He told her she could eat whenever she felt hungry, that she didn’t need to wait for him in between meals. Eri was worried he’d be unhappy if she told him the bad men barely let her eat at all.
Eraser put on shows for Eri and sat on the other end of the couch when he had to work with a pen and a big stack of papers. He would read stories to her before bedtime, even if he wouldn’t do the voices like Lemillion and Deku.
Eraser brushed her hair in the mornings. It so much gentler than the bad men had ever been. When he caught Eri shrinking away from it, Eraser didn’t even get angry. He sat cross-legged next to her on the floor and placed the brush in her hands, pointing at his equally unkempt mop of hair.
“Show me how you’d like it done.”
He said that a lot. Eraser always gave Eri that option to choose—to control things herself and make everything unknown feel less scary. He would let Eri swim out to the deep end all while standing right next to her. He always made sure it turned out okay.
Eri could see the smile in his eyes, even when she couldn’t smile herself.
Sometimes, Eraser came home with bandaged arms and legs. He’d return with his body bruised and his hair wrapped up and smelling like the hospital. He talked about how it was all just a part of protecting people.
On worse days, his chest would be too fragile for Eri to rest her head against, or he’d wince at the bright kitchen lights at dinnertime and announce they were getting takeout instead. Other nights, his eyes would droop and he would fall asleep when they watched movies together. He’d wake up just in time to help Eri get ready for bed.
On the hardest days, Eraser would stare right through the wall until Eri had to tap him on the shoulder. Even if Eri could tell how hard it was, he would leap into a sort of hero mode that reminded her of Deku. He would take extra long naps and take medicine with his food that loosened his muscles, but it never stopped her from feeling any less like a fruit in a basket.
Beyond everything else, even if Lemillion and Deku had warned her that he wouldn’t, Eraser always made time to smile.
It was never a big one like everyone else gave her, but his mouth moved in that familiar upturned fashion she first recognized back in the hospital. His eyes always looked too tired but some of the darkness sitting past his lashes would disappear when he looked down at her.
It was how Eri knew she really was a fruit, just like Lemillion said.
Today though, something felt wrong. Bad.
This morning, Eraser didn’t feel like Eraser at all.
When the little clock in her room read the time, Eri realized Eraser never came to wake her up. He hadn’t said good morning when Eri made her way into the kitchen either, still in her pyjamas.
He barely turned his head away from the mysterious machine that made him coffee. Eri wasn’t allowed to have it yet, it was supposed to keep adults awake. Today, it couldn’t keep Eraser awake enough.
“My class has a training day with the upper-years. That means no lessons,” the man made his way over to the table, speaking the first words from either of them that morning. He placed a bowl of apple oatmeal in front of her. No cinnamon today—Eri stuck her pinky into it and tasted honey.
“So no school?” she asked curiously. The energy around her guardian felt strangely uneasy. Eri looked up at him and noticed his eyes looked more vacant than normal, already weighed down by the day despite it only just beginning.
“No school for them,” he corrected her, “I’m still very busy today. Midoriya and Togata won’t be able to join you today. I can ask them to keep you company tomorrow.”
Eri knew better than to ask why he was busy. When Eraser said he had to go to work, Eri knew she had to stay out of the way. The bad men had taught her that. Some things they said still helped her, even at UA.
“Okay,” she replied, but something in the man’s eyes still seemed wrong. He didn’t look at her like he usually did. Eraser’s eyes squinted down at his half-finished cup, his eyes glazed over. His breakfast was nowhere to be seen.
Eraser’s face seemed whiter than it did before, too. It looked strikingly pale in contrast to his all-black outfit. The bad men—back before she’d met everyone here—their faces always turned white when Eri used her horn. It was because she’d done something scary, something wrong. Had she done something wrong here, too?
Eri looked down at her plate, almost empty now. Eraser had his head balanced on his hand, resting a fist on his forehead and his elbow on the table. Eri tensed and waited for him to tell her what she did, the things she’d finally done wrong enough to make him angry.
He said nothing, so she waited for his smile, instead. When that still resulted in nothing, Eri felt her chest swarm with unease. Eraser’s eyes flickered over to her with an unfamiliar exhaustion.
“Finished?” he gestured to her plate and Eri eyed the glass of milk, still half full. He liked when she finished it. Maybe he was waiting for that.
Pressing the cup to her mouth, she downed it in one go. She watched eagerly for his reaction, but it never came. Fingers now pressed to the bridge of his nose, Eraser stood up and stuck her plates in the sink.
“If you’re able to find something quiet to do today, that would be very helpful, Eri.”
Eri could be quiet. She was the best at being quiet. She could hold her breath, still her movements. She’d grown used to hiding behind doors and in between cracks. She could follow all the rules because rules were important, and rules made them all happy.
When she was especially good, Eraser had a type of smile just for her. His mouth would move upward slightly, the skin around his eyes would soften. When she was good, he would bend down and place his hand on her head, and when she was bad, he would place her in front of him, letting his eyes focus gently, hair raising until her horn didn’t hurt anymore.
He was watching her, always. He never said it out loud, but Eri could feel the warmth that came with his eyes. Lemillion said that when he watched her like that, it was like having armor. He said it was like an invisible piece of clothing on her that made her safer. Something she could feel over her chest but not see.
Eraser was an adult—a hero—and made sure everything was okay. Eri didn’t want him to stop.
But no matter what happened that morning, he still wouldn’t smile at her like he always did.
Eraser was tired after breakfast, even after finishing his coffee. He didn’t say it, but Eri always knew when it was time for him to take a nap. The spots underneath his eyes were too dark and he tried too hard to squint.
He didn’t smile when Eri drank all her milk or tried to bring her plate to the kitchen all by herself. He didn’t notice how Eri had gotten on her favorite dress all by herself without any of his help, even if she usually needed him to do up the zipper at the end. She clipped the barrettes that Deku’s friends gave her into her hair without help, too. He didn’t seem to notice, disappearing into his office the moment dishes were done.
“I’m very busy today,” bounced around in her head as she sat in her room. Her heart hurt when she looked around at everything everyone gave her.
Keeping quiet and small should have been easy now, with all these toys in her room. She even had a window to look out of this time. There was so much more to draw when she could sit on the edge of her bed and stare out of it.
When Eri was first in the hospital, she drew Deku in the sky back when he first introduced himself. It was just with pencil, but he put it up in his room and showed it to her when she was finally allowed to visit. She drew Eraser the first time he spent all day with her in the hospital. He stood on the ground and his hair flew up in the air. The next day, he came back with one hundred crayons, and it was the first time he really smiled at her. He sat on the edge of the bed and let her hold them up to his hair, trying to find the one that matched.
Eraser had one of her drawings in his office now. Maybe he wanted another one, and it would make him change his mind about her.
Eri sat on the floor and looked through the pink box that held her crayons. She tried to draw Eraser but she couldn’t get his mouth right. Eri closed her eyes and tried to remember how his face was supposed to soften and crinkle when he looked down at her, but she couldn’t think of anything but his words to her this morning. It was like she was barely there in front of him.
She drew Lemillion instead, and hid it away for when she saw him next. Then Eri thought about the story he told her about the fruit, and she drew an apple and a peach in a tiny basket. It looked so much like the basket he and Deku had brought her that Eraser was sure to like it, too.
When she snuck around the corner and peered into his office, the feeling from before came back. Her drawing didn’t seem so nice now. She hid it behind her back just in case. Eri’s eyes surveyed the top of his desk for the picture she once watched him stick in a frame on his desk. Eraser wasn’t looking at it today. He looked just as unhappy staring at nothing than he did staring down at her this morning.
Did she do something bad and didn’t know? Was he waiting for her to say sorry? Eri opened her mouth and thought to get the man’s attention, but bad men came back into her head.
“Sorry for what?” she remembered the worst of them saying. “You think just being sorry is going to fix the bad things you do to other people? You’re gonna need to pay it forward some other way.”
He was always so mean. But he wasn’t ever wrong when he talked about her mistakes. She had done so many bad things, and maybe Eraser just didn’t know about all of them when he took her home with him. Maybe he knew now. Or maybe she just wasn’t doing her part anymore.
Eri knew better. She’d spent all her time with Eraser trying to be good, but it wasn’t enough. Eri hadn’t been good at all.
“Eri.”
She jumped back when Eraser’s desk chair spun around, and he spotted her by the door. His eyes unfocused when he noticed her there, and Eri found herself too frozen in place to speak. Eraser’s eyes looked twice as clouded. Eri gripped the drawing tightly behind her back.
“What is it?” his eyes wrenched themselves open as he spoke, as if it hurt to open his mouth. Eraser’s voice sounded harsher than normal. He sighed into his hand, pushing his hair back, away from his eyes. “Do you need something?”
“No,” Eri shook her head. The thought to apologize for bothering him almost slipped out of her mouth, but she thought back to what the man used to say. Sorry for what? What will sorry do now?
“I have a lot to do today,” he repeated, even though Eri already knew he was busy. She was good at listening because it was part of the rules. “Are you getting bored?”
Eri shook her head again. Busy meant she had to stay quiet, even if Eraser had never done anything mean to her when she wasn’t quiet.
Eraser must have seen the look on her face, because he narrowed his eyes at her and the drawing she held behind her back. Eri tried to transform her expression into something else. Lemillion could do it so easily. When he thought no one was looking, his face would move into a frown, like he was thinking hard about something. It would shatter the moment Eri would grab onto his pant leg or call his name.
She couldn’t do it as well as Lemillion but Eri could feel the lines of her mouth move into a smile.
“I was…just looking,” her voice wobbled, but she felt determined to keep that cheerful expression. It was greedy but she hoped Eraser would see the look on her face and give her that piece of reassurance she’d been looking for since waking up. Then she could smile for real.
“Alright. Go find something to do,” Eraser spoke to Eri like he spoke to his students, tone sharp and targeted right at her. His response felt delayed, like his body was just now catching up to his brain. Eri watched as the man blinked a few times, hand resting inside his hair, before softening his expression a bit. “We’ll have lunch in an hour. Unless you’re hungry now.”
It still wasn’t enough to make him smile.
***
Eraser didn’t want to eat lunch with her.
The hour that he promised quickly became two, and Eri snuck past his office doorway, down the hall and to the fridge to grab a pouch of apple sauce in the meantime. The action felt bad, even if Eraser always said she could eat when she was hungry. The bad men always decided when it was time for that.
Eri knew Eraser wasn’t bad. He just didn’t look like fruit, like the rest of the heroes who rescued her. He was the basket, like Lemillion said. But still….she’d never seen him like this, even when he was really tired.
Even if he wasn’t bad, Eri still winced when she heard his footsteps coming down the hall. When Eraser came into the kitchen, he barely gave her a second glance. He didn’t say anything about the snack in her hand, only muttering an apology about being late.
Eri felt confusion take hold of her like tendrils. Eraser said sorry, even if it was barely directed to her face. Did that mean it was her turn?
She watched from her spot next to the table as Eraser grabbed things out of cupboards and drawers. He looked even more unhappy than before.
Within minutes, a sandwich and a sliced orange had appeared on the table. The man poured himself another cup of coffee as he set down a plastic cup of water for Eri.
She ate in silence, wondering what she could possibly say to make things good again. Eraser’s face had paled more since breakfast. Sweat glistened off his face, which was still set in a distant frown. He had one hand clenched on the table, the other trembling as it held his mug. He didn’t make any food for himself.
“Are you hungry?” she finally asked. Eraser blinked a few times, as if his mind wasn’t really in the room until now.
Finally, he settled on saying, “Don’t worry about me.”
Eri had a really hard time not worrying. She wanted to know what was wrong, if she could make things better. She wanted things to be like how they were a few days ago when everyone felt good and no one was afraid of smiling. She didn’t know where to start. She didn't know how to start.
“I’m sorry,” Eri ducked her head down, her voice coming out in a whisper.
Eraser stopped, and for a moment, Eri thought he would turn around and bend to one knee and address her. She liked when he came down to her level to speak. That usually meant there’d be a smile. Today was different though, different in a way Eri couldn’t put into words.
“Sorry,” he repeated her words in a half-attentive mutter. He shook his head slowly, as if barely taking in the words. “Sorry for what?”
It came out like a bullet. He sounded annoyed at best. At worst, it...
Eri didn’t know if he meant to—he was the basket, not the fruit, and he wasn’t supposed to be scary—but he sounded like the bad men. It made her chest hurt all over, her stomach sink as the man looked down at her, just as irritated as before. His pale hand shook next to him, she could see it resting on the kitchen counter. The worst of the men always trembled when he got really angry.
Eri didn’t know what she was sorry for. She didn’t know how to fix what she was sorry for, either. Instead, she sat glued to her chair, unable to move as Eraser finished cleaning up. It was messy, the way he left all the dishes in the sink, including his mug of coffee. Eri couldn’t see much through her shield of hair but she knew he had to be angry with her. Her eyes felt watery, and focused all her energy on holding back the lump in her throat.
Eri only lifted her head when she heard the tv playing in the next room. Eraser, an arm wrapped tightly around his chest, held the remote in his other hand. He flicked it to a show that she recognized, something that Deku’s friends at the dorms let her watch one evening. When she wandered in, he gestured vaguely to the couch.
“This must not be fun for you,” Eraser forced out in a short, painful breath. “I’ll have Midoriya or Togata take you out this weekend so you won’t be stuck here with me again.”
His voice had a layer of breathlessness, as if walking across the room was like running one of the races she watched on tv with Lemillion. Eraser let the remote drop between the couch cushions, allowing his spare hand to grip the end of the couch like a lifeline. He still wouldn’t look at her. Eri’s eyes burned as she stared into the back of his head, slowly making his way back down the hall to his work.
Eri had forgotten all about coaxing out his smile by dinner.
She thought long and hard about what to say to him when he would surely emerge from his office again, even if it wouldn’t cause his mouth to upturn.
Eraser always made her dinner, every evening without fail. Even on the days when he was tired or hurt or sad and trying not to show it. He would come into the kitchen, ruffle her hair, and ask her what she wanted. On most nights he would give it to her alongside something she’d never eaten before. On really tired days, he would pull out his phone and let her pick something to eat that would come to their door in paper bags and plastic containers.
Today was more different than Eri had ever seen.
She wasn’t very good at reading the clock on the wall, but hunger rippled through her enough to know it was time to eat. The feeling made her arms weak. The television still blared beside her, playing a show she didn’t recognize. Not able to wait any longer, she got up and checked the clock on the oven.
5:56.
Eraser liked making dinner at 5, but today he was busy. Eri knew he would want her to wait. She wondered for a moment if it was okay for her to eat a snack in the meantime, but hunger took over and forced her to step over to the fridge.
After a cheese string and four more episodes of a show she didn’t like at all, Eri crept back into the kitchen to stare at the clock.
6:42.
The sun started to go down, and Eri couldn’t discern between hunger and anxiety. The achy feeling behind her eyes re-emerged when she thought about bothering him again.
Eraser’s office door was still wide open when Eri walked over to it, the lights off. She wondered if maybe he just forgot. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Eri wished she could make her own dinner. She always caused so much trouble.
“Eraser?” She called out softly.
Eri knew she couldn’t have everything she wanted. She already had more than she needed. But selfishly, she wanted the Eraser that she’d grown used to again.
Smoothing out her dress and balling up her fists, Eri walked into his darkened office. Sure enough, he was fast asleep at his desk, head lulled uncomfortably to the side.
“Eraser,” she said, louder.
The man stirred before lifting his head up. Eraser was slow, as if he was made of metal, and he turned to speak to her once he realized the source of his wake-up call.
“I told you, I’m—” Eraser began to speak, just as irritated as before, but he stopped himself. The man looked around at the sunset glow coming from the window, then at his phone.
“Oh,” he muttered, suddenly more awake now. A string of words under his breath that Eri wasn’t allowed to say accompanied it. “It’s—late. I didn’t mean for—”
The man rose out of his desk chair too quickly. His train of thought never finished as he wheeled the chair to the side, swaying on his feet. Eri watched with surprise as he took three steps forward, gripped the doorway with both hands, and stumbled blindly into the hall.
Eraser landed soft against the opposite wall, and he hung there in a half-stance until his head fell back with the rest of his body. He slid to the ground, body limp, eyes barely open.
“Oh no,” she parroted what Lemillion would have said, except he was always calm, even when Eri found herself tripping and falling. “Oh no…are you okay?”
Eraser always answered her questions. It didn’t matter if Eri thought they were too small. He even answered the ones that the bad men never liked to hear, and he never locked her away or took things away, no matter what she asked.
This time, Eraser barely looked at her. The last time she saw his chest rise and fall so quickly was when they first met. She sat upon Deku’s back and Eraser’s hair was up in the air, and for the first time, she didn’t feel like she could hurt anyone at all.
Eraser said she didn’t have to worry about hurting people again, but maybe she just didn’t know she was hurting people. Eraser looked hurt, and all he’d done was be with her today.
“Eraser?” Eri asked again. Her voice wobbled, and suddenly so did the rest of the world as tears began to fill her wide eyes. She placed a hand on his arm and shook it. “Are you okay, Eraser?”
This time, he blinked his eyes open in response. His gaze refocused, looking a little too glassy now. The man narrowed his eyes at her, beads of sweat causing hair to stick to his face. Eri felt scared, even if he wasn’t supposed to be scary.
“Eri…” his words sounded jumbled, like he was digging them up out of his chest. “Dinner. Five minutes, and I promise I’ll…”
Eri didn’t care about dinner. Something was really, really wrong and she didn’t know how to make it better. His hand pressed deeper into his face. He looked hurt, covering his eyes like he was scared of the light. Eri darted out of the hallway and past the television.
Sometimes, she felt too bad to get up from off the ground, too. Eri stared at the kitchen tiles and tried to remember what the others would do for her.
Water. Eraser looked too hot. Eri could feel the heat coming off of him, even with his sleeve as a barrier between their skin. He needed water. She could get him that, couldn’t she?
Eri made a run for the plastic cup still sitting on the table, forgotten by both of them from lunch. The other heroes always took care of her, always made sure she was okay. She just wanted to help Eraser, show him that she wasn't such trouble when she put her mind to it, but…
As Eri ran over to the sink, she felt the hot feeling sticking to the back of her neck freeze over. When Eraser washed dishes, it didn’t look so tall. Now that she was alone, it was towering.
She couldn’t reach it by herself.
Her eyes clouded over with watery frustration, and her eyes flew over to the table. She had a stool somewhere, one that helped her reach the kitchen and bathroom counters, but Eri couldn’t remember where Eraser put it after a piece of it broke off.
I’ll get you a new one this weekend, she remembered him saying.
She was just so much trouble.
With tiny, trembling hands, Eri ran aimlessly towards the table and chairs, attempting to drag one of them out from under the table. She was too weak. Too small. It scraped against the floor, barely moving an inch from where she started. Any solution—any other thinking at all—flew right out the window.
The tears that had welled up minutes ago finally spilled over, and the bottom of her chin felt wet before she could even think to wipe the tears away. Eri couldn’t do anything. She was useless and helpless, and that was bad. She couldn’t do anything on her own like everyone else could.
She wanted to collapse to the floor now, too, right next to Eraser and have him lean over and stick a hand in her hair. He wanted him to tell her that she tried her best. Eri knew Eraser would never say that now, especially after how much she’d bothered him today. This whole thing must have been her fault. Maybe she got sick with something at the hospital and gave it to him. Maybe she made him too tired. Maybe she used her horn again without realizing it.
Eri felt even more like melting down than she had all day, even though the whole day was nothing but wrong.
But…Eraser felt too bad to get up. Eri could tell it was worse. Something was wrong, and he wouldn’t smile, and the only thing she could do now was collapse next to him and cry.
A hero wasn’t supposed to do that, but Eri wasn’t a hero. She needed help—they both needed help. Maybe there was something else she could still do.
Cup still in hand, she raced back down the hall, past Eraser who had unfolded himself and leaned a bit more alertly against the wall. Eri thought she heard him call out her name as she pushed open the door to her room and opened up the bag she always wore with her outside. The little phone she carried had all the heroes she knew in one place. As her eyes darted across contact photos, her eyes landed on the one she recognized most.
She had yet to use it even once, but…
Eri could only hope a hero would answer her call.
________
If you made it this far down, hello! And thank you for reading! Do let me know if you enjoyed ;)
I made an art for the wonderful g_e_e on AO3 for their amnesiac Aizawa fic. I am OBSESSED and have no words for how descriptive and mind-blowing their writing is.
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