Does he have the right to be upset? With the lives lost laying on his back, dragging at his spine like weights and feeling heavy on his shoulders? Toshinori has no idea what Aizawa actually did, what he’s responsible for. “I’m..” Telling him he’s sorry won’t do Aizawa much good, instead he looks to the couch where Toshinori has set himself down and carefully moves over to take a seat. The unshed tears cause his head to ache and no matter how much he rubs at his stinging eyes the tears won’t fall. ‘Damned dry eye’ Aizawa thinks to himself along the jumbled mess of guilty apologies and accusations of responsibility. “I knew her.. I..” Fuck, it makes no sense. No matter which way he tries to explain what happened his words make no sense if Toshinori has no idea who he’s even talking about. “The girl… I..The hero th..” Failing in his sentences Aizawa motions to his phone left on the table. “I got her her license.” It was his fault, if he had simply been stricter she would have been alive still.
Toshinori would be lying if he said he didn’t know exactly what Aizawa was going through.
It wasn’t fair, the number of times he’d had to watch people die simply because he wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough, or wasn’t able to do anything. The amount of self-hatred, the guilt, the blame... It truly was a difficult line of work, being a hero.
Letting his head fall a bit, he leaned slightly into Aizawa’s side, hoping the minimal contact would serve to comfort the black-haired man in some way. (And, if it didn’t, Aizawa could easily pull away.) Toshinori didn’t move to place a hand on his partner’s shoulder as he wished to; instead, he hefted a heavy sigh, letting his hands fall limply back to his lap.
“That doesn’t make it your fault.” He was cautious in his phrasing, choosing his words carefully.
“It is always the villain’s fault in these circumstances; not the victims, and certainly not yours.” He had the feeling that his words did not carry much weight nor comfort, but there really wasn’t much he could say.
