Exhaustion is no stranger to Aizawa. It saturates every fiber of his being, a result of too many sleepless nights and too much responsibility. By day he teaches, endlessly grading papers and planning lessons, and by night he saves lives- a hero, in high demand for his willingness to take unpleasant work. There’s been nights he barely finishes patrol in time to get to school on time, and that’s his situation at the moment.
Even coffee fails to wake him up. He’s just drained one mug of the bitter liquid, and he rises from his seat to retrieve another, but his body protests the action. The moment he’s upright his legs buckle underneath him and he pitches forward, mug slipping from his fingers.
When he’s conscious again- just a few moments, thankfully- there are two arms holding him upright and shards of ceramic on the ground near him. Ruefully, he tries to be thankful that the cup was at least empty. He lifts his gaze to see his savior, and he can’t even be surprised at the face greeting him.
“… I guess I should thank you, All Might.” His voice is slow and reluctant- this is an admission of weakness. He needed help, he inconvenienced his coworker. Despite that, he attempts to maintain his usual quiet dignity, unsteadily getting his feet back under his body so he can support his own weight. Belatedly, he continues. “And apologize. I hope I didn’t startle you too much. I… ah, I should probably clean up this mess.”
It’s a subtle change, but something about his voice sounds thinner than usual, his typical baritone failing to resonate even in the small confines of the teacher’s lounge.
“ Ah, no need, my friend ! “ Toshinori gently lets go as soon as he’s confirmed that Aizawa is back on his own two feet. Suddenly unsure where he should put his hands in case Aizawa had another fainting spell, he claps his hands together.
True, suddenly seeing his coworker nearly topple over had startled him, but Toshinori can’t find it in himself to be annoyed. In fact, he reached out on instinct to catch the man before he tumbled like his mug had.
“ You seem tired, Aizawa. More so than usual, I might add. Let me clean this up. Go rest. “
Before Aizawa can even start to protest, Toshinori settles onto the floor, carefully gathering the biggest pieces of the broken mug. He’ll need to grab a pair of gloves or a towel in order to really clean it up, but for now, he doesn’t want anyone stepping in it. Ceramic can be sharp.
