Between Illusion and Erasure

To go plus ultra, problem child.

TW\\ withdrawal symptoms, anxiety attacks, in canon violence 
Thank you Slipsy (CallMeCase) for being my beta reader and editor.

There was something about hero work that made your anxieties melt away for a moment; maybe it was the adrenaline that it gave, pumping high in your bloodstream while fighting, or maybe it was the silent night patrols where the most dangerous thing that you encountered was a drunken man needing directions to go back home. Whatever it was, it helped, and for the last five years you had denied yourself of that support.

News travels fast, especially when you tell them about a very drunk Kayama, and that was the only thing the group seemed to talk about when you were brought up. It didn't bother you, really, it was sweet. Yamada was mostly worried about your work and life balance, while Kayama seemed to work a way to convince you to go back in between every conversation, Aizawa only seemed to tease you about it. After a week of nagging and pushing, you decided to actually give it another try.

That is how you came to find out that U.A. had an on-campus gym, open twenty-four seven for staff and students. A proper gym, one where you could use to get your rusty ass moves in shape again. There were no excuses to fall back on now that you had this resource, and it was finally time to get yourself back in gear. You didn't live far away from campus at all, and being open at night meant no one else was going to be there — no one to judge – no one to observe.

Or that was how it was supposed to be, as soon as you opened the door, you were met with Aizawa. Seemingly lost in his own mind, each punch he landed made a loud 'smack' echo in the deserted gym. The orange walls reflected the light inside to the windows, to you, it looked like the outside had vanished, leaving nothing but the two of you in the leftover void.

He hadn't noticed you yet, and for a split second, your eyes wandered to his figure. He wasn't wearing his usual hero uniform, but a tank top that didn't fit him very well – leaving his collarbone and shoulders in full view — and oversized sweatpants that hit the floor with every sawing motion. Aizawa seemed comfortable in this space, and suddenly, a feeling of disgust washed over you.

Aizawa was working out, in his own space, after all. And here you were, intruding, and ogling him like some piece of meat. What right did you have to come in here and do that? How disrespectful does someone have to be to just show up and bother him like this. Your thoughts immediately kept bombarding you with stuff like this, overwhelming you with immediate regret for having decided to come to the gym.

For a second you considered turning back, coming here another day. A day he wasn't here, a day when your own thoughts of who he was in more intimate settings didn't overtake his own personal space, but before you could even set a foot outside, he noticed you. Because of course he did.

"What are you doing here?" His usual authoritarian tone was missing as he took out one of his headphones, the kind that Mic wouldn't be caught dead wearing. You couldn't face him directly.

"I could ask you the same, y'know that, right?" You placed down your gym bag, stretching your back. Well, you were already here, there was no reason to turn back, "I just didn't expect anyone to be here at night."

"This is the only time Eri is sleeping," he got back into a fighting stance, trying to focus on his sets once again – you could practically hear his thoughts, counting up how many sets he had already done, "You didn't answer my question."

"I gave in," you replied irritably, "To go back into hero work."

"Still doesn't really answer my question," he chuckled, catching you off guard. You'd seen him in so many casual settings at this point, but hearing him laugh still sent a pang of something through your stomach.