Fragmented Shift

25

It was nostalgic, being back in Aizawa-San's house. Nothing had changed in the years since they'd last been here, they could almost hear themselves whispering in Izuku's mind- telling him to stay. They wondered if they would've sat on the sofa late at night when they couldn't sleep, squished between the two men watching TV. Or how many meals they would've had sitting at the dining room table and whether it was a group thing full of talking and smiles.

Was it possible to feel nostalgic over something Yoi wished had happened? Memories they wanted instead of had? Their stomach hurt with how much they yearned.

"Hey," Present-(call me Hizashi or Yamada!)-Mic cooed from beside them "Everything ok?"

/Why wouldn't it be?/ 

Seeing the confusion on their face, Yamada smiled sadly. "You're crying."

Oh

Lifting a hand to their cheek, they found that the loud man was right.

"Huh," their chuckle was hollow, nonplussed. "I didn't realise." They ignored the concerned gaze and moved further into the house, taking in the pictures dotted around the living room with smiling faces and well meaning scowls.

There weren't any pictures like that at home.

There was one lone picture and it was in Izuku's mothers room. It was of Inko and Hisashi on their wedding day and not a day went by that they didn't hear her crying as she cleaned it.

They should feel upset about that, shouldn't they? There was just an emptiness in Yoi's chest whenever they thought of the woman that birthed them, and they didn't know whether it was by design but they didn't feel much negative emotion at all, always calm and logical no matter what they had been told or experienced.

"Hey kid, want me to show you your room?" Absently they followed, world blurring a little around the edges as they were guided, Aizawa's baritone washing over them in a wave of meaningless noise until an undetermined amount of time later they found themselves sitting on the edge of the bed, body aching in a way that told them they hadn't moved in a while.

"Back with us?" Head turning, Yoi grimaced at the sensation of cotton wool in their joints, the creaking of their neck tickling their eardrums.

"How long?" 

"A few hours," Aizawa replied, groaning as he lifted himself off of the mattress, "Hizashi insisted on waiting for dinner, so I'll let him know to start- that is if you feel up to it. You can eat here if you want?" Instantly Izuku surged forwards, pressing behind their eyes in a headache of anxiety and panic and we-can't-say-no-that-would-be-rude that made them rub the bridge of their nose between pointer and thumb to try and stave off the pain.

"We'll be out in a minute."

*

Shouta left the room with an air of muted worry and reluctance. He could tell the boy in their spare room wasn't in the right frame of mind to be left alone for long, but could also tell that hovering wouldn't be welcome when all he wanted to do was wrap the small boy in his sleeping bag and guard him from the world with bared teeth and glowing eyes.

Entering the kitchen lifted his mood slightly as his eyes fell upon his husband humming quietly as he cooked and couldn't help but wrap his arms around the other's thin waist and rest his forehead between surprisingly muscled shoulders.

Hizashi, his wonderful, understanding husband, said nothing and just hummed a little louder as he worked around the new weight; giving Shouta time to pull himself back together.