BNHA Oneshots (x reader, ships, etc.)

!F!💔| Home to Me| Shota Aizawa

TW/CW: death angst, grief

A/N: y'all should know by now that I don't do the soft stuff without some kind of pain to follow

________________________________________________________________________________

Everyone else had long since departed, the sun starting to set over the lone figure standing beside the fresh grave. He won't allow himself to cry, not yet. Not now. Part of him questions if he even has any tears left in him: he shed so many that night, so many more than he ever thought humanly possible. Part of him wants to scream, to break something, anything to lessen the weight on his chest and the pain in his heart. How cruel it was, for today to be so sunny, so bright and clear, for the world to be so damn cheerful when he'd lost everything, when he'd lost her. 

He was a hero, had been for years. He knew the risks, knew what came with the job, knew that sometimes, going to work meant never coming home. It was a fact he'd long since accepted for himself. But for her? That was an outcome he'd never anticipated; one he'd always feared and would never have been able to prepare himself for. She'd known the risks, they both had, that was just the life of a hero, but...

But dammit, why did it have to be her?

It was just supposed to be a regular rescue mission, a few civilians to pull out of a collapsed tower in downtown Musutafu. There weren't any villains involved, it was considered a low-risk situation, and she'd been nearby when it had happened, had been one of the top choices for it because of her quirk and skill with rescue missions. He'd been out of town, on a trip with his students. She'd told him she'd call when she was done. Like she always did. 

That phone call never came, that last text seeming to mock him even now. The last words he ever got from her were a simple, "I'll talk to you later, Sho. Love you <3." His response wasn't even read, had been left on delivered: she'd always been so damn dedicated to work, just like him. He'd loved that about her, so much... But what he'd loved had led to her never even seeing that last "I love you, too" from him, and God, how that haunted him. Those words he never got to say, that goodbye he never could've prepared himself for, all the "I love you"s that he bit back for years until he'd finally confessed. All the things he wanted to say, wanted to do, all the memories he wanted to have with her, erased in the blink of an eye, dreams and plans crushed beneath the rubble when that tower fully sank into itself. It only took one life, according to the news, but to Shota, it took everything.

He stares at the headstone, eyes lingering on the shadows of those engraved letters and numbers. She had hated her surname; Shota had wanted to propose for the past year and just never got the nerve. Now he'd never get the chance to give her a surname she actually would've liked. They'd talked about it before, even shared a few light jokes about making her an "Aizawa". It wasn't long before Shota had started longing to call see her name as "Y/N Aizawa" instead of "Y/N L/N". 

She was only 28, 3 years younger than him. She'd be 29 in two months if fate hadn't had other plans. They would've celebrated their 3 year anniversary tomorrow. Yesterday would've been the anniversary of the day they first met. He would've been in love with her for 5 years the day after she was taken from him. He would've proposed two days ago, he tells himself, if he'd just had more time. 

He would've done a lot of things, if he'd just had more time. 

He doesn't realize he's crying until a full sob forces its way from his throat, doesn't realize his legs are shaking until his knees buckle and he hits the ground next to the freshly packed earth. He tries to grit his teeth against the pain, against the tears, but grief has a way of coming to the surface no matter how deep you try to bury it. But maybe that's the problem, because six feet of earth separate him from the one he'd loved, and if grief is love with no place to go, then maybe burying things can only do so much. Maybe that's why it felt like his soul had been cleaved in two, because half of it was no longer here, and the love he'd held for his other half no longer has a place to call home. Maybe it's just his soul as a whole that has lost it's safe place entirely. 

His mind whirls, memories and thoughts and emotions swirling and colliding in a massive storm in his brain, in his chest. Gentle hands, holding him when he'd started to get lost. Warm breaths, whispering over his skin as they lay together after long days on the job. Soft lips, brushing tenderly against his own, ghosting over his scars, whispering gentle reassurances and sweet nothings in the early mornings. Those eyes, always so full of love for him, always so bright and happy, so damn lively. The way her voice sounded, how it'd always calm the storm of his thoughts, the way her laugh would lift the weight of the world from his shoulders, how her smile would light up even the darkest corners of his mind. The way she'd say his name as if he were the only thing that truly mattered to her. 

 So much love, they'd once shared, now with no place to go. So many dreams, now with no real chance of ever being reached. So many plans for the future, snuffed out with her final breath. So many promises, broken like fragile bones under the weight of an eight-story tower. 

One promise echoes over and over in his mind, taunting him from all corners of his mind. It was a promise they'd made when they first started dating, a promise all hero couples make and can only pray to keep: the promise to return home when the day is done. It was a promise they relied on, a promise they'd cling to when one or the other was on a dangerous mission or just any time they left home. 

 "Stay safe."
"Always, Sho. I promised."
And he'd always smile and sigh, doing his best to relax.
And she'd always come home with a smile. 
Until she didn't come home at all. 
Until the only thing that came home was her hero tags and a medal, meant for a ghost that'd never wear it. 

"...You were supposed to come home, dammit." He curses, voice breaking as he stares at the headstone before him. "You promised me you would."

The only response he receives is the soft summer breeze that rustles through the trees, a bird's song playing in the distance. She would've loved a day like today, all sunny and bright. She would've smiled so beautifully at every singing bird and laughing child, would've dragged him out to the park and had a picnic, would've laid on the grass and pointed out pictures in the clouds. She would've teased him until he'd smile: she was always the best at making him break bearing and let loose for once. She always knew how to make him feel, how to make him stop thinking and just live. She always knew what to do, always knew how to make him feel better, how to make him relax, how to calm the anxieties in his mind. She was always there, always. 

But now she isn't. And Shota has never felt so lost. 

Grief and rage build in his chest, bubbling over as he grits his teeth and slams a fist against the earth, his other hand clutching at his chest as if trying to tear out that ball of utter agony and sorrow in his chest. Or is that just his heart, tattered and broken without his lover there to repair it? 

"You were supposed to come home to me!" He whispers, as if she could hear him. As if it would change anything. As if it would bring her back. A fool's hope, truly, but a fool in love will do anything if it eases their broken heart. 

He sobs, curling in on himself as he sits before her grave, his knees barely brushing the dirt in front of him. He'd give anything to feel those gentle arms, to hear that voice in his ears, to just feel her warmth again. Hell, he'd kill just to see her smile, just to hear her say "I love you" one last time, to hold her again, to feel her fingers moving through his hair. 

He exhales shakily, feeling as though his chest is caving in as the words force themselves from his throat. "I didn't even get to say goodbye. You're never coming home, and I never even got to tell you goodbye... I didn't even get to fucking say that I loved you one last time. You were supposed to be here, goddammit." 

But there's nobody to hear his words, nobody to hold him close and comfort him. He's alone now, maybe more so than he ever was. So much of his future had been so closely wrapped up with her, had been so reliant on her being there... and now she wouldn't be. She will never come home again, and neither will he. He's lost his home, his sanctuary, his safe place, the love of his life... He's lost her, and there's no way to change that. He can't even get revenge, can't find solace in a final goodbye. He's left with nothing but a headstone and an engagement ring that will never be worn.