~Trade Mistakes~ (EraserMic)

Forced Interviews

"I don't want to do this..." Aizawa muttered under his breath, his rough fingers fidgeting nervously with the tight white collar of the shirt Nemuri had forced him to wear, his footsteps echoing quietly on the tiled floors of U.A., pacing back and forth along the hallway, struggling to keep his calm.

He felt vulnerable, dressed in a pair of black slacks, blue tie, and formfitting black jacket, his long black hair tied back tightly in a fluffy black ponytail. He wanted desperately to be dressed in his usual baggy black jumpsuit with its soft yet durable material, his long white scarf and his shiny bronze goggles once again taking their place around his neck and shoulders.

He felt exposed in his current state, no weapon and he could barely move in the tight clothes he wore, his black eyes bloodshot and sore as he rubbed his fingers against them, a nervous tick he had developed over the years, trying to release the pressure building there as he dug through his pockets, searching for his bottle of eyedrops.

Unfortunately, the little bottle of saline was the only thing he could convince Nemuri to let him keep.

He sighed quietly in relief when he found them, tilting his head back and giving the small blue bottle a gentle squeeze, relishing the slight sting and cooling effect as the solution dripped from the corners of his eyes.

He wiped the liquid away with his thumb, taking a deep breath as he slipped the bottle back into his pocket, taking a second to let the calm feeling he had always associated with the drops wash over him, the temporary relief in his eyes a welcome emotion. He sighed, refocusing his attention to the door of the teacher's lounge, his momentary calm instantly shattering.

He knew what was waiting for him on the other side of that door, Nemuri had told him while she was forcing him into the ridiculous attire he was now wearing. Anxiety tore at his chest, making his lungs feel like they were on fire as he tried to keep his breathing even, his hands shaking as sweat gathered in his palms.

I can't do this....

Aizawa was rarely afraid, but right now the thought of the impending interview terrified him. His stomach twisted itself into a knot, his heart pounding so hard he felt like it was going to smash it's way out of his chest and land on the floor, still pumping his adrenaline and fear laced blood out onto the tile.

I can't do this.

He wished Hizashi was here with him. The blond always knew what to say in these scenarios, able to talk ----Well,  more like shout-- his way out of any situation that was thrown at him. He ran circles around the media, and they absolutely loved it. Hizashi knew what they were going to say before they said it, coming up with an answer before the question was asked, capturing their attention with a single word and blowing them away with a sentence.

Aizawa wished he was that good with people., ut no. People were his greatest fear. People were unpredictable, irrational, and overwhelming. People could build you up sure, but they could also tear you apart within seconds. You say one thing wrong and they could turn on you in an instant, judging eyes and whispers spreading like wildfire until it burned everything you had to the ground.

To the world, villains, natural disasters, social uproar, financial and political unrest were the cause of sleepless nights.

But to Aizawa, people were the only real nightmare.

He stared at the door, his breath ragged and uneven as his fingertips brushed the cold metal doorknob, his hands shaking. His head was swimming, every scenario playing over and over, each one worse than the last. He was minutes away from running, but he forced a tired expression on his face, taking a deep breath and pulling it open, striding into the room with his shoulders hunched.