Boku No Hero Academia One Shots [Book 2]

Shouta Aizawa ღ Eraserhead

Requested by: Blackangel1482

Trigger Warning: Panic Attack.

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For a moment, the tedious grading of papers managed to take precedence in your mind. You casually side-eyed Class 1-A's Toru Hagakure, as she rummaged through drawers for the staff schedule. With your quirk, you could see invisible and 'mythical' entities, as if they were in plain view of prying eyes.

The spontaneity of your attack was perhaps the most frightening of all. It barrelled into you, waves of dread and disquiet swimming through your veins. Years of suffering hadn't prepared for or numbed you to the pain, the anxiety...the fear. Your stomach churned, the disgusting taste of bile slowly inching up your throat. Where were the other teachers? Where had that student gone? Why was there no witness to this grisly display? Did no-one recognise the sounds of frantic shuffling, as you fought to remain on your chair, or the papers that flew from your desk, as you braced your hands against it?

Where was...where was Aizawa, your emotional support? The man you regularly drenched in tears, whose complaints were half-hearted and completely meaningless? You recalled his face, in your dwindling moments of mental clarity. It brought forth a small amount of optimism - Maybe I can get through this! - that faded far faster than you had hoped. How were you supposed to fight this battle alone? Forget heroism, you might need to seek out a Shaman. But right now...none of your actions were voluntary. You wanted to yell or to run, but you couldn't. It felt like something, some higher power, was refusing your silent requests.

The most it seemed to allow was a pathetic spectacle of trembling and sweating.

If only someone would spirit you away from this place, this situation...if only you could leave and never, ever return. What had Aizawa wasted hours of his life searching for, simply to calm you? Breathing techniques...restful sleep, exercise, relaxation...? You tried to employ them (emphasis on tried), all of them, every day without fail! You hoped so desperately to stave off this unwelcome feeling. You could no longer bear all this pain, and the constant worry that threatened your mind: When will my next attack be? Will I be in a public space? Will people laugh at me? What kind of...I'm not a hero - it was always going to be impossible with my quirk, but...what kind of...adult goes through this? I'm making such a big deal out of nothing! Well...Aizawa always says it's nothing.

How much precious time would this particular attack drain? Five minutes? Twenty minutes? An hour?...If the latter proved true, you might have to perform an impromptu self-defenestration. That window was beginning to look very appealing.

Dealing with such ferocity...you just couldn't. Not today, not ever! And certainly not alone. Aizawa shouldn't be made to share your burdens, but he was at fault for always insisting! Your dependency on the unkempt man was shocking - with an appearance like his, you would be forgiven for assuming that he couldn't care for himself, much less a woman. It caused great irritation (although Aizawa's nonchalance was telling) to writhe amid your heart. His face never betrayed any ill-will toward you for occupying his time - essentially hoarding his attention, like a dragon with gold. But...what if that was merely a façade? An attempt to maintain the status quo, to keep the veil of ignorance draped around you?

Those thoughts dissipated after the mighty slamming of a door sliced right through them. The sound reverberated, almost clinging to your ears, but...your eyes wouldn't shift, they wouldn't follow to its origin. And in your blind panic, the tell-tale ebony hair and binding cloth escaped your notice. It was only when a pair of thin yet strong arms snaked around your frame, locking into place with warmth and familiarity, that you recognised him.

The routine was finally set into motion.

Gradually, Aizawa's comforting embrace stilled the incessant beating of your heart, and the fear started to ebb away. He deserved all your thanks, your praise, your worship, but for now, your lips were still tightly sealed. So instead, the gratitude shone in your eyes. His body became your nest, and you snuggled up appropriately. With harmonised breaths, you seemed the perfect, doting couple. If only...

If only...

"Are you ready to talk now? Or do you need a few more minutes?" He asked, and the way his stubble scratched your shoulder elicited a giggle - the first in a while.

Perhaps he could weave into the conversation, the extent of his love for it? "I...I think so, yeah. I didn't want you to have to see that."

"Well I did, so now's the time to get over it." Harsh words, though his tone was mild.

"I guess. I-I'm just...really stressed at the minute, and...and I've been having a lot of panic attacks recently. I hate them. They're...they're awful, but...I feel like they're always...lurking? D-Does that make sense? Like...I could have an attack anytime, and even - even in public. Aizawa, I don't know...I don't know what that would do to me! It's such a...horrible image. What if it happens? In real life? What if-"

"It won't." You held more confidence in Aizawa's reassurance, above anyone, but this idea was simply too abstract - he wasn't being rational at all! "(Y/n), there's no real danger. And if something does happen when people are around, at least you'll have someone beside you."

His argument was losing credibility. "...Huh? But...I won't! Who would stay by me through all that? It'd be too much to handle!"

"Me."

Your neck twisted around, and finally, you understood whiplash in a context other than an X-Men film. "...Y-You?"

"I just said that. I'll be there for you, so...when school ends, I'll help you pack up your things. You can live with me."

[Word Count: 967]