Not Yet

H o p e : XXV

The cold rain on his skin felt oddly soothing. He could feel every rain drop landing, trickling slowly down across his abdomen, before harshly getting dyed and turning into an intense red when reaching his widely open wound.

At first, every little droplet sent immense pain rushing through his body. But now, the appealing cold numbness was all he could sense.

Lying down on his side, with his back pressed to the wall behind, he closed his eyes in defeat. Maybe this was not bad after all.

Not the bleeding out alone in an alleyway part, but the calming nothingness that came after it.

He listened to the calming sound of the falling rain, acting as his last personal symphony, sending him away in peace. He never imagined his ending to be relaxing, he always thought he would die in the most painful way imaginable.

That's if he would ever be able to, to begin with.

The sounds began gradually to fade into the background. Soon, silence would be his only friend, and he welcomed the stillness with open arms.

What he didn't expect though, was the soft hand on his cheek.

He wondered if that was a near death hallucination, but the warmth felt too real to his freezing face.

He cracked one eye half open, too tired to make out what he was exactly seeing.

What he could make out though, was a woman with green hair on her knees beside him. The umbrella she was using as a shield from the heavy rain was dropped to the ground next to her in panic, her expression displaying concern and genuine affection, one that he thought would never, ever, be directed towards him.

A foreign feeling he had never experienced swept away the numbness in his limbs, making his senses wake up to life and hit him with an unimaginably painful load of stimulations. The stopped world was suddenly back in motion. But the emotion itself was everything he could focus on. How could a stranger make him feel this.... warm?

The woman cuddled his head in her slender arms, gently stroking his messy mop of wet sticky hair.

She was saying something, but he couldn't comprehend it as anything other than faint, drowned noises.

When she realised how unresponsive he was, she rested her hand on top of his blooded one. Not an ounce of hesitation or repellency could be detected in those emerald orbs.

That tender touch, he was sure he would never forget it.

And right at this moment, he could swear....

He was feeling it again...

*****

Aizawa was really starting to give up at that point. He didn't believe himself to be this precarious, but it turned out he was weaker than he expected.

He was still conflicted about how to tell Eri, and he felt so, so lost and impotent.

He practically dragged his legs through the corridor, making his way to the only place he could think of needing his presence.

He stood at the door frame aimlessly, too frightened to look in.

But when he did, he didn't expect his student, along with little Eri, to be kneeling right next to the problem child's bed.

He felt a pang of guilt hit him like a train. It took all will power in him to not turn on his heels and disappear.

And for not running away, he was surely grateful.