EraserMic Fluff

PT 21

         "Sir, only family is allowed to visit right now," a nurse said. Her eyes traveled up and down the man. His dark hair hid his downward-turned face. He looked dishevelled, which wasn't uncommon with visitors of those injured by villains. He didn't react. She assumed he didn't hear her.
        "Sir, you need to leave—" she repeated, reaching for his shoulder. He turned, and glared a glare with such a murderous intent behind it she could feel it in the air. She fell back and retreated out the hospital room's doors. She scurried up to a doctor. The doctor turned to her, and noticed her pale complexion.
      "Tried to get him to leave, huh? Don't bother. He'd sooner die. You're new, so you haven't dealt with those two yet. They come in pretty often, and never leave each other's side," the doctor explained as she sipped her coffee.
      "But what should I do?"
      "Nothing. Leave them alone," the doctor muttered.
      "But that's not allowed—"
       "Look, they're special. Leave them. And stop saying 'but'; it makes you sound like a child," the doctor chided.
       "Yes, ma'am."
        Back in the room, Shōta stared down at the sleeping Hizashi. Bandages covered his torso, and IVs lead out of his arms. Machines clicked and whirred. The toxically sterile stench of the room made Shōta feel lightheaded. The heart rate monitor beeped rhythmically. Bright, cold lights obliterated his thoughts and made his heart pound. His senses transported him to his childhood, stuck in emergency rooms for everything from "falling down the stairs" to getting into fights to classes and training at UA.
       His fingers wrapped themselves around Hizashi's hair, trying to drown the past in a sea of gold. They moved to his cheek and caressed it, finding the only warmth in the frigid room in sun-kissed cheeks. His thumb brushed against Hizashi's lips, reminding him of his stupid grins. Shōta leaned down and pressed his forehead to his boyfriend's.
        Cloth moved back and forth, but the movements were clumsy. He had only recently thought of using fabric to  propel himself and others around the battlefield, realising the ability to manipulate everyone's positions would be of great use. He threw a robot to the side, and the crash that followed informed him he managed to knock it off the building. 
       They were fighting on rooftops for a training session. Two or three students to a rooftop, fighting mechanical enemies. Shōta wiped the sweat from his brow. Fighting people was easy, but robots—enemies without quirks—was difficult for him. His only advantage was that the robots moved in even stricter patterns than people.
       A robot forced him to the edge and he teetered on it. He couldn't fail now—not when he finally made it to Heroics. If he messed up, they might send him back to General—
     Hizashi yelled at the robot, who was sent flying. He was Shōta's partner by random chance, but his happiness to be paired with Shōta was highly evident.
      "You okay, Aizawa-kun?! We're a team, so we gotta work together!" he yelled. Shōta nodded, and turned to knock another pho-Villain away. A brief reprieve from the robotic onslaught allowed Shōta to turn to look at the other rooftops to see how other students were doing. Some were exceeding expectations, some meeting them, and some fell behind; as was usual in high school.
        A scream from Hizashi made him whip around. A robot managed to catch him off-guard, and he was slipping off the edge. Without thinking, his body took action. Shōta ran forward as Hizashi began to fall, and his hands moved on their own to throw his cloth around a sturdy-looking antenna as he jumped off the building. He took the other cloth and threw it down, wrapping it around Hizashi and slowing his fall until he came to a complete stop. Shōta repelled down to him, and reached out a hand. Hizashi was dumbstruck.
       "Come on, grab my hand," Shōta said. When Hizashi didn't move, he sighed, closing his eyes tiredly. He opened them again. "Hey, we're a team, right?" he whispered. Hizashi's eyes widened and he blushed heavily.
      "Uhm, oh, uh...y-yeah," he stuttered, and reached out a hand and grabbed Shōta's. He grinned. "The best team!"
      Shōta's hands gripped Hizashi's hand, entangling his fingers in his warm hands. Shōta lifted his head slightly to take in Hizashi's face. Somehow, even now, Hizashi was his sun. His source of light, of warmth, of joy.
       "Come on, grab my hand. We're—we're a team, right? We're a team...the best team," Shōta breathed, struggling not to cry. His voice cracked. He gasped and pressed his face into Hizashi's chest, careful to avoid his wounds. "Hizashi..." he sobbed.
      A knock at the door silenced him. He lifted his head, but his gaze never left Hizashi's face. His hands tightened around Hizashi's hand. The door slid open. 
      "Eraser...it's me. The guy's locked up. Is he doing alright?" Nemuri asked. Shōta didn't turn to look at her.
     "He's fine..." he mumbled. Nemuri's hand fell to his shoulder.
      "Shōta—please, sleep. It's late. And before you resist, hear me out. I know how you guys get when one of you is hurt. You both break down. You, even more so. You can't ignore your needs over this. When he wakes up, he'll want you to be healthy. How else are you gonna hug and kiss him and tell him you love him?" Nemuri smiled softly. Shōta paused.
      "...okay," he murmured.
      "Good," she replied. "Get some sleep. I'm going to head home." She walked away, but stopped in front of the door. She turned to look back. Shōta's gaze was unwavering. Nemuri sighed. He isn't going to sleep, is he?
      She left, shutting the door softly. Shōta sighed, and let his body droop onto the railing of the hospital bed. His hooded eyes were red and empty. Cement bricks piled up on his back. His body slipped, leaning heavily on the railing. His eyes drooped.
      "Hizashi..." he murmured, before resigning himself to collapsing on the floor.