Erase Herゾごホ

日の出 - sunrise

Shoto Todoroki.

We have never met, but I've always seen you wandering amongst the crowd in the cafeteria during lunchtime. Of course, I've always gone the extra mile to be sure we never came in contact. Because meeting you would be awful. All I could imagine was you looking down on me just like our father does. Like I'm trash.

I'm not sure why I thought it would hurt more than how I'm normally treated by our father, but I was utterly terrified of you seeing me as less than. Maybe because if you did, then I'd know I've always truly been alone in this world. And that is a lot for someone's heart to take.

Isolation. I became used to it. But there was this shred of hope, a small flickering flame kindling inside me, that maybe one day someone would fish me out of the dark abyss I had casted myself into. Eventually someone did something quite similar. Shota Aizawa. He did not extend a hand to drag me out of my own despair, but instead told me to get up myself. So I healed. I healed myself and reinforced my walls.

So, you can imagine my discomfort when Shoto Todoroki showed up at my door with talk about being 'siblings' and not letting our father ruin our lives anymore. Terrified. I was terrified. Writhing in fear because what I wanted to happen, what I desired, was finally here. A family. And how does someone, who's accepted her abandonment, take that?

Some say 'time will heal all wounds'. But as someone who has spent the last decade of her life showered in self hatred and darkness, I can say that is not true. People give people the strength to heal themselves.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to the side to gaze upon the sleeping Aizawa. A rare sight, indeed. Normally the man shifted quite a lot in his sleep, always waking at odd hours with no explanation. But at this hour, when the sun rose from its depths and threaded itself into his bedroom, this was when he was always asleep. His lips slightly parted as air bellowed in and out at gentle pace, his black hair covering half of his face (something I can't imagine the least bit comfortable), the stubble on his chin that (I had come to love) turning into more of a 5 o'clock shadow the longer he put off shaving it. I smiled, watching orangish hues from the sunrise dance along his bare pale skin, his eyebrows furrowing together at the slightest hint of light. Why was he so perfect?

"Can't sleep?" His monotone voice startled me, his eyes still tightly closed, his lips pressing against one another briefly before yawning. 

"Maybe." I hummed softly, still trying to respect the sleep deprived mans rest since it was such a rarity. I pursed my lips, heaving my body to its side and delicately placing each of my legs down to avoid any clashing of the two. I was now face to face with the somewhat awake man, his nose twitching as small piece of my (h/c) hair lightly tickled his skin.

"You're thinking about what Shoto said, aren't you?" He asked, the one eye I could see finally peeling open so I was staring into that darkened iris. I frowned softly.

"Maybe." I repeated myself, raising a hand to brush his black hair to the side so I could see the full view of Shota Aizawa waking up on a Sunday morning. His eyes fell, becoming slightly hooded, as his annoyance in my vague answers became very apparent. He sighed as I rested my palm against his cheek, admitting a small defeat that he wouldn't get much more out of me and closing his eyes once more.

"Some risks need to be taken, (y/n)." He bluntly stated while I stroked his face comfortingly. I let out a scoff at his words to which he unhappily opened one eye. "The boy needs his sister," The raspiness in his voice sounding slightly sexier as he lectured me, "just like the girl needed you in that mall." I cringed at his phrasing, plopping onto my back with my arms extended upwards, my fingers stretching in front of my face as I inspected the burns laced around them.

"What if they look at me like I'm a monster?" I whispered, my gaze trailing over the dark red imprints in my skin. "I'm sure someone has already spun them their version of my story."

"And what if they do?" Shota asked, his arms wrapping around my torso and his lips pressing into the side of my shoulder as he spoke. "They're your siblings, they will come to know the darkest secrets you carry and still love you for it." Shota's grip tightened, his fingers sinking into the skin of my hips. "Just like I do." I felt my own eyes soften as I smiled to myself. Shota lightly kissed my skin, mumbling something about how the mornings were his number one enemy and why couldn't he have gotten a quirk to erase the sun instead, but I just listened to the hymn his low voice provided and how the sound reminded me of a paintbrush on piano keys. A soft feeling that made me want to curl into his chest and let him talk my ear off with the most boring of topics.

"You're pretty cool, Eraserhead." I said gently, his complaining ceased as he raised his head up to stare at me.

"Eh? Eraserhead? Since when did you call me that?" He asked, resting his face against my shoulder blade.

"Right now." I giggled, as he glared at me through bangs of black.

"Don't use my hero name, it's...weird."

"I didn't use your hero name."

"Eh?"

"If I were to call you by your hero name, I would've just said, 'Shota Aizawa'." I beamed, glancing over at the man who observed me carefully. "Because that's what you are," I closed my eyes, laying my head back into the fluffy pillow beneath me.

"a hero."