Spending the night at Aizawa’s place on weekends was something you took great pleasure in. Considering you had so much crap that you couldn’t quite move in to his cozy little apartment just yet, you relished in the moments you got to spend with him, even if it only was just weekends. You shared the same bed, which was a delight you used to only dream of until now. Usually, you got up earlier than him to make breakfast, but when you leave he cocoons himself in the quilt and sheets, almost trapped in a wrap of blankets by the time you return with news of breakfast. This Saturday morning was no exception to that routine of course, the usual wrap of blankets being around him when you came back to his room.
It was already ten thirty and he still hadn’t gotten up. It truly was a miracle that he ever made it to school on time at all considering how strongly he refused to get up now. Even the
Your voice was so sweet.
He didn’t think you realized just how soothing an effect it had on him. His eyes would only open willingly to the sound of you, blinking against the cruel morning light.
But when his vision focused, he was always greeted with your smile. Sometimes sleepy and half-hearted, other times wide and warm. This was one of those warmer mornings.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“You’ve got class in an hour. You should go wash up.” You told him, having leaned over from your side of the bed. You were very much in his space, your eyes wandering over his tired expression with an endeared fondness.
He could see it, even in the blurry mornings. You loved him just as much as he loved you; incomprehensibly.
“I’ll go get your lunch ready.” You added as you rose, but paused long enough to press a chaste kiss to his forehead. Shouta grunted, catching your hand before you slipped away. “W
[Name]'s ability was just a means to an end until Aizawa could recover enough stamina to be seen by Recovery Girl. Though it was a tender, and rather intimate Quirk, it was a painstakingly slow process, and one she finds she has little patience for when it comes to him. Three days and the only known improvements were a stronger heartbeat, and deeper breaths; his bones have mended little, and his wounds are only just beginning to scab.
But, so long as she sings to him, Aizawa is in a little less
Aizawa fidgeted so anxiously on the bullet train that the people around him shuffled back, trying to distance themselves from the weird, dark and scruffy man shifting about from where he stood. He gripped the handlebar so tightly his knuckles turned white, his breathing slightly faster than usual.
The cause of his great anxiety was that you were awake.
His wife was finally awake. You were finally awake and you were asking for him.
Aizawa burst from the train and ran down the four blocks, hardly breaking a sweat as he raced to the hospital. There wasn’t a moment to lose, he told himself, over and over in his mind.
You must have been so rattled to wake up in a strange room, surrounded by strange people. Doctors and nurses you didn’t recognize with tubes and needles connected to your body, and with nobody you knew to explain the situation.
You must be so scared, he thought to himself. It was motivation to push himself further.
Move, move, mo