Whisky
Books and cologne and hair gel and Hizashi Yamada: that was all Eraserhead could smell. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and bury his face in his lover's neck, to inhale that scent he adored, but what little reason remained told him to keep using his Quirk on the armoured man. If he slipped up for even a second, they'd be in trouble.
His eyes were burning beneath his goggles, his face aching from where he'd been beaten against the wall, yet he refused to blink.
"Sorry, Dear Listener," Mic said behind him, his voice muffled through his headphones, "but the only thing I want, is for you to become a Dead Listener."
Right, he'd almost forgotten. Hizashi didn't really want him; not in the way Aizawa wanted him. Soon they would fight, and he would put everything he was into it, or else he'd lose more than just the man he loved.
Aizawa forced himself to straighten up, despite the pheromones that plagued his mind with lustful thoughts, and he launched his capture weapon at the two male enemies. They hadn't expected his sudden attack. The scarf snagged around them both and Eraserhead pulled tight on his capture weapon, launching himself into the air as he simultaneously pulled them to him.
Yes, he'd handle these guys, even in his current state. Present Mic could handle the other one.
His boots connected with both targets, sending them flying back as he relinquished his hold on the bandages. However, thick tentacles wrapped around his waist and slammed him to the floor, successfully pinning him down. Eraser's mind told his body he was in danger – his eyes were closed, so he wasn't stopping the sword Quirk – but he couldn't move. Even so, nothing happened. He could hear Present Mic yelling behind him, louder than expected through the goggles, but he had to focus on himself for now. These two clearly believed in the strength of the woman, for neither went to interrupt her fight with the villain.
"We need him alive," grumbled the armour to the shorter man. "Be gentle."
"He kicked me in the face! My hubby is gonna ask why I have bruises! 'Oh, you know honey, I just got my ass handed to me by another hero, but it's okay, I swear I wasn't trying to kill anyone this time!' I'm going to be on the couch for a week! So sorry," the tentacle lifted Aizawa into the air and slammed him back down repeatedly. "If I'm." Bang. "A little." Bang. "Upset!" Bang.
"Tell him we were sparring and I punched you."
The tentacled man gasped in horror. "Lying is not the basis of a healthy marriage!"
Aizawa's head swam with pain and the smell of Hizashi, but during the thug's tantrum he was able to slip one hand free without him noticing. He felt around his belt while the two bickered (well, while one bickered at the other) and successfully freed his knife. Before he could be stopped, Eraserhead slammed the blade into the tentacle around his chest.
The thug yelped and instantly flung him against a wall, releasing him in the process. "HE STABBED ME!"
Eraser pulled himself up and inhaled as he brandished the knife, but was surprised to find the haze was fading. Present Mic must've -
The tentacled man suddenly stopped, his mouth agape and his face contorted in horror, despite his fresh injury. Even the suit of armour grew still beside him.
Eraserhead turned. His stomach dropped.
The woman was on the ground with Present Mic's boot grinding into her face. There was blood, and even through the headphones he could hear a disgusting snap as Mic twisted her wing at an impossible angle. She screamed, voice wavering between higher and lower pitches, but she couldn't escape his hold.
"Such a nice voice, Dear Listener!"
Snap.
She screamed again. His boot pressed harder.
Eraserhead stared.
"LET HER GO!" The tentacled man raced past him, as if he could no longer see anything beyond his friend being hurt.
Present Mic turned. His grin was sadistic. "There'll be time for you soon, DEAR LISTENER!" The volume was deafening, even with the headphones. The building shook and the thug slammed back into the wall, leaving cracks and an indent in the brickwork. He was finally out cold.
The suit of armour pressed his hand against the floor, sending another torrent of darkness aimed directly for the blond, and Eraserhead had to do something.
His capture weapon ensnared Present Mic and pulled him out of harm's way.
"Eraser?" he cried as he was wrenched from his prey. Eraserhead's eyes flared red, but they weren't aimed at any of the lesser villains: he only had eyes for the blond. There was a solid thud as the hero slammed Mic into the wall. The orange specs turned to him. The villain licked his lips, his head lolling on his neck. "So rude, my Dearest Listener~"
Eraserhead gritted his teeth. What had the pheromones done to him? He saw the suit of armour move, but to his relief the thug was running to the woman's side. Present Mic inhaled, but the hero had his eyes back on him before he could use his Voice Quirk.
If you hurt a civilian, or a hero, or anyone other than me, Hizashi, I'm going to stop you.
Without any other option, he wrenched Mic forward and repeatedly slammed him against the wall, only stopping when Hizashi Yamada's bruised body went limp. Darkness spread across the wall and Eraserhead spun around to eye the armour before his unconscious boyfriend was impaled. He had to get him some place safe.
In seconds, Eraserhead pulled Hizashi onto his back, secured him with his capture weapon like he had earlier, and ran into the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him, but the suit of armour didn't try to follow for now, but they didn't have much time. He'd mentioned a fire escape earlier. It was bound to be guarded but there was no other way.
Eraser moved to the Nighthawks painting and pressed Hizashi's thumb to the door, while a click signified the secret room was unlocked. As he slid it to the side, Boots rushed over, happily meowing at the company: he couldn't leave the cat. Aizawa scooped her up and resealed the lab as he turned to the window for his daring escape with a man on his back and a cat in one arm.
As soon as he stepped onto the railing, he had to avoid a flaming arrow. Voices called out below, alerting the enemy of his position. Boots squirmed in his arms but he held onto her tightly as he leapt off the fire escape. He flung out the ends of the capture weapon with the blond still safely on his back, and he hooked the scarf around the edge of a billboard advertising whisky. He swung away from the building and landed safely on the roof of the next building over.
"Sorry Boots," he murmured quietly as the cat unhappily struggled in his arms. Eraserhead ran across the rooftop as more arrows flew after him, even though the shooter wasn't in sight. He leapt over the gap to the next building over, all while ducking and weaving between the barrage of arrows.
Aizawa attached his capture weapon to the end of a vent and rappelled down to street level, ending his escape via back alleyways. Thankfully he'd reached his typical patrol area – he undoubtably knew these streets better than any thug following them. With a dizzying array of left and right turns, Eraserhead finally decided he could risk finding somewhere safe to hide. The Capsule Hotel was a no go, and he couldn't get Nemuri involved or else she'd lock his lover away.
He couldn't get the image of the villain sadistically torturing that woman from his mind.
Eraserhead glanced at the blond on his shoulder. His glasses were still miraculously on, his eyes closed behind them. He looked so innocent when he slept.
He'd have to find a hotel, one that would allow him to bring the cat in as well.
-x-
Damn, his head hurt.
He cuddled into the pillows but felt something warm pressed against him. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find Boots cuddled into his side. She wasn't usually allowed on the bed due to his sensitive hearing-aid but he didn't really mind the company, until he glanced around.
This wasn't his bedroom.
"We're at a hotel," said a voice that was deep and tired. Hizashi looked up to see Shouta Aizawa, sitting on a chair beside the bed, looking like he hadn't slept in years. "How's your head?"
"Hurts." He sat up and checked himself over. Hizashi's Directional Speaker, headphones, glasses and leather jacket had been placed to the side, while he only wore one of his hearing-aids. Oh, Aizawa must've remembered he only slept with one in. He found the other on the side table and put it back on. "Did we win?"
"I had to knock you out and bring you here."
Hizashi froze. The blond couldn't remember the fight beyond shoving a bunch of thugs into his sleep-rigged elevator, although he faintly recalled three tough opponents and Aizawa's scent. "What happened?" Aizawa shook his head and tossed him something: a chocolate bar. He looked it over and forced himself to smile. "Guess it's another vending machine date."
The man grunted, lost in thought. The air about him was so strained, so conflicted, that as soon as the blond finished eating his 'dinner', he knew questions were coming. Still, he had to repeat his own before the hero started.
"What happened, Sho?"
"Hizashi… You started torturing one of them."
His stomach squeezed. "No," he said in amazement, "I was in my Present Mic persona. I'm not…" Yes he could get sadistic in a fight, especially if he was the Trojan Bat, but to act like that in front of Shouta and not remember it…? "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
"No," Aizawa said honestly. "Tell me the real reason a boy who loved books and reading became a villain."
He was surprised by the sudden question. "I told you already. I made tech for villains because they were profitable."
"And then a kid died, Mic. What did you do?"
Hizashi flinched. "I left Giran."
"But you kept selling to villains."
"I made sure they were villains who didn't hurt kids."
"What about villains who hurt other innocent civilians? Did you stop selling to them?" Hizashi felt sick, but Eraserhead's soft yet piercing voice didn't relent. "You didn't. Then what happened?"
"Then I met you."
"Before that."
The blond pulled his sleeping cat into his lap. She woke, but just snuggled against him and went back to sleep. "I decided I no longer wanted to rely on my tech. I wanted to become a different type of villain, one who relied on his Quirk."
"Yet you use a Directional Speaker – isn't that tech?"
Hizashi cringed. He must've really fucked up. "It is, but it's-"
"Why are you a villain?"
"I just told you-"
"No, you were the Bat for profit. Why did you become Present Mic?" Hizashi ground his teeth together. Aizawa stood. "You could've stopped. You killed someone, whether it was intentional or not, and you ran, but didn't stop." He crawled onto the mattress, a slow and drawn out movement that woke Boots again. She mewled and Aizawa sat himself beside the blond, appearing so conflicted it made his chest ache.
This was everything the man had pent up since the beginning. All the betrayal, all the pain, all the shitty things Hizashi had done to him since the moment he'd walked into the café, all spurned on by the sight of his true villainous side, and Aizawa just looked…He just looked…
"Sho…" Hizashi said weakly.
"You didn't change. You act like it tortured you, and I'm sure it did, but swapping one villain name for another won't satisfy your guilt. You can't repent like that."
Hizashi froze. He'd been found out so easily.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but was silenced by a kiss. There was so much pain behind it, so much fear, that he hated himself for still enjoying it. He tried to think of something to say, but when Aizawa pulled away he spoke first.
"… I don't think you could ever be a hero." Why did those honest words hurt? "There's a switch in you. I saw it after I almost drowned. One moment you're Hizashi, the man I adore, and the next you're a villain, hellbent on destruction."
He looked so… He looked so…
Hizashi turned away, because if he kept looking at Aizawa he might've cried. "I'm never not a villain. Hizashi is just as evil as the Bat and Present Mic."
"Why did you become a villain? The real reason – the original reason."
He trembled, but no longer had the will to lie. "I was born with my Quirk. From the moment I started crying, with my very first breath, I hurt those around me. My parents had the decision. They could put a muzzle on me, but my speech and language skills would forever be impaired, or they could forego the muzzle and risk our hearing… They went with the latter." He gently stroked the cat as her comforting purrs filled the room. "Even though I'm perpetually at the centre of my Quirk, my ears have some resistance due to the way sound travels through the bones on my face. It still made me mostly deaf, but my parents…" He trembled. "By the time I reached high school, they couldn't hear anything. I learnt sign language for them. I didn't just research hearing and tech for myself, I did it for them, but no matter what I built … nothing helped."
Aizawa was silent.
"When I was fifteen, there was a fire. I was at the library when it happened and I got home late, only to find the apartment building burning. It had been an accident, a broken heater on the floor below, but… They never escaped." His body trembled. He'd never spoken about this to anyone. Why did he have to say it to Shouta Aizawa? Fuck. "If they'd muzzled me, if I hadn't been such a loud kid, if I'd somehow built them something that'd worked … they would've heard the fire alarm, the knocks on their doors as they evacuated everyone. There were only three casualties in the entire building – my parents and a woman on the floor below. If I'd been home, I could've got them out. If…" He saw a hand reach out for him, but Aizawa's hand paused in mid-air. The villain exhaled shakily. "I was to blame and everyone knew it. No one wanted me, the kid who was too loud, and too uneducated, and too … annoying."
"Hizashi…" His voice sounded so strained. "You're…"
"Isn't this what you wanted to hear? My tragic backstory? I had to work for Giran just so I could live in this world!" His tears were so hot as they rolled down his face, swollen and ugly, just as they'd been when he'd stared at that blazing building so long ago. "There were no heroes who tried to save me, who told me everything would be okay! My Quirk killed my parents and then my tech killed a kid. No matter what I do, people burn, so I might as well accept my fate! If everything I love burns, then I'm going to burn everything!" Aizawa's hands finally clamped on his shoulders, so tightly it hurt, and Hizashi finally looked at the man.
Yes, Shouta Aizawa looked… defeated.
So many emotions were running over the man's face, with so many different words on his lips. "DJ Yamada," he said quietly, his voice so pained it surprised Hizashi, "I need some advice." The blond was silent, but Aizawa continued. "How can I travel back in time?"
Hizashi was confused. "…You can't, Dearest Listener…"
"How can I change the past?"
"…You can't."
"How can I save the man I love?"
He felt so cold, but the tears down his face were burning hot. "You can't, Sho…"
"Why can't we save each other?"
Hizashi shivered and pressed his hand against Aizawa's cheek. His thumb trailed over his scar. "Because I fell in love with a tired barista who called me a baby, and I then fell in love with a hero who was willing to spare a villain. We're disasters, Sho. Complete and utter disasters. We can't save ourselves, let alone anyone else – not in a way that actually matters."
The man leaned down to kiss him again. It was softer, but the action still brimmed with pain.
"The only person who has ever thought I was handsome, and witty, and funnier than I looked, is a villain who wants me dead … but I still want our third option, Hizashi. I'm willing to do anything for it. We could try it for ten minutes, or a year, or a lifetime. For however long we decide, we could try it. Let's just … forget when we're alone, that we're a villain and a hero. Let's pretend I never interrupted your debut, that I'm not Eraserhead and you're not Present Mic, just when we're alone. When I'm out on patrol I can try to stop you as much as I want, but when we're at home, cooking in our kitchen, or making love, or just living our civilian lives, let's just be Hizashi and Shouta."
Hizashi shivered. "Don't you get it, Sho? This isn't about my debut, or Present Mic, or even Eraserhead anymore – it hasn't for a long time. It's because I love you that we can't have a third option. You're … my bridge."
"Bridge?"
Hizashi nodded and looked back down. "The only one in the world who thinks I can still do any good, who thinks they can see a glimpse of light where there's only darkness. You're the olive branch that anyone other than me wouldn't be stupid enough to rebuke. You're the voice of reason for a man deafened since infancy. We're both drowning, Sho, but you're trying to keep my head above water, even when all I want to do is drag you down." He inhaled so deeply his lungs ached and he pressed their foreheads together. "You're my bridge, and so you must burn."