A/N: This is a very self indulgent piece that I wrote a few days ago and was on the fence about sharing because I don't personally like to air my private affairs. That being said, maybe someone else may take a little comfort from this. I wrote this to sort of help process how I was handling things with my fur baby as I wasn't sure how she was going to fair with everything that was going on. (She's ok now, thankfully) but it was something that had been weighing heavily on me for the last few days. If you're going through something similar maybe this can help.
Word Count: 2000
He didn't bat an eye at your request to spar with him. He'd looked up from the stack of ungraded essays as you lingered in the door of his classroom. Your hip tucked against the door jam as you debated coming fully inside his personal domain. The classroom was his territory and you liked to give him his space.
You were always respectful to his students, but with that respect came a different level of ease and sway he didn't have. He ruled his class with a heavy hand, but you were more lax, lively and dropped formalities unless you had to hold them. Some would think that level of ease meant the kids respected you less, but that wasn't the case. You put any and all who thought they could walk all over you in their place.
"What's the rush?" he questioned; he hadn't yet given you his full attention, but when he didn't receive your usual banter, he frowned to be himself. Still he took a moment to gather himself before he glanced toward you, catching sight of the little red flags most wouldn't notice, but he noticed everything about you.
What caused him to rise to his feet and give you a critical stare was the brightness in your eyes and the red tint that outlined your war-painted eyes. It was the first sign that told him something was wrong. The thin line of your lips, the tension in your shoulders, and lastly the way you held your arms across your chest, which in itself wasn't something to note, but he caught the way you hid your knuckles, hiding the white-knuckled grip as your nails bit against your palm.
Others would see your arrogance, your pride, the tight control, but he could see what lingered underneath. What you so desperately wanted to hide.
Aizawa was careful as he approached you, he wasn't rushed as he set down his papers and capped his red pen. Before he stood rounding his desk and coming to a stop in front of you. He reached out to touch your cheek and you stepped back out of his reach. Usually little touches were alright, even in public you didn't mind it he was careful. Neither of you have ever been big on public displays of affection. He didn't miss the hitch of your breath as you swallowed and narrowed your eyes at him, using your anger as a shield.
That told him something else, something was wrong. You weren't often emotional, not like this.
"If you're not interested I'll ask Toshi —"
"No!" The world came out harsher than he'd intended and he curled his hands into a fist at his side. You would not be around anyone else right now. Not with whatever this was, whatever had thrown you down such a spiral, to such a dark place. You were ruthless and would only bury it deeper.
With another breath, his following words were calmer, more controlled. "I'm interested." I'm listening; I'm here. Words he didn't say out loud, but were implied. These small gestures or words convey more meaning than others fully understand.
You only clamped your teeth together and pressed your lips in a scowl, that was more a grimace as you struggled to lock down your emotions. Instead, you stepped into the deserted hall and headed toward the stairs. Classes had ended a while ago, but you'd been avoiding him, so the fact you were the one to seek him out was comforting, it showed him you were beginning to rely on him, at least a little.
He didn't mind the silence as he followed after you; it left him plenty of time to worry as he went over the various conversations you two held over the last few days. Nothing flagged, but that didn't mean much, you were a private person and were just coming to realize that you could rely on him to support you. Your trust was slow and this was your way of reaching out and asking for his time…his attention.
It wasn't an issue, with him it would never be an issue. He understood you, he knew where you were coming from. He also knew you didn't need to try so hard around him.
That would take time and he would wait you out. He wasn't going anywhere. It would just take time to prove that to you, but eventually it would sink in and he was willing to wait however long it takes.
As you kept your distance from him, being careful to keep your body from touching his own, even by accident. The smallest touch would shatter you, shatter your resolve, your tightly held control of your emotions.
When he hit the last stair, he glanced toward the student lockers, not surprised to see the students had all cleared out pretty quickly, given the weekend was coming up. Aizawa held the door open to the staff training room as you ducked under his arm and surveyed the room for a moment. Nothing had changed about it, but that didn't stop you from assessing it. It was one of the reasons you were good at your job, and no he didn't mean just as a teacher, but as a hero as well.
He stepped up to the mat and removed his capture weapon and hung it on one of the edges of the boxing ring neither of you would be using today. His dark eyes quietly regarding you. "Ready?" He asked as he shifted his stance to face you.
This was one of the ways you talked things through, this method wasn't ideal for everyone and it seldom worked, but the method and its effects worked for you. He found out quite a bit through trial and error, and a level of persistence few had. Except when it came to him, he was the exception, but it was only because it was you.
You were quiet as you slipped into your own stance. Neither of you made the first move, and words weren't necessary. It was another beat before you gave a tilt of your head, that you were ready before he made the first move. Things never escalated until you were fully prepared. His level of consideration wasn't something you had been used to, but it was growing on you. It hadn't gone unnoticed that he was only like that with you.
His core stance hadn't changed but he raised his arm to block your punch, slamming his wrist against your own. He could feel the pain of the blow, the intensity of your attack as you put some of your emotions into it.
"What happened today?"
His question was met with wide eyes and a show of teeth before your next blow hit against his shoulder and he stepped to the side to absorb the blow. He was on to something. He was always amazed at your speed, while others lost themselves to their emotions and got sloppy, you always improved, using your emotions as median.
The hum of sound as he considered his next question as he dipped low, his open palm stroke going for your chin, but you threw your hands down blocking his attack and kicked him in the chest getting some distance between you two.
Your hesitation gave you away.
"You didn't sleep well last night," his observation wasn't meant to infer anything nefarious. He trusted you.
"Stalker much," you muttered but it was loud enough he could hear you. You danced back a step suddenly retreating as he rushed you, getting some distance for your next attack.
You pressed your fingers around his forearm, as you expertly kept yourself suspended above him in the air, your gaze locking for those few precious moments, as he easily supported your added weight. "You haven't mentioned her the last few nights, when we've talked," Shota wasn't sure why it clicked now. You had a tendency not to mention what was bothering you. He'd seen you avoid the subject of classes and your students once when things had been rough a few months ago. He could see the cracks widen in your armor, could see the way your lower lip wobbled as you sucked in air. The question caused you to lose focus and your body to tip back too soon.
He watched you recover your stance as you changed your mind, no longer intent on taking him down, but putting distance instead. You pressed yourself forward before vaulting away from him. The way your knuckle brushed under your right eye told him something as he watched you land before hoping back two more times to skirt the edge of the ring.
The way your shoulders raise in a shrug as you look away from him. That moment of avoidance is all he needs. He's suddenly in your personal space, one hand cupping your cheek as the first tear rolls down your cheek.
"She's ok," you tell him, taking a breath to try and gain back some control but it's clear who you're talking about was anything but fine as another tear was wiped away by his thumb as his other hand carefully, gently joined the first.
"What happened?" He asked gently, his tone low.
"She got sick…I'd just got home, you know how it is. We work long hours and her vet's not open after nine. I took her to the emergency vet."
With another breath he watches you step away from him, he watches you pull your emotions tighter, wringing them into the box you place everything. He doesn't tell you that it's unhealthy to bottle them up; he doesn't chastise you for doing what you have to do to get back your control. Everyone handles things differently.
Shota also didn't take it personally because of your desire for space. You aren't the most affectionate person and to be honest neither is he, but for you he does a lot more than he'd allow with others.
"What did the doctors say?" He asked quietly as his arms folded across his chest, but one arm instantly landed at his side as your fingers brushed along the back of his hand and you carefully linked your index and your middle finger with his own. Small steps, baby steps….he would never be your ex, forcing affection you weren't ready for, his easy understanding had put you up in arms at first, but overtime you'd allowed him into your life in more ways than merely a friend.
"They need to run some more tests, rule out Addison's and diabetes…she's really critical, her glucose is low —"
Another step closer brought you into the safety of his arms as you rested your cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his free arm curled around your waist as he felt you link your fingers with his own. "She's tough just like her mom," he murmured into the silence.
You could only offer a soft sound of agreement to what he said, but he felt the tremors in your body. Shota didn't offer false hope, but the silent support meant so much more as his fingers tightened on your own. He would be here no matter what, through whatever life had in store for you.
