Boy howdy has it been a long week. School started back up for me and I was not prepared for the ass kicking it delivered, but here we are with the next chapter! This also marks the halfway point for this fic, so halfway there, everyone!

Oh, a quick thing to clear up about the time line - this chapter marks the after effects of the USJ event. Aizawa and Mic first met sometime in the fall/winter months of the last school year, before our own class 1-A. The time line is a little bit different since I pushed the USJ event back as compared to canon, but we should be on track now - roughly. I'll still be vague, but we're still in our first semester of U.A. with the month being around mid to late April.

Remember that you can check out my tumblr at ibelieveinahappilyeverafter for more stories, ways to support me, and even ways to make it so you see even more of my writing!

Enjoy!

The soft beams of spring sunlight fell into his room in leafed patterns, a warm breeze blowing pale blue curtains back from the open window. Golden sunlight and the bright yellow gifts on the stand next to his bed were the only bright colors in the room, everything else in muted and dimmed shades that made him unable to completely relax. Shota never had liked hospitals, and his inability to move even the smallest amount had him wanting to get up more and more as the moments ticked by. The only reason he hadn't tried, yet, was because there were half hourly checks from doctors and nurses who had come to know him too well.

A soft knock on the door let him know that it was time for another check. Shota fought to not roll his eyes, instead keeping his gaze straight ahead. If it was another nurse or doctor, he might throw something, or at least attempt to. He'd had enough talks and warnings about what had happened to him during the USJ attack.

Instead of a doctor, though, he heard a familiar voice calling out a soft, "How are you doing?" Familiar heels had him glancing over to see that Nemuri was dressed outside of her hero costume, a soft sweater dress and red shawl paired with simple glasses.

"Fine," Shota replied after a moment, because, well, he was fine. He wasn't at his best, but it could have been worse. He could have died instead of simply being rendered unconscious.

"If you say so," Nemuri snorted, not sounding very believing. It was reassuring more than anything else that she wasn't acting like he was on his deathbed like all his other visitors had been so far. Actually, now that Nemuri was here, he might finally get an answer to as to who had left the brightly colored gifts he had been staring at for the last few days.

"Who left these?" The bright yellow made him suspect All Might due to the man no doubt blaming himself for what had happened at USJ, but it didn't quite seem like his style. The flowers were disgustingly yellow, after all.

"Don't tell me you of all people can't tell," Nemuri laughed, quiet and bright, as she plucked the card off the stand and opened it up. The inside had a doodle of a screaming cat with hearts around it, the other side reflecting a message to get well soon.

"Idiot," Shota muttered, turning away to attempt to hide the fact his face was no doubt looking as flushed as it felt. Even after he had said the worst he could and avoided his usual route to try and get 'Present Mic' to stop endangering himself, the man had still sent him flowers and a get-well card. Fuck, he was absolutely smitten.

"Mhm, and there's more," Nemuri half-sang, tone teasing as she shut the card and flipped it over to the back. "He managed to cram a lot of writing onto this thing, you know. He also has horrible handwriting."

"Get to the point." There was more? It was probably something sickeningly sweet - or worse. Maybe having Nemuri read it wasn't a good idea. "Or set it down already."

"Too late!" Nemuri chirped. "He wants you to know that he'll be taking over your patrol route until you get better." Present Mic what? "It seems he found out about this whole thing on the news. Oh, poor thing, he must have been distraught."

"'Poor thing?' Since when did you get so fond of him?" Shota finally looked back to Nemuri, frowning a bit at the almost serious look on her face. "Nemuri."

"Well, remember when you gave me your patrol and I told you nothing had happened? I might have lied just a teensy bit." Nemuri gave a fake smile and Shota felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

"Nemuri. What did you do?" He had given his patrol over to Midnight because his presence only seemed to encourage Mic. He was trying to steer him away from doing any villainy, but maybe Midnight had been the wrong choice in hero.

"I just put him to sleep when he was causing trouble! I didn't even take him to the police station or anything!" Nemuri defended, looking as if she was being accused of some great crime. "You said he had a voice quirk, but I didn't take that to mean that he could level an entire city block-"

"He did what?" It wasn't that Shota hadn't realized how powerful Mic's quirk was, but he had never really used it. There was no way he had the power to level a block, though.

"That was my reaction! I looked around the whole area and at least five buildings were completely destroyed down to the ground and the windows in a mile radius were shattered. He was waiting up on a roof near the epicenter for… Well, for you."

Since it was only Nemuri in the room, Shota allowed himself to slump even further against his bed, groaning quietly. Of course Mic had done something like that just to get his attention. "He was trying to prove a point." He had been trying to prove he could be a villain. "Did he say anything before you knocked him out?"

"He certainly put up a fight," Nemuri huffed, crossing her arms and being careful not to bend the card. Shota was more thankful about that than he wanted to be. "He probably could have fought me off if he hadn't realized what my quirk was too late."

"Told you." Mic was clever and he could keep up with Shota night after night. He had probably been taken by surprise where he hadn't expected Midnight to show up. "So, you took him by surprise?"

"Of course. He was a bit of a dolt," Nemuri said, a laugh to her words before she met Shota's gaze. "He said to tell you that it wasn't a game." This time, Shota's stomach felt like it was missing as much as All Might's was. "Shota?"

"I think I made a mistake, Nemuri." It had seemed logical. It was the most logical idea to force Mic to become aware of the truth and then remove himself from the situation entirely. It had been perfect. Present Mic would have died a quiet death and whoever he truly was would be free to find some avenue of life that didn't end with pain and a mistake he could never come back from. This, though…

Mic had made a stand and proved that he wasn't going to be pushed back into the role of a civilian who was forced to do nothing except to watch. He had attempted to make the world watch and had insisted that it all hadn't been a game. To him, it probably wasn't. Present Mic wasn't an idiot. He had been trying to garner attention - and the easiest way to get attention these days was to be a hero, or… Shit.

"I'm sure you didn't make a mistake you can't fix," Nemuri finally said, waving the card around. "I mean, he sent you flowers and a get-well card. Here, listen to his." Nemuri flipped to the back of the card again, clearing her throat, "'Someone has to watch out for the kids trapped in this place.' See? He's taking care of it all so you can have a rest. Like I said, he's definitely a vigilante."

Shota stared at Nemuri and the card before blinking slowly, trying to calmly sort out his thoughts and feelings before he gave a slow nod. "Nemuri." The woman leaned to her right, looking ready to run for the door. "You were right."

"Oh? Of course! Ah, but just to be certain, what was I right about this time?" Nemuri watched him and Shota couldn't bring himself to do much more than to look over at the flowers. He was almost grateful for the bandages that covered his face and the no doubt sickening expression that was forming. "Oh- Oh! You really do have feelings for him!"

Nemuri's cackling laughter was almost more reassuring than it was annoying, Shota sighing and watching the golden sunlight start to fade and make way for soft, cool blues. The bright yellow flowers and card seemed to warm his room just fine, though.

::

Shota stood by his decision to return to the school as quickly as possible, but unlike some people seemed to think, he wasn't unaware of the limitations of his body, especially after all that had happened to it. His healing sessions with Recovery Girl were slow going and, with his insomnia and sleeping problems, only so much of his body could be healed at one time. The result was a constant state of exhaustion and pain that never seemed to leave.

He had taken to sleeping on the couch most nights, too tired and sore to make it to his bedroom. The only bright side was that falling asleep on the couch often meant he could catch snippets of Present Mic's radio show when he had the energy to stay conscious. The weekly show was still midnight to five on Friday nights through the next morning on Saturday, but Shota caught bits and pieces of his voice throughout the weeknights, as if he couldn't stop himself from being on the radio as much as possible.

He would have been a good radio host, Shota mused. There were so many stats and ratings and changing news on heroes and villains, Shota could easily see the need and use of a radio station designed for it all. Mic would have run it wonderfully, he was sure.

The one good thing about being confined to his apartment was that he had plenty of time to catch up on grading homework and work on his case files. The largest was, without a doubt, the open case on Trigger. There were multiple heroes and police officers working on it, but Shota seemed to have taken on the brunt of it.

Working while listening to Mic's show, though, was what made him realize just who the 'anonymous source' was that was turning in the many dealers and users associated with Trigger. That man was turning out to be something else entirely. He also didn't seem to know when to stop pushing himself.

"Sorry for that last interruption, dear listeners! It's been a busy week for me, here, but I can promise that you're not getting rid of me quite yet - although the police and heroes are welcome to try!" The expected cackle full of wild energy was instead a quiet, strained laugh that showed just how thin the man had been stretching himself. The USJ attack must have shaken him up as much as it did the rest of the world. Never before had children training to be heroes come so close to dying. "Alright, dear listeners, let's take some requests and get your jam session for the night underway!"

Absently tapping his pencil against the edge of his work, Shota stared at his radio as he listened to Mic's voice. He knew that he himself had a problem with wearing himself thin, but Mic sounded like he had passed that point long ago. Considering the news stories coming out about his own involvement in USJ, it was possible Mic thought that Eraserhead was dying.

"I suppose there's nothing for it," Shota sighed, scratching at Jelly's head and smiling at her loud purrs. "The chocolates weren't the worst thing, after all."

It hadn't been until the casts on his arms had come off that he had been able to open the gift left by Present Mic, but once he had, he had found a collection of dark chocolates that were filled with caffeine. They had been surprisingly good, and Shota supposed that deserved a small thank you, or at least, the knowledge that Shota was fine and Eraserhead would soon be back at work and kicking Mic's ass during his 'villainous attempts.'

Dialing up the number he had, regrettably, memorized, Shota waited until he heard the dual sound of Mic greeting him both on the radio and through the phone, "Yo, dear listener, you're on with Present Mic! What's your song request for the evening!" Ah. Right. Song request. Hm…

"Play that song you sang when you kidnapped me." There was absolute silence from both phone and radio, Shota frowning as he pulled his phone back enough to check if the call was still going.

"Eraserhead!" There were the loud sounds of objects breaking and crashing to ground that was soon followed by Mic swearing loudly at the fact that it seemed his quirk has slipped. It was… cute- Shit. Nemuri listened to Mic's shows, too, and she could recognize his voice. Nevermind the fact that Mic had just screamed his name over his show. "You're alive! Holy shit, you're actually alive and okay and not dead!"

"If you were a sanctioned broadcast you would have been shut down by now," Shota drawled, pleased he didn't have to hide his smile at the fact Mic was swearing and cursing over live air. "You're also an idiot if you think I'm going to die from a few thugs with inflated egos."

"You're… actually okay." The breath that Mic released sounded like it had carried weeks of tension. Shota found himself feeling bad for the stress he had caused the man - even if it was unintentional. "Wait, did you actually call in to request a song?"

"What other reason would I have to call in?" Shota hung up before he could say something incriminating, hating himself for the smile he could feel on his face at Mic's laughter - wild and loud and bright and filling up every inch of his apartment.

"Well, listeners, next up is a requested song that I'm dedicating to my favorite listener. I expect to see you back out on the streets soon, hero." The song that was imprinted across his memories started up and Shota relaxed back into the couch, gently scratching Jelly's back as he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

He was in far too deep with Present Mic. It was almost a shame that he couldn't even bring himself to regret one moment of it.

::

"Aw, come on, Eraser, you're so grumpy tonight! I think we need to erase that bad attitude!" Fukukado Emi, better known as the hero Ms. Joke, burst into laughter that made Shota want to lose his hearing altogether. He could only be grateful that he didn't need to waste his energy using his quirk to stop her own. Even she knew better than to use her quirk on him when they were out on an active patrol.

"You're noisy," Shota muttered, trailing along behind her as they walked the streets. He would usually take the rooftops, but Joke had never quite been able to keep up with him that way. The nights they and their agencies partnered together usually meant his feet stayed on the ground.

"C'mon, eraser! Just go on a date with me!" Weeks of recovery, days of arguing that he was ready, and long, tedious hours of reassuring Nemuri, and Shota had finally been allowed back on patrol. He was then chained to Joke because, he assumed, everyone hated him. "I know you're not busy this weekend!"

"Drop it, Joke." He wasn't 'busy' because Nemuri was practically forcing him to take more breaks until his body fully recovered. He was feeling his exhaustion, now, but he had a feeling that was more to do with Joke than anything else.

"Oh, I see how it is, Eraserhead." Head snapping up at the familiar voice, Shota startled as he saw Present Mic standing a few feet away from them. The man looked… wrong. His entire stance was closed off and his face was blank of emotion. What the hell had happened? He had been fine on his last radio show. "Just tell me… What does she have that I don't?!"

Present Mic, it seemed, was an ugly crier. He was also an absolute idiot because he was now sobbing over, what Shota assumed, was the 'fact' that he and Joke of all people were in a relationship. He honestly felt like he was losing brain cells the longer he tried to wrap his head around that thought. Finally, though, he managed to say the first words he had spoken to Mic since the last time they had seen each other, "Well, brains, for a start."

"Wait- Wait, wait, wait, this is Present Mic!" Joke was beaming, looking between the two before Shota saw an evil glint enter her eyes that reminded him far too much of Nemuri. "You're the one Eraser is always talking about, right! The funny, cute one with the radio show?" Nemuri, that rat.

"I'm what?" Mic's crying stopped at once, the man blinking at them with wide, startled eyes. Shota wished, with everything in him, that his quirk allowed him to sink into the earth and disappear.

"Yeah, yeah! Even I've heard a lot about you. Man, Eraser, no wonder you keep rejecting my date offers when you have your eye on this guy."

"I do not-"

"You talk about me!" The smile… was so bright. Shota had always thought it ridiculous to describe people in comparison to objects or nature, but, well, looking at Mic's smile was like looking at sunlight.

"I mention you," Shota finally conceded, watching with detached horror as Mic and Joke proceeded to laugh, bond, and become the best of friends within ten minutes. It seemed that Joke had not only betrayed his trust, but that Shota would never be able to live this night down.

::

"Well then, hero, how goes the day?" It had taken a better part of the night, but Shota had finally managed to separate Mic and Joke from becoming blood siblings. He was still trying to figure out when exactly that had ended with him and Mic sitting on top of a roof, legs swung over the side.

"Shouldn't it be night?" Shota raised an eyebrow, keeping a blank face at Mic's quiet, soft laugh. It was harder than he would have thought to not smile. "I'm fine. Nobody's yet to believe me when I say that, though."

"For good reason, I'd think. You looked like a mummy the last time I saw you on the news. It… It didn't look good, Eraser. The media has been having a field day about the attack at that U.A. training field."

"I'm aware." The media hadn't spared any force when it came to ripping into the heroes for their inability to stop the attack before it happened. The world always had its eyes on the hero schools, and Japan had a spotlight on U.A. To see the children attacked and even All Might almost losing? It was a sobering reality. "We'll recover."

"You, Eraser, are too much of what a hero should be." At the sharp, bitter laugh, Shota glanced over. Mic had removed his speaker and had his headphones resting around his neck, hearing aids clear to see with the way his hair was styled. Shota was still trying to figure out how the man could handle ear piercings when wearing hearing aids and headphones. "I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"There are some that would agree with you," Shota finally said, looking back down to the streets below them. "What's the point of having the power to help, though, if we don't."

"You're something else, hero." Twitching at the name a bit, Shota looked back to Mic and felt guilt clawing at him as it had been since he had heard about Mic's encounter with Nemuri. "Oh? That's not a good look. You know, you could give a guy the wrong-"

"I'm sorry." Hm. It looked like he had finally found a way to shut Mic up. Of course it came at the expense of his pride, but, well… This was more important than pride. "I don't regret the intent behind my words, but I do regret how I phrased them. I'm also sorry that it took so long to give you the apology you deserved."

"Ah, jeez, I- No, you don't have to-" Mic fumbled with his words for a moment, finally groaning as he rubbed at his eyes. "It's not like anything you were saying was wrong."

"Can you repeat that? I want to make sure you realize you just said you were wrong, and I was right." There was a punch to his shoulder that had him giving a quiet huff of laughter, Mic perking up at the sound. "Still. What I said was cruel."

"If it hadn't been you then it would have been someone else, eventually. I'm willing to pretend it never happened if you are, though." Mm. That seemed irresponsible. "That a yes?"

"Sure." The two were quiet for a moment - something Shota still couldn't believe Present Mic was capable of. Finally, though, he broke the silence with the question that had been on his mind since they saw each other earlier, "Are you going to tell me what's still bothering you? You haven't even made an attempt at causing trouble, tonight."

"Ah, you're too smart for me, Eraserhead," Mic sighed, loud and dramatic. He was hiding, but Shota didn't know what - yet. "That attack… The USJ attack they're calling it?"

"Unoriginal, but accurate," Shota snorted, giving a nod. "What about it? I already told you I was fine. The kids are, too."

"No, it's not… Someone approached me right before the attack. He said he wanted me to join a 'party' he and his friends throwing. He then implied that there was a way to bring down All Might… I don't know if they were working with that Trigger dealer, but they know the same circles."

"How could you tell?" This was serious, then. If there was overlap between all these groups, then what was the common thread? It had to be more than just a spike in villain activity.

"'A league onto their own.' A familiar phrase, right?" It was the phrase that dealer had said over Mic's show. "The dealer and this guy both phrased it exactly like that."

"There's an organization to it all, then." That meant more work, and it also meant more danger. Gangs and groups were one thing, but organized villainy to the extent of what happened at USJ… Shota couldn't help but feel that those villains he had seen in the center of it all had something to do with it. The man covered in hands and the monster that had almost defeated All Might.

"I should have accepted that offer." That had him startling, Mic's voice flat and serious, "I should have accepted so I could have been there. I could have- Shit, I could have done something. There's a chance you wouldn't have been hurt so bad if I was there-"

"And there's a chance that nothing would have changed," Shota said, cutting him off before he could spiral into whatever dark thoughts were picking away at him. "Your appearance could have made a difference, but then you'd be in a jail cell for longer than a week. Besides, I'm fine."

The movement was slow and cautious, but Shota still found himself unable to react as Mic's hand settled on his cheek, a rough and calloused thumb brushing against the scar that was now under his right eye. "You, my hero, are in no way fine," Mic said softly, voice quiet and wrecked. "You could have died."

"I…" He had done his best not to think about it. Shota had been doing his absolute best not to think about it, but… he really could have. It was nothing short of a miracle and his own stubbornness that he was still here. "And leave you to run rampant? I'd be a poor hero, in that case."

"Mm. I suppose we can't have that." The thumb pressed against the scar for a moment, Mic's skin dragging against his own and causing a new, unfamiliar feeling that had Shota shuddering with a hitch of his breath. "You'll be the end of me, hero."

Mic's voice was as soft and warm as his touch, bright green eyes staring at him with something that Shota was too afraid to even begin to name. As he stared at this man who had called himself a villain and yet proved himself the opposite, Shota couldn't help but realize the truth.

Maybe he would be the end of Mic, but he knew without a doubt that this man would be the end of him.