hiraeth
(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past

It was always the quiet days that got him.

The ones which were filled with paperwork and deadlines and chatter didn't wear him down as much as the ones spent in bed, staring through the window, waiting for Izuku to help him with his routine.

He could sit up by himself, even wobble around the apartment somehow, with the help of his cane. But on most days the pain and uneasiness were enough to hold him down like heavy shackles bound around his legs.

He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes, and trying to go back to sleep. Sleeping was safe. His body rarely hurt then, and nightmares didn't bother him that often. He pretty much only had them when he was ill and that wasn't often thankfully.

A bird started twirling and whistling something behind the window and he pressed the pillow to his ears, careful to not jostle his shoulder too much. It still hurt.

All his joints ached horribly. It would rain soon. So why foolish bird oh why were you looking for a mate then?

It was… He didn't know what that bird was. It was so long since he was outside for anything other than to go to the office, and that was rare too. He could do most of his work home either way.

He patted around his nightstand for his phone and quickly searched up and download a bird finding app, BirdNET or something. Irrelevant.
It was pretty intuitive, he pressed the correct button, recorded bird's lovely annoying twirling, and searched it up.

Nightingale, huh?

Below was some bullshit info about the symbolism of love and night. It didn't matter. Nothing fucking mattered. Why did he even look it up? It wasn't interesting. It was—

Spiking pain shot through his leg and he yelped, unprepared for it no matter how many times it happened.
It always came at random, rendering him unable to move, unable to think for several minutes at a time.

A constant reminder of his failure as a hero. A reminder that he would never again be one.

He and Izuku were supposed to be a hero duo. The mighty Deku on the frontlines and him, quiet Mindjack working in the shadows.

But he wasn't strong enough.

Getting captured felt… embarrassing at most. He was convinced Izuku would find him, he had a tracker under the skin and all that… And one of the villains ripped it out of him the moment he realized that. And then a muddy warp gate, some sort of different hideout, torture, torture, torture—

By the time the agency found him two weeks have passed.

It wasn't anyone's fault but the villains. A perfect match up of quirks for capture. A person with X-ray eyes, a person with cloak-like invisibility that could cover several meters, another one able to instantly remove all bio-[dowody] around him, leaving no trace of the group, forementioned warp gate and a, oh irony, brainwasher who took care of witnesses.

It was a miracle he came back alive.
It was an even bigger one that he didn't get his legs amputated.

Sometimes he wished that the doctors haven't made the decision to save them, apparently, phantom pain would be easier to deal with. And his reality was mostly wheelchair, either way, maybe he would get those fancy prosthetics too…

But he wouldn't be able to get back to hero work either way.

Various injuries to the throat, stomach, intestines… They ruined him.

And now he was just a burden. Just a burden carried by the husband who pitied him.

Izuku wasn't acting much different, somehow found the perfect balance between helping him out and letting him do his own thing, going as far as building a new house just for him so he could be as comfortable as possible…

But Hitoshi wasn't stupid, he could see how he looked at him sometimes. He was a burden. And one Izuku wouldn't be able to drop without media catching whiff of it and dragging him down, so he continued on as if he was still happy.

Sometimes, sometimes on those quiet days, Hitoshi wondered if there were enough painkillers in the bathroom closet to end him. But mysteriously there always seemed to be an amount that would only last for a day or two, never less, never more.

So Izuku knew.

Hitoshi just couldn't figure out for the life of him why he wouldn't just let him have it. Just a bit of peace, just a bit of relief. A few hours of additional agony that wouldn't be much different from his usual days and he would be free.

But no, Izuku preferred quietly asking him if he finally decided for the therapist, and if he would agree to SSRI medication.

Well jokes on him, clearly he hasn't done his research as well as he thought. But Hitoshi didn't blame him. It wasn't common knowledge that people with mental quirks type A21 couldn't take hormone inhibitors and a whole list of other medications.

The persistent Nightgale thrilled, sounding a little closer to the window than it did before.
Hitoshi wanted to… maybe laugh? Maybe cry?

He screamed instead.

"Give up motherfucker! Give up! There's no love, she won't love you! Really! Stop! You won't find her! You'll die alone!"

He finally settled for both laughing and crying, choking on air as his chest contracted with fits of something that felt and sounded too unhinged to come from his weak body. But it did.

Maybe he was crazy… Another tick on the checklist of "why I am not useful to society".

The days where he was worth something were gone. It really was just waiting for death, wasn't it?
He zoned out and realized it only when he heard the front door opening.

Izuku was back.

A glance at the window informed him that it did indeed rain as his joints predicted. The outside world was silent for once, without a single sound of any lovesick birds trying to murder him with sound.

"Hi Hitoshi," Izuku stood in the door, sending him a tired smile. "How was your day?"

It took his entire willpower to not snap back, or cry again.

"It was…" spent on thinking what could have been but isn't? "…fine."

"That's good. I'll be back in a moment, just let me get out of costume," he sent him a brilliant smile and turned around, his voice fading. "I brought some mochi, I thought you would appreciate something sweet considering the weather. Oh right, do you need more painkillers or something stronger? Of course you do, ack, why did I forget, I even checked the forecast—" his voice faded completely, as the bathroom door shut down.

Hitoshi let his head roll back to the window. Maybe he would be able to get back to sleep?