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“Shinsou, are you feeling ok?”
Hitoshi looked up abruptly from the food he was currently pushing in circles around his plate to see worried green eyes trained on him. The first thing he felt was confusion. He felt fine...?
“Um...yea, I feel ok...thanks for asking?” Hitoshi squinted, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.
Midoriya visibly paled before bringing his hands before him and waving them as a placating gesture, “O-oh ok! I’m sorry! That probably sounded—rude I really apologize I guess I just saw you weren’t eating very much and...you don’t usually have a problem with finishing your food in fact you have a pretty big appetite! —oh! Not that there’s anything wrong with that of course, you’re a growing boy and you need the nutrients! Actually we all do don’t we I wonder what the difference of our individual nutritional needs are, can they evaluate that—“
“Midoriya, it’s really fine. There was nothing wrong with your question.” Good god, Hitoshi didn’t think he saw him take a single breath throughout that entire mumble-storm. He watched as Midoriya took one then though, before returning to whatever he and Uraraka had been discussing before his inquiry.
Hitoshi then looked back down to his before-mentioned food. It’s true he wasn’t very hungry today; but that happened sometimes, rarely but it did. Especially if Hitoshi’s anxiety was perking it’s little obnoxious head up, which it tended to at times. Hitoshi took a deep breath in, taking stock of what he was feeling currently; while he couldn’t say he was feeling the best he’d ever felt, no outlying problems were alerting him.
He took comfort in knowing he had had a decent breakfast with Aizawa this morning, therefore he would be fine eating a bit less for lunch. As the rest of the table rose to move on to their next classes, he followed, depositing the remains of his food into the trash with the promise of eating a bigger dinner later.
••••••••••••••••
Hitoshi’s last class of the day was science, and while he wouldn’t say it’s his best subject, it wasn’t usually this hard. Not only could he not seem to concentrate, but a steady pressure, growing from unpleasant to uncomfortable was forming behind his eyes.
With a mental quirk like Hitoshi has, headaches were not uncommon. Overuse of his quirk led to them often, he had them as a child fairly regularly; but this along with the wall of fatigue that was crashing down on him while he did nothing but sit in his chair looking glassy eyed at his teacher had him questioning things.
Maybe Midoriya was onto something.
Dammit.
He and Midoriyas friendship certainly wasn’t cemented in brotherly bonds or anything dramatic like that but geez...the guy had an eye for this stuff. Probably because he’s usually in his fair share of not great situations himself, probably has a sixth sense Hitoshi thought, huffing gently in amusement—before pressing his thumbs to his temples because god even that hurt.
He let his drowsy gaze follow his teacher as she drew various diagrams on the whiteboard, while his thoughts wandered off somewhere else. He blinked and class was over, the scuffing of shoes and rustling of bags being packed for the day alerting him of the fact.
It mildly distressed him that he couldn’t recall a single thing that was taught that period. Figuring there was nothing to be done for it however (he could always borrow class notes), he put away his various materials and followed his classmates into the hallway.
He felt a small wave of relief however that now he could go home and rest. His bed sounded incredible right now. Imagining sinking into his soft mattress, pulling the warm covers to his chin—
A jarring clap to the shoulder brought him out of his reverie, an act that on its own was usually innocent; but not now. The violent vibrations rippled from his shoulder to his increasingly aching head, bringing with it a new sensation of dizziness that caused Hitoshi to pitch forward.
Hitoshi saw floor tile rapidly approaching his now surprise widened eyes, automatically bringing his hands forward to break the fall that was inevitable at this point. Instead of cool tile meeting his palms he felt two hands wrap themselves around his waist, halting any forward motion. If Hitoshi was being honest, it hurt just a bit.
Settled back onto his feet now, the hands left their resting place before a familiar face came around to face him. Monoma.
“Geez dude, didn’t mean to scare you like that, guess I don’t know my own strength,” he declared, wiggling a single eyebrow.
Hitoshi liked Monoma. He also knew most people didn’t feel the same, especially 1-A; which honestly he couldn’t blame them for. Guy was a douche. But so was Hitoshi in some people’s eyes so they had that going for them. Hitoshi wouldn’t say they were close friends but they said hello in the halls and ate lunch together sometimes. Things were fine.
“You looked like you were spacing out, didn’t mean to push you over though.”
Hitoshi barely registered the boy’s words, his eyes felt like they were being forcibly removed by his own brain, kicked out to make space for whatever pressure was building inside his skull.
“Shinsou? Man, you ok?”
He did however pick up on the worried tone that he had certainly never heard before from Monoma. He wanted to leave, his bed was becoming less of a desire and more of a need.
He blinked a few times before saying, “Yea, I’m fine. It’s ok, thanks for catching me at least. I can’t stick around today I gotta get going but I’ll see you tomorrow ok?”
Hitoshi turned away, heading the direction of the nearest exit, not even stopping to hear Monoma’s answer. He could apologize later, right now he had to focus on the walk home.
As he exited the doors, the bright afternoon sun assaulted his eyes, bringing new waves of pain and hitting him with a bout of dizziness that had him grabbing at the hand railing for safety. Don’t fall down the stairs...don’t fall down the stairs... He repeated this mantra until he successfully did not fall down the stairs, taking a deep steadying breath at the bottom before continuing his trek back to his and Aizawa’s shared apartment. He sighed. This was going to be difficult.
•••••••••••••••
He wasn’t wrong, it was difficult. Hitoshi closed the door behind him, limbs not quite responding as he would have wished and accidentally all but slamming it in his wake. Internally he cringed at the noise, but his body was just too listless to share in a physical response.
God he was tired. He heard the jingle of a bell, a bit more tinny sounding than usual, make its way towards his slowly moving frame as he removed his shoes. His and Aizawa’s orange tabby, Eugene, chirped before rubbing his whiskered cheeks against Hitoshi’s pant leg. Hitoshi couldn’t deny any longer that he felt like utter crap, but the sweet purrs radiating from the animal couldn’t fail to bring a slight curve to Hitoshi’s mouth anyway.
The pressure in his head mounted and pounded firmly against his forehead as he squatted to give the cat affection, stroking its back a number of times before the discomfort had him rising again.
He regretted squatting in the first place as a wave of pain and dizziness assaulted his head, sending him staggering into the wall right next to him. He reached his hand out to steady himself, and brought the other to cradle his imploding cranium. Black spots swirled behind his closed eyes when did he close them? as he felt moisture gather within his longest lashes at the corners of them.
He felt his knees tremble beneath him as he tried to breathe through the waves of dizziness. The wall that was clearly sturdy and stable felt like it was made of some viscous liquid, undulating as an ocean would and moving him with it.
He felt heat creep up his neck, flushing his cheeks as newly formed sweat accumulated on his brow. He shuddered, slowly moving his legs, his hand still gripping the wall. All he could think about was getting himself to bed, sleep was good when you’re sick right? He was pretty sure anyway...his vision was a little blurry and his thoughts weren’t making all that much sense at the moment.
He crept along the wall, each slow and careful step worsening his pounding head. He was so tired...he felt his eyes fighting to stay open as his hand left the wall, heading for the small hallway at the end of the living room that contained his bedroom door. Left alone with no handhold he struggled to stay upright, but two wobbly steps later his hand gained purchase again inside the hallway. He could see the handle of his door a few steps away, relief flooding him at the sight. Almost there...
The world spun and his breath hitched as he vaguely felt his right shoulder hit something, sending shooting pain through his skull before his vision went black.
••••••••••••••••••••
Shouta felt his stomach rumble as he walked the long hallway to the front door of his apartment. As was per usual on Wednesdays, the UA staff stayed behind a bit later to have any meetings between themselves; updating each other on the progress of shared students, giving advice for future lesson plans, planning any future events or class co-ops, etc.
As this was the case, Shouta never made it home before five o’clock at the absolute earliest on this day; but today had been one of the exceptions to that, it being near seven. This happened regularly enough that Shouta had let Hitoshi know early on after his adoption that he could eat without him when this happened, no need to starve himself waiting indefinite amounts of time for his mentor.
Because of that, the thought of what Hitoshi fed himself for dinner crossed Shouta’s mind as he turned the key to unlock his apartment door, but stopped short when he realized it was already unlocked.
Shouta wasn’t alarmed, there was no reason to be. Sure, he preferred Hitoshi to keep the door locked when he was home alone, simply as a precaution; but of course this wasn’t mandatory and he could understand forgetting it from time to time. Oh well, he might mention it once he got inside.
“I’m home,” he announced, dropping his keys into the small bowl on the shelf to his left, taking off his shoes. Hitoshi didn’t respond, but unless he was within a few feet of the door when Shouta returned, he usually didn’t.
Shouta didn’t catch any wafts of leftover food smells in the air as he made his way into the dining room and towards the kitchen. Maybe the kid had cereal. Shouta knew he did sometimes, even though Shouta was not a fan of such sustenance being considered a meal; but then Hitoshi argued back about his jelly packs and the subject was always dropped.
As he entered the kitchen, he thought about the leftover takeout in the fridge that he was hoping was still around. Opening the fridge and seeing that it was, he turned to the microwave on the other side of the kitchen, eyes roaming past the countertop to peek into the living area that was easily visible from where he stood.
He expected to see purple hair sitting on one of the couches, perhaps hunched over and completing homework, or just relaxing and watching some television. When he came up empty, he turned back to his task of reheating food and set the container inside the machine before adding a couple minutes to the timer.
Maybe the kid was in his room? Probably. Also, where’s the cat? Eugene was as social as it gets, it’s rare that he isn’t absolutely screaming at Shouta when he walks in the door, but maybe the kid’s got his door closed and the boys are cuddling. He huffed, even the idea was cute.
Leaving the microwave to do its thing, he figured he’d peek in on the two, entering the living room and making his way to the small hallway that jutted off the far wall, containing two doorways across from each other. One to Shouta’s room, the other Hitoshi’s.
The hallway contained no windows, so unless a door was open to let out some light, it remained dark for most of the day. Which is the only reason why it took Shouta so long to see a dark figure on the ground, slumped against the right wall next to Hitoshi’s door. Purple hair—
Shouta felt his breath hitch as he all but catapulted himself the last few feet toward what he knew now was Hitoshi. He brought his body around to face the boy, who he could immediately see was unconscious. His legs were splayed awkwardly beneath him, hands limp on his angled thighs.
He really just dropped here— Shouta brought a hand to cradle the cheek that was currently becoming one with the wall, meaning to rouse the boy. Instead the searing heat that met his palm took his breath away, true fear actually taking hold for just a moment. No Shouta, he’s just sick, it’s just a fever. Get him up, in bed, get some meds down him. He’ll be fine!
This was all new to Shouta. Sure, the boy had been living with him for a few months at this point, and it’s not like he’s never been around sick children; but taking care of one on his own —this would be a first. Logically, it should be pretty simple: he needed to keep the boy hydrated, try to get him to take some fever reducers, and make sure he rested. Simple. Cause and effect. Logical.
But logic didn’t rid him of the anxiety pooling in his stomach at seeing his boy like this.
He needed to move him, leaning against the wall like this couldn’t be comfortable, no matter how unconscious he was. Shouta placed his hands beneath Hitoshi’s arms, lifting and bringing him to his chest, heat radiating off the boy and stinging Shouta even through multiple layers of clothing. His worry spiked once more.
Hitoshi didn’t stir as Shouta brought his arms beneath the boys back and knees, rising from the ground in one swift movement and turning not to Hitoshi’s bedroom, but his own. The boy’s head lolled listlessly backward as Shouta tried to lessen any strain on his neck that the position would cause. Only then did he notice the labored breathing, quick and shallow.
Gently, he laid Hitoshi’s burning body on the side of the bed nearest him, deciding to forgo any covers at the moment. His number one priority was hunting down a thermometer and fever medication.
He hurriedly made his way to the attached master bath, seeking out the cabinet that held anything related to first aid. It had been quite a while since he himself had been sick, but he was fairly certain he could find some supplies buried in the back. A few minutes later, longer than he had hoped to take, he had hunted down a thermometer and some fever reducer.
The medicine was in liquid form, so that wasn’t ideal. Hitoshi is this state would have been hard enough to get pills down, let alone a sticky, sickly sweet liquid.
He entered the bedroom once more to a now shivering Hitoshi. Only now did Shouta really give himself a moment to take in the boy’s appearance.
Sweat matted lilac locks plastered themselves to an equally drenched forehead, pale as death skin contrasting with dark circles beneath the boy’s eyes. His open mouth released desperate pants, breathing still shallow and quick.
Shouta let his eyes wander down to the school uniform that Hitoshi still wore, obviously never having gotten the chance to even take it off. The thought hit Shouta: Hitoshi gets home around 3:30, I didn’t make it home until 7:00— His anxiety spiked once more that the kid could have been lying there drifting in and out of consciousness for hours.
His thoughts returned to the moment, now noticing the sweat staining both the collar of his blazer and the white button up beneath. This kid was searing, and Shouta thought of the supplies he had brought from the bathroom.
He needed to get a read on the temperature his boy was running, and getting him comfortable was a priority as well. It was also concerning that throughout this whole ordeal Hitoshi had not woken once.
He sat beside Hitoshi on the bed. Carefully, he lifted the boy, hands placed behind his neck and shoulders. Holding him close, inches from his face, he stroked the boys cheek, “Hitoshi? I’m gonna take off your blazer, you’re sweating through it...” He let his voice trail off.
No response.
“Hey, Hitoshi. I need you to open your eyes for me, ok kid?” He tapped firmly on the same cheek in quick succession. A violent shiver ran the length of the boy’s body before lilac eyes cracked open.
Shouta couldn’t help the small sigh of relief he felt escape him. “Hey, you with me?”
“Sen...sei?”
“Yea...Hitoshi you’re pretty sick. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”
Hitoshi’s eyes were glassy and unfocused as he stared at Shouta, not responding. He took a deep, shuddering breath before releasing it, face scrunching up in pain.
“H...urts...sensei...”
Shouta felt his heart drop. “What hurts Hitoshi?”
No more words were shared. A shaky hand was brought up to Hitoshi’s head, pain clearly showing across the boy’s features. A small whimper escaped his throat as the hand dropped again, the boy deflating in Shouta’s hands from the exhaustion the simple act caused.
Taking that as meaning he probably had a raging headache, Shouta turned to the bedside table that held the items he had fetched. He reached for the thermometer, pushing the button to turn it on.
Nothing happened.
Oh no. He pushed it again, and again, knowing the outcome would be the same. The batteries had clearly died between now and the last time he had used it.
Shit.
He turned back to Hitoshi, still in his arms and in pain. Shouta cringed as he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forearm from where he was holding onto the boys head/neck.
“Hitoshi, you have to take some medicine. I need you to sit up ok?”
The only response he got from Hitoshi was the opening of his eyes again as he tried to move his weak muscles towards the edge of the bed. Shouta was technically blocking him, so he got up to retrieve the medication, unscrewing the top and pouring the prescribed amount into the small plastic cup provided.
As he finished, out of the corner of his eye he saw Hitoshi successfully bring his feet to the floor, eyes shutting again in fatigue. Shouta returned to the mattress, sitting beside the boy just in time for him to list heavily to the side, landing firmly on Shouta’s shoulder.
“Not yet, sleepyhead, gotta do this first,” he nudged the boy back to a sitting position, jostling him so he knew he would wake.
Hitoshi looked blankly ahead, eyes glassy and unfocused as Shouta tried to hand him the small cup. Shouta watched as with trembling hands the boy took it and knocked back the syrup, a soft cough and sputter resulting from the disgusting taste, his face twisted in disgust.
“Sorry kid, I know it’s gross, but it does the job,” he said as he started to maneuver Hitoshi’s arms out of his blazer. The kid was limp and staring off into nothing as Shouta did so, not resisting but not helping either. Shouta wondered if he really even knew he was removing it in the first place.
“Stay sitting for just another minute while I grab some water, you need it.”
Shouta rose off the bed slowly, making sure Hitoshi had regained his balance and wouldn’t topple onto the floor before rushing to the kitchen to fill a glass with water.
After returning and helping him drink it, the full glass seemingly too much for the boy’s weak arm muscles to handle at the moment, Shouta helped Hitoshi lay down again, bringing the thick comforter over top of him up to his chin.
Hitoshi seemingly gratefully took it, tucking it under himself. Shouta’s heart hurt at how small and fragile he looked, vulnerable and hurting.
A soft, “thanks...sensei...”, followed by silence as sleep took the boy under its grasp once more, interrupted Shouta’s thoughts.
Shouta felt a tiny smile stretch his lips, “Happy to do it Hitoshi.”
He carded calloused hands through sweaty lilac hair before rising from beside Hitoshi on the mattress and leaving the room, leaving the door open behind him. Shouta walked out to the living room, grabbing his phone from the kitchen where he had left it when beginning to warm up his dinner. That seemed like a lifetime ago, and he certainly was not hungry now.
Worry gnawed at his stomach still, the most pressing reason being that he couldn’t even tell how bad of a fever this was given he had a dead thermometer.
He sat back on the couch, and opened up his messages to Hizashi.
hey, hitoshi came down with something and he’s got a pretty high fever right now. thermometer died tho, think I could bother you to pick one up? don’t really want to leave him all alone
hey shou!❤️💖💘 aw the poor little guy :(( yea! anything else??🤔😝😋
actually if you could get some more fever reducers, all I had was that syrup stuff. didn’t go down super well
ok! i can be there in...30?😁😄😃
k thanks
••••••••••••••••••••
Hizashi came and went, bringing the sorely needed supplies. He also brought soup from a local place that he informed Shouta “could kick a cold’s ass!”. Shouta informed him that he was pretty sure this wasn’t a simple cold, but when Hizashi pressed the matter he didn’t explain further. Part of Shouta didn’t want to admit that it could be anything more serious, he technically had no proof and that would just be setting his mind down a path that would further stress him out.
He decided to wait another twenty minutes or so to take Hitoshi’s temperature, making sure to give plenty of time for the meds to kick in.
He brought up a game on his phone, just to kill some idle time until then, when he heard a thump from the bedroom.
Already being on edge, he jumped from the couch, throwing his phone in some unknown direction while sprinting to the room.
The door was open, and Shouta’s heart fell even further than it had sat previously at the sight.
Hitoshi had fallen from the bed, and appeared to be currently hyperventilating. Alone, and if his face was anything to go by, scared. He had clearly rolled off the edge, blankets still entangling his feet while his arms were before him and reaching out for something.
Shouta could hear the breathy whimpers coming from him between gasps of air as he neared the boy. Grasping one of the searching hands and placing his other upon the side of Hitoshi’s face, he called out firmly, “Hitoshi!”
He didn’t even flinch, his breathing still erratic and hurried. At this point Shouta was worried he would pass out, so he grabbed the boy, pulling him up off the floor and into the position he had earlier, torso close to his chest.
Holding him now, he could see clouded eyes roaming the room, unfocused and afraid. Shouta recalled that high fevers could produce terrible nightmares, as well as hallucinations.
Shouta firmly shook him, “Hitoshi! Hitoshi it’s Aizawa. I need you to slow down, breathe for me.” Shouta grabbed one of the boy’s limp hands laying beside them and held it to his own chest, taking exaggerated and slow breaths, hoping his kid would feel what he was trying to get him to do.
Hitoshi’s breath hitched, lilac eyes settling somewhere on Shouta’s face. As soon as the relief of Hitoshi maybe coming back to him came, it left; replaced by a feeling similar to being kicked in the chest.
“...dad?”
Shouta literally flinched, nearly dropping the boy in the process. “Hitoshi...” Shouta’s heart was pounding, the shockwaves of what his kid had said still rippling through him.
Shouta allowed himself a small smile. “Yea kid...close enough.”
He let the hand go that had been cradled to his own chest, bringing his now free one to run through even sweatier than earlier locks. His palm met the hotter than ever heat of the boy’s forehead, you can think about that later, he’s clearly not in his right mind right now. Which was beyond worrisome.
Hitoshi’s breathing had evened but was still ragged and sounded painful. Still clouded, unfocused eyes rested somewhere around Shouta’s chin. The boy was gone again. Sense of urgency returning, Shouta untangled the rest of the sheets keeping Hitoshi prisoner and picked him up, remembering to wrap one blanket around him before bringing him to the living room and laying him down again on the couch. He had left the things Hizashi had brought on the kitchen counter, and he really didn’t feel comfortable leaving the boy alone to grab them.
Finally having what he needed, he tried to stick the utensil underneath the unconscious boy’s tongue. Assuming he succeeded, he waited until the tell-tale beep.
104.1
With fever reducers?! Just when he thought the pit in his stomach couldn’t grow any more, it bottomed out. Hitoshi’s teeth chattered from the chills wracking his still form while Shouta momentarily panicked.
Phone. He needed help.
After searching unsuccessfully for too long, he finally found his phone nestled up against a baseboard on the far edge of the room. Aggravated, he immediately dialed Hizashi’s number.
“Oh hey Sho—!“
“Hizashi, I need you. Hitoshi’s fever is over 104 and he’s unresponsive/delirious. He needs a hospital—“
“Shou, calm down. I’m coming, I’m not far.” Hizashi’s tone had gone from playful to serious like a flip of a switch. Shouta appreciated it.
“Ok.”
Hanging up he returned to Hitoshi’s side, kneeling beside the couch. Hitoshi’s eyebrows were knitted together, eyelids fluttering. Shouta was sure he was still seeing unpleasant things behind them. He so wished he could just fix this, take this away for him.
When he finally heard Hizashi open the door with a crash, Shouta already had Hitoshi in his arms, the boy trembling furiously against Shouta’s shoulder and chest. A worried and sympathetic look from Hizashi and they were near running out the door.
••••••••••••••••••••
It was hot. God it was hot. He could feel sweat on his face, dripping down the nape of his neck. He yearned to wipe it away, he could feel his limbs, could feel sensations, pressure; but they wouldn’t respond.
He couldn’t move.
Shadows danced across his vision, threatening blacks and dark blues. Darkness covered him, threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t like the dark, he doesn’t like it—
His chest ached, why couldn’t he move? He couldn’t breathe, the heat was stifling. He could feel panic rising, like molten lava, burning and destroying as it rose. The fear was too much, he needed to get out he needed—
•••••••••••••••••
A short car ride later found the three males at the front of the ER, Hizashi rounding the parked car quickly to open the back door where Shouta still held an unconscious Hitoshi. Somehow he maneuvered both his own and Hitoshi’s bodies out of the narrow door without banging the kid’s already aching head against the frame of the car.
After standing up and trying to briefly stretch his back while still holding an entire sixteen year old boy, he picked the pace back up and made his way inside.
Shouta didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the experience and visage of the way the fluorescent lights displayed Hitoshi’s condition as he entered the sliding doors of the building. Everything in such harsh relief, it felt hyper real. Visually it felt like grinding himself against a brick wall, all sharp edges and hurt. He would never forget it, he knew.
Quickly reaching the desk and explaining the situation to the current receptionist took no time at all and she informed him that someone was on their way to assist him. Sitting was pointless, they would be there within moments.
He took the opportunity to look down on the boy in his arms once more. His shaking was worse than ever, an unhealthy pallor only contrasted by burning red circles staining the apples of his cheeks. He was twitching a concerning amount, eyelids still fluttering as they had been at home. Small gasps mixed with incoherent mumbles were now audible.
Shouta furrowed his brow, not liking these new developments. He tightened his grasp on the boy, not wanting to accidentally drop him from the new movement he was now combating.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
Shouta’s eyes widened in shock as Hitoshi’s entire body tensed, lilac eyes flying open, more alert than Shouta had seen them for hours. He only had a moment to register this before Hitoshi retched, vomit covering a large portion of his own chest and lap considering how Shouta had been holding him.
Terrified eyes swung side to side until vaguely registering Shouta; a deep breath...and he retched again.
Shouta’s ears barely registered the nurse from before calling for help as he lowered the boy to the ground, letting the now soaked blanket fall from Hitoshi’s shoulders. He shook uncontrollably now, unable to lift himself up; but he needed to, because the retching would not stop.
Shouta had one arm circling Hitoshi’s waist, the other pressing into his chest, almost entirely holding his weight as Hitoshi was on all fours. He had already emptied his stomach, but his body clearly wasn’t done torturing him yet.
Finally, after what felt like eons Shouta saw the signature clothing of nurses appear in his peripheral vision. Multiple sets of hands rushed to take his boy, and Shouta had to remind himself that this was good and what needed done; but every part of him wanted to rip them away and cradle the boy to his own chest.
But he knew he couldn’t do a single thing, Hitoshi had gotten this bad under his watch...he wouldn’t easily forget that.
He watched as medical professionals lifted his boy to a waiting gurney, laying him on his side so he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit.
Shouta felt his heart stop.
Hitoshi had yet to look worse; fat tears rolled down his cheeks, no doubt from the pain caused from dry heaving so much. He sobbed in between shaky inhales, eyes swollen and red from both the pressure of retching and crying.
A hand reached out to Shouta as the nurses situated Hitoshi to be moved. A shockingly gravelly, abused voice met Shouta’s ears.
“Sensei...”
Shouta moved so fast he didn’t remember doing it.
“Hitoshi, they’re going to take care of you. I’ll be here, don’t worry...don’t worry...” He held fast to the hand that had reached for him for comfort. Hitoshi was scared, he could see it plainly written on his face.
A nurse instructed him to back away, and he ground his teeth as he reluctantly let go of his boy’s hand. Instead of the fear that Shouta thought would blanket Hitoshi’s face as he let his fingers fall away, relief seemed to play across his sick, fevered expressions.
That was about all that Shouta could take solace in as they wheeled him away, and he was left to wait in a cold, hateful waiting room.
••••••••••••••••
Hizashi had decided to join him after parking the car. Shouta filled him in on what had occurred not ten feet from them moments before he appeared.
Shouta was still shaken from the experience, and his anxiety wouldn’t be going down anytime soon. Not until he heard from the doctors about his boy.
He took out his phone, trying to distract himself. He watched the terrible late night television that played on the ancient box hung in the corner of the room. He tried to talk to Hizashi...but fluent thoughts weren’t making themselves available to Shouta’s brain at the moment.
After an hour of anxious leg tapping, he felt a familiar weight upon his shoulder.
“Shou, it’ll be alright. They’ve got this, fevers are pretty run of the mill. Don’t worry too much if you can help it.” He gave a gentle smile, patting Shouta’s shoulder with care.
Shouta dropped his head into his hands and sighed. “Nothing about that felt ‘run of the mill’ Hizashi...god, my brain wouldn’t stop telling me that he was going to die...and technically it hasn’t stopped. I haven’t seen or heard from the doctors in an HOUR,” he let the last word echo through the room, directing it specifically towards the nurses station. He didn’t care if it was rude, he was tired and on edge. Honestly, he could be doing worse.
Hizashi huffed, smiling. “They’re doing what they can and you know it grumpy pants.”
Shouta rubbed his hands down his exhausted face before leaning back into the chair, letting his head fall back unsupported by the chair. Extremely uncomfortable. He didn’t give a shit.
He hurt elsewhere more. His heart hurt, his head hurt from hurling insults at itself. He felt shame and blame more than he would like to admit. No matter how unrealistic it was, Shouta felt responsible for how everything had gone down.
He was inexperienced; maybe he didn’t pay close enough attention, some sign glaring in his face that things would get this bad but he didn’t catch it. Hitoshi relied on him, needed him...and he failed him.
“Hey, stop that.”
Shouta jolted out of his thoughts, black eyes meeting vivid green.
“I can see you’ve got some dark thoughts swirling around in there,” Hizashi tapped Shouta’s forehead, “but you’re wrong and they get you nowhere. Look.” Hizashi pointed ahead of them, towards the doors that Shouta had been glaring a hole into for the last hour.
A doctor had emerged and was headed straight for them.
Shouta didn’t let him even get halfway.
“How is he?”
The doctor, to his credit, took this in stride. Shouta couldn’t be the only overbearing parent he had ever had to deal with.
“Aizawa Shouta, I’m assuming?” After a nod he continued. “Shinsou is stable, we were able to begin to bring the fever down with medication.”
Shouta could have sunk to the floor he was so relieved, but his curiosity for what else the doctor had to say kept him standing.
“He was severely dehydrated, and his fever topped out at 105.2 when we got a read on his vitals. It’s a good thing you brought him in Mr. Aizawa, he could have easily gone to sleep and never woken again. I don’t think I need to school you on the dangers of dehydration; the confusion and delirium he was experiencing were signs of his body shutting down.
“We did a few tests, since fevers always come from somewhere and usually when they get this high, more often than not we find a raging infection somewhere; but they all came back negative, it truly was just a bad bout of the flu.
“He’ll need to stay for observation for at least the next day, his fever is still high and that will take time to come down. Thankfully, everything is reversible with the care we are giving him now. He needs copious amounts of rest, and he may feel weak for the next week or so but everything should return to normal.”
Shouta thanked him, true genuine appreciation coloring his words. Shouta said goodbye to a retreating Hizashi, promising an update as he followed the doctor back to the hospital room.
Just outside the door, Shouta took a deep breath, steadying himself. He followed the man inside and his eyes found a sleeping Hitoshi on a single, white bed. That hyper real feeling from before hit him; just how dangerous this had been. How close he had come to perhaps even losing this boy before him.
The doctor briefly explained the oxygen mask before leaving, his levels had been low, not surprising as high fevers often bring with them breathing difficulties.
Shouta nodded, barely noticing the man leave the room. His eyes were practically glued to Hitoshi as he walked to the side of the bed furthest from the door, his back facing the large window currently blocked by thick curtains. Not that it mattered, it was the middle of the night.
Shouta felt shaky and numb, the adrenaline from the night finally completely leaving his system. God he was tired. But he felt that sweet exhaustion, that relieving emptiness that felt good when there was nothing left to do, no more danger to prepare for, and welcomed it.
He all but collapsed into the chair next to the railing of the bed, bringing both hands to hold Hitoshi’s nearest. He squeezed it tightly, smiling to himself now that he felt he could.
Shouta knew he wasn’t great at expressing things verbally most of the time, but he really had a few things he could say right now if he had the opportunity.
Apologies, fears, happiness, he could express them all.
But instead he squeezed the warm, still living hand within his own firmly, and laid his head down on the sliver of mattress beside his boy, a dreamless sleep overtaking him.
••••••••••••••••••••
Hitoshi felt heavy. His limbs tingled with disuse, and his head felt as if a weight were pressing him into the soft surface he lay prone upon.
A bed? Was he home? How long has he been asleep? Shouldn’t he be getting up for school? What time was it?
He cracked his eyes open, a dim darkness meeting them. Hitoshi was glad for that, as his- not quite hurting- head would have no doubt protested.
His ears finally picked up on the rhythmic beeping coming from one of the multiple machines beside him, and he could immediately place together where he was.
Hospital? How—
Flashes of memories appeared then, specifically ones of pain. His head had been splitting in two, he was on the ground, Aizawa was holding him. Shouting...he was afraid...Hitoshi moved his tongue around his own mouth; he definitely puked at some point.
Wait, Aizawa—
He finally looked around, finding to his right black hair, splayed every which way across the small amount of mattress that he could capitalize on. A hand still gripped his own, strong even in his slumber.
Hitoshi couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling that soared through his chest that had nothing to do with his fever. Aizawa made him feel like this sometimes, not very often; neither of them were very touchy-feely. But Hitoshi couldn’t help the smile that crept upon his face.
Hitoshi was sick, and Aizawa stayed. He hadn’t gone anywhere. He had held him and helped him...he’s sure more than he even knows the half of, if they now found themselves in the hospital with Hitoshi having nary a memory of the experience.
The warm feeling only increased at these realizations. Hitoshi lay back again, fatigue still intensely present, feeling overwhelmed with...what exactly?
He wasn’t entirely sure, but whatever it was it was a good feeling, he could always figure it out later. With a smile on his face and a squeeze of a calloused, kind hand, he slept.