BNHA Angst Oneshots

Little Talks

A/N: Drink water loves, this one hurts

"Good morning, Hitoshi. How did you sleep?" I ask softly, helping the tired man into a sitting position. His once purple hair now reflected lines of silver, a soft grunt escaping his lips as he sits. His tired eyes meet mine, a slight smile on the corners of his lips.

"Oh, hey! I slept fine. I'm not as young as I once was, you know." He chuckles softly to himself. His hands create a light scratching sound as he rubs his stubble on his chin. His work as a pro hero had deteriorated him rather quickly, while only in his thirties, he had over worked himself to this state. His face still held it's youthful vigor, his body denying him the same pleasantries. Calluses covered his hands, joints stiff from overwork, his mind fleeting from the overuse of his quirk. He takes my hand, clasping in tightly between his.

"Would you mind getting me a cup of coffee?" he asks politely, his smile deep and sincere. His deep purple eyes give dull shine as I feel his hands tremble slightly.

"Of course, Hitoshi. You know I'll do anything you ask." He chuckles softly once again as he reaches for his daily newspaper on his nightstand. I walk from his room, humming softly to myself as I start the coffee pot. On his good days, he's vibrant and making his own coffee. On the bad, his smile still reminds me that he's in there, just lost in the dark confines of his mind. Today reflected a dark day, his frail form sinking against the headboard while he reads the paper, looking for familiar names, eager for a moment that lets him feel in control of the moment.

He's proud of his family's accomplishments. He keeps a scrapbook in the top drawer. The pages are lined with friends and family's headlines. Their smiling faces as they're ranked or have a successful mission. His father has his own section. Pages littered with a similar tired face with a smile that matches Hitoshi's. Shota Aizawa had been the driving force for Hitoshi's dreams. He always strived for the same level of heart every mission and student brought. A sense of hope driving every heartbeat, all the blood and sweat he used making this world a better place.

The smell of coffee brings me back to the present. I pour the dark liquid into a mug adorned with little black cats. Hitoshi's favorite mug. I pour my own cup and walk back into the room. Hitoshi rests comfortably against the headboard, lost in the articles of the paper. He smiles brightly at me as I hand him his morning coffee. He folds his paper and sets it beside him. He gives a pleased grunt as he takes a whiff of the coffee. Black, no cream or sugar, just like his dad. I set my mug down, opening the curtains to his room. Warm sunlight fills the room, reflecting off the awards hanging on the walls.

I take my seat next to his bed, crossing my legs contently. Hitoshi looks up from his mug, his purple eyes shining. He points to the award at his bedside. "I got this one by stopping a villain with a brainwashing quirk." He boosts, his face reflecting with pride. I chuckle softly.

"Tell me about the mission Hitoshi." The coffee warms my gut, the warmth slowly spreading through my body like a tight embrace. He looks at me excitedly. He runs a tired hand through his purple hair as he steadies himself. This has always been one of his favorite stories to retell. He held the same excitement every time we spoke about it.

"There was this villain. He had this stupid idea to corrupt the city into turning on the heroes. They called him Legion. He would brainwash bystanders into attacking the heroes, often hiding in the shadows because he was a coward. We had been trailing him for a while. My partner at the time, his name was Denki, was with me. Denki was a funny guy, always goofing off to make me smile, but when it came to missions he was always serious. Probably the only time he truly acted serious." He pauses to laugh, taking another small sip of his coffee.