Irrationality (Aizawa x reader)

Chapter Eighteen

With a flick of his wrist, Shota tossed his keys in the direction of the counter, not bothering to check where they had landed. He sunk into the nearest chair, sighing. Everything seemed to ache. God, he wanted nothing more than to just fall into bed.

The thing was, he really didn't want to get up.

Not that he was comfortable or anything, in fact his body protested against him staying in the chair for much longer. Recently, he had been spending his nights on his couch or somewhere in his sleeping bag. It was... easier to sleep that way, even if it made his body ache.

Nowadays, he was more susceptible to becoming irritable at the smallest inconveniences. Hizashi had pointed out that he was especially snappy in the mornings.

Why not just sleep in his bed? That's what it was made for after all.

Oh, how he had tired.

Initially, he hadn't had much trouble falling asleep in his bed; he had slept quite soundly, actually. However, after a certain incident, he had begun to notice how bare the bed felt, how his sheets and blankets had smelled faintly of her...

Washing the bedding managed to get rid of the smell, sure, but still, it failed to change the void that seemed to plague relentlessly.

He was pathetic.

For Christ's (or Pete's) sake, he couldn't even sleep in his own bed because it reminded him too much of her!

Why was it so difficult? He had managed to sleep in a bed without someone else for most of his life, so how come he was suddenly incapable of doing do now?

A pro hero doesn't have the time to sit around and wallow in self pity. Especially over a relationship, of all things.

Besides, he was already over it.

Pushing himself up with a new resolve, he made his way through his evening routine, preparing for bed. Without faltering, he finally laid down on the soft bed.

Not much time had passed before he became uncomfortable. Shifting around, he tried to reduce the growing sense of unease building up inside of him. He tossed and turned until he found himself unable to deal with it anymore.

This isn't right.

Practically lurching, he snagged his cellphone from his nightstand, hurriedly typing in a number he had memorized long ago. She won't answer, and he'll feel silly that he even bothered trying again. He was a fool-

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" her voice croaked through the phone.

Shota froze, his heart skipping a beat. She... she answered... Weeks and weeks of nothing, not even reading his messages, and now (Y/n) was on the other side of the phone. It had been so long since he had heard her voice... He had missed it, a lot.

Overwhelmed, he could barely muster out, 'S-sorry."

"It's alright. I have to get up," she yawned, "in thirty minutes anyways... What are you doing up this late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Oh, why not?"

"I-" miss you... "I'm just stressed out."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it's fine."

"You sure? It's not good for you to bottle in your emotions."

He blinked a few times. Those words struck a chord in him. "Oh is it now."

"Ironic coming from me, huh?" she laughed.