Erase Herゾごホ

傷跡 - scars

The Shouta I knew would lay in bed with his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around me for hours. He would stay in complete silence for as long as he possible could, absorbing every single moment of peace till he could no longer. Shouta was a man who appreciated nothingness and I appreciated that in him. Of course, while he laid in bed, entangled with his sheets, I normally would rest my head on his chest, completely enchanted by the way it rose and fall so gently along with his breaths. And while his mind would seem to be completely blank, my own would be flushed with thoughts of the messy raven haired man who's wardrobe consisted of two colors, as far as I knew.

But the Shouta that laid beside me now, was different. He stared at the ceiling for minutes at a time, before shifting his gaze to another focal point in the room. He was restless. And Shouta was never restless. The fact that one of his best students was kidnapped right underneath his nose, drove him insane. He wouldn't talk much about it, he didn't talk much actually since that night. He barely talked as it was, only really engaging in conversation when he was really passionate about something. But now, I could barely drag two words out of him. Even our sex had slowly come to a halt. I wasn't complaining, he was hurting and I wanted to ease that. But the days I wasn't in his house, he wouldn't text or call, he just seemed to isolate himself further and further with his self loathing and anger. I only came over today because I made too much soup (which is a lie I told him to save myself of the embarrassment from the fact I made it just for him), and demanded I stop by to give him some. Of course, he didn't protest, and he also didn't protest when I ended up on my knees doing things that are probably illegal in some countries. Which is how we ended up here, naked in his bed, passing the time til he had to leave for a mandatory press conference his work had set up. Neither one us speaking, neither one us sure of what to say.

"Shouta, you don't have to go. This is basically public humiliation." I grumbled, resting my chin on his chest as he sighed deeply, raising an eyebrow as he looked down at me. He lifted his hand, ruffling his fingers through my hair with a smirk.

"I'll be fine, (y/n)." He laughed half heartedly. I pouted at his words. Why is he putting on such a front with me? "Besides. I have to do this. The public demands someone be held accountable for the kidnapping of the child who won the sports festival." I pushed myself to my knees, still holding the covers over my naked body. Did he say Sports festival? Like the one my school holds? I blinked, wanting to ask more about what kind of school he actually teaches at, because I was starting to get a sneaking suspicion it was my school. "I should've been able to save him." Shouta whispered, making me revert my thoughts and shake my head.

"You can't save everyone.." I said, annoyance very apparent in my tone. Shouta's face flinched at my words. His smile dissipating as he turned over, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and turning his back to me.

"But a teacher should be able to protect their student." He whispered and my eyes widened. I could feel the darkness surrounding him. A darkness I had come to know all too well. A darkness I had wished someone would've pulled me from. I dove forward, my arms lacing around his torso as I pressed my face against his back. I shut my eyes as I spoke,

"You're the coolest hero I know, if you couldn't save him, no one could of." Shouta let out a gentle laugh at my comment, his long fingers wrapping around my hands. I smiled into his skin, meaning every word I said. If there was anything he could've done to save his student, I'm sure he would've done it, even if it meant his life, because that's the kind of man Shouta was. That is the kind of hero he was. I scooted closer to him, pushing to my knees, resting my chin on his shoulder as I buried my nose in the crook of his neck. I want to tell him how highly I think of him as a human being, as a hero. Coming from a girl who despised heroes, I still kind of do, but Eraserhead? He's given me faith in the career, maybe they aren't all as bad as my father. Maybe I can trust the world a little more than I did yesterday, because of Shouta.

"Where did you get these?" He asked, raising my hand up to his face, his touch run over the scars lacing around my fingers. I retracted away instinctively, falling back and wrapping the covers underneath my arms with a frown. Shouta, turned to look at me, confusion scattered across his face. I furrowed my eyebrows, remembering the day. Remembering everything I had been desperately trying to forget.

"They're scars from...I burned myself." I mumbled, pulling my fingers into my chest. Shouta tilted his head, obviously picking up on my withdrawal. He watched me carefully, unsure of what to say, or how to say it. Finally he sighed, pointing to the scar underneath his eye.

"I got this one from a Nomu." He explained, dragging the tip of his finger across the deep, dark imprint. "He smashed my head into the ground twice and broke both my arms." He said emotionless, tracing the back of his neck. I blinked, rubbing my eyes, listening to his story. "Annnnd this one, I got from a purse snatcher who surprised me." He pointed to a small cavernous scar that looked like it had already seen many years. "Oh, this one was the first scar I got on the job. Some punk held a grocery store at gunpoint and while tussling with him in the kitchen aisle, he managed to tear a knife off the shelf and nick me good." Shouta chuckled, my eyes softened, imaging a young Shouta struggling with something as common as a small time robbery. I glanced at my hands again uncomfortably, biting my lip. I don't think anyone has ever asked me where I got them from. My friends were always too loud and too happy to notice the darkness lurking inside me. They never asked too many hard hitting questions, and I liked it that way. But it's been years. Maybe talking about it something that can help.

"These are the burn marks I gave myself from trying to dig my mother out from the fire that killed her." I said softly, staring at the shades of dark red twirling around my index finger. Shouta didn't react, not that I expected him to. Man had the poker face of a world champion.

"So your mother died in a fire?" He asked, criss crossing his legs, with the sheets covering his bottom half, so his full body had turned to me. I frowned.

"Yeah. Worst house fire Japan had ever seen." I hesitated, sucking in air as I debated on telling him the full truth. I don't think I had ever said this out loud before. "It was started by me and my inability to control my quirk." This time, Shouta did react. Something I wasn't expecting. The tiniest, quietest gasp escaped his lip as his tired eyes widened. I shook my head with a smile. "Oh don't worry too much, it happened years ago. Besides don't you have that press conference in a bit." Please save me. Shouta thought about it for a moment, nodding silently without a word about my mother's death. I'm drowning, Shouta. I've been drowning for years. These burns being my last reminder of my mother. Do you think I want to remember her like this? To remember her screaming my name as I frantically dug my small hands into piles of rubble covered with fire? My fire? I thought they'd melt off honestly. I laid back down in Shouta's bed, curling into a ball as he rustled around his closet for the suit he had prepared. Why can't I remember my mother as sunny days to the park? Or lullabies and stories of princes and princesses? Why does it have to be like that? Why do I have to see that every time I close my eyes? Why? I watched him, slipping on clothes so smoothly, standing in front of the mirror as he tied his hair back with a sigh.

"Will you be here when I get back? It'll be awhile, there is something I have to do after the conference." He asked, walking back over to the edge of his bed. I hummed softly.

"If you want me to stay." I answered, sitting up on my knees, wrapping the covers around my shoulders. Shouta smiled gently, his hand reaching out and cupping my face.

"I enjoy coming home to you, (y/n)." He admitted, nonchalantly while my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my throat and down his. I leaned into his touch instinctively and he smiled. "I'll be back soon." He leaned down, kissing the top of my head before turning on his heel to leave.

"Shouta."

"Hm?"

"You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"It wasn't yours either, (y/n)."

And that was the first time anyone had ever told me that.