Erase Herゾごホ

秋 - the fall of eraserhead

The world is bleak without you.

Colors are nothing but dark grayish hues, and no matter how many times I burn my tongue on my favorite cup of coffee, I'm never met with the idle taste of sweet cinnamon any longer.

Everything has lost feeling.

And nobody knows how much pain I'm in.

"Sho, have you eaten? You look pale."

My heart skipped a beat at the sound of the nickname she used to call me, my mind playing nasty tricks on me as a cruel looping track of her voice played in my ears.

I always hated when people called me that, it just seemed so disrespectful and unusual to me. My name has five letters, not three, and I'm not to be renamed by just anyone. I'm not anyone's property. I'm my own person.

But I didn't quite mind being hers.

She was so much more than just anyone, wasn't she?

"Here. I brought your favorite." A cup of coffee and a bland pastry bag was placed at my desk. "Coffee, black and the croissant with butter, just how you like it."

When was the last time I ordered something like this?

Ah, I remember.

It was months ago when she dragged me to her favorite coffee spot. A wonderfully isolated little hole in the wall that suited both our tastes just perfectly. Once I ordered though, she was absolutely disgusted by my likeness to bitter and basic things.

To safe things.

She encouraged me...no, she forced me to try something different and out of the box. Something like cinnamon tinted coffee and a gingerbread cookie, even if gingerbread was out of season.

So from that day forward, my morning coffee never lacked cinnamon and my daily breakfast tasted like Christmas everyday.

"No thank you, Yamada." I mumbled politely, pushing the food and the beverage away from me as I reverted my attention back to the computer screen in front of me. I could feel his gaze on me as I numbly clicked through my classes files, not really doing anything, but too terrified to do absolutely nothing.

Because if I stop, I will break.

If I stop playing the role I had given myself, the role of Shota Aizawa; Pro Hero and Teacher, and let me fall into my true self? If I slip into who I really am, Shota Aizawa broken and grieving boyfriend, I will most certainly shatter.

And I can't break.

People like me, we don't get to break. We don't get to the luxury of grieving, the lavishness to be sad.

Because I'm a hero. And people need me to be strong.

"Sho, you really don't look too good." Yamada persisted, nudging the coffee back towards my hand as I clicked away a bit harder on my mouse, "Why don't you take a break?"

Sho. There's that stupid nickname again.

Every time he says it, every time those three letters leave his lips, I punish myself by replaying hours and months of memories of her. Smiling and laughing as she called for me using those damned three letters. I punish myself by remembering how soft she felt, how warm she was to my touch, and how much I loved her.