Before my heart gives out (My hero academia)

Who lives who dies

In the twilight, the fabric of the world felt muted in its hues, waiting patiently for the dawn. For it to ignite the earth in color, for all to see. In the darkness that bathed his room, Shinsou felt as though the air moved like cool water. Sluggish and smooth, slowing down reality, as if time itself was frozen. A sanctuary from the rest of the world.

The paper felt rough in his hand, wrinkled and stained with time. Nevertheless, his fingers ghosted against it reverently, holding it as if it was the most precious thing in existence. Slowly, leisurely, he deposited it into the drawer that lay open on the desk next to him.

With one last longing look, he closed the drawer. The soft thud of the wood, the only sound that pierced the air. Disrupting the silence that had settled like a blanket over him.

Looking ahead at the body-length mirror positioned in front of him, his reflection stares back at him mockingly. The suit he was wearing felt stifling and constricting, despite its comfortable size. With quivering fingers, he picks up the black tie that was draped over the mirror's stand.

His hands shake, fingers trembling relentlessly as he tries to gain some semblance of control over his limbs. Frustration coils inside of him, only serving to increase the unsteadiness he feels down to his core.

He feels as though he were trapped in a dream. A nightmare.

As if he's wading through thick layers of distorted reality. Despair and a deep, overwhelming sadness permeate the atmosphere around him. None of the layers stick to him though. He's disconnected from the waking realm, watching through a thinly drawn veil as the world crumbles down around him.

It feels wrong to be here. Unfair and devastating, to be alive, when he was not.

The quaking of his fingers increases, and he finds himself violently ripping the tie from his throat. The action knocks his elbow against the mirror. The structure wobbles but doesn't break. He finds himself wishing it had. Wishing he could watch it crack under the pressure, shattering into a million tiny pieces. Because then, he wouldn't be the only broken thing residing in the room.

With a swallowed sob, a cracking sound that barely escapes his throat, he falls to the ground. Knees hitting the hardwood floor painfully. His hand snakes in his hair, digging into his scalp. The pain serves to ground him. An anchor of sorts. Distracting him from the storm of emotion that brewed within him.

Because anything is better than this overwhelming sense of loss. An emptiness he feels contracting and expanding deep within his chest. Into his very heart.

Low light floods the room as a figure steps in. Without looking up, Shinsou already knows who it is. It doesn't stop him from flinching as tentative fingers slowly unravel his hands from their tight grip on his hair. Calloused fingers warm against his skin. Aizawa holds them with a gentleness he never expected from the man. As if the teen before him was made of delicate, fragile porcelain. At risk of breaking at any given moment.

No words are exchanged between them. There is no need for it. Aizawa crouches in front of him, his hand coming up to wrap around him. Shinsou can do nothing but let the silent tears he's been holding back trickle down his face. He lets go. Because soon, he will have to pull himself up. Glue the damaged pieces like a child's broken toy. Stick them back together long enough to get through the day.

In the dark, through bloodshot eyes, he lets his gaze settle on his teacher. The man looks like he's aged ten years, dark circles drill into his face, making him look incredibly exhausted, more so than usual.

His eyes speak of the same sorrow that Shinsou feels scorching in his heart. Ripping at the seams of his very being.

Wordlessly, the man picks up the tie that now lay discarded on the floor. The process of wrapping it around Shinsou's neck is methodical, slow, and prolonged. They're both stalling, wanting to hold onto the moment before it slips away. Before reality inevitably sets in.