A/N: I'm alive! And I now have a Discord!! Please join us! Here's the link: https://discord.gg/GYZWtSY

So,  apparently one of my coworkers came into contact with someone who has  Covid. So now we're all getting tested. Oof. I also may or may not have a  few days off this week, so keep an eye out for updates and new  stories!! :D

Fanart for any/all stories can be sent to [email protected]

I  also have a P.O. box, now. :) Feel free to send me letters or whatever.  Send 'em to Katharine Perkins 40960 California Oaks Rd #347 Murrieta, CA,  92562, USA.

Without further ado, here's the new story!

~~~

It was normal—part of their usual routine. Shouta was always working late into the night, so Hizashi took control of dinner arrangements. He cooked so Shouta had one less thing to worry about when he got home. The blond smiled softly to himself as he set the table.

It was his favorite part of the day. Any time spent with his husband was his favorite part of the day, if he was being entirely honest. He put the finishing touches on dinner as he glanced at the clock. Shou would be home anytime, now.

He smiled as he dished out the food onto plates and checked his phone. Normally, Shouta would send him a message to let him know he was on his way home, but there were no new notifications. The blond's brows furrowed, but he wasn't overly concerned.

As a hero, sometimes things just came up. Maybe he ran into another runaway kid that he had to escort home or something?

Cockatoo: Hey, Shou. Something holdin you up? Dinner's ready~ waiting for you at home. Love ya!

He slipped his phone back into his pocket as he covered the dishes with saran wrap. No need to waste anything when they could pop it back into the microwave. But he hoped Shouta would hurry up, because he was hungry.

He felt his phone vibrate with a phone call, and slipped it back out. That.... Wasn't Shouta's number.

"Hello?" He greeted, ignoring the pit that had started to form in his stomach.

"Is this... Yamada Hizashi?" He didn't recognize the voice.

"This is he... who am I talking to?"

"Your husband, Aizawa Shouta, was admitted to Musutafu General hospital just a few hours ago in critical condition."

His heart leapt into his throat and he felt his mouth go dry. "W-wha?!? Is he okay?! Hold on!! I'm on my way!" He hastily tossed on a dark red jacket and grabbed his car keys, praying to any deity that existed that Shouta would be okay. He swung the front door open and stepped out, closing it behind him with a hasty slam.

"I'm sorry, sir... your husband died in surgery just a few minutes ago."

He froze in his actions. The phone nearly slipped from his suddenly numb fingers as his knees gave out on him. "W-what? No... you... you can't be serious..." his own voice sounded far away and he was barely able to decipher the garbled response of the woman on the other end.

"...need you to come identify the body..."

Identify the body. It was something that people often did in his line of work, but the last body he had to identify had been Shirakumo.

Now it was Shouta.

Shouta, who'd been there for him throughout his U.A. schooling.

Shouta, who he'd convinced to accept a teaching position at U.A.

Shouta, who he'd proposed to, and gotten married to as Nemuri happily snapped pictures at the wedding.

His best friend. His husband. The man was going to spend the rest of his life with.

Surely, they had to be mistaken! Maybe it was someone else who'd died, and he'd get to the hospital and tell them that no, it wasn't Shouta, and they'd just have to figure out who had really died.

He desperately clung to that hope as he drove to the hospital.

Hizashi didn't remember when they'd led him over to the table. He hadn't even remembered arriving at the hospital. But all hope left him when they showed him Shouta. Because that was him.

Hizashi reached out with a pale shaky hand as he cupped the far-too-cold cheek. He felt the familiar stubble under his thumb. He knew this face, bruised and battered though it was. But it suddenly felt so different, now. Too still... too cold.

He noticed a tear fall from the corner of Shouta's eye, and hope flared up like an ugly flame before he realized it was his own tears that'd fallen upon Shouta's face.

Hizashi was crying. Not that anyone could blame him.

He was led out far too soon, and given a shock blanket. He didn't want a fucking blanket. He wanted his husband. He didn't know how long he stayed there, but he realized—however distantly—that he shouldn't be alone.

He didn't realize who he'd called until the person on the other end picked up.

"Hizashi? What's up, it's pretty late." Nemuri's tone was light and airy. She had no idea, and Hizashi swallowed thickly when the only sound he could produce was a mixture of a sob and a croak.

"Hizashi?" Nemuri's tone was sharper, now. She was worried. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong? Everything was wrong. Time wasn't moving right, and the comforting dark warmth of... of... He was gone. "N-Nem-uri." Her name was broken by a sob.

"Where are you? I'll be right there."

"H-Hospital. I just..." He sniffled, cursing the way his voice cracked—something that very rarely happened due to his Quirk. But this time, he didn't even feel the pain.

Nemuri stayed on the line, but he couldn't process what she was saying anymore. Her tone grew more and more concerned until she was literally kneeling in front of him with a fiercely concerned gaze and gently wiping away the river of tears that flowed down his face.

"Hizashi?" She questioned quietly. There was still that shine of concern and worry and the blond realized she still didn't know.

"I... Nemuri..." He clung to her, suddenly. Held on like she was the only person left in the world—which was somewhat true, now. "He...! He's gone!" He let out an ugly sob that may have been a tad too loud, but he didn't care. Nothing really mattered now, anyways.

"Who's gone?" She was confused. Why was she confused? Wasn't it obvious? The way the world was so dull and wrong? How could she not have noticed?

"N-Nem... Shou..." His voice cracked again. His grief tripled just by saying his name. "He's dead." He felt his heart break in his chest like glass.

Nemuri stilled under his hands as she processed this. "W-what?!" She paled and tears flowed down her own cheeks. "How?"

Hizashi jolted a bit as he realized he didn't know. He'd been so distraught that he hadn't even bothered to ask how his own husband had... died.

"A villain attack."

Hizashi's head whipped up at the strangely crisp yet heavy voice that cut through the waves of mental fog. It was the detective that Shouta always worked with. Tsukauchi, if he remembered correctly. The man had bloodshot eyes, likely from crying, and he wasn't wearing his hat for once. He looked like he'd rushed over.

"The villain was on trigger. He died protecting some nearby children—nobody else was seriously injured or killed." He looked like he wanted to say something—likely an apology of some sort—but swallowed it back.

Good, because if he said that stupid 'I'm sorry for your loss' phrase that he'd heard far too many times at Shirakumo's death, then he was going to punch the detective—friend or not.

"Come on, Zashi..." Hizashi flinched at Nemuri's use of that nickname. That was Shouta's nickname for him. Nobody else could use that.

At least Nemuri seemed to understand. "Sorry." She apologized. "We should get you home."

Home? What home? It wasn't home without Shouta. Why couldn't anyone understand that?

But before he realized it, he was standing before his front door as Nemuri shuffled awkwardly. "Thanks for coming, Nem." He said. The words sounded hollow to his own ears, but the other hero didn't seem to mind.

"I'll come by to check up on you day after tomorrow, kay? Figured you'd want a day to yourself."

"...yeah, thanks." He didn't want a day to himself. But he didn't think he could stand being around people right now, either. In all honesty, he didn't know what he wanted.

He wanted Shouta.

He stepped into the house and locked the door behind him on reflex. His feet brought him over to the kitchen table, and he stared, uncomprehendingly, at the dinner he'd made just a few hours ago. Saran wrapped and set for two.

Food he'd made for Shouta.

Food that Shouta would never see, because he was dead.

Hizashi sat alone on the couch and cried.

Linechanhere!Iknowit'sbeenawhile,soIhopeyou'reallstayingsafe!Weloveyou!!

He didn't want to do this. Hizashi was still reeling from Shouta's death. It'd only been two days, and the only people who knew were himself, Nemuri, and Tsukauchi. He... he wanted to be the one to inform the other teachers. It was only right, after all.

Even still, he knew he looked like hell. He'd texted Nezu ahead of time to let him know that both their classes would need coverage for a bit. He was fairly sure that the principal knew, already—he always seemed to know when things happened.

He hesitated in front of the meeting room doors of U.A. He could hear the others talking rather jovially as they speculated why they were called together. He clenched his fist around Shouta's ring. The wedding band was his way of reminding himself of the gravity of this situation. Of the truth.

He pushed open the door. The chatter quieted as they took in his form. He was thin and pale. His hair was down and lacked its usual luster. He had this exhausted air around him, and his eyes were bloodshot behind his civilian glasses. He was dressed in one of Shouta's hoodies—something he put on for comfort—and a pair of sweatpants.

In all, he looked like hell. The moment the other staff members saw him, they knew something was wrong.

"Mic? You look..." Cementoss trailed off.

"Like shit." Snipe eloquently finished.

"I feel worse." He responded after a moment before taking his seat. He was painfully aware of the empty one to his right. Shouta's never going to sit there again.

Nezu handed him a cup of tea, and he knew that the principal knew. He nodded his thanks and held the cup in his hands, unable to stomach the thought of consuming more than water.

"Well, let's get this started, then." Nezu spoke softly. "Yamada, you said you had some news?"

"Wait, shouldn't we wait for Aizawa-senpai?" Thirteen asked innocently. The question should've been normal, but it made Nemuri gasp out a surprised sob, surprising the others.

Hizashi felt a few tears run down his face.

"Sho—" He cut himself off to bite back a sob. "Shouta... won't be coming back." He curled in on himself a bit as more tears ran down his face. "He... he d-died two days ago in a villain attack."

The room was still for a long moment, as nobody dared breathe. "He... what?" Vlad gasped.

"Aizawa is... dead?" Cementoss echoed numbly.

"My god..." Thirteen sounded heartbroken.

"How are you holding up?" Recovery Girl asked Hizashi with a gentle tone.

"How do you think?" He snapped. He instantly felt bad. She was only asking how he was. He shouldn't be so angry about it. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she smiled sadly and pulled him into a hug instead. "He's gone. I... Just like that." He whispered, but the room could still hear. "I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. He was... The hospital called me to identify the body." He choked out, earning winces from the room. "I never even got to be there, I..."

Hizashi bit back another sob.

"I just want to go home." He admitted in a broken whisper.

Linekunhere.GuessImissedyouguys.Whatever.

Nezu ended up giving him two weeks off to grieve. The sentiment was appreciated, but Hizashi really would've appreciated the distraction of work. He could understand, though. He wasn't in any condition to teach right now.

The funeral had been six days ago. Hizashi couldn't bring himself to visit Shouta's grave. It was too solid—too real. Sometimes, he could still delude himself into believing that Shouta would come home, just like he always did.

Some days, he could still hear his husband's low soothing voice carry throughout their home.

He smiled softly as he put the finishing touches on dinner. He set the table and checked the time. He chuckled softly to himself as the radio played and he heard the door open.

"Dinner's ready." Hizashi announced.

"Good, I'm starving. Patrol was a nightmare." Shouta's voice held a smile.

Hizashi looked up, ready to greet his husband when he saw closed front door. There was nobody there. He felt his heart break. He'd forgotten...

He finally understood Shouta's story about hearing Shirakumo after he'd died. Hizashi certainly heard Shouta's voice often enough, even though he knew he wasn't really there. Would never be there again.

He glanced at the table. Set for two.

He sighed and pulled out his phone. "Hey, Nem. Wanna come over for dinner? I... made too much again."

"Sure thing. I'll be right there." She said. Hizashi moved the plate. Nemuri was like a sister to him, but even she wasn't allowed to sit in Shouta's spot.

Unfortunately, this was a far too common occurrence—him making too much food. He felt like he was slowly losing his mind. Everything was off-kilter and wrong, no matter how he tried to move on.

Nothing seemed to work. He knew that it'd get better with time, but God, he felt like he was dying a little more every day. Some mornings he couldn't even convince himself to get out of bed, and he was slowly picking up Shouta's showering habits—or lack thereof.

"When was the last time I took a shower?" He questioned aloud, only to be met with a small meow from one of their three cats. When the door opened, all three cats' heads poked out from their hiding holes. Bastard even ran out towards the door, only to stop short upon seeing Nemuri.

The black cat glared balefully at the woman before watching her close the door. Even the cats were waiting for Shouta to come home. It somehow broke Hizashi's heart a little more.

"Hope you don't mind... I didn't have time to change." She gestured to her hero outfit.

"Nah, you're good, Nem." He gave her a tired smile.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and Hizashi mentally kicked himself for making Shouta's favorite food. It made the food taste like ash in his mouth as he forced himself to eat.

Nemuri lingered for a bit, but eventually left. Hizashi felt like the house was too big. There were too many lingering memories of better times. They haunted him, stabbing his heart with echoes of laughter and quiet humming. Sometimes he swore he caught sight of black hair from the corner of his eye, but whenever he turned there was never anyone there.

He quickly grabbed a green jacket—not the red one; never the red one after that night—and headed out the door. The night was brisk and cool as the full moon shone down upon him. He shivered a little and pulled his jacket closer. He hadn't been paying attention to where his feet were taking him until he stood before the cemetery.

Hero's Crest Cemetery was written across the gateway in large flowing letters. It was the resting place for many heroes, and Shouta would probably scoff at the idea of this being his resting place. He'd likely want to be in the civilian cemetery, but Hizashi wouldn't hear it. His husband was a damn hero, and he wouldn't let anyone say otherwise.

He took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold. He wondered the beautiful garden and winding cobblestone pathways before coming across the quiet plot that sat beneath an old willow tree. The branches hung low, obscuring the area like a quiet bubble apart from the world.

Hizashi carefully brushed the branches aside and entered the quiet hollow. There was only a single grave there, the headstone a gorgeous mixture of onyx, ebony, and a few darker crystals. They'd had a friend with a Quirk who could mix compounds together like that. He'd agreed to Hizashi's request when he'd heard the news.

Aizawa-Yamada Shouta

Hero Name: Eraserhead

­November 8, 2398 – June 28, 2422

A loving husband and a brave Hero. May he always be remembered.

A stone cat with feathered wings sat atop his headstone. Hizashi knew that when he died, he'd take the plot beside Shouta, and the cockatoo would sit beside the cat atop his own.

He stopped just before the grave. His hand hesitantly outstretched to touch the cool stone, but he couldn't bring himself to make contact.

"Shou... why? Why did it come to this?" He sobbed as quietly as he could. It was about 2 in the morning, now. Nobody would be around, but he didn't want to accidentally use his Quirk.

He jolted slightly when a meow sounded from beside the grave. A black cat with white markings around his neck sat there, eerie yellow eyes staring into Hizashi like he could see his soul. The cat looked a lot like how he imagined Shouta would look if he'd been turned into a cat. They even had the same deadpan expression.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked quietly. The cat meowed and pawed at Shouta's grave.

He didn't know why, but he suddenly had the oddest urge to touch the gravestone. Was this cat some kind of Quirk?

He brushed away the thought in the back of his mind that said it could be Shouta's ghost come back to haunt him.

Hizashi internally sighed, but decided to listen to the cat. He reached out and touched the stone.

It was cool, but something was wrong. He tried to pull his hand away, but it was stuck. The stone started to heat up, the date of Shouta's death glowing like a beacon in the night.

June 28, 2422

The stone was unbearably hot, now, and the cat was nowhere to be seen. He tried to pull his hand away with more force, but nothing worked.

Suddenly, he slipped on something and fell, arm bending awkwardly as his head clipped the corner of the stone.

And Hizashi knew no more.

Linechanhere!Author-chanisthinkingofmakingastoryforjustus!What'dyathink?Shouldshe?

Hizashi jolted. His head spun with the familiar ache of a concussion, and his arm was screaming in pain—mostly his wrist. Judging by the pain, he'd say his wrist was broken, and his arm was sprained.

"Stupid fucking cat." He grumbled as he blinked several times from his position on the ground.

"You okay, Zashi?" The voice was familiar, but what ticked him off was that they'd used Shouta's nickname for him. Hadn't he made it clear that nobody could use that?! Apparently not.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Killer concussion or whatever, but I'm good." He hissed as he brought his uninjured hand up to his head.

"I'm sorry... my Quirk's effects should wear off soon." A younger voice stated. They sounded apologetic. Was... that a kid? What was a kid doing in a cemetery? At two in the morning?

He blinked when he realized he was not in the cemetery anymore, and wasn't it a full moon tonight? Why was it a crescent? "How long was I knocked out for?"

"A few minutes." The other voice answered. Hizashi turned to see who it was, but his breath caught in his throat.

Suddenly, his concussion wasn't anything but a minor annoyance and he hardly felt his wrist. Nothing mattered and time stopped because Shouta was sitting beside him, looking at him with open concern.

"Zashi? What's wrong, you look like you've seen a ghost."

"S-shou?" He whispered, tears spilling from his eyes as he hesitantly reached up a hand to cup the warm face. It was solid and warm and alive and GOD, he could feel the man's heartbeat from here.

Shouta took a very deep breath and turned to the kid. "What is your Quirk?"

They looked to be sitting in an alleyway of some kind.

"I–I'm sorry! It was an accident. The effects should wear off shortly. I'm so sorry!"

Hizashi decided to shove just about everything to the back of his mind right now. "What's going on? I'm a little lost, here."

"You don't remember?" Shouta blinked in surprise.

"Nooo?"

"You were on patrol with me tonight, and we happened across this kid who was running away from some thugs." Shouta started, and Hizashi's mind filled in the gaps on its own.

"That's right..." He was starting to remember. "I took the kid to safety while you took out the thugs. But he got scared and accidentally activated his Quirk."

"Yeah, I came back to find you knocked out and the kid in tears." Shouta nodded.

"I... My Quirk lets someone else glimpse into the near future." The kid stated.

Hizashi felt his stomach drop and his heart skip more than a few beats. "You mean... what I saw... was the future?" His voice trembled and Shouta shot him another concerned look.

"Yeah. Something within the next few months. Normally, it's nothing big—maybe meeting someone, or a normal day or something. Some people only get a glimpse of the stock markets or whatever. But I was really scared, and... might've overpowered it a bit. I'm sorry."

Hizashi leaned back against the brick wall. The pain in his wrist was fading, and he realized it was never truly injured to begin with. He blinked at the sky as he processed this.

"Zashi?" Shouta asked gently, worried.

"June 28, 2422." Hizashi repeated to himself. Now that his memories of the present were settling, the information from the future—while still painful—weren't as overwhelming.

Shouta was here. He was alive. And Hizashi was going to make sure it would stay that way.

"June 28, 2422." He reaffirmed to himself, ignoring the way Shouta eyed him in growing concern. "I'll change that future."

I promise.