Aizawa groaned as he woke up once again, fluttering his tired eyes to an empty classroom. He looked to his right, where the windows were placed to gaze at the sun. 

Although still quite high, in a few hours or so, the sun would begin setting, he concluded as he examined the sun's position. Most likely between two or three PM, when school ended. Fiddling with the zipper of his sleeping bag, he zipped open it, bending his legs inward, then folding them outwards, allowing his legs to escape the confined yet cozy compartment. Taking both sides of the zipper, he pressed against them to their outside, making the top of the sleeping bag to lift over his head due to the stretching and fall off of his shoulders. Sitting up, he collected and miniaturized the bag back into the small bundle of fabrics it once were, he ran a hand through his uncombed and knotted hair. His fingertips gently tugged and unworked the small knots as he allowed his thoughts to sink in.

Thank God it was Friday. 

Being in a weekend, this gave Aizawa more than enough time to recollect his shit together that was caused by the mess of what untangling and reliving the past had made him; along with the masked villain he still couldn't understand why he was so intent on. What he did know was that it was fucking his sleeping schedule, his mental health, and his usual demeanor around everyone. Hizashi and Nemuri, the boldest people he's met, were even scared to approach him. It was rare for anything to upset Aizawa more than how already he feels with just living, but when he was upset, that came with more mood swings and tired and angry fits for no apparent reason. 

Either way, how he was now wasn't helping him, as he was still in this slounch, that he didn't know how to get out of. Of course, he could always ask someone but this was the reclusive and mysterious Eraserhead asking for help. It was just one's imaginary for such a thing to happen. He was a capable man, he neither would need or allow any assistance to guide him, after all this was his issue, nobody needed to be bothered with him. 

That was just how it always is.   

Nobody ever tried to dig deep enough into his tough, hard, and metal core. He didn't know anyone who would have tried to burrow deep into his wretched and shattered heart that had failed to fix and place back the pieces. Someone who could barge through the barriers despite the dangers and consequences that came with, he never had met that person. The one person who's seen him at his worst. 

Or at least that person didn't exist anymore. 

He had no person to lean on when he needed to weep or cry, no one to comfort him at the time when he needed a gentle embrace, not one ounce of sympathy or empathy was spared for him ever since Y/N left. Not one cent was left aside for him and not one glance was ever gazed back at him. He was fine, everybody believed that, including himself. Everybody believed that lie. 

That was how it always was. 

That was right, nobody ever bothered with him. And that was the sad truth to the Eraserhead, the cold and aloof underground pro-hero, he was utterly alone as a solo hero who didn't trust anybody. He had no one to care, no one to hold him, no one to go home to. 

It was coming back to him that was the future and dreams he had when he fell for Y/N. 

The loneliness kicked in as it made his heart clenched painfully to it. He was alone, with no one that could help him see the light at the end of the tunnel, and no one to love him like nobody else. He felt worthless and unwanted, like another wasn't wanted as anyone's, he needed someone to tell him he was worth something and that he deserved to be here. He looked at his hands, imaging what it would be like to have someone hold his scared, dry, and rough hands. Would it be like a gentle hand like of Y/N's, where her warmth coursed through his entire body, or would it be something else? 

He was lonely, and had no one to care. No one cared, and that was the sad truth of it all. Would anybody know if he dropped off the face of the planet? Would anybody realize he disappeared or isn't somewhere where he should be? Would they wonder 'Where the hell did Eraser go?' or would they move on with the rest of their lives like what people always do. Would they care at all?

A bitter poison coated his heart. No one cared for him at all, not one bit. Not a single person on this fucking earth cared, and that is what it is. Who the fuck would care about a man who looked like a hobo everyday? He might as well. He was a sleep deprived, moody, no-for-good teacher, hero, friend, etc. All he was was what he felt like; shit to be frank. He was no one, just another sad fucker God had the misfortune of creating. 

He was another mistake. That was it. Nobody could bother with him. His fists tightened as he felt the same bubbled anger and frustration from all those years ago begin to show up once again, like they were hidden underneath his skin all this time, waiting for the right time to overpower and overwhelm him. He should have known this, no he did know, he just denied for far too long. It was the truth nonetheless, a truth he tried ignoring by covering it up with lies and excuses but after fifteen long awaited years, the lies have been discarded and coded turned to something more sinister and harmful then the actual lie itself. 

Yet... 

It hurted to know. 

Aizawa bit his lip, as more feelings of unwantedness and worthlessness continued to drown him. He tried to swim up, to overcome and be on top, but they continued to bury him in his grave, and he didn't know how to escape. It clawed and choked him, as he tried to free himself from its lethal and self-detrimental grip, but his futile attempts are in vain, as he plummets down to a hole deeper than what he could imagine of getting out, falling and falling to his own pitiful fate, become a disheveled and emotional mess, nearly crying into his hands as tears threaten to fall. His phone buzzed next to him, snapping him out of his trance, as he read the text notification. 

Loud Ass
Hey, wanna go training this week?

Training? Training could keep him distracted for a few hours. It was just what he needed anyways, if this continued, who knows what his thoughts would be leading him to. Probably to his death if he wasn't careful. Training with Hizashi though? He felt as if that would only annoy him rather than distract him. The last time he trained with the blonde, they were kicked out because he was using his quirk too much. 

Tired Caterpillar
Sorry, I'm training by myself this week.

Loud Ass
Alright, that's cool! Let's doooo next week, how about that?

Tired Caterpillar
No.

Turning off his phone, he let out another shaky and exhausted sigh, as he wiped away his tears with his sleeves, in relief that his clothes were black so that the water stains weren't visible. He also wiped the snot that had managed to escape his nose, exhaling in disgust and walking to the bathroom to wash his hands from preventing any germs. 

He was so sick of crying and balling like a little child, yet that was his only response and solution he could think of. No matter what, he was still in denial of Y/N's absence, and he couldn't seem to be at peace with it no matter how hard he tried. It was affecting his mental state drastically, making him lose focus of anything he was doing because all he could think about was the guilt and the sorrow that harboured over his chest, making his world almost unbearable to live in. He wished he could have accepted it like Hizashi and Nemuri but they don't know, and he knew it was his guilt that was causing this. 

Perhaps that Hizashi was right.

Y/N was holding him back. Y/N was distracting him from his actual work, like an annoying leech just desperate to get attention and grab his focus. The thought of Y/N was holding him back from just living his life, and he knew it. He should have buried, no- he could have buried it that day he lost her, but he didn't have- he wasn't strong enough to, he was weak and couldn't have brought her peace, as now he couldn't just be okay with it. Even now, he wasn't okay with Y/N leaving him here, but it had never bothered him now. 

So the often-questioned phrase popped up again. 'Why?'

The students would be gone for a week. He had nothing to do for a whole week. Although going on patrol more frequently and napping for most of the day was his usual go-to, the thought of the masked villain tied with Y/N made him restless and he knew he couldn't get much sleep if he kept dreaming of his former lover. Training kept him productive and helped him improve his combat skills, his physical skills and limits, and also boosted his morale quite a bit. 

His local gym was a small and not well known one, just only making it better for him. It had all the equipment he used, not many people could see him, or better yet, bother him. 

Gathering the things he needed to get home, he packed them together, before driving home to change his outfit. He wasn't afraid that he would get recognized as a hero, no one ever did, rather, they weren't the most suitable clothes for training. Wearing a white tank top that did no covering of his toned muscles underneath, and loose black shorts, he dropped off his things at home, before walking to the gym, which was just a few blocks away.

Despite calling it a gym, it was more like a dojo. There were few that actually took the martial arts lessons, and from what he could see, they were quite skilled in teaching quality martial arts. He grabbed a towel, as well as a water bottle filled with cold water. 

Arriving at the dojo, it was normal to see that no one was there. The gym equipment it provided was free to use, as long as you were trusted or you were part of the lessons. Before he made his debut, the manager and the rest of the staff knew him, as he used to visit everyday, and before long they knew he was a hero-in-training. Despite not coming often due to teaching, they still knew him and allowed free access to the location, and he was quite grateful. Some of the staff, when they had free time or no lessons currently, would train with him on occasion.

"Hey Eraser. Good to see you back after a while," Isao greeted from the front entrance at the receptionist desk. 

"Sorry, teaching has got me caught up. You'll see me a lot more often this week though," he replied, taking off his shoes and setting foot on the wooden floor. 

"Alright. The gym is empty, per usual." 

He nodded, before walking down a hallway and turning to a room in the right. Doing a couple stretches, he scheduled that he would do bench lifting first, but seeing the punching bag in a nearby corner made him decide against that. He clenched his fist as the idea of hitting someone soon came to the thought of the masked villain. 

He needed to be stronger, quicker, adapt faster. Gritting his teeth, he let go of his rage on the punching bag, striving himself to keep going, harder and faster, improving himself rather than anything. 

This was just the distraction he needed.