Sight for Sore Eyes

It had been four days and two hours since he'd had a restful night's rest.

Coincidentally, it had also been four days and two hours since he'd heard of the attack on USJ and come running faster than he ever had in his life. But then, how was he supposed to be able to sleep after seeing Shota so utterly destroyed? The sight of his broken and bleeding body had been ingrained into his memory since that day, and the images haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

Although, even if an injured Shota didn't greet him when he tried to sleep, Hizashi doubted he would be able to still. He was in charge of taking care of him, after all. That had been the condition to getting him out of the hospital, which Shota had desperately wanted, even if he never said it aloud. Hizashi knew how much he did not like being there, even when Recovery Girl was the one dealing with him. He didn't enjoy being in those sterile environments longer than strictly necessary. Shota had hangups about being what he perceived was a burden on other people, and he believed people should suffer their injuries and not rely to heavily on others to fix them, so he didn't like making Recovery Girl use her quirk more often than she had to.

For reasons only known to her, Recovery Girl had allowed the release, but only on the condition that he promised to not leave Shota alone for more than a few minutes at a time. She'd been adamant that idle hands were the Devil's playthings- Shota's hands especially, even when he couldn't use them. Apparently she believed he'd still strain himself trying to do more than he should while healing if left to his own devices. Hizashi readily agreed with that assessment. If he knew anything about Shota -and he knew quite a bit- he would not be able to stand doing nothing while he healed for very long. He always tried to push himself into getting better faster, and Hizashi didn't think he would ever be able to convince him that the process didn't work that way. He'd been trying since they were kids, but there were some things nobody could get through Shota's thick skull, and Recovery Girl had gathered that.

Of course, her intuition when it came to patients was right on the mark. They'll only been home since that morning, and when the silence in the apartment was broken by Shota's muffled voice announcing that he still had papers from before the USJ incident that still needed to be graded, Hizashi wondered how long he'd been sitting on that for when he grew too bored to stand. At least he wasn't trying to do anything on his own. Still, he couldn't stop the heavy sigh that dragged out his throat when he got up from the couch. He would do anything to keep Shota as comfortable as possible, yes, but he was tired, and he had no idea where those papers were. Or even if they were in the apartment. He'd grabbed plenty of Shota's things before bringing him to his place, but homework hadn't exactly been at the top of his list of important necessities.

As if sensing the latter thought, Shota informed him that they were in his bag. He'd asked Hizashi to grab it when he'd been packing up spare clothes, and now he was certain Shota had been biding his time to grade them. He grabbed them from where he'd left the bag on the coffee table and proceeded to sit on the floor beside the armchair Shota was in. His joints protested the movements and Hizashi bit down another sigh. When all Shota could do was hear him, he didn't want to make him think he was being put upon by helping him. He wasn't. He was just… really tired. And worried. But, Hizashi knew whatever he felt probably couldn't compare to how Shota felt, so he sucked it up and kept going. If there was anything he could do for him to alleviate some of the pain the medication couldn't completely block out, and the stress he felt at being cooped up in his home and more-or-less confined to a chair or bed, then he would do it.

And the grading turned out to be a nice remedy for the both of them for that, it turned out. He would read Shota the answers each student gave and he would mull it over before having him mark it as right or wrong. They set a nice pace that way, and the reprieve from the "not normal" routine they'd found themselves trapped in was welcome, too. It gave Hizashi something to occupy and wake up his brain, and whatever Shota got out of it seemed to be working some of the tension out of his voice. Unfortunately, it didn't last long.

An alarm on his phone went off and Hizashi startled just as hard as Shota. Okay… maybe less than Shota, but he tried to make the comparison similar so that he didn't feel so bad for scaring his husband.

"Sorry!" He yelped. He wished he could see Shota's face, even for a few seconds, just so he could know the kind of expression he wore. Hizashi got the feeling it was something like stony impassiveness, the mask he shoved on when he was embarrassed, but he wasn't sure and that fact did little to soothe his own nerves.

He cracked his back as he stood up before resetting the alarm for a few hours out. Recovery Girl had told him that morning that Shota's bandages would need changing around dinner time, and then again before bed. He'd set the alarm for right after lunch, after dinner, and before bed, because while he probably didn't need to change them that often, he'd also been assured there would be no harm in it either. Hizashi decided they were better safe than sorry. He refused to risk anything happening to hinder Shota's healing because he wasn't cleaning his wounds and redressing them enough.

It would be a lie if he said he wasn't nervous about the first dressing change, though. It wasn't as if this would be his first time taking care of one of Shota's injuries… just the first time dealing with one so serious. It wasn't every day that his husband was recovering from pulverized eye sockets.

The thought made him swallow thickly and Hizashi took his time with ensuring he had everything needed for the change. He checked and double checked that it was all accounted for, and when he could no longer stall, he walked back over to Shota. He went over the mental checklist in his head of does and don'ts, and then explained them aloud to Shota so that he didn't get annoyed by any of the maneuvering he'd have to do, as well as to help himself relax. It wasn't going to be a big deal. He would take the old stuff off, put the new stuff on, and boom, it would be done. Shota seemed calm about the whole thing up until Hizashi reminded him he was not allowed to open his eyes. He'd been told already, but he'd also just been coming off of anesthesia, so Hizashi wanted to be sure he remembered. And it was a good thing he did, because Shota's voice contained a scowl when he spoke.

"What?"

"Your eyes are still healing, baby," He explained, "R.G said no."

The order was as heartbreaking for him to say as he imagined it was upsetting for Shota to hear, but he nodded stiffly in understanding and didn't try to argue. Hizashi supposed that was good, even if he hadn't been expecting a fight on it anyway. Shota was no idiot, and he knew healing could be a miserable affair. He wasn't about to go against the doctor's orders.

He was careful when he started unwinding the thick covering from his face, throwing out apologies when he had to maneuver Shota's head to get the gauze out from under his hair. A couple times Shota's hand tightened around the arm of the recliner when his skin got pulled by a sticky bit of gauze and Hizashi instinctively brushed a thumb over his knuckles until he relaxed his grip. It was a lengthy affair, but eventually the white started turning up dirtier in spots, and Hizashi swallowed hard in anticipation for what his husband's face looked like as he removed the last bits of wrapping.

As soon as the gross, old bandages were off Hizashi was grateful Shota couldn't immediately see him. He imagined his reaction to seeing his face again for the first time in days was not the one that either of them had been hoping for. He couldn't help it, though. The entire time, he'd been imagining what his poor face must've looked like under all the sterile white, and he'd been prepared for the worst, but apparently all of that preparation did very little when he was faced with Shota's actual condition. It was almost funny too, because he didn't look nearly as bad as Hizashi had been building up in his mind. He just looked awful enough.

Bruises and cuts still in the process of healing littered every bony inch of his face, but the one under his right eye was the one that caught his attention. Hizashi wasn't sure how many stitches were holding the gash closed, but it was enough to churn his stomach, and Hizashi was reminded that most of the healing Recovery Girl had done had been internal for Shota. Internal had been decidedly more important than his outward appearance. Of course, he agreed with that, but it didn't stop him from mirroring Shota's wince when his eyes roamed over the rest of the wounds.

He was struck by how exhausted Shota looked, too, because despite the sleep he was getting, the bags under his eyes appeared to have grown. He started to get the feeling that most of Shota's sleep was as restless as his own. Hizashi knew part of the sunken in, fatigued look was due to the bruising around his eyes, but it didn't change the fact that he looked. So. Awful.

And then there was the matter of his eyes. The eyes that he couldn't take a look at because it wasn't allowed. He knew it was in Shota's best interest to keep them closed, yet the frustrated part of Hizashi's mind wondered if Recovery Girl hadn't told Shota to keep his eyes closed because if he opened them, Hizashi might never want to re-bandage his face. After all, it had been far too long since he'd been able been able to properly see him.

Four days and three hours, his mind bitterly supplied.

Four days and three hours since he'd seen those eyes scrunched up while Shota tried to conceal a smile brought out by one of his antics. Four days and three hours since he'd shot him a look that was equal parts exasperation and fondness. Four days and three hours since he'd been pinned by his intense gaze and told something not safe for little ears. Four days and three hours since either of them had just looked at each other.

Maybe that was a good thing, though, because Hizashi got the feeling he was no sight to behold right now. With his greasy hair and day-old clothes and chipped nail polish and stubbly chin... If he looked half as haggard as he felt, Shota might just run for the hills when he saw him.

He just hadn't found a reason good enough to part from his side long enough to do anything more than eat. School was only scheduled to start back up again tomorrow, and Yamauchi had taken over the radio show for him, so it wasn't like he had any reason to dress up or get himself looking presentable. Shota had been his number one priority since USJ, and he'd sort of just… forgotten to take care of himself.

Even as he thought all of that though, he chided himself, because he knew Shota wouldn't care about those sorts of things. Shota loved him for more than his good looks, and he'd be happy to see anything at all- though, he imagined he wouldn't be too happy knowing he'd been neglecting his own basic needs.

The weight of that fact hit Hizashi like a ton of bricks and even though none of what had happened was his fault, he still felt guilty over Shota's position. However badly the last few days had been affecting him, he knew it was a thousand times worse for Shota, who's sight and quirk hung in the balance. If he healed just the wrong way he could lose one, or both, and even though he insisted he'd be fine no matter the outcome, Hizashi knew he lied. He'd seen it in the stiff posture and heard it in his tight voice when he'd said it. If anything happened to his quirk, sure, he could still teach and life would go on, but he would feel less himself because he could no longer be the hero he'd always been. But if he lost his eyesight… Hizashi wasn't so sure he'd bounce back from that so quickly.

And every time he had to help Shota to the bathroom, or feed him, or get him settled into bed, served as a reminder to be hammered into him, like he was a piece of scrap metal on an anvil, that that could be their life if that happened. Every time he did anything for him that Shota normally would've been able to do on his own with ease, he was faced with the potential future of a blind Shota. Maybe it wouldn't be such a big deal, because Shota would eventually overcome the disability, but the mess of in between okay and not okay was not something Hizashi wanted to think about.

It was a bad track to go down and Hizashi focused on turning his train of thought somewhere else. Like the task at hand. With a newfound reason to focus on nothing but dealing with Shota, he grabbed the glass of water of the side table and let him drink until he'd drained the whole thing.

"You want more?"

"No." His reply was stiff, and Hizashi wondered if he was nervous, in pain, or both.

"Alright," Hizashi sighed and went to work on the next stage.

The care in which he wiped the built up sweat, grime, and old blood off of Shota's face was perhaps over the top, but he felt the weight of responsibility heavy in his chest. He refused to be the cause of any permanent damage because he made a mistake in the pressure he applied to any part of his healing body. It was why he did everything by the book, exactly how Recovery Girl had shown him, but with even more caution.

As he worked on washing off a scrape on his forehead, Shota hissed and it made him pause. Maybe it was the lack of sleep getting to him, or maybe it was the heaviness of everything finally making itself known, but he was painfully aware of every single injury Shota had. Every nick, every broken bone, every bruise, every… possible outcome should things not heal perfectly. It all hit him at the same time as he stared at the marred but still beautiful face, how horrible it all was.

The rag slipped from his fingers but he barely noticed. His hand travelled down to cup the side of Shota's face, brushing his thumb just beneath the stitches that housed a future scar, and when Shota leaned into the touch with a wistful pinch of his brows, his vision went blurry.

Any sound that tried to escape from his throat was kept silent as he cradled Shota's face. He didn't want to alarm him. However, in the end it made little difference when his husband's mouth turned into a frown.

"Zashi? Are you... crying?"

He tried to hold onto the keen building up in his throat, but he never had been good at hiding his emotions, and the fact that Shota pegged him before he'd made a peep reminded him just how well they knew each other. There was no good way to answer him, though, so he shook his head in answer, only to remember mid-movement that Shota couldn't see it. That shoved the built up tears over the edge. He bit back a rough sob when it tried to level him, and he set about rewrapping Shota's face with shaking hands.

He barely got the material halfway over the bridge of his nose before Shota's voice cut through his distress.

"Stop. Hizashi, stop."

Hizashi listened without putting much effort into fighting him on it, because he just didn't have the energy to insist that he needed to get his face rewrapped before hell froze over. Instead, he dropped his hands. They automatically settled on either side of Shota's face and Hizashi absentmindedly traced circles around the curve of his jaw, more as a way to calm himself down than anything else. Shota seemed to appreciate the attention too, though. In fact, Hizashi wondered if that wasn't exactly what he'd wanted, because he relaxed under his touch. The sigh he released sounded satisfied but also immensely frustrated, and the reasons behind the latter feeling weren't lost on him. Hizashi sniffled.

"Don't cry."

Hizashi decided he really needed to have a chat with Shota on how to not talk to people if you wanted them to not completely fall apart. Because how was he supposed to not cry harder when Shota spoke that softly, in a way that rang monotone to most other people, but that Hizashi could hear unending concern in.

And how crazy was it that Shota still managed to comfort him when he was the one hurt? Hizashi let out a bitter laugh at that and he felt more than saw Shota's shoulders twitch to make his arms come up. Hizashi halted his movement when he noticed a pinch in his expression, signalling to the pain he would never admit the small gesture causing. Shota gave an annoyed grunt, but made little other protest as he settled again and Hizashi dropped his face into the crook of his neck in time for another ugly sob to come up.

He needed to get it together and suck it up. He was well aware of that. Shota had enough to deal with without him becoming a useless snot blob on him. So, before Shota could get a chance to move or make any attempt to comfort, Hizashi sat back up and wiped his sleeve across his eyes to clear them a bit. It didn't do much, but at least the world wasn't a complete blur.

"Sorry," he sniffled and tried to get back to wrapping his face up. "Sorry. I… You need to… your face shouldn't be uncovered too long, yet, baby."

The quavering in his voice was bad and he wouldn't have been surprised if half of what he'd said had been lost. So it didn't surprise him when Shota turned his head, ensuring that his attempts to care for him were foiled.

"Hizashi, stop."

He did. He stopped because he was getting nowhere and everything in Shota's tone told him that if he couldn't listen, they were going to have some problems. And the last thing either of them needed was another problem. So he stopped and put the bandages on the coffee table, waiting for Shota to say something and pretend he didn't still hear his poor attempts to conceal sharp, shaky inhales.

Shota helped him with that too, though, because as soon as he opened his eyes, Hizashi didn't know if he was even breathing anymore. It was no more than a squint, but it was enough that they could meet each other's gaze, and Hizashi's brain felt like it had short circuited when the tears in his eyes just… stopped flowing. And of course, that was exactly what Shota seemed to have been banking on happening. Despite the grimace pulling his lips taut, he still looked satisfied with himself.

"Good," he said, the word a low rumble in his chest, "now calm down."

Hizashi wasn't sure what to say. Even though in the back of his mind he was yelling that Shota couldn't be doing that because he ran the risk of hurting himself even more, he couldn't stop himself from doing whatever Shota commanded. He couldn't deny him his request, not when he was looking at him like that. Not when he could see him.

Hizashi wondered what kind of sight he was, with his tear streaked face and snot getting caught in his mustache.

Probably not the best sight for sore eyes, but… at least he was a sight at all. Shota could see him, if the softness in his expression was any indication. He wasn't blind. His quirk still might've been damaged, but he hadn't lost his vision.

Relief flooded his body, turning him to jelly and Hizashi sagged forward, letting his hands find their way back to the sides of Shota's neck while he carefully settled his forehead against his. The action managed to drag the smallest of smiles from Shota as he let his eyes fall closed once more like they were supposed to be.

"Good." He said again, little more than a whisper this time. With their proximity, it was all he needed to hear him, and Hizashi closed his eyes, letting his breathing play catch up with Shota's until his heart rate calmed and he could focus on something other than his worry.

It was around that time that Shota decided to tilt his head up and pressed a feather-light kiss to the end of his nose. Hizashi's eyes popped open in surprise and he pulled away to inspect his husband. The lines that had been etched into Shota's face, while still there, had smoothed out just enough to be noticeable, making him look the slightest bit less haggard. It was his turn to smile softly, and Hizashi found it much easier to breathe.

When he went to reapply the bandages then, there were no orders to stop, and his hands no longer shook. However, it wasn't until Shota's face was completely covered and protected once more that Hizashi finally found his voice.

"Y'know… I love a good smooch as much as the next guy, baby, but you shouldn't open your eyes for any reason."

Perhaps it was a bit late to scold him, but Hizashi felt like he would be being irresponsible if he didn't at least let how he felt about the whole ordeal be known. Of course, Shota was unfazed, and even with his expression obscured from sight, he knew the man was rolling his eyes. The deadpanned cheeky response he got cemented that in for him, too.

"What are you talking about? They're closed."

Hizashi found his only proper reaction to that was to shake his head. He wasn't sure what he'd done to get Shota acting more normal than he had in days, but he was glad he did it. Selfish as it may have been, Hizashi wasn't sure he'd have been able to stay sane without some of their old banter to help him out. Perhaps Shota had been just as stressed as he about the prospect of not seeing again, and after putting those worries to rest, could be more at ease. Either way, Hizashi was thankful. Even if Shota was a bit reckless when it came to his own wellbeing, he knew exactly how to calm him down.

But, he couldn't be the only one doing the nice things, especially when Hizashi was supposed to be the one caring for him- it was funny how often he could turn the tables like that. Hizashi ran a hand through Shota's hair, mindful of the tangles, and planted his lips to the top of his head right after. Shota sagged into the chair, and Hizashi applauded the small success. He wasn't done yet, though.

"Want me to rub your shoulders?"

"I won't complain if you do."

For those interested, a scene in here was inspired by tumblr user malacandrax's piece (malacandrax . tumblr post /163732954833), so I highly encourage you to check it out! There will also be a companion fic to this posted in the next couple of days.