Chapter Text
I had only slept for a few hours before it was time for my healing session, which turned out to be my last. When it was over I was told I could go home the following day. I just needed to rest after the last session, they’d double check everything, and I could go.
Later in the day, a nurse came in and removed most of my bandages. I had mixed feelings. Of course I was glad to be getting out of the hospital. But Mirio was not. I’d be leaving him here. And where would he even go when he did get out? What will his life be like after everything?
Thinking about it made me feel sick and I wished for a distraction. I wished Nejire would come back and fill my room with her much-too-buoyant energy. Her straightforward realistic optimism. It could mix with my energy and they’d cancel themselves out…
But Nejire didn’t come. No one did. Perhaps they had in the morning when I’d been asleep, after not sleeping. All night. Because I was up with Mirio.
Mirio.
I have to tell him. It’s my last chance. I have to tell him I’m leaving, and convince him not to give up on himself, that everything will be okay. Even if it’s not the okay everyone had had planned.
I should do it now.
I didn’t do it ‘now’.
I didn’t do it in an hour.
I didn’t do it in two. I stayed in bed, usually with my sheet pulled up over my head, and I argued with myself about when to go see him. And about what I should say. And I tried to guess what he would say, then I planned out my responses. And it never worked out, I always got too sheepish. I embarrassed myself with my imaginary responses.
All of it made me feel ridiculous. I had no hope of communicating what I needed to.
So I let the sky fade to night. All the while getting more and more jittery, knowing my time was running out. I soon would have no excuses, no more time to procrastinate and I’d find myself walking down the halls of the hospital once more, knowing what I had to do. And knowing I would fail.
And that time came. I rolled onto my back and let out an agitated sigh at the ceiling. If I don’t go now, I’ll have to tell him in the morning… as I’m leaving.
So I have to go now.
I stood up and swallowed harshly, trying to stay determined.
But as I walked down the hallways, my determination waned with every step. It was like I was trying to carry it with me in a bag that had a hole in the bottom. No matter how I grasped at it, I just felt it in my gut - Hopeless. Failure. Pathetic.
My pulse was in my throat as I knocked on the door. My jaw clenched as I waited for it to open.
“I thought you’d be here.” Mirio opened the door for me and I went inside. “Your bandages are smaller.”
“So are yours.” His leg was wrapped more precisely around his calf, and he wasn’t limping as prominently.
“Yeah,” he breathed, “I feel better. Not better, better, but you know…” His voice trailed off.
“Did you sleep any more?” My heart was pounding around in my chest, echoing in my ears and my throat and my stomach. The stalling small talk was not calming me down.
“Nah, that’s okay.” He waved his hand like I’d offered him water, not like he was admitting to something that was inarguably not okay.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, so I kept my eyes down. My throat was tightening, scratching in anticipation of words I’d surely fail at speaking.
“Are you okay? You seem,” he said and I felt his eyes searching my face but I didn’t look up, “like something’s bothering you. Or distracted. More than usual.” He took a step towards me.
“I’m being released tomorrow.” My eyes stayed on the floor. I heard my voice - flat, quieter than I’d intended. Like always…
“That’s good news, Tamaki.” The warmth in his voice made me glance up at him. He was smiling, I had a feeling it was for the first time that day. “This is good!” He stepped closer. He was very close.
I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortable, eyes back on the ground. He was staring at me. I could feel it.
Something brushed against the injured side of my face and I winced away.
“Sorry!” he gasped. “Does it hurt?” I looked up, Mirio was frowning slightly, his hand raised, fingers still stretched forward towards my face.
“Not really,” I mumbled. “Just surprised me.” He looked at me and I fought against myself to hold his gaze. His hand twitched forward but he stopped, as if waiting for me to pull away again. I didn’t.
I could feel the heat from his fingertips before they made contact. Two fingers, just above my eyebrow tracing what was left of my injury, two on my temple. He was watching his hand. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Or if he felt my pulse increasing. Or was aware of my staring.
Or how sad he looked. How sad he always looked. He tried not to.
“You’ll be okay.” My voice caught in my throat. Like always… because my body is constantly at odds with itself.
His hand jerked back a little and his eyes met mine. The air between us felt full of static.
“You will.” I said.
And both of his hands were on my face, pulling me towards him until our lips connected. For a moment, I thought I’d disappeared and all that was left were the parts touching him. All I could feel was his warmth.
I felt it from his palm on my cheek, his wrist against my jaw, the side of my head where his fingers were weaving through my hair. I felt my ear, where his thumb was pressed. And I felt my lips. All growing warmer as his body heat bled into me.
And just as quickly as I disappeared I came shattering back. Back into a trembling knot in my stomach and a longing pull deep inside me. Back into my shaking hands and my self conscious doubt about where to put them. Back into my disappointing body that could never tell which voice in my head it wanted to listen to.
Mirio pulled back and leaned his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. He moved one hand to the back of my head, holding me to him. The other traced down my arm and laced our fingers together.
“I don’t think I will.” His voice was so small. It filled me with an overwhelming urge to make it so he could never talk like that again. Like a fire, a wave of heat from deep inside me wanting to destroy anything that made him feel that way.
“No.” I pulled my head back and forced him to look at me. “You will.” I swallowed. “You’re still you.”
“But I’m not.” I could see tears pooling.
“No.” I said again. My need to make him see - he had to see, just how wrong he was. It was winning. It was stronger than my anxiety, my fear, my self doubt. Stronger than anything that kept me from saying any of this before. “You are. You’re still everything you worked for. You’re everything you’ve done. And-and everyone you’ve helped...
“You’re bigger than what you lost. So much...” I let go of his hand and brought mine up to his shoulders. “You’re still a hero. You are. You are everything. Everything, Mirio. My everything. You are my everything.” I leaned forward, stopping just before I closed the space between our mouths. I brought my hands to his face, pushed my fingers back through his hair and pulled him to me.
I couldn’t kiss him enough - like it wasn’t enough. He needed to feel how I felt but I didn’t know how to do it. It was so frustrating I wanted to jump up and down and scream.
I wanted my love for him to be his own.
Mirio pulled back and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his face in my neck. He moved his hands to my shoulder blades and stepped backwards, pulling me with him. I felt his mouth on my neck, below my ear. Then on my jaw. Then back to my mouth. He kept moving backwards, holding me against him, all but carrying me.
I felt like I couldn’t catch my breath, but I didn’t want to stop to try.
When we reached his bed he really did pick me up, it was one swift motion - he put an arm around my waist, I whined in protest, and suddenly I was lying on my back with him above me.
He leaned down and kissed me again. I kissed back. Feeling his lips glide across mine, breathing deeply during the pauses for air, trying to bring the taste of him into my mouth so it’d never leave. I brought my head up as he pulled away, not wanting it to stop.
Then there was eye contact… prolonged. I felt my insides melting in the embarrassment of being so exposed. My face was growing hot, and I was aware of my labored breathing which I frantically tried to calm.
Mirio brought his hand up and brushed my hair out of my face. I watched his chest move with each breath and found myself wanting to pull him back down to me again.
He looked at me and smiled. “Sleep here.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even suggestive. He sounded like he was stating a fact.
“I can’t.” My voice felt strange to use, like it was coming from too deep in my throat.
“You can.” He smiled at me. “Please.” He shifted to the side and laid down, most of his weight on me. I could feel a pain in my rib from my injury but I ignored it. The pressure of his body on mine felt so perfect, so warm, it felt like I’d been waiting forever just to feel it. It made me feel like I could sleep for days as long as he didn’t move.
He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer into him. It gave me the frantic feeling again, the longing to make him see himself. I wanted him to hold me so tight that our bodies sank into one another and he could feel what I felt. Maybe if I lay there long enough it would leach into him. Maybe if we just stayed close forever, he would eventually see.
As I lay there, I realized that I wasn’t surprised that it turned out it wasn’t just me wondering if we were more. Or maybe we had always been more. Because lying with him, somehow it felt more like falling back into an old habit than discovering something new. An incredibly warm, comfortable habit. One that, for a moment at least, made me like being in my body.
His head on my chest, my fingers lazily moving through his hair, his voice was quiet when he spoke, almost like he was falling asleep.
“Tamaki?”
I hummed a response.
“What did you call me again?”
The corners of my lips pulled up into a smile and I closed my eyes.
“Everything.”