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Amajiki had been a part of Mirio’s life for so long at this point, he felt more like a part of his body than a friend. Like, a cherished part of Mirio’s body, don’t get him wrong; Amajiki was very important to him, but his point was that Amajiki was just so much of a constant in Mirio’s life that the thought of not having him was like having to amputate part of his arm. He was as part of Mirio’s life as the air in his lungs, as the skin over his muscles. He was just there.
So when Mirio realized that he liked Amajiki in a way that may have been more than strictly platonic, he felt a panic that he was entirely unfamiliar with. He had gone through a lot in his short life, experienced a lot, struggled a lot, but the fear he felt at the prospect of maybe losing Amajiki?
It was like when he used to phase through the ground, and he couldn’t see or breathe or feel. Just, an overwhelming wrongness filled him as he was suddenly and disorientingly cut off from his senses. So, he didn’t admit it; barely even admitted it to himself, and just let their friendship continue normally. He had so many other things to think about after all, so how hard could it be to ignore his crush on his best friend?
. . . harder than he he expected, in the end. There was the fact that the older they got, Amajiki somehow just got prettier; he got taller and broader, but he always maintained a slimness despite that, and while he never told Amajiki this because he’d just be upset, he really did remind Mirio of elves from those old fantasy novels. Beautiful, noble, and amazing. Although, what really made it difficult was the fact that Amajiki never really grew out of his self-consciousness, and that was fine, except Mirio was constantly trying bring him back up and each time he did, he’d have to remember just how amazing Amajiki was. Over and over.
It was - distracting, to say in the least.
At least Amajiki’s kohai’s presence made it a little more tolerable. Kirishima was a bright, sunshiney person and he drew your attention regardless of what was going on. He’d never distract Mirio from Amajiki completely, because knowing where Amajiki was at all times was just a thing that Mirio did, but that constant thought that pressed against his mind was ignored for now.
Well, usually; today, Kirishima was being very quiet for him.
It was kind of rude, since Mirio relied on him to distract him.
“Are you okay, Kirishima?” Amajiki was asking when Mirio tuned back into the conversation. He picked at his takoyaki, and Mirio could tell he was nervous. Well, Amajiki was always nervous, but right now he seemed to be extra nervous. Was it because of Kirishima being here? He usually didn’t mind the kid.
Speaking of, the kid looked up from where he was picking at his own lunch and he blushed so brilliantly that his face was hard to tell from his hair. It was kind of fascinating.
“I’m fine! Just - thinking,” He said, averting his gaze. Well, it wasn’t difficult for Mirio to tell when someone was being nervous and avoidant at this point. He ate some more of his lunch contemplatively before announcing cheerily -
“Boy problems.” He had been kind of joking - well, more like projecting - since he didn’t even know if Kirishima was attracted to men, but at the sharp, stunned look that the first-year sent him he realized that maybe he had also just started to realize what that looked like now.
“Mirio, what do you mean?” Amajiki asked at the same time that Kirishima asked, ”How did you know?”
Mirio glanced at Amajiki, offering him a tight smile in acknowledgement but then turned towards Kirishima, leaning forward on the table between them. Mirio wasn’t about to confront his own feelings, oh no, but maybe he could help another poor soul avoid the path he was on.
“Is it that angry blond?” Mirio asked. He hadn’t ever actually met him, just heard stories from Amajiki and Midoriya. He couldn’t say he held a high opinion of the teenage boy, but apparently he and Kirishima got along well, and he couldn’t be all bad if someone like Kirishima stuck by his side. “The one with the boom and the pow?”
“The boom a-and the pow?” Kirishima sputtered, and, wow, he could get redder. So, at the very least, Mirio was on the right track. He nodded sagely and Kirishima stumbled over vowels as he tried to protest, but then his voice died down and he was glancing back in his lap.
“Am I that obvious?” Kirishima asked the ground.
“Nope!” Mirio announced, making him wait for elaboration as he ate more of his lunch. “He’s just the only person in your life that I know about.”
Well, other than Amajiki. He cast his gaze on the quiet raven-locked boy, who was watching the conversation with some sort of mix of amusement and sympathetic pain. The wind blew gently, pushing his bangs into his face and concealing those bright eyes that had been glancing in Mirio’s direction. Every time he caught Amajiki like this, looking particularly captivating, Mirio always felt weightless. He swallowed thickly and forced his eyes back in the direction of the redhead.
“I mean, aside from Tamaki -” Mirio said, and his tone was aimed somewhere for joking, but it fell just short of possessive and he winced at his own obviousness. “ - and it better not be him.”
“No! Of course not, no!” Kirishima said, thrusting his arms into the space between them, gesticulating wildly over their foods and drinks. Amajiki not so subtly pulled his food onto his lap, but looked otherwise unfazed and that probably had entirely to do with a long life lived with Mirio.
“It’s not manly to do things like that!” Kirishima announced, and he officially lost Mirio but Amajiki nodded as if this was known fact, and he wondered just how often Kirishima went on strange tangents like this. “To crush on someone who is already taken is just cowardly -”
“What?” Amajiki and Mirio echoed, glancing at each other. A blush spread over his cheeks, and Mirio felt his heart sink. There was no way Amajiki was taken, right? He meant, he would know about it, right? Who would it even be with? He glanced back at Kirishima, who was looking a little more unsure now.
“It’s unmanly to get crushes on people who are already in a relationship?” Kirishima offered hesitantly. Amajiki made a distressed noise and Mirio only frowned.
“Why do you think Tamaki is in a relationship?” Mirio asked, and Kirishima’s brow furrowed. He glanced between the two third-years as if they were a puzzle he needed to figure out but also as if he had unfortunately never seen a puzzle in his entire life.
“I thought . . . him and . . .” Kirishima trailed off, and Mirio didn’t know if he had a certain look on his face, but when the redhead glanced at him his blush spread down his throat and he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing with effort. “Nevermind, I was wrong! I’m sorry!”
Not really wanted to continue this conversation any further, Mirio nodded as if anything Kirishima had just said made sense. The younger boy took the chance and ran with it though, deflating with relief. There was an awkward moment when no one seemed to know what to say, the three of them just attempting to act like they had been eating this entire time and hadn’t just had one of the most awkward conversations that Mirio had ever had. The silence was almost just as uncomfortable however, especially with both of the other boys at the table sitting hunched over, their shoulders around their ears. Mirio cleared his throat, and Kirishima glanced up at him, eye bright and clearly enthusiastic about the chance of moving on from the previous conversation.
“Tell us about your, uh, angry blond,” Mirio prompted, and all of that enthusiasm disappeared instantly. He wondered if Kirishima’s face was going to ever be able to return to his original color at this rate.
“Bakugou? He’s -” Kirishima paused, looking away from Amajiki and Miiro. His face softened, an absolutely smitten expression on his face that Mirio was completely familiar with. He saw it often enough in the mirror.
“He’s amazing,” Kirishima eventually said, his voice reverent as if he was talking about a god. It was cute. “He’s - he can get a bit much sometimes, but he’s so strong and sincere. Once you learn the way he talks, you realize that he like, never lies, and that he really cares and he is just so pretty.”
Kirishima’s eyes widen as the last few words fell out of his mouth, as if he hadn’t given them permission and they had just barralled out of him unapproved. Mirio could relate to having a pretty best friend though, so he just nodded.
“What are you going to do about it?” Mirio asked, and he wasn’t exactly looking for advice - that would be silly and he had probably been dealing with this longer than Kirishima - but he was admittedly a little curious to see how another person dealt with the pining. Kirishima ‘oh’ed, and rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes downcast.
“I was - I was thinking of telling him,” Kirishima admitted, and wow, yeah, that was a new perspective. It wasn’t like Mirio had never considered telling Amajiki, but it had been a long time since he had thought it was a serious option. He didn’t know if he should be jealous or sympathetic. Either way, this angry blond and Kirishima had only met at the beginning of the school year; they didn’t have a lifetime together that hung in the balance.
“Oh,” Mirio said. Kirishima smiled at him like he had given him advice, as if Mirio wasn’t too busy caught up in his own feelings around Amajiki to help. He swallowed the emotion down and nodded, letting out a long sigh.
“If this ‘Bakugou’ is important to you . . . it is good to be honest with your feelings.” Hypocrite, Mirio thought. He could feel Amajiki’s stare bore into him, and he felt the sudden need to defend himself. “But! You know, sometimes a friendship is also important to you, then it makes sense to, uh, wait until you know they like you too for sure!”
Kirishima nodded, his expression fixed into something more serious. He looked down at his hands, considering for a moment, and Mirio pointedly refused to look at Amajiki. He knew it wasn’t the bravest thing to hide his crush, but Amajiki was important to him, beyond just having a pretty face.
“What if . . . you know though?” Kirishima asked, and Mirio blinked at him.
“What do you mean?” Mirio asked, and Kirishima’s throat bobbed again.
“What if you know they like you back?” He clarified, and Mirio found himself at a loss. He hadn’t really ever considered what he would do if he had found out that Amajiki liked him back. Would it be worth the risk then? If they both wanted the same thing? Like, breakups existed, but if they both wanted it?
“I-I guess you should talk to them about it, then,” Mirio said. If he thought Amajiki liked him back . . . he would want to risk it, he’d think. They had spent so much time together for so long, why wouldn’t they be able to make it work? Sure, romance and friendship were two different things but . . . they would be able to do it.
“If you could make it work, it would be worthwhile, I think,” Mirio said, and he saw Amajiki nodding out of the corner of his eye.
“Your happiness is important,” He said, and Kirishima flashed them both big smiles. He stood, gathering everything back onto his plate and glancing around the lunchroom.
“Thank you guys! I am going to find him before lunch lets out,” He said, and he looked back at them but Mirio could already tell that his mind was elsewhere, his eyes bright and hopeful again. It was sweet, and Mirio was happy for him, and he wished him luck, he really did. However, in the wake of Kirishima’s absence it was just Amajiki, Mirio, and the burden of Mirio’s feelings. He could see his friend staring at him contemplatively, like he was searching him for something. When he looked away, there was a tension Mirio hadn’t even realize he had been holding that drained away from his shoulders.
“Do you really think it’s worth it? If they both want it?” Amajiki asked, and there was a quality to his voice, as if he was testing the waters. Mirio looked at him curiously, but his friend averted his gaze. He was nervous about something.
“I think so, yeah,” Mirio said, and he was surprised with himself with how honest it was. Amajiki nodded, and Mirio thought for a second that the conversation was over, but then there was a hand - A long, thin, pale hand that he was very familiar with - covering his, his fingers slotting in with Mirio’s, and Mirio thought that his heart might beat out of his chest.
“Good,” Amajiki said, his voice quiet and a deep blush blooming on his face, but his hand was steady where it was on top of Mirio’s. He stared at the raven-haired boy in shock, his mouth gaping open, trying to figure out if this was some sort of prank. Not that Amajiki was the type to do that sort of thing, but at the same time, how could this be real? The other boy didn’t turn towards Mirio, but his eyes did slide over, and a small smile spread across his lips and Mirio realized that, yes, this was real.
He pulled his hand out of Amajiki’s grasp so that he could flip his, pressing their palms together and intertwining their fingers again. The unspoken answer to the unspoken question.
Are we doing this? Yes, we are.